#but then we heard bob coming and we were in a place with ZERO hiding spots but we had to try hiding anyways

[kandibatz]

had a dream where for some reason bob was moth themed instead of devil themed and somehow it was so so much more terrifying esp in the context of the dream

[pedros-mustache-main]

baby, it’s cold outside

summary: for too long you’ve been cooped up. perhaps they will be the ones to change that...

word count: 12k

warnings: mostly tropey-wintery goodness, however: accident related trauma and nightmares, language, innuendo, brief suggestive content, absolute timeline inaccuracy but i don’t care!!!!, could also be described as queen x reader but we’ll ignore that

a/n: this is a little different from my normal, but i hope you enjoy this slow and gentle fic as much as i do. happy holidays, dear ones!! 

also thank you to @dancingdiscofloof​ for your help with this one! (if you aren’t reading rove’s deaky fic, you are sincerely missing out.) 

december, 1981. montreux, switzerland. 

day zero.

in the aftermath of the accident, the cabin in the alps has been your saving grace. though the home is overly large for just one person and a cat, you cannot imagine living anywhere other than here. it is a balm to your weary soul, having nursed your broken bones and shattered spirit better than any modern medicine. it is here you began again, rising like a phoenix from the ashes, and it is here you will remain—happily.

you cherish the cabin and all the memories etched within the handcrafted walls and sturdy pine beams. each morning as you make your tea and scratch behind marmalade’s ears, you hear the laughter of your childhood echoing through time and space to reach you in the here and now. each evening as you shut off the lights and secure the doors, you smell your grandfather’s pipe smoke, though the artifact is tucked away on the fireplace mantle, now cold with neglect.

your mother, father, grandfather—they’re all gone now. it’s just you and marmalade. you’re content, though, even as you crawl in bed and snuggle beneath the covers night after night and wake up morning after morning with the promise of another solitary day.

truly, the isolation does not bother you. after the accident, it’s people—crowds and gatherings and meetings—who have become the irritant. wherever people congregate, so too does danger. you’ve experienced your fair share of hazardous situations, so you prefer the quiet mountainside now. there’s less peril, less chance for heartache.

each year, after the last of autumn’s leaves have fallen and snow begins to blanket the alpine hills, you tuck yourself away in the cabin until the end of winter. the larder in your basement remains well-stocked with all the essentials—human, feline, or otherwise—and the weeks come and go without issue. you play your records in the afternoons to fill the silence and watch the television as you eat your suppers. marmalade makes for a good conversational partner when the loneliness creeps in—and it does on occasion. still, the orange tabby cat, fat with laziness and all the love you have to offer, tilts her head when you speak and meows softly when you lift your eyebrows in expectation of a response. she’s all you need, really; but the infrequent calls you have with your boss do make up for your lack of human interaction. editing manuscripts can be done anywhere, and, so long as you meet your deadlines, your boss doesn’t care where you get the work done.

early in december, on a dreary evening, the radio encourages all listeners to batten down the hatches in preparation for a nasty snowstorm due to sweep through the mountain and the valley overnight. you look away from your mug of steaming hot cocoa and shoot marmalade a grin.

“sounds fun, yeah?” you ask her, wiggling your eyebrows.

from her place on the yellow laminate tabletop, marmalade pauses her grooming session. her paw hangs midair, the tip of her tongue hanging over her small chin. she drops her paw as you move to curl your hand beneath her stomach and lift her to your hip.

“i know you like snowstorms just as much as i do,” you say.

leaving the kitchen in favor of the open living room, you nudge the overhead light off with your knuckle. it flickers before shutting off, but soon leaves the cabin illuminated solely by the lights of the christmas tree in the corner. the cocoa trembles along the lip of the mug, so you step gingerly. your socks snag against the faded carpet, but you make it to the sofa in one piece. marmalade hops from your arms and curls herself on the far side of the couch, her tail tucked snug around her body.

knees against your chest, you sip your cocoa and bounce your eyes between the christmas tree and the bay window overlooking montreux’s city-center at the base of the mountain. both the lights of the tree and the lights of the city twinkle in the darkness, rivaling any of the brightest stars. tree branches scrape against the roof, following the path of the wind, and, if you squint hard enough, the first of the snowstorm’s flakes are visible through the pale beam of the floodlight outside.

a sigh rattles your chest, and you smile.

it’s a quiet life. some might say a lonely one. but even if they’re right, you wouldn’t change it.

not for anything.

day one.

you wake up late.

normally, you rise with your alarm and keep to a consistent schedule. it helps with the monotony of your life and stops you from wasting time lounging in the comfort of your bed. some days, though, you allow yourself a few extra hours, and the morning after a snowstorm seems the perfect day to sleep in a tad longer.

it reminds you of childhood—the mornings you listened to the radio beneath your bed covers, fingers crossed your school would be announced as closed due to inclement weather. when the inevitable joy came, you would snuggle back in bed; though by then, the glee of a surprise day off of school was all too much too bear, and you were up and moving within moments.

you smile to yourself at the memory, at the way your mother made pancakes every snow day, without fail. you miss her pancakes.

when marmalade pounces onto the end of your bed, meowing sharply, you sit up. “what? are you hungry?” twisting, you glance at the analog clock across your bedroom. “it’s only nine, marmy.”

she presses your foot with her paw, meowing again.

“fine.”

slipping from bed, you cross to your dresser and drag a brush through your sleep-rustled hair. as always, a sliver of cold seeps in through the skylight overhead, and you lift your face, smiling at the sight of snow obscuring the heavens. your smile only widens as you hurry down the stairs, elbows fighting against the arms of your robe.

the world is drenched in snow. you trip to the bay window, press your hand against the cold glass, and grin. a layer of fluffy white powder clings to every nook and cranny of the mountainside. hints of evergreen peak through as the only spots of color in an otherwise white world. even the sky reflects the dazzling brilliance of the snow, and you have to blink rapidly to keep from going blind.

marmalade’s bell collar jingles as she makes her way down the stairs. she stretches at the bottom step, meowing again when she sees you.

“okay, okay, miss impatient.” you shake your head as you turn from the window. “we have the whole day, you know? ‘s not like there will be much else going on around here.”

you turn on the radio as you enter the kitchen. a soft melody—“merry christmas darling” by the carpenters—sets you to a gentle sway as you pour marmalade’s food and set about making your own breakfast.

karen’s warm voice distracts you from the first knock on your door.

keeping marmalade away from the bacon in the cast-iron skillets hinders you from answering the second.

the third, though—the third knock makes you scream.

it’s not so much of a knock as it is a hand slammed against the outside of the bay window, dark eyes peering into your sanctuary, winter cap pulled tight over any discernible features save a thick mustache. you screech, dropping the spatula in your hand to the floor. marmalade drives for the grease-covered utensil, and you trip over her in your haste to hide in the narrow closet beneath the stairs.

perhaps he hadn’t heard you? perhaps he hadn’t seen the streak of multi-colored fabric as you rushed across the living room in your purple robe and bright yellow socks?

who are you kidding? the bay window offers a glimpse into the majority of your home: the small living room, equally as small kitchen, stairs leading to the bedrooms on the second floor. he probably even saw you fling open the closet door and close it. if he did make it inside, he wouldn’t have to search for long in order to find you.

you press a hand over your mouth, squeezing your eyes shut, at the sound of another bang against the door.

this—this was why your aunt in sheffield had pleaded for you not to take the cabin after the accident. she was so afraid you’d be murdered by a crazed hiker or wayward bear. you’d laughed at the thought back then.

but here you are now, cowering in your closet between a hoover and a winter coat, preparing to make her worst fear a living reality. you only hope marmalade enjoyed the bacon grease as a parting gift.

a muffled voice drifts through the walls after a beat of silence. “for god’s sake, we know you’re in there!”

we? your heart rate triples at the simple, two-letter word. we!

drawing in a deep breath, you root around in the darkened closet for a makeshift weapon. this is your home; you will defend it. or at least do your best to scare off the intruders with whatever fake bravado you can muster.

finding nothing, you inch out of the closet and crawl on your hands and knees toward the kitchen. you pause long enough behind the sofa to peer over the arm. another man has his face pressed against the window, his eyes narrowed as he looks over the room. he looks to his right, long curls bobbing with the motion. his mouth moves, but only garbled sounds meet your ears. while he’s distracted, you crawl into the kitchen and grab the cast-iron skillet. it feels hefty in your palm, and you judge the weight with a turn of your wrist. it could do some serious damage if handled correctly. flicking the oven off and dumping the burnt bacon in the trash, you curl both hands around the handle of the skillet and slink toward the door.

no one stands before the window as you make your way through the living room. no one bangs against the door. yet you can feel their presence on the other side of the flimsy piece of wood separating you from them.

you swallow hard as you grasp the cold doorknob, twisting the lock to the side.

steeling yourself, you grit your jaw, and, in one quick motion, throw open the door, brandish the skillet overhead, and roar like a lioness.

“oh fuck!” one of the four men on your front porch stumbles backward in surprise. his arms pinwheel as he loses his balance and drops to his backside on the snowy ground.

the one with the cascading curls can only stare at you with wide eyes and parted lips, stunned to frozen. for his part, the one with the mustache shields himself behind the one with the curls, shouting for someone named deaky to get her to understand.

it is the one with the straight, grecian nose and storm cloud eyes—deaky, you surmise—who speaks to you first. he holds his arms out in defense, his long fingers splayed wide. he glances between the skillet over your head and your face.

“we’re not here to hurt you,” he says. his voice is even and calm, though more unique than you would have originally guessed. you thought all bad guys had deep voices. his voice is too pleasant, and it sets you further on edge.

you deepen your frown, drawing in another breath. “isn’t that what they all say?”

he frowns. “i don’t know who they are.”

“thieves. murderers. criminals!” you lift your skillet slightly higher, and he flinches backward, hands raising a fraction. “i’m not afraid to use this!”

“i don’t doubt it!” he shakes his head, and his eyelashes flutter when a wayward snowflake catches in his vision. “really, though, we just want to use your phone.”

“my… phone?”

with an exasperated sigh, the blond who’d fallen to his rump in the snow shoulders past deaky. “yes, your phone. you do have one, don’t you? we need to get down this godforsaken mountain before our tits freeze off!”

deaky twists and scowls at his friend, hissing, “roger!”

roger waves him off with a dark look. “deaky, i nearly broke my ass with that stunt she pulled. i’m cold, my trousers are wet, and i want to go home. you’ll have to forgive me if i’m a little terse, you twat.”

the one with long curls and sharp facial features gently moves roger out from under deaky’s increasingly cold stare. he places himself between the pair, towering over the other two. despite his height, he holds his shoulders in a noticeable hunch, as though attempting to make himself smaller. he offers you a wry grin.

“sorry for startling you,” he says. his voice is soft and decidedly unthreatening; your tight hold on the skillet goes slack. “i’m brian. these are my friends—roger, john, and freddie. we’re kind of in a bind, and we’d really appreciate it if you lent us your phone. just for a quick call. then we’ll be gone.”

you glance between the foursome. though roger’s face is still shadowed by frustration, they seem harmless enough. maybe a little cranky, but mostly harmless.

unless, of course, that’s what they want you to think.

your aunt’s warning that you trust too easily plays in the back of your mind, and you consider that she might be right. you bite your lower lip, prepared to turn them away, when marmalade jingles her way into the conversation. she curls around your ankle, head lifted to stare at the four men on her porch. the bell around her neck sounds as she turns from side to side around your leg.

“you didn’t say you had a cat!” the one with the mustache—freddie—coos in delight. he crouches, clicking his tongue to gain marmalade’s attention. after a beat of hesitation, she inches forward to sniff the proffered hand. you watch, and when marmalade nuzzles her nose against freddie’s palm, the tension in your shoulders dissipates.  

you sigh with a conciliatory smile. “well, if she trusts you, i suppose i will too.” stepping to the side, you nod to the living room. “come in and warm up.”

the men mumble various forms of gratitude and shuffle past you, sure to stomp their snowy boots against the welcome mat outside the door. they crowd around the low fire in the fireplace, and you hurry to toss a few logs on the dying embers. deaky takes the fire poker from your hand when you grab it from its place nestled along the extra pile of wood. his fingertips skim your knuckles, and you’re struck by how warm he feelings despite the weather outside. you meet his gaze, your eyes wide as you wait for him to explain.

“i can do that,” he says. “maybe you can show brian the phone?”

now that he’s shed his overcoat, you note the way his pale blue sweater brings out the pale blue of his eyes. he really is quite handsome. they all are, and it’s been a long time since you were in the presence of a handsome man, let alone four. who can blame you for being a little tongue tied?

you blink when you realize you’ve stared a bit too long. heat rushes to your cheeks, and you turn away, scanning the small room for brian. “right, yes. the phone.”

you find brian stood between the living area and the kitchen, his hands in his pockets, stiff while his counterparts make themselves comfortable. roger lounges on the sofa, his legs spread toward the fire. freddie sits at the kitchen table, marmalade snuggled beneath his chin. and with the fire now flooding the cabin with warmth, deaky drops to the single armchair facing the kitchen.

you motion to brian’s wet coat. “would you like to take your coat off, brian? you look awfully damp.”

he shakes his head. “i’m alright.”

you decide not to press and instead point to the phone attached to the wall. “the phone’s just there. do you need a number? or do you have what you need?”

“actually, do you have a number for the gondola lift?”

“yeah, of course.”

you step past him to pull open a junk drawer. apart from a winding, perilous road, the gondola lift is the only way down the mountain for the few people who live mountainside year round.  you’ve gotten to know the owner and operator—jimmy schmits—well after your several years living in the cabin. he or someone on his staff is only a phone call away should you need travel assistance, and you prefer the gondola ride to taking your beat-up car down the rocky, poorly paved road.

you hand brian a small, cardstock business card. “that’s the number there.”

he glances down then gives you a tight smile. “thanks.”

turning to allow him what privacy you can in the cramped space, you glance around the room at the three pairs of eyes staring back at you. the laugh that escapes from behind your lips is decidedly nervous, wavering and forced. “sorry. i just—this is a bit weird for me. i would have dressed the part had i known people were coming over.” you suck in a breath and nod to the refrigerator. “have any of you eaten?”

roger opens his mouth to say something, but deaky hurries to speak first, leaning forward in the armchair. “yes, thank you. we ate early this morning.”

roger’s face contorts to a frown, and, in what you assume is supposed to be a surreptitious move, deaky kicks his friend’s shin to silence any further protest. you look away when deaky’s eyes find yours again, his gaze apologetic.

“i’ll just make some tea, then,” you mumble.

the quiet in the room is thick, save for brian’s soft voice coming from the hall as he talks on the phone. you keep your back to the three men as you prepare a kettle for tea.

you spend much of winter in solitude, and truly, you like it that way. this sudden influx of company has you on edge, especially considering your less-than-becoming attire, bedhead, and sleepy eyes. you don’t know what to say to alleviate the discomfort in the room, aren’t really sure if it’s your job to make them feel comfortable.

really, you aren’t sure about anything this morning.

as you wait for the water to boil, you lean against the kitchen counter and cross your arms over your chest. the fuzzy neck of your robe rubs against your chin as you duck your head, and you study the worn tile floor beneath your long socks.

“what’s your cat’s name?”

you look up. it’s the one with the mustache—freddie. his brown eyes are warm, and he scratches beneath marmalade’s chin as he waits for your answer. for marmalade’s part, she purrs happily in his arms, seemingly more comfortable with your guests than yourself. “marmalade,” you say.

freddie grins, and you can’t help but find yourself smiling back. “perfect name. yet we seem to be missing one important thing…”

“what’s that?”

“your name. if we’re going to intrude upon your cabin and make you uncomfortable, i think we should know who to send the gift basket to once we’re rescued.”

your brow pinches slightly in confusion. freddie speaks with a certain air that you can’t quite place—one of regality, you think. you glance at deaky across the room, and he moves his eyes to the fire as he gnaws on his lower lip.

you look back at freddie, give him your name, then say, “and you’re not making me uncomfortable.”

“please,” freddie deadpans. “i know discomfort when i see it.” he lets marmalade go, who jumps to the floor, padding her way from the tiled kitchen to the carpeted living room. he stands from the table and points to the stove. “the kettle is ready, love.”

you hadn’t heard the sharp whistle, so engrossed were you in your own thoughts.

“oh!” spinning on your heel, you flip the stove-top off and remove the kettle, the whistle dying to a light trill. freddie arranges a ramshackle collection of mugs along the counter, pulled from the spinning rack in the corner. “thank you,” you whisper, as you divvy out the hot water and he drops the tea bags into the mugs.

freddie gathers the milk and sugar, making himself both useful and right at home, which you find you don’t mind too much, though it surprises you how he moves with such ease and command around a home not his own. he must be comfortable anywhere and with anyone, and you envy him that.

he carefully sets the tea tray on the low coffee table in the living room. “how do you take your tea, darling?” he asks you, bending over, his ass pointed near the fire, as he makes to prepare your cup.

you skirt into the living room, shaking your head. “oh, you don’t have to—”

he arches an eyebrow, and his voice is firm when he speaks. “how do you take your tea?”

with a small smile, you lower yourself beside roger on the couch, careful to keep a large space between you. “more sugar than milk, please.”

freddie prepares your cup then passes you the steaming mug. your smile widens in gratitude as you take the warm ceramic from his hands. he prepares his own tea before dropping to the brick ledge of the fireplace. he waves his hand in dismissal at roger and deaky.

“you two make your own,” he quips. “you’ve thoroughly pissed me off this morning.”

from behind the lip of your mug, you pull your mouth into an amused line. your eyes dart to deaky, who is bent forward, frozen as he reaches for a mug of tea. he skewers freddie with an unamused look.

“this isn’t my fault, fred,” he says.

from beside you, roger’s deliciously high voice pipes up. “nor mine!”

“no, of course it isn’t your fault, roger. we wouldn’t dare accuse you of—”

before freddie can finish his sentence, brian returns from the side hall. you shift, turning your head along with the others to hear what came of his conversation with the gondola lift owner.

brian rubs the back of his neck, his eyebrows tilted upward in apology. “well, the gondola is down today.”

“all day?” you speak a little too quickly, and you wince, dropping your eyes to the pale liquid in your mug.

brian nods. “yeah—at least until tomorrow. i guess a tree fell after we were dropped off this morning and struck a line on the lift. and the road isn’t clear, so… we’re stuck.” he glances between his friends, the hunch of his shoulders growing as the weight of their predicament sets in.

“well…” you start. you lean forward to place your tea on a worn coaster. “i certainly won’t turn you out with nowhere to go.” for what feels like the tenth time this morning, you draw in a deep breath through your teeth to steady yourself. “i suppose you lot can stay the night, then. that is, if you want to...”

there’s a beat, a moment of heavy silence, before brian says, “we couldn’t impose like that.”

you frown. “where else would you go?”

roger snorts. “brian would sleep beneath a tree if he thought it might make your life a little easier.”

you glance at roger, uncertain if his words are more jest than jab. the half-smile on his face fades under your questioning gaze, and he shifts. “i just mean,” he continues, “that brian is the most chivalrous out of all of us. not that we have any ugly intentions—”

“roger.” it’s deaky this time, and he sounds more than a little perturbed. “stop talking.”

you hesitate before explaining your offer further. “it’ll be a squeeze,” you say. “but we can make it work. i would rather you spend the night here then wander around in the cold and freeze to death. my closest neighbor is four kilometers off, and she doesn’t have electricity. you won’t be able to find her cabin if it gets dark.”

freddie shivers, though you’re sure his backside is nice and toasty from where he sits close to the fire. “oh good god,” he mutters, bringing his tea close to his mouth. “you people are insane.”

deaky catches your eye, and his brow arches. “if you’re sure…”

you nod. “i’m sure.”

“thank you. honestly, you’re a life-saver.” brian’s shoulders seem to straighten as a smile eases the lines on his forehead. he offers you his hand, which you shake, as he says, “and i’m sorry, but i didn’t catch your name while i was on the phone.”

you give him your name, and he grins, nodding to his friends. “in case you forgot: i’m brian may, and that’s roger taylor, john deacon, and freddie mercury.”

there’s something vaguely familiar about the names, particularly freddie’s, but you can’t quite put your finger on where you’ve heard that lineup before. frowning, you glance between the four men, who stare back at you with expectant sort of faces, as if they’re waiting for the lightbulb above your head to illuminate. you run through the rolodex of names in your brain, but come up short.

“are you performers or something? i swear i’ve heard your names before.”

“we’re in a band,” roger says.

you cringe in apology. “i’m afraid i don’t know bands very well. my radio—i only get one station up here, and it’s mostly yodeling. christmas is the only time of year i can pick up anything worthwhile. got any christmas songs?”

“no, and i’m not sure we will.”

“what band, then? maybe i’ve heard of you on the off chance, but don’t take it to heart if i haven’t.”

freddie leans forward in expectation. “we’re called queen. ring any bells?”

you consider before nodding. “i think so. there’s only one song that comes to mind, though. another one bites the… something? dust, maybe?”

with a laugh, freddie slaps his hand against deaky—john’s knee. “that’s deaky’s song!”

you find yourself smiling—and easily—for the first time since waking. “really? i like it!” shrugging your shoulders in time with the bassline, you do a poor imitation of the song’s opening. beside you, roger laughs, shoving john’s shoulder when a flush creeps up his cheeks. “it’s fun!”

john nods once, mumbling, “thanks.” he drops his cheek to his hand, eyes falling to the carpet, and your smile softens.

you look away, sparing him further embarrassment. “so, i’m in the presence of royalty, i guess, but all i have to offer you is my parent’s old bed, which can fit two, a trundle mattress in my bedroom, and a military cot in the basement.”

brian squeezes your arm in reassurance. “anything will suit us fine. we’re just glad we found you.”

“i’m glad i can help,” you say, and even if it were for this moment alone, you’re glad you never listened to your aunt in sheffield.

day two.

you wake the next morning with a gasp, panic shooting straight to your heart when you roll over and see a man lying on the floor next to your bed. your first instinct is to scream, to call for help, but then the fogginess of slumber lifts from your mind. you recognize the man on the floor, and your defenses drop in relief.

you’d forgotten.

the previous day’s events seem more like something out of a dream than reality. four men—four famous men—appearing on your doorstep? getting stuck in your cabin after a technological malfunction? challenging one another to a game of rock-paper-scissors in order to determine sleeping arrangements? surely you’d made that up, a dream produced by an overactive imagination and too much time alone.

but no—the presence of one john deacon, asleep on the trundle bed extended from beneath your mattress confirms your current reality. you run your eyes over his sleeping face and note the stillness with which he softly snores, one arm tucked behind his pillow. he looks peaceful.

you hope you didn’t disturb his sleep during the night. ever since the accident, nightmares tend to plague your dreams. at least twice a week, you shoot out of bed, drenched in sweat and crying out in the empty darkness of your room. you can’t remember if you’d dreamt at all last night, but you’d shrivel up and die of embarrassment if any of your frantic kicking or mumbling had woken him.

“do you always stare at people when they sleep?”

“shit!” you crash backwards against the wall in surprise at the sound of john’s sleepy voice. your head connects with the paneled wood behind you, and you curse again, rubbing the sore spot on your skull.

“do you always have such a dirty mouth too?” he’s propped up on his elbow now, eyes gleaming with a mischief you hadn’t seen yesterday. his curls lay askew on his head, and his shirt—a flannel pulled from the depths of your grandfather’s belongings—swallows his torso.

continuing to rub your head, you frown. “do you always insist on asking so many questions this early in the morning?”

“only when people stare at me while i sleep.”

you drop your hand, wrinkling your nose in embarrassment. “sorry.” although the tip of your nose is cold, your cheeks feel warm with a flush. “i didn’t think you were awake, and i was… thinking. i wasn’t really staring at you.”

half-truth. maybe a quarter-truth. your four guests are handsome—each of them in their own right—but john… he has the potential to make your knees go wobbly should he flash you one of his secretive and elusive grins.

but, in all truth, you were thinking of other things as you’d looked down at him: thinking about the day and your work and how soft his hair looked and the strength of his nose and—

john rolls off the trundle bed. when he stands, he swivels his arms back and forth, stretching his back muscles. “’s okay. i’m getting used to it.” before you can ask him what he means, he points to the skylight in the middle of your room. “i’ve got a feeling we’re in for a rude awakening.”

your gaze follows his extended finger, and you huff when you see the skylight entirely darkened by a heavy layer of snow. yesterday afternoon, you had still been able to make out the sun’s rays through the unmelted snow leftover from the recent storm. now, the skylight serves more as an extension of your stippled ceiling than an opportunity to glimpse the night sky.

“must have been another storm last night,” you say, slipping out of bed.

you don’t miss the way john’s eyes immediately flit to your legs and your exposed thighs. your nightshirt falls to the middle of your thighs, a long pair of socks pulled over your knees your only leg coverings. his eyebrows shoot up his forehead, his lips slightly parted, but he looks away when you shift uncomfortably with the hem of your shirt. damn your mother for passing on her penchant for hot sleeping!

he gathers his clothes from a chair in the corner and nods to the door. “i’ll just go… change downstairs.”

your nod is too enthusiastic to be anything but embarrassed. “yeah, okay. i’ll be down in a moment. help yourself to whatever you find in the kitchen.”

john, holding his clothes to his chest, leaves the room in a hurry, his head down and eyes averted. when the door shuts, the lock giving a soft click as it slides home, you drop to your bed with a groan.

it might be a long day.

after fixing your hair and pulling on a fresh pair of jeans and sweater, you make your way down the stairs and into the living room. a chill hangs in the air, one much deeper than the general winter cold. it goes straight to your bones and makes your teeth chatter in your skull. shivering, you circle your arms around your waist, prepared to go start a fresh fire in the hearth, but something in the corner of your eye stops you.

your guests—all four of them in a line, their mismatched heights on full display—staring out the bay window.

“what is it?” you ask, bending to lift marmalade from the floor when she jingles her way over from the kitchen. “did it really snow that much?”

roger looks over his shoulder, and the disappointment shadowing his face gives you pause. “come see for yourself.” he drops to the couch with a defeated groan, cradling his forehead in his hand.

holding marmalade against your shoulder, you tiptoe to the window, the floor beneath your feet unusually frigid. you exhale at the sight of the fresh snowfall, and your breath clouds the windowpane. a thick layer of white powder covers the mountainside. as far as your eye can see, there’s nothing but pure white. it’s blinding in the morning sun, and you blink against the glistening snowflakes.

“it’s got to be at least one meter,” brian whispers. “maybe more.”

freddie shakes his head back and forth, gesturing to the side. “i can’t even see the bloody porch steps. they’ve been swallowed!”

john shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “no power either.”

you twist to stare at him in shock. “what? no power?”

he gives you the briefest of glances then returns his gaze to the window. “i checked the breaker. it’s all out.”

from the couch, roger groans again. “which means we are stuck for the foreseeable future. brian called the gondola and they couldn’t even pick up, so that’s out of the question.” he slumps further down the couch cushions. “i had a fucking holiday party planned for next week.”

“now wait a minute.” brian turns from the window and reaches over to give roger’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “the snow will clear up before then. it’ll just be a few more days. that is”—his eyes slide to you—“if you’ll let us stay?”

you glance between your guests before laughing in indignation. “you didn’t really think i’d turn you out, did you?” marmalade hops from your arms when you plant your hands on your hips. “honestly, i might be somewhat of a recluse, but i’m not completely rude.”

freddie skirts around john to place both hands on your shoulders and steer you toward the kitchen. “no one thinks you’re rude, darling. we just didn’t want to assume.” he jerks his head toward john. “now, john will start the fire and we’ll all get cozy and perhaps play a game of scrabble. roger found the board downstairs last night. how does that sound?”

you meet john’s eyes over freddie’s shoulder, and he smiles—ever so slightly, but enough to drop your defensive stance. you nudge freddie with your arm and nod. “scrabble it is.”

after breakfast, you are quickly bested in the shortest game of scrabble you’ve ever played. it seems your guests are quite the experts, so you leave them to their fun in order to complete a series of edits on your latest manuscript. from the kitchen table, you can hear them bickering over whether or not freddie’s addition is a dictionary defined word or whether or not john can go twice in one turn because roger knocked his letters from the coffee table.

the gentle hum of conversation—of life—warms your chest. it’s been a long time since your home felt lived in. for so long you have simply subsisted, moving from room to room to change the scenery, leaving the mountain only when necessary, never truly engaging with the outside world. it’s easier to live alone—there’s less risk in it, less wondering if today could be the last day you interact with a loved one because fate has some cruel trick up its sleeve.

but, damn, if having roger and john and brian and freddie grace your living room doesn’t remind you of how irritatingly necessary other people are to living a truly fulfilled life.

brian asks if he can prepare a light lunch, and while he does, you gather your work and set it aside. you have a deadline—the first of the year—but for the moment, you’d rather engage with others instead of shoving your head deep within the made-up realms of your novelists.

with a dramatic stretch, you raise your arms above your head and groan as the muscles pop in your back.

