#he must know what it's like when media/fans get too focused on how they wished you acted

[futebolfutbol]

Found out my cousin hates neymar because he parties too much?? okay???

[lokideservesahug]

A Taste Of Victory

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Pairing: Jenson Button x reader (implied), Mark Webber x reader (implied).

Warnings: Jenson is a bit of a dick to reporters, sexism,

Notes: This isn't even the big peice of writing that started all of this but that is coming soon... And the photos may not be aesthetic but they sure as anything are time accurate (even using photos from the specific days). I tried to make sure of it (as well as the dates) to give you good visuals so I hope at least someone appreciates it. Also I tried a new header format. Please tell me your thoughts

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N, the newest 2009 rookie who's also...a woman? The media are desperate to pick her apart and see how well she'll do so let's have a look:

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Y/L/N residence, 7th September 2008

You sit back and sip happily on your coke bottle. Any minute now. Any minute and your phone will be blowing up. Or at least that's what Frank had told you (you still can't get over the fact that THE Frank Williams insists that you call him that, or that you'll be working for him next year). You focus back on the image on your screen,

Lewis Hamilton in his McLaren. Of course a favourite to win this season especially after his incredible performances even from his rookie season. And despite trying to clear your mind of all bias for next year, you can't help but wish that he might win. He seems like a nice guy and it's a better him than some of the others. As Hamilton reaches the ever famous, ever gorgeous Eau Rouge, the image changes, the camera focuses on the white, green and red Honda of Jenson Button. He swerves slightly, performing a certainly showy move especially for just FP2.

Despite the numbers not being as much as Hamilton supporters, some F1 fans are putting their money on Button winning the championship instead. You scoff at the thought alone. Goodness knows Formula 1 doesn't need another cocky playboy as the world champion and goodness knows Jenson Button appears to be exactly that. Gosh why couldn't a more sensible seeming driver win say Mark webber or even Fernando Alonso again. You internally scold yourself, these men will be your co workers in only a matter of months. Just the thought makes you feel a matter of emotions; which you are quickly pulled out of as the commentators voice grows louder. You watch as Fernando Alonso puts in a particularly fast lap and the more you think, you can't help but feel almost a bit...nervous.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Albert Park paddock, 27th March 2009

You hold your head up high as you enter the paddock. Bright flashes of cameras shine in your peripheral but you try your hardest to just keep your head down and focus on getting to the Williams hospitality. You glance up, taking in the sights surrounding you. The bright Australian sun paints the paddock? that you've been so long awaiting, in such a light, that you finally feel a sense if fulfilment- and you're not even in the car yet.

Too entranced by the sights around you, you fail to notice the person just in front of you. You're met with the sight of a crisp yet untucked shirt. You panick, instantly going to apologise when you meet the eyes of the person you bumped into. "Woah, careful there." Jenson Button. Oh gosh. "Someone needs to slow down." He laughs and you assume his enjoyment is coming from your misfortune. Now you'd never thought you were the type to become speechless but as you're finally met with the first driver on your official Formula 1 debut, you can't help but panick even more, squeak out an apology and speed walk towards Williams.

Gosh, you wanted today to be perfect and here you are crashing into people already. What a clumsy fool you must look like. You groan as you realise what you've done.

Now, like any unfamiliar place, you find that it was pretty easy to get yourself lost, even in place with such an easy concept (curse Melbourne event planners for trying to make too much go on at once and make it confusing). Most people also don't expect to get recognised in an unfamiliar place even if it's where you work (and your hiring was widely broadcast).

"Hey, are you alright?" You turn to look at the Autralian man whose voice, up until now, you'd only heard through a screen. You meet the eyes of Mark Webber and smile shyly. "Hi, sorry to be a bother but do you know how to get to the Williams hospitality." He just gives you a small grin, clearly not seeing your lack of knowledge as incompetence or anything like that "Of course, follow me and welcome to the paddock by the way." And as Mark leads you away, you can't help hut feel glad you'll be seeing more of him (and not just for how polite and kind he is).

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Post race interviews, 29th March 2009

After you step down from the podium, and your team has dispersed (after all congratulating you, some even with tears in their eyes). You walk away to a quieter part of the paddock to gather your thoughts. You go behind the tows of hospitalities only to find Mark Webber hunched over. You aobseve him, he's sporting a serious, disappointed and almost worried looking expression as he looks out into the distance. You walk up to him and place a soft hand on his shoulder in an attempt to gently coax him out of his thoughts and to try and offer some comfort

Without a word, he turns to look at you and his shoulders raise slightly. You give him a small smile and sit down next to him. You both sit next to each other in silence, sharing a comforting moment, silently offering support and understanding to one and other.

The air shifts (and you try to not get to excited at the prospect that your presence alone may have somewhat comforted him). The air shifts, this time it isn't tainted by negative emotions but rather fatigue and acoplmisent on your part. The both of you probably look like a true sight, disheveled, tired and sweaty, however there's a warmth between you both as you share a brief moment of tranquility amongst the chaos.

Someone calls your name and the moment is broken. You nod to Mark who gives you a small smile back and a short "Well done for today." As you smile at him and walk off to go to interviews.

You pass some fans, signing their Williams caps and exchanging excited "Well done!" And "Thank you." Pleasantries. You revel in the post win glow. It's one thing to win in your rookie season, but to win your first race? Now that's just unheard of. You hurriedly sit down in the assigned seat for you and wait for the other few straglers to arrive. You look down, placing your hands on your lap in an attempt to thwart the nerves threatening to bubble.

Brawn driver, Rubens Barrichello is the second to arrive followed not long after by Jenson Button. Rubens gives you an easy smile and yet another congratulations. You feel incredibly fortunate to have you welcomed so quickly and easily by him over the past few days of testing. You return his smile with one of your own and a small wave.

When Jenson finally sits down, an FiA representative gives the 3 of you a short introduction and then begins. Quite a few people had warned you before you entered this room that many people would want to speak to you, but you didn't expect such an onslaught.

A short, bald man stands up and adresses you. "So Miss Y/L/N, you just managed to win your debut race, which is an incredible feat but how much of it do you think is down to the car." You try not to take offence to the question, it was a pretty basic question afterall (even if it was worded a bit harshly.) You let out a small laugh. "I think it's a joint effort really. The car was looking really good this weekend but I also have a history of running fairly well at this track." The reporter nods his head and continues. "So do you think this victory will encourage other women to become involved in F1?" You nod excitedly at him. "Oh I hope so. I hope it's encouragement to all women out there that weren't sure if they could." The reported thanks you and sits down.

A few more reporters ask questions. 90% of which are adressesdfor you and a few others adresses to the men beside you (mainly to Rubens and Jenson about Braen and its last minute establishment).

This time, a slightly more lean, dark haired reporter speaks up, once again directing his questions towards you. "Y/N, how did your fellow drivers perceive your and your entrance into F1?" You nearly furrow your brows at the biazzre question (Well it's possibly bizzare that it's adressed to you). "I uh don't know. Why don't you ask them." You gesture to the drivers either side of you as the reporter repeats his question to the other pilots. "Gentlemen, your thoughts on the newest addition to the paddock?" Rubens gives you an encouraging pat on the shoulder mid sentence "She's obviously fast and I think she's managed to impress us all." The reporter nods to Jenson; and despite your belief that he's he's too cocky for his own good, you can't help but feel a bit excited and a bit anxious to hear his repsonse. "Her lap times were phenomenal during the race." You smile at his words, maybe he wasn't as bad as you thought. However, he continues "I think my only criticism I have of her is that she seems to smile less than Kimi." The reporter smirks as you lower your eyeline slighty. "Yeah and she's much easier on the eyes than Kimi." The room erupts into low laughs as you feel shame and embarrassment pool in your gut.

The reporters continue to ask a few questions that you don't pay too much attention to as you nearly get complety lost in your thoughts. One asks Jenson if he thinks you have the potential for the championship. He laughs as he awnsers "There's no denying that she's fast. But she's in a Williams, she's not going to win the championship." You bite your tongue at Jenson's words and what you think is a jab at you (not realising the true intention if insulting his old team).

Yet another reporter asks you a familiar question along the lines if how exactly you think you managed to win. Fed up being in a room with a bunch of old men, trying to pick you apart and insult you with the same few questions just worded differently, your resolve finally snaps.

"Well not that anyone is caring to ask, but I've done this track a million times over. I've practised again and again and again to get my performance perfect yet no one is congratulating me on how well I went around that track. Brawn were amazing today and I'm sure they will be in the future as well but please dont let that take away from what I've done today." You shuffle back in your chair slightly, feeling a bit uncomfortable under the stares but stay strong, unbreaking (and not noticing the stare of admiration coming from the British driver to your left and never knowing the love filled look of another Australian pilot, watching on a screen not far away).

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Top Gear Studio, May 2009

You listen anxiously as Jeremy Clarkson introduces you. Yes, Jeremy Clarkson. As he shouts your name, the camera pans to you and you walk forward, shaking Jeremy's hand and sitting down in the green, faux leather sofa.

"Now obviously I want to ask the obvious..." He speaks over the crowd's quietening bustle and you expect the next question to be one you've hears bwfore. About your gender, you- "What on Earth have you done to that Williams to make it so good?" You laugh, the familiar humour of the Top Gear host you've only ever seen on a screen putting you at ease.

