#i love that i press down so hard in sketch phase no matter what you can see my sketvh there if its tradiational. lol

[cervideity]

theyre like gummy worms to me

[illusionsofdreaming]

How about a Cale proposing/asking out Reader for marriage/date?? I love your fics and this is just a thought that I often imagine (It's usually people asking him out but this might be a nice change!? I think...)

Ft: Cale

Tap tap tap tap tap-

It was the soothing rhythmic sound of not getting anything done. Concentration having long since fled the premises as he stared blankly at the notes on the table, watched as the blue nib danced up and down and up and down again.

The notes were important he supposed but his heart wasn’t into it, mind occupied and consistently distracted by a particular receipt on his table.

It’s been several days and he has yet to hear a reply.

He’s not quite sure what to make of it. Certain social rules of this world clashed with his modern-day knowledge of social cues. One would think he’d have an advantage as one who transmigrated into a novel he’d read, but The Birth of a Hero never properly introduced the social decorum of the world in detail. 

Perhaps the only reason he made it thus far with his half baked knowledge of etiquette was thanks to Cale’s trashy reputation which, ironically enough, made people more accepting of his faux pas. Alas, if it weren’t for Hans’ persistent nagging that he should handle this important matter ‘the proper way’, he really wouldn’t have bothered. Now he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place. Would it mean anything if he were to send a follow up letter? Or perhaps he should go there himself-

A knock on his door distracted him from his thoughts and he glanced up to see the origin of his headaches, Hans, peek in. 

“Young master, you have guests from the _________ household and-“

Cale was out the doors before Hans finished.

⚛》》》》》◆《《《《《⚛

Despite having your back to him it was almost embarrassing how quickly he was able to pick you out amidst the crowd of people.

“__________.” He greeted, snow crunching beneath his boots as he neared your side, he hoped his breathing wasn’t too quick as he’d rushed over as soon as he’d learn of your visit. The burning question rested on the tip of his tongue, the cure-all to his worries as he reached for your hand. “I have been wait-“

“Cale! Just the person I wanted to see!” You turned, smile brightening your features as you pulled him closer, close enough that he could see how the cold had already kissed your cheeks pink. 

“Did you receive-“

“Yes, that’s why I’m here!” 

A flutter of nerves was set alight in his chest that made him weirdly jittery. How unusual. He’d always been so assured of the results of his plans (and he’s confident in his prediction of your response) yet he couldn’t help but feel flustered. He understood nothing of this world’s customs and Hans did mention a response would’ve usually been sent by letter. Does you coming here in person symbolise something he’s not getting again?

Something was pressed into his hand and his heartrate spiked uncomfortably as he glanced down to receive the scroll you passed to him.

He hesitated, frowning at the brown parchment. Noting the ugly frayed edges and wondering, why couldn’t you have just told him what’s written within since you’ve travelled all the way here anyways.

“Take a look.” you urged him and he sighed.

“Can’t you-“ his words faltered off abruptly as he unfurled the paper to reveal a mess of lines and sketches, his mind blanked as he stared uncomprehending at the contents. “W.. what is this..”

“Isn’t it exciting?” you glanced at the paper, delight and unadulterated joy shone through your eyes. “The designs for the waterways are finally complete! We can finally move onto the next phase, I’ve even gathered the others to discuss this! It shouldn’t take long, we just need to iron out the logistics and-“

He’d tuned out as he stared at prototype on the page, his mind struggled sluggishly to make sense of what’s happening. Cale’s expression remained carefully blank as he lifted his head up to look at you and finally noticed the circle of vassals awkwardly standing around them. 

Huh? 

⚛》》》》》◆《《《《《⚛

“..implementation of the new waterways will greatly improve the situation in the slums and if we...” 

If looks could set things on fire, the conference table would’ve long turned to ashes with how hard Cale’s been glaring. He had rested his two elbows on the oak table, fingers weaved together to create a net that supported his chin. To others, the firstborn son of the Henituse household may seemed to be in a contemplative mood, in truth, Cale had zoned out since the very beginning.

Perhaps there’s been a mistake. Maybe you did not receive it or perhaps he’d missed another social cue. Did he unknowingly commit another taboo?

“…Cale?”

He shouldn’t have listened to Hans’ ridiculous suggestions when he knew he had no patience for the roundabout and overly complex ways people liked to handle things here. He ran a tired hand past his face. Right, next thing he’s going to change in this world would be the removal of all redundant and confusing social constructs. First, he’ll start with the books on courtroom etiquette-

“Cale.”

A hand landing on his shoulder jolted him from his thoughts and he looked up to meet your frustrated gaze. He gaped, caught off guard by your ire.

Your long sigh pricked at his conscience but you interrupted him before he could explain himself. “I sent the others out for a break.” You sat on the edge of the table facing him, although clearly annoyed, there was concern in the slight dip of your brows.

“You’ve been distracted the entire meeting Cale.” 

He rubbed the back of his neck, pressing against the tension building there. “Sorry.” He admitted softly. 

“Is something on your mind?”

You. 

“It’s nothing.” To admit that his thoughts were in shambles all because of an unanswered letter would’ve been far too pathetic. Gods, when have he fallen so low. “I need a drink.” he decided abruptly and would’ve gotten up and escaped, but you knew him too well. With a subtle shift of your weight that looked all too natural, you leaned forward and your two hands rested against his armrests to support yourself in a comfortable lean, effortlessly and efficiently caging him in. 

“Cale.” Your tone broke no argument. It was clear he was not going anywhere until he cleared this matter up.

He sighed, slumping against the chair in defeat as he dragged his gaze slowly upwards with the reluctance of a child who’d just been caught with their hands in the cookie jar and was now forced to admit their wrongdoings. He hesitated when he caught a glimmer of something on your shirt. 

Somewhere along the meeting, as the room got warmer you must’ve taken off your thinner overcoat, it would’ve explained why he hadn’t noticed such an obvious accessory from the beginning. But now that he had laid eyes on it, Cale can’t seem to look away. His hand reached out cautiously, brushing over delicate work, the building tension within him eased away as he reminiscences at the nostalgic sight. 

It had only been several weeks ago when he’d went out to find the best jeweller in the Kingdom to have a specific brooch made. A bright golden shield with the Henituse’s family mascot emblazoned on, two magnificent rubies inlaid as eyes. 

With the solid feeling of the brooch under his fingers, his previous worries melted off like sleet to be replaced with an indescribable warmth in his chest.

“It suits you.” he finally says. It really does. 

Cale never liked things made in his honor, but something about you wearing his symbol made him feel a lot of things. 

Your rumble of laughter made him look up and you brushed a hand through his locks, amusement in your eyes. “Is that it? That’s what’s been bothering you all morning?” you mused.

He snorted and slumped forward, resting his face on your lap. “You wouldn’t reject it.”

“Confident, aren’t we?” you laughed and carded your fingers through his hair.

It was the truth which you both knew. He had never been a stickler for rules. The relationship between you happened as a gradual process, you two clicked and it just eased into your daily routine and became the norm. There was never any need or desire to announce it officially. But as someone who transmigrated into this world, who also decided to continue living in it, he wanted to do it your way. Because in the end, even if it was bothersome, annoying and baffled his 21st century mind, the gesture would mean something to you.

Now that he’s solved the mystery, satisfied he didn’t botch up some weird etiquette, he had time to analyse the day’s events and realised one thing. He lifted his head from your lap, “You orchestrated this. The waterways weren’t that urgent.” he deadpanned, stuck between feeling awe that you took all the effort to tease him and indignation that you’d dare.

“It’s not often one gets the chance to fluster you.” you admitted, not at all feeling guilty when you got the chance to witness his bewilderment first hand.

“Aigoo..” he clicked his tongue and in one swift movement, stood from his seat, forcing you to lean back as his arms landed by your sides, effectively reversing your positions. “You’d bother the vassals for this, how bold.”

You blinked innocently up at him. “I bothered no one actually, they all volunteered to help.”

He frowned. Traitors. The whole lot of them. He could actually hear them cheering outside the room. He’s going to have to tell Basen to talk to them about their loyalties soon. Well. Not that it would matter much. He glanced down at the gleaming brooch on your chest and his lips twitched into a satisfied smile despite himself. 

Perhaps there’s a reason behind such silly traditions after all.

Notes: So I combined these two asks because they’re pretty similar and to answer your questions: I believe Cale’s not one for grand gestures and formal things but he’ll occasionally abide by certain traditions if it has special meanings and especially if it’d mean something to you. 

[fe-semi-decent-scenarios]

Hey! I wasnt the one who requested it, but I loved your how would the Blue Lions react to killing their SO! May I ask the same but for the Golden Deer if its alright?

{That was actually one of my favorite requests to write! It’s been a long time so I might be a bit rusty, but let’s give this a shot :)} 

Claude: 

 He had accounted for the possibility of you betraying him. Your disappearance had not been something he took with ease, yet the lack of contact or declaration of death for so long had him thinking 

Emotions are fleeting...the human mind was complex. Your loyalty was never something he wanted to question but he could never put his complete faith in you 

Even when you stood at his side protecting the crests, befriended his people, treated him as a true partner...he just couldn’t completely put his faith in you. Not with so much on the line 

 He wonders if that’s where he went wrong. Heavy rain clouded his sight but the sound of your voice rang dominant across the field. As you stand at Gronder with your weapon focused on his friends- your friends; Claude could not help but momentarily reminisce over the times you instead showed him your smile. The one that temporarily alleviated the weight of his dreams and expectations from his shoulders 

He would be the one to get it back. The professor had already converted other students to their side so there was a chance 

One you didn’t want, as you aimed at their head with tears pricking your eyes. He dismounted his wyvern instantly 

“Was it all a lie? Tell me...is this what you want for your home (Y/N)? Come fight with us” He slowly begins his approach, but the words die out as you attack him this time 

 A shrill battle cry is all he hears before he watches an axe lodge into your side. He’ll never hear the answer, but he didn’t need to. It finally clicked

White hair 

You planned to die 

His brows pressed in further as Lysithea gasped at your fallen form. Before he would have killed to know more about the hidden experiments going on in the empire, but not like this. They’ll come to collect the body before Hanneman can conduct any research, but he’ll give them more. Much more 

Raphael: 

Raphael doesn’t like to think on the battlefield. It’s not that he enjoys pummeling people without a glance, but if he looks back then he won’t look foreword. He’s confided in Ignatz many times after being scolded for running ahead, but when thinking can cost you your life he prefers not to waste the effort 

 Especially because he takes longer to process complex emotions and thoughts compared to the others. He trusts them to be tactical while he uses his muscles to save the day

Back in the day he had a perfectly reliable head to think for him. He cleared their path and they took care of all the important business. The classic ‘brains and brawn’ duo that no one would expect to ever find genuine interest in one another. Aren’t they stereotypically supposed to fight and be at each other’s throats? Not in this case 

“Haha! THAT WAS GREAT! Nice Job (Y/N), I hope today’s menu has meat because you need brain food and I need to feed my muscles!” 

 You knew Raphael and how to predict his movements, and he had complete faith in your judgements. Even at the monastery you both made the most efficient team to do chores  

 Instead of trying to change him, you worked to match his pace and became his partner. On the field and in life. Raphael knew he didn’t have to second guess with you at his side, and he felt what he wanted to feel.

He loved you. Your brains, your laugh, your heart, your cooking no matter good or bad...you. It was an emotion that came easy to him.

Though sometimes he berated himself for not thinking. Sometimes you’d get in trouble if he broke equipment or did something else out of line. Yet you remained patient and calmed him down at the same time.

It was difficult to adjust to fighting without his partner. He essentially had to relearn everything through experience, but he had full hope that you’d come back 

That hope clouded his judgement when he saw you conversing with the professor at Aillel. He was so overcome with joy that he mindlessly pushed aside enemies to get to you without actually examining the scene

His fury took over when the professor’s sword went straight through your stomach.  He tackled them to the ground and it took both Lorenz AND Hilda to pry him away. 

“You idiot! They’re the enemy!” Hilda shouted at him as he settled down. He couldn’t process it. They wouldn’t hurt their family, him.

 Yet, they wore red. Red that grew darker as their blood seeped in 

 Ignatz: 

“Can you paint my portrait?” You asked him one evening long ago. After a particularly grueling training session with the rest of class he had snuck off to sketch the trees by the market. The year was young and he still wasn’t too familiar with all his classmates 

You were new and he had took to your appearance instantly. He could replay your introduction mentally over and over. Your smooth words, slight bow, and the way your feet glided effortlessly to the closest seat you could get to the window. He was of course too shy to approach a new student since he wasn’t the social sort, but luckily he did not have to do much. 

