#like seriously the guilt is unreal. i want to tell them that i’m really sorry and that it’s okay if they want to start being crueler to me

[spelllingandthemysteryschool]

i feel guilty when my parents are sweet to me and i feel like i do not deserve it because i know i’m going to break their hearts very soon

[madswritingvoid]

Say You’re Sorry

Pairing: Max Phillips x f!reader

Words: 3k (oops haha)

Warnings: SMUT. 18+ only. Oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, p in v sex, fingering, swearing, slight choking, first time writing smut should probably be a warning itself, sexism, Max Phillips is a warning probably.

You knew it was a bad idea. Well, actually, no you didn’t. Not fully. The voice in your head was just screaming at you to stop - there were other ways to get his attention. Other ways to make Max feel bad for what he did during the Synersavers presentation that didn’t require you stooping this low. Fuck it, you figured, if he can go around and do whatever he wants to get his way then so can I.

Fixing your hair and outfit in the mirror one last time, you went back into the office looking for the desk you usually avoid like the plague. Max Phillips, fuck you.

Earlier That Day

“So you see, Mr. Jacobson, our third quarter projections have us coming in on top by two million dollars and the fourth quarter is looking even better. I mean really champ, if these numbers were anymore amazing they’d be as hot as your associate there in that fetching skirt,” Max winks at the woman taking meeting minutes for your potential new client, causing her skin to blotch, “fucking unreal. Pardon my French,” he finishes, earning a big laugh from the CEO of Synersavers, the new bullshit placebo pill that was supposed to alter the brain’s natural neural pathways to promote synergy. You weren’t sure what dreams synergy was helping pathetic humans to achieve, but it meant a bonus if they signed on so you made sure that PowerPoint presentation was the best slides of your career.

You scoff, worried that if you roll your eyes they’ll get stuck. You know Max Phillips was quite the charmer, you knew better than anyone in the office. This past year saw him go from being just your hot vampire boss you had a crush on, to your hot vampire boss that was now your boyfriend. 

While you never made an official statement to your coworkers, you quietly signed the papers Amanda in HR needed signed and let the sound of you screaming Max’s name in his office while he was balls deep inside you let the rest of your coworkers know of your relationship. Overall, Max was a great boyfriend. Better than expected even - attentive, caring, protective to a fault, all while still being that loveable (?) piece of shit frat boy extraordinaire he had been at the beginning. 

You knew he still had to lay on the charm to close sales from time to time, never actually violating your relationship in any way, but after the fight you had this morning you didn’t think flirting with the only person in the meeting who did not actually control whether or not this partnership was going to happen right in front of you was the best move.

“Mr. Phillips,” Jacobson says, once again only acknowledging Max and completely ignoring you as he had been for the entire presentation, “you got quite the silver tongue. But I like that about ya, I think you get what our product is all about and I wanna make this partnership work. I’m surprised your presentation is as good as it was, because if you’ll pardon my French, if my secretary looked as delicious as yours does I’d be too busy fucking her left, right, and centre to even think about the fourth quarter anything!” He laughs and claps Max on the shoulder and you tense up, sure that Max is going to say something. Not even because he’s your boyfriend, but because he landed the sale and doesn’t have to be as sleazy as this dickhead is. 

“See that’s where you’re wrong Jacobson, it’s almost like I’m working double to avoid her. Just doesn’t get the mojo flowing, y’know? Maybe we should switch, what do you think sweetheart?” He looks over at the still flustered secretary, “Come on and work for me and we’ll work on some new ways of making synergy happen,” he wags his eyebrows and you’re surprised this poor woman hasn’t slid right off her seat. You’re stunned. Even as Mr. Jacobson laughs and brings a laughing Max into some sort of capitalist bro hug, you can’t bring yourself to move. It isn’t until you hear the squeak of the wheels from the chair Mr. Jacobson’s secretary was sitting against the shitty meeting room carpet that you snap back to the present and shut everything down. By the time you finish everyone is long gone, leaving you to stew in your rage.

A hesitant knock on the meeting room door makes you jump as you’re met with a sheepish looking Evan in the doorway. You were never a big fan of Evan when you started, kind of thought he was a wimp but he was nice enough. After getting with Max and learning their shared history, you couldn’t stand Evan, but were able to be far more professional when needed until Max.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was still in here after Max and the Synersavers people left,” he shrugged. “What the fuck do you mean Max left with them?” You asked through clenched teeth. Scratching the back of his neck nervously, Evan took a deep breath before telling you, “yeah, um. They left for a late liquid lunch from what it sounded like, Max said you would be too busy learning how to make a paper clip bracelet to join them… Sorry, he’s such an asshole. You don’t deserve that, especially not from that bastard,” He couldn’t meet your eyes. Even though he still tried to tell you to leave Max every single day, you appreciate him being there this time.

There were many things you could be mean to Evan for, but deep down you knew he didn’t deserve the wrath of your anger this time. 

Later That Afternoon

After taking the elevator up to the office to mentally cleanse his mind from that mindless lunch with that absolute creep Jacobson, Max was trying to come up with the best apology for you. He knew he didn’t have to be so forward flirting with that secretary, what the fuck was her name anyways, in order to win the sexist CEO over. But he was feeling petty after your fight while you were getting ready for work he figured it wouldn’t hurt to remind you that many other women find him quite the catch.

“You’re lying! You have to be lying!! There’s no way that happened oh my god,” Max stops dead in his tracks as he hears your giggles from inside the office. “It is! I totally saw Tim practising the dance moves the day after that Kelly Clarkson concert in the men’s washroom. I didn’t even know she had dancers, but from what I saw it really must have been a hell of a show,” Evan says as you throw your head back and let out another over-the-top cackle. You’re sitting on top of Evan’s desk, resting your hand on his shoulder as he sits in between your open legs, clearly enjoying the attention. 

You’re hamming it up, he knows that, he knows that’s not what your real laugh sounds like - the laugh he gets to hear when he really does something that you like. He knows you don’t mean it but he’s immediately flooded with anger and guilt. He obviously didn’t realize how much the day had taken a toll on you and now you must be really mad if you’re going to Evan to get back at him.

“Oh my god Evan that’s too funny,” you giggle and place a hand on his shoulder, “you just made my day! I won’t tell Tim anything, it’ll be our little secret,” you wink. Evan’s blush deepens at the touch, maybe you weren’t so bad after all and if Max (and Amanda at this point) didn’t look out he would maybe ask you out for a drink sometime soon. Bring you back to the land of the living.

Deciding he’s absolutely had enough, Max quietly comes up behind Evan and slaps both hands on his shoulders after seeing you move yours back to your lap, causing him to freeze and let out a little squeak. “Slugger, I’m sure whatever’s going on here is just too funny, but didn’t I ask you to finish up that presentation for tomorrow’s meeting with NuevaWeight?” he pouts, “I really thought you were taking this job seriously buddy, but maybe I should just get Andrew to take over…”

“N-no Max, sorry. Yeah the presentation is almost done, it’ll be ready before the end of the day,” Evan stammers. Max finally meets your eyes and smirks, “and you can meet me in my office. Apparently you think you can stop doing your job and distracting my employees.”

You can’t even speak, your jaw set and eyes burning from the absolute rage you feel right now. Yeah you’ll meet him in his office, but it won’t be so he can lecture you about whatever bullshit he’s already thought of. “Of course Mr. Phillips, meet you there,” you manage to snap back, calmly making your way to his office. Anyone walking by you immediately gets out of your way, your anger coming off in waves making your undead coworkers shiver.

Clapping Evan on the shoulder one more time, Max saunters over to his office, ready to make you beg for his forgiveness after that little stunt. As soon as he opens his office door he realizes that won’t be happening.

You’re sitting in his chair, legs propped up on his desk in a way that makes your skirt ride up and expose more thigh than what HR might deem office appropriate. “Ah, Mr. Phillips, so nice of you to make it,” you smirk. “Sweets, I think there must be some sort of misunderstandi-'' you cut him off with a dark look and stand up. Walking up to him you close his office door and push him against it, “No champ,” you sneer, “I think you’re confused here. I’m not the one who decided to be a very, very bad boy by flirting with someone else and insulting me in front of new clients.” Chest to chest, your hand slithers up to grab Max’s throat. Even though he is a vampire who could toss you around like a ragdoll, you know he’s letting you be in control. He likes it.

“While you were out entertaining I’ve been thinking about what I could do to make you really sorry, baby. You were already on thin ice from this morning, but now you’re drowning,” you squeeze a little harder on his throat making his eyes roll back. “What are you gonna do? I’m so sorry,” he whispers. You take a moment, just looking into those eyes you love so much, before answering.

“Maybe I’ll sit on your cock. Let you fill my pussy up but not let you cum, because only good boys get to come, you know that Maxie. Maybe I’ll just use you like my own walking, talking dildo. If I’m so replaceable you won’t mind not getting to fill me up? Right?” You smirk again as he whines, his hands clenching because all he wants to do is make you feel good now. 

“You wanna run that mouth, Phillips? You wanna make everything think you’re so fucking special when I know you’re really just a scared little vamp, huh?” You say with a pout. Grabbing his hair, you force his head up so you can look right into his eyes that are now almost completely black from lust. “Come on big shot, if you wanna be a big boy then you gotta show me that mouth can do something other than just spew bullshit, slugger.” 

That’s all the permission he needs. He hoists you up in his arms and thanks to vampire speed you’re now sat on his leather couch, skirt up around your waist, underwear ripped clean off, fully exposed to his hungry eyes. “Baby, I’m so sorry,” he pouts, “let me make you feel good. I just want you-” You’ve heard enough, pushing him down so his mouth finally reaches your core. Moaning at finally tasting you, Max wastes no time taking your clit and sucking hard, already teasing your entrance with one of his long fingers. 

“Y-Yes Max, fuck! Be a good boy and make me cum just like this,” you moan and clench around the finger inside of you, knowing you’re absolutely dripping onto the couch underneath you. He adds a second, then a third, making you arch your back until you’re almost sitting up from how good he’s fucking you with his hands. His mouth doesn’t stop, sucking and licking, spelling out his apologies against your body. Knowing you’re close, he starts focusing on that spot inside of you that drives you wild. 

“Oh! Oh, Maxie yes. Such a g-good boy,” you pant, meeting his hand thrust for thrust trying to reach your high, “make me feel so good please please please baby I’m right there, I-” you can’t finish that sentence as your vision goes white and all you can do is let out a strangled moan that sounds like his name.

Once your legs start shaking you pull both of you up, undoing his belt and pushing him onto the couch so you can straddle his waist. You wrap a hand around his neck and start nipping at the area, rocking your soaked pussy along his aching cock that was now free from the confines of his dress pants a few times before sinking down on him. A wicked grin stretches across your face as his moans get louder. He chokes when he feels you gush around him, not expecting you to come again so soon but you were still sensitive from his mouth, the hair above his cock rubbing deliciously against your clit, but you wanted more still. 

Picking up the pace, you squeeze around his throat again and start taunting him, “You gonna replace me baby? Yeah? You gonna find a pussy that takes you this good? Be my guest. Go right now and find something better, or show me how goddamn sorry you are.”

Granting him permission to take over, Max flips you on your back, making sure your head is supported by one of the couch cushions. He immediately wraps your legs around his waist, angling one leg to let him sink even deep inside of you, your moans mixing together as you both revel in the feeling of him finally being inside of you. Wanting to prove himself he wastes no time pulling out just to start slamming back into you. 

You moan and clench around him, making him hiss and he doesn’t let up. Watching him disappear inside of you over and over again, he starts babbling his apologies. “N-Never baby. Could never replace you. Never gonna find a pu-pussy this fucking good. Look at you, so perfect, so so perfect taking my cock like that. I’m sorry. You’re so good. I don’t deserve it, it’s- fuck it’s so fucking good. Best pussy of all time,” he moans as you clamp down on him, your third orgasm ripping through you. 

“Yes - yes Max, that’s fucking r-right. I’m the best pussy you’ll ever have,” you moan again from being so full. You know he’s sorry so you decide to let him finish after all. Taking your hands off his shoulders, you start tangling your fingers in his hair and bring his face close to your so your lips are almost touching, “you did so good Maxie,” you coo, “you cock made me feel so fucking good I know you’re sorry now.” He shudders at your words but keeps his steady pace, trying to make you cum again, still holding back his own impending orgasm. “Thank you baby, ‘m so so sorry, I love you and I just wanna be good for you-” “shhh shhh Maxie, I know I know. You did good baby, now show me how good you are and cum inside of me.” 

That’s all he needs. 

Something between a groan and growl comes deep from within Max as he finally lets go, pushing himself as far as he can inside of you as he starts painting your walls. Coming down from his high, he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck as you start peppering him with kisses wherever you can reach, carding your fingers through his hair.

“I’m really sorry baby,” you hear him mumble into your neck, “I love you.” He kisses along your throat and you hum, moving your head to give him more access. “I know Max, I love you too. I forgive you. But try that again and I’ll cut your dick off in front of the whole office,” you laugh.

He chuckles too, continuing to shower you with love. “As much as I want to stay right here forever baby, let’s go home and I can keep showing you how sorry I am,” he suggests, wiggling his eyebrows to earn a giggle from you, “sounds good Maxie, you’re lucky I’m just sooooo forgiving.”

Untangling from each other and making yourselves as presentable as you care to be, you leave the office hand-in-hand, ready to see what the rest of the night has in store.

[scatter-the-stars]

Prompt: Aspen

prompter: @qyootip

warnings: age difference, adultery (Kurt cheating with Blaine)

note: while not the main focus of the story, I tried my hardest to fill this prompt the best I could

Part 1

The door to the hotel room closes with a soft click and for the first time that day Blaine lets out a deep exhale and relaxes. He loosens the tie around his neck before walking down the small foyer and into the living area of the hotel room. Surprise lifts his eyebrows when he finds Kurt curled up on one of the couches reading a book.

Of all of his son’s boyfriends, Kurt is the first guy he can recall actually liking. Where his son had a tendency to date wild, chaotic men, he was shocked when he first brought Kurt home a year ago. Kurt was nothing like the men Dex dated before. Kurt was calm and sweet and easy-going. And extremely easy to get along with. That’s why their friendship didn’t surprise him. Why he found it easy to have long, deep conversations about anything with Kurt.

All of that was probably a mistake since Blaine has found himself wanting his son’s boyfriend. Those deep conversations over the past year have lead to feelings and desires he shouldn’t feel for someone so fucking unattainable he’s practically the moon.

“Hey.” He walks over to the small kitchen area and grabs a bottle of water from the fridge. “I thought you and Dex were going out tonight?”

“That was the plan. Then he made friends with some guys he met on the slopes and decided to go drinking with them.”

“He ditched you again?”

Kurt closes the book he’s reading and stands. “It’s okay. He said he’ll make it up to me.”

Blaine wants to say something. To tell Kurt that his son has told him that numerous times and has rarely kept his promise. That Dex has a tendency to make promises he doesn’t keep. That he’s done this to him time and time again. But he keeps the words in. Doesn’t want to anger and upset Kurt any further than what he sees he is. Reminds himself that he has no reason to butt in on someone else’s relationship.

“I’m sorry about that.” He twists the cap off the bottle and takes a long drink. “Why didn’t you go with him?”

“I really wasn’t up for dealing with a bunch of drunk guys. So I stayed back and caught up on some reading.

Blaine further loosens his tie. “If you’re up for it, I have reservations at a restaurant. Want to join me?”

“I’d love to.”

“Great. I’ll get ready and meet you back here in forty minutes.”

Kurt is already waiting for him when he walks out of his room. His breath is stolen at the sight of him. At how stunningly gorgeous he is.

It’s not the first time he’s had such a thought about his son’s boyfriend. The very first time he saw Kurt, he thought he was beauty personified. Seriously contemplated for a moment that Kurt was unreal. Couldn’t believe someone so stunningly beautiful could be real.

He still has those thoughts every time he sees Kurt. Always feels a pang of jealousy toward Dex, then feels guilty for feeling that. Reminds himself to be happy for his son for finding someone so great. Even if his son is screwing up their relationship.

Blaine pulls on his coat to have something to do that isn’t creepily stare at Kurt. “Do you mind if we walk? The restaurant is only a few blocks away.”

“That’s fine. I love walking.”

“Alright. We can head out.”

Aspen is gorgeous as they walk to the restaurant. The sun has just finished setting and the night sky is coming alive with stars. White Christmas lights are wrapped around trees and lit up. A small layer of snow covers everything.

It never fails to put a smile on Blaine’s face. And he always appreciates the beauty around him. Never takes it for granted. Loves that he gets to experience Aspen this way every year.

They reach the restaurant and are immediately escorted to a table after their coats are taken. Blaine takes a seat as Kurt sits across from him.

“This place is nice,” Kurt states.

“It is. I try to come here every time I’m in Aspen.”

A sommelier comes and Blaine orders a bottle of wine.

“I can’t believe you get to come here every year,” Kurt says after the sommelier leaves. “I wanted to come so bad last year, but Dex made those plans and I couldn’t.”

Blaine remembers that. Remembers the disappointment he felt when he found out Kurt wouldn’t be able to come to Aspen with him. Then felt guilt streak through him at realizing he didn’t feel as upset when he realized Dex wouldn’t be there joining him like usual.

“I’m glad you could make it this year.”

“Me too.”

Their server arrives and Blaine’s cock twitches when Kurt orders his food and perfectly speaks French while doing so. He crosses one leg over the other and presses his thighs together for some relief.

“I always love hearing you speak French. I think I only know the bad words.”

Kurt laughs. “I learned because-“

“You want to go to Paris one day,” Blaine finishes.

“Yeah.” Kurt wears a look of surprise. “You remembered that?”

“Of course. You looked so hopeful and determined when you said it. I never forgot how you looked.”

A blush stains Kurt’s cheeks. Blaine wants to reach over and stroke thumb over his cheek. To feel that warmth under his touch.

“Dex doesn’t know I speak French,” Kurt says.

“He doesn’t?”

Kurt shakes his head. “He’s not big on learning much about me.”

“What is he big on, then?”

“Drinking, playing video games, and hanging out with his friends.”

Blaine exhales a heavy breath. He really hoped Dex had gotten past this phase of life he’s in. That he would finally grow up and learn to be a responsible adult. He thought he was headed that way when he started dating Kurt, who is everything he needs his son to be.

“Forgive me for being so forward with my next question, but why are you still with him? You could do so much better, Kurt.” Of course, Blaine wants to tell Kurt the better he’s talking about is himself. That he could treat him how he deserves to be treated.

“I, um… I have my reasons.”

“I hope they’re good ones.”

A grin teases at Kurt’s lips. “They are.”

Blaine really doesn’t want to find out said reasons. Not if they put that kind of look on Kurt’s face.

Their food arrives. They eat and carry an easy conversation throughout the meal. There are several times Blaine shifts in his seat when his cock gives an interested throb as he watches Kurt talk and eat. It’s almost erotic in a torturous way.

After they finish their meal, Blaine orders dessert, gives a friendly smile to the older gentleman who smiles at him from a few tables over.

“Who are you-“ Kurt looks back to see who he’s smiling at. “Oh.” He faces forward, a blank look on his face. “Are you going to talk to him?”

Blaine swears he hears a hint of jealousy in Kurt’s voice. But he doesn’t want to get his hopes up. Squashes that hope that started sprouting before it grows into something that will disappoint him.

“No,” he tells Kurt. “I’m just being friendly.”

“Don’t let me stop you, Blaine, if you want to go talk to him. I understand. You deserve to have some fun this trip.”

“I promise you, Kurt, I’m happy right here. I don’t want to go and talk to him.”

A sad smile spreads across Kurt’s face. “You should. At least then one of us would be having fun.”

Blaine cocks his head at that. “What does that mean?”

Kurt finishes the wine in his glass. He breathes and on the exhale he says, “It means that Dex hasn’t touched me in weeks.”

Blaine sees Kurt’s eyes go wide at his confession. Watches as his cheeks flush from embarrassment as he looks away.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Kurt softly mumbles. “Can you forget I said that?”

“Of course.” The last thing he wants to do is further embarrass Kurt.

“Thanks.”

They finish their desserts.

Blaine pays and they leave. Start the walk back to their hotel. A light snow has started falling. He pulls his coat tighter around his body. Shoves his hands into the pockets.

“I love the snow.”

When he says that, Blaine looks at Kurt and nearly stumbles at the sight of him. At his face slightly tipped up to the night sky and lips pulled into a soft smile. At his eyes looking up and taking in the beauty of not just the snow but the wonder of the Earth.

“The sky is so beautiful here,” Kurt softly murmurs, more to himself than anything.

Blaine is positive nothing is as gorgeous as Kurt in that moment. He quickly looks away and mentally scolds himself for that thought; for all the thoughts he’s had of Kurt since they arrived in Aspen two days ago. It’s wrong for so many reasons. Not only is Kurt twenty-two years younger than him, but there is the huge deal of him being his son’s boyfriend. And he should not be having those kinds of thoughts about Dex’s boyfriend.

“Yeah, it is.” He figures he needs a drink and to get laid, like Kurt suggested.

“It’s crazy. You live in the city for so long and you forget that the sky can be so beautiful and amazing.” Kurt looks to Blaine. “You forget a lot of things after a while.”

Blaine sees the sadness pass over Kurt’s face after he says that. He wants to question Kurt and what he’s really talking about but stays quiet. Doesn’t want to push him about something that clearly upsets him.

They don’t talk much after that. In fact, except for a few words from him, Kurt is completely silent. Blaine can see he’s lost in thought. Contemplative about something. There are several times that he wants to pull him into his arms and hold him. To give him the comfort and attention that he so obviously craves but isn’t getting.

The room is quiet when they make their way inside a few minutes later. Kurt calls out for Dex but no reply comes.

“I guess he’s still with his new friends.” Kurt shrugs out of his coat and hangs it in the hallway closet.

Blaine pulls off his coat and hangs it. “I need a drink after walking through that. Do you want one?”

“Sure.”

At the small bar that’s set up in the space between the kitchen and living room area, Blaine pours two glasses of whiskey for Kurt and himself.

Kurt walks up next to him and takes the glass he offers. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Blaine watches Kurt lift the glass to his lips and easily knock back the two fingers of whiskey he poured in it. He bites a groan at the sight. Finds it extremely sexy and arousing. His cock gives a twitch. Heat pools in his belly as Kurt trains his eyes on him while running his tongue along his bottom lip.

He’s not sure what’s happening. But he can feel it. Can feel the tension and pulsing need building between them. It’s palpable. And he isn’t sure he wants to ignore either.

“Kurt-“ His next words die with a surprised Oomph when Kurt suddenly crashes their mouths together.

A beat of time passes between his brain registering what is happening and returning the kiss. The glass he still holds slips from his fingers and falls to the floor. It shatters and sends glass and whiskey scattering at their feet. But he ignores it in favor of pulling Kurt as close as he can. He grabs Kurt and lifts him in his arms; walks with him to the kitchen area and sets him on one of the stools at the breakfast bar.

The sound of another glass shattering against the floor rings in the air a few seconds later. It takes Blaine a second to realize it was the glass Kurt was holding.

Pressed close to Kurt, groaning at their bulges rubbing together, he holds the back of Kurt’s head and deepens the kiss. Pushes his tongue past Kurt’s lips and strokes their tongues together.

Kurt beautifully moans and arches into him. Plants his hands on his ass and squeezes while opening his legs wider and rocking harder into him.

Blaine groans. Ignores that voice in head telling him this is wrong. That reminds him this is Dex’s much younger boyfriend who is probably making decisions because he’s drunk.

That last thought has him pulling back. He breathes heavily. Cock throbbing at the sight of Kurt looking up at him with lust-darkened eyes and kiss-swollen lips.

“Why’d you stop?”

“We shouldn’t do this.” Blaine takes a few steps back to breathe and clear his head. “You’re drunk and not thinking straight.”

Kurt erases the space Blaine created. Presses close to him again. “I’m not drunk, Blaine.”

“Prove it.” It’s stupid of him to encourage Kurt. To encourage whatever this may be.

Kurt smirks. “Fine.”

Blaine lets out a short chuckle when Kurt recites the alphabet. Backwards.

“Told you: not drunk.” Kurt leans in and brushes their mouths together. “Can we continue now?”

Right as he moves to kiss Kurt again, the sound of the main door opening and closing has them jumping apart instantly. Blaine drags the back of his hand across his mouth as Kurt turns away to fix himself. He’s just getting his hard-on down when Dex stumbles into the room right before falling forward and face-planting on the floor.

“Ow,” Dex groans before breaking out into laughter.

“Dammit!” Kurt lets out a tired, annoyed huff of breath. As if this isn’t the first time he’s dealt with this. He makes his way over to his drunk boyfriend.

Blaine walks over and helps Kurt pick Dex up. “Let’s take him to his room.”

They struggle to transport Dex to the room since he tries every few minutes to turn to Kurt and kiss and grope him.

“Stop, Dex,” Kurt says the third time he does this. “Your dad is right there.”

Blaine hides his anger and jealousy when he sees what his son is doing. Grows angrier at the guilt and pleading look in Kurt’s eyes.

He isn’t one to ever truly get angry at his son. But in this moment, he wants to yell at him; to tell him how stupid he’s being.

He grabs Dex and yanks him away from Kurt when he laughs and says he doesn’t care. At least that’s what he thinks he said, the words are too slurred for him to discern much.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt says after he’s deposited Dex on the bed facedown.

“Don’t apologize for him,” he replies. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Help me undress him.”

After undressing Dex down to his underwear, they walk out of the room.

“Thanks for helping me,” Kurt says.

“Of course.”

They don’t say anything. Not about Dex. But especially not about what they were doing before he stumbled into the room.

While cleaning up the broken glass, Blaine momentarily contemplates asking Kurt what that was about. Wants to know how long he’s wanted to do that. But he says nothing. Doesn’t want to put Kurt under that kind of spotlight and pressure right now.

He tosses the last of the glass in the trash.

“Blaine?”

Kurt’s voice comes close by from behind him.

“What?”

“Please, look at me,” Kurt pleads in a small, soft voice.

Blaine turns around. Hates the way his breath hitches and cock throbs at the wanton look he gives him. And he knows what Kurt is going to say when he opens his mouth. He stops him before he can speak by saying, “We shouldn’t, Kurt. It’s a mistake.” He can’t believe he’s actually trying to deny himself this. Is trying to be the good guy. But he knows it’s the right thing to do. And he fucking hates doing the right thing.

Kurt steps close to him. Gazes up at him with those blue eyes that easily draw anyone in. Blaine feels like a helpless fly in a spider’s web, and he doesn’t mind one bit at being captured.

“You’re right. It is a mistake.” Kurt draws his hands up Blaine’s stomach and chest. “But some mistakes are worth making.”

Blaine barely has time to respond before Kurt is kissing him.

He knows he should push Kurt away. Should be the big guy and do the right thing. But he can’t. Because he’s weak when it comes to Kurt. Because the right thing to do will never in a million years feel as fucking good as Kurt does.

A soft growl falls from his lips as he lifts Kurt up in his arms. “Fuck. I can’t tell you no.”

Kurt giggles. “Good. Because I really want you to fuck me.”

Blaine carries Kurt the few feet to the living room and sets him down. They both quickly undress and fall to the couch while making out. Kurt’s soft moans at their cocks rubbing together as he grinds down on him only add fuel to the fire he shouldn’t be stoking.

He pulls up for a deep breath after several minutes. Sits up and takes the opportunity to finally take in Kurt’s naked body. As he stares at Kurt’s gorgeous body, he finds it nearly impossible to believe that Dex has all this to play with and seemingly doesn’t want to any longer.

“Holy fuck!” He silently exclaims. Runs a hand over Kurt’s chest. Ghosts the pad of his thumb over a peaked nipple.

Kurt whines and pushes up into the touch. “Please…”

“What do you want?”

