#every year i think 'ao3 wrapped'? and then i whisper nooooo

[mblematic]

blorbo wrapped this year you spent 184719028347 minutes thinking about your poor little meow meow

[chatonne-rousse]

Turtle-y Awesome

@sketchy-panda sent me the following ask last week:

...and this is the story that sprang from that ask. You never know what you're going to get when you share a headcanon with me! 😉

Read it on Ao3 here.

"...et puit, quand il fut bien certain que personne ne pouvait le voir, Benjamin alluma sa veilleuse."

Adrien turns the last worn page and sets the book beside his knee on Hugo's bed.

"What do you think, kitten? Benjamin was turtle-y being a scaredy-cat, wasn't he?"

Hugo giggles, eyes bright. "He's not a cat, Papa, he's a turtle!"

Adrien nods sagely at his son. "Right you are," he says, patting the book's cover. "If this book tortoise anything, it's that Benjamin is definitely a turtle."

The number of turtle puns in the world is finite, and Hugo has heard his dad tell them all repeatedly, but he still laughs every time. The sound is music to Adrien's ears. He grins as he leans down to tuck the duvet around Hugo's shoulders and lifts his son's dark fringe to place a kiss on his forehead.

"Can we read another story, Papa? I'm not even tired."

Hugo's big green eyes scrunch shut as he yawns widely.

"Mmhmm. I can tell. You know what?" Adrien grabs another stuffed turtle from the bookcase and tucks it in beside the Carapace plushie already cradled in Hugo's arms. "Monsieur Vert looks very tired. He was almost sleeping over there! Maybe if you hold him really, really gently, that will help him fall asleep. I'm sure Carapace is tuckered out after a long day of superheroing, too."

"He is," Hugo says, nodding. He strokes his little hand up and over Monsieur Vert's soft shell. "I'll help them, Papa."

Adrien smiles even as his chest squeezes with emotion. "I know you will, my kind-hearted kitten." He can't resist pressing another kiss to Hugo's forehead and delights in receiving a loud, smacking kiss to his own cheek in return.

The turtle lamp on the nightstand is switched off and the Carapace nightlight beside the bookshelf activates, dim light glowing green through the plastic.

"Bonne nuit, ma petite tortue."

He watches his son cuddle his turtle and Carapace close as the closing door slowly eclipses the bed in shadow from the hallway light. Leaving the door open a crack, Adrien listens for a moment as Hugo gets comfortable in his bed.

He smiles as he pads down the hall toward Emma's room to join his wife for another round of goodnight kisses for their precious kittens.

*****

"Kitty, this is getting ridiculous. How is that the only thing he wants for his birthday?" Marinette shakes her head, but her grin betrays her lack of any real annoyance.

Adrien rubs his face and groans. "I know. Believe me, I know. Can you imagine if Nino knew?"

That surprises her. "You haven't told him? I told Alya ages ago when he said Carapace was his favorite." She thinks for a moment. "I don't think I've shared the, um...depth of the obsession, though."

He stares at her, deadpan, before they both laugh.

"Turtles I could handle, Mari. They're cute. They're green." He bats his eyes at her and she swats his arm playfully. "But Carapace? Carapace? When Chat Noir is right there? I don't get it."

"Awww, Chaton. Is my kitty jealous?"

"Of course not," he says, pouting, though he can't keep up the ruse and his smile breaks through. "Okay, maybe a little."

"Nino made a wonderful hero, and is the perfect holder for Wayzz, and you know it."

She scooches closer to him on the sofa and rubs his back gently. His eyes close for just a moment before opening them to find his wife gazing at him with what might just be his favorite look in her eyes - a teasing glint, a touch of heat, and an endless well of love. Everything goes fuzzy momentarily, but he catches her next words clearly.

"Besides, my favorite hero will always be Chat Noir. Always."

"Yeah?" he breathes.

She nods.

Her eyes go wide when he hauls her petite frame from the sofa beside him and settles her across his lap. She laughs as she wraps her arms around his neck and presses a kiss to his lips.

"What a coincidence, My Lady," he murmurs into the whisper of space between them, "because my favorite hero--" He pauses, kissing her again, "is also Chat Noir."

There's a beat of silence and then she's laughing, pressing her face into the crook of his neck to muffle her giggles. His arms tighten around her shaking shoulders as he laughs along with her, swept away by the sweet sound he will always love. There's no joy in the world quite like making his wife laugh.

"You know I'm kidding, Bug," he finally whispers into her hair when their laughter subsides. "Emma and I share a favorite hero. The greatest of all. Prettiest, too. Oh, wow, is she ever beautiful. And strong. And smart."

"Rena Rouge?" Marinette asks cheekily, her nose still pressed to his neck.

"Nooooo," he croons, tickling her sides until she laughs again. "It's Ladybug, jumping above, Lady magique et lady chance!"

"Kitty, no!" she begs through her giggles, "Don't get that in my head!"

"Too late!"

He silences the last of her laughter when he captures her lips with his, twin sighs mingling in the late-night quiet of the living room.

With forever in his arms and their shared future asleep down the hall, Adrien simply loses himself in this blissful moment, forgetting that their baby will turn five next weekend, that the passage of time is as inevitable as the dichotomy of creation and destruction. Wrapped up in his wife, time seems to stop altogether. Marinette - her love, her care, their unshakeable bond - is eternal.

But of course, the clock still ticks. And when they part a few minutes later, after one last kiss and a nuzzle of her nose against his, he still has to ask.

"So we're really throwing Hugo a Carapace-themed birthday party?"

She nods. "Yep."

"And we're buying him the new Shell-ter Secret Hideout Super Bunker, complete with Carapace action figure, power-ups, costume changes, a Turtle-mobile sports car that Nino never had, and four different colored shields that he also never had?"

"There's a jet, too, for some reason. But...yep."

Adrien nods slowly, a smile spreading across his face. "He's going to love it."

"Oh, he is," she affirms, her grin matching her husband's. "And so is Uncle Nino."

He snorts a laugh and pulls her close once more, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo.

"This'll be hilarious."

Marinette smiles against his shoulder.

"Yep."

*****

Everything is green.

Their normally colorful apartment seems to have transformed into an emerald dreamscape that doubles as a turtle sanctuary.

Everything is green, and there are turtles everywhere.

Sea turtles, tortoises, turtles of all kinds - including a certain turtle-themed superhero - adorn every surface. Adrien had been surprised by the amount of Carapace party merchandise he was able to find online. He's used to the numerous Carapace items in Hugo's bedroom, pieces he's added to his collection one by one over the past year or so. But this, his best friend's face dangling from streamers, emblazoned on little party hats, is just a little weird.

He's proud, though. A little jealous, a lot amused, and very, very proud. No desperately sad, pitifully lonely teenage boy has ever found a better friend than Nino Lahiffe. He's the brother of his heart, the mellow to his anxious, the staunch protector of their little group of best friends and hero teammates. Adrien has to admit that Hugo has great taste in favorite superheroes.

Someday he'll discover that his idol is also his Uncle Nino, but today is not that day. Today, the magic and wonder still shines in his son's eyes, and it's a beautiful thing.

Adrien putters around the kitchen making last-minute preparations to the food and drink selection, making sure there are plenty of cups and plates (all printed with a Carapace action scene, of course) stacked on the island. Oddly, he couldn't find Carapace napkins to go along with the other paper goods, but Marinette had saved the day by snagging a pack of sea turtle patterned napkins that coordinated perfectly in a pinch.

He smiles at the thought of his resourceful bug, his grin widening as he hears her welcome guests at the door. This is followed by a squeal of glee when Hugo and two of his classmates run off to his bedroom to play. Adrien shakes his head, still smiling. He'll have to lure them out in a bit with snacks and the promise of gifts and cake.

It's not like he doesn't already know from several years of experience that children's birthday parties are mostly adults mingling and intermittently making sure the kids don't get into too much mischief as they play together.

He takes the spinach quiche from the oven where it was warming up and sets it on the table with the other food, rebelliously placing a black potholder with a neon green pawprint pattern under the hot ceramic dish.

A towering, tiered tray of green macarons has pride of place on the dining room table, the top half of each cookie painted to look like a turtle's shell in edible glittering gold. They look almost too pretty to eat, and the same goes for the expertly-decorated turtle cake nearby, made by Hugo's grandparents and brought straight from the bakery for his big day.

The vegetable plate is an array of green, from broccoli to peppers to celery. The party has barely begun, but the celery is already running low, thanks to Emma's clandestine snacking in the hours beforehand.

Everything is green, and Hugo loves it. And that's what it's all about, really.

*****

Adrien is on his way back from checking in on the now half dozen kids playing in Hugo's room when he hears Alya's laughter from the entryway. Clearly she's spotted the party decor. He rounds the corner to find Marinette hugging her best friend, Alya's pregnant belly only getting in the way a bit and not stopping her from throwing her arms around Marinette's shoulders.

"Sorry we're late, Mari," she says, then pitches her voice to a stage whisper. "I had to pee. Twice." She leans back from the hug and cradles her bump. "Actually, I'm just going to..." She points down the hall, and Marinette laughs.

"Go for it, Als. We've all been there."

Nino is still crouched by the door, helping his daughter out of her jacket and shoes. He just shakes his head and laughs. She races off to find her "cousins" and Nino stands, kissing Marinette on each cheek and wrapping Adrien in a hug.

Surveying the apartment over Adrien's shoulder, he claps him on the back and says, "I love what you've done with the place. Very inspired design choice."

Adrien rolls his eyes and all three of them laugh.

"Hugo is obsessed with turtles. You have no idea."

"Oh, I think he has some idea, Minou." Marinette smiles at her husband over her shoulder, linking arms with Alya when she joins them again and ushering her into the green-bedecked living room.

He glances sidelong at Nino with a sheepish grin. "This isn't too weird for you, is it? It was all Hugo's idea. He hasn't stopped talking about his 'Carapace Turtle Party' for weeks," Adrien says, air quotes included.

"Nah, mec, it's cool. Kind of flattering." Nino raises an eyebrow and laughs. "What do you think he'll say when you tell him someday?"

Adrien just shakes his head. "Probably ask if you can adopt him and be his dad instead." His smile is teasing but just a touch rueful.

Nino laughs again. "No way, man. Number one, I've already got enough kids. Number two, you're the best dad. They love you like crazy, bro. Seriously."

His chest fills with warmth. Nino is such an incredible friend. And he's right (about the last bit, at least).

"They're incredible, Nino. Being a dad is..." He trails off, unable to find the words.

"I know, dude." He claps Adrien on the shoulder. "They're a pain in the ass, but they make up for it by being totally awesome."

Nino glances around, finally spotting the table full of green food and turtle-themed treats.

"Wait. Bro. Is that a turtle cake?"

*****

"You know," Nino says a few minutes later, washing down a matcha macaron with a swig of turtle punch, "I could get used to this. It would mess with my head, but after a while--" he looks at the cup with his face on it and shrugs, "it's not so strange. Better than having my face plastered on a billboard outside the Galeries Lafayette."

Adrien groans. "Et tu, Brute? Why would you remind me of that?"

"Because I can." Nino takes another bite of macaron and nudges his best friend's shoulder, laughing.

*****

As the kids snack and carry on, Adrien finally decides it's time to let his best friend see the Carapace shrine that is his son's bedroom.

Nino takes in Hugo's completely green, turtle-filled bedroom as Adrien waits with bated breath beside him for his reaction.

It is, as usual, relatively chill.

"Little dude has good taste!"

"Indeed." Wayzz peeks from Nino's collar with a pleased smile on his face. "The turtle has always symbolized wisdom, strength, and longevity." His tiny smile widens. "I'm also partial to the color green."

Nino steps farther into Hugo's room to examine the bookcase. "I...did not know they made this much Carapace merch."

"Believe me, there's more. We have to draw the line somewhere." Adrien closes his eyes and sighs. "Although he does brush his teeth with a Carapace toothbrush."

Nino's laugh starts as a snort and builds when he spots the Carapace wastebasket beside Hugo's bed and the Carapace plushie propped against his pillow. It turns positively raucous when he sees his best friend's face.

"Holy crap, dude," he wheezes. "This is hilarious. You must be so jealous."

"I am not!"

"You totally are."

"Well--" Adrien sputters, "Marinette is, too!"

"Not as much as you are, Kitty!" she calls from the living room.

Adrien throws his hands in the air. Nino doubles over.

"Chat Noir is cool, too," he mutters, petulant.

A still-laughing Nino pats his arm consolingly. "If it makes you feel any better, Chat Noir is my favorite hero...after Rena Rouge."

That actually does make him feel better, but he's not telling Nino that. Instead, he just grins a sly half-smile at his best friend. "Good save, man."

"Hey, I know which side my bread is buttered on, mec. Don't act like you don't."

Adrien is helpless to the smile that spreads across his face.

Nino groans. "You've been married for seven years, dude. Are you ever not going to go all gooey just thinking about Marinette?"

Adrien quirks an eyebrow and glances sidelong at him. Nino nods once and pats Adrien's shoulder.

"That was a dumb question, wasn't it?"

"Yep," Marinette says from the hallway behind them.

Adrien's heart beats faster at the twinkle in her eye. He wonders how much she heard. Probably all of it - she always did have sonic hearing, but motherhood seemed to ramp it up to eleven. Not much escapes his wife.

"Time for cake and presents," she announces. "Nino, you can revel in Hugo's Carapace shrine later."

"And I will, don't you worry," Nino says with a laugh as he turns to head back to the party.

Adrien throws an arm over his best friend's shoulder and smiles brightly at Marinette.

Hugo has merch, but Adrien has a real, live Ladybug who promised eternity to her Chat Noir. He holds his own favorite superhero in his arms every night, and nothing, nothing compares to that.

*****

Surrounded by wrapping paper and bows, the birthday boy sits on the floor with one last gift in front of him. The box is taller than he is when seated, and he has to stand up on his knees to tear the paper off the top. As soon as he can see what's inside, he shouts with glee and jumps to his feet. Overjoyed, he scampers around the coffee table to his parents, first thanking Marinette with a hug and kiss, then getting swept up in Adrien's arms for a bear hug.

The fact that Hugo doesn't push away from him to return to his barely-unwrapped gift is not lost on him, nor is the fact that he abandoned it and thought to thank them first in his excitement.

Sometimes Adrien feels like he's been given so much more than he deserves. Marinette alone is a blessing beyond his imagination, but Emma and Hugo, too? It's too much and he knows it, so he holds them close and relishes every single moment like this one with his little boy hugging him tight and murmuring thanks into his neck.

A few minutes later finds Hugo examining every detail of his new treasure (after Adrien wrangled all the parts out of their plastic-encased prison).

He claps his hands when he sees that this set comes with a bonus Chat Noir action figure in addition to Carapace and his shields of many colors.

"Maman!" he cries, jubilant, holding Chat Noir above his head so she can see. "Look! It has Chat Noir! You love Chat Noir!"

Blushing, Marinette pointedly avoids looking in the direction of the two moms of Hugo's school friends who've stayed for the party but smiles widely at her son. "I do. He's my favorite superhero of all time."

Hugo nods, turning to his dad where he sits beside him on the floor, struggling to snip the tiny plastic anchors holding each piece to the cardboard backing.

"See, Papa? He's Carapace's sidekick."

"Hey!" Adrien says indignantly. He looks up from the mess of cardboard and plastic in his lap as Marinette, Alya, and Nino laugh.

Nino, best bro that he is, chimes in. "Nah, little man, Chat Noir is no one's sidekick. He's way too brave and cool for that." He grins at Hugo and points first to the Carapace action figure on the coffee table and then to Chat Noir in his hand. "They're a team. Best friends and superheroes at the same time. That's why they're so awesome."

Hugo looks at the Chat Noir figure for a long moment. "Wow," he breathes. "Chat Noir is as cool as Carapace." He says it like a revelation that's rocked his entire worldview.

Alya sniffles and Marinette hands her a tissue.

"Okay, but Ladybug is still the coolest," Emma pipes up from Hugo's other side.

All the adults besides Marinette nod. Adrien reaches around Hugo to pat Emma's back.

"You're absolutely correct, kitten."

Marinette blushes again and Alya blows her nose.

Hugo tucks Carapace into the driver's seat of the Turtle-mobile with Chat Noir beside him as his passenger, racing the sports car across the rug toward his friends so they can play with his new toys, too.

Adrien looks from his son to his own best friend, and Nino gives him a thumbs up and a grin.

*****

Later, when the dishes are washed and their living room looks slightly less like a turtle habitat, Adrien sits on the sofa with a cup of tea and watches Hugo play with his new, treasured birthday gifts. The Shell-ter Secret Hideout Super Bunker is open, its many accessories strewn around Hugo where he sits cross-legged, Carapace in his left hand and Chat Noir in his right.

"I'll protect you!" "Carapace" cries, Hugo's voice pitched to sound brave and true but still carrying his sweet child's tone.

"Thank you for keeping My Lady safe, Carapace!"

Adrien snorts a surprised laugh into his tea. "Chat Noir" speaks in a husky growl, though Hugo gives him a note of cheery confidence, as though he truly appreciates Carapace's brave deeds, as though Chat Noir can take the decisive cataclysmic swing knowing his beloved partner is safe from harm.

And honestly, Hugo has the right of it. Adrien wonders how his son could possibly know that this exact scene - with slightly different dialogue, of course - played out many times over, years before he was born.

Hugo mimics the sound of an explosion, then an "oof!" as Chat Noir falls to his back but springs up again quickly. Just as Carapace returns to Chat's side with a confident, "What can I do to help save the day, Chat Noir?", Marinette's hands snake around Adrien's shoulders from behind, surprising him.

He sets his mug on a coaster on the end table and wraps his hands around her forearms, pulling her in closer. Leaned over the back of the sofa, she nuzzles his cheek with hers before pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"I think we pulled off the dream turtle party pretty well, don't you, Chaton?"

"Oh, we turtle-y did."

Adrien delights in the huff of laughter she exhales against his cheek. That might be the most overused pun in the house, but sometimes it still lands just right. They watch Hugo play, matching grins making their cheeks press closer together.

"Looks like that was one shell of a gift, eh?"

He swoons dramatically, his head falling to the back cushion of the sofa so he looks at Marinette upside-down. "My Lady, you know what it does to me when you pun."

"Oh, I do," she says, completely unapologetic, and boops his nose.

He just has to lean up to kiss her because, well, she's so beautiful and he loves her so much and she's right there.

They break apart a moment later when they hear Emma call for Marinette from her bedroom. She plants one last upside-down kiss on his forehead and lets her hands drift slowly across his chest and shoulders as she stands.

She gives him a wry smile. "Duty calls."

"Hmmm," he hums thoughtfully, picking up his tea and taking another sip. "And here I thought her name was Emma."

Marinette groans at him as she walks away, and the sound catches Hugo's attention.

"Papa? Will you play superheroes with me?"

Of course. Always. I will never, ever be too busy for my kittens, he thinks.

"Sure, buddy," he says instead.

Finishing his tea in one big gulp, he slides from the sofa and scampers on hands and knees like a giant cat to where his son is playing. Hugo giggles at his dad's ridiculousness.

Adrien takes stock of the many accessories scattered around the play set and asks, "What are Chat Noir and Carapace up to today?"

Hugo explains the situation, the bad guy's motives, and what the heroes need to do to save Paris from disaster. Adrien listens carefully. Looking up at him with green eyes that match his own, big and wide and crinkled at the corners with his happy smile, Hugo offers the Chat Noir action figure to his dad.

"Will you be Chat Noir, Papa? He's Carapace's best friend in the world and they need to work together to save the day."

Adrien cradles the action figure in one hand and gently pats the pocket where Plagg hides with the other. His kwami presses a paw against his chest in return. Overwhelmed, all he can do is grin at Hugo and try not to cry.

"It would be my greatest honor," he vows grandly, holding up a hand in oath. "I purr-omise to be the best hero I can be. Cat's honor."

Hugo laughs. "You said honor twice."

"So I did. That's because it's very important."

