#and then paris shows up in neither of those colors

[cto10121]

Broke: Mercutio being the nephew of the Prince and thus wearing Escalus colors

Woke: Mercutio being the nephew of the Prince but purposefully wearing blue to show his identification with the Montagues and being taken as an honorary member by all parties involved

[denimbex1986]

'When the companies behind Ira Sachs’ new drama about the shifting currents of intimacy in a troubled love triangle submitted Passages to the Motion Picture Association ratings board, they probably anticipated an R.

But the MPA came back with an NC-17 rating, forcing the distributor to release the film (which premiered at Sundance earlier this year) unrated rather than risk commercial marginalization or impose cuts that would diminish its intensity...

Let’s be clear: Passages — which Mubi opened Aug. 4 in Los Angeles and New York before expanding to other cities in the weeks to come — is a movie with a generous amount of sex, both gay and straight. But it’s neither particularly explicit nor remotely gratuitous, even if it’s frequently quite hot.

The sex is, above all, integral to the movie’s emotional texture, to the way the characters navigate their volatile relationships, the way they express their feelings and explore their connections through their bodies as they come together and pull apart. In other words, the film’s candor in depicting sex and nudity nudges it closer to European cinema than American.

The ratings controversy around Sachs’ movie comes just as Oppenheimer has been generating talk on social media and in the press about being the first Christopher Nolan movie to feature sex scenes. The trysts between Cillian Murphy as scientist J. Robert Oppenheimer and Florence Pugh as his lover both before and during the former’s marriage earned the release an R rating, which is standard given the glimpses of sweaty flesh on view.

But the fact that people are talking about it at all — and no one has been talking about it louder than Nolan himself — just underlines how squeamish American movies are about sex and sensuality.

The sex scenes in both those movies serve a clear narrative purpose. In Nolan’s film, they convey the magnetism of Oppenheimer and its ultimately devastating effect on a woman who, while not really on screen long enough to acquire much complexity, is defined by her intellectual curiosity, political radicalism and carnal desire.

The actual intercourse — once during the affair and once years later, as a haunting specter conjured in a security hearing — is brief and somewhat mechanical, while a long post-coital discussion has Murphy and Pugh sitting naked in armchairs on opposite sides of a room, carefully positioned and framed to keep crotches out of sight. The scene looks like an interview for an admin job at a nudist colony. It’s anything but erotic.

The scene in the Paris-set Passages that evidently had the MPA clutching their pearls, by contrast, is erotically and emotionally charged, raunchy and tender. It takes place after narcissistic German filmmaker Tomas (Franz Rogowski) has strayed outside his marriage to English print-maker Martin (Ben Whishaw) with Agathe (Adèle Exarchapoulos), a French schoolteacher he met at the wrap party for his latest feature.

Back in bed with Martin again, Tomas more or less offers himself up, resulting in sex that could be a bid for forgiveness, a reconciliation, a sad acknowledgment of enduring feelings or a manipulative attempt by Tomas to keep a hold on his husband while continuing to explore a new relationship. Or it could be all of those things.

Like the movie’s other sex scenes, it’s dramatically loaded, and although it’s shot in a single take with no artful draping of the sheets, it’s hardly graphic...

The prim attitude toward sex in American movies goes beyond MPA rulings to Hollywood itself. Sex and unapologetic sensuality have been all but banished from the mainstream since the heyday of erotic thrillers in the 1980s and early ‘90s — films like Dressed to Kill, American Gigolo, Body Heat, Basic Instinct, 9½ Weeks, The Last Seduction, Color of Night and Sliver. People onscreen were getting laid and loving it back then.

What happened to make American movies so desexualized? As the holdover artistic spirit of the emancipated ‘70s faded further into the distance, studios became increasingly corporate and less creative in their thinking. In order to be profitable, movies had to play not only across the U.S. — including conservative Red states and Bible Belt regions — but internationally, where many countries have rigidly imposed codes concerning sex and nudity.

The ascendance of the superhero movie has been another nail in the coffin of sensuality. In the Superman films of the late ‘70s and early ‘80s, there was most definitely something cooking between Christopher Reeve and Margot Kidder. But in the more recent wave of comic book-inspired action fare, the protagonists are so sexless they might as well be genital-free Kens and Barbies...

Where, in film, is the supposed sex-positive movement that has become part of the cultural conversation? Cable and streaming platforms have stepped into the breach with shows that don’t hold back on steamy content — think Girls, Insecure, P-Valley, Bridgerton, Game of Thrones, Euphoria and The White Lotus.

So is the dearth of grownup attitudes toward sex and sensuality on big screens a stagnant situation or a step backwards? Many would argue convincingly that it’s been that way since the late ‘90s. But it’s also conceivable that we’re in a unique perfect-storm moment, where far-right conservatism has converged with post-MeToo liberal timidity. On social media, some Gen-Z filmgoers have even questioned whether sex scenes have a place in movies. Seriously, kids, you need to get out more.

The presence of intimacy coordinators on set has no doubt helped to ensure an environment of increased safety and trust for actors, establishing essential boundaries of body autonomy. But unlike so many uninhibited European screen stars, the majority of major-name American performers remain shy about stripping down and going at it.

Witness Penn Badgley declaring his dislike of filming intimate scenes and his insistence on less sex and skin for his character in season 4 of Netflix’s You out of respect for his marriage. “That aspect of Hollywood has always been very disturbing to me,” said the actor in a Variety interview. But many of us who bemoan the shortage of full-blooded sensuality at the multiplex might wonder which Hollywood he’s talking about.'

[retrieve-the-kraken]

Heartstopper season 2 play-by-play analysis

It can’t be over! It can’t be! How long will it be before my next dose of serotonin? Although rewatching helps, absolutely, but my god, that cliffhanger! Those last moments of the episode just leave you yearning for more. More Paris Squad, more in-depth looks into their individual stories, more Nick & Charlie, more more MORE!

I’m glad that Alice Oseman is already hard at work on the season 3 script. I hope they’re as inspired as ever.

EPISODE 8 - PERFECT

- Baby Queen’s “Colours of you” makes an appearance/comeback. I don’t know, but I feel like a lot of people said that it was about how Nick makes Charlie feel, how his world is black and white until Nick comes into his life (I don’t know if maybe Baby Queen said that), but to me it was always more the other way around: that Nick’s life was very black and white until he met Charlie, because not only did he realize he liked Charlie, but he also realized this whole other part of himself, in the form of the colors of the rainbow (queer pride).

- Comments to Nick’s post coming out as bi are a a mix of joyful and shocked but a few awful people just taking up space too.

- Charlie saying that his life is perfect right now and that everything’s perfect, whilst Nick knows it’s not, because Charlie still has an eating disorder, and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

- “Do you want to be my girlfriend?” “Is that a serious question?” Love them.

- Tara and Sahar, I hope you’ve learned your lesson: never ever take part in an organization committee.

- I was weirded out by the fact that they included prom in the show, since I thought there was no high school prom in the UK. It just seems like such an American/gringo thing (we have prom in my country, but it’s nothing like the gringo prom… mine was so weird and lame). But it turns out that they do have it in the UK now, likely made popular by all the classic teen dramas and rom coms that take place in high schools from the United States. But since it wasn’t in the comic either, I still thought it was a strange addition at first. However, the whole group dynamic made it work.

- Coach Singh coaxing Mr Ajayi to text Mr Farouk… that whole interaction was so precious…

- People just openly coming up to Nick and Charlie to ask if it’s true that they’re dating. Children, it’s none of your business, you don’t even know them…

- The conversation between Tao and Nick, Tao’s face as Nick mentions that Charlie is still affected by the bullying… poor Tao, he really didn’t mean for that to happen, that’s why he’s so protective of Charlie. And Nick’s face when Tao mentions his dad dying, like he’s really surprised that Tao is opening up to him. “Didn’t know about your dad…” “Don’t be weird about it.” “I’ll try.” “Good.”

- And their faces when they both realize that neither knows how bad the bullying was, because Charlie hasn’t opened up to either of them completely about it.

- And Nick and Charlie both looking so handsome in their suits, and being so gaga for each other. “I can’t believe you’re my boyfriend…” “You look… sooo… goooood! YOU LOOK SOOOO GOOD!” My favorite thing about this new season is that I’ve lost count of how many times Nick can’t resist the urge to pick up Charlie. I’m making a montage.

- “And a big public appearance as a couple… that’s definitely what we want?” Nick knows how much the attention might overwhelm Charlie. But Charlie’s not thinking about that, he’s trying to focus on the good part, the fact that he has an amazing boyfriend, that they can be together without hiding now.

- Darcy watching sourly as a mother picks up and comforts her small child, indicating that her bad relationship with her mother is not a new thing, her mother has never been nurturing or comforting or loving. And of course, how is Darcy supposed to know how to love someone if she has never been shown love in her entire life?

- Best scene ever: Elle’s dad being a ten feet tall burly man, pretending to be intimidating but then laughing it off. Will Gao’s awkward nervous laugh sends me.

- His reaction to Elle’s whole look. “You look… you… you’re so… Hello…” He’s so smitten.

- Seriously, Tao and Elle being the hottest, most stylish couple at the prom. Tara’s dress, though, is my absolute favorite.

- Tao and Elle being silly and cute for photos, and the four original friends taking a cheesy studio photo together. Love them.

- “I can’t believe Nick’s showing off his boyfriend, but none of you managed to bring a girl!” How does Harry manage to say something ‘nice’ and still make it sound like bullying? AAAND you didn’t bring a girl either, Harry, so what’s your deal??? He’s just loudly seeking attention. Where’s Tao when you need him to shut Harry down with a snarky comeback??

- The boys teasing Nick about being the first one in a relationship, like it’s no big deal. But my favorite was Christian going “I could get a girlfriend, how about Tara Jones?” Awww, has he genuinely liked Tara this whole time, or was she the first one that came to his mind? (I think he genuinely didn’t remember she’s a lesbian).

- Tara’s “How do you talk to someone about something they don’t want to talk about?” And Nick realizing that that’s what’s happening with Charlie. “Maybe you just have to try, even if it doesn’t work”. They both have to go for it. I love their friendship.

- Baby Queen‼!

- The dance routine, Elle and Tao living their best movie sequence.

- The little neon butterflies as Elle tells Tao she wants to go to Lambert, and he tells her that he knows. Yes he knows, and he knows that it will make him happy to see Elle happy, even if that means letting her go. He has to overcome his fear of abandonment. He’s not being abandoned, they’re just growing up.

- THE ACE BOOK. Give it to mee‼! Isaac is looking for an identity. And I love that it cuts to James enjoying himself too, and Tori being content by herself at a table. I hope we get more of Tori’s story in future Heartstopper seasons (and the comic too).

- And the teachers are going on an actual date!

- I don’t know what that meant, Imogen getting sort of misty-eyed looking up at Sahar playing. Maybe she’s realizing that she might have feelings for her, but my interpretation is that, since Imogen claimed that she needed to focus on herself, and since the whole season she has seemed pretty lonely, and we find out that she and Sahar used to be friends until Imogen got a boyfriend and they stopped talking to each other (regardless of who stopped first), and because Sahar revealed that she was bi and Imogen got caught unawares and thought maybe she should have known that, that Imogen’s reaction was more of a wanting to rekindle that friendship. As we saw with Tao and Charlie, and maybe now even Nick and Tao, friendships and platonic relationships are given the same importance in Heartstopper as romantic ones. Not all stares mean romance. And Imogen is looking for friends right now. (Although if it does lead to romance, I wouldn’t be mad about it… and who can deny the Lesbian Lighting??? Maybe Imogen IS into girls after all…) “Youuu, soft and lonely…”

- Isaac getting his heartstopper moment when he holds the book to his chest. YES ISAAC!

- Charlie asserting himself and asking Nick if they can leave, because he’s tired and uncomfortable of people staring and pointing. Everyone’s been so nice to their face about them coming out as a couple, but that doesn’t mean that Charlie’s not going to be worried about someone saying something nasty to either him or Nick, and it doesn’t mean that he’s not possibly going to have horrible flashbacks to being bullied. And Nick once again realizing that he doesn’t care about parties, he just wants to be with Charlie.

- Seriously, Sarah needs to adopt Darcy, replace David.

- Why would Darcy’s mum see Tara in her dress and think “oh no, a door-to-door salesperson?” She clearly doesn’t want to deal with anyone, but maybe even worse, she just wants to quickly get rid of a black girl standing at her doorstep.

- “She had another one of her tantrums last night.” Like this is typical and so it’s not a big deal that she has no idea where her daughter is…

- Group hug to heal my soul.

- “I wanted to be that person for you…” My heart. Tara and Darcy finally talking. “You’ve only seen half of my life.” “And now i’ve seen the other half, and I still love you.” “Are you sure? Because I’m a literal disaster.” “Oh I know.” That is so sweet. And Darcy practicing saying I love you until it feels normal and natural. So joyful.

- By the way, only Heartstopper can get me to listen to Taylor Swift. No offense to all the Swifties (including Patrick Watson), I love your love for Taylor, but I really don’t get it, her music just doesn’t get to me. Admittedly that song was nice for this moment. But that’s about it. But anyway… don’t come at me. I just prefer Baby Queen and Orla Gartland and beabadobee and Carly Rae Jepsen and Gabrielle Aplin and Wolf Alice and Carmody and girl in red much more in this soundtrack. AND THAT WASIA PROJECT SONG‼ Weeping‼

- I love how warm and sweet everyone in the group is to each other. Look at Tao and Nick hugging! Look at how Nick and Tara and Darcy are as much a part of the group as if they had been there for as long as the other four have been tight. Everyone deserves a friend group like that.

- I love that they included that bit from the little comic answering fan questions, where Nick realizes that maybe he’s had a crush on a boy before.

- “Now your turn”. Nick really wants Charlie to be able to open up to him, about anything. Charlie deflects, as always, and says that they don’t need to talk about it because everything’s fine, but the truth is he doesn’t want to talk about it, he doesn’t want to deal with those feelings. But if he never does, he’s just never going to move past that. And Nick wants to help him, even if it’s hard, even if it’s painful, he wants to understand. “You don’t have to be perfect with me.” Charlie just shrinking into himself…

- That whole conversation, it was an impeccable performance from Joe and Kit, and I’m crying again… Nick can’t even fathom that anyone would call this beautiful boy disgusting, and he can’t even fathom the pain that would cause Charlie to hurt himself, he doesn’t even know what to do… but he’s there, he’ll be there, and he wants Charlie to know how much he cares about him. It’s so soft, the hugs, the soft voices, the kiss on the forehead, the tearful kiss, and telling him how much he loves everything about him…

- Serial hoodie thief.

- That deep sigh… that terrified look…

- Spoiler alert: Charlie doesn’t send the text… of course not… he quickly realizes that he wouldn’t just say that for the first time over text… he wants to really mean it.

This episode is brought to you by TIPTOE KISSES™.

Looking forward to next season:

- Sara and Nick’s talk at the beach in Menorca. It will destroy me, but it will be worth it.

- The ‘I love you’ shower scene, and subsequent street chase.

- The beach, and Nick and Charlie both blushing when Charlie’s putting sunscreen on Nick’s back.

- More from The Teachers™ ‼

- I’m not ready for Charlie writing the note to read to his parents… I’ll never be ready… I’ll weep until I’m out of tears…

- Charlie possibly speaking Spanish… listen Joe, Kit had to learn French, Spanish is NOTHING compared to that, you’ll be fine.

- In the comic, after Charlie faints, there’s that funny moment when Nick says “Charlie, I’m not gonna start acting like I’m your doctor and you’re my patient… *seductive smirk* *eyebrow wiggle* unless you’re into that…” “SHUT UP!” I need this moment, I need it so bad…

- More about Elle’s family, please. I already love her parents. More about all the families, really.

- More Tori, hopefully.

MORE HEARTSTOPPER, PLEASE!

[runwayrunway]

No. 12 - Airbus A350F Default Livery

Another Paris Air Show bonus! Airbus has unveiled the default livery for their new freighter variant of their already-popular A350 wide-body airliner.

image: airbus

For those unaware, manufacturers like Boeing and Airbus tend to have "factory default" liveries used for demonstrations and the like. Generally they have different variants for different models, which can be as simple as a change of hue or as complex as a complete redesign.

This time around, Airbus held a design competition for their new freighter's default colors. So, hypothetically, this should be far more inspired than the average livery. Do I agree with their judgment?

Unless specified otherwise all this information is taken from Airbus's own webpage on the contest.

Okay, so who won the contest? The answer may surprise you! There are two (technically three) winners who submitted similar ideas. Those winners are a 57-year-old professional graphic designer...and a pair of brothers, aged 16 and 12.

That's right. There is a very real possibility that I come out of this with the opinion that a 12-year-old can design better planes than many adult professionals!

These were the winning designs. On the right is the Iversen brothers', and on the left is the one by Feehan, the professional graphic designer. As you can see, they both play on the same theme - delivery boxes.

I honestly think this is really brilliant. This is such an obvious idea that I can't believe it's not all over the place. The brown cardboard shipping box is such a universal association that it might be the first thing that pops into most people's head when cargo is mentioned despite the fact that cargo planes use pallets.

The two designs take different riffs on the theme. The Iversens' is covered in various labels and stickers and stamps, while Feehan's is covered in typical box signage like the classic 'THIS WAY UP' and taped together. It almost looks like someone has attempted to package the airframe itself for delivery, complete with an adorable postage stamp on the plane's cheek.

If I were Airbus, I also think I would have trouble choosing between the two. While the task of combining them without making the final design overwhelming is pretty daunting, these are both very well-done attempts on the theme. And combining them is the challenge. On their own both feel balanced, neither too sparse nor too busy, but combining them could quickly become a nightmare.

My one critique of both of them is with the writing itself. I think they both missed two very obvious options - either have the A350F written on a shipping label, or write it in sharpie as one does on a cardboard box. But that's beside the point. What did Airbus do with the designs?

Hmm. Okay.

They absolutely kept the spirit of both original concepts. I really love "open here for business", that's adorable. (It's more visible from the back, which is an angle I'll post in a minute.) I like the shade of cardboard beige they chose. I do wish they'd picked a shade for the tape that looked more like tape on a box and less like barricade tape, and I wish they'd kept the messy, hand-applied look from Feehan's design rather than making it a couple of very neat, evenly-placed strips.

I do think they erred a bit too far on the side of decluttering. While I understand the reasons they did this, I wish there were a couple more loose postage tchotchkes scattered on the airframe, even if they're too small to be seen at a distance, because even if you need to get close to figure out exactly what that sticker says it still adds to the overall box vibe. That said, it is not bad enough that it completely ruins the look. I do, in particular, miss the little postage stamp on the cheek. It was very cute.

Yep, this picture again! Look, they only gave me three to work with, and I had to use something for the hook.

I wish they hadn't included the blue on the underside of the plane and on the engines. It feels a bit out of place and clashes with the brown, and I think they could have just as easily used white.

My one main criticism, I think, is that they made it very very Airbus. They couldn't stomach the crooked tape; they had to make it neat. They had to make it professional. And yes, I get it, it's a branding thing - the carbon fiber tail.

Airbus has a bunch of default liveries for various models of plane, and I might review those someday, but the only one relevant at the moment is among my least favorite - the 'carbon fiber' A350. The herringbone weave pattern itself would be fine (I like how it shows gaps of white underneath it) if it were done in some some sort of fabric design, or if it weren't just half of the plane, maybe, but in its current state it looks quite miserably...gamer desktop setup. And it does have a meaning, it's a reference to Airbus's heavy use of composite materials including carbon fiber (if anyone finds this worrying in light of recent events, just know that carbon fiber has been used in airplanes for a very long time with no issues because it's fantastically tensile despite being lightweight and is a wonderful choice for sealing pressure inside of a vessel but decidedly less so for resisting it from outside). I get the intent, I just think it doesn't look good.

image: Viktor & Rolf

Also, they dressed her like this.

I get why they kept the carbon fiber tail, and it doesn't look nearly as bad when it's mostly covered up and just poking out of the end of a cardboard tube like a leek coming out of a grocery bag in a stock photo, but I just...I wish they didn't.

