#expect maybe some doodles. i have a few scenes i want to sketch out

[thewandererh]

🧊Symptom of Danger

| { [ ( a post-coma cccclinic story ) ] } |

for character references, visit here

please do not tag this as a ship

_…~^*^~…_ _…~^*^~…_ _…~^*^~…_

resting on a lounge couch, whole is trying to get some work done through his laptop. he's in his pajamas with a fluffy blanket settled over his lower half, and the 'puter on top of that blanket. ahead of him on a white coffee table is a freshly-opened sprite can, still fizzing and unfinished. nearby, mind sits in a comfy blue flannel robe, drape-y pants, and with his usual mask while reading a book in a grounded birdcage chair. he looks very comfortable, and is keeping whole company.

/weak cough hIC eaugh,,, great./

[you alright?] mind's gaze darts up from his book, protective.

/n-no. i still have a cough even after that cold, a..aHIC and now i have hiccups./ whole adjusts himself and brings a hand to his throat as he hiccups again, wincing painfully.

/aie-yai-yaiy...ouch./

[holding your breath usually works, right?]

/y-yeah, but it could hurt since i've been coughing all day. still on that medicine too. and, well...i don't like that method too much. hIcC...eaugh./

[hmm...] mind closes his book and puts it down on his lap. [are there other tactics?]

already on it, whole is leaning over his computer clacking away. he clicks the enter bar just as another hiccup rings through him.

/alright. i-HIC...excuse me./ he pats his chest briefly. /ow. uhm-paper bag, hugging knees close to chest, si-HICc...aheEm sipping cold water, granulated sugar, and biting into a lemon. there's quite a few apparently./

whole's voice grows a bit croaky near the end of his sentence, and he sputters out a few coughs. then a hiccup shoots through him right in the middle. hunched over, his eyes declare pain as he briefly thuds his chest and clears his throat. mind sits wide-eyed and anxious. whole can handle it—right?

/aHHeHm...mhm... i'll uh...go with the cold water./ he wheezes out another cough, massaging his neck and chest.

[how about...i...go get the water.] mind offers, never dragging his eyes away from whole's hunched posture.

/gh...ghood idea./

.-. .-. .-.

whole shifts in his seat, setting the computer aside, and huddles with his blanket close to his knees. comforting himself and trying a physical tactic out first. he stares straight ahead, glancing at the progress he's made on his computer, before closing it and his eyes to attempt some deep breaths. it's awkward with the hiccups, and his face scrunches up when they strike. he hugs himself and the blanket closer.

mind gets up to get the water, walking by whole's resting spot on the couch. he grabs a tall glass and fills it up on the cold setting with the fridge water filter, sighing. mind knows that he's very protective of whole, especially around soul. he's just...scared something could happen again. even going as far as fearing a certain someone could cause that. always scared some health issue or medical emergency could arise, and then they'd have to go back to that squeaky clean, endlessly tiled, rubbing alcohol-fuming place. whole—all of them—were there for so long. in headspace and in reality. it…changed them. in ways mind doubts he understands fully.

mind finds himself glancing over at whole, who is still hugging himself and trying to take deep breaths amidst the coughs and hiccups. an atmosphere of anticipation filled the room: the next hiccup, the glass to finish filling, or even something worse happing. the chances were never zero. mind stays vigilant for bad signs in case things got worse—but was that anxiety or logic? mind can’t keep his eyes of of whole. what even caused this whole hiccup thing, anyways?

he absentmindedly chooses ice before the loud clunky-splooshy sounds make him realize his mistake. mind looks back to the fridge, startled, before smiling to himself beneath the mask.

[my bad. uh. would you prefer no ice?] he calls out awkwardly.

whole manages /ice is fine, don’t worry./ in return after a hiccup. his hugging method wasn't working.

mind walks over, and whole turns and takes the tall glass from mind's hands. his hands shake as he tries to sip it slowly at intervals. afraid the hiccups would interrupt his sip. mind sits down beside him, hands fidgeting. his oversized blue flannel robe trailing behind him like a cape.

mind wants to guide him, to help in some way, but he bites his tongue. it’s painful to watch. why was it so painful to watch?

whole tries again, preparing himself with a moment of pause to help with nerves, and sips. some of the ice was fractured on the rim of the glass when mind hit the button, now swimming broken in the water. as whole lowers the glass mind hears a crunch. whole crushes up an ice fragment he sipped up, then swallows and smiles.

/it's always better with ice./ he puts the glass down, turning to mind.

[always.] mind nods knowingly, and both share a smile.

.-. .-. .-.

whole sips the glass a bit more before stopping. he wipes his hands on his shirt and then buries them in his blanket.

/my hands don't like the cold though./

he humors the mood and bundles himself up with his fluffy blanket. sighing.

/feels real refreshing feeling it go down. it's like a...waterslide. of cold comfort./ whole closes his eyes and smiles. mind pauses, staring into nothing. his eyes get wide.

[it's gone! your hiccups are gone.]

whole re-opens his eyes and waits.

/you're right!/ he pauses and assesses. /yeah! wow, thanks a bunch. we learned something new today./ whole closes his eyes and smiles. mind leans onto his blanket while smiling with his eyes. they rest for a moment.

.-. .-. .-.

eventually, whole resumed to his work and mind to his reading. whole finishes his scheduling and his tall glass of cold water, then celebrates with a nice snack for himself. mind joins him at the dining table behind the couch after finishing his chapter goal for the day. he snags a cheestick while whole readies a toasted pbj sandwich. he can never settle for the squishiness of the bread against the peanut butter and jelly. the bonus crunch was a must for whole literally always. sitting down opposite to mind after preparing the mini-meal, both whole's elbows collapse onto the glassy dining table. he takes a bite.

/…that hit the spot./ he mumbles out with a tired-eyed smile.

mind chuckles and undoes his mask to set in his lap. he sighs, and unwraps the cheestick to peels it piece by piece.

/woah. i usually just eat it in a few bites. i like your way better./ whole voices his observation after a big swallow.

[whaattt?? you've never seen me eat one if these? enjoy the little things, man. scarfing it down is a big thing—a big thing all going down all at once.]

he wags his finger as he makes his point, then goes to delicately peel his cheesetick as whole laughs.

/i think it’s more fun that way, too/ whole manages, finishing his sandwich as mind nods as a response.

/want anything to drink?/

[maybe some...ice water.] he smiles as he says it, finishing his cheesetick but keeping his mask off.

whole playfully smiles and rolls his eyes, catching the coffee table in his gaze. remembering the empty tall glass, he goes to grab it. something clicks in whole’s head when he spots the sipped soda too.

/uh... mind? i think i found the source of my hiccups earlier./ he grabs the sprite in the other hand, sets it down on the dining table in front of mind, then refills his tall glass. he could almost see the neurons burst with thought behind mind’s eyes.

[the carbonation must've sparked a negative reaction, of course! that kind of gas expands…—when you got the hiccups, how soon before had you sipped it? how many sips? where was this can placed?]

accustomed to this kind of thinking, whole replies as he finishes refilling his glass with ice water.

/yeah, stomach acid stuff./ he sets his refilled glass down on the counter, and grabs a fresh one to fill up for mind. /i tookkk two sips a minute before i started having my hiccups. and the can was placed.../ he leaned to look toward the couch and ergo coffee table /oddly out of view. like in a corner of the table. i think i was moving to sit down when i sipped it and didn't grab it again. then it caused some coughing as the hiccups came?/

mind's brain worked, his eyes laser-focused on the sprite in front of him. whole sets down mind’s water but remains standing beside him, and leans on the tabletop with his arm. mind barely notices the glass.

[that's…exactly what happened. yeah. you haven't had fizzy drinks in a while, right?]

he nods /that's right officer./

[well that’s a puzzle solved then! we have found the why: stay away from fizzy drinks. nice work detective.] mind remembers his water and sips in celebration. relief releases anxiety from his shoulders.

/you’re the one who can solve a rubik’s cube in a minute./ whole tilts his head silly-ly. mind makes a smug shrugging gesture.

[heh, yeah.] setting the glass down, he continues. [but uh, stay away from fizzy drinks in the future…i guess. how does your throat feel now?]

/i will. it feels ok i think?/ he presses a hand to it briefly. /a little leftover strain but that’s about it. the sandwich helped./ reminded, whole moves to clean up the kitchen.

[that’s good.] mind puts his mask back on and gets up to help whole. he feels more fluid as he moves, now unrestrained by tension.

.-. .-. .-.

there’s a quiet moment as they clean up the kitchen. mind is content that the problem is over, and his struggles are eased. but these struggles, this anxieties, are always there. he’s always fearing for whole’s safety. he’s always wary of every little detail. whole isn’t helpless—he’s finished his physical therapy procedures and can walk now. but they’re all getting used to life at this house that even whole hasn’t seen for a while.

mind tenses up: there’s this exhaustive need squirming to know everything’s ok. something could happen. someone could misjudge something. but then whole’s more used to life than any of them are, so he should know if he messes up…right? or maybe something happened to his brain in that place. mind’s brain. an altercation in his psyche. what i-

mind finds himself nearly dropping a plate as thoughts stampede. he sets it down in the sink.

/you ok?/ whole stands at a counter wiping it down with non-alcoholic spray. he turns, there for him.

washing his hands, mind takes a deep breath.

[do you think i’m overprotective?] he stops the faucet and turns to a whole. woefully unprepared and unwilling for this conversation.

whole pauses, but looks into mind’s eyes with a knowing gaze.

/i think that you care about me, and you’re worried something bad could happen./

mind lowers his gaze and nods.

/it’s nothing to be ashamed of. i worry for me too. i don’t want you to shoulder that worry—it’s my job./ whole…knows so much. it makes mind tense. was he that readable?

[i’m just…scared that…we’ll have to go back. or you ch-changed and can’t judge things correctly, or—] mind brings his right hand to his forehead, staggering with his words and demeanor. panicking. his metal arm tenses at his side.

whole recognizes the situation and walks up to mind. he gently grabs the metal hand. mind looks down at the handhold mellowly.

/i’ve…thought about it a lot myself. i have changed. we all have. we’ve overcome obstacles and learned valuable lessons. i believe i’m more…equipped for problems. with my health or my situation./

mind meets whole’s gaze. those knowing eyes spoke soundless comfort mind needed to hear. he knew what he was talking about.

[i’m so worried for you…all the time…] his throat burns as he says it, unwilling. tears well up. and then fall.

mind shivers in a breath, and falls gently onto whole.

they hug.

and it’s warm.

mind sobs quietly, thankful and relieved. he takes off his mask and it dangles by the straps, held weakly by his fingertips. arms dangling at his sides.

he buries his face in whole’s arm. so close that he can hear his heartbeat.

it’s steady and consistent. healthy. bold. and unparalleled in providing comfort.

whole is alive now. he’s ok now. they’re ok now.

whole holds mind gently.

/we’ve changed. and it’s for the better. we have hobbies and things that bring us joy. we have this house and the outside world. we have separate rooms and a backyard. we have grocery stores and style preferences. we have eachother. and we’ll always have eachother./

mind detenses all over, his face weak and wet. he adjusts himself in whole’s arms, and sighs whole-heartedly. eased.

whole draws in a long deep breath himself, sniffling a little. /you all mean a lot to me, mind./ he choked up and can’t continue.

instead, they cradle eachother in the kitchen. anxieties eased. breathing as one.

mind pulls back, wiping his face.

[th-thank you.]

whole smiles, blinking away tears. the sappyness got to him alright. he needs a moment before replying.

/w-well, thank you for getting me some awesome icy water./

mind chuckles, and looks back to his own unfinished ice water. [you too, heh.]

/oh man, i never finished mine did i? where’d it—/ he spins around, spotting it on the counter near the spray bottle. /ah./

mind smiles. he sets down his mask, grabs his glass, and sips while whole finishes his own. mind watches as he chugs the entire thing.

[that hit the spot?]

/big thing going down all at once. still very waterslide-y. hooh./

they share a gaze. and then burst out laughing. it’s reinforced when mind nearly spills his water onto his lap.

they die down gradually, the mood lightened.

[oh! my book. i found some really good literary devices in the last few chapters.]

/ooh, tell!/

mind finishes the last sips of his water and scampers off to the grounded birdcage chair in the living room. he pulls out his notebook (annotations defeat the immersion for him) and flips to today’s date. mind doesn’t wait for whole to sit down before he starts explaining the metaphors and foreshadowing he loves so much. whole is delightedly interested, asking questions and the like. mind’s explanations were always thorough enough that it felt like an experience of the book itself: surrounded by ideas and fantasies. he was so indulged in his hobby that it made whole smile. the hobby he found and enjoys with his whole being.

[randomyuu]

there's a lover in the story, but the story's still the same

Ahh, don’t you love it when fear motivates your drawing mood? (not really)

That’s what I felt reading the scene that is drawn below. It’s fear for Yuuji but also feeling excited picturing an emotionless teen!Gojou so here I am. Always down bad for Vox’s Goyuu fics, aren’t I? *sighs*

Welp, here we go.

Title: there’s a lover in the story, but the story’s still the same

Author: @voxofthevoid

Second fic of the series there’s a lover in the story, but the story’s still the same

Pairing YuuGo, NSFW, please read the tags carefully before giving it a read... the usual drill ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

!!! SPOILER FOR THE FIC !!!

Highly recommend you guys to read them first. Or not, it’s up to you honestly :v

Usually I would gush about the fic but I’ve already done that under the fic itself so I just want you to know this comic is solely carried by me wanting to draw the ticking time bomb called teen!Gojou-post-discussion-with-adult!Ieiri. You could probably guess what they’re talking about :”)

The fear for Yuuji’s well-being started this, but Satoru’s cold eyes kept me going. I can’t get rid of it from my mind lmao

You can say drawing these kind of expressions is my jam   (￣▽￣)

I hope I did Satoru’s emotions justice haha

A bit of my thoughts and doodle below. Unhinged maybe, it’s midnight, I got more work to do after this, and my brain cells are barely hanging on. Haha I'm living the life-

I AM STILL REELING FROM THE FACT I MANAGED TO GET THIS DONE.

There are so many things I want to talk about in the process of making this. But after I typed it out, most of them sounded so unnecessary so I rewrote it a few times. I tried to make this as short as possible lmao

Typesetting and sketching are the roughest parts of this project. During these stages, I kept feeling everything I did wasn’t doing the scene enough justice, and it was frustrating. As I planned this project, I read a few doujins and noticed the font types scanlation teams use. There are so many of them, and each helped convey the tone of each image. Felt like crying when I realised I’m not knowledgeable enough to apply good typesetting, ngl. And then the interior design. Fuck, the frustration is so real. I am absolutely clueless about this kind of thing. Tracing lots of references because I have no perception of space makes me feel even worse. I knew first times rarely create a masterpiece, but I was not satisfied with my accomplishment and the feeling of failing to fulfil my own expectations hurt.

BUT.

Thank goodness most of the things I need to draw are Shouko, Yuuji and Satoru. Because dear g o d drawing them healed me. I found so much comfort in drawing Shouko’s long hair and Satoru’s eyes and drowning Yuuji in an oversized hoodie. The comfort zone of character drawing never feels so real lmaooo

Drawing them was so effective that I can look back at the backgrounds with acceptance. Hey, I did it! Not perfect just yet, but I did it!

Haha I feel like I’m losing my mind. I don’t know if it’s in a good way or a bad way. Guess I do have one or two screws loose.

Only for Yuuji lmao

(nah I just need sleep, or cooling down from the rush of having finished this)

It might come off as a surprise if you’ve only seen my art on Tumblr, but I’ve always preferred to draw feminine-leaning ladies. I’ve always loved drawing their curves, whether it’s the figure, the clothes, or the (long) hair. But I’ve grown to like drawing masculine gentlemen as well with their sharp edges and straight lines, and now my ladies start to look more androgynous lmao

Anyway, I was pretty stoked to be able to draw adult!Ieiri! I… I kind of miss drawing long hair so here have some more before you go on your day ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

[zombeebunnie]

Trembling Essence:💙Background + poll results💙

Hello hello and welcome new followers! :]

Firstly I just want to say a very big thank you to everyone that participated in the poll I did last week, I was really surprised but happy with the results and responses! This will help me a lot moving forward! :,] If you missed it and would like to say which route you preferred feel free to comment!

Anywho, this week mainly focused on art practicing again but I did work on the game and managed to get my bearings even more!

Here is the new background for the start of the game:

This took a long time to draw up since I sketched out the background instead of looking at references this time. Once I got a basic idea of how I wanted it to look it felt.. too empty and flat. At first I couldn't figure out why until I added more shrubbery and grass. After that I started adding the trees and then added a few more to give it depth and adjusted some of the coloring. So far the immersive symbolism I'm going for is slowly coming together! Since it just finished raining where you're located I tried to give the background the illusion of looking tolerably humid but slowly getting colder over time with a hint of decay in the distance. This is a better look of the dreary foreboding atmosphere compared to the "fairy-forest" from last week. >:,] It took a while but I also added a parallax effect here and optimized the images to save space. I kept getting an error when it came to the middle ground so I had to find and fix the problem which delayed things. I don't have a video to show it in action but maybe next time. I do want it to be known again that these automatically happen and don't follow the cursor. :,,]

Here's a sneak peek of the new choices you can do when you're in this area now. >;]

This part required a lot of brainstorming before I figured out how I wanted the explorative part to go. This was originally going to go a different way completely but a particular day caused me to just scrap it and start everything over. I have a very solid idea on how I want all of this to go better than ever so I can't wait to show some of the new areas! I didn't expect this background to take as long as it did to draw up but hopefully next week I'll have more done!

Progress doodle layout:

Since certain endings are being changed I thought it would be cool to animate a progress layout to visually show how everything is going! It shouldn't take too long to finish this section up since I already have a foundation laid out.

Noah's sprite sheet update:

As far as Noah sprite sheets goes, it's still in sketch mode and I haven't messed with them yet since I've been practicing. :,,]

There are some old drawing prompts I wrote down and sketches that I'm still doodling up behind the scenes so hopefully I can get to them at some point with some attached lore. :,]

Q&A / Ask box is still open:

If you have any questions about Trembling Essence/Noah feel free to ask here please. This makes it easier for me to see and answer accordingly! I would really like to hear from you guys!

Thank you to those who have sent in asks after everything got reset! I'll try to get to them when I can along with the ones that come to mind that got deleted. I just need time to answer since I like to respond with doodles/drawings as practice. :]

Overall that's everything I have to share so far, thank you guys for your continued encouragement and support through all of this, I wholeheartedly appreciate it! :,,]

[the-lone-wolf-artist]

A Big Changes to this Blog that was Long Overdue...

Hello Everyone…

It's been quite a while since I last posted anything on this blog, well beside repeats of Desolate Paradise content.

You see, a lot of stuff has changed over the years since I first started this blog in 2016 to now 2024, man a long time huh? Anyway, I never expected the good, the bad, and the ugly things and how it would affect my life. I won't get into the details, but basically I'm just like anyone else in the world that deals with hardships and loss. I found it hard to stay passionate and creative with my art and my mindset, that it got to a point where I had enough…

I stopped doing everything that I loved the most and took a huge break from it.

While I was stewing, reflecting, and just recharging my batteries, I was doing other hobbies during this time that I enjoyed. I was writing for a while through the many fandom Au's I've created and I slowly started getting my spark back and my creative juices flowing again.

I started doodling, sketching and doing art again, even though they may not be the best of what I've done before. I'm still happy with them and it's getting me back to what I love doing most.

I then reached a decision on what I want to do with this blog to not only solve the inactivity but also better myself in the process.

The Big Changes to this Blog

These are the "Big Changes" that will be happening to the The Lone Wolf Artist Blog…

As I mentioned before I do have other hobbies that I have developed over the years that I love doing behind the scenes, such as:

Writing

Animating

Sewing

Beading jewelry

Resin Art

Diamond Art

These are the few prime examples of things I like doing that has expanded my creative space and mindset besides drawing all the time. The reason I haven't posted these types of content was because I was too focused on making masterpieces and trying to keep up with drawing inactivity on this blog.

I started to learn that it was making me unhappy and too stressed out, but that's all about to change for this blog with these hobbies and the other fandom's I'm interested in too! You see the The Lone Wolf Artist Blog is gonna be my personal space for my other hobbies and the other fandom's that I enjoy beside Motorcity, like:

One Piece

Red Dead Series

Studio Ghibi Content

Monster Hunter Series

Evil West

Okami

And Many More Fandom Content I enjoy!

These are the few examples of the other kinds of fandom that I enjoy and love. My interest goes beyond just Motorcity. I have written many fandom Au's stories during my huge break and I'm dying to bring them to life!

Basically this blog is gonna be a place where I get to do what I want to do and you guys get to see the kinda stuff I created through my written fandom Au's stories instead of focusing on one fandom!

Now the Future Changes of this Blog

Now with these big changes happening with this new direction to the Lone Wolf Blog, it doesn't stop there.

You see I do have other changes that will be coming in the future too! Such as:

1: Question Box Opening [Reason for the Idea: It is where you guy's can ask me questions. (FYI: Their will be Rules to prevent Chaos.)]

2: Request Box Opening [Reason for the Idea: Where you can request drawing ideas for me to draw with rules too. (FYI: I'm a bit undecided about the idea right now. If this idea becomes official, it will be a Limited Box Opening of how many I would take; basically an on and off box.)]

3: Previews of W.I.P.S. Artwork's [Reason for the Idea: I know my art takes a lot of time and patience that causes these long pauses in my blog activity, so maybe I'll post some W.I.P'S of my art content process time to keep up the activity.]

4: Previews of W.I.P.S. Animation's [Reason for the Idea: I sometimes dapple in animation every now and then, maybe I'll post some rough animations that I'm really proud of through my simple animation journey.]

5: Short AU Stories [Reason for the Idea: When I'm not drawing or my hand is slightly sore, I like writing small stories in between from my AU's, maybe I'll post these little stories, but no promises I'm not the best writer but not awful.]

6: Small Comic AU's & Scene's [Reason for the Idea: I write a lot and sometimes I like to take the time to bring these scene's to life.]

7: Gaming Clips [Reason for the Idea: Sometimes during the weekend breaks, I play games to give my creative brain a break. Every now and then I capture awesome, funny and goofy moments during my playthrough's that I'm wiling to share.]

These are a few of my suggestions… I will makes post's when I make the final decisions.

Now The Desolate Paradise Blog Issue

The Desolate Paradise Blog (AKA: Motorcity X Wolf Rain's AU Crossover Story) is going be on hiatus in indefinitely…

I made this decision because I want to focus on my other fandom AU's without focusing on this one all the time and causing me to be stressed out and trying to force myself to keep working on it. It wasn't fun anymore and that's not what I wanted for this AU…

So I'm going to put it on hiatus effective immediately, will it return?…

I don't know right now. For now its on pause and needs to stay like that, until I'm ready to come back to it or.. maybe give up on it entirely…only time will tell.

Thank You for Reading and Listening

Thank you all for listening and reading this. It means a lot to me, I hope it clears up a lot of the stuff that's been going on with the inactivity to not only the The Lone Wolf Artist Blog but also the Desolate Paradise Blog too.

It was kinda bothering me for a while and I felt I needed to express it and want to make a change for the better.

I hope you are excited about the new changes that will be happening for the better and hope you all enjoy the new content that will be posted on the The Lone Wolf Artist Blog soon!

With that I bid you farewell and I shall return to the darkness again.

[mimi-cee-hq]

A Genuine Mess - Atsumu x f!reader

Pairing: Atsumu x f!reader

Summary: Atsumu insults you, the quietest girl in his class. But as he gets to know you, your few words often leave him blushing.

Genre, etc.: Tooth rotting fluff, Atsumu is a dork in love but still consistent with his canon character, reader is quiet but not timid

Warnings: none

Author's Notes: I wanted to try a different personality for the reader as well as taking one of Atsumu's negative character traits and flipping it on its head :) This was fun to write. Hehehe.