"Well I don't know but maybe its because I'm far more polite to the car than other drivers." Jeremy smiles at your words and invites you into light conversation about you finally being viewed as a serious title contender. The two of you continue until you hit more general off-track talk "So, how much do you train and have you managed to find enough time to see your friends and family. Because some people have such an odd view on things like that." You let out a dramatic sigh. "Gosh they're making me train so much. More than just once a day and there are so many regimes that I can't keep track of anymore. But family wise, well I spend far less time with them than I do do training, I can tell you that much." The audience laughs which encourages you to continue. "I see my friends and family in-between weekends when I can and sometimes they'll even come to races. But gosh. I feel awful saying this." Jeremy leans forward slightly "No, go on..." Your smile becomes a bit embarrassed as your cheeks warm. "Well even on free weekends, with how crowded the paddock can be, I'll come home and just want to be alone." Jetemy shakes his head. "Well that makes sense. But you're in a very crowded space all weekend, does that mean that you've you've asked out by a lot of guys throughout the season so far?" Your eyes widen widen the insinuation. At your lack of instant response, Jeremy clarifies, "Come on! Gorgeous girl such as yourself in such a male dominated sport, I bet loads of men and probably even some drivers too have asked you out." You quickly deny the claims and the two of you move on to your lap times in their old car but you don't miss the way your mind flashed with the image of a certain dark haired Red Bull driver as Jeremy asked his previous question.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

>To be aired 28 June<

You huff out a low sigh. If you overthink today anymore, you think you might be sick. Your phone pings. You know you shouldn't have it on you but it has helped to keep you entertained as you wait. You look down and see a text from Mark. His text, wishing you good luck makes you smile and you shoot him a small thanks and silence your phone as you hear footsteps behind you.

"Are you ready?" You turn you head and nod to your future teammate as Michael Schumacher steps forward. "Question is, are you old man?" Your words make him smile and your nerves ease slightly. "I don't think I can ever be ready for something like this. But the more important thing is you." He places a caring hand on your shoulder.

If you told your child self, or heck even yourself a year ago that you're friends and future teammates with 7-time world Champion Michael Schumacher, you think you'd have laughed at yourself until tears streamed down your face. But in recent months and more specifically recent weeks, the two of you have been getting much closer. Michael offering you advice, you offering great support on current drivers habits firsthand as a warning for next season. And you even met Michael's family a month or so ago; them nearly adopting you into their clan.

A woman with headset approaches you both and taps you on the shoulder, "A minute to go." She gives you a small thumbs up and walks away, mumbling into her headset. You give her an uncertain nod as Michael pats your shoulder again. "Go out and show them what you've got kid and I'll see you out there." You give him a nervous smile and as you hear a distant shout of your name, you pull yourself together and pull your face into an excited expression, ready for the reaction to your announcement and overjoyed to have a front row seat to people's reactions to your teammate.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

You sit alone in a booth of a bustling club. Loud music nearly deafening but you'd take it any day over the continuous commentary you heard at track. You don't know how many time you can hear "It looks like the title fight is over. Y/L/N's engine is overheating and she's slowing down. It looks like Jenson Button may be champion." Without feeling sick especially when it's directly followed by your voice on the team radio, voice cracking during an apology as your mechanics tell me to back off to cool the engine.

You think of the image of Jenson's Brawn overtaking you and pulling futher into the distance; the sight of not one but two Red Bulls overtaking to fight a battle that should be yours. A voice cuts through your thoughts. You look up, meeting the eyes of the person speaking. "Are you alright?" You're surprised that Jenson came to speak to you, especially after his victory. Gosh in your vulnerable state, you even think that he might not be too bad. How silly of you. You give him a gentle nod (clearly not enough to convince him). He gestures towards the seat next to you "Is it alright if I sit here?" You nod, not Trusting your voice in this moment. "Well-" "You w-" You finally crack a smile as you speak at the same moment. He gestures to you "Sorry, you go." You smile at him. "Well done Jenson you gave a great drive this season." You expect him to smirk, to revel in your compliments but instead he just gives you a soft smile and a shake of his head. "Don't be silly. That championship would be yours if Williams ever learnt how to build cars properly. But thank you." You look down at his words, all of your emotions finally coming to the forefront. "Hey, you look like you need to be cheered up. You don't need to feel like this going into next season..." He passes and his brows furrow. You look up at Jenson who is now standing and for the first time all year, allow yourself to admire him. The way that his still slightly hair drops as some strands stick to his forehead. "You-" He furrows his brows again and then laughs freely. "Oh yeah, you're taking my job. Well Miss Y/L/N, he grabs your hand and pulls you up from your seat, Elliciting a small noise from you. "Then we need to dance to celebrate and to cheer you up." You just shake your head and follow him, finally smiling as you follow his foolish adrenaline (and probably slightly alcohol-fueled) giggly nature; placing down your phone and missing the texts.

Mark Webber: Hey Well done on today and I'm sorry what happened. Hoping to speak to you at some point later...

M.S: Hey Hase, well done on today, you drove so well I hope you know that. Corinna and I wanted to invite you to our...

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Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.

As always, likes, reblogs and especially feedback is always welcome!

Taglist: @nikfigueiredo @mysoulispainted @leclercings @d3kstar @hiireadstuff @a-beaverhausen @nichmeddar @lozzamez3 @stinkyjax @marymustdie @littlesatanicassholebitch @mehrmonga @insanedeathwish @ems-alexandra @a-disturbing-self-reflection @cherry-piee @thatgirlmj

[bundoesnotcompete]

A nice slice of fluff. Reader is kept GN. Reader is to be married to Robin and is a fellow singer, the fanbases react. Less than 1000 words, mostly just a dust bunny of a story.

LEAKS OF ROBIN'S LATEST ALBUM SHOW GUEST SINGER

The release of Robin's latest album is just around the corner! Recent leaks have shown that a special guest is said to appear on it. Just who is this mystery being? Well, its none other than….

FANS TAKE TO SOCIAL MEDIA TO EXPRESS ANGER AT ROBIN'S LATEST ALBUM

Fans of Robin have taken to social media to express their anger at leaks detailing the surprise guest on her newest album. Singer….

You continued to scroll through social media absentmindedly as you laid on the plush couch. People were taking your appearence on Robin's latest album rather well. You had those that were angry but the majority seemed to be excited.

You were known to sing more, how do you put it, preverse songs. Though your latest album was more romantic and loving, your fans were still more unsure about your music shift and guest appearance. You latest album was the best selling one you've had. Though, some of Robin's more rabid fans were losing their mind at having you sing with their idol.

“I've brought snacks.“ Your lover's voice came from the door as she entered. You got up and headed to the kitchen where she was setting snacks on the island counter. You leaned on the counter as she took fruits and cakes out of the bags.

“Wow, you got quite a bit there. I thought you had gone to get stuff for dinner. Instead you came with cake. You must love me too much.“ You teased her. Robin smiled and laughed lightly.

“I got everything else, I just happened to be a little hungry.“ You walked around her and grabbed the other bags and began to put away their contents. You opened the fridge as you began to speak again.

“You know just what i like too, don't you Pretty Dove? All the good stuff.“ You shut the fridge and set the empty bags aside. Robin still faced away from you Anna was focused on setting the island counter right. You wrapped your arms around her waist and hugged her. “I will cook tonight. Are you ready for tomorrow?“

She hummed and smiled. You knew she had been nervous for tomorrow. Between the album debut and your announcement of marriage, she was a bit worried yet excited.

“I think everyone will love our hard work.“ You let go of her when she gently tapped your arm. “I'll help make dinner.“

Dinner was quickly made and consumed. You both decided to go to bed early that night to prepare for the big day tommorow.

FANS ARE RAVING ABOUT ROBIN'S LATEST ALBUM

Robin's latest album has finally dropped and it has fans crying.

“Its so romantic. I wish i had someone to live me like these songs.“ One user wrote on social media this morning.

“I was super worried at first but now im like super happy. I was blown out the water by their voices.“ Another wrote….

ROBIN ANNOUNCES MARRIAGE TO FELLOW SINGER

After the debut of her latest album “Love Across the Cosmos”, Robin has announced that she will be marrying….

ENTERTAINMENT WORLD SHOCKED AT ROBIN'S LATEST ANNOUNCEMENT

Sunday was giving you a strained smile. You knew he was not too fond of you ever since you were children. Declaring that you would marry his sister had angered him as a kid and you two just never have gotten along since. Jokes on him, you were getting to marry her. You were nervous to see your soon to be wife in her dress.

“Calm down, your pacing is going to wear a hole into the floor.“ Sunday stated from his seat in your room. You were about to walk out soon to stand and wait for the love of your life.

“Shut up bird boy. What if something goes wrong. What if she doesn't like how i look? What will everyone else think?“ Your anxiety was worsening. Sunday sighed. He stood up and walked to where you were pacing.

Grabbing your shoulders he spoke, “Listen, I tolerate you because my sister loves you so I am going to only tell you this once. No one is going to say anything wrong and nothing will go wrong. You look fine. She will love your outfit.“ The bell rang outside and Sunday shoved you toward the door. “Now, you've practiced this so everything will be fine. I have made sure of it.“ You nodded to him and walked out.

The next minutes passed by in a blur as you waited for Robin. It was worth it when she did, you breath was taken away by her beauty. You held in tears as she approached. Her smile was obvious as she got closer. She came to a stop beside you and you turned to face her.

As she stood in front of you, you thought of everything you two had been together. From childhood friends to popular singers to now. You both were about to say your vows and make it an offical. The words has come easily to you and only she had to say them back. A distant, childish part of you couldn't wait to rub it in Sunday's face that you got to marry her.

“You may now kiss the bride.“ A single kiss and cheers erupted with the crowd. Robin broke away from you and smiled. She had tears in her eyes.

“I'm so happy I got see you like this.“ She giggled. “Let's go, we've got a cake to cut and a celebration to have.“ She took your hand in hers and you both left to celebrate the days ahead.

OFFICAL PHOTOS FROM ROBIN'S WEDDING RELEASED. CLICK HERE TO SEE MORE

[sanguineness-wings]

Why are you running?

