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mangoshorthand · 9 months

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Thing of the Past- [Five Hargreeves x F Reader]. Ch10 (Hard Feelings Part 4)

SUMMARY: You can't avoid it any longer: Five has to meet your parents. It goes more wrong than you could possibly imagine, spiralling to bring up secrets he'd rather stay buried.

⚠️TRIGGER WARNINGS⚠️ Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven/Epilogue

Though Five is rebuilding his confidence, you're starting to struggle with the knowledge.

Can you tell that the author REALLY wants to go to the South of France?

⚠️Please heed content warning⚠️

Chapter Ten: Doing it

The sky is a deep azure as you ride side by side. The sun beats down on the grapevines, seeming to bake the rich, earthy scent from the hills and valleys. You breathe it in deeply. Over several days, more of Five’s confidence has returned. This morning, when he woke you, he’d told you he had planned a day for you both. Hired bikes and cycling equipment waited outside.

His cycling shorts leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. When he’d first emerged wearing them, your eyes had swooped unconsciously down his body; toned calves and thighs, slightly tanned now from the sun. The way they clung to his package was on the borderline of indecency; you tried not to think about what it would look like if he got a boner.

“Yeah, I know I look good in shorts but my face is up here.”

You’d returned your eyes to his face, concerned about making him feel objectified in his current state of mind. Catching your guilty expression, he’d smiled, turned around and given his ass a small slap.

“You're a lucky girl. I thought I'd give you something nice to look at while you eat my dust.”

Now, voice raised over the air whipping in your ears, he turns to you:

“Now this isn’t so terrible, is it?”

His smile is broad and a little dorky beneath his cycle helmet. He looks as if he hadn’t a care in the world. He might be a man who’d never seen the end of the world, never lost family, never been hurt.

You both slow as the terrain becomes steeper, the path climbing you gradually out of the valley and towards the walled village perched on the hill in front of you. You tire sooner than him and he outstrips you. When you have to stop, he looks back once, winks and gives you the finger. You push your bike up the rest of the way.

The village’s heritage is medieval. Twelfth century ramparts in dried cobble stone like that of the resort loom larger the closer you get. Your heart hammers and your legs protest with the effort. Soon, you can see the gates and him waiting for you, leaning against the wall with a smug, self-satisfied look on his face. When he sees your exhaustion, he blinks to your side.

“Come on, dear one.”

He puts his arm around you and blinks you the last 200 ft or so. He locks up both of the hired bikes while you try to catch your breath.

“There’s a café just inside the gates. Let’s get you some water.”

"We-we need to get back to training when we get home." you gasp, "My fitness has gone to shit since Aoife was born."

"I'd like that," he says, laying a kiss on your sweaty forehead, "but all in good time. Just catch your breath."

You can tell he’s enjoying tending to you. He’s trying to rebuild his feelings of strength through nurture. And that’s ok with you.

Your morning’s ramble around the village is a very happy one. The towers offer beautiful, panoramic views down the valley, towards the horizon and sea. The fields stretch out like patchwork- greens of every shade and the occasional purple lavender. Down in the streets, narrow alleys wend their way higgledy-piggledy between buildings, wild wisteria draping elegantly here and there. It’s a place that gives you a sense of forgotten stories steeped in heritage. Five likes to think of himself as an intelligent man, but when he puts his hand on the walls and senses what he’d swear feels like their damn heartbeat, he can’t help but think they’ve seen more than he’ll ever know.

When he and Dolores would look at the stars, he’d found comfort in their dependable celestial course, yet they had made him feel even more remote and alone. These walls, by contrast, seem to have been constructed with no rhyme or reason, (at least to modern eyes) and yet the stones sing with humanity. They put him in touch with centuries, with one people across time. Even after he got back from decades in the apocalypse, he’d been mostly unable to shake the perception of himself as alone in the world- adrift and apart from others. Just walking among complete buildings had done nothing to clear the ruins in his mind.

But now, here he is under the baking Marseille sun. He’s touching walls that feel anchored into the very fabric of this landscape- evidence of human myth-making and endeavour enduring centuries. Now it’s easier to know that no man is an island…and not even his remarkable stories are new. Not really.

He seems peaceful over lunch. You sit on a restaurant terrace, providing you with a beautiful view down into the market square and the church, spire jutting into the sky. The food and wine this entire trip have been exquisite and this lunch is no exception.

The early afternoon bike-ride back to the resort is much easier than the one there. You free-wheel at least half way because of the incline back into the valley. After a couple of glasses of wine over lunch, you let yourself go as fast as the bike will take you. As you whoop with delight, you hear Five’s laughter and shouted warnings.

“Be careful! If you fall into the valley, I am not saving your ass.”

“Shut up, yes you would!” you yell over your shoulder.

He laughs his acquiescence as you continue to shriek with delight. Within a few seconds, he pumps his pedals to bring his bike alongside yours again. Now he’s yelling at the speed too.

You arrive back at the resort breathless and laughing. Five checks his watch.

“Half an hour until our massage. Just in time to shower and change.”

You wore the bikini again. It feels like a small act of support given that he’d persuaded you to wear it the first time. He’s still jovial when you enter the spa and sit in the pre-treatment lounge, sipping cucumber-water, but you can see him getting antsy as the time draws nearer.

“You can still back out.”

“No. It’ll be fine. My back needs it after being bent over on the bike and believe me, back pain will be no joke when your body’s getting towards fifty-five,” he lets out a slightly exasperated breath, “I’m not going to spend the rest of my life freaking out over this.”

You take his hand. He seems torn; annoyed at what he sees as unnecessary solicitude, but grateful for it nonetheless. His eyebrows lower even as he squeezes your hand appreciatively. When you’re called through to the treatment room, you lead him there.

He copes well. He only shows signs of discomfort at the start, (holding your hand between the two massage tables), but after about ten minutes, he relaxes. You hear him sigh a little as the therapist works the tension softly out of his back. In addition to his recent stress, his posture is god-awful, so he gets his money’s worth from the session. Knowing he’s relaxed allows you to do the same.

When you get in bed that night, he pulls you to him. You lie face to face on your sides. His eyebrows raise.

“Wanna do it?”

“Do it?” you repeat, “What are we, teenagers?” you put on a high-pitched gee-golly voice, “Oh boy, are we finally going to go all the way?”

“Are you capable of shutting up?”

“Mm…no.”

He grabs his crotch beneath the sheets, dick already hard in his fist.

“Well. Maybe I got something down here we can use to help with that.”

You hesitate only long enough to raise your eyebrows at him and then burrow under the sheets. He pulls his pyjamas down, cock bouncing invitingly as it’s set free from the waistband. This will be the first time you’ve touched him here in over three weeks. You look up at him.

“Are you sure?”

He doesn’t scowl, he doesn’t roll his gorgeous green eyes: he just smiles gently, eyes for once like tranquil pools you could sink into.

“Yes, beautiful.”

You hold his gaze for a second, half to ensure that all’s well, and half because you can’t look away. Then, satisfied you take him tenderly into your mouth. He gives a contented ‘mmmhh’ like he’s just sunk into a hot bath.

“I’ve missed this,” he whispers.

You don’t reply, enjoying his dick too much. The soft skin against your lips, the engorged tissue beneath, the familiar scent. You bob your head, sucking him on your upstroke. As he sighs again, you withdraw your mouth and tongue the entire length, up and down. When you meet his eyes, the cocktail of love and lust there is stupefying to be the object of. You can't do enough to satisfy the wild, confusing need it stirs in you. You want to cry, scream, kiss him, pleasure him, beg him, be him, worship him, become him: you're torn a thousand ways as his hands come down to lace themselves in your hair.

“Please can I…?”

You nod with him back in your mouth, desperate from within the clouded tumult of need.

“Put your hands on me then.”

You do, knowing from long experience what he means; he wants you to tap him if you need to stop deepthroating him.

His hips thrust forward and he fucks your mouth. You try to take it for as long as you can, just happy to have his dick inside some part of you after what feels like forever. You can’t see his face from under the sheets, but his shallow breathing, occasional grunt and dirty talk is enough to prove his enjoyment.

“Uh, I love you, you little cocksucker. Fuck that’s good.”

You tap him, pulling back, and he releases you. You feel saliva running down your cheek and eyes watering. You catch your breath and find yourself smiling uncontrollably. You’ve never been so happy to be called a cocksucker.

“I won’t last long tonight.” he says, “jerking myself off isn’t the same.”

You rise, almost reluctantly from his dick, "Then fuck me."

He looks down at you, eyebrow raised imperiously.

“That wasn’t very polite, now, was it? Ask nicely.”

“Please fuck me Daddy. I want your cock inside me."

It’s the first time you’ve used this alias since you found out you were pregnant with Aoife. It forces his mock-stern face into a smile.

“Daddy's still too weird."

"Sir?"

"Hm...better. Come here."

You straddle him and lay your torso across his, revelling in the warmth, the closeness. He smacks your ass playfully, making you jump and give a hissing intake of breath.

“Mm…I’ve missed that sound.”

“I’ve missed that feel.” you say, grinding downwards into his crotch.

He laughs softly. Behind you, you feel his hand directing himself towards your waiting pussy,

"Do you want to do it like this?" you whisper into his ear.

By way of answer, he eases his throbbing dick into you, hands coming to your hips, pulling you onto him right to the hilt.

Ecstatic fullness; blissful reunion.

“Ffffuuck” he groans.

He doesn’t hold back, enjoying your body as you’ve both been craving for days and days. This position is particularly good for you. It’s extremely intense, his cock nudging your cervix in a way that toes the line between immense pleasure and pain. He holds your hips firmly, thrusting up into you, giving little, rhythmic grunts along with the push of his pelvis. Your noises become higher and higher with the repeated pressure inside you, building in your stomach.

“Th-this is deep!”

“You like being on my dick, huh?”

"I fucking love it."

You bite your lip, hoping to keep your shrill voice quiet and start to rock yourself along with his thrusts, kissing his throat with desperate, saliva-laden intensity.

“Ugh- you're so fucking beautiful, darling. You like your husband pounding your little pussy?”

“Yes!” You feel pleasure build all over you, full body electric tingles.

"Yes, what?”

“Yes sir.”

“That’s right.”

His hips snap into you and his nails dig sharp crescents into the flesh of your hips. The sting goes right to your core. Exquisite, beguiling pleasure-pain. He’s close. His breathing is hoarse and harsh.

As you both reach the summit, you whisper a conversation of sorts: garbled sweet and not-so-sweet nothings: "God, that dick-" "Tight fucking whore-" "-right there-" "-make me crazy-" "-need you-" "-I love you so much." "-Come for me, baby. Fill me with it." "I'm gonna-"

He shouts as he releases, his body honest-to-god vibrating against yours. As he reaches the crescendo of pleasure, his fists ball into the swell of your hips. He yells, thrusts upwards and-

>ffshht<

You’re both on the floor a few feet away, a spatial portal closing behind you. The blink magnifies his upward trajectory, causing him to tip, you to overbalance and he to land on top of you.

“Shit…” he breathes. You feel the last little bit of come dribble out of him, onto your stomach now. He rolls off you and looks around, cock still twitching slightly.

“That’s never happened to me before.” he laughs, disbelieving, “Guess that’s one way to consummate the marriage.”

You hold each other for a while, there on the floor. Kissing and laughing, coming down from the high together with arms and legs around one another. .

Afterwards, you lie entwined together in bed.

“I think I’m ready to go home,” he says, as much to the ceiling as to you.

“Me too. I miss our girl.”

You’re both silent for a while, until you speak up again.

“You know it’s not over, right?”

He just looks at you, that brooding look back in his eye.

“All of that stuff; it’s a part of your story. It won't just go away. It will probably hurt again.”

He exhales moodily through his nose, “Well. We’ll see about that.”

“You have to live with it. Take it on. Not just push it away.”

“I coped before." his snappy impatience is back.

“Can you really just go back to ignoring it? And it’s not just The Handler, Five. Everything that happened. The nightmares…you know you still have night terrors too? I just stopped telling you about them.”

“And what exactly am I supposed to do about it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe start by talking to someone qualified to help you?”

“We talked about this.”

“No we didn’t; you just dismissed it. Your powers are quite well-known Five. You can explain what happened to someone bound by confidentiality laws. We can find you a doctor, someone who knows how to treat-”

“Treat me? For what?”

“PTSD, you fucking idiot!”

He looks thunderstruck so you backtrack slightly.

“I mean- I’m sorry- I don’t know. I’m not a psychologist, but you know there’s something wrong.”

He’s silent for a while. His face has taken on the angry, dissociative look that scares you. You let it take its course. His lips disappear, mouth thinning into a single line. When he speaks, his voice is menacing.

“I’d like to see anyone go through what I’ve been through and not be a little fucked up. You have no idea-”

You give a growl of vexation that’s almost a shout.

“It’s not an insult! You’re right, nobody could go through what you did and not get PTSD or whatever it is. The fact you’re even still alive is amazing. You’re right- I have no idea so I can’t help you in the ways you need,” your voice shakes; desperate, angry tears falling without your knowledge.

He looks at you, defensiveness gone in pure shock at your sudden breakdown.

“You think I d-don’t want to just take it all away? To just make it so it never happened? I can’t. Nobody can. I can’t help you and it’s fucking killing me!”

He grabs your wrists to slow your hands’ wild gesticulations.

“You need help and I can’t make you take it. But please; please try. For me; for our baby, Five. Please!”

You dissolve into sobs. For a few seconds, he does nothing, fingers digging into your wrists slightly painfully. And then he holds you to his chest.

“All right. All right dear one. I’m listening. Message received,” he rocks you, kissing your cheek, “just…this is something inside me. Give me time to work it out.”

For once, he sleeps well and you uneasily. The darkness eats away at your mind.

After a final goodbye to the resort the next morning, he'd set the briefcase to allow you to return home. He gave you a gentle peck on the lips as the portal consumed you both. When you broke apart, here you were, back in the Bridal suite at your wedding venue. Now, Five checks the clock complete with date display on the bedside table.

“Just as we planned: it's the day after the wedding, ten minutes after we left.”

“It’s…strange.” you look around, there’s your wedding dress, hanging just where you left it, "did...the honeymoon even happen?"

He smiles mischievously, "Oh, it happened. Look at the marks on your hips from last night if you don't believe me." and then, with a return to seriousness, "You’ll get your head around it. Gotta find a focus point. Shall I go get the baby?”

“Sure. I’ll pack up here.”

He looked down at the kill order for Anita and Ronnie Gill, flower merchants. It was stamped with A. J’s approval but it seemed...

Slowly, he raised his eyes to her face. She watched him with almost-benign interest, tossing her exquisitely curled hair over her shoulder.

“Execs never go on jobs.”

“Exactly,” she said, business-like, “and I think of that as a missed opportunity. When we lose track of field work we become…disconnected," she tapped her nails on the bar, "this isn’t about us ordering around underlings, it’s about preserving the timeline as a lifeline for all of us.”

“Cut the company shit,” he snapped, “what are you after?”

“Ah,” she sighed, placing a hand on his knee and looking at him with an expression of pity, “always so suspicious, Five. Can you blame a gal for wanting to get back in the field? Feel the thrill of a well-executed job?"

On the word 'thrill', she circled his kneecap with a single finger. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of moving his leg. She leaned towards him, lowering her voice suggestively.

"Perhaps I just wanted to see London town with my favorite assassin.

“You know I work alone," he muttered, ignoring the latter part of her speech.

“You work for me.”

She crossed her legs on the barstool, drawing an admiring glance from the pub’s landlord, nominally engaged in polishing the bar but really watching The Handler with lascivious interest. Five lowered his voice.

“You know full well you’ve got me over a damn barrel. So tell me your game- what harm can it do? Has it occurred to you that I might be able to help?"

"Oh yes," she replied, removing the hand on his leg to take a sip of campari, "I know you're more than a pretty face, but you aren't that much more. You just do what you were born to do: pull the trigger and don't ask questions."

He crossed his own legs, uncomfortably, trying to hide it by taking a sip of the poor-quality porter offered at the bar.

"You know I could work it out anyway, if I wanted to. Don’t I have a right to know why? Considering …” he gave her a significant look.

“Considering what?”

“I feel, given our...history, you could tell me why we're here.”

She raised a single, pencilled brow, "Our history?"

"You know what I mean: what you make me do."

There was a beat in which their eyes met: a moment of unspoken interplay in which something could shift; anything could happen. He needed to hold it, needed to come out on top, finally. With the intensity of his own gaze, he fought against the power of hers.

But then her mouth spasmed and she burst into helpless laughter. She threw her head back and shook with loud, long, guffaws.

“Oh Five! What I make you do? Well sure, whatever you have to tell yourself.”

His hand gripped his pint glass more tightly as she continued to laugh uproariously, drawing the attention of more than the landlord. She bent forward from mirth, as if laughter was starting to be painful, she put her hand on his upper arm for support.

“Oh, I’m going to have to go to the little girls’ room before I pee myself! Wait here like a good boy and afterwards, you and I will do what we came here to do."

She swung her legs off the barstool, wiping her eyes. Just as she moved as if to leave, she bent towards him, whispering right in his ear.

“But don’t tire yourself out too much; we have a long night ahead of us after we’re done. This time I even brought some…equipment to try."

She giggled again as she clacked away in her heels, leaving Five’s stomach to roil.

“I think you’ve pulled, mate,” muttered the barman, suddenly across the bar from him.

Five squeezed the glass so hard that it shattered in his grip.

"Hey, Five?" He comes back to the present with a bump. Diego's stood in their room's doorway, Lila approaching from behind him. He had been unprepared for how seeing her would stir the pandora's box irrevocably open in his mind. With regret, he realizes it's going to take more than a bike ride to fix this.

"Sorry. I was miles away." he tries not to catch Lila's eye- he has a feeling she knows exactly how to account for his odd behavior.

“No worries, bro," says Diego, "How was it? You got a nice tan.”

“Thanks,” grins Five. “It was…really good actually.”

He lets himself look at Lila, her smile is slightly apprehensive.

“All good?”

“All good. Thanks.” They exchange a nod, one that acknowledges everything that happened between them. He had once called her ‘entirely average’. For a long time, he’s known she’s anything but. Now, she's firmly on his list of favorite people. Shaking off this sentimentality, he cranes around their bodies into the room, returning Santi's cheery wave.

“Where’s Aoife?” he asks.

At the sound of a knock, you think Five forgot his key. When you open the door, it’s your mother, holding a screaming Aoife. She thrusts the baby into your arms and pushes past you into the room. Seeing her unexpectedly has an unexpected effect on you. You place Aoife onto the floor and try to stop the rage building. Your Mom strides into the room and then turns on her heels, her face fixed in the lines of her best tragedy-mask.

"Well I just don't know what to think?"

You don't humor her; the flouncing demeanour is infuriatingly familiar. You could be thirteen again and she fretting over what the ladies in church would think about your loss of interest in Girl Scout meetings.

“Why are you here Mom?”

“That British woman. She is so rude."

She flops, uninvited on to one of the armchairs, clapping a hand to her heart.

"There she was, holding my grandbaby, and that man who officiated was talking to them. All I did was tell them it was more appropriate that her grandmother looked after her and she used the foulest language! "

"That's because I left her with Lila and Diego, Mom. People she actually-"

But she plows on:

"What were you doing leaving her with people like that? I don’t know what you married into but I have never been more humiliated in my whole life.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

She gasps. The silky disdain your voice silences her for once. She looks as if you’ve slapped her face. Her lower lip pooches out and begins to tremble as she prepares for histrionics.

“You ask what I married into?" you continue, voice still deceptively calm, "It's what Five married into that worries me.”

“W-what…how d-?”

“I KNOW what you did to Five and Diego!”

Aoife’s protests become full cries, scared by your raised voice. Your mother’s wails join hers.

“Y-y-you’ve always hated m-me.” her sobs, designed to manipulate, just cause adrenaline to thud in your ears.

“You know what? I do! I really fucking hate you."

“I KNEW it. Nothing I ever do it g-g-good enough for you.”

You take a step towards her, “And what do you do when it comes to me, Mom? Apart from sexually harass- no- assault my husband?”

“What?”

Her shrill, fake-ass cries cease immediately replaced by anger flashing in her eyes.

“Well what would you call it, Mom? Backing a guy into a counter, touching him. Putting your hand under his clothes?”

She gives a disdainful 'pah' of shocked laughter.

"Am I supposed to like that? Am I supposed to be grateful?"

“You're being RIDICULOUS," she spits, "You always were dramatic." she stands, shoving her chair backwards as she does: it upturns, hitting Aoife on the floor behind it with a glancing blow.

You barge past her, all but vaulting the chair to take Aoife into your arms. She's shrieking, bright red in the face. You hold her head where a bump is already forming. Your mother, unfazed, continues her diatribe.

"You, your father: both of you. I don't know what I did wrong. All I ever did was love you!-"

You're not listening. You kiss Aoife's head, casting your mind around desperately for something to use as a cold compress. She's fine, quieting even now as the shock of the blow subsides.

"-And whatever Five's told you. It's just nonsense! He's exaggerating-"

You feel as if you’re floating. Red mist descends. Delicately, you place Aoife down on the floor beside the overturned chair. The thumping in your ears and the buzzing in your limbs take over. Your conscious mind all but switches off. You feel your teeth bare.

"-It's not my fault if he's dirty minded!"

You look around the room, hands going into your jean pockets. No fire axe here. What a shame.

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demetriandelibinaryboyfriends · 3 years

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Hello! So, something that always intrigued me is the concept of “reverse aus,” and I’ve been thinking about that in the context of Cobra Kai for a while now. How do you think it would go down if Demetri was the one to get roped into Cobra Kai? Obviously, I don’t think he would be as into as Eli canonically was (probably due to it becoming a special interest for him), but I’d be curious to hear your take on it. Would Eli end up going to Miyagi-Do like canon Demetri did, or would Demetri and Eli sort of become the new Evil Karate Husbands™️? And possibly, how do you think Demetri and Johnny’s dynamic would go? (I’m just going to awkwardly add that this is cc-tinslebee, coming to you live from my main blog because I don’t think Tumblr let’s sideblogs send asks-)

So this is actually the SECOND ask I’ve gotten about this scenario--Cherry sent in another one!--so I figured I’d give it a stab. Took me a while to work out how I think it would go and how everything would play out different if Demetri and Eli’s roles were reversed, but I’m pretty happy with how it turned out. I tried to make it more interesting than just “Demetri does all the stuff Eli does and Eli does all the stuff Demetri does.”