Words: 1.9k

*****

"What? She's here for me?" said Atsumu. He pressed his lips together to hide the smile forming on his lips. As he attempted to walk to the gym doors as normally as possible, Aran tilted his head while Osamu wore an amusing smirk.

Atsumu leaned on the frame of the gym doors. "What'd ya want?" he asked you, trying to be as smooth as possible. His voice didn't reveal his usual arrogance and was unexpectedly gentle.

"Could I see your hand?" you asked him with a quiet but direct tone.

When he held his hand out in front of you, you delicately turned it over, palm faced down, and positioned his fingers one by one. You didn't notice him gripping the side of his jersey in his other hand, trying to keep it together every time your fingers grazed his skin. You let go of his hand to pull out your phone and angled it to get a good shot of his hand.

Click.

"Thank you Atsumu-san," you told him, putting your phone away and leaving the gym.

Atsumu returned to the court, not even able to hide the childish grin from his teammates anymore. Some widened their eyes and others dropped their jaws as they witnessed the entire scene.

"So when did you start liking her?" Suna asked him.

"I don't like her," Atsumu adamantly responded.

A laugh escaped Osamu's lips and Atsumu told him to shut up. He hated that his twin knew exactly why he was acting like this.

*****

"Well that looks ugly."

Seated at your desk, you looked up from your sketch to see Atsumu's scrunched up nose. It didn't take long for it to disappear. Osamu whacked him on the head for insulting the quietest girl in class two and quite possibly their whole year.

"Sorry about this jerk," Osamu told you. "He doesn't have a filter."

But when he started to drag Atsumu away from you, they heard the rare sound of your voice.

"Miya-san," you said.

They both turned around but after looking at each other, they assumed you were referring to your classmate Atsumu.

"Why does it look ugly?"

"Ha?" Atsumu gawked at you. He scratched the back of his head. "I dunno. The shoulders just looked gross"–he got whacked on the head again–"Hey!" He glared at Osamu.

After they bickered for a bit, they turned their attention back to you, but you were already facing your desk, immersed in your sketch. Osamu raised an eyebrow at Atsumu, expecting him to know what that was all about, but he only shrugged his shoulders, not having a clue either.

The next time Atsumu heard your voice was when you came to see him at his desk.

"Ha? What's this?" he asked.

In front of him, you had placed another sketch. You didn't say a word but looked at him as if you were expecting some sort of comment.

Atsumu raised an eyebrow but looked at the sketch anyway.

"What's wrong with this dude's hand?" he asked as he squinted at the drawing, holding your sketchbook up to his eyes. "It looks like it's dislocated or something."

The classmate beside him shot his eyes open. He then looked up at you to see your reaction.

"Thank you," you told Atsumu with a little nod before returning to your desk. Those were the only words you had for Atsumu and they had left him and his classmate speechless.

Atsumu's eyes lit up the third time you came to his desk.

"Which one looks the worst?" you asked him, showing him three different sketches.

"This one," he said, pointing to the one in the middle. "There's no way a person could have hair like that."

You ignored his comment and asked him again which one looked worse. He still chose the middle one, saying the expression reminded him too much of his brother.

You gave him a nod as thanks and as he watched you return to your desk, there was a small uptick at the corner of his mouth, gazing at you gathering your pencils together and continuing your progress.

Over the next couple of weeks, he watched you from afar as you drew doodles during class when you should've been paying attention. He wondered if he should actually write notes from the lesson in case you needed them. Maybe he'd pass them to you the next time you showed him your artwork.

But you hadn't made a trip to his desk during the next two weeks. Why did you stop coming? So when you left the classroom, he quickly opened the sketchbook that was left on your desk and went through it page by page, curious to see what you'd been drawing this whole time. As he flipped through the pages, he saw how your drawings had gradually improved. He couldn't help but smile at your growth as an artist.

"Miya-san."

He jumped at your voice and snapped the book shut. He fumbled over his words. "I wasn't looking! It just fell and I picked it up from the ground!" he told you. "When I put it back on yer desk it just happened t' be like that!"

He then saw an expression he had never seen on your face. Your brows were furrowed and your lips turned into a frown. You let out a deep breath. "Miya-san, you're free to look through my sketchbook, but please don't lie to me."

His eyes widened before he lowered them to stare at the classroom floor. Shoulders sagging, he told you in a hushed voice, "I'm sorry." He sighed and dragged his feet back towards his desk. But just when he was about to pull out his chair, he heard your soft voice.

"Miya-san," you said, looking directly at him when he turned to you. "Like I said, you can come and look at it whenever you want."

Atsumu pressed his lips together, trying to hold back a stupid grin on his face. But his eyes betrayed his attempt as they crinkled and turned into crescents, elated at your offer.

*****

Over the next several weeks, Atsumu used any excuse he could to chat with you at your desk before he finally settled on talking to you about anything and everything. He tried to get to know you, asking you questions, but your answers were short and simple, not knowing how else to respond.

However, Atsumu shamelessly continued to talk about himself, his brother, the team, and whatever else was on his mind that day. You always nodded and listened with a smile.

"I think she's just being nice to you," commented Osamu.

"She's never stopped me," Atsumu replied with a huff, crossing his arms, which only resulted in Osamu shaking his head.

Without looking up from your sketch, you told him, "I like hearing him talk."

Osamu's eyes grew at your response but when he glanced over at his twin, Atsumu's ears and cheeks had turned red.

"Oh?" the silver haired twin said with a sly grin. "You're blushing 'Tsumu."

"No I'm not!" Atsumu said after clearing his throat and turning his head away. Osamu was about to tease him when instead, you said something that deepened his blush.

"It's cute."

Osamu's jaw dropped. Atsumu froze at your comment before deciding to put his face down on your desk, burying it into his arms.

As you and Atsumu got to know each other, he learned that you were still close with your friends from middle school. They were there for you, always supporting you and your passion for art. But when you asked them what they thought about your drawings, they had always said they looked good. You were grateful for them but you couldn't tell if they were just being nice.

"So is that why you asked me about yer drawings?" Atsumu noted. You confirmed it with a nod and he looked at you with longing eyes and a soft smile.

You caught him off-guard when you took a photo of him. "Your expression was interesting just now," you told him. "I want to use it as reference."

Atsumu blushed and covered the lower half of his face. He muttered something through his hands that you didn't quite catch.

"Hm?" you asked.

"Y-you can use me as reference any time."

You took him up on his offer. You'd often snap pictures of him, casually pulling out your phone when you'd find an interesting expression on his face. You even came to see him at practice when you wanted to practice drawing some hands. He often wondered what you noticed about him when you used him as reference, what expressions you saw in him.

One day after classes had ended and volleyball practice was cancelled, he sat at the other side of your desk as you switched to a different drawing pencil from your set. What did you see when you looked at him? His eyes? His nose? His lips?

His hand rose next to your face, his thumb grazing your cheek. When you looked up at him from your drawing, he pulled his hand back, suddenly realizing what he was doing.

He bit his lip, scolding himself for doing that to you. You called his name and his attention was back on you.

"Why did you stop?" you asked.

Butterflies were fluttering in his stomach, not at all expecting those words. Looking at you through his eyelashes, he saw you directly looking back at him. Were you serious?

Somehow getting the courage to make a move, he drew his hand toward you and gently cupped your cheek. He bent over your desk and brought his lips near yours, stopping midway as if waiting for permission to follow through. You leaned in a little closer and he closed the gap, feeling your soft lips against his.

Pulling back, his eyes studied your face for some sort of reaction. He bit his lip, doubting if that was what you wanted. Perhaps he didn't do a good job or you had changed your mind after the kiss.

What if you were just doing this for reference?

He searched your eyes for an answer, not knowing that you saw the insecurity in his.

"I liked it, Atsumu."

His eyes grew. He was both delighted and flustered, not believing that he got to kiss you, that you'd accept a kiss from someone like him. He hugged you and placed a kiss on your forehead, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close.

*****

"Guys! I have a girlfriend!" Atsumu declared, storming into the gym the next day. They all raised their brows when they saw who was holding his hand.

"Are you serious?" asked Aran.

"It's probably fake," Suna commented.

"He must have bribed her or something," Osamu added.

"All of ya just shut up!" Atsumu yelled at them as they all gave him a skeptical look. He sighed and dropped his shoulders as he held your hand.

They snickered and teased him, but when there was a silent pause in the air, they heard your voice for the first time.

"I like him," you told his team. Your voice was quiet but they heard every word. They freaked out, gawking at the two of you, an unlikely pair.

Atsumu turned his face away because his cheeks went red again. Your words, more often than not, caused him to be up in a fluster.

*****

I hope you enjoyed it.

I couldn't help but have Suna say it was fake for all my "A Glimpse of Yellow" readers. lolll.

If you liked this one, you might like one of these:

1) my Tendou one-shot (timid!reader)

2) my Sakusa one-shot (where he gets a crush on exchange student!reader)

3) my Kyoutani one-shot (another unexpected pairing)

And I want to shamelessly throw in my Suna chaptered fic (fake dating) just because it's my current series. lol.

I also have a Google form for my taglist if any of you are interested in it.

[astaroth1357]

Demigod MC Series: Athena

So. I have to deal with the virgin goddesses… By mythos, there really shouldn't ever be children of Artemis, Hestia, or Athena (yes, Athena was a virgin goddess). PJ got past that by making it canon that Annabeth and her siblings were born from cracking open Athena's skull (yes, that's also more or less the canon explanation). They gloss over it real quick but I remember, Rick. I've always remembered and that mental image has haunted me for years...

I can't, in good conscience, ignore the history around Athena's worship (call it an academic restraint) but I REFUSE to do the skull thing. So, since I make the rules here, I'm going with magic adoption. They still get magic powers, they're just more human than demigod. Cool? Cool.

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter, Athena

Lucifer

The human that popped out of the portal seemed to have enough sense not to attack everyone in the room for a change, but even Lucifer could tell that was more of a strategic choice than for lack of ability...

Their very existence was highly unusual… and quite worrisome. He wasn't even aware Athena could have "children" of her own, but apparently she had been taking in some particularly bright humans to raise and train like her own...

Unbeknownst to him, a surprising amount of human scholars, diplomats, and generals have her to thank for their trade… and that alone should speak to the level of intrigue at play here. 

Was this an accident or Athena's attempt to plant an Olympian spy in the Devildom too…? Either way, he didn't trust them from the get go…

Look, Lucifer isn’t stupid. Athena is a goddess of Wisdom and War and war happens on more than just the battlefield… 

Since they've shown up records have been going missing, official documents keep getting misplaced, and he swears that there's some kind of bug in the student council room...!

It's infuriating watching the MC suck up to Diavolo when he's almost certain that they're running their own agenda behind the scenes! And he can't prove any of it!! They cover their tracks too well!

Lucifer has one of those corkboards covered in newspapers and string in a secret wing of the Castle - 100% dedicated to just tracking the MC's activities…. The longer they're there, the more obsessed he becomes...

He swears between Simeon, Solomon, and MC he feels like a shepherd wondering why the sheep are growling… The Devildom has never been in more danger than it is right now... Send help.

Mammon

To be honest, he kind of thought that they were just going to be Satan 2.0 but that's not really true.

They're more than just a book sponge! Though they do read, like a lot. Let’s just say from one schemer to another… Game recognizes Game.

They come up with plans and ideas soooo fast, it’s insane! Honestly, there are times where he has a new money-making plot and he just brings it to the MC first to run it over. 

Nine times out of ten, not only do they sniff out any problems but they have a solution for him in a matter of minutes! His scheme game has been on point since they’ve shown up!!

They’re also even better tutoring than Satan is, so he’s even managed to get a couple A’s for the first time in his life! Lucifer actually told him he was proud (which he secretly recorded and now uses as a ringtone much to his brother’s regret...)

So yeah, he likes them... buuut that doesn’t keep him from thinking they act a little weird sometimes... 

Mammon: *points to a unused tower close to the RAD building* Over there is the Tower of Sorrow. We use it for storage.

MC: Ah. Interesting… *starts writing in a notebook, muttering* It may need a few minor tweaks but the location is defensible...

Mammon: *stops* Ya say somethin’?

MC: *looks back up* Nope! Say, you’ve been to the Castle a lot haven’t you? Do you know any good ways in?

Mammon: Uhm… Why do ya want to know that…? *starts looking around for Lucifer*

MC: In case of emergencies. I like being prepared. 🙂

Mammon: Look, I don’t know what Lucifer might’a told ya…

MC: I’ll pay you a thousand Grimm for it.

Mammon: Well shit, ya want those maps with or without color?

... Yeeeah, that’s pretty weird… But it’s probably fine. I mean, as long as they keep giving him money, who’s he to complain? 🤷‍♀️

Leviathan

Also thought that they’d be a lot more like Satan but was pleasantly surprised that they were into more than books.

What else did they like exactly? Military strategy!!

It’s been a looong time since he’s been able to talk to someone who’s actually interested in all the battles he’s fought, both in the Celestial Realm and the Devildom, and their curiosity is kind of flattering...! Not a lot of people take his strategic prowess all that seriously anymore...

Plus, they are the BEST partner to have any turn-based strategy game. Hands down. He once got stuck on a level of D-COM for weeks until the MC walked in and mopped the floor with the AI!! They have a serious head for probability and tactics.

The House once made the mistake of letting these two be on the same team during a Hell Game and they absolutely demolished the competition. Mammon didn’t even get a single shot off before half his team was lost to a rigged paint grenade… It took a whole day to clean up… 

However, Levi’s also noticed some odd things about the human… He likes that they’re interested in his past but maybe they’re a little… too interested?

Levi: -and that’s how we defeated the Four Horsemen before they escaped from Purgatory. 

MC: Wow, Levi that’s seriously impressive!! *furiously scribbling on a notebook*

Levi: Well t-thanks… 😅 But, uhm... are you writing that down…?

MC: Hm? Oh no, just doodling. *they lift up the notebook to show a bunch of cute little sketches on the page… and not the magic-based invisible ink all over them…*

Levi: Oh you draw too? Can you do fanart???

MC: Eh, sometimes. But say Levi, can you tell me about your naval ranks again? I’m still really curious… *gets the pen ready again with a smile*

Satan

Oh, it's been a long game of cat-and-mouse between these two… and unfortunately, it’s been pretty addicting too.

He honestly had every intention of tricking the human into making a huge mess do he could bother Lucifer, but at every turn they proved just a hair too clever for him...

He once gave them a cursed book to “lend” to Lucifer, but they saw through it the moment they touched it and lifted the spell before handing it over.

He rigged a podium to spray glitter during one of Lucifer's speeches but the MC disconnected the trigger mic before he even got on stage. It was pretty dang frustrating...

At one point he got so desperate that, just as a test, he tried to trap them in the House's Music Room. Fortunately for them, it only took a few minutes to work out an escape. They even passed by him in the hallway with a wink!

It's confounding! It's infuriating!! 

...and it's so damn sexy... He should be furious but he’s just in awe!!

Add on that they know their art, literature, and multiple different crafts thanks to the tutelage of their adopted mother and that’s it. He’s finished. This boy is in love.

Truthfully though, a part of him is 90% sure that they’re also gathering state secrets… Like, they’re watching Barbs and Diavolo far too close for comfort - but he just can't bring himself to care. 🤷‍♀️

The MC could walk into his room one day and say, "Hey, do you want to help overthrow the monarchy with me?" and he dreads it because deep down he knows that he wouldn’t say no…

Take some notes, kids. Some bad influences get you to drink or do drugs. Others pull you into a centuries long conspiracy to destabilize and topple rival realms from within… But he has fallen for their brain hard. Devil help them all…

Asmodeus 

They’re pretty clever, he’ll give them that, but uh… Are they a little off to anybody else?

Asmo is a charmer by birthright so he has a bit of nose for when someone’s just a liiittttle too nice… Not much of a nose mind you, because he can be thrown off by compliments himself, but enough to think that the MC might be a little too… “kind” for their own good...

First off, who wants to spend that much time with Levi?? They don’t even seem that interested in anime! They just keeping asking him for old war stories…

Then all the sucking up they do to Diavolo and Barbatos? Look, he gets it. Diavolo is a delicious piece of man-hunk and his butler could give him a lesson or two in sweet-talk (and he has), but they seem to be just a little too… nosy.

Of course, Asmo’s suspicions disappear pretty quickly after they start to spoil him with spa nights and beauty secrets they picked up from “casual research” into the subject.

And you know, get a little Demonus in Asmo and start massaging his back? Oh, sweetie he’ll sing like a bird!! … with gossip. Singing with gossip.

Asmo: So I’ve heard that Lucifer has been spending more time at RAD than usual… His whole club is talking about it, they think he’s meeting with some witch!

MC: Hm, is that so? *works on a knot near his shoulder blades* What do you think?

Asmo: Ooh~! Right there, MC! *purrs and lays his head on his arms* Well come on, this is Lucifer we’re talking about! I’m sure he’s just working.

Asmo: Hmm... though come to think of it, I think I heard him asking Barbatos for the spare keys to the Tower of Sorrow…

MC: Oh really? Huh. *works out the knot and gets up* I just remembered that I left some papers with Satan... I’ll be right back.

Asmo: You’re going already??

MC: *waves him off quickly* I’ll be right back, Asmo. *hurries out the door to do totally on-the-up-and-up things… surely*

Beelzebub 

Honestly he doesn't like this one… But not for the reasons you'd expect.

He agrees with everyone else that they seem a little shady, but Solomon and Simeon are too so it's not like that's anything new... 🤷‍♀️

No, no. He dislikes them because they're the person who FINALLY figured out how to keep him from eating all the food in the kitchen!!

Turns out that the trick was to put a teleportation charm on the fridge door that would send all the food away if it’s opened after a certain time of night… 

And where does it go? The Purgatory Hall fridge. And where does the Purgatory Hall food go…? The HoL fridge…

It doesn’t sound so bad until you remember that it means half of their fridge is now Solomon’s leftovers…. 🤢

After they put the same kind of spell on the pantry, it was all over… He couldn't get midnight snacks from the House anymore… Everything was contaminated by Solomon…

The MC is a nice enough person, he doesn’t have a lot of complaints about them, but he wants them to leave. Now. This is inexcusable… He’s so hungry… and he doesn’t want to die by “goulash” or whatever Solomon calls his latest culinary catastrophe… He’s still too young for death… 😓

Belphegor 

In a way, he absolutely could not have asked for a better person to help him get out of that attic.

… In another way, he got one of the worst possible people to try and kill... Like. They saw through his scheme sooo fast…

How was he supposed to know that the human had training in body language and sniffing out lies???

Getting the door open was a piece of cake for them. They knew enough magic to undo the seals and just rummaged around Lucifer's stuff long enough to find the key to the door. He could not have found a more competent individual for a break out, really.

It’s just… well he didn’t expect to go from locked in a room like a prisoner to tied up in enchanted rope, still like a prisoner but now mobile. 😑 

They even used his own hug ruse against him! They caught his wrists when they got close and tied him up before he could shake them off...

Admittedly, it wasn't exactly the best look for them either - what with walking Belphegor downstairs to the others like a one-man-prison-caravan but they're as silver-tongued as they are sly so they talked their way out of it beautifully… 

And like hell was he going to trust them after that!! And not even Beel liked them so something had to be up...

Well, you want a detective? Look no farther than Belphie (no seriously, it’s in the canon). He can put things together pretty fast when he puts his mind to it and watching the MC for a while gave him enough proof to work off of...

He always knew that, humans were bad news and the MC just proved it to him all over again. They are bad news, bad bad news and they’re going to-!

Overthrow… Diavolo…? Is that what he is getting from them…? Huh…

Wait a second, MC. You might just have him interested… 😏

[ushidoux]

Look at Me, Senpai - Hinata x Reader x Daichi (Pt. 2)

Summary: Reader starts to see Hinata in a different light once he returns from Brazil. It turns out Hinata’s inability to give up isn’t just something restricted to the court. (~1.9k words)

Warnings: fem!reader, nsfw, infidelity, a touch of the yandere

A/N: Man even my evil heart was a little bothered by this lmfao. Turns out it needs another part, so expect that sometime this week?

Part 1|| Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5

---

“You can stay if you’d like to.”

You paused for a split second in the middle of redressing yourself, your gaze settling on Hinata’s impressive body, now glowing with the thinnest layer of sweat and perched on the edge of the bed, maybe a little bit too eagerly. While his voice remained steady and neutral, his eyes showed just a hint of pleading, the sentiment also threaded in the way his knuckles whitened as he steadied himself in place. He appeared as though he were holding himself back from saying more or doing more. 

For a moment you were almost angry - in fact, furious that he would suggest that you’d stay over on the very first night, almost like he thought he was somebody important to you, like you weren’t simply taking out some sort of repressed frustration out on him.

However, the extremely recent memory of being folded and pressed into the plush hotel mattress, legs dangled over his shoulders, fingers tangled in his wild hair, filled so wide and so deep that you knew you’d probably think about it for the rest of your life if all of this somehow miraculously blew over, flashed in your mind and your irritation was replaced with another wave of guilt. 

No wonder he spoke with this sort of unchecked boldness. You had allowed it. He probably could smell the lust on you from the very moment he lay eyes on you at the restaurant.

You left the hotel without another word, but when he sent you a message to see if you had gotten back okay, you begrudgingly accepted that you would see him again. You couldn’t help it.

And so you continued to meet, with the securing of your engagement ring in a tiny pocket in your purse a new routine before you entered Hinata’s warm embrace for a couple of hours many more nights than not. Hinata, as usual, was all too happy to receive you, his brown eyes lighting up the night. In the dark, whenever he closed his eyes and let himself focus on your staccato breaths as he pulsed inside you, you were his and his only.

Soon your encounters progressed beyond you ending up crumpled up in an overstimulated mess to candid conversations over earnestly made and surprisingly decent meals. Hinata was a very good listener and hung on every word you said, making you realize how little you expressed yourself in the daytime.

Even creating art was different when he was around. You started to bring your sketchbook with you when you visited now that you didn’t solely leave under the cover of night, doodling quietly in the setting sun that matched the locks of his hair as you sat on his couch. The first time you’d decided to do something other than fuck for hours, he’d asked you what you did for a living. 

“I, uh, draw.”

The shout of genuine awe Shoyo let out was almost overwhelmingly embarrassing.

“What??? You get to do that all day?! Incredible! Do you paint too? What do you draw? Still life? Scenes? Can you draw me?” As Shoyo asked these questions, he only inched closer and closer to the couch, crowding your space and while you still retreated from him naturally, you could feel your heart drawing closer.

It had been literal years since someone was excited about what you produced, and while Daichi appreciated your creations around the house, you could tell he thought of them nothing more than decoration, not expressions of your soul.

Everything you make is beautiful, was your fiance’s compliment of choice but what you would have preferred to hear was Everything you make is meaningful.

But you were Daichi’s little housewife, not an artist.

Like his little pet, Daichi continued to kiss you on the forehead before the crack of dawn before he went off to work and drape a protective arm over you late into the night once he returned, and you continued to pretend you never ever took off your engagement ring and work through wedding planning as though you weren’t making a mockery of your wedding vows night after night.

The ninth - or maybe eleventh time (?), you’d lost count - you met with Hinata, you asked him a bold question of your own.

“S-Shoyo..,” you started, trying your very best to ignore the winding coil in your belly as you tried to talk past Hinata’s deft fingers pumping in and out of your quivering cunt. 

“Mm?” His eyes were on you but his fingers continued to move, making it hard for you to remember how to formulate what you wanted to say, and it didn’t help that his other arm hooked around your waist pressed you against him just a little too firmly as usual.

“Why-,” your breath halted as he found the correct spot and you closed your eyes and bit your lip, but you pushed through the pleasure to speak, “why did, or.. why do you like me?”