(read on ao3)

Pairing: Hawks x gn!Reader

Rating: SFW

Warnings: bird traits/instincts

hawks/raptors have this instinct to chase and attack if you turn your back on them, so what if you accidentally trigger it 👀

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

The sun was dipping low on the horizon, sending amber rays of light between the tightly packed skyscrapers. You shield your eyes from the light as you step out of the convenience store, your groceries in hand. After you take a moment for your eyes to adjust, you note a small crowd gathering just up the sidewalk from you. And from the center of it sprouts a large pair of crimson wings.

It’s a dead giveaway, those wings were plastered everywhere across the city, on billboards, on buses. There’s no escaping Hawks’ image.

As you watch on, the man himself suddenly hovers above his adoring fans, stretching out his impressive wing span leisurely. Leaving you with a perfect view of his wind tossed hair kissed with dying sunlight and a lopsided smile on his lips.

It makes your heart clench as you look on with awe. He’s so effortlessly beautiful it hurts to look at him. It’s also incredibly intimidating. How can those fans just talk to him like it’s nothing. You couldn’t even imagine.

Your staring must have caught his attention as suddenly his gaze turns and locks onto yours. You feel your stomach lurch, frozen with embarrassment. Hawks has the audacity to offer you a softer smile, making your cheeks heat up instantly.

Your brain screams at you to leave now. Your shyness urging you flee the unexpected attention. So you sharply turn your back to the crowd, and the gorgeous Pro Hero, and hurriedly make your escape.

Without consciously knowing why, you take a final glance over your shoulder. Even with Hawks’ signature visor over is eyes, you can see his pupils dilate, nearly completely blown black before constricting to tiny pin pricks in a split second. His smile has fallen from his face, leaving behind a cold blankness. A shiver runs through you and a cold sweat breaks out under your collar.

Your brain unhelpfully supplies, “Haha, I’m in danger!” Adrenaline courses through your veins and you run. A full sprint down the sidewalk in panic. It’s a ridiculous response in hindsight, but you’ve never seen such an inhuman look on Hawks’ face.

You barely make it a few feet before you feel a gust of wind behind you and suddenly your vision is nothing but red. Massive wings envelope you entirely as powerful arms lock around your waist, almost bruising in their strength. You’re dragged to your knees as the body behind you curls over your spine. You feel the prickle of stubble against your neck and jaw, hot puffs of breath against your skin. You’re utterly trapped.

All logical thoughts are thrown out the window with your heart thundering against your ribs. You don’t dare move a muscle.

An indiscernible amount of time passes before you hear a huffed laugh next to your ear, making you shudder.

“Well, isn’t this embarrassing, damn. I’m really sorry about all this. Are you alright?” Hawks says in a tight voice as he slowly releases you from his grip.

You’re shaking as you awkwardly stumble to your feet, Hawks aiding with a gentle, gloved hand on your elbow. When you finally get the courage to glance at his face, your heart does a somersault in your chest. A light blush dusts the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks. He has a hand behind his head sheepishly, using the other to steady you on your jelly-like legs.

“I haven’t done something like that since I was a teenager in training,” he admits, bashfulness coloring his voice.

“…and what was that exactly?” You finally find your voice, wincing inwardly at how shaken it sounds.

“Oh you know, like…bird stuff? Well, hawk stuff? Like predator instinct?” Hawks shifts from foot to foot, looking anywhere but you.

“Like...you thought I was prey?”

“No! No, it’s not like that. Well, I mean kind of. But not really? It’s hard to explain. You turned your back and I just…couldn’t help myself. I’m really sorry. Did I hurt you at all?” Seeing this level of uncomfortableness on Hawks was so jarring from how he normally carries himself in the public eye. It was like all of his confidence was parred away. 

“I’m okay, really. Just gave me a fright, that’s all.” You’re really trying your best to sound casual, adding a weak laugh to hopefully defuse the tension.

He humors you, offering a half-hearted smile as he stoops down to gather up your groceries that you didn’t notice had spilled across the sidewalk.

"Well, if you’re sure you’re okay, I should be off. A hero’s job never stops.”

And with that he’s gone, taking off into the sky. You stand there dumbly on the sidewalk in shock for a few beats.

You then hear murmuring, whispering, and the click of photos being captured. Horrified, you realize Hawks’ fans were watching everything and recorded every second of it. You curse under your breath as you start rushing home, ignoring the growing crowd behind you. If Hawks wasn’t going to eat you alive, the internet certainly was.

---

Get it together, Hawks. What the hell was that?

The winged hero cursed at himself with gritted teeth and a furrowed brow as he shot across the sky. He shouldn’t have done that. He was trained not to do that. The Commission pushed him hard to ignore the animalistic pull to hunt and another traits they deemed unsightly or dangerous. And he had gotten good at suppressing those instincts. He passed all of their tests and drills after years of intense training. He never had a slip up since starting his Pro career.

His mind was racing as he tried to pin point what made him react like that. Did he let his guard down? Got too comfortable in the moment?

He thought of the way you trembled in his arms, immobilized with fear. The thundering of your panicked heart and the quiver of your voice. A shiver crept down his spine, making his hair and feathers stand on end. He liked it. The thrill of it all lighting up parts of his brain long neglected. 

A frustrated growl escaped his lips, lost to the roar of the wind around him. He really shouldn’t be entertaining those thoughts, even for a moment. He felt gross. 

He dug his phone from his pocket, sending a text to his PR manager. The least he could do was give them a heads up. Though pictures and videos of the whole incident were probably already circulating. His PR team had their work cut out for them, it was a seriously bad look for the hero. 

Almost immediately after he sent the text his phone buzzed angrily with replies from his team and an incoming call from the Commission. His heart sank to the pit of his stomach. It was going to be a long night.

---

The days following were a nightmarish blur of embarrassment and anxiety. Your brief brush with Hawks was plastered across every social media platform. You couldn’t escape all of the memes and GIFs. You wanted nothing more than to blink from existence.

Most people thought the whole thing was funny, even wishing it was them tackled to the sidewalk by Hawks. Your coworkers teased you mercilessly, constantly asking if you at least got his number afterwards. 

There weren’t many, but a few comments filled you with anger. They were using this to fuel for their hatred towards those with heteromorphic quirks. They claimed that this proved they were dangerous, nothing more than animals. Which, of course, was ridiculous. 

But you did your best to keep your head down and ignore the notifications on your phone. You kept reassuring yourself that this would all blow over soon. And sure enough by the end of the week the internet was distracted by “leaked” selfies of Hawks in grey sweatpants, posing in front of a bathroom mirror.

---

Hawks had just started an early morning patrol as he glided and weaved through the streets. He’d been taking on extra hours lately, finding it easier to distract himself on the job rather than staring at his bedroom ceiling. Who needed sleep anyway. If he stopped, all he could think about was you. The fear on your face. Your frantic pulse against his skin. Guilt gnawed away at him. He didn’t want to scare you, what type of hero would he be if he did. 

Instead of dwelling on the thoughts eating at him, he focused on the streets below him. It was relatively quiet, only a scattering of people going about their lives. He swooped lower, maneuvering between lamp posts just for his own entertainment. He pulled up short abruptly, nearly smacking into one of them.

His heart lurched in his chest, recognizing you immediately as you made your way down the street. He had a little mental battle with himself. Half of him wanted to talk to you, just reassure himself that you were truly okay after all this madness. The other have was telling him to leave you alone, that he’d only made it worse.

After hovering awkwardly for a few moments he made his decision. He made a show of circling ahead of you before landing, trying not to startle you. 

---

Having Hawks appear in front of you was the very last thing you expected on your walk to work. You had convinced yourself that you’d never see him again and that, even if your paths crossed, he wouldn’t want to be seen with you.

Yet here he was, with a charming smile on his face and feathers gleaming in the sun. 

You approach him cautiously, pulling out your earbuds. “Um, hi?” you start apprehensively, not sure what the hero could possibly want from you.

As you catch up to him he starts walking beside you, joining you on your commute. His wing stretches out behind you and curls around your side. Smart, you think. Even if the two of you catch someone’s eye, you were largely blocked from view.

It’s comfortably warm beneath his wing, with your shoulders brushing against each other as you walk. Your heart speeds up a little, being this close to him is a little overwhelming. Especially with the memory of him being pressed over you still fresh in your mind.

“So, I wanted to start over, if that’s alright with you. I don’t think I gave you the best first impression,” Hawks explains, his eyes fixed ahead.

“Definitely a memorable one,” you quip lightheartedly. You were more mortified by all of the unwanted attention. You knew deep down you were never in any real danger. 

Hawks snorts, making you glance at him. You watch him roll his eyes. “Not my best moment. I’m really sorry I scared you so badly. I swear I’m not going to hurt you, or anyone.”

It makes you pause as you stare at the side of his face. “I know you wouldn’t. And you didn’t even leave a mark. We can just say it was a...weird, unexpected hug. Leave it at that.”

Hawks’ gaze catches yours for a brief moment before looking away quickly, a serious look sliding onto his features. “You know that’s not what it was.”

“I know but...I’m not going to judge you for your bird stuff, or whatever it is. You’re still human. Even with the wings. We all have weird, awkward tendencies. I’m a mess of them too, and I don’t even have a Quirk. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.

“So don’t beat yourself up too much,” you say, gaining a bit of confidence the more you speak. “You’re not a monster.”

Silence stretches between the two of you, both lost in thought. You surprise yourself when you are the first to break it. 

“Besides, I thought we were starting over. I’m y/n,” you begin, nudging his shoulder with your own as you offer him a warm smile.

“I’m Hawks, but you already knew that. Say, why don’t I treat you to some coffee. There’s this great little cafe not far from here. They have these pastries that are to die for. Trust me, you’ll love it!” The hero chatters away, with you still safely tucked away under his wing.

