#i am sorry for all my followers getting a rome fic one day and a les mis fic the next

[lemurious]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Classical Greece and Rome History & Literature RPF, Ancient History RPF, Gallic Wars - Fandom Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Marcus Antonius | Mark Antony/Julius Caesar, Marcus Antonius | Mark Antony & Gaius Trebonius Characters: Marcus Antonius | Mark Antony, Julius Caesar, Gaius Trebonius Additional Tags: War, Gallic War, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Strategy, Death, hard choices, Battle of Avaricum, Battle of Alesia Series: Part 4 of The Tribunes Summary:

"Or would you rather spare Alesia now, and fight another ten Alesias next year? There are a few thousand outside the walls, now – how many tens of thousands would you have killed if the campaign goes on? How many of our own men? How far will you bleed the treasury before there are riots in the Forum, while we are cavorting here, going from one skirmish into another?"

here’s a bit of strategy and hard choices and antony and caesar (and extra trebonius!) for the collaborative series we’ve been working on with the wonderful @dreamsofarachne :)

[peeterparkr]

perennial;tom holland|twelve.

chapter twelve: petunias.

↳ flower meaning: resentment, and anger.

chapter summary: monologues of brokenhearts. 

pairing: tom holland x y/n

warnings: this hurts, mention of Cherry, of cheating.

word count: 8.2K

SOCIAL MEDIA BEFORE THE CHAPTER:

masterlist & profiles  

eleven: y/n’s birthday

previous chapter next chapter   perennial masterlist.

perfidy  ( series masterlist)

wanna be tagged?

Hi, I’m back, hope you like this, please give some feedback! It was a super hard chapter to write haha, but I like how it turned out also check out  the holiday fic! it’ll be super fluffy haha if you need a break from angst from this fic! so yes, please help me out because tags aren’t working well so yeS! 

Shoutout to @jambrosemc for helping me get out of my writers block for this one! 

Falling in love with your enemy means falling in love with someone who knows exactly how to hurt you, and falling in love with Tom meant knowing she’d take a long risk. 

But she had taken the risk, and she had said it before, how she’d have her heart broken by him again. 

But… 

Not this. 

There are different kinds of heartbreaks, the sudden ones and the ones forming for a long time. The kind of heartbreak when the quirks that you once loved make you fall out of love, or the kind of heartbreaks where the silence becomes too loud. When the days are too short and the nights too long. 

When y/n referred to having her heart broken by Tom, she meant exactly that, the one heartbreak that doesn’t hurt as much, the heartache that you’re calm with because you both know you gave your best. 

Not this. 

It was like a truck suddenly hitting her. 

Not this. 

Y/N hadn’t really acknowledged the Cherry thing. She had ignored it, saying it wasn’t real, at first, as if postponing the real heartbreak, but then she was seeing it right there in front of her. 

Everything had poofed. All the magic, all the good things. A glass was suddenly broken, and the pieces had pierced right through her very own heart. Besides the glass had broken and now there was no window hiding it, she could clearly see it. And though it had been just a matter of seconds, it had felt like a thousand years. 

This feeling was so familiar, going all over it again, as if this was that one very night at the club when that pink skirt had kissed Tom. 

The very night when she’d learned heartbreaks can be felt. And man, did it hurt, did it sting. 

A scene. She should make a scene. 

Because this had been the worst one yet. This one had hurt the most. She didn’t know how the hell she was standing right there, keeping her posture. 

Had her heart stopped? Is this what dying felt like? And it felt like there was no one else there, just her seeing them. No packed up club. No. No, there was nothing left to do. And that was it. She wanted to run away. 

And so she did, because really. Though y/n was selfish and stupid or whatever adjective they liked to use to describe her, she always, even if people didn’t notice, put people she loved before her, and so she knew that if she dared to make a scene, knowing who was at the club, it would be everywhere. 

But she was also selfish, and she didn’t want to be on every celebrity news site. So instead, she decided to remove herself from that one narrative. As dramatic as it could be, she decided to run off, hoping no one would see her. 

Tom did see her. And he tried to reach out for her. But she got lost through the crowd. Tom knew, Tom knew he had fucked up. 

It seemed like too many things had gone by in just merely a few seconds. Y/N hadn’t been the only one who had noticed the kiss, James had. 

But y/n didn’t know that. And although, she had wanted to scream, shout and yell at every single person in that room, she didn’t. 

She ran to the bathroom, first, to take a deep breath as she clung to the sink. She was shaking. 

How the hell had she ignored it long enough? And why had she? Ignoring it had only meant this would hurt more. 

She couldn’t breathe. 

Because, honestly, how could she? Was she supposed not to hurt? Honestly, what she wanted to do is curl up in the middle of the bathroom and cry. And cry. And cry. 

But she didn’t, y/n had been brave enough to walk out of the bathroom, and she saw Tom trying to look up through the crowd for her. She barely could hear a thing, not sure if it was the actual music playing or her trying to avoid the drama, but she didn’t hear anything, everything was busy. 

Little did y/n know there had been a chaos. She hadn’t herself made a scene, but Tom had. 

It’s fair to say, Tom had not been the one to kiss Cherry. He, however, should know that though one never asks for a kiss, we hint it. 

That had been the problem. 

But he hadn’t hinted at it. We must know that this was one big misunderstanding, that had been cooking up for a while now and just like that, the one teapot had sung, and it had exploded. 

There was a lot going on, y/n hadn’t noticed. Just the faint song playing in the background. 

Sam had stopped her. 

“y/n, are you okay?” He had seen the look on her face. 

“No,” had been her only answer. She really wasn’t. 

“What--?” 

“Ask your brother if he’s not too busy snogging Cherry,” y/n had snapped. 

“Che-?” Then Sam had been disappointed in his own brother. Because how could he? Why would he? 

Y/N had the same question. And she’d ran off Sam’s grip. He had understood. 

She had only walked outside, decisively. She hadn’t cried inside but the moment she had walked out, it felt like she was freed from the one chaos and off to the one she was feeling herself. 

Right inside, Sam had reached for his brother who was currently yelling at Cherry, asking her what in the bloody world was going on. With Timothée, who was asking him the same thing at Tom. And Emma, too. 

“What in the bloody world is fucking wrong with you?” Emma had yelled at Cherry. “It’s your cousin’s boyfriend! And You!” She had turned to Tom. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

“Was this your fucking bloody plan?” Tim said. “Were you actually not in love with her and you're doing Rome 2.0?!” 

“He didn’t do it!” James had yelled. Because James had been the only one who saw the scene. 

Tom hadn’t… He couldn’t talk. Tom knew it. Tom knew this time… This was it. 

James had seen the scene, a bit, Tom was dancing, and watching y/n. He had seem bothered but his eyes were on y/n, and only y/n, though, he hadn’t hesitated as Cherry had danced with him, he had played along. 

Cherry had told James something, minutes before going with Tom. 

“I am in love with him.” 

Though Tom had a lot to blame on that situation, James knew this wasn’t Tom per se. Because James over the course of this week had, although, hesitated on Tom, he knew that Tom was very in love with his sister. Problem was Tom sabotaged himself, and this seemed like the one sabotage he wouldn’t get out of. James had been unsure as to what she was supposed to answer to Cherry’s statement, he had only gone to the bar to get a drink, and assimilate, he had invited Cherry, but  James had lost track of where Cherry was, and as soon as James had found her, her lips were already on Tom. 

Tom had pushed her off right away, we must point that out. 

But then, James saw it, y/n had seen it. 

And he had tried to follow after y/n, but she had really easily got lost. The lights and music had been no help. 

But he knew his sister and after clearing it up to Emma, though he didn’t have to, that it had not been Tom, he had known where his sister was. 

And so he had ran out of the club, and  James had reached out for y/n, unsure of what to tell her. 

She had yelled at James, at Clark, but one knight in shining armor had come to her rescue. Harry. 

Not in the way she had expected him to, but Harry was going exactly through the same situation y/n was. Or maybe not, but he had decided he should leave. And so as he was hopping on to his uber, y/n decided to hop along with him as well, seeing Tom had just walked out of the bar. 

Harry, confused, only watched her. 

He couldn’t really help her, either, he was going through a heartbreak as well. So funny, the two friends had just witnessed the love of their lives kissing someone else. 

“I’m sorry,” y/n said. “I had to leave.” 

Harry didn’t know what had happened, luckily enough for him, and for Tom, he had not been aware of the big drama that was still going on at that club.  He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to ask, as y/n was trying to catch her breath. 

She was broken, as she hadn’t been before. Harry had seen every single stage of a sad y/n, but this was different. She was sobbing and weeping and mumbling unreasonably. 

Harry couldn’t soothe her sorrow. Because he had to have his own sorrow, he couldn’t help it. 

But y/n had let out one last sob before calming down. Silently. As if she had had one sudden last realization. 

“I’m… I’m sorry, where are you going?” Y/N asked. 

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know, something to eat, I just wanted to leave,” he admitted. 

“I’m sorry I… interrupted your escape.” 

“No, it’s okay,” Harry nodded. “I guess you needed to, as well.” 

“What happened to you?” 

“Emma kissed Josh,” Harry said. Y/N had widened her eyes and curled up close to him. “What happened to you? Did Tom and Tim fight?” 

Y/N stayed quiet. 

“Or…?” 

“Tom and Cherry kissed.” 

Harry felt his heart stopped as soon as he had listened to it. This… At least he wasn’t seeing Emma. Yes, it hurt, but he was not dating her. His own sorrow didn’t have reason but y/n’s? 

He hugged her close. 

“Wanna go for some fries?” He asked. 

“Yes.” 

They stayed quiet, but they hugged each other close, and both understood neither of them could give out any advice or whatever. 

They went to the diner. Harry knew that a feeling of familiarity would help y/n, and he knew that it would help him because it was the only place he could think of. 

Neither of them had said anything, and y/n had tried to clean up the smudge mascara and glitter on her face, now tracing the trails of her tears. 

She had asked for a milkshake and Harry had asked for a coffee, and she was wearing Harry’s jacket. 

The scene was painted clearly. Both of them were so heartbroken, but different kinds of ones. Both of them full of sadness and sorrow. 

“How are you feeling?” Harry asked. 

y/n looked up. “Empty.” 

And Harry knew this was the worst feeling of a heartbreak. Because Harry was sad, and feeling guilty. But feeling empty was the one thing that he knew y/n hated. Because usually y/n could easily say how she was feeling: ‘Sad’, ‘Angry’, ‘Disappointment’. 

Empty. 

She was feeling empty, and feeling empty gives us no inkling to fight, feeling empty gives us no reason to cry or yell. Feeling empty means giving up. 

Empty. 

“You?” She asked. 

“Sad,” he answered, as they’d brought them their fries. “Very sad.” 

Y/N nodded. “Emma doesn’t have feelings for him,” she assured him. “I know that.” 

“I know,” Harry said. “I know, but she did it to…” 

“Prove a point, yeah,” y/n said. “I know, that only makes it hurt more, doesn’t it?” 

Harry looked at y/n. “He doesn’t-” 

“I know, he did it to hurt me,” y/n answered,her voice had cracked. Her phone was ringing. It was James. She ignored it. 

Y/N didn’t know how to put it into words, actually. How to actually say what she was feeling. She was actually empty, but so full of emotions. She was enraged, she was sad, upset, disappointed and hurt, and just too much going on, but at the same time she didn’t want to do anything about it. Not cry. Not yell. Not anything. 

It felt the same way it had those years ago. Pink skirt. 

But this hurt more, because even when she had made mistakes herself, she knew she didn’t deserve this. 

Because she felt like she knew the ending to this, she wished she didn’t, but this felt so familiar. Y/N had died a little that night. It felt dark, like she had been on fire but all she was was ashes now. 

And there was that feeling that she didn’t want to waste more tears on him, she didn’t want to. She had become a ghost, Tom had killed her that night. Any hope. That was it, there was that feeling that she should fight but she couldn’t because there was no life left on her. Not at that moment. 

Tom hadn’t called her. 

“I’m sorry he did it,” Harry said. 

“I guess I…” She didn’t know. “I didn’t expect him to hurt me this time, and he did it, turning my worst fear into another nightmare I can’t wake up from.” 

Harry didn’t know what to say. 

“And I don’t want to cry.” 

“You do need to,” Harry said. 

“I won’t,” she admitted. 

They stayed there, quietly. Neither of them knowing what to say. 

“Want me to take you home?” 

“No, because Tim will be there, and I don’t want go to your place because-” 

“Tom will be there and at your aunt’s… yeah,” Harry finished her sentence. “Let’s go get a hotel room, then.” 

They did. And it was good for both of them. 

And she was expecting for the call. Staring at her phone, waiting for it. Tom. Please, please, please. 

He didn’t. 

And she didn’t have it in herself to call her, she didn’t have the strength or the power or anything. She was empty. 

Her worst enemy. He knew how to hurt her. 

Harry knew what this meant. Because Harry knew what was going on through her head. 

Tom had been the first one to put that fear on y/n when they were young, why would anyone want you, and then Louis had enforced it. Louis had said it to her ‘you’re replaceable, nothing special, that’s why everyone leaves.’ Just as Louis had found another girl. 

Then Tom had done the pink skirt show. And Tim, not knowing this, had also enforced it, right after y/n and Tim had broken up, Tim had found a rebound. 

And now this. 

This was y/n’s worst fear, and that’s why she felt so unbelievably broken, because of course Tom would do it again. Was this only just another way of Tom to ruin her? Were they still enemies or why was he doing this? 

Or was she truly replaceable? Boring. 

Harry wanted to know what was going on in her mind. She was lost in her memory, staring blankly at the elevator door as they went up to the hotel room. Harry wasn’t sure if he was supposed to stay. 

“Please, stay,” she had begged him. 

And he had, because he also needed company. 

She had only sat on the bed, staring at nothing, as if she was trying to understand the situation, figure out why, map everything out. 

Harry exhaled. Knowing that he too, had to let it out, and knowing that she would listen. 

He wanted to cheer her up, and he wanted to remind her of good times, get her head out of it, but he didn’t know how to get out himself. He wanted to calm her, comfort her, but he couldn’t. 

And he knew his heartbreak probably couldn’t compare to his but his guilt was always eating him. 

“Did he ever truly love me?” y/n asked. 

Harry didn’t know what to answer to that question, because he was wondering about it himself. How could anyone ever kiss someone if you’re in love with…

But then again, he had kissed y/n knowing he was deeply in love with Emma. 

“Yes,” he said. 

“Why did he sleep with her?” She asked, the emotion was building up. “I… why did he kiss her?” 

Harry shrugged. “I have no idea.” But he knew y/n wasn’t really looking for an answer. She was probably asking questions to herself. 

“Why did he do it” She asked now louder as she stood up. “Why did I-” And she was having difficulty to breath. “Why didn’t I see it coming? Why have I been ignoring it? Does he have feelings for her? Did he do it to hurt me again? Was it a prank? Is it a prank again? Is he… Is it like” She was yelling in between breaths, as she was shaking. “Is this… Is this all over again? Did he do it just to- What did I do wrong? What if he.. What if… I can’t… I don’t… Why is he doing this? Why hasn’t he called me? Will he… Will he come over again and say he never meant anything and it--- I was--- Did he--- Harry why did --- why did he do this?” She had spoken loudly, quickly and barely breathing, screaming but quietly, as if she was only externalizing every thought in her head, she had to sit down again, now tears blurring her sight. “Did… he ever truly love me?” She asked, quietly, as she sat down on the bed. “Why would-” She was inhaling and exhaling deeply. 

Harry hated seeing her like this so he only brought her close to him, holding her closely. She cried against his chest, and they had laid down, with him holding her. Knowing that this was what she needed, she couldn’t be left alone. 

“I’m sorry Harry, you’re brokenhearted-” She had said at one point as she had sat up. 

“It’s nothing like yours,” Harry admitted. 

She had walked around the room. “Why did I have to fall in love with him?” 

Harry didn’t say anything. 

“I wish I hadn’t,” she said. “Look at all the pain and now--” She bit her lip. “I guess, I have… This is on me-” 

“No, it’s not.” 

“No, it is, because I’ve been avoiding the whole Cherry thing,” she said. “I thought that by avoiding it, it would eventually fade away and disappear, and… I know I fucked up, but not even on my worst mistakes, no matter what I did, I didn’t deserve this,” she said. 

“No.” 

“And I’m....” She sighed. “He doesn't’ have feelings for her, does he?” 

“No.” 

She had opened up the frigobar, and gotten out a bottle of vodka and some m&m’s. 

“That’s what- He kissed her because he knew I’d be watching her, and he’s probably trying to get back at me for… dancing with Timmy? Is it that this time?” She sighed. “I don’t know what for he is getting back at me this time, and I can’t… Can you bloody believe that just 24 hours ago I thought… I… I thought I was strong enough to go through another heartbreak and look at me.” 

Harry watched her. 

“It hurt more than last time, I thought I… had gotten used to it but you can never get used to the love of your life hurting you,” she was too… sure of it. “And… I’m an idiot, and… I don’t know, I want to know what I did wrong this time, but… Here I am, wondering, and I know this isn’t me, this is Tom, and maybe I was so stupid and I havent’ seen it, maybe it was all a big hoax for him trying to hurt me again,” she scoffed. “like he did back after Rome, and here I thought he was… I don’t know, how stupid am I? This is on me, for giving myself to him completely, and now… I don’t want to… I just need an answer this time, I don’t need… I don’t need an apology, I just need an answer, I need to… I curse myself, for falling in love with him without taking any precautions,” she took a deep breath, as tears were slowly falling down her face. “And yes sure, I wrote a script and I… Wanted to get back at him, but I never did, you know? And I never would, for that matter, because... This is on me, this is my punishment for falling in love with my biggest enemy, with a memory. And maybe this is… what we were supposed to be since the very beginning, you know?” 

Harry only watched her as she sipped down the mini bottle. 

“I regret falling in love with him,” she stated. “And it’s… so hard, because how can… you ever regret the one person that at some point you were the happiest to?” she asked, not expecting an answer, she had walked to the window to see the night sky that was slowly yawning into the morning. “And… It… Harry it makes no sense, because when I… When I looked into his eyes, I saw…I saw the world,” she still sounded full of hope, but just as she said each word, the hope was fading away. “But now it seems like all of it was a lie, a dream and I can’t believe how quickly it ended and how easily all of that broke it’s like the universe is telling me that I’m… I’m the fool, and I didn’t… I didn’t ask for much, and I… I can’t believe I’m waiting for his call,and he’s not calling me, Harry, why isn’t he… “ She took a deep breath as she tried to suppress a sob. “Was this his plan all along? To break me so I’d end up getting drunk on a hotel bar?” She wondered. “Because it makes no sense Harry, I… just last night I thought I wanted to spend my whole life with him,” she shook her head, staring at the ground. “That he was the answer to all my problems but I guess…He was my problem,” she sighed. “I was always supposed to lose him, because he’s never been mine, has he?” She asked to the night.  Why would… why would he hurt me this way if not?” She was trying to figure out herself, blurting out every thought. “Why is he… Cant he see he is… was… everything to me? Can’t he understand that… I’ve…” She sat down beside Harry again and he only brushed her back. “And now I’m going through it, and it just makes no sense.” She let out a heavy breath. “And yes, I’ve done bad things, but this? Why did he have to fade away so quickly?” She looked up, hurt, her voice was breathy, and Harry had never heard her so broken. “And why is he not trying to apologize? And do I even want him to?” She stood up and ran a hand through her hair. “But god, I don’t want to go there again, I… This feels like that one time.” She hugged herself as she finally let out a quiet sob. “And now it slipped away, and it was so close, and it was so close, so…. Close… and did I not give him everything?” She licked her inner cheeks, taking a long pause, but Harry knew he wasn’t supposed to answer just yet.  “It is that? Was I not enough? Is it that?” 

Harry only stared at her, as he could see her mind being loud. She went quiet. But he knew that she had a million thoughts, like she always did. 

“Maybe it’s that, “ she nodded slowly. “Maybe I’m boring, Louis had said it, hadn’t he?” Y/N scoffed slowly. “But… I don’t know? Was I supposed to give more?” She sat down on the one chair in the room and then turned quieter. “For me it was enough, but he was… never mine.” 

Harry wondered if this was how Emma felt. Though he should be helping y/n, he had to wonder if this was how Emma felt. But they were different, y/n and Emma, but he guessed it was somehow similar. 

“And now he… he took everything from me, he just… I’ll…” She couldn’t continue. “Harry how am I supposed… What am I supposed to do now? And yes I know I made mistakes by not wanting to talk, but what use would it have been if he was going to break my heart anyway, and why hasn’t he called?” She asked again and started at her phone and closed her eyes. “ I.. I should put my phone back in normal mode, but I know… “ she mumbled. “What if he… What if he goes and sleep with her and doesn’t care?” She asked. “And… Or is he doing this because of Tim?” she groaned. “I don’t… love Tim,” she stated. “and I’ve known it for a long time, and, though I tried to convince myself I should I never… “ She closed her eyes again, shaking her head. “It’s always been Tom and now it doesn’t matter because all he does is break me and I didn’t want to believe that and he.. “ She checked her phone. “He hasn’t called or texted and… Was this on purpose?” She asked, and walked through the room. “And I tried to adjust myself to this and I didn’t want to talk about it, because I thought..” She raised her voice. “if I ignore it long enough it’ll fade, and we can build us a happy ending and it’ll be alright, just me and him and…” she sighed. “And now it’s long gone, Harry, it’s long gone and now it’s not… I don't know, and I… I've never done anything to hurt him, and what about Tom? why did he have to...At least… Did he even try this time? Or was it… It’s I can’t believe this.” She plopped on her bed. 

Harry plopped beside her. 

“Tom loves you,” Harry said, because he was sure of that. “I don’t… understand this, this doesn’t sound…” 

“Oh, no piss off, this is totally him.” 

“He always… I guess, he became the villain he was supposed to be,” Harry explained. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

“He just... “ Harry squeezed his eyes. “Look, he was always told that Tim was perfect, and he always ws the bad one, you know? And maybe he was told that long enough he became the villain.” 

“But he’s not a villain for me,” she said. “Not this time, and even when I was writing the script I always saw him and… Didn’t I love him?” She sat up. “ Didn’t I show him that he is…”Tears were streaming down, she cleaned them up. “Gosh, why am I even crying?” She asked herself. “I… I… I didn’t expect him to hurt me, though I said that to James, I was scared yes, but not… I don’t know, I didn’t feel like myself because I don’t know, and I was scared it would end but not like this, and you don’t-” 

“I don’t know, y/n he sabotages himself,” Harry explained, still on the bed, stealing the liquor from her hand and taking a sip. 

She plopped back beside him. “But why does he? Why...I don’t even understand this. I… I am done with this.” 

Harry turned to look at her. “Are you?” 

“I don’t know. Was he getting back at me for the script?” She groaned. “Was he… angry that the first person I slept with was Tim?” 

“I dunno, did he find out about you and Tim sleeping together?” He asked. 

She shook her head. “Even if he did, that gives him no right to it. I .I can’t. “ 

“I know it doesn’t but this is Tom,” Harry stated matter-of-factly. 

“That’s my point,” y/n took a deep breath. “Why is he like this? Why is he like that Harry?” she whined. “Why does he feel like even if I slept with TIm it gives him the right to hurt me? Why does he… He knows he fucking owns my heart then why the hell does she do that? “ she frowned. And then crushed the m&m’s. “He fucking decides to rip it off and crush it.” 

“I wanted m&m’s.” 

“Why can’t he… I didn’t… I didn’t sleep with Tim to hurt him, I slept with Tim to not feel like shit, because when I saw him… when I saw that picture with Cherry, he kissed her cheek like he used to kiss mine and I just…”She sighed. “I… what if... Maybe he does have feelings for Cherry and I don’t-

“He doesn’t.” 

“The eyes he gave her-”

“They’re not the same eyes he gives to you, y/n,” Harry said. Though he really didn’t want to defend his brother, and though this was so shitty of his brother, something didn’t sit right with him. 

“No, I don’t know,” y/n said. 

 Harry bit his lip. “I look...I don’t know, but, Tom is stupid okay and I don’t know why he would do this but I can assure you he doesn’t have any feelings for her.” 

“Why is he doing this?” She asked. “because look, Emma?” she turned to him, and Harry turned to her to. “Emma did this because she wants your attention, she fucking wants to convice herself that she is supposed to be angry and she is doing this because she… I don’t know, because this is herself trying to tell you she’s better off without you, or that she wants you to fight for her, or-” 

“Yes I know, she did this to show me how it feels,” Harry nodded. 

“But Tom? Why the fuck is he doing that?” she grabbed a pillow and hugged it.  “I never know why he does this? Even when we were young he used to do stuff that will always have me second guessing and now this?.” 

“I wish I knew.” 

Y/N shook her head. “And I love him. After all of this, I love him, “ she sounded tired. “But I—I won’t. This is why this hurts too much, this is why I regret falling in love with him so deeply because it wouldn’t have mattered. And I know I hurt him but he doesn’t know how I’ve felt, he doesn’t even—And fucking cherry, I’m her bloody cousin, why did she do that? And--- didn’t Tom say he didn’t want to fuck up this time? I had already dried my tears, and he said he wouldn’t fuck up, didn’t he?” 

“He did.” 

She sat up again. “Then why did he?” she was sad again. “All I asked was to be loved, and all I ever wanted was to feel loved, and not get into this darkness and I thought I didn’t have to fear him and.. He was so…” she was turning quiet. “warm and calm, and I was free, you know?” she sighed heavily. “I just wanted him to love me, that’s it, I didn't ask for anything else, to love me every single moment you know? I just wanted to... “She was crying. “I don’t know, and I thought he would. And I’m an idiot because I knew I’d need him until my last breath, but I can’t… believe he decided to murder me tonight.” She hugged her knees. “He assured me he wouldn’t want to hurt me this time, he said it, that my fears should be left  behind me, and then why did he… use them as a weapon? Was it still a war? And… I don’t want to be lonely again. But everytime he breaks my heart I get lonelier.” 

“You’re not lonely, though,” Harry said. 

“I feel like it.” 

“I don’t… know what to tell you,” Harry admitted. 

“That’s a first,” y/n sighed. “You’ve always known.” 

Harry bit his lip. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t even let you…” She looked at him. “How do you feel?” 

Harry shrugged. “Dunno, I feel like I’m… I deserve it you know, and I mean I’m-” 

“You don’t, nobody deserves pain coming their way,” she said. 