“I don’t know.” His answer was both shocking and unsurprisingly candid. “I don’t think it matters, though.”

The glint in his eyes and the wide grin as he took in your varied expressions of pleasure reminded you that it truly didn’t matter why, and especially not for someone like him.

“Stay still for me, ____,” he whispered, diverting the subject, as he kissed your mouth softly to put your questions to rest then planted kisses in a trail down your belly to your lower lips.

---

A few months pass and your wedding preparations slow almost to a halt.

You don’t admit to yourself that it’s because you know now that you are falling out of love with Daichi and you ignore the fact that Hinata continues to permeate your mind almost all the time. You can’t exactly say that you’re in love with him because you aren’t. After all, you have enough self-awareness to understand what it means to be in love with the idea of someone new and to be seen as somebody different. 

When Hinata lets you know he’ll now be traveling for matches, he kisses your forehead, caresses your face and assures you he’ll be back soon to see you. He sends sweet texts and pictures as if he really is your boyfriend, and it’s sick how quickly you react to your phone every time it buzzes or how you now wake up as early as Daichi to walk around your neighborhood as the sun rises just so you can hear Hinata’s voice on the phone.

You’re not in love with him though. You could never fall that quickly.

As you start a pot of coffee before putting on your running shoes, Daichi cups your face in his hands and presses his lips to yours, pulling back to look at you with adoration.

“What could I do without you?” He says before he goes. Your heart wrenches.

Your frustration mounts when you find yourself recreating Hinata’s features on paper and considering the complements of colors that would best convey his spirit. You tear out the sketch, crumpling up the paper in a ball before you toss it across the room and now you are crying because what the fuck are you actually doing?

Were you really this fickle?

You were - when your front door knocks in the early evening and it’s Hinata, not Daichi at your doorstep (because of course he wouldn’t knock to enter his own home), your first impulse is to hiss Whythefuckareyouhereareyouaninsanepersonleaveimmediately but when he says he missed you, you instead find yourself melting into strong, anxious arms.

And you forget that Daichi sometimes comes home before 7pm when Hinata hoists you up so that your legs wrap around his waist. You forget that this is your and Daichi’s living space while you are entirely consumed in Hinata’s kiss. You forget that the dining room is a place where you and your fiancé share meals together when Hinata bends you over the oak table, drags down your pants and panties so quickly you hear them tear, and enters you impatiently at full length and girth. He lets out a sigh as he settles inside you, and as you feel his cock pulsate within you, you forget the fact that Hinata is now pounding into you with reckless abandon like a cheap whore and that the legs of the table are slowly scraping along your wood floors, threatening to leave marks.

You can’t come up with the last movie you watched on the living room couch with Daichi when Hinata is laid across it, his face contorted in pleasure as your head bobs up and down his saliva coated shaft.

When Hinata is fucking you against the wall just beside your bedroom door, you’re unable to think about what it would mean for Daichi to find you and Hinata marking up every part of your home with your infidelity. All you can hear are his soft grunts with every upward thrust and all you focus on is the way you are filled so completely by him, how warm you feel and how it feels to hold on to him for dear life.

“You feel so, so good, ___,” Hinata whispers as his forehead presses to the hard surface behind you and he pushes even deeper, forcing another moan out of you that intensifies when he bites down on the soft flesh of your shoulder.

“S-Shoyo…”

“P-please be mine,” he suddenly begs, and you’re horrified, but at that very moment your coil snaps and your entire body clenches around him, your arms, legs, the walls of your vagina, your fingers, your desires… and then he comes as well and you can feel him with every jet that coats your insides.

You’re limp in his arms and he leans further in to keep you even steadier against the wall so that you don’t slip out of his grasp. His face is sweaty and sticky and he’s no longer smiling. His eyes are dark and desperate and you truly don’t understand why he wants you so badly but you know he won’t tell you because really does it matter?

Your heart all but stops.

This is wrong and evil and all types of awful but his eyes…

“Please, ___?”

Your mouth falters. Your breathing is heavy and even though there’s a haze clouding your thoughts, you still have enough panic to cut through the dizziness of it all as your heart now thumps rapidly in your chest, fueled by the adrenaline running through your veins.

What could you even promise him? You didn’t have time to take your ring off this time, and you weren’t completely sure you wanted to. It would mean a sort of defeat, that you really were this type of woman who played with others’ feelings to fill her own emptying heart.

You could feel Hinata growing soft inside you and him inching even closer to you as though he couldn’t bear to feel your body rejecting his.

You were still at a loss for words, and your eyes finally flitted over to the front door and maybe for a split second, you actually hoped Daichi would see you and make the decision, any decision for you. Anything that would end this nightmare of watching Hinata’s façade start to crumble before you.

“Dammit, ____.” Hinata’s voice suddenly breaks, and he pulls back to you and you steadily find yourself standing alone on your own two feet and look at him to see those eyes shining bright with tears.

He knows what you’re going to say before you say it, and you don’t want to break his heart, but you have anyway.

“Shoyo, I’m getting married.”

[silvanable]

If request are open, could I ask for Theo, Vincent, Leo, Arthur and Dazai finding out that MC is a manga artist/writer? Thank you so much!!

this is such a cute idea. as an artist and writer myself i take enormous pleasure it writing this and their reactions.

i switched these up a little bit, where the mc is an artist for one, a writer for another, and maybe both for yet another! i hope you enjoy~

↪  GUIDELINES

ー ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE

arthur just happens to find out on accident.

he knew that they had their hobbies and never really pried into that, it was something they did in their pastime just like how he was with his writing.

it just so happened to be that he was passing by the parlor when he noticed them inside with... was that his manuscript? and what were those other papers there?

nosiness curiosity got the best of him as he slips into the room to see what the mansion’s little visitor is up to.

he is, for once in his life, quite surprised to find the dear hunched over a pad of paper with a pencil in their hand.

he was quiet for a moment, examining what they were doing— which was clearly not writing— as their instrument moved over the page.

they shifted to look up at his manuscript, flipped a page, and was about to go back to their work when the noticed something from the corner of their eye.

arthur had leaned over the each of the seat, gaze fixed on the drawings in their lap and strewn about the table and seat.

the poor dear practically jumped out of their skin.

“arthur! don’t scare me like that!” they scolded him, face flush as they quickly tried to scramble and cover up their work.

“ah, was just curious to what you were doing, love,” he would flash them a grin and snatch up one of their papers before they could grab it.

“arthur, give it back!” they yelled in protest but he was far too quick for them.

his eyes scanned over the page, taking in the delicate lines of each character’s face and their expression, the texture and the design of the scenery and then his eyes fell to the dialogue...

“is this... holmes?” the genuine curiosity in his voice as he holds the paper out to them.

they try to snatch the page back but he jerks it up out of their reach before they can.

“yes okay! i’m sorry— i just saw your manuscript and i started reading it and... well, i just got inspired.”

now it has him curious and when arthur sets his mind to something, whether it be to unravel a mystery or get his questions answered, he’s going to get those answers.

after some encouragement, they finally admit to being a manga artist from their time— which as arthur understood was a unique artist who creates art to tell a story instead of words.

he is actually quite proud about the fact that his story is what motivated and drew out this creativity in them to the point they wanted to draw a ‘manga’ of his stories.

he absolutely keeps the page and a few other of their drawings he snatched up, every now and then when he’s working he finds himself drifting off to stare at it with a small smile.

ー DAZAI OSAMU

dazai was a writer and it seemed that the newest guest at the mansion was too.

of course, he never seemed to bring that up, as it seemed the writers of the mansion kept to themselves and wrote privately.

that was until the little darling had come stumbling up the stairs with an armful of paper.

of course they had not been looking where they were going, being rather preoccupied with trying to scribble down god-knows-what onto one of the pages, and walked straight into dazai as he was coming down.

he had acted fast, grabbing their wrist before they could tumble down the stairs, but the paper in their arms was less fortunate and thrown into the air.

“if you wanted to see me, ume-san, you could have just said so,” he greeted with his usual light and teasing voice.

the poor dear was flustered and apologizing profusely as they ducked around him, desperately trying to collect all of their paperwork.

well he was not just about to leave them like that, so dazai stooped to help them, only to find when he tried to reach for something they were quick to snatch it away.

the two made eye contact, both a look of surprise, as they stuttered out, “you don’t have to help— i dropped them.”

the reaction was rather cute but also he felt partially responsible, and because of this it became a game of who could snatch up what before the other.

“i— just— thanks, i’ll take those now!” the dear tried to take the papers from his hands once they were all collected, but the vampire danced around them breezily.

“why is toshiko-san so eager to get these back, hm?” he teased, flitting through what he had collected.

at first it was merely to poke fun, as he and arthur were known to do to people like poor isaac, but as he glanced over the notes and what looked like crude drawings he became intrigued.

those piercing golden eyes came up to a rather flustered person across from him, clearly embarrassed at having their work looked at.

“these are quite interesting,” his tone took on a strange seriousness as he handed them back, “what are they?”

even as flustered as the dear is, they take back their papers and shuffle them protectively in their arms, mutter a, “manga scripts and design ideas...”

of course the term was somewhat familiar to him, briefly recalling it being a rising trend before he died.

would become rather curious and invested in hearing about what the dear did in their time, finding it quite interesting that not only were they a writer but worked with artists to translate their stories visually.

ー LEONARDO DA VINCI

leonardo found it quite cute when he came across their little guest in their free time, seemingly distracted by whatever papers they had in their lap and strewn about them.

it was a reoccurring thing to find them like this as he wandered through the mansion on his way to his next nap.

this time though, that building curiosity of what they were doing finally seemed to reach the max and flood over as he approached them.

they did not seem to notice him from their seat on the floor until he was about a hairsbreadth from the side of their face.

“cara mia?” curse love languages not having gender neutral terms in their ear, causing the poor dear to jump out of their skin.

it was a wonder they didn’t headbutt in him the process and they all but threw themself across the floor to create some distance.

leonardo’s laughter was rather helpful to quell their panic, only for it to swift to a soft rage.

“leo— don’t ever do that again!” they scolded but by now the man had been distracted by the papers that had been haphazardly thrown in the dear’s attempt to flee danger.

golden eyes flickered over the pages as he gathered them up, some written over while other seemed to have sketches of what looked like persons.

they were quick to scramble back up to their feet and snatch the papers from leonardo, their face an uncharacteristically bright shade of red as they mumbled out, “they’re not ready yet...”

though their reaction and expression only seemed to encourage the vampire, after all, things that intrigued him he always pursued to understand investigate.

a soft hum escaped his lips as he looked down at them, only to snatch up another set up papers, ignoring the squeaks and protests to ‘don’t read it yet!’.

there was no getting them back at this point, as he used his height to his advantage against them, holding the pages high as he examined him.

and it suddenly made sense, it looked like a script and these little doodles were scenes from the scripts.

“quite creative, your story here,” leonardo handed back the pages to their flustered creator, “what is it?”

they hesitated as them shuffled the papers, hesitating for a moment before quietly, “a manga idea, something from my time, like a visual story.”

if he had not been intrigued before leonardo most certainly was now and he wanted to know exactly what sort of story they were making.

of course, he doesn’t push but he is more than willing to lend an ear for them to listen to the passionate and eager descriptions of their characters and, if needed, offer a suggest or two when they’re stuck.

ー THEODORUS VAN GOGH

having the lost pup new guest at the mansion following him while he worked was just a way to keep them out of trouble and help him out.

of course, he had never expected them to take such an interest in art as they had, marveling at every little detail, asking questions when they weren’t with a customer, and practically hanging onto every detail theo would spare.

he would never have guessed that everything they had picked up and learned from him on the job they were translating into their own work.

theo was never one particularly nosy and whatever they did in their spare time was their business as long as it didn’t mess with anything or anyone.

so imagine his irritation when they are late for breakfast and sebastian asks for him to go get them?

he walks in, ready to grab them by the arm and drag them out of their room so he might get the chance to enjoy his pancakes for a few moments of peace.

instead, he waltzes into their room finding them pouring over their desk with numerous pages scattered over the surface and stuck against the wall... and most any available space it seemed.

at first he was ready to ask them what sort of mess they were making but stopped as he began to draw closer and examine what they were doing.

it looked like they were... drawing? not that he would judge their strange style, as he was a promoter of the arts that were outside of the norm.

“oi, hondje,” he calls out to them, placing a hand on their head in a familiar way.

the squeak they make is almost laughable but he doesn’t have the chance before they recover and looking up at him quizzically.

“why are you awake so late?” it was a genuine question.

“late? it’s morning already, did you stay up all night?” theo is quick to shoot back, only to receive an even more confused expression.

that answered his question.

“what are you even working on that you would forget to sleep? i can’t have you dozing off at work you know,” he leans down over their desk and they suddenly get shy.

they are subtle, or at least try to be, as they shuffle papers and cross their arms over them, mumbling a soft ‘nothing’.

theo doesn’t take it though and instead turns his gaze up to the art displayed literally all over the room.

before they can even think to snatch drawings away he’s already asking questions, “did you draw these?” 

it takes a moment for them to respond, as they mull over a way to answer, but finally cave in to an explanation.

“yeah, i did,” they paused, expectantly staring but theo only waved his hand for them to continue.

“for a manga—something from my time, they, um, tell stories through pictures,” they explained, spreading out the papers on the desk again, “and i got an idea last night so...”

theo is thoroughly impressed, of course they have to explain further about the detailing and techniques— he’s going to ask after all.

there are times where theo will actually watch them draw, he likes to see artists in their element and this is something entirely new he wants to learn more of.

expect that he will have a sketch or two from them, would deny it, but he keeps it in the breast pocket of his coat.

ー VINCENT VAN GOGH

vincent found it quite enjoyable having another person at the mansion, especially with how they spent time with him.

of course he knew they were an artist too, it had come up one day when they were together, while he was painting and they seemed to be doing something in their notebook.

he had asked about their work and if they would let him see but they seemed to get flustered, so he let it rest, after all he wasn’t going to force them.

but still they came around to spend afternoons together, drawing or painting, in silence with the occasional conversation.

one day that they had stayed out rather late in the garden, vincent hadn’t noticed the time passing until it was too dark to continue.

as he packed up his things, he was talking, but got no response back from his friend, and when he turned around to check if they were gone, he found them asleep on the ground.

he felt rather back for not noticing earlier, seeing as the ground probably wasn’t all that comfort and that they hadn’t said how tired they were— he wouldn’t have asked them to spend time outside if they needed rest!

vincent was quiet as he approached their sleeping form, ready to gently rouse them as he outstretched his hand, but stopped as something caught his eye.

in the evening sun, the pages from their notebook were illuminated by the fading sun.

he didn’t mean to pry, truly, but he couldn’t help curiously picking up the book and examining the pages.

some were full of notes, others these beautiful drawings, and more still with a combination of both.

one drawing in particular had caught his eye, a series of scenes it seemed, of someone who looked a lot like him making his way to the gardens and painting...

“mhmm... vincent?” they peeked an eye open groggily, rubbing their face as they looked up at him sitting beside them.

“is it dark already? i’m sorry i didn’t mean to fall asleep—” they sat up, stretching, only to stop halfway through the motion when they saw their notebook in his hand.

they flushed red but vincent only smiled sweetly as he offered them the book back.

“i like your drawings,” he said softly, “they’re very beautiful.”

they were hesitant but took back their notebook, redder if it were possible, as they mumbled a ‘thank you’.

“who were the other people in your drawings?” vincent asked as he stood, holding out a hand towards them.

“uh, well,” they accepted and were pulled to their feet as they explained, “they’re fictional—not real—for a story i was doing...”

vincent cocked his head cutely to the side as he listened, “what kind of story?”

“a visual on, a manga from my time,” they explained as the both of them began to gather up their supplies.

on the way back to the mansion, vincent listened as they explained, he found it quite interesting that someone would paint out a story, but enjoyed the idea.

vincent finds the whole idea quite fascinating and often asks them about their stories afterwards.

they are still flustered to show him many of their drawings, but vincent is sweet about it each time, and has invited them to try painting their ideas on a canvas saying he would love to see how their style reflects.

definitely adores all their drawings, his favorite ones are when they do simple doodles of the members of the mansion, often claiming they’re not great, but he loves them.

absolutely reads their manga stories, whatever they’re willing to let vincent read and he is enthralled by the stories and characters.

[taeyohonic]

Zero Percent

Summary: There is a zero percent chance the Park Jimin likes you, right?

Pairing: Jimin x fem!Reader

Genre: College AU, Golden Boy!Jimin, Actor!Jimin, Group Project Hell

Warnings: swearwords, one scene where the reader gets groped without consent (obviously not by Jimin)

Words: 5k

Monday – 9:47 am – PoliSci lecture

Everybody likes Park Jimin. Not only is he the star of the drama department – making the Dean cry with his performance as Hamlet during freshmen year. No, he is also the head of the Environmental Club and part of the most elusive fraternities on campus.

Park Jimin is kind, smart and handsome. The guy is constantly surrounded by fellow frat brothers, drooling girls and you even heard a story about a stray kitten following Jimin around, resulting in him adopting the little cat.

So, you aren’t really surprised when he doesn’t remember you – you only share two classes and one lecture with him. It does sting a bit, though.

“And you are?”, the golden star asks, looking at you with friendly distance in his eyes.

“_______”, you answer.

It follows an awkward silence – all four of you staring at each other with unease. There is no greater hell than group projects. You’ve got no friends, or even acquaintances, in this course. It isn’t like you are a recluse. You just have a very small circle of friends. And you don’t have any desire to change that.

“Well”, Jimin begins and unlocks his iPhone, “let’s start with a shared google docs.” Now he hands his device over to the girl with thick rimmed glasses. She looks like murder and you are woman enough to admit you’re a bit afraid of her. She does start your 8 am lecture with an energy drink and cold pizza. every. single. week.

“We could meet up before class next week to divide the parts among us?”, the guy to your right offers and you haven’t ever heard him speak before. He usually just sits in class and doodles in his sketchbooks. The red one he is resting on right now is the third book you’ve seen him use in the last month.

Your eyes widen as his words reach your tired brain. Meeting up before class? Before 8 am?

The girl gives you Jimin’s phone and you add your contacts half-minded. There is not even a single crack on his screen. Is this guy even real?

“How about after class?”, Jimin suggests instead and winks at you. You nearly drop his phone when you see his left eye closing in mischief. Did Jimin really just wink at you?

“Nah, I’m packed till practice”, the guy answers and takes the iPhone out of your hands.

“What about this weekend?”, the girl asks and opens her calendar.

“I could manage Sunday afternoon”, Jimin says and stores his phone back in his jeans. His way too tight jeans. The jeans you’ve been staring at all through lunch today. He was wrestling for … uhm… fun with one of his brothers – Jungkook you think – and his ass was just… very present pressed against the denim.

“Sounds good”, the sketch guy says and the girl nods in agreement. Now all of them look at you; the person that did in fact have plans for Sunday. But you doubt they’d be very understanding of your self-care day off from the week.

“Yeah, sure”, you agree reluctantly and fish out your own smartphone, an old grandfather of Jimin’s model with many cracks littering the screen. Without looking up, you delete the do not disturb block in your calendar and create a new appointment: group project politics.

“We can meet up at the PoliSci library; I’ll get us a study room”, Jimin says and stands up – his tights directly in your eyesight. There is a hint of blush on your cheeks as you pack your things together yourself.

“Great”, the other guy cheers – way too enthusiastic – and departs from your group. His sketchbook is raised as he waves at you. You turn around to the others and they are both gone too. Well, what did you expect from a group assignment worth 15% of your grade with random people? Did you see Jimin’s back as he exited the lecture room? Maybe. And did your eyes lay a bit longer on his butt? It’d be a crime if they didn’t.

**

Wednesday – 10:03 pm – dorm room

“No way!”, your roommate shouts, her voice a shrill pain in your head. “Not the Park” You just nod, your late-night ramen hot on your tongue.

“How did you manage that?”, she asks and nibs on some seaweed crackers.

“Random assignment”, you mutter as you swallow down your food.

“You lucky, lucky bitch!” She throws one half-eaten cracker in your face.

“It’s a group project, not a blind date, Jisoo.”

There is a zero percent chance that the Park Jimin is even slightly interested in you. But then you remember his wink and you up your chances to three percent.

“Let’s get some beer to celebrate!”, your roommate suggests and totally ignores your unenthusiastic posture. The day was long – after working a shift at the kiosk on campus.

“I’m tired”, you whine, but your body moves as you get dragged to your feet by Jisoo. “My noodles”, you cry. She just rolls her eyes and pushes the warm cup into your hands. “Eat them on the way.”

You grumble the whole walk to the kiosk you worked just a few hours ago. There are so much more options to get two cans of beer at 10 pm on a Wednesday, but you do get a 5% employee discount – plus the 20% for being a student.

“Do you think he’ll invite you to the fancy parties?”, Jisoo wonders and swings your entwined hands between you. Your other hand holds your food – you want to save the rest up for drinking.

“Before or after I bear his heir?” Jimin’s fraternity is legendary for its exclusive parties. In contrast to most frats, theirs is known for the tight circle of invites. These events had a hand-picked guestlist, no cheap alcohol in sight. There were even rumors that Jimin makes all partygoers use reusable cups to reduce plastic trash. You do remember reading about this in one of the columns of your university paper.

“You’ll be fat after birth, so preferably before”, she reasons. You nod – true.

“I ain’t see any fat”, a male voice slurs and then you feel hands on your butt. You turn around, recognizing a squeeze before the hand leaves your body. As you see the guy who touched you, you feel fear setting in your bones. There are three of them and they do look very drunk. The darkened ally is not the most favorable spot to meet jerks. You can see the light from your store coming up ahead, but it’s late and deserted and they touched you.

“HEY”, Jisoo shouts and moves in front of your body. “NO TOUCHING WITHOUT CONCENT!”

His two friends are shocked by her loud outbreak and take a step back, but the toucher is still standing his ground. “Yo, be chill, bitch”, he says. Oh, he did not. Before you can even think about it, your arm moves on its own account. The lukewarm soup and the noodles splash in his face, coating his shirt and dripping on the cement. The guy’s eyes widen in surprise, but then they light up with anger. Shit. “Shit”, Jisoo whispers out loud.

And then Park Jimin is there, pushing in front of you. He creates a human wall between you and the three guys. His body heaves as he breathes in fast intervals. He must have run after he heard Jisoo’s shouting.

“Back off”, the golden boy says with a calm voice. His blond hair is so close, you are sure you can smell his eucalyptus shampoo.

“Hey man, this is between me and these two bitches”, the other guy answers, insulting you again.

“You’ve got a minute till my brothers catch up”, Jimin states. “Go. Now.”

Maybe the guy was too far gone, alcohol clouding his judgment, but he needs his two buddies nearly dragging him away from you. They whisper in his ears, half bowing to Jimin. “So sorry, man”, one of them says, clearly having recognized the star student even in the dark.

Jimin doesn’t react. Instead, he turns around to you and you get to look at his angered face. “Why are you two out here? Alone? In the middle of the night? Where is your rape whistle? Hm?”, he asks. You just watch him with surprised eyes.

“Hmm?”, he questions again, stepping closer to you. Jisoo stares silently at Jimin. She has never spoken to him but has always been a strong advocate for watching his ass during lunch.

“Uhm”, you try to answer and swallow the fear from moments ago down. “We… we-were getting to the part?”

Jimin just scoffs in your face, clearly not impressed with your fumbled words. “What are you even doing out here at this time?”

You are slightly intimidated by his presence, so your finger shakes a bit as you point to the kiosk behind you. “We wanted beer.”

**

You have no idea how this happened. One second you were assaulted, then saved by Jimin. Now you’re sitting in front of the store, waiting for the guy to come back out. Jisoo is sitting next to you on the steps, her elbows on her knees. Then you hear the bell at the door and turn around to see Jimin juggling three beers under his right arm and a steaming cup of noodles in his left hand. He comes to a still before you and pushes the ramen in your hands. After that he places two bottles in front of your feet and crouches down facing you. Jimin’s face has cleared and he looks friendly enough.

