#also i think his solo color would be pink so that's why the extras are pink/magenta

[booskwan]

totally normal about him💞

[authurials]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 ... 2/5

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 . aemond had never allowed himself to covet--not until now that is

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 . one / three / four / five

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 . 18+ situations ( MINORS DNI ! ), unintentional voyeurism, solo masturbation, accidental exhibitionism, strong language

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 . here is day four of my 12 days of house of the dragon celebration and part two of my aemond targaryen x f!reader miniseries! things are heating up between the two would-be-lovers already and we still have three parts to go. what do you think is going to happen next? i’ve decided to take the day off tomorrow from writing and posting so i can recharge a bit after a particularly exhausting week of work--i also have some last minute christmas shopping to do AND other errands so i’m feeling a tad overwhelmed; this does mean my helaena one-shot has been dropped from the lineup but i’ve decided to revamp the idea and write it at a later date when i feel more inspired to write for my girl. on sunday you’ll be getting part two to my harwin x reader miniseries, candy cane! so be sure to stay tuned and let me know your thoughts on what you’ve read so far; also, finished this right around midnight but i’m still counting it for the 16th lmao

𝐏𝐀𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 . white rose

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐒 tucked into the waist pocket of your apron, a delightfully pinkish red camelia that you had found on one of the garden benches during your usual rounds. One might just assume that it had happened upon the stone bench in an act of nature, but you knew better–you knew it had been put there specifically for you. The camelia was only one of many you had been happening across for nearly a fortnight, starting with the lily of the valley in your chamber. Since then you had received some azaleas, baby’s breath, begonias, and your favorite, bleeding hearts; there were others as well, each placed carefully in a beautiful arrangement on your bedside table. Some were beginning to wilt from lack of sunshine while the newer ones still had a few days left in them, their sweet smelling scents mingling perfectly together like their own brand of perfume. At first, you had assumed it was one of the younger gardeners under your father leaving you the flowers or perhaps one of the hedge knights that frequented the grounds trying to secure patronage in the capital. None of them had quite caught your eye as a potential secret admirer however, at most they merely threw polite smiles your way before they moved along and out of your life forever.

As you passed a handsome bronze-haired boy, you instinctively glanced over your shoulder to assess his form, catching his eye as he did the same. Again, there was that polite smile as he nodded his head in acknowledgement, simply turning to face forward once more as he continued on his way. Sighing, you did the same, not having felt anything when you took note of the color of his eyes or the dimple in his cheek. He was quite good-looking, you would admit, but there was no resounding connection that stayed with you as you carried on about your rounds in the garden. No, you would be able to tell if you happened upon your secret admirer whether that be by chance or on purpose; you knew he would reveal himself eventually, why wouldn’t he? But you couldn’t deny that you were a bit impatient to know who it was.

Thoughts consumed with flowers and speculation, you took no note of the fact that you had an extra shadow on that day; not far behind you, separated from your person by a thick row of blooming pale pink carnations, walked a certain one-eyed prince. Making sure to stay enough behind you so that you wouldn’t take easy note of his presence, Aemond followed you with his hands folded behind his back; singular eye locked on you, a slight smirk curved his lips as he took in your dreamy expression. You softened in his absence, no longer cold and guarded as you walked the familiar tended paths of the royal garden; and each day since the lily of the valley, he had come to watch you if only for a short time before tending to his other duties–if only to assure himself that you’d received his latest gift. And sure enough he saw the newest bloom he had picked earlier in the dew-lit morning peeking out of the pocket of your apron skirt, its petal bobbing gently with each step you took. The camelia had called to him that day, a symbol of his growing affections for the sharp-tongued and quick-witted girl who had beguiled him with her boldness–with her audacity.

He wanted to break you, to have you desire him as he desired you–a fire so intense that it was maddening, an obsession that if left unchecked threatened to consume him completely. As a boy it had been but a childish sort of like, a pointless crush that he had forgotten about until the moment he saw you again. Never had he dared to hope, to dream, to covet such a thing that was supposed to be below him–not until now; now all he did was covet and desire as he followed you deeper into the gardens, your path clearly taking you to the greenhouse and workshop your father kept. When you were children you would take him there after much convincing on your part and show off all the new seedlings your father was trying to grow so he could incorporate them into the gardens; most were incredibly rare specimens, shipped all the way from Pentos and Essos and perhaps even further. You’d prattled off all that your father had told you about them, eidetic memory storing such information as if it were a precious tome that needed safe-keeping, all the while gripping tightly to Aemond’s hand with your small sweaty one. It had disgusted him at times, but for some reason he rarely found it in himself to pull away, especially when you would look over your shoulder at him with that crooked smile.

Stopping where the row of carnations ended, Aemond watched you continue on without him, not a care in the world as you hummed a melancholy tune; just as you were about to disappear from his view, he took note of the way you plucked the camelia from your pocket, head turning just enough to the side so he saw how you lifted it to your nose to sniff it. Smirk widening, he backed away slowly and turned to leave, assured that his plan was taking proper effect. All he needed to do now was reveal himself to you as your ‘secret admirer’--he knew you had been searching, eyes thoughtful as of late as you would take in your surroundings, waiting for your faceless would-be-lover to reveal himself. You were ready to know, that he was certain of, he just needed to set the scene appropriately before revealing himself to you–

But first, he had other less interesting obligations to attend to courtesy of his ever helpless family.

Leaving the gardens, he headed to the Tower of the Hand where his mother and grandfather were supposed to be awaiting his arrival. He knew he was late and usually that was unfounded for him–always the responsible one, the dutiful son, the wasted potential of a second born prince; however for once he could not find it in himself to care, as duty had become tasteless in his mouth, his mother’s praise and love no longer enough to satiate himself upon. He wanted–no, needed–more and he was determined to see himself filled no matter the cost.

He was let into his mother’s solar by Ser Criston Cole, who ever dutifully bowed his head to his star pupil; unlike the other times when he would’ve respectfully nodded back to his mentor, Aemond averted his eyes and simply gave a tense bow of his head as he moved past the Dornish man. He did not miss the way the older man frowned in confusion, dark gaze following him into his grandfather’s solar before closing the door once more. The Targaryen prince, although firm in his intentions, could not help but feel a bit guilty knowing that his newfound selfishness would disappoint the man who had been more of father to him then his own ever had. He had looked up to kingsguard his whole life, admiring the honorable way in which the man protected and respected his mother unlike the other men in her life who had neglected to do so; if Aemond had not known any better he would’ve said Criston was in love with the queen, but he did know better and knew with a certainty that the relationship between the knight and his mother ran no deeper than a shared fondness and treasured friendship. It made the young man feel guilty because in a way he was betraying the rapport he had created thus far with his teacher, years of trust diminished in the short period of time it had taken Aemond to cast away the virtue of duty for the sin of lust.

“Mother,” he greeted respectfully, bowing once more to the pious woman who sat stiffly as always in the area by the lit fireplace; nearer to the hearth stood his grandfather, who greeted his grandson with a nod and his name. “Grandfather. You both wanted to see me?”

He already had his suspicions before Otto even opened his mouth, having known for months what the man and the other small council members were plotting behind his and his father’s own backs. Viserys was too weak to really be coherent of much of anything at this point, kept numb and docile by copious amounts of milk of the poppy; he hadn’t been of use for quite some time, Aemond’s grandfather and mother taking up in his stead to rule things as they saw fit–hiding behind the guise of doing the king’s bidding. It was quite hard to do his bidding when the decaying corpse of man couldn’t even string together a full sentence, instead speaking in a broken language one often had to decode–Aemma and Rhaenyra among some of his favorite words. Aemond resisted the urge to curl his lip in disgust as he listened to what Otto had to say, though he was already calculating his rebuttal in his head.

“Your mother and I have been discussing it with the small council,” the older man hummed, “and we believe it is high time you were engaged to marry. We’ve already begun discussions with Lord Borros Baratheon in regards to one of his four lovely daughters–”

“And what if I do not wish to marry?” Was Aemond’s reply, hands folding behind his back as he glanced between his grandfather and mother, who had already begun to pick nervously at her hands as she formulated her response carefully.

“Aemond,” she begun, “we understand these things are not always desirable but–”

“But it is your duty to the family to secure a good match,” Otto interjected, “and garner more support for your brother’s claim.”

Of course, Aemond thought bitterly to himself, it is always about that drunk’s claim. But what of my own?

He studied the histories and philosophies of their predecessors, he practiced the art of the sword, he had sacrificed time and time again for his family; but still, his efforts would forever be only those of a second born son, a curse in and of itself–a constant mark against his person no matter how hard he tried to escape his destiny. Had it ever crossed any of their mind’s that he might make a better fit for king than his older brother? Who other than the fact of being born first was even more ill-suited for the crown than their whoring cunt of a half-sister or her brood of bastards. Aemond was sure that it had, but due to damnable tradition he would forever be passed over for Aegon, just as he had when Helaena and his brother were betrothed; he had had no desire to marry his sister, but he would’ve done it if only to ensure she was not doomed to a loveless and cruel marriage to that drunkard.

“Your grandfather is right,” Alicent nodded, standing up from her spot on the settee. “We will need Lord Borros’ support and to ensure it we have to create a strong alliance. The man’s father might have sworn to Rhaenyra, but that was years ago and it is my understanding that the man is less concerned with hollow oaths and more concerned with seeing his daughters to profitable martial matches. What better one than that of a prince?”

“I do not wish to marry one of the storms, mother,” Aemond frowned. “Besides, it is my understanding that they take after their father in both looks and intellect; I’d rather not have my future children be burdened with dull minds and plain faces.”

“Aemond!” The queen admonished.

“I merely–” Aemond began to defend himself.

“Enough,” Otto snapped, mouth set in a firm line. “You stand there and insult Lord Borros and his daughters, one of which will be your betrothed. It is foolish of you to believe that you have any say in the matter; you will do as your mother and I have bid you for your father–the king–has already given his blessing to the offer. We simply wished to let you know as a courtesy before sending word to the Stormlands.”

A pause and then a laugh–

Aemond tossed back his hair, chuckle passing through the column of his throat and vibrating there as he smiled amusedly at his grandfather. The other man’s frown deepened and he took a step forward as if to further reprimand his grandson, perhaps he even intended to put his hands on Aemond. Alicent, ever the level-headed one, placed her hand on her father’s arm as her lips pressed into a thin line, worry etched forever in the plains of her forehead.

“Aemond–” She began softly.

“You are the foolish one, grandfather,” he cut her off, laughter dying out as he continued, “if you believe that you can tell a dragon what to do; you have power because we allow you to not based on your own merit, though I will commend you for your cleverness and confidence.”

“How dare you–” Otto snapped.

“No,” Aemond shot back, taking a dangerous step forward as his hands fell to his side, clenched into readied fists. “How dare you think you could go behind my back and decide my fate for me! How dare you lecture me about duty and sacrifice as if I have no idea what it means to bleed for this family?! I have already given so much–my mind, my sword, my eye–and still it is not enough for you?”

He laughed again, this time more cruelly as he backed away and paced across the room, eyes once more finding Criston’s who remained by the door. The latter had a disapproving frown on his lips–of course he did; the man was just as chained to the concept of duty as Aemond had found himself to be not that long ago. To him and the others–Aemond’s mother and grandfather–he was foolish to believe that one’s wishes should trump that of obligation and perhaps at one point the prince himself believed that to be so as well. But not anymore–not when he was so close to tasting the forbidden fruit he had denied himself for so long–

Not when he almost had you, his flower.

“Let us speak civilly about this, Aemond,” his mother urged, walking over to his side and reaching for his hand. “I know that it does not always feel like your efforts have been recognized, but know that they have and that I am grateful for your dedication to this family. Aemond–”

She paused when he pulled his hand away, turning his body to the side so that he did not have to look at her directly, the set of his jaw tense as he turned his head to the side to let her know he was at least still listening.

“You have always been so….agreeable,” she continued, trying to find the right words, “when it came to what has been expected of you in the past. What has changed, my dear boy?”

He could not tell her, not yet when things were still in motion and he did not have you fully yet; there was still the chance, however slim he hoped it to be, that you would reject him and he would not be made a fool to you and his family if that were to happen. Even absent his desire for you the repulsion he felt at the prospect of marrying one of the Baratheon daughters did not waver; he had never met them nor did he have any wish to do so, not wanting to give any of them the false hope that they might be able to bewitch a dragon. It was too late for him anyways, after all he had fallen under your spell long ago.

“Perhaps,” he found himself saying, finally glancing between his pale faced grandfather and his mother who now worried her bottom lip between both rows of her teeth, “I simply do not wish to be an animal caged in a loveless and dull marriage as I have seen my loved one subjected to.”

It was a dig at the sham of the unions of first his mother and father and now his brother and sister; both pairs forced into proximity to one another in an act of his grandfather to secure Hightower blood on the throne. Aemond knew his mother held no love for his father, not as a wife should a husband anyways, and perhaps Aegon and Helaena could’ve cared for each other as siblings if they had not been used as pawns by those who should’ve protected them. And now the pieces were moving across the board once more, and it was Aemond’s turn to be sent forward as fodder for his grandfather’s ambitions.

“Perhaps,” he adds, the hint of a smile curving his lips, “I have found something that I desire more than your fleeting approval for once, mother.”

He had always known her love was conditional, that to be the golden son in her eyes one must forgo their own happiness; but even that was no longer enough for the queen it seemed as she grew desperate to secure her eldest son’s claim to a throne he had no business sitting upon. No matter what Aemond did he would never have her favor, he would never be enough, because he was a second son and that’s all he ever would be.

It was time that he accepted that.

Without another word, he turned to leave, striding towards the door even as Alicent called after him tearfully, shaking hand coming up to cover her quivering mouth. His grandfather’s voice joined her, demanding that he stop and even commanding Criston make him, but for once the knight defied orders and instead simply bowed his head to the prince as he strode past; there seemed to be something in his eyes akin to understanding, as if he too understood what it was to be held in limbo between desire and duty.

And perhaps he had; as Aemond opened the door to his mother’s solar and walked through, he recalled something Criston had said to him many years ago–about how he had once coveted something that he could not have and how filled with too much pride he had rejected the only way in which to possess it–

A choice he did not regret until many years too late.

Aemond refused to have such regrets hanging over his head.

•°•❀•°•

𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 tucked under a white rose in your bedroom again, wanting to ensure that it would not be disturbed by just any passerby nosy enough to pick it up. It read as follows: meet me in the east private gardens when the moon is highest in the sky. Simple enough. And it gave him enough time to rid himself of the residual anger that still pulse through his blood, thrumming most prominently at the vein in his neck. With no other obligations–at least ones he wasn’t willing to snub–he found himself spending the rest of the day avoiding the gardens in exchange for the quiet of the library. He did not want to risk running into you before you saw his note and came to the garden to meet your faceless secret admirer that night; fearful he was that you might see the truth upon his face somehow and the big reveal would be ruined.

It was terribly romantic, or at least he thought so as he settled into a secluded section with a book he had already read two or three times before. His mind was not of the disposition that day to retain any new information, hyperfocused on the task at hand; he obsessed over every possible outcome as his eyes skimmed over the words, not really taking them in as he tried to prepare himself for any possible scenario. What would he do if you truly did reject him? He didn’t believe himself to be a broken hearted type, but it would surely gut him in some way if you held not even the slightest inclination towards him. Or on the other, what would he do if you did end up holding a desire similar to his own? He was not well versed when it came to concerns of the flesh, though he found himself more often than not as of late imagining what coupling with you would be like if he were to be presented with the chance.

His singular sexual experience was one he would rather forget–a forced-upon-him trip to the Street of Silk courtesy of Aegon and his wiles. It had been to make him a man–at least that’s how his brother had rationalized it afterwards, when a three and ten Aemond had stumbled out of the brothel the next day, fleeing as Aegon tried to keep him. Time to get it wet, that is what he had said as he clapped the younger boy on the back the night before, guiding him towards the establishment’s offerings; words that haunted the prince to this day and to which he tried his best to push away in that moment, instead replacing them with happier thoughts of you.

Sighing, he closed his book and laid it against his chest, leaning his head back as he closed his eyes; he thought of the small, coy smile you had given him that day in the garden when he had confronted you after all those years. It alone aroused something inside of him in its memory, fire only fueled as he continued to recall more details of you on that day. The dress you wore had been plain, the uniform red of a royal servant, a white robe dirtied by the work in the gardens thrown over it; your hair had been bound, pulled away from your face aside from a few rebellious strands that he didn’t know whether he wanted to fist and pull at or tuck behind your ear in a gesture of tenderness. The glint in your eye; the curve of your lips, the silhouette of your figure–

Shifting uncomfortably, Aemond began to feel the familiar tightening in his leathers, cursing internally as he sighed and ran a hand over his face. Never before had he been the type to so spontaneously harden at the mere thought of a pretty girl; it was not unfounded completely, no, but nor had it been as frequent as it had of late. He of course blamed you and his lack of self-control, the reluctance to delay gratification a constant struggle he battled with.

Setting the book aside, he hesitated a moment as he sat up, hands flexing upon his thighs as he glanced at the space between his legs before assessing his surroundings; there had been no one in the library when he had first entered and he was sure no one had made their way in ever since. Although he was tucked away from the entrance, he was positive he would be able to hear if someone were to come in and even though it was a risky move he found himself oddly thrilled at the element of danger. It would do him no good, after all, to walk to his chambers in such a state he rationalized to himself as his right hand rubbed up his thigh and to the growing bulge at the front of his leathers.

Groaning, he gave in and leaned back as his hand closed over the outline of his cock, gripping it firmly and rubbing in slow methodical circles. His legs shifted, opening wider as he adjusted his position to a more comfortable, ass hanging off the edge of the seat he was in as he kicked his feet out. Heel of his boots digging into the firm ground so he could gain purchase and have better control of his hips, which squirmed under his hand’s ministrations as he let his mind wander.

He imagined you there with him, sitting to his side, your hand replacing his as it stroked over his clothed member; fingers teasing the laces at the front, he licked his lips as he saw you in his head leaning in to press kisses to the arch of his neck, leaving teasing bites as you began to undo the front of his trousers. His own mirrored your movements, except for the way he impatiently yanked at the laces while you moved slowly, not a care in the world as you focused all your attention on him. It made him feel revered, worshiped as your pressed kisses down the column of his throat, hand sliding inside to grip at his cock finally; a soft gasp left his lips as you gave it a few good tugs, matching his rhythm before pulling it out and exposing the turgid flesh to the cool air of the room. It should’ve been a relief, it was a relief, but only a temporary reprieve as Aemond continued stroking himself at a good pace; he pressed his feet into the floor, hips rocking in tandem with his touch as he thrusted into his fist. Only for a moment did he pull away, depravedly spitting into his own hand before returning it to his now fully hard and weeping erection; his strokes quickened as he panted breathlessly, head lilting back uselessly as he lost himself to the debauchery of it all.

Soon enough his leathers were wrapped around his ankles, restricting his movement as the scene shifted in his mind, imagining you taking him into your mouth. He grunted, trying to conjure up how the delicious cavern of mouth upon him would feel–hot, wet, blissfully suffocating–but it was futile; he would simply have to make do with the slick slide of his hand along his length as a poor imitation until he could bring you to bed–if he could bring you to bed. Growling at the thought of your rejection, he quickened his strokes, fucking the tight vice of his fist as he pushed such worries away; in his fantasy at least you were compliant and wanting, mouth hungry as you suckled at the root of his cock, hand fondling the heavy weight of his balls as they tightened. He gripped them harshly, the tightness bordering on painful as they drew up against his body, the end close.

“Fuck,” he cursed, squeezing his erection as he tried to delay the inevitable; your name slipped over his tongue and past his lips, saying it like a prayer as he teetered on the edge. He said it like a plea, begging his cock not to spill so soon as he wanted to drown there in his desire for just a little bit longer.

His body did not heed his words, however, as soon it was stiffening, hips arching off the chair and staying there as the first stream of his release shot pitifully out of the tip of his cock, landing on the lapels of his trousers and the lower half of his vest. Gasp locked deep in his throat, all he could do was simply tilt his head back, singular eye closed tightly as he watched himself hold you down as he spilled inside of your mouth. In an ideal world, you would accept his seed like an offering, swallowing it all down gratefully as you continued to suckle at his softening cock like it was a rare delicacy and you had yet to have your fill–nothing went to waste. Sighing, he continued to jerk himself to the prospect, tongue coming out to swipe across his lower lip as he felt his cum begin to drip onto his hand; only when the last of his release had finished did he loosen his hold on his penis, letting fall uselessly against his dirtied trousers as he slowly came down from the high. 

It had been thrilling, he had to admit to, doing such a private act in the communal area of the library, the threat of being caught some kind of fucked up aphrodisiac. He almost wanted to get caught, to be happened upon in such a compromising state, to be watched while he–

He turned his head in the midst of his wicked thoughts, eye catching the familiar hue of yours as everything came to a halt; for a moment he thought–hoped–that you were still simply a figment of his imagination, but when he saw the shock written plainly on your face and the way your lips parted as you realized you were caught he knew that this was not a part of his fantasy. You were really standing there in the library before him, bearing witness to his secret shame, and he wondered when you had stumbled upon him–how long had you watched him defile himself?

