#(maybe also we can get the teenage boys some self defense classes)

[antiphrastic]

A little over a week ago, my twitter feed was taken over briefly by excited flailing about two Chinese comic boys kissing. I had never heard of them before, but everyone was like. SUPERSTOKED about it.

And I have little to nothing going on right now beyond waiting for the next round of tests my doctor wants to send me for and sleeping, so I decided to go in search of these boys.

Cue today, all of 8? 9? Days later, and I have read all 400+ pages of 19天 twice, I have been chronically refreshing the tag to see what folks are saying, i have been searching ao3, and ive got plans to embark on a third read through because I wanna see if He Cheng has always had that scar on his neck or if that's something that's only shown up more recently, and i have so many feelings and opinions, most prominently: someone please get all those teenage boys a therapist or four (so they don't have to share)

[fromkenari]

Behind the Read More are all the times Liam is mentioned in the book Red, White, and Royal Blue. It's sad and concerning for the majority of it. It includes negative coping mechanisms like alcohol, prescription drugs, and self harm and Alex and Liam being toxic to each other, even if it weirdly (inexplicably?) irons out in the end. Also, massive biphobia from Alex and Liam making it worse by lying to him.

“Look, you should have invited him yourself!” June says, by way of admission. “It’s really nice you’re making friends who aren’t us. Sometimes when you get too isolated, you start to go a little crazy. Remember last year when Nora and I were both out of the country for a week, and you almost got a tattoo?”

“I still think we should have let him get a tramp stamp.”

“It wasn’t going to be a tramp stamp,” Alex says hotly. “You were in on this, weren’t you?”

“You know I love chaos,” Nora tells him serenely.

“I have friends who aren’t y’all,” Alex says.

“Who, Alex?” June says. “Literally who?”

“People!” he says defensively. “People from class! Liam!”

“Please. We all know you haven’t talked to Liam in a year,” June says.

“You need friends. And I know you like Henry.”

“Shut up,” Alex says. He brushes a finger under his collar and finds his skin damp. Do they always have to crank the heat up this high when it’s snowing outside?

“This is interesting,” Nora observes.

“No, it’s not,” Alex snaps. “Fine, he can come. But if he doesn’t know anybody else, I’m not babysitting him all night.”

---

He thinks, as he runs and runs and runs, the stupidest thing of all is that he’s straight.

Like, he’s pretty sure he’s straight.

He can pinpoint moments throughout his life when he thought to himself, See, this means I can’t possibly be into guys. Like when he was in middle school and he kissed a girl for the first time, and he didn’t think about a guy when it was happening, just that her hair was soft and it felt nice. Or when he was a sophomore in high school and one of his friends came out as gay, and he couldn’t imagine ever doing anything like that.

Or his senior year, when he got drunk and made out with Liam in his twin bed for an hour, and he didn’t have a sexual crisis about it—that had to mean he was straight, right? Because if he were into guys, it would have felt scary to be with one, but it wasn’t. That was just how horny teenage best friends were sometimes, like when they would get off at the same time watching porn in Liam’s bedroom … or that one time Liam reached over, and Alex didn’t stop him.

---

He needs a list. So: Things he knows right now.

One. He’s attracted to Henry.

Two. He wants to kiss Henry again.

Three. He has maybe wanted to kiss Henry for a while. As in, probably this whole time.

He ticks off another list in his head. Henry. Shaan. Liam. Han Solo. Rafael Luna and his loose collars.

Sidling up to his desk, he pulls out the binder his mother gave him: DEMOGRAPHIC ENGAGEMENT: WHO THEY ARE AND HOW TO REACH THEM. He drags his finger down to the LGBTQ+ tab and turns to the page he’s looking for, titled with mother’s typical flair: THE B ISN’T SILENT: A CRASH COURSE ON BISEXUAL AMERICANS.

---

Faintly, under it all, it occurs to him: This is all a very not-straight way to react to seeing your male frenemy kissing someone else in a magazine.

A little laugh startles out of him, and he walks over to his bed and sits on the edge of it, considering. He considers texting Nora, asking her if he can come over to finally have some big epiphany. He considers calling Rafael Luna and meeting him for beers and asking to hear all about his first gay sexual exploits as an REI-wearing teenage antifascist. And he considers going downstairs and asking Amy about her transition and her wife and how she knew she was different.

But in the moment, it feels right to go back to the source, to ask someone who’s seen whatever is in his eyes when a boy touches him.

Henry’s out of the question. Which leaves one person.

“Hello?” says the voice over the phone. It’s been at least a year since they last talked, but Liam’s Texas drawl is unmistakable and warm in Alex’s eardrum.

He clears his throat. “Uh, hey, Liam. It’s Alex.”

“I know,” Liam says, desert-dry.

“How, um, how have you been?”

A pause. The sound of quiet talking in the background, dishes. “You wanna tell me why you’re really calling, Alex?”

“Oh,” he starts and stops, tries again. “This might sound weird. But, um. Back in high school, did we have, like, a thing? Did I miss that?”

There’s a clattering sound on the other side of the phone, like a fork being dropped on a plate. “Are you seriously calling me right now to talk about this? I’m at lunch with my boyfriend.”

“Oh.” He didn’t know Liam had a boyfriend. “Sorry.”

The sound goes muffled, and when Liam speaks again, it’s to someone else. “It’s Alex. Yeah, him. I don’t know, babe.” His voice comes back clear again. “What exactly are you asking me?”

“I mean, like, we messed around, but did it, like, mean something?”

“I don’t think I can answer that question for you,” Liam tells him. If he’s still anything like Alex remembers, he’s rubbing one hand on the underside of his jaw, raking through the stubble. He wonders faintly if, perhaps, his clear-as-day memory of Liam’s stubble has just answered his own question for him.

“Right,” he says. “You’re right.”

“Look, man,” Liam says. “I don’t know what kind of sexual crisis you’re having right now, like, four years after it would have been useful, but, well. I’m not saying what we did in high school makes you gay or bi or whatever, but I can tell you I’m gay, and that even though I acted like what we were doing wasn’t gay back then, it super was.” He sighs. “Does that help, Alex? My Bloody Mary is here and I need to talk to it about this phone call.”

“Um, yeah,” Alex says. “I think so. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Liam sounds so long-suffering and tired that Alex thinks about all those times back in high school, the way Liam used to look at him, the silence between them since, and feels obligated to add, “And, um. I’m sorry?”

“Jesus Christ,” Liam groans, and hangs up.

---

It starts to grow dark outside, a dull and soggy evening around the Residence, and Alex makes his way down to his room and his bed. He hears about the assortment of guys from Henry’s university days, all of them enamored with the idea of sleeping with a prince, almost all of them immediately alienated by the paperwork and secrecy and, occasionally, Henry’s dark moods about the paperwork and secrecy.

“But of course, er,” Henry says, “nobody since … well, since you and I—”

“No,” Alex says, faster than he expects, “me neither. Nobody else.”

He hears words coming out of his mouth, ones he can’t believe he’s saying out loud. About Liam, about those nights, but also how he’d sneak pills out of Liam’s Adderall bottle when his grades were slipping and stay awake for two, three days at a time. About June, the unspoken knowledge that she only lives here to watch out for him, the quiet sense of guilt he carries when he can’t tear himself away. About how much some of the lies people tell about his mother hurt, the fear she’ll lose.

---

He keeps waking up in DC, and Henry keeps waking up in London, and the whole world keeps waking up to talk about the two of them in love with other people. Pictures of Nora’s hand in his. Speculation about whether June will get an official announcement of royal courtship. And the two of them, Henry and Alex, like the world’s worst illustration of the Symposium: split down the middle and sent bleeding into separate lives.

Even that thought depresses him because Henry’s the only reason he’s become a person who cites Plato. Henry and his classics. Henry in his palace, in love, in misery, not talking much anymore.

Even with both of them trying as hard as they are, it’s impossible to feel like it’s not pulling them apart. The whole charade takes and takes from them, takes days that were sacred—the night in LA, the weekend at the lake, the missed chance in Rio—and records over the tape with something more palatable. The narrative: two fresh-faced young men who love two beautiful young women and definitely not ever each other.

He doesn’t want Henry to know. Henry has a hard enough time as it is, looked at sideways by his whole family, Philip who knows and has not been kind. He tries to sound calm and whole over the phone when they talk, but he doesn’t think it’s convincing.

When he was younger and the anxiety got this bad, when the stakes in his life were much, much lower, this would be the point of self-destruction. If he were in California, he’d sneak the jeep out and drive way too fast down the 101, doors off, blasting N.W.A., inches from being painted on the pavement. In Texas, he’d steal a bottle of Maker’s from the liquor cabinet and get wasted with half the lacrosse team and maybe, afterward, climb through Liam’s window and hope to forget by morning.

The first debate is in a matter of weeks. He doesn’t even have work to keep him busy, so he stews and stresses and goes for long, punishing runs until he has the satisfaction of blisters. He wants to set himself on fire, but he can’t afford for anyone to see him burn.

---

Alex is so busy watching them, his two favorite people, he doesn’t notice another person in his path until he collides with them headfirst, spilling their drink and almost sending them both stumbling into the massive victory cake on the buffet table.

“Jesus, sorry,” he says, immediately reaching for a pile of napkins.

“If you knock over another expensive cake,” says an extremely familiar whiskey-warm drawl, “I’m pretty sure your mom is gonna disinherit you.”

He turns to see Liam, almost the same as he remembers—tall, broad shouldered, sweet-faced, scruffy. He’s so mad he has such a specific type of dude and never even noticed it for so long.

“Oh my God, you came!”

“Of course I did,” Liam says, grinning. Beside him, there’s a cute guy grinning too. “I mean, it kind of seemed like the Secret Service were gonna come requisition me from my apartment if I didn’t come.”

Alex laughs. “Look, the presidency hasn’t changed me that much. I’m still as aggressive a party instigator as I ever was.”

“I’d be disappointed if you weren’t, man.”

They both grin, and God, on tonight of all nights it’s good to see him, good to clear the air, good to stand next to someone outside of family who knew him before all this.

A week after he got outed, Liam texted him: 1. I wish we hadn’t been such dumb assholes back then so we both could have helped each other out with stuff. 2. Jsyk, a reporter from some right-wing website called me yesterday to ask me about my history with you. I told him to go fuck himself, but I thought you’d want to know.

So yeah, of course he got a personal invitation.

“Listen, I,” Alex starts, “I wanted to thank you—”

“Do not,” Liam interrupts him. “Seriously. Okay? We’re cool. We’ll always be cool.” He makes a dismissive gesture with one hand and nudges the cute, dark-eyed guy at his side. “Anyway, this is Spencer, my boyfriend.”

“Alex,” Alex introduces himself. Spencer’s handshake is strong, all farmboy. “Good to meet you, man.”

“It’s an honor,” Spencer says earnestly. “My mom canvassed for your mom when she ran for Congress back in the day, so like, we go way back. She’s the first president I ever voted for.”

“Okay, Spence, be cool,” Liam says, putting an arm around Spencer’s shoulders. A beam of pride cuts through Alex; if Spencer’s parents were Claremont volunteers, they’re definitely more open-minded than he remembers Liam’s being. “This guy shit his pants on the bus on the way back from the aquarium in fourth grade, so like, he’s not that big of a deal.”

“For the last time, you douchebag,” Alex huffs, “that was Adam Villanueva, not me!”

,“Yeah, I know what I saw,” Liam says.

Alex is just opening his mouth to argue when someone shouts his name—a photo op or interview or something for BuzzFeed. “Shit. I gotta go, but Liam, we have, like, a shitload to catch up on. Can we hang this weekend? Let’s hang this weekend. I’m in town all weekend. Let’s hang this weekend.”

He’s already walking away backward, and Liam is rolling his eyes in an annoyed but fond way, not in a this-is-why-I-stopped-talking-to-you way, so he keeps going. The interview is quick, cut off mid-sentence: Anderson Cooper’s face looms on the screen overhead like a disgustingly handsome Hunger Games cannon, announcing they’re ready to call Florida.

---

The nets are cut loose from the ceiling, and down come the balloons, and Alex staggers into a press of bodies and his father’s chest, a delirious hug, into June, who is a crying disaster, and Leo, who is somehow crying more. Nora is sandwiched between both beaming, proud parents, screaming at the top of her lungs, and Luna is throwing Claremont campaign pamphlets in the air like a mafioso with hundred dollar bills. He sees Cash, severely testing the weight limits of the venue’s chairs by dancing on one, and Amy, waving around her phone so her wife can see it all over FaceTime, and Zahra and Shaan, aggressively making out against a giant stack of CLAREMONT/HOLLERAN 2020 yard signs. WASPy Hunter hoisting another staffer up on his shoulders, Liam and Spencer raising their beers in a toast, a hundred campaign staffers and volunteers crying and shouting in disbelief and joy. They did it. They did it. The Lometa Longshot and a long-awaited blue Texas.

---

The second round of confetti is still falling when Alex grabs Henry by he hand and says, “Follow me.”

Everyone’s too busy celebrating or doing interviews to see them slip out he back door. He trades Liam and Spencer the promise of a six-pack for heir bikes, and Henry doesn’t ask questions, just kicks the stand out and disappears into the night behind him.

[maybe-itll-be-someday]

Teenage Dreams

The one where someone disrespects Emily and Jack remedies it by punching them in the face.

Read on AO3

Emily was a great Mom.

Despite the fact that they weren't related by blood, she was the only mom he truly ever know. He never really knew his actual Mom since she had died so long ago now. He had snippets of memories, barely threads now since it's been over a decade since she passed, and the stories that his Dad would tell him. About how they first met in the Pirates of Penzance play in high school, how she supported him through law school and the Academy, and how she loved strawberry ice cream and will always love him.

But Emily had always been around, on the sidelines of his soccer games and baseball tournaments, wiping his tears and kissing his bandages when he scraped his knee or slammed his finger in the car door. They had gotten married almost five years ago now and it was only in the last three that Jack had insisted on calling her Mom.

"You're the only Mom I have." He had said when she was stunned into silence as he tested the moniker on his lips on a Wednesday afternoon. He doesn't think he'd ever seen Emily cry so hard before.

The only thing Jack Hotchner didn't really like about his mom, is all the snide comments and half whispers among his friends whenever they came over. He was aware that Emily was beautiful, if the way his Dad always told her was any indication.

It was after school and Mom had come to pick him up after his first soccer practice, his friends quickly starting to elbow each other as his Mom made his way towards them, still dressed from work with her FBI badge hanging off the side of her blazer.

"Hi sweetie." Emily greets. She smiled brilliantly at all his friends, some of whom quickly averted their eyes at the sight of her.

"Hey Mom. These are my teammates." He says, introducing her to the gangly group of teenagers who were either outright staring or doing everything in their power to not make any eye contact.

"I just need to go grab my stuff from the locker room. I'll meet you at the car?" Emily nods, knowing that now that Jack was getting older he was starting to enter the phase where everything his parents did embarrassed him, even if it was just something as simple as picking him up from practice. If Emily were a betting woman, she would wager a large amount of money that Jack wanted her to park down the street so his friends never saw her.

If only she knew exactly why Jack was keeping his friends far away from her.

His friends immediately start whispering to themselves as Emily makes her way back towards the parking lot to wait for Jack.

"That's his mom?"

"Holy shit."

"That is a MILF if I've ever seen one." Jack is quick to shoot an angry glare at his teammate, who at the stern look in Jack's eye, had the decency to look embarrassed before they made their way into the locker room.

Jack could still hear the rumblings among his friends, catching the words sexy and red from the direction of the showers. He tries to block it out, but he can feel the tips of his ears go read as his teammates swapped remarks about their list of hottest Moms and somehow, his own makes it on the list.

He's still bright red when he hops into the car, Mom with a concerned look on her face.

"Are you alright, Jack? You're not catching a fever, are you?" She frowns, checking his temperature with the back of his hand as he swats her away.

"Mom, I'm fine. It's nothing." Emily tuts, Jack's tone toeing the boundary between upset and disrespectful.

"Jack, you know that as a profiler I can tell when you're lying to me, right?" She says, her eyebrow raised and Jack grumbles to himself. Emily smiles at the muttered words, but for her benefit, she asks him to speak up.

"Sorry, what did you say?"

"I said yes ma'am, I am well-aware."

"And you also know that I won't force you to talk about anything unless you want to talk about it?"

A small smile breaks on Jack's lips. Mom never did push him to talk about anything, always just letting him know that she was available when he eventually did want to. Her only condition was that he would talk to her eventually, no matter how long that took. It was one of Jack's favorite things about her, since she could really calm his Dad down when he had that vein bulging from his neck whenever information was withheld from him.

"I'm aware of that too."

"As long as you know." She says, before turning up the radio and singing in an off-tune pitch to the latest pop song on the radio, clearly unaware of the actual lyrics or which key the song is supposed to be in.

Okay, maybe there were two things he didn't like about her.

--

The next time someone makes a comment about his Mom, they make it to Jack's face.

Dennis Smith was one of those kids you'd consider an outcast in school. Always dressed in torn jeans and black, followed by thin cronies who were too afraid to stand-up to the kids who picked on them so they ended up hiding behind a larger bully. He had been taunting Elliot, Jack's lab partner, for the past three weeks. Elliot had run into class that day, his shirt torn and bag half-opened as he rushed to sit next to Jack.

"Dude, what happened?" Jack asked when he spotted the torn pocket and the hastily stuffed belongings in his backpack. Some of his books were wet and if Jack had to guess, they had roughed him up in the boy's bathroom.

"Dennis." Elliot just mumbles, pulling out his notebook and cursing when he realizes that they took his wallet.

No one was going to pick on his friends if he could do something about it.

At least, that's what his Dad taught him.

So when Chemistry ends, he stalks Dennis and finds him bent over a water fountain, his friends chatting away while leaning on the locker next to him. Jack reaches over and taps him on the shoulder, a bewildered expression on Dennis' face.

"What do you want, Hotchner?" He spit out, puffing his chest to make him seem bigger than he actually was. Dennis didn't like him, since he was one of the only ones who wasn't scared of the bully. Jack found it hard to be scared of him, considering the fact that both of his parents were in the FBI and dealt with much scarier things than insecure teenage boys with an anger issue.

Jack crosses his arms, Elliot hiding behind him as he stares Dennis down.

"What's your problem with Elliot?" He asks flatly, interested in getting to the bottom of this. The hallway slowly starts to flood with students exiting their classes and the commotion causes a small crowd to form. In the corner of his eye, Jack can see cellphones being pulled out and aimed right at them.

"My problem is that little pipsqueak told Ms. Gardner that I was cheating." The bully stares directly at Elliot, who cowers further behind Jack despite the fact that Jack was only a few inches taller than him.

"But you were cheating."

"Well, if he learned to mind his own business, then maybe we wouldn't pick on him so much." Jack sizes Dennis up - he notices the muddy state of his shoes and pants that dangle just above his ankles, clearly too short for him. He smells faintly of body odor and some form of energy drink and if Jack had to guess, no one was providing him parental supervision at home.

He was angry, and had no one to direct that anger towards except for a student who was just doing his due diligence.

"Look, Dennis. I get it - your parents don't spend enough time with you, they leave you alone a lot, and you're angry about it. Can't you find something better to do with your time? Like actually studying so you don't need to cheat?"

Dennis flushes bright red and Jack turns and motions for Elliot to follow him. Hopefully, that would be enough to stop them from bullying Elliot. It's only then that he hears what Dennis mutters under his breath.

"Not all of us have a hot ass stepmom to tend to our every need. If I had a stepmom like that-"

Jack's fist connects with his nose, his knuckles flashing in pain at the contact. He feels a white hot rage spark under his skin, directed at anyone who would think to badmouth his family. The crowd gasps as Dennis falls to the floor, clutching his nose and yelping in pain. Jack flexes his knuckles and winces at the dull ache that settled in his joints. He freezes when he hears a familiar voice call out his name.

"Jack Hotchner!" Jack's eyes close and hopes that it isn't who he thinks it is.

He plasters a smile on his face and turns around, hiding his swollen hand behind his back.

"Hi Principal Gibbons."

--

"You are grounded for at least three months." Aaron says, his knuckles white around the steering wheel. It was just his luck that his Dad would be the one to pick him up. Apparently, Mom was off on a case with the BAU and Jack had a feeling she would be more understanding of him breaking Dennis' nose after fifth period.

After all, she was the one who signed him up for self-defense classes.

"What were you thinking Jack? Breaking a kid's nose?" His Dad had been furious upon arriving at the Principal's office. To the normal outsider, he looked calm, but Jack knew the fury that lay underneath. Dad had an excellent poker face and he managed to keep his anger under wraps until they got back into the car.

"He was being a dick."

"Language." His Dad warns and Jack sighs, knowing that swearing probably wasn't going to save him from the thin ice he was already on.

"Look, he was bullying my friend Elliot and I stood up to him."

"So, instead of talking it out, you punched him." Aaron says in disbelief and Jack shakes his head in frustration.

"No, I told him that his parents weren't around and that he was angry, so instead of picking on Elliot, he should just study."

There's a beat of silence.

"You profiled him?" Aaron curses the pride that blooms at the realization, not wanting Jack to get off that easy. After all, he did get suspended for three days and had to visit the school counselor with Dennis upon his return for 'mediation'.

"I did. Then I walked away."

"Then why did you punch him?"

"Because he said something about Emily." Jack's arms cross, his gaze out the window and Aaron sighs. He had been ecstatic when Emily came to him with tears in her eyes because Jack wanted to start calling her Mom. It was a decision that Aaron always left entirely up to Jack, not wanting to force him into feeling like they were replacing Haley since they were getting married. She had always been perfectly fine at being called Emily, not wanting to infringe on Jack's view of Haley. Jack only reverted back to calling her 'Emily' when he wanted to distinguish Emily and Haley.

Aaron lets the silence sit for a minute, his anger deflating. "What did he say?" He eventually asks.

"That not everyone had a hot ass stepmom to tend to their every need."

A different flash of anger runs through Aaron, his grip around the steering wheel tightening a little bit and his knuckles flashing white.

"That's why I punched him. I don't want anyone to talk about Mom like that."

Aaron lets out a breath, the last of his anger dissipating with Jack's words. He had always taught Jack to stand-up for those who couldn't stand up for themselves and he did just that. He stood up for Elliot and he stood up for Emily as well, not tolerating any disrespect for the people he cared about.

"Hot ass stepmom?" Aaron asks, a curious eyebrow raised.

"Oh Dad, you have no idea."

--

Emily comes back home to the angry marks on Jack's hand settling into purple and yellow bruises.

"You did what?"

"He punched a kid at school. He'll be suspended until tomorrow." Emily crossed her arms, disappointment in her expression. "Did this kid attempt to hit you first?"

Jack shook his head, hung low from the stare his Mom was baring into him. Aaron chuckles, rescuing Jack from what he is sure is a tongue lashing with a gentle hand placed on her shoulder.

"He was actually defending a friend." Mom's stance softens ever so slightly and eventually, she uncrosses her arms and sighs.

"As long as it was for the right reasons. But I still don't condone the violence and you're grounded until next week." Jack nods, knowing that it was a lenient punishment considering he spent the last month grounded because he had snuck out to see a girl.

Later, when Jack is in bed, Aaron tells Emily the true reason why he had gotten in trouble. Her heart swells with pride and an absolute adoration for the boy she's watched grow up and felt honored that he would defend her from his peers.

"Hot ass stepmom, huh?" She teases as Aaron bristles. She loved that even after years together, he still got jealous. Many cops and detectives have been the end of the Hotchner glare when he caught them checking her out and somehow, it doesn't surprise her that a few harmless teenage crushes would cause his heckles to rise.

"Oh sweetheart." She coos, snaking her arms around his neck as his hands land on her hips. She doesn't miss the way his grip is just a little tighter and giggles as he grunts in acknowledgement.

"You don't need to worry about a bunch of teenage boys stealing me away."

"Who says I'm worried?"

Emily just laughs, smoothing the frown on his forehead.

"Whatever you say, sweetie."