[yelenadelova]

The Problem with the “Mad Woman”

I’ve seen a lot of people speculating that Wanda will become a villain by the end of WandaVision. Here is why I desperately do not want that to happen. This will get quite long so I’m including a tldr and putting the rest below the cut. But I’d really appreciate if you gave it a read if you have the time.

tldr; The “Mad Woman” trope is the trope in which women “go mad” or turn evil after acquiring a certain level of power. Many people are theorizing that Wanda will fall into this trope. This trope is damaging for many reasons. Media is excessively fixated on the suffering of women. And this trope sends the message that women cannot handle their grief and cannot manage their power the same way that men can. This trope can be extremely damaging to the girls and women who look up to these characters. I truly hope that this trope is avoided with Wanda’s story in WandaVision and beyond.

DISCLAIMER: I’ll be talking a lot about Wanda and occasionally other Marvel characters. I will only be referring to the versions of these characters that exist in the MCU. I am not knowledgeable enough on their comic origins and stories to speak on them.

One trope that I have noticed in my consumption of media over the years is the “Mad Woman”. This trope often occurs when a woman faces a huge loss and is overwhelmed by grief or faces continuous challenges and roadblocks to their goal. No matter how a character arrives their the end result is always the same. The woman “snaps” and “goes mad” committing acts of violence, lashing out, making grabs for power, betraying people she loves, etc. One famous example of this trope is the case of Daenerys Targaryen, who after facing the loss of multiple loved ones and failing to gain the acceptance of others, suddenly went mad and burned an entire city to the ground. There is speculation that we will see Wanda face a similar fate. Theories often dictate that Wanda will be so overwhelmed by losing Vision (as well as other important figures in her life such as Pietro and Natasha) that she will use her powers to lash out at others, harming anyone who gets in the way of the reality she is creating and eventually becoming a villain in the MCU who must be stopped.

Let’s get into the first reason I hate this trope. Media seems to be obsessed with the suffering of women. It’s of course not uncommon for any character to suffer greatly regardless of gender, especially in franchises like Game of Thrones or the MCU. A certain amount of pain and loss is to expected. However, when it comes to female characters their stories too often center around this pain. Female characters are more often shown being overwhelmed by their pain or being unable to move past it. Male characters are more likely to be seen soldiering through and moving on. By centering so many female storylines around this pain it gives the message that women are less capable of handling these feelings of grief. 

A second reason this trope is damaging is the idea that women cannot handle their power. When a woman is given great power, political, magical, or otherwise, she is often shown as being unable to handle the weight of it. With Daenerys, this was seen in the form of her becoming “corrupt” as she gained more power in Essos and Westeros. With Wanda we see that the more she masters her powers and abilities the more she seems likely to “go mad” and use them for evil or her own selfish reasons. I have no problem with the storyline of powerful women feeling like monsters and addressing these feelings. In fact, I think it can be quite compelling. It is an interesting story to see a woman deal with the way society, and often the character herself, views her as a monster. It can lead to great character development to see these women come into their own with their power and wield it well. However the problem lies in the fact that this so rarely happens. Instead we see women being unable to handle their power. The character either becomes a victim of their own power in a way, being driven mad by it. Or they taste power and become corrupt. It establishes a precedent that tries to discourage women from any sort of ambition or power.

This trope establishes a sort of glass ceiling of powerfulness. If we look at Dr. Strange in the MCU, he wields similar magic to Wanda and is quite powerful. While he may struggle with knowing how to use his power and fighting for good he does not go mad or become a monster. This trope largely exists to keep women in check. Once a woman reaches a certain power level she goes mad. This gives off the message that women are not capable of holding the same power as men. We as women just don’t know how to handle it. If a woman manages to become extremely powerful without going mad she is often deemed “OP” or “overpowered” by the fandom, think Captain Marvel. And if a woman never accumulates this level of power she is often looked down upon by fans for not being powerful enough, think Natasha Romanoff. 

I think this trope is often the result of not knowing how to write a developed female character or a storyline for them. Women often meet these fates for “shock value” and these stories are often written and produced by men. There are so many stories that can be told with these powerful women. We can see them overcoming these feelings of being a monster, struggling with their own mortality, finding love, feeling isolated, taking on a leadership or mentor role, or any number of storylines. And we do see these storylines. We see them with male characters all the time. Male characters with the same power levels as these female characters have compelling and interesting storylines not focused entirely on their inability to handle power. 

While this trope may not seem like a big deal it can be extremely damaging to women and girls who look up to these characters and find solace in them. It sends the message that they cannot handle the same power levels that men can. It sends the message that they cannot handle the same levels of grief and trauma without going mad. I have seen firsthand fans of characters like Daenerys struggling with the fates these characters meet. They feel afraid that any ambition in their own lives will lead them to be rejected, outcast, and seen as mad.

When it comes to whether or not we will see Wanda’s story and development fall prey to this trope, I think the jury is still out. Much of Wanda’s storyline in the past has focused on her feeling like a monster and being overwhelmed by her powers. However, previous movies have, in my opinion, dealt with this well. We see Vision telling Wanda that he is not afraid of her and that he wishes everyone could see her the way he did. We see Wanda saying “I can’t control their fear, only my own”. I truly hope that Wanda’s story in WandaVision and beyond focuses on this idea that Wanda’s powers do not make her a monster. She is just a woman who has been through so much pain and is hurting. She needs help. She needs to heal. If she does end up “going mad” I truly hope we see a redemption arc that allows her to find peace. Her story and character can be compelling in so many ways other than madness.

In conclusion, I am so incredibly tired of the sexist “Mad Woman” trope. And I am tired of the damage it has done to the psyches of women and girls. It’s time we learn how to tell new complex and meaningful stories about these powerful women. It’s what they, and we, deserve.

[yniswaifu]

1. Aran

The match between black jackals and schweiden adlers was about to start. You see the two teams, a cluster of black and white jerseys on the opposites, and play with the ID card hanging around your neck. The stadium was starting to fill out, but it's okay. You were near the vip section since you weren't there as a spectator, rather working for one of the sponsors. Being in the public relations department sure helped in getting the best spots, as you could see the entire court from where you stood. Also, there were lesser people around, something you were grateful for.

The announcers began their announcement, and Hinata's name came up in the beginning. He was doing his debut with this game, and you smiled to yourself. He deserved to be in such a great team. Your eyes then sweep from player to player in both the teams, before landing on ushijima.

Hot dang.

Not gonna lie, he was attractive. His tall figure flexed when he did warm ups, making the jersey tightened around the biceps. You blinked, eyes zeroing on them. Yep, they fine.

But that wasn't why you were his fan. At least that's what you always tell yourself that you totally liked him for his skills. Unfortunately, the truth couldn't be hidden from the voice beside you as it suddenly stated, "not gonna lie, he got a good physique."

The tone was a playful one, but it still didn't make you any less embarrassed. Specially when it came from an equally attractive man who is also selected to lead the Japan's volleyball team in the olympics.

"m-mr Aran." you stutter in his presence. He had shades on, maybe trying to escape the paparazzi's eyes and his face was neutral.

Why is he talking to you? AND WHY DID HE HAVE TO CATCH YOU OGLING OVER MUSCLES.

Aran smiled at you, feeling a bit flustered himself. He isn't the teasing type, and he would definitely not tease someone he met for the first time.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you." he says, palms up in surrender.

You laugh nervously, turning back to the match. The first whistle blows, and the game begins.

"are you supporting the adlers?" he asks after minutes of silence.

You shake your head, focused on the game. "no. I'm with msby."

Aran's eyebrows furrow in amusement. He wanted to ask you something, and you knew what. It would seem like you're supporting the adlers because of ushijima, but in fact you weren't.

So before he could ask you further, you decided to clear the misconception. "sure, I like ushijima. He's a great player. But I've worked for the other team, and I know how much they rock. Moreover it's Hinata's first game with them. They have to win."

Again, Aran is a little surprised. You seemed into the match, your body moving on reflex with the flow of the game. Your little whispers of encouragement for the black clad team was...cute.

Then he notices the card hanging around your neck. It was only for the official members, like volunteers or sponsors. So he wondered which part did you belong to. Moreover the place where you both stood – wasn't allowed to the public. It was for players and the management team.

"are you a volunteer?" Aran took up the courage to ask you.

You glanced at him, before smiling. "no. I'm part of the PR team for one of the sponsors of the tournament. So I have a pass to be here."

He nods at your words, and a sudden roar around the stadium takes both his and your attention to the super spike ushijima just pulled.

"your crush scored against the team you're rooting for. How do you feel?" he asks you, smirking at the flustered expression on your face.

You laugh a little, shaking your head. "he's not my crush. He's just a player I really admire."

"right...that's why you were giving him googly eyes."

You grow stiff at the words. First of all, you seriously felt anxious standing near Aran. He was not only a great player, but he's also very handsome and he doesn't have any reason to talk to you. Not that you minded, since you are used to interacting with popular players. But none of them have ever used such a...teasing tone with you before.

And here he is, trying to be friendly with a no one like you (at least that's what you think).

"you know." you suddenly say, your nervousness diminishing a little. "I was an intern in the MSBY black jackals PR team."

Why did you say that? You wish you had the answer. Best guess is you don't want another word about ushijima and his muscles out of this man's mouth. And how you were staring at them.

"oh? So that's why you're supporting them." Aran chimes in a thoughtful manner, eyes on the game. Atsumu had just served sakusa, and a sense of pride filled his chest looking at his junior.

"yeah. That's part of it. Another part is because they are amazing at what they do. I've seen it first hand. Not that adlers are bad or anything..." you finish in a mumble. You certainly didn't want to seem biased.