“Yet, we’re both here,” Harry took a deep breath. “And I know she’s always going to blame me for it. Maybe that’s why we both-” 

“Why you’ve been avoiding me, yes,” y/n said. “And… Why I’ve been avoiding you as well.” 

“We didn’t need to add more drama did we?” Harry scoffed. “Us hanging out would just-” 

“Yeah,” she sighed. “But… does it matter?” 

“Guess it doesn’t,” he sighed. “I’ve missed you.” 

“I’ve missed you, too, honestly,” she said. 

“And okay, this is going to sound- but it’s not meant to sound this way, but I hate you for falling in love with my brother because of all people...him?” 

“Shut up.” 

“Like, I don’t mean it in…” He sighed. “I wish I could give you advice but-” 

“But you’re also loyal to him,” she sighed. “You can’t truly be on my side. “ 

“Oh, I am on your side,” Harry clicked his tongue. “I don’t understand why he is doing this,” he admitted. “I don’t… get it.” 

“Don’t get it either,” y/n sighed. “And he hasn’t called. 

“Think he will?” 

“Hope he will,” she said. “Or maybe not,” she sighed. “Maybe not.” 

“He… texted me,” Harry admitted. 

Y/N looked at him. 

“He asked if I was with you and if you were safe,” Harry asked. 

“That’s it?” 

Harry nodded and showed her the text. Nothing else. Y/N sighed. 

“Want me to ask him anything?” He offered. 

She did, for that matter. What the hell was wrong with him? For starters. “No,” she answered instead. 

“No?” 

She shook her head. “No.” Because, if he hadn’t asked, then it didn’t bother him. Why hadn’t he asked how she was doing or… Or, honestly why had-- No, of course he wouldn’t. No, because asking it on text… no. But why hadn’t he asked where they were? 

Why hadn’t he come with yellow flowers? Or would he—the next day? And say it was all a prank? 

“Emma texted me too,” y/n confessed. “Only asked if I was okay.” 

“And what did you answer?” 

“That I wasn’t.” 

Neither of them had really acknowledged it. But eventually, they had fallen asleep, holding each other. In the most innocent way they could, just two best friends broken-hearted who didn’t know how to heal each other.

Eventually the both woke up, with not a tinge of guilt. Though maybe they should’ve.  But they didn’t. Y/N had barely slept if she was honest, she kept waking over and over and checking her phone to see if he dared to call her. 

Tom hadn’t called her. 

At some point they both had woken up, y/n had explained a lot about what had gone before New York, after New York. Here in LA, before Tom arrived and how it had gone now he had. And things after Rome, before Rome. 

Harry had talked about how his feelings had gone through with her, how eventually he had realized that he didn’t love her the way he had thought he had, or maybe he had. And how at some points he did still feel bitter about them not being able to be together. How his life had changed, and how much he had missed her, how he had seen her face at places where they used to have fun in. But how his mind came back to Emma. 

How he understood that love wasn’t something easy to comprehend. And that at some point he did wish it had been y/n, because it would’ve been fun, and easier, not the mess they were both going with. 

How Harry’s dreams had changed, he still wanted to go on adventures but they didn’t make any sense if Emma was there. And how he wished he could continue with more movies, but how he knew that their very best projects, they’d both, Harry and y/n, built together would never see the light. But how fun could it be? 

He did wonder how things would be different had they done something, but both of them realizing they wouldn’t have worked out, because they… just were too similar or knew too much, and knowing too much leads us to one’s doom. 

And they talked on how maybe with each other it would have been fun, and easy, but they simply weren’t meant to be. 

Harry talked about Emma, how she was the one he smiled with, remembering those pair of high heels she loved to wear, and that lipstick she loved. But how stupid he was because he’s young, and how y/n was right and he shouldn’t have proposed that soon, but how couldn’t he? He knew it, Emma and Harry were meant to be. But now he blew it because after chasing the wrong one, he’d lost the right one. However, Harry knew that Emma and Harry were meant to cross paths again. 

And Harry talked about how Emma was the one person who’d loved him no matter what, flaws and all, and how it felt like a kiss in the middle of the forest, but with a summer breeze. Daylight. 

How he missed daylight. 

He hadn’t had any since Emma was gone. 

Y/N listened, and wished someone could ever talk about her some day. And it hurt y/n, just a little. Because she had said it: probably the only one who did was Tim. Because she knew Tom didn’t. Or she didn’t believe it at that point. 

And then y/n explained how Tim had lied, or suppressed a truth. How she felt she’d used Tim, but how she was inexplicably drawn to him. But she guessed it was because she didn’t feel replaceable with him. 

The sun had finally peaked through the room, and Harry and y/n didn’t want to go anywhere, but Harry had offered to go to her place and get her some clothes, and y/n had agreed. She wasn’t fond of the clothes she had been wearing the night before and now her face was still covered on the smudge makeup. Honestly her face was probably a representation of her own feelings. Dirty and messy and unfixable. She didn’t want to go back into her place because she didn’t want to run into Timmy, and she knew she would. And she really didn’t want to. Because honestly, her heart was not in the mood and she knew how it would go, Timmy saying that he told her so, that Tom was this and that. And Timmy would take her vulnerability and she would give in because he doesn’t make her feel like shit and that’s what she didn’t want. 

Right now, even though this was all wrong, she did want to feel like shit so it could all boil up. And she didn’t want to hear Tim go over and over on how Tom was shit. 

And yes he probably was but this. This was y/n not wanting to accept it, she needed to boil it up.

Harry had gone to y/n’s place, and y/n had painted Harry the picture, that probably Timothee would be there waiting up for her, she had said it:

“He’ll have fresh coffee and will be cooking breakfast waiting for me to arrive so he is the one to comfort me.” 

Harry had never seen y/n like this, so knowingly. He had underestimated her, y/n was very aware of many things, and one of those things was Timothee, of course she knew that Tim would climb and move mountains for her, and she liked it because who doesn’t like being treated like an angel? 

And y/n had been right, Tim did have fresh coffee when Harry had knocked on the door. Not breakfast, but Tim did have a cup for himself. 

“Oh, Harry?” Tim had said with surprise. 

“Did you really expect y/n?” Harry snapped harshly. 

“I-well, no, honestly, thought you’d be Tom searching for her,” he admitted. “I… Is she okay?” 

Harry didn’t like Timothée at that point. Because Harry didn’t know why but he felt like Tim had a lot to do with the events from the night before. Because after what he’d heard y/n say, Harry thought that Tim was probably ruthless and would do anything for y/n. 

Harry didn’t know what answer to give to Timothee, because Tim was the enemy here, Harry knew. “She’s fine,” that’s what Harry had gone with. 

“Oh.” 

“I came to pick up her clothes,” Harry said. “I think-” 

“She told me,” Emma had said, popping from her room. Harry had tried to avoid seeing inside, fearful that Josh would be there. He wasn’t. “Now come here, before you see the big mess waiting to happen.”

Harry glanced at Tim before following Emma into y/n’s room, he’d seen a pillow and a blanket on the couch. Emma took out some clothes, and then went to the bathroom, picked up her toothbrush, and packed it up all quietly for Harry. 

Emma handed it over, “So you run to y/n?” She asked. 

“I’m not-” 

“You are, Harry, you chose her over-” 

“I’m not choosing her over you,” Harry snapped. “I’m just---” 

“You just what Harry?” 

“What do you expect me to do?” Harry said. “You have you friend here, Tim,” he pushed. “She needs a friend and a friend who actually-” 

“Who is in love with-” 

Harry almost dropped the bag. “Look Emma I know I fucked up,” he said. “I was confused because I did have a crush on her and I mixed my feelings and I still love her and she’s my best friend but I realized that I never felt the way with her I felt about you, you were—are my everything,” he said. “You really are the only one I want, and you’re the onand I feel so stupid for letting you go, and I feel so stupid for breaking your heart and I’m dying because I don’t know what happened, I don’t know how to bloody talk to you anymore, I’m---”He sighed. “Because you simply push me away and you just don’t—I know I did something bad alright? I know I was the one to—be wrong but I didn’t plan on it, I was so happy with you, you were the only fucking star on ym sky, okay? … you’re you’re … I know you feel like I want her and I know it, but Emma! we were engaged and I’m sure we were so happy and I curse both Tom and y/n because they didn’t talk and they didn’t solve it and look where it’s led them!” He snapped. “I… meanwhile I’ve tried to talk to you because I want something with you that will last, I want us to be transparent and I want you to be happy but if you’re happy with someone else I get it, and if you only kissed him to make me feel the way you feel I get it, I did something utterly wrong but I’m—I am just—confused because this is not you, or maybe I’m wrong and this is the most you you can be,” he sighed. “And I don’t know, you just want me out of your life or… I don’t-” 

“I didn’t want you to be out of my life,” she said. 

“I know, and I didn’t want to be either, but you’re really keeping me out and I get it, I’m sorry, you don’t understand how sorry I was, and I’ll regret it my whole life because I decided to let go of the one, but I was confused very confused, , and you’re just watching me as if I was a stranger, Emma, and I know I get no other chance but you don’t even listen to me, I don’t love her like you think I do, and I am  I don’t know I feel like a stranger, to you, to y/n, and I—don’t like that.” Harry said. “And I get it, you were hurt and I will never stop blaming myself for it…. And I know I’ve been absent, but I—don’t know how to approach you, but I love you so, so much—you’re incredible Emma, you are this amazing person who doesn’t give a flying fuck about what everyone has to say, and that’s what I love about you among another million reasons, and you’re literally the only person that I want to share my happiness with and I want to build plans and chase dreams with but…. I—yes right now I’m gonna take care of y/n, because last night… She broke completely, okay? And… just like when… our engagement party, and Tim was there for you, and you are strong, I know it gives me no excuse but… I’m not doing this because-She’s my best friend, and I’m just trying to help her but I—I can't see her as anything but as a best friend and as the girl my brother is deeply in love with, and as the girl whose heart was absolutely shattered last night.” 

Emma didn’t say anything.

“I really want to fix things with you,” he added. “And if you give me the chance, I’ll prove to you how much you mean to me, and if… If you if you think… If you want me to stay right now and not go, fine, I’ll do that. Because you’re my everything, Emma.” 

Emma  only nodded and handed him her plush frog, too. “She’s gonna need it,” she said. 

“But can we talk, later?” 

“Yes, now go, she needs you.” 

With that Harry had a blessing to go, but when he had come back to the hotel room, he hadn’t found y/n. 

Because y/n, as soon as Harry had left, she had left herself. Y/N had had time with herself, and the rage had boiled up, and sometimes rage is confused with bravery, and stupidity. 

She’d gone to the flower shop, first. Aunt Eliza was behind the counter. 

“Y/N, dear, what happened to you?” 

“Didn’t Cherry tell you?” Y/N snapped, and then took a deep breath, knowing this was not to blame on her. “Sorry-I-”

“No, she didn’t come back home last night.” 

And there it was again. That feeling. The tears. No, no, had this come to her worst nightmare again? 

“She didn’t?” y/n just had to make sure. 

“No,” Eliza said. “What happened?” 

Y/N didn’t have the heart to tell her aunt, but she did anyway. “Your daughter kissed Tom.” 

Eliza watched y/n as if she understood her state now, as if suddenly it all made sense. “I’m--sorry.” 

“And she slept with him before she came here, yeah,” she added. “So-Yeah, I’m not exactly fond of her right now, I’m sorry,” y/n said. 

“I... Don’t know what-” 

“This ain’t your fault, no need to worry.” 

“I didn’t raise-” 

“I know, I know, look, I just… need some flowers, alright? I… these ones, I’ll take them, you can take them off from my salary-” 

“No, no, take them, whichever you want, y/n dear I’m sorry sorry-” 

“No, really, it’s okay,”  y/n interrupted as she took a bouquet of mostly yellow flowers. It was pretty enough, but it didn’t matter, in all honesty. 

And she left without giving any other explanation, probably the uber thought she was mental but y/n couldn’t care any less. She didn’t care that she was crying in the back of the car of an uber, because Tom still hadn’t called her and she had some idea why. How dare he? 

And it hurt even more, and she felt emptier, but now she was also full of it. 

Y/N had shown up to that place Tom had rented. And though she looked deplorable she didn’t even care because he had to see this, her state, this is what he’d done to her. And she had the right to make a scene. 

He hadn’t been the one to open the door, for her own surprise, it had been James. 

“y/N! Oh, you’re- Harry told me you’d be at a hotel-” 

“Where the fuck is he?” Y/N snapped. 

James backed away, knowing so damn well he shouldn’t mess with his sister. 

“He’s in the shower,” he said. “I think he-” 

“Fine,” y/n walked past her brother and started to make her way to the shower. 

“Wait, wait, y/n, want to wait for him?” James suggested. 

“No,” y/n snapped. 

“He had a really bad night-” 

“Oh,” Y/n stopped. “Did he now? Oh, what a shame I had such a fucking wonderful night!” 

James took a deep breath and took his sister’s shoulders. ��Y/N, it’s-” 

“I don’t care James-are you on his fucking side? Is she here-?” 

“What?” 

“You know what I want to hear from him,” she stormed off, and James followed after. 

“Y/N don’t you want to wait until-” 

“I’ve seen his fucking dick James, I don’t bloody care!” She snapped, before running into the bathroom. Knowing damn well she was taking a risk of seeing someone she didn’t want to. 

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[lostcauses-noregrets]

Hi Lost! I admire your work a lot, both here and on Ao3. As a writer myself, I was wondering if you have any recommendations for writing longer AU fics (like HMS Maria, one of my favorites) I’d love to try writing an Eruri fic set in Ancient Rome but I have no idea where to start. I tried writing a fantasy AU once and it got too overwhelming so I abandoned it. Sorry this is kind of a lot, just wondering if you have any research/planning tips! Thank you so much!

Hi @greenflower21 thank you so much! I’m glad you enjoy my writing, particularly HMS Maria, it’s a bit of a niche AU so I'm always delighted to know that readers enjoy it.

I’m not sure I’m really the best person to be giving advice on writing longer fics though because I am the absolute definition of a Pantser – I write by the seat of my pants, without outlines or timelines, and often I have only the vaguest idea of plot. Usually I have a very rough idea of how I want a fic to progress, but I have to start writing to find out where the story is actually going to go. This is a bit of a high risk writing strategy, as it’s very easy to wander off track, get bogged down, or write yourself into a corner. There’s also a danger that your timeline will disintegrate as you’re writing. HMS Maria is a case in point. I knew the rough direction the story would take, and there were certain incidents I wanted to occur at particular points, but I had no idea what was going to happen on route from A to B. This also meant I had absolutely no idea how long the story was going to be, and typically it turned out to be much longer than I’d originally planned, which is a real danger with this style of writing. However I never lost sight of where the story was going and I hope I managed to retain its internal consistency. The timeline is a disaster though, if you poke it too hard the whole story will fall over. I knew the fic would end with the Peace of Amiens in 1802, but because I didn’t know how long it would take to get there, the internal timeline probably doesn’t bear scrutiny. Now I’ve finished the fic I need to go back and tweak the dates to make sure the timeline hangs together.

The opposite approach to Pantsing is Plotting, where you plan every detail of your story before you start writing. Sometimes this involves spreadsheets. Plotting is a much more sensible way to write longer stories, as this approach will give you a clear road map and timeline to follow, however there’s a risk that you might lose some of the spontaneity of writing and there’s also a chance that by the time you’re written your plot outline, you’ll have lost interest in your story. HMS Maria is the only fic that I’ve ever attempted to write an outline for. This is it in its entirety:

Rose. Levi.

Articles of War. A flogging. A second flogging.

Isabel overboard.

Water party

Shore leave

Cutting out.

Prize. Return to England. Levi’s commission.

Off to the Indies. Peace of Amiens

Erwin’s house

Yeah. Not very helpful XD

I don’t think one approach to writing is necessarily better than the other, it’s just a case of experimenting with both approaches to figure out what works for you. Also if you google Pantser vs Plotter you’ll find loads of useful writing advice.

When it comes to writing historical fic, my advice would be to immerse yourself in the period as much as possible. Read everything you can get your hands on; fic, novels, history books, articles. If you can get ahold of contemporary sources, read those too, they’re invaluable and will give you a real feeling for the period. I knew nothing about the late 18th century, sailing or the Royal Navy when I started writing Age of Sail fic ten years ago, but I started learning from fanfic, before moving on to novels, history books and contemporary sources. (Melville’s White-Jacket is almost like a primer for writing Age of Sail fic.).

Writing period typical dialogue can be tricky as a lot of it will be jarring, obscure or incomprehensible to modern readers. Ideally you want to include enough period expressions and turns of phrase to give a flavor of the historic setting, without making the story difficult to read. In HMS Maria, Erwin speaks a bit more formally than he does in canon or in most modern AUs, while Levi is pretty much just Levi, though I did temper some of his more modern profanities.

Some readers and writers of historical fics get a bit up their own ass about anachronisms. Personally speaking, I think it’s a question of balance. I can forgive some creative anachronism if it serves the plot and doesn’t throw me out of the story, because ultimately the story is the most important thing. I’ve come across some writers who get so hung up on period details that they forget to tell a compelling story. At the end of the day, if I want historical authenticity I can just go and read a history book. If I’m reading a fic, I want plot and character development and slow burn and enemies to friends to lovers, and ohmygod there was only one bed. Basically all the good stuff, and if you can throw in a bit of authentic period detail along the way, then that hits the sweet spot for me

I have no idea if any of this is of any help, but ultimately I think the best advice when it comes to writing is to keep trying until you figure out what works for you, and don’t be discouraged if some stories don’t go in the direction you originally intended. Good luck with your writing!

[flufflepuffle296]

Heathers au: Beautiful Songfic

This is more centred around Veronica/Marinette so not really any mentions of Heather/Heather/Heather. Sorry if someone’s done this before I apologise I just got into Heathers like two days ago. Also I changed some lyrics and took others out to make it more “realistic”. Sorry I suck at endings, it’s 5:30am rn and this is my first fic so be nice please! (I’m on mobile so I can’t add the keep reading tag so sorry if you don’t like this) xxx

I brushed down my dress: I couldn’t give them anything to criticise me over. Everything had to be perfect. I had to be perfect. Chloé sat next to me, my beautiful fiancée, slipping on her kitten heels. She may be 3 months pregnant but no Bourgeois woman would be seen wearing flats. I was in a red floor length a line dress — I grew out of my childish pink years ago, before it even went out of fashion! My hair was twisted into two plaits that were knotted together into a stylish bun at the back. Chloé meanwhile had stuck to her white and gold aesthetic, currently in a slim fitting white dress, showing off her small baby bump, decorated with gold jewellery. I rummaged through my drawers, trying to find a lipstick, when a thin book toppled out. I picked it up, and laughed fondly when I saw what it was.

My old Collège and Lycée diary.

I flipped through it, landing on the page that stuck most clearly in my mind. It was the day my class reminded me of my current reality at that time, shocking me out of a bubble that had surrounded me during the summer holidays that year.

September 1st, 1989.

Dear Diary: I believe I'm a good person. You know, I think that there's good in everyone, but—here we are! First day of senior year!

And uh... I look around at these kids that I've known all my life and I ask myself—what happened?

I bit my lip. What happened? I knew darn well what happened. Lila Rossi. She came in, flaunting her friendships and connections, a new disability every other week to cry about, another rumour about me coming out every 3 days.

Alya ended our friendship, Adrien continued to cry about Lila’s feelings. Lila just kept doing what she did best. The class gave up on changing my mind and instead decided that calling me names would be better. Because logic?!

“Freak!” “Slut!” “Burnout!” “Bug-eyes!” “Poser!” “Lard-ass!” Were the insults they liked to yell daily. Yeah, they weren’t the most creative...

We were so tiny, happy and shiny. Playing tag and getting chased. Singing and clapping, laughing and napping. Baking cookies, eating paste.

Nino and Kim used to come over to the bakery when we were kids, where we’d gorge ourselves on sweets, before celebrating our sugar rushes by chasing each other in the park and then crashing on my sofa, cuddled in blankets and laying on top of each other.

Then we got bigger, that was the trigger. Like the Huns invading Rome. Welcome to my school, this ain't no high school: This is the Thunderdome. Hold your breath and count the days, we're graduating soon. College will be paradise, if I'm not dead by June!

But I know, I know, life can be beautiful. I pray, I pray for a better way. If we changed back then, we could change again. We can be beautiful...Just not today.

I scoffed at my optimism back then. Them changing? They never did, I don’t know why I bothered trying at that point. I should’ve moved on but hey! We all make mistakes. It’s just that sometimes you make 11 friendships worth of mistakes.

“Freak!” “Slut!” “Cripple!” “Homo!” “Homo!” “Homo!”

I cringed as I read their old “insults”. They would write homophobic messages across my locker, getting Alix to spray paint a few slurs across my work after I came out as bisexual.

Things will get better soon as my letter comes from Harvard, Duke, or Brown. Wake from this coma, take my diploma. Then I can blow this town. Dream of ivy-covered walls, no smoky French cafés. Fight the urge to strike a match and set this dump ablaze!

I had purposefully sent out applications to universities far away from these people, from Paris. All three schools accepted me, something I can’t say about my classmates, most of whom were rejected for essays on false information (sourced by Lila) and a quick scan over the Ladyblog meant not a single newspaper would even consider my ex-best friend. Gabriel Agreste, as I later found out through my internship in America, had to bribe several schools with double tuition to get even one to accept Adrien, after he got exposed as sexual harasser and disgraced hero “Chat Noir”. I turned back to my diary, having to peel off rock hard gum from the page that someone had smeared in “revenge”.

Le Chiên Kim. Third year as linebacker and eighth year of smacking lunch trays and being a huge dick.

“What did you say to me, skank?” He would yell, his fist raised in the hallway.

“Aah, nothing!” I then cowered. I may be Ladybug, but he was 150lbs of pure rage. No one can compete with that!

But I know, I know... Life can be beautiful. I pray, I pray, For a better way. We can be beautiful...

“Marinette! Wide load! Honnnnnk!”

He was the smartest guy on the football team. Which is kind of like being the tallest dwarf.

“Hey! Pick that up! Right now!”

“I’m sorry, are you actually talking to me?” He used to snarl, his hands covered in sauce from knocking my tray.

I stood my ground, I had been practising for this moment. “Yes, I am. I wanna know what gives you the right to pick on me. You're a high school has-been waiting to happen. A future gas station attendant.”

Kim then smirked, crouching down to eye level and pressing a finger to my forehead. “You have a zit right there...” he pointed out, causing the cafeteria to laugh at my expense.

I used to ask myself “Why... Why do they hate me?”

And hear Adrien whisper “Why don't I fight back?”

Watch as Max Googled “Why do I act like such a creep?”

Listen in on Lila stamping her feet in the bathroom asking “Why won't he date me?” Clearly frustrated.

Kim panicking as he wondered “Why did I hit him?”

And Chloé sob down the phone “Why do I cry myself to sleep?”

I would stay up late, screaming, begging. At my lowest points I would cry out “Somebody hug me! Somebody fix me! Somebody save me! Send me a sign, God! Give me some hope, here! Something to live for!”

I remember when I first met my real friends. The famed trio had gone into the bathroom and I followed after them, clearly my throat.

“Who are you?”

“Uh... Marinette Dupain Cheng. I crave a boon”

“What boon?” Chloé asked, filing her nails.

“Um. Let me sit at your table, at lunch. If our class think that you guys tolerate me, then they'll leave me alone...”

Chloé threw her nail file out and began circling around me, running her hands through my hair, commenting that “For a greasy little nobody, you do have good bone structure!” Before coming to a conclusion.

“And ya know, ya know, ya know? This could be beautiful. Mascara, maybe some lip gloss, and we're on our way. Get this girl some blush; and Kagami, I need your brush. Let's make her beautiful.” Sabrina and Kagami, chimed in, echoing her words.

“Let's make her beautiful...”

“Let’s make her beautiful...”

“Make her beautiful...Okay?” Chloé ordered, dragging me out with Kagami and Sabrina, driving me to her hotel. They sat me down, taking my hair out of its bunches and brushing it out. Kagami painted my nails a deep navy with surprising precision, manning my cuticles. Sabrina twirled my hair into a high bun, leaving a few pieces at the front to frame my face. Chloé came back from her wardrobe, throwing a blue blazer and grey skirt at me. I changed into my outfit for them, to which they clapped their hands in glee. They dragged me back to school, taking in everyone’s reactions to the new and improved me. This became my new daily outfit for the rest of the year — the class couldn’t find anything bad about it, and even if they did Chloé would threaten them with her father’s power.

I was happy with my squad. Kagami taught us Japanese and Chloé taught us American English that she’d picked up from her mother. I taught them self defence, under the guise of learning it from my mum, unknowingly training them for the day I would rip Chat Noir’s miraculous from him, before slamming it into Kagami’s palm. I needed help that day, so thrust them bee and the fox miraculous at Chloé and Sabrina respectively. They became permanent heroes, Kagami under the name “Noirette”, Chloé under the new guise of “Buttercup” and Sabrina “Renard Rouge”. Akuma attacks have never lasted more than 15 minutes since we got rid of that alley cat, and we’ve been closing in on Hawkmoth recently.

I shook my head, snapping the crude book shut, throwing the diary in the bin. Today was going to be the day I made peace with all that happened, our 10 year school reunion. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna make up with anyone, just that I will finally leave everything behind. I found my lipstick and smeared on the crimson lip, smacking my lips together. I grabbed my clutch and helped Chloé stand up, though she wobbled a little in her heels. I slid her miraculous into her updo, blowing a kiss at her as to not ruin her makeup.

We met up with Kagami and Sabrina in the hallway, Kagami in a wine red suit with gold jewellery, and Sabrina was in emerald green to compliment her red hair. We stepped into the limo awaiting us outside and set off, arriving at the school 10 minutes later. We walked up the steps, hitching up our dresses and arrived in the courtyard. It had been lit up with fairy lights, with stands of food and drinks scattered around the court. Our old classmates were huddled in small groups, whilst Mlle. Mendeleiev’s was in a large group, enjoying each other’s company after 10 years apart.

No one noticed us, until Rose pointed at me and whispered “Who’s that with Chloé?” The group turned to stare at us, trying to place my face. Adrien looked up from talking to Lila, who seemed to be flaunting a rather tacky Gabriel engagement ring, and whispered,

“Marinette?!”

The class began gossiping amongst themselves, “Marinette? Marinette? Marinette?!”

