#this is like. personally embarrassing oh my god. The proportions are off!! I spent the most time fucking with the perspective and anatomy

[magpiesbones]

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[tobesobri]

Bust | Part One: Chisel (7.8k)

“Disappointed?” She tilted her head, smirking at him. She had no right to think he liked her better than Rose. She, herself, liked Rose better too. So she was sure he had to be at least a little bit sad to see Rose missing.

He smiled and the second she saw those dimples she was reminded of his Instagram all over again.

“A little,” he nodded, pinching his thumb and index finger together in the air and she painfully agreed.

“Well, you get me all by myself tonight.” She didn’t realize how it sounded until it was too late. Until she was cringing at all the sexual insinuations she’d just made for absolutely no reason. She could have said something else that wasn’t laced in an innuendo. But no, of course not. She had to continue her embarrassing streak when it came to Harry.

Instead of being creeped out by her, however, and pulling a confused and slightly terrified face, he laughed. And, on God, his laugh was the most amazing thing she’d ever heard. This wasn’t the first time the sound of his laughter graced her eardrums, but it was the first time he was laughing because of something she said that wasn’t about crooked penises.

“Lucky me.”

In which Y/N is an annoyance in Harry’s sculpting class.

story masterlist | my masterlist

It’s not her forte. Her hands don’t know how to hold onto things. They tremble under pressure. They mess things up no matter how hard she tries.

Not that she had really tried very hard to begin with.

Sculpting was just not something she saw herself doing. Ever. Not with her lack of agility and poor attention to detail. But to appease her whining best friend… she’d do just about anything.

The class was held in a little art studio with large windows for ventilation and tall ceilings to display the mass amounts of student artwork on butcher block shelves. She never thought she’d be back in a classroom type setting after graduating college, but here she was.

Learning, what she proclaimed as, a useless skill.

The studio was smack dab in the middle of an inclined street. Little quaint buildings that sat on an angle because why not pour foundations on a hill and make her weekly walks to the studio a little sweatier than she would have preferred. Even if it was winter in their little beach village town. Sweat still happened. It just happened underneath a scarf and a hand-knitted beanie from the sewing shop next door.

She could not deny, however, that the late afternoon classes every Wednesday and Saturday brought her way more joy than she’d anticipated. She looked forward to meeting up with Rose at the bottom-of-the-hill cafe, sharing the daily special with her before making their way up to the studio. It was calm in the middle and end of her hectic weeks that she most definitely needed.

What she didn’t need, however, what she most certainly did not look forward to, what she could have done without, what took her joy and smashed it against a wall was him.

The instructor.

Harry ‘I have nice hands and a misleading smile’ Styles.

It had only been two weeks into their classes and he had already told her one of her bowls was garbage. That the way she sculpted a face was terrifying. That she couldn’t draw for shit and that made her attempts at sculpting even worse.

So by Saturday of their second week, she didn't care anymore. He was a jerk and she would be the best pain in his ass she knew how to be.

While everyone called him Harry, like he’d asked them to the very first day, she called him Mr. Styles. Just to see the way his eyes rolled back into his head and his nostrils flared. While everyone asked him insightful questions, like what glaze was best to use or what tool sculpted eyes most efficiently, she asked him if she could use the bathroom.

She got a fucking kick out of irritating him. Knowing he went home after their classes just as irritated as she’d been. With clenched fists and a pounding headache.

It helped that he was insanely too attractive to be teaching a bunch of millennials about sculpting in his free time.

“You should really leave him alone, he might kick us out, you know,” Rose said on their first third week walk up Justice Hill. There was no justice in walking uphill, and most fucking certainly not in the humidity-ridden beachside town. She found the street name personally offensive.

“Oh fuck him. If he kicks us out, he’ll have to refund us.” Y/N did not, even for a second, bother to lower her voice as they neared the studio, knowing any one of the other students could hear her if they were to walk by.

“Refund us what? We got the class for free, remember?”

Y/N racked her brain like she’d completely forgotten that little detail before shrugging it off. “Whatever. He won’t kick us out.”

“How do you know for sure?”

Before she could make some stupid remark about how Harry secretly liked her pestering him or about how much he seemed much too impressed by Rose’s progress to ever get rid of them, the devil himself turned the corner in front of them.

He came out from an alleyway that connected the street to a tiny parking lot. And while they were going uphill, he was coming down. He was hard to miss and so were they, but still he attempted to not see them.

“What a prick,” Y/N mumbled under her breath as they got closer to each other. And almost as if he could read her lips, he rolled his eyes so fucking hard she thought maybe they’d finally pop right out of his head this time.

“Shush,” Rose warned as the three of them finally met in the middle, at the door to the studio that was decorated with a bright yellow ‘Open’ sign, children’s drawings, hand-painted hours of operation, and one too many polaroids of past students and their sculpting creations.

They all stood and stared at each other for a moment before he opened the door first, holding it as, to Y/N’s surprise, he let them go in first. And while she was still in shock at the gesture, his body language said it all. Like he was forcing himself to be nice to the dynamic duo, to the bane of his existence. While she was too distracted by Harry and his clay-stained trousers and cable-knit sweater with a cartoon deer embroidered on it, Rose walked into the studio first. Giving Harry a polite smile that he returned almost… genuinely.

And right when Y/N made a move to follow, Harry stepped in front of her. She jolted back as he just about let the door slam her in the face.

Today was going to be fantastic.

*                                              *                                 *

“Right, so,” Harry began, clapping his dry hands together as he took a seat behind his messy table at the front of the studio. “I know some of you haven’t finished your heads yet, but our focus today will still be on the bodies. We’ll have a catch up on Saturday to make up for it.”

Y/N sought out her head on the wall where she’d placed it last week beside Rose’s, realizing for the first time just how ugly it really was. And to think she’d been trying to sculpt Harry’s annoying face. Even more annoying that no matter what she did, he was always a lot more handsome than her hunk of polymer clay.

“... because, like I mentioned, we have special guests today who will be modeling for you.” Harry stood again while two very thin and very conventionally perfect people came out in white robes. Y/N couldn’t help but gag.

“This is Hope and Jordan.” Harry motioned as he introduced them, not getting any further in his instructions before Y/N raised her hand in the back of the class.

Rose attempted to get her to put it down, too, because Harry was clearly in the middle of something, but it didn’t really work out so well. Y/N was a stubborn son of a bitch.

“Yeah?” He pointed at her, sighing while planting his hands on his hips. He knew nothing she had to ask was going to be at all beneficial to the group.

She cleared her throat and just from the smirk on her face, he braced for impact. “Are they going to be modeling nude?”

She made just about everyone blush, except for Harry. He hated how she never took anything seriously. That the art he’d spent years perfecting enough to teach meant nothing to her. It was all just a primary school joke in her eyes.

“Yes, actually,” he answered bluntly and then returned to what he was going to say before Y/N’s interruption. “So I want everyone to get a piece of paper and while they’re modeling, do a rough sketch of what you might want the body of your sculpture to look like. The importance is to get the proportions down so that when you use the clay, you’ll know how much you’ll need for each part. Just like we did for the heads.”

Harry walked around the class once the models were stripped and the sketching began. Rose started immediately, concentration on her face as she flipped between the female model and her piece of sketchbook paper.

All Y/N had was a scratch piece of grey-toned mixed media paper she’d found laying on their table. And absolutely no clue where to even begin.

She stared at Harry instead of the naked models, watching as he helped others around the room, pointing at their sketches and where they could improve. His other hand behind his back that gave her perfect access to stare at his rings. Remembering how he’d taken them off guide their first few sculpting lessons. Remembering how his hands had so gently but so fucking firmly caressed the mound of clay into the exact shapes he wanted like he knew exactly what to do with those things.

“See it’s going just as I expected back here.” When his voice was at her ear, she jumped out of her skin and out of her daydreams. Twisting her head around to him as he stood behind her, she found him staring over her shoulder at her blank piece of paper.

She narrowed her eyes at him once she’d fully processed what he said. “Sorry I’m trying to figure out the best way to scale up that dude’s micro-cock, proportionally, if you don’t mind.”

He just about choked on his own spit, and rightfully so. But when he glanced to her eyes instead of her disappointing blank canvas, with his eyebrows furrowed and his cute little nostrils flared just the way she liked them, it was clear his reaction wasn’t for the reasons she’d intended.

He was quiet. Lips pursed, mind completely empty apart from hearing her say cock over and over again. Echoing against his skull. Making a home for itself in his hippocampus for later purposes. When he was not in a class full of students with their eyes on him, watching him get hard at the fucking way she said cock.

“Leave you to it then,” he cleared his throat and continued on.

“He may not kick us out, but killing you is still an option,” Rose whispered once Harry was a safe distance away from them.

Y/N leaned back in her seat to watch him walk down the rest of their row. His hands behind his back again, eyes wandering over shoulders.

As long as he had those rings on while he choked her out, she was okay with that.

*                                              *                                 *

Everyone had moved on to their bodies. Gathering the clay they needed from the front and using their sketches as guidelines to build around the pre-made wire and aluminum foil armature. Most everyone had some sort of a form being attached to the heads of their sculptures by the time Y/N even got started.

Because she decided on using Harry as reference after all and he would just not stand still.

With the models gone, they were on their own, with help from Harry of course. He played several videos and gave various demonstrations to aide them. It wasn’t supposed to be perfect, but after she gave it her all for about ten minutes, she was ready to give up. Her body looked like a very lumpy, very deformed version of Shrek.

She took a break again, watching Rose sculpt for a while instead. She watched Harry sometimes too as he walked around the class again in gloves this time. Smoothing out features and picking up tools to aid in the process of forming collarbones and wrinkles.

The studio was in its typical state of disarray. Random cups of milky water on every table, pieces of clay smushed into the tile floor, tools and used gloves strewn about with no rhyme or reason. Harry thrived in that kind of environment while Y/N well… she hated it.

She wanted organization and cleanliness. Her nine-to-five called for that kind of thing. But she was slowly getting used to it. To letting go and embracing the mess while she was here. She wasn’t the one that had to clean it all up anyways.

The only time she wasn’t daydreaming was when Harry started up their aisle again, walking in front of their table this time however. He helped a couple others at the end of their row, watched some of them work before eventually landing right in front of Rose’s station.

He cocked his head to the side while he watched her struggle to form an even pair of breasts on her headless lady. And even though Y/N was trying her best to look busy, she just couldn’t help it.

Rose handed her work in progress over to him with a frustrated huff after he offered his assistance. And like… no way was Y/N missing out on Mr. Harry fucking Styles fingering some clay into the perfect set of boobs. No way.

Especially fucking not when he removed his gloves and used those fingers in their bare glory the way she wished he’d use them someplace else. She watched while he slapped some more clay on Rose’s poor flat-chested model and proceeded to smooth it out with his expert fingertips. She watched the clay melt under his touch, watching him dip into their shared cup of water to aid the process. She looked away long enough to admire the concentration on his face, the way he bit down on his lip and furrowed his brows the way she was used to. She watched again while he fixed all of Rose’s mistakes just by gliding his thumbs over the two perfect little lumps on her sculpture that sure as hell hadn’t started out so perfectly.

She had no idea why Harry sculpting a tiny set of breasts on what would eventually become a mermaid got her so hot and bothered but… it did. It did so fucking much, she was almost salivating like a dog by the end of it, thinking about what his hands could do with the real deal. But then he handed it back to Rose with a content smile on his face and burst Y/N’s little bubble.

“Might be better,” he said softly and Rose nodded in agreement. She hadn't noticed before, but when he stood to his full height it was clear he’d been leaning over on their table. Closer to the both of them than he’d ever really been before. And she knew he was tall, taller than Rose, who was five foot seven inches herself. And not just that but his shoulders were broad and his arms were a humble amount of muscular. Almost like he was a sculptor that kneaded clay a hundred hours a week. Maybe that was why she was a soaking wet mess.

He stretched his gloves back onto his hands and glanced Y/N’s direction. Eyes going straight from her disaster of an art piece to her flushed face and back.

“Don’t even know where to start to fix yours up,” he commented while moving slightly to his right until he stood directly in front of Y/N this time.

She looked at her abomination, wondering if it would be her worst idea to push more of his buttons or not. But, she went for it anyways. Her lack of impulse control would definitely come back to bite her in the ass one day.

“It’s the penis. Still haven’t gotten that down yet.”

He nodded, amused rather than his previous reaction to her antics. “Can see that, yeah. He’s got a bit of a crooked willy there.” Harry poked at it with his index finger and she became hyper aware of his closeness this time while he leaned over her tabletop again. Because his hands were right there, almost touching her own. And they were big, bigger than she realized. She could see him perfectly through the transparent gloves, his long fingers with clipped nails at the end that were well taken care of, considering.

She would need to soak herself in holy water for a while after this.

“Oh, is that not what the male anatomy looks like?” She teased, not fully realizing they were getting along for the first time and it was because of dicks. Because she’d put an oddly shaped protrusion on her figure before she’d even done much else with the blob of clay stuck to her form.

“No,” he laughed, shaking his head at her and standing up straight again. “Maybe if you paid attention when the models were out here, you’d know that.”

“Maybe if you hired someone who’s cock I could actually see from all the way back here without a fucking magnifying glass.” She was only slightly aware of how fully immersed she was in the debate over this penis.

But all he heard was cock again. She really needed to stop saying that. Because this time his mind was a little more imaginative while he stared at her lips and thought about the way she might say that on her knees in front of him.

He shook his head clear. She was an insufferable nuisance that he just barely tolerated on a good day. He didn't need her clogging up his brain with her cock talk too.

“Just fix it.” He mumbled.

She huffed when he left her to her own devices, not even bothering to offer his help, but she really shouldn’t expect any less. If he helped her, he would be doing it all for her. And that was hardly the point of taking a class to learn how to sculpt if the hot instructor was just going to do everything for you.

“Is there a reason why you’re arguing with him about penises?” Rose asked, hushing her voice around the apparently taboo word.

“It’s fun. And if I’m going to sit here in this stupid class with you I’m going to have some fun.” Y/N, on the other hand, was not hushed or subtle at all, as she ripped off the phallic piece of clay from her sculpture.

Rose cringed when she glanced past Y/N to find Harry looking right at her. He had been helping someone a few seats down and clearly not far enough away to have missed what Y/N said. All of his features drooped and he looked genuinely upset. Rose wished she could put a filter over Y/N’s mouth to save everyone from her insensitive outbursts. Especially Harry. He always tried so hard and for Y/N to brush everything off and boil it all down to a ‘stupid class’ even broke Rose’s heart a little. So she could only imagine how Harry felt.

After their typical hour and a half was up, once everyone at least had some semblance of a body minus the legs and arms, Harry called the class back to order.

“Alright, that’s time. You can put your armatures back on the shelves, carefully. As always, I’ll be around for a little while after. Have a great rest of your night, I’ll see you all on Saturday.” He finished his spiel, turning away to help clean up before a lightbulb went off in his head and his voice rang through the studio again, “Oh, and make sure you bring your sketches back with you!”

Everyone worked on cleaning up, including Harry. And while Y/N took both her and Rose’s sculptures over to their respective spots on the shelves, Rose walked up to the front of the class without any warning whatsoever.

She tapped Harry’s shoulder and watched while his smile faded just the tiniest bit after he turned to find her. That Rose’s poor face had to be associated with the thunderstorm that was Y/N.

“I just wanted to say sorry… about Y/N.” Both Rose and Harry glanced at the girl in question near the back of the studio, playing with their two sculpted bodies like they were barbie dolls. “I forced her to do this with me so she hasn’t really taken it seriously. But I’m really enjoying the class, you’re a fantastic instructor.”

His smile returned again and if he was being honest with himself, it really did make him feel better to hear her say that. He had some sort of a reasoning for Y/N’s horrible attitude and while he wished it was her apologizing and not Rose, he figured it was good enough.

“Thank you. You’re doing really well so far. I’ll see you on Saturday, yeah?”

She nodded, giving him one last polite smile before trotting back to Y/N and helping her clean up the last bits around their workstation.

“Please do not tell me you were flirting with him.” Y/N gagged, using a ball of clay to gather the little pieces spread across their table like a magnet.

“No, actually, I was apologizing to him for your behavior.”

Y/N snapped her head up, first at Rose and then Harry all the way across the room from them. “You what?”

“He’s just trying to teach and you’ve been a fucking knobhead.”

Y/N gasped in fake offense, which was actually slightly real offense. “Excuse me, he made fun of my bowl the first day, you seem to have forgotten about that.”

“A toddler could have made a better bowl than that, Y/N, and you know it.”

She frowned, grumpily averting her eyes to the table with her arms crossed over her chest like she really was a toddler.

“I’m just saying,” Rose started, a bit calmer this time, “stop pestering him.”

*                                              *                                 *

Y/N thought about everything Rose had said. About how much she wished she could take things seriously and not constantly get on people’s nerves all the time, but she simply did not know how to. Taking the piss out of things and making jokes was how she got through her days.

But she did agree. Harry didn’t deserve her behavior. Maybe he was a bit of a jerk to her to begin with, but insulting his class might’ve been crossing a line.

Because she didn’t actually think it was stupid. She quite enjoyed listening to him. She liked learning something new and following his instructions as he walked them through some of his techniques. She liked being connected to all the people in the little studio, even if only briefly. Complete strangers all shared that one little thing in common and it made her all fuzzy and warm inside each time she met up with Rose at the end of every Wednesday and Saturday.

Hiding behind a bit of humor, however, was a lot more comfortable than admitting she found pleasure in anything as corny as sculpting classes.

On Friday night, boredom got the best of her and she took a chance upon searching Harry’s name on Instagram while she took her weekly bath. It had been Rose’s idea, the bath, not stalking her attractive sculpting instructor online. That decision was completely her own. But the baths at the end of stressful weeks had a little influence from her best friend, as did most aspects of her life. Baths were a waste of time, in her opinion, and she preferred the efficiency of showering. But Rose had given her nice smelling soaps and weird fizzy things for bath time and well… she couldn’t let them go to waste.

So, amid her regularly scheduled, once-a-week bath, she scrolled shamelessly through Harry’s feed. Because he did, in fact, have an instagram. And she only knew it was him because every fourth post was a video and in said videos were his hands. And, fuck, they were just as nice on film as they were in person.

He didn’t post much of his face, which she thought was an actual crime, but there was a lot about him and his sculpting. She found out it had been his sister’s birthday recently, who, when she smiled, looked just like him. He’d also just finished a piece he seemed really proud of, a clay head and bust of a pit bull, to which he linked in the caption about a local shelter who rescued the breed specifically and needed donations. Her heart nearly fucking melted.

Harry wasn’t much of an open book, though, unless he let his art do most of the talking. He seemed to enjoy sculpting women the most, which is probably why he’d been so good at de-lumping the breasts on Rose’s mermaid. But all the female sculptures he made weren’t sexual at all. They had meaning behind them. Like every single clay face she clicked on throughout his photos had a story. Like he was uplifting rather than fetishizing.

And not every single one of them was skinny and had perfect features. She was shocked to see at least half of the creations she’d skimmed through were of larger women with imperfect breasts at times and asymmetrical faces. Not sticking to typical European beauty standards as she may have originally assumed he might.

It made glancing down at her very much imperfect body feel a little less like an attack. Because Harry spent his time putting all his love into his little sculptures with diverse body types that she almost felt ashamed for ever hating hers.

Once she was done clicking on just about every single post he’d ever made, she finally found a selfie. Well… not really a selfie. Someone else had clearly taken it of him candidly while he had been working. But there was an awfully cute smile on his face and very familiar dimples poking into his cheeks that make her heart warm up again.

He wasn’t a damn thing like she’d assumed he was from the beginning. She thought his art centered around the ideal, and that maybe he was a little condescending because of it. But his Instagram told a different story about his art. And she wanted to know so much more about him.

She was completely lost in her dreams about him that just the smidge of distraction led to accidentally liking a photo of his from two years prior.

She’d have to move countries. Change her name. Delete everything. Never look back. Y/N? A distant memory.

Before dropping her phone in the tub and really making a complete ass out of herself, she threw it, instead, onto her furry rug in the middle of the bathroom and sunk herself down into the water. Wondering if it would really be so bad if she just drowned a little bit.

Because she desperately wanted to. There was nothing she could do. Not even unliking the picture would help. He’d still see the notification. Still click onto her page and realize who in the fuck had just liked a two-year-old post of his that he, himself, had probably even forgotten about.

She wanted nothing more than to sink her head under the pink-tinted water and never come back up. Her mind would not stop with the visualizations of what his reaction might be. Things he might be thinking. Like is this that fucking bitch from my sculpting class? Or whether or not she might find herself blocked by morning.

God, just make it stop.

But suddenly her phone buzzed and her heart just about stopped beating. It had to be the notification that Harry blocked her. Was that even a thing? Did Instagram notify you if someone blocked you? And why was her phone on silent? Because her Instagram notifications and her text messages made very different sounds. If it was just a text, she’d consider ignoring it. She’d continue marinating in all her shame a little while longer. But it ate her alive not knowing what the buzzing was from.

So, carefully, she pulled herself upright and reached across the floor until she had her phone in her hand. Before she clicked the screen on, though, she closed her eyes and inhaled a deep breath.

But when she opened her eyes and found out why her phone had buzzed, she let that breath out and settled her ass down again. It was Rose.

Hey, I can’t make it tomorrow for class. Felt like absolute shit at work today and had to go home because as it turns out I have the flu.

“Fuck,” Y/N mumbled to herself. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to go alone because facing Harry after she just did what she did was one thing, but doing it all by herself was another. But a part of her did still want to go tomorrow. The part before her horrific accident when she was full on getting a love boner over Harry. She’d wanted to see him again so fucking bad.

Okay. I probably won’t go too then

Y/N physically frowned at the idea of waiting another five days to see Harry again. Her brain really needed to make its fucking mind up about him. Did she want to see him or not?