You took the liberty of following him to his painting spot. He was flustered at being found, but you merely plopped at his side and began to eat your lunch. Where you had it stashed beforehand? He still doesn’t know 

 He had never been more aware of another’s presence, and his art showed it as the paper crinkled in his grasp. Yet somehow you seemed enamored at the picture forming on the page, so much that you asked to model 

He grew anxious instantly and decided to head back for his own meal. With no given answer you had left the topic behind, and from then on he began to find you nearby often. From acquaintances to friends, and from friends to ‘lovers without definition’. No confession was ever spoken but he knew you made decisions easier, life joyful, and the rest of his peers agreed as much as he. 

He drew that portrait. He drew it over, and over, and over, and over because he refused to forget your face. He would remember you and fight twice as hard to make up for what you couldn’t give. He swore that to Claude and everyone else when you were pronounced missing in action.

 and now? His eyes glisten as a body fitted under a white tarp lays yards away. You hadn’t tried to harm him but you were healing the enemy. It was decided that you were not with the Empire, but instead travelling through and became swept in the battle. Perhaps you didn’t know? Perhaps you simply decided to help whoever needed it no matter their side? 

He clutches his bow to his chest. One arrow, and you were down. He didn’t know 

He didn’t know but the pictures would never let him forget. The pages never felt the same from then on 

Lorenz: 

Relationships should never be formed unless you have something to gain

It is a nobleman’s duty to protect the weak, the poor, the sick; yet, there must always be distance.

A nobleman must always carry themselves with a sense of professionalism. They must not display weakness, and a true leader is born of being able to separate their personal affairs from that of those they govern. 

 One day Lorenz will be the head of the Glouscer territory, and soon the Alliance as a whole if he has his way. Death must not phase him and he must be willing to sacrifice everything for the sake of his people

He follows the laws of a noble. He knows them on paper, but not in practice. 

 Only as he grew during an age of dispute and fighting did he begin to learn that actions differ from voice. All that he pledged as a young man held no meaning, because gradually he began to realize that he is not the most fit to govern Fodlan. He was incapable of completely tossing aside his personal desires or making the best decisions with certainty. Yes, he was well educated and would make a great right hand

Yet the title of leader would never be his. Why? Because he is a noble by definition 

The professor was a noble by heart. A true leader who let actions speak for them and selflessly protected the entirety of Fodlan instead of one singular portion.

 Lorenz is a noble in name, but in nature he is a man. He is a solider, a son, a friend, a politician...a human. One not immune to temptations or the grievances of loss no matter what face he may display for the public eye.

 There was a soul he once found vibrant. They were a mere commoner yet full of dedication. He placed a barrier around them immediately, one he was not allowed to cross no matter how tempted. They did not fit the criteria he sought

 Yet the night of the ball he allowed “them”  the curtesy of a dance. Their warm hand on his own, their body held tightly in his embrace, and lighthearted small talk being tossed between quips about their poor dancing skills 

They left his mouth dry as he bid them farewell to their next partner. He allowed the barrier to resurface as he went his own way

“You must rethink this (Y/N). How could siding with the empire lead to any promising future/ They will kill us all and then themselves in the process! Please, join us” 

“Spoken like a true noble, Lorenz. This social hierarchy has divided people for too long and you would realize that if you’d only look beyond Alliance borders!” 

If only he had grasped their hand longer- listened. They were the first to show him a world beyond his bubble, if only he popped it sooner. 

 Hilda:

You really annoyed her in the beginning. The way you carried yourself like some kind of prophet, or how you’d question everything the professor taught. Was it so hard to just do what was needed and move on? Even with something as simple as weeding the courtyard you always had to add your own two cents

It was like always being under analysis. She got that enough from Claude and didn’t need two people trying to read her. On many occasions she tried to gain traction over you, but somehow her efforts never bore fruit 

For a try-hard you were very accepting of her shortcomings. So long as what you were tasked with got done, the performance of others was never a secondary priority 

If only she could be that carefree about other people’s opinions. Maybe then living would be easier? 

Perhaps you were what she wanted to be? Satisfied with who you were enough to question the world around you while remaining secure with what you had 

Someone with the ability to step beyond your comfort zone and make your own decisions. Respected, knowledgeable...loved for who you are. Maybe that’s what drew her to you and lead to her envy forming into adoration 

and that adoration being trampled by sorrow 

“I still love you so no hard feelings, okay? I can’t back down” is what she told you. It was a taunt, but she did not expect your smile 

“Of course. I’m glad you’ve decided to show your backbone, just think of this as a spar like old times”

The casual talk did not fit the clash of blades that followed. Nor did it suit the battle roaring nearby 

A spar- just like old times. It was a familiar battle but this time her axe did not halt before delivering the deciding blow. 

Her hands shook as your body fell, yet you still appeared at peace despite the gash adorning your back. Perhaps you knew this would be the outcome before the day even began

Hilda did not cry, but asked for you to be buried on alliance soil. If anything she owed you that curtesy

Leonie: 

She would never forgive you. Not today, not ever. 

How dare you choose to side with the people who killed the captain? He never did anything to anybody, and if you chose to betray everyone than Leonie would return the favor

She decided that any history between you two was nonexistent the moment you lifted your weapon. Mercy was a word you forgone long ago when instead of defending Garreg Mache, you slaughtered it’s inhabitants 

She thought you felt the same as well. Yet, fate always liked to twist in ways to hinder justice 

She watched from a distance as the professor approached your fallen form. They had insisted on trying to sway her old classmates, but she scoffed at the mere thought 

What made them think traitors would be good allies? Did they want to be stabbed in the back like their father?...like the captain 

She ignored the sting in her chest as you swatted their hand away. You had some nerve to reject their kindness and it pissed her off. She wanted this entire situation to simply end but- 

Her feet moved on their own

“Why are you such an idiot? Were you always this irresponsible?” her words cut deep, clearly shown by how you turned away. She could only grit her teeth at the stubbornness and reach for her lance 

You made your choice, and clearly it was up to her to deliver justice if no one else would 

So she did what she’s always had to do, the brunt work. With one swing it was over and you were just another count among the others 

She doesn’t know if the captain would praise her for remaining strong or scold her for remaining indifferent 

Lysithea: 

Everything always boils down to one thing: people cannot be trusted. Each and every time Lysithea has allowed someone close it has blown up in her face 

and somewhere deep down, she knew this situation wouldn’t have ended any differently. The world always found new ways to crush what she cared for 

The only question that remains is how much longer will she have to endure? How much longer did she have to fight? 

because now she had to fight for two. She had to find a cure or die trying 

During the battle for Garreg Mache many had been taken prisoner. She hadn’t the empire to conduct unethical experiments; maybe torture, but nothing like what she was witnessing. 

It was a fever dream one couldn’t fathom, but the mindless husk killing without remorse kept her in reality. What had they done to you?

She noticed the white hair in an instant. One of her worst fears had come to life seeing you at the death knight’s side, but the way you hadn’t even flinched when she called your name made her terrified 

Not even a whack of thoron could snap you out of it. She began to lose hope...were you even there anymore? Is this what they had planned for her if she didn’t flee?

“Say something you jerk! Don’t tell me you’re letting some petty magic keep you grounded, fight it!” 

No matter what anyone said it did nothing. When moral dwindled the only solution left was to free you through other means 

The death knight escaped after you fell. Next time...next time he would die at her hand. 

Lysithea instantaneously moved to further her research after your burial. Not for herself, but to find out if you were gone long before they found you. She needed to know if your death was peaceful, if you could see that she tried 

If you would forgive her 

Marianne: 

“This is Nova. I have to leave for a mission, would you watch him for me Marianne?”

 Bright blue eyes bored into hers as she gingerly took hold of the bunny. It’s fur was soft, well groomed. She took notice of how it snuggled into her arms as if it feared no human. Marianne knew instantly that the animal was well loved and cherished. The though made her almost refuse the favor in fear of hurting it, but her classmate’s insistence wasn’t something to fight. 

  Despite her warnings (Y/N) never listened, and at some point Marianne gave up on pushing them away. Their company was appreciated yet she would never say it, and the cuddly creature in her arms truly proved their trust in her 

 She could only nod in agreement as they skipped off to prepare the bunny’s necessities to bring to her room. Marianne hoped she could care for the animal properly, and that nothing would happen to it

She worried for the wrong reasons, as (Y/N) never returned home. They were sent to face Solon and avenge the death of the Professor’s father. Marianne was asked to remain and help in healing injured soldiers from the most previous confrontation. 

·If she knew that would have been the last time (Y/N) would show up in her room, she--no, she wouldn’t have done anything. She may have tried to convince them to stay home but Marianne knows she would have not confessed anything

  Not that she valued their friendship or that she worried for their wellbeing. Not that she was grateful they trusted her with Nova, or that they help her care for her horses. She wouldn’t have even thought it. 

 She didn’t think of it afterwards either. Her fondness for her deceased friend wouldn’t have been noticeable at all if not for the bunny. Despite everything she cared for it as if it were (Y/N) themselves. 

When she sees a familiar figure take charge at Gronder, time freezes. She remembers the bunny sitting in her dorm without an owner. She wonders how abandoned it must have felt to never see it’s best friend again. She feels for the bunny because it’s how she felt.

Without thinking she shoots a blast of magic their way and watches them crumple on the floor 

Why did they abandon their precious bunny? Did they give up on it? Did they give up on her? 

Did you...finally realize you had befriended a monster?

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

One Shot: Phobias 

Summary: Katie encounters an enemy FAR WORSE than anything she’s seen before. Can Steve saver her before it’s too late?

Pairings: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Language, Spiders, and a little bit of fluff

A/N: So this is a little one shot/drabble that came to me after my husband saved my life from a monster in the bathroom...

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 7

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

“SSSSTEEEEEEEEEVE!” 

The scream made the glass of water in Steve’s hand slip to the point he almost dropped it. Placing it down with a slam on the coffee table he stood up and bolted down the hall towards his bathroom only to be met by Katie, who was in her bra and denim shorts hurtling towards him.

“What is it?” He frowned, instantly placing himself between her and the bathroom, looking at the door.

“In there.” She muttered, and as her hands gripped at his hips he could feel her shaking behind him.

“Someone’s in there?” He looked over his shoulder and down at her.

She shook her head, stuttering a little in fear.  “I… just… I can’t…”

Steve was really puzzled now. Not a lot phased Katie Stark. She had fought alongside him in the battle of New York, facing off against God Knows how many Aliens. The year before she had tackled the Mandarin with her brother, then there was Loki in the Desert, countless missions with SHIELD, so what on Earth had got her so petrified, in his bathroom no less,  that she was trembling behind him?

“Stay here.” He instructed, gently before he crept forward and stepped to the bathroom. The door was wide open and he could see or hear nothing. Frowning he looked behind the door, in the tall cupboard that housed his toiletries, towels, bedsheets etc… all clear. He was just about to ask her what the fuck was going on when a movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He glanced into the shower cubicle and there was the culprit.

“Jesus Christ sweetheart.” He groaned, with a somewhat exasperated sigh as he looked at the spider. “You nearly gave me a heart attack. I thought someone had broken in and was about to kill you.”

“Something did break in!” She squeaked back, still from her spot in the hall “It’s gonna eat me!” Steve rolled his eyes to himself. It was nothing more than a house spider. A fairly big one, he had to admit, but utterly harmless. Nevertheless, he knew Katie was petrified of the damned things. She had admitted to him post an incident with one on a Quinjet that she had woken up when she was three with one on her face and had been scared witless of them ever since.

“Katie, it’s not gonna hurt you.” he reasoned.

“I don’t care!” her voice was high pitched “Incy Wincy fucking Gorilla needs to leave” That did make him laugh. “Okay, Okay.” His chuckles died down. “I’ll sort it. Don’t panic.” Luckily for her, spiders fascinated Steve. He had always found their webs a thing of beauty, and in the army had often wandered the woods early in the morning to see them speckled with dew in the growing light of the sunrise or frost in the winter, sketching the particularly intricate ones he found. He bent down, scooped the arachnid in to his hands careful to keep it enclosed and headed back into the hall. “Where is..is it IN YOUR HANDS?” She shrieked, eyes wide as she backed away from him. “Why didn’t you kill it?” “I’m not gonna kill it!” he said, shaking his head “It isn’t his fault you’re scared of him.” “But…”

“Honey, it’s fine, I’m gonna let it go outside!” He tried hard not to laugh at the sheer look of disgust and horror on her face. “Just open the door for me ok?”

“Outside outside or like the hall way outside?” She said, looking at him. He paused for a moment, he had been thinking just the hall- it was a house spider after all. But he could hear her reaction already- I’ll just come back under the door…

“Outside outside.” he confirmed, and her shoulders visibly sagged as she exhaled and headed to the doorway. She opened it, then backed away from him to let him out. Giving her a smile he headed outside, spider safely contained in his cupped hands as he headed down the stairs to the main door of his apartment block. Using his foot to keep the door jarred open, he stooped down and gently let the spider go. It scurried off and he wiped his hands on his jeans before he took the three flights back up to his floor two steps at a time. Katie was in the kitchen, still in her bra and shorts, a glass of water in her hand. He leaned in the doorway looking at her for a moment, smile playing on his lips. Even when she was being absurd he loved her.