--

Later that week, when Jack's friends come over before they head to the high school football game, Emily comes home from her run. Her hair is thrown up in a messy bun, her sweat slick on her skin and her running shorts hugging her behind tightly. Aaron walks into the living room to greet her to see two pairs of eyes glued to Emily's form as she walks into the kitchen to get some water.

He throws them a death glare and doesn't fight the smirk on his face when Emily presses a kiss to his lips in greeting.

--

[calpalirwin]

Tough Act

Summary: Lip may have finally met his match.

A/N: A season 4/season 5 AU of sorts. My first Shameless/Lip Gallagher fic too, so fuck off if it sucks.

Content: Swearing, fighting, fucked up-ness.

Word Count: 4.3k

And away, and away we go!

__

The door to the lecture room slammed open, averting everyone’s attention to the teenager rushing into the closest empty seat. Underneath the sea of unruly brown curls was a face red from the exertion of his run across campus in a blind hurry. There was a wild look in his crystal blue eyes as he tore his backpack apart, digging around for a notebook and pen, and a flash of agitation as he came up empty-handed. The adrenaline of his bad morning made all his movements swift as he frantically scanned around to figure out who to ask to help him out of his predicament. 

“Psst,” he whispered, his rushing about coming to a standstill as he stopped on the girl seated to his left. “Psst… hey!”

“What?” she whispered back in annoyance, her lips barely moving, her attention still fully on the professor who continued with their lecture.

“You got a spare scrap of paper. And, uh… a pen? I seemed to uh…”

“Forgot to charge your precious laptop?” she questioned with the same note of annoyance.

“Oh, you think I’m one of these snobs?” he smirked, gaze flickering about the room. “Nah. Rough morning.”

Her eyes rolled as she reached wordlessly into her bag at her feet, producing a notebook with a pen tucked into the spirals. “Here,” she hissed, handing it over.

“Oh, I don’t need the whole th-”

“Don’t care. Now, shut the fuck up.”

“Thanks.”

“The fuck did I just say?”

The boy smirked again, but didn’t say another word, turning his attention to catch the rest of the lecture.

When the class was over, he ripped the pages free from the notebook, tucking the pen back in the spirals and handing it over. “Thanks again.”

“Keep it,” she said, pushing the notebook into his chest as she rose to her feet. “You clearly need it more than I do.”

Confused irritation flashed across his face as he followed her out of the classroom. “I was just trying to be nice. Fuck.”

She paused, turning on her heel to face him. Now that they were literally standing toe to toe, she got a good idea of just how tall he was as she found herself eye level with his chest. Or what would be his chest if it wasn’t covered in a white t-shirt sporting the words “Fuck you you fucking fuck” in blue block letters. The same color blue of the simple zip up hoodie he was also wearing. The kind of blue that really made his eyes pop as her chin tilted upwards to find his own gaze staring down at her, unchecked attitude in every sharp feature of his face. She crossed her arms, scoffing. “Are you saying I wasn’t nice back?”

“Look, if you’re gonna be a cold bitch, that’s fine. But why bother helping in the first place?”

“Right. Next time I’ll just let you keep pestering me, then.”

“I just said ‘thank you.’ What the fuck more do you want?! Jesus…”

“You’re welcome!” she snapped back. “Better?”

His temper gave way to cockiness as he flashed a grin. “See? Was that so hard? Can I buy you a coffee? Or like a new notebook?”

“Ugh, I don’t get you. One minute you’re pissed I helped you. The next you’re trying to flirt with me? Pick a side, loser.”

“It’s Lip, actually.”

Familiarity flashed in her eyes. “As in Gallagher?”

He chuckled lightly. “Yeah. How many Lips do you know? Wait… you know me? How?”

“Think you’re the only one from the South Side with a brain? I’m Mickey and Mandy’s cousin.”

“Oh shit! You’re a Milkovich?”

“A Y/L/N, actually. But yeah, I guess.”

“No shit, huh?”

“Yeah, what gave it away? The attitude, or the fact that I’m the only one in this place taking notes by hand?”

“Well, not the only one,” Lip chuckled, waving the notebook he had tucked under his arm.

“Right…” she said before walking off. After a few steps, she turned to look over her shoulder at him still standing there. “Well?” she demanded. “You buying me that coffee, or not?”

That trademark smirk graced his lips before he adjusted his backpack on his shoulder and jogged after her. 

“So, how’d you end up here?” Lip asked as they pushed their way out of the building. He rubbed his hands together, blowing into them before digging into his pocket, producing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Lip shook the box at her in a silent question as he placed one between his lips and lit it.

She took one, and when she moved to take the lighter from him, he gave a small shake of his head. One of Lip’s hands cupped around the cigarette in her mouth, the other lighting it for her, before he took a long drag from his own cigarette. “You gonna answer my question?” he asked, pocketing the cigarettes and lighter.

“You didn’t really give me time before you asked a new one,” she responded, blowing a ring of smoke.

“Well?” Lip prompted, twisting his left wrist in a gesture to indicate for her to go ahead and answer.

“Like I said. You think you’re the only one from the South Side with a brain?”

“I mean… statistically no. But to get into a place like this? And afford it? What’s your secret? The Milkovichs fuckin’ got some dirt on someone? Can you get them to threaten them for me too?”

She rolled her eyes. “One, I got in here on my own. Two, I’m not a Milkovich. I may share a little blood, but I don’t share the name. Not that I’d want to anyway. Fuckin’ Terry trying to fuck the gay out of Mickey by having him fuck that Russian broad? Like he has several dipshit sons to pass on those disphit genes. Who gives a fuck if one of ‘em’s a raging homo?”

“Hey, that raging homo is fucking my brother. Watch it.”

She raised her hands in defense. “Like I give a shit who’s fucking whom. None of my damn business.”

“Whom, huh? Jesus, you are smart.”

“Yeah, and for a brainiac you’re fuckin’ slow. Smart isn’t a special Lip trait made just for you. Other people can have it too. Probably hard to see that though with your ego. Does that ever get heavy?”

“Ooo, she bites.”

“She happens to have a name. And I swear if you call me a Milkovich one more time, I’ll show you exactly how I’m not one by not pulling my punches for a Gallagher like some white trash version of Romeo and Juliet.”

It was his turn to hold up his hands in defense. “Shit, okay. Let’s see… a Y/L/N… My age, give or take a year in either direction… that makes you Y/N? Which makes you a junior. Impressive.”

“Is that an ‘impressive’ in regards to your stellar deduction skills? Or an ‘impressive’ in regards to me being a junior.”

“The latter. I’ve already almost dropped out like 6 times.”

“Mmm, then maybe you’re not as smart as you think you are, Lip. Spewing bullshit to illiterates is easy. Actually being smart though requires a little more work.”

“Alright, fuck me for being curious, but I don’t exactly see our kind around campus, do you?”

“That’s probably because we don’t go around flaunting that part of ourselves. We had our chance to get out, we took it, and then we didn’t bother looking back.”

“What like some take the kid out of the hood metaphorical shit? Wouldn’t the follow up to that mean that you can’t take the hood out of the kid?”

“Yeah, and that’s exactly why I’m constantly busting my ass to keep up with these silver spoon trust fund brats. It was easy in high school. Pay attention every now and again, and you don’t have to bother with cracking a book to be labeled a genius. Big fish, small pond. Here? These kids have had nannies and tutors since before they could string two words together. Suddenly I’m just an average sized fish in a bigger pond. And out there in that ‘real world’ everyone keeps harping about? Do you see how as the pond gets bigger, you get smaller? But you think I’m gonna let that slow me down? Play into that self-fulling prophecy that I won’t amount to shit because of where I grew up? No. I’m gonna keep my mouth shut, and work my ass off because that’s what got me out in the first place, and that’s what’s gonna keep me from backsliding.”

“Did you just call me a small fish?”

“I’m saying you better get your shit together, Gallagher. This ain’t fuckin’ t-ball, it’s the big leagues. Back home, we might be the big shots. But here? We ain’t shit unless we do something about it. And showing up late to class without a fuckin’ notebook and pen isn’t how you make that happen.”

“Fuck, alright. If I wanted a lecture, I’d just call Fiona.”

“Just trying to warn you. One hood kid to another. But by all means, you could also contemplate dropping out for the 7th time.”

“Anybody ever tell you that you need to fuckin’ relax?”

“If they think that, they’re not stupid enough to say it to my face.” She took a last drag from her cigarette, blowing the smoke up in Lip’s face, before dropping the butt on the ground and grinding it out with the toe of her boot.

“Oh, yeah cuz I bet you’re real tough,” he deadpanned with an eye roll, stomping out his own smoked up cigarette, and pulling open the door to the school’s coffee shop.

Y/N scoffed. “Start putting those pretty eyes of yours to good use Gallagher, and you might just realize that in addition to being smarter than you, I can also do anything else better than you. That includes being tougher. And partying harder.”

“Pretty eyes, hmm?”

Her eyes rolled, but the way her cheeks flushed didn’t go unnoticed either. “That would be the only thing you heard… Friday night. 8 o’ clock. And if you have to ask… well… guess you better put that brain of yours to work.” The smirk on her face could rival his any day as one of her hands patted affectionately at his chest. “Bye, Lip.” And with that, she walked backwards from him out of the coffee shop, leaving him wondering what the fuck had just happened, and more intrigued than he’d ever been by any girl before.

~~~

Lip understood what Y/N had meant about not needing to bother with an address for the party. All he had to do was follow the sounds of loud music and drunk laughter.

He could feel the music vibrating in his bones the second he stepped inside, the room dark with the exception of the strobe lights bouncing triadic colors all across the party-goers, one of which was Y/N.

“Hey!” Lip said when he got closer to her.

“Hey!” she greeted with a grin. “Looks like you figured it out. C’mon, let’s get you a drink.”

He followed her deeper into the house, into a brightly lit kitchen that had him squinting. “Pick your poison,” she said, tossing him a red cup.

“So, I still owe you that coffee,” he commented after a beat, while they made their drinks.

“Oh, do you now?” she asked, looking up at him over the rim of her cup.

“I mean… I don’t do well with debts.”

“Who said you were in my debt to begin with?”

“You helped me out when you didn’t have to. What would you call that?”

“I’d call it being nice.”

“Yeah, well you know as well as I do that being nice comes with a price tag attached where we’re from.”

“That may be so. But look around Lip. Sometimes people do things for others without there being a catch. And it was a fuckin’ notebook and pen, not bail money. I don’t need anything from you, because I don’t want anything from you. Crazy concept, I’m aware.”

He took a pause to take a long drink from his cup. “I don’t get you, you know that? Like you’re nice, but you’re such a fuckin’ bitch about it too.”

“The duality of woman,” she smirked, bowing dramatically. “Some people aren’t so easy to pin down, Lip. God forbid you might actually have to get to know them. Or let them get to know you. Which one scares you more, Lip?”

Again, as a chance to get his thoughts together, he took a drink. He decided to take a page from her book. “Bye Y/N,” he called out over his shoulder as he walked away.

She watched him go in proud amusement, knowing that she’d be seeing Lip sooner rather than later.

It took about an hour for Y/N to be proven right.

“So less say you n me get outta here,” the drunk nameless college boy slurred, one hand propping himself up against the wall, the other getting dangerously close to her face.

“Let’s not, and say we did,” she replied, grabbing his hand and dropping it to his side.

“Aw, but where’s the fun in that?” he crooned, breath smelling like cheap booze and shit weed.

“The fun is that you walk away with the only part of you bruised being your ego,” Lip growled from behind.

Frat boy turned to face Lip, his movements sluggish. “And who the fuck are you?”

“Nobody,” Y/N hissed at the same time Lip responded with “Her boyfriend.” “Nobody,” Y/N repeated in a firmer tone. “Lip, leave. I got this handled.”

“Yeah, leave,” the other boy said earnestly. “Probably be best if you didn’t watch me fuck your pretty little girlfriend.”

“Ugh, you’re disgusting,” she spat while the muscle in Lip’s jaw ticked. “You can follow Lip in getting the fuck out of my face.”

“Mmm, feisty. Good. Just the way I like ‘em.”

Y/N’s hand cracked against his face, and then Lip was shoving him backwards. “The fuck did you just say to her?! Get the fuck out of here!”

“Oh, yeah? And who’s gonna make me?”

A snarl ripped itself out of Lip’s throat, before he was throwing a punch, his fist connecting solidly with the other guy’s jaw. “Lip!” Y/N scolded in disbelief as Lip took the next hit square in the face. “Hey!” she yelled, wedging herself in between both young men, each prepared to keep exchanging blows. “Leave! Both of you!”

The drunk frat boy stumbled off, but not before throwing Lip the dirtiest look he could muster. Lip huffed in disdain, but stayed rooted in place. “You alright?” he checked, the lights bouncing off the room showing the area around his mouth already starting the transition from red to purple. With a thumb, he wiped at the trickle of blood spilling from his nose, smearing it with the blood coming from his busted lip.

With both hands, she shoved him as hard as she could. “I had that fuckin’ handled!”

“Well fuck me for being nice, then!” he shot back, matching her anger. He turned on his heel, away from her.

“Where the fuck are you going?!”

“Away! Like you wanted!”

She grabbed his arm, whipping him back around and dragging him to the nearest bathroom. “Sit!” she instructed, as she locked the door and grabbed a washcloth.

“I’m fine,” he protested, but sitting on the ledge of the tub anyway. “Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

She slammed one of her hands on the counter as she turned on the faucet to wet the washcloth. “See?” she said, cupping his face and cleaning away the blood. “It’s exactly that type of thickheaded stubbornness that’s gonna keep you stuck exactly where you are.”

“Thickheaded stubbornness?”

“Yes. That chip on your shoulder that says the world is always gonna be against you, and that everything comes with a price tag. That fighter’s instinct you disguise as reckless bravery, but is really just a stupid desire to hit the world as hard as it hits you. The world isn’t as black and white as you were made to believe. If this was some piss poor attempt at saying we’re even for giving you a fuckin’ notebook the other day, congrats. We’re even. Thank you. Are you satisfied now, Lip?” She chucked the washcloth in the sink.

“I’m never satisfied. And wasn’t it you who told me that sometimes people can do nice things for others just because? I wasn’t evening a score between us, Y/N. I was just being nice.”

“Well, way to be a bitch about it…” she snorted.

“Oh, you liked it,” he taunted, rising to his feet. “Didn’t you?”

She rolled her eyes in disgust. “No.”

“Aw, not so tough when it’s me confronting you with the truth now are you?”

“Fuck you, Lip.”

“Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you?” He closed the distance between them in one step, lifting her up onto the counter, his lips finding that niche where her neck met the collarbone. When her fingers flew to tangle in his hair, he took that as his cue that he wasn’t pushing limits that shouldn’t be pushed. But erring on the side of caution, he pulled back to peel his shirt off, giving her ample time to stop him. When he got a throaty whine of protest instead of her slapping him senseless, he chuckled darkly. “Aw, look who doesn’t want me to leave now.”

Y/N pulled her own shirt up and over her head, tossing it to join his on the tiled floor. She hooked a finger in his belt loop, pulling him back to her. “Fuck me, Lip,” she breathed before their lips collided, heat radiating in every touch.

~~~

Lip’s chest heaved as he tugged his jeans back on. “Here,” he said, digging out his phone and handing it over. “So next time we can cut right to the chase.”

She scoffed but started to put in her number anyway, a warning about how he better call on the tip of her tongue, but the screen changed as the name “Fiona” flashed and his phone started to ring. “Uh…” Y/N said slowly.

He swore under his breath, taking the phone back and answering. “Yeah, Fi? Whoa, slow down. Ian did what? Okay, we’ll keep him there. I’m on my way now. I dunno, Fi, as soon as I can. I’m coming from campus. But I’m coming. Just… sit tight or something.”

“What was that?” Y/N asked as Lip hung up the phone, pulling on the rest of his clothes in a hurry.

“Family emergency. D-do you have a car? Can I borrow it? It’s faster than taking the L.”

“Yeah,” she said, redressing with the same hurry and dangling her car keys. “C’mon, I’ll drive.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” he rushed. “Come with me, I mean.”

“I’m coming with you whether you like it or not.”

Figuring that arguing with her would only only result in him leaving later, he nodded his head before letting them out of the bathroom.

The drive to his house was filled with tense silence as Lip bounced his leg and smoked the whole trip. As a quiet act of comforting the young man, Y/N rested a hand on his leg, and while he flinched at the contact, he allowed her hand to stay, the touch soothing even if it didn’t fully quit the storm raging in his head.

She hadn’t even put the car in park before Lip was bounding out, his boots racing against the pavement as he rushed towards the house. Y/N followed as quickly as she could, nearly colliding into his back as Lip froze in the small entryway of the house. “Where is he?” Lip barked, his brief hesitation breaking at the sight of his family huddled together in the middle of the living room while pounding and screaming sounded from upstairs.

“Up there,” a woman a couple years older than Lip directed, her voice cracking with fear and worry. “Mickey’s trying to break down the door to get to him. He’s been locked in there for like 2 hours, Lip. He stopped answering us. I- I-” Tears rolled down her cheeks as she pushed shaky hands through her hair. Behind her was a man and woman who looked to be even older than the woman talking, a teenage girl and boy of similar age, and a small toddler, all of them bearing the same terrified confusion.

Lip nodded once, understanding what the woman was saying without her needing to finish the thought. “Are all the knives accounted for?”

“Yeah, I think so. But… Fuck, Lip, I dunno what to do. Like I can’t just call the cops. I- I guess I could call Tony?”

“No, it’s fine, Fi,” Lip told her. “I’m gonna go help Mickey. You guys stay here. Actually, Kev, come with me. Carl, you too.”

As the men sprung into action and headed upstairs, the attention averted to Y/N who was still standing in the entryway. “Who are you?” the woman asked.

“Uh, I’m Y/N. I drove Lip. You must be Fiona?”

Fiona nodded numbly. “Yeah. This is V, Debbie, and Liam. Thanks for driving Lip. Uh…” She dug around in her pockets, pulling out a few crumpled bills. “Sorry,” she said, placing them in Y/N’s hand. “That’s all I got right now.”

“Oh, no,” Y/N responded, pushing the money back. “I- I go to school with Lip.”

Any chance for more small talk was interrupted by a loud splinting crack and an “Ian! What the fuck?!” before Lip, Kev, and Carl all came stomping downstairs, along with Mickey and Ian. “Y/N?” Mickey blinked, as he helped Ian onto the couch.

“Mickey,” Y/N deadpanned.

Mickey looked back and forth between Lip and his cousin, shaking his head. “Fuckin’ hell, Gallagher. You gonna fuck all my female relatives, or what?”

“Shut the fuck up, Mickey,” Lip and Y/N told him.

“Ian, are you okay?” Fiona asked, as Debbie went into the kitchen and came back with a glass of water.

“Yeah, I’m fine…” Ian muttered, gulping down the water, whatever that had transpired upstairs apparently long over in the red head’s mind.

Fiona’s gaze flickered over to the other boy’s for a more detailed answer. When Kev answered with a small whistle and twirl of his finger to indicate that Ian was off his rocker, V shoved him. “Kev!”

“What?” the man asked, holding up his hands in defense. “It’s true. Oh, and Fi… we’ll uh… fix the door tomorrow.”

“Don’t care,” Fiona responded, all her attention on Ian.

“I’m tired,” Ian declared.

“Okay, get some rest right here. I’m gonna talk to Lip real quick.” Her voice was soft, motherly even. A drastic change from the scared person she’d been 10 minutes ago.

“Okay. Hey, Lip. You home for the weekend?”

“Something like that,” Lip told him before following Fiona into the kitchen to talk out of earshot.

“What are you still doing here?” Mickey asked Y/N, not caring for the answer as he stalked after the eldest Gallagher siblings.

“Yeah, who are you?” Carl asked.

“She’s friends with Lip,” Debbie explained.

“Oh,” was the knowing reply.

V rolled her eyes. “Alright, Debbie, Carl, take Liam upstairs and go to bed. Kev, c’mon, let’s go home.”

There were some grumbles before the group dispersed, leaving Y/N alone with Ian. “So, you’re friends with Lip, huh? And related to Mickey somehow?”

“We’re cousins on his mom’s side. And I wouldn’t say Lip and I are friends, necessarily.”

“Mmm, right. Yeah, Lip doesn’t really do friends. Or relationships.”

“Good to know.”

“Hey, thanks again for driving Lip over,” Fiona’s voice sounded from behind as her and Mickey came back into the room. “We got it from here if you got somewhere to be.”

“Lover boy’s outside,” Mickey smirked.

“Not a problem. And thanks, jackass,” Y/N said, then headed in search of Lip, finding him on the back porch smoking yet another cigarette. “Hey,” she said softly, sitting down next to him.

“You’re still here?”

“Was I supposed to leave?”

He shrugged. “Everyone else does.”

“Ooo, dark…”

“Wasn’t saying it to seek sympathy points.”

“Does this tough act of yours ever get tiring?”

“Who said it was an act?”

“It’s not gonna kill you to let someone in, Lip.”

“Yeah, maybe. But it sure beats the hell out of watching them leave. Because in the end, they all do. I learned a long time ago that the only person I can count on is myself.”

“What a lonely way to live your life.”

“Better than the alternative.”

“Did you miss the part where I said I was tougher than you? That shit,” she said, jerking her thumb back at the house, “is a fuckin’ Tuesday. If anyone is gonna get the fucked up parts of you, it’s me, Lip.”

“Why?”

“Why do I get it?”

“No, why do you want to?”

“Because you get me back. Look, I know I’m abrasive. I know I piss people off. Because like you, if I push them away from the start, then when they eventually leave it hurts less. But here’s the stupid thing about that, Lip. It still hurts. Maybe this time it doesn’t have to.”

“You know that this is like a complete 180 from you berating me three days ago, right? Or even earlier this evening. Or right now.”

“That didn’t seem to bother you when you were fucking me in that bathroom.”

“How do I know you won’t leave?”

“How do I know you won’t?” she countered. “I’m not saying you gotta fuckin’ marry me, Lip. Just loosen up on the tough guy act. Not everything has to be a fight.”

“But what if I like fighting with you?”

“I’m sure we can find ways of making sure that still happens.”

“Wanna stay the night then? Maybe have a fight or two?”

__

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[kyle-valenti]

highschool milucho au drabble for @laufire

Lunch period arrives what feels like all too late after a hectic morning where Michael Guerin had punched Wyatt Long in the face for Maria. While she still thought he was an idiot for having done it, she downs a brownie for sustenance and brings Rosa along outside with her to go check on him. Unsurprisingly he was in the spot she had expected, clearly having ditched at least one class prior, and Rosa skipped over to him and roughly grabbed his hand to check on the bruise. Rosa scoffed, putting her hand to her chest with what was only half-kidding offense. “You fought him without me there? En serio? How dare you!”

Sitting up a little more against the metal bleacher column he had been leaning against, Michael gave a casual shrug. There’s still a smirk on his face as he does so. “Can’t help it if you’re always late to wake up, Ortecho.”

“He was dumb.” Maria said, a scolding look on her face that didn’t quite match her eyes. Both sat down without caring about chairs, Rosa too lazy and Maria liking to feel the earth underneath her. The shade provided overhead was just enough and while the teachers usually checked underneath here, the school was luckily short staffed due to a field trip. Also lucky was the lack of campus security in a small town. 

“No, he was right.” Rosa huffed. “Fuck Wyatt Long.”

“Thank you,” said Michael, turning to Maria with a smug look in response. Maria rolled her eyes, but Rosa still looked angry and displeased at the idea of Wyatt Long being within feet of Maria, because she continued, “Are you gonna hate me if I run over and slap him?”

“Yes!” Maria exclaimed. “Stop with the violence, you two! He’s not worth it.”

Rosa made a disgruntled sound, muttering, “Pacifist.”

“I am a lover, yes.” Maria replied with a teasing tone; one that Michael couldn’t help but use to flirt with a sultry, “Tell me more.”

She hit his arm and although the other girl rolled her eyes, Rosa was still distinctly smiling as Michael winked Maria’s way.

“Gross, stop.” She huffed, no meanness in her voice. “Even Kyle Valenti thinks we’re dating.”