No! You have to go and tell me what I missed!

Y/N rolled her eyes, but felt relieved. Even after her embarrassing slip up, her desire to see Harry again still prevailed. And she hated it. How was she even supposed to look him in the eye tomorrow, both of them knowing damn well she’d been stalking his Instagram back to two fucking years ago?

*                                              *                                 *

It was beyond weird sitting in their usual cafe on Justice Hill alone, even without the whole Instagram fiasco of the previous night she was trying everything in her power to forget about.

However all the desperate attempts to bury that awful experience were fruitless when she glanced across the room over her latte and found a very familiar set of grumpy-looking eyes already staring at her. But once she did notice him, he immediately looked away, stepping up to the counter to order his own cup of coffee.

She nearly choked on her drink, having to set it down and wipe what had spilled onto her chin off with a napkin she’d already used to sop up another one of her messes.

Of the three weeks now they’d been going to classes and frequenting the cafe just before, she’d never seen Harry. It was like he didn’t have a life outside being an instructor. He just popped up in the studio and she always left before him so she had no idea what he did after class either.

But seeing him here was like seeing a fucking unicorn in real life.

She couldn’t help watching him either, even if she knew she shouldn't. But, in her defense, he was wearing beautiful wine-colored corduroy pants with a tight white t-shirt tucked into them and a beige coat thrown over his arm to match. And for shoes he had on his usual white vans that had gained a few more scuff marks since the last time she’d seen him. His fashion would look terrible on anyone besides him.

He glanced her way again, briefly, when he left the counter with his cup, fighting his legs from walking in her direction but not exactly winning that battle.

And to her surprise, he stood right in front of her, behind the chair where Rose usually sat.

And when she looked up at him, he completely forgot why he had come over. He had no fucking clue what he was doing there. But it was too late now for him to back away and pretend like it never happened.

“Your friend's not coming?” His voice shook, but she didn’t notice with the way he finally took his fucking eyes off of her and gave her a chance to breathe again. He glanced at his watch just to confirm that it was, in fact, only five minutes until class started and it seemed reasonable to assume Rose wasn’t meeting her before then.

She pulled herself together and pretended like his close presence wasn’t intimidating her in the slightest.

“Disappointed?” She tilted her head, smirking at him. She had no right to think he liked her better than Rose. She, herself, liked Rose better too. So she was sure he had to be at least a little bit sad to see Rose missing.

He smiled and the second she saw those dimples she was reminded of his Instagram all over again.

“A little,” he nodded, pinching his thumb and index finger together in the air and she painfully agreed.

“Well, you get me all by myself tonight.” She didn’t realize how it sounded until it was too late. Until she was cringing at all the sexual insinuations she’d just made for absolutely no reason. She could have said something else that wasn’t laced in an innuendo. But no, of course not. She had to continue her embarrassing streak when it came to Harry.

Instead of being creeped out by her, however, and pulling a confused and slightly terrified face, he laughed. And, on God, his laugh was the most amazing thing she’d ever heard. This wasn’t the first time the sound of his laughter graced her eardrums, but it was the first time he was laughing because of something she said that wasn’t about crooked penises.

“Lucky me.”

He left her so fucking speechless, that after he started backing away from her table, reminding her to not be late, she still ended up being late. Because she sat in her chair for what felt like a century repeating his two words over and over again in her head.

Lucky me.

She knew he was only teasing but the way he’d just gone along with her original joke and how his voice sounded when he said it, she could not believe it. She could also not believe how Harry had some kind of massive hold on her that she sat staring at a wall for ten minutes trying to figure out how to operate properly again just to get up out of her chair.

Lucky fucking me.

She could scream.

If she wasn’t in public.

There was an extra pep in her step as she took Justice Hill alone this time, partially because of how giddy Harry had made her and partially because she was late… right after he told her not to be. But how was she supposed to be on time after what he’d just done to her emotions. And to the throbbing mess between her legs, but that's another story entirely.

Everyone was all over the place when she’d finally arrived, though, so it made slipping in the back that much easier. Not that she got past Harry’s watchful eyes, though, but at least she wasn’t interrupting anything while the class readied their workstations for another full night of going ham on their sculptures.

Harry kept his eyes on her mostly the entire time she did the same at her empty little area, watching as she tucked her purse under the desk for safekeeping and threw a couple tools he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her use onto the table. When she wandered off to the wall of shelves to retrieve her absolutely horrifying work of art, he finally gave her some privacy again. But he couldn’t help the fact that he’d been worried sick when she didn’t show up on time after he’d just seen her at the cafe, thinking something horrible could have happened to her between there and here.

So making sure she was unscathed before he, too, got his area organized was essential.

She sat in her chair and stared at what she had made the past three weeks. They’d started with something simple on the first day, taking a pre-cut slice of clay and free-handing a bowl with a few tips from Harry thrown in here and there. Then they jumped straight in after he showed them a few clips of sculptors working, pausing to explain specific things about creating a head and face. They were given everything they needed to make sculpting a complete figurine of a human body as easy as possible.

And still, she managed to create a combination of Shrek and the abominable snowman.

She huffed, wondering if she asked nicely enough Harry would let her just start all over. But before she could even think to do so, he clapped his hands together and got everyone’s attention for today’s mini-tutorial.

He explained smoothing to them and how there were many different ways of doing it so that your end results weren't littered in fingerprints. He reminded them to use water to smooth out the initial shapes of the clay they wanted and if they were having a really hard time with too much warmth from their fingers to use the gloves.

He ventured a little into detail work of the bust, showing a short clip of another artist forming collar bones with just two tools and her fingers. He explained what tools those were and why they were the most efficient for details and went on some more about other detail tools that were good for different things.

And the entire time she was far too lost in his voice and how his eyes lit up passionately when he rambled to even think about the fact that she wasn’t taking a single note for Rose’s sake.

They’d done a few lessons on details for the face, but they had yet to really get that far, only having put on tentative eyelids, lips and a nose for their heads before he really dove deep into details in what she assumed would be a full class later on.

And when he finally took a break to ask for any questions, she was, of course, the first to raise her hand. He thought about ignoring it, knowing all too well that anytime Y/N raised her hand in the back of his classroom, she was up to no good. But he was too nice to do that to anyone, even her.

So he called on her by nodding his head and she cleared her throat while he grimaced, expecting the worst.

“So, um, for example if we were going to do bigger details like abs on a male figure, what would be the best tool for that?”

He could have sworn he was having a heart attack. He had to blink a few times just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. She was actually asking him a legitimate question, and a good one at that. He had to repeat what she said in his head first, just to make sure it was real, before he answered, completely unprepared.

“Um… well after you lay out the clay where you want on the body, you can use one of the knives to blend the edges,” he held up an example of one for her, “and then a large ball or oval tool like this,” he held up another, “to smooth everything out. You’d probably want a more blunt pointed end to shape them, though, after you blend the clay in.”

She nodded like she’d been fully absorbing every single word coming out of his mouth and then he watched as she dug around quietly in the tool kit on her desk, in search of the types of tools he’d mentioned.

He could not fucking believe it though. She finally showed a stitch of interest in learning about sculpting. And he had no idea why she decided to right now. Maybe it was because she was without her partner in crime, but either way he was stunned. Absolutely fucking marveled.

After a few more questions and some demonstrations, he let everyone go and continue working on their projects while he circled the room as he normally did. And he found himself glancing at her from time to time, all by herself in the back with a genuine look of concentration on her face as she attempted making her creature a little less loch ness monster and a little more human.

Eventually, after he figured she was giving it enough effort for him to step in and help if she needed, he headed her way. And just as she sensed him walking down her aisle, while she was busy shaving off clay, a piece of it went flying into the air, completely out of control.

He stopped in his tracks after almost being smacked in the face with a chunk of clay and bent over to pick it up before someone squished it into the bottom of their shoes. He leaned over the edge of the table in front of her again, setting the piece of clay down next to her gently while she bit her lips between her teeth and tried to hide her embarrassed red cheeks behind her hands.

“Sorry!” She squealed at him, further digging herself into a hole.

He shook his head, “S’alright. Not the first time that’s happened.”

She laughed at the thought of him actually getting hit in the money maker with a hunk of clay and it eased her worries a little.

“So how are those abs going then?” He asked.

She stared at her sculpture for a moment before she sighed and turned it around to face him. It wasn’t as bad as it had been before, but it was still pretty rough.

“Mind if I…?” He held his hands out and she, without a single hesitation, handed it over to him.

He immediately grabbed the shaving tool she’d been using, and since it still sat next to her where she’d put it down moments ago, his fingers brushed against her hand when he picked it up. Sending every one of her nerves in the general area on a field day to mess with her nether regions again. It’s just… his fucking hands were an art form in and of themselves. His knuckles prominent, stretching soft skin around the bone. His veins protruding every time he made a more delicate move that required precision. Even the ones on his arms underneath the ink when he was a bit more rough with her sculpture sent her over the moon, while he shaved off bits and pieces with firm pressure to define the shape of the body and somehow create a human-like figure from her mess.

Then he started smoothing down the surface with a little water on his fingers and she went batshit. His hands while dry were one thing, but sparkling, wet, slippery fingertips? Lord have mercy.

She watched him spread a chunk of extra clay onto what would be the figure’s chest to build it up a little more with the knowledge of their previous conversations about dicks and abs making it clear she was attempting to make a male figure. She couldn’t help but watch his muscles flex underneath his tight white t-shirt. From far away across the cafe it had caught her attention. And now right here, she was definitely not letting it go unnoticed. It wasn’t too tight that he looked ridiculous, but just the right amount to show off every curve of his biceps and triceps and whatever other -ceps he had hiding underneath the shirt. He was normally in oversized tops so she was taking full advantage while she still had the chance to.

When he handed it back to her, it was like he’d done some kind of magic spell to get it to look so good after what she’d given him to work with. He leaned forward a little more and pointed at the figure’s chest and she was only halfway paying attention to him when he spoke, mostly focusing on how close he was and every single time he accidentally brushed his skin against hers.

“So if you want to make the abs,” he paused to glance over and dig through her pile of tools until he found the one he was looking for. “Use this to kind of sketch out the shape like we did with the faces,” he took the ball tool and rolled it down the middle of the chest, making a short indent to separate where the pectorals might be, “then you can add on the dimension like I was saying earlier.”

She took over the tool when he flipped it around and gave it to her so she could try for herself. And he watched for a short while as she did what he said to do, sketching out tentative abs, but not really knowing exactly what they looked like to come to any sort of realistic end. Her figure started to look like a shirtless Johnny Bravo.

He just giggled and pointed his stupid finger back into her personal space, smoothing down her mistakes until they disappeared, “Have you never seen a six-pack that wasn’t on a cartoon character?”

She racked her brain, trying to say something funny, but once she looked into his eyes, nothing came to mind. “Of course I have. I just don’t know how to make them look realistic.” She couldn’t exactly remember the last time she’d been faced with a naked man’s chest, but she had seen them before.

“Well…” Harry sighed, resting his head on his hand and staring at her sculpture sideways, “he doesn’t have to have abs.”

And then she said it. Something worse than her earlier set of words back at the cafe. She had no clue what was going on with her tonight, but she needed an ass-kicking for it.

“Do you have abs?”

“Me?” His eyes flickered up to hers in shock and it was far too late for her to backtrack, she was here and she had to face what she’d done. Even while he looked at her like she was fucking insane.

“Uh, well. I mean…” She had no fucking clue what she meant. And even if she did, she sure as shit wasn’t telling him.

Then it clicked in his brain. “You’re not using me as reference, are you?”

After a solid three seconds of just staring at him, she laughed. “No, of course not.”

“Hope so after you gave him that wonky penis.”

She sighed once they were through it. Once he’d proved, yet again, that he didn’t make her embarrassing statements feel as bad as they really were. He kind of just... went along with it.

But then she made it even worse.

“So yours isn’t wonky and crooked, then?”

Jesus, fuck Y/N just shut up.

His smile never faded, however, and instead, he leaned close again and whispered, “Maybe one day you’ll be lucky enough to find out.”

[good-old-kooks]

Hi, I spent the entirety of last night drawing an entire a4 page’s worth of shitty Spade King doodles and I’m going to make that everyone elses problem. Incoherent ramblings about the drawings (that aren’t on the image already) under the cut.

I think it’s VERY telling that, out of all of the kings, this asshole’s the one wearing the most black. Like, come on, he’s such a moody bitch, staring off of the balcony of his castle before his battle and shit. And having his tits out 24/7? Dumbest motherfucker alive.

Spade yelling. I like his teef :)

I can bet my ass the only reason he doesn’t swear in-game is because he’s trying to look all cool and dignified. He’s such a fucking tryhard it’s embarrassing. 

This man eats soap you can’t convince me otherwise. There’s legit reasoning behind this headcanon of mine but no one cares lmao, so all you need to know is that Spade and Lancer can both digest just about anything and soap is just Spade’s personal favourite.

Greedy bastard. Again, teef are mostly the reason I drew this one. Also please for the love of god ignore the shitty cape. I gave -5 shits about drawing his cape in the smaller sketches. Also yeah all of these are just coloured sketches, I swear I usually draw better than this.

HE LISTENS TO BOOMER MUSIC YOU CAN’T CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE. THIS IS SINGLEHANDEDLY THE BEST ART I’VE EVER DRAWN IN MY LIFE-

Anyway here’s human Spade. Both my sister and best friend said he looks ugly and I think that means I did my job REALLY well.

Oh yeah, I also have full personality headcanons for all the other kings, I just happen to like Spade the best. I like seeing just how much I can stretch and pull an expression for exaggeration purposes. Spade is really useful for that because he has a REALLY weird and specific design, so he’s easally recognizable.

Seam and Jevil cameos. Again, you can’t convince me that Spade ISN’T the “no fun allowed” king. Also I JUST realised I didn’t draw a Rouxls cameo on this entire page... Good.

What else is there to say? Other than the fact that the proportions on this are the worst I’ve ever done. I had to re-scale Lancer TWICE. And it STILL looks bad.

Yeah I don’t know the context for this one, I just thought it was a cool pose, and gave him something in-character to say along to that. I’m considering actually making this a Real Finished Drawing but god only knows how long THAT will take.

Bonus Lancer for your patience in reading through all this.

Also, shameless plug, I made a playlist of songs I associate with/are about the Spade King, it’s called the Spadelist. Right now there’s not much on it, other than remixes of his theme and some other metal songs and metal adjacent songs I think fit him. Check it out if you want, it’s only 21 songs thus far, but I plan to keep updating it.

[saventhhaven]

Jealousy

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Tags: jealous!Dean, flirting, irritated!Dean, frustrated!reader, awkward!Sam

Word Count: 1,340

(Gif not mine)

Dean pushed the door open enough for you to get in behind him but didn't bother to hold it for you. You sighed agitatedly, making sure it was locked before following him down the staircase. His stiff body language told you that he didn't want to talk about it anymore, but the way he almost hesitated in his quick strides made you believe otherwise.

"Dean, I already apologized like four times!" you exclaimed. "Even though I did nothing wrong!" you added as an afterthought. Sam looked up from his laptop in the library as the two of you came in, eyebrows raised in question.

"What's going on?" he asked. Dean shook his head as he shoved his hands into his jean pockets.

"Nothing." You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes. Of course. Leave it to Dean to take something that's bothering him, and shove it down so deep that it never sees the light of day again.

"I was getting information for a case, and your brother didn't like my methods, so now he's mad at me," you explained. Dean plastered on a half-smile, shaking his head for emphasis as he spoke.

"It's okay! I'm not mad!" The smile would have almost been convincing, to his credit, had it not been for the slight twitch developing under his right eye. You glanced over at Sam surreptitiously before leaning over ever so slightly.

"Is it just me, or does he seem mad to you?" you asked under your breath.

"Goddammit, I just said I'm not mad!" Dean snapped, causing you to jolt in surprise. Damn. It wasn't like you had been putting all of your efforts into keeping your voice down, but damn. Sam sighed, shutting his laptop and getting to his feet.

"Run me through what happened." God bless him. He was always trying to find some even ground. Dean cast a warning glance in your direction, again, wordlessly telling you that he didn't want to talk about it, but you ignored him, crossing your arms over your chest as you blew a strand of hair out of your face

"Dean got all upset," you started to explain, "because I was flirting with some guy to get information-"

"No, no, no, he wasn't just 'some guy,' okay?" Dean cut you off. "He was a total douchebag! I mean, what the hell was he wearing, anyway? Danny Zuko called, and he wants his outfit back." You shot Sam an incredulous look, who merely shrugged weakly back at you. He was actively trying to excuse himself from the room by taking small, hesitant steps away from the two of you. Apparently, even he sensed that Dean was being unreasonably... Dean about all of this.

"Did... did you just reference Grease?" Dean went red, a stark contrast to his bright green eyes, which were filled with a bit of embarrassment.

"No!" he exclaimed before sighing heavily. "Maybe! Look, all I'm sayin' is that no girl buys into that stupid playboy leather jacket look."

"Ha!" The laugh came from your mouth before you even realized it was you that had made the sound. That was rich, especially coming from Dean Winchester himself. You had vivid memories of him wearing a "stupid playboy leather jacket" when you first met him. "You mean like the one you wore for some three years back in '05?"

"Hey, I'm an exception! And I didn't act like a playboy!" Even Sam let out a snort at that one, and he was halfway across the room.

"Oh, really?" you fired back. "Because I seem to recall you profusely hitting on me when we first met." He spluttered a bit, and you used his temporary inability to summon comprehensible words to your advantage. "I really don't get why you're so upset! I was just looking for a lead like I always do. The person I was asking just happened to be a guy, and as a woman, I know what gets guys talking! There's nothing to be mad about here!" When Dean set his jaw in his telltale way, you braced yourself for whatever he was going to say next.

"I'm not mad, Y/N, I just brought it up as a general concern, and you're the one who started blowing it all out of proportion." And there it was.

"I’m the one blowing it out of proportion?" you nearly screeched. "When he offered to buy me a drink, you threatened to, and I'm quoting you here, 'turn his face inside-out.' What the hell does that even mean?" You glanced over your shoulder to get Sam's two cents on the situation, but he was gone. He must've finally slipped out when you weren't paying attention. With an exasperated huff of air, you turned your attention back to the older Winchester, whose lips had formed something between his signature delicious pout and a frown, the skin between his eyebrows slightly creased. "It was just for a case, Dean! That's all! It didn't mean anything!" He crossed his arms over his army green cotton t-shirt, taught over his freckle-sprinkled skin.

"Oh, I get it," Dean finally said with a wry look in his eyes. "You've got a thing for me." You felt your eyes go wide as saucers as you began to reel, taking a physical step back.

"What?" Where the hell did that come from?

"No, I get it," he repeated. "That's why you've spent the last half hour explaining yourself." You felt your lip curl back involuntarily.

"I don't owe you anything," you practically snarled. Dean nodded.

"I know that," he agreed innocently, all traces of his frustration suddenly gone. "I never said you did. So, if you don't mind my askin', why have you been so hell-bent on telling me that it didn't mean anything?" Now it was your turn to be trapped in stunned silence. "I'll tell you why," he continued, "you've got a thing for me."

You'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought about it. How could you not? After years of constantly being around him, it was practically impossible not to. Hell, you had even found yourself thinking of Sam a couple of times, but that was only when you had first met him, and it was never to the extent of how you used to think of Dean. Correction: how you still thought of Dean.

Chewing on your lip to the point that you were afraid it would start to bleed, you shook your head, acutely aware of the way your face had started to heat up.

"You're an ass," you informed him. As you went to leave him in the dust, his hand was on your wrist, whirling you back around and pulling you to him, making your heart stutter wildly in your chest.

Not even the most lucid of your daydreams could have compared to how it felt to have his perfect lips on yours. Dean kissed you with a softness that you had never seen from him before, a warmth that made your entire body tingle, and with a depth that no one had ever achieved before, and you immediately began to feel dizzy with it. One of his hands served to steady you, stationed on the small of your lower back, and the other rested against your face as his thumb brushed tenderly over the apple of your cheek. When his tongue brushed against your lower lip, you gasped softly, parting your lips to allow him access. Dean gave a soft growl that made butterflies erupt in your stomach, and he pulled you closer. If it was actually possible to get drunk on a kiss, you were certainly getting there.

When you were finally forced apart by the need to breathe, you kept your eyes closed, unwilling to let the moment come to an end.

"Don't worry, gorgeous," Dean murmured into your ear. 'The feeling's mutual." Much to your disappointment, he released you, giving your hand a small squeeze before he was out of your reach. Totally frozen in place, you watched him go. He paused in the archway of the library. "And by the way," he said over his shoulder. "I used to flirt with you so much because I've wanted to do that since the day that I met you."

Thanks for reading!

As always, links to my masterlist, taglist, and inbox (requests are open!) are in my bio! <3

My Everythings:

@cole-winchester​ @alexwinchester23​ @1-am-made-of-stardust�� @thorukindig​ @fiftyshadesoffandom6783​ @hobby27​ @supernaturalenchanted​ @organicpurplepants​ @odysseyofasiren​ @defenderrosetyler​ @crystal-lilac​ @youshrimpdickfucknugget​

Dean Darlings:

@calaofnoldor​ @transparentfestivaltiger

[too-scared-to-do-this]

Of the Devil’s head

Chapter twelve - Lose a piece of that non-heart 

Sander’s sides fanfiction

Wordcount: 1529

Ship: prinxiety  (Get ready people.)

TW: So, a bunch of kissing - though no shirtless people this time; a little bit of for-play (Can it be called for-play if nothing really happens?), hard teasing, flirting, very subtle mentions of cruelty and something resembling suicide, though it is not exactly that, cursing (a lot) and a bunch of light-hearted backstory angst because why not? Let me know if anything else pops up :3

Summary of the whole story: They say, the one that wears the crown rules all - the living, the dead, the walking, the crawling, the rooted, the sane and the mad. They say, once you own the crown, you become the  most powerful being on Earth and beyond. Roman’s stolen bigger things - a measly little crown won’t present a problem, even if he has to steel it straight off of the devils head!