“Thanks”, you whisper into your cup. Jisoo hums in agreement.

“I called one of my brothers. He’ll get the footage from one of the security cameras tomorrow”, he explains and twists his own beer open, taking a big swing.

“Why?”, you ask confused and blow at your noodles. Jimin’s eyebrows furrow.

“What do you mean why? So, we can write these bastards up”, he says, and you gasp in surprise, the noodles falling back into the cup.

“You’d… do that for us? Even though you haven’t even seen him… uhm… grabbing me?”, you question in wonder. Why would he go out on a limb for you?

Jimin just rolls his eyes at you. “Of course, I’d do that.”

He is halfway through his beer when Jisoo decides to participate in this semi silent semi one-sided conversation.

“What … were you – you know – doing out this late?”, she wants to know in the softest tone you’ve ever heard her speak in.

Jimin’s hand combs through his hair, the thick strands parted by his fingertips. “I was on a date”, he answers casually.

“On a Wednesday?” Maybe not your smartest contribution because both let out a chuckle.

“Some people date during the week”, Jisoo snorts.

“Some people do meth, Jisoo. Doesn’t mean these are good life choices. Wait – Jimin… did you leave your date to…”

“To rescue two girls from danger? Yeah.”, he finishes for you and dusts invisible dirt from his shoulders. You roll your eyes at his puffed chest and eat another bite of your food.

“Nah, I’m just messing with you”, he laughs, “I was just on my way back from dropping her off at thes dorms.”

After that, there is an awkward silence. The three of you aren’t friends – there is no connection, common interest or shared anecdotes between you. Well, apart from your group project and his unborn son. Before you can start to ramble about the specifics of the – still empty – google docs he linked you in two days ago, his cell starts vibrating.

“Yeah?”, Jimin answers absently and collects your empty bottles to dispose them into the recycling bin. His conversation is muffled at best and you look at your roommate. Again, you hear the bell ring as your coworker Jaehyung closes the door and locks the store.

He smiles down at you. “Why didn’t you come inside, ______?”, he asks in greetings and gives you a quick hug. You hold your ramen in a vice grip – you’ll not lose your second midnight snack again.

“Jimin insisted he didn’t need the 5% extra discount”, you shrug and Jaehyung looks at you funny.

“Jimin?”, he wonders and steals a bite of your noodles. Is there even a god?

“That’ll be me”, the man in question responds and locks his iPhone as he joins the extended group.

“Ah, man… I loved how you absolutely killed it last week on stage”, Jaehyung praises and pats the lead actor on the back. You couldn’t agree more. You’d been there with all the student employees from the kiosk. Jaehyung made it his mission to justify the outing as a bonding experience and teamwork task to your boss.

“This one even had tears in her eyes”, he whispers in mock secrecy and points in your face. Jimin looks at you with an unspoken question on his lips. The actor stops studying you and moves his eyes to look at your coworker, who stands very closed to your sitting figure.

“Glad you enjoyed it”, Jimin mumbles and spares a small smile. “I… really have to get to the frat soon”, he starts, “so, … I’ll better get you two to your room now.”

Jisoo stands up in a heartbeat, dragging you up as well. He’s going to walk you home?

“Nah, don’t worry, man. I’ve got this!”, Jaehyung answers. Jimin’s face is blank as he musters the scene in front of him.

“I’d really like to know that you got back okay”, he reasons and looks pointedly at your coworker.

“Their dorm is waaay out of your way, man. Just let me handle this… It’s the same direction for me anyway”, Jaehyung tries to reason and you see Jimin’s eyes flash in frustration.

Jisoo is just looking between both men, not really sure how to react. Has Jimin an ulterior motive to walk you back? Does he even want to walk you back? Is it more than just soothing his conscious?

Maybe your chances of the Park Jimin being interested in you just upped from three to fifteen percent.

“Sure”, Jimin reluctantly agrees to Jaehyung’s plan and faces you, his stare zeroing in on you.

“Write me when you get home?”, he demands more than asks and you can only nod dumbfounded.

“Just,… let me give you my number so you’ll be able to text me”, Jimin reasons and stretches his hand out to get your phone. You look at him in confusion – you exchanged numbers two days ago during class. He was the one messaging all of you.  

“I… uhm… have your number”, you tell him. His eyes widen in surprise.

“Since when?”, the campus star asks and musters you in suspicion. Your face colors instantly, a deep red tone on your cheeks, as you realize that Jimin doesn’t remember you’re in his group assignment. He… doesn’t even recognize you. You feel so embarrassed, more so when Jisoo, too, sucks in her breathe.

“Uhm”, this is… very humiliating, “we’re i- in the same.. group for our PoliSci class.”

There is a beat of silence as you see even Jimin’s cheeks dusted with a hint of red.

“Ah, right, sorry”, he says and massages his neck uncomfortably. “I didn’t recognize you without your glasses.” Kill me now.

You just laugh and swallow down the bitter taste in your mouth while moving closer to your friend. Now, he thinks you’re the murderer? There is no mercy for your pride here.

“Let’s get going, ______”, Jisoo says, way too chipper and links your arms as she pulls you away from this disaster. “Thanks again, Jimin-ssi.”

“Yeah”, you agree and bow in front of him to cover the humiliation painted across your face.

Jimin bites on his bottom lip, all too tempted to reply, but settles for a swift nod.

Then the three of you walk away and ss soon as he is out earshot, Jaehyung looks at you.

“I have never seen you wearing glasses, ______”

Well, maybe your predictions were a bit off, maybe your chances with Jimin were no more than two percent.

**

Sunday – 4:32 pm – PoliSci library

“Should we… just start?”, you ask as Jimin fiddles with his tablet. You’re both seated in one of the small study rooms of your library. There is a half-empty box of chocolates between you. Jimin presented them with a shrug – they were a present he got after his last performance, the sweets a gift from one of his fanclubs… yeah… plural.

Other than that, there is your old laptop in the desk, some of the books from your professor’s reading list spread around the table, and an empty water bottle. What is not here, is the rest of the group.

You don’t have their numbers, Jimin being the organizer out of the four of you. His is the only number that is saved in your phone and was used last Wednesday. There was a small part of you – hell, who are you kidding? – a big part of you, that didn’t want to text Jimin. After the embarrassment died down that night, you were really angry. How could he? He winked at you one day and then forgot he even knows you the next day?

You wanted him to be ashamed; having him franticly messaging the wrong girl in his group would have served him right. And judging by the sheer joy this girl is, he’d have gotten an earful calling her at midnight.

But then you didn’t want to imagine him realizing he had the wrong girl. No, you wanted to be present. So, you texted him briefly and rescheduled the reveal for this Sunday, when he’d see both of you. And now you two are alone. Perfect planning, ______.

“You texted them, right?”, you ask for the tenth time and Jimin nods, picking one more praline from the box.

“Yeah, and I also called while you were peeing”, Jimin answers and pops the dark chocolate in his mouth.

“Don’t say that word”, you say.

“What? Pee?”, he laughs, “Be happy I didn’t say piss.”

“Now you said it too”, you whine.

“What else am I supposed to say, _______?” Oh, the right name; nice.

“Going to the toilette? Stepping out for a second? Leaving the room?”, you list and grab a sweet. The air between you both isn’t exactly uncomfortable. You’ve licked your wounds over the rest of the week and can see your partner for what he is, an overachiever.

He has much on his plate, so many appointments and engagements, it’s no wonder he doesn’t remember one of the hundred of faces on campus. So, you decided to forgive him… to a certain degree. The degree being, that a.) he doesn’t even know there is an issue and b.) your big revenge fell down the drain with your female partner being a non-show.

For the last half hour, the two of you talked, mainly about organisatory stuff like due-dates and presentation formats. But then you pointed to the box of chocolates and you both strayed into more private matters. You complimented him – again – for his performance and Jimin expressed his relief that he received all-around glowing reviews. He even shared that there was a casting coach at one of the stage nights. The golden boy’s eyes lit up, as he talked about the offer to sign a contract with this coach, who was one of the most in-demands in his profession.

“We could just divide the parts evenly among us and pick the ones most to our liking”, your partner offers and shares his tablet with you.

“I doodled with a few topics last night… what do you think, _____?”, he asks, and you look at his notes. Of course, his doodles look like your versions of an exposé.

Why does he have so much resources to prep for this meeting when he can’t even filter your face?

“Yeah, the second theme looks… uhm quite promising”, you say and move to enlarge his mind map. You’re sure the first proposal is just as good, but there were a few words that you don’t even know how to pronounce.

The two of you work productively for the next half hour, separating some key elements of the theory and choosing your own parts. Jimin – being the one coming up with the whole topic – let’s you pick first. You try to decline but he is very adamant.

After you added all your points into the shared document, the both of you pack away your things and Jimin throws away the empty box of chocolates. So much for a healthy afternoon snack.

Jimin is just happily telling you he’ll sleep in tomorrow because your professor canceled your shared lecture. You can’t agree more – having moved your self-care day to tomorrow instead. You’ll skip your tutoring session in the evening, so the whole day is yours. A smile stretches across your face and you hear Jimin stumble on his words as he looks at you.

“There is a party at my frat today, if you wanne come?”, he offers and slings his backpack over his shoulders. Wait… what?

“A Bangtan Party?”, you whisper-shout and look at him – the smile frozen on your lips.

Jimin looks a bit embarrassed as he sees your excitement.

“Yeah… I could set you on the guestlist?”, he say, a bit unsure. Your brain is working overtime. The Park Jimin wants you at his party? The girl he couldn’t even remember a few days ago? A mere group project fail?

“Really?”, you ask as you feel anticipation cursing through your veins.

“Really.” Jimin’s eyes are nearly closed, a bright smile pushing his cheeks up.

Maybe… Maybe your chances of the Park Jimin being interested in you are higher than you thought, now that he knows who you are. You’ll give yourself solid 20 percent. This party is one of the most exclusive affairs on campus, why else invite you if there isn’t some interest at his end?

“Cool”, you say, “can I bring my roommate?”

Jimin nods and holds open the door, closing and locking it behind him.

“I’ll see you tonight then?”, he asks instead of saying goodbye and moves away from you. You see Jungkook… and is that Namjoon?... waiting two aisles behind you, talking to each other in hushed voices. You wave at Jimin in affirmation and turn around.  

**

“Don’t you think this is way too short?”, you ask – your insecurity slipping right out as you brush over the fabric of your dark red metallic skirt. Jisoo and you have been getting ready for the last few hours, which entailed not only some very hairspray-intense styling but also a tree diagram being constructed on the back of your pre-game nachos. Your roommate collected and rated every clue you gave her regarding the Park Jimin mystery – of course only after she squealed for a good minute.

“No touching my stuff”, Jisoo scolds and knocks away your fidgeting hands. She added ten percent to your prediction because she upvoted him rescuing you – and staring at Jaehyung in frustration – way higher than his misjudgment of forgetting your name and face. Even thought you pointed out that Jimin was on a date clearly indicating he maybe isn’t even emotional available.

“Your stuff is on my body, though”, you argue as both of you walk to the frat house. Their house isn’t that far off campus but it still is a 20 minute walk. You’ve got your pepper spray with you this time even if you left your rape whistle at home. There are few students out this evening, tomorrow being Monday making most of them stay in tonight. Before you can take the last turn do that their house comes into view, there is a person calling your name from behind.

You look and see the sketchbook guy from your group project jogging towards you. Jisoo looks at you questionably, not recognizing him. There is suppressed anger on your face and you try really hard not to be too mean to the person who left you and Jimin waiting today.

“Yeah?”, you ask and look at the slightly out of breath guy now in front of you. He’s got a gym bag over his shoulders, his running shoes still on his feet.

“Good workout today?”, you add with slight sarcasm in your voice. There seems to be a slight issue in translation because he just smiles wider at you as he gives you a small bow.

“Thanks to you, of course”, he answers, and you are this close to hitting a person today.

“What?”, you hiss and try to control your anger. This useless excuse of a PoliSci major will not lower your standards. Now the guy looks at you with a puzzled expression on his face – clearly not expecting you to me so hostile.

“You know? Yo- you and Jimin offering to do the selecting and dividing by yourselves really helped me out today.” Come again?

“What?”, you repeat this time without venom in your voice. His face moves to the side as he musters you carefully.

“Uhm… Jimin called on Thursday… telling us not to bother coming on Sunday”, he explains slowly as if you’re the dumb one. Jimin did what?

“What?”, you ask for a third time and now he and Jisoo look at you with worry.

“He.. he.. I mean Jimin – he mentioned that you two were totally fine with doing it alone… Mina and I offered to finalize and proofread the presentation in return”, he continues and you are just confused. So, so confused.

Why would Jimin lie to them – and to you?

“Ehm.. I’m sorry…”, you look at him sheepishly. He seems to understand and adds “Wobin”.

“Yeah, right… Wobin… this is a huge misunderstanding … let me – uhm talk to Jimin”, you say, the confusion slowing down your word flow.

Wobin looks at Jisoo in question and she just shrugs. “You’re staying with her?”, he asks her and she nods. “We haven’t had that much to drink… I think she just needs a minute. Thanks tough, Wobin”, Jisoo calmly states and your partner leaves with an uncertain wave.

“_______?”, another voice joins – because why not make it a whole convention here on the sidewalk literarily five minutes away from your destination. You turn to the male voice and see non other than Jungkook walking towards you with hurried steps.

“Hmm?”, you answer, still reeling from the confession mere minutes ago.

“What are you doing out here alone by yourselves?”, he questions as he catches up. Jisoo is frozen next to you – even tough Jimin is without question the hottest guy at your university, Jungkook is by far the most dangerous. Combined, they are lethal.

“We were just on our way to your house”, you offer and point in the direction of the frat.

“Yeah, I get that”, he says, “but why are you out here alone?”

“You can see Jisoo, right?”, you ask, not sure of anything tonight and look at your roommate.

Jungkook scoffs and shakes his head – clearly not impressed.

“After last Wednesday you’re still walking around alone at night?”, he wants to know. Last Wednesday? Wait how does he know about that?

“Who told you?”

Now Jungkook looks as worried as Wobin before. “Jiminie told me? Hadn’t I stayed longer at practice I would have been with him when he found you.”

“Practice?”, you ask.

“Yeah,… we’re preparing a inprov show to celebrate the anniversary of the drama department, you know?”, he explains and adds after he sees your expression: “Hasn’t Jimin mentioned anything?”

No, Jimin did in fact not mention he wasn’t actually leaving from a date but a late-night practice that day.

“He has been wreaking havoc since that night”, Jungkook shares. “Every brother had to sign up to cover a shift patrolling common paths during school nights.”

Now, he points at himself. “Today is my night so I’ll escort you to our mansion.”

Jisoo just looks at him like he grew a second head.

“You’re pepping for an improvisation show?”, she asks slowly as the three of you begin to walk.

This is the thing Jisoo has a problem with? Really? You feel your head spin while you try to make sense of the last two encounters.

Jimin didn’t go on a date last Wednesday. Jimin himself uninvited your partners from todays meeting. You shared chocolates with a liar.

“Wait… Jungkook?”, you ask not even looking at him. “Do you guys get a lot of gifts after your performances?” The student just laughs and shakes his head.

“Nah, we’re not allowed to anymore. The presents were getting out of hands. I mean… Seokjin-hyung even got a gold bar once, a fucking gold bar.”

You speed up your steps as you see the frat house in front of you, few people mingling around the entrance. There is a guy standing at the door and you’re trying to get your student ID out of the bag – your thoughts making your hands shake.

Jungkook comes up behind you and just shoves you inside, saluting the other guy with a cheeky grin. You don’t have much time taking in the décor, but you do notice how small the group of students are mingling around the living room. There is soft R&B playing from a stereo and you see the infamous reusable cups full of alcoholic mixtures.

And then you see Jimin, how ridged he is standing in front of the fireplace, bottled water in hand. His eyes zero in on you and the blooming smile quickly freezes when he notices your disheveled state. You step around some guys on the couch, making your way towards him. He places his water on the mantlepiece.

“______”, he greets you and you hear the tension in his voice. He knows, you know – maybe not how much, but Jungkook trailing behind you with a guilty look tells him that you know enough.

“Jimin”, you start, completely unsure which lie you should focus on, your brain jumping around in circles.

“______”, he whispers and takes a step closer to you.

“Jimin”, you try again to form a coherent sentence.

Before his lips meet yours in a shy confession, you think to yourself:

Maybe there is a 99 percent chance of Park Jimin being interested in you.

________

there is... no logical explanation for this story, other than me having war flashbacks while thinking about group projects at university. did you enjoy this oneshot? Please tell me if you find this Jimin as "perfect" as I did (apart from manipulating the OC). did/do you have similar experiences with group work? I always hated it. with a passion. thanks for reading and feel yourself hugged (if you want to) from, dana

[wonder-womans-ex]

Curtain Call

Act One, Scene Five 

Sirius knows he’s petty. Extremely so. Petty enough to send the elevator all the way down to the ground floor so that Remus has to either take the stairs or wait, at least.

What Remus said is still wheeling in his mind. Remus kissed someone else. It hurts, yeah, but he’ll put on his brave face. He’ll move on. 

The thing that hurts most—the thing he can’t ignore or get over—is that he’s not sure whether he’s more upset that Remus cheated, more upset that Remus dumped him, or more upset that Remus didn’t give him the chance to break it off. Remus should have owned up to it, and he should have given Sirius that choice. It’s like he said when before he left the staff room—maybe he would have ended things, maybe he wouldn’t have. 

He should have at least had the option to break Remus’s heart like Remus broke his, but instead Remus just broke his twice. 

Sure enough, Remus is five minutes late to the seminar, and Sirius knows that Lily’s pissed. What he doesn’t know is whether she’s pissed at Remus, or if she’s figured out that Sirius is the reason behind the delay and is pissed at him. She seems the type to just know these things. 

He’s pretty sure he’s not imagining her glare in his direction when she says, “We’ll start in a minute or two; John will be back by then with the papers we need for today’s lecture,” but he decides to ignore it. After all, if there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s ignoring his problems. 

Well, and running away from them. It depends on the day and what mood he’s in. 

He also doesn’t miss the fact that when Remus does return, he pulls the classic ‘take one and pass it on’ instead of handing out the papers one by one. It’s probably so that he doesn’t have to look Sirius in the face. 

When the stack reaches him, Sirius has to reach back a whole row of seats to get to the next person. He almost tips over in his chair, but manages to save himself a sore tailbone—and a whole lot of embarrassment—at the last minute. 

The page is split into five sections: theme, topic, setting, characters, and story objective. He remembers, vaguely, learning some of this in grade seven, but that’s where his memory blanks. (What the everloving fuck is a story objective?)

Apparently he’s about to find out. 

Lily claps her hands together in an incredibly teacher-like way. If he didn’t know better, he would have a hard time believing this is the same woman who so aggressively played matchmaker (or maybe she was actually trying to drive them further away from each other; thinking back on it, Sirius can’t actually tell) only a few minutes before. “Well,” she says, addressing the room at large, “who can tell me what a theme is?”

There are a few raised hands, and she calls on the boy just behind Sirius, with chocolate-brown hair and more freckles than he can count. “It’s what the story is about. But like, in an abstract way.”

“Very good.” Lily takes a whiteboard marker out of her jeans pocket. Turning to the board, she draws a T-table, labeling one side theme and the other topic. Under the first heading, she writes abstract, and, across from it, concrete. 

“Theme and topic are often confused, because they’re both what a story is about. But—what’s your name?”

“Benjy. Benjy Fenwick,” says the freckled boy. 

“But Benjy here has hit the nail on the head. The difference between theme and topic is that a theme is abstract—a concept, or an idea, or a feeling—while a topic is concrete—such as a person, place, thing, or event….”

Sirius begins to zone out. Absentmindedly, he grabs a pencil and begins sketching on the smooth, polished wood of his desk. A circle, an oval, a line here and there, some shading—slowly, his doodle begins to take shape. By the time Lily says, “Now, who can give me some examples of a good story theme?” and people start calling out their answers, he’s perfected the glint in his anime-style eye. 

“One last one. How about you, by the back, with the Blue Jays shirt?”

(Of course she’s pretending she doesn’t know his name. Lucky him—he’s always wanted to be demoted back to ‘hey, you.’)

His head jerks up. “Uh, relationships,” he says, because he’s a walking cliche and, yes, of course that’s the only thing on his mind. Why wouldn’t it be?

“There’s an interesting one.” She adds it to the board, right underneath hardship, pressing hard enough that the nib of the pen squeaks. “It could technically be counted as a topic, too, but it works well as a theme.”

There’s a pause as she looks around, seemingly searching for a suitable place to put her pen. Finally, she gives up, tucking it behind her ear. 

“What I want everyone to do now is think carefully about what theme they want to write about. You can pick as many as you want, and you can add more later, but it’s easiest to focus on just two or three. You can pick one of the ones we came up with here, or it can be something totally different, but make sure it’s something that speaks to you.”

Her words resonate in Sirius’s mind. Something that speaks to him? He starts to write, his large printing cramped in the tiny box, and he gets halfway through the second C before he erases it again. He has to think for a minute. He doesn’t want to write about success, not when there’s so little of it in his life right now, but he doesn’t want to write about something dark, like suffering, either.

Loss, he puts down with finality. On second thought, he adds healing. And then, just because he feels like it, friendship. 

The clock on the wall says they have twelve more minutes before they’re finished; he wonders what else they’ll do before the class ends. Right now, the only sound in the room is the quiet scratching of pencils—soothing, he must admit, even though he personally prefers the excitement of applause—and it seems as though he’s the only one who’s finished. 

He lets himself look around, his eyes flickering from the clock to the whiteboard to the person sitting to his left. They dart to the door at the other side of the hall, and forward to where Remus is... staring right back at him. 

The two lock eyes for a good fifteen seconds before Remus lowers his gaze to the floor. It’s not much of a victory, Sirius knows, but it’s a victory nonetheless.

So why doesn’t it feel like one?

There’s not time to burrow any deeper into his own thoughts, however, because Lily is writing once more on the board. Unfortunately for him, he can’t see what she’s written—even when she turns around—because her head is in the way. 

“I assume most of you have your themes, and even if you don’t, you can always come back to it. Right now, we’re going to move onto topic—surprise surprise, also what the story is about, but this time on a more concrete scale. Let’s take Romeo and Juliet, for instance, because I’m fairly sure it’s a story we all know. Does anyone have any idea what the topic is?”

Silence. 

Sirius, usually the self-aware one in any situation (but apparently not this one), knows there are two possible reasons as to why he raises his hand. Unfortunately, he does not know which of them it is. The first is simple—he’s confident has the answer, and he wants to share it. The second is both a little more complex and a little more likely, and that is that he doesn’t know what the answer is and maybe, just maybe, he wants to prove to Remus he’s not afraid to take risks. 

Either way, his tentative “Love?” is declared—spoiler alert—incorrect. 

“Wrong,” Lily says. “Love is a theme, not a topic. Try again.”

Well, he wasn’t expecting a second chance. (It seems he only ever gets them when he’s unprepared.) (Maybe there’s a lesson in that.)

“Um… people in love?” If the first answer wasn’t right, this one won’t be either. He knows that. But it is, frankly, all he can come up with. 

“Ding-a-ling-a-ling,” Lily deadpans, which actually sounds a little funny in that accent of hers. He’s not going to mention that, though, because he’s on pretty thin ice already where she’s concerned. “Correct. Yes, maybe they sound like basically the same thing, but they’re not. The way I like to put it is this: if you can draw a picture of it, chances are it’s the topic. If you can’t, chances are it’s the theme.” After a moment, she adds, “I probably should have said that at the beginning. Whatever.” 