I ignored them, their childish ways were behind me, and walked up to Aurore and Mireille, fawning over their relationship. They turned Kagami, asking her about her life and squealing over her Olympic medal for fencing. I grinned as I watched my old class, happy that they had moved on from each other — well apart from Alya and Adrien, who were still hooked on Lila. I was finally, content! I thought back on my diary, one particular paragraph standing out to me at this time.

And you know, you know, you know, life can be beautiful. You hope, you dream, you pray, and you get your way! Ask me how it feels, lookin' like hell on wheels...My God, it's beautiful! I feel so beautiful... And when you're beautiful...It's a beautiful frickin' day!

Chloé boasted my achievements, my business, my awards, and the entire of Mendeleiev’s class started chanting “Marinette! Marinette! Marinette!”, much to my embarrassment. I boasted her’s in return, Sabrina revealed how far she’d come as a lawyer, Kagami swung her prized sword from side to side as she listened to us all catching up, laughing at the memories.

It really was a beautiful day.

[the-phantom-ender]

ayup, can you write a jack manifold and foolish chapter? i love your writing, man. (-jackstanifold)

So. Two things have made this fic a struggle. 1: my arthritic ass joints decided to flair up real bad. So half my body was in pain while writing it. 2: I don’t think I write Jack well. I love him, I very much enjoy his character. His vocal pattern is so hard to write.

Foolish knew Jack Manifold. Not particularly well, sure, but well enough to pick up on some things. He was stubborn, for one. Which wasn’t a bad thing, not at all. Stubbornness could be useful when the time was right. It bred strong wills and stern beliefs. All of those things were very good in some situations.

There was more to it than just that, though. Under the stubbornness, just past it really, laid betrayal. Latent and festering, bubbling like lava. Lava that Foolish knew the man was very familiar with. He absolutely believed that he’d dragged himself out of hell out of spite! There was no doubt in his mind. Of course, the fact that the concept of Undying was literally his entire thing made him notice when someone... came back.

Years ago, Foolish may have been mad at the man for cheating death. Now, though? He was kind of impressed! Besides, Jack was technically on unfinished business. Ghosts had popped into existence for less, so there wasn’t much reason to fuss. He could die. That was all that mattered, honestly.

It was stupid, really. But Foolish saw his younger self in Jack Manifold, in a way. Blinded by power and anger and bloodthirst, unable to see much of anything else. The totem god was stupid when he was younger. When he was the god of Death he ruled unfairly harshly, striking down any mortal who dared oppose him. His excuse was that they’d all returned to oblivion eventually, caring not for the fact that there was a time for everyone.

Foolish wasn’t an idiot now, though. He knew that Jack was out for vengeance, out to spill the blood of Tommyinnit. Clarity would do him well. Rome wasn’t built in a day, though. You couldn’t change a person’s perspective in just one, either. Despite this: a day was a start. Perhaps this is why the god called Jack to his temple. 

“Hellooooo?” A voice called from around a corner,” Big guy- you in here? God this place is fuckin huge…” 

Foolish rolled his eyes softly, waving the smaller man over,” I’m outside the temple proper. I’m literally all of ten feet away.”

“Oh. Right. I knew that, I did.” Jack rounded the corner more properly this time, squaring off his shoulders to seem more intimidating. He mostly just looked dorky, but Foolish wasn’t gonna tell him that. “Right then!” he clapped his hands together,” What did ya’ call me here for, exactly? Like I appreciate you wanting to chat, but there’s gotta be at least a lil more than that.” 

Foolish sighed. Of course, there was more to it than just that. How was he meant to approach this kind of thing, though? It wasn’t just like he could actively say that Jack reminded him of himself as a shitty Death god, running around and killing people because he was mad at the world. One: that was rude. Two: that felt like something someone would say to their kid. Jack was not his kid. Foolish Jr. was more than enough children for him, thank you very much.

“Follow me,” Foolish hummed at last, leading him to the center of the temple. 

It was properly done this time, and Jack couldn’t hijack it by moving anything one block. He sat down on a slight incline, gesturing for the other male to join him. After a moment of hesitation, he did.

“I don’t know how to do this in a way that isn’t… stupid. So what I’m going to do instead is, uh.” A breath,” Would you like to hear a story, Jack?”

“Well fuck, man, I didn’t expect you to drag me all this way for a story time.” 

“Just… trust me on this one.”

“Yeah yeah, alright.”

“A very, very long time ago, in a place that existed long before this, the world was very, very new. In this world, there was a pantheon of gods that controlled the universe itself. They were powerful, all of them. Among these gods, there was the young God of Death, Follis. Now this god was by no means bad at what he did, but he was a bit… over eager with his position. 

A mortal man came to the god’s temple, once, begging for safety. He’d lost his family in a mudslide and had nowhere else to go. So Follis took pity on him. He sheltered the man as long as he was able. 

They had one rule: to honor his family, the man was not to love another during his time in the temple. This went well for some time, the man was devout and thankful. Until one day, the man appeared to have courted another mortal woman in the domain of the god. 

Outraged, he struck him down right there and then. From the shock, the mortal woman’s heart gave out. She was there due to this weak heart, hoping the god could give her advice. Now… was Follis in the right to have struck the man down for going against his wishes, or was he out of turn?” 

“What?”

“Well…” Foolish hummed,” What do you think, is what I’m asking you. Do you think the man deserved the punishment?”

“Well yeah, no shit! He broke the rule!” 

“What if I told you he didn’t?”

“But you- you just told me he had!” Jack’s dual-toned eyes peeked out from under matching lenses, eyebrows knotting in confusion. 

“I told you that he appeared to have courted the woman. What if he had simply been giving the woman directions? What if he was giving her something to offer the god, as she had nothing to do so. What then? Is the man still in the wrong?”

“I... no, I guess not. If the man didn’t actually get with the lady then he got killed unfairly, yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

It grew silent for a moment. Foolish leaned back, waiting for the story to click. Of course, he’d changed the name. Follis was the root of Foolish. His true name was too important to give away like that, sorry Jack. The gears seemed to be turning in the man’s head, trying to understand what this meant. 

“I don’t get it.” He said at last.

Foolish laughed, shark teeth glinting in the dull light,” Yeah, fair enough. The moral of that story, more or less, is the importance of perspective. Something clouded by judgement may turn out to be something else completely.”

“Oh.” 

Jack's expression darkened. Which was, of course, exactly what Foolish had been expecting. He fully expected this to lead to shouting, anger. But… no. He just sat there, gazing down at the ground like he could burn holes into the sandstone with his eyes. His fists balled against his pants, knuckles white. More than aggressive, he looked lost in thought. 

“Are you- is the story ab-”

“I am, it is.” 

“Oh.”

[straighttohellbuddy]

World building is the best tbh. I’m forever world building and now I have several worlds to play in and my neurodivergent brain cannot stay still enough to focus on one lmao. SLOWBURN ROMANCES ARE MY LITERAL JAM LIKE PLS!!! I LOVE THEM!! Also!!!! Concepts!!!! Pls share!!!! I love learning about the worlds of my fave fics and I can hands down say right now that this fic will literally shoot to the top of my list of favourites which means you’ll occupy the top three spots. Sorry to hear that ur feeling rough, so am sending u the biggest hug. I’m not okay but I’m taking care of myself today so that I will be 🧡-🐈‍⬛

alsjfsldkjf i have too many worlds TBH, literally one of the best parts of my 2020 was writing for the classic rock fandom and writing one of my good friend’s ocs alongside mine, like there’s so many different worlds that our two characters have now, i’m like 26k deep into a high school au that i need to get back to at some point, and then i wrote a oneshot abt the high school au but they’re adults, and then there’s also the original timeline, and then there’s the present day in the original timeline where they have kids and i probably care too much about people who aren’t real...... hahaha

OKAY OKAY OKAY HERE WE GO I’LL GIVE KIND OF AN OVERVIEW OF THE ALBUMS AND A FEW SONGS BUT IF U WANT ME TO GO IN DEPTH ON ANY OTHER SONG JUST ASK!!!

yes i have a playlist for each, if you wanna hear how i interpret the vibes of the songs. if you interpret them differently, thats awesome!! i’d love to hear y’all’s opinions on them!!

testing one two - the first ep they release, the song titles are mostly themed (fast forward, press play, pause, rewind), but are mostly things y/n has been working on for a while but never got around to finishing, things they are rather proud of. i see you shiver with... is the first song they wrote specifically for the album, and it’s the last song on the EP because it’s a Rocky Horror reference; i see you shiver with...

a n t i c i p a t i o n - first full album!! the vibe is Hopeful But Hesitant it has all the songs from the ep, plus some new ones!! collabs with youtube musicians troye and dodie, and y/n’s label sets up a collab that turns into a genuine friendship. the breakout dance hit is what else is there to say ft. Troye Sivan, which is about not knowing what to make content about when it feels like you’ve already told the world everything. it featured the prechorus and hook

You, know, ev-ery-thing about me / gave it all for free / my life in HD / So, let’s dance, let me see your hips sway / we’re gonna be okay / what else is there to say?

So say that you love me, say that you love me, say that you love me / let’s die hand in hand. / I’ll tell you I love you, tell you I love you, tell you I love you / supply and demand. 

personally, i also conceptually enjoy srs bsns which is a really upbeat song about how they don’t care if people don’t take them seriously because they know in their heart that what they’re doing is good

hyperfocus - 2nd EP, a pretty substantial departure from their usual style, but also happens to quietly be Corpse’s favourite, and is actually y/n’s most polarising, because it has both the Grammy award winning HEARTBURN and the o brother where art thou which was written partially as a joke to capture a fond moment of them and 5SOS dicking around together in a hotel. written while on tour wit 5SOS, im writing the reader as having ADHD (because I have ADHD and i can do what i want), and the backstory is that they’d changed the medication/dosage they were taking, and as it’s their first full tour, they were under a lot of stress and were in a weird place mentally and emotionally, and hyperfocus is the result of that. i’m going through some stuff has HUGE agoraphobic vibes. 

HEARTBURN has the same vibes as Florence + The Machines’ Howl. It’s about being a demon without saying that or directly implying that unless you know demons real well. This is when the pressure for them to confirm their identity got real bad, and it was their way of working through those emotions.

tear in existence in the shape of a person / when i’m seeing clearly i can’t see myself / world can’t swallow what it can’t get it’s teeth into / got everything i wanted but i ain’t got my health

Got heart-burn--- / I’ll tear me apart / I’ll tear you apart / I’ll tear me apart. 

SCREAM gets rereleased as a remixed single featuring Fall Out Boy the following year. It won the MTV music award for best collaboration in 2018. 

In the time between hyperfocus and working on it, Y/N releases several singles, including a cover of Tell Him by The Exciters to be featured in To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before. They also take time to sort out their health, do a little bit more YT stuff, and travel internationally to do festivals. 

working on it - is kind of a middle ground between their original stuff, and hyperfocus, like pop-punk meets horror-pop meets whatever you’d classify halsey as. the first three songs were mostly written before the fic starts, so before they’re getting back to YT, but the last three, nightmare scenario, designed to hurt (touch me), and not scared were all written after they’d started hanging out with sykkuno and corpse. 

in-universe, imposter syndrome was originally something else, along the same lines of tired that they’re hiding that they’re a demon, but after meeting corpse nd sykkuno and having people who know, and lowkey being influenced by corpse’s music, the song changes directions, and YO OKAY YO::

I literally am so fucking flattered, my darling friend @bingusmode​ wrote lyrics for imposter syndrome and I’ve been yELLING about them ever since i’ve read them!! (also bunnie is fantastic and lovely in general 10/10)

if you thought you saw me 

i’d think about it twice

cuz while i know i’m naughty

everybody thinks i’m nice

cutest giggles get me

places that i long to be

but it’s not long before

everybody hates me

when you figure out i’m fucked up

you’ll probably think that can’t be right

but babe my image runs to save me

cuz i’m ugly day and night

nothing good about me

not the angel that i seem

cuz i’m a piece of shit

and i’ll ruin your fuckin dreams

i’m an impostor babe

you better run for your life

cuz there’s a bloodlust runnin through me

and you’re dripping off my knife

there’s no one here to save you

cuz you ate up all my lies

so beg me while you can

and draft up all your goodbyes 

if any of y’all are inspired by anything i put out, feel free to take it and run!! you have my blessing!! i am so overwhelmingly flattered by people who like my stuff enough to create because of it, directly or indirectly! lyrics, art, songs, anything!! legit! I love you!!

okay so designed to hurt (touch me) has big House of Memories by Panic! At The Disco vibes, and YES it’s about Corpse. YES it sends mixed messages. YES it has greek myth imagery and YES that imagery is confusing. not sure if any of these sets of lyrics actually go after each other but also idk??

will my fall from grace be graceful / as each move i see you make? / propped up on pedestals side by side / beneath our feet they shake / i’m the only one to hear you ask  / “What have they done to me?” / My boy, your wax throne is sun-drenched / you’ll fall in the name of your legacy.

eyes like yours watched rome burn / while hands like mine lit the pyre / we both heard me say we’d go down in flames / now you’re turning me into a liar / since you smile like that, like you can’t feel the sting / and we both know i can’t feel the fire

been telling myself i’m designed to hurt / but, baby, aren’t we a sight? /

check your reflection, your angles, apollo / you’re icarus in the right light /

we’re on the edge, i’m not scared to fall / we’ll take refuge in the night /

been telling yourself you’re designed to hurt / but, baby, doesn’t this feel right?

also, albumtouralbumtour is a reference to Bohemian Rhapsody.

OKAY AND FINALLY

n o s t a l g i a - the album the reader’s working on during the fic.

literally as i was writing this, bunnie sent through some FIRE lyrics for how the light gets in, (@bingusmode) i am going to be thinking about these on REPEAT for the next MONTH BRUV

little bit of darkness, treat me like a toy 

i got my hopes up and got them destroyed

bitter taste of regret sitting heavy on my tongue

can’t believe i let you convince me that you were the one

sitting here in silence, fabric running thin

petals burning in my lungs and stealing oxygen

embers from a cigarette falling to the floor

god i can’t take anymore

so i stumble to the window and pull the shades

and the moon pours in like you threw a grenade

i can’t understand why

i keep trying

cuz i never seem to win

but having any hope is how the light gets in 

from there, moment before impact ft. Billie Eilish is a club anthem along the lines of bad guy or COPYCAT, bass heavy with a drop that’s out of this world.

powdered pain, i’m in your veins / i’m the sting, the drip, the thing / you’re craving, but you hate to see me misbehaving / i heard my breakdown got you high / it’s true, but baby i can’t lie / i never got that rush, that burn / that makes you feel alive, i had to learn / to pick the slippery slope down which i fell / plan my pitstops on the way to hell / to pick my padding before i spiral / so if i break it’ll be in style

watch my misdirect, now freeze, / notice you can’t see the forest for the trees / you’re so desperate for my demise / but baby, i’ll make you watch me rise.

this is the moment before impact

controlled chaos, crash land / take a breath, trust the plan / i know you hope i’m not okay / you get off on my audio misery

controlled chaos, crash land / take a breath, trust the plan / i need you to know i want it this way / my breakdown won me a grammy

and this is the moment before impact

ur my favourite - interlude ft. sykkuno is probably one of my favourites, it’s just really soft, just a snippet of a conversation between the reader and sykkuno, maybe one of them told a joke and they both just sound real happy and sweet. its nice. it’s a nice moment.

means something is also for sykkuno!! it’s about how good-strange it is to be open and honest with friends, and how they usually aren’t but they’re glad they can be open and honest with him!!

meanwhile, i don’t think about u - interlude ft. CORPSE is a phonecall between corpse & the reader right after they announce they’re going to feature on acting like that, where corpse asks if they do this sort of thing to spite him, to which the reader responds ‘do i consider you when i’m making decisions about my career? no, corpse, actually i don’t think about you at all’ which then directly contrasts the song that ends the album, which is (how it feels to be) beautiful fireworks, which is essentially ‘i know how hard it is to exist like this, to be the centre of attention, to give off light and bring people joy, even when you’re in pain. i’m here for you. i love you.’

okay, i swear im done now, i’ll get back to writing the fic! (also i cannot BELIVE i managed to figure out how to embed those playlists but im so happy) edit: it didn’t actually work when i posted the ask, so anyways im sorry but y’all are abt to be spammed with playlists because i care too much abt this fic

[livisnotlee]

I posted 207 times in 2021

18 posts created (9%)

189 posts reblogged (91%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 10.5 posts.

I added 18 tags in 2021

#tickles - 3 posts

#tickling - 3 posts

#tickling community - 2 posts

#big hero 6 tickles - 2 posts

#big hero 6 - 2 posts

#twords - 2 posts

#bmc - 1 posts

#ler! squip - 1 posts

#lee! jeremy - 1 posts

#be more chill - 1 posts

Longest Tag: 64 characters

#this isn’t even all i still have some drafts that i’m working on

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

The ultimate risky game:

Having a lee mood in class.

I'm lucky that I sit alone up the front where basically no one can see my face, but I still get very distracted and blush. Just imagining how it would go down if someone asked why my face is so red. Aaaaaa

3 notes • Posted 2021-05-04 01:55:07 GMT

#4

26, 30

Hey thanks for the ask! Sorry it took a while, life’s been a bit crazy lately. These responses are shorter than my regular ones too so sorry about that, I hope you don’t mind 😅

26. Playful or torturous tickles?

Definitely depends on my mood, I usually prefer more playful and teasy tickles, and I like them because there’s more Rome for banter and it requires less stamina so it tends to last longer. But sometimes when I’m in an intense lee mood or if I’m feeling dangerous, I just wanna be wrecked. Like recently since I’ve single and haven’t told my friends about my liking of tickling, I just get insanely flustered whenever it’s mentioned a day it keep building up.

30. Tummy tickles or feet tickles?

I’m more comfortable with my tummy than I am with my feet, and it’s closer to a lot of other spots. And c’mon tummies are pretty cute hehe.

3 notes • Posted 2021-05-29 10:25:35 GMT

#3

1, 2, 3, 8, 12, 13, 14

Hey sorry this took me a bit. For the sake of time I’m gonna go into less detail this time haha. Thanks for sending these!

1. Would you rather be more or less ticklish?

Definitely more ticklish, from my experience I like the sensations that come along with it so I want more of that even if it’s torture. It would probably also level the playing field more for any of the tickle fights I get into, which is fun and being more vulnerable would mean I would have to ask less, yay!

2. Do you have any melt spots?

I think my lower belly is the one of the only ones I can think of, thought it would be a regular spot for a while but tried it out and didn’t tickle that much. Definitely felt nice though.

3. Lers/switches, what’s your favorite spot to tickle?

Probably the sides, tum and armpits. They’re all pretty easy to reach and in close proximity to eachother. I especially love poking the sides, you can get such an adorable reaction from just one poke and I love it heheh.

8. Do you have any unusual ticklish spots?

Ok so this is weird but a while ago I tried one of those head masager things on my buttcheeks haha. They were pretty sensitive but haven’t really had much other experience to back that up, other than that maybe around the boobs? Tmi? Sorry 😅

12. Favorite tickle fic/gif/piece of art?

Aaaaa it’s hard to choose a just one cause they’re all so good! I like a lot of the Sanders sides fics, especially the ones by @inconveniently-placed-cactus or @oliviaischillin1204 and I think @fluffymary’s art is really good! There so much more stuff that I can’t specifically name right now but oh my god this community is so creative and talented I am living for it! To all my t-content creators out there, I respect you and appreciate you all so much 💖

13. Tag someone you want to tickle

Hmm for these two I’m not that sure cause I don’t really follow that many people, and I know even less haha. I guess the people who I would want to tickle are; @buubletealee @twordyfluffytrash and @squeaky-n-blushy.

14. Tag someone you want to be tickled by

And for who I’d like to be tickled by; @switchyglitch sounds like a really cool ler but he’s been inactive for a while now though so other than him @thebest-medicine and maybe @theanonymantickle.

And I think that’s it. Sorry if I’ve tagged anyone who doesn’t wanna be tagged, and hopefully my grammar’s ok haha. Gonna go to sleep now cause it’s 1:30 over here and I have school tomorrow 😔. Have a good day/ night wherever you are and stay safe.

4 notes • Posted 2021-02-07 14:50:56 GMT

#2

Just a reminder of the #tumblrlogoff protest thing. I probably won’t be online until this time tomorrow so if you need anything send me a message and I’ll get to it as soon as I get back on. See y’all tomorrow and stay safe!

6 notes • Posted 2021-08-06 00:41:01 GMT

#1

Ok I just had a really good idea for a Be More Chill t-word scenario!

So y’know how the Squip has access to Jeremy’s body and nervous system, and he can make Jeremy move and feel pain and stuff?

There is no reason why he couldn’t simulate the feeling of being tickled…

And he can literally read Jeremy’s mind so if he was in a particularly bad lee mood that day, or being extra stubborn about not following ‘adivice’, the squip would know.

And you better believe he’d be using that shit to his advantage, you cannot tell me that computer is not a ler.

Also as a bonus: the Squip holding down Jeremy while he is being tickled by someone else

If someone knows any writers in the BMC fandom, go ahead and tag em! I really wanna see this done now.

12 notes • Posted 2021-08-20 11:39:43 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[slytherinlesbian3]

YOOOO! TO ALL YALL TOH FANS THAT FOLLOW ME (or don't, that's cool)

I FINALLY STARTED A LUMITY FIC! (You can find ch1 HERE)

Yes luz is main character, I love her

Gus and Willow are in it! :D I love my babies

It's set in Roman times/Rome. I've got an idea, trust me

It'll be angsty (just a sprinkle)

I bumped their ages up! I feel uncomfortable writing anything about characters that are younger than my own age, so I made them young adults (it also fits the story better)

Amity's parents are still ✨assholes✨

But Luz's are not! Or Gus'! Or Willow's! HEALTHY FAMILY REP, WHOO!

I am leaving a lot of characters out because I don't want it to be too big:( I'm sorry y'all, my brain isn't strapped in for that yet. Buuut...we'll have the main/semi-main ones, which...well, it's a lumity fic. I could leave everyone except Luz and amity out and my goal would be complete, anyway-

The chapters are 1k words each - I'm already working on (rn 85 pages) another fic that's too complex and I want this to be a side project, so not too complex, not too long

Last but not least, I NEED A SCHEDULE! To all y'all folks interested, give me a day! Give me a time! Actually, just a day- I'm bad with times. When do YOU want ME to update? Tuesday? Sunday? Friday?? I NEED TO KNOWWWWWW!! (Every Friday)

Ladies, gents, folks, nb, trans, bisexuals, those that identify as "sexy", owls, tea drinkers, Red Bull lovers, fantasy football players, popcorn chewers, keyboard warriors, console gamers, and everything in between (let me know if I missed one), PLEASE let me know! Or don't, that's...cool...I guess...*sad hoot noises*

It will be posted (when I get a day) on: @bookshelf-imagines , aka my writing side-blog.

If there are questions, plot ideas (yes, give me ideas! This thing is based off of three ideas I had that aren't until mid-end of the book, I'm dying here), concerns, tips, tricks, advice, whatever it is, don't be afraid to come forth! Whether its comments, DM, asks, or reblogs, or even in the tags, I'll do my best to answer it. I'm really hyped for this fic, so please, please, PLEASE help me 💕💕✨

THANK YOU!! 💕💕💕

[imnotwolverine]

Written in Egyptian Cotton

Henry Cavill x OC (Naomi) one-shot

Disclaimer: NSFW, sexual tension w/ someone outside of relationship, emotional blackmailing, break-up, smut

Word count: 9.982

Author’s note: It took a while, but here’s a fic I’ve written on request of darling @cherrybloomn​ (thank you for all your wonderful ideas, patience and help! ❤️). It may have changed quite a bit from your original idea, going from pure smut to something with nearly 10k of backstory - WOOPS - but here goes.

PS. I just got back from work ..and..eh..WHAT?! I got like 200 notifications, which is like 10x what I’m used to getting in such a time frame. So, whatever’s going on; thank you sweet readers, it’s such a joy to see you enjoying my work in such great numbers, and what a great way to start my weekend! YAY!!  🎉

--

Written in Egyptian cotton

‘Well you could have just told me. Yeuss Henry..’ The pretty brunette rolled her eyes and turned away from him, her face pouting as she scooted back, further expanding the already significant distance between the two.

‘But..I did! I…’ He sighed, realising she was no longer listening, her arms crossed in front of her ample bosom as she looked out of the window of the jeep, the vehicle bouncing left and right as it drove over the uneven desert road.

The blond woman in the shotgun seat, Naomi, bit her lip, the petty fight behind her reminding her just what a ..joy..it was to not have a partner of her own. And this definitely wasn’t the first petty fight between her two clients, the two near endlessly bickering over the past week. They were far from the calm, loving couples she was used to giving tours, being a personal traveling guide for the well-to-do.

‘I hate this.’ The brunette softly muttered under her breath, the air in the jeep now so tense that it would only be a matter of time before the ticking time bomb that she, Victoria, was, would completely explode.

The other day she had in fact almost jumped out of the car after a full hour of nagging that she didn’t want to go. And now? Now she was picking a fight over the fact that Henry hadn’t told her explicitly that we wouldn’t be back before dinner, since..well..the name kind of implied as much; we were going to do a ���Night Tour”.

The darling brunette had not packed any extra clothes, which is, no matter what you are going to do in the desert, ab-so-lute-ly ridiculous. People got stuck here all the time and nature didn’t care about your pouting face and stomping feet. Carefully looking over her shoulder Naomi caught a glimpse of Henry’s eyes as he bit his tongue again, the large man quietly clenching his fists before his blue eyes quickly looked away, avoiding Naomi’s knowing gaze.

It was going to be a long, long, long afternoon..and probably even longer night.

Shivering in the cold night air as she had given some of her spare clothes to Victoria, Naomi called a silent prayer as she heard the wind in her back carry the all familiar nagging voice of one very unhappy client.

Would this ever end?

‘My feet hurt. Can we go back?..HENRY? Hello? Earth to Henry?…I’m tired.’ The small company just trudged on through the sandy dunes, some pocket lights shining the way to a small beduin village where a local would tell about life in the desert and explain how the stars were used to travel in the vast expanse of this sandy landscape.

It was a pretty night. The wind laying low and the stars sparkling bright like a million tiny freckles on a black velvet canvas. Almost perfect. Almost, the peace and quiet of millions of sand grains not being able to muffle the never-ending wails that escaped Victoria’s lips, no matter what her lover Henry tried - the shame and annoyance clear on his clean shaven, handsome face.