Before either of you could utter a word, Aemond watched you bolt, gripping the skirts of your dress as you hurried from the room. Cursing, he quickly pushed his cock back inside his trousers, struggling with the laces as he attempted to right himself and stumble to catch. Your name left his lips again as he begged you to stay, commanding you to stop when his pleas went unanswered, the door slamming shut behind you as you slipped out of the library. Ignoring how filthy he was, pearly white cum already beginning to harden and stain his clothes, he followed you out into the hallway only to realize that you had already disappeared. Unsure of which way you had gone, he stood there for a moment and considered his chances of catching up with you; frowning as he realized it was futile, he turned on his heel and went back inside, the door once more slamming shut behind him.

He could only hope that you showed at the garden that night so that he might explain himself; although how he could he did not know quite yet. It proved unnecessary however for as midday finally turned to night and Aemond found himself waiting in a patch of white roses in the private area of the gardens, minutes turned to hours and still you made no appearance. And yet he waited as time passed him by, eventually laying back in the flowers as he allowed their sickly sweet scent to envelop him, the starry sky hanging overhead as he drifted slowly to sleep.

[page150]

Not A Friend - (Sister to Oscar "Spooky" and César Díaz)

Request: "i was wondering if u could do a fic where oscar and cesar have a teen sister and she’s sexually assaulted and tells oscar??"

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 3181

Warnings: Sexual Assault, Guns, Cursing

A/N: I usually don't do a author's note before the imagine, but this is a sensitive topic so if this might be triggering please click away.

Y/N - Your Name f/c - favorite color

Y/N sat quietly in her room, reading a book, illuminated by a white lamp sitting on her dresser.

Outside her brother, Oscar laughed with some men and her other brother, César had left a while ago on another adventure with his friends, leaving Y/N by herself in her room. Placing the book down, she moved the curtains away from her window. She looked at the gathering of Santos socializing in the backyard. Red solo cups in hand, dancing and eating. She remembered how Oscar had let her help decorate the backyard for the party only to be later excluded from it. Looking at him laughing with a with his arm around someone she betted that he had forgotten that she was inside.

She had gotten used to being forgotten and treated differently by people. Ever since she was born her brothers didn’t know what to do with her. Oscar had never expected to have to raise a brother by himself and especially not a sister. Even though she was only a year younger than César, Oscar's idea of keeping her safe was keeping her hidden.

She was only allowed to go straight to school then straight home, never alone either. If César or Monse weren’t going to a place neither was Y/N and that’s how it always was. She was especially not allowed to hang out with any of Oscar's friends, making life extremely lonely.

Glancing at a photo that was taped next to the window, she smiled at herself situated between Jasmine and Monse with Jamal, Ruby and César in the back. César’s friends were nice, but they were his friends not hers. He was the one invited to all their parties. He was the one they had tried to save, not her.

This left school to be the only place Y/N could socialize, but no one wanted to be friends with a girl from a gang. She was labeled dangerous before anything else, leaving her by herself. Always forgotten, and always alone.

That night she went to sleep feeling sorry for herself and woke up the same way. It continued the next few days until one day when while sitting in her algebra class, a new student was introduced. He was placed next to her and, ignoring the strange looks the class gave to him, he introduced himself.

“I’m Luke. Can I sit here?”

Y/N looked up at the blond haired boy. Her table partner had moved schools a few months ago and no one bothered to sit with her since. He looked nice, he had a nice smile and it made her want to lower her guard slightly, “Yeah, you can sit here.”

Luke sat next to her and immediately tried to start a conversation. He talked about how he moved from Florida. She noticed, as they talked more, how similar they were. They both had interesting families. He had two brothers, she had two brothers and they both lived near each other.

Y/N found herself laughing more than usual at his jokes. This led to the teacher having to stop class multiple times to scold them. Y/N never had a connection to someone like this, especially not on the first day. At lunch Luke went to sit with with her and -

“Who’s this?” César asked, suddenly sitting down at the lunch table next to his sister and wrapping an arm around her. Jamal, Ruby, and Monse also sat down. The table that previously consisted of two people quickly turned to six. Other kids nearby, eyed the two “dangerous” siblings sitting together.

Y/N rolled her eyes at the unexpected attention that was now forming. “This is Luke, he’s new.”

“Lukeee,” César trailed, “I’m Y/N’s older brother-”

“By a few months,” Y/N butted in.

“Whatever, I’m César, these are my friends Jamal, Ruby and my girl Monse.”

Monse laughed, “I’m not your girl.”

“Not yet,” César winked.

Y/N sighed and threw César’s arm off her. She turned to Elliot and apologized.

“Sorry for them.”

“No they’re cool,” Luke grinned. “Any friend of mine is my friend as well.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows, “We’re friends now? It’s only been a day.”

“Of course, you’re cool.”

With the compliment Y/N cheeks turned red. As childish as it was, having an established friendship with someone made her feel nice.

“This must be how César and Oscar feel all the time.” She thought.

“I don’t know if Oscar will like you having a friend that is a boy.” Ruby remarked. “No offense, Luke.”

“None taken.”

“Oscar doesn’t like anyone anyways.” Monse muttered, taking a bite into her sandwich.

“Don’t worry” Luke smiled, “I’m one of the good guys.”

“That’s what they all say,” Jamal said suspiciously. He leaned in close to Luke’s face and gave him some crazy faces.

“Okay, great talk guys,” Y/N said sarcastically, “I would love to chat with you more but lunch is about to end and I have to show Luke where his next class is. I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah I have to go, but it was nice meeting you guys.” Luke stated, before he was dragged away by Y/N.

The next few weeks Y/N spent all her time with Luke. He sat next to her in the classes they shared, they talked at lunch and while walking home after school. They even stayed up at night so they could talk on the phone. She found herself smiling every time he talked to her. Every time he offered to carry her books. He was just so nice.

One Friday afternoon, Luke came running up to Y/N, putting her items in her backpack after her last class. He put his hands around her eyes, trying to hold back his laughter.

“Guess who?”

“Mrs. Kurt, I told you we can't see each other here.” Y/N whispered.

Luke removed his hands and his face went white. Y/N turned around and started crying with laughter. She had to sit down, her face turning bright red as she continued to laugh, gasping for air.

“I don’t even want to think about you dating my mom.” He trembled, before returning to his cheerful self. “Stop laughing, I have important news. There’s a party tonight and I was wondering if you wanted to come with me.”

Y/N stopped laughing and thought about it before responding. “I don’t know. I don’t think Oscar would want me to. You know how he is about stuff like that.”

Luke smiled and picked her backpack off the floor. He then put out his hand and helped Y/N to her feet.

“Which is why César and his friends already said they are coming too. Oscar doesn’t have to know you're going as my date.”

“Your date?”

“If you want to be. I want you to be my date.”

Y/N smiled, a pink blush covering her cheeks. “I can be your date.”

“Great,” He took her hand and began to lead her out of the classroom. “It’s going to be amazing, don't worry.”

That night Y/N drank water out of a red solo cup, while sitting on the couch of a kid she had never met before. This time she was the one laughing and partying. Colors flashed around the room as more and more kids came into the house. The air was foggy with smoke and smelt like a mash of perfumes and colognes. Y/N nodded her head to the music enjoying the energy in the room.

To her surprise Luke pulled her up to dance with him. She giggled feeling his hands go around her waist. She put her arms around his neck just like she saw in the movies. Rap was blasting out of speakers placed on the ground. Somewhere someone joked about getting a noise compliment to which the crowd began shouting the rap lyrics louder. Taunting the idea, almost hoping for it so the party could gain extra excitement. Y/N shouted along with them in bliss. Ignoring the past fear she had felt once she noticed César had left. Ignoring the looks she had gotten when she first walked in the party. Ignoring how Luke had moved his hands past the dip in her back...

When she felt his hands squeeze her butt she whispered for him to stop which he did, but she still felt weird. A sinking feeling sat in her gut that this was a mistake. Suddenly the small action made the party feel like too much now. She could smell the stink of alcohol on Luke’s breath and weirdly on herself as well. How did she get drunk?

Y/N moved from Luke to where she had placed her cup. Now she could see scribbled on with a black sharpie, someone else’s name. She must have grabbed the wrong cup sometime during the party. Swaying slightly, she moved back toward Luke.

“I need to go home,” She hiccuped. “I drank someone's drink.”

In the darkness she didn’t see Luke’s small smile. “Wow, I’m sorry. Let’s get you home.”

The two exited the party and began to walk home. Y/N felt more tipsy as she walked, eventually having to lean on the blond boy. She didn’t feel really drunk, she could still tell what was happening, it was just her body felt a little out of balance. Luke seemed the same way, but before they reached Y/N house he grabbed her hips. The sudden movement left her in shock.

“You looked really nice tonight, babe.” He said, pulling her into a kiss as he ran his hands on her back, slowly moving lower onto her butt, then up to her breasts.

Immediately Y/N pushed Luke off of her, moving to wrap her arms around herself. “What the hell? I’m a Santo, pull that shit again and it's over” She yelled, backing away from Luke.

“Like you would, I’m the only one who cares enough to pay attention to you. Do you really think anyone else wants to be around you? I’ll do whatever I want. You would be an idiot to lose me.” He fumed.

Y/N froze. Luke had never acted like that before. He couldn’t truly mean what he was saying. She ran into her house and locked the door behind her. She waited a few minutes to check that he had left, which he did.

After her shower she convinced herself that Luke must have been really drunk. That’s why he acted that way, but on Monday he proved that that was not the case.

At the beginning of algebra it started off okay. Luke kept his eyes on the board and focused on his work. It was okay up to the point where he started rubbing on Y/N's leg. She told him to stop but he ignored her. First rubbing small circles on her knee. Then moving up to her thigh moving closer and closer upwards. No matter how many times she moved his hand he kept putting it back. Eventually she had to stay quiet out of fear of distracting the class, but he kept going. She begged silently for it to stop. Suddenly feeling powerless as he continued to do as he pleased for more days.

At lunch even though Luke continued to joke with César she started to go silent. It was a constant internal battle. If she pushed Luke away more, it would cause her to lose her only friend. If she didn’t she would continue to feel uncomfortable. She told herself it would stop eventually, that things would go back to normal, but they didn’t.

As more days went by Luke tried to do more things. The more he tried to do the quieter Y/N got. But luckily César began to notice. He noticed that Y/N wanted him to sit between her and Luke more. How she stopped laughing at his jokes and how Luke changed his tone when talking to her. It wasn’t always playful like it used to be.

Even though César wasn’t really close to his sister he acknowledged that they had to look out for each other. Y/N had been the one to get Oscar to let him back in the house many times. She looked out for him, and he had to look out for her.

Which is why when César and Monse accidentally walked in on Luke kissing her in an empty classroom while she tried to push him off, he freaked out.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He shouted, pulling Luke off of her and close to his face by the collar of his shirt. “I'm Lil’ Spooky I’ll have your face in the dirt if you do that shit again.”

“César, stop what are you doing here. You’re going to hurt him.” Y/N yelled. Monse gently pulled her away from Luke, but she pushed Monse back.

César punched Luke in the eye and he fell down, crumbling into a fetal position. César continued to kick him in the stomach until Y/N pulled him away.

“You’re hurting him! You can’t do this here! César stop please!”

César turned and grabbed Y/N's arm. He led her out of the classroom and out of the school with Monse trailing after them. Y/N’s items in hand.

“I can’t believe he was on you like that. Shit, Y/N. Wait, don't cry, don’t cry, it's okay.”

Y/N hadn’t realized she was crying until he said that. Tears were falling rapidly down her cheeks. She choked back sobs, trying to keep herself somewhat together.

She was thankful for César stopping it, but afraid for what would happen next. Once they reached their house César guided her up the stairs and inside where Oscar was smoking a cigarette at the dinner table. Hearing the door burst open and crying he instantly got up. He reached for his gun, but seeing that it was his siblings he stopped.

“Shit, what the hell happened César. Why is she crying?”

“Tell him,” César said softly. Monse ran in and went to Y/N’s side pulling her into a hug.

“Tell me what. Why are you crying?”

“He 's not mad at you hermana. Él va a ayudar.”

Y/N sniffled and buried herself into Monse’s shoulder. Trying to hide her embarrassment she whispered, “My friend at school was touching me in a weird way, Oscar. He wouldn’t stop. I told him to stop, though. I did. Please, don’t be mad at me.”

“We’re not mad at you and he’s not a friend anymore, Y/N. That should’ve never happened to you.” Monse murmured.

The room went silent. Monse still slowly rubbed Y/N’s back and César stood tense. Oscar looked from César to Y/N.

“César, do you think he left school yet?”

“Uh yeah, school ended right after I pulled her out.”

“Come on,” Oscar grabbed his gun and began to walk out the door, César following after. Y/N ran after Oscar begging for him to stop.

“Don’t Oscar, don’t hurt hm. He’s my only friend. He’s a kid, it was just a mistake.”

“No no!” He shouted. Oscar turned and placed his hands on Y/N’s shoulder’s. Looking into her teary eyes.

“It’s not your fault. It’s never your fault hermana. My job is to keep you safe. I've failed at a lot of things, but I refuse to fail at that again. Get in the house and rest. He just needs to be taught a lesson. Stay with Monse. Te amo como una hija bebé espeluznante.”

He left with César, leaving Y/N on the lawn. Monse guided her back into the house. She remembered what her dad did whenever she was going through a lot. She treated Y/N the same way. Reassuring her that it will be okay. That it wasn’t her fault.

César and Oscar didn’t come back until later that night.

“We got you this,” Oscar muttered, walking into the house and tossing a stuffed bear to Y/N. “We saw the idea online.” It was a f/c bear with a heart on it that said ‘Te Quiero’ with little messages César and Oscar wrote on the back. There weren't a lot, but the few ones there were were heartfelt.

“Thank you, I love it” Y/N smiled, holding the bear close. Her eyes were still slightly red from crying.

“And pizza,” César quietly cheered. On his face was a bandage, but he moved his face so Y/N couldn’t see it. “Monse do you want to spend the night?”

Monse looked at Y/N, “Yeah I already have clothes here so I’ll stay,”

She picked up a slice of pizza. “Soo, what did you guys do?”

“We took care of it,” Oscar said, sitting on the couch next to Y/N. “He won’t mess with you again. If I didn’t have a reputation I would’ve reported it.” He lowered his voice. “You can always go to us Y/N, we’re going to protect you. If that cabrón messes with you again I’m coming for him. ”

“I know,” Y/N mumbled. “I just wanted a friend, how dumb is that.”

“You can always hang out with us,” Monse added, “We’re your friends. We love having you around.”

Y/N sighed, “I mean my own friend. I love you guys too, but it gets so lonely. No one at school wants to be near me. Soy un marginado.”

The room went silent again. Before Monse spoke up, “You know you’re really smart Y/N. There’s a school in BrentWood that might offer you a scholarship to go there. I know you could pass the entrance exam. ”

“I could get a job for the tuition,” César added, rising from his seat at the dinner table. “Oscar what do you think? You’ve been making more money lately. It would keep her safe. She is really smart.”

Oscar looked at the ceiling, a good sign that he was thinking about the idea. Y/N kept her mouth shut, trying not to get too excited.

“How would she get there?”

“It’s a long bus ride,” Monse remarked, “But it’s safe. Only a bunch of rich kids. Most of them will be nice to you, Y/N. You’re smart, you’re funny, and you’re strong. Not a lot of them are like that there. No one will know who you're related to. I can get my mom to help get you in.”

César, Monse, and Y/N looked at Oscar. He took a deep breath and released it. Pulling a cigarette out his pocket, he lit it. Breathing deep he puffed out the smoke.

“I failed you today as a hermano, if I can keep you safe I will. I’ll work on getting you there.”

Y/N smiled and hugged Oscar, feeling César join as well.

“Thank you Oscar. Thank you Cesar. Thank you Monse. I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah” Oscar grinned. “Get off me I’m going to bed. I think I’ll go to the beach tomorrow. Want to come?”

“Yes!”

Author's Note: My DMs are always open to anyone who needs it. I am also on twitter to anyone who wants to talk @/thepage150. Requests are open. You are important. You are valued. You are loved. Have a wonderful day ~c'k

[spaceace5834]

my c!mcyt head cannons cause yeah

Shout out to the people who actually read this, thank you I’m new to this whole tumblr fandom thing so if my head cannons upset you I apologize.  I will be going against lore or what streams have confirmed as lore because I am too sexy for rules.  These aren’t in any kind of order also.

I will also be changing some parts of Minecraft itself for parts of the head cannons because I am god at the moment.

TWs: swearing, death was said like once or twice, worried about mum and dads relationship given that it’s a bird and his fridge wife who’s secretly the goddess of death, and Karlnapity ✨angst✨

- Eret is a flamingo hybrid.  That’s all I have to say for this one.

- Technoblade is a Piglin Brute, he fancy, he strong, he’s like 8″ in cannon, and he scares the shit out of me.  He is the brute.  However, he doesn’t like to admit it for a strange reason, he finds the system in which Piglin’s elect their brutes similar to a government system and idk he just doesn’t like being a brute.

- Wilbur and Tommy are Philza’s only kids.  I’m sorry but I can’t get behind the Wilbur and Techno twin thing, a death bird and a the goddess of death disguised as a fridge having two human children I can let slide.  A Piglin Brute however? Nah, it’s supposed to be a weird ass family but there is only so much I can take.  Instead Techno is more like the son Philza never had despite having two sons, Techno seeing Phil as a fatherly figure but not his actual father and vice versa.

- Tommy once got so pissed off at Revivbur that he just like, took his old guitar and threatened to beat him with it.

- ✨Angst✨ I see many people depicting Quackity wearing a necklace with Karl and Sapnap’s rings on it and I am down for a jewelry wearing Quackity don’t get me wrong, but I need to make angst.  Quackity had the necklace and wore it for a very very long time, but when he realized that Karl and Sapnap weren’t coming back he stopped wearing.  It’s tucked away in a box under his bed for when he’s finally ready to let go.

- Philza is a mega simp for Mumza which is why he built the forest.  Mumza had asked her husband to make her someplace she could stay so that the two of them could finally be together again, she wanted to be apart of her family’s lives even if being the goddess of death made it difficult.  So Philza being Philza he made her the forest, after she settled in she was sure to enchant it just to have the extra feel of “home”.

- Callahan kinda fine.

- This was a debate a while ago if Foolish wore a Greek toga thing or if he had “little totem shorts” (if you don’t read that in a snooty voice leave).  Because of the whole Demi-god thing I’d say he wears a toga, however, that doesn’t mean he can’t be comfortable.  When he’s in his more “human friendly form” (small foolish) he wears the little totem shorts and one of those Hawaiian dad shirts. (Fun fact, I own one of those.)

- Karl knows that these are his friends in the Tales of the SMP, he just forgets before can make some kind of reminder.

- Dream picks/bites his nails, I say while I pick at my own nails.  For real tho I just think it’s something he’d do.

- Sam is still a creeper, but instead of having the weird centaur thing he just has and extra pair of arms.  The arms save him from some of the hard work that comes with redstone.

- Punz is too busy counting his bounty money to care what is going on in the SMP, and yes I know he’s part of the eggpire however….solo Punz hits different, it’s the girl boss for me.

- Glatt, enemy to Schlatt, tried to do that thing where you bury a bunch of coins with you so you can get a better afterlife but it didn’t work.  Now he’s just stuck with all these golden coins in his pockets constantly clinking against one another.

- Niki knows how to sew and has made fun patches for Tommy when L’manberg was still a thing.

- Eret’s aesthetic is that one rich wine aunt with a pink color palette that visits you every 2nd Christmas just to shower you with gifts and make your parents insecure.  Also would only show up to Thanksgivings if something important happen (ex: someone dying or a new edition to spoil).

[slipping-through-my-fingertips]

Klaine it up! 2, 7, 12, 21, 50

Okay...I got this. PROMPTS FOUND HERE

2 - you accidentally sprayed them with yogurt when you open the lid the wrong way. 

This was not Kurt Hummel’s first time opening yogurt but it might’ve well have been. He was sitting at a picnic table in Central Park on his lunch break from Vogue.com having just picked up a BLT, sweeten iced tea, and strawberry yogurt from his newfound favorite sandwich shop. It just happened to be two blocks down from the Vogue offices too. 

After eating half a sandwich, he found himself watching three young girls practicing their hula-hooping skills. Of course, while entranced by the colorful swirls of plastic, Kurt grabbed his low-fat yogurt and pulled at the lid, and the minute he did another man was being dragged by his golden retriever over to Kurt’s table. 

Before he could stop it, a splash of light pink yogurt was splattered across the front of a bright blue polo. 

“Shit, I am so sorry,” they both said. 

Kurt had a lap full of puppy and the man covered in yogurt. 

“She’s really friendly and has a fondness for bacon,” the man said, gesturing to the sandwich. “And who can blame her.” 

With that comment, Kurt pushed his meal away slightly. Out of reach of the dog’s mouth. 

“I usually am way more careful with my food,” Kurt said. 

The handsome man only laughed, “it’s no big deal, do you happen to have a napkin?” 

“Oh yes!” Kurt reached into his bag to grab one. 

“Thanks,” he said, “come here, Lacey.” 

The puppy sat right at his side and waited. Kurt stood up to wipe the yogurt away while the man kept Lacey still. 

“I can...” he started to say but Kurt was already pulling away having cleaned it up the best he could. 

“Lacey and I also share a fondness for cute boys but I don’t suppose...” he trailed off, blushing. 

Kurt still wasn’t used to being flirted with but this wasn’t small town, Ohio. 

“And who can blame you,” Kurt replied, already grabbing a pen and paper from his bag to write on. 

THE REST OF THE PROMPTS CAN BE FOUND BELOW THE CUT

7 - you both do the side-to-side dance when you try to pass them in the grocery store aisle

Kurt told his dad to pick up an extra heavy whipping cream three days ago when Burt asked if Kurt needed any other ingredients for Thanksgiving dessert. He told him. 