This causes Remus’s lips to twitch up into a smile. In fact, it’s only just now that Sirius realizes he’s watching Remus at all—he could have sworn he stopped—and he forces himself to look away. 

But he really can’t deny it any longer. He really can’t deny that that little smile, happy and pure with just a hint of mischief, still makes his heart pound and his brain turn to mush. He really can’t deny that despite everything—despite the breakup, and the recent confession, and the promises made late at night that he’s getting over this, he really is…

He’s still in desperate, painful, middle-grade YA novel love with Remus/John/does-it-really-matter-what-his-name-is Lupin. 

[thephantomofthe-internet]

Chapter 6: A Room with a View

Steve Harrington x Reader

CATCH UP ON THE SERIES HERE

Words: 3,359

Warnings: Swearing, slut shaming, death mention, crying

Author’s Note: So, I already answered this, but just in case anyone missed it: I update this series weekly and I am still editing the vast majority of chapters! Sorry if it’s coming out slower than expected!

Tags: @divinity-deos @wolfish-willow​ @scoopsohboi​ @thecaptainsgingersnap​ @herre-gud-nej​ @clockworkballerina​ @maddie1504​ @i-am-trash-so-much-its-scary​ @buckysarge​ @wildcvltre​ @stanleyyelnatsiii​ @n3wtscaseofniffler5​ @peterparxour @linkispink1995​ @a-big-ball-of-idk​ @used-avocado​ @mochminnie​ @sledgy14​ @the-creative-lie​ @yall-wildin-like-siriusly​ @ggclarissa​ @voidnarnia​ @anonymousonion23 

Steve had no idea what he’d done wrong. Not a clue. But you were ignoring him. You sat farther away from him in English the past two days, and you’d been blowing off plans with him. You’d say that you had other plans, but he’d see you sat on the bleachers after school, watching the girls soccer practise or drawing in that book again. He still didn’t know what you were doing in that book and he was irritated by the fact that he could see you sat in your room some days, caught in a lie without knowing it, your nose caught in the pages in front of you, pencil in between your teeth, focused but unaware of an audience. Steve could see right into your room from his when your curtains were open and you often sat at your desk, working in your pads.

On the day that Mr. Lawrence announced the start for the final essay, Steve had had enough. It had been a week of this behaviour and he felt as though he deserved an answer. And he was sick of watching through the window. Tommy and Carol were busy every damn day chasing Billy Hargrove, Vicki had gone back after him too after their awful date, and Tina wasn’t his friend. Sure, he could bug Dustin, but that made him feel like such a loser. His only friends were a rag tag group of preteens and a weird girl who wouldn’t even talk to him! This was getting pathetic.

The bell rang before Steve could make his move and you were out the door before he could even open his mouth. Tina rolled her eyes as she passed him by, grabbing Tina’s arm to whisper loudly “God, how tragic.” making Vicki cackle loudly.

Steve booked it out the door, scanning the halls for you, but you’d already disappeared from sight. He spotted Samantha, but she was on the retreat. He chose not to chase her down, they’d never even had a conversation before and using her to try to get her to spill on her friend felt a bit shitty. So he decided to just take a walk, no harm in a walk, it was a nice day anyway, out by the field. He wandered out the gym doors by the car park. He shoved his hands into his blue workman’s jacket. The weather was still a bit too chilly to go without a coat, but the sunshine made it easier.

He spotted you and Samantha at the top of the bleachers. You had your hair up that day and your lavender bomber jacket draped around your shoulders. Carol had something similar, or maybe it was Tina, he couldn’t remember which one the pair blurred into one being in his mind.

Samantha caught Steve’s eye before you did. She leaned over to you with a smirk “Lover boy’s watching.” She whispered cheekily, pointing slyly at him.

You turned immediately. Steve was standing in the car park, a few smattering of folks on car hoods, eating packed lunches and watching the scene go down. He waved, taking a step towards you. You turned your attention away.

Samantha was baffled. A week ago, you were telling her all about the weird fun you were having with him, all smiles and laughter, and now you wouldn’t even look at him for more than a second. You wouldn’t admit it, but Samantha knew that he was something more than a friend to you. Nobody was this upset when someone cancelled plans.

Steve turned away without a word. He wanted to scream at you, his mind demanding to know what he had done wrong. He made a plan that afternoon, one he was certain might ruin everything for him.  

As soon as the three o’clock bell rang, Steve made a mad dash for his car. He didn’t leave immediately; instead he waited to see an expected sight. Once he saw you huddled and headed for the bleachers, he was sure that the girl’s team was practising. Then he drove off towards home, parking in his own driveway. His mother was home, a shock to him, but he still headed upstairs. The next part was tricky. He’d time out that practise ended at four thirty, but that you usually left at four since the walk was so long. At four twenty, he headed across the street. As always, the yellow Volkswagen sat in the driveway. He’d rarely ever seen it leave the driveway, but it gave him hope that someone was inside the house. You couldn’t be living alone as a senior. He bounded up the front steps, knocking on the door twice. He was nervous, switching his weight from his toes to his heels in a rocking motion forward and back, forward and back.

An older man opened the door. He had to be in his eighties, with age spots speckling him around his eyes like a second pair of wide frames behind his tortoise shell glasses.  He seemed suspicious of Steve, although that was probably because he was staring.

“Hello,” he stuck out his hand for the man to shake “I’m Steve Harrington, I’m a friend of Y/N.” the man didn’t take his hand, staying silent as he looked him over.

Steve pressed on “I was wondering if she was home, we were supposed to study together today and she said that she’d call when she got home but I haven’t heard from her.” He chuckled awkwardly.

From behind the old man, a woman’s voice called “Harold, who’s there?”

“One of Y/N’s friends, she home yet?” he called back, opening the door wider. Steve could see the pale yellow walls, sun stained from the large three panel window at the front of their house.

Steve watched as an older woman hobbled into the scene, back hunched and skin thin. She looked frail, her hair dyed to what Steve assumed was its original shade, her grey roots visible from the top of her head. She greeted Steve with a warm smile. Steve was quick to offer his hand to shake, which she took carefully. “Hi, Steve Harrington, it’s nice to meet you both.” He said quickly, smiling brightly at the pair.

“Well hello there, I’m Maude and this is Y/N’s grandfather Harold, it’s lovely to meet you.” She said sweetly. “Why don’t you come inside, Y/N should be home any minute.”

Maude hit Harold’s arm roughly and he let go of the door, letting Steve into the house. He quickly kicked off his shoes, noting the pair’s socked feet. He looked around the house. Every house on the street was one of three standard box deals, with specified details. His parents hadn’t paid for the window seat like your family had, but you didn’t have the open kitchen that his did; an extra yellow wall separated the space. He looked to the fireplace, an exact copy of his family’s before their renovation last august. He missed the grey brick they used to have. You had a large family portrait on the mantle. You were sat in the centre in your Sunday best, your grandparents flanking the outside, two other adults stood closest to you. Steve assumed they were your parents. You looked like your father.

“You have a lovely home,” he said, turning his attention to the pair who were watching him intently.

“Thank you.” Maude smiled “Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Sure.” Steve wasn’t much for tea, but he was taught not to refuse something offered by his host. Maude hurried off, leaving him and grumpy old Harold alone.

“Y/N doesn’t bring boys around.” Harold announced when his wife was out of the room. Steve didn’t really know what to say to that, luckily he continued “So what’re you trying to do with my girl?”

“Study,” Steve said with a shrug. The man scoffed, but Steve pressed on. “She’s my partner for our English final, we’re supposed to be working on it today, it’s due soon.”

Harold nodded gruffly “Alright…” he took a seat on the couch, turning the volume back on. The Love Boat was on, a rerun of the episode with guest stars the Captain and Tennille, and Steve was certain that they’d both seen it before.

Maude came in with a tray, handing her husband a mug. It was hand painted, thick script reading ‘Happy Father’s Day’ on the front, the year 1974 written in smaller script underneath in blue paint. She handed him a plain white mug.

“Well, Steve, you’re free to go and wait for Y/N upstairs, her room is two doors to the right of the stairs, you can’t miss it.” She said, gesturing to the stairwell. Steve bid his thanks and headed up the wide carpeted stairwell.

Harold mumbled something to his wife that Steve couldn’t hear, only catching her response. “He’s young, he doesn’t want to sit with us old folks.” She laughed at her own joke and Steve smiled at their friendly banter. They reminded him of his aunt and uncle, they always joked in that sort of way, laughing at themselves before anyone else. It made him feel as if he were at home in the house; he was comforted by the casualness of existence.

Maude was right that the room was impossible to miss. The door was covered in childlike butterflies painted in purple puffy paint. When he opened the bedroom door, he was transported into a small, private art gallery. The room was covered wall to wall in fabric canvases, canvas boards, and paper sketches. Your desk was covered in paint splotches and doodles carved into the wood, there were glow in the dark stars and moons on the blades of your ceiling fan. You’d painted your ceiling into a buttery sunset. It was as if for the first time, Steve was seeing all of you. And you were absolutely incandescent.

His hands went to roam your shelves, filled with sketchbooks and art books and worn copies of the classics. Greedily, he grabbed the first black sketchbook he found its pages heavy and curled. A piece of masking tape on the cover read ‘Still Life, 1980’ in black Sharpie. He flipped over the cover. Every page was the same bowl of fruit, some plain sketches, some painted in acrylics or water colours, but the fruit changed in shape and structure with every flip, rotting more with each sketch until the image switched to a vase of sunflowers, a prim and proper version of the Van Gogh he’d seen a print of in his freshman year art class. He wondered if you’d been there, silently making your own master pieces. He wondered how many masterpieces you had hidden away in your big black book.

The door opened behind him before he could put the sketch book away. “What the fuck are you doing in my house?” you snapped, bounding towards him. When your grandmother told you that your friend from school was upstairs waiting for you, you had a sinking feeling that you knew who it was. And seeing him rifling through your things made your blood boil.

Steve turned slowly, unsure what to say. You snatched the pad out of his hands “And who the fuck gave you permission to look at my stuff, you pervert!” You knew that he hadn’t done anything actually perverted, but you still felt violated.

“I can’t get you to talk to me, I figured coming here would at least make you see me.” Steve laughed a bit, unable to even process what was happening. In the back of his mind, he thought that this would be an effortlessly cool way to go about a solution. Like you’d see him in your room and think ‘wow…what an effort that was…’ Instead, you were furious.

“So, you thought that coming into my house without telling me, lying to my grandparents, and touching my stuff would make it better.” You raised an eyebrow, shoving your sketchbook onto the shelf.

“What was I supposed to do? You won’t answer my calls, you won’t talk to me, I can’t get you to look at me for more than a second and all I want to know is what I did wrong so I can fix it!” Steve cried, words tumbling out of his mouth. You both stared at each other for a moment, surprised by each other, your mouth hanging silently ajar.

You closed it fast, swallowing before speaking “You…you hurt my feelings.” You said softly, pushing past him to put distance between you, standing next to your desk and the window.

“How did I hurt your feelings?” Steve asked quietly, watching you carefully even as you stared defiantly out the window.

You crossed your arms tightly over your chest “You cancelled our plans. For Vicki.”

“So?” Steve asked.

“So, I don’t cancel on you. I never cancel on you, especially not the day of. It hurt my feelings.” You explained, picking at a bit of lint on your sweater.

“Yeah, but I…” he tried to catch himself before he said something terrible, but you already knew what filled in the blank.

“What? You have more friends than me? Is that it?” you snapped. It was Steve’s turn to look away, but you pressed on. “You’re right, you do have more friends than me. But don’t act like I don’t have a social life without you. I do. Do you know how many games of Samantha’s I’ve skipped out on to help you study? How many practises she’s asked me to come and watch that I’ve said no to because I already had plans with you?”

“I don’t know…” Steve muttered. Embarrassment crept up his face. He felt like such a dick. In truth he had forgotten about your plans that day in the excitement of a date with Vicki. With hindsight in full effect he could see that he would’ve had twice as much fun with you eating greasy burgers then he did with Vicki driving around Hawkins.

“Well, it’s been a lot. And it’s not the fact that you went out with Vicki that upset me, you are free to date whoever you want. But can you please at least tell me if you’re cancelling a little sooner than mere minutes before?” you asked, your voice cracking on the end.

“Sure, yeah of course. I should’ve been doing that before.” Steve stumbled over his words to apologize.

“Okay.” You nodded “Now, why are you going through my shit?”

“I wanted to see more. This whole room is incredible.” Steve breathed, plopping down on your mattress.

“You think?” you asked quietly. In truth, you didn’t think that you were that good of an artist. You loved art, but you didn’t think you were exactly talented.

“It’s so cool!” you couldn’t help but laugh, or else you’d cry. Nobody ever talked about your art with such enthusiasm. Teachers only criticized mistakes and your mother and grandparents saw it as clutter. Samantha liked some stuff but she didn’t talk about it much. Even a simple compliment from Steve made you want to cry. You covered your mouth to avoid the tears.

Steve didn’t seem to notice, wandering the room to point out pieces he thought were interesting. He pointed to a canvas depicting the quarry. You’d camped out there one night in the summer; drawing until the sun fades out of the sky and then painting it out once you had it exactly right. “This one is just insane I mean it looks like it’s going to eat you whole, like it has teeth or something.” He exclaimed.

“You can have it.” You replied quickly.

Steve shook his head “No, I couldn’t I mean don’t you want it? For college apps or something?” he couldn’t take it, he’d feel too guilty.

You shrugged “I have enough stuff for at least three portfolios, you should have that one if you like it so much. It’ll make your room cooler.”

“Hey, my room is cool.” Steve pouted, making you laugh harder. He liked your laugh, it split your whole face open into a smile. And your smile looked as if it sat on a bed of clouds. He wanted to float along with it forever.

“Oh yeah, your pee wee t-ball participation trophy is real slick, it gets you all the chicks.” You drawling, bouncing on your mattress.

“Hey, you didn’t run when you saw it.” Steve shrugged, sitting down next to you.

“Eh, your baby sports escapades don’t frighten me. It adds character to know that you suck at something.” You replied. Steve thought briefly of the bat in his trunk and the weight of it mid-swing, connecting with a heavy skull. Better with a bat now then he was as an elementary schooler.

You both lay back on the mattress, staring up at the slowly turning fan. Steve turned to you “What’d you think of Vicki anyway?” he asked.

“Honestly?” Steve nodded “I think she’s a bitch.” Steve laughed loudly but you pressed on “She is! She’s so mean for no reason!”

“Yeah, she’s not cool. She spent our whole date bitching about people, saying a lot of shit about you.” Steve murmured.

“What’d you…” you didn’t know if you could ask how he responded. You bit your tongue before finishing the sentence.

Steve understood anyway “I told her the truth. That you’re a really cool chick and that she shouldn’t be such a bitch about people she doesn’t know.” He said simply, turning his attention back to the slowly moving stars.

You didn’t necessarily believe that he actually defended you. Still, you didn’t feel like arguing. Steve continued on in your silence. “So, do you live with your grandparents’ full time? Or do your parents just work?” he asked.

“Both,” you sighed softly “My mom’s not home very much so they take care of me. She’s a fashion photographer, travels all over the world for different magazines.”

“What about your dad?” Steve asked. He’d seen a younger man in the photo; he assumed that it was some kind of father figure.

“He died.” You muttered.

“Oh…” Steve didn’t know how to react to that. He wasn’t sure if he should apologize.

“She killed him.” You couldn’t help yourself from saying that. Anger still stewed into your bones whenever you thought about your parents.

“What?” Steve to fully look at you, flabbergasted.

“She worked him to death. She always wanted more and farther away from us. Trips to Europe, designer things, this stupid house. She killed him.” You wiped hard at your face, trying to keep the hot tears from streaming down your face. Steve didn’t say anything, he simply pulled you into his chest, holding you tightly into him and letting you cry. He patted your hair gently, trying to soothe you as best he could. He didn’t think he was very good at helping people in their pain. But you grabbed onto his middle and clung to him like a life raft.

“My parents aren’t that great either.” He muttered, unsure if he was helping at all. “They ignore me.”

“I-I’m sorry they do that…” you muttered, looking up at him with wide, wet eyes. Steve melted. He absolutely melted. He was filled with the sudden urge to kiss you, which surprised him. He didn’t follow through with the urge; he didn’t know how you’d take it.

“I’m sorry he’s not here for you…” he replied, petting your hair softly. He stayed with you like that for what felt like hours, letting you cling to him and ruin his shirt with tears. He didn’t care. He needed to be there for you. He promised himself that he wouldn’t hurt you again. That he’d be more careful and pay more attention. He couldn’t bear to see you in this much pain again. He knew that you weren’t crying because of him, but if he could keep you from feeling even an ounce of this sort of pain again, he would.

He cared about you too much to ever let you suffer alone again.

[mioumukuro]

What if?

Alright here we have a cross over between two animes:

Katekyo hitman reborn and Inazuma eleven (go)!

It's just a short scenario or scenes each of them has a plot, free to request!

But I'll include only OCS

Females only, unless it's a girl character X oc boy or a male reader

If you wanna an X reader text me in private message and I'll write one for you (sure if I'm not tired up with something)

The first thing popes in my head is this plot:

When he turns to a baby

You were with him doing (your favourite hobby). But he bothered you

So You accidentally you wished that he was a child letting you in peace,you didn't mean it literally but for your bad luck a stalking witch up in a cloud☁️ heard you.and make your wish true!

So how will you react at this ?and will he be like you wished or over control?

We'll see some reaction of some ocs I know

.

.

.

Let's start with Inazuma eleven go :

Character: matsukaze tenma

Oc:oki hina

Scenario:

he started crying when he saw a tall woman with long orange hair grabbed in a ponytail

You turned to him to see if something is wrong or to be more clear from where this noise come from?

It's impossible to have a baby (yet) you get married just few weeks ago

You wondered if it's a son/daughter's nightbors

(I forgot to mention that these scenarios are played in an island ^^')

So you looked around but what get your attention is the touch of a tiny grab

Tenma was grabbing barely a piece of your blue sky dress

You smiled at him and bent down ,

Holding his little body and pull toward you ,

Wiping away his shower tears, he looked at you confused,

You were also wondering how he turned to a baby in a snap of seconds?

He can't know neither you do

"are you hungry?" You asked

he can't answer

But you know in another way

He can't talk but he acts do

He was licking his index finger

His saliva rolling down his tiny hand

You put him on a sofa and go to bring him food

When you came back

He was still there sitting like an angel

He wasn't noisy or troublesome

You pull the spoon to his mouth full of fruity yogort

He didn't hesitate and open his mouth

You feed him till he pulled the spoon away

Like any baby his face was a mess

You took a napkin and clean his face carefully

He giggled

Now his belly is full

He pointed at a soccer ball

You look toward where he pointed

You get it

He want to play football!

You took him to the garden of your house and start playing

You couldn't imagine passing your day with a cute child like him

And still you miss his elder version,

Your caring,sweet,protective , cheerful man

Till the sunset

You forgot about time

When you realized it

You took his hand to enter your house

At your surprise you felt a large soft hand holding yours

You turned to see him in his usual form

You happily hugged him

Can't help but to drop some tears from happiness

Glad that your precious husband is back!

Character: tsurugi kyousuke

Oc:hyuga nanami

Scenario:

You were busy doing your hobby till you noticed some strange doodles on the wall

You thought it was your imagination but you believed it once you saw it whole the hall way

Who in the earth would do this?

Besides where is your lazy husband?

As his usual ,when something like this happen he would yell

But silence was the only thing claiming the house

You walked up the stairs to check up

Holding a knife in your hand

Who knows maybe a thief is somewhere in your house.

You can expect anything!

Once you unlocked the door of your shared bedroom

You saw what you didn't expected it to happen

Ever!

Your lazy husband turned to a baby boy

Messing up the room

Either the walls and floors didn't escaped from his sketches

You were about to yell at him but you couldn't resist at his cuteness

You bent to see what he is doing

He drew you and him with a red heart besides of it

"aww you're so cute" you said while you hugged him

It's true that he is not that cold like you used to

But still it's embarrassing for him

He tried his best to escape from your lovely hugs

But you won't let this chance go away

You played with him hide and seek

He succeeded in finding you every time

Not because you are bad or anything

You were hidden well

But he did notice your moves and read your personality before

So he knows you

Really

Really

really Well!

You pouted as he found you

You give up

He set next to you yawning

You know that he tired

Then you goes to sleep as well

You passed whole the day playing with him

It was a nice day

To see another side from him

After all this time

In your sleep

He returned to his form

Holding your waist

Pulling you close to him

Wishing sweet dreams for you

Character: Saryuu evan

Oc: Matsukaze hikari

Scenario:

As you always know your husband were climbing some banana trees to make banana's cake

Again

You heard a noise outside

You rushed toward the location to find

A baby boy with banana in both hands of his

You giggled at the fact

You found him cute

Extremely cute!

You didn't hesitate to take him to home

You gave him a lot of plushies

Every plushie you have you put it around him

He frightened and start crying

You struggles

How he could cry in this situation?

The cause of his crying was silly

He didn't find his banana's gun

"ohh that's so,I should know it" you sigh and gave him the thing

Once he saw it he clapped his hands and start making noises

As if he was shooting fire at the plushies

You sweat drop

Even his child version still he likes to control and scares other

You can't help it but to play as well

The interesting thing is that he didn't shoot at you

He was protecting you

Like a charming prince

You put your hands on your red cheeks

He grabbed your hand and drag you to outside

Still a kid but he jumped out of the window like a Tarzan

How fool XD

You jumped after him to catch him

Since you found him earlier lying in the ground

But he surprised you again by saving you from falling

Yup

He turned to his original form

You hugged him tightly not letting him go

Either not letting him breath

But not for long

As you noticed it

Now to khr's characters:

Character: Yamamoto Takeshi

Oc: Reka (xanxus's sister)

Sorry idk his first name so I can't mention

You were waiting your husband Takeshi to came back from his morning training

Of course Mukuro was coach of this trainings

Every morning he would wake the males and force them to practice some sports

So they can get strong

Anyway

You were enjoying the fact he is absent you can eat anything

What your heart desires

On your way you found his baseball bat

You hold it and swing it here and there

Imagining yourself playing baseball

And Takeshi cheering you !

How sweet~

But you were interrupted by a sudden knock on the door

Hmm

Who would visit you in this time of the day?

You don't have much of guests

Since you scare nearly everyone

Except some bodies

You curiously open the door

About to say some shitty words

Till your green eyes catched a little figure Infront of you

You recognised who he was

So you wondered how that happened?

But you get it

It was your wish

It doesn't bothered you

Cause you won't be embarrassed anymore

You feed him,play with him, having a nice long day

He even helped you on cleaning dishes

Still a small idiot baseball's lover

But he was strong enough to help you

You were glad

You couldn't stop watching him walk,crowl, jumping

He was just cute and adorable

AS you wouldn't imagine it

But you get a little mad at him as he broke your things

Cut your machines

But you forgive him

He is just a child

"how can I get mad at you,who is the cutest baby?yes it's you" you poked his cheeks

Playing with his cheeks as if it's made of slim (idk how to write it correctly so don't judge me)

When you put your hand on his cheeks admiring his cute big eyes

He turned back to his normal form

Along you gasp and fall down embarrassed

Character:Hibari kyoya

Oc:Atsuki sawada

Scenario:

You enjoy decoration a lot

Even Hibari was one of your experiments

He would leave every morning to escape from you ribbons and sparkles

Gladly no one saw him or he won't be scary like he is known

Today you didn't hear him saying his usual phrase "I'll bite you to death"

It's strange .

But you heard a collide of metals

You thought it would be Mukuro

Because you know that every time they meet no way that wouldn't fight

Their desire and favourite thing they would do

You called him several times

But no response

He used to sigh and came

You saw his hibird flying around

"Hibari Hibari...is a baby"

"what?" Was all what you said

You rushed to check up on him

He was sitting next to the mini table

But in a child's size!