“all done, then?” freddie asks.

“for now,” you say.

he pats the open spot of the couch between himself and john, and you squeeze between them, tilting your socked feet toward the roaring fire. you find yourself still shivering slightly, despite the extra layer beneath your sweater and warm wool socks. if you remember correctly, your father had complained of poor insulation in the attic. you wish, perhaps a bit selfishly, he’d gotten that fixed before his passing.

“here.” john shimmies one side of the blanket draped over his shoulders around yours. “we can share.”

“thanks,” you whisper, grabbing the corner he offers and pulling it around your back. the movement draws him closer, the outside of his thigh pressed tightly against yours. he feels warm, though, like your own little space heater, and you resist the urge to lean into him for further comfort. instead, you focus your attention on freddie, who explains how he and his bandmates came to be stranded on a swiss mountainside.

“so, really, it’s roger’s fault that we’re in this predicament,” freddie says. “he was the one who wanted to go skiing.”

you tilt your head to the side, confused as you glance toward the front door. “where is all your gear, then? you didn’t bring any in.”

john sighs with a shake of his head. “we forgot that in the hotel.”

“no one is brilliant at five am, dear. except for maybe brian, but even he failed to remind us that the first rule of skiing is you need skis.” freddie shrugs his shoulders. “oh well. it brought us to you, didn’t it?”

smiling, you nod. beside you, john shifts a little closer. his free hand rests on his leg, but his pinky finger extends outward, brushing along the outer seam of your jeans. your grin widens.

“yeah, i suppose it did.”

day three.

it’s just past midnight when you tumble from the depths of your nightmare.

the accident—replaying—over and over and over. the twist of the car over the edge of the ravine. you, powerless, helpless as you watch from the safety of your grandfather’s truck. the crunch of metal against rock and tree and—

—and the ultimate knowledge that there was no way your parents could survive such a fall settling over your heart like a three-ton brick.

you jerk awake with a barely-contained screech. clamping your hand over your mouth, you squeeze your eyes shut, willing away the images that flash through your mind like some sort of cruel slideshow. blood and guts and screams and—

a warm hand on your shoulder, soft voice in your ear saying your name, pulls you back to reality. “hey. hey, wake up.”

your eyes flutter open, sleeve of your shirt caught between your teeth where you bite down hard. in the dim light of the room, you can make out the angles of john’s face, the line of his nose, pout of his lips. a soft glow—from the nightlight in the corner, you think—shrouds the curls on his head, giving him the curve of a halo.

your ribs shudders as you exhale. he looks like an angel, an angel sent to save you perhaps. never in your lift have you so badly wanted to embrace someone in relief.

instead, you drop the hand from your mouth and lean closer to the wall at your side, away from him. “huh? wha—oh… john, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to wake you.”

his grip on your shoulder tightens, and he ignores your apology. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing. just a nightmare.”

“some nightmare.” john’s hand slips from your shoulder to your elbow, and he rubs his cheek with his opposite hand. “you hit me.”

“fuck, did i? oh hell, john.”

scrambling to your knees, you frown into the darkness, searching for a welt or bruise blossoming on his cheek. it’s too dark to see clearly, though, and you sigh in defeat, hanging your head. embarrassment swells in your stomach, wrenching it side to side, and you turn your face away, hoping against hope that he can’t see the evidence of your fluster.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper.

more than anything, more than the embarrassment roiling through your system and the nerves wracking your chest, you find yourself feeling frustrated. two day—two days with queen in the house, and two days you’ve felt a magnetic pull towards john. maybe you’re just lonely and maybe you’re just reading too much into the stolen glances and brushes of his hand against yours, but having him here in the house with you? tossing your sideways looks when freddie says something that makes you laugh and helping you pull the biscuit tin from its place on the top of the shelf? you’d thought that maybe—just maybe—he might see something worthwhile in you, too.

but no rockstar could put up with you. surely, he must see that plainly now. your fear of crowds and loud noises and your night terrors—that’s not made for the high life. he would go once he got the chance, forget about you and you cat in the cabin on the mountainside. why you ever considered for a moment he would do otherwise further stokes the shame threatening to consume you.

you fiddle with the sheets and blankets gathered around your knees. “you can sleep downstairs, if you like,” you say in a rush. your grip tightens on the quilt binding, and you rub your thumb back and forth across a frayed string. “i won’t mind.”

john remains still and quiet for so long you think he must’ve fallen back asleep. but then he stands, and he gently nudges your shoulder.

“scoot over,” he urges, and you find yourself inching closer to the wall without a second thought. john slides into bed next to you, his body warm and strong. “is this okay?”

you nod because, truly, yes, it is okay with you. very much okay.

“when i was little,” he starts, adjusting the quilts around his chest, his ankle brushing your leg. “i had this dog, and any time i had a nightmare, he would crawl into bed with me, help it all go away. i know i’m not as fluffy as a dog, but… well, i thought maybe we might see if this helps it go away.” he pauses for a breath and asks again, “is that okay?”

“yeah, yeah, it’s okay.” your voice is a puff of air, and if it were any colder, you’re sure your breath would crystalize.

“good.” he settles deeper into your shared pillow, and you catch a whiff of your shampoo in his hair. it makes your stomach clench, not from embarrassment, but an entirely different emotion. beneath the covers, one of his hands slips over the curve of your wrist, and his fingers tangle with yours. he gives your palm a squeeze. “go back to sleep.”

you do—easily.

john’s heartbeat is steady beneath your ear when your eyes flutter open for the second time. you’d rested without struggle for the first time in a long time. your shoulders feel loose, your eyes free from heavy circles.

and it’s all because of john.

your cheek is firm against his chest, and the fabric of your grandfather’s flannel still smells like his cigar smoke, but there’s something else, something distinctly john, and it’s all you can do to not turn your face further into his chest and snuggle closer to his side. he’s warm, and you’re still cold despite the heavy blankets cocooning you. his arm is slung over your back, drawing you tighter to his chest, his face turned to the side as he breathes softly in sleep.

you should get up, go downstairs, and find something to eat, check to see if the power has returned. you’d rather stay here, in this quiet, still moment, until the rest of the world fades away and you are left with him and him alone. your wish isn’t meant to be, it seems, because just as you are prepared to lean further into john’s warmth and return to sleep, freddie bursts through the door.

you jolt upwards at the sound of the door slamming against the wall. john is right behind you, and his arm instinctively tightens around your back.  

the grin on freddie’s face is positively shit-eating, and he puts his hands on his hips as he looks between you and john with something between pride and amusement. “oh! well, well, well, what do we have here?!”

“fuck, fred.” john releases his hold on you, moving to run a hand down his face to cover his yawn. “damn near pissed myself.”

“yes, i’m sure.” freddie chuckles to himself then cocks his head toward the open door. “make yourselves presentable. we’ve got decorating to do.”

he exits without further explanation, leaving a ball of confusion and uncertainty in your stomach and a proverbial elephant in the room. you fiddle with the end of your sleeve, wondering if john thinks the silence is as thick as you do.

“you seem to have slept better,” he says at last.

you turn, and his face is so near yours you could kiss him. instead, you just nod and say, “yes, i did. thanks to you.”

he shrugs, shaking his head. “i’m a selfish guy. i didn’t want to get hit again. seemed the easiest way to spare me the pain.”

somehow you know he’s joking. you know he slept as well as you because of your body pressed against his. you know he feels the spark, and he’s waiting for the moment to light the flame.

perhaps it’s the crinkles around his eyes when he smiles, or the quick wink you nearly miss, that tell you you’re not crazy, that he feels it too. or maybe… maybe he’s the other half of the string that’s tied beneath your ribs. the string is no longer stretched and pulled taut, but relaxed, made light by fate and nature conspiring to bring you together.

or maybe you’re reading something that isn’t there again.

you look away first, but can’t keep the giddy smile from your face. he makes your heart feel weightless. and after being weighed down for so long, you feel as if you could do anything.

john gathers his clothes and changes downstairs while you get dressed for the day. by the time you make it to the living room, brian hands you a warm-ish glass of orange juice and a bowl of cereal while roger tends the fire and freddie sits on the floor, marmalade sniffing around the open boxes of christmas décor at his feet. 

unbidden, tears spring to your eyes, and you tighten your hold on the glass in your hand.

three christmases you’ve been alone. three christmases you’ve avoided the tried and true rituals of your childhood. three years you’ve missed this, the warmth of friendship and togetherness.

your heart gives a painful lurch at the thought of all you’ve missed out on, all you’ve neglected in order to save yourself from pain. only, perhaps you’ve driven yourself to much more pain, shutting yourself away on the mountain as you have.

john appears at your side, and his hand comes to rest on the curve of your neck, his finger tracing the edge of your jaw. “what is it?” he whispers, low enough so only you can hear.

clearing your throat, you grin up at him. “i’m just happy.”

his eyes scan the room before he dips his head and presses his lips to your temple. his grip on the back of your neck tightens as he lingers against your skin. your eyes flutter shut, and you lean closer to him, warmth spreading from the crown of your head to the soles of your feet. he releases you after a moment, nudging you forward with a hand to the small of your back.

you drop to the carpet beside freddie and take a bite of your cereal. “where did you find all this? i didn’t know i’d kept it.”

“i found it, actually,” roger says from his place in the kitchen.

“and you found the scrabble board too… if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you were snooping around my house.”

“so what if i am?” roger shrugs. “i’m bored as hell without the tellie. there’s loads of stuff downstairs just waiting for me to snoop through.” he finishing tacking something to the archway of the kitchen before stepping into the living room, hands in his pockets.

“roger, stop your griping and sit down.” brian nods to the open armchair. “we haven’t had this much time off in ages. enjoy it while you can.”

“really, why do you keep all this marvelous stuff downstairs?” freddie asks. he sifts his hands through the box on his lap, filled with tinsel and ribbons your mother collected over the years. “you have a tree, but that’s it. your entire cabin could be dripping with christmas cheer if you wanted.”

“it’s just me,” you say. as if understanding, marmalade gives a petulant meow. you smile and scratch behind her ears. “and marmy, i guess. there’s no reason to go above and beyond if it’s just me.”

brian’s brow furrows in concern. “your parents? siblings?”

“my parents died about five years ago, my grandfather shortly after. there’s no siblings. just me.” rising from your place on the floor, you gather your empty breakfast bowl and the leftover plate sitting adjacent.

it’s quiet as you deposit the dishes in the sink. the story of your parent’s tragic accident and grandfather’s health decline has never been a mood booster; this you well know. still, you feel obligated to tell your guests. no—not obligated. willing. you love your parents and your grandfather, but you’ve neglected their memory too long.

you turn from the sink. “why don’t we put the decorations up? in their memory.”

freddie’s smile is soft, affectionate. he nods resolutely. “a lovely idea.”

brian puts a christmas record on the turntable, and the house seems to sigh in relief as life, happiness, and festive cheer fills the rooms after so long. roger tosses handfuls of tinsel upon the sparsely decorated tree, his hips swaying to the beat of the music, and freddie directs brian in hanging garland over the mantelpiece and around the staircase banister. you sit beside john on the floor, stringing popcorn along a piece of string. your hands are salty and warm from the popcorn, and his shoulder brushes yours as you work.

“you know,” he says. “my dad died when i was young.”

you pause, an unpopped kernel between your fingers. “really? sorry—i don’t mean to sound so surprised. i just—you didn’t say anything, so…”

he brushes your hurried apology away with a shake of his head. “i was eleven. changed me forever. i don’t really remember much of my childhood, you know, ‘cause of that.”

“oh, john.” though your fingers are slick with salt and butter and grease, you cover his hand with yours. he looks up from the half-filled bowl, and leans closer, his shoulder pushing against yours. “i’m sorry. that—no child should have to lose their parent at a young age.”

“i don’t tell you to feel sorry for me.” he removes his hand from beneath yours and continues to string the popcorn, but there’s no malice or hostility in his words—just truth. “i’m just saying it because i know how it feels to lose a parent early. it’s… devastating.”

you nod, twisting your mouth to side and looking away from his searching gaze. “yes, it is.” drawing in a deep breath, you face him again. “i think i dwell too much on the sadness, though. there’s happiness in their memory, and i forget that. but you lot helped me remember. you helped me remember.”

john ducks his head on a shy grin, his cheeks pink with blush.

heart tripping in your chest, you stand and return to the kitchen to refill the popcorn bowl while he drapes the first completed string around the tree. as the popcorn pops, you tuck your face near your shoulder, smiling to yourself. three days ago, you’d gone to bed thinking you knew what christmas would look like this year: desolate and lonely, with only your cat by your side and work to fill your days. how could you have guessed? how could you have known what nature would bring your way?

when you turn, the freshly filled bowl cradled in the crook of your arm, you stop short. roger, a sideway grin on his face, stands in the doorway of the kitchen. he jerks his chin upwards, and you follow his eyeline to the sprig of faux mistletoe tacked to the ceiling.

you roll your eyes. “so, that’s what you were doing. you really are a trouble-maker, roger.”

“come on, it’s tradition, love. just one kiss?” he opens his arms slightly, beckoning with a wave of his fingers.

you huff with mock indignance, but your cheeks warm at the thought of roger taylor wanting to kiss you of all people. the little you know of queen and their stardom is knowledge enough to tell you that roger has kissed far worthier people. they all have, probably. you—you’re just a country bumpkin, hardly interesting or captivating enough for his—or any of their—attentions.

that, at least, is what you would have told yourself three days ago. today, the thoughts tumble through your head, but you push them aside with a newfound sense of confidence. it doesn’t mean anything, anyway. it’s just a mistletoe kiss. and you think you’d regret it forever if you turned him down.

before you can stop yourself, you step forward, and roger rightly takes the movement as an agreement. he kisses you soundly, one hand feather-light in the center of your back. you don’t let the connection linger too long for fear you will lose yourself to the moment. roger is kind and charming, but he’s not… well, he’s not john, and the thought of john and whatever it is he means to you makes you pull away after a few seconds.

from their place in the living room, freddie and brian cheer, clapping in response to the good-natured fun. you duck your head, but smile all the same and drop to your spot beside john. you hand him the bowl of popcorn, but he doesn’t start stringing the new line. he just looks at you, his eyes roaming your face, barely so much as a frown pulling his brow tight or downward tilt of his mouth wringing his lips in a scowl. he just… stares, openly, without pretense, and you suddenly wish you’d turned roger down. though the feeling of roger’s lips still lingers on yours and the kiss wasn’t unpleasant in the slightest, john’s arms around your waist while you sleep leaves much more of an imprint on your skin. his soft breath when he sleeps, the perfect rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear—it all is so much better than a silly mistletoe kiss with roger.

a muscle ticks in john’s jaw, the only evidence of possible frustration. you look away and continue stringing popcorn along the line.

“i wanted to be the one to kiss you.”

at the sound of john’s mumbled words, you trip over a mislaid shoe in the middle of your darkened room. he’d gone to bed earlier than everyone else, leaving you and the others to play another round of scrabble until well after the sun disappeared. you’d considered following him when he made his exit and explaining your kiss with roger, but you’d decided it against it.

neither roger nor john could stake any claim over you or your actions, and you’d wanted to kiss roger. not to piss john off, not to push him away, but purely because you’d wanted to. maybe you wouldn’t do it again, not after seeing the crestfallen look on john’s face. but you’d done it, and there was no shame in it.

you grip the edge of the bed frame, bent at the waist, frozen in the way you’d tripped. “what?” the word is a sharp exhale in the already tense room.

���you heard me: i wanted to be the one to kiss you.”

you aren’t sure what to say, so the first thing that comes to mind slips from your mouth. “well… you didn’t.”

john huffs and hops off his spot atop your bed. the snow covering your skylight has started to melt in the last day or so, allowing slim rays of moonlight to pierce the darkness of your room. the moonlight coupled with your nightlight illuminates only the sharpest features on john’s face, and while any other evening you might think the line of his jaw or definition of his nose might be alluring, tonight, coupled with the scowl on his brow, you wish you could see him clearly. he stands in the center of the room, hands on his hips, and you straighten, run your fingers through your rumpled hair.

“you could have,” you whisper. “but you didn’t.”

“beneath the mistletoe?” he scoffs like the mere implication is an offense. “no. that’s not what i meant.”

“what did you mean, then? you can’t just say you wanted to be the one to kiss me with no explanation. i’m not some plaything, john. you boys might be used to that, being famous or whatever, but—”

“no.” his voice is stern, commanding, resolute. you shut your mouth with a snap. “you drive me crazy, you know that?” he steps forward; you step back. “you think you’re so insignificant, that you’re not good enough for anybody.”

your frown and retreat another step when he advances. “i don’t know what you’re—”

he cuts you off as though your protest went in one ear and out the other. “you’re shy, sure, but you’re brave. i mean, dammit you live all the way up here by yourself, and you nearly fought us off with a fuckin’ frying pan.”

he sighs. but then his arm extends, his fingers hovering over your cheek. when you don’t flinch, don’t so much as move a muscle, he covers your cheek with his palm, his fingertips tracing the edges of your hair. “you’re a lot like me. we have a lot in common.”

your heart lurches—not out of pain or regret, but anticipation. a lump of excitement clogs your throat, and it’s hard to swallow, hard to think, hard to breathe, with john so near and his words so intoxicating.

“john…” your eyelids flutter shut, your head tilting into the warmth of his palm. “i—”

“i wanted to kiss you because i like you, not because you’re the only bird here, but because i like you and i think we have a lot—”

you surge forward on a burst of assertiveness. grabbing the edges of john’s night shirt, you drag him forward and slot your mouth over his. his lips are smooth, and once he registers what you’ve done, he responds with equal parts ferocity and tenderness. one hand bunches the fabric of your shirt at your waist, the other grips the back of your neck, holding you against him like you might be blown away by the wind at any moment.

after a moment, he pulls away, rolling his forehead over yours. “tell me to stop and i will.”

you kiss him again, chaste and fast enough to draw back and murmur, “don’t stop,” before losing your nerve.

john circles his arms around your back, then, resuming his careful but hungry attack on your mouth, your cheeks, your neck. you wind your arms around his shoulders, drawing him tight, and you don’t make it to the bed before collapsing to the floor in a heap of passion.

day four.

the power comes back on the next day, and by late evening, jimmy schmits from the gondola service calls to tell you everything will be back up and running by morning. your guests are pleased. they’re eager to get back to the comforts they’re accustomed to, and you don’t blame them. four days in an unheated cabin with rapidly spoiling food in the fridge is not typical rockstar accoutrement. still, they tell you they’ve thoroughly enjoyed their break from reality, and you respond in kind. it was as much as break for you as it was for them.

on that last evening, the lights are kept off for the final time. the fire in the hearth permeates the room with its light, though you don’t need its warmth as much now that the heater is back on. the christmas tree sparkles in the corner, and a few candles flicker in the kitchen and hallway. brian sits in the armchair, your father’s old acoustic on his lap. roger, of course, had found it buried in a spare closet, and he suggests brian play to close out the night.

you lean your back against john’s chest where he sits on the couch. his arm is draped around your body, his fingers running nonsensical patterns over your waist. the back of your head rests against his shoulder, and you feel like you could walk on water you’re so light. all the stress, the aches and pains you’ve carried for so long, have melted like the snow. john is to thank for that, as are the others, but mostly him. he’d pegged you quite right with his speech the night before: shy and unsure of yourself and entirely unconvinced of your own worth. but you’re on the mend, you think.

insignificant? you? no, not anymore. not when he looks at you and holds you close.

brian cringes when he gives an experimental strum of the guitar and something akin to a high-pitched whine hits the air. “oh wow. this hasn’t been played in a while.” he looks up, pulling his mouth to the side in a wry grin. “sorry,” he says when he meets your eyes. “i just have to tune it some.”

“go ahead,” you say. “do what you have to.”

brian adjusts the tuners at the top of the guitar before plucking and pulling the strings in time to a gentle rhythm. when he opens his mouth, he begins to sing. “have yourself a merry little christmas. let your heart be light.”

freddie joins him, scooting forward on the other side of the couch, marmalade snug in his lap. “from now on our troubles will be out of sight.”

when roger jumps in for the bridge, the trio’s voices mingle together in the air like pieces of a puzzle. each part is distinctive and unique, but no less important to creating the larger picture. you snuggle closer to john and feel the vibrations of his chest against your back as he hums, his finger tapping along your shoulder.

“once again, as in olden days, happy golden days of yore. faithful friends who are dear to us will be near to us once more.”

tears cloud your vision, and you tighten your grip on the arm draped over your stomach.

tomorrow your guests will return to their normal lives, lives of fantasy and extravagance. you will return to your hum-drum existence, and the holiday will come and go with little fanfare. but if this is the only gift you will receive this christmas—this time with the hodge-podge musicians that make up queen, this time with john—you will take it with no expectation for anything more.

you’d forgotten what it was like to live with joy and freedom, some semblance of your life prior to the accident. john, freddie, roger, brian—they’d helped you remember, and for that you are forever indebted to them.

clearing your throat, you twist slightly in john’s arms, enough to tilt your head back and let your eyes roam his face. he looks down at you, lips caught in a serene smile. you brush your fingers along the line of his jaw.

“merry christmas, john,” you whisper.

he hums in approval, grinning, before lowering his mouth to kiss you softly. “merry christmas, darling.”

six months later.

it’s hot out, the summer sun roasting you through the thick glass of the gondola. you could drive your car down the mountain, but you prefer the gondola. the gentle sway of the hanging car, the way the buildings in montreux slowly grow taller as you inch closer to the city—it’s all a part of the journey, and you enjoy it, find a comforting rhythm in the predictability.

today, you have an empty basket on your lap, your ankles tucked beneath the bench, as you make your way to the farmer’s market that pops up once a month. it’s a simple little thing, and you often only leave with a few ripe fruits and handful of fresh-cut flowers, but ever since your christmas with queen, you’ve been venturing out more. not enough to truly consider yourself a social butterfly, but you enjoy the odd afternoon at the farmer’s market or dinner in one of the pubs where you listen to the local bands play. you’ve made a friend—your first friend in ages—and heather only further helps to draw you out of your reclusive nature.

then, of course, there’s john. he helps too, always does.

when he’d left in december, he made no promises, and you didn’t expect him to. after all, you’ve only really been with him in person for four days; that’s hardly enough time to build a lasting sort of connection.

still, he calls when he can, and you catch up, but there’s no real agreement between you both. yet he continues you to encourage you to get out more, going so far as to ship you a bicycle you can ride the mountain trails on. he promises to come ride with you one day, but you won’t hold him to it. it’s the thought that counts.

for the first time in years, you’re happy, sincerely happy. you once thought that living by yourself, away from the world so you couldn’t be hurt, was enough to be content, and for a time, you were content. but then you’d been forced to remember, to remember how much you need others, and now that you can accept that, loneliness no longer pervades your home or your person. you walk with purpose; your smile comes naturally; your shoulders sway with ease.

it’s still a quiet life, but a much happier one.

you disembark the gondola with your eyes scanning the small list of items it would be worthwhile to buy—a new vase, a bouquet of flowers for the dinner party you’re hosting for heather and her siblings in two days, a necklace to replace the one marmalade broke—and you barely noticed when you bump shoulders with someone boarding the gondola car. you startle, though, when a hand wraps around your wrist and someone says your name.

you turn, lift your eyes, and gasp, your heart leaping to your throat. “john deacon!” it’s practically a squeal, and john shushes you with a fast hand over your mouth.

he glances around to see if anyone heard you or cares, and it seems the world is too busy with their own affairs to study john deacon and the girl he has pinned against his chest, his arm around her back and hand over her mouth. his eyes sparkle when he returns his gaze to you. “hush! don’t blow my cover!”

you swat his hand away, but don’t move out of his grasp. “what are you doing here?!”

he nods his head to the gondola car, now filled, the doors shut and prepared for departure. “i could ask you the same thing.”

you flush unwillingly and shrug your shoulders. “i actually leave the house now.”

“really?!” john releases his tight hold on your back, giving you breathing space, but doesn’t move his feet. when he speaks, his breath—recently freshened with a mint—fans your face. “i was actually on my way up to surprise you, but it looks like you’ve beaten me to the surprise.”

your heart, still lodged in your throat, skips a beat. “you were coming to see me?”

“’course i was.”

“i didn’t know you were in montreux.”

he nods. “we’re recording. should be here a month or two. just got here yesterday.”

you grin. your cheeks pinch in a slight ache, such unrestrained joy still uncustomary to your muscles. “and you were coming to see me?”

while you grin and reach forward to toy with the edge of john’s shirt, he frowns. “’course i was,” he repeats. “you say that like you’re surprised.”

“well, it was your intention to surprise me, right?”

“of course i would come see you if i was in town.” john nudges your shoulder with his hand then covers your bicep with his palm, squeezing lightly. “you’re my girl.”

you tilt your head to the side. “your girl?”

he nods, steps closer, and holds your other arm. “yeah,” he says, his voice gone deeper, gravely. “my girl.” this thumb brushes along the exposed skin of your shoulder, tanned by the sun. “i told you in december: i like you. the last six months have been… hectic, but i was always going to come back.”

tucking your lower lip between your teeth, you narrow your eyes as you wind your arms around his neck. the hair at the nape of his neck is soft as you play with it. “i would say really and not believe you. but i seem to remember someone telling me that i’m a lot more significant than i give myself credit for.”

john laughs, and the sound pierces your heart like cupid’s bow. “what genius said that?”

you shrug your shoulders, rolling your eyes. “i dunno, but i took it to heart.”

“did you? good. then maybe you’ll be more inclined to say yes when i ask you to come on tour with me, with all of us.”

“oh, you were going to ask that?”

“part of my surprise.”

leaning forward, you feather your lips over john’s. “ask me, then,” you whisper, grinning even further when you feel a shiver run down his back.

“come with us. come with me. let me take you around the world.”

the you of six months ago flares in your chest, telling you to say no, to stay home where it is safe. the you of six months ago tells you that john is just being nice, that he doesn’t see you as anything serious.

but the you of today…

the you of today just smiles and kisses john soundly. you move your mouth over his like he is your dance partner, like you were made for one another, and maybe you were. he tastes sweet, feels even sweeter against your body, and you wonder if this is what your parents felt like when they first fell in love. as your mother tells it, she thought your father had hung the stars in the sky, and when you pull back to look at john, the same thought comes to mind.

“so is that a yes?”

you nod. “i’d go anywhere with you, john deacon.” another thought pops to the forefront of your mind, and you fist your hand in john’s shirt with a frown. “but wait: who will watch marmalade?”

[euphoniumpets]

Addiction | The weeping monk x reader (SMUT)

Summary: After riding for hours, trying to search for a shelter to stay for the night, the three of you came across a cabin in the woods, as a young woman who offers to help to heal Lancelot’s wounds. The reader and Lancelot are then forming a bond with each other. 

Authors Note: Okay, I know what you guys are thinking, a Lancelot fanfic?? My first smut?? Oh, yees. Also, I want to say that this is my first smut so this will be not be the best at the first time but, hey. Also, this is kind of what I imagine after my ordinary series? lmao. Hope you guys enjoy this bcz I miss writing Lancelot. Also, so sorry if this is so long bcz again, I have no zero self control. Also, someone plz give me holy water. Also, tagging those ppl bcz i want to see their reaction to this  😂

Tag list: @purerepelsdirt​ @weeping-redemption​ @parabatai-winchester​

Warnings: SMUT (obvs), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids) fingering, oral (both female & male), soft smut but like also rough smut at the end?? 

