#i almost got suspended for wearing a hat all the time after being told not to then i told one of my favorite teachers

[anotherpapercut]

my best advice to anyone who's still in middle/high school is to make your teachers think you are the nicest sweetest purest little goody two shoes on the planet so that you can get away with breaking rules fairly openly bc your teachers either won't believe it or will view it as a very minor issue since you're the perfect student

[rumblelibrary]

Kinky stuff you said?

so... i have this idea

I know we all collectively as a fandom have decided that Andrea is a fluff ball lmao

but I'm rooting for him because...I don't know, like when he got angry when he found out about the letter and started to play the violin all annoyed and how he raised his voice and there is also the look that he gave Olga he gives me the feelings like~

Andrea spank me with that violin bow (we can buy a new one later)

Something like Teach me a lesson sweet boy

Dancing the dance [Andrea Marowski x Reader]

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Smut (fingering, spanking, mentions of cheating)

Author’s note: Do I have to say something? I mean the request is amazing enough

It was just a day like any other in the little village, you opened your bookshop, a small little thing that your uncle run and you were proud to call it your precious jewel. 

You worked hard to keep it afloat, you went by bicycle to the bigger cities nearby to get the best books yourself or the classics, you were determined not to let it die on you, but it was every day harder.

It was almost the end of your day when you saw Mr Barnes come inside, he was a war veteran that suffered terrible injuries, but also an avid reader who would come even twice a week.

“Don’t you tell me you have already finished it, James”

You smiled at him and he shrugged, his playful smirk running over his lips. “I like this Agatha Christie author and her Belgian detective, what can I say?”

He was a player, you knew it and didn’t expect anything less from him, he is handsome and he knows it. But you never took him seriously and even less since a certain shipwrecked violinist made his way to your heart, but truth to be told, you indulged him. Sure, he was a passionate reader, but he loved to come and flirt with you and you need him and his coins to call it a day.

“Well, what’s next then?”

“I don’t know, you tell me, you’re the bookworm, aren’t you?”

His smirk was playful but you ignored it and smiled only moving away from the counter, making your away around the books to try the one you were meaning to offer him next. You always planned one in advance, or even two, just to make sure to give him enough attention but not too much.

“What about…” you begun, your tongue sticking a little put as you’re focused, eyebrows furrowed as you read the titles.

“You’d look even more the part with glasses” he interrupted you and you chuckled 

“I know, I know, I should wear them but..”

“No, I mean that you’d look even more attractive with them on”

You kept quiet as he moved closer, his arm leaning against the shelf in front of you as you mumbled a thank you.

He stared at you following your every move, your hand picking a thin book and handing it to him.

“The Great Gatsby” he read out loud “Is it new?” “No, just American, it was published in 1925”

He nodded looking at it as he moved page after page, his lips pursed in concentration as you tried to move past him, but he just stood still and board in front of you.

“What do you do after work?”

“Oh, well I have some chores to do at home, study new purchases for the shop”

“You always do” he said closing the book with a loud snap making you jolt in your spot

“Let’s have a date night, we could dine at the tavern and you can tell me more about those orders you always have to do” he said taking a step forward as you mimicked him taking a step back.

“Y/N” he murmured “we are dancing this dance from a long time, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know what you mean”

You replied only as you tried to move past him

“You’re very attractive, still unmarried, incredibly tempting for every man in town, you should expect it”

The truth was that you weren’t completely far from anything love related, but Dr Mead advised you to keep your little ‘entanglement’ with Andrea s secret for the time being. Most people still didn’t get the difference of him being Polish and not German and it would only make your life harder for no reason. So you obliged, you closed the curtains at night when he sneaked into your room, you visited him often with the excuse of bringing him books, you pretend not to wish his touch on you every time of the day.

“I said I can’t already”

You took the chance to move past James and take the broom to clean.

He took a deep breath, gritting his teeth as his eyes travelled on you. He was patient, but not that patient, nevertheless you were a delicious eye candy to his eyes. He put his hand to his pocket still holding the book into the other one. He pulled out some coins and left them on the table, there was also a tip from you.

“I like this game Y/N” he said bluntly to you and he looked at the book “also. such a small book makes me think you want me to come back soon”

You looked at him, you matched his smirk, oh he loved to be kept on the edge, didn’t he?

“See you next week” you only said and he gave you a light military salutation to you saying something about being at your orders.

You smirked biting the inside of your cheek as you enjoyed the game for sure, or the dance as he called it, but you were realising how you had to probably tone it down. He was liking it a bit too much and going over the simple play, plus you were losing the plot of it since Andrea came into the picture.

After you closed the day, recorded all the sells and cleaned the shop you wrapped yourself up in a coat, taking an easy children book for Andrea to practice with. On your way out you noticed some scattered flowers on the ground, but you didn’t pay much attention to it.

You made your way to Ursula and Janet’s house, the violin being played out loud, a very dramatic and strong melody going off, almost violent.

As you knocked at the door Janet welcomed you quickly.

“Oh Y/N, please try to talk to him, at least you know German” she said and you looked at her confused “he went out for a walk and came back so angry, he shouted at poor Ursula, she is so bumped, I can’t look after the two of them” Janet said in her own way that made it sound almost funny, if not sarcastic.

You nodded taking off your coat and hat, you walked upstairs holding the book with you, the music getting louder as you took the stairs until his room, you got inside without knocking because it would be impossible for him to hear anyway. The first thing you noticed was his back wrapped in that white shirt and the pants kept up by his suspenders. You still remember vividly the first time you pulled those suspenders off his shoulders, it is still one of your favourite things to do as a prelude of what is about to come.

“Andrea” you called him as you closed the door behind your back, locking it just because you know how much Ursula likes to peak in.

He turned around suddenly, almost scaring you off as he held his violin in one hand and the thin bow into his other hand, his eyes on fire, jaw clenched and his back straight like a soldier.

“You bezwstydny” he shouted at you and you looked at him even more confused “schamlos” he said then in German.

“Shameless? Why?” You asked frowning, you had the luck to know German because your family immigrated to Cornwall before the WWI to join your uncle’s business, but that didn’t help when Andrea was so mad to decide not to tolerate any other language by his own like now.

“I saw you” he said spitting venom “You think funny?”

“But what?”

“You with that man in bookshop!” He growled putting down the violin because it was at serious risk of being thrown on the floor.

You parted your lips in shock as he said that, so those flowers were his? 

“Did you come to pick me up?”

He nodded but his lips pressed against each other in disgust.

“Andrea, don’t make that face, he is just a client acting up”

“You act up”

You looked at him shaking your head “you don’t understand” you said.

He raised his eyebrows.

“oh no, I do understand”

His voice was different, his accent thicker than ever, there was no trace of the usual sweet smile, almost mischievous, that he always had on his lips.

He sat down on the chair were Ursula watched him for nights on “on my lap”

You frowned “no”

He raised his eyebrows “I think you not understand” he said threateningly “Are you playing with two men?”

You shook your head vehemently “You know it is not like this” you stated “I want only you”

He didn’t seem impressed, he pursed his lips in disbelief and let out a sarcastic chuckle twirling the bow between his fingers.

“Then prove it”

His accent hitting you again, you loved it, but the way he said it, that didn’t feel comforting.

You stared at him, you didn’t want to argue with him, he was already too mad and to hold a conversation was to ask too much.

So you obliged leaving the book aside and making your way to his lap sitting on it.

“No this way” he said wiggling underneath you to make you stand up

“gebückt” he said in German waving the bow to you. Oh, so he wanted you bent over it?

You stood uncomfortable for a moment but then you nodded again, you needed to get past this crisis, no?

So you moved your dress a bit to make your way onto his lap, you wanted to ask what now but then you felt distinctively the way he pulled your skirts up.

“Andrea” you hissed at him but by now he held you in that position pushing your panties down, the cold air hitting your bum, your cheeks bringing from embarrassment.

“You like play, so you get to be punish like little kid”

You blushed even more if possible, you wiggled but he held you down firmly until you stopped struggling and settled in the position he wanted.

“Repeat numbers in English for me” he said and you whimpered as he smacked that bow onto your ass earning a gasp, your shoulders trembled inward as it was more painful than expected.

“Number?”

“One” you replied immediately, how much do you have to count, you wondered.

You whimpered as other two snaps to the stick followed very quick together

“Andrea, please stop” “If you wanted me to stop you’d not act to earn it” his words an hiss between his teeth “we begin again now, you didn’t count”

You groaned but another slap reduced you to a forced obedience “one”

He smirked widely as he twirled the bow in his hand, you could’t see him but you could ear the way it cut the air around.

You obeyed and counted all the three snaps that followed, your breath itching and your hands trying to reach out to the floor to gain some advantage in the positioning, which still felt too embarrassing, the constrictive exposure of your bottom making you feel uneasy.

Andrea saw that movement and he reached down with his free hand clasping onto your jaw making you look up like some animal in need to be tamed. Another whip hit you.

“Five” you groaned as now your position felt even more humiliating, you shivered as he chuckled

“Now you will be good during more strokes, if you manage to come to dziesięć then you’ll be free”

You groaned, how much is that? The confusion in you was showing as your body stiffened. The unknown scaring you, your core clenched shamelessly, your wetness revealing a pleasure that was evident, a dirtiness of your own that you didn’t expect to meet.

“Only five more”

He whispered and smacked your ass again, you whined squeezing your eyes

“Six”

Oh, to see you so obedient.

“You like to be a tease, don’t you? You love it, showing off like a whore to that man, to all the men, you sell them the whole experience for few coins? You make them believe they can fuck you?”

He smirked hitting your ass again, your hips buckling against his leg as you were looking for relief from that desire

“Seven”

“You love it, you love to be desired by many don’t you?”

“Eight”

“You want them to dream of you at night, to desire to fuck you and smack your ass like I am doing now, these skirts only making them dream more”

“Nine”

You were sobbing by now, his hand on your jaw making it hard to breathe and speak

“Who is a whore?” “I am”

“Who is my whore?

“I am”

He smirked, he was pleased giving you one last whip, the hair of the bow falling down as some of them broke, oh you know too well how much that will cost you, Andrea wasn’t one to easily ruin something like that.

“Ten!”

You almost shouted it, your thighs trembling and knees kept closing and parting trying to find some relief.

Andrea leaned down kissing the back of your neck as he gave you time to calm down, let the humiliation sink in.

“Andrea” Ursula’s voice rang from behind the door “Are you quite alright? Dinner is almost ready”

“I am! Y/N and I need a moment” he said, his voice completely different and far from the dark threatening voice that poured over you a second before “We will be down in ten!” As he spoke he touched over your wet slit, how shamelessly you were patching his pants with all that excitement, so slowly began playing with you, you winced biting on the fabric of his tailored cloths trying to hold back any sound while those skilled violist fingers kept scissoring inside of you. “We haven’t done yet”

Tagged @cazzyimagines​ @lieutenantn​ @handmaiden-of-mischief​ @thesunflowersutra​ @zemomybeloved​​ @fictionlandslanddreams​ @charistory​ @greeneyedblondie44​ @apparrio​ @hb8301​ @whatawildone​ @rhymerhymerhyme @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl

Let me know if you want to get tagged to my publications too <3

[poetrusicperry]

the poets and their first summer jobs

i’ve seen some discourse about how rich all the boys/their families are, and of course there would be like very little reason for them to work, but i couldn’t help wondering who would do what for their first jobs (summer jobs bc they couldn’t work while they’re at school). andddd that led me to writing this lol

neil: so neil would have like absolutely zero time for a job between all his normal coursework/extracurriculars and his summer classes (”you know me, always taking on too much”), but i guarantee you he would still take the time to get a job and have his own money to do with whatever he chose. mr. perry wouldn’t care much because it showed neil “taking initiative” or whatever. neil would likely work at a diner as either a bus boy or a waiter. he’s super personable, so he’d always strike up conversations with people sitting at the counter, and he’d get loads of tips bc he’s cute (: he’d bring his summer school work with him to do during lulls in business, which his boss didn’t mind because it’s neil and everyone knows how responsible he is. the poets would come visit him pretty much every day (to eat, see neil, and escape the heat in the air conditioning), likely taking up a whole booth, and making an absolute mess of the area. charlie would be making spitballs, aiming at cameron and knox every time (earning a “charlie, knock it off, i told you three times already! so mature of you, really.” from cameron) and meeks/pitts would try to see how many straws they could connect to make “ultra straw.” todd would come hang out at the counter when neil was closing, admiring his pretty bf as he worked (’: neil would always make todd a chocolate milkshake with whipped cream and rainbow jimmies on the house, claiming, “we have to empty out the ice cream machine anyway” (but really he’d take the cost out of his paycheck, just wanting to make todd happy). his boss would hire him back every summer, loving how much business neil drove in (even if the poets made a mess every time they hung out and ate) and absolutely adoring how much effort neil put into what anyone else would seemingly call a “meaningless” job.

todd: you can’t tell me that todd wouldn’t look forward to working. especially during the summers, it would get him out of the house and away from his parents judging his every move. being the shy introvert he is, he’d likely do things like mowing lawns or gardening for people around his neighborhood. minimal interactions, but still decent pay (as all the people in his neighborhood were likely super rich and could afford to pay him well). the poets’ parents would hire him, after much convincing from their sons (”todd’s just trying to make some money, dad. please?”) and todd would appreciate this more than they ever knew. he’d become super familiar with flower types and he’d become a lot more nurturing after taking care of plants and grass for multiple summers. he’d keep a little journal or notebook with drawings or sketches of the flowers he’d taken care of, complete with descriptions and magazine/newspaper clippings from his mom’s better homes and garden subscription (a lot of his poetry would become nature-related as well). it would be his late night project, or something he’d do if he couldn't sleep (which was pretty common for todd). he’d call neil on the phone some nights and just gush about all kinds of flowers or tell neil how he accidentally got stung by a bee and cried about it because he knew the bee would die (all the while, neil would be listening so intently, taking note about which flowers were todd’s favorites for future use (’: the calls would have to be pretty planned, bc if neil wasn’t working, he was doing school work, or his parents were keeping an annoyingly close watch on him. but sometimes neil would call him impromptu and that made todd just the happiest little camper ever). todd’s nails would be really short (he’d cut them really often because he doesn’t like the feeling of dirt under his nails), which means he couldn’t bite his nails anymore, causing him to pick up a new anxious habit of biting the inside of his bottom lip ): overall, though, todd would like his job, and even find pleasure in being surrounded by little flowers all day. also if/when neil ever got the chance, he’d absolutely tag along to see his sweaty boyfriend in action (come on, neil would go absolutely nuts for todd in a cutoff shirt, 5″ inseam shorts, and converse mowing a lawn looking all manly and tough). 

charlie: obviously, charlie wouldn’t need to work because of his financial situation, but his mom would 110% make him get a job just so he wouldn’t be around the house causing trouble/bothering his siblings for fun (”i’m hosting a lot of book club meetings for the country club this summer, i can’t have you putting spiders in the ladies’ hats again, charles”). similar to neil, mr. charlie dalton would work his summers at an ice cream/custard stand. he’d have to wear a white, short sleeve button up, a red and white striped apron, and one of those white, rectangular hats (his least favorite part HAHA, stating, “my hair is one of my best features and this just takes it all away. it’s unfair.”). the poets would visit often, both for ice cream, but primarily to give him a hard time about his uniform (”i’ll give you twenty bucks to wear this on our first day of classes” meeks would tease, completely gobsmacked when charlie showed up to their first chemistry class in his uniform, earning lots of demerits, but also twenty dollars). charlie would hate it at first, but obviously he’d adjust, being the extroverted/personable person, not taking himself too seriously and being one of the best ice cream slingers anyone had ever seen. he’d give the cute girls (and boys) extra scoops of ice cream for free, winking as he handed them their orders. like neil’s boss, charlie’s boss was even more thankful for charlie’s presence because they’d likely be raking in at least triple the income they would in a summer without him. he’d become a sundae expert, spending many dead poets meeting making them for his friends while they read poems and stories. that being said, he’d come to hate eating ice cream, publishing an article in welton’s honor demanding that they remove ice cream from their dessert menu (yes, almost exactly like the “girls at welton” prank, but he’d make the call collect this time. mr. nolan would be fed up to the point where he wouldn’t even punish charlie physically, just suspend him from rowing [which charlie wouldn’t mind at all HAHA]).

meeks & pitts: after their hi-fi success and the fact that they are seemingly inseparable, they both sought out jobs at the local radio station where they were hired as interns/assistants, running errands and picking up coffee or lunch for the station. but sometimes, when they worked pretty late, the night shift dj would let them pick the records and show them how everything worked (: after nights like that, meeks and pitts would go to one of their houses and add modifications to their hi-fi radio, staying up all night modifying and researching (by the end of the summer, they had made another hi-fi (portable) and their og hi-fi would have been morphed into a huge nationally reaching radio that they keep in the cave (since it would be disallowed in their room at welton). another job that the two of them would have would be answering calls for the station about song requests. with this knowledge, charlie and the other poets would hang out at someone’s house, calling and requesting the same songs over and over and over again. their biggest task for the summer would be organizing the shelves with all the records into alphabetical order (”duh, we should go by first name, meeks. which other way would it be” pitts would argue, only to find out that after they had spent about three weeks alphabetizing by first name, they were supposed to go by last name. “now who’s the idiot?” meeks would jeer, beginning to pull the records off the shelves). they’d also learn a lot about music from their night shift coworker, which would help in their quest to woo some ladies the following school year.

cameron: cameron liked spending his summers doing research projects for fun and just reading a whole lot, so you can imagine his displeasure at when his parents asked him to get a job (presumably to help with paying for his schooling). while upset about it, he wouldn’t complain, and took it on the chin, understanding the reasoning. he’d apply to a couple places, but ultimately end up as a grocery store cashier/stock boy. much like charlie, he’d have the same kind of uniform, but with a green apron instead. he’d spend most of his shift ringing people up at the register, being friendly and personable (something no one ever really realized about him !!). the poets’ moms would always see him and choose his register on purpose, using it as a chance to catch up or tell him to tell his parents that “the overstreets say hello!” or “mrs. anderson says hi!” pitts, meeks, and charlie would utilize cameron’s position at the supermarket to buy nudie magazines unembarrassed/slightly illegally HAHA (”come on, cameron! it’s not like you won’t be included in seeing them next year, too. we bring them to the meetings, you know that!” charlie would say, leaving cameron at a loss, reluctantly scanning the magazines and bagging them as pitts and meeks sniggered). charlie would wave, blow him a kiss, and wink as they left, “love you, richardddd.” sure enough, the magazines would make an appearance during the following school year and cameron was glad he had decided to let them buy the magazines lol. 

knox: out of all the poets, i feel like our knoxious would be the least inclined to work (yes, even less inclined than charlie). his parents wouldn’t even make him get a job because he simply didn’t need to, but to everyone’s surprise, he would volunteer at the animal shelter. the poets would later find out that it was a great way to meet girls (which is why he did it lmfao so they endlessly goaded him about it). charlie would visit often, and even took a rescue puppy home, much to charlie’s younger sister’s delight. charlie even wanted to start volunteering at the shelter to also meet girls, but he was too busy at the ice cream stand (plus, he had really grown to like it there so he didn’t want to leave). another effect of volunteering made knox super interested in zoology and animals, which brought out a newer, more nurturing/caring side to him, and who knows, maybe he’d go vegetarian somehow. he’d want to pursue a career in animal science or becoming a veterinarian, but mr. overstreet was hellbent on knox taking over the firm, so it seemed like a pipe dream. knox would continue to volunteer at the animal shelter, well into his career as a lawyer, and would even go to veterinary school in his 30s (when he was a nationally famous, established lawyer) to get certification to work with animals in a broader way (: 

hope you guys liked these. it was pretty fun to write, and i'd pay such good money to see neil, charlie, and cameron in their uniforms (and todd, but that’s neither here nor there). happy thursday !! let me know what you guys think of these <3(:

[purplehairedwonder]

Bent But Not Broken

Fandom: One Piece Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Trafalgar Law/Monkey D. Luffy (pre-relationship) Words: 2,127 Characters: Trafalgar Law, Monkey D. Luffy, Basil Hawkins, Bepo Note: This was written for the “I’m Fine” square on my Bad Things Happen Bingo @badthingshappenbingo​ card.

Feel free to send prompts for additional fills!

This could be read as a loose sequel to “A Rope That Wears Thin,” but it stands on its own.

Summary: In the aftermath of his torture at Hawkins's hands, Law prefers to lick his wounds in private. Luffy, newly returned from Udon, has other ideas.

Read also at AO3 / FF.N

Sitting with his back against the wall of the ramshackle shack he’d taken up residence in in Ebisu Town, Law took a heavy breath before turning to the task at hand. With the sounds of his crew puttering about outside his shack grounding him in the moment, Law slowly removed the bandages Bepo had carefully wrapped around his wrists upon his return from the prison. He examined the chafed, bruised skin with a grimace, noting the various shades of purple and yellow and green encircling his wrists where the Seastone shackles suspended from the prison ceiling had held him upright while Hawkins and his lackeys whipped and beat and…

Law shook his head, pulling himself from the memory. He’d made his choice to trade places with Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin knowing full well what it meant, and he would do it again in an instant. He’d been Hawkins’s target in the first place, and he’d never let his nakama take blows meant for him—not from Doflamingo and not from another member of the Worst Generation.

That didn’t mean the damage hadn’t lingered, however.

In the days since he’d returned to his crew, he’d let his wounds heal naturally. He knew some of his nakama had looked at him askance for not using his Fruit to accelerate the healing process, but the more he let his body recover naturally, the less energy he’d need to expend to deal with the wounds later—and he knew he’d need his stamina for the upcoming raid. He’d heal whatever was left just before they took on Kaido.

After disinfecting the broken skin, he pulled a salve from his medical kit and spread it over his mottled skin, sighing at the cool relief it provided, before wrapping clean bandages around his wrists once more. He then shrugged out of the sleeves of his yukata to examine the wounds on his chest and arms.

Law coughed, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, then tensed as he felt Hawkins’ fingers tracing over his right bicep. They’d pulled his yukata down to bare his skin, giving them a good look at all the fresh marks Doflamingo had left on his skin just weeks earlier.

“What happened here, Trafalgar?” Hawkins murmured, fingers moving around the scar with an eerily light touch.

Law shut his eyes, his skin crawling at the touch. His arm no longer hurt constantly, but his full strength still hadn’t returned, despite the rehab he’d done in the preceding weeks. There were, however, times he woke up grasping at his arm after dreaming of Doflamingo tearing it off then choking Law with his own hand as he demanded Law make him immortal.

“It almost looks like…” Hawkins trailed off.

Law jerked suddenly, eyes opening, as a hand slapped his face. Hawkins stood in front of him, an amused look on his face. “Did you lose your arm?” He tilted his head, considering. “That Fruit of yours could certainly put it back together.”

When Law remained silent, Hawkins apparently took it as confirmation. “Did Doflamingo take it?”

“Fuck off,” Law growled, fingers twitching in the shackles above his head.

Hawkins hummed in response, returning his attention to the scar. “Doflamingo took his time with you, didn’t he, Trafalgar? But why?”

Law hissed, body tensing again, as yet another whiplash stung his bare back.

“You’d have to ask him,” Law gritted out through his teeth. Still, he couldn’t help his lips twitching upward in a pained smirk. “A little hard now that he’s in Impel Down, though.”

Hawkins’ touch paused, and a moment later, he stood in front of Law again with a thoughtful expression. “It was personal, wasn’t it? Was that why you became a Warlord? To get at Doflamingo?”

“I fail to see why it matters.”

“Lord Kaido wants to know who he’s dealing with,” Hawkins replied, nodding at the lackey standing behind Law. “And how he can make best use of you.”

Law grunted as his back erupted in pain once more, tears stinging the corners of his eyes, and he slumped further in his shackles, the Seastone biting into his wrists and draining his strength. Still, his expression sharpened.

“Kaido can fuck right off. No one controls me.” Not ever again.

“We’ll see about that, Trafalgar,” Hawkins replied, grip tightening around Law’s arm once more. “Everyone has their breaking point. We just need to find yours.”

As he looked down, Law noted that a few of the whip marks had rounded his side to his chest, though he’d have to grab Bepo to help put more salve on the remaining marks on his back. But first, he could deal with the cuts and bruises on his chest and stomach himself. Disinfecting and redressing injuries were tasks he’d done more times than he could count, so the automatic motions—the knowledge that his hands could still heal despite the blood they had spilled—had become comforting, and he allowed his thoughts to drift as he worked.

He was so focused on the task at hand that he didn’t hear the chaos outside approaching his shack until it was too late.

“Torao!”

Law’s eyes snapped up from the wound he was tending as the door to his shack slammed open and rattled on its weakened hinges, and he cursed to himself as Luffy stood in the doorway. Law hadn’t seen the other captain in weeks while he’d been in Udon, though he’d heard the reports from Raizo about how he was doing. His first reaction at seeing Luffy—a swooping of his stomach that he’d been steadily ignoring since they’d left Dressrosa—was quickly drowned out by rising irritation. Couldn’t Law lick his wounds in peace? Yet another inconvenience caused by Straw Hat Luffy.

“Straw Hat, wait!” someone—Penguin?—yelled from outside.

“Torao,” Luffy repeated cheerfully, “there you are! I just got back, but you weren’t there, and no one had seen you in a whi—” He cut himself off as he caught sight of Law’s very obvious injuries.

“Straw Hat, you can’t just…” Bepo called as he followed Luffy into the hut, trailing off as he realized he was too late. He ducked his head in silent apology.

Law shook his head minutely at Bepo. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t stop Luffy; Luffy was a force of nature once he got an idea—and apparently he’d gotten it into his head that he needed to see Law. For whatever reason. The mink glanced between the two captains then backed out of the shack with hunched shoulders.

“Straw Hat-ya. So, you finally got out of Udon?” Law drawled, ignoring Luffy’s expression. He pushed himself slowly to his feet, using the wall to help with his balance.

“What happened?”

“I’m fine,” Law said, making to pull his sleeves back on. He was stopped though when Luffy’s hand suddenly shot out and grabbed his wrist. Law hissed as the rubbery grip tamped down on his bandaged wounds. Luffy let go like he’d been burned, his hand snapping back in an instant.

“That’s not what I asked, Torao,” Luffy said, looking Law up and down as though cataloging every bruise and scratch he could see. Law wasn’t quite sure how to read his tone. For all that Luffy seemed superficial, carrying his heart on his sleeve with no ulterior motives, Law had learned that the other captain had surprising depths that left him off-balance at the most unexpected times.  

“It doesn’t matter,” Law replied coolly. “It’s been taken care of.”

Luffy closed the distance between them and reached up hesitantly, fingers grazing over a yellowed bruise on Law’s cheek, and Law couldn’t help but flinch back. He lightly slapped Luffy’s hand down, and hurt crossed the younger man’s face.

“No one told me,” Luffy said quietly.

“Your nakama didn’t know,” Law replied, pulling his sleeves up and adjusting his sash. He’d have to finish treating his wounds later, it seemed. “Don’t be angry with them.”

Luffy frowned. “You’re nakama too, Torao.”

“It was Heart business.” It was Law’s crew that had been captured, and it had been Law’s responsibility to get them back. It didn’t help that the Straw Hats were staying with Shinobu, who had the gall to not only accuse Law’s nakama of being traitors, but also suggest killing them. He’d never forgive her for that, and he couldn’t be around her right now.

“But we’re allies.”

“And it was an ally who suggested—” Law started angrily before cutting himself off. Shit.

Luffy’s eyes widened. “Suggested what? What happened?”

“It’s nothing,” Law growled. “I’m fine. Leave it alone, Straw Hat-ya.” Law made to move past Luffy and leave the shack, but Luffy grabbed his arm; his grip wasn’t tight, as if he was worried about other injuries, but it was enough to pull Law up short.

“You’re not fine, Torao. I don’t know what happened—”

Law whirled on Luffy, his simmering irritation boiling over. “That’s right! You don’t know what happened because you weren’t here! The moment you got to Wano, you started stomping on Kin’emon’s plans then got yourself locked up in Kaido’s prison because you were reckless,” he snarled. “You were selfish, and the rest of us had to deal with the fallout.”

Luffy recoiled, dropping his hand from his Law’s arm. “Torao, I—”

“Never mind. Don’t worry about it, Straw Hat-ya.” Law pushed past Luffy and outside into the square.