‘Vic..- URGH - Victoria. Please. Just…’ Henry’s voice came out strained and choppy. ‘Stop.’

‘Oh YOU WANT ME TO STOP. Well here.’ She stopped her dragging feet at once, soon falling even further behind. Henry halted as well, shining his light at her, her face turned up in an angry scowl. ‘..I stopped.’ She growled.

‘Vic..baby come on. I promise once we get back I’ll make it up. We’ll..’ He hesitated. ‘We’ll..just..reschedule our plans. Look for a..a..swimming pool..and..hammam. Get you pampered, hmm? Just a few more hours, okay babe?’

‘FUCK. YOU.’ She near-screamed over the listening landscape, the small gathering of other tourists that had arrived for the tour now also halting to hear and see what was amiss with these two.

Naomi quickly paced back to check on her bickering clients, her heels sinking away in the heavy sand before she halted next to Henry, his voice just biting back a quiet; ‘I wish we’d at least do tha..’ - ‘Hey. You okay?’ Naomi looked Henry up and down, his face long and exasperated. He looked positively DONE with his darling girlfriend.

‘Yea..it’s..we just..’ He looked at Victoria and wetted his lips. ‘..Just a..just a moment, okay?’ He offered Naomi a pleading look and took a shaky breath before quickly moving down the dune hill to talk some sense into Victoria.

They truly were an interesting pair. Victoria playing Henry like a fiddle. A sweet caress, a little flirt, followed with an on-slaught of ..well..emotional blackmailing?

Naomi watched Henry disappear in the half-light, her blond hair flailing in the gentle night air as was lit up by the dozen pocket lights that shone behind her back, the rest of the group now also watching the scene unfold.

The scene where Victoria broke with him, Henry.

AGAIN.

Yea..this was emotional blackmailing.

‘Hey.’ - ‘Hey…’ Henry hesitantly stepped into the corner of the hotel bar, Naomi sprawled onto a low sofa as she was typing away on her laptop, the hour late and her hand keeping a cocktail right within arm’s reach. ‘Can I eh..’ He bit his lip. ‘..join? I mean. I don’t want to..’ - ‘Oh yes, of course! Please!’ Naomi hastily sat up and pushed aside the scattering of paper that had gathered around her as she worked through the plans she was making for her next trip.

‘I really don’t want to disturb you. Please…I..’ - ‘Henry.’ Naomi looked up at him with a stern but friendly look. ‘Sit down.’

He sighed and smiled hesitantly, the falling out with Victoria clearly having scarred his confidence a little, his large feet carefully stepping into the small nook to take a seat on the dark blue sofa. With a sigh escaping he let himself sink into the comfortable pillows, his whole being obviously very exhausted with all that had come to pass.

‘See. The couch doesn’t bite.’ Naomi winked, hoping it would lighten the mood ever so slightly as she moved to place all her stuff on the seat next to her.

‘Well that makes one thing that doesn’t bite me in the butt.’ He snickered, his voice echoing the tiredness of his body after a long day of attending to the every need of Victoria - who had thankfully retired to the hotel room by now.

‘Yea..’ Naomi said softly, her voice trailing away in the incense heavy air, the temperature inside the hotel lounge so very comfortable after a few long hours of hiking through the cold desert dunes. She had fallen into a bit of a rosy state, her pale cheeks slightly flustered, a fluster that got even worse when Henry finally laid a good eye on her.

He had that effect on her.

Always had.

‘So..’ Naomi quickly swallowed, reaching for her drink in hope it would cool her down somewhat. ’..that was an eventful night, hmm?’

‘You can say that.’ Henry sighed, sinking even further down in the pillows so he could rest his head on the backrest. It didn’t look like he was going to share his thoughts with her, and Naomi couldn’t blame him.

‘Hey..shall I get you a drink? Looks like you can use a drink.’

‘Oh no..please. I can..’ He tried to get up from his comfortable position but Naomi gently coaxed him back in the pillows. ‘I’ve gotcha, no worries.’ She said, using her fingertips to push him back down. A gesture that made their eyes interlock for another brief moment, both their mouths falling open ever so slightly as Naomi’s nimble fingers felt through the soft fabric of his shirt, noting Henry’s rapid beating heart, his pupils blown out wide.

Naomi hastily pulled back her hand and smiled. ‘Sorry.’

Darn it Naomi! He literally broke up with his girlfriend two hot seconds ago!

Besides..HE’S YOUR CLIENT.

’No..no..please..It’s okay.’ Henry muttered, pushing himself up from the pillows all the same, his eyes looking for hers but she already evaded his gaze again. A mere look of those ocean blues did things to her that she should not even think about. She shouldn’t make the same mistakes she made earlier.

He’s a client. And a very good, returning client at that. Behave yourself!

‘Yea..okay..drinks.’ Naomi pushed herself off the couch and with long strides she carried herself to the bar, out of his sight, one heated night in the city of Rome springing back up in her mind.

Ugh..Rome..

‘Can I ..can I at least have a pillow and a blanket?’ Henry tried, standing in the corner of his and Victoria’s hotel room. ‘Pffft! You run so hot in the night..like you fucking NEED it.’  

‘VICTORIA dammit! I’m trying to just…ARGH..’ - ‘WHAT?! HUH? Make amends?! Oh look at me being all goooood, your superhero ready to serve your every need. I am Henry, I am too good to keep my girlfriend involved when we plan OUR SHARED FUCKING HOLIDAY.’ Victoria fumed as she pricked her long, prettily manicured nail in his chest. ‘Or is that not how it went, hmm? HMMM?’ She moved to spin around on her heel, but Henry caught her arm before she could reach the bed, his hand gripping awkwardly around the silky smooth fabric of her black bathrobe.

Black like the poison in her words.

‘Vic..I’m sorry..really..’ He sounded at loss for words, his every attempt to make things better between them, only causing more damage. His voice got close to breaking as Victoria’s words echoed in his ear.

‘Don’t Vic me.’ She growled, fiercely pulling her arm from his grip and reached for a little blanket and a pillow. ‘Here. You sleep on the fucking couch.’ And with that she threw the items at him before pointing at the couch that was situated behind a curtain in the corner of the room.

Henry blinked and held his breath, the fabric of the little blanket coarse beneath his finger tips.

Another uncomfortable night on a couch, it was.

‘Wow, look at that!’ Henry’s eyes glittered as the boat coasted over the smooth water of the Nile, a number of land workers digging through the wet soil on the river bed to create water trenches for their crops. ‘Cool right.’ Naomi stepped in besides him, joining him as he watched the men work. ‘They’ve been doing it like that for thousands of years. In fact the Egyptians became one of the first cultures to develop such large scale agriculture. And actually.. if you look to the..’ - ‘Hi!’ Victoria peaked in between the two of them, her face all smiles as she squeezed herself through, trying to get a glimpse of what Henry and Naomi were looking at.

‘Whatcha talking about, hmm?’ She smiled at Henry, who blinked at her like she had just slapped him right in the face.

‘Eh..the..the..fieldworkers.’ He quickly gathered himself, stepping aside to make room for her, ever the gentleman. ‘You see those men there?’ He pointed at the bronzed figures in the distance, toiling in the harsh midday sun.

‘Mhm, what about them? Hey, by the way, they have cocktails on board, did you know that?’

And just like that the conversation was diverted back to the many luxuries that Henry didn’t care much about, but Victoria? Oh Victoria most definitely did.

It had played out like this on a near daily basis. Like the bipolar sexbomb Victoria was, she was either a sweet, happy and bubbly spirit, or a projectile of red clawed nails and vicious words whose sole purpose was to hurt whomever got near.

Which, usually was Henry.

As Victoria pulled on Henry’s arm to attract his attention, he looked past the brunette to meet the worried gaze of Naomi. He knew what she thought. All in just one simple look.

Oh...If only his life could be so simple as to understand his lovers with just one look.

If only everything in life was so simple, so gentle, as the caress of her fingers over the cotton sheets of her bed.

Trailing her finger pads over the notoriously soft Egyptian cotton, Naomi looked up at the ceiling of her hotel room. Usually she had a near endless pool of energy to tap from. Traveling, in the end, was her life’s dream. Now, however, she was simply exhausted. Truly, truly exhausted.

Naomi just hoped that beneath the childish nagging and materialistic bullshit that seemed to make up 99% of Victoria’s being, there was somewhere deep underneath that 1% that made her a good match for Henry. Because honestly, she couldn’t see it. She couldn’t see what made the two a good fit.

Happy, cheerful Henry seemed honestly depressed. She had known him for years and never had she seen the large man shrink so small and unsure. And Victoria? She seemed truly restless, her gaze and attention falling a bit too often on other men. Rich men. As if she was setting up a back-up plan.

Poor Hen..

*knock knock*

Naomi blinked and turned her head slightly. Had she just imagined that? The room was near quiet, some muted sounds outside the third floor window of a few people walking through the nightly streets of Caïro. Hmm, strange. Maybe it was just her mind playing tricks on her. She looked back up at the ceiling, her fingers trailing back over the soft cotton.

Maybe she could help him. Maybe she could..

*knock knock*

Alright. There was definitely something, or someone, there. Sitting up and slipping into a bathrobe to look at least a little bit presentable, her bare feet padded over to the door as she searched for a light switch, hands flicking open the lock to see who was there.

Henry, his lips curling in a tentative smile as he carefully let out a little breath.

‘H-heyy..Henry.’ Naomi blinked, then looked into the hallway left and right, almost as if half expecting a vicious Victoria to come chasing him down the long hallway. But, there was nobody else there.

‘Hi. Eh..mind if I eh..’ He gestured over her shoulder and she gulped a quick agreement, stepping back to let him inside.

Did something happen?

‘Yea..sure, sure. Come in. Don’t want to wake the neighbors haha.’ - ‘Yea..the neighbors.’ Henry swallowed, his eyes flying around her small, but comfortable hotel room. On one side of her king sized bed a scattering of maps and tourist info, obviously moved aside so she could go to sleep in the other half, sheets already tousled.

‘You know what...I..It can wait til morning. I didn’t know you went to bed.’

‘Oh no, please, please. I couldn’t sleep AT ALL, actually. Tired yes. Sleep no.’ Naomi shrugged.

‘Hmm.’ Henry’s brows furrowed as he looked back at Naomi, seeing she indeed looked quite tired. So unlike her, the steady force of happy, bubbly excitement in his life right now.

‘I hope it’s not about..Victoria..I really am so sorry about-’ - ‘It’s fine. Truly. I mean, you can’t really help it now, can you? Sometimes things are easy, sometimes they’re...not?’ She smiled at him and quickly moved past, hand accidentally brushing against his as she reached to fold back the sheets, a quick attempt to make the room look somewhat more presentable.

‘So. Anything I can assist you with?’ She turned back around, the energy in the room suddenly very tense.

Oh..they should never be alone. She just knew it. Everytime they were alone, things were bound to happen.

It was past 11 o’clock and Henry, her very hot-hot-hot client, was standing here in her small hotel room. Why?

‘I guess I just..eh..’ He looked around the room again. ‘..wanted to apologise. I mean you had to..’ He gestured at the paperwork on her bed. ‘..change your plans. And I really, truly appreciate all your hard work and how you are dealing with this situation with me and Victoria.’

‘Eh..but of course. I mean, that’s what you hired me for.’ Naomi shrugged it off, barely noticing the restless shuffle of Henry’s feet. ‘It’s not just that though, is it?’ She gave him a discerning look and he slowly shook his head. ‘You know what. This is really silly on my part. It’s late and we both should catch some sleep. Great plans for tomorrow, right?!’

And before Naomi could even blink he had left again.

Was it just her, or was Henry acting increasingly weird now things were crash-and-burning with Victoria?

--

A day off. It was almost strange to have a day off when you were going on a holiday, but right now Naomi was more than a little glad that they had planned this day for everyone to go about their business alone. And, from the looks of it, that was just what everyone was doing. Naomi had given Victoria some tips on local spas that she could visit and Henry had simply vanished into thin air.  

Which was fine. Naomi wasn’t sure if she could handle being alone with him again. Not after that night he had visited her hotel room. And most definitely not now, after she had some hot and bothering dreams in which she explicitly thought of what COULD have happened, had he stayed.

All scenarios including very..VERY unprofessional actions on her part.

Naomi was feeling tense and all she really needed right now, was a nice..relaxing..stretch session.

With her room being simply too small to even sit on the ground properly, she had opted for the hotel’s gym, the midday hour meaning practically all tourists were out in the pool or on excursions. There was nobody else, which made it just a little less awkward to roll around in some shorts and a tank top as she followed along with a Youtube video she would always resort to whenever things in her life got stressful.

Deep relaxing breaths escaped her slightly parted lips as she sat there in a cobra position, head tipped back, eyes closed, arms pushing up her upper body as her legs lay stretched out behind her. Just..breathe in..and..breathe out. Breathe in ..and..

*scchwwupp*

The door of the gym quietly slid open.

Okay, just, don’t pay attention to it. You’re here for you, Naomi. Just..breathe in..breathe out...breathe in..

Not managing to calm her curiosity completely, she peaked through the ceiling height mirror to check who it was. And well, have you there, it was of course a gleaming, beaming, slightly sweaty Henry.

‘Hi.’ He breathed, smiling, getting back his breath after what probably had been a run out in the scorching hot Egyptian sun.

‘Hi.’ Naomi swallowed, quickly reverting her attention back to the video before her and acting like there was nothing awkward about sitting there in clothes that really left nothing to his imagination. And oh how absolutely wonderful it was that she was right in front of that darn floor-to-ceiling mirror, the reflection making sure that he could not only admire her back..but also her front.

UGH..the gods had a sense of humour, didn’t they?

Swallowing back those thoughts she sat back on her buttocks to follow the instruction along, the stretch continuing with a focus on the legs, her hands reaching out to touch her toes, back straight. And ..breathe in...breathe out..breathe in…

She could swear he was watching her, but it was probably rude to check.

And breathe in..breathe..Fine, a little peak then.

Making sure she was not too obvious she quickly eyed Henry, his attention averted to adding weights to a bar.

He looked good. His broad chest sporting a grey shirt that sat snug on his pecs, his shorts begging for mercy as they stretched over his generous booty and thighs, long legs covered in a fine sheen of sweat and hair.

Oh, he was truly a thing of magnificence wasn’t he?

[ Florence, Italy, a few years back. ]

‘And here, the one and only..David by the great artist Michelangelo!’ Naomi pointed at the humongous statue as it rose high above both their heads, Henry’s eyes admiring the smooth stone that bulged with perfectly hewn muscles and sharp facial features much like his own.

Though, not entirely like him, his eyes dragging down to the crotch area before raising a careful eyebrow.

‘Aherm..yes. Times were quite different then,’ Naomi chuckled. ‘..with the Greek also having pretty clear opinions on ideal genitalia sizes and shapes. Smaller, back then, was considered to fit the ideal Greek man, since it fit with the profile of being rational, intellectual and authoritative, whereas bigger penises were related to lust and foolishness. And that was very much opposite of what Greeks wished to exude.’

Henry frowned and slowly shook his head. ‘Why not both?’ To which Naomi broke out in a loud chuckle, making Henry snicker in turn. ‘Sure..why not..both?’ She winked.

--

Why not both?

Well. Not much later that week she had learned what Henry had meant with that little joke. And what he packed away beneath those tight gym shorts she was staring at right now, the fabric straining around his muscles as he bent over to start a timer.

Oh he surely would have made Michelangelo’s David blush - both by those ridiculous gym shorts and what was beneath.

Henry was a man of intellect, authority ..and ..well..he sure as hell was packing.

Swallowing back those thoughts too, Naomi finished her stretching sessions with red hot cheeks - her mind trying to blame it on the barely working airconditioning, but she knew better as she returned her gaze to the mirror, finding his eyes there.

Of course he was looking back at her now she was a blushing mess.

With feral eyes, face in deep grunting focus, he pushed the heavy weighted bar high above his head. The weights at either end probably as heavy as she was, her eyes staring in quiet admiration, the air so very tense again that she just had to hold her breath as she watched him lower down the weight.

Turning around, wishing to bid him a good day and leave, she simply couldn’t. Their eyes interlocking and his face turning into a teasing grin, he furrowed his brow and pushed up the weight again, muscles flexing, hair tumbling over his sweaty face.

Ugh, that beautiful chiseled face.

No matter how focused and snarling he looked at her, she couldn’t help but feel all kinds of hot and bothered, completely ensnared in his gaze. And so she just stood there, watching, phone and gym bag in hand, ready to leave but doing none of the sort.

*cla-clang*

With a slightly awkward slip Henry pushed the weighted bar back in its holder, Naomi finally awaking from her stare as a little smirk appeared on her lips.

‘Don’t hurt yourself, cowboy.’ She mused, finding back her teasing confidence.

Henry snickered and shook his head, looking away for a split second to make sure the weight wasn’t causing damage, before realising she was now really making her way towards the door.

‘Unless of course you want me to.’ He teased back, slightly out of breath, making Naomi offer him one more raised eyebrow over her shoulder before she quickly disappeared.

D-did he mean something by that? Or was this just Henry being unaware of the tease he was being?

[ Rome, Italy, a few years back ]

Blond, bouncy and confident, Naomi waved her hands in the air as she explained in great detail how the city of Rome had been rebuilt numerous times over the past few thousand years. “And look here!” She’d say with that grand smile on her lips, attracting Henry’s attention like nothing else could, his eyes barely managing to tear away from her whenever she wished him to look at a grubble of old decaying rock.

It was the first holiday in years without a lover by his side and, though he was fine with being alone, he couldn’t help but wish for having someone there to share his trips with. And thus he had hired her again. Naomi. He had hired for a trip a year prior, which had been with his brothers, wives, nephews and nieces.

So very different was this trip to Italy, being just the two of them, her hands now halting mid-air as she struck a near comical pose, copying the stance of a statue of a grand fountain they were walking past. Henry chuckled loudly, cheeks dimpling and eyes twinkling.

She was cute.

‘Do you dance?’ He asked, near teasingly.

Oh gods..he couldn’t help but tease her endlessly. It was a perfect way to get the rather professionally dressed and well-learned blond woman before him to loosen up and strike a pose like she did just now. Winking at him, a chuckle on her lips, she nodded towards a bridge in the far distance. ‘Only one way to find out, cowboy!’ She teased back, walking ahead and making Henry chase her through the tourist horde.

He enjoyed the chase.

Looking back over her shoulder she offered him a kitten-like, though also quite taunting, little smirk. ‘..tonight, maybe?’ She smiled.

Henry’s heart flipped out of his chest, his ears almost unbelieving of the very subtle flirt that had just escaped her lips.

It had taken him a full year to get the blondine for him alone. And then some weeks before she would as much as offer him a wink or tease back. But this? THIS?! OOPH, this was more than he could have wished for. He may not be much of a dancer, but her offer? He just couldn’t refuse.

--

‘OH GODS.’ Naomi shot up from the bed, the crinkled Egyptian cotton sheets falling down her naked curves, her eyes staring in slight shock at a sleepily blinking Henry. ‘W-what?’ He yawned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he watched the blondine rush out of his bed, her hands quickly grabbing for her clothes.

Only after her underwear was back in place, did she turn back towards him, eyes big like those of a deer in the headlights. ‘I’m SO..SO sorry. Dammit..ugh..let’s ..forget this ever happened, okay?’ She said, looking at him with intent as she pulled on her jeans with kicking feet. Jeans that he had so deliciously rolled down her legs only a few hours prior.  

Realising what was happening a tad too late, Henry’s sleep muddled brain could only produce a confused ‘Okay..sure..’ As he watched her leave his hotel room.  

Had it all been but a dream?

As a dream is a wish your heart makes

‘UGH..and these don’t fit either!’ Victoria growled, her tone of voice so very unladylike, so very unlike what she presented to the world with her well coiffed hair, elegant white palazzo trousers and silky light blue blouse. It just proved that no matter how pretty a person was from the outside, it could never truly hide what was inside.

Near throwing the “pretty curly shoes” back at the poor vendor, she looked up at Naomi, her mouth curled down in a dissatisfied pout.

Naomi tried; ‘It’s eh..actually rather normal to wear slightly too small shoes here - in fact it’s the reason why you fold the back of the shoe flat beneath the soles of your feet.’

It was obvious that this wasn’t the desired answer.  

With one angry snarl of Victoria, Naomi’s words were quick to die on the tip of her tongue, her lips curling in an apologetic smile at the salesman, the man quickly shrugging before he turned to look for some different shoes that would appease the queen of drama.

‘Pff..it’s not like you know shit about fashion.’ Victoria muttered begrudgingly, looking away from Naomi in annoyance. It was then Naomi decided it was best to just flee the scene, her feet shuffling backwards until she bumped into one large chest.

Henry’s chest.

‘Woops..sorry.’ Naomi swallowed, quickly stepping aside and creating some socially appropriate distance between the two of them - quite a challenge as the little shop was packed from top to bottom with those “cute little curly shoes”, the racks squeezed so tight together that you could barely walk through the small isles, Henry and his wide chest having to actually side-shuffle to move through.

‘No..no problem.’ Henry muttered, quickly eyeing what Victoria was up to over Naomi’s shoulder. And thankfully, she had now occupied herself with her smartphone as she waited for the sales vendor to get back with a new batch of shoes. Naomi followed his gaze and quietly whispered; “Well, looks like prince charming found himself a Cinderella of sorts.’

‘Ha.-ha.’ He said unamused, then rolled his eyes at her, lips curling in a smile. Naomi chuckled.

Then Henry used the moment to study Naomi, her blond hair half-hidden behind a royal blue head wrap - it looked pretty on her. Subdued, but pretty, her face without make-up and her outfit a simple unwashed linen shirt and ankle length skirt. Like..

‘Cinderella? Hmm..I think there’s only one Cinderella here..and Victoria..is definitely not the one.” He smiled, making Naomi blush ever so becomingly as she quickly turned to meticulously study a stand with leather bags.

Pfft..what the hell was he talking about. She was hardly a princess, right?  

Looking back at him through the corner of her eyes she saw him still looking at her, an appreciative smile ghosting his lips.

Right?!

[ Carcassonne, France, a year ago ]

‘WOA..did you hear that?’ Naomi looked nervously over her shoulder, the single street lantern behind them casting long, ominous shadows over the cobble-stoned alleyway. Almost without noticing herself she stepped closer to Henry, the large bear of a man right in step as they walked back to the hotel after a rather late dinner in the medieval old town centre.

Narrow alleyways, uneven cobble-stoned roads, cute little squares. The old fortified city had made for a nice sightseeing trip as they drove with Henry and his team down for a week-long team excursion in the Pyrenees mountains. The rest of the group had taken a cab, but with there being no place left, Henry had been quick to just wave them off, offering to walk to the hotel together as Naomi knew the way and “he would keep her safe”.

Something she had thought quite ridiculous, wishing to call another cab, but Henry had been adamant.

What he didn’t know was that she was in fact just really quite afraid of the dark, and so, with every passing cat or gust of wind, she’d hold her breath, stepping closer to Henry in hope he would in fact protect her if the need arose.

And Henry? Oh, he loved every minute of it.

‘Don’t worry.’ Henry smiled, reaching out his hand and folding it around hers.

Amicably, but spark-inducing anyways. Naomi chewed on her lip as she felt the warmth of his palm ooze into her skin, the simple touch calming her nerves like nothing quite could.

‘I’ll gladly be your knight in shining armour!’ He beamed, winking at her, to which the last of her nerves finally faltered, making way for a tinkling little laugh. ‘Oh...OH!’ Naomi exclaimed, then flailed her free hand extremely dramatically before her face, acting all tender and maidenlike, ready to swoon right in his arms. ‘OH it’s so SO dark! And scary! And..’ They both break out laughing, Henry squeezing her hand and pulling her closer to his chest.

And she let him.

Henry couldn’t be happier, the little moment being just what he had hoped for. Not only having the time alone with Naomi, but also seeing her burst out of her neatly built up walls. Ever the professional, it was hard to get her to join in such banter like they had right now. And he liked every second of it, his feet trying to slow their pace just so it would last a little while longer.

It was unfortunately also the only moment that holiday during which she allowed him to come anywhere near that close to her, further tempering any hope he held to finally grasp her attention.

Did she not feel what he felt? Did she not ..enjoy..being around him, like he enjoyed being around her?

Hmmm...France. It seemed so long ago.

The reality of Henry’s life was quite different now as they once more walked through a dark alleyway. Though this time with Victoria next to him.

No hands being held, though conversation warm and surprisingly pleasant between him and Victoria - she seemed to be in a good mood. Perhaps, just maybe, he was simply comparing her too much to others. To Naomi. Victoria was Victoria. He had to give her a chance.

After a little evening stroll they had arrived at a cute restaurant where they’d be having dinner, Naomi having walked ahead to explain in the best of her capabilities that they wished to get a table out of view - so fans wouldn’t disturb Henry during dinner.

Feeling eager to recapture that memory of France, which he had kept so close to his heart, he reached out a hand to Victoria, her face pulling into one of near agony as she quickly swatted it away.

‘It’s too freaking hot Hen.’ She said with exasperation - as if he was stupid for even thinking about touching her - her eyes moving back to Naomi as she and the waiter seemed to come to an agreement, a simple “come-hither” wave of Naomi’s hand gesturing them to join her.

Well. So much for hoping things were okay now. Was it..urgh..was it bad to wish that Victoria would take a cab home, so he and Naomi could..walk back to the hotel again?

--

It was a good question to ask why in the hell’s name he had stayed with her. Victoria. Every time he decided to give it another shot, appreciate the little moments that were good, he was disappointed even more.

Sitting now, alone, on the edge of the hotel bed, it was probably the reason why he didn’t feel any disappointment. Her clothes gone and the hotel room void of anything other than the furniture and the never-ending heat that lingered between these walls, Henry couldn’t help but feel a slight relief. Slowly he let his eyes wander across the room, for the first time truly appreciating what was there.

It was large and with oriental luxury in abundance, a prettily mosaic tiled bath sunken in the middle of the room, heavy dark blue drapes hung around it and candles at the ready might the need for something romantic arise.

Not that such a thing had happened with Victoria. Not in quite a few weeks..or actually months by this point.  

It was always either too hot, too humid, or she had a headache, was tired or just got her period. Excuses, excuses, Henry realised, as he saw her eyes glimpse a touch too often at other men. Rich men. Her laugh and banter directed at those men whenever she could - thinking he didn’t see.