Also I lowkey LOVE the idea of Evil Karate Husbands and even though that isn’t the direction this particular AU goes in, I might do a divergent spin-off AU to explore that too??? Because man...the thought of Miguel desperately trying to save his two best friends who have fallen to the dark side...*cries*

Fair warning that this AU is gonna get dark as shit--I fully belive things would’ve gotten equally fucked up between them in a role reverse AU, just, ah...in slightly different ways. A lot of this will not be Happy Times later on, much like their canon relationship XD

OKAY TIME FOR PAIN, LET’S GOOOO

Longboi post so be warned!!!

Season 1

After getting his ass handed to him--for trying to stick up for Eli, no less--Demetri was pissed. Why the hell was he paying some guy to beat him up for daining to have a problem with him bullying his best friend? Going home in a rage, he nearly texted Miguel to tell him he was quitting--but something stopped him just before he hit Send.

He remembered the look on Eli’s face just after Kyler shoved him away. He remembered seeing Eli stiffen when Kyler grabbed him by the chin, practically feeling the terror emanate from his friend’s body. He remembered how completely and infuriatingly helpless he felt.

It certainly wasn’t the first time something like that had happened. But maybe if Miguel was onto something--maybe if karate really could protect him and Eli from the bullies--it could be the last.

Mr. Lawrence (or Sensei Lawrence, as he obnoxiously insisted on being called) hardly let up on bullying Eli. Even at Eli’s request not to call him “Lip” and the pleading of his star student Miguel Diaz himself, the man only seemed to crack down harder--in some sort of twisted effort to “toughen Eli up,” Demetri guessed. Demetri defended Eli every single time, not mincing any words mouthing off at Sensei Lawrence. It got Demetri punched in the face, flipped on the mat, saddled with much harder drills than the rest of the class, but he didn’t give a shit. He wasn’t about to let anyone treat Eli like that, no matter what pain he had to endure for it.

Johnny, meanwhile, is immensely annoyed by this obnoxious, sarcastic kid who just can’t stop running his mouth--but working him twice as hard as the rest of the class is proving to be fruitless in shutting him up. But, Johnny’s finding, Demetri constantly antagonizing him doesn’t have to be a hindrance. Anger like that can be weaponized--the more he provokes Demetri, the more he insults and belittles that Eli kid he’s so attached to, the harder Demetri punches. The quicker he moves when he fights. The stronger he kicks. Johnny sometimes comes home after training covered in nasty bruises, almost entirely from sparring Demetri--they’re enough to make Carmen and Rosa Diaz worry he’s getting jumped on the way home.

One day Johnny takes his ribbing of Eli just a little too far, hoping to get an especially vicious reaction out of Demetri. Eli, pushed to the end of his rope, runs out of the dojo, barely holding back tears. Demetri starts to go after him, but Miguel puts a hand on his arm and stops him, saying they can both check up on him later.

When Demetri finds Eli after practice, Eli’s sobbing. “I can’t do this anymore, Deme. No matter what you say to him, he just keeps picking on me. It never stops.” Demetri winces, because Eli isn’t wrong--Sensei Lawrence really hasn’t stopped bullying Eli at all, and while Demetri was busy letting himself get riled up by it, he didn’t actually think to see how it was affecting Eli. “Well, I know it sucks now, and Mr. Lawrence is a huge asshole, but we’re learning to be tough,” Demetri reasons. “We’re learning to be intimidating. A few more months here, and the bullies will never touch us again! Just like Miguel!” And Eli just scowls, uncharacteristically angry for his timid self, and says “Well, it’s not worth it if I have to feel like shit the whole time! If every time I step in here I get everything about me picked apart, over and over again! I’m done with this, Demetri.”

And just like that, Eli is out of the dojo. Demetri can’t help but be disappointed--he’d looked forward to them training together, and seeing Eli become a badass, fearless fighter who could hand Kyler’s ass to him after all those fucked up things he said to Eli. And to make matters worse, Sensei Lawrence doesn’t stop using Eli as fuel to rip out Demetri’s rage long after Eli’s gone. “Oooh, Loudmouth, feeling sad today? Missing Lip the Quitter?” “You keep throwing punches like that, and you could get beat up by that loser with the fucked lip you were so enamored with. Although knowing you, you’d let him win anyways.” And Demetri can’t help but hate the man, but damn, if it doesn’t feel good to land an especially good hit on him, or jab him in the thigh with a powerful kick.

But things aren’t bad--Demetri still has Miguel, and their new friend Aisha. Eli still hangs out with them outside of practice, and indulges Demetri in his ever-increasing ramblings about martial arts, no matter how nervous and uncomfortable karate tends to make Eli. If Demetri likes it that much, maybe he should make an effort to show interest in it. The four of them crash Yasmine’s birthday party, and Demetri even finds himself smooth-talking them into getting alcohol with his newfound confidence. After all, if he can land punches faster than a snake can strike, how difficult can it be to weasel his way into getting a little beer?

Meanwhile Moon, feeling understandably unfulfilled in her popular clique, takes an interest in the Cool New Karate Gang in town, and after apologizing to Aisha at the beach rager, the two strike up a friendship. She comes to hang out with their group more and more, and Eli finds her surprisingly easy to talk to. Moon constantly makes an effort to include him when the others get to wrapped up talking about karate, and he appreciates her kindness and sincerity. It’s odd, really, how easy it is to have a conversation with her, considering how nervous he tends to get around her. But Eli doesn’t think too much about it.

When it comes time for the tournament, Moon and Eli go together to support their friends. Eli finds his gaze flickering back and forth between Moon and Demetri, lingering on each of them longer than he would care to admit--and he can’t quite explain why. Something about Moon’s wide, excited smile, the smell of cherry shampoo in her hair...but also Demetri’s smug, triumphant smirk when he pulls off an especially impressive move, the way his wiry arm muscles ripple when he fights. They’re both just so...captivating.

Demetri, for his part, is ruthless. Much more so than Eli has ever seen him be. He’s always been sarcastic and cynical, but resigned to his fate--at the tournament, Demetri lashes out in vicious ways the old Demetri would never have had the courage to pull off. He talks shit to the other contestants far beyond what’s considered “sportsmanlike”--and Eli can tell he’s not holding back, with the theatrical body language channeling every awful thing he’s saying.

Demetri fights like lightning--he weaves and maneuvers and strikes at breakneck speed, a limber, flashing form hitting all across his opponent’s bodies before they have any idea what’s happening. He dodges hits and jumps aside like he has some cosmic sense of when and where they’re coming. And it scares Eli, seeing a viciousness and relentlessness in Demetri that he’s never encountered before--but somehow, he finds, he just can’t look away.

Season 2

After the tournament, Demetri’s life has never been better. At the summer’s start, he’s still riding the high of the Cobra Kai tournament win. He didn’t take home the trophy, but suffice to say he got much farther than anyone believed a scrawny, lanky nerd ever would, and he is incredibly smug about it. He realizes, at the end of the day, he’s gotten what he always wanted after all--the bullies don’t come near him and Eli at all, and he can rest easy, knowing Eli is finally safe. However, he’s so busy embracing his new skills that at times, he almost forgets that was ever even an issue. His newfound fighting prowess has caught the attention of Yasmine, of all people--maybe someone who can throw kicks that good isn’t as much of a loser as she originally thought.

She finds out after her family’s plans to go to France for the summer fall through, and she finally patches things up with Moon after their fallout at the beach party. Moon can’t stop gushing about how amazing Demetri was at the tournament--both she and her new friend Eli (who Yasmine definitely thinks seems like a weirdo, but hey--maybe if Moon thinks he’s worth her time, he can’t be that much of a loser) were so impressed with him. Interest piqued, Yasmine joins their little but ever-growing group. She finds herself quickly drawn in by Demetri’s ever-growing confidence, intelligence, and surprisingly enjoyable (if somewhat annoying) sense of humor, and before long, the two are dating.

Yasmine and Aisha are...cool. Kind of. Yasmine doesn’t quite apologize, and the two aren’t friends by any stretch of imagination, but they tolerate each other, and Yasmine refrains from making awful comments and picking on Aisha in front of their friends. Aisha, for her part, does her best not to lash out or be mean to Yasmine either, keeping the peace mainly for Demetri’s and Moon’s sakes.

Meanwhile, it would take an idiot not to notice the rather starstruck looks Eli’s been shooting in Moon’s direction. Moon, for her part, is either entirely oblivious or simply doesn’t even think to consider a shy, timid, nerdy kid as a romantic option, even if she does consider him a friend.

Oddly, Demetri finds himself extremely bothered by Eli’s doe-eyed crush on Moon. He really can’t place why--he has a girlfriend already, so it really shouldn’t bug him so much that Eli is finally growing noticably interested in girls too, now that they tend to be in closer proximity. And it’s not even like Moon seems to be at all interested in reciprocating. Maybe, he figures, it’s the fact that Moon never would have even looked their way if it weren’t for the fact that he and Miguel and Aisha were the “Cool Karate Gang.” The same karate gang, of course, that Eli quit. That Eli didn’t have it in him to fully be a part of. And yet here he is, reaping the benefits still.

Interestingly, Yasmine also seems bothered by Eli’s affections for her friend. Demetri feels her stiffen beside him and sees her shooting disapproving looks whenever she catches Eli staring at Moon. Demetri isn’t sure why she seems to take issue with this too--perhaps she thinks Moon is too good for Eli, and her friend deserves better than a shy, awkward nerd.

Something about this mindset very much rubs Demetri the wrong way, but he pushes the feeling aside. Maybe he should count his blessings instead of being so inwardly critical of his girlfriend. After all, not everyone gets to date the hottest girl in school.

The day of Valley Fest arrives, and Yasmine goes to support her boyfriend. Moon and Eli tag along, eager to support their friends as well. Caught up in the thrill of the blaring music, the bright, flashing lights, the audience cheering, Demetri feels a wave of pride as he looks at his little group of friends that came for him, yelling and whooping and jumping up and down. For some reason, he finds his gaze drawn specifically to Eli, wearing a grin bigger than Demetri’s seen in months and eyes absolutely glowing.

Suddenly Demetri feels an overpowering urge to wrap Eli up in this world he’s fallen in love with, immerse him entirely in the karate that’s made Demetri feel so much more happy and free in the past several months. Grinning, he strides forward and reaches down, using the absurd upper body strength he’s built up since he’s started karate to yank Eli up onto the stage. He hands his best friend a wooden board and steps back, racing forward and snapping it in half with a jumping roundhouse kick. For a few seconds, Eli can do nothing but stare at the broken board, something shifting inside of him.

After that, Eli decides maybe it’s time to give karate another go. Something about the way Demetri positively shone onstage--how genuinely happy all of it seemed to make him--makes him thing it can’t be so bad, even if he does get taunted for his lip again.

He stops by the dojo the following week, gathering up every ounce of courage he has to ask that mean blonde man how he goes about joining the dojo again. He’s hoping against hope that maybe, after all these months of teaching students and a tournament win under his belt, the edge of his pathetic cruelty will at least have been taken off.

No such luck. Upon seeing Eli walk into the dojo, Johnny greets him with “Hey, Lip is back! Real world not treat you as nicely as you thought?” The two are, regrettably, completely alone in the dojo. Eli sucks in his breath--Demetri isn’t around, so if anyone is going to defend him, it’ll have to be him himself.

“Could you please not call me that?” His voice shakes as he says it, but nonetheless, he finishes the statement. It occurs to him that not once in his (admittedly brief) stay in Cobra Kai did he simply...request that Sensei Lawrence not call him Lip. Demetri’s approach was always to get angry about it, go off on the sensei about how wrong it was to mock someone’s appearance, but Eli himself had never been the one to make a case for Sensei Lawrence to treat him better.

It hardly helped. Sensei Lawrence just claimed that if he didn’t want him to call him Lip, he shouldn’t have a freaky lip, and then went on to claim whoever did his cleft lip surgery must have done an awful job. Eli attempted to move away from the topic, but Sensei Lawrence didn’t let up. “It’s hard to when it’s right in front of me. Hard to believe Demetri was so willing to defend you like some knight in shining armor or some shit. You’re pathetic.” Having heard enough, Eli storms out, anger overtaking him. How could he have been so stupid, to think this was going to go any better? Why did he think that just because this man had been willing to help Miguel and Demetri (who were normal) become badass meant he would extend the same treatment to the freak with the lip scar?

Eli calls Demetri in tears. “I don’t know how you can train with someone like him,” Eli spits out. “He’s a shit person, Demetri. I--I don’t know what you and Miguel are thinking. It’s like he gets some kind of...I don’t know, sadistic pleasure out of bullying people. He’s not any better than the people he claims he’s trying to help you fight.”

Demetri, to his horror, reacts only with scorn, scoffing and rolling his eyes. “God, all this drama because he was mean about your lip again? Jesus christ, grow a backbone, Eli. I hate to say it, but I think Mr. Lawrence was right--if you can’t even handle someone making some insensitive comments about your scar, how are you going to handle an elbow to the teeth? Or any training more intensive than a slap on the wrist, anyway?”

Eli can do nothing but just stare at him through the screen. Demetri, the one person who he has always been able to count on to not comment on his scar, the one person who has always comforted him or talked him through it when he cried, is brushing him completely off--being an asshole about the one thing Eli was certain he never would be. Why is Demetri, of all people, not taking his side on this?

All Eli knows for sure is that he doesn’t like this new version of Demetri one bit. What happened to the best friend who was always willing to fight for him, no matter what it took? Now, he seems more concerned with looking cool and tough and upkeeping some kind of ridiculous reputation than Eli’s own well-being.

Over the next few days, a rage he didn’t know he even had in him bubbles up inside Eli. He decides if Demetri’s going to play dirty, so is he. And maybe, if Eli plays his cards right, the old Demetri will come back.

Despite his long-standing frustration with the way adults treat him--delicately, condescendingly, like a Thing of Pity--Eli figures he can get some use out of it for once. If this is the only way they’re going to see him regardless, he might as well use it to his advantage. And so he goes crying to his mom, who he knows for a fact other adults talk about being a “valued member of the community” and probably has some influence and some strings she can pull. He bawls to her about how his best friend has turned into an unrecognizable jerk, all because he’s training with a middle-aged man with the mindset of a high school bully who has no issue verbally abusing his students. Sure enough, discussions are had with the Neighborhood Committee, phone calls are placed, and Eli overhears his mother vowing to shut down that degenerate karate place if it’s the last thing she ever does.

Meanwhile, back at the dojo, Kreese makes an announcement. The elderly, intimidating man has recently teamed up with Johnny to teach--and he gives Demetri the creeps, if he’s honest, but he seems to know his stuff when it comes to karate, so Demetri goes along with this new addition to the sensei roster. However, when Johnny goes off to visit his high school friends and leaves the kids alone with the new Sensei, Demetri can’t help but feel uneasy.

“Now, the dojo’s been getting some concerned phone calls,” Kreese says, arms crossed and expression difficult to read. He doesn’t seem to be angry--if anything, he looks faintly amused. “Parents of the local teenagers are worried. They think Cobra Kai is full of bullies. Think our methods are...abusive, even. They want to shut us down.” Worried murmurs start to echo around the room, but Kreese silences them as he goes on. “Oh, don’t worry. It won’t be a problem. I have my ways of talking people down. We know better, anyhow. They’re just...intimidated by us, because we’ve honed skills here they couldn’t even dream of having. But nonetheless...” Kreese smirks in a way that makes Demetri feels ever-so-slightly unnerved. “If you run into one of your little peers whining to your parents about getting rid of us, well...show them Cobra Kai can’t be messed with so easily.”

And suddenly Demetri’s seething, because he knows exactly who made sure those phone calls got made.

Eli, for all his timidness, is notoriously smart. Demetri knows this intimately. He’d hardly put it past Eli to be this cunning, to manipulate the pitying adults around him to get what he wants.

When the Cobra Kai kids take a trip to the mall later that day, Demetri knows exactly where Eli will be. Every Wednesday, a new issue of Dungeon Lord comes out--they used to go get it together, but since getting into karate, Demetri hasn’t been keeping up. Demetri would figure someone like Eli wouldn’t have the balls to go out in public alone, if not for the fact that he knew how invested Eli was in the current plot.

And so Demetri heads to the comic book store, a group of reluctant Cobra Kai “pledges” in tow. Maybe it’s a bit sadistic, but he likes having someone to be able to boss around--it feels nice to be at the top of the food chain for once. Lord knows it’s the first time that’s happened. And if he isn’t going to milk that tournament win for all it’s worth, then what even is the point?

When Demetri arrives, Eli turns to look at him in confusion. “What are you doing here?” he says, lip curling slightly. “I figured you were too tough for this kind of stuff now.”

Demetri just scoffs and crosses his arms. “Well, Mr. Kreese said the dojo’s been getting some calls from weepy parents concerned we’re bullying their poor kids. Saying our Senseis must be some evil, abusive monsters twisting and corrupting the neighborhood teenagers. So I think you know exactly why I’m here.”

Eli just looks at him with a doe-eyed innocence that makes his blood boil. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Demetri advances on him, eyes flashing. “Don’t bullshit me, Eli. I know you’ve been meddling.”

To his surprise, Eli looks up to meet his gaze evenly, pretense of naiveté completely gone. “And what if I have? I don’t like the influence they’re having on you.”

Well, Demetri doesn’t know what that’s supposed to mean, but he doesn’t like it. “What is it about Cobra Kai that’s got you in such a tiffy, huh? You’re jealous I found a way to fight back and actually protect us? You don’t like that I’m not a pathetic loser you can look down your nose at anymore?”

Eli just looks at him in bewilderment. “Jesus, no, that’s not it at all, dude. Just...do you even hear yourself? You’ve turned into such an asshole since you started all that karate shit. It’s like I don’t even know you anymore. You walk around thinking you’re hot shit and everyone has to bow down to you all because your dojo won some stupid tournament. Well, news flash, Demetri--nobody cares.”

The callous way Eli, of all people, says it can’t help but throw him off. Is that really what his best friend thinks about him now--that he’s just some arrogant prick strutting around flaunting his success?

And then Demetri remembers how he got here--what it was that pushed him to be such a hard-assed fighter in the first place--and he feels a wave of venom coarse through him so powerful that he nearly chokes on it. Before he knows it he’s grabbing Eli by the shoulders and shoving him up against the wall.

“You fucking ungrateful brat,” he spits out, his words poison. “I did it all for you, you know. Everything I did was so that I could finally protect you. And this is how you thank me? After I’ve been getting my ass kicked over and over again so you wouldn’t have to worry about bullies anymore?”

Eli is surprisingly unfazed. “And where was I when you were learning to be such a good protector, Demetri? Getting shit on as a tool to motivate you? Nobody bothering to check how I felt about that? A real good bodyguard you turned out to be.”

“And yet Kyler and his little posse haven’t bothered you once. Who do you think that’s thanks to?”

“Miguel too. You don’t get all the credit. And anyhow, not like it matters when your Senseis would just as soon take the same cheap shots.”

Demetri just curls his lip. “Don’t get mad at me because you were too weak to survive Cobra Kai. Because...what, a middle-aged karate teacher hurt your feelings? I’d like to see how you go about taking a real fist to the jaw.”

Demetri raises a fist as if to demonstrate. Eli flinches, anger and defiance suddenly completely gone as his eyes widen in horror.

“You’d actually hurt me?” he asks softly.

Demetri slowly lowers his fist, realizing the answer as soon as he sees the terrified look in his friend’s eyes.

“Consider this your warning, Eli,” he spits out, with as much venom as he can manage. “Don’t mess around with Cobra Kai, or things are going to get ugly.” He smirks--a little sadistically, he has to admit. “You saw the tournament. Well...you’d better believe that’s the least of what I can do.”

When a downtrodden Eli shows up at Daniel LaRusso’s front door, timidly requesting to learn karate, far be it from Daniel to turn away a new student. Eli’s sob story about how he’s being bullied and threatened by his best friend only makes the new sensei more determined to take him under his wing--Daniel is no stranger to bullying, after all.

The next time Cobra Kai goes on an outing to the mall, Demetri catches Eli in the food court, eating with Samantha LaRusso and that kid whose ass he kicked at the tournament--Robby Keene, was his name? Mr. Lawrence’s kid. This seems...odd. How would Eli have met them?

An unexpected wave of jealousy rips through him. How did shy little Eli manage to make other friends? Let alone with an ex popular girl, of all people. Nonetheless, he figures this might be a good time to make sure his ex-friend isn’t trying to start any more shit with Cobra Kai.

He catches Eli in the deli line, sliding up behind him and purring, “Oh, I hope you haven’t been poking your nose where it doesn’t belong, have you, Eli?”

Eli turns and glares at him with a venom Demetri didn’t know the other boy had in him. “Why, Demetri? Scared your precious Cobra Kai is going to lose all its coolness cred if it gets out how shitty you all are?”

Demetri seethes with anger again, and before he knows it, he’s shoving Eli out of the line and ramming him up against one of the pillars on the edge of the food court. The crowd of eaters around them “Oooooh”s, but Demetri ignores them. He raises a fist again, fully prepared to follow through this time. “I’d watch your mouth, if I were you.”

Eli just curls his lip, more defiant than Demetri’s ever seen him. “You don’t scare me, Demetri. I know who you really are.”

The Cobra Kai pledges start to loom behind them, ready to provide Demetri with backup if needed. Eli notices and scoffs. “Wow, siccing your goons on me too? Way to set up a fair fight, Demetri. You’re so badass.”

Struck by a sudden desire to prove him wrong, Demetri socks Eli in the jaw before he can think better of it. He pauses afterwards, momentarily shaken by what he’s done.

To his dismay, Eli’s horrified shock is short lived before he laughs darkly. “Well, you’re not the only one who knows karate now. I joined Miyagi-Do.”

Demetri just scoffs. Ah yes, a little karate training and Eli, of all people, is going to kick some major ass. “All right then. Let’s see what you got.” He takes a step back, allowing Eli to try and get a hit in.

When the fight breaks out in full force, it’s vicious. Eli throws the first hit, but it’s weak--he’s out of practice since abandoning Cobra Kai. Demetri has him on the ground in seconds, throwing punches and kicks with a speed and rage he had no idea he had. Eli barely has time to get up before he’s getting his ass handed to him.

What Demetri doesn’t count on is Eli’s new dojomates coming to his rescue, getting the smaller boy behind them and executing a near-perfect synchronized fighting routine. Even with his lackeys helping him, Demetri is completely annihilated--nearly unconscious on the food court floor within minutes. The last thing he sees before he passes out is Eli staring down at him, blue eyes wide with horror.

