#like Guy is a well adjusted dude. his wants for whatever happens between them are mostly pretty normal and healthy?

[lalalychee-x]

"College boy." Rodrick Heffley x male!reader pt 2

THIS IS AN ABSOLUTELY GOATED request for part 2 from 🌾🍞 anon, who asked for a part 2 and I'm flattered!! I'M SORRY, ITS BEEN A WHILE SINCE YOU REQUESTED A PART 2, I HAVE EXAMS AAAAA- Hope you enjoy this part too (they get freaky)...!! Mwaaaaa asks always open guys, I love them!

cw: period-typical attitudes to being gay (not homophobia though), male/amab reader, older/college reader (21), Rodrick in last year of highschool, so he's 18, awkward first-time blowjobs, rude/crude teenage boy humour

★ It's been a while since Rodrick tripped over his sexuality, thinking of you so badly he actually couldn't escape a speeding ticket when driving his van. So now he actually has to walk home and he hates it. Even worse when a certain convertible pulls up and he REALLY doesn't want to decline a free ride... click here for part 1

Rodrick needed to back-track this all. Okay, he'll admit, he WAS thinking about it. Thinking about it all day, all week.

It all started when he got Heather's number when he flirted with her outside the bowling alley, and told him to "swing by sometime." And he had. Of course he had. He was Rodrick Fucking Heffley, who got punked by a group of highschool girls.

So how the hell did he end up slammed against a granite countertop, gripping a stranger's expensive shirt while their tongue was halfway down his throat?

Well, turns out Heather's older brother wasn't just some preppy dude with a nice car. He was hot. Older, confident, smug as hell — the kind of guy who looked at Rodrick like he was a stray dog he was about to either adopt or put in his lap just to see what would happen.

And Rodrick let it happen.

No one knew. He hadn't talked about it. Who would he even tell? Rodrick hadn't even looked him in the eye the next time he came around to pick Heather up — just stayed silent, face hot, like he was afraid his dick was gonna remember what happened if he said more than a sentence.

Now it's been a couple weeks.

And today, Rodrick was trying so hard to look cool.

He was waiting out front of the school with his bandmates, sprawled across the sidewalk like they owned the place, cracking jokes and pretending they weren't all probably failing. Rodrick had his jacket off his shoulders like it was a cape. Fingerless gloves, shirt unbuttoned just enough to say yeah, 'I know I'm hot,' eyeliner smudged on purpose.

It was a whole look. And you were eating it up.

Heather was taking forever. Probably reapplying lip gloss or bullying freshmen or whatever she did.

His friends were trickling off, getting picked up or peeling away on their sad little skateboards one by one. Rodrick stayed put, tapping his boot against the pavement, adjusting his chain wallet, glancing at his phone for no reason. Just vibing.

And then?

Then he heard it.

A car horn — short, sharp, and obnoxious — ripped through the air like a slap across the face.

Rodrick's head snapped up.

He finally noticed you.

Window down. Arm draped out the side, knuckles loose on the wheel. Designer sunglasses. Lip between your teeth, chewing gum slow and deliberately like you were in a goddamn commercial. The engine purred like a threat. You looked like sin on legs and a fat inheritance.

And you were looking right at him.

Rodrick froze like he'd just been caught with his pants down.

Because in a way, he had. And after what happened last time? He doesn't want to imagine having his pants down, because... well, that's obvious.

The car didn't roll past. It lingered. Engine purring low AGAIN like it was laughing at him.

Rodrick squinted against the sun, already feeling the heat crawl up his neck. He didn't move. He could've walked away, sure. Pretended he didn't see you. Kept his pride and maybe a shred of sanity.

But he didn't.

Instead, he stood there, hands shoved in his pockets, jaw clenched like he was trying to win a fight he didn't even know he was in yet.

The convertible idled in front of him, all sleek lines and ego. Then came the voice.

"Hey, loser."

You were leaned out the window, sunglasses low on your nose, gum clicking against your teeth. That grin on your face? It was unholy. Like you knew exactly what you were doing to him.

Rodrick rolled his eyes so hard he almost saw the moment you kissed him play out in the back of his skull. "Real original," he muttered, biting the inside of his cheek.

"Aw, don't pout." You stretched your arm a little farther out the window, flexing your fingers mockingly. "I figured you'd be flattered I remembered you."

"Yeah? Well, I'm not." He puffed up a little, angling his shoulder like he wanted to block your view but couldn't stop himself from inching closer to the car. "What're you even doing here?"

You popped your gum. Loud. "Picking up my bitchy little sister. What else?"

Rodrick blinked. "Heather?"

"Duh."

His brows knit together, mouth twitching like he couldn't decide between confusion or sarcasm. "She left like... fifteen minutes ago."

You tilted your head, mock confusion on your face.

"Did she now?"

You slammed your palm hard against the outside of the door with a thunk, arm still draped lazily out the window, wrist dangling like you owned the whole damn parking lot. The car jumped slightly under your force, and Rodrick actually flinched.

You didn't smile, cursing obnoxiously loud, "That bitch."

For a second, his face was all wide eyes and instinct, like a feral cat cornered behind a dumpster.

Then he burst out laughing.

Not just a chuckle—a full, mocking cackle that cracked out of his chest like he was watching a soap opera and you were the main character having a meltdown. "Holy shit," he snorted, "You look like a pissy brat. Relax, man."

You narrowed your eyes. "Shut the hell up."

Rodrick took a step forward, one arm just above the driver's window, leaning in casually and milking this new authority—like he'd won something. "Touchy, huh? Thought you were all grown up—"

"Touchy?" you cut him off sharply, voice low now, almost a growl. "You wanna talk about touchy? Last time I recall you're the kid—a kid with a raging boner."

The laugh caught in his throat.

Rodrick's mouth opened, then closed. Like maybe if he stared at you long enough, you'd take it back. His ears turned a distinct, traitorous red.

You popped your gum again, the sound sharp as a slap, and let your arm hang loose again like you weren't even phased. You stared into his face, his more rigid posture and his fist against your car. You weren't phased, god no, you saw pathetic, barely legal teens running their mouths all the time. But this time, you wanted that mouth on something else—eyeliner, cracked lips and smudged makeup all.

Rodrick, however, looked like someone had just unplugged his amp mid-set.

"Well?" You grin, eyes flicking from his face down to his studded belt then back up again, "You better run home, buddy. Before your mommy tells y' off or something?"

Rodrick didn't move.

His hand curled into a loose fist against the top of your car door, knuckles pale like he was using it to stay grounded. His eyes flicked down to the tires, then your rims, then back to your face. He was quiet for a second too long, and that silence said everything.

You raised an eyebrow. "What, cat got your tongue?"

"No," he muttered, voice tighter now, jaw clenched like he'd just bit down on glass. "Just thinkin'."

You leaned your cheek into your shoulder, blinking at him real slow. "Let me guess. Van trouble?"

Rodrick's eyes narrowed.

You huffed a little laugh, shifting in your seat. "Right. You've been walking, haven't you? What happened, Daddy find out you drive like a bat outta hell?"

He didn't respond, just gave you a glare that tried to be threatening but only made you smirk harder.

You dragged your tongue across your teeth and clicked your gum again. "I'll give you a ride."

Rodrick perked up ever so slightly, but you held up a hand like a cop issuing a citation.

"Backseat."

His face dropped.

"What?"

You popped the car door lock with a little click, lazily jabbing your thumb over your shoulder. "You heard me. You wanna get driven, you sit in the back. Can't have you near the stereo, you might get ideas."

"Are you serious?" His voice cracked with disbelief and something dangerously close to a whine.

You smiled now, mean and slow. "Dead serious."

Rodrick looked at the door, then at you, jaw working like he was chewing rocks. "You treat me like a fuckin' dog, man."

You shrugged. "Nah. I like dogs."

He muttered something under his breath—definitely a curse, probably directed at you—but he opened the back door anyway, dragging his feet like he was being escorted to a prison van.

You watched him slump into the seat through the rearview mirror. "Good boy."

Rodrick flipped you off immediately, middle finger directed at you through the mirror, leanign against the window like a little shit.

You didn't start the car.

Instead, you leaned forward, grabbing a fresh piece of gum from the center console, slow and deliberate like you were on a break instead of chauffeuring some crusty eyeliner gremlin with control issues. You unwrapped it with a flick of your wrist, popped it in your mouth, and started chewing again, slow like molasses.

Rodrick squinted at you through the rearview mirror. "Dude. What are you—?"

You turned, not your whole body, just your head, resting your elbow on the wheel like you had all the time in the world. "You want some?"

He looked at the pack, then at you, suspicious. "Is that the weed kind?"

You rolled your eyes. "No, princess. I wouldn't waste the good shit on you. Pink lemonade. Super innocent. Calm down."

Rodrick gave a little scoff but didn't move.

"Suit yourself," you said with a hum, stretching just enough to spit the old gum into a tissue and stuff it into the door pocket. "More for me."

A pause.

"Just drive," Rodrick gritted, leaning his forehead against the glass like he was trying to escape by osmosis or something.

You made a soft noise of protest, exaggerated and bratty. "Can't. Finishing my gum. Can't you see? My mouth's busy."

Rodrick groaned, leaning back again, both hands in his hair now.

You caught his eye in the mirror, that same mirror where he'd glared at you, flipped you off, bit back a dozen smartass retorts. And now?

Now his gaze was stuck. Jaw clenched. Thighs spread just a little too wide.

Your smirk curved wider, and you tilted your head.

"Unless," you said, voice dropping slow and sticky, "you want your mouth busy too?"

Rodrick stopped breathing.

Like actually. You saw it. His chest locked up, and his eyes darted from your mouth to the back of your headrest and then down to his lap like maybe that would save him. He HAD been thinking about it all week. He was basically semi-hard for days, honestly (though he'd never admit it), too embarrassed to jack it off.

You didn't turn around. Just stayed staring into the rearview, chewing your gum, letting the quiet buzz of the car hold the moment taut.

And now Rodrick Heffley looked less like a punk and more like a problem about to beg for one himself.

"Well?"

Rodrick cleared his throat. Loud. Like maybe that'd distract from the very obvious urge 

"I'm not— gay— or into...that—," he muttered.

You raised your brows at the mirror. "Cool. Neither is gum, but you've been chewing on me with your eyes since the kitchen."

"Jesus," he groaned, pushing his palms to his face. "You don't get it."

"No, I do." You smirked and let your tongue flick against the gum once. "You're not gay. You just—what? Accidentally had your tongue down my throat? Accidentally got hard? Accidentally stood in the shower for twenty minutes thinking about it, but didn't jack off because that would make it gay?"

Rodrick flinched. You grinned. You knew.

His hands dropped to his lap again. "I didn't—fuck off, dude—"

"Aw, c'mon," you crooned, turning your head just slightly now, still leaned casually against the wheel like you had all the cards. "I'm just saying. If you're gonna moan about being straight, you might wanna stop looking like you're one lip-bite away from crawling up here and asking me to fuck you."

He scowled, flustered, but didn't deny it.

You let the silence crawl back in, slow and viscous, like syrup in the heat. Then, softly but it wasn't meant to soothe him or anything—the exact opposite actually,

"Unless that's not what you want. Maybe you don't wanna fuck. Maybe you just wanna suck."

Rodrick blinked, almost spluttering over nothing. "What the hell—"

"Not a bad option." You popped your gum again. "Start slow. Feel it out. Literally. Could be an experiment. You're in high school, right? Great time for science."

Rodrick looked like he might short-circuit. He opened his mouth. Closed it.

He's a highschooler, a dude at that too—sex and porn is meant to be funny, obnoxious and excite him. Not nervous, god why is he nervous?

Then, very softly, his gaze dropped and he muttered something that sounded like:

"...I mean—not...I dunno..."

It wasn't a yes. But it wasn't a no either. You could work with that.

You reached up and killed the engine. The quiet thud echoed loud in the space between you. You unbuckled your seatbelt, smooth and slow, then rolled your neck like you had time to kill.

Then, one hand shoved casually in your pocket, you stepped out of the car.

Rodrick straightened in the backseat, heart pounding like the drums he thought made him cool.

And you rounded the side, steps easy. Measured. Like you weren't about to absolutely ruin him, "Let's take care of that week-long boner, loser."

The second the door clicked shut behind you, Rodrick had to stop himself from backing away, cursing at first but shut up immediately. No time wasted — your fingers curled around his collar, tugging him forward until your mouths collided in a kiss so messy it knocked your teeth together. He tasted like Coke and teenage desperation, and you still tasted like that gum you'd been chewing, artificial mint and sugar, sweet and sharp on his tongue. It made his knees weak.

He leaned back against the seat, trying to match your rhythm, but he was all nerves and fidgeting hands, kissing like someone who'd had a few hot dreams and maybe tried it once behind a garage in seventh grade. Your lips moved slow, dragging over his in a way that had him chasing after the contact, heat rising up his neck. Every time your teeth scraped his lower lip, he gasped into your mouth like you'd stolen all the air from the car.

You kissed like you were used to this. Like you knew how to melt someone down to mush without even breaking a sweat. And Rodrick, poor Rodrick, who always tried so hard to look cool with his flannels and black nail polish and that stupidly smug walk, was crumbling already.

You gripped the sides of his unbuttoned flannel, easing it off his shoulders, one arm at a time, and he let you, blinking up at you like you were something holy and dangerous. Underneath, his vintage Iron Maiden tee clung to his chest, collar stretched and sleeves rolled, like he'd tried way too hard to look effortless that morning. He wasn't pulling it off now—he looked flustered, cheeks pink and lips slick, like he'd been caught in something too big for him.

He shifted, sitting up slightly, and fumbled at the button of your jeans. His fingers were trembling. He missed the catch the first time, then the second. His nails scraped your waistband. You didn't help—just watched, still half-straddling him in the cramped backseat, licking your lips like you were enjoying the show.

"Take your time," you said, slow and syrupy, practically crooning it against his jaw.

Rodrick froze. Looked up at you, eyes wild, like you'd just pulled a gun on him. His face twisted, flustered and furious, and he scoffed, "Fuck you. You're takin' the piss right now."

You laughed, quiet and rich, leaning in until your forehead bumped his. "Nah," you whispered, your lips brushing his again, so soft it made him twitch. "I just like watching you try."

His breath hitched. You kissed him again—this time slower, letting him taste the gum still on your tongue, sticky-sweet and minty. It pissed him off on how good it tasted—he made a mental note to actually take the gum next time you offered. 

Next time? God, why is he even thinking about a "next time"?

It took Rodrick a solid thirty seconds to finally undo your belt. He kept tugging at the wrong loop, too forceful, too clumsy, and you leaned your weight back on your palms, watching him like this was entertainment. Maybe it was. His brows were drawn together, lips parted in concentration. When he finally got the tongue of the belt through the buckle, he let out a breath like he'd just cracked a safe.

The zipper was easier—he tugged it down in one slow motion, the sound loud in the heated silence of the car. He paused when your cock was free, stiff and flushed, the tip already glistening. His eyes widened just a little. You didn't miss it. You never did. You've done this a few times before, but he clearly hasn't even seen porn of two dudes before.

"You're a guy too, Rodrick," you said, voice warm with amusement. "You know what feels good, right?"

He nodded, hesitant. One hand cupped you awkwardly, his fingers twitching like he wasn't sure where to start, then finally curled around your cock. His touch was cautious at first—slow pumps, like he was still testing the waters. But it only took a few strokes before he found a rhythm, the kind that made your hips jerk slightly forward into his hand.

"Mmph," you exhaled, half-laughing, half-moaning. "Damn. You're pretty good at this."

That did it—Rodrick's cheeks lit up instantly, a flush rising from his collar to the tips of his ears.

You tilted your head, grin sharp. "So how often do you jerk off to get this good at handling dick, huh?"

He choked on air—literally coughed, pulling his hand back like your cock had burned him or something. "What the fuck—?!"

You laughed outright this time, low and throaty, grabbing his wrist and guiding it back to your crotch. "Relax. I said you were good. Don't go getting all shy on me now."

Rodrick muttered something again—something that might've been fuck off or I hate you or Jesus Christ—but he was still holding you, still moving his hand, and you were still panting through your teeth, barely holding in a groan.

"Don't just use your hands," you said slowly, your voice going silkier, heavier. "Use your mouth. C'mon."

His eyes snapped to yours like you'd just pulled the emergency brake mid-highway. "What?!"

You just tilted your hips forward, cock tapping lightly against his lower lip, a bead of precum catching on the edge of his mouth. "C'mon. I've seen how you stare. Open up. I'll tell you what to do."

He was frozen. And then, so slowly it was almost comical, his lips parted, breath trembling.

"Keep your head down. Windows are glass, y'know?" you murmured, your fingers threading into his hair, guiding his head down to hollow out his mouth. "Now choke on something for real, babe."

Rodrick pulled off for a moment, panting and wet lips against your tip, brows furrowed in a weak glare, "Call me babe again, I'll bite your fucking dick off."

You huffed a laugh, "Sure, sweetheart."

And before he could snap back, you nudged his mouth open again with a firm, guiding hand on his scalp.

He went back down slower this time. Less out of hesitation—more like...curiosity. His lips wrapped around your tip, warm and tentative, and you felt the way he breathed through his nose, nostrils flaring as the weight of your cock settled onto his tongue. The taste hit him in waves—salty, bitter, heady—and his whole face twitched like he didn't know if he hated it or if he wanted more.

He tried to hide it. Tried to pretend he was indifferent. But you saw the way his lashes fluttered, the way his eyes briefly closed when you twitched in his mouth. That tiny throb of your cock against his tongue? He felt it. And it made him shift in his seat.

He was getting hard.

You caught the way his thighs pressed together. How his hips squirmed, almost guilty, like maybe if he clenched up tight enough his dick wouldn't be leaking against the inside of his jeans right now.

You groaned, low and pleased, hips barely tilting forward. "That's it. Good, fuck..."

Rodrick didn't answer. Couldn't—not with his mouth full, and your fingers tugging lightly at his hair to keep him there. But his eyes flashed up at you, defiant and pink-cheeked, watery with effort. You were thick, and he still wasn't used to it. His jaw ached, his throat was trying to suppress a gag, and yet he didn't pull off again.

You gave a shallow thrust—just enough for him to feel your cock stiffen inside his mouth.

He shuddered.

Rodrick groaned, and the sound vibrated down your length. He didn't want to answer. But his mouth stayed open. He sucked back down, slower, deeper this time, spit dragging from his chin to your base.

He liked it.

He hated that he liked it.

And you could feel the tremble in his thighs when your cock bumped the back of his throat again—could see the way he rocked ever so subtly into his seat, chasing a little friction, desperate not to make a sound.

You noted it through hazy vision, furrowing your brows to make use of it. A little surprise never hurt anyone, right?

Your hips twitched once—just once, experimentally—up into the wet heat of his mouth. And that was all it took.

Rodrick flinched with a surprised grunt, the motion nudging him deeper, forcing him to adjust and—fuck—he didn't back off. He actually followed through, the shift in pressure making your thighs tense.

"Oh—fuck..." you groaned under your breath, fingers tightening in his hair, guiding him just enough, but letting him choose to keep going.

And he did. Mouth working messily and drooling now, rhythm shaky but there, flushed red from his ears down his throat, like sucking you off was getting him off too—and it was. His own hips kept shifting like he didn't know what to do with the ache in his jeans. Because he really didn't—the closest thing he's ever been to cumming untouched was a wet dream.

You caught it just between the messy fold of his clothes —the way his hand hovered near his waistband, unsure, then gave in.

Your hand clenched against the car seat. The air felt thinner, charged, like it was vibrating around you both.

And when it hit, it hit hard. Your breath shuddered out, spine arching just a little, and Rodrick jerked at the taste, the sudden strange texture filling his mouth, but didn't pull back. Didn't flinch. He stayed right there, like he didn't know what else to do except ride it out with your cock in his mouth.

A second later, he slumped forward with a stifled gasp, forehead thudding lightly against your thigh. His mouth still damp. His belt half undone. He was breathing like he'd just sprinted a mile, and the way he clung to your leg like it was anchoring him made your lips twitch into a slow, smug smile.

His face was pink. Embarrassed and glowing all at once.

You ran a hand through his sweaty bangs, barely brushing your knuckles over the back of his neck.

"Damn," you muttered, catching your breath. "You're wayyy too good at that for a guy who's not into dudes."

Rodrick groaned into your thigh, trying to burrow and hide his face. "Shut up."

You couldn't. Not when he looked so cute— his face was a warm, flushed colour and eyeliner that began to run after sucking your cock pricked a few tears at his eyes.

You noticed the stickiness against the loosened waist of his jeans, his hips twitching in tiny, involuntary aftershocks. A huff of laughter slipped out of you before you could stop it—mean, but kind of stunned, too.

He's still catching his breath like he's fighting off the shame. You take the bait, whistling slightly as you motion to the crotch of his jeans where he'd cum, "Didn't even have to touch you, damn. Liked it that much?"

Rodrick groaned loudly, dragging the sleeves of his discarded flannel over his face like he could disappear inside them. His whole face went about as red as the knobs on your car radio, and when he didn't snap back right away—not with a joke, not with a shove, not even a middle finger—you blinked.

He was mortified. It would be too easy to push him further, but you decide to let up this time.

Your teasing tapered instantly. "Hey," you said, voice gentler now. Your fingers skimmed along his shoulder, grounding. "Hey, I'm not—"

He didn't lift his head, "Oh, fuck off."

You shifted, letting your palm settle between his shoulder blades. "Look, I'm not gonna keep going if you're freaking out."

"I'm not freaking out," His voice was still muffled into your jeans, but more steady, holding more vigour now, "Just. Shut the fuck up."

You did, scoffing and half-relieved his bite came back. "...You think your parents'll care if you stay out a few more hours? Or are you some curfew princess."

His head tilted, just slightly. "What?"

"Just asking," you shrugged, voice casual, but your thumb brushed behind his ear, playing with the fake cuff on them.

Rodrick's still reeling from the mess he just made, but he lifts his head, blinking at you. His face is a mess of emotions—still a little red but some sort of gratitude that you aren't totally making fun of him at least.

"Yeah..." he mutters, still avoiding your gaze. "They're not home for a while."

