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honey-dewey · 3 years

Text

Superheroes Don’t Take Sick days

Pairing: Marcus Moreno/Reader

Word Count: 2,190

Warnings: Marcus gets sick with the flu and suffers the symptoms, including vomiting and passing out.

Marcus rarely gets sick. However, when he does, it’s bad. Very bad. Plagued by the flu, he has no one to turn to. No one except his PA and significant other, who demands he goes home to rest. When he refuses, they decide to take matters into their own hands.

“Mr. Moreno?” You knocked on the door to Marcus’s office, a stack of folders cradled in your arms. “Mr. Moreno?”

“Come in.”

You kicked the door open with your foot, doing your best to balance the various paperworks. Marcus lifted his head off his desk, staring at you. “How many times do I have to ask you to just call me Marcus?”

“We are at work,” you pointed out, setting the folders on Marcus’s desk. “At work, I address you formally. Because it is, say it with me now, a formal work environment.”

Marcus grumbled under his breath, opening the folder on top. “Huh. This is,”

“A lot?” You finished for him, leaning on the edge of the desk and examining Marcus. He looked exhausted, shoulders slumped in and head bowed slightly. His glasses sat on the desk next to his phone, both of which were smudged to the high heavens. You grabbed his glasses and instinctively began to clean them, knowing he hated doing it himself. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yep!” Marcus said, leaning back and pressing his palms into his eyes. “Just tired. Missy was up all night, and so was I.”

You put Marcus’s glasses down. “Oh no! What happened?”

Marcus shrugged. “She’s just sick.”

You raised an eyebrow. “She’s sick,” you repeated, a familiar exasperation in your voice. You loved Marcus a lot and knew that he was super smart, but sometimes he could be really thick when it came to common sense.

“Yeah?” Marcus looked up at you, clearly confused. “Why are you using that tone?”

“Marcus,” you said plainly. “You are also sick. Go home.”

“I’m not sick!” Marcus insisted, putting his glasses on and moving closer to his desk.

You nodded, sliding off his desk. “I’m going to go grab Dr. Thirteen. We’ll see who’s right.”

The walk down to the medical wing of the building was quick, considering it was just below the offices. The doctor, a wonderful young blonde woman with an accent so thick you could hardly understand her half the time, agreed to come with you to check Marcus out.

“He did seem rather under the weather earlier,” she said as you two walked. “Came in asking for DayQuil.”

You swore under your breath. “I swear, if he’s got something serious I will murder him.”

Thirteen laughed, opening Marcus’s office door. “Oh boy.”

Marcus looked up, yet again, from his desk. He’d been using his arms as a pillow, glasses off once more. “Hey Thirteen.”

“Marcus,” Thirteen chided, going over to stand next to him. He kicked his chair around so he was facing her, letting her do her job. “How’re you feeling?”

“Uh.” Marcus looked from her to you and back again. “Like shit?”

Thirteen sighed, taking her stethoscope out of her coat pocket and setting it around her neck. “Feverish?” She asked, resting her wrist against Marcus’s forehead.

“Little bit.”

“Cough?”

“Yeah.”

“Congested?”

“Definitely.”

Thirteen made a face. “Nausea?”

Marcus started to get nervous, hands twisting in his lap. “Yes?”

“Okay.” Thirteen looked at you. “Take him home, by any means necessary. I’ll tell the boss, but he’s on medical leave for the next week, with recommended bed rest for forty eight hours.”

“What?” Marcus said. “But I don’t feel that bad.”

Thirteen shrugged. “You will. You have the flu, which is unsurprising given the season.”

“Oh.” Marcus looked at his desk, eyeing the folders stacked up on it. “Can I stay and finish my work?”

“No,” you and Thirteen said at the same time.

Marcus sighed. “Fine. I’ll go home. Coming with?” He directed the last question at you, and you nodded.

“Of course. If Missy’s sick too, then someone has to be there to take care of you. Also, I don’t want you driving.”

You managed to herd Marcus to the car with little issue, but he really didn’t look good. You had to repeat yourself three times when you asked him to put his seatbelt on, and he kept getting paler and paler until you were actually really worried.

“We’re gonna make a stop at CVS,” you said, turning into the parking lot. “If you go in, you have to wear a mask.”

Marcus, ever the stubborn hero, staggered to his feet and went somehow even paler, the last bit of color draining from his face as he wobbled in place.

“And we’re gonna leave you here,” you said, standing in front of him and crossing your arms.

“But,” Marcus said, his voice thick with congestion.

You cut him off before he could continue. “You wanna walk by yourself through CVS? Okay, let’s see it then.” You positioned yourself barely ten feet away, maybe three or four steps. Marcus shakily shuffled forward before almost toppling right over. You caught him, turning him back towards the car.

“No, put your hand- oh my god! Marcus!”

Marcus didn’t respond. He’d gone entirely limp in your arms, eyes rolled back. You got him back into the car, and by then, he’d woken back up, still delirious.