You put your hand on your mouth

Not believing

He is not just adorable

But this your chance to decorate his black hair without worrying if would escape

Even if he thinks to do ,he can't

Cause his tiny body can't go longer than reaching the window

He was pissed off

As he saw the red ribbons and some make up on his face

Disappointed

Is the best word that would express what he is feeling right now

He didn't cried but he bited you

Even he has small teeth

Still it hurts

You slapped him accidentally

Then he sniffed and start crying

You gasped and gave him some candies you have but still he didn't stop crying so you kissed his cheek at this time he turned back holding you tightly.

[billyboymiki]

5 Works Tag Game

Rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and post or link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

I got tagged by @tippenfunkaport and @caramelaire for this tag game!!

I’m not one to compliment myself on anything honestly. Recently I remember thinking about how I barely drew anything this year. There was a part of my brain nagging at me to check how much I had drawn last year. So, I uh did. Turns out I drew basically nothing?! I triple checked this in fact. My DeviantART, Tumblr AND my camera roll. Nothing . . . I drew 5 very basic pinback button designs and that was it. I couldn’t believe it; but, it made be feel so much better about what I did this year. Basically my whole instagram is all artwork from this year, since I am actually really new to IG. I got super close to 40 works this year!

Now onto the works! They are in order of when I drew them 😊

Glimmer Inspired Patterns

I wanted to teach myself how to make patterns on Clip Studio so bad! I watched a couple of YT tutorials, and I can’t even remember why I decided to make She-ra ones specifically; I’m glad I did though! The Glimmer one means so much to me. Just looking at makes me so happy! The fact that so many people have now called it ‘aesthetically pleasing’ makes me feel as though I actually created a work that others could relate to. That was enough praise for me; to create something for myself that everyone else loved as well 💖

Glimbow Cuddle

This was my first real She-ra artwork. When I saw there was a Glimbow Week again I knew I had to join this one. I don’t know if anyone knows this; but, drawings take me forever to make. I used to be strictly a traditional artist and still prefer to draw rough drafts on paper. I couldn’t decide if I wanted them on Glimmer’s window seat or in Bow’s dads’ library. I was afraid of doing backgrounds; so, both sounded absolutely terrifying. I decided to go for the fireplace even if it meant fancy lighting on top of the background aspect. I think I actually spent more time on the lighting that’s hitting Bow than on anything else in this picture. It was worth it though. I studied how the show did backgrounds and lighting for a while. I tried so many different attempts at how I wanted it to look and ultimately went with this one! I love it so much 🥺

Bow’s list with doodles

Ah, yes the drawings I did for Tippen’s birthday!! I knew I wanted to draw a scene from ‘Tuna Cans’, but I was worried to try something like this. You see, I’m somebody that likes to stay in a comfort zone and only uploaded fully rendered perfect artworks. This year was the first time that I let the ‘fun’ aspect overrule my perfectionism. I’m so happy that I stepped out of my comfort zone for this, because I love Chibi styles so much. I can’t even explain the absolute joy I had drawing these. I didn’t tell anyone what I was up to, so it was just me laughing at myself for being an absolute goofball. The end result and everyone’s reactions were more than I could have ever expected. I’ve decided I’m going to revive this style soon as well so please look forwards to it!!

Space Suit Squad

Okay, so I cheated a little with this one! I couldn’t just pick ONE of the squad. Honestly though, I drew these with the thought of making them into prints in the back of my mind. I taught myself how to draw a space background and I’m really proud of it! So much in fact that the one in the final pictures is the first and last one I ended up doing! If I had to pick my favorites I think I’d have to pick Glimmer, Bow and then Catra. I LOVE the way I draw Catra I don’t know why? Maybe the eyebrows I’m not sure 🤔 It took me a while to decide on expressions and poses; although, I figured these were the ones because I could look at them and go ‘yep that’s them.’

Winter Glimbow

This one took me soooo long; I actually had to tell myself that I should put my pen down because it was done and I should stop touching it!!! I was sketching pictures in my sketchbook to make more patterns for my Redbubble account, and of course I’m like 100% Glimbow brainrot. My brain went, oooo you know what would be cute? If this skate was actually Bow’s and not just generic. So, I ended up sketching Glimmer’s as well. The heart that their skates make is like the cherry on the top for me, it had to be done! I’m not sure I did the background justice on this one? It doesn’t matter to me though because the concept was worth the effort. It was snowing here and I needed this picture like I needed air, even if it wasn’t even December at the time I posted it 🤣 I liked this one so much that I have similar ideas for the other seasons sketched out as well 👀

I’m sorry that I ramble so often. I’m like this quiet person; yet, it’s hard for me to get out everything I want to say? I’m horrible at it actually my brain runs at a hundred miles a minute and I’m not good with words most of the time. This turned out as more of a thought process than my actual feelings on each one I suppose. SO, in conclusion. I drew A LOT, I stepped out of my comfort zone, taught myself digital art and patterns. I let myself come to terms with the fact that not every piece of art has to be ‘perfect’. I drew at least 5 FULL backgrounds and I never used to draw them! I’ve also always been one for simple shading and lighting, and I do think there’s a time for that type of style, while other times sometimes a more difficult one might be appropriate. I’m glad that I did both because now I know I can do both, and they each give a characteristic that I adore 🥰 Thank you to everyone that has followed me through this journey, or just anyone who read my rambling! I have an honorable mention under the cut and some originals for anyone that made it this far! 💖

I’m not going to tag anyone; but, if you want to do this PLEASE do it. It was so great to reflect on what I did this year, it really surprised me and I think what you have done will surprise you as well! It’s been a rough year, and in the end we have been here supporting each other and that’s one of the most rewarding parts of being in a fandom! 💜

Glimmer screencap redraw

Another picture where I really tested myself on drawing a background! I love it even if it killed my hand!! The background definitely took the longest on this one too. My sister literally said ‘Wait, you did the background? I thought you just drew her?!’ And that was the only validation I needed!! I ended up thinning out Glimmer’s outline so she matched the background better. If you use the vectors on Clip please use this feature! You can do the opposite as well, it’s super useful!

Oh hi! Remember when I said I couldn’t decide between the two locations? Truth is, I also couldn’t decide if I was going to make it traditional or digital. I ended up getting really mad at the traditional version unfortunately. I haven’t gotten the hang of traditional backgrounds. In the end, I should have also done it in Copic and not cheap pencil crayons 😫

Just some space friends! There is something so rewarding about traditional art. Yes, I can see the mistakes and the proportions are most likely off; yet, it doesn’t bother me? I wanted to also show these bonus drawings because nobody is perfect and I thought some of you might like to see some of my process. Being able to hold it in my hands is something I will never tire of, in a way it’s super rewarding. I keep all my art actually and sometimes I like the rough drafts more than the finished work 👀 Outlining artwork can actually ruin the charm every so often 😔 I do really love the final versions of these though!

Annnnnd the last bonus!! As you can tell the final version stayed pretty true to my sketches! I almost went with a more realistic look and made the symbols ‘stitched’ onto the skates. In the end it felt like it didn’t fit the rest of the drawing unless I wanted to add extra details to the clothing as well. The wings on Glimmer’s skates turned into ‘Shwings’ PLEASE tell me other people know what that is? I had a pair a few years ago and misplaced them. I was doing the rough draft and it popped into brain and I treated it as a joke at first, until I gave it a proper chance XD In the end I fell in love with it!!!

[mikauzoran]

Marichat/Adrienette: The Rejects Club: Chapter Twenty-Six: Embrace

The Rejects Club: Chapter Twenty-Six: Embrace

(One day, I need to go back and make sure all of these chapters are on here because they definitely aren’t at present. -.-;)

“Does Plagg have unsupervised access to the internet?” Marinette texts Chat as they sit in homeroom, waiting for classes to start for the day.

Adrien blinks down at his screen. “I let him use the computer while I do homework or practice piano or whatever. This sounds ominous. Why do you ask?”

Marinette replies with a link which he forwards to Adrien’s phone before he can open it.

He is not expecting a Princess Noir comic. He’s not expecting to get sucked into a fictionalized version of his life where Marinette—or “Adrienne”, rather—is in love with him and he loves her and things are so obviously going to work out after a few trials and some tribulations.

He only remembers that Marinette is probably waiting for a response after he’s read the first scene—the balcony scene where Chat Noir saves Adrienne from being akumatized after her boyfriend breaks up with her.

He switches back to Chat’s flip phone where a string of texts from Marinette is waiting for him: “Do you think Plagg would do this?” “It’s pretty obvious that the creator was present to hear our actual dialogue.” “I mean, some things have obviously been changed to protect our privacy,” “but sometimes APlaggOnBothYourHouses lifts direct quotations from our conversations.”

“Yep. This looks like Plagg’s drawing style,” Adrien types back.

No wonder Plagg could doodle that chaise sketch of Marinette so quickly. He had had plenty of practice drawing Princess.

“I’ll have him take it down” After Adrien binge-reads the entire thing and saves the files for personal viewing. “and talk to him about acceptable usage of the internet. I’m so sorry, Princess.”

Marinette deliberates for a minute before she answers, “He doesn’t have to take it down.” “I’ve only read bits and pieces,” “but it doesn’t look like there’s anything too objectionable in it.” “You’ll notice that while Princess is an exact representation, Adrienne doesn’t look much like me.” “I’m sure it’s the same for you and Marin.” “Alya is obsessed with this,” “and I’d think my best friend would be the first to accost me” “if there was anything in there that outted me.” “If you don’t mind this being out there, I’m okay with it.”

Internally, Adrien does his victory dance. He will still be giving give his kwami the scolding of a lifetime, but he’ll let the artist continue. Maybe it will give Adrien some idea of what to do. Maybe he can plagiarize some of Marin’s best lines because, just going by the first scene, there are a lot of them in there that Chat has never actually used.

“Okay. I’ll monitor him. If you’d like, you can review the existing content and let me know if there’s anything you want him to cut out,” he offers judiciously.

“That’s okay.” Marinette knows better than to let herself get caught up in a romcom of her life. “I’ve already lived it.” “I don’t need to read it.” “Some ground rules:” “No explicit sex scenes or sex acts.” “Sex can be implied, but not depicted.”

Adrien nearly drops the phone as his brain plummets into the gutter.

“No nudity.” “Drawing me in a bra or swimsuit is fine,” “but I demand my breasts remain covered and my pants stay on.”

Adrien really wishes she would stop giving him ideas when he’s trapped in a classroom and going to have to focus on school in less than ten minutes.

“Don’t give away my true identity.” “That’s it for now.” “I’ll let you know if I come up with anything else.”

“Okay. I’ll let him know,” Adrien replies simply, trying to get himself to breathe regularly and not think about anything Marinette just typed.

“You okay, Mec?” Nino whispers from beside him. “Your face looks like a cherry.”

Adrien puts his phone away and groans softly. “I’ll be fine once I’m distracted. Secret Girlfriend has been unintentionally yanking my chain this morning.”

Nino’s concerned frown intensifies. “What’d she say?”

Adrien shakes his head, hiding his face in his hands. “She didn’t mean it in a suggestive way, but she was talking about…sex involving the two of us.”

Suddenly a thought occurs to Adrien, and he lowers his hands with a smack against the top of the desk, whipping his head around to give Nino a warning glare. “I’m swearing you to secrecy on this, by the way. Tell Alya that I have a secret girlfriend, and…” He lets the threat hang between them, unfinished. “I don’t want this getting back to Marinette. I will be livid, Nino.”

Nino nods, suitably cowed. “My lips are sealed, but…Adrien…are you sleeping with this girl?”

Adrien nearly chokes on air, and his face lights up red like a Chinese lantern once more. “N-No! I’ve…” He lowers his voice. “…never slept with anyone. She’s just…we’re not even together.”

Nino nods slowly. “So you’re not cheating on her by pursuing Marinette?”

Adrien shakes his head emphatically. “I would never cheat. Especially not on Marinette.”

Nino continues to nod. “Well. I’m seriously confused. Shall we drop this?”

Adrien sighs and agrees. “Probably for the best. It’s too complicated to explain.”

“So long as Marinette doesn’t find out and think you’re playing with her,” Nino warns.

Adrien gulps. He could explain his “secret girlfriend” away simply by showing her the texts, but that’s not the way he wants the reveal to go.

He reaches up to run a hand through his hair, but then he remembers the gel.

 Roll call is well underway when an announcement comes over the PA system: “Adrien Agreste. Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Please report to the principal’s office.”

Adrien looks up from Scene Two of Plagg’s Princess Noir comic and blinks in owl-eyed surprise.

The message repeats, and he can hear Marinette groan behind him.

“I’ve been here less than an hour, and I haven’t even done anything yet today,” Marinette grumbles as Adrien opens the door for her. “Thank you.”

They step into the hall, beginning their trek, and it abruptly hits her.

“Unless Chloé lodged a complaint about me physically assaulting you in the locker room this morning. Shoot.”

“Chloé wouldn’t do that,” Adrien protests. “She knows how I—uh…”

What? “feel about you”?

“Adrien, I know you two are old buddies, but that is exactly the kind of thing that Chloé would do. Getting other people akumatized, in trouble, and/or blamed for something that’s her fault are her specialties, and she kind of hates my guts,” Marinette patiently explains over her shoulder. “This reeks of Chloé.”

“Then why was I summoned?” Adrien wonders.

“To testify against me,” Marinette answers with a nod of certainty. “So, you do realize this is every man for himself, right? I’m totally throwing you under the bus and saying that you started it. Who would believe that you’re the victim here? You’ve got a full head on me and at least fifteen kilos.”

Her tone is light, and he can’t tell if she’s joking. It doesn’t sound like something Marinette would do, though, even if she were cross with him.

“But I did start it,” Adrien replies, confused as to why there’s any doubt surrounding the chain of events.

Marinette stops and turns to arch an eyebrow at him. “I kicked you in the shin and shoved you.”

He shrugs and keeps walking. “I was sexually harassing you. You acted in self-defence.”

“How was any of that sexual harassment?” Marinette scoffs, hurrying to catch up.

“What? You mean the way I kissed your wrist and your hair? Blatantly flirted with you? Called you pet names even after you told me to stop?” Adrien recounts miserably, revisiting all the ways he has messed up.

“Well, I was harassing you too, then,” Marinette argues, determined to take the blame. “I called you Minou and scratched behind your ear and rang your bell.”

“Princess—Sorry. Marinette,” he corrects. “I liked all those things. It’s different if the person you’re doing things to consents. As it stands, you’re only guilty of bruising my fragile feelings.”

“And your shin,” she adds woefully. “Is it starting to bruise? Does it hurt? I’m really sorry about that. I wasn’t thinking.”

“My shin is fine,” he lies. It’s still painfully throbbing. “You didn’t get me that hard. There’s not a mark on me.”

She comes to a halt in front of him. “Prove it,” she challenges. “Lift up your pant leg.”

He complies, lifting the right leg to reveal a spotless shin. “See?”

“I kicked your left shin. What? You thought I wouldn’t notice?” she inquires wryly.

“No, it was definitely the right one.” He sticks to his guns, hoping he can bluff his way out of this.

“I may be slightly ambidextrous with my hands, but I’m definitely right-footed. I kicked your left shin. If there’s nothing there, it won’t do any harm to show me that one also, right?” She corners him.

He hesitates.

“Don’t make me pull up your pant leg myself. I don’t want to assault you any more than I already have today,” Marinette coaxes.

With a sigh, Adrien lifts the other pant leg and observes with her the beginnings of a bruise.

“…That’s from basketball the other day,” he insists, voice level and impassive.

She shakes her head and whispers, “Sorry” once more for good measure. “Adrien, if someone ever hurts you, don’t hide it. Tell someone, and tell them the truth, okay?”

“I would,” he assures, resuming their walk and picking up the pace. He most likely wouldn’t. “but this kind of thing doesn’t really happen anymore.”

She gives a start. “Anymore? Someone’s hurt you before?”

“No,” he answers firmly. “It’s not like that. I’ve never been abused. I just meant…sometimes my mother had one of her meltdowns and slapped me—not hard,” he hurriedly amends. “Not hard enough to leave a mark, and she was always sorry for it afterwards. I was a complete brat anyway. I pushed her until she went over the edge sometimes; it’s not like it was unprovoked…. That’s all that I meant. No one’s hit me since my mother went missing, so…it’s not an issue. Father would never hit me. I heard from my mother that his father used to hit him, so…so my father would never hit me.”

Marinette doesn’t know what to say. It reminds her of Chat, and she never knows what to say to Chat either. She settles on a comforting sigh of, “Oh, Adrien.”

“It’s not like that,” Adrien reiterates softly. “I’ve been modeling since I was two. Someone would have noticed if I had marks on me often. It wasn’t like that.”

Marinette relents, unable to say for sure what it was or was not like without further evidence. “Okay,” she agrees. “But if someone does ever hurt you, that’s not something you hide and forgive and cover up for them, even if you do love them and want to protect them. You need to say something.”

Adrien stops dead as Marinette’s words strike a chord she hadn’t been aiming for, hadn’t even known existed.

“Adrien?” she calls, expression slowly twisting into a deep frown of concern at his sudden pallor and the horror evident on his face.

“Marinette, what would you do if someone you loved was doing something bad?” he wonders quietly.

“Talk to them about it and see if I could get them to stop,” she replies without thinking too hard. “Do they know they’re doing something bad?”

“I don’t know if they see it as bad. I don’t know if they understand the impact of their actions on others,” he mumbles, starting to walk again. “…I don’t know if I can ask him.”

“…Is your father hurting anyone?” she carefully begins to pry.

Adrien considers for a moment, even though he knows the answer is yes—mentally, if not physically. He knows many a Parisian has been scarred by Papillon mentally, even if Ladybug fixes all the physical damage.

“No,” Adrien lies. “He’s not physically harming anyone, no. Just…honestly, it’s not much different than his usual verbal abuse and emotionally traumatizing people,” he reasons.

A thought occurs to him, causing him to stop and catch her by the wrist. “Marinette, never work for my father, okay? I have contacts at other houses; we can get you an interview anywhere else you want, but don’t apply at Gabriel, okay?”

She nods, obviously taken aback by the intensity of his words.

He nods in return, satisfied, and lets go, moving forward once more. “I’ll…try to talk to him.” There has to be some way to get Gabriel to realize the magnitude of what he’s doing.

“But what do I do if he doesn’t stop?” Adrien wonders, terror-stricken at the thought.

“Is this something the police should know about, or something more benign?” Marinette holds her breath.

“Something he should probably be in jail for,” Adrien whispers, trying again and again failing to wrap his mind around the thoughts, “Your father should be in jail”; “Your father is a criminal”; “Your father hurts people”; “You’re not stopping him”; “You’re just as bad”.

“Is it unforgivable of me to keep quiet about something like this? I feel like…maybe I’m just as guilty as he is for letting this go on,” he adds in a small voice, letting her see a tiny piece of his shame.

He doesn’t know how he’s actually going to tell her. “Will you marry me? By the way, your future father-in-law is Papillon. Hope you don’t mind” does not sound like a wise idea.

Marinette hesitates. It takes her the entire length of his speech plus an additional few seconds to gather courage enough to slip her hand into his and squeeze. She doesn’t allow herself to think about how this is her crush she’s touching. She forces herself to remember, “This is your friend, and he’s in pain right now”.

“Don’t let your father’s wrongs weigh on your conscience, Adrien. If he gets caught, cooperate. Until then, talk to him and do your best to get him to stop and make reparations on his own where possible. I don’t know what your father has done, and I don’t need to know, but you are not your father, and what he’s doing is not your fault.”

Adrien sighs deeply, tightening his grip on her hand as if she’s tethering him to sanity. He realizes that his grip is perhaps a bit too hard and forces his hold to relax a bit. “You know, I’m really relieved that you didn’t yell at me,” he whispers.

“Why would I?” she asks, baffled and wondering where this is coming from. Where any of this is coming from.

“I’m a selfish coward. I’ve been dithering over this for a long time; this isn’t recent,” he laughs darkly.

She increases the pressure of her squeeze. “…I don’t think I’d be able to turn my parents in to the police,” she offers.

He shakes his head. “You would find the strength to do the right thing. You’re like Ladybug. You would sacrifice your comfort and happiness for others. You would do the right thing.”

“It’s not just comfort and happiness.” she remarks. “It’s your family.” She knows how important that is to him. She knows some of the personal injustices that Adrien has forgiven his father for over the years out of love and desperation not to let what little remains of his family fracture further.

“Try not to let it weigh on you,” she urges. “Talk to him the next chance you get. He loves you, Adrien. I’ve seen evidence of how much he loves you. If anyone can convince him to stop, it’s you.”

A fragile smile begins to form on Adrien’s lips as he gives in and lets her reassurances wash over him. He knows her answers would probably be different if he came out and said, “My father is Papillon”, but, for now, he lets himself enjoy the simple pleasure of feeling her skin against his, no leather suit between them.

His thumb traces lazy circles on her palm, and he slows their pace, greedy for more time in this moment.

They’re alone in the hall, holding hands as they walk, and he can almost imagine a future where she knows everything and chooses him anyway.

“I love…your friendship.”

He can feel her give a start through their joined hands.

“You’re really amazing, and I’m glad to have you in my life.” He says what he wants to say without really saying what he means. “Thank you, Marinette.”

“Y-You’re welcome,” she manages to reply. It strikes her how not over him she is. His words make her insides melt. “Anytime,” she adds breathily as every swirl of his thumb over her flesh makes her stomach flutter.

She briefly remembers Chat and feels a twinge of guilt, but it doesn’t last long because Adrien turns and smiles at her vaguely reminiscent of the way Chat looks at Ladybug.

“I mean it,” he stresses. “You’re extraordinary, and I’m a blind fool for not realizing the extent of how magnificent you are before.”

He brings their joined hands up to his lips and sends one of Chat’s smiles her way.

She gulps as he lets go and pushes open the door to the principal’s office.

“Ah, Miss Dupain-Cheng. Monsieur Agreste,” Principal Damocles greets in a too civil tone that indicates storm clouds on the horizon. “Come in.”

“Monsieur Damocles, if this is about what happened in the locker room this morning, I can explain,” Adrien leads in while Marinette is still off balance. “It’s all my fault.”

Principal Damocles arches a bushy eyebrow and inquires, “What happened in the locker room this morning?”

Adrien blinks. “Nothing. Why do you ask?” he questions in a perfect counterfeit of confusion, as if he himself were not the one to introduce the topic in the first place.

Principal Damocles gives Adrien an odd look but clears his throat and then presses forward with the speech he had originally intended to give. “I’ve summoned you both to my office this morning because Madame Mendeleiev has complained to me about you two disrupting class yesterday afternoon.”

Marinette and Adrien wince in tandem.

“Passing notes, having side discussions, texting each other,” Damocles enumerates, ticking the offenses off on his fingers.

Marinette frowns. She knows the identity of her texting partner, but whom was Adrien talking to?

“Running out of class faking a medical emergency to play hooky together,” Damocles continues sternly. “I have to say we are quite disappointed in you two, and we cannot allow this to continue. Miss Dupain-Cheng, you are class representative and should be setting the example for your peers.” 

Marinette flinches at the accusation, feeling the words heavily upon her shoulders.

“Monsieur Agreste, we’ve come to expect better from you. I’m sure your father will be disappointed as well.”

Adrien bites the inside of his cheek to control the involuntary grimace threatening to materialize.

“What do you two have to say for yourselves?” the principal intones imperiously.

“I’m really sorry, Sir,” Marinette mumbles, scuffing at the floor with her toe, eyes downcast.

Adrien steps forward in front of Marinette, as if to defend her. “I’m sorry, Monsieur Damocles. This is all a misunderstanding, and it’s entirely my fault. You shouldn’t punish Marinette; she’s the victim in this.”