“Don’t care.”

Without thinking, Blaine dips his head down and sinks his mouth down around Kurt’s cock. Kurt loudly gasps and grasps at his hair.

“Fu-“

He sucks Kurt. Twirls his tongue around the swollen head. Teases the tip into the leaking slit. Moans at the taste of Kurt he gets.

It’s been years since he’s gone down on someone. Mainly because he prefers getting head rather than giving it. But for Kurt he would gladly suck his dick every day for the rest of his life without complaint.

Blaine stops long enough to lift one of Kurt’s legs over his shoulder and suck two fingers into his mouth before resuming what he was doing. While sucking and bobbing his head, he presses one of his wet fingers to Kurt’s hole. Kurt momentarily tenses before relaxing and taking the finger.

He works Kurt open with one then two fingers while still sucking his cock. Finally pulls off after some time and grabs for his pants and the wallet in the back pocket.

Kurt strokes his cock while he rips open the condom packet and rolls it on.

After slicking up his cock, and Kurt hooking his legs over his hips, he guides the head to press against Kurt’s hole. Slowly he presses in until the head is surrounded by Kurt’s wonderful tight heat.

A small voice in the back of his head tells him to stop. To consider the consequences if Dex ever found out. But Blaine slams the door shut in that voice. Blocks out anything it has to say.

Kurt flutters his eyes closed and draws his lower lip between his teeth as Blaine sinks inside him.

Blaine continues to gently rock in and out until he’s fully sheathed inside Kurt’s body. He stills inside him. Hips flush with the curve of his ass. He takes a few moments to calm down and soak up the feeling of Kurt gripping his cock. Now knows for sure that any fantasy he had extremely pales in comparison to the real thing.

Kurt is striking as he stares up at him. From his beautiful blue eyes, the blush staining his cheeks, to the smile that teases at his luscious lips.

“Feels so good.” Kurt clenches around him.

“So do you.” Blaine does a small, shallow thrust. Groans at the amazing sensation of his cock sliding in and out of Kurt.

Kurt crosses his ankles at Blaine’s lower back and pushes him down closer to him. “Please start moving.”

So Blaine does. And he doesn’t go easy on Kurt. He plants one forearm on the cushion by Kurt’s head as his other hand shoots up to grip the armrest and uses the leverage to fuck Kurt as deep and hard as he can. Repeatedly slams his hips forward. Does so hard enough to shove Kurt up the couch every time he thrusts.

“Wait,” Kurt says after several minutes.

Blaine immediately stops and sits up. Thinks Kurt has changed his mind about this whole thing. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Kurt shakes his head. “Just want to move.”

After pulling out of Kurt, he watches him turn over and go to his hands and knees. He groans at the sight of his ass. Wants to do so many dirty things to it. Instead, he settles with pushing back inside and continuing to fuck it.

Hands on Kurt’s hips, he watches his cock repeatedly sink inside Kurt as he fucks him. Can’t tear his eyes away from the sight of Kurt stretching open around his cock. Almost wants to pinch himself to make sure this is real. Because he’s had dreams this amazing and has woken up severally disappointed.

Kurt squeezing his dick and thrusting back on him while softly moaning his name, though, tells him that this is real. That he’s actually fucking his son’s boyfriend.

Talk about a dream come true.

Kurt drops his shoulders to the couch. He grips the edges of the cushions. “Fuck me harder.”

Blaine tightens his grip on Kurt’s hips and increases the force of his thrusts. Grunts and groans as he fucks Kurt like a madman. He doesn’t hold back. Fucks Kurt like he’s wanted to for the past year.

Kurt moans and whimpers beneath him. Takes the brutal movements he’s giving him with ease and without complaint.

When Kurt sits up on his knees, Blaine winds an arm around his chest. He takes his mouth in a rough kiss after he turns his head. Plunges his tongue into Kurt’s mouth. Swallows his deep moan. Stills inside him before completely pulling out seconds later.

“Wha-“

“Ride me,” Blaine says after he sits down.

Kurt grins and moves so he’s straddling Blaine’s waist. He grabs at Blaine’s shoulders and lowers his hips.

Blaine bites back a groan as Kurt sinks back down around his cock. “Fu-“ Nothing has ever felt as good as the heat of Kurt surrounding his dick.

“Am I a terrible person if I say I love how you feel inside me? That you feel better than…”

The unfinished thought hangs heavy in the air. Blaine can see the guilt on Kurt’s face.

“If that makes you a terrible person, then I’m a fucking horrible person for not stopping this,” he says to ease what Kurt is feeling.

Kurt leans in and kisses Blaine. “We’re terrible people,” he murmurs against his lips. Starts to gently roll his hips.

Blaine softly hums in agreement. Winds his arms around Kurt and grabs at his shoulders. Gently thrusts up into him.

When it comes to playing by the rules and being a good person, he’s happy to go against what he’s always done. Is more than glad to not do the right thing at this moment.

“Don’t let me go,” Kurt says after reaching back and grabbing Blaine’s knees before leaning back so he’s at an angle.

“I wouldn’t dare.”

Kurt drops his head back and begins to masterfully roll his hips. Moves with the finesse of a dancer. Blaine stares at the beauty of his body. Commits every line and ridge and muscle and scar to memory in case this is the only time this happens. Which he highly believes it will be. Because this can’t happen again. This is a one time time thing. This is them getting out the built-up sexual frustration and tension that’s been between them for the past year.

If this becomes a thing, there’s a better chance of Dex finding out. And that can’t happen. It would devastate Dex and ruin relationships.

So he continues to commit everything to memory.

“Fuck. You’re gorgeous.” There’s no other way to describe how Kurt looks straddling his waist with pleasure written all over his face as he rides his cock.

Kurt sits up and grabs Blaine’s shoulders. “Oh, yeah? You like how I look riding your cock?” He drops his hips and grinds them down.

Blaine groans and flexes his hips up. Grins when Kurt trembles and softly moans. “Love how you look riding my dick,” he growls. “Love watching you fuck yourself on my cock. You’re so fucking hungry for it. You’re so desperate for cock you’re letting your boyfriend’s dad fuck you, aren’t you?”

The words fall from his mouth without hesitation. Blaine knows it has to be the alcohol still coursing through his system that has loosened his tongue. Any other time and he wouldn’t be brave to say what he did. Of course, any other time and he wouldn’t be fucking his son’s boyfriend while said son sleeps only a few feet away.

Kurt softly mewls. “Yes. I needed this.”

That’s a truth Blaine can believe after what Kurt accidentally revealed earlier at dinner. And he’s more than happy to help remedy the situation.

If his son can’t satisfy Kurt, he’ll gladly do the job himself. It’s wrong and fucked-up. But he doesn’t care about that when Kurt feels so fucking amazing. When Kurt looks beyond pleased.

Grabbing Kurt and flipping him to his back on the couch, Blaine sits up on his knees. He grabs the back of Kurt’s knees and pushes them up to his chest. “Oh fuck,” he groans as he sinks deeper inside Kurt’s tight ass.

Kurt arches and lets out a quiet whine. “Fuck me,” he begs. “Fuck me. Make me come.”

Lips smashed together to be quiet, Blaine starts to fuck Kurt as hard as he was doing moments before. Kurt tips his head back and claws at his forearms as he roughly plunges his cock inside him over and over again. He sees him biting his own lower lip to be quiet.

For how hard they try not to make a sound, the noise of their skin slapping together is loud. If Drew wasn’t passed-out drunk, Blaine is positive he would hear that and discover them.

“Look at me, Kurt.” His voice comes out rough and gravelly. Kurt opens his eyes. Blaine sees the pleasure that has darkened his eyes. Sees the deep need he has trouble keeping off his face. “You want to come?”

Kurt nods his head.

Blaine roughly takes Kurt’s jaw in his hand. “Then come untouched.” He crushes their mouths together; shoves his tongue into Kurt’s mouth while continuing to fuck him.

Kurt moans and digs his fingers into Blaine’s back. Moves faster and harder with Blaine.

Several minutes pass before Kurt presses his face into the curve of his neck. Blaine groans when he suddenly sinks his teeth into his skin and comes. He feels the hot splashes of cum coat his stomach as Kurt clenches around his cock.

He thrusts a few more times and comes himself. His cock jerks inside Kurt. He thrust until his orgasm wanes. Collapses on top of Kurt after.

That was easily the best orgasm he’s had in years. And the fact that it happened because of his son’s boyfriend is not lost on him.

“Holy fuck!” Kurt softly exhales near his ear.

“I concur,” Blaine breathlessly replies.

They both lie there in a star of bliss and pleasure. Both of them breathe heavily and say nothing.

It takes a few minutes before Blaine can fully function. He sits up and pulls out of Kurt.

They still say nothing. Time passes and they just stare at each other. The full realization of what they just did slowly starts to dawn on them.

“I… I should go before Dex wakes up and wonders where I am.” Kurt sits up and gathers his clothes. “This was, um… I…” He stands; covers himself with his clothes. “Yeah. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yeah.” Blaine stays seated for a long time after Kurt scurries away going over in his head what he did. He drops his head in his hands and groans as the reality of the situation fully slams into him.

What the fuck did he just do?

He just fucked his son’s boyfriend.

“Fuck!”

The next two weeks in Aspen are about to be real interesting.

[dollfaced-erin]

Not So New Afterall (Sdv Sebastian x F!Reader)

A/n: Sebastian might be a little OOC, but trauma really turns someone 180 degrees, don’t you agree?

PLUS! I changed a few things in the previous chapter, I’m sorry!! The structure of everyone’s house should differ a little, since we need a bathroom and all--

CHAPTER SIX

A few knocks were heard rapping on his door. Unfamiliar with the rhythm, Sebastian answered “Come in” without a second thought.

Too preoccupied with his computer, he never realized who actually walked in his room. But with the way the visitor remained quiet and respectful, he was sure it wasn’t Sam or Abigail nor his mother. He peeked over his computer and was met with (e/c) eyes before going back to his work.

“Oh, hey. Gimme one sec,” he greeted shortly before increasing his typing speed on the computer, determined to finish his work as soon as possible to talk with the (h/c) girl that had walked in.

After a few minutes of the sound of typing, he spoke up. “Okay,” he breathed out in relief. “Sorry about that. I just needed to finish what I was working on,” he said, leaning and stretching himself on the chair. 

(Y/n) walked over to him, peering at the screen of his computer. Sebastian was clicking on a few options, saving what he was doing.

“What are you working on?” she asked, watching the screen that was incredibly detailed with coding terms. It was really complicated to look at, nowhere near ready to be able to read nor create one of her own. He was truly a master at this.

“I do freelance work as a programmer,” he said before turning his gaze over to the girl. Then, the hand on the mouse stopped clicking. His face turned pale as the memories from last night’s occurrence begin to race his mind once more.

“Sebastian?” asked (Y/n), her smile dropped in confusion.

He didn’t hear her. In her place, he saw the lively younger (Y/n), her (e/c) shining brightly and signature childish smile across her lips. And before his eyes, the perfect image of the girl he once loved was replaced with the gory scene of her accident. Panic began to well in his chest, his breathing began to get irregular, he--

He was stopped by a warm sensation on his cheek. He gasped, his mind becoming clear once more. (Y/n)’s face was painted with an expression of confusion and concern. Her hand was placed on his cheek, softly cupping the soft flesh.

“Sebastian? What’s wrong?” she asked once more, her eyes scanning every inch of his face to get somewhat an answer what was happening. 

Sebastian began to take in his surroundings, taking in that he was safe in his room, the warmth on his face keeping his steady and calm. This wasn’t the past, this was reality. Without realizing, he reached for the warmth on his face without actually knowing what it is, placing his hand on hers.

“Wh-what? How are you still alive?” he whispered out without giving a second to his thoughts. 

Confusion etched onto (Y/n)’s face from the question. “What do you mean?” she asked, herself panicking. Was she supposed to be dead? What happened to him?

“You...the accident. The...the truck. All that blood. How are you still alive?!” he said, his eyes watering. “Don’t you remember? Your scar! I...we....that game! Then...then..” he stammered. He was starting to break down.

“Sebastian! Calm down!” (Y/n) exclaimed, her hands moving to his shoulders. Giving them a tight squeeze, she stared back straight into his eyes. “I’m alive! I’m safe, alright? I’m right here.”

“It’s okay,” she said softly, kneeling down next to him. He was starting to cool down, but his eyes never left hers. “It’s gonna be okay. I’m right here. I’m alive and healthy, aren’t I?” she asked with a soft smile. 

“Yeah,” he said, his breaths getting more even. “But...I need to know,” he said, latching his hands on her wrists that held his shoulders. “Where did you get those scars?” he began to compose himself.

“Like I told you yesterday. I got it from when I was a kid back then,” she said, the small smile never leaving her face. 

“I said where, not when (Y/n),” he said sternly. Sebastian’s grip tightened slightly on the petite maiden’s limbs. They were quite sturdy and stiff from all the farm work, but he bet beneath the long-sleeved (f/c) shirt she wore was two arms beginning to gain biceps, or they were already there.

The (h/c)-haired female visibly gulped. The smile she wore came down, before she looked down in guilt. She let out a sheepish chuckle, a small wistful smile on her lips. 

“I won’t lie nor deny, but I think I understand what you said a moment ago,” she said. “I was--”

“Sebastian?” Robin asked as she came into the room. On instinct, Sebastian let go of (Y/n)’s arms and the latter shot straight up. Both of them awkward at the sudden intrusion of the ginger. 

The said woman walked into the room and looked at her son and the farmer in his room. “Oh, hi (Y/n)!” she chirped cheerfully. “Sebby, I know that you don’t like it when I come in here, but I ran into Abigail at the store and she said she was looking for you,” the older woman said. 

The raven-haired boy groaned a little, already having to go to Sam’s to hang out, and now Abigail? He ran a hand down his face. “Did you tell her I’m working?” he asked. Crush or not, it didn’t matter who it was when he was working.

“I did, but she said she’d probably stop by anyway,” the ginger said, quite sorry for interrupting her son when he was working. Her son sighed. “No one takes my job seriously.”

“No one bothers Maru when she’s working at the clinic...does everyone think I just surf the web all day?” he complained aloud as his mother walked out of the room, leaving the two. Although she had a little thought nagging in her mind when she laid her eyes on the two.

As the ginger left, a notification sound clicks in. He picks up his phone. “Ah, another emergency module needs to be made. Don’t think I’m kicking you out, (Y/n), but apparently I need to get this module done by tomorrow,” he apologized, getting up from his seat.

“We’ll talk more later, okay?” he told her as he easily loomed over her smaller figure. “I come out during evenings to clear my head, so come by then,” he said with a small smile on his lips. “And you can tell me my answer then.”

“Alright then,” (Y/n) said simply. She knew his work wasn’t one to joke with. She was lucky she never wanted to step into the programming world. “I’ll see you then. Good luck and don’t stress out too much, you hear me?” she wished before leaving the room.

Instead of leaving the mountains, (Y/n) figured that she could probably stop by Abigail’s and hang for a while. She took one last glance at the house Robin built, before she was well on her way.

“Mom?” Sebastian called, as he stepped out of his room a few hours later. His mom was looking back at her blueprints, looming at what she could improvise and improve. But from the voice of her son, she raised her head. 

“Yeah? What’s up, honey?” she asked, a bright smile on her face. Her son coming out of his room was a good thing, but for some reason, she felt a little...guilt piling up in her stomach since the past few days.

“Did...(Y/n) come here before?” he asked his mother, but she looked a little confused at his question. “Yeah? I mean, not after she stopped by your room, though,” she answered, although that wasn’t the answer that he wanted.

“No, I meant has she come here before actually moving here?” he rephrased his question, catching his mother off guard. She debated with herself within her own thoughts. What sort of answer should she give him? What good would it be?

But she knew, deep down in her heart she wasn’t able to hide the truth from him forever. Eventually he had to find out. Especially since the girl had moved here.

“Yes...she did,” she answered with a soft smile on her lips, her gaze down.

But it was sooner than she expected.

 “Wh...what happened after the accident?” he asked before Robin pointed to the seat in front of her counter, gesturing her son to take a seat as they went further into this matter. “What happened...?”

“You were terribly shaken up after the accident,” she said, placing a hand on her son’s face, just as (Y/n) had done earlier. “She comes to visit the valley every Fall to stay with her grandfather during the school break. She usually would stay for a few weeks, but it had been cut down to two since some things came up.”

“You were really upset that day, the last day she was here. You were really attached to her, y’know?” she chuckled, quite amused with the way her son used to act around the (h/c)-haired girl. “You would be so shy around her, the two of you holding hands all the time if she wasn’t with Abby.

“So you told me what was bothering you, then I told you to just man up and tell her,” she giggled as she saw her son’s face turn beet red. “But...” she sighed. “It failed horribly, don’t you think?

“When you were sent to the hospital, we tailed along with Pam in her bus, right behind the ambulance. We were parted when you were taken into the ER, with all your friends. But when I came to see you, you...had another look in your eyes. You were really....unresponsive from the accident.

“When I saw the blood and little (Y/n) on the ground, I froze in place. I couldn’t imagine how it must’ve been for you, when you witnessed it first hand,” the mother said. “You were so closed off and reserved after that. And...at the hospital, (Y/n)’s parents fought with all of us, but (Y/n) intervened before things got worse. The fight had let you to hate adults, and that was right after an accident. You were burdened wit trauma and distress, and I only had myself to blame.”

“Soon after, you all never remembered (Y/n). But you all grew up with the unrealizing trauma that had been locked in your mind. It’s like...you grew up differently because of the trauma, but you never knew about the trauma. But you did see things differently after without realizing it,” the ginger said, perking the interest of her son.

“You had grown to love frogs because both of you were stuck Leah’s house, way before she moved in. There was an injured frog and the both of you brought it to her grandfather. Those were one of the little things that you had forgotten, because you had sealed all your memories of her unconsciously,” Robin explained, as her son looked at the wooden counter, taking in all the information.

“Then....if I said I liked Abby...” he began, slightly cringing at his question. “You had replaced (Y/n) with Abby in your mind, since she was closest to her. But you never have forgotten her now, have you?” she asked her son.

Evening rolled by and Sebastian stepped out of his house at 6:30 like he did everyday. And as he promised, he was waiting for (Y/n) by the lake. He thought about the words he was going to say to her and the questions he was going to ask when she got here.

“Now that she’s here, what do I do?” he asked his mother, making her chuckle. ”Do you still like her?”

‘Where is she?’ he thought. If she was anything like when she was younger, she would always be on time. She was never late for a promise, but if she had inevitable matters then it wouldn’t hurt to wait a few moments, right?

Sebastian nodded slightly with a burning red face. His eyes looking down at the wooden counter to avert from coming in contact with his mom’s bright green own. But the chuckle that escaped his mother’s lips only shamed him further.

After taking out a cigarette from the box, he proceeded to fish his lighter. But when he got that out, he saw the slow movements of (h/c) crawling out of the mines.

“I’m not sure if...she knew what happened during that timeline, but if she doesn’t, don’t pressure her to remember, alright?”

Sebastian’s lighter fell out of his hand, dropping straight into the lake. His dark eyes raised to look at the figure trudging out of the dark caverns.

“But if you’re sure it won’t hurt her,”

It was a girl with messy and disheveled (h/c)-hair, trailing down her (b/p). Her (s/c) face had reverted to a pale shade and her (e/c) eyes were quite dull and exhausted, as if she were to pass out any second. But what pulled his attention the most...

“Tell her how you truly feel, Sebby!”

Was the huge triple-gash that had scrapped itself on her right side, blood dripping heavily from the wound.

“(Y/N)!!!”

The dark-haired male ran over to the said female, catching her in his arms before she could collapse forward. He pulled her back so that she was leaning on his arm on her back.

She had passed out cold, scratches he didn’t see earlier revealed to be littering her face without any mercy. There was a larger one beneath her eye. He had no time for this. The amount of blood she was bleeding was immense. And he had to do something about it before sending her to Harvey,

Or it’ll be too late...

He had no time for pessimistic thoughts. She was going to survive. She was going to LIVE! He had to think fast. He placed her on the ground carefully before taking off his hoodie, thanking Yoba he was wearing a white shirt beneath. He wrapped the dark-colored material around the unconscious girl’s abdomen, tying the arms of the shirt on the opposite area of the injury.

Sebastian hoisted (Y/n) once more in his arms, resting her head on his right arm to avoid the injury colliding with his abdomen as he lifted her. Feeling her on his bare skin, he realized how cold she was. Did she go into the colder parts of the mines in this thin shirt? Without proper warming, her movement must’ve slowed incredibly if she was able to get such injuries.

He knew he had no time to run down to Harvey’s. He wasn’t even sure if the doctor was even in the house! He had to settle for the second best option, as much as he hated it. Sebastian grit his teeth before running back to his house.

He knocked on the door, since his hands were occupied with the girl in his hold. Luckily his mother hadn’t stepped out of the house yet since she needed to clean up somethings before she headed out. 

Hearing the knock, Robin opened the door, green eyes wide with fright at the figure her son was holding. “Is Maru home?” Sebastian huffed out as he stepped into the wooden building.

“No, but she should be on her way home,” Robin said rushing right behind him. “I’ll go get her and Harvey, you bring her to your room,” the ginger said before she left to find her daughter.

“Damnit, (Y/n)! Why must you always be so darn injured?!” he huffed at the unconscious girl. He placed her on his soft mattress and held her soft but cold right hand.

“I won’t let you go this time,” Sebastian promised, taking off her backpack to let her be more comfortable. He placed it next to his table, grabbing his chair and sat right next to the girl, tightening the shirt around her before taking her slim hand back into his.

“Please, please just hang in there. They’ll be here anytime soon...” he whispered, drawing circles onto the back on her hand using his thumb. As if on cue, the door burst open and thundering of feet was heard before the door to his room was thrown open.

There, stood Maru and Harvey, quite out of breath from running, and behind them was a panicking Robin. 

“Maru...” Sebastian whispered, feeling relieved for the first time to see his sister. But his sister’s expression turned into horror as she and Harvey ran down to the pale girl.

Harvey took one look at (Y/n) before nodding to Maru.

“We need to perform an emergency surgery on her.”

[sopewriters]

Mιɳԃ Gαɱҽʂ | 01

Summary: With a murderer prowling the streets, and a charming villain on the loose, all bets are off.

Pairing: Jaehhyun X Reader; Hero x Villain AU

Word Count: 4.9K

Warning(s): None yet.

“Run the tape again.”

The screen flickers dimly, lighting up your gaunt features. Every part of you screams of exhaustion, as it should – you’ve hardly gotten any sleep all night. Your fingers tap against the desk in front of you, restless, and it takes everything in you not to bounce your leg.

The man beside you – your partner – looks at your tense jaw, pursed lips, and frowns. “You can take a break for tonight, you know. I doubt they’ll come back so soon.”

“But you don’t know that.” You correct harshly, making him recoil. Guilt stabs at you, and you sigh. “Sorry, I… I’m sorry Mark, I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

Mark smiles at you, and you only now notice the pallor of his cheeks, the shadows under his eyes. Your partner hasn’t gotten anymore sleep than you have. With a large, cracking yawn that could probably split a lesser man’s face open, you shake your head.

The protest – or lack, thereof – building on Mark’s lips immediately dies, and he exhales heavily.

“This guy is unreal.” He comments, dropping back into his seat beside you. “How does he avoid the cameras so well? They were even set up so no one would be able to dodge them – is this his Gift, do you think?”

You cast a wry glance at him, then. “No, Mark, we both know for a fact that his Gift isn’t invisibility. Remember the one time he made some sort of illusion to throw the cops off his trail?”

“Ah, right.” Something like awe passes quickly over his face, though he’s careful to school his expression at your chiding glance. “I forgot.”

“Funny, you were gushing about how wicked Joker was for weeks.” You nudge him lightly, a tiny grin on your lips – probably for the first time tonight. “It was cute.”

His cheeks immediately flush – adorable – and you wish there were better lighting so you could see them better.

Unfortunately, being a superpowered vigilante can really cast a wrench in your budget. Not everyone can be a millionaire-cum-superhero, no matter how much they’d love to be. And balancing the criminal nightlife with your actual life… well. University has always been particularly unforgiving.

“______…” He grouses, burying his face in his palms as you laugh. “Why’re you always so mean to me?”

“You just make it really easy.”

“ ______!”

“What? Am I wrong?”

Mark huffs out a breath, pushing away from the desk and standing up to flick on the light. “I’m not even gonna bother. I know you aren’t going to drop it!”

“You’re – oh my fucking god, turn the lights back off!” The measly light you do have is still blinding, making your head almost ache from how bright they are. “Mark!”

“Oh, how the tables have turned.” He laughs, dodging one of your well-timed swipes. “Alright, I’m going to jet before you actually manage to hit me again. Please try and get some rest? We’ll go over this again tomorrow.”

He looks at you imploringly.

You laugh fakely. “Oh, yeah, of course!”

Mark sighs, resigned, and gives you a waning smile as he moves to leave. He pauses, briefly. “We should really find a new HQ.”

You look around at your converted closet, thinking he’s not wrong. But, again, life isn’t quite like the movies and you don’t really have the money to spare on much beyond your daily necessities. Frozen food isn’t quite as cheap as it used to be around these parts. If anything, you’re lucky you have a walk-in closet large enough to accommodate a small desk, especially in your dorm.

Going to an expensive college in a rich part of town does have some benefits even if, tuition aside, you’re financially on your own.

“We’ll see,” you mumble tiredly, head thumping softly against said desk. “You know how tight our budget is.”

“Yeah, I do.” Mark looks apologetic, giving you a quick wave before he’s stepping out, likely heading back to his own room.

Now that he’s gone, though, your place is entirely too quiet, and it really puts you on edge. At least Mark turned the light on, earlier – you might as well credit him for that – so it’s not as creepy as it could be. But still.

You turn back to the monitor, mouth pursing into a frown as you watch the slight flicker of shadows – the criminal’s only trail. Something about this guy doesn’t seem all that right, and it’s seriously making you paranoid. You’ve never interacted with him, though – that, as it seems, only really happens to the licensed superheroes in your sector – but there’s just something about him…

You turn off the monitor with a sigh, wondering why on earth you’ve stupidly chosen to deal with this guy, of all people. You ignore the little niggling in the back of your mind that tells you that you’re really just trying to put off real-life responsibilities by taking unnecessary tasks upon yourself; that’s totally not true, no. What – why would anyone think that?!

You duck your head out of your closet, tentatively stepping out into your actual room. There isn’t much in there; just your bed, a cabinet for your papers and files, and a dresser in which your clothes actually go. Most of the place is just free space, honestly, and you could have your whole hero setup here, but… secrecy is important. And your closet is a lot more private than your room itself, for obvious reasons.

“ ______ !!” The door slams open, and your enraged best friend storms inside.

Case in point.

“Hey, F/N…” You say awkwardly, leaning against your bed so you can look at her fuming face. “Um. Fancy seeing you here?”

“Why aren’t you in bed?” She pinches the bridge of her nose, a frustrated sigh escaping her lips. “It’s almost midnight!”

“Why aren’t you asleep?” You counter, eyes catching onto her mussed hair, puffy eyes. “I was so quiet; how could I possibly have—?”

“Mark.” She says simply, to which you inwardly groan. Of course. Mark “Clumsy” Lee lives up to his name, yet again. “Are you sure you two aren’t dating? He’s been over for whole nights before.”

“What, are girls and guys not allowed to spend the night without dating or screwing around?” You snap defensively. Too defensively, judging by the smirk forming on her face. “No. No, no, no. Whatever bullshit you’re going to spew at me right now, save it, because I sure as hell won’t like it.”

“I’m just saying, denial isn’t just a river in Egypt,” she sings, ducking to narrowly avoid a pillow projectile. “It’s not a big deal! Mark’s super cute.”