“I’m going in,” you said slowly, buckling Marcus back in. “I am cracking the windows and locking the car. Sit tight, I’ll be right back.”

Just as promised, it was the fastest CVS run you’d ever made. Some Gatorade, medication, tissues, Clorox wipes, Lysol spray, and a few cans of soup later, you were back in the car. Marcus looked over, eyes half open. “Huh?”

“If you’re like this,” you said, starting the car. “I hate to think what Missy’s like back home.”

Missy was not as bad as Marcus. Laying on the couch, she barely had the energy to turn her head as you practically carried Marcus inside, but she was conscious, which you appreciated. “Dad?”

You winced at her scratched up voice. “Hey honey,” you said, laying Marcus in his recliner. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like crap,” Missy admitted. “Dad said it was probably just the sniffles or something, but then it got worse.”

Nodding, you handed Missy a box of tissues, nudging the trash can closer to the couch with your foot. “I don’t think it’s just the sniffles this time,” you said. “Where’s the thermometer?”

You took Missy’s temperature. She was at 100.7, which you decided could’ve been so much worse. You gave her a decongestant and a Gatorade, rubbing her back as she coughed violently.

“Marcus,” you said, standing. Marcus hummed in acknowledgment.

“Here.” You handed him the thermometer. “Take your temperature.”

You turned back to Missy, who was zoned out. “Missy, honey, let me clean your blanket.”

She grumbled as you took the filthy blanket, muttering out that she was cold.

“I know you’re feeling cold,” you said, tossing the blanket in the laundry. “But your blanket is dirty. I’ll grab you a clean one.”

As you gave Missy a new blanket, you heard the thermometer beep, Marcus pulling it out of his mouth and looking at it.

“Let me see,” you said, holding a hand out.

Marcus tucked the thermometer to his side. “Just 100, like Missy.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Give me the thermometer.”

“But-“

“Marcus Moreno, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll give me that thermometer.”

Marcus handed the thermometer over, a guilty look on his face.

The thermometer read 101.5.

“Marcus!” You scolded, putting the thermometer down and pressing your wrist to his forehead. Sure enough, he was burning up. “No wonder you passed out earlier!”

Missy looked up. “He passed out?”

“In the CVS,” you said, grabbing another blanket for Marcus. “No biggie.” You really didn’t want to worry her, even though it definitely was a big deal.

By noon, everyone was sound asleep aside from you. You were sitting in the living room with a book, listening to Marcus’s and Missy’s labored breathing. Every so often, Missy would kinda wake up and shift, but Marcus remained solidly asleep until noon.

You put your book down, hearing Missy wake up as you rummaged through the kitchen. Grabbing a saucepan and a can of soup, you began to make lunch.

Missy trudged to her feet, joining you in the kitchen. “Hey.”

“Hey sweetie,” you said, checking her temperature. “Your fever’s finally starting to break.”

Missy perked up a bit at that. “Do I have time to go shower?”

“Sorry,” you said, stirring the soup. “Nope. After lunch though, absolutely.”

Missy ended up eating at the table, her blanket still around her shoulders. You, instead of joining her, did your level best to wake Marcus up.

“Marcus.” You shook his shoulder slightly. “Marcus. Darling. Sweetheart. Light of my fucking life. Missy do not ever repeat that! Marcus! Christ, what the hell?”

Marcus’s eyes cracked open. “The fuck?” He slurred. “Missy, don’t repeat that.”

Missy snorted and left to go bathe.

“I made lunch,” you said, holding up the bowl of soup you’d made for him. “Eat.”

“Not hungry.”

You raised an eyebrow, and yet again, Marcus shrunk back with that horribly guilty look.

“Fine,” he said softly, taking the bowl and fumbling with his spoon. You were on standby, which was a good thing, because barely ten minutes into the small bites of soup, Marcus startled to his feet, fell to his knees, and threw up on the carpet.

“Shit!” You yelled, helping Marcus away from the now dirtied carpet patch. “Oh fuck. Marcus, you okay?”

Marcus shook his head, eyes full of tears.

“Oh baby,” you said softly, hugging him and helping him up onto the couch. “Babe, hey, it was an accident. You’re gonna be okay, you hear me? Just fine. It’ll pass.”

Marcus clung to you, sobbing openly. You rubbed his back, letting him bury himself in your shirt.

At one point, Missy came back, peering into the living room. “Dad?”

You shook your head, waving her away. She glanced from Marcus to the carpet and then back again. “Oh. Okay.”

Eventually, you managed to get Marcus calm. He sniffled, wiping his eyes, and you laid a soft kiss on his forehead. “Marcus, darling, stay here. I’m gonna clean the carpet, okay?”

Marcus nodded, hugging a pillow tight as you got up to grab the cleaning supplies. He watched with half open eyes as you cleaned the carpet, never once complaining.

When you finally stood, he made a small noise, drawing your attention. “I love you.”

You smiled. “I love you too Marcus.”

