#i am never drawing this dude again the chest hairs nearly took me out you can tell when i started giving up

[sketchingdead]

I drew him for a friend <3

process below!

[intheticklecloset]

Laugh Out Loud (SK8 the Infinity)

Summary: See above.

A/N: The video referenced in this fic can be found here. Enjoy! ^^

Word Count: 1,676

~~~

It started out a soft snicker – extremely common for the blue-haired Langa. Reki grinned to himself as he continued to browse the internet with his phone, barely aware of Miya showing Langa something on his until those soft snickers became louder giggles, followed eventually by wheezing laughter. When Reki finally looked up to see what was going on, he was shocked to see Langa nearly in Miya’s lap, doubled over with hysterics, tears streaming down his face.

Reki knew immediately just seeing it once would never be enough.

“Yo, Miya,” he said, barely able to contain his own mirth just for watching Langa get lost in his. “What are you showing him?”

“Some video I found. It’s kind of old but it’s this American lady acting like a total five-year-old.” The younger boy stared at the helpless Langa in his lap and chuckled. “I mean, I thought it was kind of dumb, but apparently Langa thinks it’s hilarious.”

At that moment the lady in said video yelled something through her own laughing fit, which Reki could barely hear, as Miya didn’t have the volume up very loud. Neither of them knew what she said since she was speaking English, but Langa knew, and in the next moment he flopped himself onto Miya’s lap entirely, bursting into the loudest laughter either of them had ever heard from him.

It didn’t take long for Reki and Miya to follow his lead. By the time the video was finally over, all three of them were laughing up a storm – Langa from the video, Reki and Miya from watching Langa.

“Dude,” Reki wheezed once he’d finally regained his breath. “What was so funny?”

“The – the vihihihideo!” Langa laughed, wiping tears from his eyes. He pushed himself back up and sucked in a huge breath of air. “Cahahan you forward that to me? I’ve got to see it again!”

Miya smirked. “Sure. Here, slime – I’ll text you the link.”

“Thanks.” Langa bit his lip to try and control himself, but when his phone buzzed and he saw the link, he burst into giggles again. “Oh, god, why did you show me that? I’ll never recover!”

“Maybe that’s a good thing.”

Reki beamed. “I’ve never heard you laugh so hard, Langa. I didn’t even know you could be that loud!”

Langa merely pressed play on the video, immediately dissolving back into a wheezing giggle fit that had him toppling against the arm of the couch.

Reki gave up on conversation, realizing his friend was way too far gone to even think about communicating at the moment. But he swore on his love for skating he’d hear Langa laugh like that again if it was the last thing he did.

*

A few weeks went by, during which time the novelty of the video simmered down and Langa stopped finding it nearly as hilarious, but still amusing. In the meantime, both Miya and Reki joined forces to try and find more videos that would make him laugh his guts out again.

When videos didn’t seem to be working, they moved to memes and funny pictures. When that didn’t get a huge reaction, they tried lame joke books, which failed even more since Langa didn’t know enough Japanese to understand why half of the jokes were funny. Miya was ready to give up the endeavor, but Reki wasn’t. He wanted to hear that loud laugh again. He wanted to record it on his phone and use it as a ringtone. He wanted to play it in the dead of night when he was feeling alone. He wanted to hear it all the time. Langa’s laugh was perfect. He wanted more of it.

Think, Reki! What’s a guaranteed way to make him laugh really hard like that? What haven’t we tried?

Then it hit him. At first he shook it off, but the more he considered it, the more it made sense. It was always the quiet ones you had to look out for, right? Reki beamed. He imagined Langa was probably super ticklish; so ticklish he’d squeal if you even poked him. The redhead had to admit, he desperately wanted to be right about this new thought of his. He decided the only way to know was to test it out.

So one evening when they were hanging out alone at the park where Langa had first learned to skate, Reki put his plan into action. He said, “You know, Miya and I have been trying to find other things that would make you laugh as hard as you did when you saw that Chewbacca video for the first time.”

“Oh,” Langa replied softly, nodding. “That explains all the random videos and pictures. And those really lame jokes.”

“You just laughed so hard at that.” Reki beamed at him. “We wanted to see if we could find something to make you do that again.”

“Was I laughing that hard? Huh. I didn’t really think about it, I guess.”

“So I decided that there’s probably only one way to really make you laugh like that again, since all of our masterful plans have fallen through thus far. We have one hope left.”

“Yeah? What is it?” Langa asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Reki smirked at him. “Tickling you.”

Langa’s eyes went wide. “What?”

“Tickling you! It’s so obvious. You are ticklish, aren’t you, Langa?”

The blue-haired boy suddenly turned pink in the cheeks. He was frozen to the spot, like a deer in headlights. “Um…I…I think so, but…”

“Great!” Reki lunged for him, pushing him onto his back and grabbing his arms, holding them out at his sides so he couldn’t fight back. “Then which spot makes you laugh the hardest? Where are you most ticklish?”

“Reki, please, I…I haven’t been tickled in a long time,” Langa said, his voice hushed and nervous. “I don’t know the answer to that.”

“Well, let’s find out!” Reki let go of his arms to dig his fingers into the taller boy’s sides. He grinned triumphantly when he got a snort and some giggling in return for his efforts. “You’re ticklish here, at least.”

“Reheheheki!” Langa whined, clamping his arms down when the redhead traveled up to his ribs and underarms, testing new spots in rapid succession. “Reki, plehehehehehease!”

“Let’s see…your sides are pretty ticklish, but your ribs don’t seem as bad. Your armpits are a good spot, though.” Reki dug in a little harder, enjoying the squeal that erupted from his usually soft-spoken friend. “Tickle, tickle!”

“Dohohohohon’t tehehehease me!”

“All right, all right, fine.” Reki chuckled, moving quickly back down his torso to his belly and hips, then even further to his thighs and knees. Langa squeaked and yelped and giggled at nearly every spot tested, but never did anything more than laugh softly. Though he seemed to be ticklish everywhere, he didn’t appear to be oversensitive in any particular place. Reki was a little disappointed, but honestly, he was just happy to have a way to make Langa smile.

The last spot Reki tried was his feet, which got the biggest reaction thus far. Langa shrieked and laughed, squirming and kicking in an attempt to break free from the torturous tickles, and Reki had a hard time keeping up with his flailing. Still, he kept at it for a few moments before returning to his upper body, pulling Langa’s shirt up to his chest, exposing his bare belly.

Langa sputtered a half-indignant, half-embarrassed, “W-What are you doing now?”

“Just one more test,” Reki promised. “Then I’ll let you go.” He squeezed Langa’s bare sides, then held each of his wrists to the ground as he took a huge breath and blew a raspberry right over his belly button.

To his surprise – and excitement – Langa absolutely screamed with laughter.

“NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA REHEHEHEHEHEKI!! WHAHAHAHAHAT ARE YOU DOHOHOHOHOHOING?!”

“Making you laugh, obviously!” Reki giggled. “Looks like I’ve hit the jackpot!” Then he blew another one, and instantly he was transported back to the moment he first heard his friend laugh so hard he cried, gasping for breath all the while. Only this time, he was also pleading for mercy.

“PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE NOHOHOHOHOHOHO!! NO MOHOHOHOHOHOHORE!! REHEHEHEHEHEKI, STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!” Langa begged through his hysterics, and when Reki looked up at him, he was pleased to see that his pink cheeks had turned red and tears were threatening to spill at any moment. Langa gulped in a huge breath of air. “P-P-Please, n-not raspberries, I c-c-can’t take them – please, Reki!”

Reki merely gripped his wrists tighter. He smiled. “One more. Then I’m done, I promise.”

Langa whimpered, but he was smiling wide. “Nohohoho, no…”

Reki made this one count. He took in the most air he could, then let it out as slowly as he could, drawing out the raspberry for as long as he could manage, reveling in Langa’s screaming, loving the sound of his helpless laughter.

Finally – as promised – the redhead let him go, gently pulling his shirt back down and rubbing his tummy gingerly. “Okay, I’m done. No more tickling for today.”

“T-Today?” Langa asked incredulously, groaning as he sat up, shoving Reki’s hand away playfully.

Reki beamed at him. “Well, I can’t promise I’ll never tickle you again. I’ll probably do it tomorrow, if I’m being honest. I just love your laugh, Langa. I want to hear it all the time.”

Langa blushed, averting his eyes. “It’s nothing special, Reki. I mean, it’s just a normal laugh.”

“It’s not normal. It’s better than normal.”

“Well…all right. But if you’re going to start tickling me, then you’d better watch your back.” The blue-haired boy winked at him. “I’m not above getting revenge.”

Reki felt his stomach turn excitedly at the words. He giggled before he could stop himself, then slapped his hand over his mouth.

“Oh? You think I’m joking?”

“No! I think you’re being perfectly serious.”

“I am.” Langa smirked, wiggling his fingers teasingly at his friend, watching him squeak and scramble away with amusement. He laughed again, on his own this time. “I’ll get you back for this, Reki. Just you wait!”

[em0avacado]

Only You

( Angel Reyes x Reader )

trigger warnings : none i think, guys being dudes, soft at the end. Language maybe.

word count : 2.1k ish

You were difficult to figure out, that was one thing you knew very well. You’d grown up around teenage boys all your life, being rough, chaotic and careless is all you knew. It’s who you were. Everyone knew that, but what no one knew? Was that you very, very capable of having a soft spot for someone. It was rare, when you were in highschool you swore to yourself there wouldn’t be another man you’d let close to your heart, and you were doing so well being, well, that bitch™, that when you met Angel Reyes, it threw you off, horribly so. You didn’t know how to handle it, you saw him, and you wanted to make sure he was taking care of himself, which, was likely that he wasn’t. It only got worse when you and him quickly became the best of friends. For some reason, when you started liking him a little more than the rest of your friends, you were lost, so unfamiliar with any emotions, having shut that out eons ago. Somehow, you’d worked it out in your head that you had to be more mean to him than the rest of them.

You had come home late from work one night, you were exhausted, and very much irritated when you heard rustling and noise behind your door. Nearly groaning, you shoved the key in your door and let yourself in, clearly, the boys had done the exact same who knows how long ago. You dropped your bag, and keys on the table before wandering into the very noisy living room where Angel, Ez, Coco, and Gilly were sat on your couch, feet up, beer in hands. Clearing your throat was what caught their attention, their cheers of excitement hurting your pounding head. They looked happy, and relaxed. You wouldn’t admit it but that was your favourite thing to see. Except, Angel. He didn’t look impressed.

“well look who decided to show up.” he said with an unimpressed tone, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Yeah, sorry I came home late to guests I didn’t invite over.” you muttered, pulling your coat off and setting it aside. “next time i’ll let the boss know I can’t take the last shift there might be a bunch of weird men in my home.”

“you sure it was just a late work shit? You not fucking your boss?” he asked with a hint of.. something? In his tone. Who the hell did this man think he was? Rolling your eyes once again, you didn’t have the patience to fight with Angel tonight, you’d said your boss was attractive once in response of him gushing over some girl at Vicky’s and he hasn’t let it go since.

“Why? You jealous?” you asked, and very quickly got a reaction, he got defensive.

“No.” he nearly spat “why would I be jealous of your boss?” his arms crossed over his chest. The rest of them watched with wide eyes. Except Coco, who was too invested in Tiger King.

“Because you want to fuck me.” you said blatantly, he, and Gilly, choked on their beers as Angel quickly tried to regain himself.

“I do not!” he protested, coughing and wiping at his face.

“mhm.” you hummed, pushing off your boots and heading off to the back, wanting to just have a shower before getting comfortable for the night, hoping to forget, even for just a moment, that there was a bunch of home invaders in your living room. Just as you were shutting your bedroom door, you heard mumbles and a then very clear conversation.

“You wanna fuck [Y/N]?” Gilly asked Angel, Ez could only laugh, he knew his brother, he knew he did.

“no.” grumbled Angel.

“Isn’t that kind of gay?” asked Coco. “I mean - she’s one of us, she’s literally beat you up, she’s a bro. That’d be like fucking me.” You snorted at that, of course he’d say that shit. Always. “Isn’t she.. a lesbian?”

Next you heard “Oh shit I thought she was too.” from Gilly.

“She’s not a lesbian! She thinks Bucky Barns is hot, she’s said she wants him to crush her head with that metal arm of his.” Said Ez, you heard Angel huff like a child.

Great, you thought to yourself, now you have a living room full of idiots trying to figure out your sexuality. You grabbed a towel, rolling your eyes at your friends, and went for your shower. Washing away the days stress, replacing the stench of oil and hard work with your signature cucumber, aloe vera scent. You settled on a thick sweater and plaid pj shorts before heading back into the living room where you expected to see the rest of your friends, now more ready to deal with them until you went to bed, but when you saw no one, you grabbed a water and headed to sleep.

The next few days were an endless series of hectic, and tiresome hours put into work, every day something went wrong. You hadn’t been so close to having a total breakdown in forever, but the weight on your shoulders felt so heavy. You couldn’t wait to go home, you had the next two days off and you couldn’t wait but dream of catching dreams and nothing but that. But when you got to your door, it was unlocked. Pulling the gun from your waist, you cocked it and raised it as you entered, only to find Angel at your table with his head in his hands. Setting down your things, you locked the door behind you and shed your work clothes.

This was a routine whenever either one of you had a particularly hard day, you turned to one another, despite the endless banter, you two easily fell into being each other’s safe haven. You deemed it to be because you understood each other, like best friends did, it worked. At some point, though, you’d began to fall for Angel and you had no idea how to deal with it.

“am I okay to shower?” you asked softly, crouching down beside where he sat, running a gentle hand over his head. He aches for your affections, even the slightest of your touches calmed the man, but he knew that you had to be the one to instigate it. You hated physical contact, it was rare you trusted, let alone liked someone enough to let them touch you. You were picky with it. Angel respected that, though he did sometimes want to just pull you into a hug when his world was spinning, yet he didn’t. You saw it in the way that he involuntarily followed your hand that it was a hard day for him, when he nodded, you gently squeezed his shoulder. “okay, take off your kutte and boots and go lay in bed, i’ll be there after, okay?” when he nodded again and began to move, you headed off to the bathroom quickly to rinse off.

Not all that long after, you’d met him in your room, like you promised. You wore pj shorts, and a tank, he was in his wife beater and boxers. You climbed in, and lifted the comforter wordlessly, inviting him in. He quickly settled against you, his face laid against your chest. You trailed your fingers over his back, drawing soft shapes on his skin a mark that didn’t stain much more than his mind. You both laid in a comfortable silence, his hands were secured at his sides, eventually yours sat in his hair, playing with the short strands as he listened to your heart beat. He never thought he’d be more thankful for someone else’s beating heart.

“Do you like Bucky Barnes more than you like me?” he asked, breaking the silence after a while. You furrowed your brows slightly and looked at him. You saw his glassy brown eyes staring right back at you. Your heart melting at the sight.

“Angel, Bucky is a fictional character.” you answered simply.

“So you do.” he said in disappointment, sighing. Jealousy hung heavy over his head, perhaps it wasn’t just that, perhaps he had an exceedingly difficult day. When he started pulling away from you, you wrapped your arms around his head and pulled him in, the gesture was.. sweeter and much more gentle in your head, but everyone knew you weren’t the most graceful, so you accidentally jabbed him not only in the eye, but also picked his nose for him. Dismissing the fact that you did that, you took his face in your hands and had him look to you.

“Bucky Barnes has nothing on you.” you said, doing your best to sound reassuring.

“What about his arm?” he asked, puppy eyes on full display. This man will be the end of you.

“I’d let you run over my head with your bike.” you told him, trialing your thumbs over his cheeks. Something inside you told you that there was a fine line between platonic and romantic, and that you’ve both bolted passed that line ages ago, in private, at least.

“you really mean that?” he asked yet another question, you knew you were playing into his ego but you could only give in to him.

“i do.” you said, yawning. He wrapped his arms around you again, and settled back down. Shutting his eyes. You had a few minutes at best before you were out, and Angel knew that once you started yawning, it only took a little while till you were out.

But the next morning, when you slowly started to come back to the world of the living, you heard Angel mumbled something into the phone. Being the nosy son of a bitch you were, you listened in. “I don’t know, man. All I know is that if I don’t leave now, I don’t think I ever will. She doesn’t see me the way I see her, I can’t force this on her, I’ll lose her for good and I’d rather have her as a friend, but I can’t lose her. On god little brother I can’t.” he mumbled, and you felt your chest heat up. He was talking about you. To Ez. Shutting your eyes again for a moment, you took a deep breath and climbed out as you heard him rustling around. You grabbed one of the blankets, surrounding yourself with it to try to warm back up after your toes were kissed by the cold. You headed out of the room, your toes padding against the hard wood floor. You’d caught him in the middle of opening the door, and talking to Ez still.

“Please don’t leave.” You said, your voice soft, almost timid. Angel turned around, looking at you all wide eyed.

“Wh - huh?” he looked at you dumbfounded.

“Come back to bed, I’m cold.” you said, clutching the blanket tighter.

“[Y/N], I - I have to go.” he responded, fumbling with the phone in his hand as Ezekiel yelled at him to get his head out of his ass on the line.

“You’re an idiot.” You quickly shuffled closer to him, letting go of your grasp on the blanket, you reached up, cupping his face in your hands and you lead him closer to you. Looking into his eyes, you felt his hot breath brush against your face, taking a second to really look at him before connecting your lips to his in a soft kiss. This was definitely crossing the friendship line, but he was intoxicating. “Don’t leave now. Don’t leave ever.” you said when your lips parted for air. Your eyes on him, all you heard was his heavy breathing, and the cheering on the other end of the phone.

The sight of you right then and there let Angels heart melt into puddle, he hadn’t seen it before but you looked at him like he was the world, and he was, he was your world, even though you’ve quite literally sucker punched him in the stomach for taking your last cheese bun.

“So she’s not a lesbian right?” you heard Coco ask everyone.

“Coco I’m gonna beat your fucking ass.” you said, grabbing the phone before hanging up. “but first imma eat yours.” you tried to say in a serious voice, but the moment Angels face twisted in disgust, you lost it.

“Way to ruin the moment.” he groaned.

“You want me to bring the moment back?” you asked, raising a brow at him when he nodded. You reached up, brushing back his hair, taming the bed head ever so slightly, you brought your hands down to his beard, scraping your nails gently against it as you brought your lips back to his. “give me another kiss then, baby.” your voice drawled out softly, meeting his lips in a soft, yet passionate kiss.

Taking his hand after a few moments, you pulled him back to the bedroom, he was completely caught in a trance. So, as you walked, you set his phone aside, you pushed off his kutte and tossed it on the couch, you unbuttoned his flannel and tossed it on a close by chair. “Are you trying to fuck me?” he asked, bewildered.

“No, not right now.” you chuckled softly. “I want to lay with you, I want your warmth, and your smiles, and your laughter when I tell you some stupid joke, I want your arms around me. I want to hold you. Only you. Let me feel safe in your arms because I don’t anywhere else.” you admitted, pulling him into you. He looked like a lost puppy as you spoke, but then he fully dove into you, not wanting to look back.

“and after our nap? I’m making waffles.” you said in your donkey impression, making Angel roll his eyes. “Angel baby.. When we fuck I’m gonna moan like I think Donkey does when he and that dragon fuck, okay?” you ask, entirely serious.

“oh god please no.” he laughs, hiding his face in your chest.

Tag List :

@mayans-sauce

@queenbeered

@lilacyennefer

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Chapter Nine: Sleep Peacefully

(Image not mine)

Rated: PG

~What story should I tell? Will it end happy, will it turn out well? What dreams do I own? Can I call any place my home?

And I rock myself to sleep, and I tell myself "don't get caught too deep" 'Cause I know by now, you're here for me.

And I tell myself "move along" and I tell myself "you were all wrong" But I know by now, wrong was right for me.

I'll sleep peacefully~

The black paved road of the near-empty highway stretched out in front of us, a stark contrast to the piles of glittering snow that the snowplows had pushed off the street. We had been on the road for 9 hours and were now somewhere in Iowa. The area we were now driving through was so much brighter than Copper Harbor ever was. There wasn't so much as a cloud to be seen in the sky. The last few orange rays of light from the setting sun sprinkled across the landscape as it dipped below the horizon, glittering and reflecting off hills blanketed in white. The sight almost hurt my eyes. It was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. Whipping out my phone I snapped as many pictures as I possibly could, though I knew they would never do justice to the spectacular view.

The sun sank lower and lower and eventually vanished beneath the horizon. Then the stars came out. Scattered across the black velvet sky, they were so numerous it seemed impossible. I could see the differences in colors and size, and I could trace the shape of the Milky-Way. There were no trees or streetlamps lining the Iowa highway and it felt as if I was swimming through inky blackness, like I was swimming between the stars. The glittering lights were so bright and so close. It was special sort of magical.

I rested my elbows on my knees and my head between my hands and stared out the windshield at the beautiful black expanse. On my right, Castiel copied my position.

"Jack tells me you like the stars," he said. Upon hearing his name, Jack briefly looked to me and smiled before turning his gaze back to the window. I had been drifting in and out of conversation with various partners throughout the car ride.

"I do, I love them," I kept my voice soft and my answer simple, "I've never seen so many at once before. I don't think I'll ever get used to it." Castiel smiled softly.

"You know, I am several billion years old, and I am still baffled by the magnificence of this universe. Sights like this, they never get old." I turned my head away from the bright lights in the sky to look at the angel beside me.

"Have you been up there?"

He nodded.

"Yes, I have."

"What's it like?"

Castiel sighed in a melancholy sort of way. I could see the reflection of all those stars gleaming in his eyes.

"It's more beautiful than you can imagine."

I nodded and gazed back out at view of the heavens.

"I wish I could live up there."

Castiel chuckled.

"Someday you might. Who knows what will happen?" He said.

"Yeah."

"However," he added, "As for right now, I think you need to get some rest."

"Nah, sleep is for the weak." At that moment I yawned, emphasizing my point. Dean glanced at me in the rear-view mirror.

"We can pull off and stop at a motel overnight if you need some sleep," He offered. I shook my head and tried to blink away my sleepiness.

"Don't stop on my account! I can sleep in the car," I insisted.

"You sure?" Dean asked. I gave him a thumbs up.

"Oh yeah. I actually sleep better in cars, if you can believe it. Something about the noise and the motion puts me to sleep like a baby, I'm all good." For once I told the truth. I really did sleep better in cars.

"Okay, as long as you're comfy, we've got about eight more hours till' we get there." Dean turned down the volume on whatever album we'd been listening to all day. I'd never been a fan of rock music, but some of Dean's songs weren't that bad.

"We'll try to be quiet for you, Marty," Sam said. I yawned again and rubbed my eyes.

"Thanks guys, for everything. Honestly, I can't even remember the last time I had a good night's sleep."

"You're welcome, kid. This is what we do. Now shut your eyes." Dean mock commanded. I rolled them instead and turned to Jack.

"Jack?" I said to get his attention.

"Hm?"

"What are your feelings on being used as a pillow?" Jack's face was painted with all shades of confusion.

"I-I don't, um, I-" He tried to answer but I cut him off with a wave of my hand.

"I'm just kidding," I explained. "You don't have a choice in the matter!"

I grabbed his arm and tugged it around my shoulders so I could lay my head on his chest. Jack's entire body stiffened, and he looked to Cas with an expression that said 'Help me, she's doing something weird. Tell me what to do'. Castiel merely shrugged and in the front seat Dean snorted. I chuckled and waited for Jack to shift around a bit and get comfortable before I closed my eyes.

"You're a comfy pillow," I remarked.

"Um, thank you?"

I couldn't see his face, but Jack sounded extremely confused. I decided then that I needed something to hold on to. It took me a few moments to feel around for his arm but when I found it, I gripped his hand and held it up.

"This is mine now."

Wrapping his arm around my waist, I tangled our fingers together and smirked when I felt Jack chuckle and wrap his other arm around me in a way that was friendly and natural.

"If this keeps up, I think we're gonna have to have a talk with Jack about a thing or two." I heard Dean whisper to Sam.

"I heard that."

"Shut up, Mcfly. You're supposed to be sleeping." He scolded, teasingly. I kept my eyes closed but stuck out my tongue at him. I smiled when I heard him laugh.

"Goodnight, guys."

"Goodnight." Dean, Sam and Cas chimed together.

"Sweet dreams, Marty," Jack whispered.

With that, I let myself slowly drift into oblivion's velvet embrace.

***

"Is she asleep, yet?" Dean asked in a whisper, peering in the mirror at the sleeping girl.

"Um, I'm not sure." Jack craned his neck in an effort to find out, but he just couldn't tell.

"I'm trying, Mom," Marty mumbled into Jack's chest. That made him grin.

"From that I'd say, she's close."

"I'm not your mom, Marty," Dean sighed.

"Sorry, dad." She murmured. Dean just shrugged.

"Well, that's a little closer I guess," He said, his lips twitching with a tiny smile.

"Say, Jack, when's the last time you slept?" Sam asked, turning in his seat to face Jack who's face scrunched up as he thought about his answer.

"Four days ago, I think." He replied. Now that he thought about it, Jack realized just how tired he was.

"Dude. Sleep. Now." Dean ordered. Jack blinked a few times and yawned.

"No, I can wait." He yawned again.

"Jack..." Cas pressed.

"I can't go to sleep yet," Jack insisted.

"Why not? Marty back there did it just fine," Dean said.

"Gimmie back my socks, Biden," Marty mumbled.

"See? Out like a flickering lightbulb." Dean joked.

"No, you don't get it. I can't go to sleep, she's right here. She'd think I'm weird or something." Jack worried.

"Well, you're not exactly normal, Jack." Cas muttered under his breath.

"Look, she's the one sleeping on you kid." Dean paused, glancing at the others in the car. "That came out wrong. The point is, she clearly doesn't know the meaning of personal space. Just go for it." He finished, refocusing on the road.

"What do you mean?" Jack asked. Dean's eyeroll was nearly audible.

"Go to sleep, Jack. She ain't gonna care."

Jack nodded.

Snow began to fall on the roof of the Impala with a tip, tip, tipping noise as Jack rested his head atop Marty's. Her hair was soft under his cheek and he matched his breathing with the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

"I love that sound," She sighed, in her half-asleep stupor. Jack guessed she was referring to the sound of the falling snow.

"Me too," he whispered, closing his eyes and drifting off to the same place as the girl beside him.

***

"Jack."

...

"Jack!"

...

"You have got to be kidding me... JACK!"

Jack woke with a start. Blinking rapidly, he attempted to make sense of the world around him. Confusion washed over him as he could have sworn, he had fallen asleep in the Impala next to Marty. But he wasn't there anymore. In fact, he wasn't sure where he was.

Everything was white. The walls, the ceiling, the floor. Well, actually this place didn’t really seem to have walls or a ceiling or a floor. It was all just white, stretching off forever. Behind Jack somebody coughed.

"Behind you," They said, sounding rather annoyed.

Jack turned around slowly and cautiously. Standing in front of him now stood Marty. Her tiny hands on her slim hips and her face twisting into a frown that was somehow amused and annoyed at the same time. She raised her eyebrows at him, and her foot tapped rapidly on whatever surface it was that they seemed to be standing on.