A sigh left your lips as the sky were in a midnight sky above you. Your exhausted tired eyes was looking at the path in front of you as you tried to keep your eyes open. After the battle with the trinity guards and the reader saved Lancelot from giving up and getting himself killed, the trio was now searching for a safe place to stay. 

After hours of riding, they found smoke as they rode closer, Squirrel spotted a cabin not to far from them. ‘’Y/n, Lancelot, look!’’ Squirrel exclaimed as your exhausted eyes looked up as you saw a cabin. You could feel your stomach growling and the warmth from Lancelot who had his arms wrapped around you and his head on your shoulder. 

Everybody was pretty much exhausted from earlier as the horse stopped and Squirrel jumped off from the horse. You tied the rope around a tree or a branch before you helped Lancelot. You let out a grunt as you tried to lift him down on the ground as he had his arm around you. 

Squirrel ran towards the cabin as he knocked several times. A young woman with brown hair and brown eyes opened the door as she widened her eyes. ‘’Please, help us, my friend is hurt!’’ He pleaded the woman as Squirrel turned his look over to you and Lancelot. She could see how you struggeled to keep him up and he was about to close his eyes. 

The woman nodded as she and Squirrel ran towards you as she placed his other arm around herself. With the help of her, she led you into the cabin where she placed Lancelot on a bed. She began to patch Lancelot off as you looked at him with concerned eyes as his eyes were closed. 

-

It has been several hours since you met up with the woman. It turned out that her name was Irina and she was a fey. You had gotten to know her under the time she was cooking a meal for you and Squirrel. ‘’He’s quite a chatty boy,’’ She chuckled along with you. 

You smiled softly when you saw Squirrel, sleeping peacefully on the bed for the first time in forever. The fireplace was lit up and you could feel the warmth spreading through your body. ‘’Yeah, he is, the only problem is that you can’t shut him up,’’ 

A silence passed by between you two before Irina looked at you with curious eyes. ‘’How did you three end up here?’’ You turned to her with the bowl and the spoon in your hands as you placed them at the table. You didn’t know if you could trust her that easily but your gut told you something else. 

‘‘That’s a story you get for another time,’’ You replied with a smile as you got up from your chair and towards Squirrel. He was placed on the couch in front of the fire place as you placed the blanket further to his body. Then, you walked towards the room where Lancelot was on the bed. 

Opening the door slightly, you walked inside the room as you closed the door behind you. You sat down on the edge of the bed as you held your hand on top of his. His eyes were closed and you were worried for him. 

Suddenly, you felt his fingers twitch as you watched him with hopeful eyes as his eyes started to open. Lancelot let out a small groan as his lips formed into a smile when he saw the familiar eyes. 

‘‘Irina! He’s awake!’‘ You shouted carefully to not wake Squirrel up as she ran towards the room. She examined Lancelot before she looked towards you. ‘‘He’s alright, all he needs is resting,’‘ She informed you as you nodded. ‘‘I’ll leave you two alone,’‘ She walked out of the room. 

‘‘Where are we?’‘ His horse voice ran through your ears are he tried to stip up. He winced towards the pain as you helped him up as you placed your hand on his bare back. ‘‘Don’t worry, we’re safe,’‘

‘‘Squirrel?’‘ He turned to look at you as he leanded against the wall as you could see the bare chest and not to stare at it. 

‘‘He’s asleep,’‘ 

‘’I was worried,’‘ You replied after a long silence. 

‘‘Of what?’‘

‘‘That you were gonna die,’‘ Lancelot reached out his hand as he cupped your cheek gently before he leaned in and started to kiss your lips. You sighed in plesaure since you had missed his touch. You brought your hands up to his neck as the two of you let go of each other and placed your forhead against each other. 

‘‘I missed you,’‘ You smiled towards the response. You looked at his eyes and it was indeed strange to see him without the cloak on. His hair was tied up but you could see his piercing blue eyes clear. ‘‘I missed you too,’‘ You replied before he started to kiss you again. 

For Lancelot, it seemed that he couldn’t stop kissing you, it was like an addiction that he needed more of you. He cupped both of your cheeks before going deeper into the kiss. Without letting go, you placed your legs between him as you sat now on top of him, digging him closer to your body. 

You could feel his hands on your waist before it landed on your shirt. Lancelot broke the kiss before he stared deep into your eyes. ‘’Do you want this?’’ he whispered. ‘’Yes,’’ Lancelot kissed you again, with more force before he started to take your shirt off. 

He tossed it over on the ground before the two of you were on the bed as he was above you. He began to kiss you on the neck as you let out a gasp as you could feel he was smirking on your neck. 

He began to take off your bra as he tossed it on the ground before he started to kiss every inch of your body. You felt exposed as you were about to cover yourself but Lancelot stopped you. ‘’Don’t,’’ 

You placed your arms next to you, slowly as Lancelot scanned over your beautiful body. ‘’You’re so beautiful,’’ He whispered as you could feel your cheeks go warm as he began to kiss you on your collar and then trail off down. 

You bit your lip when you could feel his wet kisses on your breasts as you felt his left hand on your breast squeezing it slightly. ‘’I want to hear you,’’ He murmured as he began to suck your nipple. You let out a moan of pleasure before he started to suck both of your breasts. 

You started to feel wet towards the actions he made you feel on your pussy. 

‘‘Lance...’‘ You whispered in pleasure as you could hear him groan. He did not waste another time to take off your pants and panties before he tossed it to the ground. He kissed you down on your stomach before he spread your legs apart. 

You felt so exposed to him that you almost wanted to hide but you wanted this with him. Lancelot leaned towards you as the two of you locked your eyes as he were asking for permission. You nodded as you felt him kiss your thigs and you began to gasp when you felt small kittens licks on your cunt. 

‘‘You’re already so wet for me,’‘ He muttered as you moaned out in pleasure as you gripped the sheets tighter. Lancelot began to dive in as you could feel the circulation movements with his tounge on your clit. 

As a response, you reached out as you gripped his head forecfully. You moaned towards the feeling. Without a warning, you could feel that he was entering one of his finger into your cunt. ‘’Lancelot...’’ You moaned louder as you could feel him stop as you let out a whine. 

‘‘Keep it quiet will you? Don’t want to wake Percival up,’‘ He smirked towards you as you were about to argue as he entered his finger inside you as you let out a moan. Lancelot kept going in and out slow at first to see if you could handle the pain. ‘‘Faster, please...’‘ You whimpered as you moaned and Lancelot smirked. 

He began to pump you faster as he leaned forward and started to kiss your neck. You gripped your hands onto his back as he let out a growl when you digged your nails on his back. You started to feel the unfamiliar knot starting to build on your stomach as Lancelot could feel your pussy be tighter around his finger. 

He began to pump you with a faster speed as you let out a gasp. ‘’Lancelot..’’ You moaned out loudly as he put his hand on your mouth as you began to tremble into orgasm. After some minutes, you fluttered your eyes open as you could see that Lancelot looked at you with a dark look. 

You swore that you heard a growl before he began to kiss you. You flipped him over as you was above him and placed his hands above. ‘’What are you doing?’’ He questioned you as you didn’t answer him when you took of his undies. 

You saw his member coming out straight as you widened your eyes. You didn’t knew that it supposed to be this big and long. You could feel his precum dripping down at his shaft. 

Before Lancelot could even ask again, he moaned when he felt your mouth around his cock. ‘’Y/n’’ He moaned when you bobbed your head up and down as you closed your eyes in delight. You licked his long member up to his tip as you began to tease him a bit which made him growl. 

Lancelot took a fistful hair as he gripped it tight and began to bob your head up and down as he sighed in pleasure. You started to go in a rythm with your hands and mouth. He started to go a faster speed as before he went deeper. You startet to gag as he lifted you up and looked at you with worried eyes. 

Before he could even start, you went down again. Lancelot could feel that he was so close to cum. He lifted you up as you looked at him with confusion. ‘’I want to feel inside you,’’ He mumbled before he flipped over as you could feel him stroke your wet cunt. He looked towards you. 

‘‘Are you sure?’‘ 

‘‘Yes,’‘ 

He began to enter you as you could feel the pain enter your body. You let out a gasp and a moan at the same time where you could hear Lancelot gasp towards the pleasure. ‘’God, you’re so tight and warm and wet,’’ He moaned before he turned to you again. ‘’You okay?’’

‘‘Yes, just... go slow...’‘ You responded. Lancelot began to pump you slowly as you felt the pain. He knew that you were tense and needed to relax so, he placed his hand on your clit as he began to move it with circulation movements. 

You felt the pleasure and pain at the same time as you let out a moan. You had your arms around him as you gripped it tighter. Then, after a few minutes, you started to feel pleasure and started to relax. 

‘‘Faster, lance,’‘ He could hear you mumble above him. Lancelot started to move a little faster which let you out a moan. But you wanted more. 

‘‘Faster,’‘ Lancelot tried to keep a faster movement before you sighed out in frusteration. ‘’For the love of gods, I’m not going to break, lance, faster!’’ Lancelot growled as he slammed into you deeper as you let out a moan. 

‘‘Fine, you want to see faster? I’m gonna show you faster,’‘ Lancelot growled into your hear as he began to pound into your pussy. ‘‘Lancelot...’‘ You moaned as he slammed into you deeper with a fast movement. ‘‘Is this what you wanted, y/n? To feel my cock slam into you deep tight pussy?’‘ 

‘‘Y-yes,’‘ You moaned as he growled. 

You started to feel the familiar knot form inside your belly. ‘’Lance, I think i’m gonna cum,’’ You moaned as he nodded. ‘’Me too,’’ He replied as he kept going faster before he slammed into you one last time as you could feel your orgasm explode and feel his cum fill your womb. 

The two of you breathed heavily before he took out of his cock out of you as you winced a little towards the feeling. He laid next to you as he placed his arms around your waist and cuddled next to you as the two of you drifted into a good sleep. 

**Someone please give me some holy water and I’m so sorry that this smut was so awful. 

[jamestrmtx]

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Twelve | Danger Mystery (Part 2 of 2)

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

To those who read the previous chapter part before I fixed an issue with it:

I forgot to change the title from Chapter Eleven | Premonition to Chapter Twelve | Danger Mystery (Part 1 of 2) when copy-pasting the header format, and didn't notice until an hour of posting.

Apologies for any confusion I might've caused with that!

• • •

"Cool braids," Jerry says, smiling at Frisk. "Did you make them yourself?"

The one questioned seems less than enthused by him, though there's no denying how their face lights up at the compliment. "Toriel made them for me," they sign, going back to their bored expression afterwards. Their attitude is distant and shows how they aren’t ready to confront the past yet. They stand up and look away from him, a frown etched deep in their expression all the while. "I have to finish my homework now."

"Bring it here." Jerry tries to be cheerful, but fails horribly, smile and tone both coming off forced and awkward as he tries to hype up the situation as best as he can. "I can help you!"

Though they try to hide it from everyone else in the room, Sans can see how Frisk rolls their eyes, pouts, and then mutters something under their breath. "It's fine. I don't need any help with what's left."

They almost mimic (Y/N) in character and tone, acting just as stern and cold, if not more with how hard it is for them to pretend the opposite.

"I'd still like to know how you're doing in school." Jerry's tone changes, paired up with his expression: eyebrows creased, eyes glaring, and smile gone. "You're... You're the only one left who can tell me how things are going lately, now that (Y/N) won't answer my messages anymore."

"Why don't you ask that guy, then? You're friends, as far as I know."

Their angry gaze points at Sans as they sign the words: "Why are you friends with him?" with the most annoyed gestures possible, and quick enough for Jerry not to notice what they're doing or saying. Then, they look at their father again, seemingly running thin and out of patience with the way they look at him, a look so frigid it could put an ice skating rink to shame. "You haven't answered my question yet."

"Believe me, Frisk." Jerry huffs. "I've tried, but he refuses to tell me anything -- says it's not in his place to tell me about you and all that stuff."

"Cool," is Frisk's only reaction as they spare a look at their surroundings. "It's better that way."

The child sighs and walks away, not once looking back -- and not even as their father calls out for them by their full name.

"Come back here," he demands, standing up and glaring at the hallway Frisk passes through. "Or I'll have to ask why you've got such awful manners today. What's (Y/N) been teaching you these days, huh? You've never been like this before!"

"People change," they snap, stopping for a second to look at him. "So…" Their voice trembles as they take a second to ball their hands and direct their angry look at the floor. "So stop blaming (mom/dad) for everything, if you really want to talk to me."

They're gone for good after that, giving Jerry no chance to talk or ask questions any longer.

He's left fuming, and when he catches Sans's gaze, his anger augments.

"What the hell have you taught Frisk since I was gone? They- They were never like this with me before!”

"Never?" Sans asks, facing up at Jerry when he joins his side. "Hadn't you seen them since last Christmas before today? Ten months are enough for someone to grow and change."

"That's still too big of a change." He scoffs. "Now tell me what you did -- I deserve that much, at least."

"Nothin'." He pauses, shrugging to ignore the glare Jerry continues to direct at him. "We've been here for only two months -- three, at most. You've been gone ten."

Appearing caught in a dead-end, he sees Jerry's eyes wander from Toriel preparing some documents and Papyrus helping her out, to the hallway Frisk had walked through, and -- finally -- to the kitchen, where the clinking of cutlery’s heard as (Y/N) sets up the dinner table, while Undyne keeps an eye out for the stove and Alphys holds out a fire extinguisher near the scene. Sans has a hunch as to what Jerry's planning simply by the dour look on his face alone, so he holds the man back by the arm, saying, "Don't bring 'em into this." He's faced with a sharper glare, though he doesn't brush his hand away. "The kid's mad at you by default. Nobody else's told 'em to treat you that way."

"And how would you know?" Jerry shoves him off. "You're just some guy with a crush on someone else's spouse!"

"Ex-spouse." Sans sneers. "They aren't tied to you anymore."

"But they still have a kid to be responsible for."

"So do you."

Jerry tries to say something back, yet he falls short and stutters before giving up. "I- I'm gonna go help them out, then."

He sees the man look back to the kitchen again, longing visible in his eyes. 

"Knock yourself out, bud. Just don't go pressurin' 'em too much." The two spare a look at each other, a silent battle forming in Jerry's gaze while the monster remains stern but nonchalant. "You know what happened back at that bus. They need their time to rest."

A more empathic look softens up Jerry's visage as he nods, finally cracking a smile with it. "I know." He sighs. "But I have no clue how I didn't notice it was them you liked with how many damn comments there were about it on those videos."

"That's 'cuz we were barely gettin' to know each other back then." His confession's abrupt and appears to catch Jerry by surprise. "Wasn't until some time later that I realized what I was feelin' whenever they were around."

Jerry keeps quiet for what has to be a solid minute; it's a miracle based on how much he's wanted to communicate today, and in so short of a time. He sighs and his glare fades. A more serene look replaces his anger as he then relaxes his posture, completing a calmer self, much more refreshing to see in comparison to his previous attitude. "I promise I won't bother them too much today, but I still need to talk."

"Today only?" Sans remarks, quirking an eye socket. "So you're goin' back to zero after that?"

"Don't be stupid. I just mean I won't be as persistent today -- I know they need to rest."

The monster decides to let it go, aware he's going nowhere with how much more obstinate Jerry is. 

He sees him enter the kitchen and immediately seek after their ex, an attitude that makes him appear similar to that of a rambunctious puppy still looking for attention even after being told to back off. Sans chuckles at that thought and shakes his head, surprising even himself with how much he's becoming concerned with matters that weren't exactly his own. It’s knowing (Y/N) was tied to the situation along with Frisk what makes him want to try and intervene a bit more, though he knows better than that, taking into account how strained his relationship with the both of them still is. It's a miracle he even managed to befriend Jerry with how obnoxious and insistent he could be at certain times -- even more than Sans was himself.

...Was that why (Y/N) hadn't outright rejected him yet?

Did he resemble Jerry in attitude, somewhat?

Sans brushes that thought aside and proceeds to walk off to the hallway; the faint sounds of someone crying are heard nearby, prompting him to search for who it is.

He passes by a bedroom, a mini office, then a bathroom, until reaching the middle of the hallway. The person's crying sounds louder when he reaches Toriel's bedroom, though based on how young the voice is and that Toriel's still working with some documents back in the living room, he discards her as a possibility. He hears a few sniffles before the crying controls itself a bit more, making it seem as if the one behind that door heard his footsteps and chose not to be found out. Still, they carry on crying after some time, sniffles changing into sobs and sobs changing into loud and shuddering hiccups.

"...Frisk?" he calls out, knocking on the door twice.

The crying stops almost abruptly.

"Who's there?" they ask.

Weren't this such a pressing situation, he wouldn't hesitate so much in responding as he usually did to that type of question. He sighs and rests a hand against the door, drumming his fingers until he replies with, "Sans."

"...Sans who?"

"Sans ta permission, je ne peux pas passer."

He can't avoid the chuckle that follows when he hears them huff -- dramatically so. Soft footsteps and a click are the two sounds that lead before the door opens, revealing a tired Frisk with puffy, red eyes and an equally reddish, runny nose. Their hair's a messy bob, and the hair ties and ribbons Toriel used to keep the braids in place are no longer being worn.

"What do you want?"

"I wanna talk."

"No."

They almost shut the door right on his face, though he backs away on time, and -- as if seeming to trigger an unlisted superpower in (Y/N) -- they appear behind him, nearly giving him a soul attack.

"What's wrong?" they ask, peering over his shoulder. It's an evident, purposeful act on their part to tease him further and pay back at him, as they're already aware of how far his crush on them's gone. Still, they know their personal space and step back after that, leading him to turn his back on the door and face them instead. "...Was that Frisk? Wh- Why are they crying? And why are their braids gone? I swear if Jerry did something I-"

"He didn't say anything about that," Sans intervenes, calming them down by pulling them along with him next to the door and lowering his voice for only them to hear. "He, uh... tried to talk with Frisk, but they're still angry at him -- understandably. But they still don't wanna talk about it."

"Let me try, then," they say, sighing. "I think it's about time they told me at least something about what's bothering them -- Not just hide away like this every chance they get."

"So they always do that?"

They nod. "Whenever I try to talk about Jerry, mostly.” A subtle scowl accompanies the frustration in their tone. “But when it's about them telling me what happened to them at the Underground, they ignore my question by doing pretty much anything else that doesn't have to do with that." A tremble shows in their body as they take a second to breathe. "But today needs to be a different story -- They can’t keep running from this."

"No!"

Sans sees (Y/N)'s patience fade from their eyes at that sound, somewhat muffled by the door, but still an evident shout from Frisk.

"Sans is friends with Jerry, and- And now you're talking with him like that means nothing to you!"

The human narrows their eyes at the door as they stand in front of it. "Sans and Jerry being friends has nothing to do with any of this." They huff. "Did you really think they would be enemies right from the start?"

"Yes! Just like how Prince Charmin Ultra Strong gets defeated by Shrenk!"

Surprisingly, they don't get any angrier and -- on the contrary -- smile at that comparison. They bite their lip to hold it back, though they still fail when they reply with, "Does that suggest Jerry's mom is gonna be a bigger villain later?"

Some silence passes. "I mean, yeah. Don't you remember how sad and angry she was when Jerry tried proposing again, but then you rejected him?"

At that, the monster's grin shows up and he finds himself blurting out, "He tried it again?"

"Yes." The moment they spare to answer his question ends as they look back at the door and say, "Of course, I remember, but you still shouldn't have those expectations, dear. This isn't a good versus evil situation -- There's a lot more to it than that." They bump their forehead against the door, seemingly giving up their strong and stern facade as they press their lips tight and try to suck up some sadness by sniffling and looking at the floor. "You- You must've realized that, too, right? Some of your new friends hurt you at one point, didn't they? And then you still try to defend me despite all the bad choices I've made in the past. I… I know Jerry screwed up-"

"-a lot," they interrupt, making (Y/N) sigh.

"-but that still doesn't mean you should compare like that."

"But what if he's a villain in my eyes, (mom/dad)?" they ask, though it's more of a statement than the former. "The only good thing he's done today is compliment my hair -- That's it! And I'm pretty sure you haven't even used any of that support money he gives you, so it's not like we really owe him anything, either."

"How do you know that?"

"I'm not dumb. That's the reason why you worked so much in the past, isn't it? You... You just sent that child support money back to him, and kept some only for emergencies."

"That-"

"You tell me not to see him as a bad guy, but you still do that by refusing any help and doing everything by yourself."

"That still doesn't mean you'll owe him any of those funds, dear. In the end, we chose to (have/adopt) you, so you'll never owe us any of that money we provide for raising you."

"So why did you reject his part of the responsibility, then?"

The kid could be a lawyer with how quickly that question corners (Y/N) in place. Their once firm, narrowed eyes turn wide and a guilty look makes their forehead wrinkle and mouth form a grimace. They don't say anything as they reach out for the doorknob and try to turn it around. "Open the door. We can't keep talking like this."

"Answer my question first," Frisk says, voice faltering midway. "Please?"

(Y/N) gives in with an exhale, chest shuddering in the process. "I…” They clench their hand and hesitate. “I didn't want to owe him anything." They rest their forehead against the door again, looking more defeated than before when they close their eyes and fight their frown away. "That's why."

Quiet remains after their response.

The door doesn't click or budge, signaling for the one waiting outside to give up for now. They walk back to the monster's side and sit on the floor; their gaze looks left and right, observing the hallway with a distinctive boredom only sadness can bring upon someone. They're almost a mirror of Frisk back when he caught the two of them dancing: knees pressed right to their chest as they hug themselves tight.

Though it takes him a while to do anything, Sans soon settles on the thought that doing something is much better than nothing right now, so he tries to accompany them by the floor. He sits next to them and offers a literal shoulder for them to lay on, the softness of his jacket helping numb the hardness of his bones. They rest their head there and close their eyes, breaths steadying the longer they stay that way. "You kinda smell like Old Spicy," they comment, chuckling. "Like my aunt's new boyfriend’s cologne." They sniff a few times and scooch a bit closer to his side. "...Sorry. That was weird."

He laughs. "Guess I'll have to try a different kind next ti-"

Click.

Followed by the door being unlocked is Frisk opening it and leaving the room. They then look at him and (Y/N) with the most appalled expression possible, similar to a scrungy cat. "You two are mushier than a bag of marshmallows left under the sun.”

Saying that, they turn around and take their leave, adding, “I’m gonna go talk with Jerry now,” before their other parent can say anything as an objection.

“Still not gonna call him dad?” they ask, though it comes off more teasing than demanding.

“Not until he earns it.” Frisk looks at the skeleton with sharp, judging eyes. “Because right now, even Skeletor’s brother is a better candidate for that.”

They’re gone in a flash after that comment, leaving Sans to process the heavy weight of those words and for the human next to him to stand up, gape, and look to where their child ran off to.

“W- Watch your words Frisk (L/N),” they shout at the empty hallway, voice masking their embarrassment by being loud. "You're on thin ice!"

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[passivenovember]

@trashycatarcade asked: Harringrove 59 for the drabble writing? 💖☺ 

Tell me to leave and I will. Ask me to stay and I’ll never leave you again.

WARNINGS FOR: Attempted suicide.

Jesus Don’t Want Me for a Sunbeam.

You could say it ended with a bang. That’s not how it usually goes, the slide into madness comes first and then. The whimper. The silence at the end of a song that has been played out of tune. 

The chord is struck a couple of times before silence falls hot and heavy like a ladle of tomato soup over the skin of the earth. Steve feels each vibration down to the very atoms that fuse and mold together, feels the push toward the light at the end of the tunnel, but. 

It doesn’t get bad until the car hits the tree.

They said it looked like a pretzel, bent around the oak trunk. One of those that you save five bucks for at the end of your family trip to the mall or something. A treat. The kind that comes with warm cheese? Steve’s mind is fuzzy toward that last part. 

It began with a whimper. Six months before that. Yes. A slide into the back palette that tasted of cheap beer and remorse. it settled on Steve’s shoulders, silky and smooth like the wings of a bird. Almost weightless, unnoticeable as he worked his 9-5 and then. Guilt. 

They couldn’t save everyone, and. 

Yeah. 

Steve felt like the curtain was falling on the third act. The crowd was throwing tomatoes, every time he looked into El’s face, and. 

He learned later, after, that the paramedics had expected Steve’s head to be smashed open when they first got the call--yeah, looks like the Harrington kid tried to veer off into the quarry. What? No, hit a tree. Seems like. Probably dead, way it’s bent around the tree like some kinda-- from Matthew Park. They said he threw up once he got closer to the wreckage.

They had gotten carried away, Imagining Steve’s head as a melon on the Fourth of July, run over by a carnie truck on its way out of town. Hilariously Steve came away in one piece. That they hadn’t expected and Steve didn’t want it, because. Bob and Barbara and. Hopper.

Steve can’t seem to die.

--

Hospital beds are his least favorite place in the world to resurface. And that includes elevators to hell and secret Russian torture chambers. Especially when he didn’t expect to wake up ever again, so. Steve blinks his eyes open.

It’s painful, the peel of his lids separating from one another. He sees fluorescent lights, blue like waves. Like the ocean, like--

Someone shifts in the seat next to him. To the left, he thinks, somewhere near a roll out cot that still has the blankets stretched tight over its face. Billy’s asleep in a worn leather back chair. Neck bent like a pretzel around the curve of his shoulder, and. Figures. He doesn’t sleep in the bed if Steve isn’t there. Hasn’t since he packed his bags three weeks ago and left Steve calling after him into the rain. He looks like shit. 

“You look like shit,” Steve tries. His voice ends on a whimper, because. Steve hadn’t expected to see him again. 

And Billy sits up. Risen from the dead when called upon from on high. Looks around the room like he does when he was really conked out, and. Zero’s in on Steve. On the I.V in one arm and a sling around the other. Steve thinks he feels a neck brace, or like. A Cone, or something, nestled against the ridges of his collarbones. The kind dogs wear so they won’t lick their wounds. Steve isn’t a dog, though. 

Billy doesn’t stop looking at him. He’s not going to cry, Steve doesn’t think, but. “Why would you try to leave without saying goodbye.” A whimper.

Steve wishes he were dead. Or gone, or. Something. So he rips the I.V. from his arm and tries to stand, escape, before Billy can punch his lights out. The second his feet hit the floor Billy’s on him, rough hands shoving him back onto the soiled bed sheets. 

“You’re selfish, you know that? So fuckin’ selfish. Poor little rich boy can’t stomach his half of the shit sandwich. You're not the only one who hurts, asshole. You were just gonna fucking leave without saying goodbye? After all we’ve been through?” Billy’s fingers tighten possessively around Steve’s shoulders. Shake him, firm but gentle because Steve could crack and shatter, and. 

He might. Billy’s crying. And it settles like a stiff quit against open wounds, the sounds he’s making. The sharp in-out-in of his breathing when Billy’s fingers move to touch Steve’s eyebrows, his nose, his forehead. To memorize the hills and valleys, it seems. Panicked. 

Steve can’t meet the fluorescent blue of his eyes. He finches back when thick fingers brush against something jagged and tender, a fleshy strip on the back of his neck.

“Stop.” 

Billy drops his hands. Steps back until there are oceans between them, squares of hideous linoleum flooring the color of sand. “We had a deal.”

“Bills--”

“We stick it out. For the kids, we. Get help and shit.”

“‘S heavy.” Steve mumbles. Because it is, it’s. Heavy as a mac truck in his chest. 

Billy scoffs. Snorts like it’s funny. Or ridiculous or. Infuriating. “Let me help you.”

“You can’t.”

“Let me help you carry it, baby, please.” Billy squats, knees stooping until his fingers guide Steve’s eyes to his own. H’s still crying. It hurts. “I can carry it. All of it, I can--”

“You left.”

Billy groans because Steve’s being difficult or something. “You pushed me away.”

Steve struggles gently, shuffles around until Billy drops his hands again. All that bullshit Murray said that night when the bottom fell out. When Steve heard a knock at his door and Billy pulled him forward by his fucking teeth, into a kiss as warm as the sun. 

Shared trauma. Eats people alive. 