Aran gave out a laugh at your words, highly amused by now. You were awkward and nervous, that much was obvious, but it was funny to see you masking it. He didn't know why he came to stand beside you, he just saw a lone figure who probably didn't look like they cared for what's around them, and decided to stand there when he saw your zoned out expression. It looked funny. Following your line of vision, he sees ushijima warming up. You must have thought no one was around so you didn't bother hiding your expression, and Aran caught you. And he doesn't regret it one bit.

"you were an intern. Which means you didn't have a lot of interaction with the boys huh?" he asks.

"no, not really. I did talk to them a couple of times, when we had to promote the players. The most I've worked with is hinata, as he was new. So I'm familiar with him more than the others."

"cool. You know Atsumu? He was my teammate in school as well." he states, smirking.

You give him a tight smile. "yeah I know. Everyone knows."

Aran's smile drops. Right. Atsumu was popular. Who also had a Wikipedia page for himself. So did Aran. Of course people will know.

Clearing his throat, he doesn't say anything, but stares at you. You had a very simple aura about you. And he kinda dig that. You looked at the players taking a break before the second half of the game, which your team was leading, by the way. The only reason Aran had come was because Atsumu insisted he does. And because Osamu had his stall perched outside the stadium – something he had to check out. Seeing the twins grow up made him feel like a mother watching her children grow up.

Aran suddenly had the urge to ask for your number. But he wasn't sure. You didn't seem the type to share contacts just because the other person is popular or attractive. Moreover he had been getting this feeling that you didn't want to talk to him. And even if not a lot of words were shared between you two – he quite enjoyed this conversation. Too bad you didn't feel the same. According to him.

But oh whatever. You won't know unless you try eh? YOLO.

That's what Aran thought when he decided to ask you. "what's your name? I'm sorry I didn't ask earlier."

You turn to him, eyes widening. Did the Aran ojiro ask your freaking name?

Butterflies, calm down. It's not the time.

"y/n." you say, trying to be as calm as possible.

"y/n." he repeats, your name rolling off like Hershey chocolate syrup from his tongue. Wait what?

"it's a pretty name." he smiles.

It took everything in you to not jump in excitement. Is Aran flirting with you? You don't know whether you should panic or fangirl. It's almost like, fight or flight.

"thanks." you reply, tucking your hair behind the ear. Aran is still smiling, his eyes creasing into crescent moons.

Silence. Awkward silence.

You don't know what else to say. No one prepared you for this type of situation. And the same could be said for the man in front of you. No one told him he is meeting a potential soulmate today.

Breaking the tension first, you check your watch and tell Aran, "uh, I gotta go. The match is coming to an end, and I have to get ready for the press conference."

Aran almost, almost frowns in disappointment. "don't you want to see who wins?" truthfully, he didn't want you to go just yet.

At that you couldn't help but giggle. Are you sure it's the same guy who is the ace for his team and who is going to lead Japan's team?

"mr Aran, I'll know anyway. It's going to be announced throughout the stadium. And in the conference." you say, turning to the score board. "moreover, msby is leading. They are gonna win this." you finish, determination in your voice.

With the conviction you said those words, Aran wished he could get them for himself personally. He wished you could only cheer for him. Because if you did, there's no way he'd even think of losing.

"right. My bad. See you around?" he says, hoping for a positive response.

You thought about it for a moment. Is this right? You are no fool, you completely understand what's going on here. The question is, why.

Aran seemed to notice your hesitation. "it's okay, if you don't want to. No pressure." he says, giving you a smile that didn't really look like a smile.

Way to go y/n, you heartbreaker.

You suddenly had an idea. Quickly taking out your phone, you opened your instagram and shot a text to Aran. "that should do..." you whisper.

Aran looks at you confused. What were you doing?

Smiling, you wave him a goodbye and run off towards the direction of a group of media people.

What just happened?

Aran blinks at your retreating figure when his phone buzzes. It was Osamu. He smiles, and then his eyes go towards the notification. Someone had texted him on instagram. And that someone was you.

"hey. Let's talk!"

He stares at your text for a good minute before bursting out laughing. A couple of people looked at him laughing at something on his phone, but he didn't care. The text gave such a dorky vibe he couldn't help it.

He sent you a laughing emoji, and shoved his phone back into his pocket before walking away, the smile not leaving his face.

Maybe he did meet his soulmate already.

***

It has been exactly four months since you and Aran started talking on Instagram. Yet, Aran hasn't asked for your number. He just didn't get the courage to. He is almost convinced it was love at first sight with you, because since the day he saw you and spoke to you, till now, when he's laughing at the memes you had spammed him with, his head hasn't been felt this light. Even Atsumu had commented during their practice for the olympics, that he was seeing sparkles around him. Of course, that got the setter a smack on the head, but Aran knew it was because of you.

What was he supposed to do. He was falling for you, and he was falling hard.

Looking at the conversation y'all shared one last time, Aran decide enough is enough. He was going to ask for your number.

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, hesitation settling faster than it can be allowed. But will you give him your number? Talking on social media is different, and talking through your personal number is different. It was more...intimate.

Sighing, he throws his phone on the bed, taking his head in his hands. The game was in a few days, and he had to do something about you because you're all he's thinking about.

Suddenly his phone rings and he looks at the caller. Aran has never looked so done than he's doing now.

"what is it?" he answers the call.

"is this how you greet your favourite twin?" Atsumu replies from the other side in mock offended tone.

"I'm not coming to the bar, if that's the reason why you called."

"h-how did you know?" Atsumu asks, almost yelling in the phone.

"because that's like, the only reason you'd call me at this time?"

"..."

"fair enough" the blonde states after a minute of silence.

Just then Aran had a thought. It wouldn't hurt to ask right?

"remember a couple of months back, say, earlier this year, someone had interned for your team." Aran says.

"hmm? A lot of people interned Aran san, who are you talking about?" Atsumu asks, confused.

Aran gave him your name, running down a brief description of how you look, and added the fact that you had spoken to hinata because he was new as well.

"hmm...y/n...I think I remember her." Atsumu says.

Aran's eyes lit up. "so d–"

"are you interested in her?" came the question from the other line.

Shit.

Regret fills Aran not a second after that question. He never considered the fact that he was asking the last person he should ask, specially for a girl's number. This ain't gonna end well.

"...yeah." he answers, a defeated sigh escaping his lips.

Another minute of silence. Cue the dramatic reaction in 3...2...

"ARAN SAN DID YOU FINALLY MEET THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE!?"

It was so loud that Atsumu's voice echoed even when Aran had literally walked away from the phone after setting it down on the bedside table. Why isn't he surprised?

There were some more loud incoherent response, that he didn't bother listening to. He ultimately picked up the phone when a series of 'hellos' flooded through the phone.

"yeah, I'm here." he says, cutting the question off.

"gosh, seriously? How? Why? When? WHAT!?" Atsumu asks, flooding the call with questions again.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Aran narrates the incident briefly. Atsumu screams again.

"I can't believe you found a girl for yourself! That too someone I know!"

Aran smiles as your picture comes to his mind. "yeah. I can't believe it myself."

"so when are you asking her out?"

The smile dropped. "I don't have her number." he mumbled.

"say what?"

"I...don't have her number. I was meaning to ask you if you have it or not." he says, this time more clearly.

"you...why don't you have her number again?" Atsumu asks, perplexed.

"because I felt she'd stop talking to me. She isn't exactly the most open person around."

"hmm. That's kinda true, I'll admit." the Miya says, "even when she was an intern here, she mostly stuck to herself and her work. But she was friendly."

Aran nods to no one in particular. "so? Do you have it?"

"I gotta check. Like you said, she was closer to hinata. If I don't have it then he might have it." Atsumu says before continuing. "wait a minute. What do I get from this?"

Aran's eyebrow raises in confusion. "an awesome sister-in-law?" he states like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Atsumu laughs. "very nice. But I'm serious."

"I'm serious too." Aran says in heartbeat. Did Atsumu think he wasn't serious about you? Rude.

"woah. Okay. But if I get the number, you gotta come to the bar with me." the voice from the other side says.

"cool."

He could at least do this if he gets your number right?

Atsumu cuts the call with a cheer. A few minutes in, Aran's phone pings, and there it was – your number.

I didn't have it. Got it from shoyo. Atsumu wrote.

Thanks man.

You better be there. I'll be waiting.

A'ight.

Feeling giddy, Aran saves the number and sends out a silent prayer that you haven't changed the number.

hey. Is this y/n? Aran texts you, legs bouncing as he sits on his bed.

A second later. who is this?

Aran

Suddenly the phone rings. Panic sets in Aran. He didn't expect you to call.

Picking up the phone, he kept silent, waiting for you to speak.

"how did you get my number?" was the first thing you said.

"I asked Atsumu. Who asked Hinata."

You made a noise, kinda like in disbelief. Then you start laughing. "why didn't you ask me?"

Aran looked guilty. "I...didn't think you would give me your number."

"ah..." you trail off. You couldn't deny it. You were a skeptical person. "I didn't think Hinata would still have my number though..."

"maybe he still thinks you're his friend."

Friend? Sure, Hinata was a friendly person. But being 'friends' with the staff wasn't exactly ideal for players.

"maybe." you say softly.

"ah, I wanted to ask you something." Aran says, after a minute of silence.

Your heart picks up. Was he going to drop the L-bomb? You couldn't deny the affection brewing in you, specially after talking to him for a couple of months now, and knowing how sweet he is.

"w-what did you want to ask?" you ask, stuttering a little.

"will you be there on the day of the game?"

You had the urge to roll your eyes and pass a snarky comment. If there was something that amused you like heck, it was this habit of Aran where he would ask the most obvious questions. Like meeting a someone in the movie theater and asking "whatchu doing here?"

"yes. We are one of the sponsors." you answer, moving aside the urge. This sweet man doesn't deserve that sass.

