#so he uses italian homework as an excuse to get closer

[ryuuseini]

Thinking about Them (my emotionally unavailable failboy and the obsessive teen who stalks (?) him)

[flourgirl]

When The Party’s Over

Part II to “Even If It’s a Lie”

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader, Peter Parker x Gwen Stacy, Harry Osborn x Reader

Summary: The closer that Peter gets to Gwen, the more he realizes how irreplaceable you are to him.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: A few curse words here and there.

A/N: There’s going to be a third and final part to this story, so if you’d like to be tagged in it, please shoot me an ask or a reply and I’ll gladly add you to the tag list. Hope you guys enjoy this new part and happy reading :-)

“Counted all my mistakes and there's only one Standing out from the list of the things I've done All the rest of my crimes don't come close To the look on your face when I let you go” -Where Do Broken Hearts Go, One Direction

It had been 17 days since you had last seen Peter and all you could do was sit in your favorite coffee shop and stare at all the muffins in the case. Peter loved muffins. His favorite flavor was banana nut, and usually the two of you would jam out to all of your favorite songs while you waited for them to come out of the oven.

“Y/N,” Betty said, snapping you out of your daze, “Are you alright? You’ve been staring at the pastries for, like, five minutes.”

MJ put down whatever book she had decided to read this week. “Yeah, if you want one, go for it. You deserve it. Here, I’ll pay.” 

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a wadded up $10 bill, dropping it onto the table in front of you, and returned to her book.

“You could get a slice of cheesecake,” Betty suggested. “I know how much you like the raspberry one from here.”

But all you could think about was how you wished Peter loved you the way that he loved those stupid banana nut muffins.

“I’m not hungry,” you muttered, crossing your arms and closing your eyes to take in the soft jazz music that was playing alongside the chatter of the café. “But I’m keeping the ten bucks.”

“Maybe it would help take your mind off of things if you met someone new,” MJ suggested without even looking up at you. It was honestly amazing how she could carry on a conversation while still being so engrossed in her book.

“Yeah, Y/N,” Betty agreed, “You’re so smart, and pretty, and you made all of the baked goods currently taking up lots of precious space in our kitchen.”

“You’re a stress baker,” MJ added. She was right. Over the past two and a half weeks since that night, you had baked three cakes, four pies, and seven different kinds of bread. Maybe tonight wasn’t the night you tried out the new focaccia recipe you had been eyeing.

“I don’t know, guys,” you said, slinking further down into your chair. “I just don’t think I’m ready for that sort of thing.”

“That’s okay,” Betty reassured you. “Take all the time you need. But we’re here for you, Y/N.”

And that’s how the rest of that day went. Lots of suggestions on ways to stop thinking about Peter and you shooting them down. No matter how Betty and MJ tried to make you feel better, your mind was stuck on the nine voicemails and thirty-two texts he had sent you saying how he was sorry for whatever he did and how he just wanted things to be normal again.

Except you didn’t want normal. You wanted him. You wanted his bad puns and the way his sweaters smelled when he let you borrow one. And the worst part was, he didn’t even know what he did wrong. He didn’t know that he had broken your heart.

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

It wasn’t like Peter didn’t like Gwen. She was outgoing and confident, and he liked how it felt like she was always the center of attention. People wanted to talk to her, or sit next to her, or even have her know that they existed.

But she wasn’t anything like you, and the more time that Peter spent with her, the more apparent that became. She didn’t rant about reality TV or get so overwhelmed during public speaking assignments that the only way she could calm down was with a hug from him. In many ways, she was perfect. Except for the fact that she wasn’t you.

“We’re still on for Flash’s party on Saturday, right?” Gwen asked as she walked with Peter out of the lecture hall where they learned about vascular mechanics.

Honestly, Peter hadn’t even remembered that she had asked him to go to that until she brought it up just now. He was too stressed out wondering whether or not you’d ever speak to him again. 

But what did he do to make you upset? He had promised that if you wanted to leave the party, you could tell him and the two of you would go. Except you never said anything. You just got up and left, without even saying goodbye. You hated him and it killed him to not know why.

Despite this, he wanted to be the good guy and not disappoint any more people, and so he took Gwen’s hand in his and said, “Yeah, definitely. I’ll be there.”

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

If someone had told you that you’d run into Harry Osborn in the middle of Arthur Avenue, you’d say they were crazy. And if that same someone said that you’d ask him on a date, they’d be even crazier. But somehow, some way, that’s exactly what happened.

You were on the way to interview a third-generation restaurant owner for your Italian class. You had never been very good at foreign languages, but you would use any excuse to take a trip to Little Italy. The nervous knots in your stomach from the possibility that they would only speak in a dialect that you couldn’t understand was worth it, because this little nook of the city was home to the best arancini in all of America.

To be honest, it seemed unbelievable that he’d be there, at that exact time, in that exact place to where you’d run right into him. You had been too busy reviewing the notes you had taken during the interview to see that you were on a direct path towards face planting into his torso.

“Fuck,” you grumbled, staring down at your notes scattered on the sidewalk at your feet. The guy you had just ran into kneeled down to gather them into a neat stack, handing them back to you.

“Y/N?” he asked, which caught you off guard. Who the hell was this? It wasn’t until you stared at his face for a few seconds that you recognized him. That guy that Gwen was with at the party. He looked a lot different in his button down and khakis compared to the sweatshirt and baseball cap he had on when you had first met him.

“Uh, hi. You’re Gwen’s friend, right? Henry.” You knew his name. You just didn’t plan on letting that you knew it.

“Yeah, but it’s Harry. Sorry about that, by the way. So, anyway, what brings you all the way down to Little Italy? It’s pretty far from campus,” he told you, as if you didn’t know that. I mean, you had walked all the way here, hadn’t you?

You shrugged, looking away from him. “I guess I could ask you the same thing.”

It was the first time in a while that someone wasn’t fawning over him just because he was rich. Honestly, it was really refreshing. “I asked first,” he noted, mimicking your crossed arms with a smirk.

Who does this guy think he is? 

“Listen,” you sighed. “I really don’t have time for this. I need to get back to my apartment and finish up writing this essay that’s due at midnight.”

“So you’re taking Italian, I presume?” he asked, it suddenly becoming quite clear as to what you were doing on the other side of the city.

“Yeah. And let me guess, you were eating brunch at some fancy, expensive restaurant that your dad owns, drinking some $100 bottle of wine while some nerd you pay does your homework, huh?”

“No,” he laughed. “I was helping put together Thanksgiving dinner baskets for underprivileged families down at the soup kitchen.”

It was only then that you noticed how annoyingly handsome he was. Essentially, he was the male version of Gwen. Same blonde hair and preppy style that just screamed “I have a trust fund.”

“Of course. What, did you need a good photo op ever since the Daily Bugle ran that issue where they called you a spoiled playboy who loves to party?”

You had no intentions of entertaining him, especially since he was a friend of Gwen’s. The girl that had kissed Peter right in front of you, and pretended like she couldn’t remember your name. The girl that Peter was probably with right now.

“I’m not going to pretend like that wasn’t part of it, but believe it or not, I’m not actually as big of a selfish asshole as the papers make me out to be.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, I can tell by the cashmere sweater vest and leather loafers that you’re wearing that you’re so down to earth.”

There was an awkward silence, and Harry decided to change the subject before he pissed you off even more. But what he chose to mention next was the one thing on the planet that you didn’t want to talk about.

“So, uh, I guess your friend Peter is with Gwen now,” he started, which had somehow managed to make you dislike him even more than you already did. Sure, there was no way for him to know how you felt about the whole situation, but it still pained you to think about how you had become an afterthought to who you thought was the guy who would always have your back.

You blinked back at him, frowning. “Yeah, I guess so,” you muttered. And then there was another awkward silence.

“Well, I’ll let you go now. It’s obvious I’m taking up some very precious time in your day,” he said, offering a weak smile. “Maybe we’ll see each other around campus.” 

It suddenly dawned on you that you might have been just a little too hard on him. He seemed nice enough, even if you weren’t a big fan of the company he kept. Before you could even really think about it, you called out, “Wait!” and walked over to meet him when he had turned around.

“I’m sorry,” you admitted, nervously toying with the hem of your sweater. “I’m just in a really bad mood.”

“It’s fine,” he reassured you, although he wasn’t quite as confident as when the two of you had started your conversation. “We all have bad days. I hope yours gets better.”

“It could, if you’d let me buy you a coffee,” you said, genuinely smiling for the first time in a while. Sure, it was nice to think that Peter would probably be upset once he heard that you had asked someone out and he knew nothing about it, but a small part of you was asking just because Harry Osborn seemed like the kind of guy you’d like to have around.

“Sure,” he answered back, running a hand through his hair, which seemed to be in a perpetually perfect messy-but-not-too-messy state. “Have you ever been to Hungry Ghost in Brooklyn?”

Your eyes lit up. “That’s actually my favorite café! They have this really awesome grand piano in the middle of the room, and every Friday they have an open mic where anybody can sign up to play it.”

Your enthusiasm honestly surprised you. It was nice to have something to talk about that didn’t somehow involve Peter.

“Actually, I’m signed up to play tomorrow night,” Harry told you, “Do you like jazz?”

It almost seemed too good to be true. You loved jazz. “Definitely,” you confirmed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Alright, cool. Let’s make a deal. I’ll let you buy me a coffee if you come watch me play tomorrow night.”

“Deal,” you agreed, before turning back towards your apartment, all giddy with excitement to tell MJ and Betty about what had just happened.

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

“You probably didn’t know this, but Y/N’s been hanging out with Harry Osborn,” Ned said, walking into the common room wearing his “special” Hawaiian shirt, which Peter knew meant he was going someplace fancy. “They’re kind of dating.”

Peter looked up immediately from his linear algebra homework. He had an uneasy feeling in his stomach about what Ned had just revealed, but he didn’t know why. He was with Gwen, and if you wanted to date Harry Osborn, then you could. But still, he found himself being just a little bit jealous that some other guy was filling in for him.

“Oh,” Peter said, looking back down at his homework. He couldn’t focus anymore, so he just shut the notebook and threw it from where he was sitting on the top bunk onto his desk. “How long has that been going on?”

“Two days now, but they’ve been spending every minute together since. Betty said that they bumped into each other on the street and she just asked him on a date out of nowhere,” he replied, tying his shoes to go meet his girlfriend for date night. “I just thought I’d let you know, in case you saw them when you were out and got mad at me for keeping it from you.”

“Thanks, dude,” Peter sighed, lying on his back, “You’re a good friend.”

“I know. Anytime, man. Now I gotta go. M’lady awaits,” he said. Peter didn’t even have to look to know that his roommate had just tipped his imaginary fedora.

Harry Osborn wasn’t even your type, Peter thought. You didn’t like guys as “pretty” as him, and you had always been more into brown eyes, not blue. So what was the appeal? His trust fund? Peter knew that you weren’t that shallow. It was just that, well, he couldn’t imagine you falling for someone like that.

You’re with Gwen, Peter kept reminding himself. So many guys would kill to be in your place. It wasn’t until he checked the time that he realized that he was actually about 20 minutes late to meeting her for the party. The stupid party at Flash Thompson’s tacky apartment that he didn’t even want to go to in the first place.

It was an understatement to say that Gwen was pissed when Peter knocked on her front door over half an hour late to the time they had agreed upon.

“What took you so long? I’ve been waiting,” she complained, smoothing out her sparkly silver dress that caught the light just right when she moved.

“I’m sorry,” Peter sighed, grabbing her hand as they walked down the street. “Uh, I guess I just lost track of time.”

“Whatever,” Gwen said, “Just don’t let it happen again.”

When they finally arrived at the party, the bowls of potato chips and mini pretzels were nearly empty. The floor was sticky, and Old Town Road boomed from the speakers in the living room. 

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” Peter told Gwen, leaving her to greet all of her friends that had been waiting for her to show up. 

As Peter wandered towards the keg, he couldn’t stop thinking about you and Harry, and all the things that he didn’t know about your newfound relationship with some guy you had just met. He still didn’t know why he was so upset about it. He should be happy you had found someone you liked. In high school, all you ever talked about was finding the perfect guy, and if that was Harry Osborn, who was Peter to make a fuss about it?

But that didn’t stop Peter from filling up his plastic cup more times than he should’ve that night. It wasn’t until he was being dragged back to his dorm room by Gwen after puking on Flash’s couch that he realized what was wrong. He wanted to be that guy. The one who got to hold your hand and cuddle with you during scary movies. The one that got to love you and be loved by you.

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Taglist: @hommyy-tommy @itsgonnabeohtay @alltimekyn

P.S.: Sorry to all the people I forgot to tag on this one! I didn’t know that when you answer asks privately, they go away from your inbox. Please shoot me another ask or reply to this post so I don’t miss you again!

[biggirllifestyle]

Ducks in the pond.

Summary: Being friends from the beginning does get its perks, but it's also such a heartbreaking scene when you’re a background character or so you think.

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x OFC(Original Female Character)

Word Count: 4k+

Warnings: Small cursing, this got away from me so sorry.

A/N: I found my next victim Chris Evan characters, I’ll do better I swear.

Being surrounded by the elite is not something many can say they have experienced especially if it’s something you have been doing since a very young age when you were not even part of that social group. My mother did not come from a wealthy background, she didn’t come to the country with any knowledge of the language and without a penny in her pocket but thanks to a faithful day where she had met Harlan, he had offered a helping hand for my mother and from there on she became his lived in housekeeper.

The first time I ever met Ransom I couldn’t say that I wasn't tempted to punch him in the face, we were children when we met and everything that came out of his mouth was rude and condescending. Ransom was older than I and I knew he was Harlan's favorite and least favorite grandson, he was a rude snotty kid who used to pull on Megs and I’s pigtails every time he could get away with it.

I didn't know when it started but at some point, Ransom began to follow me around never leaving my side, I think it began the day that I finally gave in to my urges and punched his perfectly handsome face. My mom was mortified when she found out what I had done, Ransom's mother Linda was pissed and had demanded her father to fire my mother as a repercussion for what I had done but instead, he laughed and I had to apologize begrudgingly to him and from then on I had my shadow. That was how it was for the next few years, him following me around until we became inseparable, we were still coming from polar opposite sides of the societal spectrum even if he never treated me any differently from his rich friends.

While he was out partying with his private school friends I was working part-time jobs and doing homework to pay off my tuition, Harlan had offered many times to pay off school as a thank you to my mother's service through the years but I never accepted feeling guilt at his kind offer. There were times when my friendship with Ransom was tested as his rich dick persona would come out and he would sometimes disrespect my lack of social standings when he would hang out with his friends, I always hated that side of ransom because I knew that the words that he said were partially true, we were from different backgrounds his way of living was different from mine where I was dressed from thrift stores and low-grade shopping centers he was dressed to Gucci and Balenciaga but that didn’t seem to matter to him.

The only times that any of those comments bothered me was when it came from Ransom's weekly conquest, they were all beautiful women who seemed to have walked out of a photoshoot they were all thin and beautiful women who just oozed money from their pores if they even had pores since all of them seemed to be flawless. I always wondered what it was that I did for Ransom to be so faithful to our friendship never once did I have to compete with others because, in the end, he would always choose me this was also another reason why his conquest didn’t last long since their cruel remarks on my appearance and social standing was an ending point on the relationship, maybe it was the fact that I was always the one who saved him from doing something stupid like getting kicked out of his family or him ending up killing his grandfather.

Things changed when Ransom left for college he had gotten accepted to Princeton and off he went, our communication was limited since he was always so busy with school and me with my part-time jobs. I had forgone going to college to stay close to my mother and in the process, Harlan had offered me a small position in his publishing company which his son Walt was not too happy about. Everything was going well for me. I was living an adequate life. I had finally moved out and gotten my apartment, my work was going great and I had finally made some great friends.  Ransom seemed to be doing well as he was passing all of his classes, he even became friends with his dorm mate, which he was forced to have if he wanted Linda and Richard to keep paying his tuition.

Everything was going well for both of us. Our friendship was thriving through the long-distance even if I was hiding a deep dark secret from him, the fact that I have been in love with him for a long time now. This has been a raging issue that I had been hiding for such a long time but I never thought of doing anything about it since most of the time I was fine with being his best friend, I relied this to Claire my friend from work after I hanged up on Ransom on our call of the week.

“That is the saddest and dumbest thing that I have ever heard,” Claire said as she sipped on her wine, “and I am saying this with a lot of love but if you don’t feel like it would work between you two maybe you should try to give yourself a chance with someone else.” I turned back towards her as I took out the popcorn from the microwave, she made a shrugging gesture before turning on the tv.

“I am just saying Eric from accounting seems to be interested in going out with you, and hey I haven’t heard anything shifty about him from anybody else.” She browsed through a few movies before finally choosing one. I sat next to her setting down the bowl of popcorn in front of us as we settled down, “I’m just saying we big girls deserve some love so if that means you having to go on a date with a guy just so you could be able to get over your childhood friend, then so be it.”

I couldn’t help but think over what Claire said and I knew she wasn't wrong but a small part of me still wished that maybe Ransom felt just a little of that love that I felt for him but I knew it was probably a far cry, so I gave Claire a nod agreeing for her to set me up with Eric she squealed before reaching for her phone as she started texting someone after a few moments she put her phone down and mine began to go with off, it was Eric I gave a panicked look to Claire who just shrugged I sighed before answering.

“Hi, Eric how can I help you?” I said acting dumb, Claire swatted at my arm but I hit her back focusing on Eric who seemed to be having a conversation of his own.

“Yeah I heard from someone that you wanted to go out, and well I just wanted to know if the upcoming Friday was good for you I know this great Italian place that just opened up we could go after work if that works for you,” I was about to respond but I felt my phone going off again I pulled it away seeing Ransoms name on the screen, I debated on answering before ignoring it and returning with Eric.

“Friday sounds great”

After hanging up with Eric, Claire and I continued our movie before she had to start heading home as soon as she was gone I began to tidy up, after ignoring Ransom's call I thought about my friendship with a man who looked for the very best for his life. At some point, I had silenced my phone in the chance that if Eric were to send me a text I could just use the excuse of not answering, and that is how I had left it as I went to sleep since tomorrow started our winter break so there was nothing I had to worry about so with that thought I went to bed.

When morning came I finally had the chance to finally take a break and just lay in bed, everything was silent no noise whatsoever just the random drive of cars on the street and that was it after a while I finally got myself ready to get out of bed reaching for my phone I noticed that Ransom had called me nine more times leaving enough text messages that I worried that something might have happened. Dialing his phone as I began to get ready just in the chance if I had to rush out at any moment to meet him after the second ring he finally answered.

“Where have you been? I’ve been calling you all night do you know how worried I was,” Ransom said as he began to chastise me, I couldn’t believe he was doing this after we had talked before he started calling me liked a maniac I was about to tell him off and let him know that I didn’t think very highly of his little outburst before he stopped, “Now ducky this is what’s going to happen do you hear me your gonna finish getting ready, put your shoes on and come outside so we can go eat some breakfast do you hear me.”

I huffed out at him but did as he said as I finished getting ready, Ransom always did this ordered me around expecting me to follow his every whim without any form of repercussion from my part but I knew I would never really fight Ransom since all in all I was his only true friend. After finishing getting ready I rushed out of my apartment locking behind me before taking the stairs two at a time I soon as I got to the lobby I couldn’t help but take a small breath the small exertion from my actions after composing myself I walked out seeing Ransom's car, I couldn’t help the giddiness that came over me this would be the first time I would be seeing him after his no show for Thanksgiving so I was very excited to see him again as I got closer to his car ready to greet him excitedly I couldn’t help but notice that he wasn’t alone.

“Ducky it’s so good to see you I missed your pretty face,” Ransom said as he stepped forward to hug me but a hand stopped him from moving forward as I was left standing awkwardly from where I stepped forward to meet him, his companion stepped forward putting out a slender and manicured hand so I could shake.

“Hi, nice to meet you. I'm Caroline, Ransom's girlfriend, you must be the friend.” The way she said the word friend made me flush entirely it sounded so mocking when it came from her but I ignored it as I gave her a small smile. Ransom was watching our interaction before clapping his hands together, “Right so let's be on our way then.”

He walked over to the driver's side as he got in Caroline opened the passenger door and motioned me to get in first, I couldn’t help but look at her with a questioning look, Ransom seemed to have caught on to what she was trying to do as he motioned towards Caroline, “Caroline maybe you should ride in the back that way I can also have time to catch up with Ducky.”

Caroline huffed and crossed her arms like a child, the words that came out of her mouth made me feel so shameful I wanted the floor to swallow me whole, “I think she can fit in the back if we push the seats all the way forward I mean I wouldn’t mind moving it since I don't take up much space.” Ransom was about to protest against her but I moved forward pushing the seat forward as much as I could so I could squeeze myself through.

“It’s fine don’t worry about it, this might be the only opportunity I might have to feel as if I’m being abducted or something,” I joked as I positioned myself into the tight space of the back, Caroline seemed smug by her win as she got into the passenger seat Ransom turned to look at me as I avoided his gaze as I looked down at my phone he turned back around as he started the car, the drive to the restaurant was quite from Ransom and I’s point Caroline was going off about some friends of her who were currently on a break or something of that sorts.

When we arrived at the dinner I couldn’t help but feel a sense of calm, this was Ransom’s and I’s regular place we used to go to back when we were in high school, I used to work part-time here and sometimes he visited me as I sneaked him fries when I could. Ransom looked back at me with a soft smile I couldn’t help but to return until I heard a scoff Caroline seemed to not like our choice of location and she seemed to want to protest but Ransom ignored it and got out coming to her side as she opened the door for her, that seemed to placate her as she took his hand to get out. I huffed out a little breath as I began the agonizing task of getting out of the car without making too much ruckus where I would be noticed, when I finally got out I noticed that Ransom and Caroline were waiting for me I flushed hard realizing that they saw my struggle but I gave them a small smile before walking in front of them into the dinner.

Louise was at the counter and the moment she saw me she couldn’t help but let out a shout of excitement she called to Adam who was at the grill in the back as they both came forward to greet me, they saw Ransom and the excitement grew they’ve known us for a very long time so of course, they were glad to see him as well. Louise gave us a small shove as we went to our usual seat which was a booth at the back, when I was young I was scared to go anywhere near the booths but the good thing was that the seats here were spacious so there was nothing to worry about, Ransom scooted in but Coraline seemed to hesitate to look disgusted before sitting down at the corner.

“So how’s school? Are you having any problems with your classes, any subject you might be struggling with?” I asked as I moved around the salt and pepper shake, Ransom laughed as he beat an with a tirade of his Lit professor who loved to throw existential questions into the lesson as if that would help them finish their assignments on time, I couldn’t help but laugh at his whining as our server finally came to our table. There seemed to be a small tension coming from Ransom and Caroline but I chose to ignore it as I moved my attention to our server, he seemed to be about our age, and from what I could see he was new since I could sense his small hesitancy as he took our orders, I gave him a small smile as I tried to give him some reassurance of what he was doing.

“Don’t worry about it you’re doing a great job let me tell you when I used to work here back in the day it was hard, to say the least so no pressure and just take it one step at a time,” Tom as his name tag said relaxed as he gave me a cute and flirty smile that made me blush as I sent him a small shy smile as he walked into the kitchen to put our orders in when I turned back to Ransom he seemed to have a frown on his face at our interaction I made a funny face at him as he rolled his eyes before returning to his tirade. Caroline seemed too quiet so I ignored Ransom as I tried to make conversation with her,

“Are you also at Princeton Caroline?” She gave me a look before turning her nose at me.

“Yes I am in school at the moment but it's not like it matters I’m just doing it to pass the time while I inherit the family business,” she said as she moved around the straw in her drink, I gave her a confused look at her words because I couldn’t understand what she meant by “passing the time,” she must have seen my confusion before she gave a huff before continuing, “Daddy is paying for my tuition so I can go but I don't do anything besides hanging out with my friends or taking trips, there’s no point for me to be going to classes if there is no point to it since I’m just going to inherit my family’s estate and wealth.”

I looked at her with a mildly disturbing face at her words, how I wished I had the opportunity she had to go to college but that option was never one to be considered since it was much too expensive to pay off and I didn’t want to accumulate debt when I was trying to help out my mother with her immigration situation so I said nothing, Caroline seemed to have caught on to my reaction because she gave me a scathing look for even looking at her in that way.