His son nods solemnly, then reaches for Carapace's super jet. He places the hero in the cockpit and flies the jet around his head, making zooming noises.

"Are you ready, Chat Noir? I'm coming to pick you up!"

The jet has only one seat, but that doesn't seem to bother Hugo. Adrien readies the tiny plastic baton in Chat Noir's hand and uses it to vault from his own knee into the imaginary sky over Paris.

"Meow-velous!" he crows, delighted. "This cat is ready to be whiskered away in your very realistic jet! Allons-y, my turtle friend!"

Hugo giggles, Adrien's heart melts, and they set off on a grand adventure together.

[wish-that-i-was-buckys-girl]

Dad’s Best Friend

Summary: Your Dad’s Best Friend, Lee Bodecker, is a close family friend who helps and protects you at all costs. But all he is is a family friend, right?

Warnings: Mentions of a Peeping Tom, Smut, Daddy Kink, choking, perverted comments, maybe slight dub-con?

A/N: Hey everyone! This is my first time writing on tumblr, so I hope you enjoy! This story is also on my ao3, but I saw how much love Lee was getting on tumblr, so I decided to make a blog for fan fictions. Please be gentle with criticism, this is my first time writing smut. However, don’t be afraid to voice your opinion! This is a modern day AU. Lee is soft in this one, there are no dark elements. If you squint maybe it’s dub-con, but I don’t see it that way. However, I added it to the warnings just in case. If there are any more warnings I need to add just let me know and I happily will. This is a learning experience for me! If this receives enough love, I left it open for it to make it a mini-series, or maybe do more drabbles about it. I hope you enjoy!

________________________________________

(Not my gif)

You moved to Knockemstiff when you were 6 years old. Your mother, a local politician, got hired in the little town of Ohio 15 years ago. She began working as a town council member, eventually working her way up to being the mayor.

Being the mayor’s daughter had some perks. You always got complimentary food at the local diners. The business owners wanted to get in good with your mother, for whatever reason. You weren’t sure what your mother had to offer that could help them, but food is food and free pancakes are free pancakes. You never really understood politics yourself. You understood federal level and a little bit of state, but local politics (although some claim it to be the most important) bored the shit out of you.

You even knew the town police. You grew close to Deputy Howser. He was a little older than you, but you got along well and frequented drinking together on the weekends with some of your other friends. Your father, however, got close with the Sheriff. Your father was a stay-at-home dad, your mother bringing in all the money you could ever need. They both didn’t mind, and it was easier growing up to have at least one parent at home. Although Sheriff Bodecker didn’t think being a stay-at-home dad exuded masculinity, he was still your fathers’ friend, nonetheless. They bonded over shitty beer, sports, and candy.

The Sheriff, although you didn’t hang out with him, was another authority figure in your life that you always had to worry about. You couldn’t go out with friends. You knew this because of one mishap you had with your friends. Everyone was home from college, meaning there would be a huge party. You and your friend, Jenny, we’re only 20 at the time. You went, got extremely drunk, and the cops were called.

Of course, you had to be laying on the couch, shirt off, when Sheriff Bodecker arrived. He picked you up by your waist, bring your limp frame against his sturdy body.

“Do I need to tell your father about this darlin’?”

You whined against his chest

“Nooooo, don’t tell my daaaddddyyy”

His cock swelled at the word.

Daddy

He didn’t understand why and just tried to push it deep down.

“Well, doll, I think I can keep this secret for you. Just this once though. If I see you in this state again before you turn 21, I’m going to have to take you in. I can’t show favorites in this town.”

You looked up and smiled at him groggily

“But aren’t I your favorite, Sheriff?”

This wasn’t the only instance in when you ran into the trouble with the Sheriff. You also had a habit of smoking, and more frequently, eating illegal substances.

“Hey darlin’, you’re looking a little tired today,” he said entering your kitchen, “do you need to take a nap or somethin’?”

You reacted slow.

You looked up to him with half-open eyes.

“.....what?”

He knew. He knew from the moment you looked at you.

He just smiled. He wouldn’t snitch as long you were safe. You were in your house, and he and your father were there to protect you if anything happened.

“Go take a nap sweetheart. I’ll go get you when the takeout gets here.”

You smiled and nodded. Before going upstairs, you leaned in to give him a hug.

You whispered, “Thanks Lee.”

______________________________________

Deputy Howser walked into your place of work, a retail store.

You spotted him from the back, where you were steaming shirts to put out on the rack.

“Hey!” you shouted at him from across the store.

“Hey!” He stated walking towards you, “You gonna be home tonight?”

“I suppose I should be, why?”

“Well, I might advise against it” he said worried.

“And why is that?”

“Well... as you know it’s poker night, and all the guys from the station are gonna be coming over to your house to play.”

“Yes, I do know this, and what about it?”

“Well, I just, I know how some of the guys down at the station can get when they start drinking, and I’m not so sure I would want you in that environment.”

“I have to ask again, why is that?”

“It’s just... it’s just that you’re a young woman, a beautiful one at that, and they might make certain comments that would make you feel uncomfortable.”

You scoffed. “I think I’ll be fine David. I can hold my own yknow.”

“I know, I know. I just, I don’t wanna see you get hurt or see you uncomfortable.”

“I promise, I’ll be fine. I’ll see you when I get off work, okay?”

“Okay.” He said with slight hesitation. “See ya then.”

______________________________________

You walked through your front door, yelling to your father that you were home.

“Dad! I’m home! Sorry, I got out a little bit late tonight.”

“Hey sweetheart, I’m in the dining room with the guys. Come say hi.”

You began to walk back to the dining room to say hello.

You immediately regretted it.

“Hey baby, come here often?” One of them joked.

“You wanna come sit down sweetheart? You look like you’ve had a long day. I gotta spot waiting for ya” another stated, patting his lap.

You awkwardly smiled and waved at them. Your father, David, and Lee all had angry expressions plastered on their face. They didn’t say anything as to not upset the men. They needed almost every single one for a successful poker night. It was just easier to not start anything.

“It’s nice seeing you all” you said through gritted teeth, not meaning a single word.

“I’m gonna go upstairs now, and if you gentleman would stick to the downstairs bathroom that would be great.”

You needed to take a shower, but you weren’t going to announce that to a room full of drunken men, who were obviously having too much fun as it was.

You turned on your heel and scurried up the steps. You ran into the bathroom immediately, locking the door behind you.

God, I hate poker nights.

You stared at yourself in the mirror before stepping into the shower. You didn’t even understand why they were hitting on you so much. In your eyes, at least, there wasn’t much to look at, or even desire. You were insecure but tried not to show it. There were good days, and bad days. Today just happened to be a bad day.

You poked and prodded your every insecurity, hoping that this would remedy the issues and make them disappear.

It wasn’t successful.

You finally decided to get undressed and get in the shower. Your turned both nozzles on, waiting for the water to get warm. Once it was a comfortable temperature you stepped in the shower, letting your mind wander.

You never knew why, but your mind always wanted to think about the sheriff. His muscular figure, with his big belly to give him some cushion so he was soft enough to lay on. His cute nose. And his uniform. He looked so stern and yet soft at the same time. Ready to kick someone’s ass but also ready to protect you when he needed to.

You were pulled from your thoughts as you heard a slight chuckle coming from the doorway. You pulled back the curtain to reveal the door was cracked. No one was there, but you could’ve sworn you shut and locked it upon entering just moments ago. You were leery but decided to let it go. You continued to wash your body and your hair. You heard the chuckle again. You didn’t hesitate this time, pulling back the curtain as fast as you could, but still covering your body.

You made direct eye contact with another man from the office. You couldn’t think of his name in that exact moment, being too mortified to even let your thoughts process what was going on.

You screamed. You screamed as loud as you could prompting Officer Dowd to begin sprinting down the stairs. Fortunately, your father and Lee were up in a flash hearing you scream. He was caught.

Lee shoved Officer Dowd against the wall as you wrapped yourself in a towel and made it halfway down the steps.

“Looks like we got a peepin’ Tom. You like looking at girls in the shower huh? You like it when you get to stare at them with their clothes off?”

He didn’t let Officer Dowd answer the question. Lee gave him a swift punch to the face before another breath escaped his body.

Officer Dowd landed on the ground with a thud. Lee got on the ground and spoke to him lightly.

“Now let that be a warnin’. If I catch you anywhere near Y/N again, I’ll put you in the damn ICU. And that is a promise you bet I’m keeping. I know we’re playin’ poker, but I ain’t bluffin’.”

Lee stood up abruptly and say your father holding you as you sobbed into his chest.

He hated to see you cry.

Lee remembered the first time he ever saw you extremely distraught. Some local high school boys were making fun of how you looked. He knew that sort of stuff normally didn’t bother you, but he could tell what they said was more than a few insults.

You came through the door absolutely sobbing. Lee happened to be over at the time, concerned something worse may have happened to you. You explained some stupid high school boys were just harassing you and you shouldn’t be as upset as you were. He held you for two hours that day trying to get you to calm down. He had never felt a pit in his stomach like that before in his life.

He loathed that people made you feel this way.

Your father finally spoke “I think it’s safe to say poker night is over. If you have any issues, I’m sure Bodecker would love to speak to you right now.”

______________________________________

As the men cleared out, Deputy Howser and Lee stayed to make sure you were okay.

They waited until your father calmed you down.

Deputy Howser came in first. He totally wanted to say “I told you so” but he didn’t. Thank god. You think you might have punched him if he did. Instead, he just told you how his wife would bake you your favorite cookies tomorrow and he would bring them over after work. You thanked him, finally leaving. To be honest, you just wanted to be alone.

That was, until you saw Lee come into your room to check on you. You didn’t even know he was still here. You knew he cares about you, but not to this extent. Deputy Howser was your best friend, and obviously your dad cares, but Lee was only a family friend. You saw him all the time, but this was different.

“Hey darlin’, how ya feelin’?”

You smirked “How would you feel if you caught a grown man trying to spy on you while you were taking a shower?”

He smiled back “Fair ‘nough”

He closed the door behind him and sat down on the bed next to you.

It was silent for a moment. You appreciated it, but it was still awkward. You decided to be bold.

“How come you stuck around to check on me?”

Lee was taken aback by this question. He just punched a man for you, why would he not stay to check snd make sure you were doing okay?

“Sweetheart, I just socked the man who was tryin’ to do you harm. Why wouldn’t I stick around to make sure you were okay?”

You thought for a moment.

“I just didn’t think you cared about me that much.”

Again, Lee was shocked. How could you be saying this?

“Y/N, if I didn’t care about ya, your dad would’ve known about all your shenanigans a long time ago. Course I care about ya. You mean a lot to me.”

Your stomach started to turn. Not in a queasy way, but more nervous. You didn’t know why.

“Lee?”

“Yes darlin’?”

“Would you, would you mind if you gave me a hug before you left? I just, I need to be held right now.”

He sat there and thought for a moment. About what, you don’t know, but he finally nodded and opened his arms. You took it upon yourself to sit in his lap while he wrapped his arms around you.

You could hear his heartbeat and breathing. It was soothing. You needed that after the day you had.

Something in the air felt off though. You weren’t sure what, but you knew it felt different.

You looked to Lee for a response but all he had to offer was a soft smile. Your faces were dangerously close to one another. He caressed your hair, lovingly while you continued to stare into each other’s eyes.

You decided to be bold.

You leaned in quickly for a kiss.

At first, Lee resisted, confused as to what was going on, but eventually gave into your soft lips.

You held them there for a moment, enjoying the touch. You began to deepen the kiss as time went on, sucking on his lower lip while he sucked on your upper lip. You stayed that way for what felt like an eternity. Lee began to dip his tongue into your mouth. You accepted it and continued like this for even longer. The passion in the way he was kissing and holding you was unreal. Unlike your ex-boyfriend Lance, he seemed to care that you were enjoying it too.

You finally pulled apart and made eye contact.

He smirked.

“This isn’t what I thought was gonna happen when you said you needed to be held.”

You smiled back

“Just shut up and kiss me.”

You went in for another kiss, but Lee quickly spun you around and pinned you to the bed.

“I know ya got a mouth on ya doll, but I call the shots. Talk like that again and I’ll have to spank your ass.”

“Yes, Sheriff.” You said coyly.

“Although I love you calling me Sheriff, you’ll address me as daddy.”

Your pussy throbbed at the sound of calling him that.

“Yes, daddy.”

He smiled.

“How bout we get these clothes off?”

You nodded eagerly. He ripped off your clothes in a flash, with no time to waste. He had already been in your room for an uncomfortable amount of time. Your father might come in at any moment.

“Can I touch this pretty pussy, babydoll?” He stated, hovering over your mound.

You nodded again, almost breathless at the thought of him touching you.

He slowly entered you with two fingers. A soft moan escaped your lips, grabbing onto his other arm that was propping him up.

“Fuck, you’re so tight darlin’, can’t wait to put my cock in you.”

He pumped in and out of you at a slow pace. He didn’t know how much experience you had, trying to be as gentle as possible.”

“Daddy go faster.”

“Daddy go faster, what?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Daddy go faster, please.”

He grabbed the sides of your throat lightly to assert dominance. You assume it was because you rolled your eyes. Damn your attitude sometimes.

“Now, we don’t roll our eyes at our daddy, do we?”

“No, I promise I won’t do it again daddy. Please go faster.”

He obliged and starts pumping his fingers in and out of you at a rapid pace. A louder moan escaped your lips again, this time Lee shot his hand up to cover your mouth.

“Shhh, we have to be quiet darlin’. Wouldn’t want your old man to find out what we were doin’. I don’t see it endin’ well for either of us.”

You nodded as you rode his fingers. Your walls fluttered around his fingers. You felt the right coil in your stomach, preparing yourself for an orgasm.

Just as you felt the wave of pleasure coming, Lee pulled his fingers out of you.

You looked up in confusion, only to see Lee with his pants pulled down and holding his cock.

Wow.

He was huge.

He began stroking it.

“You ready sweetheart?” He whispered into your ear softly.

You nodded again, just wanting to get back to the wave of pleasure you were about to experience.

“I don’t usually get to it this fast but considerin’ the circumstances I don’t wanna get caught.”

He began to press his head into you. He could feel you squeeze around him, driving him absolutely insane.

“Goddamn darlin’, I ain’t gonna last long if you’re this tight.”

You smiled, glad to make him feel good.

He leaned down to kiss you as he slowly started to pump in and out of you.

You moaned against his lips, unable to keep yourself from being quiet. His lips thankfully muffled your moans. He continued to pump in and out “fuck baby, tell me how bad you want it.”

You whispered against him “I want it so bad daddy, please go faster. Fuck me as hard as you can.”

Lee couldn’t control himself. He picked up his pace and began pounding into you, careful not to make too much noise with the bed frame.

“Oh fuck, daddy, oh god don’t stop.”

“You like this baby? Huh? You like how your daddy pounds your pussy?”

You nodded, almost completely incoherent and responded with a soft “yes daddy, god yes.”

The coil in your stomach came back, making you arch your back, also allowing Lee to fuck you deeper.

Lee began speaking again “Who’s pussy does this belong to?”

“It belongs to you daddy!”

“Keep sayin’ it, keep telling’ me who owns this pussy”

“You daddy, oh god it belongs to you!”

The wave of pleasure began to wash over you as you climaxed.

“That’s it baby, cum all over my cock, fuck yeah just like that” Lee whispered back.

Lee could tell you were about to moan, so he covered your mouth just in time for you to cum. Only seconds later did Lee let out a similar moan, muffled by his head being buried in your hair. He pulled out of you abruptly and began stroking his cock. He came all over your stomach and tits, making a mess of your body. He quickly got up and put his clothes on, also grabbing tissues to wipe off your body.

You laid on the bed, left breathless of what transpired.

Lee laid down next to you, only for a little bit. He didn’t want to fuck you and leave. He was better than that. Well, at least he thought he was. Other women might not agree.

You slid over to lay on his chest, still completely undressed.

You laid like this for a little while before looking to Lee.

“Lee?”

“What sweetheart?”

“Can we add this to the list of ‘shenanigans’ you won’t be telling my father?”

[mythicamagic]

“If i asked you to stay, would you?” Please ❤️

Decided to do a continuation of - this drunk Kagome prompt

Also, all prompts have been posted to Ao3, fanfiction.net and Dokuga if anyone wants to read them there ^^

---

Inserting a spare key into the lock, Sesshoumaru casually let himself into Kagome’s apartment the next day around noon after hearing a loud groan answer his knock. 

Stepping over some discarded heels and shedding his human glamour mid-step, he found Kagome messily sprawled over her bed. 

Blue eyes cracked open, and she winced. 

“Sesshoumaru...I think I’m dying.”

“I did tell you to drink water before passing out,” he intoned flatly, lifting a bag of food from Zubway into view. 

Kagome groggily sat up, rubbing her head and sighing. “You did, huh? Was I really bad?”

“The usual amount of drunk, I’d say,” thin lips quirked as he left to grab some water, bringing a full glass back. 

Kagome accepted it, along with a painkiller. “Thank you so much. You’re the absolute best.”

Sesshoumaru’s golden eyes flickered. They strayed away, and he fell quiet as they both dug into their food. Kagome barely had the stomach for it, but forced herself to eat, knowing it would make her feel better in the long run. She managed half of her sandwich, before leaning back against her pillows with a hungover sigh. 

“You know...I think some things are coming back to me,” she mumbled, squinting. 

Sesshoumaru hummed, hardly expecting anything miraculous to be remembered. 

Kagome blanched after a moment, blue eyes widening. “D-did I...say something weird about your butt?”

A wicked smirk came to his lips, delighting in her humiliated whine of defeat. 

“Oh nooo- go on. Lay it on me.”

“This one seems to recall you wanting to bite my ‘cute butt.’”

“Nooooo!” she fell face first into her pillow, the noises coming out muffled. 

“And then you wished to lick me-”

The sounds of embarrassment rose higher. 

His tone dropped into a low whisper, “you also said that you loved me.”

Kagome’s head rose, fumbling with her dishevelled hair, “hm? What was that last one? Your voice was too quiet.”

“I said you wanted to lick honey from my person-”

“Nooooooooo!”

Smirking, Sesshoumaru rose from the bed to dispose of their trash, glancing at her rumpled form furtively from the corner of his eye. 

It was for the best. If she’d really meant it, then surely Kagome would’ve told him by now. The only reason he kept his own silence was because of how fragile it all felt. 

Because this- spending easy time with her- being her companion, all of it was more than enough. The inuyoukai had been alone for so many years, by design of course. Only a select few were permitted close.

Ultimately, his relationship with Kagome Higurashi was too precious to be mishandled. If he confronted her- only for the miko to become awkward around him, he couldn’t...take it. 

Sesshoumaru reached down, hooking his claws under the strap of her tight black dress that had slipped decadently off one shoulder, staring into her eyes- mascara smudged on her lashes. “You should change out of the clothes you wore last night,” he said softly.

Kagome blinked, reddening a little. Eventually she gave a nod, watching him walk to the threshold of her door. 

“Sesshoumaru?”

He paused, “hn?”

“Was there something else? Any other odd things I might’ve said?”

Turning to face her, he couldn’t quite keep the intrigue from his voice. “Such as?”

“...I dunno, but…” Kagome chewed on her bottom lip maddeningly. His chest flared, hunger rising in his throat. Fangs ached. She was such a tease- no- he shook himself firmly. 

“If any stuff I said when I was drunk made you uncomfortable, we could talk about that.”

“None of it made me uncomfortable.”

“I guess you are pretty difficult to embarrass,” she mumbled, bowing slightly. “But still, I’m sorry for any trouble I caused.”

Sesshoumaru smiled slightly, assuring her, before continuing out of the room. A sense of missed opportunity heavily pervaded the air as he let out a slow exhale, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Foolishness.

---

The next time she got drunk was strangely two nights later, which was very odd in itself. Kagome did not drink so frequently. 

And especially not alone. 

“Come overrr,” she’d slurred down the phone. “We can have a sleepover!”

