#don’t tell them to ‘exude confidence’ to get a job either: that’s like throwing a glass of water on a wildfire

[josiebelladonna]

my dad is such a putz 

[lukecastellandeservedbetter]

11. Test Flight

a/n: oh man, this one is like, a lot. it’s longer. but y’know. worth it. 

shoutout to @book-lover-like-no-other because it was their sweet comments on the last couple fics that motivated me to write more. 

read the others!: Masterlist 

The group that was heading out- Jason, Piper, Annabeth and Luke -were gathered around the Argo II as Leo bounced around excitedly. “So? You guys ready to see it?” He asked, grinning ear to ear. “You guys are going to love it, I promise.” 

Everyone looked at each other admittedly a little unsure, but agreed nonetheless as Leo led them up to the deck, talking a mile a minute. The group nodded along. 

“Did you catch any of that?” Piper whispered to Jason. 

Jason shrugged. “Something about a turbine?”

Luke suspected they wouldn’t understand what he was saying even if he did speak at a normal speed. 

Leo showed them all the special features, how the ship practically ran itself so they wouldn’t need an actual crew. 

As they headed into the cabin of the ship, Luke squared his shoulders a little, suddenly on high alert, the long hallway bringing back memories of his time at sea. Annabeth glanced at him and raised her eyebrow. “What?” She prodded. 

Luke looked down at her surprised. “Oh. Uh,” He tried to force himself to relax. “I don’t exactly have… calm memories of ships.” He mumbled. 

“Yeah me either,” Annabeth bit out, turning back towards the front, reminding Luke of the time years ago, when he’d kept her, Percy and Tyson prisoner on board. 

As if he could forget. 

Luke sighed and looked around as Leo showed everyone their rooms, each one tapering off into their own to explore until it was only Luke and Leo. 

“You’re gonna love this,” Leo said to him, the way he had to every other person who got to see their room. 

Leo opened his door and stepped inside. “I did something special in here,” He said, pressing a button on the wall under the light switch. . 

A compartment opened up, one of the dummies from camp came out of the wall, and the bed folded up neatly into the wall, creating a space big enough that Luke could swing a sword and not be worried about destroying the wall. 

“But… why?” He asked, looking at Leo. 

Luke hadn’t spent a whole lot of time talking with Leo, except for the one time Chiron tried to get Leo to learn swordplay, and the time Leo asked him questions about how the Princess Andromeda ran with a crew when he learned that Luke had spent a better half of 4 years on a ship. 

Obviously a yacht and a Greek battleship were slightly different, but the size was relatively the same, and it would still take a crew to man. 

“Well, I know Jason asked you specifically to come on the Quest,” Leo explained. “And when we were talking about the Princess Andromeda, I could tell it wasn’t something you liked thinking too much about, but you still did for the good of the crew,” He told him, leaning against the wall. “You train alone a lot, so I figured it’s one of the ways you deal with it all. You just got settled back on dry land, and now we’re throwing you back onto a ship.” 

Luke looked around the room again. “It’s perfect Leo, thank you.” He grinned at him. 

“You’re welcome.” Leo perked up- it wasn’t often he got genuine praise for his creations. “C’mon, we should head back to the deck.” He pushed the button, and the dummy went back into the wall, the compartment closing, and the bed came out soundlessly as the pair headed back to the upper deck. 

Jason, Piper and Annabeth headed down the ship, but Luke stopped Leo. “Hey, have you done a test flight yet?” He asked Leo. 

Leo shook his head. “That was the plan for tonight.” 

“Do you think… do you think we could go to Manhattan?” He asked. “I should see Sally before we go get Percy.” 

Leo thought about it. “Yeah I think we could probably pull that off.” He said slowly. “You wanna go tonight? I got clearance with Chiron for the test flight.” 

Luke nodded. “I really appreciate it, Leo, thank you.” 

“Yeah, no worries,” He grinned. “Meet back here just after curfew.” 

“Sure thing, just don’t get eaten by the Harpies.” Luke warned before heading off the boat. 

-

The test flight was a little rocky, but eventually it smoothed out. Luke gave the address of the apartment building and Leo kept the ship afloat as he found it, typing in a couple codes before nodding to Luke. “So is this the sort of mission you need back up for?” He asked curiously, leaning against the side of the ship as Luke adjusted his sword on his hip. 

He figured it was better safe than sorry at this point. 

He regarded Leo for a moment. “What about the ship?” Luke pointed out. 

“Oh, Festus can handle it for a few minutes.” Leo nodded and looked around the ship. “But I also understand if you want to see Sally by yourself.” 

Leo looked a lot younger than he usually did, smaller almost. It was odd, of course Leo was younger and smaller than Luke, that was obvious. But Leo’s personality was always so big, he attracted attention. He had a particular aura about him, and whether people wanted to or not, there was something that drew other half-bloods to Leo. Maybe it was his reckless abandonment of rules or his faith in his own work that anyone would be jealous of, but he was always so loud and confident that Luke figured he had just adjusted to demigod life better than most. 

Luke understood exuding a smooth confidence in order to hide the rocky edges underneath. 

“It’ll probably be good for Sally to meet the guy who built the ship that’s going to save her son, right?” Luke offered a smile and patted his shoulder. “Let’s go.” 

The light in Leo’s eyes came back a bit and he followed Luke down to the roof. 

Luke tried to remember the way Percy showed him to get to the apartment from the roof. It had been a while even before Luke had gone back to camp since he had needed to escape up to the roof from the tiny apartment. He appreciated them accepting them into their home, but sometimes when Luke was alone in his room, he got claustrophobic. After being trapped in his own head for a year, sometimes no room had enough space for him to breathe. 

He managed to find the ladder and climbed down carefully, showing Leo all the right spots to step before landing on the fire escape soundlessly. Leo was a little less graceful, stumbling a bit and making a rattling sound. Luke winced a little at the sound but helped his companion up and slid up the window, climbing inside to the living room, helping Leo in. 

The living room was almost exactly how he had left it, save for an addition of a picture frame. 

It was a picture of Luke and Percy on his first trip to the cabin roasting marshmallows, Percy in the middle of retelling a ghost story he had heard his mom tell a million times. Luke remembered that trip, it was the first vacation he’d ever been on. 

His stomach squeezed a little and he looked around. The little glass blue bird Luke had gotten as a gift for Sally as a thank you with his first paycheque sat neatly on the coffee table, Percy’s Xbox was collecting dust on the television stand, and he could see Paul’s favourite coffee mug on the end table from, he predicted, this morning. 

There was a sound from around the corner in the hall, and Luke drew his sword, instinctually moving in front of Leo as he got in a ready stance. Leo found a place beside him however, pulling out a hammer from his tool belt. 

Luke would try to convince him to start using a better weapon when they weren’t in imminent danger. 

Quick as a flash, Sally had turned the corner and taken her own protective stance with her shotgun pointed right at Luke’s chest. 

There was a moment they stood there before Luke sheathed his sword. 

“Luke,” Sally said surprised, before lowering the gun and looking at Leo confused, and back to Luke. “What are you doing here?” 

“I wanted to check in on the apartment, and you, and let you know that I think we found him.” Luke explained. 

Sally’s face changed completely- she looked 10 years younger. “Come in then, let’s get you boys some food-” 

“We can’t stay long,” Luke told her softly. “Leo only got clearance for a test flight.” 

Sally looked dismayed and shook her head, crossing her arms. “I swear, you and Percy like getting in trouble.” 

Luke shrugged with a little smile. “It’s in the job description.” He motioned to the young demigod beside him. “This is Leo, he’s the guy that built the ship that’s going to take us to Percy.” 

“It’s very nice to meet you Leo,” Sally smiled warmly. “Can I at least package you boys some cookies?” 

“I will never turn down cookies,” Leo grinned brightly. 

Sally nodded and headed to the kitchen, returning moments later with a rather large bag of cookies. Luke nodded to Leo who shook Sally’s hand. “It was nice to meet you Sally,” Leo said happily and headed back out the window and up the fire escape carefully. 

Sally looked at Luke. “So? How long?” 

“Not too long,” Luke promised. “It’s sort of… a quest. Of sorts.” 

Sally gave Luke the You aren’t telling me everything, are you? Mom look. He sighed. “We have to go to Greece after.” 

“Greece?” She nearly yelled. 

“We aren’t ready for Greece yet!” Luke jumped in quickly before she freaked out. “We’re going to retrieve Percy. I’ll bring him home so you can see him and then we train for a little bit and then off to Greece we go.” He told her. 

“But I’ll get to see Percy before he goes again?” She clarified. 

Luke nodded. “I promise.” 

She nodded slowly. “And how are you holding up?” She asked softly. “With everything?” 

“I think… I think I’m okay.” He mirrored her nodding and fiddled with his sword handle. “I just want to come home and go back to work.” He admitted. 

“I know,” She said quietly. “I really do appreciate this Luke, I know… I know the campers aren’t always forgiving or kind.” 

Luke shrugged. “I know I deserve it.” He said honestly. “There’s not much I can really do about it. I can’t blame them for hating me. I would too.” 

She sighed and got up, giving him a big hug. Luke was taken back a little and hugged her awkwardly. 

“Come home safe, alright? Both of you.” She murmured to him. “I need you two to be safe out there. All of you.” 

“We’ll be safe, don’t worry mom.” 

It slipped out, and Luke went red from embarrassment when Sally pulled out of the hug to look at him quizzically. 

“Sorry, sorry, it just slipped, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s okay,” She said, though she had tears in her eyes. “You’re a part of this family now. I don’t mind.” 

Luke wondered how many times Percy had promised her that he would be safe and wouldn’t make her worry, and how many times he broke it. 

And how many times had it been Luke’s fault?

He took a deep breath and pushed that thought away. There was no sense dwelling on it now. 

Luke nodded, still a little embarrassed and took a step back. “Thanks for the cookies, we’ll see you soon, okay?” 

She nodded and waved goodbye. 

Luke climbed back up to the roof and up to the ship where Leo was eating what looked like his fourth cookie. 

“Ready to rock and roll amigo?” He asked cheerfully. 

Luke couldn’t help but chuckle at Leo’s face, his mouth surrounded by blue crumbs and chocolate. “Yeah I’m good to go, you?” 

“Heck yeah!” He grinned and set the bag of cookies down before running around to bring the ship back into motion. 

Luke looked up at the night sky, at the constellation of Zoe Nightshade, a little lost in thought. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. ‘You owe me nothing,’ he thought. ‘But please. Keep our travels safe. Let me bring him home. I owe him that.’ Luke paused and looked up at the sky. “Please dad.” He murmured out loud. 

He didn’t remember the last time he prayed to Hermes. 

[amaranthprincess21]

As the Curtain Falls

Rating: M Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Pairing: Vil/Reader (Eventually >:3c) Synopsis: As summer approaches, you look for a job on El Capitan: Twisted Wonderland's version of Broadway. Getting into a show is the chance of a lifetime, but as rehearsals go on, the flaws of the show and its production team slowly come to light. The ship you're on is burning and there's no way of backing out. You will have to make the best of things and deal with the drama that comes your way. And here comes Vil, your co-star, making things more complicated as the two of you become closer during rehearsals.

A/N: okay so I need to make some things explicit: 1) Although this going to heavily riff on LND, a lot of experiences that are in this fic are experiences I had while acting and a lot of this fic is honestly just me trying to make sense of some of the weird shit I went through. A bad sequel musical is really just the setting and I doubt any of this stuff actually happened during LND production so don't like, look into too much? I just wanna bitch about acting drama I went through years ago and also make some jokes about LND. I'll most likely talk about those experiences more in author notes so I guess look forward to that? 2) also i'm sorry if you genuinely like LND bc I will be making fun of it a lot. And also Phantom like I'm a fan but I'm def gonna roast it 3) For reals tho, I don't know if this is going to be slow burn or not so alskjdfahsd

----

The moment I stepped into the large rehearsal space, a sense of dread and excitement washed over me. The space looked like a small warehouse more than anything else. Large props or set pieces (I couldn’t tell) were pushed towards the back of the room. One whole wall was full of mirrors. I wasn’t the first one here, thank God. But seeing just how many people were in the room was… not reassuring. Along one wall there was a long table set up and several people were seated behind it. It had to be the investors and the production team. 

Man, I was really in over my head, wasn’t I? My callback would be getting judged by ten people and I was up against so many people. But then again, I should’ve expected this. This wasn’t some school musical: this was the Broadway of Twisted Wonderland. Everything was bigger here and the stakes were higher. I needed to make sure I was perfect. I needed this job. I needed this role. 

A few people were already warming up, stretching on the ground. Okay, let’s be social. After all, these might be my new coworkers. I tried to exude friendliness and confidence as I went over to the group, saying hi and introducing myself, but I just wanted to throw up. More people trickled in and every time the door opened, I found myself looking over. Some joined us in warming up, others went behind the table. 

“So, what’s your background?” a tall redhead woman asked. My head whipped to look at the group to see everyone staring right at me, expectantly.

“Oh, uh, I don’t have much of one, to be honest. I did musical theater in school, but this is my first professional audition,” I told them.

“Really? Congrats on making it to callbacks, then!” someone said. I wasn’t sure if it was genuine or a snide remark. 

“T-Thanks.” Might as well err on the side of niceness. “What’s your guys’ backgrounds?”

“I’ve only ever done ensemble before, so this is my first time being called back for a principal role,” one said. As they all started talking about their backgrounds, the door opened again and I instinctively looked. I had to do a double take as Vil walked in, joining the others behind the table. 

“Am I seeing that right?!” the brunette next to me demanded, elbowing me. “Is that Vil Schoenheit?!”

“That, or we’re having the same hallucination,” I told her. It wasn’t like I was friends with him or anything, but I didn’t know he liked musical theater. I thought he was just a model with some TV guest star credits. But then again, I didn’t know him. We just saw each other during prefect meetings with Headmaster Crowley. But I think Jack mentioned one time he was wealthy. Maybe he’s investing in the show? I mean, it’s that or he’s a part of the production team.

“Well, this just got way more interesting,” she commented. I glanced back over to the table. Vil seemed deep in conversation with the other auditioners. Yeah, interesting seemed like a good fit. An older man with a bright teal tie stood up from behind the table and clapped his hands. All conversation died and we all looked at him.

“Welcome to the callbacks for Romance is Immortal. You’ve all done well to make it this far. But sadly, only a few of you will make it into the cast,” he said. Way to pile the pressure on. “We’ll start with the sides and song we emailed you. We’ll call you in as small groups. The holding room is through that door.” He pointed and wordlessly, a few actors got up and made their way over. 

Okay, this was happening. This was really happening. The callback was starting. The brunette helped me to my feet and as I walked to the holding, I stole another glance at the panel. Vil’s sharp amethyst eyes caught mine. He gave me a small nod. This was weird. This was so weird. To think Vil would be judging my audition was a strange one. Would things stay this weird if I got the role? Would it be weirder if I didn’t? 

The holding room was fairly spacious and I found a spot by the water cooler. One of the auditioners was at the door, calling a few names already. The auditioner and actors left and the door shut behind them. Quiet conversation started up, filling the room. I pulled my phone out of my bag and saw a few texts from Ace and Deuce, telling me to break a leg. Those poor guys. I’d dragged them along on this journey and sang so much in our hotel room that Ace left to get noise cancelling headphones at one point. It wasn’t the most reassuring thing, even if he told me he just got them because he couldn’t hear his video game audio. But I knew he wasn’t really into musical theater. Deuce wasn’t either, but his mom loved musicals so he at least was willing to try and sing opposite me for prepping this callback piece. That was awkward. I never want to act like we have sexual tension ever, ever again.

I texted them back, thanking them and asking how sightseeing was going. I opened Magicam to see if they posted anything. They hadn’t put anything up yet, but Vil did. He had some vague things on his story. Showing he clearly wasn’t at Night Raven College, getting a smoothie this morning, basic things like that. I started scrolling through his profile, wondering if I’d find any past work of his on there. Mostly it was just selfies and modeling pictures. He really was pretty. Beautiful, even. Unfairly so. A notification popped up on my phone; a text message from Deuce, saying they were at an observation tower taking in the views. I really wish I could’ve seen that with them, but I had a job to get. Maybe if I got this role and got a place here, I could go sometime.

I waited and waited and waited for what felt like hours, although my phone said it was just a half hour. The first group returned and the assistant called out a few more names. My stomach lurched as my name was called. Trying not to shake, I stood up and followed him and a few others out to the main audition space. The room looked so much bigger without all the actors there. The assistant motioned for us to sit on the sidelines against the mirrored wall. As I sat down, I glanced over to Vil again, only to see him getting up. Was he leaving?

“We’ll start with auditioning our potential Opera Ghosts and Carolines. We’ll be double-casting these roles,” the man in the teal tie told us. “We’ve already had Mr. Schoenheit sign on as our main Opera Ghost -” Huh?! He was already in the show?! Was there another audition session I missed? Something about this unnerved me and I couldn’t place my finger on it. Sure, it was unusual, but I couldn’t tell why it was bothering me so. 

The man in the teal tie called out a name and a woman stood up, joining Vil in front of the auditioner’s table. I looked down at my script, reading through the lines again. I didn’t really need to; I was a fast learner and Deuce and I had gone over this enough times for me to remember it. But it was nice to stare at something that wasn’t other people.

Nerves were starting to eat at my stomach. The other actress sounded so good. Was I really cut out for this? I mean, I’d be thankful for any role in this show, but what if I bombed this so badly I wasn’t cast at all? 

… No. I couldn’t think like that. I had to get this job. I had to. I just needed to put everything I had into this. Nerves or awkwardness be damned. If I didn’t get this job, I wouldn’t have the money to get a place to stay this summer. I’d be homeless. Grim would be homeless. If I blew it, it wouldn’t be just me that would suffer. I needed to get this role at any cost.

I breathed in and out, trying to calm myself as one by one, each actress went up and read with either Vil or another man. I listened to the notes the auditioners gave, watched the way each actress portrayed Caroline, decided what choices I could make. I needed to keep a level head. I needed to destroy the competition. 

Suddenly, my name was called out as someone returned to sit with us. A deep breath. I could do this. I could do this. I got up and walked to where Vil was standing. I wasn’t sure if reading with someone I was acquainted with was going to be the most comfortable, but whatever. 

“Are you off-book on the sides?” A woman from behind the table asked. 

“I am,” I replied. She grinned.

“Go ahead and stow your script under the chaise lounge, then,” she instructed me. I gently tossed it under the lavish chaise right behind Vil and I. She was writing something down when I looked up; a majority of them were. My stomach was starting to knot itself again as I waited for the go-ahead.

“Hey.” Vil’s voice in my ear made me flinch. I looked at him. Up close, he was ever more beautiful, more beautiful than any photo could capture. “Is it okay if I touch you?”

“Huh? Yeah, it’s totally fine. Is it all right if I touch you?” I asked back. 

“Don’t mess up my hair or makeup,” he replied. 

“If you set your makeup right, that shouldn’t be a problem,” I said, grinning. He raised an eyebrow and I couldn’t decipher the look on his face. He was amused or pissed. One of those.

“All right, places!” the man in the teal tie called. Vil and I hurried to our spots, him on the chaise lounge and me just off to the side. I tried to channel Caroline, the heroine of the show. “Begin scene!”

After the sudden disappearance of the Opera Ghost, my mentor, I’d found his hiding place. I barged in, breathless, relieved that I’d found him. Yet, despite my joy, I was unsure, no, in denial about the true reason I wanted to find him. He shot up from his seat, shock written on his face.

“I…” The situation was hitting me. What could I say to him after everything that had happened? “I’ve found you.”

“So you have.” Cautious. He moved behind the chaise, keeping it between us. “Why are you here? To bring a mob to me?”

“No,” I breathed. I couldn’t bear the thought of him being hurt. “I don’t want you to be hurt.”

“Even after everything I did?” he demanded. Slowly, I started to move toward him.

“Even then.” I reached out to grab his hand, but in a flash, he moved away from me. My hand slowly fell back to my side.

“You have always been too kind for your own good,” he said softly. “...  I am not worthy of your kindness.”

“Don’t say that!” I cupped his face with my hands, praying my touch could convey my feelings for him. “You are deserving of love…” He smirked, his fingers brushing against my cheek. The touch made my heart race. I leaned into him.

“Do you really believe so?” he asked with a smirk.

The music began, the keyboard blaring. The heavy notes filled my blood and I could only imagine how it would sound with a full orchestra. Vil’s honeyed voice filled the air and I had to fight back surprise. Who knew he could sing? His hand slipped into mine, leading me around the room. His words dripped with innuendo and the walls around my heart were falling. Although I was to be wed soon, I fell under the Ghost’s spell. 

Soon, he wasn’t just leading me. I grabbed at him, pulling him close, desperate to be closer to him. His fingers dug into my hips. In an instant, he twirled me around, body pressing into my back. Oh, he wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to touch me; his hand was right on top of my thigh. Our duet was becoming faster, heavier. All I wanted was him to take me, to ravage me, to make me his. I was tired of his teasing touches. I needed more.

Once again, his hands gripped my hips tightly, walking me back to the chaise. Carefully, he laid me down. My heart was racing as he climbed on top of me. This wasn’t the closest we’d been and yet my heart was thudding so loudly I worried other people could hear it. I reached out, hand resting on his back and bringing him closer to me. We sang our last notes together, voices melting together. His face got closer to mine, our lips practically touching. But he didn’t close the small gap. We froze, waiting for the auditioners to end the scene.

“End!” someone called. I breathed a sigh of relief as Vil got off of me. My heart was still racing in my chest and I hated to admit it, but I felt winded from that scene. Vil offered his hand to me and helped me get off the chaise lounge. Was it so obvious? 

Some auditioners were still jotting down notes, others looking up at us. Vil stood by me, waiting patiently to receive notes.

“Your chemistry is fantastic,” one person said to us. They turned to me. “Towards the end, you were losing a little bit of energy. Be sure to keep that up through the whole piece.”

“Thank you,” I replied.

“Your vocal performance didn’t suffer too much from it, but again, it wasn’t as confident as we’d like,” another added. It hurt, but I nodded.

“Thank you,” I replied again.

“Vil, come back here. We’ll audition for another Opera Ghost.” Vil didn’t spare me a single glance, heading back to the table to join the producers and creative team. It’s not that I wanted him to stay with me, but man, I needed a breather after doing an intense scene like that.

The rest of the audition went fine. No one was as intense as Vil was and I did my best to take the notes I’d been given and improve on it. As I sat on the sidelines, I watched after time and time again Vil be fairly aggressive with the other potential Carolines. Part of me wished they were intimidated by it, but no, they all did really well. As expected of professional actors. 

“Great job, everyone,” the man in the teal tie told us as callbacks wrapped up. “We’ll email you with the results. If you don’t hear back within the week, you haven’t been cast.” Why did we have to wait so long? I’d have to spend this whole week anxious and checking my emails every hour.

“Have a good evening, everyone,” one of the auditioners called out from behind the table. The tension in the air disappeared immediately. It was over. I pulled out my phone, ready to text Ace and Deuce that I was done. As I left, I glanced over to the table. Vil was deep discussion with the producers. Oh well. I could get away with not saying bye. 

---

“So, did you have to do anything other than the song and lines?” Deuce asked me as we sat in our hotel room, boxes of pizzas in front of us. 

“Yeah. We did a quick dance portion, but it was mostly the sides and singing,” I replied. Now the audition was done, I could indulge a little in junk food.

“Doesn’t sound too bad,” Ace said, mouth full.

“It wasn’t. It was tiring, though,” I admitted. “I started off intense so it was an uphill battle. Vil was pretty aggressive.”

“Vil? He auditioned too?” 

“Yeah. It was that seduction scene Deuce and I suffered through and he was going for it. A couple times I legit thought he was going to touch me. But he didn’t!” I added hurriedly as looks of rage came over both Ace and Deuce. “He asked if he could touch me and I said it was fine, don’t worry. He wasn’t going around just grabbing my thighs like a life preserver without consent.” Their bodies relaxed.

“Are you sure you want to do this show if the audition is like this?” Ace asked. 

“Of course I do! If I get into this show, it’s a job and I don’t have to rely on Headmaster Crowley for everything!” I fired back.

“Jeez, calm down.” Ace crossed his arms in front of his chest. “This just seems like a weird show.”

“You’re saying that as if the first musical wasn’t weird,” Deuce commented.

“I’ve never seen The Opera Ghost and I’m not going to. My grandma took me to see Dance of the Vampires when I was a kid and that’s the first and last musical I’ll ever see,” Ace said indignantly.

“You can’t base every musical off of one you saw,” Deuce argued. I just grabbed another slice of pizza and kept eating as they fought. As much as I hated it, Ace’s words stuck with me. Sure, I didn’t know the first musical, but this was a job. A job I needed. Right now, I was technically taking dorm funds for necessities and although I doubted Crowley cared, I needed some way of making my own money. Who knew how long I was going to be here? 

I needed to start trying to be independent.

… No. I’ve worked hard. I can worry about money later. I pushed the anxiety to the back of my mind, jumping back into the conversation Deuce and Ace were having. The night went on and despite my long day, I had a hard time sleeping. 

I lay awake in the stiff hotel bed, staring up at the ceiling. Deuce was sound asleep in the roll-away bed that was wedged between mine and Ace’s beds. I sighed, rolling over towards him and the night stand. I grabbed my phone and unlocked it. Instinctively, I double-checked I was on the hotel’s wifi before doing anything.

There was a notification bubble on my email app and my stomach did a backflip. I took a deep breath and opened it. I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but still, my insides were starting to vibrate. There were two emails, one from the school about something I didn’t care about and the other from the people who’d sent me the music and sides for the audition. My body was shaking as I opened the email. My eyes read over the words quickly and that bubbly feeling grew and grew.

They offered me the role of Caroline.

My phone fell onto the mattress with a soft thud. My heart was about to beat out of my chest yet again today. I did it. I got the part. I wouldn’t have to worry about money soon. I had a job. I had a paying job. 

I got up and went into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. My body shook and I jumped up and down, trying to get the adrenaline out of my body. I did it! I had a job! Everything was going to be okay.

But as I tried to calm myself down, something came to mind. My audition with Vil. Who was already cast. … Was I going to have to do that scene again in front of more people?!

[bugaboosandbees]

Reine Ruse Part 4

Hello all! I hope you enjoy the next installment of this au. This chapter was hard to write and ended up going in a somewhat different direction than I had planned. (Tikki kind of took over.)

There were a lot of difficult topics to deal with in this chapter about bullying and emotional harm, and I can only hope that I managed to do them justice. Please let me know if you think there's anything I could improve.

I finished this over my lunch hour, so it's not been edited and I'm sorry for any errors you might find!

Thank you all again so much for reading! You're amazing and I hope you have a wonderful day!