“Kyle?” Rosa laughed. “Kyle’s not remotely observant enough to think that.”

Michael made a noise at that. “He was just being an ass because I commented on how he was clearly in love with Alex Manes.”

Maria glared now. “Be nice to my favorite gay and the clearly repressed football jock.”

“Here I thought you were about to pick a favorite bi.” Michael joked.

“Why would she?” Rosa challenged with a smirk. “I’m right here.”

“Right,” Michael drawled sarcastically. “Just because you two have sleepovers--,”

“Oh my god, you two.” Maria snapped, but that was the wrong decision because the two mischievous partners-in-crime looked at her with sudden interest. Michael was the first to pounce. “We making you uncomfortable, Deluca?”

He’s all but grinning, not even hiding behind a smirk, eyes alive. Even Rosa is clearly amused and holding onto laughter.

“Why the hell did everyone have to go on that museum trip?” Maria huffed, trying to ignore both of them and the feelings that rose up when the direct attention of two people who hated the world but liked her was suddenly her way. She definitely needed more friends, or at least less nerdy ones. “I need Liz.”

“You’d really use my baby sister to get out of flirting?” Rosa asked, letting out the laughter now.

Maria could feel her cheeks heat and she folded her arms stubbornly. “I’m about to use Kyle to get out of this. Luckily I have tests to study for.”

“What test?” Rosa replied, one eyebrow arched. “We have all the same classes.”

“And you suddenly pay attention?”

Rosa gave in with a playfully exasperated expression. “Okay, okay, mi vida; we’ll stop.” Then, amending as she looked conspiratorially at Michael, she said, “Well. I’ll stop.”

“I’ll try.” Michael shrugged, pretending to look as thought it would be heavy work. “I have considerably less self-control.”

Quirking her head, Rosa retorted. “Challenge accepted.”

Michael raised his eyebrows in response, before laughing. “Yeah okay.”

“Why am I always babysitting you two?” Maria sighed. “Please, tell me.”

“You’re the one who brought the pot brownies to school.” Rosa pointed out.

She couldn’t say much to that. Home had been stressful with her mother’s sudden memory lapses when it came to finances and worrying about colleges after SAT scores was even more anxiety inducing. If she was rich and privileged like Isobel Evans, maybe she could afford some xanax, but in the meantime her anxiety attacks would have to be treated herbally. Childishly, she pointed at Michael. “He’s the one who brought the flask.”

Definitely unapologetic, he shrugged. “Less teachers, more fun.”

“Fun?” Rosa asked. “We haven’t had fun in a while.”

“True.” Michael added, lighting up even further. Maria groaned. “Is this another ‘steal the principal’s desk’ situation?”

“No, but that was fun.” Rosa said thoughtfully. “We should have more… teenage fun. We have the drugs, the alcohol, now--,”

“I am not having sex under the Roswell High bleachers!”

Rosa gasped before laughing awkwardly, and Michael’s grin took an even brighter turn. “Wow, Deluca, I see where your mind’s really at.” Then he turned to Rosa, who noticeably looked pinker, and paused. Slowly, he inquired. “Do you want me to go?”

“No.” Rosa replied. It wasn’t like she and Maria belonged to each other, true, but something about the mischievous Michael Guerin staying around after Maria’s slip seemed to create palpable tension. Fumbling, the beautiful brunette added, “I mean we’ve all kissed before forever ago, right? Why don’t you pick your favorite bi, Maria.”

“I’m not sure choosing favorites qualifies as fun.” She retorted, trying not to withdraw into herself. She was safe with them, she knew that, but it still felt dangerous somehow. She looked at Michael. “No sudden objections?”

Michael scoffed. “You actually think I’m going to object to being kissed by two hot girls? I’m only human, Deluca.”

Biting her lip after rolling her eyes, Maria tried not to think about how attractive her last name was every time he said it, because that was such a ridiculous thing to find attractive. Rosa had picked up on the habit, although used it far more rarely, and now she was stuck in between them.

“We don’t have to--,” Rosa began. Shaking her head, Maria came to an abrupt decision. “You decide who goes first.”

“Ladies first.” Michael declared congenially.

When Rosa turned to Maria she looked hesitant and unsure. Charged moments weren’t exactly new to them, but they didn’t exactly kiss outside of spin-the-bottle or seven-minutes-in-heaven games. Any heterosexual excuse to be made, somewhere between Rosa’s Catholicism and Maria’s fear of being vulnerable to someone. 

Only two seconds pass before the hesitation is over and then Rosa’s lips are soft and inviting like Maria remembered, tasting of cinnamon gum and tajin mango suckers. It’s an addictive flavor, especially with the flood of emotions it foretells every time. At first it’s closer to chaste than not, given the company, but like many times before it deepens until they hear Michael shift and quickly break apart. 

Maria expects some dumbass comment about not needing to stop for his sake, but either he’s too turned on to make it or he simply knows better for the moment. Shockingly, it seems like the second choice with the almost exposed look he has on his face now. For whatever reason, maybe because of his general outward mask, she had thought that while she’d be safe this would still be a fun game to him and not something where his eyes would be soft and his body language almost nervous.

More than anything else, that makes her choose to kiss him first. 

With Michael she can only taste the cheap whiskey he’s been drinking all afternoon, but his skin smells like desert rain, and it’s quite possibly the most confusing contradiction for him she could ever conceive. The shape of his lips might be a contrast to Rosa’s but he still uses them quite well and by the time she pulls back out of mindfulness for Rosa, she’s breathless yet again. 

 “Obviously I’m not actually choosing.” Maria said primly, trying to cover the fact that she had to clear her throat.

“Well I feel used.” Michael teased, but a miracle had happened because it looked like he was blushing too. Michael Guerin. Blushing.

Rosa made an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “As if you’re not getting off to this tonight.”

“Rosa!” Maria snapped, actual hurt rising. It was silly to be upset about offhand humor from either of these two, she knew that. They both felt more than they would ever let on and jokes and sarcasm were their defense for almost everything. Rosa went to apologize, but the overwhelming feeling in her chest was too much. “Don’t. I’m just—I’m going to go sober up.”

They both called after her, but she ignored them both.

“I should really avoid weed, huh?” Rosa deadpanned sadly.

He raised his flask. “I can’t say anything. You gonna follow her?”

“You?” she asked without an answer.

“You’re her best friend.” Michael countered, and while it wasn’t technically sexist she still narrowed her eyes at the ‘you’re both girls’ vibe it gave off. Either way, it was still a painful statement and she muttered, “Yeah. Friend.” Michael went to say something—either an apology or a lecture—but Rosa shook her head. “I’ll give her a head start. You should check on her later too, though.”

Michael scoffed. “Come on, Rosa, she doesn’t want me. I’m just a guy she can use to pretend she’s straighter than she is.”

“Ay, you’re dumb.”

“And if she did want both of us?” Michael demanded, turning things back into their normalcy of confrontation and stubbornness.

“At least you’re not ugly.”

That seemed to take the wind out of his sails at least, but he did give her a look. “Glowing endorsement, Ortecho.”

She smirked. “And I guess you know how to kiss for a white boy.”

“That I’ll take.” He replied, chuckling despite himself and looking annoyed about it.

Rosa gave him a two finger salute as she got up to go after Maria.

[shhhlikeme]

Hiiii! I have a request! So if you write for tanaka, can you do one with the reader being really smart and getting pestered by the third years to tutor tanaka. So she does and he catches feeling ( so does she ) but,,,, can it somehow lead to them kissing ( maybe making out 😳 ). Sorry if this is confusing. Love your writing so far btw😘😘

Tanaka x Uber Intelligent Tutor 🤓🔥

———————————

Thank you sooo much! So I actually added yours with another request I received because it’s uncanny how similar they are.

This is the other request in my inbox that will remain anon: hey im kinda shy about sending asks without anon on so if you could write something about the reader being really smart and having a crush on (doesn't matter who but i guess just one of the guys that need help in canon) and getting assigned to tutor them, I would absolutely love you forever 💙

I hope you both enjoy it!!!!

———————————

Tanaka was going to kill his best friend Nishinoya.

At the moment, he was whispering all of the evil ways he was going to kill him for this.

Tanaka was hiding in his sister Saeko’s bathroom on the opposite end of his house. He had checked that he was alone twice before shutting the door and instantly dialing his libero friend’s number on FaceTime. He was going to kill him.

Back at Nishinoya’s house, he was bubbling over in laughter in his room at his friend’s expense. He kicked up his feet onto the wooden table in front of him that his mom always yells at him for putting his feet on.

“Now, Now, Ryu.....you and I both know that death by your teddy bear is not even possible.” He smiled that wide smile that took up his whole face.

Tanaka growled, “Wanna bet?!”

Ok, sure, granted. Maybe Nishinoya should have warned his best friend that the person the 3rd years convinced to tutor him was Y/N......one of the most gorgeous girls in school.....so that Tanaka could have been better equipped for their study sessions......but where was the fun in that?

“I told you that [Your Last Name] was your tutor. I didn’t lie!”

Tanaka settled down a bit because Nishi was right. He did say that [Your Last Name] would be his tutor. But that didn’t make him any less of a little shit. Because Nishinoya knew Tanaka well enough to know that he would hear that last name and think of Y/N’s little brother who was in their year. It would make more sense for that butt-wad of a hall monitor to be his tutor over his nerdy-hottie of an older sister. She isn’t even in our year!

Nishinoya explained that in his defense, he didn’t know either, until he eavesdropped on his upperclassmen’s conversation with the beautiful merit scholar. And no Nishinoya was totally not skipping class to see where Kiyoko was heading stalker ass

Flashback ———-

You held your books close to your chest as your fellow classmates Asahi, Sugawara, Daichi, and Kiyoko surrounded you at your locker.

“It would be just this once.” Daichi explained desperately.

“Is there anything we can do to repay you? Have an aunt that needs help moving?” Sugawara chirped.

Asahi nodded. “We could do your homework.....while you help him? Please.” The tallest boy smiled.

You moved away from the three boys because they were unknowingly crowding your claustrophobic self. You could feel a panic coming on and you really wished you were back in the library with your books.

Kiyoko stretched her hand in front of the 3 boys and hissed at them to step back and give you space in her sweet but monotone voice. They did so immediately and you caught your breath. Kiyoko was so nice! She was great at corralling those volleyball boys it was almost admirable. They were quite the bunch.

Kiyoko gave you a sweet smile as she turned her gaze to you. She explained to you sweetly that Tanaka, one of Karasuno’s starting wing spikers, was about to fail Biology and since you were a student teacher in another Biology class for the second years you’d be a perfect tutor for him. If you had time. She added that they would realllly appreciate it.

Tanaka? You thought to yourself. You vaguely remember hearing your little brother complain at the dinner table about the amount of hall passes he had to give to this shaved-head boy named Tanaka. Yes, and that he was on the volleyball team. So that must be him.

As you began to recall the face, you definitely recalled the body. This one time you were leaving school from grading papers and the team ran by you. The only shirtless one caught your eye, because he was lean and all muscle. You had to hide your drool behind one of your books and scurry home before you jumped on his back for a piggyback ride.

You were smart .... not a horny-less teenage girl

Snapping you out of your head, Kiyoko took your hands between both of hers and asked if you could “pretty please” help him because they needed him in the next game.

Sugawara couldn’t resist but say yes to Kiyoko’s “pretty please” and Daichi pestered him because obviously the beautiful Kiyoko wasn’t talking to him!

Stunned, you nodded. You did have the time. And you wanted to help. You were a student teacher for the subject anyway, so what’s one more student right? Asahi, Daichi, and Suga have been so sweet to you during your 3 years with them and who could say no to Kiyoko anyway?

You agreed. And just like that the following Saturday you headed over to Tanaka’s house for tutoring.

End of Flashback ———-

When Tanaka opened the door, looking like a slob because he couldn’t care less what his enemy hall monitor thought of his looks— his jaw dropped to the FLOOOOOOR

A stuttering mess, he asked you what you were doing here.

You shook the stack of biology books in your hand in front of his face to remind him and you blushed.

He looked homeless and cute to you!

He slapped his forehead with his hand and moved so you could come in.

Tanaka awkwardly made you wait outside his shut bedroom door while he rummaged through everything and cleaned to the best of his ability at “rolling thunder” speed, stuffing everything into his closet and using all his strength to push it closed. He sprayed a few spritz of his favourite cologne around the room before he swung the door back open and tried to play it cool.

“Uhh, sorry about that — I had to....uh....study.”

You laughed. “Study? Without me? Isn’t that why I’m here?” You pushed the books into his chest for him to hold as you walked into the room.

Tanaka rushed to reason. “It’s always good to study.....before......you....study. It’s like stretching before a volleyball game right? Ha-ha.”

You stifled a giggle.

He rubbed the back of his head. “I think saw it on Dr. Phil or something.” He finished.

You threw your head back and laughed even harder. Tanaka cursed himself and Nishinoya in his mind for leading him to embarrass himself like this. Once he was done that he couldn’t help but admire how whimsical your laugh was. Fuck....were you gorgeous as ever. You had that prestigious type of beauty, in which he knew you were his Senpai and soooo far out of his league but you were talking to him and it made him sweat. Also, he could very well be sweating because you were wearing a v-neck blouse and your boobs were bouncing with you as you giggled. Oh, God. Tanaka bit his bottom lip.

Excusing himself to shower, (because he wasn’t going to if it was your brother here) he grabbed his towel and made a swift exit before he sported a hard on.

How the FUCK was he going to study with Hottie-McSmarty Pants...Ette in his room ?!?!

Once he locked himself in his sister’s bathroom .... he called to threaten Nishinoya’s life and hung up on him when Nishi reminded him that Y/N tied with Kiyoko on the second years “Hot Girl List” in the boys’ bathroom. He didn’t want to be reminded of that fact when she was steps away and his Libero knew that.

Frustrated, Tanaka took a very fast and very cold shower before returning to his room.

Upon return, you looked up as he walked in and instinctively licked your lips. He only had a towel wrapped around his waist and drops of water were running down his abs slowly. Is this guy really only in second year?! With muscles like that......

“Sorry.” Tanaka snapped as he quickly grabbed some clothes and left to change in his sisters empty room. He didn’t dare look at you out of embarrassment so he didn’t catch you ogling.

3 hours into the study session, Tanaka began wishing that he did do something in the shower to ease his hormones instead of merely opting for a cold one.

You were so hot and so smart which only added to your hotness even more and you smelled good which ALSO added to your hotness even more and you kept leaning over him from behind to explain things and Tanaka couldn’t breathe. He was, however, understanding everything you were teaching him.

You both continued these tutor sessions for the next few weeks, meeting every Saturday for most of the day. Tanaka found you to be more than just good looks and brains. The fact that you could run circles around intellects twice your age turned him on, yes, but he also found you witty, kind, and funny and that laugh of yours was something he wished he could program into his phone as his ringtone. He was crushing big time.

And I mean......you were crushing too, as much as you tried to deny it. He was the funniest person on the planet and he was so protective of you and you definitely wanted to confess to him before you graduate and leave for College

One Saturday when you came over you had shut up Tanaka’s school work complaints because apparently he heard from Dr. Phil that studying is bad for your health - you gave Tanaka a practice quiz to he had to gauge his progress. As he began, you collapsed on your back on his bed, letting out a big sigh and whispering to him how comfortable his bed is.

Tanaka gasped quietly. HOT SMART CRUSH ON HIS BED ?! HOT SMART CRUSH COMPLIMENTING HIM ON HIS BED ?! This can’t be.

He tried his best to turn away and focus on his quiz that you gave him but he just couldn’t. Yes, his hormones were acting up but his heart was beating more. He wanted you to sleepover and not even do anything physical. He just wanted you here, in his room, by his side, forever.

Baby boy is in looo-

You closed your eyes on the bed and basked in the scent of him that his bed captured. You were so happy just smelling him and being here. You imagine yourself sleeping in his bed overnight, imagining his strong arms holding you close to his shirtless chest and your breath hitched.

At least you thought it did.

But that wasn’t your breath. Not at all.

You quickly opened your eyes to see that Tanaka has transported on to the bed beside you, his face hovering over yours. Why wasn’t he breathing? He was just looking at you with adoring eyes as if you were the most gentle and precious thing in the world. “Ryūnosuke... what are you-“

“I’ll do the stupid test, teach....” His eyes softened as he leaned in just a little bit closer. “Just let me look at you....” He whispered to himself as his beautiful eyes scanned every part of your face.

Neither of you said anything as you stared at each other. You wanted him closer. You wanted him much closer. And although you had much more knowledge on cell duplication than romance (you hadn’t even kissed a boy yet), you used your social intelligence to read the moment and you dared a glance at his lips.

Tanaka a.k.a the VERY LOST self proclaimed babe lover—- bless his heart, did not take the hint.

So you had to be obvious.

“Tanaka...?” You called.

“Hm?”

“Screw. The. Test.”

Even though you found it sweet that he didn’t make a move, and that he in fact did just want to look at you, you lifted your head up from off the bed just a bit so that your lips met with his.

Tanaka was shocked for a second but quickly regained his footing. He immediately sighed into the kiss and kissed you passionately. So passionately you were dizzy within the first 4 seconds. He asked for entrance and you opened your mouth to let his gracious tongue in. He skillfully French kissed you until you forgot your own name. He was undoubtedly an incredible kisser. You moaned into his mouth as you two made out and in response Tanaka slowed the kiss down. In his mind, he didn’t want you to think he was trying to make you moan and get the wrong idea about him. He didn’t want you to think anything that may jeopardize this kiss and make you stop. He had no intention of stopping and he was happy as a camper just making out.

for the record, your moan did go straight to his dick 

You figured Tanaka’s objective was to help you gain your senses back but all slowing the kiss down did was make it more sensual and pleasurable for you.

Homeboy can KISSSSSSSSS

Up until now you were the tutor. You were the one in charge, you had all the answers. And just like that it only took one kiss for your relationship to surpass physical boundaries causing the roles to reverse. You followed his lead, you let him kiss you the way he wanted because it felt so damn good.

What subject were you teaching him again? You forget.

Because at the moment he was the teacher.

This was his class now...

And as Tanaka moved down to start placing the same agonizingly slow kisses on your neck..... you were hit smack in the face with the realization that class was in session.

Good thing you always enjoyed being top of the class. 

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

get it? 

LOOOOL. 

[rhetoricalrogue]

Zoe/Mason and #21

Thanks for the ask!  This was in regards to my 2020 Spotify Unwrapped.  #20 was Lord Huron’s Fool for Love.

Well I’m not afraid to fight Let’s step outside and I’ll show you why

Mason frowned when he saw that Zoe’s office was empty.  It was well past her time to be off the clock, and the fact that she hadn’t left was troublesome.

Not that he was waiting for her or anything.  

He didn’t bother flicking on her light, his eyes looking at the oversized desk calendar.  Ah.  He remembered her talking about the self-defense class that she and Tina were hosting, but he hadn’t caught what day she was going to be doing the clinic on.  Grabbing her pen, he crossed the date out, seeing that it was Zoe’s habit to do it for all the other previous days of the month and she had missed doing it with that calendar square.

Not like he was concerned it may throw her off in the morning.  It was just his way of being polite.

The police station had a decently sized gym and Mason leaned against the doorframe to watch the last bits of the class.  He had to admit, he didn’t expect Tina to be so capable in breaking holds or throwing her attacker into the mats.  She had good form and was a decent opponent.  You know, for a human.

Then again, it didn’t take much when your opponent was a scrawny string bean of a teenager, constantly blowing his hair out of his eyes.  Mason sneered.  If there had been anyone nearby, he would have bet that Douglas had volunteered for the class purely so he could touch Zoe, even if said touching was her slamming her knee into his solar plexus.

He winced.  Mason could tell that Zoe was pulling her punches, but he’d been on the receiving end of that hit - he’d felt generous their last sparring session and slowed down enough for her to connect her punches.  She hit fast and she hit hard, much to his approval - and he knew that even without her full power that Douglas was going to feel that one in the morning.

He waited until the class had been concluded before approaching.

“Thought I’d find you here,” he drawled, watching as Zoe started snapping folding chairs together and handing them over to Douglas, who stacked them up alongside the wall.

She grinned.  “You remembered.”

He scoffed as he moved to help her pick up chairs, quietly smirking when Douglas turned and jogged over to them, body language all but screaming that he didn’t like the fact that Mason had shown up.  “Of course, sweetheart,” he drawled.

She raised an eyebrow. “Uh huh.  You went into my office and saw my calendar, didn’t you?”

Mason decided not to answer that one.  “Nice class you put on, I caught the last fifteen minutes.  Covered a lot of ground, though I highly doubt that anyone’ll have to put that knowledge to use any time soon in this town.”

She shrugged.  “It’s still good information to have on hand.  You never know when some stranger will show up and crowd you in an alley.”

He sidled up to her, hovering close enough to feel the heat of her body radiate towards him.  She’d put on a plain t-shirt and yoga pants for the demonstration and his hands itched to rove over dips and curves he’d all but memorized.  “That an invitation for something, Sweetheart?”

“Yeah, if you want to get your ass kicked.”

Mason’s head whipped over to where Douglas was sullenly grabbing chairs and hauling them over to the wall.  “What was that, kid?”

“Mason -”

He ignored Zoe’s warning and crossed his arms over his chest.  “Couldn’t quite hear you.”

The tips of Douglas’ ears turned pink.  “It’s just that she’s been showing off her moves all night.  She’d eat you alive if you tried anything in an alley with her.”

“That’s…”  Zoe took a breath to try to gather her composure and try not to laugh out loud while shooting Mason a look that said don’t you dare make an innuendo.  “Thank you, Douglas, for the vote of confidence.”

Douglas smiled and gave her such a look of blind devotion that Mason found his hackles rising.  “You’re an excellent teacher, Zo,” he said dreamily.

There was a thread of irritation in Mason’s voice that he couldn’t quite get out.  “She really is, kid.  And since you’ve been tossed around all evening, I bet you picked everything up right quick.”

Douglas squared his shoulders and puffed his narrow chest out.  “I sure did,” he said, looking Mason in the eye.  Mason had to give him credit for not immediately backing down.  Then again, he hadn’t given him a proper intimidating look backed with a burst of pheremones to make the boy unnerved.  “In fact, I could probably teach you a thing or two.”

The harsh bark of laughter couldn’t be stopped, but then again, he also heard the indelicate snort Zoe gave.  “Kiddo, if you really think you could take me on, you’ve got -”

“It’s Officer Friedman,” he said, coming out of his perpetual slouch in order to stand up to his full height.  Granted, he was still several inches shorter than Mason, but the defiant look in his eye earned him the tiniest of nods of respect.  “And yes, I know I can take you on.”

Zoe stood in between them.  “Okay, I don’t think that’s the best of ideas. It’s late, we should all be getting home.”

“No, no, I want to see how this goes.”

Zoe looked over Mason’s shoulder to glare at Tina.  “Really?”  

Tina grinned.  “Honestly, I want to see just how many seconds it takes for Douglas to hit the dirt.”

Zoe reached out and grabbed Mason’s arm.  “Can I speak with you privately?” she asked, not waiting for a response as she started dragging him towards the other side of the gym.  “What is going on?”

He shrugged.  “Kid’s feeling his boundaries and wanting to pick fights.”

She narrowed her eyes.  “And you’re encouraging him.”

“Sometimes people need to know how far to test things and when the things they’re testing start to bite back.”  He tossed a look over to the teenager, who had gone back to helping Tina clean up the remaining chairs.  “Unless you want him to continue mooning over you.”

Zoe stood up straighter.  “You’re jealous.”

“Can’t get jealous of someone who doesn’t have a chance, now can I?”  The statement was said calmly enough, but he tapped out a cigarette and stuck it in his mouth irritably.

She yanked it from his lips and shook her head.  “No smoking in police buildings.”

“Whatcha gonna do with that then?”

“Maybe I’ll give it back to you if you ask me nicely.”  Her smile faltered.  “Look, he’s a kid that’s thirteen years younger than me. Whatever little crush he has on me is just that, a crush.  We all had them at that age and for the most part, we all got over them.  It isn’t going to do anyone any good if the guy that he sees as some weird competition sends him to the hospital.”