“You can stop looking at me like that.” she said to him. 

“Like what?”

“Like you think I’m utterly ridiculous.

”Steve cut her off with a chuckle “You are utterly ridiculous.” he said, striding towards her to give her a hug. She let out a noise that was half chuckle, half groan as she pressed her face into his t-shirt. “But I love you, arachnophobia induced drama included.

”She stayed still, her cheek pressed into his chest as his hands gently held her close, palms warm on her bare back.

“Gonna go for my shower now.” She mumbled.

“Ok” he pressed a kiss to her head “You coming back out or going straight to bed?”

“Bed.”

“Alright, I won’t be far behind you.”

She smiled up at him, before she headed out of the room and he watched her go, her hips swaying gently as she walked. 

The water was hot as Katie stepped underneath it. She hated being that petrified of something as stupid as a spider, she really did. Logically she knew it was daft, they were so small in comparison to her. Tony had constantly told her whenever he had to rescue her from the eight-legged-freaks, ‘they’re more scared of you than you are of them’, but that was utter bollocks. Frankly, she’d take fighting off ten men single handed against dealing with one of them. 

With a sigh she washed her hair, turned the water off and then set about cleaning her teeth before she headed out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. Steve was already in there and as she walked into the room he gently tossed a clean t-shirt onto the bed for her and she grinned. She loved sleeping in his shirts, for no reason other than they were his. And he loved the fact she loved to sleep in them for the same reason. He dropped a kiss to her cheek and told her he was going for a shower himself before he headed into the bathroom himself. She dried off, braided her hair before shrugging the T-shirt and settling down between the sheets of his bed. Steve returned a little under ten minutes later, chest speckled with drops of water he hadn’t dried off completely.

“Honey do you want a drink or anything?”

“No I’m good, Stevie, thanks.” She mumbled, eyes closed as she snuggled further into the bed. He dressed in a pair of sweats, leaving his chest bare- another thing he’d started doing since they’d been sharing a bed as Katie much preferred snuggling into him like that- and he began the usual routine of checking the doors and windows before he returned and slipped under the covers next to her. She let out a sigh and moved so that her head was lay on his chest, her hand gently tangling into the smattering of dark blonde hair that was there. He could tell she was wide awake, pondering something. 

“What’s the matter?” he asked gently.

“Do you think I’m a dumbass, you know, because of the whole…spider thing? I know it’s ridiculous, but...”

Steve took a deep breath and moved so that he was led on his side, facing her. She pouted at being jostled off his chest and he smiled at the look of indignation on her face as he tucked a stray hand of hair behind her ear.

“Clowns.” he said gently. 

“What? What has that got-“

“I hate them.” He gave a little shrug. “They freak me out. Big time. Can’t stand to look at them let alone be in the same room as them.” “So that’s why you don’t wanna watch IT.” She smiled softly “You’re scared of Clowns?” He nodded “Once when we were kids, there was a Carnival down at Coney. Bucky and I went in this like maze thing. Contained a load of mirrors and stuff…but the last room you went in was basically nothing but clowns, and you had no idea which one was the mirror and which one was the real thing.” He gave a shudder at the memory and he felt his girl’s hands warm on his chest. “Well, when the damned thing moved I had a complete melt down, asthma attack, you name it…”

“Why have you never told me this before?”

“Doesn’t do my Captain Badass image any good, does it?”

“And my spider phobia doesn’t do mine any good.” She chuckled a little. “Especially seeing as one of my best friend’s goes by the code name Black Widow.” He gave a little chuckle and wrapped his arms around her, as she turned over to get comfortable. He pulled her to him, her back pressing to his chest, and closed his eyes as he wrapped himself around her. She sighed, happy to bask in his warmth.

“Thank you for rescuing me” She mumbled and he gave a laugh that vibrated through his chest into her.

“Isn’t that what a man is supposed to do? Be his Dame’s Knight in shining armour?”

“Yeah but most Knights slay fire breathing dragons…” she said, before pausing slightly. “Oh God can u imagine? A fire breathing spider?”  she shivered.

 “Ok. Honey, now you’re being ridiculous again.” he said, eyes still closed. 

“Hey, for all we know it could exist, like in the deepest, depths of Peru somewhere, just hasn’t been discovered…”

“Well, lucky for us we aint in Peru.” he said with a sigh, as he dropped a soft kiss to the back of her neck. “Now go to sleep.” 

**** Chapter 8

[soulwillower]

sketches • bill denbrough

(bill denbrough x reader)

requested: Hello! Can I request just some teen!Bill x reader fluff? Maybe where the reader finds sketches of her from Bill’s sketchbook/pad and then she falls in love with Bill, then Richie accidentally said something about Bill having a crush on her cause the trashmouth thought she already knew then after the reader found out, they talk and the reader confesses as well and it’s all fluffy and cute? I don’t know! I hope you get the idea though (ᵔᴥᵔ)

warning: swearing, fluff, unedited :)

[losers + reader are 16+ in this.]

1.7k words

♡

"can we shut some windows? it's getting cold." you ask your friends, rubbing your arms as goosebumps appear. mumbles of protest echo through the room and you scowl as their eyes all stay glued to the tv where eddie and ben battle out on smash bros. 

"fine. can i borrow a sweater then, bill?" you ask, standing up. bill nods, his eyes flickering to you to smile briefly.

 you smile back at him before getting up, making your way towards bill's room.

once you're inside, you flip on his lamp and snort. his room has always made you laugh - it's slightly messy, in a way that he's not ashamed of, and there's posters, pictures and a baseball bat in the corner. 

his sheets are strewn about, half of it on his bed and half covering an upturned skateboard on the ground. you roll your eyes, chuckling. bill's a fucking mess. 

your eyes land on an open sketchbook on his desk, pencils, pens, and paintbrushes covering it.

curiously, you walk over to look at it. you smile gently at the sketch of georgie holding up a dandelion, and you start to skim the pages. there's bev and mike on one page, richie and you on the next - that one makes you blush. the next page has eddie and richie smiling at each other. it makes you happy. 

then your heart stops as you look at the page next to it. you stare at yourself, drawn and shaded with layers of charcoal. it looks exactly like you. 

your heart does somersaults as your eyes trace the page and you flip the next few pages gently. bill drew you... so many times. they were meticulous, careful, and beautiful, like he'd spent hours pouring in as much dedication as he could.

your own eyes stare back at you from the pages and for the first time in a really long time you felt seen in a way you never knew you needed. realization hits you hard and your heart thumps, a smile growing on your face.

you love bill.

you love him - the boy with the auburn hair, the green eyes, the boyish grin, the bubbling laughter, the beat up vans, the flannels and crewneck sweaters. the boy who spends hours making sure you and your friends were okay, who stutters through every joke and also every inspirational speech, the boy who failed geometry because he kept ditching to go bird watch with stan or help mike with his chores on the farm. the boy who makes everybody he meets feel loved, feel important and feel needed. the boy who draws all of his friends with so much skill and passion. you can't help but bite your lip happily as you think about him.

of course you all held bill on a glimmering pedestal -  it was completely dignified. because bill is so incredible, so perfectly flawed and so real that it was almost impossible not to fall in love with him. 

everybody falls in love with bill denbrough.

"-that doesn't look like a sweatshirt." a voice comes from the doorway and you turn to look at richie, giving him a sheepish grin. your heart is still racing as you realize that you're in love with bill ... and that you have been for so long.

does he know?

"um, have you- er, have you ever seen this? he draws us." you say, gesturing to his notebook. richie nods his head, walking closer to the notebook casually. his eyes land on the open sketchbook and he smiles gently as he skims over the pages. there's eddie and richie on the left, laughing. it makes your heart swell. and on the right is the sketch of you, much more in detail.

"of course i have, y/n/n. he's been doing this for years, you know." he states simply, walking to the closet and pulling off a sweater, tossing it to you with a pointed look. 

you're still pretty dumbfounded as your eyes flit to the sketchbook. you smile, shaking your head as butterflies burst. "oh, well he never showed me. he's... he's done a lot of them." you say, flipping through the pages.

"um, yeah, duh. he has the hots for you, of course he draws you all the time." richie says casually, fingers skimming the light drawing of eddie's smiling face.

 your eyebrows furrow and you look up at him. some sort of heat pools in your stomach at his words, and you blink owlishly. you clear your throat and follow richie out of the room, face bright red as you walk down the stairs together.

"what took you two so long?" stan asks as you walk back in. you smile to your shoes as you pull on the sweater. richie flops onto the couch and mutters, "little miss snoop found big billy's sketchbook."

"y-you did?" bill asks, looking into your eyes. you can't help the blush that creeps onto your face as his eyes catch yours. he doesn't look phased that you saw his work except that his cheeks are dusted pink. 

"they're beautiful, bill." you say shyly. he shrugs. "it's e-easy when you have b-beautiful subjects." he mutters. 

it's so casual, the way he says it, and yet your whole body melts. you're so in love. everyone shares a look and you feel butterflies in the pit of your stomach. 

richie grins, "very smooth denbrough. we get it, you're in love." he says. at those words, it goes silent and everyone turns to stare at richie. 

your eyes widen and everyone else stares at him, mouths agape. 

he blinks, "oh, did- c'mon, don't act like we don't all know. right, guys?" he says in defense, gesturing to eddie and ben for help. they don't say anything, and bill chuckles awkwardly at the silence. 

it's quiet as bill mutters, "b-beep beep, trashmouth." he's shooting daggers at the boy. despite the tense situation, you smile to the ground - did bill really like you? him?

"lay off him, richie. i saw the way you were looking at that drawing of eddie." you say, lifting a brow. richie scowls, face turning red. eddie's face does the same, and bill shoots you a thankful glance. you smile back, heart beating quickly. you turn, muttering about going to get a drink.

you walk into the kitchen and you're not surprised when you hear that someone followed you. there's only one person who you really hope to talk to right now - and you're relieved as you turn around to find him watching you. 

you smile gently at him as he rubs his neck sheepishly, walking closer to you. "i h-hope the drawings didn't f-freak you out." he says with a small grin. you smile, shaking your head as you lean on the counter and look up at him.

"bill, c'mon. you're so talented. those were incredible...i'm flattered." you say, cheeks heating up. he smiles bashfully and shrugs.

"s-sorry about r-richie." he says after a moment. you laugh lightly, trying to calm your own heart from bursting from your chest. "he doesn't know what he's saying." you mutter shyly, shrugging. bill laughs lightly though, making you look at him curiously. 

he’s shaking his head, "no, h-he's p-pretty accurate." he says, a smile on his face. you watch him closely, "i... i'm in l-love with you." bill ads.

you gape at him, heart swelling but unable to move. he watches you, green eyes flickering between yours, trying desperately to read you. he's patient, though, and doesn't try to take it back. because it's bill. 

no matter what, he's said what he means and he wont take it back, even if you don't feel the same way. because he just wants you to know you're loved.

 holy shit, you're so in love with him.

"wh- are you really?" you ask dumbly. you can't feel your fingers or toes. he nods, a soft smile on his face as he chuckles, "y-yeah. really."

you nod, a smile of your own eclipsing your face. you feel like it might split your face in half. 

he shrugs at you with a smile. "i-i mean, i n-never came out and s-said it, so i guess that's m-my fault." he grins, "b-but its not l-like i had to. it's v-very obvious that i l-love you, y/n. you're j-just blind." he teases. you scrunch your nose at him although his words give you butterflies.

"oh shut up, bill." you say with a laugh, punching his shoulder. he laughs at your reaction, steadying himself by grabbing your waist lightly. he smiles down at you lovingly, sighing.

"bill..." you say softly, grinning at him. his cheeks are pink as he waits for you to say those words. 

you laugh a little, smiling so widely. "i love you too." you say.

"i kn-know. you're pretty o-obvious too, y/n." bill says with a smirk. you roll your eyes as you place a hand on his shoulder, the two of you leaning on the counter. you pinch him, "then why didn't you say anything!?" you hiss, heart swelling.

"i j-just didn't know h-how!" he defends. you shake your head, scoffing. "whatever, denbrough. i can't believe you." you mutter. his fingers gently reach to clutch your chin, tilting it up to him.

he looks into your eyes and your heart melts, eyes flickering to his pink ones. he's smirking gently. "in m-my defense, you didn't say a-anything, either."

he leans closer and your breath hitches while you wait for him to move. 

and then, you smile impatiently as you close the gap. his lips press against yours and your heart feels full as his body forms against you. he's soft, gentle, and passionate as he pulls you closer, tongue lightly grazing your bottom lip. it's quiet as the two of you kiss, the only sounds being your soft breathing and the sound of your lips moving together.

you pull away though as you realize... it's too quiet. 

he looks at you in question and you peek over his shoulder, groaning lightly as you meet six pairs of eyes in the doorway. "guys!" you hiss in embarrassment. bill turns to look at the others, a confident grin on his face. they all start squealing and yelling in excitement. 