As always, just ask if you’d like to be tagged in the future, and please remind me if I forgot you, computers are hard sometimes!

Plagg

“Can you believe this Plagg?” Adrien bit out as he grabbed several tissues to staunch the bloody nose that was still oozing despite the long run across the Parisian rooftops he’d had to get back from the Grand Paris Hotel. “I can’t believe that Chloe, of all people, would equate me with those people! She just doesn’t understand!” Pausing in his tirade, Adrien looked around, eyes finally landing on Plagg who was floating, deathly still and with slitted eyes, in the place Adrien had detransformed.

For his part, Plagg was furious. He couldn’t believe he’d let matters escalate this far, but he honestly hadn’t been aware that his kitten’s mindset had gotten this warped. He knew the kid wasn’t the best at decoding social cues and he’d felt sorry for the boy alone in such a cold home so, yeah, he’d given the kid a couple more passes for behavior than he might have given another chosen. He might not have been the best Black Cat he’d ever had, but he wasn’t the type to go rogue and try to destroy the world, and he didn’t hurt Plagg -- all things considered, he’d had much worse wielders in the past and the kid just seemed so lonely … He’d thought that after the whole debacle with the akuma that flooded Paris that things had more or less resolved themselves and, to be honest, he’d never paid much attention to his kitten’s banter with Tikki’s bug. If he’d only paid more attention… Shit, this really wasn’t his strong suit. Tikki was much better at getting through to people. He knew screaming at Adrien would just make him shut down… he needed to be calm, which would be hard.

“Did you ever consider,” Plagg offered in a level voice, “that she might have been right?”

If things hadn’t been so serious, Plagg might have cackled at the poleaxed look on Adrien’s face. “ What?! ”

“Kid, just listen to me,” Plagg sighed. “Let’s go with a hypothetical situation here. Say you were partnered with someone while modeling, and you only worked with that person. You saw that person as your best friend, and you had to rely on them in order for anything to work out at your job. You really like this other person outside of work, but you can’t say anything about it because you don’t want people who know about your job to harass them. You’ve told your partner this, more than once, but they still insist on telling people that the two of you are dating or that you’ll come around to their charms eventually. They derail photoshoots and events by flirting, and you have to do most, if not all, of the work in your partnership. You’re just trying to keep your head down and get your work done, but your partner gets more and more pushy until it’s gotten to the point where they attempt to physically chase and restrain you to demand a date. Adrien, kid, you’re a great black cat, but, please tell me that you can see that that’s not a healthy relationship.” Plagg maintained eye contact with his kitten, doing his best to exude the sort of calm and understanding presence that came so naturally to Tikki. Please, please listen to me. At the rate things were going, if Adrien didn’t stop what he was doing soon, he’d throw off the balance too far and Plagg would need to take the miraculous back. And Plagg knew, better than anyone, how much Adrien needed chat Noir. Please, kid.

Adrien looked down at his hands. They sat there for what felt like ages in silence as Adrien thought and Plagg watched over his kitten. He’d never admit it, but the ancient god felt almost faint with relief when Adrien looked back up at him, tears streaming down his cheeks and face twisted into an expression of horror. “What have I done, Plagg?”

Marinette

Any sense of safety that she’d felt evaporated the second she swung off of Chloe’s balcony and into the night. Marinette took the most roundabout way she could think of home, glancing over her shoulder almost more often than she looked ahead and scanning the surrounding rooftops with wide-blown eyes. When she finally detransformed and collapsed on her chaise, she breathed a sigh of relief. She could feel Tikki huddled in the space where her neck met her shoulder as she took several deep, bracing breaths. Once she felt calm and safe again, she looked up at her room and at the dozens of posters and pictures of Adrien crowded across its walls. She’d considered taking them down for a few weeks now, as Adrien’s inaction against Lila had dampened her crush. But now… She looked down at Tikki and sighed. “This was never healthy, was it?”

Tikki met her eyes with the infinite compassion Marinette was still baffled that she could always count on and hardly felt she deserved and gently shook her head.

“I…” Marinette paused and firmed her jaw. “No. I’m not going to be like that anymore. I’m not going to be like that ever again.” And as the stars above Paris shone down on a city that slept, its heroine moved methodically about her room, taking down posters and schedules and computer backgrounds. When she finished, it looked… empty, but a healthy kind of empty full of promise and possibility. She could already think of so many ways to fill the space she’d freed… but that would be a task for tomorrow.

She felt her eyelids drooping as she crawled into bed and flung one arm over her face. What had happened that night felt so surreal. Then again, the past several weeks had felt entirely like a waking dream or nightmare. Since Hawkmoth had appeared and she’d become Ladybug for the first time, she’d had to up-end her worldview completely, but she’d done that, she’d gotten used to the way things had become. Since Lila arrived back at school everything had been turned on its head once again and Marinette could hardly tell which way was up and which way was down anymore. Alya hadn’t spoken to her kindly in days, her partner was becoming a terrifying stranger, and the only place she felt safe was with Chloe Bourgeois, of all people. She still wasn’t sure why she’d gone to Chloe’s balcony that first night or why she kept returning. Chloe had made her life miserable for years, had beaten down her self-confidence to such an extent that she’d had no one before Alya and had tried to cut her down at every turn for as long as she could remember. Those feelings of anger and despair hadn’t just disappeared -- but things were so complicated now… She didn’t know what she felt about Chloe anymore. Well, that wasn’t necessarily something that she had to sort out immediately either. She’d take this one day at a time, and, if Chloe kept improving and really turned into someone she could truly rely on, well, then she’d think about what it would mean to forgive her.

She’d cross that bridge when she got there.

Tikki

Tikki gazed down at her sleeping chosen. The determined frown she’d worn while removing all traces of her obsessive crush from her room had faded as she fell asleep. She couldn’t help the proud feeling that welled up in her when Marinette had confronted her own flaws when faced with the more glaring example of her partner’s. She would have been totally within her rights to have let the crying jag that passed at Chloe’s continue longer than she had, but she’d demonstrated true Ladybug strength yet again and learned from another awful situation what she could. Still, the extent to which Plagg’s kitten had damaged her trust in him was worrying -- on both sides of the mask.

Tikki heard a whimper and glanced down to see her chosen’s face twisted in a nightmare. “Chat, no… why?” she whispered brokenly. Tikki’s face hardened. That was it -- this had gone too far. She was going to Fu.

Master Fu

Wang Fu suddenly shot awake. He looked at the window beside his bed -- it was still the middle of the night. Why? He felt an urgent pull inside his chest, below his breastbone. He was being summoned? What had happened? He quickly turned toward the miracle box and was met with the sight of the kwami of creation staring solemnly at him. He could read in the downturn of her eyes that she was angry -- angrier than he’d ever personally seen her.

“Tikki? What is wrong? Why have you come here without your chosen?”

“The boy you picked to wield the black cat miraculous is this close to completely breaking the balance between Plagg and I’s wielders. He has betrayed my chosen on both sides of the mask and just tonight he hunted her across the city in what appeared to be an attempt to physically force her to reciprocate his feelings. You have allowed him to continue in a dangerous mindset unchecked for too long.”

“But --”

“I know the reasons that you chose him for the ring, and, if he had ever been properly disciplined, I might be able to concede that you made the right decision. You chose a wielder that needed to learn in order to work effectively and then refused to teach him.”

“But it would be dangerous to release another miraculous permanently, especially with the new peacock villain. I cannot justify that risk!”

The air in the room stilled and Fu found it harder to breathe. Tikki’s eyes narrowed and she began to glow as she loosed some of her aura into the space. “Cannot justify the risk?” her voice echoed in a way that did not fit her size. “What about the risk to my chosen? You may be the guardian of the miracle box, but you forget that you were never formally trained. You forget what your mistakes have already cost. You are not infallible. You are not a god. And that was not a request.”

Fu trembled before her. “V… very well. I shall choose --”

“I shall choose. Forgive me if I have lost faith in your judgment.” The light around Tikki flashed and the fox necklace appeared in front of her. She grasped the chain in her paws and restrained her power.

“Wayzz?” Tikki acknowledged the turtle kwami that had been waiting, frozen, in a corner of the room for the first time. “Make sure he actually thinks about this mistake.” She met Fu’s eyes one last time, conveying a sense of disappointment and disapproval that almost brought him to his knees, and then she flew out the window and into the night.

Chloe

Chloe Bourgeois couldn’t sleep. Her confrontation with Chat Noir played over and over again in her head. Her nails dug crescents into her palms as she thought about the proprietary way that the cat had talked about Ladybug and the fear in the heroine’s eyes as she’d tumbled into Chloe’s apartment and run to hide. An uncomfortable pang of guilt ran through her as she thought of her friendship with Sabrina before she’d abandoned her for Lila and her previous self-serving idolatry of Ladybug. No. There was no use feeling guilty for her past mistakes. She would apologize, and then she would not make them again.

She only wished that she had the power to make her apology to Ladybug mean something more, that she could actually protect her, rather than only being there to pick up the pieces that Hawkmoth or Chat Noir had broken. She started as she heard a soft knock on the glass pane of the balcony door. Rising from her bed, she padded over to see Ladybug’s kwami waiting outside her window with a stormy expression, holding a familiar looking necklace. Chloe opened the door as quickly as she was able and gestured the kwami inside.

“What’s wrong?” She questioned urgently. If Ladybug’s kwami was here without her, what could have happened? If that cat had gotten her akumatized …

“Many things,” Tikki replied, “but nothing urgent. There is not an attack, and Ladybug is safe.”

“Then why --?”

“She is safe for now.” Tikki cut in. “You’ve seen that her partner has demonstrated that he is almost as present a danger to her as Hawkmoth emotionally. She needs help that she can trust, someone to stand by her against all threats no matter how hard or dangerous things become.” She stared directly at Chloe. There was a pressure behind her gaze that was almost physical, and Chloe fought to not flinch. “Do you think you could do that?”

It took Chloe a moment to register the question. Did she? And then a vision of Ladybug’s eyes, still full of tears, flashed inside her mind. She met Tikki’s gaze evenly. “Yes.”

For a moment, all was silent as Tikki stared into her soul. Chloe could only hope that the tiny god found something worthwhile there. Eventually, Tikki nodded.

“Very well then.” She held up the necklace in her paws. “Chloe Bourgeois, this is the miraculous of the fox. It grants the power of illusions. You will use it to be Ladybug’s right hand, her shield, her friend, and her support. You will reveal your identity to no one. If at any point you forsake your duty to her, I will reclaim the miraculous and ensure that you never forget your mistake. Do you understand?”

Chloe’s heart was beating through her chest. “Yes.”

Tikki

Tikki landed on the small pillow that Marinette kept beside her bed for her use. She looked at her charge once more. She only hoped that she’d made the right decision. The pressure and the events of the day caught up to her and she had to restrain a somewhat hysterical giggle. Dear balance, she’d been acting like Plagg. It just showed that, although she might be the “good” side of the universe’s balance, no one was allowed to mess with her family. She nestled down underneath her small blanket.

“Don’t worry Marinette,” she mumbled sleepily, “things will turn out all right.” Her eyes drifted closed, and she let herself sink into a restful sleep, heartened by the fact that there was now someone she could count on to protect her chosen when she could not.

Tags: 

@demydreamer-otaku-and-book-lover , @anastasian-dreamer, @donegonewrong , @twinkletoes-rp , @asandygraves , @fatimaabbasrizvi , @im-here-for-the-content , @theorangelizard , @captainrose35 , @pleasefollowmeuwu , @the-ice-goddess , @ofpassionsandobsessions, @starberry-mina, @mikantsume, 

[sparklingskz]

across the world | lee felix

▸ anon requested: Can you write an enemies to lovers au with Felix?

▸ genre: fluff, angst, enemies to friends to lovers lol

▸  pairing: reader x felix

▸ description: you and felix were best friends, suddenly you move across the world and things end badly. Now you’re back, and moving across him.

▸ word count: 3.5k

▸ warnings: swearing, alcohol

▸  a/n: thank you for requesting!! this one’s a bit longer uwu btw I’m almost sure this is gender neutral but if something slipped please tell me!!

“Felix? Is that you?” you said in a surprised tone.

The man in question was standing by his door, keys in hand ready to unlock it. He was the same boy you remembered, only with more freckles and with light brown hair instead of the dark shade he sported in school. However, his expression exuded coldness towards you, not the welcoming gaze you were used to seeing in him.

Felix and you were the absolute best friends in high school. Of course, each of you had a small group of other friends, but neither of you were as close with them as you were with each other. You met in 10th grade, when you were assigned partners during a class you both hated, and bonded over that. You were inseparable since that moment; you shared secrets, did a lot of stuff together and partnered in class all the time.

Along the way, you don’t know exactly when, you noticed you had a tiny crush on Felix. Just a teeny tiny crush, which you would bury deep inside of you and never act on it as to not ruin your friendship. You never changed your attitude towards the boy as to not expose yourself, but always, in the back of your mind, was this voice freaking out over the tiniest of touches, smallest of smiles and the lock of your gazes.

That way the last year of high school came around, and your school had a tradition of setting up a dance during the last day of school, to celebrate the end of another year. People often went to the dance with a partner or with a group of friends, and, in all honestly, you didn’t know who you would be going with.

Of course, your first thought was Felix. Would it be weird? Would he discover you had a crush on him if you asked him to go to the dance with you? He hadn’t commented anything about the dance around you, so you didn’t know if he was going with someone either. That was until you overheard one of your classmates talking in the hallway.

“Yeah, I’m probably going with Felix to the dance. It’s going to be so much fun!”

Then and there, your heart broke just a little bit. You continued walking, desperate to just get to your next class and forget about the stupid dance.

You were in your seat, taking out your notes when you feel someone tap your shoulder. You turned around and saw Hyunjin, one of the boys from your friend group.

“Hey y/n, do you have a partner for the dance?” He said while smiling.

“Nope.” You answered, emphasizing on the “p”.

“Not going with Felix?” He inquired, tilting his head.

“Apparently not.” You sighed.

He thought for a second. “Well, how about we go together? In a super friendly way, of course.”

You pondered your options. Showing up at the dance alone while Felix was having fun with his partner, or go with Hyunjin, who was your friend and a super cool guy to spend time with? You’ll take the second one, please.

“Okay, I don’t see why not.” You said while throwing a smile in his direction.

“Cool, I’ll text you the details.” He said just when the teacher entered the classroom, and you turned around in your seat to face the front.

You wouldn’t let a stupid crush defeat you.

While the days until the dance decreased Felix still hadn’t said anything about his partner, so you didn’t mention you were going with Hyunjin. That was until the day before the dance, when he was hanging out in your house and he brought it up.

“Hey, what time should I pick you up to go to the dance?” he said nonchalantly.

You froze. “Uh, what do you mean?”

“What I just said?” He said in a “duh” tone.

“We’re going together?” You inquired.

“I assumed so? We’re best friends.” He said as it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Hyunjin invited me, so I’m going with him.” You said, almost dreading his reaction.

Felix just looked at you, and suddenly stood up. “I’m going home.” He picked up his stuff and headed for the door.

“Hey! Felix, wait!” You said. “Why are you so mad? I thought you already had a partner!”

“No, y/n. I was always thinking of you. Have fun with Hyunjin.” He said before closing the door behind him, and you felt that he took your heart with him.

The day of the dance, you and Felix ignored each other the whole time. You tried to not think about him and have some fun with Hyunjin, but every time you seemed to forget you saw the freckled boy standing there with his friends, or dancing.

What you felt the worst about was one thing, though. You hadn’t told him about an important detail in your life, because you were waiting to do it at your house the day before the dance, but he left angrily.

You were going to attend college in America, not in Australia.

You didn’t want to leave without talking to Felix, so you approached him before the dance ended. It didn’t matter if he was mad at you, he was probably going to be even madder now.

“Um, Felix?” You said cautiously.

He turned around. “What?” You almost flinched at the coldness of his tone.

“I need to tell you something, and I’m so sorry for leaving it for the last minute.” You took a deep breath. “I’m leaving Australia in a few days, I’m attending college in America.”

You saw the flash of confusion and hurt in his eyes. “And you’re telling me now?” he emphasized the last word. “I thought we were best friends, y/n. Best friends who told each other everything. Now you couldn’t even tell me you were going to a whole different continent? I was hoping we’d still be able to talk and see each other, even if we were in different colleges! Now you’re going to be away for years!” he said angrily.

“We can still talk-“

“I don’t want to talk with you.” He interrupted, and left.

A few days later, you flew to America and went to college there. You really liked your campus, you made plenty of friends but you missed good old Australia. That’s why, four years later, you returned to your country, having finished your studies and graduated.

A few days after you came back, you had found and rented a cute one bedroom apartment (with a bit of your parent’s help, of course) that was close to your new job, and had just finished moving in when it happened.

You hadn’t seen or talked to Felix since you fought at the dance all those years ago. That was, until now.

You were leaving your apartment to do some grocery shopping, when you saw your neighbor just about to open his door. This was your first time meeting him and he looked about your age, so you wanted to make a good first impression.

“Hi, I’m your new neighbor, y/n.” You introduced yourself.

The boy turned around, and was about to answer when he froze.

You froze too.

“Felix? Is that you?” Hesitance was clear in your tone.

He stared at you for a few more seconds, but then it seemed like he got out of a trance and quickly opened his door and closed it behind him.

You stood there, still frozen in place, not processing you had just seen him. You often thought about Felix while you were in America, the prospect of seeing him again always in the back of your mind, but you never imagined it was actually going to happen.

Now you’d have to live knowing he’s there, just a few footsteps away from you, but probably not wanting to see you. You thought about just knocking on his door, but he’s most likely in the same state as you, only more shocked. You’d give him time, but as apparently you were neighbors now you’d probably see him again sooner or later, and when that happened you’d try talking to him. Yes. Good plan.

Turns out the next time you saw Felix was rather sooner than later. You were walking down the stairs to go get some mail you received, but stopped at the end of the staircase when you saw your old friend standing in front of the mail boxes, reading his mail. You internally debated if you should go over there or not, but it was a perfect opportunity to talk to him.

You stood next to him, took a deep breath and spoke.

“Um… Hi.” You said, taking out your mail and pretending to analyze it really hard.

You felt Felix turn to look at you, and you looked back.

“Hi.” He said, kind of coldly. Hey, it was a start.

“So…” You started saying. “I’m back.”

Perhaps that was not what you should have said. “I can see that.” He said closing his mail box harshly before turning on his feet and heading up the stairs quickly, probably towards his apartment.

You sighed and closed your mailbox. It was going to be extremely difficult to regain his confidence, hell you didn’t even know if he even wanted to be friends with you again. However, that didn’t mean that you weren’t going to try.

That’s why the next time you saw him, you tried to have an actual conversation with him. You were both entering the building, Felix obviously trying to walk quicker than you to avoid conversation.

“Hey Felix?” You said catching up to him.

He sighed. “What do you want, y/n?”

You were about to say something along the lines of “don’t you think it’s weird that we live in the same building and are next door neighbors?? haha insane right”, but the only thing you could muster out was a small “I missed you…”

Felix sighed again. “I missed you too, y/n. But I suffered so much when you left, in less than a day I lost my best friend in the entire world. When I saw you again the other day, all the memories came crashing back, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Let’s talk then, let’s be friends again.” You said hopefully.

“I’m afraid not, y/n.” He said.

Before you could even ask him why, he quickly entered his apartment. You entered yours, and wondered how a simple misunderstanding and a trip to another continent damaged things so bad between you two. Come to think of it, it wasn’t fair to him that you didn’t tell him you were moving, but you thought you two would keep talking while you were away. The dance messed it all up, and you were still paying for it.

However, you were an adult now, and there was a simple way to forget about your problems: alcohol.

Felix was sitting on his couch watching a movie when he heard it: the sound of a bunch of objects hitting the floor and a loud “Fuck!” coming from the hallway. His curiosity got the best of him and he got up to open the door and peek outside, and he definitely did not expect to see what he saw.

There you were on the floor, clumsily picking up the things that fell out of your bag.

“y/n?” He said hesitantly. “Are you ok?”

You turned your head to look at him. “Uh… Yeah. Perfectly fine.”

Felix immediately knew you were a bit drunk.

“Are you drunk?”

“What? Me? Of course not.” You said as you tried to stand up, almost falling down in the process, but Felix quickly reacted and caught you before you could fall over. He steadied you on your feet and let go.

Felix sighed. “Where are your keys?”

You patted your pockets. “Uh… I was searching for them when everything slipped out… But here they are!” You held them proudly in one hand.

“Okay, now open your door.” Felix said.

You took the keys and tried putting the right one in the lock. This was apparently very difficult given your dizzy state, which is why Felix gently took them from you and opened the door.

The second you entered your apartment, you took off your shoes, put your bag down and threw yourself on the couch. Felix just stood in the doorframe, watching amusedly.

“You should go sleep in your bed, y/n.” He said tiredly.

“But it’s soooooo far.” You retorted.

Felix just chuckled and helped you stand up, guiding you to your bedroom, which was easy for him to find as his apartment had the same layout as yours.

“Don’t you want to change into something more comfortable?” He said, looking at your night out clothes.

“Uh… Probably.” You said while going over to your closet, not without a bit of difficulty.

“I’ll leave you to that.” Felix said, while he went to the kitchen to get you a glass of water.

He waited until you changed and then left the glass on your bedside table. Why was he even doing this? Taking care of you? After everything that happened?

“Okay, I’ll be going now.” He said.

You turned to look at him. “I’m so sorry for everything Felix… I was so horrible for doing that to you. I cared so much about you, hell, I still do. Please, I want to talk to you again.” You started saying, almost pleading.

Felix sighed. “We’ll talk when you’re sober.” He retorted, and left you alone.

When you woke up the next day, your head was pounding. You weren’t that drunk the night before, just enough to forget about Felix and have some fun. You vaguely remember Felix helping you in your apartment, and shame crept over you. You weren’t glad he saw you in that state, but another part of you was happy he helped you.

After freshening up a little and eating breakfast, you decidedly went over to Felix’s door and knocked. It wasn’t too early, so you were sure he was home. A few seconds later the door opened, revealing the freckled boy.

“Oh.” He just said.

“Uh… Hi.” You started saying nervously. “Firstly, I came to say sorry you had to see me like that yesterday… I wasn’t thinking correctly. Secondly, I wanted to say thank you for helping me, you didn’t have to do that but you did…”

“It’s no problem.”

You took in a big breath, and just started talking. “You know, Felix, the last thing I expected when I moved here was to live right across from you, my best friend, or well, my ex best friend. But I’d like to think it was for a reason, you know? You were the only person I was truly close to in high school, I appreciated your friendship so much. I know it’s going to be difficult, but there’s nothing I want more in the world than having you back. So please, can we fix things?”

Felix looked like he was taking in all your words. “Come in.” He suddenly said, stepping apart to let you into his apartment.

“Thank you so much.” You said as you stepped inside.

The both of you sat down in the sofa, plenty of distance between you. The air was tense, so you spoke first.

“Again, I’m so sorry I left Australia so suddenly. I should’ve talked to you first.”

“Yeah, you should’ve. But I still have some fault in everything that happened. The both of us shouldn’t have assumed things, but we did and now we’re here, years later.”

You smiled a bit. “Yeah, we’re whole adults now.”

Felix went silent for a bit, and then spoke. “It was so difficult seeing you again, y/n. I thought you were out of my life for good.” Sadness was evident in his tone.

“But now I’m here, and I’d like to make things right. Maybe we could hang out so we can catch up? There are lots of things to tell, I assume.” You said hopefully.

Felix looked deep in thought. You knew you were pushing your luck here, but if he said yes, you’d be able to fix things.

“Okay, let’s try that.”

You smiled brightly, happiness flooding your body. “Thank you. How about we go to my apartment, I make some lunch, and we can talk?”

“I don’t see why not.”

Things were surely weird at first. Felix was sitting on one of your kitchen stools while you cooked, and he was mostly in silence while you talked about your adventures in university. After a while though, it seemed like he gave up on the cold exterior and started talking too, putting you up to date on his life.

Once you finished cooking and served two plates, you sat down and continued talking. You couldn’t believe how much you had missed him, from the way he spoke to his smile. You felt at home with him, even after years had passed.

You both shared anecdotes from your time apart, talked about the new friends you made, your actual jobs, and reminisced over old high school stories from when you were best friends. That’s when the air got a bit tense, as you started talking about how close you were.

“You know…” He started saying. “I want to apologize for treating you badly the first few times we saw each other here. It was probably unnecessary.”

“No, I get it. I suddenly disappear from your life and now I’m back, you have every right to be upset.”

He stayed silent for a moment. “I’m not upset anymore… I want you back in my life y/n, now that we talked I realized how much I missed my best friend, and I won’t let the opportunity of having you back again slip from my fingers.”

You smiled widely. “That makes me so happy to hear.”

The next few weeks consisted of you going to work and hanging out with Felix. Both of you came over to each other’s apartment’s all of the time, sometimes staying over for dinner or just to watch some TV and talk. You were so glad to have your best friend back, and thanked the universe for making you live right across from him. However, along with the happiness you felt, something else returned.

That was, you were slowly realizing your crush on Felix was coming back. Every time he talked or smiled you fell a little deeper, plus his attitude didn’t really change so your dumb high school crush didn’t have a reason to leave either, even after all these years.

The thing is, you weren’t really sure of what Felix felt towards you. You know you just started being friends again after the awkwardness of the first encounters, but you have grown really close these past weeks. You have a slight feeling he may like you back, just a tiny bit. It may be the lingering stares, the small touches or the wide smiles, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up, even when your heart sped up whenever these happened.

One day, you were both sitting on his couch, a boring TV show playing in the background while you talked about anything and everything, as you used to. After a few moments of silence, Felix spoke.

“You know,” he started saying. “I used to have the biggest crush on you in high school.” He finished with a small giggle. “That’s why I was so mad we weren’t going to the dance together.”

You froze. Did you hear that right?

“You- you did?”

“Yeah…” He scratched his neck. “I mean, we were always together and you’re amazing, how could I have not had a crush on you?”

Maybe it was time to come clean too.

“Well, you’re not the only one because I used to have a crush on you too.” You said, probably blushing.

“Wait really? Why didn’t you say anything!” he exclaimed, hitting your arm playfully.

“Why would I?” you laughed. “I wasn’t sure you liked me back, I wasn’t going to go and ruin our friendship.”

“We’re so stupid.” Felix laughed. “If only we said anything…”

A tense silence filled up the room.

“Fuck it.” You heard Felix mutter under his breath. “y/n, I think I still have that crush on you. Or at least it came back after seeing you again.”

You sat there frozen for a few seconds, processing his words. Then you also decided to say fuck it and leaned forward to press your lips against Felix’s.

You felt as he was shocked for a few milliseconds but then immediately reciprocated the kiss, putting his hands on both sides of your cheeks. It was just the press of your lips against each other, but the way your heart was racing showed how much you have been anticipating this.