Mason rolled his eyes and let out a long-suffering sigh that would have impressed Nate, had he been there. “Fine, I won’t hurt the kid.” He sneered. “Even if it would get him to stop dressing like a knockoff version of me.”

“Face it, you’re just jealous of his fancy new boots.”

He scoffed at her calling him jealous for a second time that evening. “Whatever. I have boots older and better than his.”  His grin widened as he reached out to palm her hip, his arm pulling her closer to him.  “That’s not the only thing that’s older and better either, Sweetheart.”

Zoe leaned in and pressed a kiss to his chin.  “Careful, Sunshine.  He’s going to wind up landing a lucky hit on that enormous ego of yours.”

Mason rolled his eyes and smirked. “I’m letting him get one good hit in, only so he feels like he’s doing okay.”

Zoe reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, her nails scratching against his scalp in a way that had him letting out what could only be described as a satisfied sigh, his hand sliding down to cup her backside and bring her in until she was all but riding his thigh.  “Be careful with my officer, Mason.  I’m going to need him to be well enough to start doing patrols.”

“You two gonna make out in the corner or is Douglas going to have to go in there and break you up?” Tina teased, cupping her hands around her mouth to be heard across the station’s gym floor.

“I didn’t know that was an option,” Mason retorted, giving Zoe a quick kiss and a parting nip to her bottom lip before moving away, his mouth teased up into a knowing grin as he caught the barely inaudible whine she let out at the lack of contact.  “Don’t worry, Sweetheart.  I’ll deal with this and then maybe we can go back to your place for a little wrestling match of our own.”

“Just…” she sighed.  “Dial it down a notch or a million, will you?”

Mason shrugged out of his jacket and handed it to her.  “Yeah, yeah.  I’ll go puny human level, don’t get your panties bunched up.”  Pushing the sleeves of his henley up his forearms, Mason lazily sized Douglas up, watching as he got into a fighting stance.  “Well?  You gonna throw a punch or are we standing here all night?”

Douglas narrowed his eyes and struck out, the blow easily dodged.  “Not a bad start, let’s see if one of these actually connects.”  

“Five bucks says your boy toy knocks him on his ass in less than five minutes,” Tina whispered.

“Not taking that bet.  We both know how this is going to go.”

“Yeah, with you leaving me to tend to Douglas’s bruised ego while you go and get freaky with that tall drink of oh shit, he got a hit!” Tina bounced on the balls of her feet as Mason reached up to dab at his mouth with the back of his hand, the smallest dab of red streaking across his knuckle.

“Not bad at all.  You’ve got some potential.”  Zoe was positive that there was a tiny spark of respect in Mason’s voice before he struck out with a speedy one-two combination, hitting Douglas in the chest and stomach with enough force to knock him to his knees.

“You know,” Douglas wheezed, slowly getting back to his feet.  “You don’t hit that bad either.”

Mason narrowed his eyes.  “You’re a persistent one, I’ll give you that,” he told him, dodging another punch.  Somewhere along the line, a demonstration of what Douglas had learned had boiled down to what looked like a plain fistfight, a haymaker that would have connected on anyone else going wild as Mason zipped out of the way.  He was still using enough speed and force behind his punches that didn’t raise any eyebrows, and Zoe had to roll her eyes at the fact that he even made sure to pant every now and again so it looked as if he was running out of breath.

She knew better.  He was a shitty actor, even if no one else but her could pick up on it.

Their impromptu fight ended abruptly when Mason’s fist connected with Douglas’s jaw, sending him sprawling onto the mats.  “You okay, kid?” Mason asked, flexing his fingers as Tina and Zoe ran towards them.

Douglas sat up with Tina’s help.  “I think you broke my jaw.”

Mason shook his head.  “Nah.  Trust me, you’d know if it was broken.  Put some ice on it when you get home.”  He turned to look at Zoe.  “We done here, Sweetheart?”

“Everything okay, Douglas?” she asked instead, holding out a hand to help him to his feet.

“Yeah, Zoe.  It’s all good.”  She inwardly winced at the sad expression on his face, but also hoped that it would mean the beginning of the end to his fixation with her.

“Come on, Champ,” Tina said, patting him on his back.  “We’ll make a pit stop to the break room for a bag of ice and then I’ll take you out for some ice cream.”

Mason waited until they were alone.  “You’re pissed.”

Zoe turned back to face him.  “What makes you say that?”

“I bruised your officer.”

She shook her head.  “You could have done worse, but you didn’t.”  She pulled out the cigarette from her pant pocket and handed it to him.

“I didn’t even ask nicely.”  Still, Mason shook his head.  “Keep it.”

She watched his eyes darken as she shrugged her arms into his jacket, the garment too big on her.  “Maybe I’m feeling generous,” she said, digging into his jacket pockets until she found his slightly crumpled carton of cigarettes and replaced it inside.  Turning on her heel, she made her way towards the gym’s doors and flicked off the light.  “You coming or am I walking home alone?”

There was a whoosh of air and Zoe let out a grunt as her back gently hit the wall next to the light switch.  “I seem to remember me talking about having our own little wrestling match,” he said, tightening his fingers in her hair, his palm cushioning the back of her head from hitting the wall when he crowded her.

“I don’t remember agreeing,” she purred, sliding her fingers up and under the hem of his shirt, feeling the muscles of his stomach contract at the contact.  “Though maybe if you ask -”

He kissed her then, just like he’d wanted to all damn day, his mouth moving over hers and tongue dipping into her mouth to taste her.  “Please,” he murmured, lips trailing downwards over her throat as he wedged his thigh between her legs.  “Pretty fucking please.”

It took all his willpower not to shove her pants down her hips and have her there against the gym wall as she whimpered a shaky yes when his fangs skated across her skin, but he did muffle a groan into her shoulder as he let her grind against his thigh before grabbing her hips and smothering a pleased cry with his mouth.  “Keep that up, Sweetheart, and we’re not going to make it back to your place any time soon.”

“Promises, promises, Sunshine,” she replied, nipping at his lips until he melted against her, forearm braced against the wall and his other hand wandering to cup her backside and yank her closer to him.  Giving him one last kiss, she ducked under his arm, grabbing her bag and slinging it across her body before heading out of the gym and into the night.

Mason quickly shut the door behind them, letting his long legs catch him up to Zoe, who hadn’t gotten quite to the edge of the parking lot yet.  He shoved the sleeves of his shirt down to his wrists and rubbed his hands down his arms before casually resting an arm over Zoe’s shoulder.

“You want your jacket back?” she asked, wrapping her arm around his waist as they walked.

“Eventually.”  He sighed as the warmth from her body soaked into his side.  “Besides, it’s just going to wind up on your bedroom floor in a few minutes.”  Her scent was also going to linger in the lining for days, making him reluctant to light up a cigarette and have the smoke drown it out.

Not that he’d tell her that or anything.

Zoe grinned at his smile.  “Promises, promises,” she repeated, moving closer to him until she was all but glued to his side.

Mason’s smile widened into a full-blown leer.  “And you should know by now that I’m good with keeping my word.”

“I’m not arguing with you there.”  She stopped them under a streetlight and teasingly nipped at his jawline.  “Just looking forward to when you make good on them.”

Mason quickly looked around the empty streets, ears straining to hear anything over the tempting sound of Zoe’s heart.  Making a calculated move, he reached down and grabbed her, slinging her over his shoulder as he moved away from the light and zipped down the dark parts of the street in a blur until they were close to her apartment.  He would have rushed them into her complex properly, but he knew that there was that nosy neighbor on the second floor who always seemed to be looking out their window when he showed up and he didn’t want to risk anyone witnessing a display of supernatural speed.

“Don’t worry,” he drawled as she unlocked her front door.  “I’ll make damn good on them.”

[smalltragedy]

* justice smith, demi man + he/they | you know gabriel de leon, right? they’re twenty three, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, six years? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to 1984 (infinite jest) by the used like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole waking up in a body as heavy as the dead, emotions always on the verge of spilling over - you laugh before the punch lands, the belief that every encounter you have will be the last thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is october 31st, so they’re a scorpio, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( james, 21, est, they/them )

hi im just reposting gabe’s intro bc its been a very long time n im starting a little fresh hehe. yes i do regret the text color bt im not going back.

VIOLENCE TW

mini playlist.

ghosting ;; mother mother / roam the room ;; citizen / art of doubt ;; metric / thnks fr th mmrs ;; fall out boy / heart in a cage ;; the strokes / where is my mind? ;; the pixies / flowers grow out of my grave ;; dead man’s bones / 1984 (infinite jest) ;; the used / blister in the sun ;; the violent femmes.

statistics.

full name: gabriel de leon.

nickname(s): gabe.

birthday: october 31st, 1997.

zodiac: scorpio sun, scorpio moon, gemini ascending.

label: the icarian.

hometown: belleville, new jersey.

sexuality: bisexual (masc-leaning).

pinterest.

biography.

it’s only rly ever been gabe n his mom n the little new jersey suburbs that r always the same no matter where they go. they dn’t speak abt fathers or brothers or spain or anywhere other than the now, and how its constantly changing bt oddly the same.

his mom’s name is sonia n we love her. she worked a lot as a single mom n p much hs done everything on her own ever since leaving spain.

they dn’t talk abt spain bt we cn talk abt spain n hw sonia hd grown up partially there n partially in the states n hw she’d originally planned to live there forever bt the man she’d fallen in love with ws involved in some. high class dangerous shit n it ws safer fr them to part even if tht involved leaving everything she knew n loved <3

bt its like. ok. bc she hd gabe <3 n they dnt talk abt it so it practically nvr happened. n she tries her best as a mom n usually tht is enough.

they moved around a lot just bc sonia is a very. flighty person. anxious bt nvr seems tht way is just always. tense. gabe didnt think she ws capable of relaxing fr. a rly long time.

she wld commute 2 nyc every morning n after school gabe wld climb onto the train n by the time he got 2 her place of work she’d be just getting off n they’d get a slice of pizza n sometimes they’d go somewhere like central park or coney island (just fr the novelty) bt most of the time they just got back on the train home w/ gabe either doing homework or napping on her shoulder.

when gabe got a little older he’d sometimes skip school n take the train after sonia had already gone so he cld spend the day in nyc. he liked learning bt didnt rly like school. he nvr properly fit in bc of the amt of times they’d move so it felt like nowhere ws. right fr him.

got rly involved in. the punk scene as a young unsupervised teenager n tht led 2 a lot of like. shitty stick n pokes bt also a love of. very loud angry music n a sense of justice tht he held tightly in his fists. got mouthy towards bullies whether at school or in the scenes he involved himself in n started getting into a lot of fights bc of it.

during this, sonia ended up dating n marrying gabe’s stepdad who he calls craig sometimes bt i dnt think thats his name i wont lie to u guys. its partially a joke n partially purposeful disrespect bc gabriel does not trust a single man bt like. man. ‘craig’ is just an accountant. he’s fine he’s a good dude. they once bonded over like. the mets.

violence tw // anyways. when gabriel ws 16 he got into a super super bad fight tht ended rly. terribly n like listen. nobody died bt it ws just. it got blown up very out of proportion n gabe might’ve gotten expelled even tho he wsnt even the one who started it bt thts okay. ‘craig’, or paul, suggested tht maybe. a change of scenery wld b good fr gabe n b4 they knew it they were. moving to paul-robert’s hometown of irving, north carolina. violence end of tw //

he wld’ve complained more bt. fr sonia’s sake gabe kept it 2 himself. it made her happy 2 see them all get along anyways n like. idk he cld put forth tht little effort <3

bt honestly like. he didnt rly get into too many fights once they moved down here n even tho sometimes he ws like. ommgg. i hate this town .. its so washed up .. he still made friends n like. the only thing tht changed ws tht it ws a lil harder fr him 2 acquire illegal substances.

anyways. currently he hs a tattoo apprenticeship n is a professional piercer n like. he plays guitar n writes songs bt thts more of a hobby rn than anything else. mostly focused on paying his rent at port apartments bc as much as he. loves his mom he does not want 2 live with her forever <3 n thts okay!

personality & facts.

overall xtremely passionate person like god. feels emotions so intensely. every time he opens his mouth n talks abt an interest of theirs its just very like. u listen n ur like oh. gained 2 inspiration. thanks.

clings onto his friends p tightly bc he like. nvr rly stayed in one place fr super super long in new jersey so he nvr made very long term friends n now hes like. very clingy HLKDSHLKFSHLKDG also hates to b alone. subtle desperation behind interactions with ppl he rly wld like to be friends with.

like dnt get me wrong hes gotten into. sm fights bt thts mostly bc he cannot keep his mouth shut n he also cnt stand douchebags he like. always wants to tear them down prob bc he ws a victim of bullying. n u know what. we support him. otherwise he loves ppl bt esp if they hv similar interests 2 him.

like golden retriever who bites kind of. intensely loyal but at the same time is very skeptical. things tht good things do not last very long even though they’ve been doing already fr the last few years.

also bit of a nerd. they were nvr rly a big fan of school bt theres smth abt a good superhero comic tht draws their attention more than like. any english class evr. bt seven soldiers of victory? classic. big dc fan.

uh. very into like. hardcore music. hardcore rock. punk. if its loud n angry they r into it like so so much. hs sm tattoos is like. super covered in them its partially bc they work at a tattoo shop n partially bc they do not know hw to manage their money well.

ooohh u know what theyre. kinda moody i wont lie to u. very defensive like they dnt evr wna talk abt their past. has experienced Things n they do not wish to discuss them. will usually like. deflect frm conversations he doesnt wna hv.

in tune with nature. loves fkn taking walks. hangs out in the woods by abernathy creek n lilac ridge bc nobody rly goes there n its just. nice

tries not 2 take anything super seriously 2 the point where when he does take smth seriously its a little scary bc theyre super intense abt it. forcibly optimistic even tho on the inside he feels like a total pessimist. lots of. deep down insecurities tht he projects by attaching himself p firmly onto others. >.>

so so so energetic. can never stay still. always hs to be moving around. restless like tht. probably got it frm his mom. overly protective over the ppl he loves. probably got it frm his mom as well.

goes onto Tangents bt also divert frm those tangents n is generally all over the place.

always cold n always looks tired n like he hsnt slept in a thousand years n u know what. sometimes he just does not sleep.

oooohh theyre a vegan. totally into animal rights. devious little demi man beyond that .. loves horror n the paranormal n believes in like. every cryptic. will debate u on it.

erm not. the kindest 2 themself theyre a bit self destructive. impulsive. drives very fast n parties super hard. said i will hv my effy stonem moment. u dont hv to gabe.

bt ya! luvs oranges n reds n is maybe a short king. hs an eyebrow piercing n like. a lip ring i wont fk around here he IS living his best emo life in 2021. a little outdated on the trends bt thats okay. probably will tell u hes frm new jersey. its a personality trait. smokes the shittiest cigarettes ever.

wanted plots.

just ghosting along ,, dnt even exist 2 me ,, ;; god. firstly just the vast amt of ppl tht gabe hs like. spoken to romantically n then dropped suddenly. n then maybe like. one tht actually Hurt bt they cnt avoid each other bt theyre actively pretending each other doesnt exist n its. hurtful bc it ws like. actually smth nice bt <3 ykno FKLFSDHG

hey hey heyy c’maahn i’m just a little guy ;; n this is the vast amt of ppl tht gabe hs probably. pissed off n hs either fought or been on the verge of fighting just. unable 2 resist a good bicker-turned-duel.

just blistering in the sun ;; they cld b close friends bt also they cld also not b bt just ppl who. indulge in bad impulsive decisions with gabe. general bad influences on each other’s health n just. no good! party hard bt at what cost.

n also ;; like ... rly solid good friendships ... flings n maybe an exe or two tht either ended on good terms or just. horrendous, ppl they’ve distanced frm, ppl also frm up north, piercing customers, bt not tattoo customers bc im p sure they’d get fired if they were just tattoo’ing ppl willy nilly, etc.

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Walk Me Home - Ch 6

Summary: Twenty-four years ago, Kimberly Harper met a boy who changed the course of her entire life before up and leaving one night. She spent years moving past the memories, building a stable, satisfying career as professor of folklore and mythology at the local university. Then the accidents start, and she’s forced to seek help among her hunter contacts. All it takes is a knock on her office door to send Kimber’s carefully built emotional walls crumbling to the ground.

Featuring: Teen Winchesters, high school romance, reunions, misunderstandings, high intensity emotional turmoil, Dean’s love of pie, Dean being adorable, Sam being adorable and maybe a bit nosy eventually, much group adorkable-ness, show-style investigation, mention of our favorite werewolf, gratuitous and obvious love of fall, DID I MENTION ROMANCE, fluff, smut, tension. 

Warnings: Show level violence, show level parental neglect (let’s not John bash, I’m just saying), show-style witchcraft, show-level mental manipulation, stalking, bit of angst, sexual content (higher than show level), swearing, general yearning

Word Count: 1775

Author’s Note: All my thanks @mskathywriteswords​ , @fangirlxwritesx67​, and @cracksinthewalls​ for making this story way better than it started. Thank you to everyone who read/reblogged/liked the first chapter. I hope you enjoy the story as much as I do. Also, hang on to something. This chapter is short, but it packs a bit of a punch.

I’m working on a follow-up to my Dean story Dear Mr. Fantasy that I hope to post sometime in the next few weeks. Check it out, if you haven’t, and let me know if you’re interested. 

Keep in Mind: There are a lot of flashbacks. I tried to write current events in present tense and flashbacks in past tense. Here’s hoping I got everything right!

Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY. 

In Case You Missed It: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Chapter 6

“I think we can officially call this morning a bust,” Kimber declares, collapsing into her office chair. Dean sighs, rubbing his forehead with one hand, the other propped on his hip. He doesn’t disagree.

“We checked the grad student office where I found Allen,” she says, checking off her mental list as she goes. “You checked out the stairwell where Helen fell. We found zilch in Dr. Lawrence’s office, and nothing here, as well. What’s next?”

“I’ll check in with Sam,” Dean decides, pulling out his cell. “Then maybe some lunch, and if Sam’s done, we’ll meet him at your place so we can start there. Sound good?”

She nods as Dean hits a button on his phone, raising it to his ear and turning away. Kimber’s eyes follow him as he paces the front of her small office, waiting for his brother to pick up. She stretches in her chair, feeling drowsy after the morning’s exertion, and she realizes she’s going to have to get up if she doesn’t want to fall asleep at her desk.

She moves towards the door, mouthing, “Bathroom,” to Dean, who nods as he listens intently to Sam. The brisk air in the corridor is bracing after the still warmth of her little office, and she takes a deep breath before turning towards the restrooms. The hallway is as close as the department gets to being crowded, with several classes letting out simultaneously. 

She pushes through the throngs of chattering students, smiling at a few of her own, intent on getting to the bathroom before it fills up, when she feels a light tap on her shoulder. Kimber turns, but before she has time to register anyone’s face, she feels something thrust into her outstretched palm.

…

Orange and red leaves flutter around her, joining the dense carpet of their brethren beneath her feet. Footsteps crunch before her, and she can see Dean just up ahead, her backpack slung over his shoulder. Dean never carries a backpack of his own, so they must have just finished a study session. He glances back, eyes alight with mischief, grin firmly in place.

“You comin’?” he asks. He doesn’t wait for an answer, just continues his casual saunter down the path as autumn rains down around them. “Wanna show you somethin’.”

She hurries to catch up, waving a stray leaf out of her face. The ground feels strange underfoot, too firm, her footfalls too loud for such a thick layer of leaves, but she’s too focused on Dean to pay much attention. Someone calls out behind them, but she’s determined to not be left behind a second time.

No matter how fast she runs, though, he stays a few paces ahead with his steady, cartoonishly slow pace, and she grits her teeth in frustration. 

Molasses would be an improvement.

“You’re gonna love this, sweetheart. C’mon, it’s just up ahead.” 

Their pursuer calls her name, closer this time, but Dean is right there, and if she can run just a little faster, she can catch him. She swats several leaves from the air, her mouth twisted in a frustrated frown, reaching out to Dean. 

“Kimber! Stop!”

A voice echoes from behind her, but then Dean turns, holding his hand out, and she stretches her fingers, her feet leaden as she drags her body forward. He smiles encouragingly, curling his finger to beckon her closer, his other arm spread wide to reveal his surprise. 

The trail ends abruptly at a sidewalk that leads to a house very similar to her parents’ old place (“They moved years ago,” she thinks), a house that was definitely not there before Dean pointed it out. The front door stands open wide, welcoming, as a sleek, black muscle car pulls up to the curb out front. Her eyes track the car’s approach, and she registers the name “Winchester” on the mailbox. 

Breathing suddenly becomes very difficult.

As she watches, a couple slides out of the front of the Impala. Kimber’s eyes widen in shock as she recognizes herself and Dean, though not older as they are now. Younger, maybe just a few years out of high school. 

But that’s not right, she thinks, her eyes flicking to seventeen-year-old Dean standing before her, urging her closer still. We’re not...we’re in high school, we aren’t grown...

The Dean before her holds his hand out silently, waiting as she struggles towards him. So close! she thinks. The voice behind her, so familiar, calls her name again, but her mind is foggy, distracted by young Dean and the phantom scene before her.

The couple embraces next to the car, blissfully unaware of their audience as Dean sweeps Kimber off her feet and carries her up the walkway. As they disappear into the house’s interior, she can hear her other self squealing happily as the door swings shut.

“I...can’t…”

Dean smiles at her, that sweet, just-a-touch shy smile that won her over so many years ago.

“It’s my dream, Kimber. We could still have it, if you want?” His eyes, so earnest, beg her to take just one more step. “Take my hand. It’s not too late for us. I’m right here.”

“Kimber, stop! Listen to me!”

She almost turns, the voice behind her is so desperate and beseeching, but Dean shakes his head. His smile widens, and he opens both arms to her, offering himself fully. 

“It’s our last chance. Come to me, Kimber. This can be ours, sweetheart. You and me, just the two of us. Just take that last step. You can do this.”

She wants to, so very badly. Her mind pulls towards Dean, smiling and hopeful, and she wants with almost every part of herself to take that step, take his hand, and live happily ever after.

But deep in her heart, she knows none of this is true. The Dean before her left, no matter how unwillingly, and she hasn’t heard from him until yesterday. Neither of them are seventeen any more, and this dream was never possible for either of them, no matter how much they wanted it.

“No...no...you’re not…”

He frowns, his expression suddenly cold, alien, and absolutely furious. His features harden, and he turns to her completely, squaring himself and giving her his entire focus. 

“Come here, Kimber. Take the damn step. Now.”

“No!” She doesn’t know where this reserve of strength is coming from, but she welcomes it. The fog begins to lift from her mind a little, and she manages half a step backwards.

Dean’s lip curls in a snarl, and she wrenches herself away, fighting to move in any direction but forwards. She throws herself back, expecting to fall, hoping the leaves will cushion her, planning to roll away.

Instead, she finds herself supported by strong arms that flood her senses with immediate relief. Something is jerked from her hand, and the autumn scene complete with the monstrous teenage Dean vanishes. The wind whips Kimbers hair in front of her face, and she looks down to see…

Nothing.

Arms pull her back from the edge of the building, and she chokes on a scream. Her self-defense training kicks in, and she throws her head back, trying to catch her assailant’s nose. 

“Kimber, it’s me! I’ve got you, don’t fight!”

It takes a second for Dean’s voice to register, and by the time she realizes she’s safe, she’s already planted her elbow square in his gut. He releases her with a pained wheeze, doubling over, holding up a placating hand towards her. She realizes in a detached sort of way that she is breathing way too shallow and fast, but she can’t seem to stop.

“Breathe,” he wheezes at her, trying to straighten up. Something about the ridiculous sight of Dean telling her to breathe when he can barely pull in his own breath cuts through her panic for a moment, and she almost laughs. Her head whirls, colors starting to blur together. 