When word of the incident at the mall gets back to Moon, shit hits the fan--to put it lightly. Yasmine is with Moon when she confronts Demetri, but she doesn’t say anything--just stands glaring with her arms crossed while Moon goes off at him. “How could you treat Eli like that? He’s your friend!”

“Not anymore.” Demetri curls his lip. “He joined Miyagi-Do. He’s made it pretty clear where his loyalties lie now, and it’s not with me.”

“Who cares about Miyagi-Do?” She retorts. “He’s still your friend! Our friend! And I don’t like the way you’re bullying him.”

Demetri scoffs. “Don’t you get it? He’s just a pathetic nerd who can’t handle the fact that I’m cooler than him now. All he wants to do is drag me down to his level again, I guarantee it.”

Moon’s gaze is more poisonous than he’s ever seen it. She turns to Yasmine. “Tell him, Yas,” she says, her tone dangerously quiet.

Yasmine sighs. She says--with notable hesitation, Demetri notices--“If you don’t stop bullying Eli, we’re through.”

Thrown off, Demetri laughs harshly. “What do you care? You don’t even like Eli! I see those...disgusted looks you shoot in his direction, when you think we won’t notice.”

Yasmine bites her lip. “That doesn’t matter. Moon is my best friend. If she’s not okay with this whole...thing, then neither am I.”

“You’re not fucking serious. You’re dumping me because your bleeding-hearted friend told you I wasn’t being nice enough to a guy you can’t stand?”

Yasmine pauses, but ultimately stands her ground. “I’m sorry, but if it’s between you and Moon, it’s going to be Moon. So her word goes. So either stop with this whole stupid feud with Eli, or we’re finished.”

“I...” Demetri can only stare at her, shocked. He never could have imagined getting this ultimatum...and yet here he is.

He must have hesitated a second too long, because Moon grabs Yasmine’s arm and starts to pull her away. “I think that’s all the answer we need,” Moon hisses.

“Wait!” he called helplessly after them. Yasmine turns around once as she walks away, but only to spit “It’s over!” over her shoulder. As if for good measure.

Kreese finds Demetri circling a punching bag in the back of the dojo, spinning around it and throwing kicks and punches faster than cobra strikes. Seizing his opportunity, he advances. “What’s wrong, son?”

Demetri turns, tensing. He’s still wary of the man, but to hell with it--it’s not like he has anyone else to talk to. “Fight broke out with Miyagi-Do, and we lost. Pathetic, I know. Please don’t rub it in.”

“Cheer up.” Kreese smirks. “The fight isn’t over until you say it is.”

Demetri just sighs. “No use going in for a rematch. They’re strong. I couldn’t take them again on my own.”

Kreese’s smirk widens. “You’re a smart kid. There are other ways to fight back, you know. You don’t always have to beat them into the ground.”

As he leaves, Demetri lets that sink in.

Well, Demetri is nothing if not tech-savvy. May as well make some use of that Yelp Elite status. He spends hours setting up dozens of sock puppet accounts, programming them to post terrible review after terrible review blasting everything he can think of about Miyagi-Do. The encouragement of violence in youth (Eli had technically punched first, hadn’t he?). The weak, subpar fighting style that broke down as soon as it was challenged by serious fighters. The pretentious, culture-appropriating sensei. Daniel LaRacist indeed.

During the Coyote Creek excursion, Demetri finds himself pitted against Miguel, fighting in the world’s most intense game of what essentially boils down to Capture the Flag. Demetri, about to get the better of Miguel, finds that he can’t help but gloat about his little online attack. Can’t be long before a one-star dojo goes out of business.

When Miguel seems to take issue with it, saying the whole thing is mean-spirited and over the top, Demetri can’t help but scoff. Miyagi-Do has been plenty clear in declaring war--their little battalion at the mall proved that. Demetri wishes Miguel wasn’t still too caught up in pining over Sam LaRusso to realize that.

Miguel, meanwhile, decides this dojo war of sorts is getting out of hand. It turns out Demetri isn’t the only tech-savvy student in Cobra Kai--Miguel designed their website, after all. With a little bit of basic internet coding and some rudimentary hacking, he manages to access the sock puppet accounts Demetri made and take the bad reviews down. He even goes so far as to go over to the Miyagi-Do dojo and personally apologize for how Cobra Kai has been acting, telling Robby Keene that he found out who blasted the bad reviews and took them all down. “We’re not all assholes.”

Come Moon’s end-of-summer party, Demetri is surprised to get an invitation. He hasn’t seen her or Yasmine since they both chewed him out, and Yasmine ended things. But perhaps this is a show of good faith. Maybe Moon wants to be friends again--and maybe that means Yasmine’s come to her senses too, and might be willing to talk things out.

Moon welcomes him when he arrives, previous animosity gone for the moment. “Hey, thank you for inviting me. I’m...sorry,” he starts. “Of how we left things off. I was an ass to you and Yas.” “It’s alright,” Moon replies cheerily. “I invited you because...well, I’m hoping that before school starts, we can stop all the fighting and be friends again.”

His heart sinks as he sees Sam LaRusso lead a stream of kids through the door, Eli trailing at the end, and he realizes exactly what she means. The Miyagi-Dos are here.

He sits forlornly on a couch with Mitch and Aisha, thinking about how much worse this night just got. He brightens, however, when he sees a shock of blonde hair at the door not long after. So Yasmine came after all.

Moon grins in delight, calling over to her. Taking a breath, Demetri stands up and approaches the two girls, determined to smooth things over with them both.

He’s not surprised to see Yasmine make a beeline for Moon, not noticing him for the moment. What he isn’t expecting is for Moon to sweep Yasmine into her arms, kissing her full on the mouth.

Demetri stops in his tracks. The girls turn to him a few seconds later, seeming to notice him for the first time. They look at him expectantly, as though waiting for him to finish walking over to them. Or say something, and not just stand there gawking stupidly.

“Uh...are you two...um...like...uh...” All he can do is shuffle closer and gesture abstractly, not able to find words. Yasmine blushes and looks away, while Moon tucks a hair behind her ear, her smile strained.

“Yeah. It’s new,” she admits, laughing nervously. “We’re, um...”

“Girlfriends?” Yasmine offers, looking up and smiling at Moon with uncharacteristic shyness. Demetri can’t help but bristle--shyness she never showed him.

Well, far be it from him to be judgmental. Even if Yasmine broke his damn heart just now, Moon is still his friend. He gives them a strained smile. “That’s...that’s great! Happy for you two. No shame in uh...trying out something like that.”

Demetri excuses himself and sulks back to the now-empty couch, mind racing as he sits down. Is that why Moon was trying to encourage Yasmine to break up with him? Was it even about Eli at all? Did Moon just want Yasmine for herself? It seemed unlike Moon, but who could say?

And Yasmine...had she always wanted Moon, too? Is that why she seethed every time she saw Eli shooting lovestruck glances at her friend?

...had she even ever liked Demetri at all, or was he just a cover-up for the fact that she was...lesbian? How was someone as feminine and fashionable as Yasmine a lesbian, anyways? All the lesbians Demetri saw on tv cut their hair boyishly short and had about 5 nose rings and walked around in leather jackets and combat boots.

His thoughts are interrupted by the last sweatered boy he wants to see taking a seat at the other side of the couch, glancing nervously at him with darting eyes. What did Eli want? And why was he so nervous? He’d been unduly bold as of late.

“You seen the new Doctor Who trailer?” Eli mutters.

Something about the nonchalant way he says it--like this is the olden days, when Demetri always felt like shit about himself and had no one who tolerated him but Eli--makes Demetri’s blood boil. He scoffs. “I have better things to do than watch nerd crap like that.”

A short silence. “Capaldi regenerated,” Eli offers finally. “I know you weren’t big on 12.”

No more Capaldi? Demetri turns to look at Eli, interest suddenly piqued.

“What’s the new doctor like?” he asks before he can stop himself.

Eli grins. “She’s a badass.”

“She?” Demetri finds himself grinning back. “How progressive of them. Welcome to the 21st century, Doctor Who.”

A sudden giggling catches his attention, and Demetri looks to where Yasmine and Moon are sharing a chair across the room, tangled up in each other’s arms and trading soft kisses like they don’t have a care in the world. He tenses.

Eli seems to sense his discomfort, and sighs. “Hey, I’m sorry, man. If it helps at all, I liked Moon a lot, too.”

Demetri just scoffs. “Yeah, but I guess it doesn’t matter now. They just have to be gay, right?”

Eli gives him a strange look. Demetri shuffles uncomfortably, realizing what he’s probably thinking about. The...incident, 4 years ago. Demetri glares at him, hoping to banish the thought before it arrives. None of that meant anything--they were just dumb kids. Dumb kids doing dumb shit that didn’t matter.

“I don’t know, I mean...if they’re happy together, shouldn’t we just be happy for them?”

Eli reaches out and squeezes his shoulder, and Demetri hesitates. Their special touch. Eli still remembers, even after everything that’s happened.

For a moment he’s overcome with longing, wishing things with Eli could just go back to how they used to be. Back when he knew no matter what hell he went through at school, Eli would always be there to pick him back up again. But then it sinks in what Eli’s really trying to say.

Be happy for them. What a bunch of Miyagi-Do bullshit. Just accept his sad little lot in life, just like he used to do. Go back to nerdy little Eli at the bottom of the food chain, doomed to spend the rest of his youth admiring pretty girls from a vast distance.

He never wants that to be him again.

“Oh, fuck you, Eli,” he spits, grabbing Eli’s hand and yanking it off of his shoulder. Eli freezes, looking like he’s just been slapped.

“What, so I’m supposed to do like you, moping and pining and hoping a pretty girl will look my way if I wish hard enough and just sucking it up when she doesn’t? Well, I’ve had plenty enough of that--I’ve been on the top. And I’m going to be on the top again. But you? You’ll always be pathetic--you and your entire sorry excuse for a dojo.”

He gets up and walks away, bristling with an anger he can’t even fully place anymore.

As Eli watches Demetri go, he realizes he’s finally had enough. Demetri doesn’t want to patch things up? He just wants to keep being an arrogant shithead? Fine. But Eli’s not about to take his prodding and insults anymore.

Eli makes his way over to Moon--still his friend, despite the unreciprocated feelings--and Yasmine, strikes up a conversation with them. Yasmine, he notices, is being notably nicer to him--probably at Moon’s request. They get to talking about sexualities, and Eli accidentally lets a little something slip about Demetri.

When they were 12 years old, they had kissed. It was Eli who suggested they practiced kissing, to get ready for all the girls they would inevitably date. However, a bit of choice wording and it sounded like Demetri had planted one on Eli out of nowhere...and Eli, of course, hadn’t liked it one bit, because he was totally straight. “You can’t tell anyone, though,” he pleaded the girls, big sad eyes every bit as convincing as he had hoped. “Demetri doesn’t want it to get out that he’s...you know. Gay. He’s worried it’ll ruin his reputation.”

Moon nods sincerely, but Eli can tell from the almost imperceptible smirk on Yasmine’s face that she has other plans. If there’s one thing he’s learned about Demetri’s ex over the last few months, it’s that even trying to be a better person, she can’t resist a good bit of juicy gossip.

And from what Eli gathers...two girls dating? No problem, as long as they’re hot and popular. At least creepy guys can fetishize it. But guys liking other guys? Now that...Eli has a feeling that won’t go over well.

As soon as Eli excuses himself, Yasmine gets to work. A few whispers at the snack table when Moon isn’t looking, and news of Demetri’s supposed orientation spread like wildfire.

Demetri, meanwhile, is determined to prove Eli wrong. So what if Yas doesn’t want him anymore (or never did, the mean voice in his head keeps prodding)? He’ll find another hot girl to have on his arm. He’s a top Cobra Kai fighter, after all--it’s not like it’ll be difficult.

He saunters over to a group of girls, leaning up against the wall in what he thinks has to be a very suave way. “Hey ladies,” he says. “Name’s Demetri. I’m sure you’ve heard about me--seasoned Cobra Kai fighter, finalist in the All-Valley tournament. But no need to be intimidated--if any of you beautiful ladies ever need a hand with anything, I’ll--”

“Take it off of the nearest dick to help us out?” one of the girls cuts him off. They all break out in snickers. “No thanks.”

Demetri freezes. Why would they think...?

Then he realizes there’s only one person who could have made them think he was into that sort of thing.

He tenses. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but--”

“We’ve heard all we need to,” another girl says, eyeing him up in disgust. “Not interested in getting it on with someone who’s probably had his cock up another guy’s ass, to be blunt. Gross.” Before Demetri can say another word, the girls are gone, turning and slinking hurriedly off into the crowd.

Every time Demetri tries his luck with another girl, he gets similar rebuffs. And every time, he seethes a little more. Fucking figured--timid little Eli couldn’t take the fact that Demetri had worked up the confidence to win over a girl and he hadn’t, so he had to ruin Demetri’s chances with every other girl so he’d feel better.

Besides, Demetri remembers that day from 4 years ago. He remembers that Eli was just as into...all the stuff they did.

Unfortunately, before Demetri has a chance to go over and confront Eli about the whole business, the cops show up. He’ll just have to wait until school, he figures.

Meanwhile, word gets back to Sam that Miguel showed up at her door, apologizing and promising he took all the bad reviews down--apparently Robby didn’t relay any of this to her. When Miguel admits to Demetri about the drunken kiss, Demetri chuckles, slapping him on the back. “My man! Trying to build up a whole harem here, are we?”

Miguel sighs, looking sullen. “I cheated, dude. That’s shitty.”

And then comes the PA announcement. Tory Nichols is starting shit, and Demetri can’t pretend he’s not intrigued to see where this goes.

As soon as the fight breaks out, Demetri is overcome with adrenaline. He whips through the crowd, spinning and throwing kicks and punches like explosive flashes. All he can think of is Eli, Eli, little Eli...oh, when he finds him, there’s going to be hell to pay.

And it doesn’t take long--of course Eli is the one who tries to pull a teacher in to stop the fight. The fucking wimp.

When Eli makes a run for it, Demetri can’t help but smirk when he leads him straight to the computer lab. How very typical, for someone whose hero is Steve Jobs. He grins, something frighteningly sadistic bubbling up inside of him.

For a second it almost scares him, how badly he wants to drive his foot into Eli’s chest.

“Little Eli Moskowitz!” he taunts, before he can stop himself. “Cowering away in the computer lab, just like the little nerd he is. Can’t hide forever, outer. I know damn well what you told them about me.”

He tries door after door, continuing in a singsong voice as he goes. “Oh dear me, what would they say if they knew you enjoyed it too, Eli? Well, I guess they won’t believe me now. But I know. I know you’re no better than me.”

Ever since they were kids, Demetri has been the speedier one. They used to race across the playground at recess, pretending to be Quicksilver and the Flash, but Demetri always came out ahead. Long, gangly legs tended to do that. So when Eli turns to see Demetri in the doorway, and he makes a run for it, he doesn’t get far.

Demetri grabs Eli around the waist and throws him against the wall, whipping kicks and hits into his stomach and thighs faster than he can block. Demetri hardly notices the bruises forming, or the bleeding cuts.

It’s then that Eli does something Demetri doesn’t expect--flips the script, as it were. As Demetri reaches out to strike again, Eli surges forward and grabs him by the shoulders, flipping him around and pinning him against the wall. Maybe Miyagi-Do specializes in defense, but they still taught him how to throw a good hit or two. He throws defense to the wayside and starts raining punches down on Demetri--sloppy, uncoordinated, but something the “Strike First” Cobra Kai student is entirely unprepared to defend.

When his chest is stinging and his head throbbing, Demetri can’t take anymore. Eli was a lot more...well, powerful than he expected. At his first opportunity, he turns and books it. Maybe this isn’t a fight he can win after all.

Eli doesn’t chase. As angry as he still is at Demetri, he can’t stop thinking about the mars and bruises and cuts that appeared across Demetri’s face and skin as he punched him, mirroring his own, and he feels sick. He can’t hurt Demetri anymore, no matter what Demetri thinks of him now.

Demetri just makes it to the staircase when he sees Miguel motionless on the floor, Robby Keene looking over the railing. Sam LaRusson hovering over him. He runs to Miguel’s side, world crumbling around him.

Turns out he showed mercy, just like Mr. Lawrence always said to. And look where it got him. When John Kreese offers him a place in a new Cobra Kai, determined to make the Miyagi-Dos pay for hurting Miguel, Demetri isn’t about to say no.

In his grief, it seems like the only option.

Season 3

On the first day back at school, Mitch is quick to remind Demetri that there are other girls in the world besides Yasmine. Surely it won’t be too hard to work his charms on some of the freshmen--after all, word about that little incident with Eli when they were 12 can’t have gotten across the entire school, can it?

“Well, hello, ladies!” he purrs to a passing group, leaning against the wall in the most nonchalant way possible. “Welcome to West Valley High. I know freshman year can be intimidating, high school classes and new people and all, but if you ever need help with anything, I’m--”

“--the scrawny little gay kid who ran his pussy ass away from the world’s easiest fight?” one of the girls finishes scornfully. “Yeah, we know.”

As they walk away, he notices one shoot a flirty smile at a passing Eli, surrounded by his squad of Miyagi-Do losers. “Ooooh, you’re famous now, E!” he hears Chris say, and his blood boils all over again.

Ah. So everyone knew about Eli’s little triumph.

Mitch saunters over, and Demetri follows his lead. “Got something to say?!” he snaps.

Demetri’s eyes lock with Eli’s, and he glowers down at him. Eli’s face is tight, expression almost...sad.

Not like he’d expect anything less from that little crybaby.

“Oh, little Eli,” he chides. “I’d like to see you try and hide behind security.”

“I don’t need to,” Eli mutters, not breaking eye contact.

“Everything all right here?”

At the sound of the counselor’s voice, Eli does something unexpectedly bold. He sidles up to Demetri’s side and presses into it, throwing an arm around his shoulder. “No, Counselor Blatt, we’re all friends here!” he says, offering that shy little Eli smile that made every adult in a nearby vicinity go mad with protectiveness.

Eli’s arm is tight around his neck--like a chokehold. But, Demetri notices after a few moments, it’s shaking--the grip almost frantic. Like he’s scared of when he’ll have to let go.

Odd.

Demetri turns, and his and Eli’s eyes lock. He tries to give the shorter boy the most intense, seething glare he can under his forced smile, but Eli returns the look with equal intensity. Demetri jostles his backpack his backpack and thumps him on the chest, feeling an odd compulsion to touch his old friend right back.

Maybe he missed feeling Eli’s body underneath him. But that wasn’t a thought he could afford to spend a lot of brainpower on right now. “Yeah!” he says. Of course we’re still friends! Of course you didn’t fuck up my love life and humiliate me to the entire school because you couldn’t handle the fact that I was getting some and you weren’t!

When the counselor chides them about having somewhere to be, Eli just nods, murmuring, “Yeah, of course, Counselor Blatt. Sorry.”

As Eli pulls away, he pats Demetri’s shoulder a couple times. Small, almost imperceptible, but there.

Demetri can’t tell if it’s serious--if Eli still cares--or if it’s just a cruel mockery of their old touch. He’s not sure he wants to know.

When Demetri runs into Samantha LaRusso in the hospital and she insists she wants to help, he hardly expects a whole fucking fundraiser gleefully using Miguel as their poster child. As though the Miyagi-Dos weren’t the ones who put him in the hospital in the first place. When he catches a glimpse of the carwash while driving Mitch to practice, he decides he’s going to do something about it.

Beating up the kid is an easy fight, getting the money with Mitch and the others a sinch. Maybe at some point he would’ve felt bad for this--pummeling some short kid and then taking his charity money. But all he can think of is Miguel, his best friend, lying in a white gown and hooked up to wires. Because of this kid and his stupid “peaceful” dojo.

Peaceful, Demetri’s ass.

When Demetri walks into the cafeteria the following Monday, he’s not sure what he expects to see at Yasmine and Moon’s table, the place where he would be sitting, under different circumstances--but it definitely is not Eli Moskowitz with his hair dyed bright blue and spiked up. Miyagi-Do blue. Apparently all that coolness cred he felt he got from “scaring” Demetri off in the school brawl has gotten to his head, and he’s playing out his new “badassery” up to 11. He’s showing something to Yasmine and Moon, and they’re smiling and giggling. Yasmine, of all people, is smiling at nerdy little Eli’s antics.

Demetri squints, and sees that Eli’s showing the two girls a comic book--he recognizes the copy. It’s Eli’s limited edition Captain Marvel comic book, signed by Kelly Sue DeConnick herself. Demetri remembers standing in line with him at a con to get it a few years back--he’s pretty protective of the thing.

And now he’s using it to impress girls? Because apparently Yasmine and Moon are into that kind of thing? Oh, but of course Yasmine couldn’t be into nerd shit when DEMETRI was dating her, could she?

And those gooey eyes Moon is giving Eli, her little giggles--Demetri doesn’t like them one bit. What, now Eli’s worth her affections--now that his “nerdiness” is cool? Aren’t she and Yasmine a stupid item, anyways?

Deciding he’s going to put a stop to this, Demetri saunters over, lunch tray clutched so hard his knuckles are turning white. Before the group can react to his presence, Demetri picks up his chocolate milk carton and dumps it all over Eli’s stupid blue hair, making sure to get plenty on the rare comic book in front of him.

“Oh, I hope that wasn’t important, was it Eli?” he taunts, voice thick with mock sympathy. “That sure would be a shame.”

Eli turns to look at him, eyes wide with heartbroken shock. For a moment, the anger doesn’t set in.

“I had to wait in line 5 hours to get that,” he says quietly. “You know that.”

“Sure do.” Demetri smirks. “And it took all of 5 seconds to completely ruin. How tragic.”

Eli tenses, eyes darting around for a couple seconds. Demetri starts to walk away, his point made, when he feels an iron grip on his wrist. He turns to see Eli smirking at him, clutching his arm with more force than he ever thought possible from the once-timid boy.

“Careful there, Demetri,” Eli sneers. “Coming all the way across the cafeteria to bother me when you’ve got your cool Cobra Kai friends to hang out with? People might think you’re a little...obsessed with me.” Yasmine and Moon snicker, and Demetri bristles as he realizes the implication.

“Although I shouldn’t be surprised since you love obsessing over other boys, don’t you?” Eli goes on, like his point isn’t clear enough. “Y’know, I feel bad for Yasmine. I mean, any idiot could tell she used you as a beard, but I had no idea it was a mutual thing.”

Demetri tenses, willing himself not to lose his cool. “Really letting that little victory get to your head, aren’t you, Eli? Honestly, I was going easy on you. Now I know not to next time.”