You broke apart after a few seconds and looked into each other’s eyes, Felix’s hands still on your face. You could see every one of his freckles from this close up, he was so beautiful.

Felix smiled. “Do you want to go on a date with me?” he said.

You smiled back. “There’s nothing that would make me happier.”

[scholar-thief]

[ RP LOG ]

Momori and“Third-eye Fugetsu” talk while sharing cups of...bone juice.

Momori glimpses the figure of someone standing in the shadows, a place that didn’t often have visitors. Upon taking a closer look, she recognizes Fugetsu. What good timing! She had just the ‘gift’ for him.

Momori cautiously approaches the man, wary of interrupting...whatever he’s doing here, exactly. She taps him on the backside of his leg. “Hey, been looking for you.”

Fugetsu 's head slowly listed over his shoulder. His hands were laced together beneath the ends of his sleeves. "You have been looking for me? You must be mistaken. Few people are looking for /this one/."

Momori stares up at Fugetsu and smirks. “Not mistaken, I can recognize that mask anywhere. Anyway, take this.” She hands the other man a handful of bone chips and a container of liquid. “I remember a certain old coot telling me about the origins of milk.”

Fugetsu turns one of the bone chips over in his hand, giving it a once-over. "I take it you took it upon yourself, then, to deal with your quarry's remains? It's respectable. What did you do with the rest of the bones?"

Momori cracks a knuckle, then spreads her hands over the air. (???) A mysterious hand gesture, and one that she thinks is enough to answer Fugetsu’s question. She then gives him a stern look. “Milk time.”

Fugetsu swished the container of milk around, bringing it up to his face. "I wonder, then, what sort of milk you've gotten...? It smells quite nice..."

Fugetsu: Such trouble, to go through for all this. But you did it regardless.

Momori: “That’s some ‘milk’ I made based off of what you had told me prior. Bone dust and water. Haven’t tasted it yet. Figured we’d both give it a sip.” Her gaze darts from the container, then back at Fugetsu, then back to the container...This repeats three times, before she finally rests her stare on the bone chips. “And in case I somehow...made it wrong, you could make a fresh batch.”

Fugetsu raises the container of milk, looking down to Momori. "You desire us to drink at the same time, then?"

Momori pulls out two ceramic cups. “Yes.”

Momori: "That's what milk time means."

Fugetsu let out a chuckle, kneeling, then crossing his legs. He placed his hands atop his knees, bowing his head to Momori. "Well, what are you waiting for? Let us imbibe!"

Momori searches for any sign of Fugetsu ‘breaking’ his act. So far, the man seemed dead serious. Perhaps he really was just a senile old man? Either way, she wasn’t going to be the one to falter first. Momori kneels down as well and places the two cups in the space between them, and fills each to the brim with the...the ‘milk.’ Which slorps out with unappetizing bursts.

Fugetsu reached down to pick up the cup, swirling around its horrid, chunky contents right beneath his nose, or at least where his nose would be located beneath the mask. "Mm... Have you had the chance to sample it yourself, yet?"

Momori shakes her head. “No. I’ve...held back. So that we could try it together.” She similarly picks up her cup and cradles it with both her hands, as if it were a nice warm cup of tea. Unfortunately, it is not. It is a /disaster/ of a beverage, grossly separated into water and white paste. She lifts it up, challenging Fugetsu to do the same. “Bottoms up.”

Fugetsu nods. "And thank you very much!" He raises the cup to Momori, then tilts his head back, bringing the cup up to his face, and... it's not clear what happens. But a few seconds later, the cup is empty, and he sets it upside-down on the grass.

Fugetsu exhales, then slowly nods again. "...A very unique consistency, and rustic flavor profile!"

Momori narrows her eyes as she tries to comprehend how Fugetsu downed the liquid. His mask is not covered in milk, nor is the grass. Simply, it appears to be gone. Consumed. She gives him a dirty look while she brings her own cup up to drink. The liquid barely wets her lips, before she sets the cup back down.

Momori: “It’s awful.”

Fugetsu: I think it's unique. Perhaps if you used a mortal and pestle to grind the bone extremely fine, it would go down far better.

Momori: “Unique is a gentle way of saying something is absolutely unacceptable. And, ugh.” Her nose crinkles up. “That’d just make it even pastier. Though it’s possible it would slide down the gullet easier. It would do no favors for its flavor.”

(Momori) no flavor favors for the bone juice (Fugetsu) the bone juice is eternal

Fugetsu: Maybe spices of some kind? Maybe pepper flakes of some kind. Brown sugar...

Fugetsu: Sweet syrup.

Fugetsu: Ferment it, perhaps!

Momori empties the remnants of her share on the grass, leaving behind a distinct pile of white goo. She then picks up Fugetsu’s cup and almost glares at the empty bottom of the container. Did he really drink it? Gods.

Momori: “I don’t think any amount of spice could hide this drink’s texture. And I say that, as someone who was raised on eating spiced bugs since childhood.”

Fugetsu: You never know until you try.

Fugetsu: Many culinary breakthroughs have come from similar places.

Momori just sighs.

Momori: “I...ugh. I’ve got the worst aftertaste in my mouth. Enough to make my bones hurt.”

Momori: “You’re a very odd fellow. So open to trying new things. Most do the opposite as they age.”

Fugetsu: Hmph. Well, most old people are just... old. There is a clear difference between those whose minds close as they grow older, and those whose minds open up.

Fugetsu: I am not called a 'sage', for nothing.

Momori: “So says the old person in front of me.” Momori can only assume his age, based off of Fugetsu’s voice and posture. “Ser Mask, who are you a sage for?”

Fugetsu: I come from an order of sages. Masked sages, that is.

Fugetsu: We are rather scattered about. it is a loose affiliation.

Momori - Her ear twitches at the mention of an order of sages. Aha, so he wasn’t just some senile local who liked to mess with others! She leans in, eyes ablaze with a burning interest.

Momori: “Does the order have a mission? Do you have a mission? How long has this order existed?” She pauses, collecting her thoughts. "As a historian, I have interest in such things."

Fugetsu: Hmph. There is not much to say about the others. They approached me long after I had established my swordsmanship school.

Momori: “Why’d you join them, if you already were running a school?” It takes every ounce of Momori’s strength to keep back the flood of questions that bounce around in her brain.

Fugetsu shook his head. "They said their order had been around since time eternal or immemorial, they were trying to stop a... Mrm, I can't rightly remember. You know how these sorts of things are, they'll say anything you to get you to join, it's like one of those... Mrm.”

Fugetsu: It's not terribly interesting. What sorts of ingredients do you think could be added to your bone concoction?

Momori - Fugetsu appears to be carefully selecting his next words, and deflecting a real answer by changing the subject. Bone juice be damned, there was something interesting to pick at here. “Hm, seems highly secretive and powerful. Otherwise you wouldn’t bother keeping secrets for them. Understandable, Ser Mask. Makes documenting a lot harder, though.”

Momori sighs at the mention of the bone concoction. “I don’t know. It’s so far gone, I doubt anything could make that thing edible in the slightest.”

Fugetsu: Chasing secrets is an easy way to find yourself in a whole lot of trouble that could be avoided. After all, what is risk without reward? And there is little of interest there.

Fugetsu: You should know, the lot of us are the victims of that impulse.

Fugetsu: Here we are, chasing the fragments of old Allag.

Momori throws caution to the wind. “Oh, and did you wear a mask prior to joining the order? Did they give you one to wear?”

Fugetsu: I've worn this mask for many years.

Momori then addresses the later statements. “Such secrets are worth pursuing, no matter the cost. We are no strangers to danger, and should give it our all. To fail would be folly.”

Fugetsu: An idealistic take on it, to be sure.

Fugetsu: You believe we are pursuing such things for the sake of research?

Momori: “Pragmatic. We choose to put ourselves in danger, so allowing anxiety in would be opening ourselves up to attack.” She states this as though it were fact. “No, we all have our reasons for tagging along with the expedition. Some nobler than others, unfortunately.”

Fugetsu: Some of us.

Fugetsu: Certainly not I.

Momori gives Fugetsu a measured stare. “Don’t put yourself down. Mysterious masked sage, practically exuding wisdom about the secrets of milk and life. You probably have the best reason of us all.”

Fugetsu: I almost certainly do not.

Momori: “Do too.”

Fugetsu: You are so convinced of this?

Momori: “I will never know for sure until I hear your reason. Until then, I assume only the best for you.”

Fugetsu: I enjoy joining doomed voyages such as this.

Momori: “Not your first?” She tilts her head slightly.

Fugetsu: Not at all. I have been around for a little while, after all.

Momori: “A true vote of confidence.”

Fugetsu: But of course.

Momori: “I prefer the non-doomed variety. Less messy.”

Momori: “Just like how I prefer normal milk. Perhaps it’s my youth speaking.”

Fugetsu: The 'messy' part is what makes it so much fun, though, yes?

Momori: “No thank you. I’ll take a job, perfectly and cleanly executed, over a mess any day.” Her hand glances over a dagger for a moment, then returns to her lap.. “But with an operation as big as this, mistakes are bound to happen. Too many cooks in the kitchen, so to speak.”

Fugetsu: Money interests me little, at this point.

Momori: “I would gladly take any donations, then.” A sickly sweet smile spreads across her face.

Fugetsu: Hmph. Perhaps I will think about it.

Momori chuckles at Fugetsu’s reaction. “In just three easy payments, you can help fund a Lalafell’s mission to save the world! No refunds.”

Fugetsu: World's already been saved though, yes? What, are you planning to launch a new front against the Empire?

Momori: “World is far from being saved. Poor roam the streets, primals knock at our very door. The Empire is still a thing and so are the Rovers.” She counts each point on her fingers. “Lot to be done.”

Fugetsu: And you have solutions?

Momori - A miniscule, but very much there, smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth. “Not yet. Perhaps the secrets of the past can aid us in solving these problems. It’s no wonder that both the expedition and the Rovers are seeking out the heart,” she says rather smugly.

Fugetsu: They are far more self-interested than you may think.

Momori: “You mean the expedition, or the Rovers?”

Fugetsu: Both.

Momori nods. “Wise answer. Thankfully, I’m here, and I’ll take what I can get. Can’t force a horsebird to drink, yada yada.”

Fugetsu: You are that starved for work?

Momori: “An expedition on a journey to recover a powerful, allagan artifact makes rare and valuable work. There are some bonuses along the way too, that far make up for the lack of pay.”

Fugetsu: I'm sure they have no shortage of warm bodies willing to put themselves betwen the Rovers and the shiny object that we so desperately covet.

Momori: “Oh, it’ll be a hard won fight for sure. Good thing the expedition has us then. Or not, given that you like doomed voyages.”

Fugetsu: That is operating under the assumption you win.

Fugetsu: And if I have learned one thing, it is that your opponent is never more vulnerable than the minute they start to believe that their victory is assured.

Momori just accepts the first part of Fugetsu’s remark, and waves off the second. “Learned that long ago.” But...did she really? Eh.

Fugetsu: If you say so.

Fugetsu: But you certainly sound confident.

Momori: “I’m confident for good reason. And skill.”

Momori gets up and stretches her limbs with a mighty yawn. “Well, it’s been enlightening, Ser Mask. I look forward to chatting again, hopefully over something more enjoyable than bone juice.”

Fugetsu: Perhaps.

You bid farewell to Fugetsu.

Fugetsu bids farewell to you.

[lailannajacobs]

Just Dumb Luck - Loki X Reader

Pairing: Loki LaufeysonX Reader

Summary: Without a date for your double date with your ex, you grab the first stranger you set your eyes on. 

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Fluff, flirty Loki

A/N: First time writing fan fiction (and writing in 2nd POV) so please be gentle! Also tried to make it as gender neutral as possible! Feedback is always appreciated! 

You can't believe you forgot. You know you can always come up with some excuse, like the flu, so that you won't have to show up to your double date with your ex, Brian, but you know he'd see through it. Even if he didn't, it would still feel like you lost the breakup. And you never lose. It wasn't like you had actually thought he was serious when he had said he still wanted to be friends after breaking up eight months ago. You guys hadn't even kept in touch until about a couple days ago when you had bumped into him on your way to work. Seeing him standing there with his pretty blond girlfriend had almost made you throw your coffee on them. Almost. Instead, you had just lied about being in a relationship too, without thinking that he would invite you and your new partner to dinner with them. You had agreed like an idiot, thinking one of your coworkers would play the part for the night, but those asshats were all busy.

You were ten minutes away from the stupid date, on the subway texting every one of your contacts in desperation. You would settle for any of your friends, even some of the ones that he had met. People fell in love with their friends all the time, it was a credible lie. Right? But it didn't matter. No one was free when you needed them to be.

You mount the steps and out into the cool evening air, almost sending Brian a text saying there was trouble with the subway and you were going to be late, so that you could give yourself more time to find your date. But that's when you see him, leaning against a street lamp, staring at his phone in confusion. You don't know what it is that makes you zero in on this guy. Maybe it's because the dark suit, dark hair and angular facial features are the opposite of Brian's golden retriever vibe. Or maybe it's because you have about three minutes left until you're due at the restaurant. Either way, you walk up to the stranger and blurt out your piece.

"Hi. I know I don't know you and you don't know me but hear me out. This might seem like a weird proposition but how would you like to be my date for the night?"

When he lifts his eyes from the phone you falter a bit, caught up in the piercing green of them. He puts his phone into his pocket, his hands remaining there. There's a ghost of a smirk on his lips, almost as if he's trying to hide his amusement. You do your best to ignore the need to keep staring at him and continue on before he can answer, "the only catch is that you'd have to pretend to be my boyfriend. Oh and to convince our double date, my ex, of that tiny little fact."

"What's in it for me?" He drawls tilting his head.

"A free meal and the company of a stunning date." You sass, looking around for Brian and his girlfriend to hide the fact that you find his gaze so intense.

If this guy doesn't say yes, you don't know what you're going to do. You turn your attention back to him and look him up and down. You can't help but think that if this guy says yes, he would be the perfect date. He is definitely handsome even though a guy with shoulder length ink hair isn't normally the type of guy you'd go for.

"I'll do it."

You bring your attention back to those incredible green eyes, surprised. Although you thought you'd be relieved, you're just skeptical. What kind of creep says yes to a random stranger without asking more than one question?

You look up at him with a scrutinizing stare. "Really? Why?"

His lips spread into a dangerous smirk. His gaze rakes up and down your body and you feel your chest tighten but you ignore it. "Let's just say that I have an inclination towards mischief and this seems like fun."

You have the impression that he wanted to say 'you' instead of 'this' but before you can really process his answer Brian's voice cuts through the crowd.

"(Y/N), I'm glad you could make it!"

The stranger looks down at you with an arched brow, silently asking if you'd made up your mind even if you're the one who went to him with a question. You're a little infuriated that this stranger seems to have taken charge of the most random situation so easily but you're out of options. You mouth 'fine', hoping you didn't just bring a crazy person or a murder on your double date, and whirl around to face your ex. As soon as you face Brian and his perfect little girlfriend, you feel a large hand on your waist tugging you towards him. It's a possessive gesture that, although you know nothing about this man and you know that it's all fake, it sends a thrill through you anyways.

"Brian. Hi! Emily, how are you?" You try and greet them as cheerfully as possible.

"It's Amelie."

"Oh gosh I'm so sorry." You lie.

You hear the stranger let out a little breath that might have been a laugh and you feel pleased with yourself. You tell yourself that it's just because you're glad that this stranger doesn't seem like a complete snob, which means you've made a good decision, but really it's because you're glad that, in some way, you click with him. After all, who doesn't like to know they've got something in common with a good looking person? You've almost convinced yourself that you're not actually kind of attracted to the stranger when Brian interrupts your thoughts.

"I don't think I got your boyfriend's name last time we saw each other."

Neither did you.

You're about to rebaptize your date for the night when he pulls his right hand out from his pocket, "Loki. Nice to meet you both."

Brian looks just as confused as you feel. You tilt your head up to get a better look at the stranger but when you see the fake smile on his face - nothing like the one he gave you earlier - you remember that this shouldn't surprise you. You should have learned his name months ago.

Quickly recovering, you snuggle in closer and shoot Brian your best Everything's Good Here smile, "It's short for Lokene. His mother is Hawaiian."

"Why go by Loki then, Lokene?" Brian practically sneers the name.

You can't believe that the stranger's - Loki's - presence is already getting Brian to act like an ass, but you were glad it does. The stranger looks down at you, ignoring Brian's question for a moment, his eyes locking onto yours. His lips are curled into the roguish smile he had shot you earlier as if the two of you were sharing an inside joke. I guess you kind of were. "I was always playing tricks as a child, I guess my mother found it was an appropriate pet name. It just stuck."

"I like it." You whisper, forgetting for a moment that Brian and his girlfriend are standing right in front of you.

His smile drops, as if he's surprised by your words but he doesn't look away. You don't want him to either. You can tell he's observing you, almost as if he hadn't quite seen you until now. Just by the look in his eye you can tell that he's extremely intelligent. He sees more than his arrogance lets on and, although you're assuming, he must like it that way.

"Aww you guys are so cute!" Amelie gushes.

Loki peels his attention away from you and motions towards the restaurant, "shall we?"

You follow the couple into the restaurant, very aware of his hand now on the small of your back. The hostess leads you to a table towards the back of the terrace, in a slightly secluded area.

Loki offers to take off your jacket like a gentleman from the 40s but while he's doing so, he dips his head so that you can feel his breath tickling your ear.

"I promise you that this jacket isn't the only thing I'm going to take off you when we get home and walk through the door. I don't care if we don't make it to the bedroom." His raspy promise isn't very loud, but just loud enough that you see Amelie blush.

You can't blame her. His words send shivers down your spine too. He's playing his part too well. It's not like you're worried about Brian and Amelie not believing your scheme, rather you're wondering if you might get carried away in it too. You tell yourself that it's a ridiculous thought because you've just met him. Nobody is that good of a liar. You worry for a second that you may have brought a conman to the table but the worry goes away when you remember that you have to keep up the charade for an hour. You'll take anyone who can get you through it without a hitch, especially someone who exudes the kind of confidence he does. Whatever he is, you'll take it if it can get you through the night.

His eyes are still focused on you, calculating your response. You know he said that to get a reaction out of Amelie but you wonder if he did that to play games with you as well. If it's both, you know you're not one to lose.

"And this is why I keep saying I can't take you out." You pretend to scold before taking your seat.

You look over at Amelie and roll your eyes as if to say 'men'. She returns the look with a sheepish smile, reassuring you that although Brian may have just suggested the date to rub winning the breakup in your face, his girlfriend doesn't seem aware of that fact.

"So, Loki, (Y/N) said you were some kind of business man?" Brian asks once the waitress has brought all of your drinks and taken your orders.

Loki ignores the condescending tone and answers with a false smile, "I'm in the art business."

"Ooh! What does that entail?" Amelie leans forward with interest.

Your date slides his hand over to cover yours before answering, "I procure beautiful pieces and show them at galleries. Occasionally I'll sell a few. Although," he pauses just long enough to slide a look in Brian's direction, "I'm good enough at my job to know which ones are worth keeping."

You notice Brian's eyes narrow slightly and you twist your hand to interlace your fingers with Loki's. You had been sweating this date when you were on the train here, but you feel an arrogant smile spread across your lips. Your relationship might not be real but that doesn't mean you can't win the break up anyways. As if sensing the shift in your mood, Loki takes that moment to lift your hand and kiss it. If he realizes that Amelie is smitten by you, he doesn't show it and continues the conversation as if these little gestures are every day occurrences for him. "(y/n) hasn't told me anything about you, tell me about yourself Brian."

Brian goes on to tell them about his job as a small business owner and how, because of that he met Amelie, but you can't really focus on his story because Loki is drawing lazy circles on your thigh with his long finger. You've never had this much physical contact with a complete stranger without having any alcohol in your system but you tell yourself that you're okay with it. The act wouldn't be convincing otherwise. But you know you're lying to yourself because it would be crazy to feel so attracted to someone you know so little about. You're so caught up in thinking about this whole crazy situation that you don't realize that Amelie asked you a question until Loki speaks up, "love, Amelie asked you a question."

"Sorry, I got a little distracted."

"It happens all the time when they gets hungry, it has nothing to do with you Amelie." Loki smirks, as if he knows exactly what - or who - has you so distracted.

"Oh that's fine," Amelie waves her hand in dismissal, "I'm absolutely starved too! I can't believe the service is taking this long! I was just asking you how long you've lived in the city for?"

The food comes before you have the chance to answer.

"If you keep getting distracted like that, no one is going to believe us." He taunts in a low whisper. His hand leaves your thigh to place a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

You roll your eyes. "I think you've been more than touchy feely enough that I don't have to worry about it."

"Are you sure? I'm pretty sure you wanted to grab my hand when I took it off your thigh."

Amelie asks you another question before you can deny his claim, which is probably a good thing. Having your double date whisper to each other all evening probably isn't the best idea.

The rest of the evening goes by pretty quickly. Loki does an excellent job at selling your happiness together, so much so that you think Amelie has kind of fallen in love with him a little. Brian stopped talking about halfway through dinner and despite the fact that you learned nothing about the man sitting beside you, you grow accustomed to the little touches of affection he shows throughout the night. Loki picks up everyone's bills, infuriating Brian even further, and keeps his hand on your back the entire time you make your way out of the restaurant and onto the street. Saying goodbye to the couple doesn't take long and you're standing alone with Loki in the exact same place you met him.

You face him. You're standing so close to each other that you have to crane your neck to get a better look at him. Neither of you are saying anything but you can tell he's not going to by the slight crook of his lips. He's waiting on you.

"Thank you."

"You're very welcome."

His eyes are alight. He's looking at you like he did when you first approached him, which is distinctly different from the way he did all night in the restaurant. This doesn't feel like an act.

"Is Loki even your real name?"

"Yes."

You search his eyes for a lie but you don't see one.

"Like the Norse God of Mischief?"

"Exactly."

"Where are you from?"

"Around."

"The U.S?"

"Yes."

You think you see something flash through his eyes. You don't know why but you get the feeling he's not telling the truth, and as much as you want to let it drop because he helped you out tonight, you can't. It's not in your nature to let it slide.

"The way you manipulated Brian and his girlfriend was pretty exceptional Loki but that's not going to work with me. I know a lie when I see one. Also, the accent kind of gives it away that you're not from here."

His lips curl into a full on smirk, "Impressive. But I don't think you would believe me even if told you where I'm from."

"Is that so?"

He only nods.

"Try me."

"What do you say we go to your place and I tell you there?"

The proposition is so direct it surprises you. Your first reaction is to say no but you can't get yourself to say it. You didn't want to thank him and walk away earlier and if you're being honest with yourself, you don't want to now either. Like it or not, you want to know more about the mysterious stranger. You know it'll be interesting and, you don't do boring.

"Fine."

"Fine."

You lift your chin defiantly and order, as if it was your idea in the first place, "Follow me."

Part Two

[catch22inareddress]

Bodyguard Chapter Two Heavy

Words 5157

Previously:

He shook his head as he took off his jacket and draped it over the back of the chair. "No. Plus you aren't my normal job, and you're already in too deep. I'm not just going to leave you. I'll sleep out here and tomorrow we'll get your life back on track." You were about to protest and he slipped his hands in his pockets and sighed. "You know Tom right? You know what he will do to me if you're harmed?" He said it with his firm voice but when you looked at his voice you saw a smirk and the crinkled laugh lines near his eyes and it lightened up the mood. You got up and slowly walked to your room and looked back, there was no way you would win against him or the Hardy's. "Thank you, Sargeant Budd. I know this is probably a shit detail for you, and I --well thank you." He looked down and smirked before looking up with a straight face.

"I'd choose this detail over a twat politician any day. Call me Dave or David. Whichever you like. Rest...now." You smiled for the first time in months and closed the door to the bedroom. Before you went to lay down, you realized that he didn't have a decent pillow or blanket, suite or not. You took an additional pillow and cover and opened the door.

He stood there sans dress shirt and had just taken off his bulletproof vest. He had only his wife beater on, and you could see he was toned and had just the perfect amount of chest hair peeking out. He stood there just staring at you while you ogled him and only when he stifled a smile did your senses return.

"S-S-sorry. I just had some cushions and such for you." You nearly threw it at his head and rushed out of the room as you just heard him mutter thank you as you shut the door.

You were in trouble.... on all accounts.

The next morning you awoke and took a shower, got dressed and tried to make yourself presentable. The prospect of going home and putting your life back together gave you a bit of pep in your step. Last nights fumble of seeing Sargeant Budd in his boxers, no matter how snug they were, a distant memory. Today you had new obstacles to tackle.

You had packed your items and were about to leave your room when you heard a knock on the door and paused. "C-C'min" The door slowly opened, and David was dressed in his full suit, and you could see his sidearm peek out as he fully opened the door. "Looks like you've been busy, ma'am." You nodded at your fully packed room.

"I didn't want to keep you waiting. Please call me, Y/N." He gave you a tight unreadable smile, and you grabbed your bag to walk out the door. He swiftly stole it from you without a word and as you went to protest, he just smiled.

"My mother raised me better than that, and I'm not one to let a lady carry her luggage. Plus, I will warn you there is a lot of paparazzi outside." You sighed and then closed your eyes. "I should expect it. I've been hiding out here for a while. Also, thank you...." When you opened your eyes, he was staring at you intensely. "May I ask how long?" You were embarrassed actually to say it out loud afraid to admit how cowardly you had been.

"Two weeks." He looked at you but without pity and you saw his jaw tick in that mysterious way. You thought it was a way he tried to compose himself, but you were still unsure. You were finding it hard to read him, but you could blame that on it Scottish accent and the way he carried himself. Complete confidence was exuding from him, and you found yourself yearning to let the fear go and just give it to him, make yourself feel safe. When you were near him, your thoughts weren't of your current state, but you found them trying to decipher him. It was a relief to be out of your own mind, but at the same time you had just met him and that caused a whole new matter.

"Come. Let's get you home." You nodded and followed him closely. He handed off your bags to the hotel personnel and gently guided you by your elbow to the elevator. "Remember you go about your life as if I am in the background. I will be your eyes and ears to the surrounding. It's my job to keep you safe; you don't have to worry about him or anyone else for that matter. I will find him." You both looked ahead at the mirror in the elevator, but your eyes were trained on him, as were his on you. You broke the stare and looked to your feet and saw his hands in fists at his side. He was tense. You looked up discretely at the rest of him and saw that other than that tell, he was utterly poised to perfection, not even his breathing had faltered.

You saw about a dozen photographers outside that you had to walk through to get to your car. David gave you a reassuring smile and put his hand on the small of your back as he effortlessly kept all of the cameras out of your face and guided you to the rear of the vehicle. He shut the door and swiftly sat in the front with the driver, giving him directions to your home.