The Hearts in the area took one look at Law’s expression and beat a hasty retreat. Luffy, moments later, followed Law outside.

“You’re limping,” Luffy said simply.

“I am,” Law agreed, not turning to look at his allied captain. “I’ll be fine for the raid, don’t worry.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

Law blinked at that and then did turn to look at Luffy. The other man was wringing his hands in front of him, and something about that sight caused the anger to leech out of Law completely. He sagged at the whiplash in his emotions, and Luffy jumped forward to put a steadying hand under Law’s elbow.

Fuck. What was it about this boy that made Law like this?

“I’m worried about you, Torao,” Luffy said gently, guiding him back to a bench alongside the shack’s wall. The two sat, but Luffy didn’t let Law’s arm go. Law thought about saying something but then… didn’t.

Law sighed. “Hawkins-ya.”

Luffy cocked his head curiously. “Huh?”

“Hawkins-ya took Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin captive,” Law said. “They were bait for me.”

“You gave yourself up for your nakama,” Luffy said in understanding.

“Yes.”

“But you got out.”

“Eventually, yes.”

They fell into silence, and Luffy’s hand slid from Law’s elbow to his hand. He entwined their fingers and Law… Law let him. Gods, why did he let Luffy stomp all over his boundaries like they didn’t even exist?

“I’m sorry,” Luffy said after a moment.

Law looked up from their hands in surprise. The other captain was staring at the ground in front of him, legs kicking underneath the bench.

“Straw Hat-ya?”

“I’m sorry,” Luffy repeated. “I know I don’t always listen when Torao makes plans.”

“Ever,” Law muttered. “You don’t ever listen when I make plans,” he clarified at Luffy’s confused expression.

Luffy grinned sheepishly and scratched the back of his head. “Shishishi,” he laughed. “Torao is one of the smartest people I know,” he added. “We wouldn’t be here to help Kin’emon and the samurai without you.” He shrugged, sobering. “I just… I thought our nakama were dead. And I lost it.”

Law sighed and leaned against the shack, careful of the whip marks on his back, and looked over the square his crew had emptied. He had thought much the same as Luffy in the moment Kaido had destroyed the mountain; he’d felt his world crumble beneath him at the prospect of losing his three oldest friends. For an instant, he’d been thirteen and hidden in a treasure chest as Doflamingo shot Cora-san, taking everything from him, all over again.

“I know,” Law replied quietly. He could feel Luffy’s eyes on him, though he kept his gaze forward. “And you’re right,” he added after a moment, feeling more than seeing Luffy’s comically surprised expression. “I’m not okay.” He still had a ways to go physically to fully recover from his injuries. Emotionally… between Doflamingo’s fall, reuniting with his nakama, his capture, and the impending raid, well, Law didn’t want to touch his emotional state with a ten-foot pole, but somehow, sitting here with his allied captain, it felt like he might be okay eventually.

The realization startled something in his chest.

“But you will be,” Luffy said, unknowingly echoing Law’s own thoughts.

Law squeezed Luffy’s fingers in his own. “I will be,” he agreed.

[shyvioletcat]

for striking matches au: "It looks like you have more fun with them than with me."

HAPPY HALLOWEEN! Here’s a little bit of Firefighter fun for your day.

Striking Matches Masterlist

~~~~~

Rowan sat slumped on the couch, arms crossed across his chest as he waited for Aelin to finish getting ready. It had taken him minutes to get ready, with his dark jeans and button up white shirt, a pair of lensless glasses frames tucked into the chest pocket. They were going to a Halloween party at Aedion and Lysandra’s place, and very honestly, Rowan didn’t want to go.

He and Aelin had only been going out for just a little over a month and he had met her family and friends a few times, but they definitely weren’t his friends yet. He knew what would happen tonight once they got to the party, and he would be left with two choices. One, he could follow Aelin around the whole night as she lit up the room and thrived on all the social interactions. Or two, he’d sit in a corner with a beer and watch. Considering that he’d just come off a hard shift, Rowan was feeling more inclined to do the second. The subject of him staying behind had been broached but Aelin wasn’t having it. She said it would ruin their ‘matching’ costumes and added that her friends wanted to spend more time with him. So of course Rowan relented for her. Only her.

“Alright, ready,” Aelin sang as she appeared from her bedroom. She was wearing a long black coat and a pair of black boots, her golden hair in soft waves with the ends chalked a vibrant red.

“You’re wearing that?” Rowan asked, not bothering to get up yet.

Aelin grinned at him. “No, I”m wearing this.”

She opened her jacket to show him what was underneath, and Rowan felt his eyes go wide. Aelin had decided on their costumes, they were going to the party dressed as each other professions. Rowan’s costume had been all too easy to put together, all he had to buy was a pair of cheap glasses from the discount store and pop the lenses out. Aelin had bought the entirety of hers new, unless by some design of fate she had this firefighter costume lying around. But Rowan seriously doubted that.

His eyes started at the black boots she wore – and maybe he had seen those before – but her long legs were mostly bare except for a small pair of black shorts with a trim of red on the legs and a yellow belt. A strip of her stomach was bare as well, the shirt hugged her waist and upper torso, and zip ran up the middle instead of buttons, leaving it open in a deep V as it precariously contained her cleavage. It was all topped off with a pair of suspenders that she had her thumbs hooked under as she still grinned at him.

“So, what do you think? Reckon Lorcan would let me join the team?”

Rowan blinked once before he managed to look up her face. The neckline was proving more of a distraction the longer he looked.

“Do we have to go?” Rowan blurted and Aelin tipped her head back and laughed.

“We most certainly do.” Aelin did her jacket up and grabbed her keys from the kitchen counter as well as a plastic firefighter hat. “Come on, Mr Whitethorn. Let’s go have some fun.”

Rowan was about to tell her they could have fun here, probably better fun too, but he just sighed and closed the apartment door behind him.

Aelin left her coat in the car. Rowan had parked and within seconds Aelin had deserted the car only leaving a heap of black material behind. He was quick to follow and the elevator arrived just as he got there. 

“Look at this fancy apartment building with it’s elevator,” Aelin mused as she pushed the button and then lent on the railing. “You never answered my question. You think Lorcan would let me on the team?”

Rowan turned, seeing that teasing look written on every feature of her face. “Definitely not. But that has nothing to do with the costume.”

Aelin laughed again. “You haven’t even told me if you like my costume or not. You make a very sexy Teacher if I do say so myself.”

He moved, they were chest to chest and almost touching. Then Rowan gave her a lingering once over that made Aelin breath just a little faster. Leaning in he kissed her, and he felt her smiling against his lips before she fully committed to it. The only sound was the mechanisms of the elevator, then there was the definitive sound of a zipper being pulled.

Aelin let out a comical gasp. “Mr Whitethorn, keep your hands to yourself.” 

Rowan chuckled and kissed her again, quickly, and stepped away, hands raised. 

“I was wondering how long it would take you, that was damn near obscene,” Aelin laughed, readjusting her suspenders.

He hadn’t been pulling the down, he’d been pulling it up to try and give him a little more peace of mind when he walked into the party. It was a stupid, jealous thing to do, and he expected Aelin to rip into him for it. But he was mistaken, it was all a ploy from Aelin to get his attention it seemed. The elevator arrived at the right floor and she pulled his glasses from his pocket, slipping them onto his nose before grabbing his hand and leading them out. They walked down the hallway, arriving at a door with music pulsing behind it. Aelin didn’t bother knocking and walked in, almost running into the hostess herself. Lysandra was dressed as Red Riding Hood, a bright red cape over a short green dress.

“You made it!” She nearly yelled as she hugged Aelin, obviously already a little drunk. Then her green eyes landed on him. “Nice lipstick, Rowan.”

Confused, Rowan rubbed at his mouth, his fingers coming away red. He gave Aelin an accusing look but she just grinned and rubbed away what was left of the lipstick.

“You look great,” Lysandra said, then she pointed between them. “I get it. You’re dressed as each other. Clever.”

“Thank you,” Aelin said, tucking into Rowan’s side. “Where’s Aeds?”

Lysandra waved behind her. “Somewhere. You guys have fun, now!” 

She was gone through the crowd and Rowan held onto Aelin’s hand as she led them to the drinks. He spotted Elide and a few other familiar faces, but overall there were a lot of people hadn’t seen before. Aelin waved to people she recognised, saying hello here and there, but she never let go of him. She found him a stool in a corner, letting him sit while she leaned into his chest. Aedion eventually found them, as did Elide and Lysandra, the women begging Aelin to come dance but she declined. 

Rowan could tell that she wanted to, so he leant forward and kissed her cheek. “Go have fun love, I’m fine here.”

She turned to face him then said hopefully. “You could always come dance with me.”

“I don’t think so,” Rowan said, shaking his head. 

Aelin pouted at him but she didn’t push him. “I’ll be back soon I promise.”

True to her word Aelin came back after a few dances, Rowan’s eyes had been drinking her in the whole time and she made sure to send him flirty smiles as she did. That costume combined with the way she moved was nearly driving him insane. But soon after she arrived she was dragged off again for a game of beer pong with Aedion. As a team the two cousins were unstoppable and by the time she wandered back to Rowan again she was definitely a little tipsy. She threw her arms around his neck, leaning fully into him.

“Come dance with me, please?” Aelin begged. 

That smile was almost his undoing but then a voice he actually recognised sounded from behind her.

“There you are. Not surprised to see you hiding in a corner, Whitethorn.”

Looking up Rowan saw Fenrys and Aelin turned to face him as well. 

“You made it!” She exclaimed.

It was then that Rowan took in exactly what Fenrys was wearing… or not wearing. He had worn most of his work uniform, just about everything except his shirt. Even with the jacket over the top Rowan could tell that he’s taken care to oil up his bare chest beneath, only ever so slightly covered by his suspenders. He lent his elbow on Aelin’s shoulder, and looking at the two of them they were the ones that looked like they had come dressed to match.

Fenrys tilted his head. “Who are you supposed to be? Clark Kent?”

Rowan crossed his arms over his chest but it was Aelin who answered. “No he’s a teacher. You get it?”

“Oh, yep yep. I get it,” Fenrys said nodding. “You’ve swapped professions. And, might I just say Miss Galathynius, you make a fine firefighter.” 

Aelin shoved him. “Come on, I’ll get you a drink.”

Getting a drink turned into a few dances, followed by a game of magnetic darts and then at least three songs worth of awful karaoke. In between the activities Aelin and Fenrys wandered away from each other, but always seemed to find the other again. At one point Fenrys came over to drop off his jacket now that he was getting a little warm, Rowan had even rolled his sleeves up to his elbows for a little relief.

Rowan fixed his coworker with a look. “You know you’re not supposed to wear your uniform outside of work.”

Fenrys’ reply was a shrug and a grin.

“You look like a stripper,” Rowan added and Fenrys let out an incredulous laugh.

“We all gotta live a little sometimes,” Fenrys said before disappearing to Aelin’s side again.

Rowan felt himself getting more sullen by the second, watching how Aelin and Fenrys smiled and had fun together. It was moments like this that Rowan wished he was more… sociable. More willing to put himself out there in situations like this, but instead he was sitting in a dark corner by himself, with only Fenrys’ jacket for company. Aelin wandered back to him, her hands immediately going to his face to make her look at him.

“What is it?” She asked him.

“It’s nothing,” Rowan said and she tried to shake Aelin off but she kept hold of him and just lent in closer.

“What. Is. It.”

Rowan sighed. “It looks like you have more fun with him than with me.”

Aelin smirked. “And him meaning Fenrys.”

Rowan nodded.

That smirk turned into a coy smile and she slotted herself between his legs, his hands finding her waist. “Well maybe if you got off this stool and came out to play.”

Rowan started to frown but Aelin kept his attention. “Hey, I’m kidding. I get it. Funny thing is that I invited him so you would have someone to talk to. Maybe I should have invited Lorcan instead, except he’d never say yes to me.” Rowan managed a laugh at that. “And I definitely don’t have more fun with Fen, trust me.” Aelin added earnestly.

“It certainly looks like it,” Rowan grumbled.

Aelin slid that much closer, her mouth right by his ear. “Oh yeah? Well, would I ever let him…”

She whispered in his ear, so close the breath that accompanied her words tickled his skin, making him break out in goosebumps. They were words that described something obscene about sliding on fire poles, on his fire pole to be exact. When she pulled away Aelin’s smile was feline and Rowan felt his cheeks heat.

“Can we go now, please?” Rowan’s voice was nowhere near as smooth or confident as he wanted it to be.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Aelin said. Rowan stood and went to take his glasses off but Aelin stopped him, her hands running up his arms to where his sleeves were rolled up. “You’ll be leaving those on. All night, if you please, Mr Whitethorn.” 

~~~~~

Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed this silliness. 

Tags:

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[winryofresembool]

Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 36

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: New Year’s Eve

A/N: Oops, I'm late again. But this is the longest chapter so far (over 6k words) so I hope you can forgive me for that!

This chapter finally brings back some friends we haven't seen in a while and introduces a couple of new ones too. I'm not gonna lie, having read ToA just once about a year ago, my characterization is probably very off so my apologies for that!

Now, hope you guys enjoy this mega chapter! Please let me know what you think! It's suuper important.

Words: 6,2k��

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / AO3

…

After the boxing day Leo and Calypso returned back to their flat and the ‘normal’ life. Calypso already started remembering the downsides of working at a flower shop as it was a surprisingly busy time of the year with the wealthy people of that area wanting some flowers for their New Year celebrations. She and her boss Demi were the only two running the shop between the holidays while the second assistant was on a break. The older woman promised Calypso a day off for New Year’s eve, though, claiming that young people like her should be having fun that day instead of working. She graciously accepted the offer even though she didn’t have any plans for that day; after the eventful Christmas she kind of just wanted to stay at the flat with Leo.

But as it happened, Hazel texted her the day before the eve that she was having a small ‘gathering’ with a few friends and since Calypso hadn’t seen her for several weeks due to the work and a break from the art classes, she told Hazel that she would come. When she had asked Leo how he would feel about it, he had offered to go with her. Usually he would have spent the New Year Eve at Jason and Piper’s annual party but it was not happening this year due to their complicated situation. The flatmates had still decided to not tell Hazel or Frank about their own, developed situation, because they hadn’t even told Leo’s parents yet.

“So what is this Hazel like?” Leo asked Calypso as they were getting prepared for the evening out. “She doesn’t mind a stranger coming to her party, right?”

Calypso almost missed his question because of Leo’s current state of shirtlessness. A moment earlier he had wanted to know if she thought he should wear a light red or a white shirt to the party and hadn’t bothered to put either of them on yet. Not that she minded. No, her boyfriend definitely was not a bad sight with his tan, strong body, a quiet voice in her head said. “Oh no, she doesn’t mind,” Calypso finally remembered to answer. “I think she was even happy to hear you are coming with me. Besides, you have met Frank before, so technically you are not a complete stranger.”

“Are those two dating?” Leo asked.

“No, they are not. Not officially, at least. Hazel likes him but due to various reasons they have decided they shouldn’t rush it. Sounds kind of familiar to me.” Calypso looked at him significantly.

“It does? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Leo raised his eyebrows, and Calypso nudged him on the arm playfully.

“Anyway, Hazel is great. She is the kind of person who seems really sweet on the surface but she would probably kick your behind if needed. She’s also kind of mysterious when it comes to her own story but I feel I can trust her. I may have even accidentally slipped her once that my flatmate is kind of neat.” She smiled at him shyly.

“Oh? So you’ve talked about me to her.” Leo grinned in response. “Hope you remembered to mention my good looks and quick wit…”

“Yep, and your modesty,” Calypso shook her head. “Seriously speaking, though, I find her very inspiring. Despite everything she’s been through, she’s thriving to do the things she enjoys, and she’s an incredible artist. Better than I, for sure.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. I like your art.”

Calypso was happy and slightly flustered about Leo’s compliment but she wanted to explain herself. “I’m not selling myself short; I am just telling the truth. She really is that great.”

Leo raised his hand. “Alright, I believe you.”

“Good. Uh, hey, how should I wear my hair for the party?” Calypso asked as she stepped in front of a hallway mirror, taking some hairpins into her hands.

“I… I like it the way it is?” Leo looked at her with slight disbelief, as if he couldn’t believe that she didn’t like her current hairdo.

“Thanks… I don’t know. I could leave it mostly free but maybe I’ll add some waves.” Calypso wasn’t quite sure why she cared so much how she looked because that wasn’t like her, but she figured it might have had something to do with her being nervous about meeting new people at the party. Hazel and Frank were probably the only ones she knew there, after all. Her paying attention to her looks definitely didn’t have anything to do with the fact that she liked it when Leo gave her that special look that he reserved only for her.

“Sunshine, just so you know, you are the kind of person who will always stand out no matter what you wear. Me? Well, you could perform your magic on me but I’d still look like Santa’s elf.”

Calypso couldn’t believe that her boyfriend clearly had no idea of the effect he had had on her only a moment earlier (and still had). “Leo, don’t let this get to your head but I think there's a certain charm in your elf ears.” She took one of his earlobes between her fingers and tugged it gently.

Leo’s eyes brightened at her comment.

“If that’s what you think, then screw what anyone else says.”

“That’s the spirit,” Calypso approved, letting go of his ear and almost leaning close enough to give him a cheek kiss, but then she withdrew quickly. Leo looked quite disappointed. “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked teasingly.

“I thought that you were going to kiss me,” Leo replied honestly.

“I’ve heard that there’s a habit that you kiss your partner at midnight on New Year’s. It’s not midnight yet, is it?” Calypso blinked innocently.

“No, but…” Leo couldn’t come up with any arguments to Calypso’s statement so he didn’t finish his sentence.

“Sometimes good things are worth waiting for,” Calypso finished with a smile and withdrew into her room to change her clothes. While doing that, she admitted to herself that this phase where everything was so new was pretty exciting.

…

A little bit later Calypso was dressed up in a dark blue short dress, tying the bracelet she had gotten on Christmas around her wrist when Leo got out of his room. He had switched his usual mechanic’s overalls to a white collarless shirt, suspenders, and pinstripe pants. Calypso had a feeling that he would have also put his tool belt on if that had been socially acceptable. To her surprise, he seemed to have even tried to flatten his curly hair a little, although it hadn’t quite worked out.

“Wow, look at you. The only thing you’re missing right now is a hat,” she noted, ruffling his hair a little. What she actually meant was that she thought he actually looked very nice in his current clothes. It was quite different from what she was used to seeing on him – even at school Leo usually wore a casual t-shirt or a hoodie and worn jeans – but she didn’t mind either look. Leo frowned at her, though.

“Don’t look so concerned,” Calypso continued with amusement. “I just meant that you kind of remind me of some film stars of the past. I just can’t get my finger on who. It’s a compliment, though.”

Leo’s frown disappeared. “Alright, thanks.” Then he took a second look at her and his eyes got that funny gleam he always got when he was about to say something embarrassing. “Woah, Sunshine. I’m suspecting that you are made of copper and tellurium.”

“And why’s that, mister chemistry nerd?” she asked, although she could pretty much guess his answer.

“Because you’re CuTe.”

Calypso shook her head in disbelief, but couldn’t hide her smile. “Really, Leonidas? Out of all the cheesy pick up lines in the world you chose that one?”

“Nothing wrong with chemistry puns, mi sol,” Leo claimed. “But I do think that you, um, clean up nicely.”

“As do you,” Calypso admitted, feeling the warmth gathering to her cheeks. “But we should probably get going now before we melt each other with these compliments. It’s getting pretty late already,” she noted when she checked the clock of her phone before dropping it back into her purse.

“Okay, I’m as ready as I can be,” Leo replied and tugged a strand of Calypso’s hair gently before picking his keys and heading to the door after her.

…

Frank and Hazel lived on a different campus than Leo and Calypso so it took them a while to find it. The party was organized in Frank’s flat because it was bigger than Hazel’s. The latter had explained that Frank had applied for a two-room flat because he had several pets (who would however be spending their New Year at Frank’s granny) and he was lucky enough to be able to afford it due to his work and because he had inherited his mother.

“I’m not sure what I was expecting but not this,” Calypso told Leo when she noticed a cat tree and a big pile of toys for both cats and dogs in one corner of the house. “For some reason I pictured him having a gym or something in one of his rooms.”

“I guess never judge a book by its cover,” they heard a voice behind them say. Calypso felt heat rise on her face as she realized the speaker was Hazel.

“H-hi, Hazel!” Calypso stuttered. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Hazel waved her hand when she noticed Calypso’s expression. “I can see why you would imagine that.”

“Well, I shouldn’t have assumed anything either way,” Calypso muttered. “What about you, though? What is your place like? I really should visit you some time.”

“Way smaller and I have a couple of flatmates there. But to be honest? I like it that way. My father tried to buy me a new apartment several times but something always happened to those places, like they were cursed or something. One burned, one had some water damage, one was full of bugs… But I was able to get my current place because I do some odd jobs for a neighbor. So far nothing weird has happened.”

“Not that it’s any of my business, but didn’t you once tell me that your father doesn’t contact you all too often? Yet he was going to buy you an entire apartment? Calypso asked, confused.

“I think it’s because he’s proud as hell,” Hazel shrugged. “His cousin or something - a president at your uni, I think - bought his son an entire house in a nice area, and my father just couldn’t let him flex about it. Well, his plan didn’t quite work out as I just told you.”

“Wait, the son of our uni’s president… then do you happen to know Jason Grace?” Calypso asked, connecting the dots in her head.

“Yes, I do,” Hazel answered. “A distant cousin. We lived in San Francisco at the same time for a little while until he moved away. And now we’re somehow both here. Small world.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. Jason is Leo’s good friend. And this is Leo, by the way,” Calypso introduced, feeling weirdly happy about being able to introduce him to her friend, even if they were still keeping their relationship status a secret.

However, soon Calypso noticed that Hazel took Leo’s appearance in for a moment longer than was necessary and she couldn’t help but feel just a little bit uneasy even though she knew that she didn’t actually have a reason for that. Leo was dating her, and Hazel seemed very interested in Frank. But there was something unusual about her stare, and she couldn’t figure out what it was.

“Hello, Leo.” Hazel seemed to return back to her regular self as she shook his hand, although the color of her cheeks might have been a tiny bit darker than a moment ago. “I’m Hazel. Calypso never stops talking about you at our art classes. I’m not entirely sure if it’s extremely adorable or a little annoying.”

“What?” Leo turned towards her and she couldn’t stop herself from blushing. “Cal, I didn’t know that you are constantly talking about me behind my back! Hope they have been good things, at least.” “Don’t worry, they’ve been nothing but good things,” Hazel reassured him, glancing at Calypso mischievously.

While Hazel’s teasing reassured Calypso that she had simply imagined her interest in Leo, they were getting dangerously close to the relationship topic, so she tried to change the course of the conversation. “Hazel, you didn’t have to tell him that! Now he won’t stop boasting for the next two weeks,” she said exaggeratedly even though in reality she was secretly kind of happy that Leo heard about her compliments.

“Sorry, Caly,” Hazel grinned at her, not looking particularly sorry. Then she leaned closer to her, whispering. “Just a little help from a friend. I thought you were going to get together during your vacation!”

“Th-thanks, but that really isn’t necessary,” Calypso whispered back, hoping that her acting was good enough to convince Hazel that she and Leo hadn’t made any progress yet. To her relief, her friend got distracted when a guy who was at least a head, maybe even more, taller than Hazel, with dark, short hair appeared next to her.

“There you are,” the guy said. “Nico was wondering if…” When he realized they had company, he gave them a polite smile.

“Oh, hi! Nice to see you guys!”

“You both have met Frank before, right?” Hazel asked.

“Yep,” Leo confirmed. “Frank thought I was a bad dog owner, but quite frankly, that was an understandable mistake.”

“How is your dog doing now?” Frank wanted to know. “Hope he’s good?”

“Never better! He enjoyed following Calypso everywhere while we were at Waystation over Christmas,” Leo replied happily.

“So are you two…?” Frank turned his head between Calypso and Leo. Calypso couldn’t help but wonder how many times they would still be asked that question that evening.

“No, no, no,” Leo denied. “That’s crazy talk. Right Cal? She just came with me because it was a better option than spending the holidays alone in our flat.” Calypso nodded along even though she didn’t like that they had to lie to their friends. But it was her who had made the decision to not tell them.

“Yeah. We’re just flatmates,” she confirmed.

Luckily, Frank didn’t ask more. Again, Calypso noticed that Hazel was staring at Leo with that mysterious expression on her face and she was already going to ask if something was wrong when Hazel addressed Leo:

“Have we… Have we met before? I mean, before tonight? You look so familiar to me but you can’t be…” She frowned.

“I don’t think so?” Leo seemed a bit confused. “Not that I remember, at least.”

“Oh… alright. I guess you just really look like someone I used to know. You haven’t ever lived in New Orleans, have you?”

“No, I haven’t,” Leo shook his head. “I’m originally from Texas. And yeah, I’ve also lived in a few other states for short periods of time when I was moving from a foster home to foster home but never in Louisiana.”

“Alright, sorry for bothering you about that,” Hazel said.

“It’s OK. Now that I think of it, though… I did have some distant relatives in that area, but I haven’t seen those people since I was a baby.”

“Really? What’s their last name?” Hazel seemed to get more interested again.

“Valdez, like mine. I think the mom of the boy who was around my age was my mom’s cousin or something like that. Why? Do you know them?”

“Yeah… Possibly… The boy’s name is Sammy Valdez. Does that sound familiar?”

“Hmmm…” Leo stopped to think about it. “Maybe. The boy’s name did start with S. I’ve seen pictures of me playing with another kid who looked a lot like me in our relatives’ yard but I think I literally met him just once. I was like one back then.”

Hazel seemed a little bit disappointed by Leo’s answer. “Alright. Sorry, it’s just that Sammy used to be my only real friend until I moved away from there and I was just wondering if you knew anything about how he’s doing now. I guess you don’t.”

“No, can’t say I do. My fam… well, they weren’t particularly accepting of me after what happened to my mom…” Leo said bitterly. “One of my aunts spread some sick lies… So, yeah, I moved to a foster home and haven’t seen any of my relatives since then.”

“I understand…” Hazel said sympathetically. Calypso imagined that Leo must have been grateful that Hazel didn’t question him more about what had happened. “Sorry, this is not a good topic to talk about at a party. My curiosity just got the best of me, that’s all.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Leo waved his hand dismissively. “Let’s just move on.”

“I agree. Frank, were you going to say something about Nico before you got interrupted?” Hazel turned to him.

“Oh yeah,” Frank remembered. “Nico wanted to know if it’s OK that Will comes here a bit later. He’s working today, apparently.”

“No problem,” Hazel replied. “We may not have a lot of food and drinks left by that point, though, but he’s gonna have to deal with that.”

“Nico? Not Nico di Angelo, by any chance?” Leo joined the conversation.

“Yep, that’s him. He’s my half brother. I know, we look nothing alike,” Hazel commented when she noticed Leo’s expression.

“No, I was just surprised that you know him and Jason too… Soon you’ll probably tell us you know Percy Jackson too.”

“I’ve heard stories of him from the others,” Hazel chuckled. “But no, haven’t met him personally, at least yet.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you met him some time soon,” Leo predicted.

Calypso felt she had already been quiet uncomfortably long, just listening to Leo and Hazel talk and trying to figure out what to make of it. She couldn’t deny that she had felt a bit jealous at first but when she had learned that Hazel had only seemed that interested in him because he had looked like an old friend of hers, she had relaxed somewhat. Maybe the trust issues were a result of many failed relationships, if she could call them that given that most of them hadn’t lasted too long. Cursing herself for her unnecessary thoughts, she asked:

“So, is there anyone else I know here besides Nico?”

“I invited Rachel from our art classes too,” Hazel answered. “You remember her, right? She said she was really happy to spend the New Year’s Eve in any place that isn’t his father’s penthouse.”

Calypso remembered Rachel as a really enthusiastic and unique artist. She herself tended to try to make her art look a bit more simplistic while you really had to stop and look at Rachel’s art to be able to see its many dimensions.

“Yep, I remember her,” Calypso responded. “I’ve often thought about talking to her but there’s something a bit… intimidating about her, like she knows something about me that even I don’t know…” “She’s fine, though, when you learn to know her,” Hazel reassured her.

“That’s nice to know. If I see her, I’ll say hi.”

“Good,” Hazel nodded.