Steve shakes his head. That hurts too. “Didn’t mean it.”

There’s shuffling. Billy crossing his arms in the space between them. “That night when you threw the hairbrush at the mirror and told me to leave--”

“Billy--”

“Because you thought he was back, that night when you told me you didn’t love me anymore--”

Steve’s crying now. “I didn’t--”

“Mean it. Yeah.” Billy sighs. Exhales, through his nose and it blows around the room until everything is knocked off the walls. Until Steve has nothing to hide behind. When Billy speaks again his voice is soft. Summer rain against a slated roof. 

“Tell me to go and I will,” He says. Like it’s easy. Simple. 

Steve can’t look at him, can’t. Make the switch. Billy’s shuffling around again until Steve’s face is sandwiched between his palms, until blue meets brown like color bleeding from a canvas. Until everything is saturated in muddy brown.  

“Tell me to leave.” Billy says again.  “But if you ask me to stay I’ll never leave you again, Stevie. Never.”

His fingers pat away tears. Steve’s crying harder, now, shuddering with it. Bones cracking and breaking under the weight of things they carry. He doesn’t know what to say. The words come and go, slip in and out of frame, until Billy’s climbing onto the bed with him. 

Arranging Steve. Pulling the covers up around them. A nurse walks by and asks Billy to please get off the bed. She threatens to kick him out when Billy flips her the bird because. Billy isn’t afraid.

He’s never afraid, not of anything. Steve settles in against him and the weight feels a little less heavy.

[apparentlynotreallyfinnish]

Experiments - Part 2

If you missed it, you can read part 1 here.

---

Have fun!

Jessie’s parting words rolled around in Rhett’s mind as he parked his car on the driveway of their creative house. She’d kissed Rhett’s cheek and waved from the door as Rhett pulled away from their house. The teasing grin she’d had on her face the whole morning had been a constant reminder that today was the day. 

Link’s Audi was already parked on the driveway. Rhett turned off the engine and took a few deep breaths, fingers curled around the steering wheel just to hold onto something real. All week he’d felt like he was in a perpetual dream. The restless nights had settled into the lines around his eyes and painted them blood-shot and glossy. Rhett stared at his reflection from the rearview mirror and tried to forget the dreams that had haunted him ever since Jessie had—a bit too easily in Rhett’s opinion—agreed to loan his husband for Link’s sexual experiment. 

Seeing Link in all manner of undress was normal to Rhett. It’s not like he purposefully sought for opportunities to experience his best friend in his birthday suit—it just kept happening. Since their teenage years and the muddy waters of Cape Fear River, skinny-dipping had been a thing they regularly and unapologetically did together. And nowadays, they changed clothes for filming in the same dressing room. So, Rhett had seen his fair share of Link. 

But before Link’s request earlier that week, he hadn’t actually seen him. At least his conscious mind hadn’t. His subconscious seemed to have memorized every inch of his best friend’s lean and tight body. That had been more than evident every night after they’d agreed that the deed was to be done on Saturday, at their rented house. 

Even that had gotten a chuckle out of Jess. 

“I knew it,” she’d said, giggling when Rhett had shown him Link’s messages.

“Knew what?” Rhett had asked, confused and already feeling embarrassed about what she was going to say.

“The house! You got it, so you guys could get it,” she’d said with a silly eyebrow wiggle and a suggestive hip thrust that had made Rhett’s cheeks flush. 

To Rhett’s horror, his wife had gotten way too much enjoyment out of his embarrassment over the whole situation. Rhett couldn’t help but wonder whether she knew about the dreams. He hadn’t told her—that seemed like oversharing—but every morning she looked at him with that certain kind of smile and asked a bit too innocently “did you sleep well, babe?” 

Rhett shook his head to chase away the dreamy images of Link in a cavalcade of compromising positions and combed his fingers through his messy head of curls. He just needed to get this over with. Then they could go back to their normal life and their normal—platonic—friendship.

The house was not as silent as he’d expected. A slow beat and a soft male voice filled the space. Rhett found Link from the middle room, sitting cross-legged on the couch, bobbing his head in rhythm with the music coming from a Bluetooth speaker. He was scrolling on his phone, his recently trimmed salt-and-pepper hair falling over his forehead. Rhett stood at the doorway and worried his bottom lip, waiting for Link to notice him.

“And when your eyes catch mine, I know I talk too much. So give me your two lips and baby, I’ll shut up…” Link started quietly singing along with the song, his shoulders rolling with his words. A smile tugged at Rhett’s lips.  

“Hey,” he said, making Link jerk and blush as if he’d been caught with his hand inside the cookie jar. 

“Hi.” Link’s voice was hoarse and he pocketed his phone before getting up. Rhett stepped into the room and tried to not look at the bed in the corner. Jessie had insisted on it when they were decorating. “You’re gonna want a place to nap between all that fabulous creating you guys are gonna do,” she’d said and even though Rhett had tried to reason with her—”we can nap on the couch!”—she’d gotten her way. 

“You came,” Link said softly, sounding almost surprised. 

Rhett couldn’t help the nervous giggle that burst out of him. “Not yet, but that’s the plan, right?”

Link’s exasperated eye roll was comfortingly normal and the tension between them eased a bit.

“What are you listening to?” Rhett asked, hoping that a simple conversation would help with his nerves.

“Greyson Chance.”

“Never heard of him.”

“He’s good.”

A silence fell between them and the tension was rapidly building back the walls that they’d managed to bring down. Better to just get on with it, right?

“So, how do you wanna do this?” Rhett asked, trying to keep his voice level and matter-of-fact. Link’s gaze bounced from the bed to the couch and to Rhett’s infinite relief, he nodded towards the latter. For some reason, doing this on the couch felt less intimate. 

Rhett walked past him and sat down. He slapped his hands against his thighs and smiled a bit too wide to hide his nervousness. Link was still standing next to the couch, staring at Rhett.

“Are we really gonna do this?” he asked, hands swaying nervously.

Rhett frowned and tried to ignore his gut twisting at the possibility that Link was gonna call off the whole thing.

“If you want to,” he said slowly. “It’s your show, brother.”

Link’s hand rose to his face and he started biting on his thumbnail.

“It’s gonna be weird,” he muttered, glancing away from Rhett.

“Probably,” Rhett agreed, stomach coiling into a tighter knot. “But when are we not weird?”

A surprised chuckle broke from Link’s lips and something seemed to loosen in him. His shoulders came down from his ears and his hand fell away from his mouth. “True,” he said with a smirk before continuing. “Okay. Let’s do this. Take off your pants.”

“Whoa, whoa. Hold on. Where’s the romance, Neal? I’m not just a piece of meat, you know,” Rhett teased but got up and opened the fly of his pants before Link had time for a snarky reply. His hands stopped, though, thumbs slipped under the waistband of his underwear. “Um.” 

“What?” Link asked.

“I’m not… You know, ready to go. Should I—? I don’t know, like watch something or…” Rhett was suddenly worried about his ability to perform and unsure which would be the worse option: getting immediately hard when Link touched him or not being able to get hard at all. 

“Oh. Umm. No, I—I think I’d like to try and get you there. If that’s okay? Get the whole experience, you know?” Link said, looking past Rhett with his cheeks flushed.

“Yeah, okay. Sure,” Rhett muttered and pulled down his jeans, leaving his boxer briefs on for the time being. He sat back on the couch, legs spread apart, feeling more vulnerable than he had ever felt before. Link sidled up to him and, in a move too fluid for a forty-year-old guy, got on his knees on the floor between Rhett’s legs. 

Oh my fucking God. 

Rhett’s breath hitched and he had to fight the urge to jump up and run away. Link’s hands hovered over Rhett’s bare thighs.

“Where can I touch you?” he asked, face tilted upwards to look at Rhett. 

“Anywhere.” The word slipped out like an exhale—instinctive and needy. The truth of it terrified Rhett and he let out a fake, awkward laugh. “Maybe not poke me in the eye…”   

Link huffed a short, humorless laugh, swallowed audibly and planted his hands on Rhett’s legs, bracing himself on them to reach up. Rhett’s eyes widened as Link’s face came closer and closer. Panic made his chest squeeze and his vision blur. If he kisses me I don’t… But then Link ducked under Rhett’s chin and pressed his lips on the crook of his neck. The kiss was soft and quickly followed by another one, that one closer to the collar of Rhett’s shirt. Link’s hand moved away from Rhett’s leg and grabbed the hem of his shirt. Link tugged on it and whispered against Rhett’s tingling skin, “can you take this off too?”

Rhett slipped the t-shirt off wordlessly and tried to reign in his wildly beating heart as Link’s feathery kisses moved down his chest. It had been laughable to worry that he might not be able to get hard. The moment Link’s lips touched his skin, all the blood in his body seemed to migrate between his legs. His dick was throbbing and ready in no time, straining against the fabric of his underwear. Link either hadn’t noticed or chose to ignore it as he concentrated on touching Rhett’s chest.

Both of his hands were now moving on Rhett’s body. He was sliding them up and down Rhett’s torso leaving little burning trails behind them.

“You feel so… sturdy,” Link mumbled, his voice filled with awe. One of his hands was circling up to squeeze Rhett’s bicep and then back down to feel his stomach. The other was concentrating its explorations onto Rhett’s nipple, drawing slow circles around it to coax it to perk up. Link hummed happily, pleased with his efforts before diving down to suck it into his mouth to lick and gently bite on it with such determination Rhett had to wonder how long he’d been wanting to do exactly that. The move dragged a garbled moan out of Rhett that made his cheeks burn and his heart kick up a notch. Link let out a satisfied chuckle and released Rhett’s nipple with one final bite. Rhett’s cock jumped in the confines of his boxers. 

“Was that good?” Link asked, voice a little more breathless than Rhett had expected.

“S’fine,” Rhett mumbled and closed his eyes, desperate to find some kind of calm inside himself to survive the onslaught of all the new sensations. He couldn’t watch Link do this to him. He couldn’t even really think about Link touching him. He’d already gone from zero to one-hundred in seconds and coming just from this would haunt him the rest of his life. Link would never let him live that down.

“You can think I’m someone else, you know,” Link said, licking a wet stripe from Rhett’s clavicle to his ear. “If that helps.”

“Mmhmm,” Rhett managed to hum, trying to appear less than affected. It was hard, though. His hips wanted to buck involuntarily. His cock was aching for attention and the thought that Link’s perfect, wet mouth would soon be on it was making Rhett dizzy.

Link’s hand slipped below Rhett’s waistline and his knuckles dragged over the bulge in Rhett’s boxers. 

“Oh,” Link breathed in surprise. His head whipped down—Rhett knew that because he could feel Link’s hair brushing against his chest. “You’re so hard,” Link marveled. Rhett didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Link mumbled and pressed his palm firmly against Rhett’s erection. Surprised by the sudden change in pressure, Rhett moaned out loud and his hips rose to meet Link’s touch. Link gasped, snapped his hand away and fell backwards, landing on his ass with a nervous giggle. 

Rhett’s eyes opened and he stared at the man sitting on the floor giggling like crazy. The watch on Link’s wrist started peeping to tell him that his pulse was too high. It made Link laugh even harder and he fumbled to silence the alarm. 

Rhett was thoroughly embarrassed. His face was on fire, only barely won by the inferno raging in his stomach. He grabbed a decorative pillow to hide his erection.

“Stop that,” he snapped, covering his face with his other hand.

“I’m—sorry—But,” Link was having trouble speaking between the guffaws. “It’s just so weird.”

“Shit! This was a bad idea. I’m just gonna—” Rhett mumbled and shot up, trying to escape the torture that this moment had turned into. Link’s hand wrapped around Rhett’s wrist to stop him. 

“No! Wait. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s not anything you did. I want you to enjoy it. Otherwise, what’s the point? I’m just…” Link took a long, shuddering breath, finally coming down from his laugh attack. “… nervous. I’m just so nervous. You gotta understand.”

Rhett had stopped but was swaying on his feet, still begging for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“Please, Rhett. Sit back down.”

Rhett drew a ragged breath. He could just go. He could just go and say that it had been a mistake. That he couldn’t do this. That he didn’t want to.

That would be a lie.

Link’s other hand touched Rhett’s knee and started moving up, leaving gooseflesh in its wake.

“I won’t laugh anymore. I got it out of my system, I promise,” Link whispered, crawling closer to Rhett. Rhett let him gently pull away the pillow. He screwed his eyes closed when Link’s palm reached his crotch.

“I need this, bo. Please.” Link palmed Rhett slowly, dragging his hand up and down his length, making Rhett shiver. “You feel so good. Like… even just touching you. It’s so different. I want to know—I need to know what you taste like. How you feel in my mouth.”

Rhett opened his eyes and looked down. Link was sitting on his haunches, looking up at him with pleading eyes. It would’ve required a much stronger man than Rhett to say no to those eyes. He swallowed the last shreds of his pride, sighed and settled back on the couch.

“Okay,” he said to Link. “Show me what that mouth can do.” 

[anika-ann]

The Line between Respectful and Stupid - Pt.5

Keep Calm and Stay Professional

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader       Word count: 2180

Warnings:  swearing, Steve being a dumbass

Summary: Meeting reality can be a bit harsh, Steve turns out to be as much of an ass as everyone was saying and Natasha Romanoff might deserve a life promotion.

Story Masterlist

The way back to SHIELD headquarters was silent as was the taking off. Three agents identified themselves, arriving in three different cars; you two rode in the middle one when coming to the closest private airport. During the flight, no one uttered a word – it was like Steve had no idea what to say now and you had no idea what you were allowed to say. So silence it was; and it was far from the comfortable one you were in after he had found you sleeping by his bedside.

You arrived back at Triskelion; you parted ways with a quiet nod, because hand-shake might be painful for you.  

On medical, the doctor on duty was praising the lovely stitches you had, looking honestly shocked when you told her they were Steve’s – Captain America’s. You called him his rank, because you knew where your place was and since you were back to reality, Steve seemed to realize it too. ‘Common sense’ met ‘SHIELD training of agents (over)respecting their superiors’ and this was the result.

Life went on. You returned to paper-pushing, because you had been hurt on the mission and you definitely couldn’t go back to the field since you weren’t even able to fire your gun correctly or do extensive exercise. Life went on and it was… boring and grey. The only highlight was Harry smacking your uninjured arm with a worried-slash-playful hiss of ‘I told you NOT to get shot.’ His concern was heart-warming.

It had been a week. With a little help of lady fortune, you had met Steve Rogers – correction, Captain America, Sir – three times.

The first time, he was with an agent you didn’t recognize. Yet, you couldn’t help but smile when seeing him. Your “Morning, Captain Rogers. Morning, Agent,” (because your ma’ raised you right) was almost enthusiastic, yet kept professional. The agent responded with the same greeting. Steve… gave an inconspicuous nod. You could feel your stomach drop, but tried not to read too much into it.

The second time though, he was alone. You greeted him the same way, except it was the afternoon. And Captain Rogers responded with a silent stiff nod only. Again.

The third time you saw him in your way, you honestly wanted to take another route to your office space just to avoid him. But you could tell that his companion spotted you even when they were talking business or whatever; it would look bad if you suddenly spun on your heels in the middle of the corridor and disappeared. So, you decided to be a big girl who wasn’t hurt by Captain’s indifference towards her and continued walking with a lump growing in your throat.

Your heart was practically jumping ahead of the rest of your body – that was how fast it was beating. You hoped it didn’t show.

“Captain Rogers, Agent Romanoff,” you said, way quieter than was polite. Neither of them seemed to mind.

Captain Rogers gave you his typical nod of acknowledgement, making you want to scream.

Asshat! So full of himself! Arrogant dumbass!

And you had been a dumbass too of course, for not realizing right away that he had been ‘friendly’ simply because of something called ‘professional courtesy’ and ‘inconvenient circumstances’. Translated to everyday speech – because he had had to and you had been the only person in the twenty-mile radius. Now, he was the legend who wasn’t mingling with ordinary agents and apparently didn’t have the decency to return a hello.  

‘My ma’ raised me right’ my ass, Rogers.’

The shocking part came when Agent Romanoff reciprocated your greeting with a smile that looked too suspicious on her lips.

“Agent 19.”

So… she knew who you were.

That’s not concerning at all.

The moment you passed the golden pair – and of course, why would Captain America even spare one glance at you aka no-name-chic from nowheresville when he was used to the company of the Black Widow aka the gorgeous badass Natasha Romanoff –, you released a shaky breath, not bothering to hide your shocked expression at the woman addressing you.

Later, you would come to conclusion they had been going through the failed mission you and Captain had been to and their briefing had been very thorough. After that, you didn’t give it a second thought.

What you didn’t know was what followed the short interaction between the three of you. You never saw the pair of legendary agents circle the corner, you never heard and saw the gorgeous badass Natasha Romanoff smack Steve’s arm with a surprising force for such a thin woman.

“You’re a dumbass, Rogers, you know that? She’s kinda cute.”

“Don’t I know it…” he mumbled, stroking his bicep, seemingly hurt.

“Which part?” she hissed, wondering if she should just ask you out for him. It would be almost like a mission, you two meeting an asset… an ass-et in this particular case, because she couldn’t believe this blond idiot.

Really? Ignoring you despite liking you, because you could potentially work together on an assignment again somewhere far in an unforeseeable future and he didn’t want you two to potentially be compromised?

Geez, Rogers.

Steve sighed. “Both, Romanoff. Both.”

Good, she thought. At least he was admitting to being stupid. Maybe he wasn’t a completely lost cause after all. Maybe he just needed few more pushes.

“SHIELD’s rules are stupid.“

You looked up from the report you were re-reading after your friend, blinking at the man towering above you. He stood there in front of your desk like a righteous angel of exasperation, jeans, t-shirt and leather jacket as if he was your average fellow citizen.

The man who was occupying unfair amount of space in your head and hadn’t spoken to you since leaving the cabin-slash-safe-house.

“St- Captain,” you corrected yourself as you imagined there were people listening to you and as you reminded yourself that this indeed was Captain Rogers talking with a low-life agent, which he clearly was fully aware of now. “What-“

“And by SHIELD’s rules being stupid I mean me. So I guess you can add ‘dumbass’ to that list of yours.”

Your knee-jerk reaction – after you realized what he was talking about – was to oppose that it was not your list by any means. But you wisely kept your mouth shut and took a quick survey of who was watching this surreal exchange instead.

You saw Wendy sitting in the opposite boot watching Steve’s bottom (no blame here, sister), Jack in the corner with his eyebrow raised, Kate who was clearly not concerned by her technically-superior hearing the music blasting from her headphones as she was listening to YouTube videos and swaying in the rhythm, and of course Harry, the retiring know-it-all-saw-it-all (the nice kind with funny stories from the field), was sitting at his desk, arms crossed on his chest, an amused grin on his face.    

You escaped his gaze, looking back at Steve wide-eyed.

“I’m— sorry, Sir? I don’t think I understand.”

“The rule is that SHIELD operatives shouldn’t be involved with each other. And while it might be true that it could compromise them in the field, that rule is just ridiculous, because we’re not even on the same team and the chances that we will need to work together again are slightly above zero.”

You stared at him speechless. What was he saying again? Your brain was very slow in processing his words. He clenched his jaw when you gave him no actual reaction and he scratched the back of his neck, obviously uncomfortable. He lowered his voice when he spoke again.

“Sorry. That’s not at all how I wanted this to go.” He squatted then, so you were on the same eye-level since you were still sitting in the chair, too dumbstruck to do anything else than stare and occasionally stutter a word or two. Steve gulped as if he was the one nervous. Honestly, you weren’t sure what you were then. “I’m sorry. Would you like to have dinner with me? Or coffee? Or anything really?”

That did it. Your jaw fell on your desk, the words feeling like a bucket of cold water splashing in your face. The mixture of awe, warm feeling in your chest and dizziness took over you; in the end, disbelief won though. Because honestly, no matter how adorable Steve Rogers was now, crouching by your desk, watching you with his deep cerulean eyes, you couldn’t believe his nerves.

That was how he thought he could play it? Ignore you for a week, barely nodding at you in a greeting when meeting you in the corridors, and then just walk in like the king of the world, all the womankind falling to his feet?

No thank you, I have some self-respect left.

Though… for him, you might forget it.

No, nope.

But-

The inner fight between the urge to kiss him senseless for showing up with such proposition and to kick him in his balls, because no, mister, this is not the way the world works, not even for you, was raging in you, resulting in a stutter.

“I-uhm… you… you didn’t even say hi for a week, what— what changed?”

That was good, right? You deserved an explanation at least? That was perfectly reasonable, unlike someone else’s behaviour?

He gulped, his expression shifting from a puppy look to a kicked puppy look.

Damn, my heart. The world was so unfair, allowing some people to soften others’ anger just by being cute…

“I know. And I’m sorry. I thought that we shouldn’t talk together, because we weren’t allowed to… get involved and I needed time process all that. That’s part of the reason why I’m stupid. Dumb, I mean. Dumbass.”

You couldn’t help it. The corners of your lips twitched. How could one be mad at Steve Rogers, who was willingly calling himself a dumbass and being so sweet? You were such a weak creature, dammit.

“Yes,” you whispered shyly, the need to bite your lip as your nerves worked physically hurting you.

Steve’s Adam’s apple bobbed and he frowned a little; you only realized then that he couldn’t possibly have an idea if you were just approving of him eating humble pie or saying yes to his… date proposition? You would have thought it was just a friendly offer, but he had been the one to call it ‘get involved’, okay?

Twice.

Also, it was to a bit of both, the yes you were saying. Not that you had the heart to admit it, yet.

“I mean— yes, I’d like that.”

His lips spread in a beautiful grin that sent your heart racing, especially in the combination with his happily twinkling blue eyes.

“Swell!” he exclaimed, almost making you choke. Who the hell was still using that word? No, don’t answer that. “I’ll bring flowers.”

You chuckled at that, incredulous, remembering he had said he should have bought them to you before seeing too much skin of yours. The euphoria of what was happening had nearly the same effect on you as the pain-meds a week ago. It made you brutally honest and babbling.  

“Planning on getting so far on the first date, Steve?”

The tips of his ears turned red as he realized what conclusion you must have come to. His eyes widened in horror. Oh boy, you were about to have so much fun with getting him flustered, that was for sure.

“I didn’t mean it like-“

And because you were honest, babbling, but also bold, you leaned to him over the desk before you could change your mind and pressed your lips to his cheek for a split second.

“I’m teasing, Captain. I have no doubt you’ll be a perfect gentleman.”

Utterly awed at your gesture, he smiled at you brightly. “I’ll try. Dinner on Saturday sounds good?”

“Sounds great actually. And good,” you winked at him as he rose to his feet and you handed him your card out of habit, doubting he needed it – after all, he could just find you here if he hadn’t somehow found your phone number already. “If you try hard enough, I might add ‘gentleman’ to the list.”

He left you to your desk duties with a laugh. You caught a glimpse of Harry showing you a thumps-up as your gaze followed Steve’s figure out of the door and you blushed.

The moment you couldn’t see Steve anymore, you hid your face in your palms, giggling like a schoolgirl. You didn’t care what your co-workers would think – and yes, you noticed that Kate had turned off the music in favour to listen your conversation. It didn’t matter.

You were having a date on Saturday. With the world’s first superhero dumbass hard kind-ass smartass tight-ass tight ass.

And boy, were you excited. You needed to scratch the tight-ass from the list, because man, Steve Rogers didn’t mind breaking the rules and crossing the lines when they were stupid.

To be honest, you didn’t mind either. Not at all. After all, it would be with the blessing of your superior. And that had to mean something, right?

Steve Rogers Masterlist

I couldn’t help but hint Natasha’s involvement, because ‘matchmaker Widow’ for the win and Steve-Natasha friendship goals.

I hope you had as much fun reading this as I had writing it. Thank you for reblogs and likes and, of course, for reading in the first place. Kudos to you all. :-*

Tags:  @mermaidxatxheart​

[oh-theatre]

Objection!: Chapter 22

Chapter title: My Starlight

A/n:  THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE FOR PATTON’s BIRTHDAY BUT I MISCALCULATED THE DATE BUT IMMA POST IT ANYWAY BECAUSE WRITING! ANYWAY, ENJOY ITS BAD. I decided to post it today because then it won't be a thing on Pats birthday and I can just focus on that Anyway this chapter is smOFT and im love them sO much and im gonna cry hes bapey. SORRY THIS CHAPTER SUCKS...ENJOY??

this is so bad lol it went from zero to a hundred real quick and it sucks

First | Previous | Next

words: 4270

summary: Its Pattons birthday and the day shall only be fun-filled

pairings: logicality, eventual prinxiety, platonic demus, romantic remile

warnings: Murder mention, child murder, Law and Courtroom, swearing, blood, hospital, crime scene,  murder, gun mention, guns, swearing, abuse, graphic descriptions, alcohol

Ao3 Link  

“Happy Birthday!” Two squeals can certainly awaken a man from his troubled slumber. Those two bouncing on him as they hug him as well they can definitely do the trick. Patton blinks himself awake enveloping the twins in his arms, kissing them as thanks. They scramble practically buzzing around the room allowing their father to sit up, rub his eyes placing his frames delicately on his face.

“Good morning” He greets through a yawn, they giggle. A new figure becomes apparent, a smug Virgil and shy Damian approach. “Ah, I see” Patton recognizes, the plan unfolding.

“Why don't you guys go carefully get your dad's breakfast” Virgil wonders, the twins nods dragging a tired Damian with them. They disappear singing down the halls in delight. “I used the key you gave me” He admits, Patton laughs shaking his head. He sits on the edge of the bed, leaning in for a quick hug. “Happy birthday Pat” Virgil celebrates

“It is indeed the day of my birth” He yawns once more, dry tears welling from exhaustion. Virgil furrows his brows, checking Patton's face. “Hmm?”

“What time did you-”

“Breakfast for papa!” Valerie cheers, wobbling carefully through the door as Remus and Damian help her. “Look! We helped!” She announces, Virgil lifts her up on the bed with the other two joining soon after. Presenting a beautiful meal, bright fresh fruit, wafting eggs, and a seeping cup of coffee tinted with cinnamon.

“Oh it looks amazing!” he exclaims, the twins walk towards him hugging their father. “Thank you” he kisses them each, making sure Damian receives a hug for his effort.

“Cartoon time!” Remus decides taking the buried remote, he asks his father for assistance. Patton obliges turning the Tv on. The three children sit at the end of the bed watching the pictures across the screen. Virgil sits next to a starved Patton, only half paying attention.

“What are you fun-filled plans for the day?” Virgil whispers as a theme song plays out. Patton swallows a delectable bite watching his children bob along.

“Work, unfortunately,” Patton laments “but it'll be great!” he tries, his tired voice apparent. A quick buzz from his nightstand and he turns. “Gotta take this, I'll be right back” He takes his phone moving to the hallway. “Patton Hart!” As he had done so many times before

“Happy birthday you big doof!” Barbara's voice rings out, Patton laughs crossing his arms against his soft chest, the pajamas only warming him. “Love you!” She excites

“Hey, Babs!” He bites his lower lip, fidgeting with the ends of his pajamas. “Thank you, I love you too” He replies, sweet yawns released from both siblings. “Whatcha up to today?” he questions moving to the kitchen, the slight mess in the kitchen giving him something to do.

“Marce and I were gonna stop by your office before we left but Marce is afraid of missing the flight so..” She responds, a quick shuffle in the phone and soft mumblings.

“Good morning Patton” Marcy greets, Patton smiles to himself as he cleans away the remnants of the breakfast. “Happy birthday”

“Hey Marcy, thank you” He listens as more whines come through before the phone is retrieved. “She seems happy” Patton jokes, Barbara gives a dry laugh.

“She's tired, and mean!” She calls out, Marcy laughs retreating away from the phone. Patton shakes his head, practically visualizing their antics in his mind. “Alright, I love you Pat but I should finish packing,” She says, Patton nods realizing she can't see him. “Bye, and happy birthday”

“Bye!” And the phone goes dead, he sets it down. Humming carefully as he puts away the dishes, feet are heard behind him. He turns giving a small smile at Virgil who holds his breakfast tray. “Hey”

“Wanna finish in here?” Virgil wonders placing the tray down, Patton nods thankfully. “You okay?” Virgil sits on the counter, swinging his legs as he watches Patton.