You closed your eyes and focused on your home and being able to sleep there and perhaps even read a few scripts. Would David be able to come with you if the stalker wasn't caught?? This plagued your thoughts as you were unsure how life was precisely supposed to get back to normal. You refused to hire an entire squad of random strangers to protect you. This was royally fucked.

He snapped you out of your thoughts with opening the door and guiding you inside the house. He did a full sweep to confirm it was safe and then room by room you went with him and checked for apparent changes. You found many. Someone had been there. Your bed had been slept in, and some clothes were missing. You had letters randomly hidden, and while you saw them, you immediately handed them over to David without reading a word. You could tell that they were vulgar as his jaw tick was becoming an easy tell when his anger was blooming.

It was late in the afternoon by the time the full sweep was done, and you were nearly breaking down. "I need a moment, please." He just responded by quietly leaving the area as you stood in the middle of your master bedroom in silence.

Six blood-stained letter were found hidden in your home.  Some man had invaded your house and slept in your bed. The locks were changed, and David assured you that he would not be able to get back in with the new security system also reminding you that he was staying in the guest room.

You took off your cardigan and threw it in the corner and stifled a scream. You started crying as you ripped the sheets off your bed and threw them in the corner. David had a courier go out and buy new sheets and pillows for you. You unwrapped them and said a silent thank you for that man who was so thoughtful. Yes, he was getting paid but only to protect you not to do things like this. Tom was right by introducing him to you, breaking down your walls to get David in.

As you went to throw your sheets in the wastebasket, you found another letter and against your better judgment opened it.

" Love,

You're mine. I know you are at that hotel thinking of me while I am here thinking of you. We will be together soon. You sheets smell of you, and it's not enough for me. I need you.

No one is right for you. I was made to be yours, and you are mine. Only mine. No man is allowed to touch you, taste you. I am the only one that can give you such pleasure. Think of me, darling.

We will be together soon.

Forever yours."

You let out a sob and just collapsed on the floor. Disgusting fuck. The door opened without a knock, and David rushed over to you as you were breathing hard and pulled the letter out of your grasp.

"Y/N?" He was knelt down and put his hand on your shoulder. "Please, just go. I don't want people to see me like this." You covered your face up and tried to shy away. He wasn't having that and took your wrist in his hands a bit rough as you wanted to fight him. He looked as upset as you were in that moment and it pained you. 

"Hey. Hey, love. It's ok. I'm no one. You don't have to pretend with me." Little did he know that you cared more of his opinion that anyone else. He was the only real person that you really knew as of late. In a world full of cameras and lights, he seemed genuine. An anchor and a tether and yet you knew nothing of him.

"Talk to me, darling. You read a letter? Yea?" You just weakly nodded and saw his jaw twitch and stared at him, observing him seemed better than the white noise in your brain.

"What?" His eyes searched yours, and you put your finger ever so lightly on his jaw, and his breathing quickened. "When you're angry you have a jaw tick." His face softened. "Well, I'm an angry person, love. You will see that tell more often than not." His brows pulled together for a quick moment then returned to his normal mask."What else have you seen of me?" You still had tears running down your cheeks as he picked you up swiftly and carried you over to the loveseat and sat you down next to him, tucked into his side.

"Your brows pull together when your stressed, conflicted or trying to convince me of something. When you want to say something but think better of it your lips pull together. That's all I can think of right now. When you are tense you white knuckle it." He chuckled. "You've known me less than a full day, that's pretty impressive, love."

You looked up at him. "Do you call all of your women 'love'?" His lips pulled together, and he ran his fingers through his hair. "No, I suppose not. I didn't realize I did it at first." You pulled away to look at his face more. "And now." He just looked at you. "I, um, seems as though I just did it without thinking. I'm sorry. I need to remain professional." He abruptly got up and walked out and left a coldness where his body was, and you cursed under your breath. You and your big mouth full of questions and curiosities.

The next few days consisted of finding a routine for the both of you. He remained in the guest room and true to his word he stayed professional. While he didn't call you ma'am, he didn't call you love either. Just a simple Y/N was all that you got. There was radio silence the first two days from your 'admirer' then on the third day he came back with full force. Flowers and presents of dead creatures. All by untraceable courier and the police were at a loss. By the end of the first week, there was a party that you decided that you were going to go. David got the security measures taken care of and promised to handle everything.

You came out of the room and found him in a black shirt and jacket and jeans, and you just took him in for the moment. His chest hair was going to be the fucking death of you. While you two remained professional, you had gotten to know him. Two sisters, from Scotland and he was rather close to his family and friends. He had known Tom while they were on holiday as kids every year after that would get together. You were internally gleefull that his accent was legitimate. He was in the military, and he admitted that he had trouble sometimes with civilian life. He left it at that. You talked about movies, and he liked comedies and was a fan of your films, to which he blushed when admitting he was a fan. He loved music but doesn't go to concerts anymore because of the tight quarters, as it causes him unnecessary stress. There were dozens of other things that you had grown fond of and countless details that he had given you about his life. You had considered him a friend, and you hope he did the same with you. However, you weren't blind to the feelings that you had for the gorgeous blue-eyed Scot. You were falling hard for him.

When he saw you, he was silent for a moment and then smiled. "You look lovely." It was the closest thing to being unprofessional when speaking to you since the first night in the house. He was careful not to use pet names or say compliments, and it drove you crazy. He felt so close and yet untouchable. Under different circumstances, you couldn't help but think that he would want you. Although, you came with a lot of baggage and for all, you knew he just wanted to get this job over and get back to his actual life. It pained you not to know if your friendship was true, mainly when you cared for him so.

"You ok?" He questioned, and you simply nodded. "Yea, just lost in thought. You look very handsome, David." He smirked, and his brow shot up. "I didn't want to stick out like a sore thumb tonight." You chuckled. "Well, a hundred bucks says everyone thinks you're my date." He looked flustered for a moment, and you loved it and smiled. "Oh, shit. S-sorry. I didn't think of that. I should probably change. I don't want people to think that you are with ...me." He went to take a step back and looked a bit ...ashamed.

Did he think that? You were slightly insulted that he would believe so little of you. That you would want to be connected or actually seen with him. He was the one that had built up this silly wall between you two and drew a line in the sand. "Don't be ridiculous, David. I know I'm just a job to you but any woman would be honored to have you as her partner." You linked your arm in his before he could object and he walked you out to the car and as he opened the door. "Wou-would you please sit in the back with me?"

You'd be lying if you said that you weren't nervous about tonight. You needed him to ground you, and he saw the doubt in your eyes, and he just nodded. He joined you on the other side and gave the driver instructions. "Talk to me, Y/N." You looked out the window but you had your hands on the seat next to you, and you felt his hand brush against yours. "Please, you don't have to hide from me. Remember?"

"He could be there tonight, and even if he isn't, I haven't been out to one of these in months. I feel anxious and nervous." You chanced a look at him, and his face was full of concern. He took your hand in yours. "They are your friends." You let out a humorless laugh. "A few sure. This life ..some of it is great, but most of it is just shit." He looked at you for further explanation.

"I love being in the now of when I read a script. Knowing what is needed and not having to make the decision, having everything laid out in front of me. The simplicity of it is alluring and addictive. I love having the funds to support organizations and help people." He leaned towards you, and you found yourself facing him, hand in hand. "The things I hate are feeling unsafe, and the chaos of it. While I do have friends, there are more fake people in this life than anything else. I've been going through the motions, and I just want something real, that I can hold onto. That can be my anchor. My mind has just been so.. heavy. I just want some normalcy. If anything the experience has made me feel a need to find someone that grounds me and loves me for me. Someone that can endure and survive this harsh environment and still prosper beside me."

He nodded. "You have had wild circumstances thrust upon you this past year, and they have led to you feeling as though you have lost control. I do not doubt that when we catch him your life will have the normalcy that your yearning for. Whether you're in your world or mine, friends can be real or complete shyte (shit). Just be true to yourself, love." It amazing how one word could calm you. He was quickly becoming the center of your universe, and you knew you were in too deep.

Before you knew the words, they came out quickly. "What do I do when we catch him? When you're gone?" He looked taken aback by the question and didn't know how to answer. You were sure that he didn't know what meaning lay behind the question and before you could clarify or let doubt take over, the door opened announcing your arrival at the party. David quickly exited and escorted you inside.

The party had some of your friends and some general assholes which you avoided like the plague. You found a longtime friend, Elizabeth Olsen and hid away with her, Lily James, Tom Hiddleston, Tom Hardy and Chris Pine. You had already introduced them to David, and he was facing the party but talking to Hardy and catching up a bit.

"So, he is absolutely gorgeous." You smiled into your drink. "He is. I-um..He's my bodyguard? Protection service." Liz knew about your stalker, but still, her eyes shot up. "They make them that hot?" You laughed hard and then hugged her close. "I missed you so much." She just smiled. "Well that's what happens when an ocean separates us, and a creeper takes over your life. So is this guy any good?" You nod your head.

"He's redone all of my security and kept me safe. I've gotten back to normal, mostly, but I'm reading a script, and I just don't know what I'm going to do if they don't catch him. I'm also fucking terrified of when he quits." She looked between the both of you.

"Oh, you're falling for him?" You shrugged pathetically. "Well. judging by his lovesick puppy routine, I would say he's got the bug too." You shook your head. "Fuck you. He does not; he's too professional. I can't tear down that wall." She smirked at you. "Pfft. The old Y/N could." You glared at her and her words to taunt you into making a move. You didn't have confidence with him, he was far too beautiful, and he didn't even know it.

You walked over to the men who were talking. "Hey there." You found yourself next to David and saw Hardy smirk at you, and you stuck your tongue out. "Real mature."

"You ok, love?" You nodded up into his baby blues and melted with his strong accent. This would be your last drink, even if it were only your third. He was intoxicating enough, and you could get drunk on him alone. "Thank you for this." He just smiled. "You can do anything you like, and I will make it happen. Like I said, I'll keep you safe."

Tom cleared his throat. "Told ya he was good at his job." He chuckled at his double entendre. David shook his head seriously at him. "No, that's not ..."

"Hey Y/N. Isn't that Scott?" You glanced up as Scott was walking over to your little group with a beaming smile on his face.

"Y/N!" He scooped you up into a hug and lifted you off the ground unexpectedly and it made you tense. "Scott. How are you? I didn't know you were back in London." He just had his ridiculously handsome smile on his face. "I just got in yesterday. I thought I would call you and see if we could get together for coffee."

You avoided answering knowing that you didn't want him. You wanted a specific, somewhat tricky, Scotsman currently glaring into your backside. You turned around and walked back to him. "Hey Scott, I'd like you to meet. David Budd." You gave him pleading eyes, and Tom just smirked and took a pull on his cigarette. "That's my queue to leave. Gotta get back to the wifey. Gents-Ladies." He let out a dramatic bow and walked off.

Scott grinned at David and put his hand out to shake Davids, and of course, the shake was firm and testosterone filled.  "Hey there. Nice to meet you, David. How do you know our Y/N here?" You tried to hide behind your hair, unsure if David would help you out or throw you at the feet of this handsome modelesque wolf. He wrapped his arm around your waist, and his hand gripped your hip tightly, you had to contain a gasp.

"We're dating actually." He smiled lovingly at you, and then you chanced a glance at Scott, and he looked skeptical. "Oh. How did you meet? I haven't heard that you were dating anyone." You shrugged. "I've been trying to lay low for a while. David here is a Sargeant for the MPD and works for the protection services department." Scott's brows arched up, and he nodded.

"So ...alright then. I'm happy for you. I know you didn't like the idea of doing long distance." You nodded and smiled. "Thank you, Scott. I hope that you have a great time in London though." He just agreed and then excused himself. "That was the guy that you dated before the threats started?" You nodded before you leaned into his broad chest. With your heels on you were just about the same height as him and you decided to wrap your arms around his shoulders lightly, for show of course. He kept his hands around you, and you took a moment to inhale his cologne and closed your eyes.

"Can I ask you something?" You hummed in response. "Why did you want to use me to get away from him? You know its not him, right?" You pulled away to look at him; your faces were so close that your noses were nearly touching.

"I know, he's a good guy. I just don't want a life with him, he doesn't ground me, and it doesn't feel right." You were hoping that he picked up what you were implying but before another word could be spoken your phone rang, and you picked it up.

"Hello"

"Are you in love with him?" Your eyes met David blue eyes and his single brow arched.

“Excuse me? Who is this?!” David's hand gripped your hips tightly as he pulled you close and searched the room for people looking at you and on their phone.

"Are you in love with him?!!" You breathing picked up.

"That is none of your concern! Now, who is this?"

"The man who is going to carve you up, you cheating fucking whore!!!"

The line went dead, and David took the phone from you.

"Hello?" No one was there, and he put the phone in his pocket. Liz came over to check on you. "I need to go home. Please, David. I can't let anyone see me break down." He took your small, fragile frame into his built one and made a swift exit. "I've got you, love."

In the car, you were silent, and someone managed not to cry, but the shaking was unavoidable. David took your hands in his. "What did he say, darling?" You shook your head. "Please, tell me? I'm here."

"He..He kept asking if I loved you. Then he said he was going to carve me up." His jaw was held firm his hands broke from yours, and he ran them over his face for a moment. "I'm sorry, part of this is my fault. He's enraged because he sees me as a threat. I shouldn't have---" You shook your head and crawled into his lap straddling him. "No, please. Don't push me away. Don't build the wall up. He's a crazy fucker, and he just wants to hurt me either way. With you or without you." You wrapped your arms around his neck and prayed that he would hold you. "Please. Please. Don't leave me." You didn't care how desperate you sounded.

After a moment his hands traveled up your hips and then tightly around your back. He nuzzled his face into your neck and inhaled deeply. "I'm not going anywhere, love. There is nowhere else I would rather be than here with you."

When you arrived at your house lifted you out of the car and led you to your room after he did a sweep of the house. "I'll check the rest of the house...I'm just in the other room if you need me, love." You nodded as he walked out of your room and you cleaned up all the while thinking of his fleeting hands on your body.

As you lay in your bed, you couldn't find rest. You decided the worst he could say was no and right now you felt it was worth the risk. You padded across the house and into his room, hesitating at his ajar door.

He stood at the window looking out wearing just boxers, and the moonlight made his body look even more enticing. You could see a scar on his side, but the shadows of the dark kept most of hidden and you weren't there to ogle him. Well not entirely.

He turned to you and stared at you walked over in your off the shoulder shirt and panties. "I can't sleep." He just stared at you as you walked closer to him and stood before him. Eyes were never leaving his. "You?" He shook his head. "No, I can't either." You nodded, and your eyes went down his body. You saw his military tattoo on his left arm, and your fingers found his skin by their own volition. His eyes closed as your hands danced across his body and firm muscles. When you found the rough scarred skin that was burned his breath quickened and his face looked tortured. He opened his eyes to you. "Military. The bomb went off; I shielded a civilian and ...got that." Your hands stayed on it, and he went to pull them away. "It's grotesque, I know."

You shook your head. "You don't know anything, Sargeant." You grabbed the back of his neck and pulled his lips to yours. His lips were so soft and plush against yours. They tasted like mint from freshly brushing his teeth, but he smelled delicious. Like cedar, leather, and body wash. His hands were on your hips leading you to the wall and then braced themselves on either side of your face, almost afraid to actually touch you.  He nibbled on your bottom lip, and you moaned out causing him to push his body flush to yours.  You could feel the rippled planes of his body against the thin fabric of your shirt. His thick muscular thigh wedged itself between your soft bare legs and you gripped his hair roughly. "Put your hands on me, please." He growled as his hands took your face in his palms.

I thought you'd see my body and .." He couldn't finish the sentence as his voice broke.  "Do you think that little of me." He pulled your lips to his again and kissed you thoroughly with teeth clashing. You only broke when air was needed for your pleading lungs. You foreheads were touching when he finally broke the silence.

"The only other person I've been with since I got out...she hated them. I had to make love to her with my shirt on." You looked at him in earnest and saw his conflicted and vulnerable state.  "She didn't deserve you. You are fucking beautiful and amazing." He laughed at your intensity. "You're an adorable kitten when your angry, love." You smiled. "I'll show you, kitten."

You kissed his clavicle and sucked slightly hoping to leave a little love bite in the morning. He kept his eyes on you as you body swapped places with his and pushed him against the wall.  You kissed down his thick torso to trail light kisses to his marred area that was undoubtedly sensitive to touch, and his breathing picked up. "Please, Y/N." His voice was tortured, and you came up to his handsome face. "You still don't believe me?" He looked away from you to stare at the wall, and you bit your lip.

"Touch me." His eyes snapped towards yours, and you kissed him deeply. Letting his tongue invade your mouth, devouring you and you moaned wantonly. You took his hand and led it to your clothed heat, and he growled into your neck as he dove in sucking and nipping. "Feel how wet I am, David?" He nodded into your neck, and you moaned as his fingers went past the fabric, in between your delicate folds. "Fuck. That's all for you. You are so fucking sexy." He pulled away and took in your flustered state and bit his lip. He took the hand away from you and brought it to his lips and sucked it clean. You whimpered and then crashed your lips into his and invaded his mouth passionately. You could slightly taste your arousal on him, but as he pulled your body as close to him as possible and gripped his hair, you were lost in him. At the moment. Heavy breathing, lost thoughts.

"Look at me, love." His eyes searched yours for answers to questions that he hadn't asked. " I want nothing more than to make love to you or to fuck you against this wall right now. I would love to be whatever you need of me. But tonight...can I please just hold you. I-we need to talk about a few things." He was so torn, and you knew that he needed this for whatever reason and you would give him whatever he demanded.

"Anything you need of me, David. I'm here, baby." He put his forehead to yours and then gently kissed you. He took your hand and led you to the bed, and he laid on his back. You curled into his side and hooked your leg over his, and his calloused hand gripped your thighs.

The last thing you remember before dozing off his him kissing your forehead and saying that you were safe.

As you woke in the early hours around 2 am you heard talking coming from the bathroom and climbed out of bed.

"I know. I know fuck. You're right. I told her I would talk to her tomorrow."

You could hear yelling on the phone, and you became concerned and were about to open the door to make sure David was alright.

"Tom, just look. I don't want to hurt her. I already gave Vicky the papers to sign."

" I care for Y/N, but I'm not right for her, you know that. She will only see a married man." You were gutted as you stood there outside of the bathroom. He was married and hadn't told you, was this just a game for him? Did he do this with all of his employers?

You were consumed with all of the thoughts screaming in your head as the bathroom door opened and David stood before you.

"Fuck, Y/N I can explain."

I HOPE THAT YOU LIKED THIS CHAPTER AND PLEASE FEEL FREE TO COMMENT. IM A SUCKER FOR COMMENTS AND ALL THAT JAZZ. PLEASE SEND ME AN ASK IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED OR GO TO THE TAG LIST HERE: LINK

LOVE TO ALL OF YOU SASSY READER AND THANK YOU FOR READING MY FIC! It's SUCH A HAPPY FEELING!!

Forever Tags

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[thirst-refinery]

Happy New Year {Triplet Ben x Reader} Pt. One

A/N~ As the title says Happy New Year everyone! In this last year alone this blog has come so far and it’s all thanks to you guys and I cant thank yall enough. I love each one of you! This is just part one of what I’m calling a Cinderella-esque au. I worked hard on this and would have quit after the first three paragraphs it wasn’t for Fae, so I gotta thank her for putting up with me and being the true MVP. I hope you guys enjoy this and once again, happy new year!

You didn’t want to be here in the first place and now; tucked away in a nook between the fireplace and nearest corner with a folding chair, you REALLY didn’t want to be here.

“I’ll stay with you all night,” Poe had promised. “We'll drink and eat our weight in expensive cheese, it’ll be fun!”

But five minutes through the door and Poe may as well have been the name of your imaginary friend.

Party goers draped themselves over couches and armchairs, positioned towards the flat screen mounted on the wall. Some you knew, most you didn’t. Half full champagne flutes and plastic plates adorned with cracker crumbs and nibbled cheese litter the coffee table, that someone’s child had conveniently fallen asleep under. The sheer volume of people contained in one house made the air uncomfortably hot and stuffy, the only provision of relief is the opening of the front door, allowing cold air to escape through, and the Pumpkin Spice candle glowing on the mantelpiece you could catch a whiff of every now and then.

Who even has time, or the money for that matter, to throw a party like this?

As if in response you find three portraits of identical boys, hanging over the sofa. Except for one maybe, the far left portrait shows a boy with blonde hair and glasses, but his face looks all the same as the others. Each one is perfectly posed and picturesque, looking like deities up there watching over their domain.

Yes, the Solo’s; they’re the only ones capable of pulling off a new year party for the entire city.

Digging the toe of your shoe into the living room's pristine white carpet, you listen to the background bustle of the party. The TV broadcasts Time’s Square, a girl’s shrill birdlike laugh, conversations about weather and new years resolutions, a glass breaks somewhere in the kitchen. Each sound piles on top of one another until a buzz becomes a suffocating roar in your ears. Maybe you should just leave.

“Well don’t you look like you’re having so much fun.”

A woman’s voice catches your attention. She’s short, greying hair tied up in an elegant braid that curls into a bun at the back of her head. She’s covered head to toe in party glitter and holds a glass between her slender wrinkled hands.

“I was actually just leaving,” you say standing from your seat.

A frown appears on the women's thin lips, “And leave all this?” she opens her arms to the party behind her, but you only shrug.

“Parties have never really been my thing. Besides, I don’t really know anyone here.”

“You sound like my son,” she pauses, tucking a stray hair behind her ear and looking past you in thought. “How about I introduce you to someone?” she finally says. “MATT, HONEY!”

The woman turns away, shouting over the noise before you could even protest. Curious eyes all over the room train on you and you found yourself suddenly wishing the floor would open and swallow you whole.

A young man appears from the kitchen with blonde curly hair and sporting glasses you’d expect to find in your grandfather’s drawer.

“My boy Matty will take good care of you, he’s a sweetheart.”

As Matt approaches his face becomes familiar and you can feel the watchful stares of the three smiling portraits.

Shit--

You’d come face to face with the party hostess herself and you hadn’t even known it. Not only that but she’d probably caught you digging your feet into her nice carpet; the upkeep for that cant be cheap. A quick glance down and you thank God you hadn’t left a mark on the white fibers.

“Matt, this is--” Leia trails off, you take it as your que.

“Y/N.”

Holding out his hand, Matt offers you a warm smile as you take it. “I’m Matt,” he says squeezing your hand hand gently rather than shaking it like you’d expected. “Nice to meet you.”

You nod, nearly forgetting your manners before stuttering out, “N-nice to meet you too.”

“Okay then,” Leia says retreating back through the living room towards the kitchen, her glass now empty. “You two have fun now!”

If you’d thought the portraits were intimidating, it was nothing in comparison to actually being in the presence of one of them. Solo is a name on everyone’s lips; with Leia Organa~Solo in congress and her husband as a renowned racing coach, who didn’t know of the Solo’s?

“So--nice party.”

Matt nods happily, sunny curls bouncing with the action. “Mom throws a party for every occasion! Oh, do you mind?” he holds up a camera hanging around his neck, “taking pictures is my job for the night.”

“Um,” you fluff out your hair, angling your best side forward. “I-uh. I guess.”

He smiles again at your display, finding you in the camera lense and adjusting it to focus.

Click

Matt looks at the digital screen and turns it around so you can see too, “Perfect.” he smiles again, something he seemed unable to stop doing. Had you not felt so intimidated you may have found Matt to be rather charming.

You’re suddenly interrupted by someone of similar stature and appearance, save for his dark hair that was barely long enough to hang in his eyes, and curled around his ears.

“Who’s this Matty?” his tone is almost teasing as he ruffles Matt’s perfectly groomed hair.

Another Solo, surely.

Matt doges out of his brother’s reach, patting his hair back down before responding. “This is Y/N.”

“Y/N?” he gives you a once over. “I’m Ben.”

Ben.

“Hi.”

Whereas Matt exude a gentle, meek kind of aura, Ben radiated confidence; like he was hot shit, and he knew it. His smile was like that of a movie star, flashing his teeth accompanied with a look that says he only smiles like that for you. Of course you knew that to be bullshit, he had to be giving everyone that same treatment; it’s part of his charm. This did nothing for your nerves.

Ben hadn’t taken his eyes off you nor had he said anything more; staring you down as if he expected you to do something, like a trick monkey.

“Do you want a drink?” he asks, tearing his gaze away from you to look around the living room.

Half of you wanted Matt to intervene in some way but he’d disappeared, probably to fix his hair.

“Okay.”

“Follow me, kid.” he says, sauntering through the maze of bodies and furniture like he owned the place, granted he did.

After fetching you a drink from the kitchen in his mother’s finest champagne glass, Ben lead you from group to group coagulating around his home. Gina, Debbie, Laura, Jessica, and something that started with a L; all from a sorority a few blocks away. Dan, Myra, and someone that was definitely a sasquatch; Family members of his mother’s colleagues. Group after group, Ben introduced you to people whose names you'd probably wouldn’t remember, and each time he filled your glass with more of that bubbling, silvery liquid you became a little more sure of that.

As it got later and Ben ran out of people to dangle you in front of, you found yourself on the Solo’s balcony overlooking their backyard. Below you the pool was covered for the winter season, a lonely looking set of chairs surrounding a table with a light blanket of snow over each one. Dead shrubs line the fence surrounding their yard and you can't help but to imagine what kind of parties they host down there when the weather is warm.

“You know, I’m never going to remember all those people.” you say, kicking back the remnants of your last drink, your head spinning as you set the glass down on a table behind you.

Ben shrugs as he leans over the railing, resting his forearms on the deck’s wood fencing. “Yeah, me either.”

“I don’t even like parties,” you started, “they’re so loud, and busy, and- and I wouldn’t have even come if it wasn’t for my dumb friend, but he ditched me and then your mom found me, and somehow I ended up with you.”

Ben tilted his head looking at you from the corner of his eyes as you rambled on and on, but he didn’t seem to mind; he was a little tipsy himself.

“And then we met all those people,and-um- I don't really remember what happened after that,  but now i'm here but you know something Ben?” you didn’t give him time to answer, “I had a really good time.”

He turns to you now, still leaning on the rail; more for support than anything else, his words lazily spilling from his lips. “You know what, kid? I did too.”

His statement made you warm inside, or was that just the liquor? You couldn’t tell anymore, you couldn’t tell anything anymore.How long have you been here? Where did Poe go? How are you getting home?

Wait a minute.

You looked over at him, “Did you just call me kid?”

He laughs, rolling his shoulders with a shrug, “I've been calling you kid all night.”

“You have?”

He pauses, “I think so.”