Ultimately, I understand why they had to tone down the whimsy, make it neater, more professional, less relatable. More futuristic, but there's nothing futuristic about a cardboard box and there shouldn't be. Still, the idea they were given was so strong from the beginning, and they did resist the urge to scrub it of any character. They certainly did not improve the design of two literal children, but they also didn't fail to translate it.

All in all, they were given something to work with that could have been an easy A if they didn't have to be so...damn....Airbus. Still, it could be so much worse, and it is, undeniably, such a strong idea to begin with.

Final Grade: B-

For anyone paying attention: yes, this does mean that most airlines cannot meet the standard of concept and design set by literal children. But fair play to those children. I like their design.

[marienomad]

Whumptober 2023 Day 8

The Tribble Trials of Commander Paris

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Paramount.

This is written for day 8 of Whumptober 2023.

The Tribble Trials of Commander Paris

By Marie Nomad

Commander Tom Paris had been in many situations. He had traveled through different eras, been captured, and cloned, and even started a salamander species with Admiral Janeway. Now he found himself in the strangest situation he had ever faced. Dressed in his Starfleet uniform and wielding a Bat’leth, he stood beside his wife, B’Elanna, and his little girl, Miral. Ever since returning to Earth, he had vowed to support his daughter in her Klingon celebrations. Not only was Miral the "Chosen One" among the Klingon people, known as the Kuvah'magh, but Tom also wanted to show that he accepted her Klingon heritage.

He still remembered the trio of Klingons who had appeared bearing gifts: gold-pressed latinum, a Qapla’ Medallion, and a Memory Crystal filled with Klingon Operas. He had safely stored the latinum for when Miral was older.

Now he was among other Klingon parents and their children in the middle of the plains. Although these children had not yet hit Klingon puberty, there was no doubt they could beat him up if they wanted to.

“Commander Paris, Commander B’Elanna, Miral,” Commander Worf greeted them, dressed in ceremonial garb. “Thank you for coming to the Tribblemey QotmoH.”

"Yeah, I've never done this before," B'Elanna pointed out.

"Neither have I," Worf reassured her. "This ritual was common in the 23rd Century during the Great Tribble Purge. It used to be a rite of passage until the Great Klingon Empire annihilated the tribbles." His lips parted, and he growled. "That is, until a foolish changeling smuggled one back to the present after we prevented a... timeline disruption. Quark even sold tribbles to the Federation, granting them their own homeworld again. We can't bomb it, but we are allowed to cull the tribbles using only blades." He glanced at Tom. "Can you even harm a tribble?"

Tom couldn’t lie, the piles of purring Tribbles at a distance look really inviting.  He just wanted to dive in and reenact the one picture of Captain Kirk being buried by Tribbles.  Those tribbles look so adorable and he wanted to cuddle them.  But he is here to support Miral and B’Elanna with the whole kill tribble tradition.  His stomach turned. He really didn’t like the idea of watching the poor innocent tribbles get killed.  “I volunteered for this.  I don’t know if I could actually kill them but I won’t get in anyone’s way.”

��I’m here to bond with my son, Alexander.  I thought that if we do the Tribblemey QotmoH together, we could get closer.” Worf pointed to Alexander who was warming up.  The young man looked fully grown with a beard and he was practicing his form. 

"That's... nice," Tom replied, looking down at Miral, who had her own child-sized Bat'leth. "I'm not sure if Miral will be able to kill any tribbles. She's three-fourths human, and the tribbles might actually like her."

M'Rek, the head Klingon, clad in a multi-colored fur coat, approached them. In his hand was a glommer, a creature known to eat tribbles. "Welcome to the Tribblemey QotmoH! Slaughter the tribbles and bring honor to your house! Skin them, eat them, and turn them into a coat as a trophy. Make sure you bring great honor to your house," he said, gesturing to his own coat. He then looked at Tom, the only full human among the Klingons. "Oh! A human! Can you even raise your blade against a tribble?"

Tom stood taller as the other Klingons stared at him. "I AM TOM, SON OF OWEN OF THE HOUSE OF PARIS! I GO WHERE MY WIFE AND DAUGHTER GO! I KILL WHAT MY WIFE AND DAUGHTER KILL!"

"Ah, not even Captain James T. Kirk could kill a single tribble when they infested his ship," M'Rek chuckled. "This should be most interesting."

Tom tightened his grip on his Bat’leth as the drums began to sound. His wife and daughter were visibly excited. Even sweet little Miral seemed almost savage, her Klingon blood apparently giving her an appetite for the battle ahead.

"Begin!" M'Rek roared, and the Klingons—including Tom—charged toward the piles of tribbles. Screeches filled the air, making Tom want to cover his ears. Miral let out a gleeful scream as she began her attack. At least she was fitting in with the other Klingon children. Now all Tom had to do was avoid embarrassing her.

He paused before a tribble, captivated by its tranquilizing coos and purrs. "It's not sentient, it's not sentient," he muttered, closing his eyes and thrusting his weapon downward. The tribble screeched. Tom felt his stomach churn and fought back the urge to vomit.

"Hey, are you okay?" B'Elanna called, pausing in her own bloody work.

"Just stay with Miral. I'm just a weak human, remember?" Tom said, dismissing her concern. He moved to another tribble, steeled himself, and thrust down again. Another screech. He clenched his stomach, fighting nausea. Looking up, he saw Worf and Alexander, jubilant in their slaughter, and felt a wave of vertigo wash over him. What was it about killing these creatures that was affecting him so deeply?

Sweat pouring down his face, he approached another tribble, Bat’leth in hand. Each kill seemed to add an intangible weight to him. He recalled reports about tribbles affecting humans neurologically—was that why this was so difficult? Were the tribbles defending themselves through some sort of psychic manipulation?

"That's enough. You've killed two; that's a record for a human," M'Rek declared, placing a hand—covered in tribble blood—on Tom's shoulder. "I'm impressed you even managed one. You shall henceforth be known as 'Tom the Killer of Tribbles.'"

Tom looked into M'Rek's eyes, his own a mixture of relief and shame—relief that he could finally stop, and shame that he had felt so conflicted in the first place.

"Thank you, M'Rek. This was not an easy task for me."

"It's easy for a Klingon to kill a tribble. It's in our blood. But for a human? The struggle is intense. I've killed many tribbles in front of humans; they even protect the tribbles from me, even when the creatures are infesting their ships. Not even the oh-so-logical Vulcans can resist the tribbles."

"The Vulcans?" Tom repeated. He couldn't imagine that Vulcans would lose control over the tribbles.

"Yes, they hide the tribbles, claiming logic. No humanoid species, except for Klingons, can resist the tribble's spell. Take pride in your kills. Here, have a drink. Don't worry, it's safe for humans," M'Rek offered Tom a flask.

"Thanks, I appreciate the words of encouragement." Tom drank from the flask. It wasn't bloodwine or anything alcoholic, but more like a juice. "Wait, is this prune juice?"

"Warrior's drink."

"Of course."

He looked over to see B'Elanna and Miral gathering their 'trophies.' "Daddy! Look at all the tribbles I killed!" Miral gushed.

"I see! You'll make a nice coat!" Tom congratulated her. "I... killed two." He glanced at the two tribble corpses, small compared to the massive amounts that the Klingons had gathered.

"I'm impressed," B'Elanna said, smiling at him. "I've realized I hate them. They're adorable, but I just... hate them."

"Commander, you killed two tribbles!" Worf congratulated him, carrying his own kills. "Impressive. A human can't kill tribbles."

"I... I'm sure there are other humans who have killed tribbles," Tom said, confused. "Tribbles have been causing trouble for years. There must be humans who have killed a tribble or two."

"Not in the records. Humans usually gather them, contain them, or even use transporters to beam them to Klingon ships, but they don't kill them," Worf stated. "Even when the tribbles infested Deep Space Nine, Captain Sisko wouldn't let me hunt them, and he's... intimidating. No doubt there will be a song about 'Tom, the Killer of Tribbles.'"

"Two tribbles. Just two," Tom said, starting to feel embarrassed. "Please, no songs about me being the 'Killer of Tribbles.' I can picture Harry hearing about this and having everyone sing that song wherever I go."

"Why not? Killer of Tribbles," B'Elanna laughed. "You should be honored. It's not every day that a human gets a song from the Klingons."

"Daddy! Can we make a coat out of my kills?" Miral asked.

"Sure thing," Tom said, helping his family gather their kills.

M'Rek stood on a platform. "The culling is over, and many tribbles have been defeated! They'll respawn, but we've made a dent! Today, there's hope! We've witnessed a human killing TWO tribbles! This is a day of great honor! I'll commission an opera in 'Tom, the Killer of Tribbles' honor!"

The Klingons roared as they faced Tom.

"I'm... never going to live this down," he muttered, waving awkwardly at the cheering Klingons. He was pleased to earn a song in his honor, but most importantly, he had made his little girl proud. That was all the honor he needed.

The End

[incalescentia]

closed for @tiny-as-a-firely

OCTOBER 2028 — FIVE YEARS LATER

Whoever said time can heal any wound lied.

The first year was the hardest. Everything in this godforsaken city screamed her name. She may have moved on but it couldn’t forget her. Neither could Conrad. He spent most nights scrolling through her Instagram. Paris. Rome. Greece. Thailand. Japan. Amsterdam. Her smile, the true masterpiece with every changing backdrop. It was different. Conrad couldn’t put his finger on it until he showed his mom. “Happier,” she said, “She looks happier.” Shying away from the truth wouldn’t do him justice so he appreciated the brutal honesty. Even when it kept him awake at all hours, bare feet pacing back and forth, glass of wine in hand. Usually drunk and usually crying, an especially sad scene. Dialing Dorothea’s number to see if she would pick up. We’re sorry; the number you are trying to reach is… Click. He knew he would get disappointed but he had hoped she would answer and tell him, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

By the six month mark, he remembered he only needed to make one cup of coffee. He remembered he didn’t need to buy two of everything at the grocery store. That Friday nights weren’t date nights and that he didn’t have to go to their favorite restaurant to sit at their favorite table and eat alone. He remembered to send the weekly flowers to Dora’s mom instead of her vacant office, attached with a favorite book quote and a ‘wishing you the best’. He remembered to take down their pictures and throw away their marriage certificate and put the ginger-colored desk up for sale.

Year two wasn’t any better. Another Christmas, another New Year spent alone with his parents. While they did their best to smother him in love and affection, it only temporarily numbed the aching feeling. He wondered how she was spending her holidays and if she was alone. Every time he asked his parents, who warned him early on they didn’t plan on cutting Dora out of their lives, they wouldn’t spill a thing. “That stopped being your business the second you signed those papers, Connie,” his mom told him with a smile, like that would soften the blow. The closest to hearing her voice or getting inside of her head he could get was through her writing. Her words jumped out from the page and, for a moment, it felt like she was sitting beside him on their couch, rambling on about the Louvre or Kyoto.

By year three and four, Conrad began to figure out how to survive. That’s what it would be, right, when he no longer could live? He applied for his dream job and received an offer. Teaching at NYU, where he could have an intellectual conversation and not get in trouble for saying the founding fathers were full of shit. Then came Charles. A fluffy golden retriever who was attached to Conrad the second he walked through the door. To fill some of that loneliness, Conrad brought him home. Less nights of wine, more nights of walking Central Park and throwing a tennis ball against the wall and belly rubs. The first time a genuine laugh comes from Conrad and the first time he focused his love on someone that wasn’t her.

Somehow Conrad made it to year five. If someone told him back then he was about to be on a double date with his fiancée and her brother, he wouldn’t believe it. How could he have moved on? The truth was, it just happened. Like everything else just happened. Ava was pretty, and smart, and liked soccer, and they worked together. The perfect place for two lonely people to be less lonely together. Getting lost in the comfort of it, like a blanket to keep him warm.

Ava’s brother had a way of taking over any room. That’s what happened with his booming “hey” as he approached. Conrad was laughing at one of Ava’s jokes, glancing over a bar menu. Not entirely paying attention while standing to greet him and his date.

Dorothea. Curly hair cascading over her plaid jacket, high-waisted jeans complimenting her long legs, and confidently wearing heels despite her towering over everyone. She saw him first. He can tell because of her expression. Jaw clenched, eyes wide. The siblings are giving introductions but it sounded like white noise.

“Oh, it’s so nice to meet you, Dora! I’m Ava, and this is Conrad.” Panic coursed through his body as Ava placed a hand against his chest. Was there a nice way to disclose their preexisting relationship without damaging the ones in front of him?

Dora made the choice for him, reaching her shaky hand out to him, pretending there wasn’t a history book with their names on it. He met her half way. The simplest of touches, lasting less than a second, yet surfaced every emotion Conrad has ever felt for her. No words have left his mouth. There’s nothing to say, nothing to think, except one thing.

I love you so much.

[rax-writes]

More

Fandom:  MCU Pairing:  Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader Warnings:  Sexual intercourse with a female-identifying person with a vagina + a bit of sugar daddy Zemo vibes at the end Notes:  Y’all... don’t judge me. I have a power kink, and Marvel did me dirty by randomly deciding that Zemo is fifthly rich royalty. And my girl @henrysmorgan​ did me even dirtier by actively encouraging my attraction to this fucker. So, blame Marvel, and blame her. // This is kind of really fucking long, and I didn’t edit it much, because I wanted to get it posted before episode 4, in case that episode flips the script. So, potentially some editing issues, and slightly rushed writing. Hopefully it’s alright, but please let me know if I screwed up anywhere. // Lots and lots of TFAWS ep. 3 spoilers

When Bucky texted you to ask that you meet him in some dusty, old, abandoned-looking car garage, you certainly didn’t know what to expect. All you knew was that an old friend needed your help, so you intended to be there.

It had been a few months since you’d last seen him, and even longer since you’d participated in any sort of mission, but you suspected that was what you were walking into. Being exposed to the Mind Stone had granted you the power of telepathy, which meant that SHIELD was quite keen on persuading you to work for them. They trained you in martial arts and hand-to-hand combat, and you went on miscellaneous missions a handful of times. They put in a lot of effort to convince you that it was your moral obligation as an “enhanced individual” to help them with these missions, but you ultimately decided that that simply wasn’t the kind of life you wanted. Instead, after the Blip, you began working a desk job for SHIELD, which is when you crossed paths with Bucky, helping him with paperwork associated with his pardon, and the two of you formed a friendship. But SHIELD kept trying to coerce you to get back into the field, constantly badgering you about it and making it clear that you weren’t wanted if all you were doing was paperwork.

The truth is, you weren’t cut out to be a superhero, and you had no desire to be. It didn’t help that your entire country had been reduced to rubble several years prior, leaving you with a bottomless pit of homelessness in your heart. So, you left SHIELD, and started a life in Berlin, where you were content to live out your days as the owner of a small bakery, residing in the small apartment above your shop.

That is, until Bucky Barnes dragged you into a particularly sticky situation, with a certain Baron Helmut Zemo.

You knew that helping Bucky and Sam would throw a colossal wrench in the life you’d created for yourself in Berlin, but after they explained the situation with the super soldiers, coupled with Bucky’s puppy dog eyes, you found yourself refraining from storming out of the building the second you saw Helmut fucking Zemo.

“We need you to keep an eye on him. You don’t have to tap into his mind 24/7, we just want a heads up if he’s going to screw us over,” Bucky explained.

"Look, we really need him. We’re obviously scraping the bottom of the barrel here, otherwise he'd still be in that cell. And neither of us want to be packing a criminal around like a rich bitch's chihuahua, so we need you here to make sure we're not gonna get bit," Sam explained.

"Fine. But you both owe me," you relented, and they both took sighs of relief. You glanced at Zemo, locking eyes with him for several tense moments. He gave you a polite smile, giving off the impression that he had nothing to hide – which he didn't, as his thoughts showed his intentions were pure at the moment. "We're good for now. He just genuinely wants the opportunity to take down these new super soldiers."

Sam and Bucky nodded, visibly releasing tension from their shoulders as they moved to head out, now reassured that Zemo was truly on their side. Meanwhile, Zemo eyed you with curiosity and awe, murmuring, "Fascinating."

The four of you walked on the landing strip toward a private jet, owned by Zemo.

"So all this time you've been rich?"

"I was a Baron, Sam. My family was royalty before your friends destroyed my country," Zemo explained, before glancing at you with a small smile. "But you knew that already."

"Wait, how did she know that?" Sam asked, then turned to you. "How did you know that?"

"I am Sokovian myself. I was certainly not royalty, but I lived there for my entire life, until it was destroyed," you explained, stopping outside the jet as Zemo greeted the elderly butler, Oeznik, in your native language. It made you smile to yourself; it had been years since you'd heard it spoken. Zemo shot you a grin when he noticed, and when you took a peek into his mind, you saw that he understood exactly how you felt.

As the butler handed Zemo a flute of champagne after you all boarded the jet, the Baron smiled politely as Oeznik stated, “Apologies if that's a little warm. The fridge is out, but I will see if there is some good food in the galley.”

Zemo glanced as you sat across from him, then in Sokovian, Zemo told Oeznik, "Another flute for the lady, please. And if the food does not pass the smell test, give it to the gentlemen."

"It's good to have you back, sir!"

As the man retreated to the cockpit, also in Sokovian, you noted, "You are a mischievous man, even more so than in your infamously criminal ways."

"You will find that there is more to me than meets the eye, angel," he responded coolly, the Sokovian language rolling off his tongue like honey. Before you could respond, admittedly enjoying speaking Sokovian, Sam grew tired of everyone speaking a language he couldn't understand.

"Why don't you tell us about where we're going?"

After a tense exchange between Bucky and Zemo, followed by a discussion about Marvin Gaye, Zemo finally got to the point: Madripoor. You exhaled slowly, resting your forehead in your palm in exasperation.

“You couldn’t have invited me on a mission to Cancun? Or Paris? Why must it be Madripoor?” you asked Bucky, who shot you a tight-lipped, pitying smile, silently apologizing for what he was dragging you into.

“What’s up with Madripoor? You guys talk about it like it’s Skull Island.”

“It’s an island nation in the Indonesian archipelago. It was a pirate sanctuary back in the 1800s,” Bucky explained.

“And upon seeing it, you would see that times there haven’t changed one bit since then,” you added.

“It’s kept its lawless ways. But we cannot exactly walk in as ourselves. James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone,” Zemo said.

You frowned as you caught a glimpse of Bucky’s thoughts as he went silent. Fear. Anxiety. Disdain. Apprehension. You reached across to rest your hand on his shoulder and give it a reassuring squeeze. He shot you a small smile, then looked out the window.

Upon landing in Madripoor, one of Zemo’s contacts met you on the landing strip with a new wardrobe for you, Bucky, and Sam, and Zemo explained that each outfit was per his instruction, carefully chosen to fit the role each of you would be playing in Madripoor. One by one, you took the covered clothes hanger to the bathroom of the jet and changed. Bucky was first, stepping out in some sort of leather number, looking eerily similar to the Winter Soldier you’d seen in photos. Sam was next, donning a three-piece suit of burgundy and gold. He looked sharp, although he was immediately complaining about how ostentatious it was. And finally, you stepped into the room and closed the door behind you, unzipping the covering on the hanger and revealing your “carefully chosen” outfit.

“Ich werde dir im Schlaf die Eier abreißen, Zemo!”

Bucky choked on his water and Zemo chuckled under his breath, while Sam looked between the two in confusion.

“I don’t know what she said, but she sounded pissed,” he observed, eyeing Zemo suspiciously.

“She informed me that she intends to remove my testicles in my sleep.”

“And why is that?”

“Perhaps because he’s chosen to parade me around Madripoor like a cheap whore,” you said angrily, stepping out of the bathroom with your hands on your hips, glaring at Zemo.

“That dress is by Armani Prive, and your shoes are Louboutins – far from ‘cheap.’ And you do not look like a whore, the dress is merely more revealing than what you are used to,” Zemo argued, standing and walking over to survey your outfit. He seemed to be enjoying what he saw, judging from the way his eyes raked up and down your body, but you didn’t dare check his thoughts to confirm or deny it.