Marinette’s head snaps up, and she looks at him incredulously. “What?”

Damocles frowns, severe eyebrows folding together. “How so, Monsieur Agreste? Please continue.”

Adrien takes another step towards the principal’s desk wearing a contrite and pained expression of acute embarrassment. “Last week,” he begins. “Monday evening, I told Marinette how I felt about her and asked her to go out with me.”

Marinette’s eyes go wide, and she nearly falls over. She finds herself once again wondering what alternate universe she’s temporarily slipped into.

Principal Damocles leans forward ever so slightly in interest and nods for Adrien to keep going.

Adrien grimaces, averting his eyes and rubbing at the back of his neck. He drops his voice into a disheartened mumble. “Only…she said no because there’s already someone else that she likes.” He doesn’t have to feign the hurt undercurrent to his lines. He knows exactly what it’s like to be passed by for someone else courtesy of Ladybug.

Damocles frowns sympathetically.

Tentatively, Adrien peeks up, looking thoroughly ashamed of himself. “Unfortunately, I’m having a hard time taking no for an answer. You know what spoiled rich brats are like, Monsieur Damocles; you’ve been dealing with Chloé for years now.”

The principal nods, a sour, knowing look making its way to his face at the thought.

“And while I try to do a better job than she does,” Adrien explains, “I still have entitlement issues. I struggle with the concept of not being able to have what I want, so I’m afraid that I’ve been driving Marinette up the wall all week, trying to get her to change her mind.”

Adrien is quiet for a moment before he lets out an enormous sigh. “I’m sorry.” He looks back at Marinette and repeats the words, softer and more like a caress. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing. I just want you to like me the way that I like you…but I guess hounding you like a fox isn’t going to accomplish that, is it?”

He turns back to Damocles and resumes his narrative. “Yesterday I was being particularly persistent. The reason she ran out of class was because I upset her so much she physically had to get away from me. Please don’t punish her, Monsieur Damocles. I’m the one in the wrong, and I’m really sorry.”

He looks at Marinette once more, and he doesn’t have to fake the regret in his eyes and on his face. “I’m sorry for Monday.”

Her eyes fly wide.

He knows.

Her lips tremble as she opens them to speak, to tell him, no, she is the one who is sorry for Monday. He didn’t do anything wrong. She’s the one who’s wronged him.

The words don’t come. All she can do is shake her head and start to tear up.

She might not know this boy like she thought she did, but, in moments like this, she knows she was right to love him. He may not be the person she put on a pedestal and worshipped for four years, but he is definitely someone she could well and truly love.

“I’m sorry for hurting you, Marinette, and I’m sorry for all the times I made you cry. You’re really important to me, so I hope we can find some way to repair our friendship.” He gives her a small, nervous smile as if unsure if his next step will find solid ground or thin air.

“Oh, Adrien,” she chokes, nodding emphatically. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I’ve been such a jerk to you, and then you go and do something like this, and…I don’t know how I’m ever going to apologize enough.”

He shrugs and gives her a patented Adrien Agreste wink. “It’s okay. We’ll settle later. For now, I’m just grateful that you’re talking to me in full and complete sentences.”

Marinette is tempted to smack herself in the face and hide behind her palms. It doesn’t take much tempting before she gives in and does so. “On Saturday, you implied it was cute when I stuttered,” she grumbles from behind her protective shield.

Adrien snickers, letting a little Chat slip into his voice. “Yeah, but it’s sexy when you look me in the eye, shove me, and verbally tear me to pieces. I like that razor-sharp tongue of yours.”

Marinette makes a high-pitched noise of abject distress and is only kept vertical by how rigid her body has become.

Adrien winces. “Sorry. I’m still coming on too strong, aren’t I?” He turns penitently to Principal Damocles. “I’m sorry. You see what she’s been dealing with all week? You can’t punish her. I’m going to try to get my act together and stop harassing her, but if you feel the need to give me detention or have a parent teacher conference with my father’s secretary, I more than deserve it.”

“No, you don’t,” Marinette interjects, finally finding her footing. “Monsieur Damocles, this isn’t Adrien’s fault; it’s mine.”

Adrien turns to Marinette so that his back is to Damocles and the principal can’t see his face. He puts a finger over his lips, silently urging her not to throw away the cover story he has constructed for her.

“Marinette, it’s not that I don’t appreciate it, but you don’t have to lie to protect me,” he gently informs.

“B-But…” Isn’t that what you’re doing for me? “He doesn’t even know why I ran out of class, does he? And he’s still…”

Later, she will site this as the moment she fell in love with Adrien Agreste the second time.

“All right,” Principal Damocles sighs, having seen enough. “You two may go back to class. Monsieur Agreste, consider this your warning. Don’t let this happen again. Miss Dupain-Cheng, if you continue to experience problems with Monsieur Agreste, I expect to be informed.”

“Yes, Monsieur Damocles,” they reply out of sync.

Adrien opens the door for Marinette, and they slip out into the hallway, Marinette collapsing back against the wall with a pronounced sigh.

“I didn’t mean for you to throw yourself under the bus,” she scolds. “Adrien, I was kidding.”

Adrien shrugs offhandedly. “It was a choice between both of us getting in trouble or just me getting in trouble. The correct answer was obvious. Besides, I’d say things worked out pretty well.”

She frowns, slowly taking him in in his black jeans, lime green t-shirt, and black leather jacket. He looks good in Chat’s colors, and she’s forced to admit that she’s still interested, despite her growing feelings for Chat.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “Thank you for doing that. It’s more kindness than I’ve earned.”

He rolls his eyes. “You need to stop beating yourself up. I don’t know what you and Chat were talking about yesterday, but it’s none of Monsieur Damocles’s business. I’m okay with him thinking that I was the one texting you who upset you. I don’t care if he thinks I’m a selfish prick, so long as you know the truth.” He gives her a smile fit to electrocute.

She has to wonder, “Who were you texting yesterday?”

Adrien’s brain freezes for a second. It recovers, and he smiles easily. “Chloé.”

“Oh.” Marinette nods. That’s an acceptable answer. “Well…thank you…Minou,” she tacks on as a reward and smiles when it makes him light up.

She reaches out and gives the bell on the choker around his neck a tentative tap. “You’re awesome, Minou.”

Every nerve in Adrien’s body is singing at the sinful things she’s doing to him. In his head, he chants, “Don’t kiss her. Don’t kiss her. Don’t kiss her. Don’t kiss her.”

All without breaking eye contact, he takes her hand and gives the side of her index finger a kiss that involves the slightest brush of teeth.

Marinette’s breath hitches. She may have found some of his buttons (touching the bell and calling him “Minou” are obviously turn-ons), but he’s got his fingers on her triggers too.

“You’re very welcome,” he purrs, nuzzling her hand.

Both Chat and Adrien seem to have a thing about her hands.

“I’d fall on the sword for you anytime…Princess,” he whispers the last word, kissing her hand deferentially and dipping into one of Chat’s bows.

Her breath catches in her throat as she sees double.

Twins. They have to be. How else could two people be more alike? But she’s already chased her tail concerning this theory. As much as it must be true, it every bit as much can’t be true.

Adrien straightens up and gives a look of concern at her silence. He lets go of her hand. “Marinette? I-I’m sorry. That was crossing a line, wasn’t it?” he sputters, once again afraid that he’s ruined everything. “I—”

“—N-No,” she quickly assures, shaking her head and scattering the tears that have begun to fall in the process.

One lands on the back of his hand.

“You’re fine. You’re wonderful, Adrien. I just…”

…am feeling confused and overwhelmed and pulled in two directions.

“You’re both so good and sweet and forgiving…” she mumbles. 

She shakes her head again. She shouldn’t be around him. He’s pulling her back in. It would be so easy to fall into his arms now that he’s finally interested, but…that would hurt Chat. Again…. Still. It would finally prove to her without a doubt that Marinette is still Ladybug, even without the suit…in the worst way possible. She needs to get away from Adrien and stay away for her own sake as much as for Chat’s.

“Sorry,” she hiccups. “Excuse me. I have to—”

She begins to make a dash for it, but she only gets two or three meters before she remembers the previous morning: the devastated, lonely, hurt look on Adrien’s face when she started to run away. The expression of misery that made her invite him on a picnic with their friends.

She turns back and catches the same pain and disappointment and confusion before he can hide it.

She’s hurting him. He’s done nothing wrong, and she’s torturing him for it. This has to stop. Even if it’s difficult, she has to suck it up and be there for both of her boys.

Marinette takes a deep breath and goes back to leaning up against the wall in front of him, even as her tears continue to fall.

Adrien quirks an eyebrow, looking like he wants to say something but is unsure what the correct thing is.

“I’m tired of running away,” she explains simply. “I’m tired of being a coward and freaking out and causing drama for myself and others. Is this okay? I know I’m probably making you uncomfortable, and I’m sorry about that. I’m trying to stop, but…” She shrugs helplessly. “Is this okay, or would you rather I go?”

“Stay,” he entreats. “I mean…Does it make you uncomfortable to have me looking at you while you’re crying?”

She shrugs again, wiping at her face with both hands. “I don’t care. I’m beyond caring right now. I’m sure it’s not very attractive, but I’m kind of over it.”

Adrien squashes the kneejerk reaction to tell her she’s always attractive. Somehow, he doesn’t think it will help. Chat is tempted to tell her how beautiful she looked in the moonlight last Monday with her hair blowing free and the tear tracks still fresh on her face.

“Not appropriate, Agreste.”

“I mean,” Marinette chuckles darkly, “you might as well get to see a glimpse of my ugly side.”

“I won’t hold it against you,” he assures. “I’m an ugly crier myself.”

She blinks in surprise. “You cry?”

“…All the time?” he laughs ironically, half-heartedly trying to play it off as a joke. “But don’t tell my father; I’m not allowed to have emotions.”

Her clear blue eyes pierce through him. “Oh, Adrien.”

“That…was supposed to sound more like I was joking,” he insists before she can get the wrong idea. “I’m allowed to have emotions.” So long as they’re ones Gabriel approves of. For everything else, there’s the privacy of his bedroom.

“Adrien,” she whispers, giving the bell another tap.

He’s made her feel sorry for him. Again. And the tears are still marching down her cheeks unchecked.

“I don’t suppose you would laugh if I told you how pretty your hair is, would you?” he tries. “Does that only work with Chat?”

She smiles sadly and nods.

“How about if you try imagining Chat naked? Wasn’t that one of the other things?” He’s getting desperate.

Surprisingly, Marinette’s cheeks flush a vibrant floral color. She looks down at her feet and starts spluttering. “T-T-That! That doesn’t work—um…” She gulps, getting her freak out under control. “That doesn’t work the way it used to. It’s not a funny image anymore.”

“Oh,” he sighs in disappointment and almost asks why not before it hits him. “Oh!” he yelps, his own cheeks lighting up. “S-Sorry. Right. That… Forget I brought it up.”

She smiles in embarrassment, fiddling with the lace bracelet on her wrist as she keeps her eyes trained anywhere but on him.

Adrien curses mildly under his breath.

Marinette looks up, startled. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you curse before.”

He shrugs. “I typically don’t, but this kind of feels like an appropriate situation. I suck at this. I’m bad at cheering people up, and I feel like it’s my fault that you’re crying, so I want to do something to make it better, but I’ve been failing miserably all week, so…Yeah. I feel like cursing is called for in this moment.”

There’s pity in her gaze as the tears keep falling. “Oh, Minou,” she coos. “You’re not failing.”

He wants to argue with her and recount all the times he’s actually made her cry this week while attempting to show his support and cheer her up. More than that, though, he wants to hug her. He loves her for fibbing like that in an attempt to make him feel better. It’s working for her.

An idea strikes, sparked by a memory of her kitchen last Monday night. He has one last card to play: “Would you like a hug?” he offers. “Would a hug help? Hugs do make people feel better when they’re upset, right?”

Marinette bites her lip, appearing unsure.

Mentally, Adrien curses again, looking down at his feet and feeling lousy.

She registers his expression for what it is and relents.

Perhaps she has no business hugging Adrien Agreste; perhaps she really does need to get the heck away from him for her own sanity, but she recognizes that her boy needs her right now.

“Would you like a hug, Adrien?” her smile is pure affection as she opens her arms to him.

“God, yes,” he whispers, hesitantly stepping forward.

It’s so automatic for Chat and Marinette to embrace, but Adrien and Marinette is an awkward dance of timidity.

He wants to grab her and pull her in, but he doesn’t want to seem desperate or make her uncomfortable.

She is busy trying to squelch an internal freak out about finally hugging her crush while simultaneously wondering where she should put her hands.

Somehow, they meet in the middle, and once their arms are actually around each other, both parties relax, surprised at how easily their body conforms to the other’s. Marinette naturally places her head on his chest, snuggling into the crook of his neck, and he gently rests his cheek on top, careful not to mess up her hair.

Instantly, the world feels like a more hopeful place because Marinette is in Adrien’s arms without the gloves and protective suit getting in the way. It’s so much easier to feel her through regular clothing, even though he is still wearing a leather jacket. She’s warm and soft, and she smells fantastic. The scent isn’t as acute to his normal human nose, but with said nose in her hair, it’s fairly pronounced, and Adrien is sure he could drown in it happily.

“Thank you,” he whispers, pieces of her hair sticking to his lips.

He can feel cold tears on his neck, but they seem to be falling more slowly now.

“Thank you,” she returns. “For trying so hard to make me feel better. Not just now, but all week. I know I burst into tears pretty much every single time, but I did appreciate your kindness.”

“I am never going to get over this boy. I’m going to break Chat’s heart all over again. I’m going to end up like one of those two-timing witches in the dramas.”

“It’s okay,” Adrien mumbles, giving her hair a reassuring nuzzle. “I have to admit, I feel better now that I know why, though.”

Marinette tenses. “Chat told you?”

Adrien mentally kicks himself. “Stop getting drunk on her scent and pay attention, Idiot. You’re two separate people to her, so keep what each one knows straight already.”

“Not everything,” he hedges. “Apparently I look like your crush…and then there’s the Monday thing.”

Marinette shifts uneasily.

“I’m sorry. If I had realized that what I said would get back to you, I—”

“—Stop,” Marinette’s words are almost inaudible, but he can feel her lips moving against his throat. Her left hand tightens, grasping the fabric of his mother’s jacket’s collar. “Don’t apologize for Monday ever again, okay? You were set up. I should be apologizing to you.”

“But…” He wants to argue even though he knows how pointless it is. “I feel bad for making a day that already sucked even worse for you.”

She shakes her head to the best of her ability. “I’ve made the intervening week between then and now hell for you.”

And heaven, he mentally adds.

“Not that I’m narcissistic enough to think I have the power to ruin your entire week, but—”

“—You do,” he confesses.

A silent “Oh” hangs in the air.

“Sorry,” she whispers.

“Don’t be.”

What he doesn’t say is, “I like it. I have a thing about women with the power to ruin me with a word.”

“Adrien, I’m kind of involved with Chat Noir.” She tries to break the news gently, but there’s no other way she can think to say it.

“He told me. You two are just going to be friends for now, but in a month or two, once you’re over your previous crush, you’re going to decide what kind of relationship you two want to have.”

“He tells you a lot of things,” Marinette observes, her heart beating in her throat.

“Do you think I could get a similar deal?”

“W-What?!” she squeaks, pulling back to stare dumbstruck up at him.

His arms keep her more or less in place so that their faces are still less than a foot apart, and he smiles softly, anxiety plainly on display in his eyes.

“We don’t really know each other well, do we?” he observes.

She shakes her head distractedly. His eyes are so pretty close up.

“But we could fix that,” he suggests, tone hopeful.

She makes herself look away and pay attention to what he’s saying. It’s hard when her body feels like pins and needles at every point where it touches his.

“Adrien, I’d like to, but I’m not really at my best right now. I’m sure Chat has told you how messed up I am at the moment. I don’t know if I can… This isn’t fair to-to either of us, and—I really shouldn’t…I shouldn’t be…Chat is such a great guy, and I can’t…” She bites her lip as she trails off. She meets his gaze with a lost look.

How is she supposed to tell him she needs to stop being in love with him? How does she explain the need to separate the real him from the one she’s constructed in her head before she can even flirt with the idea of dating him? How does she tell Chat about her feelings for Adrien? How does she tell Adrien no because it’s Chat’s turn to be loved and adored like he deserves now?

“You deserve better than this, than me,” Marinette whispers.

He opens his mouth to protest, but she covers his lips with her fingers.

“You both do. I’m sorry,” she chuckles ironically. “What a mess.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” he mumbles against her fingers and gives them a little kiss. “Chat told me you’re not dating anyone right now. I’m not asking you out, Marinette. Not yet. But…will you be my friend for a month or two and then make that decision? I mean…I’d like to date you, but only if you want. If you decide you just want to be friends, fine. I’ll find some way to be okay with that. Just…be my friend and think about it? I’m not trying to pressure you or anything; I’m just putting my name in the hat. Okay?”

She bites her lip, knowing it’s in her best interest to say no but, at the same time, seeing how badly he wants this. It’s hard to deny him, long-term object of her affections.

“Please?” he urges, beginning to fidget. “I really like you, and I know you’re not indifferent to me.”

“Did Chat tell you that?” Marinette grumbles through gritted teeth. She makes a mental note never to tell the chatterbox anything she doesn’t want Adrien to know ever again.

“You showed me that,” he corrects. “Saturday, when you were flirting with me. You wouldn’t have done that just to get information on Chat out of me. A part of you must be attracted to me on some level…at least…that’s what I’m banking on.”

She returns his sheepish smile with one of her own. “Guilty,” she whispers, her eyes tracking his tongue as it moistens his lips. “I’m not indifferent to you, Adrien Agreste, but I have to wonder when exactly you changed your mind about me. Didn’t you say last Monday that you had never thought about me romantically before? And I don’t think I’ve done much to improve your opinion of me between now and then.”

Adrien winces, averting his eyes and readjusting his arms around her. “Chat has told you about how messed up his life is, right?”

She makes a soft sound of agreement.

“Mine is too,” he mumbles. “It makes you really, really good at compartmentalizing. An example: ‘my father does bad things’ and ‘I love my father’ go in separate drawers, one of which I keep shoved in the very back of my mental closet behind all the Hanon I’ve ever had to play.”

His eyes meet hers once more, and he reaches up to wipe away the last of the tears. “‘Marinette is just a friend’ and ‘Marinette has eyes I could fall into and gladly drown in’ go in separate drawers. Just because I’ve never allowed myself to think about you like that doesn’t mean that I don’t have a mental drawer full of how bright your smile is, how musical your laughter, how amazing you look in your Princess dress, how kind and just and brave you are…”

He smiles bashfully, encouraged by the look of awe on her face but still embarrassed without the mask to hide behind. “This isn’t really as sudden as it seems. I’ve noticed you this whole time…I was just in love with someone else already, so I didn’t allow myself to think about the things I’d noticed. I’m serious when I fall in love. It’s all-consuming, so I only have room for one girl in my heart at a time. I’m sorry it wasn’t you first.”

She internally melts. If she weren’t already in his arms, she’d be falling in now. Mentally, she slaps herself. This is a trap. He’s sucking you in, making you forget about Chat.

“So…you’re finally giving up on Ladybug?” she inquires in a small voice.

His smile turns pained. “Yeah. I mean, if Chat can’t win her over, what hope do I realistically have? I was kidding myself this whole time. It’s not like a superhero and a civilian can have a successful relationship.”

Marinette goes rigid once more, and he’s surprised to find her glaring at him.

“W-What?”

“Maybe not you and Ladybug, but Chat and I can,” she snorts. “After all, Chat and I have actually spent more than five minutes together when he wasn’t just rescuing me. We have an actual foundation for a relationship.”

Adrien winces. “Sorry. I didn’t mean… I wasn’t talking about you and Chat. You and Chat will be fine, provided you don’t dump him the second you find out his identity.”

“I’m going to love him no matter who he turns out to be,” she growls defensively.

“Even if it’s me?” Adrien wonders.

She stares at him intently for a minute, a jumbled ball of emotions rolling across her face: anger, confusion, frustration, pity…

He’s expecting her to slap him or at least pull out of his arms and away from him, so he’s taken aback and stunned speechless when she leans in and places a solid kiss to his cheek.

“Even if it’s you, you idiot,” she snaps. “Now shut the hell up before I kick your other shin. Oh—!”

He knocks the wind out of her when he pulls her back in for a crushing hug. “It wasn’t just a celebrity crush, you know,” he whispers against the shell of her ear. “I’m not just being ridiculous. I need you to know that my feelings are worth something. The Ladybug I fell in love with isn’t the one on TV always saving the day. Not the perfect image she projects for the public. I know what it’s like to be loved like that; that’s how people love me, and I would never do that to her. The Ladybug I loved was Chat’s Ladybug: the clumsy, cocky, insecure, just-trying-her-best Ladybug whom I got to know through Chat. Ladybug and Adrien Agreste might not have spent much time together, but that doesn’t mean what I felt for her was invalid. I really did love her this whole time. Even though I’m letting go of that love, it was still real,” he insists with an intensity and desperation that get across what Ladybug meant to him…and how important it is to him for Marinette to understand that.

Marinette lets her eyes slip closed as she gives Adrien a butterfly kiss on the neck. “I’m sorry,” she mutters. “I’ve been really unfair to you.”

He rests his head on top of hers. “I don’t think I’ve been any better.”

“Meh,” she replies noncommittally. “Let’s start over with a clean slate. Let’s be friends.”

“I’d really like that,” he sighs, breathing in the scent of her hair once more.

“I don’t want to get your hopes up for a romantic relationship, though,” she quickly adds. “I’ll keep it in mind, but I’m falling in love with Chat, and if we decide to pursue a relationship, you and I can only be friends. He’s too wonderful a guy to have a cheating girlfriend. If I’m his, I’m his entirely. I don’t want to hurt you, Adrien, but I can’t hurt Chat. Okay?”

“Okay,” Adrien whispers, and it takes all of his acting skills and self-control not to let his excitement show. He wants to pick her up and swing her around and pepper her face with kisses…but that would be entirely inappropriate behavior for Adrien Agreste in this moment.

“Okay,” she sighs, relaxing once more into his embrace. “Good.”

They’re still for a moment, coming down from the emotional discussion and just breathing.

“You smell like Chat,” Marinette murmurs, her lips on his neck feeling like a series of pleasant shocks.

Adrien’s brain shuts down. “Uh…sorry? Is that…a bad thing?”

She knows what he smells like? He thought noting other people’s scents was a Black Cat Miraculous side effect.

“No. Chat smells wonderful,” she hums, somehow not noticing how she’s affecting him. “It’s a delicious smell. Chat’s smell is calming.”

“How do you know what Chat smells like?” he has to ask.

Does Chat smell that strongly? That distinctly? Could it be a clue to his identity that someone other than Marinette could pick up on? Should he be worried about this when a beautiful girl is in his arms telling him he smells good? That is what she’s implying, right? Chat smells good. Adrien smells like Chat. Therefore, the transitive property would say that Adrien smells good.

C (Chat smell) = B (good). C (Chat smell) = A (Adrien smell). Therefore, A (Adrien smell) = B (good). Right?

“Are you really doing this while a pretty girl is hugging you?”

“Of course I know what Chat smells like. I mean, I’ve fallen asleep on top of him twice in the past five days, and—”

She lets out a screech and pulls back, meeting his inquisitive gaze with a look of panic. “—Not like that! We’re not—! It isn’t like that. We haven’t—”

“—Marinette,” he calls, taking her by the arms. “It’s okay. I know. I know it’s not like that.”

She blinks, stunned. “…Well, are you sleeping with him then, since you two are so close that you share that kind of information? It sounds like he tells you everything, including whether or not he’s sleeping with me.”