You give him a wink, rubbing your thumb on his bottom lip now—feeling the stickiness of it from whatever of your cum he couldn't swallow. Or rather, coughed back up when trying to. "I'm staying my whole break here this time. If you're up for it."

Rodrick's eyes narrow in warning and disbelief. "You really are an asshole."

You shrug, still chewing your gum and leaning back in your seat. "I'm not heartless though."

He props himself up on his elbows, cogs turning in his head. Did you mean what he thought you meant?

 "What?" You look at him, mumbling for the first time since you've met him. "I got hobbies besides being college fuckboy-trash."

Rodrick stares at you, eyes narrowed like he's trying to figure out if you're screwing with him again—but there's a twitch at the corner of his mouth, betraying the smile he's fighting. He exhales a shaky laugh, rubbing a hand over his face. "Yeah, well...your other hobbies better include food. I'm starving."

You reach for the keys from your back pocket, gum snapping between your teeth in a smile you pray he didn't catch. "Guess it's your lucky night, Heffley. Hope you like drive-thru food and post-nut clarity."

♡ Please do not modify, steal, plagarise or post on other platforms without asking. Thank you!

divider creds: @cursed-carmine

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

Moving right along. Episode 5

Sad guy is sad and is hallucinating the weirdo.

wait what happened with the teacher and the voice that I assumed was the rival? did I miss something. Did they? oh well

Ok what was that? was that suppose to have come out of his mouth? Cause his mouth didn't move. not even a little. But it seems like what comes after is a continuation.

ok. weirdo apologized but that doesn't seem to help. this is some very weak conflict even by bl standards.

sad boys montage. And I'm not an expert but this song is really not doing it for me. it's not good. Seriously, not even the music? I am in pain.

The guy is sick. Of course weirdo found the guy's house and shows up. At least he brought food. And of course he just walks in.

Ok. I haven't mentioned until now but what is it with this lip tint? It was obviously put in post and it does not look good.

Obligatory messy eater moment. So of course he needs to be fed. And hugged. Did they just make up?

Rival in the house. And he also brought porridge. This isn't awkward at all.

Great moment for weirdo to confess and then run away. And it's the rival's turn. The guy is popular today.

oh the guy thinks he's bad luck for other people. that's sad.

He needs to choose. He chooses weirdo. Every pot or whatever it is.

Ok this time weirdo asks for the kiss. This is improvement.

Episode 6 - oh it's the last one. let's get it over with.

flashback time. I literally just saw this.it's been 10 seconds.

Ok, that was a good kiss. And a long one for kbl.

We're back at the weirdly lit coffee shop. Oh wait I recognize this dude. Isn't he from a strongberry short? which one? I need to look this up later.

Ok. the guy got the job at the coffee shop.that cake looks good. is that cheesecake? it looks like it. like blueberry cheesecake. and now I want blueberries. preferably on top of cheesecake.

More kisses and the sound effects are back. also the silent comedy music. How much longer? wait is the weirdo also working there?

OMG. WHAT WAS THAT VOICE? THIS WAS THE CRINGE TO END ALL CRINGE. Ok, it turns out that they are both weirdos and they are perfect together. I'm sorry but this bit of dialogue needs to be shared.

the guy : today was tough huh? the weirdo: It's very different from when I was a costumer.

Was it? that's so weird. It's just going from one side of the counter to the other. I mean how different can it really be. 🤦‍♀️

Oh the kbl classic. Boy sleeps on table with one hand under his head and arm stretched.

Another good kiss. oh he was just helping his boyfriend but now he got the job.

Hug from behind my beloved.

They're missing an ingredient and one of them has to go get it. I'm having MODC flashbacks.

of course weirdo wouldn't let him go alone.

What's with the sudden tension, is that the rival? can't be.

AND THAT'S WHERE IT ENDS???? WTF? Is that it? ok, then...

Final thoughts

Strongberry we need to talk. I forgave that whole 20 minute short split in 3 parts. Mostly because those 20 minutes were at least well shot and well acted. And because we've been together for quite a few of these and there was a certain level of trust between us. I'm afraid going forward that will no longer be the case. Of course I'll keep my eyes open and if you decide to drop by I still wanna see you, but it's not the same. I have been burned too many times in this bl world and sadly I need to protect myself from future disappointment. So consider this an adjustment of expectations. I'm getting really good at these so don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I wish you well on all your future endeavours.

If anyone has made it through all that, I thank you. posting these made the whole experience a bit better. also I did not spellcheck or look over anything so sorry if there are mistakes. 💜💜💜

Edit: previous posts in the series if anyone is interested. E1 E2 E3&4

[ichorai]

Im watching succession rn and reading hell yeah simultaneously and YOOOOO the way its my lifeline rn, like fr fr. Its so so good!! Im currently in the third season and after i finish an episode i come back to tumblr to read the part of hell yeah from the ep 😭💕 i do have to confess that i mayyy or may not have read beyond the ep im currently in BUT idc bc it was so worth it !! Kept wondering as well, while i was reading, what wouldve happened if roman chose to fire the reader instead of “breaking up”?? How do you think the reader would have reacted?? I couldnt stop thinking if that possibility bc i love angst lmfao

ANYWAY !! Thank you so much for sharing the story with us!! Its absolutely amazing and your writing is so so good <3

omg thanks so much for reading dude :( makes me so happy that you guys are enjoying the series !!

as for an au where roman fires reader, she'd definitely not take him seriously at first. maybe laugh and tell roman to stop joking around but then does a double take when she realizes he's being forreal </3 roman also tries to alleviate the guilt he feels by repeatedly saying it was logan's decision, not his (don't blame the messenger and whatnot) but reader would be v hurt nonetheless. he'd start spouting out bs like, "i'm doing you a fucking favor, it's for the best, i'm putting the company's interests first, etc." from then, reader would grow furious and tells roman that if he fires her then whatever it was that they had between them would be over. roman, being roman, tells her they never stood a chance in the first place (he doesn't actually believe this, he's just swept up in the argument).

everyone's surprised / shocked when they hear she's been sacked, as she's so close to the family without acc being on the board and also has such a vital role keeping the company afloat. waystar itself would have a terrible adjusting period bcs they really underestimated just how much reader did for them (esp the small things that accumulated in her absence).

she leaves the company upset and bitter at first, but eventually realizes that she can finally live her own life and do what she wants to do without the constraints of the company / the roy family / her own absent parents. reporters are still constantly swarming her, asking her what happened, why she got fired, if she has any plans on going back, etc.

as for her relationship with roman, i can see them reconciliating eventually after a month or two because roman misses her like air and he fucking hates being in his dog cage the company without her there. would spam text her a million times one random day until she finally responds and would demand that she come to a fancy restaurant (he'll pay ofc, he's assumed she's gone totally broke now that she's not working w him), and they meet again and things just fall into place with the two of them :( reader is still pretty angry and hasn't forgiven roman yet, but she's missed him a lot too and couldn't ever permanently estrange herself from roman. as for the other siblings, reader wouldn't really keep in contact with shiv and kendall without roman in the equation, but she still gets check-up texts from connor, which she would briefly but fondly respond to </3

in this au, reader & roman wouldn't romantically get together probably until after the events of season four. they're terribly tragic soulmates in every universe i'm afraid !!

[yassbishimvintage]

Heavy Is The Head That Wears The Crown (2)

Warnings: Heavy Adult Themes

Jules

Jules was adjusting the cuff of his tailored blazer when his phone buzzed. He glanced down, expecting it to be Harmony or something routine. But when he saw Malachi’s name, a strange feeling settled in his chest.

Malachi: We need to talk. Now.

Jules frowned. His son wasn’t the type to send cryptic messages, and he sure as hell wasn’t the type to demand a conversation so urgently.

Without hesitation, he typed back.

Jules: Where are you?

It took only a few seconds for the reply.

Malachi: At the spot.

Jules knew exactly what that meant. The parking lot near the docks—the same place he used to clear his head when the weight of everything got too damn heavy. Malachi had picked up that habit from him, though he never said it out loud.

Grabbing his keys, Jules exhaled slowly. Whatever this was, it wasn’t good. Malachi rarely asked for his help with anything outside of football, school, or his girl. If he was reaching out now, it meant something had shaken him.

And Jules had a gut feeling he knew what it was.

His past was catching up. Not to him—to his son.

Without wasting another second, he stepped out, the weight of fatherhood and old ghosts pressing down on him as he drove off to meet Malachi.

-

Malachi leaned against the hood of his Maybach, arms crossed, staring out at the dark water by the docks. He barely glanced up when he heard his father’s car pull in. The low rumble of the engine cut off, and then footsteps—steady, controlled.

Jules stopped a few feet away, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable. “You know I hate cryptic texts, Malachi,” he said, his tone even but laced with expectation. “Talk.”

Malachi exhaled sharply through his nose, running a hand over his braids before finally turning to face him. “Some guy was waiting for me outside Frazier’s,” he said. “Leaning on my car like he owned the damn thing.”

Jules’s expression didn’t change, but Malachi caught the slight shift in his posture—a subtle straightening of the shoulders, the kind of reaction that told him his father was already piecing things together before he could even finish.

“He knew me,” Malachi continued. “Knew you. Said someone wants to talk. Called it ‘unfinished business.’”

Jules’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening. Unfinished business. That was never a good phrase in his world—his old world.

“Did he say a name?” Jules asked, his voice controlled but sharp.

Malachi shook his head. “No, but he had that look. That vibe. He wasn’t just some random dude trying to flex.” He paused, exhaling as he tried to push down his frustration. “I didn’t say anything. Told him to get lost, but he made it clear that this wasn’t over.”

For a moment, silence stretched between them, the weight of the words settling in the air. Jules stared at his son, taking him in—the fire in his eyes, the barely contained tension in his stance.

“You knew this was coming, didn’t you?” Malachi finally asked, his voice quieter but firm. “You knew something like this would happen eventually.”

Jules sighed, running a hand over his face before shaking his head. “I was hoping it wouldn’t,” he admitted. “But the past doesn’t stay buried forever.”

Malachi let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, seems like it just dug itself up.”

Jules took a slow step closer, his expression unreadable. “I need you to trust me on this,” he said. “I’ll handle it.”

Malachi clenched his jaw. “Handle it how?”

“The way it needs to be handled.”

That wasn’t an answer, and they both knew it. But Malachi also knew that pressing his father for more wouldn’t get him anywhere.

“I don’t want this touching you,” Jules continued, his voice low. “I spent years making sure it wouldn’t. But if someone’s trying to pull you into something, that means they want me to react.” His eyes locked onto Malachi’s. “And I won’t give them that.”

Malachi held his father’s gaze, searching for something—assurance, maybe. A promise that this wouldn’t get worse. But deep down, he knew better.

“Stay close,” Jules finally said. “And if that guy or anyone else comes back? You call me first.”

Malachi hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Alright.”

Jules patted his shoulder, a rare but firm gesture, before stepping back toward his car. “Go home, Malachi.”

Malachi watched as his father drove off, leaving him with more questions than answers. Whatever this was, it wasn’t over. And for the first time in his life, he wondered if he was ready to find out just how deep his father’s past really ran.

-

The moment Jules merged onto the highway, he hit the speed dial for Marissa. She answered on the second ring. Harmony was the family’s private investigator. She did the digging, no questions asked. 

“Talk to me,” she said immediately, sensing the tension before he even spoke.

“We’ve got a problem,” Jules said, his voice clipped. “Malachi was approached tonight. Some guy outside Frazier’s—leaning on his car, dropping hints about unfinished business.”

Marissa cursed under her breath. “Did Malachi recognize him?”

“No. And the guy didn’t drop a name, which means whoever sent him wants me to figure it out myself,” Jules said. His grip on the steering wheel tightened. “That’s a message in itself.”

Harmony exhaled sharply. “You think it’s Vega’s old crew?”

“Doubt it. We buried them when we took him out. If someone’s crawling out of the woodwork now, they’ve been waiting.” Jules’s mind raced as he ran through possibilities. He had cut ties cleanly when he flipped. But there were always those who held grudges, those who didn’t care about deals made with law enforcement.

“I don’t like this,” Marissa said. “You knew this could happen, but Malachi—he’s not built for that world.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Jules snapped, then forced himself to breathe. “That’s why I’m calling you. I need you to start digging. I want to know who’s sniffing around.”

“I’m on it,” Marissa said. “But if someone’s coming at you through Malachi, they’re trying to make you react. What’s your move?”

Jules’s jaw clenched. “I don’t make a move until I know exactly who I’m dealing with. But if they want to test me, they’ll regret it.”

Marissa was silent for a beat. Then, “I’ll call when I have something.”

Jules hung up, his mind running through every possible enemy that could be resurfacing. One thing was certain—whoever they were, they had just made a mistake.

Because threatening his son?

That was a death wish.

-

When Jules pulled into the driveway, he could already feel the tension in the air. The house was quiet—too quiet. As soon as he stepped inside, he spotted Harmony standing in the kitchen, her phone still in her hand, her expression unreadable.

She turned the moment she heard the door shut behind him.

“Marissa called me,” she said, her voice even but sharp. “You want to tell me why they know about our son getting approached before I do?”

Jules sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He had barely processed everything himself, but of course, AMMO had eyes everywhere. “I was going to tell you—”

Harmony held up a hand, stopping him. “Don’t. Just tell me what happened.”

He exhaled, walking toward her. “Some guy was waiting for Mal outside Frazier’s. He knew Malachi’s name, knew mine. Said there was unfinished business—then disappeared before Mal could press for more.”

Harmony’s jaw tightened, her cloudy gray eyes darkening. “And Malachi—he’s okay?”

“He’s fine. Pissed. Confused. But he’s not hurt.”

Harmony crossed her arms. “And you don’t know who sent this guy?”

“Not yet,” Jules admitted. “But I know Harmony. She’s digging.”

Harmony nodded slowly, her gaze hardening as she processed the information. “You always said the past wouldn’t touch them,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “You promised me.”

“I know,” Jules said, stepping closer. “And I meant it. But someone’s testing me, Harmony. That’s all this is—a test.”

She scoffed, shaking her head. “No, Jules. This is a warning. And if they’re coming for Malachi first, that means they think he’s a weakness.”

Jules clenched his jaw. “He’s not.”

“Maybe not,” Harmony agreed. “But they don’t know that. And until we figure out who’s behind this, we have to assume they’ll try again.”

She held his gaze, unflinching. “So what’s the plan?”

Jules knew there was no easy answer. But one thing was certain—whoever was behind this had just declared war on the wrong family.

-

“Protect my child Jules.” Harmony says.

Jules held Harmony’s gaze, feeling the weight behind her words. She wasn’t just asking—she was commanding him, the same way she did when they first met, when she was a detective and he was the enemy.

“You think I wouldn’t?” he asked, his voice low but steady.

Harmony’s cloudy gray eyes burned into him. “I think you better.” She stepped closer, her presence fierce, unwavering. “I don’t care what it takes, I don’t care who it is, and I don’t care about your past promises to let sleeping dogs lie. If they come for Malachi, you handle it.”

Jules nodded once. “I will.”

“Good.” But Harmony wasn’t done. “Because if something happens to him, I won’t be looking at them first, Jules. I’ll be looking at you.”

That landed like a bullet.

Jules inhaled slowly, letting the weight of her words settle. He reached out, gently gripping her hand—not to reassure her, but to ground himself.

“I swear to you,” he said, voice rough with conviction, “no one is touching our son.”

Harmony studied him for a long moment, then squeezed his hand once before letting go. “Make sure of it.” Then she turned, already moving. “I’m calling Rafe. Malachi’s not moving without someone watching his back.”

Jules exhaled, watching her go. He knew Harmony—knew that this wasn’t fear talking. It was readiness. She had been preparing for something like this from the moment they decided to build a family, and now that it was happening, she wasn’t hesitating.

Neither would he.

-

Jules stood outside Malachi’s door for a moment, listening. No music, no TV—just silence. That wasn’t like his son. Malachi wasn’t the type to retreat.

He knocked once before pushing the door open.

Malachi was sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, phone in his hands. He barely glanced up before muttering, “I already know why you’re here.”

Jules stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. “Then make this easy and talk to me.”

Malachi exhaled sharply, tossing his phone onto the bed. “What’s there to talk about? Some random dude—probably one of your old enemies—pulled up on me tonight like he had a message to deliver.” He finally looked up, his cloudy gray eyes—his mother’s eyes—searching his father’s face. “And I’m supposed to just act like that’s normal?”

Jules crossed his arms. “No. You’re supposed to trust that I’ll handle it.”

Malachi scoffed, shaking his head. “See, that’s the thing. You keep saying you’ll handle it, but I don’t even know what you’re handling. You don’t tell me anything. You’ve never told me anything.”

“Because you don’t need to know,” Jules said firmly.

“Don’t I?” Malachi shot back. “Because it sure as hell feels like your past just walked right up to me, and I didn’t even see it coming.”

Jules clenched his jaw. His son wasn’t wrong.

Malachi leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “You think I don’t hear things? People whisper about you, Dad. About who you used to be. The problem is, I don’t know what’s true and what’s bullshit.” He exhaled, shaking his head. “But tonight? That felt real.”

Jules sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s not your burden to carry, Malachi.”

Malachi let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah? Well, I hate to break it to you, but it’s already mine. I carry it every time someone looks at me and wonders if I’m just your son or if I’m something more.”

The words hit hard. Jules had spent years keeping his past away from his family, trying to rebuild, to be better. But here was Malachi, telling him that the weight of his past had been there all along.

Jules sat down in the chair across from him, leaning forward. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I did things I’m not proud of. I’ve spent every day since making sure those things didn’t define you, Izzy, or Mal.” He exhaled. “But you’re right. Maybe I should’ve told you more. Because the people in my past? They don’t play fair. If they’re coming for you, it means they’re trying to get to me.”

Malachi studied him for a long moment. “So what happens now?”

Jules’s expression darkened. “Now? Now I find out who’s behind this. And then I make sure they never come near you again.”

Malachi nodded, but his eyes still held something unreadable. “And if they do?”

Jules’s voice was cold, final. “Then they won’t live long enough to regret it.”

“For now you go to school. Focus on that. Football. Your mother and I will handle it.” He says.

Malachi let out a slow breath, nodding. “Yeah… alright.” But his posture was still tense, his mind clearly racing.

Jules leaned forward, leveling him with a steady gaze. “I mean it, Malachi. You don’t change your routine. You don’t start looking over your shoulder. That’s my job.”

Malachi exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Kinda hard not to when some random dude is popping up like he knows me.”

“I get that,” Jules admitted. “But I need you to trust me and your mother. We saw this coming before you were even born. We’re ready.”

Malachi studied him for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. But if this dude shows up again?”

“You don’t engage,” Jules said firmly. “You call me. You call your mother. You get out of there. Understood?”

Malachi ran a hand over his face. “Yeah. Understood.”

Jules stood up and patted his shoulder. “Good. Now get some sleep. You’ve got school in the morning.”

Malachi let out a dry chuckle. “Yeah, because algebra is really gonna take my mind off all this.”

Jules smirked. “Stranger things have happened.” Then his expression hardened. “Stay sharp, but don’t let this shake you. You’re an Aretas.”

Malachi nodded. “Yeah… I know.”

As Jules walked to the door, he glanced back once more. His son was strong—he had Harmony’s fire and his own resilience. But this was the first real taste of the world Jules had fought so hard to shield him from.

And he’d be damned if it touched Malachi again.

Tags 🏷️

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @avoidthings @nayesworld @haechvn @writingsbytee @grlsbstshot @ovohanna24 @skvrpion @megamindsecretlair @kimuzostar @kenshisluvrgirl @planetblaque @bimbosnbutterflies2026 @chewingmy3xtragum @easybrezzy @blowmymbackout @melaninpov @todorokishoe24 @chaoticcoffeequeen @brattyfics @notapradagurl7 @gopaperless @jenlovey @nikkinik 

[goldenboywrites]

Oliver’s gaze snapped to Isaac at his words. A different feel for magic. What did that mean? The only people who had a different…his eyes scanned over Isaac’s face as if the answer would be written there. The only people who could feel or sense magic differently than regular wizards would be someone who had…His eyes widened, and he gasped lightly. All the pieces came together in his mind, one by one until the answer was clear as day. The only people who would feel magic differently would be those with non-human blood mixed in. His eyes widened, and he tightened his grip on Theodore. 

Isaac was a werewolf. 

Oliver had never met a werewolf before, and he knew better than to believe the prejudiced media about them. Isaac had never hurt him, never threatened him, and actually had never been aggressive towards him ever. But he had been towards Cassio, which made sense to him. It was a territorial thing over Apollo. “I understand,” He said to Isaac, “I completely understand, and you know, no matter, Isaac, you’ll always be my best friend.” Oliver waited by the door to the living room for Isaac to finish his drink. Theodore shifted his arms but remained asleep. “You know if you guys need a babysitter on certain nights…” He didn’t want to say full moon nights and embarrass Isaac, “I will happily keep those specific nights free so I can watch this little dude.” 

Apollo rolled his eyes at Cassio and pouted as the man stepped away. He missed his body's warmth, the feeling of his body pressed against Apollo. It was like feeling the snap of a tether, and he was left so cold that it almost made him want to cry. Deep down inside, he wanted to push Cassio. He wanted to grab and pull him close, nuzzling his head into the nape of his neck until the blonde gave into him because Apollo knew he would. He always had before. 

He adjusted himself and then left the nook, returning to the living room. At the same time, Oliver and Isaac come back to talk to each other in low voices. He brushed his hand across Cassio’s back, ducking in and whispering in Russian, “Ya vse yeshche dumayu o tebe.” His fingers left Cassio’s hip, and he continued on his way, throwing himself onto the couch. Oliver and Isaac finally stopped talking and looked between the two of them. 

Oliver looked between Cassio and Apollo; his brow raised as he tried to understand the tension he was feeling in the air. He was well versed in his boyfriend’s expressions and could tell that he wasn’t happy about something, that something had happened while they were gone, but he also knew it wasn’t the time to press Cassio. His poor boyfriend looked so unsettled, so on edge, that it hurt Oliver to look at him. And then there was Apollo, spread out on the couch as if he didn’t have a care in the world. But what was interesting to Oliver was how he was leering at Cassio as if he were the last man on Earth. He didn’t want Isaac to wolf out if he saw whatever the fuck this exchange was, so it was time for damage control.