And now she was gone. She had broken up with him, again, though from the definity of her actually leaving, this was probably truly foregood.

Henry could only guess where she was now. With the creepy old Italian, with whom she had been flirting for over a week now? Or perhaps that sjeik that had been a bit too obvious in his curiosity for her as they made a visit to his estate?

Henry felt bad. Bad for how all this had come to play out, as well as that he simply couldn’t bring himself to care for Victoria at this point. He had made sure there was a cab waiting for her, he had apologised for whatever tiny little misstep he might have taken, in hope to salvage the situation, though knowing full well that neither one of them truly wanted that. Not Victoria, but also not he.

He just didn’t like goodbyes. And Victoria had used his tenderness, abused his tenderness, to the extent that he wasn’t even sure if relationships were a good idea for him anyways. He had wasted most of his life on women that may have stolen his heart, but made him insane in the process. Either they wanted his fame, his money..pfft..even just the sex. But never truly, just..him.

*BZZT BZZZT*

Naomi: “Henry! Are you okay? I received the notification that Victoria has just checked out of the hotel. If you need some time, don’t feel pressured to answer. I just want to know you are safe and taken care of. If you need anything, I’m a call away. Naomi.”

Well, alright, at least there was at least someone looking out for him.

He sighed, a smile brushing across his lips as he reached out for his phone that lay forlorn next to him.

Naomi.

Where some hotels had nice, proper running air conditioning, this cooling system seemed to run on the coil of the earth, the walls near sweating with the humidity that hung in the air like a thick, heavy blanket. Naomi wiped her forehead as she continued to fold her clothes, neatly packing her suitcase so they could leave next thing in the morning - that was, if Henry would be ready to.

Just a few hours ago she had walked past the reception desk to inquire at what hour they could check out, only to hear that one of the guests had already done so. Victoria Koberlach. Left without a trace, without a message or goodbye.

And honestly, that wasn’t so much of a surprise. Victoria hadn’t really come across as a person who cared about the well-being of others. Especially if there wasn’t something there for her to gain. She was the most charming woman from a far, but once you got close you could see the fine lines between her brows from the many times the furrowed them, angry pouting and stomping her foot to get her way.

The princess had left the building.

Sighing quietly, she zipped open the inner pocket of her suitcase, wishing to slip in her toiletry bag when something seemed to obstruct it. Something small. With hesitant fingers she reached inside, only to find an old trinket there. And not just any trinket.

That darn fucking ring.

In the low light of the few lights that lit her room, the hour getting quite late, the golden band with the heart shaped cut diamond shone like one of the treasures from Ali Baba. Pretty, but deceiving. Not only was it absolutely not her style - too big and too loud -, it also carried with it the memories of her ex-husband.    

Just like Victoria, he had been a handsome, charming man from a distance. And Naomi had fallen hard for him. So hard that her sweet 22-year-old ass had barely noticed when his caring, authoritative figure was not galant and kind, but overbearing and manipulative.

Before she knew it she barely dared to open her mouth to express her thoughts and feelings, his head already shaking as he laughed it off. ‘Oh you women.’ Which he’d then follow up with a tap to her ass or a squeeze of her cheek. He would be the one to tell what they’d be eating at a restaurant. He’d be the one telling her she looked tired and perhaps should let down her hair so it looked better with that dress he bought her. He would tell her she just needed some sleep, when she was feeling emotional or insecure.

Not in the five years they had been together, had he once truly asked her how she truly felt. Never did he ask about what was going on in her mind. She thought this was what love was. Someone who took care of you to the point you didn’t have to think or feel anymore. You just had to ..get pregnant, be a mom, raise that family and be the good, sweet wife. Before she knew it that gaudy ring was on her finger and she made herself believe that this was happiness.

But it wasn’t. It was a prison. And as they were shopping for a bigger house and she stood there in those rooms that were ready for their off-spring, she decided that she just couldn’t do it. She went on a trip with a friend to clear her thoughts, only to find that not only did she no longer wish to be with that overbearing, manipulative husband of hers.

She wanted to truly be free.

And here she was. A private travel guide, following her life long dream or travelling for her job. Setting out her own path.

Love, had to be side-tracked. It only caused her pain.

Men, in fact. Needed to be side-tracked. Because not ever did she want to sink down in that hell hole again. Not ever again would she let herself make the same stupid mistakes.

*BZZ BZZ*

Henry is calling.

‘Hey’ She answered, quickly letting the ring slip back in its initial hiding spot.

‘Hi..eh..I saw your message.’

‘Hey..yea..do you need anything? Can I..?’

‘Eh..could you maybe come over? To my room?’

A soft shuffling of feet and zippers being zipped told Naomi that Henry was indeed in the room, her head peeking around the door that had been intentionally left unlocked and cracked open. What she saw was probably one of the prettiest sights she had yet to lay her eyes upon.

The room was mutely lit, small speckles of light dancing over the ceiling, large drapes hiding most of the room from sight, Henry on the right near a large bed, folding his clothes just like she had done moments earlier. Engrossed with his task, he hadn’t noticed her presence just yet. He looked..okay..she guessed. Not distressed, panicked, angry or sad. Just..normal.

Closing the door behind her, stepping further into the room, the soft click of the heavy lock finally made him look up, big blue eyes meeting hers.

So...now what? She wasn’t sure what to say or do.

What do you do after someone just left you? What do you want, need? What did..Henry..need? She wasn’t sure, his eyes surprisingly calm, his lips curling up in a warm smile. ‘Hi.’ He greeted, standing back up and turning towards her.

Was this just him acting like nothing was amiss, whilst his whole world was in fact crumbling? After all, he was an actor..

‘Are you..are you okay?’ Naomi asked carefully, quickly looking around her now she got a better impression of the room, her eyes almost inadvertently looking for any items Victoria may have left behind. Any sign of that she may return. But there was nothing of the sort.

She really was gone.

Henry smiled again and shook his head. ‘It’s..hmm..I think this had to happen for a very, very long time. It’s..good. Yes. Good.’

‘Okay then. So..’ Naomi quirked her head, trying to see if he was lying or hiding the truth, but not finding even a flicker of doubt in his gentle eyes. Clearing her throat she looked back into the room, her feet stepping just a meter ahead, taking in what was hiding behind those curious heavy blue drapes. A bath. Ha..of course. A bathtub in the middle of the room. Why not.

Her lips curled up in a half amused smile as she felt Henry’s presence come nearer, his eyes following her gaze.

‘Nice bath, for sure. Though the couches aren’t great. I’ve..unfortunately.. spent plenty of hours there.’ Henry grinned, pointing at a little sitting nook in the far back, making Naomi grimace at the thought that Victoria had probably made him sleep on the freaking couch.

‘She really was a treasure, wasn’t she?’ Naomi said, looking back at him and finding an amused smile on his lips, making her feel less concerned for him. He looked truly relieved. Their eyes met, bodies now far closer together, a mere meter or so left in between them. He swallowed and squared his shoulders, the already humid air feeling even more tense all of a sudden.

‘Are.. you okay, though?’ He asked, quite unexpectedly, his eyes not missing the slightly reddened eyes that Naomi sported.

‘Me? Yea...I eh..’ She frowned and suddenly felt the need to turn away from him, turn away before he’d come bursting right through the meticulously built walls around her heart. Gosh that darn ring. She should have gotten rid of it the moment she had gotten rid of her ex-husband. Sniffling her nose she quickly turned on her heel, deciding to act as if she was to inspect the bed now.

Henry frowned and followed Naomi with his gaze, seeing her shoulders stiffen as she moved towards the bed, her hand flicking over her cheek as if to wipe off some sweat - though obviously it wasn’t sweat that was leaking from her eye.

‘Is this the moment where you’re going to tell me that it’s common in Caïro for local rain showers to make their apparition indoors?’ He asked, trying to somewhat lighten the mood. Naomi laughed and turned back around, watching him with watery eyes.

Just like that her walls crumbled like they had never even existed.

‘W-w...noo. Henry. Oh come on.” She sniffled, quickly brushing away her tears. ‘It’s…’ She shrugged. ‘UGH..it’s just so fucking stupid. I was thinking about this ex of mine. And..pff..you know what, it doesn’t matter. Victoria just left and now your travel guide is in tears in your room? Ha..quite a show, aren’t we women?’

She turned back to face the bed and took a calming breath, eyes roaming over the soft Egyptian cotton sheets - she really should bring some of those sheets home -, before halting on the sight of Henry’s open suitcase. Without meaning to, her eyes fell down on a pack of condoms. Unused condoms. The box still wrapped in its original plastic wrap.  

Well. At least they both didn’t get laid this holiday.

‘From the looks of it we men don’t fair much better..’ Henry said carefully, watching Naomi’s shoulders slowly release their tension as she looked over his bed..over his suitcase..over..oh..dammit..the condoms! He forgot to hide those condoms.

Naomi didn’t really seemed to be fazed by it. ‘I’m sorry I left you like that..’ Naomi said gently, looking back at him, her eyes suddenly holding a certain fierceness. ‘That wasn’t..’ She took another deep breath. ‘That’s wasn’t right of me to do. You didn’t deserve that..’ She blinked, feeling the scorching heat of this arabian night suddenly catching up with her.

‘R..rome you mean?’ He stepped a little closer, eyes flicking for the slightest second to her lips, the air thickening with every excited beat of their fluttering hearts.

‘Yea.’

Did time just come to a halt?

‘Ugh this is silly. Do you want to talk about it?’ She asked, knowing full well that neither of them truly wanted to talk. The tension in the air was sparking so delightfully - just like it had that night - that it didn’t take an evil genius to decipher what was going on here. What was going on between them.

‘I mean if you want to.’ He tried.

‘Me? Ha..’ She breathed, blinking slowly as her body almost automatically pulled towards him, her tears long dried, the sweat beading on her heated body but an afterthought. Tonight it wasn’t too hot, too humid and nobody suffered from headaches, or periods or tiredness.

Tonight had been postponed for years now. And in this slight slip of time, where both their guards were down and nobody else was there to disturb, it felt almost natural to smile at one another, to step closer, to forget for just a moment that this was very..very..

Unprofessional.

Naomi stiffened again as Henry traced a careful finger over the back of her hand, wishing to grasp it but noticing the near immediate flinch that rushed through her body.

‘Oh this is very unprofessional of me. I’m so..so..sorr-’ - ‘Ninny.’ Henry stopped her rambling.

She blinked. ‘What did you just ..call me?’

‘Ninny.’ He smiled. A nickname. Her nickname. She blinked again, her body stepping back, needing to sit down for a moment, her legs hitting the edge of the bed as she slumped down on those ridiculously nice, soft sheets.

DARN this. What the hell was going on with her. Him?! THEM?!

‘Ninny..huh..you’re going to call me by my nickname now, hmm?’ - ‘May I not?’ He said carefully, a smile tugging at his lips. She looked up, her initial shock making place for a slightly amused grin.

‘Pff haha..oh gods Henry. Of course you may. You’re one of my best clie…-’ Her words died on her tongue once more as he moved to sit down besides her as well, his presence causing that electricity to spark in every cell of her body. And truly, Naomi was not a shy person at all. She haggled with corrupt police officers, she could tell aggressive street salesmen to piss off without a blink of the eye, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to back down from anyone who dared to speak up against her.

Not after she left her husband. She took care of herself now.

And yet...Here she was, flustered and giddy, her heart beating loudly in her chest and her whole body so aware of how close he was to her, how good he smelled.

‘Hi.’ She smiled. ‘Hi.’ Henry chuckled, turning his body slightly towards her, knees touching hers. ‘I can call you Naomi too, if you like that better.’ He said, averting his eyes from her curious gaze, his ocean blues looking back out into the room.

‘You called me Ninny on that night in Rome.’

‘I did.’

‘So I guess you’ve forgiven me for that bit of my unprofessional behavior?’ She looked back at Henry, having collected herself again. It was in the end so very comfortable talking to Henry, being with Henry. He didn’t seem to be bothered one bit by the memory of what had happened between them then.

He didn’t seem bothered at all by what was happening between them..now.

‘I think I was actually the one who made the first move there..’ Henry shrugged, teasingly looking back at her.

‘Ho..oh no you didn’t.’ She chuckled, rolling her eyes at him. ‘If I remember correctly you wished to order room service at like 2AM at night. And it took so long that I practically stole that phone from your hand...and THEN we..’

He kissed her.

The dance they had avoided for so long now was danced once more. Him, her, a flurry of arms and legs tangling into one another, the first move quickly followed by a cascade of new ones. Caressing finger tips, giddy laughter, tentative pecks on the lips, hands growing bolder, roaming, claiming, until every piece of clothing only seemed to have become an obstruction.

Shakily breathing Naomi started to tug on the white shirt Henry was wearing - for once not a blue shirt, huh? -, his lips curling in an enbolding smile, hands reaching down to help her strip him down to his bare chested glory.

‘Ha..’ She breathed, a hand immediately reaching down for his pecs, abs. He was bigger now. Bigger than the last time.

‘I can shave it if you want.’ He grinned, feeling her finger tips move through his patch of chest hair.

‘What?! No..no. absolutely no freaking way. It’s..’ She started to slowly nod her head. ‘..nice.’

He chuckled, eyes interlocking with hers as his fingertips in turn moved to her shirt, the cotton slightly sticking to her heated skin.

Not that he cared.

His eyes got more greedy, eating up every inch of skin as he pulled up the material, her breath choking in her tight chest as she reached up her arms so he could remove the obstructing piece of fabric altogether.

With tender fingers he traced the valley between her breasts, her dark blue bra thankfully semi-sexy - it wasn’t laundry day.

‘Want me to shave?’ She teased back, making him chuckle even louder.

‘No..no. Absolutely no…’ He leaned in closer, smiling against her lips. ‘..freaking..way.’ He claimed her mouth again, eager tongue begging for entrance as his hand became bolder, moving over the hills of her bosom, soft flesh hidden beneath a lacy harness.

‘Take it off.’ Naomi breathed, feeling equally annoyed with the thing, her throat sighing in great relief when Henry didn’t need to be told twice, his other hand eagerly reaching back and unclasping it with a flick of his fingers. Practised fingers.

‘I fucking missed Rome.’ Henry muttered, dipping his head down to sniff a long stripe up her swan-like neck.

‘Did you now?’

‘Why else did you think I hired you?’ He smirked, pulling back ever so slightly.

‘And bring the girlfriend just in case?’

FUCK..she should NOT have said that. Naomi gasped quietly, biting her lip as Henry raised an eyebrow.

‘Ouch.’ He chuckled.

‘Oh gods..I should not have said that.’ Naomi uttered.

‘Ninny. Please. You are more than allowed to make such a comment. I mean. Yes. I brought along a woman I already knew, full well, would not be in my life for much longer. Like all those women before her.’ He sighed, his smile becoming slightly more watery.

He had been hurt a lot of times.

‘I’m just terrible at choosing a woman who is right for me.’

Naomi sighed and shook her head, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. ‘And I AM the right woman for you, hmm?’ She chuckled.

‘Oh well..I guess I have to admit that I did in fact have a little crush on you. And…’ He raised his shoulders slightly.

‘What?’

‘The stretching session didn’t help. Much.’

‘Ah! You! Cheeky monkey!’

‘Hahaha..more like a cheeky bear, right?’ He winked, using the moment to push Naomi’s back flat on the bed, his body moving on top of hers, arms and legs caging her beneath him.

‘I did call you Bear, huh?’

‘Yea..’

‘Ninny and the Bear.’

‘Quite romantic..’ Henry smiled, his fangs shining in the low light as he looked down upon Naomi, her blond locks fanned prettily around her head. ‘..oh I could actually light some candles..talking romantic.’ He sat up slightly, but was immediately pulled back, head now dipping down as Naomi eagerly tugged on his curly locks.

‘Henry. Another time, okay? Please..just…’ She bit her lip.

‘What’s that?’ He teased.

‘You know what.’

‘Do I now?’

‘UGH.’ She rolled her eyes and tried to pull him down. Unsuccessfully so, because he was too strong, his pecs flexing ever so slightly as he tightened his arms to stay on all fours above her. ‘..just fuck me already. Leave the romance for later..please?’

Henry lifted a teasing eyebrow, but was not going to decline such an invitation, his lips quick to press back down on hers.

In mere seconds the hot arabian night brought with it a new memory that was written in the soft embrace of egyptian cotton. Bodies colliding, dancing, writhing, those condoms finally unpacked, as was their emotional baggage after evading feelings and needs at either end of their finger tips for so long.

‘Henry, stop stalling.’ Naomi growled, feeling his eyes on her as she lay face first, ass up on the bed.

‘Are you in a hurry, milady?’ He purred, slowly crawling on top of her, his weight pressing her down further in the mattress, in the silky soft sheets. ‘Mmpfff..no..it’s just..a few years of waiting..you know.’

‘Ah..’ He breathed with a chuckle, playfully nibbling on the shell of her ear. ‘I’m sorry to keep you waiting then.’

And with that said, he finally, finally claimed what was his, their mingled moans echoing off the sweating walls, the lights dancing along with their body song as he pressed on, in.

‘Oh bear.’ Naomi growned, her aching walls finally soothed.

It may have been years of waiting, but every second had been worth the way he stretched her out, the way he fit perfectly to her body, their hands entangling and hips writhing. Rolling sharply the crescendo of his hip thrusts reminded her just why she had called him bear.

Because where her ex-husband would have been a lazy, selfish prick. Henry? Henry was a big, burly carebear, perfectly balancing between a tender lover and ruthless beast, strong beyond compare. And as he crashed into her hips, filling her ache, burning her skin with that itchy patch of hair - which he definitely shouldn’t shave -, she was happy.

--

‘What are you smiling at, huh?’ Henry stopped his hip thrusts for a moment, looking down in Naomi’s broadly smiling face, the soft London morning light trickling in, caressing the feather light cotton sheets beneath her blond locks.

‘Mmm..nothing. Just thinking about how much I love these sheets.’ She teased, making him quirk an eyebrow, hip jerking in her to punish her for her little tease, her lips “o”-ing with a little gasp. ‘The sheets? Really?’

‘Uh-huh.’ She snickered, feeling him dip down and bite down on the tender skin of her neck, tickling her with his slightly out-grown week old beard. She chuckled, arms and legs wrapping around him, pulling him closer to her so she could whisper in his ear.

‘Six-hundred thread count, extra long fibres, and the more you use them..the ..HAHAHAH..no..the better..HENRY STOP..HAHAHAH. The better they feel.’

‘Mrrrwpfff.’ Henry growled biting down on her laughing lips, his teeth catching her bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue, their mouths entangling in a sensual slow dance, their hips quite naturally following in a slow, erotic rut.

‘Very good sheets.’ Naomi whispered, causing Henry to gasp in unbelief, his chest thundering with an even louder growl, his lips attacking her every reachable patch of skin, marking her, his cock making sure she’d feel him even long after this little morning session was over.

Naomi gasped and swooned beneath her bear’s administrations, her lips parted and her brow slightly sweaty. Just like that night. And many nights after that night. And mornings? Mornings too. And afternoons? Oh, you get the jest..

She smiled, fingers tangling through Henry’s curls as his lips hesitated, hovering above hers, his deep blue eyes searching hers.

‘Then again..’ She sighed, smiling. ‘..the sheets just can’t compare..to you.’ Her little confession made him smile, honestly, his life now calm and easy-going, their love a tale that was told with luxurious kisses, wrapped in the silkiest of Egyptian, 600-thread count cotton sheets.

--

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[unmaskedagain]

The Fast and Furious Times Of Marinette

Today I found a wonderful tag called Bio Dad AU. Best ones by @musicfeedsmysoul12 . I decided to try a quick hand at it. Weirdly enough, my first thought was the Fast and The Furious. I was a huge fan of serious before Paul Walker died. Brian O'Conner was always my favorite. This is the first fast and furious anything I’ve ever written. I’ve decided it takes place AFTER Fast 6; meaning they all got their pardons. But in this AU. Both SHAWs are alive and well and friends with the team for reason. Brian and Mia are not and have never been together. No offense, but if I’m writing a Fast and Furious fic Dom and Brian are the pairing and will be my OTP.

This is again just a quick fic.  A PURE CRACK FIC, so be warned. Might not doing anything more with it.

On with the CRACK. 

Marinette is eight-years-old when her racist grandfather tells that Tom isn’t her dad. Marinette had already been one-years-old by the time Sabine met him.

She doesn’t believe it at first but then she looks in the mirror and sees her blue, blue eyes. No one her family has eyes like hers. Then she really looks at the picture of her and her dad together realizes they don’t look alike at all. It’s not even because Marinette is biracial. There is little to no resemblance.

Her parents find her crying on her bedroom floor, clutching her phone to her chest. They are quick to try to comfort her, try to find out what’s wrong, and when they finally come her down enough for her to speak, Marinette looks at the time with big sad eyes and just asks, “Are you, my dad?”

Sabine and Tom are stunned at first, then her question hits them, and realization slowly inches onto their faces. And its all the answer Marinette needs.

Tom loves the little girl he raised so much and as much as he wished he wasn’t her biological father, “In every way that counts I am,” He assures his little girl, “Except blood. But I am your dad. You are my daughter.”

Sabine apologizes for withholding the truth for so long, “We were a family. I was scared,” She admits.

Cue huge family hug.

A few days go by before Marinette has the courage to ask about her biological father, “Who was he?” She suddenly asked. “My father?” The question caused Sabine to stumble and cause an entire cake to hit Tom in the face.

“His name is Brian,” Sabine said as she handed Marinette an old picture of a young sabine with a handsome blonde man with startling blue eyes, Marinette’s eyes, at a food truck near palm trees. “Brian O’Conner. I met him on a beach in LA. I thought he had a serial killer name. He was wild and beautiful, and so free. You’re a lot like him. You have his eyes and his smile. And his heart.”

           Marinette stared at the man in the picture, wondering if he too was clumsy if he was the reason she loved to go fast too because she liked to go really, really fast on her bike if he was where she got her daringness, her need to the right thing. “Does he know about me?”

“No,” Her mom answered, “I had already left for Paris by the time I found out. I didn’t want to upheave his life.” Truthfully, she didn’t know how to tell her daughter that her biological father had been a street racer, on the run from the police and spent quite a bit of time in hiding.

           It took an hour after Sabine left Marinette along with the picture for the young girl to get angry. Who was this man? What was so important about his life that her mother wouldn’t dare wreck. Marinette was going to find out.

           It took some time but with a little research and luck, Marinette was able to find Brian was still in L.A.

           Marinette bought a plane ticket using her mom’s credit card, packed a bag, left a note for parents, and left in the middle of the night on a flight to Los Angeles. It had been tricky. Some people asked questions but Marinette just she was visiting her dad in the U.S. She was glad her mom made her learn English as a second language, though now it was obvious as to why.

           It took a few hours and had taken a lot different buses, but Marinette found herself standing in front of a white house that was erupting with noise.

“A party?” Marinette asked quietly.

           The bluenette swallowed hard and fought the urge to run away. She had come too far. Ignored too many of her parents’ phone calls to back down. She just texted then every day that she was okay and that she would be home soon.

           Marinette rang the doorbell.

           A tall, bald, handsome, laughing black man answered the door. He nodded at the young girl, “Can I help you?” Girl scout, he thought.

           Marinette clutched the strap of her pink bag, “Is Brian O’Connor here?”

           Rome’s eyes squinted as he surveyed the girl and then he noticed her eyes. He knew those eyes. The biggest smile spread over his face. “This gonna be good,” He said. “Name’s Roman. Or Rome. Come on inside, my new favorite person in the world.”

           Marinette followed the man into the house. She was right. There was a loud, movie-worthy party going on. The music was loud, strange people were dying. She felt more than a little weary and a little claustrophobic.  She looked around but didn’t see who she was looking for.

           One by one the guest of the party noticed the little girl in pink with pigtails in the room. The music slowly died down. A scary bald man, in a dark wife-beater, with a beer (Corona, Marinette read) and had been laughing with a scruffy breaded man when she entered the room, slowly lost his smile when he noticed her.

           He was possibly the scariest man Marinette had never laid eyes on.

“YO Brian,” Roman yelled, the smile still huge on his face. “You got company!”

           All eyes turned to her. The scary man got out of his seat and stared at her.

“Oh this can’t be good,” Taj said to Suki, who nodded.

           Again Marinette fought the urge to run. She glanced at the floor and bit her lip.

“What’s up, man?” A new voice called which caused her to look back up.

           Marinette’s breath caught in her throat a blond man with a case of beers in his hand entered the room. He had aged but he was still as handsome as his picture. Her eyes suddenly stung.

           Roman waved at hand from Brian to Marinette.

           Brian looked at the girl who, to him, didn’t look much older than seven or eight, maybe. Was she lost? Did she need his help? “Can I help you?”

           Heads swerved to the girl.

“Do you remember a woman named Sabine Cheng?” Marinette asked, feeling braver at the mentioned of her mother. “She is my mother.”

           Heads swerved back to Brian. Particularly Dom’s who at a sneaking suspicion about what the hell was going on.

           Brian’s head was suddenly filled with a beautiful laughing Asian girl, with kind eyes and a don’t fuck with my personality. She had fierce and amazing. Brian had been a little disappointed when Sabine had left for France. Which explained the little girl accent. He hadn’t seen Sabine in what… seven years. A little longer.

           His blue eyes’ widened. The beers slipped from his hands and crashed hard onto the floor. “Fuck!”

That was all anyone needed to know exactly what was going on.

“This some Maury shit,” Vince said and took a swallow from here.

           Letty nodded, “You are the father.” Those eyes did not lie.

The girl’s blue eyes, his eyes, widened and she took a hasty step back when the beers crashed and shattered onto the floor. “I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have come,” She quickly said. “I’m sorry. I-”

She just wanted to meet him. She needed to meet him. Finding out her dad wasn’t really her dad, dad. Marinette just needed to do something.

Tears welled up in her eyes. Marinette turned for the door.

“That’s enough!” A strong voice said. Marinette turned to see the scary man looking directly at her. “Everyone who isn’t family out. Party’s over. You,” Dom pointed at Marinette, “Stay there.”

           There were grumbles from the party guests as they left. But Marinette was surprised just how many people stayed.

“Name’s Dom,” The terrifying guy introduced.

“Marinette,” She said back. “Do you ever lose that scary look on your face.”

“No,” Taj said. “No, he doesn’t” Dom glared at him. “That just makes it worse.”