It’s at that moment that Sam LaRusso decides to show up, sliding up next to Eli and glowering up at Demetri. “There won’t be a next time if I have anything to say about it,” she retorts.

Demetri can’t help but scoff. Of course Sam LaRusso would be all too eager to defend her little pet nerd now, even though she was all too happy to laugh at him with her mean girl friends a year ago. “I’m not scared of you,” he says. “Like you’d start any fight daddy couldn’t bail you out of. Or that doesn’t end with your ex boyfriend getting thrown over a railing because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.”

It’s a low blow, but Demetri doesn’t care. It’s hard not to look at this girl and see part of the reason Miguel might never be able to walk again.

Sam LaRusso shoves him just as the godawful counselor is sauntering over, but to hell with it--maybe Demetri could spin this to his advantage.

“She hit me, Counselor Blatt!” he cries out, pointing at Sam. “Attacked and physically assaulted me, completely unprovoked!”

“That’s not true,” Eli mumbles, eyes darting. Flawlessly slipping back into the poor little Eli role in a way that never fails to make Demetri seethe. “It wasn’t unprovoked. He started all this by destroying my limited-edition comic book for no reason.”

Demetri puts on his most convincing remorseful face and sighs. “Look, that was an accident. I just tripped while I was walking and my milk spilled. Anyhow, if your book’s that valuable, you probably shouldn’t bring it into a school cafeteria where people are more than likely going to spill food on it.”

He’d like to see the dumb counselor argue with that.

“Look, I don’t want excuses. I just want you all to respect each other.”

“Oh, absolutely.” Demetri turns to give Eli a forced smile. “Nothing but 100% respect in this environment going forward, I assure you. Sorry if we caused any problems.”

Please, just anything to make her leave.

With one last warning to Sam LaRusso, the counselor is gone. Demetri turns to the two Miyagi-Dos and smirks.

“To hell with respect,” he sneers. “Your lot hardly deserve it.”

It doesn’t surprise Demetri when Eli and his little gang of Miyagi-Do losers decide to start shit in gym class. What he isn’t expecting is for Eli and his stupid blue hair to start running next to him--right after he’s tried and failed to catch Yasmine’s attention after scoring a goal.

He’s been thinking about her all morning--was Eli right about her? Did she only use him as a cover-up?

...would no one ever want to date him for him?

Well, maybe if he won Yasmine back, he could disprove that. If Moon was going to be hanging off of Eli’s arm before too long, chances were her and Yasmine’s relationship’s days were numbered.

Whatever Eli is about to say, Demetri can already tell it’s not going to help.

And it doesn’t. “Wow, Demetri. Few guys are so bad in a relationship that they manage to turn their girlfriend gay. I hope you feel accomplished.”

Demetri balls his fists. “Say that again. I dare you.”

“You really did have a good thing going with her,” Eli sighed, voice laced with condescending pity. “It’s a shame she decided she could do better than some belligerent Cobra Kai douchebag.”

And then suddenly Eli lunges for him and tackles him, knocking him to the ground just as easily as Demetri once did to Eli at the mall.

Not that it ended up mattering all that much--Demetri was able to talk the Cobra Kai’s way out of trouble in the principal’s office, just as he so often could. Nonetheless, it seemed Eli was hardly turning out to be as much of a pushover as he thought.

When Mitch and the guys invited Demetri to go to Golf N Stuff--fuck around for a bit, cause some mayhem--he wasn’t about to say no. The thrill took over, running around, snatching tickets and prizes away, throwing them in the trash--he almost felt as powerful as Kyler must have, all those months ago when he tossed the lesser kids’ backpacks in the garbage. Is this how it felt, to be on top? To have everyone else too scared to mess with you?

Because Demetri loved it.

What he wasn’t counting on was Sam LaRusso and her little posse arriving to confront them in the laser tag arena--including Eli, face hardened and ready to fight.

Things seemed to be going pretty poorly--that was, until Tory Nichols and the backup arrived. That reduced Sam LaRusso to a sniveling mess, and finally it looked like this would be an easy finish.

Demetri found himself only stalling for a second when the way cleared for him to go at Eli. Something about the sudden terror on the other boy’s face made him hesitate, but not for long. Eli threw a weak punch, and Demetri quickly flipped him onto the ground, pulling his arm up behind him.

“No, please, stop, Deme, stop! It’s me!”

Deme...

Eli’s old nickname for him.

Demetri pauses, and suddenly he feels sick. Deme...Eli’s nickname. Eli.

Wasn’t all of this for Eli? To protect Eli?

And now here he was, about to hurt him. The one thing he swore he was going to stop everyone else from doing.

And then comes the goading cries from Tory, Mitch, and the others. Do it! Finish him! He deserves it!

He deserves it.

And then Demetri remembers what happened to Miguel when he didn’t take his chance to finish the fight with Robby Keene. Suddenly Demetri’s running out of the end of a hallway again, seeing Miguel’s motionless body lying on the stairs, and the rage and horror and mind-numbing devastation hit him all over again.

“Demetri, finish him!”

In a split second, Demetri makes his decision. Eli’s arm snaps in half.

All it takes is one terrible, pained scream from Eli for Demetri’s entire world to come crashing down on him. What the fuck did he just do?

He can’t even hear the other Cobras, gleefully congratulating him and sneering at the “pussy” on the floor. All he can hear are Eli’s pained sobs.

He’d seen Eli cry before, but never like this. Never thanks to him.

When everyone congratulates him next practice, Demetri barely hears. He’s just numb. All he can see is Eli, curled up and crying on the dirty cement floor. When Tory tells him she didn’t think he was going to do it, all he can manage out is that Miyagi-Do had it coming for hurting Miguel.

And as if his week can’t get any worse, here come Kyler and his goons sauntering into the dojo like they own the damn place. Demetri does his best to convince Mr. Kreese this is by no means a wise idea, but the sensei will not hear of it.

When Kyler and Brucks realize who he is, it only makes Demetri more livid. “Oh shit, it’s the yogurt backpack kid! Lip’s little friend! I thought he moved away!” When a fighting ring is formed, giving the new recruits a chance to “earn their spot,” Demetri is all too ready for combat.

He’s horrified at how quickly Brucks takes down Mitch, how quickly his friend is ushered out the door. It was bad enough to see Bert go, but this...this is different.

He can’t remember the last time he’s felt more alone.

When Kyler steps forward, looking for an opponent, Demetri volunteers before anyone else can. Mr. Kreese shoots him a surprised look, but he doesn’t care. This fucko has been making his life hell for years--he can already tell this is going to be therapeutic.

Demetri doesn’t hold back. The fight has barely started before Kyler’s had enough. A few fast hits and his lip’s already bloody, and he’s backing away. “No...please stop...”

And suddenly Demetri’s back in the library, on that afternoon that seems like an eternity ago, watching Kyler grip Eli by the throat. Hearing him sneer “who would ever want to kiss THAT shit?” like Eli was the most disgusting thing he’d ever seen. Feeling absolutely powerless, hand clutching the back of a chair as he burned with rage that had nowhere to go.

Well, he wasn’t powerless now.

And before he knows it Demetri has Kyler pinned to the ground, landing punch after punch to his face. Because, he realizes, at the end of the day, who gives a fuck if Eli’s on the other side?

That’s still his Eli, even after everything. The same Eli he stood by for over 10 years, the same Eli who he wished so long that he could protect from everything, the same Eli who felt like he had to constantly hide a tiny red line on his face because his peers collectively decided--for no good reason at all--that it was ugly.

And maybe he couldn’t make those people hurt the way he wanted to then, but right now...well, he could hurt at least one. And that was enough.

He doesn’t stop until Kyler is practically pulverized and his hands are drenched in blood. After throwing his last punch, he smirks, leaning down to whisper into Kyler’s ear.

“Now who’d want to kiss THAT shit? That’s right, asshole--I remember.”

Demetri kicks Kyler’s limp form as he walks away. He shoots Brucks a glare as he falls back in line--just for good measure.

When Miguel comes back to school, Demetri’s one of the first to greet him at the door. “Cobra Kai’s still going strong! It’s going to be great to have you back!” He’s a little confused as to why Miguel seems so hesitant, but he doesn’t worry too much about it--they can sort through all that later.

Miguel’s certainly taken aback by the clunky cast he sees on Eli’s arm when he runs into him in the hall--but perhaps even moreso by the fact that he has both shamelessly dyed his hair blue and spiked it up in a mohawk and is currently walking the school hallways with Moon on his (unbroken) arm. As it turns out, once word got back to Moon that Yasmine was the one who had shamelessly whispered around the school about Demetri being gay, she had broken things off with her. And, with his new “coolness” upgrade, she’d taken quite a liking to Eli.

Not like she had any way of knowing he’d been planning on Yasmine’s cruel gossip, after all.

But the cast, Miguel quickly learns, has a much darker backstory than anything he could have expected.

He wastes no time confronting Demetri about it in the lunchroom. “I heard what happened with Eli. How could you do that?”

Demetri’s stomach clutches. He scowls, determined not to show his discomfort.

“Wow!” He scoffs. “We go to all the trouble of getting payback on those assholes for getting you thrown over that railing, and this is the thanks we get?”

Miguel shakes his head, horrified. “Dude, who cares what dojo Eli’s in? He’s our friend! And in any case, it’s not his fault what happened to me. What the hell were you thinking?”

I don’t know. I don’t know. Demetri’s face hardens. He can only imagine how angry Mr. Kreese would be with him if he caught him showing any kind of weakness. Any kind of second-guessing.

But he can’t help it. Glimpsing Eli in that cast for the first time...

“Look, the Miyagi-Dos were the ones who picked a fight with us,” Demetri retorts. “We just had to do what we had to so they’d back off and leave us alone. We had to finish the fight.”

Miguel pauses, looking pained. “This isn’t...this isn’t you, Demetri. You’re letting Kreese get in your head. He’s trying to manipulate you, get you to...obsess over revenge so you’ll hurt people. But I know you, and I know you don’t want to. Eli, or anyone else.”

Demetri clenches his fists. “What would you know about how I feel about Eli?”

“Look, I can’t claim I know what’s going on between you two,” Miguel amends. “But you have to believe me--Kreese is dangerous. He’s using you. He doesn’t care about you, Demetri. Just...come to Sensei Lawrence’s new dojo. Please. Things can be like they used to. You don’t have to be in this...this war.”

This gives Demetri pause. “He...made a new dojo?”

Okay, so he’s still not Mr. Lawrence’s biggest fan--the man is an asshole at the best of times. But to be able to train with Miguel again...to be able to be badass without being expected to be some soldier...

He can’t finish speaking before Brucks’s voice rings out through the cafeteria. “Look everyone, Lip’s got a dick in his hand!”

Demetri looks up to see Eli being held by the cast, eyes darting around as the entire cafeteria bursts into laughter. Involuntarily, Demetri bristles.

And there it is again, that feeling of being the helpless kid in the library as Eli’s taunted. And even after all this time...he still hates it.

Miguel turns to him, shaking his head. “So these are your friends now? I thought you were better than that.”

And just like that, Miguel’s gone. Gone from the Cobra Kai table, gone from Demetri’s life.

It makes him wonder if he’s making a huge mistake. But he knows he can’t back out now--not when he’s this far in. Who would even want to take him back? Probably not Miguel and Mr. Lawrence--despite what Miguel said, Demetri knows there’s no way he’s going to forgive him so easily for hurting their other friend. And certainly not Eli.

What makes it even worse is seeing Eli later that day, curled up against some lockers with Moon. Moon is tracing over his cast in colored sharpie, slowly transforming the dick pic into a beautiful landscape and night sky. Eli is bragging about how the arm-breaking didn’t hurt that bad.

Demetri remembers when that soft little smile was reserved only for him, and a pit starts to form in his stomach.

Well, no use bitching. You did this to yourself.

It seems like the world is out to just make Demetri’s existence in Cobra Kai as shitty as possible these days. Mitch and Bert are gone, Miguel isn’t coming back, Brucks is being a royal douchebag like always, and perhaps worst of all, Robby Keene shows up at the dojo. Demetri tries his damndest to appeal to Mr. Kreese about how outrageous this is--this is the kid who paralyzed Miguel in the fucking first place, what’s the point of dojo-wide revenge if they just take in the main culprit like an old buddy? But of course Mr. Kreese spouts some nonsense about how they need all the help they can get for the All-Valley, and sometimes you have to be allies with people you aren’t the biggest fans of, blah blah blah. To make matters worse, Tory--not a friend exactly, but probably the closest thing Demetri’s got to one left--is getting far too chummy with Robby for Demetri’s taste.

Maybe Demetri’s insane, but it seems like more and more ridiculous shit is being handwaved in the name of...what? Winning a karate tournament? Getting revenge for a kid who’s already recovered, and doesn’t even seem to want it?

When word gets back to Cobra Kai that Miyagi-Do and Eagle Fang are teaming up, Kreese sends the students on a special mission: Show the other dojos that even with their combined forces, they’re no match for Cobra Kai. It seems like a waste of time to Demetri--why antagonize other dojos just minding their business? It’s not like there was anything worth fighting for in this dumb war anymore, considering Miguel was on his feet again (literally AND figuratively). Nonetheless, Demetri finds he’s itching for a good fight--it’s been way too long since he’s charged into a full-fledged battle.

Maybe this will help him get it out of his system, if nothing else.

When the fight breaks out at the LaRussos, it doesn’t take long for Demetri to be overtaken by the thrill of it. Just like he was at the school fight. Just like he was at the tournament. He’s zipping through the house, landing kicks and punches left and right. And it feels good. With everything having been so awful lately, he can’t remember the last time he’s felt more alive.

And then he lands a fierce kick, and Brucks chest-bumps him. “Hell yeah! kick some ass! Dumb losers never had a chance.”

Brucks. The same kid who laughed when he saw Eli starting to cry about the comments he made on his lip. The same kid claiming Kyler tossing his backpack into a yogurt-filled trash can was “brute.” And now here he was trying to be buddy-buddy with him.

Everything comes crashing down on Demetri at once.

Miguel’s speech, saying Kreese is manipulating him. Saying Kreese doesn’t care about him. Kreese cherry-picking what does and doesn’t count as vengeance--hurting Eli, someone who had nothing to do with Miguel’s fall, does, but teaming up with the kid responsible for said fall apparently does not. Demetri’s friends being booted from Cobra Kai one by one, just for not being strong enough.

The sound of Eli’s screams and sobs in a dark laser tag room.

Miguel was right, wasn’t he? Kreese never cared about getting payback for him. He only cared about starting a war for his own sadistic pleasures.

Demetri hears grunting and whimpering, and he looks up to see two of the other Cobras kneeing Eli in the chest over and over. Pinning him into an arm bar.

“Yo, ‘Mete!” one calls out. “Free shot!”

Eli looks up, gaze full of fear and pain. Bright blue irises glinting with welling tears.

Once upon a time, Demetri made a promise to himself that he would stick with karate, aggravating as it may be, so he would never have to see that look on Eli’s face again. It’s time, he figures, that he finally made good on that.

His face contorts into a snarl, and he runs to Eli. Eli closes his eyes and scrunches his face, bracing for a pain that never comes.

Demetri kicks one Cobra to the wayside and smashes the other into a glass table with perhaps more force and adrenaline than he’s used all night.

When he turns to Eli, the other boy backs away, eyes still wide with terror. Demetri feels sick to his stomach, and the tears come before he can stop them.

“God, Eli, I’m so sorry,” he splutters. “I’m so fucking sorry, for everything. I don’t know what I was thinking, and it was all so fucked up, and--”

“Demetri.”

“--I’ll never hurt you like that again, but if you don’t want anything to do with me now, I totally understand, and--”

“Demetri.”

“--I was so awful to you, and I didn’t listen to you, and I should’ve been there for you, and I’m such a piece of shit friend and--”

“DEMETRI!”

Finally Eli raises his voice enough that Demetri pauses. “...yeah, Eli?”

“Please stop talking. I forgive you. Now are you going to shut up and help me finish this?” He raises a hand, as if to initiate their old handshake. An olive branch.

Demetri grins so wide he thinks his face is going to break, and he grips Eli’s hand like a lifeline. Something to finally pull him out of the darkness. “Yeah.”

They’re a lethal fighting team. Between Demetri landing speedy hits and Eli protecting him and shielding them both with his bulked-up form (where did he get all that muscle? Demetri wonders), they dispatch half the Cobras in minutes. Whatever rush Demetri was feeling fighting when he first got here is nothing compared to fighting with Eli.

When they stop the fight between Tory and Sam, Tory wastes no time voicing her disdain for the ex-Cobras. “You’d better watch your back,” she spits at Demetri, and he feels a chill run through him. Turns out this girl is terrifying when she’s not fighting on your side.

Eli intercepts her as she leaves, staring her down defiantly in a very un-Eli-like manner. “You’d better watch yours,” he growls. “Touch him, and I’ll end you.”

Demetri glances over in surprise. When did Eli get so bold?

Well...he thinks he could grow to like it.

Season 4 (because fuck it)

Demetri is hardly expecting Mr. LaRusso and Mr. Lawrence to forgive him, never mind let him into their new dojo. But life has a lot of pleasant surprises in store for him, it seems, after the shitshow it recently put him through. It’s also possible Eli (and maybe Miguel too) but in a good word for him.

Demetri can’t stop apologizing to Eli. Seemingly every day, he finds a new thing to apologize for. Eli gets aggravated with it before long, having to reassure Demetri at least 50 separate times that he forgives him for everything. Nonetheless, Demetri refuses to stop--because he’ll never stop being sorry.

Or trying to find new ways to make it up to Eli. Going easy on him during sparring. Buying him lunch after practice. Helping him perfect some of the most badass Cobra moves.

Things end between Eli and Moon. Eli can’t fully elaborate on why--he just tells Demetri something didn’t feel quite right. The spark died out, like Demetri’s adrenaline rush slowly seeping away toward the end of a fight. That, and, Demetri gathers, something seems to have been distracting Eli from his girlfriend as of late.

Most likely the approaching, high stakes All-Valley. Karate is Serious Business, as they’ve both embraced now.

Rumor has it Yasmine and Moon are trying again, Yasmine realizing for seemingly the first time how awful she’s really been and making an effort to be better. Moon makes her want to be better--more than Demetri ever did, he realizes. And maybe that’s okay--he and Yasmine probably just weren’t right for each other.

Then one day, after yet another one of Demetri’s long-winded apologies, Eli offers something other than an exasperated. “It’s okay. Seriously.” There’s a pause before Eli quietly says “I’m sorry too.”

“For what?” Demetri blurts out, baffled. Everything Eli’s done has paled in comparison to his own atrocities.

“For outing you,” Eli says simply. “That was fucked. And it wasn’t my place, even if I was mad at you.”

“It’s all right.” Demetri shrugs. “You were right, anyways.”

Eli gives him a strange look. “I was?”

“Yeah, I mean...” Demetri laughs dryly. “I don’t...like girls. I pretended I did, because I felt like I was supposed to. That’s what people expect you to do when you’re a top athlete and all that. But dating Yasmine, chasing other girls, it always felt...empty. Like I was just acting out a role in a play or something. And at the end of the day, I think...” He pauses. “I think I was always looking at you.”

Because the last few months have made him realize something. Training with Eli, teaching Eli how to protect himself, watching Eli step up and defend him from the mistrusting stares and the scornful whispers...

Just how much of the person he’s become is thanks to wanting to protect Eli. The fact that that was always how all this started.

“I love you,” he blurts out, before he can stop himself. “I know I did a shitty job of showing it, and I know you were with Moon and you’re not like that, but I need you to know, and I understand if you don’t feel--”

Eli cuts him off with a fierce kiss, pinning him up against the dojo wall with unexpected aggressiveness.

When Eli pulls away, he’s smiling softly. The same smile he gave Moon in the hall as she drew on his cast--the smile that’s once again all Demetri’s.

“I love you too,” he murmurs. “Why do you think I broke up with Moon? Every time I was with her...I couldn’t stop wishing it was you. She’ll never know me like you do.”

And Kreese had better look out because Miyagi Fang’s next big power couple is a force to be reckoned with--the snarky, frighteningly fast-attacking ex-Cobra, and the buff, blue-mohawked Miyagi-Do with more inner peace than anyone would expect.

SOME RANDOM SIDENOTES ABOUT THIS BECAUSE I DIDN’T FEEL LIKE PUTTING THIS ALL IN THE TAGS

~I’m sorry if anyone is OOC in this--I know Johnny is kind of a fuck, but he genuinely WAS pretty crappy to Eli at first and who knows if he would’ve treated him any better if he didn’t “flip the script”??? ~Dark/Evil Demetri is so fun but also so awful to write--I hope you like him being an absolute fuck because the Corruption Arc is REAL ~Yes, I DO in fact fully believe Demetri would go on a crazed revenge quest just like Eli/Hawk did out of his grief for Miguel--the boy absolutely loves Miguel and arguably would want vengeance as much as Eli if their roles were swapped!!! Because Demetri cares about Miguel SO FUCKING MUCH even if it’s not as obvious as it is with Eli but that’s a rant for another post ~I included YasMoon because fuck it, I thought it’d be interesting. That and, unlike the Cobra Kai writers, I am not at all afraid of what conservative audiences will say, so I am not afraid to make things as gay as possible. ~There’s a good chance I swapped Kyler and Brucks’ places near the end solely so I could have Demetri beat the fuck out of Kyler because I just really need that ~Yes, even without formally becoming “Hawk,” Eli could learn how to be a conniving manipulative little shit if he wanted to be. Look at some of the shit he pulls with the counselor in canon Season 3!!! Boy sure as hell knows how to play the victim. ~Honestly not sure if being outed as gay is better or worse than being outed as a bed-wetter, but I had to think of something that would pack the same kind of emotional punch. In Eli’s feeble defense, the West Valley High kids don’t seem like the types to be like...especially violent against queer kids (otherwise NO WAY would Moon and Piper have been able to be that open about their relationship), they’d just be assholes about it. So Eli wasn’t putting Demetri in legit danger here so much as just opening him up to a lot of ridicule. Which is still fucked, but hey, I DID warn you this would be kind of fucked up XD ~Maybe short, concise apologies work for Eli, bUT NOT FOR DEMETRI THE RAMBLER ~Dark Demetri chasing Eli through the school like a goddamn serial killer = 10/10 gave myself a big Spook writing ~Yes, Eli does still have (and always had) his “Hawk” traits, even without the formal “transformation.” I just think his “Hawk” side would be a little more subtle and subdued if he were in Miyagi-Do, but it’s still there for sure.