"oh great. So...will you meet me before the game? I gotta tell you something."

Your eyes widen. Millions questions run in your mind and all point to one direction – something that you don't want to believe is true.

"okay." you answer, your voice coming out a little strained.

"really? Cool! I'll see you then. Goodnight." Aran beams before cutting the call.

You blink at the black screen of your phone. Did he really call you for this? Men are so confusing.

***

Aran was nervous. The room was brimming with men dressed in the red team uniform, and his eyes was floating between the teammates. It lingered a longer on ushijima, and he mind went back to the time when you had commented on ushijima's birthday post with lots of hearts. The jealousy he felt, sheesh.

Then he turns to sakusa. According to you, he was the only one you never spoke to even once. He mostly kept to himself, but every fellow intern with you swooned over the mysterious man. He had grimaced at that. Did y/n too swooned? Guess we'll never know.

Finally, his eyes land on Atsumu who was talking to bokuto. He was the only one who knew about you, and Aran worried that he will open his big mouth, but the blonde proved to be more faithful than that. But it still didn't stop him from hammering Aran with questions about you.

Aran's eyes flickered to his phone every other minute, waiting for the text from you, saying you were here. You had told him you'll text him, so he was waiting for the go.

"you have been staring at the phone since forever." a chirpy voice brings him out of the daydream.

He turns to see Hinata, smiling up at him. "are you waiting for something?"

Before Aran could answer, his phone pings and the screen turns on, displaying your name (that had multiple hearts beside it) and the text saying you were waiting for him outside in the corridor.

Both he and Hinata stared at the phone, at your text. Suddenly the tangerine goes, "is y/n your girlfriend Aran san!?"

And boy, was he loud.

Every pair of eyes in the room turned to their flustered looking captain, who just stood there speechless. Atsumu, who was mirroring Aran, jumped to defend him.

"h-hey now. Let's leave him alone. I'm sure it's nothing–"

"ah, I see y/n standing there though. Hi y/n!"

Atsumu turns to see bokuto and Hinata at the entrance, waving at someone. Too late.

Slowly everyone poured out of the room, looking at the one who apparently stole their leader's heart.

You.

And you? Yeah, you are definitely representing a new born calf with your shaky legs. No matter how many people you have met through your job – a group of hunks, who are also national players mind you, and at least a head taller than you, staring at you like you're some sort of star, doesn't help.

It looked like a herd of huskies looking at a small mouse.

You wanted to run away.

Hinata walks up to you, clapping your shoulder lightly. "long time no see y/n!" he greets you, smile wide.

You give him a nervous smile. "hey shoyo kun..."

"so you're dating Aran san?" bokuto pipes in from behind Hinata.

Your eyes almost pop out of your sockets? What in the world...

"no I'm not." you say, firmly but politely.

His eyebrows scrunched in a frown. "then why did he have hearts beside your name?" he murmurs to himself.

You didn't quite catch that. So you ask, "pardon?"

"nothing. It's nothing." you finally hear the voice of the person because of who you came all the way here. And even put in a little effort with the makeup.

Aran walks up to you three with long strides, his expression almost panicky. He stands beside you and sighs. "guys. Please. Let her breathe."

Both hinata and bokuto look at each other before exchanging a knowing smirk and step back a few steps. Something you were grateful for. It was getting too much.

Aran smiled at you softly before introducing you to everyone. A series of 'hi' and 'hello' circled around in response. Hinata, bokuto and Atsumu knew who you were already. Atsumu even went beyond and did a dramatic bow before taking your hands in his and tried to place a kiss but Aran's loud clearing of throat and your panicked face stopped him.

But nothing prepared you for ushijima's turn. He just stood in front of you, his eyes unblinking and his face without expression. You almost mistook him for an android, when he gives you a small smile. "hello."

It was a polite smile, something people do out of curtsy but that didn't stop you from internally squealing because OH MY GOODNESS USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI JUST SMILED AT ME.

Aran saw how your palms were in a fist. You were trying not to fangirl, he noticed. It made him a little sad to be honest. If only he would get the same reaction from you.

"hello." you say, trying to focus. "all the best for the game. All of you."

Everyone thanked you before they all went inside the room, leaving you alone with Aran. They could see how eager he was to be with you in some privacy.

Aran turns to you and smiles again, but that quite didn't reach his eyes. You frowned at that.

"are you nervous for the game?" you ask him.

Aran shakes his head. "a little. But I know we'll be fine."

"then what's got you looking so forlorn?"

Aran chuckles at your choice of words. He knew you liked reading classics, and that's where you got most of your vocabulary from. "it's nothing. I'm happy to see you. Sorry for the chaos in the beginning." he points towards the door.

You smile. "it's okay. I was a little surprised when I saw bokuto san and shoyo."

"yeah..."

Aran looked distracted. His hands were clasped together and he looked everywhere but you. You tilted your head, wondering what's gotten into him.

"mr Aran, are you okay?" you ask, your voice carrying concern, something that felt like music to the man in front of you.

He stares at you. You squirm a little under the intense gaze, and as much as you wanted to stare back and get lost in those eyes, you had to be sure this is going towards where you think it's going.

Suddenly Aran steps closer, his chest hitting your chin. You look up at him and before you could understand what's happening, he cups your hands in his large hands and place a deep, but soft kiss on your lips.

At that moment, your first instinct was to check whether there were other people in the area.

His lips were soft. You always thought they were. They looked so soft that you had asked him what he used for his lips and actually went and bought the same chapstick. They were also thick, something you were a little envious of.

But oh well, those same luscious lips are smooching the heck outta you.

You grabbed his forearms that held your face delicately. Aran parted his lips more, and you bit on his bottom lip, earning a soft groan from him.

As for Aran, yeah. You can say he was ready to drop on one knee and ask your hand for marriage. He was THAT crazy about you. And the kiss just took the cherry on the cake.

Aran parted from you, both of your eyes in a daze, before he snapped back to reality. His eyes widened at your hooded eyes and parted lips. He tried to remove his hands from you but your grip on him stopped him.

"you really need to check your surrounding before doing something like that." you state moments later. Your eyes looked more clear now, and you were staring at him with some unknown emotion.

Aran gulped and looked around, finding the place empty except for the two of you.

"I'm so sor–"

"sorry doesn't cut it." you cut him off. You weren't even smiling. Are you mad at him?

Aran doesn't know why he suddenly kissed you. He just wanted to. You looked beautiful. You are beautiful. And Aran wanted to kiss you.

Suddenly your face breaks into a small smile. "I don't need your apology. I want you to ask me out so I can say yes."

He just looks at you, stunned. So...his feelings are reciprocated?

Aran wanted nothing more than to just hug you and jump around in joy. Even shout out his love for you. But if he did that it will cause trouble. So he's gonna reserve that for when the two of you are alone.

Placing his forehead on yours, he asks in a whisper. "will you be mine y/n? I'll treat you like a queen."

"only if you get me a selfie with ushijima and his autograph."

Aran laughs, his head too high in the clouds to even feel jealous. He knows you don't mean it. He knows you are his. And he is yours.

"but it's you I'll be cheering the most for. Get em' captain." you finish the sentence.

Aran nods, your foreheads still against each other. He wanted to cry. But no, not yet. He's going to win this game for you. And hug you in front of everyone. And then cry in your arms. And then–

"you should go inside. It's almost time." your voice snaps him back from the fantasy.

He looks at you, now standing a little apart from him. Your hands were beside you, and you were giving him the googly eyes now.

Taking your hands in his, he kisses your knuckles. "I love you." he says, and walks off, leaving you a hot mess.

Well, this is interesting, you think, smiling in anticipation for what's to come.

Best boy Aran deserves a good scenario too. And I hope it lives up to his expectations. 😬

I got three more scenarios coming up for my three favourite boys – Osamu, Suna, and husband Kita. I'm not sure when I'll update it but it's coming soon. Stay tuned.

[daydreaming-in-letters]

School Prize Night

(A Good night, Mr Cavill Sequel)

Part 1 - Through my eyes

07/07/2021

Pairing: teacher!Henry Cavill x plus-size teacher!reader (3rd person)

Word Count: 2,531

Warnings: rpf, body issues, self-loathing, angst, sexual innuendos, comforting, fluff, Henry being the sweetest boyfriend a (plus-size) girl could ask for

Summary: It's School Prize Night at Miss Y/L/N and Mr Cavill's school. But as she is getting ready for the event, she finds it impossible to accept her reflection in the mirror.

A/N: As I already feared, this dream of a man simply refuses to leave my thoughts. And so I used the first day of the summer holidays to come up with a four part sequel to Good night, Mr Cavill. So here is the first part. I'm afraid it has become a little angsty, but I promise to make it up to you with a lot of teasing and passion in the other parts.

Picture found on Pinterest

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. Please don’t copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

For a long time she had been wondering what to say whenever someone asked her what her special talent was. Now she knew, pinching her paunch harshly between her fingers until it formed a prominent, round bulge. Self-loathing. That’s what she was good at. A profession she had perfected over the last years.

And as if to prove her point, half the contents of her wardrobe lay scattered around her feet, mocking her with all their colourful beauty that magically turned into hideous abominations as soon as they covered her form. If she didn’t know any better, she would let herself believe that she was somehow cursed—a gorgeous princess trapped inside the body of a manatee. But sadly it wasn’t that simple and instead of an evil witch she could only blame herself for the reflection she saw in the mirror.

Giving herself another once over, she actually considered covering her eyes to spare herself the view, when thankfully her eyes seemed to have mercy on her tortured soul and salty tears began to blur her vision. Too late, as she noticed. The gears of self-hate had already started to turn and once they were in motion, nothing could stop them, pulling her deeper and deeper into the darkness.