"sh-she's in love with me, g-guys!" bill calls, pointing to you in his arms. you shove him with a laugh as the others cheer. he laughs and shrugs at you.

"you're unbelievable, you know." you mumble, nudging his arm. he chuckles lightly, wrapping his arms around you and placing his chin on the crown of your head. you sigh as you inhale his scent, smiling into the fabric of his sweatshirt.

[bitchin-beskar]

The Internet is Forever Part 1

Fandom: The Old Guard

Rating: T (vague mentions of sex, but nothing explicitly described)

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: Once more, y’all have The Gay Guard gc to thank for this lovely crack. It’ll be in three parts, with this one focusing on Joe and Nicky, Part 2 will focus on Andy and Quynh, and Part 3 will focus on Booker and Nile. I’ve never actually streamed or posted videos on YouTube, so I apologize for any inaccuracies, but... this is crack, so... you should kind of be expecting that at this point.

Tags: @the-chaotic-virgo, @hi-short-for-hello, @immortalwarriors, @the-killer-queenie, @roses-are-red713, @acolorandafeeling, @bookersebastien, @fetchmeabook, @ikilledtheducks, and @goalkeepernerd I blame every single one of you for this cursed fic. They all contributed to this AU so they ALL get credit for encouraging me to write this. 

Also @perropascal!!!

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any of my works!

Please consider liking and reblogging! I love the feedback!

You know the saying, “The internet is forever?” It’s true. It’s incredibly difficult to remove anything once it’s posted on the internet. That’s why Copley had been able to find all the evidence of Andy, Joe, Nicky, Booker, and Quynh from over the years. No matter how hard they’d tried to scrub their backgrounds, a few things always fell through the cracks. And now, in the twenty-first century, with technology growing at an unprecedented rate, it was harder than ever to stay off the internet. When the team had hired Copley to cover their tracks and find them jobs, he’d known he was going to have his work cut out for him. Unfortunately, he’d never expected… this. 

***

“Nile, can you come here for a moment, please?”

Nicky’s voice called out from the kitchen, and Nile got up from where she was perched on the couch, shutting her copy of Les Misérables–in the original French, mind you, Booker was trying to help her learn another language–and tucking it under her arm, walking down the hall and into the kitchen. She stopped, frowning in confusion as she took in the scene before her. 

Nicky was standing at the kitchen counter, a plate of baklava on the countertop in front of him. The rest of the kitchen was a mess, dirty bowls and measuring cups filled the sink, and ingredients covered the counter. He had a webcam set up in front of him, along with a laptop, and Nile could see that he was streaming. 

He looked up as she entered, smiling brightly. “Nile! Come, you must try this baklava!” He holds the plate out eagerly, and Nile steps forward cautiously, carefully taking one of the little squares. 

“Why? What are you doing?” Nile asks, suspicious, as she inspects the piece of baklava, not convinced that Nicky hasn’t done something to it.

Nicky looks at her, hurt. “I just want you to try my baklava. I’m teaching the internet the proper way to make it, and I want you to tell them how it tastes!” He gestures to the live webcam. “I need you to be honest, tell me how it tastes, even if it’s bad.”

She gives him the look. She’s never once eaten something made by Nicky that didn’t taste absolutely amazing. As long as this isn’t a prank, she’s not sure there’s any way his baklava won’t taste divine. She takes a bite, and nearly moans at the taste. The buttery texture of the dough is perfectly complemented by the taste of walnuts, hazelnuts, and pistachios, and there’s a hint of orange citrus that just brings everything together. 

“Well?”

Nicky’s looking at her, his eyes wide and expectant, waiting for her to give a review. “It’s amazing Nicky, seriously,” she says, grinning as Nicky beams at her. “It’s the best baklava I’ve ever had. Try some!” Nicky picks up his own piece, taking a big bite, but before he can say anything, a voice floats over from the doorway. 

“Yeah, but how much baklava have you had, really?”

Both Nicky and Nile turn to see Joe standing in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, a playful smirk on his face. “I mean, if you’ve only ever tasted his cooking, you don’t really have anything to compare it to, do you?”

Nicky growled–seriously, growled–under his breath, and Nile looked between the two, confused. She was so used to seeing them acting like they were still in their honeymoon phase that seeing this other side of both of them threw her for a loop. She backed away from the couple, glancing at Nicky’s laptop, seeing that he was streaming to YouTube. She snorted when she read his channel name: BetterThanOliveGarden. She glanced at the live stream of comments and had to do a double-take. Based on what people were saying, apparently, Joe and Nicky had this online rivalry, and people kept debating their relationship, whether they were roommates, dating, or something else.

She watched as Nicky shoved the plate towards Joe. “How about you try my food before you critique it, Joe?” A sly smirk spread across Joe’s lips, and he took the plate, setting it down without taking any food off it. Instead, he strides forward, cupping Nicky’s face in his hands and kissing him deeply. Nile looks away awkwardly when Nicky moans, and she glances at the comments and sees that they’re going nuts.

People are screaming, keyboard mashing, and comments like: OHMYGOD WHAT, are popping up constantly. Nile grimaces at the webcam. She whispers to the camera, “You guys do know they’re married, right? They do this all. the. time.” She throws a thumb over her shoulder at the two men, still locked in an embrace. Joe has one hand clutching at Nicky’s hair and the other in the back pocket of his jeans, and Nicky’s got his arms thrown around Joe’s neck, both of them completely lost to the world. 

The comments are still blowing up, and Nile isn’t sure if she should actually end the video or not. She shrugs, deciding to leave it going. What’s the worst that could happen?

***

Well, apparently, Nicky and Joe forgot about the live stream. Nile only found out when she went to go and find the video, only to see that it had been taken down due to “violating YouTube content policies.” She asked Joe about it.

“Well, you see, apparently it’s frowned upon when two people decide to show their love for one another–” 

“You two started taking off each other’s clothes, didn’t you.”

“Yes. Yes, we did.”

“Please tell me the two of you left the kitchen before the pants came off?”

“Of course we did, we have enough self-control–” 

“Andy came in and yelled at the two of you that you were about to do it in front of a live audience, didn’t she.”

“Um, well… yes.”

***

Nicky’s retaliation happened later that week. Joe apparently ran an art tutorial channel, where he did sketches, showing people how to draw anything from animals, to the human body, to landscape, to architecture. His channel was called ScrewMichelangelo, which had confused Nile until Joe had explained the man refused to stop flirting with Nicky, so Joe hated him. Nile was skeptical, until Joe pulled up an image of the statue David, pointing out all the similarities between the marble statue and Nicky. 

Nile was shocked. She could see the resemblance and turned to Joe in shock. “Wait, Nicky posed for Michelangelo?” 

Joe grumbled, frowning deeply. “No. I accidentally left my sketchbook in his workshop one day, and there were some sketches of Nicky inside. He used those for his inspiration. When I found out I…” Joe looked sheepish. “I was very upset. Nicky keeping me calm was the only reason Michelangelo survived my wrath.”

Nile grimaced. “Yeah, I can see why you’d be pissed.” Joe nodded, and he began to set up the webcam. 

Joe had asked her to help him out, so Nile was once again in the video, this time posing for Joe so he could show people how to draw braids. She was still trying to get through Les Misérables–seriously, she hated french–and she’d lost track of time when she was startled by the door banging open. She looked up from her book, watching as Nicky strode determinedly into the room. 

“This,” he said, coming up behind Joe and laying his hands against the sides of Joe’s neck. “Is for ruining my baklava video.”

He tipped Joe’s head back, pressing his lips against Joe’s harshly. Nile had learned from the last time. She got up, shut off the webcam, and left the room, shaking her head when the men didn’t even react when she shut the door loudly.

“Stupid horny immortal husbands.”

***

It had been a quiet week, and Nile was suspicious. Nicky and Joe had each ruined multiple of the other’s videos with intense make-out sessions, and Nile was surprised that they both hadn’t had their accounts banned from YouTube. Neither of them had done anything this week though, so Nile was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

When she woke up one morning to a YouTube notification from Joe’s account, she actually groaned. She wasn’t sure she wanted to watch what they’d gotten up to, but she figured she should probably check. 

Clicking on the video, she was surprised to see that she couldn’t actually see anything, because the video was pitch black. Suddenly, a soft light appeared, showing a shirtless Joe. He held a finger to his lips, giggling, before shining the light onto a sleeping Nicky next to him. 

“Nicolo, destati.” 

Nicky grumbled, trying to swat Joe’s camera away, but he missed. “Nicolo, habibi, destati.” Nicky groaned, rolling over and blinking up at Joe. 

“Yusuf, what time is it?”

“Three am, habibi.”

“Why Yusuf?”

Nile can hear Joe giggling. “I wanted to show everyone what I get to see every night for the rest of our lives.”

Nicky’s face softened, and he reached a hand up, pulling Joe’s face down and into the frame, and into a kiss. Joe managed to hold the camera steady, somehow. When he finally pulled away, Nicky grabbed one of Joe’s hands, tugging him down so that Joe is spooning him and his arm is wrapped tightly around Nicky.

“You’ve got your video, amore, now let’s sleep, please.”

Joe says something, but it’s muffled as he sets the camera down. The light turns off, and Nile thinks the video must be over, but when she checks, she realizes there are still hours of footage left. She fast forwards, and once the room starts to brighten, Nile realizes it must be morning. She sees as Nicky and Joe come into view, still spooning on the bed. She watches as Nicky wakes, and sees the camera still running before he reaches out to shut it off.

She shakes her head, shutting the phone off. Maybe now they’d stop ruining each other’s videos and she wouldn’t have to listen to their complaints anymore.

***

Well, Joe and Nicky had stopped bothering her. But Andy and Quynh were a whole other story.

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

Royal Growing Pains - Chapter Twenty Six

Warnings: Homophobia, transphobia, misgendering, sympathetic Deceit

Royal Growing Pains Tag

They sat in companionable silence for a while on the bottom step, Roman resting his head on Damien’s shoulder. “I’m glad we both like each other,” Roman said idly. “I know we completely skipped over boyfriends straight into fiancés, but regardless, liking each other is...good. Nice.”

Damien laughed and said, “Are you always this flustered around guys you like?” and Roman groaned.

“Look, not having the words to describe how I feel about love is not an uncommon thing,” Roman protested. “You’re the one who thought my smile was pretty enough to fall down the stairs for.”

Damien huffed in annoyance and Roman smirked. “You know it’s true,” Roman gloated.

“Are you going to bring that up whenever we have a debate?” Damien asked.

“It’s entirely possible, at least until you do something stupider,” Roman said.

Damien sighed. “Well, you’re honest about it at least.”

Roman grinned before looking up at the stairs behind them. “I hate that sooner or later we’re going to have to leave,” he sighed.

“Tell me about it,” Damien sighed. “I just hope we aren’t punished by being separated again.”

“I will fight tooth and nail against that, for what it’s worth,” Roman said. “I would argue I hated that more than you did. I had to be with my mother, after all.”

“That’s true,” Damien mused. “Maybe if they force that, I only do it under the negotiation that I stay with your mother so you can’t be in the same room as her?”

Roman snorted. “I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy, let alone you,” he said.

“And yet you do it to yourself?” Damien asked.

Roman went quiet. “Someone has to, at the end of the day.”

“That someone doesn’t have to be you,” Damien said.

“Well, I’m not going to wish it on anyone else in this castle, so I’m the only one left,” Roman said with a shrug. “This afternoon, and then tomorrow. The day after that is the rehearsal for the wedding, and before you know it, this will all be over.”

“I don’t want you being punished for the next three days, my dear,” Damien said.

Roman shrugged. “Punished for the next three days is better than punished for the rest of my life.”

“That’s what this was intended to be, my dear,” Damien said. “And that’s not fair to you. I want to lessen the suffering and punishment as much as possible.”

“I would argue you already have,” Roman said, stroking Damien’s cheek.

Damien turned pink and Roman bit his lip, wondering if it was too soon to try for a kiss. Roman leaned forward but Damien pulled back, and Roman stopped. Too soon, then.

“We should probably move away from the steps,” Damien said, standing up. “If we leave through the door behind us we’ll almost certainly be caught in an instant, but I know some ways to sneak around this castle and not get lectured quite yet.”

“Could we retreat to my room?” Roman asked. “Spend some time away from everyone before the inevitable lecture?”

“Of course, my love,” Damien said, holding out his hand, and Roman took it.

Damien helped Roman to his feet and they walked further into the basement. It wasn’t the most well-lit, but it wasn’t completely dark and dreary. “Is this storage space?” Roman asked.

“Mostly,” Damien agreed. “But the perk of that is that there are multiple ways to get to the storage from around the castle, depending on what you need.”

Roman nodded.