51 notes · View notes

justcourttee · 4 years

Note

So you are one of my favorite writers for the Maribat Fandom and this is litterally like just on the edge getting ready to dive into barely there territory. . . but imagine Chloe "Queen B" Bourgeois deciding that Roy Harper is her future husband because he is the only one her age with the potential to even hyphenate Queen. She /will/ get her title in her civilian life if she has to drag Roy to the courthouse herself. Cue shenanigans and chaos friends to lovers lol

You’re so sweet and I hope I did your prompt justice. I love the Roy X Chloe energy and this is just something I could picture cannon Chloe trying. I hope you enjoy! @risaxtitan

The Future Mrs. Queen

The day Oliver Queen announced to the world in that fated press conference that he was adopting Roy Harper, the younger boy had no idea how much his life was about to change.

He was still floating on Cloud 9 as he stepped off of the stage and into the crowd where his friends awaited him.

“Dude, congrats! It’s like all official now!” Adrien clapped him on the back, causing him to stumble forward a little.

“It still feels unreal.”

“Tt, it’s not like your his blood son, but I suppose this will be a good opportunity for you.”

Roy cocked his head to the side as he tried to debate if Damian was congratulating him or not. A small smack echoed following an ‘oof’ as Marinette’s bright smile entered his view.

“I’m so happy for you Roy! Conner, Jon, and Wally wanted to come with us, but you know how it goes. Always a mission somewhere.”

Roy shook his head, the smile still plastered across his face.

“It’s fine Mari, it’s not like today was the real thing. This was just a press conference. They were there when we officially signed the papers and that’s what matters in my book.”

“So, like, is your last name officially Queen now?”

Roy’s attention snapped to his left where a familiar blonde stepped out from behind Adrien. She fiddled with the ends of her curled hair, her mischievous blue eyes locked onto his. Certainly if a beautiful girl like her had told him her name, he wouldn’t have forgotten it.

“I suppose so. It’s officially Roy William Harper-Queen.”

Her smile was blinding as he nervously reached back to rub the back of his very warm neck.

“Oh Gods, we are so dense! I’m sorry Roy! This is my friend Chloe Bourgeois! Adrien was supposed to introduce you two earlier, but we all got separated in the crowd. She’s a big fan of Oliver Queen, so when she heard my dear friend was getting adopted by him-”

“I just had to come.” She stepped in front of Marinette, reaching forward to grab his hand. “Did you know that I tried to legally change my name to Queen? But my mother wouldn’t let me! She’s ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. Something about it wouldn’t be good for my modeling career or whatever. But now, you can help me with that! Can’t be bad if it’s my husband’s last name.”

Roy stumbled out of her grasps, his entire face matching the red on his head.

“Hu-husband? Girl, we just met. You can’t go around saying things like that!”

Chloe waved off his embarrassment as her blinding smile pulled into a mischievous smirk.

“Like it or not Roy Harper-Queen, you will be my husband, even if I have to drag you to the courthouse myself!”

“Yeah right blondie.” He couldn’t help the stutter in his voice as he hid behind Damian’s chuckling figure.

There was no denying how attractive she was, but he would be damned if he let a pretty blonde step in and seal his fate.

“Maybe not today, but you’re going to love me Roy Harper-Queen, just you wait.”

The flip of her hair felt like a slap across his face as he watched her retreating figure dragging Marinette with her.

“So like, Can I be your best man? I know that you’ve known the other’s longer and all, but like we are always hanging out together! That has to count for something.”

Adrien’s wide eyes and pout earned a slight chuckle from the redhead as his eyes trailed back to where his friends stood.

“Sure Agreste, I’m sure everyone won’t mind one bit. You might have to fight Tim-”

“Tt, is that supposed to be a threat?”

Adrien and Roy shared a look before bursting into laughter. Roy slung his arms around the two boys as they headed off into the crowd. He wouldn’t see Chloe for another couple of weeks, but that didn’t stop the blonde from monopolizing his every thought.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“C’mon Arsenal, you really going to let your ass get beat by a little girl?”

Roy sneered as he pushed himself off the matt for the third time that day.

When Dick asked if he wanted to train with the Batclan, Roy was over the moon. Batman hardly let anyone into his special training spot without him being there. He didn’t think twice when he put the motorcycle in park outside of Wayne Manor. He already knew what to expect, Dick’s flexibility, Stephanie’s strategy, Damian’s rage. What he wasn’t expecting was to see a certain blonde and his two friends.

“She’s not beating my ass Stephanie, I just don’t want to hurt her.”

Dick had a hard time holding back his laugh as he leaned on Marinette for support. A hand shot into his line of view as he accepted Chloe’s helping pull him the rest of the way to his feet.

“C’mon mon chéri, your face is pretty too, but it’s not going to make me pull my punches. Give it to me, cherry.” She sent a wink in his direction as she set up for another spar.

If you asked Roy later, the red in his cheeks was from the anger at being called a cherry, but anyone could see the blush betraying him.

Chloe darted forward, dodging his first swing before smacking his butt.

“HEY!”

Roy pushed himself out of her reach as Stephanie and her shared a fist bump. There was no way he was getting out of training alive. He needed a way to finish this as quickly as possible.

“Blondie, what if we make a bet?”

Chloe raised her eyebrow at him, encouraging him to continue as she set herself back up in the circle.

“The next one of us to pin the other gets to pick the next hang out spot. I know it’s your turn in the rotation, so if you win, nobody will put a restriction on your choice.”

Her eyes glistened dangerously as a collective gasp sounded behind them.

“Hey, Roy, are you sure you want to do that? She-”

“Shut it Agreste. The boy has named his terms, no restrictions for me, or he gets to steal my turn. I’ll gladly accept Ginger.”

A sudden shift in the atmosphere was easily noticeable. Inadvertently, a shiver went down his back as every hair on his body stood in high alert. Her first strike was quick, he barely lifted his arms up in time to block it before she had hopped backwards, ready to hit again.

He thought he was the one holding back before, but clearly he was underestimating. Here she was, no longer holding back, toying with him as if he was nothing more than her prey. It was a bit terrifying.

Just as he extended his arm to try and make contact, Roy suddenly found himself on his back, her knee at his throat.

“God, when did you even knock my feet out?”

Her eyes were dancing with humor as she slowly stood, offering her hand to the boy below.

“We tried to warn you, my friend. Chloe doesn’t do competition, she destroys them.”

Adrien offered his hand as well and together the two blondes heaved him to his feet. Marnette shook her head solemnly as she and Dick mock prayed for Roy’s fate.

“So, no restrictions huh? That means overseas is fair game.” Chloe placed a hand gently on Roy’s shoulder sending a chill down his spine. “Guess tomorrow, we are going to Paris, France. Richard, is there a Zeta-Tube that does overseas?”

Dick finished his mock prayer before sending a nod in her direction.

“Perfect. Marinette, tell your little gloomy boyfriend and Timothy that we will be taking a day trip tomorrow, to the city of love.”

She sent a wink to Roy as she stepped out of the rink to grab her towel. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t ignore the racing in his heart all from one little comment.

“You are falling so hard, my friend!” Roy flinched as Dick threw his arm over his shoulder, sharing a fist bump with Adrien.

“I am not! I barely know her! We’re like acquaintances, at most she’s just a friend.”

Adrien stiffened as he bit back his laughter.

“Just you wait, after tomorrow, you’ll be questioning everything you know.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Roy was indeed questioning everything, like his sanity, as he stepped out of the tube and onto the tallest platform of the Eiffel Tower. Taking a quick step back from the edge, he found himself pressed against the cool metal.

“Isn’t it like illegal to be this high up?”

Chloe’s giggle filled the air as she smacked his arm lightly.

“Of course it is, for normal people that is. We can’t just have everyone using the Zeta tubes ginger.” Her fingers curled into his hair as she gave it a light ruffle.

“Tt, man up Harper. Even if you fall, it’s not like you’d hit the ground before someone here saved your sorry ass.”

A small ‘oof’ echoed from where Damian stood as Marinette stepped out of the tube.

“You didn’t even hear what I said!”

“True,” she shrugged, a smug smile pulling at her lips. “But I assume you were making fun of Roy.”

Damian huffed under his breath as he snaked his arm around her waist, drawing her into his side. Roy was never sure how someone like Damian could have landed a sweet angel like Marinette, but if it meant he had a constant guardian angel, he could care less.

“Where’s Adrikins?”

“He said, and I quote, ‘I don’t want to be a third wheel and neither does Tim.’”

Chloe rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide the sparkle from the new information.

“Looks like it’s a double date!” She gripped Roy’s arm pulling him from his safety. “You wouldn’t leave me alone to those two annoying lovebirds would you Harper?”

Roy gulped nervously as his eyes darted between the couple and the blonde hanging off of him. With a sigh of defeat, he nodded, allowing her to pull him closer to the edge.

“I hope you’re ready Harper because if you survive today, there’s no way you won’t fall for me.”

Without warning, Chloe used all her strength to push him off the platform. The scream caught in his throat as the wind rushed past him. Some first date! Here she was trying to kill him within the first five minutes!

A flash of yellow flew past him, catching his attention briefly before an arm yanked him out of midair. This time, the scream managed to slip out, but instead of fear, he felt instant relief as he flew through the air pinned to Queen Bee’s side.

“There was an easier way of doing this Chloe!” He tried to shout over the wind but it felt useless. The only indication that she might have heard his pleas came from the sideways smile she flashed him as the came to a halt in an alleyway.

As his feet touched to ground, his legs instantly gave out. On his hands and knees, Roy reassured himself that this was safe, in solid ground. Moments later, a flash of pink blinded him as Marinette and Damian landed in front of him.

“What’s wrong Harper? You look a little green. I thought that was Oliver’s color.”

Roy’s middle finger only seemed to fuel the egotistical smirk Damian bestowed on him.

“If that was too much, I can’t wait to see how you handle the rest of the day.”

His eyes widened as he tried to imagine what could be worse than freefalling a few hundred feet from the highest structure in Paris. Little did he know, he would soon get his answer.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Bourgeois.” He tried to keep his voice steady as he offered his hand to her, but the condescending stare made him want to crumble.

“What do you expect me to do? Shake your hand? Honey, you may have been adopted into money, but you are not money. I do not touch any person that is worth less than I am.”

She turned her back briskly as Roy slowly dropped his hand, unsure of whether to be insulted or not.

“Mom, Roy is my friend, can’t you be nice?”

Her mother’s cold glare rested on Chloe. Roy had no idea how she managed to stand her ground. He wanted to crumble for her.

“You are lucky I let you into my workshop after you have missed the past three fittings. When I said you could move to America with the Marianne kid, I expected you to still make time for the business. Should I begin looking for your replacement?”

The tension between the two of them was deadly. Roy wanted to step in, tell her mother to back off, that Chloe was a hero who didn’t always have time for fashion, but somehow, he figured it would only make it worse.

“No mother, I am here now am I not? Let us work quickly so that I can return home.”

Her tone was icy as she stepped forward, holding out her arms for her mother to remeasure. Roy shifted from foot to foot as he held back his tongue. Her mother commented on her weight gain, complained that she was going to begin to fat to be her model anymore. She commented on her studies, or lack of, and on her being a class d hero compared to Superman.

It was to quietest he had ever seen Chloe Bourgeois.

“If that will be all mother, Roy and I have to meet up with Damian and Marinette.”

Her mother waved her off. Not a single love you, not even a real goodbye. Roy was sure his face matched his hair by the time they had set foot back into the streets.

“So, Mari’s parent's house isn’t too far from here. Wanna swing over?”

It was as if a switch flipped. Back was the flirty social butterfly that he had gotten to know over the past couple of weeks.

“Chloe.”

“C’mon carrot top, swinging really isn’t a bad way to transport. It’s quick and effective.”

“Chloe.”

“Don’t be a chicke-”

“Chloe.”

He hadn’t meant to raise his voice, but he knew what she was trying to do.

“Chloe, why do you let her treat you like that?”

Her lips were pressed into a tight line as she turned, taking a step away from the building.

“Chloe, you don’t have to pretend that it didn’t happen. I’m not going to tell anyone, it’s just, the Chloe I saw in there is nothing like the one I’ve come to know.”

“Well, maybe all you know is a lie.”

Her voice was quiet as she took off at a brisk pace down the street. It took Roy a second to process before he took off after her. Gently, he pulled her arm until she came to a stop once more.

“Then let me get to know the real Chloe. After all, I can’t marry someone I don’t know!”

She laughed half-heartedly at his joke, her smile weak.

“She isn’t very good with her emotions and neither am I. I know that she cares, hell, she wouldn’t let me explore this hero side of me if she didn’t think I had potential. But she always puts business first. I never wanted to go into business with her because she can’t separate family and employees. But I need the money. Daddy won’t let me touch my trust fund until I am secure on my own.”

Roy nodded, a number of things falling into place.

“Why don’t you work for Oliver or Bruce like the rest of us?”

Chloe shrugged, her fingers absentmindedly reaching for his.

“They have offered before, but I really feel like the way to her heart is through the family business. I know she wants to leave it to me one day and if I abandon it now, she might reconsider, and honestly, that would hurt her more than me. She’ll never say it to my face, but it would mean the world to me if I could be her legacy.”

A moment of silence passed, and then two as Roy admired the determination that crossed her face. Somehow, it made her more beautiful than she already was. He hadn’t even noticed how close they had gotten until a soft cough snapped him back to reality.

“Well, we only left you for like two hours. Is this a new development?”

Marinette and Damian shared a smirk as Chloe dropped his hand as if it was burning her. She tried to pull up her scarf, but it was too late. The red on her cheeks were burning, matching his he was sure.

“I don’t know what you are referring to Dupain-Cheng. Let’s head back to the tower. A certain blonde must feel my wrath.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

As Roy laid in bed that night, his thoughts kept wandering back to that moment.

She was so close, her lips were so close, so full, so red. They were drawing him in and if Marinette hadn’t stopped them..

“Ughh,” he buried his red face into his pillow, willing his pounding heart to still.

He rolled over to where his phone sat, the dark screen bugging him. Not a single text from her after they returned, not even one from Marinette or Damian teasing him. Reaching out, he lifted the phone toward his face.

Clicking on his photos, the most recent one lit up his entire screen, sending his heart into another fury. Chloe had borrowed his phone, leaving several adorable selfies that he only found a couple hours later.

Not that he wanted to admit it to anyone, but maybe he could admit to himself that just maybe, he was already head over heels for Chloe Bourgeois.

Just as he moved to place it back onto his charger, a text message pinged.

‘Still awake carrot top?’

Roy couldn’t help the smile that tore across his face.

‘Depends. Whose asking blondie?’

‘You’re ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. Now open your window, my arm is getting tired.’

Instantly, Roy shot up as he opened his window. Looking around, he couldn’t find her. He was ready to close it when his instinct told him to look up. Sure enough, Queen Bee sat dangling, motioning for him to move out her way.

With one great heave, Chloe swung into his room, dropping her transformation before her feet even touched the ground.

“Miss me that much?”

The sound of his own voice was foreign as his wide smile was certain to leave his cheeks sore in the morning.

“Oh don’t get full of yourself Harper. I just wanted to thank you for today.”

“Mhmm, this seems mighty personal for a thank you.” He took a step forward, his stomach flipping multiple times.

“I may have also wanted to see you. After all, no text, no call. How is a girl supposed to feel after you almost kiss her?”

She stepped forward closing the gap between them, the smirk on her face as graceful as ever.

“I could say the same thing about you. Running off to another man after spending a day in the city of love with me?”

Hestitanly, he raised his hand to cup her cheek, basking in the feeling of how soft her skin felt against his palm.

“Harper, I want to be to future Mrs.Queen, so what do you say? The courthouse is still open in Paris, we can go right now.”

Roy couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. Gently, he stroked the side of her cheek, admiring her every feature. Leaning forward, he heard her breath hitch in her throat right as their lips were a mere inch apart.

“How about we start with a first date? A real date?”

Chloe’s warm breath tickled his lips as his pounding heart awaited her answer.

“I suppose Mrs. Queen will have to wait, I’ll pick you up, tomorrow Harper. Be ready.”

Just as quickly as he leaned in, she lept back, already calling her transformation. Racing to the window, she looked over her shoulder, blowing him a kiss before slinging away. Hesitantly, he approached the window, watching her retreating figure, his heart still racing a million miles a minute.

It started off a soft chuckle, but it soon grew. With a grand smile, Roy returned to his bed, his thoughts all centered around one blonde. Marriage was sounding less and less like the scary thought he had when he first met her. He wasn’t sure the exact moment that it sounded so good, but he didn’t care.

After all, Chloe Harper-Queen had a nice ring to it.

Permanent Tag List:

@ash-amg @rebecarojas07 @heaven428 @long-lost-peace @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @moongoddesskiana @nach0ava @iamablinkmarvelarmy @seraphkitty @clumsy-owl-4178 @pawsitivelymiraculous @mialuvscats @leagrey @smolplantmum @animegirlweeb

#maribat #chloe x roy #miraculous ladybug

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caxsthetic · 4 years

Text

Not Anymore

Kageyama Tobio x F!Reader

You lose them not because you didn’t love them anymore. You lose them because you didn’t prioritize them anymore.

Kageyama Tobio didn't know what he needs to do when he saw you there, talking with one of the Miya twins while wearing your usual smile. It's been years since the last time he saw you, years since he left you not long after he knew that he will join V.League around five years ago.

Should he approach you? Are you going to be okay if he greets you? But somehow, he couldn't help but remember the look in your eyes that one time. Maybe he should just turn his back and leave the place where he stood right now. That would be the best option, but he seems to be taken by your presence.

His eyes bore on your figure, noting every little detail as you laugh. Your smile never changes, it's still the same smile that you used to wear when cheering for him on the stands. You still love to play with your hair, and it always calmed you down somehow. And your laugh still the same, a laugh that could make everyone in the room cheered up.

"Tobio," You called out to him, "Hey, I am here." He was sobbing and curled up in the corner of his room. When you heard he was home, you immediately ran there, knowing he needs someone to accompany him tonight.

Today, Karasuno has lost from Aobajohsai, Oikawa Tooru's school. Your boyfriend practised hard every day to show his senior about how much he has changed. He is not the same tyranny king as he used to be in Kitagawa Daiichi. But still, luck is not on his side today.

You immediately wrapped your arms around his figure. It was tense at first, still new with this feeling. You are his first girlfriend, it surprised everyone when they know someone would want to date him. Kageyama wouldn't lie, he was surprised when you say that you like him back.

Slowly but surely, his figure started to relax at your touch. You pulled his head to your chest, kissing the crown of his head and cradle him on your lap. His arms timidly circled on your neck, clinging on you like a baby.

Both of you stayed like that for a while, no words were spoken, but you knew your gesture was enough to make him understand the love that you were ready to give for him,

"H-hey," His voice was harsh after crying for hours, "Is it okay if you stay for the night?" The gaze that he gave to you was desperate, so the only right thing to do was accept him. He moves your body to his bed, pulling you to his embrace as he becomes the big spoon.

"You are so cute sometimes, Tobio~" You cooed, teasing him to ease the awkwardness from the air.

"I-I am not!" He pouted, but his arms wrapped around you tighter. You snuggled into his neck, feeling the warmth from his skin, "Hey, (Y/n)." He gulped, eyes staring to your messy hair. You hummed, still enjoying how his touch soothe you, "Can you promise me something?"

"Hm? What is it, Tobio?" You looked up at him, widened a little when you realised how close your face was. He was stunned too, especially with how your breath touched his lips, "Tobio?"

"S-Sorry," Blush crept on his cheek as he said it, "Please promise that you will never leave me." His voice sounded serious, it's like he couldn't imagine his life without you already. You blinked, didn't know what to say at first.

Confessing is scary, that's what always lingering in his mind. But he knew you, even if your answer wouldn't satisfy him, you will say it so carefully that he wouldn't mind at all.

"Okay," You smiled, kissing his nose at the process, "I would never leave you, Kageyama Tobio." He closed his eyes as you leaned in, touching your lips to his. It was soft and he feels like he was a winner today, already forget about the event this evening. The kiss was quick, not more than ten seconds, but it feels like forever.

You put your forehead on his, still closing your eyes while your thumb caressing his cheek, "I promise I will never leave," He smiled to hear you repeat the words, "Not until you asked me to,"

That night, he pouted and telling you that you are mean for even thinking that he wants you to be out from his life. But then, he is the one who broke the promise and asked you to leave. Kageyama shook away all of the memories, slapped his cheek before fleeing the scene.

You blinked, feeling like you saw a familiar figure at the corner of your eyes. So you turned to the left, found no one. Maybe it's just your feelings, after all, you shrugged it off and set your gaze back to the man in front of you.

"What is it, (Y/n)?" Miya Osamu could see the confusion that was written in your face, "Do you saw some old friends? Do you want to catch up with them? I could tell-"

"No no no!" You immediately know what he was going to say, "I will take these onigiris, okay? I want to be there for him!"

Kageyama currently walked around the hallway, both hands coated in his pocket. His mind kept coming back to you. It's been years since he's on V.League, he wonders what makes the woman that he used to love watching this one particular match. He let out a bitter snort when the realisation hit him, Used to love, my ass.

His eyes suddenly fall to a familiar figure. Orange fluffy hair appeared in front of him, making him smirk when he knew who it was,

"Not gonna have any bowels issues today, are you?" Kageyama smirked when the man in front of him turned his head. There he stood, one of the best comrades that he ever had. One of the people that brought him here. Not as a tyrant king, but as a great setter.

"Heck no. I am not the kind of guy who gets stomach troubles before games anymore." Hinata retorted, feeling confidence after all this time.

"You'd better not, you runt," Kageyama remembered that he used to yell and hit the wing spiker with so much force. But things change as they grow up. Hinata seems to want to say something to him, but suddenly, Miya Atsumu appeared behind Hinata, putting one of his arms on the wing spiker's shoulder.

"Tobio-Kun, wouldja mind not picking a fight with my wing spiker? Hmm?" Miya's voice was sly, and it always made Kageyama's annoyed every time he heard that voice. One by one, the others piled up in front of their locker rooms, trying to joke and brag about their achievement.

Something has been nagging on the setter's mind. Seeing Hinata with a new setter made him wonder about how powerful the new duo would be. Are they going to be better than the Freak Duo, or maybe on the same level? But they are all grown up now, of course, they would be more powerful.

After joking around and promising to themselves that they will beat each other, Kageyama and the others needed to go to the court. Everyone has been waiting for this match, after all. Once he steps inside the court, he immediately looked around.