Leaning back against the railing, you let the cool air attempt to clear your head. Now you remember, he’s definitely been calling you kid. Like right before he’d told you to hold his glass so he could invite his much more athletic cousin to a handstand challenge.

“Shit.” Ben hisses under his breath, pushing himself up to his full height and adjusting his cotton blue t shirt.

Your first instinct is to look over the balcony, thinking he’s dropped something. “What?”

“It’s almost midnight.”

“So?” It was just a time, and here he had your drunken mind panicking.

“So,” he says looking back to the house in urgency. “I haven’t found anyone to kiss. You know, New Years and shit?”

“Oh,” your shoulders fell, relaxing back onto the rail. “Can’t relate.”

He looks surprised, perking at your words. “You’ve never kissed anyone on New Years?”

“No, why would I?”

“Because it’s- it’s tradition, like good luck or something,” he waves his hands around, grasping for the true meaning but comes up empty. “I’ve been doing it for years, find a girl, kiss her and never talk to her again.”

The thought is appalling. Why kiss someone you’ll never talk to again, it sounds almost sad and as he says it, his typically cheery self loses its luster; a certain kind of sadness is hidden behind his brown eyes.

“Well,” You check the time, 11:58; it was running out. “You can kiss me.”

Ben turns on you, maybe a little to fast because his tall frame sways twice before stabling out. “What?”

“You can kiss me,” You say again. “You won't find someone in time, especially as drunk as you are.”

You take his hand as he starts to sway again, and he doesn’t pull away. Instead he looks down at your joined hands, linking your fingers together before making up his mind. “Okay.”

From deep in the house you faintly hear the cheers of people as the ball drop began on tv. Ben stepped closer, hearing it too.

5

His free hand found the side of your face, cupping your cheek as you shuddered against touch.

4

Your eyes looked up to his when you felt his thumb brush your cheekbone. His eyes held admiration as they traveled your face, but maybe you were just being hopeful.

3

Taking this moment to memorize him, you noted each little freckle and mole decorating his skin, the way his haircut handsomely framed his face; that was probably intentional by design.

2

“Are you ready?” he says quietly, breath smelling sweet like the champagne you’d been drinking all night.

He licked his lips, you nodded doing the same.

1

That’s it. Ben presses his lips to yours, and you expect him to pull away just as quickly but he doesn’t, and suddenly it's not a simple New Years kiss anymore it’s something more. You can feel it. Fingers thread into his hair as he pulls you in closer, you whimper into the softness of his mouth. The dizzy feeling you'd had earlier was nothing like the spinning your head was doing now as you dived deeper and deeper into each other.

A firework explodes in the distance and Ben pulls away, you absentmindedly chase after him immediately missing the contact, but he’s too tall.

With cheeks tinted pink, and a little breathless, he speaks. “Happy New Year.”

[stunudo]

So Moved

A Criminal Minds Fan-fiction

Featuring: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Setting: Season 5

Requested: Anon

“(summarized)Okay so could you do one that’s Spencer x female reader where the reader has a remote control bullet vibrator thing and while her and Spencer are out he turns it on using his phone and she ends up getting pretty turned on and the fuck in the back of her car. (Or something along those lines??) please thank you!”

A/N: So I decided to incorporate a request into this on going series, I hope it works for the readers and the requester. Thanks!! I had part of this before, but I think the two ideas compliment each other. So much build up, it feels super long. Happy Smuturday! xoxo Stu

Catch up: Your Move, Move Me, Moving Along

Your name: submit What is this?

Pulling up to the curb in your Jeep, you saw the valets milling around the entrance, which was lined with shrubbery accented by fairy lights. The slight weight between your thighs rekindling the nerves over the evening’s persona challenge, that Spencer had orchestrated. The twenty minutes in the car had been an in depth discussion about what each of you were allowed to do in each of your parts. Spencer’s increased mobility had inspired a new role for him to perform, one that would be unique as it was used in public and among people who knew his true personality.

You clenched around the small device Spencer had slid inside you, forcing a polite smile to the acne covered face of the valet as you handed him your keys. You tipped him from your small clutch, ensuring a safe night for your treasured vehicle. Spencer stood on the sidewalk like a dream, a glint in his eye that meant he couldn’t wait to channel the character. His confidence was intoxicating.

Walking into the lavish banquet hall, you felt all the deviousness cloak your face into a mask of scarlet. You were Hester Prinn; the world would know all your indiscretions and Spencer was going to lose his job if you didn’t get a hold of yourself. How were you going to make it through dinner, let alone conversations like this? Spencer was slightly leaning on you as you had your arm linked along his cane hand.

“Breathe, Pidge,” Spencer muttered.

“Easy for you to say, you’re not the one, who, is, plugged in!” You scolded, scanning the room for the others from the BAU.

“I haven’t even turned it on yet, relax,” Spencer kissed your temple, “A lady exudes grace under pressure.”

“Well, this lady is a work in progress.” You snipped up at him.

“One who I have all the confidence in the world.” Spencer grinned as Penelope’s squeal drew your attention towards the bar.

It was during a quick trip to the ladies for Y/N, that Spencer decided to slide into his evening’s persona. Dining with his teammates, in character, would have made for an awkward attempt at best and at worst a round of tease the geek. Besides, what this character craved was attention from strangers, preferably single women. Y/N had used the most gracious of manners during dinner, adding to his determination to succeed in his part.

He found a small circle of women near a small bar at the far end of the hall; Spencer slowly ambled towards them. Smiling slightly as he ordered a whiskey, eavesdropping on the women’s conversation.

“What we need is easier access to mental healthcare for these people.” A curvaceous woman in a gray wrap dress said decidedly.

“Of course, but some of these people are just angry, Donna. That doesn’t stop any pissed off redneck from buying a semiautomatic weapon on a whim,” argued a tall brunette woman across from her.

Spencer chuckled under his breath, a familiar discourse without any clear solution.

“Do you think this is funny?” A petite woman accused Spencer, forcing the four woman to stare daggers his way.

“Not at all,” Spencer explained, “Gun violence in this country rose nearly ten percent last year, though homicides did decrease.”

“Then why were you laughing?” The offended woman remained wary.

“Because of her redneck remark,” Spencer smirked, “It isn’t that simple and stereotyping just pits more people against one another.”

“What makes you an expert?” The tall woman asked.

“I’m not an expert, but I am a member of law enforcement.” Spencer downplayed, drawing the group to him, inch by inch.

“What do you do?” The curvy one, Donna, brushed his arm, clearly interested.

“I work with the Behavioral Analysis Unit at the FBI,” Spencer explained, shifting on his cane.

“Oh god, did you get shot?! Is that why you are using a cane?” The petite woman gasped, the embarrassment clear on her face. Spencer nodded, shrugging it off like Morgan would.

Just then he saw Y/N approach, searching for him in the unfamiliar space. His cool stare caught her bright eyes and he shook his head slightly. She stopped in her tracks, taking in his audience. It took her a few beats, but she nodded calmly and returned to the table with their friends. The growing smirk on his face added to the spell he was casting on the group of women before him.

Walking away from a swarm of women surrounding your usually awkward boyfriend, was more difficult than it should have been. The urge to protect what was yours deeply seeded, causing you to lose focus on the game. When you returned to the boisterous BAU table, you sat down casually, failing at subtlety.

“Where’s Reid, Y/N?” Emily asked, her black gown was off the shoulder, showing her swan like features.

“He’s chatting up some ladies by the windows.” You explained, as unaffected as possible.

“He what?” Derek spun on the spot, “Do I need to go save him? Before he gets eaten alive?”

Penelope was already fussing over you, you smiled reassuringly over at her as you answered Derek, “Don’t bother, he’s having more fun than he should.”

Rossi strolled over with gusto, drawing the group’s attention away from your solo return. As you peered over your shoulder at the gaggle of women, which had actually increased to five, dolled up and fawning over your boyfriend, Spencer sent you a message.

‘ready?’

He had leaned back, listening to the group, but clearly keeping you on his radar. The anticipation had already seeped around the silicon device clipped within you. When you nodded, while laughing at something the group had found funny, the vibrations sizzled through you.

The heat from the attention added to his efforts, the usual clamminess turned into resolve as he brought out his magic tricks. Spencer had turned the somber social debate into a lively chat, using his cane as a sly way to bump into the women, without actually touching anyone. Donna was practically eating out of the palm of his hand when he pulled a paper boat out of her friend’s hair. Spencer needed to sit to best watch Y/N, so he feigned leg pain and made his way over to a small cluster of lounge chairs.

The intimate setting had thinned the crowd, leaving only the three more talkative ladies to follow the charming doctor. He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear which had fallen from his top knot. He stretched back, placing his phone on his lap as he absentmindedly spun his cane in his opposite hand.

“So, Dr. Reid?” Donna began again, “Do you work with David Rossi, the author?”

“Of course, the whole team came to support one of our founding members. To be honest, I am surprised he came back.” Spencer teased.

“What do you mean?” Ashley asked, the tall brunette.

“Nothing, never mind.” Spencer toyed with them, while his fingers delicately turned the toy’s setting to rolling pulses in Y/N’s slit. The women huffed, the petite one, Karen, practically pouted. He overplayed it, “I don’t want to say anything against an institution, like Rossi, but,” He whispered, “The team was doing fine without him. I am very capable, when I’m not injured, of course.”

“I’m sure you’re very capable, either way.” Donna gushed as Ashley giggled nervously at her friend.

“Aw, thanks, Donna.” Spencer locked eyes on her chest, making sure that Y/N caught his blatant overstepping, before wiggling his eyebrows at the flirtatious stranger.

The buzzing from the toy had to be audible, the sensations were growing that intense. You rocked forward to cross your legs as you changed positions, you rested your face upon your hands, trying to focus on the story JJ was telling. She wore a draped silver gown that showed off her toned arms. Spencer had been goading you with his eyes from across the vast hall, his arrogance was growing, as was your justifiable jealousy. You trusted him, you trusted him, you said it over and over to yourself. But if that bimbo in the gray touched him one more time, lady or not, you were ready to throw down.

Then the toy clicked off, a minute of reprieve. You exhaled raggedly, but the rest was short lived. The peals of tingling soared through you, once more, you squirmed and whimpered slightly. Derek leaned to whisper in your ear, “I think your phone is buzzing, Y/N.”

You gave the charismatic man a grateful smile and excused yourself to take the call. There was no call, the sound Derek had heard was the contraption that Spencer was effectively torturing you with. You clenched your walls around the toy and stood determinedly, walking to the hallway leading towards the exit. Once you were alone you fell on to a decorative double-sided chaise, your legs giving out from the onslaught of pleasure Spencer was conducting from his mobile app.

Your nipples itched in their confines, your breathing hitched as your muscles spasmed against the overstimulating rhythms. You inhaled deeply, trying to focus on other parts of your body than your throbbing bundle of nerves. You attempted to slow your heart rate when a real phone call came through. You dropped your clutch twice before wrenching the phone from the narrow pocket.

“Yes?” You gasped.

“I’m sorry I must have the wrong number,” Spencer’s voice taunted.

“Oh, I’m sorry, may I help you?” You tried to get back in character.

“I can’t see you, Y/N, that was one of the rules.” He wasn’t angry, but his voice was husky, sending chills down your back.

“Spencer, don’t be mad.” You begged, a slight moan escaping your throat as he increased the speed of the toy. “I had to step away to take a phone call, Derek could here it buzzing.”

“So let him. I want to watch you hold yourself together, Y/N.” Spencer cooed.

“I thought you were busy, those tits can’t watch themselves.” You spat, the jealousy and vexation building as you were kept at Spencer’s mercy.

“Never mind what I watch, Y/N. As long as you are coming home with me, there is nothing to worry about.”

“Spence, if we don’t go home right now, there is going to be a whole lot to worry about.”

“Y/N? Where are you?”

“In the side entryway, uh, Spen-en-encer?” You moaned.

“Stop it, I’m on my way.”

In an instant the toy stilled within your walls, but your core’s pulsing against its slick surface continued. You tried breathing through it, shifting your legs, but your thighs quaked despite your efforts. Finally Spencer ambled in, his eyes suspicious.

“Give me a minute,” You begged, holding your hand up to keep him back. Your breathing had regulated but the tension inside you had snowballed into a ball of unfulfillment, lodged in your lower stomach. “Should we say anything to the team before we leave?”

“I’ll text them on the way home.” Spencer said offhandedly, he held out his hand to you. You gently placed your hand in his, allowing him to guide you to standing. He pulled you into him, like a dancer, the heat of his body calling to you. He glanced down into your eyes, whatever he saw there changed him, his voice softened and his lips floated over your forehead.

“Oh, Pidge, I didn’t know this would be so hard for you.”

“Over-stimulation or the jealousy?” You challenged. Spencer held you at arms length, easily profiling your frustrations.

“I had a whole seduction planned,” Spencer chuckled, “I wanted to sweep you off your elegant feet in front of all of those insufferable flirts.”

“Yeah?” You asked surprised, “Well, if we don’t do something about this thing soon I am going to cum or cry, can’t be too sure which.”

“Let’s get you home, my lady.” Spencer hooked his free arm around your waist, directing you both towards the brightly lit patio and the cool night breeze. You both hobbled along, for completely different reasons. The unseemly valet eyed your approach, spinning your key ring on his finger repeatedly.

Spencer’s debonair side took over, slipping the young man a bill, “If we could be led to the car ourselves, the lady and I could use a little, discretion.” The teenager eyed you and Spencer, a blush and enthusiastic nod in response as he rushed head first into the dark parking ramp.

Settling between her twitching thighs, Spencer’s steady fingers plucked the soaking pink toy from Y/N’s sex. He carefully wrapped it in his handkerchief and pocketed it, for later clean up. His strong hands stroked her, trying to soothe as he gently blew shocking streams along her folds. She was holding such tension inside her, he worried she would get a headache or be unable to climax. His pride over his charismatic routine dwindled as he saw how the attention on others hurt her.

No matter how she tried, she couldn’t hide it all from him and his years of experience. “Oh, sweetie, let me take care of this.” Spencer bent down to trail kisses along her inner legs. She caressed his face with her soft palm, her breathing hitching again. The extreme angle in the backseat of the Jeep leaving them huddled together.

“I thought tramps did as they pleased?” Y/N asked cautiously. Spencer nestled against her calming touch, his eyes closed in pleasure.

“I tried too much for one night, I pray that my lady can forgive my ambition.”

She smiled as his hungry lips found her damp creases, the heat coating his mouth as he cherished her body and silenced her mind. Watching her, watch him take her, was the greatest aphrodisiac. Spencer shivered with lust and returned to work. The slightest lick sent moans through her, his usual techniques were softened, allowing her to unfold the layers of tension she had been holding, one by one. Spencer knew once she was on the brink, but he needed her to tell him. He wanted her to know he was doing this for her, that her needs mattered first. He hummed quietly as her hips bucked back, “Is my lady ready?”

“Yyyes, ready and waiting,” Y/N whispered. With a thorough broad tongue-stroke, Spencer finished her. Growling against her clit as she mewed over the precipice, the clenching of her muscles pulling her hips further into a seated position. Spencer used his rented jacket to clean his hands and face, waiting for his lady to speak her mind.

The release did little to sate the hunger inside you, your core craved to be filled. You ignored your aching body as you dove for Spencer, mouth crashing against his, sucking, nipping and biting to be closer to him. His body had responded and you soon were dragging his pants down, leaving him bare-assed on the backseat of your Jeep. His injured leg was improving but not enough to balance in such tight quarters, so you slid diligently across his lap rising to your knees as his firm cock was directed beneath you. You kissed him fiercely as you enveloped him. His head flew backwards with the tightness around him, you started building a rhythm as you watched his face contort with his pleasure.

“Does my lord need to play with any other maidens?” You challenged, pinching his chin and dragging his jaw to catch your glare.

“Your lord was a scoundrel and a fool, my lady.” Spencer’s strong thumbs found your nipples through the sheen of your dress.

“Are these tits enough for you?” You demanded, pinning his palms over your breasts with your hands. Spencer didn’t answer, but buried his face in your cleavage, leaving love bites over each crest. He wrenched the dress down, freeing your aching nipples for his cursed tongue to lather. The wet and warmth of one nipple and not the other caused the spiraling to return to your abdomen, you deepened the grind with each roll of your hips. Suddenly he bit your breast, the pain mixed with pleasure sent you reeling, calling out his name in shocked gasps.

He hummed in satisfaction, “My lady is the only maiden I desire,” he bucked against you, holding you at arms length to increase his angle. You fell against the driver’s seat back, but ignored it. “Oh god, Y/N, look how you ride me. How could I ever want anyone else?” You moaned, his thumb trailed over your jaw, filling your mouth. You sucked deeply on the digit, clenching around Spencer’s cock in time.

He grunted genuinely and you coaxed him over, teasing his thumb with your tongue and teeth. His desire filled you and still you continued to ride him, drawing everything from him he had left. You buried his face in your chest as you slipped off of his cock, claiming him and treating him at the same time.

Suddenly a buzzing sound came from Spencer’s pocket, you both laughed, guessing the toy had turned itself back on. Then a gentle rapping on the driver’s side window. Too exhausted to move and too embarrassed to crack the window, you called out into the hushed night.

“What is it?”

“Y/N? Could you move your car?” Penelope’s chipper voice asked. “The way the valets parked, you blocked us all in.”

@reidsexualwriting @dontshootmespence @cherry-loves-fanfic @bookofreid

[fireflysummers]

MOB PSYCHO 100 FANFICTION Job Offers

Serizawa outgrows Spirits and Such.

Nobody is happy with this.

There’s a man in a tan suit, exuding the same oily persona that Reigen does at times, but with far greater amounts. For some reason, he sets Serizawa’s teeth on edge, makes his skin crawl, and he makes a conscious decision to put Reigen between them.

They meet on the sidewalk, outside of a supposedly haunted house. The client is so sure of the haunting that he’s hired two psychic agencies, to ensure that the building is ready for renovations.

There’s no spirit there. Serizawa knows this, and nods at Reigen to make sure that the other man knows as well. All this has become routine, a familiar pattern that he can slip into, and try to forget the other man accompanying them of their tour.

The exorcism is, of course, uneventful. Reigen throws salt, the client pays in cash up front, and they part ways.

Or at least, that’s how it was supposed to go.

“Hey.” The other man’s voice stops them before Serizawa and Reigen can begin the walk to the train station. “You, tall one. You’re the real deal, aren’t you?”  There’s an unspoken implication that Reigen, however, is not.

The client is already long gone, excitedly giving the green light for tomorrow’s renovations. There’s no danger to Reigen at the moment, but Serizawa’s skin crawls as the man speaks.

“Oh?” Reigen turns and crosses his arms, eyes narrowed and calculating, sizing the man up in every way.

“You know he’s a real scam artist, don’t you?” the man continues, ignoring Reigen altogether and sidling up to Serizawa, close enough that he can finally feel the other man’s aura. An esper, for sure. A weak one, but he too is the ‘real deal.’

“I mean, I am too but everybody in the business—all the real espers, that is—know your boss is a fraud. He was all over the news back last October. You’d have to be hiding under a rock not to know that.”

Serizawa wants to respond, but his mind stalls, trying to process this information.  His mind flashes back, cataloging dates, wondering how he could possibly have missed this. And then it occurs to him that eight months ago in October, he had indeed been living under a metaphorical rock. Or an umbrella.

“All I’m saying is that you don’t have to hang around this guy, if you don’t want to,” the man gives him a sleezy grin, and with an oily slick motion slips a white business card into the pocket of Serizawa’s suit coat. “Our agency is always happy to bring new espers on board. Put your powers to good use, stop wasting your time with wannabes like this hack.”

With that, the man shrugs, turns, and leaves. Serizawa watches him go, still too stunned to properly register everything he’s been told. It takes him a moment to realize that Reigen has already begun walking, leaving Serizawa to jog to catch up.

 When they get back to the office, Reigen immediately sits down at his desk. He’d barely said a word on the way home, uncharacteristically quiet with hands eerily still at his sides. There’s an expression in his eyes that Serizawa can’t place, one that he doesn’t like.

The expression doesn’t fade as Reigen clicks away at his laptop. Doesn’t fade when Serizawa brings him a cup of tea.

As Serizawa turns away to return to his usual place to do homework, Reigen catches him, a hand resting on his forearm.

“Hold on,” Reigen says, actually getting to his feet and motioning for Serizawa to take the seat. “I…well, I should’ve shown this to you earlier, but I don’t really like looking at the files myself.”

Confused, Serizawa sits awkwardly behind Reigen’s desk, using the mouse to peruse the folder Reigen has dug from the depths of his archives.  There are about two dozen pdfs and a couple video files, all dated within a couple weeks of each other.

He doesn’t want to look.

He doesn’t know what is in those files, but he doesn’t want to know.

Serizawa feels his stomach clench and wants more than anything to return to his usual seat, but Reigen is watching him expectantly. So Serizawa swallows his anxiety and begins clicking through the archive.

They’re newspaper and magazine articles, and television news reports. With each successive report, Serizawa clutches tighter at the mouse, a nearly foreign rage rising from somewhere inside him. The final video, cut short by the explosion of electric lights and the destruction of news cameras, does nothing to set it aside. When at last he closes the file, he sits there in utter silence, trying to wrestle down his emotions enough to speak.

Reigen beats him to it.

“Sorry that’s…real bad,” he confides, and there’s a grating honesty in his voice that rubs against Serizawa’s skin like sandpaper. “I really should’ve told you before, I guess. Waiting until I didn’t have a choice makes me look sketchier, but well…” It’s never a good sign when Reigen flounders with words.  But his distress only serves as fuel to Serizawa’s anger.

“Look, Serizawa,” Reigen says at length, “I’m not an esper.”

The silence stretches out between them. Reigen’s face is entirely closed now, waiting for a rejection he’s resigned himself to.

Serizawa lets out a long breath, the hot air hissing between his teeth.

“I know,” he says, forcing himself to continue while Reigen gapes at him with eyes wide. “I  mean. My last job…I was supposed to find and fight espers. Some are better at hiding it than others, but…I can tell you aren’t one, Mr. Reigen.”

Reigen opens his mouth once, twice, an excellent impression of a fish struggling. And then he deflates, head bowed and cradled in his hand.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, “I thought that’s why you were…”  Reigen sighs, and straightens. “It was all right, in the end, you know. Business went through a little boom after Mob’s little show of power at the press conference.”

“Besides,” he finishes, “I really…did it to myself. I was lucky Mob decided to come back and save my sorry ass.”

It’s really not all right, but Reigen is clearly done talking about it. He’s jumping topics again, faster than Serizawa can follow.

“So, a job offer!” Reigen says brightly. It takes Serizawa to catch on to what he’s talking about. When he does, he swears he can feel the little white business card burning in his pocket.

“It’s not really a job offer,” Serizawa mutters, ashamed that he hadn’t immediately thrown the card away.

“Of course it is!” Reigen says, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’ll be graduating from high school soon, won’t you? You should probably start thinking about where you’re going to go then!”

Oh. Serizawa thinks, his stomach dropping.

It’s not like he hasn’t considered it before, envisioning a nearly boundless future where before he had none. But it’s always been a daydream, and hearing Reigen say it feels…wrong.

“Don’t get me wrong, you’ve always got a place with me!” Reigen says, backpedaling, “It’s just…the world is your oyster! You should live while you’re still young!”

Serizawa doesn’t want to point out that Reigen’s rehashing one of the speeches he uses on Shigeo-kun. Doesn’t want to point out that Reigen is younger than him, but doesn’t seem to have any grand visions for his own future either.

But instead, he agrees politely and excuses himself from Reigen’s desk to go back to do his homework.

For the rest of the afternoon, the business card feels like it’s burning a hole in his pocket.

 Serizawa is one semester away from graduating high school, and people are pointing him towards a career counsellor.

He doesn’t like the woman, with her stern eyes that peer out from rectangle glasses.  He’s wearing his normal business suit, but the way that she eyes him makes the familiar fabric feel…claustrophobic. Uncomfortable.

He has to physically stop himself from squirming, or worse, from pulling back into his shell.

(He finds himself desperately wishing that Reigen had accompanied him.)

“Mr. Serizawa, you have…quite a resume,” she says at length.

He knows he does. He and Reigen had worked hard on that single page document, fleshing it out to bring out his prior ‘work experience’ without screaming to the word ‘reformed terrorist.’ It’s still too vague, he suspects, but he’s sure as hell not going to discuss those four years of his life with this woman here.

“So tell me, Mr. Serizawa,” she begins again, after several seconds of silence, “Your current place of employment is…Spirits and Such Consultation?”

“Yes,” he nods, glad that she’s picked on the one line item he’s comfortable talking about.

“It’s not really…well. I’ll just come right out and say it. You’re going to have a difficult time finding a job, based on that alone.”

Serizawa sits in stunned silence, reeling from the words. The way that the woman speaks makes it sound like the consultation is shameful.  It’s not, he knows that as sure as the sun will rise, but her judgmental gaze still causes a blush to begin dusting his cheeks.

“You have a lot of potential, despite your late start in life,” she continues, “But I think you should consider seeking an internship somewhere, perhaps, to add some more…professional line items to your resume.”

“That aside, I would really suggest you look into careers with a little more stability. A small office like the one you work at must be barely compensating you, let alone offering benefits of any sort.”

That should feel like another dig at Reigen and his business, but this time Serizawa stops short. It’s true that he’s not paid much, but that’s never really bothered him before. He has funds left over from his time in CLAW, as well as a small inheritance left from by his mother. It’s not much, but he can live comfortably in his small apartment, and use his income from Reigen for food.

But Reigen…doesn’t have that luxury, he realizes now. Spirits and Such is his only source of income, and while business has picked up��� he thinks back to the jokes he’s heard Kageyama’s brother make about how stingy the con man is, never compensating Shigeo-kun for his work. Thinks back to clients with little to nothing, who had their fees waived entirely. Thinks back to the meals Reigen has bought him after stressful days.

Thinks back, and for the first time wonders how much kindness costs.

The thought sits heavily in Serizawa’s stomach.

He barely makes it through the rest of the meeting, nodding vaguely at everything the counsellor says.

Back at the office, Reigen seems excited to hear about his talk with the counsellor. Normally, Serizawa would assume that it was the man’s normal excitement about his overall progress. Or at worst, that Reigen wanted to hear how well he’d done editing the resume.

But now, with thoughts of finances lingering over his head, the enthusiasm feels…different.

He leaves that day, ashamed that he did not notice sooner.

 He’s not going to work for that consultation office.

Or any consultation office, if he’s honest with himself.  The very thought feels like betrayal.

And that aside…if he’s going to leave Spirits and Such, he’d like to try something new. Something that doesn’t depend on his psychic abilities.

Even if it’s as dull as a desk job, it’s still something.