Sesshoumaru’s claws bit into the leather of his armchair, considering this, “I do not think that wise-”

“I’m gonna run through the halls, naked~”

“I will be right there,” he grunted, hanging up.

---

Her apartment lay on the fifth floor, and when Sesshoumaru reached her door, hearing nothing from inside- a sense of disquiet filled him with dread. 

Kagome was a happy drunk. She was a stupid fool who loved everyone and showered them with affection. 

Finding her inside sitting on the sofa- with the glassy look of unshed tears in her dark eyes, Sesshoumaru stopped and wondered how well he even knew her at all.

She collapsed into his arms the second he offered them. 

Making low noises of comfort, Sesshoumaru lifted the miko onto his lap, combing deadly claws through her hair. 

“What ails you?” he rumbled, kissing her behind the ear. He then winced, reminding himself not to take liberties with her person.

“I-I feel so happy,” Kagome sobbed, clinging tight around his shoulders.

Sesshoumaru blinked, rubbing her back in soothing circles using his large palm. “That is an issue?”

“It is!” she wailed, hiding her face. “B-because, I feel so guilty for it, all the time...all the time,” the words trailed off into a whisper.

“Why, miko?”

“Because I loved Inuyasha…and you’re his brother,” she breathed. “Because I miss my friends, but if someone asked me to give you up in order to see them again- I...I couldn't.”

Her grip tightened around him, shoulders shaking.

“And because -when we’re doing friend stuff, I don’t think of you as a friend- well I do-” she stumbled over her words. “Only I- I can’t help but hope for more. Wishing- and that’s not fair! It’s not fair to you! I never...thought I’d be happy again after the stupid bone well shut, but you fill me with...joy.”

Kagome stared at him suddenly, her face much too close. 

Before Sesshoumaru could react, or do much of anything since he was already rendered speechless by her chatter- she’d pressed her soft lips to his. The action sent him reeling. His attention focused razer sharp on the sensation- of the tight grip she kept on his clothes. How she trembled with want of him. 

Sesshoumaru inwardly purred, feeling a glow light up inside him.  He reached for her hair- before she abruptly pulled away. 

“And I just really think your butt is cute! I wanna grab it so bad that I feel like I’ve turned into Miroku! I-I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he panted, a strange warmth dusting his cheeks. “Is this why you only tell me such things when you’re drunk? You’re too ashamed to say them in the cold light of day?”

“Guess so. You’re so smart,” she slurred, resting her cheek against his shoulder and tiredly booping his nose. “Love you.”

“Hn, so you have mentioned,” Sesshoumaru uttered, casting his frazzled mind back. “Many times.”

But now a sense of understanding filled his rattled senses, and his own fears were swiftly being laid to rest. 

Kagome hugged him tight, and Sesshoumaru returned it, cradling her close.

“If I asked you to stay, would you?” she murmured.

Midsummer eyes slid shut, confessing a very real truth. “I would do anything you asked of me, miko.”

---

When Kagome rose that morning, clinging to his solid body tightly and lifting her head to meet his gaze, Sesshoumaru cupped her cheek. 

“Sesshoumaru, what-? Mmfh?!”

A warm mouth fiercely crashed into hers, arms wrapping around her. She tasted terrible, and the kiss was sloppy- not at all perfect. He adored it anyway the second she tentatively kissed back- touching his hair gingerly.

She’d been like him, he realised, purring with satisfaction as he deepened the kiss, hitching her thigh over his waist. Too afraid to pursue anything, for fear of harming what they had. 

Grabbing Kagome’s hand, Sesshoumaru forced it to the curve of his ass, permitting her to grope it. She could bite it if she wanted, he hardly cared. She squeaked, eliciting a devilish smile against her mouth.

He wanted to reassure her. He wanted her to know that she didn’t need to get drunk anymore to permit herself to love him. She could confess her deepest desires and he’d listen to each and every one.

Kissing her hard, Sesshoumaru inhaled her scent and dragged his lips across her cheek, hissing lowly in her ear;

“I love you too, foolish woman.”

[glacecakes]

Alchemy Lullaby (7/?)

Of all the changes that came with living in the castle, becoming a father was not one he anticipated. When Eugene encounters a small child suffering like he did, he gives them the opportunity to grow up the way he never did... helping them both heal. (AU where Varian is 4 and gets adopted by Eugene)

Part 7: Varian spends his first Christmas with his family. There is no actual plot it's just fluff

Read the rest on AO3 

Part of an art trade for the lovely @finnoky once again! Finn is my partner in crime on this au so major shout out to him <3 Yes we are aware it is Halloween season but a) the timeline dictates Christmas and b) JUST LET ME HAVE MY CHRISTMAS SEROTONIN

Also a massive shoutout to the Scar Varian discord, who's support has cured my depression. And all of you! Seriously, the love for this fic is insane I don't know how to handle it lol. If you want more baby Varian content dm me! The Scar Varian server is where we brainstorm baby ideas like, daily. And it's a riot. If you have any ideas you wanna see for this AU send me an ask!  Also the next chapter is gonna be a world of pain enjoy this while it lasts

The castle was abuzz with joy. The maids flitted around the halls, some even humming as they strung up lights and garlands. The frosted windows shone light through their wreaths, basking everything in a wintery-white glow. Even Old Lady Crowley seemed less angry than normal, barking out orders at only half volume. 

Spinning around, Rapunzel hums an old Christmas song. She’s always loved this time of year! Christmas was watching snow, and cuddling up by the fire with chocolate, and cooking gingerbread…! There was so much to be excited about! Even if she never had an official Christmas with her family yet, her steps were light as a feather, confident in this year’s success. Her previous Christmases had been quiet, just her and sometimes Gothel. Now, she had a mother, a father, a boyfriend, and his son! To think, exactly one year ago she never would have thought this could be possible.

The princess twirled to a stop in the throne room. The place was decked to the nines, ribbons and garland and all sorts of red decorated every inch. And in the corner sat a perfect pine, already decorated head to toe. The candles shone down on a confused, pudgy face.

Varian tugged at one of the ornaments. Not hard enough for it to fall, but enough for it to jingle.

Oh, that’s right! She’s not the only one celebrating a first Christmas with family!

The little boy fiddled with the pine needles, marvelling at the bristles and poking soft fingers into needles. He stuck his tongue out and stood on his tiptoes, reaching for a candy cane tied to a higher branch. If only he was a little taller…!

Strong, warm hands wrapped around his stomach and lifted him skyward. 

“Need a hand?” 

Varian looked up at the princess and beamed. “Hi Punzel!”

“Hello, Varian. Did you want the candy cane?”

Varian blinked, confused. “No, I wanted the red hook.” He grabbed the candy cane off the tree and held up his prize. “See?” 

“That’s a candy cane, but it’s just for decoration. If you want actual candy canes, you can head down to the kitchens.” the princess gently took the decor from his hands. 

He frowned, trying to commit the term to memory. “What’s it for?”

“The candy canes?”

“No, the tree!” He yelled right into her ear. 

“Woah, inside voice.” Varian zipped his lip. “It’s for Christmas.”

“Ooooh. What’s that?” he asked.

Rapunzel’s smile fell off her face near instantly. How do you explain a holiday to a toddler…?

“Well, um,” she started. “It’s a day where we all get together and celebrate being a family. We exchange gifts under the tree, and eat snacks, and sing songs… there’s a lot of stuff to do! It’s very fun, you’ll like it a lot, I promise.” 

Thankfully, that seemed to satisfy him. “Celebrate family… like momma?”

“More like you, and me, and Eugene,” Well, and Cass and Lance and her parents, but no overwhelming the baby. Little at a time. 

Baby blue eyes glanced down at the floor. “But… momma is family.” 

There was no denying the wasps in her heart, stinging at the mention of Varian’s mother. How they burrowed deep, whispering how the boy saw Eugene as his father, but not Rapunzel as his mother. It was selfish, she knew it. Varian was much closer to Eugene, he was practically the man’s shadow. But as Eugene’s girlfriend (and hopefully future wife), there was no denying the wish for Varian to see her in a similar light.

Varian still saw that woman as family? That’s ok, he still needed time. Or maybe he’d always see her as family. That was ok too. But hopefully, they could assure Varian that his real family, his loving family, was there for him this Christmas.  

“Varian,” she whispered, gently lifting his chin to face him. “Family loves you, protects you. It’s ok if you still love your momma, but you weren’t safe with her. That’s why you have us now! We’re your family too, and we’ll celebrate Christmas with you, ok?” 

Varian nodded weakly, wrapping short arms around her waist. Outstretched arms squeezed him tight. Then, he broke off, skittering out of the throne room and likely towards the kitchen for those treats.

Rapunzel sighed as she watched him go. He was a smart little thing, learning faster than anyone could teach. On more than one occasion she spotted the precocious kid trying to heave a too heavy book around the library. One thing he was particularly fond of were the sciences. From Astronomy to Zoology, Varian ate it all up, greedily grabbing any book that even looked like it was informational. He was also a big fan of the Flynn Rider series, but that may be more because Eugene was so eager to share it with him. Ever since Lance told him Eugene used to be Flynn Rider, Varian assumed he’d meant the book Flynn, and his love for his dad became near fervent in nature. 

But while Varian adored learning about the world around him, there were certain things he struggled to pick up. Social cues were a big one. He was dreadfully shy around strangers, and a little hellion to those he knew. On one memorable occasion, Varian had insisted on dressing himself, resulting in a day of backwards shirts and missing pants. Anytime Eugene tried to fix it, he’d screamed like the man was stabbing him. 

Poor Eugene had needed a drink after that. 

The point is, Varian loved to learn, but he still struggled with sociability, not unlike Rapunzel when she first came home. It sounded like he grew up in the same way, isolated from other people, relying only on a controlling mother. Thankfully, Varian was saved at a much younger age. Rapunzel could only pray that meant he’d flourish now.

-

Varian struggled to understand the world around him sometimes. 

There were some things he understood perfectly well, like how Ruddiger was his friend. There were some things he knew were true but didn’t really get why, like how his family hated his momma. And there were some things he was completely lost on, which in this case, was Christmas. 

Everyone around him was so cheery, so lively, even more so than usual. Whenever he asked why, he got the same answer: It’s almost Christmas! Christmas is tomorrow! But when he asked what Christmas was, what Rapunzel meant by singing and eating and gifts, everyone had a different answer! How was he supposed to figure it out if everyone had a different idea of what Christmas was? 

Everyone was busy preparing for… something. Varian wasn’t sure what. A party, maybe? So soon after the last one? That party sucked, but at least he got to introduce Ruddiger to everyone.

After that debacle, Eugene hadn’t been so keen on letting Varian keep the baby raccoon. The boy wasn’t even 5 yet, how was he supposed to care for his own pet? Rapunzel mentioned she’d been about his age when she met Pascal, but apparently a chameleon and raccoon are two very different things. Bummer.

Eventually, they settled on a compromise: Ruddiger was an outdoor animal who belonged outdoors, but during the winter and night he was allowed to be inside. And once Varian got older, he might be allowed to keep Ruddiger full time! 

Since it was snowing today, Ruddiger got to happily trail the child, keeping close to his feet as they traversed the castle. He said hi to the maids and guards as he walked by, but right now, Varian was trying to find his family. He technically wasn’t allowed to wander the castle alone, but King Frederick was really the only stickler about that rule. Varian had survived 6 months on the street, he could survive the short walk to and fro. 

Just as he passed the kitchens, a sweet smell tickled his nose, followed by a deep, familiar voice singing. His pet noticed it too, already waddling into the kitchen. Varian followed, and sure, enough, Eugene’s best friend was there.

“Hi Lance!” Varian squeaked. He latched onto the burly man’s legs. 

Lance leaned down from his place by the stove. He’d just finished taking the gingerbread out of the oven, the golden brown sizzling on the sheet. Carefully, so as not to drop the sheet on the child, Lance set the cookies down with one hand and ruffled black hair with another. 

“Hey there, kiddo! I thought I told you to call me Uncle Lance,” he grinned at how Varian squirmed under his palm.

Varian giggled. “Eugene said you’re not really my uncle.” Those giggles doubled at Lance’s mock offended face. 

“After everything we’ve been through, after all I’ve done for him, and he won’t call me a brother!” He gripped his chest, and his knees sunk to the floor. “It hurts… my heart…” with an overdramatic wail, Lance fell back and squished Varian to the floor. His weight wasn’t entirely on this child, he didn’t want to crush him, but it was enough to send Varian sprawling. 

Honestly, Varian didn’t get why Eugene was so against him calling Lance his uncle. He didn’t even know what an Uncle was! Shrieking laughter emanated from the toddler. “Lance!! Get off!” He said.

“Sorry, can’t, Lance is dead.”

“Nooooo!”

“Yesssss, the only cure,” the thief sighed, “Is for a brave, smart kid to call him… uncle…”

“Uncle Lance!” Varian shrieked. “Uncle Lance get off!” Almost instantly he sat upright, freeing his prisoner. 

“I live!” He cried, scooping Varian up and standing. “Thank you, sweet child!” He smushed their cheeks together in joy, only letting go when he had to bat Ruddiger away from his creation. 

“No bud! Gingerbread is bad for raccoons… probably,” 

Varian hadn’t heard that word before. “Gingerbread?” It smelled so good, surely Lance wouldn’t mind if he stole one, right? The guy adored him.

“Ah-ah!” Lance spun away from the stove, cookies now out of reach. He ignored the whines. “Gingerbread cookies can only be eaten if they’re decorated.” Setting Varian on a nearby counter, the man grabbed a few icing pipettes and candy pieces. “Gingerbread men need gingerbread clothes!” 

The next hour was filled with messy cookies and sprawling icing. White sugar covered nearly every surface, as Varian couldn’t figure out the right pressure to use a pipette. Eventually he gave up, letting Lance do the drawing while he added buttons and eyes in the form of candies. Every so often, Varian would hand a small treat to Ruddiger, enjoying fuzzy whiskers that tickled his hand. It was a comfortable silence, both of them invested in their individual activity. By the time Lance finally spoke again, the sun had tracked across the room and shone through the window. 

“So,” he said, tongue sticking out as he drew a face onto his cookie. “Why Eugene?” His companion stuck his head up, confused. He licked the sugar off his fingers. “What about him made you want to stay with him?”

Varian glanced down, deep in thought. “He’s nice,” he started. “He gives me lots of hugs, and makes me laugh.”

“Yea? What else?”

“Eugene is… super cool! He’s pretty, and he let me keep Ruddiger, and he loves me…” his small voice trailed off. The heat from sunlight warmed his bones, layering him in laziness. A yawn escaped him. 

He was just about to doze off, mind still trying to think of compliments, when soft knocking shook him awake. Cassandra nodded at him, bundled up in her winter coat. 

“It’s high time someone got fresh air,” She said in her monotone voice, so Varian slid off the counter to join her. He waved to Lance on the way out, and off they went. 

No sooner than they left, Rapunzel peeked her head in. “Hey Lance! I have an idea…”

-

Ruddiger zoomed ahead, happily digging up snow and dirt to catch a meal. The winter sun was bright yet also weak, sparkling off snow mounds. Varian’s small boots kicked up powder as he walked, each step more exaggerated than need be. He gripped Cassandra’s hand tightly. Out of everyone Varian frequently interacted with, she scared him the most… except maybe for the King. But he trusted her not to let him get hurt, not after saving him from the Stabbingtons. 

Sure enough, she whispered “Careful, it’s slippery.” And lifted him up and over the patch of ice with just her hands. 

“Wow, you’re really strong,” She raised her eyebrow at him. 

“I have to be, it’s my job to keep Rapunzel safe.”

Just Rapunzel? Not him, not Eugene? What about the king? Didn’t they need protecting? Thankfully, Cassandra saw his confused face and smiled faintly. “And you, someone’s gotta clean up after you.”

“Eugene said it’s rude to leave things for the maids to clean up.” 

A look akin to shock overtook her face. She stopped walking, temporarily startled, forcing Varian to stop with her. “He said that?” A nod. “Huh. Guess he’s not a terrible father after all.”

That caught the child’s attention. Rage simmered in his gut, bubbling and twisting his insides around. He glared up at her with a look he hoped was intimidating, but judging by her veiled laughter, he’d failed. A booted foot stomped the snow, and by his side small black spikes sprouted. It wasn’t noticeable, only as tall as his shoelaces, but it was there regardless. Just as fast as it appeared, the rage fell down his body and leaked out into the earth.

“Don’t call Eugene bad,” Varian pouted, cheeks puffing up and lip jutting out. “He’s the best!”

“Oh yea? Why’s that?” Cassandra teased, resuming their walk. 

“He’s a reallllllly good reader. Like, really good. And he’s smart,” That got a laugh. “And he saved me!” 

“So did I,” she reminded him, but that just got her frustrated boot shuffles. At last the handmaiden took pity on him. “Ok, ok. I’m sorry I called Eugene a bad dad. He loves you very much, and you love him.” He preened. 

He went to speak, but soft crunches interrupted his train of thought. From around the bend, two familiar and burly men step into view. 

“...no word from either of them, but Hector never answers my letters anyway-” Quirin was speaking, with Frederick hanging onto his every word. Their faces were both solemn, stoic and businesslike. Whatever they were talking about, it was likely serious. But the seriousness evaporates when Quirin catches sight of the young child. “Hello there!” Frederick’s face remains impassive, but he seems to let the subject drop. At least for now. 

Something about Quirin just screams welcoming to Varian. It’s strange. His time on the streets as well as his encounter with the Stabbingtons should have made Varian terrified of men like him, but Quirin’s autumn scent and warm smile relaxed Varian. He grinned his toothy smile and waved. 

“Your majesty,” Cassandra bowed. The King nodded, and she stood back up. He gave Varian a nod as well, but he had no idea to react. Bow? Smile? Hide? All of those options sounded like a bad idea, so he just stood still for now. 

“Hello, Cassandra, Varian.” The latter name was said with a hint of apprehension. “Enjoying the weather?”

“Yes sir,” The lady-in-waiting responded, and she gently nudged Varian. He nodded frantically, so fast his head might as well have flown off. Quirin seemed amused, at least. 

“Don’t stay out too long, we don’t want this young man to catch a cold,” Quirin ruffled Varian’s hair, and the child blushed. 

“We won’t, sir.” Cassandra bowed to him as well. Satisfied, they moved on, leaving Varian and Cassandra to finish their walk around the castle ground. “Cassie? Who is Quirin?” 

She seemed surprised by the question. “Who is he? I think he’s an advisor, or something.”

“A what?”

“He helps the king.”

Varian’s mouth dropped open in an “o” shape. Who knew Kings needed help? Not him, that’s for sure! 

“Come on, let’s go inside, it’s getting cold.” She led him away, until Varian couldn’t see either man when he turned around. 

“As I was saying, Adira is hard to track down, but-” Quirin’s words halted as he stumbled over something. “What the…” A small cluster of black rocks, innocent and unflinching. The men shared a nervous glance. 

When Cassandra dropped Varian off inside, she watched as Varian toddled off to find Eugene, turned around, and came face to face with a Rapunzel grinning like a maniac. 

The princess covered her friend’s mouth before she could scream. “Come on! I need your help. We only have a few more hours!” Without any explanation, Cass found herself being dragged off to god knows where. 

-

Waking up on the early side was not new to Varian. Ever since he’d come to the castle, Eugene would drag him out of bed no later than 9:30 am. And he’d learned to adapt, even if Varian preferred to get up when the sun’s rays were directly overhead. But 7 was really pushing it. 

“Noooo!” He whined, clutching his sheets like a lifeline. “I don’t wanna get up!” 

Eugene grunted from where he was holding his legs. For a 4 year old Varian had a hell of a grip. “Come on, kid, you can go back to sleep when we’re done if you want! Don’t have to change out of your pjs either. But you gotta get up now or you’re gonna miss your surprise.” 

“Nooooo!” Varian wailed, burying his head into the duvet. 

“Yesssss.” 