Before anything further could be said Ransom butted in to alleviate the tension that had just arisen between Coraline and me, “So Ducky how’s work Uncle Walt said that he was giving you your team to manage Grandad’s new book, how's that going for you?” I gave him a small smile as I began to tell him about the work that we have been doing and how I’ve been getting along well with everyone except an older editor who keeps trying to override my directions every time I make them to the team. Ransom nodded along at that moment Tom came back with our orders setting them up on the table before turning to me with a small smile, “Do you need anything else, anything I could do for you?” I smiled at him as I was about to respond Ransom butted in,

“No, we’re good.” I looked at Ransom with a pissed look at the rude tone he had used on Tom, he didn’t seem to care as he glared him down until he walked away. I was confused by Ransom's attitude I’ve never seen him act this rudely to people without a motive so his change of character made me wonder what was going on with him and if it had to do with the woman who was sitting right across from me poking at her food uninterested to us.

“So you remember Claire?” I asked him as I ignored his previous way of being with our server, Ransom seemed to be focused on his food so he hummed as confirmation, “Well we were talking last night and she set me up with one of our colleagues, and well now I have a date next Friday!” I said excitedly, Ransom began to choke on his food and I panicked as I started pushing his drink closer to him, Caroline had left just a while ago to the restroom and still hadn’t been back, after he had calmed down Ransom looked at me very differently almost as if he was mad at me for what I had said.

“Are you serious do you even know this guy, how could you put yourself in that situation you haven’t dated anyone ever and you think that going out with this guy is your best option,” he stopped himself his hands balled up into a fist on the table, I couldn't help the tears that welled up this was new to me Ransom had never spoken to me like this before never in such a way as if to shame me not when I decided to go to not go to college and not when I told him about my accident from high school.

“Are you that desperate? if you were you could have just told me and I would have shown you a pretty good time.” The shame and mortification that came over me at his words were so great I let a tear slip from my face, Ransom seemed to realize that his words were far too harsh because he reached out to grab my hand I flinched away from him not wanting him to touch me at all, “I want you to take me home, right now Ransom.” He seemed to hesitate before he clenched his jaw before scooting out of the booth he set a few bills on the table and began to walk out I sat there for a few minutes before finally walking after him Louise gave me a wave and I saw Tom give me a smile and a wave until I was out the door.

Ransom was sitting inside the car already waiting for me to go in, I didn’t see Caroline anywhere and I almost went back inside to go get her before Ransom spoke up again, “She already left her friends came and picked her up half an hour ago.” I nodded before getting into the passenger seat, on the drive back to my apartment everything was quiet, only the hum of the car providing sound. After a while we were finally there Ransom parked but didn’t turn off the engine we sat there quietly for a bit before I finally turned to him, “I’ll see you at the Lagoon okay, I think you and I need some time apart to think about what happened,” I paused as I looked away.

“I love you, I’ve always loved you and I want you to give me the chance to grow from those feelings so I feel like this is the best option for me,” I stepped out stopping before looking down at Ransom who was still so stock still, I knew that my words were probably still processing to him but there was no turning back I finally said what I needed to say and I was ready for everything that was coming, “Patito, I need you to understand that no matter what I would choose you over everybody else.” And with that, I shut the door.

My date with Eric had occurred and it was the worst thing I have ever been on, believing that maybe this could be my chance to grow out of my love for Ransom I looked at the bright side but Eric was the worst he was rude and snobby and made comments about my appearance making it seem like I had to give him a thank you for even looking my way and I hated it. Ransom and I hadn’t spoken to each other since the day we went out and I hadn’t been able to think about it, so that night after my date I cried letting out the pent up emotions I had thought about the fact that maybe me falling in love or being loved would be a notion that could never happen.

During my little outburst, I heard my phone going off and without looking I answered it, the other person on the line was quiet before I heard an outburst, “What the hell happen where are you?” I was confused for a second before realizing that it was Ransom on the line, “Did that son of a bitch do something to you tell me where you are before I go kill him.”

I gave a few hiccuped breaths before Ransom calmed down with the softest tone I have ever heard from him, “Look Ducky I just want to make sure if you’re okay? Tell me where you are and I’ll meet you there in a heartbeat.” With that tone I was able to calm myself down as I told him I was at home, he gave a confirmation telling me he would be here soon as he ordered me to drink a glass of water before he hanged up.

Fifteen minutes later and an empty glass I heard knocking at my door when I opened it Ransom dressed in some plain sweats and the sweater I had given him for Christmas last year no matter what he wore he always looked handsome and this time I couldn’t help the tears that dropped. Ransom crowded me as he began to wipe the tears from my face. Here I stood my hair and makeup a mess dressed in the nicest dress that I had as the person I loved wiped my tears off my face.

“Did he do anything to you Ducky? Tell me and I swear that I will find him and kill him with my bare hands if I have to.” I laughed at his words nut I gave him a shake of my head telling him that nothing had happened. Ransom seemed to let out a breath before he moved us to the couch, we sat there in complete silence as Ransom held me close after what seemed like hours even though it was probably minutes I finally calmed down enough that I had stopped crying altogether.

“I called you today because I knew you had your date with that guy, I was mad, at you, at me, at that prick, and at fucking Claire for setting you up,” he took a deep breath before sitting up and pulling me away from him so we could be facing each other, “I thought of your confession and I am sorry for not calling you sooner but there was so much on my mind I have to tell you.”

I looked up at Ransom seeing that he was being completely serious and I couldn’t help the pull in my chest at the way he looked in that moment how much he has grown from when we were young and how much more he could do in the future, “I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time now but I haven’t been honest with you at all, I don’t want to be your friend anymore and I haven’t wanted us to be friends since high school after we went to different schools,” I pulled away completely when he said that the tears were coming back and I felt as I couldn't breathe anymore Ransom could probably see my upcoming panic attack, so he did something I never thought would happen. He kissed me.

He kissed me.

That was the only thought that was going through my mind as my brain short-circuited, I stared up at him surprised not believing he did that Ransom stood before he started pacing rubbing at his neck before turning towards me, “This is not how I wanted to do it so I feel like I am already messing up but,” he paused as he took a deep breath before he came before me and kneeled so we were at eye level, “I have been in love with you since we were kids I think from the moment you punched me in the face and Grandad forced us to hang out, but I think the moment I knew was when I saw you at the dinner you were talking to some customers and I remember how you reached towards their little girl as you wiped something off her face and made her laugh.”

He leaned towards me just a little until our faces were just inches apart, his eyes darted down to my lips as I wet them, “I knew that if I could I would do whatever it took to keep you at my side even if that meant us only being friends, but I am done being your friend.” With that, he surged forward kissing me much softer than I thought my lips tingled at the contact after a few seconds he darted his tongue to swipe onto my bottom lip as I parted them for him before he began to kiss me a little bit deeper. When he pulled away I couldn’t help but let out a whine he chuckled at I flushed hotly at his laugh giving him a soft smile,

“Ducky you’d don't know how long I’ve been waiting to do that, I love you so much.”

“I love you too Ransom I always have and no matter how annoying you are with your little designer clothes and your dumb car,” he gave an offended scoff which I giggled at, “but I will always love you no matter what.”

Tags: @rmtndew​

[consumeconstantly]

Small Buff Girl Sightings Ch 4.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | ao3 ___________________________________________________________

Marinette is not surprised when she receives a text message from Lila two days after she speaks to Damian. She’s been expecting Lila to contact her.

After all, Damian refuses to listen to common sense and transfer, and since he hasn’t been brought into the fold with the rest of the class, he clearly must be against them. This causes the rest of their classmates agitation. Marinette is afraid that Damian might end up like the rest of the transfer students; pushed away and aggravated to the point of akumatization.

It doesn’t matter that Marinette brushes off Damian’s attempts at conversation. All it matters is that there is one (1) Very Attractive Boy that is not under Lila’s thumb and is associating with Lila’s supposed enemy. Surely, the Italian girl knows that the current situation holds all of the possibilities for a disaster.

Marinette isn’t sure how Lila has her phone number, but she supposes it doesn’t really matter. Since Marinette didn’t run for class president this year, Lila was elected because of everybody’s adoration for her. Being Class president is a good resume boost, so Lila accepted, and appointed Alya as her Vice Deputy (and of course, allowed the faux reporter to do all of the legwork for her.) So, it’s highly likely that Lila just looked up her number in the class registry.

7:45AM | Unknown number: it’s lila. i’ll meet you at the corner cafe near the louvre at 4 today. we need to talk

8:05AM | Marinette: okay

Unknown number: youre not going to ask why

Marinette: we both know why

11:02AM | Unknown number: be on time

On his part, Damian isn’t the kind of person who is heavy handed in conversation, which is good for Marinette. He makes snide comments when annoyed and asks questions about assignments that reference lessons he wasn’t there for, but is quiet otherwise. He doesn’t bother much with pleasantries and also doesn’t bother asking to hang out after school, which Marinette is very glad for. Hawkmoth is sending out akumas more frequently than he has in a while, and she has a lot of work to do with commissions-- mostly received through word of mouth-- and homework. She does want to get into a good college, after all, and it’s not exactly like she can put I am the superhero, Ladybug on her admissions essays. Or maybe she could, as some sort of joke?

Still, his obvious denial of Lila’s advances is all too apparent to the class, and even without Lila’s instigation, gossip spreads like a wildfire. In fact, it spreads despite Lila’s desire for it not to. The class doesn’t talk about it when Lila’s in earshot, but Lila knows what’s going on. Lila sees the pitying looks that are thrown her way, the whispers in her ear about the bully, Marinette, getting her claws into another, poor transfer student.

At first, Lila attempts to divert the class’s attention by pushing her relationship with Adrien. Lila gets even closer to Adrien, who, weirdly, smells like some sort of old cheese, especially when she gets close to his breast pocket. 

“Oh, Adrien, I think it’s so sweet that you’re going to be taking me to dinner tonight!” Lila finds that Adrien’s forearms are surprisingly muscular. Not that there’s anything wrong wth that-- she likes her boytoys to be strong, but sort of stupid.

It’s a pity that Adrien isn’t stupid, just a pushover. The two of them have an agreement, just like she and Marinette do; Adrien will play along with Lila during class time so her empire remains as strong as ever, and Lila gives Adrien an out for model related things. She doesn’t know where Adrien continually disappears off to during photoshoots, but Gabriel trusts her for some weird reason she hasn’t figured out yet. Which means that Lila is the perfect, ever constant excuse. Occasionally she goes out with Adrien on a “date” to keep up appearances, but it’s hard to date someone who doesn’t follow her every whim. Lila also doesn’t know anything about gaming, or anime, or anything that Adrien has interest in. In return, Adrien dislikes fashion, manipulation, and lying. Really, they have no common ground.

When the American transfer showed up, Lila had been hoping that he would be dumb. He is wonderful eye candy-- more muscular than Adrien and definitely more filled out, that’s for sure. Lila knows that Gabriel has Adrien on some god-awful model diet, but that boy can metabolize like there’s no tomorrow. But it’s not Lila’s place to intervene. That’s family matters-- that’s show business.

Damian Grayson is not stupid, which is either a blessing or a curse, because that means theoretically this man is the whole package. He’s tall, dark, and has a sharp tongue. Exactly Lila’s type. But nothing that’s actually good ever comes her way, and the moment she meets him, she can tell that he dislikes her. Not for the first time, Lila regrets telling such bald-faced lies her first year. Prior to that year, her mother and she hopped countries nearly every year. Apparently, her mother decided that having Lila in the same school throughout high school would be beneficial. Maybe if Lila hadn’t made such a huge mistake in her first year at Francois Dupont, she would be friends with Marinette, who has more of a spine than the rest of the class combined. 

Lila knows a losing battle when she sees one. Damian doesn’t like her, though she’s not sure why. She gets the feeling it’s not just because of her past lies. She’s good at telling what people feel about her, has been trained to since a young age. Since her mother is a diplomat, business dinners and charity galas have been her playground since childhood. Figuring out people’s relationships started as a game, at first. Then Lila learned she could turn her knowledge into a tool. As she bounced around from school to school she got more and more adept with manipulating the relationships that she saw. But she’s seen her mom lose before. She miscalculated, thought that she could change somebody who was too headstrong. It hadn’t been pretty-- and it was high stakes, too. That’s why her mom and dad are now divorced. 

She recognizes the same bullheadedness in Damian that Marinette has, and Lila knows that with Damian and the class at odds like they currently are, things will go south. Unlike the other transfer students, Damian looks like he will not be easily cowed and will not transfer just because his classmates say mean things to him. They certainly won’t be able to hurt him physically. Which is why she needs to meet up with Marinette. Do damage control. Make sure that she is safe, and that nobody can hurt her. Nobody in this stupid class can hurt her, really. Except for maybe Marinette, but she is too kind to do so. And now, Damian. Which means Lila needs to get a lock on him, and Marinette is her way to do that.

That’s why Lila is here, now, at this cafe near the Louvre, far, far away from anybody who goes to Francois Dupont. None of her dogs will find her here, and she can work something out with Marinette.

Marinette slides into the seat across from her after ordering something, and Lila begrudgingly admits that the girl is pretty and fashionable. She has a fluid grace to her motions, as well, which is why Lila found it weird that she had been so klutzy when they first met. Puberty, maybe?

“So,” Lila starts. She doesn’t really know how to talk to Marinette. Marinette is not one of her dogs. Marinette is smart, and loved, and good at what she likes; she is, at the very least, Lila’s begrudging equal. “Damian Grayson.”

“Damian Grayson,” Marinette repeats, knowingly. She smiles and jokes, “It almost sounds like we’re meeting up to talk about who we have a crush on.”

There are times when Lila wishes that Marinette took her up on the first option of the truce she presented. She wouldn’t have minded a partner in crime, and Marinette is everything that Lila lacks. That’s why Lila offered it in the first place. She knew that Marinette wouldn’t take it-- she was far too morally inclined too-- but it was worth a try. 

“I’ve tried talking to him,” Marinette says, “But he’s not the type to listen.”

“He’s smart.” Smarter than the rest of the class, Lila thinks, so of course he won’t ally himself with her. People who follow who are always disillusioned dreamers who don’t have enough common sense to use Google. “I don’t mind if he’s not on my side. He just can’t be against me.”

Lila doesn’t care much about her classmates at Francois Dupont, but she can’t give them up, either. She still has the rest of this school year and the next, and it’s easier having her classmates fawn over her and drop everything at the flick of her wrist. It makes being class president very easy. If Damian exposes her lies, the end of her lycee years will  inevitably end in an unpleasant altercation with Gianna Rossi, her mother. And while her classmates are inarguably dense and too trusting, their attentions aren’t altogether unpleasant. They invite her to go to mundane places and she agrees to, when it’s not too much of an inconvenience. 

Marinette nods, sagely, then sips her Cafe au Lait. “There’s nothing to worry about there. He doesn’t like dealing with classroom politics, so as long as you don’t mess with him, he’ll stay away.”

“Good.” But also-- Lila hesitates. She doesn’t think that Marinette will agree with this, but she’s a little bit desperate. As useless and unthinking their classmates are, Lila doesn’t want to lose them. They’re all that Lila has. And they’ll think it weird that Damian isn’t on her side. They might start messing with him, and by extension, Marinette. On Lila’s short list of who she has tried and failed to take down is Marinette. The girl is slow to anger and has seemingly unending patience, but she’s unquestionably talented and charismatic, which means Lila does not want to see her mad. She’s been accepting of the new classroom dynamic in which her classmates ignore and ocassionally insult her because the whole school knows the two of them have bad blood, but some days Lila catches Marinette looking at Alya, Nino, and Adrien with a distant fondness. If they totally turn on Marinette, it won’t end well. 

Apparently, Marinette can see the hesitation on her face. Lila is surprised at how good the other girl is at reading people. She definitely should not have the same experiences that Lila does. She has too bright of a disposition to have experienced a life constantly embroiled in politics and poor personal relations. But somehow, Marinette is almost as good at reading people as Lila is.

“If you think the rest of the class is going to do something, I’m pretty sure that Damian will be fine with you shunning him. He doesn’t like liars, but as long as it gets him out of dealing with the rest of the class, he’ll be fine.” Marinette knows how little Damian cares for their classmates. She can ask him for permission after talking to Lila, and then act accordingly. 

This is surprisingly easy. Though, most things with Marinette are. Even the first time that Lila confronted her, they only needed to speak a few words before everything was resolved neatly. 

“I’ll let you know what I decide to tell them.” Lila figures that it’s easier for her to tell Marinette what she’s planning and not get an unexpected surprise at the last second where the girl opposes her. 

“Sounds good.”

Marinette’s phone is on the table, and it buzzes itself to life. Lila sees her lockscreen: a picture of Marinette and her family. Lila thinks of her own lock screen. It is much less personable. A lock screen that is one of the many that are preinstalled.

Marinette picks the phone up, which comes off as uncharacteristically rude. Marinette doesn’t seem like the kind of person who is constantly attached to technology, and she does have better manners than most of her classmates. Lila doesn’t think she’s ever seen Marinette pick up her phone when talking to somebody, and Lila wonders if Mariette picks up the phone because she thinks so little of her. 

But Marinette looks pale and worried. She says, “Sorry, but it looks like I have to cut this short. If there’s anything else, just text me, okay?”

Then, Marinette dashes out the door, wide-eyed.

Lila wonders if Marinette’s statement extends to things outside of their classroom situation. Maybe she can get Marinette’s opinion on Gabriel’s Spring line. 

#

“What’s wrong, Renee?” Marinette is worried. Renee never calls without texting, first. Normally, he calls when it’s nighttime, right before he goes to bed. He’s calling in the middle of the day, and something feels wrong.

Renee is taking shuddering breaths on the phone, and Marinette feels her stomach drop. “M-ma-maman,” he wails.

“Did your maman do something?” She’s making her way to Renee’s grandparent’s residence. Marinette visited Renee once in the past week, and he was settling in fine. His grandparents really love him. They said that after their son died, they were rarely able to contact Renee because his mother always had him so busy.

“Maman, she, she hurt Nonna.” Everything that Renee says is punctuated by sniffles and held-back tears.

“Is Nonna bleeding? Can Nonno come to the phone?” 

“N-no, I don’t know, Mari, I’m scared, Maman, she’s never been this angry before, Nonno made me lock the bathroom door, I can’t hear them anymore, she’s not going to hurt them, is she? She can’t hurt them, Mari, what am I supposed to do? I’m sorry, I’m sorry for being so bad, I’m sorry. Please--”

“Stay right where you are, okay Renee? Can you use your phone to call the police to Nonno’s house? I’m going to be right there. Nonno and Nonna are going to be okay.” 

Renee lets out a shaky, “Yes,” and then Marinette hangs up the phone, darting into an alleyway to turn into Ladybug. She thinks that this might be the fastest that she’s made her way through Paris, and her heartbeat is so fast, Marinette feels like she’s about to vomit.

Ladybug swings to the suburbs where Renee currently resides, detransforms, and sprints into the house. The door is left wide open, which is a bad sign. It signals to Marinette that Celia was violent from the start, and that the elder Monsieur and Madam DeVries did not even have time to close the door. 

She is unfortunately right; Madam Devries is on the floor with her arms over her head, body in a fetal position. Celia is barely restrained by Monsieur DeVries, who has deep scratches on his arms. 

“You,” Celia snarls when she sees Marinette come through the door. “You bitch! Your stupid intervention made me lose my chance at a promotion. Now I’m on probation! I could be demoted, all because you thought that you could teach my child.”

Celia’s stiletto heels slam onto Monsieur DeVries’ bare foot, and he flinches from the pain. It gives Celia just enough slack for her to escape his arms and storm up to Marinette. “Everything I do is for Renee. I work so he can go to school, so that he has a roof over his head, and so he can go to all of those stupid lessons that his father wanted him to do. And what do you do? What gives you the right to take him away from me?”

She tries to claw Marinette, but misses. All Marinette has to do is sidestep, sweep Celia’s already shaking legs from underfoot, and then pull Celia’s arms sharply and backwards. Marinette’s shin is locked over the back of both of Celia’s knees, and Marinette contorts the woman backwards so Marinette can speak directly into Celia’s ears. 

Marinette is glad that there are no cameras rolling here, though she has gathered so much evidence against Celia for charges of child abuse and corporate fraud that there is no way that Celia isn’t going to jail. Sine there’s no video evidence, if Celia wants to bring this instance up, she can just claim self defense.

“You starved Renee when he didn’t want to go to the lessons that you arranged. You beat him if he did anything wrong. You made him think that it was normal for kids to go weeks without seeing or hearing from their parents, prevented him from contacting other family members and from making friends, and humiliated him just because he wanted to hug you in public.” Marinette pulls Celia’s arms back even more sharply, so that her spine was over Marinette’s other knee. Celia let out a gasp and a muffled cry of pain. “You can’t pretend that you did all of that for Renee. You certainly can’t pass off the laundering of Silverstein and Company’s money as something necessary for you to take care of Renee.” 

Marinette abruptly pushes Celia onto the floor, letting the leg that wasn’t restraining Celia’s knees onto the woman’s lower back. It’s a lot easier to restrain somebody who’s unconscious, but Marinette wants Celia awake to realize how quickly her life is going to go down the drain. So that Celia knows how much evidence she has stacked against her. 

It takes Marinette longer than it usually does for her to restrain her victim with zip ties, but she gets it done well before they even start to hear the police sirens. 

“If you think you can use your late husband’s name as an excuse for what you’ve done to Renee, you have another thing coming. I will see you in court this Thursday and not only will you be out of a promotion, you will be out of a job. I’d like to see you try to get a job in France when you have charges of child abuse, violence against a teen and family, fraud, and money laundering on your record.” 

“But I love Renee! He is my and Jean’s child. The last connection that I have with Jean. How could I ever hurt him intentionally?”

This only makes Marinette feel more disgusted. How twisted Celia’s vision of love is. Is this how Gabriel feels towards Adrien? Does he also delude himself into believing that his constant isolation of Adrien is a form of love? 

“Sometimes, intent doesn’t matter.” Marinette says softly. “The consequences of your actions make you accountable. If you truly love Renee, let him be happy. Let him be safe.” Maybe one day, Celia will learn to be better. To love better. Marinette isn’t sure if Celia should ever be let back into Renee’s life, but that isn’t a decision she can make. That’s something that Renee and Monsieur and Madam DeVries must decide. She hopes they wait on it.

Celia cries, and Marinette can feel the woman’s shudders underneath her fingers. Her face is to the ground now, but she’s lost all color and Marinette can almost believe that she is ashamed and doesn’t want to look at anyone. But as good as Marinette is at partial and half-truths, she’s never been good at lying. Not even to herself. 

The police come, and Celia is escorted out in a solemn procession.

Madame and Monsieur DeVries do not thank Marinette, but the way they look at Renee with such concern and affection as they embrace him is all she wants, anyways.

#

The trial is a quiet affair. There is little to no media coverage because Monsieur and MadameDeVries want it that way. 

Since Celia’s physical assault on her son, the case was expedited. Instead of testifying Thursday next week, both Renee’s grandparents and the Silverstein and Company insisted that the date be moved up, and somehow, they managed to get the case to be heard on Friday of the same week. 

Renee attaches himself staunchly to Marinette and Damian at the trial. After they visited him at the DeVries house last week, Renee never stopped talking about the best big brother he could hope for. Now, after he has seen his mother launch herself at his Nonna and Nonno, he only has his grandparents and the two of them.

Monsieur and Madam DeVries take this in stride. They are thankful that they helped in getting Renee away from his mother and supportive of Renee forming an attachment to the two of them.

“Damian,” Renee asks when his Maman is on the stand, “Is Maman a bad person?”

Damian is not sure how to answer this. He is no expert on people and his experience with parents is limited and unusual. His mother is an ambitious assassin who raised him to be cold-hearted and brutish. There is little love lost between the two of them. Still, Damian can’t bring himself to think of his mother as a bad person. A villain, maybe, but she had her moments--as brief and few as they were-- of kindness. As far as Damian can tell, Talia really thinks she is doing right by the world. All she wants to do is make the world a better place, though how she goes about doing that is... less than savory.

He shoots a look at Marinette. She shrugs and says, “Just tell him what you’re thinking.”

“People aren’t bad.” The words feel shaky on his tongue. Talia and Bruce both have very different ideology that they’ve espoused to him, but neither feels right to say to Renee. It’s weird to say there are no bad people in the world, when he is a vigilante who fights villains on a daily basis. To say that people like the Joker are not bad, when he has so much blood on his hands. He looks at Marinette, and she’s giving him an encouraging smile. It makes him feel like he’s saying the right thing. “Misguided and twisted, yes. There are also people who are bad for you.  Their decisions and actions can be bad, and they can be hurtful.”