"Heya, Jack." Marty smirked.

Jack's eyes shifted nervously left and right. His hand reached up on its own accord to rub at the knot he felt in his chest. He got the distinct impression that something here wasn't right. He planned to figure out what was going on as soon as he could determine where exactly 'here' was.

"Don't worry Jack, it’s just us. Or, I should say, it’s just you," Marty said, clarifying and confusing things for Jack at the same time. Jack shifted his gaze back to the girl in front of him.

"Where are we?" He asked, his brows drawing together. Marty smiled at him pleasantly.

"We're inside your head!" She answered.

"What?" Jack wondered how she could answer his question while giving him so many more at the same time. She giggled a bit at his confused expression. Spreading her arms like wings, she spun in a circle.

"Look around, Jack! It’s so big! You should be proud!" She stopped spinning to grin at him. The line between Jack's eyebrows and his confusion were deepening quickly. Marty tapped her chin and looked upward with a smirk, as if thinking about something. "But we really should both be proud." She mused.

"Marty, what's going on? Are you okay?" Jack took a step towards the girl reaching his hand out. Marty flicked her eyes up and down between him and his outstretched hand, her expression darkened. She held up her hands in a defensive gesture as she took a few sauntering steps back.

"First of all, I'm not Marty," She stated, evenly. Jack's position instantly switched from inviting to aggressive. He bent his knees and widened his stance, shifting his weight onto the balls of his feet, readying himself for a fight.

"Who are you?! Where is she?! What did you do to her?!" He demanded. His eyes pulsed with an orange light as he prepared to use his powers. The person in front of him, who apparently wasn't Marty, put a hand on her chest, gasping with obvious mockery.

"You wound me, Jack! You're not even going to ask who I am? I thought we were better friends than this." She closed her eyes and shook her head, sighing in an obnoxious and sarcastic way. Jack wasn't having any of this thing's games. He clenched his teeth and raised his hand threateningly.

"Where's Marty?" He growled, trying his best to imitate Sam, Dean, or Cas when they were in similar positions. The not-Marty just rolled her eyes, like she was bored.

"Yeah, no. We ain't doing that in here." She frowned, waving her hand simply. Jack scowled and tried to blast her back with his power, but he abruptly realized that he couldn't. Nothing was happening. She had taken his powers away. His eyes snapped open wide and he stared at his hand. Now he was the one taking a few steps back.

"W-what? I-" Jack stuttered. The not-Marty crossed her arms and leaned back on her heels, taking on a much more relaxed position.

"I think we got off on the wrong foot here, Jack. Can we start over?" She tilted her head and smiled pleasantly at him before sitting cross-legged on the ground. Jack nodded at her with a distrusting expression but hesitantly copied her position.

"Thank you, Jack. I'm sorry about the attitude earlier, it's just that, with this form you gave me, her personality and came with it and then there was your expectations and perception to deal with, so I had to battle through that. I'm very sorry, but I think we're all good now."

Jack was struck by just how pretty the pleasant smile on her face was and had to remind himself that it wasn't really Marty.

"What do you mean? Who are you?" He asked, expecting another vague and confusing answer. The girl giggled, her laugh sounded exactly like Marty's bubbling, wind chime laugh.

"I'm you, Jack!" She replied, brightly.

"No, you're not- you can't- how can you be me? I don't understand," Jack shook his head, bewildered. The girl giggled again.

"I'm not you you, of course. I'm your conscience! Or your sub-conscious or whatever, really." Jack didn't know what to say. Not-Marty leaned forward as if to tell him a secret. "Ya remember what I said about us being inside your head?" She reminded him.

"So, this is a dream?" He asked. She nodded.

"You could call it that, yes. So, you don't have to worry about Marty. When you wake up, she'll be right were you left her, safe, sound, and all cuddled up in your arms." She wrapped her arms around herself, jokingly. Jack nodded, sighing with relief, now he could figure out the rest of this weirdness.

"If you're my conscience, why do you look like Marty?" Was his next question. The girl claiming to be his conscience shrugged.

"You were thinking about her when you fell asleep. It's that simple." Jack nodded slowly.

"This is confusing," he stated. The girl just nodded.

"It is. Let's make it a little less confusing, shall we?" She stretched her hand out for him to shake, "I'm not Marty so how bout' you call me Cricket?"

"Why Cricket?"

"Like Jiminy Cricket! From Pinocchio!" She cheered. Jack took her hand and shook it firmly, still not completely sure he trusted all she was saying.

"Hello Cricket, it's nice to meet you?" He said, more as a question than a statement.

"It's nice to meet you too, Jack!" Cricket giggled for a moment before sobering up in a snap, "But we need to have a talk," She said, her voice grave.

"About what?" Asked Jack, carefully. Cricket chuckled at his apprehensive tone.

"Relax kiddo, it's not like I'm mad at you!" She reassured him.

"Then why am I here? What do we need to talk about?" Cricket frowned; her expression dark.

"We need to talk about Marty," She said. Jack narrowed his eyes.

"What about Marty?"

"There's something off about that girl, but I don't know what it is," Cricket answered.

"Why not?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Well, if you don't know, then I don't know, and we don't know!" She he exclaimed.

"Oh."

"But I'm telling you, all five-foot-two of this," Cricket gestured at Marty's body, "Isn't what it seems." Jack frowned.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying, Martina is dangerous," Cricket deadpanned.

"No! She's my friend! She's not dangerous!" Jack protested. Cricket raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Really? How much do you actually know about her? You don't even know her full name," She pointed out, her voice harsh. "She's keeping secrets, Jack."

"No."

"Don't make me the villain here, Jack. You're making me the villain, I'm not!"

"Stop! Get out of my head!" Jack shouted.

"Jack, listen to me. I'm you and I'm trying to protect us!" Jack scrambled to his feet, shaking his head.

"I don't believe you!" The girl in front of him stood too.

"If you won't listen to me, then maybe you'll listen to mom." Then Marty was gone. Standing in her place was Kelly Kline.

"Mom?" Jack whispered he couldn't stop himself inching forward. Kelly opened her arms.

"Jack! Please listen to me, you can't trust that girl. I know she's your friend, but you need to look-" Jack cut her off.

"You're not real!" He said, backing away. In an instant, Kelly was gone, and Cricket came back.

"Fine, suit yourself." Cricket's glared was ferocious and her voice was cruel. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

Jack blinked and when he opened his eyes, Cricket was gone.

***

"We should probably wake em' up," Sam whispered as the Impala rounded the turn off on the dirt road that led to the bunker.

"Wait! Cas, do me a favor," Dean said passing his phone to the angel in the back seat, "take a picture of those two." Jack and Marty were still fast asleep. The only thing that had changed in eight hours on the road was that Marty had grabbed a hand full of Jack's shirt. Taking the phone from Dean's hand, Cas snapped three pictures of the sleeping duo.

"Here." He passed the phone back to Dean who took his eyes off the road to observe the pictures.

"Awesome." Dean grinned. "These are going in the black-mail folder."

"In the what?" Sam asked.

"The black-mail folder, Sammy. You don't have one?"

"Uh, no."

"Your loss," Dean shrugged, turning his attention back to driving. The car was quiet for a few minutes.

"So, what's in the black-mail folder?" Sam asked after a bit. Dean smirked at his brother.

"You'll find out," He said, ominously, "Next time I want something, you'll find out."

Sam decided in that moment that he did not want to find out what was in Dean's black mail folder. As the bunker came into view, Castiel reached over and shook the shoulders of the sleeping pair next to him.

"Jack, Marty, we're here," Cas urged, gently. Jack eye's opened and he blinked the tiredness from them, his neck was stiff, so he stretched it out. Marty, however, did not wake nearly as easily.

"Martina." Cas shook her shoulder again.

"Hmm?"

"Wake up."

"Five more minutes." She murmured. Jack chuckled at her antics.

"Marty, wake up. We're home." Marty's big grey eyes fluttered open and she turned her head to look up at Jack.

"Home?" She sighed.

"Yeah, home," Jack said. Marty sat up and yawned, stretching her arms and rubbing her eyes.

"Home sounds pretty good."

~What story should I tell? Will it end happy? Will it turn out well? What dreams do I own? Can I call any place my home?

And I rock myself to sleep And I tell myself "Don't fall to deep" Cause I know by now You're not comin' for me

And I tell myself "Move along" And I tell myself "You were all wrong" But I know by now Wrong was right for me

I'll sleep peacefully~

Lyrics from: Sleep Peacefully by Lilly Kershaw

[anika-ann]

Of Muffins, Coffee and Other Miracles - Pt.1

Of Muffins, Cheeky Vigilantes and Sad Interns

Pairing: Matt Murdock x reader        Word count: 3130 

Type: Two-shot, reader insert

Warnings: swearing, mention of attempted assault, tons of fluff and cheeky/cute Daredevil

Summary: You’re a secretary at Landman and Zack, having an office on the same floor as the interns. You notice one of them (which you might and might not have a crush on) seems down lately, so you decide to cheer him up the only way you can come up with. You bake muffins; right after your life is saved by a cheeky vigilante.  

You stared at the two unconscious men at his feet, still perfectly shocked but relieved, pressing your handbag to your chest.

You were slowly leaving your place by the wall – more like in the wall, because you had been trying to merge with it even since the two men had backed you into it, pulling out their knives and demanding your handbag. That had been before this guy had appeared and put them in a line – and you were pretty sure he put some of their bones out of their natural line, but you couldn’t find yourself to care.

“You… thank you. How— you… saved my life,” you stuttered, watching the man in a black mask wince as if he only now realized you were there.

“You’re welcome,” he said, voice pleasantly low-pitched, looking in your direction. “Though I’m not sure it would go that far if you have just given him your handbag.”

“Well, I couldn’t do that,” you retorted, automatically drawing the item closer to your chest.

He took two cautious steps to you, easing his fighting stance. “I know it would be a lot of paperwork and bureaucracy, but for future reference, it would be much better if you just gave it up.”

“I couldn’t. There’s a… there’s a secret recipe.”

“… a recipe. You… couldn’t have let go of your handbag because of a recipe. You’re joking,” he stated, and the little of his face you could see, free of the fabric of his mask, seemed shocked. And maybe a little amused. How would you know, you could only see his jaw. And lips – their corners were quirked inconspicuously, so yeah, definitely amused.

Well, at least you made him smile since he had saved you and all.

“It’s important! There’s this guy in my work and— never mind. Forget I said anything. I mean… beside the thank you. Wow, babbling is not my usual reaction to stress.”

“Well, if that makes you feel better I don’t usually chat with people I help out,” he said with a shrug, making you raise your eyebrows.

“So why do you now?” Not that I complain.

He shrugged again, coming a little closer again. “Nowhere to be. And you seem fun.”

Huh. Who would think a guy in a mask, lurking in a dark, would be such a nice person? He seemed genuine. You had no idea where he picked up the idea of you being fun, but you guessed he didn’t meet women protecting their handbags for recipes of all thing every night. Did he do that every night? Was that a thing?

You shook off the thoughts. “…thanks, I guess?”

“So, guy at work?” He smiled suggestively, clearly teasing you. You just gaped.

“Oh my god, I’m not talking about that with… with a masked guy! And… and it’s not like that,” you protested, questioning your own claim. Maybe?

“Really? So why that blush?”

You quickly checked you cheeks with your hand. “I don’t-“ You never blushed. You doubted you were now and your cheeks felt just normal-- that little shit. “You know, for a guy who lurks in a dark, you are sure pretty cocky.”

And for a near assault victim, I am pretty chatty and easy-going.

“People also say I’m a good listener,” he offered nonchalantly, a gentle smile on his lips.

You were not doing this, right? You wouldn’t just load that on a complete stranger? Then again, he was a complete stranger, so he couldn’t tell anyone who knew you. Mmm...

“…it’s not like that. I mean, yeah, he’s… handsome, but-- he’s… I barely know him, but he’s just really nice, you know? Like…” You licked your lips, finally letting the handbag rest on its usual place. “The kind of guy who would help you to pick up your stuff, even if he wasn’t be the one who ran into you. And the other day, I saw his telling a joke to someone who seemed down, but usually is a bitch to him. He’s the guy who would hold the elevator for you. Just… really nice. And lately… he seemed down himself. Not even his friend can cheer him up. So… yeah.”

“So… you decided to… cook something for him. For this… nice guy,” he summed up your monologue, looking a bit confused.

“Yeah. My friend met me at the bar and gave up her secret recipe for the best muffins in the world. I already bought the ingredients, guessing, but I didn’t pick up on the vanilla beans.”¨

“That’s really nice of you.”

“Well, it’s not like I’m saving his life,” you said, giving him a significant look.

Why were you smiling? You just almost got mugged! And you were chatting with a man who just broke someone’s bones! To be fair, he was really likeable. Had called you fun and nice. Not something you were used to.

“He could be depressed. So maybe you are.”

You couldn’t but smile wider. “Maybe. Though he probably gets bagels every morning… never mind. …And you know what, you are a good listener. But I should go. Got work to do.”

“Sure. Good luck with your… baking,” he wished you, grinning like a goddamn child. Was it really so amusing?

“If I have some spares, I’ll leave them on the rooftop for you,” you decided, freezing after you realized what you said. “A random rooftop! I wouldn’t want a masked guy to know where I live.”

He laughed. He honest to god laughed. “Of course. Go, I’ll call the police to pick those guys up.”

You didn’t need to be asked twice.

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

You barely managed to sneak into the interns’ office – office? More like a closet – and make it out before they appeared behind a corner. These two guys started there recently, but you instantly liked them. The one with blond hair was smiling most of the time, a cheery smile that made you smile back even when you were busy and nearly harassed by your boss a minute before; the other one, the dark-haired one, had a gentler smile, a warming one – and you hadn’t seen much of it lately. If you were honest, you thought his idealism was being crushed; he was incredibly nice and polite to everyone as far as you saw him interact with people and you were sure that a firm like Landman and Zack wasn’t a place for his fragile soul-- and now you were just projecting.

The pair fell into their closet office and you released the breath you were holding. You resisted the urge to listen in with your ear at the door. It turned out, you didn’t have to; most of the offices were empty due to the lunch break and the blond man – okay, yeah, you heard him introduce himself as Foggy, which was ridiculous, but kinda cute – was very loud.

“Matt, a muffin.”

You bit your lip, a little nervous about not hearing Matt’s reaction.

“Matt, I swear to God, there is a muffin on your table. With a note on a toothpick in it and it says— oh. That’s just mean. Why would someone give a muffin on your desk only to tempt you?” Foggy sounded bewildered and a little hurt on the behalf of his friend.

You giggled into your palm. You had left a written note saying: ‘Don’t you dare to touch it, you, who are reading this.’

The trick was in leaving one more note – in braille. ‘Feel better and be happy. The offices are too dark without your smile. Enjoy.’

Which was an idiotic lie, because the offices were all glass and steel, having too much light most of the time, but the message was clear, you hoped. Not to mention Matt wouldn’t be able to tell. Because he was… well, blind. Which meant he couldn’t read the note not directed at him, but could read his own.

You sneaked from your office, coming a little closer, listening in.

“Dude, your face. Why do I have the feeling the braille version says something different?”

You smiled for yourself, hoping to cause at least a little rise of Matt’s lips while he was reading his personal note (it was a bitch to use the braille printer without no one noticing, okay, you were kinda proud of yourself). His response was quieter, but you pricked your ears and heard it.

“Because it does.”

Later, you were trying hard not to stare too blatantly when they passed your office, but you caught a glimpse anyway. Matt was smiling. Brightly.

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

“This is so stupid, I’m crazy, I’m the craziest person to ever walk this Earth…” you were muttering as you laid a plate with two muffins in the middle of the rooftop. “If anyone’s gonna eat it, it’s gonna be Frank from 2B when coming to have a smoke. Or pigeons…”

“Did the nice guy liked his muffin?” sounded a voice from behind you and you jumped ten feet above— well, not. You literally fell on your ass, yelping in shock, your hand trying to keep your heart inside your ribcage. “Hey, easy there.”

You spun slowly to the source of the pleasant male voice, only to find a man dressed in nothing but black. With a mask on, naturally.

“Not sure. Maybe I just helped him to have a heart attack sooner. But I can ask him if he’s looking for one and refer him to you,” you complained, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, easing your hand down.

Jesus.

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He offered you a gloved hand to help you up. But it was a warm night and forgetting the fact your pants would be no doubt terribly dirty from the concrete, you were actually fine sitting there. You patted on the other side of the plate instead. He hesitated.

“For some reason I don’t believe you,” you exclaimed darkly. “I’m not sure you deserve these…”

“They’re really for me?”

A shy smile appeared on his lips – you really needed to stop focusing on people’s lips, it was creepy, but to be fair, this guy wasn’t offering many things to go on and staring at his body tightly wrapped in black probably wasn’t much better. He lowered himself elegantly, sitting down on the offered place.

“I figured that you might appreciate it and you’ll burn the calories easily. And since I baked six of these…”

“Thanks.” He tentatively took off his gloves, reaching for one of the muffins. He took a bite.

You blinked in surprise at his trust. “They could be poisoned.”

He froze. “You wouldn’t.”

“How can you possibly know that?”

“No one who bakes a muffin just to cheer up a guy they barely know would try to poison me,” he reasoned, his confidence almost unshaken.

“I could have just made the story up. Or bake two batches, poison one of them and lay a trap.”

He frowned, taking another bite easily. “That sounds like an awfully lot of work, considering pigeons might have eaten this. Or Frank from 2B.”

“You— you heard that?” you asked, surprised.

“I have good ears. And taste buds. This is really good.”

“I’m glad. Maybe one day I can quit my soul-crushing job, steal all of my friend’s recipes and open a bakery. The Hell’s Bakery… in Hell’s Kitchen.”

He chuckled, the sound so light that it made you wonder how the hell this guy was a vigilante. Should he be like… dark and broody? I am batman, I’m the night?

“I would be a regular. I promise.”

You couldn’t help but smile as he finished the muffin and licked his thumb.

“He’s a lucky guy, you know. Having you to look out for him,” he offered casually.

“I told you, it’s not like that…” you repeated, though you were less and less convinced it was the truth. “…and he doesn’t know it was me.”

“You didn’t give it to him?” he sounded shocked. You thought he might have raised his eyebrows. “Just leaving it? Why?”

You shrugged. “I didn’t want him to feel… obligated to be grateful or something. Plus, me noticing he’s smiling less than usual? It’s a little creepy, I imagine. It’s better if I stay anonymous.”

“Huh. You really weren’t trying to… get his attention, were you?” He seemed genuinely surprised. Was it really that strange? “Why? Not your type? Have eyes on someone else?”

“Not my type…” you repeated lowly. “I think he’s everybody’s type.” He tilted his head curiously. “I don’t.”

“But?”

“But nothing. He’s… he’s him. I bet he has someone. He has this whole…” you gestured vaguely with your hands as if it could mean something. It did. To you. “…charming, take-me-home aura.”

“Take-me-home aura?” he parroted, bewildered.

“It’s hard to-“ you stopped in the middle of the sentence, realizing the absurdity of the situation. Muffins. Late night. Dim lights. Boy problems. “Oh god, I’m having a slumber party with a vigilante on a rooftop. I really am crazy.”

“Do you want to braid hair?” he suggested with that boyish grin you remembered from yesterday. “I’m no good at painting nails, but I rock at braiding.”

You looked at him incredulously, watching him for what could be a minute. Then you burst out laughing.

“I believe you. But I’m afraid I’ll have to decline. I’m very picky about who I let touch my hair.”

“Uh-huh Okay. What does take-me-home aura mean? Take home and..?”

“And snuggle him…” you hummed, thoughtful. “Or rip his clothes off, sometimes it’s hard to decide. Probably both in the right order.”

“Oh.”

You burst out laughing once more when seeing him so taken aback. Well, you thought he looked taken aback.

“Oh god, you look so spooked. I’m not gonna do that to you, or him. Have a muffin.”

He pouted, but relaxed and reached for his comfort food. “I’m not… spooked. It’s just… why don’t you?”

“Because I’m pretty sure dragging someone into my home and ripping their clothes off is a crime,” you emphasized, even though the irony was lost on this guy, since he was acting outside the law. Matt, on the other hand… was a lawyer.

“You could just ask him out.”

The smile froze on your lips. You cleared your throat. “Yeah, right. I forgot you don’t know me very well and you don’t know whom I’m talking about. He’s… like… waaaay out of my league. Professionally speaking – one day, I’m sure – and with his looks too.”

He nibbled his muffin, looking thoughtful. It was incredibly cute. “You said he was nice. I’m sure he wouldn’t turn you down.”

“A pity date. Yay for me.”

“…you don’t have very high opinion of yourself, do you?”

You shrugged. “I’m a realist.”

He set his muffin down, turning to you with his whole body. “I don’t have many references to your looks, since we’re meeting at night, but you seem like a great person and… I really don’t talk with people much. Not at all, if I can help it. But you’re easy to talk too. Even if it was a pity date, I’m sure he would have a good time. And maybe you would find out he’s just a guy and forget there are some… leagues or whatever,” he mimicked, sounding a little disgusted. He picked his muffin back, possibly to drown the bitterness of the word league.

Oh my god, how was this guy even real? There was no way he was not chatting with all victims of crime he saved.

“Thanks— what do I call you? Give me something. I don’t expect your real name, secret identities and all, but… something.”

“Huh. I don’t know. Uhm…”

“If you don’t come up with something, I will,” you threatened, your mind racing. He would either have a terrible name, compensating with a nickname, or a plain name no one would look twice at.

“Go for it,” he challenged, licking the remains of chocolate of his lips. You observed him for a minute, wondering.

“Mm. Alright. Thank you for your encouraging words… Clark.”

“Clark? Like… Clark Kent?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, grinning. “Hero. Secret identity. Ripped. Sweet. Yeah, you’re Clark… you’re not wearing glasses to work, are you? Are you trying to look awkward, or better yet invisible? Unnoticed? Are you a journalist?” you asked quickly to cover up the fact you blatantly told him he had hot body.

“I’m not a journalist,” he said slowly, looking a bit alarmed. Though he didn’t deny the rest.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop prying. But thanks. It’s… really sweet of you, but… I guess I’m too chicken to ask him out.”

The sentence lied heavily between you for few moments.

“…what if he asked you?”

You snorted. “Right. He doesn’t even know I exist, Clark. Doesn’t know my name.”

“Neither do I. And look at us, sitting on a rooftop, talking about boys.”

This time you laughed. “You just wriggled your eyebrows, didn’t you?”

“Maybe…” he played along mysteriously, before his smile softened. “Can I have your name?”

“Well, I guess there’s no point in denying you now know where I live, so a name wouldn’t add much. But you know what? I picked yours. Pick mine.”

“…okay. Nice to meet you… Lois.” He extended his hand towards you, making your breath hitch.

“Nice to meet you, Clark.” You shook his hand, swallowing the nervousness his choice left you in. The love interest? “Though I’m more of a Jimmy Olsen, don’t you think?” The friend.

He tensed, jerking to his feet, crouching, his head tilted. You almost had another heart attack at the sudden movement.

“I gotta go, I’m sorry. There’s… an assault a mugging in progress. But-“ he turned to you, his tense features softening a little, leaning into your space. “I chose the name on purpose.”

Then his freaking lips brushed your temple and he jogged away, jumping-- jumping off the roof. You flied to your feet as well, running after him, checking he wasn’t a bloody smudge on the pavement. He wasn’t. You saw only a shadow several rooftops over. You brought you hand to the place his lips touched your skin, still shocked.

What the actual hell?

You stood on the rooftop for a very long time, staring at the city lights, still trying to process that Clark had… pecked your temple. When you finally made it inside, you couldn’t fall asleep. After an hour of staring into the ceiling, you got up and… baked. Not wanting to bake the same stuff again, you improvised. You added cocoa powder, switched milk chocolate for dark and added some cherries you had bought the other day, hoping for an acceptable outcome.

When you had one of the muffins for breakfast, you came to conclusion it wasn’t half bad, packing one for lunch, counting on a zero lunch-break again. It turned out it was a good idea.

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Part 2

⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰

I know there aren’t many Matt readers with me here, but someone might like it ;)

Thank you for reading :-* 

[copias-thrall]

There’s Something About Mary

A day in the life of our crusty Mr. Goore

Mary POV chapter bc I want to and I can.

⬅️ Previous

*public masturbation, kinda*

Mary wakes up horny.

He must have been having a pleasant dream, because his cock is hard and throbbing where it rests heavy against his thigh. He shoves a hand down into his undone jeans to give his cock a squeeze—just for a moment of relief—and, as the touch wakes him up fully, he realizes he can hear the distinct sounds of sex from one of the rooms. A thump thump thump and a squeak squeak squeak, all punctuated with blatant moans.

Fuck it, he thinks, and he begins to jack it to the sex orchestra going on, not 10ft from where he lies on the couch. Once a place they sometimes took turns on, the couch has become Mary’s de facto room—a subtle punishment for his supposed defection. So, he has no qualms about masturbating in his room, and if any of the other guys have an issue with it, Mary has no problem making his display more public, just for spite.

He pauses only to spit in his hand when his dry palm begins to chafe. It doesn’t even matter when the noises from the other room cease (and later Mary will have to tease them about their staying power), Mary just scrolls through his mental Rolodex until he brings up the memory of his dick in between Suey’s tits, how they jiggled despite being held together, how shiny they became once covered in his jizz, and how she looked up at him as she contorted one to bring it up to her mouth to lap some off.

“Shit, shit,” he exclaims as the memory of her pink tongue lapping up his cum causes him to release. Some shoots up his bare chest, but most of it lands and pools in his belly button. Eyes still closed, his free hand shoots out and fumbles for the box of tissues on the table, encountering instead a stack of thin takeout napkins.

As he does his best to clean himself up with the napkins—whose integrity is suspect—he can hear the low rumble of male voices and a high, feminine giggle from the sex room. Just to be a jackass, he gets himself up so that he can have first dibs on the bathroom.

Making sure to lock the door behind him, Mary turns on the hot faucet, willing the water to warm up sooner than later. He takes the opportunity, while he waits, to piss in the toilet; it’s already open—toilet seat up—even though it’s supposed to put it down when they have guests. They’re out of TP again, so a roll of paper towels rests on the lid of the tank.

Once the water is warm enough, Mary uses a couple pieces from the roll to clean off the jizz drying and to give himself a brief wipe down. His face is still half crusty with makeup, and he’s tempted to just add to it, but he’s learned from hard experience how that can fuck up your face, so—even though it’s a goddamned pain—Mary washes his face. He even uses the harsh Dial hand soap, even though the acrid smell will get up into his nose for hours.

He thinks of the nice-smelling scrub Suey has and her drugstore face cream he sometimes rubs into his skin.

In the soap- and toothpaste-speckled mirror, he starts to apply his “Day Face” (as Suey calls it) from the communal box of makeup (his better stuff is in his backpack): a light dusting of white powder; some eyeliner all the way around; a dull, red lipstick; and black shadow on his cheekbones.

He’s just starting on his hair when there comes a pounding on the door

“Fucks’ sake. C’mon, Goore.”

Mary turns his head upside down in the sink basin so he can haphazardly splash some water into his hair.