Damien led him up a flight of stairs to a nondescript door and held a finger to his lips. He pressed his ear to the wood, and, apparently satisfied with what he heard, opened the door and ushered Roman up and out of the basement. Roman recognized the mudroom he had ran through his first day here right down the hall, and Damien led him up the back stairs and both of them rushed to Roman’s room, Roman closing the door with a click and sighing. “My mother is going to be furious,” he lamented.

“You retreated to your room to regroup and think things over,” Damien said. “No one would blame you for that.”

“You are far too good at coming up with excuses,” Roman laughed, walking over to his bed. Damien sat down next to him and Roman sighed. “I admittedly don’t know how we’re going to pass the time without causing a ruckus and being found out.”

Damien glanced around. “I mean, you packed art supplies...and...at least one book,” he said, pointing to the nightstand. “I could read and you could draw, if all else fails.”

“True,” Roman sighed. He looked at the flower crown Damien was still wearing, and smiled. “I’m glad you like my little gift to you.”

“Of course,” Damien said, sounding almost offended. “It was a gift from you. Why wouldn’t I like it?”

Roman squeaked and turned cherry red. “Rude!” he sputtered.

Damien chuckled, arching an eyebrow. “I fail to see how that’s rude, but if I must repay you for that somehow, I suppose I will.”

Roman was struck with an idea and he grabbed his sketchbook and pencils. “Sit still, then, I want to draw you with your flower crown,” he said, flipping to a blank page in his sketchbook and beginning to get the basic shapes on paper.

Damien laughed, putting the back of his hand to his forehead. “Oh, woe is me! I have to sit still for five minutes while you sketch, I never should have agreed to this!”

Roman snickered and shook his head. “Well, that’s what you get for being rude!” he shot back.

“That wasn’t rude!” Damien laughed. “Rude would be doing a dramatic rendition of ‘Say Something’ using your hairbrush as the microphone just after you’ve gotten out of the shower.”

Roman laughed harder. “You’re so weird!” Roman declared, pointing his pencil at Damien. “That’s such an oddly specific example. Who did you do that to?”

Damien turned light pink and looked away. “No one in particular,” he said.

Roman squinted at Damien. He would have just admitted if it had been a boyfriend, and he had thick hair, but his father always kept his hair neat and it wasn’t nearly as curly as Damien’s, so he doubted it was his father. Roman’s eyes lit up and he giggled. “You did that to your mom, didn’t you?!”

“Shut up!” Damien hissed. “How was I to know she was in the shower in the hotel?”

“Uh, if you were sharing a hotel room, you definitely should have heard the water running,” Roman laughed. “And ‘Say Something’? Really? You would sing ‘Say Something’? That’s such a specific song!”

Damien huffed. “I was in my angst phase, all right?!” he defended. “And my mother ripped her hairbrush out of my hands, so her hair didn’t dry tangled!”

“That doesn’t make it better!” Roman crowed. “Oh, if you do that on our honeymoon, I will personally kill you. My hair is a mess enough without it getting all tangled after a shower.”

“Speaking of honeymoons...anywhere you want to go?” Damien asked. “I’m personally fond of the Meditteranian.”

“I kind of want to see Rome, and Italy in general for that matter,” Roman said with a shrug. “But the Carribean would also be nice. White beaches, blue skies, nothing but the open ocean for miles on a rental boat?”

“Hm, true,” Damien said. “The Carribean is lovely. How about this: we honeymoon in Italy, and for Valentine’s, I take you to the Carribean? Get away from the freezing winter.”

“You would do that?” Roman asked, eyes lighting up. “You’d take a vacation for a couple days just to go to the beach with me?”

“I’d make it two weeks if at all possible,” Damien said. “Just enough time for sun, sand, water, and maybe some fun inside, too, if you catch my drift.”

Roman gripped his pencil so hard he was surprised it didn’t snap in two. “Damien!” he exclaimed indignantly as Damien started snickering. “That is impossibly rude! Don’t get me thinking about those sorts of things when I’m trying to draw! It never ends well!”

“How does it end?” Damien asked.

“Usually with certain images drawn that should never see the light of day,” Roman said seriously, focusing on Damien’s nose in the drawing rather than looking up at Damien himself.

“I’d love to see those,” Damien said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Maybe once we’re married,” Roman muttered. “But not before.”

“Oh, you wound me!” Damien exclaimed.

“The marriage is in three days, you doofus, you’ll live,” Roman said definitively.

Damien sighed. “...You know your mother is probably going to kill us both when she finds us.”

“Yep, trying not to think about that, thanks,” Roman said, continuing to draw.

“Do you have any plans for trying to get out of it?” Damien asked.

“Nope. I just figure she’ll yell at me for a while and then be done with it. She can’t call off the wedding at this point.”

“Why not?” Damien asked. “You said yourself that she arranged it, and you said it in front of half a dozen dignitaries. The secret’s out, my dear. They know it’s not a marriage of love, but of convenience.”

Roman sighed. “I choose to believe that she wouldn’t stoop so low as to cancel the marriage. She’s too desperate to have her perfect daughter.”

Damien frowned. “You know, I think it’s rather sad,” he mused. “She’s so desperate to cling to someone you never were that she’ll shove who you really are away. I know parents dream of their perfect children, who could never do a thing wrong in their life, and who are everything they want those kids to be and more, but...in the process of trying to preserve her daughter, she’s chasing away her son. I know that what she’s doing is inexcusable, and I know it hurts you, and of course, I’m not trying to defend her, but...that desperation...that sheer fear of the unknown that turns into bigotry and ignorance...it’s saddening to see.”

“Because she could be good, if only she opened her eyes and saw the error of her ways,” Roman agreed softly. “If she didn’t try to micromanage myself and Remus, and let us do what we wanted, be ourselves, explore who that really is without fear of judgement, she probably could have loved who we really are. Everyone who I talk to when I’m myself...when I’m not pretending to be Veronica? They say that I’m the happiest man they’ve ever seen. They say I’m full of life, that I’m energetic, that I light up a room when I enter it.

“That’s how I was when I was a kid, too. That’s what my mother is trying to cling to. But what she doesn’t realize is that when she saw a little girl, the reality was that I was being a little boy. I was being myself. And yeah, some more ‘feminine’ interests like art have stayed through the years, but...at the end of the day...I’m a man. I was being a little boy, getting dirty and scuffing my shoes and wearing my hair short and insisting on wearing pants and suits like Remus did. That wasn’t a little girl going through a rebellious phase, that was a little boy trying to get the world to agree that’s who he was.”

Damien nodded solemnly. “I don’t suppose explaining that to her would go over well?”

“I’ve tried. More than once. She never wants to hear it. She’s too wrapped up in her ideal little world to accept that life doesn’t always turn out the way she wants it to,” Roman said. “It’s beyond infuriating, but right now, I’m resigned to my fate. Three more days of pretending. And then hormones, surgery, therapy, the works.”

Damien’s lips twitched up. “If you keep focusing on the light at the end of the tunnel, you’ll be there before you know it.”

“I hope so,” Roman sighed.

“I know so,” Damien assured him. “Pretty soon no one in the world will be able to deny that you are a man. Not even your parents.”

“They’ll argue it anyway, because of what’s in my pants,” Roman sighed, making marks on the shading of his drawing.

“If we keep you hidden away for a couple months until the HRT kicks in, they won’t recognize you at first,” Damien suggested.

“As soon as we say my name they will,” Roman said, rolling his eyes.

“My love, by that point I will most likely have swords at your parents’ throats and if they misgender you they will lose their heads. Literally. I will not hesitate,” Damien said determinedly. “No one will be allowed to misgender you again.”

Roman felt his cheeks heat up and he couldn’t help but look away, finding Damien’s gaze to be far too intense. “I appreciate it,” Roman said. “Truly. I just wish that it weren’t a problem in the first place.”

“I know,” Damien tutted. His eyes drifted away from Roman and to the page Roman was signing. “Oh, wow,” he breathed. “My love, that is beautiful.”

Roman giggled a little. “It’s not my best work,” he admitted with some reluctance. “I am proud of it for the time I took, but it’s not the best. I will admit the flowers came out better than expected.”

“I can’t wait to see you draw more, so I can see the work you’re actually proud of,” Damien said. “Because this is incredible. The pieces you put time into must be heart-stopping.”

“Stop!” Roman whined. “Oh my god, you’re going to kill me at this rate! Don’t!”

Damien gently closed the sketchbook and put it on the nightstand, and removed Roman’s hands from his face so he couldn’t hide behind them. “My love, you can create the second most beautiful masterpieces in the world.”

“What’s the first?” Roman asked.

Damien smirked. “I think you know.”

“If you say me, I will kick you, and it will hurt,” Roman warned.

“If I said anything else I would be—oof!” Damien was cut off by Roman roughly kicking Damien in the jewels. “...Lying...ow...”

“Serves you right,” Roman huffed. “You’ve been nothing but rude to me all day with your compliments.”

Damien winced and tried to uncurl from his fetal position. “I had been informed that most boys generally liked being flirted with...”

“I’m not most boys,” Roman said simply.

“...You’re right. I should have taken that into account.” Damien took a deep breath through his nose and let out a sigh. “Okay. I’m not going to puke from that one kick, that’s progress.”

Roman offered Damien a smirk. “You’ve puked from that type of thing before?”

“Yes, although I was fairly young,” Damien admitted. “I told a girl I liked her brother and she screamed and kicked me, essentially gave me the shovel talk, and stormed off. Apparently Nate already liked a girl. And my giving him my bubblegum lollipop meant nothing.”

Roman laughed. “Oh, that’s priceless!”

Damien pouted. “Come on, giving up my bubblegum lollipop was a big deal! And he just took it and didn’t even say thank you!”

“Still hilarious,” Roman said, grinning.

Damien huffed. “I see how it is,” he grumbled.

“No, baby, come on, I love you,” Roman said, hugging him. “I just also love laughing at you.”

Damien continued to pout and grumble for a couple minutes, but Roman hugging him meant that the mood in the room wasn’t too dark.

Damien grimaced as his stomach growled. “It’s about lunch time,” he said. “But I anticipate we wouldn’t be allowed to sneak into the kitchen to avoid the dignitaries.”

Roman took off his and Damien’s flower crowns and placed them gently on the nightstand. “I’m willing to wait for an hour or so to try and sneak down.”

“That’s probably our best bet,” Damien agreed. “Until then...” he grabbed Roman’s hairbrush and said, “Care to duet?”

Roman laughed. “Sure, what song?”

“‘Say Something’?” Damien offered with a grin.

“Uh, maybe not,” Roman laughed. “What about ‘all the good girls go to hell’?”

Damien’s eyes lit up, “I love that song!” he declared, pulling out his phone and typing furiously. After a second, the song started to play, and Damien started singing into Roman’s hairbrush. “‘My Lucifer is lonely...’”

Roman belted out the lyrics along with Damien, and at some point during the song they wound up standing on the bed, dramatically posing to each line. By the end of the song, they were breathless and laughing, and Roman was beaming as Damien bit back a grin. “That was fun!” Roman exclaimed. “Another song?”

“Sure,” Damien agreed.

Roman scrolled through his phone, looking at what he had recently played, and he laughed. “Hey, want something ironic?” he asked.

“Always,” Damien said.

Roman played Lorde’s “Royals” and Damien burst out laughing as the beat started. They sang just as dramatically as before, Roman bouncing on his toes on the bed while Damien struggled to simply remain standing. Roman giggled as the song came to a close. “That was fun,” he said.

A knock sounded on the door and both his and Damien’s heads snapped to it as it swung open. Virgil walked in, looking furious. “There you are! Your Highnesses, the whole castle has been looking for you for two hours!”

Damien shrugged. “Roman was upset after confronting his mother. We came back here to talk and after a time we decided to have some fun just singing. Did you not think to look here until now?”

Virgil seethed. “I knew you two were still on the grounds, but that didn’t mean you two weren’t out of danger! Do you have any idea how much of a state your parents are in, Damien?!”

Damien slumped and shrugged. “Honestly, they should know that I do this sometimes, they should expect it, really.”

“Well, whether they did or didn’t this is the longest we’ve gone without finding you, and the two of you have to answer to them,” Virgil said sternly. “Out. Now.”

Tag List: @lunareclipse-13@sanders-sides-crofters@blushy-gigglee-mess@wannacrymetoo@kaytikitty@magicalspacepanunicorn@bootsinthesun@pricklyfish777@flowersanddinosaurs@leiasolo77@birdybabybird@enby-phoenix@luna--28@justagaygoose@the-prince-and-the-emo@fandomsandanythingelse@randommuffinyt@snekky-boi@thesoftestlittlepuffballwegot@twilight-trix@abby5577@escalatingtoofast@friendlyfacestabbing@remus-is-stinky@foggybanditdreampeanut@ghostskull300@sprinklestheditty@canvas-the-florist@askthesnake@samuel-the-gay@determination-saved@juicy-cashew@demidork84@why-should-i-tell-youu2@nerd-in-space@aphriteblack@cktkat@im-actually-ok​@loganpatton@lilbeanblr@kittyboof8@irish-newzealand-idian-dutch@sanders-trash-4ever@hamilspntrash@swords-and-kittens@phantomfander@narniasfinestavengingsociopath@rjmeta@ambersky0319@anni-cat-flower@idosanderssidespromptssometimes@nafsbluebery@redisawerewolf23@voidvirgil@msu82@angstyfanfiction

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Stark Spangled Banner OneShot Phobias

So this is a little drabble that came to me when my husband rescued me from certain death at the hands of a spider in the bathroom!