“Yeah” Patton sighs “Just...tired” He stares through the window, watching the day move faster than usual. The bright January morning, putting up a warm facade knowing that should he step into a cold chill would entrap him.

“Any word from…” Virgil trails off, Patton groans quietly setting down the last dish. The warmth of the water leaving as the faucet shuts off. “Sorry”

“No, you're fine just...not today ok?” He requests, Virgil nods hopping off the counter as the children scatter into the room. “Hey munchkins!” Patton smiles, the twins race up to him tugging as his clothes. He picks them up planting soft kisses on their forehead. “You might wanna go get ready,” He tells them, they nod disappearing into their rooms.

“I should head out” Virgil checks his ever noisy phone, Damian takes his hand and places his other one in his mouth. “You okay Dee?” Virgil checks, the little boy yawns nodding.

“Sleepy” He responds simply, his thumbs getting quite clean. Virgil shakes his head playfully waving one final goodbye to Patton as he leaves. “Bye-bye uncle Pat” Damian waves, a slobbery hand Patton's final image.

Soon after he's finished with his food, Patton cleans up once more before taking his own advice. Choosing a more risky option for attire, risky meaning its much more Patton than it had been in a month. A light pastel shirt, a flowered patterned jacket, and dark pants. He smiles tightening his tie around his throat. Patting himself down, checking it out in the reflection. So safe he feels in his house now, his children laughing in earshot as he prepares for any usual day.

“Done!” The twins emerge showing off their own outfits. Patton gasps grinning as he claps excitedly.

“Absolutely marvelous!” He cries with an accent, they laugh taking his hands. Somehow after a few minutes, Patton finds himself in the driveway strapping the twins in for a ride. They play across their seats creating stories.  “All good?” Patton asks Remus, he looks away his gleam washing away. “What's up crabcake?” Patton strokes his cheek gently, Remus goes to say something but decides against it. Shaking his head is final.

With a new doubt planted in Patton, he sets off on the road, assuring both his children he loves them dearly as the ride continues.

~~~

“Oh god, you really shouldn't have” Patton mumbles, his face dusted a deep red. Roman bobs grinning wide. Patton closes the door behind as his eyes gaze across his office, balloons, streamers and music blast through. “WHats the occasion?” He jokes, setting his things down

“Happy birthday padre!” Roman cheers, Patton laughs rolling his eyes playfully. Roman opens his arms asking for a hug, Patton allows him a tight hug maybe lingered. “I have a cake coming later, and presents of course!” Roman lists, almost as if a schedule had been made

“Oh, wonderful” Patton comments sweetly. Roman pouts slumping his shoulders. “Oh, no Roman I adore this I promise!” He assures, taking Roman's hands as he marvels at the room. “I'm just....a little out of it Ro”

“Well, then let's get you into it!” Roman exclaims, dancing in time to the music. Patton laughs, his voice carries through the room. “Come on” Roman begs, Patton starts slow, a simple sway before suddenly the pair are at their own private disco. The music catches them as they twirl around the room.

“Pardon?” They stop, Roman, shutting off the music as Patton's face increases fast a bright red. Logan stands cautious in the doorway eyeing the room. Patton rubs his forehead, clutching his palms soon after digging. Logan watches the movement and rushes his words. “Patton, may I speak to you for a moment?” He extends a hand hoping that will allow the lawyer something else to take. Roman raises an eyebrow but sends the father forward. Patton takes Logan's hand, a soft twitch as they make their way into the hallway.

“Hi” He barely squeaks, the image of him dancing replaying in his mind. Wanting nothing more than to curl up in the corner and hide for eternity. Luckily a distraction would work, as Logan goes to speak Patton's phone beats him to it. “Patton Hart” He tires “Oh! Hey mom…” Logan's face morphs, his head cocks becoming alert. “Dinner? With you, dad and…” He sighs, pursing frustrated lips “Liam” He clicks his tongue. Logan takes the phone making sure Patton remains unscathed, pressing it to his own ear.

“Hello Gloria, unfortunately, Patton has plans tonight” Logan explains, Patton stifles a questionable laugh. “Oh I know, what a shame” he rolls his eyes, the most monotone voice he could conjure. “Goodbye!” He shuts the phone, returning it safely to Patton. Folding it softly in his hands, keeping a gentle hold.

“Plans?” he ponders, a smirk appearing. Logan licks his lips, nodding. “Do I get to know more or…?” Patton questions, Logan twirls his fingers in Patton's shaking his head. He leans in a soft kiss on Patton's cheek.

“Happy birthday Patton” He gives a final squeeze before retreating to his own office. A flushed Patton stands outside his door, hoping someone might catch him should he fall. A clearing of his throat, a quick adjustment to his glasses and he returns his posture.

“You were listening weren't you?” He asks a knowing Roman as he steps into the party. A giddy Roman sits nodding.

“Obviously” He waves it off, Patton sighs through a smirk. “So what does this mean?”

“Roman-” Patton tries

“Are you guys together?” Roman inquires, tapping excitedly

“Roman!”

“What does this mean for you and the twins?” He goes further

“Roman!” Patton interjects finally, his eyes wide

“None of those are answers” Roman notes, they laugh softly. “Come on Pat...tell me!” Roman pleads, a mocking pout as he leans across the desk.

“I don't know, something...happened at the party but...we haven't really discussed it since” Patton admits, tracing the nape of necks, careful sweat flows. Roman pokes him and so Patton recounts the tale of the confusing evening Patton had during the holiday party. Keeping only a few things and words to himself. “And I really haven't seen or talked to him much since then” Patton finishes, a worrying pace as his feet do their own dance.

“Oh my god...Farkles a romantic” Roman gasps, his fingers drumming with swirling ideas. “He actually said that? Nobody says that!” Roman would know, indulging himself in romance and love as much as he can. “Oh my god…” Disbelief oozes from the judge

“Roman?” Patton raises his brows, the judge meets his eyes.

“Do you think he looked it up?” Roman snickers, a playful nudge is registered. “I'm kidding, but he actually said that? Like he said the words ‘I want a fairytale?’” Roman tries his hardest not to laugh.

“Don't be mean, it was sweet…” Patton dazes away, remembering the soft sparkle of curiosity Logan emitted. An excitement as he tries something new, ready to document the outcome. Roman backs off, noticing a look he hadn't seen on Patton in awhile. Not since Liam, before everything, there was a time he did love Liam. And that same look graced his face. “What?” Patton snaps in front of Roman's face.

“You are happy, like actually genuinely happy,” Roman tells him, Patton fans his slight blush. “I hope it's what you want it to be” Roman stands, as the hour beckons him.

“Me too” Patton whispers “Bye Ro, thanks for...all of this” He gestures around the room. Roman gives him a quick squeeze on the shoulder.

“Always Pat” He promises “Happy birthday” And soon enough he's gone. Leaving Patton to his own devices, the room should feel empty but for once it bursts as Patton's thoughts run wild with possibility. His cheek still burning with the fading touch of Logan's lips against him, a connection he longed for more of. What a day! He chuckles to himself, giving himself another brief pause to simply be. Ignoring the incoming birthday messages because only one notification matters to him, Logans.

“Happy birthday!” Remy and Emile know no bounds as they bust through the door, laughing with a giggling Thomas in their arms. Patton places his buzzing phone on the table to greet them, an infinite smile as Thomas is secured in his arms.

Roman was right

He was happy

~~~

“Hey Logan, you busy?” Roman knocks, the lawyer shakes his head ushering the judge in. Roman takes a confident seat, sinking his back into the chairs he felt all day.

“Not at the moment, what may I do for you?” Logan wonders still reviewing the files across his desk, checking through the papers he listens to a snickering Roman, his mind somewhere else. “Roman?” Logan questions again

“Oh nothing” He sighs, tapping gently on the wood, a clicky echo through the room. “I just...wanna hold a hand” He admits wistfully, Logan hums used to his antics simply nods. “I wanna be with someone, I wanna get lost...in someone's eyes” He continues a smirk, leaning into Logan blinks finally adjusting his papers.

“Pardon?” Logan squeaks, keeping his demeanor stable as Roman stifles his laughter. “S-sounds like a fairytale” He coughs, loosening his tie, had the room become hot?

“Then goddamnit Logan, I want a fairytale!” Roman can't believe how perfectly it had been set up. He bursts laughing, Logan groans burying his head into his arms. “I should fight for my happily ever after” He deems

“Patton told you?” Logan guesses from his hidden cove. Roman nods as his hearty cheers fill the room, full light of joy. Logans not sure what to do except exhaling sharply, feeling as though his nose would fall off.

“How drunk were you?” Roman barely laughs, wiping away the tears from his fit. Logan clutches the table organizing the files, a frustrated mumble as he does so. He stuffs away a small box, wrapped neatly, into his drawer.

“I had approximately one drink” He remembers, his fingers itching desperate for Patton's hold in his. “Its stupid, I understand” He rubs his forehead, Roman clicks his tongue shaking his head.

“No, its romantic Lo, like nobody says that stuff in real life but uh...romantic” Roman smiles “So, birthday plans?” Roman leans forward, placing his intrigue in his hands, a sweet smile. Logan feels his face arise in a lovely shade of red, he lets out a shaky laugh feeling his mind drift away. His hands interlaced carefully with Patton's as they walk through the chilly remains of January, the twins rushing ahead of them in laughter. Entrapped in their own frolics and games as Patton watches with love pouring from his beautiful eyes. Logan tightens his hold, a sweet kiss to Patton's forehead as they make their way to…

”Dinner” He whispers, the room opens once more. “A nice walk, and home” He recites simply because that's what Patton needed. Something simple and loving, a way to show his affection through slow means. Nothing complicated, no pressure, and a celebration.

“Sounds wonderful” Roman compliments, he snaps his fingers “You know the twins are staying with Virge right? Remy and Emile are taking them to dinner” Roman reminds, Logan's stomach tugs not sure which feeling to settle on. Excited for this intimate moment the lawyers will share together, but disappointed, he was...looking forward to seeing the twins. He shakes his head nodding.

“Well, I suppose it's just the two of us” He takes his glasses, wiping the glass with a cleaner on his desk. A giddy rush passes through him, Roman watches the man's face switch through, as if he held his own remote.

“Hey, do you love Patton?” Roman lets out, shrugging as he leans comfortably. Logan coughs on his dry throat, frantically grasping for water.

“I-” His eyes widen, the typical curiosity that pools them replaced with fear of what the future deemed. Roman chuckles running a soft hand through his hair. “I like Patton, and I lo-” He steps delicately on the floor, pacing in position. “I don't know!” He stands quickly

“Logan, I was kidding, take it easy, look you don't have to…” He watches the fearful man “Know that right now but it has to be headed that way dude. He has two kids, you both have full-time jobs and you're headed towards commitment. I love you dude but you're way past casual dating.” Roman recites, dusting off his robes “You have to be in this for the long ride-” Logan stops him

“I know Roman, I made it clear that I was serious about this. I'm not going to walk away. I feel like I'm repeating myself. I love Patton's kids, and I care, so much, about Patton.” Logan assures, Roman bites his lower lips smirking. “Why is this anyone's business but ours?” Logan pleads, Roman chuckles

“You're kidding right?” He checks, Logan remains, sighing deeply. “Ok we love you, but you're not Logan Tolentino the lawyer anymore. You're not Patton's friend anymore, you're more than that. Which is an amazing thing to be, but-”

“I'm not Liam.” Logan argues, he scoffs angrily. “Why does everyone keep implying that?”

“No one has ever actually said that, but you keep making the connection” Roman notes “For a reason, you're not Liam but if there is even the slight chance?” Roman cocks his head “Just make sure you're in this, because I swear to god, if Patton gets hurt one more time...”

“I know” Logan agrees.

“Just focus on dinner for now ok?” Roman goes around the desk, rubbing his shoulder comfortingly. “You don't have to worry about the twins, about Liam or his parents about whether you love Patton or not. Just uh...give him a nice time, ok?” Roman asks

Do I love Patton?

Does he love me?

Am I Liam…?

Logans brain races fast, his mind overwhelmed. Flashing pictures and memories flow, he feels dizzy as he sits once more. Burying his head in the desk, what was wrong with him? He longed for when none of this concerned him. For when he saw the twins and Patton and kept his infatuation away, locked in a box to rot. Whether he loved Patton or not was consuming his mind every waking moment, each step he took burning with hot desire.

Do you love Patton?