“Fuck off, douchebag.”

He starts to work his fingers into his locks, coaxing the glue already in it to activate.

“She’s gotta pee, man.”

He fluffs his forelock in the mirror as his other hand searches for the blood tube in the box.

“We have a kitchen sink.”

A small voice tells him not to take his annoyance with his friends out on the girl, and he sighs.

“Stop being a di—”

The voice cuts off as Mary swings the door open. Brendan's angry face smooths into one of minor irritation. The girl—Lisa?—stands, thighs crushed together, in an oversized kitten t-shirt. She looks at Mary, wide-eyed; her gaze darts to his bare, wet chest before snapping back up.

“Lis,” he says, winking as he saunters out.

Her face crumples a little.

“Lizzy,” she says, and Mary’s stomach swoops a bit when he realizes he’s probably slept with her before.

He makes himself smile as she moves past him to the bathroom.

“That’s what I said: Liz.” He shoots her a finger gun at her as Brendan scowls at them both. When the door closes and Brendan is still glaring, Mary lets out a “What?”

“You sticking around for breakfast, man?”

Mary rolls his eyes. “I’m here, ain’t I?” He starts to paw through the plastic shelving drawers next to the couch for a shirt.

Brendan shrugs. “Thought your pussy-whipped ass might need to get back to that uptown princess of yours.”

He glares at Brendan. “Stop being dick.”

“She’s fucking slumming it, dude. I’m warning you.”

It’s not a new argument, so Mary just ignores him, instead trying to apply a bit of blood to the tip of his forelock using the heart compact Suey gave him.

Titus emerges from the shared room, yawning, in his terrible leopard print robe that’s way too short.

“Morning, asswipe,” he says to Mary as he walks by. “What’re we bitching about?”

Brendan says “uptown girl” as Mary says “nothing.”

Titus sighs.

“Jesus, Brendan. You gotta get over that. That’s Mary’s mistake to make.”

“You know what? Fuck this shit.” Mary starts getting his backpack in order.

“That’s right! Blow off another band meeting!” says Brendan, and Mary spins on his heel to stomp back.

He jabs a finger into his chest. “I’m here all the goddamned time, more than I am at her place. I come to every meeting you tell me about.”

“I shouldn’t have to tell you about anything. You should just be here. You should be committed,” hisses Brendan.

“I’m going to make some toast,” says Titus as he swishes toward the kitchen.

Mary rifles through his plastic draws and slams a notebook and loose papers onto the table.

“There’s mine, dude. Lyrics. Composition. Where’s yours?”

Donnie and Jamie wander out of their room.

“Not this shit again. It’s too fucking early,” says Donnie.

Brendan vibrates. “What about funds, man? A social media presence? You think all that happens by magic?”

“So I’m supposed to write, and compose, and do the budget?” snarls Mary.

“Guys,” moans Jamie.

“And our Insta is shit, by the way.”

“Fuck. Can we not?” moans Donnie.

Mary again jabs a finger at Brendan. “Then tell him to can it. I’ve already been exiled to the couch. I don’t need him picking fights because he doesn’t like my girlfriend, who—by the way—has never fucking done anything wrong.”

“You haven’t been exil—” Jamie starts.

“We were supposed to fucking share those rooms,” Mary hisses as he gesticulates. “I pay the same amount of rent, and yet I come home one day to find all my stuff in a pile in the living room. I have to wait for you guys to stop playing video games because ‘this is shared space’ to fucking sleep.”

“We all agreed—”

“No. You guys agreed. I didn’t get shit to say about it. So you’ll forgive me if I’m not too fucking keen on being pleasant.”

They all stand there, glowering at each other until Donnie says, “I need to take a goddamned piss,” and finds the bathroom door locked. At his soft The fuck? the lock clicks, and Lizzy opens the door cautiously.

“I’m sorry. It just. Seemed like you guys were getting into it.”

Brendan sighs. “C’mon, babe. Let’s get your stuff.”

The fight isn’t a new one, and—with no resolution in sight—they all drop the subject so they can get on with the breakfast of eggs on toast Titus brings out and the subsequent band meeting. The Brick—a cheap, overworked laptop—is brought out so they can go over band business: the budget; the van maintenance and parking costs; the gig and practice schedule is outlined so that they can align their work shifts; new merch ideas are bandied about; and they talk about how to improve their digital sales.

Mary’s leg jiggles impatiently.

The meeting breaks nearly 5hrs later; Jamie goes back to sleep because he’s got the night shift at the Quik•Mart; Brendan heads out for his afternoon shift at Target; it’s Donnie’s day off, so he cues up Mario Kart; and Titus decides he’s going to go pound on the drums in the practice space they rent, since his dad pays his bills.

Mary has been saddled with stopping by the local record stores to see if any of their physical CDs have sold to prove he’s “committed,” even though he’s got the closing shift at Sixes & Sevens.

As he’s leaving the building, he encounters Brendan, who is leaning against the brick, smoking a cigarette. Mary’s fingers twitch.

“So you’re not coming back tonight, then.”

“We have band business?”

“No.”

“Then, no.”

Brendan lets out a puff of smoke.

“You think I’m being a dick, but that girl does not care about you. She’s a tourist. Us—the band. That’s what’s real, Mary.”

Mary knows he should keep walking, but even after counting to 10, he’s still pissed, so he spins on his heel.

“You don’t know anything about her or her goddamned life.”

“Neither do you.” He finishes the smoke, then tosses it to the pavement to grind under his combat boot. “We’ll be here when it all explodes in your face, Goore. But you’re going to have to rebuild a lot of bridges.”

And then he’s off down the sidewalk. Mary stands there, seething, waiting until Brendan disappears round the corner since he’s also headed in that direction.

He’s not really in the best of moods when he hits up the first store, but by the 4th, he’s back to his plucky repartee. The owner of his favorite shop intimates that a vinyl version of their LP might sell much better than their DIY CD, and Mary enthusiastically thanks the dude as if it’s the first time such a concept has been considered.

The whole route honestly doesn’t even really take that much time at all—maybe 2 hours—so he chances stopping by Suey’s. Worst case, he’ll take a nap; best case, she’ll be there to bitch at him.

Like everything else today, however, circumstances are just not on his side, and he opens the door to her tiny fucking apartment to find it empty. The mail is bad again, and he rifles through it, plucking out anything that’s obviously junk to toss and anything that looks like a bill to put on her counter. There’s only a bowl in the sink, so he leaves it.

He’s hoping that she comes home before he has to leave—maybe she’ll even give him a blow job—as he wraps himself up in the afghan that smells slightly of her.

She doesn’t.

His alarm wakes him up at 4:15pm for his shift at 6. Groggily, he stumbles to the fridge to see what there is to eat, and finds a pot crammed in haphazardly amongst the other food items. Mary’s not really sure what he’s looking at—Suey tends to just throw shit together when she can’t be bothered, but most of the time it’s edible.

It ends up being some sort of cheesy potato stew and actually isn’t that bad. He eats the whole thing out of the pot before scrubbing it and the lone bowl clean. He waits as long as he dares to watch her come clomping tiredly through her door, but he really does have to leave. He leaves a kiss on her mirror after he reapplies his lipstick. (He should probably redo his face but: eh.)

Work is work. It starts slow—with Mary taking down the chairs and wiping off everything with the disinfectant spray. Sometimes Mary finds this kind of Zen—a time to hum out chords and roll around lyrics in his head—but today he’s just tired. It gets a little better when Mickey and the other bartender show up to do citrus prep. It’s a weekday, so there’s only a moderate crowd, and Mickey leaves them to it so he can do business manager-type things in his office.

And then there are the girls. Most of the girls who come to Sixes & Sevens aren’t the type to be put off by Mary’s whole shtick—and there are obviously the ones who come here expressly to flirt with him—so he has no qualms turning on his charms. Mickey lets him do it because customers are customers, and if girls want to come and spend money on drinks while they purr at Mary, who is Mickey to stop them? Len or Mika don’t give a shit because tips are pooled.

Used to be Mary could have his pick of a warm body for the evening—some girl (or occasionally some guy if Mary deemed him beefy enough) who’d take him to her nice-smelling, clean apartment … who’d let him spend the night on her soft, downy pillows after he pounded her into next year, before kicking him out at dawn. But now he’s got a girlfriend—one who makes sure he eats and yells at him to wash his face—waiting for him in her stale apartment with her flat, polyester pillows, and Mary hopes he’s not fool enough to fuck that up.

Not that his dick has gotten the memo.

No matter how many times Mary tells that fucker that he’s not going to fuck any of these women, his dick still twitches in interest whenever plump lips are wrapped around straws or fingertips trail over his hand. Tonight is especially bad for some reason, and Mary has to stick close to the walls of the bar so that no one can see his semi. A girl in a furry, white shrug seems particularly on his dick, and he does his best to flirt just enough for a good tip, but not enough for a proposition.

When he gets his break, Mary takes it out back in the alley by the dumpster. The air is chill, but it feels good after the humidity of the bar. He was hoping maybe his dick would go down, but it’s like it’s trying to spite him. Leaning his head back on the wall, he can’t help but close his eyes and run his palm lightly over the outline. It’s a fool’s errand—it’s not like he can get off without it showing on his pants—but that doesn’t stop him from touching.

A voice clears, and Mary startles. He’s out here by the rancid garbage so he can be alone, so he wasn’t really expecting to find anyone else.

“I can help you with that,” says the girl with the white fur that may or may not be real. She’s standing across from him, and he can see that she’s in a dress so simple that it must be hella expensive. She’s holding an unlit cigarette.

Mary jerks his hand away from his crotch, shifting so that he can surreptitiously adjust his jeans.

“The fuck are you doing out back here?”

She shrugs. “Needed to get away from my bitches. I love them but: drama city. You got a light?”

He knows it’s a ruse, but he still fumbles out his Zippo because he’s a goddamned gentleman. She, shockingly, takes the opportunity to move in closer to his body as he holds out the flame … close enough to blow the smoke of the first drag in his face.

“So,” she says, eyes darting down to his semi. “You want me suck that?” She gesticulates with her chin, posture nonchalant but eyes hungry.

His dick gives an answering throb, but he shrugs. “Nah. I got a girl.”

She looks at him, assessing, before half crossing her arms and taking another drag. Smoke pours out her nose.

“She’s not here.”

Mary doesn’t respond immediately, not knowing how to get out of this. She hasn’t said anything untrue. He’s horny, Suey’s not here, and she wants to suck his cock.

He reaches his hand up and taps his breast where he thinks his heart is.

“She’s here,” he says, and he’s glad Suey’s not present because hoo boy would she give him shit for that winner.

The girl just tilts her head at him, this time blowing smoke out the side of her mouth after she inhales. It occurs to Mary that he wants her cigarette more than his dick wants to be sucked. If she thinks this is some kind of elaborate game of hard to get, she’s sorely mistaken.

“You got a picture?”

“A … what?”

She gesticulates impatiently. “A picture. Of this girlfriend.”

Mary thinks, then pats around for his wallet, even though he only ever puts it in his back pocket. When she sees the wallet come out, she laughs.

“An actual picture? That’s old school.”

He shrugs as he rifles. “I’m on my break.” He doesn’t tell her that his ancient flip phone doesn’t take pictures. Well, not good ones.

The photo of Suey he has is relatively new—slipped in behind the old, worn one of his mum—but its edges are starting to soften. In the image, Suey stands, hip popped, as she gives him the finger with a snotty look on her face. She’s in one of her weird 90′s outfits—a micro mini and tied up band tee—and the cute pudge of her belly hangs over her waist band a little. Her hair is pushed back from her face because she’s just lifted up her sunglasses—there’s still a little mark on her nose where they were resting.

She hates this picture, but her attitude makes him smile.

“You gonna ogle it all night, Mary?”

Mary’s attention snaps back to the alley. He ignores the intimacy. Carefully, with a stern look on his face that he hopes conveys how much the photo is not to be fucked with, he hands the picture over.

White Fur looks at the picture for a long time. Then she looks up at him. She gives the image one more glance before handing it back to him.

“Yeah, ok,” she says as she crosses her arms again.

Mary tucks the photo back into his wallet.

“The fuck does that mean?” he scowls. He’s just about had it with people insulting Suey today, and some random-ass girl in a back alley is the last person he’d let get away with it, even if she is a fan.

She takes her last drag before flicking the stub in the direction of a dumpster.

“Dunno. You seem like the type to have some scene girl with more legs than brains hanging off your arm.”

Mary thinks that’s a little uncharitable: he’s always been an equal-opportunity lay.

“She seems legit though,” the girl continues. “Makes sense.”

“Uh. Thanks?”

“Yeah, no problem.” She heads for the door, but stops to smirk at him. “Looks like I helped after all.”

As she swings back inside, Mary looks down to realize his hard-on is gone.

Mickey doesn’t cut him early, but he doesn’t make him stay past closing either. Even so, it’s still after 3am when he gets to Suey’s. The bills are gone from the counter, but there are no new dishes in the sink. He opens the fridge to find a pizza box crumpled into the top, balanced precariously on the other items. Mary takes it out and inhales the cold pizza right from the box; he knows they’re all for him because Suey fucking hates pepperoni. (Though it doesn’t escape his notice that she’s put one piece of pineapple in the center to mess with him.)

He leaves the box by the trash (he’ll flatten it tomorrow), and then makes his way to her bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth, lest he incur her wrath.

When he finally wiggles into her twin bed in his boxers, he’s bone tired. His dick still kinda wants some action, but Mary thinks he’d probably just fall asleep in the middle, and Suey really would bite his head off if he woke her up for no reason. He wishes she’d just sleep nude, but finding her in one of his well-worn shirts is the next best thing. He doesn’t mean to wake her up, but he can’t help himself from running his hands all over her—this girl who sees him and not his “image.”

“Mare?” she says in a quiet, sleepy voice.

He kisses her head.

“Go back to sleep, baby doll.”

She doesn’t speak again, but she squirms around until she’s sprawled across his chest. He’d prefer to have her caught up in a little spoon, but having her pressed into him—body sleep warm—is nothing to wave a stick at.

This is all he wanted, anyway.

Next ➡️

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 103

This chapter was, honestly, a complete an total delight to write. I wanted to take an opportunity to work more with a character who has gotten very little ‘screen’ time: Sam.  He’s one of two characters on the autism spectrum (please correct me if that isn’t the right term?) who are based on actual people who I’ve been acquainted with.  I’ve admittedly shied away from writing much of Sam or Derek, largely because I have been scared into flop-sweats at the possibility that I will misrepresent autistic people. Even though I was acquainted with the real life versions of both Sam and Derek, that was nearly a decade ago and memory is fickle.

However. In an effort to do better all the way around with the characters I am writing, I found podcasts of people on the spectrum talking about what makes them unique, how they feel about being autistic, and what they consider good representation. And then I took a deep breath and wrote this chapter. It is the first, but I don’t want it to be the only. Turns out? Sam is a REALLY neat dude (I think)!

Finally, finally, I had a day off from work and crises. Tyche planned to spend the day baking, Antoine was booked solid with appointments after taking his ‘sabbatical’ to help Xiomara, and everyone else in my life was currently either teaching or attending Galactic Core classes this shift.  The single exception was Conor, who currently was serving his volunteer shift in the aeroponics lab. 

Because of this, I was currently making my way down there, steak and beer pie in hand, to surprise him with lunch. A happy humming trailed behind me, both from the newfound free time on my hands and the fact that Hujylsogox technology meant I wasn’t burning my hands while carrying the food for more than five seconds.  In fact, forty-five minutes later, the pastry was still hot, my hands were still cool, and I was paging for entry into the lab with a note that I was carrying food, just in case any poisonous plants were out.

It was one time I forgot, and fortunately it only upset Conor’s stomach and wasn’t fatal.

Shortly, the door slid open to reveal - Sam, not Conor. “Hey,” I grinned, recovering quickly. “I didn’t know you’d be down here right now, or I would have brought you lunch, too.” Trying to be less awkward, I gently rocked the pie in my hands. “I’m sure Conor doesn’t mind sharing though?”

Sam smiled in return and stepped back. “It smells like beer,” he replied. “But thank you.”

“The alcohol cooks out?” I tried, caught between being polite and being pushy.

To my somewhat relief, he shook his head. “Yeast,” he pointed out, wrinkling his nose and sticking his tongue out slightly. “Not a fan.”

Couldn’t exactly blame him, since I didn’t drink beer for a similar reason. “Next time, I’ll check if you’re going to be here, and bring you lunch too.”

“Sophia,” he started to admonish, before affixing me with a wordless stare.

Ugh. Apparently, I wasn’t quite free of my own awkwardness. “I just feel like I should bring food for everyone I know and not just Conor,” I tried to explain. “Where I grew up, it’s rude to bring food for only one person.”

“I eat,” he replied, waving vaguely.  

It took a few moments to realize that I completely misunderstood the gesture.  He wasn’t waving without meaning at all.

“Are those tomatoes!?” I gasped. “And that’s baby butter lettuce… Cucumbers!? You have cucumbers!?”

“Baby ones,” Sam grinned proudly just as Conor came in.

“Thought I heard your voice,” he laughed before tipping my face up for a kiss. “Sam showing off his salad again?”

I forced a glare and gently poked my partner in the chest. “Tomatoes. Conor. You did not tell me there were fresh tomatoes.”

Conor laughed, but Sam was the one to reply. “They just turned ripe today. You can have them if you want?”

“Oh, gosh,” I gasped, no small amount of wistfulness in my words. “Sam, I was joking. Just teasing him, I promise. I wasn’t seriously mad, and please don’t give these to me because you thought I was upset. I’m not. It was a joke.” Trying to compose myself, I forced a hand through my hair. “Did you grow these?”

He nodded, excited. “In soil we think will be like the soil on Von. As a test, to see if they taste different.”

My head, neck, and eyebrows all shot up. “Are they safe to eat?”

“These are, yes. The earlier ones, we weren’t sure, so Conor couldn’t tell you about them.”

“Sam, seriously. These aren’t my tomatoes. They belong to everyone, so thank you for being careful and not letting anyone eat them until you were sure.”

“I know you want a tomato, Sophia.” Without hesitation, he reached out and plucked three from a nearby plant. “If all three of us eat one, to test the flavor, then they can’t be ‘your’ tomatoes, right?”

Conor shook me gently. “He has a point, love.  These are the first batch that ripened and tested safe for humans. Sam’s probably eaten his weight in them, but I don’t think any other people have tried them.”

Sam looked down, trying to hide his ear-splitting smile. “They taste really good.”

With a sigh of defeat, I looked at the dark red berry in my hand. My curiosity instantly took over. “These look like zebra tomatoes, kind of.”

Sam’s face lit up, while Conor was still studying the one he had. “They’re a cross! A black zebra tomato and a Cherokee chocolate tomato, modified to be grape sized!” He popped his into his mouth, crushing it happily. “Not very acidic, but the soil also gives them more of a mineral flavor.”

Fascinated, all hesitation left my body as I shoved the fruit into my mouth. The first bite was an explosion, part familiar acidic taste, part something that I could only describe as ‘red’, and something… almost stony. Not in texture, but in flavor.  It wasn’t something I had ever experienced with a tomato, but - 

“Wine,” I murmured. “It’s.. stony, like a wine. New Zealand white, actually, with the volcanic soil… That’s…”

“It’s clean,” Conor interjected. Chewing thoughtfully, he continued. “That mineral taste keeps it from lingering in your mouth. I bet I could eat one of these tomatoes and bite a piece of cake right after without the flavors crossing.”

Sam replied, but it was so quiet I couldn’t hear him. When I asked him to repeat himself, he turned his face toward me with his eyes closed, hands grasping nervously. “I like to dip them in Nutella,” he enunciated loudly.

OH.

The idea of ‘tomatoes and Nutella’ made me draw up short, but then I thought over what Sam had said. He didn’t say he liked tomatoes, in general, in hazelnut spread, he said he liked these tomatoes dipped in it. And Conor’s point about eating one and then a bite of cake echoed through my mind. Nodding firmly, I tried to telegraph my confidence in Sam as hard as I could, lifting my chin far enough to make my neck itch. “Well then. You know these tomatoes better than anyone, and have eaten more than anyone. I would like to try these in Nutella, if you have three more ripe ones?”

Sam’s eyes snapped open briefly before he snatched three of the fattest little tomatoes he could find.  Eagerly, he yanked open a random drawer and revealed a hidden container of the spread. “I’ll have to hide it again, Conor eats it on everything,” he confessed before swiping the tomatoes through like they were strawberries, leaving a neat little curl of chocolate and hazelnut on each one.

Taking the one offered to me gingerly, I had to admit I felt intrigued.  The deftness Sam used to dip them told me that this wasn’t only something he’d tried, it was how he enjoyed these the most. Before Conor could get over the concept of chocolate and hazelnut on a tomato, I popped my treat in my mouth to satisfy my curiosity.

Holy. Fiendish. Shit. I almost choked on the amount of saliva that filled my mouth. That was incredible, if I was being brutally honest.  I never would have tried it with a tomato grown in Terran soil, but… hell. This was a whole new thing. “Sam,” I choked out as I desperately tried to keep from shouting. “You’re….. That’s brilliant.” The flavor was like chocolate, hazelnuts, strawberry, and orange, washed down with a good wine. “I think you just converted me to Nutella.”

Conor gaped, which only made Sam laugh harder. “Sophia,” Conor sputtered. “Do you mean to tell me that you hate Nutella so much that experimental tomatoes are what convinced you? I feel like I don’t know you at all, suddenly.”

“Yeah, no,” I confirmed. “This is probably the first time I’ve liked it in my life.”

“I want a divorce.”

“We aren’t even married,” I pointed out, before realizing that Sam was getting incredibly upset. “Annnnnd we can’t make that joke, babe.” Making sure Conor saw me glancing at Sam, I clarified. “Sam, that’s just a joke. Conor wouldn’t break up with me over Nutella any more than Maverick broke up with me because I like spicy food. But we - “ I elbowed Conor just hard enough to get his attention without making him choke on his second tomato, “won’t joke like that again. I’m sorry.”

Hesitantly, Sam nodded before wrinkling his nose. “You do like really spicy food.”

“I do,” I confirmed. “And Maverick does not. So, I make him food that isn’t as spicy. And, just like that, I don’t eat Nutella, and Conor doesn’t make me.”

Narrowing his eyes, Sam turned to Conor. “Is that why you always steal mine?”

Conor nodded sheepishly. “I’m sorry, mate. I’m really bad about that, aren’t I?”

“It’s free, Conor,” Sam pointed emphatically to the wall. “From the console.”

“Does that mean you’re mad?”

“It means stop leaving empty containers in my drawer. If you eat the last of it, at least get me more. Geez!”

“So, you aren’t mad?”

“I’m mad about the empty containers,” Sam scowled. “There is nothing nice about coming to work with all this fruit” he gestured expansively “and having nothing to dip it in.”

Conor opened his mouth to reply, but closed it just as quickly.

“He’s got a point,” I added, knowing I was entirely unhelpful. “I mean, what if I made meatloaf and no mashed potatoes? Or gravy? No either?”

His head snapped toward me, his expression horrified. “Sophia, what in the…. You would never expect someone to -” Without prompting, he cut himself off. “Ah, shit. I’ve been an arse, haven’t I?”

“You have been a complete donkey,” Sam intoned seriously. Then, with a smirk, he added, “I think you owe me pickles.”

Conor groaned at that. Sam loved pickles, but only specific kinds. Predictably, my boyfriend’s face pivoted to leverage his most beseeching expression at me.

Unfazed, I shook my head. “Nope. I’m not the one who ate his snack topping. I’ll give you the recipe, and you can make the pickles.”

“Love…”

“Taking his Nutella and not replacing it is rude, and you know how I feel about rude people.” I examined my nails closely. “And you are perfectly capable of getting whole radishes and matchstick carrots from the console, but nice try.”

“Brussels sprouts, too, please,” Sam asked politely.

All I could do with such a request was nod firmly. “And the brussels sprouts.”

“I don’t even like - “

“They aren’t for you,” I pointed out. “Although, I’m sure Maverick will appreciate it if you make a double batch of the radishes.”

“And Derek likes the brussels sprouts,” Sam pointed out.

When Conor sank to the floor with a groan, neither of us could restrain our laughter.  Who knew that ill-gotten chocolate led to pickling your worst enemies?  Then again, I guess Conor was about to find that out the hard way.

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[multifandomthoughts]

Still of the Night

Requested by: @dynamesvirtue​, 

AFAB reader

Word Count: 2.4k words.

Synopsis: It’s been weeks since Magnus had been home, and you’re ready to give him a warm welcome when he returns! Warm, and oh so naughty.

Wandering the halls of Mordhaus once again, you sighed and looked up at the dark and foreboding walls of your residency, only lit by the blazing torches. Magnus had been away for it seems like an eternity, and you felt like you had been without him for years rather than months. Sleeping in your shared bed was incredibly tough; you’d often lay there and inhale his scent, and once morning came you’d be disheartened when he wasn’t right beside you.

He would call you, sure, but it wasn’t as often as you would like. You didn’t know what was going on every night that you were away from him, and you don’t know what kind of mischief he was getting up to with his bandmates. That was pretty much how you had met him; you had decided to go out with your friends for a night at the sleaziest club in the city. You hadn’t been doing so well lately and your friends had decided to cheer you up by taking you out for the night. You would rather have stayed inside on the couch eating ice cream and watching mediocre TV. But you weren’t going to get what you wanted this time; oh no. It will be fun, they said. Maybe you’ll find someone you like, they said. That part ended up being true. You ended up leaving the house and going with your friends to the bar, whereupon entering, you were met with an interesting sight.

Three men, clearly inebriated were arguing and growling at each other “growling at each other. You couldn’t make out most of the conversation, but a few scattered bits reached you. Mostly “douchebaeg”, and “yous ams a stupid mans”, and a rather loud “drums ain’t fuckin cool!!”. You wanted to avoid weirdos like that, but then he caught your eye. Unfortunately, before you could approach the strangely alluring man a brawl erupted between the other dudes. It started with a bottle getting smashed on someone’s head, then people were throwing whole plates at each other and picking up stools to use as weapons. Your first thought had been “fuck this!” and you found a table away from the action to try and hide under. Sneaking away from the epicenter of the fight, you seem to have finally gotten close to the man.

Furtively moving to the barstool next to him, he gave you a side-eye, before giving a small accent hello. You introduced yourself, giving your name, and then began small talk with him as the while banging, crashing, and screaming was going on in the background. “I can’t believe they’re doing it again...they always do this when we go out.” He sighed and took a long sip of his drink, covering his face with his hands.

“You know them?” You replied, surprised that such a calm and collected man could know some people so rowdy and crazy. Sighing and pausing before he spoke, he says “Yeah…they happen to be my bandmates. We happen to be on tour at the moment and whenever we go to some restaurant or bar I have to be the responsible one and reign them in. It’s quite insulting.” A screech erupted from one of them; startled, you looked back at them. One of them, a man with ginger dreadlocks, piercings, and a wristband covering each arm had picked up another man by the shirt. The man he was picking up had dark brown hair shaped like a mushroom, a gap in between his teeth, and was a little chubbier than the others. The man next to you, who’s name you found out was Magnus, went wide-eyed. “I think I have to go…this looks bad.” Before getting up to go deal with his bandmates, he writes his name and number on a napkin in front of him and dashes off.