The arena brought back some nostalgia in his mind, remembering one special seat that you always seated on. Kageyama thought that you would be standing there, maybe even cheering him on, or at least cheering for his team. But of course, it was just some wild wishful thinking of him.

Kageyama will be the first one to serve. He will do the same serve just like when Japan play against France, which scores him five-point on the game. But Hinata seems to changes since he could receive it with ease.

The ball flies high to the sky, Miya Atsumu was ready to make the announcement that their team wouldn't go on without a fight. He tossed the ball to Hinata, fulfilling the promise that he ever makes when they were in high school.

Hinata spiked the ball hard, telling the whole world that he's coming back home.

Kageyama looked at the scene that unfolded in front of him, a little bit annoyed with how Miya looked so smug after successfully toss the ball to Hinata. As the set goes on, something seems to burn in his heart. The orange-haired man has now become a lot better since the last time they play together.

Miya noticed how the black-haired setter always glared at him every time he tossed the ball to Hinata. It's like Kageyama missed the feeling to tossed for the MSBY wing spiker. After all, that man is the first person who Kageyama comfortable tossing to, the one who could spike his toss, and someone who always patience with his behaviour.

The first set was done, and Kageyama's team lost with five points different. It was much, and his team was surprised by the opponent ability. He sat down on the bench and looked around, scanning the stands once again, in hoping to see the glimpse of you. It's scared him to be honest, just one look at you and his feelings emerged immediately.

He was always longing for your touch, longing for how caring you are towards him. You were always there when he needed you. But it's his decision that particular day to break the relationship that's been going for three years.

It was March 2018. Every student practically searching for their best friend, taking a picture together one last time. Today is graduation day for Kageyama and the others, today is the day he will approach his girlfriend.

You looked so beautiful that day, flowers adorning your hair, given by all of your friends. The whole day, you haven't seen the tsundere boyfriend of yours, making you worried since he didn't answer any of your messages too.

These past few days, Kageyama has been distance. It's like there will be some big news that he will drop for you. But you shrugged it off, believing that maybe your boyfriend just stressed out about college.

"(Y/n)," You turned around when you heard the familiar voice. He looks cool with his graduation attire, creating a smile on your face as you took in the sight in front of you. Your friends could only giggle at how starstruck you are to the Karasuno's setter, "Can I speak to you alone?"

There it is, the announcement that might change your life. You nodded and say goodbye to your friends for now. Both of you walk around the school grounds, he was quite the whole time as you walked side by side. Suddenly, the two of you was now standing in front of the school gymnasium.

"Do you want to pass the ball for me?" His question is weird, he knew you would never turn him down. That and the fact he didn't dare to look in your eyes as he speaks was making your mind running wild. But again, you didn't want to push anything to him. You know he will straight up telling you when he's ready.

You were now passing the ball to him. Practise like this is a date for the two of you. He would sometimes engulf your body in the middle of passing, making the ball bounce to the court as he embraced you lovingly. Though, today he was acting so distance towards you. There is no warm that emitted from him, not even a smile.

"I will joining the V.League," You stopped your movement as you heard the statement. It was his dream for a long time ago, you couldn't help but smile at this. You immediately throw the ball in your hands to god knows where. Running and tackling the setter that you love so much.

"I am so proud of you, Tobio!" His arms immediately wrapped around your waist, securing you so you didn't hit the ground, "Why you didn't tell me sooner? I really thought you are going to break up with me or something since you are so distance!" You chuckled, didn't realise how he tensed up a little when he heard the word 'break up'.

"About that," His voice sounds uncertain as he pushed you from his embrace. Both of you were now sitting on the ground, he put his gaze on the floor, didn't dare to look at you, "I do want to break up with you." It was silence for seconds,

"Hahahahah! Don't joke around like that, Tobio~!" He looked up to see you. There were tears in your eyes, either it's because of how much you have laughed or how you could sense the serious tone as he spoke. You could only hope that it's not the latter.

"I am not joking," That sentence was enough to make you stop laughing,

"W-What-"

"I don't want to be your boyfriend anymore. I want you to leave," His words feel like a punch in the gut. How he repeated those cursed words, how serious he looked as he blurted it out, it's like a nightmare that you really want to wake up from, "I am not going to have time for you."

"But we can work things out, Tobio." There's certainty on every word you said, "I am not going anywhere, you know that." You immediately stood up, trying to process things, "I could go to your practice, we could always be spending time together when you are free, calling when we started to miss each other,"

"Stop it, (Y/n)."

"Oh! We could rent a-"

"I SAID, STOP IT!"

You gasped when Kageyama suddenly stood in front of you, eyes blazing with irritation. His hands gripped your wrist so hard that you know it will leave a trace. You are terrified, this is the first time you ever feel this way towards the setter.

He didn't let you go even when tears were already streaming down your face, "I-It hurts," You muttered, afraid that he will do something more, "K-Kageyama, it h-hurts, please." When he realised what he has done, he immediately let go of his grip.

Kageyama wanted to apologize as he looked at his own hands. But when he saw your face, he just couldn't let out any words from his lips. You are looking at him like he's some kind of monster, a look that he never found from you even when he gets frustrated after losing a match and let go all of his anger towards you.

Your eyes bore into his souls, scared that he will hurt you once again. So you ran, ran away as fast as you can and never looked back. That guy is not your boyfriend, he's not your Tobio, and you never want to meet him ever again. After all, he already told you that he didn't want you anymore.

So what's the point of staying?

Kageyama stood there, dumbfounded. Eyes still trailing at your figure that's going smaller and smaller, until he could no longer see you. He gulped, didn't know at the moment that it might be the last time he ever saw you.

How could he have done this? He promised (Y/n) he would never hurt you. He promised everyone to take care of you. And yet, he stood frozen in the middle of the gymnasium where you were used to spending time together, regret coursing through his body.

But he just stood there, not even moving his feet to chase you.

"Whoa! She is pretty!" Kageyama heard Hoshiumi complimenting someone, "Man, of course someone like Atsumu could get someone like her!" Now, he's interested in someone that will be stuck with Miya Atsumu, the douchebag. He smirked, it could be a good come back when they meet again outside of the court.

"Who is it, Hoshiumi-san?"

"I didn't know you are interested in something outside of volleyball." Ushijima remarked blatantly, "Somehow I am familiar with Miya's girlfriend," He pointed at Miya who's currently talking to someone on the VIP seat, "Is she from Karasuno?" When Kageyama sees the figure, it feels like someone just ripped his heart from its place.

There you were, standing in front of Miya Atsumu with the same attire from before. Your hands delicately patted his forehead with a towel, trying to get away as much sweat as possible. Miya said something in your ear, making you laugh before kissing your cheek with adoration stand out from his eyes. Everyone could see them both right now, and they would agree that the relationship will go to marriage.

The black-haired setter didn't know what to do at this point. He was the one who broke up with you five years ago, but why his heart still aching at the sight of you with someone else? But the man is not just someone else; it's Miya Atsumu, the second-best setter after him.

Both of them was the same. They are a setter from V.League Division 1 team, they have the same burden, they practised hard every day, and yet, he could have one thing that he needed to let go to be here right now.

Back then, letting you go seems like the best decision for him and you. He will never have time for you since he thought being in a professional team means less time outside of the court. He gulped down, still gazing at the two of you. Suddenly, Hinata ran up to you, hugging you in the process. You looked happy to see the wing spiker, patting his shoulders as the three of you laugh.

How he wished that was him.

The only thought that was running in Kageyama's mind was the fact that it could be him who stood in front of you, laughing together with Hinata. That could be him who was now circling one arm on your neck, kissing your forehead as you looked at the man with love adorning your eyes.

You used to look at him like that, you used to cheer on him in every match, you used to laugh from his action. But now you were all his; you were Miya Atsumu lovers.

"Now I know where I had ever seen her," Ushijima spoke out, the first time he saw you was when Shiratorizawa lost from Karasuno. You were tackling the setter and pamper him with kisses, it was gruesome in his eyes, but he couldn't forget how Kageyama looked at that time, loved. So when the ace found the setter's eyes glistening with tears, he knew that at one point, something was going downhill.

The referee blows the whistle, indicating the start of the second set. Kageyama stood up, eyes still focusing on you as you kissed Miya Atsumu with the same lips that once only for him. He shook his head, walking to the court.

Is it what Oikawa always felt when it comes to him or Ushijima? Losing something meaningful in his life to someone that was equal with him? His eyes bore to the opponent's setter who looks calmed and composed after the little break, his orbs filled with happiness and love, something that Kageyama hasn't felt just to be better in volleyball.

What hurts him the most was the fact that you didn't even notice his gaze. You used to have a sixth sense when it comes to him, knowing precisely if he ever in the same room as you. So when you didn't even turn to face him, he knew he had lost you entirely.

He feels like his heart is stumbling, ready to fall by the time the match is over. His gaze always falls to his opponent, the one who has you as a support system. It breaks him all apart, little by little. He really just want to get out from there, away from the thought of two important people in his life, slipped between his fingers.

Kageyama has lost in this battle to someone else. Someone who has the first person who could spike his toss without complains. Someone who has his first love in their embrace. Someone who was the same with him, but so different at the same time.

It was his fault to lose you, and it's not his right to complain why.

Because that time he told you to leave, he needed to remember that you were not his anymore.

#kageyama #kageyama tobio #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama angst #kageyama imagine #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu angst

767 notes · View notes

rebelsandtherest · 3 years

Text

La Mode Parisien

Summary: What if the 1389 Truce of Leulinghem had included a celebratory feast afterward? Downtrodden by decades of war, an embittered and closeted Arthur Kirkland travels to France, where he encounters some liberal new fashions that confuse his perception of one Francis Bonnefoy. Does he want to punch him in the face, or stare at his ass? If Francis keeps being so goddamn French, he’ll end up doing both. Pre-FrUK, enemies to… frenemies? This is a very silly fic.

Written for day three of @historical-hetalia-week

I never write ship fics, but I've had this idea kind of floating around regarding men's medieval fashions for a while, so... here we go. Apologies all around, shipping is not my forte. Written for Day 3 of Historical Hetalia Week 2021

Content Warnings:

Period-typical homophobia

Strong language

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"Only the old, the fat, the prudish and the clergy do not find [the new men’s fashions] exciting. Hence the widespread disapproval among contemporary chroniclers [...] they blame the men for displaying very short skirts and well-packed hose, and they blame the women for being delighted by what they see."

-Ian Mortimer, The Time Traveler's Guide to Medieval England: A Handbook for Visitors to the Fourteenth Century

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June, 1389

Leulinghem, Normandy, Kingdom of France

It was an unseasonably windy June in Normandy that year, and Arthur was grateful for it. If the wind ruined the hairdos of everyone around him, no one would be able to tell that his hair naturally looked this bad. Perhaps horrible hair and thick eyebrows would one day be the fashion, but it was not, he suspected, liable to happen anytime soon, least of all in France.

And they were truly in France, now. Though they stood but miles away from Calais, that fortress would be England's sole remaining property on the continent by that afternoon. The last twenty years of warfare had done a number on Arthur's body, to say nothing of his mind and soul, and he longed for lasting respite. However, the truce his king was about to sign would be temporary. Twenty-seven years' peace is what they'd negotiated, but Arthur new better. They would not last half that long before someone important got shot in the face. Preferably, they'd be French.

Arthur squinted into the sun alongside the rest of the English entourage while they waited for their French hosts to formally receive them.

"Sir Arthur," Richard inclined his head toward the kingdom to speak privately.

"Yes, your Majesty?"

"There are no weapons allowed at any point during today's proceedings," the king said, sounding pained. "I shall also ask that, as a matter of personal honor, you refrain from using any magic, no matter what nonsense Monsieur Bonnefoy has to say to you." Arthur clenched his teeth together.

"Of course, Sire." Damn it. "I would never dream of it." He would, actually, and had been for weeks.

After they were escorted into the massive, carpeted tent, Arthur spent most of the morning waiting around trying to not look bored and using every opportunity to avoid speaking French. Francis Bonnefoy, his bastard French counterpart, finally made his appearance just before the ceremony began. Standing opposite him at the negotiation table, he gave Arthur a smug little smile; they both knew the truce terms favored the French. Arthur scowled back at him, which only made the Frenchman smile wider. Then, he had the balls to wink.

Damn Richard and his damn his 'honor', because if there was one set of hexes that Arthur knew especially well, they were hexes meant for Frenchmen. He clenched his hands tightly behind his back and made himself focus on the two kings as the terms of the truce were read aloud—in French, of course, because god forbid the continentals learn English.

Soon enough, the papers were signed, seals affixed, and copies of the truce were exchanged between the kings' respective parties. See you in twenty seven years, Arthur thought as he glanced up at Francis, who must've felt Arthur's eyes on him for he looked up and they locked eyes. Though I doubt I'll let you live that long.

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

Whoever had thought it would be a good idea to have the aristocracy of enemy kingdoms mingle to celebrate the signing of a temporary truce after two decades of bloodshed was, in Arthur's opinion, the worst kind of idiot. The air was stilted and awkward as the kings expressed their gratitude for the truce, and wished their men to join in their jubilation. The nobles of either kingdom were only able to converse with one another because all of them were privileged enough to have learned French as children, though by and large they split off into distinct English and French groups of conversation, because truces could never heal the divisions that had led kings to war in the first place. Most everyone here was rich enough to have avoided fighting in the war altogether. Arthur, on the other hand, had died in battle more times than he could count, so he went directly for the wine and hovered there with his goblet until he felt a pleasant buzz coming on. He felt the outermost layer of his inhibitions and frustrations relax, and was grateful.

The negotiation table had been cleared away to make room for dancing, and the very same table now held refreshments for the assembled kings and their lords. The musicians struck up some lively tunes, and as the wine slowed, people began to laugh and relax. The English party had no women in attendance except their cook, but the royal French entourage provided more than enough female company to entertain the assembled men with dancing, laughter, and good looks. A few of the Englishmen, Arthur could see, were becoming perhaps a bit too entertained, having spent many long months away from their wives.

"Come join me in a dance," a gorgeous brunette approached Arthur and tugged on his arm. She had a dazzling smile and was both young and fit of feature, with a few tendrils of her hair slipped scandalously out of her wimple.

"No thank you, mademoiselle," Arthur told her, clutching his wine glass like a shield. "Non, je suis désolé, merci." He patted her hand. Her smile faltered, but she merely curtsied and left to find another partner. As the woman retreated, Arthur glanced all around him and hoped to God no one had seen the exchange.

After having emerged from the purgatorial throes of puberty some years ago, Arthur had come to the alarming realization that men's bodies held far more physical interest to him than women's ever would. He prayed penance for this defect daily, but it was a difficult chore to maintain. With every passing year, men's fashions at court became tighter and shorter, and some days it was truly a wonder Arthur did anything at all but pray to God for forgiveness.

Arthur suspected that Francis, who'd reached majority almost a century before him, had made a similar discovery about himself, with the caveat being that he was still immensely attracted to women. This was a fact for which Arthur despised him with a white-hot jealousy. The Frenchman was foppish and extraordinarily generous with his affections towards both sexes, and used his availability towards women to disguise his interest in men. He spoke warmly to any courtiers who approached him, and approached others for himself with a charm unparalleled in Europe.

Arthur hated him for that, too. How was it fair that Francis, that feral gothic rat, had crawled out from below Rome's heel and transformed into God's most charming gift to the green earth? How was it that he emerged from the pig sty one day and found himself kissing the hands of princes the next? Arthur had overcome similar obstacles in a similar time, but all he'd got for his trouble was a beard that didn't fill in properly, a resting scowl that drove away all but his own kings, and the omnipresent anxiety that at any moment, someone might catch him staring at another man's ass.

Fuck, he'd been staring at Francis' ass.

It was, infuriatingly, a very nice ass. The only reason he could tell was because Francis was wearing tights that were so, well, tight, that Arthur could see the creased edge of his braies when he moved. He dared not hazard a guess at what the front of his trousers looked like, but Francis' tunic was cut nearly as high as his belt, and Arthur's imagination happily filled in the details. He scowled at the universe and took a large gulp of wine.

Mustering his courage and clutching his goblet, he marched across the tent and demanded:

"What the hell are you wearing?" Which prompted the object of his attention to pivot, dance-like, to face him, and oh, Christ, the front of the trousers was worse than the back.

"Hmm?" Francis Bonnefoy's expression was one of surprise and innocence. His cheeks were tinged pink by the alcohol, and Arthur hoped he could blame his own blush on the wine. Francis gave a rakish grin.

"Ah, so Angleterre deigns to speak to me at last. What an honor," he gave a sarcastic flourish.

"You look like an idiot," Arthur told him.

"Careful, mon cher," Francis sipped at his wine, "Your King must pay homage to Charles later, I do not think I would be outside my rights to demand the same from you." Arthur's eyebrows came down like thunderclouds.

"You wouldn't even dare ask such a thing,"

"Wouldn't I?" Francis asked, sipping coyly at his wine.

"It would be the last thing you ever did."

"Oh, how tempting," Francis made eyebrows over the edge of his glass. "Four whole hours of armistice, and I find peacetime ever so dull." Arthur continued to glare. Eyes inevitably flickering to the exposed breeches once again, he decided to change the subject.

"Did you forget your tunic at home?"

"Ah, you've noticed," Francis turned and… modeled, and God, it was so much more distracting to see him in motion. "The newest fashion at court. La courtepie," Francis gestured to his top, which Arthur could not possibly call a tunic. It was royal blue and embroidered with fleur de lis and barely long enough to cover his belt. "All the most fashionable young men are wearing them."

"It's short enough to fit a child," Arthur accused, and Francis gave him a deadpanned look.

"Surely, Arthur," he propped up a hand on his hip and turned in such a way that his groin, in all its hosieried glory, was put on full display. "I do not look like a child to you."

"Christ, you're vain," Arthur turned away and drank his wine in order to hide the fact that his face was red once more. Francis shrugged and followed suit.

"Aren't we all?"

"You weren't wearing it before."

"The occasion did not call for it, before."

"You changed dress expressly to flirt with your own nobility?"

"I could flirt with you instead, if you like, but I fear you might stab me in the neck like you did at Crécy."

Arthur choked on air, sputtering.

"Come now, Arthur," Francis leaned in to Arthur's personal space, prompting the shorter—barely shorter—man to lean away, keeping his goblet between him and the Frenchman, "the courtpie is the popular fashion in England too, I saw for myself just a few years ago. Don't pretend you've never seen them just because you can't afford one yourself." He stood back and downed the last of his wine. "Though I shan't blame you if you've never seen one on so fine a specimen. English thighs are not built for it." Arthur saw red.

"You absolute, backwater, pox-mongering—"

"Careful, mon ami," Francis sing-songed, "there are ladies present." the Frenchman paused before giving Arthur a scrutinous look that made him immenselyuncomfortable, "Then again, perhaps feminine favor is not something dear old England is after, non?"

Arthur stared at him, paralized for a moment by the horrible realization that Francis may have deduced his secret just as he had deduced the same of Francis. The shock wore off as quickly as it'd arrived, and then the anger surged forth. He bared his teeth and leaned forward to tell Francis in a low, furious voice,

"There is no world in which I would ever pay homage to you, or anyone like you, no matter how many kings told me to. By the time all is said and done, Aquitaine will be mine, and your knights will pay homage to me." He stalked off in huff, crossing back across the tent to fetch more wine.

Arthur spent the remainder of the evening eating and drinking, stewing the entire time. Francis, of course, continued flirting. To his never-ending despair, Arthur found his own eyes straying to the Frenchman's rear more than once as the evening wore on. I wonder what I would look like in a court piece, he found himself thinking, for Francis was right on that count: He'd never worn one, because there was no money or time to tailor one while at war. He tried to imagine it, but his mind's eye fell short. Not nearly as good as he does, he found himself thinking, and cursed aloud. Richard looked over at him, surprised.

"Is something amiss, Sir Arthur?"

"No, Your Majesty," Arthur said quickly. "It's nothing."

Night closed in around them, and soon both parties were retiring to their respective camps, where they would regroup before their respective journeys home. Arthur donned his cloak with urgency. If he never saw a speck of France for the next twenty seven years, it would be too soon.

While the kingdoms themselves had re-emerged from their indulgences unscathed, most of the humans remained tipsy and sleepy. Therefore, there was no one to notice when Francis went over to Arthur as he reached the tent's entrance and pressed his face in close to Arthur's and said:

"One day, Arthur, no matter how this war turns out, I am going to ask you to pay homage to me, and when I do, you're going to say yes." Arthur narrowed his eyes at him.

"I would rather die," Arthur snapped back, breath stirring the curls of hair around Francis' face.

"Oh," smirked Francis, raising an angled eyebrow with relish, "that can certainly be arranged. Until next century, Angleterre."

Francis stepped away before Arthur could make any reply, so the Englishman stood there in silent indignation while the Frenchman strode out into the night. Just as Francis' broad shoulders disappeared beyond the door of the tent, Arthur realized that the entire man was actually quite beautiful, not just his ass.

God, he hoped he got to kill him a few more times before the war was over.

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

Historical Notes:

1. The Hundred Years War was actually a series of three separate war campaigns—which spanned somewhat more than a hundred years—fought over the same disputed territory. Essentially, the English and their allies and the French and their allies were fighting over which kingdom (England or France) was the rightful ruler of Aquitaine. In 1389, they had just wrapped up the second 'phase' of the Hundred Years War, the Caroline War, and called a truce. At the time, France was grappling with a king who suffered some mental illnesses, and England was next to bankrupt and facing political strife at home. As noted, they negotiated a 27-year armistice. However, true to what Arthur predicted, it would only last half that time, 13 years. Still, it was the longest-lasting peace the kingdoms saw between each other in the entire Hundred Years War.

2. The truce signing took place at the small village of Leulinghem, which is in Normandy, nearby the English fortress at Calais. Although the English had held Normandy for some time, and made some gains during the war, as a part of the truce they forfeited all their holdings in France except for Calais. In return for allowing them to keep Calais, the English king had to pay homage to the French king for the dutchy.

3. Braies are a type of medieval underwear. Until the 14th century, they would have been loose-fitting and usually fallen to the knee. However, the 1300s were a wild and sexualized time for mens' fashions, and over time, as mens' tights got tighter, the braises got shorter and snugger to allow for a better fit.

4. A courtepie or court piece was exactly as it has been described: a fitted tunic, but extremely short for the time, the hem landing a mere inch or two below the belt. Nothing about this sounds particularly scandalous, until you see them paired with the ludicrously revealing tights that men wore with the courtepie. Then, Arthur's blushing suddenly makes sense. Let us just say that the tights of the time very clearly highlighted both the posterior and anterior assets (or lack thereof) of the wearer.