“I only need 3 things: dark chocolate, heavy whipping cream, and almond extract.” 

Burt had gotten everything but Kurt needed whipping cream for both the chocolate mousse itself and the whipped topping he planned to make. Now he was at the crowded grocery store one day prior to Thanksgiving. Exactly where he didn’t want to be. 

 Of course, every grocery store made you walk all the way to the back of the store for dairy products. I’ll just grab milk and eggs real quick, you think, then suddenly you have a cart full of snacks you didn’t need. 

Kurt found the red and white carton fairly quick. He backed up and started to make his way to the self-checkout. Before he could think about the temptation of potato chips, he was stopped by another body. 

They both stopped and shifted their feet to make way for the other. From right to left and back again for several seconds before both falling into pits of laughter. Kurt looked into deep hazel eyes that twinkled at him. He wondered how long he could do this dance just to stare at them some more. 

“That’s my fault, I came around the corner too quick,” he said. 

Not quick enough, Kurt thought, we could’ve fallen to the floor. You on top of me would be quite nice. 

“No, it’s all me,” Kurt replied, “I should’ve been watching where I was going.” 

He fumbles into his pocket for a business card. Isabel’s one-month anniversary gift. 

“If you’re in town longer than tomorrow, I’d love to buy you some coffee as an apology,” Kurt said, handing the card over. 

“Oh.” Kurt watched him scan the card, flipping it over in his hands. “I’d love to, Kurt.” 

A shiver ran down his spine. Maybe he should thank his dad for forgetting the cream. 

12 - you kick a ball and your shoe flies off, hitting them in the back of your head

Blaine used to hate having an older brother. Growing up, he felt constantly in competition with Cooper’s larger-than-life personality. Now that Cooper had settled down in LA with Lisa, his wife, and had two wonderful kids, having an older sibling didn’t seem too bad.

It was summer break, Blaine was free to leave the confines of his NYU dorm room. He was trying to get lost in the sunshine of California to forget he was about to start his final year of college. Time with his niece and nephew was sure to put any nervousness out of his head. 

They were playing soccer in the park when it happened. It was bound to. Everyone in LA was hot. It was like the law. 

Cute boys and Blaine’s non-existence coordination weren’t a good mix. 

Blaine went to kick the ball and caught sight of a bicep. An unusually pale bicep. A rare sight in sunny Los Angles. Arms, Blaine fantasized, he’d love to see wrapped around him or possibly pushing his legs apart. 

He was sure he tighten his laces. This is why Blaine Anderson didn’t wear sneakers. Missed the ball by an inch but the force of his kick sent something flying through the air directly towards the cute guy: a sneaker. 

It happened so fast, Blaine heard the yell of surprise before realizing his sock was exposed. Once he realized what happened, he rushed over to the man. 

“Fuck, I am so sorry,” Blaine said. “Can I do anything?” 

“Well, an aspirin would be great,” the man teased. 

Blaine sat in the grass and chuckled. Still extremely embarrassed. 

“Not exactly the fairytale I always dreamed of.” 

“Fairytale?” Blaine asked, scrunching up his nose in confusion. 

“Cinderella,” he said, like it was obvious, “a lost shoe as it were.” 

“I’m not Cinderella,” Blaine told him, “sorry to say. I’m more of a Blaine.” 

“Kurt.” 

“It’s nice to meet you.” 

“I do believe this is yours,” Kurt said, handing over the shoe. 

21 - Almost spilling a drink because you met their eyes and got distracted thinking how cute they are. 

His dad always said pour your drinks yourself. Blaine became that friend who grabbed drinks for everyone for this reason exactly. He wasn’t sure what the occasion was exactly but his study buddy from his songwriting workshop invited him. It was at some loft in Bushwick but Blaine didn’t mind the adventure. 

Until tonight he had no reason to venture to this part of the city. 

“Blaine!” Elliott exclaimed, pushing a solo cup into his hand, “Drink up, karaoke at eleven!” 

Then he disappeared into the crowd. Blaine headed straight for the kitchen and poured the toxic mixture down the sink. He found a new cup and started reading the labels of the bottles spread out across the counter. Mixers and any alcohol of your choice seemed to be available. 

Rum and coke sounded good. He went into the fridge for a cold soda first. Blaine was happy the kitchen was empty he wasn’t quite ready to start making friends. As far as he knew, Elliott was the only friendly face here tonight. 

He poured the rum in for some semblance of tracking his alcohol intake. The last time he got drunk, he dialed the professor he TA-ed for, who thankfully overlooked that incident. Blaine cracked open the coke and while he poured surveying the living room. 

People were dancing to an upbeat pop song that Blaine strangely didn’t recognize and others were mingling in doorways or sat on scattered sofas and chairs chatting. He caught a pair of blue eyes in the crowd. 

The man they were attached to was stunning. If he hadn’t blinked, Blaine could’ve mistaken him for a marble statue carved by the gods. They didn’t lose eye contact as he walked towards the kitchen. It wasn’t until the man stood on the other side of the counter that Blaine noticed his hand was covered in soda. 

“Papers towels are behind you,” the man offers. 

Blaine set the now empty can down and spun around for paper towels to clean up his mess. 

Just great, he thought, make a fool out of yourself. That’ll score you some points. 

He cleans up his hand before wiping down the puddle of bubbling coke on the counter. 

“I don’t think we’ve met,” he continues, “and this is my party so I like to know all my guests.” 

“Your party?” Blaine stutters. 

“It’s my birthday.” 

“I’m Blaine,” he introduces. “Elliott invited me. We have a class together.” 

“Oh, you’re Blaine. From songwriting workshop.” 

“That’s me.” 

Elliott’s obviously talked about him before to this man. This gorgeous, completely out of Blaine’s league man. 

“God, he’s relentless,” he says. “I’m going to kill him.” 

“Um, might I ask why? I can leave if there’s an issue.” Blaine knows when he isn’t welcome. 

“No, no,” he replies, “don’t go. It’s just he’s been trying to set us up for months now.” 

It all clicks.

“Oh god, you’re Kurt.” 

“That’s me, the birthday boy. and you are Elliott’s idea of the best gift ever.”

Blaine blushes. “I don’t know if I can I've up to that but if I can have the next dance I can try.” 

Kurt nods. “I’d like that, Blaine. A lot.�� 

50 - getting paired up on an amusement park ride that requires even-numbered riders

All of Kurt’s friends hated rollercoasters. Rachel didn’t like heights, Elliott refused to do anything with loops, and Santana, well, she was too caught up in her new girlfriend to be bothered. 

“I only wanna hear screaming tonight,” she told him. 

So, Kurt waited in line himself. Some fun day at Coney Island this was turning out to be. He was so glad he was spending the day with friends. Kurt rolled his eyes. 

The woman directing the ride gave Kurt his row number and moved down the line. Behind him someone tapped on his shoulder, Kurt turned around and found himself looking at a curly-haired man around his age. 

“Guess we’re both odd men out then, I’m the single rider in my group today.” 

“Oh, um, no, my friends were too chicken to even ride,” Kurt said. 

“I’m really surprised Wes and David are good to go. They both hate being upside-down.” 

Kurt smiled.

“I'm Blaine, by the way.”

“Kurt.” 

The ride emptied out and Kurt crawled over to the far seat. They buckled themselves in and listened to the instructions to keep all body parts inside at all times. Then, the bar came down and the ride launched. 

After the ride ended, Blaine and Kurt were chatting all the way down. Wes and David trailing behind them.

“That second loop really threw me,” Blaine was saying. 

“I saw,” Kurt exclaimed, “I thought you were going to fall out of your seat.” 

“Downfalls of being short and compact.”

When three more people joined their day at the park, no one questioned it. 

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Business As Usual

Criminal Minds Rockstar AU! 

Word Count: ~3890

Warnings: Implications of offscreen shenanigans, Reid and JJ being devious little shits, but nothing too wild. 

A/N: Why does this exist? Fuck if I know! Was it a fucking blast to write? Fuck yes it was! The headcanon popped into my brain fully-formed while I was driving home from work one day, @stunudo​ and @rockhoochie​ encouraged me, and here I am. This will, at some point, be tied into the SPN rockstar au that I’ve been dicking around with, but for now it’s just the BAU doing their thing! 

Business As Usual

Talking Family and Feminism With Rock’s Hottest New Band

-

There are already fans lining up outside Terminal 5 when I arrive in the afternoon. It’s the first time Business As Usual will be playing in New York since the release of their sophomore album, Wheels Up, which has become the runaway surprise hit of the summer, largely thanks to the success of the first single, “Revelations.” They’ve gone from critically praised indie darlings to the brink of mainstream stardom, seemingly overnight. 

Band manager David Rossi, for one, isn’t surprised at the sudden attention. 

Rossi is an industry vet with almost four decades of experience under his belt. He’d been retired for a couple years when a friend dragged him out to see B.A.U. playing in a dive bar. He says that within two songs, he knew “the kids,” as he calls them, would be huge. By the end of the show, he was ready to come out of retirement if they’d let him manage them. 

With attention comes scrutiny, and for most bands, the rumors would be flying already. However, B.A.U. definitely isn’t most bands; there are no whispers of groupies, crazy parties, or other rockstar antics here. When you meet them face to face, that reputation makes perfect sense. They’re quiet and quirky, and they seem like five of the unlikeliest rock stars in modern music. 

-

“Very nice to meet you, Paul,” Rossi says, turning on the charm. This one’s gonna be a piece of cake. “Now. Before we get any further, just a couple things.” 

He gives the reporter his best fuck with my kids and I will fuck you up look and makes sure the guy looks suitably intimidated before he continues. 

“First, don’t believe half of what comes out of Penelope’s mouth, at least not until you confirm with somebody else. She likes to see what ridiculous things journalists will print.” This is, obviously, a lie, but they’ve found it’s the best way to deal with Penelope’s inability to keep anything private. “Trust me. You listen to her, you’ll end up with egg on your face.” 

“No problem,” Paul says obediently. 

“Second, you do not mention Reid’s stalker. Is that clear?” 

Paul nods, but Rossi waits for a moment, until he starts wilting slightly under the stare.

“I understand,” he says, nodding emphatically, and Rossi gives him a clap on the shoulder and a big smile. 

“Wonderful. Other than that, we’re an open book. Come in, they’re just getting ready for soundcheck. Let’s get you something to drink.” 

-

Officially, the band is made up of Emily Prentiss (vocals), Derek Morgan (guitar), Jennifer “JJ” Jareau (bass), Spencer Reid (keys), and Aaron Hotchner (drums). At first glance, they don’t look like they have anything in common; most bands tend to dress in a similar style and come from similar musical backgrounds, but these five couldn’t be more different. Reid, for example, was a classical piano prodigy who graduated from Berklee at the age of seventeen, and has a tendency to dress like an absentminded professor, while Prentiss, with her Siouxsie Sioux eyeliner, dropped out of prep school to tour with a riot-girl band. 

Producer and sound tech Penelope Garcia is the unofficial sixth member of the band, and they all credit her with melding their various eclectic songwriting styles into one distinctive, experimental sound. 

Garcia is an anomaly in a male-dominated field, possibly even more so than Prentiss and Jareau, but instead of trying to blend in or prove that she’s tough enough to fit in with the rest of the crew, she makes a point to stand out. During sound check, she’s wearing a wildly colorful dress and pink heels, which match the pink streaks in her hair and her thick pink-framed glasses. When I ask whether she deals with sexism in the music industry, she just laughs. 

 “Of course there are jerks,” she says, shrugging. “There are always going to be jerks. But I know I’m good at what I do, and my band knows I’m good at what I do, and that’s what matters.” 

“And the other women? Do they get heckled or catcalled a lot?” 

“The only person who’s allowed to objectify my band is me,” Garcia says cheerfully, and then makes a face. “Kidding! I would never.”  

-

“Nicely done on that solo, hot stuff, you play that guitar almost as well as you fill out those jeans,” Penelope says into the dead mic. It goes directly to the band’s in-ear monitors, so nobody else can hear. Derek laughs and the rest of the band roll their eyes.

When they set up the extra mics and the band-to-booth-only channel, this was not what they had in mind (as Rossi keeps reminding her) but… it’s so much fun. She hasn’t made Derek crack up mid-show yet, but she’ll get there. 

“One of these days you’re gonna use the wrong channel and the entire house is gonna hear you,” JJ says into her own second mic, but she’s grinning too. 

“Let ‘em listen, they’d just be jealous,” Penelope says breezily. “Another one?” 

“Can we run ‘Eviler Twin’ with the new bridge?” Spencer asks. 

Penelope adjusts levels on his synths and shoots him a thumbs up. “You got it, Boy Wonder. Hotch, count ‘em in.” 

-

Lead singer Emily Prentiss has a larger-than-life presence from the moment she steps onstage. She’s commanding and confident, and it’s hard to take your eyes off of her, whether she’s crowdsurfing, jumping around the stage, or delivering one of her trademark fiery speeches between songs. 

When Prentiss first expressed an interest in singing, her mother hired a private vocal coach who specialized in opera, and was disappointed when her daughter showed interest in less classical genres. 

“She was pissed,” Prentiss says, smiling to herself. “I started sneaking out when I was fourteen or so and going to this one little local dive bar that got all the punk and hardcore bands. I’m still not sure how I convinced them to let me in. But seeing the Dead Kennedys made me decide I was going to be in a band. I just looked at Jello Biafra and thought, I want to do that.”  

While their music isn’t explicitly political, the band themselves aren’t shy about expressing their opinions, Prentiss in particular. 

-

“...and that’s why I never wear a bra,” Emily finishes. “Does that answer your question?” 

“I think so?” Paul says hesitantly. He’s making a noble effort not to look down at her tits. 

Emily’s pretty sure it doesn’t answer the question, not even a little bit, but she’s also pretty sure the question was about relationships, so. Fuck that question. 

Emily’s not great at press, but she is excellent at rambling about the patriarchy until people tune her out. 

-

Drummer Aaron Hotchner, best known as “Hotch,” has become the unlikely sex symbol of the band, despite being the only one who’s happily married. The attention only seems to embarrass him. 

“It’s real fun to read him thirst tweets and watch him turn colors,” Penelope says, with a devilish grin. “But you didn’t hear it from me.” 

When Hotch goes out to greet fans after the show, the female shrieks reach a deafening pitch. He greets everyone with a charming, dimpled smile and talks to each one as if there’s no one else waiting for his attention. The crowd is sizeable and some of the fans are overfamiliar, to put it mildly, but Hotch spends over an hour there, speaking to everyone individually. He remains unfailingly polite, taking pictures and signing things even after the rest of his bandmates have excused themselves for the night. 

“He’s just the sweetest,” one girl sighs to her friend as they finally head home. 

Hotch, who is notoriously unenthusiastic about talking to the press, did not want to comment. 

-

“Love you too, Jack. Take care of your mom,” Hotch is saying, as he walks through the green room door. He hangs up, and Emily can see the moment he notices Paul; his smile vanishes and his eyebrows flatten in a scowl. 

“Was that your son?” Paul asks politely. 

“Yes.” 

“How is he?” 

“Fine.” 

Paul’s smile falters for a second. “Do you talk to them every night, when you’re on the road? Touring must be tough.” 

Hotch just gives him a curt nod this time and Emily winces. Paul clears his throat. 

“So… you used to play in a grunge band, is that right?” he asks tentatively. 

Hotch gives him another stony look. “That is correct.” 

JJ opens the door, and Emily can’t help but mutter, “Oh thank fuck.” 

JJ looks between Hotch, who is holding eye contact without blinking, and a petrified Paul. Then she quirks an eyebrow at Emily, who gives her a panicked nod. 

“Hi there, you must be Paul,” JJ says warmly. She jabs Hotch discreetly in the side as she passes him. “Rossi and Morgan are getting food, Hotch, they said you should join them.” 

He looks like he’s about to protest, but Emily shoots him a look and he heads for the door. 

JJ sits next to Paul with a dazzlingly bright smile, eyelashes fluttering. “It is so nice to meet you. Reid and Garcia are in the batcave, I’m happy to take you out there, but I’m all yours if there’s anything you’d like to ask me about first.” 

Emily shoots her a thumbs-up and escapes before Paul notices. 

-

Jennifer Jareau, better known as “JJ,” has the sort of wholesome, all-American beauty that turns heads wherever she goes; she wouldn’t look out of place on a magazine cover. In fact, modeling was what led her indirectly to the band. 

JJ started playing music in her high school marching band, but never intended to pursue it seriously. She was the valedictorian of her small town’s high school and had a full scholarship to the University of Pittsburgh. Between her sophomore and junior years, though, she was spotted by a modeling agency and offered a job; it would just be one week, in Los Angeles. She says she was most excited about the opportunity to fly in an airplane for the first time. 

While in L.A., JJ met Prentiss, and the rest is history. The two women seem to work seamlessly together and frequently complete each others’ sentences, but while Prentiss is commanding and confident, JJ is soft-spoken and feminine, almost motherly. 

-

“I always wanted a family,” JJ says, with her most heartfelt Colgate-ad smile. “It ended up looking a little different than I expected, but here we are.” 

JJ’s 95% sure that’ll be the pull quote for the article. Men like Paul eat that traditional shit up with a spoon; she should probably rein it in before he jizzes himself. 

-

The “batcave,” as they call it, is so full of gear and recording equipment that I stand in the doorway while I talk to Reid and Garcia. Her desk takes up a third of the room, and it holds two laptops in addition to several sound boards and microphones. She’s putting together a rough demo of a song they started working on a couple days earlier. 

Reid, meanwhile, is sitting on the floor, surrounded by the disassembled parts of two amps, and he’s tinkering with something tiny and delicate-looking. When I ask what he’s doing, he rattles off a rapid-fire string of technical jargon, and I have to ask him to repeat himself. He looks to Garcia, who holds up her hands as if to say ‘don’t look at me,’ and Reid turns back to me to say, simply, “I’m making it sound better.” 

Reid has a tendency to speak at three times the speed of most humans, and frequently goes off on baffling tangents about everything from obscure composers to beekeeping to the origins of Halloween. It’s hard to follow, sometimes, but his bandmates seem used to it. 

When asked if anything has changed with the band’s recent success, he says thoughtfully, “I honestly haven’t noticed. None of it makes a difference to me, as long as I get to play music.” He pauses for a moment, then adds with a smile, “My high school reunion last month was very satisfying, though.” 

-

“... William Onyeabor, of course! Lately, also, a lot of Philip Glass and Gil Scott-Heron.” 

Spencer realizes he’s been staring up at the ceiling instead of talking to the reporter. He blinks and refocuses. Paul looks slightly shell-shocked. 

“So to answer your question, yes, we do spend a lot of time writing when we’re on the road,” Garcia interjects. Spencer winces. “We’ll probably have almost an album’s worth of demos by the time the tour is over. We could stay in here all day, the trick is getting Reid to remember to eat.” 

Spencer rolls his eyes. 

“So is that how you guys spend most of your spare time? Writing and playing music?” Paul asks. 

“Well, it’s not like we’re total shut-ins,” Garcia says. “We go out and have fun too. Admittedly, JJ and Emily’s idea of fun is starting bar fights, but -”

“Really?” Paul asks, looking at Spencer curiously. 

He scoffs. “No, she’s kidding.” 

Garcia, absorbed in whatever she’s doing on her laptop, continues absent-mindedly: “Well, it’s not that they start fights, but they both do Krav Maga and also attract a lot of idiots, so… idiots start bar fights and then the girls finish them. Let me tell you, you do not want to mess with JJ.” 

Paul looks at Spencer again. He shakes his head quickly. 

“I mean, can you really picture JJ in a bar fight?” he asks, forcing a laugh. 

Garcia’s still rambling. “Honestly though you really gotta watch out for this one right here. Reid’s our resident wild child.”  

He gives Paul a disarming, wide-eyed, ‘who, me?’ smile and shakes his head again. 

“Oh, man, one time in Boston he -” 

“Garcia,” Spencer interrupts. She looks up, glances at the tape recorder in Paul’s hand, and shuts her mouth hastily. Paul is starting to look suspicious.

“Ha! Just kidding,” Garcia says shrilly. “He’s a big ol’ dork, really.” 

Spencer nods earnestly, doing his best puppy eyes. “I spend most of my time reading, honestly. She’s just trying to make me seem cooler.” 

Paul’s expression clears slightly. “That… makes sense.” 

He doesn’t press for details, which is good. The legendary Boston Incident is not something Spencer needs in print. 

-

Derek Morgan learned guitar from his father, a Chicago blues artist, but says that when he began to write his own music, he immediately gravitated to classic rock. He cites Hendrix, the Rolling Stones, and Led Zeppelin as influences, and it’s easy to see that onstage; Morgan has the rakish charm and suggestive swagger to rival the moves of any of his idols. If anyone out of the group were to fit the mold of the traditional rockstar, I’d expect it to be him. 

The truth is much more innocuous. Offstage, he’s a perfect gentleman, respectful and chivalrous to a fault. He doesn’t drink, and he somehow finds time to work out almost every day, even when they’re on the road. 

“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m dead boring,” he says, with a wide grin. “Truth is, none of us really fit into any of the usual boxes. That’s why we get along so well.” 

He says Garcia is his best friend in the group, and I can tell he’s fiercely protective of the band, especially the women. When asked if he’s usually the one looking out for the girls, he laughs. 

“Honestly, they’re not the ones I worry about,” he says. “But sure. We all look out for each other, really.”   