You headed towards your bedroom for the night, once again expecting to be greeted with the same old thing as every night that he was on tour. Unbeknownst to you, Magnus had arrived home quite early from his tour and had decided to surprise you by sitting on his side of your shared bed. Walking inside of your shared quarters, a smirk crept onto his face when he had discovered you were right where he expected you to be.

“Magnus…” you gasped, so happy to see your significant other after time away. “Hello my dear…” he responded, his thick accent piercing the air, sending a shiver down your spine. “I thought you weren’t supposed to be back for a few more days…I expected to sleep alone tonight…”

Your voice went from normal to a whisper, as you realized the rest of the band may be in your vicinity. “Where is everyone else?” You questioned, hoping that if this became intimate, it wouldn’t attract their gazes. “Oh, worry not my dove. I sent them on a little bit of an adventure to make sure that they wouldn’t interrupt our precious time. I sent them on a nearly impossible quest to find a guitar that can play a riff by itself. They won’t be back for quite a while.” You smirked, knowing that they will never find it and that maybe tonight will be a good night to get some alone time. Scooting over onto his lap, looking innocent, you begin to ask about the tour, all the things that he’s gotten up to, and the hijinks that ensued. “Oh…it seems that you’re giving me two contrasting ideas…two can play that game.” He stated in a deadpan voice, as you could feel two fingertips begin to graze your shoulder. Perfect, your plan was beginning to fall into place. You turn around and straddle his hips, running your fingers through his brown curls.

Cutting off his words with a kiss, you hoped that you had gotten your point across about what you wanted. Pulling back, he growled and cooed. Getting closer to him, you can smell more of his natural scent, and it only excites you further. Leaning forward to rest your forehead on his, your breath becomes uneven as your cheeks grow flush and you can’t stop smiling.

“What shall I do to you first?” You muse teasingly, gently tugging on the hair near the nape of his neck. In response, he lets out a primal sort of growl from the back of his throat and moves to kiss your face and neck as if wanting to get the advantage of the first move. This only prompts you to hold his head tighter and closer so he can’t pull away. Breathy sighs and light moans pass your lips before you even realize it’s happening. Your lips on his, soft and wet, the subtle taste of alcohol on them. You pause and pull his jacket off of him, genuine leather, before placing your mouth back on his. Instead of putting your hands on his cheeks like a normal person, you stroke his now bare chest, admiring the dips and indents his body had.

“You look just as good as you did when I last saw you....” you cooed to him. Kissing him again, you lick his lips, asking for permission for entrance. He gave it, and your tongue swirled around his. Gripping his bareback until it left marks, you scooted closer into his lap, getting much more into it. Magnus bit your lip in anticipation, not drawing any blood, but sending chills down your spine when you realized what had happened. As you were clenching your fingers into his back, he was running his long skilled fingers up your shirt, causing you to flinch.

“You look every bit as good too, and I wanna see if that’s true under all these layers.”

The more skin he exposed the more places he started planting kisses. His breathing became erratic and his eyes were lidded. “You can’t imagine how much I need ya, after all that time apart.” He muttered, hands going down to squeeze the flesh of your ass. You nodded your head softly, taking his hands and attaching them to your shirt. He seemed to get the idea and grasped, pulling your shirt over your head and onto the floor. “I never get tired of this...” he coos, and with your consent, he runs his hands over your chest and squeezes it. You squeak, as his hands were cold and you were not expecting him to squeeze them.

“Y-You like it? You stuttered, feeling a little shy about your body. “Of course my dear, why would I not?” As he was squeezing your chest, you decided to do something of your own. Sliding your hands down his body, and into the back end of his pants, you began to squeeze and knead. The tender flesh fit right into the palm of your hand as if you were squeezing a peach.

“Ahhh!” He let out a long moan as you held the flesh in your hand. Leaving one hand to play with his rear, the other slid around front to undo the button and then the zipper, as you start tugging his pants off entirely. You wondered how he could go every night wearing these pants; they were long leather pants that seemed to stick to every piece of skin.

Magnus starts wiggling his hips to help you yank his pants down, and you can immediately notice the burden he’s been hiding under the next layer.

“Oh, look what we have here…someone has been a needy little boy, haven’t you? You have been a good boy while I was away, haven’t you? If you have, you get the joy of me wracking you with pleasure so intense that you can’t even speak.” Magnus gulped, finding it hard to speak already. You run your hand over the fabric of his underwear, ready to absolutely wreck him.

“Maybe I’ve been a good boy, maybe I’ve been a bad boy, who knows? You know how rowdy I and the boys can get when we’re away. I’ve been waiting so long for this, every lonely night, every waking day. You drive me absolutely wild…” Magnus sneered at you, in the way a certain eighties musician would have done while attempting to rub your legs for payback. Being teased was not something he liked. his knee brushed up your inner thigh to your core, and you couldn’t help but coo with delight.

“And you’re making it really hard for me to not just tear these clothes off you. So are we gonna keep torturing each other or are you gonna give me what we both want?” As you say, you lean forward to fill his hands with your chest, licking your lips. You brush your hand dangerously close to his covered cock, desperately wanting to pull it out. But you know that it wouldn’t be fair to have him completely nude while you were just missing a shirt. All the same, you were the one to take his pants off. So he should do the same, and to that end you stand up and wink at him. “Help me get out of these?” You ask, wiggling your hips in a seductive manner, hopefully enticing him to do what you want.

Magnus’s brown eyes widen and he scrambles to take your pants off, almost tripping over himself. He hooks into your pants and panties, yanking them down with such force that he could have ripped them if he wasn’t careful. Now he could get to the goods he wanted. You were still as beautiful as he remembered, no bumps bruises or marks to be seen on your body.

The fresh air hits your body startling you. You squeal and giggle with the combination of that and Magnus’s hands roaming your body. The pads of his fingertips were calloused and worn and made for an interesting texture against your skin. As his hands neared your groin, with your approval he spread your legs just a tad wider to get a better look at you.

“Such a dirty boy, aren’t you? Looking directly at the place a man shouldn’t be. The only way you’re going to make up for this is to beg; now go on and do it!” What had gotten into you, Magnus thinks, how much has changed since he last saw you? No matter, it was interesting and exciting.

“Please, may I fuck you?” He mumbled, the words falling out of his mouth. “Louder!” You proclaim. “I want to fuck you, please!” One more time, you said. “Let me fuck you!” “Now that’s more like it.” Pulling down his undergarments, his erection now sprung free as he shuddered from the cold air connecting with his cock. Holding it in one hand, the other went to your hip to hold the two points of union steady. “Ready for the big show?” He pants excitedly

Nodding your head vigorously, you were excited to say the least. “What’s that? I need verbal confirmation that you’re ready.” “Yes, I’m ready. Please fuck me, Magnus!” You whined, just looking at his cock inches away from you. Slowly slipping into you, he let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding.

Meanwhile you let out more than just a breath, a high moan bursting from you as you started rocking your hips back against him. “Fuck yes…I missed this feeling so damn much…” Pumping in and out at a steady pace, Magnus could already begin to feel himself enjoy this. Taking his time at first he then starts to speed up a bit, losing his mind at the pleasure he’s feeling. You’re feeling a similar way, however, you decide to play with his hair gently. Alerted back by his senses, he realizes that he could do so much more for you in terms of pleasure. Upon this revelation, he places his mouth upon your nipple and sucks.

Muffled sound pours out of Magnus’s mouth, something along the lines of: “Now the tables have turned and you’re the one lost in pleasure.” And at that moment, you yanked on one of his dark brown curls, eliciting a yelp and a shiver of pleasure to go through Magnus. After what felt like hours, you could feel your climax creep up on you, sweat dripping from both of your bodies. “I’m so close...” you said in a voice hoarse from screams and moans. “Yeah I can’t hold back any longer...” he replied, muscles twitching in anticipation of the coming release. “So where do you want it?”

You didn’t expect to get that question, and your pleasure addled brain can hardly think about a response, but the answer does find its way out. “M-my stomach please…” you manage to stutter out through pants. “You got it…ah! Pulling out, his seed explodes onto your stomach as you find your way to your climax, pulsing and sweating all the way through it. Magnus puts a hand on your thigh to help you stabilize as you come down, breathing heavily himself.

As your combined shuddering began to dissipate, and your breathing slowed back to normal, Magnus smirked at you. “Damn fine way to welcome me back, don’t you think?” You leaned in to kiss him again. “Only the best for you.” The two of you soon retreated under the bedsheets and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

[bijvoorbeeldja]

Swimmer Sander AU Part 4 (Final Chapter)

Part 1/Part 2/Part 3

.......

It took Robbe a full ten minutes to calm his friends down. 

When he hadn’t immediately denied that Sander had in fact, been looking at him, they went crazy. Amber was squealing, Jana was tugging on his on sleeve, and Jens was shaking his head, exchanging shocked What is going on? looks with Aaron.

Robbe didn’t want to get into it here, right before the meet was about to start. He tried to just shrug off their questions, but they were not giving up. They wanted answers.

“Why is he looking at you, Robbe?” Jana asked, her voice reaching a shrill pitch.

“Do you two know each other?” Jens asked, prodding Robbe for more information. 

“Guys, it’s not…” Robbe started, but before he could continue, an alarm blared overhead, announcing that the start of the race was minutes away. Robbe glanced over at Sander, who was still staring at him, a pleading look paining his face. His coach was leaning into his ear, giving instructions and gesturing toward the pool. Sander didn’t acknowledge him, still trying to communicate across the room with the boy.

Then, another alarm sounded, and Sander’s coach pushed him to his starting block. He fumbled with his swimming cap, eyebrows furrowed together. Robbe’s stomach twisted look at him. But for now, all he could do was watch.

……….

Sander didn’t win a single race. 

The entire meet was a wash for him, as he lagged behind in every race, distracted, unfocused, and off-mark. His coach was fuming beet-red, yelling enraged expletives at Sander between races. Sander’s head hung, and Robbe watched with shallow breath and tangles in his stomach as Sander rubbed a hand over his face and tried to shake off the obvious obstructions plaguing his thoughts and performance. 

But he hadn’t improved as the race went on, and as it ended, there was a definite and tangible disappointment lingering in the stands, nearly as thick as the poolwater. 

His friends remained in the bleachers, talking as the rest of the swimmers and crowds cleared out. 

“I can’t believe it,” Jana said, shaking her head and frowning. “He’s never swam that poorly before. Something must really be going on.”

At this, they all looked at Robbe expectantly. 

“Guys, it’s nothing. It doesn’t have anything to do with me,” Robbe said, lifting his hands in defense. 

“You’re kidding, right?” Moyo interjected. “Robbe, everyone in this whole building could see how he was staring at you. You obviously have something going on with that dude.”

They waited, looking at Robbe with eager faces. 

“Look,” Robbe said, his cheeks warming. “I promise, it’s nothing. Sander...he’s...he’s..”

“What, Robbe?! Say it!” Jana urged, shaking Robbe. 

“He’s giving me swimming lessons,” Robbe finally spit out, exhaling now that the truth was finally out.

“...swimming lessons?” Jens asked, brows furrowed. “But you hate swimming?”

“Yeah,” Robbe said, averting his gaze. “I thought I did. But I just....you guys dragged me to all these swim meets, and I just saw how calm he looked swimming, and with all the shit going on in my life, I wanted that. I wanted to just...feel calm.”

“Oh, Robbe,” Jana said, grabbing Robbe’s hand. “I’m sorry you’ve been dealing with so much.”

Robbe squeezed her hand back, nodding.

“Okay, but Robbe,” Moyo said, drawing the conversation back. “How did you start taking lessons from Sander? I didn’t know he taught.”

“Well, I just answered an ad here at the pool, and it turned out to be him,” Robbe said, smiling at the memory. “He said teaching helped him relax with all the stress of training.”

“Wow,” Jana said, smirking. “How many people does he teach? Maybe I can get those private lessons, after all.”

“Sorry, Jana, but from the look on Sander’s face, Robbe is the only student he wants,” Jens said, slapping Robbe on the shoulder and raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“Stop it,” Robbe said, shoving him off. “It’s not like that. It’s just lessons. But I guess...that’s all over now.”

Robbe bit his lip, internally mourning the end of whatever it was he’d had with Sander, even if it had just been a few moments of happiness. He’d been a distraction for Sander, nothing more. 

“Robbe?” Moyo was tapping him on the shoulder, but he was still dazed, looking at the barely-there ripples lining the pool. “Robbe.”

Finally, he looked up, finding surprised looks on his friends’ faces. Following their gaze, he saw Sander. He was standing at the door to the locker room, looking sheepish. His hair was still damp, a towel hanging around his neck. Robbe sat there, breathless, looking at Sander with nerves filling his insides. For a moment, everything was silent. 

Then, he felt a shove.

“Robbe!” Jana was whisper-yelling. “Go to him. Now!”

“What?” Robbe asked, looking nervously at Jana. 

“Robbe,” Jens said, joining in. “He obviously wants to talk to you. Go!” 

Swallowing, Robbe got up, heading carefully towards the locker room, as Sander disappeared behind the door. He could hear muffled squeals behind him, and he looked backed, his face equal parts embarrassed and anxious.

The locker room was empty, quiet when Robbe walked in, the door hinge squeaking loudly behind him. 

“Uhm, S-Sander?” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “Sander?”

Robbe kept walking, carefully peering around corners in case there the two weren’t alone. 

“Sander?” He said again, whispering loudly. 

He reached the end of the locker room, where a row of shower faucets dripped excess water onto the tile. 

“Robbe.”

Robbe spun around, and Sander was there, standing with shoulders slumped, his face pained. Water was still dripping off his body, and Robbe’s throat went dry at the sight of his toned, tan skin, impossibly attractive. He stood there, looking at Robbe with electric green eyes. Robbe couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. 

“Robbe, I…” Sander started, but he didn’t finish, instead closing the space between them. Before Robbe could form a coherent thought, Sander was kissing him. Passionately, but gently, he pushed Robbe back and up against the tile of the locker room shower, his hands grasping his face. 

Robbe’s eyes widened in shock, but with the feel of Sander’s lips warm moving rhythmically against his, his lids fluttered close. Fireworks were exploding in his chest and he couldn’t fathom what was happening, but with everything in him, he never wanted it to stop. He hooked his arms gently around Sander’s waist, and feeling him pull closer, Sander kissed deeper, needy whines escaping his throat. 

When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against Robbe’s, catching his breath. 

Robbe felt dazed, and tried to clear his head with deep breaths. 

After a few moments, Sander lifted Robbe’s face, hands cupping his jaw as he met his gaze.

“Robbe, I am so sorry,” he said, his voice straining. “I am so sorry that I missed our lesson. My coach, he—”

“It’s okay,” Robbe said, looking down. “I heard about what happened with your coach. I’m sorry for being a distraction. I never wanted your career to suffer because of me.”

“Robbe, no,” Sander said firmly, tipping his chin up with his finger. “Don’t say that. You are not a distraction.” 

“I know that I screwed things up for you today,” Robbe said, frowning again. “Your coach is probably going to find me and kill me.”

“Robbe,” Sander groaned, leaning against Robbe’s head again. “You don’t get it.” He pulled back again, stroking a thumb against Robbe’s cheek. 

“Look at me,” he said softly, pleading. “Look at me.”

Robbe looked up slowly, meeting Sander’s intense gaze. 

“I have only known you for what, two weeks?” Sander said, smiling. “And you have changed everything for me. Everything.”

“I know, Sander,” Robbe said. “And I’m sorry. I don’t want to make things harder for you—”

“Robbe IJzermans, will you shut up?” Sander said, smiling, as Robbe’s jaw dropped. “I just kissed you in a locker room shower. Are you sensing what I’m trying to convey to you here, or do you need me to try making out with you again for you to get the message?”

Robbe blushed, and Sander pulled him closer.

“You made me want to swim again,” he said. “And today, when I couldn’t tell you what happened, why I didn’t show up at our lesson, I just got so scared, like you’d think I’d stood you up. That’s why I just couldn’t perform today. I was so in my head, scared that I’d already lost you….lost what we had. If...if we had what I thought we had…”

Feeling warmness flooding through him, Robbe found Sander’s hand, gently intertwining his fingers.

“I felt it, too.”

……..

Robbe was waiting outside the door, anxiously wringing his hands and looking at his phone. It had been almost an hour.

Sander was inside the office, talking to his coach. Robbe could hear muffled conversation, at moments louder than others, but he couldn’t make out what was being said. And that made him more nervous.

After their kiss in the locker room, a moment so long that when Robbe emerged, flushed and with puffy lips, his friends were gone. Sander asked to meet with his coach the next day.

Robbe was waiting for him outside, so anxious he was making himself sick. He so desperately wanted to be with Sander, but he was agonizingly self-conscious about his place in his life. Sander was so talented, and he couldn’t bear to mess up the future he had, no matter how great that kiss had been. 

Suddenly, the door opened and Robbe jumped. Sander came out, biting back a smile as he saw him. His coach followed, looking flustered, but humbled. When he saw Robbe, he paused.

“So this is him, then?” He said, looking at Sander.

Sander smiled widely now, walking over to kiss Robbe on the cheek. 

“Yes, coach, this is Robbe,” he said blushing. “The one who made me excited to swim again.” Joining their fingers, Sander looked back at his coach, posture confident. 

A pause, and then the coach walked over to Robbe, extending a hand. “Well, I’m glad Sander has you, Robbe. A great support system can really help an athlete’s training.”

Robbe gave a small smile, shaking his hand and nodding.

“I’ll always be there for Sander.”

The coach smiled at the two, clapping Robbe on the shoulder as he left. When the boys were alone, Sander pulled Robbe toward him until they were face to face, their breath mingling. 

“So I have practice in a couple hours, but before then, we have unfinished business, IJzermans,” Sander said, his voice deep, tantalizing. 

“Is that right?” Robbe said, leaning closer, eyes closing as he felt Sander’s lips graze his. 

“That’s right,” Sander whispered, brushing a kiss against Robbe’s lips. “Time for your next lesson!”

Sander laughed as he pulled away, winking at Robbe’s dazed, in-love look. “Get your butt in the pool, IJzermans! Time for you to learn how to swim. Your teacher’s waiting.”

........

There was still quite a bit of squealing, but not nearly as much as the weeks passed. 

When Robbe met up with his friends, hand-in-hand with Sander, his friends went crazy. Squealing, selfies, the whole deal, humiliating Robbe to no end. But with time, their star-struck looks grew more into more natural encounters as the two started dating, becoming an inseparable pair. 

They still showed up for Sander at every meet, Robbe now the most vocal cheerleader. And Sander, at the end of each race, had a chlorine-soaked kiss for his star pupil. 

........

See my fic Masterlist here.

[slutforgoodliterature]

Pietro Maximoff x Reader - Let Me Prove It To You

This was a request from one of you guys! I’m so excited to start doing more requests so feel free to send them in. 

To the babe that requested this, this one’s for you! You know who you are ;)

Summary: Pietro and Wanda are introduced to the rest of the Avengers, and he is immediately drawn to you. You, however, believe that no one like Pietro could ever be into you... until all of a sudden he really, truly, deeply is. 

Warnings: smut (slow burn), angst, dirty talk (in his accent omfggg) 

Hold on to your seats guys and dolls coz it’s gonna be a doozy

AU | that Pietro didn’t die bc that shit is sad as heck, so let's pretend he survived Age of Ultron ok :))

“Listen up you lot!” Tony’s voice rang out across the common area, where he and Steve had called a team meeting. 

They had just returned from a massive fight in Sokovia and brought with them not only a strange floating red man but also a set of arguably stranger twins. 

You had been out of action for the last few weeks due to a couple broken ribs and so had been sent on vacation by Tony. For three weeks, you were peacefully soaking up the sun in Honolulu, Hawaii, until you saw new reports of a freaking floating city with all of your friends on it. 

By the time you had flown back into New York, it was over and dealt with, but you were left feeling useless and unneeded.

“Earth to Y/N,” Steve called, bringing you back to the present, and you went red, even though he was sending you a reassuring smile and there was no real heat behind his words. The whole team knew how you were feeling and tried to comfort you, but there wasn’t much they could say to cheer you up. 

You looked towards the front of the room and were instantly drowning in a pair of cerulean blue eyes that locked onto yours. You froze in place, unable to tear your eyes away. 

The young man who owned those eyes was just as gorgeous. White blonde hair that fell over his forehead, arched brows, a strong jaw, full lips, wide shoulders, narrow hips and-

Wait, are those New Balances? 

You ignored the odd choice of runners and looked back up at this mysterious newcomer’s eyes and were shocked to find he had just down the same sweep of your body as you did to his. His lips curled up in a small grin and he once again caught your gaze, boring into your soul with his piercing eyes. 

“Team, most of you know Wanda and Pietro Maximoff, for those who don’t, this is them.” Tony pointed unceremoniously to the twins and was met with silence. “Cool, good chat.” He sent everyone a thumbs up before briskly leaving the room, probably to find Pepper. 

“He sure has a way with words.” The guy, Pietro, said and his accent caught you unawares. It was rich and silky, like honey in your eyes, and you swear you would have melted into a puddle on the floor if it wasn’t for the kitchen counter you were currently sitting on. 

He shared a smile with his sister before she edged over to the floating red dude. Speaking of...

“Is no one going to introduce floating red guy?” You blurted out, not addressing anyone in particular but finding the entire teams' heads whip your way. 

“Oh right, yes of course, sorry-” Steve began, but floating red guy cut him off with a calm hand raised and landed back on the floor before walking over to you. 

“Allow me, my name is Vision. You are Y/N.” He said simply, holding out a flat palm. You regarded it, completely bewildered as to what you were supposed to do, give him a high five? 

“Um, nice to meet you...” You said and placed your palm on top of his, thinking it was maybe a custom of his, but when his palm began to rise and fall, you were even more at a loss.

“Are you trying to shake her hand?” A sudden voice from over your shoulder made you jump. Somehow, Pietro had moved silently behind you and was watching the strange exchange between you and Vision, his eyebrows furrowed in amusement. 

“Yes. Is that not a common human custom?” Poor Vision said, making Pietro laugh and shake his head. 

“It is, it’s just not whatever you were doing.” He chuckled, stepping in front of you and grasping your hand firmly in his. He began to shake it, but you couldn’t focus on anything except his warm hand in yours. “This is how you shake a hand, Vis.” He stated, continuing to still pump your hands. 

You looked up and saw him looking straight at you once more and you quickly pulled a reign in on your emotions. 

Cut it out, a guy like him would never be into you.

You withdrew your hand abruptly, ending your contact, and thought you noticed a small look of hurt cross Pietro’s face, but of course, there wasn’t one. 

At least, that’s what you told yourself. 

Without another word, you turned around and left the room, unable to stand another second with the boy with the brilliant blue eyes and killer watt smile. 

As the weeks passed, you tried to ignore Pietro, but it proved to be a near-impossible task. 

He always found a way to be around you. Whether it was matching his training schedule to yours, or eating at the same time as you each morning and night, he was always there. 

Slowly but surely, you could feel the inklings of a crush begin to form until they became so strong you were scared you’d accidentally blurt it out in front of him. He wasn’t exactly helping the situation either; he always sat a bit too close on chairs, his hugs lingered for a couple of seconds too long, an innocuous-seeming wink or a squeeze of his hands on your as you traded gym equipment or passed the salt. 

You tried to keep your distance. You kept your conversations brief and answers blunt to the point it became borderline rude. You felt bad, but you needed to keep that layer of animosity there, lest you and your stupid emotions accidentally cross a line. 

One day, just over a month since he and his sister arrived, he cornered you in the training room. 

“Can I ask you a question?” He began abruptly. You regarded him through between your legs as you were bent over trying to stretch them. You realised the current view he had and flushed, straightening up before answering a curt “If you must,” all the while ignoring his eyes. 

“Do you hate me?” He asked in such a simple manner it had you sputtering. 

“What? No, of course not.” You shook your head, still avoiding eye contact, even though you could feel his eyes burning holes in the back of your head. You pretended to be studying the weights intensely, hoping that he would give up and leave you alone. 

I far from hate you...

“Then why are you such a... bitch... to me?” He struggled to find the right word, but when he did, it shocked you. Your jaw dropped, as did the weight in your hand. It was heading straight for your toes but before it could crush them, he had raced over to you and stopped it in its tracks. 

In a blink, he was leaning on the weights rack next to you, toying with the dumbbell in his hands with ease. 

“I am not a bitch.” You clarified, feeling your face slowly redden and heat up. 

So much for thinking he didn’t notice or care. 

“Yes, you are. At least, to me you are.” He argued and he still had a cheeky smile plastered on his face, but you could see real hurt and confusion in his eyes. 

“I...I don’t know what you mean.” You mumbled, turning away from him but he caught your wrist. You glanced at him over your shoulder through lowered lashes. 

“Y/N, please. You can drop the act. I don’t know why you do it, but I know it’s not you.” His hand slowly slipped into yours as he stepped towards you, his fingers intertwining with your own. 

“Stop it.” You whispered, silently willing your legs to move but they wouldn’t. He held you prisoner in his gaze. Your heart was nearly beating through your chest, so loud you were certain he could hear it. 

“Tell me why.” He pleaded, his head dipping closer to yours and your eyes dropped to his lips, which were mere inches away. 

“I...” you began but your tongue became dry and your throat began to close. His proximity was driving you crazy, but although he was so close, he was still so far away. “I can't...”

No one like him could ever like someone like you. 

“That’s a shame because...” He let out a deep sigh and his other hand lifted to cup your face. “...because I like you. A lot.” His confession made you blanch. 

“Don’t say that.” You whipped your head away from his hand and pulled your other hand out of his grip. You were unable to look at him and his blue eyes for fear you would see the insincerity you were sure was there. 

“Y/N-” He reached out to you. 

“No.” You shook your head and began to back away from him. ‘You don’t mean it. Don’t say that.”

“I don't mean it?” His tone was laced with anger and frustration as he repeated what you said, making you flinch. “I don’t mean it?!” In a flash, he was directly in front of you again, towering over you. 

“Pietro, you...you can’t.” You whispered, your voice beginning to shake no matter how hard you tried to hide your emotions. “You can’t like me. You couldn’t.”

He gripped your chin and lifted your head so you could see his face and his narrowed eyes. 

“Who are you to tell me what I mean?” He breathed. “Who I can and can’t like? You don’t get to decide that. That’s my decision and mine alone.” 

He stepped closer to you and rested a hand on your waist, making you draw in a shaky breath. 

“Now, if you don’t like me back, that’s fine. I’ll stay away from you.” His voice shook as he announced that, but he steeled himself. “But don’t run from this because it scares you. It scares me too.” He rested his forehead against yours, stealing your breath away. 

“But you thinking I couldn’t love you... that scares me more.” 

Your eyes widened as you realised he was serious. Your heart began to rejoice and do flips in your chest. You were silent, at a loss for words as he studied your face. 

He took your silence as a refusal and his eyelids fell shut as his lips pulled into a grimace.

“Ok, I’ll leave. I’m sorry-” He was cut off by you grabbing his face and kissing him. 

Hard. 

He froze, and for a second you were scared he was going to take it all back and yell ‘fooled you!’ but he didn’t. He came to life under your hands and circled your waist in his arms, pulling you impossibly close. 