Marinette smiles, and it makes Damian feel good. He’s never really expressed his feelings on the dichotomy of people being good or bad, but he thinks about it often enough. His siblings and father all have pretty varying views on the matter, so he can’t claim that he is right, but if Marinette agrees with him, he can’t be all that wrong. 

If this view isn’t wrong, perhaps he’s needs to reevaluate his relationships with the people surrounding him, and his feelings towards himself. Dick has tried for a very long time to make Damian believe that he is not a bad person, but Damian has never really believed him. Dick says Damian was just misguided in his youth, following the instructions of someone who should have known better. That so long as Damian tries to be a better person and do better things, that he will be a good person.

Being a good person has never sounded right to Damian. He knows that his hands have taken lives and if he’s being honest, he’s not that unwilling to take more. Father believes killing people is a bad thing and refuses to do it. When Todd went off on his own and killed people, Father said it was unacceptable, and that it didn’t matter that the people he killsed were doing bad things. Thus, if Damian killed in the past, Dick’s logic simply doesn’t make sense. He cannot redeem himself from the lives he has taken; they cannot magically resurrect themselves. 

But if people aren’t good or bad and only their actions are, then maybe Damian is a hero, as Dick has continually tried to convince him. He has faced consequences for his past actions, and though he’s not sure that the consequences will ever be enough, the decisions he makes now are better. As Robin, he goes out of his way to help people. As Damian, he ocassionally tries to mediate.

“Still, even if people aren’t good or bad,” Marinette whispers into Renee’s ear and squeezes his hand, “That doesn’t mean you have to be with them. If they’ve hurt you, it’s your right to avoid them, and you shouldn’t feel bad for doing that.”

Celia shivers on the stand and the few times that she brings herself to look at Renee, Marinette can see the beginnings of remorse on her face. Realization and remorse are the first steps to change. There is a future out there that will let Renee and Celia be together again, though Marinette personally doubts that it will ever happen. 

After the trial, Renee is released to the custody of Monsieur and Madame DeVries, and Celiaa is sentenced to 14 years in jail, with a possibility of parole in 7 years. Many of the scandals th Silverstein company has under their belt was pushed onto Celia. Marinette can’t say she’s pleased with that, but it’s not as though she’s willing to fight for a shorter jail sentence for this woman.

The five of them go out to celebrate the result of the trial filled with quiet joy.

#

One week after the trial, three since Damian arrived in Paris, and Marinette and Damian are engaged in a wrestling match in Marinette’s living room. 

“Come on Marinette, don’t be such a sore loser.”

Marinette finally manages to flip and pin Damian onto the ground. “I would not have lost if you didn’t knock the controller out of my hands with thirty seconds to go!”

“That was just poor strategy on your part. You could have knocked my controller away too, instead of chasing after yours.” It’s surprisingly difficult for Damian to get himself out from under Marinette, and it’s even harder for him to flip her back and cage her. “Besides, it’s not my fault that you have such sweaty hands. Should keep a better grip, Pigtails.”

Marinette sputters. “Don’t insult my hairstyle choices!”

“I wasn’t insulting them. It’s a--” nickname. But Damian doesn’t give people he’s not close to nicknames. When he doesn’t know someone’s name, or doesn’t care for them, he calls them by distinguishing features. But Damian knows Marinette’s name and thinks that she’s a decent person. The way Pigtails rolled off of Damian’s tongue feels more like an endearment than anything else. He thinks that her pigtails are pretty cute, after all. They fit her childish persona when she is relaxed. 

Sabine comes up the steps from the boulangerie and smiles at the two of them. 

“You two are getting along well,” she says so nonchalantly that Damian feels a flush growing. He lets his weight off of Marinette, and she bounds up, onto her mother’s arm.

“Maman, tell Damian that my pigtails are great. He’s insulting them!”

Sabine smiles lovingly at her daughter and shakes one of the pigtails with her hand. “Definitely the tails of one very cute pig.”

“Maman, you can’t call me a pig. I’m your daughter.”

“I said a very cute pig.” Sabine looks at Damian and winks, and his flush grows even more. “Now isn’t it about time for the two of you to go back to school?”

Marinette groans. “Don’t remind me. Madame Mendeleev is going to give a physics test today.”

She grabs another pastry and her bag before kissing her Maman and heading out to the streets with Damian.

“Bye Maman, we’ll see you after we go visit Renee!”

“Bye, Sabine.” Damian inclines his head as Marinette’s mother waved them goodbye from behind the bakery counter.

It’s nice being friends with Marinette. The days go by quickly, and there’s rarely a dull moment. Somehow, the two of them kept meeting each other after akuma attacks, and between all of their accidental run-ins and their scheduled visits with Renee, Damian finds that he’s more often in the presence of Marinette Dupain-Cheng than he is alone. 

At first, Marinette is prickly, but after Lila spreads the lie that he doesn’t speak French well and feels anxious when in big groups, and oh, did she mention that he wants to leave and not be friends with any of them, the class doesn’t really bother with him much. She’s much more willing to be around him once that occurs.

Surprisingly, what Lila said isn’t even that much of a lie. He wants-- or at least wanted-- to leave Paris because he thought that Hawkmoth wasn’t that big of a deal. He certainly doesn’t want to befriend anyone who is imbecilic enough to believe Lila. His French is a little bit rusty, but it’s definitely passable. 

Now that Lila is not constantly trying to hold Damian’s forearm, he relaxes a lot. Marinette is a calming, level-headed person who balances out Damian’s doom and gloom with cheer and optimism. She’s good at catching him up on the classwork, though not the best ad science, and is a responsible person that Damian trusts with most things.

Lately, he’s been thinking of trusting her a little more and fishing for information on Hawkmoth, Chat Noir, and Ladybug. For some reason, Damian thinks that she will be a very good source of information if he approaches it the right way. 

He aces the physics test. It’s a good day.

#

They’re walking back to Tom & Sabine’s Boulangerie  when they come across Nicolette, the girl Marinette saved from Fraser. 

“Marinette! Damian! I’m so glad I ran into you two. I never got a chance to thank you guys for saving me.” Nicolette looks infinitely happier than when they had first met her. She’s so different than when Damian first met her. He’s never been good at reconciling people in extreme situations of stress with how they are normally, so Damian supposes this is just par for the course. 

“Can I get you guys coffee? It’s really such a relief that Fraser’s finally off my back. He was hounding me for a long time.” Nicolette’s voice trails off towards the end. She’s ashamed.

“I’m free. I’d love to have coffee with you. Damian?” 

Damian doesn’t have any real reason to refuse. Research on Hawkmoth is important, but he’s hit a dead end as of late, and stressing about the lack of information-- Damian curses magic, for the umpteenth time-- will do nothing. It doesn’t help that he can hear his older brothers in his head, telling him that he needs to get a life. 

“How’s your new job going?” Marinette falls into conversation with the girl, and the two of them manage to drag him into the conversation as well. Having a rapport with someone he barely knows is unusual, but surprisingly pleasant. There’s no need to go into depth over things he doesn’t care for, and anything that a party doesn’t seem interested in or doesn’t like is glossed over immediately. 

Perhaps his brothers are right, and Damian does need to get a few more friends his age. 

“My boss says that if I keep performing the way I am, I’ll get a promotion before the end of the year! Can you believe that?” 

“That’s amazing! I’m so happy for you. And your coworkers?”

“They’re pretty amazing. I’m so glad that I decided to work for Dior instead of Silverstein and Company. Silverstein was what really sent Fraser off, and they’re not even in fashion. They’re in real estate or something. Dior always reminds me how valued I am, and that’s something I really needed after dealing with Fraser for so long.” Nicolette looks around the cafe and lowers her voice. “There’s not a lot of information out about it in the media yet, but I’ve heard that Silverstein is going to be in pretty hot water soon; someone high up in their Paris branch really messed up. Apparently she was doing all sorts of illegal things under the table, and let a lot of those who were under her get away with the same thing.” 

Marinette and Damian exchange looks. They know exactly who she’s talking about, but they come to the joint decision that they don’t need to talk about it. Because talking about how they know means talking about Renee. And even though Nicolette is friendly, there is no reason to expose another person’s life story. Especially not when they’re as vulnerable as Renee is. Marinette gently redirects the conversation back to fashion.

“Oh, I love Dior! Their ready to wear line was to die for this year.”

“Definitely, a lot of my friends like Gabriel better, but I simply adore the way that Dior emphasizes femininity. I don’t think that women need to emulate men in their fashion; we’re amazing the way we are, and should be appreciated.” Nicolette looks Marinette up and down. “Speaking of, I love your outfit. It doesn’t look like it’s something from a ready-made store.”  

“I like to design my own clothes from time to time,” Marinette waves off the compliment. “Both Gabriel and Dior’s original missions are founded on principles that I greatly admire, though I have to admit that I’ve had some personal run-ins with Monsieur Agreste that have reflected poorly on his recent choices, and I am no longer the biggest fan of his work. It’s sad that he’s deviated so much from what he originally wanted to do-- give his wife and women the power to be treated as an equal.” 

Marinette isn’t exactly sure how Gabriel treats Adrien in his entirety, but what little she does know is enough for her to despise the man. For the past year, Marinette has wanted to emancipate Adrien, and that desire has only gotten stronger in the past few months. In her gut, Marinette knows her initial suspicions are correct: Gabriel has to be Hawkmoth. More recently, even their moods seem to be interconnected. Gabriel has been hounding Adrien more than usual-- more photoshoots, late nights, less correspondence with his friends, more of a diet, and those are only things that Marinette has observed. And Hawkmoth has been coming after her and Chat Noir with a vengeance. He’s released an akuma every single day for the past month, and it’s taxing on her, though Marinette can’t say that his newest strategy is any weirder than the other ones he’s been trying out during the past half year. At least the akumas aren’t that strong, but it’s worrying because Chat Noir feels more obligated to come out to at least half of the akuma battles, and it’s clear that he’s too tired and too busy to do so. 

“What about you, Damian? Do you have a favorite courtiere?” Marinette smiles sheepishly. They’re talking about fashion, and she’s not sure that he enjoys the subject all that much.

“I don’t know much about fashion, but all my brothers can talk about is this new designer that’s been working with Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale. They’re completely obsessed, but I can’t remember the name.” Damian thinks the designer’s name had an M in it, but he’s not sure.

“Oh, MDC! They’re so elusive, but their designs are stunning. I’d love to work with them, if I ever get a chance. It’s a pity that they’re so secretive.” Nicolette whips out her phone. “I have a whole file on all of the designs that they’ve released so far. They have a great eye for color, and their construction is flawless. I even have a few designs that they haven’t claimed, but I’m pretty sure they made it. All of them have a pretty distinctive--”

Nicolette narrows her eyes. “Wait.”

Marinette looks down at her cup, and then back up into Nicolette’s, calm and steady. “I love MDC too. Since I’m an aspiring designer, I reference everything she makes pretty often. I based my jacket off the one she made for Clara, with a little bit of Dior Spring 2017 for flair.”

“No. Way.” Nicolette’s eyes set themselves on the lapel of her blazer. “No, no, no, there’s no way.”

Damian raises an eyebrow, looks at Marinette and then Nicolette. Nicolette’s mouth hangs slightly ajar while Marinette holds her cup of coffee. He feels like he’s missing something here, but he’s not exactly sure what. MDC. Marinette. MDC. Marinette. 

He pauses. What is Marinette’s last name again? He thinks he’s heard it at least once before-- must have, because they needed to state their full name for the court records-- but what?

Nicolette squeals and takes Marinette’s hands. Still, she knows when to keep things a secret; since Marinette hasn’t revealed her identity yet, there must be a reason why she wants to keep it a secret. Marinette saved her, so there’s no way that Nicolette is going to betray her trust. Plus, this might give Nicolette a huge break if she plays her cards right.

Apparently, Nicolette deems Damian either to be nobody important, or somebody who’s already in confidence with this secret that Marinette is keeping, so she lowers her voice just enough so that the three at the table can hear. “I cannot believe that I’ve met you. I can’t believe that you saved me! Do you know how kickass that is? Half of the designers who are working for us look like they’re fragile enough to blow away if one more needle stabs them. Oh my god. I can’t believe this. This is one of the best days of my life.”

For her part, Marinette looks confused, with an underlying current of either amusement and possibly anxiety. “They are pretty new to the industry. It’s rare to meet another fan!”

“Don’t play me like that. I got my job for a reason. I was one of the top scorers in business school and might have been hired for my background in technology, but the reason why I had an emphasis on fashion is because I am obsessed with couture. And when I get obsessed, it’s pretty easy for me to see when it’s one of my favorite designer’s styles.”

“Thanks for thinking that I copied them so well!” Marinette smiles, and Damian almost doesn’t catch the hint of tension in her shoulders. “I do have a lot of free time on my hands though. High school student and all.”

Marinette has learned to lie very well. After years of hiding life-altering secrets, she has to be. There’s a lot riding on her ability to keep silent. Paris, for example.

Unfortunately for her, the two people at the table aren’t fooled by her act. Damian pieces it together from context clues and a quick glance in his contact list, where Marinette is listed as “Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” Nicolette, on the other hand, is very well versed in MDC’s past designs, and also has the conviction to follow through with her beliefs.

Marinette’s denial of her alter-ego is not outlandish. She’s a teenage girl, and perhaps not ready to face the media storm that would come after outing herself to the public. So Nicolette drops the issue, and Damian doesn’t comment. She hums, pulls out a business card and says, “Well, your construction on your blazer is much better than we see with interns usually. If you’re ever interested in coming to Dior, just shoot me a message. I’d be glad to give you a referral or help in any way. It’s the least I can do.”

“Wow, that’s amazing! I’m not sure, but I’m thinking of trying to intern this summer.” Marinette isn’t sure that she can, what with her duties as Ladybug that will inevitably pull her away from her internship and will not reflect well on her work ethic (she really needs to take down Hawkmoth before she gets into college, or at least before she gets into the working world), but it would be nice to intern for one of the biggest fashion companies. And honestly, after knowing how awfully Gabriel treats his own son, she’s not sure she wants to find out how he treats his interns.

“Please Marinette,” Nicolette says, eyes twinkling. “With your skills, I can land you more than an intern position. But it was nice catching up. We should do this again, sometime.”

“It was nice,” Damian says, and he finds that he means it. More than nice, actually. Damian knows more about Marinette now, and he’s sure that there’s even more for him to discover. She certainly keeps things interesting, that’s for sure.

“Definitely.”

#

“Eugh. Damian, would you please throw out that shirt of yours?” Marinette wrinkles her nose. “Mustard yellow is not your shade. How is it that the one colored shirt that you have in your wardrobe is also the ugliest thing you own?”

Since they now see each other on an almost daily basis and Marinette’s proclivity for fashion has been outed, she voices her distaste with Damian’s limited fashion sense more often than not. The boy knows how to work a good black t-shirt and jeans, but not much else. She asked him if he was trying to go for the emo look, yesterday, and when he said no, she demanded that he wear something with color the following day, So, Damian flipped through the clothes that he brought with him to France, and found that the only colored clothing he brought was a t-shirt he doesn’t even remember packing.

“I’m wearing something colorful,” he says. “You told me to.”

“If I knew that this was the only thing that you owned in color, I would have gladly let you remain in your emo phase.” Marinette sighs. “Now that I know this is your only option and that you are not an emo, I have no choice.”

In the time that has passed since the two of them met with Nicolette, Marinette has not acknowledged the elephant in the room. She has said nothing of her relation to MDC, but it’s not hard to figure it out. Damian spent the night after they met up with Nicolette looking at a collection of all the things that MDC has designed and found a very distinctive logo sewn into each. This logo is also found on all of the things that are up in Marinette’s room, but he hasn’t mentioned it. Thus, the two of them pretend that she is just an aspiring designer, rather than one who already has high-end clientele.

With a dramatic swoon and an intake of breath, Marinette says, “I suppose I must help you with your wardrobe. The reformation of one Damian Grayson has now been entrusted to me, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

The mention of Damian’s fake last name makes him bristle more than the jab at his clothing colors. 

“My wardrobe is fine. I don’t see anybody else complaining.”

“Damian. You interact with maybe five people on a regular basis in Paris. Renee doesn’t think you can do a single bad thing in the world, and his Nonna and Nonno aren’t going to say anything about your fashion choices. The barista at the cafe is head over heels for you and clearly doesn’t think about anything but your pretty eyes and the muscles under your t-shirt. Maman and Papa just think that you’re a teenager who doesn’t have more than one outfit, and that you’re possibly emo.” Marinette pauses. “You do have more than one outfit, right?”

Damian scoffs. He may not know fashion, but he can certainly afford more than one outfit. Still, Marinette doesn’t know much about him in terms of family or finance. They’ve kept everything very surface level, though he’s sure that she has her own assumptions. He has his own about her, though he does have more information to work with. He can’t shake the feeling that he’s missing something big, though. The way they keep meeting up after akumas and the way she’s able to take people down so easily when Damian knows that she doesn’t actually go to the martial arts class down the street from Francois Dupont. But every time he tries to think about it for too long, something else draws his attention. His train of thought always slips away.

“Don’t you scoff at me young man. I am now obligated to help you, you poor, misguided soul. I am going to dress you to impress.” Her grin broadens. “I bet that I can get that barista to ask you on a date. What would you prefer; for her to leave her number on a cup, for her to silently drool over you, or for her to try to work up the nerve to ask you out directly?”

“I don’t want her to ask me out at all.” He leans back onto the armrest of the sofa and assesses her.

“Come on, Damian. You need to make more friends. Go out. Live a little!”

“This, coming from you,” Damian says amusedly. Marinette and his brothers would get along splendidly, if they ever met. Not that they will.

Marinette huffs. “I certainly have more friends than you, and I definitely interact with way more people than you do.”

“That’s what you get for working in customer service. And also for having some sort of moral obligation to save the world.”

At this, Marinette almost stutters. Her mind instantly goes to Ladybug. But Damian can’t know. All of the times that she’s seen him on scene after an akuma attack, they were all coincidences. They have to be.

“I don’t know why you feel the need to save everyone and their uncle from stalkers and continue to intervene in random street fights, but where I’m from, that certainly doesn’t happen very often.”

Oh. Oh, he is talking about her civilian form. He doesn’t know. It’s fine.

“Funny, because you always seem to step in to help whenever you see me.” Marinette frowns. “Say, where are you from, anyways? I know you’re from America, which explains why you have such horrible fashion sense, but where?” Marinette cracks a smile, thinking of Damian in American stereotypes. 

“So what was it? A surfer? A cowboy? Oh my god, a skater boy,” she cackles. She can totally see it. The slightly rebellious slightly punk combo. There’s no way that Damian wasn’t a skater boy back in the states.

Damian looks insulted. “I was not a skater boy. If you must know, I’m from Gotham.”

Is that too much information? He regrets it almost as soon as the words are out of his mouth, but he has gotten too relaxed in her presence. That isn’t good. He can’t let things slip like that. He should have redirected her, let him think that he was from New York, or that he was a skater boy. If Marinette decides to look up Damian and Gotham, there are a good number of photos of him alongside his real last name. Then she’ll wonder why he lied to begin with. That will be bad. That can’t happen.

She considers him. “You’ve really got it rough, don’t you? Moving from one crime infested city to the next. Gotham’s worse, though. At least here, we’ve only got two overpowered villains and a bunch of victims. Over there… the likes of the Joker and Two-Face? They hurt people, and there’s no Miraculous Cure from Ladybug to fix the damage they’ve done. Honestly, I’m surprised that you don’t avoid danger at every turn.”

Gothamites do tend to avoid danger much more than their Parisian counterparts. Gothamites walk with purpose and are rarely out on the streets longer than they absolutely have to be; they’re a smart bunch, who don’t want to get involved if they don’t have to. Most people keep their cards close to their chest, and don’t let people know that they care. 

Damian doesn’t think it’s bad, though he does have to admit that Paris is less dangerous. Frustrating, because he can’t do much when a situation arises, but it’s almost nice how normal he feels in Paris. That’s something he hasn’t gotten to experience much of, and while the first few days were weird, he’s settled into a sort of routine. He gets along with Marinette a hell of a lot better than any of his classmates back in Gotham, except for maybe Kent, but he and Kent rarely see each other during school hours.

Marinette breezes back to talking about fashion, almost as if she knows that she’s getting into territory that neither of them are quite ready to go into, and Damian gladly accepts it.

She claps her hands and says, “We’re going shopping. Let’s get you a wardrobe that makes your loved ones proud.”

It doesn’t escape Damian’s notice that she says loved ones instead of parents, and wonders if she knows more than he thinks she does. He wonders if she already knows that he’s Damian Wayne. Somehow, he doubts that she knows or cares that he is the son of an American billionaire with mommy issues. But it does feel good to have someone that doesn’t assume things about the state of his family. She’s been incredibly noninvasive and patient, backing off as soon as she thinks there’s a possible limit if he ever says more than he means to. Damian wonders if this courtesy is because she doesn’t want her own secrets to get out. It doesn’t matter, whatever the reason. 

He’s glad for it.

#

They’re in her bedroom.

Damian lies on her chaise, tossing a stress ball that he finds on her desk. Marinette sits in her rolling chair, working on a commission. 

“Ever thought of opening up a website?” Marinette’s room is nice. It has a feminine charm to it, but nothing overwhelming. Very different from Barbara’s chaotically organized room that has cold cases and theories lying around on every open surface and Cassandra’s weapon filled one. 

Marinette hums. “I’ve thought about it. I don’t know if I want to. I don’t really have the technical expertise to make it happen.”

“You’ve got Nicolette. I wouldn’t be opposed to helping you with the technological aspect, either.”

At her desk, Marinette’s hands still. “The commissions I get just from word of mouth are pretty amazing. They’re also pretty time consuming.”

Damian can’t tell if he’s pushing too hard. If she’s uncomfortable with what he’s saying. Not for the first time since he’s been around Marinette, Damian wishes that he could read people better.

“But you want to be a fashion designer. You can only do so much with word of mouth.”

“I’ve got plenty of time,” Marinette counters. “I’ve got years before I can even think about making it big.”

This… annoys him for some reason. Marinette doesn’t have to wait for years before making a splash in the fashion industry. She already is. And she can make an even bigger one if she just makes a way for people to contact her reliably. 

He sits up. “You are perfectly capable of achieving your dreams now.Why are you putting what you’re passionate about on hold? It makes little sense to limit yourself when there are celebrities around the world vying for a piece of yours. Even my brothers like your designs, and it’s difficult to catch their attention.”

Briefly, Damian wonders if his words would mean more to her if she knew he is a Wayne. That his brothers are Waynes-- the impossible to please, highly irritable Waynes. He shakes away the thought. Thanks to her everyday hero attitude, she’s gotten to meet a surprising amount of famous people or people on their way to fame, and she treats them no differently when she finds out. 

What goes on inside the brain of Marinette is far beyond him. Every time he thinks he has her pegged, she does something that makes his assumptions wrong. It’s frustrating how little he knows about her when he is supposed to be one of the world’s greatest detectives. The one thing that doesn’t change, the only common thread that he can follow is that Marinette cares for people far better than most care for themselves. 

It’s only been one month, but Marinette is passionate about everything she does, from helping out her parents at the bakery to all of the random acts of kindness she does around town. The good will she shows people on the streets, whether they’re down on their luck that day or are going through a rough patch is unconventional and awe-inspiring. Anyone she meets who’s in a really bad situation is immediately swept up into endless love and affection and she always continues to meet up with them when they need it. If she comes across a situation where she can help,Marinette always follows through. She drops everything for complete strangers that she meets. 

So why can’t she take a stab at her own dreams?

“I don’t have time,” Marinette manages. Damian doesn’t think that he’s seen her breathe since they’ve started this conversation. 

“Marinette. Look at me.” 

She turns to him, eyes downcast and mind clearly elsewhere. 

“Marinette.”

She looks at him. Damian is taken aback at the kind of blue her eyes are. Layers of different shades of blue with flecks that almost look silver surrounding her pupil. Even her eyes have freckles. 

“You need to make the time.” And then, she looks so helpless, her eyes full of regret and confusion and anxiousness.

Damian wants to do something. With his hands, or feet, or something. He wants to move, he wants to hold her. He settles for running a hand through his hair, a highly unusual action. He likes his hair neat and doesn’t like tics. They make him feel weak. But if running his hand through his hair can stop him from reaching out to Marinette-- for what, Damian thinks, a hug?--then he’ll do it. 

“I’m busy, Damian,” she says plaintively, like she’s begging him to believe her.