“We found everything,” He said, walking across the room and placing himself at Cassio’s side. Oliver leaned forward, kissing the blonde’s temple, and pushed the sleeping toddler into his arms. Isaac wouldn’t hurt Cassio if he were holding his maybe child. “So we can start now."

Sometimes he truly wondered how they'd gotten themselves into the situations they did. But then it was always so obvious because it truly was just themselves. They set themselves up every time. But this was different. The whole day had been different. Even when Oliver came home earlier it felt strange, he just couldn't have put his finger on it but nothing could have prepared him for Apollo to be like this. Cass' breath caught when they moved off to the side and a part of him was just frozen from pure confusion and a hint of something he wasn't sure how to process.

He hadn't forgotten their little stint between themselves. He remembered more clearly than he remembered a lot of things in his life but he couldn't bring himself to think of that time as something good. Not that Apollo in his life was ever a bad thing but their state of mind then was absolute garbage and it felt nearly like a whole lifetime. It had been exactly what he wanted in the moment he would have never said otherwise but ... Cass opened his eyes, pulling himself out of this lust driven afront and he took Apollo's head in his hands. He couldn't see anything wrong with him in that way but he also had no idea how to respond to him in that state and not fuck everything up. What happens if Oliver and Isaac walk in on this? After opening that bedroom door he was very damn sure he wanted nothing else to do with it at all.

"Knock it off." He said firmly, his finger squeezing a little tighter around his cheeks to drive home his point. "This isn't the time to fall apart and if Oliver sees this I will never forgive you." Cass pushed Apollo back as best he could. There was at least space between them and it felt like a damn cold front had flooded between them. His eyes darted back to the kitchen door and he was quick to shove his shirt back into place and sort himself out. He knew his face was flushed, could feel the multitudes of varying frustrations coursing through his veins. "We have to figure out what's going on with Theo. And then," He pointed his finger at him as he stepped back towards where they'd been left. "You and I are going to talk about where the hell that came from." Cass drew in a deep breath, not remembering the last time he'd actually said anything as harsh to him but the whole thing was ridiculous. All of it. The boy, Isaac and now this? Cass brought his fingers up to rub on his temples to alleviate some of the tension.

"Go get them. We need to get this figured out."

Isaac smiled softly watching Oliver with the boy. It was wild how easy it was to just keep him in rotation as if it had always been. He could feel his heart swell at the notion but he kept it to himself, knowing that speaking such things into existence right then would have sounded absolutely mad. "I have a diffe'en' feelin' fo' magic than you o' Cass o' Apollo." He offered, knowing that it wasn't his thing to share from back home outside of Apollo but there wasn't a reason he couldn't trust Oliver. After all, he'd really been one of his first friends once he'd gotten free from his family. Isaac shrugged, moving to finish off his little list and grabbed the cup from the sink, pouring himself a quick drink. To which he threw back with no hesitation, grunting softly at the burn in the back of his throat. "I 'spose I ha'e ta start lettin' thin's be." He sighed, knowing it truly was his own temper that had ruined today and nothing else. Well .. Isaac drew another glass and poured a drink for Apollo when they went back in. He was certain he'd need it. "I'll work o' it. Bu' rememba they ain' no saints." He teased, nodding for the door. "Ready, yeah?"

[ram-de]

[readthrough] foxhole court

Um... I heard this is a young adult book so I began reading it. but the themes it deals with seems so heavy what??? From hints of abuse, violence, identity fraud??? Who tf is Neil running away from. um I thoughts it was just a cute book about made-up sports... So why does this dude have a knife ready to stab his teammate in the ribs😭 HELLO????

The practice session is hell.. sports are hellish enough for the determined... Usually sports in the books I read aren't this detailed, then again that's mostly because I read romance sports not strictly sports book with a sprinkle of romance (I don't think this one is a romance)

noooOOOOO sign of abuse... Foxes are messed up and it's gonna be angsty... Found family please? 🥲 "I'll take care of this, you take care of you."

Andrew is creeping me out😭 I'm sorry why did he keep a knife under his arm at all times

Kevin you rude ass

Not gonna lie the story so far gives off thriller mystery's vibes instead of college sports books. There's a lot of baggage here and there sprinkled with violences

This low-key feels like blue lock... Like the sport is THAT serious. Someone is out here hunting a sports player... Wtf is Riko did in the past... Is he part of the mafia or something... As

He's indeed a part of Japanese mafia I...😭

I dont know if I'm suitable to read this one, please there's just a lot and I'm more of a vanilla guy when it comes to stories... Neil🥲

Matt is a cutie what can I say... I'm excited to meet the girls as well!!!!

I LOVE LOVE LOVE RAGTAGS TEAMS... PURE SHONEN TROPES... everyone is so creative....

Alright. Here's how I will faction the Foxes:

Anger and Chaos: Seth, Andrew, Neil, Allison

Cold and Apathy: Kevin, Aaron, Neil(kinda)

Lively the Sun: Matt, Nicky, Renee, Neil(hopefully soon trust)

Well adjusted: Dan, Neil(he has to be to a degree to survive)

Why is everyone on each others throats damn CHILL it's not that serious...(it is for them) can we just BREATHE... coach wymack why do we even bother.... This is a mess

Neil's first gift🥲😭 I LOVE SUBTLE AFFECTIONS.....

I understand why there's this term "I can fix him." Because, the appeal of it. Ughh okay Andrew... I don't even like possessive tropes WHY DOES THIS ONE WORKS ON ME

Please don't tell me that the gang is spiking Neil's soda... Can one spike a soda? I don't drink so idk.

SEEE... fuck me this gang is shitty. Also fuck Andrew. He's messed up in so many ways he's unsalvageable. WAIT... THEY HAVE BEEN DOING THIS BEFORE? TO OUTSIDERS... 💀

Bro... This is so uncomfortable to read. I don't have the guts to stomache this... I should've read content warnings before reading this book. Nicky is doing outright noncon with that kiss...

Yeah fuck this group actually screw them all. Whatever the reason for this thing is it better be good. I fucking hate it here. thank you COAHCH WYMACK oh my goodness.

Whatever is it with Andrews lunatic loyalty to Kevin doesn't really justify drugging Neil like that and him being harassed??? Hmmm I still haven't seen an apology

Seeing Neil being passed around with the other Foxes is nice to see. Like a montage of how Neil's current dynamic was at this point. Wouldn't be surprised if they made it happen again as a callback. It's cute.

...frankly speaking I didn't like that Neil willingly returned to Columbia with Andrews pack. Dan and Matt was the only sane person in this team... I can understand the whole Columbia outing with the purpose if Andrew want to made sure Neil isn't bringing harm to the group. But then why was Nicky kissing him...?

Overall. I. I really liked the dynamics between characters and how they bounce. this sports shit is SERIOUS. AND YOU WILL DIE! it's like sports shonen manga because the characters are really vibrant... And i like it. (I like haikyuu :g)

And um. Um... Is Seth really dead...? he hasn't even gotten a character arc!!!!!!! He was warming up to Neil, the back clap when Neil scored, and nights bantered along watching movie with Matt. WHAT IS HAPPENIGN

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

Screw me I finished all trilogy... I am having brainrot and withdrawal...

[bitchfitch]

like when Guy started to feel the influence of the Other Thing and realized what was happening to him he looked everywhere for any help he could get. And there really wasn't anything anyone could do for him. An old god picked him, time to right a will and say his goodbyes and hope that he's still Him enough after the merging to not hurt anyone he loved. That's what the end of the story should have been.

But basically everyone he talked to said the some variation of 'Well, there is one thing you could do... But it won't save you in the long run.

because Yeah the Grinning Thing had a good foothold and was usually pretty helpful and about as un-duplicitous as a pupating old god could be. They Could absolutely interfere enough to cut off Other Thing's connection to Guy. It would be easy even! Old gods are territorial bastards, Grinning Thing might not even ask for payment since it would preempt them having to share.

Issue is that there is no way to get Grinning Thing's help without it realizing Guy is wanted.

Grinning Thing doesn't want anything unless someone else wants it. Guy is wanted, so Grinning would want him.

But there's nothing special or unique about guy. He was picked by Other Thing basically at random. Being cut off from him isn't a big deal, Other Thing could just pick someone else to use. Which means that as soon as Guy gets Grinning Thing's help, Other Thing wouldn't want him anymore, so Grinning Thing wouldn't want him anymore. And Grinning Thing is never too nice to things that it stops wanting.

It's an out of the frying pan and into the fires of mount doom situation for Guy if he goes to Grinning Thing for help. At least as Other Thing's vessel he'd still be alive and there was a Chance at it being all ok but no one thought there was any good that could come from getting Grinning Thing's help.

Which is why everyone is really surprised when Guy comes back from his ill advised trip to Grinning Thing's apartment in perfect health and whole of mind... With a shopping list in his hand because Grinning Thing's vessel used to love french toast but never learned how to make it so Guy is going back over to their place tonight to teach them how and watch some old movies.

[eyedelater]

post of various tsurumi thoughts

it's interesting, through all the various flashbacks, to piece together the transformation of tsurumi from a moderately normal person to a miserable, deranged monster. and it's not because of his head injury.

the more i reread, the more every character grows on me. i even really enjoy tsurumi now. like when he's looking at youhei's posthumously adjusted belt with his stern and drippy face and narrating everything to himself. it's like, tsurumi does things in an extra creepy way, but you can tell that because he has lost some kind of control/sensibility, the way he acts is normal to him now? like he's only doing what makes sense to him, even if something's not quite right about it. and it's not the head injury. well, i think it plays a minor role. i think tsurumi was a weird dude to begin with, and then losing his wife and daughter made him much weirder/sadder/worse, and his experience on the battlefield had Some Kind of Effect, and then the head injury just tore down one more mental barrier between his internal proclivity for weirdness and his actual behavior. so he'll sniff things unabashedly, for example. he'll wear a man's skin as a shirt underneath his regular shirt (you could've at least put it on TOP of your shirt). in chapter 34, when he opens that dead guy's shirt and sees that he doesn't have a tattoo, he rubs the corpse's chest absentmindedly (while straddling). how conscious is tsurumi of the fact that he looks and acts super creepy, like, a lot of the time? some of it has to be on purpose (like miming chomping the candle of sugimoto's life) for the sake of intimidation, but he is also conscious of his own charisma and uses it just as often (like batting his eyelashes at edogai-kun). how easy or hard is it for him to flip the switch between scary and admirable, and how easy it for that switch to flip itself to scary by accident? and how much of it is up to the beholder?

much of his talent for manipulation is dependent on his self-control, which seems to be eroded at this point in his life. the volume version of the scene in chapter 211 (where tsurumi meets asirpa) is very important to tsurumi's character because he actually loses his composure to a higher degree than in any other scene. (in the magazine version, he does not lose his composure. it's a very significant change.) i mean, in other scenes, he "loses it" in a scary way, but always in pursuit of whatever he's doing or trying to do. like he bites off wada's finger as his first instance of "losing it," but he was going to kill wada anyway because he was in his way, so it didn't matter. and he went off the rails a little when he was gnashing his teeth at sugimoto and calling himself a shinigami, but i think a lot of that was for the sake of intimidation. when he meets asirpa, it's different. there is no underlying purpose. in fact, he loses it in a way that undermines his purpose. in that scene, he just can't stop laughing and laughing and dripping CSF and the scene grinds to a halt because he's the main guy and he's not doing what he's supposed to do and everyone's like "uhhhh this never happened before..?!" and that gives asirpa the opening to escape. he just couldn't contain himself when he saw her eyes that looked just like wilk's...

another thing about tsurumi. we know that he knew koito and tsukishima were listening when he was talking to asirpa and sofia in the church, so it's likely that he made sure to say what they wanted to hear about how his true goal was to fight for the sake of japan. the reader must then puzzle out how much of that was what he really believes and how much of his motives are based on avenging his wife and daughter. i think that in the end, tsurumi himself lost sight of which he was really fighting for. i think that when we see tsurumi's sad and painful face after he loses their finger bones on the train tracks, what he's feeling right then is like, "wait, without them, what am i doing this for?" right before he drops their bones, he makes the decision to reach for the land deed instead, and then he instantly regrets it, because no matter what he told himself or others, a very large part of what he cared about this whole time was based on them and not on the future of japan at all. and then tsurumi dies without fully sorting those feelings out, which is an appropriate end.

(i mean, we don't see him die, just like how we don't see sugimoto die, and then sugimoto turns up alive, so i guess it is possible that tsurumi didn't die and just went off into hiding somewhere. EDIT: actually an omake was added to volume 31 that shows that tsurumi survived his trip into hakodate bay. someone pointed out in the notes of this post that you can see aged tsurumi in the last panel of that omake. i didn't notice him there when i first read the omake even though i thought i looked at everyone really hard. but what matters in the end is that the story ended without him and he never interferes in tsukishima's or koito's lives ever again.)

when tsurumi starts leaking CSF, it's like punctuation. it changes the color of whatever is being done or said and additional meaning becomes apparent.

when tsurumi doesn't have his headplate on AND doesn't have a bandage covering it, he looks kind of pathetic. that's why he ordered the headplate even though it makes him look kinda scary. it's better to be feared than pitied. he can embrace the weirdness of having a big piece of equipment strapped to his face. he can't embrace the piteousness of having a big delicate injury on his face.

if wilk, kiroranke, and sofia hadn't been with hasegawa (tsurumi) when the secret police came to capture him, he most likely would have been captured and probably tortured and maybe killed. they had figured out that he was a spy, after all. if fina hadn't come back, she and olga would have survived, but they still wouldn't have been able to reunite as a family unless hasegawa managed to escape imprisonment the russian government, and then what? how could he live happily with them as a fugitive spy? he didn't know it at the time, but from the moment the secret police started heading toward his house, hasegawa's life was almost certainly on a downward trajectory, regardless of who else was there. yet he vehemently blames wilk and the others. does tsurumi think that it would have been better if he had been captured (and maybe killed) as long as his wife and daughter could survive? maybe. that casts something of a shadow on his patriotism, though, doesn't it? if he thinks he can personally do sooo much for japan, but he would have sacrificed himself for his wife and daughter... i dunno.

in the volume version of chapter 225, when tsurumi is talking to his judo master in niigata (part of the flashback of usami's history), they're speaking in what seems to be the echigo dialect of niigata. it wasn't like that in the magazine version; noda-sensei went back and changed basically all of the dialogue in that flashback into dialect. that means usami and everyone around him is also speaking it. (and unlike the change he made to koito's satsuma dialect, where he basically strengthened/corrected the lines from sorta-dialect into proper dialect, in this scene, everyone was speaking standard japanese in the old version.) example: tsurumi said to his master, "I was able to see something interesting, Master…" magazine (standard japanese) : "omoshiroi mono ga miremashita yo sensei…" volume (echigo dialect) : "omoshire- mon wo mikkoto ga dekimashita te sensei…" the meaning didn't change at all. echigo-ben is not hard to understand like satsuma-ben. ok it's a little hard to understand. and it seems to be very similar to tsukishima's sado dialect, since they're both in niigata, but there was hardly any sado dialect actually written in dialogue in the manga for comparison. anyway we can add tsurumi to our list of golden kamuy dialect speakers who suppressed it and learned how to speak standard japanese for their military job. and of course this is a big thing he has in common with usami now.

the people around tsurumi really see in him what they want to see. a lot of the time, tsurumi has finagled it so that what they want to see in him is also what he wants them to see in him, and the effect is that they love him. those who look up to him ignore the scary parts even when they see them. probably everyone who was nearby when he lost his cool after meeting asirpa has blocked that scene from their memory or found some way to write it off.

"He's doing something scary behind me… I just know he's doing something fucked up and scary behind me…"

[cow-smells]

Eli/Hawk x Reader: Changes

Request: Can you do a Hawk x reader where they are dating since a long time and y/n tries to handle with his change from Eli to Hawk? @sophiahardy912

A/N: Thought I’d write all cutesy lovey dovey fluffy smutty things but then this angst came out? sorry if i failed you idk what happened here

Words: 2054

Warning: A few cuss words

----

Eli wasn't... Eli anymore.

Not just in a metaphorical way – he was Hawk now, inside and out. At first it was a refreshing change – you loved Eli back when he was introverted and lacking in confidence, but now Eli loved himself, and that was surely better.

    Confidence is a good thing. Right?

You remembered the day he texted you 'Dig it?' attached to a photo of him – classic brunette gone, dyed down and gelled up to a Blue Mohawk.

The phrase 'dig it' by itself was previously foreign to the boy, so of course the new bold hairstyle was a big shock for you. Not a bad one, just unexpected. Even more unexpected was the new attitude that came with it.

When Eli walked up to you the next day at school, he adopted a strut that came with his new hair and attire. You almost didn't recognize him without one of the comfy sweaters he previously would wear, the ones you would steal borrow when you'd go over to his on date night.

    It had been a while since you had one of those date nights – Eli wasn't fond of spending too much time in public, always feeling like people were staring at his lip – so you'd often spend the night at his house, watching some horror movie late in to the night, laughing together at cheap, unconvincing productions. Or, even better – clinging to him when a movie really was scary, finding an excuse to casually entwine yourself around him. You loved how he would turn red every time, as though you haven't been together for a long time now.

The last date night you two had was... unusual, yet exciting all the same.

Eli had been Hawk for a while now, and things were taking a turn for the worse. At first it was nice – Eli would link your pinkie fingers together under the table at lunch, Hawk would put his arm around you as you two walked down the hallways between classes. Eli cowered when anyone would so much as look at him; Hawk would shut down anyone who tried to start with him.

You didn't mind it, so to speak, when he got in to a fight with his former bullies. You were worried, of course, but Hawk knew how to handle himself. He beat the shit out of them and after years of Kyler and co taunting him, it felt like fair karma at play. You were actually proud. Hawk came home on cloud nine that day and you were all for being his cheerleader; it ended up being a night of great celebrations.

However, these days he was getting exceedingly violent with anyone who would look at him wrong. It was one thing paying back those who wronged him, but the whole karate thing was getting out of hand; it came to a red line for you once you saw his treatment of Demetri, the only one other than you and Miguel who accepted him far before he accepted himself.

You two had gotten in to a serious argument, Hawk stating that Demetri's treatment is his own doing for being such a nerd, you telling him to grow up.

A couple of days went by with you giving him the silent treatment. Hawk thought he'd just slide in by you the next day at lunch, kiss you and everything would be fine – but you weren't having it. If he didn't mind throwing Demetri under the bus so quickly, how long until that was you instead?

Not talking to Eli proved harder to do than you thought. After so long together it was strange, suddenly having this wall between you two. It had only been a couple of days of you riding the bus to school rather than on his motorcycle with him and you already felt an insistent pit in your stomach that refused to go away, no matter how hard you tried to distract yourself with schoolwork and your other friends.

So unsurprisingly, when Hawk texted you asking you to meet him at an unfamiliar address, you agreed.

It was dark out – the only people you saw around the road you were going down were a couple of shady looking dudes, only obviously under the influence.

You checked your phone again to make sure you were going the right way.

    “You made it!”

Eli's voice startled you, making you look up from your phone. Illuminated by the blue florescent lights from the shop he stood outside of, he seemed... relieved.

    “Yeah,” you answered simply, your eagerness to make up disapparating in to an unconfident hesitation. “what are we doing out here?”

    “Look,” Hawk took one of your hands in his. “I don't wanna lose you. And if that means being nicer to Demetri or whoever of those dorks, whatever. I can live with that. But not without you.”

You hated how he knew exactly what to say, even if it wasn't prefect. It was enough.

    “You didn't answer,” you said, allowing a flirtatious tone to creep up. “What are we doing here?”

Eli smiled, a smile that was more Hawk than Eli, and pulled you in to the shop after him, knowing he was well on his way to winning you over.

    “This is my guy, Rico,” Hawk introduced, fist bumping the older man. Between the familiar name, funny looking chair and sketches on the walls, you knew exactly where you were and what was about to happen.

    “Eli?” you tentatively called as Hawk guestued for you to sit in a chair behind the funky-looking one. Rico adjusted said chair and motioned for Hawk to come over. Eli sat on the chair, his back to you.

    “You sure about this?” Rico asked, preparing ink on a side table. “Sure,” Hawk answered confidently.

Naturally, your curiosity got you up on your feet towards Eli's other side – of course you wanted to know what he was getting inked – but Hawk quickly protested.

    “Stay over there!” he scolded playfully. “It's a surprise.”

The machine started buzzing and even though it wasn't you who was getting anything done, adrenaline started rushing, making you a giddy mess, forgetting all about your previous fight. As needle pierced skin, you spent the time waiting making assumptions over what Hawk was getting on him – at first you guessed the Cobra Kai snake, later guessing Sensei Lawrence in a heart – a suggestion that made Eli laugh particularly hard, in that way that he used to laugh when it was just the two of you (this earned a scolding from Rico, who couldn't get the work done if his canvas was jittering about).

It must have been twenty minutes at best before Hawk rose from the chair and turned to you, gesturing to the new piece over his heart – a heart with your name in it.

Was it possible to have your heart sink and jump simultaneously? On the one hand, you were realistic, and there would probably come a day where he'd regret this – a thought that made you sick. On the other hand, it was the most romantic thing you've ever experienced, and it was unlikely for anyone else to ever top that.

What was done was done, so you shoved aside any negativity and allowed yourself to revel in the love you felt, showering Hawk with kisses that quickly turned in to a deep, longing kiss – until Rico politely suggested you take the show elsewhere.

    Apparently “being nicer to Demetri” meant ignoring him altogether, besides some threatening looks. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than the alternative, so you let go of it despite it seeming like Hawk was constantly on the edge.

You were ready for another date night – the first since the tattoo parlor – ready to get away from school and its drama, just to spend some quality time with your boyfriend.

Now that he wasn't shy anymore, he suggested going to see a film in an actual movie theatre, which was exactly what you were doing.

The two of you split up – you needed to go to the bathroom so Hawk stood in line for tickets. By the time you had come out you had lost sight of your boyfriend – the crowd around the ticket stalls had suddenly increased.