Takes place round about September 2013- 4 months after Katie and Steve started dating. You don’t need to have read the rest of Stark Spangled Banner to enjoy this, but feel free to do so if you see this and it grabs your attention.

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist

Warnings: “Language!”

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

 "STEEEEEEEEEVVVEEEEE!" The scream made the glass of water in his hand slip to the point he almost dropped it. Placing it down with a slam on the coffee table he stood up and bolted down the hall towards his bathroom only to be met by Katie, who was in her bra and denim shorts hurtling towards him. "What is it?" He frowned, instantly placing himself between her and the bathroom, looking at the door. "In there..." she muttered, and as her hands gripped at his hips he could feel her shaking behind him. "Someone’s in there?" he looked over his shoulder and down at her. She shook her head "I... just... I can’t..." He was really puzzled now. Not a lot phased Katie Stark. She had fought alongside him in the battle of New York, facing off against God Knows how many Aliens. The year before she had tackled the Mandarin with her brother, then there was Loki in the Desert, countless missions with SHIELD... so what on Earth had got her so petrified, in his bathroom no less,  that she was trembling behind him?

"Stay here..." he said, gently before he crept forward and stepped to the bathroom. The door was wide open and he could see or hear nothing. Frowning he looked behind the door, in the tall cupboard that housed his toiletries, towels, bedsheets etc... all clear. He was just about to ask her what the fuck was going on when a movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He glanced into the shower cubicle and there was the culprit.

"Jesus Christ sweetheart." He said, with a somewhat exasperated sight as he looked at the spider "You nearly gave me a heart attack. I thought someone had broken in and was about to kill you...:

"Something did break in!" She squeaked back, still from her spot in the hall "It’s gonna eat me!" Steve rolled his eyes to himself. It was nothing more than a house spider. A fairly big one, he had to admit, but utterly harmless. Nevertheless, he knew Katie was petrified of the damned things. She had admitted to him post an incident with one on a Quinjet that she had woken up when she was 3 with one on her face and had been scared witless of them ever since.

“Katie, it’s utterly harmless.” he reasoned. “I don’t care!” her voice was high pitched “Incy Wincy fucking Gorilla needs to leave” That did make him laugh.

“Ok, Ok” he said when his chuckles died down “I’ll sort it. Don’t panic…”

Luckily for her, spiders fascinated Steve. He had always found their webs a thing of beauty, and in the army had often wandered the woods early in the morning to see them speckled with dew in the growing light of the sunrise or frost in the winter, sketching the particularly intricate ones he found. He bent down, scooped the arachnid in to his hands careful to keep it enclosed and headed back into the hall. "Where is..is it IN YOUR HANDS?" she shrieked, eyes wide as she backed away from him. “Why didn’t you kill it?” “I’m not gonna kill it!” he said, shaking his head “It isn’t his fault you’re scared of him.” “But…”

“Honey, it’s fine, I’m gonna let it go outside!” He said, trying hard not to laugh at the sheer look of disgust and horror on her face. “Just open the door for me ok?”

“Outside outside or like the hall way outside?” She said, looking at him. He paused for a moment, he had been thinking just the hall- it was a house spider after all. But he could hear her reaction already- I’ll just come back under the door…

“Outside outside.” he confirmed, and her shoulders visibly sagged as she exhaled and headed to the doorway. She opened it, then backed away from him to let him out. Giving her a smile he headed outside, spider safely contained in his cupped hands as he headed down the stairs to the main door of his apartment block. Using his foot to keep the door jarred open, he stooped down and gently let the spider go. It scurried off and he wiped his hands on his jeans before he took the 3 flights back up to his floor two steps at a time.

Katie was in the kitchen, still in her bra and shorts, a glass of water in her hand. He leaned in the doorway looking at her for a moment, smile playing on his lips. Even when she was being absurd he loved her.

“You can stop looking at me like that.” she said to him.

 “Like what?”

“Like you think I'm utterly ridiculous.”

Steve cut her off with a chuckle “You are utterly ridiculous.” he said, striding towards her to give her a hug. She let out a noise that was half chuckle, half groan as she pressed her face into his t-shirt. “But I love you, arachnophobia induced drama included.”

She stayed still, her cheek pressed into his chest as his hands gently held her close, palms warm on her bare back.

“Gonna go for my shower now.” she mumbled.

“Ok” he pressed a kiss to her head “You coming back out or going straight to bed?”

“Bed.”

 “Alright, I won’t be far behind you.”

She smiled up at him, before she headed out of the room and he watched her go, her hips swaying gently as she walked.

The water was hot as Katie stepped underneath it. She hated being that petrified of something as stupid as a spider, she really did. Logically she knew it was daft, they were so small in comparison to her. Tony had constantly told her whenever he had to rescue her from the eight-legged-freaks, ‘they’re more scared of you than you are of them’, but that was utter bollocks. Frankly, she’d take fighting off 10 men single handedly against dealing with one of them. With a sigh she washed her hair, turned the water off and then set about cleaning her teeth before she headed out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. Steve was already in there and as she walked into the room he gently tossed a clean t-shirt onto the bed for her and she grinned. She loved sleeping in his shirts, for no reason other than they were his. And he loved the fact she loved to sleep in them for the same reason. He dropped a kiss to her cheek and told her he was going for a shower himself before he headed into the bathroom himself.  She dried off, braided her hair before shrugging the T-shirt and settling down between the sheets of his bed. Steve returned a little under 10 minutes later, chest speckled with drops of water he hadn’t dried off completely.

“Honey do you want a drink or anything?”

“No I’m good” she mumbled, eyes closed as she snuggled further into the bed. He dressed in a pair of sweats, leaving his chest bare- another thing he’d started doing since they’d been sharing a bed as Katie much preferred snuggling into him like that- and he began the usual routine of checking the doors and windows before he returned and slipped under the covers next to her.

She let out a sigh and moved so that her head was lay on his chest, her hand gently tangling into the smattering of dark blonde hair that was there. He could tell she was wide awake, pondering something.

 “What’s the matter?” he asked gently.

“Do you think I’m a dumbass?” “No?” he snorted “why would I think that?” “Because of the whole…spider thing.” Steve took a deep breath and moved so that he was led on his side, facing her. She pouted at being jostled off his chest and he smiled at the look of indignation on her face as he tucked a stray hand of hair behind her ear.

“Clowns.” he said gently.

“What? What has that got-“ “I hate them.” he said gently “They freak me out. Big time. Can’t stand to look at them, be in the same room as them…” “So that’s why you don’t wanna watch IT.” she said, smiling softly “You’re scared of Clowns?” He nodded “Once when we were kids, there was a Carnival down at Coney. Bucky and I went in this like maze thing. Contained a load of mirrors and stuff…but the last room you went in was basically nothing but clowns, and you had no idea which one was the mirror and which one was the real thing.” He gave a shudder at the memory and he felt his girl’s hands warm on his chest “Well when the damned thing moved I had a complete melt down, asthma attack, you name it…”

“Why have you never told me this before?”

“Doesn’t do my Captain Badass image any good, does it?”

“And my spider phobia doesn’t do mine any good.” she said, with a chuckle “especially seeing as one of my best friend’s goes by the code name Black Widow.” He gave a little chuckle and wrapped his arms around her, as she turned over to get comfortable. He pulled her to him, her back pressing to his chest, and closed his eyes as he wrapped himself around her. She sighed, happy to bask in his warmth.

“Thank you for rescuing me” she mumbled and he gave a laugh that vibrated through his chest into her.

“Isn’t that what a man is supposed to do? Be his Dame’s Knight in shining armour?”

 “Yeah but most Knights slay fire breathing dragons...” she said, before pausing slightly “Oh God can u imagine? A fire breathing spider?”  she shivered.

 “Ok. Honey, now you’re being ridiculous again.” he said, eyes still closed.

 “Hey, for all we know it could exist, like in the deepest, depths of Peru somewhere, just hasn’t been discovered…”

“Well, lucky for us we aint in Peru.” he said with a sigh, as he dropped a soft kiss to the back of her neck. “Now go to sleep.”

Tags

@the-omni-princess  @momobaby227  @geekofmanythings16  @angelofhell-666 @thewackywriter @marvelfansworld  @cobalt-gear  @asgardlover75 @jennmurawski13  @jtargaryen18 @saiyanprincessswanie  @navispalace @patzammit​  @joannaliceevans-fanficblog​  @icanfeelastormbrewing​    @djeniiscorner​ @ayamenimthiriel​ @coldmuffinbanditshoe​ @disneylovingal​@madzmilllz​

[pocket-luv101]

Summary: Kuro and Licht starts a band called Checkmate with Mahiru as their songwriter. (KuroMahi/LawLicht, Band AU)

(Part 1-KuroMahi) // Part 2-LawLicht

“Thanks for giving me this backstage pass, Nii-san. It would’ve been better if you’d let me do an article about your idol group forming but this is still good.” Hyde lightly probed his brother but Kuro grunted in answer. The rejection was clear though. “Checkmate has never sat down for an interview before. If I can write an article with quotes from your band, it will help my career! A few pictures would be great too.”

“You’re my brother and I want to help you but Checkmate is more than just me. That delusional angel I sing with hates interviews and reporters. Mahiru will be mad at me if I accepted an interview without talking to him and Licht first.” Kuro had explained why he couldn’t have an interview with him several times already.

He still wanted to help his brother so he gave him the backstage pass to the charity event they were holding with a few other bands. “There will be other idol groups playing so you can corner one of them for an interview.”

“None of them will be as good though.” Hyde muttered and crossed his arms. A year ago, his brother started an idol group and they called themselves Checkmate. Their family was surprised when he told them about his decision. Kuro had never showed any interest in music or fame before. Even after Checkmate gained popularity, he rarely interacted with fans or the press. Hyde spoke his thoughts out loud. “Why did you decide to become a singer?”

His answer came running down the hall and calling his name.

“Kuro!” Mahiru stopped in front of them. He was out of breath and Kuro wondered how long he had been searching for him. He gripped his arm and started to drag him down the hall. “There was a mix up with your costume and we have to do some adjustments. Licht is waiting in the dressing room already and—Oh, hello, Hyde. Are you here to watch your brother perform?”

“I’m looking forward to hearing him sing but I’m here for work.” He told him and held up his reporter’s badge. “Reporting on these events seem to be the only time I get to talk with my brother. I’m happy that he has gotten famous but he has been busy since you three created Checkmate.”

“Kuro has been working hard for the band but his family is still very important to him.” Mahiru was quick to defend Kuro and reassure Hyde. In the corner of his eyes, Kuro noticed the sly grin his brother had. They were childhood friends with Mahiru so they both knew how compassionate he was. Kuro realized that his brother intended to trick Mahiru into letting him interview the idols group.

“Hyde.” He said as a warning. Kuro didn’t want his brother to take advantage of Mahiru’s kindness.

“I have an idea. Would you like to come with us? You can talk with Kuro while I sew a few things onto his costume. I’m sure Licht won’t mind if you come into the dressing room with us.” Mahiru suggested. “The band was invited to a dinner with the manager of the event but I can find a way for you to skip. That will give you two free time to hang out.”

“Didn’t we hire Kranz to be our manager so you would have less work, Mahiru? Have him talk to the event organizers and come to dinner with us.” Kuro admired Mahiru’s work ethic but he didn’t want him to overwork himself. He worked as their assistant but he was truly the writer of Checkmate’s songs. Mahiru preferred to be anonymous and keep his life simple.

“It would be nice to eat and catch up. Hopefully, we can find a place where no one will recognize Kuro and mob him.” Mahiru joked as they walked into the dressing room. He glanced around the room and frowned slightly. “Where did Licht go? His costume is finished but I told him to wait here so we can go through the routine once.”

“Maybe he stepped out.” Kuro shrugged. In the corner of his eyes, he saw Hyde make a disappointed expression. He didn’t know why he would be disappointed since he wasn’t close with Licht nor did he know him. He brushed off the thoughts and decided not to pry into his brother’s life.

“I’m going to text him. Here’s your costume, Kuro. Hurry up and get changed so we can get you ready for the stage.” Mahiru handed him the black costume and lightly pushed him behind the changing screen. As they waited for him to finish, he sat in front of the vanity and organized the makeup. Kuro was an attractive man so Mahiru didn’t think he needed to wear makeup.