Why, though? Damian doesn’t understand. Why can’t she just make a website? God knows his brothers would be all over it. The only reason Tim hasn’t figured out her identity is because he respects the fact that MDC clearly does not want to go public. He’s been trying to hunt down an alternate way to get an MDC commission for months now and has only just stopped short of reaching out to Jagged himself. Damian doesn’t understand why he feels so frustrated at her lack of effort, either. He’s seen plenty of people around him in Gotham give up on their dreams in favor of more practical ways of life. People he knew that were talented and could make it, and he never, ever pushed them. Because it was their life. Their decisions. So why?

Why does it hurt so much when Marinette doesn’t follow her dreams?

“I see. Then if you’re so busy, maybe I should stop taking up your time.” The words taste like blood in his mouth. What is he doing? Being with Marinette makes him feel good. Like he’s worthy of being Bruce Wayne’s blood son and that he’s a good brother. Why should he give that up just because Marinette doesn’t want to grow up?

He drops through the trap door and closes it behind him. He goes back to the apartment his father bought him for his stay in Paris. It is empty, cold, and impersonal. For the first time since he’s met Marinette, Damian desperately wishes that the Justice League would give him permission to be Robin.

#

2:02 AM | Marinette: Damian?

Marinette: hey im sorry for

Marinette: honestly i don’t even know i

2:06 AM | Marinette: will you help me make a website?

2:10 AM | Damian: ok

Damian: i’ll come over tomorrow after school?

2:12 AM | Marinette: yeah

Marinette: that sounds good

3:30 AM | Marinette: im sorry i don’t really know what for but i’m sorry

Marinette: i felt really horrible

Marinette: im sorry

3:37 AM | Damian: you need to learn how to take care of yourself before you take care of others

Damian: please.

[geekgirles]

Adrien Protection Squad

So, I as said the other day, I got inspired by @juhavs ‘s post and I decided to write a fic (currently a one-shot, maybe I’ll write more chapters with time) about the guys and Marinette teaming up to keep Adrien away and safe from Lila and her clingy tendencies. By the way, this fic has some ships and mention of ships because… Well, I’m a shipper first and a person second, I have no excuse other than that. But please, do respect the ships that appear and don’t throw hate at me for them, that’s all I ask for. Also, a huge thank you to my beta @ren-sauce!!

@teresarosiadeviluke2112 @tressa-rose @kamihime @souleateralicestein I think you guys wanted to read it, please enjoy ;)

Nino kept staring at the picture in his phone. He still didn’t understand what happened; the very same day the photo was sent, the girl appearing in it had assured him she felt no romantic feelings for his best friend, also in the image, and yet, there she was, taking a selfie of her kissing his cheek.

As for Adrien, he was smiling. But it was a hesitant smile, forced, as if he’d just found himself in a trap. No matter the circumstances, it felt wrong. And the worst part? Nino was pretty sure it’d been his fault. Like he shouldn’t have trusted Lila in the first place.

As he let his mind question everything that might’ve led to that, Kim, Ivan and Max were getting closer to him, chatting amicably until they noticed the DJ’s sullen expression.

“Dude”, Kim broke the silence, “what’s got you so down? You’re practically making a hole to your cell phone by looking so hard.” When Nino showed them the picture their eyes widened. “Wait, Adrien and Lila are a thing? Why doesn’t anybody ever tell us anything?!”

“No, Kim, they’re not. But I can’t help but feel this whole deal is my fault, dudes…” Nino lamented, shielding his face with his hands and sighing tiredly.

“What do you mean “your fault”?” asked Ivan.

And so, Nino told them everything. From the part when he found Lila walking to school looking sad about not being able to go with her mother abroad because she had to catch up on schoolwork, to the part he’d received a photo of her kissing Adrien after he’d set them up to help her with homework because she had sworn she wasn’t in love with the model. 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think she lied to me!” Nino said.

“Now, now, let’s not accuse people of things we don’t know about.” Max defended, as he adjusted his glasses “It is highly unlikely of Lila to lie about something, especially when it comes to her feelings and grades. Besides, there’s always a logical explanation.”

“I don’t know, dude. Adrien does act like he prefers to be away from Lila for some reason.” The model’s best friend remembered, still not sure of what to think or do. “Just the other day, when Lila came, he eagerly took me aside to study for the exam we were taking that day.”

“I think we need a third-no wait, we’re already four-, a fifth person’s opinion. But who could know about what’s going on with Lila and Adrien, though?” The athlete of the group wondered.

“We could always go to the Liberty and ask Marinette.” suggested Ivan. “She said she’d meet Luka and I there today to prepare for Kitty Section’s next show, since Juleka and Rose had to run some errands.”

The boys exchanged a look. It was undeniable that Marinette was one of Adrien’s closest friends too, and she obviously cared a lot for him, in love with him or not, but she also didn’t think highly of Lila, so, perhaps, her opinion wouldn’t be the most objective one. 

As the guys pondered their options, Nino furrowed his brow. Marinette had exclusively told him and Alya she’d followed the both of them on Lila’s first day of school, claiming that event verified her suspicions of the girl being dishonest about her accomplishments. However, as crazy or wrong as it looked like when she first told them, now her words didn’t sound half as absurd as they did then.

While the others were arguing about which course of action to take, the DJ spoke up, “Guys, let’s go talk to Marinette.”

The young designer had, ironically, found herself an oasis of peace and calm in the chaotic boat belonging to the Couffaine family. Whilst she didn’t spend nearly as much of her time there as the members of the band did, she certainly enjoyed herself whenever she visited. Those visits allowed her to see the most passionate and creative side of her quietest classmates, and, if that wasn’t wonderfully touching enough, she could be a part of it by creating their outfits or recording their sessions. 

It was, in general, a nice, soothing environment she cherished dearly.

At that moment, she was spending some alone time with the blue-haired guitarist of the band, which made her heart beat a little faster and her cheeks feel a little hotter than usual. Marinette was sketching some of her latest ideas for the band’s next costumes, while she listened to Juleka’s brother playing a sweet tune with his guitar.

It was an odd experience, being alone with Luka. But in the good way. While the guitarist had a knack for making her lose her head, she wasn’t nearly as nervous nor stuttered half as much as she did around Adrien, making every single moment they spent together much more precious for her. Still, it was too soon to tell if she could move on from Adrien with him; on the one hand, the model seemed to be getting closer to Kagami every passing day, but on the other, he still found his way to her heart; be it a gentle smile, or a reassuring, well-meaning gesture. It didn’t matter, one of those and she was a goner.

As the pair of teenagers minded their own business, they were suddenly surrounded by the guys, startling them. Curiously enough, they all looked rather bashful, and even hesitant to even be there.

Leaving the weirdness of the scenery aside, Marinette greeted them nonetheless. “Um… Hi, guys! Did Ivan invite you all to come see the rehearsal?”

“Uh, no, actually.” Nino began, feeling nervous about the whole situation. Never mind that, though, they needed to know if his bro needed help or not. “We wanted to ask you which is your opinion of Lila and Adrien, Marinette.”

The baker’s daughter was taken aback. Did anything happen that she didn’t know of? 

Oh, no! Did Lila lie about me? Wait, even worse! Did she lie about her relationship with Adrien again!? Ugh, that brat!

The group of boys waited, anxious, except for Luka, who was just merely curious about the unexpected turn of events. Depending on Marinette’s answer they may have to come up with methods of protecting Adrien without being rude to the new girl, she likely didn’t deserve to be excluded. Right?

Finally, the designer spoke, mirth completely gone. “Whatever Lila’s told you about me, or her “relationship” with Adrien, is a lie. Don’t listen to her.”

That answer surprised everyone present; there surely had to be something going on for Marinette to reply like that before anything else!

“Marinette,” Kim tried to calm her down, “she hasn’t said anything about you or Adrien, but…”

“But?” Marinette arched an eyebrow.

“But, apparently, despite telling Nino she didn’t have a crush on Adrien, she sent a selfie where she was kissing him on the cheek. And Adrien… he doesn’t look particularly comfortable about it. What can you tell us about that?” Max completed for his friend.

If Marinette was suspicious before, now she was fuming. Kissing Adrien! On the cheek! And sending the picture! Without his permission! After telling Nino she didn’t see him as a potential boyfriend!? That… That was low, that was underhanded, that was vile, that-that was… Something Lila would do without batting an eyelash.

Despite all the scorn and rage she was feeling towards the brunette, Marinette managed to remain relatively calm. “The answer’s easy: Lila lied about not liking Adrien.” She said as she watched her friends’ eyes widen and their jaws slightly drop.

The boys exchanged nervous glances, the noirette had been a lot more blunt than they’d expected, even the blue-haired musician was slightly taken aback. Max, however, despite being the most rational person present, insisted on giving the Italian girl the benefit of the doubt. Probably because she’d promised him she’d take him with her to see the particle accelerator. 

“Marinette, we understand if, for whatever reason, you dislike Lila. But you shouldn’t accuse her of deceiving Nino so easily, perhaps, she kissed Adrien as a way of saying “thank you”, we don’t know if that’s just an Italian custom we do not share. 

“Not to mention, if you’re saying she lied about something like that, you are lowkey implying she has been dishonest about everything else. Which is highly unlikely because we’ve seen Chloé doing far more impressive things thanks to her father’s connections, so maybe- Marinette, did you just throw a napkin at my face?”

“Yup” she replied as nonchalantly as possible. “Why? Did it hurt you?”

“Of course not!” The young genius replied, obviously offended. “I am aware I’m not the most physically adept specimen there is, but do you really take me for such a weakling?”

“I don’t know, ask Lila. She’s the one who “saved” you from the napkin I’d thrown at her.”

Then, everyone present but Marinette and Luka froze. They’d all seen that interaction between the two girls, except for Ivan, but Mylène’d told him. It was true, Lila said she only caught the ball with her sprained wrist because she’d learned it could’ve hurt him.

But the evidence was clear as daylight now, Marinette hadn’t even directed the ball at Max, her objective always being the new girl; the napkin the designer did throw at him a few seconds back had only bounced off the moment it hit his glasses, he wore glasses, and, if that wasn’t already prove enough, Lila only complained about her wrist after Marinette had called her out on her acting.

Meaning…

“She lied about her sprained wrist just so she could get her food without even doing the minimal effort!” The group’s athlete snapped.

“How devious of her!” Max continued. “To use someone’s good will to her advantage like that! And to think I let her play us like a fiddle… All the facts were there!”

“But this means she’s also been lying to the girls too!” Ivan commented, clearly concerned about his girlfriend being lied to. Mylène was such a sweet, wonderful girl, she didn’t deserve such treatment, no one did.

As his friends kept trying to process the new information, Nino went back to the conversation Marinette had had with his girlfriend and him mere moments before the aforementioned incident took place, Marinette’s story replaying in his mind.

“So…” The DJ started “You’ve actually known about this since you followed her?”

“Wait, you actually followed her?” This time, it was Luka who’d asked, having remained quiet for the entire conversation.

Somehow, it wasn’t a question, more like a statement. But, deep down, the girl knew she’d have to fess up about everything if the boys were going to try and protect the boy she loved from that brat’s claws. Well, not everything. She still couldn’t tell them about her secret identity. Especially since everyone but Ivan were superheroes too.

So, mustering as much courage as possible, she nodded

“Yeah, listen guys, I’m not proud of what I did, but I don’t regret it either.” She began to explain, as best yet vaguely as possible. “I have to admit I followed them twice on Lila’s first day. My reasons definitely changed from one time to the other, but you must know, at the end of the day, it was worth it; thanks to that, I figured out what kind of person Lila Rossi truly is.

“The first time, I… I was actually jealous of how close she’d gotten with Adrien and I- I just panicked! But, guys, please believe me; deep down, I knew there was something off about her. So, I got inside the library with them. At first, it was just small talk, until Lila spotted a drawing of what looked like an ancient Ladybug in a book Adrien took out from his bag. The moment he showed the slightest interest in the superheroine her entire demeanor changed: she got closer to him, said something about girls not needing costumes to be amazing or whatever and, only then did she mention her “friendship” with Ladybug. 

“And listen carefully, because this was the first sign of Lila being far from angelic as she lets on, after they’d agreed on meeting at the park, Adrien’s bag with all its contents fell to the floor. From where I was, I could see how Lila used her foot to hide Adrien’s book-the one with the superheroes-behind her. The girl was a liar and a thief! That’s when my reason to follow her changed, I just had to know why she needed his book for. 

“So, that’s what I did. On her way to the park she stopped by a jewelry store and bought a necklace. Once in the park, she took the book out and put on the necklace, but the moment she saw Adrien approaching, that brat threw the book into the trash can!” Marinette could definitely feel Max’s horror at that particular scene, what kind of idiot doesn’t know books should be treated with respect?!

“What happened next?” Nino asked, concerned and appalled by the dudette’s story.

“Then, instead of talking about her friendship with Ladybug…” Marinette could feel her veins boil at the memory. “She started bad-mouthing her, saying she wasn’t that great of a hero, only to make herself look better in front of Adrien.”

“But that is nonsense!” Max exclaimed, comprehending Lila’s train of thought was proving itself to be a far bigger challenge than he’d previously predicted. “Being Ladybug’s friend was the source of her popularity, why putting her down? That’s just too contradictory to not appear suspicious.”

“Because she claimed to be the descendant of a superhero herself; Volpina.” As time went by, the baker’s daughter was growing visibly more tired of the Italian girl’s falsehoods.

“But… doesn’t she need a miraculous to, at least, make that claim believable?” Kim arched an eyebrow, missing the point to the girl’s lie completely.

“Oh, she had something similar.” The noirette explained. “She used the necklace to convince Adrien she was the current…” She was going to both dread and enjoy saying this to Nino’s face, knowing he’d be the most irritated one by the Volpina issue. “Fox miraculous holder.”

Soon enough, as the only girl present predicted, Nino’s expression changed from concerned to infuriated. So Lila had tried to fool his best friend by impersonating his girlfriend’s secret identity!? Oh, she was going down…

“Anyways, I got confirmation about her friendship with Ladybug being nothing but another fraud the moment the heroine herself appeared and called her out on her bullshit.” She finished. It felt so right to finally tell somebody about it!

“But blatantly lying to people like that for a person’s own gain is just despicable!” Max remarked.

“Yeah, dude! She’s been faking injuries and diseases to get things from us, injuries and diseases, man! What kind of person does that?!” The young swimmer roared, outraged.

“Also… didn’t Adrien almost got homeschooled again because he’d taken and lost something that belonged to his father the next day to that?” The gentle giant of the class pointed out. “She almost got the boy she supposedly likes life ruined!”

While the boys were, once again, trying to process Lila’s true colours, Marinette felt both inspired enough and so sick of the brunette’s selfish actions that she felt it was finally time to talk about one of the darkest moments of her life. If her experience gave Nino, Ivan, Max and Kim another reason to keep Adrien away from Lila’s manipulative ways, all the more reason to share.

“What do you expect from someone who threatens to isolate those who know she’s nothing but a liar when no one’s looking?”

Once again, everybody present froze, only this time, the temperature of the ship seemed to drop. Confessing about that horrible experience had been a huge leap of faith for the noirette, the only person besides her or Little Miss Show-Off who knew of that being Tikki, the little kwami being capable of doing only so much since she herself couldn’t reveal what took place in the washrooms without jeopardising her chosen’s secret identity.

The mere memory of it all made the girl sick, how someone other than Hawk Moth could have so little respect for others or feel absolutely no remorse for their misdeeds was beyond her. Even Chloé had people she cared about, in her own way… No matter what, the feeling of incompetence she felt when she couldn’t find a way to expose Lila or, simply, wipe that smug look from her face, clung desperately to the young superheroine whenever she was feeling at her lowest. She just hoped none of the guys noticed her shaking. 

But one of them did.

“She threatened you?!”

The bloodcurdling hiss had come from no other than Luka, who, instead of his usual calm and relaxed expression, now wore a mask of pure rage and contempt, which made him look even angrier than the time Bob Roth and XY stole their music and costumes from Kitty Section. The young designer actually feared he might attract akumas.

“Yeah…” She sighed, not really feeling like sharing that particular anecdote but knowing she should anyways. “When she came back to school, after I threw the napkin at her in an attempt to prove she was lying about her wrist, which only resulted in me turning into the bad guy, she followed me to the bathroom and tried to lie her way into winning me over.” She could already feel the tears forming in her eyes, but she went on. “However, I made it very clear then that I didn’t buy a single thing that came from her mouth, which she took as a declaration of war and swore she’d make me lose all my friends if I didn’t shut up and play her game. I’d never felt so helpless in my entire life!”

At that point, tears were running freely down her face, making her even more miserable than by retelling that conversation and making the boys uncomfortable but feeling  terribly sorry for what their dudette had gone through unbeknownst to anyone.

Despite that, Luka was the one aching the most.

He looked at Marinette. If she was involved in the new student’s scheme, he would be there for her. Because, just like Adrien deserved someone who’d help him make his feelings known, so did she. There were many reasons why Marinette was special; during the time Luka had spent with her, he’d found out she was the perfect blend between endearing and badass. While being shy, clumsy and even awkward; she was also quick-witted, brave and determined. Her very own superheroine.

When it came to Adrien, the guitarist knew he was the object of her affections. Nevertheless, his own emotions wouldn’t get in the way of giving someone in need a helping hand. Never. Moreover, although it was true his crush was infatuated with the model, if their “double date” at the ice rink was anything to go by, she’d demonstrated she was the blond’s friend first and she wanted nothing but for him to be happy. 

Yes, that was Marinette. Clear and sincere like the most beautiful melody. And he, as a boy who cared deeply for her, wouldn’t be less.

As the blue-eyed teenager tried to calm down her cries, she felt comforting arms wrapping around her. Wait a minute, she recognised those arms, strong and firm, yet gentle and caring. Sure enough, she turned her head and found Luka’s aqua eyes staring back at hers.

“Marinette,” The blue haired boy started. “I think I speak for all of us when I say you shouldn’t have had to endure all that on your own, and that… we’re deeply sorry you did.” He took a deep breath that caused the pigtailed girl to wonder about the importance of what was about to be said. “I promise, just like we’re going to prevent Adrien from getting hurt or manipulated by her, we’re going to do the same for you. Am I right, boys?”

There was a chorus of agreements and Marinette couldn’t feel any more relieved. They listened to her! And they wanted to be there for her in her times of need, too! She was so happy she could begin to cry all over again. But instead, she wiped away her tears and beamed at them.

“Thank you, guys. Really, it means a lot.” She smiled at her friends. “But I myself don’t need a protection squad, I know better than to be around Lila. What I want, though, is that you stand by me every time she does manage to hurt me or make me look like the bad guy. Even if it’s in the shadows, I want to feel supported.”

“You got it!” Promised Nino.

“Yeah, it’s so unfair that you’ve got to go through this alone, man. You can count on us!” Kim gave her a thumbs up.

“Now that we are all aware of what Lila is truly capable of, she will have to step up her game if she wants to play us like a fiddle ever again.” Concluded Max.

“Even if we have to find a way to make the girls more wary of her, there’s no way we’ll let her hurt you or Adrien, Mari.” Ivan assured her.

“And… you’ll have to be crazy to think I’d let someone like her toy with my friends like that, Ma-ma-ma-Marimanette.” Luka teased, making her blush.

For the first time in months, everything felt right again. As if there’d been a dark cloud darkening her day that finally disappeared and allowed her to enjoy the sun once more. Still, there was one other issue they had to face. The group’s drummer beat her to it, though.

“So… How do we protect Adrien from Lila?”

It was a good question. The brunette had a dozen tricks up her sleeve to get whatever she desired from people, be it her usual lies or more elaborate schemes, she always found a solution to get her way with things.

“Well, I think we obviously should-”

“Don’t even think about it, Marinette.” Max interrupted her. “Even if your intentions at exposing Lila are well-meaning, she’s managed to make you look like a jealous, insecure girl who has no right nor reason to dislike her at every attempt you’ve made.” The boy genius explained, adjusting his glasses again. “And given she still has the girls to back her up, being publicly cold or aggressive to her would do us more harm than good.”

They all looked at each other. The video game enthusiast had a point: straightforwardly confronting the Italian was a bad idea. 

“Then, what about if we just call Adrien over for help or something like that whenever she starts to invade his personal space instead?” The eldest of the Couffaine siblings suggested. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t seen the way the brunette clung to the blond at whatever chance she’d get. It felt so wrong and it was so sickening to watch, more so given the boy’s look of discomfort. He failed to comprehend how on Earth anyone but Marinette had never noticed the girl’s wicked actions before.

“That… could actually work!” The DJ said. “But what could we possibly ask the dude about without putting ourselves at her level and lying?”

“We could always ask him about his schedule. Whether his free time to hang out with him, something we don’t get to do very often, or what he’s supposed to do at his daily appointments. I’m sure, with time, we could get some real time with him he’d reserved himself where he could explain to us some doubts from previous times! That’d make it less weird.” The baker girl knew that schedule she had with all her friends’ appointments and activities would come in handy someday!

“That’s a great idea! But… what are we going to do with the girls if they start asking questions? We can’t just lie to them…” Ivan asked. Of the whole squad, he and Nino were the ones who’d have the hardest time hiding anything from their girlfriends; Ivan because he was a terrible liar, and Nino because… Well, nobody could really hide a secret from the school’s most stubborn journalist.

“We’ll just tell them the truth, from their point of view; we’re trying to be more involved in Adrien’s life. Since that’s what we’ll ask him, technically, it is not a lie.” Luka answered. Marinette was pleasantly surprised, for someone who barely spent time with Adrien, he was proving himself to be a very important part of the plan. 

“Ok, now that we have a plan, we need to make some points clear. Marinette,” The DJ addressed the designer, who wasn’t sure why she was the first point that had to be dealt with. “I think it’s best if you stay out of the plan at the beginning. Lila could use that against us, saying you’re taking advantage of the situation to spend time with Adrien while she can’t.”

As much as it saddened her to admit it, Nino had a point. If people thought she had jealousy issues, that was because they’d never seen Lila’s. It wouldn’t be wise to give the girl more reasons to isolate her.

“Very well.” She agreed.

“And… I think I speak for all of us when I say I’m sorry.” Her best friend’s boyfriend apologised, looking rather ashamed. “Had we listened to you sooner none of this would’ve happened, dude. You even went as far as to warn Alya and me and we still wouldn’t believe you. And it was that what led you to being targeted by Lila, for which I truly am sorry. Do you think you could ever forgive us, dudette?”

Marinette was touched, that was an understatement. Nino had finally seen the truth and apologised for not listening to her sooner, just like all the boys’ faces showed just by looking at them. And now… Now they were willing to be there for her, to stand by her, to help her keep Adrien away from harm; that was everything she’d ever wanted, really.

“I forgive you guys. Now, come on! We have a liar to stop!”

The “Adrien Protection Squad” was a go.

[raindrop-on-a-spiderweb]

On The Street Where You Live, Part 2

This got long so I had to break it up into 3 parts. Apologies!

I'm warning you, this chapter is pretty degenerate. And has sex scenes 😥

***

Patience perused the dresses on the rack. Two girls from her high school were at the normal-priced rack, giggling and casting smug looks behind them at the girl in the ratty skirt flipping through Woolworth's discount rack. She tried to ignore them.

Too out-of-style... wrong size... too much lace... finally, when she was beginning to despair, she found a gorgeous green dress with a white sash and a ruffled bodice at the very end. It had a rip in the skirt, but that could be fixed.

She walked home, and as soon as she stepped through the door she was met by a familiar face. Leonardo was sitting on the couch, hair ruffled. His face brightened when he saw her. "What are you doing here?" She said.

Mommy came in, buttoning the front of her dress. "Did you find a prom dress, honey?"

"Yeah. It's ten dollars."

"I could have one made for you," said Leonardo. "My father and I are tailors."

The thought of Silvio with his giant sausage fingers sweating over her dress made her want to drink Drano. "It's nice of you to offer, but thanks."

Something in the air smelled fishy. Literally. Leonardo had his waistcoat (with the St.Joseph's emblem) draped over the side of the couch.

"Patience, sweetie, go get the photo album. I want to show Leo some pictures."

'Leo'?

Mommy looked happier than she had ever seen her before. Her skin was flushed and she looked at Leonardo with adoration that seemed closer to worship.

Patience reluctantly got the album out of the cabinet and Mommy flipped it open on her lap. Black-and-white photos of days gone by--days when Mommy and Daddy didn't scream or hit each other--flashed past.

"This is our wedding day," said Mommy, pointing to a photo of her and Daddy, her radiant in a long-sleeved white dress and Daddy in his army uniform. "Richard had just come back from serving in World War Two."

"My father served the war as well," said Leonardo. 

"Which side?" Said Patience, and her mom scowled at her.