-

The bartender shows up, finally, and slides two glasses over to JJ. She knocks back the shot first. If this dumb hipster keeps slurring at her about how much artistry there is in dubstep, she’s going to need another one very soon. 

“People just don’t get it,” he says, sidling a little closer. JJ steps back. 

“Ben - Ken?” she asks, and the guy pauses, affronted. “I’m sure that’s very interesting, but you should probably know that I’m gay.” 

He raises his eyebrows. “Like, gay gay?” 

“Gayer by the second,” JJ says coolly. 

“How do you know, though?” Ken says, which is a level of douchebag she didn’t actually expect from him. He must be even drunker than he looks. 

JJ gives him a polite smile. “I’m going to go find my friends now.”

“Hey, hang on.” 

He grabs her arm as she turns away. Behind his back she can see Derek heading in their direction. She gives him a little “stand down” wave. 

“Bad idea,” she warns Ken. 

“Oh yeah? What -” 

“Back off,” Emily snaps, appearing at her side. 

Ken looks at them mutinously, and as they turn away, he mutters something that sounds like (but probably isn’t) “Duckin’ bikes.” 

“Say it to my face,” JJ tells him sweetly. “Let’s see how that goes for you.” 

“What are you gonna do about it?” he asks belligerently. 

Emily grabs one of his wrists and twists hard, while JJ gets the other. Ken yelps. 

“Everything okay here?” Derek says from behind him. He’s doing what can only be described as looming in a distinctly menacing way. “I think it’s time for you to head home, buddy.” 

“Shoo,” Emily adds. “Go on. Skedaddle.” 

Ken skedaddles. JJ can’t help but laugh.

“We had it under control,” Emily reassures Derek. 

He frowns. “You sure?”

“Just another one who thought he could cure me with his magic dick,” JJ says with a shrug. “More shots?” 

“No way, uh-uh,” Derek interrupts sternly. “Emily. Come on. You remember what happened last time you tried to outdrink JJ?” 

“It was so much fun until then, though,” JJ chirps. He knows them too well. She exchanges a look with Emily. 

“Hey, have you seen Reid lately?” Emily asks innocently, and while Derek is scanning the crowd and scowling, JJ gestures to the bartender. 

-

Only time will tell whether Business As Usual will continue to grow in popularity, but Rossi seems confident that they’re here to stay. To hear him tell it, he’s met everyone from the Stones to the Strokes (“And I have the scars to prove it!”) and he has an eye for which bands are in it for the long haul. 

He says, “Long-term success isn’t about who’s the most talented musicians or the best performers, although these guys are both. So many bands crash and burn early.” 

“Why is that? What makes you so sure these guys will be different?”

“You hear people blame it on the lifestyle, the drugs, the parties, but truth is, those don’t matter all that much as long as the band is taking care of each other.” He smiles proudly. “These guys, they’ll always have each others’ backs. They’re a team.” 

-

“You about ready to head back to the hotel?” Hotch asks quietly, lining up his shot. “This isn’t going to last much longer.” Sure enough, he sinks the ball neatly and straightens up, giving the table a calculating look. 

“Let me round ‘em up,” Derek says. “Meet you outside in five.” 

“When has it ever taken five minutes to round up this bunch?” Hotch asks wryly. “You have fifteen and then I’m leaving. Shout if you need help.” 

He spots Penelope first. She’s in the middle of the dancefloor, dancing with a guy who might as well have cartoon hearts popping out of his eyes. She’s not drunk to the point where she’s doing her signature Shitfaced Shimmy, so she won’t be too hard to wrangle. He catches her eye and taps his wrist, then points to the door, and she shoots him a thumbs up. 

Piece of cake. 

He looks around for Reid next, hoping against hope that the kid hasn’t attracted any crazy tonight. He’s not sure why or how, but Reid has proven more prone to disaster than the rest of the crew combined. If you asked Derek who in the band was most likely to get slapped, get kidnapped, get stabbed (accidentally), lose his shoes on the way back from the bathroom, get fully lost on the way to the bathroom, get hit on by a prostitute, puncture his own foot with a dart, snort something sketchy and end up wired til dawn, or befriend a mob boss, the answer would be Spencer Reid, every damn time. 

He knows this because Reid’s already done most of those things. 

Emily pops up at his side. Her level of sobriety is surprising until Derek notices the smug smile on her face and the phone number Sharpied on her arm. He gives her a fist-bump. 

“Meet you outside,” she says cheerfully. 

This might be even easier than he thought. 

“Hey, Emily,” he calls, and she turns back to look at him. “Have you seen Reid or JJ?” 

“JJ found me a while ago to borrow my swiss army knife,” she says thoughtfully, and then her eyes widen in realization. “She never came back and I haven’t seen Reid. Shit.” 

“Alright, you check outside, look in the alley, I’ll do a sweep around here. If Garcia’s not already outside, call Hotch.” Emily nods curtly and turns toward the door. 

Derek elbows his way around the fringes of the dance floor, scanning the crowd for JJ’s blonde hair, but no luck. He checks a couple of the out-of-the-way nooks and crannies where Reid likes to curl up to pass out, even glances under a couple tables, but there’s no sign of him. He heads for the door that leads to the hallway with the bathrooms. 

He almost runs right into JJ and Reid, who are arm-in-arm as they burst through the door. 

“Oh good,” he says, mildly surprised to see them both upright. Then Reid looks up with big, innocent eyes, sniffing and twitching his nose like a goddamn rabbit, and JJ flaps her hand urgently toward the front of the bar, stepping around Derek without breaking stride.   

“We should go,” she says quickly. “Now.” 

“What did you do?” he groans, shepherding them through the crowd. He can see them exchange a glance. JJ wipes her nose with the back of her sleeve, Emily’s multi-tool still clutched in her fist. 

“We may have rearranged some things,” Spencer mutters. 

“There might be some physics magic brewing,” JJ adds. 

Just as Derek half-shoves them through the front door, he hears a shout from the direction of the bathrooms.

Amazingly, everyone is standing on the sidewalk waiting for them. 

“Double time,” Derek says hurriedly, and they all fall into step. 

“Eight minutes and thirty-seven seconds,” Hotch says, looking at his watch. He holds a hand out to Penelope. “Pay up.” 

“Thing One and Thing Two over there were just stirring up some chaos,” Morgan explains. 

“Do I want to know?” Penelope asks, fishing a twenty out of her purse. “Is this a plausible deniability situation?”  

Emily shakes her head. “I swear, Reid, one of these days I’m going to put a leash on you, and not in a fun sexy way.” 

JJ and Reid are already half a block ahead of the rest of them, arms linked, heads together like they’re plotting again. JJ lets out one of her weird little coke-giggles and Derek can hear Reid chattering about… the Wizard of Oz, for some reason? Whatever. 

Just another day for this weird-ass bunch he calls family. 

[hitsuackerman]

Unpredictable (Overhaul x Reader) pt.4

a/n: I love Gei here xD do ya’ll love Gei? I hope you guys love his extra ass <3

warnings: this cannot be read solo, cursing(?), subtle flirting

Links: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 5

Masterlist to my other fics: here :)

Overhaul’s waiting list: @jjk-biased​ @infinite-universe-love​

Taking your planner from your bag, you jotted down a reminder to dig up some old case files regarding the 3 villains Tsukauchi had just mentioned. Everything seemed clearer now as to why Overhaul managed to snag an invite. He was one of them no matter what his ideals were.

Forking the last bit of cheesecake, you stuffed your planner back into your bag and exited the shop. Scanning the area for any black cars, you were relieved that no one had been tailing you. There was a rising suspicion that Overhaul stalked you but perhaps it was simply chance. You couldn’t blame him though, you were usually buried under stacks of documents at this time of day.

Walking towards your first stop, you had to interview a witness by the convenience store. One of the cases you were working on involved arson. At first glance, you ruled it out to be some villain’s nasty prank. The more you dived into the case, you realized this was organized.

“So you recall seeing a person with black hair across the street?” You questioned the cashier while eyeing some chocolate bars. “Do you remember what he wore or an estimate of his height?”

“I can’t really picture his height but I do remember him wearing  a dark blue jacket with a high collar.” Peering at the glass doors, the witness tried to think back on the events that had happened. It had been a week since the incident but the fear was still there. “He just stared at the store for a couple of minutes, I remember. After that, he turned to that corner over there. Moments later, the explosion happened.”

“Hmm…” You mentally took down notes. Nothing much to take from that statement. “Well, thank you for your time and if you see something please don’t hesitate to call.”

Handing him your business card, you exited the store and crossed the street. Heading towards the corner mentioned, you scanned for any possible belongings left behind or a tell tale sign the initial investigators failed to see. Nope. Empty-handed.

Making your way back to the precinct, you felt a vibration in your pocket. Taking your phone out, you stopped walking and you blinked yourself back to reality.

You: Thanks for the cheesecake. Not gonna work.

Overhaul(?): Bold of you to assume I was after something.

Would it be logical to reply to his message? Moving aside to let people walk, your thumb tapped the locked screen. Generally speaking, there would be nothing wrong if you answered back. Communication was key, afterall. And, to top it off, he was basically your partner for this mission. Maybe some playful banter here and there wouldn’t hurt. That’s all you’ve been doing, anyway.

Chewing on your lower lip, you scowled and put your phone back into your pocket. Tsukauchi was right. His charm was strong. Either that or you're just paranoid of being kidnapped by one of the strongest men in the yakuza. Yet, a part of you wanted to know if he was waiting for your response. Probably not. Facing your gray cubicle once again, you rummaged through the metal file bin and pulled out a rather thick manila envelope. Closing the drawer with your foot, you tossed the envelope to your desk and began to search for what you needed.

The first document you found was of Nokusu. Looking at his quirk information, you took into account his ability to bend and manipulate shadows. The small footnote indicated that light played no weakness to his quirk. He wasn’t that up there in terms of ranking but he knew his cards well enough.

Setting it aside, the next file you picked up was of Tamisura. Ahh. You remember her all too well. Still an intern at the time, it was still clear as day the way the chief of police came with a rather huge gash on his chest. Healing him took 4 days and the only thing he mentioned was a name. Tamisura.

There was no detail about her quirk. Flipping a few more pages, the chief’s statement was all you had.

‘It seems as if her quirk gives her momentum. Stopping her movements was impossible.’ That’s what it stated. With the number of quirks present, it was a little too vague for your liking. Oh well. You had an idea and you could pull some straws with that. Stacking it on top of Nokosu’s file, you found the last of the three.

Akuji. Holder of one the most annoying quirks to deal with. Telepathy. Everyone is an open book when it comes to his mind.

Ransacking the files, you let out a loud and long groan. To your amazing luck, their profiles all had masks covering their faces. No stranger to this turn of events, you thought about contacting your confidants about possible information regarding these people but even you didn’t want to risk their safety. Villain or not. It became a habit of yours to make sure the favors you ask for are worth it.

Resting your chin on your palm, you reached for your phone and unlocked it. The first thing you see was the exchange you and birdman had. Checking at Tsukauchi’s desk, you found him hunched and busy encoding his cases. Eyes back on the screen, you decided to send a little message.

You: Busy?

Overhaul(?): Are you after something now?

You: I hate you. But, yes.

Overhaul(?): No.

What were you even expecting? Amused with the little exchange, you stretched your joints and packed your stuff. The profiles of the three villains now tucked into your bag. With only 15 minutes left before your shift ends, you took the liberty of scrolling the internet for dresses. Told to dress appropriately for the gala, you would have to comply.

There was no theme indicated but you were sure to go there with a black ensemble. That color was the safest and it was also the easiest to pick from. Getting a faint picture as to what you wanted to buy, you peaked at the wall clock and immediately turned your desktop off.

"Before you leave," Tsukauchi piped up. Peaking at you from his cubicle. "Chief wants to talk to you."

Nodding at his message you went up the stairs and hummed towards the chief's office. He'd probably want updates. He always did have a knack for annoying you. The mission barely started and he's already pinning you to the corner. Knocking on his door, you heard the permission to enter.

Now seated on the guest sofa, you gave him a respectful bow. As did he. Telling you to sit down, you obeyed.

"I request a little update of the mission." He began. The not so subtle exhale from your nostril only proved how obvious he could be at times. "How's working with Overhaul?"

"The status of the mission only has one movement. The upcoming gala has a few villains joining as well." You reported. "I'm not so familiar with how the yakuza works in big events like this, though. So, I took...no. I decided to join the event with him as my plus one."

"Smart choice." He nodded at the developments. "Has he taken his mask off?"

Snickering at the question, you shook your head.

"Take that as a side quest of yours." He instructed. "We need an update on his profile. We're still empty as to what he looks like without that mask. Gain his trust. Just enough for him to show you his face."

Great. Your personal mission just evolved into official business. Accepting the task, you pushed it aside and would rather let things take its course naturally. Overhaul was something else and there was no way you would rush things. Especially if it meant him showing something personal. You were keeping your word. One purpose and one purpose only.

Conveying what he needed to, he dismissed you and you were more than excited to get the hell out of his suffocating office.

Take out. That's what you needed to unwind.

Now that you were walking down the street, establishments began to light up the path. Neon signs heavily contrasting the orange and pink skies. With the mall coming to view, you decided now would be a good time to look for an outfit. And, mostly because shopping calmed your nerves each time you had the talk with the chief.

The air condition was heaven. Heading to the area where dresses were sold, you went inside the first store you saw.

The dresses were nice but came with a high price. Though thanks to your dad, your shopping needs were never a problem. Keeping yourself glued to the ground was always simple. With the job you had, the temptation of impulsive buying always flushed down the drain. Instead, the money put under your name went into aiding your missions and a few under the table deals here and there.

Seeing a dress you liked, you decided to try it on.

Inside the plush fitting room, you stared at your reflection. This brand always did good at flaunting the curves you had. The amount of running and training you did paid off. The dress was backless save for a small but secure bow resting on your nape. The lace mesh wrapped your arms delicately and the bead work was intricate. He would like this.

"Whot?" You thought out loud. Scratching your nape, your vision trailed towards  your face in the reflection. Your cheeks were a little pink and once again your heart rate was a little quicker than normal. “Lack of sleep. Caffeine overdose. Yes.”

Deciding to buy the said dress, you were accompanied to the counter by the clerk. As they were preparing the box and paper bag, you scanned a few trinkets inside locked glass boxes. Most of them jewelry for women and studs for men. They did look nice but you weren’t a big fan of diamonds.

One did capture your attention. Moving closer to it, you saw a shiny gold pair of cufflinks. Upon closer inspection, you saw how the small jewelry had what looked to be a crow. It was small but distinguishable if you knew your birds. Checking the tag, it wasn’t all that expensive. Y20,000.

Okay, maybe it was a little expensive but it looked hella worth it.

“Here’s your dress, miss~” The clerk snapped you out of your thoughts. The smile she used on all customers showing on her face. Her cherry red lips popped due to her pale skin. Accepting the bag, you glanced one more time at the tiny trinket. She seemed to catch up quickly. “Those are limited edition Bivenchy cufflinks. Would you like to see them?”

“Uh, w-” You let out a defeated sigh and agreed to look at the cufflinks.

An hour later, you were now back in the comfort of your apartment. The big paper bag with your dress now laid flat on your coffee table. Beside it, a smaller box with the brand’s name displayed in the center. Sending death glares to the impulsively bought item, you took out the contents and flopped onto your sofa.

Flipping the lid open, inside were the same cufflinks. They seemed to shine even more with the lights your unit had. Cursing yourself, you hadn’t put into consideration that a guy like Overhaul would probably have this item already. Or, something even more expensive knowing him. Closing the box, you placed it on the table and did what you had to do for the rest of the night.

Now that you were ready for bed, you scrolled down to Gei’s contact and called him.

“Hellooo my sweet quiet friend.” He greeted. The faint sound of television could be heard in the background. “What can I do for thee?”

“Hair and make up in two days, is that alright?” You asked shyly. When it came to underground thugs or villains, you were hella confident in asking for favors or settling deals. But when it came to Gei, you were like a child in her first day of school.

“Wanna look good for yo man, I presume?” He teased. For sure, his right eyebrow was cocked high by now.

“I wanna look good for the people in the gala.” You defended yourself. Twirling a few strands of your hair, you let out a yawn. “And, I don’t trust myself with makeup.”

“What time will he be pickin you up, booboo?”

“6. So, you can drop in at 4.”

“Copy on that.” He agreed. “OH OH OH. Did you buy a dress? Please tell me you’re not wearing that monstrous thing from 2 years ago. Honey, that color made me want to puke.”

Cringing at the memory of that vile yellow and purple dress, you THOUGHT you looked good in.

“I went shopping. Don’t worry.”

“What brand?”

“Auscer de la Venta…”

“YAS BEECH! WIG SUH-NATCHED!” He screeched through the line. “I swear to Queen Todrick, if his jaw ain’t gonn drop, imma whoop. His. Ass. even if it kills me. Oooh~ You think he’ll take his mask off?”

“Probably not. I doubt he’d even eat anything at the gala.” There it was again. The second person to wonder about what he was hiding underneath. There was the idea that he hid his face so he could get away if things didn’t turn out. But you recalled his explanation that he hates the air around him. “He hates dust so taking the mask off would probably be the last thing he would ever do.”

“Oh my lords.” Gei breathed out. “If he disappears when the food comes, I bet my money he’ll be eating in the men’s toilet.”

Okay. That made you laugh. Hopefully, you wouldn’t picture that scenario when he comes pick you up.

Gossiping for a few more minutes, your energy levels were now gone. Saying farewell to your friend, the moment you closed your eyes, you immediately fell asleep.

- - - - -

are yall enjoying the story so far? :’) comment or message me if you want to be a part of Overhaul’s waiting list or any questions about the story :)

[rankdisasster]

william-hargroves here! 5 facts or headcannons for punch-drunk love 🥰

a/n: masterlist is in my bio if anyone wants to know what this comes from. I don’t even know how to do tiny headcanons I’m way too extra for them but I freaking LOVE you dude!!!!!! still working on the sequel for this too. anyone can send me a fic of mine they’d like more scenes from in my ask !

5 extra scenes to punch-drunk love:

1.) When The Breakfast Club first came out his senior year, Billy got dragged to the theatre by his little sister to go see it. The little redhead was beaming with excitement over her crush on Andrew Clark and the fact that it was a John Hughes masterpiece.

Her brother, however, complained the entire drive AND trailers about how pointless and typical teen movies are. They’re far from his preference. If there wasn’t a sex scene with a hot girl or gore and violence then he just wasn’t interested, plain and simple.

But as the movie progressed, the characters started to get to know eachother in their little circle, smoking pot and bonding over how much they hate themselves and their lives; he couldn’t deny he was thinking of all the good times you two shared in detention or Saturday school too. He totally pictured you being the Molly Ringwald to his Bender. Kissing and adoring you before graduating when the days spent in solitary were over. Maybe you’d even give him one of your shiny dainty earrings just like Molly did. Then afterwards he’d dramatically throw his fist in the air in triumph like Bender.

He keeps the tears that welled up away from Max so she couldn’t see by the end credits. He didn’t ever admit it but he went to see Breakfast Club at least another four times by himself.

2.) It was kinda but kinda not a secret that you were a sly troublemaker. Billy asked the day he got to talking with you why you were even in here, weirdly a lot like how inmates in prison talk about their sentences. You’d been coy when he asked, but he knew you were guilty at least of drawing dicks on the desks and sticking a thumbtack upside down on Kaminsky’s swivel chair before he sat down. He ended up taking a week off to heal his ass that had been stabbed. Billy totally gave you a high five after that one.

3.) Sometimes Kaminsky would take naps while “watching” over you both, and it was his fault for being foolish enough to make himself so vulnerable in front of two delinquents that loved creating chaos just for the sake of chaos. Billy would share contests with you on who got to fuck with him the most before he wakes up. You’d always win that trophy of course. You even got away with plugging his nose while he snored with his head back and feet propped up to the cluttered desk. Mastered the art of batting your eyes and looking all innocently pretty, getting away with much more than Billy ever could.

4.) Billy would blow spitballs at you with a laugh while you’d flip him off and try dodging his attacks. Sometimes you two would also take turns drawing each other pictures to waste time. He drew you his best Picasso-esque illustration of boobs and skulls. You’d giggle at the dirty joke before it was your turn. Playing hangman or patty cake in sheer boredom too. One time he even let you paint his nails black. Billy couldn’t lie and say it didn’t look badass, and he got better at it the more you taught him how to stay in the lines of his fingernails. He asked for your pink colored polish one time and didn’t give a fuck about any of the weird side-eyed looks he got from his dad or superficial friends. Because you said so yourself that it was hot if a guy was in touch with his feminine side and the courage it took to break the norms of being masculine, he didn’t stop.

5.) Billy always gets fucked up and does shit he regrets at every get together with Tommy’s place being their playground. Deliriously partying on a usual Friday and fiercely losing track of how many he’d had that night, he saw you sipping punch in the corner hiding from the rest of the crowd.

Billy approached you with what he thought to be smooth, irresistible seduction, which, to be frank without any drunk goggles on... was a sloppy slurring mess. His opening line was even “what’s a girl like you doin’ in a place like this” before hiccuping. You’d been stunned by him even noticing you outside of detention, raising a brow while taking small careful sips from the red solo cup.