“You’re a reporter now, Hyde?” Mahiru phased it as a question even though he already knew the answer. “I read an article you did on the idol contest. You didn’t give your own opinion on the results. Is there an idol or group that you enjoy?”

“It’s kinda lame.” Hyde evaded his question. “There are a lot of groups and bands here so I might like one of them. Checkmate is the main event, I hear.”

“Kuro and Licht shine on stage and their passion always show.” Mahiru said proudly. He helped create the band when they were teenagers and he had seen how hard the two worked. He recalled the long nights he would stay up with Licht to make songs as Kuro sketched costumes. While Kuro could appear lazy, he knew how determined he would be once he found something or someone he loved.

Kuro stepped out from behind the changing screen. “I’m finished. What do you think?”

“Nice and simple.” Mahiru had seen him wear many costumes for different performances but he would never stop feeling his heart skip with each one. He carefully placed lipstick on his lips and then walked to Kuro. He stood on his toes and pressed his lips onto Kuro’s cheek to create a kiss mark as part of his costume. As Mahiru pulled back, Kuro leaned forward to steal a quick kiss.

“Kuro, you can’t do that in front of your brother!” Mahiru blushed. He reached up and gently wiped the lipstick from Kuro’s lips caused by the quick kiss. He tried to hide how his kiss affected him and lightly pushed him into a chair. “Sit down so I can tie up your hair. Be careful to not smudge that lipstick mark. I don’t want a repeat of last week where I had to re-apply it five times.”

Hyde watch Mahiru brush his brother’s hair and a thought came to him. “That lipstick mark is incorporated in most of your costumes. Is that how you usually make the mark?”

“We had stamps made for Kuro and Licht so they can put the lipstick mark on themselves easily. Kuro keeps losing his stamp though. No matter how many times I lecture him on being organize, he’ll misplace it somewhere. Thinking simply, it’ll be easier for me to make the kiss mark like this rather than buy new stamps.” Mahiru told him.

He didn’t notice the small grin Kuro wore but Hyde did. He very much doubted that his brother lost the stamps on accident. His suspicion was confirmed when Kuro touched the kiss mark and said: “Oops, it got smudge. Can you fix it for me?”

“I’ll borrow your catchphrase and say: troublesome.” Mahiru rolled his eyes but then he giggled softly. He wiped the lipstick from his cheek before he kissed him again. He couldn’t pretend to be irritated for long and smiled. “I don’t mind doing this since we’re dating but don’t get too greedy, Kuro.”

“You two haven’t changed.” Hyde rolled his eyes and slipped out of the room to give them privacy. He was happy that his brother was in a loving relationship but he didn’t want to watch them flirt with each other. There was only so long he could listen to their corny lines before he developed a cavity. He started to close the door but then he paused when a hand wrapped around him over the doorknob. Beside him, sharp blue eyes stared back at him. He forced him to close the door and let go of his hand.

Licht glared at the man he thought was spying on his friends. His eyes fell onto the reporter badge around his neck and roughly shoved him away from the dressing room. Hyde was too shocked by the man’s sudden appearance for him to quickly regain his balance. He fell back against the wall and Licht slammed his hand next to him. “What are you doing spying on people? This is why I hate reporters.”

Hyde stumbled over his words to make a proper reply but he was starstruck. He never told his brother but he was a big fan of Checkmate. At first, he merely bought their CDs to support his brother but quickly became entranced by their songs. A large reason he enjoyed their music was Licht and his angelic voice. He reported on many celebrities and he knew someone with Licht’s talent was rare.

He could still remember the first time he heard him sing. Before they formed the group, they would write songs in Kuro’s room. He overheard them and thought he heard the voice of an angel. Hyde was too nervous to talk to him when he was a teenager.

Hyde’s silence irritated Licht. The way he wouldn’t meet his eyes made him think that he was guilty of spying on Kuro and Mahiru for a gossip story. Mahiru was his best friend and he hoped to start an idol group with him. Mahiru told him that he didn’t want to be in the spotlight and Licht respected that. With that thought, he wouldn’t allow a reporter to make an article about his friend.

“Reporters like you have no respect for people’s privacy. Don’t you dare publish anything about Mahiru.” Licht ordered. He grabbed his collar and forced Hyde to meet his eyes. “Don’t think I’ll hesitate to punish you because of Checkmate’s public image. If you make Kuro and Mahiru’s relationship public, I will take your camera and shove it—”

The door opened beside them and Mahiru peered out of the room. “There you are Licht. What are you doing to Kuro’s brother? Let him go right now!”

“Brother?” He knew that Mahiru wouldn’t lie to him and looked back to the man’s reporter badge. Licht found that the man had the same last name as Kuro. He realized that the man was likely only visiting his brother. He stepped back and muttered, “Sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay.” Hyde could see that Licht was sincerely sorry for his assumption and action.

“We’ll talk about this later but we need to get ready for the charity event. Checkmate is going on stage in twenty minutes.” Mahiru took Licht’s arm and pulled him into the room. He waved to Hyde and said, “You can come in and talk as long as you leave your reporter badge on the table.”

[inceputuri]

a story in three acts.

Act. I

“—so he hasn’t caused any trouble?”

“no, it’s not that mrs. rhie.”

“ms. rhie.”

“of course, my apologies. ms. rhie, it’s not that he gets into any trouble. elias is a good kid, he is. if he could just talk more in class, perhaps be encouraged to participate more…”

the painting wall is blue. miss hawkings would ask him – what kind of blue, elias? eyelids dropping in a blink, little hands curl into fists as he thinks. he thinks it’s a dark blue. dark blue like the new car that mum bought for him yesterday. he wants to play with the car, it’s dark blue and silver. it’s like the car dad would have, he thinks. he blinks again, tiny fist curling in his mum’s coat. she’s still talking to miss hawkings, but elias wants to go home. his favorite program will be on the telly now. maybe he could play with the car and watch the telly, all at once. he tugs on the coat, shy eyes avoiding looking across where miss hawkings sits.

“not now, elias.” his mum shushes, hands patting away where his are held tight. she turns back, says something more to miss hawkings, but elias’ mind has already drifted. he wants to go play. there’s toys by the blue painting wall, maybe he could go play there. hands pushing on the seat of the chair that holds him, he pushes himself to the ledge, dangles –  -

— - miss hawkings will ask him, where are your manners, elias?

toes touching the ground through scruffy shoes, elias eyes miss hawkings again. she has big eyes behind her specs. they look like shells.

he takes a deep breath that feels too tight past his sweater, eyes flighty between where his feet barely scuff the ground and up to where miss hawkings looms. “may i please be excused?” voice small. he teeters along the ledge, fingers tight in small fists.

they’re quiet now. he thinks he interrupted them.

“what was that, sweetheart?” mum asks, and elias turns his gaze to her. his cheeks feel hot.

he mumbles it again, eyes glued to his shoes. she pats his back with an of course, darling, and he stumbles his way off the edge of the chair that had been sharp against his back. miss hawkings and mum continue talking, but elias has already wandered away.

later, when they’re back home, he has his favorite shiny car in his hands. he rolls it over the table – the telly is loud in the background. he’s chewing on his favorite sweets.

“mum, does daddy drive a car like this one?” he rolls the car back, and forward. the noises rumble in his chest as he makes them – that’s just how it would sound. vroom.

“i told you, elias – we don’t talk about dad. there’s no dad. he’s not coming back. are you listening to me?” there’s a shuffling before a shadow falls over him, and the car is taken from his small hands. it’s dark blue, and it’s shiny. It goes vroom. “no more talking about dad!”

there’s a huff of angry footsteps, and a door slam. on screen, dennis the menace decides on his next adventure.

Act II.

his name is noah. he’s shorter than elias, and about half a gut’s size broader than him too.

elias hates him.

he bikes his way to school before noah wakes up ( which isn’t hard since he works the night shift at the warehouse ), and bikes his way back perfectly timed to catch him in his early evening slumber. sometimes he’s not as good about it: spends too long with his headphones plugged in behind the shed that sits next to the building of his school, pencil scratching along the sketch pad he calls his own; bikes the long way back and doesn’t get home till the sun is already dipping; stops by the corner store at the end of town so he can buy himself the sweets he loves without running into the kids from school. on those days he comes back and has to sit there with a straight face and noah gets to talking, loud guffaws spilling past dull lips and framed by a face that needs shaving. he’ll slap elias’ back a lot, talk all over mum and say send him to work with me, an’ it’ll put some meat on his bones. or, what’ve you got your head shoved so down far in, boy – haven’t you got any friends to muck around with? every time he sees his drawing pad. ( he makes sure to shove it deep, far down in his backpack before even entering the house now. )

he thinks maybe noah thinks that this is them bonding. ( it’s not. ) he thinks noah’s taken over every corner of their home like a parasite that he wants to scrub clean until all he can smell is bleach. elias like his silences, and noah ruins them with grubby hands and a laugh that cracks. he doesn’t know, doesn’t understand how mum can be happy with a guy like that. how could she?

maybe it was a phase.

he stops hoping for it to be a phase when he comes back home one day, headphones shoved deep enough in his ear that he can’t hear the telly from where he’s sure noah is running it – and out comes his mom, pulling him in her arms like she hasn’t for years now. he can feel her shaking against him, and it alarms him ( it’s like he’s forgotten how to be held, feels the motions like it’s somebody taking puppet strings and tugging along his limbs ). his hands are grasping her elbows, thin fingers tugging away the ear buds as he pulls back to look at her.

“ma? –mum? what – -“ his voice cracks a bit, out of disuse, maybe. he feels like he hasn’t spoken all day.

“i’m pregnant!” she says, and those are definitely tears he sees in her eyes. his chest closes up so fast he thinks he’s going to throw up, stomach dropping somewhere past down the ratty converse lining his feet. he opens his mouth to speak and closes it again, tongue not used to speaking, let alone trying to put words to this feeling of – but i’m right here, mum? i’m right here? what do we need another baby for, i’m right here ma i’m – -

“wh—what I—”

“oh, elias.” she’s pressing a tight-lipped kiss to his forehead, and if he didn’t feel like his head was reeling, maybe he would have held her tighter and sobbed into her chest. he doesn’t get the chance to, though. she pulls away, bustling off into the living room to where he can hear noah is sitting. does he know? it’s got to be his.

a mini noah. a mini noah that was going to be his family.

his backpack hits the floor and there’s a few scuffles to be heard before the bathroom floor is slamming shut. he pukes up his lunch that day.

Act III.

he gets used to the idea of having another body in the house. not that it really matters when he spends so much of his time outside of it.

he’d liked the silences at home – he could shut his bedroom door and not have to see noah’s face, or mum’s, for that matter. and elias didn’t hate it, y’know. his room. or the home. he knew where the cracks and the dents were, and he could trace his gaze over the step where he’d tripped and lost his two front teeth. he liked that the kitchen window only got sunlight in the morning, and that his bedroom window only got it in the evening. the house was home, bodies, people that he didn’t keep around, all wrapped in casing of wood and steel.

company he could control, tolerate – want, without accepting disappointment.

but suddenly his home isn’t really his. it hadn’t been from the moment noah stepped in. but now – - now the stairwell corners are collecting miscellaneous toys from the store that mum thought were adorable enough to bring for the baby. little trinkets are collected, small spaces are claimed and made. he’d started feeling like a shadow sometime around eleven years old ( when his mother deemed him old enough to have his wits about, and stopped talking to him like he was her son, and started keeping him more like he was another memory of times lost ) – and it’s at the age of sixteen that he feels himself becoming a ghost. it’s like they’re building a life for themselves, with not even a damn ring on the finger, and he is the stowaway being cornered into the attic.

so he doesn’t come back home, much.

he stays out longer, says he’s sleeping over at ‘friends’places’ when really he’s tucked himself into the community park’s tree house – only to return home at the early crack of dawn. in fact, he does it so often, he gets used to the idea of it; starts putting it into perspective. he only has to be here for two more years, until he’s done with school. maybe it won’t be so bad. he’s done a well enough job at blocking noah out of his senses long enough to make him feel like a long-lasting, bad memory. maybe he can do the same with everything else that was changing.

( he doesn’t think about how that leaves a bitter taste in his mouth; the feeling that he belongs somewhere in the past, stowed away and forgotten – no place for him in this new life his mum was building. not him, not dad. )

they tell him it happens, sometimes. well – they tell noah, and elias is seated there next to him; quiet, numb. he can’t really feel his hands.