Secretly, he hopes to find something close to Spirits and Such. Close enough, maybe, to catch Reigen staying late at the office. Close enough to have plenty of excuses to take him out to dinner, in part to return the favor, and in part because…

He shakes the thoughts out of his head, and tells himself to focus on the tasks at hand.

 In the end, he finds a job. It’s well paid (compared to what Reigen has been paying him at least), but it’s a good distance from Spirits and Such.  He decides to take it though, after a long streak of bad luck. It turns out the counsellor, as condescending as she was, hadn’t been totally wrong about the state of his resume.

Reigen seems positively overjoyed when Serizawa presents to him the official offer letter, smacking him on the back and offering to take him out for a drink later. Unfortunately, Serizawa’s classmates had again beat him to it, and they’d had to reschedule for later in that week.

That, however, never entirely panned out because suddenly there was so much to do. And before Serizawa knows it he’s putting the few personal items he leaves at the office into a box, preparing to spirit them away to his new place of work.

Reigen helps, where he can, but clients come in and out as Serizawa packs, distracting the man. Soon, Serizawa runs out of ways to stall, and is left clutching his box and announcing his eminent departure. The office is blessedly quiet at that moment, and Reigen gets up from his desk and wanders over to where Serizawa stands, a strange knot of anxiety in his gut.

Reigen stands back a little ways, observing him with a crooked grin. There’s pride in his eyes, and the enthusiasm that he’s shown non-stop for Serizawa’s progress, but also something…else.

That something vanishes the moment Reigen begins to talk, vanishing into his exuberant words and rapid hand gestures.

“You got everything?” he asks, peeking into the box, “You sure you don’t want the stapler, to remember me by?”

“I’m not leaving for good, Reigen,” Serizawa replies, almost automatically.

“Sure, sure,” Reigen shrugs, tone unconvinced. “Either way, it’s the start of a new adventure, Serizawa! You should be proud of yourself!”

And he is. He really, really is.

If he’d told himself, not long ago, where he stood at this moment in time, his past self would not have believed him.

It feels good.

(Except that it doesn’t.)

That something has returned to Reigen’s demeanor, and he gently reaches a hand out, placing it on Serizawa’s shoulder. The look in the other man’s eyes is…calm. Placid, almost eerily so.

“You’ve grown up,” he says, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re going to be amazing, Serizawa. Text me, and we’ll get drinks, okay?”

“Thank you, Reigen,” Serizawa hears himself say, and almost in a daze, turns and leaves.

 The world outside is bright, almost blindingly so, but Serizawa barely notices. There’s no spring in his step, no feeling of a excitement for the unlimited future ahead. His thoughts are jumbled again, but amidst all the mental noise Reigen’s farewell continues to ring.

You’ve grown up.

It takes him a moment to place where he’s heard Reigen say that before, in that same way.  

The video of the press conference.

He’d only seen the video that once, and at the time had been so furious he could barely hear above the sound of his own heartbeat. But that’s when he’d said it before, right before the film was cut short in a show of psychic powers.

He remembers Reigen’s sparse explanation.

I really…did it to myself. I was lucky Mob decided to come back and save my sorry ass.

He’d been so, so angry at the time…angry at the cruelty of the people that Reigen had helped. Angry at the jealousy of other self-proclaimed psychics towards him. Angry that anybody would go out of their way to hurt Reigen so deeply.

He hadn’t even paused to wonder how this could have happened.

He hadn’t paused to wonder why Shigeo-kun hadn’t been there in the first place, supporting his master as he always did.

He hadn’t paused to wonder why Shigeo-kun had to come back. That there had ever been a time when Shigeo-kun had left.

He’s probably overthinking it.

Except that, it’s not too late to check. Just in case.

With a split second decision, Serizawa whirls and almost sprints back to Spirits and Such.

 The office is exactly as he had left it, when he arrives. There’s something off, though, because he swears he hears a soft, watery gasp as the bell chimes to announce his return.

Reigen isn’t at his usual post, though, and the laptop is folded down and silent. It shouldn’t be hard to find him, but it takes a half second too long for Serizawa to spot where he sits on one of the couches. Reigen seems…smaller. He’s curled in on himself, so tightly that it looks like it hurts.

Of course, he immediately shifts when he hears the door chime, flying to his feet and stretching to make it look as though he hadn’t been hunched into a corner just a half second prior.

“Serizawa!” Reigen says, voice suspiciously thick. He clears his throat and manages to start the next sentence off with clearer tone. “I didn’t…did you forget something?”

“Yes,” he replies, slowly. Serizawa is watching Reigen’s face now. Eying red, puffy eyes and blotchy skin. Eying tear and snot tracks that had been hastily and unsuccessfully wiped away.

“Ah well. We’ll get you fixed up in a jiffy here,” Reigen confirms, nose obviously still a little stuffed. “I’m just…going to go make myself some tea.” He wants to escape into the kitchen area, Serizawa realizes. To compose himself. “You go ahead and look around for…whatever it is.”

“Reigen!” Serizawa’s tone is surprisingly sharp, desperate. He sends the box he’s still holding off, spinning away from him with idling psychic power. He crosses the space between them, hand outreached in an attempt to close the distance even faster. He manages to snag the sleeve of Reigen’s coat.

The other man has stiffened, eyes suddenly panicked. Before, there had been a chance that he could slip away to compose himself without anybody noticing his grave error. But now the signs were far too clear.

“Sorry,” Reigen says after a moment, “I didn’t…you weren’t supposed to see me like this.”

“Reigen,” Serizawa breaths, slowly adjusting his grip until both hands settle on Reigen’s shoulders. Still, the man does not look up at him.  The floodgates have been opened, the last bit of self-control vanished. Try as he might, Reigen can’t hide the returning tears.  He’s still mumbling though, watery words (mostly apologies), slipping out almost faster than Serizawa could follow.

“It’s pathetic, I’m sorry. I’m pathetic. I promise, I’m happy for you, I’m really happy for you, please don’t think…” his voice cracks a little, voice lowering to a whisper, “Please don’t think I’m trying to force you to stay here.”

One of Serizawa’s hands moves from Reigen’s shoulder, raising Reigen chin until their eyes meet. Or should meet, but Reigen still stubbornly looks away.

“Arataka,” he says at last, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Reigen jumps at the sound of his first name, and finally, finally returns Serizawa’s gaze. He’s searching for something, Serizawa realizes, and hopes desperately that Reigen finds whatever he’s looking for.

Except he can’t risk that, this time.

So instead, Serizawa bends down, planting a gentle kiss on Reigen’s forehead.

The other man gives a shuttered gasp, but instead of pulling away he leans in, closing what little space is left between them.

Encouraged, Serizawa gives another butterfly kiss. Then another. Slowly, gently. Down from Reigen’s forehead, down the bridge of his nose, down his tear-streaked cheek.  The tears have stopped now, though, replaced with wide-eyed shock and the awkward hitching-breaths that come after a good cry.

He pauses, a hair’s breadth from Reigen’s lips.

“I’m sorry,” he says, suddenly deeply ashamed, “I thought you wanted…needed me to go.”

Reigen’s mouth meets his, preventing him from apologizing forward.

And for once, there are no more words. Just the two of them, holding each other tightly, terrified at the thought of how close they’d both come to letting go entirely.

[bugaboosandbees]

Duchess Noir Part 4

Okay, to all who have requested an alternate version of my Reine Ruse AU where Adrien doesn’t learn his lesson and Chloe ends up with the black cat miraculous, here you go! The first three parts of this Duchess Noir AU are simply the first three parts of my Reine Ruse AU. This AU diverges from that one in chapter 4 when Adrien refuses to recognize and work to fix his mistakes.

What do you all think, should I go back and just change the titles of my previous Reine Ruse posts, or should I repost them with the Duchess Noir heading and make two separate masterlists? Thanks in advance for your opinions, and I hope that all you guys who wanted even more salt in this mess enjoy this. :)

Shoot me an ask or a message if you’d like to be tagged in this or if you have any more ideas for things I should write!

Plagg

“Can you believe this Plagg?” Adrien bit out as he grabbed several tissues to staunch the bloody nose that was still oozing despite the long run across the Parisian rooftops he’d had to get back from the Grand Paris Hotel. “I can’t believe that Chloe, of all people, would equate me with those people! She just doesn’t understand!” Pausing in his tirade, Adrien looked around, eyes finally landing on Plagg who was floating, deathly still and with slitted eyes, in the place Adrien had detransformed.

For his part, Plagg was furious. He couldn’t believe he’d let matters escalate this far, but he honestly hadn’t been aware that his kitten’s mindset had gotten this warped. He knew the kid wasn’t the best at decoding social cues and he’d felt sorry for the boy alone in such a cold home so, yeah, he’d given the kid a couple more passes for behavior than he might have given another chosen. He might not have been the best Black Cat he’d ever had, but he wasn’t the type to go rogue and try to destroy the world, and he didn’t hurt Plagg -- all things considered, he’d had much worse wielders in the past and the kid just seemed so lonely… He’d thought that after the whole debacle with the akuma that flooded Paris that things had more or less resolved themselves and, to be honest, he’d never paid much attention to his kitten’s banter with Tikki’s bug. If he’d only paid more attention… Shit, this really wasn’t his strong suit. Tikki was much better at getting through to people. He knew screaming at Adrien would just make him shut down… he needed to be calm, which would be hard.

“Did you ever consider,” Plagg offered in a level voice, “that she might have been right?”

 If things hadn’t been so serious, Plagg might have cackled at the poleaxed look on Adrien’s face. “What?!”

“Kid, just listen to me,” Plagg sighed. “Let’s go with a hypothetical situation here. Say you were partnered with someone while modeling, and you only worked with that person. You saw that person as your best friend, and you had to rely on them in order for anything to work out at your job. You really like this other person outside of work, but you can’t say anything about it because you don’t want people who know about your job to harass them. You’ve told your partner this, more than once, but they still insist on telling people that the two of you are dating or that you’ll come around to their charms eventually. They derail photoshoots and events by flirting, and you have to do most, if not all, of the work in your partnership. You’re just trying to keep your head down and get your work done, but your partner gets more and more pushy until it’s gotten to the point where they attempt to physically chase and restrain you to demand a date. Adrien, kid, you’re a great black cat, but, please tell me that you see that that’s not a healthy relationship.” Plagg maintained eye contact with his kitten, doing his best to exude the sort of calm and understanding presence that came so naturally to Tikki. Please, please listen to me. At the rate things were going, if Adrien didn’t stop what he was doing soon, he’d throw off the balance too far and Plagg would need to take the miraculous back. And Plagg knew, better than anyone, how much Adrien needed Chat Noir. Please, kid.

Adrien looked down at his hands. They sat there for what felt like ages in silence as Adrien thought and Plagg watched over his kitten. He’d never admit it, but the ancient god felt his heart break in his chest when Adrien looked back up at him, anger in his eyes. “You don’t understand either.”

Marinette

Any sense of safety that she’d felt evaporated the second she swung off of Chloe’s balcony and into the night. Marinette took the most roundabout way she could think of home, glancing over her shoulder almost more often than she looked ahead and scanning the surrounding rooftops with wide-blown eyes. When she finally detransformed and collapsed on her chaise, she breathed a sigh of relief. She could feel Tikki huddled in the space where her neck met her shoulder as she took several deep, bracing breaths. Once she felt calm and safe again, she looked up at her room and at the dozens of posters and pictures of Adrien crowded across its walls. She’d considered taking them down for a few weeks now, as Adrien’s inaction against Lila had dampened her crush. But now… She looked down at Tikki and sighed. “This was never healthy, was it?”

Tikki met her eyes with the infinite compassion Marinette was still baffled that she could always count on and hardly felt she deserved and gently shook her head.

“I…” Marinette paused and firmed her jaw. “No. I’m not going to be like that anymore. I’m not going to be like that ever again.” And as the stars above Paris shone down on a city that slept, its heroine moved methodically about her room, taking down posters and schedules and computer backgrounds. When she finished, it looked… empty, but a healthy kind of empty full of promise and possibility. She could already think of so many ways to fill the space she’d freed… but that would be a task for tomorrow.

She felt her eyelids drooping as she crawled into bed and flung one arm over her face. What had happened that night felt so surreal. Then again, the past several weeks had felt entirely like a waking dream -- or nightmare. Since Hawkmoth had appeared and she’d become Ladybug for the first time, she’d had to upend her worldview completely, but she’d done that, she’d gotten used to the way things had become. Since Lila arrived back at school everything had been turned on its head once again and Marinette could hardly tell which way was up and which way was down anymore. Alya hadn’t spoken to her kindly in days, her partner was becoming a terrifying stranger, and the only place she felt safe was with Chloe Bourgeois, of all people. She still wasn’t sure why she’d gone to Chloe’s balcony that first night or why she kept returning. Chloe had made her life miserable for years, had beaten down her self-confidence to such an extent that she’d had no one before Alya and had tried to cut her down at every turn for as long as she could remember. Those feelings of anger and despair hadn’t just disappeared -- but things were so complicated now… She didn’t know what she felt about Chloe anymore. Well, that wasn’t necessarily something that she had to sort out immediately either. She’d take this one day at a time, and, if Chloe kept improving and really turned into someone she could truly rely on, well, then she’d think about what it would mean to forgive her.

She’d cross that bridge when she got there.

Tikki

Tikki gazed down at her sleeping chosen. The determined frown she’d worn while removing all traces of her obsessive crush from her room had faded as she fell asleep. She couldn’t help the proud feeling that welled up in her when Marinette had confronted her own flaws when faced with the more glaring example of her partner’s. She would have been totally within her rights to have let the crying jag that passed at Chloe’s continue longer than she had, but she’d demonstrated true Ladybug strength yet again and learned from another awful situation what she could. Still, the extent to which Plagg’s kitten had damaged her trust in him was worrying -- on both sides of the mask.

Tikki heard a whimper and glanced down to see her chosen’s face twisted in a nightmare. “Chat, no… why?” she whispered brokenly. Tikki’s face hardened. That was it -- this had gone too far. She was going to Fu. She planted a small kiss on Marinette’s forehead and flew out the window into the night.

She hadn’t even gone a block when she saw Plagg. He was, as she had only seen a handful of times in their eternity together, crying, and he held the ring of the black cat in his paws.

“Plagg?” She questioned gently.

He started when he noticed her and rubbed his eyes. “Hey Tikks,” he sighed.

“What happened?”

“I tried to reason with him Tikks, how he treated your bug wasn’t right. I’m sorry that I let it get that far… he… he wouldn’t listen to me. He won’t acknowledge his faults and that’s playing havoc with the balance. I… I had to take it from him. I waited until he was asleep. He was so lonely Tikks. I know he had a lot of faults, but I… I didn’t want to leave him.”

Tikki wrapped Plagg in a hug and for a moment they simply drifted, silent above the sleeping city.

“We need to find you a new chosen -- Ladybug can’t do this alone.”

Plagg sighed. “I know.”

“But first,” Tikki felt a wave of uncharacteristic anger threaten to bubble over, “We need to have a talk with the Guardian.”

Master Fu

Wang Fu suddenly shot awake. He looked at the window beside his bed -- it was still the middle of the night. Why? He felt an urgent pull inside his chest, below his breastbone. He was being summoned? What had happened? He quickly turned toward the miracle box and was met with the sight of the kwamis of creation and destruction staring solemnly at him. He could read anger in the downturn of Tikki’s eyes and sadness in the way Plagg’s head hung low over his body.

“Tikki? Plagg? What is wrong? Why have you come here without your chosen?”

“The boy you chose to wield the black cat miraculous broke the balance between Plagg and I’s wielders. He has betrayed my chosen on both sides of the mask and just tonight he hunted her across the city in what appeared to be an attempt to physically force her to reciprocate his feelings. You have allowed him to continue in a dangerous mindset unchecked for too long.”

“But --”

“No,” Plagg interrupted. “She’s right. I tried to reason with him, tried to teach him, but he won’t listen to me. He’s closed off our bond, though he doesn’t realize it, and he’s broken the balance entirely. I know the reasons that you chose him for the ring and, for a while, despite his faults, I honestly thought that you made the right decision. But he was so lonely, Fu. You chose a wielder that needed to learn in order to work effectively but who refused to listen to anyone but himself.”

“Now, listen. I cannot justify the risk of bringing in a new wielder this late into the battle against Hawkmoth!” Fu was certain that this was a misunderstanding -- he’d made the right decision with Adrien, he was sure of it.

The air in the room stilled and he suddenly found it harder to breathe. Tikki’s eyes narrowed and she began to glow as she loosed some of her aura into the space. “Cannot justify the risk?” her voice echoed in a way that did not fit her size. “What about the risk to my chosen? You may be the guardian of the miracle box, but you forget that you were never formally trained. You forget what your mistakes have already cost. You are not infallible. You are not a god. And that was not a request.”

Fu trembled before her. “V… very well. I shall choose a new --”

“We shall choose.” Plagg broke in.

“Forgive us if we have lost faith in your judgment.” Bit out Tikki. “And Wayzz?” she acknowledged the turtle kwami that had been waiting, frozen, in a corner of the room for the first time. “Make sure he actually thinks about this mistake.” She met Fu’s eyes one last time, conveying a sense of disappointment and disapproval that almost brought him to his knees, and then wrapped one small arm around Plagg’s shoulders and they flew out the window and into the night.

Chloe

Chloe Bourgeois couldn’t sleep. Her confrontation with Chat Noir played over and over again in her head. Her nails dug crescents into her palms as she thought about the proprietary way that the cat had talked about Ladybug and the fear in the heroine’s eyes as she’d tumbled into Chloe’s apartment and run to hide. An uncomfortable pang of guilt ran through her as she thought of her friendship with Sabrina before she’d abandoned her for Lila and her previous self-serving idolatry of Ladybug. No. There was no use feeling guilty for her past mistakes. She would apologize, and she would not make them again.

She only wished that she had the power to make her apology to Ladybug mean something more, that she could actually protect her, rather than only being there to pick up the pieces that Hawkmoth or Chat Noir had broken. She started as she heard a soft knock on the glass pane of the balcony door. Rising from her bed, she padded over to see Ladybug’s kwami waiting outside her window with a stormy expression, alongside another kwami, so dark he blended into the night, with piercing green eyes, and… cat ears. Chloe opened the door as quickly as she was able and gestured the two inside.

“What’s wrong? Is he…?” She questioned. If Ladybug’s kwami was here without her, what could have happened? If that cat had gotten her akumatized… And if the other kwami was who she thought...

“Many things,” Tikki replied, “but nothing urgent. There is not an attack, and Ladybug is safe.”

“Then why --?”

“She is safe for now.” The other kwami cut in. He looked like he was struggling to get the next words out. “You’ve seen that her partner has demonstrated that he is almost as present a danger to her as Hawkmoth emotionally. She needs help that she can trust, someone to stand by her against all threats no matter how hard or dangerous things become.” He stared directly at Chloe. There was a pressure behind his gaze that was almost physical, and Chloe fought to not flinch. “Do you think you could do that?”

It took Chloe a moment to register the question. Did she? And then a vision of Ladybug’s eyes, still full of tears, flashed inside her mind. She met his gaze evenly. “Yes.”

For a moment, all was silent as the dark kwami stared into her soul. Chloe could only hope that the tiny god found something worthwhile there. Eventually, he nodded.

“Very well then.” He held up a silver ring in his paws. “Chloe Bourgeois, I am Plagg, the god of destruction. This is the miraculous of the black cat. It represents one half of the universal balance and it grants you my dominion over destruction. You will use it to be Ladybug’s right hand, her shield, her friend, and her support as she will be yours. You will reveal your identity to no one. If at any point you forsake your duty to your partner and to the balance, I will reclaim the miraculous and ensure that you never forget your mistake. Do you understand?”

Chloe’s heart was beating through her chest. “Yes.”

Tikki

Tikki landed on the small pillow that Marinette kept beside her bed for her use. She looked at her charge once more. She only hoped that she and Plagg had made the right decision. They didn’t have time to scour the city for a new wielder that was suited for Plagg and the list of those that they knew well enough to consider who would work well with Marinette had gotten much shorter since the arrival of the liar and the discord she had sewn across Marinette’s relationships.

“Don’t worry Marinette,” she mumbled sleepily, “things will turn out all right.” Her eyes drifted close, and she let herself sink into a restful sleep, heartened by the fact that there was now someone she could count on to protect her chosen when she could not.

[onceuponamirror]

heart rise above

///// CHAPTER 3

summary: It wasn’t an experiment with freedom borne of some Americana fantasy; rather, a road trip of purely logistical intentions. The plan was simple. Drive from Boston to Chicago for his sister’s college graduation. That’s it.

Or, he drives a Ford Pickup Named Desire.

Mechanic!AU

fandom: riverdale

ship: betty x jughead

words: 11k

chapters: 3/?

[read from the beginning] [read the latest]

Oh, mirror in the sky What is love?

.

.

.

He and Archie settle in next to each other as the tow truck roars to life. The Barbie Grease Monkey behind the wheel flashes them a bright smile once they're buckled in and starts to turn out of the diner parking lot.

“So the hotel is actually really close by,” she says conversationally. “Riverdale is a good town to walk in.”

“Great, considering we don’t have any other options,” Jughead grumbles. He fidgets next to her, hyper aware of his knee bouncing dangerously close to her own. How the hell did he get stuck in the middle seat?

He thinks he hears Betty inhale sharply, but the rumbling of the truck masks it and he’s not sure. Regardless, he’s definitely pushed her buttons already. And normally he wouldn’t care, but given she went through the trouble to give him a good deal and what he suspects is a rush job, he feels a bit bad about his attitude. It’s an unfamiliar emotion.

(Though, speaking of the unfamiliar, he’s still stuck on figuring out why a perfect stranger would be so plainly altruistic.)

A few minutes later, they pull into a little motel that exudes the same wholesome nuclear family vacation atmosphere as the diner. It’s inexplicably called the Flamingo Inn, but for what purpose, he has no idea, as there isn’t a palm tree or even a lawn flamingo in sight.

Betty cuts the engine and looks over at them. She pulls a business card from her breast pocket and a pen from the truck console and flips it over, scribbling a phone number on the back. “Here’s the garage number and my personal one, in case you need anything. It’s mostly just me at the garage right now so I’m there a lot, but on the off chance I’m not around, you can always try my cell. I open at 7.”

She passes it to Jughead, and he takes it with nimble fingers. Last time he’d touched her, he’d gotten a bit of a static shock, and he still isn’t quite sure what to make of it.

“I’ll come by tomorrow morning to fill out the paperwork. Have a good night. Thanks,” he sighs, grabbing his bag and following Archie out of the tow truck. Betty waves at them from behind the wheel, and then disappears back onto the road. He stares after the Ford jangling off the back until it’s out of sight.

Archie nudges him in the ribs. “Dude, she’s totally into you.”

Besides the fact that he’s confident that he’s offended her twice over already, instincts tell him that’s highly unlikely. Jughead scoffs and readjusts his duffel over his shoulder. “Yeah, I’m a real catch. A drifter with a defunct truck and freshly out 2 grand.”

“She gave you her personal number,” Archie insists knowingly as they head towards the inn.

“Because I’m paying her to fix my truck,” Jughead replies, rolling his eyes. “You think every conversation with anyone of the female persuasion is a veiled flirtation. But, my man, a girl like that does not go for a guy like me.”

“A girl like that? So you like her.” Archie grins, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Jesus Christ, Arch.” Jughead exhales noisily. “Just because I can acknowledge that she’s pretty and it’s cool that she knows her shit doesn’t mean I’m out shopping for diamonds.”

“I didn’t say anything about diamonds,” Archie laughs. “We’re stuck here for a few weeks. Have a fling, buddy.”

Jughead doesn’t have anything to say to that, partially because he doesn’t feel like defending himself against their polar perspectives on relationships once again. While he wouldn’t be so disloyal as to call out Archie’s unsustainable dating habits to his face, it’s not the first time he’s silently reflected on the trouble it causes. More trouble than it’s worth, in Jughead’s opinion.

“Well, I’m going to get Veronica’s number, if we’re sticking around,” Archie says after a long moment, without much tactful dodging of implication. “Here for a good time, not a long time.”

“Ugh, which of Reggie’s tank tops did you steal that slogan from?” Jughead mutters, approaching the front desk. The benefit of a small town motel is how cheap it is, and they can afford their own rooms. He’s thankful he won’t have to spend the next three weeks trying to wax poetic over the cavemen snores of his best friend.

That is, if he’s actually able to get any writing done.

He and Archie bid each other goodnight, and then he throws his bag down on his bed. He flops along next to it a moment later, bouncing slightly on the springy mattress. He falls backwards and scrubs his hand over his face, the last hour of his life catching up to him.

He stares at the ceiling and tries not to think about his bank account.

Despite blaming his habit of penny-pinching his way through life for this current problem (too cheap for A/C, too cheap to get the truck checked out anytime recently) he’s also grateful for it in this moment, because it means he’s got the flexibility to cover the truck repairs—even if it feels like he’s signed a death certificate for his savings.

But he knows it’s the deep-set irrationality of a kid raised on food stamps, and tries to tell himself that he had a good year for royalties, and he’ll be okay.

And Betty gave him a deal. Maybe it was just out of pity, or maybe she’d actually overpriced the estimate in order to seem like she was being generous. History tells him that, nine times out of ten, people are swindlers and liars—and yet, she turned her big green eyes on him and the next thing he knew, he was agreeing to half a new engine.

Betty. He hears Archie’s teasing in his thoughts again and tries to force it away. He’d meant what he said—he’s not blind, she is pretty, and she did seem genuinely nice and, rarer still, just genuinely genuine.

And sharp, he adds thoughtfully. She definitely knows what she’s talking about. And that little streak of grease above her eyebrow was cute.

He catches himself. What is he doing? Who is he, Archie? “Snap out of it, you idiot,” he mutters to himself. He’s not here for a fling, whatever his friend might say.

He muses that also it’s a big leap to presume a girl as cool and pretty as her is single, and anyway, there were two small children with a resemblance running circles around her. What if she’s married and takes off her ring while she works? What if she’s a single mom? No one would pick him as a father figure by choice, and anyway, he’s leaving town in over a fortnight, so he decides it’s best to assume Betty is beyond an option.

Besides, the only reason he agreed to stick around this hole in the wall of a town is because he’d had the first inspiration in months sitting in that diner. Hopefully, something is in the water here, and he’ll actually make some headway on his sequel.

Sighing, he decides he’s no longer got any professional wiggle room to avoid his editor and reaches for his laptop. He shoots off a reply to her notes on his first few chapters (“Well written, JP, but where’s the poignancy from the first book? Why should we care? Needs more work.”), telling her that he’s planning on scrapping what he has and moving the setting to a small town.

Once that’s done, Jughead looks around, unsure what to do with himself. It’s still early by his standards, and he feels wide awake. He glances at the clock, deciding to call his sister, knowing that the whole Jones family shares the same night-hawkish tendencies and that she’s probably still up.