With one final tug, Eugene managed to dislodge his child from his bed, sending them both sprawling on the floor. They laid there for a moment. Eugene questioned his life choices as Ruddiger rounded the bed and licked his face. 

He carried Varian down the corridor to the throne room. At this early hour, the only people about were night shift guards preparing to turn in. A strange quiet filled the castle, a sense of peace lingered. It would be a nice experience if Varian wasn’t bone-tired. Honestly who decided that 7 am was a normal time to get up? It was understandable during the summer, but not at Christmas!

Grand doors swung upon, revealing the same setup as yesterday, only several people sat under the tree. Familiar blonde hair swung around to reveal Rapunzel’s exuberant face. By her side stood her family plus Lance and Cass, all looking tired but content. Presents sat scattered, surrounded by pine needles that had fallen. 

“Merry Christmas!” She cried as she stood up and ran over. Both boys found themselves in a trademark bear hug. “It’s our first Christmas as a family, how exciting!” 

“Sunshine, you’re squishing meeee!” Eugene wheezed, face turning red. The princess paid him no heed, leading him (and by extension, Varian) over to the pile. Several gifts with multiple names in fun colors and patterns awaited them. It was at this time Varian realized he knew how to read most things, but his name was not one of them. Thankfully, Rapunzel was eager to hand out everyone’s gifts. Slowly Varian’s pile grew larger and larger.

Cassandra winced. “I think you went a little overboard, Raps,” 

“Nonsense! What makes you say that?” Cassandra pointed to where Varian sat by a pile larger than himself. He leaned against Eugene, eyes drooping. 

The man rustled his shoulder. “Wake up, kiddo, open your presents.”

“My what?”

“All those boxes, they’re for you! They have fun stuff inside them.”

“Like what?”

The gathering broke into chuckles. “Why don’t you find out?” asked Arianna. 

Curious eyes grabbed the largest box and fingers ran across its paper. Happy snowmen decorated the outside, and he was loathe to destroy it. But Rapunzel gave him a thumbs up, and that was all the invitation needed. With a war cry, Varian ripped off smiling snowmen with claw and fang. Even Ruddiger joined in on the mayhem, happily shaking his head as he held a piece of wrapping paper. The box gave way to…. Another box? But this one was on wheels.

A cart! A painted cart! It was light blue, just like his hair, and painted on the side was a name. Varian ran his fingers over it in confusion. 

“Ruddiger,” Eugene whispered. “It says Ruddiger. So he can stay with you.” Varian’s eyes lit up in understanding. Without any pomp, he scooped up the raccoon and plopped him straight into the cart, much to Ruddiger’s confusion. Then, like a shot out of a canon, they were off. Varian screeched with delight as he zoomed around the throne room, wheels clacking against the marble floor as Ruddiger chittered in similar joy. 

“So, I think he likes it!” Rapunzel chimed. 

“He better,” Cassandra muttered. She was not a fan of staying up till midnight to help Rapunzel wrap her last-minute Christmas gifts. Lance got to do the easy part, too. All he had to do was sign! Meanwhile Cassandra nearly broke her nail for that one gift. 

“Varian, you can play with that some more after the rest of your gifts! Come say thank you!” Eugene called. The child skidded to a stop, happily launching himself at Rapunzel for a hug. 

“Thank you Punzel! Love you!” He pressed a wet kiss to her cheek. It should’ve been gross, but to her, it was perfect.

Eugene smiled from his seat on the floor. It was pretty damn perfect to him too.

[lets-talk-appella]

i’m nobody’s but yours

Chapter 18/25 - Beca

Summary: Beca is straight as an arrow. 100%, totally, completely straight. Except for one problem that 100%, totally, completely changes everything: Chloe Beale.

Title borrowed from Calum Scott’s “If Our Love Is Wrong.”

Word Count: 11k

Rating: M (for dark themes, homophobia, masturbation, and eventual smut in later chapters)

Chapter is NSFW.

AO3, FFN, and below.

The second Beca steps into the hotel room Chloe had booked them, she can tell Chloe spared no expense. The room is massive, with plenty of cupboards for storage (not that they have any luggage), an enormous TV, a pristine bathroom, a huge window providing a stunning view of the city, and one massive king-sized bed in the middle of it all.

She tries not to focus too heavily on there being only one bed.

She fails.

“I’ll make my dad pay you back,” Beca says over her shoulder as Chloe enters the room behind her. She doesn’t even want to think about how much the room probably cost, though she imagines Chloe chose it because they deserve some kind of luxury after the hell they’d just been through.

“It’s really not a problem,” Chloe shrugs, closing the door and flipping the lock.

“It’s the least he can do, since he didn’t do anything else.”

“Beca…”

Beca kicks off her shoes angrily and throws herself down on the bed, landing on top of the thick white comforter and bouncing a little on the mattress. “I’m so, so sorry that happened, Chlo,” she groans, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes to keep from crying again. “It was – and Sheila saying – god, I don’t even want to say it.”

This whore has corrupted your daughter.

Lies. Just stupid, hateful lies that should not have seen the light of day and most certainly should never have been directed at the effervescent Chloe Beale.

From across the room, Chloe sighs, sounding more tired than Beca has ever heard her. “No, it was my fault. I thought we could go and it would be okay, and then after the kitchen… we should have left then.”

“Did she say that shit to you then, too?” Beca asks, propping herself up on her elbows. Anger simmers low in her gut; she thought she’d heard the worst of the interaction between Sheila and Chloe in the kitchen.

Chloe shrugs uncomfortably, not quite meeting Beca’s eyes. “Some stuff, but not…”

“Not calling you a –”

“Don’t!”

Beca flinches at the sudden venom in Chloe’s voice. “I didn’t – I’m –”

“No, I didn’t mean –” Chloe cuts herself off with a groan of frustration and hides her face in her hands. Beca watches her shoulders move as she takes a deep breath. After a moment, Chloe looks back up at her. “Sorry,” she huffs. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. It’s just – talking about it is just gonna make us angry again.”

Beca lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Yeah, you’re right. Come here.”

Shoulders relaxing, Chloe reaches down and slides off her shoes. She climbs onto the massive bed next to Beca, sidling close to nuzzle her face into Beca’s neck. She exhales, the puff of air tickling Beca’s skin. An arm weaves over Beca’s waist to secure them against each other, and Beca winds her right arm around Chloe to hold her closer.

Beca should be able to relax. She should be comfortable, Chloe’s steadying presence keeping her grounded. Getting away from the house had helped a lot, but still, her mind churns so loudly she’s surprised Chloe can’t hear it. Her thoughts batter against the walls of her skull, increasing in volume and urgency until she feels her head will explode with the pressure if she doesn’t release some of it.

“Can I just – my dad? What the fuck was that?” she blurts, her anger boiling over.

Chloe sighs, lifting her head to look at Beca properly. Her hesitant expression almost makes Beca regret bringing it all up again when they’d pretty much agreed not to, but then Chloe grimaces.

“He was trying, Bec.”

“That was trying?” Beca asks, incredulous.

“Yes, Beca,” Chloe insists, nodding to emphasize her point. “He invited us there. He asked about our plans. He tried to stop her a few times.”

“He didn’t do enough to help.”

“He’s in a bad spot, Bec.”

“I’m his daughter!”

“And she’s his wife.”

Beca stops short, struggling to argue against that. Chloe’s right, but still. If her mom had still been around, she’d have stood up for them. Hell, if her mom was still alive, Beca wouldn’t have even bothered with Warren and Sheila.

Her mom would have loved Chloe. Beca’s sure of it.

“Yeah, well – he should have tried harder!” she says, looking at the opposite wall stubbornly.

“I know, Beca, I’m not saying what he did was right, but… don’t cut him out of your life, okay?” The careful, almost pleading note in Chloe’s voice draws Beca’s eyes back to hers. “Sheila, sure, she’s – horrible – but your dad… I know it might not always seem like it, but he really does care about you. And, well,” she shrugs, “he’s from a generation that doesn’t really understand us, or this. It’s not an excuse, but…”

To Beca’s horror, an unexpected lump forms in her throat and her eyes prickle. It’s not fair that after almost four years of trying to repair her relationship with her dad, this should come between them. She’s tired of fighting. She’d never admit it out loud, but at the end of the day, she does still want a dad.

“I hear what you’re saying,” she mutters reluctantly, flopping her head back down against the mattress. “I’ll think about it.”

“Okay,” Chloe breathes, settling back down against Beca, her hand smoothing over Beca’s stomach.

Beca squeezes her eyes closed, forcing herself to calm down and regain control of her emotions; she doesn’t want to cry any more tonight. Chloe shifts against her, pressing somehow even closer. Beca frowns at the ceiling, remembering every hateful word Sheila had thrown into Chloe’s face.

“Are you okay with… everything?” Beca asks, wrapping her arm more tightly around Chloe’s back.

“Yeah,” Chloe answers a little too quickly, and seems to realize it. “I mean… yeah.”

“Chloe?” Beca sits up a little to look at her properly. Chloe never lies.

Chloe shuts her eyes, her eyebrows drawing together. “Listen, can we just… I’m sorry, can we please talk about this later? We will talk, but not now, okay?”

“Uh, okay. For sure.”

Beca relaxes into the bed, thrown by Chloe’s uncharacteristic refusal to talk, but not wanting to push Chloe into it. She runs her tongue over the front of her teeth, feeling awkward, but not sure what to say to make things better.

Before the silence stretches on for too long, though, Chloe snorts.

“What?” Beca asks, already smiling reflexively.

“Yeah, the food wasn’t great, you were right.”

Beca lets out a bark of laughter. “I can’t believe you kept complimenting her on it!”

“Well, I was trying!” Chloe pokes her in the side playfully.

“Laying it on a little thick, don’t you think?”

“Oh, whatever!”

Chloe dissolves into a bout of laughter that, due to their positioning, shakes Beca along with her. It makes Beca laugh too, and she wraps both arms around Chloe to pull her impossibly closer. Chloe smiles up at her, her eyes dropping, and it’s the most natural thing in the world for Beca to tilt her head until Chloe can press a soft kiss to her lips.

After the kiss, Chloe pulls back with a hum of satisfaction, her eyes smiling into Beca’s. From somewhere among their pile of limbs, a phone buzzes. Chloe sighs, pecks Beca’s lips again, and reaches to pull her phone from a pocket. As soon as she sees the screen, her eyes go wide.

“Oh! Oops, I forgot.”

“Forgot what?”

“Um, can I borrow your phone?”

“Uh, sure,” Beca agrees automatically, reaching into her own pocket to extract her phone and hand it to Chloe. “Yours dying?”

“Um. Nooooo,” Chloe draws out slowly, doing an excellent impression of Amy.

“Then why…?”

Chloe winces, looking sheepish, and Beca gets a funny feeling. Her mind flashes to her dad standing behind Chloe, whispering something to her frantically just before they left the house.

“Did my dad ask you to call?” she asks, trying to avoid sounding too suspicious.

Chloe wrinkles her nose guiltily. Beca refrains from rolling her eyes, but by the way Chloe’s arm over her waist tightens, she realizes she must not have hidden all of her annoyance.

“He just wants to know we’re safe,” Chloe says softly.

Beca sighs, but she’s not annoyed with Chloe.

“You can borrow it, yeah,” she says, gesturing at her phone in Chloe’s hand. “Tell him to pay you back for the hotel.”

Chloe smiles, but doesn’t say anything. Beca glowers; Chloe isn’t going to ask Warren to pay her back, and they both know it.

“Might as well add his number to your phone while you’re at it,” Beca grunts, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the way Chloe smiles at that. “And my passcode is 552012.”

Chloe frowns, her face screwed up in thought. “Is that…”

Beca pinches the bridge of her nose and closes her eyes so she doesn’t have to see the look Chloe’s almost definitely going to give her. “It’s the Nationals win my freshman year,” she mumbles. “Don’t make it weird.”

Chloe doesn’t say anything, but Beca can feel her eyes on her, no doubt full of utter delight. She waits, but still she knows it won’t stop until she looks, so, she takes a breath and cracks open one eye to see Chloe positively beaming at her.

“You’re such a softie,” Chloe coos, and Beca groans dramatically.

“I said don’t make it weird! You’re making it weird!”

Chloe reigns in her smile slightly and leans over to kiss between Beca’s eyebrows.

“I love you, you know,” she says in a matter-of-fact voice as she pulls away.

Even though Beca’s heard Chloe say the words before, they still make something clench behind her ribcage.

“I do know,” she says happily. “Now go do your thing with the phone, I’ll chill here.”

“Awes,” Chloe grins, unwrapping herself from Beca and rising from the bed. She grabs her room key card and gets all the way to the door before Beca calls her name.

“Yeah?” she asks, turning with one hand resting on the door handle.

“I love you, too,” Beca says.

The smile that breaks over Chloe’s face is like the sun over the morning horizon, warming Beca from head to toe. Mirroring Chloe’s smile, Beca gestures toward the door, half-shooing Chloe from the room. Without another word (but a widening smile), Chloe steps out, letting the door click shut behind her.

Once she’s gone, Beca hauls herself up from the bed and moves to the large window. She looks out over the city, where lights flare to life gradually now that the sun has set. It should be a peaceful view, but she’s at war with herself. Here, in the lonely quiet of the room, Sheila’s words threaten to envelop her once again, spewing forth unfounded and hateful comments about the person Beca loves most. Resisting, Beca forces herself to think about Chloe: her soothing presence, her warm smiles, how well their lips and bodies fit together.

Beca yanks the curtains closed, making the room feel even more secluded, and moves back to the bed. She settles back against the pillows at the headboard, noticing absentmindedly that there’s a light switch embedded in the wood frame.

Chloe is everything Beca didn’t know she needed. Her kindness, her compassion, and her never-ending enthusiasm for life astound Beca and keep her from falling back into her closed-off and self-protective default. The idea that someone so breathtakingly beautiful, both inside and out, could possibly love her back is still mind-blowing, despite the amount of time she spends thinking about it and how often Chloe tells her she loves her.

Maybe Beca should be scared of how hard she’s fallen in just a short amount of time. The old Beca, freshman Beca, would be scared. She’d run, leave everything behind, and hide the best part of herself to meet others’ expectations.

And yet.

Now, Beca isn’t scared. She knows how she feels about Chloe, and, by some miracle, Chloe feels the same way about her. The world around them is changing and evolving, transforming into a more accepting one every single day. There are still people in it who would hate them for no other reason than that they found happiness with each other, but here, in the safety of their hotel room, those outside forces fade away. With Chloe by her side, Beca would face any of those people.

Loving Chloe is easy. Easier, maybe, than it should be. Easier than she ever thought it could be, given how wrong it had once seemed.

It’s not wrong. Beca knows that now. There is nothing wrong with her loving Chloe, and Chloe loving her.

Besides.

She’s been loving Chloe for years. She just hadn’t let herself realize it.

Chloe’s eyes, Chloe’s smile, Chloe’s laugh, Chloe’s lips, Chloe’s toned arms, the way Chloe’s legs look in slim jeans, the way Chloe’s breasts feel in her hands, the way Chloe’s body presses against hers, all soft curves and strong muscles, how they fit together perfectly, moving in rhythmic tandem.

Warmth creeps up Beca’s neck and she shifts her legs restlessly against the mattress. She’s turned on – she can feel it – and she’s about to spend the night with Chloe in this king-size bed. There’s no one there to interrupt them, so unless something unexpected happens like the hotel fire alarm going off or someone knocking on their door, they have the night to themselves.

The click of the door lock startles her, and she looks over to see Chloe pushing the door open, Beca’s phone in hand.

“Hey,” Chloe greets her. “Your dad says thanks for the call.”

“Right,” Beca nods, a little flustered. “Uh, did you ask him about –”

“He offered to pay for the hotel before I even mentioned it.”

“Good. He should.”

The mention of her father brings back Beca’s dark mood, creeping from the corners of her mind to return to center stage. Chloe seems to sense it, eyeing Beca carefully. She sets Beca’s phone down by the TV, then climbs onto the bed to join her against the pillows at the headboard.

Chloe reaches out, grabbing Beca’s right hand and pulling it into her lap, both hands surrounding it. Fingers trace over the back of Beca’s hand, relaxing her and grounding her to the present. Beca leans into the touch, trying to focus on that rather than on her dad and his wife.

“Did I ever tell you how I got the scar on my forehead?” Chloe asks after a moment.

Beca glances over at her, surprised. Her eyes flick up, finding the barely-there scar high between Chloe’s eyes.

“I forget about it, actually,” she says honestly. “And no, you haven’t.”

Chloe nods, settling back further into the pillows. “Yeah, so, I got it when I was… seven? Maybe eight? And it was this really, super, extra windy day at our house. And, um, we had a pretty large yard, so the wind would just whip across it, and I remember it was shaking the house, rattling the windows, everything.”

“That’s crazy, holy shit,” Beca says, drawn in by the animated way Chloe tells the story, her eyes wide and hands gesturing. She finds herself relaxing, settling further back against the pillows.

“Yeah,” Chloe says, “and, you know, even though it was the middle of the day, I was little, so I was kinda scared by it.”

“Right.”

“So, my dad comes in my room, all excited, and tells me to grab a bed sheet and come outside.”

“A bed sheet?” Beca asks. She can picture it; a tiny Chloe Beale with bright eyes and wild hair, maybe even some baby teeth still in her smile, walking around with a massive bed sheet trailing behind her on the floor.

“Yeah, just like a – you know, a regular bed sheet,” Chloe continues. “So I grab a bed sheet and meet my dad, and my brother, Chris, outside. And Chris has his own bedsheet, right? And it’s still just… insanely, scary windy outside. Like, leaves are flying off the trees, birds are falling through the air. It’s crazy,” Chloe emphasizes, waving her arms in front of her as if imagining the wind whipping by.

“Uh huh,” Beca says, trying to hide her smile. She’s sure Chloe’s exaggerating at least a little, but she’s not about to interrupt.

“Then, my dad said he was going to show us something. He took the sheets and tied the corners to our wrists and ankles.”

“Wait, what?”

“So, um, you tie the top two corners of the sheet around your wrists and the bottom two around your ankles so there’s – so you’re like a kite, right?”

“Oh yeah, okay,” Beca nods, now imagining the younger version of Chloe with a white, billowing sheet behind her, bouncing in place with excitement.

“And so,” Chloe continues, “my dad ties a sheet to himself, and he helps Chris and me, and there we are, all tied in sheets. And then, we step out into the yard.”

Beca gasps, suddenly understanding. “Oh my god! No way!”

“Yeah!” Chloe beams at her, but her eyes are unfocused, lost in the memory. “We go out to the yard, and right away, the wind catches the sheet like a – a parachute. And, ‘cuz I was small, it just… it lifted me up, and I’d fly back a few feet, and come back down to the ground. And so we did that, just jumping up in the yard, flying backward, and landing. Even just trying to walk against the wind was crazy hard.”

“That’s… that’s awesome, holy shit,” Beca breathes.

Chloe nods in agreement. “My mom still has the photos of us. She took them, waiting in the house.”

“I’ll be needing to see those.”

“Definitely,” Chloe smiles. “But yeah, so, we’d done this, jumping and flying back for a while, and I remember my legs were tired, but I didn’t want to stop because I was having too much fun.”

She pauses dramatically, and Beca waits, enthralled, even though she knows what’s coming next.

“And at one point,” Chloe continues, “I guess I just – I don’t know, I landed weird, and my legs gave out, and I totally fell, completely wiped out. My head hit the ground, and I smacked my forehead right on a rock, and it cut me, right here.” She raises a hand to touch the scar, tracing over it.

Beca winces in sympathy; that couldn’t have felt good, especially as a little kid.

“It bled for ages, oh my god. My mom thought we’d have to go to the hospital, and my brother was crying, and my dad was crying too because he felt so guilty for it… he still feels bad, I think, actually,” Chloe shrugs, half-smiling. “But eventually we got the bleeding to stop, and Mom patched me up with about a million band-aids. And you know what I did?”

“Hm?”

“I went right back out into that wind and kept playing.”