“Hey, Sunshine,” Leo nudged her on the arm. “I’m getting hungry. Maybe we should go and get something to eat.”

“Somehow he is already hungry even though he ate at home before we left,” Calypso said in disbelief. “How’s that even possible, Repair Boy?” Then she realized how the nicknames may have sounded to the others’ ears so she hurried to add: “Um, sorry, we’re used to using nicknames at our flat. With everyone. I’m Sunshine, Jason is a Lightning Boy and so on. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure he won’t eat everything!”

“It’s OK, there’s plenty for everyone. Also, if you plan to dance at some point tonight, watch out for my pink haired friend Lavinia. She is a little bit eager about tap dancing.”

“I don’t think we are gonna dance…” Calypso cursed herself for blushing like a teenager when she pictured herself going for a slow dance with Leo, standing as close to him as possible. “…But thanks for the warning.” Then she waved at the hosts quickly and started dragging Leo out of the room.

“Well? What do you think of my friends?” Calypso whispered when they were picking some nachos on their plates and no one was in the hearing distance.

“Hazel seems cool,” Leo replied nonchalantly. “But you really think I pay attention to anyone else when I have my amazing girlfriend next to me?”

“You’re so cheesy, Leo,” Calypso said but gave him her brightest smile. She might have also kissed him if it weren’t for the other people nearby and the fact that she was carrying a plate full of food.

“Part of my charm, babe,” Leo claimed, giving her that stupid grin that never failed to make her feel things. He sat down on an unoccupied chair near the table and started enjoying his nachos. “Hey, these are really good! You gotta try them.”

“Babe? I thought we already had our nickname discussion,” Calypso interrupted him. She sat down next to him but didn’t taste her nachos yet, instead expecting his answer.

“But it’s better than Mamacita, isn’t it?” Leo asked innocently.

Calypso couldn’t argue with that logic. “Well, yes, it is, but… maybe you should stick to Sunshine. Or just Cal. I’m not… huge on pet names. I’m just not used to them.”

Thankfully Leo seemed to understand. “Alright. I won’t call you a babe, then. My mom just used to say ‘a dear child has many names’ and it seems that has stuck with me. I think she meant that we have a tendency to give nicknames to those we care about. Maybe that’s the reason why I sometimes go a bit extra with the names I give you guys… especially you.”

“Oh. I see.”

There was something weirdly sweet about Leo’s reasoning behind his nicknames and Calypso couldn’t help but smile down at her food. She didn’t realize she had been lost in her thoughts for a moment until Leo said:

“Earth’s calling Calypso. Try this,” Leo handed her a nacho that had some sauce she wasn’t familiar with on it.

“Chili?” she asked when she tasted it and felt a slight sting on her tongue. It wasn’t a bad sensation, though; this sauce was notably milder than the one Leo had once fed her. “You really find ways to make me eat it.”

“Admit it: you liked it.”

Calypso was feeling a little brave because they were somehow still alone in the room: “Make me.”

Leo was about to lean closer to her when someone entered the room without a warning.

“Uh… Hi!” Nico di Angelo finally reacted to their presence when Calypso and Leo jumped a bit farther from each other.

“Hi, Nico,” Leo greeted him. “I wasn’t expecting to see anyone I know here but it looks like I was wrong.”

“Seems so,” Nico replied, not in a mood for small talk.

“So how is it going?” Leo asked. “And how’s Will?”

“It’s going,” Nico shrugged, combing some of his long bangs to the side with his fingers. “Been trying to take it easy lately. Doctor’s orders. Will works as an intern at a hospital and turns out they really needed his help on New Year’s Eve so he’s not here yet. Something about lots of fireworks related accidents and so on…”

“Fireworks suck,” Leo commented, and Calypso noticed an angry spark in his eyes. “They feel like such a waste of money and they cause people to lose their eyes and such.”

Calypso wondered if Leo’s hatred towards the fireworks had something to do with the fact that fire was involved but she decided to ask about it later.

“Tell me about it,” Nico agreed. “Anyway, how do you two know Hazel and Frank?”

Calypso briefly explained how she had met Hazel at the art class and Leo told Nico about Festus’ vet visit.

“Somehow Hazel even knows my second cousin from Louisiana. How crazy is that?” Leo marveled.

“Pretty crazy, yeah,” Nico admitted, not contributing more to the topic so Leo decided to ask about something else.

“You haven’t happened to hear anything about Jason or Piper lately? I accidentally ran into Piper at Christmas and she seemed to be doing OK then, but… I’m still a bit worried about them.”

“I don’t really know much.” Nico replied vaguely. “Just that Jason hasn’t been home much lately. He’s always training, or with Percy and Annabeth or… I dunno. Just avoiding dealing with the situation. Or that’s at least how Will has interpreted his behavior. He’s way better at reading others than I am.”

Leo let out a frustrated sigh. “If only those two talked it out, said what they really thought…”

Calypso couldn’t help but see the amusing side of Leo’s statement. She started chuckling at him and both Leo and Nico gave her perplexed looks.

“What’s so funny about this? I was trying to be serious, Cal.” He narrowed his eyes, folding his arms over his chest.

That only made Calypso even more amused. “I know, I know! I’m sorry. It’s just that… don’t you think that’s a little bit ironic coming from your mouth?”

“From my mouth…?”

Nico still looked like he understood nothing about what was going on, but Leo had at least a tendency to blush when he realized that Calypso was right.

“Oh, this is totally different!” he claimed. “I, um, have my reasons to keep my mouth shut in certain situations. But those two… they’re just being weird.”

“I’m not even trying to follow this conversation anymore,” Nico stated, going to gather some chips and a beer from the food table. “Will would probably be able to translate Leo’s incoherent speech but he’s not here so I’m just gonna eat quietly now.”

Leo gave him an annoyed look and focused on his own food for a while. Once finished, he told Calypso that he wanted to see where the rest of the guests were. Calypso, relieved that Nico hadn’t apparently connected the dots about their relationship, agreed to follow him, but soon she realized that it might have been a mistake when Leo was walking towards the dancing area.

Being on the dance floor usually meant that you were expected to dance.

And she was not ready to dance. At all.

First of all, she hadn’t danced in years and while Calypso usually wasn’t too self conscious about those kinds of things, she still didn’t want to embarrass herself in front of Leo and the others. Second of all, she was quite sure that people would speculate - again - if they saw her dancing with Leo and she didn’t want that. She may have told Hazel about her crush some time ago and she did trust her, but who knew what kind of connections the other people in the room had?

Suddenly she realized that she was being paranoid. The people at this party were in their late teens or early twenties and probably had never even heard of her father. And why would they care if she was dancing with him? That was a normal thing to do at parties. It didn’t automatically have to mean anything.

There were already a lot of people gathered on the dance floor when the roommates arrived there. A few were dancing a bit farther from the rest of the group, while the others were watching a pink haired girl with real tap dance shoes on showing her skills. She must have been Lavinia, Calypso concluded. And based on her determined look, she seemed ready to challenge anyone who dared to pass by into a dance battle.

“Lavi!” Hazel’s voice came from behind Calypso. “Are you showing off again?”

The group that was standing in front of Lavinia moved from her way, and Calypso got a better look at her. Her shoulder length hair was flying freely and she was wearing a purple T-shirt and black pants to go with her shoes. Calypso also noticed that even though she had stopped dancing, one of her feet still kept tapping quietly on the floor, as if she was unable to stand still.

“Sorry, Hazel. Couldn’t help myself,” Lavinia muttered, and Hazel’s expression softened a bit. Calypso was still surprised to see this side of her because usually she seemed very kind, but clearly she still had authority even over people who were way bigger and older than her whenever it was needed.

“It’s OK! But try to let the others dance too, and not just tap dance.”

“Alright,” Lavinia answered but rolled her eyes when Hazel didn’t look. Calypso could hear her whisper to the closest people: “She just doesn’t understand the art of tap dance.”

Soon after that, the people in the room started dividing into smaller groups, some trying to chat over the loud music, some dancing. Calypso and Leo tried to spot some familiar faces but Hazel had already disappeared somewhere and Frank, Nico and Rachel weren't nearby either. Just when Leo opened his mouth to ask something, Calypso noticed that Lavinia, who had stopped dancing, was approaching them.

“Hi. We haven’t met before,” Lavinia started.

“Yeah, hi. I’m Calypso. Hazel’s friend from the art classes.” She shook Lavinia’s hand and then turned towards Leo. “This is my b… flatmate Leo. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Lavinia Asimov. Hazel and I used to go to the same school,” Lavinia said, but Calypso couldn’t help but notice that even when she was shaking hands with Leo, she was actually eyeing her.

“That’s cool,” Calypso replied casually although she was starting to feel slightly weird because of the staring.

“So, Calypso, do you know how to dance?” Lavinia asked.

“Not really, I just know some very basics,” she replied. “Haven’t danced in years, to be honest.”

“I could teach you, you know,” Lavinia blurted.

“Really?” Calypso asked, slightly confused by the other girl’s eagerness.

“Sure, why not? I’m pretty good.” Lavinia grinned at her.

“Do you mean now or...?”

“Now or whenever you’d like.” The girl twirled a strand of her pink hair around her finger as she spoke.

It took Calypso a moment to realize that Lavinia was actually trying to flirt with her in her own way.

“Hold on. I’m really flattered, but… I’m already taken.” Calypso rubbed the back of her head. From the corner of her eye she could see Leo’s stance getting more relaxed when he heard her answer. “Sorry. You seem like a cool person, though.”

Lavinia seemed visibly disappointed by Calypso’s response. “Are you taken by him?” She pointed at Leo judgingly. “You could do better than that.”

Calypso wasn’t sure what to answer, given that she wasn’t supposed to reveal their secret to anyone, but to her relief Leo cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Miss Pink? We literally just met; what makes you think you know what kind of person I am? You’re right in one thing, though,” he continued before Lavinia could reply. “Namely, she is way out of my league. And her boyfriend would probably kill me if I looked at her in the wrong way.”

“But… didn’t you just say you two are flatmates?” Lavinia asked suspiciously.

“Oh, yeah,” Leo responded quickly. “Cal’s boyfriend lives far from our uni so it was more convenient for her to get a flat from somewhere nearer to it. He knows he can trust me.”

Calypso wasn’t sure what amused (and scared) her more: the lies Leo came up with or the way he managed to sound that convincing even though he was literally coming up with the story as he spoke. At least Hazel wasn’t listening because she probably wouldn’t have bought it. Eventually Calypso decided she needed to contribute to the story as well.

“Besides, my boyfriend knows that I would kick Leo’s ass if he ever did anything inappropriate.”

Calypso noticed that Leo’s mouth was twitching slightly, but he quickly pulled the poker face back on and rushed to nod along.

“Totally. I wouldn’t wanna try that.”

Lavinia finally seemed convinced enough. “Alright. Well… I think I’ll go and find something to drink now. Dancing makes me thirsty.”

“Okay, we might see you later.” Calypso nodded at her before she disappeared from view. Once they were sure that she was far enough, she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Whew, she really seemed convinced we are dating,” she whispered to Leo. “I was worried she wouldn’t believe us. Also, Mister Not-boyfriend, I’ll have you know I do not approve of lying but in this case it was probably for the best. So thanks.”

Leo grinned at her. “You’re welcome. Geez, Sunshine, do you see the effect you have on people? Everyone is falling on your feet.”

Calypso blushed a bit. “It’s a bit weird… I am not used to getting attention.”

“You’ll get used to it once I shower you with the Leo love,” he whispered and Calypso blushed even harder.

“Gods, Leo! Don’t say that here!” Calypso peeked around and was relieved to see that no one they knew was nearby.

“Couldn’t resist,” he claimed but then got more serious. “Uh, so… do you think dancing would be pushing the line that we have set?”

“It probably would,” Calypso said a bit sadly. “Maybe when we’re home, though.” She added quietly.

Leo seemed pleasantly surprised by her answer. “Oh! Okay. I’ll be looking forward to that.”

“Hey, listen,” Calypso spoke again. “Maybe we should split up for a moment. Nico and Frank could probably use your company and I’d like to catch up with Hazel a bit since I haven’t had a chance yet. Is that alright with you?”

“Sure, go ahead,” Leo nodded. “I need to make sure that Nico doesn’t eat all the miniburgers from the bar.”

Calypso chuckled. “Alright. Save some for me too! I've only tasted the nachos so far!”

“I will try,” Leo replied, emphasizing the word try. “Well, see you in a bit!” He waved at her.

Once Leo had disappeared, Calypso started looking for Hazel and found her from the balcony with Rachel and a couple of other friends of hers, watching the fireworks from the distance.

“Hi, you guys,” she greeted. “Looks like nice weather for the fireworks show.”

“Yep, it is,” Hazel agreed. “So… how did your little vacation go?” She went straight to the topic, smiling at Calypso slightly mischievously. “You and Leo seemed pretty chummy over there.”

“Chummy?” Calypso laughed awkwardly. “I don’t even know what that means,” she lied, trying to use the fact that she wasn’t a native English speaker as her advantage. “But the vacation was pretty good. Sure, there were some ups and downs as you can expect when you’re spending the holidays in a new place with people you don’t know very well, but overall? I had a good time.”

“I can almost see with my own eyes what exactly happened there now…” Hazel rolled her eyes. “Come on. Give me some details. Please tell me that some progress has happened.”

“But there really is not much to tell,” Calypso insisted. “I taught Leo’s little sister Georgina some baking and sewing and stuff like that and helped with the Christmas preparations and met some new people… Oh! And Leo’s family has an animal shelter; they had some adorable dogs and cats and…”

Hazel looked less enthusiastic when she realized that Calypso really was not going to tell her any news about her and Leo.

“So… nothing really happened?” she asked.

“No,” Calypso said as convincingly as she could. “Although we did have a good talk one day and I feel that we can be more open towards each other now. But we are not together. It’s not the right time for that yet.”

Hazel tilted her head, still unconvinced. “I heard Lavinia talking about you a moment ago, though. Something about some guy not realizing how lucky he was.”

Calypso started feeling she was reaching the limits of her acting skills, but she tried her best. “I… uh, may have told her that I was taken to make things less awkward. Sorry, I know that was extremely rude of me.”

“No worries,” Hazel reassured her. “I’m sure she’ll get over it quickly. Besides, I happen to know that there’s someone she really really likes and hasn’t just found the courage to ask her out yet.”

“Oh, I see. Well, I hope she manages to do that at some point.”

The girls proceeded to talk about other things, such as Hazel’s vacation, the foster animals of Waystation and their expectations on the upcoming art classes, with Rachel joining the conversation as well. Calypso was just laughing at Rachel’s story about the many uses of a hair brush (she had used one for painting and another for threatening her teacher who had misbehaved towards her) when Nico rushed into the balcony, looking even paler than usual.

“Calypso, I think you should come. Something’s not right with Leo.”

[demonwifey]

Mommy’s Kissing Who?🎄🎅🏻

Hey guys! Hope you all had a safe and amazing holiday! So this idea literally came to me right after listening to “I Saw Mommy Kissing Beetlejuice” and knew I had to post it for you guys to see. While you’re reading this just keep in mind I didn’t make the reader’s daughter Skye even though she was the one signing it. I’m bad at names so you’ll see the daughter go by she and her for the entire thing. Think about if you had a daughter and what you would name her. Hope you guys enjoy!💚💜🖤  

Beetlejuice x black+fem!reader

Warnings: cursing, hints of sexual themes

Word count: 3,688

“I can’t believe I’m gonna ask this but, Beej, just please try to be on your best behavior.” You practically begged, clasping your hands together near your chest for added effect. 

The demon man let out a hearty laugh before snapping his suspenders against his chest. His costume was like a mix between his normal suit and an actual Santa costume: red and white striped, his regular boots, and a Santa hat to top it off. You thought his overgrown green beard would’ve been a giveaway to your child at least. 

“Come on, babes. Give me a little credit! I’m gonna be the best damn Santa these twerps have ever seen.” He reassured you. His confidence should’ve made you feel at ease but it didn’t. No that it mattered, it was too late to turn back now. You both looked up as the Scout Leader announced his arrival from outside the small room you two were in, basically queuing him to come out. 

“It’s Showtime, babes.” He said to you and gave a flirtatious wink before walking out to the young girls yelling in excitement. 

You watched as they all scurried to huddle around him. You watched your daughter closely, thankfully she didn’t recognize Beej and the other girls didn’t notice anything off. Maybe he was right, you should’ve given him more credit. You straightened your dress and fixed your hair out before making your way over the other parents as they all watched with joy. 

“HO HO HO! Merry Christmas, you little shits!” You heard him yell loudly across the room. 

You stopped in your tracks and your eyes widened almost comically at the sentence you just heard. You prayed to any other worldly being out there that it was only your imagination. When you looked up at the other parents, you could see it wasn’t. Their faces matched yours and they quickly turned their eyes towards you. Yeah, this was going to be one long night. 

****

You didn’t know how you could’ve ended up in a worse position. You were in charge of one thing for the Girl Scout’s Christmas party: get someone to play Santa Claus and have him hand out the girls merit badges. All the other parent’s handled things like food, decorations, etc. It’s not like it was a hard task for you to do. Hell, you found and booked a guy at the beginning of the month. Everything was fine on your end, until two days ago. Your Santa Claus called saying he was sick with the flu. You’d already had a few mishaps with Girl Scout events in the past, so this was your chance to show the other parents that you weren’t a total screw up. Yet here you were on your laptop, scrambling through different websites to try and find a new person to play Santa. 

“Hey Mommy, which shoes should I wear for the party tomorrow?” You heard your daughter’s perky voice ask from behind you. As a reflex, you quickly slammed your laptop screen down and looked at her with wide eyes. She stood behind the couch with each hand holding one shoe from a different pair. 

“Hmm, I think I like the black ones better. They’ll match your badge belt.” You faked a casual tone. 

She looked at the shoe you chose, like she was thinking for a moment, before nodding in excited agreement and running back to her room. You strained a smile as you watched her go before letting out a frustrated sigh and once you heard her door close. You were doing this, not just for the other girls, but for her as well. Your daughter always got so excited when someone mentioned Santa. How shitty would you feel if you had to watch her face turn to disappointment when they were all told Santa wasn’t coming? The mental image alone made your heart sink to the floor. You leaned forward to drop your head into your hands and let out another sigh; this one being much louder. 

“Hey, keep making noises like that and I’m gonna get turned on, babes.” You heard a familiar voice coming from the side of you. 

You didn’t even need to move your head to know it was Beetlejuice. You loved the demon to death but right now, you were in no mood to joke around. You could tell he sensed that when you didn’t respond. You didn’t see, but he awkwardly scratched the back of his head before sitting next to you. He placed an equally awkward hand on your back and started rubbing circles on it. 

“Uh, you’re not gonna start crying are you? I’ve always been bad with that sort of thing. I mean, I had to watch The Notebook with Adam and Barbara one time and I had no idea what to do. They just started sobbing and saying “If you’re a bird, I’m a bird” to each other and it was the stupidest thing I’d seen-” And you stopped him before he could finish. 

“No, Beej, I’m not gonna start crying. But, God, do I want to.” You said while sitting up, his hand still rubbing circles on your back. “It’s like I had one job and it went straight to shit in one day. I’ve looked everywhere for someone to play Santa last minute but they’re all booked! And I don’t have any family members or friends that are free either. Ugh, as if they’d actually do it.” 

The room fell silent for a moment. There was no point in even opening up your laptop again. Not to say you gave up...but you basically gave up. 

“What about the kid’s sperm donor? Maybe the Christmas spirit has him feeling less like a piece of shit.” Beetlejuice spoke; half joking, half serious. You scoffed but then let out an actual laugh. He moved his hand to around your shoulder before and you laid his chest. Your fingers started absentmindedly playing with his tie.  

“If you’re referring to her father, he hasn’t been around since she was one. I doubt anything would make him less of a piece of shit.” You responded. You hated the guy for running out on you and your daughter but you’d never have him around Beetlejuice. You already knew Beej would have murder in his eyes as soon as he’d walk through the door. You moved your neck upward to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, showing that you appreciated his attempt to make you feel better.

“Well, at least this'll be an excuse to ruin Santa for her. Just walk in and say “SANTA ISN’T COMING BECAUSE SANTA ISN’T REAL!”. Rip the band aid off. It’ll be great.” He joked, looking down at you with a sinister grin on his face. There was no doubt in your mind that he wasn’t joking. 

You let out a defeated giggle before flipping his tie up to hit him in the face. You were about to give him another kiss before you heard your daughter’s voice again. 

“Beetlejuice!” She screamed before running around the couch to jump between you two. You both laughed at her sudden presence before Beetlejuice placed a hand on her head. 

“What’s up, anklebiter? Have too many sugar packets before bed?” He joked and her own laughter wasn’t far behind. She quickly climbed on top of his lap and pulled out two of her favorite scrunchies from her pocket. 

“No, silly! I need your opinion. Which scrunchie would look better for my hair tomorrow?” She asked, much like asked you about the shoes before. 

Beetlejuice was always so good around your daughter. Most guys you knew ran for the hills when they found out you had a kid, but somehow, this rude and crude demon didn’t. Maybe it was all the time he’d spent with Lydia but he fell into the ‘cool dad/uncle’ role very quickly. Not that you were begging to have that figure in her life, it was still nice to watch them interact so naturally. You laughed as Beetlejuice plucked the different color scrunchies out of her hand and examined them closely. 

“Nope, neither one will do.” He twisted his face at them before tossing them both to the side. Your daughter only blinked in confusion as she watched Beetlejuice reach into one of his jacket pockets. 

“This one is way more suitable!” Suddenly he pulled out a black and white striped scrunchie with a glitter covered green and black tulle bow at the center. You’d been with Beetlejuice for a while so thankfully the both of you were used to his magic. Your daughter squealed in excitement and grabbed the scrunchie out of his hand.  

“Beej, you can’t keep giving her presents before Christmas.” You laughed, still watching her as she gawked at her new accessory. The demon man ignored you, knowing he was only winning her heart more and more each day. “Alright, now what do we say?” You asked, giving her a knowing look.

“Thank you, so much BJ! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” The child didn’t hold back her enthusiasm as she jumped to give him a tight hug. Beetlejuice let out his usual scratchy laugh while giving her a few pats on the back. 

You watched their interaction before squinting, an idea popping into your head. 

“There’s no way...” You thought to yourself, but the image stuck in your head. Once you saw it, you couldn’t unsee it. From his perfect chubby body to his earthy laugh, you could tell he was the perfect fit for your idea.

“Alright, mini me, time for bed.” You shook yourself away from your thoughts and placed a hand on her head. She turned to face you with a large pout on her face. You stopped her before she could even protest. “Teeth and pajamas, now. I’ll be in to help with your hair in a minute.” You said softly but sternly. 

The girl turned to Beej for help but he only shrugged, already knowing not to protest against you. She dropped her shoulders in defeat before saying thank you one last time and giving him her own cheek kiss. She soon shuffled away to get ready for bed, still giggling about the scrunchie.

“Ya’know, doll. I like it when you get tough. It really does something to me.” The demon man wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. You rolled your eyes before making your way over to him. You swung one leg over his lap and straddled him, using your hands to hold and squish his cheeks together. Beetlejuice didn’t waste time using one hand to hold your thigh and the other to grab your ass. 

“Beej....” You started, staring into his golden eyes with a look that was nothing less than seductive. It didn’t take long for Beetlejuice to be wrapped around your finger. His hands started rubbing slowly in their respective spots as you moved down to pace soft kisses on his neck. “....how would you like to do me a BIG favor?” You asked.

****

Being the amazing boyfriend that he was, Beetlejuice said yes to your favor of him being the replacement Santa, at the cost of you being a wreck the entire event. Did you ever stop sweating? No. You were so used to Beej’s crass behavior at home that you didn’t think about how bad it would be to have him around other people. He started telling you all the ‘fun’ party tricks he had planned for the night. As soon as he mentioned giving the girls candy bags full of dead bugs, you realized the mistake you might’ve made. 

There were more lows than highs throughout the night. Beetlejuice would make crude jokes every chance he got. Most of these jokes went over the girls heads, but their parents didn't find them very amusing. Even in your panicked state, you would have to divert Beetlejuice back to his original task. God, don’t even mention when you got close to him. It’s like he’d lose track of what was even happening to openly flirt and make lewd comments about you, in front of everyone. You lost count of how many times you had to say “haha Santa I don’t think Mrs. Claus would like that” before pinching him and making him get back on track. When it was time for food, he ate the scouts’ precious trope hamster. He played it up as a gimmick but you knew the gruesome reality of it all. The glares and stares from the adults in the room burned deep holes into your back. If you had the option to let the ground swallow you whole, you would’ve taken it.

When it finally came time to pass out the Scouts’ merit badges, that surprisingly went with minimal ease. Again, he was making odd jokes but it wasn’t the worst thing to happen all night. When he got down to your daughter, he was a lot more kind with his words than he was with the other girls. You thought he would’ve blown his cover to her as he went on a 10 minute long speech about how great and deserving she was. He was eventually stopped by the scout leader who cleared her throat to get her attention. You weren’t sure if it was the anxiety you’d been feeling all night, the sweet gesture from Beej, or the look of joy on your daughter’s face, but you were just about on the verge of tears. Despite the craziness of the night and the emotions that were flooding your brain, seeing the two of them laugh together made it all worth it.

****

After a long night out, you were finally back to your apartment. You shuffled through the door with her fast asleep on your shoulder. As soon as you got her in the car, she was out like a light. Now all you had to do was get her into pajamas and put her to bed. As you tucked her in, you could already hear Beej calling in his invisible state. 

“Babydoll~ Told ya’ I was gonna be the best Santa ever. Come on, say my name. Say it so you can sit on Santa’s lap and tell him what you want for Christmas~” His scratchy voice echoed from behind you. 

It took everything in you not to roll your eyes. Thankfully your daughter was fast asleep so she wouldn’t hear anymore of Beej’s lewd humor for the night. You stroked her hair for a second before getting up to walk out of her room, making sure to leave a slight crack in the door. You weren’t free from Beej’s voice as you put some things away and tidied up your living room. He was practically begging for you to say his name. Sure, you were being petty but he put you through hell tonight. A little payback never hurt anyone. Especially when you knew it helped fuel a little feral anger him. Angry Beej was your favorite Beej. 

After about 30 minutes, you could feel the air in the room growing a little warm. You smiled to yourself, finally feeling as though you’d tortured him enough. You whispered his name slowly and sensual as you possibly could. As soon as you finished with the last syllable, you didn’t have time to swat away the thick green smoke surrounding your face before you felt his arms wrap around your waist. His nose was practically touching yours and you noticed the mischievous grin on his face.  It didn’t surprise you that he still had on the Santa costume and soon you felt him pepper quick kisses on your neck. 

“So tell me little girl, have you been naughty or nice this year?” He asked in between kisses. You let out a light giggle as the hairs on his beard tickles your neck. 

“Aren’t you supposed to know that already, Santa?” You asked with added sarcasm on the name. He ignored you as he started nipping at your neck. “Anyway,” You stopped him by grabbing his cheeks with your hands. The way his face looked squished between your hands was too adorable for you to handle. 

“Even though you were giving me anxiety all night, I still wanna say thank you for doing me this favor. It really means a lot.” With your words, you used one thumb to gently rub against his cheek. He didn’t even try to hide the goofy smile that filled his face. The only thing missing from his costume was the Santa hat so you could see the baby pink color that started to creep up strands of his hair.  

“Aw, don’t sweat it, doll. You know I’d do anything for you and the kid.” He said so nonchalantly. It wasn’t until you gave him a fond smile that he realized what he said. It was rare for Beetlejuice to be anything less than crass. Whenever he showed moments of sincerity, it made your heart feel warm. His hair only got pinker as you looked at him with hearts in your eyes. 

“I still want to show my appreciation. Seriously, what can I do to say thanks?” You asked, already knowing the type of answer he’d give. You watched as he acted like he was thinking for a moment. Just as his lip twisted back until an evil smirk, you felt one of his cold hands make his way down to your ass and give a gentle squeeze. 

“Wellllll, how about a kiss under the mistletoe, babes?” He leaned in closer to your face. 

You assumed he would’ve made one appear over you because you didn’t have one hanging anywhere in your apartment. A small puff of green smoke appeared in front of you but when you looked above, there wasn’t mistletoe to be found. Beej still had the arrogant smirk on his face as he watched you look around in confusion. After a second, it finally hit you. You made the mistake of looking down to see said mistletoe resting on the belt above his crotch. When you looked back at him, he wiggled his eyebrows. The annoyed sigh you let out could’ve been heard throughout the whole building. God, this guy was such a dumbass. 