If you were honest with yourself, he was right. It was a very nice dress; plum purple, matching the color of Zemo’s turtleneck, with long, fitted sleeves, all of it made of the softest silk you had ever touched. It was fitted at the top but flowy from the hips down, with a low balconette-style neckline, showing more of your chest than you were accustomed to, although you pulled it off quite nicely. It ended just above your knees, which was fine, as you sometimes wore skirts of that length. Overall, the luxury of it and the low-cut neckline ensured that you were out of your comfort zone, but you looked stunning – and expensive, despite your spite-fueled initial claim.

“I thought the color would look nice on you, and I was right. And I knew that the flow of the fabric at the bottom would allow for this,” Zemo said, his hand gingerly trailing from your waist to your thigh, where he pulled up the hem of your dress slightly to reveal the edge of the Glock strapped into your thigh holster. He smirked as his suspicion was confirmed. He knew you’d find a way to arm yourself, regardless of what you wore.

In hindsight, the way Zemo touched your side and lifted your skirt was all far more intimate than you should have allowed, and yet… you couldn’t deny the way your breath caught in your throat when he touched you, or how his close proximity made your body temperature rise, as he gazed down at you with those intense brown eyes.

Christ, you needed to get laid. Soon. Before you further entertained the idea of jumping the bones of a highly wanted criminal.

“Touch me like that again, and I will kill you where you stand,” you informed him sternly, and Zemo immediately took a step backwards, looking apologetic. From the corner of your eye, you saw both Sam and Bucky visibly relax, tension leaving their shoulders. You had read their thoughts briefly, and they were both wondering why the hell you were so calm about getting cozy with Zemo. The absolute last thing you wanted was for them to know that you were, in fact, inexplicably drawn to being that close to the Baron.

As the four of you walked along a bridge in Madripoor, Sam was quick to resume his complaining.

“We have to do something about this. I’m the only one who looks like a pimp.”

“Only an American would assume a fashion-forward Black man looks like a pimp. You look exactly like the man you’re supposed to be playing. The sophisticated, charming African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger.”

“He even has a bad nickname,” Sam grumbled, then looked at the phone Zemo handed him. “Hell, he does look like me, though.”

“And who am I supposed to be?” you inquired, glancing down at your clothing to see if you could guess who you were meant to be portraying. An heiress or socialite, perhaps.

“My fiancée,” Zemo answered simply, the faintest smile on his lips.

You barked out a crude laugh, “Oh, I think not.”

“There is no one involved with Madripoor who looks like you. And it is rare that there are newcomers to the island, especially not in the place we’re going. Pretending you are someone random would raise concerns about the intentions of your presence; you would be perceived as a potential threat, which would jeopardize our mission. It is far easier to simply pretend we are engaged, I assure you.”

You hesitated a moment, before arguing, “No one will believe that we are engaged.”

Zemo pulled something from the inside pocket of his jacket, took your left hand, and slipped it onto your ring finger. It was a solitaire diamond ring; not large enough to be gaudy, but enough to catch anyone’s eye.

“They will if you play your part well,” he told you, then addressed the rest of your party when he added, “No matter what happens, we have to stay in character. Our lives depend on it. There is no margin for error.”

The four of you reached a sleek black car, and climbed in, you in the back between Sam and Bucky. The ride to Low Town was tense and silent, as each of you mentally prepared for what lay ahead. When you arrived, Zemo offered you his hand as you exited the car, and the pointed look in his eyes told you that it was time to begin playing your part. You took his hand, and as you began walking into the heart of Low Town, he laced his fingers with yours. As the crowd drew near, Zemo wrapped his arm around your shoulders, gloved fingers brushing against the exposed skin of your shoulder. After reading his mind, you realized that it was both for the sake of protecting you, and showing possessiveness to make it believable that you were his girl – and because he simply enjoyed having your body close, although you suspected that he’d rather you have not known that.

Despite the fact that you had been on a few missions for SHIELD, you were not exactly incapable of fear; you did not possess nerves of steel. All of the missions you’d been on were low-profile, and you were mostly just there for the sake of gathering information from those reluctant to share it. Sure, you’d been in danger before, you’d had to fight your way out of several sticky situations, but this… this was different. You were in the crime capital of the world, a lawless place filled to the brim with crooks, thieves, and murderers. More than likely, any given person around could slit your throat and never bat an eye or give you a second thought. Swallowing your own pride in the face of fear prompted you to return Zemo’s gesture, wrapping your arm around his waist and sticking close to him, which earned a smile from the man.

When you arrived at your destination, Zemo approached the bar and leaned against it confidently on one arm, the other still wrapped firmly around your shoulders.

“Hello, gentleman,” the bartender greeted, before his eyes fell on you. “Who’s your new lady friend, Baron?”

“My fiancée,” Zemo answered, then turned to you and ran his finger along your jawline, as you looked at him in adoration. “Isn’t she lovely?”

“Very,” the bartender acknowledged, then turned to Sam. “Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.”

“His plans changed. We have business to do with Selby,” Zemo responded.

The bartender made ‘Smiling Tiger’ his usual drink, which apparently consisted of… something he cut out of a snake, and dropped in a shot glass with a bit of liquor. You shared a look with Bucky before he turned away to survey the room, and when you read his thoughts, you found that you both desperately wanted to laugh out loud at Sam’s ‘short end of the stick’ situation, but didn’t want to risk everyone’s lives for the sake of a chuckle. You returned your attention to Zemo, opting to sell the whole “fiancée” thing a bit more by turning into him and tracing patterns on his chest as you gazed at him affectionately, while the bartender handed you and Zemo each a shot glass of your own – sans snake organs, thankfully. You both downed yours, while Sam understandably struggled a bit more with his, but still managed it.

A random man approached Zemo then, and as Zemo turned to face him, he protectively moved you behind him a bit.

“I got word from on high. You ain’t welcome here.”

“I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists, he can either come and talk to me…” Zemo countered, gesturing toward Bucky, who looked menacing as he pretended to be the Winter Soldier. “Or bring Selby for a chat.”

After a weary look in Bucky’s direction, the man walked away, and Zemo turned back around to face the bar, this time keeping you in between him in the bar, in case someone were to come up behind him – which they did a few moments later.

“Winter Soldier… attack,” Zemo commanded in Russian, as a different man came up and laid a hand on Zemo’s shoulder. With a pained look in his eye that quickly shifted to cold determination, Bucky grabbed the man’s hand with his vibranium arm, twisting it as he removed it from Zemo’s shoulder. Zemo took a step away from the bar to allow you room to turn and observe as Bucky beat the absolute shit out of various challengers. Zemo wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him as he noted, “Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form.”

The unmistakable sound of numerous guns cocking drew your attention away from the altercation, and Zemo gently pushed you behind him as he surveyed the room to note all the weapons drawn. Sam grabbed Bucky’s bionic arm to stop him, but Zemo whispered, “Stay in character or the whole bar turns on us.”

“Well done, soldier,” Zemo then said to Bucky in Russian, signaling for the ‘Winter Soldier’ to stop.

“Selby will see you now,” the bartender interjected, and Bucky released his grip on the random man’s throat.

“Thank you,” Zemo responded, walking off to find Selby, grabbing your hand to guide you, but not before you spared a sorrowful glance at Bucky as your friends followed closely behind.

As Zemo took a seat on a couch across from Selby, you sat close to him, crossing your legs gracefully as you leaned into him, your arm wrapped around his as he clasped his hands in his lap authoritatively. You watched his exchange with Selby in silence, as did Sam – and Bucky, of course, considering he was pretending to be the Winter Soldier.

“By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison,” Selby told Zemo, then smiled as she looked you up and down, before her eyes found the diamond ring. “And not engaged – to a woman far out of your league, I might add.”

“People like us always find a way, don’t we?” Zemo answered calmly, then looked over at you, staring into your eyes with warmth and adoration, and you smiled lovingly at him. “My beautiful fiancée was a guard at the prison. We fell in love over the years, and she helped me escape. Anyway, I’m sure you have already figured out what I’m here for.”

The conversation went relatively smoothly after that, until Sam’s goddamn phone rang and screwed the entire operation. In the blink of an eye, Selby was shot dead, you had shot two of the guards with the gun strapped to your thigh, and Sam and Bucky had each knocked out one, before Zemo suggested sneaking out of the bar as best you could, without any weapons. You secured your gun back in its holster, not missing the way Zemo watched as you hiked your dress up to do so, before making a break for it with the three of them.

Once you were on the streets of Madripoor, bounty hunters began to come out of the woodwork, and when they began shooting at you, Zemo abruptly grabbed your hand and ran down a nearby alleyway. As you were running, the heel of your stiletto caught on a grate, and you’d have fallen flat on your face if Zemo hadn’t caught you.

“Are you alright?” he asked hurriedly, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he supported you, before standing you back onto your feet. You nodded, and he glanced over your shoulder as he noticed a few men looking down the alley. “Forgive me.”

You were about to ask what he was talking about, but then Zemo abruptly grabbed you by the backs of your thighs and lifted you up, pinned you against the wall behind you, and kissed you.

The men at the end of the alleyway muttered something about “freaks who do it in public,” then their footsteps faded as they walked off, clearly thinking the two of you were some overly horny couple, not two of the people with an insane bounty on their heads. But you were barely paying them any attention, a bit preoccupied with the fact that Zemo was fucking kissing you, and much to your chagrin, you really fucking liked it.

Once there were no more voices and no more footsteps, Zemo broke the kiss and sat you down. The two of you stared at each other for a moment, before you heard more gunshots, and you broke into a run in the direction Bucky and Sam had gone, desperate to find your friends, and no time to process what the hell just happened.

As soon as you caught up with them, the two bounty hunters nearby were shot dead, and the four of you turned to see Sharon Carter emerging from the shadows.

An hour later, you found yourself in her swanky home in High Town, in a change of clothes, since the brick wall Zemo had held you up against ripped the back of your silk dress. You lied to Sam and Bucky, saying that it happened because you fell while running in your heels, and thankfully, they believed you. Sharon commanded the four of you to lay low and enjoy the party, which Sam and Bucky left her living room to go do, entrusting you with ‘Zemo watch.’

It seemed as though he was merely nursing his brandy in lieu of abandoning it for the party prior to finishing it off, but his eyes were on you most of the time. You didn't necessarily believe he could be plotting to overpower you and run off, but there is always that possibility, so you delved into his mind to check.

Expecting to find thoughts of strategy about how to defeat the super soldiers or travel plans, or even plots to escape you, Bucky, and Sam, you were astounded to find nothing but thoughts of you.

The way it felt to kiss you in that alleyway, and how he had monetarily debated just staying there, having his way with you against the brick wall before Sam and Bucky could locate you. The dress from the bar, and how it rested on your thighs, revealing just enough to have his mouth watering without being revealing to the point of immodesty. The way your necklace currently rested against your bare collarbone, and how desperately he craved to litter the area with love bites. The delicate skin of your throat, thinking of how it would look with his hand wrapped around it, just enough to cut off a bit of air but not enough harm you. How alluring your voice is, and how much he'd like to know what it would sound like to hear you scream his name. The softness and warmness of your skin when he had his arm around you in the bar, and when he held your hand as you fled the scene, and he wondered how soft and warm you were elsewhere.

"Your thoughts are filthy."

He bristled immediately, sitting straighter in his seat and eyes going slightly wide, either forgetting you can read minds or not realizing you'd be doing it right then. It only took a moment for him to regain his composure, before he took one long, last drink of his brandy and set the glass on the table in front of him. He turned his whole body to the side to face you, as you sat on the opposite end of the couch, wearing a small, somewhat mischievous smile.

"I suppose there is no sense in denying it, is there?"

"What game are you playing, Zemo?" you snapped. He was rattling you. As much as you hated to admit it, he was. For the entirety of the time you'd been around him, this wanted criminal had been flustering you, and goddammit it, you wanted to know if it was accidental, or for nefarious purposes. He could be using it as a tactic to throw you off your game, so that he could get away when it was just the two of you – like right now.

"There is no game, Liebling," he stated softly and sincerely, sensing your discomfort. Slowly, he scooted closer to you on the couch, so that the arm he had laid across the back of it was now behind you, as he stared intently into your eyes. "Merely the natural response of a man who has been widowed and then locked in a prison cell, and therefore has not known the touch of a woman in many years, sitting next to a woman of absolute ethereal beauty."

You said nothing, merely stared at him, sizing him up to see if he was toying with you or telling the truth. Zemo sensed your lack of belief in his words.

"If you doubt my true intentions, you are welcome to delve as deep into my mind as you'd like to find the truth."

In all honesty, you'd have done that already if you weren't trying to avoid being even more flustered by his thoughts about you – but you couldn't tell him that. So, you did as he bade you, and searched his mind to find any shred of malevolence towards you, but you came out empty-handed. Zemo genuinely just wanted you, craved you, like a starved man sitting in front of an endless buffet. He watched you carefully as you came to this conclusion, and although you said nothing further, he knew that you had found what you needed to know.

"Just say the word, and I will never approach the topic again, as well as attempt to quiet my thoughts about you. But if there is any part of you... deep inside you," Zemo paused, eyes grazing you up and down purposefully, before continuing, "that has any interest in being with me... I will do anything to bring that to fruition."

The ball was in your court now. You could tell him to get bent and never speak to you like this again… or you could get your rocks off, and maybe even get something more in return.

"Such as?"

"Name it, Schätzchen. Anything you want. A car, a mansion, jewels – say it and it's yours, if you will be mine," Zemo proposed earnestly, licking his lips quickly as he looked at you, visibly thrilled that he was getting somewhere with you.

You weren't the type to accept gifts from men you barely know, but… this was Zemo. A man who had done a great many terrible things, which soothed your guilty conscience. So, you said the first thing that came to mind.

"A car," you blurted out, then explained, "Mine broke down a week ago, and it's beyond repair, so… a car."

"Tell me the make and model of your preference and I'll have it delivered to your home within a week's time," Zemo said calmly, then brushed a lock of hair away from your face, before allowing his fingers to trail delicately along your cheek and jawline. "Is that all, Kätzchen?"

"No. One more thing," you replied, then looked at him sternly. "You must agree to never speak of this to Bucky or Sam."

"You have my word," he assured you, smiling in amusement.

"Then I'm yours."

Zemo's smile faded slowly, and he merely stared at you for a split second, before cupping your face in his hands and pulled you into a searing kiss, full of ferocity and sheer desperation. It shouldn't have been this easy, to kiss a man who's done such terrible things – yet here you were, melting into his embrace, allowing him to pull you into his lap and straddle him, your hands resting on his shoulders and gripping the black fabric of his turtleneck. His hands laid flat against your back as he kissed you in this new position, slowly gliding down, down your sides and to your hips. He kissed you in a way that was feverish and fast and hungry, as his fingers dug into your skin, holding you firmly against him as if he were fearful that this was all a dream and you'd disappear at any moment. Upon taking a peek into his mind, you realized that was actually exactly what he was thinking. Additionally, he mentally spoke to you directly, somehow knowing you were reading his thoughts at that moment.

"Tell me if I do anything that you do not like, and know that you have absolute freedom to end this at any given moment."

You pulled away slightly to nod in confirmation that you received his message, before resuming the kiss. Mind hazy and instincts taking over, you found yourself tugging his bottom lip between your teeth, earning a low groan from Zemo. One of his hands darted upwards to grab a fistful of your hair, right against your scalp at the base of your neck, and he pulled on it harshly, causing you to let out a wonton moan. He then laid that hand flat against the back of your neck, holding your lips firmly against his as he kissed you with even more fervor, and the other vacated its position on your hip to slide slowly up your torso, until he began palming your beast through your shirt. You moaned softly against his lips, but not as loudly as a moment ago.

Zemo wanted more, needed more; he longed to hear you loud and desperate. So he delved that hand at your neck back into your hair, gripping it tightly once more, and used it to pull your head backwards a bit, so that he could have better access to your neck. The action itself, and the tightness of his grip, earned an embarrassingly loud moan to escape your lips, and you felt him smile against your skin. He moved his hand to the middle of your back, supporting you as you leaned back a bit to grant him better access. As he littered your neck and décolletage with kisses, you felt him pull the neckline of your blouse down a little, then felt the sharp pain of a bite on your chest, above your breast. When you looked at him with narrowed eyes, he wore a cocky little grin.

"You should not be surprised, Liebling. I know you saw that I've been wanting to do that all day when you read my mind," he noted. "Wear a high neckline tomorrow, it will be fine."

Before you could respond, Zemo pulled you flush against his chest with that hand behind your back, and into another heated kiss. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, and without thinking, you ground your hips down on the bulge resting against your core beneath your skirt. He groaned, both hands flying to your hips to push them down again, guiding them as you repeated the action. It only took a minute or two of this before Zemo had enough, abruptly grabbing you by the throat and throwing you down onto the couch beside him. He then loomed over you, one hand propping himself up and the other applying slight pressure to your throat, gazing at you with admiration in those searing eyes, pupils blown wide from lust. You looked right back at him, pupils undoubtedly dilated as well, eyes half-lidded, panting a little, and hair a bit of a mess.

"You are an absolute vision," Zemo praised softly, to which you smiled, then he released his grip on your neck to lean down and kiss you again. That only lasted a moment, before he broke the kiss to pull your blouse up and over your head, tossing it carelessly to the side. Your bra joined it shortly after, then he moved to your skirt, fussing with the zipper for a moment, but it seemed to be caught on something, as it wouldn't budge. Before you could interject and state that you'd get the zipper yourself, Zemo ripped the seam apart with his hands, before tearing the article from your body and tossing it like he had with the blouse. A gasp escaped you, but you had no time to think much about his actions, before he was pulling off your panties and bra as well, dropping them somewhere beside the couch.

He was then looming over you again, kissing you breathless as he rested on one elbow while the other hand toyed with your nipple, his knee coming up to rest between your legs as he laid between your body and the back of the couch. You tangled your fingers in Zemo's hair, moaning against his lips as you sought friction against his leg. He smiled softly against your lips, before your hands wandered, finding the hem of his shirt and tugging it off of him. You had just managed to get his belt off before his hand left your breast, trailing downwards across your torso as he moved his knee further away from you, before delving between your hips and expertly locating your clit.

No longer capable of focusing on ridding Zemo of his clothes, your hands gripped his shoulders, and he hissed deliciously as your nails dug into his skin when he began rubbing small, methodical circles on your clit. Small moans fell from your lips as he watched the way your mouth hung open slightly, face relaxed and eyes closed as you enjoyed his work. But again, he wanted more, needed more. Still observing you, he delved his middle and ring fingers into your core, causing you to let out a loud gasp that faded into a long, low moan. Zemo smiled to himself. That was the reaction he was dying for.

He kissed you senseless, drinking in your moans and gasps of pleasure like wine, his free hand cradling the back of your head as your arms wrapped around his neck. It didn't take Zemo long to find that sweet spot, deep inside you – as he'd subtly alluded to earlier – that longed for his attention the most.

You couldn't help but moan loudly and cry out, "Fuck! Baron!" Zemo growled low in your ear, clearly a fan of your usage of his title as he picked up the pace, fucking you with his fingers with expert precision and speed, sending you hurtling over the edge with a string of curses in both Sokovian and English. By the time he removed his fingers from you and stood, you were seeing stars, breathing heavily as you laid flat against the couch. When your dazed gaze found him, he was naked from the waist down, and was just finishing rolling a condom over his length. You had no idea where he got it from, but you were way beyond giving a shit at this point. Zemo then rejoined you on the couch, roughly spreading your legs apart as he kneeled between them, looking at you with a primal, deep hunger in his eyes.

"You are certain that you want this?"

"Yes, please – fuck," you cut yourself off as he began rubbing your clit again.

"Yes please, what?" His voice was low, teasing, as he continued his work below. "I want to hear you say it again, Kätzchen."

"Yes, please, Baron."

"Good girl."