“And you can have him.” You mutter in response, shuddering at the thought of dating him. Being in close quarters has really educated you to some of his more… quirky habits, and you couldn’t ever deal with that on a permanent basis. Plus, he’s not really your type.

F/N just rolls her eyes at you. “Whatever, pretend all you want. I know the truth though.”

“Is there something you actually need?” You level her with a flat stare. “Or are you just trying to snoop in on me?”

She smiles guiltily, like the guilty person she is. It might as well be branded on her forehead, G-U-I-L-T-Y, and you really hope she trips over one of her stupid pencils and stumbles down to hell.

What? You can be petty if you want to be, and it’s all in your head anyway. No one will ever know.

“No, there’s nothing important.” She assures you, though you really don’t need her assurance. “I just… worry about you sometimes, you know?”

“Well gee, thanks for making my night a whole lot better with that vote of confidence.” You mutter, sarcastic as ever, though your subsequent words die on your tongue at her sharp look.

“Relax, you know I didn’t mean it like that. I just wanted to know if you were going to go to bed, or if you couldn’t sleep or something.” She shrugs. “I’m being rebellious and staying up past my bedtime.”

Well.

You grin sharply at that. Maybe she can stay in the land of the living for a little longer. You take back everything you thought just a few moments ago. “Oh, have I been waiting for this day.”

So. Staying up last night was possibly the worst decision you’ve ever made. Your eyes feel like they might just pop out of their sockets any moment now and the only thing that could possibly make this better is a good cup of coffee. Or, even better, two.

But life, as always, is cruel.

“I hate you.” You mutter at your coffee pot, squinting angrily at it through stinging eyes. “You had one fucking job.”

Yep. The coffee pot, as fate would have it, has completely broken down – just to deprive you of your life, of course, no big deal. Who even needs to be awake for their 8AM discussion anyway, right?

“Stupid, useless hunk of garbage, I should just melt you down already.” Your fevered death chant follows you all the way to the front door as you sling your backpack over your shoulder. It stops there, though, because you’re too tired to keep it up.

F/N’s lucky she doesn’t have to wake up early today, and you angrily curse her in your head because goodwill? It’s all gone now. Maybe she’ll get a really bad case of the Hiccups. Maybe it’ll be terminal Hiccups.

You cringe at your own deviousness.

You manage to bike all the way to class without perishing which, in your books, deserves a gold star. You don’t know how you’ve done it, but you’ve somehow managed to not get hit by a car, or a bus, or a truck, or another bike, or a pedestrian (though you wouldn’t really mind that last option. People really need to stop looking at their phones while they walk, holy shit). It’s a miracle, truly.

Maybe it’s because you’ve got to attend a Classics discussion; shockingly, it’s one of your more bearable classes. Scratch that, it’s possibly one of your favorites. You might be a STEM major, but the way they discuss mythology in this class really gets to you.

And, of course, there’s your TA too. He’s probably one of the kindest, sweetest people you know – and that’s saying something, given that you know Mark and are even acquainted with Wong Yukhei, the Student Council VP. No, you don’t know how that happened and, frankly, don’t care to find out either.

“Hey there, ______.” You look up at the sound of your name, seeing your TA cock his head at you a little quizzically. “You okay? You seem a little out of breath.”

Yeah, it’s no big, I practically just pulled an all-nighter and biked all the way here using the mothballs that are my eyes, with the level of coffee running through my bloodstream hitting a critical low. It’s fine, it’s totally fine! And if you weren’t the unobservant piece of crap, sweetheart you are, I’d feel a hell of a lot better—

“I’m fine.” You make an effort not to let your gasps for air grow too obvious, giving him a strained smile. “I just, um – just biked here.”

“Ah, I see. You can come inside, you know, sit down.” He holds the door wide open for you, letting you slip inside. “Do you have water? Would you like me to get you some?”

He gives you an appraising look. “Though, something tells me you need something stronger? Coffee, maybe?”

He holds up a thermos, shaking it gently with a questioning look on his face; and, on cue, your mouth begins to water. You need it. You must have it.

“What gave it away?” You chuckle weakly, before shaking your head. “No thanks, Jungwoo, but I appreciate it.”

You last remaining braincells cry, extremely sorry for your loss.

Jungwoo sighs, “I don’t mind sharing, ______, trust me. I promise I didn’t poison it or anything, and I won’t give you much – just a tiny cup.”

He pours some out into the cap of his flask, offering it to you. You stare at the beautifully crafted drink of perfection, steam gently curling off it, and wonder if Kim Jungwoo is a god. He must be, with this sort of impeccable timing.

Still, you’d feel a little awkward taking a drink from a TA that you actually don’t know all that well. That… might not be a good idea.

“I’m really fine.” You smile tightly at him. “I promise. Thank you, though.”

But why?! your brain cells demand, and you don’t have a satisfactory answer for them.

“If you’re sure.” He shrugs it off easily, smile never dimming. He’s pretty cute when he smiles – basically, all the time – but he isn’t really your type.

You think back to the crush you used to harbor on Yukhei. Your cheeks burn when you remember that you still find your gaze fixed to his long, slender fingers on more than one occasion – but you can’t help that. He’s just… too much. It’s unfair, really. But yeah, that’s your type. Tall and handsome, and unfair.

Great, and now you’re thinking about Jung Jaehyun.

You settle back into your desk and will your blush away as you begin pulling out a notebook and a pencil. You don’t usually take notes during section – not unless you’ve got some big essay coming up that he’d review in class – but it gives you something to do instead of just sitting idle.

You quickly sneak a peek at Jungwoo and, seeing that he’s preoccupied leafing through some of his notes, play a game of Catch the Pen. You locate the nearest shadow and guide your pencil through it, propelling it with enough of a velocity for it to hurtle out of another shadow to nestle comfortably between your fingers. It’s basically like playing catch with yourself.

And yeah, it got boring after the third or fourth time, but your only other option is using your phone, which – hey, not a bad idea. A quick scroll through your social media has you holding back your coos when you see videos of cute puppies attempting to do even cuter things. God, do you love dogs.

It’s only when Jungwoo raps his fist against his desk – a cue for all of you to start paying attention – that you notice that the empty desks from before have all been filled up. You quickly stash your phone in your back pocket, before leaning forward on your desk, settling your cheek in the palm of your hand as you force yourself to pay attention.

Ah, damn it. Your eyes still sting.

“Good morning guys!” Jungwoo beams at you, entirely too cheery for your tastes, given that it’s eight in the fucking morning. “How were your weekends?”

Your mind flashes back to your weekend, and you suppress a wince. Yeah. That was… not a good time, especially for the vigilante Caligo – for you. After getting your ass pummeled by a random guy in a mask – a random guy who you think just might be Joker, thief extraordinaire, and the person who you were watching through the footage last night – you weren’t really having a great time.

Not to mention your purpled cheek, courtesy of a deck to the face. You bruise like a peach and you’re really fucking lucky that F/N has a healing ability and a penchant to not ask difficult questions. She probably thinks you’re getting caught up in some shady business – drugs, maybe? – and honestly, that wouldn’t be too far from the truth, if a little exaggerated.

Jungwoo, luckily, takes the grumbled mutterings from the rest of your class that perfectly encapsulate your weekend experience in stride, beaming excitedly and holding up a faded copy of the translation of Ovid’s The Fall of Icarus. “Well, nothing better than this to turn that around, yeah?”

You hold back a sigh as you flip to the page he’ll inevitably bring up. You’d rather read about Icarus, who the book’s title deceptively alludes to, than the rest of these short stories. But, well. As life would have it—

“Let’s talk about what happened with Theseus and the Minotaur, shall we?”

A part of you is grateful that you’ve managed to survive most of your day, and it’s really only the thought of going to your chem lab that makes you perk up.

Now, don’t be misled; you still hate having to go to lab. The actual practice, in itself, isn’t all that hard, but the fact that you have to do it at all is just so ugh. Frankly, you’re only going because it’s required for your major, because fuck chemistry, and doubly fuck organic chemistry. It’s all just way too stressful.

But, well, back to the main point: lab is only really fun because you get a whole two and a half hours to fully appreciate some A+ eye-candy. Not that you would ever actually want to objectify him that way, but your TA is just so gorgeous that it’s unfair, really. Just a smile from him could have you tripping over your feet and potentially spilling dangerous chemicals all over yourself.

As it is, you’ve managed to survive so far, if only to irritate F/N with your very accurate description of how sharp his jawline is, how his dimple is to die for, how he just looks so dependable and warm and—

“Hey Jaehyun.” You greet him as you wait outside the lab. No one’s really allowed in until your TA – Jaehyun, basically – lets you.

Jung Jaehyun, AKA “God who has literally descended from the Heavens to bless your undeserving soul”, smiles at you and – aw, yeah, there it is. That fucking dimple. Paired with his soft, unassuming smile, and the reassuring warmth of his eyes as they look at you through the soft fringe of his hair—

Deadly. That’s what he is.

“Hey ______, how’s it going?” He greets cheerily, not unlike Jungwoo earlier. The only difference is that it’s actually a humane hour of the day right now; a little past noon as opposed to oh, you know, the crack of dawn. You still hate any and all sunlight, no doubt about it – especially with the night lending itself to your element – but at least you’re somewhat awake now.

Jaehyun fiddles with the keyhole before pushing the door open. Is a lab coat supposed to look this good on a person? You aren’t sure.

“It’s pretty meh.” You offer him a shrug and what you hope is not a dorky smile. “Just stressed, you know.”

“Oh, I figured.” He nods, raising an eyebrow. “Apparently Professor Kim’s being super hard on you guys for this first midterm and, I won’t lie, with her past record…” Jaehyun winces. “Yeah, things might be a little stressful. But you’re capable, and I know you can do it with the right amount of hard work and effort.”

Then, like he hasn’t just sprung an unwarranted pep talk on what’s left of your dreary soul, he disappears behind the door. You stare at it like it’ll give you the answers racing through your mind; what the fuck, how the hell does he know exactly what to say, how the fuck is he always so gorgeous…? etcetera, etcetera.

Immediately, you pull out your phone and text F/N.

 You:

Oh my fucking god, I think Jaehyun and I just had a moment

Not like a Moment but he literally just gave me the best pep talk in my life, 5 stars on yelp

Jaehyun’s my TA btw

 Checking the time, you impatiently rock forward on the balls of your feet, biting at your lips. You figure that, maybe, instead of constantly thinking about how gorgeous Jaehyun is, you should probably also start thinking about the experiment for today. It’s just some simple identification tests, thank goodness, but those could take a long time – especially if you have to share your resources with the rest of the class.

Sharing is caring, they say and they’re wrong. Sharing, in most cases, is essentially just shooting yourself in the foot, and you’ll stand by that until the end of time. You used to share everything – even your heart – after all, and where did that get you?

You shove all of that away, filing it into the mental Untouchable cabinet and locking it up. You’re a busy person now, and you can’t waste time delving into the past. For all your bravado and bluster, though, you just… sometimes feel like you always make the worst decisions for yourself and you’re just tired of having to put yourself through the same things again and again. Like – like clockwork.

The door cracks open, and Jaehyun pokes his head outside. “Huh, that’s weird. No one else is here yet?”

A quick glance around you shows you that no, there really isn’t anyone else here yet. What the fuck? You check your phone, though, and see you still have ten minutes before lab actually begins. Ah, yeah, that makes a lot more sense now.

“You can come in anyway.” Jaehyun grins at you charmingly, and you dimly wonder if he knows the effect he has on people, with how easily he throws that smile around. “Maybe get set up? You can’t start before the rest of your class is here, obviously, but you can still be prepared.”

“Of course!” You beam at him, a little shocked at how easy it is to smile at him. With how things have been going, with both your personal life and – ehem – line of work, this is actually nothing short of a miracle.

Jaehyun really is a great guy and you think to yourself, a little sadly, that whoever gets to date him is a really lucky person. It’s not like you expect for life to work out like a fairytale with you as the persevering royal protagonist who gets the prince she’s only ever dreamed of.

Oh, you wish though. Sometimes, you even wish you had the power to make wishes come true instead of the shadow manipulation that comes so easily to you. When you think about it, you immediately discard the thought; you’re happy with your Gift, though it does get a little tricky navigating its faults.

Faults that Joker took advantage of over the weekend, obviously. You seriously screwed that one up though, to be fair, you kind of had to get home pronto to finish up your biology lab report. Still, a screw up is, ultimately, a screw up. It’s not going to change just because you slapped some excuses onto it.

Your fingers spasm, clenching tightly around your lab notebook and digging into its spiral binding as you remember, all too vividly, what happened over the weekend; the way Joker just slid out of your bindings and smirked at you, lips brushing against your ear as he revealed it was all a lie—

The spiking pain in your hand forces you to let go of your book, allowing it to drop onto the table with a muffled thump. It was all your fault, really, for not realizing that, since Joker had a Gift that allowed him to make illusions, he would obviously take advantage of it to distract you.

You were such a fucking idiot.

“Hey.” Your lab partner slides into the seat beside yours, effectively distracting you from thinking about your Weekend Failure some more. “Please tell me that I’m not the only one who thinks that the data for this lab report was ridiculous.”

“You’re not.” A light smile pulls at your lips and you try to forget about everything else. “It was pretty crazy.”

It’s not until you step out of lab a few hours later, blinking the sun out of your eyes, that you see that F/N’s finally responded to your texts.

 Wifey!! <3:

i’m glad he was so kind to you!

and yeah babe, i think you’d realize i know who Jaehyun is by now

you’ve only mentioned him a billion times

you’re such a puppy

You:

He was really nice man, he made me feel like I could actually do this

I mean idk how long it’ll last but it’s nice of him to even try ;-;

And I think you’d realize I know I’m a puppy by now

You’ve only told me, like, a billion times

 Let it be said that you’re never one to let the opportunity to be petty go to waste.

A week later, you’re sprinting up the street between your favorite Thai place and the café F/N likes to frequent, short puffs of breath escaping your lungs into the cold night air. Your worn sneakers slap against the concrete as you try to find a secluded location for you to change covertly into more appropriate ‘crime-fighting’ clothing, when your frantic gaze lands on a relatively abandoned alleyway.

Key word: ‘relatively’, because there’s really only a cat in there, of course.

“Fuck yeah!” You whisper triumphantly under your breath, stepping into the shadows cast by the nightlights, letting their familiar chill wash over you, twist its way around your waist and seep under your skin, a comfortable, cool pressure—

And you’re out again, a couple of blocks ahead of where you started, and sprint up the street, jumping shadows to the second floor of a building, from where you see figure flying overhead.

You smirk. Right on time.

“Hey! Mind giving me a lift?!” You holler up, and with a flick of his wrist, you’re being lifted off your feet, propelled to the very top of the building. A grin pulls at the corner of your mouth, and you give in as you zip along after the figure ahead, who’s dressed in dark blue. “Thanks G!”

Gravitas – Mark – spares a look at you through his mask as he runs ahead, leaping gracefully over to the next building. “Hey Caligo!”

A grin pulls at the corner of your lips through your own mask, fully visible since it only extends to the bridge of your nose. He wants to play it like that, does he?

“Impressive, but you’ve got nothing on me!” You arch in a graceful backflip over the gap between the buildings, landing steadily on your feet.

Mark chuckles lightly at you, shaking his head when you skip ahead of him through the shadows. Like you aren’t going to wring out every advantage your Gift could possibly give you; there’s no way you’re letting him have the satisfaction of possibly being better than you.

“See anyone we need to beat up?” You slow your pace enough for him to run beside you, not needing to shout to be heard.

Mark’s mask covers his entire face, but you’re pretty sure you know the look he’s got on his face right now; that little dip between his eyebrows and the lightest pout on his lips. He’s really too predictable.

“We aren’t looking for people to beat up.” He corrects you. “We’re looking for people to save.”

You come to a stop so you can face him properly, hands settling on your hips. The seriousness of the situation doesn’t stop you from keeping the playfulness from your voice, though, forced as it might sound.

“Now that’s the mind of a future hero-in-the-making.” You shrug, mouth pursing into a tense smile. “The rest of us don’t really care so much about that, you know.”

Mark falters, nearly tripping over himself even though he’s slowed to a walk. “That isn’t what I was trying to imply, you know that.”

“I know.” You provide him with another half-shrug. “I’m just saying that I’m here to beat people up; you can call it saving people or whatever else satisfies your hero-complex but, at the end of the day, someone’s still getting beat.”

No matter how close the two of you are, this is an age old argument that neither of you have been able to shake off; the constant debate of vigilantism versus heroism. At the end of the day, you’re getting the same things done, so why Mark needs to get so prickly about it is beyond you.

He is training to be a hero – which you’ve grudgingly accepted, despite your misgivings – so that might be it. Unlike you, he’s always interested in those caped fantasies, in saving the day and happy endings. Even he has to admit it; Mark is the definition of a happy fool.

And you? Well, that’d make you the tortured genius – though there’s nothing particularly genius about you. Just tortured.

“At the end of the day, we’re still saving people too.” Mark’s voice is low, brittle. “We’ve talked about this before.”

“And we’ve always ended it the same way.” You force yourself to keep your calm, though you itch to blow up at him. “So what makes this time so different?”

Mark starts forward, about to answer, only to be interrupted by a familiar voice. A very unwelcome voice.

“Hope I’m not interrupting!”

There’s a muffled thump, like someone’s landing on their feet, as you slowly turn around, eyes growing wide behind your mask.

Decked out in a tight-fitting leather bodysuit and a black choker, which delicately circles his neck, he looks at you with dancing, mischievous eyes. The black eye mask that sculpts itself to his face prevents you from being able figure out who the man behind the mask is, but that isn’t your priority right now, because you know who this is, standing in front of you with that cheeky grin.

“Joker.”

Written By: Midnight

The amazing moodboard was done by Sangria! Blessed that I am to have such a perfect wife <3

Next: 02

[salthaven]

Stupid and in Love: Origins, Part Two

Chapter Two: Origins, Part Two

   Nino’s first day of school was okay. He supposes that it could have gone better. On one hand, it sucks that Miss Bustier forced him to sit in the front. But on the other hand, he gets to sit closer to Nette, so that’s rad.

   Plus, he sits alone. So he can chill out and not worry about getting in a desk partner’s space.

   He kind of wishes he had the nerve to ask Nette to sit with him. But she seems happy beside that new girl...Alya, yeah? Yeah. She seems chill. He’s glad Nette made a friend, she needs them.

   The rest of the day went as usual, you know? He got told off for trying to listen to music when class started, he got distracted by seeing Nette for a minute (just a minute, he swears), and, oh yeah, his classmate turned into a supervillain and started rampaging all over Paris.

   Fun times, fun times.

   Okay, no, this is a fever dream or something, right? Nino imagined yesterday, right?

   Wrong.

   It’s all over the news. Every news channel talks about Stoneheart’s rampage from yesterday, covers Ladybug and Chat Noir’s superhero debut, and then panics over the sudden appearance of stone monsters that are as still as statues.

   Nino passes one of them, frozen in place. It’s bizarre. It’s unreal.

   Nino slips through the entrance, then pauses. Turning around, he sees Marinette, who stares at a stone monster with...guilt? Or maybe it’s fear.

   Either way, Nino finds himself walking over to her, slowly moving his hands to tug down his headphones.

   “Nette!” Nino calls out, and she jumps, eyes darting away from the monster.

   “Hey, Nino,” she says, smiling awkwardly. “How are you?”

   He shrugs. “Doing as well as I can. It’s surreal, isn’t it?”

   “More like awesome!” Alya shouts as she races up to the two. She waves her phone frantically. “Guys, I got the best footage of Ladybug yesterday! She was so cool!”

   “Really?” Marinette asks, and the word seems strangled. “But look at all of these Stonehearts. Don’t you think she should have stopped this?”

   Alya brushes off Marinette’s concerns. “Don’t worry, girl, I bet Ladybug will have this fixed before we notice! She’s epic, I’m telling you. I think I’m going to make a blog about her- I could call it the Ladyblog! That has a nice ring, don’t you think?”

   Nino watches how Marinette shrinks in on herself, shrugging. “I, I don’t know. What about Chat Noir? He seems to have a hang of the whole hero thing, maybe you should base the blog on him?”

   Alya shrugs. “I can’t come up with a good name for a Chat Noir themed blog, but good idea!”

   “So you’re like a, uh, Lois Lane?” Nino asks. “Reporting on the heroes, fangirling on the side?”

   Alya shrugs, a smirk growing. “Hey, if it means Chat Noir wants to sweep me off my feet, he can go right ahead.”

   Nino snorts and holds open the door to the school. The girls pass him, and then he says, “So, see a hero for one day and fall for him?”

   “What can I say? I love superheroes.” Alya pockets her phone as she shoves open the locker room’s door. “And if I can’t be a hero, I might as well report on them, you know?”

   “But if you could be a hero, would you?” Marinette asks. Nino blinks, surprised by the urgent tone in Marinette’s voice. Is she...is she okay?

   ‘She’s just stressed,’ Nino reasons with himself. ‘She needs to focus on something, get her mind off of the frozen Stonehearts.’

   “Of course!” Alya doesn’t hesitate, grinning. “I’d be thrilled to fight beside Ladybug and Chat Noir! Imagine that.”

   Marinette tugs on one of her pigtails, a nervous habit of hers that Nino has caught onto. “What about being Ladybug?”

   Alya snorts. “Yeah, right. Like I could replace her.”

   Marinette frowns. “I’m sure you could. She didn’t do that great yesterday.”

   Nino pauses, then sets his textbook back in his locker. Turning to Marinette, he asks, “Nette, why don’t you like Ladybug?”

   “Huh?” She seems startled by the question, and Nino flushes.

   “You just, well, you keep talking about how bad Ladybug was, and that she messed up...do you not like her?”

   Marinette waves her arm frantically, shaking her head. “No! No, I just meant that, uh, she’s just getting so much praise and Chat isn’t but she doesn’t seem to know what she’s doing and I-”

   “Girl,” Alya says calmly, patting Marinette’s shoulder, “it’ll be fine. I know it’s scary, but you need to relax. Ladybug is new, but she’ll figure it out. She’s smart.” Alya winks. “I’ve seen her up close, the girl is clever.”

   Marinette slumps. “If you say so.” She shuts her locker and turns to Nino. “You have everything you need?”

   Nino grabs his textbook, then nods. “Yeah! Let’s go.”

   The walk to class is a bit quiet, but Alya rambles on about how Ladybug’s crazy plan to defeat Stoneheart yesterday. Nino can tell that Alya is trying to help Marinette calm down, but Marinette just seems defeated.

   He hopes that Ladybug and Chat Noir will fix everything, and soon. He hates seeing Nette look so down.

   Stepping into the classroom, Nino is surprised to see a new student. The boy looks, well, he looks annoyed, throwing out a piece of gum as he scolds Chloé.

   “Seriously, you can’t put gum on someone’s seat just because they upset you!” He admonishes. Chloé, for her part, just rolls her eyes.

   “Of course I can, Adrikins. Listen, you haven’t been here before, but you’ll understand. She’s awful!”

   “I doubt anyone deserves that, Chloé,” ‘Adrikins’ responds.

   “Oh what’s she doing now?” Alya asks, glaring at Chloé.

   The blond boy turns to face her, eyes wide. “Are you Marinette?”

   Marinette clears her throat, eyes inquisitive as she steps forward. “I’m Marinette.”

   He smiles awkwardly. “Your seat might be a little...sticky. I tried to remove most of the gum, but I’m not sure if I was able to get all of it.” He huffs, side-eyeing Chloé. “I wouldn’t have had to worry about it if someone had just restrained themselves.”

   Chloé scoffs. “Puh-lease. Adrien, she’s horrible. She deserves it.”

   “Oh, I’m horrible?” Marinette asks, and it’s like a fuse has been lit within her. Suddenly, she’s glaring at Chloé with a venom Nino has never seen in the sweet and timid girl. “Because, last I checked, I’m not the girl who goes around bullying everyone in this class, and kicking kids out of their seats because their precious ‘Adrikins’ is going to sit in the spot in front of them!”

   Nino blinks, surprised that Marinette yelled at Chloé. It was kind of hot, he’s not going to lie.

   Chloé laughs, sitting down in Nette’s old seat. “Oh no, I’m so scared. What are you gonna do, Dupain-Cheng? It’s not like you’ve ever done anything before.”

   Marinette inhales deeply, summoning her courage. Then she speaks calmly. “Move.”

   “What?”

   “Get out of my seat. Move.”

   “Puh-lease. It’s my seat, fair and square!” She smirks. “So you can just shut up and go back to your new seat.”

   Marinette scowls, opening her mouth...and then shuts it. Suddenly, the fight goes out of the bluenette. She backs up, looking down. “I…” the bell rings before Marinette can finish her sentence. She sighs and slips into her seat.

   Nino glares at Chloé before sitting in his spot. Adrien awkwardly sits beside him.

   “I’m sorry,” Adrien says, and Nino can tell that the blond is sincere. “Chloé and I have been friends for as long as I can remember, I didn’t know she was like...this. She’s been my only friend my whole life.”

   Nino cringes. “That’s rough, bro.”

   He shrugs. “I tried to talk to her, but I’m not sure how much Chloé cares. Is she always like this?” He looks afraid of the answer, fidgeting with a silver ring on his finger.

   “Yeah, man, Chloé is the worst.”

   Adrien sighs. “I never knew. Wow, I stink at making friends.”

   “Hey, I’ll be your friend!” Nino smiles, patting Adrien on the back. “So now you have a better record. And I bet Nette and Alya will want to be your friends, after seeing how you scolded Chloé. That was epic, man!”

   “Really?”

“Really.”

Adrien smiles. “I’m glad. Marinette didn’t deserve that.”

He’s right. She didn’t. She doesn’t deserve any of Chloé’s comments or insults. Nobody does.

   Maybe it’s time that Nino starts standing up for himself, too. Like Nette did, even if it was just for a moment…

   The door slams open as Miss Bustier calls Ivan’s name, pulling Nino out of his thoughts. Stoneheart stands in the doorway, growling.

   “Chloooooé,” he drawls out. “Mylèèèèèène.” He walks towards the two girls, grabbing them and stalking out. Nino is vaguely aware of screaming, of footsteps pounding as his classmates race away in fear. He watches Adrien as he darts off, muttering something about hiding, stares at Alya as she pulls out her phone, as she says something about how she needs to record the fight, sees how Marinette darts after the girl with wide eyes and frantic words falling out of her mouth, carrying Alya’s bag with her.

   He jumps up, chasing after Marinette. He can’t let her get hurt!

   He can’t find her. He can’t find her, and she’s going to get hurt and-

   Nino watches as an old man trips and falls over. He rushes over and helps.

   “Are you okay, du- sir?” Nino asks. The man nods, smiling slightly.

   “Yes. Thank you, young man. Are you alright?”

   “Huh?”

   “You seemed to be worried,” the man says, resting on his cane. “Is something the matter?”

   “My friend, Nette,” Nino finds himself saying. “She raced after our friend Alya, and I’m worried Nette will get hurt. I can’t really tell Alya to stop, I just met her, but Nette is one of my first friends and I don’t, I can’t let anything happen to her.” Words. They make sense, right?

   The old man smiles knowingly. “She’s special to you, isn’t she?”

   Nino nods, unsure of what to say.

   The man hums. “Perhaps you should head back to your school. Maybe you will figure out what to do there, yes?”

   Nino shrugs. “I, maybe?”

   “Lockers are a good area to hide, if the monster comes by,” the man advises, and then hobbles off. Then he pauses, and says, “Take good care of your friends, okay? I’m counting on you, Nino.”

   Determination fills him. “I will, du- sir!” He turns to head back to school, then freezes. Turning around, he starts, “Wait, how did you know my-”

   The man is gone.

   Nino shakes it off. Maybe he told the man? But he doesn’t remember mentioning his name. Does it matter?