From the view and the drop-off, she guesses they’re on the roof, though she’s never been up here before. She looks to Dean as her vision tunnels and a rushing noise fills her ears.

“Dean...Dean, you were...what did I…you said it was…”

Dean struggles upright and takes her face between his hands, forcing her to focus on him. “Breathe, honey. You’ve gotta breathe right now. Can you do that for me? Breathe with me. Slow, deep.”

She struggles to imitate him, and her lungs finally unlock enough to let in a reasonable amount of air. 

“Kimber, I’ve gotta burn this thing. I don’t know if it can affect you from a distance. Just...here. Sit down right here. Keep breathing.” She drops where she’s told, lowering her head between her knees as she focuses on counting her breaths. 

She can just make out Dean on the edge of her vision, crouching down. He pulls a lighter out of his pocket, flicks it, and lowers the flame to something on the ground before him. The object lights up with a whoosh of flame, and Kimber gasps as a searing bolt of pain flashes through her entire body before vanishing, leaving her feeling weak and shaking but finally, finally, back in control of herself.

Dean rises, stalks back over to her and drops to one knee, his fist pressing hard into the gravelled surface. He glares at the ground, his jaw clenching in a way that she’s glad is not directed at her. His nostrils flare, and his face flinches as he reaches some decision.

“I should never have let you go on your own. I’m not letting you out of my sight again until we gank this son of a bitch.”

She shrinks under the burning intensity of his words, and he closes his eyes for a second, wrestling with control of his anger. He holds a hand out to her, and she almost recoils, remnants of the vision burned in the back of her mind.

But this isn’t some sinister phantom leading Kimber to her death. She knows exactly who this is, and she trusts him implicitly.

Dean’s entire body relaxes when her palm touches his, and he drops his forehead to their joined hands. When he finally looks up at her, his eyes are green flame.

“I almost lost you. You were so close, Kimber, you were on the edge. I...”

He trails off, searching her face for a heavy moment. Without warning, he slides forward, releasing her hand to pull her face to his, kissing her with a fierceness that steals her breath and leaves her glad she’s already on the ground.

…

Chapter 7

[eazirel]

Since it’s pride month, I wrote something about my life as an effeminate man in Nigeria.

One thing Africa, to narrow the milieu, Nigeria is good at is upholding customs even though they clearly are backwards, distasteful, not toeing in line with good conscience, nor an aid to the development of its state. One moment it is discerning morality from its laws and the next using it as bases to its laws and still at that, giving mawkish backups as to what they feel morality is. And every passing day, I wonder how it quests to develop when its laws are backdated and the minds of its people thickly benighted.

Some time ago, I read a story of a very young boy who was tortured to death for being effeminate; He was killed for his love for cosmetics and make up. Amongst other things, his story entails the inhumanity of people who are fanatical and undampened towards their belief of things they do not understand.

Growing up, I was taught to be ashamed of being effeminate or associating with effeminate men, to make conscious efforts in being more manly, that being effeminate emasculates a man and it is not acceptable in the African society, as a matter of fact, that it is ungodlike and morally villainous.

People made it a responsibility to call me by the way I walk, ’boy girl, see as he dey waka like woman, you be man so? Which was not a bother in my early childhood, but not until my teenage years when people with unsolicited opinions not only identified me with being effeminate, but also asked my parents why it was so. My mother always had one particular defense, I don’t know how it came about but whenever she said it, it got them speechless and the most of them wrecking with superficial and ungenuine laughter on their faces .

‘He grew up amongst women, he never had much memory with men.’ This is something I heard year in and out. In fact, it became a defense my siblings used too when confronted about me at school and gradually, I began to see my effeminacy as a malnormal.

I made conscious efforts at altering my truest form. I began to walk as though I was to follow two imaginary parallel lines, I made sure I used less of my hands in talking, and I always tried to never get my legs too close to themselves. I dreaded glossing my lips for it might seem to appear too much to those who cared. Basically, I tried to adjust the things people were concerned about the most.

Although it was always a great relief when boys said I was gradually beginning to act like one, this in its totality was a problem. I spent the most of my time thinking and rehearsing how to be more masculine and appealing to people, which was worth far more than good grades to me. In a quest to be more manly, I prayed, fasted and waited on God for yet ungiven reasons.

The first thing I noticed in a man was how manly he was, and how I could trade all I had to at the very least to just walk as he does without having to rehearse how to. Certainly because, it was so depressing how my pairs counted me as female and all everybody did was laugh at it. I felt like a joke, nobody ever saw the problem with that, it never appeared to be derogatory or abusive. It was rather amusing, something that triggered laughter.

While at high school, about a year before my final year, the press club had a task of running school news at the school assembly every Wednesday morning. School news told students of their obligations, and keeps track on the goings on at the school. It also publicized and extoled students who did exceptional things. I had never made the school news so when I got an opportunity to, I worked very hard to getting in for the best. There was an inter class debate which held at the school and I was the first speak of my class. I read wide and made sure I came up with good arguments. I tested my speed, made sure I was articulate enough, and that my grammar was in check. My class emerged winner and I, the best speaker. I was so happy because had won and the principles comment about it was, ‘you have a mind of a reader’, which meant a whole lot, and because I was going to make it to the school news. On the Wednesday morning, the club’s correspondent who read out the school news spoke about the interclass debate which held and mentioned me as a sharer, and as though his audience needed further description of me, he added, “also known as the best male cat walker in the school”. I am an early bird who was always at the fore of the assembly ground and as soon as he said what he said, it became a parade of laughter, and from where I was standing, it was easy to point me out to anybody who never knew me before then. This kept on for weeks until the whole school had its fill.

This worked negatively on my esteem. It felt like the only place I was truly valued was in mind. Just because I was effeminate. I began to question my goals and tried hard to change what truly I wanted to be. I wanted to be a lawyer and a writer-it’s a good thing that I am both now- but for the fear of public opinion, I began to consider a profession that would have me relate with people less. And no sooner than necessary, my effeminacy was associated with weakness and the conventional impairing gender roles ascribed to women. For instance, a girl can come top of her class overly, and by test of I.Q, be much more probable to become successful in life, but not until she controverts the code, the Nigerian civilization will stand by its view on gender inequality. And this is almost so for effeminate men. In Nigerian thinking, effeminate men can only love girly things, “they can’t love football, they are natural born domestics, they are as good as women in colors, they make good event planners and make-up artist, they don’t seem to make good lawyers nor engineers, they aren’t sound enough to be politicians” and it goes on and on.

I wasn’t taken as a complete man, neither was I as a woman, it was as though I had a different category, ‘a man, but not a real one.’ And for this aggravated may quest to lock myself out to avoid defamatory confrontations from people.

People are fast at pinpointing flaws or what they think is, for the same reasons they see your worst side as the real you. There is always a comparison of whose sin is greater; looking down on other people, seeking to feel better about themselves, and at its peak, for the thought that their opinions matter in every circumstance, down to other people’s personal decisions.

Effeminate people suffer a great deal in Nigeria; ranging from Social and emotional violence, to abuse by security officers. i.e. the defunct anti-robbery squad (SARS). Before October 20th, 2020, an unforgettable day of the massacre of innocent and promising people of Nigeria at Lekki toll gate Lagos, Nigeria, just because they wanted to be heard, BBC Nigeria reported stories from effeminate Nigerian men who were detained and battered for being human. There was also another account of a man who lost his brother to the same governmental agency for being effeminate, and nobody notices this inhumanity.

A single paper cannot do justice to all the inhumanity effeminate men endure in Nigeria and I may not know enough about being effeminate, and probably never will. But one certain thing is, effeminacy is not a decision. It is not something one wakes up to make every morning. I mean, at this stage of my life, I love myself but for the sole fact that we are social beings, I would have changed every morning and maybe have my real self as an alter ego. And neither does effeminacy come from un-association with men or over-relationship with women. men are born men; masculine or effeminate. Effeminate men have the exact capabilities as other humans with same tendencies to succeed. Effeminate men are all shades of beauty, you just need a little bit of soul to see it.

©Johnson Israel2021.

[dawniebb]

Thoughts about Renegades

ALRIGHT FOLKS, TAKE A SEAT BC I’M ABOUT TO KICK MYSELF OUT OF THIS FANDOM :’)

Not really

But I’m going to rant for a while so perhaps you can go grab a snack or something :’)

So…I LOVE Renegades and I always will but I’ve been thinking about some of the things that seem…off to me. Not that they’re a big deal ofc (because I love Renegades in a really dumb and blind way) but some of them are quite unpopular opinions among the fandom, so I’m finally going to share them in case someone out there feels the same way X’DDDDD

They’re not in any particular order. Here we go:

- I completely stan the idea of Nova and Oscar and Nova and Callum being brotp material, but I stan Nova and Callum way more, not because I don’t like Nova and Oscar, but because I think it was genuinely good (and healthy) for Nova to have a friend out of Adrian’s circle. I mean, she’s been isolated most of her life now, and when I realized she finally had someone of her own… like, a person she met with whom she connected without Adrian introducing them to her, was a HUGE step. Callum is one of my favorite characters in the whole series, and when the t h i n g  happened I was devastated for MYSELF *sobs* but also because MM took him away from Nova. She opened to him more than she ever opened to Oscar throughout the three books. Sorry not sorry :’).

- AS A YOUNG ADULT (I’LL BE 20 IN MAY, YOU GUYS) let me tell you that all these dumbasses act like completely normal teenagers and all their shitty decisions sound like something I would’ve done when I was their age. Actually, the Team Sketch really reminds me of my own circle of friends. I’ve seen you guys complain about Adrian acting extremely dumb for his age but GUYS HE’S FUCKING 17. WHEN I WAS 17 I WAS AS CLUELESS AS HIM. ALL MY FRIENDS WERE. AND IT WAS SO STUPID IT HURT BUT SHIT BE LIKE THAT SOMETIMES. I was the Nova among them. That is: I joined their group hella late and one of the guys became my crush. I was so dumb I told him he was my crush when I was defeated on the floor with a dislocated knee because I was having a breakdown and I legit thought I was D Y I N G. Teenagers.Are.Like.That.

- HOWEVER, EVEN IF I JUST SAID ALL OF THAT….And I want to believe all of you agree with me: I don’t justify Oscar. It’s okay being a dumb teenager, but you can’t just ask your crush to be your girlfriend during a PUBLIC EXECUTION. That wasn’t romantic. At all. If I were Ruby I would’ve been really offended, no joke. (AT LEAST WHEN I TOLD *MY* CRUSH WHILE I THOUGHT MY LEG WAS GOING TO BE AMPUTATED, WE WERE IN CHORUS CLASS. ALL THE GUYS WERE SINGING TO ME BC THEY THOUGHT THAT WOULD CALM ME DOWN. IT WAS A GROSS AND ODDLY SWEET MOMENT, YOU KNOW?).

- I feel like Ruby is…I’m not going to say mistreated, but…Idk. I feel like she’s trying her best and she’s kind to everyone in the group and in some parts of the books they just…forget about her :’). (This may be Marissa’s fault, though). Which makes me really sad, because she’s genuinely sweet and I felt like she was the most welcoming to Nova since the very beginning (Apart from Adrian, of course).

- I’m part of the “Leroy switched sides at some point” squad, but at the same time I believe he’s just very, VERY chaotic neutral and (I’m never giving up on this) since he loved Nova, he would just stick to the side where they promised to keep her safe, even if that meant being jumping back and forth between the Renegades and the Anarchists.

- I ALSO BELIEVE WINSTON MAH BOI SAW A LOT OF HIMSELF IN NOVA. To my particular point of view, his mental state was the most stable when she moved with them. He unconsciously tried to stop her from becoming what he’d become and the Anarchists realized that, so when they found Ace’s little human weapon being threatened, they just teared her away from Winston, which caused his mental health to go downhill again until he ended up all psychotic (which is how we got to meet him during Renegades).

- Honey had way more complicated issues than just being “evil”. Yes. She’s dead. And me defending her won’t make her less dead. And I know she got what she deserved because she was…completely out of control and Marissa tends to kill those who are too far gone (take Levana as an example). But I think that if she hadn’t neglected her own mental health so much she would’ve had a chance; Honey had good in her :’) maybe, before meeting Ace, she was a different person. Like, it’s mentioned she grew up in a small farm. I think she fell in love with him at some point and, by the way he talks to her sometimes, I’m *almost* sure he knew that, so he tried to take advantage of the situation to keep her in line, even though he had no intention to reciprocate her feelings. Sure, Honey is a manipulative brat, but she’s a hundred times worse when she knows Ace is around or when she knows she has a chance to get him back (she goes batshit crazy in the cathedral, you know?). Ace was a power-hungry sociopath/psychopath and she was a depressed, also power-hungry woman who was in love with him. And that’s a BAD combination. Honey Harper was hopeless… and I think she even showed some signs of Stockholm Syndrome.

- Still, Honey and Nova’s relationship reminds me a lot of my relationship with my dad. Theirs was a toxic relationship, but since I’ve been through that (still going through that), I refuse to believe it will be easy for Nova to overcome her death *that* easily. They loved each other in a…violent, weird way, but Honey was Nova’s mother more than Tala ever got the chance to be (because Ace took that opportunity away from her) and if Honey hadn’t been so –like I mentioned before- hopeless, they could’ve fixed their relationship until it was normal and healthy, because Honey showed signs of loving Nova, and Nova showed signs of loving her.

- Every death in Supernova had a very specific narrative purpose but, even if I hate Evander as much as y’all do, I think his death was done for the sake of the shock factor afgshja like, he died in such a sudden, meaningless way :’).

- Tamaya is nothing but wasted potential. You have a savage, feral, badass woman with w i n g s and the only thing she does is getting her fucking face burned and throwing fists with entitled teenagers.

- I LIVE for Simon and Hugh as couple, but (gosh, saying this makes me feel really guilty) the fact that they didn’t share not even ONE kiss throughout the trilogy made me feel really queerbaited :’). Same thing happened with Danna and Narcissa, but I think that was PLAIN half-assed.

-Why doesn’t Adrian has Simon’s last name as well? :’)

- ADRIAN NEEDS THERAPY AS MUCH AS NOVA DOES. LET’S BREAK THIS DOWN, HERE WE GO:

*So, we know that Marissa Meyer’s male characters are always really sweet and kind and wholesome and omg :’)…and then there’s fucking Jacin (whom I love, but that doesn’t minimize the fact he shall burn in hell X’DDDD) . I mean, he’s kind…to Winter and Winter only…and Cress…sometimes. When it comes to Winter, he’s capable of a lot, A LOT of things. He comes off as rude many times (especially to Cinder, during Cress) and…yeah. He looks like he could kill you and he could ACTUALLY kill you; I feel like the fandom moves Adrian to …whatever category Kai’s in….but I’m not sure that’s the case. Let’s analyze Cinder’s equivalent to Nova’s bracelet: Peony’s chip; Kai was mad at Cinder, FUCKING mad. But once he kinda figured out Cinder was grieving his sister and keeping the only thing she had left from her for emotional reasons, he didn’t, under any circumstance, no matter how much he hated Cinder at the moment, want that chip to be taken away from her. Kai had lost his father. He KNEW what it felt like and he didn’t want anyone to feel the same way, because he SAW Cinder suffer her little sister’s death. Adrian had lost his mother and he knew Nova had lost both her mother and her father AND her little sister; she had opened up enough to tell him that bracelet was the only thing she had left from her father…and when he learned Nova was Nightmare, instead of interrogating her, taking a sample of her blood or things like that, he straight took her bracelet. Because Adrian was hurt and he wanted her to be hurt too, so he took away the one thing that mattered the most to her and THAT WASN’T VERY KAI OF HIM IF YOU ASK ME. My point is, sadly: Adrian is ABSOLUTELY traumatized due to his mother’s death (who wouldn’t?) and now that he knows he indirectly killed her he will only get WORSE. He hated Nova for being Nightmare just because he thought she had something to do with Georgia’s death, so when things went to shit, he did her in the dirtiest way he could, making her feel hated and unwanted, which were Nova’s delicate spots afgshja…like, Adrian’s capable of a lot of things(just like Jacin). He NEEDS therapy. Now.

- The heated kiss scene during Archenemies is both heartbreaking and beautiful at the same time (besides…you know, heated). Nova’s so touch-starved she gets overwhelmed when Adrian suddenly gives her all the physical affection she didn’t have during her childhood. And…I feel it was a very intimate moment between both of them, because they were physically and emotionally invested and omg. This only makes my previous point (about the bracelet) more horrible, because I can’t imagine how she must’ve felt when he took away her bracelet with so.much.hatred.

-WE DESERVED TO KNOW THE CHANGES THAT WERE MADE TO THE SYSTEM BC TBH THE RENEGADES SYSTEM WAS SHITTY AF… It’s like…they claimed to be against what the Anarchists did but then suddenly they were doing the same things themselves. And I don’t think that’s fair. The Renegades acted as messed up as the Anarchists during Supernova. They wanted to EXECUTE a MINOR who committed MINOR CRIMES. I mean, what did Nightmare even do? Right, she tried to assassinate Hugh but she FAILED, and she neutralized Team Frostbite in SELF-DEFENSE and in Max’s defense.

- Besides, the way Anarchists were treated was...really inhuman. As far as I understand, they didn’t have access to public services or anything like that. What if they needed meds? Where did they get their food from? Did they have, like, fucking running water? Electricity? There are also three women among them and they get *periods*, people, and *period stuff* is expensive as fuck. Like, did they have to steal tampons? And if they did…were they chased because of it? Even though they had no way to get income in a legal way because they were Anarchists and being out there like normal people was against the rules for them? Lol?

- JESUS THAT SYSTEM REALLY NEEDED TO BE CHANGED LMAO AFGSHJA

-Also, Cragmoor? Wtf.

- AND, LAST BUT NOT LEAST, NOT BECAUSE I DON’T HAVE ANYTHING ELSE TO SAY BUT BECAUSE THIS IS TOO LONG ALREADY: It think Nova and Evie have been apart for too long and it’s going to be hard for them to create a bond. They’ll have to get used to it, because it’s going to be confusing for Nova and, given the fact Evie’s personality is…like that, I think she’ll go as far to blame Nova like “But you were SUPPOSED to look for me.”

I rest my case.

[crimsonbluemoon]

8, 6, 32 w minicat pleeeease! :D

Okay, last of the drabbles and this one is a doozy. >.> Like 10 pages long, ugh. But Grace deserves it cause she’s been my rock during these drabblez and really helped me commit to getting them done. Thank you so much for your support! Please enjoy this as my thanks. 

AU: College 

Trope: Fake dating

Prompt: “Shut up for a second, will you?”

Pairing: Minicat

Tyler wasn’t stupid; he knew he was one of the last choices people thought of when needing help with something on campus. In his defense, he was busy; his parents’ low income meant he had to have a full time job while also maintaining a high GPA for his scholarships for his overly priced college. His classes were tough, never wasting time on filler courses when he was paying thousands of dollars to attend. It meant hours of homework after long shifts, sometimes all nighters. He didn’t have the time of day to breathe, nevermind think about others. Brock, probably being too understanding of a roommate (Tyler didn’t give a shit what anyone thought of him, but Brock’s sad eyes always hit him far too hard to ignore), never pushed him to engage in extra socializing or unnecessary events. Brock’s dumbass boyfriend tried (seriously, how did Brian manage to swindle Brock into falling in love with him? Gross.) to provide Tyler with ‘the college life’, which was harder than getting water from a rock. 

But even Tyler wasn’t a big enough dick to miss Brock’s birthday party. 

At least the venue was nice; Tyler swirled the water in the fancy glass while he leaned on the country club’s bar, watching the large group of strangers mingle. Brian came from money that far exceeded Brock and Tyler’s wildest dreams. Brock almost never allowed Brian to spoil him, which had been a different experience for Brian. It still bothered Tyler how lost Brian first looked when they both turned down his money for ‘hanging out with him’. Tyler had seen his flustered roommate refuse to let the rich brat pay for a two dollar water bottle once. So when Brock had finally, finally caved enough to let Brian pay for his birthday party, Brian didn’t hesitate to go over the top. Every person who Brock had ever met seemed to be at the event, filling the room with hundreds of people. 

Tyler hadn’t bothered following his roommate when Brian pulled him somewhere twenty minutes ago. Honestly, knowing those two, he didn’t want to see what they were up to. Brock had morals, but Brian was a charmer. He used it for teachers, police, and anyone who had eyes and the smallest of hints of attraction toward men. Seriously, Tyler had seen Brian give far too many straight guys a gay panic for it not to be seen as a freaky mutant power. Brock was helplessly in love with Brian (seriously, why?), which meant he was even more likely to fall for any of Brian’s sneaky schemes. 

Especially when it resulted in sex. 

“Ugh.” Scrunching his nose at the thought, Tyler took another swig of his drink before scanning the crowd again. So far, the event had been pretty tame, which was saying something for Brian. His parties were always over the top for all the wrong reasons. If the police weren’t called, it was seen as a failure, according to Panda. But Brock had asked Brian to make the party alcohol free, and like the sucker for pretty brown eyes he was, Brian had agreed. 

Tyler glanced down at his phone again, wondering when Evan and Panda were going to show up. They were the only friends he bothered with when Brock hung a sock on their apartment door. Evan had texted saying they’d got stuck in a late lab and had told them he’d be coming late. So Tyler, lacking the only three (and a half; Brian was okay when he cooked breakfast) people he actually liked at the party, was alone. But what the fuck else was new? It was better that way. He knew that too many people would just distract him from was important. His grades, his future, and his goals in life. So what if he spent more Fridays alone than with people? That his phone could go three days without a text? That he hadn’t gotten laid in over a year? And so what if some nights, his stupid heart wondered what it’d be like to have a disgusting relationship like Brian and Brock, to be pointlessly cared for and overly adored-

“Really, you should go.” The voice that cut into Tyler’s self-loathing made him frown, refocusing his eyes to pinpoint where it’d come from. Two seats down from the bar he’d inhabited alone (because who would wanna hang out at a bar with no alcohol?), a guy that Tyler recognized looked stiff when staring at another leaning completely into his space. It took a second for Tyler to realize who it was; Craig was a high school friend of Brian’s, and had become one of Brock’s good friends when Brian and Brock started dating two years ago. Craig also went to their college, making a name for himself despite the thousands of students. He was always busy, invested in way too many clubs and groups between his classes. They were so different, that Tyler saw no reason to befriend him. 

Except Craig had tried to get to know Tyler. Despite being busy and having far too many social groups for Tyler’s liking, Craig had actually always made an effort to create small talk whenever they bumped into each other. They weren’t friends, really; maybe acquaintances if Tyler was being generous. Since Craig was Brian’s best friend, he was around more often than Tyler was comfortable with. 

Because Craig was good looking, flirted worse than Brian, and was just a damn distraction. He was someone that could yank Tyler’s attention from important homework or project’s due dates to argue about how ‘culturally important’ The Office was. Sometimes he got Tyler to explain what he was working on, which devolved into little conversations about their lives that had nothing to do with the original topic. Craig learned about Tyler’s complicated relationship with money, while Tyler heard stories about Craig’s struggles with depression. He knew about Craig’s promiscuous years when he was a teenager, which led into the conversation of how both discovered their bi-sexuality. One time, Craig’s eyes shined with excitement while he told Tyler all about his dream of becoming a marine biologist.

Tyler had barely finished his term paper that night.

In a little over two years, Craig snuck his way under Tyler’s skin like a weed. Each time Tyler swore he wouldn’t let Craig get his attention (because he had to stay focused), the busy body made it a point to prove him wrong. Brian had mentioned Craig to Tyler a few times when trying to get him to come out with their group, like he was some bargaining chip. Like Brian knew something that Tyler didn’t. 

It annoyed Tyler how often he ended up at those events.  

Normally the first to wear a grin far too big for his face, there was no sign of a smile now. Craig’s body language was telling Tyler all he needed to know about the predicament; these two were not friends. “Does Brian even know you’re here? Because I doubt Brock invited you.” 

“I’m a plus one of a friend. The new boy toy seemed to forget my invitation in the mail.” There was a cockiness in the stranger’s voice that instantly pissed Tyler off, his eyes narrowing as the conversation continued.