    “You looking for someone?” a male voice asked. Turning around, a couple of guys you didn't know were approaching you. “Think you'd have more fun with us.”

Just as they reached you, a hand grabbed your arm. You were relieved to turn and see Eli – but he wasn't even looking at you. His eyes were locked with one of the guys – you could feel the tension in the air.

     “Eli, no,” you whispered firmly. His grip on you tightened, moving you aside – but you weren't going to stand for it. You stepped in front of him, grabbing hold of him as he did to you. “You start something, I walk.” your voice was low, not wanting those guys to hear, but serious enough to make Hawk understand you weren't playing around.

With a grunt, he looked down at you, took your hand and walked away.

You optimistically thought the worst was blown over.

You and Hawk were waiting outside the theatre to be let in, chatting away when Hawk stopped you mid sentence with a kiss.

Another pleasant surprise about Eli's newfound confidence was how willing he was to show affection to you publicly, while before you two could pass off as acquaintances at best.

It was rather random but you accepted the kiss – even when he deepened it, getting closer to you, pulling you closer to him.

His hands started sliding lower.

It wasn't anything you haven't done in the privacy of your bedrooms, but to get that intimate in public, in broad daylight – it was too much for your liking.

    “Eli -” you called, pushing away from him. He didn't allow it.

Pulling your hips to his with one hand on your bum, his other went up to hold your chin, tilting it back to grant him access. He managed to hold you for a moment before you mustered up the power to push him a few steps away from you.

    Hawk was visually surprised – whether because of you or himself, you were unsure.

    “What the fuck was that?” you asked, not bothering to keep your voice down this time.

Despite trying so hard to become this new person, new Eli still had old Eli's tells – and a quick glance he threw aside told you everything you needed to know.

Following his line of sight, the two guys from earlier stood there, watching the scene unfold.

    “So that's what this is about?” you huffed. “some territory marking thing?”

Hawk struggled to gather his words, his bottom lip bobbing wordlessly a couple of times before he spoke. “Look, you didn't want me to take care of it out there, so-”

     “So you do whatever you want with me? Like I'm nothing?”

    “Y/n, you know it's not like that-”

    “So what is it like?”

When Hawk didn't immediately respond, you turned on your heel to the exit. Hawk followed you outside.

    “Come on, Y/n, you know I'd never hurt you!”

    “You just did!” you yelled back. “you... I don't know you anymore, and I say that in the worst way.”

    “What,” Hawk huffed, “you want me to go back to being a pansy? 'Cause that's not going to happen.”

    “You know what's the worst out of all this?” you asked, coming to face Hawk. “at first I thought it was cool, you being all tough. Seeing Kyler become afraid of you. I thought it was great. But now... Now I'm afraid of you.”

Hawk frowned, the realization dawning upon him. “C'mon...” he lifted his shirt to show the heart tattoo dedicated to you. “Doesn't this mean anything to you?”

    “Make it mean something.” you replied with a heavy heart, taking a step back and left, leaving Hawk standing alone in the parking lot.

[tenebrius-excellium]

Okay I need to get one (1) more Avatar post out there because it really bothered me that I couldn’t quite place the movie in the “Good” or “Bad” category (for me that meant “Rewatch in theaters or not”). I have now decided that it is bad.

James Cameron strikes me as too intelligent a guy to ruin this movie this much. His neglect of characters & storytelling is outright malicious, ill intent at a point where he had 13 years to make it work. To betray your audience like that. Dude.

Nevertheless, there were some positives, and I’m gonna make a list of the goods and bads that made it so hard to decide and ultimately struck the deal for me:

~ Good ~

- The beginning. It wasn’t rushed, it was given some time to adjust to the universe again. It was smart enough, too. Like, the Songcord, the eclipse, the explanation as to how the switch to English happened and how Quaritch came back. The introduction of Kiri and Spider kept me on the edge of my seat, that was suuuuper creative!!!

- visuals, obviously

- I loved every Kiri/Spider interaction on screen, they clearly like each other

- Neytiri’s struggle. Neytiri’s grief, Neytiri’s wrath, everything about Neytiri. Her Ikran-riding is a spectacle each and every time. The movie knew that as a strength, and deliciously played to it. 

- the scene where Jake and Neytiri (and Neteyam) first rescue the kids was EPIC TO THE CORE. Remember the animal sound Neytiri made and that subtle, knowing exchange of looks between the boys as they recognized it was them coming to save them. The silence and tension of their guerilla stealth tactic approach. The anger. The brutality. The hatchet. Look, I’m not usually a fan of these jokes but Lo’ak giving Quaritch two middle fingers was so satisfying and so trademark Jake that I couldn’t help but enjoy it. 

- Metkayina village and Lo’ak’s bonding with Payakan. Also the underwater breathing butterflies hnnnnnnghhh so beautiful!

- Quaritch’s Ikran

- Spider having nothing to do but me understanding that well. Him retracing the history of the human/Navi conflict for himself before making his move is actually thoughtful and essential to me.

- the fact that the action picked up at the exact right moment after the prolonged, fairly dreamy middle part.

- that moment where everyone was getting off the ship and *just* peacefully trying to get away and then Quaritch provokes Jake and he’s like: “Well, then let’s get it over with.” Like, at this point, Jake didn’t even want to fight anymore. It was because Quaritch insisted on being inevitable, not because Jake had a personal vendetta against him anymore. That’s when Jake really became the heroic martyr Dad, not when he was riding towards the boat on his Skimwing because Quaritch had Tuk or whatever. Jake was not willing enough at first. He was going to surrender himself for all the wrong reasons. It was when Quaritch made it about a personal showdown that Jake realized he was doing it for his family and not for his pride anymore. So that moment - where Jake turns around on that ship and faces Quaritch, that moment was fantastic.

- the ship going upside down was a great development as well and far more cool than flying aircrafts crashing into random collateral trees. I may have thought of Titanic shortly, but ended up not caring because the context was different enough. 

- Kiri’s moment and her explosion in warm yellow. It was perfect. I wish I could have been her in that moment so badly. Just to be strange and beautiful and calming and helpful.

- Jake and Neytiri being able to visit Neteyam’s memory. I didn’t know I needed that kind of comfort at the end of the movie, but I did and I’m glad it happened.

~ Bad ~

- welp. Things got repetitive real fast and I was catching on to the fact that this movie would not become any more original the longer it took. How many times did Quaritch kidnap the kids? Three, four times? Come on.

- Soundtrack was nonexistent-boring. I expected far more.

- too many loose ends. Ronal’s behavior wasn’t explained, the Tulkun raid did not build up healthily and therefore randomly took up space that was meant to get us emotionally invested but didn’t, the brain amber thing was thrown in without further mention, Jake didn’t have an arc, Kiri’s seizure, and so on and so forth.

- the overall absence of character development, characters in certain situations, and logical plot. Oof. 

- Tsireya got a hotgirl moment like it was Baywatch and I found it very off-putting.

- Neteyam’s death was (almost) effectively pointless because we weren’t rooting for him. He did not have a personality or an established arc. I’ve seen people saying that Tsireya’s love story with Lo’ak should have been given to him, and I agree. Lo’ak had his hands full with arcs while Neteyam seemed like a ghost.

- Jake was inactive, ineffective, passive, absent, ugh I know I’m ranting. I expected him to form some kind of counterattack but he just...didn’t? Why?

- Final point: The bullying. That was by far the worst part for me and the reason I deem Avatar The Way Of Water ‘bad’. The Navi people were supposed to be somewhat better than humans. They were supposed to “see” each other on a deeper level and treat each other with more respect. Not to say they can’t have quarrels, but not like this. I can’t really believe there supposedly hasn’t been any previous exchange between the Navi races to the point where the differences of their appearance would be this alienating. They of all people were supposed to appreciate each other’s vast uniqueness. Bullying seemed to be Aonung’s entire personality - he deserved better. On a side note, the kind of bullying displayed was so 2010 and I was so over it. So done. So boring and unimaginative. Weak and unnecessary. 

Anyway, this was the deciding element that made me go “nope, I actually don’t want to see this movie again because I will have to sit through that scene and I will loathe the entire experience because of it.” Yup. Sorry.

If I see the movie again on DVD or something, I will always end up skipping that scene because it’s just too stupid for my taste. Du-dum. 

All in all, great start, wonderful creative elements. Progressed poorly. Ending okay and hopeful. That’s it, now that I got this off my chest, I can hopefully stop talking about this movie.

[superphantom]

Enthralled with the idea of Danny from Danny legit dies and has a physical corpse but can still kinda be human au and the Winchesters from just regular canon bumping into each other while... hiding bodies.

Three teens carrying a fourth by his arms and legs into the woods. Would they even be able to tell that it’s Danny’s corpse? It’s gotta be pretty much cooked through at that point. Hold on, I’m going to write something rq, apologies for any mistakes/bad writing but the concept is just too fun. If you think so too, go ahead and try your hand at it, this has so many excellent interpretations.

Edit but not really cuz I haven’t actually posted anything yet: I’ve only read back through this once but I’m pretty happy with how it’s turned out, just wanted to add a quick warning for horrific death and descriptions of a corpse and all that. 

--

Digging graves always sucked, naturally. It’s hard to plow through a good six feet of rocks and dirt and bones and whatever other crap might be waiting below the surface (one time, in some backwoods in Ohio they’d hit a bathtub around three feet down. Never got an explanation for that one). But, of course, the muggy pits of July made things much worse.

Sam had shed his top layer in the car, and was now down to a single shirt. He probably would’ve taken that off too, had it not been glued onto his back from sweat. Dean, who’d made a dig at Sam earlier that night for not being able to “take the heat like a man” still wore his flannel over his shirt, though it was beginning to soak through.

Laborious elements aside, what really made grave digging so tedious was the inability to fill it with anything else. It wasn’t like they could play music or anything, when they were in graveyards they had to keep a low profile, and all the other smart places to go hiding a corpse don’t get radio reception. And talking? With the amount of dust and dirt they kicked up, not to mention the work itself, it was more like trying to reason with a bully as they threw sand in your face. Gritty, painful, and overall, not worth it. So the brothers dug side by side with only light from a half-dead camping lantern and the singing of insects to keep them company.

Sam hit a rock with the tip of his shovel to knock it loose from the wall, the scooped it up and heaved it over the side of the grave. It was still only about knee height, meaning they’d have to put in another two hours minimum if they wanted to get the man hidden.

He’d been working with a witch to dodge death as he cheated his way through some shady business dealings. Actually, he’d been fairly easy to subdue- probably why he needed the witch in the first place- but once Dean had yanked the hexbag from where it hung around his stick-figure neck he’d begun to convulse and when he stopped, well, he wasn’t going to start convulsing again. That, however, was a problem for tomorrow.

Sam knocked a few rocks loose this time, letting them pile around his feet then launching them all over his shoulder at once. With the sound of metal clacking against rock gone, he realized Dean had stopped digging and was leaning against the handle of his shovel cautiously looking out into the woods. Sam moved in next to him and tried to figure out where he was looking.

“What are y-“ he asked. Dean shushed him before he could finish, then signaled for him to listen and pointed just past a thick bramble, to a gap between two trees. It would’ve been impossible to spot without years of hunting experience, out about 100 yards away were little moving. They weren’t even shadows, it was simply just movement in the dark. “Dude-“

Dean shushed him again, and shot him a dirty look before pointing more forcefully in the direction of the movement and focusing back in place. He gestured once again for Sam to listen. For a few moments they stood in silence, barely breathing. It was faint, but Sam began to make out what was unmistakably English. a dull beam of light swung around towards them then went back to facing the other direction, effectively re-blacking out the figures. Sam reached back, not taking his eyes off the movement, and now occasional glimpses of light, and snapped off the lantern.

It took a few seconds for their eyes to adjust to the dark. Once they could see each other again, Dean tilted his head to the left, pointed a few times with two fingers in a two directions then held one finger against his mouth. Sam nodded and they both began creeping in opposite directions with the intention of surrounding who or what was having a chat out in the woods at night.

Sam moved as if he were gliding above the forest floor. He could vaguely make out Dean doing the same, though he was now could see Dean about as well as he’d been able to see the... three? He hovered further. Definitely three people (or, by his guess witches), earlier. Now that he was getting closer, though, he began to take note of a few things.

There were three short witches(?) standing fanned out around something slumped on the forest floor, their dying halogen flashlight held limp in one of their hands, flickering sadly. The witch farthest from flashlight-witch and closest to Sam held a shovel, though didn’t make any moves to use it. None of them moved, they all just stood there and stared at whatever was at their feet.

He signaled to Dean that he was going to go in from the front. He was pretty sure he saw the shadows nod to him, so he took that as an okay. Like a mouse on cotton, he positioned himself just far enough into the forest that they couldn’t quite see, Dean doing the same but behind them.

“I- What do we do?” the one holding the flashlight muttered. His nose was awfully clogged, it sounded like he’d been crying.

“I don’t know, Tuck.” The one holding the shovel answered. She also sounded upset, but more like she was doing everything she could to push back tears, a tone that Sam knew very well. “Danny, are you sure you wanna do this?”

The one in the middle, Danny, shook his head. Each of his arms reached across his middle, like he was trying to hug himself, or maybe more like he was trying to make himself look small, trying to hide. “I-“ his voice cracked and he let out a few sobs. The leaves and sticks made a simultaneous crack as he fell down onto his knees, folding over himself and shaking with pure, cutting sorrow.

Flashlight, or Tuck apparently, and Shovel got down beside him, hugging him from either side. They held one another and sobbed, one of them, Shovel, creaking out some pained “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry”’s between wordless wails. From the looks of them, they couldn’t be more than 12 years old. Or maybe they could, Sam wasn’t a pediatrician. They were undoubtedly much too young to be in the middle of nowhere, all alone in a fragile mental state doing who-knows-what.

Sam looked to Dean then gestured with his head to let him know he was going to talk to the kids. Dean shook his head and violently gestured with his gun at the kids. Wait. Not /at/ the kids, beyond them. He’d neglected studying the white-wrapped body in front of them. That explained the tears. He couldn’t help but feel for them, even though for all he knew they’d just murdered someone in cold blood. He looked back to Dean and nodded, then signaled again.

Keeping his gun at the ready, but tucking it behind his back he slowly and deliberately stepped out of the trees, intentionally making noise so they’d see him coming. Tuck looked up with bloodshot eyes and a runny nose. Danny and Shovel tensed but didn’t further acknowledge him.

“Um, hey,” he said, trying his best for nonthreatening and landing at the border of creepy and awkward. “Are you guys good?”

Tuck’s eyes flooded with tears, but he got up on shaky legs, trying to pull Danny and Shovel up with him. They weakly joined him, leaning against one another for support. Despite the warm night, all three were trembling.

“I’m, uh, I’m not here to hurt you,” Sam started, not really sure where he was going with this, “I’m Sam Winchester, what are your names?”

Tuck gave him the same watery stare he’d had the whole time, like Sam was the saddest thing he’d ever seen. Shovel looked up next, she was more angry. Maybe her smeared and ruined makeup should’ve made her look silly, but all it did was add to the aggression she exuded. He could see her squeezing both her friend’s shoulders and tugging them very slightly to the left, wordlessly signaling- or at least trying to- an escape plan. Sam pretended not to notice.

“I just wanna know what happened here,” he inched his way towards the corpse. As he got closer he could smell burnt hair and flesh, another thing he was all too familiar with. He didn’t break eye contact as he squatted down and gently pulled the sheet back from a tuft of what he assumed was hair.

He bit the inside of his cheek upon seeing the boy. Fried was the only word that could describe him. His mouth hung open, as did his eyes- or at least, what was left of them. Ooze had dribbled from every orifice and re-solidified in horrible mauve blobs. His hair was barely more than a charred mess, his skin was peeling and bubbled in places, and so discolored Sam could barely make out the dusting of freckles across his nose. This was a death in agony if he’d ever seen one.

He folded the cloth back over the boy’s head and straightened up, pulling the gun from where it had waited behind his back.

“Alright,” he said firmly, “I’m gonna need some answers.”

Danny looked up, letting Sam properly see his face for the first time. His red-rimmed eyes widened at the sight of the gun, lips tightening into a thin line. It was a look of fear and resignation. He ran the back of his hand across his nose. Sam noticed a dusting of freckles on it. He looked to the sheet and then back to Danny, then checked once more.

“What the hell is going on here.” Sympathy gone, Sam allowed himself to posture intimidatingly. Whatever freaks these- these- these... freaks! were, they weren’t about to get away with cooking some kid alive. “Talk.”

The “or I’ll shoot” was silent, but understood. Danny cleared his throat, one hand rubbed nervously on the back of his neck.

“It- I-“ he stuttered, then in a barely audible trembling voice he said, “I, uh, I think I’m dead.”  

[maria-akira]

good girls don't get used: michael langdon x fem! reader

—♡—

READ PART 2 HERE

summary: michael langdon, your ex, falls into a bet wherein he has to (fake) date you. if he falls in love again, he loses and doesn't get the prize.

warnings: private school au, fuckboy!michael, slight mention of sexual topics + i didnt proofread this mwahaha

this fic is inspired by the song 'good girls (don't get used)' by beach bunny.

i don't know if other private schools have bells, because mine doesn't :(

italicized bold words are direct lyrics from the song. but in this chapter, there are none since this is like an intro :)

—♡—

"Dude, shut the fuck up."

"Are you kidding? She really said that?"

"You really think that's gonna happen?"

"Who's class do you have first?"

Voices of different students flooded the white and grey hallways of the school. Different friend groups and teachers can be seen roaming the halls, getting stuff from their respective lockers as they waited for the bell to ring.

"Y/N! Do you mind if I borrow your calculator? I forgot mine at home and Math is my next class." She said while panting.

"Sure, here it is. If you lose it, I'd probably drop kick your ass." Y/N let out a small laugh and grabbed the calculator from her locker, giving it to her friend.

"Gosh, Y/N. I'll never lose it! I'll give it back during recess. Thanks again!" She flashed Y/N a smile and waved bye, before returning to her locker.

Y/N looked at herself in the mirror she had on her locker, fixing the tie that always seemed to be out of place whenever she checked. Her hair was neat, complete with a white headband that complimented the color of her school's uniform.

A few seconds later, the bell rang and everybody started rushing. Different couples were seen kissing before they parted ways for the mean time.

Cringe. Y/N thought. She shrugged it off and held her books tightly to her chest, walking to her next class.

Walking straight into the classroom, she noticed a group of guys dart their eyes to her direction as she entered. They gave her weird smirks. In return, she stared back at them while she made her way to her seat and never broke eye contact. Eventually, she noticed a familiar face among the group.

Michael, her ex.

How the fuck is he in my English class? She thought, along with a whole hundred thoughts roaming around her head. Michael stared back at her, giving her a wink.

Y/N's face gave a hint of disgust, "The fuck do you want, Langdon?" She stood up from her seat and walked over to Michael, pushing his other friends. She heard his friends coo and tease Michael for his act towards her.

Michael put up his hands in defense, "Chill, is it bad to wink at a pretty girl like you?" He said with a smug look, while he grazed his hand over her arm.

"Shut the fuck up, Langdon. Don't you ever touch me." Y/N slapped his hand away, his friends taken aback from her actions. As she walked back to her seat, the teacher entered as well.

Y/N put her face in her hands. By now, a million thoughts were in her head. It's been 2 years since Michael and her broke up, and since then, she made a promise to herself that she would never fall in love with men like him. She was so tired of all the tears and sleepless nights that Michael gave her.

She let out a sigh and lifted her head from her hands. The soft light from the windows filled her eyes after the darkness formed by her hands, causing her to rub her eyes to adjust from the light.

The rest of the hour went smoothly for Y/N, after English class was recess, her most favorite time of the day— aside from going home, of course.

She glanced at her watch, 10:28 AM.

2 more minutes, and English will be over. She thought.

She averted her gaze back on the white board full of scribbles about some writing lesson she clearly did not listen to. She looked over to her classmates and friends, Well they aren't listening either. She laughed at the thought.

As soon at the bell rang, everyone started packing up their notebooks, textbooks, and whatever they had on their table. Every student was seen rushing out of every classroom in hopes of being the first ones in line for the cafeteria.

On the way there, Y/N bumped into her friend group. "Hey Y/N! We heard about happened in English class. Michael is really in your class?" A friend of hers mentioned, "Yea, and apparently that son of a bitch winked at me, such a disgusting ass motherfucker. he should keep his fuck boy ass to himself." Y/N spat out, earning a chorus of 'oh's' from her friends.

When they arrived at the cafeteria, the line was painfully long, all of them groaned in frustration and they had no choice but to wait for the line to move. But once it did, it was faster than usual. After Y/N and her friends received their food, they left the cafeteria to eat at their usual place.

The school rooftop.

A few students know that staying in the school rooftop is permitted, which was why Y/N and her friends loved eating there.

When they arrived at the rooftop, they saw the usual people that they always encounter while staying there. The view was beautiful, there was no doubt about it. The small garden in the rooftop gave a beautiful and elegant touch.

Though there were a few chairs and tables, Y/N and her friends always preferred to eat on the floor. So, they laid the linen cloth on the ground and sat on it. Y/N was wearing the skirt uniform, thus she removed her tux and placed it on her legs to prevent her skirt from lifting.

They shared a few giggles while they ate their meals, laughing about some life experiences, or whatever they wanted to talk about.

Y/N loved this. She loved how she and her friends would have little moments like these, it was like an escape from reality.

The rest of the day went smoothly for Y/N. She didn't fall asleep in any of her classes, which in this case was a very big accomplishment for her.

As soon as she arrived home, her little brother, Aaron, rushed towards her. "Y/N!! I missed you!" He chimed, Y/N kneeled down onto his level and gave him the tightest hug. "I missed you too, Aaron!" Her mom came into the room and smiled. Y/N stood up and gave her mom a hug as well.

"How was school?" Her mom asked, Y/N placed her tux on the coat hanger by the door. "It was fine, Mom. Where's Dad?" Y/N walked over to the fridge and poured herself a glass of milk, "He'll be home soon, he still has a meeting right now." She took a sip of her milk, "Oh, okay. I'll be upstairs doing school work." The glass of milk that was once full, now empty.