“Well? You gonna thank me or what?” The demon man asked, giving your ass a harder squeeze. You ignored his question and reached down. He seemed to get excited, but you disregarded his expectations that when you plucked the mistletoe off of his belt and held it above your heads. 

“Don’t get too cocky, dweeb.” You saw that he was about to protest but you pushed your lips against his before he could. 

Kissing Beetlejuice was nothing new but somehow this was a little different. You just remembered how sweet he was to your daughter and the interactions they’ve had. You thought about how you loved seeing them together. You thought about how much you loved the three of you being together like a family, like the family you’ve secretly wanted for so long. You put all of those thoughts into the kiss. All the love you had for Beetlejuice, you put into your kiss. 

He was a little flustered at first, but eventually got in sync with you. He could tell you were putting your all into the kiss and was determined to do the same. You dropped the mistletoe to the floor and wrapped your arms around the man’s neck, pulling your bodies closer together. Beej let out a small grunt as you let your tongue slip it’s way into his mouth. You knew exactly what you were getting yourself into with that. Not long after did Beetlejuice shove his own freakishly large tongue until your mouth, and later down your throat. You tried your hardest not to let out a loud moan once you felt the wetness fill up your mouth, but you knew that’s exactly what Beej wanted to hear. 

Even though you wanted to go longer, it would’ve been easier to finish what you started in the bedroom. Your daughter never caught you and Beej in the act, thank God, but there have been times where it was a close call. You hesitantly pulled away from the demon man, and it took a second for his tongue to leave from your throat. You gasped for air as your hands rested on his chest. You could see the ready-to-go feral look on his face as he rested his forehead on yours. 

“Was that a good enough thank you?” You asked, letting out a slight laugh. Beetlejuice let out a heartier laugh as his golden eyes glowed bright like stars. 

“I think I could use a little more convincing.” His scratchy voice echoed through your ears as he leaned down to wrap his arms around your thighs. You didn’t have a second to think as he lifted your body off of the ground and threw you over his shoulder with ease; one hand rested on your thigh and the other held a tight grip on your ass. You tried not to laugh too loudly as he carried your to your bedroom, ending the night in hours and hours of lovemaking. 

With being so wrapped up in each other, you didn’t see your daughter peeking from around the hallway corner. Even though you thought she was fast asleep, Beetlejuice’s presence had woken her up while she tucked you in. She snuck out to watch in both joy and disgust as you two basically made out in the living room. She was glad to see you happy but it was still gross to see her parental figures kissing at all. With Beetlejuice still being in his Santa costume, she was able to put two and two together. She didn’t necessarily stop believing in Santa but she was glad Beetlejuice played the part for her. 

The young girl scurried her way back into her room and gently closed the door so you two wouldn’t hear. Boy, was she gonna have a story to tell her fellow Girl Scouts.

Thank you guys so much for reading! See you guys in the New Year!💚💜🖤 🎉

[imma-potatoo]

Quest For A Smile

A Christmas Oneshot for my Blond Janus AU!

Summery: Janus has never gotton a chance to celebrate Christmas before. The others fully intend to change this fact as well as making the side smile.

Huge special thanks to @superwholockandpfl and @mother-snake for making my year amazing and pushing me to improve my writing! You two are absolutely amazing and I can't express enough gratitude 💛💙💚

Words: 5,196

Janus sighed heavily as he walked in the front door. Blond curls a complete and total mess, coated with sweat and a slight tinge of blood. As the door shut behind him he leaned against it with a groan and an unpleasant look on his face. Wrath was angry again, he managed to escape before any real harm could be inflicted but Janus still breathed in deep and held it for multiple seconds to calm his nerves. Soon his lungs cleared and he could breathe easy once more. Something smelled off this time though, the lightsides home typically smelled of fresh chocolate and golden brown cookies, of the forest and the thick mist of lakes, of crofters and handbound books. But this time it was different…

 The air was filled with the smell of gingerbread, a hint of fresh pine and peppermint. Glitter seemed to be permanently soaked into the carpet. The air was warm and filled with the scent of sugar with sweetened honey and nutmeg. Soft sounds of cheerful music filled the house as laughs filed in from the living room.

Janus pushed himself away from the door, locking it securely, before walking into the living room. He was swaying back and forth a bit, but that was nothing compared to the pure dose of pure confusion when he saw the other sides. 

Absolutely hideous sweaters, fur-trimmed red hats with a cotton ball on the end, an ear-to-ear smile, and slightly thicker pants, it was on every side. Janus wasn’t used to this. He was used to the normal wear of the others, even the twins dressed down. But Janus had definitely seen weirder things that day and just collapsed onto the couch with a heavy sigh. Attempting to avoid staining the couch with blood, but it was a fruitless effort as the wound hit the cushion directly.

The others stopped their laughter and exchanged a look of confusion with one another. Janus was very rarely happy when he came in the door, often sporting multitudes of injuries and grumbling swears under his breath as he raided the medical cabinet for the fifth time that week. The sides felt horrible after seeing every bandage and cut. Virgil walked up to the smaller side.

“Jannie?” muffled grumbles and obscurities came from the side on the couch, “come on baby snake. I gotta see your injuries” more mild swears escaped the younger's lips as he sat up with a scowl.

His scales were patchy, a few torn-out leaving empty, gaping, bloody holes in their stead. The blood was dried on his cheek; smelling so much like iron the others had to hold in their retching. A huge black eye was already forming on his right and his cheeks were soaked in painful tears. His outfit was a mess, his black dress shirt was torn in multiple places, revealing more oozing blood from underneath. Yellow suspenders hanging limply from his shoulders. On his left temple was a large gash, heavily and steadily leaking more of the bright crimson liquid. Janus looked sad and broken, his eyes were dull as he stared into Virgil's warm gray ones.

Virgil stared at his child in horror, every time that Janus had returned to the light side, he had this spark. This look in his eyes that compelled him to fight. That forced him to stand back up after every hit and strike. It was almost like a pull that required him to keep fighting. But even the strongest fighters can’t get back up occasionally. And Virgil could tell that Janus was falling, because of that spark that powered Janus’ every move.

It was gone.

The one thing that Virgil refused to do was let his baby fall. He had broken too many promises to break his entire purpose of being a father.

Virgil smiled, it was fake and too hard to pull off, but he gazed into Janus’ blue and yellow eyes anyway. “Come on, let's get you cleaned up,” Virgil held out his hand for Janus to take, watching as the smaller side extended his hand slowly and rested it in his palm. Virgil helped the yellow side stand shakily as he led him to the kitchen, extending the sides a look as he walked away.

When the duo got to the kitchen, Virgil picked up Janus like he weighed nothing -it wasn’t far off- and plopped him on the counter. “Stay right here, I’m going to go grab the medkit from the bathroom. Ok?” Virgil watched as Janus held himself tightly; watching as the side nodded slightly as his eyes were trained to the floor. Virgil felt his stomach churn as he walked away from the side and back to the group, the plastic smile melting away faster with every step only to be replaced with a heart of lead and eyes doused in concern.

Logan stopped Virgil on his mission for the medkit, “Is Janus adequate?” his lips twisting into a frown while Virgil shook his head as Patton interrupted, “what's wrong with our kiddo?” you could hear the heaviness in his voice. It was shaking as if it was afraid to know the answer. 

Virgil drew a deep breath as he looked at the sides, their eyes crawling with concern and nervousness. “The last time that he acted like this… it- it wasn’t good.” Virgil looked down at the ground, “When he was fifteen, Wrath and Depression did a number on him. And…. and he was bleeding out. Completely collapsed in the main hallway, and when-” Virgil’s voice had gone rough, closing up to prevent any noise from escaping. But he pushed through and continued speaking anyway, “When I found him I took him back to my room and started to patch him up. But- but he just stopped me and told me to let him go.” Virgil could feel the tears leaking down his cheeks as he continued the story, “I patched him up regardless but the week after-” he drew another breath slow and steady, calming down his nerves. “The week after, I found him lying in a pool of his own blood next to a note.” his own voice sounded choked, “I don’t know what's happening with Jan… but I’m not going to lose him because of a mistake I made years ago.” Virgil wiped away his tears as he started to walk away to get the medical kit.

“Virgil?”

Virgil turned to face Logan, “Do the darks celebrate Christmas?”

 Virgil shook his head, “no, holidays were seen as weakness. Especially Christmas…. I always tried to get him a gift though”

Logan nodded with a sour look on his face, expression bitter as he played with the trim of his Christmas sweater. Brows furrowed in thought as Virgil walked away. Logan's mind was whirring. Twisting and turning like the gears on a machine. Granted, Logan was always thinking. That was his sole function. To think and to problem solve. Logan has never been one to admit that he had emotions, he actively denied having any such thing, but he wouldn’t lie and say that he was unhappy. He had a loving family, a table with food that wasn’t green with mold, a safe warm bed where he could fall asleep without having to risk making it to morning. His life was far from perfect, but it was nowhere near Janus’. And ever since Virgil had told them where Janus was meant to be, a huge pit of guilt was starting to gnaw at his stomach. And that wouldn’t stand, it didn’t matter if Logan had to personally dispose of the dark sides himself. He was going to make Janus smile.

By the time that Virgil returned with the medkit and started to patch up Janus, Logan had discussed his plan with the rest of the family. The twins got to work crafting an early gift for the yellow side. Janus was way smaller than the rest of them, maybe 5’3” while Patton -who was the second shortest of the bunch- was 5’8”. The sides tried to make it fit the best as possible; without showing Janus of course. And eventually, the gift was all wrapped up in a neat bow and ribbon, waiting for the recipient.

When Virgil finished fixing up the smaller side, he took Janus’ hand and led him back to the living room where all the sides were waiting, all excitedly bouncing up and down. Virgil could feel Janus tense up as they sat on the couch, the younger side attempting to keep his thoughts in line and his breathing calm, repeating over and over that he was safe and that they wouldn’t hurt him.

 They would never hurt him, this is the light sides, they’re good people, hitting someone makes you a bad person; right? But, there are always exceptions to the rules, if someone is hurting a bad person to protect a good person does that mean that the abuser is good? Janus’ leg was bouncing repeatedly, his eyes growing hazy. Breathing grew faster and faster as the thoughts turned even more toxic, repeating a horrible mantra of hate and disgust for the side’s own skin. After all, if everything’s supposed to happen for a reason, why did he hurt every day? Good people get rewarded, bad people are punished. So if he’s getting punished every day, wouldn’t that make him bad? What did he ever, ever do to get this kind of treatment? This isn’t fair, why couldn’t it be fair? What did he do? How many bruises could make up for whatever heinous crime he’d committed? He’s tired, he’s just so tired, is it so much for him to ask for him to just sleep fore-

“-Seven, eight. Come on buddy! You here?” Janus was broken from the toxic mantra with the lights grabbing his hand. Bringing him back to reality. He nodded, sucking in a large breath. He didn’t even notice that he was spacing out, blocking out all of his surroundings. Drawing one more breath he looked back up at the light sides. Finding faces full of concern and worry. Doubtful glances at one another when Janus said that he was fine.

Janus looked up at the others, “what did you guys need?” his voice was slightly shaky as he touched his bandaged temple, flinching back his hand after it stung horribly.

“Um, hi kiddo!” Patton could barely meet his eyes, “how ya feeling?” Janus shrugged, his eyes training back to the ground, “We um, got you a present!”

Janus’ eyes snapped back up, “What?”

The others exchanged a look, “Yeah, Jannie, it's a Christmas Gift.” Janus looked confused as he blinked repeatedly in complete wonderment “you….. have gotten a gift before right?”

Janus nodded, “well, I have. But the others always got rid of them.” and that was the exact second that the mood died.

Roman  was confused, “What do you mean they ‘got rid of them’ snakes n ladders?”

Janus looked a little puzzled, “Well, Vee would get me a gift, I would get to play with it for a while and then they would find out and burn it.” Janus hesitantly turned his gaze to the others, finding looks of horror, anger, and tears leaking down their faces, “I take it that it's not supposed to be like that?”

Patton has his hand clasped over his mouth as thick globs of tears leaked down his cheeks. Shaking his head repeatedly, “No- no, kiddo! The presents you get are supposed to stay with you! And you’re supposed to keep them! And love them! And they’re supposed to be precious memories, not ashes in the fireplace!”

Janus looked back to the floor, his eyebrows furrowed in thought and confusion, “oh”  

Roman patted the father figment on the back as he wiped his tears. He grabbed a large yellow package from the coffee table and placed it lightly in the younger sides lap.

Janus reached out his hand tentatively, lightly stroking the black glittery ribbon that wrapped the yellow paper. The paper was covered in small snakes winding up various Christmassy items like trees and ornaments. Janus felt a stinging sensation come to his eyes as his voice felt stuck in his throat. “F-for me?” questioning eyes met the others. He looked back down to the gift once he got confirmation through various modes of agreement.

With the security of the smiles and encouragement of the lightsides, Janus grabbed the ribbon and pulled. It fell away as Janus ripped the yellow paper carefully. His fingers shook slightly as he opened the box, his eyes widened as he completely lost his ability to speak.

Inside of the box was a sweater. It was plush and a vibrant yellow. The wool was as soft as a cloud with ornaments, candy canes, and swirls and dots filled in the gaps as the pattern. It was a standard Christmas sweater,  but it was clear by the hiccuping tears streaming down the side’s face, that it meant a lot to him.

Bringing his hand to his mouth to muffle the sobs, he pulled the sweater out of the box and pulled it close to his chest. A small note falling to his lap.

The others watched as Janus shakily picked up the note and as the tears leaked down faster as he read on.

‘Janus, we know that this gift cannot make up for all the missed Christmases. But, you deserve to have a happy day. Will you spend the day with us? ~Logan, Roman, Patton, Virgil, and Remus’

Janus looked up at the others with a shocked face, his mouth gaped open in shock, eyes wide as hope filled his irises once more. The sweater was pulled close to his chest, doubtful -but hopeful- eyes flicked back and forth between the five of them, “y-you mean it?”

Virgil rushed to his child, sitting quickly but not too roughly as to startle him. “Janus, look at me.” The yellow side raised his eyes to meet his, the grip tightening on the sweater, “I’m not going to take your gift, my hatchling.” Virgil breathed deep as the side lightened his grip ever so slightly, “you shouldn’t have to worry about anything that you currently do. And, my adorable hatchling, we would never do anything that could make your life even harder.” Virgil slowly reached for Janus’ hands, “now, do you want to have a real Christmas?”

The others held their breath as seemingly millions of different emotions flashed on the smaller side’s face, their eyes flickering nervously before Janus pulled his hands away from Virgil and they felt their hearts sink like a ball of lead.

The others watched with tear-filled eyes while Janus pulled the sweater over his head. The side looked up at them with wide hopeful eyes, “please?”

--------

Sooner than Janus could blink, he was bundled like he was going to Antarctica, and they were trudging outside towards an evergreen forest.

Janus walked beside Virgil, a beanie covering his blond locks while Virgil let his jet black hair blow freely in the crisp winter wind. The snow crunched beneath their feet as they followed the twins. Virgil humming a small tune that Janus thought was a Christmas carol. Oversized mittens covered the half-snakes hands, keeping them very warm and content; as well as a matching yellow scarf. but truth be told, Janus had absolutely no clue about Christmas.

The sides stopped at the forest; Janus, Logan, and Virgil watched the other three run wild in the evergreens. Janus stood there puzzled as Remus climbed one of the trees to get a better view of the land, Janus turned to Virgil, “Hey dad?” Virgil looked down at the side, Janus’ eyes were wide like a doe’s, his face was questioning.

“Yeah, Jan?”

Janus played with the ends of his mittens, “Why are we here?” his eyes stayed calm for a second before dissolving into pure panic, “not that I’m not happy to be here! I just don’t get why we went to an evergreen forest to celebrate Christmas……”

Virgil blanked out for a second, then it clicked. Janus didn’t understand Christmas… and Virgil was determined to change that fact.

Virgil let out a small smile, “Come sit down, I’ll tell you,” Virgil led the smaller side to a fallen log, sitting down and waiting for Janus to do the same. Virgil went to open his mouth when Janus sat next to him with curious eyes, only to pause and take a deep breath, “LOGAN!!!”

Logan raised an eyebrow at Virgil, before sighing and walking to the pair -shoving a bookmark in his book while he was at it. He stopped before the purple side, “Yes Virgil?”

Virgil rubbed his eyes with his hand, “L, can you tell Jan why we put a pine tree inside for Christmas? I don’t know how to explain this…”

Logan perked up slightly, “Of course! I’ll be happy to explain!” he sat down on the other side of Janus. “Christmas trees were originally from Germany. Specifically, it was developed in medieval Livonia -present-day Estonia and Latvia- and early modern Germany where German protestant christens brought decorated evergreens into their homes. However, in ancient Egypt, during the winter solace, the Egyptians would fill their homes with palm leaves. And, the early Romans celebrated Saturnalia, in honor of Saturn; god of agriculture and they decorated their homes and temples with evergreen boughs. But that's not even mentioning the celts!” Logan beamed as Janus listening intently, the yellow side seemed to be absorbing every once of information that Logan provided. Logan relaxed comfortably on the fallen tree, telling Janus the reason they put ornaments on the tree as the side stared at him with sparkling eyes.

The two left-brain sides talked all the way back to the house, the tree in hand, Janus occasionally prompting more questions from the blue side and the said side happily answering them. Virgil let loose a small grin as he saw Janus happily talking and asking questions about evergreens

The sides got back to the house and the twins started to trim and set up the tree.

Janus and Logan sat on the couch to continue their discussion on why all of Santa’s Reindeer were actually female when Patton called for Janus from the kitchen. Janus looked at Logan with a fond expression, but no smile…

Janus stood up and walked past Virgil and Remus arguing over a gingerbread cookie, apparently, it was different from the other cookies…. Janus didn’t get it, he walked carefully into the kitchen where Patton was leaning over the counter with a small hum under his breath.

“You called Patton?” Janus played with the end of his Christmas sweater, he kept the black beanie too. Patton turned around with a bright grin

“Hiya kiddo!” Patton was wearing a blue apron reading ‘give the cook a puppy!’ with a spatula and a smear of frosting on his cheek. “Wanna help me decorate a gingerbread house?!” Patton watched as different emotions flickered over the younger's face, he looked at the father figment with a look of pure confusion.

“But, can’t you just eat the candies how they are? I thought that no one ate the gingerbread anyway, so isn’t that kinda a waste?” Janus’ looked at the candy by the undecorated house, the house was already assembled to prevent any anger and frustration, Janus turned back to Patton when he heard the side giggle.

Patton rocked back and forth on his heels, hands covered in flour and sugar which were tied up in the strings of his apron, a small grin on his lips as he made eye contact with Janus. “I mean… I guess you could just eat the candy…. But decorating it is half the fun! Besides! Remus and Logan love gingerbread! Plus I made it from scratch, so it’ll taste good!” Patton turned back to the counter and started rustling in the baking ingredients before grabbing something with a squeal and turning back to Janus. He held out his hand to the smaller side, offering the cookie.

Janus looked at the cyan side and hesitantly raised his own hand shakily to take the sweet. Patton was patient as his brain screamed danger and he has to fight to keep himself calm, keeping the cookie exactly where it was with a calm smile and relaxed eyes. Though Janus could tell that there was some underlying nervousness, maybe it was because his grip on the cookie was a little too tight, or because he could sense how afraid the others were of upsetting him, or maybe it was because the tension in the air was never gone when he was around. They didn’t want to make him upset. Janus didn’t know how to feel about that information.

Janus grabbed the cookie and brought it to his lips, trying to ignore the urge to not eat anything that another person gave him, and he took a bite. Nutmeg and ginger filled his senses, the cookie was sweet but slightly dry as it crumbled in his mouth as he continued to chew. The next bite, he bit into some chocolate which brought his senses over the moon. It was soft as his teeth repeatedly sank into the brown shape. He looked up at the father figment with wide sparkling eyes, “what kind of cookie was that?!”

Patton chuckled as Janus continuously went back for more bites of the cookie, “That was a gingerbread man kiddio! Homemade too!” Janus seemed to be zoned out as Patton laughed slightly under his breath. “I’ll take it that you’re helping me decorate?” the same happy grin only grew as Janus nodded his head vigorously.

Janus and Patton decorated the gingerbread house with every single candy they could fit on to the tiny baked good. Frosting smothered every inch and candy was thrown around like snow in a storm. Patton giggled as he saw Janus occasionally sneak  a few candies, “come on kiddo! Don’t eat all the candy! We gotta use some on the house!” Patton could pinpoint the exact second that Janus’ expression fell, he was so close to getting him to smile only for him to ruin it with a silly comment. “Oh! No! No no no no! Kiddo, it's ok! Here, I can get you your own bowl of candy!” Patton walked away from the counter with a heavy heart.

He had been so close to getting Janus to smile! It was right there! He could see Janus’ lips start to turn into a weavering smile and he just had to make that comment, Patton walked over to Virgil under the guise of grabbing some candy from the bowl in the living room.

He started filling the small bowl with candy, “hey, Kiddo?” Virgil hummed in response, scrolling through his phone, “has Janus ever had any sweets before?” that stopped Virgil in his tracks, he turned off his phone and looked Patton directly in the eyes.

“Patton, you do know what you’re asking me right?” Virgil kept his eyes trained on the cyan side as he nodded. Virgil rubbed his temple and sighed, “the others… are big on control. Wrath will force you to do something you regret and hold it over your head for years…. Anyway, one of the ways that Wrath,” Virgil felt an involuntary shiver run down his spine, “controls you, is by having complete power over the food supply. And sweets were not something that was handed out. Oftentimes we got stuck with some rotten excuse for food while the other three ate like kings” Virgil leaned to the back of the couch, his phone by his side, “Janus only got sweets when I managed to sneak them in.” Patton saw Virgil take large slow calming breaths, even and slow. “Now, popstar, what did you say to my kid?”

Patton took a deep breath, his chest was shaking, Virgil was known to be quite protective of the smaller side, “I didn’t mean to kiddo! He kept sneaking little pieces of candy and I told him to save some for the gingerbread house. I didn’t mean to make him upset!” Virgil sighed audibly, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“Take some of the charamals, I think he’ll like them.” Virgil’s voice was low, clearly quite tired. He analyzed the light blue side carefully. “Patton, I’m not angry. Just try to be a little more careful with how you phrase things.” Patton nodded, pulling the candy bowl close to his chest. His glum expression disappears in the matter of seconds. The brilliant grin back on his lips with full force.

“Thanks kiddo! Your dear old dad-” “Patton, I’m older than you.” “your dear old dad needed some pointers!” Patton walked away with a pit of lead in his stomach, his dark kiddos had suffered for so long and they could barely do anything for Janus due to the rules of the mind.

In order for a side to switch their part of the mind, they need “permission” from a side from their current place of residence and everyone in their future residence. Janus had everyone’s acceptance from the lightside, but the darks refusing to let him go. Janus was the side to give Remus and Virgil permission and now the poor side is stuck because there is no way the darks are going to give up their leverage. Everyone on the lightside feels absolutely horrible.

It feels like a vicious cycle. Janus goes to the darkside, he gets hurt, he goes to the lightside to heal up and get some food, he stays for maybe a day (if he’s luckily) before he has to return to his room in the dark, only for the cycle to repeat over and over and over. Everyone knew Janus was falling, they just didn’t have the guts to say it.

Patton walked back into the kitchen with the bowl of candy. He hid the bowl behind his back, walking slowly to not startle the smaller side. Janus was barely up to his ear, wild blond curls stuck out every way they could manage, Janus turned and Patton got a better look at the shiny eyes that belonged to the younger side. His right eye was a light baby blue with speckles of green and gold. It reminded Patton of the glimmering galaxies that Logan often showed him, or of the rising and falling tides that were deadly but so serene. The other eye was a bright contrasting gold, it was rich in colour and metallic like a coin in a sunken chest. The pupil of the golden eye was slim like a snake, it was constantly flickering around the room -although Patton didn’t know if that was his snake instincts or a habit formed from years of planning desperate escapes.

“Hey kiddo! I got you something!” Janus looked a little confused, he normally didn’t get a single gift, more than one was almost unheard of, but he raised an eyebrow in a questioning manner nonetheless. “Hold your hands!” Janus followed his instructions slowly. Validity Deceit isn’t one to trust people blindly. Janus watched Patton closely as he pulled something from behind his back and set it in his hands. Janus felt his eyes widen

In his hands sat a bowl overflowing with sweets. Janus couldn’t form words as he kept staring at the bowl, chocolates to charamals to hard candy. Janus couldn’t get any words to form as he just kept staring at the bowl. He felt small pinpricks of tears spring to his eyes but managed to hold them in. Janus looked back up at Patton with joyful eyes.

“Thank you” his voice breathless

----

The freshly decorated gingerbread house sat on the coffee table, hot chocolate was pressed into the hands of the sides as they prepared to watch a christmas movie. The air was warm with the fireplace glowing burning flames. Janus stared into the dancing embers, entranced by the red blaze. It was so warm and comforting, it felt almost like a warm hug. But the flames also reminded him of Apathy and his lighter. That thought alone sent a shiver down his spine as the others argued over the movie

“The Muppets Christmas Carol!”

“The Grinch!”

“Noelle is an empowering movie for women.”

“Home Alone!”

“The Nightmare before Christmas!”

Janus hummed along to the radio that was playing in the meantime, the warm chocolatey drink was sweet. He didn’t know the words for the songs but he still enjoyed the songs regardless.

“Remus, we are not making Janus’ first christmas movie a horror film!” Roman was starting to get a little irritated with his twin. His quips were starting to get a little more bite than bark, the tension was starting to raise like it always did on their movie nights

“Well why not?! Come on Abel! Tell dear old Cain why we can’t watch a perfectly fine movie! Or is that stick up your butt shoved too far!?” Remus was just as mocking as the others stood on the sidelines. This was typical of the twins, they would settle down eventually and they could pick a movie.

Janus sitting in between Virgil and Logan, his head lolled to the side; resting on Virgil’s shoulder. Virgil in turn, had his arm resting over his shoulder in a comforting manner.

Logan leaned against the back cushions, coffee in one hand, “actually, Cain was the older sibling so Remus comparing himself to Cain would be incorrect because he’s youn-”

“SHUT UP NERD!!!!” the twins both screamed at the same time, the house shaking at the pure volume for the yell. The very second the yell sounded, Janus flinched and Virgil pulled the yellow side onto his lap, wrapping both arms around him in a protective grip. 

The purple side growled lowly, “you two are going to calm down NOW. I’m not going to tolerate this today.” The red and green sides squeaked slightly at Virgil’s tempest tone, it wasn’t brought out often but when it was, it definitely got the others to listen. Virgil took a breath, calming his voice. “We’re watching Logan’s pick.” Janus had accepted his fate as a snuggle buddy, besides, he felt safe anyway.

The group was quiet, each side having their own questions in their mind. “Why Logans? Noelle isn’t normally on the watch list?” Roman huffed as he threw himself on the newly constructed pillow throne, he was just as dramatic as Juliet when she stabbed her own heart.

Virgil shrugged as he slightly loosened his grip on Janus, “Happy ending, good message, it's funny, and it has a great message of female empowerment.” The sides all snuggled into their chairs as Remus brought up the movie.

The fire was warm. Snow was falling gracefully out the window. The hot chocolate was steaming as marshmallows floated like little islands. The sides were calm, no injuries to tend or having to hide, only the calm steady breathing of the six as Santa walked on screen.

And Janus let out a small smile.

-------

Taglist:

@writerstrashbin , @psychedelicships , @cryptidwriterdotcom (ask to be removed or added)

@girl-with-many-fandoms @fortunatelyimperfect @idkanameatall

Merry Christmas my friends. I hope you enjoy this late Christmas present. ❤️💛💚💙💜💖

Blond Janus AU masterpost

[tryingmybestpls]

Like Real People Do (Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Reader)

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Reader

Summary: When Frankie comes home with his friend Santiago in tow, Reader is rightfully suspicious of why Santiago is here.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings:Mentions of drinking, mentions of substance (cocaine) abuse, cursing

A/N: I made fun of Tom maybe a little too much in this, but also? He deserves it :)

"Baby! I'm home!" Frankie calls out as you finish changing your little girl's diaper. You smile down at your daughter, lifting her up into your arms. She pulls at her lilac colored onesie, making a soft little noise. You carefully fix the gold studs in her ears, humming softly. She babbles on as you try to fixed her messy hair., giving up when she starts to squirm.