Everything in the Moreno household was calm throughout the rest of the day. Missy was getting better, able to make a phone call to Anita to reassure her that she and Marcus were okay. Marcus wasn’t feeling much better, so you and him cuddled on the couch, his head resting on your chest as you absently scratched through his hair. He napped for a bit, occasionally waking up and complaining he felt gross. You pointed out that he was still sick and encouraged him to drink more Gatorade before he fell asleep again.

Dinner was more soup, at which Marcus complained.

“Oh hush,” you said, putting the bowl in front of him. “Do not waste your voice complaining about soup you cannot taste.”

Marcus stuck his tongue out at you and took another bite of soup.

Missy went to bed shortly after dinner, the sickness sapping her energy. You sent her off with a kiss to the forehead and a promise to call the school and tell them she wouldn’t be going tomorrow.

“And you, mister,” you said, sitting next to Marcus on the couch and turning on Wheel of Fortune. “Aren’t going to work for the next week.”

“What?”

You smiled, feeling Marcus shuffle and lay in your lap. “You heard Thirteen this morning. Medical leave for a week.”

Marcus sighed, relaxing as you rubbed his shoulders. “Fine.”

Somehow, you two fell asleep on the couch, curled up in each other’s embrace. When you woke up the next morning, Marcus felt a bit better. But you had started to sniffle.

“Ha! Payback’s a bitch!” Marcus said when you took your temperature and sighed.

“Marcus. Sit the hell down before you pass out again.”

Marcus sat on the couch, a shit eating grin on his face. “Mhm. Kiss me.”

You raised an eyebrow, crawling across the couch until you were practically on top of Marcus. “Hmm,” you hummed, feeling his body heat underneath you. “Kissing you is what got me sick. I think not.”

You rolled off him, leaving one very betrayed boyfriend behind on the couch.

“Hey wait! You can’t just leave!”

Looking behind you, you smiled as sweetly as you could. “What? I don’t recall doing anything wrong Mr. Moreno.”

Marcus’s face twisted into a feral grin. “Oh you are so lucky that Missy’s in her room. Get over here.”

You laughed as he scooped you up, carrying you to your bedroom. “Marcus! You’re still sick! Be careful!”

Marcus plopped you down on the bed and quickly followed, trapping you under the warm blankets with his own body. “Get some rest,” he said softly. “You’re gonna need it.”

“Oh Marcus,” you said, thumbing over the patches in his facial hair. “I love you.”

“Love you too babe, now get some sleep.”

Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell

#we can be heroes #marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing

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clumsyclifford · 3 years

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Rian helping Alex to dye his hair!! And complain how it'll fall out and stuff just to mask how pretty he thinks it's gonna look

alright anon here it is! my rilex debut. i hope it does not disappoint. also full disclosure i have had my hair dyed Once for me and my friends did it and i do not remember most of what happened so while i did do some light google searches please suspend disbelief if and when you must

read it here on ao3

Rian should know more about dyeing hair. It seems impossible for him to have been in a band with Jack and Alex for this long and not pick up on the basics, at least. Standing in a CVS, Rian feels confident that he should know this.

"Should" being the operative word.

Finally he calls Alex.

"I forgot which brand you said," he tells Alex when he gets yeah?

"I texted it to you, you moron," Alex replies. He sounds very fond. It's always fun to hear Alex try and be bitchy when he's really just being fond.

Sighing, Rian pulls his phone away from his ear and checks his texts. "No you didn't."

"I definitely did." Pause. "Oh, it didn't go through. Whoops."

"Who's a moron now?"

"Still you. I told you the name like fifty times. Okay, it sent. If you get the wrong color, no offense but our friendship is over."

"Gotcha," says Rian. "So was it bright orange or more of a burnt umber that you wanted?"

Alex hangs up on him. A minute later he calls back.

"Love you," he says.

Rian rolls his eyes and grins. "Love you."

"Isn't it kind of disrespectful to do this in a hotel room bathroom?"

Alex doesn't stop setting up the hair dye supplies on the sink, but he does shoot a dry look towards Rian. "Yeah, duh. But it's just hair dye. Worst case scenario it stains the tub or something."

"Or the floor," Rian puts in. "Or your hair all burns off from the bleach and you sue and then there's a whole court case. That'd be pretty bad for them."

"But dope for me," Alex says. "So wins all around."

Not wins for the hotel, Rian doesn't say. He's not sure why he's bothering to try and convince Alex that they shouldn't do this. Not only is Alex thoroughly unable to be convinced, Rian doesn't even think he believes himself.

It's just, Alex is dyeing his hair blue.

Rian tries not to form opinions, like, about Alex in specific, because in general his opinion is wow and good-looking and would love to kiss him and AHHHHH, and those opinions don't really change with Alex's look. Even in the most emo of Alex's hair days, Rian had been very much extremely attracted to him, and Alex has only gotten cuter since then. It will probably become a problem eventually. Rian suspects it might already be a problem that he's just ignoring very effectively.