You were broken apart by his uncontainable grin, which you couldn’t help but return. 

“That went better than expected.” He breathed a laugh, keeping his forehead pressed against yours. 

“What did you expect?”  You questioned, tilting your head to the side. 

“Honestly? A slap.” He chuckled and you blushed once again. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a...” you thought about how best to describe your abrasive behaviour, but he filled in the gaps for you. 

“Bitch?” He supplied with a laugh and a raised brow. 

“Yeah, a major bitch.” You agreed, laughing with him at your own expense. “I just thought that... well, no one like you could ever...you know...like me or anything.” Your smile fell and he pressed a lingering kiss to your lips. 

“No one like me? An orphaned mutant from a city that no longer exists?” He shook his head and pressed a finger to your lips to stop your protests. “Listen here, princessa.” He stared deeply into your eyes and you felt his gaze caress your soul. 

“I think you are incredible. Beautiful. Amazing. Magical. Stunning. ” With each praise, he mapped your face with kisses. On your nose, your eyelids, your cheeks, your forehead, and finally on the corner of your mouth. “Please, don’t ever doubt that.” 

His words had brought tears to your eyes and you simply nodded, a smile tugging at your lips, and your heart feeling so full it could burst. 

A month had passed since you and Pietro had become ‘an item’, and every day was better than the last. You had fallen in love with him, and in the process, came to love yourself. 

Pietro, on the other hand, was like a giddy teenager. Constantly sneaking heated kisses and touches wherever you were, whether it was in the bedroom or under the table at breakfast, he couldn’t keep his hands off you. Or his eyes.

“Brother, if you don’t quit staring at Y/N you’re going to miss the entire movie,” Wanda said with a smirk one night as a group of you had settled down to watch a film.  You were curled up into his side with your legs tucked beneath you, and his arm was circling you, bringing you closer. 

You looked up to find that he was indeed staring at you. You grinned and pressed a kiss to his lips. 

“But she’s nicer to look at.” He stated simply with a smirk. He was met with a groan from nearly everyone in the room. 

“Yeesh, you guys make me sick.” Natasha fake gagged but sent you a playful smile and a wink anyway. 

“Yeah, get a room, you rabbits.” Tony quipped, making the rest of them laugh at your red face. 

That was one thing that hadn’t happened between you and Pietro. Sex. You had done everything but. It was beginning to make old doubts bubble to the surface. 

Maybe he realised he doesn’t like you like that... 

You scowled at the voice in your head before standing up abruptly. “I’m going to get some water.” You announced to no one in particular. You raced to the kitchen, ignoring the questioning eyes you left behind you. 

You were filling up a glass when you felt him behind you. As silent as a breeze yet as fast as a tornado. 

“What’s up?” He asked, his arms circling you from behind. You shook your head in answer, not trusting your voice to be steady. 

Pietro pressed a kiss to your neck, just below your ear. “Tell me, princessa.” 

You remained silent, taking a big sip from your water to give yourself time to formulate an answer. Before you could, however, Pietro seemed to have figured it out. 

“This is about what Tony said, isn’t it?” He realised. “Y/N, listen-”

“No, Pietro, stop.” You said suddenly, cutting him off. You turned around and twisted out of his arms, distancing yourself from him. “It’s okay if you don’t like me like that-”

“That’s not fair-”

“You don’t have to pretend-”

“You can’t be serious-”

“-that you like me.” 

“Stop.” He growled, rushing over to you and clamping a hand over your mouth. 

You stood in the kitchen, staring at each other, your eyes filled with different emotions. 

Yours with sadness, his with anger. 

“Now, we are going to continue this discussion in my room.” He stated in a deadly calm voice, and before you could protest, he had scooped you up and ran you to his room on the 41st floor, leaving you standing in the middle of the room. 

“Pietro-” You began, reaching out a hand to him but he silenced you with a look. 

“No. Listen to me, Y/N.” He rounded on you and began to advance towards you. “You’re so smart, but you’re also so fucking naïve sometimes.” He growled, stepping towards you, making you take a step back. 

You stayed silent, knowing better than to talk at this point. And also because you felt guilty about upsetting him. 

“I didn’t want you to think I was just using you for sex.” He explained, running a hand through his hair. He took another step towards you, and you mirrored him by taking yet another step back

Realisation dawned on you and you felt even more guilty if that was even possible. “I’m sorry, Pietro.” You whispered sincerely.“I didn’t realise-” 

“I’m sorry I made you doubt me.” He said, taking another step forward. “I’m even more sorry that this has taken so long.”

 The next steps you both took had you backed up into the wall, the cold plaster causing goosebumps to rise across your back. 

In the blink of an eye, he was pressing you against the wall with his hips and was holding your arms above your head, trapping you there. 

“Don’t you know what you do to me?” He whispered and ground his hips against yours. 

You could definitely feel what you were doing to him. 

“Please,” you gasped, feeling his lips ghost the shell of your ear. 

“I’m going to fuck you, princessa.” He promised and you let out a moan at his words. “But first, I’m going to worship you.” 

Without another word, he dropped to his knees in front of you and yanked down your jeans and panties before you could suck in another breath. He circled his arms around your thighs and pulled your legs over his shoulders. 

You carded a hand through his hair and he held eye contact with you as he pressed a kiss on the inside of both of your thighs before placing one straight over your core. Your hand tightened in his hair.

Pietro licked a stripe up your centre, flicking his tongue around your clit. You let out a moan and your head fell back against the wall, your eyes squeezed shut.

“Look at me, princessa.” He ordered, and you complied, regarding him through half closed eyes. “I want you to watch me as I make you cum with my mouth.” 

He delved into the heat between your legs, licking and sucking and nipping. You writhed against his mouth, biting your lip in an effort to keep quiet but it was no use. 

His tongue teased your entrance before suddenly sliding inside, creating a whole new sensation in you. You gasped and arched your back, driving his tongue further inside you. 

The sensation of a tidal wave of pure pleasure building in your lower stomach was torturing you, all brought on by the man between your legs and his magical tongue. You ached to have his fingers in you, or better yet, his dick. 

“Pietro,” You moaned, which made him look up at you in question, but he never took his mouth off you. “I need you inside me.” 

He just shook his head in response and you could feel him smirk against you.  His nose bumped against your clit, sending your head into a spin. 

“Please...” You groaned, but he ignored your requests and simply sped up his tongue, eager to bring you to orgasm. 

As he coaxed you closer and closer to the edge, your legs began to quiver around his head. His tongue delved in deeper and with a speed you knew was only possible with him. 

You tried to grind yourself against him but he held your hips still with a strong grip, only allowing you the pleasure he was willing to give to you. 

He sucked hard at your clit before biting down on your bundle of nerves ever so gently, and that was it. 

The knot in your stomach unravelled, and you along with it. It was impossible to keep your eyes open, and you screamed his name as your head tipped back against the wall.

Your legs shook as he carried you through your high with his tongue. The next thing you know, the softness of his comforter replaced the hard wall on your back and your head was nestled on a pillow. 

He’d carried you to his bed and laid you down softly, lying over you and caging you in with his arms. 

His eyes were filled with adoration, but also the hint of the hardness you knew always existed below the surface. 

“Do you still doubt me?” He asked, trailing a hand up your side and under your shirt. 

“It was never you I doubted.” You breathed, still trying to catch your breath after your mindblowing orgasm. 

His eyes widened infinitesimally and he sat up abruptly on his heels, looking down at you from between your legs. He pulled his shirt off in a single tug and your eyes dropped to his chest and abdominals. 

This man is a god.

He dipped back over you, arching his back into you as he ravaged your mouth with his own and ground his tracksuit-clad hips over your dripping pussy. You moaned into his mouth and traced his abs with your fingertips, earning a low groan in response. 

His hand cupped your heat, sending shivers down your spine and causing a litany of curses to leave your mouth. 

“Who did this to you, princessa?” He growled, slipping a finger between your folds. 

“Y-You did.” You managed to get out between hitched breaths. 

“And who is going to fuck you until you can’t walk?” He pushed down his pants and boxers until he was able to kick them off, leaving you both naked apart from your top.

���You are.” You breathed and allowed him to slide your top over your head and fling it across the room with great speed. 

“Who do you belong to?” He murmured against your skin, tracing his lips across the top of your breasts. You arched your back so he could unclip your bra and skillfully remove it from you. 

He sucked a nipple into his mouth and pinched the other, sending shockwaves to your core.

“You.” You answered, cupping his jaw and guiding his lips back to yours, where he met you with a punishing kiss. You could feel him lining up at your entrance and you wrapped your legs around his waist, encouraging him closer. 

“And who loves you?” He whispered as he slowly began to enter you. Your eyes widened and you sharpened your gaze on him in shock. 

“Wha-” He gripped your jaw and pressed his forehead against yours as he slowly entered you, never breaking eye contact. 

“I said,” With a single thrust, he buried himself in you completely, laying a firm hand on your pelvis to stop your hips from writhing against him in pleasure. “Who loves you?” 

He regarded you with such sincerity that you couldn’t return his intense stare, but the grip he had on your jaw refused to let you look away. 

“Tell me.” He demanded, not moving inside you. You swallowed your fears, doubts and insecurities and levelled his gaze with yours. 

“You do.” As you said it, you felt a smile overcome your features. “You love me.”

His eyes darkened with lust, and what you knew now to be love, and he kissed you passionately. You wrapped your hands around his biceps and gave yourself fully to him. 

He drew out of you and thrust in again slowly. The little discomfort you had felt at the beginning was melting away and sheer, toe-curling pleasure was taking over.

You were still sensitive from your last orgasm, so every drag of his hips and drive of his cock in you added quickly to the coiling behind your navel. 

You dug your nails into the flesh of his back as he continued his languid strokes. You could feel every vein of his member, its pulsating heat as it pushed and pulled you closer and closer to the edge. 

“You’re mine,” Pietro growled against your lips, his hand on your hip tightening so much that you knew there was going to be a bruise there tomorrow, but you relished in it. 

As if to prove his point, he traced a trail of kisses to your neck where he began to suck and nibble a large hickey. 

“All yours...only yours, Pietro.” You agreed in moans, running your hands through his hair and tugging when the sensations became too much. 

You were so close, and you told him so. 

“Hold on, princessa.” He groaned, his hand cupped your jaw so gently that it threw you off balance; the rough snaps of his hips and the loving stroke of his thumb on your jaw. 

“I want you to remember who made you like this, Y/N.” He said, his jaw clenching with the effort it took to hold off his impending orgasm. “Every time you close your eyes, you’re going to see me fucking you into the mattress.” 

His accent along with his dirty words made your eyes roll into your head and you were so close you were certain you were going to fall off the edge with his next thrust. 

“Say my name as you cum, baby.” He growled and the hand on your hip dipped to rub circles across your clit. 

You exploded. Or maybe imploded is the right word. 

His breath ghosting across your face as he whispered his native tongue to you, telling you to cum, his hand on your clit, his cock hitting spots in you that you didn’t know could cause so much pleasure... it was enough to bring tears to your eyes as your soul detached and shattered into a million particles. 

Like you were told, you screamed his name as you orgasmed, your hands scraping down his back and your legs shaking around his waist as he continued to thrust into you, spurring on the waves of pleasure that assaulted you. 

As you came down from your high, you caressed his face gently and looked deep into his eyes. 

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” You murmured over and over again before he captured your lips with his and emptied himself in you.

His eyes screwep up and he let out a loud moan as he too reached his climax. 

The last throes of your orgasm released you as he collapsed on top of you, his head buried in the crook of your neck. 

He rolled off you and onto his back, dragging you with him and pulling you until you lay across his chest, your head resting over his loudly beating heart and your arms wrapped around each other. 

“I love you, Y/N.” He whispered into your hair and you felt like you could fly away, you were that happy. 

“I love you too, Pietro.” You tilted your head up and he kissed you sweetly on the mouth. 

“That was something else.” He murmured as you both came up for air. 

“Yeah, it was pretty...” You struggled to adequately describe the sex you just had. 

“Mindblowing?” He offered with a cheeky grin. 

“Exactly. Mindblowing.” You agreed and tucked your head back under his chin. 

“You didn’t see that coming?” He questioned playfully. 

“A month ago, definitely not.” You stated, tracing circles on his chest. 

“And now?” He coaxed and this time it was you with the cheeky grin as you raised your head to look at him and hitched an eyebrow.

“Now...I wanna see how fast you really are.” You winked at him.

Pietro was suddenly the one blushing and flipped you onto your back in less than a second. 

“Oh, you’re on.” He laughed and attacked your mouth with his. 

You never doubted yourself after that. 

[littlemisslol-fic]

Like A Rowboat! Varian and Rapunzel (platonic), weight if the world?

Hey @newsiegirlscout!! thanks for the ask my dude! Sorry these took a little, irl got wacky yesterday! Hope you like em!

23. Weight of the World (Rowboats-Verse) 

When they’d first brought Varian home from Bayangor, Rapunzel had been terrified.

It was like they’d found a stranger in the halls of Barviel keep- someone wearing Varian’s face and using his voice, but a lot of the things Rapunzel loved were gone, buried so deep she was scared they’d never see the light of day again. She missed them, missed hearing her brother’s laughter- seeing his spark.

The princess sighed, looking up from the book she’d been ignoring and over to the sleeping figure of the boy next to her. Varian’s chest rose and fell softly, the boy long lost to sleep; Rapuznel found herself fixated on it. She could see the bandages peeking out from under his loose sleep shirt, wrapped tightly to keep his broken ribs from shifting worse than they already had. His hand- the fingers heavily splinted as well- rested gently on Ruddiger’s back. The raccoon had haunted the halls of Corona without his human, vanishing from sight every time Rapunzel had tried to catch him. Once Varian had returned, Ruddiger had crawled out of the woodwork once more, and set up shop in the infirmary like he belonged there.

With all the soot and ash washed away Varian almost looked normal- like nothing had happened- but Rapunzel knew better. Varian had been withdrawing into himself, Rapunzel could see it, the boy she loved dearly just… slipping away. It scared her, really and truly; the fear was a heavy weight she couldn’t seem to shake. It pulled her down, latching its claws into her and she couldn’t seem to pull free no matter what she did.

It had only been a few days since Varian had been brought home- he hadn’t spoken a word in nearly all that time. Rapunzel had tried to draw it out of him, had tried to make him laugh, anything to see him smile- but nothing had worked. Varian was sinking deeper and deeper- and Rapunzel had no idea how to bring him back to shore. 

She closed her book, setting in on her side table. With gentle hands she ran her fingers through his hair- still a wild bird’s nest as it always had been. At least Aldred hadn’t taken that from him- it was a small thing but at least Varian still looked like himself. 

Rapunzel had to hold back a coo as Varian leaned into her hand subconsciously; something in her sparked with hope. Her brother was still under there somewhere, under the cracks and the fractures and the armor- somewhere under the layers of hurt and history and pain, the Varian she knew was hiding, dormant, but alive.

She could see it in the sparks of his eyes, when he thought she wasn’t looking. She saw it in the tinies quirk of a smile when Lance said something funny. She saw it in the way he hugged Ruddiger close and kissed his little head. Varian was under there, under the rubble of what used to be his shields, and if Rapunzel had to dig him out bit by bit, then that was what was going to happen. 

It would be long, and arduous, and a lot of heavy lifting, but she would happily do it.

For Varian, she could carry the world.

1. Chocolate

“Hey kid, how’s it going?” 

Varian looks up from his work, blinking blearily. “Whazzat?” He asks, looking at the blurry figure standing in the doorway. His muddled, tired brain can’t really compute who this person is, the blurs all mix together into a rainbow of shapes and colour, but they seem familiar. 

“Oh, jeeze.” The voice says, and oh, it’s Eugene, duh. The figure walks closer, and the alchemist can finally start to pick out details. Like the two steaming mugs Eugene’s holding in his hands, the smell of chocolate wafting from them like a delicious essence.

“I came to give you a little pick-me-up,” Eugene laughs. He sets down the mugs- they make little clinks of porcelain on wood as they land on the tabletop. “But I think you need the opposite.” 

“Nah.” Varian mumbles, already going back to his research. “I’m good. I’m good.” 

“Sure, kid.” Eugene says; Varian doesn’t trust it for a second. The man drags a chair over and settles into it, propping his chin up on his hands and setting his elbows on the table. “So, what are we making?” 

“I am making a new type of Quirinian,” Varian says, pointing to a nearby burner, where the substance in question has been bubbling away for the better part of an hour. “If I can get it to be less volatile, I think we could use it in a lot more compact-” Varian cuts himself off with a yawn, rubbing at his eye with a fist, “...compact machines.” 

Eugene looks like he’s been faced with the smallest puppy physically possible- he looks like he has to choke back a coo. “Sounds like fun,” The man finally squeaks, “But it might be bedtime, maybe wait until tomorrow?”  

“Sleep is for the week.” Varian mutters, snagging one of the cups and taking a sip- oh, hot chocolate, Sun bless Eugene Fiztherbert. The brunet doesn’t seem convinced, but shrugs. He’s tried to fight this fight before- Varian is nothing if not stubborn enough to stay awake out of sheer spite- once Lance had tried to get him to sleep and in retaliation Varian had stayed awake for the better part of a week.

Eugene smiles, taking a drink from his own cup. Varian chugs the rest of the hot chocolate, reveling in the sweetness before setting his mug down and turning back to his calculations. 

“See, if I adjust the burn-” Yawn “-time, then… then something will happen.” 

Varian’s eyelids are so heavy- something in the way the warmth of the drink settles in his stomach makes his whole body feel that little more tired, like the exhaustion was growing worse. Not in an overly strange way, but just like all those stolen hours are catching up with him at once. Varian’s felt this before, his body straight up shutting down on him in protest. 

Eugene’s hand comes to rest on Varian’s upper back, rubbing softly between his shoulder blades. It feels nice. 

“C’mon kid,” The man chuckles, “Bedtime.”

“Mmmmmnah.” Varian mutters- the paper in front of him spins a bit. Maybe sleep was a good idea…

Eugene has to catch the kid as Varian almost tips over out of his chair. The alchemist is still light enough for Eugene to carry him, small miracles. Eugene manages to scoop him up with a small laugh and carry him from the lab. Outside the door, Rapuznel waits, leaning up against the wall with her face shrouded in worry. When she catches sight of the boys, her face splits into a smile, laughing softly.

“I guess your idea worked.” Rapunzel coos, reaching up a hand and running it through Varian’s hair. The boy snuffles into Eugene’s shoulder- Rapunzel presses a squeal into her palm. Eugene smiles at his wife, gently adjusting his precious cargo.

“I told ya, sunshine.” The man says, “Warm drink gets him every time. Give him some hot chocolate and boom, out like a light.” 

Rapunzel smiles, pressing a kiss to Eugene’s cheek. “Well, thank you.” She says, “Now, let’s get him into bed.” 

“Lead the way, my love.”

[mikauzoran]

Adrienette: Serendipity: Fifty Marichat and Adrienette Kisses: Kiss Four

Serendipity: Fifty Marichat and Adrienette Kisses: ...where it hurts.

“Dude,” Nino sighed, the word soft and affectionate yet slightly exasperated.

Adrien raised a hand in greeting. “Morning.”

Nino frowned. “Why are you leaning up against Marinette’s locker?”

A sheepish smile tugged at Adrien’s lips. “I figured it was the most-likely place where I’d run into Marinette?”

Nino shook his head, taking off his baseball cap to run a hand through his hair. “Do you think this is a good idea, Mec?”

Adrien shrugged. “Meh. I mean, she said she’d bring pastries yesterday before the whole trying to kiss her fiasco, so…”

“Mec,” Nino groaned plaintively.

Adrien held up his hands at chest level. “Hey, it will only make things awkward if I avoid her. Isn’t it better to just bite the bullet and try to repair the friendship right away?”

Nino sighed again, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I don’t know, Adrien. It just seems like you’re ripping the bandage off awfully quick.”

“Nino, I promise you I’m fine.” Adrien gave Nino’s foot a light kick.

“You weren’t fine when I saw you less than twelve hours ago,” Nino grumbled.

“I’m better now that I got it all out of my system.” Adrien smiled disarmingly.

Nino snorted. “…You do look better than I expected, but I’m chocking that up to your parents selling their souls to the devil in exchange for the perfect offspring incapable of ever looking unattractive.”

Adrien rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew how much makeup I’m wearing. If I slept thirty minutes last night, I’d be surprised.”

Nino cocked an eyebrow in suspicion. “Weren’t you convincing me that you were fine?”

“I’m totally fine,” Adrien replied with a winning smile.

Nino pursed his lips. “Adrien, you know I care about you, right? I just want you to be okay.”

The smile dropped from Adrien’s lips, replaced by complete sincerity as he reached out to rest a hand on Nino’s shoulder. “Of course I do. Don’t worry, Nino. I swear it’s going to be fine. I’m fine. For real.”

He wished he could tell his best friend that this was because his superhero alter ego was actually the boyfriend in question, but he knew that was impossible. Ladybug was still adamant that secret identities needed to remain absolutely secret, and he could kind of see what she meant on a larger scale. He didn’t think that they should tell everyone, but…he couldn’t help but think that the people closest to him like Marinette and Nino and even Ladybug herself should know. …But regardless of his opinion on the matter, his hands were tied.

“Thanks, Nino. You’re the best friend a guy could ask for,” he added earnestly.

With another sigh, Nino reached out to ruffle Adrien’s hair. “If you say so, Mec.”

The locker room door burst open, startling and silencing everyone so that Alya’s roar echoed even louder against the absence of ambient noise.

“—all night!” Alya concluded, holding the door open for Marinette who slunk in behind her best friend, looking like she’d rather be fighting the Nemean lion than dealing with Alya.

“So your phone better be broken, Girl, because I know you weren’t screening my calls,” Alya snorted. There was a thinly veiled threat in there.

Marinette shrank, keeping her darkly circled eyes on the ground as she made her way to her locker. “I’m really sorry, Alya. I wasn’t feeling well, so I turned my phone off and went to bed early. I didn’t get your voicemails until this morning.”

Alya clicked her tongue, clearly not satisfied with the excuse. “So? If you got my voicemails this morning, you know I know you’ve been holding out on me. I want details on this secret boyfriend of yours.”

“Al?” Nino groaned, drawing Alya off the scent and alerting her to her surroundings. “Baby, I love you, but right now probably isn’t the best time to be hounding this particular scoop.”

Alya blinked, just then registering all the people staring at the scene she’d caused. She looked to her boyfriend and then to Adrien at his side.

Adrien gave her a sheepish finger wave.

Alya grimaced.

Marinette, seeing Adrien, went as white as rice paper. She took a step back and tripped, fumbling the bag of pastries she’d had in her hand, sending it soaring in a high arc.

With the speed of a fencer’s lunge, Adrien sprang forward to catch Marinette around the waist, steadying her.

With his other hand, he snatched the pastry bag out of the air to a round of applause from the spectators.

“Ten points!” Alix announced.

Adrien didn’t seem to notice. His attention was solely on Marinette. “You okay?” He anxiously scanned her face, currently frozen in shock.

She blinked and, then, all of the sudden, jolted back to life, breaking out of his hold and spluttering, “Yes! S-Sorry. I’m such a klutz. I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” he called softly, giving her a tender smile. “No worries. It’s okay.” He held out the pastry bag for her to take back.

“Oh.” She blinked at it. “That’s for you, actually. If you want it, that is.” Biting her lip, Marinette met his gaze, her eyes filled with apprehension and uncertainty. “I’m sorry. I—”

“—Marinette,” he cut her off, not letting his reassuring smile waver, trying to show her that everything was fine. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“I…don’t?” Her eyes rapidly searched his face.

He shook his head. “Nope, but I’m more than happy to accept your peace offering.” He held up the bag of pastries like a prize. “But, actually…could we talk?” He tipped his head towards the locker room door.

She looked behind her, confused for a second. “Oh! Out there?”

He nodded, trying to just get through the awkwardness of the interaction so that his civilian self could be friends with his girlfriend once more. “If you don’t mind?”

“Of course! Not at all.” Marinette whipped around and nearly tripped again as she attempted to make her way towards the school courtyard.

Behind her back, Adrien winced, wishing things could just go back to normal already.

Nino gave him a thumbs up, and Alya mouthed, “good luck” as Adrien turned to go, feeling, oddly, like he was being led to his execution.

Marinette cleared the doorway and looked back at Adrien for direction.

“Over here.” He led her to one of the benches off on the sidelines of the basketball court.

They both sat, and, partially to break the ice, partially to give his hands something to do, Adrien peeked inside the pastry bag.

“Wow,” he breathed. “Two pain au chocolat, one croissant, a pain au raisin, and three chouquettes! Maybe I should completely humiliate myself and let you break my heart more often if this is my consolation prize.”

Marinette flinched, averting her gaze. “I am so sorry.”

“Too soon to joke about it?” Adrien deflated, fishing out a pain au chocolat and taking a bite.

“You’re wonderful, Adrien—really wonderful—but my boyfriend is wonderful too, and I just…I picked him, and I can’t go back on that decision,” she replied in a burst. “…He deserves someone as awesome as he is, and the very least I can do is be faithful. I’m sorry.”

“You say that like you don’t think you’re awesome,” Adrien hummed thoughtfully before taking another bite of his pastry.

Marinette shrugged, still not looking at him. “I’m pretty great…just not…” She shook her head. “…I admire him a lot. There’s a lot to admire.”

It took some considerable amount of effort on Adrien’s part not to choke. “…I’m sure he’s not perfect, Marinette.”

She shrugged again. “No, but he’s good…just a really good person and so sweet and thoughtful. Yeah, he can be impulsive and childish…sometimes he doesn’t think before he says or does something, but all the negatives are so small compared to the positives, so…”

“Maybe you’ll change your mind once you’ve been dating longer,” Adrien muttered into his pastry. As much as it thrilled him to hear his girlfriend speak so well of him, at the same time, it was intimidating. Adrien was aware that he had self-esteem issues, but he couldn’t help but worry that he wouldn’t be able to live up to Marinette’s high opinion.

“Sore loser much, Agreste?” Marinette snorted.

Adrien cringed, casting her a sidelong look. “Maybe? I mean, can you really blame me for being a little bitter after losing out on a treasure such as yourself? …Wanna share my pastries?” He held out the bag with a boyish grin.

Marinette snorted again, this time in amusement. “Thanks.” She chose one of the chouquettes. “…You said you wanted to talk?”

“Right,” Adrien sighed, setting the pastry bag down between them. “I owe you an apology.”

Startled, Marinette looked up. “For what?”

“Seriously? There’s a list,” he chuckled self-deprecatingly. “First of all, I’m sorry I tried to kiss you. Please believe me when I say I never would have done that if I hadn’t thought you wanted to be kissed. Obviously, I read the situation between us completely wrong, but I wouldn’t—”

“—Adrien, it’s okay. I know,” she broke in to assure him, reaching out and taking hold of his wrist. “…And you didn’t read the situation wrong.” She let go, looking away once more in shame.

“O-Oh?” He hadn’t anticipated that response when he’d prepared what he was going to say.