----------------------------------

Chapter twelve - Lose a piece of that non-heart 

Roman often tends to forget what it is like to be happy. That one little feeling that grows inside your chest, suffocating you in the best way possible until you blow up, smiling and grinning (in his case talking and twirling around like a little princes).

It’s been so long since this feeling grew out of proportion. Since he wanted to jump around and talk someone’s ears of. Wanted to sing out loud.

But right now, no matter how Roman’s body would be reacting to this much happiness in any other situation, he just pulled the Devil closer to him, grinning into the kiss.

V smiled too, leaning his forehead against the thief’s. “You seem awfully happy.” he murmured, teasingly. As if the pink on his pail cheeks and the way his non-heart was beating didn’t imply the exact same thing.

He was awfully happy. And judging by the way Roman was literally vibrating, he was as well.

“I just kissed the man of my nightmares, who wouldn’t be?” Ro grinned even wider.

Virgil couldn’t help but snort, shaking his head against the being’s.

“What? It’s not like you didn’t get lucky! Just look at me!” Ro pulled away, with Virgil still on his lap, gesturing at himself.

“I don’t think emotionally fragile and easily breakable is a think you should be proud of.”

“Hey! I’ll let you know! I’m much tougher then you think! I might just be tougher than you!”

“Oh really.” Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Let’s put that to a test, shall we…?” the dark toothy grin wasn’t nearly enough to forebode the kings next actions.

Roman didn’t even have time to blink before he was laying once again. Hands above his head, pinned to the bed.

Something snaked up his leg, circling around his thigh. Too high, he might ad… This was dangerous. Very, very dangerous…

“Now you can show me how though you really are.” the Devil’s eyes darkened, clouds circling around like small tornados. “When someone’s holding you down…” he leaned in close. Close enough that he could feal his breath on his lips. “…pinning you…”

“… what will the though thief do?” he hummed. Deep voice resonating through Roman’s whole body.

“He… am….” the human gulped. He hated how clipped his voice came out.

But Hades, did Virgil love the flustered expression Roman was wearing. He could hear his heart beating faster then light, blood rushing in his wains. See his brain failing to function. Cheeks flushed and eyes unable to leave Virgil’s lips. Roman was completely gone. Melting underneath the Devil.

“He what?” V smirked, voice dark with lust. Tail tightening around Ro’s thigh.

Roman yelped.

A very high-pitched, very restrained, very embarrassing yelp. And Virgil couldn’t take it. He fell back onto the thief’s thighs, tail uncurling, hand’s letting go, howling with laughter.

And Roman just laid there, a giant emotional mess watching the Devil with big round eyes.

“Oh Hades! Lord of the darkness! I can’t, I’m sorry.” the king stuttered out through laughter. “Don’t take it too seriously. I was just having some fun.”

“We’ll if this is the kind of fun you like to have…” the thief blinked, barely breathing.

But Virgil didn’t even hear him through the laughter. He just leaned down and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “You’re adorable when flustered, liveling.”

“Yeah yeah.” Ro rolled his eye, trying to collect his thoughts. He cleared his throat and took in the whole of his supposed captor. Apparently that thing that abused his thigh earlier was a long thin tail, similar to the wings he saw earlier. Huh… interesting.

But didn’t the Devil say- “Where are your horns?”

“What?” Virgil wiped of a tear, trying his best to calm down.

“Your horns. You said ‘tails and horns and everything’. Where are the horns?”

“Ah well… Their here.”

And suddenly, Roman was looking at two small horns poking out of V’s scalp. Barely visible from the hair. “Oh, dear Gods! They are so small!”

“Oh shut up.”

“No! You’ve got small little hornies!”

“Do you even hear yourself?”

“They suit your personality so much! Small and adorable! I just -”

Virgil sighed defeated. “Apparently not…”

His fun has ended…

-

Nobody knows how long the two didn’t come out of that room.

Well… nobody except Remi. He’s been lounging around the throne room for Hades-knows-how-long, sipping at his delicious coffee.

Souls, no souls, he wouldn’t have been working even if Virgil was around. But he wasn’t. He was off with that boy-toy off his doing dark-knows-what.

If you’d ask Remi, the king went soft. But he never really was tough to begin with…

All those years ago, when they used to go down to earth and do crazy shit nobody even dared to think of! That was the shit! Them - the duo. Tearing people in half and making buildings crumble and burn. But thinking back, even Remi knew it wasn’t Virgil’s free will talking. The former prince always looked back at the damage they caused with a sad look in his eyes. Guilt.

No, it was not him. It was Lucifer.

The former Devil was the truest meaning of the word. Remi hasn’t been here long enough to get to know him, but the twelve or so years spent with him in charge were enough. Abusive, power-hungry, mad. Nothing was ever enough for that creature.

Not his wife, Remi never got to meet. Not his son, who grew up to be too weak for the kings liking. Not Hell itself.

Remi wasn’t blind. Nor was he stupid. Lazy and bitchy, maybe, but those were his best traits! Besides for the obvious great fashion sense and awesome personality. But he was a mind reader for fuck’s sake. And Virgil’s thoughts weren’t exactly quiet.

Safe to say it was best for everyone involved when Lucifer got banned from Hell. Well, not exactly from it - they were demons, but not even they were cruel enough to unleash such a monster to the upper world. He got sent to the deepest darkest pit of Hell where no server had acces to. Not even the prince himself.

And after the immediate coronation of Virgil, the power the former Devil once had now belonged to V. Who never used it, unless necessary.

So yeah… maybe Remi did miss those times when Virgie was more fun, but he sure as Hell didn’t miss those thoughts of his swirling around in both of their heads.

Now at least it was mostly quiet.

The Devil seemed happy. Unusually so. Remi even got his fucking coffee! Who would’ve though?

He chewed on the straw of his almost empty drink. No matter what, the king was the king. And right now, he was locked away somewhere with his little Human doing dark-knows what. And Hell, if Remi wasn’t curious as to what it was!

And what it really was, was nothing.

V laid in his bed with his head on Romans chest, completely oblivious to the outside world. This was their bubble - their safe place.  Nobody could walk in without permission and nobody could take Roman away either.

He wouldn’t let them.

Maybe not that. But Virgil knew Ro would have to leave at some point. He couldn’t stay... Though he’d rather not think about that just yet.

Instead, he looked up at his liveling and watched him. Listened to the steady beet of his heart. Who knew it would be a Human thief that would end up owning his?

Hair still damp from the shower he took earlier. Eyes closed. Smiling.

Yeah… Virgil was a lucky son of a Devil. And nobody could deny that.

Father wouldn’t have approved, but mom… Mom would have loved Roman.

She herself has fallen for a mortal. Which ended up being her downfall. But she never regretted. She never coward.

Not once.

“Don’t be afraid love. It doesn’t hurt.” she said.

“But I am afraid, mommy…”

“Don’t be, my dark angel. I am not afraid.”

“How?”

“Because, when you love somebody enough, you’re not afraid to give up anything.”

Now, Virgil knew this was faulty logic. If she loved her son as much as she said she did, why didn’t she give up dying on the account of her supposed love? And why did she need to give up anything at all?

If she loved someone, shouldn’t they be kind and understanding enough to at least come to a compromise? Find some way for his mommy not to have to die?

The mortal probably was dead by now, forgetting all about his beloved mother the moment she stepped out of their life. But she didn’t…

It was faulty logic. Very stupid and faulty logic.

But somewhere deep down, he understood her…

She did love him. More then anything in the whole universe. But sometimes love isn’t enough.

And so, she perished. Erased herself from existence without a single tear ruining her perfect face. And a beautiful smile.

That’s what Virgil remembers. That smile.

And as he looked up at Roman, he saw the same one. Same peaceful, astonishing small smile lingering on the lips he was kissing just a moment ago.

So, he kissed them again. And let the realization of what he was about to do next swallow him whole.

----------------------------------

I don’t feel like this chapter is very consistent... But oh well. I refuse to sit on it any longer. I have a last chapter to write!

Not that I want to end this story, but I have such a juicy ending prepared I just can’t wait to write it!! ^^

Anyhow, this was a little bit of backstory before the actual end. Roman already had his, so now it was time for V’s. And that brings us to the last chapter coming soon. 

Also some more art because I feel like drawing V and all his forms. Ya know, all the forms of evil :3.

Okay XD It’s late and I’m just spewing out words now. 

As always, hope you liked the chapter! <3

Tag list:

@romano-hottopic

@vpow

@a-formless-entity

@lovelivingmydreams

@alice-only-me

[3rachabffs]

not a date (maybe a date) ➺ zhang yixing

◦ pairings: yixing x reader 

◦ word count: 2.6k

◦ prompt: parent!au + meet messy, exes + “you have the emotional capacity of a brick.”

◦ description: when sehun tells you that he convinced his friend to babysit your daughter for you, you can't say that you're thrilled. most of sehun’s friends are exactly like him—partiers, irresponsible, so on and so forth. but meeting said friend puts all your worries to rest.

◦ a/n: cross-posted on ao3

“I can babysit.”

“Sehun, you have the emotional capacity of a brick.”

You say that lovingly, of course. Sehun is your best friend and has been since you two were snot-nosed toddlers fighting over who gets to go down the slide first. The only thing that has ever changed in your relationship is that now the two of you fight over who gets to write what editorials for the magazine you work at.

However, you loving him doesn’t change the fact that he’s a semi-irresponsible partier who drinks from dusk until dawn and has no problem with speaking whatever is on his mind, even if it means hurting people’s feelings. As an adult, you can appreciate those traits (to an extent), but imagining him taking care of a child, especially your child… Well, there would be lots of crying and screaming. And that’s only taking Sehun’s reaction into consideration.

“You know,” he replies, “I would take great offense to that if you weren’t one hundred percent correct.”

Sehun spins around in his desk chair and takes a sip of coffee (it’s only 10 AM and he’s already on his third cup, trying to fight the hangover) before promptly turning back around and wiggling his perfectly sculpted eyebrows at you. “I have an idea.”

“Should I be scared?”

“No, no. Of course not.” He pauses, and then sighs. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what? I’m not giving you a look.”

“Yes, you definitely are. You’re giving me your “Sehun is stupid and I’m not gonna go along with anything he says” look.”

“This is just my face!”

“No, your eyes are deader than usual.”

“Ha-ha.”

“Just trust me, will you?” And with that Sehun gets up from his chair, smooths out the wrinkles from his suit, and begins to head towards the elevators.

You slowly spin in your own chair to follow his path as he walks, arms crossed disapprovingly across your chest. “And where are you going?”

“To talk to a friend of mine in Art Media. I’ll be right back, babe.”

You can't help but roll your eyes at his antics. You thought he would stop with the pet names after the HR violation but once the higher-ups found out that the two of you weren't dating and Sehun was very much gay, everyone seemed to stop caring about it (including whoever reported the situation in the first place).

Turning back to your desk, you continue typing up the editorial you were working on prior to the whole "need-a-babysitter" fiasco. You're still not quite sure what you're going to do—maybe you should just cancel the cooking class—but that's an issue you can focus on during your lunch break.

Sehun doesn't come back until you're already printing what you wrote so that you can run it upstairs to your editor. You raise an eyebrow at the mischievous smirk on his face.

“What did you do?”

"I got a babysitter for you."

Alarm bells begin to go off in your head immediately. Sehun said the person he was going to talk to was a friend and all the friends you've ever met of his have been exactly like him—partiers, irresponsible, so on and so forth.

Getting out of your chair, you grab Sehun's hand and pull him towards the break room. He follows quietly, but only until the two of you are a safe distance away from the rest of your coworkers. Once you're behind closed doors, however, he pulls his hand away and gives you one of his signature looks, the—

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I appreciate you trying so hard to get a babysitter for me but, Sehun, come on! I've never even met this guy, how am I supposed to trust him with my child?"

"Well, he—"

"Is he one of your clubbing friends? One of the ones you stay out with until 4 am? Oh my god, he's not the friend who drove you home drunk one night, right? Look, I'll find my own sitter, okay? Thanks for trying but you can tell your friend no thanks."

"Or you can."

You practically jump out of your skin at the new voice that interrupts your (one-sided) conversation with Sehun. Leaning against the doorframe is one of the most attractive men you've ever seen, what with his dark, slicked-back hair and proportions that could rival those of a male model.

"I-I'm sorry?" you stutter. "What did you say?"

Sehun claps, looking all too happy for the situation at hand. "Y/N, I'd like to introduce you to Yixing, the friend I was talking about. I brought him with me because I know you would want to meet him."

You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping that in the next two seconds you'll magically be teleported anywhere other than here. But alas, you are not Dorothy with her magic red heels. So, you decide to be a responsible adult and apologize.

"Yixing, I am so, so sorry for anything you might have overheard. It's just... when it comes to Naeun, I'm so protective."

Yixing, bless his heart, smiles at you and alleviates all of your worries. "Hey, it's alright. I'm the same with my kid, too." The surprise must be written all over your face because he continues, "I'm guessing you didn't expect Sehun to have friends—other than you—that have kids."

"Honestly? I didn't. He's kinda stuck with me since we grew up together, after all."

"Well, let me shock you some more. Another friend of ours, Jongdae, also has a kid."

Turning to Sehun, you cross your arms. "You never thought to introduce me to these friends of yours? People that I could relate to?"

Sehun just shrugs. "Not really."

You roll your eyes. "And that's why I never expect anything from you."

"I like not being held to expectations."

Yixing laughs, amused by your bickering. "Not to interrupt but, Y/N, now that you know I'm not one of his quote-unquote clubbing friends, do you trust me to take care of Naeun? I figured it would be nice for her and my daughter to hang out with one another since they're around the same age."

You take a moment to think but, honestly, it's just for show. In the few minutes you've spent with him, you can tell that he's trustworthy enough to take care of your daughter. "That sounds lovely. What time's your lunch? Maybe we can meet and discuss this further."

"I usually take lunch at 2, but I can fit my schedule with yours. I'm the Art Director so I don't think anyone will fight me on it."

Your jaw drops. "Oh my god, you're the Art Director? I'm sorry, I had no idea."

"It's fine, I don't expect people who aren't in the same department as me to know who I am."

"Right, of course not, I was just surprised.” You give Sehun a look, signaling to him that you want to discuss how he’s friends with the Art Director at a later point. Then, you continue, “Anyways, my lunch is at 1:30, so if that's good for you we can meet then."

"Perfect, I'll meet you in the cafe." With that, he claps Sehun on the shoulder and takes his leave.

Now alone, Sehun focuses all of his attention on you. "Oh, a lunch date, hm? Spicy."

"Sp... Spicy?" You fumble over the word, flabbergasted. "No, no, no, no. Not spicy. It's basically a business meeting. I'm just gonna learn a bit about him, tell him what he needs to know in order to babysit, and let him know what time I'll drop Naeun at his house. That's all."

"I don't know, it kinda sounds like a date to me," Sehun teases.

"In what world does that sound like a date?" Huffing, you push past him and head back to your desk. "Whatever, I need to get my editorial to Minseok. Bug off."

"Y/N and Yixing sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N—"

You hit Sehun on the head using your printed editorial, shushing him. "We're not in kindergarten anymore, Sehun! That's enough, I'm leaving."

"Alright, you minx. Go."

Getting into the elevator, you yell, "I'm not a minx!"

You're instantly swarmed with feelings of regret at your outburst when all of your coworkers turn to look at you and couldn't be more thankful when the elevator doors close.

"So, Naeun is four, right?" Yixing asks.

You take a moment to swallow the bit of sandwich you were chewing before responding. "That's right. And your daughter, Hana, is the same age?

"That's right." Yixing digs into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and takes out his wallet. It only takes him a second for him to locate her picture and hand it to you. "That's her, on her birthday this year."

The girl looks exactly like him, dimples and all. Her hair is a bit lighter though, which you assume is a trait she acquired from her mother.

"If you don't mind me asking, is Hana's mother still in the picture?"

Yixing sighs as he gingerly puts the picture back into his wallet. "No, she's not. She decided that being a mom wasn't her calling and decided to chase her passions in Rome or something like that."

"Oh, wow. I'm sorry. That's... wow."

Yixing chuckles, running a hand through his hair and messing it up just enough that a few strands fall perfectly against his forehead. "It's alright. Based on how she acted during the pregnancy, I was expecting the worst. Plus I wouldn't really want her in Hana's life anyway."

"It doesn't sound like you really liked her that much, if I’m being candid."

"No, I guess it doesn't."

The conversation dies down for a few moments as you both take some time to actually eat your lunch. The silence is a comfortable one, which you appreciate. It’s not common for you to feel so at ease with a person you’ve just met.

Yixing starts talking again abruptly. "I think I did love Chengxiao when I was with her. Or at least I believed I did."

You look at him with your cheeks puffed out, mid-bite. You had thought it was a sensitive topic and didn't expect him to continue. Yixing takes one look at you and smiles, handing you a napkin. You take it despite the embarrassed blush on your cheeks. The way he looked at you... It was almost fond. You quickly cast that thought aside, however. Surely you're reading too deeply into things because you’re attracted to him.

"When I met Chengxiao, I was young. 22. I was just starting out at the company and I was so overwhelmed. I was looking for someone to distract me, and she was that person.  We dated on and off for months and things got more serious when she got pregnant.

“My parents suggested I marry her, but she didn't want that and honestly, I wasn't sure I did either. I loved her for what she did for me, though. And even more so now that, because of her, I have Hana.

“But she was a wildcard, always looking for her next adventure. It's why I didn't expect her to stay after the pregnancy, but I'm not upset that she left. I don't think she would have loved our daughter the way she deserves to be loved."

Yixing stops, giving you a bashful look. "I'm sorry, you didn't ask for my life story."

You shake your head vehemently, not wanting him to feel like he overstepped by sharing so much with you. "No, no, it's perfectly alright! I'm glad you were comfortable enough to share something like that with me. It really speaks towards your character."

He raises an eyebrow. "Oh? And what does it say about me?"

"Well..." You pause, wondering where to begin. "It says that you're an incredible father. You care so much about your daughter and obviously put so much thought and care into anything that involves her. It also says that you're kind, almost to a fault. This woman, Chengxiao, she left you. Yet, you're still thankful to her and hold no animosity towards her. I find that to be very admirable."

By the time you're done, you're sure that your face is as red as an apple. Yixing has been paying you rapt attention, staring at you the entire time you spoke. It’s as if everything you had to say was of great importance to him.

Breaking out into a beautiful, dimpled smile, he thanks you. "I'm honored you seem to think of me so highly already. I hope I don't blow it on our next date."

"Our next date...?" Your heart soars.

He nods. "I'd really like to see you again. And not just when you drop Naeun off later."

"I'd really love that."

"What would you think about getting dinner on Friday night? You, me, and the kids."

The fact that he was willing to include Naeun and Hana on your first real date has you beaming. "That sounds perfect. More than perfect."

"I'm so glad."

On that note, Yixing gets up, smoothing out any wrinkles from his suit before throwing out his trash in a nearby garbage. You follow suit and he waits for you inside the elevator, foot holding the door. He presses the buttons for your floors—8 and 11, respectively. A few seconds pass—floor 1, floor 2—when suddenly he turns to you, grabbing you by the waist.

"Can I kiss you?"

You let your body answer for you, capturing his lips with your own. His touch is electric, sending a tingle down your spine. You get so lost in his touch that you don't notice another person getting on the elevator until they clear their throat.

You and Yixing pull away from each other immediately. Flushed and breathing heavily, you share a guilty look, akin to two teenagers who were caught making out underneath the bleachers. The woman who entered the elevator just laughs and shakes her head, before exiting on floor 6.

Soon enough, you arrive to your floor and bid Yixing goodbye.

"See you tonight at 8."

"See you then. I can't wait to meet Naeun."

The doors close, taking Yixing away. You have a strong urge to act like the dramatic lead in a teen romance movie and lean against them so you can slide to the ground in a lovesick daze. But you're not in a movie, you are an adult in your workplace. So, you smooth down your skirt and march over to your desk confidently, ready to tackle the rest of the work you have for the day. No matter how cute Yixing is, you won't let him hinder your performance.

Sehun eyes you as you approach and pounces the second you take a seat. "Tell me everything. I know something happened, you're practically glowing."

You keep your lips shut tight, not wanting to play into his antics. He gasps, taking your silence as an answer in itself. "You two didn't hook up in a storage room or something, did you? That'd be amazing."

Glaring at him, you respond, "No, we didn't." You turn back to your computer, ready to continue your work, but you can feel his stare boring into your side. With a sigh, you concede. "We did kiss in the elevator, though."

"Oh my god, yes! I should become a matchmaker or something, I swear."

You roll your eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Get back to work, slacker."

"Just say thank you."

There are a few colorful words you’d like to say that certainly aren’t even close to being thank you, but you bite your tongue.  "Alright. Thank you."

"I better be your best man at the wedding."

"Oh, Sehun, shut up!"

[cake-in-a-tin]

Spin the bottle and the Awkwardness after pt. 2

Part 2 to this  Sirius sat on the Hogwart's express trying desperately (and failing) not to stare at Remus. He'd thought last term that Remus was good looking, but now? God, his hair was cut so Sirius could see his amber eyes and long lashes (why did he find Remus' eyelashes so hot? What was wrong with him?), and the scar running through his eyebrow. He also looked like he'd been working out, or something along those lines. Whatever it was, Remus was filling out the red t-shirt he was wearing much more than he had been doing last time Sirius saw him, and he looked much more in proportion to his height.

Right now, Remus was distracting Sirius by reading his book. Yes, that's right, simply the fact that Rekus was looking concentratedly at his book, chewing his lip absent-mindedly was causing Sirius to be extremely distracted. He was trying to have a conversation with James but couldnt help staring at Remus, and being reminded of their two kisses at the end of the previous year.