“Of course you did!” Beca laughs, falling more and more in love with the ridiculous person beside her.

“Yeah,” Chloe grins. “So that’s how I got my scar, and honestly, it’s probably my favorite memory of being a kid.”

“Yeah?”

Without really thinking about it, Beca raises a hand to trace her fingers lightly over the scar on Chloe’s face. Her fingertips can barely detect it, only a thin groove interrupting the otherwise smooth skin. Chloe’s eyes flutter at the touch, and Beca’s breath hitches in her throat. Her touch lingers over the scar for another moment, then follows along Chloe’s brow and down, over her cheekbone, until her hand gently cups Chloe’s jaw.

“What’s your favorite memory of college, then?” she asks, her voice coming out in a whisper.

To her surprise, Chloe blushes a little, turning her face into Beca’s hand to kiss just below her thumb. “That’s harder.”

“Why?”

Chloe’s eyes flick up to meet hers, filled with a raw honesty that makes Beca’s heart thunder in her chest.

“Because they all have to do with you,” Chloe whispers. “Any memory with you is my favorite.”

“Chlo…”

Beca leans in, Chloe mirroring her, until their foreheads rest together. Her hand slides around Chloe’s face and into her hair, the red locks silky between her fingers.

“Do you know my favorite memory?” she breathes.

“Hmm?”

“It’s the other night. When I told you I love you, and you said it back.”

Chloe’s breath catches audibly. “I always have, and I always will,” she whispers, and then they’re kissing.

Chloe’s lips slide against her own, soft and determined, and Beca responds instinctively, her body perfectly attuned to Chloe’s. She kisses Chloe in return, taking her time, holding back a little to keep it slow, but then Chloe pulls Beca’s lower lip between her own and traces the tip of her tongue over it. Beca hums in the back of her throat, tilting her head to better the angle, as Chloe parts her lips with her tongue to deepen the kiss.

Chloe’s hand appears, resting on Beca’s hip, not tugging or urging her closer, only holding her. The sensation grounds Beca, warming her from the inside out. Supporting herself with one hand planted on the mattress, Beca moves her other hand from the back of Chloe’s head, trailing her fingers from Chloe’s hair down the back of her neck, nails scraping lightly across it to pull shivers from somewhere deep within Chloe. Her touch travels further, dipping around and under the collar of Chloe’s shirt to seek soft skin. She traces along Chloe’s collarbone, remembering what the skin there had tasted like under salt and lime.

“Off?” Chloe whispers against her lips.

Beca’s fingers stutter in their movements; that hadn’t been her goal, not really, but…

“Off,” Beca agrees, a thrill of excitement tingling down her spine.

Beca can hear Chloe’s shaky inhale as she pulls away, her arms crossing as she reaches for the hem of her blouse. She lifts it up and off, revealing her toned stomach and a lacy blue bra that makes Beca swallow hard.

“You wore that to my dad’s house?” she manages.

The wink that Chloe sends her should be illegal. “I didn’t know what we were gonna do after,” she says. “Figured I should be prepared.”

Beca can only nod, her eyes tracing over Chloe’s perfect form. She desperately wants to touch her, but instead, she reaches down to pull her own shirt off. Before she can, though, Chloe’s hands land on hers and Beca pauses.

“Let me,” Chloe says, eyes hooded.

Beca nods and moves her hands away, allowing Chloe to pull up her shirt. It’s different, having someone undress her like this, slowly and sensually, until she feels she’s going crazy with desire. Chloe’s fingers brush against her stomach as she lifts the shirt, making Beca shiver and causing her skin to twitch, until Chloe lifts higher and the shirt reveals the red bra Beca had bought for such an occasion. Chloe’s eyes drop even as the shirt rises and starts to come up over Beca’s head, blocking her view of Chloe temporarily. She’s worried it’s going to get stuck on her ear or in her hair or something equally embarrassing, but Chloe is careful and precise and she’s soon she’s pulling Beca’s shirt completely off to cast it away.

“You wore that to your dad’s house?” Chloe teases, her eyes flicking back up to meet Beca’s.

“Preparedness,” Beca mumbles vaguely.

Chloe smiles, and then she’s pulling Beca forward and lying back until Beca hovers half over her, supporting herself with a hand on either side of Chloe’s shoulders. Chloe’s hands inch around to Beca’s back, tracing over the skin and drawing swirling patterns that drive Beca forward and down to capture Chloe’s lips in another deep, tongue-filled kiss.

Still, Chloe’s touch trails over her, smoothing over her lower back, up to her bra strap, and back down. Beca pushes closer, need pooling low in her stomach until she’s desperate for Chloe to really touch her. She waits until Chloe’s hands repeat their wandering circuit, nudging into her bra strap and tracing over it before she speaks.

At the touch, Beca pulls back only enough to ask, “Off?”

Chloe freezes under her at the question, her breath hitching audibly and hands ceasing in their movements.

“Please?” Beca whispers, nudging her nose against Chloe’s. “If you want.”

Chloe’s fingers twitch against her back, and for a second, Beca thinks she’s just going to unclasp the bra right there, but then Chloe’s nodding and moving her hands between them to push lightly at Beca’s shoulders, guiding her back up to sitting.

“Okay,” Chloe says, sitting up as well. “Yeah, off.”

Beca’s stomach flutters with nerves and anticipation as she reaches behind herself. She finds the clasp of her bra and unhooks it easily, the tension from it relaxing. Still watching Chloe, she slides the straps from her shoulders and pulls her arms out, until she has to hold it to herself to keep it from falling. She’s abruptly bashful and shy, not sure what Chloe’s going to do.

But Chloe’s eyes, rather than focused on her chest, are still locked with Beca’s own, looking at her like she always does, expression full of tender care. It calms Beca, and she pulls the bra away completely to reveal herself. Chloe’s eyes flick down, then back up to find Beca’s.

“Mine off?” she asks.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Beca’s quick to answer. “Just because I did, doesn’t mean…”

“I want to,” Chloe says, smiling gently. “Help me with it?”

Beca’s brain short-circuits at that, but she somehow manages to nod and move closer. She lifts her hands around to find Chloe’s bra strap, tracing along it until she feels the ridges of the clasp under her fingers. She’s never unhooked someone else’s bra before, and she fumbles with it a little, feeling kind of foolish.

Chloe leans forward, drawing her own arms back to guide Beca’s hands, wordlessly showing her fingers where to grasp and pull at the fabric, until Beca feels it come loose. She puffs in relief, pressing her lips to Chloe’s in a silent thank-you. Beca pulls back, guiding the garment down Chloe’s shoulders and off her arms to drop it beside the bed near her own.

She tries not to look right away; Chloe had kept eye contact with her for so long that Beca’s not sure if she should look or not, but her eyes keep dropping of their own accord.

Chloe chuckles gently, bringing Beca’s attention back up to her face.

“You can look, Bec. It’s okay.”

Beca swallows hard, her mouth suddenly dry. She gives up trying to control her eyes, letting them fall to Chloe’s bare chest. And it’s not like this is the first time she’s seen Chloe – the Shower Incident, for one, and just in living in the same house for three years, she’d caught glimpses – but it’s the first time she’s felt she’s been allowed to really look. Her eyes drink in the details, committing Chloe to memory. Chloe is absolutely perfect, beautiful and bare for her.

“You’re beautiful,” Chloe says, and Beca glances up in surprise. Chloe’s eyes are on her chest, and she looks just as blown away as Beca feels. The idea that Chloe sees her and wants her – thinks she’s beautiful – claws at something inside Beca, urging her on.

“Can I touch you?” she asks, her voice raspy.

Chloe’s eyes flutter and she twitches forward. She stops herself, though, and takes a deep breath that raises and expands her chest, and Beca’s eyes drop again, tracking every movement.

“Yes,” Chloe breathes, inching forward even though they’re already sitting close.

Beca’s hands feel warm and twitchy, fingertips over-sensitive as Beca reaches forward. She rests her hands on Chloe’s hips first, just above the top of her jeans. She moves her hands higher slowly, tracing up over the lines of Chloe’s abs, feeling the dip and rise in her obliques. She follows the lines, rising up to brush over Chloe’s rib cage, mapping out the ridge of each one of Chloe’s ribs. Chloe’s breathing faster now, her eyes sliding closed and own hands twitching against the crisp white comforter.

The sight makes Beca lose her nerve for a second, tracing around the outsides of Chloe’s breasts, the barest hint of the curves sending heat rocketing through her body, until her touch again runs along Chloe’s collarbones. Chloe’s straining now, the tension in her neck obvious. So, with a deep breath, Beca gives them what they both want and slides her hands down.

Chloe sighs noisily, arching forward, but Beca barely notices. She’s too enraptured by the feel of Chloe’s bare breasts in her hands, their soft, warm weight as she cups and holds them. A crease forms between Chloe’s brows and she bites her lip; with one final glance at her face, Beca gently runs her thumbs over the peaks.

Chloe gasps sharply and pushes forward, urging more of herself into Beca’s hands. Beca freezes, stunned by the reaction.

“I – is that –”

“It’s good,” Chloe gasps, her eyes struggling open. “It felt good.”

Beca puffs out a shaky breath, relieved she hadn’t done anything wrong. She carefully repeats the motion with her thumbs, utterly astounded by the way the skin pebbles and responds to her touch. Her touches bolden, until she’s circling with her fingertips, kneading and exploring, attune to every twist in Chloe’s spine, every twitch of her face, every sound that escapes from between her lips. Chloe squirms where she sits, her fingers tapping against the bed.

Noticing this, Beca pauses again. “You okay?”

Chloe nods, then says, “Yeah, it’s – can I touch you, too?”

“Oh!” Beca feels her eyebrows shoot up. She’d been so focused on Chloe that she’d forgotten – actually, honestly forgotten – that she’s just as bare as Chloe is. “Yeah, of course.”

Reluctantly pulling her hands away from Chloe to let them wait at her sides, Beca offers herself to Chloe’s hands. Chloe’s eyes flick between her face and her chest, as if checking with her again, before they land on her chest and stay there. Chloe reaches forward, less cautious than Beca was, to trace around her ribs and leave feathery touches along Beca’s skin. She’s still slow in her movements, almost reverent in the way hands lightly caress Beca around her breasts, tracing along her ribs, her stomach, and below her collarbones, until impatience sparks in Beca’s stomach and she can’t stop herself from arching forward.

Chloe looks up at her then, a mischievous smile toying around her lips; a second later, hands cup and hold, and Beca jerks as the touch races through her, shaking her to her core. She makes a noise that might be a squeak or a gasp, or something in between, and Chloe’s grin widens. Fingertips brush over her peaks and this time, Beca really does gasp, the touch like lightning against her. Chloe presses and circles and explores much the same way Beca had, repeatedly flicking over the peaks until Beca’s the one squirming now. Then, Chloe palms her and squeezes lightly and Beca’s surging forward until she’s hovering above Chloe again, straddling her hips.

Without really thinking about it, Beca bats Chloe’s hands aside and drops her mouth to straining skin. Below her, Chloe swears in surprise and arches up, her hands twisting into Beca’s hair to hold her in place. Beca runs her tongue repeatedly over the peak of Chloe’s right breast, drinking in the sounds every pass draws from Chloe. She closes her lips around the peak and sucks, pulling a groan from deep within her girlfriend. The fingers in her hair turn insistent; Beca pulls back, releasing Chloe’s breast, and Chloe collapses back to the mattress as if Beca’s mouth had been acting as a magnet, holding her suspended.

Beca licks her lips and descends to the other side; it happens again, Chloe’s back lifting off the bed to arch into her mouth. Beca shifts her weight, her left hand moving to nudge at and circle around Chloe’s unoccupied breast, left pebbled and wet by her tongue. Whines and whimpers fall freely from Chloe’s lips, and Beca treasures every one, learning which pushes and patterns from her tongue and fingers elicit which noises.

She had no idea it could feel like this, had no idea how addicting it is to pleasure someone this way. The way Chloe arches into her and pants her name is remarkable, and Beca wants this, wants more, so much that it takes her by surprise. Doing this with Chloe is new, and exciting, and already so much more than she knew it could be.

Beca releases Chloe’s breast, satisfied by the way Chloe falls back to the mattress. Realizing it’s been too long since she’s actually gotten to kiss her girlfriend, Beca moves up to reunite their lips, Chloe’s hands disappearing from her hair to instead find purchase on her shoulders. Chloe’s touch runs up and down the length of her spine, uninhibited, and a knot forms low in Beca’s gut. She knows what it is, knows what it means, but because this is Chloe turning her on, everything is amplified.

She growls, moving now to Chloe’s neck, suddenly feeling the need to mark and claim her. Chloe keens when Beca sucks on her pulse point, creating a new bruise to replace the one that had recently faded. She releases the spot, drops and inch lower, and does it again, Chloe’s hands starting to stutter and twitch on her back as she gasps brokenly for air.

“I – shit, Bec –”

Beca feels it, the instant Chloe’s hips lift up into hers. The sudden friction makes Beca groan into Chloe’s neck and she grinds down reflexively. Chloe’s hands seize at her back, tugging her down closer as Chloe’s hips buck up yet again.

***************

She remembers what it was like, the first time she’d seen Chloe at the Activities Fair.

The moment the sunlight caught the redhead’s beautiful hair and stunning eyes, something had fluttered in her stomach. She remembers the way Chloe’s mouth had formed every word; remembers the way her eyes had begged Beca to “help turn their dreams into reality.” She remembers the way it had made her feel, warm and hopeful and longing in ways she knew were inappropriate. It had been so much harder than it should have been to walk away from a complete stranger and her rude blonde friend.

It had been even harder not to glance down when, weeks later, Chloe had burst into her shower. She doesn’t like to think about why she’d wanted to look down, doesn’t like to think about the little thrill she’d gotten when Chloe had looked at her. Mostly, she doesn’t like to think about the jealousy she felt when the guy Chloe had been with walked in.

It had been the same when Chloe had pulled her close during Hood Night, so close their lips almost touched.

She doesn’t like thinking about how disappointed she’d been that they hadn’t kissed then.

And every day since, every single look, smile, touch shared between them that had made her insides twist and squirm and her heart stutter in her chest, she’d refused to acknowledge because they were just friends.

Chloe is her friend, and to feel anything more is unfair to her.

They could only ever just be friends, because there’s no other option.

***************

And this feeling – the sensation of being desired so desperately, and of desiring – is new, too. It steals Beca’s breath from her lungs and wipes everything else from her mind, until all she can see and hear and feel is Chloe under her.

She wants more.

She adjusts, sliding one thigh high between Chloe’s, pressing, grinding forward and down as she kisses Chloe’s neck, cheeks, lips, wherever she can find. All she knows is she needs Chloe under her, under her body, under her lips, under her touch.

“Beca, I – Bec, shit, I –”

Chloe’s hands land on Beca’s hips, fingers digging into the material. The next time Beca grinds forward, Chloe bucks up, and her hands pull at Beca, bringing her pelvis down and squarely into her own.

Beca’s eyes flutter and she stills above Chloe, trying to regain some semblance of control. She has to moisten her lips before she can ask the question hovering in the stilled air around them.

“Chlo, can… god, can we…”

“Do you – are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Beca breathes. She’s never been more sure of anything in her life.

Chloe’s eyes slam closed and her entire body rolls under Beca, silently begging for Beca to touch her.

“Yes,” Chloe chokes out. “Yes.”

And Beca sits up abruptly and she moves herself off Chloe, nervous and excited and scared and honored that this is going to happen, that this is Chloe in front of her. The fact that it is Chloe calms her, reminds her that there’s nothing to be scared of, because it’s Chloe, best friend Chloe, girlfriend Chloe.

“Um, wait –” Beca glances over at the headboard, finding the switch she’s seen earlier. Sure enough, when she flicks it, soft lights emit from the top of the headboard, illuminating the wall and ceiling above the bed.

“Oh,” Chloe says quietly, looking up.

Beca smiles and hurries over to the switch by the door, flicking the main lights in the room off so that the room is delicately lit only by the lights from above the bed. As she does that, Chloe shoves the comforter down the bed to pool at its foot, exposing crisp white sheets. She lies back on against the pillows, and Beca moves to rejoin her. She’s a little worried that the moment had died, but then Chloe immediately pulls her down into a searing kiss and her worries disappear.

After another few moments of kissing, Beca pulls away and sits up. She meets Chloe’s eyes again to make sure they’re still on the same page. Chloe, still lying on her back, nods yes.

Beca’s stomach flips. This is happening. This is really happening.

Her hands tremble with nerves and excitement as they move to Chloe’s jeans, smoothing over the waistband until she reaches the button and pops it out. Chloe’s hips twitch, urging Beca to continue. Still trembling, she finds the zipper and eases it down slowly, revealing blue lace that matches the bra Chloe’s wearing.

She exhales in a hot puff, trying to get her nerves to disappear. She glances up and is stunned to see Chloe’s hand wound into her own hair, expression desperate and almost pained. It tells Beca all she needs to know.

Gripping the jeans, Beca starts to work them down. Chloe has to lift her hips to help, and then Beca’s pulling the pants down over toned thighs, over perfect calves, and off Chloe’s feet, taking her socks with them.

Now Chloe sits up, finding the waistband of Beca’s jeans. Beca’s stomach flips again when Chloe works the button free, and when lithe fingers slide the zipper down, a concentrated bolt of heat hits her center so hard it makes her feel lightheaded. She has to stand from the bed on trembling legs to work the jeans the rest of the way off, taking off her socks as well.

Maybe she should feel self-conscious, undressing in front of someone, but she doesn’t. This is Chloe, and that makes it okay. They way Chloe’s looking at her, her expression full of awe, tells her that she has nothing to be afraid of. So, Beca reaches and slides off her red underwear, too, seeing Chloe’s throat bob up and down.

Beca has never felt more comfortable in another’s presence as she does in this moment, standing naked before Chloe.

“You’re amazing,” Chloe breathes, and the words pull at Beca like a magnet until she’s reaching slowly for Chloe’s panties.

Chloe lifts her hips instantly, not even waiting for Beca’s hands to land on the garment before she’s silently begging her to take it off. A dark patch has formed on the fabric between Chloe’s legs, which is… tantalizing. Flattering. Mind-boggling.

Arousing.

Beca eases the panties down, gasping when Chloe is revealed. She almost wants to stop, to just stare at Chloe all day, but an impatient whine from Chloe has her moving again, sliding the underwear off completely and tossing it to the floor.

She indulges herself just a moment more and simply looks at Chloe, laid before her on the bed against pristine white sheets. Her hair creates a vibrant halo against the pillows, and the bed lighting casts a warm glow over her, somehow making the moment even more delicate. Chloe could have anyone on the planet, but chose her; knowing that sears Beca’s insides and turns her brain to mush.

“Sometime today, Bec,” Chloe smiles, teasing gently.

Beca rolls her eyes and leans forward, lying on her side next to Chloe so they can face each other.

“You’re perfect,” she says, “can you blame me for taking my time?”

Chloe’s pupils are already blown, heavy and dark, but she looks at Beca with so much love that it tangles something in her chest. If the stars could align, they would above their hotel room. Everything in Beca’s life has led to this moment.

Chloe reaches for her, resting her hand on Beca’s bare hip. Chloe’s fingers tremble against her, and it’s strangely reassuring that Chloe’s feeling just as much as she is.

“We’ll talk it through, yeah?” Chloe says softly.

“Yeah,” Beca breathes, nerves fluttering in her stomach.

“Okay,” Chloe says, her fingers flexing against Beca’s hip. “Okay. Just… relax.”

Beca exhales shakily, Chloe leans in, and then they’re kissing again. This time, Beca lets herself be guided to her back, Chloe half on top of her. Beca rests her hands on Chloe’s back, fingertips following the curve of her spine. It’s different this way, their bare skin touching and sliding against each other’s, Beca’s burning wherever Chloe’s touches. Chloe’s breasts push against her own, their combined sensitivity ratcheting Beca’s body up another hundred notches.