She shook her head. “I’ve had a crush on you for a while. That’s what I meant when I said that I did like you. Giving up on you and getting a boyfriend is a kind of recent thing, so…you didn’t read anything wrong. It’s just that I’m with him now, so you and I can only be friends.” Tentatively, she peeked back at him. “I’m sorry things worked out like this.”

“Don’t be,” he gently urged, giving her a winning smile. “I’m okay. You’re such a good friend, Marinette, and I never want to lose that with you. Your friendship is really special to me.”

A cherry blossom blush spread across her cheeks, matching the soft smile moving on her lips. “Really?” she breathed.

“Really, really,” he chuckled. “You underestimate how precious friendship is for someone who grew up without it.”

“Oh, Adrien,” Marinette whispered, flattered even as her heart ached for him.

Unexpectedly, he winced. “Please don’t tell Chloé I said that. She’d throw the fit of the century, and I don’t want to hurt her. She is my friend…just…” He looked up at her, throwing himself on her mercy with pleading peridot eyes.

Marinette nodded, giving his arm a reassuring pat. “She won’t hear about it from me. I know you two have a complicated relationship.”

“Thank you.” He reached into the pastry bag and pulled out the other pain au chocolat, offering it to her while he took the pain au raisin for himself. “So…we’re okay?”

She took the pastry and nodded. “So long as you don’t hate me, I’m all for carrying on as if last night didn’t happen. I can’t stand it when things are awkward and tense with you.”

“Yeah, I was dying in the locker room earlier,” he admitted. “The thought of things going back to the way they were when we were fourteen and you couldn’t string two sentences together around me makes me just sick.”

She gave a snort of laughter, tapping her foot against his. “Those days are safely behind us; don’t worry.”

A tenable silence fell between them for nearly a minute as they worked on their respective pastries.

Hesitantly, Adrien broke it. “Marinette?”

“Hm?” She tipped her head interrogatively.

“There’s just one problem,” he sighed.

Her eyebrows pinched together, her eyes darting around his face, searching in confused apprehension.

He met her gaze with an expression of unwavering sincerity. “I’m genuinely crazy about you, and that’s not something I’m going to get over.”

Her lips parted in a soft gasp, but she had no words with which to reply.

He smiled sadly. “I’ve only been in love once before, and even though it’s been three years, I’m still not really over her. I know you probably don’t want to hear this, and I know I’m showing my hand, but I want to be honest with you. I love you at least as much as I did my first love, so I’m not anticipating moving on any time soon. Is that something you can live with, or have I completely ruined our friendship?”

He gritted his teeth and awaited the fall of the metaphorical axe. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hide his feelings from her, especially now that they were dating. He knew he was going to be a lovesick mess around her as Adrien. It was better to deal with the issue up front.

Meanwhile, Marinette’s heart was wavering hard, wondering if she’d made a mistake.

How did one tell Adrien Agreste no when he’d just confessed his love so prettily to her?

Chat Noir’s face flashed in her mind, his adoring eyes and soft smile…so caught up in her. It reignited her resolve to be faithful. Chat was more than worth this. She wanted to be with him.

Marinette reached out and took Adrien’s hand, promising, “First and foremost, I will always be your friend.”

He blew out a sigh of relief, smiling broadly as he squeezed her hand. “Thank you.”

She squeezed back, her heart fluttering as she was reminded how beautiful and sweet and earnest he was.

“I know that no means no, and I’m going to do my best to respect that, but you should know that I’m probably not going to give up hope,” he warned. “So, if I ever do or say anything that you don’t like or that makes you uncomfortable, please say something. I am not a socially adept individual, so please, please tell me if I ever cross a line. I don’t want to screw things up with you,” he stressed, eyes entreating.

“Well, we haven’t had any problems so far,” Marinette reasoned, even though she could feel the shift between them now that their feelings for one another were out in the open. Oddly enough, knowing where she stood with Adrien had only made her feel like they were on unsteady ground.

“But you’ll tell me?” Adrien pressed. “The moment I do something wrong.”

Marinette nodded. “I’ll tell you. And that goes both ways. You tell me if I do anything that makes you uncomfortable too.”

“Deal,” he agreed, holding out his little finger for a pinkie swear.

Chuckling, she wrapped her pinkie around his, promising, “Deal.”

“Now that that’s all settled, may I escort the princess to her classroom?” Adrien inquired, standing and giving Marinette a courtly bow.

She gave a snort of laughter but got up and took his proffered hand, her earlier bad mood finally lifting for good. “All right, but I need to stop by my locker first.”

After the requisite locker run, Marinette was delivered to her desk on Adrien’s arm, much to the astonishment of their whole class.

As Marinette took her seat, Adrien bowed once more. “Thank you for the honor of your companionship, Your Royal Highness.”

Marinette laughed, rolling her eyes and half-heartedly swatting at him. “You’re such a goof.”

Straightening up, Adrien grinned. “Anything to make you smile.”

He was treated to the added bonus of Marinette’s flustered blush before he turned on his heel and settled into his own desk in front of her.

Across the aisle, Chloé clicked her tongue. “Adri-chou, you have deplorable taste in women.”

He shrugged, pulling out his phone to type, “We have the same taste in women.”

Chloé hissed down at her screen before looking back up to hurtle a Medusa-esque glare at her oldest friend.

She was intercepted by Adrien holding out the Tom and Sabine’s bag.

“Want a pastry? Two chouquettes and a croissant left.” He smiled that smile that he knew no one could resist.

Her fury extinguished itself, but she didn’t let up on the act, snatching the bag away from him with a vicious snort. “Pastries make you fat.”

“You and I would still be gorgeous fat,” Adrien returned the volley easily.

Chloé thought for a minute.

“True,” she decided, digging in without reserve.

“…You still have rubbish taste in women,” she repeated after the pastries were dispatched, purely to save face.

 The day passed in a rather uneventful fashion until the period before lunch. Miss Bustier was out for the week at a conference, so they had a substitute for Literature.

“Could the class representative help me pass out these worksheets?” the university-aged sub asked, looking around the room, trying to determine to whom she needed to direct her request.

Marinette stood, raising her hand. “That’s me, Madame. With pleasure.” She trotted up to the front and took the stack of worksheets from the teacher, dutifully distributing them to her classmates.

Chloé took hers with a disdainful sniff, but Adrien treated her to one of his trademark winks, making Marinette smile and laugh softly.

When she got to the very back of the classroom, she set Lila’s worksheet down on the desk without making eye contact or exchanging a word.

“I bet you think you’re so great because Adrien’s paying a little attention to you today,” Lila hissed so softly that Marinette barely heard over the teacher’s lecture.

“Hm?”

She’d been in the act of stepping down to the next tier of desks, so when she turned back at Lila’s words without thinking, she missed the step, catching the lip of it with her heel and torqueing her ankle.

She went down with a yelp, hitting her right shoulder and arm hard as she tried to shield her face from the edge of the lower platform coming up at her fast.

Adrien got to her first amidst gasps and calls of, “Marinette!” from their classmates, but Alya was a close second.

“Is she all right?” Rose cried in alarm, getting to her feet to peer down anxiously at her friend.

“I don’t see any blood,” Kim offered a preliminary report, scanning the area.

“Marinette, hey,” Adrien breathed, holding up his hands ineffectually to try to help as Marinette pushed herself up to sitting with a sharp intake of breath, eyes screwed closed in pain.

“Where’s it hurt?” Alya demanded as she crouched beside Adrien, looking over his shoulder in the cramped aisle. “Are you okay? Is it broken?”

“I’ll call the nurse!” the substitute teacher announced, flustered, trying to recall what the protocol was for an accident. “Or maybe an ambulance? The principal. I’ll call the principal.”

“Adrien, do you want me to call my doctor?” Chloé offered, pulling out her phone.

Lila rolled her eyes. “I’m sure she’s fine. Marinette trips all the time, don’t you, Marinette?”

“She is not fine,” Alya snapped at the same time Adrien shot Lila a look that promised to end her.

Lila wilted and shut up.

Adrien’s attention was instantly back on his injured girlfriend. “Marinette, do you want Chloé to call her doctor? Where’s the pain? How bad is it?”

“No,” Marinette finally managed through gritted teeth. “…I’m fine. …Just a rough landing.”

“Can you get up?” Adrien coached, resting a hand at the small of her back where he was certain she wasn’t injured.

“Maybe. I twisted my ankle,” she reported, wincing as she maneuvered so that her right leg was no longer folded underneath her.

She straightened her leg and hissed as she tried to circle her ankle.

“Maybe don’t do that,” Nino suggested from where he stood behind Alya.

“It doesn’t look broken,” Ivan offered, drawing on his past experiences with broken arms.

“It’s swelling, though,” Alya observed.

“It probably just needs to be wrapped and iced,” Marinette decided as the sharpness of the pain began to recede. “I’ll just go to the nurse’s office. No need for an ambulance, but thanks for offering to call your doctor, Chloé.”

Chloé snorted, crossing her arms and looking away. “It’s not like I did it for you or anything.”

Adrien looked back over his shoulder with a grateful smile. “Thank you, Chloé. That was really great of you.”

“I am very magnanimous,” Chloé preened, giving her ponytail a flip.

“Very!” Sabrina cheered. “You’re so generous, Chloé!”

“Think you can stand?” Adrien held out a hand to help Marinette up.

It was a bit of a production, getting her to her feet, and, once she was there, they quickly discovered that she couldn’t put her full weight on her right foot to stand, let alone walk.

“Here. Put your arms around my neck,” Adrien instructed.

Marinette startled and nearly fell over. “W-What?!”

Adrien’s hands went to her hips to steady her. “Sorry. I’m going to carry you to the nurse’s office. Would you please put your arms around my neck?”

“O-Oh,” Marinette mumbled, complying with his request with a blush and averted eyes. “Thanks, Adrien…. Sorry.”

“No need for apologies,” he assured, gingerly scooping her up into a bridal carry.

Nino got the classroom door for them, and Adrien waited until it was closed behind them to whisper, “I’m more than happy to play your knight in shining armor, Princess.”

Marinette tensed, causing Adrien to immediately backpedal. “I am so sorry. Did I make things weird?”

“…No,” Marinette murmured into his chest. “I don’t mind the flirting. It’s fine. It’s fun. So long as we both know that things between us have to stay platonic, it doesn’t hurt anything. Plenty of friends flirt like that just for fun or to be silly. It’s just…‘Princess’ is what my boyfriend calls me…so it feels wrong for you to call me that too.”

Adrien hummed thoughtfully as he made his way over to the stairs and carefully began his descent. “…How about ‘Ohime-sama’?”

Marinette scrunched up her nose and brow in a frown. “What’s that mean?”

“It’s Japanese,” he explained haltingly, trying to keep his breath. It was a lot harder when he wasn’t transformed. “It’s pretty much the same as calling you ‘Princess’….without technically stealing your boyfriend’s nickname…. Is that fair?”

She considered this for a moment before nodding. “That’s fair. …It’s funny that you both came up with the same thing, though, don’t you think?”

How he wished he could just tell her.

He’d have to talk to Ladybug. Surely, they could make exceptions now that they were older and one of them was entering into what Adrien hoped would be a serious, long-term relationship. If Marinette deigned to marry him, Adrien couldn’t be running off in the middle of the night, leaving his wife and children during graveyard shift akuma attacks. Telling Marinette was just practical at this point, and Ladybug was bound to see sense.

For the time being, Adrien replied with a chuckle. “Maybe he and I are a lot alike.”

Marinette opened her mouth to assure him that they weren’t, but then realized that he was right. If she took them at face value, Chat Noir and Adrien Agreste’s public personas were decidedly different, but if she considered them as she had gotten to know them over the years…the two young men she adored were remarkably similar in all the ways that really counted.

“Yeah,” she answered quietly. “You are, really. The real yous are.”

Adrien’s heart fluttered.

He hoped she couldn’t hear it, or, if she could, that she just attributed it to the fact that he was currently in the middle of carrying her across the school to the nurse’s office off the side of the gym.

Adrien decided to steer the conversation away from flirty discussions of nicknames and boyfriends and ways in which Adrien and Chat Noir were similar. “Hey. Did she push you?”

“Hm?” Marinette lifted her head from his chest. “Did who push me?”

“Lila,” Adrien clarified with a bit of a growl. “Did she make you trip?”

“Oh.” Marinette looked away with a blush and a sigh. “No. Not intentionally. That was all me.”

“‘Not intentionally’?” Adrien probed.

Marinette shook her head. “She whispered something catty about you paying attention to me or something. I didn’t really hear, so I started to turn back to ask her what she’d said, but I was in the middle of going down the steps, so… You know me: graceful as a gazelle. I just lost my footing and faceplanted. She may have meant to hurt my pride or something, but she didn’t intend for me to physically get hurt.”

She could feel Adrien’s muscles relax somewhat, even as they remained taut enough to support her.

“Oh,” he breathed. “Okay then.”

“Why?” she inquired curiously. “What would you have done if she had tripped me?”

“Scratched her eyes out,” Adrien snorted, coming up in front of the nurse’s office door and cautiously maneuvering to work the knob without jostling Marinette too much.

Marinette couldn’t help but chuckle. “My hero. You could definitely take her in a cat fight.”

“Cat fights are my specialty,” he snickered. “Chloé taught me everything I know.”

Marinette laughed a little harder as Adrien opened the door and awkwardly walked them inside.

“I’m glad you’re laughing,” Adrien remarked quietly, voice warm with relief. “It makes me think you’re not hurt that badly.” He shut the door behind them with some difficulty.

“I’m okay, Adrien,” Marinette assured. “…but thanks for worrying about me.”

“Sure thing.” He held back the urge to kiss the side of her head.

“It doesn’t look like anyone’s here,” Marinette observed with a sigh of disappointment, breaking Adrien out of his distraction.

“Madame Danville must have gone to lunch already.” Adrien spotted a chair over by the medicine cabinets and began walking towards it. “Here. Let’s get you settled, and then we’ll figure something out.”

With Marinette’s okay, Adrien helped to ease her down into the chair.

He unlocked his phone and handed it to her. “Could you call Chloé and have her get someone to track down Madame Danville? I’m going to see if I can scrounge up something to wrap your ankle with. The least I can do is preform first aid while we wait for the professionals.” He went over to the cabinets and drawers and began his search.

“You know first aid?” Marinette inquired in surprise as she navigated his favourite contacts menu.

Adrien quickly located the bandages and knelt down in front of Marinette to begin wrapping her ankle. “Don’t sound so astonished,” he chuckled as he delicately slipped off her ballet flat and no-show sock. “With the akuma attacks sometimes getting a little intense, Nathalie and I convinced my father that I should at least know the basics.”

“All right,” Marinette hummed, intrigued. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Adrien began to wrap as Marinette talked to Chloé.

After several passes with the bandages, he looked up with a frown. “Am I hurting you?”

Marinette shook her head. “Thanks, Chloé.”

Adrien’s eyes narrowed. “You keep squirming.”

“It tickles,” she whined, setting his phone down on the countertop next to them.

He did his best to hold in a chuckle. “Oh, is that all?”

“I’m really ticklish.” She crossed her arms in a pout.

He kept smiling. “So long as I’m not hurting you.”

“You’re not,” she assured with a sigh. “…Thank you. For all of this.”

“My pleasure.” He tucked the end of the bandage under and scooted back a bit to survey his work.

“I’m impressed,” Marinette chuckled. “You really do know first aid after all.”

He shrugged, pushing himself up to his feet and going back to the cabinets. “Thank you. I strive for perfection.”

“What are you doing now?” She watched him curiously as he went through the drawers and overhead cabinets again.

“Looking for…an ice pack,” he finished as he drew out a small, white refillable ice bag with a blue clamp on the end. “This will help with the swelling and pain,” he explained as he went over to the mini fridge on the other side of the counter and got some ice out of the freeze portion.

He paused in front of her, trying to think of the best way to set things up. “We should probably also elevate your ankle. That will help with swelling too.”

“You really do know what you’re talking about,” Marinette observed, pleasantly surprised.

“I told you I did, didn’t I?” Adrien chuckled as he went to fetch another chair, picking it up and setting it down in front of her so that she could prop her foot up on the seat. He laid the ice pack down across her ankle. “Technically, they say you should elevate the injury above your heart, but I don’t know how we would…” He frowned. “…unless…You’re pretty flexible, right?”

She raised an eyebrow uncertainly. “Yeah. Why?”

“Feel free to say no, but…if I sat down in the chair in front of you, and you kind of slouched, you could rest your foot up on my shoulder. Is that a weird idea?” He grimaced, hoping she would be kind in her rejection.

She laughed affably, a smile spreading across her lips. “I mean, yeah. It’s a weird idea, but if elevating my ankle above my heart is going to help reduce swelling, I’m down to try it out. I’d like to heal up as fast as possible.”

Adrien nodded. “Right. Okay, then. Let’s…” Carefully, he raised Marinette’s right leg, sliding into the chair in front of her and gently setting the ankle down on his shoulder, adjusting the ice pack to its new position.

Marinette slid down a bit in her seat and propped her other leg up on the arm of Adrien’s chair.

“Are you comfortable enough?” Adrien asked attentively.

Marinette shrugged and smiled. “Not bad. You?”

“Not bad,” he echoed. “How’s the pain?”

She fluttered her hand in a “so-so” motion. “It’s tapering off for now. I’m sure it will still hurt to walk on later, but I’ll take some painkillers and soldier through it. I have some in my purse.”

Her eyes suddenly widened in terror. “I left my purse in the classroom!”

Adrien blinked, not understanding why the realization demanded this level of intensity. “I’m sure Alya has it.” He tried to be comforting as he motioned to his phone on the counter next to her. “If you want, you can text her to bring it to you during lunch. Class should be wrapping up in about thirty minutes.”

Observing that this did nothing to reassure his girlfriend, he offered, “Or I could go get it for you?”

Her face lit up. “Would you? Please?”

“Yeah. Absolutely.” He carefully extracted himself and set out on his mission, coming back with both of their belongings.

“Here we go.” He handed her her purse before getting back into position as her footrest.

“I’m sorry,” she replied meekly, eyes averted. “I know it’s silly, but I just feel so anxious without it.”

“No worries,” he assured. “I have things like that too that I need to have with me or I feel uneasy.”

Her eyes widened slightly in surprise. “You do?”

He nodded, raising his hips so that he could pull the lucky charm she had given him three years previously out of his pocket. With a sheepish smile, he held it up. “Remember this?”

She gasped. “You don’t still have that.”

“Oh, but I do,” he chuckled, slipping it back into his pocket. “Is that weird?”

She shook her head. “I still have mine too. I have a black cat plushie sitting on my desk by my computer monitor, and the charm bracelet is sitting on top like a flower crown. I look at it every day.”

“Oh,” Adrien breathed. He had seen it on the many occasions Chat Noir and Adrien had visited Marinette’s room, but he’d thought that it had been set down and left there, forgotten, swallowed up in the milieu of the chaos that often was her desk. He’d thought that she’d stopped seeing it like he’d long ago stopped seeing the many games and books and CDs on his shelves.

It was really nice to learn that something he had given her was still important.

“Is there anything else you have to have with you to keep you from feeling anxious?” Marinette wondered, her oceanic eyes catching his.

He smiled sheepishly. “It’s not something I have to have with me, but…my mother’s picture. I have to say goodnight to it or I can’t sleep. A couple times after a late-night shoot, I’ve come staggering in and have almost fallen asleep while getting ready for bed, so I’ve forgotten to say goodnight to Maman, but, then, once I get in bed, I’m suddenly uneasy and can’t fall asleep. I have to get out of bed and go say goodnight to her before I can fall asleep. Is that weird?” His brow crinkled as he tried to laugh at himself. “I mean, I know I have mommy issues, but…”

“It’s not weird,” Marinette answered firmly, banishing his doubts. “It’s sweet. Your relationship with your mom is really sweet, Adrien. She’s important to you, so it’s not weird for you to keep parts of her alive like that. It’s normal…like my mom burning incense for family members on birthdays and holidays and death anniversaries. It’s good for you to stay connected to your mom in little ways like that.”

It took a minute for her words to process, but when they did, a shy smile slowly broke out on his lips. “Thank you, Marinette. That means a lot to me.”

She shrugged, returning his smile with a soft one of her own. “Glad I could help.”

The conversation lulled for a few minutes before drifting into a discussion of Marinette’s latest project for Jagged Stone.

“You are so amazing,” Adrien gushed. “I am seriously such a fanboy. Everything you make is wonderful.”

Marinette snorted in laughter. “I’m not that good. I do mess up from time to time. Everyone does.”

“But the way you recover from failure is amazing,” Adrien stressed. “And I’m sure you’re going to work the kinks out of Jagged’s outfit specifications for the festival and produce a killer illustration for his next album. I have complete faith in you, Marinette.”

“I wish I did too,” she sighed. “But thank you. I really appreciate the encouragement. I needed that.”

“Any time,” he assured. “Speaking of time, I think we’ve had your ankle on ice for about twenty minutes. We should probably take it off for a bit. We’ll put it back on later.”

Marinette nodded, trusting that he knew what he was talking about. “Sounds good.”

He took off the ice pad and handed it to her for her to put up on the counter.

She bit her lip. “How’s it looking? Can you tell with the bandages on?”

“Meh,” he reported. “I mean, I can tell that it’s swollen, but it’s not too bad from what I can see. How’s the pain?”

“Meh,” she sighed. “It’s a dull pain, not sharp like when I first twisted it. I think I’ll live.”

“That’s a relief,” Adrien chuckled. “I’d be heartbroken all over again if you died of a twisted ankle.”

Marinette rolled her eyes and snorted. “I’d die again of embarrassment if I died of a twisted ankle.”

“You know…” Adrien eyed the ankle resting on his shoulder thoughtfully. “When I was little and scrapped a knee or an elbow or a palm or something, my mother used to do this thing, and it made it feel better. It’s silly, but I think that’s the point. Wanna try?”

“Sure,” she agreed gamely. “What do we do?”

Adrien turned his head and tenderly pressed his lips to the bone of Marinette’s ankle, sending a jolt straight up her leg to the rest of her body. She could feel herself heating up.

“Now,” Adrien announced, “we take the pain…” He made a show of taking the “pain” to the side of Marinette’s ankle in his fist. “…and throw it away.” He mimed tossing it towards the trashcan by the door.

Marinette broke out in giggles, cheeks still red from the brush of his lips. “You’re right. That is really silly.”

“Did it make you feel better?” He looked at her with shining innocent eyes.

Her heart melted. “Tons.”

She loved it when he smiled.

[crazywritingbug]

Scars - Leonardo

2016 Leonardo x Fem!Reader

So this is an series idea I am playing with so this oneshot is my test run if you will! Let me know what you think in extreme detail. (Especially you @missbeautyandherbeast, you’re my favorite TMNT writer)

Also while I picture this as 2016 TMNT, feel free to use whichever version you prefer! As with all my works, this is SFW even if is angsty.

Leonardo had failed. He knew it the moment he saw the blood dripping down her face and off her chin to splatter to the ground thirty stories below. Three cuts, slicing their way from the edge of Y/N’s pale face inwards toward her raspberry red lips, just barely missing her left eye. 

“Make a move and I drop the girl.” The Shredder didn’t really need to say so. Not with how he held her over the edge of the building, her feet dangling. Leo couldn’t breathe. His failure to protect the one girl he loved had caused this. He’d caused this.

“We can take him,” Raphael muttered from his spot beside Leo. He was tense, ready to attack, probably tired of holding back as Leo had commanded. But he wasn’t ready to risk her life further. Not that Raph knew why. None of them knew about Y/N. She’d been Leo’s secret, his solace, and his light for the past year. He wasn’t going to go into this with some kind of plan. If only he could think clearly enough to come up with one. To come up with some way to break this standoff and save her. Then his gaze met hers and his racing heart skipped a beat at the fear that stirred there.

“Leo…” She spoke, her voice faint from the Shredder’s grip on her throat. “I trust you.”

His racing thoughts stilled. She trusted him. After the way that her ex had treated her, her trust didn’t come easy. But Y/N trusted him. Even if he was the reason she was here, she trusted him to save her. That was all he needed to hear and all he needed to know. He wouldn’t fail her this time.

“You get him.” Leo adjusted his grip on his katanas, slid them into their sheaths. “I’ll get her.” He bolted into action, towards the Shredder. At that moment, every detail came into focus and time slowed.

The Shredder’s release of her neck.

Her H/C locks flying up as she fell down and the air rushing around him as he leaped after her, reaching for her.

The building rushing by.

Fingertips brushing.

The fear in her eyes. 

The ground growing closer.

Then he had her and the world sped up again. 

Pulling her close against him, Leo yanked the grappling gun from his belt and fired it at the building. His shoulder and arm screamed in protest as their descent stopped, swinging towards the building instead. This was going to hurt. Twisting, Leo took the impact on his shell. Glass and metal gave way, letting them tumble painfully into the empty office building. Thank NYPD for evacuating the building. Leo lay there for a moment, trying to catch his breath and feeling Y/N shake against him. Too close. That had been far too close. 

Sucking in a deep breath, Leo eased himself up into a sitting position, cradling her close as her sobs echoed in the empty building. Somehow, it sunk in all over again just how badly his failure had hurt her, how much danger he’d put her in. But she was here and alive. 

“You’re okay.” He lied sweetly and --hopefully-- soothingly. “It’s okay...you’re safe now. I’m right here…” He pressed a kiss to her forehead as her sobs subsided, even if the tears still flowed. Tears he’d caused. Leo tried to wipe them away, only for Y/N to flinch away when he accidentally brushed the cuts. Crap. He just couldn’t fix this, could he?

“Leo…” She whispered it looking up at him as tears glistened on her lashes. “Your brothers...You need to help them…” His brothers, they were going up against the Shredder. The Shredder, he was going to tear him apart. 

“Think you could get out of here on your own?” He muttered, nothing in him wanting to let her go. She nodded even as he nuzzled her neck, blinking back tears of his own. Could he let her leave so soon? Would she be safe? Even with their allies? “Casey and April are down with the NYPD outside, get to them.” He didn’t have to command it as he did with his brothers. He never did with her. 

“Alright…” She was still trembling as she stood, pulling him up with her. He didn’t know what to say as he looked down at her. Everybody was small compared to him, but Y/N had never looked this tiny or so fragile.

“Be careful Leo,” She whispered, standing on her tiptoes as he kissed her gently, afraid she would break beneath his touch. 

“I will.” He promised, trying to smile for her as he pulled away. “Now hurry.” He hated watching her go, but he had a city to save and quite possibly, an explanation to give his brothers. 

***

Some part of Leo had hoped his brothers had forgotten about how he froze up at the sight of Y/N, maybe forgotten about her completely. Or at least long enough for him to formulate an explanation. Raph didn’t give him that.

“Alright fearless,” Raph snapped as soon as they finished briefing the police chief. “What happened up there? Why’d ya go all misty-eyed over that chick?” 

“Yeah dude!”Mikey chimed in before Leo could answer. “You totally froze like a popsicle.”

“Great comparison Mikey.” Y/N smiled at the turtle in orange as she joined the group.

Leo let out a sigh of relief at the sight of her. She was okay. Her face and neck were clean of blood, even if he could see some dried in her hair that was now pulled back in a messy bun. 