“I think I do”

~~~

“Be good for me ok?” Patton kneels holding his twins close, they smile exhausted from their journey of a day but conjure up a nod. After sweet farewell kisses, he watches his friend take their arms waving goodbye to Patton. He will never get used to it, that sharp pain as Patton's hold over his life drifts away. It goes away after a moment but that transition hurts.

“Patton, are you alright?” Logan wonders, Patton turns his mind clears as his eyes fall upon the figure. His eyes glisten reflecting the stars above. “Patton?”

“You look...you always just look…” Patton marvels, a soft smile spreads across his face. “Nice, you look so nice” He decides, feeling the overuse of ‘perfect’ in the past few months. Logan stifles his smile, he extends his hand through the chilly air, Patton takes it feeling his favorite spark. Logan pulls him close, walking them side by side.

“Patton you look stunning” Logan whispers through his frosty breath. Patton averts his gaze towards the moon, hoping his blush isn't as evident. Logan fiddles sweetly with Patton's fingers in his own, Patton wishes for nothing more than to stay connected.

“So! What's the evening plan?” Patton inquires, leaning into Logan's coat much to the lawyer's excitement.

“A simple dinner, a nice walk and then home” Logan lists, Patton hums delighted at the sound of something so perfect. “Does that sound enjoyable?” Logan checks, Patton lifts their joined hands kissing Logans softly.

“It sounds absolutely perfect” He assures yawning. The walk continues until they reach the restaurant, Patton puts distance between him and logan keeping their hands together, he stares through the window. “Shall we?” He asks, Logan purses his lips he tugs gently at Patton's hand bringing him in. He places his under Patton jaw kissing him. A quick shock but Patton leans into it feeling safe wrapped in his arms. His eyes remain closed even as Logan pulls away, he opens them once more grounding himself.

“We shall” Logan leads him in, allowing the host to seat the pair at their reserved table. Taking their coats, they sit, Logan helps Patton into his chair before taking his own place. Patton smiles as he browses the menu, his favorite routine as they meet across the table, fingers interlaced. “Anything look good?” Logan questions, looking through his own menu.

“Mmm, water” He hums, Logan chuckles. “Maybe a non-alcoholic mojito?” He checks, Logan nods skimming the wine menu. Quickly the night moves on, a nice flow as they order their drinks than their main courses. “Oh, my...delicious Lo” Patton swallows a delectable bite.

“I'm glad, I was wary about the vegetarian option” Logan admits, Pattons smile falters a shaky smile. Patton found it silly how much that simple thought meant. When picking a place, Logan took into consideration Patton.

Logan...took into consideration...Patton

Me?

“Patton?” Logan tilts his head, squeezing the man's hand. “Everything alright?”  Patton nods finishing his food, swallowing his overwhelming thoughts with water. Patton kisses Logan's hand, grateful for simply the entire night.

“The twins want you to join us at Disneyworld'' Patton adds, Logan smirks twirling his spaghetti. “They also want you to join us for snuggle Sunday” He raises a brow, a coy sweetness. Logan chuckles biting his lower lip.

“I would not mind both of those” Logan admits, Patton grins thanking the waitress as she clears their plates. “Which reminds me, I have a gift- er gifts for you” Patton sighs, feeling his cheeks flush. “Don't, I know what you're thinking and just...don't” Patton leans in

“You shouldn't have” Patton rushes, Logan slams his hand delicately laughing.

“I should and did so…” Logan swishes his lips “Deal with it” He snarks, Patton giggles rolling his playful eyes. “Ok, this if for, you and the twins…” He hands Patton an envelope watching as a cautious look quickly turns to shock. A small gasp as tears threatens his already weak eyes.

“Logan…” He can't find the words, they dance around but nothing amounts to the absolute thankfulness he feels. “I can't accept this, you know that right?” Logan groans, Patton wipes away the soft tears.

“You can and will, plus seeing as I'm coming with you…” Logan trails off, Patton shakes his head returning the envelope. “Think it over ok?” Logan requests, Patton sighs but nods knowing he's in no state of mind to argue. “Thank you, I have one more item for you” He reaches into his coat pulling out a small box, one he had spent hours gently piecing together. The wrapping a sweet baby blue with fragrant flowers decorating them.

“You spoil me” Patton giggles taking it, opening the paper carefully and neatly.

“Not nearly enough” Logan mutters to himself, Patton finds a deep box under it and opens it. A sweet gasp as he removes the item from its home. A navy blue tie is shown, beautiful patterns are etched through it in white and pastel colors.

“Oh, it's...beautiful Lo…” Patton looks at it, an absolute glimmer in his eyes. After dessert, maybe too many thanks from Patton, the pair retreat back outside. The warmth from each other circling them gently as they walk. They decide to go off their path, Logan leads Patton by the waterside. Humming softly Patton keeps himself quiet as to listen to the wonderful melody.

“You're quiet” Logan notes after a brief pause, Patton chuckles, his breath appearing in the starry night a moment later.

“Oh do keep going, you sound lovely” Patton requests, Logan stops them under the opening of the stars. He leans in kissing Patton carefully, cupping his cheeks as he does so. Patton meets Logan's hands pulling apart in a calm smile.

“Pat, look” Logan gleams watching the stars above him “Oh the sky..” Patton purses his lips, he takes Logan's cheek, kissing him softly. Logan melted into it, fiddling ever so delicately with Patton's hands in his own. “The stars Patton…” Logan wants to take one in his hand, play around with it, study every sparkle and feeble thing till he exhausted its draining light. Patton smiles.

“You're my star” He whispers gently watching as Logan continues marveling at the starlights. “Happy birthday me” He shines with pure joy, broken ever so quickly by his phone. “One-moment starlight” He excuses himself, neither phased by the nickname poured of affection, lingering on Logan's hands for a second.

“Patton Hart” He greets, a state of euphoria.

“Tick tock mister Hart, you don't have much longer” Why must the line go dead?

[grouptalekindnesssoul]

The Dragon Guarded Weapon

Warnings: Contains darker themes

This is also a first draft! So, any feedback is appreciated. It’s also very rough. 

As if spawning into a game, a young woman appeared in the center of the street. She then shook her short hair out of her blue eyes before slipping through the crowd with practiced ease, headed for a weaponsmith’s. She nodded to two other girls of about the same age as she passed. The black dyed hair bobbed as one slung a bow over her shoulder. The second had no obvious weapons, but a satchel was hanging across her body. 

“You must be the adventurer newbie. Look around, find something to your liking. I’m guessing something lightweight?” The towering, honey-toned smith asked, his voice like boulders crashing together. I shook my head and looked around, hovering over a wicked set of knives before pointing to a hammer.

“That looks to be my style” He looked at me funny but handed it to me. I tested it out by swiping it through the air. I rested it on the ground as I strapped on the sheath, standing just taller than me. 

“It suits you. Where are you off to now?” He asked as I paid. “Guards building. I’m fighting the head so we can take missions. My teammates agreed to a one on one, with me as the representative.” I smiled maliciously. He chuckled softly. 

“Don’t be too inhuman with that. I’d hate for her to come to me in a fury and demand I change your weapon” I waved as I left, smiling proudly. As I walked towards the door, Rebecca and Maddie joined me, arriving just as they were starting to look for us. I brushed past them and emerged into the courtyard training area where Captain Valerie was waiting. 

“Ready?” She asked. At my nod, she raised her shield and started circling me. She tried to jab at me with a solid sword, but I hooked my hammer to the edge of her shield. Pulling it back, I tapped her chest lightly before she could get in a counterstrike. 

  “I believe that is a win for me,” I said with a bow. She scowled at me but yielded. 

“Meet me at noon tomorrow for your first assignment”. I followed my teammates out of the courtyard. We retired to the large house on the edge of the residential section that we all shared. They both had rooms on the first floor; the ground floor was the kitchen, living room and dining room; my room was the attic. The second floor was empty at the moment. We all enjoyed dinner together before retiring. Early the next morning, I slipped out to get to the weaponsmith’s just as they opened. 

“Well, what can I do for you, little badass?” The Smith chuckled, using his height advantage to tease me. 

“I was wondering if there was any way to protect the handle. I realized that it was vulnerable, but metal would make it hard to grip and my hold on it changes throughout a fight” I said as I unsheathed it.

“Plus this is a two-handed weapon which makes a shield useless.” He finished. I nodded, as he inspected it thoughtfully. I examined my hand as he processed my request. “The best advice is to try and move faster so they don’t get to destroy it, and carry some smaller weapons just in case” He handed me a few daggers and knives, which I paid for.

“Thank you. This helps Mr. Smith” I called as I left with a smile. He waved back

“Name’s Rhett! Better call me that or I’ll give you-” I wandered out of earshot and through town for a few hours, before returning home and changing into my travel clothes. My dark brown boots with shorts and a crop top. I swung a cloak over it all to complete the look and hide my hammer and satchel. I met Rebecca at the bottom of the stairs. Her brown hair was tied in a ponytail, fingers tapping as we waited. Maddie was applying makeup since she insisted that despite leaving the town, she must still look fashionable. I played with the strap of my satchel as the time crept closer to noon. Finally, she came downstairs in a skirt and tank top, her bag draped over one shoulder. She sashayed out the door and we were forced to follow. I fell behind slightly, aiming to not be associated with that type of chichi behavior. Rhett was headed back to his shop as we passed.

“Hello, Mr. Smith!” I called cheerfully

“Why, Little badass! I thought I told you to call me by my first name!” He chuckled as I passed.

“I know! My name’s Katie by the way. Kat, Delphine, and crazy girl all work though!” I joked. I could hear his rumbling chuckle as we continued walking. We bumped into Captain Valerie just a few moments after the noon bell chimed. 

“You’re almost late. Anyway, here’s your assignment. I almost gave it to another team but I suppose since you're here I’ll still give it to you.” I glared at Maddie before glancing it over.

“This is too hard. Let us warm up to our new status by giving us something easier” 

“Hm...here, this is easier,” She said with a sneer.

“Perfect,” I said, headed out of town. I passed the paper to Becca as Maddie blew a kiss at a passing guy.

“You realize she gave us a harder assignment?” Rebecca asked as she looked it over.

“Of course. I was gloating her into that. We can handle it though, so don’t worry.” I shrugged triumphantly. There was a picture of a goat bodied, snake-headed and scorpion tailed creature. The subtitle read: 

Herd the triple-venimeux. 

“Well. Goodbye Bailymena. Hello triple-venimeux!” I drawled. Becca rolled her eyes in my direction. Our archer was fiddling with her hair. “Maddie, we’re going to leave you behind at this rate. So stop worrying about your appearance and let’s find these beasts.” I prodded her arm. She huffed in my direction before speeding up to walk beside Becca. Snatches of their conversation drifted back towards me

“Always controlling everything isn’t she?” that was Maddie

“I’ve known her...A teensy bit but...heart’s in a good place” Becca’s response was harder for me to hear since I stopped. I knew I was bad but...that bad? I started walking again to catch up. I didn’t want them to realize I’d been listening and had been affected like that. Once I caught up I smiled before pushing them down. A stream of discolored liquid landed on a tree hissing. It missed our heads by mere seconds.

“WE FOUND THEM! KATIE, LEAD THEM” Becca pushed me towards the origin. I stumbled to my feet as Maddie drew her bow. I could see that the lead one was large and brown. Behind it, upwards of a few dozens others crouched. The brown lead bared its fangs at me. I ran. Beelining for an enclosure in the distance. I ducked as I heard a hiss from behind me. Narrowly missing losing my head to another venom stream. 

“My head could use a little help!” I called over my shoulder. Maddie was busy driving a smaller poison green necked one away from Becca. I threw one of my knives at its tail, causing it to whirl around and zero in on me with a vengeance. A sapphire blue diamond-patterned one lashed out with its tail while my back was turned. I rolled out of the way just as the point of its tail hit where my heart had been. I slashed at the tail, hurtling onto its back. I tried to direct it towards the cage. The one who’d attacked first raced towards it. He apparently sensed something I didn’t. I leaped off just as the one I was riding ran through and the gate closed. I lay panting laboriously as I calmed down.

“You ok?” A voice said somewhere above me. I looked into a grease-streaked feminine face. Their brown hair was wild, despite being trapped in a ponytail.

“Uh...Yea. I think? I had a few close calls there.” I said standing up, brushing off my pants. 

“I tossed food in there. They would’ve come running once they smelled it. I’m Ross, designer of this monstrosity of an enclosure. I live in Bailymena as a mechanic usually though.” They wiped off their hands on dirty cloth.

“Katie. I’m a new adventurer with Rebecca and Maddie over there.” I nodded at the two running figures. “We come from the same place on our first journey. You may have seen us around.” 

“I have. Ross seems to always have their hands fiddling with some sort of machine. I’m Ki, the blacksmith who rooms with this crazy girl.” A curly brown head popped up from behind an anvil. The shorter girl it belonged to offered me a hand to get me on my feet.

“Nice to meet you Ki, Ross. Thank you for saving my hide.” I said as I took it. Ki’s brown eyes twinkled as she looked into my face. Ross grumbled as they fiddled with a screwdriver, muttering something about how it wasn’t anything huge and I interrupted their flow. They then shook their head, as if leaving behind the thought.

“Glad you weren’t harmed,” They said energetically as if returning from a trance. Maddie flopped on the ground once she reached us. Becca glanced over the two. 

“Come on. We have a long way to go before nightfall. Thank you both for uh...helping?” Becca poked Maddie with one toe with a scowl.

“Oh. Uh..See ya, I guess. Good Luck!” Ki said, deflating slightly. I hugged her before grabbing Maddie’s leg. She offered me a sad smile as Becca stalked off with a huff. I mouthed an apology as I dragged our prone teammate after her. Ross waved, tucking a stray clump of hair behind an ear. They seemed to recede back into her quiet concentration as we left them in the dust. I dropped Maddie and stalked up to my hazel-eyed companion.

“Why? Why did you run off like that? Nightfall is soon and we could have stayed with them!” I hissed under my breath.

“And return to town with only one task completed?! We’d be ridiculed. But you don’t care because you’re the one who can do no wrong!” Becca’s voice shot up several octaves as she shouted back at me. I threw up my hands in exasperation. I glanced at the sky to see the horizon held only the slightest hint of orange. The rest was the deep blue of night. Maddie was stacking some kindling as we fought. I bent next to her and struck one of my knives against a branch to produce a spark. Becca sat down heavily on the opposite end of the fire. I tore into a granola bar before being startled by a noise. My teammates were unbothered or didn’t notice it. I glanced around reaching for one of my weapons. I caught a pair of green eyes watching us through the fog that was forming, before disappearing back into the woods. I moved closer to the fire uneasily. Becca and Maddie went to sleep within the next hour unawares. I stayed up for a while watching the dying embers before I finally drifted off. I woke up to a gag around my mouth and my arms tied soundly behind my back. I had also been disarmed much to my embarrassment. I tried to pull my bindings over anything sharp on the ground like a rock, but there was nothing. 

“Whatcha gonna do with her now? That Captain’s, Valerie? Was it? tip paid off. But why’d you grab only her Boss?” A hiccuping voice interrupted my search. Another, smoother and silkier man’s voice answered.

“The others are untouchable. Adventurers she said. This one will be sold as a slave, if she’s lucky” A sinister laugh sent a shiver down my whole body. A steel-tipped boot kicked my side, causing me to curl up and cough up some blood. The owner grabbed my arms and forced me to my feet brutally. I stared into steely amber eyes on a deep skinned man in an immaculate suit. His black hair was carefully arranged. 

“We have a long way to go. Truman, keep an eye on her.” He said turning on one heel. 

“Ricardo. Boss.” The man, Truman, stammered out

“I told you, Ricardo is not to be used by any other than my family or business partners! And I will NOT HAVE MY HIRED HELP QUESTIONING ME!” I stood there limp as Ricardo grabbed me and threw me towards a wagon in the distance. I felt a branch tear into my right leg. I made a vague distressed noise through my gag as I watched blood gush from the wound. “GET BACK! I WILL DEAL WITH THIS ONE MYSELF” was hurled after Truman’s fleeing figure as he ran past me. He sprinted up to the wagon in the distance. I was fumbling to put something over my wound with my limited range of movement. Ricardo ripped me to my feet. “Of course you go and get yourself hurt. Maybe I can hide it with a longer skirt..” He mused to himself. I tried to twist away from him, and he let me. I fell the moment I tried putting weight on my leg. He continued on about how that would be a problem as well as he pulled me up once more. I tried to shout through the awful thing still muting me. He drew a jeweled knife from his sleeve. I shrank back as he moved it closer to me. He scoffed and cut the gag in one neat stroke.

“No screaming girl.” He said haughtily 

“Katie. My name is Katie. And I’m afraid I can’t walk since you threw me onto a sharp branch” I made known with the slightest hint of sass. He chuckled as he hoisted me into the air, still keeping my wound away from his suit. 

“Don’t get used to this. I only am doing this to make sure there’s no more damage that will result in money loss” He said, silencing any hint of humor. I glared at him, which he didn’t notice. The fog had thickened to the point I feared I was leaving a trail of blood without noticing. A scream ripped through the air near us, with a response of a hoarse roaring. Ricardo stopped as Truman came bolting out of the woods directly in front of us. A scrawny golden large cat was close on his heels. It sniffed the air and stared at me hungrily. The only thing that stopped it from approaching was my growl and a horrible imitation of its roar by Ricardo. It sprinted after the poor henchman. The unfeeling man holding me dropped me right in its trail as screams echoed through the fog. He rolled me over a few times until all I could smell was the choking scent. I was still gagging as I was once again hoisted into the air. I bit back a scream as pain from my leg made my vision blur. I moaned as my vision faded in and out with every small jolt. I finally gave up and let myself pass out. 

When I woke up, I was bouncing in the wagon, tied next to women of various ages, but I appeared to be the youngest. A few still had gags, but most were only tied at the hands and feet. My feet were free and my leg was bandaged up. The woman directly next to me was a short, medium-toned middle-aged one. My other side was facing the opening to the wagon, which was currently sealed. The woman beside me moaned slightly as she shifted, revealing bruises between her two-piece outfit, on the side she’d been just laying on. 

“Are you ok?” I murmured to her. She looked at me with warm light green eyes. After a quick acknowledgment, she looked away again. I looked away too just as the wagon’s flap was opened. A man stood there. I could hear someone complaining that they had to change a girl’s dressings since it had already been a day. The man who had just let light in grabbed me as I realized I’d been out for at least a day. Most likely closer to a day and a half or more. 

“Here you go Jayce.” The man carrying me grunted as he handed me off to a weedy, extremely pale older man. With uncaring precision, he changed the bandages on my leg. Ricardo walked over as I mumbled 

“Food? I’m really hungry” Jayce glared at me. Ricardo however, stood me up and untied my hands, leading me back to the wagon, where a short distance away a fire burned beneath a pot. He handed me a bowl with soup and a spoon. I hobbled a short distance on my own to sit down. I smiled that I could support my weight at least enough. I pretended to eat until barely anyone was watching then flung my bowl into the fire where it caused a huge ruckus. I pushed myself to my feet and moved as quickly as I could to the wagon. Grabbing a discarded knife, I jumped into the wagon and began cutting women free. I started wailing as well, hoping someone was nearby and would recognize it. Other women took up the cry as I pushed them towards the woods, finishing freeing them all. I hobbled after them as two women appeared, just as the first of the group reached the woods. They stepped aside as the freed prisoners rushed away. The taller of the two watched with unblinking eyes as the last of them besides me disappeared. The shorter brushed her brown hair out of her face as she turned to return to whatever they were doing. The black-haired girl snickered as men called for her to help catch the fleeing women. She led the way back into the forest as my leg finally gave up under my weight and the stress I’d been putting on it.

[lady-charinette]

Papachat/GrandpaHawkmoth AU: A Shocking Reveal MLB

One of my Papachat (Dad!Chat Noir, Dad!Adrien, Mama!Mari AUs). Of course, Hugo and Emma are their kids. Gabriel mellowed out over the years due to his grandkids, but he's still a bit of a prick as Hawkmoth. What happens if he finds out who LB and CN actually are?

Chat Noir did a careful backflip, viciously pushing back the flock of birds heading towards him as he protectively placed one hand over his daughter's head, who was squirming strapped to his front.

After gaining a safe distance away, Chat kissed the top of her head soothingly, "Sorry princess, daddy will make this quick."

His gaze immediately zeroed in on his wife and son, who spun her yoyo effortlessly against a charging rhino, Hugo happily reaching out with his hands to touch the almost glowing red of the spinning yoyo. Ladybug quickly moved back as soon as the rhino collapsed on the ground in exhaustion, the spinning yoyo having messed with his perception at such close proximity.

Chat quickly grabbed his wife around the waist and she placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him, "Chat no."

He fixed her with a stern look, "This is not up for discussion bugaboo, we've got kids on board. I doubt Hawkmoth has a good corner in his heart to stop his attack on us as soon as he sees we have children. I'll get you away to our balcony, you'll take Emma and I'll defeat the akuma and bring it to you to purify it."

Ladybug tightened her hold on her husband, their gazes locked in a battle of wills, "You're crazy to think I'll leave you alone like this with the entire zoo against you. Remember what happened with Anima back then?"

He pouted, his ears flopping to his head adorably, Emma stretched her arms out to reach for them, "We were young...and I was a kitty up against a full grown panther." He playfully flexed his bicep, grinning widely, "Now I'm a panther myself." he winked and Emma and Hugo cheered, as if their father said something funny.

Ladybug groaned and rolled her eyes, "Chat Noir, I swear-"

His eyes flew open and he quickly grabbed his wife and slammed the end of his staff on the ground, propelling them in the air just in time to dodge the crocodile that had nearly crushed their legs in it's jaws.

Ladybug gasped, looking back at the whining crocodile and holding on tight to Chat Noir as they soared through the air, "Alright, Plan B."

Chat smiled in relief, intending to change course and head for home, "You go with Hugo and Emma and I'll make quick work of the angry kitty over there."

Chat Noir's head nearly dislocated itself when he turned around to look at his wife, "What?! No! That's not what I meant m'lady!"

Ladybug frowned, "It's either you or me kitty and I hate to see you constantly fight my battles for me." she caressed his jaw, worry and sadness in her expression.

Chat Noir frowned, landing softly on top of a roof, taking his lady's hand, " They're not your battles, I'm a hero too remember? Any fights we have are ours, but you know as well as I do that you're the only one who can purify the akuma at the end. Even if I get injured, Lucky Charm can fix it." he paused, then smirked, cupping his wife's cheek, "Or Marinette the beautiful seamstress can patch me up." he smiled cheekily and kissed her cheek affectionately, making a quick sweep of the commotion below to ensure their hiding spot hasn't been found yet.

Ladybug's cheeks were a bright pink, despite being married to this dork for years and having two children, he could still make her blush like when they were teenagers, "It was you that started the whole 'Marichat' shipping craze when we were 16, wasn't it?" She fixed him with an arched brow, Emma copying her expression to stare up at her father.

Chat Noir fixed the collar of his suit nervously, "Hey, don't forget why fans started climbing over my gates because of 'Ladrien." He rolled his eyes, giving her a pointed look.

Ladybug spluttered, "T-that was-! I-I was worried as a responsible hero of Paris over your civilian safety!"

Chat gave a slow grin, "Right. That's also why Marinette baked me cookies and croissants every second day on our movie nights, hm?" he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and Ladybug huffed and pushed his face away, Emma giggling and trying to do the same, only reached her father's chin eith her small hands.

Chat Noir looked down at his giggling son, "Hugo! Help! Purrty please?"

Hugo stretched his own arms out to poke at his face and Chat sighed, "Traitor..." gently playing with Hugo's outstretched fingers, who shrieked with laughter.

Almost immediately Ladybug and Chat Noir turned around, certain that the akuma must have heard their son. They got too caught up in the moment while on the job. While they accepted it as something normal due to their status as parents, it shouldn't happen.

Especially not with the danger so close to their kids.

As predicted, the birds came rushing towards them again and they both sprinted off the edge of the roof, using yoyo and staff to land carefully on the ground.

Chat looked at his partner, "Alright, we need another plan."

Ladybug nodded, preparing to throw her yoyo in the air, "Lucky-"

Her yoyo was caught mid-air, a large golden blur flying over their heads.

It was a lion, a large one at that.

Holding her yoyo in it's maw, the lion dropped it to put it's massive paw on it, baring it's teeth at the duo, Hawkmoth's mask appearing over his face, "Finally, without your yoyo, you're defenseless Ladybug!" Hawkmoth's voice came out of the lion's maw and Chat Noir took a defensive stance in front of his wife, who positioned her hands in the chinese martial art ways her mother taught her in these situations.

"Not as long as this kitty got its claws, Hawkmoth!" Chat Noir snarled, waiting to see what the lion would do.

Hawkmoth laughed, "You believe a defenseless bug and a cat carrying babies stand a chance against my army?!" as if on cue, the entirety of the zoo circled around them and they slowly backed into the wall, Ladybug protecting her back and Chat covering the rest of her blindspots as he faced the akuma.

Ladybug, despite her position, shouted angrily, "You truly are heartless Hawkmoth! We believed after years of terrorizing Paris you'd see the error of your ways but you won't even back down from attacking our children!" Her fists shook and Chat knew his little bug could be even scarier than a lion when it came to her children. He wasn't any different.

Another laugh, "Now, now, Ladybug, all I want is your Miraculous. If you give them to me before these animals can attack you, I assure you your children will remain unharmed." They didn't buy it for a second.

The mask grew brighter around the lion's face, "Attack!" the lion roared loudly, the fierce sound causing all the other animals to start their advance on the cornered heroes.

Chat Noir pressed his back closer to his wife, "I'll hold them off as long as I can. If you see an opening, run!"

Ladybug squeezed his shoulder in encouragement and support, "I'll get my yoyo and come back chaton." she kissed his cheek and the couple braced themselves for the onslaught.

Just then, a chain reaction occured.

Emma's fidgeting caused her mask to slip off her face, the small Chat Noir mask they'd made for their children to be outside when they were in their suits and she started crying.

Hugo, hearing his sister in distress, started wailinng too, throwing off his own Ladybug mask in frustration, the mask bouncing off the concrete, close to where the lion's paws were.

Hawkmoth's voice suddenly boomed across the field, "STOP!"

Both Chat Noir and Ladybug froze when suddenly the lion jumped in front of them and the rest of the animal kingdom stopped mid-charge and backed away from the mighty animal.

The lion threw Ladybug's yoyo at her feet, both heroes staring from the yoyo towards the lion, where Hawkmoth's mask was still glowing, "You! What sort of heroes are you?! Allowing children outside during akuma attacks?!"

What?

Chat Noir lowered his staff only partially, still wary of the sudden panic in Hawkmoth's voice, "What's your game Hawkmoth?" his ears drew back.

The lion marched forward, away from the heroes, chasing away all the other animals, "Mark my words Ladybug and Chat Noir, I will get your Miraculous!" he paused, an oddly familiar worried tone seeping into his normal rough one, "But without exposing the children to dangers like this! They must have relatives to babysit them while you're fighting my akumas!"

Chat leaned down to whisper in his wife's ear, "Did he finally go senile?"

She gently rocked her son in her arms, leaning down to pick up the Ladybug mask.

A thought suddenly occured to her, "Why would Hawkmoth retreat as soon as he saw our kids unmasked?"

Chat Noir bent to pick up his own miniature mask, gently putting it back on his princess, purring soothingly to calm her down, "Maybe he knows them in his civilian form?"

Ladybug didn't doubt that, they were well known in France after all, but...

Her eyes widened, "You don't think..."

Chat froze, "...No way."

Ladybug settled a hand over her son's head, "That Hawkmoth is afraid of Gabriel doing something to him?"

Chat rubbed his chin, "It's true that father has threatened a cycler once to ban him from ever stepping foot into any store ever if he came close to Emma or Hugo again, just because our little rascals decided the sidewalk was their playground." he gently bobbed Hugo's nose who laughed happily, tears dried up.

Ladybug shook her head, "It seems silly but...grandpa Gabriel is a force to be reckoned with."

Chat Noir nodded.

Meanwhile...

"I don't believe this!" a detransformed Gabriel kept pacing the expanse of his lair, butterflies flying which way to dodge his stormy gaits.

Nooroo followed his master worriedly, anxious to see what the new revelation would do to him, "Master?"

Gabriel abruptly turned to him, making the kwami back away, "Nooroo! Do you know what this meams?!"

Nooroo didn't even want to think of suggesting he stopped being Hawkmoth.

Gabriel ran a hand down his face, "I have to stop Hawkmoth from harming my grandchildren!"

The kwami blinked, "What?"

Gabriel exited his lair, spotting Nathalie standing in front of the doorway, "Nathalie, I want you to publish a public statement concerning Hawkmoth's attacks." his assistant's eyes were wide with surprise, thinking he turned a new leaf- "Tell the public that from now on, Hawkmoth's attacks will spare akumatizing families or parents. Parents have the responsibility of getting their children to safety, any who fail to do so will suffer dire consequences from me."

With that, Gabriel grabbed his coat and left.

Nathalie sighed, used to his overprotective ways since becoming a grandfather.

A few minutes after they detransformed and fed Emma and Hugo, breaking news immediately flashed in front of the screen.

Nadja Chamak came into view with a concerned expression as she read from her info-card, "Dear citizens of Paris, there's been a statement right after the latest akuma attacks from Hawkmoth himself!"

Both heroes sat frozen stiff on the family couch, watching as the camera panned to none other than Mayura, who cleared her throat as she gazed at the camera professionally, "Greetings citizens of Paris, Hawkmoth's plans have changed." hope sparked within Marinette's chest, "From now on, families and individuals with children who fail to bring their children to safety will suffer consequences from Hawkmoth himself, furthermore there will be no more akumatizations of families any longer."

Marinette and Adrien's jaws were hanging open, just as a knock came on their door.

When Adrien opened it to see who it was, shivers ran down their spines.

It was Gabriel.

The man allowed himself to enter and fixed both parents with a stern look, " It has come to my attention that Hugo and Emma have been a part of the last akuma attack." he took a deep breath, "How could it happen that they landed in the hands of Chat Noir and Ladybug?! Where have you two been?"

Gabriel cleared his throat, "Also, from now on I shall take care of Emma and Hugo between 12pm and 3pm." Those were Hawkmoth's usual akuma times.

Both Marinette and Adrien were at a loss for words.

[livefreeordie13]

Day 4 (2 Minutes)

Day 4 of @souyoweek2019 “Hanging out with Nanako or Avoiding Dojima”

Yosuke had seen the warning signs.

warnings: explicit; blow jobs; mentions of masturbation; borderline public sex

(2 Minutes)

Yosuke had seen the warning signs. He knew that both he and Yu should have carved out more time together in the weeks leading up to Yu’s uncle’s visit. In his defense, he’d tried to get Yu to ignore their alarm that morning, kissing and moaning into his partner’s mouth and tracing his hands up his sides in a last ditch effort to end the dry spell before company lingered in their house for three days. The attempt had seemed to go well at first. He had been convinced when their alarm blared to life next to them that Yu would grumble, shut it off, and get back to business.

And he had grumbled, and shut it off - but he’d also gotten up, even as Yosuke whined and tried to pull him back down. They both had erections; it was pointless to stop, he’d insisted. Yu had just smirked down at him and given him a deliberately sultry kiss before sliding off of him for good to head to the bathroom.

Yosuke had barely believed it. Yu had always been more in control of his “urges” but the brunet was truly appalled by his partner’s composure since they hadn’t done it for literal weeks. It made Yosuke feel a little like a rabid dog, and he hadn’t liked it. But, all he had been able to do was groan, work one out, and get on with the day. Even he could admit that they had been on a time crunch that morning, which eventually helped him understand his partner’s reluctance to keep going.

But if they had been on a time crunch that morning, then Yu had zero excuses for what he was doing to Yosuke now. After quickly getting Yosuke hard with a little impromptu groping, Yu had them pressed into their bedroom wall, half-dressed, right in the middle of literally getting ready for dinner with their houseguest.

They had a reservation.

Yosuke had croaked as much, in the lowest voice he could manage as Yu fumbled Yosuke’s erection out from his slacks. But his partner was already on his knees, taking Yosuke’s hot length into his mouth with a few quick bobs of his head. No preamble, no teasing licks and flicks of his tongue, just immediate head. His spine jolted and he grabbed onto the wall with his fingertips, his quivering voice far beyond his control. “Yu . . .”

All he could do was look down at him - his beautifully pale skin tinged just the slightest bit pink at the cheekbones, the unbuttoned white dress shirt with nothing beneath it, showing off his toned, heaving chest. And then there was the fact that he wasn’t wearing pants, and his black boxers showed off the large bulge within rather nicely. The biggest draw was Yu’s mouth, though, pink and wet in a perfect “O” around him, with the perfectly stoic way he dipped back and forth effectively cutting off Yosuke’s ability to look at anything else. “Oh, fuck, Yu-”

“Shhh,” Yu said as he pulled off for a second. He licked his lips and went in again, his hand filling in the space between his mouth and the base so he could make sure all of Yosuke’s length was covered. Deep in Yu’s mouth, Yosuke could feel his partner’s tongue slide down the underside of his cock, then stop to flick the spot just beneath the head. He couldn’t stop the second moan of Yu’s name, not that he tried.

“Shhhhhh,” Yu said again - again pulling off.

“Yu, what’re you doing . . .”

“Yu? You guys almost ready?”

The voice from right outside their door sucked the fog from Yosuke’s mind like a vacuum. He would have sworn his heart even stopped.

Then, as if nothing had happened, as if Yu’s uncle wasn’t less than a foot away, Yu began jerking him off. “Yeah, Ojisan, just finishing up.”

Yu’s mouth was slick with spit and precum when he’d said that, not that this fact seemed to faze him. Yosuke’s breath was lodged in his chest, trapped by both fear and arousal and unsure which instinct was more pressing. He slapped a hand over his mouth.

“We have to be there in twenty minutes. I know you kids trust this Tokyo train schedule with your life, but it’s been late before.”