Chloe shifts, her lips dropping to Beca’s neck, immediately pulling the skin into her hot mouth to suck and nip at it. Beca groans, her body rolling in response to the knowledge that Chloe’s possessing her, claiming her as her own for the whole world to see, judgment be damned. She belongs to Chloe, and only Chloe.

Chloe’s mouth maps a burning, bruising path down her chest, until she has to shift again. With a quick look into Beca’s eyes, Chloe swings a leg over her hips and settles down, straddling her.

It tears a moan from deep within Beca’s chest and her hips lift, seeking friction. It makes Chloe’s eyes flutter and brow furrow, but a second later she’s moving, leaning down, and she takes one of Beca’s breasts into her mouth.

“Shit, that’s –” Beca gasps, gritting her teeth against the pleasure of Chloe’s hot tongue circling and bathing her. She arches up, tangling her fingers in red hair to encourage Chloe. She’s going agonizingly slow, taking her time first with one breast, then the other, until Beca’s left gasping for air.

Above her, Chloe shifts again, this time to straddle one of Beca’s thighs. Before Beca really registers what’s about to happen, Chloe rocks forward, pressing up into Beca. Fireworks explode behind Beca’s eyes and she moans, shocked at how good Chloe feels against her. She pushes down to meet Chloe’s rocking thigh, her hips rising automatically.

With the positioning, she can feel Chloe against her own thigh, hot and swollen. She bends her knee, giving Chloe something to bear down on and making her shudder and gasp. Chloe drops to a forearm, putting more of her weight onto Beca.

Beca’s whining now; she can hear the moans spilling from her own throat, but she doesn’t care. “Please, Chlo, just –”

Until Chloe’s hand appears on her side, wrapping around her ribs then trailing down between them over her stomach. Beca sinks into the mattress, unable to do anything but wait for Chloe’s touch. Fingertips circle around her navel, moving lower until they pause low on her abdomen, tracing over the invisible line where her panties would normally cover.

“Are you sure?” Chloe asks again, her voice raspy.

“Completely,” Beca says, tilting her hips and lifting her chin to ensnare Chloe’s lips in one more kiss.

Chloe hums against her lips, a sound that promises Beca everything. Her fingers trail lower, dipping down until they glide between Beca’s legs.

Their kiss breaks as they both gasp and Beca’s head falls back into the pillow at the same time her hips lift against Chloe’s hand. Chloe’s touch is light, gentle and careful, but still enough to make Beca’s eyes slam shut and legs shift further apart.

“Wow…” Chloe breathes, and Beca isn’t sure if she even meant to say anything out loud, but Beca still nods in response. She doesn’t need to be told how wet she is, how ready and warm she probably feels, because she knows, especially with how slowly Chloe worked her up. Beca didn’t know it could be like this, didn’t know what it would feel like to want someone so much.

Chloe’s fingers slip over her, dragging through everything that has been begging for attention – for Chloe’s attention – for what feels like an eon. Chloe’s fingers search, finding the bud that has Beca’s eyes rolling back and mouth falling open in surprise.

“You feel amazing,” Chloe whispers, pressing soft kisses to her lips and cheeks.

“God – so do you,” Beca manages, breaking off into a moan when Chloe’s fingers start to move against her.

Gradually, Chloe’s fingers circle and stroke more firmly, almost finding rhythm but not quite, and the way Chloe smiles tells Beca she knows exactly what she’s doing. The touch drifts lower, until a finger lightly circles around her entrance.

Beca inhales sharply, clutching at Chloe’s back, trying to spread her legs as best she can with Chloe on top of one of them. Chloe’s eyes meet hers, the question in them, and Beca wants to both scream and laugh at how careful Chloe’s being, at how delicate, because she’s never experienced anything like it before.

Beca can only nod, taking one hand form Chloe’s back to find her arm, following it down to the hand between her own legs. She covers Chloe’s hand with her own, guiding and showing her, then, carefully presses until Chloe moves in with no resistance.

Even having guided Chloe, knowing what was about to happen, Beca isn’t quite prepared for the sensation. Her own hand flies back to its place on Chloe’s back, needing an anchor as she arches up. Even though Chloe is inside her, she’s still not close enough.

“Okay?” Chloe whispers, not moving, just holding inside.

Beca bites her lip and nods, beyond words. Because it’s way better than okay; she’s not felt anything like it. Holding Chloe inside her isn’t the slightest bit uncomfortable; rather, it’s much better than it was being achingly empty.

Chloe presses a kiss to her temple then starts moving, pulling out and pressing in gingerly, rubbing at Beca’s walls in all the right places. They’ve never done this before, but Chloe already knows what to do, knows how to listen to Beca’s gasps and whimpers in order to respond and play her body like an instrument.

“Keep talking to me,” Chloe says, nudging their noses together.

She pulls out to rub circles against Beca again, then slides in with a second finger that Beca feels herself stretching around. From within, there’s a fluttering, as if Chloe’s wiggling her fingers, and Beca’s hips tilt up and she cries out at the feeling of being filled by Chloe.

Chloe echoes her, whimpering and speeding up her thrusts, pressing the palm of her hand into Beca with every thrust in. She shifts again, and Beca glances down in time to see Chloe’s thigh moving against the back of her hand before Chloe drives forward, with enough force to raise Beca’s back off the mattress.

“Harder,” Beca groans, feeling herself tightening, and Chloe whimpers above her, thrusting with more fervor.

Her hands turn to claws at Chloe’s back, and she knows she’s scratching her, but Chloe just hisses in her ear and presses closer, pushes impossibly faster, until Beca can feel how close she is. She pants a warning into Chloe ear and Chloe nods, pressing deep and holding to grind circles against Beca with the palm of her hand.

Just like that, Beca’s teetering on the edge, rigid and arched, suspended in time.

Then, Chloe breathes, “I love you,” and drops her mouth again to Beca’s neck, and Beca’s falling, collapsing in on herself, her hips jerking against Chloe as she cries out broken variations of her name mingled with swear words. Chloe holds within, gently moving inside Beca to prolong it as long as possible, until, with a final shudder, Beca sags against the mattress.

She lies there, more than a little surprised by it. She hadn’t been expecting to finish, not really. She had no idea an orgasm from someone else could feel like that, or that it was even possible for her to come undone from someone else’s touch. The realization that she can, that she’s not broken beyond repair, is shocking and pleasing and so overwhelming that she has to blink hard, because she is not going to be that person who cries after sex.

After a second, Chloe eases away, pulling out carefully. Beca’s thighs clench together at the loss, and she laughs once, a shaky sound of disbelief as Chloe rolls off of her completely. She misses Chloe instantly, misses the sensation of Chloe above her, and angles her body toward Chloe even as Chloe sprawls next to her.

“Was that okay?” Chloe asks, her eyes wide.

Beca blinks back, shaken by the realization that Chloe is actually asking, she’s not being arrogant or sarcastic, but she genuinely needs Beca to tell her what she felt.

“That was –” Beca has to stop to clear her throat before she can continue. “That was awesome. Like, really, I don’t – you were – that was so good,” she says, her mind scrambled and body still tingling.

It doesn’t help at all when Chloe beams at her and raises a still-glistening hand to her lips. Beca stares, transfixed, as Chloe pulls her fingers into her mouth, licking them clean.

A groan tears itself from Beca’s throat and something snaps deep within her; she feels she’s going to die if she doesn't touch Chloe immediately. As soon as Chloe’s fingers are out of her mouth, Beca lunges forward to kiss her, hard, her squeak of surprise encouraging Beca on until she’s rolled Chloe to her back and hovers over her on her hands and knees.

“Your turn,” she smiles before she leans down, brushing their noses together, teasing before finally tilting her head for a kiss. Chloe meets her, strong and steady, and Beca wastes no time sliding her tongue between Chloe’s parted lips.

Chloe’s hands trace down her back, dropping occasionally to squeeze and knead her backside with increasing urgency. Beca gets the hint and moves her mouth to Chloe’s neck, feeling the vibrations of Chloe’s groans under her lips. Beca’s becoming impatient, and, judging by the way Chloe pants and strains up into her, so is she.

Beca works her way down Chloe’s chest, again kissing, licking, and sucking at Chloe’s breasts. Chloe writhes under her, and Beca can’t stop smiling against Chloe’s skin; she sees why Chloe had drawn it out so long. She brings a hand between them, running her fingertips over Chloe, trailing over her stomach. She brushes over what must be a sensitive spot on Chloe’s side, and Chloe jerks against her with a whine.

“God, Beca, just – get on with it,” Chloe groans, her hips rising into Beca’s stomach.

“So impatient,” Beca mutters. She’s tempted to wait, to tease, to draw it out, but she never could deny Chloe anything.

Adjusting her weight, Beca mimics what Chloe had done earlier. She straddles one of Chloe’s legs, using her knee to nudge Chloe’s legs apart. Not that she really has to try; Chloe opens for her instantly, and Beca stares in awe. It takes every ounce of her willpower not to reach and touch Chloe right then, but she wants to build it up as long as she can first to make sure Chloe is comfortable.

She fits her thigh against Chloe, a shiver rolling up her spine when she feels wet heat against her leg. Chloe whimpers, squirming against Beca’s thigh and tilting her hips against it before Beca’s even fully settled back over her. As soon as Beca is in place, the leg she’s straddling bends and lifts to fit against her, making her body twitch and roll despite her previous relief.

Beca stills above Chloe, mesmerized by the way she throws her head back as she grinds down against Beca’s leg. Chloe’s hands are at her hips, flexing and clutching at her. After several seconds, it occurs to Beca that she should be doing something; she gives an experimental press and roll of her hips, and Chloe’s mouth drops open in a silent gasp.

Wow.

Beca drops to her right forearm, freeing her left hand to slide down Chloe’s body even as she continues rocking into her. She feels the strain in her core already, but she’s not stopping this for anything. She slides her hand down around Chloe’s hip, resting it high on her thigh. Chloe twists toward the touch, trying to move Beca’s hand a few inches to the right.

Beca makes eye contact, pausing, but before she can even ask, Chloe nods frantically, her hands like talons on Beca’s back.

“Let me know if it feels good,” Beca murmurs, pressing a kiss to the hollow at Chloe’s throat.

Chloe’s only response is a soft whimper; she spreads her legs even further, and Beca moves her hand. Both their jaws drop at the first touch, the sensation of Chloe at her fingertips racing through her interconnected nerves and through her spine to ignite her entire body.

It’s like nothing Beca has ever experienced. It’s so, so different from touching herself; Chloe feels perfect under her touch, all soft, wet heat. Beca’s fingers glide over soaked skin, and she can only imagine how surprised she must look because Chloe half-smiles up at her.

“It’s for you,” Chloe whispers, her voice hitching.

And Beca doesn't know what to say or do because her brain can’t handle that information, can’t possibly comprehend that she turns Chloe on this much, that Chloe wants her, is aroused by her. It’s utterly mind-blowing.

So, she does the only thing she can think of and moves her fingers. She seeks, explores, intending to discover every inch, because this is it, the only first time they get. She learns Chloe’s facial expressions, learns that a stroke of her fingers makes Chloe’s eyes flutter and learns that tight circles around the bud draws Chloe’s hips up and makes her bite down on her lower lip.

Beca touches more, fingers slipping through Chloe, circling with enough pressure to make her entire body jerk, until Chloe’s hands on her shoulders pull her down into a desperate, sloppy kiss. Then Chloe breaks the away and, through labored breaths, whispers into Beca’s ear a single request, something Beca once thought she’d only hear Chloe say in her dreams.

“Okay,” Beca replies numbly. “I can do that. Anything.”

Her fingers drop lower, teasing Chloe’s entrance. And then Chloe’s reaching down and showing her, guiding her in, until Beca’s middle finger is surrounded by soft heat. Chloe moans, a soft, almost surprised sound from the back of her throat that makes Beca’s heart race. After a moment, Chloe replaces her hand, still trembling, on Beca’s back, where her touch anchors Beca.

Beca forces herself to wait, to hold still so she won’t accidentally hurt Chloe. She focuses on how Chloe feels against her hand and around her finger, how beautiful Chloe looks, her face and neck flushed, her hair wild from both Beca’s hands and her own. When Chloe’s eyes flutter open to meet hers, Beca’s chest throbs with how perfect she looks.

Chloe nods then, shifting her hips, and Beca takes the hint. She does her best to mimic what Chloe had done, moving pulling out and pushing in slowly, curling her finger, rubbing at the texture she feels inside. She watches Chloe’s face carefully, figuring what feels nice for her.

Chloe’s whimpers, gasps, and groans fill the space between them in the most harmonic symphony Beca has ever heard. She listens closely to every one, memorizing them, her mind filling the gaps between them with slow, sensual beats that she aligns with the movements of her hand and fingers.

“Like this?” Beca whispers, positioning a second finger at Chloe’s entrance.

Chloe shivers against her, her hips rising. “That’s good,” she pants brokenly. “That’s – that’s really good.”

Beca hums in acknowledgment, pressing forward with two fingers. Chloe’s eyes squeeze closed and her nails dig into Beca’s back; when Beca pulls back to thrust in again, those nails scrape lightly down her spine, leaving stinging trails that only serve to push Beca into her more firmly, using her thigh against the back of her hand. She continues, rubbing inside and pressing her palm against Chloe, moving gradually faster and more rhythmically.

“Beca, shit, I – that’s – oh shit Bec right there – I’m –”

Beca can tell when Chloe’s getting closer; she can see it in the desperation on her face, hear it in the way Chloe’s voice breaks over her name, and feel it in the way Chloe’s hips thrust erratically in time with her thrusts. Chloe tightens, her body going still, and Beca presses deep and holds, dropping more of her weight between Chloe’s legs and fluttering her fingers and pressing her palm against Chloe, doing anything she can to bring her to that brink.

Just like that, she feels it; Chloe shudders up into her, crying out her name and hooking her free leg over her hips and all Beca can do is watch. She’s enraptured, totally blown away, because she’s never felt this before, never felt that sensation around her fingers from within someone else. Knowing that she did that, that she was the one to bring Chloe to this point, that Chloe wants her this much is amazing and astonishing and beyond anything Beca has ever experienced.

Chloe comes under Beca’s touch, and it’s the most beautiful thing Beca has ever witnessed. It’s everything.

It’s Beca’s new favorite memory.

She doesn’t want it to ever end, but, of course, it does eventually. Chloe relaxes down into the mattress, melting into it, a big, goofy grin growing on her face. Her thighs relax, so Beca pulls back slowly, carefully, surveying Chloe’s expression until she’s completely out.

“Yeah?” she asks, lifting an eyebrow.

Chloe smiles up at her, something deep and unidentifiable behind her eyes. “Yeah, perfect,” she sighs, catching her breath. “You’re always perfect.”

Beca grins, moving off Chloe and to the side. She’s hit with the overwhelming need to taste Chloe, so she lifts her hand to her lips, pulling her fingers into her mouth and watching the way it makes Chloe’s lips part in surprise.

As soon as Beca’s fingers are clean, Chloe leans forward with surprising agility and kisses her hard. Beca sinks into it instinctively, her body shuddering when Chloe licks into her mouth sensually. After several minutes, Chloe pulls away from the kiss and Beca blinks her eyes open. She’s on her back again, Chloe hovering over her, and isn’t sure how that happened, but she’s not about to complain.

Especially not when Chloe looks down at her thoughtfully, a single eyebrow lifted.

“Bec, I…”

“Yeah?”

“Can I taste you? Properly, I mean.”

The words come out rushed, as if Chloe’s either impatient or embarrassed to ask, but Beca understands. She’s immediately hit with the image of Chloe’s head bobbing between her legs, and a fresh wave of arousal floods through Beca’s insides, coating her veins in desire.

“Do you – is that – do you want to?” Beca stammers. “You don’t have to.”

Chloe doesn’t answer, instead leaning down to kiss lightly along the bruises she’d already left on Beca’s neck. Beca has no idea what they look like, but from their sensitivity, she imagines they’re big and dark. She shivers again, legs shifting without her conscious command.

“Trust me,” Chloe breathes against her skin. “I want to. If you’re okay with it.”

“Yeah, that’s – yeah,” Beca manages, her voice squeaking. “Please.”

Chloe releases a jagged breath that ghosts over Beca’s skin, and then she starts moving backward, kissing her way down Beca’s body. She presses kisses along her sternum, a kiss to the peak of each breast, and drags her lips down Beca’s stomach, her tongue circling around Beca’s navel. By the time she slides off the end of the bed to stand at its foot, Beca’s quivering with anticipation, somehow even more turned on than she had been before Chloe brought her to that previous high.

A touch to her ankle makes Beca glance down; Chloe’s tugging on her legs gently, wordlessly urging her to move down in the giant bed.

“Fuck,” Beca breathes, and then she’s moving, sliding down the sheets until she’s half on the bed and half off, her legs dangling over the edge, Chloe standing between them and looking down at her.

Keeping eye contact, Chloe lowers herself to the floor, dropping to first one knee, then the other. Beca has to choke down a groan; seeing Chloe Beale on her knees between her legs makes her center actually throb with need, almost to the point of pain.

And when Chloe lifts her left leg to rest it over her shoulder, Beca’s pretty sure her soul leaves her body. Chloe shuffles closer, until she’s up close and personal with down there, and, unexpectedly, Beca feels bashful. But then Chloe looks up at her, her expression soft.

“You’re so, so beautiful, Beca.”

Instantly, Beca relaxes, shyness evaporating to leave only desperation in its wake. Beca whines, trying to convey what she wants – what she needs – and thankfully, Chloe seems to understand. She loops an arm around Beca’s thigh, the fingers of that hand pulling Beca open, while the other hand slides up Beca’s leg, over her stomach, until Beca understands what Chloe’s asking. She links their fingers together so they’re holding hands, winding her other hand into the sheets in anticipation.

Still holding eye contact, Chloe leans in.

The first swipe of Chloe’s tongue through her is long and broad, traveling from her entrance up to her bud; Beca moans loudly, uninhibited, her hips rising automatically into Chloe’s face.

“God, you’re amazing,” Chloe mumbles against her, then repeats the broad stroke of her tongue, this time flicking at Beca’s bud.

“Ah – you – that’s – you –” Beca chokes out, incoherent syllables falling from her lips. This is so different from what they’d done before, so much more intimate. Chloe’s tongue is everywhere, flattening and sweeping, then fluttering, not yet finding a set rhythm. Her nose nudges into Beca, sending zings of electricity up Beca’s spine with every pass.

Beca knots the sheets in her fist so tightly she’s amazed she hasn’t torn a hole through them. As soon as she has the thought, Chloe’s nudging at her again, insistently, and Beca glances down. The sight of bright eyes staring up at her from between her legs almost sends her over the edge right there, but Beca blocks it, gasping for air.

“Yeah?” she pants out.

“Put your hand in my hair,” Chloe says, having to pull back so her voice isn’t muffled.

Beca groans and does it, shaking out her fist from the sheets and moving it to the top of Chloe’s head. As soon as she does, Chloe reattaches her mouth and continues, her tongue and lips relentless against Beca. She licks into Beca, drawing skin between her lips to suck at and soothe with her tongue, until Beca’s writhing, arching, crying out. She knows her grip is too tight in Chloe’s hair, knows she’s pulling, but she can’t stop. Besides, by the way Chloe only hums and groans into Beca, sending vibrations through her, it seems that Chloe likes having her hair pulled.

“Look at me,” Chloe says suddenly.

Beca’s entire body trembles and she forces her head up and eyes open – she hadn’t realized she’d closed them. She watches Chloe, locking eyes as Chloe’s head moves between her legs. It’s somehow even better than she’d imagined it would be and the sight forces her legs open wider, her body begging for more. This is Chloe doing this, best friend and girlfriend Chloe, whose tongue and lips and nose and cheeks are covered in her.

“Christ, shit –” Beca swears, her body tensing and hips rising. She claws into Chloe’s hair, her other hand still intertwined with Chloe’s, that connection between them remaining, sweetening and softening the moment.