He spouted more nonsense about you, the pranks you always pulled, and Molly Ringwald. Confused yet still entertained, you noticed his eyes at one point resting a second too long to be considered a blink and his speech slowing down even more. So you took him to the couch and tucked him in with a mountain of blankets smothering every inch of him. The drunk disaster that was hardly making sense anymore had whined when you wouldn’t cuddle with him. He just pouted to himself before snatching a nearby pillow and drooling on it in a drunken sleep. You didn’t know you’d ever hear him say the things he said while that fucked in the head with booze, but you were wrong when the phone rang one particular night a few months later.

—

super carried away and lost in this, but SEND MORE OF MY FICS YOU WANT EXTRA SCENES OF ! I WEIRDLY LOVED DOING THIS

[oscurolibelle]

A Princess and the Pea Story - Madatobi Fairytale #2

Elements: Young Men Seeking Refuge, Shinobi deceiving each other, Tobirama accidentally infiltrates the Uchiha Main House, oops Inspiration: The Messed Up Origins of Princess and the Pea | Fables Explained - Jon Solo https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OH9bmjpr-Nw

Music to listen to while reading: 月下情人(월하정인) (Two Lovers Under Moonlight) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Ah2K1Er0ik He was a good heir. He really was. Got up early every morning. Tended to his little brothers' needs, followed around his older brother as his partner to help him in his duties. That was until Kou fell in battle. Madara mourned him like any good Uchiha would, and watched darkly as his younger brothers cried themselves to sleep that night. The memory still haunted him to this day. He sighed, rising from his bed in the dead of the night, the winter chill seeping through the walls of the wooden house. A storm raged outside. He frowned, listening to the wind roar. At this rate, the storm would not pass for many days, delaying their missions and causing them more financial grief. He was sure to hear about this from Tajima. "You must marry soon." "You need to find new blood worthy of this clan." "Preferably with money.” 

He scoffed, throwing an extra blanket around himself and padding towards the main room for more warmth. He knew he needed to marry. The clan needed the morale boost, they needed the money. But he needed to feel loved and since news of Hashirama's engagement to the Uzumaki princess, Madara had to admit to himself that he felt a tad left out. Even if they were enemies. The problem was, Madara didn't want just any woman. He didn't want just any civilian with money or shinobi of class. He wanted love. And as any good Uchiha knew, love was the foundation for who they are. Even Tajima could not deny Madara the chance at the one thing that held the entire clan together. A loveless marriage was bound to tear everything apart from the inside out.

It was then in his thoughts that a knock on the door startled him. Madara cursed himself. He should have been more aware but with the storm raging- Again a polite yet timid knock on the door caught his curiosity. Surely Tajima would be awake by now. He rose to his feet and answered the door despite the wintry blizzard raging outside.

"I.. hate to bother y-you, but could y-you spare a few moments of y-your heat?" As white as the snow blasting around him, bright red eyes like Sharingan, and not at all dressed for the weather, the tall young man shivered where he stood. Madara, against all his shinobi training, stepped aside without a word and held an arm open for the man to enter the house. 

His sharingan whirled to life, taking in the frostbite nipping at the man's fingers, the ice stuck to his skin and frosted lashes, the brilliant red markings on his face stark like blood. If he hadn't been trembling so hard, hunched over in the winter storm, Madara might have mistook him for a ghost or a winter god. The man bowed further. "T-thank you, I apologize f-for any in-inconvenience." His teeth chattered, trying to be polite. It was Tajima's voice that startled Madara to close the door.

"Madara, who is this?" "A refugee, father." One look from Tajima and Madara remembered why taking in others was a bad thing. "A word, son." He turned on his heel padding back down the hallway. Madara motioned for the man to sit by the fire. The pale one nodded, solemnly and bowed again in silence before curling up next to the heat on the floor. Madara steeled himself for his father's annoyances.

"Sir?" "You just let anyone into our home?! He could be a shinobi!" "Father look at him. No one of his coloring would be shinobi. They are too pale. Too sensitive. Did you even see his eyes?" "His what?" "His eyes, father. They're red. Like the sharingan." That put an abrupt stop to Tajima's rant. "Now. Yes we're at war father, but I'm not going to let someone freeze to death outside." "I don't trust it." "Then don't. I'll stay up with him." "He's a shinobi, I know it." With a loud groan, Madara blew him off and brushed past, returning with his own futon and another. "What? I'm not putting him out." Madara frowned as Tajima huffed with indignation. He ignored the older Uchiha and flopped the two futons onto the floor by the fire. "Here you may sleep here until the storm subsides.

Wide red eyes looked up at him, the man now somewhat defrosted, looked rather pink in the firelight, his features somewhere between soft and sharp and Madara felt himself pulled in by the strangeness of it.  "I.." The man paused, listening to the roaring storm outside. "... would like to politely decline as I am not accustomed to help from strangers but it is-" "Are you shinobi?" Tajima ruined the explanation, voice like shattered glass, face pulled taut in a frown. The man blinked. "No. Just got separated from my band." Tajima didn't seem to buy it, but Madara rolled his eyes. Adjusting the futons and blankets, he rose to his feet and nearly pulled at the man. "Let's make tea. It should warm you." He followed Madara without resistance, face a soft reflection of partial innocence. Perhaps he was civilian. 

Tajima frowned. There was one way to find out. 

--

When Tobirama awoke the next morning, the storm still howling outside, he frowned. He'd intended to get warm, find shelter and then head out quickly back to the Senju compound. That was not what had happened. He slowly sat up, his back aching from trying to outrun a storm he knew he couldn't. Madara's voice brought him back to reality, the Uchiha stoking the fire. Tobirama had never seen Madara up close. That had always been his brother's privilege. But here, in the dead of winter storm, lit by firelight, Madara looked strangely domestic and enchanting. Not at all like the absolute beast of a brute he was on the battlefield. Tobirama cursed himself for stopping at the first compound he came across on his way back. 

"Slept well, friend?" "Ah..  as well as can be expected." He sensed Tajima in the hallway, still. No doubt listening. "You were snoring." Madara chuckled, a strangely homey sound and Tobirama flushed. "I apologize. I've been on the road so long, I haven't felt the fires of my home in a while. It was warm here." He stopped himself, wondering, feeling the small object under his futon. "My back hurts a bit. Perhaps I slept wrong." Madara looked up at the comment and frowned. "My apologies, I thought I swept the floor well enough."

"Ah I'm sure it's just my imagination." Tobirama lied his way through, ensuring his demeanor remained soft. His hand ran over the futon again. Yes. Of course. Tajima was testing him. No shinobi worth his salt would complain about something so trival after receiving such aid. But a civilian would. Especially a high valued one. "Although I miss my own." Quickly seeing Madara's face fall, more of a disappointed look than anything else, he regrouped. "I am extremely grateful for your hospitality...friend. I can ensure you are compensated when I return home." "Compensated?" "Yes.. we are a large family." Not entirely a lie. "We have funds and I'm sure my brother would be so happy to give you payment for assisting me." Also not really a lie. "We need no payment." Madara scoffed softly, his pride showing through. Slowly, Tobirama was starting to see why Hashirama liked Madara so much. He had to say, he couldn't blame him. "Then I would ask if you let me stay until the storm subsides completely... I am not accustomed to the weather like this."

--

Madara fought with Tajima for the next two nights. Pleading with him to stop his conspiracies and his tactics, noting every morning the pale man awoke, another mattress, another object until finally there were three mattresses atop a small object. Madara rolled his eyes. Surely this was overkill and somehow he had to make it seem like they weren't testing him. 

The man took it all with grace, a beautiful smile and pinked cheeks. Madara watched as his guest curled up for the third night atop three futons and smiled back at him. "I would think you are a charmer, if not for the dying of the storm, I might be tempted to stay, Madara-san." Red eyes glimmered at him and the Uchiha flushed. "I have made no attempt to charm you, Tobira-san." Madara shifted on his own futon. "We simply wish to ensure you're returned to your family without injury. Although I have swept this floor five times before laying your bed down." 

The two of them snickered in the firelight like young teens. Madara watched as his pale friend laid on his back and looked at the ceiling. "You miss your family." It was more of a statement than a question, although Tobira answered honestly, "Yes." He turned his head to look at Madara, and the Uchiha felt the air leave his lungs. "I will not forget your kindness, Madara-san." "I will not forget your companionship, Tobira."

The two stared at each other for a long moment, before red eyes slowly closed, and his breathing evened out. He fell asleep so easy in a strangers' house. There was no way he was shinobi. Madara sighed, sharingan whirling to life yet again, imprinting the image of the sleeping man into his mind. He was gorgeous and kind. Polite, a civilian, with money. Perhaps... Madara shook it from his head. No. That would be taking advantage of the situation.. he shouldn't.. One more look at his friend, and Madara wondered... should he?

--

Tobirama woke slowly, ensuring to keep his chakra under control, sleeping in Madara Uchiha's front room by the fire next to him for three days had been stressful enough, piled up with keeping the rouse that he was civilian with Tajima pressing him each day for intel, testing his every move.

Tobirama counted five times he'd purposefully hurt himself to show he was 'clumsy' like a civilian. Two times spilling tea on the man, carrying it and slipping on the floor. Six times he'd flirted openly with Madara in front of Tajima just to mess with the man. His ears picked up the sound of the wind calmer, snow fall on the house gentle and calm.

He rose, not really aching at all, but playing the part as Madara only laughed. "You sure are sensitive, Tobira-san." "I am. My disposition makes it even more so." "You refer to your condition or your status?" "Both I suppose." Tobirama offered a sly grin, pulling out his charm as best as he could, softening his edges. Madara flushed in the morning light and looked out the window. "It seems the storm is passed. We can send you safely on your way today." Tobirama nodded, and rose to get ready.

It didn't take the man long at all, a shower, some breakfast, hot tea and he was ready to continue his journey. Tobirama counted his blessings, he had successfully, albeit accidentally infiltrated the Uchiha main house and slept there for three whole days without being caught. Now if only he could- "Tobira-san." Turning, his gaze widened. "Madara-san." The Uchiha held out a large dark coat, Uchiha symbol on the back. "It is not much, but will provide you with more warmth on your journey." 

Tobirama's heart pounded. If he refused, the rouse would be blown. "Thank-" "It is not all." Madara helped him into the coat, then bent to wrap his feet in socks and cloth before sliding boots on that were a bit too small for him. At last Madara stood back and handed him a kunai. "We wish you safety on your journey home. The coat you wear may bring you bad fortune... we are.. not liked in many parts. I would not want you injured on account of my sake."

Three days with Madara Uchiha had changed Tobirama's perspective of everything he thought of Uchiha. What would his brother say when he arrived home, dressed in their symbol? "Tobira-san. If I may be forward." "Of course. I am grateful for your hospitality." He took the kunai gently, as if a civilian would but Madara did not let it go. Dark eyes looked up into his. "For repayment, I would.. I would like something special." Shifting uneasy, Tobirama waited. 

Madara looked away for a moment then took a deep breath before raising his eyes to meet the red crystals he'd grown attached to. "I would like to see you again." Tobirama's heart thumped. Oh. This.. this was unexpected. But not entirely a bad idea.. "I would like to see you again as well." This time, not on a battle field or from a storm. Tobirama wondered to himself. "Thank you, Madara." He bowed, letting his eyes linger too long on the Uchiha, causing him to flush yet again before departing. 

--

"MADARA!" The heir groaned inwardly as the frost melted under the spring sun and turned from his chore of feeding the falcons. "Father?" "The Senju are at the gates!" That spurred Madara's blood and immediately, the compound was on edge, those darting in different directions to bolster defenses. 

But when Madara touched down on the opposite side of the gate, none the Senju moved an inch. In fact, they didn't even look dressed for battle and Hashirama- "Madara, my brother!" "What the hell are you on about, you oaf?!" Madara hissed. "Be quiet!" "I will not! It's a glorious day! We have come seeking peace-" "We have gone over this, Hashirama. There will be no peace-" "Are you certain?" The familiar voice stunned Madara just as Tajima landed next to him in a fury of growls. Madara had been so so very wrong about Tobira.

"Tobira?" "Tobira?" Hashirama gave his brother a questioning look.The pale man pushed his way through the crowd of Senju, ignoring his brother, smiling at Madara. "Madara." The edge of his voice had dropped, softness creeping in and lacing every syllable with fondness. The said Uchiha instantly blushed. Before Tajima could object, the pale shinobi stepped forward. "I am only fulfilling your request. I am here to see you again." If he didn't think he could get any redder, Madara was also dead wrong about that.

The silence that followed from the Uchiha whole was stifling. Madara cleared his throat. In absence of what to say, Tobirama cut off Tajima again. "Do you not still feel the same? Perhaps, we can arrange an agreement?" His eyes wandering over the tattered clothing of the Uchiha, the patched roofs, the rotting gates. "I am from a well off family after all." "Absolutely not-" "Yes." Tajima choked on his own words as Madara spoke. "Yes an agreement would be.. preferable." With the charming smile he'd used so many times on Madara before, Tobirama softened his face and beamed. "Let us make haste, before our families decide death and war is better than coexisting in warmth and safety."

[hilllsnholland]

Bucket List - 1

Pairing: College!Tom x Deaf Reader 

W.c: 3k 

Warnings: drinking, slurs, asshole frat boys 

Tom has no idea what he wants to do with his life. He’s stuck in the suburban town of Creekview with Harrison and two idiots friends. No passion, no drive, nothing but a beer by the poolside. Until he meets Y/N, the Deaf rebel who has a bucket list she needs to complete by the end of the summer. The two come together to make their last summer of freedom the best Creekview has ever seen. What could possibly go wrong? Or more so, what could possibly go right? 

Disclaimer: I am HoH/Deaf so this is completely written from my perspective and experiences within the Deaf community. If you have any comment or questions then you are more than welcome to message me :) 

____

College parties were suppose to be fun. There’s music, drinking, girls half naked, and endless possibilities of how the night would end. Maybe in bed with the hottie from Psychology, maybe in the back of a police car. Tom though? He saw this night going as well as the Bubonic Plague. Tom sat at the corner of the party, his eyes drawn down to the fifth beer since he arrived hours ago. His head thumped with the music, the terrible music he’d hear sitting in the back of Brant’s and Ty’s car. It was plain and he was sick of the life he had been living, which is why he was hiding from everybody.

But he assumed it was his own fault. Tom did decide to move to California with Harrison, away from his family, and to live in this shithole of Creekview. It was a small college town, mainly suburban and privileged kids from around the Bay that have pockets full of Daddy’s money. Although Tom knew that feeling, it was not his scene. He hated the fakery and plastic people he saw every day. The guys in town were douchey, unaware to anything but molly and Bay Area rap. The girls were shallow, counting down days to Coachella and photoshopping their Instagram pictures for people they haven’t seen since high school. It was a far cry from London. It was odd and he didn’t like it. But he dug his grave and he was going to sit in it.

Harrison met eyes with Tom from across the party, he had a drink in his hand and several glow stick bracelets that lined up his forearm. Tom was pretty sure that Haz gave Lauren J, the host of the party, the idea for the neon theme. Tom wore a white shirt that had neon paint splatter on it, the black lights around the party illuminated the colors which made hiding almost impossible. Harrison motioned a thumbs and Tom nodded, ducking behind the back bar again. It wasn’t Harrison so much he was hiding from, but their two knucklehead friends, Brant and Ty.

Brant was going to school on a football scholarship and he fit the mold pretty well. Big and stupid. He was one dimensional and was too focused on hooking up with everyone in Lauren J’s sorority to even notice that Tom had left the group. Ty, however, was tolerable in some doses. He was a pothead who kept his vape on his lips on all time. He was another idiot, but at least Tom could take his presence longer than fifteen minutes.

“Enjoying yourself, my beautiful Brit.” Lauren J mused from behind him.

Tom jumped slightly, knocking the beer to the floor while LJ laughed. She was a pretty girl, head of the Kappa Kappa Sigma sorority, with long brown hair and makeup that was too perfect to falter. She was wearing a neon pink bralette with a pair of black shorts, her hair had neon ribbon entwined with it. LJ turned to Tom with her glowing teeth and began talking like they’ve been friends for years. Tom had met Lauren J in English the semester before and she had made it her mission to become his friend. At first, Tom thought she was trying to hook up, but it became clear that LJ was just the kind of girl who wanted more friends to count.

“Sure. just keep Brant away and I’ll be fine.” Tom groaned as he picked up the empty bottle from the floor.

“Won’t be a problem. He’s trying to hook up with Lauren H right now. He also convinced Ty to say the ‘N Word’ so now Ty is beaten up behind the dumpsters.” LJ shook her head and finished off her red solo cup.

“Perfect, just what I wanted to be associated with,”

Tom pulled the collar of his shirt into his mouth and gnawed on the cotton fabric. He was drunk and angry, those two don’t mix well. The last thing he needed was a bunch of frat boys coming after him because of something his ‘friends’ did. Brant and Ty would never figure it out. Life is not a playground. Tom knew that which is why he didn’t fuck around like they did. LJ placed a small hand on his back and made a pop with her lips.

“Did you decide on your major?” She asked which made Tom shutter.

“No, I have until August 2nd.”

“It’s June. You need to figure it out before classes fill up.”

Tom brushed her off like he did with his parents, brother’s, and Harrison. He had been undecided since he started two years ago and time had come to finally make a decision. Creekview State didn’t allow students to continue past two years unless they had their major set up. His parents had been badgering him for a year to make a choice, Harrison had told him to pick the easiest one, while his brother’s told him to drop out. Easy for them though, Harry had a paid internship with a nature magazine for photography while Sam was going to trade school for carpeting. They had their lives figured out. Tom though, he was lost.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll probably do Psychology, maybe accounting. If all else fails I’ll become a male stripper.”

“I’d pay for that,”

Tom and LJ look at each other and laugh. She brightened a room with her cheeky humor, it reminded Tom of home. LJ winks at Tom before escaping back into the dancefloor of hundreds of drunk college students covered in neon paint. Tom narrowed through the crowd to see any signs of Brant. He spotted Lauren H, only decorated in a neon green bikini, sitting on Brant’s lap, making out like their life depended on it. Tom rolled his eyes and decided another beer would make the sight leave his brain. He had a whole summer ahead of him, better start drinking now.

Tom weaved through the crowd to the functional bar that Harrison was standing at. The two stood next to each other, stealing knowing glances about how the party was going. Tom looked to his best friend, seeing the bright pink lipstick print that covered his neck. Strangely sharing the same shade LJ was wearing. Tom didn’t comment on it though, he knew Harrison and Lauren had a thing. What thing though? He’d never know. It wasn’t his business even if he thought the two were a match made in heaven.

“Did you see Ty get his ass handed to him?” Harrison said lowly against the brim of his beer.

“No, LJ told me about it though. Who beat him up?”

“Kevin McNamara-”

“President of the Black Student Union? I love karma.” Tom smiled for once, enjoying the rightful punishment to an idiot like Ty.

That was the epitome of Brant and Ty. Brant knew he could convince Ty to do whatever he wanted. He probably sent Ty straight to Kevin just to see a good ass-kicking. Tom shrugged away guilt though, he was not a part of it and he wouldn’t mention it to them either. If Brant scored anything with Lauren H, he’d probably forget about the whole incident anyways. Tom looked out into the crowd of dancing drunks and leaned against the bar.

“I’m a better dancer right?” Tom asks which gains a chuckle from Haz.

“Definitely hotshot. Why aren’t you out there?” Harrison places his cup on the counter and turns his full attention to his friend. “When have you been the hiding type?”

“You’re right, I’m not. I’m just not in the mood to dance.”

Harrison exhales through his nostrils and shrugs. He knows Tom would never give up the opportunity to show off his moves. Why else would he have taken dance classes for half his life? Why else would he practice in his room late at night? Tom never missed an opportunity and Harrison could read him. Tom was stressed and the only way to get him out of his slump would be to challenge him.

“Not in the mood? Not even for $100?”

Tom slams the bottle on the bar and gives his best mate a sly smirk.

“What’s the wager div?”

Harrison knows him too well. Put money on the table and Tom will take it in an instant. It’s for pride and to have extra money to spend on ramen and boba. The blond boy looks into the crowd and shrugs at the first idea that pops into his head.

“Get a random girl to dance with you. No cheating either, we know all the same ones so you can’t fuck around.”

Tom snorts at the lazy attempt at a challenge. Although he knows this is Haz’s attempt to get him to lighten up, he’ll go along with it. He needs the extra cash. Tom runs his hands through his hair to get the sexy unkempt look going and prowls around the dancefloor. He looks around for an easy target, a girl he’s seen around but never talked too. Still sober-ish and with a few friends so he doesn’t come off predatory. Tom searches until he finds one girl in a group, he makes his way through the crowd until something bumps into him. He stumbles, grabbing the shoulders of the person he hit and stops them from falling.

“Oops!” The girl exclaims loudly so Tom can hear over the music.

Tom goes to say ‘no problem’ but he looks at the girl and his brain shuts off. The girl has bright pink hair and an alluring stare. She looks at Tom, smiles and rushes back to her friend that she was dancing with. Tom has completely forgotten about the wager, his mission is to dance with whoever that was. Tom blinks to get back to reality before spinning around to find the girl. She’s not too hard to find, she had neon paint all over her and the pink really draws him to her. The girl is focused on dancing, her movements erratic as she moves to the EDM song. Her friend is doing the same, moving her hands wildly to the pink girl.

Tom approaches them and opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. His throat is dry and his brain seised to work because all he can think of is her. The girl looks at him, smirks, then holds out a hand for him to grab. Tom can’t believe it, she’s asking him to dance with her? Tom grabs her hand and follows her lead through the rhythm. They’re standing extremely close to the speaker so the music is thumping through his body with ever bass hit. Tom reaches the last brain cell he has to pull out the moves he’s practiced millions of times before. The girls seem impressed by his moves, laughing while they look to each other while dancing. The pink girl grabs Tom’s shoulders, moving against his body, dipping down and up to meet his stare. Tom in entranced by her and the glossy look of her lips.