It's not like he only likes Alex for his looks. Alex has lots of wonderful qualities, and Rian could easily wax poetic for hours. It's just that it would probably be easier not to fall in love with him if he was a little less what they in the music business called Fucking Gorgeous.

But no dice. Obviously.

All of which to say: helping Alex dye his hair blue cannot possibly end well for Rian. Alex has yet to do blue, but Rian is one hundred percent sure it's going to look as good as all the other colors have, and he's just going to find himself speechless for a couple minutes again. Which hadn't been a problem before, when Alex had gotten Jack to do it with him, but for some reason this time he's enlisted Rian, and Rian has yet to find within himself the capacity to refuse anything Alex requests, within (and sometimes without) reason.

Speaking of which: "Why isn't Jack helping you with this? Don't you think he'd be, like, a thousand times more competent? I mean, I wouldn't usually say that about Jack, but this is so not my area of expertise."

Alex huffs, opening the box of dye. "Well, for starters, Jack is busy with Zack, and they are probably banging and/or playing a board game and/or getting wasted and/or doing things that I can't even fathom because Jack and Zack are ineffable," which takes Rian a long moment to process but none of which is technically implausible or untrue, "and second, I wanted your help."

"Yeah, no, I got that when you told me you wanted my help," Rian says dryly. "What I'm wondering is why."

Alex frowns in judgement as he mixes the dye. "What's with all the questions? I just like hanging out with you, man. Do I need a better reason?"

Rian clears his throat. "Uh. I guess not."

"Damn right." Alex gives Rian a smile, and a small part of Rian melts, and he thinks about how much of a naive idiot he's been that he didn't realize how much of a problem this would be until right now. When it's too late. "Okay. Gloves on, Ri. It's gonna get messy up in here."

There's no way that innuendo is unintentional, and Rian is a sucker because he blushes anyway.

Apparently it's just a matter of painting. Which is much easier said than done. Not because painting dye onto hair is particularly challenging, but because Rian painting dye onto Alex's hair is, well.

"One of these days you're gonna lose all your hair," he says at one point, mostly to distract himself from the look on Alex's face as he works the dye through his hair with his crinkly-plastic-gloved fingers. That look is putting Rian's mind in places it should not be.

Fortunately, this comment alters it, and Alex opens his eyes. "I don't dye my hair that much."

Rian gives him a critical look. "Yeah, but still. This stuff can't be good for you. Even if you don't use it a lot."

"You know what else isn't good for me?" Alex says seriously. "Alcohol. Tattoos. Sex before marriage. Rebellion is hot. What kind of punk rocker are you?"

"I'm sorry it's not punk to be worried about your friends," Rian replies. "Doesn't it burn your head?"

"Nah," Alex says, closing his eyes again. "Feels nice."

"How the fuck does putting — I don't even know what's in this stuff — feel nice?"

"It's more about the experience," Alex says around a smile. "You putting the dye in my hair, it feels nice."

Awesome. Rian's fine.

"Oh," he mumbles, and then decides that not talking is in his best interest.

Rian is thorough with his task. If that means he goes twice through all of Alex's hair, it's because he's being extra careful.

(By the second time, Alex has begun humming along to the Motion City Soundtrack song playing from his phone on the sink top, and Rian is distracted for a little (long) while.)

With the shower cap on, Alex actually looks kind of dumb, which is a relief. The timer is nearly done ticking down from thirty minutes and Paramore is singing about how the camera's lying as Alex stares at himself in the mirror, using a washcloth to wipe off the smudges of rogue dye on his forehead.

Rian should stop watching, but there's something very captivating about the intensity of Alex's demeanor. It's not about what he's doing so much as the manner in which he's doing it, and God, Rian would give all the money in the world for Alex to look at him with that same attentiveness, even though he would probably just disintegrate if it ever did happen.

Rian was once a dignified man. He's not sure what happened but he's certain it's Alex's fault.

"Hey, Ri," Alex says. "Can you help me with this? I can't get this fucking dye off my face."

You're doing fine, Rian absolutely does not say, and instead says, "Yeah, sure. Although you might wanna think about just leaving it. I really think you could start a trend with this."

"Yeah?" Alex says, passing off the wet washcloth to Rian. "What, a trend of wearing hair dye on your face?"

"Dyed face is the new dyed hair," Rian says, grinning. He hesitates for a moment and then resigns himself to what he knows has to happen. "Don't move or talk or breathe or anything like that," he tells Alex, sliding a hand around Alex's neck to keep his head in place.

"Don't breathe?"

"What did I just say about talking and breathing?" Rian holds up the washcloth like a weapon. "Shut your mouth."

Alex presses his lips together and mimes locking them. He slips the imaginary key down the front of Rian's shirt. Rian snorts and begins his efforts to clean the dye off Alex's face. It's probably not going to go away for a little while, and they'll need to cover it with makeup, and Rian knows that, and surely Alex knows that too, so he's not sure why they're even bothering with this.