   Nino heads to the locker room, trying to come up with a plan. Alright, so he lost track of Marinette, there’s a bunch of Stonehearts all over Paris, and he’s supposed to protect Marinette...how?

   Opening his locker, Nino finds an oddly shaped box. Confused, he opens it.

   A turtle shaped thing flies out, and eyes him with a somewhat downcast expression.

   “You must be Nino,” the turtle greets. “Very well. I am Wayzz, your Kwami. We must act quickly, to help out Ladybug and Chat Noir.”

   Suddenly, Nino has a way to protect Nette...and all of Paris, too.

   This’ll be interesting.

[areluctantsblog]

Teacher!Tony wrong number au

All of the great teacher!Tony student!Peter stories out there gave me life an idea. A while back I read @airebellah 's lovely wrong number au and I keep rereading doveslayer's adult supervision on ao3 which has some of the most amazing conversations ever written between Peter and Tony via texts and drunken late night phone calls. And then @starkerforlife6969 and @im-a-goner-foryou has been posting their incredible high school aus this week and my brain - mixing together these amazing inspirations - conjured up a wrong number au where Peter accidentally texts Tony, his physics teacher who he’s seriously crushing on. I hope, dear authors, you don’t mind I tagged you and remixed your works this way. If it’s not okay with any of you, tell me and I’ll take it down.

Without further ado, the story goes like this:

Peter's using a replacement phone and mistypes Ned's number asking for help on a physics problem (just like airebellah wrote it and I’m quoting them in the first few texts).

 Insert Peter being mortified and panicked, barely resisting tossing the phone across the room without replying, but then he remembers having broken his own earlier. And he is polite. So, he texts back and hopes that'll be that.

But it isn’t.

At first, the idea that it might be his teacher doesn’t even cross Peter’s mind, he’s too busy being embarrassed. Then he stares at the screen, unable to move. His homework is due in two days. It can’t be him. There is literally no way that Tony Stark's number is one digit away from his best friend's. And there are hundreds of physics teachers in the country, maybe thousands. Some are bound to be giving out assignments from the same book.

When Tony asks if he’s one of his though, Peter can’t in all honesty say that he isn’t, because what if, and then it would be a lie for more than one reason...

He feels lightheaded and has no idea what to say. He wants to put the phone away and pretend the conversation never happened and at the same time he’s dying to go on. 

Peter has difficulty falling asleep. The next day, he tells all about what happened to Ned. His friend doesn't think it was Tony.

“I mean he's funny and sounds cool, but there must be some other cool teachers out there.”

“I don't even know if I want them to be him,” Peter muses. Then he groans. “God, no. Ned, I'm such a loser.”

With Ned’s continued reassurances that it’s okay to feel how he feels and be how he is, Peter's mood slowly evens out over the next couple of days, but he still fantasises a lot about the stranger and about texting with the real Tony as he’s started to think about him since the incident.

Sunday evening, while Peter's busy building the Lego Death Star with Ned, his phone buzzes on the desk. He's confused, because both people who know the replacement phone's number are there in the apartment. Except for the stranger he texted, but... Peter stumbles in his hurry to get his phone. 

The text is from that number. Except...

... it’s not a stranger.

Peter stares. Ned doesn’t notice something is off until Peter starts hyperventilating. All Peter manages to choke out in response to his friend’s worried questions is

“It's him.”

It is a few minutes before Ned catches up concerned as he is about Peter. He steers his friend towards the bed and pushes him down gently, taking deliberately deep breaths all along to help him calm down.

“What’s going on?” Ned asks once Peter’s breathing has returned to normal.

“It's him, it's Mr Stark.” Peter shows his phone to his friend. “He sent this. Ned, help me, what do I do?”

Ned’s jaw drops. “Holy fuck, it’s really him,” he squeals.

“I’m gonna die,” Peter groans.

“Look, he texted you. It’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Ned reasons.

“I don’t know. What does that mean?”

“I don't know, man,” Ned admits. “Maybe he wants to talk to you. Do you want to talk to him?”

“I... I...” for all the time Peter spent thinking about ways to get close to his teacher, presented with the opportunity, he's panicked. “It seems so unreal”.

“Yeah, I know, but it's real. There is no way it's not him.”

“And he knows about the daddy thing,” Peter moans, feeling humiliation wash over him.

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry, man it all my fault for pushing that silly joke,” Ned say guiltily. “But look, he texted you despite that and if it comes up you can tell him the truth. I’ll take the blame.”

“Oh, god, Ned... I really, really like him. And he doesn't seem angry with me... Well except for my messy homework.” His chuckle becomes somehow hysterical.

“Shall I go now and leave you to talk to him?”

Peter is blushing a deep red. He's never felt so vulnerable, nor so excited. As he glances at Ned his eyes are pleading, but he can't fight off the giddy grin spreading across his face.

“If it counts for anything, I think you really want to talk to him,” Ned says with a reassuring smile.

“I think I do, too,” Peter whispers, feeling something hot settle at the pit of his stomach.

Ned nods and goes to grab is coat.

“Call me if you want to talk. Anytime. I'm with you in this.”

Peter's answer is to hug his best friend. When they separate Ned’s face shows pure disbelief again. “I can't believe this is actually happening. You are one lucky bastard, Peter Parker,” he huffs, shaking his head.

“You’re the best, Ned,” Peter says before he closes the door. He knocks on May's door and lets her know Ned left then scrambles back to his room.

He takes out his phone with shaking hands. As he stares at the text, he feels excitement course through his veins. Even though he has no idea what to say yet, he knows he should aim for witty and confident. The reply comes to him suddenly after a few minutes. He sends it before he can change his mind, then throws himself down on the bed and buries his face in his pillow to muffle his squeal. When his phone buzzes almost immediately with Tony’s answers, Peter sags with relief.

Aaand that’s it. Could be the beginning of a traditional starker fic recipe the remaining ingredients being witty flirting, late night phone calls, awkward classroom eyefucking, guilt trips, several desperate and failed attempts to stop, illicit affair and eventual happy ending after Peter’s graduation, with the special spice of Ned Leeds being the best friend in the whole wide world. Despite the hint at it, there wouldn’t be any real daddy kink, because I’m not into that. But if you like it, feel free to imagine :)  Also, feel free to continue, I don’t think I’m up to it at the moment.

Update 22-01-2019: I continued this story, you can find part 2 and part 3 already posted :) have fun

08-02-2019: Part4 is here and Part5 is coming soon ;)

10-02-2019: Part5

[glaivenoct]

Swept Away

Relationship: Nyxnoct Rating: T Words: 2,124 Summary: Nyx plans something special for Noct on his birthday. Something better than sitting through meetings

Also over on (ao3). Please, pretty please consider to stop by a drop a comment or maybe give this a reblog if you enjoy? I appreciate it and would love to hear your thoughts :) (I’m not late, Noct’s birthday is all weekend what are you talking about)

-

“Where do you think you’re going, birthday boy?”

Noctis nearly drops the notebook in his hands when he collides into Nyx, who he swear appeared out of thin air. Nyx, with quick, heroic reflexes, steadies him before he can stumble backwards in his startlement. A soft gasp and Noctis is tugged close so they’re inches apart, looking up into the suave, steel blue of the glaive’s eyes. The subtle curve of Nyx’s lips is far more captivating than Noctis could have prepared himself for, and it has his own parting in love-struck awe like a bad romcom cliche.

“Nyx, what the hell?” is all he can think to say in reaction. There’s a blush waiting to shoot from his neck to his ears, but he stops it short with a meager glare, forcing a little distance between them.

“Sorry.” Nyx leans close like he wants to kiss him but waits for some sort of permission. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Noctis glances over his shoulder and past Nyx for any crownsguard or citadel staff. You can never be too sure in these long corridors. When he’s sure the coast is clear, he turns his head just enough to give Nyx the okay and gets a kiss on the cheek. “You know where I’m going, hero.”

“That I do, and I’ve decided you’re not going.”

“You can’t do that.” Noctis snorts, prepared to step around Nyx and be on his way, but his path is blocked.

“Oh, but I can! What kind of lover would I be if I let my little king work on his birthday?”

“We went over this. I have a meeting.”

“Right. With me. Pretty sure it was supposed to go a little something like this.”

Noctis has nowhere near enough self control to stop Nyx from capturing his lips in a leisurely kiss. To not melt into the brief touch of fingers propping beneath his chin to tilt his head back to deepen it. To fight the urge of jumping right into his arms and respond accordingly to the tease of tongue and the graze and nip of teeth. Noct doesn’t even care that anyone could turn the corner at any given moment and see them.

He should care, though. He really should. He has a meeting, damnit.

But he still has to stop himself from whining when Nyx finally parts from him. Noct stares at him like the unreal man he swears he is sometimes, breath almost catching in his chest.

“There might be a few more finer details to go over.” Nyx says with the cock of his brows and a suggestive grin. “Y’know, in private. Where I can take my time.”

Noct resists the shiver fluttering through his spine at the insinuation. Straightens himself and clears his throat, ducks his head to stare at the notes scribbled on the open page of his notebook.

“We were supposed to do all that tomorrow…”

“And we will. But it’s your birthday, and you’re crazy if you think I’m letting you sit through meetings all day.”

Believe it or not, Noctis is a firm believer in not working on one’s birthday.

He recalls being six years old and all but demanding that his father’s birthday be declared as the king’s “Do Not Disturb” day. Being not much older and pleading with Cor and Clarus to take a day off for once, that he would look out for his dad just fine so they didn’t have to worry about a thing! The “As your Prince, I command you” line worked well enough on Ignis as they grew up together, and Prompto in high school. While he saved the more sarcastic reasonings for Gladio, claiming with a grin that he was only looking to get out of training.

There was less control when it came to Nyx. Noctis knows there were years where Nyx spent his birthday behind enemy lines, treated to makeshift dinners and celebrations around the campfire of their secret headquarters. Though it’s been years since such a thing happened, there was always the possibility. But if Noctis could help it, none of his loved ones were allowed to work on their birthday.

Noctis isn’t excited about the idea of spending his birthday stuck in meetings either. At the same time, he brought this on himself and felt obligated to face the consequences of his organizational blunders. He’s usually better than this. Or so he likes to believe, but he really should’ve looked at a calendar when he said “Yeah, Friday works.”

Rooted somewhere beneath that overwhelming sense of obligation, Noctis knows no one would dare to question him for rescheduling. He was the Prince and it was his birthday. How could anyone say no to that? They wouldn’t. And that was just it. Despite it all, Noctis takes his charity work seriously. Knows that the people he’s meant to meet with have been eager to brainstorm with him for a special project that’s been in the works months now. Prince or not, it didn’t feel right to delay the progress of the project out of his own selfishness. 

Plans with Nyx and his father and friends were set up for the weekend. He could tough it out this one day. It’s not like they were council meetings.

“Nyx, I have to be there…” Noctis insists, though the hesitance and indecision is clear in face and tone.

“No, you don’t.” Nyx insists with far more confidence and a smile that hypnotizes Noctis further to the thought of resignation. “Because Ignis agreed to take care of it in your place. Already has copies of your notes and everything. Said he’ll fill you in on everything later and schedule another day you can meet with them yourself.”

“But -”  

“He also said no buts. So did your dad. And me.”

“But -”

“Nope!” Nyx slaps his hand over Noct’s mouth, muffling an outraged yelp. “None of that. Don’t make me kiss you.” Noct narrows his eyes and huffs against the warm fingers, tempted to bite them out of spite. Nyx laughs as his hand is pushed away instead. “We’ll still do everything we planned to do tomorrow, Noct. But I wanted to do something special for you today too.”

“Special?” Noct tries not to sound too curious. 

“Well, I hope it’s special. What do you say, little king?” Nyx offers a hand to him. “Let me sweep you away?”

There’s not another dimension or universe in which Noctis has the heart to refuse such gesture. A dashing smile sprouts across Nyx’s face, accenting the hopeful kindness in his eyes and making Noct’s heart buzz. Nyx was like his emboldened knight, stealing him away from the confines of his responsibilities within the citadel. Off to their own fantasy land where the only thing Noct cares about is the press of his lips, the caress of his fingers, the scratch of his beard, and the dopey things Nyx says to make him laugh.

There’s not much else Noct could want on his birthday. He doesn’t need anything grand. Nyx being this adamant about it is already special enough for him. Meeting’s and guilt be damned. It’s his birthday! He bursts into a smile as he allows Nyx to take his hand and squeeze it.

“Everything’s taken care of?”

“Everything’s taken care of.”

“Then lead the way, hero.”

Nyx leads him with all the thrill of fugitive lovers on the run. Off to the sanctuary of his small apartment tucked discreetly into the city’s lower districts. He doesn’t let go of his prince’s hand until they reach the door, and each second he spends fishing for his keys and fiddling with the lock feels like an eternity to Noctis. It has him eagerly shifting his weight from foot to foot.

The first thing Noct notices when the door opens is the smell. Something that reminds him of the crisp morning air of a forest after rain with the faintest hint of syllelblossoms. There’s an incandescent flicker cutting through the abnormal darkness inside, and Noctis looks at Nyx curiously, waiting for an explanation. It’s all in the step Nyx takes out of the doorway and the gesture for him to enter first. 

Noctis only hesitates because he’s unsure if he’s prepared to face whatever sweet thought and effort Nyx’s clearly put in to this.

One step past the threshold and Noctis stills in that spot, taken aback at the pathway of tea light candles before him, paving the short route to Nyx’s bed. The two windows in the apartment have been covered up to minimize the amount of sunlight peering in. Ahead are spare sheets and blankets draped and hung strategically above the bed, enveloping it like a tent with a perpetually open flap. Old, white holiday lights Noct recalls bringing for the winter holidays are strung inside, turning the area into a cozy, golden cove. A blanket fort, he should say. A cozy, golden cove of a blanket fort. Noctis blinks, lets out a stunned huff and drops his notebook.

Meetings are the farthest thing from his mind now.

“I’ve got three movies picked out.” Nyx says just as Noct notices his armchair pushed aside near one end of the bed. On it rests the small TV that’s normally mounted on the wall. “They’re all ones you’ve mentioned wanting to see. Got all your favorite snacks too. Don’t tell Ignis.”

Noctis can confirm for himself that Ignis would not approve as soon as he spots the small table near the other end of the bed, covered in an array of junk food and sweets that have his stomach ready to grumble any minute now. 

Down the flickering path of soft candlelight Noct goes. He hears the door shut and Nyx following quietly behind him. The closer he gets to the bed, the wider he finds himself smiling, and the more he notices the plethora of pillows and fuzzy blankets stuffed inside. It’s more than Nyx has ever owned and Noctis soon recognizes that most of them have been hijacked from his own apartment. He moves one of the flaps aside to peek in further, noticing a folded article of grey clothing. A knit sweater. He picks it up and presents it to Nyx with the rise of one brow.

“Your favorite, right?” He asks. “Can’t give you a movie night without something to get comfy in.”

It’s one of Nyx’s sweaters. Noct’s favorite to steal and snuggle in after a shower or enduring the cold of winter and rainy days. Set out for him like a warmhearted invitation. Noctis could’ve tackled him then and there, pinned him to the ground and kissed every dose of gratitude into Nyx’s lips before the rush of it threatened to make his own heart implode.

“Nyx…” Noctis starts without quite knowing what else to say beyond it.

“I know, I know. Crowe said it was dopey. After she helped me set it up, but it’s still better than sitting in a meeting. Right?”

“Way better.” Noct rises on the tips of his toes to gift the start of many grateful kisses. “It’s perfect. Thanks for sweeping me away on my birthday.”

“Allow me to sweep you into bed next.” Nyx smirks and grabs him a sudden bear hug to topple into their blanket fort together. Noct’s stifled yelp turns into a string of giggles once he feels Nyx’s hands at his waist, encouraging the removal of his current shirt in favor of the sweater. 

In their own time, they settle down. After Noctis is comfortably down to the sweater, his boxers and socks. After Nyx finds the self control to pull away from his kisses to wheel the snacks closer and move the armchair with the TV accordingly. After they’ve worked through Noct’s indecisiveness on what he wants to watch first, and Nyx teases him for already knowing he’d end up picking sci-fi. After they’ve picked the snacks they’re craving most.

They meld together in their cozy fort, Noct’s back to Nyx’s chest, an arm slung around his waist and legs sloppily intertwined. Noct doesn’t care to move from the position throughout the entirety of the first movie, only wriggling every now and again throughout the second to stretch. Halfway through the third, when he’s struggling to keep his eyes open, he finally moves. Turns around completely so he can tuck his face into Nyx’s chest and escape the bright light from the TV.

Both arms come around him this time in another squeezing hug. Noctis smiles drowsily into Nyx’s shirt and feels a kiss atop his hair, drifting off to sleep on the thought of this being a birthday well spent. The best part being that it’s just the beginning. 

[ghostbustermelanieking]

phantom weights chapter four

one, two, three

season 11, post my struggle iv. part of my series that i write as i rewatch the x files.

Summary: In the wake of their second encounter, Mulder, Scully, and Jackson reconnect (both by accident and on purpose).

---

Things may have slowed down in Jackson's life, may have seemingly stopped being dangerous, but he still found himself jumpy and paranoid. Still found himself worried about the few people in his life, that they were in danger. He checked the news in and around Farrs Corner every now and then, searching for any crimes popping up near or around where Mulder and Scully lived—they were definitely great for money and things like that, no matter how awkward his encounters with them were, but usefulness wasn't worth getting them or the kid killed. He kept an eye on the nationwide news, looking for any activity similar to the activity of the assassins they'd sent after him, or activity of kids like him. (He'd thought about the little grave in San Diego a lot, the little girl named Emily, wondering if he had more siblings out there like her. The idea frankly made him furious, of more kids like him subject to exploitation, more exploitation of Dana.) He got extraordinarily nervous when there was a series of break-ins two buildings down from him, until it was revealed to be a disgruntled handyman. He used fake names a lot when he was out with friends and played it off as a stupid prank, and he was very careful when meeting Sarah, on the rare times that they met.

His relationship with Sarah was messy, messier than it had been before—which seemed unreal, considering what an asshole he had been. Sometimes, she would say she was too busy to meet him with a rushed text, offering excuses about her pissed-off parents and her suspicious little sister. And she seemed pissed off herself when he insisted on trying to hide. "I want a normal boyfriend," she'd say irritably, "not some fucking shadow who spends all his time hiding." And he would have to struggle not to snap at her, to tell her that he had never been normal. He didn't want to hurt her feelings, to hurt her anymore than he already had. (He was still wracked with guilt over the incident on the Chimera, not to mention the fact that he cheated on her and Bri both. He still felt horrible about all of it, and equally horrible about ghosting Brianna, but her parents were even stricter than Sarah's, if that was possible, and he couldn't stay with them both. He felt guilty for even staying with Sarah, after everything, but he felt like he didn't have a choice. She was one of his last links to his old life, and he couldn't let that go. He was terrified of being alone.)

Sarah seemed constantly pissed off at him now, and not just about the aliases. She seemed on edge the few times they talked on the phone; she was dodging his texts, to the point where he stopped calling and texting. He didn't want to be the jerk anymore. He tried to just enjoy the time that he got with her. But he could sense the tremors in their already fragile relationship, could sense what was coming before it happened, almost like shockwaves in an earthquake. When he got a call from her one day in July, her contact photo a picture of the two of them last New Year's making goofy faces into the camera, it sent a wave of dread through him that probably wasn't supposed to accompany a call from your girlfriend.

He answered anyway. "Hey, babe," he said, trying his hardest to sound cheerful. "What's up?"

She was silent on the other end. He could hear her breathing, uncertain and awkward. And then she said, "Jackson, we have to talk."

He leaned forward, his forehead against the wall of his shitty kitchen. It was totally pathetic, but he suddenly wanted to beg her not to do it, tell her that he needed her to keep him grounded. But he didn't say that. He said in that same falsely cheerful voice, "What it is?"

Sarah took a deep breath. "Look, babe, it's…" There was some clattering, a voice on the other end, and then the sound of her yelling: "It's just someone from school, Mom!" Jackson grimaced at the cacophonous sound. "Sorry," Sarah said softly into the phone. "It's just been crazy since the break-in, we're all crammed into a tiny fucking hotel room, and I'm sitting in the fucking bathtub right now…"

His head shot up, nearly hitting the side of the fridge. "Wait-wait-wait," he blurted, waving a hand like he was scrubbing at the air, trying to scrub away the awful words. "There was a break-in? Somebody broke into your house?"

"Yes," said Sarah, annoyed. "Last weekend, some jackass completely ransacked the place…"

"W-why?" he stammered, cold sweat breaking out on his hands. Goddamnit, he'd been so careful, and it still wasn't enough. How the hell could he do this, not take preventative measures to protect Sarah? "What were they looking for, what did they steal?"

"That doesn't matter, Jackson. Listen…"

"Was it someone looking for me? W-were they coming for you, because of…"

"Jesus, Jackson, no! Not everything is about you," she hissed, trying to be quiet and clearly failing. "Look, I think it's time for us to end this, okay? After the break-in, my parents can't afford to send me to Richmond for expensive music lessons anymore, so there's no way for us to see each other, anyway."

He was dumbfounded, speechless, torn between trying to talk her out of it and supporting it simply for her own protection. What if the burglars had been looking for her, what if they'd only stolen things to cover their tracks? He didn't want to lose anyone else, but if he held on, he might really lose her. And he couldn't force her to stay with him if she didn't want to. "Babe…" he began in a soft voice.

"Look, Jackson, this is the right thing to do. We've both felt it coming. Don't try to tell me you haven't, okay? We've been growing apart for months." He could picture her on the other end, sitting in the tub with her socked feet up on the lip, twirling a curl around one finger as she talked. "It's not fair for us to hold each other back, not when there's other people out there. I hope we can still be friends…"

"Babe, did they catch the guy he robbed your apartment?" he asked, because he was still thinking about it. Even after dumping him, they still might come for her.

Sarah sighed with exasperation. "Seriously? We can't even have a mature conversation?"

"This isn't immature, Sarah!" he snapped, finally losing his composure. "They killed my parents, you know they killed my parents! And they could kill you, too, if they think you're my girlfriend."

"Well, I'm not," she said in a sharp voice. "I'm not your girlfriend anymore."

He winced, his head falling forward again. It was for the best, but he couldn't stand it, he couldn't stand it. "Please," he said softly, "please just tell me if they caught the guy, Sarah, please…"

"They didn't, okay?" she said, and she sounded like she was crying. "I'm sorry about your parents, Jackson. I'm sorry about… all of it. But you can't worry about me anymore. I'm not your concern."

He thumped his head against the wall lightly: once, twice. "Okay," he mumbled.

"I'm sorry," she said again. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

"You be careful," he told her, suddenly stern. "Be careful, and be safe, and…"

She hung up abruptly, leaving him sitting alone in the dark and the quiet. He let the phone drop on the tile with a clunk. That was it, he thought. Everything from his old life gone, and maybe for the better. Maybe for the better.

He didn't know if he could have contact with anyone now, get close to anyone. And a new thought was building up in the back of his mind: what if they came for the baby? If the baby was around him… what if they came for the baby? What if they came for all three of them, because of him?

(If the baby turned out to be like him, then there might be no protecting the three of them. But he couldn't let anything happen to them and it be his fault. He couldn't risk it. He didn't know what he could do about it, but he knew he couldn't risk it.)

---

Jackson had it decided by the next morning. He would distance himself from his new friends as much as he possibly could, to protect them. And he'd distance himself from Mulder and Scully. It wouldn't be hard, considering what a distance there was between them already, considering how his last encounter with Scully had gone. He would just have to start dodging their calls and making up excuses, to let them down easy, as hard as that would be.

In theory, he could keep them at arm's length, and tell himself determinedly that they were not his parents (because they weren't), but in practice, it was much harder. He was connected to them in a way he never had been to anyone else, and he could always feel the waves of their emotion when he talked to them: their guilt, their grief, their caring, their earnest hope. It was hard to turn that away. He thought that it might've been easier if they were assholes, but they didn't seem to be assholes. They seemed to genuinely care.

But he knew that he had to start being more careful, for everyone's own safety if nothing else. It was decided the night Sarah dumped him; he had to do this, and so he was going to do it, and do it right. He was going to start first thing the next day.

Within a few days of barely talking to his friends and not talking to his birth parents, though, there was already a hitch in that plan. Jackson's landlord showed up at his door and informed him that the apartment building was being fumigated this week. "We have an infestation of cockroaches on your floor, and we don't know how extensive it is," he said. "Do you have anywhere else to stay this weekend, William?"

Jackson winced automatically when the landlord called him that. It'd been dumb to sign the lease William, both because it was kind of an asshole move towards Mulder and Scully, and because he could barely stand to be called it. (He flinched every time the landlord called him that, to the point where he suggested a nickname. "Do you go by Will? Bill? Billy?" he'd asked, and that'd only made things worse, because it made Jackson think about that blog entry he'd written a while back where he called himself Billy. At the time, he'd done it just to distance himself from one of the stranger episodes in his shitty life, make it feel like it happened to someone else; he'd had no idea his name used to be William.) "Uh, I guess I can find somewhere," he said. "I have to be gone the whole weekend?"

"Just Friday to Sunday," said the landlord. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience. You think you'll be okay with somewhere to stay?"

Jackson rubbed at the back of his neck. "Yeah, I'll be good," he said, which might've been a lie. He couldn't stay with Mulder and Scully for obvious reasons, and he didn't want to risk staying with any of his friends. He could probably get a hotel, albeit a cheap one. "Thanks for letting me know."

---

Jackson had to work several shifts right on top of each other the next couple days, to the point where he actually forgot to book a hotel. By the time he got off at the warehouse, he was ready to just find a hotel room and watch mindless cable for hours. Maybe order a pizza. He was sitting in his car with a hastily packed bag in the backseat, googling cheap hotels, when he got the phone call. It was Scully's cell number, put in his phone as Dana, despite the fact that he only ever called the house phone.

Jackson stared at the phone mutely for a moment, helpless in not knowing what to do. He knew he shouldn't pick up, but he didn't want to alienate them suddenly without any word, as tempting as that was. They'd done a lot of nice things for him. They didn't deserve that. But he couldn't talk to them and give them the expectation that there'd be more, not when he swore he would leave them out of it. For their sake and for the kid's.

The phone lay like a lifeless thing in his hand as it rang, the blank gray square he had instead of a contact photo taunting him. He was ready to hang up, but somehow, he lifted the phone and answered it instead. "Hello?"

"Jackson?" she said on the other end. "Hi, it's Dana."

"I know," he said without thinking, and was surprised to hear her uproarious laugh on the other end. A corner of his mouth turned up unconsciously. "What's up?" he asked quickly, hoping to get the conversation to go along quickly.

"Oh, I just wanted to call and check in," she said. "See how you were doing. We haven't talked in a while."

"I guess we haven't," said Jackson. There was a long, lengthy silence before he added lamely, "I'm all right. I'm… I'm headed to a hotel, I think. My apartment is being fumigated."

"Really? A fumigation? Did they say why?"

"Roaches," he offered.

Scully made a sound of disgust on the other end. "Remind me and I'll tell you someday about a case Mulder and I had with cockroaches," she said. "Have you paid for your hotel yet?"

Taken aback, he said, "Uh, no, not yet." He didn't realize what she was going to suggest until the words left his mouth, and he immediately winced. He should've lied and said he had. He shouldn't have brought up the goddamn fumigation at all.

"Sweetie, there's no point in you getting a hotel… why don't you just come stay with us for the weekend? Do you have work?"

"No." He was beginning to regret taking the phone call. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

"Why don't you come down? There's no point in you spending all that money on a hotel," she said gently.