"Daddy's home, baby girl." You say in a singsong voice as the two of you walk out of a her room and down the hall into the living room. You're more than a little shocked to see Frankie's friend Santiago standing beside your boyfriend. They're both grinning ear to ear (both of them wearing their own respective hats), especially as Frankie walks over to you, kissing you and then your little girl's forehead. He's so happy that you can't be mad at him about bringing Santiago around unannounced. They're also both definitely drunk. Benny's fight.

You've only met Santiago on a handful occasions, mainly at bars. You knew through Frankie, Benny, and Will that he had been down in South America for a year or two hunting down a big drug lord. You knew that he, Frankie, Tom, Benny, and Will were all best buddies and teammates. While your information on Santiago was limited to what Frankie and his buddies told you, you knew that it was a little weird that he was currently standing in your living room.

"Y/N, you remember Santiago, right?" Frankie asks and you nod. Frankie's smile is contagious because soon one is appearing on your face.

Santiago is grinning as well as he walks over to you, hugging you carefully as he leans over the child in your arms.

"Of course I do. He's your best looking friend." You respond, which makes said man laugh as he pulls away. You just know that Frankie is rolling his eyes, but you aren’t wrong.

"It's nice to see you too and this-" Santiago starts, looking down at your daughter, "Must be the little girl that Fish won't shut up about."

"Pope, this is our daughter Sofía Isabel." Frankie's voice is filled with pride and adoration as his arm wraps around you. You turn your head to look at your boyfriend, grinning almost as much as he is. However you notice that something in Santiago's shift. He's smiling, but it's not in his eyes. There's definitely something wrong here. Frankie doesn’t notice is because Sofía has all of his attention.

"She's adorable. Thankfully, she looks like Y/N. You should be grateful she didn't get his nose." He says, smirking. You laugh, rocking your child slightly. You really want to defend your boyfriend’s nose, but want you want to say gets caught in your throat. A sinking feeling suddenly arises in your stomach and you try to ignore it.

"Pinche pendejo." Frankie curses, "You know what, next time I'll let you eat dinner in Tom's sad little apartment. Eat a fucking frozen meal."

-

"No seriously, Tom came to visit us a week after Sofía was born and just wouldn't stop crying. It was...depressing." You tell Santiago as the three of you sit around the dinner table, Santiago and Frankie busting up with laughter. Sofía was already fast asleep in her crib and dinner had been long finished.

"Jesus. What'd you do?" Santiago asks, leaning forward in his seat, his hand wrapped around his amber colored bottle of beer.

"I tried to console him! He had mocos everywhere-It was bad." You reply, taking a sip of water. Frankie snorts, taking another sip of beer and quickly swallowing it.

"So then I come back in the room, Tom's crying and so is Sofía so Y/N is trying to calm both of them down. It was a complete shitshow." Your boyfriend adds and you laugh, as does Santiago. It must've been a little too loud, because Sofía's cry cuts through the noise like a knife. Both your face and Frankie’s drop, your heads turning towards the hall.

"Shit." You mutter and move to stand. Frankie puts his hand on your arm. You look over to him, seeing that he's giving you a sweet little smile.

"No you've had her all day. I'll go." He responds as he stands. You nod with a smile, sitting back down in your seat as he walks down the hall. Your smile fades as you look at Santiago. It was the perfect moment for your little interrogation.

"Why are you back? You're not here for vacation, because if you were, the two of you would've talked more about it." The humor is gone from your voice as Santiago straightens in his seat. Even though he's been in worse situations than this, the color drains from his face.

"Y/N, I-" He starts put you hold a finger up, silencing him as you listen to Sofía still crying and Frankie trying to calm her down. You lower your finger as he presses his lips into a thin line.

"The truth, Garcia. That's all I'm asking for." Your voice is quiet and he puts up his hands in a mock-surrender.

"I came to try to get Fish and the others to come back with me so we can help the government take down Lorea." He informs you, his voice low as you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in. You pinch the bridge of your nose.

"Did he tell you that his piloting license was revoked? Tell you why?" You question and Santiago just nods in response. You put your head in your hands. The crying had quieted now.

"It sounds a lot worse than it is, I promise. I wouldn't have him risking his life, not now." He tries and you look up at him. You don't know how much time you have left, but it isn't much as you hear the telltale soft creaking noise of Sofía's door as Frankie leaves it slightly ajar.

"He already said yes, didn't he?" You ask and Santiago sends you a discrete look as Frankie's footsteps draw near. The fact that he didn't even try to tell you know answers your question. Your boyfriend had already decided he was going on this mission to South America.

"Said yes to what?" Frankie announces as he walks into the room. Your boyfriend sits down next to you, looking between you and Santiago.

"I was asking Santiago if you had already asked him if he was going to stay the night. He said that you did, but Santiago asked if it was okay with me, so I asked if you already said yes, that it was okay with me." You effortlessly lie and out of the corner of your eye you can see Santiago's slightly shocked face. You're grateful that he quickly masks it. Frankie gives you a sheepish look.

"Sorry, baby. I should've called and asked you." He apologizes, his hand moving to rest on your thigh. You smile at him and at Santiago, your hand moving to rest on top of his.

"Rather have him stay here than in Tom's apartment. At least you get a bed here." You tease, not completely joking. As your boyfriend and his war buddy laughed, you knew that you were going to have to bring the whole drug lord situation up with Frankie.

-

"It's nice to have him back in town." You announce softly as you walk into your bedroom, heading to the bathroom. Frankie follows after you, sitting on the ledge of bathtub as you take off your makeup.

"Baby, I-we weren't being completely honest about why Santiago is back in town." Frankie starts, looking at you in the mirror. You lower the makeup wipe, turning to look at your boyfriend. Frankie has been able to slightly sober up before the two of you had bid Santiago goodnight.

"What do you mean, Frankie? You two said he was here on vacation." You respond, trying to really act shocked. You hated lying to him, but you also wanted him to tell you everything himself. Your boyfriend wipes his face with his hand. He suddenly looks older than he did five minutes ago.

"About a week ago, Pope sent me and the others a file on his work on Lorea. He wanted us to come down there and help him out. Then he showed up at Benny's fight tonight and I told him that I didn't know because I have you and the baby and that's not my life anymore-" He starts and you sigh.

"And he convinced you to join him." You fill in and then it's his turn to sigh. You walk out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom. He stands up, following you. Frankie moves to hand in front of you, his hands moving to rest on your arms. You did not want to be mad at Frankie (mainly because it was practically impossible to do so), but you couldn't help but feel some type of anger in this situation. Frankie had already said yes to going on this mission without talking to you about it. You were sure that you were allowed to be sort of mad at him in a situation like this.

"Y/N, it's a lot of money, money we need." He tries to convince you. You give him a look because you make more than enough at the hospital and he gets his pension. You two were doing fine.

"I'm not focused on the money, Francisco. We are doing fine, babe. What I am focused on is that we have a three month-old baby and I really don't want to raise her by myself." You respond, trying to keep your voice even. Frankie's eyes soften and he pulls you into his chest, hugging you tightly. You let your eyes shut as you bury your face into his neck.

A couple of months before Sofía Isabel was brought into the world, your boyfriend had stumbled in through the door, telling you that he was sorry. You were extremely confused until you got a little closer and saw his red, dilated eyes. Nursing had taught you what that meant. Then Frankie told you that his piloting license had been suspended and you knew why. You were livid and you told him that he needed to get sober because you weren't to raise your daughter with a man that was addicted to cocaine.

Thankfully, he was sober now, but this whole situation just worried you.

"We are just going in and coming out. I'll be okay, okay? You can't get rid of me that easily, baby." He murmurs into your hair, rubbing your back. There was a lot more you worried about. Frankie was only a few months sober-four to be exact- and you worried that this whole thing was just going to push him back towards his addiction. It was already hard now, trying to make sure both he and your daughter were always okay at all times. At least Sofía let you know when she was upset.

"I swear to God if anything happens to you, I'm kicking Santiago's ass. And Tom's, Will's, and Benny's." You say, pulling away to look up at him. Frankie chuckles, his eyes only on you. When he looks at you like this, damn you feel like the only woman the entire world. For a second, it makes your anger disappear. But only for a second.

"I wouldn't expect anything less." He responds, smiling at you. Frankie kisses your forehead, his scruff scratching at your face.

"When you do you leave?" You question and Frankie sighs again. You know it must be soon when he rubs his thumb along your cheekbone. Your face must show your disappointment because he holds you a little tighter.

"Thursday, but it isn't a long trip. I'll be back before you know it. You two won't even notice I'm gone." Frankie tells you, kissing your forehead again. It's a lie and a big one. He's trying to fix the situation in any way possible, trying to soothe your nerves.

"Sofía will definitely miss her daddy." You retort and Frankie chuckles. You grin and continue, "I'm going to miss you, Francisco."

"And I'm sure as hell going to miss you, baby.  Please don't worry about me, okay?" He says, kissing you softly before you pull away from him, moving to sit down on the bed.

"See you say that and it just makes me worry about you way more." You respond, running a hand through your hair. You didn't doubt your boyfriend or his team's skills. You knew that Frankie could handle himself, but you couldn't help but worry. He wasn't exactly a fresh chicken and it wasn't like his friends were doing any better. The only two that were still sort of in their prime were Will and Benny.

"I know, Y/N.” Frankie walks over you, cupping your cheek in his calloused hand. You look up at him, taking in every little detail of your Frankie. From the wrinkles around his eyes to the way the ends of his hair started to curl to the way he leaned on his right leg a little more then the left. God, you were going to miss him like hell. However, you weren’t going to miss the smell that was wafting off of him.

“Why don’t you go shower, Frankie? You smell like stale beer and rednecks.” You tease, a smile on your face. Frankie laughs, his dimple making an appearance and the skin around his eyes wrinkling. You kiss the palm of his hand, watching him as he shakes his head.

“You know, I don’t appreciate you and Pope both making fun of me.” Frankie retorts as he pulls his hand away, “Keep it up and I’ll invite Tom over for breakfast. He’ll be crying into scrambled eggs, talking about how Molly used to make the best fuckin’ eggs.”

Translations:

Pinche pendejo - fucking asshole

Mocos- boogers

[tahitianmangoes]

When George Met Clementine

Pic by @vanderlindeee​​  💕 Clementine met George only a few months ago. It had been a mistake, a stupid mistake on Clementine’s part. ‘You shouldn’t drink the night before a job’, Black Belle had taught her that. So why was she in a saloon, too many whiskeys deep the night before she planned on robbing a banking stagecoach?

Maybe it was nerves. She’d never done a job this big on her own before. Sure, she’d held up many a stage but this was different: six riders, the driver and a gunner beside him and however many men would be inside the stage - perhaps four. That was twelve men. Clem knew she could do it. She was strong, agile and smart. Not to mention she was a quick draw and a sharpshooter should it come to it. She was sure it would, these things usually did…

The whiskey made the doubts and the worries a little quieter in her head and maybe would help her sleep better.

The stagecoach came through the pass every Sunday, Clementine had been watching it for almost a month now. She knew the route, knew the riders - the same men every week, knew how long it would take-

“You drinkin’ alone?”

The voice ripped Clementine out of her thoughts. She’d been staring at the bottom on her glass, rerunning her plan through her head for at least the ten thousandth time.

A man stood beside her at the bar. Clementine took her time in looking him up and down; he was big- brawny - his chest and shoulders broad,  at least double the width of her. He was youthful looking, his face was adorned with freckles and boyishly handsome. He wore fine clothes, a crisp white shirt unbuttoned to reveal the swell of his large chest just a little, form fitting dark patterned pants that were held up by matching suspenders. His light eyes met hers. He seemed to be enjoying the way she studied him, a careless smirk across his lips.

“I was.” Clementine answered, not returning his smile. This didn’t seem to faze the stranger at all.

“You weren’t thinking of leaving, were you?” He asked.

“And what if I was?” Clementine shot back.

The man’s smirk stretched wide as he said, “I’ve been thinkin’ about how to speak to someone as pretty as you all evening. It’d be a shame for you to leave now.”

“I’m sure that’s what you say to every girl.” Clementine said to him, turning back to her drink and sipping coyly now.

She felt her lips curl into the smallest of smiles. She never saw herself as someone outwardly attractive - not like some other women. She didn’t wear fine clothes, style her hair or use make up. She had no need for those things. So it was nice to get attention, even if it was from a stranger in a saloon who was most probably going to try his luck with every woman in there - like fishing and just waiting to hook something.

“Only the prettiest girls.” Came the stranger’s smooth reply.

“Maybe you should have come over here sooner and you might not have missed your chance.” Clementine said to him. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks a little as she spoke, not used to flirting, if that indeed was what she was doing.

The man laughed softly, he moved his head closer to Clementine’s, “so you admit I did have a chance?”

She could feel the heat coming from him. It was a hot evening regardless and that was only amplified by the man standing so close to her, his head next to hers so that all she had to do was lean into his lips… But that wasn’t Clementine. She shied away from him. She had already allowed herself to get distracted with the whiskey and now the handsome stranger.

His smile was unrelenting, even as Clementine moved away from him.

“What’s your name?” Clementine asked him.

“George,” came his swift reply.

“George what?”

George smirked, “just George.”

Clementine didn’t want to admit that she wouldn’t mind seeing what Just George had to offer but she couldn’t. Not tonight.

“Well, Just George. I have to go but it was nice to meet you.”

George sighed theatrically, clutching at his chest as if he had been shot in the heart, “would you really do this to me?” He asked her, “I don’t even know your name!”

Clementine stifled a laugh. “Wouldn’t you like to know, big boy George?”

With that, she downed the rest of her drink and she moved past him, out of the saloon.

She regretted it as she mounted Thaddeus, her sorrel Breton, and started her way back to her camp. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been intimate with anyone. Even if it was just one night with the handsome stranger, it was better than nothing...

She tossed and turned as she tried to sleep through the nerves of the upcoming morning, the heat of the night and what could have been with Just George.

****

Clementine woke up as the sun rose. Her guns were cleaned and ready - two semi-automatic pistols that she would hide under her dress. She didn’t usually wear a dress but it was necessary for today.

She had decided that the best way to do this was to perhaps fake being a damsel in distress who had twisted her ankle after her horse bolted. It was brazen but she knew she could do it. The safer option was to take cover on higher ground then pick the riders off but there was too many things that could go wrong - the stagecoach would be able to make a getaway while she sniped the riders and she only had the time it took for the stagecoach to go through the pass where there was enough cover to shield them from prying eyes…

Clementine made it out to the trail in good time. She shooed Thaddeus and tried to make herself look meek and weak, sitting on the ground and holding her leg as if it hurt.

She felt like she was waiting for hours but probably not. Her palms were slick with sweat and she could see herself shaking with anticipation as she heard the stagecoach rumbling towards her.

Sure enough and right on time it appeared in the centre of the pass where she was sitting, cradling a “sprained” ankle.

"Oh! Excuse me, could you help me?" She called up to the driver as the stage approached her and came to a halt. A couple of the riders came around front to look at her. She felt them eyeing her suspiciously and saw one of them scan the hills above the pass - that's where any sane person would have their backup hidden but Clem realised in this moment, that she was far from sane.

“What you want miss?” The gunner who sat beside the driver asked warily.

“Oh… Sir, please…” Clementine said, trying to sound soft unlike her usual blunt self, “my horse bolted and I’ve gone and hurt my ankle… You don’t think you could help me, could you? Just take me to the next town?”

One of the riders peered out at her from beneath the brim of his hat. “This ain’t no passenger coach, missy. We are on official business.” He put unnatural stress on the first syllable of the word ‘official.’

“Come on now, Clinton. She’s jus’ a girl. A pretty girl stuck out here on her own.” The driver said, greedy eyes not leaving her as he spoke.

There was a moment while the driver, the gunner and a couple of the riders all conferred before agreeing that Clementine could get up onto the coach with them.

“Can you help me up please, sir?” Clementine asked the closest rider. “My ankle’s twisted real bad.”

The rider dismounted his horse and went to help Clementine up. She moved as quick as a fox, grabbing the rider and twisting his arm up and around his back to disarm him. The other rides opened fire and Clementine used his body as a shield while she removed her guns from garters under her dress.

It all happened in a flurry, gunshots rang out clearer than a bell and the horses began to buck and tried to bolt.

Clementine made short work of the driver and gunner beside him - headshots were the most efficient. The riders were trickier and soon she had to let go of the body and take cover by the rock she had been leaning against a little earlier. As she reloaded her dual pistols, she heard commotion inside the stagecoach: “what’s going on out there?!” “It’s an ambush!” One of the riders was shouting.

Clementine popped her head over the rock when there was a gap between gunfire for her to shoot back. Two more riders down. She hunkered down though the following gunfire. They’d have to reload soon and then she could make her next move.

That was when there was a shout from down the other side of the pass. Clementine looked back to see a man approaching fast on foot. She was about to cock her gun at him, thinking he was part of the stagecoach but she soon recognised him to be the stranger, Just George, from last night.

“Don’t worry!” He called to her, “I got you!”

It happened in slow motion to Clementine. George barrelled towards the riders, shooting wildly with his repeater - Clementine wasn’t even sure if he was aiming because none of his shots landed. He shot the side of the stage coach and two of the horses threw their riders and bolted past George who ended up losing his balance and face planted heavily in the dust of the trail.

Clementine swore under her breath and she darted out, grabbing George by the shirt collars and dragged him back to the rock where they continued to take cover. Clem whistled for Thaddeus.

“What the hell are you doing?!” She snapped at George.

“Im savin’ you, ma’am!” Came George’s earnest reply, his light eyes confused as they met Clementine’s.

Clementine clenched her jaw and popped her head back over the rock again to shoot at the men left guarding the coach before she popped a bullet in George instead.

The large brown Breton was galloping into sight now. “Get up and get on the damn horse!” Clem growled at George who must have realised that it was in his best interest for him to do what he was told.

George hopped onto the back of the horse, holding onto Clementine as she kicked the sides of Thaddeus and they sped away.

Clementine didn’t stop until they reached her camp.

Never had she done a job that had gone so wrong so quickly before. She slid down from the saddle and stormed away from George angrily.

“Aren’t you going to thank me?” He asked as he got down from the horse.

Clementine rounded on him, her eyes ablaze with fury. “Thank you?!” She repeated loudly, her voice echoing off of the surrounding cliffs, “what the hell for?!”

“F-for saving you..?” George offered but Clementine could tell by the look on his face that he knew this was the wrong answer.

“You owe me big time, George.” Clementine hissed. “That was a bank stage and I was doin’ just fine robbin’ it on my own. I don’t need no knight in shining armour - especially if they’re as incompetent as you!”

“How much..?” George stammered, his cheeks burning red now.

“Four thousand dollars.” Clementine replied, emphasising each word.

Clementine held George’s gaze, glaring at him before turning on her heel and marching into her camp.

George hesitated before following her sheepishly.  “I can make it up to you!”

“Oh yeah?” Clementine scoffed.

“Yeah. I-I’ll work for you… For free of course! Anything I make will go to you.”

Clementine sat down heavily on a small canvas chair outside of her tent. She looked up at George again today much like she had the night before only she didn’t have the benefit of the whiskey to skew her judgement. Aside from being so very handsome, he was muscular. Now, Clementine was strong but she definitely could do with someone else to do all the heavy lifting and manual labour… He seemed fit, too. There was no doubt that he would be able to work.

But Clementine had been alone for so long, just her and her horse camping all over the country… The thought of another person being with her made her nervous but it was also oddly exciting.

“Ok.” Clementine said finally. “You work for me now.”

“I won’t let you down, ma’am, I swear!” George said enthusiastically.

“Hmm, we’ll see about that.”

[sincerelyreidburke]

As your local fanfic prophet, I offer you words of wisdom: The kiersey theatre boys going the jingle bell rock dance from mean girls. You're welcome

............ God, sometimes I wish I could draw.

Anyway. Percy has sent in a fantastic prompt for me to kick off the 25 Days of Kiersey with. Here’s the deal: I’m going to create a new AO3 work, which will ultimately be 25 chapters, one for each day where I do a holiday Kiersey post/ficlet/whatever. I’ll link you guys to that later today, but for now....... come with me on this journey.

Interestingly, Percy, I’ve actually thought about this before. And you’ll have to forgive me, because I’m cheating slightly and it’s only the first day— what I’m about to describe to you doesn’t actually take place during the holiday season. But nonetheless, it is very much related to the holidays.

Come with me on this journey. (Long post under the cut!)

It’s Reid’s idea. Pretty much every terrible/wonderful thing that happens in the Kiersey Drama Club is Reid’s idea. Reid has actually been trying to get three other guys enlisted under his command to do this for the past several years, but he’s never been able to push his plans through........ until one Quinn Cooper comes along.

So allow me to set the scene for you. Remember that variety show the drama club puts on every spring? Yeah, that one. Going into the spring semester of his senior year, Reid really wants to do something big and fun and obnoxious. He has tried, in vain, to get his three roommates to do this damn Mean Girls dance routine with him, but a.) he’s the only one of them who actually does acting, and b.) Jhiron Hassan would not be caught dead doing a sexy Santa dance, and also c.) you can’t teach the unique lack of shame possessed by one Reid Burke.

So the short and the long of it is that Reid has never actually gotten the chance to live out one of his biggest meme performance fantasies. You should know that, as a general rule, Reid loves Mean Girls. Honestly, he has good taste.

By the way, if you don’t know what I’m referring to by “sexy Santa dance” and “that damn dance routine,” please educate yourself at the following link.

Anyway, going on. I would have this take place at Christmas, but Reid never gets people to organize to his cause at the holidays. He’s always looking for three guys, and he can never get three. I also, for Kiersey-verse plot reasons, can’t have them do this in the winter of Reid’s senior year, because he doesn’t know Quinn well enough for it yet, and you’d be sorely mistaken if you thought I would leave Quinn out of this activity.

Going on for real this time.

In his senior spring musical, Reid observes a unique opportunity: he exists in a cast with exactly three other young, strapping men. (“Mel, isn’t it technically four? What about Spencer?” Spencer can choke.)

At some point as the spring musical season is coming to a close, and sign-ups for the variety show (which takes place during the last month or so of school) are rapidly approaching, Reid corners his castmates with a proposition.

[Dear Evan Hansen dress rehearsal. Backstage, while Ezra is messing with light cues.]

Reid: Gentlemen. Esteemed colleagues. Gather around.

Danny: Reid.

Reid: I have a mission to charge you with.

Danny: I am ready to accept it.

Quinn, who still has slight Freshman Syndrome, trying to fit in with the cool upperclassmen: Me, too!

Reid: Sign-ups for the variety show are approaching.

Cole, slightly concerned: Oh, no.

Reid: Oh, yes, Cole. Fun fact: you have to listen to me, because I’m about to graduate, and every moment you spend with me is precious.

Cole, picking his nail polish: That’s generous, but, uh, go on.

Reid: (Tries to smack Cole’s arm.)

Cole, in a monotone: Ow.

Quinn: Wait, Reid, what’s your idea?

Reid: I think you’re all gonna love it. :D

Quinn:

Danny:

Reid: :D

Cole: Uh....

Cole: Do you plan on, like, telling us—

Reid: Okay, okay! Fuck. I almost lost my train of thought. Anyway. Are you all familiar with the movie Mean Girls?

Quinn: What kind of person isn’t familiar with that movie?

Danny: It’s a premium film.

Reid: I’m impressed, Danny. As resident straight boy, I thought you’d need the most education.

Danny: What, so being straight means you can’t enjoy quality cinema?

Cole, lying through his teeth: I’m straight and I like that movie.

Cole: But what does that have to do with—

(Cole begins to realize where this is going.)

Cole: Oh.

Reid: Well, there’s a scene in it—

Cole: Oh, no.

Reid: — at the Christmas pageant or whatever, where—

(Quinn and Danny also catch on.)

Quinn: Oh, my goodness.

Danny: (Starts laughing.)

Cole: I’m not doing that.

Reid: Fuck off, Coley! How can you stare me in the face and decline participating in my one senior year wish?

Cole: Just for the record? I think you’ve told me, like, at least six separate times that something is your ‘one senior year wish.’ It’s different every time. Remember at the apple festival—

Reid: But listen—

Cole: And at Bluegrass open mic—

Reid: Hold on, though—

Cole: And that one time in your apartment—

Reid: Cole! You’re breaking my heart. Why won’t you do the sexy Santa dance with me?!

Danny: I’ll do it.

Reid: Daniel Cho, have I mentioned lately that you’re a superior man and I love you?

Quinn: I’ll do it, too!

Quinn: (to Reid) As long as you’re Regina.

Reid: Obviously, I’m Regina. You think I haven’t planned this out? You’re Cady, frosh, because you’re ginger and you’re new.

Quinn: I’m honored.😌😌😌

Reid: I’ll be fun! I’ll get us a boombox, and we can find weird slutty male costumes, and my roommate Eli can be Tina Fey and start playing the piano—

Danny, about to fall off his chair laughing: Oh my God, yes.

Quinn: I feel like Maggie may be jealous that this is happening without her.

Reid: Tell Maggie that I’m sorry, but this is reserved for the men in the drama club with the most sex appeal.

Cole: (Gagging noise.)

Quinn: Oh! And I can make us costumes!

Reid, putting a hand to his heart: You’d do that? For me? I knew you were my favorite freshman.

Danny: Okay, is it weird that I’m kind of excited?

Reid: No, it means you have good taste.

Quinn: I’m excited as well.

(Everybody turns and looks at Cole.)

Cole: 

Reid:

Quinn:

Danny:

Cole: I am Jewish.

Reid: Yeah, exactly, so you can be Gretchen, dumbass!

Cole: I hate you, Reid.

Reid, high-fiving Danny: We got him, boys!

And so it begins........ Reid gets to live out his fantasy of having absolutely no shame, Quinn gets to design his own sexy Santa costume, Danny does it for the meme, and Cole......... does it for Reid and only for Reid. It’s important that you all know that Cole wears suspenders and an open Santa jacket, because apparently that’s a thing. Quinn’s costume in some way involves short shorts. Reid would straight-up wear the dress. As we’ve recently discussed, Reid would wear a dress.

People who are not prepared to witness this but have to lay their eyes upon it anyway, an unfinished list: Bri, Jhiron, Claire, Nando........

Actually, that raises a good point. How does Nando handle this without combusting? He probably doesn’t. It’s Cell Block Tango 2.0 even though this takes place before the Cell Block Tango incident.

Quinn sewing a pair of red velvet booty shorts:

Nando: Uh......,,,, baby? Who are those for?

Quinn: Oh, they’re for me!😊😊😊

Nando: 😳😳😳😳😳😳😳😳

Quinn: I’m making costumes for the drama club variety show. It’s in two weeks. Are you coming?

Nando, sweating: Well, like, uh, 😳😳😳😳, obviously I’m coming if that’s what you’re wearing—

To the best of their ability, they copy the choreography from the movie, and they practice in one of the dance studios in the performing arts center. Imagine being a dance major, minding your own business and going to practice after hours, and you unlock the studio and that ginger freshman who starred in the spring musical is yelling choreography at three uncoordinated upperclassmen. And also Christmas music is playing. And one of them is wearing a Santa hat.

Reid pulls some drama club strings and gets them to be the last thing on the program. He swears them all to secrecy, so a limited number of people know what they’re actually performing. He wants the crowd at the variety show to be surprised.

Aaaand that’s the story of how Reid brought the house down at the final Kiersey Drama variety show of his college career. And had Christmas in April.

You may ask yourself, why? I raise you: why not?

[bitchin-beskar]

Folklore

Rating: T (some cursing, so be warned)

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: Okay, I absolutely loved writing this chapter. I don’t have a ton to say, but I hope this helps make up a little bit for the last chapter!! Enjoy!

Tags: @mxndoscyarika, @perropascal, @theocatkov, @cosmicbug379

Let me know if you’d liked to be tagged in future chapters, either in the comments or an ask!

this is me trying

You sit back on your haunches, wiping the back of your hand across your forehead to get rid of the sweat that’s collected there. You’ve been unpacking all day, and quite frankly, you’re exhausted. You look around the living room, and you feel a brief stab of despair when you see how many more boxes you have to unpack. It hadn’t seemed like you’d had a ton of stuff when you’d packed your life up after Charlie’s death, but unpacking was a completely different story. 