“Yeah, maybe because you’re Brian’s shitty ex-boyfriend, and he’d rather eat shards of glass than see your face again. And Brock’s not a boy toy; they’re actually in love. I know, new concept for you.” Craig’s snark was coated in a sweet tone that seemed to rub the ex the wrong way, though Tyler got a small chuckle out of it. Craig was always presented as cheerful and energetic, but one on one talks proved there was more sarcasm than sweetness. He was Brian’s friend after all.

“You think Brian’s going to actually manage to keep an innocent guy like that? We both know he’s far too self-destructive for that kind of happily ever after. Why do you think he always comes back to me each time?” Okay, Tyler could conceed he wasn’t always the nicest to Brian, but he also knew the guy wasn’t trash. Brian was good for Brock, as annoying as that was. And this punk was really starting to push Tyler’s buttons. 

“Brian’s happy, actually happy. Brock wants him, not his wallet, and you’re not ruining that. So you need to leave, now.” Craig’s firm words didn’t have the effect that he wanted, and Tyler felt his teeth clench when the other man stepped into Craig’s personal space, posturing. 

“Don’t think you can really make me. Last time didn’t go so well for you, did it?” This guy had muscle, and was obviously taller than the man sitting on the bar stool. Craig’s lips looked tense when they pressed together tightly, but Tyler could pick up on the slight flinch of his shoulders. This guy didn’t just bother Craig; he scared him. He was trying not to show it, but Tyler was sure it was a well known fact by how cruel the smirk on the other man’s face was. “How’s your arm, by the way? Fractures can be a pain in the ass, so I’ve heard. Still got that pop in your shoulder?”

“It’s fine.” The tone was quieter than before, and Craig pressed closer to the stool’s back, Still, his eyes shone brightly with defiance, unwilling to lower. And after a moment of tense silence, Craig surprised Tyler when his lip rose in a half-cocked grin. “How’s your dad? Divorces can be a pain in the ass, so I’ve heard. He still got that freckle on the tip of his-”

“You fucking slut.” Tyler was out of his seat before the guy could raise his fist, catching the punch inches from Craig’s face. Craig let out a surprised squeak, but Tyler didn’t look back when he used the contact to shove the man back, stepping between him and Craig.

“Don’t even think about it.” He didn’t need to posture or present himself as intimidating; his broach shoulders and tall genetics already did the work for him. While this guy had looked impressive in front of Craig, he wasn’t nearly as intimidating when compared to Tyler’s glare and tense shoulders. 

“Who the fuck are you? His boyfriend?” The words were snapped off like an insult, as if the guy thought dating Craig was the worst punishment someone could have. From the corner of his eyes, he picked up on the wince behind Craig’s glasses, knowing he’d heard the same disgust Tyler had. Craig’s sexual history wasn’t hidden knowledge, though how much he’d changed since high school seemed less known. Sighing, Craig pushed out of his seat, shoulders dropped in shame. Like maybe he agreed with the scumbag.

“He’s-” 

“Yeah, I am.” In a move that was far more suited for Brian, Tyler reached out, snagging Craig’s hip and yanking him closer. It was impulsive and fucking stupid, but Tyler’s heart lost track of it’s beat when feeling Craig’s warm body meld against his. It felt like a perfect match, with Craig’s head bumping against his collar bone before settling into the crook of Tyler’s neck. He let his arm drop around the waist, keeping Craig plastered to him to support the act he still wasn’t sure he wanted to perform. “Is that a fucking problem, asshole?” 

“Tyler…” Craig’s lost tone didn’t sound right for the man who two nights ago gushed about the astrology compatibility on Tyler’s couch. He tried not to focus on how annoyed that made him, burning his glare into the man who now snorted.

“Oh, wow. You really want to claim this trainwreck? The kid’s had more people in him than the New York subway station.” The insult was tossed out without hesitation, like it was used far too often in correlation to Craig. The body against his tensed for a second before going limp, the words sucking whatever fight was left in Craig’s body out. And Tyler didn’t know anything about this situation, shouldn’t have cared about Craig’s happiness or the weird past these two had. This was Brian’s drama, Brock’s fight, Craig’s problem. It didn’t mean shit to Tyler, had no correlation to his future. Because it wasn’t his job to help people. 

But that excuse wasn’t good enough this time.

“You talk about my boyfriend like that again, and I’ll knock your fucking teeth out.” He added no growl or movement to his threat, making sure his words were clear and deadly in their presentation. His hand squeezed the hip under his palm, letting the line between pretend and reality blur for a moment. “He’s mine. I don’t care what people think of us; I don’t give a fuck what he did before me. And I ain’t worry about anyone else coming after me, cause I’ll make sure he doesn’t need to find someone else. If those idiots couldn’t keep him satisfied, that was their loss. I don’t have a problem in that department. My only problem at the moment is you.”

“I never fucked-” But Tyler didn’t want to hear what this asshole had to say.

“Out of respect for my roommate, I’m not beating the shit out of you for hurting Craig before. But I’m really losing my patience. If you ever come near Craig again, I’ll make sure they don’t find your body. And since my boyfriend likes that dumbass Brian, he tends to hang out with him alot. Enough that you might bump into Craig if you bug him. That would be a bad day for you. You understand, or do you need specific details?” 

Tyler didn’t interact with people often, but he sure as hell knew how to threaten someone.

“You-whatever. Brian’s not worth this shit. Enjoy your five minutes with Craig while it lasts.” Tyler could hear the fear in the guy’s voice when he turned tail, but he didn’t let his eyes move away from the glare he’d pinned on him since the threat. 

“Your dad’s dick is small!” Craig’s shout at the guy retreating made Tyler roll his eyes, sending a look that made Craig smile sheepishly. “Well, it is.” 

“I don’t need to know that,” he answered, feeling the chest against his ribs vibrate with Craig’s laugh.

“Aw, come on. You know what you were getting when you made me your boyfriend.” Craig’s smile was a nice change of pace, and Tyler’s arms pulled him closer without thought. A moment of surprise passed through both of them, Tyler unsure why he hadn’t dropped his hold on Craig’s waist. He knew the guy was long gone, and their act didn’t need to continue. Yet his brain and body didn’t seem to be on the same page. Craig looked pleased at the lack of distance, curling a hand on the back of Tyler’s neck. But the hesitant bite of his lower lip proved that the bravado wasn’t fully felt. “Rumors are gonna start, you know. If you’re looking to get yourself out of this alive, we shouldn’t be so close.”

“I already said I don’t care what people think of us.” 

“But that was when-”

“Shut up for a second, will ya?” Tyler sighed at the headache that was forming behind his eyes. This was why he didn’t deal with people. “If it’s going to bug you or whatever, then we can make sure Brian spreads it was a joke. But I don’t have a social life, and I really could give two fucks what anyone but my teachers think about me. And if having people think I’m your boyfriend keeps assholes like that from harassing you, then use it.”

“You don’t mind? You really don’t mind being labelled as my boyfriend?” There was a spark of excitement in Craig’s tone when his eyes looked up at Tyler with an awe that made him squirm in discomfort. He felt his face flush at the attention, his stomach twisting in a way he couldn’t explain. 

“How many times do I have to say that I don’t care-” 

And then Craig was kissing him. The suddenness of the lips on his made Tyler’s mouth part in surprise. Craig took the opportunity to deepen the kiss and hum in pleasure. The softness of the tongue against his was mind-numbing, Tyler unsure how to counter the skill that Craig used. But after a second, he decided he needed to try. The fingers trailing lightly along the back of his neck during their leisure kiss had goosebumps rising on his skin, Tyler’s hands yanking Craig closer to feel the smaller body flush against his. The slight wiggle of Craig’s waist against his own proved the movement was appreciated, and Tyler only broke the kiss when soft lips sucked his tongue in a way far too familiar to an act he didn’t want to think about in public. 

“That was nice.” Craig’s grin was pressed to Tyler’s slack lips, his breath even as he dropped a small peck between his next sentence. “We should definitely do that more to sell this whole boyfriend thing. Maybe in a bed and with less clothes on. A snapchat or two, you know, commit to our roles and such.”

“Jesus Christ.” He wanted it to sound exacerbated, not breathless, but it was obvious he missed his mark when Craig tossed his head back and laughed. Tyler stared down at the bright smile of his… something, arms tightening to keep Craig close. Unsure how he had gotten there, he only knew one thing for certain.

He was never helping someone out again.

[maxdark158]

This is chapter two of my fic based on @ozmav ‘s Damian Wayne x Marinette Dupain-Cheng au that I LOVE, please check them out.

Angel in Gotham: Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Ao3

Demon in Gotham: Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Ao3

Fanart for AiG: Riddler ~ Joker thank you @thegreysman

Please tag me in any fanart you draw for this guys ^^

oooOOOooo

“Marinette, seriously?” The annoyed voice of Marinette’s once-best-friend Alya Cesaire was grating to her now. “You need to stop running away just for attention, it won’t work.”

It had been a long day for Marinette. It started off well, even after being forgotten by her class, because she got to hang out with Damian. But The Riddler kind of spoiled that. After her talk with the police, Damien waited with her for a teacher to pick her up from the station. They parted when her teacher arrived, Marinette promising to text him when she got to her hotel room.

The teacher that picked her up was Professor Mendeleiev. While the science teacher’s strictness had unnerved Marinette for years, lately she had begun wishing she was in her class instead of Ms. Bustier’s. Ms. Bustier’s tactics of being a better example for a bully were starting to wear on her. Professor Mendeleiev wasn’t perfect, but Marinette would have taken being in her class over being in Ms. Bustier’s now.

When the teacher asked why Marinette had been away from the group in the first place, Marinette told her that she had been forgotten by Ms. Bustier and her class. Professor Mendeleiev went silent after that.

The rest of the ride was silent too.

It was silent until Professor Mendeleiev dropped her off at her room where Alya was waiting to rip into her about being attention-seeking and rude.

“Hello?” she sounded angry now. “Are you even listening to me? Do you think if you ignore us we’ll believe you were ever nice again? Lila told us the truth about who you are, you-”

“Alya!” her teacher snapped. “Your classmate was caught in a villain attack today. Leave her alone.”

Alya gaped. “But”

“That was not a request,” Professor Mendeleiev growled. “Do you think you can escape my detentions because we are on vacation?”

Alya squeaked and ran off to her room.

Marinette blinked, not quite sure what just happened. Relief was the cool feeling applied to a headache, stopping the pain.

“Thank you,” she mumbled. Professor Mendeleiev nodded and stalked off, mumbling something about having a long overdue talk with ‘Caline’.

Alya must have gone back to her hotel room, as Marinette didn’t encounter her or anyone else on her way back to her room.

The relief hit again, but the hint of sadness was like mint in her mouth and wetness on her cheek, despite her not actually crying.

It was hard to remember that Alya used to be her best friend. It got harder every time Alya got after her for bullying or lying or anything else that she didn’t actually do. Marinette almost wishes they hadn’t ever become friends, the betrayal would have hurt less.

It seems some wounds take years to heal.

Marinette arrived at her room and unlocked the door with her room key. She entered and immediately flopped on her bed.

“Marinette, are you alright?” she heard Tikki ask.

“I’m just tired,” she mumbled. “I’m more used to akumatized villains, not insane people with riddle obsessions.”

She felt Tikki brush aside some of her hair. “I’m just glad you’re alright. You scared me for a moment, Marinette. I don’t know what I would have done if I lost you.”

Marinette smiled. “Thanks, Tikki.”

“It’s simply the truth! Also, didn’t you tell that boy you would text him?”

Her eyes widened. Marinette rolled over and got her phone out of her purse. “Thanks for reminding me!”

Tikki giggled out a, “no problem,” and rested on Marinette’s stomach.

Angel: I’m at the hotel now.

Damian: That’s good Damian: Did you get in trouble?

Marinette smiled to herself. It felt nice, being worried about… Even if she didn’t want him to worry. But the fact that he cared felt like a warm hug.

Angel: Professor Mendeleiev must’ve been tired or something. Angel: She didn’t leacture

She frowned. That had to be wrong.

Angel: Lecture?

Damian: *lecture

Marinette rolled her eyes. In the two days she had known Damian, she knew he was a stickler for grammar. Though he wasn’t harsh about his corrections, as he knew English wasn’t her first language, it was a tad annoying. Marinette was much better at speaking and reading in English than she was at spelling.

Angel: Quiet, English is hard

Damian: Understandable. Damian: In my original question I meant any of your classmates btw

Angel: btw? Angel: Oh by the way

Damian: yeah

Angel: I’m good at text slang in French, okay

Damian: I don’t doubt you

She rolled her eyes and smiled. Annoying, but the banter was nice. It wasn’t like with Chat Noir when he was trying to flirt with her.

Angel: Anyway Alya tried to bother me but I’m good now Angel: Professor Mendeleiev told her off for bothering me after my ‘traumatic’ encounter with a Gotham villain

Damian: Speaking of, are you SURE you’re alright Angel

Ooh, capital letters. He must be really worried. Guilt rested on her shoulders again on that day.

Angel: I’m fine Angel: I’ve survived akuma for three years, I’m not about to let some riddle fanatic with terrible clothing choices ruin my day

Damian: His clothes are that bad?

Good, subject change. Maybe she can get him to stop worrying.

Angel: Too much green, for one Angel: Green shouldn’t be used in large portions when it’s that bright of a shade Angel: Also the cloth itself was cheap, but the kind of cheap meant to look expensive if you don’t know cloth good

Damian: *well

Marinette smiled. She hoped her little intentional mistake would make him stop worrying.

Angel: Whatever Angel: Also his hat didn’t match the type of suit he was wearing Angel: If he wants to go old fashioned he should at least match the time period Angel: Longer coat, more layers Angel: He is an atrocity

Damian: he is

Angel: If I had time to cry then my tears would had been blood

Damian: *have

“Seriously,” she grumbled to herself. The guilt had long since lifted but Damian’s need for correct grammar was going to drive her mad.

Angel: istg

Damian: It appears you’re learning

Angel: Yepp

Damian: Also the Gotham news posted an article online about you Damian: “Unnamed Teenager From France Holds off The Riddler Until Batman Arrives!”

Angel: Wait what? Angel: But we both held him off?

Damian: I was kind of useless, you did most of the work Damian: I left shortly after you solved his riddle because the Robins had arrived

Marinette breathed a sigh of relief. She had been scrolling through the article Damian had mentioned, realizing that it did not have any mention of her throat punching The Riddler. It did say she took him down with physical force, but it was in self-defense and she was okay.

She just didn’t want Damian to find out she punched someone in the throat. It would make him think she was violent and he’d hate her forever and never talk to her again and she’d loose the only friend she’s made in the last three years and-

Her phone, which had fallen asleep, buzzed again.

Damian: You there?

Marinette sighed, mentally reining her anxieties in.

Angel: Yeah. I was just reading the article Angel: The Riddler was bad at hand to hand combat. It was easy to take him down with the practice I have from Paris

Damian: I bet. Damian: It’s getting late, Angel. We should go to bed. Damian: Goodnight

Angel: Goodnight Angel: Also I’ll find a chat name for you soon, promise

Damian: lol okay

Marinette smiled and put her phone away. Hopefully, she would get to spend more time with him tomorrow.

This was day three of their trip to Gotham. The entire trip lasted nine days. She wanted to make the most of her trip by spending time with her friend until she had to leave.

While the thought brought a brief sadness, she put it out of her mind and continued to get ready for bed.

oooOOOooo

Marinette managed to get up on time this morning.

Meaning, she woke up from a nightmare at around four am and couldn’t go back to sleep after that because she started fully sketching out some of her outfit ideas she had yesterday. She even made a few based off the Gotham heroes, coloring those ones in.

Despite all the designing she finished, Marinette was still the first one ready and in the lobby where the class is supposed to meet every morning.

Marinette was wearing her messier clothes today. After yesterday where she confronted The Riddler in leggings, she decided to stick to pants today too. She loved the dress she brought but it would not work if she managed to confront another villain.

Besides, the dress code was more lenient today. Marinette had on a white crop top with her signature flower pattern and dark gray overalls on. She had her hair in a French braid so it was out of her face. Her tennis shoes were the same pink as the flowers and as always, she had her purse for Tikki.

When the teachers came down to wait for the class, they saw Marinette there. Professor Mendeleiev gave her a nod, to which Marinette smiled. Ms. Bustier looked conflicted for a moment before ultimately deciding to sit down away from both her and Professor Mendeleiev.

The class began to filter in. Marinette made sure to stay out of sight from everyone but the teachers. They grouped together, talking about mindless things. Mostly about what they’d do with their afternoon. Today they were going to the Gotham City Heroes and Villains Museum in the morning, then after lunch the rest of the day was free until 5:30 pm.

Lila arrived last. Marinette knew that she likely did it so everyone noticed her entrance. She also realized that Lila arrived a few minutes before everyone had to get on the busses, so people had time to talk to and about her.

The designer simply tuned the liar out. She didn’t care anymore.

Well, she didn’t until she heard a certain name.

“Damian is such a sweetheart,” Marinette glanced up from her phone. “We might get back together again soon, I’m not sure though. I hope so.”

“I forgot that you’re on and off,” she heard someone else say, though who didn’t matter.

“Did you say Damian?” Marinette asked before she thought out the action. Her voice was loud enough that suddenly everyone was staring at her as if they forgot she was there in the first place.

They likely had.

“Uh, yeah,” Alya scoffed. “Lila and Damian Wayne are an on and off thing. You’d know that if you weren’t skipping the field trip for attention.”

“Alya, it’s alright,” Lila sighed. “We keep it out of the tabloids and Marinette doesn’t like me, it’s not her fault she didn’t know.”

“That sounds like it’s her fault! Marinette just needs to get over herself!”

Marinette was tuning her classmates out. She felt like an idiot. But at the same time, he never told her. He must have had a reason for telling her.

But there was no mistaking it. The Riddler called him, “Wayne.” They met when she was trying to get into Wayne Enterprises. His first name was Damian and he knew the tour guide…

She tuned back into her classmates’ conversation.

“Anyway, Damian and I went and got ice cream last afternoon. That’s why I was gone, you see. He would have walked me back, but we would have attracted a crowd. Plus he got a little chocolate ice cream on his shirt, he’s so messy.”

Marinette closed her eyes. Rage is hot and fiery, her nails dug into her palms.

Calling Lila out does nothing.

But she couldn’t help but remember Damian telling her that chocolate ice cream was among his least favorites when they went to get ice cream yesterday.

And he isn’t messy.

oooOOOooo

Marinette found the museum interesting. It gave her some anxiety, learning about everything villains did to the city was nerve-wracking.

She wondered if there would ever be a Paris Museum for Akuma.

It also gave her some ideas. Learning about the Gotham Hero’s greatest feats and how they accomplished them was eye-opening.

She was doing this whole battling-Hawkmoth-thing wrong! Instead of a case by case akuma battle, which are much less frequent nowadays, she should partner with the police! There were cameras all over Paris and, unlike Kwami, corrupted butterflies appeared on them. Hawkmoth may only be attacking around once a month now, but he still needed to own up to the terror he reigned on Paris and the world.

Marinette felt a little stupid for not realizing all of this before, she realized as she whispered her ideas to Tikki in the bathroom. She could have ended it sooner if she thought to get investigative about her enemy.

But as interesting and terrifying as the museum was, the trip only took the morning. By lunch, her classmates were waiting for the teachers to decide who to take where, as no restaurant had enough room for all of them.

She pulled out her phone and opened her text chat with Damian.

Angel: Kill me now

Damian: What’s wrong?

Angel: We have to all get lunch as a class before I’m free Angel: I’m in the group with Liar Rossi Angel: Death would be sweatier

Marinette mumbled a curse under her breath. She meant sweeter! Stupid autocorrect.

Damian: *sweeter

Angel: Rude

Damian: Anyway Damian: You can’t die yet Damian: We still technically didn’t get ice cream

She managed to smile. Damian made her do that a lot now that she thought about…

Her phone pinged again.

Damian: Also you’re at the Gotham City Heroes and Villains Museum right?

Angel: Yes I am

Damian: I’m nearby

Marinette’s eyes widened. What?

Damian: I can pick you up for lunch

Angel: OMG really? Please do I’d really really like that

Damian: omw

She looked up, seeing that her teachers were still discussing. She walked up to them, waiting until they saw her.

Ms. Bustier did first. “Marinette! What did you need?”

“My friend invited me to eat lunch with him,” she looked at Professor Mendeleiev as she spoke, not Ms. Bustier. “May I go?”

“After what happened yesterday? I don’t thi-” Ms. Bustier was cut off by Professor Mendeleiev.

“Is this the friend you were at the station with?” she asked, voice sharp. Marinette nodded.

Professor Mendeleiev hummed, contemplating. Ms. Bustier gaped at her. “You can’t be considering allowing her to go!” she said, “Not after how mad you got at me-”

“Caline, I got mad at you for forgetting her. Allowing her to go is not the same thing,” Professor Mendeleiev glared at her, “We’re allowing you to go on your own after lunch anyway, as long as everyone has a buddy. Finding you a buddy in this class, however, is likely going to be difficult…”

She trailed off before digging into her bag. “We got trackers for this free afternoon, though we couldn’t afford them for everyone,” she brought out a black bracelet that looked plastic. “This will only give me your general location. We will still have enough for everyone else as long as they’re in pairs. If you take one, I will allow you to go to lunch and such with your friend.”

Ms. Bustier’s brows furrowed. “You’re giving her special treatment? But-”

“Caline, you forgot her twice,” Professor Mendeleiev sounded patient, as if she were an adult talking to a toddler. “Marinette earned this and she will be with a friend from Gotham, something nobody else in this class truly has besides her.”

“This is my class,” Ms. Bustier was beginning to fume. “You accompanied because two teachers were needed, but these are my students-”

“Caline,” Professor Mendeleiev sounded more annoyed. “I am allowing her to go. Since I’ve been teaching for longer and because you told me to hand out the tracking bracelets, my decision overrules yours. Your argument is pointless.”

Marinette stared as Ms. Bustier tried to find words to retaliate with and failed. She took the bracelet from Professor Mendeleiev and thanked her.

It felt nice to have someone stand up for her again.

In the corner of her eye, Marinette noticed Alya walk toward the teachers and her. She looked angry and upset, a face she nowadays wore often around Marinette.

She remembered what she thought last night, about Alya’s betrayal. How it hurt remembering the good times they shared. Marinette took a deep breath.

It still hurt. It still hurt remembering the good times they had as friends, but she had to be fair to herself. She had to remember the bad times too.

She had to remember the times Alya demanded every detail, said friends tell each other everything. She had to remember the times Alya pressured her into things she wasn’t comfortable doing. She had to remember the times Alya took her for granted, the time Alya decided she wasn’t worth as much as a liar.

She has to remember what Alya is doing to her now.

“Where is the liar going now?” Alya scoffed. “Getting permission to run away this time?”

Marinette rolled her eyes and slipped the bracelet on. She would be okay. Alya wasn’t her friend anymore, she had better ones to look out for her.

“I don’t owe you anything.”

Alya gaped.

Luckily for Marinette, Alya didn’t have time to think of a response. A car drove up, and Marinette saw Damian wave to her from the backseat. She smiled.

The door was unlocked, so she opened it and got in. She didn’t look back at her classmates faces as the driver, an aged man in a suit, drove away.

“Where would you like to eat, Angel?” Damian asked.

Marinette shrugged. “I’m not sure, I don’t know what’s here.”

Damian frowned. “Angel, you okay?”

That’s when her previous realization hit. He was Damian Wayne, son of Bruce Wayne. He was one of the celebrities Lila liked lying about the most. And he was her friend, currently best friend.

“I’m okay,” she mumbled. “I’ve got a lot on my mind right now.”

Damian looked like he wanted to press the issue, but decided against it. He told his butler to take them to a restaurant she didn’t recognize the name of while she took deep breaths. She felt Tikki press gently against her hip, trying to reassure her.