But. The position they've found themselves in is as compromising as it is tempting; Rian keeps his eyes firmly on the washcloth in his hands so they don't flit around Alex's face or land too often on his mouth. He could give himself away far too easily right now.

(He would like to. He would love to. If he kissed Alex right now, would Alex kiss him back? Would Alex have put them in this position as a joke? Is Alex a heartless monster or just a friend who thinks they're just friends? Are they just friends? Do they have to be? Could hair dye be mixed with glue to make colorful glue or does it only work on hair? All these questions and more crowd Rian's mind. It's a wonder he ever gets anything done.)

Eventually, though, Rian has to admit he's not going to get this dye off Alex's skin, and he doesn't want to hurt Alex. He sighs and drops his hand to his side, curling the washcloth in his fist. "Sorry, Al. You're gonna have to start that trend whether you like it or not."

Alex doesn't look even slightly disappointed. "That's cool," he says, smiling at Rian, smiling only for Rian, in a way that paralyzes Rian and renders him momentarily unable to respond. "It's kinda hot, in a subversive way. You know?"

Rian swallows. "Huh?"

"I mean, objectively being punk isn't hot compared to mainstream hot people, but there's something inherently hot about doing exactly what you're not supposed to. That's the whole point of punk." Rian's pretty sure punk has an additional, slightly larger point, but at the moment it's slipping his mind. "So like, this is hot in the sense that it's not what you'd expect to be hot. But I kind of make it work, don't you think?"

I think you kind of make this shower cap work, so I'm not exactly an unbiased authority on the matter, Rian keeps to himself. "Are you asking if I think you look hot with blue hair dye on your face?" he says, neutrally, trying not to give away that he does think Alex looks hot with blue hair dye on his face.

But Alex just meets Rian's gaze and says, "Yeah, that's exactly what I'm asking."

A moment passes. Rian realizes he never reclaimed his hand and it is now just kind of cradling Alex's neck where it meets his shoulder. Another moment. Alex keeps his eyes steady on Rian's. Neither of them move. Rian starts to feel his heartbeat and wonders how he never notices when he's not feeling it. It's only startling to feel it because it's so quiet usually. People should be able to feel their own heartbeats, all the time. Then it wouldn't be such an inconvenient surprise any time it kicks to life with a thudding intensity that almost makes Rian flinch.

It's not like he can lie. Morality aside, because Rian doesn't like to lie, he also knows Alex will see through him like glass.

Which leaves him with the truth as his only option, and unfortunately it's been too long since Alex asked for the truth to sound anything but incredibly guilty coming from Rian.

Well.

"If anyone is going to make it work," he says at last, "it's you."

Alex raises his eyebrows. "Way to not answer the question."

"I basically did."

"You completely didn't."

"Why do you care if I think it's hot? You don't need to impress me. I'm already in your shitty band."

"Maybe I'm trying to impress you for something that isn't the band," Alex says evenly, with an impressive degree of confidence, but Rian can feel his heart rate rise under his fingertips.

He has the presence of mind to think, what the fuck is going on? But instead of that, he says, "Like?"

Alex bites his lip. Rian thinks that if he's reading this right, it will flip everything upside down, but surely even he couldn't read a situation this wrong. There's nothing else Alex could possibly mean by this, right?

"I take it back," Rian says. "Dumb question."

"A little," Alex says, breathing a nervous laugh. There's a dangerously small amount of space between the two of them, the kind of small that Rian could bridge so easily, and with no reason not to, he figures there's not much more he can lose.

(He can't be misreading this. There's just no way. Alex isn't this cruel, and Rian isn't this stupid.)

Alex leans closer when Rian does, breath mingling in the air between them, so so so close, like insanely close, like Rian can practically taste it already, how impossible and incredible it's going to be to kiss Alex. The air catches in his throat, and he kind of smiles a little hesitantly, and Alex smells so much like hair dye that it is overpowering all of Rian's senses but he'd love to drown in that smell as long as it means drowning in Alex and their noses brush and Rian lets his eyes fall shut and then

The timer goes off, blaring an aggressive alarm throughout the bathroom, and Rian almost has a heart attack as he jerks backwards and he is going to fucking break his phone into many many pieces.

They're quiet as Rian rinses the dye out of Alex's hair. The worst part is Rian can't quite figure out what kind of silence this is, if it's awkward or anticipatory or what. But thinking for too long makes him want to scream or something, so he stops thinking and just focuses on washing out the dye. Alex is sitting in a chair they pulled in from the room, head tipped back under the sink, that same look on his face that —

But Rian's not thinking about it.

The water starts out bright blue, and Rian almost panics before Alex says lightly, "You just have to rinse until the water runs clear. Don't freak out if it's blue, that's normal."

So Rian does not freak out when the water is blue, and true to Alex's word, it starts to grow clearer the more Rian lets it run. If it were Alex in his position he would probably have a thousand poetic things to say — it's like life, he'd say in a tone just shy of pretentious, it starts out looking like it's going wrong but then everything literally becomes clear — but Rian isn't Alex and to him it's just a Good Sign that he hasn't Fucked Up.