“I’m Tom, by the way.” He says to her but she looks at him in confusion.

He repeats himself louder but the girl shakes her head at him. Tom has already won the money from Harrison and now his objective is the girl. He wants to know her name, he wants to talk to her. Hear her voice. The way she dances is magical, she must have more to enchant him with. Tom moves his hands to her waist and motions over to the quiet corner he was in before. The girl looks to her friend who’s motioning wildly at her. The pink girl looks back at Tom and nods in approval. He takes her over to the quiet corner with a new sense of jitters in his body. He didn’t feel this way on the dancefloor, no. This was something he now has because they’re alone. Music farther away so now he can talk but there’s a ball in his throat. The girl looks to him, licking her lips seductively. Tom can’t keep his eyes off of her.

“I’m-I’m Tom.” He runs his hands through his hair nervously.

“Y/N.” She replies. “I’m Y/N.”

Tom laughs for some reason that he’s not even sure of. Y/N, he could say that name a thousand times and he wouldn’t get tired of it. He’s never felt such a burning need before in his life. He doesn’t know if its the messily dyed pink hair, or the way she looks at him with those beautiful eyes. Y/N smiles, crinkling the neon blue paint she has on her face as it flakes off.

“This may sound crazy but like you’re...amazing? Yeah that’s crazy we just met, only danced, and this is the only conversation we’ve ever had. I’m sorry, I’m going off but-”

Y/N grabs the sides of his face to make him look at her. While Tom was rambling he was moving every which way to not make eye contact but now he had to. He had to look into those dreamy eyes and watch her part her enticing lips. Y/N kept her hands on each side of his face while staring at him. Tom thought he saw her begging for something, needing something. He moves his lips to say more but all he wants is to feel her lips on his. So he did just that.

Tom closed that gap without thinking of any consequences. All he needed to know was how she tasted like, which was vanilla, and the feeling of her lips, which was silk. Y/N froze at first but then melted into his touch. Her arms were thrown around his neck lazily while she leaned in to deepen the kiss. Tom felt on top of the world. He felt undeniably powerful. The world had evaporated away and the only thing on his mind was how easily she fit in his arms like a puzzle piece. Tom pulls away slowly, enjoying the last bit of heaven he could get out of her lips. The two look at each other, awestricken by their decisions.

“That was-”

“I’m Deaf.”

“What?”

“I’m Deaf. D-E-A-F.”

Tom blinked at her, totally lost in what the hell just happened. Y/N looks at him with red peering through the neon paint that splattered on her face. Tom furrows his brows and then becomes petrified. He took a leap of faith and realized that he fell right into a ditch. The alcohol was hitting him hard because now he was dizzy. He felt like throwing up and wanted to run into the nearest bush and barf.

“You didn’t want me to kiss you...you were just trying to read my lips.”

“No! Yes! Well….” Y/N stutters while moving her hands. “T-O-M.” She spells while saying his name.

“Yes,” He looks at her while his cheeks burn red.

“I...uh well I-”

Suddenly a hand grabs Y/N’s shoulder, whipping her around to look at who was grabbing her attention. It was her friend from before, an Indian girl with neon paint scattered around her body. Tom teeters on his heels while the two sign to each other angrily. Y/N slams her hands at her side and turns back to Tom with annoyance radiating off of her.

“Tom, I’ll see you again. Promise.”

Y/N holds his hand out flat while she kisses her thumb and places it into his palm. Tom can’t tell if he’s too drunk to understand or if this is a sign he obviously doesn’t know but it makes him feel warm inside. Before Tom can come up with a coherent reply she’s gone. Her pink hair disappears into the crowd while her friend drags her away. Tom staggers over to an open couch, throwing himself onto it and groaning as loud as possible. What he did was stupid, right? Kissing her was dumb? But it felt so good. It felt like a fucking Disney movie and he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“Well you really put on a show,” Harrison’s voice snaps him from his thoughts while a hundred dollar bill lands on Tom’s lap

“Shut. Up.”

Tom rolls his head onto the back of the couch while he rubs his temple to ease the forming migraine. Was it his six beers or the fact he let Y/N walk out without knowing her phone number? Did she even have a phone? Do Deaf people have phones? Tom had a million questions running through his mind and none of them had answers. The only person who could help him was Y/N, and she was gone.

“You look like trash. What did she say to you?”

“She told me she was Deaf,” Harrison’s face contorts into confusion. “I kissed her Harrison.”

“Yeah, I saw that.”

“No, I kissed her and I want her to come back. What the fuck is wrong with me?”

For a brief second the noise of the party is just humming in the back of Tom’s head. His lips are pursed together and his mind can only think of her. Thinking of the neon paint that decorated her skin, the way her eyes watched him speak, and especially how her lips felt like that. He didn’t know what that was, but it was comparable to every Christmas morning. It made Tom come alive for the first time since he arrived in Creekview.

“Maybe, just maybe, this is the only thing right with you,” Harrison states as his beer cup hits the couch.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Harrison replies with a dry laugh. “Sit on it tonight.”

Tom tilts his head so he can watch his best friend disappear into the crowd. Harrison’s blonde hair and neon body melts into the crowd of shifting bodies and the void is now clear. Tom tries to sit up but the alcohol is filling the back of his throat. He knows if he gets up his guts will be spilled onto the grass. Through that drunken haze though he is able to hang on to the thought of Y/N. He brings his hands to his face and tries to replicate what she did earlier. T-O-M. His name. Simple, but on her fingers, it looked like a masterpiece. His could never compare to that. Nothing in his life leading up to that moment with Y/N could ever compare to that.

///

///

Taglist: 

@screeching-student-unknown / @nyctophilicstyles /  @captainbuckyy / @vintage-moonlight / @breadbudzo / @h-natale / @originalpinkpowerranger / @happywolves81 / @drunkgreek / @iamnida95 / @sydthekidsloth / @starksparker / @spiderboytotherescue / @laureharrier

[pumpernickel-simswood]

A Devoted Friend: Pt 3

Part 1 Part 2

Marinette got up and quickly helped set the table. 

Adrien, polite as ever, ended up sitting between Sabine and Marinette. He waited for everyone else to begin eating before he started.

"So," Tom said between bites, "what were you kids studying? Is there a big exam coming up?"

"No, actually, it was a business plan Adrien made for me." Marinette replied, sounding equal parts proud of Adrien and blown away that it was for her.

Both sets of parental eyebrows went up.

Adrien swallowed and smiled politely, "Well, I overheard Marinette discussing opening an online store for her designs and I… I have access to a well of knowledge about that, especially for fashion, so I don't see why I wouldn't help her."

"That's very sweet of you, Adrien." Sabine smiled, "Thank you."

"It's nothing, really." Adrien looked down, feeling his cheeks warm.

"Even if that's true," Marinette began. He glanced up to find earnest eyes peering at him. She continued, "I'm incredibly grateful you put any time into helping me."

"Of course, Mari," Adrien said immediately, "we're friends."

Marinette canted her head at that, slightly.

***

"Thanks so much, Marinette!" Rose hugged her tightly.

"Of course, Rose." Marinette grinned and hugged back.

"We'll see you at school." Juleka smiled.

"Of course." Marinette waved.

"Bye~!" Rose waved back and they descended the stairs.

"And now, Adrien." Marinette muttered as she turned to look at him with an analytical eye. She let out a long sigh, "You got taller again."

A chuckle escaped Adrien, "Sorry?"

"Let's hope I made the pants too long." Mari shook her head in amusement. 

"Capris could work if they aren't." Adrien suggested easily. 

"Uh-huh, sure. Just go try them on, long legs." Marinette laughed.

Adrien snickered and took the clothes, "Be right back."

Marinette made some notes as Adrien changed. The wiki was gonna have to get updated once she actually checked his height. She was pretty sure his shoulders had gotten a bit wider too but she'd have to check.

"So, good news and bad news." Adrien said, stepping from behind the screen, "Good news, the pants fit perfect."

Marinette turned to him, "What's the bad ne- Oh my G-d."

Adrien's shirt was a good inch too short, his midsection showing, "I mean, it's not that bad."

"Adrien, it's at least an inch too short." Marinette put her hands on her hips.

"Truuuue." Adrien chuckled. 

"Alright, let's get measurements." Marinette laughed. 

***

"Alright, I just gotta make you a new shirt." Marinette said, looking up from her notes.

"I can buy replacement fabric if you want?" Adrien offered.

"No, I have enough left over, but thank you. Hopefully neither Ivan or Luka hit a growth spurt before next week." Marinette laughed. "Also, do those colors work for you?"

"Green and black?" Adrien's lips pulled into a playful smirk, "Yeah, I like to think so."

Marinette's brow furrowed but she nodded and made another note, "Okay, good. You can change back, by the way. At the very least, I need the pants back. Not sure how I'll repurpose the shirt yet…"

"Well," Adrien stepped behind the screen to change, "if you just shorten it, then I could have an awesome crop top."

"You want me to?" Marinette asked, surprised. 

"Yeah, the material is awesome and super soft. Plus, may as well make it a crop top when it's already short, right?" Adrien replied.

"Fair point." She shrugged, actively pushing down the desire to imagine him in it.

"Pretty please?" Adrien offered the shirt, redressed.

"Okay." Marinette held it up to his chest, "Where should I cut it to?"

"Uh, here." Adrien indicated. 

Marinette grabbed a marker and made a quick mark. And shortly she handed him the shirt back, now officially a crop top.

"Thanks Mari." Adrien beamed and kissed her cheek, "You're the best. See you later."

Marinette blinked after him as he climbed down the stairs. She raised a hand to her cheek then melted into her chair, "Yeah."

***

"Ugh, and they want Cat Noir specifically to show up for their birthday party." Alya groaned.

"To be fair, that's not that far of a stretch to get. You do actually know Cat. Plus he's pretty good with kids from what I hear." Marinette shrugged, hands in pockets. 

"I know but I dread asking him a favor like that. It seems like small potatoes compared to what he does daily." Alya argued.

Marinette snorted, "Alya, their patrols literally involve getting kittens out of trees and retrieving balloons most days. Just ask. I'm positive he'd love to."

"How can you be so sure?" Alya squinted at her friend.

"Cuz I've met him? And we did work together for Evillustrator, remember? Besides, I've seen how many pics you've gotten of him for your Instagram." Marinette started walking away. "And if you don't ask him, I'll do it for you."

"Hey! No! Don't you dare!" Alya bolted after her.

"I think his solo patrol comes by my balcony tonight, actually." Marinette hummed thoughtfully.

"Why on Earth would you know that? They always randomize their patrol schedules." Alya frowned.

"Because I keep track of everyone's schedules due to my anxiety and I noticed he does what might appear to be a random pattern but is actually just an extended rotational schedule. It, of course, varies based on akuma attacks, but he should pass my balcony tonight on his patrol." Marinette explained with an air of discussing weather.

Also he'd told Ladybug on their last patrol, but it did fit the schedule she kept so.

"Girl, can I just say I'm glad you're not on Hawkmoth's side?" Alya said.

Marinette shrugged, "So, sleepover?"

"Yes!" Alya grinned.

***

Cat Noir bounded across rooftops,delighted by the feeling of weightlessness at the apex of every leap. Things had been quiet so far tonight. A few strays to feed and that one shelter that needed an extra set of hands, but nothing big. Which was great.

He grinned as he raced across the top of his school. He could see the familiar and inviting balcony lights shining tonight. He was going to have to figure out how she always seemed to know when he was out and about one of these days.

As he got closer, he noticed Alya was up there with the princess tonight. Huh. Maybe tonight was a coincidence. Either way.

A well timed jump and flip landed him neatly atop the railings.

Alya jumped and yelped.

Mari simply glanced up, a playful smile pulling at her lips, "Hey Cat."

"Good evening, ladies." He bowed deeply. "Sorry to startle you, Alya."

"N-no, it's okay. I just didn't see you coming." Alya mumbled.

"He is pretty fast." Marinette shrugged. Her eyes returned to Cat, "Aren't you, showoff?"

Cat chuckled at that and crouched, "Oh, so you did see that awesome flip."

"I've seen better." Marinette said.

"Meowch, you wound me, Purrincess." Cat dramatically placed his hands over his heart.

"Mm-hm." Marinette was clearly trying not to laugh. It egged him on more than he cared to admit. She, sadly, turned to a very confused Alya, "Anyway, Alya wanted to ask you something."

"Oh?" Cat canted his head toward the blogger.

"Oh, uh, right." Alya took a deep breath, "I was hoping that you could maybe put in a quick appearance at my sisters' birthday party?"

Cat blinked, "The tall, kinda scary, buff one or the twins?"

Marinette snorted.

"Hey! You try fighting a boxer with spider powers!" Cat objected.

Marinette fell into giggles, "No, not that, just the idea that Anasi would want you at her birthday party."

"It could happen." Cat crossed his arms and scowled.

"Uh, for the twins." Alya interrupted, though she was looking curiously between them.

"I would love to. When is it though?" Cat turned back.

"In two weeks, on Sunday." Alya replied.

Cat hummed, trying to remember if he had anything scheduled, "I think I'm free. I'll message you on the forum when I get home and double check."

"Thank you!" Alya grinned.

"Of course." Cat smiled easily.

Mari nudged Alya, "I told you."

"Fine, you were right. There was nothing to worry about." Alya sighed.

"Hey, if you need anything Alya, seriously, let me know." Cat said.

Alya smiled, "Thank you, Cat."

Marinette picked up a plate of cookies that had somehow escaped his notice and handed them over to the hero.

Cat beamed as he took one, "Y'know Princess…"

"If it weren't for the Bug having your heart, you'd marry me for my baking alone?" Marinette raised a brow and practiced recital, eyes sparkling with mirth.

"Can you blame me?" He chuckled, wrapping the plate back.

"Well! If that's all I'm good for!" Marinette crossed her arms with a huff, though her playful air never truly left her.

"Oh, c'mon, Purrincess, if that was all that drew me here, I'd just buy from the bakery mask off." Cat leaned his face close to Marinette's, sincere and earnest, "You know you're one of my best friends."

She turned her pursed lip glower to stare intently at him. She sighed and turned away, cheeks pinking some, "Yeah, I know. You're one of mine too, Kit."

His heart filled with warm delight. He really loved her caring so much about him. It made him feel so full of light. He knew he was grinning ridiculously but couldn't bring himself to care, even with their audience.

"Yeah, yeah, okay. Go fall off a balcony, Prince Ali." Marinette snorted.

"Oh, as the princess wants." Cat saluted and fell backwards off the balcony.

With quick, well honed reflexes, he bounded back up with his baton onto the next roof, never losing grip of the plate of cookies.

"I want that plate back when you're done!" Mari called after him.

He turned, bowed one last time and bound off. He was almost out of earshot when Alya spoke.

“Girl, what the hell was that!?”

Part 1 Part 2

@ijustwannabecanadian @rianoel @hellolovelyscientist @theworldslittlesis

[rosegardentwilight]

Don’t Miss a Beat

Summary:  Marinette didn’t know what Alya said to convince her to join greek life. But here she was about to be called up as part of her initiation and karaoke in front of all these strangers- the only comfort was an alcoholic drink for courage and the stimulating conversation with a blond guy in a black cat hoodie.

A.n.- The second I got this as my summer santa, I went to work and I really like how this turned out. Hope you enjoy it!

Thank you to Whim, who betaed this! You are amazing!

Pairing: Ladynoir

This was crazy. Marinette didn’t know what she was doing here, dressed ridiculously about to get on a stage and sing in front of a bunch of people. The blame belonged solely to Alya, who dragged her along for moral support, but now it was growing on her. Marinette had to admit some parts of Greek life were fun, and she had met some great friends. After this week, all of these ridiculous hazing tasks, she would be welcomed into the sorority with open arms. With any luck, she wouldn’t have to barge into a cafe and recite her ABC's, or grab a random guy at 10 pm to and bring him as a date.

She walked into the bar, at least by the sound of it; she wasn’t the only one making a fool of herself. The girl on the stage was singing an off-key rendition of Dancing Queen. Marinette grabbed an open table towards the middle of the bar while Alya headed straight for the bar to buy them drinks.

“Nervous?” Marinette turned her head to see a college-aged blonde holding two drinks in his hands and a smile that stretched for days. “Do you need some liquid courage?”

“My friend is getting me some.” Although cute, Marinette didn’t make a habit of taking drinks from strangers.

“The redhead at the bar? This is from her; she asked me to deliver this for her.”

Marinette’s eyes wandered past him in time to see her best friend flirting with a guy at the counter. Even with the distance, she could see the blatant motions for her to make a move on the guy standing there.

“Thanks.” Rules were made to bend sometimes, and she did need the help. With one motion, Marinette downed the drink.

“So your sorority decided to use animals as part of their torture?”

Marinette winced, she thought the makeup was a bit over the top, but her future sister applied it, and she was hardly in a place to protest.  

“I can say the same about you,” she shot back playfully,  glancing at his black hoodie sporting cat ears.

“Guilty as charged,” he grinned, taking a seat across from her, “So, are you a fan of Ladybugs then?”

“Oh.” Her skin flushed with heat, but thankfully part of the face was covered with red paint. “They’re cute, but I mainly got Ladybug as a nickname because I brought luck to a greek competition and I guess the name stuck.”

“Well, it would be too forward to say that you’re the cutest Ladybug I’ve ever seen.”

“My, my, someone’s a flirt, Kitty.” The nickname rolled off her tongue in confidence. With a hoodie like that, he probably had heard the name hundreds of times. Although, Marinette did enjoy seeing the tables turned as his cheeks dusted pink.

“What can I say, I’m a trebled man.”

Marinette held back a giggle. “So what song are you singing?”

“Just some random pop song that they pulled out of a hat. It could have been worse. You?”

“I don’t know,” Marinette confessed, “My big picks the song for me and rates me on my performance.”

“Sounds like you have to be pretty sharp to accomplish that successfully.”

“I’ll just be thankful when my turn is over.”

“What if we made it interesting.” His eyes sparkled mischievously. “Whoever gets the most applause for their performance wins. If I win—I get to take you out on a date.”

“And if I win?” Marinette asked.

He opened his mouth to respond-

“Please put your hands together for Ladybug!”

Marinette pushes herself up, might as well get this over with. All eyes were on her as she made it up on the stage. Music started playing, and she couldn’t help but smile, she could work with this.

Nice to meet you, where you been?

I could show you incredible things

Magic, madness, heaven sin

Marinette scanned the room for a mark to look at; otherwise, her anxiety would kick in. Unfortunately, Alya was too far back that the darkness entrapped her. The second set of eyes she immediately latched onto were the familiar green eyes of her blonde company.

Saw you there and I thought

Oh my God, look at that face

You look like my next mistake

Love’s a game, want to play?

The smirk on the blond’s lips edged her on and gave her more confidence on the stage.

I'm dying to see how this one ends Grab your passport and my hand I can make the bad guys good for a weekend

All her nerves started the fade, and she began to work the stage. Dare she say this was- fun? So it's gonna be forever Or it's gonna go down in flames You can tell me when it's over If the high was worth the pain Got a long list of ex-lovers They'll tell you I'm insane 'Cause you know I love the players And you love the game

Marinette knew the song well enough that she could play to the strengths of the crowd. There was a bet to win after all. Not that she wouldn’t mind going out with the guy, he seemed nice enough, and handsome to boot.

Towards the end of the song, Marinette was sure that by the hoots and hollers she gained that not only was her performance enough to make her a shoo-in for the sorority, but also win the bet.

Her beaming smile could not be dampened as she settled back into her seat.

“Not bad, but I think I still have a chance,” he coolly replied. “Besides, you got the words wrong.”

What? Marinette had heard the song enough from Alya, and if she did need help, then the words were plastered on the screen.

“No, I didn’t.”

“I’ve heard that song before from one of my friends, and it definitely mentions Starbucks in it.”

Marinette could only blink in response; he had to be wrong. The mention of the coffee joint would make no sense in the context of the song.

She opened her mouth to correct him-

“Next up we have, Chat Noir!” The announcer’s voice boomed.

What a weird name. Who would name themselves after a black cat? Marinette’s question was answered when the blonde stood up from his seat.

“Hold that thought.” He winked, “I’ll be right Bach.”

Marinette’s eyes followed him up onto the stage. He certainly had the charisma to win; she could hear the gushing from the other tables almost instantly.

“Hey everyone, I’m Chat Noir of Sigma Thêta Pi. And I’d like to dedicate this song to the beautiful lady that has kept me company all evening.” His words were paired with a wink.

She slipped down a little as some darted heated gazes prickled her skin. But what caused further damage was the intense green stare coming from cat boy on the stage; it rendered her cheeks heated and colored. He only broke contact for a second to nod to the DJ to cue the music.

Hey, I was doing just fine before I met you

I drink too much and that's an issue but I'm okay

Hey, you tell your friends it was nice to meet them

But I hope I never see them again

His lips broke out into the biggest smile as he took over the stage and made it his own. But no matter what he did, his eyes met hers every couple of seconds.

So baby pull me closer in the backseat of your Rover

That I know you can't afford

Bite that tattoo on your shoulder

Pull the sheets right off the corner

Of the mattress that you stole

From your roommate back in Boulder

We ain't ever getting older

He started to pull off some dance moves, and the crowd went wild.

He had said that they pulled this song randomly out of a hat; what were the chances that it was one of her favorite songs at one point. The longer the thought lingered, the more she remembered that the song was a duet.