She answers after a few rings. “Josh and JB’s house, JB speaking,” she says.

He almost drops the phone. “Who the fuck is Josh?”

Not that he’s trying to be some sort of overbearing Freudian figure, but their one rule is that they don’t keep secrets from each other. If JB has been dating someone long enough to move in within them, he’s downright offended that she hasn’t mentioned it.

“This is my iPhone, dumbass, I’m kidding,” his sister says in a mocking tone that he recognizes well. “Not a house phone. There’s no Josh. It’s just me and Chad.”

He pauses, unsure if she’s making another joke. “Still kidding,” she says, when she realizes he’s waiting for her. “Like I’d date a Chad.”

“I don’t think either of us are in any place to judge romantic partners based on their given names, Forsythia,” he points out.

JB groans loudly over the speaker. “Sorry, I suddenly went deaf and didn’t hear that,” she replies coolly. “Anyway, what’s up? Where are you guys right now? How’s the road trip going? How’s Archie? Did you remember to bring the extra duffel?”

“Uh, yep, I did, I brought it. Archie’s…good. We’re in upstate New York now,” he says slowly.

“You’re using your ‘JB, the bunny went to live at a farm’ voice.”

“The truck sort of…died on us,” he admits, chewing on his lip. “We’re stuck in East of Jesus for now. Don’t worry,” he adds quickly. “I’m not gonna miss your graduation. I’ll take a plane if I have to. I’ll even personally blackmail Richard Branson for his jet if it comes down to it.”

There’s a pause over the line. “You’re getting the truck fixed though, right?” Her voice sounds oddly small. “That was our family car.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry, JB. It’s in good hands. I found a mechanic who knows her game.” He tosses his hat across the bed and runs a hand through his hair while releasing a long breath. “We had some good times in that truck as kids. I’m not giving up on it that easily.”

“You’re such a sucker,” she says fondly. “But we did have some really good times, didn’t we? Hey, remember when Hot Dog took a shit on the blanket Dad kept in the back of the truck?”

He chuckles. “Of all the memories, that’s the first one you bring up?”

“Memory, from the latin root mem. As in: to remember—as in: memorable,” JB replies.

“So you did take my Latin dictionary.”

“Whatever, you’re getting it back when I move in. Anyway. I’m gonna try to actually get some sleep tonight. I’ve got a final tomorrow. Keep me posted, and call me when you’re Chicago bound. Love you.”

“Love you,” he echoes. “Good luck on your final,” he adds, but she’s already gone.

.

.

.

After getting off the phone with his sister, Jughead tosses restlessly for a few hours, mostly tortured by the childhood memories formed in the back of that truck. Their dad taking turns too wide, just to make them laugh as they swayed around in their seats. Camping out in the truck bed with their dog. The three of them driving JB to out Chicago to start college.

Of course, they haven’t all been together since.

With that thought, Jughead kicks off the sheets and angrily pulls on his pants, frustrated that he’d let his mind wander back there. JB is right; he is a sucker.

There are plenty of bad memories associated with that truck too. Taking the turns too wide was dangerous. They camped out in the truck the week the electricity was shut off and their dad tried to make it fun; convince them the stars were the only lights they needed.

And he hasn’t seen his father in over two years. It won’t do him any good to romanticize the past.

Besides, he’s getting the damn thing fixed. What else does he fucking have to do to appease this self-tormenting part of his personality?

It’s barely sunrise, but Jughead decides he’s going to go for a walk to try to clear his head. He throws his laptop in his saddle bag at the last minute, in case he gets another random burst of inspiration. He regrets not going for his laptop earlier, when he’d had the bug to write. If he’d pushed himself, he might’ve found his character’s missing motivation.

He ends up wandering back to the diner, which is already open. However, up close he realizes that it’s actually a 24-hour establishment. “Oh, you’re gonna hate me,” he says gleefully to himself, breaking for the door.

The same round-faced man from last night is behind the counter cleaning milkshake glasses with a white rag. He waves. “Hey! I remember you. Chips, pickles, and fries, right? Back for more?”

Jughead grins, and takes his pick of booths, as he’s quite literally the only person in the restaurant. It’s 5am, so he’s not shocked. A familiar-looking dark-haired and older woman appears to take his order and once she’s gone with instructions for pancakes, and as many as she can carry, he settles into his seat and stares out the window.

His eyes find the parking spot where his truck had met its maker and he thinks about how young JB had sounded when she thought it had been gone for good. It made him feel sixteen again, wrapping her up in his arms while she wailed and begged him once again to tell her why their mother didn’t come back.

Words he still doesn’t have die on his tongue.

He hadn’t realized the truck was important to her too. Betty promised it would run for another ten years with new parts, and while he does technically believe that’s what she thinks, he also just isn’t the type to put all his eggs in one basket. He should probably just try to learn how to fix the damn thing himself at some point.

Later, after he’s polished off as many pancakes as possible (and without a visitation from his muse), he decides there’s only so long he can sit twiddling his thumbs in the diner. Betty won’t open for another hour, but since he’s on foot, he might as well start to head over.

He pulls Betty’s business card from his pocket and enters the address into his phone. While he waits for it to load, he flips it over and stares at her number. He still thinks Archie is wrong about Betty’s intentions, but then again, his best friend does have a lot more experience in picking up women and he wonders if Archie understands something he doesn’t.

Not worth it, he thinks firmly, trying to dismiss the thought. Occam's Razor. The answer is always simpler than it seems. She's just fixing my damn truck. Google Maps hands him an arrow, and he distracts himself by following it.

The garage isn’t far from the diner, just over a mile, and the walk is surprisingly pleasant for a town the size of his neighborhood in Boston. He ambles his way towards the garage, unsure if he should prepare to be attacked by small children. Sure, it’s early morning in the middle of the week, but he’d been watching those two kids out of the corner of his eye last night, and they seem like the kind of perfect little hellions he has learned to avoid.

“Uh, hello?” He calls, when neither children nor Betty come into view. He’d expected to have to wait for her to open, but the doors are already rolled up and there’s soft music emanating across the garage, so he suspects Betty is in here somewhere.

“Be with you in a sec!” Her voice responds from—well, from somewhere, but Jughead has no idea. She sounds close by, but as he scans the garage, she’s nowhere in sight.

There’s a clanking of metal hitting the ground and the sound of wheels moving, and then Betty pops out from under the carriage of a nearby Volvo on a rolling dolly cart. She blinks up at him. “You’re here early.”

“So are you,” he counters, raising an eyebrow. It’s not even 6:30 yet.

“Well, birds and worms,” Betty sighs, pushing herself upright. He offers his hand to pull her up, which she takes. He doesn’t get the same static shock as before, but still has a moment to note the juxtaposition of calluses mixing with her soft skin.

Once she’s standing, she takes a moment to dust off her uniform. She’s wearing the big blue jumpsuit again and Jughead briefly wonders what she looks like under it. “Let me just change out of this blue teletubbie suit and I’ll be with you in a jiffy. Do you mind waiting for me in my office? It’s in the back, over there.” She points to a room with large windows overlooking the garage.

He nods, and she scurries off. He makes his way over the office, lingering momentarily in the doorway, as he’s unsure whether or not he should stand outside it. But Betty had said to wait in the office, so he crosses the threshold.

The room itself is somewhat small, or perhaps made to seem that way by all the framed photographs and children’s drawings plastered all over the wall. Jughead wanders over to her desk, where the collection only grows.

There’s one of her and Veronica, one of whom he assumes are Betty’s parents, and a large picture with what seems like all the redheads in the tri-state area. Betty stands next to the only other blonde woman in the photo, and he spots the children from last night, though they seem younger here.

“That’s my sister and the Weasley family she married into,” Betty says from the doorway. Jughead jumps back, realizing he’d been tracing a finger along the edge of the frame.

He looks at her, having gotten the answer to what Betty looks like under the uniform. She’s wearing blue jeans and a soft pink top that brings to mind the word fluttery, even though it’s just a cotton long-sleeved t-shirt. He can’t help but glance down at her hands—no ring.

He glances back at the photo; the other blonde woman is wrapped against a tall, redheaded man. Maybe the kids aren’t Betty’s after all. He clears his throat.

“So the two changelings from last night…”

She laughs, and he finds he likes the sound. “My sister’s kids. I was babysitting. I love them, but—never mind, I’m sure you don’t care. Have a seat,” she says, gesturing to the pair of armchairs in the back of the office. He pulls one up to her desk while she fiddles with a cabinet drawer, thinking perhaps that he needs to work on his attitude. He probably doesn’t care, but does she already think he’s that much of a dick?

But then she hands him a couple of forms and a pen, and he loses the train of thought as he sets to work. He puts them down as he finishes each one; he can feel her eyes on where he’s written his given name.

“Whatever you’re gonna say, please don’t,” he mutters, glancing up at the way she cranes her neck. She immediately looks embarrassed to have been caught. “It’s a dumb name.”

(Then again, he actively introduces himself as Jughead, so he’s never been quite sure what his glitch is.)

“I don’t think it’s dumb,” Betty says kindly. “I think it’s nice that you’re the third.”

“Well, it dies with me, that’s for sure,” he sighs, putting down the last piece of paper. He looks up expectantly; she’s watching him with a curious expression that he doesn’t know quite how to place. He wonders if he has something on his face. Or maybe he already did something wrong with the paperwork. “Anything else?”

“Oh,” she says, taking his papers and passing him a new one. “Nope, these look good. Here’s your written estimate.”

He takes it from her, waiting for a moment, as it seems like she’d like to say something else. But then she doesn’t, so he takes it as his cue to leave.

Jughead pauses in the doorway and swivels back to her, a thought occurring to him. “Hey, this is probably a stupid, inappropriate question with an answer I already know, but…” Her eyebrows raise high on her forehead, and he finds himself inexplicably flushing with color. “I really don’t want to find myself in this situation again. This truck is important to me and I realized I should probably know how to take care of it. Would it be possible for me to pop by when you’re doing the repairs, so I can learn for myself? Or at least learn what to look for?”

Betty leans back in her chair, seemingly appraising him. “Sure,” she says softly, surprised. She stands up. “Put your bag back down. We’ll start now.”

.

.

.

.

[flightdescending]

Part I - Part II - Part III

“I’ve been in the Tangled Wood since just after Winterfeast,” the fae said. He wore a broad hat with a wispy feather stuck in the brim, and an elaborate sword in a scabbard hung around his waist. “The Night of the Nocturne was already in full swing, of course, but Springle would not abide by me leaving before Winterfeast.”

Luca and Marigold had fallen into conversation with the fae after settling on the deck of the ferry, which was a smallish ship with Ashfall-style paddlewheels on either side to ensure it stayed timely. Its small size did cause it to be rocked by any wave of significant height, which was a bit miserable, especially combined with the chilliness of the seaspray and ocean wind. Luca watched a guardian fly by over the strait, gliding effortlessly on the wind, headed for the distant shore. Luca envied the efficiency of that method of travel. To put his luggage on the boat and simply fly over the water -- that would be a wonderful thing. But being on the ferry did allow him companions, and as he sat next to Marigold and listened to the fae’s tale he decided this was better, anyway. “It’s the most active time for ghosts,” the fae explained. “From the month of Winterfeast to the Trickmurk Circus. And everyone always wants what the dead have claimed.” The fae’s name was Cricket, he’d said. He was a ghosthunter, a guide through haunted ruins. “Ghosts are everywhere, of course, but there are none so easily agitated as the ones in Ghostlight. That’s where I make most of my money for the year. But they all quiet down a bit after the Circus, and there are less treasurehunters making the trip out to the ruins. So I go home, to Pod’s Garden. Such a pleasure meeting others making the same trip! More have been coming every year but not usually in Windsinger’s month.” Luca nodded. “I’ve bought a farm that needs tending to,” he explained happily. “It’s been sitting empty for a little while. And I was rather eager for a change of scenery, to tell the truth.” “Well, that makes sense, then!” Cricket said. “An empty farm -- I know the one it must be: old Rooter’s place. He died last year. Must not have had anyone to leave the place to after all, then.” Luca felt a mix of anxious delight to hear anything at all about the estate he’d bought and mild awkwardness at the realization he might be seen as taking over a deceased neighbor’s property. He hadn’t really thought about that before. “I’m sure that’s likely, I was told it was the estate of someone who had just passed.” He cast about for another topic, and remembered Marigold. “I was told Pod’s Garden holds exceptional festivals, is that true?” Cricket smiled. “They’re the most elaborate I’ve seen outside of the Tangled Wood’s very own Circus. Some Gardeners will make the trip to the Tangled Woods for that. And I have been to a Brightshine Jubilee in Beacon’s Gate once, when I was younger, that was truly a sight -- but every flight goes all-out on their own festival, don’t they? But for the festivals Pod’s Garden throws, for Mistral Jamboree this month, and many of the others, of course especially Greenskeeper’s, we get flocks and flocks of visitors traveling to town to experience it.” Marigold grinned. It sounded very promising. “Is there a fireworker in town for them?” The fae thought about that for a moment. “No, none of the Gardeners are fireworkers that I can think of. We must get some independent ones, because there’s definitely been some fireworks at festivals I remember. But the main event are Pod’s flower shows.” Both Luca and Marigold had to wonder how flower shows could be the main event of a festival, but they didn’t question it. Marigold was feeling very hopeful. “I’m a fireworker myself, and an alchemist. I was hoping there might be a job there,” she said. “My patron clan, Brightscale, split up when the leader joined the Exalted, which left me without a job.” “I’m sure you could find a place there,” Cricket said. “I don’t think we have an alchemist, either.” He looked thoughtful. “I heard about Brightscale, they were a clan near the border? They were the targets of that harpy raid.” Marigold nodded sadly. “Yes, the leader and a few others were killed. Apparently that flock have been causing a lot of trouble, although they don’t wear the Alliance banner.” “How terrible,” Luca said. “I didn’t know we were having beastclan problems in Sunbeam.” “Oh, yes, in Sunbeam and the Wood, too. It’s happening everywhere, as often as dragons raid harpies,” Cricket said -- a little reproachfully, Luca thought. “I’m sorry you lost your patron, Marigold.” The sun was hanging low on the western horizon after an hour of sailing. It would be down by the time they made landfall on the shore of the Labyrinth, which they could just make out as a verdant stripe to the north. Luca shivered as a spray of water was carried onboard by the wind. He turned to Cricket hopefully. “Could you tell us more about ghosthunting? I read a novel about a ghosthunter once but I have never met a real one. It’s fascinating.” Cricket sat up taller. As a fae, he was much smaller than either of the other dragons, but he exuded a confidence born from a life of facing mysteries and dangers that frightened even the largest of dragons. “I have a story to tell, if you’ll allow me -- Springle will want me to tell it in great detail and I might as well practice it.” “Oh, yes, please,” Marigold said. Cricket nodded, and began. “It was about a month ago now, before Trickmurk. A pair of treasurehunters from Dragonhome hired me to guard them as they explored Ghostlight. Fairly typical. They were not very experienced, mostly full of bravado with gold in their eyes. The rumor of riches in the Ghostlight Ruins is as unkillable as its denizens, and to tell the truth there are a few grand treasures brought up out of the stones every now and then. Mostly it’s stuff people left behind, the kinds of things that get haunted, especially in the Tangled Wood. Books, old hatchlings’ toys, things like that. The worst is when they start messing about with the crypts, of course. “This pair was particularly tenacious, not to be swayed by wraith hounds or tatterwings. We were in the ruins for a solid week altogether, camped out near an ancient lair. I’d sanctified the place: salt and iron filings and agrimony petals around the perimeter, all the tricks that keep spirits away. Still I couldn’t help feeling we were into something deep, and I wished I had brought even more protection. The longnecks that live in the area swear by bluelight candles, but they don’t make them for outsiders, and I haven’t been able to work out the recipe myself. The two I was guarding had brought some ropes and pulley systems. They’d driven nails into columns and stones to anchor the pulleys, and they’d made a fair spider web in one section of the lair. They were sure they’d found the crypt of the old clan leader, and had a huge flat stone they needed to move. It was rather impressive of them to have thought to bring pulleys, really. Normally folks just go in with pickaxes and shovels, which is slow going and annoys the wendigos. So they had their ropes wrapped around the stone and I was helping tug the thing off. Took a lot of maneuvering but the two fellows were strong enough and we got it off after a while. Underneath was a tomb. Dark, cold stone stairs leading down into shadow. Would be spooky but that’s what the whole place feels like, deep shadow. Still, there’s a smell like rot coming up from below and that’s unusual. Everything in Ghostlight is so old it doesn’t smell like decay. It smells like age, and dust, and lots of spirits, but most dragons can’t smell that. But rot, no; only carrioncorns really smell like rot and you only get those if they wander in out of the Abiding Boneyard. They don’t live underground. So these poor plunderers light a torch and I go down first to make sure there’s nothing sleeping down there, like a somber spirit or something. There’s a bunch of roots and cobwebs dangling from the ceiling, but it’s dry, and I can’t find any reason for the smell. The torch behind me is throwing a long shadow ahead, making it hard to see, and I’ve got one hand on my supply pouch and another on the hilt of my sword, waiting for something to jump out. But there’s nothing at all, you can tell by the sound. Empty echoes, the sound’s not hitting any interference. Just some stone plinth on the back wall with an urn on it. So I relax. ‘Empty’, I tell them. I can tell they’re disappointed that there’s not much in the tomb, but that’s not really my problem. I’m standing at the bottom of the staircase, tying a sprig of hyssop into a root tendril that’s dangling down. Hyssop’s a good ghost ward, I have a lot of plants like that. It only really works on little phantoms and wraith hounds, sometimes, but I was being thorough. My frills were tingling, like things were moving through air in a different time. One of the treasurehunters was a little hot-headed, and after they’d both searched the whole place over, peeling up flagstones and knocking on the walls to find secret hollows, they came up empty. He was mad. They thought they’d be rich by now, they’d researched old books and studied maps and there was supposed to be something buried here, they said. The mad one swept his tail around and smacked that urn right off its perch. It was just clay, not even decorated, and they’d opened it up already and saw it was full of nothing but dust, or ashes. When it hit the ground it broke into big shards, and the dust spilled out onto the stone. That’s when the rot smell got really bad. It swept up out of the dust and filled that little room, blown by an unseen wind. I had my sword out by now. This was going to be bad. Even my wards could tell there was a ghost coming now, and they scrambled to get around me to the stairs. I watched for a minute: the dust started to tremble, and it began pulling itself together, whirling up and looking terrifyingly solid. The smell was overwhelming, no ghost smelled like that. I flew up after the treasurehunters, but by then the stone itself had started quaking. I’m lucky I got out of the staircase before the ceiling collapsed. The ground looked like it was breathing for a moment. The dark earth and the cracked stone of felled walls and columns boiled around the tomb. And then something broke through. It was a skeletal hand, enormous, with blood red claws as long as I am. It was as big as an imperial -- bigger. It dug those claws into the dirt and pulled itself up, and the ground heaved up as the skull of the thing broke through. It was coming from nowhere, from somewhere else, anchored in that gravedust. Rotten, tattered cloth was clinging to its skull, and mud and moss rained down from its shoulders as it pushed itself up, and up. When its ribs were free, it tore a single, bony wing from the ground and stretched it out. The membrane of it looked like the cobwebs in the staircase, stretched thin and holey. It didn’t care at all about the ropes that still hung around the place from the excavation. Wherever they would have confined it, the ropes burned apart and the whole system snaked to the ground. Before I could even react, the specter swung its monstrous hand and hit one of my wards. It connected like a battering ram, and the poor fool got swept aside like a sack of grain. He cracked his head on a column and didn’t get up again. ‘Get behind a wall!’ I yelled at the other one, and he just managed to get to cover as the creature swiped its claw again. I flew up to that sweeping arm and grabbed onto a bit of tattered cloth. It seemed disorientated, just swinging about randomly, letting out a breathless, rattling, stinking roar from those skeletal jaws. I could hear buzzwings flying about, huge blooducker flies with stingers, but they were just as unfocused, like they’d been slumbering, too. I crawled up the bony arm, up the rotten cloak that half covered the thing’s head. A massive cloud of ghost mist and gravedust was swirling around in the ribcage below me, and in its eyes were glowing orbs that showed a kind of half-crazed intelligence. This was something that had been cursed, far worse than anything I’d seen yet in Ghostlight. It’s no wonder the treasurehunters had found something written about this tomb, it was almost certainly a warning. Perched now on the head, I held on as tight as I could with my wings and feet and I lifted my sword up straight above a glowing faultline in the back of it’s skull. I suppose I should explain my sword -- It’s iron, edged with silver, the only kind of blade that affects ghoststuff, and beyond that it was forged in the roots of the Behemoth and cooled in the waters there. There are few things the Gladekeeper mistrusts more than false life -- her sister the Plaguebringer is the same. So as I thrust my sword, small though it is, into the skull of this behemoth, all the dead magic powering its anger and convulsions shuddered a final throe and stopped its whirling. It seeped out all at once, and the mighty bones collapsed. I tumbled down with them, trying to get my sword out from where it was stuck, but as the skull hit the ground it, and all the rest of that horrible specter, disintegrated into nothing more than ashes. The poor fellow who got tossed aside turned out to be unconscious, but alive. We made up a travois, a stretcher that the unharmed one could drag, and got back to the outskirts of Wispwillow. I didn’t hear from them again, I guess they were done treasure-hunting. And I didn’t get another client after that, I just spent the rest of the time clearing out aer phantoms from a clan leader’s private library.” “But what was the… the specter?” Luca asked. “Well, it’s hard to say,” Cricket said. “I asked around amongst my peers who were still lingering in Wispwillow after Trickmurk. It’s not the first time such a large and malevolent ghost has been seen in Ghostlight. As far as we can tell, they were either heavily cursed individuals, perhaps the victim of some sort of capital punishment from the very early Fourth Age that has since been forgotten, or else they’re the memories of the Lightweaver’s folly -- the shattered ghosts of an Emperor struck down by the deities.” He shrugged. “It is likely to remain a mystery. The ashes, unfortunately --” The fae reached into his pack and pulled out a vial full of a dusty brown substance, stoppered by a cork sealed with translucent wax. “--appear to be simply ashes, and nothing more.”

[royal-despair-threads]

Leon & Izaya [Prologue]

Leon glances about, looking for the fluffiest hair in the vicinity. He spots a nervous looking bit of fluff across the room pretty quickly. Izaya has quite a few defining features after all. He approaches slowly, not sure if even moving too quickly would scare them. Once reaching them, Leon taps their shoulder gently.

"Hey, I'm sorry if I went a bit too far earlier. You passed out and all... I didn't mean to freak you out, sometimes I just get a little too affectionate. It's in my nature to tease people." He laughs, but Leon is rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Ah, h-here. To make it up to you." He pulls out a piece of grape candy and holds it out to Izaya.

Luckily for Leon, Izaya was still rather groggy from having just returned to consciousness; they only flinched a little when he tapped their shoulder, "Ah, Leon!" They sat up a bit, carefully rolling their shoulders to unstiffen them. Naturally, Leon brought up their fainting spell earlier, causing Izaya to flush bright pink in embarrassment,

"I'm um. I'm sorry you, well, that you had to see that, Leon-san..." They pinged their sweatband to try and calm down, "I-I'm um, that kind of....non-familial, uh, c-contact is so unusual for me, I just.....I'm sorry, I didn- I didn't mean to make you worry, really!!-"

"No, no, you're fine! I went too far, I know. I don't think I was ever taught boundaries when it comes to that sort of thing, so forgive me while I'm learning!"  Leon sits down next to Izaya, careful not to sit on his brace. It's okay sometimes, but right now his leg is aching a bit. He slowly pulls back his hand, as Izaya doesn't seem interested in the candy right now.

He's had the issue of figuring out just how touchy with people he should be for a while now. For Izaya's sake he hopes it doesn't persist, it's not at all his intention to make them uncomfortable.

"Oh! N-no, it's alright!! I really.....I need to be more open to people. S-So please don't blame yourself." Izaya eyed the candy anxiously. They hadn't noticed it at first considering they'd just awoken, but now they felt too awkward to say 'oh I'll take it', but at the same time they felt bad for not seeing it sooner. Heck, awake for two minutes and they're already panicking.

"I, um....the hug, you...you're very nice to hug!" Izaya complimented shyly. Was that too weird of a compliment to make to someone you admire? they really hoped not...

He visibly relaxes at the compliment. That means they don't feel uncomfortable enough to stop talking to him. Thank god. "Ah, thank you! You're a very nice person to hug~" Leon beams, pressing the candy into Izaya's hand after seeing them glance at it. They seem the type to stay quiet if it pleases someone else. He hopes he can help them gain a bit of confidence!

Oh! Candy! And a compliment?!?!?!? Izaya's flushed cheeks escalated from pink to red, "Y-you're so kind, Leon-san! I 'm not that good at hugs, surely..." They looked somewhere between trying to legitimately accept the compliment and seconds away from denying they were at all huggable, "U-um, are you a b-big brother, Leon-san? I-I mean, you're very affectionate, a-and um....protective?" They hoped that was the right word.

"You're very good at hugs, trust me! It helps that you're very soft~" He's halfway between trying to get Izaya to accept the compliment and teasing lightly, as always. At their inquiry, Leon shakes his head. "Nope! I'm actually a younger brother, but it's very sweet of you to tell me I have those qualities. I try to exude them the best I can."

The teasing is definitely flustering Izaya, that's for sure. Those mismatched eyes were focusing on literally anything else other than Leon; lord knows Izaya could never handle a compliment, but especially from someone so sweet such a compliment had them utterly surprised, "S-Soft? M-Me? I, well, soft is, I mean-!" they babbled nervously. To stop themselves they decided to eat the candy and hope it helped- Oh wow, Grape sure....is a flavour. Izaya's face resembled that one face babies make when they try a lemon for the first time. They tried to play it off but hoo, grape is....a very new flavour for them.

He laughs lightly at their flustered state before an empathetic smile rises to his countenance. "You hate grape too, huh? That makes two of us. Here, just spit it out, you can have my butterscotch." Leon pulls out his only piece of butterscotch. He had found it in the pile of grape candy, of which he despises. He was going to save it for later when he really needed it, but ah well. Izaya needs it more. Leon holds it out to them.

They shook their head, "I-I do't hade id,"  came the muffled, definitely wince-filled reply, "ids jus....bewy taggy...." Izaya really did hate it, but what kind of friend would they be if they just spat out the candy?! Wait, is that....NO, they couldn't accept Leon's only good candy!!! "L-Leon-san, no! I'w be alride! Sabe youw goog caddy!" They really weren't liking the grape but they couldn't let Leon waste their one and only good candy on them, they just couldn't..!