Chloe’s eyes seem to sparkle and she drops lower and moves somehow closer and Beca feels a soft intrusion, and she’s tensing around what is unmistakably Chloe’s tongue pressing inside her. It breaks something within Beca, and she’s flopping back, her head falling into the pillows and eyes slamming closed. She cries out and instantly, Chloe moves with more purpose, pressing in and dragging slowly out, then licking and sucking, sweeping over Beca rhythmically before pushing back in.

Beca can only writhe, desperate, breathing hard, her mind only able to focus on how Chloe’s mouth feels against her. She’s utterly destroyed, and all it takes is one more repeat of the cycle, Chloe’s lips closing over her bud to suck and Beca’s thrown over the edge.

She yells and tenses, her body rocking and lifting into Chloe’s face. It seems to last forever, wave after wave crashing over her, ripping wordless noises from her throat in a torrent, until finally, her body gives out and she dissolves into a mess of shivering aftershocks against the mattress.

Chloe makes a soft sound of awe, catching Beca’s attention. She finds the strength to glance up, and her body shudders again; Chloe’s looking up at her, still nestled between Beca’s legs, her cheeks and nose still covered in Beca. They hadn’t removed their makeup, and Chloe’s mascara is smudged and smeared.

“Come here,” Beca gasps, and, with one final lick up through Beca to make her body twitch and jump, Chloe eases Beca’s leg from her shoulder and stands slowly, wiping her face with the back of her hand.

Beca pushes herself back fully onto the bed, collapsing against the pillows at the headboard. Chloe joins her a moment later, sprawling beside her. Beca reaches out tiredly, and Chloe meets her lips in a gentle kiss.

Beca pulls back first, Chloe chasing it before settling against her.

“So…” Beca starts. “I think we can do that again.”

Chloe laughs, curling into Beca, their legs intertwined and arms wrapped around each other possessively. Beca’s body, still sensitive, shivers and twitches at the touch, but she sinks into Chloe.

“I’m glad you liked it,” Chloe whispers, radiant.

“Mmm,” Beca agrees, stifling a yawn. “And if you give me, like, two minutes, I’d like to try the same for you.”

“If you say so,” Chloe murmurs, pressing a kiss to Beca’s forehead.

Beca tries to respond with some snarky remark, but her eyes are already sliding closed and Chloe’s arms around her are just so comfortable that she doesn’t think she can move.

“Love you, weirdo,” she manages, knowing it comes out slurred.

“I love you, too,” Chloe breathes, and that’s the last thing Beca hears before she’s drifting off, at home in Chloe’s arms.

[ao3bronte]

Smutember: Hurt/Comfort

Masquerade on AO3

10: Hurt/Comfort

There’s fire everywhere.

Marinette skids to a stop on her back, her body having been flung off the side of a collapsing building and the crash and the noise…everything is too much. There’s something heavy weighing her down, a piece of debris probably, and she uses her legs to push it off her, revealing the carnage of the world.

There’s a high pitch noise filling her ears and the feedback, combined with the muffled sounds of everything else, gives her vertigo. She’s overwhelmed with the acid crawling up her throat as she rolls onto her stomach, clambering through the debris on her elbows, hands and knees.

Her voice sounds far away as she groans and pushes herself to her feet, stumbling backwards in an attempt to catch her balance. Her ears are screeching, her mind is racing and her legs feel like they’re going to dissolve out from underneath of her, leaving her helpless.

From the corner of her eye she spots him, slinking down the side of the Panthéon with his rifle strapped to his back. He runs at her and she’s not prepared, her defensive stance easily crumbling as he uses the butt of his gun to whip across her body, sending her flying back into the burning ruins. She lands hard on her shoulders and desperately scrambles to get back to her feet, her vision swimming in the waves of heat coming from the fires.

She tries to regain her footing but he’s too quick, kicking her and pinning her to the ground. Using his rifle, he smashes it down towards her face and Marinette has just enough energy left to dodge his blows, twisting her upper body side to side beneath the foot bearing most of his body weight on her chest. Then, using his grappling hook, he launches himself in the air with her in tow and drops her from a four-storey height, chuckling as she disappears into the fiery ruins with a cloud of dust.

He lands and finds her prone within the rubble, picking her up by the collar of her neck and she hangs there, unable to move, exhausted and barely holding on to her transformation, grasping at straws. She doesn’t want to go out like this, not with the fate of her partner resting on her shoulders, bleeding out somewhere where she’d hoped he’d be safe. But now, with the building completely in ruins, she’s not even sure there will be anything left to save.

“Many have said that I’d made a deal with the devil,” Le Tireur laughs as he drops her, her body collapsing like a sack of gravel to the cobblestones, “This Papillon, this man that wears people like masks. I don’t think he knew what he was in for when he tried to possess me.”

He circles her as she presses her palms against the wreckage and attempts to push her chest upright, “You, on the other hand, are a fighter. I like that,” he smirks and tips her chin up with the muzzle of his rifle so she can look him in the eye, “I’m a hunter you know. When I was a boy, my father used to take me into the woods. We’d hunt for wild boar and deer all sorts of other creatures. It felt good to shoot them, to cut them open and skin them, to hang them and eat their meat. It's all about the thrill of the chase.”

Marinette struggles to find purchase on the crumbling rocks, their surfaces slick with blood, “I am not your prey.”

“Ah, but you are. I’ve been watching you Ladybug, tracking your whereabouts around the city. I know where you live, I know where you go to school,” he grins, exposing his perfect white teeth, “You ought to be more careful, not that it matters. Le Papillon wanted these stupid earrings and once I have them in my possession, you won’t be much of a problem any longer.”

Marinette grits her teeth and spots the flaming façade of the Panthéon swaying behind him. She swallows uncomfortably and gets to her hands and knees, her eyes glued to the building, “It’s going to fall.”

“You are going to fail,” Le Tireur gloats, flicking the safety on the rifle’s action before aiming it at her.

“Turn around!” she cries, her eyes growing wider as the building begins to keel, scrambling backwards. Le Tireur stands his ground and laughs, peering down the front sight of his rifle with a sneer.

“Time to end this little game Ladybug,” he smirks, aiming the barrel at her forehead.

“I’m trying to save you!” she screams, fumbling for the yoyo holstered at her waist.

It’s too late.

The building comes crashing down like a collapsing wave, the bottom stories crumbling beneath the weight of the top of the structure, the sound of chaos deafening in her ears. She scrambles to her feet and runs as fast as she can away from the Panthéon, away from the man she tried to save as he turns around and watches as the stones rain down upon him, crushing him completely.

“NOOOOO!” she screams, collapsing to her knees from the force of the shock wave. She fumbles against a huge piece of marble and pulls herself upright, turning to rush back into the fire, to try and save him.

It’s too late.

It’s silent for a long moment, the feedback and the fire and the smoke filling her senses. It’s dark and the fire is blinding in the nighttime, forcing her to squint and look away. Her body aches as she stands, her head lolling on her shoulders as she faces the fire and the carnage and wishes she’d never opened that damn box. The power of a Miraculous gone wrong is what caused this, this destruction, this chaos, this utter and complete loss of life. The power of the Ladybug could only do so much…she didn’t know if it could bring people back from the dead.

Somewhere Chat was laying prone on his back, a handkerchief anchored by a scarf wrapped around the wound in his abdomen. Dizzy and unsteady, she wonders if he's still alive, if anyone was still alive after all this.

Using the debris to help her forward, Marinette stumbles through the rubble and spots her lucky charm several metres away. Her mind is swimming as she trips over a steel support beam and falls to her knees but she’s determined to get there, determined to throw that thing up into the sky if it’s the last thing she does. Every step takes a week, every stumble lasts a month; time is buckling beneath the weight of her head and shoulders and arms and legs, distorting and twisting every thought and sound. She stares at the fire extinguisher, the one she’d had to use to save Chat instead of defeating her enemy and reaches for it, watching it flicker out of reach like a mirage and appearing again some metres away. She chases it, finally reaches it, and tosses it up with as much energy as she can muster, watching the ladybugs fly.

~

They meet the next day under the veil of moonlight.

They’re tucked into one of the more secluded areas of Le jardin des Tuileries, not that it matters. There’s no one walking around a park at 02:00 in the morning, especially not when a psychopath had nearly razed it to the ground less than twenty-four hours ago.

The citizens of Paris were a resilient people, their Ville Lumière having survived thousands of years of destruction and war, famine and besiegement. Typically, the citizens simply pulled up their socks after an akuma attack, happy to have Ladybug there to save the day.

What they hadn’t banked on was the rest.

The people who died in the earlier attacks didn’t come back and the people who were hurt or killed in last night’s attack were all right of course, but the memories remained. They didn’t simply forget like the akuma all so often did, shaking their heads clear and going about their day; the people affected, and there were many, bore a different kind of scar.

Chat Noir was one of those people.

They sit against the base of a tree, their legs crossed and their shoulders hunched. Chat presses a palm against the lower left side of his abdomen and breathes.

“I think I died,” he says simply, as if he were commenting on the weather. His tone is hollow though and he keeps his eyes fixed on the grass in front of him, still and unblinking.

She feels the blood drain from her face as she tangles her fingers with his, squeezing gently.

“It felt like falling asleep,” he murmurs, his voice softening to a whisper, “I just closed my eyes and then…”

He trails off and Marinette has never felt such a pain in her chest, the hurt deeper than any of the burns and wounds she’d gotten fighting Le Tireur the night prior.

“When I came to, I had changed back,” he shrugs wearily, “It was like nothing had happened but…I can still feel it…does that make sense? It’s gone, but I can still feel where the bullet went through my stomach.”

She can’t help it anymore and turns her body towards him, pulling him into her chest. He collapses against her, his upper body overtaking hers as she leans back against the tree, taking the brunt of the blow. She encircles him with her arms and presses her cheek against the crown of his head and every breath is a reminder of how much she could have lost, how much she has at stake with or without him. It aches and every muscle in her body sings with it, every throb of her heart pounding in her ears proof that she couldn't do this without him, wouldn't do this without him.

He takes a deep, shuddering breath and tries to keep his emotions at bay. She senses his turmoil amidst her own and cards the fingers of her right hand through his hair, keeping the left firmly wrapped around him.

"I thought he was going to kill me," she says softly, gently kneading the gloved pads of her fingers against his scalp, "He aimed at me and was about to pull the trigger and all I could think about was what he was going to do to my family."

"You've always had luck on your side," he replies, his voice muffled against her chest. She kisses the top of his head and it's a tender gesture she'd never thought she'd offer him, not before today.

"It didn't feel that way yesterday," she rubs circles on his back, "I thought I'd lost you."

"You did," he replies, "I failed you. I couldn't protect you."

She hugs him harder, "I wouldn't have been able to defeat him without your help."

"You found a way…you always do."

It's rare to see this side of him, the side that hides behind the confident facade of his mask. He's shared little anecdotes with her over the years about his civilian life, about how he's never been good enough, of how he misses what it's like to be wanted. She knows he has a good group of friends who love him, who know what his father is like, and he’s always had her (…but has he? Has he really?). She buries her nose in his hair and breathes deeply, the smell of his shampoo and the pressure of his body against her comforting in the chill.

"I would have been dead without you and you know it. Don't you dare sell yourself short."

He hums and resettles his head against her chest, his voice less muffled this time, "Is that an order?"

She hesitates, "It's a request. I know what you're worth. You should too."

"It's hard sometimes," he mumbles and buries his face back into her chest, miserable. Something rears inside of her, ugly and fierce and it wants to protect him from the world. She brackets his body in between her thighs to stabilise them and slides her hand down towards his cheek, cupping his chin so she can lift him to face her.

"You have all the makings of a supervillain you know, and yet here you are. You’ve got an evil dad, you’ve got the power to destroy things and bad luck's curse? You chose to be good and you are good! Your friends love you, Paris loves you, like, do you know how many fans you have?" she rubs her thumb back and forth against his cheekbone with a smile, "And most importantly, what would Ladybug be without her Chat Noir?"

"She would still save Paris," he says, his small smile not quite reaching his eyes.

"When we first started out, Tikki told me about how Ladybug needed Chat Noir. I didn't understand until she explained how our magic works, that we're two sides of the same coin. I'd be unbalanced without you, the yang without its ying. And it’s not just the magic though. Believe it or not, I do actually enjoy your company.”

"What about my jokes?" he says and finally, there's that spark behind his eyes.

"Definitely not your jokes. I hate your jokes."

"But I purrfect them just for you."

"No."

"I've got a gut feline that you're just saying that."

"No."

"I can tail that you love them!"

"Hush Chaton. You're impawsible."

"So you do love my jokes!" his face lights up like a Christmas tree and it makes him look younger, that innocent and naïve and childlike Chat from so many years ago. They'd changed quite a bit since then, grown older and wiser from the responsibilities they'd accepted, back when they were young. She had no idea what she was getting into when she’d accepted the Miraculous she now wore in her ears, and she wonders if Chat thinks about it too, about how much easier their lives would have been if not for the tangled web they’d been weaved into without really knowing much about it at all.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she retorts, trying her best to look serious. It’s hard when he’s smiling the way he is now, his nose a hair’s breadth from hers, his eyes brimming with mirth and something else.

“Yes you do,” he croons, brushing his nose against hers. It’s such a silly gesture but there’s an intimacy to it, one that makes her blood sing with emotions she’s not entirely familiar with. It feels amazing, whatever it is, and it makes her want to pull him even closer.

“You’re hallucinating,” she nuzzles him back, the tips of their noses bumping tenderly.

His smile softens, “There’s no illusion on earth that could compete with your beauty M’Lady.”

She rolls her eyes and pokes his cheek with her finger, “You’re such a weirdo.”

“But I’m your weirdo, if you’ll have me.”

It’s that line again, the one that makes her toes curl and her fingers tingle with fervour. She closes her eyes and rests her forehead against his, a slow grin taking over her lips.

“Yes. Everything and more.”

[luffysfakebeard]

I’m Finally Home; 1840 words Isak and Even watch Lito’s speech at pride and Isak gets reflective [AO3] DOES CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR 1 SCENE OF SENSE8 S2 IF YOU HAVEN’T WATCHED IT YET

When Isak gets home from work he’s dead on his feet.  All he wants is to strip off his clothes and crawl into bed with Even and sleep for at least 12 hours.

So when he stumbles into their room and finds Even on his laptop wiping his tears away with the sleeve of his hoody, Isak’s heart sinks through the floor.

“Baby?” He drops his bag without a second thought and crosses the room quickly. “What’s wrong?” Isak asks as he crawls up the bed to his sniffling boyfriend.

“No, no, it’s- I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m just watching something.” Even shakes his head, laughing tearfully and wiping at his eyes some more and relief has Isak flopping into the mattress with a groan.

“You had me worried for a second.” Isak mumbles, his voice muffled into the duvet.

“Sorry.” Even gives him a comforting rub between the shoulder blades and Isak melts even further into the mattress.  He’s pretty sure he could fall asleep like this.  Even if he is still in his outdoor clothes.

“I think you should watch it, actually.” Even says casually, rubbing Isak’s back slowly. Isak’s definitely going to fall asleep if Even keeps doing that.

“Nooooo, Even, I’m too tired to start a new show.” Isak shakes his head, still face down on the bed.

“No, not the whole show, but I think you should watch this scene.” Even persists.

“How long is it?” Isak peaks across at Even, reluctant to move.

“Not even five minutes.” Even says after a few seconds of scrolling along the timeline at the bottom of his Netflix screen.

“Okay, okay.” Isak concedes.  “But I gotta change first.” He heaves himself up into a sitting position with a groan and Even gives him a sympathetic smile as he looks around for his sweats.

“Hey, I got it.” Even says, and before Isak can ask what he means Even has sprung into action.  He moves his laptop from his lap and leans over to Isak.  Even unbuttons Isak’s work shirt with nimble fingers and pushes it from Isak’s shoulders, leaving him in just his undershirt, before pushing Isak down gently so he can get his jeans off.

Isak smiles weakly, too tired to fight this babying, and allows Even to strip him of his jeans and slide his sweats up in their place.

“There.” Even drops a warm kiss to the tip of Isak’s nose and then sits back up against the wall of pillows he had clearly spent the evening perfecting.

“Thanks.” Isak mumbles as he gets himself under the duvet and cuddles up next to Even, peering at the screen curiously.  “What show are we watching?”

“It’s called Sense8.” Even replies.  “You ready for Lito’s big moment?” Isak nods, curious to see what on screen magic brought his boyfriend to tears this time.  Even hits the space bar and Isak settles in for the next five minutes.

Isak’s immediately overwhelmed by the pride parade taking up the entire screen. It looks like thousands of people showed up, and there’s no dull colour anywhere in sight.  It’s everything that Isak circa 2015 was terrified of being associated with, but something now that makes Isak’s heart ache with longing.

The giant rainbow coloured balloon arch makes him think of Eskild, and the thought makes him smile to himself.

And then the guy, Lito, starts to talk, and Isak can’t look away.

I want to say that I am very honoured to be here.  A tense pause as he stares across the screaming crowds of people.  That is not true.  To be honest with you, I have never been as scared as I am right now.

And Isak can see himself in this man.  He recognises the sad eyes and the feeling of pure terror in the face of all these people who are out and proud and loud about it.

All of my life, I have had to pretend to be something I wasn’t.

Isak thinks of all the girls he hooked up with for the sake of appearances, all the mechanical kisses and the few handjobs that made a part of him curl up and die every time.

Lito looks over and the camera pans to a – fucking gorgeous – guy with his beard dyed in pride colours.  The boyfriend, Isak suspects.  He nods encouragingly, mouthing words of support and looking at Lito with so much love that Isak can’t help but look up at Even.

He loves Even so much.  Does Even understand that?

Looking back to the screen, Isak can feel his heart rate speeding up.  The music is rising with Lito’s quick breathing.  The crowd is dead silent as he psyches himself up to say something.  Even the balloons seem still.

Isak sees it, recognises it, the terrified elated look on the guy’s face as he readies himself to say the words.

I am a gay man.  He almost whispers it into the microphone, but to Isak it’s as loud as a bell.  The crowd cheers at his words and Lito sighs with relief, and Isak thinks of a cold afternoon sat on a bench with the words ‘it’s not a girl’ hanging between him and his best friend.  Words that Isak had been so afraid to say for so long, but didn’t seem to faze Jonas at all.

Lito almost doubles over, gasping with relief.  I have never said those words in public before.  And then it’s like the dam is broken.  I am a gay man!  He exclaims it over and over, louder and louder, and Isak swears he can feel those words thrumming in his blood.

Why did I have to be so afraid to say that?!  He demands, and Isak’s whole body tenses up. He remembers a hundred instances of people telling him the things he liked were gay or that he acted too gay and the way it sent fear slicing right to his core.  Even now, years after, recalling those words sends a fissure of fear down his spine.

He remembers painfully clearly how scared he had been to come out to his friends after a lifetime of equating being gay with all the wrong things.  Remembers staring at Mahdi and Magnus in the empty classroom and trying not to hyperventilate, shooting desperate stares over at Jonas for help.

Remembers the almost accusing tone in Magnus’ voice when he asked if Isak was gay and how Isak had immediately shut him down even though he’d been trying to come out and he’d had to stutter back over his words.  ‘Maybe I’m a little gay’.  And here he was now, cuddled in bed with his boyfriend in their shared flat.

Because I know that people are afraid of people that are different from them.  And…admitting that I am different, and refusing to pretend to be something that I am not may cost me a career of pretending to be things that I am not, which is…kind of crazy when you think about it.

But I did.  For years, I was living inside the fake world of the movie set.  Never daring to imagine that one day, I might be brave enough to do something like this.

And Isak’s chest aches.  It hurts like a purple bruise being prodded; a dull ache that goes right through you. He knows that feeling.  He remembers how fake his life was, how carefully choreographed everything he did was in order to shield the part of him society had convinced him was shameful and wrong and disgusting.

He fumbles under the duvet for Even’s hand and clings onto it.

Even clings back just as hard.