Her head shot up to find his eyes on her, and she knew what was about to happen. In a blink of an eye, he grabbed the other mic and jumped off the stage mid-performance.

He wasted no time making his way to her table and held out his hand. If she stood, then she would be relaying a message to not only her partner but a crowded bar. Her feet found their footing, and she grabbed the extra mic from his hands in time to start singing in sync with the highlighted words.

You look as good as the day I met you

I forget just why I left you, I was insane

Marinette’s lips split into a smile as she turned her head back to look at him while walking to the stage. What she didn’t expect was Chat to brush past her to help her up on stage. The strength he used to pull her up, Marinette tried not to yelp. A wave of cheers escaped the crowd, and the realization hit her; they were eating up whatever was between them.  

Stay and play that Blink-182 song

That we beat to death in Tucson, okay

She circled Chat Noir, allowing her fingers to graze over the fabric of his hoodie. When she crossed to the other side, his green eyes immediately snapped to hers and caused warmth to twist inside her chest.

The rest of the song they fell into sync, mirroring a countermove to their partner. People would have a hard time believing they only met today, Marinette mused. She could hardly believe it herself.

They ended the song facing each other eyes locked. Marinette found herself breathless, but only time would tell if that was the result of the performance or the stranger. The cheers were muted as Chat Noir reached out to push some hair back into its place.

“Thank you for singing with me,” he mumbled, allowing his hands to linger longer necessary, not that Marinette minded.

“You’re welcome, Kitty.”

They made their way back to their seats, everything the announcer said lost on them.

“You know,” he purred, “I’m pretty sure I won our little bet.”

Marinette’s mouth dropped open to argue, but remember that they never said their performance had to be a solo one. He had her there. She reached into her purse to pull out a pen. Grabbing his hand, she scrolled several numbers on it.

“My number, text me tomorrow, and we can set something up.” Although, in theory, she would love to go somewhere now, time had slipped away from her, and it was already past midnight. She had a study session in the morning she couldn’t miss.

“How do I know this isn’t some wrong number?” He argued.

Marinette leaned in close enough that a kiss was inches away. “I guess you’re going to have to trust me, Minou.”  She shot up from her seat purse in hand, winked, and then made a beeline for Alya.

“Time to go,” she grabbed her hand and tugged her away from a prolonged goodbye kiss.

Once they reached the outside, Marinette’s head stopped spinning. She turned her head back to see Chat Noir, still staring at her. The two exchanged smiles before Alya hailed a cab.

“So I want details with you and lover boy,” immediately spilled out of her best friends mouth and Marinette felt the heat rise to her cheeks.

“I gave him my number, and he’s going to text me and figure out when we can meet up.”

Alya’s fangirled giggles drowned to the sound of her cell phone buzzing.

Unknown: I couldn’t wait until tomorrow to text you. Sweet dreams, I know I will; revolving around Ladybugs.  

Marinette tapped her phone to her lips, thinking of a reply.

Marinette: You sure are confident, how do I know you don’t say that to all the Ladybugs you meet?

Unknown: You caught me. But in my defense, you’re the only Ladybug I’ve met ;) Her smile widened.

Marinette: Fair enough. Meet me at the Starbucks on 13 Boulevard Saint-Michel at 11 am where I can inform you proper lyrics of Blank Space.

It took seconds for a response.

Unknown: it’s a date, My Lady.

A blush stained her cheeks with color as she shoved the phone in her pocket and turned her attention back to her best friend. If this was how they bantered after a first meeting, who knows what will happen. She realized that she had never got his real name, but if she texted him now, they would talk all night. It would have to wait until tomorrow. His last text flashed in her mind again, causing her stomach to tie itself in knots.

Dumb Cat.

[theepitomeofamess]

Strictly for Convenience pt. 7

word count: 1883

previous: 1 2 3 4 5 6

ao3 link

taglist: @shattered-raine @insert-epic-blogger-name-here @ilylogan @reallyanextrovertipromise @ladynightmare12 @allsortsofgeekery @awkwardangie410 @th3okamid3mon @shattereddreamsamongotherthings @februaryfan @izlaria @keeshy-ekho @a-ghosts @virge-of-a-breakdown @doepuffsss @lyre-lyre-numb-desire @vexation-virgil @detective-lemon @nightwhisker17 @shadycomputerduck @randomfanderfriend @ab-artist @penguinkool @another-sandersidesblog @iamdefinitelynotanalien @spectralheartt @aroundofaceapplesauce @downrightdanny @rainfallen9

(fluffy update fluffy update fluffy update)

i guess... here ya go!

Patton got up early the next morning to walk into town. He’d always been one to get up earlier than most - of course, he’d only ever really had his insomniac brothers to compare to, but that didn’t change that he was one of the only people he knew that could manage to find joy in mornings. Sunrises colored quietly with baby blue skies and pastel pink clouds sweet enough that he could almost taste sugar, light not hesitating to step in as night ended its shift. Birds greeted the day, their melodic solos melding seamlessly with the steady chant of night’s remaining choir of crickets. The air was cleansed of the previous day’s madness, easier to breathe in a way, and the ground was washed with dew. Most everybody he passed was quiet - whether it was because they disliked mornings or they were enjoying the quiet the way he was, he couldn’t quite tell and he didn’t quite care.

Patton remembered going by the shop the day before on their walk through town - Logan had briefly praised it as one of the best places to get tailor-made suits in the country just before they’d run into Brian. That would probably be the best place to get a suitable cane.

The manager - who was either more of a morning person than Patton or had already had four cups of coffee - almost immediately latched himself onto Patton in an attempt to help him find what he was looking for. Obviously the entrepreneurial type, he didn’t seem to hear anything that Patton said about just wanting something simple. He tried to give him a cherry wood stick with gold filigree throughout, a rosewood one with floral carving all the way down, one with a detailed gold handle shaped into the head of a snake that Patton couldn’t help but think that, if it had more of a smile and its tongue sticking out, it might look like Dexter. For every cane that Patton didn’t immediately shoot down, the guy tried to shove a hat and a pair of shoes into his arms.

The barrage didn’t stop until Patton spotted an option that hadn’t been presented. A sleek black stick that led to a simple ivory knob handle, finishing the line of the cane cleanly. On closer inspection, Patton found bluebells softly carved into the ivory. The sight made Patton smile, knowing that this was the one. It was the cheapest one in the store, somehow, and Patton knew that Logan would appreciate that if not the minimalist clean lines and exquisite carving.

The world was washed in pure daylight by the time Patton was strolling back up the drive to the house.

He was surprised but not disappointed to see Dexter lifting familiar bags onto the roof and back of a familiar black car, Denise and Henry standing by. As Patton approached, he caught Denise’s eye. She met him halfway, explaining to him that they’d been called away by friends and partners of Henry’s for a few months. Patton did his best to hide the relief in his eyes at Henry’s departure and the worry for Denise being alone with him, but he’d always been bad at hiding his feelings. Henry called her back to the car, Patton following close behind.

“It was nice to meet you, sir,” Patton grinned, holding out his hand to shake Henry’s. Henry only stared Patton down, knowing that the smile was passive aggressive.

“I wondered when I met you why your parents were so desperate to give you away,” he bit, his voice every silent killer to ever exist. “Now I don’t.” Patton took a deep breath against his faltering smile, forcing it to stay wide and pleasant and polite. He knew in the back of his head that the words would come back to haunt him - his mind loved to torture him like that - but he couldn’t allow himself to waver.

“Stay safe on your travels. Wouldn’t want the first time we meet to also be the last.” Reaching forward, Patton grabbed the man’s skeletal hand and shook it, gripping tightly enough that if the message hadn’t gotten through to him yet, it would now.

Releasing Henry’s hand, Patton kept his smile on as the two of them got in the car, waving after them down the drive until they were more or less gone.

“You are, quite honestly,” Dexter muttered as Patton finished waving the car away, “more of a man than I could ever be.” Patton chuckled at the comment.

“I doubt that, but okay.” The two of them started back into the house, Patton returning his focus to the long rectangular box tucked under his arm.

“No, seriously,” Dexter insisted, “you’re wonderful. If you weren’t chained to Logan’s side, I might try to have you at mine.” Patton wasn’t sure what to make of that comment, so he chuckled.

“Well, he won’t try to stop you from trying to take me,” he sighed after a moment. “He’s still convinced that I’m going to try and cut and run.”

“And you’re not?” Patton shrugged.

“Let’s just… let’s just say for the moment,” he couldn’t think of how to phrase it right, “I don’t think that we should end a deal that seems to be…” he gestured generally with his hand, “beneficial to both parties. At least, not without good reason, you know? So, for now…” A laugh escaped from low in Dexter’s throat.

“Remind me to teach you how to lie one of these days.” Dexter’s hand brushed the middle of Patton’s back, pushing him closer to the door to the library. “Now go give your boy your present.”

“It’s not a-” Patton cut himself off when he saw that Dexter was already halfway up the stairs, sighing at the echo of his quiet laughter. Stepping into the library, Patton felt himself smile at the way the sunlight flooded into the room, a beam landing perfectly on Logan from the window behind his desk. The light reflected slightly off his glasses, bounced off of his hair to reveal natural hints of red in the dark brown. His lip was even redder - he’d been picking at it again. Patton swallowed against the pounding of his heart in his throat, wondering why it felt so weird to walk all of a sudden, why it felt like his knees couldn’t quite hold him up.

“Oh, good,” Logan said, looking over his shoulder from where he sat at his desk. ���You got a letter from Virgil.” Logan held the envelope out to Patton from where he sat. Patton smiled at the envelope as he took it. Hearing from Virgil always seemed to center things.

“It’s probably an invitation to Roman’s birthday party. We always make a big thing of it because - well, because it’s Roman. He might be asking for some extra help with preparations. But first,” Patton stuck the letter in his back pocket, setting the long box on the desk in front of Logan.

“You didn’t,” Logan sighed, side-eyeing Patton with a slight frown.

“Like I said, you got me something that I needed, and I’m returning the favor. Now come on, open it!” Logan sighed, running his hand over the box.

“Tell me you didn’t actually get it from there,” he groaned quietly. “They’re so overpriced and extravagant with things that-” Logan froze once the lid was removed, staring down at the cane. Patton raised his hands, clasping them in front of his chest and bouncing on the balls of his feet in anticipation. Logan lifted the cane from the box, examining it carefully, stopping for a long moment to run his fingers over the ivory bluebells.

“Well,” Patton asked quietly.

“You really shouldn’t have.” Logan stood, testing the height and durability of the cane. It was perfect in every way.

“You can keep saying that, but it won’t change anything. There’s nothing you cane do about it now.” Patton smiled, tapping the cane lightly with his finger. The way that Logan could only screw his eyes shut and sigh made Patton giggle.

“In all seriousness,” Logan brought himself back after momentarily ascending from reality because of how bad Patton’s wordplay was, “thank you. I really don’t know what to say.”

“There’s nothing to say. My gift to you.” Patton started to turn away, reaching for the letter in his pocket.

“Patton?” Turning back to Logan, Patton noticed that his head was slightly bowed, his fingers at his lip, scraping at the skin again. “Would you mind if… that is, would you be comfortable…” looking up to meet Patton’s eyes, Logan exhaled sharply, before opening his arm, a gesture that Patton recognized from the first time that Virgil had asked for a hug. Smiling softly, he wrapped his arms around Logan’s middle, pressing himself close as Logan’s arm pulled around his shoulders.

He hadn’t expected the embrace to be so warm, for Logan to hold him so tightly. He hadn’t expected for it to be so comfortable - he’d hugged Logan once or twice before, but it was never like this. Logan had never hugged him back, arm braced around his shoulders and cheek pressed into his hair. He hadn’t expected to inhale deeply and find himself intoxicated with the scent of coffee and ink embedded in his jacket, along with something that he didn’t quite recognize as anything but Logan. He hadn’t expected to adore the feeling of Logan turning his head, pressing his face into his hair.

“Thanks,” Logan started to pull away. “I should- woah, are you okay?” Patton blinked up, realizing only then that his cheeks were lined with tear tracks.

“Yeah,” he assured, wiping his face with his palm. “Yeah, I just… I guess I’m used to being around Roman. He’s all hugs all the time, and I guess… I guess I just didn’t realize how much I missed it.”

“Well,” Logan swiped another tear from Patton’s cheek with his thumb, “if you ever want… you know… more, just let me know. That’s what partners are for, right?” Logan’s struggle to string the words together made Patton giggle.

“Yeah.” Logan smiled softly, hand lingering at Patton’s cheek after wiping the tear away.

“I, um,” Logan cleared his throat after a moment too long, “I should get back to work.” Patton nodded quietly.

Before Logan had the chance to get away, Patton relinquished a bit of his control. Reaching up, he cupped Logan’s face in his palm, pressing his lips to his cheek. Grinning at Logan’s stunned blinking, Patton left him to his work.

Patton had no idea where he’d gotten the confidence to do that. He had no idea why he’d done it, he couldn’t reason in his head why or how he’d lost control of the urge. He had no idea why, as he held Virgil’s letter, he could still feel Logan’s cheek in his hand. He couldn’t figure out why he could still feel Logan’s arm around him, embracing him, and his thumb brushing lightly at his cheek to rid it of a tear. He couldn’t understand why every time he blinked, he saw those glittering onyx eyes and that uncertain but beautiful smile.

He wasn’t about to complain, though. He didn’t need to understand the feelings in order to enjoy them.

[comicteaparty]

May 13th-May 19th, 2019 CTP Archive

The archive for the Comic Tea Party week long chat that occurred from May 13th, 2019 to May 19th, 2019.  The chat focused on Damsels Don’t Wear Glasses by J Alice Bown.

Featured Comment:

Chat:

RebelVampire

COMIC TEA PARTY- WEEK LONG BOOK CLUB START!

Hello and welcome everyone to Comic Tea Party’s Week Long Book Club~! This week we’ll be focusing on Damsels Don’t Wear Glasses by J Alice Bown~! (http://damsels-dont-wear-glasses.com/)

You are free to read and comment about the comic all week at your own pace, so stop on by whenever it suits your schedule! Remember, though, that while we allow constructive criticism, our focus is to have fun and appreciate the comic. Below you will find four questions to get you started on the discussion. However, a new question will be posted and pinned everyday (between 12:01AM and 6AM PDT), so keep checking back for more! You have until May 19th to tell us all your wonderful thoughts! With that established, let’s get going on the reading and the chatting!

QUESTION 1. What has been your favorite scene in the comic so far? What specifically did you like about it?

QUESTION 2. In so far, what aspect of the world-building catches your interest the most? Why is that so? Also, what theories do you have in regards to differences between places like Persephone and Hestia?

Delphina

For serious scenes, I think I gotta go with the big swordy magic scene where she saves Jake from being crushed by the statue (http://damsels-dont-wear-glasses.com/?comic_id=202) because the lighting effects are gorgeous and seeing Lave doing big magic stuff with her sword was really really cool. For silly scenes, the one that always sticks with me is Lave trying to be a host and failing miserably. (http://damsels-dont-wear-glasses.com/?comic_id=123)

keii4ii

2) I really liked this page. http://damsels-dont-wear-glasses.com/index.php?comic=20180423 How she just asks a random person on the street for a magic shortcut and gets an answer right away. While it's always been clear that magic is an ordinary thing, this kind of little details really shows exactly how ordinary.

Capitania do Azar

I really like the prologue, particularly the part where they climb the lamppost. There's just so much character into the entire scene, and the exchanges are really cool. It's a very strong beginning for a story too, imo!!

2) http://damsels-dont-wear-glasses.com/index.php?comic=20130423 I really think this part has a lot to show about world building like, here's this weird magical event going on, but everyone is just "I was just trying to show you something cool urg" and "well this ain't it"

duskglass

for the worldbuilding, i especially love the variety of creatures/nonhumans we've seen so far, and how well integrated they are with the setting! it's got a classic urban fantasy vibe while also being very fresh and unique

RebelVampire

QUESTION 3. At the moment, who is your favorite character? What about that character earns them this favor?

QUESTION 4. What do you think Lave’s backstory is? Do you think she got all her scars from her job, or might some of them predate her job somehow? How do you think Jake will change the way Lave handles and deals with her life?

ClauseArt

heeey I just saw this! This is my comic! Thanks for taking the time to read it! c8

RebelVampire

1) i definitely gotta go with the scene where jake is in dream world like place with aishe. I really love how this scene just suddenly adds 1000 layers of mystery. Plus, i really just love the change in color scheme. It really gives it this other worldly feel that gives me goosebumps. Plus, I also just like Aishe's design. 2) I've really been enjoying the differences in magic. Like, for example, how most zombies actually suck cause ya know...theyre dead. I feel this adds such a great twist what we expect, cause every change I feel fits a more logical setup for what the magic does. Again, like how the zombie thing makes 1000% sense cause dead bodies are not the sturdiest. I am curious about why Lave had such a reaction to Hestia magic schools, but I don't have any theories outside of magic must be viewed very differently in places.

3) Kestrel because he's such a precious failure at life. Like...he just cannot catch a break and for some reason that makes him super endearing to me. Plus now hes got the whole aishe connection thing going on so that makes him double interesting. But mostly I want to boop him for all his failures. 4) I would think some of her scares would have to predate her job. Cause she's...she's got a lot of them. And considering she mentioned having been in jail, I'm kind of struck with the idea that maybe she ran with a gang or something. She super gives me the impression of someone who mostly raised herself and didnt have a huge loving family involved in teaching her how to deal with life. I think Jake will be a good influence on her though and teach her to be more careful. Cause she seems very fun loving and reckless, and while that can work when youre solo, its not great when you have other ppl. Like i think the Kestrel thing was a good example cause I felt Lave perhaps was too loose cannon with it, which semi resulted in Kestrel almost kicking the bucket. And Jake is like 1000 times more fragile, and I think it'll force Lave to see that she cant protect anybody if she goes around without a plan.

ClauseArt

@Capitania do Azar that scene with Kest and lave interacting around the lamp-post was actually the moment I decided Kest worked well as a main character. He was honestly going to die in the original draft. @keii4ii thanks! I super love just....the mundane feeling of everyday magic. @Delphina Honestly Lave just being a f--k up is probably my fav part of writing her character, especially for comedic effect XD Next to drawing glowy magic scenes of course.(edited)

@RebelVampire Oh wow this is a lot. Thank you! ;-; dammit I really can't respond to these kind of questions cus spoilers. But I'm glad you noticed a lot of my characters having...well a habit of messing up (and Lave did not handle that first chap well cough) XD Also Aishe is my fav character to draw, because Kest is my fav character to draw only its + because glowy effects. I do really like when more real world logic is put in fantasy, like corpses making for bad heavy hitters unless they're in a swarm. So I'm super glad you liked that!

Capitania do Azar

4. If Lave's style has always been what we've seen so far, then all those scars don't surprise me at all! They'd be the natural consequence of past encounters, work related or otherwise. It just kinda feels that everything ends with someone getting punched around her

3. I've really liked pretty much everyone, but I think Lave's my favorite cuz she's sturdy but messy and I feel there's a lot to be learned about her aha

And also she prolly also has a lot to learn

RebelVampire

QUESTION 5. What has been your favorite illustration in the comic so far? What specifically about it do you like?

QUESTION 6. Why do you think Jake is in Persephone with no guardian? What theories do you have on Jake’s hatred of non-humans? Will Jake be able to overcome his prejudice?

Capitania do Azar

6. Jake feels a lot like is somebody important's family but important could mean a lot of things. And has for his discomfort, I think it mostly stems from not knowing/being used to all this magic, which gives me the idea that some of these cities are less magical than others

5. Not an illustration, but I really love how in the last pages, as the sun rises, the colors become brighter and the sky becomes pink!!

It really helps bringing home the feeling that the night is over and the quietness of early morning, which is kinda fitting since they also stopped fighting

Delphina

I think I gotta go with Lave as my favorite character too because competent + ridiculous + magical +swordy is my entire jam so she's sorta the best of all worlds. Gena holds a special place in my heart too because she's clearly trying to keep a lot of things together.

Illustration-wise, I love how things like Jake's anxiety (http://damsels-dont-wear-glasses.com/?comic_id=198) or Chirovision (http://damsels-dont-wear-glasses.com/?comic_id=237) or Aisheland (http://damsels-dont-wear-glasses.com/?comic_id=225) traveling through magic spaces (http://damsels-dont-wear-glasses.com/index.php?comic=20170501) make the palette and rendering different depending on the mood. Really good use of a more abstract style to convey tone and worldbuilding.

(Now I want there to be a DDWG theme park where there's weird places like Aisheland)

varethane

Lave is my fave!!!! I love her goofy attitude paired with how much butt she kicks when it's necessary. I love seeing people underestimate her and then get surprised, haha.(edited)

My favourite illustration is.... hard to pick, but probably this page: http://damsels-dont-wear-glasses.com/?comic_id=206

Capitania do Azar

oh yeah, I really love the color work for those scenes, it carries out the emotions very well

RebelVampire

QUESTION 7. Which characters do you enjoy seeing interact the most? What about their dynamic interests you?

QUESTION 8. For what purpose do you think someone sold Kestrel the cursed orb? How does this tie into the axe theft mystery Lave is asked to solve? What overall is going on regarding these illegal items, and how will it tie into the story?