He was going to say no. He told himself he had to say no. He didn't think he could stand an entire weekend with them, considering the way their past interactions had gone. And he was still afraid that people were still looking for him, that they'd hurt Mulder and Scully and the kid if they found him. He had to say no. He would go to a hotel, like he said he would originally.

But he started thinking about the money. He didn't have an abundance of it in the first place to spend on a hotel and meals. And he was thinking about lunch with Dana, her face when he said that he didn't know they wanted kids. Thinking about the money they'd given him, the furniture. Thinking about what an ass they must see him as, trying to wriggle out of seeing them, spending time with them. He couldn't stay in their lives, but he couldn't cut them off completely. Not without a word.

(If they were in danger, wasn't it better that he know for sure? He could look for signs. And besides, if the kid was anything like him, than they might be in danger already. It might not matter what he did.)

"Jackson?" Scully's voice was gentle, and maybe a little worried, on the other end. "You okay?"

He cleared his throat, thumping his forehead against the steering wheel. "Um, yeah," he said with a sigh. "Yeah, I'll come down."

He was just doing it because he didn't want to sit in a shitty hotel all week. That was it. That was it. That would be the end of it.

---

Mulder had been out at the store when Scully made the phone call to their son, and when he returned, she explained what had happened, that Jackson was heading their way. "Scully, that's great!" he said, seizing her hands in his and squeezing. She managed a wobbly smile of her own, and he recognized her apprehension immediately. "Are you still worried about what happened last time?" he added gently.

"Maybe a little bit," she said softly. "I just don't want things to go badly. I don't want to hurt him again."

"I know." He leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead. "Look at it this way," he said softly. "I don't think he'd agree to come here for the weekend if things were really bad."

She sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder, a hand on her stomach. "Or he's coming so he can get more money out of us," she mumbled. "There's always that."

He shrugged. He rested his chin on the top of her head. "Whatever the reason," he told her gently, "he is coming here. And that's something, no matter what."

She smiled, just a little, her eyes fluttering closed. Their hands were still together between them, his knuckles against her stomach, and he could feel the light, light  movements happening beneath the surface. "How's she doing in there?" he whispered.

She shook her head a little in disapproval, but he could see that she was still smiling. "You don't know it's a she," she told him firmly, but she squeezed his hands again. "Active. Restless. I know it's your child just because she won't relax."

"You say that as if it's a trait she's just inherited from me," he said teasingly, and she looked at him squintingly. He rubbed a hand over her lower back, which was frequently aching nowadays. "You're as bad as I am, honey. This kid is never going to relax."

"Mmm," she said in a soft, sleepy voice. She leaned into him again; he dug his fingers against her back, and she made a small sound of appreciation. "We should get some pizza," she added in a husky voice. "For Jackson."

He smiled. "You're right," he said softly. "We should."

---

Jackson arrived long after dark, the screened door swinging open with his arrival. He scanned the room in a nervous animal sort of manner before landing upon where they were sitting on the couch, Scully asleep on Mulder's shoulder. "Uh, hi," he said with a sheepish sort of smile.

Mulder smiled, too, a broad, involuntary one. He hadn't really realized how much he had missed his son until just now. He had just remembered that he hadn't seen Jackson in person since they helped him move in. "Hey, Jackson," he said softly. "It's good to see you. There's pizza in the oven if you're hungry."

"Thanks," Jackson said with a nervous little laugh. "I, uh, I ate something on the way here, but I'm already hungry again."

Mulder laughed at that. "Help yourself," he said, rubbing a hand over Scully's arm. He was debating whether or not to just wake her up, or to try and move without waking her up.

Jackson walked past them towards the kitchen, freezing a little in his tracks near the couch. "She's okay, right?" he asked, motioning to Scully.

Mulder startled a little, looking down at his wife and then back at their son. "Yeah, s-she's fine," he said quickly. "Sleepy. The pregnancy has been kind of rough on her." He winced a little that; he hadn't meant to mention it.

"I can, uh, imagine," Jackson said quickly, his hands in his pockets. He cleared his throat loudly before continuing to the kitchen.

Mulder cleared his own throat and leaned down, brushing his fingers over Scully's cheek. "Scully," he whispered. The oven door opened and closed. "Jackson's here."

She stirred gingerly, her eyes opening foggily. "Jackson?" she whispered, and he nodded. She sat up with effort, his hand on her back as he helped her, and turned to Jackson as he reentered the room, a droopy slice of pizza in hand. "Hey," she said warmly, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"Hi, Dana." He offered an awkward little wave with the pizza-free hand. "Thank you for offering me a place to stay."

"Of course, sweetie." She rubbed at her eyes sleepily as she got to her feet. "You're always welcome here."

"Do you want anything to drink?" Mulder added, heading for the kitchen himself to get Scully a glass of water. "We've got some soda, some juice… water…"

His eyebrows raised a bit. "Soda would be good," he said with a stifled yawn. "I'm pretty exhausted, actually. Long day. Long drive."

"Do you want us to show you the guest room?" Scully asked gently, with a yawn of her own. "You should make yourself at home."

He shrugged sleepily, opening the fridge and taking out a can of Dr. Pepper. "Yeah, sure. I've gotten into the habit of sleeping on the couch, I need to work on breaking it."

Mulder felt, rather than heard, Scully's intake of breath, and knew she was thinking of him years and years ago. He'd been thinking of that himself. He gave a little laugh and said, "I've been in that habit, kid. Not a bad one to break."

"For sure." He rubbed at the back of his neck, taking a sip of his soda.

Scully cleared her throat, taking the water cup Mulder offered. "The room's upstairs, whenever you're ready," she said, taking a sip, bumping her arm against Mulder's in thanks.

"We can go right now." Jackson retrieved a plate from the cabinet as if he'd been living there for years, piling a couple slices on and grabbing the soda can before turning to them expectantly. It wasn't the healthiest bedtime snack, but Mulder didn't feel as if he had the paternal authority to say anything. (And he knew his eating habits weren't much better anyway.)

Scully led the two of them upstairs, up the book-laden stairs and down the hall. Over his shoulder, Mulder saw Jackson taking everything out in interest, and realized suddenly that he had never been upstairs before. Only in the downstairs. They went past the baby's room, which Jackson glanced at with a hint of apprehension, and into the room they'd been putting together for him.

Scully flipped on the light when they entered, and Daggoo, who had pretty strange habits for a dog and loved to sleep in there, rose from his favorite perch on the bed and yipped excitedly. Jackson grinned.

"Sorry about him," Scully said with an absent wave. "He loves it in here, but you can kick him out if you want."

"No, no, that's cool. I love dogs." Jackson flopped down on the bed and scratched Daggoo's head as he wriggled and whimpered with excitement. "My mom was allergic," he said wistfully, "so we weren't ever able to have a dog."

Scully smiled, too. Mulder offered, "Scully here has always been a big fan of dogs. She actually stole this one."

Scully chuckled low in her throat and shook her head disapprovingly. Jackson looked up in surprise. "Seriously?"

"We were on a case," Scully explained in a deadpan. "I caught a serial killer who worked in an animal shelter. I just fell in love with Daggoo, and the whole place was in disarray. I didn't think we had time to stay in town so I could go through the adoption process."

"That's what she wants you to think," Mulder told Jackson. "Secretly, I think she's just a ruthless dog thief."

He snorted with quiet laughter as Scully elbowed him lightly in the side. Daggoo, perhaps sensing he was the subject of discussion, came over to greet Scully. Jackson began to survey the room, his eyes lingering over the books and movies on the shelf, the little TV adjacent to the bed. To the dresser, where they paused on a floppy stuffed bunny sitting on the dresser. Mulder froze a little when he saw it himself; he recognized that bunny. He hadn't known that they'd still had that bunny. He hadn't known that Scully had put it in here.  

"What's that?" Jackson asked, his voice sounding purposefully light. "Something for the kid?"

Scully took a deep, gentle breath. "Actually, it was yours."

Jackson jolted, just a little, his shoulders tight. "Really?" he said quietly.

"Really," she said. "My mother—your grandmother—she bought it for you. You loved it; you wanted to take it everywhere." She laughed softly, fondly. "You loved to chew on its ears," she added. "You slept with it every night."

Her words hit Mulder square in the chest; he hadn't seen any of that, and it still ached to this day. He had missed out on so much. He'd seen Scully sleep with the rabbit curled under one arm when they were on the run, desperate and grieving, but he had never seen it with their son. And now here it was again, when Jackson was too old for anything like that and clearly didn't have any interest in it. He forced a smile, pretending that his chest wasn't tight with grief.

Jackson was still looking at the blue rabbit, his face unreadable. "That's cool," he said in a husky voice. "Cool bunny." He looked over at them, halfway curious. "W-where does your mom live? Do you see her a lot?"

Scully smiled sadly. "No, unfortunately she passed away a couple years ago."

"Oh. I'm really sorry," he said immediately, solemnly. He looked down at his hands, at Daggoo on the bed, looking between them with interest. Mulder wasn't sure what to do, to say.

"Thank you," Scully said softly, her voice faltering a little. "She… I miss her a lot, but she lived a good life."

Jackson nodded, stiffly. He yawned again, in a purposeful manner, and said, "I, uh, I think I'm going to bed."

"Okay," Mulder said, offering what was meant to be a reassuring shrug. "There's food in the fridge, and the bathroom is at the bottom of the stairs. First door to the left in the downstairs hall."

"We can take Daggoo if you want," Scully offered.

"Nah, he can stay." Jackson reached out to scratch the underside of Daggoo's belly, who panted happily. "The room looks good, by the way," he added. "Really cool." As if he'd known that they fixed it up for him—which, Mulder realized, he probably had.

"We're glad you like it," Scully replied. Her hand was against Mulder's wrist, as if she wanted to take his hand, but didn't want to do so in front of Jackson. "Good night," she added warmly.

"We'll be down the hall if you need us," Mulder added, as if he was a small child who might have nightmares. As if it was a normal night, and they were tucking him into bed, and they'd see him in the morning. (And they would; they would see him in the morning, unless he snuck out during the night for some reason.)

"Okay." Jackson was focused on the dog, semi-wrestling with him. He didn't look up as they exited, but he called up a muted, "Thanks."

Back in their bedroom, Mulder suddenly felt weak, limp and small, and he pulled Scully to him in a fierce hug. Her arms went around him immediately, unable to envelop him completely, but still holding tightly, clutching at the back of his shirt. "Hey," she whispered softly. "You okay?"

He nodded, his throat thick. He had missed out on so much. He had missed out on so much, and here was an opportunity to not miss out on things, but he would still never get that time with William. He had left them, and he had lost so much.

He was saying it before he could really even think about it: "I'm so sorry I left."

Scully shook her head immediately. She let go of him and stepped back, tipping up his chin slightly so he'd meet her eyes. "Mulder," she whispered gently, "you didn't have a choice. It was the only way to save yourself."

They'd fought about this a thousand times, each taking different perspectives and going back and forth on different things, but Mulder was sure in this moment that it was his fault and solely his fault. He tried to apologize again, and Scully shook her head. "Mulder, we have to stop living in the past and digging up these old issues," she said. "What's done is done. We can't do anything about it now." She reached up to touch the side of his face gently. "He's here now," she whispered. "We have a chance to get to know him. It's not exactly starting over, but it is something."

He nodded, his eyes growing wet. He engulfed her in his arms again, kissing the top of her head. "You're right," he said softly. "It's just… hard not to linger over the things I've done wrong. My regrets."

"Believe me, I know." She kissed the underside of his jaw. "It's going to be okay," she told him, and she sounded a little uncertain, but he could feel the reassurance in her voice.

He nodded against the top of her head. He felt the baby kicking and smiled absently. "You think you'll be able to sleep with the kiddo being restless in there?" he joked.

She poked him firmly in the arm. "I do it every night, Mulder." She kissed him softly, giving his elbow a small tug. "C'mon," she said with a yawn, "let's go to bed, okay?"

They climbed into bed together, her curling at his front so he could provide some support for her back. He put his lips to the back of her head, his hand to her belly, and tried to relax. But his mind kept returning to their son, in the bedroom down the hall. Wondering if he was okay, if he had nightmares the way they did. He heard footsteps on the stairs, he heard the bathroom door creak. He hoped that he would still be there when they woke up. He wanted more than anything to get to know his son.

---

Jackson slept until noon on Saturday. Not even on purpose, or as an avoidance tactic; he was exhausted. He hadn't been getting many chances to sleep in until noon lately, what with work and being on the run. He slept like a rock, after admittedly staying up half the night watching cable, and when he woke up to sunlight streaming into the unfamiliar room, he briefly forgot where he was.

He panicked, briefly, kicking at the covers as he instinctively bolted up in bed, but his eyes fell on the blue rabbit on the dresser as they jerked frantically around the room, and that snapped him out of it. He let out a heavy sigh, flopping limply back on the bed.

After a few minutes (and after he realized both what time it was and how hungry it was), it seemed silly to just lie here and pretend he was anywhere else. It's not like he could do that all weekend, hide upstairs and only come out at night like some bastardized vampire. If he was going to do this, and make this the last time, he had to do it right.

So he forced himself out of bed and staggered downstairs, realizing just as he hit the bottom stair that he'd forgotten to pack anything sensible, like a hairbrush or a toothbrush or a change of clothes. Dana was on the couch, a book in hand, but she had looked up when she heard him coming down. "Good morning," she said with a calm sort of pleasantness. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Uh huh," Jackson said, his voice wavering a little bit. His eyes jerked around the room, from the couch to the kitchen table, where Mulder was sitting with a laptop, to the front door, where he had kicked off his sneakers the night before. "I'm, uh, I'm going for a run," he said. He needed to breathe for a moment, needed to clear his head. He went for the door and yanked them on, pulling open the door and blinking in the bright sunlight. He inhale deeply and took off, dust road from the driveway stirred up by his shoes.

The run felt good. His birth parents lived out in the middle of fucking nowhere, and it was the perfect place to just run. He ran harder, harder than he probably should, until his chest ached with the strain of running and he was gasping for air.

Running did clear his head. It gave him time to think. Reminded him what he needed to do, the reason why it was good that Sarah dumped him. People might still be looking for him. People might come for Mulder and Scully and their kid. He'd told himself that he was going to try and last the weekend, but being alone out in the country made him too tense, gave him too much time to get paranoid about all the shitty stuff that could happen. He tensed up every time a car went by.

He was honestly ready to leave just on the basis of it seeming too dangerous for him to be there (and also, honestly, because it was awkward as hell, and he didn't want to be in that house, surrounded by reminders of the childhood he didn't have and the family that wasn't his). But when he got back to the house, he was out of breath and coated in sweat. He felt a little like collapsing on the spot. He thought to himself, vaguely, as he leaned against a pillar on the porch, Okay, so I won't leave this exact second.

When he staggered through the door, he found Mulder and Scully on the couch, watching some movie. It sounded sci-fi esque, with lots of hissing sounds and canned screams coming from the television. Something Jackson might've liked years ago. When Mulder saw him come in, he tossed him a water bottle, damp with condensation from the freezer. "I'm guessing you'll need this," he said.

Jackson caught it, a little stunned and not sure why. "Thanks," he said.

"Don't drink too fast," Dana offered mildly, and it was then that Jackson remembered that she was a doctor. It was the thing he had known about her before he'd known almost anything else: Ginger was a doctor. It'd been strangely comforting as a child, in that dinky little hospital where he'd essentially been kept prisoner as a child; he had lain in bed, curled up under the covers, sucking his thumb like a baby for comfort, and he'd closed his eyes and seen her. Ginger, helping children like him, being kind and caring and everything the doctors there weren't, and he'd thought, She wouldn't do this to me. She'd take care of me for real. She'd get me out of here.

(His own mom had been the one to get him out. He'd been in for six months, and they'd been unable to tell his parents what was even wrong with him. He was scared to tell his parents what the doctors were doing to him; one of the nurses whispered that if he wasn't good and didn't kept things a secret, he might not ever get to go home. When the doctors tried to stop his mom and dad from visiting, that was the final straw. His mom had gotten lawyers and threatened a lawsuit, and gotten him out, and they'd moved to the East Coast, far away from the people who had done this to him. Ginger had never come, no matter how much he hoped she would.)

"Okay," Jackson mumbled, unscrewing the lid and taking several grateful gulps. He flopped down in a chair, exhausted, turning his face vaguely towards the TV. It was some kind of monster movie, incredibly cheesy-looking.

He didn't mean to stay and watch it, but he did. He just did. He didn't move from the chair, and the three of them watched three movies without even thinking about it.

Towards the end of the third movie, Jackson went into the kitchen to retrieve a soda. Almost as soon as he stood up, he was thinking about leaving. Wondering if he was wondering out of time to save them all. Wondering if he was being overly paranoid, jumpy and ridiculous. Wondering about the kid, if it didn't matter what he did because they'd come for the kid if they didn't come for him. Wondering if there was even anyone out there to come for either of them.

On the front of the fridge, there was an ultrasound picture. The same one that was there last night. Beside it, one he hadn't noticed: a younger Mulder and Scully, lying sprawled out on a bed asleep. A baby between them, cradled on Mulder's chest, Scully's hand on his back, fingers in his mouth, wearing a little blue onesie. Him, he realized, and bit his lip. He yanked open the fridge too hard and grabbed a Coke. As the door closed back, he caught a glimpse of the ultrasound all over again. My sibling, he thought involuntarily, and was stunned to feel something at the back of his mind. A little push, a presence.

"Find everything okay?" Scully asked when he re-entered. They were trying so hard to be casual—she was pretending to watch the TV, but she was watching him. He could tell.

"Yeah," he said, clearing his throat awkwardly and flopping back in his chair. It was an impulse, what he said next; he was thinking about the little push he'd felt, and the picture, and the conversation he and Dana had last time, and he just said it. "You guys got any name ideas for the kid?"

They both looked up in surprise, like it was the last thing they expected him to say. On the screen, a werewolf growled ominously.

Mulder was the first to recover. "We don't know," he said. "We've had some ideas, but nothing feels right."

"Do you, uh…" Jackson cleared his throat awkwardly. "Do you know the sex yet?"

"Not yet," said Ginger, and she had a small, absent smile on her face. "Mulder insists it's a girl, though." Mulder shrugged sheepishly.

Jackson swallowed awkwardly. "Well, either way, you can't go wrong with Fox, right?" he joked, trying to keep his voice light.

It worked. Mulder and Scully both burst into laughter at that, Scully laughing so hard he could hardly believe it. "Low blow, kid," Mulder said, wrapping an arm around Scully's shoulders. "Low blow. But thanks for the suggestion."

Jackson gave a little chuckle of his own. He felt a rush of relief, at just not saying something wrong for once. "Or Lily," he offered, speaking before he could think again. "Lily's cool. If you're digging for options."

He didn't know why he said that. He didn't know why he said that, except for that it was the name he and his mother had liked when his parents were trying to adopt when he was eight. His mom had suggested it, and it'd been his favorite option for a girl, insisting on it even after they'd moved onto other names. But he didn't know why he'd said that now. He hadn't thought about having a little sister named Lily in years, and he didn't know why he was suggesting it now. It felt like his parents' name to use, not theirs. But he had said it, for whatever reason.

Mulder and Scully exchanged a look, a loaded look. "That's pretty," Scully offered. "I like it."

"Yeah," Jackson said, flopping back in his chair. He'd intended to make some more name suggestions, more jokes, but he found he couldn't. He popped open his soda, turned his attention back to the TV. "Fox might be the better option, though," he threw out gingerly. They chuckled from behind him, again, but he could barely hear it. He watched the werewolf tear through the woods, claws drawn.

---

After dinner, Jackson retreated out to the porch. He seemed jittery while they ate, which was more than expected, but the speedy retreat still stung a little. Scully bit her lip when the door shut hard behind him; Mulder saw it, even across the table.

"We could go out with him," Mulder offered as they loaded the dishwasher. It was a nice night, not too hot, the sky streaked pink and orange from the setting sun.  

Scully shook her head, her hands buried in soapy water. "I don't want to put pressure on him," she said, which he knew she'd been trying hard not to do all day. "I want to leave him be. We've had time with him today."

He slipped a plate into the bottom drawer, stepped behind her and engulfed her in his arms. He felt the baby moving under his fingers. "I love you," he said into the back of her neck.

She slipped her sudsy hands down to intertwine her fingers with his. "I love you," she whispered, and he squeezed her tight. She rubbed the back of his left hand with her damp thumb. "We're gonna be okay," she said quietly. They'd been saying that a lot since this all ended, but this was possibly the most confident he'd heard her about it. She turned in his arms and kissed him, her wet palms on his cheeks. They stood together in the midst of their kitchen, pressed together before the sink and the sinking sun.

Later, after Scully had gone upstairs to bed, Jackson was still outside. Mulder could hear the creak of the porch swing through the open windows. He'd been planning to have a beer inside, at the table, but in the split second of hearing that swing creak, he changed his mind. He wanted a few minutes alone with his son. And besides, he did usually have a beer outside rather than in, so he had a good excuse if Jackson asked.

(He considered, briefly, taking a beer out for Jackson, but then decided that it would be nothing but a blatant bribe, and probably not a very paternal move. And Scully would be furious, anyway.)

He took his beer bottle and went outside, towards one of the chairs adjacent to the swing. "Mind if I join you?" he asked his son, who shrugged and continued moving the swing with the toe of his ratty tennis shoes. Mulder sunk into a chair, popping the bottle open. He saw Jackson eyeing the beer wistfully, and pretended he didn't notice, taking a long sip. The swing rocked back and forth.

"Nice night," Mulder said after a few moments. He could hear the crickets chirping in the dusk, feel a slight breeze blowing. It was the kind of night he used to love to sit outside with Scully during, the kind of night he hoped he could look forward to for the rest of his life.

"It is," Jackson said softly, pushing off the porch again. He took a deep breath. "I've missed quiet nights like this. When I was little, we used to live on a farm in Wyoming. I don't remember it too well, but I remember I liked it. And I loved going to visit my grandmother."

"Not a lot of quiet nights in Norfolk?"

"Definitely not." He sighed quietly, leaning back on the slatted swing. "It's nice out here," he said quietly.

Mulder watched him in the dimming light. He couldn't help it. Every moment with him felt like a blessing. Scully kept saying that Jackson looked like him, but he couldn't see it. Looking at Jackson, he just saw his own family, his mother and his sister and Scully. It was hard to look away, to not linger over all of the things they had missed out on. He could imagine a multitude of nights like this with his son, instead of acknowledging that this was the first one. But it might not be the last. He took a swig of his beer and sighed himself, looking out over the fields instead of at his son. "We're glad you're here," he said quietly. "Your mother… Dana and I… we're both so glad you're here, and that you're safe." They'd been so close to losing him; he remembered his horror clearly, his grief, when he thought they'd lost him. He chewed at his lower lip, unsure of what to say, but knowing that he couldn't not say it. It was the same reason Scully told him how much she'd missed him and regretted giving him up every time she saw him: he needed him to know.

The swing squeaked abruptly, harshly to a stop. "Right," Jackson said in a strangled voice.

Mulder tipped the bottle up with a clammy palm and looked at his son. His head was dipped forward, his hair hanging in his face. He couldn't read his expression in the dimming light. "Mulder?" he said softly, rubbing at his mouth hard with one hand.

It threw Mulder off; he couldn't remember if his son had ever addressed him directly. It was overwhelming to hear Jackson say his name, as much as he wished he'd said Dad instead. "Yeah?" he replied, biting back the urge to tack son on the end.

"Do you… do you think…" He broke off mid-sentence. "Those people, the ones chasing me… they came after your family, right?"

The question took Mulder aback, but it wasn't necessarily unexpected. He wasn't surprised that Jackson was shaken after his months on the run, after being pursued for months and having his parents murdered and being shot in the goddamn head. He should've expected Jackson to have questions about where this bullshit originated. "I… yes," he said quietly. "They… they were involved with my father. The one who raised me, not the smoker. They made a deal to take my sister when she was eight years old." He bit the inside of his cheek hard; no matter how many years it had been, the memories still hurt. And the hurt was not lessened any by the fact that his son had suffered from similar things, the fact that he looked a little bit like Samantha. "They killed my father," he added. "They came after Scully, and after me…" After you, he added silently.

Jackson was quiet. The swing moved back and forth. "When did they stop?" he whispered.

Mulder didn't have a good answer to that. He'd come so close to losing Jackson, and though he mostly thought that all of this was over, a part of him thought that they would never stop coming. It was one of his greatest fears with the baby, although he would never leave her or lose her for anything in the world. But it'd been months since anything had happened, months since he'd noticed any kind of Syndicate activity. He and Scully were trying their best to believe that it had ended, that they were safe.

He went with the optimistic answer. "I suppose a few months ago," he said. "I don't know exactly… what happened… but I'm inclined to believe this is all over."

He looked at Jackson, who wasn't looking back at him. He had his forehead balanced in his palm, his head still bent forward. "Why do you ask?" Mulder added tentatively, halfway pressing for an answer, and halfway hoping he wouldn't get it. He wanted to know if Jackson was still being pursued, but he was praying that this wasn't the case.

Jackson sighed heavily, and sat up straight. "No reason," he said, and Mulder bit back an exhale of relief. Before he could ask another question, Jackson got to his feet and turned to the door. "I'm going up," he said bluntly, reaching for the handle.

"Oh," Mulder said, a little surprised, but knowing better than to say anything. "Okay. Goodnight, Jackson. Scully and I will be down the hall if you need anything."

It was probably a babyish thing to say to a seventeen-year-old, but if Jackson minded, he didn't let Mulder know. He didn't say anything at all; he just grabbed the screen door and whipped it open. It slammed hard behind him as he went inside.

---

Early the next morning, Jackson left. He slipped out before it got light, while Mulder and Scully and even the dog were still asleep. He didn't want to have to go through the motions of saying goodbye, and he felt as if leaving was the only thing he had left to do. The only right thing to do.

He couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't be around them. He didn't know if these people would ever stop coming.

And besides that, they weren't his family anymore. Once upon a time, they'd raised him and named him and napped with him and given him a little blue stuffed bunny that he carried everywhere, but then they gave him up. They weren't his family, and he couldn't be theirs. He couldn't be a brother to a little baby if he'd only be putting her in danger.

He had to leave. He didn't have a choice.

[nellie-elizabeth]

Queliot Fic: “Overthinking It”

Okay so I wrote this way before yesterday. Obviously. And there are a ton of moments in it that now seem super fucking depressing given the finale, but I was practically done with it and I didn’t just want to scrap it, so I’m posting it here. My very first Queliot fic. Woohoo what a *super duper fun time* to be dipping my toes into this fandom. I’m so devastated that I’ve been shaking for hours and last night after watching the episode I couldn’t fall asleep for hours. So that’s where I’m at.

But hey, good news? This fic has nothing to do with the finale! It has nothing to do with the Monster or a post-possession reunion! It’s something I started working on after seeing episode 3x05, in a made up world where Eliot can’t quite lie to himself about how he’s feeling, and Q is stubborn enough to force the issue. This takes place post 3x06, and so it does include reference to Q’s depression and Benedict’s suicide. I know in the show Q had to run off and find a way to get the key, but here I’m letting him hang out in Fillory for a hot second. Because he deserves it, damn it.

I hope you enjoy... or I hope it distracts you from the pain... or something. Here’s my overly indulgent first attempt at Queliot! I don’t think I quite have the character voices down just yet, and this is largely unedited, but I wanted to share it anyway. Hang in there, guys. We can get through this together.

Cross-Posted to AO3: 

"How did he die?" Eliot asked. He said the words solemnly, without a hint of affectation or pretense, sliding down to sit next to Q on the floor with his back against the wall. The news that Benedict was dead felt like a dull, unreal spot in the center of Eliot's chest. He hadn't really known the mapmaker all that well, if he were being honest, but Benedict had become part of the texture of Fillory for him. He was there, like... well, not like scenery, exactly, but like something static, immutable. He'd never once tried to get to know the man, and he felt an uncomfortable squirm of guilt at the thought.