Zemo took your leg and rested your calf on his shoulder, before easing himself into you, agonizingly slow. You watched through half-lidded eyes as his brows furrowed together, his jaw went slack, and his eyes squeezed shut as he bottomed out. He was silent, but you very much preferred it when he was a bit vocal. So, you flexed your muscles down there, and he groaned, letting his forehead fall against your shoulder.

"Do not do that if you want this to last long," Zemo suggested through clenched teeth. You smiled to yourself, then said the magic word that you knew would get him going.

"Yes, Baron."

He growled again, right in your ear, then sat more upright to begin a harsh, quick pace of thrusting. His hips collided with your body each time, causing a delicious sort of pain, and he leaned down to lock you in a messy, deep kiss.

A few minutes later, Zemo moved your other calf to his shoulder as well, and the new position enabled him to get delectably deep inside you. You raked your nails down his chest, watching as a shudder ran down his spine, all the while releasing small, breathless moans and whimpers. When he opened his eyes again to gaze down at you, he licked his lips before delving both hands under your head and into your hair, and forcefully gripped two fitfuls of it at the base of your skull. The moan that tore its way from your throat was animalistic, as your nails dug into his forearms as you desperately gripped them from their positions on either side of your head. Just then, he hit a spot deep inside of you, and that familiar, tight coil in your lower belly began to form.

"Fuck! Right there, Baron, please, right there!"

"As you wish, Schätzchen."

Zemo began to thrust even faster, careful to maintain the same angle as he released his grip on your hair and leaned up a bit, so that he could resume rubbing your clit. Moans began to fall from your lips practically endlessly, and somehow, you still needed more. More, more, more. You took his free hand and laid it on your neck, and he instinctively wrapped his fingers around your throat, careful to apply pressure on the sides but not the front, as to avoid harming you. When he opened his eyes once again and looked down at you, he couldn't stop the moan that escaped him.

"You will be the death of me, mein Engel," Zemo whispered, seemingly more to himself. All you could do was moan in response.

"Baron, I'm going to – fuck – I'm —"

"Yes, come for me, Kätzchen. I want to feel you."

That was all the encouragement it took. Well, that plus how perfectly he was rubbing your bundle of nerves, and how his pace nor angle had faltered once since you had requested exactly that. You came undone again, legs shaking as your nails clawed at his shoulder blades, earning a series of groans from him. As you came down from your high, Zemo's hips began to falter, enthralled by the waterfall you had become, soaking the base of his cock as your walls squeezed around him. His hand at your wet heat abruptly moved to grip your hip, at the same moment his hand around your throat clutched at your hair again, and he met his end with a loud, gruff moan as he spoke a mantra of nonsensical praises and your name.

Zemo rested on his arms on either side of your head, and he let your legs fall to the sides of him, breathing hard against your neck as he occasionally peppered kisses there. He remained inside you for a few moments, savoring the feeling, before you chose to have a bit of extra fun by flexing your lower muscles and squeezing yourself around him again. With a sharp intake of breath, he pulled out of you, shooting you a glare.

In Sokovian, he murmured, "You are a naughty little thing."

"You adore it."

"That I do," Zemo conceded, then stood and walked off to the restroom. You heard the tap run, and a few moments later, he returned with a glass of water for you, sitting beside your feet on the couch and resting his heels on the coffee table. He was exceptionally handsome like this; still catching his breath, sweat glistening on his forehead and chest, a content look upon his face. You spent a minute or two admiring him, before he looked over to you, and a smile blossomed on his lips.

"I cannot thank you enough for that. I must admit, I spent countless nights alone in my cell, dreaming about getting to touch a woman like that again. Especially considering the fall of our country, I never could have imagined I would be lucky enough to lay with a stunning, intelligent Sokovian woman."

"In the spirit of confessions, it's been a while for me, too. My last boyfriend was about two years ago. And I'm not the one-night-stand type. So, do with that what you will," you stated, earning a small chuckle from Zemo. You sat up so that you were sitting beside him, instead of laying down, as you continued. "I fantasized about it a lot myself, but I never even dared to think my next time would be as good as this was."

Zemo smiled, a mix of pride and joy, then his smile softened as he leaned toward you, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. "This doesn't have to be our last time, you know. I would be honored to have you as often as you'd allow me to. And I assure you, I would make it worth your while. I will give you whichever vehicles your heart desires, more jewelry than you know what to do with, take you to the most beautiful places in the world, dine at only the finest restaurants – and above all, treat you like my queen. Take care of me, and I will take care of you, Liebling."

You allowed your curiosity to get the better of you, as usual when you feared that someone was lying to you. You searched his mind for any fraction of false pretenses, but there were none. The man simply found you intoxicating, and would do whatever it takes to keep drinking you in.

The arrangement wouldn't exactly be an easy one, nor would it be all that wise – nor morally correct, in all honesty. But he was undeniably sexy, and the danger and reprehensibility of it all made it that much more alluring. And besides all that – the way his power and wealth turned you on, how good he was capable of making you feel – most Sokovians were dead, and you missed home. Getting to speak your native tongue with him, chat about your country – it made you feel at home with him.

But you wouldn't give Zemo the satisfaction of agreeing to him that quickly.

“We'll see.”

—————

Part Two

[soulmate-game]

Not related to the other two Bio!mom Harley AUs that I did. Just... similar. I wrote this instead of sleeping, as per the usual.

—*—*—*—*—*

“I need your help.”

No accent, no threats of violence, no beating around the bush (figurative or otherwise). No fighting or unconscious bodies.

Just Harley Quinn with her hair down, no makeup, and completely serious, in the center of the Bat Cave. Even though her usual exaggerated Brooklynn accent (circa 1950s) had become a pretty inseparable part of her personality over the years, every now and then she forcibly stuffed it down and used her mostly unaccented voice. The one reminiscent of days with less colors on her face, a high bun, and a pristine white lab coat.

Every single one of the Bats and Birds present, fresh from an interrupted patrol thanks to her, could count the number of times they had seen Harley like this on one hand. Bruce would have the most recollections, but everyone else would have plenty of fingers left on said hand. So they all knew, especially when Bruce willingly pulled down his cowl so he could look Harley in the eye, that this was the start of something they were not likely to forget. And maybe their chances of survival were slim too.

“Harley,” Bruce’s voice was still gruff, seeing as he was still mostly Batman at the moment, but his eyes were soft. “Maybe you should tell us what you need help with first. And sit down. You look exhausted.”

Sure enough, there were dark circles under Harley’s eyes. She let Bruce-man lead her over to one of their debriefing tables and sit her down. She let out a huge sigh, her fingers tangling in her loose blond locks.

“I have a confession, and it isn’t gonna leave this cave, capiche?” The slight return of her accent relieved a little of the tension, but not much. Taking this as their cue, the rest of the bats spread out into their usual seats at the table. Bruce stayed near Harley, keeping a hand on her shoulder in silent support. Harley didn’t continue talking until he gave her a solemn nod in agreement. She gulped— an action that immediately returned the tension.

“... fifteen years ago, back when I was still with Joker, I disappeared off the Gotham scene for a few months. I’m sure a few of you remember,” she looked up, and a couple of the older vigilantes nodded. Really, Jason has still been Robin back then. But the memory stuck out in his head now that he was thinking about it.

“Yeah, you were breaking away from him a little bit, which was weird at the time,” Red Hood mused aloud, arms crossed. “I think you helped us out a couple times and did some of your first team ups with Ivy before you vanished. Then a few months go by and you were back in action with Joker, so we mostly ignored it as you just being you.”

Harley nodded. “Ah, my Ivy’s a lifesaver, even back then. She helped cover up the timeline by keeping me in action for longer than I should’a been without putting me at too much risk.”

“Timeline…” Red Robin spoke up, eyes huge even behind his mask. “You don’t mean—“

“Harley,” Bruce breathed, having also caught on. “You were pregnant?”

The air went still. Harley sniffed, eyes watering even as she smiled.

“Oh yeah. Shouldn’t have been possible, ya know? Me ‘n Joker being dumped in that damn acid should have made us both more sterile than an operatin’ room. But I knew I couldn’t raise a kid, so after she was born—“

“You kept her?” Damian interrupted, earning a gentle cuff over the head from Dick. Harley just snorted.

“Yeah. Not gonna lie, I thought about abortion. But the baby didn’t do nothin’ wrong, and I was still in love with Joker back then so I was ecstatic that I was able to make something new with part ‘a him in it. Still, I knew a baby didn’t deserve to be raised in Gotham. Especially not my baby, not with my enemies and history. Not with who her father was. I knew he’d never want her, never let me keep her. So I spent the last five months of my pregnancy lookin’ around for the best possible family to take her in. And I found them in Paris, France. A sweet couple, both of them bakers. Sabine, she’s both adorably sweet and super kickass. Comes from a Chinese family that is crazy about teachin’ their women martial arts. But nothing shady about it, I triple checked. Just bonding through kicking people in the face. Which is perfect, I wanted my baby to know how to defend herself. I knew she’d need those skills eventually. And Tom, that’s Sabine’s wife, he’s a gentle giant. Same size as Bane, but as harmless as a puppy and makes the best croissants ever. Seriously, the best.”

“Harley,” Bruce gently prodded, but there was a tiny grin on his face. Seeing her behaving so… so normally, so proud and reminiscent, was a rare treat. Bruce would be lying if he said he wasn’t proud of how far the woman had come. How she had freed herself and become a better person, mostly on her own.

“Right, right. The point,” Harley took a breath, rubbing her forehead. “I came clean to Tom and Sabine, but apparently they knew who I was the whole time. They just didn’t care— did I mention they are perfect? Anyway, once I explained everything, they agreed immediately to adopting my baby. They’d been wanting kids, but it would’a been too risky for Sabine’s health. That’s how I found them anyway, they were in the market to adopt. We named her Marinette. She took Tom and Sabine’s last names, hyphenated. We decided Quinn would be her middle name. And after that, I came back to Gotham and told myself that she was in good hands and I needed to forget about her. Cuz I was no good for her. I knew that. I went back to my old tricks. And then…” Harley chuckled, but it was self-depreciating.

“Then a few years passed, and I started breaking away from Joker for real. Then we broke up, I blew up Ace Chemicals while you guys were outta town doing Justice League and Young Justice shit. I started dating Ivy. And—“ she smiled softly at the table, clearly seeing something the rest of them couldn’t. “Then Ivy convinced me to go see her. Visit my baby, see how she’s been. And I did. Marinette was seven years old, but damn it to hell she was gorgeous. And say whatever you want about me and Joker— most of it will even be true— but neither of us are stupid. And she inherited all of our intelligence. All of it. She got my blue eyes. But she got his hair, which meant Sabine teased me relentlessly about ‘are you sure she isn’t that Wayne’s kid?’ And don’t make that face Bruce, you’d be lucky to have a kid half as beautiful as my Mari-pie. No offense, Damian. Anyway. Anyway, this is the important part. Or part of it.

“She sat there and listened to everything I had to say. Everything. A little seven year old, who could barely understand English at the time, and she listened without interrupting once. She never threw a fit, she wasn’t angry or confused. I told her about the things I’d done in the past— well, G rated versions— and she didn’t care. She called me Momma Harley right away, said she wanted to meet Aunt Ivy sometime soon, and started telling me everything about her that I’d missed. From that day on, she became my sunshine. The light of my life, and I still call her at least once a week every week. When I disappear for a few days out of the city? I’m visiting her—“

“You’re banned from international travel, Harley,” Dick scolded, but he sounded way too amused for it to work. He knew she had her ways, anyway. Nobody could actually stop Harley damn Quinn from doing whatever she wanted.

“—Ugh, she tells me the same thing every time! Disappointed glare and everything. I don’t know how I gave birth to such a goodie goodie, but somehow I did. Not important though! The important thing is, I’m always the first to hear when something new happens in her life. And we had decided that she wouldn’t visit me in Gotham until she was at least eighteen, but apparently she disobeyed me— which I should have expected honestly— and entered you guys’ WE international scholastic competition.”

“Oh no,” Bruce pinched the bridge of her nose. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng? The contest winner?” He finally pulled out a chair and sat down. “The winner gets an all-expense paid trip to Gotham for them and their whole class.”

“Exactly!” Harley threw up her hands. “Mari told me last week, and I’ve been trying to talk her out of coming ever since. But she’s inherited both of our stubbornness too, and she isn’t budgin’ a bit. ‘Momma Harley, I wanna see you and Auntie Ivy though!’ And ‘Momma, Gotham’s nothing I can’t handle,’ or my favorite, ‘Maybe you’ll finally get to see me dropkick someone three times my size then, and I’ll prove it.’”

“So that’s what you meant by you need our help,” Tim said as he leaned forward over the table. “Joker just broke out of Arkham yesterday. You want us to protect her.”

“I’d prefer if one of you was with her outside of the mask too, as often as possible,” Harley confirmed. “I can’t stop her from coming here anymore, but I also don’t trust Joker for a second. As soon as he sees her, I’m afraid he’ll make the connection.”

“She looks like him?” Damian asked, scrunching up his nose at the ugly mental image of Joker as a teenage girl. Harley shook her head, solemn.

“She looks like a dark-haired mini-me,” she corrected. “She even keeps her hair in pigtails as her way of showing support for me. And I know Marinette can kick ass, Sabine’s trained her well. But Marinette inherited more than I’d like from me,” Harley ran a hand through her hair. “I didn’t notice it until she was thirteen. She got a crush on a classmate, and it was almost like watching videos of me back during the early days of— well, of Harley Quinn. Just without the crime and insanity. She didn’t even realize that she was almost stalking the poor kid until I pointed it out, and luckily I was able to put my doctorate to good use and we nipped that right in the bud ASAP. She never meant it that way, anyway. As soon as I explained things to her, she was horrified and immediately asked me to help her learn how to have a healthy relationship. That was a fun discussion,” Harley grimaced. “But she still gets attached to people really, really easily. Once she grew out of her crush on that boy, she adopted him as her unofficial brother. She already calls Selina “Auntie,” even though I’ve barely mentioned her to Marinette. She gets attached fast, and deeply. And I’m afraid that even after all the warning I’ve done, all the stories I’ve told her—“

“You’re afraid she’ll get attached to Joker just like you did,” Bruce finished for her, closing his eyes. “Because she knows he’s her father.”

“Yes,” Tears were slowly dripping down her face already, her hands curled into fists so tightly that her knuckles were paper white. “You know how he is. If he finds out she’s his biological daughter, he’ll immediately try to take advantage of that. And he’s far too good with his words for people like me and Mari. I’m worried outta my mind. Please. Help keep my baby safe from him.”

“We will,” Jason no longer had his helmet on, or the domino mask that he usually wore underneath it. All of them knew masks were merely formality with Harley nowadays. And he needed to look her directly in the eye so she could see how serious he was. “I can sign up as a bodyguard for the class. It won’t be weird, seeing as they’re tourists and this is Gotham. They also have several rich kids in their group if I remember right.”

Bruce nodded, agreeing with Jason. “That’s a good idea. I can lead the class on their tours of WE personally. That’ll serve the purpose of keeping an eye on her and shutting up the investors that keep begging me to make more public appearances for the sake of the company. Marinette’s name is already released to the news as the winner of the contest, so we can’t keep her out of the spotlight long. Tim, you’ll have to keep an eye on any and all pictures of the class. Try to erase or doctor the images with her in it well enough that connections between her and Harley can’t be easily made. Dick, you and Damian will be in charge of keeping an eye out for any activity from Joker. The slightest hint, and you notify all of us. We’ll decide on a case-by-case basis who is necessary to stick with the class and who goes after the clown.”

“She’s gonna sneak out of her hotel to stay with me and Ivy,” Harley admitted, bringing the (now slightly judgemental) attention back to her. She raised her hands up in surrender. “She didn’t tell me that, and I didn’t approve or suggest it! I just know my baby too well to not realize that that’s her plan. Could ya provide an escort?”

Bruce sighed. “This is gonna be an eventful month.”

[rebelrayne]

full name Youcef Nassiri (II)

name history Youcef originally had his father’s last name, Laurent but his mother helped him change it before attending university. Although a long and lengthy process, he was more than happy to do it. He changed his last name to his mother’s.

birthdate August 3, 1994

zodiac Leo (thank you Mia & Frankie for the help here!)

height 6'1" (source: avg height for male runway models)

personality ISTJ The Logistician

hometown Paris, France

languages spoken French, English, some Italian

sexuality Pansexual

pronouns He/Him

family

- Samira Nassiri (Mother) - unnamed father (never cared to know his name but knows his last name was Laurent) - Layla Abdel (maternal grandmother) - Youcef Nassiri (maternal grandfather - named after him) - No Siblings debatable - in one sentence, his mom had a lot of hungry mouths to feed but in another, he said his mom relied heavily on her parents to raise him (singular as if only child)

color White (duh)

food his mum's maakoudas

designer Christian Louboutin - 100% all about the shoes

place to visit Singapore

music Techno, weirdly enough.

movie 'Amour' because under it all, he's a sweet romantic

childhood memory Learning how to do woodwork from his grandfather. You wouldn't know it, but he's decently handy. He just doesn't want to do the dirty work.

sweet or salty Sweet for sure. Definitely has a sweet tooth but really, really limits himself on it.

coffee or tea Coffee. He's a double shot of espresso kind of guy on Monday morning after a long weekend.

take out or dine out Neither. He's cooking for you.

call or text Call. He's old-fashioned and he's giving full attention.

date night out or in IN. There's plenty to do at his place.

car Tesla Model X - the exterior is black but the interior is white.

You have never seen a car look more organized. It still smells new and it's three years old. There's a compartment for everything and he has an organized basket in the rear for every kind of emergency you can think of - fashion emergencies that is.

his place Huge flat in London - Canon we know he does not live in Paris anymore, he responds to Bruno asking if the Islanders think it's raining back home with: "Ugh, I'd bet on it. Britain is so wet."

His place is immaculate. You can't find a speck of dust anywhere. His taste is minimalistic, everything is black and white but mostly white. He hates clutter, can't stand when things are left in the wrong place, or if something is left out. His flat always smells like it was cleaned that day, lemon and fresh scents fill the air. Has one of those fancy TVs that look like a picture frame. Everything has a purpose. He has a huge walk-in closet that is even equipped with an island in the middle. Has a second walk-in closet that's empty because he hopes for someone special to use it one day. His bed is always made, but even though he likes things to look aesthetically pleasing, he does not have throw pillows on his bed.

1 If you stay at his place, you're not getting up until noon. There are some things he wants to share with you. Even after that though, you're not getting up. He's making you breakfast and coffee, and a shirt to borrow to come to the kitchen in.

2 He wants to show you off, especially at the events he has to go to. He'd take you to a rather exclusive boutique to pick out a new outfit. Whatever you want, don't look at the price. He'll swipe the card as long as you feel gorgeous in it.

3 Not afraid of spiders. He'll take care of those. (Canon, too!)

4 He might be a smooth talker, but he's a helpless romantic at heart; once he finds someone he's fallen for, he's not straying. As long as you'll have him, he'll be there to support you.

5 He loves a good party as much as the next model, but his favorite thing to do on the weekend is cook, go to the market and catch-up with his mom on Sundays by phone.

6 If he was going to propose, he'd arrange for her best friend to take her for a spa day (all the stops: massage, nails, facials). Although he isn't keen on lying, he'd tell her they're going to an event so she could pick out an outfit she loves. He's doing it when she's turned around and not paying attention so when she turns back, he's down on one knee. 1.5-carat diamond ring, princess cut, of course.