Alya was a bad friend. Marinette wanted to be a better friend to Damian. He already made her so happy! Warm fuzzies and smiled and giggles were rare in the last few years, but she experienced them all with Damian. He kept a secret from her, likely for his own reasons, and she found out what it was behind his back.

Damian deserved better than that.

“I know,” she blurted out. “I know you’re Damian Wayne. I just want you to know that doesn’t change anything. You’re still my friend, and I don’t care who your dad is and who you are.”

Damian gaped at her for a moment before shaking his head. “I’m sorry you had to find out on your own. I should have told you-”

Marinette interrupted, “you didn’t have to. You don’t owe me that.”

He looked confused. She chose to elaborate.

“As a stranger or even a friend, you don’t owe me any details about who you are. Ever,” Marinette told him. “You’re allowed to keep secrets and not tell me things you aren’t comfortable sharing. It isn’t fair of me to demand you tell me everything.”

She was going to be the friend she needed to Damian. It was the least he deserved.

Marinette pushed down any disappointment that came with the word friend, not knowing why it was there. Maybe it was left over from her classmates’ treatment of her.

Damian was staring at her. She wasn’t sure what his expression meant, but it looked… Awed?

“Thank you,” he said earnestly. “I… nobody’s ever said secrets are okay…”

Marinette shrugged. “I can’t help if I feel left out, but forcing you to tell me everything isn’t how friendship is supposed to work. If you don’t want to tell me, it’s okay.”

Damian’s smile was small, but it made Marinette feel warm. Was he the sun?

“Perhaps instead of a restaurant, I can take you both to the mansion for your lunch?” the driver said, his accent different from Marinette’s.

“You sure Alfred?” Damian asked.

She saw his nervousness. “You don’t have to if you aren’t comforta-”

“No, it’s not that,” he assured. “My brothers can be… rambunctious.”

Oh. Marinette smiled. “I can handle them if that’s the only reason you’re nervous.”

Damian thought for a moment before sighing. “Alfred, please talk us to the mansion.”

“My pleasure, Master Damian.”

[negasonicimagines]

Do You Want To

requests: “Can I request one where reader is DP's daughter and their personalities are very similar. He recently said she has to start going to Xavier's because of her ability to create portals, but doesn't want to attend. Ellie is asked to be her guide and help her get situated. After seeing ellie she does some classic Wilson flirting. ‘Dad, I want her to sit on my face.’” + “Okay okay so Ellie imagine where reader Ellie and a bunch of other Xavier's students are at a party (reader and Ellie are not dating here) and have to play never have I ever and reader says that she's never gotten a hickey and then later Ellie catches up with her and asks if she wants her to give her one? And it leads to like a HEAVY makeout”

notes: F/B: Favorite Band. Jubilee appears as she does in the movies, and the others appear as they do in X-Men Evolution. Also, this fic makes some assumptions about you! If they don’t fit, okay, but please suspend your disbelief.I also did some experimenting with style, I’ve read a lot of @starman-thorsus-canos-jock​‘s fics lately and I love the style so I tried to let it influence me!!

warnings: underage drinking, borderline smut but dubious consent considering you’re both the same level of drunk! Sober, clear consent is important, even if the characters in this story don’t have a negative experience.

Open house at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters is always an interesting experience for Ellie. An increasing number of fresh faces every year, finding out what idiots (and tolerable people) she’ll be sharing classes with, and, the most unsettling of all: if she’ll be having a roommate.

But one face - or, rather, mask - that she notices isn’t fresh. It’s annoyingly rotten.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Deadpool? Perving on teenage girls, seriously?” She asks, gesturing to you. “I expected at least better than that.”

“Well, I’m no Ivanka, so I guess I’ll be heading back to my old schoo-”

Ellie gawks while he grabs the collar of your F/B tee shirt, pulling you back to your seat. You’re so… So...

“So, you… You have a daughter..?” Who looks like… Like she does?

“I didn’t always look like a moldy avocado, you know!” He protests. Your lip curls into what’s best described as a sweet smirk. “She makes portals and hates her mom’s new husband. I’m sure you two will get on real well.”

“Yeah,” you agree, eyeing the girl. “Y/N.”

“Ellie,” Ellie introduces herself, feeling her face heat up a little bit with the way you’re looking at her, unashamed of your interest. “Well, I’ve got to go get my schedule…”

“Go with her,” Wade tells you, and you fix him with a skeptical glare. “Please,” he adds. “Such a stickler for manners.”

“I don’t let men order me around,” you correct, and Ellie’s knees are weak.

“I’m very proud,” Wade half-jokes. “Go on, I’ll be here when you get back. I promise not to flirt with any of your teachers.”

“Thank you,” you respond with a bitter chuckle. The cheap shot at your mother that he probably didn’t mean much by was a nice touch. You follow Ellie to a slowly-shrinking crowd, and wait with her. You observe her, and she fidgets under your gaze. No one’s really showed this kind of interest in her before, especially so unabashed.

“Are you… Are you going to say anything, or are you just gonna keep staring at me?” She finally works up the nerve to ask.

“I told you my name, and that I don’t let men order me around. What more do you really need to know?”

Ellie never understood how your dad’s flirting ever worked on women when seeing it in practice on Piotr and Logan, but you seem to pull off the shameless, blunt interest like how she already wouldn’t mind you pulling off-

“Miss Phimister, good to see you’re already acquainted with your roommate this year. Miss Wilson, it’s a pleasure to see you again. Here are your schedules,” Charles Xavier himself says, handing you both your schedules. “You wouldn’t mind helping your new friend get settled in, would you, Eleanor?”

Ellie agrees to help you, and the two of you walk away. It’s not the awful flirting, Ellie realizes, but the hotness of the person saying the words: you.

“Roommates, huh? Whoever made out schedules must be a fucking psychic. A literal fucking psychic,” you flirt as the two of you walk away, and she can barely handle keeping a neutral expression, much less the scowl she normally wears. “Trying to be aloof will only make me want you more… In case you can’t tell, I have daddy issues. And mommy issues. I’m the full package, and willing to wear whatever kind of package you want.”

“Is that so?” Ellie tests the waters, and you blink at her for a few moments.

“Uh… Yeah,” you decide to answer, and she snickers.

“Not as smooth as you’d like to think, huh?”

“I’m just surprised you spoke, Negasonic Teenage Perks of Being a Wallflower,” you retort.

“Nice one, did your dad come up with it?”

“You’ve got bite! That’s good, now if you wouldn’t mind biting my neck..?”

“I-”

“Hey! Hey! New girl!” Ellie recognizes the sound of the boy a year younger than her zooming towards you both before she recognizes his voice. Pietro. “Party tonight, bring a friend, don’t, whatever, it’s in the woods, you’ll know it when you see it!”

He zooms off just as quickly, and you raise a brow.

“Is it actually a party, or his he just skeevy?” you ask.

“It is.”

“Hm, it would be a good idea to make some friends I don’t find irresistible,” you say it like it’s absentmindedly thinking out loud, tapping your lip, but she catches your eyes cutting up to her, looking for a reaction. “But… If I don’t know anyone, how fun would that be?”

“I’ll go with you,” Ellie’s mouth decides for her, but, thankfully, it doesn’t come out too quickly. “I know where it is, they have a huge bonfire in the clearing near the watering hole to celebrate everyone returning to school.”

“I see… Well, it does sound fun. Will there be alcohol?”

“Yeah, it su-”

“Oh, then we’re definitely going,” you decide, and Ellie both dreads and looks forward to later tonight.

~

After a short trek in the woods, Ellie and you find yourselves at the party.

“Ellie! Good to see you!” Bobby calls out, recognizing her from GSA. “You and the new girl should come over and play Never Have I Ever with us!”

“That sounds great!” you answer for her, heading over. Ellie follows you, because you’re the only reason she’s here, and the two of you sit on a log with Kitty, Anna, and Jubilee, with Bobby standing. At least they’re people she doesn’t hate.

He goes over the rules, and the six of you get started.

“Never have I ever… Kissed a girl,” Bobby says. You, Kitty, and Anna each take a shot, each lowering a finger. “Now you, Jubilee.”

“Never have I ever… Cheated on a test.”

Ellie takes a shot, cringing at the taste and lowering a finger. Based on the not-circle circle that you all are in, Kitty goes next, then Anna, then you, then Ellie, and so on.

“Never have I ever… Received a hickey,” Kitty says. Bobby is the only one to take a shot, and Ellie looks to you with surprise.

“Never have I ever… Fallen in love at first sight,” Anna discloses. You take a shot, winking at Ellie, who is either flushed due to alcohol - it’d honestly be adorable if she was a lightweight, you think - or what you basically just declared to everyone.

“Never have I ever… Tried to cut my own hair,” you decide, and everyone but you takes a shot and lowers a finger. You knew Ellie probably had, but the others surprised you.

“Never have I ever…” Ellie finds herself drawing out the r, having realized this is a good tool to get to know you without dropping her aloof facade. “Played strip poker.”

You and Anna each take a shot. So far, the score is as follows: Bobby - 9,  Jubilee - 9, Kitty - 8, Anna - 7, You - 7, and Ellie - 8. You’re starting to feel the effects of the alcohol, though so far it’s really just a giggly lightness and slightly-lowered inhibitions, not that you had many of those in the first place. You can feel yourself on the way to becoming a little more drunk, though.

“Never have I ever,” Bobby begins the next round. “Been to a strip club.”

You take a shot, and your not-circle circle of maybe-friends gasps.

“Y/N’s dad’s wife works at one,” Ellie clarifies for you with a roll of the eyes.

“Why can’t you just let them think that I’m cool?” you whine, leaning on her just a little bit. She scoffs, pretending she doesn’t enjoy the attention from you.

“Never have I ever… Cursed in front of my academic adviser,” Jubilee says. Both Anna and Ellie take a shot.

“Never have I ever…” Kitty starts, and it’s clear she’s not sure what to say. She hums, looking over the group before her eyes land on you and Ellie. She delivers you an almost imperceptible wink. “Got in a fight with someone because I didn’t like them. Not self-defense or helping someone else or X-Men stuff, just straight-up not liking them.”

You and Ellie both drink to that.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you people are trying to get me drunk,” you giggle, definitely feeling the effects of the alcohol after five out of your ten allotted shots.

“I’m there with you,” Anna replies, snickering as well. “Never have I ever-“ she giggles. “Had sex.”

No one takes a shot, all looking at each other - well, Ellie’s just looking at you, kind of but not entirely surprised - before you decide on your declaration.

“Never have I ever…” You giggle some more, a long one that you can’t stifle no matter how much your lungs beg. You look to Ellie for inspiration. “Shaved my head!”

Ellie and Bobby take their shots.

“Never have I ever… Been the first to lose in Never Have I Ever,” Ellie decides.

You and Anna drink, which makes sense, looking at your scores.

The score is now: Bobby - 7, Jubilee - 9, Kitty - 7, Anna - 5, You - 4, and Ellie has 5.

“Since the game is already starting to be long, maybe we should just go until Y/N loses and decide the winner based on that,” Jubilee suggests.

“Who says I’ll lose?” You pout.

“You have the least amount of points, Y/N,” Ellie says. She can take her alcohol pretty well, surprisingly enough to her, while you’re an adorable - No, wait, fuck, I didn’t mean that - giggling mess.

“I do? Is that hot to you or should I start lying?” You ask, and it’s the same blunt interest as before. Ellie chuckles, realizing that perhaps the reason you’re a laughing fool is because you’re already totally unreserved, whereas she has walls up constantly that the alcohol has to break down first. She smiles at you.

“What do you think?” Ellie asks you, and it comes out more sultry than she thought she could ever sound. You squeak, blushing even harder than whatever’s in these plastic shot glasses is making you.

“Bobby! Your turn!” You blurt.

“Never have I ever… Had a crush on the person to the right of me.”

You and Anna take shots.

“That’s me,” you quietly tell her, thinking she got mixed up.

“I know,” Anna whispers back with a smirk, and jealousy pools in Ellie’s chest. It wasn’t hard to make her jealous, and it didn’t help that her emotions were heightened.

“Never have I ever…” Jubilee begins. “Had a crush on the person to the left of me.”

You eye Anna before making the decision to take a shot. Ellie takes her shot quickly, a little embarrassed at being caught. The jealousy inside her boils, now.

“Hey, what happened to having a crush on me?” Ellie asks - sounding more defensive than anything - before she can stop herself.

“Oh, trust me, Hothead, I call you Hothead because you’re hot and you're angry. I told you: daddy issues, mommy issues.”

“This is the first time you’ve called me Hothead.”

“Out loud,” you correct her in a tone that’s best described as ditzy, and she scoffs.

“Never have I ever,” Kitty loudly starts, drawing everyone’s attention. “Done a striptease. Doesn’t have to mean you got naked, just that you took off your clothes for someone else’s benefit.”

You take a shot.

“Jesus, Y/N, you need to write a book,” Bobby says.

“And start giving me advice!” Jubilee, still in first place, exclaims.

“Never have I ever… Kissed someone at the top of a Ferris wheel,” Anna declares. Kitty and Bobby each take a shot.

“Never have I ever…” You giggle, remembering many of these people have roommates. “Masturbated with someone else in the same room.”

All of them take a shot, and you cackle drunkenly.

“Never have I ever…” Ellie has a cunning smirk, knowing exactly how to end the game. “Had my dad be Deadpool.”

“Oh, come on,” you whine, taking your last shot. “Oof.”

“Let’s see everyone’s fingers!” Bobby cheers. He has 5, Jubilee has 8, Kitty has 5, Anna has 3, You have none, and Ellie has 3.

“Go Jubilee!” You cheer, and the rest of the players echo it, as well as a few of your random partying classmates, scattered throughout the clearing.

You try to stand up, but stumble, knees giving out almost instantly. Ellie steadies you, also not the most structurally sound but slightly less physically encumbered by her drunkenness.

“I think that’s enough for us,” she suggests. “Wanna go back to our room?”

“Oh, hell yeah, I thought you’d never ask,” you flirt, and she snorts. “Wait, wait, I can portal us back to the school, just gotta visualize it. Okay, there’s that one.” You wrap her in a tight hug before the two of you fall through the ground, landing on the paved walkway.

Ellie hurls into the hydrangea bushes, making you feel a bit nauseous, but you only gag.

“Water,” you slur. “We need water.”

Ellie nods, and the two of you stumble in, giggling a little bit and trying to be quiet but definitely not being as quiet as you think you are.

You two enter the kitchen, and - to your surprise - your father is in there, with a shiny man you realize is his beloved Colossus.

“Dad, what’re you doing here?” You stumble over your words but straighten your posture, trying to seem not drunk off your ass.

“Same thing you’re doing, flirting with Mr. Rasputin,” Ellie explains for him, opening the fridge and getting out two water bottles.

“I’m not flirting with Mr. Rasputin, weirdo, I’m flirting with you,” you correct her before you loudly whisper to Wade, holding a hand up to the side of your face like that’ll disguise your words: “I want her to sit on my face.”

“Did not need to know that,” Wade tells you at the same volume, blinking - and reevaluating the example he was setting for you, like Piotr had been asking him to do before you came in - before sighing.

“I got the water…” Ellie weakly informs you.

“Yeah!” You enthusiastically respond, and the two of you leave Wade and Piotr to whatever their conversation was. You two slowly make your way up the stairs, clutching each other and the railings.

The trek is eventually over, and the two of you sip on your water, you leaning against one of the four posts of the bunk bed.

“I’m so hot,” you complain, taking off your shirt - arching off the post in a way that surely wouldn’t be that suggestive to Ellie’s sober mind but Drunk Ellie is ready to jump your bones - without really thinking about it.

“Yeah,” Ellie agrees, and you notice her blush at the sight of you.

“So, you’ve never kissed a girl… Do you want to?” You ask her.

“Of course I want to,” she scoffs, before realizing what you’re asking: Not if she wants to in general, but if she wants to kiss you. “Definitely. And you’ve never gotten a hickey, right? Do you want to?”

“Of course I want to,” you echo, taking one more drink of water before fumbling with the cap and putting it on the ground. You press your lips to Ellie’s, and her hands mold themselves to your bare waist before sliding up your back as the two of you kiss, lips moving in sync.

“Wow,” she breathes after pulling away, placing a hot, open-mouthed kiss on the space between your neck and shoulder, just above your collarbone.

“Ellie…” you sigh, nibbling at your own tongue to prevent too much of a reaction and clutching at her shoulders. She continues to suck at your neck, sinking her teeth in and delighting in the way you tremble.

This continues, and you fidget quite a bit, finding that you want more after this and hoping she feels the same way.

Ellie eventually pulls away, admiring her handiwork and sliding a thumb over the dark red mark before looking to you for approval.Your bra strap slips down, and she fixes it, rather tenderly for someone with limited coordination.

She gets more than approval just by looking at your face, and kisses you once more, tangling her fingers in your hair haphazardly. Your grip slips from her shoulders to her shoulder blades and you dig into her back.

“Fuck,” Ellie says against your lips.

“Not yet,” you retort, pulling away. She feels her face heat up, and notices that both of you seem to be a bit more sober after the water and the… Other things. “But we could get pretty damn cozy on whichever bunk you want.”

Ellie nods.

“Top or bottom?” you ask her.

“Top, I would’ve thought it was obvious,” she scoffs, and you go to climb.

“Oh,” Ellie realizes, so used to you being overt that she thought she was answering a different question before. “Bottom bunk. I top.”

“Oh,” you repeat, mouth drying. You remove your foot from the ladder, removing your shoes afterward and sliding onto the bed. Ellie straddles you before capturing your lips with her own, steadily gaining a certain confidence in her abilities - and her instincts - that allows her to roughly pin your wrists down without thinking too hard on it. She continues to kiss you, enjoying the way you writhe beneath her, muffling already-quiet moans, but eventually she decides to move on to giving you another hickey.

Ellie mouths at your neck and your chin tips up to give her more access. She can’t help but grin, licking a stripe up your neck and going up higher, but on your left side this time, suckling and tonguing at the sensitive flesh just under your jaw.

“Gonna be hard to cover up,” you observe with bated breath, and Ellie adores the way your body feels against her.

“Good,” she snarls, surprising even herself, and you whimper. She can feel you rubbing your thighs together underneath her, and she nips at the new hickey. You cry out in surprise, in pleasurable pain and Ellie snickers - of course she does, you knew she’d tear you apart like this the moment you laid your hungry eyes on her - before removing her hands from your reddened wrists, straightening her posture so that she’s practically sitting on top of your mound, and placing a hand on each breast and admiring the fabric of your bra.

You can hear your heart pounding in your ears and Ellie arches a brow at you, waiting for an answer to the unspoken question

“Mhm,” you hum, and she smiles, squeezing experimentally at first and only watching the way you squirm beneath her. You fidget in a twisty way, desperate for more touch, and she lets out a moan - surprising even herself - and sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. “Don’t,” you request shyly, and she doesn’t stop herself from making noises as she massages your breasts at a more consistent pace while you rock yourself up into her, letting her grind down on your mound.

“That’s- Fuck, that’s nice,” Ellie tells you. “But we should stop.” You immediately still.

“Since you said so, definitely, but why?” you ask the girl, who’s still on top of you.

“Because I really want to, with you, but I wanna do things right. We’re both tired, we’re both still buzzed...” Ellie explains, sounding much more exhausted after she  lays next to you. “Wanna take you to a scary movie, because you’ll either love it or hold me. Kiss you quick on the cheek after, and then you’ll kiss me on the lips because outside of this room you’re more forward. Walk you home and sneak in past curfew using a portal, have a late dinner of junk food.”

“You sound like you’re in love with me,” you half-joke.

“I’m gonna be,” Ellie sleepily tells you, slinging an arm over you in one last act of bravery before the two of you fall asleep.

[makeste]

a hero under construction

A.k.a. “yep I really went and tried to defend Bakugou ‘hey there bad decisions, it’s me, ya boi’ Katsuki in BnHA chapter one, if you can believe it. No, I don’t know why I suddenly felt the pressing need to do this either.”

So as you may know from sources such as: This Entire Blog, I like metaing about Bakugou. All sorts of meta! I have talked about Bakugou and Deku. Bakugou and Mitsuki. Bakugou and Determination, and Bakugou and Redemption.

But one thing I have not ever really talked about is Bakugou And That One Time He Told Deku To... You Know. The Thing. Because lol. That was so bad. You guys. Everyone agrees. Fandom doesn’t debate about this. That was a shitty, shitty thing.

And look, I’m not going to debate it either! Not really. But what I will say is that Bakugou Katsuki has always been my favorite BnHA character. Literally from the moment he was introduced. And I don’t feel like I’ve ever really adequately been able to explain why. I don’t gloss over his actions -- or at least I don’t think I do -- but to me those actions also don’t define him. Anyway, out of nowhere I had the sudden impulse to talk about this, so I’m gonna try and take a stab at it. Here goes.

So here’s Bakugou on page one of chapter one:

oh no baby what is you doing.

And then later on, all grown up! Not really though. But you know, older.

Yes, he really was my favorite right from this moment. Quote:

“YOU ASSHOLE, TWO SENTENCES IN AND I’M ALREADY POSITIVE YOU’RE GOING TO BE MY FUCKING FAVORITE. YOU’RE SECRETLY SENSITIVE AREN’T YOU. WITH A TRAGIC PAST. OR SELF-ESTEEM ISSUES THAT YOU’RE OVERCOMPENSATING FOR. YOU SON OF A BITCH. YOU PIECE OF SHIT”

He absolutely was a piece of shit too, the little fucker.

But anyway, the point is, I knew right away. And it’s not like I just went “OH MY GOD WHAT AN ASSHOLE I LOVE HIM” or anything lol. The thing is, it wasn’t Bakugou himself that I immediately fell in love with on the spot. It was his inevitable redemption arc. That shit was written in the stars from day one. It was inescapable. You do not introduce the main character’s antagonistic childhood friend (you can put air quotes around “friend” if you like), who wants to go to the same school as him and seems to be living a charmed life up until this point with everything going for him, and who is, to be blunt, a Humongous Shithead, and not have a redemption arc planned for him. Some things are just fate, guys. So anyways, yeah, I saw that and I immediately went “oh my god, it’s going to be so good,” and I decided right there and then that the only expedient thing to do was to go ahead and make him my favorite right there, before the proverbial ink had so much as dried.

Like, to put this another way. You know Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban? Specifically the part where Harry explains how he was suddenly able to cast a perfect Patronus charm in order to save Sirius and his own past self? “I knew I could do it this time, because I’d already done it... Does that make sense?” Anyways, you see, what happened here is sorta like that. When I first saw Katsuki, he was not immediately my favorite. But I knew that he would be, because two decades of reading shounen manga has helped give me a sixth sense for honing in on this very specific type of character arc. Rivalries, character development, the works. And pretty much the second I laid eyes on this little shit, I fucking knew he was gonna have that kind of arc. And if he did, he would become my favorite. So I thought I’d save time and make him my favorite right there and then. So I did. And I’ve never regretted it. Basically, I don’t love him because of who he is; I love him for who I have faith that he will become (and in the more recent chapters is, in fact, becoming).

Anyways, now that we’ve established that, just understand that all of this was in the back of my mind the whole time as I went on to read the rest of the chapter, and indeed, the series. So! Katsuki then goes on to brag about how he’s going to be the first AND ONLY!! student from Aldera Jr. High to get into U.A., before he blows up the main character’s desk for absolutely no reason. Which, by the way, their teacher just kind of sat back and let happen. You know, I tend to give the U.A. faculty a lot of grief, but maybe I should ease up on them some. The standards for teaching in this society are really kind of abysmal.

Anyway, so we should probably just fast-forward to The Thing already.

Oh Deku, honey. Nah that ain’t gonna happen.

So then,

Like, just in case it wasn’t clear enough before. Katsuki is, in fact, being a big ol’ anus.

And just in case it still wasn’t clear enough!

Honestly, I know fandom has zeroed in on the scene that takes place one page after this, but truth be told, I feel like this was arguably even crueler than that. If only because he went right for the thing Deku values most. He knows how important those notebooks are to him. This wasn’t just the physical destruction of Deku’s property (which is bad enough); it was also a direct attack on Deku’s aspirations. He’s trying to stomp them out. He specifically stayed after class to torment him just for that purpose.