She took her things upstairs and plopped herself on the bed. Out of nowhere she felt a vibrating noise from her bag, she rummaged through her bag to find her phone and once she did, a message was see on her lockscreen.

Unknown Sender has sent you a message.

She unlocked her phone and went to her messages.

Unknown Sender: hey ;)

Her eyebrows furrowed. What the fuck?

(Y/N): hi? whos this?

read 2:29 pm

Unknown Sender: oh shit you deleted my number? damn.

"Huh? I don't recall deleting anyone's number..." She went to her recently deleted contacts and it showed nothing.

(Y/N): im sorry, i haven't deleted anyone's number recently, maybe you have the wrong number?

read 2:32 pm

Unknown Sender: im pretty sure you know me, Y/N.

They know my name. And her heart started pounding.

(Y/N): and im pretty sure i dont, so just reveal yourself before i report this number

read 2:35pm

Unknown Sender: ayo chill 😬 its me michael.

"Michael fucking Langdon? You've got to be fucking me right now." She felt rage fill her, slamming her keyboard.

(Y/N): langdon what the fuck do you want? i made it very clear that i dont want you talking to me.

read 2:40 pm

Before Michael could reply, she changed his contact name to 'Motherfucker'

You have changed Unknown Sender's contact name as 'Motherfucker'

Motherfucker: damn you still mad at me after 2 years? gosh (Y/N). whats with the nickname?

(Y/N): of course im still mad, asshole. ill never forget what you fucking did.

read 2:43 pm

Motherfucker: i thought you forgave me 🥺

(Y/N): FORGIVE YOU???? god langdon you're so fucking stupid, i will never forgive you. you didnt even say sorry in the first place!

Pissed off, Y/N blocked his number. "That fucking asshole." She mumbled to herself.

—

"Hey! Y/N!" A familar voice called out from the crowd. Y/N removed one earbud and turned around to find the voice that called her.

Once she saw the shiny blonde locks from that stood out in the crowd, she immediately ran in the opposite direction in hopes of avoiding him.

It was Michael, again.

"Y/N wait!" Michael called out again, chasing her

For some reason, Michael was able to catch her. He pulled Y/N into an empty science laboratory and they were both panting.

"What the fuck do you want this time, Langdon?" Y/N was catching her breath, fanning herself with her hand.

"Okay. First off, sorry for the sudden message. I know I pissed you off and that wasn't my intention at a—"

"What was your intention then?" She cut him off.

Michael panicked.

"Uh, you know? I just wanna talk to you again. Clear the bad air between us.."

Y/N let out a laugh, "Clear the bad air?? Oh gooood Langdon, you are really so stupid! You know what? You just made it worse." She pushed him off and walked out of the room,

"Whatever it is your planning, Langdon, I'm telling to stop it. I don't wanna talk to you or even go near you."

Michael was dumbfounded. She changed so much. He thought to himself.

2 years ago, Y/N was the sweetest, most innocent girl he knew. Playing with her feelings was Michael's biggest regret, and he's starting to feel it again.

Michael was about to leave the room until he felt a buzzing from his pocket, He pulls out his phone to see who was calling him.

Duncan, one of his bestfriends.

Michael answered the call, "Hello?"

"What's the update on your little girl?"

"She still doesn't trust me."

"That's sad man."

"I know. She changed alot. "

"What do you mean by 'changed'?" Duncan emphasized,

"I can't point it out, Dunc."

"Whatever you do, don't chicken out. I promise this bet is worth it."

"Fine, I trust you."

Call Ended.

Michael ran his fingers through his hair in frustration and left the room before the bell rang.

—

It was the last subject of the day. Most students were falling asleep or on their phones.

Y/N was scribbling weird things on the back of her notebook, when suddenly the bell rang. She packed up her stuff and stood up from her seat. Before she could leave the room, she saw a familiar face again.

Michael stood by the doorway of her classroom, the strap of his bag over one shoulder while he looked for Y/N among the other students.

Y/N ignored Michael and walked past him, but he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her towards him.

"Langdon! What the fuck do you want?!" She screamed, all of the students averting their attention to her.

Michael put a finger on his lips, shushing her. "Let's go somewhere private, yea?"

"But—"

Before she could object, Michael dragged her outside towards the parking lot.

"Okay this is actually something serious—"

"CUT THE SHIT LANGDON! IM TIRED OF YOU."

"Woah‐woah! Easy now. I actually need your help, with school..."

Michael rubbed her shoulders, looking straight into her eyes. For once, Y/N believed him. His eyes were speaking the truth.

"Okay, fine. Shoot."

"I can't believe I'm saying this.."

"Don't waste my time, Langdon."

"Fine! I'm failing."

Y/N's mouth hung open. Michael was one of the top students in their batch and this was obviously a huge surprise for her.

"Oh, really? What am I gonna do about that?" She crossed her arms and cocked her head to the side.

"Can you please help me? Like, tutor me?" At this point, Michael was desperate.

"Um, no thanks. Just fuck some other girl's pussy for your grades." Y/N pushed him away, but Michael stopped her again.

"I'm serious, Y/N. I really need your help."

"Why me?"

Now that made Michael nervous.

"Because you happen to be the top of our batch right now?"

"Fine! Under one condition."

Michael was curious, "What?"

"If I do this tutor shit, we're doing it at my place. I can't tutor you in your messy ass room." Y/N said. She always remembered how messy Michael's room was when they were together. He would only clean when he was scolded by Y/N.

"That's fine by me."

"Okay then. 5pm, sharp."

She walked away, but Michael pulled her again.

"Let me go! What do you want now?" Y/N said, clearly annoyed.

"Unblock my number, silly." Michael chuckled,

"No."

"How are you supposed to know if I already arrived?"

"Theres a doorbell, dimwit. I'll be downstairs waiting for you."

"Bu—"

"Bye, Michael. I'll see you later." Y/N flashed him a small smile and continued to walk away.

Once he saw Y/N reach the bus stop, he started walking to his car, until someone tapped him on his shoulder.

"Hey Michael, whats the update? I saw you talking to her." It was Duncan. His brown hair was lightly gelled back and the first two buttons of his white dress shirt were undone.

"I'm still trying to win her back, I lied to her that I was failing so she could tutor me. That way, it'll be easier."

Duncan smirked, "That's my boy! When will this tutor thing start?"

"Later, 5pm."

"Hmm, that's good. Remember, if you fall in love again, bet's over."

"I won't."

—♡—

tags mwah: @kitwalker02 @sojournmichael @angelicmichael @deademobitch @iheartfrogs101 @tatestripedsweater @mrs-march-ahs

i hope you guys enjoyed this. i wrote this while doing schoolwork </3

[skepticbeliever-bookclub]

What are your personal favourite fics? :D

Great question! A perfect excuse for us to reach out to our members and ask them for their personal favourites and thanks to our collective recs, we're about to unravel a list of some real gems for you and hopefully therein you'll find a few favourites of your own.

want you in my room - beethechange | E, 13k, Complete

As they watch, Tall Guy takes his beanie off, revealing a mess of thick, shiny brown hair. He runs his hand through it to shake out the hat hair and Ryan feels like he’s stuck in an Herbal Essences commercial, except he’s the one making inappropriate lustful noises.

Ryan adjusts his snapback, determined. He is, after all, wearing his very finest basketball shorts, without even a single hole at the hem, and the knowledge puts an extra spring in his step. “I’m gonna climb that dude like a tree,” he tells Curly.

guidance for sailors, lost at sea - varnes | T, 6.2k, Complete

“I’m not the mom,” Shane says, drowsily appalled.

Ryan raises his eyebrows. “I didn’t say you were the mom,” he soothes, sincere in the way that Ryan kind of always is, even when he’s being sarcastic. “I just said they reacted to you as if you were the mom.”

“It’s -- that’s the same thing,” Shane protests, but quietly, because he has a tiny ghost perched on his hip and he doesn’t want to wake her. It. Whatever. It’s kind of hard to tell, because they don’t look like people, exactly, more like -- outlines.

Actually, ironically, what they really look like is people covered in sheets, round at the top and kind of vague at the bottom, but Shane has stopped trying to say that because Ryan gets mad about it. He thinks it’s disrespectful.

Shane thinks it’s disrespectful that he was made step-parent to a bridge full of baby ghosts without anybody asking him, but sure. Pointing out that they look like sheets is the problem.

You can run away with me anytime you want - PhyllisDietrichson | E, 12k, Complete

But sometimes Ryan scrolls through Shane’s instagram when his socials go quiet and their text convo takes a long pause and Ryan knows it’s because Shane is off camping somewhere, and Ryan can’t deny that he feels the tug of his absence.

we were wrecks before we crashed into each other - uneventfulhouses | E, 24k, Complete

Cleo’s smile is soft. “Shane told me his memory. What’s yours?”

“Less about memories,” Ryan says truthfully. “More about the future. Where we’ll be and such.”

Arching a brow, she drops her arms, so she clasps her hands in front of her hips. “Where do you think you’ll be?”

Ryan laughs. “Dunno.” He isn’t brave enough to say that he does know that Shane will be there, somewhere, wedged between the regular, the obtuse, the breathtaking, the wild. The generic and the extraordinary. The weird and the wonderful.

or; this week on Weird and/or Wonderful World, Shane and Ryan visit a record shop.

Hold Your Breath, It Gets Better - beethechange | E, 10k, Complete

Ryan stops short in the doorway of his bedroom, banging his shoulder against the doorframe in his haste, because he’s too late. Shane’s kneeling in front of the bottom drawer of his bedside table, peering down at the contents, hand frozen in a hover like he’d been about to reach in. His face is a blank mask.

“Ah. I keep the batteries in the top drawer. Not. Not the bottom one.”

“Yes,” Shane says, cocking his head to the left in puzzlement, and then he pauses for a fraction of a second too long as he considers his words. “I can see that the batteries are not in the bottom drawer.”

darling it’s a faded notion - varnes | E, 28k, complete

The sun is too bright and Ryan’s whole body is alight with something that is eating him all the way up from the inside out, but he keeps his eyes open and he makes himself look, and he tells himself that once he finds Shane, he’ll think about it. Once he finds Shane, they’ll make a plan. Once he finds Shane, and only then, he’ll let himself have the thought he’s been swallowing down like bile since he came to: that they didn’t fall.

They were pushed.

OR: Ryan and Shane get cursed by a ghost, and now they can’t be not-touching. It’s … not great.

open all your doors - apologeticallybourgeois | E, 8k, Complete

Shane was almost sure that Ryan didn’t actually cast a spell for it to happen, if only because the price he’d have to pay would probably be counted in, like, human limbs instead of a couple of small animals.

The Leading Man - breathtaken | E, 95k, Complete

All things considered, he could definitely do a lot worse than this: a performer-owned and -operated, queer-positive, crossover film studio, promising creative input right from day one – directing, cinematography, [...] it’s everything he wants.

He just has to get his dick out for it.

Euneirophrenia - orphan_account | T, 4.7k, Complete

Euneirophrenia: The peace of mind that comes from having pleasant dreams

Maelstrom - liminalweirdo | E, 40k, Complete

Here’s the thing about driving halfway across the country to see someone. You can’t really deny, after that, that you’re pretty much head over heels for them.

The Denial Twist - beethechange | E, 35k, Complete

“This is kind of surreal,” Shane says, taking a sip of his tea. It’s piping hot and delicious, except it tastes like hot chocolate and not like tea at all. “Sort of—Wonka-esque, right? Or Alice in Wonderland.”

“If you’re aiming a shot over the bow about my height you can fucking forget about it,” Ryan says, watching with interest as Shane’s cup refills by itself. “But yeah, it’s surreal. Literally, because dreams aren’t real.”

Shane’s unsettled by the comment. It sets alarm bells ringing in his head but he doesn’t know why. He just wasn’t expecting Dream Ryan to be so, well—so on the nose.

Or, the one where Shane and Ryan have some really weird dreams and perhaps, eventually, some sex.

Collide - needywitch | E, 35k, Complete

Ryan is desperately in love with his best friend.

what's the point of this again? - touchinghearts | T, 9.3k, Complete

When Ryan invites Shane back for a holiday week to meet his family during a big reunion, it doesn’t even occur to Shane that it could be a big deal.

Lost a fic? Check out our fic found tag, and if you still can’t find it, send us an ask!

[chasingpj]

𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐠

"You're more powerful than you think, Y/n. What's he gonna do? Splash you?"

pairing: percy jackson x child of hecate!reader

words: 4,321

warnings: none?? some violence but nothing gory

timeline: post sea of monsters

if you want to be tagged every time I update this story click here

a/n: i can't believe I actually posted this on time. i hope you guys like it!

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

Atticus leans against a tree, his hands in his pockets as he gives the wood nymphs a smirk that made you want to throw up. The three girls that stand in front of him giggle, nudging his shoulder playfully at something he said. You couldn't hear much from afar, but you doubt it was that funny, the girls just entertaining him because he's handsome or whatever. You scoff softly under your breath, turning away and sharing a look with Lou Ellen, who's scratching the backs of Ambrose's ears. The two of you rolling your eyes simultaneously before you turn on your heels.

While talking amongst themselves, your older brothers are huddled together, the three of them with furrowed eyebrows, serious stares seemingly deep in conversation. As Ernest takes a moment to look up from their circle, you meet his gaze. You don't fail to notice the nervous smile he gives you as he lightly jabs Alabaster in the ribs with his elbow. Furrowing your eyebrows, your steps become hesitant as Alabaster halts mid-sentence, his scowl fading into a friendly smile.

“What’s up?” You ask hesitantly. It was clear you had interrupted something. James and Ernest look at Alabaster, waiting for him to respond to your question. Alabaster shakes his head,

“Nothing. What happened? Got bored of watching your brother flirt with the wood nymphs?” He jokes with you, and you smile, willing to look past the strange tension between them.

“Not bored, more like I couldn’t stand it anymore,” you say, making your brothers chuckle.

“Dude’s got game,” Ernest nods proudly as he shrugs. You cringe,

“Gross.” Lou Ellen giggles as she joins you, her arms wrapping around yours. “Anyways, what are we doing to pass time today?”

Capture the flag was probably one of the activities you hated most at camp. Especially when you were playing on the same side as the Ares Cabin. None of you were strong sword fighters or archers, only relying on your powers in battle and this deemed you guys as not useful by Clarisse’s standards. This meant you and your siblings were always stationed at the same side of the forest where you rarely got any action.

Alabaster hums, his hands shoved in his pockets, “I was actually thinking that we should take over the game,” he suggests, and your eyes widen in surprise.

“What? Clarisse will lose her mind if we meddle with the game.” You really didn’t want to deal with her. Because of the run-ins you've had with her in the past, you preferred to stay out of her way because then, for the most part, she’ll stay out of yours. You were slow to anger, but when you got riled up about something, you raged. And in terms of Clarisse, she just knew how to get you there. Alabaster rolls his eyes,

"Yeah, well, we always lose because Clarisse takes the same approach every time. She has us tossed to the side as if we're useless. I'm serious; let’s prove ourselves. You can get the flag, Y/n. Take down Percy, and we'll cover you."

You shift, exchanging looks with your brothers. Not only were you surprised at Alabaster wanting to jump in the game, but he was also assigning you the task of taking down the other team's main defense. Alabaster was hands down your most powerful sibling at camp. Though you didn’t have a cabin, there was an unspoken agreement that he was the representative of the Hecate children. He’s been studying the longest and has taught you almost everything you know. You weren’t sure why he was putting you out there when he could do a better job at trapping Percy. Though Alabaster has praised you for being a quick learner and dedicated to your studies, you didn’t quite see the potential he obviously saw in you.

"I don't know… me against Percy? I don't think I'm the best one to put out there," you gradually begin mumbling your words as Alabaster’s face hardens at your self-doubt. He scoffs, looking off into the forest as he shakes his head,

"You’re more powerful than you think, Y/n. What is he gonna do? Splash you?" You gawk at him, not sure if he was discrediting Percy's powers or if he was truly ignorant to what he could do. You haven't seen Percy do much in person, but from the stories you've heard about what he's done on his quests, you couldn't act like he wasn't powerful. Your brother’s chuckle at what Alabaster said, and Ernest nods,

“You got this, Y/n. Remember, our powers are almost limitless; it all depends on up here,” he says as he taps your forehead with his index finger softly. “Your mind can be your sidekick or your downfall.”

You smile at the reminder and nod. Your siblings have always been your biggest motivators when it came to your magic. There are only 8 of you, so you guys are a tight-knit group, always encouraging each other to excel in your abilities.

Though you guys are all around the same age, you look up to your brothers the most. Alabaster, Ernest, and James are the most knowledgeable ones out of the bunch. They were usually the ones giving demonstrations of spells and potions, passing you notes from their book of shadows. James taught you and Atticus how to control your magic when you were angry, Alabaster taught you most of your defense magic, and Ernest just had a way of being able to lift everyone's spirits. They believed in you, you all believed in each other, and you couldn’t ask for a better family.

Still, with their words of praise and advice, you were still hesitant about going head to head with Percy. You didn’t want to disappoint them, though, not wanting to seem scared or weak.

“Okay, fine." Your siblings chatter excitedly, Alabaster smiling proudly as he pats your shoulder.

“Atticus!” Alabaster shouts, interrupting whatever your brother was saying to the wood nymphs.

“Yeaah?”

“Come over here.” Alabaster chuckles as Atticus's shoulders slump. He looks at the girls he was talking to, smiling at them before dismissing himself.

“What is it? I was on a roll,” he says, playfully annoyed.

“They’re sending me out as bait,” you say dramatically as you frown. Atticus furrows his eyebrows,

“Uh, what?” You laugh at his reaction, Alabaster side-eyeing you with a smile on his own face.

“What she means is she’s going to take down Percy, and we’re gonna handle the guys around the flag. James, Ernest, and I are gonna shadow travel as far as we can, which is maybe a little before their last line of defense, okay? You, Lou Ellen, Sage, and Alice are gonna deal with the Apollo kids,” he says, the 7 of you listening attentively. You shift on your feet; head cocked to the side as you raise your hand.

“Yes?”

“If you guys can shadow travel closer to the flag, why don’t you guys end the game?”

“Because it’ll piss Clarisse off even more if it's you,” James smirks, and your jaw drops,

“Oh, now, you’re really throwing me into the line of fire, huh?” Your face is straight as your siblings laugh, and you cross your arms over your chest. “I don’t know why you guys are laughing. I don’t find this very funny,” you retort, looking away to hide your smile. You couldn’t deny that you wanted to see Clarisse’s reaction when she realizes it was you who got the flag.

“When you have the flag, and it’s time to run back to the pond, you have to become ethereal,” Alabaster says, and you blink,

“What?! I just learned how to do that! And I did it at night,” you say, a little panicked. “I don’t know if I can hold it for long and-”

“You’ll do it,” Alabaster cuts you off, and you take a step back as Ambrose whines in displeasure. He definitely wasn’t giving you a choice, and it bothered you. You were grateful for his belief in you, but you really hated how nonchalant he was, considering you could get hurt. “Ready?” He asks the rest of the group, moving on from your concern and your jaw clenches. You feel unprepared, but it seems like it didn’t matter, so you didn’t bother saying anything else.

“Whatever,” you mumble, and you walk past your siblings, your familiar trotting close behind you. Before you disappear in the trees, you hear Atticus say something about not being sure if you should go out there alone before Alabaster shuts him down.

It didn’t take you long to arrive near the pond. Dodging the twigs and leaves on the forest ground, you get as close as you can, hiding behind a tree. You cautiously peek over the side to see if Percy was by the pond as he usually was and to your surprised, the pond is unguarded. You consider making a run for it but something about this felt too easy. Why wouldn't he be at the pond? A high-pitched whine comes from Ambrose’s lips, snapping you out of your thoughts and you quietly shush him, not wanting to get caught.

“Looking for me?” A familiar voice says, and you turn around fast finding Percy a few feet from you, his sword up and ready. The Percy you were met with in the past week or so always had this friendly glint to him. But right now, his eyes were clouded with determination. You feel your heart beating hard in your chest, but you maintain a pretty good poker face as you pull the dagger that’s strapped to your thigh in one motion.

You were by no means a strong sword fighter. Like everyone else, you attended a few classes initially, but it didn’t take you long to realize it wasn’t your domain. It didn’t come as natural for you as the other campers, and you hated when you weren’t good at something right away. After many defeats, you gave up, deciding you’ll excel in your magic so you can depend on it instead.

Your strategy was to go head to head with Percy with your abilities, not like this. Before you could adjust your plan, Percy makes the first move, lunging toward you. His movements were fast and strong, and you were struggling to keep up from the start. You grunt as you manage to defend his attacks, not confident enough to go for a hit because you weren’t sure of your timing. You had to think fast. There was no way you'd be able to win in this sword fight. So you did the last thing he'd expect, you ran away.

"Hey!" Percy calls after you, and you can hear the confusion in his voice. He looks around, not sure if this was some way to distract him or if you really gave up on the fight.

You turn around when you’re about 10 feet from him and you quickly shove your dagger into its casing. Electric green orbs form at the palms of your hands, and you swallow as concentrate on the tug in your gut. Your eyes meet Percy’s, the other now understanding what you were doing once he sees you form the orbs in your hands. He smiles, accepting the challenge as he caps his sword before shoving it in his pocket. His fingers spread out, his arm extended on his sides. He takes a deep breath as he channels his energy, and before you could send out your first attack, you see the water from the pond behind him rising in a thick controlled stream.

As he sends the stream right to you, you felt like everything went in slow motion. Your pulse is loud in your ears, and you focus on your energy, grunting loudly as you send out a thick green beam right at his water. You squint your eyes as you feel droplets splashing on your face from where your magic met his stream. There is a loud hissing in the air as the intense heat from your energy evaporates the water on impact. You’re out of breath by the time Percy retreats, his eyes darkening as he formulates another plan to attack.

Not letting him muster something stronger than what he did before, you begin throwing energy orbs at his feet rapidly, watching the heat burn the grass as Percy jumps back every time.