"He fought for Italy. But he was never a fascist, just a patriot. When he saw how bad things were going for Italy, he switched to helping the Allies. He helped rebuild Italy. And after it was all said and done, he came here to start a new life."

Patience had a distinct feeling that some of that was bullshit, but said nothing. 

"Mrs. Winslow, you look radiant. A true Southern beauty."

Mommy giggled. "That was a long time ago."

"You are still beautiful. I know you still turn heads when you're out." He winked. "If I were your husband, I'd be too afraid of someone stealing you I'd never let you out of the house."

God, he knew how to lay it on thick. She grumped to herself as he paused over a picture of Patience. "Is that you, Pazienza?"

Patience was about eight, in a checked pinafore and her hair in braids. "Yeah. That was the church picnic, remember, Mommy?"

"I wish I had pictures like these," Leonardo said softly. "All of them are so happy and lovely. I can tell you all adore each other."

"Don't you have baby pictures?"

"Not many. We lived a rough life. Photographs were a luxury few of us could afford."

"You poor thing," said Mommy, cupping his face. Patience looked away. She hated the syrupy way Mommy spoke to him. He wasn't her son. Patience was her daughter, and she was RIGHT THERE.

They reached the end, and there was a picture of the family in front of their new house in Garland City. Patience was forcing a smile, as was her mother, and Richard wasn't smiling at all.

Patience winced. "That's when we moved to Garland. Urgh."

"Why the move?"

"Well, Greenhaven PD wanted dad to come to Garland to work on some assignment with the Garland City PD. And it's... kinda dragging."

"What assignment?"

Patience looked at her mom, and doubt flashed across her face. "Organized crime," she said slowly.

"You don't want to tell me? That's fine. I don't blame you." He rubbed his finger over the photograph, lingering on Patience's face. "You really do look like your mother, Patience. Both of you are beautiful. Richard is a very, very lucky man."

Patience couldn't help it. He was handsome and she was a little flattered. "I need to... go do homework."

"Richard is due back soon as well. Thank you for dropping that casserole off, Leo."

Patience escorted him out. "It's lovely spending time with you and your mother. We should all go out together sometime."

"I'm not sure my dad would like that."

"Well, we just won't tell anyone then." He leaned against the side of the door, shielding his pretty face from the sun with one hand. "Patience, I wanted to ask you something."

"Yeah?" She wondered when Woolworth's was closing.

"There's going to be a celebration at St. Joseph's next Sunday. Feast of St. Gennaro. Would you like to come with me?"

"Uhm, I'm actually going to be doing something that night. Prom. I have a date."

He paused, and something settled over his face. "I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"It's fine." 

His blue eyes were glassy in the sunshine. "Who with?"

"Salvatore Mallozzi. I think you know him."

"I do indeed." He looked away. The joviality of his manner had seemed to vanish. "Thank you for having me over." He walked down the steps to the house, not looking back.

***

"You look beautiful, sweetie." Marilyn fixed her hair a bit and steppled back. "Perfecto!"

Patience looked at herself in the mirror, turning her head this way and that to admire the makeup. "Thanks, Mommy! You did a great job."

"I still think you should have worn my black dress. It'll look so charming and vintage." 

"Ha. I'd get hell for it from the other girls, I'd never live it down."

She looked out the window. "You'll have to introduce me to your date soon."

Patience had no intention of doing so, and would make excuses to the end of time. "Sure, I will. We'll all have to have dinner or something." She checked the clock. "Well, off I go. Bye, Mommy."

"Have fun, sweetie. Don't get carried away." The look on her face was bittersweet as she watched her daughter leave the house.

***

Salvatore had offered to pick her up, but she refused. She REALLY didn't need her mom and dad to see who she was dating. So she walked down the cracked streets to Salvatore's house.

He lived just a few blocks over, in a small, cramped tenement with an overgrown yard and a car on concrete blocks on the street opposite. She nervously knocked on the door, and it was pulled open by a plump girl with red lipstick and frizzy blonde hair. "Oh, you must be Patience!"

"Are you... related?" 

"No. My name's Barbara. I'm here for the prom as well." She stepped into the doorway, showing off her ruffled polka-dot dress. "I'm going with Gabe, Salvatore's brother. I like your dress!"

"Salvatore has a brother?" She followed her in.

The house was packed, hot and noisy. A boy that looked similiar to Sal, but with longer hair, was straightening his bow tie in the hallway mirror. He looked over and smiled at her. "Hi! You must be Patience."

He yelled something in Sicilian behind him, and was answered by a woman's voice in another rapid smattering of Sicilian. A woman with thick dark hair and thicker eyebrows was cooking something in the smoky kitchen as Patience emerged into the living room. As she looked over at Patience and frowned, the resemblance to her two sons was so striking she wondered if she were simply Salvatore in a dress with a little eyeshadow. 

"Why can't you get a nice Italian girl?" The woman yelled in the other direction.

"Quiet down, mama!" Salvatore yelled back from another room.

There was a man sitting on the ripped couch, holding a beer. She vaguely recognized the dark shades and the slicked-back hair.

"Patience! So this is the girl that my Sal is so in love with. Let me get a good look at you.

"Skin and bones," sniffed the mother.

"That dress looks lovely on you, darling. Twirl around." She did so. "Che bella!"

Barbara came in and collapsed on the sofa. "Are you done in there, Sal?"

"I'll be ready when I'm ready!"

"I've known Sal since he was knee-high-- I'm his part-time boss. Name's Dario Malone, but you can call me Bats. Cause I'm battier than a warehouse full of 'em!" That seemed to amuse Malone, and he threw his head back and cackled.

Dario Malone... that name sounded familiar. She felt like she'd seen it in the newspaper before. A door swung open and Sal stood there in a well-cut white tuxedo, his black hair in a neat side-part. He was holding a corsage. 

"You look great, Sal! You're so handsome! Your suit's... amazing!"

"I let him borrow it," said Malone. "After all, it's a special night."

"You look stunning," Salvatore managed, his eyes like saucers. "Your dress... it's...,"

"From the clearance rack at Woolworth's." Salvatore stepped forward and pinned the corsage to her breast. "May I?"

"You may." Patience took his arm in hers.

"This kid is like a son to me," said Malone. "So you better bring him back home before midnight, understand?" He wagged his finger in a parody of a mother. 

She laughed. "Sure, Mr. Malone."

"Salud, Sal." He lifted his beer bottle. "You make this a special night."

Barbara and Gabe and them got in the car, a swanky Cadillac that was probably borrowed as well. Barbara and Patience sat in the back, Gabe and Sal in the front.

The ride was long and glitzy and filled with laughter. Salvatore blew through two red light and the speed limit, but she didn't care. Barbara cracked raunchy joke after raunchy joke. When they finally arrived at the prom, Patience staggered out, dizzy, when Sal held the door open for her.

Their car outshone every other car in the parking lot. People stared in admiration at the Mallozzi brothers and their dates as they escorted them into the auditorium.

A banner proclaiming CLASS OF 52 WILLIAM WESTON HIGH SCHOOL hung over the dance floor. Punch bowls and glitzy dresses galore. High heels spinning in a dance. Neon streamers everywhere. Patience was bedazzled, and had to hang onto Sal's arm for support.

"Yahoo! Let's dance!" Barbara grabbed Gabe and spun him into the crowd of dancers, and Sal followed suit.

None of them knew how to dance, that much was clear, and they kept knocking into other people and each other. Patience was laughing and blushing, and hooked her arms around Salvatore's narrow shoulders

Even his pallor had flushed, and he was grinning broadly.

They separated when they became exhausted, and Sal led her over to a chair as he went to get them punch.

Patience leaned her elbows on the white tablecloth as Sal disappeared into the crowd. This was the best night of her life and it could only get better. She never wanted it to end.

"Excuse me? Excuse me? P-Patience?"

She turned around to face a brown-haired boy with coke bottle glasses and a bow tie. He was holding a pen and a notepad.

"Yes?" He looked vaguely familiar.

"I'm Mike. I'm in your gun class, I think."

"Oh. Yeah. You always come in dead last. I'm sorry for beating you by fifty points last Friday, I shouldn't have laughed at you."

"It's fine. I'll take another elective next year. I'm not big on shooting, anyway, journalism is more my forte." He scratched his head, looking nervous. "I'm covering the prom for the yearbook. Can I ask you a couple questions?"

"Sure." She moved over to let him sit down.

"First question: Who is your date?"

"I'M her goddamn date, and you better beat it, you fucking mick." Sal was standing there holding two cups of punch, his fingers so tight she worried that it would shatter.

He stood up. "Sorry. I'm with the yearbook, I was just interviewing--"

"I don't give a fuck what you're doing, find another girl." Salvatore's voice was a snarl.

"Sal, calm down. He really WAS just--"

"What the hell did you say to my brother?" Snarled someone else from behind. A tall brown-haired boy with a lantern jaw and a suit 2 sizes too small blocked out the light.

Sal slid the drinks over to her and faced him, body tense. "Get lost, Seamus. This doesn't involve you."

"Fuck you, Mallozzi. I got a fuckin bone to pick with you. You put my buddy Sam in the hospital. And you was the one trespassing on Bulldogs territory!"

A small circle had formed, watching the two boys. "Oh, no," Michael said in a small voice.

Sal pushed up his sleeves just as Seamus took a step forward. The look in his glistening, coal-black eyes made her shudder. A chill ran down her spine. In her mind's eye she saw the Irish boy's head stomped into the curb, and heard the echoing crack through her brain.

"What's going on here? Are you fighting? Enough!" Mr. Tolbert, their burly gym teacher, was elbowing his way through the throng.

Sal looked over to the teacher and looked about to argue--the cords on his neck were standing taut. But Patience wrapped her arms around him from behind, and saidnin his ear. "Forget about it Sal. He's not worth it. C'mon, let's dance a little more."

Mike tugged his brother in the other direction, and Patience led him back to the dance floor and pulled him into a slow dance. She tilted her head up to rest their foreheads against each other.

He smelled like cigarette smoke, her boy, and as the gentleness in his eyes returned, she leaned up and slowly pressed her lips against his. They stayed like that, still, tasting each other, their bodies molded together. When they separated, he whispered, "Let's get out of here?"

"What?" She giggled.

"I know a place--a beautiful little place that the two of us can go for some alone time. Come on, let's go!" He tugged her towards the exit. She looked back, her hair whipping. "What about Gabe and Barb?" 

"They have friends who can drive them home. C'mon!"

***

It was indeed a beautiful little place. On a hill that overlooked the vast, glittering lights of Garland City, he had parked her car. She gazed out over the cornucopia of shining lights, spread like a blanket to the mass of darkness that was the bay. "Oh, Sal! This is wonderful!"

He was sitting back, smiling rakishly. "One hell of a sight, huh? Found this place while exploring one day. Thought it would be perfect. No one comes around here cause it's right off the highway on the forest reserve. The trees hide it from the road." 

If Patience had been more suspicious, she probably would have questioned why he was out here so remote "exploring", but she was caught up in a whirlwind of love and it didn't occur to her. "It's perfect. Thank you. This--everything is perfect."

"I sure hope so. A perfect night for a perfect girl." he smiled at her. He did have the most wonderful smile. It lit up his whole face. He was handsome, in that gangly way teenage boys often were, youth softening his features before they became angular adult's features. His skin was very fair, milky pale and shaved clean of the faltering stubble that had just started to come in. His eyes were not hard anymore, but as soft and dark as a doe's, his hair a matching sable that was carefully combed out of his face. 

And she was drowning in him, so much so that when he put a hand between her legs she didn't object, but leaned forward to meet him in a kiss.

She was hypersensitized, breathing heavily and moaning as his mouth went from hers to the soft nape of her neck, nipping her slightly as his hand worked under her panties to reach her warm, damp confines.

He pressed the tip of his finger inside her, slowly moving in circles, and she stifled a moan. She could see him getting hard through his pants, and spontaneously rubbed him through the fabric. He swelled under her hand, becoming more erect with every rub she gave him.

He moved up to a tiny pinprick of flesh between her cleft, and the shock of pleasure was so electric she gasped. "There," she said. "Yes, there, yes, keep rubbing!"

He encircled it with his finger and thumb, pressing and rubbing and sending her heart to her throat, and she increased her movements, gripping his bulging head through the fabric and squeezing it.

"Fuck," he said when before now he had been silent, and his voice was strained. He pulled his hand out--she squirmed--and wrapped his arms around her, searching for the zipper of her dress, and when he yanked it down, it nearly tore. She gave a half-cry, half-laugh. "Sal!"

Her breasts--what little of them there were-- popped free, and he smothered his face in them, licking and sucking the sensitive red tips. She grabbed his head, her fingers sinking into his soft black hair, not sure whether to pull him toward her or away, the stimulation zinging to the ends of her toes.

He unbuttoned his coat halfway, and pulled it off the rest of the way in his haste. The shirt came off too, and his bare chest was revealed, lean and scarred with every rib visible.

"Sal--" he quieted her with another kiss, pulling off her dress until she was in nothing but underwear and thigh-highs, and the underwear went too, dangling on her ankles.

The world swirled as he pulled a lever to put her seat back, and her head thudded against the soft seat as he climbed on top of her. He did not weigh much, but he seemed heavy as he pulled down his zipper, head bent so that his hair came free to shadow his face.

Something brushed her wet, spread opening, something hard and desperately hot, and before she could say a word he was fully sheathed in her, his thick cock spearing her spongy walls, and the pain wa so sudden and sharp the slow shreds of pleasure that had begun to build up vanished.

He began to move back and forth, his hips spasming as he forced his cock as far as it would go and pulled out, leaving just the head in. 

Whatever pleasure she might have felt was gone by the harsh movement and sudden penetration without any time for her to adjust. She struggled, the pain making tears come to her eyes, before he slammed her back down with a deliberateness to it that said don't do that again.

She looked at the car ceiling, tears streaking down the sides of her face as put his whole weight on her hips, grinding against her harder than a bullet in a chamber. The thought made her think of gun class, and if she had a gun right now, and she wondered whether she would use it on him right now.

Her long, pale legs unwillingly curved around his slim hips, her underwear hanging from one ankle. The lights of the city reflected on the dashboard, and on her quivering toetip, twitching back and forth as he slammed into her.

He froze, head nestled to the nape of her neck, and gave a moan that vibrated against her skin. Something hot spread through her lower body, like a warm, wet puddle. 

They lay like that for a moment, him harshly breathing against her skin, before he rolled off.

She sat up immediately, despite the stinging between her thighs, and pulled her dress around her. Her nose was running in addition to the tears that streamed down her cheeks. As she hefted herself, she felt something warm trickle down her leg. When she looked down she saw a streak of blood, mixed with white, slowly making its way down her thigh.

"Marry me," said Salvatore.

Patience looked over at him in utter bewilderment. He was lying on his back, his narrow chest exhaling and expanding and his fly undone. The thing that had caused her so much pain was lying there on top of his pants, looking almost comical with its clumsy, mushroom-shaped head and the veins running helter skelter across its length.

"Are you joking?" She was trying to keep the sob out of her voice and it came overly hard.

"No! I'm serious." He rolled over to look at her with sheer adoration. "I want to have kids with you, I want to come home to you, I want to do this every night. I love you, Patience!"

"Sal, we're still in high school! How do you think you're going to support us?"

"I'll quit school. I've been thinking of leaving school anyway. I'll find a place for us. I got a job--I can support us both, no worry."

She gave a mirthless laugh. "With what, three dollars an hour? You're fucking delusional."

"I got connections. I could make a living--"

"We're not getting married. Get your head screwed on straight--"

The slap he delivered her knocked her head into the car door, and she saw stars.

Clutching her head, she turned frightened eyes onto her boyfriend.

His eyes made her freeze like a rabbit in the headlights. They were burning coal, livid and infernal. "You think that I can't support us? Can't hold down a job? Or is that what you expected?"

He pulled her forward by her throat. "Cause I'm just some fuckin lowlife, and I'll never be anything more than some scumbag working a dead-end job, cause I'm nothing but a criminal, cause I'll never be an honest man, for the same reason you won't introduce me to your parents. I killed people before, you know, Patience?" He punctuated his words a harsh shake of her head. His two fingers were cinching her throat, cutting off her air supply. Her gaze was starting to turn white. "I killed people and I'll do it again. I ain't a boy, Patience. I'm a MAN." 

He let her go. "And don't you ever forget it."

She clutched her throat, coughing weakly, her eyes overflowing with tears of pain and fright. Salvatore paused, then smashed his fist against the dashboard. "FUCK!"

They sat there like that, Sal still and Patience sobbing weakly, until Salvatore reversed the car.

The trip back was quiet. Salvatore made several attempts at conversation, but when she didn't respond, he lapsed into angry silence. He dropped her off at the corner without a goodbye.

During the walk back she felt like a medieval woman doing the walk of shame. The weight of what happened weighed on her as heavy as a mortar. All she wanted was to hide safe and sound, away from the horrors of the night. She wanted her mother's soft voice, her soft, comforting touch, her kind, gentle dark eyes. Whenever anything had gone wrong, whenever little Patience was crying, Mommy would hold her and put her on her lap and kiss her tears away.

She felt like bursting into tears when she saw the glowing orange squares of her windows come into view.

Patience rushed through the front door, waiting to topple into her mother's arms.

A very different scene greeted her.

A familiar elegant figure was sitting on her--her--couch, one leg crossed over the other. His white shirt was undone and unbuttoned down his chest, and his pants were loose on his hips.

He looked over slowly, putting glass of white wine down. A brassiere was lying discarded on the floor. "Did you come back from your prom date, Pazienza? With Salvatore?"

"It's eleven at night, why are you here?"  She was screaming and crying and did not need to deal with this and wanted him out.

"I think you know exactly why I'm here,  Patience." His voice was quiet in the silence of her house.

The realization hit her like an avalanche. Slow, creeping, then collapsing in a sudden wave.

"You... and Mommy..." her voice was small. She didn't want to believe it.

He was standing up to lean against the wall. His golden hair tumbled over his shoulders as he tilted his head to look at her. "It took you long enough."

Fresh tears stung her eyes as she struggled to comprehend the end of her happy child's version of her parents' marriage. "Mom! Mommy!"

"Your Mommy is not coming. Your Mommy is asleep and she won't wake up for quite a while."

He let a long, strong arm drape across the doorside. He stared at her slowly, intensely, his eyes dark and amused.

"Wouldn't," he said, "It be a tragedy if your father was to hear about this?"

The idea pierced her brain, sunk into it like a winestain. She thought of her parents divorcing. Marilyn and Richard. Those happy picnics, the fair trips, the family dinners, the household disappearing. She thought of Daddy finding out, and the despair she imagined on his face made fresh tears dot her cheeks. "No. No, please. Don't tell him--If, if it needs to, I will, but please, not you, not now--"

"And what would you do to make that a reality?" He stepped closer, until the scent of his cologne hit her. The sickly sweet made her gorge rise, as did his smile.

"No," she said as she realized his words. "No." She looked behind her, praying for her father to get back.

"Fuck you. I'm not--you can't blackmail me like this! I won't fuck you and you won't take advantage of me like this! I--" she was crying so hard she wanted to collapse. 

Leonardo took her wrist and slammed her against the wall. "Time is ticking, Patience. Your father is due back in an hour." A sly, vicious smile broke across his face. "Let's get to work."

He divested her of her dress, which fell in a crumpled heap on the ground. His body was warm and attentive, unlike Salvatore, moving carefully and warmly against her trembling body, supporting her against the wall and capturing her lips in a deep, soul-sucking kiss. She smelled his sick sweetness and felt the thick curly hair between her fists, and wanted to vomit.

And then he was in her. His hot stiffness was invading her damaged warmth, rubbing and sliding carefully over her wounded walls. His cock was already warm--from what, she did not know.

Leonardo was considerate, a slow, careful lover, seeking the ways to make her squeal. He touched her in the right ways, rubbing her clit and thumbing her nipples while he covered her mouth with his.

"You're wetter than I thought you'd be," he whispered. "Did you and your boyfriend have some fun before you came home?"

He separated, cock half out of her, and the thin strings of white plastered his cock.

She wanted to sob from shame.

"What a naughty girl," he whispered in her ear.

No. Not after Salvatore. Not after this.

He dropped to his knees in one fluid motion, and pressed his mouth to the apex of her thighs.

Her knees buckled as he gave his first suck, followed by a lave, drawing out the seed from her body.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" she could only helplessly cry as the tip of his tongue teased her sensitive lips and clit.

He withdrew his head to gaze into her eyes, and the infinity beyond them made her spine stiffen.

"The only seed you need to have in you is mine."

He stood up, and in the same movement, thrust into her. 

Her back weakened as he began his steady rhythm, hips thrusting back and forth measuredly until her belly began to build up with more sparks of electricity. 

She didn't want it, she didn't want any of it, all she wanted to do was flee to the refuge of her room and cry. But he wasn't letting go of her, he was hammering and kissing and pleasuring her, until the climax building up in her abused body was too intense to ignore.

The head of his cock twitched, and she knew he was close to release. "Wouldn't it be grand if we had a baby?" He murmured into her ear, punctuating his words with a warm, wet lick. "We'll have a little girl together. Oh, papa will be gone, promesso, and even your mother, if you so desire. Take it all in. Every bit. I'll make you a mother alright, and you'll bear my seed until your legs collapse and your body can't take it anymore."

His lovingly hissed promises sent her into a mindless state of panic, of giving up her school, her parents, of everything that ever meane anything to her. The vestiges of her encounter with Salvatore had put her in hysteria, and it had reached a breaking point. She drew her head back and slammed it into Leonardo's with a loud crack.

His cock pulled free, and she slammed onto the ground just in time for her to pull her green dress around her body and make a break for her room.

She slammed her door shut and locked it with the slim wire latch, which stretched taut when Leonardo tried to force his way in. "Pazienza."

The doorknob jiggled.

"Do you want your father to know about this?"

The chain snapped taut.

"Let me in."

She stood in the middle of her room, moonlight bathing her. "Go away."

"You'll be mine soon, anyway. Your mother will belong to me, and so will you. Why not make this easier on yourself?"

"Go away!" She crushed her hands over her ears and knelt down, and sobbed, praying for the clink of metal and the thuds to melt away and the sound of her father's boot's to come thudding in, but for that moment in time, all she could do was crouch and wail, and wish desperately for the night to end.

***

The next few weeks, Patience avoided Salvatore. She took a different route home, even though it was a mile out of her way. She never went to see him at the butcher shop.

She knew Leonardo kept visiting her mother. Many days she stayed awake, eyes wide open and tortured as she knew what was going on down the hall, trying to banish the faint moans from her subconscious. But she kept her door locked. Her window latched.

A month later, she missed her period.

[j-j-ehlby-writes]

Fate (c.e.) (3/6)

Chapter Three- Kismet

Pairing: Professor!Chris Evans x Student!OFC

Word count: 5.5k

Summary: fate (noun): the development of events beyond a person’s control, regarded as determined by a supernatural power. (verb): be destined to happen, turn out, or act in a particular way.

Amara is about to start her senior year of college with her newly single best friend, Elizabeth. She goes out one night and meets a handsome stranger, Chris. Sparks fly. Fast forward a week and she finds out Chris is her professor. What happens when she also meets Sebastian, a cute guy from another one of her classes?

Series masterlist

“Are you almost done? He’s gonna be here in a few minutes!” Lizzie shouts from the other side of my bathroom door. It's finally time for my date with Sebastian. After my meeting with Chris, I rushed home to drown my feelings in a couple more pieces of crunchy, peanut butter toast and Sex and the City reruns. Big and Carrie were perfect together when things were great between them. He treated her like the queen she was. I wanted a Mr. Big, without all of the breaking up, moving around the world, and being with other people. It wasn’t until I was getting ready for my date that my Mr. Big could be Sebastian sans all of the breaking up.

I finish re-applying my eyeliner and take one last look at my outfit. The sweater was fitted around my arms, but baggy around my torso, just the way I like it. My light washed jeans popped against my sweater but went perfectly with my new burgundy Converse. My hair was curled, thanks to my best friend, completing my look. I went with a neutral pink color for my lips and added a light gloss for shine. I looked cute, and when I came out of the bathroom, Lizzie repeated my thoughts.

“Are you nervous?” She asks plopping herself on the couch with a couple leftover tacos from Tuesday. She was dressed in an old band tee and a pair of sweatpants from our school. Her make-up was already washed off and her hair was up in a messy bun. She already finished her homework for the weekend and was getting ready to catch up on Supernatural, which I made her watch this summer and now she’s hooked.