“there was nothing you could’ve done.” they say. elias can’t swallow past the guilt in his throat that screams: wasn’t there? wasn’t there?

mum doesn’t speak much anymore. not to him, not to noah. noah doesn’t come around as often either, but he hangs around enough. sometimes he sees him meandering by the front door when he comes back from school, having a smoke – like he’s wondering whether he should go in or not. elias doesn’t hate his guts half as much anymore. he starts to notice the little things, like how the right side of his face droops a little more than his left. how he has a shake to his hand. he sees it every time he lifts his hand up, half-stubbed cigarette sticking out between stout fingers.

if he’d hated being at home before, he really hates it now. the air feels so thick, elias feels like he’s choking on it all the time. the silences before used to sit heavy around his shoulders, now they cut – slice until it feels like his tongue is battling claws keeping it shut to his jaw any time he tries to speak. he doesn’t really speak to mum much. or at all. she spends a lot of time in the backyard, hands warm around a cup of her favorite tea on the rocking chair noah built for her. she spends her days sitting like that – she takes less and less shifts at the diner, spends more and more time with the setting sun.

elias doesn’t have the courage to ask her why.

he doesn’t know how he passes through a year of this. he’s spent about eighteen of them in silence, but somehow this feels worse. death hangs around them like a humid coating that won’t leave the sweat of their backs, and elias feels himself leaving his body more and more each day – outside, looking in. he goes through the motions like he has for the past four years of his life: goes to school, barely gets by, fucks about the town, comes back at night when it’s dark enough that he knows mum would have retired to bed, and he’s so tired that his eyes can’t keep themselves open. he tells himself, begs himself to remember that his body is his own – but the thoughts start to feel foreign in his mind. he learns to forget.

he’s already decided he isn’t going to spend the summer at home. ( or any season after that, at all. ) preparing for it starts to feel like a silent march of unsaid goodbyes. he plans it all. he’ll tell mum he’s off to a camp. she won’t ask more questions, neither will noah. ( he’ll be lucky, maybe, if they read the letter all the way through. ) and the letters will follow after that. little lies, telling him he got one lucky opportunity from here to there. he’ll run away as far as his legs can carry them, until he’s shaking so hard because he’s out of breath and there’s no more cobble-stoned paths for him to hear the fall of his feet on.

it’s the week of graduation before he’s had the chance to think about it too much. there’s a packed bag under his bed that he checks every night, zips and unzips until he’s had every single item in it memorized. it’s the week of graduation, and everyone’s out taking pictures by the city square waterfall. he didn’t see it because he didn’t go, but he knows that’s where they are. that’s where they’ve gone every year – black gowned kids with knobby joints and lanky limbs. elias stays at home, takes two steps at a time down to the living room where noah is sitting on the sofa chair. ( it’s become his sofa chair, after all this time. elias can’t look at the sorry dogtooth print and not think of noah and his ugly face. )

“you’ll come around more?” he has to force the words out of his chest, reach down and pull them until they’re sputtering – mangled, a little quiet. but there, in the air. he’s said them, spoken up to noah on his own for one. he sees the surprise on his face when noah turns to look at him, brows rising.

“—what?” he pauses, as if deciding what to do with this new turn of events. that is: elias, speaking on his own. “speak up lad, i can’t hear you.”

“you.” he says, gulps down the ball that’s building up in his throat and fixes him with a glare that’s narrow only because elias thinks he’ll crumble if he looks away. “you’ll come around here more, yeah? for mum?” he’s practiced these words so many times, over and over in his head until they feel like rote memorization from a textbook labeled – how to put a name to that sinking feeling in your chest & other ways to say goodbye without ever saying it. “she needs the company.”

there’s a pause between them. the telly crackles.

noah lets out a gruff answer that elias can only assume to be the affirmative, before he’s turning away. ( noah doesn’t try much to talk to elias nowadays. he gave up somewhere along the lines, elias thinks. ) “yeah. we both do.” and that’s all he says on the matter.

he never gathers the courage to talk to his mum. he puts it all in a letter instead, finding it all easier to write down. it doesn’t sound like a goodbye when he reads it back, even though elias has no intentions of returning. maybe it’s better this way. ( maybe it isn’t. ) it has to be.

he leaves the letter folded in a neat envelope, under the coaster she’s laid out on the table she sets her tea in when she sits in the backyard. his name is on the front of envelope, the cursive of the e and the l a little shaky. he never did learn how to write cursive too well. never mind that his hand had been shaking when he wrote it.

he boards a bus heading south the night after his graduation. there was a school sponsored grad party, on a yacht down thames of all things. elias doesn’t attend. that’s how it should be. ( that’s how it’s always been. ) he sits himself down on the last row, tucked all the way to the right corner, and hooks his headphones in to drown out the thoughts in his head. for someone so quiet, his mind is really damn loud – and it’s been saying the same thing for a year now.  

the sane part of his mind says, you can’t wish away a baby. you couldn’t have wished away mum’s baby. that’s now how this works. and he knows it. knows that isn’t even close to how things work. but then he thinks of the unknown mask of his dad’s memory and how angry his mum was at him for not being around, and he thinks of how he’s got nothing but a bag full of things to start a new life somewhere and thinks – maybe you can. maybe you can wish away someone after all.

[sadrien]

prince of cats

chapter one: if i profane with my unworthiest hand

on ao3 || on ffnet

[full note on ao3]

it been a journey to get here. i started outlining in november.... i'm really excited that i'm finally able to share it with everyone! this fic was inspired by two (2) posts. one of which was this video of salem the glittery cat

shoutout to everyone in the miracusquad who was online when i started talking about this! thank you for letting me idea bounce/dump, and thank you for being so supportive in general <3 shoutout to my @mlfanfiction​ fam for not yelling at me when they realize that i had many other things i was supposed to be doing in november. things that were not this fic.... i love you guys and finally, massive shoutout to @ladriened​!!! thank you for your endless support kc <3 

last quick thing! im going to be using these tags for this fic: 'proc ml' and 'prince of cats ml'. obviously i wasnt going to use poc and prince of cats is already used for half a dozen other things because...shakespeare

enjoy!!!!

Marinette hums to herself as she hauls her bag up on her shoulder and flicks off the lights in her apartment. For once, she got a decent amount of sleep and she actually ate breakfast this morning, so today is already better than most. Now if she can get the stitching on this new jacket done before lunch…

She pauses to check her phone as she closes the door behind her. Nothing surprising, nothing pressing. Alya confirming lunch like she does every week and insisting Marinette bring juicy gossip to the table. Marinette rolls her eyes as she turns the key in the lock. Fortunately, or unfortunately for Alya, work has been drama free lately. A nice breath of fresh air after a tense argument between two other designers that ended in screaming a few weeks ago. For days after, the workroom was stifling and awkward. Marinette is glad she has nothing to bring to Alya. Besides, Alya will have more enough to say on her own.

Marinette looks up in surprise as she spots movement out of the corner of her eye. She blinks as a black cat leaps up onto the sill of the window at the end of the hall. The cat sits up and licks it paw, shimmering gold in the morning light.

“Huh.” Marinette stuffs her keys into her bag and inches closer to the cat. A golden cat, that’s…odd. She didn’t even realize anyone on this floor had a cat. She glances over her shoulder as a door swings shut and someone swears. She sees the cat jump down from the window out in her peripheral vision and run toward the stairs. Marinette takes another step into the center of the hallway with half a mind to follow it.

Instead, someone crashes into her.

Marinette stumbles backward, her legs tangling with theirs. She groans as she hits the floor hard, banging her elbow on the ground. She winces as the person above her apologizes profusely.

“I-I’m so sorry, so sorry, I didn’t mean—”

Marinette stares at him, heart in her throat. His face is flushed and his blond hair falls in his eyes, eyes so green that spring itself would be jealous.

He stops talking and she forces herself to look away from his eyes. Instead she studies his coat, long and dark with impeccable stitching. She tries to come up with a price range for a trenchcoat of this quality to distract herself from the fact that his hands are bracing either side of her head and they’re incredibly close for two complete strangers.

“H-hi,” she stutters.

He blinks. “Uh…hey.” His eyes go wide as a meow echos through the stairwell. “Shit!” he whispers, scrambling to his feet. He runs a hand through his hair, making it puff around his head like a halo, and offers Marinette his other hand. She hesitates for a moment before taking it, letting him tug her to her feet. “Nice to meet you, I have to go!” he says as he sprints toward the stairs. He hooks onto the wall and skids as he turns the corner into the stairwell.

It takes Marinette a moment to realize her bag has spilled all over the hallway floor.

She tries to shake the stranger and his sparkling cat from her mind as she picks up her things and hurries to work. She drowns herself in fabric and sketches, but she can’t get his face out of her mind. When she picks up a pencil to work on a dress design, she finds herself itching to trace out his profile and the curl of his hair.

Marinette groans and puts her head down on her sketchbook. She’s twenty four! She’s a grown woman with a job and an apartment and a social life. She should be over the collège crush phase, but here she is. Obsessing over someone she hasn’t even exchanged names with. Strangers have caught her eye before, a smile making her heartstrings twinge or bright eyes causing butterflies to flutter in her stomach, but she hasn’t experienced something like this in years. All feelings and mush and sudden wooshes of emotion that make her feel like she’s floating.

This is ridiculous.

Marinette texts Alya, because she needs to be grounded, stat. She doesn’t have time to be moon eyed over a guy, no matter how tall and handsome.

From: fashion goddess To: the Most Beautiful      Are we still on for lunch???      Like 1000000%??      (I know you confirmed earlier I just need like. Another confirmation sorry)

From: the Most Beautiful To: fashion goddess      of course!!!      arent u at work? 

From: fashion goddess To: the Most Beautiful      :P      Yes

From: the Most Beautiful To: fashion goddess      something up??

From: fashion goddess To: the Most Beautiful      Yes but Im saving it for lunch      The usual??

From: the Most Beautiful To: fashion goddess      gotcha      yes!!      see u in a bit! <3

From: fashion goddess To: the Most Beautiful      See you then!

Marinette puts down her phone and gives in. When she returns to actual work, the stranger’s face covers two pages of her sketchbook. 

✦ ✦ ✦

Thoughts of the stranger vanish from Marinette’s mind as Alya practically collapses in the seat across from her.

“Are you alright?” Marinette asks, reaching out to touch the back of Alya’s hand.

“I hate my job,” Alya groans. She drops her head down on the table with a thump.

Marinette rolls her eyes but pats the top of Alya’s head anyway. “You love your job.”

“Not today,” Alya mutters. “I’m going to set this entire article on fire.”

“That bad?”

“Yes. I just— words? Sources? Journalism? It’s all horrible.” Alya sighs and wallows for another moment before sitting up. “Didn’t you have something you wanted to talk about?” she asks.

The stranger’s eyes appear in Marinette’s mind and suddenly, under Alya’s gaze, it all seems incredibly trivial. Marinette knows Alya would willingly listen to her talk about the weather and be completely invested in the conversation, but she can see the way work is weighing on Alya’s shoulders. Marinette can feel it weighing on her own. She wouldn’t be lying if she said thinking about the stranger was a good way to procrastinate.

Marinette glances down at the menu, even though she already knows exactly what she’s getting. “Same as you; work. This new line is possibly going to kill me.”

Alya nods in agreement. “Right there with you, girl.”  

✦ ✦ ✦

Marinette stands in the hallway in front of her apartment for much longer than she usually does. Usually, she’s dead on her feet and ready to sleep. Recently, she’s been working longer and longer hours to work on the newest clothing line. But today she’s wired and awake. And has been standing in the hallway fumbling for her keys for almost ten minutes.

She shakes her head as she slides her key into the lock and twists it until she hears the click. She’s an adult, not a teenager. She needs to pull herself together. She also needs a glass of wine and Netflix. She pushes the door open and flicks on the lights in her apartment. Just as she’s stepping inside, the apartment door next to her opens and a tall, blond man steps out, holding a phone to his ear and keeping his eyes cast to the floor as he locks the door behind him.

Marinette scrambles to shut her apartment door, her heart beating in her ears. She feels like she was just caught staring, even though he hadn’t even glanced her way.

Right. So her immediate next door neighbor that she never bothered to meet is her handsome stranger from earlier. Of course. That makes sense, she knows almost everyone else on the floor.

She sighs and rests her forehead against the door. “You’re ridiculous,” she murmurs to herself.

She toes off her shoes, changes into pajamas, and collapses on the couch with her laptop, her tablet, and a glass of wine. The bottle sits on the coffee table in front of her and she’s sorely tempted to just drink straight from the bottle. The past few weeks have been overwhelming and dealing with a crush on top of it— 

Marinette isn’t sinking that low. Not yet.

(She hears Alya in her head insisting that drinking wine from the bottle isn’t a low point. She hears Alya say it as she hands Nino and Marinette their own glasses before taking a long sip from the bottle. “I feel like a teenager again,” Alya says with a bright smile and knocks the bottle against Nino’s glass.)

Marinette turns on the TV and chooses a show to start binging at random. Then she makes herself comfortable with her tablet and computer and lets her mind wander as she draws whatever comes to mind. Dresses and jackets start to form on the blank canvas of her screen. The swoops of skirts and the curls of hair. The straight lines and sharp curves forming themselves into clothes and people and expressions and accessories.

Marinette finds herself using an awful lot of green.