           Brian shoved a hand through his hair. He was shaking. “Are you?” He asked. “I mean, do you like? Daughter?” He managed.

“Translation: You his kid?” Rome smirked.

           Brian nodded frantically.  Yes, that’s what he meant.

“I found out a few days ago,” Marinette shrugged. “Mom told me about you.”

“I didn’t know,” Brian suddenly blurted out. “I never knew. I swear. I’d have never. I would never. I mean, you know. I’d want to.”

“He didn’t about you,” Roman translated. “He’d never walked out on his kid.”

           Dom looked over the small, French, Asian girl who shared his husband’s eyes. There were more similarities than the obvious one; her nose, her cheekbones. There was no doubt it. Brian was a father.

           And shit, that meant Dom was a stepfather.

“So what?” Letty asked, not unkindly. “Your mom tells you about Brian and just drops you off here?”

           Marinette blushed and looked down again. It set off red flags in everyone’s head. “She doesn’t know…” She admitted. “I left her a note though!” She added.

Roman leaned against the wall. “You find out about Brian, decided what the hell, ditch Paris and run off to a California to find him, with just a note to your Ma.” He snorted. “That’s your kid, alright.”

“Shut up,” Brian hissed. He pinched his nose. “Call your mom.”

“No.”

“She needs to know your alright,” Brian insisted.

“She will,” Marinette promised. “After we talk.”

           Brian crossed his eyes and looked sternly at… his daughter, “This isn’t a negotiation.”

           Marinette crossed her arms, “Wanna bet?”

           Blue eyes and Blue eyes glared at each other. Making the resemblance between the two even more clear as, much to the occupants of the room dismay, stubbornness was inherited.

           Dom just sighed. This was going to be his life now. At least he’ll get a laugh out of watching Brian deal with a mini Brian. Stubborn, reckless, little shit that he was; he deserved a little krama.

           An hour later, it was clear Marinette had won. She got the talk she wanted. And found out some things about her new Papa. He was married to the scary guy, had been around the world, had been a cop. Loved cars. The people in the house were all family.

“Call me Uncle Rome,” Roman introduced. “I’m the reason your dad lived long enough to have you.

“Mia,” A pretty kind woman with long dark hair said, “Dom’s sister. He’s great when you get to know him.”

“Letty,” A fierce woman said.

           After that, there was Taj, Vince, Suki, Han, and quite a few others that made her head spin trying to remember them.

           Then she called her parents. They were not happy. Then Brian got on the phone to speak with her mom. He left the room.

           Within minutes there was yelling. A lot of yelling. When Brian came back, he looked angry and somewhat relieved. “You’re staying for the summer,” He told her. “We’re going to get to know each other. “You have to call home. Every. Day. Your mom will send some of your stuff.”

           The next day, Marinette and Dom found themselves sitting across from each other at the breakfast table. A protectiveness had grown in Dom over the night. Because he realized if this was Brian’s daughter, then it was his daughter.

           There was a living, breathing kid he was now responsible for too.

           Dom sat across from her and briefly wondered Mia kept any of her old barbies. And if that would be insulting to offer them to the girl. “How old are you?” He asked her.

“Eight,” She answered shyly.

           Not barbies then. Boys, then. Mia got into boys just about her age. Oh god, he can’t deal with boys right now. He’d go back to prison.

“How long have you and Papa been married?”

“Almost six years,” He answered.

“Why don’t you have kids?” She asked brightly. “Did you want kids?”

           It was a trap. Dom knew it. Brian liked to do the same thing. “We want you.”

           She smirked, “Nice answer.”

           Brian came in with plates full of pancakes a few seconds later. Marinette was pleased t see hers had a smily face.

“I was thinking we could go to the beach today,” The blond said. “Get to know each other more.” He nodded to his husband. “As a family.”

           And so they did.

           Marinette spent the entire summer with her Papa and Pops (Dom) and her newfound family, and every summer after. Through them she got into mechanics and cars. Though she still developed a love for fashion. She met a fascinating man named Shaw, and his brother, who taught her how to fight. She met a lioness of a woman named Monica and her husband Carter Verone who just taught her how to be scary.

           It was just after she turned thirteen, and she became Ladybug, did Marinette forget just how protective her family was.

           It was Sunday. There was a family barbeque. Everyone was there. Marinette was in the kitchen helping Mia clean up when she got a text from Luka. (Adrien was so not her type. Thanks to Letty, Monica, Mia, Suki, she developed a rather fierce nature and decided she’d only date guys with a backbone.) She didn’t realize as she texted back than a dreamy expression appeared on her face, because… well, Luka.

“Who you texting?” Letty asked with an eyebrow raised.

           Marinette blushed, “No one.” She hissed back.

“Does no one have a name?” Mia smiled.

           Marinette looked down, “Luka.”

“Who the fuck Luka?” Vince yelled, having overheard the conversation. “Dom you know your kid’s got some boy textin her?”

           There was a crash. A few crashes actually.

           Dom stomped in, grabbed Marinette’s phone, “NO!” he said and walked off.

           Marinette groaned. She hoped this wouldn’t be the surfer boy from down the street all over again. His family had to move.

           It was a year, and one accidentally overseen transformation did her family find out she was a superhero named Ladybug and had been fighting a terrorist for almost two years. It didn’t take long to find online videos of all her rights. Of how many times she had nearly died.

           Brian seethed in anger, unable to speak.

           Hobbs and Monica just nodded at each other. Each texting their agency of what had been taking place in Paris. Apparently, the mayor had been hiding it to prevent tourism from declining.

           Deckard Shaw was torn. On one hand, he was proud of his niece. She had handled herself well. On other hand that some of bitch Hawkmoth had to pay. No one fucked with his family. Mask or now, magical powers or not, Shaw going to find him.

               And who the hell let a teenage girl be Superhero? With not nearly enough training. That asshole was gonna pay too.

           Dom just sat his beer down, his eyes still trained on the image of Hawkmoth on the TV, the son of a bitch who had tried to kill his kid, who terrorized a bunch of school children, and all of Paris. and said, “Oh, it’s on.”

           The Fast and Furious team was going to Paris.

[marauder-level-chaos]

You are the best side of me. Chapter Two

Dark Alec fic. An evil warlock was trying to attack Magnus and Alec so Alec tried to go after her but things didn't go as planned. She glamored a demon to look like Alec in order to get closer to Magnus. Let’s see how long it takes Magnus to figure out that Alec isn’t actually Alec. Here is the Masterlist if you want to check out other chapters.

Warnings: Dark! Alec, angst, slight canon divergence, swearing, dramatic irony

A/N: So I decided to change things around. This is just Magnus’ POV because Alec is being held captive so that’s not going to be too interesting. Plus with Magnus I can fuck around with dramatic irony. My AO3: malecplusotherthings.

It had been a few days since Alexander had come back from that demon hunt and Magnus was getting increasingly worried. Alec hadn’t been eating or sleeping properly. Magnus didn’t know what had happened with the demon that night, but he was determined to find out. He spent his day cooking a magnificent dinner for his husband. Sure, he could have just magic-ed some French delicacies from a Parisian bakery but he knew how much Alec enjoyed home cooked food (unless it’s Isabelle’s). On the table, Magnus set out candles and flowers and Italian wine, mimicking the date they had in Rome a few years ago. Alec’s favorite date. Magnus even wore the soft grey and baby blue suit he wore that day. 

By the time Alec got home, everything looked exactly as it did that day. It was clear from his expression of shock and confusion that Magnus had done a good job of surprising his husband. He smiled as he took Alec’s hand in his and led him to the dining table.

“What’s all this?” Alec asked, as he began eating his dinner. Magnus frowned, unsure if he had missed something in this recreation of their date. It wasn’t like Alec to not recognize the suit he had admired on Magnus so many times before.

“I recreated your favorite date, love. The one from Rome.” Alec seemed to smile a little at that.

“Of course, Mags. What I meant was why? What’s all this for?”

“Well, you’ve been a little stressed lately, so I thought this would be a nice surprise.”

“Oh, Magnus, I-I’m sorry. I wanted to call it an early night tonight. Jace and I are patrolling early tomorrow. I really am sorry.” Alec got up and kissed Magnus softly before heading to bed. Magnus sighed to himself, and quietly followed his husband. As he lay down next to Alec, his worries subsided and sleep took over.

It was around midnight when Magnus woke up. He bolted upright when he saw that Alec’s side of the bed was empty. He frowned as he slid on a night robe and rubbed his sleepy eyes.

“Alec?” Magnus called out. At the lack of a response, he quietly slid out of bed. He noticed that the kitchen door was left slightly ajar and there was light coming out of that room. As Magnus got closer, he could hear voices: a male and a female. Almost immediately, he recognized the male voice as Alec’s. As for the female voice, there was something familiar about that but he couldn’t quite tell.

“It’s working perfectly. Magnus Bane is going to have no idea what hit him. Literally.” Alec said.

“And you’re sure he suspects nothing? It is imperative that he thinks you are who you say you are.”

“Don’t worry Madam Rose. Everything is as you expect it to be.” Of course. Iris Rose. He peeked in slightly to see Iris standing in his kitchen in projection form.

“Good. You have done your job well, Demon. We can begin the next phase as soon as I take care of the real Alec Lightwood.” And suddenly, everything made sense. The reason Magnus had been feeling as though there was something different with Alec was because this wasn’t, in fact, his Alexander. His Alexander was trapped somewhere with Iris and Magnus would be damned if he let that stupid bitch touch a hair on Alec’s head. He barged into the room, his eyes a dangerous shade of yellow. Immediately, he threw the demon against the wall. Before he had a chance to get to Iris’ projection, she was gone.

Taglist (Let me know if you want to be added or removed):

@thatwinchestergirl67 @quickbright @julialightbane @textrovert-01

[revengeisalwaysanoption]

A little something for @busybeingmakebelieve, hoping that IG prompt will become a longer fic <3 The quote in bold comes from prompt #57 on Maritombola 11 ****************************** What. The. Fuck. Abort mission. Drop the phone on sofa, face down, and maybe everything will go back to normal. The direct messages and the follow back from 'gotnoshame' will be gone, when he picks it up again. What a fitting username, by the way, with all those shirtless pictures in his gallery and the Instagram stories from the gym. Damn. He was never supposed to get into this so deep. Marti had followed that account to have something actually interesting to look at on his feed, instead of Margot the cat or Luchino's culinary adventures. Unexpectedly, however, the guy wasn't just hot. He could draw, he was a decent singer - though his music tastes were questionable... Cremonini's 'Buon Viaggio', really? - and often shared interesting insights on a lot of different topics. Literature, movies and TV shows, politics. Current events all around the world, sensitive issues such as LGBT rights and mental health. Helpful advice on how to take care of yourself when your brain wasn't cooperating, but also some tips for the people around you. Words that made Martino try harder to be there for his mum, even though he still struggled.

Little by little, he had become a comforting presence in Marti's life. One he couldn't do without. Which was stupid, since he didn't know a single thing about him apart from the fact that he was hot, sharp witted and kind hearted. He found himself wishing he knew a lot more about the person behind 'gotnoshame'. After a whole day of reading through the comments and exploring the profiles of people who had tagged him, all he had managed to get were a name and a location. Nico, from Rome. Sweet and cheeful Nico, who seemed to be quite a tormented soul behind those megawatts smiles. If the last quote he had shared was anything to go by, of course. "I, myself, am made entirely of flaws, stitched together with good intentions.” (Augusten Burroughs) It didn't feel right to 'hear' him talk about himself in such a derogatory manner, so he sent him a direct message. What was he thinking? "Oi! The video of you playing the piano that you posted earlier really made my day, so please refrain from being so negative about yourself." "Yessir. Glad I could be of service. Anything else?"  He had answered, in a matter of a few minutes. "Actually, I promise I'll try to be more positive on one condition." "Let's hear it." "You actually using Instagram, my dear 'mr220501'. I mean, how can anyone have just a couple of photos of themselves when they look so fine?" Shit. Marti hadn't noticed a new follower on his poor excuse for an Instagram profile. He wouldn't even have one, if it hadn't been for his friends' well-intentioned pestering. When finally dares to look at the screen again, the messages are still there and the '????' 'Did I scare you off?' 'I didn't mean to, I'm sorry.' that have been added afterwards make him feel a bit guilty about taking so long to answer.

"Well, by not being raging narcissist, I guess?" He regrets it as soon as he sends it. He's trying to say that he'd feel like a self-centered asshole if he filled his own profile with selfies, not that Nico is to blame for doing that.  He quickly types that out, before he can be misunderstood."Not that you're one. Anyway, you got yourself a deal: more selfies from me, less negativity from you. I'm Martino, by the way."

"Niccolò, but you can call me Nico ;) ... you can come by and hear me play live, if you'd like, once we get to know each other better." He's a bit surprised at how fast things are moving between them, but he can't say that he minds too much.

"Do you flirt so shamelessly with all your followers?" "Only with my cutest one ;)” He scoffes at the phone, feeling his cheeks getting all red and hot. So much for not taking this too seriously. He could really fall for this guy. He probably already has. Fuck.

[momostodoroki]

»wanna find you there (wanna hold on tight)«

sooooo remember how i wrote a reveal fic about ten thousand years ago, and then a bunch of minifics to go with it??? well this is the direct sequel and also end of the series hahaha been a while hasn’t it???

anyway this work belongs to the oblivious dorks in love series and can be found also on ao3

without further ado, here it is:

-

Panic arises in Chat Noir’s chest as he witnesses his lady take care of the akuma.

This was not the way she was supposed to know. He wasn’t supposed to tell her out of desperation, but with his luck it really isn’t a surprise. His stomach churns in both anguish and relief: the secret was eating away at his feelings and now that the cat is literally out of the bag -or rather, inside the ring-, it’s as if a weight has lifted off of his shoulders. On the other hand, he dreads to see what Marinette’s reaction will be like when she finally has time to process everything. Which, speaking of, shouldn’t be very long now.

Will she be happy? Will she love him back? Or will she completely spurn him?

He stands behind her as she throws the lucky charm into the air, more Adrien than ever even though he’s dressed in his superhero suit. As the miraculous cure that sweeps over the school heals the graze on his face and brings the akumatized teacher back to normal, he can almost feel the last seconds of normality with his Lady running out between his fingers.

After she’s reassured the teacher, Ladybug turns back to him. With his heart on his hand, or more accurately on his fist, Chat Noir raises his arm for their customary fist bump, but his partner ignores him. She is all fiery eyes and tight lips as she takes his wrist and drags him away before he can even try to protest.

She jumps and jumps and jumps until they’re far enough away that the Eiffel tower is needle thin on the horizon, both of their transformations wearing off as they land on top of a trashcan in a deserted alley. When Marinette turns around to glare at him, Adrien feels the tight ball of panic in his chest drop down to churn in the pit of his stomach.

“Y-you knew!” she accuses, her face a lovely shade of pink that almost makes him forget the less-than-ideal circumstance he’s in. “You knew and you… I talked to you!” she exclaims, letting go of his wrist to cover her mouth with her hands, eyes wide with a mixture of terror and realization. “I talked to you about you!”

Adrien reaches out to touch her, but Marinette steps back. There’s fear in her eyes and even though his heart is leaping out of his chest and running towards her, he can’t do the same, he can’t bring himself to touch her when she’s so clearly backing away from him. His mind races with the millions of things he wants to say (I’m sorry I love you I didn’t want you to find out like this Please don’t reject me You’re wonderful I need you Marinette Marinette Marinette) but the words push each other in his throat and only manage to make a knot that feels almost impossible to swallow.

“M-Marinette-”

“I trusted you! And you… did you follow me?” she asks, her gaze trained on him in a way it has never been before. “Is that h-how you found out?”

“No! Marinette…” he groans. This is no place to be having this conversation. He’s too emotional and his face is all over Paris and there are people walking outside the alley; he doesn’t even think they’re still on the 21st arrondissement. Marinette is expecting answers that he’s been waiting three months to give, and his chances of still having a chance (ha!) with Marinette after all of this become slimmer with every second he wastes standing there looking at her. “Plagg, transform me.”

“There’s no cheese!” the kwami whines from inside his shirt. Marinette is looking curiously at him, her apprehension dwindling slightly at the sight of Plagg. Adrien sighs, rubbing his cheek with the heel of his hand.

“You’ve rested, it’ll be quick, and I will get you three wheels of camembert if you do this.” Plagg crosses his little arms as if considering it, but Adrien doesn’t give him a chance to. “Transform me!” he yells, and with a jolt of electricity, he’s Chat Noir once again. He hears Marinette squeak as she reaches to cover her eyes. “Don’t” He pleads, gingerly stopping her hands with his own. “No one has ever seen me for who I am.”

What he says must strike a chord within her, because her eyes stay on him even though she pulls her hands away almost immediately -Adrien tries not to think about the jolt of energy he felt even through the indestructible material of his suit. Running a hand through his hair, he takes a deep breath.

“I know you want answers, and I-I really want to talk to you, Marinette.” Adrien says, voice a lot calmer than he feels. There’s a revolution going on within his chest that he struggles to keep in line, like an outnumbered one-man army. “But this is no place to do it. My dad’s on a trip to Rome, l-let’s go to my house. We can talk in my room.”

His cheeks pink as he utters the offer, but he stands by it. His partner looks conflicted for a minute, but eventually her desire for answers wins over her reluctance to be alone with him.

“Fine.” She mutters, nodding. “But I’m going on my own.” Then she turns around and starts walking out of the alley. Adrien daringly takes her by the arm so as to stop her.

“Marinette, your kwami is exhausted. You wiped out the akuma almost by yourself. You can’t transform, and you took us out of our district. Just let me carry you.”

She looks ready and willing to obliterate him in that instant, but says nothing as he reaches out to hold her while touching her as little as possible -which is obviously an impossible thing to do if he doesn’t want to drop her, so he shrugs and just hoists her up.

Can always blame it on my social skills later he thinks. As expected, between the trip home and the time it takes him to orientate himself in that side of Paris, it takes Chat Noir almost fifteen minutes to get home and push the always-slightly open window on his lookout to leave Marinette inside his room, muttering a quick “I’ll be back” before detransforming half a block away from his house, playing the scared, lost kid as he runs up to the Gorilla.

When he’s finally in his room again, Plagg shoots out of his pocket towards the general direction of his hidden stash of camembert, knowing full well that Adrien will be too preoccupied to keep him from finishing it -as well as wanting no part in the conversation.

Her kwami soon follows him, ignoring his offering to get her something else and urging him to talk to Marinette.

Marinette, who is standing by his window looking like she wants to strangle him. There's an irredeemably teenaged part of Adrien that is giddy at the thought of having the girl he likes standing in his bedroom, but most of him is struggling to organize his thoughts. He only has one chance to save his relationship with Marinette, and this is it.

"I will only wait until Tikki is feeling better." she says. Adrien doesn't think she has seen her this angry since his first day of school. Her anger pinks her cheeks and brighten her eyes and he wishes, desperately, that she were not so attractively distracting as he's trying to explain himself to her.

He sits on the armrest of his couch, patting the space beside him so his lady can sit. Marinette looks for all the world like she would prefer to jump out of the window, but instead concedes to sit on the opposite end of the couch.

“I…”he starts, “I didn’t mean to find out. Do you remember the time you twisted your ankle on patrol?” Marinette’s eyes widen. Adrien thinks she can remember very well. “Well, I left you back at that alley, right? And then I left, but the next day I had a photoshoot, and I remember it well because père scolded me for oversleeping -but I would be late to patrol, so I went back to tell you. It was only a moment, but when I got there, you were transforming back.”

-

Marinette is going to kill him.

Her twisted ankle happened months ago. Adrien has had not one or two, but three months to tell her that he found out her identity, and instead, he let an akuma force his hand. She is positively livid.

She can understand needing time to reconcile the two identities, but there just is no excuse for the deceiving. The boy spent months both ignoring and visiting her, talking to her, letting her tell him her darkest fears and greatest hopes -most of them about him-, all the while giving her the cold shoulder at school. Marinette feels like her entire face is going to fall off in mortification.

All this time. How he must have laughed at my expense. She thinks. There is a traitorous part of her that defends him, that says that isn’t like her Adrien, that there must be an explanation. But how could he let her talk to Chat Noir about Adrien? How could he hear her wax poetics about him and not tell her she was talking to the very same boy? Oh, how she wishes the earth could swallow her whole.

“That was three months ago.” She says when he fails to continue his explanation. “Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you at least hint that you knew? And you… you’ve been at my house! All this time,” her voice rising as her anger takes hold of her body. “and I made you a beanbag! I trusted you! I-I..”

“I’m sorry!” he pleads, a trembling in his mouth that she doesn’t want to see. She hates that she still loves him, that she wants to hold and reassure him just as much as she wants to strangle him with her yo-yo. He does not get to do this. “I’m sorry Marinette. I don’t know how many times I have to say it, but I’ll beg for your forgiveness for as long as I have to. I didn’t want to lie, you know me. It’s me, my Lady. I wanted so badly to tell you b-but…”

“What, Chat?”

“At first, it was hard to reconcile Ladybug with Marinette.” Adrien admits, looking at his shoes. The knot in her chest tightens, because that’s it. That’s why he didn’t say anything. She always knew Marinette wasn’t as good as Ladybug, and she had always been fine with that, but hearing her crush, her partner saying it makes it so much worse. “But then I-“

“You don’t have to say anything else.” Marinette says, all the fight gone out of her, bluebell eyes obscured by her fringe. She wants to cry so badly, but she will not do it in front of him. “I’ve heard enough. Tikki, transform me.”

-

This has to be a nightmare.

Even in his worst ones, Adrien couldn’t have imagined this moment going so badly. As his Lady’s kwami zips in from wherever it was hiding, Marinette is engulfed in a pink light, then Ladybug stands before him. He realizes this is the first time he has ever seen her transform into Ladybug. He wishes it was under happier circumstances.

She’s leaving, and Adrien can’t in good conscience stop her. He can’t ever ask her to do anything for him in good conscience, hasn’t for the last three months. But she’s transformed and she hasn’t heard anything about him falling in love with her all over again, hasn’t given him the chance to tell her how he admires her strength and confidence and the way her eyes will shine brighter when she puts her mind to something. He hasn’t even begun to organize his thoughts to explain how he’s always wanted to kiss her and how he’s been so close the past three months that he thought he could die. He’s not even mentioned the closet full of gifts he’s bought her because he wants her to have everything she could ever want and then some.

“Please, Mari- my Lady, no. I’m not-“

“I’ve heard as much as I needed, Adrien.” She cuts. There’s a coldness in her tone that he’s only ever heard her use with Chloe. “I’m going home.”

Then she throws her yo-yo and goes out the window, leaving him behind. She can’t know, and now he can’t tell her, but she takes the entirety of his heart with her.

-

“Girl, what’s going on?” Alya asks, a week later.

Marinette hates that she can’t tell her. She wants Alya to hold her, to comfort her and to tell Adrien to throw himself off the Arc de Triomphe. She knows her friend wouldn’t even bat an eyelash to do it – but she would risk everything. She doesn’t believe that Alya, lovely Alya who is the most caring, most supportive friend anyone could ever have, would ever give her away. But at the end of the day, she’s protecting her by not telling her. Marinette needs to keep doing that, even if it means she has to process her heartbreak on her own.

“I’ve just had a bad week.” She murmurs, pushing a pencil around. She’s on time for maybe the first time in a month, and it just so happens to be the day Adrien will be missing school because of a photoshoot. She supposes she might have some luck after all.

“A bad week?” Her best friend repeats, incredulous. “You’ve had Adrien tripping over himself to get you to talk to him ALL week. Last time I checked, that was the equivalent of winning the lottery for you! Instead, you’ve clearly been high key ignoring him! What on earth is up with you?”

Marinette has been preparing all week for this. She even wrote a list of bullet points on the things she would say should Alya ask anything: she’s over Adrien, he overstepped his boundaries and she’s still not ready to talk about it. Marinette knows Alya is the best reporter there is, but she also knows that she’s the best friend in the world, and she won’t pry until she is sure it’s okay.

Luckily, the arrival of Mlle. Bustier saves her, and she gets away with a ‘this-isn’t-over’ look from her best friend.

-

Adrien might actually go insane.

He’s done everything he can to talk to Marinette: approached her at school, stopped over by her house only to be told she’s not feeling well and given apology cookies from her mom, even visited the gym where she trains with Kim and Ivan. All in vain, for she will not see him. At school, she only replies if she absolutely has to, and everywhere else she is a wall. Adrien has spent much of his life alone, but he doesn’t think he’s ever been ignored.

And it hurts. Doubly so, because it is undeniably his fault. He knows how candid Marinette is, how straightforward his lady always presents herself – and he still went out and lied to her. But if she would just let him explain – if he could at least confess and be rejected, then okay. It would still hurt, but he’d be able to move on. Maybe. Someday.

So, in a last-resort attempt, he transforms for the first time in a week, dashing across the rooftops towards his lady’s balcony. He finds it deserted, deck chairs and beanbag lonely under the moonlight. He knocks on the trapdoor, knowing Marinette will know it’s him and hoping, begging to whatever power moves the strings of the world to please, please let her hear him out.

But his luck is, as always, nefarious. There is nothing out there rooting for him, and it lets him know through silence. He crouches outside the trapdoor for a lifetime, finding patterns in the worn wood as he lets his thoughts take over. There’s a voice in his head that tells him she will never forgive him, and he is terrified of that being true. Terrified of never having her smile at him again and of never being able to hold her hand in his.

Give it some time, says a voice in his head, suspiciously reminiscing of Plagg’s. She’ll come around. And for his sanity, he really hopes she does.

-

The night Chat Noir visits her balcony, Marinette sleeps in her chaise.

She does this because she knows she wouldn’t be strong enough to hold back from opening the trapdoor and spending yet another stupid night listening to him, hearing him give her empty apologies. And how could she do that to herself? How could she let him fool her again after he deceived her for so long?

Marinette is so angry. She feels like her anger is going to tear her apart and she hates that. She is not a resentful person, she doesn’t hold grudges for long, not even for Chloe. She wants to move past this and mend bridges with Adrien and be friends even if his very existence breaks her heart, but no matter how she tries, she can’t. Every time she takes a deep breath and resolves to put it behind her, she remembers the nights spent on her rooftop, talking about nothing but especially about everything and she cannot believe he betrayed her like that. She cries and rages and feels as though a volcano were perpetually erupting inside her chest, and no matter what she does, it never stops.