You had a new plan now, and as ridiculous as it sounded, a part of it was to get him in the pond. Most people would want to get him away from the water, but that would be too easy of a solution, and he’d be expecting that strategy. You had decided that you had to use his powers against him. Just as you planned, Percy eventually jumps into the water with a cocky smirk and you bite your lip. Don’t mess this up.

You close your eyes, feeling a tug in your core as you imagine yourself teleporting behind Percy. When you open them, you’re met with the back of his head, and before he can look around for you, you kick him behind the knees hard. He groans, falling forward into the water.

"Sorry!" You mumble as you jump out of the pond. The water begins to rise around him, and with the most confident voice you can muster, you shout,

“Incantare: Conglacio!" Your arms spread up in front of you, toward the pond. Almost immediately, the water that was risen suddenly becomes frozen solid around Percy. He grunts as he tries to move, quickly realizing that he was trapped in the ice from the knee down. You weren't sure of the extent of Percy's control over water, and you take into consideration that he may be able to change the temperature of it, but you don't wait to find out.

You speed past the pond, Ambrose racing after you, and he barks loudly. Not wanting to make the mistake of ignoring his warnings, you look up and you see campers from the Apollo cabin settled on the branches already pulling back their arrows.

“Where are they?” You mutter, hearing the whooshing noise of the bows being released. Anger and annoyance swirl in your chest at your sibling's late timing. You were already on edge about this whole plan. Now that you’ve taken down one of your big hurdles, you were determined to finish this game, not wanting to feel like a fool for trying if you failed.

Your orbs glow green with the returning of your aura, and you shout angrily as you abruptly stop running. In one quick motion, you extend your arms beside you with clenched fists, blasting a veil of your energy like a force field. The force sends their arrows in the opposite direction and manages to knock a few Apollo campers off the trees. You didn’t knock all of them, but it bought you enough time to run as they tried to regain their balance. Halfway through, you hear shouting and groaning as your siblings take down the rest and bind their arms behind their backs with magic.

You run past the Apollo cabin's defense, and soon, you arrive where the flag is. James and Ernest entertain the two disarmed Athena campers that were guiding the flag, fighting them with their hands while Alabaster tied up a couple of other campers in the trees nearby.

“Grab her!” One of the Athena campers yells, his partner lunging toward you without hesitation. You manage to dodge his attempt, the other grunting as he falls from the force that didn't meet your body.

The moment you were close enough to snatch the flag out of the ground and you hear your brothers cheering you on as you sprint back. Your mind races, not sure when you should attempt to become ethereal, and you begin to worry if you’ll even transform at all. Soon, you're greeted with your answer as you catch sight of Mark, one of Clarisse’s brothers, sprinting toward you, and you curse under your breath. Mark will take the flag from you and run back with it himself and you couldn't just let him claim you win. It was much earlier than you wanted, but there was no other choice.

You let out a rough breath, and you focus hard, recalling what you felt the night you transformed for the first time. A gradual tingle becomes more intense as it starts from your fingertips and from the tips of your toes. The sensation creeps up your arms and legs until it meets together in your stomach and as your core vibrates, you smile, knowing you’ve succeeded.

Your siblings shout at you excitedly from the sidelines, the moment you transform, laughing and taunting Mark while he makes useless attempts to grab you. You focus hard to maintain the vibrating in your core as you approach the river, afraid that you will lose your hold. As you get closer to the pond, you lock eyes with Annabeth as she, Percy, and a few others are waiting for your arrival.

If you weren't ethereal, she would have tackled you straight to the ground no problem, but as expected, she ran right through you. The other campers attempt to catch you after Percy sends out a thick slash of water that would have grabbed you by the waist and up in the air.

“What?! How are you doing that?!” Annabeth shouts, and you don’t say anything as finally get to the other side of the pond and you stab the flag in the ground. Your muscles and chest burn, and you double over, hands on your knees to catch your breath. The satyrs blow the horn and at the sound of it, echoing through the forest, signally your triumph, you manage a ragged laugh.

The distant cheers of your siblings become louder as they appear from the trees, running to you. The energy in your core disperses as you turn back to normal, but you don't have much time to recover. The moment your brothers approach you, you feel yourself being picked up and tossed in the air.

“Guys! Please,” you choke through your laughs, squealing when they throw you a little too high for your liking. You look over to your right, seeing Percy smiling, silently congratulating you as Annabeth was pink with anger.

As your brothers put you down, you notice Malcolm showing up a few seconds late with your team’s flag in his hand. Behind him, Clarisse stomps towards you with a few of her friends following beside her. You had to admit, it was kind of satisfying being the one to get the flag, but if looks could kill, you’d be dead.

“Uh oh,” you mumble as she approaches you, your siblings huddling close beside you protectively, and even Ambrose stands in front of you, growling deeply.

“You messed up the game!” She accuses, and your head jerks back,

“Are you joking? I won the game. Mark was barely halfway by the time I was running here.”

“It doesn’t matter! He would have made it.”

“He really wouldn’t have,” James points out, and Clarisse snaps her attention to him.

“Either way, you guys were supposed to stay on the north side of the forest! You freaks have no place in games like this, anyways.”

“Bold of you to say considering we won the game for you,” you say through a clenched jaw, your eyes glowing as you feel your anger stirring in your chest. You hated when you and your siblings were outed in the camp. Being called freaks or avoided because people deemed you guys as too dangerous without giving you chance, angered you the most. It just wasn't fair.

You laugh, not from amusement, but from disbelief. At this point, you didn’t care, you were at a high after your win, and if Clarisse wanted to fight about it, you were up for it. “Is your pride that wounded, Clarisse? Maybe you aren’t as good as you think you are,” you walk up to her, ignoring Atticus's hesitant calling of your name.

The way Clarisse’s eyes darken failed to intimidate you in your furious state. You guys were practically nose to nose, and in the reflection of her eyes, you can see your aura illuminate wildly around. As Clarisse draws her sword, you smirk, ready to blast her into the trees the moment she decided to move.

“Girls,” Chiron’s voice booms through the silence as he walks through the trees, and the both of you look over. He doesn’t say anything else, the tone of his voice being enough of a warning.

Atticus gently pulls on your arm, and you unwillingly back down. Clarisse scoffs, and she pushes past you hard causing you to stumble back. Atticus catches you from behind, letting you regain your balance and you rub your shoulder, looking back to watch her storming through the forest.

“You did well, Y/n,” Chiron praises, and you smile at him before he goes off to announce the winning of your team. Everyone except for the Ares Campers and the opposite team cheers loudly, excited to have fewer chores after a streak of losing. Soon the team crowds around you, and your siblings start telling a dramatic interpretation of what you did forcing you to chime in here and there as some of the things they described were a little off from the truth. You smile, listening to their chattering, and eventually, you fall behind the crowd as they begin talking about something else. Suddenly, a hand rests on your shoulder, and you look beside you, Alabaster with a proud look on his face.

“I told you you’d do it,” he says teasingly.

“Yeah, yeah.” You wave your hand, lightly nudging his hand off your shoulder. The last thing you wanted was for him to start his ‘I told you so’ speech. “I get it, you believe in me, and whatever,” you joke, and Alabaster laughs,

“I’m serious, Y/n. You’re-”

“More powerful than you think. I know.” You finish his sentence as you shift on your feet. “I guess you’re right,” you admit, mumbling under your breath.

“What was that?” He asks as he leans closer as if he didn’t hear you. You nudge his shoulder and scoff,

“If you missed what I said, then too bad!” You declare as you walk ahead of him. You hear his laughter, and he decides to let it go as he returns to walk with your brothers, Ambrose happily trotting behind him.

“Y/n!” At the call of your name, you turn around, Percy jogging over to you. You giggle, amused at how sweet he looked after being able to intimidate you during the game. “I can’t believe you apologized after kicking me."

“I felt bad,” you admit sheepishly, making him laugh. “How did you get out of the ice?” You ask, playing with the hem of your shorts. He hums,

“It took me a while to figure it out, but apparently I can change the temperature of the water,” he explains, and you nod.

“Yeah, I figured you might be able to. I won’t be using that again,” you say playfully, and Percy smiles.

“What you did was really cool,” he compliments, and you feel your cheeks warm up. Out of all the praise that you’ve heard just now, Percy’s made you feel different. “I have to look out for you now,” he nudges you.

“Yeah, you better watch out, Jackson. I have a lot of tricks up my sleeve,” you warn him, and you take in how he gleams at your banter, making you smile even more.

“I’m looking forward to it. I’m just happy that you can’t trap me in my own element; that would have been embarrassing.”

“I’m kind of bummed about that. It would have been funny if I did, though," you tease and Percy scoffs playfully.

“Y/n!” Alabaster calls on you and the other waves for you to come to him. “You have to rest,” he says shortly. You couldn’t read the expression on his face, but he didn’t look too pleased. You frown and nod, disappointed that your conversation was cut short with Percy.

“I’ll see you later,” you smile softly, and Percy nods.

“Yeah, same,” he says, returning the smile before you turn around to join your siblings back to the cabin.

masterlist taglist:@xxyrr

[jxsatlas]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍 ⇢ keith kogane, ch. 2

keith kogane x gn! reader – previous, next

DISCLAIMER! this story does not originally belong to me, the author is @MaddieWolf37 on Wattpad. i have simply received permission to rewrite and continue her story. go and check out her profile for the original version!

SYNOPSIS! a story in which you are thrown into the middle of an intergalactic space war and have the undesirable weight of being a symbol of peace dropped on your shoulders. but maybe if you look past the constant danger and endless fighting, there's some good to being a paladin of voltron.

MATURE CONTENT! swearing, violence, gore, war, graphic descriptions, mentions of self-harm

The roof..? you think to yourself as you watch Pidge disappear through the stairwell. The three of you give it a moment before following him up. Your footsteps will echo loudly in the enclosed stairwell, and you have a hunch that it won't be good if Pidge hears you at this point.

So you try to climb the stairs as quietly as possible, but you still make some noise. It's hard not to when there's three of you.

You reach the top and Lance opens the door leading to the roof slowly. Pidge sits close to the edge of the roof, surrounded by various types of tech. His figure is silhouetted by the glow of the screens.

Lance shoves his hands in his pockets and sneaks up to Pidge, who doesn't hear your brother's approach because of the bulky green headphones he wears.

You and Hunk walk out onto the roof. You shiver slightly from the breeze, wishing you had put on some longer pants.

Lance grabs Pidge's headphones and pulls them off of his ears. "You come here to rock out?" Lance asks, causing Pidge to jump five feet into the air. He relaxes when he realises it's just you three.

"Oh, hey guys," he says.

"Hello," you say and give him a friendly wave.

Lance looks over the tech. "Hey, where'd you get this stuff? It doesn't look like Garrison tech," he asks, furrowing his brows.

Pidge smirks. "I built it," he says with pride.

Hunk's interest is piqued. He steps closer and starts looking over all the things Pidge has laying around him. Although Pidge has to smack Hunk's hands away a couple of times to keep him from touching his stuff.

"With this, I can scan all the way to the edge of the solar system," Pidge explains.

"All the way to Kerberos?" you ask with a smile as you join Hunk, your eyes sparkling with curiosity and awe.

Pidge hangs his head a little and grumbles at the mention of Pluto's moon.

Lance irks. "You go ballistic every time that's brought up! What's your deal?" he asks in an annoyed tone, but Pidge is hesitant to answer. "Look, we can't have any secrets between us if we wanna bond as a team," Lance says as he puts his hand on his hip.

Pidge looks down at his hands in his lap for a moment, letting Lance's words settle in. He sighs and looks up at the three of you. "Fine. I'll tell you."

He looks back at the objects laying around him and picks up a small notepad. You can't see what's scribbled all over the page as he holds it close to his chest.

"The world as you know it is about to change," Pidge says ominously, looking back at us. "The Kerberos Mission wasn't lost due to some crew malfunction. So, I've been scanning the solar system and picked up alien radio chatter."

"Aliens?" your eyes widen.

"Wait, aliens? Like the little green dudes? Or something bigger and meaner? Like Predator?" Hunk questions with fear, but Pidge only shrugs. This makes him uneasier.

Lance, however, isn't bothered at all by the mention of extraterrestrial life. "Okay, so you're insane," he insults.

"I'm serious," Pidge says sharply, glaring at your brother. "They've been repeating one word, Voltron," he says as he holds up the notepad.

Scribbled on the page with various coloured pencils looks to be something straight out of a Transformers movie. The word Voltron is messily written in big letters above it.

"What is it?" you question, taking the notepad from Pidge's hands. You stare at it. "It looks like a warrior or something."

"It's a superweapon," Pidge answers, "And the aliens are crazier about it more than I have ever heard," Pidge says, turning back to his tech.

"How crazy?" you ask.

The school alarms start to blare the moment the words leave my mouth. A voice crackles over the loudspeakers placed throughout the campus.

"Attention students!" the voice says. You all pause and listen, wondering silently if this has something to do with what Pidge was talking about. "This is not a drill."

You swallow. For some reason, the coincidental emergency announcement makes you uneasy. You grab onto your brother's sleeve in hope of a bit of comfort.

"We are on lockdown," the voice informs. "Security situation Zulu Niner. All students are to remain in barracks until further notice."

The voice repeats the announcement a couple of times, making you feel worse. Whatever it is must be serious.

Hunk stammers, pointing to something in the sky. "Is- Is that a meteor?" he asks wearily. "A really, really big meteor?"

You look up to see a giant bright ball falling towards the earth. Your heart climbs up to your throat and a worried expression takes over your face. Are those the aliens Pidge has been talking about?

Pidge grabs a pair of binoculars he had sitting next to him, using them to look up at the object burning up in the atmosphere.

"It's a ship!" Pidge exclaims.

Lance reaches over and snatches the binoculars from Pidge, taking a look for himself. "Holy crow! That is not one of ours!" he says.

"No, it's one of theirs," Pidge says with awe.

You watch it shoot across the sky, crashing down to the earth in the far distance with a loud boom, a trail of smoke behind it. For a moment, you just stare, trying to process what just happened.

Is this real? Or is it just some dream?

Lance jumps up excitedly. "We have to check out that ship!" he shouts, grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the stairwell. Pidge quickly packs his tech into his backpack and him and Hunk race after the two of us.

"Is that your idea of team bonding?" you ask.

"Yeah!" Lance chirps happily, racing down the stairs with you, Hunk, and Pidge trying to keep up with him.

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

The four of you are now perched upon a ledge not too far off from the crash site. The Garrison had beat you to it and were guarding the area heavily. They have the ship loaded up on a large, flatbed truck and a big, science tent set up off to the side. Scientists and high-ranking Garrison officers walk in and out of the said tent and you wonder what they have in there.

Did they find something? An alien? A strange artifact?

Pidge types away furiously on his laptop while Lance surveys the area with a pair of binoculars. You and Hunk sit back, tired and not really wanting to be there. Your head rests on his shoulder and you start to nod. The boredom you feel from the lack of interesting events is getting to you.

How long have you been there exactly?

"Hey," Pidge says, looking back at you and Hunk. You jolt out of your half-asleep state and sit up. "They set up a camera inside and I managed to hack into it and pull up the feed."

You stand up and stretch, yawning as well, and walk over to Pidge. You plop down beside him as he adjusts his position so you can all see his computer screen.

Your eyes widen when you register what you're seeing on the feed. A human man is strapped down to a metal table, his eyes darting around frantically as he struggles against the metal restraints.

He looks extremely familiar and his name is on the tip of your tongue, but you can't quite make out what it is.

A couple more scientists walk into the tent, joining the one that's already in there. They start to prepare a few things, and now that he has an audience, the man starts to shout a few things.

"Shiro, calm down," one of the scientists says, walking over to the man and placing his hand on his shoulder. "We just have to keep you quarantined until we run some tests on you."

"Shiro?" You say under your breath, the identity of the man now clicking in your brain. He was the pilot on the Kerberos mission. Him and his crew were pronounced dead about a year ago. But obviously, that isn't the case, and Pidge knew that for some unknown reason. Shiro is alive. Are his crewmates alive as well?

"Do you know how long you were gone?" a scientist asks.

"I don't know! Months? Maybe years?" Shiro answers frantically. "But we don't have time! Aliens are coming, they're probably on their way right now! They'll destroy us! We have to find Voltron!"

The four of you share a look of shock at the mention of the superweapon, wondering how Shiro knows about it.

"Sir, take a look at this," a scientist says and gestures to Shiro's right arm. "It appears his arm was replaced with a cyborg prosthetic."

The other scientist nods. "Alright. Put him under until we know what that thing can do."

Shiro jerks his body, pulling against the metal restraints at those words. "No! No! Don't put me under! There's no time!"

You watch with wide eyes as the scientists inject an anaesthetic into Shiro, not heeding a single word that comes out of his mouth. You definitely would, seeing how blatantly obvious it is that Shiro was captured by aliens.

"They didn't ask about the rest of his crew," Pidge says, a frown tugging down at his lips.

Lance furrows his brows. "They aren't even listening to him! That guy's a legend," he says.

"We have to get him out," Pidge says.

"Wait, weren't we just watching the feed because we couldn't get in?" You say, raising a brow at the others. "Plus, the place is heavily guarded. It's a miracle we haven't been spotted yet."

"True, but now we're properly motivated," Lance says and holds his chin in his hand. "We can come up with a plan."

Silence only gets a second to settle before Pidge perks up. "Oh! Maybe we can get some hazmat suits and dress up like scientists and sneak in!"

"That could work," You say with a shrug, "But I don't think they have spare suits just lying around in the open desert."

Pidge shrugs. "It's an option."

"Maybe we could tunnel in?" Lance suggests.

"That'll take time we don't have," you say with a roll of your eyes.

"I have an idea!" Hunk announces and you look at him. "Why don't we head back, dress up like chefs, sneak into the commissary, and have a late-night snack?"

"Food does sound appealing," You say and place your hand on your stomach. It's been a few hours since you have eaten dinner and you can feel a minor hunger.

Lance shakes his head. "No, what we need is a distraction–"

You scream when large explosions go off in the not-so-far distance. The loud, booming noise hurts your ears and you slap your hands over them, hoping to muffle it out. You squeeze your eyes shut out of fear.

When it's quiet, you peek through one eye to make sure everything's okay before opening both. Your hands fall to your lap as Hunk starts to panic.

"Were those the aliens? Are they coming for us?" he asks wearily.

"No. That was a distraction," Pidge says and points to something kicking up dust. "For him!"

Pulling up on a red, hoverbike beside a boulder near the tent is another person. Almost immediately you recognise the dark mullet and red jacket, and your brother seems to as well.

"Oh no," Lance growls and jumps up to his feet. "He is not beating me in there!" he says as he slides down the steep side of the small cliff.

Your brother runs towards the tent.

"Who's he?" Pidge asks, shoving his stuff into his bag once again to chase after Lance.

"Keith!" Lance shouts.

"Are you sure?" Hunk asks, following after him.

"Oh, I'd recognise that mullet anywhere!"

You roll your eyes and chase after Lance.

You know Keith as well. He was one of your classmates until he dropped out halfway through the school year.

He was top of the fighter pilot class with you just under him. You always got a score a few points less than his, and secretly strove to surpass him.

You were actually on pretty good terms with him though, seeing as your instructors liked to pair you up for team activities. The two of you were more promising than the rest when working together, so it made sense.

As you run towards the tent, you wonder what he's been up to. And if he even remembers you.

[sariahsue]

Rivals Are Always One “Make Me” Away From Kissing

Tossing the controller onto the desk, Adrien reached for Marinette’s waist and slid her into his lap. She came willingly, looping her arms around his neck and weaving her fingers into his hair. (An Adrinette no powers video game AU - 10,000 words)

Adrien had to admit that he was a little bit of a nerd. Here he was, fifteen minutes early for school, in an outfit his personal assistant picked out for him, and looking over his homework alone in the hallway instead of talking with classmates or hanging out in the sunny courtyard like everyone else was doing.

A gust of cool air rushed in through an open doorway and ruffled his hair, making him sigh. It was no wonder he was still single.

The whisper of his name on the wind caught his attention.

"Nino?" Adrien called. The hallway was deserted, so he stuffed his homework into his backpack and stepped closer to the open doorway to investigate. The back of Nino's red cap came into view. He was sitting on the front steps, brushing shoulders with Alya.

"You have too much faith in my bro," Nino said.

Adrien stopped walking forward as his heart sank to the floor. Nino didn't believe in him about something?

"I'm giving Marinette one week, tops," Alya said.

"It's going to take him at least a month," Nino countered.

"You willing to bet on that?" she asked, standing.

"Yeah, I am."

Alya stuck out her hand, then pulled him up as they shook on it.

It was only when they started to turn to come into the building that Adrien realized he shouldn't have been eavesdropping while standing in the dead center of an empty hallway. There was nothing to hide him from the surprised eyes of his friends.

Alya was the first to recover, her expression quickly slipping to suspicion. "How much of that did you hear?" she asked, hands on her hips.

"Nothing!" he said, hands up. "I didn't-"

"Did you hear the news?" Nino cut in.

"N-no? What are you talking about?"

"The Olympic Committee voted."

"About?" Adrien asked. He tried to forget… whatever they'd been talking about.

"eGames are in for Paris 2024!"

"Seriously?" Adrien asked. "I thought they voted against that last month."

Nino ignored the comment and held out a hand for a high-five, but it was more like a middle five, limp and unenthusiastic. Nino glanced toward Alya, and they shared a smile.

"I bet I could get us tickets easy," Adrien said, pulling Nino's attention away from his girlfriend. "Want to come-"

Nino snapped back to attention, eyes gleaming. "You should sign up for the team."

"I should what?" Adrien asked, bewildered by his friend's sudden change in tone. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I'm not that good."

"No really, dude." Nino grabbed his arm. "I think you could do it." He threw an arm around Adrien's shoulder, turned him around and marched him deeper into the school.

"No thanks?" Adrien let himself be steered into a crowded hallway, Alya stalking behind them, her eyes burning into his back. "I'd need more practice than I have time for. Some of those gamers-"

"All you need-" Nino guided them around a group of upperclassmen. "-is a partner to practice with."