Lito grins breathlessly and turns back to his boyfriend, who looks startled to suddenly be the focus of attention.  Lito goes over to him and takes his hand, and at the way the boyfriend gasps Isak knows it’s the first time they’ve done something so publicly.

Isak vividly remembers those moments with Even.  The timid – terrified – touches slowly pushing Isak’s boundaries of PDA as a young gay man.  Moments that made him so thankful for Even’s seemingly endless patience.

Isak watches, enraptured, as Lito pulls his overwhelmed-looking boyfriend up onto the platform he had been speaking on.  The crowd is cheering and whistling and waving huge rainbow flags and Isak can’t look away.

This is Hernando.  Lito introduces his boyfriend to the world.  He’s the love of my life.  Lito’s voice breaks.  Isak thinks back to all the little introductions of Even he’s ever done, from the big to the small.

He forgets, sometimes, how scary the word ‘boyfriend’ used to seem.

I am a better, braver person because of him. Lito and Hernando are stood face to face, almost resting their foreheads together. Isak smiles, knowing that while Lito might be addressing the whole parade the words are spoken only for Hernando. He and Even have done it a hundred times.

And whatever it costs for me to be able to do this, I know in my heart that it is worth it.  The music is rising again and Isak’s heart races with it. And then they kiss.  Nothing explicit; a chaste press of lips together and an arm wrapping around a lover’s waist, but Isak knows a kiss that changes a life when he sees it.

He remembers lazy kisses in the kollektiv’s kitchen, the words ‘man of my life’ whispered between them.

Slow languid kisses in a glass elevator with Oslo spread out beneath them.

Hesitant terrified kisses in the misty rain out of Nissen when he thought Even was lost to him forever and the words you are not alone being breathed against Even’s skin.

Their first chaste kiss in public in front of their friends, and the thousands that had followed.

Isak watches as Lito dips Hernando mid-kiss, and he lets out a shaky laugh.  Such a cliché move; one he’s honestly a little surprised that Even hasn’t tried with him yet.

The kiss doesn’t last long.  Lito breaks away and yells into the mic that it’s time to party, and Isak watches in awe as confetti erupts from the float and countless balloons are let go.  The camera flashes across various pride partiers, optimistic music in the background.

As the camera returns to Lito and Hernando sharing another kiss amongst the throng of people on the giant float, Isak listens to the singer’s words.

I’ve finally made it home.

The scene plays out with more partying, but Isak’s eyes are focused on Even.

“I’m at home with you.” Isak whispers.  He can taste salt on his lips when he speaks but he doesn’t care.  He doesn’t know when the tears slipped out, doesn’t recall crying at all, but he isn’t surprised by them.  Even looks down at him, his blue eyes glassy with tears he managed to keep in.

“You’ll always be my home, baby.” Even leans down and presses a kiss to Isak’s lips, chasing the taste of salt.

“Always.” Isak promises.

[altessah]

Accidents Happen -- Chapter 10

Hey all! So it’s been another year, but I got back around to this fic.

It’s a mortal au where Nico has to deal with his feelings for Percy after Bianca’s death, when he returns to a public high school after being homeschooled. Then he meets Will and joins his band as a guitarist. Cue more feelings. Sorry to be so late on the update! AO3

“You look like death,” Will remarked on Friday afternoon as he jumped up Nico’s front stoop and breezed through the door. Autumn was beginning to settle in the trees, and a few dead leaves trailed after him as he hurried inside.

“Thanks,” Nico mumbled, following Will towards the basement. He could hear Connor and Travis tittering around on their respective instruments from upstairs.

“What’s up, man?” Will asked, a hint of concern in his voice. He was standing in front of the stairwell, purposefully blocking the way.

“Nothing,” Nico replied unconvincingly.

Will just raised an eyebrow and didn’t move.

Nico sighed. “Ugh, okay fine. I’m just… nervous about the gig. That’s all.”

Will looked skeptical at first, but seemed to decide to believe him. “Of course. I forgot you’ve never performed in front of a crowd before.”

“Yeah,” Nico replied, keeping his eyes downcast.

“Hey, it’s okay, man,” Will insisted, patting his shoulder with only a slight awkwardness. “You’re gonna do great. You’re an awesome guitarist.” He smiled cheesily.

“Thanks.”

With a pat on the shoulder, Will turned on his heel and hurried down the stairs.

The moment that Nico’s foot hit the last stair, the Stolls grabbed him by the arms and practically threw him to the ground, knocking his head on the floor in the process.

“Ow – Connor, what the hell?”

“WE”VE GOT HIM PINNED, SOLACE!”

“IT’S NOW OR NEVER, BUDDY!”

“WE CAN’T HOLD THE BEAST BACK MUCH LONGER!”

Will looked perplexed for half a second, and then he sighed. “Ahh. I forgot about this.”

“What? Will, what’s going on?” Nico strained to pull his arms out of Connor’s grasp, but the man had him thoroughly pinned. As if reading Nico’s mind, Travis sat on his feet.

Will offered a dramatic sigh. “You see, I got the text in third period. I somehow forgot.”

“Forgot what?” Nico demanded.

Shaking his head with intense solemnity, Will took out his phone, pulled something up, and then displayed it to Nico, whose eyes took a second to focus on the text message.

KATIE GARDNER SAID YES TO ME, BITCHEZ!!

Awww yeah now willy has to lick nico’s face!

Nooooo omg

His cheeks tinted slightly pink, Will put his phone back in his pocket and sighed. “Here goes nothing.”

As Nico struggled to pull out of Connor’s death grip, Will cracked all his knuckles and then his neck.

“Did you guys seriously mean that? Because I definitely do not remember you shaking on it. And let’s be real, if there’s not a handshake, then the bet didn’t happen. I don’t think that—”

Nico was interrupted by Will’s tongue sliding slowly across his cheek. He closed his eyes.

“You see? Easy.” Connor stood up and brushed his hands on his jeans. “Shall we practice?”

Travis stood up next, grinning ear-to-ear. “It’s been a good day.”

Will looked at the Stolls and sighed, before making uncomfortable eye contact with Nico. He offered him a hand. “Let’s practice, man. Also, you need to shave.”

Nico got up on his own and could not even let out a squeak.

As they played through the setlist, Nico found himself surprised at how good they sounded. While their first practices had mainly consisted of Nico being lost, Connor correcting Will’s pitch, and Travis trying to add cowbell to literally everything, the four of them had really pulled things together nicely. Nico’s fingers found the right chords without him needing to think about it, and Travis’s solos lasted the exact counts he was allotted—not twelve extra measures. Even Will seemed a lot more confident, letting one hand wave dramatically in the air instead of gluing it awkwardly to the microphone.

The other three seemed to be thinking the same thing as Nico, because they were all grinning and adding unnecessary dance moves and head bobs to their performances. As they finished up a rock rendition of Love Me Now, Will turned around and met Nico’s eyes, and flashed him a wide smile, his cheeks bright pink and his hair a little sweaty. Feeling his insides squirm a little, Nico smiled back.

By the end of the rehearsal, they were all a little jittery. They’d run through every song twice with minimal mistakes (Connor had forgotten a key change and Will said “goat” instead of “gloat”), but it felt weird to just call it a day. It was the last rehearsal before the gig.

Nico could tell that Will was panicking a little because he kept reading over lyrics on his phone and mumbling them quickly under his breath. After a while, Travis and Connor decided to head home for dinner, packing up their instruments and slapping Nico and Will on the back as they headed up. Significantly sweatier than before, Will quietly asked Nico if he could hang around and practice part of one song where his lyrics lined up with a guitar riff.

“Will, we’ve practiced this bit like fifty times,” Nico said, exasperated, half an hour later. “I think we’ve got it down.”

Will shook his head. “I know, I know, I’m sorry. I just feel like this is my worst bit.”

“But you’ve been playing it perfectly for the last twenty minutes!”

Will just scowled at the microphone. “I just know that this is what I’m gonna screw up.”

“Who says you’re gonna screw anything up?” Nico set his guitar down against the couch and collapsed, yawning into a cushion.

“I always screw up at least once,” Will stated. “And it’s always the part that I practice a million times. In the moment I just freak out and forget what I’m doing.”

Nico stretched and sat up. “Even if you do mess up, no one’s gonna notice. They’ll all be drunk off their asses.”

Will let his hand fall from the microphone. “You’re right.”

“Why are you so scared?” Nico asked after a moment, remembering Will’s confidence from earlier. “You’ve done this before, right?”

Will nodded slowly, walking away from the equipment to join Nico on the couch. He closed his eyes and put his head back on the cushion. “Yeah, I’ve done this stuff before. I guess it’s just never been this big of a crowd. And it’s never been people that are then gonna judge what I wear to school on Monday.”

“Seriously?” Nico laughed. “Why do you care what they think about your clothes?”

Will opened his eyes and turned to him. “Of course I care, Nico. It’s freshman year of high school. I have to care because I’m gonna be seeing them every day for the next three and a half years of my life, and they can make those three and a half years as awesome or as miserable as they want.” He put his head back down. “I just don’t want them thinking I’m a dweeb.”

“They’re not gonna think you’re a dweeb for messing up one verse.”

Will shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe not. But it still stresses me out, okay?” He let out a slow breath. “Whatever. I don’t expect you to get it, anyway.”

Nico looked at him. “What? Why?”

Will lifted his head again. “I don’t know, man. That stuff just doesn’t seem to get to you. You just let it roll off your back. People gossip and whisper about how you were homeschooled, and your family, and the whole thing with you and Percy—”

“There’s not a thing between me and Percy,” Nico cut in, his ears going red. His heart began to pound immediately. He knew people had found out. Someone had seen it and told someone else who’d told someone else. The whole school knew and thought he was some kind of creep who took advantage of drunk guys at parties.

“Whoa chill, I just meant the whole thing with your sister and all,” Will said, looking concerned. After a moment, his brow furrowed. “Wait, was there something else?”

Nico looked at the carpet. “No, sorry. I just… heard a rumor the other day.”

Unlike earlier, Will didn’t seem to buy his lie.

“Nico, what hap—”

“Nothing, Will. I don’t want to talk about it,” Nico huffed. He could feel that his face was beet red. “I get that you’re afraid of messing up and ruining your amazing reputation or whatever, but I can’t deal with this. I’ve got enough stress on my own about stuff that actually matters. I’m sorry I can’t run the same phrase with you a hundred freaking times.”

Will was silent for a minute, staring out into space. Nico didn’t look at him, just focused on the same stain in the carpet, trying not to think about the friendship he might have just ruined. After what felt like the longest silence, Will stood up, brushing off the seat of his pants.

“You know, Nico, I think you’d be a little less stressed out about stuff if you actually talked about things and didn’t just get mad when people don’t understand your depressing, complicated life.” He unplugged the microphone from the amp with more force than was necessary, and coiled the wire quickly around his arm. “It’s not that hard to open up, especially not to your best friend.”

He dropped the coiled wire on top of the amp and grabbed his backpack, still not making eye contact with Nico, who was still stuck to the couch, unable to find words.

“Thanks for having us over. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Nico sat in the same position for about an hour, unable to find the motivation to get up.

*            *            *

             The next day felt like it lasted an eternity.

Nico hadn’t been able to fall asleep the night before, partially because he was freaking out about the fight with Will, and partially because the house was still freezing. He hadn’t seen his dad since his drunken breakdown, and Nico couldn’t find the courage to seek him out. At around 3:30 in the morning, he heard his dad stomping down the stairs, probably to get food or another beer, but Nico fell asleep before he heard him return. The next day, he woke up a little past noon, sweating through the fifty blankets he’d wrapped around himself to fall asleep.

For a moment, all he could focus on was getting out of bed so he could cool down, but the moment he was standing groggily in his underwear, everything came flooding back.

His dad was a mess. Will hated his guts. The gig was today.

With a groan, Nico fell back on the bed, pressing his eyes closed to try and block it all out.

A while later, when he got the courage to check his phone, he found nothing from Will, but was surprised by a text from an unknown number. A weird feeling in the pit of his stomach, he opened it.

Hey Nico—It’s Annabeth. I wanted to text you because Percy’s been freaking out about something that he thinks happened between you guys at that party the other day. He feels really bad and wants you to know that nothing was your fault. I 100% agree with him. Text me when you get this!

Part of Nico wanted to puke. He had secretly hoped that Percy would never remember the details of that night. Nico’s age old crush could remain a secret that could never get out to the school and ruin him. Annabeth would never know that Percy had unknowingly been unfaithful.

But another part of Nico was relieved. After all, this scenario was probably for the better. Percy remembered. He didn’t hate him. Annabeth wasn’t mad. Everything had worked out in the best way that it could have, without anyone getting horribly hurt. Nico felt his chest loosen up as he texted Annabeth back.

Thanks Annabeth. I’m sorry and I don’t blame him either.

He pressed send and immediately let out a heavy breath. Trying not to think about Will, he threw on some clothes, brushed his teeth, and headed down to get food.

When he passed his father’s room, he was surprised to find the door open. His dad always closed the door, even if he wasn’t inside. Nico could hear his loud snores from the other end of the hall. Nervously, he padded over and peered inside. His dad was passed out, face down on his bed, with what looked like a photo album beside him. A plate with half a pancake and some syrup was on his nightstand. There was still a light on.

While he was still concerned, Nico was relieved that his dad wasn’t still in that grimy white t-shirt and that there weren’t any empty bottles by the bed. Grabbing the dirty pancake plate, Nico headed downstairs.

The rest of the day was incredibly uneventful. He packed up his guitar and picked an outfit for that night. He took a long shower, shaved (per Will’s suggestion), and blow dried his hair so it wouldn’t be too flat. Connor texted Nico that he could pick him up at around 10:15.

Are you picking up Will too?

Nah he said he’d just walk. He lives really close

Nico felt his stomach tighten, irrationally wondering if Will was avoiding him. He wanted more than anything to text and apologize, but he just couldn’t find the courage. Will could still be angry. He should give him space.

That decision didn’t keep Nico from obsessively checking his phone over the course of the next few hours, pleading and pleading for something from Will. Nick Lantoya added him on Facebook to formally invite him to the event, but that was about it.

“Hello Ladies and Gents! I’m pleased to invite you to what’s going to be the craziest event of the homecoming season! Are you fed up with teachers? Sick of homework? Exhausted from the pain that is living a grueling teenaged life? Then join us at 1300 Griggs St. after the homecoming dance to celebrate our spectacular loss at the game last night! We’ll have food, some live music, and all the booze you can ask for… provided you bring $5. Can’t wait to see you sick bastards there!!”

There were close to two hundred people who said they were coming to the event, and Nico felt his palms begin to sweat as he scrolled through the list, recognizing some of Percy’s friends and not too many others. Sure enough, Percy and Annabeth said they were coming too, and the thought of them watching Nico perform made him feel nauseous again. He decided to wait to eat until dinner.

By the time that Nico got around to microwaving some leftover pizza, he’d heard his father moving around his room upstairs and the shower turned on. At around seven, his dad finally came downstairs.

“Mornin,” he joked, striding into the room and making a beeline for the fridge.

“Hey,” Nico replied in a mumble.

“Sleep well?” his father asked. “Sorry I had the thermostat so cold.”

“I’m used to it.”

His father grabbed a slice of pizza and plopped down at the table, eating it cold. He eyed Nico curiously, as if trying to gauge if he was mad. Nico pretended not to notice and chewed his crust.

“You’ve got a performance tonight, as I recall.”

“Yeah,” Nico said. “We’re playing at one of Travis’s friend’s homecoming parties.”

“Ahh, so it’s homecoming weekend then. Was the game last night?”

“Yeah, we lost.”

“Too bad,” his father said with a dramatic sigh. “And the dance is tonight then. Are you going?”

Nico laughed a little. “Nah, it’s not really my kind of thing.”

“But you could’ve gone with that Will boy! And your other friends of course.”

“We all just wanted to get ready for the gig,” Nico stated, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“I understand.”

His dad chewed his pizza thoughtfully for a moment. Nico checked his phone for the billionth time. Nothing from Will. He let out another heavy breath.

“Well, good luck then,” said his father. “Do you need a ride?”

“Connor’s taking me.”

“Okay.” He smirked. “If you need a ride back—for any reason—please let me know.”

Nico felt his ears get a little warm. “Okay.”

He could tell his father wanted to talk more, but thankfully, he got the message and left Nico to obsessively check his phone. The next three hours felt like a millennium; yet, when Connor’s headlights shined through the living room blinds, Nico still felt like he needed more time to emotionally prepare. He and Connor loaded the amps into the van, and after Nico shouted goodbye to his dad, they were on the road.

“You nervous?” he asked Connor after a long silence. The radio was playing a Fall out Boy song that they were going to play later.

“Yeah, a little,” admitted Connor. “I think I’m just gonna get a little buzzed before we go on so I won’t overthink anything.”

Nico frowned. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Connor grinned. “I’ll be fine, don’t you worry your skinny little neck.”

Slightly more anxious than before, Nico sat back and shut up for the rest of the ride.

When they got to the house, Nick Lantoya greeted them at the door, grinning widely and clapping their backs harder than was entirely necessary.

“I’m so glad you guys are here! You’re gonna be a huge hit, I just know it!” He gripped each of their shoulders (Nico had a sneaking suspicion he was using them as a crutch), and led them into his kitchen.

His house was pretty big. Not as big as Nico’s but it could definitely hold two hundred people. Some of Nick’s buddies were in the kitchen, blaring some rap music while they poured different colored liquids into a huge cooler. Some of it splashed over the side, and Nico saw that it was a deep, bluish-greenish color.

“The stage is out back, so you can go ahead and get set up,” Nick told them. “We’ve got an extension cord running behind the stage with a huge power strip. Let me know if you need anything else. The drum set is already set up.”

“Where’s Will?” Connor asked.

One of the guys stirring the juice chuckled. “Your boy’s in the bathroom. Has been for the last ten minutes.”

Another guy with muscles bigger than his head laughed. “That kid’s an idiot. I think I love him.”

All four of them laughed, and Nick smiled at Will and Connor. “He should be good by eleven thirty. He just got a bit of a head start.”

“Puke and rally,” one of the guys mumbled, and the others nodded in agreement.

“Oh jeez,” Connor mumbled under his breath, heading for what must have been the bathroom.

Nico didn’t move, just stared at the guys as they poured more weird liquids into the cooler, rapping along to the loud music. Some of the cabinets behind them were zip-tied shut. So was the fridge. What did they mean about Will getting a head start? Nico thought, beginning to panic. Puke and rally? Is he okay?

As if answering his question, Will practically exploded into the room, an empty can falling from his hand onto the ground. Just as Nico turned, Will slipped a little on the floor and nearly collided with him as he went in for a huge bear hug.

“Nico!” Will shouted in his ear. “My man! The lord, the legend! What is up?”

Thoroughly startled, Nico pulled away from the hug, staring at the stain on the collar of Will’s black shirt. Nervously, he asked, “Hey Will, how are you?”

“I’m doing good, my man.” He let out a loud, long burp, accidentally kicked his left foot with his right, and started to collapse, so that Nico and Connor had to grab him by the arms to keep him upright. The other guys watched from the kitchen and laughed.

As they dragged a babbling Will around to sit on the couch, Connor met Nico’s eyes and shook his head, his eyes seeming to say something along the lines of ‘we’re screwed.’

“What happened?” Nico asked quietly, trying not to blush as Will mumbled something about shiny hair and started touching Nico’s bangs.

“He’s wasted, man,” Connor said solemnly, snatching an unopened beer from Will’s hand. “Half an hour before people even get here, and our lead singer’s absolutely shitfaced.”

Will grasped Nico’s hand and held it tightly, his eyes closed and his head thrown back. He smelled like puke.

“What are we gonna do?” Nico asked Connor, staring at his hand in Will’s.

Connor sighed and shook his head. “There’s nothing we can do but set up the stage and keep this one away from the Natty Light.” He took a napkin and started to dab at the stain on Will’s shirt. He looked over at Nico like a resigned parent. “The show must go on, I guess.”