If she is honest, Marinette knows much of the anger is not at him. Sure, he deceived her -but she never gave him the slightest hint that she’d want to exchange identities. As time goes on, she is better able to realize that. She doesn’t even think she would be so mad, if only he hadn’t also learned of her crush and cruelly let her confide in him. Much of the anger is on herself, for thinking she could ever have the most handsome boy in Paris return her feelings, for hoping against hope that she could, just this once, be enough.

-

The akuma shows up in the worst of times.

It’s a really strong one, too, a young girl who got bullied -surprisingly not by Chloe- looking for retribution. She’s holding an oversized make up brush that Ladybug suspects is where the akuma hides, and whoever she paints over suddenly has their most embarrassing features or secrets out in the open. All over Paris, people lose their make up at best, and at worst, get some sort of holographic text on top of their heads divulging their deepest secrets. Ladybug worries, because that sort of akuma could very well unmask her and Chat Noir, and she really can’t afford that. With things as they are now, losing one of them may well mean losing both.

And the longer the girl is akumatized, the less it seems like they will be able to beat it. Ladybug knows she can’t afford to hold onto her grudges, not when the fate of Paris is at risk -but trusting Chat Noir is so hard. It’s not like when she found out anymore, she has no more shock to get her through the motions on autopilot.

On his end, Chat Noir tries to pun and act like nothing is wrong (they can’t afford to show Paris, and by extension, Hawk Moth, that something is), but they keep missing each other’s cues, keep tripping over each other in their attempts to corner the akuma. Every time they’ll attack her, she will swipe at them with their brush, and Ladybug and Chat Noir, out of sync and unable to confide in each other, struggle to keep up.

Eventually, they get an opening when she finds her bully, and she loses all interest in their miraculous in favor of exacting revenge. Chat Noir seizes this opportunity to swipe at her legs with his staff, but she holds onto the baton at the last second and uses the momentum to twirl around with it, Chat Noir still attached to the opposite end of it. She turns and turns until she resembles a spintop and then, in the blink of an eye, she lets go. Ladybug is horrified as she witnesses Chat Noir’s rapidly retreating figure, then hears the crack of concrete as he crashes against a building in the city center.

She can’t really recall what happens after. She remembers her heart constricting in anguish at the distant yowl, only audible to her because of her enhanced hearing. Then anger, white and blazing and blinding as she conjures up the lucky charm and she can’t even understand what she has to do with this stupid phone until- oh! Of course. A taunt over cyberbullying and she feels so bad because the mere idea of it is so wrong but Chat Noir is hurt and she can’t take it, not when they’re like that, not when she hasn’t forgiven him and maybe won’t get to and- a toss of her yoyo and the brush is broken and time to de-evilize!

The poor child barely gets her bearings before Ladybug is sprinting away, frantic in her need to get to her partner’s side. He’s unconscious at the foot of a building, a crowd of concerned citizens surrounding him. Ladybug fights back tears as she arrives, taking his head in her arms and tenderly brushing his bangs away from his gaze. Please, please let him be okay, she pleads silently.

She hears, far away even though it’s right on her earlobe, the beeping of her earrings. Chat Noir must have longer, because he didn’t use his Cataclysm, but even so his transformation won’t hold with him knocked out like that. Ladybug holds him in her arms, placing his head carefully in the crook of her own neck, and zips away with a tiny, forced smile towards the cheering crowd behind her.

After locating Adrien’s bodyguard, Ladybug lands on a tall roof, away from prying eyes.

“Plagg, if you can hear me, I think he needs medical attention.” She murmurs, a trembling in her voice. “Please, drop the transformation.”

There’s a flash of green light, and then the black kwami floats before her, a concerned look on his big green eyes as he approaches his unconscious charge.

“Ladybug, he hit his head pretty hard.” Plagg says, touching a tiny paw to Adrien’s cheek.

“Don’t worry, he will be okay.” She replies. In truth, she’s not sure if she is reassuring him or herself. Either way, she really hopes she is correct.

-

After dropping him off with his bodyguard, Ladybug finds a secluded place to detransform and goes back home. Once there, she waits until nighttime to transform back and make her way through Paris’ rooftops until she’s at the foot of Adrien’s always-slightly-ajar window. There’s a lamp turned on in the upper part of his bedroom that bathes the room in faint golden light, and through it she’s able to make his figure out laying on his bed, sleeping.

She walks in, stepping softly as to not wake him. Ladybug chances a look at his face and is worried to see a small frown on his brow, but his face is otherwise peaceful. Plagg emerges from under his blanket, green eyes slightly bleary as he rubs them with a tiny paw.

“I thought you didn’t want to see him.” He comments. She doesn’t, but she does, but- oh, it’s so hard making up her mind. She’s not done processing her feelings, and she can’t stop worrying about him.

“I… needed to make sure he was okay.” She admits. “We are still partners.”

“Can I tell you something, little bug?” Plagg asks, after a moment of silence. Ladybug knows he’s going to speak on behalf of Adrien, and really why wouldn’t he? Adrien is his holder, after all. She isn’t sure she wants him to -one part of her wants to move past this, but another one is still conflicted on her feelings. She’s silent as she deliberates, and before she can make up her mind, Plagg takes her silence as an affirmation and continues. “Adrien messed up big time hiding what he did from you, but that kid is the finest wheel of cheese ever made. Not a single bit of mold. You don’t have to listen to me, but I think my sugar cube would agree with me when I ask you to please give him a chance.”

Ladybug doesn’t mean to go back to being Marinette. Not in Adrien’s room, when he could wake up anytime, and not after what Plagg said. It’s Tikki who pushes the detransformation, and it’s her bright blue eyes looking at her full of meaning as she floats up to her face. Marinette holds in a groan, because Tikki never scolds her unless she’s wrong, and she hasn’t so far. Is she really overreacting?

“No, Marinette.” Tikki says softly, as though reading her thoughts. “But you’re not allowing youself to see the full picture either.”

Marinette wonders what she means by that. With a sigh, she comes to the conclusion that her worries have been quelled, and stands up to start her way back home. As she turns around, a white square calls her attention and, not without a little guilt for snooping, she checks it out. It’s an envelope with her name on it in Adrien’s cursive script.

“He was going to give it to you.” Plagg says, around a mouthful of cheese. “Jus’ take it.”

Pursing her lips, Marinette puts the letter in her pocket before transforming and making her way back home.

-

 “Ma bien-aimée Marinette,

 I won’t bother you with apologies; I know I don’t deserve forgiveness for lying to you, and I won’t ask for it no matter how desperately I want it. The last time we talked, you left before I could explain, so I’ll try to do it as swiftly as possible. Please bear with me for a few paragraphs.

 I’ve always thought you were amazing. Ever since the first day I met you. I don’t know if you know this, but you were my first friend. But no matter how I tried to talk to you, you would always clam up around me. I knew I was the issue, because you didn’t react that way to anybody -not even Chloe.

 When I found out you were Ladybug, I was shocked, but also quite glad. You already were a sort of superhero for our class, so it made sense that you would be the face behind the actual superhero. Only such a valiant, confident, uplifting, charismatic, inspiring, trustworthy girl could be Ladybug. As Chat Noir, I’d always wanted to get close to Ladybug, and here I had the perfect opportunity to do it. Around Chat Noir, you weren’t nervous or tongue tied, and I could finally see the girl under the costume that I so often dreamt about. I regret that in the process, I hurt you.

 Before your fall, I had always been in love with Ladybug, but only through it was I able to know and love Marinette.

 Yours,

 Adrien.”

-

Chat Noir gets to the Eiffel Tower three hours early.

It’s been a week, and his doctor just cleared him after the concussion he got in the akuma attack. he surmises he might have recovered earlier, had he not woken up the day after and found out Ladybug had taken his letter.

“She what?” he’d asked Plagg, nauseous and drowsy and about to willingly choke on his own vomit from anxiety. “And you just gave it to her?”

“Well, it was for her wasn’t it?” Plagg had replied, not paying him any mind over his camembert slice. “Kid, she needed to hear you out, and she wasn’t willing to let you speak.”

“Oh Plagg,” Adrien had moaned, covering his face with his hand and falling back into bed to sleep out his concussion. “I just hope it works out.”

So now he stands there, impatient and anxious and confused because Marinette asked him to meet her here. And she hasn’t wanted to see him in nearly three weeks, so his anxiety is at its breaking point. If he adds the fact that she must have read his letter a dozen times by now (or even worse, not read it at all), he might just purposefully slip off the railing he’s perched on.

He’s entertaining a thread of self-destructive thoughts as he imagines what she might say (I hate you How could you do this to me I don’t want to work with you anymore This is the end of my being Ladybug Never speak to me again I’ll never return your feelings) when she appears. Her Ladybug costume has never seemed so much like an armor.

There’s an emotion in her eyes he can’t quite figure out, but it looks like a serene kind of sadness.

“Hello Chat Noir.” She says, sitting down at the of the railing. Tentatively, Chat Noir sits down next to her, close enough to touch should she extend her hand, but not so close as to invade her personal space.

“Bonsoir, ma Lady.” He replies, sheepish.

“I read your letter.” She says, and despite having known from the beginning that it was a very likely scenario, his heart still constricts inside his chest. He has a feeling about this moment -it will either make them or break them. He hopes, ardently, that it’s the former. “I… god, Chat Noir. I’m- I can’t-“

For a second, he almost feels like she’s taken off her mask. The way her tongue-ties is so incredibly Marinette, and he loves her so much, but she’s going to reject him. He knows it.

“You don’t have to spare my feelings, my lady.” Chat Noir interrupts, a small, self-pitying smile gracing his face despite his best efforts. “I’ve always known someone else was in your heart.”

She looks at him with wide eyes.

“What?” she asks, stuttering forgotten as her face seems to constrict in… anger? “How can you- and after all this time! You’ve been stringing me along and falling in love with Ladybug and calling her all those formidable things all the while knowing it was me under that mask! Of course I was never going to live up to her! And you knew how I felt about  you and still-“

He’s had so much time lately to get used to Marinette being angry at him, and he has had his fair share of anger from his Lady. Yet as she goes on her angry rant, Chat Noir finds that he’s shocked. Not at her demeanor, but at her words. “Falling in love with Ladybug”? She’s Ladybug! And he’s in love with her! And… how she felt? His head fixates on that thought so hard that it makes him feel dizzy.

“M-my lady,” he interjects, daring as he holds the fist she’s been waving at him for the past few minutes. “H-how you felt about me…?” he asks, hoping against hope.

“Oh, please.” Ladybug says, scornful. “Like you didn’t know I’ve been in love with Adrien for forever.” She admits, red to the tips of her ears, but Chat Noir doesn’t know if it’s anger or embarrassment that is coloring them. And frankly, after her last statement, he doesn’t find it in himself to care.

She loves him, and he loves her, and they may be in shambles, but it’s not all lost. A dazzling grin takes over his face.

“I love you too, my lady.”

“You wrote that.” She says, looking away with that sadness seeping back into her bluebell eyes. “But you’ve got it wrong. Valiant? Inspiring? Charismatic? That’s Ladybug. Not me. You’re in love with someone who doesn’t exist.” She looks away but he still notices the way her eyes go glassy and he can’t believe she really thinks that’s the truth.

“Marinette.” He calls. She gasps, softly, and looks up. The tiniest of tears have escaped from the corners of her eyes, and he reaches out to wipe them away with the tenderest of gestures. “Please, detransform.” And he does so as well, silently willing Plagg and finding the contrarious kwami complying with his request easily for once. Ladybug stays silent, looking for all the world like she’s going to bolt right then and there, but there’s a flash of pink light and then Tikki floats between them. The red kwami looks at her charge sternly, hugging her face tightly before dragging Plagg away to the upper side of the tower.

“Marinette” he starts, choosing his words carefully. She’s not looking at him, so he crosses the distance between them to hold her face in his hands. And because he knows he might not get to do this another time, he takes the time to caress her cheeks with his thumbs, to drink in her tiny nose and the silvery flecks in her bluebell eyes. He may only be fifteen, but he knows he will never love someone this much, not after her. “The first time we met, you left when we defeated Coeur de Pierre, and I told myself “whoever is under that mask, I love that girl.”” Marinette looks up at him. “You may not think so, but every single quality of Ladybug’s is yours, Marinette. She is lovely and amazing because you are. I’ve had three months to confirm that. Three months to fall in love all over again.”

“B-but if you loved me… why didn’t you say anything?” she asks. She sounds small, something that doesn’t fit Marinette at all. She’s too grand for this world, yet her shoulders hunch as if trying to make herself smaller. “y-you knew how I-”

“I didn’t.” he quickly assures, shaking his head. “If I had, I wouldn’t have hesitated.” And, because he might not get another chance, because he loves her and she loves him and they’re as close as the top of the world as Paris gets, Adrien pulls her face in and kisses her.

In the kiss, Adrien pours all his love for her. He’s clumsy and inexperienced and he doesn’t know if he isn’t just slobbering all over her, but she doesn’t pull away. She lets out a little whimper, motionless for what feels like eons until her hands come up to fist at his shirt and she starts returning the kiss in earnest. She’s not any better a kisser than he is, but to him, nothing could be better.

Eventually, Adrien lets go of her face, and Marinette stumbles backward a few paces. Because of their precarious setting, Adrien holds her hand to steady her, watches as she takes a breath so deep that he wonders whether she had been breathing at all the past few minutes. Her face is still greatly flushed, and one of her pigtails has come undone. With his free hand, he undoes the other one, watches as her hair tumbles freely over her neck. She looks at their joint hands, pensive.

“Let’s start over, my lady.” He proposes, squeezing her hand. He hears Plagg’s snicker somewhere out of his sight, and he knows the kwami will tease him incessantly later.

“B-but Adrien… What about our identities? And Hawk Moth? There’s so much at risk.” Marinette makes fair points, but Adrien is such an unlucky person, he always takes his victories wherever he can get them. This, he knows, is his greatest victory, and he isn’t prepared to give it up.

He pulls her in, hugging her to him. How could he have gone so long without her in his arms? She fits there perfectly. Marinette doesn’t resist, and that’s how he knows he’s won this battle.

“As long as we’re together, we’ll be fine. After all, who could beat the luckiest girl and the handsomest cat in the world?” Marinette snorts, then laughs a happy laugh, ringing in his ears like tiny bells. She beams at him, and Adrien knows that he’s the actual luckiest guy in the world.

[sineala]

Author Meme

Author Name:

Sineala

Fandoms You Write For:

Currently, Marvel Comics. You may also remember me from The Eagle.

Where You Post:

AO3.

Most Popular One-Shot:

As measured by hits, technically, the answer to this question is Slipping off the Page into Your Hands (616), my first Steve/Tony fic, which is a soulmates + identity porn retelling of about twenty years of comics canon. However I didn't really understand posting stories in chapters at the time and technically this is a 70,000-word one-shot. I'm very sorry. I won't do it again.

If you'd like one-shots with more reasonable word counts, I've got Think of This as Solving Problems (That Should Never Have Occurred) (616), a Steve/Tony amnesia + identity porn fic at 35,000 words, and also Follow in Your Footsteps (616), a Steve/Tony soulmate story at 7,000 words, which probably counts as a one-shot by everyone's standards.

You'll never guess what my favorite tropes are. *covers face with hands*

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story:

Thrust Issues (616), a 130,000-word Steve/Tony story in which Captain America has an extremely large penis and his BFF Iron Man would like to help him lose his virginity. I write only the finest and most classy of literature. It has eight sex scenes.

Favorite Story You Wrote:

Straight on till Morning (616), my Steve/Tony Star Trek AU. You mean I get to take two of my favorite fandoms and paste them together? I basically just had a whole lot of fun throwing in all my favorite tropes from both canons and trying to come up with a way to translate the Avengers characters into the Star Trek universe.

I'm also pretty proud of Double Time (616/Noir) because I feel like it was one of those stories that came off exactly how I imagined it in my head and that almost never happens.

Story You Were Nervous to Post:

Chosen Man (The Eagle), which I wrote when I first got into the fandom, then waited about two years without posting it, and then finally posted it when the fandom was mostly dead. I didn't have an outline and I actually didn't have a beta and I just kept writing until it looked like somehow I had an ending. (I also did pretty much the same thing with Arcadia (Pros). I guess I like to finish novel-length stories and then wait years before posting them. I have a lot of anxiety, okay? I sign up for challenges because otherwise I would literally never post anything.)

How Do You Choose Your Titles:

I was going to say it's all song titles but maybe it's more like 50% song titles. Most of the Eagle stories are quotations in Latin. I have a rule for myself that I'm not allowed to title the story in Latin unless it's actually set in Ancient Rome.

Do You Outline:

Definitely. I wouldn't be able to remember what was supposed to happen without it.

Complete:

263 stories. Ha. Um. Yes. Well. No, wait, there's that unfinished Eagle space AU story. 262, I guess. Maybe I should just mark that complete. It kind of has an ending? A couple of the stories are translations of Latin fic (mostly mine) into English.

In-Progress:

When My Heart Bleeds: The Madame Masque story that was going to be one of my RBBs this spring before RL intervened. An established-relationship Steve/Tony AU of the Avengers v3 Nefaria Protocols arc. Featuring Whitney Frost (of course), a whole lot of hurt/comfort, a very familiar flophouse, Tony's alcoholism rearing its ugly head, a very protective and occasionally terrifying Steve, and a bunch of Avengers attempting to do the right thing based on extremely limited information. Status: done, currently in beta. 150,000 words.

Untitled Star Trek AU Sequel: Steve and Tony are on the worst shore leave ever, and it's getting worse by the minute. The fate of the Federation hangs in the balance. It was supposed to be a nice relaxing shore leave and then everything went wrong. Currently 100,000 words and I am supposed to be working on it now so we will see how this goes. Still near the end of chapter 3 (out of 6). I’m going to finish! I swear! I wrote some words last night!

MTH 2018 Collaboration With Kiyaar: We've got... ideas. Definitely we have several of those. We're gonna destroy you.

Coming Soon/Not Yet Started:

My ideas file is huge. Here are some of the more complicated ideas and not the ones that are just, like, “Steve in his commercial art days ends up drawing gay porn for rent money" or “the RT node breaks Tony’s dick.”

1930s Thoroughbred racing AU: Steve is a jockey. Tony is an owner/trainer. Together, they're going to try to win the Triple Crown. And, you know, fall in love. And there will probably be some h/c as Steve will probably fall off a horse or two.

All-Time Low sequel(s): I swear I'm going to fix them, and that means h/c all the way up to the blizzard.

Double Time sequel: I don't know if I'm really going to write this, but it would be fun. It would be 616 Director/Commander -- Secret Invasion but this time it goes better because Steve is alive and that way Tony can actually focus on things that are not all-consuming grief. Also, this time Steve would know the Illuminati exist.

Other Star Trek AU: Assuming I am not completely burned out on Star Trek AUs after finishing the SotM sequel, Phoenix keeps drawing art for an entirely different Star Trek AU (trust me, it would be an entirely different Star Trek AU) and I would very much like to write something for it because it delights me so much.

Secret Sub Steve: That D/s AU I posted the premise of a while back, in which Steve is a sub (frankly, a pretty terrible sub) and Rebirth is intended to make him a dom. It does not, and Steve has to lie about who he is as he falls apart more and more... and then he meets Tony, who turns out to be the dom he has been waiting for.

Another D/s AU: In which Steve and Tony meet on an anonymous hook-up site and, gosh, they get along so well, these two complete strangers. It's like they've known each other for years.

Time-travel identity porn: A ToS-era story after Tony is Iron Man but before the Avengers show up, in which he is visited by a man from the future who says his name is Steve Rogers, he says he needs Tony's help to get home, he knows a whole lot of things about Tony that no one else does, and he's very, very easy to fall for.

Do You Accept Prompts:

Not outside of fannish auction situations; it stresses me out too much to try to write fic to specifications, but I make an exception for charity. Speaking of which, I am offering another story for MTH this year, and this time I promise it's going to be a short one (5k or so), so I will definitely finish it. So if you’ve ever wanted me to write you something short and sweet (or short and heartwrenching, you know, whichever), I can make that happen.

Upcoming Story You Are Most Excited to Write:

I dunno, man. Either the sub Steve story or the ATL sequels. Honestly, I will just be happy to be finally done with the WIPs I am working on now. They are SO LONG.

Tagged By:

@mizzy2k

Tagging:

Anyone who wants to do it!

[cabinofimagines]

This (Infinity) -Connor xReader.

A/N: My best friend loves Connor. That’s it, that’s the post -Danny. P.S. Tumblr won’t let me separate the text like I want so I’m trying something new, hope it works. <3

This is a Song-Fic! which in case you didn’t know, are my favorite thing to do, even if I’ve never actually done it lmaoo but I thought it was good to start with this one. The song is Infinity by AJR and you should check it out cause it’s the cutest.

Request: Yo, guys! I actually don't know how to ask this lmao. First of all, I am a big fan of all of you, and I love your work but I would adore you for forever if you wrote anything about Connor Stoll... A fic, imagine, head canon WHATEVER. This fandom always focuses a lot on the 7, Nico, Reyna and Will but there are sooooo many other characters to explore and this boy (Connor) needs love. It obvsly doesn't have to be rn, but pleaaaaaaase 😭❤️

Words: 1,213

Warnings: Nothing but it might be cheesy, sorry I got carried away blame the song for that. Blame me for the mistakes tho, I did not proofread or will I ever proofread these things, sorry-not-sorry.

Was it all in my head? In an empty bed And I told you that I need you Baby, can't you see I'm alone? Oh, oh

He just... gets you. There’s no way to put it into words, Connor has that and that’s it. If you’re angry he’ll give you space; if you’re upset he’ll give you comfort. Happy? He’ll make sure you stay that way as long as you can. Also, the feeling of trust between you two is the strongest of all. Which is ironic considering how much of a tricky little shit he tends to be. Not with you though. With you is like he’s still that kid you met when you had just arrived at camp. 

It was stressing (to say the least) to date someone as problematic as Connor Stoll. Fair enough, you aren’t perfect. But at least you weren’t exploding things at the speed of light just for laughs, or stealing other people’s stuff, or playing pranks on Ares’ children... Why did you like him again?

I was lost in my feet On an empty street So I save your seat, infinity Forever figures 5 and 3 You know, oh oh

“Y/N” Connor hopped right next to you, he wasn’t exactly a touchy person but he was fidgety, so he’d always have a way to feel like he’s in contact with you even if he’s not exactly touching your body. Sometimes he’ll grace his fingertips on yours, or play with the laces on your hoodies, it was sort of endearing.

“Connor” You replied in the same tone, giving him a side-eye look, “What are you up to?” 

“So... I’m starting college once this summer ends” He started, but you didn’t want to hear the rest.

You weren’t ready for this. You’ve been together since you were sixteen and now, What? Probably you’ll end up breaking up because having a relationship so far from the other will bring nothing but trouble. He was leaving to New Rome, for once deciding to be in a different school than his brother and thinking it’d had a whole new bunch of fascinating possibilities. It also had plenty of new people as well. And you. Just. Weren’t. Ready.

He had found a way around your heart and became vital to it, you’ve felt so alone before; like you were the third wheel of everything. Connor was the only person that made you feel like maybe, you weren’t meant to live your life like that, that you were worthy of having all the love and more.

So it was supposed to be you and him for a long, long time, not just a few years. 

“Oh?” You mumbled, looking down at your feet. If this was it, you just waited for everything to end soon.

“Right. I just need to make sure of this, Y/N/N” Connor shifted in his place so he could face you, “and I know you still have one year left before you have to go too but, uh, Would you rather live close to school or downtown? Cause I could do both but I’d prefer if you tell me know so I can get a place you like and we don’t have to move later next year-”

“What?” You cut him off.

Cross my heart and hope to die Stick a needle in my eye My mama says to pick the best And you are it

“A place? To live together once you go to New Rome?” He insisted, then got strangely pale, hit by a sudden thought, “Oh gods, unless I misunderstood your plans for the future and weren’t trying to go to Camp Jupiter once you get old enough, oh shit. I’m so stupid, ignore that I said all that-”

“No, Connor that’s not what I meant,” You quickly tried to correct him, “I was trying to ask- uh well actually not an ask, well it is but- ugh, this is awkward”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” Connor messed with his hair in concern, “I wasn’t trying to pressure you into choosing today! I thought- It’s just that the other day you mentioned how cool it looked the University and how you were dreaming to study there so I thought you wanted to live with me too? Now that I say it out loud it makes no sense, wow, I’m an idiot...”

You let him ramble not because you thought he was right and needed an explanation but because you felt speechless. He wanted you there. Connor had seen his future and for him, it wasn’t over after all, it was still both of you, growing as tall and strong as before.

Was it hard to believe? Wear your heart on my sleeve And I'll hold you when you're lonely When you're cold cause you're the only girl for me

“So you’re not going to break up with me?”

That question was all it took for Connor to stop his speech and look at you like he couldn’t believe what you were saying.

“Breaking up? Why the Hades would I break up with you?”

“Heard long-distance relationships never last, all this time I took it to enjoy my last few days with you before it was over for us, cause you’re finally moving on...”

“Oh, Y/N” Connor huffed, “you’ve always been so dramatic.”

“What’s that suppose to mean?” You asked in disbelief.

“Why would I break up with you?” He repeated, “no but seriously, why? You’re the coolest demigod on earth. When I was little I was terrified of being separated from my brother y’know? And once we started dating I didn’t have a single nightmare about that anymore. You got my back and I take care of you too”

This. This is exactly why you love him. Blind trust and nothing but honesty on his voice. Sweet, loving words that revolved around you and held you away from the cold it gave you that lonely feeling from years back. 

“I like you so much,” You were reaching for his hand, beaming.

“I love you,” His eyes turned gentle and the smirk changed into a soft expression, nothing but the vulnerability that he showed to no one but you, “you’re the only one for me.”

Cross my heart and hope to die Since you came into my life My mama says to pick the best And you are it

“So are you,” You replied, holding his hand firmly, tight against yours, “life is so much easier when you date a Hermes child, they can come in handy much more often than you’d think”

Connor laughed, pushing your shoulder with his teasingly.

“Oh, no, stop it!” He pretended to blush, “or you’ll make me believe you actually like to have me around”

“Gods forbid, no” You frowned, “my mom is very strict about what kind of boys I’m allowed to take home. Only the top of the top, best in their kind” You then leaned as if you were about to tell him a secret, “I think you’re it.” 