Over the summer, before he had gone to stay with James, in between mealtimes, visits to the park near Grimmauld Place to hang out with the muggles from the local area (something he knew his parents would disapprove of, but did anyway for the thrill ), and letters  from James and Peter, Sirius spent a lot of his tume trying to write  a letter to Remus, before groaning in frustration  and throwing the scrunched up parchment into the fire. Some of his rejected letters looked as follows:

Dear Remus,

Hope you’re having a lovely summer. Mine’s been pretty bloody awful, but that’s not the point.

The point is that we really did snog, didn’t we? And it was good

(”Ew no, that sounds creepy.”)

Hi Moony,

How are you doing? Been gallivanting in the Welsh hills at all recently?

Just wondering if you liked me, like, liked  me. It certainly seemed like you did when we snogged last term. Well, I like you if that’s any reassurance.

(”Aahhh! That’s just weird. Pull yourself together Sirius.”)

By the time Sirius had come up with anything half decent to send to Remus, it had been far too long since they’d seen each other, and snogged each other Sirius would always add in his mind, for it to mean anything. Hadn’t it? Sirius reckoned if Remus thought anything of it he would have written over the summer, so maybe the fact he had kissed Sirius with what had felt like actual feeling was just due to the fact he was drunk and a good kisser No, Sirius, you are not going to relive that second kiss yet another time in your mind... 

Still, the fact that Remus had not written or shown any time of attraction since then was not stopping Sirius from getting mightily distracted by the fact Remus was now tugging at one of his golden brown curls, his freckled, scarred cheeks flushed slightly from the heat of the train and his bottom lip captured between his teeth, brow furrowed in concentration. Sirius wished it was his lip that was captured by Remus’ teeth. Nope. Not a good thought to be having, not PG in the slightest. Oh God, stop thinking about it Sirius.

Trying to distract himself from the fact he now very much wanted to snog Remus completely senseless and bury his hands in the other boy’s curls, Sirius tried to focus on James telling himself and Peter about his week after the two of them had left his house (they had stayed for just over a week with James, but Remus had been staying with his grandparents in Wales so couldn't make it. Sirius reckoned news that this was a good thing, because he had been in Remus’ presence barely two hours and could hardly concentrate). He just about managed to keep his eyes on James as he told him about how he had been out for lunch with his favourite aunt, Andromeda.

““Free day tomorrow, isn’t it?” Peter asked, slightly out of the blue, as he sometimes did.

“Yeah I think so...” James met eyes with Sirius, looked pointedly at Remus who was still decidedly engrossed in his book, and back at Sirius, with a questioning look in his eyes that said “spoken to him yet?” Sirius made the hand signal that they had created in first year, along with a few others, that meant “tell you later.” James nodded, then said, to fill the silence he had created by trailing off, ““I wonder if they’ll be letting us go into Hogsmeade?”

““That would be good. My mum asked me to buy some stationery and other rubbish when I next go down. She says there are no quills like the ones from Hogsmeade...” Peter mused.

The rest of the train journey lasted in very much the same manner. James and Peter holding most of the conversation, Remus reading his book, only stopping to have the occasional bite of chocolate and to chat with Lily when she stopped by their compartment, and Sirius staring at Remus, restraining himself from pushing the werewolf against the wall and snogging them until they were both breathless, When they finally got up to the castle, James pulled Sirius aside rather roughly by the side of his robes.

“Ow, piss off James, what the fuck?”

“Shut up you’re fine. Now, what is going on between you and Moony? Have you even spoken to him since you both kissed so passionately?” He wiggled his eyebrows at Sirius she snorted and turned slightly red.

“No, I have not spoken to him,” James rolled his eyes, “but he hasn’t spoken to me either!”

““Come on Padfoot. You really think Remus, Moony, who hates even asking questions in class for fear of annoying the teachers, all of whom love him dearly, that Remus is going to go out on a limb and tell you how he feels about you?”

“I-”

“Yeah, that’s right.” James was looking at him with a slightly stern expression on his face which made Sirius feel both like he was in trouble, and a wave of appreciation towards his friend. ““What are you gonna do about it then Padfoot?”

“I dunno. Talk to himI guess?”

“Oh! I know. Tomorrow I’ll go with Pete to Hogsmeade, I saw a sign over there saying we can go, and leave you and Remus the dorm to yourselves.”

“Okay. I have zero clues what I’m gonna say though.” James smiled at Sirius.

““You’ll figure it out.”

Sirius was so preoccupied about what on Earth he was meant to say to Remus the following morning, he barely payed attention to the sorting and Dumbledore’s speech at all, and hardly ate anything. Before he knew it they were up in their dorm and the lights were out, and Sirius was surrounvddd by the other Marauders’ deep breathing as they slept. He stared up at the scarlet canopy above his head and felt his mind wandering back to the party at the end of last term for what was like the thousandth time.

***

He was just a little bit tipsy when James had beckoned him over from where he had been dancing with Marlene and Dorcas. James has waved an empty firewhiskey bottle in his face, which confused him. Wow, it’s an empty bottle James. I want a full one dude. 

“Spin the bottle.” James sang. Sirius felt his eyes widen - this was one of the reasons he loved parties. ““But-” James was still speaking (that was what he always seemed to be doing, especially at the wrong times), “with a twist.” Now Sirius was really interested.

“What kind of twist?”

“Well, I was reading this really obscure charms book, and I was messing around, and I’m pretty sure that the charm I’ve put on this bottle means that it will land on whoever the spinner is most attracted to.”

“James, you amazing man. I am forever in your debt.”

“Pads, you’ve been in my debt pretty much since we met.”

“True, true, but now I can see if Moony likes me back!”

““Exactly. And I can kiss Lily!”

And the , of course, Sirius’ spin had landed on Remus, as expected and what Sirius had been hoping for happened. Remus’ spin landed on him. And... well, it was pretty obvious why very soon afterwards.

***

The morning cane much too soon for Sirius’ personal preference. Could Dumbledore not put a spell on everything that meant mornings lasted about two hours more! Alas, James and Peter were locked in a fierce game of something that seemed to consist of throwing balled up socks at one another. Whatever it was, it was extremely loud and had rudely awoken Sirius and, from the muffled stream of swear words coming from his bed, Remus as well.

“Well,” James announced as he and Peter finally ended their ferocious battle, ““Pete and I are off to Hogsmeade. I assume we’ll see you two down there at some point.”

““Yeah, at some sensible time not fucking three am or whatever it is right now.”

“Ah, good ,o ring to you as well dear Moony.” And with that and a wink at Sirius, James and Peter left the dormitory, discussing something to do with quidditch Sirius thought.

It was weirdly quiet now that the other two had left, and Sirius supposed he should probably have that conversation he’d promised James he’d have. Remus has drawn the curtain of his beam and Sirius was impressed at his ability to act casual when he turned around to face the other boy, as in reality he was going just a little crazy at the sight of Remus just woken up. His eyes were half closed, those freaking eyelashes resting on his cheeks, and his hair messy from sleep.

““Hey, Remus?” Sirius guessed he should probably just go for it.

“Mmhm?”

“Um... we should probably talk.” Remus’ eyes shot open at this, and met Sirius’.

“About last term?”

“Yeah...” Sirius fiddled with his duvet to give his hands something to do.

“I-”

“So-”

They both started talking at the same time.

“Shall I go first? Remus offered. Sirius nodded, grateful to be able to see what Remus had to say before he completely embarrassed himself, as he had warrant to do with feelings.

““I just wanted to say I’m sorry.” Remus was blushing, “I git a bit carried away, I think, because I’ve been wanting to kiss you for ages but I know you don’t feel the same way, God, why am I saying this? You go before I say anything else awful.”

Sirius was in shock. Remus had wanted to kiss him? He kind of knew, because of James’ charm, but it could have been faulty, so it was a relief to hear it from Remus himself.

“Remus, you idiot, of course I wanted to kiss you.”

“What?”

“Yeah. The bottle was charmed to land on who you’re most attracted to.”

“Oh. Oh.”

“Yeah. I wanted to kiss you then, and basically all of yesterday. I want to kiss you now Remus.” Remus stood up and slowly stepped over to Sirius’ bed, as he also stood up to meet him.

“Really?”

“God, yes.”

Then Remus’ hands were cupping Sirius’ face, and he was leaning in and pressing his lips to Sirius’. Sirius kissed him back immediately, hard. He had been thinking about this while doing nothing for way too long now. He threaded one of this hands through Remus’ honey brown curls, and put the other one on the small of his lack, pressing closer, and making the most of finally getting to kiss the other boy. Remus was putting a hand on Sirius’ neck and the other plan was still on his cheek. Their mouths were slightly open and they were so close to each other closet than Sirius ever thighs they’d be. Finally, after what felt like years but at the same time not long enough at all they pulled away, if only a few inches. Remus’ forehead was resting on Sirius’ and they were both breathing in sync.

“Why didn’t we do that sooner?” Remus asked.

“I have no idea.” Sirius stood in tiptoes slightly to press another, shift kiss to Remus’ lips, which he returned.

““Remus?”

““Yeah?”

““Would you like to be my boyfriend?” Sirius beamed, lost in the soft expression in Remus’ eyes.

““Why of course. That would be lovely.”

“Well, we should probably catch up with the other two then.”

Remus kissed Sirius again softly and sighed.

“Yeah, I suppose. This is to be continued though.”

Needless to say, when Sirius and Remus walked into the Three Broomsticks hand in hand, grinning, James was extremely excited. Peter had an expression that read ‘‘of course” on his face, and Remus and Sirius just looked at each other, grinned and shared a quick kiss, happy to be able to do so without needing an excuse.

[onthepyre]

cats

the second part of this is basically what i did last night but connor is a lot braver than me. anyway.

Evan does this at least once a week.

He gets home, and for whatever reason, whether it be the smile Connor gave him during lunch that lasted a bit too long or that romantic-looking restaurant he walked by on the way home, he's feeling sappy.  And he walks straight to his room, lays down on the floor, and listens to Cavetown.

The amount of time Evan spends on the floor is directly proportional to how many times he caught Connor looking at him during science class. Sometimes he counts; the record so far is 23 times in one class period. He spent two hours on the floor that day, staring at the ceiling.  

As soon as he's home, he's settled on his carpet with the soft sounds of a guitar playing in his headphones.  It's peaceful, quiet. There are only a few things that Evan thinks about, and number one on his list is how much better it would be if Connor was here.

His heart talks about Connor a lot.  His mind objects, but Evan's heart seems to beat with his name.  Connor Murphy Connor Murphy Connor Murphy.  Evan never gets tired of it.  His heart talks about Connor's hair, his eyes, his smile, his hands-

Don't get him started on Connor's hands.

Evan has watched Connor draw before.  The style of his art matches him well.  It's sharp, fast, messy, perfect. But when he's drawing, Evan watches Connor's hands rather than the piece. 

They're fluid.  They glide.

Connor Murphy does not glide.  He stomps, he runs, he marches, but he does not glide.  But when he's drawing, his hands float. They look the same, as angular as Connor himself, but they're different.  Softer. Evan figures Connor's face is the same, but he's always been too focused to look.

Evan often considers what Connor's hands feel like.  They look strong, but Evan is certain they're lighter than they seem.  He wonders what it would be like to hold Connor's hand. Is he one of those people that would hang on too tight?  Would he barely touch Evan's hand? Would he be grossed out by Evan's sweaty palms?

Evan also, more tentatively, thinks about Connor's hands on his face.  In his hair. Looped around his waist. These thoughts, of course, are more focused on where Connor's mouth would be at the moment, but there is attention to his hands then, too.

And Connor's mouth.  Of course. His lips are always chapped and often bleeding because Connor picks at them when he gets bored and Evan knows this because he stares at Connor during French class and he knows Connor hates French.  Connor bites his lips a lot, too. It isn't meant to be nearly as swoon-worthy as it makes Evan feel, but it nearly breaks him every time Connor chews on his lip. Evan's fairly certain this is something he does when he's bored, too, although it might be a nervous habit.

Connor has a lot of nervous habits, from what Evan's seen.  He spins his pen, taps his foot, braids little strands of his hair — the list goes on.  Evan knows each and every one of them.

—— 

Connor has his own sort of ritual.  After begging Zoe to stop at Tim Hortons so they could get coffee, he sits at the window in the den and watches Law & Order SVU.  He had never seen it until Zoe showed him the John Mulaney bit about Ice-T and now he's addicted. It's a problem.

Unbeknownst to either, Connor's SVU marathons are the equivalent of Evan's Cavetown sessions.  Evan thinks about Connor and Connor thinks about Ice-T. And Evan. Mostly Evan. 

Connor has a thing for the way Evan talks.  He knows that Evan himself hates it and most of the school thinks he's annoying, but Connor thinks it's adorable.

Evan has to say exactly what he wants to say, and if he messes it up, he will start over.  He messes up a lot.  It doesn't help that sometimes his tongue catches on words and he gets stuck on a certain sound and has to go back to the beginning of the sentence.  It takes active listening to understand what he's saying but it makes Connor melt.

That's the thing that makes Connor think so hard.  He's supposed to be the mopey badass, the scary emo, the aloof rebel-without-a-cause.  He has a reputation to uphold, even if it's less punk and more school shooter (okay, less punk and more sad).  He may be openly bisexual, yes, but he shouldn't be falling for a tiny tree-obsessed nerd.  

And the fact that Evan of all people is the one his heart decided on is, well, bad.  Connor's too worried that Evan isn't into him to do anything other than stare and Evan can't take a fucking hint.  Connor may think his cluelessness is cute, but it's also really inconvenient.  Connor thinks a lot of things about Evan are cute but inconvenient.

Evan is really, really good at accidentally blocking people's paths and then moving out of the way at the same time the other person does, thus blocking them again.  Evan hates it and Connor thinks it's funny. If it goes on for long enough, Evan starts blushing, and Connor starts falling apart.

And oh my god, when Evan blushes.  It's not like it's uncommon, Evan is both awkward and incredibly aware of it, but Connor still thinks it's adorable.  It brings out his freckles and colors the tops of his ears pink. If Evan is especially embarrassed, he'll try to hide in his hands, but his fingertips are always tinged with the same rose-colored mortification. 

Connor's thoughts drift as he pulls out his phone and scrolls through instagram, but Evan is still there in the back of his mind.  He's always there, no matter what Connor is doing. He spots Evan in the shadows created by the trees in the backyard; sees Evan's worried smile on his mother's face; catches himself doodling Evan's silhouette in the background of drawings. Evan, Evan, Evan.

Connor's phone buzzes in his hand as he scrolls past a collection of Bee Movie memes.  He opens the message, noting it's from Evan.

hhey

He's still typing, but Connor replies anyway.

whats up

The typing bubble disappears for a moment, then pops back up

what r u duing

Connor takes a moment to grin at the misspelling before he responds.

watching svu

do u eanna come see cats with ne 

uhh?? no but absolutely yes im coming, what time

theres a show jn half an hour 

cool see you then

Connor tucks his phone into his pocket and pulls his hands through his hair.  He's going on a date. With Evan. But it's not a date, his mind says.  Connor ignores it.

He's out the door in no time, stopping only to grab a half-eaten bag of twix and shove it in the pocket of his hoodie.  

——

Evan arrives at the theater before Connor does, and sits down next to a claw machine after buying his ticket.  He thinks about texting Connor, but his energy for starting conversations is nearly gone — he barely stuttered his way through asking for a medium popcorn, so he's decided to recharge for a bit while he waits for Connor.

Connor bursts through the door a few minutes later, then stops to look around.  He breaks into a smile when he spots Evan, who lifts his hand in a tired wave. Evan watches Connor talk to the woman at the ticket booth, then the man at the concession stand.  He approaches Evan with a bag of Sprees in his hand.  

"Hey," he says.

"Hi."

"I know Sprees are the worst, but they're the only food that seems to last past the previews, so."  Evan nods, trying to hide the already partially eaten bag of popcorn sitting next to him. "Well, shall we?" Connor reaches down to pull Evan up from the bench.  Evan smiles as thanks, but Connor doesn't let go of his hand. His mind moves at the speed of light, even though there are only two thoughts in his head: Connor Connor Connor and hand.

Connor holds onto him all the way to the screening room, where he tugs Evan into the back row.  He drops Evan's hand as they sit. Connor drops the Sprees into the cupholder on his left and pulls out the Twix, which he starts inhaling immediately.

When the movie starts, there's only one other person in the room: an old man in the front row, who Connor insists is Andrew Lloyd Webber himself, and it's not an issue if they talk because Webber started this whole fiasco and deserves to hear their "critiques."  

The moment the first cat appears on the screen, Connor is laughing.  "Why does she have boobs?" he whispers.  

"Connor!" 

"If they're going to give her boobs, she should have six, not two."

"Connor, talk quieter!"

"Are we supposed to be attracted to the cats?"

Defeated, Evan drops his face into his hands while Connor cackles next to him.  

They make it to Rum-Tum-Tugger without any other mishaps, but as soon as the new cat starts singing, Connor loses it again.  

"Why is he wearing a fur coat?  That's terrifying!"

"What?" 

"You'd be scared if you saw someone wearing a coat made of skin."  Evan looks over at him with a desperate expression on his face.

"Connor, please," he begs, "let's just… let's appreciate cat Jason Derulo."

Connor nods, still wheezing, and calms down a bit.  Until cat Jason Derulo whips off his fur coat in a display of his cat muscles.

Connor drops his head onto Evan's shoulder.  "I can't do this," he says through a fit of giggles.  

But Evan is more focused on the fact that Connor's head is on his shoulder oh my god.  And Evan hears Connor's foot tap, tap, tapping on the floor.  Nervous habit. And once again, Connor's hand finds his. 

"Gotta ground myself.  Make sure we're not dead, y'know."  So Evan, with as much bravery as he can muster, squeezes Connor's hand.  And Connor squeezes back.

But Connor doesn't move.  He stays there, his head on Evan's shoulder, his hand in Evan's hand.  And Evan can't focus on the movie anymore. He eventually picks his head up to laugh at Mr. Mistoffelees, but Connor hangs onto Evan's hand for the rest of the movie.  He's soft, softer than Evan expected, and evidently doesn't mind his sweaty palms, so Evan doesn't complain.

As the credits roll, Evan gathers the bits of courage he has left and look over at Connor.  "Is, uh, was this, like a date? Or did I, um, completely misinterpret what's- did I misunderstand this? B-because-"

Connor cuts him off.  "Do you want this to be a date?" He's quiet, much quieter than normal.

Evan's voice is even smaller when he answers.  "Um. Yeah." He stares down at his free hand, trying to avoid the one Connor still has a firm grip on.

"Great.  Then it was a date."  Evan can hear the smile in Connor's voice.  He looks up, and Connor is beaming, and Evan can hear his foot tapping the floor again.  And Connor's hand is on his jaw and Evan is leaning forward and their lips are pressed together.

It's different than Evan had imagined.  Slower. Gentler. But he's kissing Connor Murphy and Connor Murphy is kissing him back.

Evan is the first to pull away.  He knows his face is a bright shade of pink, but he doesn't really care.  His phone buzzes in his pocket.

"Oh, uh, my mom's here."  He thinks he sees Connor's face fall for half a second, but he isn't sure. 

"Oh.  Alright.  See you soon."  

Evan leans over and pecks his cheek.  "Thanks."

[johnlockfeelz]

Encounters

Okay so this is my first attempt at writing a one shot, and posting it. I’m only posting it cause my friend @realrandomposts told me I should. Sorry in advance for this cringe fest you’re bout to go on!

Stiles Stilinksi knew he was gay when he was fifteen years old. Fawning over the most popular girl in school, before suddenly finding himself VERY interested in one of the lacrosse players put that into perspective rather quickly. He and his best friend Scott talked things out and came to the conclusion that Lydia was merely a crush, not even a serious one at that, whereas his crush on Danny was extremely persistent and serious.

Being gay wasn’t that hard for Stiles. Despite living in a small town, everyone was surprisingly supportive of his sexuality, especially the people that truly mattered to him, like his father and friends (Danny not so much, but only because he got annoyed with Stiles’ terrible attempts to flirt with him pretty quickly.)

Stiles worked in the local Clifton’s, which was basically Beacon Hills’ version of a Walmart, albeit a little smaller. Still had the same functions however. Stiles himself worked in the Apparel department, a department usually designated for females but Stiles supposes to the managers, a gay male is basically the same thing. Assholes.

Stiles was actually having an okay shift that day, for once. No customers being rude, not being overloaded on returns from the customer service desk, that he had to retag and fold and put back in its place.

The day went south, when he saw him. Coming in early that afternoon to start his shift, he’d just clocked in and was headed to the swinging double doors that led out to merchandise floor when what Stiles could only deduce was a god walked by him. The man had to be at least 6”2’, and a wall of pure muscle, topped with short, gorgeous dark black hair that Stiles instantly wanted to run his fingers through.

He was on his phone as he passed Stiles, so he didn’t see his eye color, but man did Stiles want to suddenly know everything about this guy. Of course, he wouldn’t though. You see Stiles is a very awkward twenty year old young man, he never grew out of that phase in his teenage years, so if Stiles found someone attractive, he made sure that said person would NEVER hear from him so that he couldn’t embarrass himself in front of them.

His method, however sad and pitiful, was working well for him until about an hour before the end of his shift that night.

Every other Apparel associate, including one of his best friends Lydia, had already left for the night. He was the only one that was scheduled to 11pm that night. He was in the women’s athletics department, fixing a rack of sports shorts, when he saw a shadow out of his left peripheral. He looked up just in case it was a customer that he had to smile politely at, and made direct eye contact with the god from the back room this afternoon. Now meeting his eyes, Stiles could see that they were a hypnotic chocolate brown that Stiles felt he could just drown in.