Quentin stared at the ground between his feet for a long moment, until Eliot leaned over slightly and nudged their shoulders together. "Q?" he asked softly. "What happened?"

"He - uh - the... the key, it sort of - did something to him," Q said. "He... um. He killed himself, El."

"Oh, shit," Eliot said, feeling his throat constrict. The haunted look on Q's face suddenly made a lot more sense. "That's - fuck, that's awful. The key made him do it? How?"

Q shrugged, their shoulders rubbing together a bit as he did so. Eliot may have been imagining it, but he thought Q was using the movement to move just the slightest bit away from him. He tried not to be hurt by the thought, focusing instead on Q's careful, quiet words. "It was, like, a depression key, I guess? When you held it, you'd see this cruel version of yourself, saying all the worst, most hateful things you secretly think about yourself... Poppy said it got to fifty percent of people right away, and they just... killed themselves to escape from the thoughts. Poppy was strong enough to hold on, but I guess Benedict..." he trailed off, his voice fading to a barely audible whisper. He still wouldn't meet Eliot's eyes.

Eliot could feel his heart pounding abnormally fast in his chest, and there was a strange ringing in his ears, but it actually took his mind a moment to catch up with his body's automatic responses of pure terror. "Q," he said, his voice coming out sharper than he'd intended, once the ramifications of Quentin's words had finally sunk in. "Did you touch that fucking thing? Did you?"

Quentin looked up at him, and Eliot didn't need to hear his answer. "Fuck," he said, and without pausing to think about it, he grabbed Quentin and pulled him against his chest, turning them so he could hold Q's face against his shoulder, keeping a firm grip on the back of Q's neck with his hand. "Fuck, are you okay?" he said, alarmed to hear the waver in his own voice as he gripped Q tighter.

"I'm fine," Quentin said, but he had his arms wrapped around Eliot and he was hold him so tight that Eliot could feel their heartbeats pounding together. "I'm okay, I'm... I think I'm okay."

"Don't," Eliot said, and then stopped, trying to calm himself down enough to say what he needed to say. The truth was, the thought of Q hurting himself had him gripped in a terror so profound he felt like he couldn't breathe. "Just, don't, okay?" he said finally, not sure exactly what he meant, not sure if it was the wrong thing to say. He simply didn't think he could manage anything more eloquent under the circumstances.

He felt Quentin let out a shuddering breath and then start to pull back, and it took a truly herculean effort to allow him to move away. But Eliot did, letting Quentin pull back far enough for them to make eye contact. "Eliot," Q said, his voice sad, and quiet, but also calm and strong. "I'm okay. Obviously things aren't... I mean, there's a lot of not so great things in our lives right now, but I'm not in that place. I'm handling my shit."

Eliot gave a brief little nod, and felt his lips twitch as he tried to force himself to smile. He met Q's stare dead-on, and squeezed the hand that was still behind Q's neck. "You come to me, or to Julia, or whoever the hell you want, but you don't go through any of this shit alone. Promise me."

There were other words that Eliot wanted to say, but didn't - I'd die if anything happened to you and please don't leave me and I'm not strong enough to face any of this without you.

"Yeah, okay. I promise," Q said, smiling slightly. "Thank you, El."

"Always," Eliot said, and because he couldn't quite help himself, he leaned forward to place a kiss on Quentin's mouth. He told himself it was fine, that he and Margo kissed like this, just a firm, solid press of dry lips, a declaration of friendship, of devotion, of love, but not like that or anything. Hey, if Eliot was going to spend the rest of his life pretending not to be in love with Quentin Coldwater, he might as well go for broke.

But Quentin didn't exactly stick to the game-plan. For a second, Q allowed the kiss, passive and still under Eliot's touch, but after a moment he shifted, bringing one hand up to slide into Eliot's hair, the other coming to rest over his heart. His lips parted, ever so slightly, and Eliot was simply not a good enough person to resist that, and before he'd given himself permission to do it, he was parting his own lips and pulling Q closer, one arm snaking almost by instinct around Q's waste, as Q deepened the kiss even further, making a soft, contented little sound into Eliot's mouth as he did so.

It felt like the most natural thing in the world. Eliot had always assumed that familiarity would make physical touch boring somehow, but he saw now that fifty years of being with this man hadn't been nearly long enough to get tired of him. Eternity wouldn't be enough time. He recognized the little sounds Q was making, recognized the way Q's hands were moving against the nape of his neck, sliding down to his lower back, and he also knew how to reciprocate, didn't need to plan it - supporting Q's head when he pressed his tongue into his mouth, stroking his thumb along the skin of Q's neck, all of it drawing them closer, all of it feeling so fucking good, a better high than Eliot had ever gotten from an illicit substance. The familiarity was part of the thrill, the knowledge that even though their bodies had technically never done this, (barring one hazy night with Margo), their minds and souls still contained a lifetime of connection. Eliot let his mind go blank, stubbornly refusing to think about what an awful idea this probably was. He felt Q shift the kiss to something sharper, felt just the barest hint of teeth against his lower lip, and let out an involuntary low moan, moving his body forward so they were pressed flush together from head to hips, so he could feel -

And then Q pulled away, taking his hands away from Eliot entirely and shuffling backwards on his knees until they were no longer touching. "No, I - " he said, pulling a hand through his hair in frustrated confusion. "No, sorry, I didn't mean to do that, I'm sorry - " he stood, and was already stumbling backwards a few steps down the hall before Eliot could get to his feet.

"Wait," he said, feeling oddly desperate, like if Q walked away right now he'd never see him again. "Q, wait." And Quentin stopped.

Of course, there was the fact that Eliot had no idea what to actually say. He thought briefly about rushing forward, pushing Q up against the nearest wall and - but no, he couldn't do that. He had to be a fucking responsible adult and not maul his partner - his friend - the person who he had but also hadn't spent fifty years loving. He had to use his words. "Fuck. I didn't... I don't know - " Eliot babbled, and as he walked the last few paces to Q, he reached his hands out automatically, looking to anchor himself the best way he knew how.

Quentin, to his credit, didn't jerk away when Eliot's hands reached out for his shoulders, but Eliot could tell he wanted to. "I'm sorry, Q," Eliot said finally, finding the words to be utterly inadequate.

"It's okay," Q shrugged under Eliot's hands. He had this horrible little smile on his face, one that screamed hopelessness and low self-worth. "I'm sorry too. I mean, you told me you didn't... and I wasn't trying to, um... I guess I just miss you."

And if that didn't make Eliot feel like the biggest asshole in the universe... "I miss you too," he said, mostly to get that miserable, sheepish expression off of Q's face. Not that he didn't mean it, because Gods he meant it. "I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do, Quentin," he said, seriously.

Something sparked in Q's eyes at Eliot's use of his full name, and he tightened his jaw, his throat bobbing before he spoke again. "What do you want to do?" he asked simply.

"Honestly? I want to keep kissing you."

"And after that?" Q said, his tone resolute, although Eliot was sure he'd felt him go tense under the pressure of Eliot's hands on his shoulders.

Eliot waggled his eyebrows a little bit, unable to resist the urge to break the tension, and Q let out an involuntary huff of exasperated amusement, before reaching a hand out to slap Eliot lightly on the arm. "Be serious." But there was a bit of hope in his eyes now, and Eliot didn't know how the hell he was supposed to live with himself if he snuffed that out again.

"I seriously love you, Q. And I'm seriously afraid I'm going to ruin everything." Eliot said. The words were as much a surprise to him as they evidently were to Quentin, whose jaw literally dropped for a moment before he realized and snapped it shut.

"You're un-fucking-believable," Q said finally. His tone was easy enough for Eliot to read, although he was sure he was one of the only people in the world who would be able to - Q sounded a little angry, maybe, but mostly just blank, a frightening sort of nothing that Eliot was all too familiar with from a lifetime spent with this man. It usually meant Q was about to yell at him.

"Q, I'm a mess, okay?" he said quickly, to cut Quentin off. It was important for him to hear this, for him to understand. "And when we were there, in the past, it was different, but here, everything's so complicated, and if I fuck things up and I lose you, I'd never get over it, okay? Can't we just - I don't know, can't we just be - us and not deal with - like - the specifics?"

It sounded pathetic to his own ears, and based on the grim look on Q's face, he was similarly unimpressed. "So what, you're saying you don't want to put a label on it? El, for fuck's sake, we were married, we had a kid - "

"You and Ari were married, Q - "

"Don't give me that crap. You don't want to be with me now, that's fine, but don't fucking pretend like what we had wasn't real. You don't get to take that from me."

Q still looked angry, but there was also a tinge of desperation, of fear, hiding behind his eyes, and Eliot, as if such a thing were possible, felt even worse. "Let's go somewhere we can talk," Eliot said finally, struggling to keep his voice calm. He had no idea what he was doing, but there was one thing he was sure of - he had to fix this. He couldn't stand to see Q hurt, and it was infinitely worse to know he was the cause of it.

He grabbed Quentin's wrist, resisting the overwhelming instinct to take his hand and tangle their fingers together, like they used to do when they'd go on walks to get away from the mosaic for a couple of hours. Q didn't fight him, but he kept his posture stiff as Eliot steered him through the castle and finally into his own bedchambers. Fen was nowhere to be seen, luckily. She was probably attending to running the kingdom along with Margo. Which was maybe what Eliot was supposed to be doing, but... fuck it. This had to be more important right now.

"It was real," Eliot said firmly, as soon as the door was closed and he was facing Q again. "It was fucking real, and I'm not trying to brush it aside, or..."

"But yes you are," Q interrupted, his voice just a touch too loud, a touch too high. "What you said, about... about that not being us when we have a choice... we had a choice, El. Sure, we were stuck in the past, and we were both committed to the quest, but none of that meant we had to fuck each other or raise a family together or be a goddamn couple - we chose that, didn't we?"

Eliot, horrifyingly, felt like he might be about to cry. He stared at Q, his beautiful, brave Q, and he really, really wanted to just say fuck it and go to him and, well, propose on the spot or do something equally insane to prove his devotion and love. But he couldn't do that. He wasn't strong enough for it and at some point Q was going to realize it, or Eliot was going to do something unbelievably cruel and then he'd lose Q entirely.

"We did," he finally said, pushing through a crack in his voice. "We did choose it, and I'm glad we did, it's just..."

"Eliot," Quentin said, stepping closer to him and bringing his hands up to place them on either side of his face. He tilted Eliot's head down so their noses were almost touching. "Do you trust me?"

"Obviously," Eliot said, although the word didn't come out quite as flippant as he'd planned.

"Nothing can fuck us up, El," Q said with conviction.

At this, Eliot pulled away slightly, keeping himself bent slightly towards Q, but creating a distance between them, to ease the temptation to press into him, kiss the words out of his mouth, show him exactly how he felt in the only way he'd ever been any good at. He felt like he might be trembling, which was all sorts of pathetic.

"You say that, but I think you're underestimating what a dick I can be - "

"I'm not," Q said, a hint of humor coloring his otherwise serious tone. "Believe me, I've factored that in. Sit down." He pulled Eliot forwards into the room and maneuvered them so they were sitting on the edge of the bed, facing each other. Q took Eliot's hands in his and looked at him for a long moment, and Eliot, remembering the way he'd looked away from Q in the throne room just days ago, forced himself to hold eye contact. He owed Quentin at least that much.

"Do you remember when we had that threesome with Margo?" Quentin asked casually, and it startled a laugh out of Eliot.

"Uh, yeah, Q, it's a little hard to forget."

"Well, that was a fucked up mistake and it shouldn't have happened," Q said. "Not because of you, although you were obviously in a really bad place at the time... I mean, it shouldn't have happened because... well, I was cheating on Alice, and because we were all under the influence of an emotional overdose and way too much booze... it totally fucked over my relationship with Alice and I still don't think we've recovered from it, if I'm being honest."

Eliot didn't say anything. He wasn't sure what to say, and he honestly had no idea where Q was going with this. After a moment, Quentin took a deep breath and continued. "But you and me? We were fine. We were good friends before that, and we were good friends after that, and we forgave each other without even needing to discuss it. And then, El, two days ago I told you I wanted to be with you, and you rejected me, and we're fine. I mean, yeah, you hurt me, but you didn't lose me because of it. I'm still here, and even if you said right now that you don't want me, it would still be okay. Because we're stronger than that - we're strong enough to live more than fifty years together and still love each other at the end of all of that."

There was another pregnant pause, and Eliot could feel his heart pounding fast again, this time the terror mixed with a dangerous dose of hope and love and all sorts of mushy things he was hardly able to admit even in his own mind. Q continued, a little quieter, after letting the silence stretch and grown between them. "So if we give this thing a shot and it all goes to hell a week from now, it'll suck. But it won't break us, because nothing can.  We can go back to being friends, closer than most. You tell me right now you don't want this, and I'll leave it alone, Eliot. But if you do - "

And then Eliot was kissing him, a little messy, a touch too desperate, lacking the finesse of their earlier kiss, pulling Q forward, practically into his lap. "Yes," he said against Q's lips. "Yes, I do. I really, really, do."

Eliot could feel Q smile, the clack of their teeth together as he moved his mouth away from Eliot's and slid his face down to the crook of his neck and let out a somewhat shaky laugh. "Okay. Good. So you're done being an idiot."

Eliot laughed back. "Not by a mile, sweetheart. But that's okay, that's why I have you." He felt like he might be having an out of body experience, and he was pretty sure the rest of the world wasn't going to let them stay happy for long, but for now, he was allowed to push his hand into Q's hair and he was allowed to nudge Q's face off of his shoulder and connect their lips again. He was allowed to let himself feel this, and that was more than enough at the moment. He wasn't sure he was convinced by Q's reasoning - he'd fucked up so many good things in his life before - but he trusted his - what, boyfriend? That felt weird. Maybe when managed to tear his lips away from Quentin's neck, he'd ask him what they should call each other... it wasn't his top priority at the moment.

Later, actually much later, Eliot noticed with some level of smug satisfaction, seeing the black sky through the window, he was curled up with Q beside him in his bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling comfortably blank and exhausted, in a good way. He turned his head slightly so he could place a kiss against Q's forehead where it rested on his shoulder. "I feel a bit guilty," Eliot said, sighing in pleasure as Q squirmed against him, trying to get impossibly closer.

"Why?"

"This conversation started because Benedict's dead, and now I'm laying here, happier than I think I've ever been honestly, and..."

"Death makes people horny," Q said sleepily, nuzzling his nose in to Eliot's shoulder. Eliot laughed - more like giggled, and couldn't be bothered to care about his dignity.

"Hm, so that's what this is? You were horny so you came to your reliable pal - "

Q smacked him in the chest hard and sat up to look down at Eliot, but he was smiling. "Yeah. Also I really love you a lot, and you were being an asshole, and walking around with a depression monster telling you what a worthless piece of shit you are kinda gets in a person's head."

The grin slid off of Eliot's face as he looked up at Quentin. "You're worth everything to me, Q."

Q looked at him for a long moment, and Eliot had the overwhelming urge to crack a joke, change the subject, do something to ease the bubble of tension in his chest, but he'd decided to actually try for once, and that meant saying some of this shit out loud, didn't it?

"Okay," Q said finally. "Thank you." And then he smiled an easy smile, leaned over to press his lips briefly against Eliot's (both of their lips were swollen from how much they'd been kissing each other over the past few hours) and then flopped back down on Eliot's chest. "Let's get some sleep."

Q was asleep within minutes, and Eliot, to his surprise, felt himself drifting off almost immediately after him. Maybe they were actually done overthinking it, this time. Maybe it would work. Maybe they'd bring magic back and they'd defeat the faeries and they'd rule Fillory alongside Margo and Fen, and... and maybe none of that would happen, but he'd still get to keep this incredible person at his side when everything fell the fuck apart. Honestly, he was pretty happy with his options either way.

I didn’t really have a good way to end this, so I just cut it off here. Obviously the show would diverge from canon at this point, pretty wildly... in any case, at one point I might have considered writing more, seeing how the two of them becoming a canon couple in season 3 would affect the overarching plot moving forward. Maybe someday I’ll do just that, but right now everything is too raw. I hope this fic was a comfort or a distraction for some of you who might be feeling as low as I am right now...

[lejojotrash]

Omg I loved those la squadra hc's they were fantastic. Thanks if you do this request! May I please request la squadra (separately if that is okay) and their crush coming up to them blushing and shy like having trouble looking them in the eyes fidgeting with their skirt as if they want to ask them something and the boys are like o shit is this lewd but nah she's. just really shy and wants a cuddle but was worried it would be weird or too forward to cuddle a team mate but is feeling really cuddly

This request took me forever, but I enjoyed writing them. I love me some La Squadra.

La Squadra (separately) dealing with an crush or s/o who is super shy and wants to cuddle but they interpret it the wrong way.

Formaggio:The flirtatious, easy going mafioso bit his lip in anticipation as he watched you, his lovely crush shift nervously side to side. You apparently had something important to tell him, and he was forcibly dragged into your bedroom. Formaggio didn’t want to have his mind in the gutter but he did.

Formaggio had the tiniest (read as largest) crush on you because you were painfully shy and he found that so enduring and adorable, so imagine him hearing you say that you wanted to tell him something and THEN drag him into the bedroom, where all the magic happens, and then taking initiative in something, it kinda turned him on, and it kinda gave him hope that you liked him back.

“So…” Formaggio’s tone was low, borderline seductive, as you two entered the bedroom (Formaggio locked the door). “You wanted to tell me something, bella?” You flushed at his tone of voice.

“U-Uh… Well… I-I was wondering if you would… If you would like to… You know…” You trailed off, your sentence filled with stutters. Formaggio wanted to hear the words come out if your mouth. He imagined a confession and then making that sweet, sweet love to you in the bedroom. It was all he wanted.

“What do you want me to do?” He wanted to tease you and play dumb for a bit before starting. “Tell me, (First).” You squirmed a bit under his intense (thirsty) gaze.

“This is so embarrassing, Formaggio,” You muttered looking downwards, and plopped down on your bed. “C-Can you sit next to me?” He practically skipped in happiness to the spot. “O-Okay… Just… Just give me a few moments…”

“Take all the time you need, bella~” Formaggio stated with a bunch of affection. You breathed in and out to help calm your nerves.

“Formaggio…” Your voice was so delicate and soft. He clung onto every word that you were saying. “…I, uh… Can I… Can I cuddle with you?”

“Of course, I’ll be your boy-” Formaggio pauses. “What?” You buried your face in your hands in embarrassment.

“Can I cuddle with you?” Your request was muffled by your hands. Formaggio takes a few seconds to process this request, and he just laughs. A little disappointed he doesn’t get to score, but it’s whatever.

“Of course!” He exclaims like it was obvious. “You don’t need to ask!” You lifted your hands from your face to stare at him.

“I-I just don’t w-want to bother y-you…” You muttered bashfully, turning a bit red. Dio mio! You were the cutest thing on the planet!

“Aw, come here!” Formaggio spreads his arms wide, gesturing you to come closer. Once you did, he pulls you down with him lay down on the bed. Formaggio likes the feeling of you in his arms it was nice and you felt right in his arms.

“T-Thanks…” You whispered softly, if he wasn’t this close to you, he wouldn’t have heard you.

“Anytime, bella!” He snuggled with you. The two of you laid in bed like that forever. Formaggio wanted something more with you, something loving and passionate, he didn’t want the lust he had with those girls he flirts with at the bar or club, he wanted love with you, and there’s proof within his beating heart and you laying in his arms.Ghiaccio:

“Just hurry the fuck up and spit it out already!” Ghiaccio was currently in your room, tapping his foot impatiently, and glaring at you. Just because you’re Ghiaccio’s crush doesn’t exactly mean you’re spared from his unreal amounts of bitching or impatience (but he at least tries to patient… Sometimes). You flinch at his loud tone of voice and looked downwards. He felt kinda bad now. You weren’t the one to usually ask or start things whenever he’s with you, or anybody else, but he feels slightly special that you were more close to him.

“Sorry…” You muttered silently, in guilt. Ghiaccio scowled and adjusted his obnoxiously red glasses.

“Don’t apologize,” He grumbled, making his tone a little less intense. “Just… just take your time.” You breathed in and out to calm whatever nerves you had, and in the meantime Ghiaccio began to think.

He wondered what exactly did you need from him because it was rare that you asked him for favors or anything at all. It must be super important though… For you to ask him for something… Something… Eventually his mind travels to somewhere less kid friendly, and he scowls even more, the heat rushing to the back of his neck and ears, and maybe lightly across his cheeks. There’s no way. There’s no way you would ask something like that…. Would you? 

“Ghiaccio, are you okay?” You notice the sudden scowl on his face, but not the light blush that dusts his cheeks.

“I’m fine!” He snaps, flustered. His eyebrows furrow and his dark eyes look away. “So what do you want?”

“I… I was wondering if you wanted to cuddle…” Your voice was small and hesitant, and he flushes even more at the thought that he would assume that you of all people would ask to be intimate at all.

“Tch!” Ghiaccio mumbled some incoherent words and stomps towards the bed and plops down, laying down. When he sees you just staring at him and not making a move, Ghiaccio snaps again, “What are you waiting for!? Are we gonna cuddle or not?!” You were surprised, you didn’t think Ghiaccio would be into cuddling.

You cautiously set yourself right next to him on the bed and he wraps his arms around you. You were pulled close to his chest. Ghiaccio was a surprisingly warm guy, despite the nature of his stand, so you snuggled closer to him, your head close to his chest. You could hear his heartbeat, and it was beating quickly. It was nice.

“Your heart is beating fast…” You mumbled to yourself quietly, while placing your hand upon his chest, but Ghiaccio heard you, and hugged you tighter.

“Shut up…” He grumbled, stiffening by your light touch. Ghiaccio looked down upon you, there was a fondness in his eyes and lack of irritation on his face that was only reserved for you and you only. “Tease…”

“What?”

“Just shut up.” Ghiaccio was glad that you couldn’t look at his face because he was wearing an expression of fondness and not his usual constipated expression.

Prosciutto:

Prosciutto could feel a pair of eyeballs in him as he worked, despite there being no heirarchy in La Squadra, it was always assumed that he was second in command because of his dedication to the team, so naturally he has just as much work as Capo, and as an added bonus, he gets to be mother and take care of everyone in La Squadra. It was taxing on him sure, but as long as he keeps reminding himself it’s for the team, it’s fine.

However, there was one thing he was selfish about when putting something over La Squadra and it was you. Relationships were normally discouraged at work, and even more so when your job has to be a full-time assassin, Prosciutto was trying really hard to keep his feelings at bay.

You were a shy person when you met him, and you were also a person of few words, choosing to demonstrate things through action and not words. He respects that, and he couldn’t but grow fond of you

Currently the two of you were in his office with Prosciutto doing paperwork and you just staring at him, while he worked. It was a bit unnerving at first but he got used to your intense stares, but somehow you stare just seemed… More intense this time. Like it wanted something out of him. Prosciutto’s blue eyes flickered towards you, and you were still staring at him with an intensity he’s never seen before in your eyes.

Lust? No. He debunks the question as soon as it popped up in his head, even though the look of intensity was new in your eyes, especially with him…But… The possibility was still there. Prosciutto began to grow curious, but another part of him in his mind, chided him to get back to work, and so he did.

But you kept staring at him intently, Prosciutto thinks you’re wondering about asking him for something, he knows how you are as a person, your lack of confidence was similar to Pesci, just not in combat, you were extremely trustworthy in that area, but…

“Do you need anything, (First)?” He doesn’t look up from his paperwork. There was a moment of silence between you two (it was normal between the two of you), and then Prosciutto hears you get up from your chair, and then walk over to him from behind his chair. He felt your face go close to his side of his head, peering over his shoulder. He felt your breath next to his ear, but he refused to shudder. If Prosciutto looked at you, he would see something close to a tomato.

“C-Cuddle?” It was a strange one-worded request to hear coming from your mouth. The two of you weren’t an item, so you felt the need to ask it. He should be working but… Prosciutto looked at you.

“You want to cuddle?” He questioned, seriousness in eyes, and you nodded. 

“Just give me a few minutes… I’ll meet you in your bedroom.”Risotto:

Risotto sees you in his office, sitting on the floor, knees pulled up to your chest and dark bags laced under your eyes, after he came back from his mission. Normally if any other of his squad members did this, he would kick them out immediately, but it was different. It was you, a person who he cared about a little bit more than the other members (and is more softer towards. La Squadra doesn’t call him out on his ‘favoritism’ though). You jumped up a little in surprise at him entering the room.

“Capo…” You greeted softly, embarrassed that he caught you off guard, and in his office looking like totally garbage.

“What are you doing in my office?” Risotto questioned, it was more out of curiosity, but his stern and stoic demeanor and tone made it sound like he was interrogating you.

“I… I needed to ask you something…” Your face flushed. It wasn’t the usual expression that he’s ever seen of you. Shy, yes. Embarrassed, no. It might be something important, for a brief moment Risotto’s mind wandered into many territories, but it was a brief moment too long, and he snapped back to reality in an instant. He didn’t have time for relationships.

“What is it?”

“Can… Can I cuddle with you?” You questioned. “I-I haven’t slept well in awhile and I’ve been g-getting these nightmares, and Prosciutto would normally help me but he’s not here.” Risotto twitched at Prosciutto’s name bring mentioned. He could feel something inside him twist angrily, Metallica was getting riled in his system, but he kept a cool head about it. Prosciutto is like the mom of La Squadra and normally Risotto was busy and he’s not exactly the one to help his Squad members with personal situations like this.

Risotto walked past you, and sat on his chair, while you just watched his movements. Risotto beckoned you to come towards him, and so you did, and you were suddenly pulled in between his legs and against his muscular chest (fuck yeah), a strong arm wrapped tightly around your waist. Your eyes widened a bit with surprise, and you tensed up for a few moments but then relaxed. The size difference between the two of you made it easy for him to see above you without your hair blocking his way and focus on his paperwork.

“Capo…” You began trying to keep your voice steady, and not make it crack. “What are you doing?”

“Relax,” Risotto only said, but it sounded more like a command than anything soothing (although his deep voice was probably the most soothing thing in the planet). You hesitantly relaxed against Risotto’s (toned) chest. The two of you stayed like that for awhile until boredom, the sound of pen writing on paper, and Risotto’s body heat put you asleep.

Risotto felt you limp in his arms. He liked the feeling of holding you in his arms, he had ultimately decided. Risotto does not have time for relationships, but he decides that he can squeeze one in his schedule.

Illuso:

Illuso knows everyone in La Squadra like the back of his hand (due to his extreme stalking habits), therefore he can read everyone like a book. He can tell when Ghiaccio is gonna snap by the way he fixes his glasses and twitches his eyebrows, he can tell when Pesci is about to doubt himself the moment his eyes dart from side to side, and he can most likely tell that you like him by the way you look at him and bite the inside of your cheek (he’s happy because the feelings are mutual, but Illuso is an observer [as well as introverted], he doesn’t act unless he wants to). It’s a damn shame you were too shy to act on your desires though.

Illuso knows you want to ask him or tell him something by the way you were fiddling with your fingers and biting your cheek. He wonders if he should ask you what was wrong or if he should wait it out. Maybe it was the big break he was waiting for. Illuso decides to help you push you in the right direction.

“Hello, (First),” He approached you first, the two of you were on friendly terms in La Squadra, despite the slight skepticism and trust issues in the beginning for obvious reasons like you being a new member. You jumped slightly at Illuso’s sudden approach, a slight flush dusting your cheeks.

“I-Illuso…” You trailed off. “Hello…”

“You look troubled,” Illuso observed. You frowned, a blush becoming more visible. Did it really look that obvious that you were troubled?

In Illuso’s case, yes. Well. It wouldn’t hurt to tell him right? But it was so… Weird and embarrassing. You gulped audibly, and looked away from him.