She hardly realised that her whole body was trembling by now, her knees finally giving out underneath the weight of the world that pressed down upon her shoulders, making her sink onto the plush carpet with a heartbroken sob while the world around her fell away.

“Darling?” The familiar voice came from somewhere down the hallway, but she couldn’t hear it in the state she was in. “Do you have any idea how to tie a decent Windsor knot? I’ve watched this stupid video about a million times by now and I just can’t seem to—“

His heart almost stopped beating as he stepped into the bedroom, his eyes immediately falling onto the pitiful picture of misery that used to be his girlfriend, crumbled into a tight package in front of the mirror.

“Y/N?” But instead of an answer there just came another soul shaking sob from the huddled creature and he didn’t waste another second to get over to her. “Whatever is the matter, love?” His voice was warm and soothing as he squatted down beside her, but it was still not enough to break through to her. Desperate to find a clue as to what might have caused her distress, he took in the setting and when his eyes finally landed on the pile of clothes that surrounded her devastated form, he suddenly understood.

With a sigh he sat down beside her, wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug before he pulled her onto his lap. “Sh, darling. Don’t cry,” he cooed, rocking her in his arms like a child. Slowly his hand drifted across her hair, as if his touch could just stroke her pain away, his lips tenderly pressing down on the crown of her head, before his cheek finally came to rest there.

“Well, what else am I supposed to do,” she croaked hoarsely, and the only thing that pained him more than the agony in her voice were her next words, “considering that you will leave me someday soon.”

He knew that it was only her insecurity speaking and yet he felt a bit slighted that she still couldn’t fully believe his feelings for her were nothing but true.

“Now why would I do that?” he muttered into her hair as calmly as he could, “I love you, Y/N, and as long as you don’t want me to, I’m not going anywhere.”

Something about his words must have finally gotten through to her as he could feel the sobs die away bit by bit and he was almost positive that he would find a small smile on her face when she wriggled out of his embrace, but to his surprise he was met with a pair of defiant eyes.

“How can you be so sure of that? It’s only been three months, Hen. That’s probably just the hormones talking, and once they’re back to their normal levels, you’ll finally see the real me. And I can’t blame you if you want to run as soon as you realise what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“Hey!” he barked, his hands clutching her face in a firm grip to make her look at him. “You know how much I hate when you talk about yourself like that.”

“Yeah, well, I guess it’s easier to love yourself when one looks like you,” she spat and he regretted his harsh words instantly as he saw the tears that were threatening to fall again.

“Oh, no, darling. No, no, no. This is not about me and my body image, it’s about you.” He sighed again, his jaw clenching dangerously and he needed to close his eyes for a second to force his anger back down to its source. “I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to see yourself the way I do, maybe not, but that doesn’t give you the right to question the way I feel for you. You see, just because it’s hard for you to love yourself, doesn’t mean it’s hard for me as well.”

And there they were, the tears that had been threatening to fall again, streaming down her cheeks freely now. “I’m so sorry, Hen. I should never have—“

“You bloody well shouldn’t have,” he said sternly, but then his eyes softened like they always did whenever he looked at her and he pulled her closer to press his lips to her forehead in a symbol of forgiveness.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, her head fell down onto his shoulder and she nuzzled his warm skin affectionately. “Ugh, I’m such a mess,” she mumbled, and he could feel her lips move against his skin.

“No, you’re not, darling. Like so many, you’ve been traumatised by an ideal created by the media and greedy companies, telling you to constantly chase after their standard of beauty instead of focusing on those things that truly matter.”

For a moment, a deafening silence settled between them, but he knew she simply needed a while to think about his words. And just when he could feel the uneasiness of doubt crawl from the pit of his stomach, she sighed, a deep sound of realisation that soothed his worry.

“I guess you’re right,” her muffled voice came to his ears from the crook of his neck. “You always are. Perfect idiot.”

Her little remark coaxed an amused chuckle from his chest and he could feel her body tremble in his arms from the vibration. But when his face fell upon their reflection in the mirror, the short moment of lightness suddenly died away and he wished with all his heart that just once he could give her his eyes before he would lift her around her body so she could feel what he felt whenever he looked at her. Grasp the reason why he loved her so much and why he never wanted to look at anyone else for the rest of his days. If only—

Silently he signalled it was time for them to get up and as soon as he stood, he offered her his hand and pulled her up against his chest. Colliding softly with his firm pecs, she could feel his lips brush against her ear, his deep voice causing a shiver to run across her skin.

“Do you trust me?” he whispered, his hands drifting over the small of her back and down to her full cheeks, squeezing them reassuringly.

“Of course I do.”

“Then close your eyes.”

And so she did, without hesitation. Slowly she could feel his hands glide up her body again, stopping at her waist when he ordered, “Now turn around.”

His strong hands guided her as she carefully obeyed his wish again and she could feel his hot palms come to rest on her stomach, her back securely leant against his chest.

“Hold out your hands, sweetheart, palms facing upwards,” he demanded, and she wasn’t sure what exactly caused the heat to pulse through her nether regions, his hot breath that fanned across her shoulder, the authority in his voice, or the enticing combination of both. She had no idea what he was up to, but she couldn’t help the slight pang she felt when his hands suddenly left her body. He must have picked up on the little twitch of her lips before she could stop herself from pouting, judging from the triumphant chuckle that made his chest quake. Cocksure bastard.

But then she could feel his touch again, his fingers gently gliding along her forearm until his hands pushed underneath hers.

“Let me show you something, darling.” And as if the dark timbre of his voice would actually leave her a choice but to let him take over from here, his lips ghosted across the sensitive spot of her neck to ensure her compliance.

She was still trying to concentrate again when she felt something squishy and warm underneath her fingertips and it actually took her a second to realise that he had brought their joined hands to her belly. On reflex, she tried to pull away, but his grip on her tightened to hold her back.

“No,” he growled, his lips close to her ear again. “I want you to feel yourself, to try and see yourself through my eyes. Just a few minutes, that’s all I ask.” But still he didn’t proceed until he could feel her resistance melt away. “Can you feel how soft your belly is? So velvety smooth, it’s practically inviting you to touch it, to caress it, to relish in its malleability. Mmmh, so wonderfully soft,” he moaned his appreciation, making her insides tingle pleasantly.

“And here, can you feel this?” He guided her hands towards her hips, pressing her fingertips into the supple flesh. Slowly moving back and forth, she could make out the small ripples he had probably wanted her to notice. “I know you hate your stretch marks, but whoever decided to call them that probably had no idea what they truly are.” He made a short pause to emphasise his next words. “They’re tiger stripes. And you earned them all on your way to becoming the strong tigress you are. So be proud of them.”

She had wanted to protest when his lips pressed lovingly to her temple, a gesture that always made her soft for him, and her will to speak up against his sugarcoating of her flaws fizzled out.

“Mmmmmh,” he sighed again, as he lead her hands to her rear, “now let’s come to one of my favourites.” Slowly he made her hands move in circles across her behind, as if this was necessary to help her visualise the incredible magnitude of her butt. And to top it all off, the absence of her visual sense seemed to further enhance the depths of the dips and dents that coated its surface.

“It’s not only the luxurious lushness of your behind that compels me to run my hands along it as often as I can and squeeze it tightly. No.” He growled lowly again, his teeth sinking into her shoulder as he made her fingers dig into her cheeks and this time she found it impossible to hold back a moan. “I wish you could see the way it jiggles and quivers with every thrust of my hips when I take you from behind. It’s magnificent.”

“Oh God, Henry,” she mewled when she could feel the treacherous wetness pool between her legs, soaking her panties in an instant. She wanted to pull away again, but this time to spin around and press her body against his while her lips devoured his filthy mouth before it could drive her completely insane with need. And yet again, Henry was stronger, securing her in her current position for just a little longer.

“I see you’re starting to get the point of this whole exercise. Good for you, darling.”

“Henry, please,” his teasing made her whine, as it always did, and she almost missed how he hooked her fingers underneath the straps of her bra to peel away the obstructive lace.

“Sh, don’t fuss. This is the best part, I promise.”

And with that he closed her hands around her voluptuous breasts, massaging them tenderly. “Did I promise too much? This really is the good stuff, isn’t it? I don’t think I’ve ever held anything as fluffy as these two delights in my hands. I still remember the way they moved to the rhythm of our lovemaking that first night. So enchanting. But you know what is even better?” he asked, his head dipping down to nuzzle her neck yearningly. “To rest my head upon your chest after we both came undone. I love to be embedded by this softness while I can listen to your heartbeat. There is something so utterly bewitching about witnessing how it slowly calms down after I made you touch the sky.”

Without thinking twice her eyes flew open, just in time to catch a glimpse of all the affection his heart held for her as it reflected so openly in his blue eyes.

“Oh Hen!” And finally he didn’t hold her back when she tried to spin around, cupping his stubbly cheeks gently in her hands. “I love you so much.”

And without giving him the chance to answer, her lips found his, moving with them until she didn’t know anymore where she ended and he began. Her head still spinning slightly, she broke away, their heavy pants the only noise that filled the silence for a while.

“And I love you.” A beaming smile curled his lips, passing on to hers while it slowly set her on fire. “Even the parts you despise. Maybe I love them the most. And I will not stop loving them for the both of us until you can love them too.”

She didn’t know what she could have possibly replied to that. He was right, it was still a long way to go. There would always be difficult times. After all, self-love wasn’t a permanent state she would be in for good once it was reached. She rather saw it as a concept, an idea she would possibly never reach in her life, but at least she could count on him to be there and help her see through his eyes whenever she was struggling.

“Now, can I make a suggestion regarding your outfit?” he derailed her train of thought. “Take the white summer dress with the pink peonies I love so much. You know how great your ass looks in that, don’t you?” He smirked while, once again, his fingers dug into her behind.