Anyways, he goes on to reiterate that he’ll be the first and only student from Aldera to go to U.A., and then he tells Deku “don’t you dare get into U.A., nerd.” Which is what this entire scene boils down to, really. Bakugou, despite giving Deku endless grief for being quirkless, and repeatedly telling him he doesn’t stand a chance and needs to face facts, in truth feels threatened enough by Deku applying to U.A. that he goes to all of this effort just to try and scare him off. He doesn’t tell him “you’ll never get in”; he doesn’t even say “don’t try to get in.” It’s specifically, “don’t you dare get in.” Even here, at his very worst, at his most arrogant and cruel and physically violent, we can see hints of the insecurity that’s secretly at the root of this entire thing.

Anyways. And then...

Hahaha okay sob so we have finally come to this.

Look. I’m not gonna turn around and start defending this. I absolutely will not. The actions are indefensible. What I will defend, however, is the fourteen-year-old boy who made them. Because he is just that -- a fourteen-year-old boy. In other words, a kid. A very stupid, mean kid, who was old enough to know better. Youth doesn’t excuse everything. But I’m not going to condemn a child for life because of the shitty things they did at age fourteen. Fourteen is a very stupid age. No offense to any teenagers reading this! There are plenty of teenagers who do manage to navigate adolescence without temporarily losing their fucking minds. But I think it’s fair to say that just about everyone makes at least one or two mistakes during that period. Most people wind up with at least a few regrets. Which is honestly a good thing. It’s natural. If you don’t screw up at least once or twice growing up, you don’t get the chance to learn from it.

Anyway, so yeah. That’s my defense. He’s a kid. Maybe to some people it’s a weak defense. And yeah, maybe I’m too forgiving! Again, though, I’m not saying it’s in any way okay. What I am saying is that I don’t believe in one-strike-and-you’re-out. Especially if it’s a child. Yes, some people never change, and they keep on being shitty people for the rest of their lives. But for the most part, people are trying their best. And for kids and teenagers especially, I’m just about always willing to give them the benefit of the doubt, and trust them to keep trying to do better. Kids aren’t completed works; they’re still only rough drafts. And this applies to Katsuki as well. He’s still an effort in progress. A hero under construction.

Anyway, though. Basically you either cancel Bakugou after this scene, or you don’t. If you don’t, then let’s go ahead and keep moving forward. So how does Deku react to all of this?

Honestly, I think this here is a scene that doesn’t always receive its share of consideration. There are two things that stand out to me here. First, that Deku’s reaction to his former friend telling him to jump off a roof is to get frustrated about what a stupid fucking thing that was to say, because Katsuki could get in trouble for it. Never mind that this asshat just burned your notebook and joked about you killing yourself! He’s angry because Katsuki didn’t fucking think for two seconds before saying something which could have potentially had such devastating consequences for him, let alone Izuku.

Just. Okay. So not that this makes it any better, mind! But it is worth pointing out nonetheless, because it’s a definite Thing in fandom for people to sometimes retcon Deku’s reaction to this and make this one incident into The Single Biggest Issue From Their Entire Fucked Up Childhood. Like, I’m talking about those fanfics where it somehow gets out that Hey Guys, One Time Bakugou Told Deku To Kill Himself, and Deku is all angry and tearful about it, and Bakugou is super guilty and Ashamed, and everyone is horrified and there is Fallout and Drama and so forth, and then usually some kind of reconciliation afterwards. Which is nice. I’m not saying it wouldn’t be nice to have that kind of catharsis. But what I am trying to say is that I think fandom perhaps places more weight on this one particular incident than the canon does. Or the characters, for that matter. Because while Izuku has every right to feel horrified, and Katsuki by all rights should probably be losing a bit of sleep in his guilt over this, the reality in canon seems to be that neither of them ever treated it as that big of a deal. Possibly because it never occurred to either character for even an instant that Izuku might actually go through with it. I honestly don’t think Katsuki would have said it if he’d thought otherwise. Not that that’s an excuse either, because there was no way for him to actually know. But just trying to get into his mindset here, I honestly don’t think it entered his mind that Deku would try it. And clearly Deku never entertained the thought either. So in that regard, Katsuki basically just got very, very lucky.

Moving on to the second of the two things I mentioned, what does hurt Deku more than the go kill yourself implications, I think, are the I literally do not give a shit about you implications that naturally accompany a statement like this. And that, more than anything, is the sentiment I think Katsuki was actually trying to get across. I don’t care about you at all. I have so little regard for you that it wouldn’t bother me if you died. Which of course is equally as terrible a sentiment as the other, if not more so. It’s an exceptionally cruel thing to imply. But it’s what he wanted to express, regardless. Because, again, he has an entire dissertation’s worth of insecurities when it comes to Deku, and as we learn later on, he’s gotten the idea somehow that Deku is purposely mocking him and trying to knock him down a peg. And so this is his retaliation; his way of trying to deal with what in truth is his own self-imposed baggage. Meanwhile Deku is just trying to mind his own business -- contrary to popular belief, I think he has gotten the message by this point that Katsuki doesn’t want him following him around -- but he still refuses to relinquish his own dream of getting into U.A. and becoming a hero, no matter how out of reach it may seem. And so he puts up with the abuse, because he can’t fight back, but he’s not willing to back down, either. Basically things are tense!! And shitty!

Anyway, so that’s pretty much my breakdown of The Thing. This meta isn’t done yet, though! Because obviously no “Bakugou in chapter one” meta would be complete without an analysis of what I'd argue is actually the much more important Thing that also happens in this chapter. Namely, this:

Hahaha. Welcome to being a character in shounen manga, kid. When that karma train loops back around, it loops hard.

So! Bakugou stomps around some alleyways with his fellow middle school lowlives grumping about how Deku pisses him off. It’s worth noting that he already understands he’s done something wrong, here. His buddies even call him out on it -- “you went too far today” -- and his only argument is that “it’s his fault for messing with me.” He knows he was a shithead. Rather than denying it, he’s already moved on to trying to justify it. Really he’s just got too much pride to admit he went too far. It wouldn’t surprise me if that’s actually one of the reasons he’s so angry in this scene, even. He knows he done fucked up, and that just pisses him off more. Anyway so then he suddenly gets eaten by a giant blob, which. Yeah, this is BnHA. That can sometimes happen.

Let’s go back for a moment and talk more about the “GO KILL YOURSELF” thing! In real life, how would you deal with that situation? Like, imagine that it’s your job to discipline this kid. And assuming also that you work at a school that actually has policies about bullying, rather than teachers who just sit around filing their nails while the kids blow up each other’s desks. But anyways, my guess is it’d probably be some combination of suspension, detention, and/or community service, etc. But here’s the thing -- punishment can only go so far in dealing with the underlying issue. The real goal is to change the behavior. So there should be some measures to address that as well. Mentoring, behavior contracts, counseling, whatever. You don’t want the thing to happen again. You want the pattern of behavior to change.

Anyway, because BnHA society has massive problems which no one seems interested in tackling, this of course doesn’t happen, and Bakugou appears to get away scot free as far as Official Consequences For His Actions. But, because this is shounen manga, and we can’t just let our characters carry on not developing, something does happen instead which fortunately gets the ball rolling toward Redemption in its own unorthodox way. Namely, Katsuki gets eaten by the aforementioned giant blob, and Deku saves him.

That’s right! That Deku! Who, and I cannot stress this enough, bears absolutely no responsibility for Katsuki’s predicament at all, despite what he might think. Deku, whom none of us are worthy of in the slightest. Deku, despite being powerless, despite having no quirk, is the only person to try and do anything at all to save Katsuki, who -- and I can’t stress this enough, either -- is fucking dying. Like, holy shit. How the hell did this whole thing go from zero to fuCKED UP!! in such a short period of time?? just. !!

Anyway, so remember the part earlier where I said like a dozen times in a row, "he’s just a kid”? Yeah, I feel like that bears repeating just one more time.

Yeaaaaah. Fuck me so hard. Like hell there was ever even a chance of me ever not adopting this toxic fucking shitnugget after this. Just go ahead and fade me now. I know what my weaknesses are, and they are: This. Just, all of this.

Because here’s the thing about Katsuki: he tries to be tough, but he’s not. Not really. Not yet. He’s strong! He’s determined! But he’s still young, and far more fragile then he’d ever want people to think. All of his shitty behavior stems from the fact that he’s much less sure of himself than he puts on. He’s someone who has always been the best, and wants desperately to be THE best, and it also just so happens that he has absolutely no idea what he would do if he wasn’t. If he ever failed. If he wasn’t strong. And he’s scared shitless of it, and every last one of his most despicable actions stems from that fear.

But because he’s so bullheaded, he stubbornly refuses to acknowledge any of this, and persists in applying the only solution to this problem that he can think of: just fucking get stronger, and also CRUSH!!! anyone who dares to get in your way. If you’re afraid of being weak, then just don’t be weak. Don’t you dare. And so he doesn’t. He persists in Being Strong even to his own detriment. Even when it destroys his closest friendship. Even when it reaches the point where he can’t take joy in anything less than total victory. Even when it warps him into someone others see only as a villain. As Uncle Iroh once said, Pride is not the opposite of shame, but its source.

So he tries to be tough. And he puts up an incredible fight, honestly. This thing is suffocating him. We know from Deku’s earlier POV just how painful and frightening of an experience it is. But he fights back regardless. He doesn’t give up. But he’s terrified. We can see it, in this scene, in case it wasn’t already apparent. He’s struggling, he can’t breathe, no one is helping him, everyone’s just watching. He’s not strong enough to beat this thing on his own. He’s a child, and he’s dying. Like, fuck, though.

And I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that this is probably the first time in his life that Katsuki has ever actually felt helpless. All his life, he’s been afraid of being weak, but he hasn’t ever actually been weak, though. But this, now, is something he’s actually powerless against. For the first time in his life, he’s up against something that not his quirk nor his intelligence nor his sheer stubbornness can get him out of. And the ironic thing is that he’s spent his entire life mocking Deku for being useless and weak. But here, for this one critical moment, the roles are reversed. Katsuki is now the one who is powerless.

And it’s Deku who comes to save him.

Fucking look at how Horikoshi devotes an entire panel to the notebook flopping down on the ground, though. The same notebook Katsuki burned earlier that day. Because Horikoshi likes to really get in there and make you feel that searing irony deep in your bones.

Why, indeed. And we already know the answer, of course. No need to delve any deeper into that one again. Deku has many reasons, but truth be told, he only ever needed one.

That’s it. That’s all the reason he’ll ever need. No further questions asked.

And then All Might springs into action and rescues them both, and the whole dramatic scene ends. With both of my kids intact, much to my relief.

So, to recap! (1) Katsuki burns Deku’s notebook and tells him to off himself, because he’s a fucked-up little turd with a raging case of gifted child syndrome who was not thinking about any of the potential consequences of his actions, and also was just being a straight up jerk. (2) Katsuki then receives a karmic bitchslap in the form of A Giant Sludge Man, Come to Devour Him. And finally (3) Katsuki is saved by none other than the kid he was being a straight up dick to!

So after all of that, I think there’s only one thing we can say, really, and that is: Katsuki did you learn your lesson!?

KATSUKI WHY.

Lol okay, but. In all seriousness, I think it’s pretty clear here that he does realize that Deku just saved his fucking life after he, Katsuki, behaved like a piece of flaming hot garbage to him for eleven years. He understands the implications of that. Otherwise he wouldn’t have chased him down afterwards just to scream at him, “YOU ABSOLUTELY DID NOT SAVE MY LIFE!!” before stomping off to go sulk some more. Like, clearly he gets it. It’s just that his pride won’t let him acknowledge it out loud.

And it would be easy to look at this and say, “smdh, clearly he hasn’t changed a bit even after all of that.” Except that in the very next chapter,

And it would also be easy to say, “well woopty doo, he’s not actively deriding and bullying Deku anymore, finally, after a dozen years, and all it took was for Deku to save his fucking life. HOLY SHIT HOW ALTRUISTIC OF HIM, WHAT A GENEROUS FUCKING GUY, WE’RE NOT WORTHY, etc. etc.. And okay, yeah. Point made. I get it.

But still. Change is change. He realizes that what he did was wrong, and so he changes the behavior. As trivial a gesture as it might seem in comparison to the LITERAL DECADE OF ABUSE -- it’s still a gesture. It’s the start of something. A sign that he is in fact capable of learning, and that he might not be beyond redemption. And much in the same way that I won’t cancel a fourteen-year-old kid for doing shitty cruel immature fourteen-year-old kid things, I’m also not going to deride someone’s baby steps. Just because he doesn’t transform overnight into Deku’s devoted loyal follower doesn’t mean he’s not changing. It’s a process, is all. But one very much worth supporting and encouraging. Because Bakugou Katsuki plays redemption arcs on hard mode; but in spite of that, as with everything else, he plays to win. And when you’re starting from so low, the only thing you can do is rise.

Deku once said that Bakugou as a child was neither “bad” nor “good”, but that after he got his quirk, “he started down the path towards ‘bad.’” And from there, it took him another eleven years to course-correct and painfully start back on the path towards “good” again. But, crucially, he did. And that, right there, was the hardest part. Once you’re back on course, the only thing you have to do is keep moving forward, and not quit. And if there’s anything Bakugou excels at, it’s that. This one thing, he is very, very good at.

He’s still learning. But this is why we trust in the power of redemption arcs. As the saying that I just made up goes, Once a shithead, not always a shithead. You have to believe in the potential. People don’t write stories about characters who only ever stay exactly where they started from on square one. They just don’t. And Bakugou will not. He has not.

And I for one can’t wait to see the good this kid can do.

[littlemonstersau-blog]

Meet The Parents

Written by @jkl-fff, illustrated by me

————————————————————————————————

Bill, meticulously arranging props in front of laptop: … Okay, that looks enough like organization getting unintentionally messy … [puts cotton balls in cheeks to make them rounder, straightens tie, puts on stolen glasses, picks up pen] And now, to wait for the skyelp to come through! [bends over “homework” as if dutifully studying … holds exact pose for over 5 minutes while quivering with excitement]

*laptop chimes as skyelp comes online*

Dipper, excitedly: Will? You there? I’m here with Mom and— [registers costume (especially new additions of sweater vest, tie, and glasses) and gasps]

Bill, beaming and voice-cracking: Dippy!

Dipper, breathlessly happy: … h-hey there …

Ms. Pines, squealing softly to her husband: My gosh, he’s so cute!

Mr. Pines, just as softly and trying not to laugh: He looks like a tiny, Irish accountant. Like he’s balancing the ledgers for the Leprechaun King.

Ms. Pines: I know! I just wanna pat his chubby, little cheeks and put a pencil behind his ear!

Dipper, blushing: M-Mom! Dad! Don’t embarrass me with B-Will! [clearing throat] Um, Will. This is m-my Mom and Dad.

Bill, dripping with wholesome enthusiasm: Pleased to meecha, Ms. and Mr. Pines! I’m William Corduroy, but you can call me Will. Or even (ugh) Willy, if you like.

Ms. Pines: Well, Willy, it is sooo nice to finally meet you!

Mr. Pines, sternly: What are your intentions with my son? [gets smacked by wife while son groans] What? C’mon, I had to ask it at least once. I’m a dad!

Bill: My intentions? [flashes through everything he’s imagined doing with Dipper since the twins had to go home … it’s pretty wild; blushes; starts to sweat] hhh … HOLD HANDS! MAYBE KISS FACE! CH-CHERISH! [gestures helplessly at Dipper] I mean, look at him! What else could anyone intend with him?!

Ms. Pines and Dipper: D’awww!

Mr. Pines, still sternly: You tell me. What else do you intend?

Dipper, burying face in hands: Oh, Moses, Dad …

Ms. Pines: Dear, stop, you’re making the poor boys nervous. And teenage boys already sweat enough as it is. Just look at Dipper.

Dipper: Mom!

Ms. Pines, insistently: We can have a talk about … safety and responsibility later. [Bill and Dipper exchange a horrified look] Right now, we’re here to get to know Dipper’s little boyfriend. So stop acting out clichés for 5 minutes, please. Now, Willy … um … How’s your day been? What’ve you been up to?

Bill, relaxing visibly as things go back on script: Oh, y’know. Same old, same old. School. Now I’m just here at the library, gettin’ my homework done for the weekend. [gestures at prop “homework” like a good student] Sorry I couldn’t do this at home where you could meet my dad, but we don’t have a computer. If you can believe that. It’s also why I’m still wearin’ these school clothes.

Dipper, confused: School clothes? Gravity Falls schools don’t require uniforms. They’re public.

Bill: Oh, well … Today was … special.

Dipper: Did you … dress up just to impress my parents?

Bill, a little defensively: Golly, I just wanted to make a good first impression! So your folks’ll, y’know … like me. And let us keep being together.

Ms. Pines, charmed: Oh, don’t worry, Willy. It worked; I think you look absolutely darling!

Bill: Gee, thanks! I can see where Dippy gets his sweet personality!

Ms. Pines: Oh, you!

Mr. Pines, rolling eyes: Okay, honey, dial back the falling for cheesy compliments. Anyway, Will, what do you like to study?

Bill: Oh, I really like math. Especially … trigonometry.

Dipper, snorting: Pff! Seriously? Oh, um, inside joke.

Bill: Perpendicular.

Dipper: Hahaha! C’mon, man, be serious!

Bill: Let’s see … I also like psychology. Dream analysis is fun, ‘cause then I getta tell people that, like, I’m the boy of their dreams … analysis! At least, I getta tell Dipper that.

Mr. Pines, snorting: Okay, I’ll give you points for that one, kid. Dad Joke level of corniness. 6.5/10.

Bill, grinning: Gee, thanks!

Mr. Pines: You getting good grades in math and psychology?

Bill, playing at modesty: Oh, golly, sir. I don’t wanna brag … But it is easier to work hard when it’s fun, y’know? Unlike the way they do history classes here.

Mr. Pines: Boring teachers?

Bill: Yeah. Plus, they’re complete schills for the conservative military-industrial complex. It’s bad propaganda done borin’ly.

Mr. Pines, perking up: What makes you say that?

Bill: Oh, the usual. The don’t even teach that Ben Franklin was secretly Gwen Franklin, that JFK was killed by mobsters from the future to keep him from becomin’ a robo-dictator, and that Ronald Reagan was a mind-controlled puppet put in power by a conspiracy of billionaires to keep colonizin’ other countries for their resources and essentially slave labor.

Mr. Pines: Ugh! Tell me about it! And it’s all because they want to keep the populace uninformed and easy to pacify.

Bill, defiantly: But it’s not gonna work on me! Or Dippy! We do our own historical research and stick it to the man!

Mr. Pines: Boo-yeah! Tear down corporate capitalism! [turns to wife] Okay, I like this kid.

Bill: I can see where Dipper gets his keen judgment of character. Along with his striking good looks.

Mr. Pines: Oh, go on!

*Dipper gives bill a secret thumbs-up*

Ms. Pines, smirking: Okay, now who has to dial back the falling for cheesy compliments? [turns back to Bill] So, math and psychology and rebellious history study … Given any thought to what you’d like to do with those when you grow up?

Bill, feigning thoughtfulness: I … think … I’d … like to make video games. Coding and design and such. But ones that make players think and be creative.

Ms. Pines, impressed: Really? Has Dipper told you that’s the kind of work I do?

Bill: What? No! Gosh, Dippy, why’d you never tell me! That’s just swell, ma’am! What kind?

Ms. Pines: Indie games, so there’s a lot of side-scrolling and retro RPG elements—very basic gaming elements— but sooo much more heart. And, like, artistic integrity. The kinda stuff that really touches people.

Bill, starry-eyed: That’s the kinda stuff I wanna make!

Ms. Pines: It’s not easy … but it’s worth it. So, how’d you and Dipper meet? When’d you start dat—

Mr. Pines: Wait, sorry, hold up. Is that a freakin’ skull? [points at shelf]

Bill, genuinely surprised: What? [turns, has to take off glasses to actually see] Well, gosh, it looks like it is.

Dipper, mouthing silently: Why in the 79 hells would you even put that there?!

Bill, honestly: I’m honestly not sure why the library’d have that. I didn’t even notice it.

Mr. Pines: Might wanna get your prescription checked, kiddo.

Bill: They’re reading glasses, so …

Dipper, mouthing silently: Where’d you even … ARE THOSE GRUNCLE FORD’S?!

———

[Meanwhile, back at the Shack, Ford, stumbling around all squint-eyed: Ah, Stan, there you are! Have you seen my glasses?

Sascrotch, standing mutely like a taxidermied figure: …

Ford: It’s the darndest thing. I’d swear I set them on the end table when I laid down to take a nap, but couldn’t find them when I woke up. Of course, I’m not having much luck finding my glasses without my glasses.

Sascrotch: …

Ford: What? Oh, am I still getting the silent treatment for saying you’re too old to have hair that long?

Sascrotch: …

Ford, indignantly turning away: Fine, who needs you anyway? I’d find them without your hel—

Ford, tripping: AAA!

Ford, lying flat on his face: … I’m alright!]

———-

Bill, continuing as if to the Dad, but actually to Dipper: It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. [goes and puts a book in front of the skull] There! Problem solved!

Mr. Pines: Yeah, that’s much bet … Is that The Necronomicon?!

Bill, genuinely surprised again: … Huh. Looks like it is. [picks it up, pages through it … shakes head] Nah, it’s just The Nockoffronomicon. You can tell ‘cause it doesn’t mention Shaggy or even Bob. And instead of Cthulhu, it’s dedicated to Cthhula. [puts different book in front of skull] The best dancer among the Elder Gods, am I right?

Mr. Pines: Heh … 7/10 for that one.

Bill: Gee, thanks! Anyway, um … D’you mind if I tell ‘em, Dippy? You’re sure it’s okay? [pretending to get bashful] So, um … Dippy used to have a crush on my big sis, Wendy. And ‘cause she works at the Shack, they’d be, like, hanging out together a lot. He even came over to the house a few times. And, um, naturally I had a crush on him from the get go, ‘cause just look at him! Who wouldn’t?

Dipper, blushing: Ah, jeez …

Ms. Pines: D’awww!

Mr. Pines, grudgingly: D’awww …

Bill, making himself grin and blush wholesomely: So I started coming along to hang out. Then, before I knew it, it was just us hanging out alone together. And we were exploring the woods one day when we found some wild mistletoe—golly, I told him, “That’s wild mistletoe. That’s what it looks like in the wild.” and then he said … No, he stepped under it first, then he said, “Guess we gotta kiss now.”—and so we kissed.

Mr. Pines, slapping his son on the back: You sly, little dog!

Bill: And I was like, “Gee, that was swell!” Can you believe it?! Real lame-o line to follow a first kiss, right? And he was like, “We could do it again, if you want.” And I said, “But, gosh, we’re not even dating! Everyone’ll think I’m a boy-floozy!”

Ms. Pines: HA! Oh, that’s precious!

Bill, giggling: Y-yes, ma’am! It was! And then Dippy, he said, “Well, be my boyfriend. We’ll start calling our hang-outs dates, and I’ll fight anyone who calls you a floozy.” It was soooo chivalrous!

Dipper, beet red and with his hands in his face: Stahp …

*a while later, after the parents have left*

Dipper, relieved: That … That went a lot better than expected. And they sure loved Willy Corduroy.

Bill, self-assuredly: Natch. I’m inescapably charming, no matter the alias. [pulls out cotton balls and tosses them in the trash] If you ever call me Willy, though, I will shank one of your stuffed animals. That was me takin’ one for the team. Which is us, by the way. The team is us.

Dipper: Heh! Yeah, I gathered that.

Bill: Still, I’m surprised they never asked about my eyes …

Dipper: Oh, I “warned” them in advance. Told them you had a medical condition, and that you were really sensitive about it.

Bill: Good thinking. You’re so smart. And handsome. And sexy.

Dipper, grinning: Stahp!

Bill, grinning back: Nope. Never. Because I love you.

Dipper: Hehehe! I love you, too … Willy!