Well he hasn't fucked up the hair, at least. Probably. Yet.

At long last, the water starts running clear, and Rian breathes a sigh of relief and turns the tap off. "You're good," he says, wringing the worst of water out of Alex's hair. His hands are stained blue, he now notices; probably he should have put the gloves back on when he'd gone to rinse Alex's hair, but he hadn't thought to.

"Yeah?" Alex asks, experimentally lifting his head and stretching his neck. "Ah, that is not the most comfortable position, not gonna lie."

Rian grabs the hand towel and dries his hands off, then gives it to Alex so Alex can dry his neck, which Alex does, and then leaves the towel around his shoulders. They are definitely going to get dye on this towel and the hotel will not be pleased, but as Alex stands up and begins rearranging his hair to look like himself again, the comment dies in Rian's throat.

Predictably, he looks really fucking good.

Rian watches Alex like some kind of lovestruck idiot until Alex turns to him, tilting his head, and says, "So? Final thoughts? How do I look?"

"Can I kiss you now?" Rian says, surprising himself. "That's what was about to happen before, right? Like, I'm not insane?"

"Your sanity has nothing to do with whether or not we were gonna kiss," Alex says, grinning, eyes bright, "but we totally were and now we definitely are."

This time Rian wastes no time, and his dye-stained fingers blend into the blue oasis of Alex's new hair color as their lips meet. Briefly, Rian's mind is once again crowded with dumb pointless questions, but he pulls Alex closer and Alex curls a hand into the front of Rian's shirt and Rian decides that his mind can take a hike.

As they break apart, Alex laughs. "So you think it looks good?"

"It looks terrible," Rian deadpans. "Yes, of course it looks good. You could shave your head and it would look good." Alex gasps. "Well. Okay. That was an exaggeration to make a point but I'm not sure it's actually true. But honestly, Alex." The jig is up, so Rian just smiles at him. "I always fucking think you look good. This?" He tugs at Alex's hair. "Hot. No doubt."

"Well, that's the only vote of confidence I need," Alex breathes, and then they're kissing again.

(The hair dye leaves its mark on the towel and Rian's hands and the pillowcases they sleep on that night, but its impact, in Rian's opinion, is altogether immeasurable. It's not every day a box of blue hair dye gets him a boyfriend.)

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silence-burns · 5 years

Text

Please Hate Me //14

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on "Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki." by @thefandomimagine

"I beg your pardon?" Loki blinked.

The man standing in front of you with a huge grin on his face looked like the leader of whatever this group was. He had a wide, unpleasant face and something in his eyes that said he was not joking.

"You, my precious darlings, are going to make me and my men very rich," he repeated with grim satisfaction.

How lovely.

"Well," you felt obligated to notify him, "I admit I might have taken a few ballet classes in the past, but I seriously doubt it’s going to profit you much."

His grin faltered.

"I'm going to sell you," he explained slowly, as if speaking to a dim-witted child. "And that scum too."

'That scum' felt insulted. He gasped, dramatically. He'd use hands for a greater effect, but they'd already been tied behind his back.

"I doubt that's the right way to treat your most valuable stock," he scolded the man.

"It's bold of you to assume you're more valuable than me," you sneered.

"Oh, dear. I must've forgotten how those ballet classes influenced your price."

The men stared dumbfounded between the two of you. This type of behavior was certainly not what they had expected and were used to, but the fault was on their side for not reading the manual before making a purchase. It would have allowed them to avoid the grave mistake of kidnapping both Loki and you at the same time.

"Are you guys serious?" the leader asked, his smile gone, hopefully forever. If anyone asked your opinion, he gave off very creepy vibes when he smiled. It was a relief to see a less intimidating expression on his face. It was not enough to make him pretty, but at least covered his yellowed teeth.

"Duh. But the real question is," you narrowed your eyes. "Are you?"

He wanted to say something to that. He really did, from the looks of it. He must have been smarter than you originally gave him credit for, though, because after a moment of consideration, he came to a very bright conclusion that nothing he could say would make much of a difference.

He turned to his men and pointed at two of them. "You keep an eye on those idiots."

And then he left, without any goodbye. What was even worse, he took the rest of his (probably underpaid) employees and left the warehouse, no doubt to take care of the rest of his shipping.

It was such a shame only two of his men were left. It was almost as if you were deemed unworthy of more supervision. You wondered how this could have happen. It was such a mystery.

"You truly are wicked," Loki mused, something like amusement glinting in his eyes.

"Aww, thank you!"

"That was not a compliment. It was more of a reminder that the situation we are currently struggling with is a direct consequence of your poor decision-making."

"That hurt my feelings."

"You don't look hurt."

"I don't have many feelings, so I guess it didn't have much of an effect on me…"

One of the men left to keep an eye on you finally lost his patience.