[hwrryscherry]

The one where model Y/N is attacked in Paris.

blurb: Harry and Model Y/N are in Paris for Fashion Week 2020 earlier this year. To celebrate her first time walking for Gucci, Harry decides to take her out for a dinner date when a crazy youtube prankster attacks her while leaving the restaurant and Harry get furious as standing up to defend his girl.

word count: 3.5K

warning: rude and disrespectful attitude, invasion of personal space, violence, anxiety attack quote. DON’T read it if you feel uncomfortable.

author’s note: HIII, I know this took me a while. I was working on it when I got a cold and just couldn’t think of anything to finish writing this, but I’m much better now for god’s sake. I’d like to apologize with whoever requested this for taking such a long time to post it and say a huge thank you or requesting this too! This is completely inspired by what happened to Gigi Hadid in 2016(I guess) and I remember seeing this video and thinking why someone would do that, also, Gigi said once that the guy was lucky Zayn wasn’t with her sooooo I guess I just think Harry would be so furious because even though he’s a very chill guy, his girl safety and well being is the one thing that matters the most to him.

gigi’s video for the ones who didn’t see it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IjsPmjqmcvs

       February 27th, 2020

   Today was the first time that you ever walked for Gucci, and it was amazing, you were beyond happy because getting where you are today being a short model and only being 22 years old it's something to be proud of. It hasn't been easy all the time but you were slowly making your way to the top and that's more than enough. And you were highly grateful for Harry either, of course you walked Gucci's show because of your talent and hard working and no one doubted that, but Harry did a important role in your newest contract with Gucci because you met the team because of him and his Gucci obsession. But anyway, the fashion show was amazing, and you had Harry on the crowd cheering for you all the time and God, he was so proud! He couldn’t even handle himself. He was recording everything and even got up when you did the catwalk next to him as he kept taking multiple pictures. If you have to be real, almost 90% of those pictures looked really bad because he wasn't focusing on the phone but he also wanted to register this moment and when you'd look through them later you'd actually laugh because most of them had a very blur image.

    When the fashion show ended, he had to congratulate you backstage. As you were starting to take off your outfit, you listened to your boyfriend's rough voice making you turn around to face him and see the biggest smile on his face, you could clearly see his dimples on the side of his cheek. He walked over to you instantly wrapping his strong arms around your figure hugging you so tight that you were even afraid that he would get the feat of ruining the rest of clothes you still had on.

— You were so great, I'm so pround of you! — Harry said on a low tone next to your ear before breaking the hug and looking carefully to your face. You had this crazy green eyeshadow that were halfway gone by now which caused him to chuckle — I love your eye look, it looks fabulous! — Harry said making you bend over to stare at the mirror behind you only realizing now you haven't finished taking off your makeup yet. You stand straight again giving him a mocking expression as you grabbed the makeup wipe you were using from the makeup table behind both of you.  

— I know, I'm thinking about wearing this everywhere because it's just really fashion! — you ironically said taking a smirk out of him as you turned around sitting on the chair in front of the mirror so you could have a sight of how you're makeup were doing — But thank you, you know I appreciate it!

— I do! And that's why I'll congratulate you by taking you out for dinner tonight! — Harry said walking towards you resting his hands on both of your shoulders squeezing them gently as he bends over giving you a small kiss on your neck.

— Oh, like a dinner date? — You'd ask with a smirk on as you felt goosebumps on your kiss with his little kiss.

— Exactly like a dinner date! And later, we can have our own private celebration! — He'd say with a  smirk on his lips as you finished taking your makeup off — What d' you think? Sounds good? — He asked you and you nodded at him and just some minutes later you both were out stage going back to your hotel in Paris. Harry called Jeff and asked him if he could make a reservation for both of you for tonight around 8 pm and he glady did, so as it was already 6 pm and as you both were probably the one couple in the world who takes the longest to get ready, you'd come back to the hotel and started getting ready already.

    Jeff made an appointment for both of you to go to Le Cinq restaurant which is located near the Eiffel Tower and Arc of Triumph. You absolutely loved Paris at night, for some reason it seemed more magical and interesting to you. The weather, the lights, the fashion and the language that you learned to master well through the years warmed your heart whenever you’d go there. When you were a child, you got used to always hearing your mom tells you:’’whenever you’re in love, go to Paris’’, and for this reason Paris was one of the first places where you and Harry traveled together as couple. Harry didn’t use to travel a lot for by the way. MOst of the time, he used to travel for work, so this changed a lot since you started dating because you love to travel. You’ve always been a free spirit person, the kind of person that goes wherever the winds takes you so with the time Harry became like this too as you started taking him to do the craziest things on the craziest places around the world.

    You felt the car slower it’s velocity as it got closer to the front of the restaurant, and you both could see by the window that the front was packed. As it was Paris Fashion Week, there were a lot of celebrities in the city and usually, fans settled in front of popular places around the city hoping they’d have a chance to meet their favorite celebs and even though you were already used to crowds at this point of your life, they’d still make you a little nervous, especially when it was in places not well known to you like a city you don’t live on.

— You’ll have to guide me because these shoes are really high and I don't want to step on anyone's feet — You said to Harry while putting your phone in the small black Prada bag you carried with you with your head down looking carefully to it because you’ve lost the count of how many times you thought you had put the phone inside your bag and you didn’t.

— It's alright! Hold my hand because there are a lot of people here! — Said Harry bringing his left hand up to your face to put a lock of hair of yours that fell in your face behind your ear and you nodded to him. Harry was really protective over you, and he has been that way since the beginning of your relationship. He’d always put your safety first anytime you’d go out together. When it was his about his concerts, you’d usually discuss about the fact that you want to be in the audience and he wants you to be backstage. It’d taken you a few minutes to convince him that everything was going to be fine, but it would also have days that it didn’t matter how much time you try to convince him he’d beg you to stay backstage so he could be relaxed during the performance. But you were grateful for him being that way, you were grateful that he cared so much about your well being because you know exactly how much some relationships can be destructive and you felt lucky to have someone this good in your life. Of course he wasn’t perfect, neither of you were but who is? He tried his best and that’s what matters the most.

    But anyway, Harry held your hand tightly and opened the car door, immediately feeling the camera’s flashes burning your faces and listening to some fans starting to shout. Harry’s bodyguards got between both of you and the crowd guiding your way to the entrance of the restaurant and you felt the heat from the crowd instantly even though the weather in Paris was only 59°F, it’d feel lot warmer until you entered the place. And that is one special kind of a place, The decoration was perfectly splendid, gorgeous and marvelous if you must say. The touches of gold and light blue mixed with the yellow coloration of lights and the spectacular french food scent brought a cozy and elegant vibe.The restaurant was a little full, nothing out of the common and you observed the many different sizes of tables and the groups of people in it.

    You both were taken to your table that was located next to the windows but wasn’t actually on the windows at it still had people outside and it feels weird to eat with people watching you. Anyway, Harry as the gentleman he is pulled the chair for you as he always did even though you had told him there’s no need for that. You both ordered glasses of your favorite white wine, neither of you were heavy drinkers but as it was a celebration it was much needed. The date happened naturally, just as all the laughing, talking and even gossips. This the casual couple gossip that you two would have, but it happened naturally. None of you ever felt like you had to pretend to be anybody else except yourself around each other.

    During the night, Harry would get lost in your face admiring your features while you’re talking. He would admire the way your eyebrows move when you’d change expressions, the way your eyes would form a very tiny line when you tried to see something that was away from you, he’d admire your smile and the sound of your laugh anytime you’d remember of something funny or he’d tell you something funny and he’d think of how lucky he is to have you, because even though he knows that sometimes he can be a pain in the ass(just as you can too) , you’re very lucky to have one another and to have someone who would make you feel this great and free about who you are. Because who you are is exactly who you need to be. Of course both of you believes that changing and envolving it’s the most important thing to do and sometimes you’d be surprised to see how much you both grew from the beginning of your relationship until today and that would bring smile to your faces. He feels lucky to be able to call you his girl, and god you loved when he’d do it. You loved when he was about to present you to someone and say ‘’This is my girl Y/N’’, it’d cause you to open a big smile because it felt natural. You’re his and he’s yours, period.

    When you both decided it was time to call it a night Harry paid the check against what you wanted because you wanted to pay this time. You’d honestly hate to have people paying for you, and this would usually be a point of discussion between you and Harry. You don't know why but you hate it, and it's just the gentleman in Harry wanting to spoil his girl again and again until he get tired of doing it, but he never does.

   You were about to leave the restaurant when Harry slid his right hand around your waist bringing you closer to him very calmly to kiss your cheek.

— I know you want to say hi to everyone but just walk to the car, alright? — He'd lowly talk next to your ear making you look at him with a serious expression — It's for your safety, love! It's late now, and we don't know who's there. — And he was right, it was past midnight now and there were still some people out there. How can they stand there in this cold weather? But anyway, you agreed with him as you both walked your way to outside. You felt flashes again, blinding flashing lights making you look to the ground as Harry held his hand on the back of your back guiding you to the car.

    As you walked towards the car, you felt a small hand touch your arm and you looked over to see a little girl with probably 12 or 13 years. She pursued tired eyes, and your heart ached with just the thought of keeping walking back to the car because you had no idea of how much time she’s been outside waiting for you so you stopped walking and bend down a little to get close to her height which made Harry stops walking immediately looking a little surprised but he understood when he saw you taking a picture with the little girl and how your face lightens up after it. You asked her what was her name and her age and she answered that her name was Lily and she was 13 she told you that she wants to be a model just like you when she grows older and that melted your heart. You smiled at her and told her that she could do whatever she wanted to and told her that when she grows up and becomes a model, you’d love to walk a show with her. When you’d stand up again you saw Harry looking at you with a small smile on his lips. He couldn’t deny he loves your kindness to every person in the world. It made his heart happy to know that he’s with someone with the same life philosophy than him. So he turned around to open the car door for you when you felt two strong arms wrap around your waist lifting you up and you froze.

— What the fu... — You'd shout before starting to hit him on his arms with your elbows as you'd move your legs trying to kick him with your heels. You'd feel flashes on your face and heat on your body increasing. It was the adrenaline and you were furious at this point. — Get...Off...Me — You'd shout as you'd hit his face with your elbows as well, Harry looked over to you and stormed out. He'd swear he'd never been like this in his life, he'd basically run to behind the guy's back and put his arm around his neck, Harry'd give him a punch right in the middle of his back and a slightly kick on the back of his knee to destabilise the guy which put you free by the moment he started to fall. Harry's bodyguard would hold you immediately trying to push you away from the crowd as you looked at Harry pushing the guy away from you.

— What the fuck were you doing? — Harry'd shout right into the man's face and watch as the man started to walk away from the crowd but Harry would go after him. Harry swears to god he couldn't even feel his body at the time. He was completely numb, moved by adrenaline and all he wanted to do was to beat the shit out of that man. — WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? — Harry'd shout walking after him getting no response which just made him angrier. At that time he didn't care about the cameras or whoever was watching him, he couldn't calm down when someone threated his girl safety and personal space. It didn't even need to be you. If he saw anyone threatening a woman's safety, he'd freak out in anger.

   You felt the bodyguards strong hands trying to push you away from the situation because that's what Harry would want him to do. He tried walking you towards the car, but you were reluctantly screaming for Harry because he could get himself hurt if he didn't come back to the car now. The other bodyguard walked after Harry grabbing him by the arm and Harry turned over to look at him with so much anger on his look and you'd swear you never saw him like this but then he did started walking over to you again.

   You finally entered the car and closed the door. You felt in panic. Basically paralyzed, you felt your anxiety attacking and your hands shaking. You could literally hear your heart beating so fast and loud that it scares you.

— Go get him! Follow him to hell. I don't care! Take him to the police office! — You'd listen to Harry talks firmly to his bodyguards as he opened the car's door and entered in it. He took a deep breath and turned his face to look at you. His heart broke at that moment. You were a mess. You couldn't even feel the tears leaving your eyes, but he did see them. He saw your hands shaking and how scared your eyes looked and at that moment all of his anger left his body — Love... — He'd sigh getting closer to you while wrapping his arms around your now-fragile figure. He could feel your entire body shaking on his arms. He caressed your hair with one of his hands as he hugged you tight to calm you down. He'd look to the driver and make a sign for him to start driving back to your hotel — Are ya okay? You're hurt? Did he hurt you? — He'd talk on a calm tone squeezing you a little on his arms. You'd lift your head up to look at him with red wet eyes shaking your head to him.

— I'm sorry! — You'd say lowly. He did tell you to walk straight to the car, and you didn't listen to him.

— It's not your fault, love! — He'd say wiping some of your tears and then carefully kissing both of cheeks — Don't worry about it, everything's gonna be fine, alright? It's okay!

   You'd spent the rest of the ride in silence. A comfortable silence. You'd be laying your head on his shoulder while holding his head getting your breathing and heart back to normal and your phones would start buzzing with notifications of what happened but none of you would see it, not now.

   When you got to your hotel, you'd get out of the car in the garage. You'd both walk slowly to the elevator and slowing to your room. You entered the room going directly to the king sized bed and throwing yourself in it because you felt like getting in a coma and just waking up to a time where all this drama would go away. Harry'd walk towards you and sit in bed beside you. He'd put both of his hands on your shoulders massaging them slowly.

— I'll prepare you a bath, so you can relax a little before sleeping, how's that sound? — He'd say trying to cheer you up a little bit.

— Sounds great, thank you love! — You'd turn your head to look at him with a forced smile on your lips. Harry'd bend down to kiss your hair line before leaving to the bathroom.

   He'd try his best to make you feel the most comfortable to sleep tonight. He'd prepare you a bath. He'd give you a message, he'd brush your hair for you but actually, he loves to do that. He loves to brush your hair before you go to bed, it was more like a routine for you both. He loves to feel your long locks on his fingers and to feel the sweet scent of it. He'd cuddle you until you fall asleep too, he'd even be the big spoon tonight so you could sleep on his chest breathing his perfume because he hoped that'd make you have a good night of sleep.

   And after you did, he'd look on the things on his phone. All the posts about you being attacked in Paris and him beating the guy who did it were just too much and he felt sorry that you'd have to see and read all of those stuff as soon as you unblock your phone. A lot of your friends texted him asking what happened and if you were ok. He'd answer the closest ones only, like his mom and Gemma, your mom, Bella and Jeff. He didn't know what you'll decide about the next fashion shows you had to walk, but he also knows that no one would blame you if you just chose to come back home in NYC.

  Harry didn't sleep at that night at all, he couldn't stop looking for what happened and why it happened. The next day, it was everywhere in the media and later you'd found out that the guy was a youtuber and he was making a prank when he posted his stupid youtube vlog with "I pranked Harry Styles's girlfriend and he punched me" as a title. You'd sue him for sure. You don't like taking those kind of actions, but it was necessary, he had to understand that you cannot disrespect people like this, specially people you don't know.

  After that you'd probably understand why Harry is so protective over you and Harry would actually get ten times more protective, if I had to be honest. But as the time passed by and quarantine came you both would leave it behind and move on with your life because in the end of the day you both will still have one another.

[perssuassive]

( mason gooding; genderfluid ; he/they ; got my mind set on you by sharaya summers ) hey, look! isn’t that MARCEAU BOUCHER? the 26/207 year old VAMPIRE is known to be DYNAMIC and OBSESSIVE. they’ve been in town for TWO WEEKS and always remind me of a party that’s gone on a little too long, crumpled up and discarded love poems, sharp teeth skating along a bottom lip, feelings gone unspoken. let’s hope they survive what’s to come. ( @ashwickstarters )

this is my newest son marceau (mars) and let’s say... he’s also messy JHDBJHD CW: CAR CRASH, HISTORICAL TREATMENT OF BIPOC (neither discussed in great detail!!)

STATISTICS

NAME. marceau boucher NICKNAME. mars GENDER  /  PRONOUNS. genderfluid  /  he & they SEXUALITY. bisexual FACECLAIM. mason gooding AGE. two-hundred seven PLACE OF BIRTH. french louisiana (new france) DATE  OF  BIRTH.  november 20th ZODIAC. scorpio HAIR  COLOR. dark brown EYE  COLOR. brown HEIGHT. 6′2 + TRAITS. dynamic, magnetic, gregarious, extroverted, adventurous, determined - TRAITS. obsessive, jealous, impulsive, secretive, stubborn, dramatic, codependent

HISTORY

marceau boucher’s story started before he was even a thought in his mother’s head. marceau’s maternal grandfather was a freedman who had moved his family to new france, where they acquired a farm to sustain themselves. their mother grew up entrenched in cajun culture, learning french before the english her father spoke. life was never perfect, but it was better than others had. that was—until the year of 1803. she was only thirteen when napoleon bonaparte sold all of the louisiana territory to the united states, the same country her father had fled all those years before. 

once again, they would flee, only this time across oceans. paris, france had been heralded as a safe haven for african americans. it was in paris, for the first time in his long life, that marceau’s grandfather stopped looking over his shoulder every other second. it was in paris that marceau’s father would meet their mother, where the two would have a quiet wedding and a child. paris shaped marceau—the first fifteen years of his life were chaotic, the monarchy desperately fighting for its crown back. once they did claim the crown, life in the eastern district grew even more chaotic, as famously described by victor hugo. 

at twenty-five years old, spurned by the city that had so lovingly welcomed his mother thirty years before, marceau took up arms. it was during an early revolutionary riot that marceau was nearly trampled and saved by a mysterious stranger. long since disenchanted with their life, it took very little for them to be swept up in the romance of this stranger. see, they lived the life of le bohéme, of art and poetry and love. not only had this stranger saved marceau’s life, but they showed them an entirely new one. marceau didn’t even flinch when the stranger revealed their true nature and offered him a piece of it. 

of course, as it seemed to be so common then, not long after marceau’s change did their sire disappear. lucky for marceau, they could fit in anywhere, and soon they were living the life they’d once wished for. still, they swore they would never do what their sire had done to them. no, he would be loyal to his sirelings for life.

once the americas were more welcoming to folks like him, he found himself drawn back to the place his mother had come from. they traveled from place to place, too restless to stay anywhere for too long. it was during this listless travel that marceau (now going by mars in the modern age) met oz. to this day, mars insists that meeting was their third birth (first, human. second, vampire. third, oz’s). they kept their nature a secret, growing infatuated with the delicate human with strange sensibilities and even stranger acquaintences. of course, they planned to turn ozwalt sooner rather than later, but the choice was taken out of their hands when oz got into a fatal car crash. since then, oz has insisted he hates mars for everything between them, but mars is still convinced they’re soulmates. recently, mars has come to ashwick not only interested in the invincibility promised, but to once again be close to oz.

mars is far from the “appropriate” vampire one might expect from today’s media. they frequently indulge themselves in supernatural delights—expect no “vegetarian” vampire here.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

vampires he met throughout history!! esp french ones (maybe they know his sire?)  a witch they met for daytime enchantments and liked enough to stick around party friends!! an old fling they dropped to chase oz (bitter exes maybe?) a friend that just doesn’t understand mars’s continued interest in oz (a realist, trying to help mars to see oz hates them maybe???) someone who can see past mars’s immatureness and wants to help him with the trauma he still carries from his time as human and many many more !!!

[minxystories]

Nightly Tea

This one is abit longer than usual, so have fun reading!

@panyum

Unlike usual, it was quiet in the building. The lights were out and the night spread its darkness through the hallways like wings. The only noise were careful steps. She didn’t want to wake anyone up, they all deserved a peaceful night of sleep. However, sleep couldn’t come for her once more. She was tired, but lying in her bed for hours on end didn’t help. So at last, Sammy could only quietly leave her room and wander around the building.

A shiver ran down her spine and she pressed the stuffed bunny closer to her chest. As tips of her fingers turned a sickly blue, her curse showed its ugly head again. In hindsight, she shouldn’t have gone on all of those gathering missions, but they needed the materials, so she had barely any choice. Her hands buried themselves in the soft fabric of the plush animal as her steps hastily echoed through the halls.

Maybe she could make something to drink, a tea or maybe some hot milk. No coffee, that would only make her situation worse. While the warmth of the drink couldn’t outlast her curse, the relaxing taste and momentarily heat makes the trip worth it. Her journey quickly lead her to the kitchen. A cabinet was opened, a teabag stolen and the kettle turned on. The bunny quietly sat on the counter, watching its owner at work.

Sammy was just about to reach for a mug when something brushed against her back and fell to the floor. The teabag was gone in a flash, being burned by a small burst of flames. The magic sparked between her fingers as she turned around. But just before she could summon her staff, she noticed the big heap of fur. It was dirty with mud, but you could still recognize its blue color.