“Yeah…” You admitted reluctantly. “But don’t worry about it. I think I can handle it.”

“Could you?” Illuso questioned cryptically and with a sort of knowing tone. It gave you the suspicion that Illuso… Knew what you had problems with. It was entirely possible that he could, and it kind of made you not really want to discuss this kind of problem with him. “Perhaps… I can help you.” It was a real nice gesture of him, but you still had your doubts.

“I-I don’t know, Illuso,” You stuttered nervously, biting your lip again. “It’s… Weird… And… Embarrassing.” Illuso knew how to get information out of anyone, whether it was stalking, or if it was torturing (he never tortured anybody though), or if it was observing, or if it was coaxing a person.

“It can’t be that embarrassing,” Illuso stated, already telling that you were starting to loosen up. “Don’t worry. You can tell me anything, (First). I won’t tell a soul.” The hesitation was clear as day on your face, but you relented.

“Well… I-If you say so…” You state. “Just… Just don’t think I’m weird okay?”

“Of course! Why would I ever think that?” Hook, line, and sinker. Maybe he’s gonna get a confession. All of this waiting finally paid off.

“Okay…” You fiddled around with your fingers even more. “So… Um… It’s… An activity… Involving two people.” Illuso nodded, motioning you to go on. “And you… Normally you do it with a special someone…” Okay. Wait. What? Focus, Illuso. He can’t let his train of thought stray off track. “And, uh, it… It’s normally done on a bed…” No. Nononono. A tiny bit of sweat began to trickle down his face. It can’t be what you’re talking about. There’s no way! You wouldn’t act like that according to his observations. “And… I was wondering… If you’d like to be that special person?” Are you asking him to have sex with you? Is this a confession? “I-Illuso?” He blinks, recovering his calm composure.

“Y-Yes?” Okay fine, he recovered most of his calm composure. Illuso was caught off guard by your… Innuendos. “I’m sorry, but can you clarify what activity we’re talking about?”

“Um… Cuddling…” You answered unsurely, blinking a few times. He felt like slapping himself in the face for such an idiotic assumption. Well it wasn’t sex, but at least he got somewhat of a confession out of you and got a chance to cuddle with you. You flush and hid your face with your hands. “I told you it was weird!”

“No, no. Honestly, it’s fine, I don’t mind cuddling with you,” Illuso reassured you, and he started to walk away. He turned his head to you and gave you a confident smirk. “Are you coming or not?”Pesci:

“Pesci, do you wanna cuddle with me? Pesci, do you wanna cuddle with me? Pes-” You had been rehearsing (chanting) the same question over and over again for Pesci. Somehow the question rolled off your tongue oddly and it never seemed right no matter how you phrased it or whatever tone you used. It was fruitless! Maybe it was because you two weren’t a thing or an item in La Squadra, only acquaintances, maybe friends if you’re pushing it. You think Pesci would think of you as a friend if he doesn’t always ditch you for Prosciutto, and always just seems so nervous around you! Does he hate you or what?

“H-Hey, (F-First)!” He greeted you suddenly and your heart nearly froze and you stopped chanting the odd question. Your head turned to face the said fish man so quickly you might have cracked something in your neck, but that didn’t really matter. “What were you saying?”

“N-Nothing! N-Nothing… At all. Zero. Z-Zip,” You rocked on the balls of your feet. Pesci gave you a concerned look, but chose not to continue asking.  "W-Well… I just have a tiny f-favor to a-ask…“ It’s now or never.

"Okay?” A favor? What kind of favor? Could he really help you out with this? Pesci’s thoughts were jumping from thought to thought. He was willing to help, he’s a kind person… Especially to you because… Well… He liked you.You blushed, still mentally preparing to ask him. It was now or never. It was now never. It was now or never.

“Um… I, uh, wondering if you’d, um, you know…” You trailed off, giving out a nervous chuckle. “Sorry… I’m just… It’s so weird.”

“N-No, it’s okay… Take your time,” Pesci said. You cleared your throat.

“Do you… Do you wanna cuddle with me?” You said quietly, but he still heard you and blushed.

“You wanna cuddle with me?” He repeated in disbelief. No one’s ever told him that before. You panicked, thinking that Pesci didn’t want to and he was just thinking that you’re weird.

“IfyouwanttoImeanyoudon'thaveto!” You spoke really quickly in order to defend yourself, but it might have sounded like a bunch if gibberish to Pesci. “…You don’t have to…”

“But I want to!” Pesci blurted out. Now both of you were blushing messes.

“Well… If you want…”

“Y-Yeah…” Both of you just stared at each other, not exactly knowing what to do.

“So… You wanna go to my room or…?” You trailed off awkwardly.

“W-Whatever works for you…”

“So… My room then?”

“Yeah…” The conversation might have been awkward, but the cuddling was just even more awkward, but somehow it was fitting  for the two of you.Melone:

You were perfect in Melone’s eyes. Perfect body, perfect zodiac sign, perfect health, perfect personality, the perfect mother. It’s too bad that you always shy away from his advances, so imagine his surprise when you come up to him late at night, fiddling with the hem of your shirt nervously.

“Melone,” You called out his name quietly as he sat on the couch watching a documentary. He turned his head so that he could see you.

“Hello, (First),” He returned the greeting, as you sat a good distance away from him on the couch. Melone has learned to respect your personal space because in all honesty he was a pretty handsy guy. He noticed the slight blush on your cheeks as the television’s brightness helped illuminate the room. Did you need anything from him? It was odd of you to come out late in the night, normally you would be sleeping. Have you finally realized your feelings for him?

He felt something shift on the couch, and the movement snapped him back to the situation at hand. Was that you? Were you moving towards him? Casually, he slung his arm around the couch, and you didn’t even move at all. Melone has now completely disregarded the documentary on the TV and has all of his attention on you, but you didn’t do anything for a couple of minutes and Melone thought it was his imagination.

But then he felt you move AGAIN, closer towards him. Maybe it wasn’t a fluke. Were you starting to warm up to him? He waited more and more and then you kept moving closer to him, inch by inch. He was so happy, one could not possibly understand his happiness. Melone used his arm that was slung over the couch to play with a strand of your hair, feeling the texture of your hair, normally you would slap his hand away like he burned you, but you didn’t.Melone was about to open his mouth to break the silence between you two, but you ended up breaking it first:

“…Hold me… Melone…” You bit your lip, blush growing even more on your face at the embarrassing request. He uttered a soft 'Very well’, warmth flowing through his system because he was making progress with you. Eat shit, Ghiaccio telling him he wouldn’t score because of his creepy stand and his intrusive personality, and just him in general.

And hold you, he shall.

I hoped you liked the imagines, Anon!

[thestylesproject]

#49 Cactus Messages (Harry Styles)

So, this is different. I seriously pray you like it. 

Word Count: 2,900

Summary: Harry meets a girl who gives him a cactus and leaves. But, there is more to the cactus which is sharp, strong and resistant. 

--- 

I had no idea why I was here. The world around me felt hazy and I, I just felt numb and empty. Empty yeah, that’s how I felt. It was an empty world with no emotions, and at the moment, I felt like I was giving too much of myself into it. My girlfriend broke up with me, saying she was too insecure in the relationship and that I was too much. Whatever that meant, and a week before my step -…and it just felt numb. I still was here though, I had no idea what an outing would get me. I get to at least mourn for a little while, instead of roaming like a hyper butterfly. Whatever that meant.  

“C’mon Harry, just a coffee?” Jeff repeated taking a sip of his.

“Fine, yeah, coffee,” Faster I get over with this, faster I can leave. I need a week off, no a month off. I don’t have a month off.

“Excuse me,” Jeff called for someone, “A Cappuccino, please.”

“Alright, could I get you anything else as well?” I looked up at the girl. Her voice…it was so soft.

“No, that will be all, thank you,” she nodded and walked away. “Look, Harry, I am going to cancel everything for the next week. But, I would be lying if I say I can for more than that, especially with the movie coming out.”

“Yeah, I know. Give me a week first. Please,” I said. I knew I looked like shit. I couldn’t get myself to look normal. Normal was annoying me now. Everyone at home was acting normal like it happens every day. Trying to maintain calm, control…And now, that I am in London, I don’t know what to do. What can I do this time to heal? I was so lost.

“Here is your coffee, and this is the sugar,” the waitress came back and placed the coffee on my table. This was a tiny coffee shop here, not many people came here, at least during the mornings. Residential areas were usually quieter. I hated this. My mind just ran in a random tangent before coming back and being numb again. “Umm…” I looked up and met her eyes. She wanted to say something.

“Do you want a picture?” I asked, like a machine. Like a machine, Harry. Your fans have done nothing. Jeff looked up as well, about to send her away.

“Oh no, I just wanted to say…I’m sorry for your loss,” She gave a small smile, “and…here,” I put my hand forward, and she put a little cactus plant which was in a box in my hand.

“A cactus?” I looked up, and Jeff giggled. She nervously moved her legs, before straightening up.

“Yes, they are strong, they hit, don’t die and take care of themselves. They are good friends. I hope you feel better,” she nodded and walked away, leaving me to stare at this plant. I looked up, and she was back behind the counter not giving this table another look.

“Okay, what I was saying was is that I am here, Harry. To take care of everything, so you don’t worry,” Jeff continued as I heard him, my mind still looking at that cactus. He kept talking, and I tried my best to keep a straight face, drink my coffee, stay calm. He stopped when a jumpy boy and his mother walked in. Too small was this place to not notice or be interrupted when people walked in.

“Kiara,” the mother said, “he really wants to have the tea you made for him the other day,” the mother said to the waitress, and she smiled. “He has been telling me since yesterday to make the tea like you make it and I’m so lost.”

The girl giggled, “I’ll make him another one, Mrs Andrews. Would you like me to make one for you as well?” She asked. Her voice soothing as ever, “and would you like a slice of cake with it?” she looked at the boy.

“Yes yes yes!” the boy laughed as he took a seat, pulling his mother with him.

“I’d love the tea as well, Kiara. Thank you. How is your college going? Adjusting well?” She asked.

“Umm yeah, well, I noticed that it is very similar to my previous one, in my own country,” She said, walking out with a slice of cake in her hand.

“Oh really! How so?” The lady asked.

“There you go,” she said, placing the cake in front of the boy as he jumped and giving a quick kiss on his forehead. “Umm, they both kill you slowly,” saying that with a straight face, as I saw her eyes that were actually quite tired. The look left her face as soon as it came, and she smiled again.

“Are you listening to me, Harry?” Jeff called, taking my attention again. “Stay in your house for a few days if you like it. Or go back home, you can do whatever. You don’t need to ask or anything, I’ll have it arranged.”

“Thank you, Jeff, thanks a lot,” I smiled. We placed a note on the table and left by the back door, my cactus still in hand.

---

I woke up to a sweet sound of an instrument I didn’t recognise. I looked at the clock, and it was 8 AM. My head still on the cushion, eyes now wide awake, I tried looking for that sound. It didn’t stop, just repeated the tune over again. It was really melodious and so calming. Searching for it in my entire room and concluding it was coming from outside, I walked out to see it coming from the cactus, that I had placed on the coffee table. I picked up to see a small slit of paper out, and the music stopped as soon as I took it out. Surprised, a small box was capable of being a music system and support a plant and gives out messages. I kept the plant back down and opened the small slit of paper. The words seemed like they were burnt into the paper.

A heart as kind as yours, a love so scarce as yours, a tear so precious as yours should always be preserved. I hope you feel well… xx K

I sat down with the note in my hands, just trying not to cry. It was hard, so hard. Death was so finite. A sentence that was never finished, it’s so unreal. But, what was happening was real, and I knew I had to be strong. Someone had to be strong and, this time I had that position. People kept visiting the house, giving condolences, saying they’re here for me. I wasn’t really worried about me though, it was my mum. She was alone now. And, I knew she won’t shift here with me. Too individualistic she is, and alone.

The week passed faster than I thought it would. I finished work here in London so I could go back to mum for a while before Jeff took me away. I didn’t leave the house. Not even once. I woke up every day to the sweet tone of the cactus, with a note, compelled myself to have a bath, exercise, eat and then work. There was a lot of work pending here in London, and I had to finish that as soon as possible.

It’s funny how people we love leave first. Is it easy to lose things that are important? xx K

My heart will not be on sale again, take it now Sir, I’m yours. xx K

Only you’re mine, everything else is yours. xx K

Some of them I didn’t understand, but they made me think about them for quite some time during the day. For those hours spent thinking, I remember being the happiest. Until the guilt of being happy came back,

Everything is sold here, my darling, please be careful. Find a safe place and fast. xx K

I wanted to go see her again, maybe thank her for this little gift which was my only source of happiness and excitement. My day started with me not looking at the phone but reading my little note. Sometimes, I let it play to just listen to the music. On the sixth day, I stepped out, and it felt like the sun was shining on me. It was in the air that said, everything is going to be fine.

Life goes on, my dear. It makes the rock turn into sand, a transition in its life, all there is to be done is move. xx K

I walked into the tiny shop, looking under the counter as I didn’t see her there.

“Hello Sir, I’m Maria, what can I get you?” a young blonde woman asked me.

For a moment, I couldn’t say anything. To say I was disappointed was not enough. I prepared my speech since I woke up this morning, trying to find the correct ways to thank her, and made sure I came at the exact time as the last to find her here on her schedule, only to not see her.  “Sir? ” She repeated.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” I blinked a couple of times, trying to remove the obvious-disappointed look on my face. “Hello.” I looked around the tiny shop again.

“Hello Sir,” She repeated, frowning and looking at the older lady working with her. Two girls sitting in the shop, giggled trying to take my picture, and I nodded towards them, trying to make my puppy face not so obvious.

“I was here last week, and there was this other girl. Um, long black here, till here…” I indicated to my waist, “Um, real soft voice, um really big eyes…she was the only one here that day…” I said as they looked at each other.

“Is there a problem with her, Sir?” The older lady asked.

“Oh, she works here. Thank god!” I sighed, thanking the Lord. “No, there is no problem, I wanted to thank her actually, will she be coming to work soon or?” I asked.

“Oh um, Kiara would not be joining us again.” The younger girl, Maria looked at me with pity.

“Oh, why not?” I asked.

“College students, Sir. They’re never here for too long. She got her internship so, the last week was her last,” the older lady said, putting the cake inside the showcase.

“Oh, um is there any way I can contact her? She did something really kind, and I have to thank her,” I looked at the younger girl.

“I’m sorry, we don’t hand out information like this,” The older lady gave me a smile.

“Please, I swear, I don’t mean to hurt her in any way-”

“It’s just our policy, Sir.” She repeated.

My shoulders dropped as I felt so sad, all of a sudden, “I’ll have an Espresso, please,” I said, handing out a bill.

I sat down near the window, just cursing myself not showing up the next day to thank her. It started raining outside, and I placed my finger on the droplets of water running down. I couldn’t control anything, “Your Espresso, Sir.” Maria placed the cup on my table, as I straightened up. “Your face becomes like a little child when you don’t get your things?” She questioned, “I’m a big fan of yours too, Sir. Check under the plate,” She gave me a big smile and unsuspicious, went behind the counter.

KIARA – +44 xxx xxx xxx9

I quickly slipped the paper under my pocket and nodded once, thanking her. The old woman looked at me and frowned, and I picked up my cup, “Amazing coffee!” and Maria laughed. I didn’t wait for the rain to stop and ran to the car. Locking myself in, I carefully dialled her number. It rang and rang…and rang, but no one picked up. I frowned, but before I dial again, Jeff called.

“You entered a coffee shop asking bewildered for a girl?” He said.

“Hi, bewildered?  I was not bewildered! Wait, how did you find out?” It had only just happened.

“Some girl posted it on Tumblr, with a picture of your back and the caption of you looking for a girl, bewildered! Harry!” I completely forgot about those girls in the shop.

“Look, it’s all okay now. I did, and now, I’m out. I was not bewildered at all, I promise,” I told him. And he talked about how I should have been a little more careful because, rumours when it came to me, didn’t die so fast. “I will, I will, I’m sorry.” We talked for a bit, and then, he kept the phone. I shook my head, seeing those girls cross by in front of my car in the rain. Rolling my eyes, I tried the number again. No one picked up.

Okay, one last time before you look like a bewildered creep. She picked up, “Okay, let me talk. I know you called me twice, and I I didn’t pick up only because I’m not in London and back home. This call will charge you loads so I would prefer you text to save you money, okay?” Her voice was as soft, as I remembered it to be. A little hurried, excited at the moment, but the same.

“I think, I will be able to afford it,” I said, giggling a bit.

“Um, who is this?” she asked, with a straight voice.

“Oh, yeah Hi!” I said, trying to make my monotone voice sound a little bit excited.

“Hi…” Her voice wavered.

“I’m Harry?” why was I questioning it? “I came to the coffee shop you worked at last week, and you gave me the um, cactus?”

“Mr Styles…” I could hear her getting a bit nervous, her breathing increased. “How did you get my number?” She asked her voice back to the calm.

“Oh, Maria gave it to me, very nice girl,” I said.

“Oh okay, how can I help you, sir?” she asked.

“Please call me Harry. I’m a friend. Um, I wanted to thank you for um, the plant…” My entire preparation of the speech was ruined just by hearing her voice. “I had a big thank you speech ready,” I said after a while, “it’s all wiped out from my head, now.”

“You’re welcome, Harry.”

“Um,” Why was I so nervous? “Can I meet you in person? Thank you…like in person?”

“Oh, so I’m back home for the next two weeks. Will be back in London on the 24th. I don’t know where would you be then…” she said.

“I’ll make it. Can I keep talking to you?” I asked. Why was I asking this?

“Like right now?” She asked.

“Um, generally...yeah generally.” I faltered.

“Why, Mr Styles?” She giggled.

I smirked, she was teasing me now, but then I just smiled to myself, leaning my head on the head rest. “You seem like safe space,” I said, quoting her notes.

“I see…” I could hear her smiling if that was possible. “We can keep talking…generally…Harry,” she said.

“Alright, I’ll shift to texting?” I asked.

“Um yeah, okay. Were you inside the coffee shop looking for me bewildered?” She asked, chuckling.

“How did you find out?” I asked, sitting up.

“It’s on Twitter,” she laughed.

“I was not bewildered,” I explained.

“It’s okay, I’ll keep our conversations to myself, don’t worry.”

“I was really not bewildered…” I tried again.

“Also,” She said ignoring it. “If you’d like the messages to continue,” She paused.

“Yes! Yes, I would,” I almost shouted.

She laughed, “Okay, so where are you?”

“Still sitting in my car, near the café, why?”

“Oh, splendid! So, there is a little stationary shop right in the block, can you see it?” She asked, and I confirmed. “So, you can go in there and buy papersinalittlebottle sheets. They are a tiny bunch of papers, which you’ll have to replace in the box. One set lasts two weeks only...”

“How do the messages appear?” I asked. “Aren’t they prewritten?”

“No, that’s a secret Mr Styles.” She laughed. “You’ll just have to replace the set. Open the screw and just stack the papers, okay?”

“Okay…I’ll buy ‘em right now.”

“Okay,” she giggled, “my mother’s calling Harry, I’ll have to go. Talk to you soon?”

“Yes, I will text…okay?”

“Yes okay..”

“Alright okay bye..”

“Bye Harry,”

“Bye Kiara…” And she cut the call.

It was still raining, but I stepped out and ran towards the stationary shop. “Hi, can I get the papersinalittlebottle sheets, please?” I asked the old man.

“Oh, more of Kiara’s messages?” He laughed, kindly. Were there more like me? “How many would you like?” He took out a huge packet which had little packets of those sheets. “One or two? There are 14 sheets in this little packet.”

“I’ll buy two of the whole bunch.”

“Son, two packets will last you a year, are you sure you want them all?” He asked, shocked.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Some love stories are meant to be a little different. 

---

Please tell me what you thought about the imagine. I’ll do the messages thing for you, if you like? 

Comments?

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Copyright ©theStylesproject 2017: ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. THIS WORK CONTAINS MATERIAL PROTECTED UNDER INTERNATIONAL AND FEDERAL COPYRIGHT LAWS AND TREATIES. NO PART OF THIS WORK MAYBE REPRODUCED OR TRANSMITTED IN ANY FORM OR BY ANY MEANS WITHOUT EXPRESS WRITTEN PERMISSION FROM theStylesproject.

[bangtanboysoneshot7]

Love Song [Jungkook Angst]

love song; a song about love

Loving him was like a love song.

Every little detail in every love song was the perfect way to describe how you felt for him. He was beautiful and it was getting hard to not falling in love more than you already did. Just like how you would fall in love, instantly, with any love song, because Jeon Jungkook was just like them.

Beautiful and addictive.

But he was out of your reach, like everything else that was too beautiful, too addictive and too unreal.

There was no place for you in his heart, in his love song, when he already had her in it.

You were out, shopping for clothes when you saw something you weren’t supposed to see. Soljin, his girlfriend, was out, holding hands and kissing another man. A man you had never seen or heard about before. But you knew whatever this was, it wasn’t good. It was going to break him.

And the last thing you wanted was for her to break him. You knew how much he adored her, how much he loved her.

You had never liked her, there were so many things you didn’t like about her, aside from the fact that she was lucky enough to have someone like him in her life, as a boyfriend. Soljin was never your friend, she was just a friend of friends. Just someone you had to get to know because of your friends.

But somehow, Jungkook had fallen and he had fallen like never before. You still remember the day when he told you that he was in love with a girl. You guys were eighteen then and your heart had almost leaped out of your chest thinking that he might had guessed what that you were in love with him and that he loved you back.

“It’s Soljin.”

How funny and how cliché?

You had hated her since then.

After following Soljin and the unknown man around for a whole day and ending the day with standing right outside a hotel that you just saw the two of them walk inside, together. It made you sick, knowing that she had been screwing another man all this time while being the sweet girlfriend of Jungkook’s.

The hate you had for her couldn’t get any bigger.

There were two choices.

You could either ignore this and not tell Jungkook and feel guilty for the rest of your life. Or you could tell him although it was going to break him and at least be able to see him in the eyes without guilt.

So you chose the second option. There was no way in hell you were going to ignore this and let this happen when you could’ve easily stopped it. There was no way in hell that bitch deserved the love that he felt for her.

Taking up your phone, you dialed his number.

“Hi Y/N, what’s up?”

“Are you free tonight? I need to talk to you.”

There was a short pause before Jungkook replied. “Yeah, sure. Is it bad that I’m imagining a really scary and angry Y/N at the moment?”

You had been angry. Angry over the fact that Soljin could do this to him. But hearing Jungkook’s voice calmed you down and you found yourself smiling.

“Yes, It’s bad and I’m really scary and angry so you better show up in time. 9pm, at my place.”

You could’ve guessed.

Jungkook wasn’t listening to what you were saying.

He didn’t believe in that his girlfriend of two years was cheating because why would he? They were the ultimate sweet hearts and it would take more than one of his best friends telling him that she saw Soljin with another, older, man, kissing and arriving at a hotel after a long day shopping.

“You’re talking bullshit right now, Y/N.” He said, raising his voice a bit. You sighed and blamed yourself for being stupid and not taking any photos for evidence. If only you had been a little smarter and thought a step ahead.

“Do you think I would joke about these things, Jungkook? I’m not talking bullshit. I’m saying the truth. Why can’t you just trust me and talk with her?”

Jungkook shook his head, taking a sip from the water that you had given him. “There’s nothing to talk about. She’s innocent and she’s my girlfriend, I know her. Soljin would never do something like that.”

You gulped and ignored the constant pain that in your heart. Now was not the time to care about yourself and your feelings. The one you loved and cared about was going to get hurt and that was more important than your unknown feelings for him.

“Are you seriously that blind? If you don’t believe in what I’m saying then fine. At least just call her, ask her where she is?”

There was something that flicked in his eyes and before you knew it, he was standing up, pointing at you.

“I’m not blind, Y/N. You know who’s blind?” He started, laughing humorless.

“You are, Y/N. I know the reason to why you’re doing all this. You’re trying too hard to get me to break up with my girlfriend. But I’m not blind, Y/N, because I know that you’re in love with me and I can’t fucking believe that I was so stupid to think that you could be selfless and let me be happy.” Shaking his head, he leaned forward until he was inches away from you. His eyes staring right into yours.

“Because you’re trying to break me right now, Y/N, and that’s fucking selfish.”

He grabbed his jacket and before he left, leaving you shocked and hurt, he looked at you with those eyes that told you more than words.

“I don’t love you, Y/N. I’m sorry if I lead you on. I love her. Only her.”

He was leaving. But he really wasn’t. He was never there in the first place but it still felt like he had taken a part of you with him.

It hurt.

There were no calls, no texts, no contact - nothing from him and it made you realise that maybe, you had done something utterly stupid. Something that wasn’t your business in the first place.

You couldn’t blame him for getting angry because if you were him, you would probably get irritated that someone that was in love with him was trying to break things up with him and the one he was in love with.

It was sad, having an one-sided love story. But even if you tried, there was no way to stop the feelings you had for him. It had gotten to the point where you even started to blame yourself for not being able to control your own feelings. What was the hard part with stopping those damn feelings?

Oh, yeah, realising, admitting and accepting. Those were the hard parts.

A few knocks on your front door made you wake up from your thoughts and you frowned, it was over midnight and you weren’t that popular to have friends come over at such late time.

Standing up, you slipped in your cardigan before making your way to the hall. Who you saw at the other side was not someone you had fallen in love with.

He was completely destroyed. There was no trace of peacefulness the moment he stepped into your apartment, looking like someone just ripped every piece of his heart out from it’s place. God, it was heartbreaking to see his puffy eyes as tears slid down his face like a freaking waterfall.

“Jungkook, Jesus Christ, calm down.” You said and threw his arm over your shoulder to help him inside, to your bedroom. A sad Jungkook wasn’t enough, he was drunk as well.

He kept mumbling something about knowing something and it was getting hard to hold onto his weight. You bite down on your bottom lip as you walked him over to the right side before pushing him down onto the bed.

“What the hell happened to you?” You asked in frustration and plopped down next to him on the bed, sitting right beside him.

“She fucking ended it.”

Shutting your eyes, you let out a loud sigh. You freaking knew it.

“Just calm down, okay?”

“Calm down? You’re telling me to calm fucking down?! How the hell am I supposed to calm down when everything in my body feels like it’s burning, Y/N?”

There was a long, awkward silence after that before Jungkook broke out in tears.

“I should’ve listened to you and broken up with her before I had to witness that myself. It hurts, it hurts so fucking much, Y/N. You have no idea how much it hurts to have your heart broken by the only one that you love.”

Yes, you had. But you didn’t tell him that because this wasn’t about you.

“I was going to surprise her at our apartment. I told her I had to leave for a concert in Tokyo and she told me that she was going to stay at home all weekend because she felt sick. And I fucking believed in every single word she said because I’m an idiot.” He shook his head and placed his hands over his face.

“She brought another man to our home. She brought another man into our bedroom. She was doing all this behind my back and I was blind to let her do that, although you had tried to tell me about this.”

God, it must’ve been a hell to witness something like that.

“And I can’t stop blaming myself for telling you all that shit that night. You were right and I was wrong and I’m so sorry, Y/N.” You felt his hand grab yours and just by that, it sent shivers down your spine.

You knew it was wrong but you couldn’t hurt him more than that so you let him hold your hand. But what you didn’t realise was that you were back to square one. You were letting him in, letting him break down the walls you had built up in the past weeks.

“I’m sorry for hurting you that night, Y/N. I never meant to.”

“It’s fine, I’m fine. But you have to move on, get better and forget about her.” You told him and watched as his hand squeezed yours.

“I know it hurts but perhaps it was meant to be like this, Jungkook-ah. You can’t get everything you wish for in life and love always seems to one of those things that you can’t get. But perhaps it’s easier this way? Don’t you think?” You asked, quietly.