He didn't have many distinctive traits, and certainly not ones that could deem him as a comic villain, sadly. If anything, he was ordinary enough to be a perfect example of how much truth hides in the old saying of not judging a book by its cover. A real Joe Schmo.

"Can you two just stop?" he snapped. His friend sighed. "You are so annoying; I want to kill you myself!"

"I doubt it would get you the title of 'Employee of the month', friend."

He pointed a finger at you, with all the anger he could muster in his ordinary body.

"We are not friends, you don't even have any idea who we are!"

Loki scoffed. How he managed to give off a nobility aura while still in shackles, was beyond your comprehension. "Of course we don't know. None of you had enough manners to introduce yourselves."

"My friend says you're rude," you explained in a dramatic whisper upon the man's stunned, although deep red, face.

Loki turned to you with a charming smile that did little to hide the murderous intent flashing in his eyes.

"We are not friends," he stated with every ounce of confidence he possessed. He possessed a lot of it.

"Of course we are, we even have friendship bracelets."

"Those are not friendship bracelets."

The most ordinary man you'd ever met scoffed. "Who wears friendship bracelets anymore?"

"I do," you informed him calmly. "And I am very proud of it. They make me feel even closer to my absolute best buddy in the world. Worlds, I mean."

"Come any closer and I'll show you my friendship," Loki growled through the teeth. The shackles on his arms clinked, but didn't let him go.

The ordinary man, Joe Schmo, seemed tired. He eyed his gun, but apparently decided whatever he'd do with it was not worth his boss's wrath.

He definitely looked underpaid. He couldn't even afford any mask or a suit that would make him look like a formidable enemy for once in his life. Without it, you couldn't help but imagine him as an overworked accountant that decided to take a part-time job as a human trafficker, or at least working for one. Even the way he paced nervously through the warehouse showed how little experience he possessed when it came to dealing with problematic individuals.

You loved to be a problematic individual.

His friend, on the other hand, the man who decided to lean on one of the warehouse walls and assess you quietly, seemed like a much more intriguing lad. Without seeing his CV it was difficult to measure his experience in the branch, but if you had to give one of them a pay raise, he seemed more qualified to get it. At the very least, he knew the basic rule of not talking to the cargo.

But all in due time. It would be rude to divide your attention between such wonderful people.

You turned back to Joe. His ordinary hair was already plastered to his head.

Loki eyed you suspiciously. It was just a quick side glance, not meant to bring too much attention to the gesture.

The emotions he felt and let be heard in his voice were real. It was also true that he'd prefer to be stuck there alone. He had a very strong feeling that his situation would then improve drastically, although he wasn't sure how exactly.

For once, it would certainly be easier to think about a way out in peace. He didn't intend to stay there for a second longer than was absolutely necessary, and without your… assistance, it surely would be a shorter inconvenience.

But it was also true that even though you proved to be a talker in the past days, you never seemed so… focused and confident on achieving something?

Loki blinked. It almost looked as if you actually had a plan and were in the middle of realizing it.

It also looked like you riled Loki and the man up on purpose and were using all the chaos to cover for something.

Unbelievable.

The end must be near.

Meanwhile, the ordinary man took a deep breath that did little to calm him down.

"One more word and I'm going to find a gag and silence you," he warned you.

"Oh, but there's an easier way to do that. You can always just buy my silence for 10 bucks."

"You know what? Fine."

Loki watched with amusement as the man fished through his pockets for any spare change.

"I've got like… 3."

You clicked your tongue with disappointment. "I'm sorry, but today is not a Discount Tuesday."

He cursed and threw the hard coins into your face. "Screw you!" He turned to Loki. "And you!"

And then he walked to the other man and told him he needed a breather. Just a few minutes to put himself together. He wasn't told it would be so difficult.

And then he left.

The revelation hit Loki without as much as a warning.

That was not only a plan.

It was a brilliant one.

Taglist: @writerjmlove @drakonwild @eeveesjourney @lokislilcaribbeanprincess @oatballsoffury @inumorph @ejectur @nerdybabywrites @twhgirl @nikkoliferous @unlikelygalaxygiver @multifandomreaderinsertfanfics @dreamingofonceuponatime @iamfelixc @bluebunnlee @effmigentlywithachainsaw @sadwaywardkid @ravenclawpossum @waitforthehurricane @absentmindeduniverse @unicorniorosacomefrutillas

#Please Hate Me #Loki x reader #Loki x you #loki laufeyson x you #Loki laufeyson x reader #Loki/you #Loki/reader #Loki imagine #Loki #loki laufeyson #Marvel #Mcu

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thewonko · 5 years

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Symphogear XV Episode 2

Hey, it's episode 2! Thanks to a poor tag block I'm not going into this one completely blind; I know that Maria wears a suit at some point, and this knowledge has already undone me.

Cool, let's start with a recap of episode 1, because it's been a whole week since we saw all this last time

Ooh, OP. Is good

Piles of gas masks in OP are... not heartening

Hmm, lots of Kazanari family members here. I'm starting to worry about too many antagonists in one season.