You stand up, stretching and groaning as you hear and feel your back crack. Walking to the kitchen, you grab your water bottle, re-filling it with water from the tap. Taking a drink, you lean against the counter, looking around at the bare walls. You want to put something up, to counter the blankness of the walls, but most of the decorations in your previous home were Charlie’s, and you didn’t particularly want any of them. Although, you seriously doubted Charlie’s mother would have allowed you to take anything from the house that wasn’t purchased with your own funds.

Just as you’re about to get back to work when there’s a knock at your door. Setting your water bottle down, you look towards the door in confusion. You’d literally arrived back in town yesterday, and you hadn’t tried to contact anyone to let them know you were back. 

Walking down the hallway, you peer through the peephole, your eyes widening as you see who's on the other side. 

You don’t even think before you’re turning the lock and wrenching the door open, startling the man standing on your front porch. A man you haven’t seen in over a year.

“Frankie?” 

His name slips from between your lips in a whisper, almost like you can’t believe he’s actually standing there. He’s got his hands in his pockets, his shoulders hunched inwards, like he always does whenever he’s feeling insecure. He’s wearing a tattered baseball cap that you recognize as the one you bought him for his fifteenth birthday. He’s not looking at you, but at the ground, and it sends a sharp stab of pain through your heart that he can’t even look at you, but you try to shrug it off.

“W–What are you–? How–How did you know I was back?”

It’s the first question you can think of, and you wince at how accusatory you sound. “I–I’m sorry, I’m being rude,” you mutter, shaking your head. “Come in, please.” You stand to the side, watching as Frankie shuffles forward, head still bowed. You close the door behind him, your heart pounding, although you’re not entirely sure why. 

He follows you into the kitchen, the only place in the house you have any seating set up. “Um, make yourself at home, I guess.” Your voice is stiff, awkward, and you hate how far the two of you have fallen. 

He sits down heavily at your kitchen table, and you prop yourself up against the counter opposite him. He pulls his hands out of his pocket, linking his fingers together on the table in front of him. 

“I–” 

He still won’t look at you, instead studying his hands in front of him. You cross your arms over your chest, biting your lip as you try to refrain from speaking, wanting him to get the words out that he came here to say.

“I’m sorry.”

You raise an eyebrow, wondering exactly what he’s apologizing for. When he doesn’t elaborate, you speak. “Sorry for what, Frankie? I can’t read your mind.”

He sighs, taking his hat off and running one of his hands through his hair distractedly. “I’m sorry for everything, sweetheart. The drugs, the mess with Francesca, not listening to you. I know I fucked up.”

“Frankie, look at me.” 

He still won’t raise his head. 

“Frankie, please.”

When his eyes meet yours for the first time, you want to cry. It kills you to see the pain and self-loathing clear in his eyes. “Frankie, baby, the shitshow with Francesca wasn’t your fault–uh uh, let me finish–and I know…” You’re fighting back tears of your own at this point. “And yes, I know you didn’t listen to me, but I didn’t try as hard as I should have, either. I can forgive you for both of those things, hell, I already have.” 

The shocked look in his eyes tears through you like daggers, but now that you have him in front of you, you have to get this out. “What I don’t understand, what I’ve never understood, is why the drugs? Why coke? What–” your voice breaks. “What was so bad that you got addicted to cocaine?” 

The last sentence is a whisper, but you know Frankie hears you. You can see it in the way he immediately folds in on himself, flinching at your whispered words. 

“I–I,” he stutters. “They were an escape, okay? I needed to feel something, anything, after…” He took a deep breath. “I was numb after we broke up. Before either of us knew the truth. I needed something, just so I could feel again. And once you told me everything, it was too late to stop.” 

You feel sick. You wrench your eyes away from Frankie, staring at the blank wall across from you in horror.

“It’s my fault.”

You hear a clatter, and before you can even blink, Frankie is standing in front of you, taking your face in his hands, forcing you to look into his panicked eyes. 

“No,” he breaths, and he’s the closest he’s been to you in over a year and your heart wants to sing, even with tears rolling down your cheeks. “No, princesa, it wasn’t your fault, never.” He leans his forehead against yours, pressing his head to yours desperately. “I got addicted because of choices I made. Not you. I’ve never blamed you, not once sweetheart. Please, don’t blame yourself for my mistakes.” 

The both of you are crying at this point, and you’re clutching desperately at his wrists, pressing his hands against your cheeks, keeping him grounded to you. Frankie’s pleas become desperate, trying to get you to understand. “When you left, I realized how badly I’d fucked up, how much I’d hurt you, and I’m sorry.” He can’t get the words out fast enough. “I didn’t know what to do, how to get help, until my pilot’s license got suspended. Pope kicked my ass in gear, and I’m sorry it took me so long to see.”

His thumbs are rubbing over your cheeks, trying to wipe away your tears, but they just keep coming, you haven’t ever truly grieved for the loss between the two of you, and now that you’ve started you can’t stop. “I know you’ve got your fiancé, and I know I’m too late, but I needed you to know that I’m getting better. I’m seeing a therapist to deal with all my military shit, and I went through rehab. I need you to know…” he broke off, closing his eyes tightly. “This is me trying, sweetheart. It’s all you ever asked of me, and I’m sorry it took me so damn long.”

Your heart is breaking and being mended for the first time simultaneously, and there was really only one thing you could do in that moment. 

It doesn’t take much effort to push your lips against Frankie’s, and you moan at the feeling of relief that courses through your veins. Your heart knew this was where you belonged, it had been fighting against your head for so long, and now you didn’t care anymore.  

He responds immediately, and you're reminded of the way he kissed you when the two of you were still in high school, hiding from your parents. He kissed you like every second might be your last, like you might be torn away from him at any second. 

It was all passion, emotional and rough, the two of you trying to show the other how you’d felt these past four years apart. You could have stood there forever, memorizing the feel and taste of Frankie over and over again, but he suddenly pulled away, and you opened your eyes to see him looking at you in a panic.

“I–I, I shouldn’t have… You–You’re engaged, I’m so sorry–”

You press the palm of your hand against Frankie’s mouth, cutting off his frantic words. “I’m not engaged. Not anymore.” You press on before he has the chance to ask. “Charlie died, it was a brain aneurysm, and–” You paused, about to admit something you’d never dared voice out loud. “Even if he hadn’t… I’m not sure I would have been able to go through with it. He never had my heart.” 

You remove your hand, and Frankie kisses you again, hard. When he’s sufficiently stolen the breath from your lungs, he pulls back, but only just. You’re panting, trying to regain the ability to breathe when you suddenly remember. 

“Oh god, Frankie, you’re supposed to be married, I–” 

It’s his turn to cut you off. “No, sweetheart. Lori-Anne dumped me after I got back from a trip with the guys from my Delta force team. I never married her.”

You can’t help the small sigh of relief that escapes you. “God, we’re so fucked up, Francisco,” you mutter, leaning your head against his chest. “We might be two of the worst people on the whole damn planet.”

He treats you to a rare smile, and it’s been so long since you’d seen one, you’d nearly forgotten what he looked like when he smiled. “Princesa, I don’t give a damn about anyone else. As long as you’ll have me, I just want you.”

“You promise? We won’t go back to what we were before?” Your fear still creeps up, trying to wrap shadowy tendrils around your heart.

“Never. I promised you I’m trying. I’m never gonna stop trying, for you. For us.”

***

“And maybe I don’t quite know what to say,

But I’m here in your doorway.

I just wanted you to know,

This is me trying.”

[fleckcmscott]

Comfort & Joy

Summary: Arthur & Y/N celebrate their first Christmas together. Not everything goes as planned.

Warnings: Swearing, Angst

Words: 4,645

A/N: A request from the mind of dear, sweet @ithinkimawriter​. Special thanks to @sweet-nothings04​ for being the wonderful beta she is!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

If you’ve sent me a request and I haven’t responded, it’s because I am working on it and will once it’s posted! 

Arthur was on his way to Y/N's apartment when the storefront's window captured his attention. Batting covered the floor, imitating fake snow. A plastic fireplace, painted yellow, orange, and red, was angled against the left wall. The artificial tree, bedecked with multi-color lights and a plethora of wrapped gifts underneath, shone prettily. To the right, a cardboard cutout of a couple wearing Santa hats and embracing stood in front of a brand new refrigerator. The large sign suspended from the ceiling, tied in a red bow, advertised low-interest store credit: "Make all your Christmas wishes reality!"

There was a sweetness to the display. A festive cheerfulness. And it induced in him an ache borne of dejection. With Penny in her parallel universe and their lack of resources, his life had never had a place for holidays. Seven or eight years ago, he'd made his last attempt at doing something special. They'd shared the turkey dinner he'd sprung for at a nearby greasy spoon. She'd been mildly cognizant of the make-up compact he'd given her, one he'd gotten off the clearance rack. Then she'd gone to bed, leaving him alone to watch the television special he'd picked out. It had been one of the rare nights he'd poured himself a drink in an attempt to sleep.

Smoke swirled in Gotham's cold, night air as he exhaled around his cigarette. The heaviness in his stomach, his hint of indignation perplexed him. Why on earth did he feel shitty when he had a chance to have the type of Christmas people wrote about? That Sinatra, Cole, and Martin sang about? The type he'd dreamed of, despite knowing he'd never have it? He frowned as he trudged down the street, hoping he wouldn't fuck it all up.

Y/N's greeting was warm as always; the refuge of her arms, the smile she reserved just for him dulled his sharpest edges. He tried to take pleasure in her simple courtesies. How she hung his tan jacket next to her coat, all the while insisting he get a hat and mittens. The hot mug she handed him, the way it thawed his slender fingers. The taste of cocoa on her silken lips as they kissed and she declared she'd missed him.

There was quiet conversation. She did most of the talking; he did his best to pay attention through the distraction of his anxiety. The cards had to be finished, she said. Just for her colleagues, a couple of family and friends, and, if he didn't mind, Penny. He didn't react to that last name, letting Y/N draw her own conclusions. She moved to sit side-saddle on the floor to work, next to her coffee table. As her hand crossed the cream cardstock, he noticed she was signing both their names. He gaped slightly in shock, delight spiking through him. But then delight twisted into unworthiness, and he averted his gaze to his hot chocolate.

He'd believed he was doing okay, though he still didn't have his medication. Especially since Penny had been transferred from Gotham General to the nursing home he'd chosen two weeks ago, and it had clicked that he'd never have to see her again. There were days he woke up (if he was fortunate enough to sleep) energized and confident. He had slipped into delusion once or twice. A call to Y/N or the feel of her hand had helped ground him and bring him back to lucidity. But his negative thoughts were bearing down on him. It was getting harder to separate what was intrusive and what was Arthur. If only he could find it within himself to be better.

Once she finished addressing the envelopes, Y/N extended a hand his way and smirked. Unsure if she wanted him to help her up or join her, he sat on the plush, cream color carpet. "I can hear you thinking. I'm surprised smoke isn't coming out of your ears," she said, laying a palm on his thigh. "You haven't told me what you want to do for Christmas."

He picked up one of the cards, traced his fingertips along the corners. He was bereft of his own traditions to draw from; all his points of reference were from popular culture. It was difficult to know what he'd actually like doing. He gave it a go, anyway. "I dunno. A tree? Listening to music? Being together?"

Chuckling, she put her head on his shoulder. "Of course we'll be together. And we can do the other stuff, too." Her voice lowered as she continued. The caress on his leg became a massage. "I get out early Thursday - Christmas Eve. How'd you feel about me being your guest for three days?"

"Hm." He loathed the possibility of exposing her to what was going on in his brain, his darker notions and malaise. He wanted to hold on for her. To be the gentle person she claimed he was, the man she claimed made her happy.

The man she was mistakenly convinced deserved her.

A kiss on the sensitive skin of his neck. "I'll bring dinner and everything."

Fuck. She thought he didn't want her, that she had to sell him on the idea of her company. He had to put a stop to that assumption. Didn't she know she'd become a brick, a building block in his unstable foundation? He couldn't deny her - he didn't wanted to deny her. Taking a deep breath, he turned to her. The warmth in her eyes buoyed him enough to use what little confidence he could muster. He took her hand, ran his thumb over the back of it, and he forced the corner of his lips up. "I'd love that."

~~~~~

There wasn't normally a spring in Y/N's step, but Arthur had a habit of causing one. She was smiling like a fool, too, walking with her suitcase and canvas bag. The happiest woman in Gotham. It couldn't be helped, even as she struggled to climb those damned concrete stairs to finally reach his block. This would be the best Christmas in ages.

The holiday had been her childhood favorite. But it had become taxing as her father's dementia had worsened, and her sister and she had grown apart. Not being able to leave her father unattended had forced them to celebrate at his house, which Y/N shared with him. A couple of slow cooker dishes would be made, ones her niece and nephews liked. She would do her best to make the large dining table festive, using a red tablecloth and making a centerpiece out of a wreath. Once everyone had sat around it, she'd alternate between taking a bite herself and trying to feed her father, trying to convince him to eat.

The final year had been the hardest. Distress had been clear in her sister and brother-in-law's faces, in their stilted conversation. The middle child had asked why grandpa wasn't talking. Y/N had never learned to communicate on a child's level, and had waited for her sister to take the lead. That hadn't happened. So she'd tried to explain the most painful, complicated situation she'd ever been in in terms a four year old could understand. When her father had started spitting out his mashed potatoes and crying, everyone had packed up and left.

It was understandable. Handling him was exhausting and she didn't want the kids to be traumatized. But it had left her resentful and grief-stricken. She'd cleaned him up and changed him. Then she'd sipped the nice wine she'd bought for the occasion and taken down the tree, tearing up with each bauble she'd put away while her father stared at the television in his wheelchair.

After dropping off a card at Ms. McPhee's, she hurried around the corner to Arthur's building. He was waiting for her at his door, dressed in the red sweater he knew she loved on him. She pecked his sharp cheekbone as he bent to take her luggage, and watched as he made a show of putting it beside the sofa. "Did you pack your whole apartment?"

"Almost," she said, already digging out the food she'd brought and placing it on the kitchen counter. The ham and pineapple casserole had to be popped in the oven for forty-five minutes. The two pieces of pie were from the diner near her office. Lastly, there were a carton of eggnog and a small bottle of whiskey.

He didn't say a lot, but she had a pretty good notion of what he was thinking: a variation on the refrain that she'd done too much. "Arthur, this is for me, too. Besides, you got the tree." Then she pulled him in for a kiss. Though his lips were soft and returned her affections, she could sense the apprehension in his shoulders, her palms sweeping across them. He was probably excited, she figured. And a little nervous, too. This was a milestone for them, after all. She smiled up at him encouragingly. "We're going to have a great time," she said. His nod was gentle.

Dinner went by quickly, which was a blessing because it was terrible. ("I swear, I followed my mother's recipe.") The apple pie was a good substitute for her favorite, blueberry. There wasn't any nutmeg to add to the eggnog. And Arthur covered the top of his mug when she wanted to spike it. He appeared to like it, anyway, and was soon pouring himself a second serving. GCR was playing Christmas music non-stop instead of news, so she turned on the radio. She led him to the living room and admired the tree he'd gotten.

The fir was maybe four inches taller than he was, probably six feet. There were plenty of branches, but it was slim enough to fit into the rear corner of the room, by the windows. The sharp, fresh scent of pine was wonderful. "You picked a great one." As she got into her luggage and dug out the white mini-lights, Arthur searched for an extension cord. Once the bulbs were in place, she knelt before the tree and handed him one of the tins of ornaments she'd packed.

Arthur tackled the upper half while she took care of the bottom. Her gaze turned up to him and she grew fuzzy all over. Concentration was plain in his squint, his handling of the glass-blown, red bulbs cautious. His fingertips carefully closed the hooks over each bough. How long had it been since he'd last done this? She reached out, giving his leg a reassuring squeeze before going through her own box of baubles. A soft sound stuck in her throat as she discovered what was inside.

"What is it?" he asked quietly.

The shellacked, round cookie was in surprisingly good shape, its ribbon firmly attached. "My sister made this for me when we were little. I'd forgotten about it." She cradled it in her palm, a peal of laughter bubbling up. "One year I got a toy oven. Set the smoke alarms off, scared my mother half to death." Sipping her drink, she shook her head. "Mabel - who's younger than me, remember - decided to show me how it was done. She was always better at that stuff."

The memory prompted Y/N to continue. She mentioned her parents taking them to a department store a few towns over to visit Santa. How she'd been completely boring and asked for a typewriter and doll, which she'd gotten. The milkshake she'd had at the restaurant on the top floor. She felt uncharacteristically wistful. "That was a lifetime ago."

Most of the tree was adorned when she noticed he'd stopped responding. It was as though he was frozen in place, his face turned towards the floor. Y/N stood, taking in the clenching of his fists at his sides, the quiver of his frame, the twitch of his cheek. "Arthur?" She reached out to take his hand.

His arm yanked back as if she'd hit him. Then he marched around the sofa, past the television, and went straight into the bathroom. The locks slid into place as soon as he closed the door.

She was stunned. And, if she was honest, disappointed. All she'd wanted was to share more of herself with him. Gingerly, she walked to the door. No light shone from beneath it. The picture of him sitting alone in the dark on Christmas Eve pained her. She knocked.

Laughter broke up the strain in his voice. "I need a few minutes." After a pause, a hushed plea. "Please don't go."

"I won't."

Her lips pursed. The last few times she'd visited, she'd made a note to check his usual spots for prescription bottles. There hadn't been any. And there'd been no indication he'd used any of the doctor appointments she'd paid for. They'd have to discuss it. But not now. New Years was next weekend. She'd mention it then, as well as her hopes they'd be living together soon, treating it as something positive.

Beyond his laughing, he hadn't yet gone into any level of detail about his afflictions, his diagnoses. Since his appearance on Murray Franklin, she'd read almost the entire "Loving Someone With" series to learn how to handle problems when they arose. It had advised kindness, calm, and providing regularity. Discussion of normal things, plans for the future. That was what she had been trying to do. Why had Arthur reacted so poorly?

Then it dawned on her: the experiences that were normal to her, to most people, hadn't ever been so for him. Her thoughts went to the terrible details in the Arkham file he'd brought over. The unspecified categories of abuse he'd suffered. His severe head injury and its permanent effects. The radiator...

She recalled his reaction to the journal she'd given him for his birthday. He'd tried, in vain, to hide how affected he'd been by it. And it was only a few weeks ago he'd meekly asked if she'd ever stop loving him, as if it was a chore for her instead of bliss. It was tough, knowing how hard he had to work to accept her kindnesses.

Rubbing her eyes, she concluded she'd been an idiot. Well-intentioned, but an idiot regardless. She'd so looked forward to making new memories with Arthur, to being able to spend the holiday with someone who could enjoy it, she'd overwhelmed him. Set him off.

He needed space and, so far, she'd always paid the respect of giving that to him. It wouldn't be easy tonight, however. Every fiber of her wanted to rush in there, hold him, and tell him to confide in her. To allow her to support him. But she needed to listen to her brain instead of her heart (which Arthur made hard to do, being the one who'd helped her unlock it). She checked her watch. Fifteen minutes would be a good compromise. She could give him that.

The music had become deafening. After turning it down, she made her way to the kitchen and put away the rest of the food. Every scrub of the dishcloth on the beige plates they'd used, every wipe as she dried the cutlery, expressed her concern. Ornaments still littered the living room floor. A few more were hung before she put their boxes in her suitcase. She worried her lip when she came across the presents she'd gotten him, wrapped in luscious greens and golds. He'd like them, she was certain. If he was up to receiving them. She placed them under the tree, adjusting the tags so he could clearly read "Arthur," written in her looping cursive.

The clink of the bathroom door being unlocked was barely audible. Not wanting him to think she'd been hovering the entire time, she waited before approaching. Then she stepped forward and slowly opened it.

The light from the hall spilled into the room, sufficient to see Arthur sitting on the pink, tiled end of the bathtub. She took in the slump of his shoulders, his arms slack and folded in his lap. He spoke and his miserable rasp split her heart. "I'm- I'm sorry. I'm ruining everything."

"You're not." She turned on the floor lamp in the corner, then sat down on the closed toilet. "It wasn't fair of me to babble on and on like that. I didn't think abou-"

"Don't." It was clear the harshness of his tone was directed at himself. His dark brows creased in the middle as he wiped his nose, embarrassment clear in every gesture. "I just... I wanna be able to enjoy this like everyone else."

The skin of his hands was pink, likely from wringing. And his nails had been freshly chewed. Her chest tightened. "May I touch you?" she asked. At his curt nod, she smoothed his sleeve up to stroke his forearm. The grimace he wore was tight enough to show his dimples.

She'd learned it was vital to speak to his virtues in these moments. That was an easy thing to do - he had many. The compliments she paid him were true, and reflected what he valued in others. "You're so caring, Arthur." Her fingertips drifted down his laugh line to his thin lips. "And good. And funny." She blinked away the tears that threatened, the news articles from his mother's file fresh in her mind. "And strong. Stronger than anyone should have to be."

A dry, hitched sob left him and he shook his head. "You don't need to tell me lies."

"I'm not. I never will." Her kiss brushed the shallow wrinkles on his trembling chin, and she took his hand between her own. "You don't have to talk about it. But I'm here if you want to." A long silence followed, interrupted only by their soft breathing. Eventually, he trailed lines down her thigh, to her knee, caressing her as if she were gossamer.

She considered how he could have gone through such brutality, yet be the gentlest person she'd ever known.

Releasing a long sigh, he leaned his forehead to hers. "I can't," he whispered, lifting one shoulder.

"It's all right." Her grasp slid up and down his sides comfortingly. "I love you. It's okay."

It was awhile before he stood, pulling her with him and against his chest. She nestled into him and soaked up his heat, carding her fingers through his loose curls. "I- I picked out a movie. I think it starts soon." He held her hand as he walked towards the living room.

The analog TV sounded with bells and strings as Y/N got a blanket from the bed. She scurried to him and saw the names Bing Crosby and Fred Astaire flash on the screen. Of course, she thought. He'd picked a romantic musical. After turning off the lamp, she situated herself next to Arthur and draped the cover over them. The opening credits were rolling, but she could feel him watching her instead of the film. Then his touch grazed her bare ankle. She shifted towards him, a smile spreading across her face at the softness of his features. "What?"

His gaze dropped. "I wish I knew how to say how much I love you. Show you somehow."

The lights from the tree were giving his skin a warm glow, and reflected beautifully in his green eyes. She tipped his chin up and kissed him deeply, until they both had to pull away for air. Pink dusted his cheeks and he grinned bashfully, crooked tooth on display. "I know, Arthur." They snuggled closer under the cover and he entwined their hands. "I know."

~~~~~

Since she'd returned to him after Murray, they'd spent an increasing number of nights together. Arthur usually let Y/N sleep as long as she needed. Insisting she wake up with him wouldn't have been fair. She worked hard and the extra hour or two was helpful. But he couldn't hold back Christmas morning.

He made a valiant attempt to pass the time. Really. He'd already shaven, smoked a couple of cigarettes, retrieved her presents, and plugged in the tree. He noticed she'd placed gifts under it, labelled "Arthur" and elegantly wrapped in paper nicer than what he'd been able to pick-up at the drug store. He glided his fingers over them. The corner of his mouth lifted. Written in her script, his name was beautiful.

Thankfully, he was in better sorts than the night before. Enthusiasm for her gripped him. He tip-toed to the bedroom and watched her sleeping form from the doorway. It was still dark - the sun wouldn't be up for another hour - but he could picture what she looked like. Her wet breathing and slight snore meant her pillow had a spot of drool near her mouth. There was a fifty-fifty chance her nightgown had twisted up just beneath her breasts. The blanket may have slipped below her waist, leaving her hip exposed. He knelt next to the bed and palmed the side of her neck, planting kisses to her face until she groaned.

"Your hair tickles," she mumbled. Her arm went around his back and brought him closer. "What time is it?"

"Early." Before standing, he gave her one last peck on the mouth. "But I couldn't wait any longer." He padded to the kitchen to start the french toast they'd decided on.

He was in the middle of cracking eggs when she sat across from him on the other side of the breakfast bar. "It's nice to have someone to celebrate with again," she said, leaning up and forward to peek in his bowl. "I'm happy it's you." He cocked his head at that. She'd had a family before, a sister and brother-in-law. Nieces and nephews. A father. He asked her to elaborate but she shrugged it off. "Just a few rough years. That's all. Don't waste your time on it."

Learning about her was one of the things he liked about having a girlfriend. As sappy as it sounded, even to himself, it made him feel like she was a part of him, and he a part of her. Dr. Sally said open communication was important. If he was going to be a good boyfriend, Y/N should be able to talk to him without fearing he couldn't handle it. He grasped her hand and borrowed her phrase from last night. "You can talk to me." Their gazes met as he ran the pad of his thumb over her knuckles. "I'm okay today."

A wry grin appeared. "Let's just say we've both experienced difficult family situations." She took his fork and finished beating the eggs for him as he turned on the stove. "This is a big step in putting that awfulness behind me."

The way she seemed to understand him, even if she was talking about herself, prompted him to clear his throat. "Me, too." He dipped the bread in the bowl, then placed it in the frying pan.

When they were finished eating (it'd been so much better than the casserole she'd made, and he'd never had real maple syrup before), Y/N poured them both more coffee and made her way to the living room. Arthur offered to turn on the news, aware she was still waiting for coverage on the Wayne Foundation case, but she waved dismissively. "I don't want to think about that today. God knows I already think about it too much."

They took turns opening gifts, sitting on the floor by the tree, close enough for him to feel the heat she was emanating. Y/N immediately opened her chocolate Santa and broke off a piece for him. The musk oil perfume he'd picked up for her at Helm's Pharmacy had been on sale for $1.79, and he was grateful he'd remembered to remove the price tag before wrapping it. She dabbed it on her wrist. It was different on her than it was in the bottle, a bit stronger than expected. But she was wearing something he'd given her, so it was lovely nonetheless. Her favorite of the three presents seemed to be the old, tapered, white vase he'd found. She needed it, he explained. That time he'd given her a rose, she'd stuck it in a drinking glass.

What he'd given her were simple trinkets, born out of a vague idea of what women were supposed to like. Despite her apparent delight and the kisses she'd bestowed on him after opening each one, they felt inadequate compared to what she gave him. There was a teal sweater, one she claimed would bring out (in her words) his "beautiful eyes." He pulled it on over his thermal shirt, tags and all. She'd gotten him a book on comedy writing. He wasn't sure how to take that - had she decided his jokes weren't very good? But then she told him she expected more material for his next stand-up show.

Picking up the last gift, he studied it with mock seriousness. Its shape and weight gave away it was a record, but he had no idea which one. They often enjoyed quiet evenings with his collection of older standards, but she preferred more modern songs. Maybe it was an attempt to introduce him to what she liked. He'd gladly listen to it, at least once. He peeled the pretty paper back and exhaled sharply. The LP was old, the cover worn. It was the soundtrack to Modern Times, a film he'd caught once or twice and loved the music of. Holding it to his chest, he murmured a quiet, "Thank you." Eagerly, he got up and put it on, letting the orchestra and his love for her wash over him, soothe his battered soul.

Y/N followed and splayed a hand on the small of his back. "Gotham Pops played this at the Wayne benefit last month." Giggling, she tousled his hair. "I spent the evening wishing you were next to me. It would have been nice to show you off, all dressed up and handsome." He stiffened for a second, wondering if he should tell her he had been there. If he should practice the honesty he'd been working on since Murray. Perhaps knowing he'd accompanied her, in his own way, would please her. But she interrupted his thoughts before he could speak. "The Christmas parade starts in an hour. We should go now if you still want to see it. Neither of us are very tall - we need a good spot." Her lips brushed his ear. "I brought an extra hat and mittens for you."

He spun to face her as he nodded, and she nuzzled at his nose and sighed. The wide smile she wore halted his breath. It would have been nice if this hadn't been his only real Christmas. If his first thirty-five years hadn't been a cruel joke, a tragedy. But he was glad to have this taste of happiness with her.

He hadn't longed for a paralegal from another part of the country, a woman who couldn't dance well and never guessed the punchlines of his jokes. But what he was about to say was true all the same. He cupped her face and kissed her firmly. "You're the one I always wanted," he whispered against her. "Merry Christmas, Y/N." The words felt unnatural - he was unsure when he had last said them.