“We’ll make it there in time. Don’t worry.” Yu leaned in and flicked his tongue over Yosuke’s head, which caused it to twitch and rudely bump into his lips. The shot of pleasure in Yosuke’s thighs butted up against the palm holding his mouth closed, and a noise slipped through. Thankfully, it wasn’t a big one, just enough to scare him enough to hold his breath.

“I’m setting my watch for two minutes. I want you both at the door by then.”

Yu pulled his lips away, an annoyed look plastered all over his face, trailed by a string of Yosuke’s precum. “Ojisan, that’s really not necessary. We’re grown men.”

“Then you should prioritize your time better.”

Yu scoffed and rolled his eyes with an utterance of “ridiculous” under his breath. They could then hear the sound of shoes over hardwood floors gradually heading down the hall, and Yosuke was horrified that neither of them had heard the same when Dojima approached their door before. Well, it was possible that Yu had and just hadn’t let it interfere. Yosuke squirmed where he stood, aggravated and close to coming and not completely assured he could start talking again.

Like it would have been possible anyway, since Yu quickly got back to work. The tight coils of panic in Yosuke’s stomach gradually melted away as pleasure moved into fill its place. Yu stuck a hand into Yosuke’s slacks to run fingers in gentle, light strokes beneath his damp ballsack, tight and ready to burst. As his cock pulsed, Yosuke realized he’d moved his hand away from his own mouth to grab desperately at Yu’s hair, and that his breath was coming, rough and ragged, into the still air of their bedroom. He prayed Dojima was downstairs by now.

He came after only a few seconds, hunching over at the speed of it. The orgasm hit hard and forced his breath out, along with another scattering of moans. Yu buried Yosuke’s cock in his mouth to avoid spillage, but Yosuke only cared about how sublime the smooth plane of his tongue felt as his cock pulsed over it and poured down Yu’s throat.  

Eventually, Yu let Yosuke use his hand to pull his mouth away, which didn’t look . . . remotely passable, as it was stained red and dripping fluid. His eyes were watery too and oh he looked so good, good enough to kiss, if Yosuke could ever catch his breath.

He slurred something (he was trying to tell Yu he had to sit down), and slid to the floor.

“No, what you are doing, get up!” Yu smacked his arm. He wiped his mouth with his fist and then began buttoning his shirt. “Dojima’s waiting for us.”

“D-” Yosuke panted, swallowing because his throat was dry. The back of his head hit the door with a small thud and he closed his eyes. “Dude, gimme a second, okay?”

“We probably only have a minute left. And we are behind schedule.” Yu had finished with his shirt and was adjusting his cock in his boxers (Yosuke guessed, so that it wouldn’t look so obvious in slacks maybe).

“Then why the hell did you blow me?” he asked, not even bothering to hide his frustration.

Yu grinned, not taken aback by Yosuke’s emotional response one bit. He finished his adjustment, or whatever, then leaned forward, placing his hands on Yosuke’s knees and scraping them down his thighs, which his spent and partially-erect cock still throbbed dully between. “Don’t tell me you didn’t find that a little fun.”

He planted a chaste kiss against Yosuke’s open lips. Then, leaned back and stood up.

Yosuke sat there and stared after his partner dumbly as he finished dressing himself - until Yu tossed Yosuke’s dress shirt at him, hitting him in the face.

“Guys! Time’s up!” they heard from downstairs.

“We’re coming!” They both shouted.

[staticscreenwriting]

the same sunset  - chapter three

Chapter three - trashed

Masterlist : add /tsmstorymasterlist after my URL

The music sounding from Carol’s house can be heard all the way to the other end of the street where Billy parks his car in the driveway that leads to nowhere. It seems there has once been a house there but now it’s just a deserted spot being used by teenager to park their cars whenever Carol decides it’s time to throw another rager.

Walking down the street towards the party, Billy can’t help but admire the confidence Cleo seems to emmit. It’s different to his. His is fake and take all the effort in the world to uphold. Hers seems to come natural. No effort at all.

“ You know “ she speaks up as they’re just a few houses away from Carol’s “ you can go in first if you want. They’re gonna talk if they see us arrive together. And I’ll have you know, as hard as it is to believe, I am not the most popular person. So if you don’t wanna ruin that cool brooding bad boy persona you have going on, I understand. They don’t need to see us together. “

“ Don’t make a big deal of it, then they won’t “ Billy replies. Back in California he was a different person. People there had known him since childhood and with them he didn’t ever really have to think about any image he wanted to uphold. He was just Billy. His mullet, the camaro, the music and the jeans. Those were just things that belonged to him as much as Max’ red hair belonged to her. They mean different things now.

In California he was Billy first, all the other things came with him.

Here they saw the car first, the outfits, the attitude. The loud music and the constant unbothered look etched onto his face. And from that they made up their own image of who he was. And it worked in his favor really. He’s adored by the girls and admired by most boys. And if that means he has to pretend not to be bothered by shit than so be it. Seeming numb is easy. He’s gotten a lot of practice at home.

“ Oh boy, you’re so not a small town boy. “ Cleo says and skips ahead of him a few steps, giving Billy a perfect view of her ass in jeans that are fitting like a god-damn glove. He can’t suppress a smirk, thinking back to Pete’s disapproving look back at the diner.

There’s a red solo cup pushed into his hand as soon as Billy enters the house. That awful “I Ran” song is blasting through the stereo and Billy remembers the reason he usually gets shitfaced at Carol’s parties. The music sucks.

Cleo walks further into the room and is swallowed by the crowd before Billy can figure out where she’s going. Only a mess of blonde hair visible as she squeezes herself between the dancing teenagers.

“ You know, when you asked me about her I just thought you were curious. Didn’t think you were into her “.

Of course it’s Tommy who hands Billy the drink, he’s probably been sitting by the door waiting for him to show up. It’s a little sad really, Tommy’s been following Billy around like a lost puppy from day one. But then again, no matter how annoying or clingy he is, Tommy is not a bad guy. He’s just not the brightest crayon in the box but Billy can deal with that. Also he’s Billy’s walking encyclopedia on all things Hawkins High and always knows when and where the parties are happening.  

“ Shut up, man. It’s not like that. I uh — I work at her dad’s diner. We were just carpooling here. That’s it”.

“ You have a job ? “ Tommy asks dumbfounded. His eyebrows are raised in question and for a moment it makes Billy angry.

“ We don’t all have a dad who blows money up our ass and buys everything for us, Tommy “

It’s a little harsh, Billy admits that, but that doesn’t make it any less true. Tommy’s dad is the owner of some big ass lumber yards all over Indiana, dispensing wood to all kinds of high class furniture stores to make fancy sofas for fancy people, like Tommy’s dad.

Billy’s met him a few times and he seems to have zero backbone and the personality of a sponge but his wallet is wide open. Probably to make him feel better about not giving a proper shit about his son. As long as Tommy doesn’t get too out of line, his dad doesn’t really pay him any attention. He’s supposed to take over the business someday in the future. That’s the end game. Everything until then doesn’t really matter.

“ Hey sorry, man. That’s not what I meant. I think it’s cool you’re working. Do you think you can get us a discount if we come around ? “

Billy only shakes his head, a smirk finding a way onto his lips again. Tommy’s a fucking nuisance most of the time, like everything and everyone in this place. But he’s honest and Billy can appreciate that a whole lot.

“ Dunno. “

As he takes a drink from the cup, Billy immediately regrets his decision. It tastes like Cranberry juice and disappointment. Whatever vodka concoction they’ve mixed together, it fucking blows. Like a prom punch spiked by some over enthusiastic junior.  

“ Thomas, show me where the beers are and we can see about that discount “ Billy says and throws his arm around Tommy’s shoulder. If he was gonna enjoy this party, bad music and shitty drinks and all, he needs beer. Lots of it.

- OOO -

Billy’s hands softly trail down the path of Erika Kapelsky’s curves. There’s some Bon Jovi song playing over the speakers and she seems to go wild on that stuff. Her ass has been rubbing his crotch for the last 5 minutes. At this point he is 99.9% sure he’s gonna score big time. He’s heard she gives great head. That she’s flexible too.

“ I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick. Take me home when I come back ? Parents are on a business trip “ she murmures into his ear and softly bites his lobe as she pulls away.

That’s the good thing about rich kids, Billy thinks. Their parents are always on some uber important trips for work. It’s like they’re preaching abstinence and safe sex and then do everything in their power to make sure their kids get laid as much as possible. Like leaving them alone in a big ass mansion.

“ Sure “ he agrees and watches her walk away, hips swaying dramatically. She knows how to put on a show.

“ Erica huh ? Nice one, dude “ it’s like as soon as he is alone Tommy gravitates back towards Billy. Sometimes it makes him feel like he has an actual friend. Other times it’s just annoying.

“ Yeah “ as Billy looks towards the door Erica has just disappeared through, his eyes catch movement coming from the hallway next to it.

The big mess of blonde curls on Cleo’s head is bobbing up and down as Cleo hurries down the hallway. There’s stains of what Billy assumes is the shitty prom punch all over her shirt and she’s … crying ?

He doesn’t know for sure but she’s angry that’s obvious. Her lips are pulled into a scowl and her eyebrows are furrowed. She squeezes her way through the crowd and towards the door.

For a moment Billy wants to follow. Wants to figure out what happened, if she’s crying and why. He doesn’t though.

Not his mess. Not his problem.

That’s something his dad always says. It’s a motto that’s been drilled into Billy’s head ever since he was a kid.

He remembers when he was just a little boy, maybe 5 years old. Back in California when his mom was still alive. They didn’t have shit back then but a tiny house and a rusty old car. His mom was working at a beach hut in the mornings, selling overpriced postcards and plastic seashell necklaces to tourists. Dad was constantly between jobs, saying that he just hadn’t found the right one yet. Truth is, no one wants to hire a raging alcoholic.

They didn’t have much back then but Billy liked the house, liked the neighbourhood, because there were kids there. One of them was Gracie Tempers. She lived across the street and she came over to Billy’s house a lot because her mom was working late and Billy’s mom was home in the afternoon to have an eye on the kids.

Gracie’s mom would always come and pick her up, never her dad. And she always had a cup of coffee with Billy’s mom. She was crying a lot but back then little Billy had no idea what was going on. She had a lot of black eyes too.

One night Billy couldn’t sleep so he snuck towards the kitchen, hoping to find his mother still awake so he could ask for a warm milk with some honey, his mom’s special.

Instead he found mom and dad arguing, again. When he heard Mrs. Tempers’ name he decided to hide behind the door and listen. They were yelling. Actually it was mostly his dad. Actually it was only his dad. His mom was talking in a quiet hushed voice. So timid. So scared. She wanted to help Mrs. Tempers. Wanted to “ call the cops “ Billy didn’t know what was going on then and he didn’t know if that was a good thing. Mom always said the police was someone you could go to whenever you needed help. Dad called them corrupt pigs.

Anyway. She wanted to call the cops and “get her away from him”. Billy didn’t know who “he” was either.

But no matter how hard she was pleading, how reasonable she was explaining. Dad’s booming voice kept repeating “ This is not your mess, Rebecca ! Not your problem ! “.

Cleo isn’t’ his mess either. Isn’t his problem.

So instead of going after her, Billy turns back towards the door waiting for Erica to be done so he can take her home and create a whole different kind of mess.

- OOO -

The cold air nips at Cleo’s nose as she walks down the street of this seemingly perfect suburban hell.

She should’ve known better. That’s the bottom line of it all. Should’ve known that showing up with Billy Hargrove would cause unwanted attention. Negative attention. That people would take it as some kind of threat to their social status.

Tina has always been a mean person. Someone that doesn’t lash out but observes. She schemes and calculates and figures out where to hit people so it hurts the most and leaves the most damage.

And whether she does it just out of pure spite or because she has some deep rooted insecurities that she wants to hide behind her malice, Cleo doesn’t know. In the end, it doesn’t matter anyway.

What matters is that Cleo should’ve known better. Billy is all Tina wanted since the moment he stepped foot onto the grounds of Hawkins High. And when Tina feels even a little threatened in getting what she wants, she knows exactly how to retaliate.

Cleo roughly wipes away the tears still rolling down her cheeks. Tina’s opinion shouldn’t matter. Her words shouldn’t matter. And really, they don’t. That doesn’t mean they don’t hurt.

And it’s not even the stuff about Cleo that hurt. It’s the stuff she said about her mom. Those things cut deep. Those things, Tina really doesn’t know shit about. But the worst thing ? Carol stood there and she said nothing and she did nothing. Just turned away as if she hadn’t held Cleo’s hand at her mother’s grave. As if she didn’t take care of her when she had a panic attack the night before the funeral.

As if she hadn’t been an important part of her life for so long. For the good times, but especially the bad times.

Sure they aren’t friends anymore, fair enough. But does that mean all that once was is erased and means nothing anymore ?

The air stings against Cleo’s bare arms, clings to the wet patches on her shirt. This night is a complete and utter mess and she should’ve known better.

There’s a light still burning on the porch and one in the living room. No matter how easy going her dad always pretends to be, he’s still a dad. A dad who acts like he got caught up watching old football games but really deliberately stays up to make sure his girl is getting home okay.

On one hand, Cleo is eternally grateful for the wonderful dad she has. On the other hand, it makes hiding stuff so much harder. Like tear stained cheeks. And punch soaked shirts. And anger. And sadness.

“ Hey kid, I — Cleo ? “ the smile on her dad’s face immediately falls as he takes note of her obvious misery.

“ It’s not as bad as it looks. I’m okay, can we — can we not talk about it ?”

Ever since Cleo was a kid, mom was responsible for the emotional stuff. The long talks and the cheering up. For the rough stuff. The sad stuff.

Dad was the goof who went and bought entirely too much ice cream and put on her favorite movie even though they’d all seen it a million times before.

Ever since her mom was dead, that kind of shifted. Dad had to be both, the goof and the emotional support system. And it is weird for everyone involved. Neither Cleo nor her dad are particularly good at talking about their feelings so after a while they put a system in place that seems to work for them both.

If one doesn’t talk about it on their own accord, no questions are being asked. It’s easier that way. Or maybe they just pretend it’s easier. Either way, Cleo is grateful about that system right now. Because how would she even begin to explain that it all starts and ends with that fact that her mother would still be alive if it wasn’t for her ?

“ Uh — yeah sure. Sure. “

“ Cool, thanks “ she nods and walks towards the stairs. As she is about to round the corner, her dad’s voice echoes through the halls, calling out to her.

“ Cleo ? “

“ Huh ? “

“ There’s some mint chocolate chip ice cream in the freezer. Just — just if you need it. “

And for the first time since running into Tina, a small smile finds its way onto Cleo’s face.

- OOO -

Billy’s head feels like exploding. Like he’s in a comic and a big ass anvil has been dropped down on him.

The morning sun is shining brightly but the air is cold as he climbs out of Erika’s bedroom window and walks down the street lined by identical houses with identical white fences. There’s perfectly cut lawns, even in the winter, and the frost clings onto the grass making it glimmer in the sun.

The mailboxes are pridefully displaying the names of the families, some of which Billy recognizes from school. Of course people would want others to know they live here. These houses are massive.

He wonders if the people here are genuinely happy or if they have to play pretend, just like he does. He wonders if things were different would his family live in one of these houses. If Neil wasn’t such a fuck up and actually had a proper job that could provide the family with a better living situation, would he be less angry? Would Billy be ?

After a few minutes of passing big ass houses and pristine lawns and picket fences and artsy mailboxes, he arrives at his car.

There’s noticeably less cars here now than there were last night. Next to his Camaro is Tommy’s car which means he’s probably stayed over at Carol’s last night. Whatever those two have, Billy thinks, is a big old mess. They’re constantly at each other’s throats. Either fighting or making out. It’s exhausting for him, and he’s only watching from the sidelines.

Billy slumps down into the driver’s seat of his beloved Camaro. It smells like leather and cigarettes and honestly, it’s a smell that’s become incredibly comforting to him. His car is so much more than just a status symbol. It’s his way out. His escape. When things at home get too bad he can always get in his car and drive around. Aways from the yelling. Away from his father’s anger.

Away from home.

He turns towards the passenger side of his car, itching for a cigarette and hoping to find on in the glove compartment. Instead he’s faced with Cleo’s denim jacket discarded on his passenger seat.

He wants to ignore it. Pretend it isn’t there and just wait for her to come and get it. That’s another thing you learn in the Hargrove household. Don’t let your shit lying around or it’s gone. Neil never had any respect for any of Billy’s things so if he wasn’t being careful with it, Neil would just throw it in the trash.

He wants to ignore Cleo’s jacket so badly. But he can’t. He doesn’t.

- OOO -

The Finch’s two story home is painted a pale blue color. There’s paint chipping from the doorframes and the windows. The front yard looks clean enough but it’s not even close to the front yards he’s seen in Carol’s neighbourhood.

Their little white mailbox says “Finch” in what seems to be the handwriting of a young child. There’s 4 handprints. One big one that he bets belongs to Pete. A bright red one that he can only imagine belongs to a slightly younger version of Cleo. There’s a teeny tiny one that he’s sure is Charlie’s. Then there’s another one. It’s smaller than Pete’s but only slightly bigger than Cleo’s.

His heart drops a little at the realization of who’s handprint it is.

He wonder how she does it. How she lives through losing her mother and doesn’t end up resenting the whole world for it, like he does. He wonders if things would be different if Neil wasn’t such a piece of shit and actually gave a damn about Billy and his grief and this perpetual feeling of anger and bitterness. If he had someone like Pete in his life, would things be — ok ?

His mind drifts back to Cleo’s words from that time in the diner when she made them grilled cheese “Things are rough all over”. Maybe they are. Maybe they’re rougher for some though.

Denim jacket grasped tightly on one hand, Billy walks up the porch steps towards the door with the chipped white paint and rings the doorbell. He doesn’t know what to say to Cleo when she answers, if she answers. It’s not like he cares about her particularly much or about the fact that she was klutzy enough to leave her jacket, in the middle of November no less.

He’s not sure why he’s here in the first place. Maybe because her crying face has sneaked it’s way into the back of his mind every one in a while since last night.

Or maybe because he feels guilty for not bringing her home safe as he had told Pete he would.

Or maybe because he was curious about what happened.

Or maybe all of the above.

Though it’s not Cleo that opens the door. It’s a wild mop of bright red hair and a smile missing one tooth.

“ Billy ? “ Charlie asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“ Hey. ‘s Cleo home ? “

“ No. Why ? “

He hated being questioned. There’s hardly any privacy at home. Every part of his life seems to be considered public property to Neil. Secrets are dangerous. So when you are asked, you either answer or you face the consequences.

“ She left her jacket in my car. Hey where is she ? “

“ What does it matter ? “

“ I wanna give it back “

“ You can just leave it here. She’ll be back home eventually. “

Charlie seemed nice enough for a kid that one time he met her, but Billy can’t deny that right now she’s seriously testing his patience.

“ I know I can but I want to give it to her personally. If that’s okay with you of course. “ he snaps at her and immediately feels bad as he sees the sliver of uncertainty and — fear in her eyes.

“ Look — “ he starts and pinches the bridge of his nose “ — I let her leave the party alone last night and I feel bad about it, okay ? So just tell me where she is and I’ll give this thing back and say sorry and then we can go back to seeing each other at work and that’s it .”

Charlie bites her lip in uncertainty. Billy can see her considering all options. Finally settling on the thought that her sister deserves an apology if Billy is willing to give one, Charlie grants him a small smile and replies “ you know where the old junk yard is ? “

- OOO -

The november sun stands high up in the sky when Billy arrives at the junkyard. There’s a lot of shit lying around. Mostly tires and bottles, pieces of wood, half gutted cars and a variety of metal signs that seem like the used to decorate the shop fronts of Hawkin’s downtown once upon a time.

He spots Cleo the moment he steps out of his car. She’s in a pair of ripped jeans and a gray sweater that looks 2 sizes too big for her and falls off of one shoulder. Her blond curls are pulled into a messy ponytail but a few strands have escaped and frame the side of her face.

The thing that makes him wonder though, is the baseball bat clutched rightly in her hand.

He can her Black Sabbath playing loudly from small radio propped up on an old oil drum.

The pebbles are crunching beneath his boots as he approaches her and when she lifts her head, Billy can see nothing but annoyance in her eyes.

“ The hell are you doing here ? “ she asks, her voice rid of all her usually bubbliness.

“ You left your jacket in my car. You know, where I come from girls do that to make boy call them back. “ he says and smirks. He knows that wasn’t her intention but if there’s an opportunity to tease, Billy sure as hell isn’t gonna let it go.

“ Well here it just means that I forgot my jacket. Sorry to hurt your ego. “

“ Oh it doesn’t. Trust me. “

His gaze moves from her towards the baseball bat, then back to her. “ What the hell are you even doing with that thing ? “

Billy can see the smirk pulling at the corner of her lips. It’s tiny and barely there but he can notice it anyway.

“ Break stuff. “

She accompanies her words with a swing of the bat , slamming it into one of the rusting cars. There’s the crashing of metal and glass and the music all mixing together to create a melody of absolute chaos.

Cleo pulls back again and places another hit against the vehicle. Then another. And a fourth before she blows one of the stray curly away from her face and glances at Billy through the corner of her eye “ you wanna try ? “

He shrugs and takes the bat from her hand. “ You gotta make it count though. “

“ The hit ? “

“ Mmh “ Cleo nods then hoists herself up on the hood of another car.

And Billy makes it count. Not the first time. But when Cleo calls out to him to “ think of something that makes you really fucking angry “ he puts his all in the hit.

He thinks of his mother dying. His friends who don’t bother calling. His dad. All of it. Everything. 

It’s like with every time the bat descends onto the metal, his shoulders feel a little lighter. Like he gets to let go of his anger for a moment there and channel it all into the task of destroying the damn car. It’s what it feels like whenever he gets into fights only without the stupid consequences.

“ Feels good ? “ Cleo asks, sipping on a bottle of what he assumes is beer.

And when he looks up at her he can’t help but smile. Genuinely smile “ feels awesome! “

- OOO -

The two teens are lounging on the hood of an old Cadillac from the 50s sipping on their beers and watching the sun slowly set behind the trees. The junkyard sits atop a hill and you can just make out the outskirts of Hawkins from up here.

“ Why’d you come ? You could’ve just left the jacket at my place and leave. “ Cleo asks, eyes trained on the horizon.

“ What do I know. Thought I owed you this much. “

“ Why would you owe me ? “ she still doesn’t look at him but as Billy glances at her, he can see her pull her eyebrows together in confusion.

“ I saw you crying and I — ugh I don’t know okay ? Just wanted to see if you’re alright. Don’t make a big deal of it. “

She doesn’t. It makes her smile anyway.

“ Well thanks “

“ Whatever. “

For a moment it’s silent then Billy speaks up again.

“ What was that about anyway ? The whole crying thing ? “

“ They talked shit about my mom “ Cleo says and takes the last sip from the bottle before throwing it against the mount of trash making it break into little pieces.

“ That sucks. She’s dead right ? “ It might sound heartless and brash to some but Billy hates it when people sugarcoat stuff to him for no reason and something tells her Cleo isn’t that different when it comes down to it.

“ Yup. Yours too, huh ? “

Billy nods “ Yeah “

“ What happened ? “

“ Cancer. Yours ? “

“ Car accident. “

“ Fuck. “

“ Yes. Fuck. “

Billy turns his head to the side so he’s facing her and Cleo follows suit soon after.

“ That why you come here to break shit ? “ he questions, taking his last sip of beer then following Cleo’s earlier action of breaking the bottle against the pile of trash.

“ I was — so frustrated. With everything. I knew Tina was gonna talk smack when she sees me showing up with you but deliberately bringing up my dead mother to hurt me ? That’s low. “

“ That’s fucked up. “

“ That’s a highschool girl who feels threatened “

Billy lets out a humourless laugh “ It’s not fair though. She doesn’t know what the hell it feels like to lose your mom. You shouldn’t have to deal with her using that to hurt you just because she thinks her pussy is some kind of otherworldly experience that gives her the power to rule this trash pile of a town. For the record, it’s not. “

Cleo snickers and Billy thinks she looks fucking cute when she does it.

“ Can I ask you something ? “ Billy wonders, looking at Cleo expectandly.

“ I guess. “

“ Are you angry ? Because I — I don’t think I have felt anything but anger in so long. I’m so mad at god or the universe of whatever. Whatever is responsible for taking my mom away. My dad — Neil, he’s an absolute asshole. Always has been but mom — mom was good. So why did it happen to her ? It makes no sense and it drives me insane to think about it. It makes me so so furious. “

“ What makes you think I’m not angry ? “

“ You don’t seem angry. “

“ Well I am. I just — life needs to go on, you know. I gotta help dad with the diner and make sure Charlie is happy and healthy. I am angry I just literally do not have the time to dwell on that feeling. “

It makes sense, he think. Back in California life was shit too but he had friends there and stuff to do to take his mind off of things. Hawkins is quiet and empty and boring and his mind gets all the time in the world to think about the sad stuff. The shit that makes him angry.

“ Well look at us sharing sob stories like some kind of dead-moms-club. “ he scoffs but allows a little smile to tug at the corner of his lips which grants him a smile from Cleo in return.

“ Oh shut up, Billy “

And as her laughter echoes through the air and he looks up towards the November sky, he doesn’t feel so angry anymore, at least not for that moment. He’s not happy either but he’s content. And maybe that’s all he can ever ask for. To not feel angry all the time. To get a single moment of relieve. Of lightness. Of ease. Of laughter.

[thunder-the-ranger-wolf]

Self Preservation Level: Zero (Forging a family ch 2)

It wasn't every day you ran into All Might. Izuku was on the way home after a very irritating day that only got worse when a villain tried to use him as a hiding place. How does that even work?!

He'd been terrified. Not too long ago, some former friends told him to wish for a Quirk in his next life and now it looked like he might get the chance to do that.

A whoosh of air was the last thing Izuku felt before he blacked out, and he hoped desperately that it meant help would arrive.

Forging a Family

"Young man!" A voice that was used to being loud was currently hissing in his ear, and it was enough to break through his thoughts.

If not that, then the fact that someone is slapping him awake.

"Five more minutes, Oji-san. School is over. I get a nap."

"School is indeed over, young man, but this is not the place to nap."

Izuku scrambled blindly to his feet, lurching forward as he tried to steady himself.

"All Might!" He realizes breathlessly. "You're-."

"In the middle of capturing a villain, my boy, for which you have my sincerest apologies. I should have caught this man long before he got to you."

"Wait, no, why apologize?!" Izuku blurted out. "I'm sure you did everything you could!"

"You'd certainly think so, but if you remember anything else, remember that even heroes make mistakes."

"I can't imagine that. You're Number 1! The Symbol of Peace!"

All Might shot him a warm yet amused look.

"My boy, if we had the time I would tell you exactly what I think of hero rankings. But I must get this villain to the police."

All Might was preparing to take off but Izuku had questions! So many questions…

At the last minute, he grabbed onto the hero's shirt and was yanked high into the air by the single greatest leap he'd ever seen.

And it was terrifying. He barely managed to keep his mouth shut, gritting his teeth for fear of choking, but internally he was screaming his head off.

They landed on a roof, All Might having plucked Izuku from his lower side in midair and held him close as one would a baby.

Now, Izuku staggered upright after tumbling head over heels from such an abrupt landing.

"Young man," All Might ground out lowly. "That was dangerous, and it is inappropriate to invade one's personal space. You have a reason for doing so, yes?"

Izuku bobbed his head, struggling to catch his breath.

"Can I be a hero without a Quirk?" He blurted out.

All Might stood frozen at the question and Izuku knew that somehow, he'd gone too far.

Maybe it was because he'd grabbed the man out of nowhere. Maybe it was because he'd impeded All Might's plans for such a stupid, stupid question. Of course you couldn't be a hero without a Quirk, why would you bother-?!

"I should tell you no." All Might began slowly. "I should tell you that there is no making a way in this world without something to back you up. You would have to prove yourself a million times over for even a chance at what others have… but I will not tell you that. Because I am out of time, and have no idea what to say other than I see you going very far in life no matter what you do."

Smoke billowed from the taller man's form as he said those last words. All Might hunched over as he seemed to shrink in on himself, and then collapsed to the ground, coughing viciously.

Izuku narrowed his eyes. All Might was sick?

Izuku only ever heard that terrible cough from one person in his life. His uncle's partner looked American but spoke like he grew up in Japan. He was the oldest of his friend group, and whenever he came over to visit Inko and Izuku, he was fed a variety of strange dishes that Izuku's mother wouldn't normally cook.

"Oji-san…" Izuku whispered to the crumpled man before him. "What happened to you?"

Yagi Toshinori looked miserable as he attempted to respond.

"Nevermind." Izuku determined. "You're coughing up blood. Kaa-san said you shouldn't be doing that even with your stomach issues. Do you have your medicine with you?"

Yagi dipped his head in a nod.

"Pocket below the sludge bottles." He rasped. "I'll take them later."

"You should have something now. You can't say you aren't in pain, after what just happened."

"Transforming takes a lot out of me, yes, but I'm old and injured. Meds won't help me any more than if I took them later."

"You're not that much older than Naoki-ojisan." Izuku snorted. "But if you insist, can I at least escort you to the police station?"

"If you must, my boy."

Izuku wasn't sure how he missed something as obvious as Yagi being All Might. They spoke the same, they were the same ridiculous height, they both had blond hair and eerie blue eyes… the only conclusion he could come to was that he was a fool.

"No one knows what to look for." Yagi offered quietly as if reading his thoughts.

"So when you said you were a secretary at a Hero Agency…"

"Yes, I am my own secretary. It seems weird when I say it aloud, but I like having some measure of control over my life."

"So, why keep being a hero if you know you're injured?"

"Because I am a hypocrite, dear boy. Your mother has insisted that one must know their limits. This is what happens when you surpass those limits and keep going. Eventually, I will be forced into retirement, if I make it that long.”

“Of course you will, Yagi-san.” Izuku said, stopping in front of the older man so that they stared at each other. “You’re one of the smartest men I know. And All Might is an amazing hero. He’s been Number 1 for so long, is it any wonder he would think of retiring?”

“You are a smart one, my boy. Your mother raised you well.”

Izuku dipped his head in acknowledgment and they walked in peace for a while longer.

It wasn’t long enough, though. Up ahead was a large crowd. From the shouting that Izuku could make out and the number of heroes on the scene, someone was in trouble.

Forging a Family

"I got your number from your sister so please don't hang up yet."

"Five minutes."

"I messed up and I need you to yell at me."

"What?"

"You heard me the first time." Yagi ground out.

"Hold on. Have you talked to Naoki about this? Please don't tell me I'm the first person you called-!"

"He's working, I left a voicemail. On top of which I'll see him later today. What kind of fool do you think I am?"

"The last time you had a problem he could have solved you two didn't talk for weeks."

"Because he was being an asshole and invading my privacy. There's a difference."

"There's a… Okay. There's no time to unpack any of that so moving the fuck on."

"So I ran into your nephew today-."

"Huh. I haven't contacted Inko this week at all. How are they?"

"Good, fine. Inko seems happy."

"Well that's always a goal. But you ran into Izuku?"

"He was attacked by this pile of sludge that might have been a person-."

"He what?"

"I handled it… sort of. I captured the villain, Izuku woke up, that would have been that but I just knew something was up with him so I wanted to make sure he got home alright. I go to leave and this little shit decides to grab me at the last minute. I ended up sticking around to make sure he was okay but somehow the sludge pile escapes and kidnaps someone else. One of his classmates. So this kid… God, Shou, this fuckin kid… he tracked the sludge to a crowd that wasn't doing a damn thing and fired the first shot!"

"Wait a minute, he did what?! We're there other heroes on the scene?"

"Newcomers who couldn't think their way out of a paper bag, apparently!" Toshi snarled. "Just standing there and literally letting a youngster die!"

"Not everyone is quick to react. But go on, how'd he do it?"

"Threw his bag at the villain's face and scraped the boy out when All Might did a Detroit Smash."

"All Might did a-? Is he crazy?!"

"No, no. He times the attack perfectly. The kid knew what he was doing and All Might saw an opportunity and went for it. The villain was captured a second time, the kid actually got to go home."

"So what's the problem?"

"His mother recognized me. Didn't say anything, but she knew. And before that…"

"Yes?"

"I-considered-giving-him-my-quirk!"

"Repeat that?"

"I almost told the boy everything right then and there."

"Why?"

"He was so brave, my friend! He acted when no one else was able to! And before, on the way to the police station, he asked if he could be a hero."

Aizawa laughed, a short bark of a thing.

"Literally only that kid would ask his hero without knowing exactly what that means… gods above. But how does that lead to the boy getting your power?"

"I almost told him everything."

"But?"

"I remembered this is Inko's boy. She would flay me alive and have me for dinner if I tried such a thing!"

"Of course."

“So I kept my mouth shut but I seriously considered it. Which is why I need you to yell at me.”

Forging a Family

Naoki was not a happy camper when he got home from work. Nowadays it seemed like he rarely ever was. He never smiled, his jokes fell flat with most crowds, and he had this… knowing air about him. Like he could tell your deepest secrets from a single look. Granted, that wasn't far from his actual Quirk but he required contact to activate it. And it was foresight, not hindsight. The only secrets he would know are the ones that come back to bite you. And even then, he's not one to go looking. That was a lesson he's learned many times over, once at the cost of his livelihood.

It was taking everything he had not to scream as Yagi described the Sludge Incident.

“Just so we’re straight-.”

“We’re not.” Yagi snickered.

“This is no time for jokes! Some days I still can't believe I married such a dork.”