Mikey’s jaw dropped slightly. “You know my name?”

Y/N ignored him as she laid a hand on Leo’s forearm. “Are you alright?” Her voice was soft with worry, her smile vanishing. 

“I’m fine.” He assured her, tucking a hand under her chin and tilting her face to see the wounds better. They weren’t deep looking, but chances were that they would scar. He hated the idea of that. Not because of her appearance, she’d always be beautiful and nothing could change that, but because she’d be forced to wear the consequences of his failure and his inability to protect her.

“Those should be bandaged.” He muttered as her hand moved from his forearm to his wrist, her touch gentle and gaze loving. He didn’t deserve to be looked at like that. Not after today.

“The medic tried,” She said, “The bandages wouldn’t stay, and besides, it’s stopped bleeding.” That didn’t mean they wouldn’t end up infected but Leo held his tongue. He was no doctor.

“Ya planning on introducing us, fearless?” Raph snapped, drawing their attention. Holding back a sharp response, Leo dropped his hand from her face, taking her hand instead. She pressed close, almost shyly. Then again, Raph was glaring while Mikey and Donnie stared. 

“Guys, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.” It felt good to say that allowed, to let the precious secret out. She offered a smile and a small wave to his brother’s shocked expressions.

“How’d you catch a cutie like her?” Mikey gaped.

“Mikey…” Leo meant for it to be a warning, but Y/N hadn’t even blushed.

“We’re both just really lucky.” She smiled, squeezing his hand gently, reassuring him. He’d known she was loyal, but seeing that proved made his heart do a small dance. 

“Miss Y/N!” An officer called out. “Your father is here!”

“Thank you!” Y/N answered before looking back at Leo. “I’ll see you later, just make sure to get some rest before I do.” 

“As you wish.” He chuckled at how the reference made her flush. She loved that book, and loved that he had read it for her. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, ignoring how Raph pretended to gag. He couldn’t help but worry as she walked away. She’d been taken once, what if it happened again? What if he couldn’t save her again? What if he failed all over again on a whole other level? 

“Leo, can you please explain this statistical improbability?” Donnie asked and Leo turned back to his brothers and quite possibly an argument.

***

How could the sight of her cause him so much pain when she was his peace? It was stupid, considering how much he loved her, but he couldn’t stand the sight of the angry red stripes on her face. Even as they began to heal, all that he saw there was a reminder of his failure. Of how he nearly got her killed. It made his heart twist violently in his chest, it made every gentle touch painful and every sweet kiss bitter. He didn’t deserve her, and she didn’t deserve a failure like him.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Leo, are you okay?” Y/N asked as he landed on the fire escape. She always knew when he was struggling with something, she knew when the walls went up inside of him. He needed those walls right then. Yet, even with them, he couldn’t hold her gaze. 

“I…” He had a speech planned out, but it had vanished from his memory. “I’m breaking up with you.” There he’d said it. Plain and simple, like a shattered heart. He watched with a crumbling will as her jaw dropped and pain flooded her eyes. 

“What?” She whispered it at first, but her voice rose slightly as she spoke. “Leo, why? Did… Did I do something wrong?” No never. She could never do something wrong that he couldn’t forgive. He was the one who’d done something wrong. It made it all the harder. Would it be easier...would it be easier if he could get Y/N to hate him? Get her to hate him as much as he hated himself for this?

“No,” He shook his head. “I just can’t do this anymore.” The walls were trembling, crumbling. He had to do this quickly. 

“Do what?” She asked, her voice cracking. He didn’t answer, he was too busy patching up his defenses. “Do what?” Her voice was firm now. “Leonardo! What can’t you do anymore?” He couldn’t tell her the truth. That he was ashamed, that he could barely look at her because all he saw was his failure. 

“Leonardo.” 

“I can’t keep pretending I love you.” There. The lie that would make this easier. Make her hate him. But when he met her gaze, he didn’t see hate there. Just a broken and crushed heart. He noted Y/N hands curling into fists, blinking back tears as anger flooded her eyes. 

“Get lost, Leonardo.” She hissed it. “I never want to see you again.” There, she hated him.

It didn’t make it hurt less.

***

“Leonardo,” Splinter’s voice cut through his gloomy thoughts. “How is Y/N? She has not visited in a while.” That was no help at all. It had been nearly two months since Leo had crushed her. Since he’d spoken to her. And he still couldn’t seem to catch his breath. 

“I don’t know,” Leo muttered, running a cloth over the blade of his katana. How could one sentence cause all of his brothers to freeze? 

“How the hell do you not know how yer own girlfriend is doing?” Raph turned from the punching bag he’d been pummeling. 

“Ex-girlfriend.” Leo corrected, looking back down to his weapons. “We- I broke up with her about two months ago.” 

“That explains your change in appetite,” Donnie muttered even as Mikey gasped.

“Dude, how do you dump a girl like her?” He questioned. Yeah, how could Leo? How could he break her like that?

“Leonardo, you worked well with each other.” Splinter spoke kindly, “She both motivated you to hold yourself to a higher standard and taught you to forgive yourself for your shortcomings. What is it that caused this?” Leo did, because of the one thing he couldn’t forgive himself for. 

“She deserves better.” He grumbled, sliding his katana into its sheath. “I failed to protect her and she paid the price. I don’t deserve her.” 

“Wait this is about the Shedder incident isn’t it?” Mikey asked and Leo nodded. 

“Yer right about one thing,” Raph growled, stalking over to him. “Ya don’t deserve her because yer pride can’t handle being reminded of yer failure every time ya look at her.” The truth sounded so terrible as it hung in the air. It was painful too, but since when was Raph so observant?

“Wait, Raph is right?” Donnie asked and Leo nodded.

“You must fix this.” Splinter instructed. “Y/N has loved you, a tender and precious thing. For you to cast that and her aside will have broken her.” Did she love him? They’d never actually said that they loved each other, not with words, but Leo had never doubted it. Not when he saw it in her stunning eyes, felt it in her touch, and heard it in her gentle tones. But there was no chance that she loved him now.

“Simply put,” Raph rolled his eyes. “Yer an idiot.”

“Way to make me feel better Raph.” Leo grumbled.

“Do you still love her, man?” Mikey asked gently. His youngest brother was always so good at talking things through. 

Leo nodded. “Of course I do. I never stopped and I don’t think I ever will. I wish I told her that. I want to tell her that. But I screwed everything up.”

“Give me yer phone.” Raph held out his hand until Leo handed it over. What harm could it do? She probably wouldn’t answer. All it took was half a minute of ringing for him to be surprised.

“Hello? Leo?” Her voice was as beautiful as ever. A stunning arrow to his heart as they all listened. 

“Hey Y/N, it’s Raph.” 

“Oh hey, Raph.” Was that disappointment in her voice? “What’s up?”

“We need ya to talk to Leo. He’s-” She cut Raph off.

“I can’t.” Her tone was sharp enough to startle him. The last time he’d heard her speak like that was when she was scolding her dog for attempting to chew on his knee pad. 

“I can’t.” She repeated, her voice softer with hurt. “I just don’t think I could handle seeing him right now. I...I still love him, Raph. But it still hurts. After what he said, just seeing his name pop up on my screen when he called hurts.” Leo sank farther into his seat, shame pulling him down even as hope made his heart race. She still loved him? Could he still have a chance? He’d failed to make her hate him, but that was a failure he would gladly live with. 

“You…” Y/N spoke into the momentary silence. “You don’t know what he said do you?”

“No.” Raph shook his head as he answered. “Just that he’s been moping around her for the past two months.” 

“I can’t forget them Raph…” Her voice shook. “Can’t forget that he said ‘I can’t keep pretending I love you.’” Raph cursed but all Leo could hear was the single sob that came from the speaker. He really had broken her.

“I’m gonna beat him to a pulp…” The hothead muttered. “But Y/N, I know for a fact he didn’t mean it. And judging by all his pouting, he regrets it.”

“Don’t mess with me like this.” She was begging. Was she fighting hope like he was?

“I ain’t messing with ya,” Raph assured her. “Just meet with him once, and give the jerk a chance to explain.” Leo never hated silence like he did at that moment.

“Fine. Tomorrow night.” She agreed. “He’ll know where to meet me.” The rooftop of her apartment building and the garden that was there. It was their space, where they’d meet in the dark of the night during the summer and until the cold sent them hiding in her apartment.

“I’ll tell him.” Raph said. “And Y/N thanks. This probably isn’t easy for ya.”

“Not at all.” He could almost see her shaking her head. “Bye Raph.” Leo had just enough time between her hanging up and Raph lunging for him to let out a sigh of relief. He might just have a chance to fix this.

***

When was the last time he was this nervous? This anxious as he waited in their place? There were so many memories here. He could see them everywhere and each and every one had her. Y/N sitting beneath the palm tree in the corner, book in her lap as she scribbled notes. The time they hid behind the rose trellis from the old lady who’d wandered up there looking for a cat. That first kiss. That was a special memory. He’d gotten caught up in a fight on his way there, had been late and arrived to see her pacing with worry. She been so relieved he was alright she’d kissed him full on the lips. He could still see her shy expression as she pulled away, as if suddenly aware of what she’d done. Until he kissed her. 

“Leo?” He spun around at the sound of her voice. She really was there now.

“Y/N.” He could only breathe her name. She was just as stunning as he remembered, her hair falling freely, her gaze searching his face, and the lips he craved. The figure that she hated but he loved, and the necklace he’d given her as a Christmas present. Then she tilted her head and the moonlight fell over her scars. They stood out harshly, beautifully against her skin. How could something so brutal, only make her more stunning and cause so much shame to flood through him?

“I’m sorry.” It was all he could say, as he dropped his gaze down to his hands. “I messed up and I lied and said something I never should have and never meant because I didn’t want to admit why I walked away.” There is was. Plain and painful, but truthful.

“So why did you walk away?” He could feel her step closer. “Why did you walk away after I’ve trusted you and…” She hesitated, “loved you? Why didn’t you trust me enough to tell me why?”

“I was…I am ashamed…” The words wouldn’t stop and only came faster as she came closer. “I failed, I failed to protect you and you paid the price. I was prideful and ashamed and-” She was close now, he could see her blue sneakers, her hand reaching out and taking his.

“My scars.” She whispered it. “Every time you looked at me, you felt like you failed all over again. Like we’re back on that roof with the Shredder. Don’t you?” He nodded, even as the fear rushed in anew. What would she do? What would she do knowing that he could barely look at her? That she really didn’t deserve him with his pride, selfishness, and failures?

“Leo, I love my scars.” Her words caused his head to jerk up in his surprise. He searched her expression, looking for some confirmation. The soft smile was that.

“Why?” He questioned, “How?”

“I love my scars because they reminded me that regardless of what trouble I get into, you’re always there.” She spoke almost passionately as if she had to convince him. “They remind me that everything will be okay because I am not alone. Because you’re my hero.” Sweet Y/N. So precious, too good for him. He may have been her hero, but she was his angel. 

“I am so sorry…” He pulled her into a hug, whispered the words into her hair, breathing in the sweet strawberry smell that hung around her. “I thought if I could get you to hate me, things would be easier. I never meant what I said.”

“I know.” She pulled back slightly, playing with the ends of his mask. He loved it when she did that. “And Leo, I love you too much to ever hate you.”

“I love you too.” He muttered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Will you have me back?”

“Of course. So long as you trust me as I trust you--completely.” Their lips brushed even as she spoke. 

“I wouldn’t have any other way.”

Until that night, Leo never knew just how trusting a kiss could be.

[lnc2]

i’ve been having dreams

Summary: Delirious and heat-stricken, Ladybug searches for Chat Noir and stumbles upon Adrien instead.

AO3

Adrien stared up at his cavernous ceiling, making shapes in the plaster and moonlight, reciting physics formulas in his head and doing his damnedest to keep his thoughts from wandering.

He couldn’t sleep.

Not entirely unusual these days, but annoying nevertheless.

Plagg said it had something to do with the miraculous.  At least, the parts of it that weren’t induced by his hormone-ridden adolescence. Which, really, was just an additional kick in the balls.  Being an alpha was difficult enough as it was– did his body need to add lack of sleep on top of it all?

But even if he wasn’t seventeen and less than a month away from his rut Adrien knew he wouldn’t be sleeping.  Not after he’d made such an ass of himself.

What was it about pretty pheromones that turned him from an otherwise perfectly rational being into a stuttering, forward fool?  He’d questioned his kwami on the matter, red-faced, head buried into his pillow as he tried to smother the memories from his brain, but Plagg only laughed at him.

“You’re a young kit, yet.  It gets easier.”

Which, while relieving to know, did nothing to quell the horrifying memories of the last twenty-four hours.  Raging hormones aside, he knew better than to let his mouth run away from him.  Or at least he thought he did.

But how else could he explain propositioning not one, but two of his dearest friends in less than a day?

The first he could probably forgive himself.  Adrien had been stupid in love with Ladybug the moment she stood up in front of the whole of Paris and told Hawkmoth to fuck off.  His heart was always running away with his tongue. Add in her pre-heat pheromones, sluggish hugs, and sleepy-eyed chatons it was hardly a wonder he’d gone and put his paw in his mouth.

It was the end of patrol, a patrol his lady really should have skipped out on judging from her smell alone, and she was curled up into his side, head resting in the curve of his neck, hair tickling beneath his chin and wreaking havoc on his nerves.  The smell of marigolds, wet soil, and rain filled his senses like a heady bouquet and he swore the most lavish gardens in the country had nothing on her .

“I’m so tired,” She murmured, eyes closed and nearly dozing.

“Far be it from me to send you away, but maybe you should head home, bug?”

“Don’t want to,” She said, turning her face into his neck, breathing deep.  “Comfy. Smell good.”

Chat’s ears were as hot as her breath on his skin.  “C-could say the same of you.”

“Pfft.” She sighed and he shivered.  “This heat is going to suck, chaton.”

“Oh?”

“Mmm,” Ladybug pulled away, eyes half-lidded as she looked out over the city.  “My alpha friend. The one who usually stays with me?”

Chat nodded, trampling the ugly, prickling sense of jealousy that crept up every time her other friend was mentioned.  By all accounts their relationship was platonic. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to track her down and tear her out for getting to spend Ladybug’s heats by her side.

“She’s out of town.  I’m gonna be a lonesome bug.” She fiddled with her hands in her lap, shoulders curving inward.  “I’ve never been alone for one before.”

It was the pooch of her lips that did it.  The slight downturn of the smile he loved, the insecurity in her voice.

How could he help himself?

“You could spend it with me.”

What?

“What?”

“What?” He blinked, horrified.

Ladybug pulled away from him and his tail twitched at the distance as she stared at him, more alert than she’d been in over a week.

“Did you just…?”

Chat grabbed at the edge of the roof, suddenly feeling very small.  He couldn’t meet her eyes as he asked, “Would that be so terrible?”

The silence was so thick he could feel it as he waited for her answer.  Chat nearly jumped out of his suit when one of her hands found his and clasped it in her own.  Risking a look at her, his heart fell at the sweet rejection in her smile.

Ladybug’s eyes were soft and sad when she shook her head.  “No, Chat. It wouldn’t be terrible at all.”

Stupid.  He was so stupid.

He must of said that aloud or she read it on his face because she squeezed his hand, hard.

“It’s not that, kitty.” She sighed, settling back into his side and leaning against his shoulder.  “I know you’d never hurt me.”

Hurt her?  Never.

Bite her? Well.

But he could control himself.  He could.

It would be safe, she would be safe with him.

“It’s just a lot to ask of you,” She said and Chat heard the undercurrents as loud as her words.

It would be too close to what he wanted.  Desperately. Painfully.

And god help him, she knew it.

Swallowing down his own feelings, Chat grinned, poking at her side until she squirmed away, giggling.

“What are partners for, LB?”

“Probably not that,” She said, gentle smile for a gentle rejection.  “But I adore you for offering.”

Just not enough.

Ugh, Adrien groaned, rolling over to bury his face in his pillow.  Ladybug was even wonderful when she was letting him down. How the hell was he supposed to handle that?

But even being rejected (again) by his lady was not nearly as mortifying as what had happened at school this morning.

He couldn’t really blame his wayward heart for that mistake.

Adrien had come in halfway through the day thanks to a poorly timed photoshoot.  Doing his best to join the class without drawing too much attention to himself he slid in beside Nino and pulled out his notebook.  His friend, lifesaver that he was, passed him the notes from the morning without Adrien having to ask.

“Just let me know when you’re done,” He whispered as Ms. Bustier’s back was turned to the board.  “I need to make copies for Marinette.”

Marinette?

Adrien turned around to glance at their friend only to find her slumped forward over her desk, eyes barely open as she struggled to pay attention.  Beside her Rose was combing her fingers through her hair and rubbing slow circles over her back.

Alarmed, he looked towards Nino who grimaced and tore out a piece of paper from his notes. Scribbling a few words he passed it over.

Her heat is coming up.

Oh.  Adrien’s heart went out to his friend.  Having just seen Ladybug in a similar haze he knew the days just before it started could be brutal.  Hot flashes, shivers, listlessness– it really wasn’t fair.

Frowning he passed the paper back to Nino.

Should she be at school?

Nino shrugged.

Probably not. But you know Marinette.  Usually Alya is here to help take the edge off but she’s in Martinique visiting family.

Adrien grimaced.  Poor Marinette.

Heats and ruts were always rougher during adolescence.  The first few years being the worst as foreign hormones flooded the system, unfamiliar and overwhelming.  He knew from textbooks and friends that the worst of a heat’s effects could be abated by spending time with an alpha.  He also knew Marinette spent most if not all of her cycles with Alya since middle school.

God, no wonder she looked so rough.

“Would– would it help if I sat next to her for the day?” He whispered, once again glancing over his shoulder to their miserable friend.  “I’m not Alya but I could help.”

Nino looked stunned by his suggestion.  So much so that Adrien could feel his pride as an alpha bristling in indignation.  Sure he wasn’t the most aggressive alpha in their class.  He didn’t parade around with his chest puffed out like Kim or bark orders like Chloe.  But that didn’t mean he couldn’t help.

Between his friend’s incredulity and Ladybug’s rejection from the night before, Adrien wasn’t entirely sure what happened next was avoidable.

Collecting his things in one arm and grabbing his bag with the other, he stood up and mounted the steps to the bench Marinette and Rose were occupying.

“I can take it from here.”

Rose merely stared up at him in disbelief.  It wasn’t a challenge, not really. Any other time and Adrien would have recognized her stunned immobility for what it was.  As things stood, however, he took her stupor as a refusal and felt a low growl building in the back of his throat.

“Move,” He said, his voice brooking no refusal.

Rose squeaked and scrambled out of his way as Ms. Bustier scolded him for his interruption.  He ignored her and slid into the space beside Marinette. She seemed oblivious to the change as she blinked sleepily up at him.

“Let me help you,” He said, smiling gently, pulling her to lean into his shoulder.  She did so, willingly, slumping into his side with a quiet whine. Marinette smelled like warm bread, fresh flowers, and cinnamon.  It was thick around them, filling his senses.

The afternoon passed quickly from there.

It wasn’t until he and Nino had dropped Marinette off at the bakery after school that he realized he may have overstepped.

“Dude.”

Nino didn’t have to say anything else.  The amusement and accusation were more than present in his eyes.

I fucked up.

Plagg spent the afternoon laughing at him.  Teasing him about claiming his girlfriend in the middle of class.  About how pigtails would lose her mind when she realized just who she’d spent the afternoon cuddled up against.  About what Ladybug would think.

That’s when Adrien had chucked his pillow at the kwami and told him to fuck off.

He hadn’t done anything wrong.  He’d been helping out a friend.

It wasn’t a big deal.

And yet, here he was, half past 2 am and unable to sleep.

“Arrcg,” He groaned into his pillow.  Kicking his sheets off of his legs in a futile effort to expel his embarrassment Adrien nearly missed the sound of a thump against his bedroom window.

Lifting his head, his eyes widened as they adjusted to the familiar silhouette slumped against the window pane.

“Ladybug?”

No sooner was her name out of his mouth than he was scrambling from his bed, kicking his sheet-entangled foot that nearly had him faceplanting onto the floor.  He rushed for the window, knowing from the events of the night before and the way she was hunched over that she was in no condition to be navigating rooftops.

No sooner had he opened the window than she proved him right by toppling forward into his unwaiting arms.

“Oof ,” He grunted as her full weight collapsed into him.  He took several steps back, arms locked tight around her waist.

“Ladybug?”  Adrien reached up to feel her flushed cheeks.  She stared up at him through heavy-lidded eyes.  “Are you all right?”

“Sorry,” She murmured, not even trying to stand up.  “Too much.”

The smell hit him then, floral and musk and want.

Oh god, she’s reached her heat .

Panicking, Adrien searched the dark for Plagg only to come up empty.  Why did she come here ?

Ladybug shifted against him, lips moving faintly against his neck.  Repressing a shiver, it took him a moment to realize she was speaking.

“What was that, bug?”

“Chat,” She whispered and he froze.  “Need to find Chat.”

Adrien’s shoulders slumped in relief even as his heart kicked into overdrive.  She didn’t know.

And still …

“You– you were looking for Chat Noir?”

She nodded, bangs brushing against the underside of his chin. “He promised.”

As if spurred by the thought she pulled away from him only for her body to sway into the window.  She held out her hand to keep upright.

“Whoa, hey there,” He said, reaching out to steady her.  “Ladybug, you can’t go anywhere like this.”

She shook her head, slowly. “Can’t stay.”

“Well I’m not letting you leave either.”

She frowned.  “But… your father–”

Adrien shifted his hold on her and she slumped into him. “Shh. He’s out of town.”

Ladybug nodded, eyes glassy. “Milan.”

He laughed. “I’m not going to ask why you know that.”

“Know a lot of things,” She murmured.

Adrien didn’t doubt it.

Tacit acceptance secured, he slipped his arm around her waist he helped her towards his bed.  There was no way he was going to let his partner swing across Paris in this condition. She would have to stay.

It said a lot about his lady’s state of mind that she barely protested even as he guided her to sit on the mattress.  Feverish and swaying, she merely blinked at him as Adrien rushed for his closet.

“What are you doing?”

He hummed as he rifled through his clothes and linens.  Grabbing every scrap of fabric that might be considered useful, he started bringing her scarves, blankets, sheets, towels, pillows– anything soft or pretty or vibrant.  Ladybug squeaked as he dropped the first pile of material at her feet before running back to the closet. He caught Plagg’s eyes glittering at him from the depths of his shirt rack but chose to ignore him.  He had more pressing issues to deal with at the moment than his irritated kwami.

Adrien ran his hands through his hair, heart pounding.

Ladybug was here.  For better or worse she was here and she would be spending this cycle with him. Or at least the night.

 Further still, she’d gone looking for him.

Well, Chat Noir, but still.

God, if he knew she’d actually take him up on the offer he would have… well he absolutely still would have made it.

He’d dreamed of spending Ladybug’s heats with her.  Bringing her courting gifts, watching her build her den, being welcomed there in turn.  Holding her close, whispering promises, making her his. Maybe, one day, in the far flung future when super villains and school and identities weren’t in the way – giving her pups of her own?

This was not how he thought this would go.  But like hell was Adrien sending her away now.

Steeling himself, Adrien left the closet only to nearly collapse back into it as caught sight of Ladybug shuffling around his bed, fluffing up pillows and laying out scarves, head barely visible over the wall of blankets she built up to bolster the edges of the mattress.

A whine escaped his throat before he could help himself.  Ladybug looked over to him with a welcoming, sleepy smile.

“Come here.”

Legs shaking, Adrien stumbled forward to the edge of her nest.  Ladybug reached out for him from where she was snuggled under one of his many comforters and tugged him tumbling into the bed.

His blood rushed through his ears as his heart tripped into overdrive as his lady wrapped her arm around his stomach and snuggled into his side.  Her breath was hot against his skin as she took him in, deep and even.

“Sorry,” She said, eventually, softly.  “For invading your space. I… I really was looking for Chat.”

You found him. 

“Don’t mention it,” He croaked.

There was no sleeping now, not with the feeling of Ladybug pressed against him cheek to neck to torso to thigh.  Not with her scent, heady and thick, filling the air, drugging him. Not with her soft sighs in his ear or whimpers as he shifted– as if she thought he would leave her.  As if he could.

God help him.  He’d never know a good night’s sleep again. 

Not with these memories at least.

Long after he thought she’d gone to sleep, Adrien stared up at the ceiling and willed his poor heart to stop skipping every time she so much as breathed.  True to his promise, he remained a gentleman, making sure that any particular… byproducts... of her proximity were under control. Or at least, as much control as a teenage boy could reasonably expect when plastered against the love of his life.

Which was why, when he felt her gloved hand gliding across his chest to rest over his heart, he nearly launched himself off the bed like a scared rabbit.  Fortunately, his pheromone drugged reflexes were slow on the uptake and he didn’t dislodge her too much.

Either way, Ladybug didn’t seem to notice as she buried her face in his neck and breathed, long and deep.

“Thought about this,” She confessed.

“This?”

Ladybug nodded. “Having you with me.”

Adrien suddenly found it impossible to swallow.  “M-me?”

Her fingers tightened at the fabric over his chest.

“Mmm, you.” She said.  “And Chat.”

“Chat?” He squeaked.

Ladybug frowned, eyes closed.  Some part of him, the part she hadn’t just shocked senseless, wanted to pull her closer, kiss away the furrow between her brows.  Fortunately or not, Adrien found he couldn’t move at all.

“Won’t happen,” She sighed. “Don’t think Chat could share.”

No, he absolutely could not. 

Then again, she wasn’t asking him to.  Not really.

“You never know,” He said.  “He might surprise you.”

Ladybug hummed, happy.  “Hope so. Would be nice.”

“Y-yeah?” He looked down at her only to find her smiling up at him.

“Two alphas?  My alphas?” Her eyes slipped closed and she nuzzled into him, lips brushing just beneath his ear.  “Lucky.”

Adrien would laugh if he didn’t feel like crying.

She’d be lucky? 

Ha. Hah.

Being considered her anything was enough to shut him down completely.  Only natural when every thought and feeling and wish his heart ever hoped to want was wrapped up in the woman who was currently wrapped around him.

His heart pounded, heavy and sluggish beneath her hands.

“I’d like that,” He whispered, finally. “Being yours.”

Adrien had been thinking of Ladybug as his for so long when all he really wanted to be was hers.  He was hers.  Whether she wanted him or not he was hers.

And she was here. 

Even when she didn’t know where to go, she found him.

His arms tightened around her shoulders, hugging her closer.  He could tell from her breathing that she was asleep. He also knew, from experience, that her transformation wouldn’t make it until morning.

Plagg floated out from his hiding place, green eyes inscrutable as he took in his charge.

“You sure you’re ready, kid?”

Adrien didn’t know.

He didn’t know if he was ready to find out who was on the other side of the mask.  He didn’t know if he was ready to wake up to blue eyes and sleepy smiles and revelations.  He didn’t know if he was ready for Ladybug to know how deeply and truly fucked he was over her.

But as she shifted into him, face buried in his neck, hand resting over his heart,

he knew he was ready to find out.