The love in her look let him know he'd done all right. "You're the man I never knew I needed. And I do, Arthur." He closed his eyes at her embrace, laying his cheek against her temple as she cuddled into him. "Merry Christmas, Mr. Fleck." Her next sentence and the touch of her mouth to his jaw made him shiver. "Maybe next year we won't have to choose whose apartment will have the tree."

~~~~~

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[copias-thrall]

This is Halloween (Halloween)

Mary expands Suey's world by taking her to a crazy art party.

(Part: 1; 2; 3; 4; 5; 6; 7; 8; 9)

It’s one of the stretches where you actually haven’t seen Mary in a few days. He’d apparently been by your apartment—dishes were done and he took out your trash—but you’d spent that day hunkered down at a coffee shop so you could have sandwiches with a friend who got a job downtown. And while Mary can be lyrical when he wants to be, his texts are usually brief and full of letters that only make sense to him in his shorthand … so you’re not ever going to get any missives from the front lines from him.

Which is fine: you’re super-busy and full of your own hobbies. Like napping. And complaining. Occasionally you’ll round that out with chip-eating. You’ve never been particularly creative—which makes Mary wince at you every now and then (you love art, you’re just not … adept, and sometimes it seems unfair that he can write music AND lyrics AND doodle great sketches)—but you are a voracious reader. You’d been shocked to find out that not only had Mary read Austen, but he also had a love of Persuasion—a novel you yourself found superior to Pride & Prejudice. He’d been similarly chuffed when he’d realized you liked Chuck Palahniuk for more than just Fight Club. 

Which is all to say that when Mary’s not around, you like to combine your hobbies—a little chip eating while you read, only to fall asleep with the book on your face. 

Tonight is no exception.

It’s nearly Halloween (it’s tomorrow actually, and you’re only slightly bummed that Mary has to work), so in honor of the holiday you’re working your way through an anthology of Lovecraft. Unexpectedly, there's a knock at your door. You check your phone, but there are no texts.

Hmm.

There’s another knock, so you set down the book and sprint to your bedroom to take up what Mary has dubbed your “Masher Hammer.” You make it back to your apartment door just in time for a third series of knocks. When you look out the peephole, however, it’s clear that whoever’s on the other side is blocking the viewer.

Gripping your hammer tight—ready for swing mode—you unlatch your door and open it.

You’re met with the sight of a Jack O’Lantern. 

No—

Not a Jack O’Lantern … some guy with a carved pumpkin on his head.

“Ta-d—Jesus Christ, Suey … put Masher down,” says a muffled voice.

“Mary?”

Mary lifts the pumpkin—a real pumpkin, not a plastic basket from the dollar store—a little off his head enough for you to make out his face. You lower your swinging arm.

“Why is there a pumpkin on your head? What are you doing here?” 

He spreads his arms out and does jazz hands. “Mischief Night!” 

When you just stand there squinting at him, he finally takes the pumpkin fully off his head. His hair is squashed, and he’s only wearing some light makeup around his eyes and on his lips.

“So, you gonna let me in, or … should I duck?”

“Oh, right,” you say as you step back.

As Mary suanters in, you can see his eyes sweep to the couch where you’ve made a nest of blankets and pillows—your book lying face down, and the open bag chips positioned at an optimal angle on the coffee table.

“That looks nice.” He sidles up to you to squeeze your tits through your hoodie. “Almost makes me want to call it a night and get cozy in those blankets … I could crush those chips and lick them off you before I eat you out.”

His hand slides down to your crotch.

You’re trying to take him seriously, but he’s holding a pumpkin under his arm. You snap at his face.

“Mary—focus. What the hell?”

He gives you a put out look, exaggeratedly pushing out his bottom lip—but it’s soon replaced with a wicked grin.

“Mischief Night! Do you wanna go to a weird-ass art party?”

“An art party?” you ask dubiously.

“No, not what you’re thinking.”

He sets down the carved pumpkin on your table and walks to your fridge, rummaging around before pulling out the pisswater beer he keeps around.

“Think of it as a teen-movie house party—but on steroids and no one there got laid in high school. With, you know: art.”

“That’s … very specific.”

He walks back over to you, cradling the beer in one hand, and puts the other on your shoulder.

“We are under no obligation to participate in the orgy.”

You don’t think he’s joking.

He gives you a once over. “It’s also a—hmm—masquerade, so we gotta get you outfitted.”

Your mind darts.

“I only have those stupid headband cat ears my friend got me as a joke.”

He gives you a vulpine smile. “You’re gonna go as me.”

It had been a fun little party of two as you’d put on a YouTube Halloween playlist from your phone. Mary’d given you a dramatic mohawk with his precious airplane glue, then fished around in the pink makeup bag with hearts (that you’d put his stash in as a joke and he’d kept) to give you his iconic look—blood and all.

There was no way you were going to fit in his skinny jeans, but you’d been able to pair one of his well-worn tees (that you hadn’t already stolen) with your favorite denim skirt. Mary had taken off one of his studded belts to wrap around you—it’d needed a couple of safety pins to act as extensions, but Mary had assured you that that just made the style more authentic. Upon Mary’s request, you’d put on your ripped fishnets, and you had your own worn Docs to complete the look.

“Do I get to be a sex-crazed jerk all night?” you’d asked as you’d admired yourself in the corroded full-length you had propped up by the bathroom.

“You say that as if that’s something new and different for you—fuck ow,” said Mary as you’d tapped his balls.

“So where is this place?” you ask as Mary and you head to the train. 

It’s in the old factory district, which means it’s a ways away, but still subway accessible.

“It’s actually in a converted co-op. I think they started out as squatters—unclear—but now it’s above board as a residence and shit. I used to know a guy who lived there for a while—they had sectioned off areas with screens—and he had a corner so he slept in a hammock. Most of the space is for their art, though. What a fucking life to live.”

You look at him, incredulous. “Mare. You live in a 2 bedroom with 4 other dudes.”

He scoffs at you. “We also have a couch. It’s a whole ‘nother level.”

You just hum at him.

When you finally get there—after a few mis-turns in this silent neighborhood full of abandoned brick factories—you’re surprised (despite Mary’s description) to see that the place is lit. There’s a guy standing at the entrance to the parking lot (that slopes dangerously toward the river) checking attendees; it becomes clear that not only is he checking for 21+, but for alcohol and toilet paper. Those without either have to “donate” $10.

“Oh—” says Mary right before it’s about to be your turn. “I’m not Mary tonight.”

“What should I call, then? The ‘Great Pumpkin’?”

“Just not Mary,” he hisses as you shore up to the “bouncer.”

The guy is not in any kind of costume—just grey sweats and a sports team hat. He’s sitting on a bar stool, and he has a little flashlight he’s using to check IDs.

“Hey, guys!” he says cheerily. “Welcome to Magical Mischief Mystery at the Factory. IDs? Ah! TP and suds? Cool, cool.”

He checks your IDs, then looks at you, then your IDs … then at Mary’s pumpkin face, then at you.

“OH MY GOD,” he starts chortling and slips off the stool to grab Mary’s arm. “Mary, you old bastard—I haven’t seen you since Dusty left to get hitched.”

You take a deep breath and—in your best screamo voice—you say, “I’m fucking Mary Goore,” (not a lie) “and he’s ‘Late for Dinner’.”

The pumpkin head turns to you. You can feel Mary’s unamused gaze.

The bouncer starts wheezing so hard that you’re afraid he might expire from laughing.

“Fuck, fuck,” gasps the dude. He shakes his head, eyes watery from mirth, and waves the two of you through.

“I hate you,” says Mary.

“I didn’t call you ‘Mary’, though,” you quip as you slip your arm through his.

“Why do I have to carry all the shit? Here. Pull your fucking weight.”

Mary hands you the toilet paper roll he heisted from your bathroom.

“Are we going to TP something?” you ask as you take the roll from him.

“Heh. No, it’s purely functional. This many people? It’s so the bathrooms don’t run out.”

The two of you enter with another mass of people, traveling through the miasma of secondhand smoke from the smokers. You cough, but Mary inhales deep, sighing. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but you gape as you look around.

You and Mary stand on an open floor—which is what 5 or so floors look out onto all the way up. The place is crowded, but not jam packed. There’s a makeshift kitchen area where a dude in a bare chest and suspenders is accepting the toilet paper and libations. Above him is a white sheet that’s stretched out, on which an Art Film is being projected. The film has no sound because in the far corner there’s a DJ spinning, and a group of people are “dancing” to his jams. Mary was right: it’s like some kind of frat party for the artsy set. Because of the theme, most everyone is in a mask of some sort, and people—or groups of people—are making out in corners in various states of undress. 

Mary grabs two beers, then leads you to a staircase—there’s a freight elevator by it, but it’s got cheesy Halloween “do not enter” tape blocking it.

“The first year too many people loaded into it, and it dropped 3 floors before the emergency brakes kicked in,” says Mary as he notices where you’re looking.

In a loft on the second floor you and Mary watch a woman—nude and covered in white paint—become the canvas to her girlfriend’s landscape painting.

In what’s clearly a shared bedroom, you and Mary peruse some really great paintings and sketches from what must be a number of the co-op residents.

“You should have told me to bring cash,” you say.

“We can always come back. I know a guy.”

You imagine Mary’s probably winking at you.

On the third floor there’s an inexplicable open-air kitchen attached to a bathroom. In it there’s a dude doling out beer from a keg.

“What’s this,” Mary asks him.

“It’s my homemade IPA, dude! Pumpkin for the season!”

He hands Mary a business card.

“We have a small space in the boonies, but we’re trying to get a brewery up and running in the city. Red tape though, man.”

“I fucking hear that.” Mary takes a sip. “Good shit, dude.”

The guy high-fives Mary.

“One for your girl?”

Mary hands you the solo cup, and you take a sip. You were expecting something grassy and hoppy—but the pumpkin actually balances it out nicely without it itself being cloyingly sweet. When you nod, Mary just lets you have his and indicates to the brewer to pump another cup.

The two of you enter what you think might usually be a studio space, but instead there’s a burlesque performance going on. There are some people making out, but Mary and you watch, rapt, praising the skill of the performers to each other.

The fourth floor has the least amount of people. Someone is doing a reading in one corner, and across the way there’s some sort of performance art going on. A woman stands in a white shift and gauze. Every time a dude who looks like a Nazgul rings a bell, she contorts herself to a different pose with a dancer’s ease.

You roll your eyes, but Mary begs your patience—watching solemnly as she continues.

“What is it?” you ask when the set is clearly over.

“Did you not feel it?”

“Uh …”

Even through the pumpkin you can feel his eyes on you.

“She’s a dancing monkey. Bound and constrained, only ever allowed to perform at the whim of her faceless master.”

“Mary …”

“No—don’t scoff. That was meant for you. It’s an allegory for the patriarchy, and I for one found it quite moving.”

You guess you can see it now that Mary’s pointed it out to you. He takes off the pumpkin, and you hold it while he goes over to talk to the woman. You shift uncomfortably as they engage, and she grabs his hands, shaking them profusely. Mary suddenly points over at you, and the woman waves and motions you over.

“Oh my god, look at you!” she squeals. She turns back to Mary. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it—she looks just like you.”

“I liked your patriarchal allegory,” you say.

Mary twists his mouth at you, but the woman just presses her hands to her chest.

“Thank you so much. I’m testing it out here as a protest piece. A bunch of us are going to travel to different cities and perform outside of big corporations.” She grabs Mary’s wrist. “Your boyfriend is wonderful. His song about—”

“—my band’s song—”

“—the nature of performative gender roles is one of my favs.”

You have no idea which song she’s talking about, but Mary looks pleased. So you’re pleased. You wrap your arm around his waist.

“He is pretty great.”

She lifts her veil to chug the glass of water Nazgul hands her.

“It was so nice to meet you person to person, Mary. I’m going to find the ladies before my next performance.”

“Love your work, Lizzy. I’ll put you on the list for our shows. Show up anytime!”

She bows and shuffles backwards as Mary leads you away.

“You have no idea what song she’s talking about do you?”

“I—” you sputter. “Uh. Dead Things?”

Mary looks at you indulgently.

“I’ll let you think about it.”

It turns out that the 5th floor is off limits to party goers, so Mary—back in his Jack O’Lantern—and you wander down to ground level to acquire more beer and to join the crowd of dancers. At some point the two of you take a break to pee, then hydrate as you add your own dialogue to the film on loop above you.

Back on the dance floor, there’s some skanking, some goth writhing, and some line dancing as the DJ spins his own set and sprinkles in some crowd requests. At this point in the night, most of the attendees have already made passes through the upper floors and are now all on the dance floor. Mary does some goth stomping (his pumpkin abandoned and now being passed around), and you do a silly skank until you slip on a slick spot and fall on your ass. After that, Mary pulls you close and grinds against you, his thigh between yours, both of you buzzed from multiple trips to the bar.

“Do you wanna find a corner?” he whispers into your ear.

In any other situation you’d probably say no … but—for all the crowd is packed—this is clearly a private party, one whose hosts don’t frown upon a little bit of lechery. You guess he wasn’t kidding about the orgy, after all.

“Yeah,” you breathe.

It takes a little investigation, but Mary and you find a room that seems to have been either designated or usurped as the makeout room. There’s a writhing mass in one corner, and the bed is covered in rolling bodies. There’re some breathy invitations—and a hand or two lightly caresses your calf as you walk by—but no one insists on participation further than that. 

Mary yanks a pillow from the bed and tosses it to the floor. He pulls you down so that you’re both on your knees, his mouth capturing yours and his hands alighting everywhere. A hand of his sneaks down your skirt, and yours slithers down his jeans—the roving fingers of you each more a prelude than anything, stoking you both up to what’s next.

“Can I fuck you?” huffs Mary.

“Kinda drunk,” you say.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No—just not gonna be very useful,” you giggle.

Because you wore the fishnets you’re not wearing underwear, so all Mary has to do is rip a hole in the crotch area—they’re not even good fishnets, so it’s not like there’s a liner to contend with. He grunts at your wetness.

“You sure?”

“Fuck me, Mary.”

He fumbles with his dick, finally managing to sink it into you. It’s a very awkward fuck—you’re lolling all about the place, and Mary isn’t being particularly steady.

At one point a light turns on only for a Sorry! to squeal out as it turns off again.

You try to swallow your laugh, but your jiggling belly can’t hide your reaction, and soon Mary is laughing too.

“Fuck … shut up … fuck,” he giggles. “I’m trying to get off here.”

You’re just catapulted into further fits, and before long Mary’s soft cock is slipping out of you as he joins you in snickering.

“Crap. I might be too drunk for this too.”

The two of you lay like that for a bit, a feedback loop of laughter, until your belly muscles ache.

“Fuck. Take me home, Suey.”

“Yeah, ok,” you say. 

After some readjusting, you both stumble out of the room. The crowd has thinned, but that’s not to say the dance party isn’t still going strong.

“We should get a cab,” you say.

“Cash?” Mary asks as you guys shuffle out of the building.

“App,” you say as you hold up your phone to poke at your cab app. “My card s’on file.”

“Fancy.”

“S’for emergencies.”

“Oh.”

You give him a lopsided grin. “Like staying too late at a factory party.”

There’s a comedy of errors when the cab can’t find you and cancels, and you have to rebook—only to have the same cab automatically cancel your order again. Mary calls the number for dispatch, and they direct you out to a main street. The cab that picks you up is the same cab that voided your reservation twice, and he yells at you for giving him the wrong address.

You let Mary argue with him (content to doze on his shoulder)—the conclusion seeming to be that while you put in the correct address, the app didn’t like it and spit out a close, but different, pickup address.

By the end of the trip, however, the cabbie and Mary seem to be old friends. He lingers even after the driver validates your card, talking with the guy about where he’s from, until you tug on his arm.

“Sleepy,” you grumble into him.

The cab driver laughs.

“We are beholden to our women, yes?”

“Happily,” says Mary as he wraps an arm around you.

“Have a good night,” says the cabbie, and Mary just raps on the car, waving as it pulls away.

 “What a cool dude,” he says as the two of you shuffle toward your building.

“Mhm,” you mumble.

“Jesus, you’re useless when you’re drunk.”

There’s a lot of fumbling and stumbling, but you both finally make it into your apartment. Somehow Mary gets you into the shower, which you don’t even realize until it turns on, and you shriek when the cold water smacks you in the face before it has the chance to warm up.

“Why am I still in my clothes?!” you whine.

Mary pokes his head in.

“You fucking serious? You almost bit off my fingers when I tried to undress you!”

“I’m more than just sex!” you yell.

“Just fucking wash your face.”

“Kay.”

You fall asleep sitting in the shower, waking only when the water turns cold. It seems to have had a sobering effect, because you definitely feel more clear headed than when you entered—it’s not as funny to be slightly sober and peeling off your cold, wet clothes. Usually you give your teeth the full experience, but tonight (this morning?), you just give them a quick brush.

For all he seemed soberer of you two, Mary doesn’t seem to have fared much better. He managed to get his shirt off, but he’s lying on your bedroom floor—curled in a ball—still in his unbuckled jeans. It would be amusing—and maybe after sleep it will be—if you weren’t so wrecked. It’s a struggle tugging off his jeans, and he semi-wakes halfway through and starts to shiver.

“Wha—?”

He looks at you blearily.

“Help me get your pants off, Mare bear.”

He blinks down at his legs, then sort of squirms his legs to help you wiggle him out of the black denim. Luckily—disorientated as he is—he’s able to assist you in getting him into your bed; he conks out again the minute you trundle him under the covers. The night outside is lightening, and you know there’s no way you can work tomorrow. Today.

Whatever.

You shuffle into your living room and start up your laptop, blinking rapidly as it boots up. When it finally loads, you send off a missive to your supervisor about potential food poisoning you’ve contracted, but how you’ll check your email later this afternoon. You preemptively down some ibuprofen and sneak some of Mary’s Pedialyte.

Mary seems dead to the world when you climb into your bed, but he’s rolling over and wrapped around you as soon as you’re settled, huffing into your neck.

“Took the morning off,” you mumble.

He hums.

You’re in a good doze when he speaks, jarring you back awake.

“Had fun?”

“Yeah, Mare. Now, shh.”

He mumbles something into your neck, but it’s too incoherent and you’re too knackered to decipher it. You just relax into his koala embrace and let sleep take you.

⬅️Previous | Next ➡️

[ronninoir]

Can I Steal You For A Second? Chapter 23

Summary: Adrien is forced to participate in a new dating show, but becomes more excited when Ladybug says she’ll participate as her civilian self.

AKA: AU where Adrien doesn’t know Marinette, the superheroes are 22 and Gabriel is mean and ruthless but not Hawkmoth.

Read on AO3

Start from the beginning Chp 1 on AO3

Chapter 23

Marinette hoped that she had explained her plan well enough to Chat last night that this week would be the end of Lila’s reign on her life, and possibly her time on the show. Thankfully, he trusted her plans without any doubts, so that just left Marinette to worry about the success of it all.

Monday was a slow affair, and for some reason they didn’t do the date card until late that afternoon. Rumor was that Adrien had to make some last-minute changes to the date cards and the people who were going on it. Marinette hoped that rumor was true.

Once they were all gathered in the Date Card room, Camille was asked to go retrieve the date card when the knock came. There was a dramatic pause, which Marinette has decided is what the Bachelor show is best at, before Camille read, “Sasha,” as receiving the one-on-one. The card said something cheesy like, “Let’s go exploring,” and all of the girls broke out in squeals of excitement for Sasha, including Marinette. It was only later that Marinette realized that the date card didn’t have a pun on it. She made a mental note to ask Adrien about that once they pulled off their plan.

Waiting for the group date card the next day was agonizing, especially when the only thing the girls had to talk about once Sasha was prepped and ready was what the last-minute change could have been to the date cards. Marinette tried very hard to not get involved in those conversations just because she knew what Adrien had done because she was the one to suggest it.

The next morning, the girls all gathered to send Sasha off. They were down to eight girls, and going on one-on-ones were almost more of a risk than a fun time, as it was fully possible that Adrien could send someone home at the end of the date, rather than giving them a rose. After Sasha left, they were ushered into the Date Card room and Juliette was chosen to read the two date cards. When the knock at the door came, she squealed a little and came back waving the cards like she owned the world, which in this moment she kind of did.

“I’ve got the group date card!” she announced to the group, just for the sake of appearances. She snapped open the card, took a deep breath, and began to read, “Hanna, Camille, Lila,” that got a small sneer from Lila and a gloating smirk from Juliette before she continued. “Marinette, Juliette,” she did a small hair flip and dance to show that she was excited. There were only two girls left, Lucie and Kagami. The former looked nervous and slightly excited that she could be the first to get two one-on-ones, whereas the latter looked as though she would rather be running around stabbing people with her sharp stick than sitting in this room listening to these names.

Juliette took another deep breath before reading off, “Lucie,” the girl deflated slightly, but everyone seemed very excited for Kagami, even if she didn’t. Although Marinette could have sworn she saw a small smile cross Kagami’s face, but she could have imagined that.

“I think I’ve found my perfect shot.” All of the girls stilled, trying to figure out the meaning of the date card. Even Marinette didn’t know what this could be, but she had a hunch it had something to do with photos, knowing Adrien.

Kagami’s date card was read quickly, it saying something about “practicing together.” After they were done recording, everyone took a moment to congratulate Kagami on her one-on-one before rushing off to find outfits and get excited about their group date.

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

 Marinette only told Hanna and Juliette about her camera theory, but looking at the set-up before them, she wished she had been more vocal about her guess; the impressed looks that Hanna and Juliette were giving her from across the group were very satisfying. Before them all was a white stage that was very clearly set-up for a photoshoot, just like they had done before they were all cast in the show.

They were inside of a studio that was set-up with multiple stages so multiple girls could take pictures at one time. Behind the gathered group of girls were doors that Marinette assumed led to dressing rooms. Adrien was in the corner, talking with a tall man with rust colored hair wearing red and green plaid pants, a white shirt and grey suspenders. Adrien seemed very comfortable around him and was nodding and laughing at something the man had said. Once Adrien noticed the gathered girls, he brought the man over and addressed the group.

“Good morning ladies! I have something very exciting planned for today. Part of my everyday job for my Father’s company is to take photos in all the new clothes for magazines, posters, and billboards. Today, we are going to be staging a photoshoot, but this one has a special twist to it.” Adrien’s smile grew brighter, and Marinette became very sure that this idea really was Adrien’s. Very rarely did he ever look that proud. “Because we are in Paris, the home of Ladybug and Chat Noir, we are going to be modeling outfits inspired by the superheroes and the various villains they have faced.” 

Marinette blanched slightly, suddenly terrified that Adrien would make her dress up as Ladybug. She could see the excitement dancing in his eyes as their gazes locked and she shook her head ever so slightly at him. He shot her a quick wink before moving on in his speech.

“You guys are going to randomly pick which characters you’ll be dressed as out of a hat, and then the outfits will be altered to fit you, but the make-up and shoes will be up to you. Before we do all that, let me introduce our photographer today.” Adrien smiled at the man he had brought over with him. “This is Vincent, and he’s been taking my picture since I was little and didn’t know how all of this modeling stuff worked.”

Vincent let out a laugh and addressed the group of girls, “You think he’s handsome now, ladies, you should have seen him with his chubby cheeks and awkward smiles.” His accent was very strongly Italian, and Marinette saw Lila stand a little taller about having even more of a connection with the man taking pictures of them today.

Adrien let out a laugh, and the group of girls giggled. It was very clear that Adrien was comfortable around Vincent, which Marinette imagined helped when he was going through long photoshoots with him. “If you’d like, Vincent can share more baby stories later. Right now, let’s get to the fun stuff.” One of the crew members stepped out from behind the equipment then, with an actual hat, that must contain all of the different outfit choices. It was passed around and the girls were able to pick who they would be today. 

Camille picked Evilllustrator, Lucy picked Chat Noir (which Marinette noticed Adrien was extremely relieved about), Juliette picked Pixelator, and Hanna picked Horrificator. Marinette was one of the last to pick, only Lila and Adrien left, and she was slightly freaking out that none of the girls had picked Ladybug. When the crew member brought the hat over to her, she quickly glanced at Adrien and shot him a slightly panicked look before reaching her hand into the outstretched hat. There were only three pieces of paper left, and she grabbed the third one she had touched and pulled it out. Marinette’s heart was beating fast and she was terrified of what that paper would say, hoping beyond hope that her Ladybug luck would carry over to just this piece of paper and allow her to be anyone except Ladybug. As she opened the paper, her sigh of relief was audible, but she turned it into a squeal of excitement when she saw what was written. “Lady WiFi,” she announced to the group, a huge smile spreading across her face.

She glanced back up at Adrien and saw that he was just as relieved as she was. Lila was next and pulled out “Darkblade,” which she seemed annoyed about. Marinette was starting to wonder if anything actually made Lila happy. Adrien was the last to draw, and considering everyone knew what name would be in there, Marinette couldn’t help but let out a laugh with the other girls. Adrien, being the drama queen that he was, made a big show out of pulling the paper out of the hat, fumbling to open it, and then announcing to the group that he would be dressed as Ladybug.

They were then dismissed to find the dressing room that had their outfits listed on them, and Marinette immediately turned to join Hanna and Juliette to begin the search. As she was about to start walking towards them, a voice startled her from behind.

“I see you making eye contact with him,” Lila whispered into Marinette’s ear. Marinette felt her heart sink a little. She had gotten so caught up in the date and everything that she and Adrien had planned that she forgot that Lila still monopolized on her time with Adrien. “It stops now. No more eye contact, no talking, nothing. You do as you’re told and that’s it.” Marinette turned around to snap an “I know,” but Lila had already disappeared. 

“Come on, Marinette!” Hanna called from the door that did lead to the dressing rooms. Marinette shook her head once, to clear the feel of Lila breathing down her neck, and quickly crossed to the other side of the stage.

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

To say Marinette was excited was an understatement. The outfit they had planned out for Lady WiFi was perfect, in Marinette’s opinion. They had given her a light black sweater, with a black, purple, red and white plaid skirt. She tucked the sweater into the skirt and threw a long, light purple, clear coat, almost like a rain jacket, on top of it. She found some purple tennis shoes, and a matching pair of knee-high tube socks, that accented the plaid skirt really well. She decided to put her hair up in space buns, half up, half down style, and she threw on some red ribbon, like from her Ladybug pigtails, to accent the red in her skirt. Finally, while she was rummaging through the accessories they had supplied her to choose from, Marinette found a purple and black striped tie to finish off the ensemble.

When she walked into the hallway, Juliette and Lucie were waiting there, also dressed and ready to go. Juliette looked stunning in her Pixelator outfit. It was a mostly teal jumpsuit made of stretchy material that looked very soft, that was accented by curving black stripes on the legs that made her look taller. The top of the jumpsuit had black accents as well as dark purple almost maroon at the top that made it look like she was made of pixels. There was a jacket on top that had the same pixel-like design on it, with different shades of teal and purple and black. The sleeves were bell sleeves and the ends were boxy and almost shredded looking to appear more like pixels. She had paired the outfit with some teal boots, a silver and teal necklace and a ball cap that had the same color scheme and pixel appearance as the outfit. Her dark hair was styled down and straight, but pulled out of her face and done to let the ballcap shine.

Lucie was easily recognizable as Chat Noir. Instead of a skin-tight outfit, however, she had on baggy black pants, a plain black T-shirt, a chunky black and neon green jacket with cat eyes on the pockets, and a green and red plaid shirt tied around her waist. She was wearing lime green Jordans, and like Marinette, her hair was pulled into two space buns, but in front of each of them were black and green cat ears to pull the whole ensemble together. Where Marinette and Juliette had kept their make-up more natural, Lucie had gone with bright green eyeshadow and dark green lipstick.

“You two look amazing!” Marinette gushed as she walked to meet the girls in the middle of the hallway.

“Marinette, that outfit is adorable!” Juliette gushed, giving Marinette a gentle hug. 

“Do you want to know something super crazy?” Marinette started, and both Lucie and Juliette nodded eagerly. “My best friend was akumatized into Lady WiFi.” 

“No way!” Lucie exclaimed.

“She’s going to freak when she sees me dressed in an outfit inspired by her, kind of.” Marinette giggled, imagining Alya screaming at the TV and posting about it on the Ladyblog.

“This is such a fun date idea!” Juliette squealed, and Lucie and Marinette echoed their agreement as Hanna stepped into the hallway to join them.

Where Juliette’s outfit was all teals and black, Hanna’s was all pinks and purples. She was wearing a fringe, off the shoulder, shirt that was pink that ombréed into purple. She was wearing overalls over the shirt that had the same obréed look from pink at the top to purple on her legs. The top of the overalls had little white teeth, as well as the pocket on the side. Hanna had pulled her blonde hair into pigtails and tied them up with hair ties that looked like yellow eyeballs. Her choker also looked like a monster eye and her shoes were Jordans, but these were pink and purple. Her eyeshadow was also purple and her lips a pink that matched her color scheme. Hanna’s outfit made her look younger than she was and matched her carefree, joyful attitude perfectly.

The girls began chatting and were moved into the staging area by a crew member so as to not block the hallway. Adrien was already waiting in the staging area, and when Marinette spotted him, she stopped dead in her tracks. While she had been consciously aware that Adrien would be dressed as her, she wasn’t mentally prepared to see him in her signature red and black spots.

He was wearing a bright red suit set that was covered in black polka dots. He had on a black button-down shirt and a red and black polka dotted tie. His shoes were smooth black dress shoes, which caused him to look like his normal, handsome self, just sporting more spots. Thankfully, Lila wasn’t around as Adrien’s eyes immediately met hers. She watched him drag his gaze up and down her body, analyzing her outfit, just as she had done to him. He gave her a sweet smile and walked up to the group of girls, complimenting them on how they looked.

Camille arrived shortly after, wearing a black and white striped top with cut-out shoulders, the seams colored one red and one a light blue. She wore black leggings that faded into red, white boots with colored balls at the end of the laces, and her hair pulled back with multi-colored hair ties. She had added earrings that matched the light blue, red and yellow accents of the outfit and a yellow necklace that helped her neck look less bare.

Nearly ten minutes after Camille walked in, Lila graced them all with her presence. She looked less upset about her chosen akuma and was walking smugly toward the group. Marinette did have to admit that she looked beautiful. She was wearing a sweetheart neckline dress that poofed out into a skirt that stopped around her mid-thigh. The top of the dress had black and grey stripes, her waist wrapped in a red stripe. Below the red were three layers of skirt that Marinette could see. The bottom layer was red, then a black, topped with a shimmering tulle that was a light grey that sparkled when she moved. She had a light grey gossamer material that covered the top of her chest and travelled down her arms. Her legs were covered in black leggings and she had chosen bright red heels that matched the coloring of the dress very well. There was a black and red necklace around her neck and her hair was down, curly, and flowing as she walked. As she got closer, Marinette noticed that sprouting from the neckline of the dress and gracefully covering her shoulders in strips, were pieces of silver metal that must have represented the knight outfit of Darkblade.  

Once everyone had arrived on the stage, the photoshoot started. Marinette was handed a black plastic cell phone, and Juliette a camera to loop around her neck, and then they were off. There were three staging areas total around the room, and while crew members were positioning some girls, others were having lighting adjusted while the last actually had their pictures taken by Vincent, who rotated around the different stages, calling out poses for them to make and saying things like “Think of the spaghetti!” which either confused the girls or made them laugh. Marinette had a moment of satisfaction when Vincent ignored Lila’s comments about being a model and being from Italy as well and focused on correcting her positioning and praising Marinette for her natural posing ability. 

All of the girls took turns taking pictures with just Adrien, one by one. During Marinette’s solo picture, the only time she was allowed alone with him thanks to Lila, Adrien took advantage of it and whispered in her ear, “How weird is it to see me in your spots?”

“Interestingly enough, it’s not the first time,” she replied with a laugh. He quickly joined in, remembering the chaos that had been Reflekdoll, right as Vincent snapped a picture.

“Perfetto!” he cried, before moving on to the next set, Adrien following him, but giving Marinette a wink before getting posed with Camille.

After they were all done with that, Vincent paired up the Akumas and everyone rotated around, taking pictures with everyone else. A lot of pictures were taken of Lucie and Adrien together, since they were Ladybug and Chat Noir, and every akuma took a picture with the two heroes as well, which were always super fun. At the very end, they took a couple of group pictures, and Marinette couldn’t wait to see how they turned out. By the end of the date, Marinette was tired and pictured out, but was unable to keep the smile off of her face. The photoshoot was a lot of fun, and it helped that she had friends like Hanna and Juliette to make the day portion of the date even better.

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

Marinette dressed for battle tonight, putting on black, sparkly dress with a very low V neckline held up by a small slice of fabric on both shoulders, a slit on her right side that went up to her mid-thigh and a short train of the dress that slid across the floor when she walked like a snake. Her simple black heels made her almost the same height as the other girls, and Marinette walked into the hotel for the night portion of the date standing taller than she ever had before on the show.

They were seated on the couches, chatting excitedly about the date they had had that morning, when Adrien walked into the room.

He was wearing a light blue and white pinstripe suit, paired with a light pink button-down shirt and tan leather shoes. He was without a tie and his suit coat wasn’t buttoned, giving Adrien the look of someone going to a much more casual event, though he looked no less jaw dropping.

“Good evening ladies, you look wonderful tonight,” Adrien said as he stopped in front of the gathered girls to give his expected speech. “I had such a wonderful time taking photos with you all on the date today, and I am excited to be able to talk with each of you tonight.” His eyes lingered slightly on Marinette when he said that, before quickly moving on. “So, without further ado, Hanna, can I steal you for a second?”

The night dragged on slowly, and as the passing minutes went by, Marinette became more and more anxious. She was grateful that she was pulling this off with Adrien by her side, otherwise she probably would have accepted her defeat a while ago. It was something Marinette had been thinking about recently. Chat looked at Ladybug as though he couldn’t accomplish anything without her by his side, and sometimes the world looked at them the same way as well. But Marinette knew that she was stronger, either as Ladybug or Marinette, when Adrien was next to her. He always gave her the support and encouragement that she needed. In the very beginning, seven years ago when she was first given her Miraculous, she would have given up being Ladybug if it weren’t for Chat’s encouragement. Marinette felt confident that no matter who they faced, whether it be Hawkmoth, Gabriel, Lila, or anyone else who stood in their way, as long as Marinette had Adrien to fight them with, she was going to be okay.

Marinette was brought out of her thoughts by Adrien, who had walked up right to her, and asked her to join him for a chat. Lila was fuming, and Marinette knew she was waiting to see what she would do. 

Marinette hesitated and before she could answer, Adrien had walked over to Lila and asked, “Would you like to join us too, Lila?”

Lila looked speechless only for a moment, before regaining her composure and responding, “Oh, I’d love to, Adrien, thank you.” Lila stood and made her way towards Adrien, and Marinette followed close behind, avoiding the other girls who were clearly trying to catch her attention.

Adrien led the three of them to a spot as far away from the gathered girls as possible. “How are you guys doing?” Adrien asked the two girls once they were all seated.

“I’m wonderful, Adrien,” Lila responded with a slight purr that almost made Marinette gag. Marinette just smiled and nodded, trying to look as though she wasn’t going to say anything.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you all night,” Adrien started, but Lila cut him off before he could continue.

“I’ve been waiting to talk with you too, Adrien,” Lila said smoothly, leaning in close and moving her hand up his arm. “Why don’t we go off somewhere just the two of us?”

Adrien cleared his throat before saying, “Actually I need to talk with both you and Marinette together.” Lila blanched and didn’t say anything, and Adrien jumped on the chance to talk. “I got the results of the voice analysis back from the movie date two weeks ago.” Lila paled, her eyes darted between Marinette and Adrien and Marinette made sure her expression was blank so she had nothing to read there.

“What did you find?” Marinette asked, sweetly.

Adrien shifted so he could see both girls at the same time. “Do you want to answer that question...” Adrien paused before finishing his question, just as Marinette had told him to. She knew the cameras would eat this up. “Lila?” he asked, turning fully towards the girl in question. 

Lila stilled, like an animal trapped in the corner before they try to escape. “I—I don’t know what you mean.” Lila stammered, trying to sound innocent. 

Adrien looked to the gathered producers and one of them walked towards the three of them and handed Adrien a manila folder. He unclasped the folder and slid out some paperwork. “These pages here contain the analysis of both of your voices as well as the conversation in the bathroom. It was determined that the voice that threatened the other was in fact, yours, Lila.” He handed the paperwork to Lila, and even from across the couch, Marinette could read that they had indeed identified Lila as the villain in this situation.

Lila didn’t say a word and Adrien continued, gently taking the papers out of her hands and slipping them back into their folder. “Lila, you lied to me, both at the movie set and at the evening portion of the date. I told you that I cannot stand liars. What possessed you to threaten Marinette, rip her dress, and slap yourself, I may never know. But, I would like to ask you to leave the show.” 

That seemed to snap Lila out of her daze. Her head snapped up and she had tears beginning to stream down her face. “Please, Adrien I am so sorry. I felt threatened by Marinette in that beautiful dress and I was just trying to get you to notice me. Please, don’t send me home. We have so much in our relationship that we can explore and I really see you and I making it far in this competition.” The tears were coming steadily now and her voice was getting louder and more hysterical. “Please, I’ll do anything. I’ll be nicer around the house and stop messing with Marinette, and do whatever you want, but please let me stay.” Lila glanced at Marinette, with what appeared to be genuine sorrow in her eyes, though Marinette had a feeling that whatever she was about to say was solely for the benefit of Adrien. “Maybe we could start again, on a clean slate. I bet we could be really great friends.” Lila’s eyes had a slight twinkle to them that Marinette recognized as a challenge. If Marinette turned down Lila, she would be seen as the mean one who pushed away a crying girl begging for friendship. Marinette didn’t really have a choice. 

“Of course, I’ll forgive you Lila,” Marinette said, choking on the words. She forced a smile on her face before reaching out and grabbing Lila’s hand. Lila grasped Marinette’s hand with her other one and Marinette saw Adrien glance between the two girls.

“Lila, I’ll make a deal with you. If you can improve your attitude and be nicer to everyone on set, not just to me and Marinette, and I can see the evidence at the cocktail party, I’ll let you stay.” Marinette felt her heart sink as Lila nodded aggressively and flung her arms around Adrien’s neck. That was not part of the plan, but very typical of Adrien. When the two broke apart and Adrien met Marinette’s eyes, she could feel the disbelief and slight betrayal portrayed in them. He paled slightly and mouthed “We’ll talk later,” before he was blocked by Lila standing up and facing Marinette.

Marinette stood up and offered Lila a hug, knowing full well that she would have to accept it. With her mouth covered by Lila’s hair, she whispered, “You don’t own me anymore and you don’t tell a single soul about what you saw that night, is that clear?” When they broke a part, Lila gave her a slight nod, even though there was a fire blazing in her eyes. She then walked back to the gathered group of girls, and Marinette made to follow, but was stopped by Adrien grabbing onto her hand and pulling her back.

“Thank you for always being honest with me, Marinette,” Adrien said, pulling her closer to him, an apology written on his face. Marinette sighed and let go of her frustration with Lila staying. Right now, Adrien needed a friend, not someone who questions his decisions. She could bring it up after the cocktail party later this week. 

“I like you too much and I’m falling for you too hard to ever disrespect you by lying to you.” Marinette said sweetly, very aware of Adrien’s lips and how close they were to hers. He slowly, agonizingly, closed the distance between them and gently kissed her. She melted under his touch and felt her heart swell. She wished she could shout it from the rooftops that she loved this man, but it wasn’t time yet, and she knew that. But it did make her heart skip a couple of beats knowing that not only did he know that she loved him, but he loved her too. 

They broke apart, and Adrien walked Marinette back to the gathered group of girls. He grabbed the group date rose as Marinette sat down next to Juliette, who whispered, “Talk later?” to which Marinette nodded. Adrien scanned the group of girls before his eyes settled on Marinette’s corner of the couch. 

“Juliette,” he said, and she blushed before standing to walk closer to him. “Will you accept this rose?” She gave him an enthusiastic “Yes!” before giving him a hug and sitting back down next to Marinette. Marinette reached over and squeezed her arm as Lucie did the same from the other side of her.

“Thank you so much ladies for a great day. I had a ton of fun with you all and I am looking forward to seeing you again at the cocktail party later this week.” He gave the group one of his dazzling smiles before Victoria stepped forward and rushed the girls out to the van that was waiting to take them all, Lila included, back to the mansion.