A sight escaped her lips as she identified the wolf. A grumble came from the big animal as Sammy sat close to him on the ground and started to run her fingers through his usually fluffy coat.

“Pray tell Lobo, what did you do this time?”

Another grumble and a soft laugh from Sammy. With a burst of courage, she laid her hands on his back and just messes with the dirty fur. Quickly, the avenger turned his snout to her and growled playfully, but Sammy was already standing again, preparing her tea once more.

“You know you don’t have to scare me like that. I’m glad I only burned the teabag and nothing majorly important.”

This time she got no answer. Instead Lobo just stared at her critically. While he obviously didn’t like how she messed with his fur, he also didn’t do anything expect the growl, so she didn’t seem to have overstepped the boundary. After putting the teabag and water in the mug, she turned back to her servant. At the sight of his muddied pelt, she returned his critical stare with one of her own.

“We’ll have to wash you later.”

He gave her an irritated growl and distaste was clear in his eyes. Neither Lobo nor Sammy liked those days when the wolf needed to be washed. It was the one thing both agreed upon, even though their reasoning were wildly different. The girl just rolled her eyes and sat back down again, leaning her back against his side.

“I don’t like it either, but if we don’t wash you, the staff will complain about muddy paw prints again. If it would make things more comfortable for you, then I can ask Paris for help.”

The tail of the big animal moved from side to side in a slow manner, showing both his excitement for the small Archer, as well as his tiredness. A giggle left the blond girl as she watched her friend. She leaned further back into his fur, relaxing and closing her eyes. Talking with the canine made her more tired, so maybe she might be able to sleep now.

However, this hope was quickly destroyed. As she opened her eyes again, she was somewhere else. A pathway into a forest stretched before her. The trees were green, giving the forest a lively look. It seemed to be spring. For a second she thought she was dreaming, but that illusion was broken in a matter of seconds. An angry voice called a name. A name she couldn’t understand, the sound being dampened enough to be indistinguishable. But she knew exactly who's name he called.

Panic filled her as her body began to move, running along the path, deeper into the forest. Her legs were shorter than usual, her body smaller, so running away was even harder. It didn’t take long before the voice grew louder and heavy steps followed her. Despite the little distance between her and the man, she still couldn’t understand what he was yelling. But knowing this man from her previous visions, she could guess it is for her own good that he seemed to speak gibberish. The closer he came, the colder the air around her got. Her limbs started to hurt, burning from the cold. The surroundings changed as well, slowly turning into a muddy fall forest. Everything seemed dead and the ground became more slippery than before.

It was hard to run on the mud, her feet slipping with every step. The voice of the man became so loud, it seemed to ring in her head. Thinking became harder, resulting in her not paying enough attention to her surroundings.

Everything came to a stop as the ground disappeared, giving way to water. The river seemed calm, a total opposite to her inner turmoil. For a handful of second, she could see a reflection in the water. Instead of ashen blond strands, the hair of the girl in the reflection was a fiery red. It was hard not to recognize Giselle as the girl. It immediately validated her suspicion.

This wasn’t a nightmare.

It was another vision of Giselle’s live.

A wet feeling on her cheek brought her back to reality. Instead of leaning on Lobo, she was now lying on her back, the avenger standing beside her. The dark kitchen was illuminated by blue flames that danced across the ground, whispering and giggling among themselves. Her cheeks were wet and her back hurt. The avenger seemed to have stood up as the flames appeared and in turn, her back met the floor. Slowly, the girl sat up, her body shacking from what she saw. Adrenalin still flew through her system, allowing her to stand up, albeit a big struggle. Her hands pressed against the counter, trying to find some sort of help to stay on her feet. Lobo watched her and walked closer, a soft whine escaping his throat. It was oh so different from the growl and scowl, it would have made her giggle under different circumstances.

“I’m fine…”

It was an obvious lie. Quickly she reached for the plush animal, pulling it towards her and burying her face in its fur.

“I’m absolutely fine…”

A sob wrecked her body. Her words were muffled by the toy and she pressed her face further into the fabric, hiding from the world. The flames quieted down, stopping their whispers and observing the girl. The cup of tea was long forgotten, slowly losing its warmth. Lobo couldn’t give her any comforting words like the other servants. So instead, he gave her his company and softly pressed his snout against her side, hoping it would give her some sort of comfort.

[fumbling-fanfics]

People Person - Lewis Tan x Reader...

So this is a little drabble that is based off of something myself, @dc41896​ and @my-rosegold-soul​ were saying about Mr Tan.

Pairings: Lewis Tan x Reader

Note reader is POC in this and all my fic’s.

Warnings: None, just a cute little drabble with Lewis 

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Lewis knows everyone.

He knows everyone in LA. Everyone is Bangkok. Everyone in Thailand. Everyone in Shang-hi. Everyone in New York. London. Paris. You’re pretty sure he knows everyone, in every city of the world.

While it’s sweet that he takes the time to stop and talking to everyone and anyone, it sometimes gets in the way of simple tasks. Like going out to eat.

Rather than staying cooped up in the hotel room you and Lewis manage to get out of the tangled bed sheets, shower and get dressed. You suggest exploring the city streets at night for something to eat rather than room service. You’d been too busy making up lost time with Lewis that you hadn’t eaten since you boarded the plane almost 12 hours before and you were starting to get hangry.

“I know just the perfect spot” Lewis smiles, as he hugs you in the lift. His grin relieves your face of the hangry frown. You’re excited now, because apart from knowing everyone, everywhere. Lewis also knows every restaurant, everywhere.

As you wonder the streets to your destination Lewis walks with you tucked under his arm pointing out to places and spots along the way, telling you a story or a fact. You snap some pictures too. The sights, Lewis, you & Lewis. You need to show your friends some pictures, rather than just the hickey’s on your skin.

After waiting a while to snap a picture with less people and more of what Lewis has pointed out to you, you turn to find Lewis further down the street. He’s embracing another person. And when they separate, they look equally shocked and excited to see each other. Your picture done, you catch up to them both.

“Dude! How long has it been, like forever!” Lewis exclaims taking off his sunglasses as if he cannot believe the person standing in front of him is real.

The guy chuckles as he shakes his head. They launch into a game of tag with stories and old memories, you gain more knowledge about Lewis. Sharing the laughter.

Lewis is cute when he is excited, more animated, eyes wide, hands waving around as he talks. He also gets forgetful.

“Oh crap, sorry, this is my girlfriend y/n. Y/n this is Adam” Adam softly shakes your hand as you exchange “Hello’s”.

Adam and Lewis both disappear into conversation, and your stomach growls. It’s so loud you’re surprised neither guys hear it, even over the night time noise.

Not wanting to be rude and abruptly interrupt you slowly move closer to Lewis, who while telling Adam a recent casting story, slips his arm around your waist as you slip your arm around his.

“You gotta see this” Adam pulls out his phone, unlocks his screen and proceeds to play a video. With his arm still around your waist Lewis leans in closer to Adam, leaving space for you too. You don’t really pay attention. Instead to lightly tug on Lewis’ jacket, like an impatient child wanting their parent to stop talking to whoever they have just bumped into. You lean in, closer to Lewis. “I’m hungry” you whisper into his ear.

Adam’s phone suddenly rings, the video being replaced with a colorful screen with a vibrating icon of a phone receiver, he excuses himself to take the call.

“I don’t want to be that annoying girlfriend but when can we go eat. I’m literally about to faint” Lewis chuckles deeply, his fingers slipping under you jacket and top to rub against your skin.

“You can even invite Adam, he seems to have some interesting stories I’d like to hear” you grin.

“You’d love that wouldn’t you” Lewis grabs a quick kiss from you turning his attention back to Adam as he says ‘Goodbye’ to whoever called him.

“Adam were about to grab something to eat, you wanna join? Y/n is dying to hear some more stories” Lewis offers.

Adam turns to you with grin. “Do you know about the time Lewis ended up naked in front of a group of over 75’s for one of those still life drawing class having to explain that tattoo of his” Adam laughs.

“What! No” Adam’s face lights up as you laugh.

“Maybe not that one” Lewis blushes, tickling you slightly under your top.

“Maybe another time anyway, I gotta get to this meeting with my agent, but let’s swap numbers and I’ll call you tomorrow” Both guys exchange phone numbers and then you all say bye.

In an effort to dodge questions about the still life class Lewis whisks you through the streets to the restaurant, promising to finish his tour on the way back to the hotel.

Of course Lewis knows the guy seating people in the restaurant. You’re not even surprised when the chef comes out to see Lewis. The chef says he’ll go off menu for you both, and you’re not disappointed.

You’re stuffed, almost too full. You almost don’t noticed half the restaurant staff leaving when you and Lewis do. Night is dawn, the sky slowly getting lighter. By the time you both get back to the hotel all you can do is strip off your clothes and fall into bed. Lewis hangs the do not disturb sign on the door, and you sleep until just gone 10am, but don’t actually leave the bed until past noon.

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Tag list: @ellixthea @lovelymari4 ​ @honeychicana @beaminglife @amelatonin @themyscxiras​ ​ @crushed-pink-petals @my-rosegold-soul​ ​ @dc41896​ ​ @lady-olive-oil @jojolu @endless00paradise @est1887 @cajunpeach @melinda-january @profoundlynerdywolf​ ​ @deathonyourtongue @designerwriterchic @itsbqueenthings​ ​ @alicesfracturedmirror @autumnsoidier​ ​ @melinda-january ​ @laketaj24​ ​ @nanoo972​ ​ @mauvecherie​ ​ @chaneajoyyy​ ​ @mbaku-babygirl​ ​

[mimisempai]

You walked into my life like you had always lived there

Summary

Charles has resigned himself to a life alone in Paris, but he might be surprised by a visit from an "old friend"... Will they get another chance to reach happiness?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31463351

Words:3719 - Chapters:1/1

This morning, like every other morning, sitting on the terrace of the café downstairs from his small apartment, Charles was waiting for his usual coffee while watching the bustle of the street. Delivery men unloading their vans at the grocery store on the corner, the bookstore owner unpacking his shelves, a tourist couple having their picture taken with the view of Montmartre in the background. The passers-by, people going to work, others walking their dogs. All this lively and colorful world coming and going, talking, laughing, reminded him of the hallway of a certain school, in the mornings just before the students entered their classrooms.

And like every morning, Charles was acutely aware of his loneliness. He had voluntarily closed his mind to all other thoughts than his own.

Thoughts that were enough to torment him.

More often than not, they were memories which he forced himself to face. His mistakes, what he should or should not have done. Searching, dissecting when he had lost sight of his values. At what point he had let down those he had sworn to protect since the day he had discovered Raven in his kitchen so many years ago.

But appeasement never came.

At the beginning, Hank gave him news of the school, of the progress of the students, news of each one and then little by little the messages had spaced, Charles put more and more time to answer, letting the distance grow voluntarily. It was now 3 months that he had no news and it was good like that.

Raven, Jean, Alex... and the names of all the others were spinning in his head, like a macabre dance, a torture he was inflicting on himself to atone.

There was only one name that he refused to pronounce, that he refused to think about. The one name that had always been able to read him without having any telepathic powers.

"You're always sorry, Charles. And there's always a speech. But nobody cares anymore."

"Will that be all sir?"

The waitress, pulling him out of his musings, put his coffee on the table.

"Yes, thank you," Charles replied.

"Mutant and proud."

Raven had always been right,

"Or is that only with pretty mutations or invisible ones, like yours. But if you're a freak, better hide."

Mutant yes, but proud he was no longer. He was the freak who had to hide.

He took a sip of his coffee and ran his hand over his face.

He suddenly felt a presence behind his back, and a shiver went through him at the sound of the voice with such familiar inflections,

"How's retirement treating you Charles?"

Erik sat down and placed a small case containing a chess set at his feet. Why was he there? To taunt him? To provoke him? Charles resisted the temptation to read his mind. He clenched his fist on his knee. Erik was the only one to provoke this storm of emotions in him. The only one who had the capacity to unsettle him.

So as always he chose the attack,"What are you doing here, Erik?"

He finally dared to meet Erik's eyes, and he almost gasped, because, in the blue-gray eyes, there was nothing of the harshness, of the disappointment from their last meeting. Erik's gaze was kind and open as he replied with a slight smile, "I came to see an old friend. Fancy a game?"

Erik showed him the chess set at their feet. Their usual chess game, the moment when their minds clashed. That space outside of time, where despite the fights and conflicts, they always managed to find each other. But this time Charles wasn't sure he had the strength to offer Erik a worthy opponent. So he shook his head and replied, "No, not today. Thank you."

He looked away. He couldn't look at Erik when so many emotions were running through him. He was sure he would never see the only man he had ever loved again, and there he was in front of him, beautiful, making Charles even more aware of his own state.

"A long time ago, you saved my life. Then you offered me a home. I'd like to do the same for you."

Charles studied Erik's expression for a long time. Always the same openness and acceptance. He was once again tempted to read Erik's mind.

"You can, you know." Erik made the hand motion that Charles made when he wanted to access someone's mind.

As always he had seen right through Charles, but again no disappointment or disgust in the voice and the eyes.

Charles after swallowing, answered in a slightly hoarse voice, having trouble containing his emotions.

"I don't do that anymore."

Erik simply nodded with a half smile, put his hands in his pockets, then took them out, and held them out in front of him in clenched fists, just like in the old days.

"Just one game. For old times' sake."

Charles gave in, he didn't feel like fighting anymore, he didn't feel like pretending. So he held out his hand to Erik's right fist, which opened to a white pawn.

Erik said with a slight teasing smile, "I'll go easy on you."

Charles replied with the same smile, just a little more hesitant, "No, you won't."

As they set up the pieces, Erik added, "I might surprise you, you know Charles."

Charles stopped his motion as he went to move a knight, and said with emotion in his voice as he stared into Erik's eyes, "You already have."

Time stood still for a moment, neither of them able to take their eyes off the other. Then Charles continued his movement and the game resumed.

The sun was high in the sky when they finished their game. It was Erik who had won. But as always, no matter who won, neither of them cared, the important thing was the duel not the result.

"Well?" inquired Erik as he closed the chess set, "Did you have time to think about my offer?"

"Did you mean it?" Charles hoped Erik couldn't hear the eagerness in his voice, because he really wanted to accept Erik's offer. But did he deserve it? Did he have a right to this home Erik was offering him? And what did a home even mean?

His hand began to tremble slightly, as if he wanted to grasp something, but didn't dare. He closed his eyes to compose himself.

He felt a hand rest on his as Erik's voice said softly, "Charles...". He opened his eyes. Erik's hand opened his clenched fist and intertwined his fingers with his. Charles slowly raised his eyes to Erik's face.

The urge to surrender, to let go, hit Charles even harder. He could see so much in Erik's eyes, but he was so afraid of being disappointed and of disappointing... again. He closed his fingers over Erik's and tried to swallow the lump that was forming in his throat.

Erik continued, "Charles, no demands, no debts, no obligations, this is completely free, I'm just offering you a simple and protected life. It's far from a castle life, but Genosha is a small, isolated island where we have created a self-sufficient community. Most of the inhabitants are like us, "retired" mutants with wounds to heal. You can-"

Charles interrupted him, "It's okay Erik, no need to say any more, I accept. " and after a moment of silence, he added, "Thank you."

Erik simply smiled, put his other hand over their entwined hands and said, "I'm just showing the same generosity that you have shown to me over and over again. No need for gratitude between us. We are just two friends and..."

Erik paused as if he were about to say something else.

"And?" asked Charles, curious about what Erik had stopped himself from saying.

For the first time since the beginning of this meeting, Erik looked a little unsettled before answering, "Nothing... well at least not now."

Charles didn't insist, he knew there was a lot to clear up between them. But now that he had decided to follow Erik to his island, he knew they had time.

"So how do we do this?"

Erik replied as he stood up, "I'll go with you to your flat, you take what you need for a few days, and we'll leave for Genosha. You can get the rest delivered later."

"So soon?"

"Why wait? Do you have obligations here, people to say goodbye to?"

"No!" replied Charles curtly, angry at having been found out once again.

He began to roll his wheelchair quickly toward the entrance of his building. Erik joined him in two strides before putting his hand on his shoulder. Charles felt bad for being so touch starved that this simple touch immediately soothed him.

"Charles, I know what it's like, I've been there. Don't get upset. It wasn't a criticism or a mockery." He squeezed Charles' shoulder before letting his hand fall back.

"I know..." sighed Charles. "Come on."

As they walked through the door of Charles' tiny apartment, sensing that Erik was about to say something, Charles admonished him, "Don't say anything."

Erik waved his hand, as if he were zipping up his mouth without hiding his smile, but finally couldn't help himself.

"My Charles, do you live in that shoebox? I'm disappointed in you! Pretty spartan."

Seeing Charles' dark glare, he pretended to surrender. "Ok, ok, I'm not saying anything more."

Charles muttered, "Liar."

Then they gathered Charles' things and a few hours later they were on their way to Genosha.

__________

Two weeks later, Charles was unpacking the last of the boxes that had just arrived, mostly books. Erik had built him some makeshift shelves. His "residence" like all of Genosha’s, was made of salvaged materials, but Charles didn't mind. Although he had always lived in a certain opulence, he knew how to make do with little.

"Need a hand?"

Erik had just stepped through the curtain that served as a door.

"I'm not saying no."

They hadn't had time to really talk and clear the air between them, but Erik was very thoughtful. Charles was a little insecure, not knowing where he stood. So he decided to just take things as they came. If he was honest with himself, he knew how he felt about Erik. But he wouldn't act, he didn't want to risk breaking the friendship they were rebuilding.

Erik had begun unpacking a box of books.

"Do you have a particular order?"

"No put them on the shelves as they come for now."

So Erik began to put the books away, commenting on some of the titles.

"Oh Charles, Charlotte Brontë really? Jane Eyre as well?"

"Hey Erik, just because you're helping me doesn't mean you have to like what I read."

"Ho Ho! You even marked a page."

Charles remembered, what page and what words he had written in the margin.

"Erik, please put that book away, it doesn't matter."

But he could see from Erik's face that he wasn't about to let go, so he resigned himself and closed his eyes waiting for a reaction, of what kind, he didn't know.

"Charles?"

Charles squeezed his eyes tighter.

"Yes?"

"Is that about me?"

Charles had a small self-deprecating laugh before he replied, "I don't know any other Erik, so yes."

"What do you mean with 'you left Erik and now I'm bleeding'?"

Charles let out a big sigh and put his head in his hands. "This is really embarrassing...it's in relation to the underlined passage that's a little higher up if I remember correctly."

He knew the phrase by heart, because it had resonated in a special way since he'd met Erik, but he hadn't expected the raw emotion that ran through him when he heard Erik read the words aloud.

“I have a strange feeling with regard to you. As if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly knotted to a similar string in you. And if you were to leave I’m afraid that cord of communion would snap. And I have a notion that I’d take to bleeding inwardly. As for you, you’d forget me.”

Charles heard Erik put the book down, and a sound of footsteps, he still didn't want to open his eyes, he was too afraid of what he would read in Erik's eyes. He was aware of Erik's presence very close to him, then a hand clasped his.

"Charles, please look at me." Erik's voice was almost pleading, Charles didn't resist and opened his eyes, to see that Erik had knelt down to be at his level. Then he looked up at Erik's eyes, afraid of what he would find there, and gasped, Erik looked almost amazed, yes that's right, amazed.

"Charles is that how you still feel?" Erik asked him in an pressing tone, his eyes scanning his, leaving Charles no escape.

Charles swallowed, and despite his tight throat, he tried to answer, "Yes."

"But when... I mean since when?"

"When? Do you remember the day you managed to unlock your power. The day you let me access that memory? Well since that day, I've felt this very strong connection between us."

Erik tightened his grip on his hand and asked, "And those words in the margin?"

Charles' voice was a whisper, "After the missiles and the beach, when you left."

"Oh Charles, I...I'm so sorry." The regret was genuine in Erik's eyes.