[stillebesat]

The Interview (4/5)

Sanders Sides: Logan, Patton, Virgil, Roman Blurb: A normal day at StoryTime! Inc. takes an unexpected turn when Logan goes to investigate why his coworkers have made a bet using Crofters as the prize. Fic Type: General, Human!AU Warnings: None

To Catch Up: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 

Virgil froze like a deer in the headlights, barely appearing to breathe. “What?”

Logan raised an eyebrow, his smile becoming more amused. Had Virgil really expected him to say no--of course he had. 

“I said that you’re hired, Virgil.” He stood, carefully keeping the portfolio out of reach so the kid wouldn’t bolt. “Why don’t we head inside to work out the particulars?” Like informing Roman that he had once more overstepped. 

Hopefully this wouldn’t come back to bite him as hard as last time. 

“But.” Virgil shook his head, apparently rooted in place. “This wasn’t a rea inter--” He inhaled sharply, jabbing an accusing finger at Logan’s chest. “You said you weren’t Princey!” 

Logan pushed up his glasses with one finger, fighting a smile. “I said I wasn’t Roman.” He replied easily. “Not that I wasn’t a Prince.” Besides. His brother wasn’t the only one with hiring power in the building. 

Virgil frowned, rubbing his arms. “You’re a Prince? But how--records show--and if you’re not Roma--” He inhaled sharply, eyes growing wide. “Wait.” He took a step closer to Logan. “You’re telling me that you’re--” He dropped his voice, glancing furtively around the plaza. “Logan? Logan Prince?” 

The portfolio nearly slipped from his fingers at the mention of his name. That--that should be impossible! “How--?”  Logan breathed, ignoring the frantic pounding of his heart. 

He could count the number of people that knew his name in the company on one hand. To everyone else, even on official records, he was simply known as ‘Specs.’ 

The nickname didn’t help his cryptid status at all, but did keep everyone from lumping him and Roman together like they were one entity instead of two. It had finally allowed both of them to spread their figurative wings and take their own paths without feeling like they were in each other's shadows.

And now this...this outsider...knew his name?! HOW?!

 Virgil licked his lips, dropping the hand that had been outstretched for his portfolio. “Well...I did say I’ve followed Thomas from the beginning.” He shrugged, a bit of mischief glinting in his mismatched eyes. “I saw a photo of an early script of Princey’s.”

A script? Logan raised his eyebrows. A script--which script? He’d signed off as Specs on his collaborations with his brother for years. They couldn’t have slipped up over something as little as--

“Zooming in on the picture showed both your names on it, though it was hard to make out yours as its smudged with glitter and partially covered by Roman’s hand.” Virgil continued, staring at Logan as if he’d discovered Bigfoot. 

In a way he had. 

“Glitter?” Logan frowned. Roman hadn’t used glitter on screenplays since--oh. OH. “Are you meaning that four hundred page Sherlock inspired screenplay?” He asked, half turning to the building. 

Virgil nodded, drawing closer. “The one where Watson just freaking dies and a new less emotional sidekick takes place? Yes.” 

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. Of all the pieces that would expose him, it had to be that one. “I hadn’t realized he posted images of that.” He said, heading for the entrance, glancing over his shoulder to ensure Virgil was following. “We wrote it together one weekend while we were stranded at an airport.” 

Virgil whistled. “That’s--wow. Four hundred pages in two days? You two are crazy!”

“Bored more like.” They’d been between projects and driving each other mad, it had been something to keep the two of them equally entertained. “And it was written in three and a half days, plus the ten hour flight.” 

Again Virgil whistled, eyes wide. “Impressive.”

Logan shrugged. “Yah...well. That’s my--” he dropped his voice as he grabbed the door, noting the gaggle of people still hovering in the foyer, watching the two of them. “Twin for you.” He returned to speaking to his normal tones as if nothing had happened. “Once Roman gets inspired, it’s hard to get him to stop.” Another reason why it was difficult to keep people in his department. Few people could go as long or as hard as his brother could. 

Virgil stumbled a step, hesitating right outside the doorway. “Twin?” He echoed softly. “I had thought---I had a theory there were Two Princes at StoryTime!, but I didn’t think you two were---HOW has this not gotten out?!” 

Because they didn’t want to be known just as The Twins anymore. That’s why. 

Logan shrugged. “We don’t want it to. So it doesn’t.” Though now that Virgil had connected the dots-- “And I hope you won’t--”

Virgil rubbed his arms, shaking his head as he looked to the people in the lobby. “Dude, don’t worry. I can keep a secret.” 

That would remain to be seen, but Logan appreciated the sentiment. Though he would be more comfortable having this conversation without so many listening ears nearby. After all, he was already drawing them far too much attention because ‘Specs’ wasn’t supposed to be able to leave the building and Virgil was just standing there like a statu--

Maybe he’s a vampire and needs to be invited inside. 

Logan bit back a smile as Reese’s words echoed in his head. “Then come in, Virgil.” he said, holding the door open a little wider. “I promise we don’t bite. Roman’s more bark than anything.”  

Virgil hunched his shoulders, pushing his bangs over his eyes, before drawing in a steadying breath. “Okay.” He whispered, stepping over the threshold onto the marble tiles, looking around with cautious curiosity. 

“This way.” Logan said, ignoring Ellyn and Chris’s glances as he snagged a visitor’s pass from the front desk, tossing it to Virgil. “You’ll need to wear that until you’re coded into the system.”

“When will that be?” Virgil asked, slipping the pass over his head as Logan pressed the button for the elevator. 

He hummed, tapping the portfolio. That was a good question. “It would depend on when you can--”

“SPECS!” A voice boomed overhead from the floor above, echoing around the lobby. “THERE you are!” 

Well...that saved him the trouble of tracking his brother down. “What does he want now?” Logan asked under his breath as he turned towards the figure standing at the top of the steps. Roman could vanish at the worst possible times and turn up in the oddest of places like the air ducts above the cafeteria.

Virgil jerked. “Specs?” His eyes sparked, lighting up like Logan had just told him aliens existed. “Specs...of course!” He breathed as the elevator dinged, the doors sliding open. “It makes so much sense how you kept this--I’d wondered but--” Virgil frowned. “But I thought you never went outside!” 

Clever. Virgil was piecing things together much faster than ninety-eight percent of the company ever would. 

Logan flashed him a smile, putting a finger to his lips, aware of the guards and other associates standing nearby. He was liking this kid more and more every moment. “I usually don’t.” He said, dropping the smile as a man wearing a white jacket and red sash slid down the banister of the staircase like...well a Prince straight from a Disney movie, skidding to a stop in front of the two of them. 

“About time I found you!” His brother cried, barely glancing to Virgil, before laser focusing in on Logan.

“You have perfect timing as always, Roman.” Logan said, placing a hand on Virgil’s elbow, pulling him inside the elevator. “I was just heading back upstairs to find you.” 

Roman blinked. “Find me? What for?” He demanded, following the two of them inside, hitting the button for the ninth floor. “I’ve spent the last twenty minutes trying to track you down and now you want to find me?” He ran a hand through his hair. “Of course you do this to me two minutes before my next interview--”

“For Virgil right?” 

Roman gaped at him, eyes narrowing as the doors slid shut. “How did you--” 

Time to jump into the fire. “I just hired him for your department.” Logan said, gesturing to the third member of their little elevator party.

Roman froze, mouth half open, before his hands clenched. “You. WHAT?!” 

“I hired him--am I not speaking clearly today?” Logan asked looking to Virgil with a raised eyebrow. “You did the same thing when I told you you were hired too.” 

Virgil shook his head, crossing his arms, his hand rubbing the spot Logan had grabbed as Roman gave him the once over. “No. It’s just a statement that not many people will find believable...apparently.” 

“Oh no, it’s believable, if I allowed your interview to be scheduled in the first place, but Specs.” Roman growled, glaring at Logan. “We agreed you wouldn’t interfere--”

“With your hires.” He finished. “I know, but trust me, brother.” Logan said stressing the word as he held out Virgil’s portfolio. If he was right, and he normally was, Roman wouldn’t be mad at him for long. 

Roman froze, hand already outstretched, eyes flicking to Virgil and back. “He?”

“Knows we’re related, thanks to you.” 

“To me! I haven’t said a word--” Roman denied, taking the portfolio and flipping it open as he leaned against the wall.

“Virgil, care to explain?” 

“I…” Virgil flushed under their combined stares, setting his chin stubbornly. “The Sherlock screenplay. I noticed that Logan’s name wasn’t completely covered when you took the picture and dug around a bit--Do people here really not know you’re related?” 

They both shook their heads. “No.”

Virgil scoffed, gesturing between them. “But you two look exactly the same!” 

“Only a handful know.” Logan clarified, pointedly adjusting the frames of his glasses. 

It helped that they weren’t often seen together. Most of their meetups took place in the privacy of their offices.

“Like three people--Spec’s does great as Clark Kent--” Roman jerked his head up from the portfolio. “Don’t tell me you hired him because he’s blackmailing you!?” He demanded, jabbing a finger at Virgil.

Virgil flinched, but took a step forward, eyes blazing. “I wouldn’t do that, Princey.” He growled. 

I’m quite used to being the villain.

“Princey?” Roman repeated, his own eyes darkening. 

Virgil faltered, glancing to Logan. “I--I---uh.” 

Logan gave him a reassuring smile, nodding to Roman “Go on, Virgil. Speak your mind.” He wanted to see if the new hire would actually stand up to his brother as he’d stated outside. 

Virgil set his jaw, taking a breath, staring Roman down. “I’m here because you were willing to give me a chance, sir. No other motive. I want to work here on my own merit. Not through...through blackmail.” He practically spat the word. “My Two Princes theory was just that. A theory until Lo--Specs here confirmed it.” 

Logan winced as Roman side eyed him. Busted.

"Well…color me impressed that you got Dr. Roboto here to confirm anything, kid. Usually he's sealed tighter than a jar of Crofters." Roman snapped the portfolio shut as the elevator doors opened. "Don't count your eggs though. I'm not so easily swayed." 

Logan rolled his eyes. Ah Huh. Yah right. "Page twenty-eight." He said tapping the top of the portfolio as they stepped out onto the landing. "Then you'll understand one of the factors that lead to me hiring Virgil." 

Roman scoffed. "One image led you to hire him over my head? Are you addled?" 

"I would…agree." Virgil said slowly, glancing between the two as he moved down the hallway with them. "Compared to my other works, I don't see how that one-"

Logan glanced to Virgil as he pulled open a door with Roman Prince written in cursive on the glass. He would see soon enough. "I can assure you both that my cognitive function has been unaffected in my decision.” He gestured Virgil to step inside. “Your overall work is beyond noteworthy and while the one drawing is A factor for my decision to hire you, it is not The factor. Your work shows a much larger variety than any others I’ve seen.” 

“The thing weighs a ton, I would hope it would show some range.” Roman said, flipping through the various works much faster than Logan had. 

A pity. His brother wouldn't be able to see the intricacies of each piece doing that, though of course he had encouraged Roman to look at one particular page. 

“I wouldn’t think you’d mind the size, Roman. You are the one interviewing for ‘fresh blood’ are you not or was there another reason you were whining to me just last night about the lack of talent in your department?” 

His brother made a face, not looking up as he kicked the door shut. "A Prince does not whine! I merely bemoan the lack of talent the kids these days ha--WHAT!?" Roman shrieked, loud enough Logan was sure the entire building heard him as he stared dumbfounded at page twenty-eight.

Bingo. Logan smirked, adjusting his glasses as closed the blinds on the windows to keep curious eyes at bay. He could already imagine the bets that Remy would be putting down on why ‘The Prince’ had screamed this time.

Roman whirled to Virgil, practically shoving the picture into the kid’s startled face. "You drew this?!" 

Virgil blinked down at the Sallyized version of Jack Skellington before raising an eyebrow. "Yes?"

Roman's eyes lit up like a kid at Christmas as he set the portfolio down on his desk and pulled out his phone, swiping at the screen before he turned it to them both showing an online art account with the same exact drawing with the same stormcloud signature on the bottom. "You're telling me this is you? That you're--!"

"EmoKnightmare478?" Virgil ran his hand through his hair. “Yah. That's me, Princey, but how--why?" 

“YES!” Roman cried out, grabbing Logan’s his hands as he practically broke into a dance, waltzing them around the room before he switched to jumping up and down like an excited child at Christmas with Logan doing his best to just turn with his brother’s antics so he wouldn’t lose his hands. "YES YES YES YES YES YES!!! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT, LOGAROO!! YOU FOUND STORMCLOUD! HE APPLIED! HE WANTS TO WORK--!! LOGAN! AHHHHH!!!!" 

“Am I...missing something here?” Virgil asked, resting a hand on his artwork, safely keeping his distance from Roman’s prancing.

“Roman’s been a fan of your account for the past couple of years.” Logan said simply, looking over his shoulder at their new hire. “He looks forward to seeing your bi-montly updates like one looks forward to opening presents at Christmas.”

Virgil went white, his other hand reaching to grab onto the desk as he swayed. “A Fan?” He squeaked. 

"OF COURSE!!” Roman finally freed Logan from his finger-numbing grip to fall down to his knees at Virgil’s feet, arms spread wide.  “Do you know how much I positively adore your twist on a Nightmare Before Christmas series, Emo Knightmare?” He asked eagerly. “Tell me. What would it take to commission you to draw the entire cast Sallyized for me? One large painting to hang there over my desk? Anything's on the table. Name your price." 

“I--I--” Virgil leaned back away from Roman’s onslaught, glancing to his portfolio on the desk. 

At this rate, Virgil would bolt because his brother was acting like a starstruck fangirl. Logan exhaled, grabbing Roman by the shoulder. “Roman, perhaps you should tone down the adoration and stop terrorizing your new hire?”

“He’s--He’s not--” Virgil drew in a shallow breath. 

Logan shook his head. “Well...even if he’s not, I shall assuage your fears anyway. You will still have your job even if you refuse, Virgil. Crofters forbid it doesn’t do Roman any harm to be told no every now and then.” He didn’t need him thinking that his twin wouldn’t hire him if he said no.

“Oh yes, your job isn’t ever in question with this, Stormcloud.” Roman said, slipping out from under Logan’s hand as he pushed to his feet and brushed off his pants. “Specs hired you and from what I’ve seen so far, I second it, but.” His eyes went wide and pleading as he clasped his hands together. “I will be very very very heartbroken and will be giving you super sad puppy dog eyes like this everytime you see me for the next--”

“Three hours?” Logan asked, adjusting his glasses as he pulled his brother back another step to give Virgil space to breathe.

Roman made a face. “I was gonna say a week, but probably.” 

Virgil swallowed, licking his lips. “You...really would…pay me? The Prince? Would...pay me?” 

“Of course! I said--” Roman turned to Logan. “Did I not say that, Lo? Any price. I said that!”

“You did indeed.” Logan nodded, though he could see how Virgil wouldn’t be certain. Despite his flamboyance, Roman was rather covert in buying from up and coming artists. He’d yet to hear any rumors of rumors from anyone that ‘The Prince’ had bought their work. He could see why there would be skepticism at the genuinity of Roman’s offer.

“Great! Here.” Roman took Virgil by the arm, pulling him to a seat at his desk. “Specs will draw up your contract for the position. Wages, hours, so on and so forth. I trust he was quite thorough in whatever interview he gave you right before you found me right? Right. But you and I.” He smiled conspiracaly, pulling up a chair. “Need to talk shop. Come on. Commission. How much?” 

Logan rolled his eyes, but sat behind Roman’s desk, his fingers already flying over the keyboard of his brother’s desktop to pull up the necessary forms to print out. “Of course, leave the boring paperwork to me.” 

“It’s what you’re good at Specs.” Roman waved vaguely in his direction, his full attention on Virgil. “Come on Virge, can I call you Virge? Name your price.” 

“I--I---Okay...uhmmm. Well…” Virgil rubbed the back of his head before dropping his hand to where Roman had touched him. “Were you actually wanting one large painting of everyone together or individual pieces that form a scene if placed side by side? 

Roman’s eyes lit up as he leaned forward. “I was thinking the former, but the latter intrigues me. What would be the difference?” 

“Well…” The corner of Virgil’s mouth twitched as he rested a hand on his portfolio. “You said name my price. Does it have to be just...monetary?” 

Logan shared a knowing look with his brother, identical smiles breaking out on both of their faces. 

Oh, their new hire was going to fit in rather well here if he was already thinking like that.

“No, no it does not.” Roman sat back placing his fingers together. “What were you thinking instead? A higher wage? A better position?”

Logan tensed. Why had Roman brought that up?! It was--

Virgil’s mismatched eyes darkened as he shook his head. “I told you, Princey, I’m not here because of blackmail or bribing. Personal commissions are and will always be considered separate from my job here. I won’t argue for things that I haven’t yet proven that I deserve.” 

That was--that was good. Logan slowly let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his fingers frozen on the keys. 

“Alright...but if your asking price doesn’t include money, power, or position.” Roman raised an eyebrow. “What then are you wanting me to pay in?”

Virgil visibly swallowed. “Well, I would charge per character of course, and for Jack.” He placed a trembling hand on his portfolio. “My price--” He licked his lips, but didn’t break eye contact. “My price would be that I can wear my hoodie to work.” 

Logan blinked. A...hoodie?

He again shared a look with Roman. It was an interesting choice, especially after his talk of not interfering with work, but then again, it was just an article of clothing. One that may put Virgil more at ease here than the ill fitting suit he currently wore. 

Logan returned his attention to the laptop. “You are aware that our dress code is--” 

“Business casual, yes.” Virgil said, pulling at the collar of his shirt, his fingers trailing down his tie. “And I can,” the corner of his mouth twitched in distaste. “follow that to a T, if this particular option doesn’t work for you, I promise. You just said--”

“Name any price.” Roman nodded, pulling out a pen and paper, quickly listing down a dozen characters from the movie. “For Jack.” He said circling the name and writing wear hoodie at work next to it. “I would allow the hoodie--but only at your desk. Any meetings, presentations, or red carpet events you’ll need to nix it.” 

Virgil let out a breath, relaxing as he gave them a large genuine smile. “Deal.”

To Be Continued Chapter 5

Taglist in Reblog

[propertyofnikkisthighs]

She’s My Collar pt. 3

Trigger warning: Mentions of domestic abuse

“It’s been 3 days Riv. You’re gonna have to talk to me about what the fuck happened the other day.” Tommy says standing on my balcony smoking a cigarette.

How do I even begin to explain myself though? I swipe his pack of cigarettes off the railing and light one taking a drag. Tommy raises an eyebrow at my actions, but otherwise is non reactive to the nasty habit I’ve picked up and quit for what felt like a million times.

“I’ve known Kevin most of my life.” I start, my voice already beginning to shake. “He is a few years older than me and worked on my grandparent’s farm and I was head over heels for him. Like I used to follow him around as he cleaned the barns level in love because he was always so kind and sweet to me.”

Tommy just nods his head along and I continue.

“We got married right after I graduated high school and that was when he stopped being so sweet. He found he preferred cuddling a bottle of vodka at night a lot more than he liked cuddling up with me. Then, instead of hitting the bottles, he hit me.”

Tommy’s hand curls into a fist at his side and he blows hard out of his nose. “Go on” he says and I can tell he’s working on keeping his cool.

“When I found out I was pregnant the beatings stopped for a little bit. He, um, seemed really happy for a while and I really thought this was what we needed to be happy again. Boy was I wrong.” I hadn’t even realized tears were streaming down my face until I felt them hitting my trembling hands in my lap.

“He came home one night drunker than I had ever seen him and meaner than he had any right to be and just let loose on me. A neighbor heard me screaming thank god and called the cops or I might have died that night along with our baby. We come from a pretty small town so there wasn’t much help for me to leave him, most people thought it wasn’t their business. About a month later I took every last dime I had, all the clothes I could carry, and left my ring and the life I had under ‘Rebecca’ there and came to L.A.. That was about a year ago.”

I looked down to see Tommy had silently slipped his hands into mine as I was recounting the story that I had hoped to never have to explain to anybody. He rubbed his thumb against the back of my hand and took a deep breath.

“I promise you Riv, I will kill him if he so much as looks at you again.” I’m soon crushed against Tommy’s chest in a tight hug and I would be lying if I said it wasn’t the safest I had ever felt in the last year. Hell, the last few years.

“Thank you Tommy, but I don’t want you boys to get caught in the crossfire.”

“What else will you do then?” He asks quietly.

“Probably pack up and move elsewhere. Somewhere he can’t find me.”

“No.” Tommy says standing straight up. “No you can’t leave Riv we just started being friends.” He paces back and forth on the small balcony while lighting another cigarette.

“You guys are on your way to doing big shit T-Bone. I can’t get in the way of that.”

“That’s even more of a reason to let the guys and I protect you?” He says as if it’s obvious. “Besides, you’re our photographer. Who else is going to capture all the nudity on camera?”

“You know for a second there you weren’t a gross pig.” I try to not mirror Tommy’s face splitting grin, but I’m not that strong.

“Atta girl.” He bounces up and walks in my house as if he lives there and calls behind him “Come on let’s go to the diner for pancakes. My treat.” I didn’t question how he earned the money to pay this time. I knew it was rarely legal.

I double over laughing in the booth for nearly the tenth time at another story of the stupid shit Tommy has done. We’re the same age, but I can’t help but feel inferior in the life I’ve lived. Besides packing up and moving out of town to come to L.A. on a whim, I haven’t done anything exciting. Tommy has had enough experiences for two lives.

“So anyway Nikki comes up with the genius idea to stick our dicks in breakfast burritos to cover up any scent that we had just fucked these other chicks. Cause like our girlfriends couldn’t know right?” He pauses to sip his Coke and pours the rest of his Jack shooter into my coffee.

“Tommy Lee!” I scold in a hushed whisper.

“Let me finish my story. So anyway me, Sixx, and Vinnie are basically fucking these burritos in the back of my van at the ass crack of dawn to all go home to our girlfriends because Vince wanted to fuck a bride to be at her bachelorette party.” Tommy stuffs more pancakes into his shit eating grin.

“Tommy you guys are insane. How the hell am I friends with you lunatics? Mick is the least insane one and he’s hardly around.” I laugh sipping my spiked coffee wincing only a tiny bit at the burn of the whiskey.

“You just haven’t known Mick long enough. He gets crazy too.” He wags his eyebrows at me suggestively “And you get to capture those moments on film”

“Oh lucky me.” I feign excitement and he tosses a sugar packet hitting me in the face. The walk back to the apartment from the diner is filled with just as many laughs as our meal was and my cheeks are starting to hurt from smiling. Tommy has one arm slung around my shoulder while his other swings at his side besides when he takes a puff of his cigarette. Tommy is everything my parents would’ve hated to see me hanging around with, let alone being as close with him as we are now. He had long dark hair, wore make up, and the only real work ethic he had was put into his drumming (that’s not to say he didn’t have work ethic they just wouldn’t have seen it that way).

“Ya wanna know something Riv?” Tommy asks looking everywhere that isn’t at me.

“I wanna know everything at all times.” I joke and he hip checks me lightly. A grin spreads across his face and I wonder if his cheeks hurt like mine from smiling so much.

“You have huge eyes.” He says finally.

I stop in my tracks and stare at him mouth agape.

“Tommy Lee are you making fun of me?!” I shriek and he’s double over laughing at my expression.

“I’m kidding! Well kinda.” I shove at him lightly and begin to walk away, but his hand in mine stops me from leaving him to laugh on his own and we resume walking together to the apartment this time hand in hand.

“What I was actually gonna say was-” Tommy’s grip on my hand tightens and a scary look casts over his features.

I follow his line of sight to see Kevin speaking to the landlord that lived on the floor level. It looked like he hadn’t noticed us yet and I wanted to keep things that way. I tug Tommy’s hand trying to pull him up the stairs to our floor out of his line of sight.

“Oh am I interrupting date night?” I hear behind me. Busted.

“Kevin. Not now.” I hiss not wanting to draw any attention to us.

“I’m sorry did I your HUSBAND interrupt your date with your new fuck buddy?” Kevin raises his voice.

“I’m only going to tell you once dude, don’t fucking talk to her like that.” Tommy growls out between grit teeth.

“Hey nobody tells me how to talk to my fucking wife.” Kevin steps closer. Tommy doesn’t step back being that it’s hard to be intimidated by a man at least six inches shorter than you. “She left you bro. Get the fuck over it and move on.” Tommy had somehow maneuvered me behind him and positioned himself in front of me. Kevin clearly didn’t take kindly to that.

“Listen, dick head, I’m not leaving without my fucking wife. You can find someone new to fuck in a city like this. I guarantee she isn’t the only whore”

And that’s when I hear it, the sound of a fist connecting with a face and teeth clanking together. Tommy is on Kevin before I even have time to full process that a punch was thrown. Tommy had the element of surprise and uses that to his advantage to land a few good punches to Kevin’s face. Kevin’s foot connects with Tommy’s gut and gives him the opportunity to get up and land a few punches of his own.

“Guys please stop!” I’m shouting trying to get them off each other without getting hit. I know there’s nothing I can do physically so I do the only thing I can think of doing. And I scream for Nikki.

Nikki is pulling Tommy off of Kevin who looks worse for wear than I had ever seen him. Kevin’s lip is busted, he’s got a black eye forming, and there is blood coming from both a cut on the top of his nose and from his nose in general. Tommy has a small cut on his cheek, also what looks like a black eye coming, and is bleeding from somewhere inside his mouth because he spits blood on Kevin. Kevin charges at him again, but is knocked on his ass by Nikki kicking him square in the gut.

“Enough!” Nikki screams and a small part of me is scared by the sound.

I don’t bother to make sure Kevin is okay before I follow the boys up to our floor. I race into my own apartment to grab some painkillers, a washcloth,  and a bag of frozen peas for Tommy. When I get into their apartment I see Tommy downing some whiskey from the bottle and he tries to smile at me and winces. I gently pluck the bottle from his hand and set it on the counter next to him. I run the washcloth under water and begin to clean the blood off his face. He hisses as I dab at the cut on his cheek and lip trying to be gentle so I don’t make the bleeding start again.

“Hey River, could you maybe not try to get my drummer killed?” Nikki jokes knocking back some of the whiskey. Tears well up in my eyes despite me knowing there’s no malice behind his words.

“I’m so sorry Tommy.” I sob tears cascading down my face.

“Hey, hey shhh” Tommy tries to console me by hugging me to him. “These things, they happen. Hang out with Sixx and I long enough and you’ll be bailing us out of jail in no time.”

“Fuck I’m surprised you haven’t already.” Nikki pipes up.

“This is all my fault if you wouldn’t have tried to stick up for me you wouldn’t have gotten hit.”

“I swung first.” He chuckles rubbing my back.

“Atta boy!” Nikki bellows and we all have a good laugh at that. “I don’t know about you guys, but I could sure use a fucking shot.” Tommy tosses back two painkillers and washes them down with a swig of whiskey offering the bottle to me.

“Fuck it.” I shrug and down two big gulps and pass the bottle to Nikki. He’s clapping me on the back while I hold the frozen peas to Tommy’s eye and pretend I can’t feel Tommy’s thumb rub tiny circles on my thigh where I’m standing between his legs. And I pretend the warmth I feel is from the alcohol and not because of the way he looks at me.