Upon realizing that he’d actually looked into the most attractive person he’s ever seen eyes, Stiles’ instantly widened and dropped back down to the rack he was working on, barely scraping his view across the name tag on the man’s chest that read ‘Derek’, before he fixed one last hanger and instantly flew back to the fitting room to finish cleaning the rooms, not noticing how Derek’s eyes stayed on Stiles’ figure until he disappeared around the corner.

Any day Stiles worked following that mishap, he made absolutely sure that Derek was no where to be found. He didn’t want to accidentally see him again and end up embarrassing himself in front of that beautiful man by being his awkward self, as that’s all Stiles knows how to do.

Lydia thought the situation was hilarious. “Stiles, it’s just a guy! You don’t have to avoid him like the plague.” Lydia laughed two weeks later, as she leaned against the fitting room stall, staring at Stiles on the other side as he put the phone he’d just answered back in this cradle.

“You don’t understand, Lydia!” Stiles moaned, resting his head in his hands. “I made eye contact with him! DIRECT eye contact! It should be obvious why I can never let him see me again.”

“But it’s not.” Lydia shrugged. “So what? You looked a hot guy in the eyes, it’s not like you murdered his family.”

“That’s precisely why I can’t ever let him see me again. I looked him in the eyes. A man like that, you don’t just MEET his eyes without permission. You just don’t, Lydia! He’s godly, you don’t look gods in the face and get away with it! What if he’s offended now?”

Lydia rolled her eyes, fiddling with her name badge. “Honestly Stiles, you’re thinking too much into it. You’re blowing things out of proportion.”

“Maybe I am.” Stiles responded. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop avoiding him. It’s not that hard, either. I only see him like three times a week. He’s a fresh CAP2 associate, I never deal with CAP associates.”

“Whatever.” She shook her head. “I’m headed back to the men’s basics. Jennifer wants that entire section zoned and the deeper I go into it the more I want to kill myself.”

“Wait, real quick!” Stiles called out after her, pulling the fitting room keys off his forearm and the walkie talkie out of his back pocket. “It’s time for my break, can you watch fitting room until. I get back?”

Lydia held her hand out, catching the keys as he tossed them to her, instructing him to leave the walkie in the fitting room stall.

Stiles pulled his phone out the minute he got to the break room, sitting down at an empty table. He didn’t notice the tall dark and handsome guy he’d been avoiding for weeks sitting at a table a few feet away, with a dark haired beauty right beside him. The girl followed Derek’s gaze to the brown haired little twink looking boy playing on his phone. The woman met Derek’s eyes before she motioned for him to leave, getting up and walking to Stiles’ table, plopping herself down beside him.

Stiles started as someone randomly sat down with him. He usually sat by himself, as the only person who worked at Clifton’s that he actually spoke to was Lydia, and they rarely had breaks or lunch together.

“Hi.” The woman smiled at him, making him a little uneasy. This was a woman who looked like she could easily snap his neck with one hand, and laugh as she did it. In short, she looked dangerous. “I’m Cora.”

“Nice to meet you.” Stiles said politely, setting his phone down. It’s rude to talk to someone while you’re on your phone. “My name’s Stiles.”

“Weird name.” Cora replied, popping a bubblegum bubble in his face.”

“Not as weird as my actual name. Stiles in a nickname.” he shrugged.

“Wanna be friends?” Cora asked, glancing over his shoulder as Derek slowly made his way out of the break room, stopping only to glance at the two of them curiously, trying to figure out what the hell Cora was planning.

“I mean, I doubt you’d wanna be friends with little ole me but I guess I can’t tell you no. You look like the type that wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Cora smiled that sickly sweet, deadly (at least in Stiles’ opinion) smile again. “No, no I don’t.” she chuckled.

And that was how Stiles found most of his shifts passing by after that. Cora seemed to hunt Stiles down, just to talk to him and learn more about him. He learned more about her too. He found out her last name is Hale, and she was twenty-two years old. She was from a very large family, including a sister and a brother. She worked in the pharmacy department, but was friends with a lot of CAP2 associates and spent most of her time with them.

She learned everything there was to know about Stiles. His family and friends, his age, his history, and (most importantly to her plan), his sexuality.

“You’re gay?” Cora asked about three weeks after introducing herself to him. They were both coming back from lunch, and were headed into the back room to clock in.

“Well, yeah. I figured that was obvious. Most everyone can tell just from looking at me.” he replied, gesturing to his skinny, pale body covered in freckles. Cora smiles a secretive smile. Oh this is going perfectly well.

“How long have you known you’re gay?” she asked, leading the way past the double doors.

“Since I was-“ Stiles’ eyes widened, and he instantly ducked around the corner to the stock room, dragging Cora with him.

“Shit! What the fuck Stiles!” Cora hissed. Stiles shushed her, peeking around the corner to make sure Derek was out of sight.

“I’ve been avoiding this guy that works in Fresh CAP2 for like a month now, I’ve gotta make sure he doesn’t see me.” Stiles explained as he made sure the coast was clear and came out of his hiding spot.

“Fresh CAP....” she muttered, her eyes widening as she theorized, “Is his name Derek, by chance?”

Stiles side-eyed her as he swiped his name badge and hit the clock in button. “Yeah, you know him? Super tall, always looks broody, godly-looks.” Stiles sighed wistfully. “God, what I wouldn’t give to be his bottom.”

Cora wrinkled her nose up in disgust at his last comment, before clocking in herself. She didn’t need to know about Stiles’ fantasies about her brother. Not that he KNEW that was her brother, of course, but she still didn’t wanna hear about it.

“Wait wait wait.” What Stiles had said suddenly clicked in her brain. “If you have a crush on him, WHY are you avoiding him?”

Stiles scoffed. “I do not have a crush on him. I just think he’s very attractive. And domineering. And heaven sent. And-“ Stiles caught the look she was giving him and threw his hands up in defeat. “Okay so maybe I have a little crush on him. It’s very little though! But like, a month ago, I made eye contact with him and I’ve made sure to avoid him seeing me since.”

Cora didn’t bother to hide her confusion. “Why would you avoid him just because you guys made eye contact?” She didn’t understand honestly. What was the big deal?

Stiles bit his lip. “You see....I am a very awkward person, I’m sure you’ve discovered this by now. And I’m not really a very popular person either, or liked honestly.” Stiles bent his head down in shame. “What I’m trying to say is, I’m not worthy of his attention. Not like someone that looks like THAT would ever be interested in someone that looks like me. I know I’m extremely plain-looking. I just don’t want to get hurt by trying to talk to him, or anything and risk embarrassing myself in front of him. And I’m sure he doesn’t want some annoying ass kid bothering him either. I know I’m a bother, everyone tells me that often. I just don’t want HIM to hate me for bothering him, you know?”

If Cora wasn’t such a heartless person, she’d be heartbroken listening to Stiles rant about his worthlessness and being undeserving of an attractive person’s attention. Did he not know that Derek was crazy about him, and has been hurting for quite a bit of time, because of Stiles’ avoidance of him? Derek has ranted and raved to Cora more than once about the cute little apparel associate that stole his heart and has run like a bat out of hell at the sight of him since.

That was why she had befriended Stiles in the first place. She was determined to get to the bottom of Stiles’ apparent hate of her brother, because it hurt her to see her brother so sad over his crush hating him and wanting nothing to do with him.

“And what would you do, if that wasn’t the case?” Cora asked carefully. “What if he was interested in you?”

Stiles laughed humorlessly. “Yeah, right Cora. That’s never going to happen. And I’ve got to get back to the fitting room. I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

She nodded in response, watching as the object of Derek’s affection jogged away so as not to get yelled at about being late by his friend Lydia.

That boy sure has a lot of self-deprecation. She thought to herself as she walked out to the produce section in search of her older brother. Maybe a nice loving boyfriend can help fix that. Once I fix this situation they’re in.

Later that night, his shift coming to a close, Stiles was almost done cleaning out the fitting rooms and locking the doors when he heard a throat clearing from the associate’s stall. “Give me just a sec, and I’ll be right with you!” He called over his shoulder, sweeping the dust off the floor into the dustpan and dumping it. He wiped his hands on his pants before turning to face the front of the stalls, ready to assist what he assumed was a customer.

His mouth went dry as he came face to face with the man he’d been avoiding for over a month. “Oh! Hi there. I-I think I hear someone calling my name so im just gonna go that way and never grace your sightagainokaybye!” Stiles spluttered, turning and getting ready to run from this situation of his own making.

“Wait!” Derek called out quickly, skirting around the stall and grabbing Stiles’ wrist before the younger man could get too far. “Why are you avoiding me.”

Stiles froze, so not ready for the Adonis to actually speak to him, let alone confront him about him dodging him. Maybe he doesn’t like being ignored? Yeah that’s gotta be it, he doesn’t like being ignored, therefore Stiles offended him.

“Ah, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you! I just didn’t think you’d want me to be anywhere near you after what I did.” he explained softly, trying to make his self seem as little as possible so as not to set Derek off and possibly make him even more upset.

Derek nearly growled in frustration, running a hand through his short hair. “What you did-Stiles, all you did was look at me! That doesn’t warrant suddenly treating me like I have contagious disease or something.”

Stiles blinked at him owlishly. “How do you know my name?” He wondered aloud. Derek sucked in a breath, almost lying and telling him he read his name badge, before hesitantly deciding to tell the truth. Might as well get the truth out there first.

“Cora.” he confessed.

“Cora?” Stiles echoed. “Has Cora been talking about me? I swear whatever she says isn’t true!”

Derek chuckled, slightly loosening his grip on Stiles’ wrist. “Cora’s my sister, Stiles. She’s heard me talking about the adorable Fitting Room Associate that seemingly hates me, and she took it into her own hands to find out why my crush was acting like I was gum on the bottom of his shoe.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Your crush?” Stiles questioned.

Derek smiles shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yes, my crush. I’ve been trying to work up the courage to talk to you for a while now, but then out of nowhere you just started avoiding me. It hurt, you know. And Cora, she’s helpful when she wants to be. So she made it her personal goal to get you to talk to me. She just told me today, why you’ve been doing it. And I wanted to tell you, you don’t have to. I’m not mad, I’m not upset, nothing. I just really want to get to know you better, and possibly have a relationship with you. I really like you Stiles, and I want a shot with you.”

Stiles felt his heart clench in his chest at the thought of his sadness. He didn’t know that he was hurting Derek the more he avoided him. That thought had never crossed his mind.

He slowly reached out and laid his hand on Derek’s that was still holding his arm. “I’m sorry Derek, I didn’t know you actually knew who I was, let alone enough for me to upset you by avoiding you. How can I make it up to you?”

The older man’s whole being seemed to glow with happiness at Stiles’ words. “How about this Friday, if we’re both off, we go to Rudy’s?” Derek asked, his tone very audibly hopeful.

Stiles’ own smile widened at seeing Derek so happy. “It’s a date.” he said slyly, meeting Derek’s beautiful brown eyes.

Looks like Stiles had his very first date coming up soon. And with a hot guy no less. He couldn’t wait to tell Lydia about this.

[mewhenleg]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀssᴀɢᴇ

(ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛ)

sʜɪᴘ:

sᴘɪᴅᴇʏᴘᴏᴏʟ

ғᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ:

ᴍᴀʀᴠᴇʟ / ᴀᴠᴇɴɢᴇʀs

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ:

ɪ ᴛʀɪᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ɢɪᴠᴇ ɪᴛ ᴀ ʙɪᴛ ᴏғ ᴀɴ ᴇɴᴇᴍɪᴇs ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀs ᴋɪɴᴅᴀ ʙᴀᴄᴋsᴛᴏʀʏ ᴛʜɪɴɢ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴅʀᴋ ɪғ ɪᴛ ᴡᴏʀᴋᴇᴅ ʟᴍᴀᴏ

ᴀʟsᴏ ᴘᴇᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴀʙᴏᴠᴇ 17 ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ sᴛᴏʀɪᴇs, ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ʜɪᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴇɢᴀʟ ᴀɢᴇ ᴏғ ᴄᴏɴsᴇɴᴛ ɪɴ ɴʏᴄ. ᴡᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ɢʟᴏʀɪғʏ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ ᴘʀᴇᴅᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏʀ ʀᴀᴘᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs:

sᴍᴜᴛ (18+)

ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ: @goshdangitjay (ᴀʟʟ ᴍʏ ᴀᴠᴇɴɢᴇʀs sᴛᴏʀɪᴇs ᴀʀᴇ ᴏɴ ʜᴇʀᴇ)

Wade woke up to a strange rippling feeling in his lower back, and - like a normal person - shifted around to see what it was, only for great waves of pain to sweep his body with every shuffle of his muscles. It must've been from whatever stupid shit he was doing yesterday, and a surprisingly loud, annoyed huff shoved past his lips at the thought. He tried to move and found that even turning over made the pain worsen. He had no choice but to call for his roommates.

"Steeeeve!" He yelled, not that he really needed to. They all slept in the same room, thanks to there only being 3 bunk beds left for the older students. Steve popped his head down from his bunk, groaning.

"Whaaaat?" He replied in the same whine that Wade had used a moment ago. He scowled.

"I can't move. My back feels like it's broken." He grumbled.

"What happened?" Steve asked, his way of showing that he cared. Steve had always cared for him, always the kind one of their little group. Even though Wade was a dick.

"Y'know when I was out at the gym the other day? Well, my stupid self thought it would be a good idea to lift more than I could and- OUCH!" He yelled as Steve dropped down and poked his back. Wade scowled but was unable to attack Steve, since that would require moving.

"Oh you really are hurt." Steve said, putting his hands on his hips. "Okay, how does a massage sound? I know someone who gives great ones." Steve states proudly, a smile on his face. Wade would've shrugged if it didn't make pain spike his whole body. In all honesty, he knew about Steve's habits of trying to fix situations, and it usually ended up with the while thing being blown out of proportion and made into one giant mess. But Wade really didn't have an option right now, if the life-shortening pain spiking through him was anything to go by.

"Sure. Just get them here quick, I've got a game tonight." He said, his words laced with the same annoyed groan he'd used earlier. Steve nodded and swiftly left the room to go get whoever it was that would be giving him a massage.

Truth be told, Wade wasn't all that sold on the idea of another person touching him, what with his general self esteem problems. Despite what people told him about his supposed good looks, he just couldn't quite see it. He was just about to call Steve and tell him not to bother, when the door cracked open. Steve's hands were on his hips and he donned a triumphant grin.

"Ta-da!" He exclaimed, and that was when he noticed Peter shuffle out from behind him. Peter's face was almost instantly swallowed with horror, and Wade groaned. Of all the people, Steve just had to get that little fucker to give him a motherfucking massage. Peter looked like he might run away, but stepped into the room despite himself. He was holding a small box with what looked like a whole cabinet of different oils fitted into a tiny plastic space.

"Steve-" He started.

"Don't even think about complaining! Do you know how much effort it took to get this little guy away from his fanclub?" Not really a question. Wade only groaned again and turned his head away.

"I- I can leave, if you want." Came Peter's shaky voice, which he'd take over the insults they usually flung at eachother. Steve immediately cut in.

"No no no, I spent my time getting you over here, and you're gonna fix Wade before he turns to dust or some shit. Now don't let the big guy fool you, he's a puppy really." Then Steve left and shut the door, which conveniently locked from the outside. So now they were stuck in a room. Together.

Peter cleared his throat and shuffled forwards, dropping to the floor and opening up his little box.

"I'm not doing this." Wade muttered, but when he tried to move away, he cried out in pain. Peter frowned.

"We're locked in here, Wade. And don't even try to tell me it's not that bad, because - clearly - it is." He said, and Wade finally turned to look at him. Peter's eyes were glazed with nerves, and he was wringing his hands together in his lap. He stopped as soon as Wade's eyes dipped to them.

"Are you- um, are you wearing anything already?" Peter asked quietly, and Wade shook his head.

"Only boxers, but wouldn't you have loved me to be naked, hm?" He teased. Why the fuck had he said that? It had always been scathing insults and little fights that made them hate eachother and now he was... flirting with him? He didn't know if he could even call it that, but Peter's face was now flushed with colour. Wade rolled his eyes.

"Just get on with it." He muttered, almost shivering as Peter pulled down the covers to just above his waist. The small boy grabbed a yellowish oil that he quickly identified as eucalyptus and poured a little onto Wade's back. His hands were surprisingly strong; firm but soft as he glided them over his back, working on his tight and knotted muscles. Wade bit down on his lip to keep from making any noises he'd regret before Peter had even really started. The boy's voice was soft and soothing as he spoke,

"Where does the pain start?" He asked, and Wade mumbled something along the lines of "pretty low", which made Peter very, very nervous. He dragged a hand along his spine and said, "Tell me where it hurts."

Peter's hand stopped at the hem of his boxers and Wade let out a gruff noise. It hurt like a bitch. "There." He muttered roughly, straining to keep from crying out at the slight pressure. He froze for a moment when Peter silently slid his fingers just past the waistline of his boxers - god his fingers were so soft -, then tried to shift away as quickly as possible; only to cry out at the shattering pain. Peter instantly withdrew his hands.

"What the everloving fuck was that?!" Wade demanded, and looked to Peter expectantly, whose face was bright red.

"You- you said it was painful there so I had to- to get a little lower and..." Peter trailed off, wringing his hands together. The boy looked down at his lap and Wade suddenly felt a little sorry for lashing out when he was just trying to help.

"It's okay, Pete. Just... do what you have to." He said, watching as Peter paused, then nodded and set back to his job of easing the tension in Wade's back. Wade looked away from the boy, facing the wall as Peter continued to kneed his back until he relaxed against his touch. He felt Peter's hands lowering towards his boxers again and stifled a cry of pain, forcing himself not to leap away from the touch.

"I'm gonna need to um... take them off." Peter mumbled. Wade heard every word with painful clarity, and gave a small dip of his chin as his only sign of confirmation. Peter hooked his fingers under the hem of his boxers and slid them down enough that he'd be able to ease the pain in his back. He tried not to let his eyes dip any further than where he needed them to be.

Peter had to admit that it was difficult to work when he was at the side of the bed, and a bunk bed at that. Wade had given him the all clear to do what he needed to do... so Peter gave him a little warning before climbing up onto the bed and sitting on the back of Wade's muscled thighs. Wade gave a cry of surprise and tried to wriggle away, but Peter held him down.

"I can't reach from on the floor, and if you move too much you'll make it worse. I- I promise I won't look." He mumbled the last bit.

"Right- just don't get any ideas." Wade returned, not managing to catch the breathy noise that passed his lips when Peter put his hands on him again, starting from the top of his back in an attempt to relax him while also being on top of him.

This wasn't gonna be as easy as he thought.

Peter silently worked on a particularly knotted part of Wade's lower back, his hands kneading and smoothing the tension with leisurely strokes. A half-grunt came from Wade, followed by a slight shift of his hips - which very nearly made him jump in surprise - and for a moment Wade thought he'd imagined the tiny whimper that came from Peter because of it. He hoped he had, because if he hadn't imagined it then that meant he wasn't the only one being... affected by this. It was easy, albeit a bit embarrassing, if only one of them reacted to whatever was happening, but both of them...? That meant that it was real. Meant that it had to be talked about, and Wade had never been one for talking.

Luckily, neither of them spoke and Peter just continued working down his back, eventually getting lower as Wade relaxed again, and maybe arched against his touch. Maybe. Wade stifled another small noise when Peter reached the most painful part of his back, holding back a shiver when he added a little more oil.

"I'm gonna start going a little harder now, okay?" He warned Wade, and he nodded. He had to bite down on his knuckle to keep from groaning in pain, but it didn't stop the small hiss that passed his lips. Peter's hands instantly felt the tiniest bit gentler, more soothing than they had been as he coaxed the knots out of Wade's back. Enough that it felt almost... pleasant. He didn't remove his finger from between his teeth, almost afraid he'd make a noise that showed Peter just how pleasant he was finding it.

Wade shuffled back a little bit, the mattress underneath him digging into his chest, and discovered something he really didn't want to. Peter was hard, and with his ass pressed against him, it was a wonder he hadn't noticed before. He ignored it, ignored his own hardness too, and spared Peter the embarrassment. But as the boy's hands travelled lower and lower, practically kneading his ass by now, Wade couldn't stifle a long, drawn out groan that definitely had nothing to do with the fact that he was now pain-free.

Peter audibly gulped and Wade tried to shuffle away yet again, only to hear the smaller boy let out a breathy gasp as he moved against his hard member. Wade froze and slowly turned his head to Peter, whose hand was clamped firmly over his traitorous mouth. Wade blinked once, twice, before flipping them over so that Peter was under him, shoving his hand over his mouth to stifle the yelp the boy gave out. His mouth twitched into a smirk as he dropped his lips to Peter's ear.

"I could feel you earlier, baby boy~" He purred, his hand slipping down to cup Peter's erection. The boy only shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut as if it would all go away.

"I thought you wanted me to touch you, don't you?" His voice was still low and sensuous, but a note of seriousness laced his voice-- he needed to hear Peter say he wanted it.

"I- I didn't mean to- to r-react like that-" Peter started, his face bright red and eyes still tight shut. Wade gently slipped a hand under Peter's chin and tilted his head towards him, leaning down so their noses were practically touching.

"Oh, baby boy I'm just as hard as you are right now~" Wade crooned, his hand cupping Peter's red face. He watched the boy squint his eyes open, his face flushed a deep shade of crimson, and smirked at him before capturing his lips in a tangle of tongues and teeth. He felt some sort of satisfaction when Peter melted into him and kissed back with a strange sort of ferocity. He growled onto his lips and shoved their bodies closer together, another feral sound escaping him as Peter shyly ground his hips upwards.