"Don't be anymore, it's been a long time since I forgave you and since then I think I've made my share of mistakes and bad decisions. Some of which have more consequences than losing my legs. Raven was right, I had forgotten who I was. Why I started all this in the first place. I lost sight of what was important, I lost... I lost so much. And I'm sorry I didn't see it sooner, and... I'm not as evolved as I thought I was. You say you're sorry Erik, but you don't know how sorry I am. Forgive me I... I must..."

Charles had to go, he had to get out, the grief he had been feeling since he left school, no even before, since Raven's death, it was all threatening to come out, he didn't want to fall apart like that in front of Erik.

But Erik was keeping him from walking away. Still kneeling and holding his hand.

"Erik, please move over... let go of me, I have to get out, I-" the tears were starting to blur his vision, with his free hand he was trying to push his wheelchair forward.

"Charles, stop! You don't have to leave. You don't have to be alone anymore. You are not alone!"

Erik loosened Charles other hand's grip on the wheel, and suddenly took him in his arms, and he felt his lips move against his head and the words came to his ears "Charles, you can let go, even though I've failed you many times in the past, this time I won't. Let it go. Don't be afraid, I'll catch you."

Because Charles no longer had the strength to stay strong, because he was craving for someone to lean on, he let go. He let the grief engulf him, because he knew Erik was there and would keep him from drowning.

Erik continued to hold him and whispered over and over, "That's it, let it all out. I'm here mein Liebster. Let it out."

Once the crying dried up, exhaustion fell on Charles and he fell asleep in Erik's arms. He was sleeping so deeply that Erik had been able to lift him out of his wheelchair without him waking up and now he was lying with his back against Erik's front, his head under his chin and Erik's arms wrapped around Charles.

Erik had been torn when he saw his beloved overwhelmed by grief and wondered how long it had been since Charles had been able to express his pain. He had always been attracted to the shining side of Charles, he often compared them to two sides of the same coin. But when he'd found him in Paris, he'd seen that all that light was like dulled.

"Erik..." the still broken voice Charle continued, "Thank you..."

"Sshh Charles, I told you no thanks are needed between us."

"Yeah..." Erik felt Charles relax against him again.

"Sleep, meine Liebster."

Much later, Erik was awakened by a gentle brushing sensation on his face. He opened his eyes, found himself facing Charles, who was withdrawing his hand as if he had been caught with his hands in the jam jar.  Erik grabbed his hand and placed it back on his own cheek.

"Don't stop Charles..."

He saw Charles' expression ease as he gently stroked his face with feather-like touches, tracing Erik's facial lines with his fingertips.

Their faces were so close that Erik immediately caught sight of Charles gulping as a veil of sadness passed over his face.

"What's wrong?"

"I've lost you so many times already," Charles murmured.

"But I'm still here and so are you. Now we're together."

Erik couldn't resist, he crossed the remaining distance between them and put his lips to Charles'. It was as if everything fell into place in their worlds at that moment.

They remained for a long time, joined in a soft and almost innocent embrace.

Charles moved back and stared at Erik, looking for something in his eyes. He must have found what he was looking for because he smiled. His hand came up to brush a strand of hair from his face.

His lips parted and he pressed them to Erik's again. Erik licked the corner of his mouth and slid his tongue over his bottom lip, then kissed him. Charles quickly opened up to him, welcoming him wordlessly with his lips and hands in his hair. His tongue mimicked the actions of hers, and soon they were drinking from each other's lips, caught up in a thirst that would not seem to be quenched.

Erik slid his hands to Charles' waist, and pulled him as close as he could get. Charles' head fell back with a moan as Erik’s fingers slipped under his shirt and caressed his back. Erik took advantage of his distraction and lowered his head even further to press himself against his neck. He felt the slide of his tongue against his skin, then his teeth biting the same spot. Charles had a slight startle. His hands slid over Erik's shoulders and his fingers dug in. Erik immediately raised his head, worried about his reaction. "Not good?"

"No. Good. Really good," Charles reassured him in a gentle sigh. Erik smiled fondly and returned his attentions to Charles' neck. But Charles groaned and tugged at his hair, pulling Erik toward him so he could take his lips again.

Much later, as they both caught their breath. Lips to lips, forehead to forehead, Charles asked Erik, "I don't know if I was dreaming or not, but before you called me 'mein liebster', 'my dearest' if I am not mistaken."

For the first time since he had known him, Charles saw Erik's cheeks turn slightly pink. However, Erik's voice was perfectly assured as he replied, "You were not dreaming mein Liebster." He punctuated his words with a tender kiss.

"Unless you prefer, mein Schatz, my treasure." Another kiss.

"Or mein Geliebter, my beloved." Another kiss.

It was now Charles's turn to have slightly red cheeks. But he, too, looked Erik squarely in the eye and asked, "Is that really what I am?"

"Yes, my love and much more." Erik emphasized this with another kiss.

"Since when?"

"I'll show you. By looking into my thoughts in the brightest corner of my sensory memory like you did that time, you will find an additional memory beyond the one you found to help me unlock my powers."

Charles began to protest, "No Erik, I don't want to-"

Erik put a finger over his mouth, "Shhh, I'm asking you to."

He took Charles' hand and placed his fingers against his temple, in the familiar gesture he had when he wanted to access someone's thoughts.

Erik, visibly moved, addressed Charles, "What did you just do to me?"

"I accessed the brightest corner of your memory system. It's a very beautiful memory, Erik. Thank you"

"I didn't know I still had that."

Charles put his hand on his shoulder and said with strength and emotion in his voice, "There's so much more to you than you know. Not just pain and anger. There's good to you, I felt it. And when you can access all that, you'll possess a power no one can match. Not even me."

When Charles exited Erik's head, they were both deeply moved by the strength of the emotions of the shared memory.

Erik pressed his forehead against Charles'.

"What you told me that day, that there was good to me, that you felt it. It's a memory as happy as my mother's. It was also that day that I felt the connection between us. That I knew that-"

Erik paused for a moment.

"That you knew what?"

"That I was hopelessly and madly in love with you. I love you Charles. We've fought together, we've clashed, we've been through terrible trials sometimes together, sometimes against each other, but this, what I feel for you has always been my ultimate truth. I love you Charles."

Charles once again gasped, this time at the open adoration he read on Erik's face.

He raised his hand to his face, tracing the outline of it he said, his voice broken, "Despite all the detours I've taken, all the bad decisions you or I have made, every time, when it counted, you were there by my side, that unchanging presence. I can't tell where you start and where I end. I love you Erik, more than my life."

There. That moment. This moment of perfect communion after all they had been through. The fate, the choices, the events that had separated them, brought them together in a spiral that never seemed to end, it was all over. It was time for them to live. It wasn't the end, it was the beginning. This was their story.

___________

Although I am very familiar with X-men - Movie verse, I have never written for this fandom before. After rewatching Dark Phoenix, I'm only holding onto this ending scene. I wanted to write about Erik and Xavier from there. I hope I did them justice.

Not beta'd I hope you enjoyed your reading.

[sariahsue]

Of Secrets and Snowflakes

What am I doing? What am I doing? What on earth am I doing? The obvious answer—stalking a celebrity in broad daylight—didn't seem to cover the magnitude of her stupidity. Ladybug knew she shouldn't be out here, in the cold, sitting in a barren, snow-glazed tree, staring at her breath and Adrien's front door. She was sure to be caught, and the worst of it was that she couldn't even see his window from here. All of the dangers, with none of the benefits.

It had been twenty-four hours since Chat Noir's accidental identity reveal and Ladybug just wanted to 'check on' her partner. Not talk to him exactly, but just see him. Make sure he was okay. Without him seeing her. But she couldn't really do that from here, so she'd have to loop around to his window.

Not giving herself the chance to change her mind, she unhooked her yoyo and jumped. Each swing closer gave her another ten reasons to turn back. It was too soon. Neither of them were ready. She shouldn't be putting him in danger like this.

But Ladybug was suddenly on his fence, balancing dangerously between making one last leap to his window ledge and retreating. The quiet of his yard made her stop. A breeze skimmed the tops off of snow drifts. Sunlight reflected off the icicles hanging from the roof.

She really should check on him. It hadn't been right to dump him and run like she had yesterday.

She took a breath. It was probably best to leave. Neither of them would be able to act professionally now that his identity was out in the open. If they didn't put up boundaries now, they wouldn't be able to protect Paris. And if they couldn't protect Paris, then Hawk Moth would win. But boundaries could easily become walls, and then they'd drift farther and farther apart and then—

Ladybug heard the wet smack before she felt the cold of the snowball exploding across her cheek.

"HEADSHOT! WOO!" Adrien jumped out from behind a very tall, thin snowman as chunks of snow dripped off Ladybug's cheek.

"Go on, tell me how impressed you are with that throw," he said, pulling off his woolen beanie and flourishing it as he bowed in her direction. "And I'm not even in my suit right now!"

"Shh!" Ladybug hissed, snapping her head around to make sure no one was close enough to listen.

"Who's going to hear me?" Adrien asked, putting his hat back on. The bright red pom pom flopped into his face. "My father?" He waved a mittened glove (again black and red, she was sensing a theme) at the snowman. With its pointed hair and narrow frame, it looked suspiciously familiar. Adrien ducked behind the snowman, raising one of its tree branch arms in a wave.

The snowman was much more a pile of snow if anything, shaped tall and thin into a pointed tip that resembled the twirl of an ice cream cone. It was all angles, even its thin tree branch arms stood from its frigid form and perched above its long carrot nose were a pair of oddly familiar thick-rimmed glasses. Ladybug bit down on her lip to stifle her laughter as she easily recognized the ill-fashioned, candy-cane-striped ascot tied around its neck.

"Bonjour, mademoiselle," he spoke with an exaggerated deep voice. "'Tis I! Gabriel Snowgreste!"

"Did you steal those glasses it's wearing?" she asked, barely managing to hold back her giggles.

"They're a spare pair," Adrien said. "He won't even notice. I want to show you something." He held up a hand to her, ready to help her down, if she chose.

Ladybug chewed her lip as she hesitated. This was dangerous. The lines between them were already starting to fuzz and disappear, and if she couldn't maintain distance—no, she could. This wasn't any different than the other rare occasions she'd been to his house.

Ignoring his hand, Ladybug jumped down to land beside him. Snow crunched under her feet. "I can't stay for long," she said, looking from her hands, to the icicles hanging from his roof, and then to his lips—ahem, back to her feet. "I'm on patrol and I don't have much time to chat up random civilians."

"Aha, 'patrol.' Gotcha," Adrien said. He took a step closer, and she started to wonder if the pink on his cheeks was only from the frigid air. "Well, thank you, M'Ladybug, for stopping by to see me, someone you've never met before, when you were obviously so busy. Tell me, what's your favorite part of being a superhero? The powers? The fans? Or is it the amazing company you keep?"

She couldn't help a small giggle. Adrien, your Chat is showing. She wasn't fast enough to convincingly cover it with a cough and saw his eyes sparkle and the color on his cheeks deepen, and realized she'd made a mistake already. Professional. Distant.

Dang it.

"Since you're here, want to stay and see what I made?" He took her silence for assent and reached for her hand, leading her across the yard.

Brisk air blew at her back, creeping across the exposed skin of her neck and ears, but Ladybug's brain was overheating. Stay here? With Adrien? Forever? Her steps were halting and uneven. When he turned to see what the matter was, he dropped her wrist immediately.

"Sorry!" he said, putting up his hands. "I didn't mean—I shouldn't have grabbed—s-sorry, I mean, we can hang out if you want? I've got hot chocolate inside. We could talk about—"

Wind whistled through the empty branches above them, carrying snowflakes and another dozen reasons to say yes, that sounded wonderful. Adrien—her partner—was warm and inviting.

"O-or," he continued, looking around the yard for inspiration. "We could watch something? Or I could read something to you? Not that I think you can't read, but …" His voice stuttered and died away under her continued silence. "Sorry, I shouldn't have assumed."

It had only been a day, and their sync, their perfect harmony was already ruined, she could tell. How many times had Chat Noir simply looked at her and known what she was thinking? And now he was reading her all wrong.

"I really shouldn't be here," she said. "It's not safe."

"No one's going to see us," Adrien promised, a little desperately. "And we're friends, aren't we? We can hang out, right?"

"Well …" Another gust of wind, and movement caught her eye: the stick arms of Gabriel Snowgreste. Adrien had been out here all alone, ignored by everyone he cared about, and she couldn't have that. Ladybug was a woman of many plans, so from the ashes of 'pretend she had never met Adrien' another one was quickly born. It was called 'pretend everything was under control.' For his sake, and for the sake of the team, she'd set her emotions aside.

"Of course we're friends," she said, before firmly reminding herself, and nothing more. "Lead the way."

In three short skips, Adrien led her around the corner of the mansion, straight toward a mound of snow that went up to his shoulders. "Tada!"

"Oh," Ladybug said. She took in the patches of dead grass peeking out around the edges of the mound, and the shovel leaning against the side. What was it? He'd obviously worked hard, and she didn't want to say the wrong thing. "L-looks impressive?" She swallowed hard, trying to force her stutter down.

"You're admiring the wrong side, LB." He crouched and twisted out of sight. On the correct side of the small dome was a stubby tunnel opening, with a hole just wide enough to crawl through. An igloo. How had he found enough time to build an entire igloo? Shaking her head, she followed him inside.

The interior was small. Even with her height disadvantage, she wouldn't have been able to lie down without her feet sticking out the door, but that only added to the igloo's coziness factor and—she swallowed hard—sense of intimacy. Dim sunlight filtered through the thinner areas of the dome, creating a soft glow. And Adrien smiled sweetly at her as she sat down. She needed to make this quick.

"Thank you," he said, scooting closer to her.

"F-f-for?" There was no reason to stutter. There was no reason to shiver in anticipation as he lined his body up next to hers.

"Coming to see me. It's not a patrol day, so—" He rubbed the back of his neck. "I miss you when I don't get to see you."

It was an odd time to realize that igloos had no windows. No one could see them, no one would witness whatever happened next. And she really needed some air, because Adrien was right there, his face illuminating the small space. How many times had Chat Noir—Adrien—told her that he loved her? The heat on her face was going to melt the igloo he worked so hard on.

"Glad I could make you beel fetter—I mean f-feel better!" Ladybug scrambled for the tunnel entrance and for safety. The biting chill brought her clarity. She'd thought she needed more time to adjust to her two favorite boys being one person, but that wasn't the real reason she was running away. She couldn't be trusted around him. Distance and control and careful plans were no match for Adrien Agreste.

"I bet you'd make a good snow angel." Adrien lay in the igloo's entrance, face in his hands and staring at her, freezing her on the spot. "Because you're so angelic."

Ladybug kind of, sort of, maybe, gaped at him for several seconds before hitching her heart back into place and closing her mouth.

"Sorry, was that too much?" he asked.

She managed to squeak out a small, "No!" before she dropped to her knees and kissed his forehead, letting her mouth rest against his skin just a fraction of a second longer than she thought she should. "Maybe next time, Chaton."

And then she bolted.

Ignoring the voice that said to stay, to see where this path led, Ladybug finally achieved her distance. She didn't turn around until her feet landed on the hard sidewalk, and they were separated by the mansion's iron fence. Adrien was still visible through the bars, crouching behind the igloo to watch what she should do, expression obscured by his creation.

Even when she was trying to protect him, she hurt him.

He wasn't just Chat Noir anymore. And not just Adrien. He was her … he was so many things to her that she wasn't even sure what to call him. He was her partner. Her best friend. The person she always wanted to run to …

And was now running away from to protect.

***

That night, darkness fell on an uncertain Ladybug. Shadows stretched beneath her dangling feet as it started to snow lightly. Marinette had known all day that she needed to apologize, that much had been obvious. She'd even prepared a thermos of hot cocoa for a peace offering.

But now what? How could she go on without hurting or endangering Adrien further? The cleanest way to keep him and the city safe was to tell him they needed to only see each other during akuma attacks, to maintain the dynamic that had always worked so well. Would either of them be able to stand that?

The only clear answer was that running away from him had solved nothing. She sighed, scooped up the thermos, and pushed off to find him. She would think of something. She had to.

Ladybug was greeted with the dark, empty windows of Adrien's room. It was too early for him to be in bed, but too late for him to be at a photoshoot. If she knew Chat Noir, and if Chat Noir was Adrien, then she was sure he'd be out and about somewhere. As she raced to all his favorite hangout spots, doubt started to set in. This was another sign of their weakening bond. He had read her wrong before, and now she couldn't anticipate where he would go.

A few minutes later and getting desperate, she swung back toward his house, hoping that maybe he'd already gone home. In between street lamps, hundreds of string lights covered buildings and fences and trees. Icy puddles and piles of snow seemed to blur together as she pushed herself faster. She arced over the park and spotted a lone figure on a bench staring up the Ladybug and Chat Noir statue. Lights hung off her stone counterpart like necklaces and scarves. The person on the bench looked like marshmallow in a puffy white coat that was several sizes too big. But she recognized the red pom pom.

Landing silently next to him, she asked, "Hey, on the prowl?"

Adrien sat up a little straighter at the sound of her voice. "Ladybug! You're here! I mean, you don't have to stay if you don't want to." He slid to make room for her on the bench, ever hopeful.

"Do you know how long I've been looking for you?" She took the offered seat and uncapped the thermos for him.

"I'm guessing you were dying to see me and have been calling my name for hours."

"You haven't been here out for hours, have you?" she asked in alarm.

"No, no," he assured her. "I was just—never mind." He took a sip of the thermos to avoid her questioning look.

They passed thermos back and forth several times before Ladybug said, "Sorry for freaking out at you earlier. I'm here because I want to spend time with you, but …" The words caught in her throat. What should have followed was, but we can't right now. She couldn't say it. She was here because she wanted to be with him. Another sip hid her struggle, as she tried to buy herself time, so he wouldn't have to see her confusion, to delay the words that would hurt him.

The wind blew, and she shivered, though she resisted the urge to lean into him for warmth.

He noticed her shudder anyway. "Maybe this isn't the best time for this conversation," he said.

Ladybug pressed her fingers into the side of the thermos, trying to draw in its heat. "I'm fine." Her teeth chattered. "Not cold." They needed to have this conversation. She needed to get a hold of herself for his sake, though she wasn't sure if she meant her shivers or her emotions.

As lightly as another breeze, Adrien's arm snaked around her shoulder, bringing with it half of the coat. She tried to protest, but he just leaned over to grab the thermos from her and pulled her deeper into his side in the process. "Sorry, but you're freezing. Don't try to hide it," was the only apology he gave.

Now she'd done it. Given him the wrong impression. He thought she was stopping because of the weather and not because she was choking on her words. He'd misread the situation again. They were out of sync. All of her efforts to fix it had failed. What was she supposed to do now?

"You probably think we shouldn't be sitting out here like this," he said. "I get it."

Ladybug frowned. Did he really? Could he tell how badly they were messed up?

"It's been pretty crazy for me. I can't imagine what it's been like for you. You're always the one with the plan, and there's no way to plan our way out of this. It'll just take some time."

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. Maybe … she started to hope. Maybe he did get it.

"But I trust you, Ladybug. And I'm glad we're in it together," he said. "Right?"

"Always," she said. They couldn't turn back to where they had been. And they couldn't stop their partnership from developing. But as she laid her head on his shoulder and stared up at the sparkling lights illuminating their statues, she thought maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing after all.

For now, she had a new plan …

Trust her partner.

***

Author's note: This was written for the Miraculous Writer Zine: Once Upon a Season. Together, we raised $2,385 for the Organization of Transformative Works. The zine is no longer on sale, so all the authors have been given permission to post their works!

[missskzbiased]

I Hate That I’m Afraid to Love You (18)

Genre: Romance, Friendship, Angst, Hurt /Confort , Suggestive, Fluff, College Au, Enemies to Friends to Lovers Au, REALLY Slow burn, Love Square (?)