What was going on? Adrien knew he was kind of sheltered and maybe a little socially awkward, but he knew Nino well enough at this point that he could tell he was trying to set something up. "I get it. You want an excuse to play on my system every day. But you know my father-"

"Oh, no way, man. I'm not good enough." They stepped through a pair of double doors and out into the morning sunshine of the courtyard. Students laughed and yelled at each other. Others lounged on the stairs going up to the second floor. Nino's hand on his shoulder tightened and they stopped moving. "But maybe there's someone-"

"Yeah," Alya cut in. She shoved her way in between them and pointed to the middle of the courtyard, toward a tight cluster of students. "I bet Marinette would want to practice with you."

Adrien followed the line of Alya's finger. Marinette's dark hair and bright smile peeked out from the center of the group. As usual, she was surrounded by admirers, all of whom were laughing at something she had just said. His stomach clenched, though he wasn't sure why.

"You're kidding, right? She's one of the most popular girls in school."

"Did you miss the memo, sunshine?" Alya said. "You're pretty popular yourself."

"And the four of us hang out together all the time," Nino said. "I'm sure she would love to spend some time with just you."

"I don't even think I want to be in the Olympics," Adrien said, turning away from Marinette and glancing at his other friends. There was definitely something going on. Nino and Alya traded sideways glances and wiggling eyebrows, communicating something Adrien couldn't figure out.

"You really should ask Marinette to practice with you, dude," Nino said.

"No, I don't think-"

"Come on, Agreste." Alya stepped up into his space. Not that he could ever tell Nino this, but his girlfriend could be scary when she wanted to be. She was somehow towering over him, even though he could have sworn a few seconds ago that he was taller than she was. "You want a gold medal, don't you?"

"No?"

"Yes, you do. Now go ask Marinette."

"This isn't even about the Olympics, is it?"

Alya nudged him through the open door and into the light. Adrien blinked, disoriented by the sudden movement and the direction his morning had taken.

"Get moving," Alya insisted.

"Okay, okay! I'll ask her!" he said. His plan to skirt around Marinette's knot of students and escape to the other edge of the courtyard was shot down when his friends' footsteps crunched behind him. They weren't going to let him get away.

Feeling their eyes on him, Adrien weaved his way through the students that filled the yard, hoping the bell would ring and give him an excuse to abandon his quest. What was really happening here?

Guys and girls alike were leaning over Marinette's shoulder, and as he got closer he could tell the laughter was due to something on the sketch pad she was holding. Her smile and the light hitting her hair just right made her glow. Her eyes sparkled.

And Adrien stopped moving.

There was no way he could approach her with this many people around. What was he going to say, anyway? Hey, I think our friends are terrible and plotting something against me, and I'm going to regret asking later, but will you please play video games with me? It sounded stupid even in his head.

A single, sharp fingernail between his shoulder blades reminded him that he had no choice in the matter, so he stepped forward, excusing himself through the crowd of Marinette's admirers, until he was close enough to grab her elbow and borrow her attention.

"A-a-adrien?" she asked, stuttering when her bright eyes found his. "How you- uh, what?"

"Can we play video games later?" Ugh. This was even worse out loud than it had been in his head. "Um, the Olympics are coming up later. And we should practice." Yes, that was an eloquent explanation. Very smooth.

Marinette's eyes went wide in a doe-eyed stare, like she couldn't believe he'd ask her such a thing. "Oh." Her voice shook. "Th-tho nank you. No thank you! I don't-" She glanced behind him, over his shoulder. "I mean, yes! I would love to!" She stared at his feet and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear nervously.

Adrien glanced quickly behind him. Nino and Alya were standing a little way away, looking far too innocent. Alya examined her fingernails. Nino was gazing all around the courtyard, not fixing on any one point, his face blank. So they were bullying Marinette into it, too? Whatever they were planning, he wasn't going to let them make her uncomfortable.

"You don't have to," he told her quickly, and her head snapped back up to his. "I mean, it's probably a stupid idea. If you don't want to, I understand. It's kind of a weird idea. And I think the Olympics are dumb and, I mean, you probably like them, so-"

"No," she said quickly, mercifully cutting him off. She reached out to grab his arm, but pulled back just before her fingers brushed his skin. It was close enough to raise goosebumps.

"I do want to practice with you," Marinette said.

He raised a questioning eyebrow at her.

"Really," she said, putting enough force into it that she sounded almost convincing.

"Okay," he said, skeptical. She must have so many friends and demands on her attention. She was really going to make time for one-on-one time for him? "I have a free two hours before my piano lessons tomorrow. I'll ask if you can come over."

"I'm free then!"

After her initial hesitation, he was surprised to hear her so excited. What was really going on? "Then, that's good, I guess. Sounds... good. Great."

"Great," she echoed.

The bell rang. Relieved, Adrien walked off through the shuffling crowd, pushing through sharp elbows and heavy backpacks and toward Nino and Alya, who were muttering to each other, their heads close together, and not paying him any attention.

Alya was whispering as he approached. He only caught a soft, "They're going to be-" before she noticed him and walked off.

"Bro, please make me lose." Nino adjusted the headphones around his neck.

"You want to lose? What, a bet?"

"Can't say," Nino said. "It's important, though. You've got a month."

If Adrien was confused before, he was stumped now. The only thing he was sure of was that this had nothing to do with the Committee vote or video games. Was Marinette in on it or was she his fellow victim?

Now that he didn't need the bell to save him from anything, it happily rang the beginning of class. Dozens of shoes shuffled down the hallways. Friends called out to each other. Adrien trailed far behind Marinette on his way to their class. Her pigtails bounced to her enthusiastic step.

What was really happening?

***

A week later, Adrien didn't really care what the motivation behind the practice sessions had been. He was having too much fun. In a stunning display of paternal affection, Gabriel had allowed Adrien to set up regular video gaming sessions with Marinette. Or Nathalie had put it into his schedule and not mentioned it to his father. Probably the second one, though he liked to pretend.

Today, they were up in his room, being washed in the music of Mario Kart that they were playing on his gigantic television. Adrien sat up straight on the couch, toes digging into the plush carpet, and pouring his focus onto the screen, but Marinette was draped across the furniture, one foot dragging on the floor, the other accidentally poking his knee whenever one of them leaned into a turn.

In the past few days, a remarkable change had come over Marinette. Instead of being anxious and fidgety whenever they ran into each other at school, the hours of being together had forced her to grow relaxed around him. It was amazing to see the side of her that everyone else so admired shining out of her when she was with him, instead of it being trapped under her awkward stutter like it used to be. He loved this.

As he rounded the final turn, Marinette on his tail, he squeezed the controller even harder, though his character was already going at top speed. A squirt of black ink blocked out his half of the screen.

"No!" he yelled, trying to negotiate the curve while blind. "I forgot you had that one! I thought you were out!"

Marinette didn't leave her position on the couch until she'd crossed the finish line. When she did, she jumped up and crowed her victory. "I beat you again! Admit it! You're going to cry yourself to sleep tonight because I creamed you so bad!"

Adrien wiped away a fake tear with her controller and was rewarded with one of Marinette's soft giggles. The sound was infectious, and soon his laughter joined hers. This was the way a lot of their games ended. Win or lose, they were both happy, just because they enjoyed each other's company.

Adrien's suspicions had melted away over the past few days. Nino and Alya were dating, and they wanted their best friends to spend time together. That must have been it. He had to admit, he loved the idea.

And he loved that she was comfortable enough with him to be the person he saw her be with other people, bold and funny and expressive, somehow kind and fierce at the same time, ready to compliment him or trash talk him at a moment's notice. It kept him on his toes.

While the question of why it had taken her so long to warm up to him nagged at him, it wasn't enough to keep him from acknowledging that he was much happier when she was around.

"So what do you want to play next?" Marinette slid off the couch and pulled out his collection of games.

"Shovel of Hope," he said quickly.

"I usually pick that one," she said, turning to direct a questioning eyebrow his way.

"It is. And I want you to be happy, so we can play your favorites twice in a row."

A slack look of shock was replaced quickly by Marinette's shy smile, and Adrien's heart flipped.

He'd always known she had a nice smile. So why did it seem like a new revelation just now?

***

If Adrien's observation about their first week together was how much he liked Marinette, then observation about the second week was how much his game had improved.

Marinette's skill on most games was just a little higher than his own, so playing against her was always a challenge, and teaming up with her was always instructive. Of course, her teasing continually spurred him on.

Today they were in her room playing Zombie Fighter 2, which he'd never even heard of before. And it showed. After seven rounds, he had failed to land a single hit on Marinette's character. He went down in a shower of sparks.

"KO'd again! I can't believe it!" Adrien tossed his controller into his lap. He noticed every time his left knee brushed her right as they sat cross-legged on her chaise.

"Your skills are improving, young grasshopper," Marinette said.

"How is losing improving?"

"You lasted a whole ten seconds longer than last time. You're learning how to run away."

Adrien socked her in the face with a pink pillow. He'd been in her room a handful of times now and he still couldn't get over how pink everything was. Walls, curtains, blankets, even furniture. It suited her, though.

Marinette stood up and stretched. A small strip of skin peeked out where her shirt rode up. "We should head downstairs. Your driver will be here soon."

"No." Adrien averted his gaze quickly. "Let's play one more!" The warmth of Marinette's room wasn't something he looked forward to leaving, not when his own sterile, empty room was the only thing waiting to welcome him home.

"I was hoping you'd say that," she said. "Can't get enough of me, or can't get enough of being pounded into the ground, I wonder?"

"Jury's out."

"Ouch! Why do I keep you around, again?" she asked.

"Must be because I'm so cute." Adrien selected his character, and the screen lit up with another round.

"Must be." Marinette ruffled his hair.

Adrien sat up a little straighter. Was it the praise? Or was it her touch? When she took her hand away, it was to fix his grip on the controller.

"You're never going to win like that. Your fingers aren't spread out enough. Like this." She adjusted each finger individually, pushing and poking and smoothing each one into place until they curved just so.

Her hands radiated warmth. But not just that. It felt like... kindness? Caring? How was he getting that from just the feel of her fingertips against his wrists, directing him to relax the sudden tension in his arms?

By the time she pulled away and they started playing, Adrien's hands were shaking. He pulled them deeper into his lap, so she wouldn't see the tremors.

What was happening? And why did he feel like Marinette touching him again was going to make him feel better? Whatever it was, it wasn't helping him win.

"That'll teach me to compliment you," Marinette said after cutting down his avatar with ease. "That was awful. What happened?"

"Just tired, I guess," Adrien said, putting his controller between them and flapping his hands, like they were sweaty or cramping or something else normal.

"Tired, huh? I can play better than that in my sleep! So what's the real reason?"

"Tired. That's really the reason."

"Tired of getting beat, maybe."

"Oh, lay off."

"Make me."

He needed something to do with the nervous energy in his hands, and Marinette was asking for it. When he poked her side, she made the most adorable squeal he'd ever heard, and he had to do it again. The tickle fight that ensued was nothing short of inevitable. She tried to reach for the pillow on the floor to defend herself with, but he took the opportunity to poke her side and she tumbled off the chaise and pulled him with her. It wasn't enough to stop him.

"I surrender!" Marinette gasped after only a few seconds. "You win!"

"You admit I'm better at something than you?"

"No, your arms are just longer, like a monkey's." She laughed even before she felt his retaliation tickle for the jibe.

As their laughter subsided, Adrien felt lighter. He hadn't had fun with a friend like this in he couldn't remember how long. His father always made him feel foolish for finding something mildly amusing. Somehow, Marinette made falling off his seat liberating instead of embarrassing. He loved that about her.

Sprawled out as they were, it took Adrien a few seconds before he noticed where his hand was resting. Right on Marinette's soft stomach. She was smiling up the ceiling, not seeming to notice or care that he was touching her. It felt nice.

But it was probably weird. He was being weird.

So why was he not moving?

His hand moved up and down with her breathing, rhythmic and calming. Would she stop him if he slid his fingers along the fabric and felt the texture of her shirt?

He kept his hands still until she sighed deeply, and then he guiltily removed it.

***

It had been the best month of Adrien's life, and he owed it all to the girl who was walking toward him. The school courtyard was packed with students going home for the day. Backpacks hung off shoulders. People shouted to each other. Heads bobbed up and down as they tried to find their friends in the crowd.

Marinette's small build made it difficult for her to push her way through the crowd, but shoved backpacks and used her elbows and finally reached him. He was touched by the effort that she made to be near him.

"Nino and Alya coming?" he asked.

"Over there," she said, nodding toward the couple. "You ready to head out? My dad promised croissants for all of us today, and I'm very done with school right now."

It wasn't easy to pick out their friends in the mass of students, but he finally found them by the stairs, heads together like they were whispering despite the noise.

"What are they talking about?"

Marinette sighed. "The, uh, that bet." She looked sideways at him, like she was hoping he'd say something about it.

"Oh," Adrien said, racking his brain for scraps of memory. "Nino won, right? He said it was going to take over a month." For someone who won a bet, he didn't look very happy about it. The two looked over at him at the same time and frowned. Well, Nino frowned. Alya glowered.

"Technically, Alya's got until the end of the day but... yeah." Her voice became very quiet. Small and sad. "Nino's going to win."

"I never learned what that was about," he said, hoping she would provide an answer to the mystery.

Marinette just shook her head and started fidgeting with her purse strap to avoid looking at him. "L-let's wait for them," she stammered.

That wasn't a good sign. He didn't want to push her into her old habit of not being able to hold a conversation with him, so he didn't ask again. "Sure, we can wait," he said, taking a step to the side to give her some space. "It looks like they're on their way over already."

Nino and Alya approached with fake smiles plastered on their faces, like nothing had happened. Neither greeted Adrien or Marinette when they reached them, just kept walking toward the doors. The crowd thickened the closer to the door they got. Students pushed to get out of the building, and Adrien quickly lost sight of Nino and Alya somewhere ahead of him. He and Marinette squeezed through the doors and finally made it out onto the stairs.

"Oh no!" Marinette pulled at her hair as they started down the stairs.

"What?" Adrien asked, shuffling behind a red backpack that was going much slower than it needed to.

"Nothing, nothing. I just broke an elastic again." Keeping one fist in her hair to hold the pigtail in place, she fished in her purse for another one. Their pace became a crawl as she searched.

"Just wear it down," Adrien suggested.

"I'll look stupid," she said, giving up the search in favor of digging in her pockets.

"Come on, you'll look fine," he said, trying to convince her so they could catch back up to the others. He could see them waiting by the crosswalk, backs to them. "I've never seen your hair down before."

Marinette half turned to him, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. "All right," she finally said, letting it fall and taking out the other side to match. She brushed it out with her fingers as they finished walking down the stairs.

She looked nice like that. Really nice. A piece of him thought he should probably tell her that, so she wouldn't feel self-conscious. The rest of him was just glad Alya and Nino weren't looking at them, so they couldn't see him gaping at Marinette like a vulture.

That was when his hands started trembling. The nervous energy was back, urging him to reach out and touch her. Maybe tuck that stray strand of hair behind her ear and let his fingers linger by her cheek, his fingertips graze her jaw. But he didn't want her to pull away again, so he clenched his fists and tried to remind himself that there was no reason for him to be acting this weird around her.

"I feel like everyone is staring at me," she said after only a few seconds.

Well, I don't know about everyone. At least one person is. He cleared his throat and forced himself to look away. Students started breaking away from the main group, escaping down the sidewalk toward their homes. Nino and Alya had finally noticed their approach.

"My hair must look stupid. I knew it!" She threw her hands on top of her head, a combination of covering herself and patting it down to lie smooth.

"They're only staring because you're so beautiful."

Adrien and Marinette stopped and stared at each other. Alya and Nino stared at the pair of them. A light turned green and cars streamed past, the wind they created making Marinette's hair dance.

Marinette looked as surprised at his words as he felt. But it was true. He'd never thought about it before, but she was probably the prettiest person he'd ever met. Inside and out.

When the initial shock wore off after three seconds, Marinette hunched her shoulders. "Oh, w-w-well, y-you th-thank."

Panic settled over him as she stuttered. He'd messed up somehow. She was nervous. He'd made her uncomfortable. He was weird and made her feel weird, and he'd messed everything up. She was upset.

He opened his mouth to apologize – he had no idea how to apologize for giving an honest compliment but he knew he had to try – but the look on her face froze his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Shock and disbelief, warring with curiosity. But they were all replaced with the familiar crinkle in her eyes that meant a challenge was sure to follow.

"So your true feelings come out at last," she said in delight. "Sorry, but I can't get involved with my sparring partner, so don't ask."

"What-"

"No, no. Your begging won't work on me!" She pushed him away with one hand flat against his chest.

Could she feel his heart beating through his shirt? She must have been able to. The whirlwind shift in her attitude was making him nervous.

He looked at Nino and Alya for help at this sudden change. They were both open-mouthed.

That was when it clicked. She was just teasing him again. Or more likely daring him. He knew her well enough to know that tone when he heard it, the same when she offered a bonus challenge round. That compliment had been sincere, but he knew how to play along.

"Oh please, Marinette," he said, falling to his knees. "Your grace and beauty surpass all." The words were so easy to say. Too easy. "Make me the happiest boy in school and go out with me?" He clasped his hands and unleashed the most pitiful expression he knew how to make, not sure if he was even acting.

Marinette flipped her loose hair over her shoulder. "I could never give my heart to my most bitter rival."

"Noooo!" He threw his arms around her waist, pressing his face into her stomach. He heard more than felt her laughter, but inside he ached. Ached as she ran her fingers through his hair and down the back of his neck and then because she pulled her hand away. Ached because it felt so good to be close to her and then because he was letting her go as he stood back up. It was all he could do not to let the ache show through his fake smile as he continued the "joke."

Nino had his face in hands. "I hate both of you," he mumbled through his fingers. "So, so much."

Alya had already given up on them. She was halfway to the bakery.

"That's unfair," Marinette said, shifting her backpack and not looking at Adrien like he wished she would. "This is completely Adrien's fault."

"Mine?" he said, trying to sound scandalized instead of bitterly disappointed. "You're the one who won't go out with me."

She opened her mouth to respond, only to pause when she saw his face. He tried to school his expression, hide the new emotions pulsing through his blood, replace it with a smirk and a wink.

It must have worked because Marinette tapped his nose and said, "Sorry, Adrien. You'll have to ask me again some other time. I'm too busy being single at the moment."

The words cut deeper than they had any right to.

Nino grumbled something and turned away. Across the street, Alya shouted, "Are you two done being stupid yet?"

It seemed like Marinette was the only one who was truly happy after the joke, though he thought he saw something else flash across her face as she looked away. He wanted to pretend that it was longing or maybe regret, but he knew that couldn't be true. Marinette considered him just a friend. They had only been joking.

No, she had been joking. Everything he'd said was real. Why hadn't he realized it sooner?

His compliments, all the praise, asking her out, every single word of it had been real.

The ache settled deep into his heart.

***

The next morning, Adrien arrived at school a few minutes earlier than he normally would have, heart pounding and exhausted as he walked through the front doors. The exhaustion was caused by barely sleeping at all last night, instead being consumed with thoughts of Marinette, her confidence, her hair, her laughter, her quiet beauty, her kindness, and how much he wanted to touch her and spend time with her.

It hadn't even been 24 hours since he'd realized he was in love with her, but it spread through him like an wildfire, burning him up from the inside out, reaching through every part of him and carving out new places for thoughts of Marinette to inhabit, driving him to do something, anything so he could be with her.

His pounding heart was caused by that last bit, the knowledge that he now needed to act. His plan was simple, but he ran through it again anyway as he waited by her locker. As casually as he could, he was going to ask her out. But not on a date. Not yet. If she didn't like him that way (the "if" killed him; he knew she didn't), he wasn't going to mess up his chance by playing his hand too soon. He repeated his line over and over again. "I was just wondering if you'd like to do something other than video games with me some time?"

It was simple. It was normal friend stuff. He leaned against her locker, the cool metal soothing the voice that said she was going to say no, that he was an idiot for even asking her. After joking around yesterday, it was clear that she only thought of him as her weird gaming nerd friend. Why would she want to do other things with him?

But he had to try anyway. If she said yes, it would be a step in the right direction. He would be able to spend more time with her.

Though he tried not to, Adrien watched every person who entered the hallway, waiting for her. His heart leaped to his throat every time he saw black hair, and it crashed back down to his feet every time it wasn't hers.

If she said no, well, he would accept his place as just her gaming buddy, even though it would break his heart. And he could always pretend that their practice sessions were dates, right? Besides, he'd known her for over a year and he'd been okay with being only friends that entire time. It would probably be simple to find his way back to that easy, uncomplicated friendship.

He slipped a little farther down the cold locker door. His argument was very unconvincing, and he swallowed back the tightness in his throat at the idea.

Black hair bobbed into view, and this time it was Marinette's face underneath it. Blue eyes flashing. Smiling broadly at someone who wasn't him.

Excitement and terror washed through him. Her laughter echoed down the hall ahead of her, and he basked in the sound and sight of her. Would he even be able to speak by the time she finally saw him?

Marinette hadn't noticed him yet. She was talking with someone else, and Adrien's eyes flicked to her companion.

Nathaniel was laughing too, then laughing harder at something else Marinette said. Without hesitation, he put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a side hug. Marinette looked content as they walked ever closer to her locker, and that's when Adrien finally accepted the truth.

She was going to say no.

And he couldn't accept just being friends.

With only seconds to make up his mind before she saw him, Adrien did the only thing he could think of.

He ran away.

***

Today's practice was taking place cross-legged on his floor, staring up at his giant television. Marinette sat with him, a six-inch gap separating them, but she looked over at him from time to time, concerned at his silence.

Over the past week, Adrien hadn't given up hope completely, though he knew he should have. Marinette didn't like him that way and was way out of his league. The knowledge didn't stop him from agonizing over the perfect thing to say that would get her to change her mind, or at least give him a chance.

In the end, he had waited too long.

Though he was trying to act like everything was fine, the jealousy ripping through him was affecting his mood, his game, even his face, and had been chewing him up all afternoon. For the millionth time, he tried smoothing out his scowl. He'd already given up trying to shake life back into his numb hands.

B, up, duck, A. Button smashing when he knew he wasn't fast enough. Finally watching as his avatar felt defeated to the mat. Again. He took a shaky breath.