"You like me on top of you, baby boy~?" Wade asked, almost teasingly, earning a slap on the arm from Peter despite his almost imperceptible nod. Wade made quick work of slipping Peter's pants and boxers off, already naked from the massage Peter had been giving him. He grinned down at Peter - his Peter - and practically crawled downwards to take his cock into his mouth. Peter hissed and gripped the sheets as Wade did expert things with his tongue, stroking and swirling with it as he bobbed his head up and down.

"Stop- stop that, Wade- Just- just f-fuck me- god-" Peter begged, his beautifully long legs hooking around Wade's waist as he went upwards to again capture Peter's mouth, his fingers dancing and flicking over his entrance. Peter tugged on his hair in protest, breaking the kiss.

"Don't tease, Wade- fuck me, please-" He again begged, his legs tightening around his waist to try and get Wade to fuck him senseless like he so desperately wanted him to.

"Don't you need prep, baby boy~?" He asked carefully, his fingers drawing circles around his nipples, his ribs, his stomach. Peter shook his head and brought him closer.

"No more questions, just fuck me." Peter said, clawing at his back already to try and get him to move. Wade looked slightly concerned, but who was he to deny Peter anything?

"This is gonna hurt, baby~" He mumbled onto Peter's skin as he pressed his cock against the boy's entrance, already seeing that just the head made Peter wince and bury his hands in the sheets, but the smaller boy gave a nod and Wade pushed in all the way in as quick a motion as he could make it, sparing Peter a continuous amount of pain. Peter was already panting and making small grunts and groans at the feel of Wade stretching and filling him, so much pain and pleasure arguing in his head - an argument that pain was currently winning, despite Peter's need for the man to just fuck him already. He pressed his hips back against wade and started fucking himself against his cock in a silent plea, but Wade just watched.

"Look at you, baby boy, so eager to be fucked you don't even need me to move~ you gonna keep fucking yourself against me till you cum, hm?" Wade thrusted once - a slow, hard movement - in time with Peter and smirked when the boy let out a cry of pleasure. He stilled and watched as Peter kept fucking himself on him, his face screwed up in what he could only assume was a mix of soreness and utter bliss, hands balled into fists on the sheets, his lips red and swollen from Wade's brutal kissing. It was a sight he could very quickly get used to.

"Good boy, Peter~" he praised before grabbing his hips to stop him and slamming into him, a chorus of load moans and half-screams meeting his ears in a wonderful melody that Wade wished he could play on repeat. Peter wrapped one of his own hands around his cock and stroked himself, unaware if how Wade desperately wanted to make this last as long as possible- make it so that he never had to have 'the talk' with Peter afterwards, or be rejected entirely by the sweet boy.

"Oh my god- Wade- gonna-" Peter cut himself off with a loud moan as Wade rammed into his prostate at full force.

"You gonna cum, baby? Okay, do it. Daddy says you can~" Wade murmured that last part in Peter's ear, a smirk gracing his features when the younger boy came with an ear-shattering cry, a plea of "daddy" on his lips making Wade finish in his ass with a long groan. He rode out his high with slow, powerful thrusts that Peter could only answer with tired moans.

He practically collapsed next to Peter and tugged him on top of his chest, his powerful arms wrapping around the boy's slender middle. "You sure liked that, huh, Petey~" Wade crooned into his ear, sending all the blood rushing to his face as he batted his arm with a hand.

"I just hope Steve was out." Peter said perhaps a little too loudly.

"I CERTAINLY FUCKING WASN'T!!"

[sirro85-blog]

Dark Horses: 1

Humans are unusual, in most other races the classification of attractiveness is simple. In the Flet it was size, the larger males and females were deemed more desirable. Amongst the Rhul the more colourful the skin the more attractive the potential mate, I could go on. With humans however it appears to be personal choice or perhaps I should say preference as humans don't get to choose who they find attractive.

Captain Becca was drawn to, in her words, "muscle bound dickheads" while Knickers preferred men who were less heavily muscled but extremely well groomed and Barbie preferred what she referred to as "pretty boys".

These three women were themselves all considered attractive but were physically all different (note that they were all of white European descent so their appearance was not as varied as humans can be) Becca was tall and had a slender build beneath her muscled frame. The two Cassidies Knickers and Barbie were very different in appearance. Knickers was slim and lightly built with delicate features; Barbie was named for her appearance, full figured with almost impossible proportions she was named for the old child's toy she so resembled.

Most fascinating to me was the response these physical appearances drew from others.

The soft "tock" "crack" of a snooker cue knocking two balls together was the background noise of the conversation as Becca watched Knickers clean up the table.

"I dunno, he's really handsome Knix but do you really want a guy that takes longer to get ready than you do?" They were discussing the liaison they were meeting with, one that Knickers had expressed appreciation of.

"Well now I know why Kovac always looks so rough, he's only got the time it takes for you to apply that one brand of eyeliner and put on some heels," laughed Barbie.

"Yeah but at least with Kovac, you know he can go all night," said Knickers in a knowing voice.

"How would you know?" Snapped Becca a little defensive.

"Oh not first hand but you forget I used to share a wall with Kovac, boy has stamina," Knickers and Barbie laughed at Becca's face.

"Well, you're not wrong," the Captain admitted grudgingly.

"At least you two get some eye candy, you don't see many of my type out here," Barbie said sulkily.

"We'll be back in Pelcar-3 soon enough and we'll all have something to look at," Becca said.

"Speaking of eye-candy, Bex somthin' for you to enjoy," Knickers said nodding to the bar.

Looking up Becca saw what Knickers was talking about, 12 soldiers of the Earth Defence Corps had just walked in.

"To look at maybe, I prefer my meatheads to be able to think...well now I do."

"No danger of that with this lot, they're not just EDC they're marines" muttered Barbie, she looked nervous.

The Earth Defence Corps was a partly private enterprise set up on earth when certain individuals and countries rejected the decision by the UN to entrust their military power to the Galactic Council. The EDC were founded to defend earth but since their inception has started to be used for "furthering the human cause" this usually meant trouble was close behind. Worst of all were the EDC marines the shocktroops of the corps, they viewed themselves as highly trained elites but most former UN troops called them "cannon fodder" and spoke of them with derision.

"That's game," said Knickers.

"That's me v Barbie to see who sucks more," said Becca.

"We all know that's your title sweet," said Barbie a little nastily.

"Being good at snooker is a legacy of a misspent youth," replied Becca haughtily.

"Right and we all know you spent your teenage years flat on your back with your ankles on your forehead." Knickers heckled, Barbie laughed so hard she spilled her drink.

Becca pouted and then glanced at the EDC soldiers, "where's Kovac and Wolf?"

"Relax Kovac won't let Wolf start a bar fight, he's responsible remember," Barbie said gesturing two tables over where the two men also played snooker.

"Sure, sober Kovac is responsible but let's not forget Bottle-of-Rum-Kovac is a mischievous deviant who takes great delight in upsetting people like local security forces, the Galactic Defence Air Command and the Korlax Dominion." Becca cautioned.

"True, Fun-Kovac would definitely enjoy embarrassing the EDC," Knickers agreed.

"You shouldn't call it Fun-Kovac, maybe Troubl-" Becca was cut off when one of the EDC marines pressed his groin against Barbie's backside as she bent over to take her shot.

As so often happened when humans grew violent I could not follow the flow of actions but one moment Barbie was bent over the snooker table and the marine was pressed up behind her and then Barbie was standing, the marine was face down on the table with the pool cue was jammed into the marine's throat turning him a purple colour and Barbie had a grip of the man's wrist, twisting it at a funny angle.

"Now I can only assume that as I found this hand in my skirt that it somehow belongs to me," Barbie said calmly into the sudden silence of the snooker hall. "Now I'm willing to return this hand perfectly undamaged if you promise to take it away and not bother me again...whimper pathetically if you agree."

Around the table a crowd had gathered, several EDC marines moved to help their friend but Wolf and Kovac were quick to block their way.

Barbie's victim stayed silent for a few more seconds before she applied a little more pressure to his arm and a wail escaped the marine's lips. "Good, all settled then," said Barbie and she shoved the marine away from her so he sprawled onto the floor, he received a kick to the rump as he struggled to his feet.

The marine regained his feet and nurses his arm for a moment before turning to regard the smaller woman before him. He appeared to gain some swagger back when he realised he was several inches taller and significantly heavier than Barbie.

He swore at Barbie and moved as if to grab her but she moved quicker, the snooker cue snapped out striking him in the throat and then as he staggered back Barbie connected a kick to the groin hard enough to lift him from the ground.

Chaos broke out, Kovac planted his forehead into the nearest marine and Wolf brought his drinking utensil into the face of his opponent. Knickers threw the snooker balls at the four marines approaching from the farside of the table, driving them back.

Becca backed up hurriedly as two marines closed on her. She staggered and flung up two hands, the marines paused, "wait, wait for God's sake these are 6 inch heels," and then delivered a kick to the closest marine's head that caught his jaw and snapped his head to the right and he dropped to the floor insensate, "even I need to get my balance right in these damn things," she said as the other marine rushed her. Becca fell back onto a table pulled both legs in and then kicked out hard, her left foot ineffectively struck the marine's arm but her right caught his thigh, her narrow heel puncturing his flesh and causing him to fall, Becca's swinging left foot caught him under the chin.

Wolf hurdled the snooker table to land crossbody on four marines sending them all sprawling, Barbie and Knickers had both used snooker cues to good effect beating two attackers down. Kovac was facing one more marine who appeared to be the leader, he eyed Kovac then drew a large knife from his belt. Kovac cast around for a weapon and realising nothing useful was near him stepped back and to his left putting an overturned stool between him and his armed opponent.

"Its a shame there isn't a fruit bowl here, you'd be amazed at what I can do with a pineapple," remarked Kovac.

The marine looked a little confused as Kovac edged back further muttering, "even a banana in a pinch," Kovac looked past the marine to the barman, "got any fruit?" He called.

"Fruit won't help," growled the marine.

"It'll keep you distracted," said Kovac as Becca hit the marine with a stool.

Only Wolf was still fighting, he was a blur of fists and feet as he pounded all four marines at once. Seeing his friends watching he stepped back, "take your friends and get out," he yelled gesturing at the various supine marines in the snooker hall, the bloodied marines gathered up their more unfortunate members and delarted.

Kovac paid for the damages and the friends left the bar.

"It's possible that we may live to regret upsetting the EDC," Wolf said as the five of them arrived at their rooms.

"God knows they regret pissing off Barbie," Kovac said.

"What are they doing this far out?" Wolf insisted.

"At a guess...The new colony on planet 1D.F7 will need security with its proximity to the Xhost controlled space. I think they're here for that."

"1D.F7? I'm no good with designations," Becca asked.

"They're calling it Thresh-28 as it's technically part of the Thresh system."

"That's a huge contract, it's going to be a major hub for this regions expansion, the Galactic Council won't employ EDC troops for that." Becca said.

"My guess...they will if the EDC are doing it cheap, and they will, they'll do it to get their foot in the door so they can take a pop at the Xhost, they haven't forgiven them for the incident with the Saturn defences. Once the EDC rile the Xhost up the Galactic Council will be forced to involve themselves to protect the Thresh and Galun systems. "

"Great so they're here looking for a fight and Barbie gave them one, good job Babs you saved the galaxy," Knickers laughed.

"Goodnight Knickers, Barbie, goodnight Captain," Kovac said steering Becca through the door to their rooms.

Humans unlike many races have the ability to overlook rational facts and logic and to trust opinions and their preferred versions of events to reality. Often they convince themselves that these alternative views are the "true" facts, such creatures would certainly be capable of starting a war over pride and imagined offence but I did not truly believe that even the EDC would look to provoke a war with the Xhost fanatics.

[iplaydrake]

FULL CIRCLE - CHAPTER 2 - HOW TO BREAK A MENDED HEART

Catch Up Here :

CHAPTER 1 - INTRODUCING THE BROTHERS BEAUMONT AND THEIR LITTLE SISTER

Author’s Note : This story is gonna get a little dark. Suicide, Assault (both physical and sexual), Gun Violence, Blood, Swearing. Please read with caution. Positive feedback, constructive criticism, and reblogging are always welcome. I own nothing except the storyline of my MC. Everything else belongs to Pixelberry.

Pairing : (Eventually) Drake x MC

Tag List : @likethetailofacomet @carabeth @rhymesmenagerie @speedyoperarascalparty @butindeed @wannabemc2 @client-327 @jovialyouthmusic @be-still-my-aching-heart @riseandshinelittleblossom @lodberg @drakesensworld @alj4890 @jlouise88

 *** MANHATTAN, NY *** PRESENT DAY

She stood in her closet, smiling, as she put her phone down after reading Liam's last text. She'd kept every promise she made to him that day. She never called him, knowing that seeing her name come up on his caller ID would only make him worry, so she kept their communication to strictly texts. They'd never stuck to the once a month rule though, each sending random texts here and there, sometimes having conversations that would last days at a time. And after 3 long years of counseling, her therapist had officially cleared her, but she still continued to go once a month, feeling like she needed it to stay healthy, mentally. She'd managed to save a good portion of the money her parents had sent her over the years and now she had a beautiful apartment overlooking Central Park, a great job at an upscale bar, and with her continued hard work she'd be able to finish nursing school in a few months. After all this time, she was finally proud of herself and how far she'd come in her life.

The sound of Super Mario Brothers filled her room as she recognized the ringtone for her brother. 'That's weird, Liam just said it was 1:30. Maxwell must be drunk.' she chuckled to herself. She'd heard of tales of epic proportion regarding the parties her brothers would throw and as she answered her phone, she prepared herself for the loud music in the background, surprised when she heard nothing.

"Maxwell? Hey, I'm just getting ready for work. What's up?"

"Nothing! Why does something have to be up? Can't a guy just call his favorite sister from time to time?"

She chuckled again, "Ok, first of all, I'm your ONLY sister. And second, its the middle of the night where you are, so despite not actually seeing you in 6 years, I'd like to think I know you pretty well. Now spill it!"

"Well, I was just seeing if you wanted to hang out with me, but if you're too busy with work, well then..." he trailed off.

"Ha... Ha... Very funny. Where are you?" Before he could answer, there was a knock at her door. "Who the hell... Ugh, Maxwell, hold on..." She ran to the front door, her phone still at her ear and opened it to reveal him leaning against her doorframe, with a goofy grin on his face. She smiled back at him, widely. "I have to call you back." She joked as she clicked off her phone and jumped into his waiting arms. "MAXWELL, OH MY GOD! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!" She hugged him tight, not realizing just how much she had missed him until that moment.

"Man, I missed ya, kid!"

"I missed you too, Maxwell. So much!" She buried her face in his shoulder, tears coming to her eyes. After a couple minutes, she pulled away and put her back to him, wiping her tears before turning back to face him. She hated crying in front of anyone; in 6 years the only ones to see her cry were her therapist and Liam while she had been in the hospital. He knew why she did it and his heart sank a little, but he grabbed her hands pushing her back slightly.

"Wow, look at you! You're beautiful!" She blushed furiously, embarrassed by her brother's praise. "So, are you gonna invite me in or are we gonna catch up in the hallway?"

"Oh my god, of course!" She immediately let him walk past her, directing him in to her living room.

"Nice place you got here!" He let out a low whistle as he looked around.

"Thanks. Can I get you something to drink? Are you hungry? I'm not really home enough to go shopping but we could head to my bar and grab some food there. And I'll see if my boss will let me take the night off!"

"Um, actually, I... already spoke to your boss. He's giving you some time off!"

"Oh... I... Wait? What?"

"Rem, there actually IS a reason I'm here. Come on, let's sit." He grabbed her hands in his and walked them over to her couch and sat, pulling her down next to him. He hated that he had to get right into it but the funeral was in 2 days and their return flight was supposed to leave in the morning.

"Maxwell, what-"

"Rem, I'm so sorry. There's really no easy way to say this but... There was an accident. Mom and Dad were on their way back from some gala-"

"Maxwell..."

"It was raining and their driver must have lost control."

"Maxwell, stop."

"I'm so sorry, Remington. They're gone."

"MAXWELL STOP!" she shouted. She immediately let go of his hands, and stood up, trying to get some distance. "I, uh, I just... need some time... by myself." she whispered.

"Remi, please. Don't shut me out again. Let me-' She had already made it to her room, slamming the door behind her. '...help you..."

She grabbed her phone, typing furiously, not caring what time it was.

As she watched his responses flood her phone, she knew deep down, she wasn't thinking rationally. It wasn't Liam's place to tell her and Maxwell did come in person so she wouldn't be by herself when she found out. But irrationality won out and she turned her phone over, ignoring him. She headed into her bathroom, turned on the shower and laid on the cold tile floor, hoping the sound of the water would drown out her sobs.

*****

Maxwell rested his head on the back of the couch, waiting for her to come back out. After a little while, he felt the vibration of his phone in his pocket and was surprised to see that it was Liam who was calling given the time. "Li? Hey what's going on?"

"Hey Max, I just wanted to check in and see how she was doing?"

"Well, she locked herself in her room about 45 minutes ago, so I would say surprisingly well!" The sarcasm in his voice, evident.

"She's by herself? Maxwell, you should go check on her!"

"She said she just needed some time. She's understandably upset."

"She shouldn't be alone right -"

As Liam spoke, the door to her room finally opened. Her face looked freshly washed, her makeup now gone. If it weren't for her red, puffy eyes, you wouldn't have even been able to tell she'd been crying.

"I, uh, I gotta go, she's back. I'll talk to you later." He hung up without saying another word.

"Who was that?"

"How are you holding up?" She noticed the change in subject and thought better of arguing about it. Of course it was Liam checking on her.

"I'm ok."

"Listen, Rem. Our flight back leaves in the morning so-"

"Oh no, Maxwell! Don't you dare even think about it! Listen, I'm devastated about Mom and Dad I am, but if you think I'm going back there, you're sadly mistaken."

He knew it was going to be a fight to get her to agree to come home but he still wasn't prepared for it. He thought carefully about his next words, trying to think of the best way to go about convincing her.

"I know you, Rem. You won't be able to live with yourself if you don't say good-bye. Come on, it'll be good to see Bertrand and Savannah, even Bartie! You haven't met him yet. Plus you need your family around you right now."

"Maxwell, you are the only one I count as my family."

"Well then, come back for me. I need you just as much!... Please, Rem."

"I can't... I can't face everyone. I'm just now in a good place and if I have to go there and see people... It's too much, especially considering the circumstances. I-"

"I PROMISE I'LL PROTECT YOU." She had never heard such conviction and when she looked in his eyes, she knew he meant it. "I promise... You have more allies than you think, Liam and Drake, and -"

"Liam I would believe. Don't even mention Drake to me."

He'd never thought about her having a problem with Drake, but something clicked and he realized why she would. Drake was dating Kiara at the time of her birthday party and Kiara was best friends with Madeline. He'd witnessed Madeline's reign of terror and they all knew she was involved, if not the leader. "Rem, you can't possibly think Drake would-"

"Maxwell, I am NOT having that discussion with you!"

He let out a sigh and put his hands up in defeat, "Ok, ok... Well, either way, the flight leaves at 9 am... Just promise me you'll think about it. I mean REALLY think about it."

She hesitated, knowing once she said it, there was no way she could disappoint him. "I...promise."

They spent the rest of the night eating take out and catching up on all they missed since their last conversation. After showing Maxwell where he could sleep for the night, she headed back to her own room to contemplate what she was going to do. The next morning, as Maxwell walked out of his room, he smiled to himself as he saw her bags packed and waiting by the front door. 'Well this is gonna be interesting!'

Want to continue? Click below for the next chapter :

CHAPTER 3 - GOOD-BYE TO ALL THAT

[ancientbooshartifacts]

Dirty Dealings

Author: BeansidheBaby

Year: 2008

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Howince, Naboo/Bollo

“Vince, what've I said about going through my stuff?” Naboo was standing in the doorway with his arms folded. Vince smiled cheekily at him from his seat on the bed. “Alright Naboo?” he grinned “No I'm not actually. It took ages to categorize those potions. Next time you want a favour you can forget it,” Naboo turned swiftly on his heel and started out the door. Vince was unfazed by this dramatic display. He had an ace up his sleeve “All those back copies of National Geographic and Jane Goodall documentaries you have under your bed... I may have moved them around a bit,” he said with a look of pure evil, “I'm sure they'll turn up, though, I put them somewhere that should be easy enough to find. Even if you weren't looking for them, really,” he went on, idly examining his fingernails. “What? Jane who? I don't know what you're on about,” Naboo said feigning calm “National Geographic? You sure that wasn't yours? It was a series on 'the mighty apes of Africa'” “I only got it for the articles!” Naboo hissed hurriedly, “It's not what it looks like” “I'm sure,” Vince patted his hand gently, “Can I have a half holiday? It's Howard's birthday again next week and I want to go shopping for something nice to wear... I might get him a present while I'm at it actually,” Vince was no longer talking to him but off in a shopping fantasy world “Take the day off. Buy whatever you want and charge it back to the shop,” said Naboo flatly “Cheers Naboo” Vince smiled, before walking over to the wardrobe and retrieving an ageing cardboard box with 'magical waste: hazardous, may cause your hair to fall out and make you gain two stone' written on the lid. Apparently Vince had copped it that all the best stuff was labelled like that. He held the out the box and Naboo took it gingerly. “Don't worry your secret's safe with me,” said Vince happily picking out a new outfit for shopping “Yeah, until you want another half-holiday,” Naboo said with invective. He went back into his own room and stuffed the box back under his bed. He was sliding out from underneath, when Bollo walked through the door casually. Naboo jumped and hit his head on the frame of the bed. “Yes what is it, Bollo?” he asked in as dignified a tone as one could manage under such circumstances. “Vince say you wanted to see me,” Bollo said deferentially. “Yeah... I needed you to clean out underneath Vince's bed for me and put everything you find in Howard's secret hallowed out encyclopaedia Britannica he thinks we don't know about,”Naboo replied bitterly. “And help me up.”