Chris still honoring her parents at the shrine she made Genjuro buy for her in the first set of OVAs. I love that those are canon.

Aw, and a picture of all her friends at her birthday party. Chris has come a long way, hasn't she?

Hibiki being That Person and constantly reminding Chris of that super-great present she got that one time. Hibiki, we all love you dearly, but don't be That Person.

And Chris blushing at even the merest hint that she has friends. She's come a long way, but not that far.

Oh, and she's already in college. Saving the world probably pads your CV a bit for that, right?

Huh, apparently it's 2045. I'm surprised they still *have* winter

Maria in a suit. I am undone!

Also, Maria is wearing sunglasses indoors so that no one can tell she's staring at her girlfriend the whole time

Wait, what happened on the way back from the south pole? (they ask rhetorically, since it's going to be shown soon anyway) The point is that Tsubasa is having Doubts again, despite the fact that she's been through this exact thought process three times before.

Ah, and here's what happened on the way back from the south pole

The American carrier Thomas Whitmore... wasn't he...?

Yes. Thomas Whitmore was the president in Independence Day

I love that the default quick-deployment for Symphogear users is just "load them into a missile"

Kirika and Shirabe embracing and lovingly staring into each other's eyes as they prep for transformation: GAY

Kirika definitely putting those pole dancing lessons to good use, I guess.

And now they're doing catches and dips: GAAY

Honestly, I think this is Kirika's gayest song yet, which is saying something. I can't wait to hear it with Shirabe's so we can reach near-peak sapphic song

(for reference, peak sapphic song is the duet that Hibiki and Miku are going to have to have before the end of the season)

Ah, and here's our first new antagonist, ready to kick some ass

"An Alchemist!" shout four girls at exactly the same moment, as if they'd practiced

Kirika, you're in a very narrow corridor, why would you try to swing a scythe? (the answer is of course because Shirabe is the brains in the relationship, and she's busy fighting the new wolf girl)

"Symphogears made from destroying perfect life"... I remember something about Kirika's and Shirabe's 'gears being "irregular" somehow, and the relic names they have aren't actually relics, are they made from the body of an actual goddess?

Hah! Surprise yo-yo attack!

And here's Shirabe's song, also gay.

Wow, even when they're not in duet these to combine attacks. GAAAY

"I didn't lose! I was holding back!" Yeah, sure. Sorry, Eliza, you're not enough to beat back the GAAAAY that these two bring to the table

"Yeah, no, S.O.N.G., the entity founded to deal with relics and supernatural threats, isn't allowed to protect the corpse and relic, because of... Reasons I guess. Blame the US."

Oh look, it's Fudo Kazanari, the controlling dad to end all controlling dads. "I don't care if America nuked us again, you should've kept the corpse!"

Chris can just... show up behind Hibiki, can't she? But only to dunk on her.

Can I just say? I love these stupid and impractical concert hall designs.

ooh, shut up now, TsubaMari duet time

And they slide down a FUCKING WATER SLIDE to enter the venue. This is better than GX and its impossible wirework

Tsubasa, when Maria said she wanted to "sing all night with you", she was flirting, not offering to be in a concert with you. In short: GAAAAAY

I know this isn't the point here, but this was billed as a Kazanari Tsubasa solo concert, and now we've got Maria here, in an outfit, singing a song that was clearly written to be a duet. Was Tsubasa planning this, or does she just have a really good support team?

(probably the first, because GAAAAAAY)

"What does it mean to live/for my heart to beat? It's to play a song towards the future in a color that's your own". That line combined with the tagline this season of "Create a history, with the light that God could not know", plus there's more yellow being associated with Tsubasa here than... ever really. I could speculate, but instead I'll link an old post of mine and tell you to re-read the bits about citrinitas. Tsubasa's learning her Self.

Aaand... Alca-Noise attack. It's Zwei Wing all over again!

Ah, and the show draws that parallel too.

And it's our second new antagonist. Gotta' admit, she knows how to crash a party.

And here's a little girl, hiding from the battle. The Zwei Wing parallels continue.

Wow, that is... that's a lot of blood.

Oh, and they're showing the hole in the chest too. So much for gore censorship

"Seal Invasion" That can't be good.

So just a thought, the concert hall (or at least the concert) was called the "Roof of Heaven". What happened last time a tower tried to reach Heaven?

And the rest of the Wielders arrive too late. This is... I mean the only word that really fits is "bad", but that's not enough

Tsubasa drops her sword. She's giving up. This is... not good, given the color stuff from earlier.

And for the after-credits bit: Why didn't the americans think that putting a metal bracer into an MRI machine was a good idea? Admittedly, usually what happens with that is shrapnel damage, not vaporising a mummy, but this is (apparently) the future, who knows what can happen?

#Symphogear #symphogear xv #xv spoilers #I am getting a lot of mileage out of that alchemy theory

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