Capitania do Azar

7. Anything that comes out of Kestrel's mouth is gold, but when he and Lave bicker it's even better!!!

Please just let them bicker more for my amusement

8. It really feels like someone's around trying to spread SOME mayhem and if one object was possessed then maybe it's not the only one... could be a tricky situation

Delphina

Will second that Lave and Kest definitely need to bicker more

RebelVampire

5) im kind of cheating by saying i really like the extra page about the leylines http://damsels-dont-wear-glasses.com/index.php?comic=20160620 its really simplistic yet i think the illustrations work super well to help convey all the world-building information. its just a nice combo of huge info drop with some pleasant visual accompaniment 6) I assume Jake is probably an orphan from some important family? Or that Jake's family is super high up in rank somehow and just went "nah man we dont want this kid no more." while i def think some of jake's hate comes from ignorance, i also get the impression that jake had a bad experience with non-humans. something about jake's reactions just really strike me as ptsd. overall yeah, i think jake is gonna have to overcome it. plus, exposure breeds familiarity. its hard to be in the lion's den and continue to hate the lions.

7) jake and basically any non-human. I really just enjoy seeing jake's various reactions of "eww no" and then having to be confronted with the fact that not all non-humans are bad. It just makes me more and more curious about jake's past. plus, all these interactions really serve as a great tracking devices for how jake evolves in opinion. 8) With Kestrel, I kind of think someone is trying to draw Aishe out. I mean Aishe does have pretty neat butterflies and powers, so I can't blame them. Though I assume its a revenge thing cause I get the impression ppl arent all that happy with Aishe. But thus why other illegal items are being involved because you need powerful stuff to get to the powerful people.

Desnik

That leyline page is gorgeous and informative, I love the combo of worldbuilding and infographics

RebelVampire

QUESTION 9. What sorts of art or story details have you noticed in the way the comic is crafted that you think deserves attention?

QUESTION 10. Who exactly is Aishe and what are their goals? What does this have to do with the undead from the first chapter? Why did Aishe help Jake? What will Lave do when she learns about Aishe?

RebelVampire

QUESTION 11. What do you think are this particular comic’s strengths? What do you think makes this comic unique? Please elaborate.

QUESTION 12. What do you think the story with Chiro is? How did he wind up as Lave’s roommate? Will Chiro and Jake learn to get along? Also, do you think there might be anything special about Chiro that might affect the story?

AshAngelV

6. I think he's come from an entirely different world that doesn't have non humans and magic.

AshAngelV

11. The world building and color scheme are definitely strong points. It feels fully fleshed out and magical, but also very grounded like it's this amazing magical place that's also totally normal. Also, the characters. Having a bunch of flawed characters with baggage is always more interesting than having perfect characters with no problems and even the bit characters feel dynamic. Like they have their own story and interests rather than being part of the scenery exsisting only for the MCs to interact with.

RebelVampire

9) The thing I appreciate the most details wise is just the physical flaws. Especially Lave's scars. Adding details like that can be really tedious, yet it really helps deliver so much character that I always enjoy when the time is taken to include things like that. 10) I feel like Aishe is probably some necromancer from the past who is trying to rectify a mistake that was made. I think Aishe helped for the reason they said: Jake did a kindness and gotta pay that shit forward. I feel like Lave is 100% not going to trust aishe and basically just encourage everyone to do the same. Maybe suggest Kestral seek professional help. But yeah, I don't see a green butterfly person flying with Lave XD 11) I think this comic's strengths lie in two areas. First, the implementation of magic. There are clear rules, there's enough deviations from the standard to be interesting, and the fact its presented as a normal culture thing is well-integrated. second, the color palettes are really amazing and suit the tone and atmosphere of each scene really well. 12) I feel like Chiro might be a bit special since that one person did wonder what species Chiro was or something like that. And that because of this specialness Chiro was outcasted. Hence why he wound up with Lave cause ya know, outcasts gotta stick together. I think Chiro and Jake will bond for sure down the road. Cause i mean Chiro did just help save Jake's butt, and thats gotta earn him some Jake points right?

AshAngelV

12. I think Chiro might be a vamp that just stays in bat form or maybe only has bat form.

RebelVampire

QUESTION 13. What are you most looking forward to in the comic? Also, do you have any final thoughts to share overall?

QUESTION 14. What do you think Kestrel’s role will be in regards to the larger story? Can Kestral and Aishe be detached from one another, or is the attachment permanent?

AshAngelV

14. I think he'll be the guy that's in a constant state of terror and peril. And I think the detaching will be up to Aishe.

ClauseArt

man its super hard not to chime in on these ahhh D8

Delphina

Rebel makes such good questions XDD

varethane

I am looking forward to several things! - what is Jake's deal and how is he linked to aishe -Lave's bite mark scar!!!! what is it!!!!!! -what will Kest do next -more Lave plz(edited)

RebelVampire

@Delphina thank you for saying so~!

13) im looking forward to more aishe doing aishe stuff just cause i dig that aesthetic a whole lot. im also looking forward to learning more about jake so more concrete theories can be made about wtf jake's deal is. and also why nobody else could take jake besides lave cause i mean seriously...theres gotta be more sane choices XD 14) Kest is gonna become a real mage and do magic stuff. also ya know, hide out with lave cause now the ppl he owes money too are probably gonna be out for blood. as for detaching...maybe not so much. i more feel like once Aishe is done with their tasks, their essence will just kind of disappear and merge with kest.

AshAngelV

Hang in there Clause.

ClauseArt

@AshAngelV I will try D8

I can at least promise a lot of these theories are gonna be answered sooner or later

RebelVampire

COMIC TEA PARTY- WEEK LONG BOOK CLUB END!

Thank you everyone so much for reading and chatting about Damsels Don’t Wear Glasses this week! Please also give a special thank you to J Alice Bown for volunteering the comic and creating it! If you liked Damsels Don’t Wear Glasses, make sure to continue to support it via some of the links below!

Read and Comment: http://damsels-dont-wear-glasses.com/

J Alice’s Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/JAliceBown

J Alice’s Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/A732E2D

J Alice’s Twitter: https://twitter.com/AlicesBrainPad/

[foryourlifefic-blog]

Chapter 6 (Part 1)

By the time I had finished getting ready it was about time for Jimmy to come pick me up.

I still has extra time so I decided to go to the kitchen to make a drink so I could get a little loose before the event even started.

“Look at you!” Matt hollers coming out of his room with Cameron.

“You look gorgeous!” She says “I love your dress.”

“Thank you” I blush.

The dress I was wearing was the color of champagne with a slit coming up along the side. There was also a deep V neck that was lined with lace.

I had done subtle makeup with a bold eyeliner and soft pink lips, my hair was curled at the ends which was the way it usually was anyway.

“It was a gift” I say “from my mom long ago, just now getting the chance to wear it.”

“Well she has beautiful taste” Cameron compliments.

“I’ll let her know” I say sipping the old fashioned that I had made “I haven’t seen you guys since this morning what have you done all day?”

“Oh you know” Matt says winking.

“Good god” I say “have you eaten food or anything?”

“Nope!” He says “which is exactly the mission we are on. That and to go back to Cameron’s apartment and get her some clothes to bring back here.”

“Moving in?” I ask.

“Not quiet” she laughs “we’ve only known each other a day, but we’ve had a lot of fun so I figure why not hang out another day.”

“Well you’re always welcome.” I say “we need a place with more rooms, this one only has 3 and there is 4 of us.”

“How did you and Kenny end up sharing the room together?” Cameron asks.

“We gambled and we lost” Matt says “plus these girls have way more crap than we do.”

“True” I huff.

“I might make Kenny move into another room though, now that your around.” Matt says seductively.

“Oh brother.” I roll my eyes “Well it’s not gonna be mine, my name is on the lease so I can kick all of you guys out.”

“You wouldn’t” Matt laughs.

“Try me” I say taking another sip of my drink.

“So what are your plans for tonight?” Cameron asks.

“Yeah why are you so dressed up?” Matt retorts.

“Well I have an important event to attend with a Mr. Jimmy Page.” I say.

“Your still seeing him?” Cameron asks.

“To my dismay... what can I say he insists.”

“Did you just meet him yesterday?” She asks.

“Last night” I reply.

“Oh man when I slept with him it was only once-“ Cameron begins but is cut off by Matt “what!”

“Yeah what?” I cough.

“Did I not mention that?” She says.

“Uh no” I say still surprised.

“It was years ago” she says “look they always come back to the same crowd when they are here, I was with my friends at the rainbow lounge and Led Zeppelin showed up. He saw me, he liked me, and asked me to his room.”

“Wait so... what!” I ask.

“We slept together and then the next morning we said our goodbyes... look all I’m saying is that your lucky he is still pursuing you, I mean that genuinely.”

“Well the event tonight is business... mostly.” I stutter.

“I bet he likes you” she smirks.

Meanwhile Matt was still dumbfound, Cameron realizes this and turns to him “your not mad baby are you?”

He gulps “I mean I guess not, free love and everything. I’m just a bit taken off guard.”

“Me too.” I say “and about him liking me we shall see, he asked me to be his girlfriend for the week but who the hell knows what that means.”

She raises her eyebrows “oh you know.”

“Do I though?” I chuckle.

Ding! we hear the doorbell.

“Oh shit I haven’t put on my shoes yet! Matt get the door!” I say running to my room to put my shoes on.

I was sitting on my bed when I heard him open the door “Jimmy! Always a pleasure!” Matt says and I hear them shake hands.

“You as well” Jimmy says in a soft spoken voice “is the lady of the hour ready?”

“Right here” I say stepping out of my room.

His eyes begin to widen as he gives me a soft hug his hands reaching down my waist.

“You look breath taking” He says into my ears causing me to blush.

“And you as well” I say gushing over his silver suit jacket and green button up. He had his Zoso sign pinned to his collar so everyone could see it.

“Where’s this from?” I ask stroking my thumb over the gold pin.

“I had it hand made.” He smirks “shall we.”

“Yes” I say grabbing my purse from the table beside me.

“Alright don’t have too much fun you two.” Matt says walking us out.

Jimmy laughs “it’s not that kind of party, but who knows about later in the evening.”

“Don’t wanna know.” Matt laughs. “Keep in touch Lil!”

“Oh I will” I say looking back at him as Cameron came and put her arms around him.

“Make good choices!” She yelled

“Okay!” I laugh at them acting like my parents as Jimmy opened the car door for me.

“Thank you sir!” I say slipping in.

“Not a problem” he says closing the door then getting in on the other side.

He told the driver the directions then closed the gap between him and us.

“So did you figure out what you were dealing with this morning?” I ask him.

“Just about” Jimmy says “we have all these producers trying to give us an unfair cut, and our label is trying to make us release singles which I absolutely will not do.”

“Is that because the radio will shorten the songs and you get held down while trying to make an album.” I say.

“Exactly!” He says “someone who finally understands.”

I laugh “Well I know a few things about that.”

“There’s just a lot of bastards out there trying to milk the industry, meanwhile we are doing a majority of the work. I’m strongly considering creating my own label.” He says.

“You should do it” I say “and let my band use your platform as well, I hate those people as much as you do.”

He laughs “that’s the dream”

“Tell me about it. Mark my words we would be a lot bigger if we hadn’t signed on to these sour deals.”

“I believe you my dear.” He says “I don’t know why people have such a problem with rock bands wanting to dabble in acoustic music, it’s only the balled version after all.”

“Are you talking about Led Zeppelin III?” I chuckle.

“The media’s response to it was just ridiculous.” He says.

“I agree, especially since we do a lot of balled tracks as well, Led Zeppelin III is actually my favorite album.”

“Really?” He asks.

“Oh yeah it’s totally underrated.” I say “but that’s just my opinion.”

“Tell me why is it your favorite?” He asks.

“Well it’s the complete package.” I say “it has the acoustic balled tracks but it also just has songs that rock you know? Out on the Tiles is amazing and Tangerine and That’s the Way are just fucking lovely and relaxing and just uplifting. Then there’s Since I’ve Been Loving You and let me tell you Jimmy every time I hear that song... it feels like I’m fucking melting.”

He smirks “How do you mean love?”

“I mean it’s definitely one of my favorites, just your solos-when you play it’s like I can hear you speaking to me... I listened to it on LSD once and holy shit it was like I was feeling brand new feelings. I can’t really describe it, the song is-just truly magical.”

“I really don’t know what to say to that.” He says “except thank you, I don’t think I have ever heard it described that way.”

“Well everyone is different, and your welcome.” I smile.

The car came to a stop and I knew we had arrived.

Once we had gotten out of the car Jimmy tipped the driver and bid him farewell.

“Wait don’t you need to tell him when to pick us up again?” He shakes his head “no, because a limo is going to take the rest of the band out to Rodney’s after this. Can’t be subjugated too long.”

“God forbid Led Zeppelin show restraint.” I chuckle.

“Carful darling” He says opening the door for me “more smart remarks like that and I’ll have you over my knee.”

I laugh it off slightly surprised he would say something like that, considering he usually has a kind exterior.

He put his around my waist and growled in my ear “You look like a gypsy tonight darling, I want nothing more than to eat you up.”

I became weak in the knees thankful that his arms were around me keeping me up.

“And eat me you shall.” I whisper in his ear as we entered the premises.

[noorakardemmomesaetre]

I’m Sorry, What? 

Chapter Two, Jughead’s POV 

Read Me On Ao3

Pairing: Betty Cooper x Jughead Jones

Summary: Jughead Jones’ massive crush on Northside Princess, Betty Cooper, has him a bit…distracted.

note: hi babes! the response to Betty's POV of I'm Sorry...What? absolutely blew me away and I appreciate every comment, kudos, like, reblog, everything so so much! ❤ 

this is Jughead's POV of the same week. Enjoy!

Monday, 8:57AM

Nothing reminds Jughead that he is in desperate need of a haircut like her sitting almost directly behind him in their AP Geography class.

He’s pinching a point of his worn crown beanie, rolling it lazily between his fingers, as she walks by him, gripping her pastel pink binder to her chest before sliding into her seat.

His hand falls to the back of his neck, needing to ease his nerves as class begins, but he immediately feels his dark wild curls peaking out from beneath his beanie and his cheeks redden.

You need a haircut, boy.

He’d rolled his eyes at his father’s remark last weekend, but now that he can hear her scribbling away in her notebook, he’s hyper aware of how right his father may be.

Maybe she likes long hair? It’s not like it’s that long, his hand drops and he takes up tapping his pen lightly against his notebook as his mind wanders, no, she’s definitely not into long hair, that’s why she’s always with that Andrews guy.

He attempts to tune into the mountainous landscapes their teacher is droning on about, his fingers absentmindedly raising back to the crown point on his beanie.

But maybe she could be into long hair? A small smile plays on his face as he thinks about the far-fetched possibility of her running her fingers through his hair, playfully tugging on the curl at the base of his neck as they kiss, yanking a bit harder when things get a bit more heated...

“Jughead? Hello, I need a pen? Jughead?” Ethel is whispering to him, wiggling her fingers near his face to grasp his attention.

“Shit, sorry! What?”

Tuesday, 2:57PM

“I expect nothing less than perfection from the squad,” Cheryl is saying as her, Toni, and Jughead head out to the parking lot, “I can’t help that you’re the only person who meets my standards.”

His hands are shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket, their conversation fading as he glances around the parking lot. His motorcycle remains untouched in its usual spot and he’s about to tell them he’ll see them tomorrow when her name catches his attention.

“...Betty has really been improving and I think you just need to ease up on her a bit, babe,” Toni is saying, squeezing Cheryl’s hand affectionately.

“Betty’s a cheerleader?”

They stop in the middle of the parking lot as Cheryl arches an eyebrow in his direction and Toni smiles at him, curiosity coloring her gaze.

“She’s basically a cheerleader trainee, but yes, she’s a River Vixen-”

“Why do you ask? I didn’t know you knew Betty Cooper,” Toni interrupts her girlfriend and immediately Jughead wishes he had simply said his goodbyes and headed home. His cheeks are pink as he glances wearily between them and shrugs, adjusting his jacket like metaphorical shield.

“Yeah, she’s in my geography class or something,” he quickly says, wondering where the hell Pea is when he needs him as he rubs the back of his neck, “anyone else I know on the squad?”

Nice save.  

“I really don’t have time to relay the roster to you, Jughead,” Cheryl snaps, turning to place a soft kiss on Toni’s temple before smiling sweetly at him, “but I’m sure Toni will fill you in.”

She turns to walk to her car and he tries to avoid Toni’s stare as the flush in his cheeks only deepens.

“Well, I’ll see you later too-”

“Ohmygod,” she breathes, giggling once Cheryl is out of earshot, “you like Betty Cooper!”

He tugs on his beanie, shaking his head as a nervous chuckle escapes him, “uh...no...what?”

Wednesday, 7:42PM

Large pile of hot, freshly salted fries. Cheeseburger, double cheese, with the works. Extra chocolate milkshake with a cherry perfectly perched atop of swirl of whipped cream.

He literally could not be more excited about the meal in front of him, taking a moment to appreciate Pop for all of the good he’s done in this world just by simply existing…and, of course,  bringing this plate of food out.

“I will never understand how you can put away all that food and still be able to fit into any of your clothes,” Jellybean teases, dipping her fry into her vanilla milkshake a few times.

“I was born with a gift, JB, it would be a shame for me not to put it to good use,” he grins in return, taking a huge bite out of the cheeseburger, ketchup dripping onto his chin.

It’s then that he hears her giggle as she slips into the booth in front of him, hugging Veronica Lodge, who is seated next to the window on the bench seat they’ll share. There’s a frosty strawberry shake sitting in front of Betty, having already been ordered by her friends.

Her finger slips into the whipped cream before she steals an apprehensive glance at the other girls, who are currently looking at pictures on Veronica’s phone, and pops her finger into her mouth.

Her lips wrap around it in a perfect “o” as she sucks the whipped cream off and Jughead’s mind is nowhere near Pop’s Diner anymore. He’s back in the darkness of his trailer and her mouth, illuminated by the light of the moon, is wrapped around something a bit larger than her finger.

He groans inwardly, glancing down at the burger still gripped tightly between his fingers dripping ketchup onto his plate, in sheer disbelief at how immediate he had turned into an average teenage Neanderthal.

“Jughead? Hi, it’s your sister, Jellybean. You probably don’t remember me since you seem to have landed on planet Betty Cooper, never to return again,” Jellybean giggles, rolling her eyes at his currently distraught state.

“Sorry, JB!” he shakes his head, grabbing a napkin to wipe the smear of bright red sauce from his chin, “wait, what?”

Thursday, 7:47AM

The aroma of vanilla with a hint of honey is so faint he almost doesn’t notice it.

But then it surrounds him like a warm, comforting blanket on a chilly evening and he can’t help but shift his gaze to where she’s just walked past him.

Sweet Pea is leaning against the locker in front of him, chattering away about an old bike he’d seen strewn carelessly on the side of the road earlier this morning, but Jughead’s focus is elsewhere and his words fall on deaf ears.

She’s stopped in the middle of the hallway, her books pressed against her chest and her ponytail swinging lightly behind her as she giggles at something her friend is saying.

He finds himself wondering what it is that makes her smile so brightly at such an ungodly hour in the morning. Not even the hottest, largest, highest caffeinated cup of coffee could get him to smile this early, that’s for sure.

She glances in his direction, a curious smile now tugging at the corners of her mouth and he quickly brings his focus back to Sweet Pea, attempting to ignore the heat rising in his cheeks.

“Jones?” Sweet Pea raises an eyebrow, a playful sigh escaping his lips as he shakes his head, “I seriously don’t know why I bother talking to you before noon, man.”

“Shit, sorry, what?”

Friday, 10:49PM

The last thing Jughead has planned for his weekend is a Riverdale Bulldog after party.

And yet here he is, casually walking into an already-in-full-swing celebration at Thornhill. It’s dark and the music is blaring, making him and his Serpent brothers unnoticeable as they walk towards the kitchen, but he still feels out of place.

Arms wrap around his neck in an overjoyed drunken hug and a small, relieved smile falls on his lips when he realizes it’s Toni.

“I’m so happy you came! Let me get you all drinks!”

She quickly hugs Fangs and Sweet Pea, leading them all into an empty, yet also dark and loud kitchen.

She’s thanking them profusely for supporting her and attending the game and he wants to tell her that of course they support her. No Serpent left behind.

But she has just walked into the kitchen, a red solo cup firmly in her grip, and when her eyes meet his, his breathing shallows.

She walks over to him, resting the cup on the table as she offers him another bright smile.

“Wow, a football game and an after party?” she says, tilting her head as she teases, “you’re almost more Friday Night Lights than me now.”

He looks down, trying to play off the grin on his face before he raises his eyes to meet hers once more. She’s wearing a River Vixen t-shirt and jeans and he really wants to tell her how beautiful she looks.

But his nerves get the best of him and he clears his throat, now noticing that his friends are long gone, leaving him alone with her.

“Want me to get you a drink?” he asks her, offering her a soft smile, “must be a little dehydrated after all of that cheering.”

“I thought I saw you out there watching me,” she tilts her head and smirks playfully, making him roll his eyes as his heart skips a beat.

“You’re hard to miss, Betts.”

He runs his tongue along his bottom lip before offering a small smile and the smile reflected on her face is so genuine he can almost hear his heart pounding above the music.

She turns, grabbing a napkin and a pen so that she can jot something down. He glances towards the water bottles resting on the counter, uncertain of whether this is where the conversation ends.

But then she’s handing him the napkin and leaning into him a bit more to say, “I’m leaving now, but in case you’d ever like to do something other than notice me.”

She’s gone before he can reply, but her phone number is written on the napkin, and he’s definitely not hiding the grin on his face as he run his fingers through his hair, “wow, what?”

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