“I mean, a little. But it’s Sebastian. He doesn’t make me nervous. I’m just excited to go out on a date. And the fact that it’s with Sebastian just makes it even better.” I smile just thinking about spending time with him, just the two of us. I’m curious to know what he has planned for us. The typical dinner and a movie? Just dinner? Will he try “Netflix and chill” with me? Nah. That doesn’t seem like his style. It doesn’t matter what we do though. I just want to go out on a date with him.

The intercom by the door buzzes, letting us know someone was here. I run over to the door, pressing the talk button. “Who is it?” I ask already knowing exactly who it was.

His rich voice comes through the speaker, “It’s your date for the evening.”

“Hmm, you’re going to have to be more specific.” He opened up that door so I decide to tease him a little bit.

“Your 7 o’clock dinner date.” I giggle, picturing the smile that was fighting not to appear on his cute face.

“Come on up.” I buzz him in and wait for him to come to the door.

“He’s coming to the door? Very classy.” Lizzie comments while we wait. “Seriously, where did you pick him up and does he have any friends?” 

“I’m sure he does. I promise I’ll let you know if I meet them.”

As soon as I hear the three knocks on our door, I open it to a very gorgeous looking Sebastian. He's wearing a burgundy button down with small, vertical and horizontal white stripes, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a pair of medium washed jeans, and a pair of black dress shoes. He's smiling from ear to ear. I tried to keep my cool just seeing how handsome he looked standing in my doorway. And to make it better, he takes a bouquet of red roses out from behind his back. I couldn’t help but let the smile that was fighting to stay hidden take over my face. This guy couldn’t be any more amazing. I put the bouquet in a vase we had under the sink and was out the door.

“So, are you going to tell me what we’re doing yet?” I pester while we were walking to his car. I knew he wasn’t going to budge, but I had to pester as much as possible.

“Nope.” He opens the passenger side door for me. “You’re just going to have to be patient.” I jump in his SUV, eagerly awaiting for this date to start. He hops in and we take off down the road. After about ten minutes, we pull up to my favorite Italian restaurant. I don’t remember telling him about this place being my favorite. Maybe it’s a coincidence, but I’m not complaining.

We have a really nice dinner. We talk about our families and how we grew up. I learn we both had divorced parents. He learned I had an interesting upbringing. I almost didn’t mention any of it because I didn’t want to scare him off with the baggage I had. He didn’t seem too freaked out. He asks me questions about how he thought it all shaped me as a person, how it might affect my choosing of a future husband, etc.. He was genuinely interested in my past and he was really sweet about all of it. I couldn’t help but get butterflies in my stomach thinking about a future with him. I know it’s only our first date, but it feels like I’ve known him all my life. Isn’t that how you’re supposed to feel?

“Alright.” He says closing his car door after dinner. “Enough with the heavy. Let’s have some fun.” We take off down the road towards our next destination. In five minutes, we’re walking up to a live music venue where a indie/alternative band was playing. I’d never heard of them, but I was thoroughly impressed. Sebastian and I sway along to the music, with his arms wrapped around my waist from behind. I had a smile on my face all night long thanks to him. When the show was over and we bought some merch, we hit the local frozen yogurt place before calling it a night.

Overall, it was the most perfect first date I’ve ever been on. When we had finished our sweet treats, he was a perfect gentleman and walked me all the way up to my apartment door. I didn’t want to say goodbye to him. I didn’t want the night to be over. Not yet.

“I had a really nice time tonight.” I know it was the most cliché thing to say at the end of the first date, but in this case it was true. But I didn’t want to come off as too eager and say it was the best date I had ever been on. If I had to pick the ideal date to go on with Sebastian, it was tonight. Hands down.

After some small talk to try and postpone the inevitable, the end of the night came. “Good night, babe.” He smiles as he pulls his hand out of mine. My heart stopped.

I yank him back, “Excuse me,” the blush creeped up in his face and probably in mine too. “Did you just call me ‘babe’?” I had to poke fun at him while I could. Anything to keep this night going a little longer. “Because I believe that’s a ‘girlfriend’ nickname, and you sir, have only taken me on one date.”

“Alright. How many dates do I have to take you on to make that sort of request?” He steps closer, causing the butterflies to go awry in my stomach thinking about what is about to happen.

“Well I’d say that after tonight, that request could be made in one afternoon hang out session, and one dinner and a movie.” I figure that would be an appropriate amount of time for us to spend together for this to be something official. I really like him and I don’t want to rush into things with him. I don’t want to ruin things by going too quickly.

“I think that’s appropriate.” He agrees smiling. He leans in placing a simple kiss on my cheek. How does this simple of a gesture make my heart go pitter-patter and feel all twitter-pated? “I’ll see you Monday.” I watch him walk away, making note that he has the roundest ass I have ever seen before.

I spend the entire weekend in listening to the band from the concert. I suggested numerous songs for Sebastian to listen to, making sure to rope him in as much as I was. I wanted him to come over to listen, but I didn’t want to be too forward. Even though we just had our first date, we were already planning our next date. Since we went out last time, we decided to just stay in, order pizza, and watch movies from his “master collection.” As nice as it was to go out on a date, we both agreed that we would much rather stay in together for our next hangout. We decided on this upcoming Friday, as much as we wanted to hang out again as soon as possible. However since we’re seeing each other on Monday, we decided to postpone it until Friday.

By Monday, I opt for a comfy look with super baggy, black sweatpants and an old, black concert tee. My hair was sloppily put up in a ponytail. The only thing I put effort in my make-up. Even when I felt like crap, I knew I was seeing Sebastian. And he can’t see me all natural. We’re not at that stage yet.

We met up at the coffee shop early enough that there wasn’t too long of a wait.

“You’re letting yourself go already? We’ve only been on one date!” He screeches when he saw me, standing in line. He earned himself a good whack on the arm as soon as I got closer.

“Get used to it, bud. I dress like this 99% of the time when I’m not at school.” I quip back, my tough façade cracking by the chuckle that came out as well. I wanted to be tough but his smile made that impossible. He wraps his arms around my shoulders from behind like it was the most natural thing in the world. Everything with him felt natural; like we had been doing this for years, rather than knowing each other for days. I’m really liking this feeling I get when I’m with him. I feel giddy when he’s around like I have a little school girl crush on him. But I love it. I’ve been waiting for years for this feeling. All I can think is “finally.”

He continues the gesture even when we ordered. We sit down after our drinks were done and food was heated up, chatting until it was time to go to our classes. I didn’t want to go to class though, knowing I would have to face Chris again. I just prayed to God that he wouldn’t ask me to stay after again. I don’t want a repeat of what happened in his office…

Unlike Wednesday’s class, he didn’t go over people’s work. All he did was give us a prompt: Kismet, and how we interpret it. I shake my head when he informed us of this prompt. I know he was meaning it for me, and that’s not okay. So, instead of writing about what I know he wants me to, I write about how I don’t believe in that wonder just to piss him off. When I finish with that, I turn it in and leave with a smirk.

“What are you smirking about?” Sebastian asks when he saw me after his class had gotten out.

“Nothing really. I might have just pissed off my professor.”

“Which one?!”

“The new one who teaches Advanced Writing of Fiction. He told us to write about kismet and how we interpret it, so I write about how I don’t believe in it.” We chuckle at my slightly reckless behavior.

“I knew you were wild, but not wild enough to blatantly disobey your professor.” He throws his arm around me and we start walking towards the cafeteria. “I like it.” He smiles, making my insides turn to goo. Damn him.

That’s kind of how all week went. I did everything I could to defy Chris and what he wanted, and I got closer to Sebastian. He even came over on Wednesday after I was done with my piano practice. Lizzie, him and I hung out all night until he had to leave. He later asked me if that counted as the one afternoon hangout session I had previously mentioned. I said it didn’t count because Lizzie was there. He was a little bummed but I reminded him of Friday and he shut up about it.

When Friday finally came, I go to his rehearsals at 3 and wait for him to be done with that so we could have a relaxing night in. I took the bus to campus instead of driving. Sebastian is going to drive us to his place for the night in. He said the fridge was fully stocked with junk food and drinks for us and he had his movie collection ready for us to plow through. His words, not mine. I shook my head at him when he said that. He’s such a dork.

I did my homework while I waited for his rehearsals to wrap up. When it was finally over, he called me down to the stage so he could tell me that he would shower and then be out so to meet him at the entrance to the building. I packed my stuff and headed that way. I knew I would be waiting a little while but I didn’t mind. I wanted to warm up outside the theater so I wouldn’t be a popsicle for him later. I sat off to the side, by the huge statue of the school mascot and finished what the last portion of my homework.

“Amara?”

I look up to see Chris standing a few feet from me, carrying a gym bag and was all sweaty as if he had just got done working out. I had to stop myself from gasping at how breathtaking he looked. His normally gelled hair was limply hanging by the side of his face, his shirt has V-shaped sweat mark on his chest and under the armpits. He had a towel hanging around his neck, too.

“What are you doing here so late?” Breaking me out of my trance, he comes over to where I was sitting. I look away from him, embarrassed since he probably knew I was staring at him.

“Waiting for a friend to get out of rehearsal. What are you doing here so late?” I mentally facepalm myself for asking such a stupid question. It’s obvious he just got done working out. Now he probably thinks I’m an idiot.

“Just finished my workout. It’s the only time I get to do it and the facilities are free to faculty members. That was one of the selling points when I interviewed for the position.” I snicker knowing that was no lie. I knew he worked out from the second I met him. There’s no way he got those muscles by just sitting at home.

I hear footsteps approaching, taking my attention away from Chris. Thank God it was Sebastian. “Hey, you ready to go?” He asks before registering Chris’s presence. “Who is this?”

I stand up and move closer to him. “This is Mr. Evans. He’s my Advanced Writing of Fiction professor.” I’m hoping he pays enough attention to know that this is the professor I’ve been disobeying and possibly pissing off all week. If he did know, he hid it well. He shakes hands with him.

“I’m Sebastian, Amara’s boyfriend.” I wanted to protest, but the way Chris reacted was priceless. His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared, his mouth moved to a straight line, and he stood up a little taller to try and look bigger than Sebastian, even though they’re about the same height and body mass. Seeing Chris a little jealous was endearing to see. He does care, even if he shouldn’t.

“Well I’ll see you Monday, Mr. Evans.” I drag Sebastian away from the building before anything else could happen. When we were in his car, he had to say something.

“That’s the professor you’ve been trying to piss off?” He gapes at me. “What are you trying to do? Make him fall in love with you?”

“Oh yeah. I’m trying to make him fall madly in love with me by constantly pissing him off. I’m a shoe-in.” I roll my eyes and shook my head.

“And what am I? Just someone to make him jealous ?” He wasn’t serious. His voice was filled with sarcasm.

“Did I not tell you? Sorry…” We glance at each other before bursting out laughing. Maybe at first, I thought he could distract me from thinking about Chris. Yes, it was mean of me to use him like that. But that couldn’t be further from the truth now. I really like him and I think this could go somewhere and turn out to be a great love.

After he started driving, I remembered something. “So, I don’t recall having a boyfriend.” I turn to him, waiting for his answer.

“I know, I’m sorry. It was the first thing that popped in my head.” I guess that was an acceptable answer. “And besides, I do plan on making that happen. Soon.” He winks before returning his attention back to the road. That smooth fothermucker…

As soon as we get to his place, Chris was never brought up again. We engrossed ourselves in numerous movies and indulged in countless amounts of junk food. It was exactly what I was hoping for: a relaxing night in with a wonderful guy. He was a perfect gentleman, too: he didn’t make any moves on me, he waited until I snuggled up to him to put his arms around me, he offered me the last piece of pizza instead of just going for it himself- everything was great. By the time either of us looked at the clock, it was well into the wee hours of the morning. So instead of him driving me home, I spent the night. He offered me my own blankets in case I wouldn’t be comfortable sleeping in the same bed as him. I skipped that, though. We’re adults. We can control ourselves and sleep under the same blankets together.

The next morning, I woke up before he did. I roll over and was greeted with his adorable sleeping face. How can someone who is sleeping look like a ray of sunshine?

“You’re staring.” He groans with his eyes still closed.

“I’m admiring.” I smile back. As if he could see through his eyelids, his sweet smile returned on his face making my heart go pitter-patter. He finally opened his eyes to meet mine.

“Good morning.” He groans again. His voice is extra deep in the morning which was super sexy. I could get used to this.

“Morning.” I snuggle in closer to him, burrowing myself in the crook of his neck. He was warm and still smelled like his cologne that he put on last night. It was a mixture of some kind of wood and soap. It literally smelled like heaven to me.

He wraps me up in his arms and pulls me even closer than I was with our limbs intertwined. We both sigh with contentment. It's obvious neither of us wanted to get up just yet. I actually think he did fall back asleep because after a little while his breathing went back to being slow and steady. I wanted to do the same but I can’t stay in one place for long when falling asleep so there was no way I could have. Instead I used that time to think more about this man. He is literally the total package. He’s smart (he told me he had a 3.7 GPA in high school and had about the same now), he’s a family man (he talks to his mom every day either by calling or texting), he has a great sense of humor (he makes the appropriate amount of jokes but knows when it’s time to be serious), and so much more. The fact that he’s totally adorable is just a bonus.

And for some strange reason, by some miracle, he chose me to spend his time with. I will do everything in my power not to screw up this amazing opportunity that I have been given.

Somehow while thinking, I do drift back to sleep as well. When I awoke though, to my bewilderment I was alone. I left Sebastian’s room to find him in the kitchen, making something that smelled like bacon.

“You’re a ninja.”

“Or you’re just a really heavy sleeper.” He counters with a smirk.

“But seriously, how did you do that? We were a human pretzel.” My astonishment for his skills is blowing my mind.

“Very sneakily.” He winks, returning to the stove where there was bacon in a pan. “Grab a seat at the table. Brunch is almost ready.”

“How long have you been up?” I ask taking my place at the breakfast bar.

“About an hour.”

“Why didn’t you wake me? I would have helped with brunch.” I feel guilty that he was doing everything and I was just sitting here.

He turns off the stove and comes over to me. “You were too cute to wake up.” He quickly pecks my cheek and going back to the food. “Did you sleep good?”

We continue some more small talk until he served French toast with a side of bacon. My mouth immediately starts watering before I could take a bite.

After a delicious meal, he brings me home much to our dismay. He walks me to my door, like the gentleman that he was. “So, Friday, how about we do dinner and a movie after I get done with rehearsal?” He leans up against the wall near my door.

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

“You pick the movie and bring the oversized purse, I’ll bring the candy and drinks?” I nod in agreement. I love that we both love getting candy from the gas station and sneak it into the movie theater instead of paying skyrocket prices for the exact same candy. Neither of us like spending so much money on the popcorn so that wasn’t an issue.

He pecks my cheek then started down the hallway. I fumble with my keys to unlock the door.

“Hey Amara?” I look down the hall to see Sebastian at the top of the stairs. He pauses before smirking. “I like you.”

A stupid smile appeared on my face. I knew he did but actually hearing it made my heart swell.

“I’m kinda fond of you, too.”

His smile lit up his adorable face before he disappeared down the stairs. That smile was stuck on my face all day, and every time I closed my eyes I saw his face before he went down the stairs. His words repeated in my head which would make my cheeks hurt more and more every time I thought about him.

I can’t believe this is my life right now. I’m about to graduate from college in something I’m passionate about, I’m going to start an internship at a publishing company a.k.a. my dream job, I have an amazing best friend, and a great guy who adores me as much as I adore him… I’m not naïve enough to think things will be like this for long. I know something is going to happen to screw at least one of those things up. I don’t know which one and I don’t know when, but I’m terrified for when that time comes.

Sunday was a wonderful day, except I couldn’t seem to get comfortable when I tried to go to sleep Saturday night. I tossed and I turned, not able to get comfortable. And when I did doze off, it was a very light, dreamless sleep. It was rather annoying. I woke up at an ungodly hour (7:30am) so I got up, did my homework, and took a nap after lunch. The rest of the night was great until I checked my email before I went to bed. There was an email from Chris, telling me to see him after my classes tomorrow. Nothing about what this impromptu meeting was going to be about. Just simply “See me after your last class tomorrow. -C”. Yay. Can’t wait…

I text Sebastian right away to complain. His response? “That’s what you get for pissing him off MULTIPLE times by disobeying him!” and “Just try not to be too cute. He might fall for you before I get the opportunity to ;)” Why I oughta…

Even after another horrible night sleep, I had to make sure I looked extra good for when I saw Chris. Despite what Sebastian said, I do want to look good to make him realize what he can’t have, while looking good for Sebastian in the meantime. It’s a win-win for me. I put on a white, long-sleeved tunic, dark-washed skinny jeans, and a dark gray knitted, infinity scarf. I throw my hair up into a high ponytail and tease it a little to give it a little extra “oomph”. I do my usual make-up but still added my glasses. I finish the look off with light brown boots and my usual necklaces and earrings. With a few spritzes of some body spray, I'm finally ready. I grab my stuff, leaving with Lizzie.

When we arrive on campus, I see Sebastian waiting in the front of the main building for me like we always did every morning. As I walk up, he shakes his head at me. “You really don’t like to listen, do ya?”

“Nope!” I smile, putting extra emphasis on the “p.” “That’s something you’re going to learn about me pretty quickly.” I stop in front of him. “And by the way, this is for you, idiot.” I poke him in the stomach which was unsurprisingly firm.

“Well in that case…” He throws his arm around my shoulders, kissing my cheek, and escorts me to class. “Good luck with the man.” He whispers before kissing my cheek again and walking down the hall. I roll my eyes and enter the lecture room.

Class wasn’t too bad. He gives us free reign on what we wanted to write about this time. It was nice actually. I just jot down a couple paragraphs about my ideal date and what that would entail. I saw something on Pinterest that I have yet to show Sebastian of a round bed that’s suspended over a lakeside. I have no idea where that could possibly be done or have that sort of thing, but it’s been on my bucket list ever since I saw it a few years ago. We would go around sunset, have a nice dinner on the lake side, then get on the suspended bed, and have a relaxing evening over the lake in the moonlight. Just spending time together in a magically romantic setting is what I would call the perfect date.

When I hand in the finished paper, Chris asks me what time I would be done with my classes so he knows when I will be by.

“I should be done at or anywhere around four. Your office?” He nod so I take that as my cue to leave. I get my food once I get to the dining room and find a table. Sebastian and Lizzie walk up at the same time, talking animatedly about who was the best superhero. I love that they get along really well. If the guy I’m interested in doesn’t get along with my best friend, then I can’t be with that guy. Lizzie is my best friend in the entire world. I will choose her over a guy any day of the week. “Chicks before dicks” as we say. She is going to be around a lot, since we live together. And if things were awkward because they didn’t like each other, well then things aren’t going to end well with the guy.

“So, are we going to meet up after you’re done with your meeting?” Lizzie asks after concluding her argument with Sebastian.

“If you want to wait, that’s fine. If you don’t, I’ll just take the bus home. I don’t exactly know how long this little meeting will be since I have no idea why he wants to meet with me.” I roll my eyes. We already had our meeting to “get to know me and my writing style.” What more could he possibly have to say?

“I’ll wait for you,” Sebastian volunteers. “I have to ask the theater director a few things before rehearsals tomorrow. I can bring you home after, if you want.” He shrugs like his offer wasn’t a big deal, but to me, it was. Is it bad that my heart swelled a little at his generosity? I know he’s here anyway, but still. Just the smallest gesture goes a long way with me.

The rest of lunch goes by quickly, as well as my last two classes. Sebastian and I walk to our class as always and he even walks with me to Chris’s office building before we parted ways. I take a deep breath before entering the building. When his office door came into view, it is cracked so I take that as an invite in.

But when I enter the room, I am not prepared for what I saw…

Chris in a serious lip-lock with a brunette.

He’s sitting on the edge of his desk and she has her entire body pressed up against him. His hands are resting on her hips while hers are wrapped around his neck. I could see the usage of tongue on both of their parts which completely grossed me out.

“Oh God!” I blurt, trying to shield my eyes, but it was too late. I had already seen too much. My outburst seemed to tear them apart. The look on her face made it obvious she was pissed for someone interrupting. His, on the other hand, was filled with shock, embarrassment, and was that a little bit of guilt? “Get a room next time.” I slam the door shut, effectively canceling our meeting.

“Amara, wait!” I hear him shout as I retreat down the hallway. There is no way in hell I would “wait” and listen to his explanation. He doesn’t owe me one. I’m his student. Nothing more… Then why did my heart feel like it was breaking?

“Amara!” His shout is louder this time. I turn to see him coming down the stairs to where I was now.

“If you needed to cancel our meeting, all you had to do was let me know.” I continue down the stairs, not wanting to look at him right now. All I could see was the two of them.

“I didn’t know she would be coming in. I told her that I had a meeting today.” He tried to explain while following me.

“Who is she, huh? Is she your girlfriend?” I turn to see his face. I wanted to know if he would lie to me. That is something I would not tolerate.

He didn’t say anything, though. His fists clenched and unclenched like he wanted to do something but was holding back. His eyes echoed his body language. As he stood at the top of the staircase, he almost looked guilty again. But guilty of what?

And then it clicked…

“She’s your fiancée.” He didn’t have a ring on his finger, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t. I only saw the right side of her so I could have totally missed a rock on her left hand…

Again, he said nothing. He instead looked down as if he were ashamed to admit it. He’s ashamed he got caught; ashamed that he was in a committed relationship when he was with me just a few weeks ago. He cheated on her. With me.

“Unbelievable.” I spit before exiting the stairwell. This time he didn’t follow me. He knew he couldn’t say anything anymore since we would be in public. But that’s okay. I was done with this conversation. I was done with him. From now on, nothing ever happened between us. That night didn’t occur. I went to the bar that night, wrote a little bit, then went home. He and I don’t know each other outside of school. He is my professor. I will see him on Mondays and Wednesdays at 11 until 12:30 and that’s it. The only times I will see him outside of class is when we have a meeting about mid-terms and finals. I will not allow myself to be swept away by him again. I will not let that happen.

Chapter Four- Destiny

Permanent taglist: @elusive-beauty @drakesfiance @im-a-slut-for-an-accent @fantasy-is-my-reality @naniky

[yallreddieforthis]

I Can’t Believe It’s Not Richie

Fandom: It (2017)

Pairing: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier

Rating: T (for language)

Words: 2.7k

Pre-relationship. Movie canon-compliant but not book. Also posted on AO3

The Greater Fool Series: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 4.5 (NSFW) | Part 5

It seems impossible that a person can be both that shitty and the shit at the same time but like...it’s Richie. And since Richie doesn’t give a single fuck about following any kind of rules, Eddie guesses the ones that govern Eddie’s emotions don’t apply to him either. Greaaaat.

Sometimes Eddie can't believe it's Richie.

Maybe even most of the time, like when everything out of his mouth is your mom and my wang and it's just words, it's not even funny, and Eddie can only tune him out or try to talk over him. Richie cannot shut the fuck up for one goddamn second. And it's not even like Eddie can pin it to anything specific—like, oh, Richie talks more when he's angry or nervous or excited—because he does it when he's every one of those things and any other thing besides. The tone may change—the subject matter even—but the talking. Never. Stops.

Eddie doesn’t really consider himself a beacon of cultural knowledge, but he does own a TV. So he at least has a vague idea of what a British person might sound like, which is more than he can say for Richie. Richie also owns a TV, and yet his British Guy impression is so god-awful that Eddie has to assume he’s basing it on someone’s description of a fever dream they once had about a London street urchin from the eighteen hundreds. This only applies to the actual words though, not the pronunciation—which is pretty much indistinguishable from just Richie being Richie—and that’s across the board for all the voices, not just the British Guy. For someone who loves imitating other people as much as Richie does, it’s unbelievable how remarkably all his Guys sound like they’re from Derry, Maine. Because shouting out mangled phrases he half-remembers from the time he watched Mary Poppins six years ago—in the most American voice imaginable—is still somehow Richie’s interpretation of a British accent.

That isn’t even the worst part of The Voices though. The worst part is that Richie seems to have a sixth sense that alerts him to the exact moment at which it would most infuriate Eddie for him to do one, and invariably it’s as if a little light goes off in the least-developed part of his brain that says Time To Be Italian! (or Southern, or German—he has a constantly expanding, but not noticeably improving, repertoire) and it’s like he just has to do it right then. Sometimes it makes Eddie want to scream at him. Sometimes Eddie does scream at him. But screaming makes no difference; Eddie knows perfectly well that Richie will absolutely do it again the second the urge strikes him, no matter how inappropriate the timing or what Eddie does in reaction.