~-~-~-~-~-~-

“This is bloody war,” Vince muttered. He'd just spent forty minutes explaining to Howard why he had a shoebox full of photos of the jazz maverick (embarrassingly enough including a clipping from a dodgy magazine shoot from Howard's youth he'd pilfered from his room) and how it had ended up in Howard's “secret” hiding place. Alright, so he might have twisted Naboo's arm a tiny bit with the National Geographic thing. It was his own fault for having such fun things hidden in his room along with his private incriminating magazines. Everyone knew if you were told not to look somewhere, you only wanted to look more. Still Naboo fancying Bollo, that was a bit of a shocker. In hind sight it was easy to see the signs. How was he supposed to pass that up? As blackmail went, it was pure gold. What he hadn't counted on was Naboo fighting dirty too, the slippery bastard. Two could play at that game. ~-~-~-~-~-~- Naboo felt himself drift gently into consciousness from a great distance. Is it a pervert? No, perverts have beards, my mum told me He doesn't have any clothes on How do you know it's a he? Maybe it's an alien He opened his eyes and fuzzy images of small humans swam in front of him. He felt cold for some reason. Who were all these little people? “What are you lot doing here?” he slurred, his tongue heavy in his mouth. He must have been completely wasted last night. “This is a playground mister,” said one little person with its hands in its pockets. Oh children. That explained a bit. “Are you a mister? You haven't got a thingy” the impertinent child continued. Naboo looked down at his body. He was naked. How did that happen? “Vince,” he muttered murderously. ~-~-~-~-~-~- Naboo opened the door to the door, wearing only an anorak a sympathetic twelve year old girl had given him. It was just barely skimming his arse and he dragged it down irritably. He heard a quiet cackle and he turned to scowl at Vince. “Rough night?” the electro poof, asked smirking cruelly, “Pink's a good colour on you.” “This is far from over,” he said and left the room dramatically, the effect somewhat compromised by the anorak twirling behind him. He walked through the door and straight into Bollo. He felt the blush rising up his neck, that could only be more noticeable with the bright fuchsia jacket. “Morning Bollo,” he muttered with fierce embarrassment choking him. Bollo slowly looked Naboo up and down (or down and further down to be completely accurate) and blinked. “New look?” he asked curiously “No,” Naboo replied flatly. He rubbed his bloodshot eyes and scuffed his feet on the carpet. His legs were trembling slightly. Without prompting, Bollo picked him up in his large arms. His thumbs were just brushing the crease underneath Naboo's buttocks. Naboo felt his cheeks (all of them) burn and he hid his face in the crook of his familiar's shoulder.

~-~-~-~-~-~-

Vince swanned down the stairs and through the beaded curtain to the shop at half past three. His head was pounding and he was hiding bloodshot eyes with a pair of oversized sunglasses. He'd have to come up with a new look during his tea break to incorporate them into a fashionable ensemble. Because Vince Noir didn't just look shit after a night out, like some boring non-sunshine person, he was beauty incarnate, he could party all night and look like a million dollars all throughout, he was Vince Noir for fucks sake. He needed an aspirin Howard looked up from the desk, about to haul Vince out over being late, when he froze and his eyes doubled in size, nearly reaching normal proportions. “Your hair.” Howard said in a small, almost frightened voice. For God's sake, one morning without Root-Boost and even Howard noticed. He must be slipping. “Is it that bad?” he asked, forgetting all about an excuse he'd thought up for being late, involving killer raisons disguised as house flies. “It's... different,” Howard said slowly, “But if you like it, I'm sure it's fine. I don't know what's supposed to be cool.” “Howard it's slightly deflated, you don't need to tiptoe around me like it's the end of the world,” Vince tutted. Howard continued to stare at him. “Have you seen a mirror yet today?” he asked. “What kind of a question is that? But, now that I think of it, no actually. Satisfied?” he spun around on his heel and went to swipe at the Victorian tweezers display with an ostrich feather duster that had once been part of a jacket that had suffered a fatal accident with a pair of straighteners. He felt Howard shuffling up behind him and tensed. Howard tapped his shoulder and looked at his shoes when he turned around. He passed him a hand mirror with an ornate oval frame. Vince rolled his eyes, removed his sunglasses and looked into the glass, before screaming and hurling it away from him. “What the fuck happened to my hair?!” he shrieked. “It's not that bad,” Howard said soothingly. “Not that fucking bad! Have you seen it?” Vince continued hysterically and started to cry. “Hey there, little man. Don't cry, it's just hair,” Howard said in what he hoped was a comforting tone, while patting Vince's shoulder gently. Vince let out a pathetic moan and buried his face in Howard's chest and sobbed. Howard rubbed his back with one hand and murmured platitudes into his friend's ear. He lifted a bleached strand of hair between the fingers of his other hand. Vince's head was covered in irregular stripes and blotches of orangey blond hair, among the glossy black. In a strange way, it reminded him of Vince's blonde highlights when they'd been in the Zoo. He didn't say anything though, Vince would not have appreciated a comparison between his carefully maintained feather cut and this coiffure cock-up. “You can dye it back again,” he said softly into the shell of Vince's ear. Vince trembled like a leaf in his arms so he held him closer, but the shaking only continued. Finally, he was holding Vince in a tight bear hug and he was whispering to him, his lips so close to Vince's cheek, they were brushing lightly across the pale skin like feather light kisses. The front door burst open and they jumped apart. Naboo walked across the threshold with Bollo in tow holding bags of shopping. “What's going on here?” said Naboo, indicating the broken mirror, “That's seven months bad luck.” “Years,” Howard corrected him. “Naw, that's just a myth, seven months is what you get. But there's a parole after four months if you avoid black cats and ladders.” He turned to look at Vince, “This the new look then? Can't say I'm taken with it. It almost looks like someone replaced half a bottle of your shampoo with kitchen bleach,” he said, completely straight faced. The bastard. Vince grimaced menacingly. “Thanks for the hint, Naboo,” he said through gritted teeth, “Gotten any good magazines recently? I understand the National Geographic is doing a series on-” “Bollo, we're going. Put the shopping away.” Naboo exited the room quickly. “There's no need to be ungracious Vince,” Howard said, “it's just his way. He was trying to help, I'm sure.” “Yes,” said Vince, “I'm sure I shall be 'helping' him with something in return very soon.” There was the distant reflection of fire dancing in his pupils and his jaw was set in determination. “Would you like me to dye it black again for you, Vince?” Howard asked innocently, idly plucking at a strand of Vince's hair. Vince thought of Howard's wet hands caressing his scalp and gently brushing tendrils of hair out of his face. Revenge could wait for a little while.

~-~-~-~-~-~-

Naboo went through another drawer with a rising sense of panic. It had to be here somewhere, there was no way that he'd left it lying around. “Looking for something?” Vince asked from the doorway, fiddling with a strand of his newly restored hair. “What do you want for it? Money, time off work? I won't even try to get you back this time just tell me what you've done with it,” Naboo asked, some anxiety creeping into his trademark calm voice. Vince looked at him with a predatory look in his eye. “I've mailed it to the Board of Shaman,” he replied at length, examining his fingernails. Naboo sat down heavily on his bed. “You're lying. You want me to panic and offer you more,” he said, though he knew that he was only fooling himself. “It's gone a bit beyond half holidays and shopping trips at this stage Naboo. You went after my hair.” Vince looked more dangerous than he ever had, “I must say it was an interesting read. Very educational, I was never sure how you did it exactly,” he went on casually, shaking his thin wrist from side to side to illustrate his point. Naboo felt faint with, what felt like, all the blood in his body rushing into his face. “You've gone too far this time Vince,” he said shakily. “This is why keeping a diary is a bad idea. Don't write things down that you don't want read,” Vince replied cruelly. “I can't remember things if I don't write them down,” Naboo muttered into his chest, “When did you post it?” “This morning, first post,” Vince said gleefully and giggled for some unfathomable reason. Naboo nodded slowly and got to his feet. “Excuse me please Vince,” he said with dignity and walked out of the room. He made his way to the living room, running on autopilot. There was nothing Vince could possibly do to him now, and in a way that was liberating. When he arrived, Howard was watching a subtitled documentary about the history of the French horn and Bollo was doing the Times crossword (nineteen across: banana, seventeen down: banana, four down: shaman) on the couch. He cleared his throat and they looked towards him in polite confusion. Usually he'd announce himself with a call of, 'Oi, ballbags.' “I don't know if you've noticed, but Vince and I have been having a minor disagreement these past few weeks,” he said quietly. Bollo and Howard shook their heads, nonplussed. Naboo rolled his eyes before continuing. “Well anyway, we have, and he's taken it upon himself to send my diary to the Board of Shaman. Which is why I need to do this. It's better in the long run,” he scrunched up his face and looked at both of them in turn. He let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes. Vince couldn't do anything to him, but if he let the Board settle this with a bloody 'mediated chat/group therapy session' with a full council, then things would get unimaginably worse. He opened his eyes and made his way across the room, wishing that his legs were longer, or the room was smaller. He placed himself in his familiar's lap and covered his mouth his his own. “That's it really,” he whispered and ran off back to his own room, where thankfully Vince had buggered off.

~-~-~-~-~-~-

“Naboo this is Saboo speaking. You're going to come out of that room right now!” There were two shaman that Vince recognized from Howard's birthday party, outside Naboo's door, trying unsuccessfully to coax him out. “Naboo, this is ridiculous. We don't care what you have a fiddle about, everyone has their secrets.” “Not everyone has their secrets read out to a council of their peers, you ballbag,” a muffled voice came from behind the door. “Come on Naboo, we've all forgotten what it was about at this stage. Kirk got out the absinthe out and we spent seven hours chasing the green fairy,” Tony Harrison said to the impassive door. “What are you talking about? I don't remember that ever happening! Naboo's diary, containing several extremely explicit fantasies, was sent this morning by first post and Dennis read the whole thing out in one sitting. It completely ran roughshod over my initiative for a more efficient filing system.” “Saboo, you bloody outrage, I was trying to make him feel better.” Vince sighed and walked out of the hallway. He hadn't meant for it to go this far. Well he had, but he hadn't expected to feel sorry about it. Naboo was a mate and he liked him a lot. It wasn't his fault who he fancied after all. In the living room Howard was sitting quietly, looking deeply confused. “Alright Howard?” he asked half heartedly. “Vince,” Howard said, looking at him with a strange look in his small eyes. “What's all this with Naboo?” “We were having an argument,” he replied shortly. “I gathered,” Howard said shortly, “But what is going on? With those shaman here and that business with Bollo and I thought the two of you were friends? What did he do that made you do that to him?” Vince felt guilt settle in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't look Howard in the eye. “It got a bit out of hand. I found out he liked Bollo and tried to blackmail him. Then we sort of started trying to one up each other.” He looked at his knees and felt Howard's shocked stare bore into his back. “Do you remember when you had to fix my hair?” he asked his knees. He was rewarded with a sharp intake of air from beside him. Which was gratifying. “I took it too far this time, though. Hair grows out eventually.” He looked up at Howard with an expression of remorse. Without thinking, he leant over and kissed Howard on the lips, quickly. “He's even now,” Vince blushed. “Oh,” said Howard. “Yeah,” Vince replied, apologetically. “The photos?” “I've been collecting them for three years,” Vince said and looked away in embarrassment again. “Vince-” Howard began. “Listen, Howard, we need to have this out, but right now I have to go and say sorry to Naboo.” He left a still very confused Howard and went back to the corridor outside Naboo's room. Tony and Saboo weren't having much luck with him apparently. “You're acting like a child, Naboo. You wouldn't catch Kirk acting like this.” “I dunno, Saboo, he did get very embarrassed when we found all those dead prostitutes in the cupboard under the stairs.” “Hi guys,” Vince interrupted them, “Can I talk to him for a bit?” They shrugged and walked off in the direction of the kitchen (well Saboo walked and carried Tony, under duress). “Hey Naboolio, it's Vince. I know you probably don't want to hear anything that I have to say, but I'm sorry. I was a right little bitch to you. Can you come out please? Talking to this door is well awkward.” There was a small click and when Vince tried the handle the door swung inwards on its hinges. Naboo was sitting in the middle of his bed with his legs drawn up under his chin. His eyes were slightly red, but other than that his blank expression gave nothing away. “You alright, Naboo?” he asked, sitting down next to the tiny shaman softly. “Been better,” Naboo said, staring at a spot on the wall. “Do you think that you can come out now?” Vince asked gently. “I'm alright stopping here for the moment,” he replied quietly, almost to himself. “I'm really sorry. Would you feel better if you turned your back on me?” Vince's voice wobbled. “No... I don't think so. Thanks for saying sorry though,” it was impossible to tell if he was being sarcastic or not. “I'm sorry I stripped you and left you in the park.” “I'm sorry I put bleach in your shampoo.” “I'm sorry I tried to blackmail you.” “I'm sorry I put cat poo in your white Chelsea boots.” “What?” “Nothing.” “Can I do anything that'll make it up to you?” “Not really.” Vince put his arms around Naboo and rested his head against his shoulder. Naboo sighed and leant his head against Vince's. After a few minutes, Vince felt someone tap his shoulder and looked up to see Bollo shuffling nervously next to the bed. He pressed a kiss into Naboo's dark black hair, detached himself from the shaman and left the room quietly. *~*~* Naboo looked up shyly through the curtain of his hair before turning his head away again. Two large hands were placed either side of his face and he looked back again slowly. Bollo sat down next to him and pulled him into his lap. Naboo buried his face in his familiar's chest and breathed in his musky smell. He felt his hair being petted and looked up into Bollo's oddly coloured eyes. For the second time in twenty four hours, he kissed the primate. This time, he didn't pull away, and there was a hand stroking up his inner thigh and a definite stirring from underneath where he was sitting. “This is all kinds of wrong,” he whispered. Bollo kissed him again. *~*~* Vince was noisily making toast in the kitchen, rattling cupboard doors and singing, trying to drown out the muffled noises coming from down the hall. Howard walked in, looking shaken. “Those two shaman have left,” he said, sitting down at the table. “Right,” Vince replied and nodded, before shuddering at one of the ragged moans drifting through the flat, “I like a happy ending and all, but this is a bit weird. Like listening to my little brother going at it, or something. Hey Howard, what're you doing?” Howard was walking towards him purposefully and walked him into a corner until the kettle was poking him in the back. “Howard?” he asked uncertainly. Their hips were touching and Howard was gripping his arm firmly. “I think we need to have a little chat, Vince,” he said before kissing the smaller man and pressing him against the counter. Well, Vince thought, talking was over rated anyway.

[everemmanuelle]

The night we met.

BRAD

I hated being home. I hated that this cold and empty Hollywood Hills house was now my 'home'. I spent most of my free days riding my motorbike, letting the roar of the engine drown out my thoughts. I missed my family. I even missed Angie. Though, if I were being honest with myself, not nearly as much as I thought I would.

I rode all across Los Angeles. I rode out to the desert. Joshua Tree. Death Valley. I didn't have any work to keep me busy. Not for a few weeks at least. Most of my friends were off working. George was busy with Amal. Cate, David, Ed... everyone was busy. They knew about the breakup, though the public didn't yet. They'd offered me their sympathy. I needed something more than that. I needed a distraction. I needed to get laid.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I slowed down to a stop and took a look. My manager, Cynthia, wanted to know if I was going to the event tonight. I'd forgotten. Julia had invited me a few weeks ago to the opening party of this new restaurant and bar that she and her husband had invested in. I'd told her I'd go. I was sure I'd be fine by then. I hadn't been out much since Angie had kicked me out of the house we'd shared. Maybe this was just the time. Maybe I'd meet someone who would scratch that itch. Or maybe I'd feel worse than I already did. It didn't seem likely.

I texted her back that I'd be there. I rode home to get ready. I looked at myself in the mirror. This was 53, I thought. My hair had started to grey. I had wrinkles all around my eyes. At least I'd kept fit. Robert Redford was what? 80 now? He looked alright. Should I shave? I touched my chin. I'd let a short beard grow. My hair was short, a little messy. It'd do. I showered, changed into a pair of grey trousers and a grey button down. I put on some black dress shoes and organised a car to take me.

HAVEN

"I don't wanna go!" I whined. I'd already agreed. I'd already drank the required amount of pre-drinking alcohol that Cali had laid out for me. I was tipsy.  But it wasn't the good kind. It was the kind that reminded me how sad I was that my boyfriend of the last six months had dumped me for gaining a few extra pounds. Even if it was for work. I'd always been a little too curvy for the industry as a model. But a few more pounds, my agent assured me, would put me on top of the plus size modelling industry. If it meant I got to eat dessert now and then, I was all for it. Leo, however, was not. In his words, "I can't be seen dating a fat chick."

"We're going," Cali said, pulling me up off the lounge. "You look so good. It's gonna be so much fun. You can meet someone to take your mind off Leo."

"I don't want to meet anybody," I argued. "I want to stay home and watch Netflix."

"And waste this good buzz?" she asked. "My agent got me two tickets to this thing. It's too late to find someone else. I am not going alone. Get your ass up!" Cali was a budding actress. She had talent and she worked hard but she needed the luck meets opportunity part of the equation. She was a friend from back home and we just so happened to be moving to LA at the same time a year or so ago. Rooming together seemed the reasonable thing to do. She quickly became the best friend I'd ever had.

I groaned. She was right. I was being selfish. I needed to snap out of it. Leo didn't deserve my sadness. He was an asshole. I knew I shouldn't date a guy whose last hundred girlfriends were skinny blondes. But he'd asked. I was beyond flattered. Romeo and Juliet was my favourite movie as a young girl. How could I say no? Well I regretted it now, didn't I?

"Okay," I said, rising, shaking off the melancholy and making sure I hadn't messed my black beaded mini dress with spillage or creasing. I was good. "Let's go."

"Are you sure?" Cali asked, as annoyed as she'd be if I bailed, she didn't want to be a bad friend and force me out when I wasn't ready.

I didn't want to be a bad friend either and bail at the last minute. She needed to network. I needed to leave the house. I nodded. "Let's go."

BRAD

Jesus Christ. Who the hell is that? She's young, I thought. But sexy as hell. My cock throbbed within seconds of looking at those eyes. I couldn't see what colour they were. She was too far away. But they were piercing. She caught me looking. I looked away. 

Not smart. Really not fucking smart. You came to this party to find someone to fuck and she was not the one, I thought. She can't have been more than 22. I was almost double her age. But that body. In Hollywood, a girl with some flesh on her bones was harder to find than a cocaine-free surface. Who was she, I wondered. An actress? A model? She had to be something like that. She was too pretty to be a nobody.

HAVEN

Brad Pitt. Brad fucking Pitt. He was looking right at me. Why the hell was he looking at me? We were in a room filled with Los Angeles' most beautiful women and Brad fucking Pitt was looking at me. And, looking embarrassed to have been caught in the act. And yet, he looked at me again.

"Cali?" I asked. She was chatting with another actress from her agency. "Cali!" I pressed.

She turned to me, annoyed. "What?" she hissed.

"Is he looking at me?"

Cali looked around, confused. I watched the confusion turn to shock as her eyes widened and mouth dropped. "Is that Brad Pitt?"

"Yes, is he looking?" I asked.

"He was," she answered. "He just looked again," she said excitedly.

I turned back and he was still looking. He smiled a little. I smiled back. I turned back to Cali. "Oh my god."

"You have all the fucking luck! Go over there," she said.

"Are you insane? I can't just go approach Brad Pitt."

"Why the hell not?" she asked. "I'll do it."

She was always much braver than me. That must've been the actress in her. She could do anything if she was pretending to be someone else. "No," I said, shaking my head. I glanced back at him. He was chatting to Julie Roberts. Pffft. No way could I go over there.

BRAD

I could barely followed along with what Julia was saying. Something about drama with the head chef. I just nodded, looking intermittently over at the beautiful girl. She looked intermittently at me too. No way could I approach a girl that age. That would be way too creepy. Julia excused herself as Rhys, an old acting buddy of mine, came to say hello.  "How are you?" he asked as he shook my hand.

"Good, how are you?" I asked.

"Yeah, good," he answered. "What have you been up to?"

I rattled on about nothing particular. He'd heard about the projects I had coming up. He told me about his. I asked after his kids and he asked after mine. And, Angie. I reluctantly told him that we were over. "Sorry man. That sucks."

I nodded. I looked back over to the girl. He followed my gaze. Shit.

"You looking at Haven Roser?" he asked.

"Who?" I asked.

"Haven Roser," he answered. "The model? Long dark hair. Massive tits." They weren't massive. They were proportional to her body. Angie was straight as a board. I'd loved her body but I missed curves.

"Never heard of her," I answered, hoping he wouldn't go on.

"She's dating Leo," he said. "Ah. There he is."

I looked over to see Leonardo DiCaprio in his usual newsboy cap, approaching her where she sat with a few other girls. He never did have a problem dating the young ones. Damn.

"Not his usual type but I'd fuck her," Rhys went on. Sure. As if she'd let him near her. He was as greasy as they came. I struggled to remember why we'd been friends as he went on about his latest conquests. I looked around the room for other women. I still had an itch that needed scratching. But I couldn't tear my eyes away from her. Haven. 

HAVEN

What the fuck? Why is he here? I swallowed as he walked right over to me.  "Haven," he said, a question on his lips.

"Leo," I said back.

"What are you doing here?" I could barely hear him. I stood up. "What are you doing here?" he repeated.

"I'm having a drink..." I answered, showing him my half empty glass.

He smiled straight and unhappy. "This isn't really your scene."

I furrowed my brows. "What does that mean?"

"It's an industry party," he continued.

"It's a restaurant opening," I argued. Cali and her friend were looking up at us then. I looked over to Brad, he was watching as well.

"Come here for a sec?" he asked, pulling at my arm, leading us into the corridor leading to the exit.