Adrien grimaces. “Neither of us has ever been in a physical relationship with the other or anyone else, for that matter. Just putting that out there.”

“Well, it’s good to know I have nothing to be jealous of,” Marinette snorts. “…Sorry. I’m a little weirded out by the idea of you and Chat Noir discussing my and Chat Noir’s sex life.”

Adrien’s face glows Santa-suit-red, and he really wishes he could tell her that he and Chat are the same person and have her believe him this time. He’d try explaining it to her again, but he’s pretty sure he’d only get kicked in the other shin for his trouble. She’s not in any condition to listen.

With an enormous sigh, Adrien constructs a passable half-truth. “It’s not just you, Marinette. It’s everything. We talk about everything.”

She pulls a little farther back and studies his face inquisitively.

“We’re both socially inept,” he laments to the floor. “We spent our childhood mostly kept away from people our own age, so now it’s painfully difficult trying to fit in and not say or do anything too weird. We don’t know what we’re doing, and we’re always second-guessing ourselves, so we talk about everything. At the end of the day, we go back over and pick it all apart—everything we said and did, the way people reacted, the things other people said, anything we noticed other people doing that didn’t make sense… We study and analyze and try to figure out what to do going forward. Yesterday we agonized over whether it was a good idea for Chat to talk to you about Félix and what things were like growing up. Today it will probably be an ‘Oh crap!’-fest concerning whether and how to tell the girl you like that your father is a criminal.”

He forces himself to meet her eyes as he apologizes, “We’re sorry. We never meant to betray your trust. It wasn’t intentional, but…there’s just no barrier between the two of us. If there’s something you don’t want one of us to know, you shouldn’t tell the other. Marinette, it’s probably best for everyone if you just start trying to treat us like two halves of the same person…. Okay? Sorry.” He begins to backpedal. “I know lately with Chat and me there’s been a lot to process. We know we’re wearing you out, and we’re sorry. We—”

“—Shh.” Marinette smiles reassuringly as she gently places her fingers over his lips.

She’s never seen Adrien looking so frantic and vulnerable. It’s easy to see how much he wants to make sure she understands. It takes him even farther away from the cool and mature mental image of him that Marinette has been carrying around. It makes him look more like Chat: sensitive, innocently hopeful, and accosted on all sides.

Codependent twins.

She mentally updates her theory.

Marinette gingerly pulls him back into her arms and rests her head on his chest. “It’s okay, Minou.”

One hand reaches up to lightly tap the bell on his choker.

He goes still and relaxes, nuzzling her hair to comfort himself.

“Everything is fine. Chat is fine. You’re fine. I’m fine. We’re all going to figure this out together….” She hums thoughtfully. “This is what Chat meant when he said you two were a package deal, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he mutters into her hair. “Buy one, get more than you bargained for.”

She bites her lip, trying to decide how to reply. She can’t say anything to raise his hopes, but, at the same time, she wants to build him up as a friend. “…More isn’t always a bad thing…but let’s just be friends for now, the three of us. This is all too much too fast.”

He makes a lazy noise of agreement, getting comfortable in her embrace.

“…You really needed a hug, didn’t you?” she notes gently, careful so that he knows she’s not judging.

“Do you mind?” he wonders. “You said all Chat had to do was ask, but what about Adrien?”

Marinette’s mind screams that this is a bad idea. She was all set to give up on him, but now he’s drawing her back in.

“Feel free to ask, but know that there are times when I’ll say no,” she cautions.

“That’s fair,” he agrees, accepting the boundaries she chooses to set.

They hold each other loosely in silence for a minute or so before Marinette sighs, “God. What is that that makes you two smell so fantastic? Is that shampoo? Aftershave? This is going to drive me nuts.”

Adrien bites his cheek trying not to crack up. She’s like a frustrated hunting dog who has lost her quarry. “What does it smell like?”

“Something sweet—not baked goods, though. More like chocolate, but then it’s kind of herbal and minty with a touch of floral,” she reports, taking experimental sniffs of his hair, his neck, his chest.

“Oh.” He blushes, trying not to react. “That would be Bvlgari Blv. I have the shampoo and the shower gel.”

She nods slowly. “I’ve heard of Bulgari before. Didn’t you do an add for…watches, I wanna say?”

He blinks. “Uuumm…Oh! Yes. It was a couple years ago.” His brow creases. “You have a really good memory.”

She shrugs, pointedly looking away. “You forget I’m a fangirl,” she mutters wryly and then attempts to steer the conversation away. “Is the shower gel and the shampoo expensive?”

He shrugs. “Not really.”

Marinette overexaggerates an eyeroll. “Would it be expensive for me?” she clarifies. “Does it cost more than…say…fifteen euros for a bottle?”

He winces. “Yes?”

She gives a wistful sigh.

“Why do you ask?”

“I was thinking of picking up a bottle just to keep around the house and sniff from time to time like a stalker,” she confesses, throwing all shame out the window.

Chat knows she’s a weirdo, and he still seems to like her. If Adrien is going to decide that he likes her now, he might was well know the person he’s thinking about pursing.

“You can go ahead and tell him that,” she volunteers. “He’ll probably get a kick out of knowing I like the way he smells.”

She grins, and it makes his stomach flutter.

He suddenly feels less weird for wanting to buy a bottle of her shampoo to keep around the house.

“I’ll be sure to let him know,” Adrien chuckles, amused indeed. “Bvlgari Blv does seem to be a popular scent, though. You probably won’t be pleased to hear this, but Chloé likes it too.”

“Does she?” Marinette sniffs indignantly. “Well, at least she has good opinions about at least one thing.”

Adrien shrugs. “She says it’s…” He stops dead as he considers the appropriateness of Chloé’s opinion for the current time and place.

“Orgasmic,” Chloé herself completes as she approaches.

Adrien and Marinette spring apart, flushing furiously.

Chloé raises an eyebrow.

“Hey, Chlo,” Adrien greets with a watery smile.

Chloé shakes her head. “Adri-chou, I thought you only wanted to be friends with her so that you didn’t screw everything up.”

Adrien wilts.

Marinette looks back and forth between the two in curiosity.

“Chloé, Marinette and I were just talking about how we just wanted to be friends,” he informs through gritted teeth, hoping his oldest friend will let it drop.

“I think you’re both confused,” Chloé snorts, but then she sees the pained expression on Adrien’s face and relents. “I’m sure that’s none of my business, though, if you decide you want to seduce her with your shower gel. If you’ll excuse me, I have to go explain to Monsieur Damocles how my Daddy will not look kindly upon the school for unjustly punishing me for a misunderstanding.”

“Oh, Chlo,” Adrien groans, resting his face in his hand. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Chloé gasps, shocked that Adrien would even suggest such a thing. “It was simply a misunderstanding. The misunderstanding wasn’t even my fault…but if you two want to stand out here and make goo-goo eyes at each other, that’s probably not a bad use of time. If you go back to class, you might find Ivan has gotten himself akumatized. It certainly has nothing to do with me, though.”

“Oh, Bee,” Adrien reiterates. “We’ve talked about this.”

Chloé shrugs. “It was a misunderstanding!”

He looks at her with sad eyes, and she caves. “I’ll apologize later,” she mutters.

“Thank you, Chlo.” Adrien gives her a smile and pats her on the back as she passes.

Marinette feels oddly jealous. She’s aware that Chloé is no longer claiming Adrien as her betrothed, but there’s still a strange camaraderie between Adrien and Chloé that bothers Marinette.

Chloé smiles at Adrien and then pauses when her gaze locks with Marinette’s. Chloé cringes slightly at first before she’s able to school her expression into casual distaste. “If my Adri-chou has his heart set on you now, I suppose I’ll have to learn to tolerate you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. After all, I’m going to be your children’s favourite aunt, so we had better start getting along, I guess.”

With a “hmph” of disdain, Chloé flips her ponytail over her shoulder and turns on her heel to complete her march to the principal’s office.

Once she’s gone, Marinette shudders. “I’m pretty sure Alya is going to be my children’s favourite aunt.”

“I’m sure it will be quite the knock-down, drag-out battle,” Adrien sighs, trying not to picture it.

Still shaking her head, Marinette points herself in the direction of class. “I’m heading back.”

“What about the possible akuma?” Adrien worries, not wanting Marinette back in danger.

Marinette smirks. “At least then I’ll be able to see Chat, right?”

“You could just text him,” he sighs, following obediently behind her.

[blacknovelist]

Half-Empty, Half-Full (FE3H Fic)

hey hi what’s up lads, so I like, 100% forgot I could post my piece for the @threehouseszine Beneath The Banner (also available on Twitter under the same name) and as such I’m like ten years late. :) But the zine has been sent out, and I finally noticed like the fool I am that others have posted their pieces, and thusly, I too will post mine! Because I can. And I want to.

My focus was on the Golden Deer post-skip, specifically in some nebulous point during the war. Being part of this zine was really, really cool -- I can’t wait for all the books and merch to arrive with everyone!

(will reblog with links because we all know tumblr likes to break things.)

A beat of something nice, amid the fragments of harder times.

In the spaces between war — between scattered supply checks and ration distribution, bandit skirmishes and long watch nights — Hilda finds the time she needs to breathe.

It came easier, back in the academy. She could simply step back and let the world move around her, steadfast in her belief that it would still be standing when she returned. Nowadays she steals the air in her lungs from glances at the sky and quick delivery walks, from the chip of chisel and steel against stone and wood, from the sensation of gems and petals inlaid on clothes, chains and hooks when she can afford to lay down her axe. Infrequency makes the beats between battles all the more precious.

With the professor around she can afford more pauses still, but Hilda watches herself. She knows, all too well, just how young she is. Claude lies at one year her junior and the professor, with their five year hiatus, sits at two. It wouldn't do for her stubborn leaders to find someone they can’t believe in among their ranks, now.

She’s on the run for errands when she spots a hint of not-plant green and wood not far off the beaten path, and she wastes no time following that tried and true Deer instinct to take a peek. Ignatz is there, as expected, easel propped on a patch of flat land, what she can see of the canvas a tasteful blend of browns and golds. He leans in, fingers dabbed in the same off-white his paintbrush dusts onto his scene. 

Now, Hilda doesn’t paint, but she does understand the stress and struggle of art, different forms aside. Which is why she waits until he leans back before she steps forward and taps his shoulder. 

“Hey, Ignatz.”

Ignatz yelps, almost drops his brush and earns himself a stripe on his palm for his troubles. “Hilda! Hi. I’m sorry, I didn’t notice you there.” 

“Don't worry about it.” She clasps her hands together. “What’re you painting?"

"I wanted to capture the cathedral, while it's still under repair." He gestures to his piece — the white forms the glint of sunlight off patches of rubble, steel and glass, along with the robes of monks and priests as they shift and sweep aside what debris they can. "A lot of artists depict places in their prime, or utterly destroyed, or after they've been restored to their former glory. I thought it would be nice to show the in-between for once. People from every background imaginable, coming together to rebuild for the future. A little different from what I usually paint, but sometimes a little variety is nice." 

"And you're doing it all the way out here because…"

"I didn't want to be in anyone's way, and I come out here a lot. I've got plenty of references with me, so it's not a problem." Ignatz shifts and Hilda catches sight of a stack of sketchbooks, some more worn than others, half-spilled from a bag. The top one gets plucked up and held between them as he flips from page to page. Statue busts, the altar and rows of pews among pillars rendered in charcoal and sleek pigment lines. Sometimes, she catches glimpses of green and blue and other colors, or shapes that don't quite match the church art he focuses on, but Ignatz flips too fast for her to see. 

Or, almost. "Go back two pages," Hilda says. A grin tugs at her lips. "Was that Claude?"

"Oh! Uh, yes." Though Ignatz learned to leave embarrassment and nerves about his art behind, something in his chest still squirms, just a bit. An image of their leader in the library, face cast in candlelight and more at peace than he ever is during daylight, stares up at the duo. "It's easier when I’m with a person, but sometimes I'll do studies on my own. Practice makes perfect, after all." 

"It's beautiful." She reaches out, pauses. "May I…?"

He passes it over. "Here. You can look at the others, too. I don't mind." Then he turns back to the easel and reaches for his paint. "Anyway, I thought this was as good a spot to work as any. There's a field down that way you can see best in the spring, and I like the view of everything from here."

"You'll have to show me when it's in season." 

Her eyes flicker over thick paper. Statues. Flowers, trees, forest paths. Distance shots of people, strolling towards town. Swirls of filigree and patterns fill whole pages in patches, tiny stylized animals and the occasional dragon tucked into the empty space. Silhouettes crowd around the pews, and even if she recognizes clothes, many of these smaller figures are faceless. 

But she finds a loose sketch, hair popping blond against black ink, of Raphael and a young girl with the same square jaw and broad shoulders. Claude himself appears once more, this time in wireframe form, ordinary steel bow drawn all the way back and arrow pointed to the left. When she plucks one of his other books from the stack it follows a similar trend — renderings of the cathedral, inside and out, stuck in among horse-drawn carriages and sunlit grass patches and clothes and people, both familiar and unfamiliar, faceless and defined. A few drawings are from the past few months: Sylvain in his armor, Baltie with his open-chested shirt, Leonie and her long hair, the monastery scaffolding. 

Most of his drawings are from the academy days. 

Lindhardt, leaned against a tree, the shadow of leaves mottled on his lap. Herself and Marianne seated in the dining hall. Lysithea, with a book in one hand and a swirl of magic in the other. Claude and Lorenz mid-argument. Felix as he trains blade blurred and bent as he lunges. Dimitri and Dedue bent over a table in their classroom. Edelgard as she strides across the courtyard, Hubert one step behind. Busts of the professor and Jeralt, side by side, the faintest quirk in their lips. 

Hilda looks up and pauses. Ignatz presses so close to the canvas he’s peering over the wire frames of his glasses rather than through, brow furrowed and jaw set. She shuts an eye as the sun slips out from behind what’s left of Garreg Mach’s spires. Greyscale flowers peer up from the pages, a reflection of the few asters scattered around their feet. Mountain monastery air goes down sweet and full in her lungs.

"I gotta say, Ignatz,” she says, the edge of her thumb smudged in stray charcoal. "These are amazing. How long have you been doing art?"

"Since I was little." He leans back, considers his work, then leans in again. "My parents are merchants, so we delivered paintings and statuettes to a lot of noble houses in the Alliance. One day I found some extra supplies lying around so I just… picked it up and gave it a shot."

"Well, I'm glad you did. Even these plain sketches look much nicer than anything I could do, and don't even get me started on painting. No offense, Ignatz, but no thank you. Definitely not my wheelhouse."

Ignatz pauses. "None taken, and thank you. You draw?”

"Not much." She waves a hand. "My talents lie in accessories. I like to plan before I start working, figure out how it should come together and doodle in the margins a little sometimes, that's all."

"You're always wearing beautiful jewelry, but I didn't realize you made them yourself." A smile breaks out across his face. "That's amazing, Hilda!"

A blush rolls across her cheeks and she can't stop the tug of her lips into a matching grin. "Oh, stop it. Really?"

"Of course! The colors and shapes you use match your hair, complexion, and the clothes you tend to wear quite beautifully." His brush plunges into a cup of water by the foot of his easel and faces her fully. "When did you start?"

"A long time ago, now – I'm not even sure exactly how long, anymore. I used to make flower crowns and necklaces with my big brother, and it just spun out from there." The book lies closed in her hands now. Her finger runs up and down the paper, feels the grooves between unaligned pages. "I could make them as pretty or ugly as I wanted, so long as I was happy in the end. No one ever expected anything more or less. Not that I ever made something ugly, mind you."

Ignatz hummed. "Have you ever considered selling them?"

"Not really.” Hilda tilts her head. “Do you think it'd be a good idea?"

"Absolutely! You should consider it, once the war is over. I bet people would love them."

She taps her chin. “I’ll give it some thought. What about you, Ignatz? What do you plan on doing once this whole mess is behind us?” 

“Well… Ideally, I’ll keep painting,” he says. “Even if I have to do it between my duties as a knight. It might make it hard to find a household to serve, but I don’t want to just stop.”

“Why are you aiming to be a knight? How come you’re not just going off to be an artist or something like you want to?”

“My parents sent me to the academy since my brother’s taking over the business. They didn’t really approve of the whole artist thing.” Ignatz shrugs. “I don’t really think I’m all that cut out for it, to be honest. Fighting’s never been my strong suit.” 

“Well that’s a shame,” Hilda says. “Have you ever spoken to them about it?”

He shook his head. "Not much recently, at least."

“You should. Maybe you can convince them, after all this. And if you can’t, then just come to House Goneril, okay? I’ll let you paint as much as you want.”

“That would be nice.” He smiles, then bends to reach for his bag. “Thank you, Hilda.” 

“Any time.” She holds the sketchbook out. Ignatz takes it, tucks it gently alongside the others. Before he can put his brush away, he pauses. 

“If you have time,” he starts. "Would you like to join me out here again tomorrow? We could work on our projects together, if you have any."

Hilda smiles. "I'd love to, but I'm on stock duty tomorrow. No shuffling off the responsibility for that."

"I see. That's too bad. Maybe next time?" 

"... Sure. I'd like that."

[sonatanotwo]

Well... I barely slept. 😂 Least I’ve got coffee... Gonna try to fumble out some words... (Spoilers ahoy!)

I didn’t quite expect the emotional roller coaster this has turned into... and not entirely cause of the episode itself. 😂 It’s feeling ever so bitter sweet... mostly in that experiencing something so emotional without a lot of the people that made up this sorta... fandom home? that it was to me. All the friends I love and care about. It’s... been feeling kinda lonely... Even though I’m not alone of course, but... yeah. It’s hard to explain. 😂 And then with this looking like the end (...though I kinda doubt ITV is gonna shelve the franchise for another 10+ years... least I sure hope not. That’d seem VERY dumb to me. But what will they do with it? That’s the real big question, ain’t it? XD I was a bit agape after attaching ‘Season’ to every time they spoke of ending that today they finally changed their tune and was like THE END. What the ever loving heck, ITV. Seriously. 😂 BUT I digress...) ...IDK if any of that feeling will ever come back now. Shit changes... god, do I ever know it does... but I guess... I just wasn’t ready for it yet. ;A;

...And boy is my body telling me that. 😂 Anxiety is such an asshole.

ANYHOO.

SO.

This ep.

As I mentioned when I gif’d it (opening my gif making stuff was first thing I did XD) that HUG man. That old hug art I did, the original version (the one you see commonly around now is the tweaked one) was one of my first finished (ish) TAG piece (only few rough doodles and half coloured things were before that lol) that I posted June 10th 2015.... so long ago. (My first post that was some sketches was June 2nd XD Yeah, I’ve been around a long while now, blimey. Not quite the VERY very start, but nearly!)

BUT YEAH. I was wanting this hug for a VERY, VERY long time. XDDD Just, back then, didn’t think it’d involve their Dad too. lol

And then, gosh... Scott in this ep... Last ep was def more Scott heavy... to balance he was stepped back a bit, but... it did make sense? Scott just seems quietly basking in the feeling of having his Dad back. Him hanging back from the hug for a moment having that exchange with his Dad feels a bit like a... passing back the torch? Here they are Dad. I took good care of them. :Db Does that make sense??? IDK. I’m so tired you guys. 😂 But it didn’t feel like Scott needed to say anything. It was written all over his face. He must have been so happy... and relieved. It’s pretty overwhelming in all the best way to hear from someone you haven’t in awhile... so... in this case, it must be turned up to like... an 11. ^^a

Man, I don’t think I can go through this in order so, bear with me if I bounce around.

There’s been so much wondering what this version of Jeff would be like all these years... and in such a short time, we definitely got a LOT to go off of. He’s a Dad who definitely doesn’t hesitate to hug his sons. :3 Fears Grandma as much as the boys, lolololol HUGS HIS ENGINEER. I actually really just... LOVED that scene with Brains. That casual, ‘Hi Brains.’ And then just calling him PARTNER and going right in for a hug... and lol Brains’ lil happy sound. Jeff and Brains were certainly friends in TOS, but there was still a kinda distance between them in that Brains is working for Jeff, but that was definitely laid out to be much different in TAG. I’m not surprised by it, cause Brains is def part of the family, but it was lovely they took the time to show it.

ALSO just how he picked up Virgil was dwelling on something... we don’t really get a window into what exactly... but after all those years, he just... picks right up on Virgil’s in some turmoil. (As said in a tag... MAYBE MOM RELATED? He seems to think Virgil’s worried if he’ll really be okay, which is why I wonder... GONNA DEF WRITE SOME FIC THOUGH. XDb) Like. GOSH. I’m sad we aren’t likely to see more of this Jeff, cause with this single ep, he was absolutely sold on me. And I love he was a total presence... but he did sit back quietly and other than dealing with ‘Brains’ and largely just *watched*. Scott was still in charge here.

So as for the end and what role Jeff is gonna play... WELL... I mean. To be fair here at the end, John is probably changing and heading to the elevator... and I mean, we’ve seen Grandma fill in several times for John... he can’t be awake CONSTANTLY, so I’d always felt a bit like maybe they’d gradually gel into a team with just... one more member. And that seems more likely now that we’ve seen he didn’t just... jump to take command. He sat back and let them do their thing.  

And now we can see Jeff is def a bit younger... and as kinda already implied, is definitely one to get his hands dirty, so sometimes (once he’s recovered a bunch) maybe he’ll even go out with the boys. That’d be my guess. ^^a I mean, might be a little kinda jostling at first to settle into a new routine... but while he certainly has a strong presence... he’s also did kinda feel... a bit gentle too? He’s not nearly as stern as TOS!Jeff. It felt like a good balance??? IDK. I’m rambling up a storm. XDDD (...and making walls of text... I should... break these up more lol...)

OKAY ALSO...

WAIIIIT wait. WAIT. This looks familiar. V E R Y familiar... Bridge... rockety thing at bottom... explody warning? Two people inside... *squints* DAY OF DISASTER? IS THAT YOU?

I HAVE A FEELING... If so... //CHEF KISS//  VERY NICE. A+ XD

OKAY. WHAT ELSE. Uh. Glad they did end up using Fuse’s (or I guess I could say Clarence’s :D) mixed feelings, which was good and gave Grandma a heck of a moment of awesome. They also served to give some action for Kayo, Penelope and Parker which was good else I suppose they’d have been standing around worriedly. lol Which isn’t really suited to their characters. XD YEAH just lotta nice moments, especially with Kayo and Grandma. ANd just. YEAH. GRANDMA MAN. YOU TELL HIM. and also OMG she was a doctor?! THAT sure explains some things. XD And that’s awesome, gosh.

ALSO the number of HUGS in this ep were A+ Getting a moment with Jeff and Grandma was lovely. :D

LIKE REALLY. LOOK HOW HUG HAPPY THIS DAD IS. I AM PLEASED. A+

And just lol... ‘I don’t even have a car yet.’  ‘You have a rocket.’ ‘...oh yeah. That’s true.’ LOLOL SUCH ALAN. He is too cute.

...AND yeah. IDK. I feel like I’m forgetting things. I’ll ramble them into another post if I think of things. I gotta pop out for a bit. 😂

BUT YEAH. Yeah, there’s few things they didn’t get to addressing, but there were hugs and emotions which was what was really the important thing, right? :Da I don’t really feel like nit picking when had all that. XDDD

(It is kinda interesting how in a way the ending reminded me of Legacy’s a bit with a ...Oh we got an emergency. It’s a good note to leave off of... but goes to show when maybe S1 was written, it was largely on the assumption that it could be the only season... but then were able to hint of S2 in an additional scene. But if S2 hadn’t been commissioned, it was sorta ready to be a finale if it had to. In a way S2 was the same, though with bit more hints of S3 were there so... Just kinda interesting. =Oa But also nice that Rob has left it in a way that NEVER SAY NEVER (to quote Rob) is definitely open. ^^)

ANYHOO. That’s all my rambling for now. ^^