He's fucking gross too. Not necessarily grosser than the rest of them, but he certainly subscribes to the teenage boy brand of hygiene that dictates that he only really has to shower when Eddie finally shoves him away with a you smell like a sweaty nutsack. Of course then Richie inches closer and it's all how would you know, huh? and Eddie has to be like because I have nuts too, dipshit, and if you never wash them you'll—

And then all his warnings about bacteria and fungal infections are drowned out in the your mom and my wang and vague, half-heard rumors Richie repeats about people from school that Eddie knows aren't true, and he's pretty sure Richie doesn't even believe himself. Fuck him and his terrible, nasty-ass jokes.

Some days he thinks Richie purposely doesn't shower specifically so that he can torment Eddie with his unbearable boy stank. Or how he'll like, step in dog shit and just sort of shrug and wipe the sole of his shoe in the grass and then keep going with whatever he was doing like he's not literally tracking shit everywhere. If Eddie were to step in dog shit—which he wouldn't because he watches where he's going like a sane person—it would bring his entire day to a screeching halt. He gets that he's in the minority when it comes to these kinds of things, but he doesn't get why.

And then Richie has the audacity to suggest that Eddie's just as bad as the rest of them—when he says things like you’re convinced your shit doesn't stink, or it’s the smell of your own breath wafting back in your face—like he thinks Eddie is kind of gross too. Which shouldn't bother him, but it does. Somewhere very, very deep down in his gut he has a nagging suspicion as to why that might possibly be, but he's hell-bent on ignoring it at least until the inevitable destruction of the planet Earth, if not even longer. And that’s going like...pretty well for him. Reasonably well. Maybe a little less well than it used to be, but he's almost fourteen now and he thinks he should probably have a solid handle on the whole thing within the next couple of years.

But even if Richie wasn't either of those things—annoying, disgusting—there's nothing really exceptional that he is. It's not like he's a genius; the gigantic, goofy glasses make him look smarter than he actually is, and he gives as few shits about school as he does about anything else. Eddie is sure that Mrs. Tozier has never been to a parent-teacher conference where she didn’t hear the phrase if he only applied himself, and he’s equally sure that every one of the teachers who said it knew that they were wasting their breath. If Mrs. Tozier—or anyone else—stood even the slightest chance of motivating Richie to care about pre-algebra, there would have been upward mobility in his GPA long before now. Eddie has to assume he does at least some homework—if for no other reason than because he hasn’t been held back yet—but as far as he can tell, Richie bent over a textbook at home is a sight as yet unwitnessed by mankind.

Richie’s not athletic either—by any definition of the word—at least not until they decide to make Competitive Talking an Olympic sport. He’s really good on his bike, but that’s a skill he developed out of practicality because the alternative is being stuck walking all over Derry, and it’s not like being able to ride a bike is something to brag about because even Eddie can do that. But Richie’s not a fast runner. He can’t do a push-up unless it’s the kind that only count as push-ups when girls do them, knees on the ground. He can’t even throw a spitball into a trash can from three feet away (his performance in the Rock War against Bowers and his goons was a crazy, adrenaline-fueled exception)—and like, okay, the bad aim can probably be chalked up to his horrendous eyesight, but even beyond that there’s this general, overall lack of coordination. Eddie has what amounts to a universal pass that effectively excuses him from participating in PE for his entire school career, so he’s never been physically present for what goes down on the yard, but he can pretty much piece it together from the scrapes and bruises all over Richie’s arms and legs. It doesn’t matter what unit they’re on—dodgeball, baseball, soccer, tetherball—Richie plays only one position: target.

He doesn’t fare any better in the kind of extracurriculars that teachers and parents care about, like music. Richie is an aggressively bad singer—a fact Eddie is forcibly reminded of every time anyone has a birthday because Richie always makes a point of sandwiching Eddie between himself and someone who won’t run away (usually the birthday kid’s mom) while he belts out an eardrum-shattering rendition of Happy Birthday at the top of his lungs. Richie seems to interpret birthday party invitations as personal challenges for him to sing louder and worse, challenges he has so far risen to spectacularly on every occasion. The song gets longer each time too, because he never forgets to include Frankenstein on channel nine and the big fat lady on channel eighty and whatever new, ruder verses he’s scrounged up out of nowhere between the last birthday party and this one. Richie’s singing is actually one of the most obnoxious things about him, in Eddie’s opinion, which is really saying something.

He is so unrestrainedly, deliberately awful that Eddie could honestly imagine some idiot adult who doesn’t know Richie listening to him screech the chorus of Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go over and over in Eddie’s ear (the newest sabotage tactic he’s been deploying at the arcade to try to make Eddie lose at Street Fighter) and thinking wow, maybe that kid actually has a beautiful singing voice but doesn’t want anyone to know because he’s worried people will make fun of him. They would be wrong, of course, because even when he’s not actively trying to suck, Richie can’t sing for shit. Eddie doesn’t have to know anything about music to be able to tell that Richie’s real singing voice—the one he almost never uses—is flat and off-key. And forget about instruments because whenever someone makes the mistake of letting him get his hands on one, he immediately tries to shove it down his pants—or worse, Eddie’s pants—and pretend it’s a wang.

There’s art—and Eddie has noticed that being a really good artist can absolve someone of the sin of sucking at everything else. Bill, for example, is talented enough with watercolor pencils that if he drew people’s attention to his sketches, he could probably get away with not knowing how to write a half-decent thesis statement or multiply fractions (even though Bill does know how to do those things) because people would just affix the tortured artist label to him and stop giving him shit about the stutter. And Richie actually draws a lot—probably as much as Bill if it’s purely a question of quantity over quality—it’s just that the only things he seems to be interested in drawing are dicks, and the places he chooses to draw them are all technically the property of the Derry Public School District. Also, his fine motor skills are at least as bad as his gross ones, because his handwriting looks the way his singing voice sounds, and the dicks he draws make Eddie question if Richie has ever even looked in his own pants before.

And yet, despite all of the incontrovertible evidence that Richie is actually a walking disaster, there are other times that Eddie can't believe it’s not Richie to everyone else. Or even like anyone else.

It could be argued that it’s almost inevitable due to the sheer volume of jokes he tells, but every so often Richie will get one absolutely, unassailably right. His timing, his word choice—the heavens open, the planets align, and suddenly everybody around him is laughing so hard they can't breathe, Eddie included. His eyes usually end up watering when it happens, but he squints through them to look at Richie because in those moments, Richie glows like nothing else. He tries to act like it isn’t a big deal that everyone is pissing themselves from whateverthefuck he just blurted out of his incessantly flapping mouth hole, but Eddie can tell how thrilled he is when people actually find him funny. It's happening more and more often nowadays, enough so that Eddie sometimes wonders if maybe Richie is wasting his time at school after all. And who needs sports or music or art anyway?

And he could be a whole lot worse about Eddie’s germ thing if he wanted to be, like how some people give him hell about the pills and the inhaler and the hand washing. Richie doesn’t have detergent hands but he sure as shit will mouth off to anybody who gives Eddie a hard time about his. He can’t say Richie doesn’t at least try to look out for him, in his own weird way. Or Bill, or Stan, or Mike, or any of them. It causes more trouble than it’s worth more often than not, especially because Richie doesn’t have any discernable muscle with which to back up his shit-talking, so it probably would honestly be better if he would just like...not. But Eddie can’t really help appreciating it all the same.

But the hardest thing to ignore about Richie—and Eddie wouldn’t admit this to anyone, even under threat of death by clown—is that his memories of what Richie did for him over the summer have become a kind of personal, private shield against fear. They all try to avoid thinking about It as much as they reasonably can (which isn’t much; it’s not like you just go and forget about the time you and all your friends climbed down a haunted well so you could almost get eaten by a demon clown in the sewers), but Eddie’s positive he isn’t the only one who lies awake at night when the sound of his own pounding heartbeat is making him too nauseous to sleep.

The lights are off because it’s almost worse when they’re on. Maybe if he can’t see It coming, it’ll just eat him real fast and get it over with before he even knows what hit him. Still, he doesn’t want to die—instantly is preferable to slowly, but even better is not at all. So he’s developed a set of dozens of little rules for himself to follow—like no turning over, no breathing too deeply, no limbs outside the covers, no long, slow blinks (quick ones are okay; otherwise it’s eyes all the way closed or all the way open). Realistically he knows that not a single one of these rules means jack shit to anyone outside his own brain, but somehow no-ing himself into what amounts to a vegetative state eventually bores him to sleep. Okay, usually it does. More like occasionally. Actually it’s only worked like twice, but whatever. He’ll take what he can get at this point.

Sometimes Eddie thinks he has it worse than anyone else. Well, maybe not worse than Bill. But the rest of them—he isn’t sure if any of them can really understand exactly how fucking useless he felt down in that god-forsaken lair with his arm in a cast. Bill and Beverly were awesome, Mike was like a goddamn soldier, Stan was great after he’d finished crying and even Ben, who Eddie basically thinks of as the most inoffensive kid on the planet, was tough as balls. And Eddie felt like a worthless piece of shit. He hates his arm for being broken, and he hates his nightmares for always including the broken arm. It’s coming at him—just him—and his arm is hanging limply and there’s not a goddamn thing he can do—

And that’s where Richie comes in. Only when he thinks about Richie bitching Bill out for getting them all into this shit situation while inching toward the mountain of broken toys, Richie grabbing a baseball bat and saying now I’m going to have to kill this fucking clown...only then does the terror that surrounds him all through the night start to ease up.

And then he thinks a little further back about when he fell through the floor and broke his arm in the first place, about how all his friends were crowding him and freaking the fuck out, and Richie just looked at his arm and said he was going to set the break and snapped his bone back into place while Eddie shrieked at him to do not fucking touch me. Just like, grabbed his arm where it was dangling the wrong way and fucking did it.

Sometimes… Sometimes Eddie is positive that if It were to show up in his house on any given night, Richie would immediately come crashing through his bedroom window, swinging a baseball bat. Because somehow Richie would know if It returned, would know It was coming for Eddie, would show up in time. He’d show up and keep his shit together while Eddie couldn’t. He’d probably sometimes miss with the bat, but Eddie kind of suspects that it wouldn’t matter. Richie would stand between Eddie and It and just sort of suck all the scary out of the room with his endless, pointless trash-talking. And when Eddie thinks about it that way, it’s like you know what? Screw John McClane; Richie Tozier is Eddie’s hero.

And then Richie sticks his sweaty armpit in Eddie’s face and goddamn it Eddie can’t believe it’s Richie.

[breeeliss]

[Miraculous Ladybug]: The Perks of Being a Rich Kid

short commission i did for @leoqueen082​ :) 

fun fact: people really forget that these two kids are filthy rich and probably run in the same circles all the time. which makes for some interesting convos :P

Link to Archive of Our Own: [AO3]

Title: The Perks of Being a Rich Kid Pairings/Characters: Gen fic, Chloe & Alix Summary: Chloe and Alix bond after getting sent to the principal’s office

The Perks of Being a Rich Kid

Useful bit of information that Chloé learned today: there was a limit to how much trouble her last name was capable of getting her out of.

Which, seriously, how ridiculous was that? What was the sense of being the daughter of the most powerful man in Paris if she wasn’t going to be totally immune to punishment? She tried to explain that to her teacher but he didn’t seem to appreciate it very much because here Chloé was, getting sent to the principal’s office with a bag full of extra credit homework that was going to take her hours to do.

Sabrina really picked a horrible day to be home sick with the flu. Chloé had been doing her nails during history class this entire quarter and now she had to write a whole paper by Thursday.

To be fair, Chloé kinda toed the line a little close today. Not that she’d ever admit that to anyone other than her father who was going to love an explanation for the mess she’d gotten herself into. That was going to be a fun conversation. She wasn’t sure if her justifiable hatred for Marinette Dupain-Cheng was going to be enough to let her off the hook, and that was the real travesty of the day. Because seriously, this was all Marinette’s fault.

But whatever. At least Chloé got her revenge. Definitely worth potentially losing her credit card privileges over.

M. Damocles was busy scolding a student in his office while another three sat right outside the door awaiting their own lectures. Chloé snorted when she realized that one of them was Alix who was crouched over her handheld and growling at the video game she was playing while she waited. Well, that explained why she wasn’t in class last period.

It was funny that people complained so much about Chloé (almost) never getting in trouble because of who her father was. Alix got sent to the principal’s office at least four times a week and only ever left with a slap on the wrist because of who her father was.

Figures. M. Kubdel gave a monster of a donation to the school last year.

Chloé laid her jacket down on the floor and sat down next to Alix. “You know he’s going to confiscate that when he comes back out here, right?”

“Eh, I’m already up shit creek as it is, can’t possibly get any worse.” She waited until she was finished passing the level she was on before she looked up. “The more interesting story is the fall from grace you must have suffered to be sitting out here with us.”

Chloé rolled her eyes. “Don’t rub it in.”

“I can’t believe that the one time Chloé Bourgeois gets sent to the principal’s office, I miss it. Talk about shit luck. What’d you do? Curse out Mme. Mendeleiev because the lab goggles messed up your foundation?”

“Would you let that go?” Chloé glared. “And no, that’s not why I’m here.”

“Yikes,” Alix laughed. “Who’d you kill?”

“No one. It was a brief altercation.”

“Brief my ass. You wouldn’t be here if it was brief. Spill.”

Chloé shifted. “I...may...have gotten into a fight with Marinette.”

“Yeah, dude, that happens like every five seconds.”

“No like an actual fight. Like I might have lunged over the desk and yanked at her pigtails.”

Alix’s head snapped back as she cackled loud enough for it to echo all the way down the hallway. “No you did not!! You catty maniac!!”

“She called me a soulless hag!” Chloé defended. “How was I not going to put my hands on her?”

“You need a therapist,” Alix suggested. “Like I’m talking thousands of euros in anger therapy. You’re a liability.”

“Screw you. What are you here for?”

Alix shrugged. “Rollerblading in the courtyard. Kim dared me. Couldn’t say no.”

“You mean you did it because you knew you wouldn’t get in trouble for it.”

Alix pointed in Chloé’s face. “Hey, Damocles is afraid of my father because he needs to keep the donations coming. You make him afraid of yours. Don’t lump me together with you.”

“Please, just admit it,” Chloé smirked. “You’re a rich kid with perks.”

“Of course I’m a rich kid with perks. You, on the other hand, are a rich, annoying, prissy, spoiled kid with perks. And guess who everyone hates?”

Chloé gasped. “No one hates me!”

Alix stared at her for a long moment. “Dude….do not start with me right now.”

“They don’t!” Chloé insisted. “They just….they’re jealous. Because I’m famous and Daddy gets me whatever I want.”

“God, I’m gonna vomit. Here, open your bag so that I don’t get it on the floor.”

“Gross!! Stop it!! You’re such a freak!!”

“You sat down and started talking to this freak so joke’s on you, my dude.”

Chloé pursed her lips. “Force of habit. Don’t read into it. Besides, what’s your excuse?”

Alix squinted her eyes and tilted her head. “It’s weird because you’re like ridiculously annoying and I kinda wanna run over your face about ninety percent of the time, but the other ten percent of the time you’re oddly entertaining. Like if I needed a good laugh, all I’d have to do is insult your contour.”

“My contour is immaculate!”

“See?”

“Shut up.”

Alix stuck out her tongue. “I will say: the level of shade you dish out during all those benefit parties we hate going to sustains me.”

Chloé smirked. Their fathers had been friends for years —  long before M. Bourgeois got into politics and M. Kubdel became an art curator. That meant that every art exhibition, campaign fundraiser, charity gala, and Christmas party that either man decided to hold, you could bet that Chloé and Alix were both going to be there suffering through the entire thing with no one but each other for company. Alix told her that the momentary truce was worth listening to Chloé roast all the pathetically dull boys that always asked Chloé to dance, and Chloé had to admit that watching Alix threaten to scoop out old men’s eyeballs with a melon baller was quite satisfying.

“Daddy forces me to go to those parties because he wants me to be nice to the sons of all the politicians he tries to cozy up to,” Chloé shrugged. “Not that I don’t want to see him reelected, but I only have so much patience.”

Alix shrugged. “I think my mom just wants to see me in a dress for once. Everytime I shop in the boy’s section she has an aneurism. It’s great.”

Chloé nudged her. “Remember that time you panicked and invited me over to your house because you had to get ready for our New Years’ party and you had no idea how to do your makeup?”

“Um,” Alix glared, “the whole point of that momentary lapse of judgement was that we were never supposed to talk about it. Like ever. To no one.”

“Who doesn’t know how to put on mascara? I learned that when I was ten.”

“Not everyone sleeps with a Lanc ô me palette under their pillow, Chloé . But anyway. I had a point I was arriving at before you distracted me.”

“The anticipation is killing me.”

Alix ignored her sarcasm and waved her in closer so that the other students in the hallway wouldn’t hear them. “I have to ask because sometimes I think your stupidity is genuine and not you pretending to avoid conversations that bother you. You... do know that no one in class likes you, right?”

Chloé straightened her shoulders. “That’s not true. Adrien and Sabrina like me.”

“Sabrina doesn’t count, she’ll shine your shoes if it meant getting on your good side. And Adrien likes you because that kid’s got too much faith in the world and thinks you’re gonna do a huge turn around any day now. Everyone else low key wants to smash your face through a window everytime you so much as open your mouth.”

“Gee. Thanks.”

Alix lifted her hands. “Listen, I’m being honest with you. And I’m only telling you this because I happen to know that you’re not a total brat.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, when we go to those parties? You’re like...not awful. You’re kinda tolerable to be around. I think it’s because there you’re not trying to impress anybody and here you’re forcing everyone to kiss the ground you walk on because you value your school reputation over all else. You try too hard and you come off as a total pain in the ass. It’s starting to seriously piss everyone off.”

Chloé blinked. That was a disturbingly thoughtful answer, especially coming from Alix. “Since when are people pissed off at me?”

Alix’s face fell. “Are you seriously that clueless?”

“If people were so mad about my behavior, they’d tell me,” Chloé reasoned. “Marinette’s the only one who hates me as far as I can tell.”

“That’s because Marinette’s a badass who isn’t afraid to say what everyone else is thinking,” Alix pointed out. “They just don’t want to say it themselves.”

“Why wouldn’t they want to say it?”

Alix rubbed her hands down her face and groaned, slapping her cheeks a little at the end. “Ahhh, okay, okay, you’re blonde so I guess I have to dumb this down for you.”

“Oh screw you!”

She snapped her fingers. “Okay. You know that Italian art collector that my dad invites to art exhibitions all the time? M. Fellini.”

Chloe pouted. “Not ringing a bell.”

“He’s the one that always sounds like he has a sinus infection.”

Chloe face lit up. “Oh my god, yes!”

The joke was fresh in their minds because they both pinched their noses, lifted their chins, and said “Ah, buonasera mademoiselles, don’t you just look lovely this evening!” before collapsing into laughter when they heard how ridiculous they sounded. Honestly, that never got old. Chloé was half tempted to tell her father to send him some cold medicine for Christmas.

Alix rubbed away the tears from her eyes. “Anyway. We can agree he’s a total asshole, right?”

“He’s an old, skeezy, misogynistic snob. Asshole is too tame an insult.”

“Everyone and their mother is on the same page as you,” Alix explained. “But no one ever says that to him. People either ignore him or keep being nice to him no matter how much they wanna punch his face in.”

“I’m assuming there’s a point in you bringing him up.”

“People don’t confront him about being a jerk because he’s one of the richest and most successful art curators in Italy. Insult him and you can say goodbye to doing any kind of meaningful work with him in. Which, in the art world, is social suicide. It’s the same with you.”

Chloé scowled. “You’re comparing me to that wrinkled old sack of broken dreams?”

“It’s a perfect comparison. You got Alya suspended for taking a picture and you tried to get Marinette arrested for supposedly stealing your bracelet. Like, come on dude. People are terrified of you.”

Chloé crossed her arms. “They both deserved that! Alya was invading my privacy and there’s still no proof that Marinette wasn’t involved in that whole bracelet nonsense.”

“And I’m assuming Marinette also deserved you attacking her in class today and that you sitting here is an injustice to humanity. Pretty sure Damocles and your dad are gonna totally side with you when they hear you put your hands on someone because she said something a little mean.”

Chloé looked down at her nails. “You’re being sarcastic…”

“Yeah no shit, queen bee,” Alix scolded. “Here’s a wild concept: if you want to make friends, you have to actually be nice to people. Crazy, I know! Life hack of the year!”

“I try to be nice to people!” Chloé said. “But you’ve got people like Marinette who — ”

“Nope,” Alix interrupted. “Stopping you right there. Marinette has never done anything to you. Marinette’s a freaking angel. She’s nice to everyone who’s nice to her back. The only reason you hate her is because she’s more popular than you are, so you overcompensate by trying to make yourself seem like you’re better than everyone else. Except that doesn’t make anyone want to be friends with you. That makes people wanna stay away from you.”

It was only because Alix lecturing Chloé was such a bizarre occurrence that Chloé stayed quiet and let her words sink in. She wanted to brush it off and assume that Alix was just over exaggerating the situation, but then Chloé remembered a conversation she had with Adrien during his first week of school. She warned him about how hard it was to make friends when you were as perfect, beautiful, and rich as they were because everyone was automatically jealous of your success. That was why it was so important for Chloé and Adrien to stick together because she thought he’d suffer the same fate she did. But Adrien was as quiet, polite, and soft hearted as he’d always been as a kid, and that seemed to have waltzed him straight into the hearts of everyone else in the class in a matter of days. Chloé hadn’t quite figured out how he did that or how she was supposed to follow in his footsteps.

Chloé had always been more abrasive than Adrien — louder, more sarcastic, and harder to get along with. Maybe that was the problem. Although, Alix seemed to do just fine on her end.

She flipped the questions around. “Well, how did you make friends?”

Alix shrugged. “It’s not like I tried. I don’t act different depending on the situation. I just am and people just come. Kim was my first friend because we loved competing with each other. Then Kim’s friends became my friends and it just kept going.”

“That’s what Adrien said…”

“That’s pretty much how everyone makes friends,” Alix said. “Putting people down to lift yourself up doesn’t make people starstruck by you. It just makes you seem like a bitch.”

Chloé sighed. “Daddy says that in politics, in order to win, you have to show how bad the other candidates are in order to make yourself seem better. That’s why people vote for you.”

“This isn’t politics. Making friends isn’t about crushing the competition. You just….act normal and find people that vibe with your flow. Like I said. You’re chill when you aren’t trying too hard.”

“Seriously?”

Alix grinned. “You’re surprisingly hilarious. You’re also an enabler and a bad influence, but that’s a check in my book. Gotta appreciate people who talk you into stealing a thousand euros worth of silverware just to see if you can get away with it.”

“Can’t believe you actually did that,” Chloé laughed.

“Hey, like I said. I can’t turn down a challenge.” She paused for a moment and nudged her foot against Chloé’s knee when she saw her growing quiet. “Hey. I’m not telling you this stuff to make you feel bad or anything. I’m just telling it to you straight. But I also think you can do a turn around and start being nicer to people and make more friends if you cared enough to. You’re stubborn enough to pull it off.”

Alix wasn’t the type of person to put in this much emotional labor into another person, and Chloé knew that the polite thing to do was to at least thank her. But the words felt awkward on her tongue and betrayed her inexperience, so she decided it was best to just not say anything for now. Instead, she followed up with a question that was bugging her. “Why are you telling me all of this now?”

“Dude,” Alix snickered. “You got sent to the principal's office . That’s like the turning point of the century. Might as well take advantage of the momentum and use it towards something productive.”

The door to M. Damocles’s office flung open before Chloé could say anything else, and the student he’d been speaking to slunk through the hall with his head down and a slip of paper crumpled up in his hands. Probably a letter for his parents to sign. “Mlle. Kubdel!” M. Damocles’s voice rang. “It’s your turn. Please come in.”

Alix winced as she collected her bag and stood on her feet. “Womp. Time to face the music. Wish me luck.”

“You know damn well you’re not going to get in any trouble.”

“Wow, fine, I’ll wish myself luck.” She held out her fist. “Hang in there, you frilly little nightmare. If you apologize and cry a lot he’ll probably go easy on you.”

Chloé gently tapped her fist against Alix’s and have her a crooked smile. “Alright.”

Alix gave her a short salute before throwing her arms wide and skipping into M. Damocles’s office as if she were greeting an old friend. Chloé shook her head fondly and tried to think of what excuse she was going to open up with before it was her turn to go inside and explain herself. If spontaneously bursting into tears was all it would take to walk away with nothing more than a stern warning, Chloé was fully prepared to polish off all those acting lessons she took when she was little.