I pulled my arm from his grip. He'd never handled me like that before. In the six months we'd spent together he could be a little inattentive but he'd never manhandled me. Any part of him that was ever sweet to me seemed to have vanished from his personality. "What?" I asked.

"These are my people. You should go."

I laughed a little. Was he serious? "I was here first," I argued. "You should go."

He scoffed. I saw Brad approaching from behind Leo. He clapped a hand on his shoulder. God, he was even better looking up close. I lost my breath a little. Leo was nothing compared to Brad. Not now, not ever. "Leo," he said in greeting.

"Brad," Leo said, the charm switched on. This was the guy that asked me out. Oozing charm. "How are you?"

"Good," he said, before turning to me. "Hi."

"I hoped I'd see you here. Quentin told me you're in?" Leo asked.

"I am," Brad answered. He looked like he was waiting to be introduced to me. Leo seemed to have no plans to do that. "I'm Brad," he said, taking the initiative.

I shook his hand. Woah. His hand was warm. His touch electric. It shot straight through me. I took a breath. "Haven," I said, letting it out.

"Don't bother," Leo said. "She's no one."

No one. Six months and I was no one. I'd met all his friends as his girlfriend. We'd slept together. We'd gone for a weekend to Mexico together. I was a model with a relative amount of fame in my own right. No one? And he said it in front of Brad fucking Pitt. I mustered up the barest of smiles for Brad whose expression was unreadable and walked out the exit.

I was so embarrassed. I couldn't go back in there. I took out my phone and sent a text.

To Cali: I had to go. Don't be mad.

Hers came back quick.

Cali: I get it. See you at home x

I put my phone away as a figure appeared beside me. I turned to find Brad Pitt standing inches from me. What was that smell? Was that him? He smelled good. Like the barest amount of an oaky cologne and a touch of whiskey on his breath when he spoke. "Hi."

"Hi," I said back. It was all I could manage.

"He's a dick," Brad continued, with half a shrug. I smiled. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. Was he nervous, too? "Do you want to go for a drink?" he asked.

Oh my god. Yes. Yes. Fuck yes. Brad Pitt? "Yeah," I said, hoping my voice wouldn't betray the sheer joy I was experiencing.

He smiled a little, walked over to the street and hailed an approaching taxi. he held open the back door. "After you."

https://www.wattpad.com/story/176006419-brad-brad-pitt-x-katherine-langford-complete VOTED #2 IN BRAD PITT FANFIC

[groggycascade]

Josh’s Balls Incite Him to Foolishness Pt. II

Kelsey's routine on getting home from work was:

Step out of high heels in front hallway.

Look in on Hayley and Josh.

Shower.

Wine – 1 glass of.

  After particularly long or difficult days, this routine might be amended slightly. For instance, her high heels might be not so much stepped out of as kicked off. Or, for glass of wine she might substitute bottle. Most often, though, she would elongate her time in the shower by about twenty minutes. First, she would undress in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the bathroom, reminding herself how sexy she still was at the age of forty-two. The stress of having raised two children almost single-handed hadn't dented her beauty: even without her professionally-understated makeup, she looked five or six years younger than her true age. Then there was her body. Kelsey wasn't a vain person, but her body was her proudest feature. She kept in shape with vigorous cardiovascular exercise at the gym, to say nothing of pilates, aerobics, yoga, swimming, crossfit... Once upon a time her body had, in addition to being beautiful, been a fierce weapon. That was back when Hayley and Josh were younger, and Kelsey had made a little extra money as a martial arts instructor, a position she had left voluntarily after a boy in her class lost both his testicles in an accident. She hadn't practised karate since that day: although the accident hadn't been her fault (the dumb kid had taunted a blackbelt girl while not wearing a cup), she had been devastated by guilt at the thought that a young man under her care would live the rest of his life without testicles.

  After admiring herself for a decent interval, Kelsey'd slip under the hot, thudding water. Slowly, she would drift away... Almost of their own accord her hands would start massaging her breasts, before moving down between her legs. After an extra-stressful workday, these protracted showers of hers never failed to leave Kelsey feeling relaxed and good about herself.

  Today had been one of those days. Before she could administer a little self-love, though, Kelsey had to check in on her two children. This was the part of her routine that never changed. Josh and Hayley were her two favourite things in the world, and nothing could make her not glad to see them.

  She met Hayley first: she was in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water. For some reason, Kelsey thought, her daughter seemed kind of flushed and self-satisfied-looking. Unbidden, the thought that this was the outcome of sex came to Kelsey's mind. So far as she knew Hayley didn't have a boyfriend right now, but that was always liable to change. Hayley'd inherited her mother's ample proportions and outgoing personality. There was never any shortage of young men hanging around. Josh, thought Kelsey as she knocked on his door, was much more of an introvert. She wondered sometimes if he might still be a virgin.

  Josh was lying on his bed when she entered. The first thing Kelsey noticed was a bag of frozen peas between his legs.

  “Joshy!” she cried.

  “Hey,” Josh said weakly. In a strained voice, he explained that he'd been changing a lightbulb in the lounge, standing on the arm of a sofa, when he'd slipped and fallen with one leg on either side of the sofa arm.

  Her initial concern at the sight of her injured son abating somewhat, Kelsey thought how cute it was that he didn't say anything about his “balls,” “privates,” or “testicles.” Boys were so insecure about their sensitive little organs: it must be completely humiliating to Josh for his own mother to see him with his pride and genitals bruised like this. That started her worrying again: how badly hurt must he be to let her see him in this condition? What if he had ruptured a testicle? Surely it would already be too late to save..?

  “Did you check yourself out, honey?” she asked Josh. “You know how fragile you are... down there,” she said, pointing downwards.

  “I'm OK,” he answered, not sounding it. “This ice is helping a lot.”

  Kelsey bit her lip. She was wondering if she ought to tell Josh about Bobby, the boy whose testicles ended up getting turned to mush in her karate class, all those years ago. It would be an uncomfortable conversation, sure: the words ruptured testicles never failed to elicit shudders, winces, groans, from any boy who heard them. This Kelsey knew from experience: she had spent many years demonstrating the most effective methods from destroying a pair of testicles to classes full of smirking girls and sullen boys. But that was only for self-defence: no man who wasn't trying to harm a woman deserved castration. Kelsey couldn't even imagine the pain and humiliation that would entail, but she knew that talking about it with her son would be acutely embarrassing for him. Still, she thought she probably ought to: there was something about his story which didn't ring true, as though there were some information he was withholding from her...

  “I'm OK,” Josh repeated, almost as though he'd guessed what was on his mother's mind.

  “Well, only if you're sure honey,” Kelsey said. He was nineteen after all, she thought: old enough to look after his own balls. But she didn't like the thought of doing nothing. “At least let me fetch you another bag of peas,” she said. “This one's melting all over you!”

  With that, she lifted the sodden bag off her son's balls. What Kelsey didn't know was that, to ensure maximum scrotal contact with the frozen peas, Josh had pulled his whole package out of the front of his shorts. Kelsey's eyes widened as she looked down at her son's swollen balls and his small penis. I hope that's from the cold, she thought sadly, or he'll never get any use out of it, balls or no balls.

  “Jesus!” Josh shouted.

  “Oh! Sorry!” Kelsey exclaimed, dropping the bag of peas directly on Josh's exposed testicles.

  “Argh!”

  “Oh God, Joshy! I'm so sorry!”

  Josh didn't respond. He'd curled his body around the bag of peas, his eyes squeezed shut. Flustered, Kelsey fled the room.

  Outside, she leaned against her son's door. Slowly she calmed down. She'd seen, and for that matter inflicted, a few ruptured testicles in her time. Her accidental glimpse of her son's genitals had been enough to reassure her that they had received no permanent injury. As for the mishap with the pea-bag: that would leave him no worse than sore for a while.

  Grinning slightly, Kelsey bit her index finger. There was no denying it: so long as no serious damage occurred, testicular pain was... well, pretty funny actually. The memory of Josh's comically enlarged balls and shrunken cock came into her mind, and she giggled. Poor Josh! Nature hadn't exactly blessed him with sexual endowments the way it had his sister.

  That was when she noticed Hayley standing a little way down the hall, looking at her with amused curiosity.

  “Everything alright, mum?” she asked.

  “Err... yes!” Kelsey said. “Your brother's just had a little accident.”

  “I know!” Hayley said delightedly. “He fell on his balls! I wanted him to let me check to see if he'd popped one,” she went on, “but he insisted on crawling up his his room.”

  “Why didn't you tell me?!” Kelsey cried.

  “They're his balls,” Hayley pouted. “If he can't look after them, that isn't my fault.”

  Later, standing under the hot, relieving shower, Kelsey continued to worry about her son's testicles. While his injury had seemed fleetingly funny, Hayley's reaction had reminded her that there were girls out there who either didn't understand the fragility of a boy's balls, or just didn't care. Almost automatically her hand passed over her smooth vagina. She knew she wouldn't be able to masturbate now, not after what had just happened. Eventually she turned the water off.

  She had come to a decision that she needed a conversation with both her children.

                                                           * * *

  Hayley eased open the door to her brother's room.

  “She believe you?” she asked, poking her head around the door.

  “Yes,” Josh wheezed.

  “Good! Because it turns out we may have to step up our operation. I've been sounding out some ballbusting message boards, and people are excited, to say the least. Some of their ideas are a little... extreme.” Hayley giggled. “For example, 'HollyJ91' says she'll pay £200 for a video where I, quote, yank my brother's trousers down, hold his ankles apart, and keep stomping till there's nothing left between his legs.”

  Josh looked horrified. Hayley laughed at his expression.

  “Don't worry, Joshy! If I'm going to stomp your little balls into jelly it will be for a hell of a lot more than £200. I mean, how short-sighted do you think I am?”

  Cackling, she withdrew her head from the door. Josh sighed miserably. Hayley's face popped back into view.

  “Oh, and you'd better think up a bunch of excuses for why you're walking funny for the next few weeks,” she said. “Do I have to think of everything? I thought we were partners in this thing!”

  Josh heard her chuckling quietly to herself as she skipped off down the hall.

[wintermoth]

Rena Knows Best

Merry Christmas @forfuckssakejim​ I’m your Secret Santa this year!!! ( @mlsecretsanta)

I was meant to post this yesterday but this last week has been very turbulent and I wasn’t able to. So, better late than never! This has multiple parts and the rest will come later! I hope you enjoy the hilarity within!!

Warning for everyone: this contains minor spoilers for upcoming characters in season 2+. I say minor cos pretty much everyone knows by now.

Part One: Sweet Summer Kitten

Chat Noir would never admit it aloud for fear of offending their newest heroes but he kind of missed the days when it was just him and his Lady. They had a good thing going, a dynamic duo of comic book proportions, and though Ladybug was adored by many, in a way, she’d been his and his alone. The public only saw them when they wanted to be seen. He’d enjoyed their banter, he’d enjoyed their dynamics, and he’d enjoyed the moments where it’d been just the two of them.

Rena and Bee changed everything.

Chat Noir had no idea who they were under their masks but he knew, without a doubt, that prior to receiving their kwami and Miraculous, each had been die-hard fans of theirs. Or, more specifically, hers. They’d spent the first few weeks fawning over Ladybug every moment they could, to the point where Chat wondered if he honestly had competition now for her affections. Mercifully, she did not seem to share their enthusiastic interest.

At first, Chat Noir had quietly insisted that he and Ladybug do their patrols like normal. Without the new additions along for the ride. She’d gone along with it but had quickly seen through his ruse, which lead to a long, awkward, but necessary talk. He hated admitting that he was jealous, that he was selfish enough to want her to himself, but he swallowed his pride and did it anyway because she was his Lady and she deserved the truth out of him. His heart softened when she confessed that she, too, was struggling to adapt to this.

“They act like they know us,” she muttered, “and it…grates on my nerves. Maybe one day we’ll all be good friends but right now they’re….”

“Yeah.” Chat Noir knew full well what she was experiencing and it was something he had grown used to as a model. Sometimes, not often, but sometimes he would meet people—other young models or fans of his—who would act like they were best friends within five minutes of meeting, simply because they’d read an article about him in a teen magazine. He never knew what to do with himself during those conversations but tried to keep as polite as possible. Now Ladybug was doing the same and neither Rena or Bee seemed to realize they were overstepping their bounds.

“But if I tell them that then they might not…y’know…want to work with us.” She gnawed on her lip. “They’re good, so far. They’ve been a huge help…and we needed them, but…”

“It’d be nice if they stopped being fangirls and realized that they’re strangers?” Chat Noir suggested. She nodded.

Of course, he also knew full well how to remedy the situation. So far, the only times their new companions had only met them in battle. They had yet to see the parts of them reserved for their casual meetups. They only knew the warriors, not the humans beneath the armor. If they wanted them to settle down then that would have to change. He was just loathe to welcome them into something that had always been reserved for just him and Ladybug.

Fortunately, they were of one mind.

He and Ladybug officially met up three nights a week for patrol. Rena Rouge and Queen Bee were invited to one of these nights each and in that order. The third night they went out alone and the next week, they invited both of them to come together.  It wasn’t as bad as they feared. Battles were public spectacles, a song and dance their most avid fans could recognize and join in on as both Bee and Rena had. Patrols were different, private in a way despite their public locations. There was no script for either girl to follow and with the loss of their comfort zone, they calmed, and just as they began to see Ladybug and Chat Noir, Ladybug and Chat Noir began to see them.

Queen Bee was narcissistic (and, really, her name should’ve been a dead giveaway) and she didn’t quite get how to be a selfless hero. She wouldn’t risk her neck to rescue a civilian but focused on their enemy with single-minded determination. She also adored the press…a little too much.

Rena Rouge was reckless and a bit too sporadic. She had a habit of arriving fashionably late to the fight but when she was present, she often took initiative and had a good handle on her powers. However, she was prone to taking her eyes off the enemy and swooping in to rescue civilians at risk to herself. There was definitely a hero complex there.

They needed work, to be sure, but there was room for them to grow and learn. And learn they did.

Ladybug taught Bee how to utilize her suit’s innate athletic capabilities to perform martial arts moves and parkour, to use the battle knowledge stored within the Miraculous from centuries of warriors before her. Chat taught Rena how to run comfortably on all fours and control her ears and tail, both of which were as erratic as she and subject to instinctual movements. There was a certain transparency that came with artificial limbs respond to your thoughts and emotions in an animalistic way.

Of course, there were other lessons they learned on their own, mostly through combat and observation. When to charge in, when to wait, when to trust Ladybug, and when to make a judgement call and apologize later. What made them laugh and what made them uncomfortable, what topics they could broach, what bits of their lives were completely off-limits, what ‘hero perks’ they could partake in.

Most important of all they learned a simple, irrefutable fact that had been speculated by many but never confirmed: Chat Noir was head over heels in love with Ladybug and Ladybug had no flippin’ idea.

No longer were his subtle hints subtle, nor his gestures ignored or missed altogether. No, Rena and Bee (especially Rena) saw everything. Every look, every smile, every stray touch that Ladybug did not move away from, they saw it all. Queen Bee took this development for what it was and Chat Noir was almost certain she pitied him. Rena, however, she schemed. Oh, how she schemed.

“Don’t worry, Chat Noir, I’ve dealt with this kind of thing before,” she assured him with a solemnity usually reserved for veterans recalling former battles. “My best friend has the hots for this guy and is about as obvious as a sledgehammer to the face about it. All the girls in my class know. It’s ridiculous. But he hasn’t got a clue, the poor guy.” She shook her head. “But luckily for you, there’s no way Ladybug can be as dense.”

Chat Noir smiled uncertainly and Rena Rouge threw her arm around his shoulder. “Stick with me, kid, because I’m gonna help you sail this ship.”

“I—wait—what?” he squeaked.

“You’re adorable, oh my God. Okay, look, it’s simple. From what I’ve seen, you’ve been keeping it subtle. Good, okay, fine, that’s a good way to start. You laid the foundations, now it’s time to build on them. In other words, stop trying to clue her in and start sweeping her off her feet.”

“Um…how?”

“Chat…Chat…my darling, innocent Chat…I’m gonna clue you in on something about us girls.” She leaned towards his ear and he thanked his lucky stars that Ladybug was currently running with Bee several arrondissements away. “The fastest way to our hearts is through our hearts.”

He blinked. “What?”

“You have to show her you care about her. That you like her and not her…assets.”

Chat let out an undignified squawk at the implications and felt his face heat up. “I—I do not—for your information I am not—”

Rena cackled with glee and removed her arm from his shoulders, doubling over to hold her stomach. Chat stood there, flustered and confused and more than a little embarrassed. Assets. Assets?! Surely Ladybug didn’t think that he—well, okay, yes, he’d certainly noticed her body before, it was quite hard not to what with that suit of hers accentuating every curve and hiding nothing with its bright red material, and yes, she was beautiful, and yes, he’d felt certain bits of her pressed up against him again before in battle, but he’d never tried to cop a feel or—or…

Rena wiped at her eyes. “This is great.”

“No, it’s not!” he protested. “You just accused me of trying to get into her pants!”

The Fox straightened up, cocked her hip, and put her hand on it. “You wanna look me in the eye and tell me that getting in her pants isn’t a prospect for further down the road?”

What blood had finally retreated from his face returned with speed and vengeance. Well…quite so. He’d certainly fantasized about kissing her more than a few times and…and…

Oh, fuck, she had him.

His shoulders sagged in defeat. Rena winked. “Don’t worry. It’s perfectly normal. You’re a healthy teenager and you’ve got it bad for someone, of course that’s something you want eventually. What matters is that it isn’t your primary goal here. And, pfft, man, after that, literally no one is ever gonna convince me it ever was. Now you just need to prove that to her. Because, dude, let me tell you, guys in general have a reputation for only being after one thing and we girls know it.

“So, you need to show her that you’re interested in her as a person. That you genuinely care. Convince her that you’re in love and not just horny and you’ll be on your way. At the very least, she’ll have to actually consider what you’re offering her. From there, it’ll be up to her to decide if she wants to reciprocate or not.”

Chat Noir looked at her with awe and, if he was honest, a touch of fear. “How do you know so much about this?”

Rena Rouge grinned with all the slyness of her namesake and tossed her fluffy locks over her shoulder. “Oh, my sweet summer child.”

Of course, there was just one little problem in Rena’s grand plan, and it bothered him all the next day.

In the early days, Chat Noir himself had been…how did she put it? As subtle as a sledgehammer to the face. He’d given her little gifts, flirted, even recited poetry. Hell, the only thing he hadn’t done was whisked her off her feet and kissed her. He wasn’t sure how much more obvious he could be apart from flat out telling her she was his sun and moon and he treasured every moment he spent in her presence. …And since that definitely wasn’t an option, he’d tried to be subtler.

“Well there’s your problem!” Rena exclaimed, smacking her forehead. “You romantic dork. You were being too forward with her. Too…silly. Of course she wouldn’t take it seriously, she probably thought you were joking! Especially since you hadn’t known each other for all that long.”

“Yeah, I figured that one out for myself, thanks,” he grumbled, folding his arms.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. You’re not hopeless. You just need to find the middle ground.”

“What do you mean?”

“All that stuff you were doing before? Tone it down. This isn’t a cartoon and that kind of stuff doesn’t work in real life. Well, not on most girls and if Ladybug was an exception, you’d already know. She’s much too serious and down to earth for that.”

Chat Noir said nothing. She was right. Man, she was good at this. It was almost hard to remember that Rena hadn’t known either of them all that long. Of course, if she’d been a diehard fan of them, she probably had gleaned plenty of insight from past interviews and things. Combined with what she’d seen in person and her own knowledge of wooing and she was quite a formidable asse—er…ally.

“And…another thing.” Rena’s voice softened. “I know you’ve already thought about this…but there’s only so much the two of you can do without revealing your identities to each other.”

Chat Noir looked away. “The thought’s crossed my mind.”

“You know how seriously she takes being a hero.” Yes, he did, all too keenly. “There’s a very real possibility the two of you can’t happen until Papillon is gone. So, my advice, if you want to really convince her to give you a chance beforehand, you need to show her that you can be sensible about this.”

“Yeah,” he said slowly and nodded. “I get that. That’s…that’s good. I can do that. I think. I just…agh, how?” His hands dropped to his sides and he turned to face her. He didn’t know where this sudden surge of emotion was coming from or why he felt like he could trust her. He’d never had this kind of conversation with Nino before. “I just…I feel so much and I don’t know how to tell her without…going overboard, I guess.”

Rena smiled sympathetically and patted him on the shoulder. “Slow down,” she advised, “and don’t rush things. You’re in for the long haul and there will be plenty of time later to show her how much you love her.”

Chat Noir smiled to himself. He hadn’t told her that he was in love. But if it was really that obvious then how could Ladybug not see? Was Rena perhaps simply more observant?

“For now, take it easy and focus more on showing her your sincerity with smaller gestures. Like…uh…” Rena snapped her fingers. “Christmas! I know it’s weeks away but…never too early to start planning, right? Get her something special.”

Chat Noir considered this. Last Christmas, they’d exchanged presents a few days after the holiday since they’d opted to spend Christmas Eve with their families…and ended up fighting Pire Noel. But it had been pulling teeth just to convince her to do that. He’d been prepared to lavish her with gifts but he knew it would likely make her uncomfortable so he’d limited himself to €50 and tried to keep it as casual as possible.

“Something special, you mean?” he asked.

Rena Rouge nodded. “Something that shows you put thought into buying it, or making it, if you’re that type of person.”

“I’ve got the kwami of Destruction, remember?” He grinned.

“Truedat. So, something that shows you really thought about what to get her and about her. Don’t go too crazy, though. I don’t know how much money you have but, trust me, fancy jewelry is coming on way too strong. Remember: baby steps.”

Chat Noir nodded seriously. Christmas was five weeks away. That was plenty of time to find her something. He could do this. Totally.

…How hard could it be?