"Okay, what is going on?" Marinette asked, placing her controller carefully down in front of her, lining it up perfectly parallel to her knees. "You're making a lot of rookie mistakes. It isn't like you."

"Oh, just tired," Adrien said, making a show of stretching and lolling back.

"You told me this morning you'd slept really well last night," she said flatly.

"Oh." Right. He'd said that. Shoot. "Tired... from school."

"Okay... What was so-"

Adrien started a new round, forcing Marinette to scramble for her controller and cut off her interrogation.

It was only going to buy him time. If Marinette thought someone was upset, he knew she wasn't going to let it rest until she'd helped them feel better. It was one of many, many things that he loved about her. But he also knew he'd be better off bringing it up before she did, so he could steer the conversation.

They played for a few minutes in silence while Adrien's character was annihilated and he organized his thoughts. "So..." he finally asked, and he was pleased to hear his voice sounding almost normal, not tense like he felt. "What did Nathaniel want to talk to you privately about earlier?"

Adrien knew. She probably knew that he knew.

Nathaniel had asked her out. Adrien had been too slow, and now she was someone else's girlfriend. Could she read the agony on his face underneath the mask of disinterest?

"Oh, Nathaniel asked me for a date." How could she be so calm about the thing that was causing him to die inside? Sensing his distress, his avatar also keeled over and died. Round sixteen ended in defeat.

"Oh? That's..." He gulped. What question would just a friend ask? "When's the big-" He forced the word out. "-date?" That had sounded awful. The words and his delivery.

"I turned him down," she said casually, and just as casually she slaughtered his character again.

The next round began as Adrien blurted out a thrilled, "Really?!"

Marinette's character killed itself by jumping off the edge as she dropped her controller and turned to stare at him.

Adrien cleared his throat. "Really? Too bad for him, I guess." I'm cool about this, Marinette. Not interested in you or your love life at all. His unasked question hung over them: Why did she turn Nathaniel down? He couldn't bring himself to ask.

She continued to stare, considering him, then turned away with a smile she couldn't quite hold in. "I've wiped the floor with you for the past eighteen levels. You want to go again, or are you ready to admit your defeat?”

"And let you rub it in for the rest of our lives? I don't think so."

"I promise not to if you agree to do my homework for the rest of the year."

"I would absolutely love to never do that ever. Bring on level nineteen."

"Oh, that's what I was hoping you would say." Her glance was sly, and Adrien felt a challenge coming on.

Their characters were whirls of pixels, but this time he had no problem keeping up. She'd turned Nathaniel down! Adrien was back on form, matching Marinette stroke for stroke, about to pull out his first win since-

"I bet you were wondering why I said no." Marinette's avatar slipped a punch over his slack fists, knocking him down to half health with one blow. "It's because I already like someone else." With one more kick, she finished him off.

Adrien gripped his controller, not seeing the screen or even her as the next level started playing. Of course she already liked someone. Someone as loving as Marinette would have someone she loved. He'd never even had a chance, even before he'd wanted one. He was an idiot for not realizing.

"Complete devastation!" Marinette said. She meant his character, but she could have been talking about the boy sitting next to her. Both were crumbling to the ground.

The practice session ended early that day. Marinette sent him several questioning looks over the next hour that he stubbornly ignored, and he was glad she didn't push him. He wasn't sure he'd be able to stand her sympathy.

Like the gentleman he was, Adrien walked her to his bedroom door. Even with the awkward tension lingering in the air, he wanted her to stay a little longer. Maybe sensing that, or maybe just still hoping to cheer him up, Marinette hesitated in front of the closed doorway.

Adrien opened his mouth to speak, but when he realized he had no idea what it was he wanted to say, he shut it again slowly. Marinette waited patiently, playing with the hem of her shirt. What could he tell her? Nothing that would help his situation. Nothing that would change her mind about whatever wonderful guy she had her eye on. Nothing that would make her consider her dork of a gaming partner.

Marinette smiled up at him. After the miserable company he'd been all afternoon, she still felt like smiling at him? He almost blurted all his feelings out anyway.

"Well..." she said. "I should go."

Pushing herself up on her toes so she could reach and putting her hands on his shoulders for balance, Marinette placed an unexpected kiss on his cheek, just next to his mouth.

Adrien closed his eyes at the tender touch, heart melting.

I could turn my head, he thought as her lips lingered. I could wrap my arms around her and never let go. The scene was vivid in his mind, her hands slipping from his shoulders to his chest, fingertips tracing the stripes across his shirt. Whispers of how much she loved him. Him pulling Marinette close, her wanting him to.

But it wasn't real. She wouldn't like that, he reminded himself, so he kept still. His hands gripped his jeans to keep them from seeking her out.

When she pulled away a few seconds later, her look was intense. Despite her announced intention to leave, she hesitated. Waiting for something. For him to say something?

The words were right there on the tip of his tongue. Confess! He could do it!

He could, but he shouldn't. She'd just admitted to liking someone else. How disrespectful of her confession would telling her now be? Adrien didn't want to lose her.

"See you tomorrow?" he said, pulling the door open for her.

She frowned, not like she was angry. Like she'd been disappointed. Without another word, she slipped through the door and padded down the wide atrium stairs. He didn't take his eyes off her the whole time, but she didn't turn around to see it. From his spot so far away, he heard the front door click softly behind her.

He stayed put long after she'd gone, replaying the kiss in his mind, what her soft lips felt like, the tingle he'd felt as she'd rested her hands on his shoulders to steady herself, the heat of having her body so close to his.

Had it been all his imagination, telling him what he wanted, or had her kiss really been that close to his mouth? It had felt like she'd almost touched his lips she'd been so close.

The memory was still fresh on his skin, and he outlined the spot hesitantly, then with awe as his finger brushed the corner of his mouth. It wasn't his imagination. She really had.

Maybe... maybe he had misunderstood. Hope bubbled up inside him. She liked someone else, someone other than Nathaniel. He wasn't Nathaniel. What if she'd meant him?

What if he did have a chance after all?

***

Adrien wanted to be absolutely sure. Getting his hopes up again, or listening to Marinette's rejection, would be too painful. He was going to make sure he was the one, so he spent the next week looking for clues that he was the lucky boy she'd set her sights on.

And clues were everywhere.

They were mostly little things, like the way her face would light up when he came around a corner, or how she leaned into his touch when he dared to brush her bangs out of her eyes, or how she didn't scoot away if he sat down close to her.

Four days later, in the middle of a hard level, he experimentally touched his hand to her knee, keeping the pressure as light as he could, in case it wasn't wanted. She scooted closer, like she wanted to make it easier for him to do it again.

Marinette knew about his strict diet and would often bring him goodies, leftovers from the bakery. The following day, she'd brought him ones she'd made herself "with love." That's what she said. The big L word. A small part of him told him to calm down. She could have meant that she loved him as a friend. Most of him excitedly took it as an obvious hint.

Overall, his second favorite hint of her feelings was how she glowed under his compliments.

"These pastries are the best things I've ever tasted! Could you teach me to make them?" Marinette stumbled over her words for the next five minutes.

"Forget competing in the Olympics," he said two days later. "You could be the team coach. You're amazing!" She blushed for the rest of the day.

The best hint, the one that left him reeling, was becoming a common occurrence: she talked to him. Lately, their practice sessions would be filled with long stretches when they chatted about everything and nothing, controllers abandoned.

Today, she lounged on his couch, and he sat on the floor by her head. She'd asked him about his day, and he'd listened to hers, though she admitted herself that it was boring. She'd asked him about his day, then about his dreams for the future.

The honest curiosity she had for his answers, the fact that she even cared, left him leaning the couch for support. Marinette was on her back and smiled up at him as the movement brought him closer.

The conversation hit a lull when he ran out of things to say. Instead of feeling awkward, it was peaceful, and she closed her eyes and sighed.

What a perfect time to test her feelings for him again. Before he could think better of it, he ran his fingers through her hair. Her reaction was immediate. Her whole body relaxed, her smile widening. When she opened her eyes to look up at him, they were soft, maybe even loving.

But the "maybe" was still too daunting, and he pulled his hand back and looked away.

He needed to tell her how he felt. He liked her too much not to. He wanted her to look at him like that all the time. So why was he pulling out the controllers again to avoid her? Was it really better to wait and see what happened? Or should he just lay his heart bare right now?

He settled on the couch next to her, Marinette bending her knees to give him room without moving from her spot. Was she still giving him that loving look? Or had it turned into a frown because he was being a coward? He hunched forward under the weight of all his questions, resting his forearms on his knees.

"I bet I could beat you in my sleep," Marinette said. Her voice sounded normal, so he dared to look at her. Her face was mischievous as she stretched out with an exaggerated sigh, throwing her legs across his lap and pinning his arms down. "Care to bet against me?"

"Um, move. I need those arms."

"Make me."

Two more hints: the ease with which she touched him, and the way she seemed to save her most dazzling smiles just for him.

"Make you?" Massive crush or not, Adrien was not about to pass up a challenge. "I'll make you."

Marinette settled deeper into the cushions, pressing down onto his arms. It was the best trap he'd even been in, and he couldn't reach much to help him, just the coffee table in front of them. Leftover snacks littered the table, along with a half-filled glass of water. He slid it off the edge of the couch as Marinette squirmed to keep him in place.

With his limited movement, he couldn't lift the cup very high, so he mimed pouring it over her shins. She shrieked and kicked him in her scramble to get out of the way, and the glass spun out of his hand, splashing water all over him before landing on the floor. It soaked into his shirt and dripped through his hair.

"I'm sorry!" Marinette jumped up immediately, flapping her arms around her head so fast they blurred. "I'm so, so sorry. I shouldn't have-"

"It's fine," he assured her while rivulets of water tickled his down scalp. "It wasn't that much water."

She groaned at the lie. "I'll go get you a towel."

Before he could protest, she ran toward the bathroom door. Adrien followed her, dripping. "It was my fault. Please don't-"

A fluffy towel muffled his words as she threw it over his head and started rubbing it into his hair. "Marinette," he mumbled. "You don't have t-" The pace of her hands became less frantic as she moved from the crown of his head, moving down to dry the back.

"Sorry," she whispered. Her tempo became even slower as she worked the sides of his heads, rubbing gently so she wouldn't hurt his ears. Plans to "accidentally" get himself soaked on a weekly basis were already starting to form in his mind. He wasn't sure if it was the attention she was paying him or her rhythmic pace as she stroked circles around his ears, but every muscle in his body seemed to be melting.

"Is that any better?" she asked. Her hands stilled, but she didn't remove the towel from his face. Her breathing was quick and shallow.

Adrien lifted up the edge to reveal Marinette's panicked face. What did she think? That he was going to hate her because of some water? He wasn't a cat.

Her eyes searched his, looking for anger or rejection or who knew what, and he gently grabbed her face with both hands to bring her back to reality. And as an excuse to act out at least the beginning of every fantasy he had about kissing her. With the way she was looking at him, he could even pretend that they were about to come true.

"It's fine," he said, rubbing a thumb across her cheek. "I'm all dry now." A cold spot was soaking through at his shoulder, but he ignored it.

After a few more seconds of wide-eyed staring, Marinette slid the towel off his head and looped it behind his neck, holding onto both ends and giving no indication that she wanted him to remove his hands. So he didn't.

Another clue. It finally was enough. He knew.

Leaning in slowly, so she would have time to change her mind, he looked at her lips, then raised an eyebrow in question. Marinette used the towel to pull him closer to her, closing her eyes. A rush of heat swooped in his stomach when he felt her body brush against him. Her breath fanned his face as he inched closer. They hovered, anticipation building, noses brushing, lips quivering, until he tilted his head and finally closed his eyes.

Without warning, the door swung open. "Adrien."

Marinette and Adrien jumped apart, the towel falling on the floor.

Nathalie walked in, staring at her tablet and almost ignoring the teenagers she was speaking to. She hadn't noticed anything. "Your piano teacher is here. Ms. Dupain-Cheng's ride is waiting downstairs." Without another word, or even looking around the room for them, she left, leaving the door open after her.

"Um," Adrien said. Cursing the interruption, he bent to pick up the towel. When he straightened he reached out for Marinette's hand, but she was already across the room, picking up her things and not looking at him, her face glowing red.

She snuck him a peek once as she was putting her shoes back on, but when she saw him staring at her, she looked down again. Probably because he was gaping at her like an idiot.

Marinette finally walked back over to him, eyeing the wet spot on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-

"Want a hug?" he asked, offering his arms. "It's nice and cold."

She chuckled as she leaned into him, resting her cheek against his. "Thanks for having me over." Her breath blew his hair, tickling him. "And for letting me beat you."

"Oh, yes," he said. The hug didn't feel cold at all. It was warming him up from head to toe. "I lost on purpose, just for you." How was he supposed to just let her walk out his door, when all he wanted to do was hold her and never move from this spot again? "Because your happiness is so important to me."

As she pulled away and stepped back, he grabbed her hand, and then just as quickly let it go, unsure how to recreate the mood that had so quickly evaporated.

They waited, neither moving, Adrien hoping for at least another goodbye kiss like she'd given him last week. Without warning her expression crumpled, and she walked through the door without saying goodbye at all.

She'd been waiting, he realized as soon as she was gone. She'd been waiting for a goodbye kiss, too.

Adrien ran to the window in time to watch her walk down the front steps. He followed her with his eyes as she slid into the car. When she turned to pull the door closed behind her, she paused, looking straight at him. He waved, but she shut it without returning the gesture.

"Tomorrow," he vowed. It was Saturday, and they had another practice in the morning. The first words out of his mouth were going to be his confession.

He just needed to figure out what to say.

***

Saturday mornings used to mean stifling isolation. There was no school to look forward to. His tutors often had the day off, and if there wasn't a photoshoot, he was likely to be confined to his room. Another benefit of having Marinette in his life was that he was no longer alone on the oppressive weekends.

"You're smart, and kind, and funny." Adrien muttered to himself in the back seat, his driver occasionally looking at him with concern through the rearview mirror. He'd been rehearsing multiple versions of his speech since last night. It was only a few minutes until he saw her, and he still hadn't decided what to say. Should he just blurt it out? "Marinette, I love you." Or should he build up to it? "I've loved spending time with you, and you're my best friend, and lately you've become more than that." He tested them both out. They were both fine, so why did they both sound so... wrong?

Maybe he wasn't being specific enough. Anyone could tell her she was great. So what should he say about her specifically? This only led him back to all the other lists of rehearsed lines he'd come up with in the last 12 hours, her confidence, her infectious joy, her compassion...

The car pulled up to the curb, and Adrien stepped out, knees a little wobbly with anxiety. He was going to have to just wing it. Say what felt right in the moment. Which was a terrifying idea, but now he had no choice.

The bell tinkled and the smell of fresh bread and chocolate chip cookies filled his nose as soon as he pushed open the bakery door. Sabine and Tom turned to him with wide smiles.

"She's already waiting for you," Sabine said, waving him through the door to their upstairs apartment. "Have fun!"

His footsteps seemed to echo through the small hallway. Hesitating only a second, he knocked on the door that led into her living room, and waited, heart pounding.

Marinette, I have something to tell you. Marinette, I love you. Marinette, before we start to play, can we talk? He'd promised himself. The first words out of his mouth would be his confession. Don't mess it up, Adrien. Just tell her you love her. 

The door was yanked inward so fast that it hit the wall. Adrien jumped. "M-marinette. I lo-"

"I've got a new idea! Come here!" She reached through the doorway and clamped down on his wrist, then turned and towed him through the living room and up her stairs. A woman on a mission.

He had no idea what that mission was, or what really was happening, so his imagination started supplying possibilities. She got a new game? She needed to show him her newest art project? He tripped on the top step when he thought that maybe she was dragging him up to her room because she couldn't wait to kiss him.

He imagined her snapping the trapdoor shut, with the pink curtains closed and her room dimly lit by filtered light. She would let go of his hand, then turn around to face him, before slowly stepping into his space. She'd slide her hands up his shirt, stopping at the collar, grabbing fistfuls to pull herself closer. And closer. Their faces were millimeters apart. He could count the lashes of her half-closed eyes. He reached for her eagerly, wrapping both arms around her waist, pulling her closer, her stomach flush against him.

"I love you," she whispered. "You're the only one for me." Her lips parted slightly as her eyes slid shut.

Marinette's voice was suddenly bright and cheery. "Pick your favorite button!"

Adrien's daydream popped.

Sunlight flooded her room through uncovered windows. Her trapdoor was still open, as her parents had always requested, and she waited for an answer expectantly, bouncing on her toes and not looking smitten in the slightest.

"Uh, what?"

"Buttons," she repeated. "Which one's your favorite?"

She'd dragged him upstairs for sewing help. He cleared his throat and smoothed out the collar of his shirt, which hadn't been rumpled by her hands.

"I've never thought about it," he said, keeping the disappointment out of his voice. "Flat buttons are probably the easiest to sew with, but Father says shank buttons are almost as easy, and I think they look... What?"

Marinette was laughing at him. "No, your favorite controller button, you goof." She waved one in front of his face. The A button had been taped down. Taking it in both hands again, she mimed playing an intense round. Enthusiasm bubbled off of her. He had no idea what this was about, but he was already on board with whatever it was. (Even if it wasn't kissing.)

"I'm confused." And also in love with you. 

It was too late for his confession to be the first thing out of his mouth. His fingers itched to touch her, but she was too excited to let him interrupt.

"See, we're getting too good. We need a new way to push ourselves, so I thought, give ourselves a handicap." She pointed at the incapacitated button. "And go head-to-head. What do you think?"

"I think that's amazing."

As soon as the moment passed, he'd realized what a perfect opportunity he'd missed. Marinette was scrambling across her room to tape down the B on his controller. "You're," he whispered, too quiet for her to hear. "I think you're amazing."

"Catch!" The controller flew, and he caught it deftly. Marinette flopped onto the chaise, leaning sideways against the cushioned back, leaving enough room for him to sit at the end, if he didn't mind her feet poking his thigh, which he definitely did not.

The computer monitor flickered as Marinette scrolled through the settings. Adrien leaned forward as the round began, trying to ignore the way her toes jabbed him when he got a hit on her. It didn't happen very often. The handicap was almost impossible to play with. Marinette won every round easily. At the end of the fourth round, she covered a fake yawn and stretched lazily, and he finally realized something important.

"You practiced this beforehand, you dirty cheater!"

Marinette laughed wickedly as his character was knocked out again.

"You're almost as good as I am now, young grasshopper. I've got to maintain my superiority somehow!"

"We both know that isn't true." He swiped for her hands, but she was too fast, moving the controller out of his reach. "Give yourself a second handicap."

"Make me," she said, her feet pushing against him to press herself further into the back of the chaise.

"Give it."

"No."

He leaned over her legs and into her space, but she kept the controller away from him, grinning wildly. Feigning defeat, Adrien leaned back. When Marinette lowered it into her lap, he pounced forward, but she was still too quick, lifting both hands behind her head, hiding it out of sight.

"Hand it over!"

"No!"

He reached, and she leaned back farther, one elbow poking his cheek. Pushing into her, he strained to get the controller, and she arched underneath him to keep it away.

His arms were longer than hers. He should have been able to get it. His fingers found her wrists, and he slid them up to find her fingers.

A warm breath on his cheek made him stop. He was face-to-face with Marinette. He was nearly lying on top of her, pressing her into the chaise. They were both breathing hard, though they'd barely moved. One of her pigtails was loose.

"It's not fair," he said, mouth dry. "You need to make it even."

She lifted her head, until her face filled his vision and their noses touched. "Make me." Her lips brushed his with each word.

He kissed her.

Every longing moment, every loving thought he'd ever had about her poured through him into his kiss. Again and again his lips found hers. Somewhere, a controller clattered to the floor, and then her hands were on him, in his hair, splayed against his neck, pulling him closer, and he kissed her harder, caressing her face, pulling out her loose pigtail so he could feel her soft hair between his fingers.

Kissing a line from the corner of her mouth to ear and back, he asked, "Have I sufficiently dazed you?"

She hummed dreamily in response.

Kissing just below her ear, he asked, "Think you can play like this?"

A whisper. "No."

Taking his time, he worked his way back across her cheek, making sure to kiss every inch until he reached the corner of her lips, but he stopped just shy of them, gently kissing her nose instead. "Good."

Somehow, he managed to pull himself off of her. Marinette clutched at his shirt, trying to get him to come back, but he circled the chaise and retrieved her controller, holding it out to her. He loved the way her fingers hovered over her mouth as her eyes wandered up his arm. When her eyes reached his lips, her fingers pressed down hard, like it was the only way she could stop herself from kissing him again.

"Up for another round?" he asked, pointing a thumb over his shoulder to the computer screen.

"Yes, but not of that." She scowled. Half of her hair was loose around her shoulder.

"Let me win this game and you have a deal."

"Never."

"Poor, Marinette," he said, settling down next to her and clicking Start. "No more kisses for you."

Ten seconds into the round and Adrien already knew his plan was going to end badly. His hands were shaking. Marinette's character wobbled. Every time he licked his lips, he could still taste her.

And she had realized that if she rubbed her toes against his hip, he would jump and look over at her. The first time she did it, he was unsure if it had been on purpose, but the second, he turned to find a sly smile waiting for him. This girl was going to drive him crazy.

"I don't think much of your tactics," she said a minute later, as her character finished him off. It had taken three times longer than normal because they were both awful. "You're clearly just as dazed as I am."

"Not nearly enough," he said. Tossing the controller onto the desk, he reached for her waist and slid her into his lap. She came willingly, looping her arms around his neck and weaving her fingers into his hair.

One of his hands stayed at her waist, the other reached up and pulled her other pigtail loose. "You really do look good like this," he breathed.

"You love me," she giggled. "Admit it."

He leaned forward, forehead resting on hers, eyes locked. "Make me."

"Oh, believe me-" Marinette's voice was a low whisper, and Adrien felt a thrill. "I will."

***

Author’s note: This might just be my new favorite thing I’ve ever written.  :)  I wrote this in response to a poll I took a zillion years ago.  It’s finally here!  Thank you @ours-polaires, @khanofallorcs and @actuallycannotflirt for beta’ing this one!  I know it was long, and I truly appreciate the help!

@tbehartoo