Oh, Hey All our trouble's gone Like when we were young Take me back to where we all began Here we are again, like we should've been

“And what if Mom doesn’t think that way?” Connor followed the joke, always in for a laugh.

“Well if I can’t take you to her home it won’t make much difference, cause I’ll be living with you by then, close to the school so we can sleep five more minutes  every morning before starting the day.”

“I‘d like that,” He closed the distance between you two, brushing your nose with his, “I’m gonna miss you for that whole first year though, gonna have to pay you a visit during the holidays...”

“Let’s make sure you get enough of me to take with you during the semester then...”

Wrapping your arms around his neck you kissed him and it was like going back to the beginning when you were kids falling in love for the first time, this was how it was supposed to be since then, like you should’ve been and were about to, for the rest of infinity.

Cross my heart and hope to die Since you came into my life My mama says to pick the best And you are it

-Danny :) 

[scgdoeswhat]

Yours - Beckett x Clarette

Summary: A prelude and postlude to The Elementalists Book 2, Chapter 9.

Rating: NSFW

Words: 5126

Author’s Notes: Wow. This literally has been over a month in the making. I originally planned to finish this the weekend after Ch. 9 came out but real life sometimes decides to dump a load, right?

This also stemmed from two things: 

Many moons ago @numberonepoetryexpert requested jealousy smut and it didn’t feel right until this.

This was the masterplan I was alluding to in that one thread so long ago, @queen-among-writers, @ludextruction, @fluffy-marshmallow-heart and @drakewalkerfantasy ! See, I knew where it was going!

Thanks everyone for their patience while I’ve regrouped. Special thanks to @brightpinkpeppercorn @hellomynameisdevi @a-whore-of-rome for keeping me sane and for the support.

Hope you all enjoy! Beckett doesn’t belong to me (unfortunately), but the story does. No Beta used. 

Sorry if the “Read More” link isn’t working. It’s Tumblr’s fault, not mine!

Tag list: @xo-endlessmayhem-xo @grungeisntmything @friendlylilshipper @felmasri @numberonepoetryexpert @hellomynameisdevi @beckettbaguette @siegrrun @choicesthatplayyou @retroangxl @askdana @50shadesofgrayx @darley1101 @kamybelen-blog @herdecisions @artchoicesreblog @teenytinymagician @choicesfannatalie @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @abigailpoe @flyawayboo @brightpinkpeppercorn @gardeningourmet @harringtons-honey @manateemilk @queenodysseia @thatcatlady0716 @divergentofhogwarts @pottershat @topsyturvy-dream @choicesyouplayandmore @zeniamiii @never-neverland @drakewalkerfantasy @syltti78 @elementalistshoe @maxwellsquidsuit @sleepingpillcorporation @tabithacarlisle @ludextruction @pbmychoices @wickedgypsymoon @mistychoices @izzycheeese @lady-kato @fluffy-marshmallow-heart @flynnomalleys @walkerismychoice @a-whore-of-rome @drakesensworld @laceandlula @rhymesmenagerie @shainaa00 @princessstellaris @itsbrindleybinch @donutsgirl36 @liamzigmichael4ever @mckenzie-powell @sunflowergirl05​ @justendlesssummerfeels @friedherringclodthing @choicesarehard​ @desiree-0816​ @elanorwaverley​

Please let me know if you want to be tagged/removed on future fics and I’ll tag anyone I may have missed in the comments. Thank you!

"Clarette, are you sure about this?" Beckett sat on the sofa, elbows on his knees, his hands wringing while he looked imploringly up at the woman pacing the common room area.

She stopped in her tracks, turning to face him. "Yeah, I am. Knowing how Kane has operated so far, flattery will get us far."

"But how far are you willing to go to play this charade?"

"As far as I have to until I get the answers I need."

Beckett's brow furrowed, not liking her plan one bit. "I suppose there is no way I'll be able to dissuade you from this, is there? I’m afraid that you’re playing with fire."

"Shouldn’t you technically say ‘playing with air?’” She joked, trying to lighten the mood.

The poignant look that he gave in response took the smile off her face instantaneously.

Clarette walked over to the couch, stopping in front of him as she gently picked his hands up in hers, giving his fingers a small squeeze. “I promise I'll be safe. Besides, you and the rest of the Crue are going to be there to back me up, right?"

"Well yes, but – “ he angled his face up at her, apprehension etched over his handsome features. "I can't help but worry about you, especially with what you've been through." Beckett brought her hand to his mouth, brushing his lips over her knuckles. "I know I'm not good at sharing my emotions, but Clarette, you mean the world to me."

A tender smile crossed her face as she bent over and kissed him softly, relishing the feeling of his lips against her own. He responded with intensity, his hands finding themselves on her hips, bringing her closer. Their kisses grew in passion with each passing moment, the fire between them burning brightly.

Beckett pulled Clarette onto his lap, her knees on both sides of him as she straddled him. She ran her fingers through his hair, the affectionate gesture sending shivers through him. He groaned into her mouth, his grip tightening as his hands wandered to her ample bottom. Rolling her hips forward, she gasped, feeling his excitement under her, their eyes trained on each other before falling into another passionate embrace.

Minutes later, they broke apart, breathless. Her eyes remained closed while she rested her forehead against his, relishing the intimacy in between them. Her lids opened languidly and she found Beckett’s hazel grey eyes staring back at her, full of intense emotion. She took his face in her hands, cupping his jaw before kissing him once more.

"Beckett, you mean the world to me, too. I can't imagine my life without you in it. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me."

Beckett's gaze softened with her admission, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he gazed at her adoringly.  “Hmmm, I believe you mean that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he murmured, his hand coming up to her face and caressing her cheek. “What did I do to deserve you?”

Clarette felt the warmth of the sun spread through her body with the smile he was giving her, the unadulterated joy radiating throughout her core. She brought her lips to his once more, their kisses slow and lingering, opposite of earlier yet both savoring the taste of each other.

Her lips curved upward and she couldn’t help but pull back with a little snicker, burying her face in the crook of his neck. “All you had to do was be yourself, a.k.a., you know, be hot.”

Reclining back on the sofa, he rolled his eyes as a blush dusted his cheeks. “You’re impossible, you know that?” He replied, a teasing, exasperated tone accompanying the smile on his face.

“Uh huh, and that‘s why you’re with me,” she laughed, getting off his lap. Offering her hands to pull him up, she sighed. “Come on, I guess we have to go and meet the rest of the gang now.”

“Do we have to? We were so comfortable.”

“I know, I’d rather be straddling you the rest of the night, but we need to prep for Kane.”

“Why are you always right about everything?” He reached for her hand as he stood, his mouth quirking as she helped straighten out his shirt and blazer without a second thought.

“I don’t know about everything, but if we were keeping tally, I’d definitely be lightyears ahead of you,” she ribbed, smoothing out the lapels on his jacket before running her hands down the front of his torso.

“I’m pretty sure if we started keeping track, I’d be able to match your score and obviously overtake it.” Beckett chuckled, a soft smile on his face as he bent over, planting a soft kiss on her forehead.

“You wish, Harrington.” Giggling, she slipped her hand into his as they walked out of the room to hatch a game plan to take on Kane later that day.

The Penderghast consortium stood alert in the now barren space that had been a teahouse not even ten minutes ago. The entire setup was just an elaborate illusion concocted by Kane to lure Clarette into joining him that afternoon for a supposed friendly chat, even though the destruction surrounding them told a different story.

Moments prior, the Air Source had cupped Clarette’s face, his mouth at her ear, whispering words that were meant for her alone before he disappeared in a flurry. The intimate nature of his actions led to an awkward silence around the room, despite the number of people present.

“I need some air,” Beckett broke the silence with his sharp outburst, frowning in displeasure. Turning on his heel, he stormed out the door before Clarette even knew what was happening.

Katrina watched her younger brother stomp out of the decrepit bar, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “I should make sure he’s okay,” she mentioned to no one in particular, although she made no move to follow him out.

Clarette put her hand on Katrina’s forearm, her brow knitted in concern. “I’ll go. It’s because of me we got in today’s mess, even though Beckett warned me not to.” She gave a hasty wave to everyone else in the room, running out to find Beckett.

Crossing the threshold of Penn Square and arriving back on the Penderghast campus, she ran down the main corridor, sprinting the last few meters when she saw his solitary figure marching towards the dormitories.

“Beckett, wait!” Clarette tapped her foot twice, enabling the Super Speed Spell she learned the year prior to catch up with his long strides.

He slowed his gait enough for her to draw near, but did not stop as the atmosphere grew tense between them on their silent walk back to his suite. Glancing up at him, she saw the contempt written all over his face.

‘Good job, Clarette. Way to fuck up the best thing you’ve ever had,’ she thought, her brow puckering in disappointment at herself. She followed him into his room, locking the door behind her as she braced herself for the inevitable breakup before they were ever officially together.

After a few strained seconds, she Spoke up, the prolonged silence making her anxious. “Please don’t be mad at me.” Her voice was unnaturally quiet, the opposite of her usual, self-assured nature.

“Mad at you? Why would I be mad at you?!” He exclaimed, turning around to face her. “I am angry, but it is definitely not at you.”

The glint in his eyes was almost feral and his face was red from the exertion of the battle earlier, yet Clarette knew there was something else with the way he was looking at her. Without warning, he crossed the space between them, wrapping his hand around the back of her head before bringing her in for a searing kiss that left her weak in the knees.

“Clarette, I could never be angry with you,” he murmured, pulling back as his eyes bore into hers.

“Oh.” That was the only word she could get out, her head spinning before he laid his mouth on hers once more.

Beckett nipped at her lower lip, lightly sucking on it while his other hand found its way to her ass, pulling her closer to him. She moaned as she felt his length press against her and he took full advantage, sweeping his tongue into her mouth and deepening the kiss. Feeling her legs going weak, she grasped his shoulder for support; her reaction was seemingly the only thing keeping her standing.

Breaking the contact, he turned his attentions elsewhere, trailing kisses along her jaw, up to her ear, and then down to her neck, biting hard enough to undoubtedly leave a mark the next day. He captured her lips again before backing her up against the wall, his strong thigh in between hers, pinning her in place.

"Beckett, what are you doing?" The question barely passed her lips before her head lolled back with his continued affections. His lips attached to her neck, his tongue lightly licking her heated skin.

“You’re wearing too many clothes for what I want to do to you,” he breathed in her ear, his voice low with desire.

Beckett hurriedly hiked the skirt of her steampunk dress up, snaking his hand up her thigh, the smooth skin driving him wild. Holding her gaze, he lifted her leg by his hip, giving him access to grind into her.

Clarette met his every move, cursing the fabric that hindered the close contact they both craved. She felt the heat pooling in her belly, and she knew he could feel her excitement rolling off of her. Never had she seen Beckett in such a primal, primitive, and possessive state and it was turning her on to no end.

Making his way back to her mouth, he gave her a bruising kiss before pulling back, a wild look in his eyes. He stared at her, his steel grey orbs molten with desire and the fire within him blazing.

"Clarette, it drove me insane watching you flirt with him," he frowned. "When he touched your arm, it took every fiber of my being to not instinctively wrap my hands around his throat, Air Source or not. The insinuation that he had something special set up for you and him, only to then whisk you away to God knows where? All I could see was him caressing your arm and wanting more... and I couldn't do a damn thing about it. The next thing I knew, he had taken you from sight and you disappeared.”

"But you said you were fine with it and look, we're all okay-"

"I never said I was fine with it. Willingly let you flirt with another man? It doesn't matter that he's the Air Source; it was obvious from the beginning that he held a strange fascination with you. You always captivated him. Given the chance, he would bed you in an instant," he seethed.

Clarette's jaw dropped. "Beckett..."

He looked at her, his pupils wide as his nostrils flared.

"You're jealous."

Beckett's eyes narrowed. "You're damn right I am."

Her gaze roved his face before she kissed him hard, her tongue brushing against his. "You have no reason to be. It's only you, you know that.” She stared deeply into his eyes, their breaths intermingling. “No one makes me feel like you do. I'm all yours."

The air surrounding them was electric as they stared at each other with intensity. She found herself short of breath; his fingers started trailing a path up her inner thigh before rubbing her through the soaked satin of her panties. Pushing the flimsy fabric to the side, he pressed a thick finger through her slick folds, the act making her buck against his hand.

"Is this all mine?" He growled lowly into her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

A gasp escaped her while her arms wrapped tightly over his broad shoulders and around his neck. "Yes," she whispered, her voice husky. "It's all for you."

Beckett smirked triumphantly as he watched Clarette's eyes close in ecstasy, his fingers moving unhurriedly in and out of her most private area. She leaned her head forward, resting her forehead against his shoulder as he continued his ministrations. Her hips rocked against the rhythm of his hand, his thumb glazing her clit, nearly undoing her.

"Please don’t stop, Beckett," she whimpered, his actions taking her to the edge.

Beckett removed his hand much to her dismay, her lids opening with effort only to see him licking her juices off his digits.

"Ah, ah, ah... not yet," he teased, bringing his fingers to her lips. Slowly inserting them into her mouth, his jaw fell slightly as their eyes locked and she sucked on his fingers, tasting the remnants of her honey. He groaned as her tongue swirled over his fingertips, the feeling of her hot mouth shooting straight to his member. Removing his hand, he held her against the wall once more, his lips descending and capturing hers in a scorching kiss.

He ran his hand down her outfit, a guttural sound emanating from his throat in dissatisfaction at the amount of clothes she was wearing. Setting her leg back on the floor, he took a step back, missing the heat of her body instantly. His eyebrow arched in disapproval as he calculated how many buttons and hooks held her outfit together until a smug smile appeared on his face. With a flick of his hand, he summoned his Air Magick and unfastened all the contraptions simultaneously, her outfit falling away at the seams.

Clarette bit her bottom lip as the cool air hit her heated skin, her nipples stiff from both her arousal and the instant exposure. She felt herself flush from her sudden bareness, his traveling gaze accompanied by a lick of his lips.

Beckett leaned over and kissed her with abandon, one hand tangling in her hair. "Much better," he whispered, in between kisses as his fingers slid down from the curve of her neck to her breasts. He kneaded the soft mounds, his thumb running over her darkened buds, taking gratification of her body’s reaction to his touch. Breaking their kiss, he trailed an invisible path from her jaw to her neck with his lips, pausing momentarily to suck on her pulse point. He followed the tender act with a gentle bite, eliciting a gasp from her mouth. Continuing further, he traced his tongue down to the valley between her breasts, squeezing them together as he peppered her bosom with feathery kisses.

Clarette leaned back against the wall for support, her hands gently scratching the back of his neck as he slathered his attentions on her breasts. She gulped in pleasure at his attentiveness, writhing underneath his touch as the caresses of his touch turned greedy.

Beckett grazed her nipple with his teeth, causing her to yelp in surprise at the different sensation. He took the sensitive peak into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the dusky tip before gently sucking any pleasurable pain away. Squeezing one breast roughly, he flattened his tongue against her bud, his eyes looking up to gauge her reaction.

"Was that okay?" His smooth voice ghosted over her skin; his eyes focused on hers.

She met his gaze, nodding in silence. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears and her chest heaved as she watched him continue his southern route, her stomach flexing under his featherlight touch.

Clarette's breath caught as she watched Beckett kneel in front of her, looking up with an enticing glimmer in his eye and a devilish grin crossing his face. He slowly slid her panties down, exposing her mound to him. Lifting her right foot up, his lips lightly brushed the inside of her ankle before making the journey up her long leg. He kissed the hollow of her knee tenderly, knowing it was one of her sensitive spots that drove her wild. Inhaling deeply, he let out an appreciative moan while he traced the inside of her thigh with his tongue, lightly biting the expanse of silky skin before soothing it once again with his mouth. His other hand gently ran up and down the backside of her other leg, gently squeezing her ass in a nonsensical sequence before his long fingers grazed the inside of her thigh.

She swallowed thickly as he rested her leg over his broad shoulder, her center completely open to him alone. The anticipation of his mouth on her was making her so wet.  

His eyes shot up once more, locking with hers before he delved in, giving her pussy a long, languid lick.

"Oh my God, Beckett!" she exclaimed, nearly losing her balance as he proceeded to bury his head between her legs, kissing her fully on her lips.

His strong hands held her steady as his arm wrapped over the leg on his shoulder, the other gripping her ass as he brought her even closer to his mouth. Her hands flew down to help her maintain her position, one clinging to his shoulder and the other landing on the hand on her leg, squeezing his fingers to let him know that she was thoroughly enjoying his attentions.

Clarette swore she could feel him smile as he squeezed back, encouraging her to ride his face as he explored her core with his mouth. She rolled her hips forward rhythmically, her breath leaving her in short, little huffs as she fucked Beckett's face. She nearly toppled over once more after he angled his head higher, his tongue now directly running over the hood of her clit. Pulling back briefly, he glossed two fingers up and down over her glistening slit, easily sliding into her tightness.

A strangled sob originated from her throat, her head falling back to rest against the wood paneling of the wall as he pumped his fingers in and out of her. He studied her face intently, loving how her eyes scrunched shut and her mouth fell open as he fingered her just the way he knew she liked it. Bringing his mouth to her again, he teased her mercilessly, tracing his tongue around her pearl in a slow, deliberate pattern, wanting to hear her beg for him.

“Beckett, stop teasing me,” she pleaded, grinding harder against him.

“Then tell me what you want,” removing his mouth, he replied with a whisper against her.

“You know what I want.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

Her fist flew to her mouth, biting down on her knuckle after he ducked his head once more, tormenting her with a clever twist of his tongue.

“I want you to make me come,” she barely managed out, her head feeling like it was on the verge of exploding with desire.

With her magic words, he brushed her clit with his tongue, her center clenching around his fingers with his divine course of action. Starting slowly, he lapped at her nub without haste, fully tasting and savoring her essence. He gradually increased his tempo, flicking his tongue back and forth against her button, making her quiver as her legs trembled around his head, his name repeatedly leaving her lips.

“Please, I’m so close,” Clarette begged, so close to her release.

Beckett applied more pressure as he sped up his actions, licking her relentlessly and giving her no mercy in his quest to bring her to pure bliss. He wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around her bundle of nerves, willing her to come as he continued to fuck her with his fingers.

“Oh God, Beckett, I’m coming!” She cried out, her walls pulsing around his fingers as she screamed his name out in ecstasy.

He kept his mouth on her through her orgasm, not stopping his movements until she finished riding out her crest. Carefully, he withdrew and set her leg down, holding her upright as he kissed his way upwards, his firm hands holding her securely in case her knees buckled under her.

Breathing hard, she leaned into his body, unsure of her own ability to stand by herself. She was on a complete high; her mind was dizzy with her overpowering climax and she could feel her wetness dripping down her leg.

Beckett pressed his body to hers as he nuzzled her ear, his straining bulge rock hard against her abdomen. “I hope you realize I’m not even close to being done with you.”

Clarette groaned into his mouth as he kissed her hard, tasting herself on his lips, his tongue tangling with hers. He shrugged the blazer from his shoulders, her hands pulling his shirt out of his pants before trailing down and squeezing his thick arousal, making him shudder under her touch. Her fingers deftly undid his belt buckle as he tore his shirt off, their gazes never leaving each other once. She pushed his trousers and underwear down, freeing him from his constraints as he stepped out of them, his body now naked as hers. Wrapping her hands around his erection, she stroked him up and down, squeezing him before running her thumb over his tip.

Beckett shut his eyes and his brow crinkled in delicious agony as he rested his forehead against hers. Eating her out had turned him extremely on and the feeling of her touch almost unraveled him at that moment.

“You’re so hard,” she breathed, her hand rubbing his taut flesh.

In response, his lids opened as he grabbed her hands in one svelte move, pinning them above her head with one hand while pressing his body against hers.

“This is what you do to me, Clarette. I can barely control myself when I’m around you.” Leaning forward, he kissed her deeply, hooking his other hand under her thigh. “I need to fuck you right now.” Their eyes locked as he claimed her with one rough thrust, a deep groan escaping him as he buried his big, thick cock completely in her sopping heat.

“Beckett!!” Clarette screamed in pleasure as he stretched her out, filling her completely with each of his slow, deliberate, yet powerful strokes.  Every jerk of his hips sent tremors throughout her entire body, the blood in her veins sparking with electricity. She wrapped her arms around his neck for leverage as he picked her other leg up, lifting her entirely off the ground, her body completely at his will.

Holding her against the wall, he increased his pace and fucked her senseless; the only thought going through his mind was how wet and tight she was and how damn good she felt surrounding him. He pumped upwards into her, the sounds of their bodies coming together combined with their moans to fill the room with a lustful symphony.

Clarette dug her nails into his back, leaving an array of red scratch marks as she held on to him, her body bouncing as he pounded her without inhibition. There was an air of recklessness about him and this was the most animalistic he had ever been with her. One thing was certain: She wanted more.

“Harder, Beckett. Fuck me harder,” she pleaded, a desperate tinge lacing her voice.

Beckett pushed her flush against the wall, her legs wrapping around his waist as his engorged length slammed into her sex repeatedly.

“You like that?” His voice was hoarse as he plunged into her, fully sheathing himself with each surge forward.

He elicited a stifled cry from her in response, her mouth by his ear. The sounds she was making was like a drug to him, urging him to drive even deeper into her. He could feel her pussy start to throb around his swollen dick, each clench threatening to undo the last of his control. Turning his head, he seized her lips with his as he pumped harder, the glow on her skin emerging once more.

Clarette felt like a coiled spring ready to snap, the tension within her nearly at a crescendo. Beckett slid his hand in between their sweat sheened bodies as he glided over her clit, pushing her towards another climax.

“Yes, just like that,” she panted, getting lost in the sensations he was giving her.

She clung onto him tightly as he rubbed her pearl with his thumb, going faster as he filled her over and over again with his thick shaft. He could feel his own release nearing as her walls started to pulsate around his throbbing cock, his entire universe revolving around him being in her and both their pleasure.

A strangled moan left her mouth as he hit her spot, her body tensing as waves of ecstasy washed over her. She came apart in his arms and the sensation of her pussy gripping his member was absolute heaven. Her body banged against the wall as he hammered into her, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he pinned her in place for his own indulgence. The ache was almost too much to bear. He could feel the tightness in his balls building, his orgasm quickly approaching as he fucked her at an even faster pace than before.

“Clarette, I’m coming!“ Beckett groaned, kissing her deeply as he finished.

With one final thrust, he came hard, his seed exploding in her. He stilled and his entire body was pressed against hers, his muscles tight as he panted for air. His head rolled forward, heavy, and rested on her shoulder as they both caught their breaths, not wanting to relinquish the high they were on.

Everything that happened earlier that day was now a distant memory. The only thing encompassing their thoughts and the only thing that mattered at that moment were each other.

Hours later in his bed, Clarette rested her head on Beckett's chest, her fingertips lightly tracing over his skin. She took a deep breath while listening to his steady heartbeat, the cadence relaxing her. Beckett ran his hand up and down her back, sending light shivers down her spine, a comfortable silence between them.

After a few moments, she exhaled, a crease on her eyebrow appearing as she propped herself up to look at him. "For what it's worth, Beckett, I'm really sorry."

Beckett furrowed his brow, bringing his thumb to her forehead to smooth out the worry line that was currently present. "Hey, sorry for what? You have nothing to apologize for."

"But that's the thing. There is. Earlier when we were talking about my stupid plan, I heard the words that you said, but I wasn't listening to what you were saying." She laid back down, wrapping her arm over him and snuggling closer.

"Mmmm," He expressed wordlessly as he drew her closer, kissing the top of her head, letting her continue.

"I know I act first and think later, which is totally opposite of what you do, and the plan in my head - "

"- Sounded good, I know."

“So yeah, I’m sorry for not listening to you.”

Beckett tilted her face up to look at him, giving her a peck on the temple. “I still stand by my opinion that you have nothing to be sorry for, but I do wish you would consider plans that do not constantly put you in danger.”

"I just want to get to the bottom of everything, you know?" She sighed, laying her head back down on him.

"I know, and I just want you to be safe. You have people who care about you.” He paused. “I really care deeply about you.”

Clarette stayed quiet, mulling over his words. She had heard these words before in what seemed like a lifetime ago; before Magick, before Penderghast, and before Beckett. The words and the boys attached to them were always full of false promises. But this time? She truly believed him.

“Clarette? I was about to ask you something, but I felt a tear…“ he trailed off, slightly alarmed.

She sat up and wiping the corner of her eye. Sure enough, there was a bead of moisture on her face and its remnants his chest.

Sitting up to join her, her cupped her cheek, wiping the tear away with his thumb while looking at her intently. “Is everything alright?” he asked, concerned.

Clarette gazed into his eyes, his feelings for her unmistakable. She smiled, placing her hand over the hand on her cheek. “Yeah, it actually is. I just zoned out thinking about the past and how sometimes all of this is overwhelming. But I’m so lucky that I have you by my side through it all.”

He exhaled; relief apparent on his face. “And you will always have me by your side, whenever you need me. Even if you don’t need me, I’ll be there, too. In fact,” his ears started to turn red as he cleared his throat, “I would like to officially be there, by your side. That is, if you would like that, as well,”

She looked at him, a stunned expression on her face before it turned into a smile that rivaled the sun itself. "Beckett Harrington, are you asking me to go steady? To be official?"

“Well, when you put it that way, yes.”

“To be your girlfriend?” She pressed, a glimmer in her eye.

“Yes, I’m asking you to be my girlfriend.” Beckett’s face was beet red. "Please, Clarette. Don't make me regret asking this," he teased, a grin creeping onto his face.

She bolted forward, planting her lips on his as they fell back onto his bed. Their nude bodies molded against each other, limbs intertwining as they made out.

Beckett rolled them over until he was on top, pulling back as he brushed the hair off her face. “You still haven’t answered my question,” he smirked.

Clarette cupped his jaw, trailing her hand down to his neck before resting it at his nape. “Yes. As if it ever was a question,” she beamed before bringing him in for a kiss. “Though honestly, it’s taken you long enough!”

Beckett laughed, his eyes twinkling with mirth. “Well then, I suppose I should make it up to you.”

“And how are you going to do that?”

“I’m sure I can think of a few ways,” he replied, placing kisses down her body.

She writhed under his touch, her body temperature rising as he spread her legs in an unhurried fashion.

With a placating grin, Beckett kissed the inside of one thigh, then the other. “Ah, Clarette, you should know by now, you should never underestimate me.” With that, he lowered his head and spent the rest of the night and the next morning making up the lost time to his new girlfriend.