Leon makes sure to wear a pout on his lips to make Izaya think better of it. "Are you sure? It would make me feel a lot better seeing you enjoy yourself than actually eating it myself. A cute smile on your face would put more sweetness in my life than any amount of candy could ever dream of doing." He's still holding out his hand stubbornly, refusing to give in.

Oh nooooo.... Izaya can't say no to that, "....I....Awe you suwe?" They asked, still somehow not spitting out the hell candy. The more I read that back the more it sounds like OWO speak.

"I'm sure!~ I just want to see you happy. And it's already a nice experience to see that someone else doesn't like it either." He presses the piece of butterscotch into their hand, feeling a bit disheartened that he wouldn't be able to eat it after all. But it's worth it!

Izaya looked at the candy and looked to Leon. Oh gosh.....they swallowed the grape candy, enduring the horrible taste. They held up the butterscotch candy and looked to Leon, ".....I....I'd be even happier, if you um,.....if I could share it....w-with you?" they looked at Leon with those puppy dog eyes.

Leon's eyes narrow slightly. Did they just swallow that piece of candy? He's torn between abiding by their wishes or denying them of their request just for that. But socialization is a two-way street, right? He sighs lightly, but nods. "Sure. Only because it will make you happy, I'll compromise."

Izaya smiled, "I'm glad! I um," they stammered, gently breaking the candy in two, "I like when you smile so, it um, seeing you happy it, it makes me happy too!" Oh my god, thats so sappy. Izaya handed Leon a half with a smile. D'aww.

He smiles a bit at that. Leon's smile only grows when he pops his half of the butterscotch piece into his mouth. His eyes slide shut in pure bliss. The flavor alone warms his mouth, and as he swallows some of it it starts to warm his stomach too. His tense muscles relax some. He was complaining about the lack of sweets earlier, but it seems even Leon didn't know the extent of that. He refuses to chew or swallow the piece lest this end so soon.

Awwww, seeing Leon so happy made Izaya smile. That and the lovely smoothe butterscotch was complete bliss compared to the tangy hell from earlier. They followed suit and decided to let the candy melt. as they did so, Izaya looked to Leon curiously; Leon really did like sweets, huh? They figured perhaps in this case the interest matches the interestee.....was that even a word?

"Ah, sweets are so good!~" His eyes slide open. "I hope you're enjoying it as much as I am, I love butterscotch. It's my second favorite kind of candy~" He chimes.

"Wow, r-really? My favourite is probably white chocolate if I had to pick. But this tastes good too!" they hoped their chipping in hadn't sounded rude.

Leon doesn't seem to react negatively, so it probably isn't true. "I remember! I also added it to my growing list of everyone's favorite candies, so I'll be sure to make it when I can."

"Y-you will?!" Oh my god, they're doing the anime eye sparkles. "No one's ever made me chocolate before!"

He smiles warmly and laughs a bit. Izaya is just too cute. “Of course! So get to enjoy it~”

"I will! I promise!" Judging by the smile, Izaya was pretty darn happy! They piped up, "How do you make your chocolates? Is it a family recipe??" Wow, they're actually asking questions! they are confirmed comfortable around Leon hell yeah.

Hell yeah! Leon winks and presses his index finger to his lips. “Secret~ But it’s not a family recipe, I made it myself.” God Izaya is adorable.

Oh that's so cool! Izaya looked even more interested, "F-Forreal?! Wow, that's incredible!" they sheepishly rubbed the back of their neck, "I wish I could do something that cool, the only things I can make explode. And uh, not with flavour, haha..."

“Oh, but fireworks are so beautiful! I only see them sometimes, but the mood is always so pleasant and romantic when I do!” He beams.

"W-Wow, that's so lovely! I've always seen it as just a job, I guess. I never really thought fireworks could be romantic for some people..." they looked perplexed, like they're just learned a cool new fact, "I guess I could make um, heart shaped fireworks sometime.."

Leon’s eyes shine as he’s presented this new information. “That would be beautiful! I’ve always seen couples kissing under fireworks, so that would be amazing.”

"You think so?" Izaya asked, "I've never kissed anyone, um, with or without fireworks, so I wouldn't know." Izaya moved some hair behind their ear, "I remember one time someone asked me to- to make a firework that read um....what was it?...." they frowned trying to remember, "Oh um, it was 'Yeet'. I still have no idea what it means..."

“I think it’s an internet thing. You’re better off asking Seojun.” He laughs lightly. “Hey hey, if he were to make a romantic gesture do you think he’d pull something like that?? Throwing memes into the sky?”

Izaya snorted at that, cackling quietly, "Oh my god, dude, if he did I would cry." Izaya when would you ever not cry? "Honestly, do- do you think Seojun would actually do that?"

“Absolutely. I’ll ask him when I see him next just to confirm!~” He’s cackling quietly at this point thinking of Seojun’s reaction.

Izaya gave Leon a playful smile, "So, Seojun, hm? Is um, is he your type?" IZAYAYOUCAN'TJUSTASKTHAT. They realised how intrusive that was and immediately apologised, "A-Ah, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't-!!"

“Oh? No, it’s alright. Hmm... I’m honestly not even sure what my type would be! I just know that I’d like to have to opportunity to take care of them as much as they take care of me.” He hums softly, warm smile upon his lips. Leon plays with his rabbit pin lightly.

Izaya felt a lot less worried knowing Leon wasn't mad at them, and as they touched the pin, Izaya piped up, "Ah, you like rabbits, Leon-san?"

“Yes, I adore rabbits! They’re so cute with how their little noses twitch and how fluffy they are~ I’d love to have one one day. What about you, do you have any pets Izaya?” He rests his chin on the palm of his hand, leaning in curiously.

"they are super cute! I love the legends about rabbits on the moon." Izaya nodded, "I do actually, I have um, a ball python! Her name's Nyx! She's so pretty!" Well, thats a shock. "She likes to b-boop my chin!"

Leon has to withhold a squeal. His eyes glimmer. “That sounds so cute!! I’ve seen pictures of ball pythons, they seem so elegant~” Just the image of her booping Izaya’s chin is almost enough to send him into cuteness overload.

"She really is! She is a little, um, adventurous somethings though. She likes to curl up in my hoodie. I've almost worn her about forty times!" they sighed, but it was a sigh you'd hear a doting parent make, not an angry pet owner. It's p obvious Izaya loves their snek.

Leon brings his hands up to cover his mouth. He’s smiling so much. “Oh that sounds so cute!! I’m sure the two of you are adorable together~ I think I’ve pet a rabbit once or twice, but I want to wait until my schedule is a bit less busy so I can take care of the little guy properly. I want to show them as much love as you clearly show Nyx!”

"That's good!!" They smiled warmly, "Show your pet love and they'll love you back! that's what my grandma always told me! She used to have so many pets when she was my age." There they go, off on a tangent again.

“Oh? Tell me about them! And your Grandma~ She sounds cool!” Leon leans in a bit.

"Well, grandma used to have a really bit rabbit, two dogs, and a cat, but now she just has one cat and a really old dog. the cat doesn't like Nyx though, but um, the dog does! He's an akita, he's super fluffy! Sometimes she sleeps on him." they just kept talking, "Grandma always laughs whenever Nyx does the tongue thing, it's the sweetest sight!-"

Leon props his face up in both his hands, this having the side effect of squishing his cheeks. But he doesn’t care, he’s listening to this pure fluff! “That sounds so cute~ You all sound happy, and that makes me happy!”

Izaya couldn't help but think Leon looked super cute with his cheeks all smooshed in his hands like that! Adorable~!!! "Awww, thanks! I'm happy seeing you happy too!" They looked to Leon now the curious one, "What about your family, Leon? Are they sweet like you?"

He hums and smiles lightly. "My parents are nice. My sis is more of a tough love kind of girl, but she cares for me all the same. I think I'm the most outspoken about the way I feel though~"

"Awww, that must be so cool, having a sister! I'm an only child." Izaya pouted, "I wish I had like, big brothers, or big sisters, or anyt siblings so they could, like...protect me, and stuff." Their tone dipped a little.

"Well I'm here, and I can protect you if you want me to!~" He's smiling brightly. Please say yes please say yes please say yes please say yes please say yes--

"Y-You'd do that, for me?" Izaya looked stunned, "I-I'd love that!!"

Ah! So! Cute! Leon grins and pulls them into a hug. "Of course!" First official younger sibling acquired!

Achievement Unlocked: Older Brother Acquired! Izaya flushed again but this time they were prepared. Hug commence! Let's just hope they dont keep hugging too long this time. Someone needs to teach Izaya hug etiquette.

That's definitely not Leon. He knows how to hug well, but if he's enjoying too much he'll never let go until the other person is actively trying to pull away. He hugs Izaya tightly and give a little squeeze before pulling away this time though. Leon doesn't want another repeat of the fainting incident.

Izaya was glad Leon knew the perfect length a hug should be. Otherwise they'd be here for days, "W-Wow, I stayed conscious this time!" Izaya tried joking, hoping they were at that point by now.

He gives a short bark of laughter at that. "I'm trying to figure out how much affection you can handle before reaching that point~" He teases Izaya lightly before poking their cheek.

Izaya blushed, "W-Well, um, I haven't had....I mean,...I didn't get out much..." They babbled, wringing their hands together nervously.

"Don't worry, don't worry, I get it!" He smiles reassuringly. "Just teasing."

Izaya gave Leon a smile that assured him that they were indeed, reassured, "Thanks Leon. I dunno how I've functioned without a friend like you before!"

[oovitus]

I want to be ‘That Guy’. How you can successfully turn body envy into action.

You know “That Guy”. He’s confident, his cholesterol’s in check, he’s not embarrassed to take his shirt off in public, and he doesn’t get winded playing with his kids (or grandkids).

After coaching thousands of clients, I can confidently say: Wanting to be ‘That Guy’ can either propel you toward your goal… or completely paralyze you. Here’s what to do about it.

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You know “That Guy?” The one who looks good, seems effortlessly fit, exudes confidence, and just seems to have it all together?

Ever wished (maybe secretly) that you could be more like him?

Turns out most guys are (also secretly) wishing the same thing.

In this article, I’m going to tell you the truth about That Guy, and what it takes to live a “That Guy” kind of life.

(Hint: it’s not what you think.)

I’ll also show you how to use this kind of comparison to work for you, instead of against you.

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Before digging in, however, I wanted to let you know that soon we’ll be opening up spots in our Precision Nutrition Coaching program.

You see, twice a year we work with small groups of men and women hoping to look better, feel better, and gain control over their health and fitness.

Over the course of 12 months together, we help them get into the best shape of their lives… and stay that way for good.

For a sneak peek at the amazing things we’ve helped our clients accomplish, check out this short video:

Meet some of the people whose bodies — and lives — have been changed by Precision Nutrition Coaching.

  Want to learn even more? Join the Presale List Today.

  During the Precision Nutrition Coaching program we’ll guide you through important, permanent improvements in your eating, exercise, body, and health.

The results?

You’ll lose the weight (and body fat) you haven’t been able to shed for years. You’ll build physical strength and gain confidence. And you’ll end up feeling like the healthiest, strongest, fittest version of yourself.

In other words, we’ll help you become your own version of “That Guy”.

Which brings us back to today’s article…

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I want to be That Guy.

For 25 years, I’ve been coaching people on how to improve their bodies, their health, and their lifestyles.

(First on my own, and then as the creator of Precision Nutrition Coaching.)

I’ve coached people from all over the world with different backgrounds, cultures, professions, and family situations.

Interestingly, they’ve all had one thought in common:

I want to be That Guy.

We all know That Guy.

He’s awesome. Inspiring, even.

That Guy maybe has ripped abs, ripped arms, ripped everything. He doesn’t get winded playing with his kids (or grandkids), and isn’t embarrassed to take his shirt off in public.

That Guy might be 30 or 40 or 50 or 60. Regardless of age, he exudes youthfulness, ease, and freedom. He just throws on a t-shirt and looks like a million bucks.

That Guy doesn’t say “uff” when he bends over to tie his shoes. His doctor isn’t telling him his rotator cuff is messed up, or that his blood cholesterol is too high. Heck, he’s probably a doctor himself, like a neurosurgeon or something.

That Guy isn’t arguing with his wife about who should pick up the dry cleaning. He doesn’t have to clean out eavestroughs, or slog through freeway traffic.

And he’s definitely not suffering anxiety about work or helping his parents move into assisted living. He’s not having thoughts like, I need more time to focus on myself.

That Guy doesn’t have bad knees or get heartburn after eating a chili dog. When you have life figured out like he does, like Rocky’s trainer Mickey says, he can eat lightning and crap thunder.

That Guy gets romance and adventure, kicks life in the ass, and rides off into the sunset. Because he totally, completely, has his shit together.

“Make me look like That Guy.”

Twenty years ago, That Guy was Brad Pitt in Fight Club. Clients begged, “Make me look like Tyler Durden.”

These days, That Guy is Chris Hemsworth or Zac Efron or Michael B. Jordan on Instagram. Pick up any men’s fitness magazine, or scroll through any social media feed, and you’ll see That Guy staring back at you.

And on the subway, at work, or at the pool with your kids, there are local versions of That Guy. Call him That Guy Lite — the more attainable but still envy-inspiring version of That Guy. He’s got his shit together. A well-defined jawline. And biceps.

Let’s be honest. I know you’re sometimes down on yourself for not being That Guy. You can’t help but think…

Why does he have it all together, when I so clearly do not?

Actually, here’s the thing. As a coach, I’ve helped create countless That Guys.

And — newsflash — That Guy doesn’t have it all together either.

Before he was That Guy, he was where you are right now. His life was busier than ever with:

chores at home; plus

stress at work; and frankly

just trying to hold it all together; which meant

no time to focus on (and take care of) himself.

And his life wasn’t slowing down anytime soon.

Sure, his social media feed painted a well-curated, living-the-goodlife picture. (Despite his avoidance of “shirt-off” pictures.) However, he was struggling, feeling incompetent, and ready to give up on health, fitness, and vitality.

Now, this might sound weird, but after 25 years of coaching I’ve seen a lot of guys in their underwear. Literally and metaphorically.

Their tailored suits (or baggy sweatshirts) have to come off. Measurements must be taken, progress evaluated, challenges highlighted, obstacles dealt with.

That’s when everyone realizes…

“That Guy” doesn’t exist.

It’s so easy to believe that Everyone Else is doing better than you.

Everyone Else is losing weight or gaining muscle or getting fitter so much faster and more effortlessly than you.

Everyone Else has their shit together. Everyone Else has everything you don’t. It feels like you’re the only person in the world with your problems. That it’s much harder for you than for everyone else.

The truth:

There is no Everyone Else.

You see…

No one can escape the reality of family and deadlines and the thermodynamic laws that govern metabolism.

Not Chris Hemsworth, not Zac Efron, not anyone.

That Guy doesn’t exist the way you think he does.

We are all imperfect, striving, struggling, very-much-human beings with hopes and fears and desires and neuroses and jobs and lives and kids and dogs or cats and family demands and toilets that need unclogging and lines-becoming-wrinkles and hangnails and alarms that go off too early and a love of chocolate-chip cookies… and all the rest of reality.

None of it gets easier with make-believe.

It’s only once we’re able to be honest about what’s going on in our lives — to stop worrying about being the only person who isn’t fit enough, smart enough, together enough, getting enough things done in a day, isn’t a good enough father / husband / worker, whatever — that we can start becoming our own versions of That Guy.

Want to know how it’s done? Check out these 6 steps.

Step 1. Reconsider your expectations.

Here’s the good news: You can get into That-Guy-in-Men’s-Health shape. As in, it is physically possible for your torso to look like that.

The question is: Can you afford to make nutrition and fitness your number one priority — above not just dessert, but also your partner, your kids, your job… all of it?

As we explored in our article The Cost of Getting Lean, getting into magazine-cover shape is intense. You have to give up some part of your life to accomplish this.

You eat out of Tupperware. You measure everything that goes into your mouth. Your entire routine revolves around eating (or not eating), working out, and sleeping so you have enough energy to work out again.

This is reserved for people who get paid a lot to have that body. (Actors have a staff of professionals making sure they roll into shoots looking ab-tastic, and then of course there’s the magic of post-production digital editing.)

But, even then, That Guy doesn’t look like you think he does all the time. He only looks like that sometimes.

And when he does look like that, his life is much less awesome than you think. He ate three ounces of plain cold chicken out of a Ziploc bag at last weekend’s family barbecue and then went back to the gym for his second workout of the day.

But that’s not to say getting in shape isn’t worth it. Even more, getting into reasonable, moderate shape isn’t too complicated.

All you need are small consistent changes here and there. Walking the dog after dinner, perhaps a couple weekly lifting sessions at the gym, and including an apple in your lunch is a good start.

Getting into pretty good shape is trickier, but can be done if you’re committed. You might need to focus more on food quality and portion sizes, working out a bit more, and being more careful with your indulgences. Still doable if you’re so inclined.

When Precision Nutrition Coaching clients are finally able to recognize and internalize all this, a major breakthrough usually follows.

Because they’re finally able to see the really great, totally attainable versions of That Guy they can become. They can quit spinning their wheels for a goal that’s actually, it turns out, pretty undesirable. They start focusing on healthy habits that can be squared with the rest of their life’s priorities.

Step 2. Look for real-life role models.

When we see someone in a magazine (or on Instagram) we don’t know who they are, how they feel, or what their life is really like.

If you’re data-driven like me, that’s useless. Especially since real-life role models are around us all the time — and they can give us data to work with.

Think about the grandfather who always has energy to joyfully play with his grandkids. How did he stay fit as he aged?

Or your colleague who sneaks off during lunch to take a yoga class. He’s a little sheepish about it, but he still goes. (And he’s always so calm afterwards.) How does he find the motivation?

Or the neighborhood dad who teaches the kids baseball. (And miraculously never loses his patience.) What does he do to get out of work early?

Small moments of health, fitness, and wellness are everywhere. If you take them you’ll be surprised at how quickly you’re playing the role of That Guy.

Step 3. Apply fitness minimalism.

Small steps… they don’t come with much fanfare, do they? But this is the unsexy truth of how we get things done.

Don’t have time to exercise? Some push-ups and air squats before you leave the house in the morning. A 10-minute walk at lunch. A few sets of sprints while dinner’s in the oven. Or a game of “crawl on Daddy’s back while he tries to plank”.

Do what you can, when you can, with what you can.

Think your diet sucks? Just pick one thing about the way you eat — the thing you think will make the biggest improvement to your nutrition — and focus on it exclusively for a couple of weeks.

Want to drink one fewer beer per night? Eat a salad once a day? Skip dessert or replace it with something healthier?

Pick one thing and practice it each day. Forget about everything else. Then, when you’ve got it down, add a new thing.

Maybe you think the effort is so small that it doesn’t “count”. But that’s not true. Success is almost always built from putting small things on top of small things on top of small things… until they’re transformed into big things.

Step 4. Get help to find your work-arounds.

It’s not all-or-nothing. If you can’t do an exercise or eat a certain healthy food, don’t let it be a reason to do nothing. Find a work-around. Get help if you need it.

No, I’m serious.

Do you ask for what you need? Is your pride in the way? Don’t let it be. Figure out what kind of support you require. Ask for it. Then accept the help.

If your knees aren’t as sturdy as they used to be, think about branching out from your usual running routine. Or ask a coach how an exercise can be modified.

Hate working out alone? Join a local running or cycling group, or arrange a workout with a workout partner.

Having trouble “finding time” for things? Get out a calendar and start planning. Book appointments with yourself. Track your time so you spot inefficiencies. Set alarms and reminders, stick Post-it notes, do whatever it takes.

Everyone has to work at it, even That Guy. Especially at the beginning.

People hate the feeling of exercise when they’re out of shape. People suck when they start a new sport. No one deadlifts 500 pounds on the first try.

Funny thing: we don’t really start getting better until we face up to our own limitations.

We have to ask for help (and accept it). We have to embrace small improvements that add up over time. We have to evolve past an “all or nothing” attitude.

We have to pick ourselves up after we fall down, and make course corrections.

Ironically, realizing you can’t do everything yourself, and allowing yourself to ask for help, is what takes real courage. Shaking hands firmly with reality and looking it in the eye is a much manlier approach than living in la-la land.

Step 5. Heed your dashboard indicator lights.

It’s OK to need a little help. But, sometimes, we need more than a little help. Like when we’re experiencing:

chronic insomnia or poor quality sleep

chronic pain or lack of mobility

frequent injuries and/or illnesses

chronic and debilitating depression, anxiety, or other mental health concerns

chronic social isolation and relationship difficulties

chronic lethargy and lack of energy

feeling like you need alcohol or recreational drugs to function

concerns with food, eating, and/or exercise that seem to be taking over your life and/or harming your health

Of course, a blinking indicator light — perhaps triggered by a debilitating gym injury, getting a scary medical diagnosis, or ending a relationship — can end up being exactly the wake-up call we needed to start working on ourselves.

But get real with yourself for a second: Is fitness distracting you from a more serious problem that seems too heavy to think about?

If so, try talking to a doctor, trained coach, counselor, or other health care professional.

Step 6. Embrace the struggle.

It’s not going anywhere. Grappling with pain — whether that’s actual pain and suffering, or just small daily annoyances — is part of being human.

As adults, we recognize life’s complexity and richness. Wanting to “be perfect” or “have it all” is not an adult wish. It’s a child wish: to have all the toys, all the time, even your brother’s.

Everyone has a struggle, even That Guy. You might just not see it. For instance:

33% of our male clients take prescription medication.

Of those taking meds, 24% take antidepressant or anti-anxiety medication.

36% of our clients have injuries. And many struggle with chronic pain.

17% of our male clients are over 50. (Even if you’re healthy, aging brings its own challenges.)

In addition, many clients in our men’s coaching program tell us they feel like their schedule has taken over their health. They’re too busy and too stressed.

Plus, many challenges are invisible. You often can’t see pain or disability. You often can’t see psychological distress. Unless you see someone pop a pill, you don’t know what they’re taking.

And guess what — the PN staff struggle with the exact same things.

We have injuries. Or had them. Or will have them.

We’ve struggled with mental and emotional health sometimes. Or often.

We’ve struggled with addictions — whether that’s to work, or exercise, or food, or alcohol, or anything else that someone could get hooked on.

We’ve gained too much weight, or been scrawny, or gone weeks or months without working out.

And we’ve definitely had times where we struggled to “get it all done”.

No matter what the challenge is, at least a few of us have faced it.

And remember, That Guy, who looks so fit and healthy, may be in the middle of a long and difficult journey.

Like the cancer survivors whom we coached through post-treatment rehab.

Like people who are coming back from an injury or illness.

Like people who just have so much on their metaphorical plate, and feel every emotion — stress, happiness, sadness, you name it — as hunger.

No matter how someone looks, you don’t know what it’s taken to get where they are today. We’re all out here in the field together. Trying our best under imperfect circumstances.

Accepting imperfection and the reality of being human is your ticket to being your version of That Guy.

You don’t have to wait. Or wish you were someone else. Or both.

You can choose to embrace the struggle, accept your “not OK-ness”, and start to chase your awesome anyway.

Right here, right now.

What to do next

Most guys I’ve coached spend a lot of time thinking about That Guy. But instead of feeling inspired, they feel paralyzed. That’s when we focus on the following:

1. Don’t get hung up on failures.

Most people who enroll in Precision Nutrition Coaching have failed at losing weight and getting in shape before they finally reach out to us.

For guys, that can be tough to get over. They’ve been successful in other areas of their lives. Now they’re pissed.

However, it’s crucial to think of any failed weight loss attempts as feedback that’s going to inform how you’ll succeed this time.

What did you do last time and the time before? What worked and what didn’t?

We’re big on self exploration at PN (if you couldn’t already tell). Understanding what hasn’t worked for you is key to regaining ownership over your health (and your That Guy-ness).

2. Think about what success looks like for you.

Build your mental picture of That Guy. What’s he doing? What does he look like?

Is he killing it in a Spartan race? Surfing while on vacation?

Is he climbing trees with his kids? Playing touch football with his buddies — without getting winded?

All of the above?

That’s going to be you in a few months, if you approach your goal with the realities of your life in mind.

Keep your eyes trained on your version of That Guy.

3. Build workarounds and bridges on the path to That Guy.

You’re about to become an engineer of the health-focused strategies that work with your life. Start practicing.

Take one problem at a time — one barrier to eating well or working out, and experiment with different workarounds or bridges.

How can you overcome that one obstacle today? Can you do it again tomorrow?

4. Just start acting like That Guy.

Adopt his confidence. Assume you’re capable of the things he is. Find ways to relieve your stress so you can feel a little lighter and more free today.

No, you can’t lose 40 pounds or get ripped overnight. But if you just take on a few of That Guy’s habits, one at a time and little by little. It’ll jump-start your progress in a big way.

5. Start assembling your team.

Truth: Life is not a do-it-yourself project.

So, ask yourself:

Who do you need in your life to help you become the person you want to be?

What support systems will you need to become your own version of “That Guy”?

Consider who you can recruit to help you achieve your goals. A trusted buddy or family member, a coach, counselor, or other health care provider? If so, find them and share your vision with them. Ask for what you need. Let them help.

Change does not happen spontaneously. Along with helpers, you need systems. Things that remind you, guide you, help you, fill in the gaps for you, and generally help you stay more or less on track.

Start actively seeking out the support systems that will help you get to where you want to go.

Want help becoming the healthiest, fittest, strongest version of you?

Most people know that regular movement, eating well, sleep, and stress management are important for looking and feeling better. Yet they need help applying that knowledge in the context of their busy, sometimes stressful lives.

That’s why we work closely with Precision Nutrition Coaching clients to help them lose fat, get stronger, and improve their health… no matter what challenges they’re dealing with.

It’s also why we work with health, fitness and wellness professionals (through our Level 1 and Level 2 Certification programs) to teach them how to coach their own clients through the same challenges.

Interested in Precision Nutrition Coaching? Join the presale list; you’ll save up to 54% and secure a spot 24 hours early.

We’ll be opening up spots in our next Precision Nutrition Coaching on Wednesday, June 6th, 2018.

If you’re interested in coaching and want to find out more, I’d encourage you to join our presale list below. Being on the list gives you two special advantages.

You’ll pay less than everyone else. At Precision Nutrition we like to reward the most interested and motivated people because they always make the best clients. Join the presale list and you’ll save up to 54% off the general public price, which is the lowest price we’ve ever offered.

You’re more likely to get a spot. To give clients the personal care and attention they deserve, we only open up the program twice a year. Last time we opened registration, we sold out within minutes. By joining the presale list you’ll get the opportunity to register 24 hours before everyone else, increasing your chances of getting in.

If you’re ready to change your body, and your life, with help from the world’s best coaches, this is your chance.

[Note: If your health and fitness are already sorted out, but you’re interested in helping others, check out our Precision Nutrition Level 1 Certification program].

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