“Some people are like love songs, beautiful and addictive. You can’t get them out of your mind because they suits you perfectly, just like love songs.”

Because he was the only person on your mind and he was your love song.

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY MY BUTTERFLIES!!! 

Hope you guys had/have a great day and even if you don’t celebrate vday, like me, I hope this bad one shot somehow gave you some Jungkook feels. 

And update on my life; School’s killing me, as usual. But I’m having a break from school right now and sickness is taking over instead of school. I did a smoothie last night (strawberries anad banana) and my entire family, icluding me, ended up getting food poisoned because there was a slight problem with the frozen - six months old - strawberries. But I’m fine guys, I was just really sick last night and this morning but I’m better now because I went out and ate froyo with my sisters and mom ;)) Oh and omg “Spring Day” is so beautiful I feel like crying. Our boys are so talented, you guys, let’s cheer them on, forever!!

I miss you guys loads and I hope I can update at least once a month! Please give this a heart if you liked it and I will see you soon!

Love you!! <333

[cadenzawrites]

Spots Off, Chapter 6

In which these ridiculous children have some actual conversations

Fic summary: Through a series of unfortunate events, the world learns that Marinette is Ladybug. Now Marinette must deal with the consequences while her friends and classmates come to terms with a reality that has been carefully kept out of sight.

Chapter word count: 4159

Chapter list: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6-you are here] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [Epilogue]

Read it on AO3!

Marinette lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling. Her eyelids felt heavy, and with the warmth of her friends’ presence gone, so did the various problems she had been doing her best to ignore. They sat on her chest like a physical weight, growing heavier by the second.

The four friends had talked a bit, it was true, but not about the really important stuff. None of them had seemed to want to, and with all of them there, it hadn’t felt particularly urgent. Why would she want to think about all the problems and complications in her life when she could giggle over relationships and dramatic reveals? And of course they had to introduce Alya and Nino to Plagg and Tikki. A vastly important thing, really. There was a brief interlude in the giggling and the messing about because of Nadja’s phone call, but that had only really lasted long enough for the group to a rather ill-informed but nonetheless emotional communal rant about politics and decide to meet up at Mari’s house the next day before going to the TV station together. But apart from that, they had simply hung out, enjoying each other’s company as if nothing were particularly wrong with the world. It was almost like any normal day, except that she and Adrien had hung on to each other rather a lot more than normal.

Ah, right. That. That was stressful now too.

Because as much as she had kissed Adrien, she hadn’t actually talked to him about their new relationship status, and suddenly she desperately wished she had. Kissing was all well and good, but what did that make them? Were they a couple? He had told her he loved her, so she guessed that was a “yes.” But were they supposed to go on dates now? She could hardly even picture it. It felt so surreal, somehow. No, not surreal—unreal. Surely that wasn’t the best feeling to have going into a relationship.

But the whole relationship issue seemed rather less important when she actually started to think about the implications of Nadja’s call. She had brushed it off at the time—she was among friends, which made her feel strong, invincible, even. Now that confidence was beginning to waver. Vigilante justice? Prosecution? That was serious stuff. If they failed tomorrow, if the mayor didn’t support them, then either Hawkmoth would win or she would have to consciously decide to be a criminal. Chat might be able to get away with it—he still had his mask, after all, his protected identity—but she…

She tried to remember her friends’ supportive words, their promises of undying support, but they sounded distant, hollow. They were all just kids! How could they possibly change the mayor’s mind? Who of them really knew how politics worked anyway? And what if…

Her thoughts were interrupted by a buzzing next to her head. She rolled over and checked the caller ID.

It was Alya.

Marinette swiped the answer button with a thumb and brought the phone to her ear. “Hey Alya. What’s up?”

“Hey girl,” Alya said. She sounded somehow like she was biting her lip. “I. Um. Well. I guess I just wanted to apologize. For today.”

Marinette’s mouth quirked into a bemused smile. “Apologize?” she said. “There’s nothing to apologize for. We just hung out.”

“Well, I mean for pressuring you into talking about… you know. Relationship stuff.”

“Alya, are you serious?” Marinette scoffed. “That’s like apologizing for breathing. It’s what friends do.”

Marinette was pleased to hear Alya laugh. “Well, you’re not wrong,” she said. “And don’t get me wrong, I am positive that under any circumstance I would have interrogated you just the same. But… but that probably wasn’t what I should have been focusing on at the time. You know, given the circumstances.”

Marinette felt her breath catch in her throat. “Meaning?”

Alya sighed deeply. “Meaning, of course I wanted to talk about you and Adrien. Like, duh. But I should have asked you how you were doing with the video and everything first. I just really didn’t want to talk about it. Like, really.” She took a deep breath and let it all out in a rush of a sentence. “Which is really dumb of me because you probably had a lot of stuff to get off your chest, but I was just scared and I didn’t know what you would say or how you would react and I didn’t want to break down in front of the boys so I chickened out and completely avoided the whole thing. I’m so sorry.”

Marinette took a deep breath. “You don’t think I was avoiding it too?”

Alya chuckled. There was a brief moment of silence.

“You know, we really should just talk about it,” Alya said at last. “Just take the time to work this out. Just the two of us.”

“Yeah. That sounds nice.”

“Shall I just come back to your place then?”

Marinette peered out of the curtain. “Yeah, that’d be best. There are still a few stubborn reporters hanging around outside, so it’s probably best if I don’t leave the house quite yet.”

“Hopefully they’ll all be gone by tomorrow so you can make a clean escape,” Alya chuckled.

“Ha, hopefully,” Marinette said. “See you in five?”

“In five.”

Alya arrived four and a half minutes later, breathing a bit heavily.

“I sort of made a run out of it,” she explained. “Just to keep those reporters off my trail. I swear, they’d annoy the crap out of me if I didn’t want to be them one day.” Then her expression suddenly changed. She looked panicked. “Well, not them exactly, but you know. A reporter. A good reporter. I-I mean, not that they aren’t good, like, skill-wise, but like, respect-wise they could use some work, I mean, they should be giving you space…”

Marinette put her hands on Alya’s shoulders. “Alya, it’s fine. I knew what you meant.”

Alya smiled and took a deep breath. “Right,” she said. “Well, shall we head upstairs then?”

Marinette agreed, and soon the pair was once more settled around Marinette’s lounging chair. Marinette fidgeted with the end of one of her ponytails, not quite sure where to start. She figured that Alya would probably talk first anyway, and she was not disappointed.

“Okay, so I know I said I’d ask how you were doing,” Alya began, “but first I just want to say that I’m really freaking sorry for what happened. I know you don’t blame me, but really. I should have realized the risks. I should have realized you’d be about to detransform, I just wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”

“Alya, it’s okay,” Marinette said firmly, placing a hand on her friend’s knee. “You weren’t thinking, I wasn’t thinking... we can share the blame. Along with whoever reposted the video. And that stupid reporter.”

Alya smiled. “Oh, I blame them alright. I just also blame me. Never you though.”

Marinette made a face. “Come on, Alya. If I had gone just five more feet…”

Alya raised her hands and shook her head. “Sorry Mari. You’re not changing my mind on this one. You can think whatever, but I will never blame you.”

Marinette rolled her eyes, but she was smiling a bit now too. “Fine, I won’t argue. But seriously. Don’t put too much of this on yourself. Please?”

Alya’s smile faltered a bit. “I mean… okay,” she said at last. “Only because you asked me to.”

“Alya…”

“Is there anything else you wanted to talk about?” Alya interrupted. “Right. Original question: how are you doing? I know it hasn’t been that long, but it must be a lot to deal with. How are you holding up?”

Marinette considered forcing the guilt issue, but the look of stubbornness in her friend’s eyes told her that would be pointless. Instead, she sighed.

“I think I’m doing okay. Better now, since I had that talk with Chat. I mean Adrien,” she saw Alya perk up a bit at the mention of Chat/Adrien, but she plowed ahead. “I was sort of stuck in my own head before then, but he helped me remember that I have a lot of people around me to support me, and that made me feel better. I think I’ll be able to get through this okay. I mean, we will. Provided everything goes well with the mayor tomorrow.”  

Alya nodded sympathetically. “I’m sure we’ll be able to bring him around. Mrs. Chamack must have something good planned, right?” “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

There was silence for a few moments. Marinette caught Alya staring at her expectantly.

“What?” she said at last.

“Oh, nothing,” Alya said. “Just wondering if there was anything else you might want to talk about.”

“You just want me to talk about Adrien, don’t you.” Alya held up her hands. “Hey, I’m not pressuring you, girl,” she said. “It just seems like something you might want to talk about, that’s all. You know, since he went from crush to crime-fighting partner to kiss-buddy in the space of a morning.”

Marinette opened her mouth to retort, but found that she had none. It would be nice to talk about it.

“Alright, so it’s like this,” she said, and Alya smiled broadly and tucked her feet up underneath her so she was sitting cross-legged on the lounging chair like an elementary student on a carpet square. “Chat Noir comes in and at first I’m scared he’s going to be disappointed in me or whatever but then it turns out he’s super supportive and keeps calling me amazing and everything and tells me that I’ll never be alone, which is great and, I mean, he’s always been great about stuff like that, supporting me and encouraging me and all that, and so I’m starting to think, okay. I can do this. I can face this stuff. And that makes me think, oh, I can know who Chat is too, so we’ll be on level ground, you know? So we can be a team in costume and out, because, like, I knew I needed his support, so I pull of his ring…”

“What, you what?” Alya said.

“I pulled off his ring,” Marinette repeated. “What?” she added, seeing the shocked expression still on Alya’s face. “I told you this all before, didn’t I?”

“You sort of skipped that part,” Alya said, eyes wide. “I mean, I assumed that eventually you learned that Adrien was Chat because otherwise you would have been surprised when he told us? Or when he was in your room? But you never actually said how it happened. You just sort of kissed Adrien and then Nadja called, so…”

Marinette blushed. “Oh yeah. That. Yeah. Well, that happened too. Just, later.”

Alya scooted forward a bit on the chair. “Okay, okay, keep going then. What happened after you pulled his ring off?”

“Well, I pulled off his ring and there was Adrien. Adrien, Alya! Just sitting there! Like, two feet away from me! And at first I was just freaking out but then I started thinking and processing and like… do you know how weird that is? That I’ve been crushing on Adrien this whole time, but he’s been right there? As Chat?”

Alya laughed. “I know, girl. After all, I’ve been practically stalking Ladybug and you’ve been right in front of me this whole time.”

Marinette smiled. “Okay, fair point. It’s just… strange. I had this image of Adrien in my head and now… I don’t know. I thought he was so far away, but it turns out he’s one of my best friends. Like, I have spent a lot of time with him, Alya. Patrols. Akumas. Publicity stuff. With Adrien. But… it was just Chat, you know? So it didn’t feel weird or anything, it was just…” She searched for the words to describe the sensation of simultaneous familiarity and strangeness, but there were none. She gave up and finished, “… I don’t know.”

Alya frowned. “You still like him though, don’t you? I mean, I assumed, with all the kissing…”

Marinette grabbed Alya’s knee in earnest. “I do, Alya! That’s the thing! I like him a lot! Like, all these things I’m learning about him just make him even more attractive.”

“Even the bad puns?”

“Okay, maybe not the bad puns,” Marinette conceded. “But Chat is super fun and supportive and kind and brave. And selfless.”

“So what’s the problem?” Alya asked.

“There isn’t one!” Marinette said. “That’s the problem! Everything is perfect!” Alya laughed. Marinette hurried to explain. “No, no, listen, here’s how it went: I learned that Chat is Adrien. Then I realized that not only do I still like Adrien, but now I know him really well. Then Adrien comes out with this declaration of love that apparently he’s been keeping tucked away since he freaking met me, and he still says it to me even though he knows who I am…”

“You mean because he knows who you are,” Alya corrected.

Marinette waved her off. “And then BANG, we’re together! It’s so surreal! I don’t know what to do!”

“Well, to be honest, I don’t see any problem with that,” Alya said, grinning. “Sorry, girl. You’ll just have to get used to it. Your stalker-ish, one-sided love-life is now dead. I’ll say nice words at its funeral.”

“But.. but...” Marinette sputtered. “I didn’t even have to confess! It wasn’t even hard! I just…”

“You just kissed him,” Alya finished for her. “Not a particularly talkative method, but straightforward. I can appreciate that.”

“Alya!” Marinette said, aghast. “Work with me here! What do I do?”

Alya untucked her legs and took a deep breath. “Look, Marinette,” she said. “You’re in a relationship now with the boy of your dreams, and one of your best friends. I say you take that and run with it—you deserve it, you deserve him, he deserves you, you’re perfect for each other.”

Marinette frowned. “But… really? I can’t just… I mean… it sounds too easy…”

Alya held up a finger. “That’s because you haven’t actually done any relationship-ing yet,” she said.

“What?”

“You heard me,” Alya said. “You haven’t seen how it works at school, you haven’t been on a date, you haven’t had an argument yet…”

Marinette snorted. “Oh, Chat Noir and I have had plenty of arguments. I doubt that will change.”

“But you haven’t had them as a couple yet,” Alya said. “That’s what I mean. You haven’t tested how this all works.”

Marinette felt her stomach drop. “Wait… so you’re saying that none of this is actually going to work out?” she said. “You’re saying that we’ll just fight all the time and it will be terrible?”

“No!” Alya said vehemently. “Absolutely not. I think you two will be the most disgustingly sweet couple on the face of the earth.”

“But then why…”

“What I am saying is that it will take work.” Alya leaned back again, hands on her knees. “That’s what’ll make it feel real. Don’t worry if it seems too good to be true now. Soon enough, you’ll run into your problems. You know, arguments and stuff. But trust me—if you’re both committed to it, which I think you very well are, then you can work through those together,” she smiled. “That’s how it works with me and Nino, anyways.”

Marinette sat back in her chair. A bit of work? She could do that. She was a hard worker—she prided herself in that. They could make this work. They could be a normal couple.

Correction: a superhero couple. But still.

She felt herself smiling.

“Thanks Alya,” she said. “I needed that.”

Alya grinned back. “No problem girl. Now I guess we just have to worry about the mayor, right?” Marinette’s face fell, and Alya blanched. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” Marinette said. She took a deep breath. “That’s tomorrow’s problem. We’ll face it when we come to it. Sound good?”

Alya nodded. “Sounds good.”

Marinette swiveled her chair around. “Now, it seems to me that I still have a bunch of snacks up here from earlier,” she said. “Tikki, want to help us clean them up?”

A red blur streaked from Marinette’s bed, stopping inches in front of her face.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Tikki grinned.

Adrien was having one of the strangest days of his entire life.

The previous night, he had gone to bed thinking that he would have a normal weekend, uneventful save the photoshoot, the fencing practice, the piano lesson, and the endless hours playing video games by himself in his room.

The video had rather changed all that.

Now, he was sprinting across the rooftops as Chat Noir away from the house of his first-friend-turned-love-of-his-life-turned-girlfriend-question-mark, resisting the temptation to check his baton for the eighth time. He already knew he was going to be late for the shoot, and that his father would be angry about it. What was the point in checking?

At the next rooftop, he flipped open his baton. Ten minutes past twelve. Yep, still late.

But as he swung over the park, he noticed something strange. The camera man wasn’t set up yet. He wasn’t there at all.

He detransformed and checked his phone, ignoring Plagg’s moans for cheese. There was a message there from Nathalie. He was a bit surprised that he hadn’t noticed it, but he supposed he shouldn’t be—his phone had been on silent all morning, after all. He flicked it open.

Shoot canceled, it read. Your father had urgent business.

There was also a voicemail. That was strange—Nathalie usually kept her correspondence brief. Adrien pressed play and held the phone close to his ear. It was, in fact, Nathalie’s voice.

“Adrien—I heard from your friend Marinette’s parents that you visited her house early this morning.”

Adrien started. She had found out that quickly? Well, Nathalie did have her ways. He kept listening.

“Ordinarily such unsanctioned excursions would be strictly prohibited and I would be obliged to report your behavior to your father. However, I have reviewed the circumstances and come to the conclusion that you were acting solely for the sake of your friend and therefore I will neglect to mention this particular outing to your father. I must warn you, though—I will not be able to keep future outings so private. Good day.”

The message ended with a small click. Adrien lowered the phone slowly. The message was clear enough—you got away with running around this time, but you can’t keep doing it forever.

But I need to be there for Marinette tomorrow when we all face the mayor…

More complications. He decided that the best course of action right now was to go home and play video games and think about it.

He could just play alone. Or…

He looked at his phone. Nino wouldn’t be busy right now, would he?

Half an hour later, he and Nino were settled comfortably on Adrien’s rather ostentatious couch, rapidly punching buttons. They had decided on Mecha Strike III, partially because it was fun and partially because Adrien didn’t really want a thinking game right now. He supposed Mecha Strike III could be a thinking game, if he were better at it. Maybe if he were as good as Marinette. She probably put rather a lot of thought into it when she played. He remembered her with her eyes glued to the screen, tongue sticking out just slightly, leaning in, close to the screen.

He really needed to find a way to get to the TV station tomorrow. He definitely wanted to be there for her. If only he could just…

A series of rapid buzzes in his controller jerked him back to reality.

“Dude, you got creamed,” Nino said, stretching back as the victory screen flashed a picture of his avatar. “You doing okay? You usually wipe the floor with me in these sorts of games.”

Adrien let out a heavy sigh. “I think I’m fine? I dunno… just thinking about tomorrow, I guess.”

“I feel that,” Nino said, nodding. “You wanna talk about it? Or just keep letting me virtually beat you up?”

Adrien laughed a little. “You sure you want to hear about it? It’ll be pretty sappy and mopey.”

Nino put his controller down on the couch between them and looked Adrien straight in the eye. “Adrien. Dude. I am your friend. Of course I want to hear about it.”

Adrien smiled gratefully. “Okay. Well, Nathalie made it very clear that today’s morning excursion was an exception, not a rule. There’s no way she’ll let me run around tomorrow.”

“Ouch. That’s rough,” Nino said. “But dude, you’re Chat Noir. Can’t you just, like, hop out a window or something?”

“I wish,” Adrien said. “I mean, that’s what I did this morning. But father tends to get… concerned when he can’t find me in the house.”

They shared a vivid flashback to the previous Christmas. Both shuddered.

“Okay, fair point,” Nino said. “I guess even Chat Noir’s freedom’s sort of limited then, huh?”

“Ha, yeah.” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, at least I get to be myself, even if I can’t be wherever I want to be.”

He hadn’t particularly meant to say it, it just sort of slipped out. But it did not slip by Nino. He was looking at him intensely, brow furrowed.

“Be yourself?” he said. “Dude, you know you can be yourself around me, right? Mask or no.”

Adrien hurried to explain. “No! I mean yes, of course I know that! But when I’m out there, you know, in public, I’m not just Adrien, I’m Adrien Agreste. Anything and everything I do could reflect back on my father. I have to be careful. As Chat though…”

Nino was nodding. “Oh, I gotcha,” he said. “As Chat, it’s just you. Nothing to hold you back.”

“Exactly,” Adrien said.

“Sounds like I’ll have to hang out with Chat sometime, then,” Nino smiled. “Could be fun.”

Adrien’s face lit up. “Dude, that would be awesome. We should totally do that. When would…” He faltered, remembering. Tomorrow. Right. “Well, right after…”

“Right after we get everything sorted with the Mayor,” Nino finished for him. “I gotcha.”

Adrien slouched forward, dropping his chin into his hands. “I’ve gotta figure out some way to get there. Maybe I can convince Nathalie that she has some sort of meeting and then while she’s running around trying to find it I can go to the TV station and…”

“Dude,” Nino cut him off. “You could just ask.”

“What?” Adrien looked up.

“Ask your dad. You never know.”

Adrien snorted. “Nino, you’ve seen how well that goes. That’s what got you akumatized, remember?”

“Yeah, well, that was over a birthday party,” Nino shrugged, not looking directly at him. “This is different. This is for a friend. Besides, your dad approves of Marinette, right? She always wins his design contests and stuff. And, I mean, he has to approve of Ladybug. So maybe he’d be okay with it.”

“Well…”

“It’s worth a shot, anyways,” Nino said stubbornly. “I know your dad is ridiculous, but he can’t be that cruel.”

Adrien snorted again, but maybe Nino was right. His dad was strict, but he wasn’t cruel. And he did like Marinette, as far as Adrien knew.

“Alright, I’ll ask,” Adrien conceded at last. “But only because you told me to.”

“Sweet,” Nino grinned. “And if he says no, clock him over the head and sneak out as Chat Noir.”

“Nino!”

“Just kidding,” Nino laughed. “But seriously, I think he’ll agree. I mean, you’re asking for permission to go support the love of your life. He has to know love when he sees it, right?”

Adrien blushed. “R-right. Thanks, Nino.”

“No sweat, A— ”

Just then, there was a sharp rap on the door. It swung open to reveal Nathalie, standing stiff as always, tablet in hand.

“Adrien?” she said. “Your father would like to see you.”

Adrien twisted around to face her. “Father? I thought you said he had urgent business.”

“Well, he’s back,” Nathalie said, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. Now that Adrien was facing her, he could see that she looked fairly frazzled. “He’s back, and he’s asked for you. So, come.” Both Adrien and Nino stood. Nathalie started when she saw Nino. “Oh, I see you have a friend here. Shall I—”

“I can see myself out,” Nino said. He winked at Adrien. “Good luck, man.”

“Thanks,” Adrien smiled back.

Nino slid past Nathalie and out of the room, and then it was just Adrien and Nathalie, staring at each other.

“Adrien, your father is waiting.”

Adrien took a deep breath. His heart was beating perhaps a bit quickly, but his legs were stable.

“Alright,” he said. “I’m coming.”  

Next Chapter—>

[softctts]

“We Love You, But You Can’t Deliver.”

Understanding one’s problem areas, unfortunately, doesn't count as an apology.

It was a boring Sunday night. I just left the Kendall Square Cinema after seeing the film, Disobedience. I wasn’t dying to see it, but a movie was one way to avoid something else on my plate: production planning for a music video that I’m trying to shoot for my friend. Instead of being upfront about how I’ve been creatively bankrupt since we’ve talked about it in late March, I’ve hemmed and hawed along thinking an idea will hit me eventually. Throughout the train ride home, I felt the guilt of procrastination creep up on me. It reached a tipping point by the time I got to the final stop, that I was once again fucking around, wasting time, and going nowhere. On top of all of this, I’m fucking my friend over with my inability to act. Then the existential questions followed: “What am I doing? Where is my “career” heading? Do I really have the audacity to call myself an artist? Why can’t I show up to the things that I said I want to do? Do I really want to do this?” These questions reverberated in my head as I walked through Forest Hills late at night. Another project that I started has stopped in its tracks. Because of me, just being me.

It’s been a weird year and a half. My professional and creative growth has ground to a halt and I’m understanding why. I just… suck. Not just morally, but also in a functional sense. The same way France sucks at maintaining a balanced economy for its working class. I talk about the things I want to do, but I’m constantly getting stuck and I can’t follow through.

This is what I do, I make things. But If I can’t do that, then who the fuck am I?

It’s hit me how much stock I’ve put into trying to be (and look like) an artist, but everything I do turns to shit. But as it turns out, when you wake up every day and mutter “you fuckin’ suck” before you brush your teeth, it becomes fact. Now in my mid-20s, my friends and contemporaries are living their best lives, but I have the audacity to wonder why nothing is happening.

I’ve had this image of myself that I’ve been reinforcing for many years now: I’m a filmmaker, writer, photographer, a creative thinker; I’m an artist. But I’ve never had the discipline or the mental fortitude to stay consistent with who I’ve been selling myself as. I stupidly thought that I would “change” out of nowhere.

Between late 2016 and this year, I’ve just been in this in-between space of starting and stopping things that have buzzed around my head. The more I get to the root of the issue (looking back at grade school, college, messed up internal reward systems…) I learned there was no sudden “point” when things went south, it’s always been this way. In what’s supposed to be my prime years, my eyes opened to how much I can’t properly execute anything. This explains my friends looking at me like a clown when I talk about projects I’m working on or I want to do. Why believe the pathetic guy who struggles to show up to his own work? The person who, unbeknownst their well-meaning words, can’t put their money where their mouth is? I cringe thinking back to the past conversations that involved “this cool idea I had” or “this script I’ve been tinkering with”. Only to return a month later when someone asks me “what’s new?” and I have nothing to say. “Really? What about that thing you told me about a while back?”

It’s been a slow burn.

Honing your creativity and making art is akin to working out: to see results, it needs to be a daily practice. When you fail to show up consistently, you're no longer reinforcing the gains you've made. You fucked up if you’re looking at something you made and repeatedly say “that could’ve been better…” But you’re failing yourself if that happens on every single project, for every single take, without a redeemable moment. Every chance I had at-bat over the year was a swing that was weaker and mediocre than the last. I had the opportunity to be the cinematographer for my friend’s music video in late March (“cinematographer” is a generous title for someone who was just holding a camera). I was rusty as fuck. Every second on set was me reacting instead of anticipating the next three steps ahead. My camera work was sloppy and the lighting was incompetent. I had a hard time communicating simple instructions like telling the talent where to stand or how to enter the frame. It might’ve been anxiety or the fact that I tried to give quick instructions without taking too much time, but I ended up sounding like that Fred Armisen character “Peter” from Portlandia. Luckily for the band, the project had a talented editor to make clever use of my mediocre work. It’s already out now. But in the meantime, am I happy with the result? As of this post, I haven’t seen it yet. I rarely watch my stuff. I think this is a defense mechanism to postpone disappointment. I’ll probably watch it in the future, find the problem areas, and if I’m smart enough I’ll take note of it for the next project.

My friend and I once joked that I’m often treated like a Make-A-Wish kid who got the opportunity to be a “filmmaker” for a day. But would you trust a sick 15-year-old with a $4 million budget? I’m grateful for some of my friends who decided I was still worth working with. But in reality, I’m nothing more than a tool in their eyes. My reputation as a maker is in the gutter (it might’ve always been that way), so there's no reason for anyone to trust me with any important decision. With my track record, I don’t blame them for not taking me seriously. Shit, if I was in their shoes I definitely wouldn’t, either.

The truth is sometimes like a soft pat on the face.

I’m not much use to anyone at the moment, let alone myself. The only recent thing I can claim is my participation in the #100DayProject on Instagram with CreativeMornings-Boston. I took 1 photograph over the span of 100 days… That was how I decided to start showing up. It’s art, I guess (or not, if we’re being honest). As far as growth goes, those are my new baby steps. It’s regaining the muscles I let atrophy over the months. On the plus side, I had a box to check off when I woke up in the morning. The music video my friend needed is on hiatus and I’m still, more-or-less, conceptually bankrupt (If you're reading this D, I'm sorry for keeping you in the dark). After unrealized concepts, “yes’ing” ideas that spark no enthusiasm, and gigs that ended with mediocre results, I need to check myself. My ability to provide value to others is flawed. How much of my friends time am I going to blow away on a project that becomes shit or lays waste on my Vimeo page? 

It’s easier now to face that I have things I want to do, but I don’t have the ability to deliver on it at the moment. In fact, it’s much better being transparent that I’m meandering instead of putting on a front. Is it pathetic? Sure. But if we’re in the business of “being real”, why bother putting a nice face on pathos? As much as it blows, I’m in a slightly better place now that I’m confronting the massive gap between who/where I am currently (versus where I want to go and who I want to become). In the meantime, all I can do now is look backward (but mainly, inward) to assess all that went wrong. From college, high-middle school, and the time I was taking media art programs and I undeservedly felt like “hot shit” because I was "making movies" at a museum. The person I was then led to who I am today. As I look back to better understand how I got here, there isn’t a whole lot to respect.