5. Just so we're clear, there was certainly not a celebration after the signing of this truce in real life. That, my friends, is pure fanfiction indulgence.

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ladyanput · 4 years

Text

Seeing Red Ch.4

The morning had been boring as all hell, not that that had surprised Eva. A free day for everyone to scatter and she decided to avoid Bustier and to let Marinette have a fun day exploring Gotham, with friends, of course.

So she had talked herself to going to a cute little cafe and ordering herself a slice of cheesecake and a cup of hot chocolate. She took a seat in a booth and just enjoyed the solitary moment to herself. No idiot teachers, no bratty students, no stress of anything. Just her and this cheesecake that would go straight to her hips.

“What are you doing here all by yourself?"

Eva looked up and met the impossibly blue eyes of Jason Todd. She was so startled at the sight of him that she began coughing as she swallowed a mouthful of hot cocoa wrong. Embarrassment burned her cheeks as she hacked at the sudden pain, doubling over on the table. She soon felt Jason’s large hand settle on her back and begin rubbing it.

"Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, Eva.” Jason winced when he saw her watering eyes and red face. He had been just as surprised to see her in this small cafe, and like an idiot he had just strode up and demanded why she was there like a jackass.

“It’s fine, I’m fine.” She reached out a hand to set it on his shoulder, trying not to notice how broad it was under her hand. She forced a smile as she sat up, using a napkin to wipe her mouth. “I was off in my daydreams, so I guess it was going to be inevitable that something would scare me."

The two shared a smile before Jason motioned to the seat across from her. At Eva’s nod, he took a seat. They stared at each other for a while, before Jason cleared his throat, suddenly feeling rather embarrassed.

"So.. Damian is rather lovestruck, I’d say. It’s a bit scary, he’s always been this hardass, no nonsense kind of guy, then he meets this French girl and he’s all doe eyed and smiled more. He’s not supposed to smile.” Jason shook his head, quickly ordering himself a coffee when the waitress came over.

“I was a bit hesitant about Marinette dating him.” Eva admitted as she poked at her cheesecake with her, keeping her gaze lowered. “I mean, they’ve barely known each other for a week and suddenly they’re dating? Pardon me if I’m skeptical.”

Jason opened his mouth to agree, but his mind quickly flashed to the past couple of nights. It wasn’t dating exactly, but it was a fair bit… Hypocritical of himself to agree.

"If Damian hurts her, how about I break both of his legs?” He reached out and set his hand over hers, only to feel his heart begin to race when she turned her hand to grasp his.

“And I’ll break both of his arms, and we can toss his body in the river."

The two shared a smile, and before they both knew it, they were walking around Gotham, trading stories and laughing, before they eventually arrived in front of the hotel, Eva with a hesitance to her body language.

“What’s wrong?” Jason began to reach out, but stopped himself and tucked his hands into his pockets.

“Nothing, I just.. I like this job, I really do, it’s just.. I don’t like Caline, or the kids, except Marinette of course, some of them aren’t so bad, butI think I’m going to go grey soon!” Eva ran her fingers through her hair, seeming a bit rattled at the feeling of the words bursting from her lips. “I want to kind of quit, but.. I’m only there for a year, and I love France, but the circumstances are shit.”

“I thought I sensed some tension on your shoulders. Dick told me all about that class, especially that Rossi chick. Trust me, liars like her don’t last very long, eventually her lies catch up to her. And surely there’s something else keeping you sane, right? Maybe a boyfriend…?”

Jason didn’t know why he was fishing. It was a fling, nothing important, but the thought of Eva having a boyfriend.. It didn’t make him feel very good.

“…” Those purple eyes were suddenly downcast, a frown settling on those impossibly soft lips. “No.. There hasn’t been anyone for a long time. I mean, there’s a guy in Gotham that I met that I kind of want to get to know more, but we kind of agreed to not get into that kind of relationship. Besides, he and I have only known each other for a few days, it’d be a bit weird to suddenly jump into a romantic relationship like that, right?”

He didn’t know exactly how to answer that. Jason.. He never really had a good deal with ladies, he liked both guys and girls, but love.. It wasn’t something he wanted to pursue, because well, he was a broken man. A man with a fucked up past that he didn’t want to burden on anyone else.

“Anyways, I should get inside, it was a pretty long day.” She gave him a small smile, and a playful wink. “I’ll need as much beauty rest as I can get with these kids.”

As he watched her walk away, a small smile played on his lips as his eyes drifted to the sway of those hips, a sway that showed that she meant business. How could it be that anyone could have such a perfect ass?

Eva entered the hotel, spotting Marinette surrounded by a few of her friends. With a sudden spring in her step, Eva began to make her way over to the girl, though her steps faltered upon the sight of the desk clerk motioning her over.

“Ma’am, I do hope you had a good day today. Er.. We found that we charged your card with some unnecessary purchases during your night at the bar, and to try and fix that hiccup, we decided to give you one of the better rooms.” The clerk blurted out with incredible speed, holding out a key card, her bright and cheerful smile not once cracking. “I do hope that you will forgive us for this inconvenience and enjoy the rest of your stay.”

“Oh.. Well, thank you.” Eva glanced between the clerk and the key card. She had just checked her bank account an hour ago, and there had been no other charges than that bottle of wine.. “Well, I guess I’ll get my stuff.”

“Oh, we already had the staff move it for you, so that you can simply go and have a relaxing night. And any room service for the rest of your stay is on us!” The clerk put in quickly, before giving a soft giggle. “Have a good evening, Miss Bourbon.”

Eva’s brows drew together as she stared down at the key card in her hand. She slowly made her way over to where Marinette stood, waiting for the elevator to arrive.

"What’s that?” Nino blinked in surprise at the sight of the shiny new key card.

“I.. Guess I got a new room..” Eva murmured, before turning her gaze to Marinette. “I also got a free dinner. Wanna join me for a bit?”

The smile she received in return made the whole thing seem so much more tolerable.

…

“So.. Has Damian called you?” Eva grinned at the sight of the blush rising in Marinette’s cheeks. “My goodness, sugar cookie, I think you’ve got it worse than when you had your crush on Adrien.”

“I do not! I mean, I can actually talk to Damian without making a complete fool of myself..” Marinette took a hold of one of her pigtails, tugging on it as her blush only grew worse. “And.. I think he actually cared about me. Like, really cares.”

“Ugh, young love, it’s too sweet, I’m going to get sick.” Eva faked a retching noise, only to have a pillow thrown at her face.

“Eva, I’m serious! I think that maybe I can finally have something.. Something real.” Mari murmured as she hugged one of the other pillows to her chest, an almost dreamy look crossing her face. “I mean.. It could be something amazing.”

Babe, you and I are something real..

Eva tensed as she felt the ice spread in her stomach, David’s face flashing in her mind, his smug grin as he grabbed the front of her shirt and pulled her in for a kiss…

A knock at the door tore Eva from those thoughts, causing her to rush over, avoiding meeting Marinette’s curious eyes.

“Well.. If you do want to pursue this relationship.. Please be careful, Marinette. I know that you think this guy is great, but,” Her grip tightened so hard on the doorknob that her knuckles turned white. “, First impressions can be deceiving.”

They were served in an overly fancy fashion, their meals kept under silver domes, the room service worker pouring both ladies each a glass of sparkling pomegranate juice, before they were left sitting at the small table in silence.

“How.. Did you get this room again?” Marinette posed her pasta dish absentmindedly with her form, while Eva shrugged in response. “You should have seen the look on Miss Bustier’s face when she found out you got a better room. Lila is spreading around a rumour that you slept with a staff member to get special treatment.”

“You know what, let’s not worry about those two anymore. I’m tired of Lila and you guys are graduating this year, in a few months, so I’m not going to give her the time of day anymore. Her lies won’t work out there in the real world, because unlike Alya, people actually check their fucking facts.” Eva muttered as she sipped the juice, trying to ignore the growing anger in her chest. Those people weren’t worth it. “Now, about Damian Wayne.. Listen, Marinette, you’ve fallen for a pretty rich boy before, just take this slower, please. You claimed that you fell in love with Adrien the very day you met him, and I’m sorry, but love just doesn’t work like that. Yeah, you can feel attraction, but love is so much more.”

Marinette was quiet as she finally took a bit of her food, refusing to meet Eva’s invasive gaze. She seemed to be almost tearing up as she swallowed and finally spoke.

“I know, Eva, but.. I don’t think it’s wrong to believe in love. People fall in love every day, and I feel like Damian is going to be better than Adrien. He is actually acting like an adult, he seems to actually be.. Well, you know, he actually cares and is aware of reality.”

Eva clicked her tongue , but nodded. Adrien was a bit of an.. An airhead, in Eva’s eyes. He never seemed to fully grasp what was going on, or how life actually worked. Marinette had gone through far too much thanks to her crush on that boy.

“Sugar cookie, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like I was demeaning.” Eva sighed and stood, moving over and pulling the girl into a tight hug. “I just care, you know? You’re the only family I have.”

“You’re lucky to have a little sister like me.” Marinette teased as she hugged her back, smiling to herself as she felt the warmth radiating off of her. “But I do appreciate the advice. I was a complete mess with Adrien.”

“We’re all a mess with our first crush.” Eva kissed the top of her head. “Now finish your food before it gets cold.”

…

Eva sighed to herself as she stared at herself in the mirror. She touched the corners of her eyes, glaring at the dark shadows under her eyes. Her body jolted when she heard a knock at the window, slowly making her way over and cautiously opened the curtains. At the sight of Red Hood dangling outside her window caused her to grin.

“Never think of entering through my door?” She teased as she let him inside, only to let out a cry of surprise as he scooped her up in his embrace, giving his shoulder a playful smack. “You’re covered in snow, asshole, you’re freezing!”

“You were on my mind all day. You and this sexy ass of yours.” Red Hood growled softly as he gave her ass a sharp squeeze through her pyjama pants. “And that sharp tone of yours.”

“You insatiable pervert, I must be really turning you into a sex fiend, huh?” Eva taunted, giving her hips a playful wriggle, her heart beginning to pound in her chest.

“Only for you, you little vixen. It’s illegal to be as sexy as you are.” Red Hood gave her ass a smack then, causing her to moan.

“Hmm, then are you taking me into the coppers, Red Hood? Finally gonna cuff me and put me behind bars?” She giggled as she was thrown onto the bed, his hands sliding along her body as he pinned her underneath him.

“I suppose you. Be careful what you say, anything you say can and will be held against you, my vixen..” He whispered as he began to unbutton her top, his gloved hand sliding in to grasp one of her breasts and squeezing it. “Fuck..”

“Red Hood..” Eva panted out, arching her back as she felt the cold material of the gloves on her heated skin. “Red Hood, my Red Hood..”

“Mmm, naughty girl. Maybe I should teach you a lesson before taking you in..” He growled, reaching over to the lamp to switch it off.

A knock at her door caused them both to freeze.

“Miss Bourbon? Are you there?” Adrien’s muffled voice could be heard, causing Eva to curse under her breath.

“Ignore him..” Red Hood hissed, once again reaching for the lamp once again, only to let out a frustrated growl when Adrien knocked once again. “I’m going to kick that kid’s ass.”

“You shush, Casanova, he must be having quite the bit of trouble if he’s coming to me and not Caline.” Eva rolled out from under Red Hood and grumbled as she buttoned up her shirt, then pulled on a robe. “But don’t worry, if you ever come to Paris, I’ll point out a lazy cat themed superhero whose ass you can destroy.”

Jason watched as Eva fixed her appearance; smoothing down her messy hair, adjusting the robe to hide her lack of a bra, though he noticed her skin was still rather rosy. It was funny, hearing her speak so.. So brashly, while she always appeared like those high class ladies he would see at those weird events he had gone to with Bruce before.. Before th Joker had killed him.

“Well, if the kid’s in trouble, I know you can help him, you would obviously go through gunfire for that girl, so I guess you’d do that for anyone.” Red Hood teased.

“No..” Alya and Lila’s faces flashed in her mind and for a moment, Eva felt shame. “Not anyone.”

As Eva set a hand on the doorknob, she felt Red Hood’s arms wrap around her waist, hugging her tightly.

“Tomorrow.. I’m going to take you on a proper date, okay? Well, as proper of a date as a vigilante like myself can do. No secret apartment rendezvous, no drinking beer on a roof, just something nice, okay?” He whispered, and Eva found her cheeks began to burn.

“That sounds great.. Um.. H- have a good night, Red.” She whispered back, leaning into his embrace. When he finally let go and left, the room felt so cold, so empty. She felt so empty.

“Oh, Miss Bourbon! Sorry if I woke you, I was just hoping we could talk.” Adrien blurted out as soon as the woman opened the door. At her skeptical look, he pressed his hands together in a pleading gesture. “Please! I was wrong, wrong about Lila and I want to make it up to Marinette. You’re the only one who’s close to her now, so you’ll know what to do.”

“Fine.” Eva pulled on her robe tighter, then propped open the door and let him inside. At his questioning look, she shrugged. “In case Lila happens upon the room and tries anything, the door is wide open, I have nothing to hide. Besides, I’m tired, Adrien, I was about to turn in for the night.”

‘Oh.. I’m sorry… Adrien murmured as he entered the room, taking a look around, a bit surprised at how extravagant everything was, it even had its own mini bar. “The hotel was really generous to give you this.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t really need it, though a room without Bustier is a dream come true.”

Adrien looked as if he were about the comment, but wisely kept his mouth shut. He turned his gaze to the open window and squinted ever so slightly at the sight of the faint foot impressions on the sill. Had someone broken in? Or.. Had Ladybug been here? His green eyes settled on Eva, who had turned the Keurig on, his heart beginning to pound. She had to be the key to Ladybug, to his lady, to his rightful happily ever after.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” The T.A. walked over with two steaming mugs. She handed once to Adrien. “Hot chocolate. I remember one time you mentioned to Nino that you can’t drink coffee because it would stain your teeth.”

“Um.. Thank you, Miss Bourbon.” Adrien waited for her to say a cheerful ‘oh please, call me Eva!’, but it never came. She merely sat down, taking a long sip of her black coffee. His eyes trained on the array of dark bruises on her neck and collarbone, hiding a smirk as he took a sip of his hot chocolate. She certainly must be easy if she was already with someone here in Gotham, she must be encouraging Ladybug to follow her behaviour with Damian too. Adrien made a mental note that once he finally convinced Ladybug to date him, he’d get her as far away from Evangeline Bourbon as possible, maybe get the T.A. sent back to Canada. He couldn’t have his future wife becoming so wanton and loose.

“I just want to know what I did wrong, Miss Bourbon. I tried so hard to try and get everyone to get along, I didn’t bully anyone, I never said anything hurtful to Marinette, did I?” Adrien met her gaze, met those eyes that sent chills down his spine.

Eva closed her eyes briefly as she prayed to every god and goddess up in the heavens to give her patience.

“That’s the problem, Adrien, since you tried to get everyone to get along, that you merely put a band-aid over a chainsaw wound. And, Marinette felt like you were ignoring her feelings, making Lila a priority.” Eva clicked her tongue softly.

“B-but what if Lila gets akumatized if we expose her?! If Marinette just put the lies aside and got along with her, we’d all be happy again!” Adrien burst out.

“So you say that Marinette should just roll over and take it, because it inconveniences you? Adrien, Lila has been akumatized over fifteen times, and those are just the ones we know of. She’s always going to get akumatized, Adrien, there is really no way without it. But imagine how much it’s going to hurt when this eventually gets out.” She trailed a fingertip around the rim of her mug. “Think really hard about all of this.”

Adrien was quiet for a long time, his grip tightening slightly on his mug.

“I’m sorry.. I guess.. M-my mother left a few years ago, she always told me that you should work hard to keep the light in the world, since it can be so cruel.” He whispered, bowing his head.

Eva flinched as a memory flashed across her mind; her mother getting in her car and driving off, never to return, leaving her all alone with her pathetic father. Pity filled her chest as she remembered how cold Gabriel Agreste was to his son. To lose a mother, to have an absentee father, in a sense.. It definitely causes one to be vulnerable. And Adrien certainly was a sheltered boy, so I guess it made a bit of sense..

“Listen, if you really want to get on good terms with Marinette again, you’ll need to apologize. Maybe do something nice for her to show you actually mean it and aren’t putting out empty air.”

Adrien grinned, Eva missing the almost mad glint in his eyes.

“Yes, of course! I know exactly what to do!”

Taglist: @the-navistar-carol @chocolate1721 @emo-elaine13 @mochinek0 @drarryismylife101 @toodaloo-kangaroo @moonlightstar64 @imtryingsstuff @shamefullove

#seeing red #Evangeline Bourbon #maribat #miraculous ladybug

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strangeinternetwasteland · 3 years

Text

Miss me- Fem! Reader 18+

This takes place AFTER HIGH SCHOOL, when he is already in Poland

A/N: I got lost in this one....

Warnings: Unprotected Sex, cum, cum swallowing, deep throating, riding

Word Count: 2.2 k

It really had been too long since the last time you saw him. You missed him. You understood that volleyball took precedence over everything. He didn’t work as hard as he did to not get where he was today. Although the two of you had met in France while he was traveling, it didn’t seem like you two would be more than acquaintances. Your friend had dragged you to see the world famous volleyball players from Japan, not something you normally would enjoy, but you’d been so bored and tired of all the ‘normal things’ you’d done before, you thought it wouldn’t hurt.

You entered and found your seats, thanks to your friend’s dad, your seats were close. As you watched the teams warm up, you noticed almost all of them were tall. Taller than you by a lot, as you searched the different players your eyes landed on Ushijima Wakatoshi. He had dark, almost olive brown hair, and eyes to match. You weren’t sure why, but you definitely felt something about him. When you questioned your friend who he was, all that was told to you was, that he was kind of awkward. Though to you, it wasn’t that he was awkward, it was that he was so sure of him. He didn’t doubt anything he did.

Your friend gushed about each and every player as they announced them. Quite honestly it was as if they were an encyclopedia of volleyball players. How could you blame them though, they were all very easy on the eyes. So as they were announced one by one, you felt the electric excitement of the crowd. One built up right after another. When they announced Ushijima Wakatoshi over the PA system you stared in wonderment.

The game wasn’t for anything more than fun and for everyone to show the world their skills. You didn’t know a game, even if it was just for fun, could be so intense. The skills, and speed needed to set up and spike the ball were amazing. After the best out of three sets, the teams shook hands. They headed into their respective locker rooms to clean up. The teams were due to come out after cleaning up to meet fans. You didn’t want to waste this opportunity to at least say hi or see him up close. Your friend waited in another to see someone who was called “King of the Court”. You saw a few fans in line with you, mostly younger kids. You watched as he interacted with them, mostly awkward but with good intentions.

As your turn approached, your stomach did flip flops and you were feeling nervous. When it was your turn, you managed to smile. You probably made it more awkward than it needed to be.

“Good day sir, my name is Y/N.” You said to him as you shook hands. He didn’t really say anything to you but instead he stared at you. “I just wanted to tell you that I really don’t know much about volleyball, but after watching you today, I can’t wait to learn more. I can see you’re an amazing player, and want to thank you for all your hard work. It probably helps that you’re really cute too.” You babbled on not knowing what else to say. “I wish you luck in the future, I know you will go places with all of your talent. Goodbye”. You just went on.

He blinked a few times confused as to what you told him, you shook his hand again and left. You waited outside for your friend who was taking quite a long time, but it was expected of her. You texted her to let her know you were outside, so she knew you were no longer in the building. You decided that you’d sit on the brick wall to wait.

“Y/N, wasn’t it?” You heard a male voice approach from behind you. You turn to look. Whatever face you’d given him made him smile a little.

“I am sorry for interrupting you, my name is Ushijima Wakatoshi.” He bowed to you.

“Yes, I know who you are. How can I help you?” You responded to him. He stood up and his face turned bright red, and looked away from you.

“Would you do me the honor of going out to dinner with me? I really don’t know anything about France, or French food. So please, help me find a place to eat tonight, it’ll be my treat.” He offered you.

“Of course, I’d love to show you some classic French cuisine,

Let’s meet back here in 2 hours.” You replied. He nodded in agreement as your friend came to you. A smile was shared but nothing more than that was said. The night was amazing, you enjoyed his company, as he told you more about Volleyball. The two of you exchanged numbers and emails and promised to keep in touch.

After a few weeks, you had given up any hope to hear from him, and went about your life. One enjoyable evening together didn’t mean you were important to him. He eventually did contact you, by texting, which was out of his comfort zone. Soon, texting led to phone calls, and phone calls to FaceTime. The countless minutes you spent together talking meant a lot. Eventually, the reality that you two were never going to be together or actually physically touch crashed down on you.

That was until Ushijima came to visit, and on a whim asked you to join him in Poland. It was dumb, and stupid you knew, but even if it all ended up being terrible, you didn’t want to miss this opportunity. So after living together for six months, he finally and officially asked you to be his girlfriend. You happily said yes, and honestly nothing really changed, except you now started sharing a bed.

Here you were, a year later, and missing him. He did message you today to let you know that he’d be home for dinner. You paced the room, realizing it was close to dinner time, but your appetite wasn’t for eating food. You rummaged through your lingerie drawer for something that you hadn’t worn for Ushijima yet. Your eyes fell on a lacy black baby doll top with a matching thong. You spritzed some perfume on your wrist, and neck. You hear the door open, and Ushijima puts his keys in the bowl on the table near the door. You did a quick coat of mascara and laid down on the bed on top of the covers.

“Hey, Y/N, is everything okay. I don’t smell or see anything set aside for dinner.” Ushijima said, walking into the room. He noticed you laying on the bed in lingerie.

“I thought tonight, we’d start with dessert first.” You said as you got off the bed and walked over to him. You pressed a kiss to his lips. You take his hand and bring him to the edge of the bed and force him to sit down.

“Good. Ushi, I’ve missed you. I can tell you missed me too, or at least you like what you see.” You tell him as you grab hold of him over his shorts. You stand between his legs and kiss him passionately letting your tongues roll over one another. Ushijima brings you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. After a few moments, you break the kiss.

“Sorry, sweetheart. I need you to remove this.” You tell him as you slipped his shirt over his head. Your gaze over his tempting body. There wasn’t a single part of him you didn’t enjoy looking at. You kiss his neck slowly moving down his chest, and along his happy trail, where you’re met with more cloth.