Pairing: Hyunjin X Fem!Reader  X Han X OC

WC: ~ 4,4K

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Masterlist

Warnings (general*): Language, Mentions of (Physical abuse, Death/ Loss of Loved One, Child Abandonment/Neglect, Divorce, Toxic Parents, Cancer, Mental disorder, Anxiety Attack, Alcohol, Food), Suggestiveness

Notes: If anyone got the notification, please tell me 😭 If you guys want to get notifications (hopefully) please go here

Updates: Tuesdays

                                                         ////

   There were a lot of rumors going on right now.

    You prided yourself on not being the type to care about rumors and things like this but being in the center of so many of those in the last few days made it impossible for you to not be at least curious. The whispers had been obvious for a while now ─ particularly after Paris’ performance ─ and you couldn’t help but wonder how people could have so much free time in their hands and use it like that.

    You should have known, though.

    It was more than obvious that befriending Chan and Hyunjin would put you in the spotlight and it was bound to lead to dumb rumors at some point. You just didn’t expect them to be so dumb. Although you must have heard about hundreds of versions up to now, the core of all of them was pretty simple to catch: Love affairs and intrigue. That was what those incredible undergraduate brains could do with all of their loose imagination and wisdom.    

    You could kinda grasp why people thought you were dating Chan. You really could. You were pretty close with each other so it was logical for people to misunderstand your relationship… The thing is that you had been like this with Chan for ages now and no one ever had commented anything about it ─ at least not to this extent ─ so the real question here was pretty simple: Why now?

    “Hey” You lifted your eyes from the counter, meeting Hyunjin’s ones “Daydreaming at work?” He chuckled, leaning on the surface as he rested his face on his hand, studying you closely.

    Well… Then there was that too.

    Not only you were dating Chan but you were also cheating on him with Hyunjin… So maybe you could understand why people thought you were with Chan but where did this come from? It didn’t make any sense. First of all, they’re best friends living together! How the hell would you two-time Chan right under his roof with his best friend?! Second of all, you didn’t give away any hint on feeling something for Hyunjin! And he didn’t show anything similar for you either!

    No. Fucking. Sense.

    “Yeah…” You agreed mindlessly, mimicking his position to stare into his eyes “What about you? Why are you here?” You asked curiously, tilting your head as he smiled fondly at you; face too close for you to completely catch his shrug.

    “Can’t I drop by to see a friend?” He asked in a teasing tone “I should just have gone to see Paris… She treats me way better than you” He joked; hand reaching to fix a strand behind your ear “I should know you were just going after my body…” He sighed mockingly, chuckling as you rolled your eyes and tried to get away from his touch.

    “Stop it” You hissed “You know people are talking about us!” You frowned, getting a laugh as an answer. He leaned even closer, prompting you to lean back, trying to get more space between the both of you “You might like being the center of the attention but I don’t, Hyunjin” You mumbled, pushing him lightly so he would take a step back.

    “I didn’t think you were the type to care about what people thought about you” He pointed out, leaning back anyway “What are you worrying about? Do you think Chan will misunderstand us?” You weren’t really sure but his tone sounded a little bitter right there, and you couldn’t help but narrow your eyes.

    There was something wrong with Hyunjin these days…

    You were under the impression that he had been the target of those kinds of rumors throughout all his life and yet he was acting weirdly. Although he was quite playful about it ─ and by playful you meant flirty and touching ─, he also had those moments where he seemed to… Overthink? You weren’t really sure what was going on.

    It was like he couldn’t help but grimace each time you and Chan were mentioned on those. He seemed pretty okay in being the center of the rumors… Whether it was you or Paris, he didn’t seem to mind when either of you was pictured with him but he got clearly upset when Chan was involved. You were not sure if it was just his overprotective self over Chan or if he was suspicious of something going on between both of you while he knew the other rumors were just bullshit.

    He probably believed that both of you were hiding things from him. Again. You honestly had no idea why your friends had so much of a hard time understanding the things you said. You and Chan would never have anything! You were best friends, for Lord’s sake! And that was it.

    No. Romantic. Feelings. At. All.

    “There is nothing to misunderstand here, Hyunjin” You sighed “You and I have nothing going on and neither do I and Chan” You explained for the hundredth time already “Not wanting to fuel the rumors isn’t the same as caring about them” You added, grimacing at him in a matter-of-fact way that made him scoff.

    “I see…” He hummed, staring into your eyes for a second too long “Well… Anyway, I came here for a new book” He clarified, placing the last one he borrowed on the counter “This one was pretty good but I still preferred the first you lent me” He added, drumming his fingers on the book’s cover “I was wondering if you don’t have any other indications” He shrugged, averting his eyes from yours.

  “Oh? I thought you were a slow reader” You arched your brows in surprise, taking the book from the counter while looking at him “Are you sure you read that one?” You joked, chuckling.

   “I guess you still have a lot to learn about me” He giggled, leaning once more on the counter “Maybe if you started to pay attention to me instead of listening to those rumors…” He let the sentence hang in the air teasingly, smirking as you rolled your eyes “Or maybe we should start dating to give them a reason to talk” He chuckled, wiggling his brows at you.

   “Great 5th grade way to think” You praised him mockingly, giving him a thumbs-up as you pressed the book against your chest and made your way to the shelf it was supposed to be on “Do you have any genre in mind?” You asked mindlessly, checking the codes to match the book.

    “Surprise me” He joked, trying to do an awkward French accent that made you look funnily at him “Oh, come on… Ratatouille? No? Really?” He nagged, mumbling displeased as you giggled at his antics.

    You turned on the aisle, eyes roaming around as he followed you closely behind, gaze wandering around the many books displayed on the shelves. You put the one you were holding back in its place, humming as you studied the content on the shelves. He hummed along with you, playfully leaning closer to your ear as he pretended to be invested in looking for something to read.  

    His presence sent shivers all the way down your body.

    No… Not his presence.

    It was the setting… Yes, it had to be it.

    The library had that mysterious ancient vibe that thrilled you… The brownish solid colors surrounding everything in a majestic framing that made you feel too small… The hard-covered books’ scent in the air, a full-bodied heaviness that seemed to clamp you… The dim lighting that revealed each scattering mote fluttering around, agitated by the soft huff Hyunjin let out… The warmth that crept into your bones as you held your breath for just a half-second…

    It wasn’t him.

    The way your heart rammed against your chest had nothing to do with his presence… Nor it had anything to do with his hands slowly making their way to the shelves, trapping you between him and the books… And you were almost too sure that the cloudy thoughts flickering in your mind and the fluttering sensations in your stomach ─ that forced you to swallow dryly ─ had something to do with your skipped meal but, again, not with him.

    “Someone looks nervous” He whispered and somehow his breathing seemed to tighten your chest and quicken your heart pace once more. You could see both of his hands right in front of you and yet it felt like he was embracing you… The way you had to force your eyes open wasn’t a good sign to your brain “All stiff and…” He continued; voice purposely teasingly “… Panting” He added, a hint of amusement under his tone.

    “Stop joking around…” You managed to say, lips quivering as he chuckled huskily. Although you could feel his warmth and presence clearly, there was no inch of skin ─ except his chin making its way to rest on your shoulder ─ to seal the deal. It felt intimate yet distant… It felt like you were supposed to laugh it off but you didn’t want to.

    “It doesn’t need to be a j—“ He couldn’t finish what he was going to say, interrupted by a gasp that had both of your heads snapping at the side. There, facing the aisle with mouth fully agape and widened eyes, was someone who was bound to spread some more rumors around.

    “I-I’m sorry” They blurted out “I-I didn’t mean to interrupt” They rushed to say, clearing their throat before turning around, utterly flustered by what they thought to have witnessed. You groaned, resting your forehead on the shelf before flicking Hyunjin’s nose, pushing him away for you to look for a new book.

    “Read this” You spat, shoving a random one into his hands.

                                                          ////

    Your thoughts were filled with Hyunjin.

    Although your eyes were fixed on the TV, you couldn’t care less about whatever was going on there. The voices sounded like a buzz in the back of your head and the image was almost too blurry for you to understand but Paris’ distinct laughter was a good cue for you to laugh at some joke you didn’t listen to. Whether it was your chuckle sounding too fake or too off time, she seemed to notice that something was going on inside your head.

    She didn’t even say anything, pausing the show before looking straight at you with a questioning look, arching her brow as she waited for you to say something. There was it… The two-path road. You could either tell her that it was nothing ─ and she would probably narrow her eyes at you until you made up a random excuse ─ or you could actually tell her what has been on your mind lately ─ and then you would have to put up with the insufferable Paris state.

    Too late to back off now… You should have paid attention to the show.

    You glanced at her ─ unsure about what to say or do at a moment like this ─, biting your lip as you blinked a few times to buy some time to decide what you were going to do. You knew Paris well enough to predict her reaction… As soon as you said that you have been thinking a lot about all those rumors, she would instantly assume that you were worrying over it because you had some suppressed feelings that you were trying to hide.

    You just knew it.

    “So…” She stressed, still staring at you “What’s going on inside that little box of yours?” She joked, pointing at her own head before hugging her knees, sitting across you on the couch.

  Path N° 1: The finals are right there at the corner…

  Path N° 2: I can’t understand where all those rumors are coming from… I didn’t do anything suspicious with Chan or Hyunjin and suddenly people are talking behind our back. Either I messed up really bad about something and didn’t notice or someone misunderstood something I did… Or maybe it could be because Hyunjin has been flirting a lot lately! He pinned me against the wall thrice already. Do you think this is strange? I’m finding it a little odd... Maybe I’m being too sensitive over useless st–

  “Y/N?” Paris called you softly, tilting her head to the other side as if it could help her to see what was going on in your mind “Are you feeling okay? You seem a little bit… Off… Today” She said carefully, studying your features for a brief moment.

  “I’ve been thinking about the rumors…” You began hesitantly, checking for her reaction “Don’t you find it strange? I mean… You and Hyunjin had your rumors before but I hadn’t been dragged into this until now” You pointed out, shrugging “I find it odd that people are talking about me and Chan out of nowhere and… Well, talking like I’m hooking up with Hyunjin behind your back” You explained.

  Paris didn’t say anything at first, seeming surprised by your worries.

  “Well…” She cleared her throat “I mean… I have heard some things about you and Chan around… And you kinda… Well—“ She licked her lips, visibly stiffening up as she thought about what to say “You know? Some people saw you guys at the library… And you guys keep calling each other sweety and stuff…” She floundered her hand in the air as if it helped her to express it better “And you gave him your keys… And he slept here the whole week…” She trailed off.

    “What the fuck?” You blurted, surprised by all this “How do they even know about this?!” You frowned, wondering how many people heard all those kinds of stuff out of context and got to build up a rumor like this.

    “Yeah… Well, you guys aren’t really subtle” She chuckled nervously “And I think that you shouldn’t really have said that you guys used to… Have sex…” She practically whispered the last part, ashamed to talk about it “Before, you know? Especially on a party” She cleared her throat once more, fixing herself on the couch.

    You had what now?

    “I never said that” You frowned “I never had sex with Chan… I-“ You scowled in disgust “Why would I ever have sex with Chan? We’re literally best friends! He’s like a brother to me or something… Ew” You scrunched your nose, shaking your head to get rid of the thought “What made you think I had sex with him? What the fuck?” it would be an understatement to say that you were flabbergasted.

    “Well… You kinda did” She arched her brow, looking at you filled with confusion “You told us you used to hook up with Chan, remember?” She asked as if she was talking to a kid “At the party, you clearly said that you used to hook up with him…” She pursed her lips, raising her eyebrows matter-of-factly, almost as if she was trying to transfer her memories to you.

    “No, I most definitely didn’t say this” You grimaced at her, finding all the situation kinda odd, “I said I hooked up with Chan’s friend” You emphasized, returning the look to her “I would never say I hooked up with him… You distorting what I said” You blinked, staring at her in confusion as she gasped.

    “Oh! It was Chan’s friend!” She chortled “Well, so you should roast Chan! He interrupted you, and I think everyone understood the very same as me” She huffed, seeming to find the situation amusing “Oh my God… I’m pretty sure that was what triggered the rumors about you and Chan, to be honest” She mused, rubbing her chin thoughtfully.

    “I can’t believe you guys thought—“ You sighed in resignation “Well… Anyway, I’m not dating or fucking Chan” You said dismissively, already done with how all this had started “And what have you heard about Hyunjin? What started it all?” You deadpanned, waiting for some silly explanation once again.

  Paris stared blankly at you.

  “You’re kidding, right?” She sounded taken aback, looking at you as if you tried to make a bad joke. The way you stood silent, staring back at her in genuine curiosity, must have seemed really sincere because she chortled before answering you “Y/N, he literally kissed you at the stairs” She reminded you slowly, trying to get the words to sink into your head.

  She didn’t need to do much.

  You didn’t want to admit it ─ and you would refuse to for as long as you could ─ but that kiss… Fake kiss! That fake kiss… You couldn’t help but gulp down as you felt your senses being electrified just by the mention of it. How many times did you push aside that thought? How many times did you ignore the flickering thought in the back of your mind? How many times you could practically see him leaning in for a kiss?

  You licked your lips, biting them to restrain the turmoil inside your head.

  Of course, you weren’t blind… Hyunjin was a handsome piece of shit. You knew it even when you hated him. You knew it even when you didn’t want to acknowledge it… Even when you wanted to believe that it was just the popular opinion about him.

    Now, you couldn’t ignore how pretty he was.

    You weren’t quite sure if it was all in your mind ─ he did lean it too quickly for you to notice every single thing ─ but you could still feel the fire on his gaze as he made his move. You could remember how eager he was… Or at least, how eager you believed him to be as you were crushed against the wall and lost all the air inside your lungs. Was it just you being surprised? Was it the abruptness of the situation? Or did he really pin you against the wall as if his life depended on it? You surely felt like it was the last one… But could it be you the one who wanted to believe it for dear life?

    No, of course, not.

    The warmth of his hands still lingered there on your skin from time to time, and the soft pressure in your lips seemed to be carved at the back of your mind. You hated that sometimes you pressed your lips with your thumb ─ the same pressure though not the same way he did ─ just to snap out of it a second too late. You also couldn’t forget the way he tilted his head to deepen a kiss that didn’t really happen… The way the realization washed over you right at that second.

    It wasn’t disappointment… It was something else.

    You could still feel how his touch changed on that second… The hold was firm and consistent… It was like he didn’t want to let you go; like something just switched on his head and triggered something that felt so much like… You gulped down once more, still refusing to stress that thought out. The way your breaths mingled and hitched… Faltered… It was almost painful to know that it didn’t really happen.

    There was it…

    Desire and passion.

    The urges of a single woman who hadn’t been getting some in a while.

    “It was a fake kiss” You finally answered her but by now, Paris knew too damn well where your thoughts were wandering around a second earlier.

    “Yeah, but it seemed pretty real for anyone who took a glance at it” She reminded you, and the suggestive hint under her tone made you scoff “And I don’t want to say it—“

    “Then just don’t” You grimaced at her.

    “—But I think both of you were pretty into it even for a fake kiss…” She grinned at you teasingly, and the tired sigh that left your lips seemed to fuel her “I can remember quite well how you just let your hands right on his chest… I don’t recall you pushing him away, you know?” her grin spread all over her face “I think you enjoyed feeling him under your touch a whole lot…” She raised her eyebrows, throwing you a knowing look that made you huff, rubbing your face in distress.

    Why did she have to say that?!

    You clenched your fists, trying to suppress the memories that you didn’t need to have right now… So what if his chest felt so warm and firm under his shirt? So damn fine under your touch? What about the way the water droplets seemed to caress his tanned skin? So what if the very same droplets must have rolled down and down and down and… Well, all the way down from his throat to his collarbone to his chest to… You couldn’t help but lick your lips, shaking your head to dismiss the thought.

    It didn’t matter.

    The way he bought you coffee and waited for you on Monday? It didn’t matter. The way his damp hair gave him a sexy vibe that looked like a plead for being warmed up on a cold Tuesday? It didn’t matter. The way he was trying to impress you with good food? It didn’t matter. The way he kept visiting you at your work to ask for indications? It didn’t matter. The way he kept flirting and teasing you around? It didn’t matter.

  None of it mattered because Hyunjin had been pretty clear before.

  He wanted you as a friend.

  A good friend.

   “I think…” You trailed off, darting your eyes away from her “I may…” You gulped down, reconnecting your gazes before sighing heavily “I guess I’m feeling attracted to him…” You admitted.

    It probably wasn’t the reaction she was expecting because Paris just let her mouth hang open as her eyes widened, utterly in shock to hear it coming out of your mouth. You pursed your lips, feeling kinda embarrassed by her reaction, averting your gaze once more as you played with your own fingers, refusing to look at her. Was it that strange for you to feel… Well, some kind of silly attraction towards your stupidly handsome friend?

    You didn’t think so.

    “You don’t need to be so surprised… It’s not like I’m a criminal or something” You muttered, peeking at her for a split of a second before focusing on your hands once more “I think the fake kiss kinda… Awoke something? Like a tiny little spark or something… Nothing too important or any—“ You were just rambling at this point.

    “No!” She blurted, hands waving exaggeratedly in front of her body “I mean- Yes! I’m not… I mean… It’s not that I’m shocked, I’m just���” She floundered her hands around, trying to find the right words in her mind “I think it’s great!” She chortled “Oh my God… Yeah, I think it’s great! It’s great that you have a crush on him or something!” She chirped, and you couldn’t help but frown.

    “How is it great?” You asked warily “We’re literally just friends and he’s the hugest fuckboy we had ever met” You reminded her “There is nothing great in it… Actually, I think that’s the worst thought my brain had ever had” You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

    “He’s not that bad!” She retorted eagerly “He’s actually really sweet!” She added quickly, trying to convince you as she patted your knee “I mean… He’s smart! Isn’t he? You guys are always arguing in class!” You arched your brow at the distorted way to boost him “He also has good grades! I know you like smart guys” She threw you an insistent look.

  Well… You were not so sure the attraction had much to do with his brains.

    “He’s also really funny! You’re always laughing at things he says!” She kept her monologue “He also likes the foods you like! He’s always spending time at the hot dog stand! He even knows your favorite food by now!” She was so excited at all this that it was almost like she was selling him to you “He has an amazing taste for TV shows! I can testify that” She smiled proudly “And he’s also interested in your things! He’s reading the books you like and everything!”

    Yeah… She kinda had a point, to be honest.

    “You said yourself that he had been flirting! So… I mean- It has to mean something, right?” She asked filled with hope, looking at you expectantly “He wouldn’t flirt with someone he doesn’t like! So to the very least, he likes you!” She clasped her hands together, excited.

    “He has been flirting with me even when we hated each other” You pointed out skeptically, and she groaned in frustration.

    “Okay! He’s a fuckboy, I get it! Flirting is what he does” She rolled her eyes, impatient “But he hasn’t been fucking anyone for a while! He has a crush on someone and he’s being really romantic about it!” She insisted, making your chortle.

    “Yeah… Because not fucking people around when you like someone is a great romantic gesture” You sneered “You sound too… Eager to make your point” You narrowed your eyes, tilting your head in suspicion “You’re not being the usual…” You cleared your throat to imitate her “I ship you guys so much!” You chirped mockingly, clapping your hands repeatedly in a short and rapid motion “You’re… Did he tell your something?” You asked curiously.

  “What are you talking about?!” She asked in a high-pitched tone, snorting in a too anxious way to be natural “It’s just that you’ve never shown interest in anyone before! I’m excited!” She dismissed your thought, waving her hand at you “I’ve been waiting for this! The day you would talk to me about boys and stuff like this!” She whined, and for a moment she really did sound sincere enough for you to believe her.

    “It doesn’t matter anyway” You shrugged “You said so yourself… He’s been crushing on someone” You pointed out, uncrossing your arms and returning your gaze to the TV “Also, it’s not like I want to fuck him… Too much trouble, right? I know he isn’t the type to attach… He wouldn’t risk our friendship just to get his dick wet” You reasoned.

    “What if he’s crushing on you?” She asked unsurely, glancing at you.

    “Yeah, right!” You just laughed it off, gesturing for her to hit the play.