She hummed to herself as she pulled out her phone and started typing out her script. “Turning point, huh?” she muttered. Chloé was pretty sure Alix didn’t mean for that to be a challenge, but for some reason Chloé wanted to treat it like one. Alix’s specialty was planting seeds in people’s heads and sitting back while she watched them try to pull off the impossible. Chloé could always resent the fact that Alix was trying to get in her head, but it would be much more satisfying to exceed the girl’s expectations just so she could shove it in her face.

If Chloe could convince Alix to sit still long enough to put eyeliner on her for a party, she could handle being nice for one day, right?

[ac-ars]

What if I’m crazy in love with you?

it’s the last day and im super emo, super happy we managed through this shit and super proud of everyone! also im skipping bonus day since my lazy ass still hasnt written anything for my multichapter and that’s sad

you can call it PART 3, after days 4 and 6 apparently im too big trash for this au lmao

other ficweek fics

DAY 7: “It’s very rude of you to make me fall in love with you. Inconsiderate, really.”

What if I’m crazy in love with you?

Luna loves early mornings, she really does, especially since she can wake up next to her Matteo. Maybe it’s six am and she has a class in two hours, but so does he; if he drives her she is gonna make it getting up at seven. Sixty minutes of cuddling if he doesn’t decide to have a shower is perfect picture right now.

The sun is peeking through blinds on the windows, showing small dusts flying in the air like drunk airplanes and leaving on Matteo’s back light lines which she wants to trace so badly. She feels the soft, soft fur of their small girl against her thigh, so she pulls her up resting her next to the pillow. Lyra yawns soundlessly trying to reach Luna’s face with her paws, but she fails with sad meow. Brunette smiles at the kitten leaning to kiss her head and letting her nuzzle against Luna’s cheek. White, thin sheet is tangled around her naked body not letting her move freely much, but Luna doesn’t mind. It’s not like she has to move. The only move she makes is going closer to him and hugging him from behind. She presses soft kiss to his arm as he unconsciously takes her hand tangling their fingers together and leaning into her with small sigh. Lyra apparently wants to snuggle with her Matteo as well, because she steps over Luna’s hip and jumps to the bed by Matteo’s side before hiding under his neck.

He yawns and mumbles with this rough, deep voice. “What time is it?”

“Six,” she murmurs kissing him again. “Come on, cuddle me.”

Matteo whines quietly. “Let me sleep, I’m tired.”

Luna throws her leg over his hip pulling him closer and nuzzles her nose behind his ear. She can hear Lyra’s purring in the silence. “If you are tired maybe you should’ve gone to sleep earlier, don’t be like this.”

She can hear he lets out the air slowly when kitten meows agreeing with her, but he just kisses Lyra and mumbles: “In case you forgot, I wanted to go to sleep earlier, but you distracted me, little lady.” Matteo turns to her bumping his nose against hers with still closed eyes and getting completely annoyed meow. He hisses, so she probably scratched his back slightly too.

Luna pouts. “I can’t believe you are too lazy to cuddle me.”

“I will make sure you have double homework today.” He says moving her hair lazily away from her face.

Luna pouts but then smirks in the way she learned from him. “If the homework is you I am sure I will do it without any complaining.”

Matteo chuckles tracing her collarbone with tips of his fingers. “Maybe if you’re lucky enough you won’t have to do the exercises at home, you can always stay after class.”

She blushes hiding in the pillow. “Shut up, homework is for home, besides I need to leave right after classes.” His fingers find hers as he pulls her hand to his mouth to kiss it softly. His lips touch every single fingertip before he moves to knuckles to end leaving kiss on Luna’s wrist. Lyra pushes on his face to get kisses as well and he kisses even her paws when he asks asking:

“And why do you?” He raises one eyebrow.

“Because my boyfriend takes me out for a dinner and he can be very impatient” She giggles.

Matteo rolls his eyes at her putting Lyra to his pillow and turns Luna to her back hovering over her with smirk. His nose traces her neck as she leans her head back with small hum. He leaves one kiss on the base of her neck keeping his lips close for a little too long, but she can’t really care because she likes it either way.

“You little meanie, not only making up the dinner just now but also making me fall too deep in love with you to be annoyed by this. It was very inconsiderate, because now I can’t even say no to you.” She brushes her fingers through his hair pulling him up softly to kiss. Matteo grins against her mouth and rests his hand on her waist drawing circles on her skin.

“Your life without me was pretty boring, I’m sure of it.” Luna looks at him innocently when he pulls away and her smile is so sweet he’d say she tastes like frosting if he didn’t kiss her few seconds before.

“Let’s not mention how your life must’ve been a mess. You were eating takeouts and sleeping in those weird hours. Then I appeared and saved you from all bad things of course.” He winks at her and Luna rolls her eyes.

“You are so extra, but I love you so I won’t throw you off me. This time. Also look at you using the big L word.” She teases him slightly.

“I loved you even before I knew what love was.” Italian chuckles pressing his lips to her collarbone again and brunette smiles arching her back towards him, stretching like a cat.

“That sounds very nice, actually a little not like you.” Luna murmurs softly.

He can only chuckle. “Using L word so many times in five minutes?”

She giggles pulling Lyra’s paw and annoying her a little before she sends her a kiss. “More like being cheesy, but doesn’t matter. By the way of you mentioned food, will you make me a breakfast?”

Matteo sighs with a smile. “When have I not done you breakfast?”

She doesn’t answer, just smiling at him instead and closing her eyes. It’s so warm and comfy with him here that she doesn’t want to move for whole day at all; that’s what he’s done to her. He kisses her cheek moving his lips up to her ear making the warmth spread inside her chest. When she thinks he will tell her something cute again he just whispers. “I have to go to shower.” With that he takes one hand away from her and sits up.

“I hate you, I wanted cuddles.” She mumbles back because he is going to leave her in the bed cold and alone.

“You don’t, you do love me, little lady. You said it yourself. Look at it from bright side, you will be able to stare at me when I’m getting dressed later. And you have Lyra to cuddle now.”

Luna growls hiding in the pillow and covering her head with the sheet because there’s no way of that either. He will probably dig in his closet deciding what to wear today for fifteen minutes and ending up taking white shirt with dark pants. She doesn’t even need to bet for that. At least there’s Lyra stomping softly on her back and pushing her nose between Luna’s cheek and the pillow.

“We are gonna be so late, it’s all because of you, little lady.” Matteo rushes in the kitchen finishing his coffee quickly and looking for car keys.

“You left them hanging by the door. I am sure it’s all your fault, you are being extra slow since you woke up.” Luna answers rolling her eyes at him. She’s sitting on the counter, watching him as he keeps running around while Lyra is on her lap demanding all scratches.

He reaches for the tie hanging over back of the chair and goes to her to tie it for him. They both know he can do this; he had been for years but it’s still nice. “Yes, it’s because you didn’t let me sleep at night. You knew I had tiring evening.” Luna rolls her eyes focusing on the tie and Lyra wants to get lower buttons or Matteo’s shirt pulling and scratching them with her paws.

“You were thinking about last test, this could’ve been avoided if you left it for the weekend.” She fixes his tie for last time before putting her hands on his arms and kissing him softly. His arms wrap around her waist moving closer to her.

“Listen, baby, you do worry about exams before them and I do after them. Also I know you would find some other excuse during the weekend.”

Luna pouts because well, he is right, she would pull him to the couch and watch a movie cuddling, but he doesn’t need to know that. She just sighs and connects their lips again. Matteo smiles kissing her back a little longer than he should looking at the clock, but who would care about time while kissing Luna?

“We better get going if you want to be on time,” he mumbles as they pull away.

Brunette shrugs. “You have to be on time, I don’t need it that much, but yeah. Let’s go.”

Italian takes Lyra from Luna’s lap and picks her up kissing top of her head for a few times before telling her to be nice and letting her sleep on the bed again.

“You sure you have everything?” He asks Luna as soon as he’s closing the apartment door behind and taking her hand leading her to elevator.

Their fingers lace when she nods and waits for them to get down. Luna has always hated elevators; she tells people she doesn’t trust them, but the truth is she lowkey is never sure if the door opens back.

It’s not raining even if they said it would in forecast so there was no need to take the umbrella. Though Matteo has to be prepared in case it’s raining later. Luna still needs to get used to it because she wasn’t going to uni with him much before she moved in and she has all the fun to discover all of his daily routines.

They get into Matteo’s car throwing their bags on the backseat before he reminds her to fasten her seatbelt. Luna rolls her eyes, but does immediately what he says because he’s being cute making sure it’s all safe. He starts the car and no matter how many times she’s seen him driving she will still stare. Is it even possible to love the way someone is driving?

She gives him a kiss (ten kisses) before leaving the car and letting him find some parking place. They surprisingly aren’t late and Luna walks totally casually towards the entrance enjoying the sun on her cheeks. Just before the door Matteo catches her hand pulling her to his chest and kissing for a few times with big grin, that makes him look like teenager again.

“See you in a few?” he asks moving her hair behind her ear and Luna just nods with small smile.

“I love you very much, remember that.” It makes him smile even wider and kiss her again.

“I love you too, I’ll text you about the dinner.” Matteo sends her a wink and with another kiss he is gone, running probably to get his shit done before classes.

Luna finds her group friends waiting in front the class, gossiping about some stuff and probably commenting on last night’s game of their uni team. Luna doesn’t really care, she just saw the score. Matteo was more interested because he actually read the live comment, but it’s not like he’s that into football.

He would probably be if football was a constellation.

Some guy brings the key saying that they are supposed to get into the class so they do, taking their usual seats, yet she still looks for Matteo with her eyes. He’s not there long enough for her to take her notebook out and even run through last notes with her eyes before he enters the class pretending he’s completely casual and throws his bag to his own chair.

Everyone’s eyes are on him, because well, he was late and it happens to every single person in this group (Luna perfectly knows how it is) and he seems to be chill with the attention until someone asks.

“Matteo, can I have a question?” They wait focused all on him and he nods softly. “Is that a hickey on your neck?”

His eyes shot to Luna and all she can think of is oh shit.

[another-tired-anarchist]

New book about World War Three

I am working on a book that I am going to eventually publish (not online, through an actually publisher to be sold) that is about the Third World War. I am trying to decide if I want to publish the story online at all or just wait so it is completely a surprise when it comes out. The idea is that there is a college student, Kristian Walsh, who keeps having long dreams about soldiers during different eras in wars around the world. He starts having dreams, or "visions" of him fighting in world war three, a war that hasn't happened yet. He uses his so called visions to gain intel and tries to stop the war from happening. Anyway, I am done with two chapters so far but I figured I would post a preview of chapter one to see if anyone is even interested in the book or idea.

My ears were assaulted by a loud noise that I quickly identified as a bomb going off. I felt the ground beneath my feet shake violently causing the ground rushed up to meet me as I fell to my knees, my arms grabbing my head to hopefully provide some sort of protection. Once I felt enough strength I ran behind a large building and leaned against it. I don’t know what kind of bomb it was but telling from the sound and the strength it couldn’t have been that bad.

I clutched my gun to my chest and took a deep breath. The lingering smell of iron was haunting me, reminding me of the blood that soaked the once rich soil. I glanced around me, taking note of what buildings still remained knowing they might not be here for long. I made eye contact with another soldier clad in a green camouflage uniform. He nodded at me before walking out from the building he was behind. Our base isn’t far from here but according to the explosion a mere few moments ago the Russians may have found us. That or they are close. 

I ran my fingers through my brown hair, which was damp from sweat and a lack of proper bathing in at least 5 days. When I looked at the man again he was already at least 50 feet from me. I moved my gun so it hung across my back before sprinting after him. 

“Zamoroz'te!” Someone yelled in Russian. I saw the man freeze as three Russian soldiers came out from behind a building. Being a good distance away from him I quickly ducked into a large building. In this moment I felt so grateful to be positioned in Norilsk because it is an industrial city, full of large buildings. I looked threw the boarded up window of the old shop I was in.

I couldn’t hear what they were thinking but before I knew it the man’s body was on the ground, shot through the chest by the small hand held HELLAD the man is armed with. I felt bile rise in my throat as the two men walked away. I clutched my weapon closer. I know that this is a war but seeing death this close… it is hard. I slowly rose from the cold floor where I had fallen in case they look this direction.

After checking the space around me for any signs of movement I ran towards the man. I knew he was dead but the part of my heart that still had a shred of hope drove me to check for his pulse. I looked at his face and was flooded with guilt. This man had a life, a family. He had so much to live for. I took a deep breath. We all knew the risks… But we also know that if Russia wins this it is over for us all. I gently shut his eyes. He looks like he is sleeping. I took off my top layer and placed it over him, covering his face and part of his chest. 

To replace my upper layer I donned my quantum camo, wrapping it to cover me fully before I started the walk to base. I did not make it far before I heard the near silent rumble of military grade trucks. 

Goddamn it. I turned to my south and sure be it there was a group of trucks heading my direction, the hammer and sickle immediately giving away what side they fought on. I fought the urge to run, knowing it would leave behind footprints in the fresh mud. After taking a few small steps I swore, looking down at my 3 very prominent footprints. Looking up and seeing them close I made the decision to lay on the ground, atop my prints. For the first time in ages, I actually prayed. I awoke with a start, a scream trapped in my throat. I took a few deep breaths to calm myself. My face was dampened by the cold sweat I must have broken into at some point in the night. I glances around the darkness of my small room and grasped gently at the small black and white quilt. It was a gift from my grandmother when I graduated high school. She had passed away the year previous and given the blanket to my mother. I smiled at her memory. She was such an amazing woman. With an over exaggerated sigh I forced myself out of the warmth and regretted it the moment my feet hit the cold floor.

I could hear Jonathan’s music playing from his room down the hall. I grabbed a pair of socks and walked, or rather slid, down the small hallway to the kitchen to get some food. I opened the pantry and grabbed a half empty box of cereal. I really need to go shopping, we are low on literally everything. After grabbing a cracked porcelain bowl and pouring in a small portion I went and sat down at the small wooden dining table. 

“God-” I cut my profanity short as I got up again to grab a spoon. As I was riffling through the silverware drawer Jonathan came out of his room and met me in the kitchen.

“G’morning.” He mumbled, attempting to rub the sleep from his hazel eyes. In the mornings his voice usually holds the slightest British accent that he has lost since he moved to the states when he was young. I smiled at him as he grabbed a cup and paused.

“Kristian, do you want a cup of coffee?” He asked, turning on the balls of his feet to look at me. I nodded and went back to my bowl. He handed me the cup and started walking away with the pot.

“Test in Jurisprudence?” I asked, already knowing the answer. He nodded and took a sip from the pot.

“Test’s at noon, I have been up all night.” His voice sounded groggy as he took another swig from the pot. I shook my head as he left and took another bite of my cereal. That kid really needs to get some sleep. I’ll make him go to bed after the exam. I washed my bowl and spoon (Something that Jonathan apparently doesn’t know how to do) before going to my room to throw all of my things in my bag for period one. 

I have my class for Criminology which is in the west building, maybe a 15 minute walk from our shared apartment, right outside of campus. Maybe I will take my bike. As I slung my sky blue and tan bag over my shoulder I thought back to my dream. That is the sixth time this month that I have had a dream like this and I am in the dark for the reason behind them. The air that surrounds me is cold and brisk, the autumn wind breeze gently rustling the brown and orange tinted leafs as the world moved past me.

I drew my hands into the sleeves of my jacket, a small shiver working its way out from my core as a passed the fountain. This fountain always makes me think of my little sister Mia. She is only five but every time mum takes her to visit she loves to throw coins into the water. Everyone loves her so she gets a lot of attention and always ends up surrounded by college students offering her pennies to toss in after her cute little wishes. 

I parked my bike with a sigh with a sigh and made my way quickly to Mr. Gibbs room, hoping to get there in time to get a seat closer to the board to help with my poor eyesight, as well as to set up my laptop in peace. Unfortunately for me by the time I arrived there was already five or six people there. I popped in my headphones and pressed play on my playlist Weichei and the first song to play was Bees by The Ballroom Thieves. I smiled and put in the other headphone, letting the music carry my thoughts away to a beautiful place. 

My mind wrote with such fluidity that I didn’t fully process the words appearing on the paper. I hummed along with the music, feeling it reverberate in my very soul. To my despair the class started after only three short paragraphs. I took out my headphones and set them atop my desk. 

As the teacher droned on I let my gaze fall to my paper and my eyes scanned what I had written and much to my frustration I noticed that about halfway through one of the sentences my words switched from English to Italian, as happens every so often when I get distracted or frantic. I gripped my eraser and erased my work after memorizing the lines translation. 

“Kristian! This is no time for doodling, eyes up front please.” I lightly rolled my eyes before turning back to the board. ‘I once read that I should write something worth reading or I should do something worth writing about.’ I let my eyes focus back on Professor Gibbs. He was an older man, his hair becoming speckled with spots of grey. His eyes still held that spark that only passion can give. Even after 35 years of teaching he still had his passion and I will admit, I admire him for that.

My eyes began to wander around the room, landing on random students, my mind coming up with what their lives may be like. They landed on a boy, his curly jet black hair going to the base of his neck. His eyes gleamed with a curiosity, just like my own. I wonder what his life like? Does he still have all his family or did he lose his father young like I did? What does he do after class? Does he have a girlfriend? Boyfriend?

I focused back on Gibbs, trying to take in what he was saying but my mind seemed to be against me. Looking at the clock and an hour had already passed. I smiled and looked back at Gibbs for the remaining 15 minutes. With the knowledge that I am almost free the class seemed to pass quicker and before I knew it Gibbs was telling everyone their homework and excusing us. I quite literally shoved everything, with the exception of my writing notebook, into my bag before heading to the door. After throwing a fast “Have a good day” over my shoulder I left, just wanting to go back to my apartment.

[masterpiecejongin]

“Don’t trust the boy and his demon,Darling”(Chapter 2)

Prologue - Chapter 1 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

Pairing: Human!Jongin and Demon!Kai x reader Genre: thirller, fantasy, smut Warnings: Idk if there should be warings for this. There’s a bit of mental illeness, violence kinda, sassy Jongin and Kai lmao

I was running through the long hallway when the bell rang indicating the starting of morning classes. I entered the classroom with a quick spring and I recovered my breath, my hands on my knees. “Ugh, fortunately the teacher isn’t here..” I breathed heavily when a high pitched voice interrupted me. “Miss Y/L/N!” I raised my back and I was about to turn when I saw him. That weird demon was leaned against the window, his blond locks fell gently on his red sparkling eyes, and his lips drew an annoying(but sexy) smirk. “Miss Y/L/N!” the high pitched voice woke me up from my confused thoughts so I turned back forcing a smile. “You’re late!” the teacher scolded me. “I’m not really late, I was in the hallway when the bell ran-” “Were you or weren’t you in class?!” she interrupted me. I looked down, pretending I was sorry. “No, I wasn’t.” I whispered. She sighed and told me to go to my seat. I listened to her without saying other words.I turned to go in the right side of the class where my seat was when my body literally paralyzed. Jongin was sitting in a desk there right in front of me. He locked his dark eyes with mines, his expressionless face send shivers down my spine. What was wrong with this kid? I tried to ignore him and walked past him. Arrived at my seat I sat and snorted softly. Damn I already wanted to go home. While the teacher was talking about the next test two legs laid on my desk. I looked at my left and Kai was sitting on the windowsill looking down on me. I rolled my eyes, and kept on focusing on the teacher. He then leaned forward me and start to erase my homework. I widened my eyes seeing him, and I glared at him. I couldn’t stop him or say anything since no one could see him. I tried subtly to stop him but while doing it the teacher asked me for the homework. I looked at my notebook, they were all gone. “Ehm..Is it a good excuse saying that a demon has erased them?” the whole class laughed and made comments while the teacher told me to talk to her after the lesson was over. I was about to scream. The bell rang, and everybody moved out while I got up slowly walking toward the teacher’s desk. She told me she had to go somewhere before and to go to her office to talk. Jongin was still there too and I walked to him already ready to literally kill him. “Tell your demon to leave me alone.” I ordered him leaning against his desk. Kai came near me. “What? I don’t follow his orders.” he smirked looking at him. “I don’t fucking care, stop annoying me. Plus I don’t think it’s true. You were with him since he was little, he has certainly some control over you” I spatted. “Wow, and we thought she was dumb.” Kai laughed talking to the black haired boy. Shifting my attention to Jongin once again I locked my eyes in his dark chocolate ones. “It’s not my fault I can see him okay? It’s not my fault they sent me to your house. Just ignore each other, I don’t have time for your childish shit.” I stated before going out to talk to the teacher in her office. I could definitely feel their burning stares on my body while I walked away, but I didn’t know if it was a good or a bad thing. “It’s bad for sure, you’re so unlucky with these things.” I whispered to myself.

Almost two weeks passed and my two “friends” had come to school without annoy me. The bell rang and all the students ran in the cafeteria. I lazily climbed the stairs to reach the school roof. Arrived there the sharp air hit my body, but the sun was warm. I laid on a wooden table and stayed there to relax. The sky was clear and beautiful, some birds flew almost magically. I closed my eyes, in my mind my childhood memories played. I was playing with my parents in the garden of my old house. I sighed, I missed them so much. “Are you going to sleep there?” a voice interrupted my approaching nap. I sat and looked in the direction from where the voice came. I rolled my eyes when I saw Jongin near the roof door. Uniform black pants wrapped his long legs, thigh muscles lightly visible. His torso was covered only with the white shirt, its first buttons were opened giving me a glimpse of his bronze skin. I bit my lower lip, he was so fucking hot but he was also so annoying and weird. “Where is your buddy? Can’t you play with him?” I asked sarcastically. He smirked and looked me straight in the eyes with a challenging glare. “Why? Do you miss him?” he said walking toward me. I thought it was time to go, so I started walking too toward the door but he stopped me by grabbing my arm. “I can call him for you, If that’s what you want.” He whispered to my ear. I gasped, feeling his warm breath on my skin. After he whispered Kai’s name I felt two strong arms wrapping me. I turned my head to my left and his head was resting on my shoulder, his blond hair lightly caressing my cheek. Startled I wanted to move but the demon stopped me, he then chuckled while nearing to Jongin. I gasped seeing them so close. They were so fucking identical, my mind went blank for a second. The only differences were the hair color and their eyes, but their heights and bodies, even the aura was the same. I started to wonder how could that be. “What kind of supernatural powers does have Jongin to create an entity like this? How could he create Kai with the same aspect he would have had now?” my mind filled up with questions while I scanned every details of the two boys. “Are we that interesting?” asked Jongin while he placed himself by my side leaving Kai alone in front of me. I woke up from my trance when I realized Jongin’s hands brushed my hair back. “We’ll have to keep an eye on you. You’re kinda interesting.” Kai explained while Jongin’s hand caressed my neck. His fingertips climbed from my collarbone up to my ear sending shivers down my spine. Suddenly I felt a burning sensation, I gasped in pain and tried to touch my neck but Kai grabbed my waist and pulled me closer to him. His lips crashed with mines. I jerked my body to protest but it felt like my energy was being sucked away. I gave in the kiss, closing my eyes, it all felt warm but confused. Was I dying? I opened my eyes again when Jongin’s hands pulled me away from Kai and close to him. He looked at me smirking and then kissed my lips before I could talk. His kiss was as passionate and wet as Kai’s, I moaned against his lips. It felt so good, I didn’t want to stop but the pain of that burning sensation kept growing. I falled on the ground in pain. Tears almost filling my eyes. I touched my skin, there was a scar. I tried and figured out what it was. “We’ll know it if you’re doing something stupid.” Jongin started to speak. “Trust me, you better be a good girl..” I tried to listen to him but then the scar started to..move. They were roots, just like Kai’s one. The roots wrapped my neck and started to choke me. I quickly ran out of breath, I looked up praying him to make them stop. He lowered and caressed my cheek. “You have two options of dying. Either they choke you or break your neck. So… are you going to be a good girl for us, aren’t you?” he smiled. I nodded with a single tear rolling down my cheek.  The roots stopped wrapping my neck and went back to their initial state. I coughed and tried to catch my breath. Everything around me became confused, and only Jongin’s and Kai’s laughs could be hear while they disappeared from my sight. “Fuck, I got myself into troubles.”

A/N: Heyy! So here Chapter 2. (When I wrote it in Italian I didn’t like it, but in English I think it’s better lmao) I’m really thankful for all the feedback I’m recieving. This means a lot for me. My inbox is open so let me know what do you think about it or simply tell me anything you want. I still have another chap that may be boring but then, finally things will get smutty. ;)

Thanks for liking my story, have a good day! ♡