“Well, it certainly wasn’t for my looks.” Yagi deadpanned. “Perhaps for our mutual love of all things All Might.”

"Yagi, what happened out there?!"

"I wasn't on the scene, but I hear there were quite a few heroes trying to determine the best course of action while a young man was held hostage and slowly suffocating."

"They likely did their best. Not everyone can afford to be as quick and reckless."

"You think your former boss reckless?"

"Undoubtedly, but in this case it proved effective. So All Might swooped in and saved the day once more but I'm not seeing a problem."

"Your nephew has seen All Might's civilian form."

Naoki groaned, a deep and frustrated thing that had Toshinori laughing into his arm.

"You seem so burdened by the world's events that it's a winder you get any sleep."

"Some days, I wonder myself. You cannot honestly believe that this is anywhere near alright."

"Midoriya-san knew me already, and though I offered to stick around, she assured me it wasn't necessary. It's not like I intended to reveal such truths to the boy."

"And yet."

"Indeed… Izuku is a smart boy, and he's already got secrets of his own. If anyone had to figure out All Might's civilian form, I'm glad it was him."

"But we are definitely talking to Inko."

"Oh yes, absolutely. If only to make sure she doesn't chop my head off next she sees me."

[heavenzfiend]

Fanfic: Gifts from Lord Shigezane (Fujibayashi Genya x MC)- SLBP

Read on AO3

Word count: ~3700

Warning: LEMON! food kink, bondage, feathers, tittyfuck, etc.

Summary: When presented with small gifts from Lord Shigezane upon his return from Date clan’s falconry session, MC is about to find out what a creative man her lover is.

Author’s Note: I feel like I went overboard with this one and was thoroughly embarrassed while writing *runs and hides.* I hope you enjoy Genya and MC’s crazy sexcapades!

MC put weight on one foot and then another while waiting by the castle gates for the Date figureheads and their entourage to return from their falconry session. MC glanced at Genya who was leaning against the wall, eyes closed and head bobbing every once in a while.

Was he seriously sleeping while standing up right now?

“Gen! Don’t fall asleep on me!” she playfully slapped his arm and then shook his arm with both hands in a comedic, exaggerated attempt to rouse the ever-tired ninja.

“Yeah yeah… I don’t know why they made me come all the way here… pwaghhhh,” he gave a loud yawn, his eyes still half-closed.

Just then, their ears picked up on a distant chorus of hooves sauntering against the dirt path.

“I see them!” MC’s face brightened while squeezing his arm in excitement.

“Finally,” he commented, the affectionate pet on top of her head contrasting the dull tone of his voice.

The pointed tops of straw hats dipped in tune with the horses, revealing Masamune, Kojuro, and Shigezane leading the crew in their majestic gear of bow and arrow and a fierce, caged falcon. The trio slowed as they approached the waiting pair, allowing their retainers to pass by as they mounted down.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, doll!” Shigezane gave a wide smile. “I only managed to land two small rabbits today but Masamune is a much better falconer than I am! You should’ve seen him in action.”

“Oh, that’s great milords!” MC beamed at all three of them, earning a shy blush and a look away from Masamune.

“So, why did you want us to come here anyways?” Genya cut in, clearly uninterested in the topic. The ever-cheery lord of Omori produced an elaborate lacquer box, tied securely with a decorative hemp rope and topped with a single falcon feather. He pressed the box into the confused MC’s hands.

“We had leftover zunda mochi from the outing and wanted to share with you guys. Have you tried zunda mochi yet, MC?”

“No, milord. I heard that it’s popular here?”

“You heard right. Well, we have an excellent cook at our castle who makes the best ones so I figured this will be a good opportunity for you to try some. Here, I found this falcon feather too and I’m sure you’ll find a good use for it.”

“Thank you for your consideration, Lord Shigezane,” MC gratefully tucked the box to her chest. She wasn’t very knowledgeable about desserts in general, being a ninja, much less tried a specialty dessert of Oshu. Genya’s eyes swept over the contents of the gift and the corner of his mouth twitched inconspicuously. He looked up at Shigezane who happened to be looking back at him, no verbal words exchanged between the two but each holding the other’s gaze for some reason.

“There will be a feast tonight in celebration of the successful hunt.” Kojuro prompted while addressing the couple, pausing to give an opportunity for his liege lord to continue.

“You two can join us if you want, but I won’t force you,” Masamune offered an open invitation.

“Thanks Masamune, but I’ll pass. I’ve got everything I want to eat right here.” He had a cheeky grin plastered to his face as he pointed his chin in MC’s direction. Shigezane was thoroughly intrigued to say the least and Kojuro was red with fury at his lack of respect for their liege lord, especially in a place where others could overhear, while Masamune was red for a whole different reason.

MC wondered if Genya had a special love for zunda mochi, if that’s all he wanted to eat. She cocked her head to give a curious look to her lover while the amused ninja took her hand and whisked her away from the other men.

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

As soon as they got situated at home, MC plucked the feather from the intricate tie, twirled it around in the air a few times before putting it on the floor, attention shifting to the box.

“I wonder how zunda mochi tastes like!” she untied and opened the lacquer box with a childlike giddiness swimming in her shining eyes. Her eyes widened at the sight of food she’s never laid eyes on before— the heaping mound of vibrant green, mashed soybeans smothering the white rice cake underneath.

Genya wrapped his arms around her from behind, planting a kiss on her temples before peering over her head at the container. “Try it,” he suggested, sliding around to face her. MC gingerly took a piece between her fingers and popped it into her mouth. The subtle sweetness on her tongue instantly spread throughout her mouth, the hint of soybean flavor hitting her nose more profoundly the more she chewed the mochi. In short, it was delicious.

“Ah, Gen, no wonder you like this stuff! It’s so good!” MC said while looking at her sticky fingers.

Before she registered what was happening, Genya took her hand and lifted it to his mouth. “Who said anything about liking it?” Without breaking eye contact, his pink tongue slowly ran along from her knuckle all the way to the tip of her index finger, lapping up the sweet residue from her thumb and index finger before fully sucking on her fingertip.

“Mmm! Gen…” MC’s eyes glazed over as all heat rushed to her face. His ministrations were nothing short of erotic but his usual actions reeked of sexual confidence that she wasn’t sure if she was reading too into things now due to certain needs of hers. She had to regain control of the situation somehow. Releasing a small cough while tugging back her hand, she said, “We only have a container of zunda mochi, are you sure this is enough for you?”

“Don’t worry, you’re my main course.” Surely that can’t be anything but pure seduction? Seeing the hesitation clouded with lust in her eyes, he asked, “Do you trust me?”

“Of course, silly. You already know,” she answered with zero qualms, her big, honest eyes warming his entire being. He responded with a laugh.

“Aaa, I do know but I had to double check, you see,” his eyes sparkled with mischief as he guided her hands to her back, deftly tying her wrists together. She gasped in shock and struggled against the binds, twisting her neck to look at what was restricting her— it was the rope that held the lacquer box intact! When had he even taken that? MC certainly didn’t see it. What a sneaky ninja he is! MC had to mentally shake her head at her own naivety and the ridiculousness of her thoughts.

“Gen, what is this? Why did you tie me up?” MC struggled against the binds once more, just in case, but did she really expect to escape from the handiwork of a master ninja?

“Shh… I thought you trusted me?” his crimson eyes searched hers.

“I do! But-“

“I’m so hungry you see…” he cut her off, he ran a thumb along her jawline, sending the skin tingling where he touched. He then ran his finger across her lips, gently pushing into her parted lips, before going straight down to her neck and then her collarbones, gliding against the robes ever so slightly. In the meantime, his other hand started untying her obi that secured her clothing, the bow in the back unraveling.

The breath hitched on her throat as he slowly parted her robes, almost seeming to enjoy the way she still struggled against the binds a bit. MC didn’t know what to do, since her body didn’t allow her to meekly stand still, meanwhile struggling led to a faster exposure of skin due to the friction. Gradually yet inevitably, her yellow robes fell down from her shoulders, tangling with the intricate binding of her wrists.

With the sudden exposure to the cold air, both of her nipples perked up. MC shifted on her knees, turning pointedly around in an attempt to calm her racing heart before facing her sneaky ninja. However, he wouldn’t allow her shying away, stepping around to face her again.

“If you don’t like what I’m doing, you can always tell me, y’know. I wouldn’t ever hurt you.” MC gave a nod with her eyes still downcast. Genya pressed a kiss to her forehead, cradling her cheeks in his palm as if she was a delicate, porcelain doll, the gentle gesture contrasting blatantly with the ropes that bound her. However, upon a more level-headed analysis, she discovered that the binds were not in any way digging into her skin and was simply for restriction but not pain-inducing of any sorts. Her body relaxed with the revelation that she should simply trust in her loving boyfriend like she said she did.

“Sorry, Gen, for making you think that I’m frightened of you. I don’t mind whatever you do to me. I want you and I trust you,” she declared with firm resolve both to him and herself.

“Pwahahahha,” Genya let out a boisterous laugh out of nowhere which had MC backtracking her words to find the source of amusement. Her brows knit in concern as she suddenly couldn’t remember the fine details of what just came out of her mouth. “I’m beyond happy you said that but don’t go crying, trying to back out of what you just said because I’m going to take you up on that offer of doing whatever I want with you now.” The amused smirk was back on his face and MC swallowed. Was this all part of his master plan? Just what did she get herself into?

“First things first,” he headed to where she had left the food and brought over the ornate box. Picking up a zunda mochi with his fingers, he prodded and squished it in between his fingers for a while. MC tried to push back the heat creeping up her face, repeating the mantra of ‘it’s just food, it’s just food’ over and over again in her head.

“I’m hungry but I know something better that zunda can sit on. Just as soft and squishy too.” Did he mean…? No, it couldn’t be. He scooped a generous dollop of zunda on his fingers and came straight for her. Eyes wide in disbelief, she held her breath as he smeared the mashed beans all over her breasts.

“Ack! W-what are you doing?! Ewww!” MC exclaimed in horror as she looked down at the green substance spread on her breasts.

“Can’t you see? I’m making my own zunda mochi,” he smirked and added, “but I’m not quite done yet.” He scraped off every available mashed soybeans from atop the rice cakes and brought it to the valley between her breasts. The feeling of lukewarm zunda touching her skin made her posture go rigid.

“This looks disgusting,” MC frowned but Genya seemed to be enjoying himself.

“No, I think it’s-“ he flicked his tongue out to taste the food from her breast and said, “-delicious, actually. So bouncy.” He squished her breasts with his fingers, mimicking the way he played with the mochi earlier. Then he put his entire mouth on the same spot on top of her breasts and after licking off all the zunda, nibbled on her skin.

“Ahhhh, don’t actually eat me, you, you-!” she was so shocked that no words of insult properly formed. The area stung a bit and she looked down to see the skin irritated in crimson.

“Don’t be so mad, pretty girl. It’s not that bad, is it?” When she responded to the question with a fierce glare, he said, “I know, I bet you’re hungry too, eh?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her and took off his robes in a flash, his hardness half-mast.

He pressed his warm erection against the valley of her breasts in a languid motion, joining in on the food-on-skin contact. The sticky, wet substance covered his cock fully and he gathered her breasts together to encompass it as he thrusted up and down her breasts.

Never in MC’s wildest dreams would she have imagined anyone doing this. MC wasn’t the most well-endowed in the female anatomy department but Gen, being a practical man, sure was making full use of all that she offered. The head of his cock peeked in and out of the top of her smooshed mounds, almost reaching her mouth and MC had never felt more lewd in her entire life.

After few minutes of his nonstop thrusts, a good portion of zunda transferred from the surface of her skin to his. His privates did not look appetizing, to say the least. How was he going to clean that up? MC’s eyes shot up to his face. Oh, wait… did he expect her to-

“Say ah~” He smiled innocently—well as innocently as someone can be while pushing their sticky-food-covered cock at someone’s mouth while also being a ninja with no sexual shame.

“Gen-“ As soon as MC opened her mouth to say his name, Genya pushed his messy length into it. “Mmmmh!” MC was not expecting him to suddenly put it in but thankfully he didn’t jam it all the way to her throat and rather stayed still to give her time to breathe through her nose instead of assaulting her orifice. It felt like she was completely at his mercy, kneeling on her knees with hands tied to her back and body slightly leaning forward in an awkward position to maintain balance.

“Make sure to lick me thoroughly. You wouldn't want to get any inside of you," He requested. Fine, he wanted thorough? She will show him what she’s learned during their lovemaking lessons he seems to frequently launch them into.

She put on a show of overly loud moaning noises just to poke fun at him as she licked and swallowed the zunda from around his warm appendage. Damn, she was trying to be obnoxious on purpose but the zunda really was good so she ended up enthusiastically sucking everything in earnest with “mm’s” and “ahh’s” here and there. She made sure to give ample attention to his balls too since they had their share of green mixture smeared as well. She was granted with an uncontainable moan from a sound emitted from his throat, deep within—a purely manly noise that let her know she was improving with more practice from this lecher.

It was difficult not having access to her hands as she felt some saliva gather at the corner of her mouth and as her mouth wasn’t able to fully close at the moment, she had to endure the embarrassment of feeling it slide down her chin, threatening to drip completely down.

Before that happened though, Genya eased himself out of her mouth with a soft pop and swooped down to land kisses on her chin, following the trail back up to her lips, capturing her mouth fully. “Hold on, let’s not waste food here,” he said, as he ate the remainder of the mashed beans from her chest before it crusted on her body. He finally stepped away from her.

MC doesn’t think she can ever view zunda mochi in quite the same way again.

“Gen, that… that was quite an experience. I’m still not sure how I feel about it. Anyways, you can unhand me now.” MC expectedly looked behind her at the intricate ties around her wrists.

“Nuh uh, you’re not getting off that easily,” Genya wagged his forefinger at her as he went back to the other side of the room. “Aha, there you are.” He picked up the large falcon feather from the floor where it was earlier discarded.

“What? We’re not done?” MC felt sweat forming on the back of her neck. Oh dear.

“No way, that was just the appetizer.” He stepped in front of her with the intimidating black and grey quill as if he were some fancy aristocrat, pinky up for the added effect.

“W-what are you going to-“ he cut her off yet again as he brought the feather to her face, outlining the edges of her features delicately. Her stomach clenched up immediately and the words refused to leave her throat. The feather was as big as his hand but incredibly soft.

He ran the feather across her collarbones, from left to right and back left. MC was quite a ticklish person in general and this level of torture was too much for her. As he dragged the softness down her stomach, her entire body jerked, shoving her breasts forward in his direction.

Just when she thought things couldn’t get any weirder than being smothered in food, here she was being teased with a giant feather. What a day.

“Why must you always tease me?” she pouted.

“Ah, but isn’t that the whole point of this?” he looked like he was having so much fun that she couldn’t remain annoyed for long.

Flick. Flick. Flick. He was unyielding in his avian-assisted conquest.

He tickled her under her breasts, causing her back to arch up. Soon MC was a wriggling and squirming mess, toes permanently curled in anticipation and nerves. He moved it in slow circles around the circumference of her breasts and she struggled against the bonds, wiggling to get the feather to touch her nipples, they never did, pointedly avoiding them altogether.

MC simultaneously cursed and thanked whatever godforsaken bird lost its feather for this pleasure-slash-torture she was experiencing in the hands of her beautiful tormentor. The soft touches of his evoked a rush of over-heightened nerves shooting down her whole body, flood of liquid passion rushing to her belly as a result.

Her head lolled back, eyes landing on the slightly frayed ends of the rope, wondering when she could escape these blasted binds.

The feather dipped low to circle her navel and MC’s teeth clenched with her tightening the muscles of her stomach and thighs, all the hairs on her body standing up on her prickled skin.

“Gen… Gen…” his name kept escaping her for some reason. She needed something now, blast him.

“What is it?” He was toying with her now, surely. MC gave a huff in frustration but refused to say more. “You’re quite eager, aren’t you?” He dropped the feather and ghosted her dark curls with his skilled hand.

“Do it.” MC ground out. She was in a hurry but he seemed to be made of time, definition of patience incarnate.

“I need you to beg.” MC squeezed her eyes shut, vexed out of her mind. What an absolute pervert.

“Gen, can you just…?” She squirmed a bit.

“There’s a certain word I’m looking for here.” Oh.

“...Please. Pretty please?” His smile widened as he suddenly pushed two fingers into her dripping heat. An incoherent noise escaped her as he began to pump his fingers in and out of her, vigorously. His other, less-dominant hand reached around to effectively unbind her in seconds, which lead to MC plunging her free hands into his faintly wavy hair. Wrists slightly throbbing, MC firmly dug her fingertips into his scalp and grasped handfuls of his coppery-silver hair, a part of her hoping that it hurt a bit in retaliation.

Not a modicum of discomfort showing on his face, his hands slowed down as she felt so close to achieving her high that she instinctively exclaimed, “Fujibayashi Genya, I swear, if you don’t fuck me right now-“

“My dear, I thought you’d never ask.” He pushed her shoulders down unceremoniously so she sprawled on her back on top of her disheveled robes without a hint of grace. Immediately, his cock plunged into her in a smooth, effortless motion as a result of MC being as wet as humanly possible, or so she thought. In desperation to do something, she squeezed her inner walls while he was inside. He definitely felt that, if his growing smirk was any indication. He unleashed his passion through the powerful rhythm while she matched his thrusts halfway, trying to allow him to hit deeper, to control the aim more to near her frontal walls.

“Ahhhhh, Gen! I’m- I’m-” The dam of her pent up sexual frustration broke as a tidal wave of juices rushed out, the muscles of her whole body twitching and clenching.

“Good girl, you did well.” He grunted and continued to pound into her heat. As soon as she felt like it was a bit too sensitive for such vigorous action, he spurted inside of her, holding her down by the forceful grip on her hips to accept all that he had to give. He stayed inside her for as long as possible, wanting as much of his seeds to remain with her. When he slid out, they remained connected by a single thread of cum connecting his softening cock and her opening, despite some liquid dribbling out of her.

Watching his seeds spill out of her and the line of cum clinging on for dear life to both of them, he wondered if she would get pregnant, if not already so. He supposed he should be worried about the possibility of her getting with child, but truth be told he didn’t care. More so, he actually basked in the joy he felt from imagining a family he could create with his Mitsuba queen. Other ninjas would’ve done anything to avoid future romantic entanglements with another person but he wasn’t a traditional ninja anyways. Fujibayashi Genya played by no one’s rule but his own.

He scooped her up in his arms bridal-style and placed her on a futon that he kicked open. Lying down next to her, he fondly brushed the hair on her face with his thumb as he pressed gentle kisses on her wrists in apology.

“Gen, shouldn’t we wash?”

“Mm, we can do it tomorrow.” MC wanted to disagree, thinking back on the stickiness from earlier, but her eyes were slowly closing so she let him indulge her, letting sleep take her.

Genya rested a thin blanket over MC’s frame, cuddling her against his chest as he thought he ought to thank Shigezane the next time he sees the young lord.

Tagging: I’ll include people who commented on my other Gen story since I think you guys will like this too?  @rubyleeray @pseudofaux @kawa-akarin @dani677 @julias1993 @wasabilove82 @sandrinhaap @masamunbae @foreversunshine-love @all-my-cuffs-have-buttons

[leo6102]

Q&A 1

Where were you two hours ago? I was in my bed reading a book

Has anyone ever cried in your arms? My best friend when she told me her grandfather died

How many of your friends have cried in front of you? Probably 3-4

And how many of your friends have seen you cry? I believe all of my friends

How would you react if a doctor told you that you would be infertile? I would be very sad and I would probably cry for a long time. But I would try to adopt.

What was the last thing you randomly decided to buy, on the spur of moment? I think it was a lip balm

Do you get along with your best friend’s parents? I think they like me but I’m still shy in front of them.

What do you think of your best friend’s ex? I don’t now him actually but what I heard of him is, that he was kind and treated my best friend good.

What’s the kindest thing a stranger has ever done for you? My mom was on the way to the doctor because I was really sick and a guy gave me a Flower.

Do you know where the person you miss is at the moment? Probably at home, chilling with family and friends.

What if you found out the person you like was already taken? Actually happened some months ago. I was a bit hurt but just accepted it and tried to hide it somehow.

What’s the closest thing to you that’s blue? I’m wearing a blue jacket and a blue turtleneck.

Do you like Shopping in your home town, or do you prefer to shop somewhere else? I don’t like shopping at all so I hardly go out shopping. I usually shop online.

Are there any foods you love but can’t eat, for any reason? Yes! I’m not allowed to eat anything that includes gluten or corn in general. I still eat like small amounts of it. But it’s really hard to quit eating bread or cookies and stuff.

Are there any unusual food combinations that you enjoy? When I was six years old I used to eat carrots with Nutella.

Are you hiding something from someone at the moment? Yes. I’m hiding a lot of things from someone.

Who was the last person you felt like you had to apologize to? A person asked me out to go on a date and I said yes, even though I don’t want to go out with this person. So next time when I see the person I have to apologize for basically lying and rejecting this person.

How many people of the opposite sex have you said ‘I love you’ to? Zero

What was the first thing you thought about when you woke up this morning? Probably what time it is.

Who was the last person you talked to whose name started with the letter ‘C’? My best friend <3

Do you think that the person you miss the most, misses you too? I don’t think so. We barely know each other, to be honest.

When it comes to the opposite sex, do you have a certain type that you go for? Basically yes. I think we all have a certain type that we go for.

The person you fell the hardest for says they never felt anything for you. What do you say? I would be too shocked to say anything.

What do you think of the music your parents listen to? It’s the same music I listen to, so I like it.

Do you 100% trust the last person you had a serious conversation with? I should trust this person but I think it’s like an 83%.

In a relationship, how long would you wait before saying ‘I love you’? I’m a very shy and insecure person, so it takes me a lot of time trusting someone 100% and before I don’t trust a person 100% I won’t say ‘I love you’. Probably not less than 6-12 months.

Do you think you are good enough for he person you love? I don’t love this person, it’s more like a crush. But I actually don’t think I’m good enough.

Who was the last person to tell you that they find you attractive? Sadly no one ever told me they find me attractive.

What’s the worst hairstyle you have ever had? When I was 4 I had a fringe and a bob.

Has anyone ever called you ‘stunning’? Nope

Do you believe people easily? Yes. And that’s one of my bad characteristics.

Write the title of the last song you listened to, backwards. sdneirf lliw eb sdneirf

This time last year, what was your relationship status? Single like a Pringle

What are your plans for the weekend? It’s already Sunday but me and my dad wanted to visit the cinema

What would your name be with only the first three letters? Leo

Who was the last person you talked to before you went to sleep last night? My mummy :)

Do you want to see someone right now? Definitely!

Where was the last place you fell asleep other then your bed? Most likely my sofa.

Do you think you can last in a relationship for 3 months? I have never been in a relationship but it’s not a big deal for me to spent a long time with a person I love.

Do you think someone is thinking about you right now? I think yes.

How have you felt today? So far I felt pretty good. :)

Where did you get the pants you are wearing? From a shop called Takko but they are ripped so I wouldn’t buy them again.

Does it take a lot of you to cry? Actually yes. Like when something embarrassing happens to me in front of a big group and I’m under pressure and stuff, I cry very easily. Also when friends of mine cry I have to cry immediately. Doesn’t matter if it’s because they are sad or hurt or something like that. But when I read or see something sad I normally don’t cry.

Ever receive a really long apology? Never..

Do you have trust issues? I’m actually not sure. I commit to a lot of things to a lot of people I barely know, but at the same time I need a lot of time to trust someone to open up and to show my feelings. As I said I need a lot of time to say ‘I love you’.

Do you have a best friend to lean on? I always thought I would have a best friend to lean on but if I really think about it, I actually don’t have one.

Let me guess, your last income call was from the opposite sex? No it wasn’t.

Anything your are looking forward to? Not really.

Do you usually tell people when they hurt their feelings? I probably should, but I don’t do it. The last time I told someone that they hurt my feelings, I got in even more trouble.

Is there a song that every time you hear it, you think of someone? Yep and it’s not only one song :)

What’s on your mind? A lot of things are in my mind right now..

How many times did you eat today? 3 times

The first thing you do in the morning? Listen to the radio

Have you ever had a friend you weren’t into, fall for you? If I don’t misrender my current situation, there is a person who has a crush on me but I don’t have one.

Have you ever received a text message that made you cry? I have :'(

Is it easy for someone to make you smile? Basically yes. I always smile and have to laugh at small things that are actually not funny.

What color are your eyes? Blue/grey/green

How many people of the opposite sex to you fully trust? None

Last thing you touched? Not computer related. The curtains because there was a wasp, which got stuck in there.

What colors are you wearing right now? Blue, white, pink and black

Are you currently in a fight with someone? Not that I know of. Fortunately

Do you look at the keyboard when you type? Sometimes

What are you listening to right now? My brother is watching Netflix and he is talking.

What always makes you feel better when you are upset? Music or a good book. I also like to talk about it with my friends

Last person you gave a hug to? My auntie :)

Tell me about the shirt you are wearing. It’s dark blue, a turtleneck, very stretchy and fits tightly. It’s also tucked into my jeans.

What instant messaging service do you use? WhatsApp

Honestly, if you could go back 8 months and change something, would you? I don’t think I would change something because I am actually happy about everything that happened in the last 8 months.

Do you know what you are wearing tomorrow? Yes! I always plan my outfits the night before.

Do you know anyone who smokes weed? Not that I know of.

What is the relationship between the last person you texted and you? It’s a really good friend of mine :)

Do you miss your past? Not everything but there are some parts I miss a lot.

Is there anybody that you wish you could fix things with. There is more than one person I wish I could fix things with.

How many kids do you want? 1-2.

Does anyone call you baby? No.

If you had one superpower, what would it be? Maybe perform magic.

Have you ever had an Oreo with peanut butter? Never. I actually don’t like peanut butter.

What were you doing at midnight last night? I was asleep.

Were you happy when you woke up today? Pretty much.

Who last slept in your bed? My dad. But it was 8 years ago.

Did you speak to your mother today? 10 minutes ago :)

How many months til your birthday? 9 months.

How many letters in your last name? 5.

When was the last time you were on a city bus? 2-3 weeks ago?

When is the last time you saw grass? 2 second ago.

[food-fantasy-souls]

Full name:

Zero Megyn Rose

Age: 18

Height: 6′0"

Race:

Human

Occupation: Master Attendant

Restaurant level:

0(doesn’t own a restaurant yet)

Main Food soul team currently: Caviar

Main cooking skills: Precise seasoning, BBQ Feast, Blade Chop, Melt & Mold

Favorite kinds of food to eat: deserts, meat meals, entres

Motto(s): “Even if it seems impossible to accept and I don’t understand it, I must accept my circumstances and inability to reverse it, so I must learn to live with it.”

Personality:

Zero is a fairly nervous girl, often remaining silent so she doesn’t say anything that may offend someone. She also has a lot of trouble asking for things or even asking someone a question in general cause her nerves get the better of her and she often thinks she’d be bugging the person by asking.

However, she does a complete 180 when around those she’s comfortable with, she speaks freely without feeling like she’s drowning or going to panic. She tends to stick to herself and Caviar as she often feels drained when interacting with people too much and sometimes wants to hide in her bed so she can recharge.

She’s a highly creative person, and often writes stories she’s come up with in her free time. Her mood can shift extremely quickly as her mind is very quick to switch trains of thoughts on a moment’s notice. She’s also very jumpy and doesn’t particularly like being suddenly touched on a moments notice.

Food Souls she has:

Caviar Milt Pizza Strawberry Shortcake Pastel De Nata Laba Congree Bonito Rice

Backstory(Will be updated on how she gets other food souls aside from Caviar at some point):

Zero is unique in terms of background, as in she's not from Tierra to begin with. In her world, Tierra was the world in which a mobile game called Food Fantasy took place, a game she was addicted to and spent many hours playing and writing stories set in it. However, like usual to her, while she was playing, her tablet began to flicker, causing her to groan in annoyance and reach for the charging cable, she didn't know what on earth was screwed up in her tablet to cause this but it annoyed her to no end.

However, the tablet emitted a blinding flash and a very loud crackling sound came from it as she yelped in surprise as she shielded her eyes, soon after passing out. When she awoke, she found herself in a forest she recognized, it was from one of her character's stories, stumbling through the foliage, she soon came across the ruins of her character's childhood home, confirming she was where she thought she was.

She was in Tierra, somehow she had been teleported into that world, the version she had been writing no less with her characters.

She shuffled through the ruins, and nearly tripped as she came across the summoning circle burned into the soil beneath her, she was surprised it hadn't faded with time, however as she tried to come close to it, she nearly tripped and stumbled right into the center of the circle. It lit up within moments, frightening her and causing her to dart behind some rubble despite knowing it wasn't calling anyone bad.

Within a minute she heard the circle power down and soft footsteps come from it, she nearly jumped when she heard a soft male voice she somehow recognized call out "Master Attendant?"

She somehow knew who it was despite never hearing his English or Japanese voice, it was Caviar, a food soul currently unreleased in the global version. Despite this, she still called out. "W-Who are you?"

"Master attendant! I am Caviar, may I have your name?" He responded, sounding a little closer than before, and she replied back out of habit. "M-Megan Rose."

She felt her heart rate quicken and quickly amended her statement as she remembered her character of the same name living in Tierra. "Zero Megyn Rose! W-Whoops slipped on t-the first name haha..."

She wanted to cringe at her slip up, but approaching footsteps made her jump before Caviar peeked his head around the corner, asking what was making her so nervous and fearful as she stared up at him.

She gaped up at him before managing to get out she had no idea where she was and she didn't know where to go and she was frightened as a result. He then offered her his hand, saying she needn't worry about anything bad happening after this, as he would know thanks to his right eye and be able to prevent it, after a moment she took his hand, saying a quiet little okay.

Zero and Caviar soon made their way from the ruins of Maikila's childhood, traveling to wherever the wind took them as they didn't know their way around Tierra at all, they fought some fallen angels and got some gold but the two didn't have much as Caviar was fighting alone without healing.

Soon they ended up in the town where Megan's restaurant was, Zero hadn't even noticed the name of the restaurant as she and Caviar stumbled in, finding their way to a table quickly and nearly collapsing in the chairs.

It wasn't long before Brownie came over to get their orders, and he noticed how haggard the two looked as Zero said they'd get the cheapest thing on the menu. He ran back to Megan and told her about the two, prompting her to be the one to carry out their orders to them. After giving them their meals, she pulls up a chair and begins to chat with them, eventually coaxing Zero to tell her about their situation and finding out they were homeless.

Megan made the quick decision to take them in, telling them that they needn't pay for their meals as if they were willing they'd start living with her, shocking the two greatly before Zero croaked out a surprised sure.

It wasn't long before Zero and Caviar got situated in the room above Megan's restaurant, the two both helping out and learning much as they live among Megan and her food souls. Caviar, free-thinking and independent thought much more than before when he was simply traveling with Zero, and Zero, so much about the world she was now living in and how it worked.

It wasn't long before Caviar and Zero grow very close, becoming a couple at some point and coming to where we all see them. Helping Megan out and just living a peaceful life with each other among Megan's food souls.

Heck, Zero has even gotten comfortable to think about summoning more food souls, a thought Caviar is completely supportive of.

Relationships with Food Souls:

Caviar: She and Caviar are very close even before they became a couple. Caviar knows her better than anyone and can feel when her mood suddenly shifts. He is the only one who knows her true first name and calls her by it when they are alone together, he’s also the only one who is able to touch her without startling her.

Megan Blossom: She has a weird (to her) relationship with Megan, considering she technically made Megan. The two are generally good friends, even if Zero has a hard time speaking to Megan. 

Headcanons she is in:

Coming soon!

Fanfics she’s in:

Coming soon!

Other Outfits:

Coming soon!

___________________________

Here’s well, me! A version of me, Mod Zero who somehow ended up in Tierra, and ofc I ship myself with Caviar, he’s my other bae aside from B-52 X3

If it looks choppy around the gloves, that because my friend helped me with her hairstyle, only problem is she doesn’t have the gloves I do so to gimp I was off to edit the two together ^^;;

Thankfully I can get the hairdo, it’s just going to take a while probably XD

This should be the last OC I made for a while, hopefully, though don’t be surprised if I make more food soul ocs. And no my hair is not that long, I’d go freaking crazy if it was, mine’s a bob cut like GS!Megan XD

Update! I’ve changed her hairstyle and expression/eye color cause I finally got a makeup thing that fits her and I can NOW use the hairstyle I wanted to use originally without worry of her looking too much like GS!Megan!