~~~

I do not own the rights to these akuma outfits. The akuma outfits were heavily based off of this amazing post I found on Tumblr! We absolutely adored the look and talent of these and thought they would be perfect for this chapter! We made Copy Cat’s outfit into Chat Noir’s and inverted Antibug (switched the black and red) to make Ladybug, but otherwise all of these ideas are hers! Randa’s descriptions aren’t as amazing as the actual artwork, so check out the original post and tell her how amazing she is! @thesleepypencil​

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[katherinemallory]

#5 Everyone’s got their own soft spot

Things have got quite complicated... If you want to know how, check it here: #1 #2 #3 #4

I kept shouting his name, but he ignored me. His silver Aston Martin DB10 has quickly disappeared. Great, I thought. I am soaking wet... And Bond seems to know my deepest, darkest secret. This is even worse than being out of active service.

I went up the stairs to my apartment. It turned out that I had difficulties with putting the key into the keyhole as my hands were shaking. I didn't know what I wanted to do, I didn't know anything, I was so overwhelmed. I just dreamed of taking a *really* long bath. A bath so long that it would take a week, and no one could disturb me... But before I took my wet clothes off, I searched my bag, looking for my phone. I checked on Amanda.

“Hello, this is Amanda Clarke speaking.”

It was the first time I've heard her real surname.

“Amanda, it's me, Katherine,” I uttered, feeling that my body was still shaking. Somehow I managed to keep my voice sweet. “It's good to hear you... Is everything alright? You didn't want to talk to me earlier.”

For a while there was no response.

“Yeah... I'm sorry, Kath,” she said like a person who doesn't have any hope left. “I'm really sorry I ruined everything.”

It was simply painful to hear that defeated tone.

“Hey, Amanda, you did ruin nothing. I asked how do *you* feel?”

There was a long moment of silence again.

“Honestly... I don't know anymore,” said Amanda, and then began to cry. “It was a-all my fault! I-I ruin-ned our mission and n-n-now... the whole se-e-ection is endange-e-red... it's-s... a nightmare,” she sobbed. “E-even M didn't spe-eak to me f-f-for long... H-he wa-anted me ou-ut of the-e office as soon a-as we e-e-entered...”

“Listen, it's not that,” I replied. “Surely he was angry, but believe me, not as angry as he could have been... I assume he just didn't expect us to get in trouble,” I kept wandering around my apartment, talking to Amanda as if I wanted to convince both her and myself that nothing serious has happened. “M will get over it soon. He knows the nature of our job. Just give him time,” I added in a single breath.

“T-t-thanks, Kath... it m-mea-ans a lot... and how-w are-e you...?”

I stopped in front of a mirror that was hanging on the wall next to my bedroom’s door. Hair: wet. Clothes: wet. Mood: would punch anyone who'd be standing near.

“Fine,” I sighed, “apart from the fact I just had an argument with Bond.”

“Wh-hat happene-ed??”

As soon as I realized what I've just confessed, I regretted it. From now on I had to be more cautious. No one could know the truth... or perhaps one person could, but definitely not one of the double-0s. And apart from that, Amanda’s got bigger problems on her mind than some pathetic life stories.

“Nevermind... You wouldn't believe me anyway... just some spy stuff.”

...

I took a long bath as I had planned, then changed into my pyjamas and went to bed. I felt like doing absolutely nothing, but there was one thing I couldn't take off my mind.

Despite being pretty angry at him, I tried to call Bond three times. And guess what, every single time my call went to voicemail. I quickly gave up and sent him a message instead:

James, I know you're upset, but we have to talk. I hope you’ll meet me when you're back... please take care of yourself.

KT

I looked at my phone once again (just to make sure that I have sent the message), and felt that my eyelids began to close...

...

I woke up early the next day, even though I did not set the alarm clock. Perfect, I thought just after I have woken up, I don’t have to hurry. It’s going to be a long day and I have plenty of time to prepare myself for it.

I looked at my phone to check if Bond has answered me. As there were still no new messages, I had only one option left: the smart-blood programme.

Hi Q, it’s Kath. Has James landed in Maldives already?

There was a response within a minute.

Hello Kath. I’m sorry, but I promised James that I’d not tell anyone except M. Hope you’ll have a good day.

I glanced over the message a couple of times in disbelief. Mr. Bond pretends not to care anymore... Bastard, I said to myself as I went to the bathroom.

The fact I got suspended from any field operations, didn't necessarily mean that I didn’t have to show up at the MI6 Headquarters - there was plenty of paper work, waiting there for me and Amanda... M didn’t give us any days off (unlike he did with other double-0s), and it felt like a punishment... A punishment we deserved without a doubt.

I wanted to look elegantly that day. Not only because I needed to improve my mood after recent events, but also because of my meeting with Eve. I always liked to dress-up for the meetings with my friends. I was really looking forward to our dinner, as I missed her dearly when I was in Switzerland. And, what is more, it was her whom I wanted to tell everything about my disagreement with Bond.

There was this gossip spreading in the double-0 section that Eve was head over heels in love with Bond, but I didn’t quite believe it. When we all met on my first day after promotion, I got an impression that from the whole double-0 section it was Bond himself who was most convinced of the rumours' genuineness. He assumed that Moneypenny had a huge crush on him, but Eve didn’t seem too worried about Bond taking me on a date. She didn’t try to interrupt him when he was talking to me, and, what is more, she didn’t even seem interested in our conversation. Maybe Eve was a good actress after all, but my instincts told me something weird was going on there.

I have chosen one of my least favourite suits - a bottle green one (I was never a big fan of that colour, but I guess I’ve changed my mind a bit after realizing *someone’s eyes* were green...) - and a white shirt. Simple, but not too classic. Ideal to make a statement, I thought as I took the last sip of my morning cup of Earl Grey.

...

Both me and Amanda were quite busy with all the paper work we had to do that morning, but we didn't complain. We obediently accepted the "punishment", even though it took its toll... After a few hours of intense work, I decided to take Eve for lunch as I had promised her the day before.

I went through the long corridor on the last floor that led to M’s office. It was a lovely, sunny morning and the walls were *radiant* because of the sunshine that was coming through the windows. Even the colour of the door at the end of the corridor appeared to be a bit more brighter that day.

When I came in, M was standing next to Moneypenny’s desk. He was holding a few pieces of paper, probably some important documents, and it looked like he was telling her a story. M stopped talking, and they both looked in my direction. Eve was a bit astonished, but Mallory smiled at me mildly, almost imperceptibly.

“Good morning, sir,” I said, feeling both uncomfortable and excited to have met Mallory unexpectedly. “Hi, Eve.”

“Morning, 002,” replied Mallory. “Did you come here to see me or Miss Moneypenny?”

His voice sounded warm and gentlemanly. I could tell he was in a good mood.

“I came to see Eve, sir. Forgive me, if I’m intruding, I can come back later...”

“No, it’s fine. Miss Moneypenny can take some time off,” he looked at her, and then at his watch. “It’s time for lunch after all.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Eve, then stood up and walked around her desk. "Hi, Katherine," she added, touching my right arm.

M gave us a glance and put his hand on the doorknob. He was just about to go inside his office.

“Oh, sir,” I said shyly, but loud enough for him to notice. “I actually wanted to ask you something...”

“Yes, 002?” he responded as he turned his head towards me.

Damn, today he’s more hot than ever, I thought. He was wearing a very dark (definitely not black) suit, and one of his blue shirts, but I couldn’t take my eyes off his hair. It looked a little different than usual as Mallory was standing in front of the room's window. The sunlight highlighted his receding hairline and made me focus on the colour of his hair. His magnetic green eyes were observing my face, while he was waiting to hear my question. It was a wonderful moment. I wanted it to last forever.

“Katherine, I’ll wait for you outside,” announced Eve and left us alone.

I followed her with my eyes and then looked directly at Mallory. So hot... if only I could... Damn, Kath! Stop it. Don’t forget that he is your supervisor. And you’ve got a question to ask.

“Sir... has 007 reported to you already? Has he landed in Maldives safely?”

Mallory raised his right eyebrow. The questions surprised him.

“No,” he said calmly, “not yet, but I’m sure he’ll do that soon.”

He glanced at me suspiciously.

“Are you really *that* worried about him?” he asked in his most kind manner, putting the documents on Eve’s desk. Then he leaned against the wall next to the door to his office.

“No, sir,” I lied. “But we had an argument yesterday and I wanted to make sure he’s alright.”

“And do you think I know if Bond’s alright better than the man himself? Try to contact him.”

“I tried many times, sir,” I blurted, “but he ignores me... it seems like he has disappeared...”

Mallory was still very polite, but acted indifferent.

“It’s the fate of glass to break... well maybe it’s the fate of spies to just disappear,” he said slowly.

“Perhaps, sir, but he was really furious...”

At first, Mallory seemed like he really tried to understand my point of view. But I was dead sure he wouldn’t agree with me. He looked through the window and sighed while I was still explaining my concerns. The light hit Mallory’s eyes. He interrupted me, sounding semi-friendly.

“002, please behave like a professional,” Mallory instructed me in his deep, dry voice, as he picked up the documents from the table. “Private business between you and Bond is not a concern of mine. Save your energy for your main objective for today. There's plenty of paper work to deal with.”

Harsh. He went from being understanding to uncompromising very quickly. I looked down and blushed.

"I promise we’ll get the work done, sir.”

I noticed him smile as I lifted up my face to meet his eyes.

“Bond will be fine. Don’t worry,” said Mallory dryly. “Is that all...?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“See you later then, 002. And please remember your lunch with Miss Moneypenny shouldn’t take longer than half an hour.”

...

I agreed to meet Eve outside the MI6 Headquarters, so I took the elevator and went the way down. I couldn’t stop to think about Mallory... I’ve been analyzing the way he spoke to me just a few minutes ago. He sent me a lot of mixed signals. At first he was so understanding, and then he just *had* to remind me of my professionalism... Clearly he wasn’t satisfied with some private stuff going on between me and Bond. And I don't blame M - I can’t imagine myself as the Head of MI6 who has to deal with some conflict, or worse - romance, between my two double-0s...

I went outside and saw Eve, who was wearing a checkered coat and looking more adorable than ever.

“I’m sorry, Eve, I just *had* to talk to M for a while,” I said, being ashamed of myself that I made her wait for me.

“Please, don’t apologize, Kath,” she replied as she took my arm. “Now I’ve got you all for myself. Let’s go!”

“Now we look like a proper couple!” I said, as I turned my head to her and we burst into laughter.

...

We didn’t have unlimited time for our dinner, so we stopped at an Italian restaurant just around the corner. We could have eaten together in one of the cafes in the MI6 building, but we didn’t want to. It was safer to go somewhere more private. Obviously, leaving the SIS building couldn’t guarantee not being eavesdropped by one of your colleagues, but without a doubt it reduced the probability.

“So, Eve, how are you?” I asked, just after we both ordered our meals. “How was the life in the MI6 recently? Tell me everything.”

“Oh, it was nothing special. All the fun has gone together with you!” Eve giggled. “I had a lot of paper work to do, as usual, because nearly the whole double-0 section was away... and Bond kept coming to me and repeatedly asked about your reports to M...” she rested her left hand on the table and placed her head on the hand. “Of course I didn’t inform him of anything. He was convinced that I was aware of the content of the reports, but it’s not true. All the reports always go directly to M. And M forbids me from reading them. I'm sure Bond knows that as a double-0...”

She paused for a moment when the waiter came to our table with her glass of still water.

“And M... he has been quite nervous since you and Amanda left for Geneva...”

She gave me a glance and took a sip from her glass.

“... I don't know why, but he has been kind of irritated all the time,” she continued, looking directly at me. “And it all culminated when the Chief of the Swiss intelligence informed him of the planned kidnapping. It seemed like he was very concerned about that mission. He reacted immediately..."

“Yeah, I noticed his immediate reaction," I laughed, looking at the table. "You probably shouldn’t be telling me that.”

“Yeah, I shouldn’t,” added Eve. “But when you work with him every day...” she hesitated, “... you get a bit tired. It's not because of him, but rather all the stuff that is always going on... It can be really stressful sometimes, and after a few intense weeks in a row you feel exhausted... I have *no idea* how M is still capable of leading this whole organization... those emotions can drive you *crazy* if you let them... at the end of the day you have to vent to someone.”

"I get it," I replied, scratching my right hand. "You can vent to me whenever you feel like venting. I wouldn't want you to go crazy."

"Thanks, Kath. It feels good to know someone cares for your own sanity.”

The waiter came again, this time bringing our dinner.

“Speaking of M,” I trembled, “there is something I *have* to tell you.”

"I'm all ears."

“I know that... we don’t know each other for long, but... you’re the only one I trust with this...”

And I told her *everything*. How I left the double-0 section meeting with Bond, how he confessed his feelings for me, and how he accused me of having a crush on M.

"So, what's your opinion on this?” I asked when I finished the story.

“It’s no big deal,” said Eve. “Everyone’s got their own soft spot.”

“I do not follow you.”

“Oh, Katherine,” she replied. “It’s obvious. You’re Bond’s soft spot. And... it seems like M’s yours.”

I looked her straight in the eye, but quickly moved my sight to the flowers in a little vase that was standing on our table. Eve continued to talk.

“Yeah, I remember exactly what you’ve told me *that* day: ‘I’m not interested in men at my age’... And the look on your face when you left his office... I could tell there was something more in your eyes than just the excitement before the mission. Something more... private,” said Eve, looking at my shocked face. “Then this Christmas present.... and Bond’s jealousy. It all fits together.”

She left me speechless for a while.

“I just... I just hope it’s not too obvious...”

“I have no idea, Kath. But perhaps Bond noticed your behaviour because he’s interested in you,” she speculated. “Do you think he really had his reasons to figure it all out?"

“I’m not sure... but probably yes,” I confessed with a worried look on my face. “I told him how M let me chose my double-0 number, how he reacted to the present... Do you think for Bond it was enough?”

“Judging by the way you stared at M earlier today, I think it might have been enough.”

“Hey, I wasn’t staring at him...”

Eve smirked and started to shake her head.

“Right...” I said. “Thanks for being honest with me, Eve.”

I felt really embarrassed.

“Do you think it’s wrong?” I asked, sounding pretty concerned about my romantic feelings.

“Wrong? There’s always some excitement associated with a love triangle!” quipped Eve.

“No, Eve... I’m serious,” I insisted, while looking at the other tables, making sure no one observed us. Even though we were at some random restaurant, I was scared that there might have been someone from the SIS. “Is... is it wrong that I fell for M?”

She smiled at me mildly.

“No. It’s not wrong,” she assured me. “But you'll have to be very careful with what you do about it. Anything you do right now might make things very much complicated.”

...

After the dinner we came back to the MI6 Headquarters, as we both had a lot to deal with. We said goodbye in the main corridor. Eve left for M’s office and I left for the paper work.

“Thanks so much for listening to me, Eve. I just... I just hope that talking about Bond didn’t bother you...”

“No, it’s perfectly fine. You were right to assume it’s just a stupid rumour.”

“It is?”

“Yeah,” said Eve. “It used to be true, but it’s not true anymore... I have to go, Kath. I’m already three minutes late and M’s going to kill me!” exclaimed Eve, and then gave me a hug. “And don’t worry much. We’ll come up with the solution.”

“Thank you, Eve. You’re the best,” I replied, as I placed my head on her shoulder and returned the hug. I closed my eyes for a moment.

“Miss Moneypenny,” said a male, stern voice, “would you mind coming back to work?”

I opened my eyes and saw Mallory who has just appeared in front of me out of nowhere.

“I’m s-s-sorry, sir... I’m coming,” said Eve quietly.

Mallory didn’t reply and they headed towards the elevator. I watched them until the elevator’s door have closed.

Eve’s such a great person, I thought. What a relief... I’ve told her everything and now I feel a lot better. But should I feel any better...? I’m in the middle of some stupid love triangle and there is nothing to be proud of. It’s not even a triangle since it’s only Bond who is interested in me.

How is it possible what whenever Bond leaves, I miss him dearly, but when he is close I can’t think of anyone else but Mallory? And when I see Mallory I can barely think straight?

Time to get back to work.

***

To be continued.