“I need these, and your underwear to be gone too.” You demanded him. He happily obliged to this demand. His cock was standing at attention for you. You knelt down and slowly placed his hardened length in your mouth. He obviously had showered before coming home. The smell of his body wash was like an aphrodisiac to you.

Slowly still, you kept your mouth on him. He jerked his head back in ecstasy. You heard a low moan in his throat. You worked up and down on him making sure to use your tongue.

“Fuck! What are you doing?” He hissed at you. You smiled at his words. You knew he couldn’t control himself when it came to giving head. You looked at him with wide innocent eyes while going down on his shaft. This drove him insane. He grabbed a fistful of hair and bucked his hips up. You felt your self gag on him.

“I am sorry baby, you know what that look does to me.” He said in between grunts. You happily took whatever he gave you. As he continued working himself all the way to the back of your throat, tears streamed from your face. You felt him twitching in your throat, a tell tale sign that he was ready to release himself.

“I. am. so. proud. Able. to. take. all. this. into. your. throat.” He stuttered out as he clenched his teeth exploded deep inside you and painted your throat white. There it was. His release. You were more than happy to take, but this was too quick, especially for him.

“You’re too good for me.” He told you as he collapsed backwards on the bed. You weren’t done with him. You wanted release too. You let him rest a few moments before climbing on top of him. You put some lipstick on before returning his naked form. You drew an imaginary line from his lips to his hip with a fingernail, making goosebumps appear on his perfect skin.

“You know, I need to be taken care of too.” You purred as you placed little kisses all over him, leaving lipstick marks all over his body. He closed his eyes in relaxation enjoying the feather touches of you.

“I know, baby. I am sorry.” He said to you, pulling you close to him. He played with your hair as he took another moment to rest. You sat up and lined up yourself with his half hardened cock. You started grinding against him in hopes of getting him harder. He popped one eye open when you started moving against him.

“You’re really impatient aren’t you?” He asked you with a smug smile.

“Yeah, I’ve missed you can’t you tell?” You retorted. He snaked an arm around your hips and forced you to stay still. With the other hand he grabbed your ass.

“You know, I normally would have you remove your lingerie by now.” He remarked to you bucking his hips up pressing himself harder into you. With a quick squeeze of your cheek, he pulled his hand back and placed a perfect smack to your ass, leaving it stinging.

“Ouch!” You feigned false pain and small pout. Ushijima let go of your hips and lifted you up. He lined himself up with your entrance and forced your hips down on him all at once.

“Mmmmm. God you’re so big.” You moaned in pleasure. This was the only thing you wanted from him.

“You feel so good deep inside me.” You told him, as you grew wetter. The coil in your stomach was so tight, you would’ve done anything to release it right now. Ushijima picked up the pace as he thrusted deeper and harder into you. You couldn’t stop yourself from digging your fingernails into him.

“Do you like feeling all of my hard cock in you, kitten?” He asked you. The answer wasn’t needed as a loud moan escaped your throat. There were two things in life that you wanted from Ushijima if it wasn’t him being deep in your cunt, it was him filling your throat with himself. You felt Ushijima shift slightly, angling himself slightly deeper in you, forcing his balls to hit your opening. A few more strokes like this and you were ready to release.

“USHI!” His name filled the room as you felt yourself release on him. He rode through your orgasm, and kept his pace.

“You can stop, I already came.” You told him breathlessly

“I am in too deep to not finish.” He told you as he emptied himself in your womb. The thick ropes coating your insides. You collapse down on top of him. He played with your hair while your breathing evened out. He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“You should miss me more often.” He told you, as he placed a kiss on your lips, and got up to clean you up.

“Now that we had our dessert, what shall we have for dinner?” You asked him with a flirty look as you got dressed.

“Well, after that stellar performance, let me take you out.” Ushijima told you with a wink. You knew that you would definitely ‘miss’ him more often

#wakatoshi x y/n #haikyuu!!#sexy smut #dirty things #wakatoshi ushijima #wakatoshi x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #lorelie.nsfw

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stereksecretsanta · 3 years

Text

Merry Christmas, greenleaf1316!

For @greenleaf1316. I hope you like it!!!!! I tried to go for fluff but it got a teensy bit angsty at the end :D

Read On AO3

*****

Hiding In Plain Sight

‘Shit.’ Stiles sat up abruptly and waved his hands frantically in Derek’s face. ‘Put your clothes back on.’

‘Huh?’ Derek frowned and under normal circumstances, Stiles would have been completely smitten with that little wrinkle between the Murder Brows ™ but he knew the sound of that car and he also knew that if Lydia caught them in flagrante delicto, he would never hear the end of it.

‘I mean it.’ He scrambled off the bed and peered out his window. ‘Fuck, she’s almost at the front door.’

‘Lydia?’ Derek, bless his heart, was actually up and fishing around for his henley, grabbing it off the floor and yanking it over his head. ‘Why are you worried?’

‘Because…well.’ Stiles wrung his hands. ‘Okay, so it’s literally only been a couple of months since we broke up and when we did break up, do you know what she said?’

‘That you were hung up on me?’ Derek grinned, all teeth. He had heard this story, in fact it was one of the reasons he’d finally made a move.

‘And do you know what I replied?’ Stiles narrowed his eyes at him.

‘That she was crazy and that you were in no way interested?’ Derek was smirking, amusement in every line of his face. It was a good look on him and Stiles was torn between wanting to wrestle him to the bed and carry on with what they’d started and shove him in the closet. That mental image made him snicker before the doorbell rang and he grabbed Derek and hustled him towards the window.

‘Stiles!’ Derek protested, but he let himself be steered. ‘You know you’re going to have to tell her eventually.’

‘Ha!’ Stiles wrinkled his nose at him. ‘I’ll tell Lydia that she was right when hell freezes over. She thinks she knows me so well.’

‘She does.’ Derek pointed out and Stiles gasped in betrayal and used both hands to bundle him outside.

‘Give it twenty minutes and then come back in.’ he ordered and left Derek muttering about not even having a chance to put his shoes on before he retreated onto the roof and out of sight. His head popped back in a moment later. ‘It’s all iced over up here and I’m freezing my ass off!’

‘You’ll live!’ Stiles slammed the window shut, barely missing Derek’s fingers, and hurtled out his bedroom and down the stairs, stopping briefly to untangle himself from his own shirt that he was attempting to put on upside down, and then skidded along the wooden floor of the hall until he slammed into the front door.

‘Dammit.’ he muttered, wincing as he pulled it open and found Lydia looking at him with a very smug expression.

‘I win.’ she announced and Stiles glared at her.

‘You absolutely do not.’ he hissed and she arched an eyebrow at him. Neither of them backed down until there was a sound like a cat being strangled from the roof and Lydia’s eyebrow climbed to Everestian heights.

‘No?’ She smiled sweetly but Stiles was wise to her cunning ways. Any show of weakness would result in his imminent destruction.

‘No.’ He folded his arms and then realised that his fly was undone. He turned around and jerked it up, squeaking when he nearly got his dick caught. He could hear snickering behind him and wheeled back around to find Lydia’s eyes sparkling with mirth.

‘It’s hard to do up your pants when you still have a hard on.’ she pointed out and he went red.

‘I was jerking off.’ he protested and that was of course the time when Derek’s usual grace decided to desert him and he fell off the roof, making a very un-wolflike noise as he crashed into the bushes that flanked the front of the house. He sat up, blinking blearily and shaking his head like a wet puppy.

‘Hmmmm.’ Lydia shoved Stiles aside and swanned into the house past him. ‘So I see.’

‘It’s a bit of a situation.’ Stiles was slumped so low in his seat that his ass was hanging off the chair. On the other side, the Sheriff heaved a sigh.

‘I don’t get why you don’t just tell them.’ he said and next to him, Derek made an I told you so face.

‘Shut up.’ Stiles gave him a look that he hoped was clear in it’s dissent to that particular idea. Derek snorted and went back to eating Stiles’ popcorn that he’d abandoned when Erica and Boyd had walked into the cinema.

‘Son.’ The Sheriff sounded like he’d rather be chasing down a multitude of bad guys than talking Stiles down from his self-imposed ledge. ‘You’re all adults. I’m sure nobody is going to have a problem with that fact that you and Derek finally pulled your heads out of your asses and got together.’

‘It’s not as simple as you make it out to be.’ Stiles grumbled. ‘I mean they all made such a big deal about the fact that me and Lydia had finally gotten together.’

‘You mean Scott made such a big deal about you and Lydia getting together.’ The Sheriff chuckled and Stiles wanted to strangle him. ‘Look, Scott’s just got to put on his big boy pants and realise that just because he still has a stick up his ass about Derek coming back an alpha and taking back his pack, it’s no reason for you not to be happy.’

‘Fuck.’ Stiles’ entire face creased up. ‘I hate it when you’re reasonable.’

‘It’s a gift.’ His father sounded unbelievably fond. ‘No go back to watching your movie and make out with your boyfriend and stop trying to convince me to call in a bomb scare to the movie house.’

‘Thanks for nothing.’ Stiles pulled a face when he got hung up on, his father still chortling and then screeched like a small child when he found two pairs of glowing golden eyes looking at him from the row of seats in front.

‘You know we can hear you.’ Boyd said. His normally taciturn expression was bordering on gleeful and Stiles decided that made him look more evil than all the villains the pack had faced altogether, and that included Deucalion’s multiple iterations.

‘And smell you.’ Erica reached over and snagged a handful of popcorn. ‘Why are you two hiding back here and why is Stiles trying to cause a terrorist incident.’

Stiles gaped at them both and then looked at Derek accusingly.

‘You told them?’ He batted at Derek’s arm and his boyfriend fended him off easily, still managing to cram another mouthful in.

‘He didn’t need to.’ Boyd rested his chin on his arm. ‘We could smell it all over you the first time you fucked.’

‘’You’re just lucky that Scott is the ultimate failwolf and can’t use his nose for shit.’ Erica grinned, her fangs just showing. ‘Besides, it’s not like we have a problem with it. We won the pool.’

‘Cora’s still pissed about that.’ Derek smirked and Stiles felt he had no choice but to hit him.

Stiles stretched luxuriously and turned to lean on one elbow, admitting Derek’s sleeping face. Even the fact that his wolf was on his back, mouth open and snoring like a band of happy lumberjacks let loose at a pine forest, couldn’t dim his ardour and he contemplated dipping under the covers and blowing him back to readiness.

Derek’s breathing hitched and he turned over onto his stomach, mumbling something about rabbis as he buried his face in the pillow and Stiles sniggered into his own pillow and then decided he needed something to drink. Sex with Derek was always athletic and enthusiastic and involved a hell of a lot of licking so feeling dehydrated was nothing new.

He sat up, using his toes to grab his discarded boxers and got up. He was still hitching them up when he cracked the door open and peered into the corridor. The new Hale house was a long white wood-cladded affair near the lake with Derek’s bedroom at the end of the corridor. Between him and the stairs was Peter’s room and Cora’s room, both of which were currently occupied. Thankfully, industrial strength soundproofing had been installed so he and Derek could be as loud as they wanted without anyone catching on. Boyd and Erica had been sworn to secrecy, as had Cora. She hadn’t even been allowed to tell Isaac, who she skyped daily.

He stumbled down the corridor, making his way downstairs and into the kitchen. It was all gleaming surfaces and had two enormous fridge freezers at the end. Stiles opened one, taking out a bottle of gatorade and cracking it. He downed half noisily and was just about to get started on the other half when the lights went on and he found himself face to face with a half naked Isaac.

‘Dude!’ He blinked in surprise. ‘Why aren’t you in France?’

‘Um…’ Isaac looked like a deer in the headlights. He had a series of huge bruises dotted all the way down his chest and it took all of a minute to put two and two together because clearly Cora and Her brother shared a marking kink.

‘Oh my God!’ Stiles hissed in excitement. ‘You two?’

‘Well, yeah.’ Isaac gave him a shy smile, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. ‘And I’m assuming that Derek did that.’ He gave Stiles’ neck a pointed look.

‘It’s new.’ Stiles opened the fridge again and grabbed a second bottle, chucking it over to him. ‘So are you back for good?’

‘I think so.’ Isaac’s eyes flitted towards the ceiling. ‘I’d like to be. I just got in this evening and things kind of got out of hand but this already feels more like home than any other place I’ve been.’

‘I’m glad.’ Stiles beamed at him. ‘And I know Derek will be really pleased to have you back.’

They drank the rest of their gatorade in silence, both of them catching each other’s eye and laughing.

‘This has got to be one of the most awkward things ever.’ Stiles grinned. ‘But if you’re back then what happened Chris?’ He stopped when that very person stumbled into the kitchen. He was also in nothing but boxers, his greying hair sticking up in every direction possible. He squinted at Stiles and Isaac and then looked sheepish as hell, especially when Stiles clocked the massive bite mark on the slope of his shoulder.

‘Huh.’ He nodded at Chris’ mark. ‘Guess it runs in the family.’

Derek woke with a start. He shot up, fangs and claws out and eyes flashing and then settled when he saw who it was that had interrupted his sleep.

‘Jesus, Kira.’ He rubbed his eyes. ‘What the hell?’

‘Just visiting.’ Kira had her wicked smile on. Since she’d joined her sisters in the desert, her propensity for mischief in keeping with her kitsune nature had become even more pronounced. ‘I wanted to say hi.’ She was balanced on her toes on the iron foot rail of his bed, her katana on her back and her black hair floating around her face, eyes burning orange.

‘Did you drive?’ Derek asked, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

‘No, I flew.’ Kira floated up into the air and landed soundlessly. ‘Isn’t it cool?’

‘Very.’ Derek couldn’t help smiling at her. ‘What time is it?’

‘Around three.’ Kira tilted her head, frowning at the bed he’d just vacated. ‘What are those?’

Derek looked behind him and felt his face heat up. He grabbed the black lace panties and shoved them under the pillow.

‘Nothing.’ he replied but Kira’s smile was now bordering on demonic.

‘You’re getting laid?’ she squealed in excitement. ‘Finally! Who’s the lucky girl?’

‘Oh...er..it’s…’ Derek floundered, not quite sure how to lay things out in a way that she wouldn’t be able to pick up on him lying. ‘It’s not so much a girl as it is a guy.’

Kira’s shriek of delight was enough to have him wincing at the assault on his eardrums.

‘Is it Stiles?’ She practically had heart eyes. ‘Oh God, please tell me it’s Stiles. You’ve had the biggest crush on him for about forever.’

That was when the toilet flushed and the ensuite door opened to reveal Stiles looking like the cat that ate the canary and possibly the entire aviary while he was about it.

‘A crush?’ He was beaming as brightly as Kira was. ‘On me?’

‘Shut up, Stiles.’ Derek ducked his head, knowing he’d been completely and utterly rumbled. Kira had been the only one he’d confessed to.

‘No, wait a second.’ Stiles’ grin turned smug. ‘All this time, I thought I was about the luckiest person on earth that you would even look at me and it turns out that you were pining for me?’

‘I wasn’t pining.’ Derek muttered, folding his arms and trying to get back some of his dignity. ‘I admired from afar.’

‘He pined.’ Kira giggled. ‘He pined so hard that I think we ate the entire grocery store stock of Ben and Jerry’s that first month you were dating Lydia. He made me go on a road trip to Vegas where all he did was mope and play the slots.’

‘I hate you.’ Derek growled at her but she completely ignored him and went over to throw her arms around Stiles, the two of them bouncing around like kindergarteners.

‘This is so great.’ Kira dragged Stiles back to the bed and hauled him onto it with her, all three of them getting tangled up. ‘It’s like my brother and my other brother getting together.’

‘That would be incest, Kira.’ Derek felt he was obligated to point this out. Kira crinkled her nose adorably and then shrugged.

‘Meh.’ She wriggled so she was between them, getting comfortable on the pillows. ‘Geez, I’m bushed after all that. Can I stay and nap for a bit?’

‘Sure.’ Stiles grinned badly at Derek over her head. ‘Although you do realise we’re both still naked, right?’

Kira mumbled something indistinct, already half asleep. Derek regarded her and brushed her hair out of her face.

‘She’s fucking nuts.’ he said, voice full of affection.

‘I know.’ Stiles replied. ‘But then again, who isn’t?’

Melissa hummed to herself as she wandered the aisles of the grocery store. It was nice having this time to herself between shifts and she stopped to peruse a selection of sandwiches, tapping her fingers against her mouth as she contemplated lunch.

A familiar voice broke through her reverie and she frowned and walked to the end of the aisle, peeking around the corner and grinning as she took in the scene in front of her.

Canoodling. There was no other word for it. What was even more amusing was who exactly was doing the canoodling.

She’d always known how affectionate and tactile Stiles was. When he’d been in elementary school and she and Claudia had got together for coffee while he and Scott tore around the playground at the park, she’d always loved how free he’d been with his affection. He’d always come back to Claudia for a hug or a kiss on the head before galloping off again, something Melissa had envied. Scott had become withdrawn after Rafael had left, not as accepting of Melissa’s overtures as he had been and she had missed it.

Then Claudia had gotten sick and Stiles’ sunny nature had clouded over and he’d turned from tactile to clingy in his desperation. Melissa knew that whenever she’d visit she would find him on Claudia’s bead, tucked under her arm or snuggled into her side. Then Claudia’s dementia had gotten worse and she’d stopped recognising her son and that warm physical affection had dried up. Noah had tried to be a substitute but Melissa knew that nothing could ever take the place of Claudia’s touch. She had died and Stiles had grown up far too quickly, and that reservedness had persisted. He’d taken to pulling himself back, putting himself out there with words and manic energy instead and that sunny happy child she had known was hardly to be seen.

This though, this was like getting hit in the face with the past and it made her heart soar to see it.

Stiles had Derek trapped against one of the milk fridges, hands on his hips and their noses almost touching they were so close. It startled Melissa a little to realise that there was barely an inch difference between them and how broad Stiles had gotten in the shoulders. He and Derek now faced off as equals rather than antagonists and Melissa was equally surprised to see the look of exasperated love on Derek’s face as he looked into Stiles’ eyes, his own arms resting on Stiles’ shoulders.

‘I have to get milk.’ he said and Stiles snorted happily and nuzzled at him.

‘Well, I have to get kisses.’ he replied.

‘We’re in the middle of the store.’ Derek protested but his eyes were crinkled up and he was smiling in a way that Melissa could never recall seeing him smile. He looked utterly besotted and it was a very good look on him.

‘Stop being a worry wolf.’ Stiles laughed. ‘The pack shops on the other side of town. Nobody will see us here.’ He peppered Derek’s face with kisses and Derek started honest-to-God giggling, trying not very hard to fight him off until Stiles got him good and pinned and kissed him properly, Derek’s arms looped around his neck and their bodies pressed up tight against each other.

Melissa watched until it got a little too heated and then turned and left, a smile on her face all the way back to the hospital.

+ 1

‘Derek! Wake the fuck up!’ Stiles sounded panicked, more panicked than Scott had ever heard him. He was already moving to the door of the examination room when he was moved aside by Deaton. Boyd had laid Derek out on the stainless steel examination table, his shirt slashed by the harpy’s claws and deep rents in the skin underneath that bled freely. Stiles was in a state, his own clothes smeared with grime and his hair matted with what smelled like blood. Boyd wasn’t much better himself, battered and bruised, as was Erica. She was holding onto Derek’s hand tightly, not letting go even when Stiles shoved her aside to get to him.

Not for the first time, Scott realised he was out of the loop. He hadn’t even known that there was something up or that they were going hunting.

‘This is bad.’ Deaton’s usually calm was rattled. He disappeared and came back with a jar of oily looking green liquid. ‘Can someone hold his head?’

‘Why isn’t he healing?’ Cora asked, her dark eyes huge and full of tears.

‘Harpy venom is usually lethal to werewolves.’ Deaton nodded at Isaac, who lifted Derek’s head gently. Scott watched Deaton pry his mouth open and tipped the contents of the jar into it, Isaac steadying Derek so he wouldn’t choke. ‘Stiles. If ever you needed to use your spark, now is the time.’

‘Okay.’ Stiles wiped at his face, tears leaving clean streaks through the blood and dirt. He laid his hands on Derek’s chest and closed his eyes. ‘Come on, asshole. You don’t get to check out on me.’

Across the table, Cora took her brother’s other hand and Isaac laid Derek’s head down and moved to wrap his arms around her. Boyd came to stand alongside Erica, his arm around her waist.

‘Call him back.’ Deaton was looking at Stiles intently. ‘You know what he needs to hear.’

Stiles nodded, sniffling loudly when Derek’s wounds started to smoke as the potion kicked in.

‘Come on.’ He leaned down so his forehead was resting against Derek’s. ‘Please Derek, don’t leave me here without you. You know I can’t be alone anymore, not now I’ve got you with me.’

Scott frowned, his brain racing to catch up.

‘It’s not working.’ Erica was crying freely, her mascara streaked all down her face.

‘It will work.’ Stiles tightened his grip on Derek’s hands. ‘Come on, you stubborn son of a bitch. I need you and if you think I’m letting you go without a fight, well you can take that and stick it up your ass.’

As if on cue, Derek shuddered and took on a deep breath. He started coughing, eyes flying open to glow red as he convulsed on the table. All the other wolves ran to hold him down but it was horrible to watch, even as his wounds slowly sealed up and his breathing eased.

‘That’s it.’ Stiles was smiling through his tears. ‘Another deep breath, just like that baby.’

Derek’s head fell back to the table with a thump and he made a face that would have been comical if it hadn’t been for the circumstances.

‘I feel like I got chewed up and spat out.’ he croaked and everyone sagged in relief.

‘You almost did, man.’ Boyd laughed, but it was choked. ‘Fuck, we thought we’d lost you.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Derek looked up at Stiles, one hand coming up to cup his cheek. ‘I’m fine, okay.’

‘You’re not, but I’ll take it.’ Stiles replied, still crying and kissing Derek’s forehead. ‘You stupid self-sacrificing dick. If I didn’t love you so damn much, I’d kill you myself.’

Scott looked at Deaton, who shrugged, cryptic smile back in place.

Derek smiled, exhausted but soft.

‘I love you too.’ he replied, pulling Stiles down into an upside down kiss that went on and on and didn’t stop even when the back door slammed open and a wild-eyed Peter charged in, claws and fangs out and his eyes electric blue.

‘Harpies?’ He waved his hands at them, looking for all the world like Stiles when he flailed. ‘What the fucking fuck?’

Stiles and Derek broke apart, holding onto each other tightly.

‘Your pack.’ Stiles murmured, nosing at Derek’s hair.

‘Our pack.’ Derek replied and pulled him back down to kiss again.

#greenleaf1316 #stereksanta20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

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