“So you keep telling me, Hen.”

“Because it’s true.” His lips briefly brushed over the tip of her nose. “And it will remind me all night long of all the things I’m going to do to you as soon as we get back here.”

Part 2

***

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[writing-gifts]

both sides of the viewfinder chp. 1

adult film star!bruno x afab!reader  (they are also gn)

this is 18+ content

summary:  Bruno's interested in you and you're interested in him. It's only a matter of time.

chapter 1 || chapter 2 || chapter 3 || chapter 4

------

A/N: okay so this is gonna be 3 chapters. the last chapter’s smut, but there’s pretty suggestive stuff happening in the 2nd chapter

i did research for this and wanted to try to make it more on the realistic side but there's always the chance that i messed up somewhere, so if you wanna point it out go ahead. it'll be good to know for the future!

------

This wasn't your first time filming for sex work but you felt a little out of your element. The studio that recently hired you was much bigger than what you were used to and considering that you were mainly doing freelance work before, this made everything feel much more professional and serious. Their work had to be highly produced.

"--We aren’t super strict about that, but you should definitely tell me before you go anywhere."

Right now, you were being given a quick tour by one of the people you'd be working with--the Director of Photography. Jocelyn was pretty much your manager and would be giving you most of the orders.

You continue to follow behind her as she continues to show you around. But you couldn't help eyeing the high quality lights and cameras you pass as she talked though. The equipment must have been worth a lot.

Once she has finished showing you around, she leads you back to the set filled with the crew that you passed earlier.

You listen closely as she goes over the details of the film.

"This will be the room where the main scene will take place. Today we will have you operating one of the stationary cameras, but since you’ve done stuff like this before I decided to let you do it without someone breathing down your neck. Just follow my orders."

You like the woman already. "Thank you."

"The shoot will start in--" she checks her watch, "--about an hour. Today is just filming for you but you know you’ll be doubling up as a runner when necessary. We might also have you help with other tasks while you work here too."

You nod to show you understand.

She smiles, "If you have any questions don't be afraid to ask me or any of your co-workers. Try to avoid asking the director though…."

-------

You adjust the headphones on your head as you stand in front of the camera you'd be in charge of today.

Working it should be simple enough since you didn't have to actually move. You just needed to make sure it stayed in focus so they had more options when it came to angles.

About 10 minutes later, the two actors starring today show up dressed in fairly nice clothes that they wouldn't be wearing for too long. One of them seemed quite friendly with everyone. He must be pretty popular you think.

Before you can recede to your thoughts, you recognize him.

Is that Bruno Bucciarati?

You quickly confirm that it is and turn your body away from him and towards the camera, as if doing that would hide you. You weren't necessarily a stan but you did follow him on social media. And perhaps you did subscribe to his OnlyFans. And there's a good chance you paid money for some of his work.

It wasn't your fault that he was one of the few male stars you found attractive!

You shake your head. This was work. Don't get starstruck.

Luckily, it doesn't take you long to get distracted with the camera. You rarely get to operate such expensive equipment like this so you find yourself looking at all it had to offer.

While you neglect socializing with the people you would be working with from now on, someone comes up to you.

"You look so focused."

Your eyes widen from the sudden voice and you pull down your headphones as you look to the side. "Oh sorry--" When you see who it is the rest of your statement dies in your throat.

However, Bruno isn't deterred by your abrupt stop. "You must be the new camera person."

You stare a second too long before nodding.

He holds out a hand and you have to calm your shaking one before reaching out and grabbing his. His hand was really warm.

“Nice to meet you, my name's Bruno Bucciarati."

"I'm ____. I've actually seen some of your work before! You really are as handsome as in the videos."

Even though you're straight-faced, you were regretting what you just said. It was a simple compliment but what if it was too much? His looks did astound you though, there was no denying it. And you really didn't understand how he managed to pull off that haircut.

You smile to ease the tension within yourself and Bruno returns it. Whether it was genuine or out of politeness you didn't know, but it helps you relax.

"Thank you," he says.

“Okay everyone get in your damn places! We’ll be starting soon!”

Your brows raise at the director’s choice of words.

Bruno turns back to you. "Well, let's do our best to get through this."

You nod and watch him walk towards the bed where his co-star is waiting, and the director immediately starts going over what he wants the two of them to do once he’s there.

You decide to do a quick second check on your camera to make sure everything is still working properly before waiting patiently for the director to start.

------

Between some cuts and breaks, filming’s done about 6 hours later. You’d been informed about the typical work time so you weren't surprised. The porn from this studio was highly produced, with a few “amateur” looking works thrown in, so it was the norm. But this was the longest you had worked on one film. So depending on how particular the director was, you would need to be prepared to do at least several hours of filming when behind the camera.

You rub your eyes. It's only 4 pm but you're yearning for your bed. You could only imagine how tired the actors were.

Right after you turn off the camera, Jocelyn calls you over.

"You did well today and looks like you don't need any serious training. Good job!" she praises.

You guessed you passed the new hire "test". That gave you a bit of an energy boost and you can't help the smile on your face.

While you remove the camera from its tripod, you begin to retreat to your mind. And of course, your mind wanders to a certain actor.

Bruno was good at what he did. Really good. And the other actor seemed to genuinely enjoy working with him too. For a second, you wonder what it's like.

You glance up and accidentally make eye contact with a now fully clothed Bruno. The man walks towards you and even though you had watched him just have sex for multiple hours, you feel nervous.

“What’s up?” you ask when he's close enough.

"Nothing. I like to check up on newcomers, but you must have worked in this field for a while since they usually tend to have some hang ups."

"Uh yea. I've been doing stuff like this for awhile. Good work today by the way."

"Same with you. It was long but things went as smoothly as they could."

You nod in agreement and finish folding up the tripod. “They did, but honestly that one position you were in looked super uncomfortable! Is your back okay?”

The man laughs. “I'll be fine. That was pretty tame to be fair.”

“Wow, you must be super fit or flexible then...” You notice your coworkers walking off with equipment and decide its best to end the conversation so you can follow them. "Oh, I need to put away this stuff. Thanks for checking up on me though!"

Bruno smiles at you and you scurry off with the camera and the tripod.

-----

You'd been here a week so far. Each day varied with things to do and you never really knew what you'd exactly be working on until you got to the studio.

For today you had a list of various tasks but the first one was conducting a pre-shoot interview with the actors for the porn being shot in an hour.

You look through the viewfinder at the two men sitting on the couch. You were already recording but the interview hadn't started just yet.

“It’s been awhile since I've done an interview so bear with me...” you mumble while going over the questions in your head.

“No pressure ____,” Bruno says.

The man doesn't seem bothered but Prosciutto, on the other hand, isn’t as laid back.

“You should at least have a list of questions prepared,” the blonde says.

"Yep right here!" You pull out a piece of paper from your pocket. From the list you could tell this collaboration had been long requested by their fans.

“I did my best to remember it but just in case…” You place the paper on a surface out of view.

You readjust the camera on your shoulder before speaking again. “Okay, let's start with names you say.”

You focus the camera on Bruno. You wish you had a tripod, but they were insistent on having you walk around with the damn thing to make it feel more “personal”.

"I’m Bruno Bucciarati."

You then turn the camera to focus on Prosciutto.

"I’m Prosciutto."

“So I know this is the first time you both are working together. How are we feeling?”

Bruno smiles. “I'm feeling pretty good and ready to work. How about you, Prosciutto?”

“Pretty much how I do before any shoot.”

“And what's that?” you ask.

Prosciutto crosses his arms. “Mostly relaxed but looking forward to it of course.”

"That's good. I know it'll be tiring filming and from how highly requested this seems to be, the director's going to want this to be perfect. But I'm hoping you guys still have fun."

"I'm sure we will, but I still don't know why so many people wanted us to work together," Prosciutto says.

Bruno nods. "Agreed. I feel like we’ve rarely interacted until now."

"Well people like seeing attractive people together. And I've actually seen fancams of you two interacting on Twitter. It's pretty entertaining!"

“You search those up?” Bruno asks.

“No, they just show up on my timeline sometimes.”

“...So you're a fan of Bruno then?” You weren't sure why but you sense a bit of judgement coming from Prosciutto.

"A little, but let's move on." You take a peek at the paper. "So who’s receiving and who’s catching?"

You raise a brow at how the question’s phrased.

Bruno looks at Prosciutto. “Don't you think we should let the film speak for itself.”

The blonde hums in agreement. “If they need to know so badly, they can skip ahead.”

“True. I think either way would be fun to watch though,” you say.

“Definitely. You should let me know what you think later.” Bruno says.

You don't mean to smile but it's already happening. "Sure."

“You're real unprofessional flirting with the camera person in the middle of an interview,” Prosciutto chides.

“It's just some banter. Are you jealous?”

Prosciutto tsks at Bruno's statement.

You shake your head deciding not to acknowledge those comments. The editor would have to cut out that bit. The two seemed to get along well enough for work but you had a feeling they would get on each other's nerves if they stayed together too long.

“Okay so this is definitely a good question to ask next. What do you guys like about each other? Either personality or physical wise."

Prosciutto glances at Bruno before speaking. “I can admit that the man has a nice….physique.”

You grin. "You sound like I'm putting a gun to your head."

The man fixes you with a very unamused look but you continue on smiling.

"What about you Bruno?" you ask.

“Well he has an attractive face and body, of course. His stubbornness is enjoyable at times too.”

“Stubbornness?”

Prosciutto seems to have the same question as you because he looks at Bruno for his explanation.

“Yes it's a good trait to have in certain situations.” Bruno returns the blonde’s stare. “It'll also make seeing him unravel much more interesting.”

The two of them are now looking at each other very intently and you feel like you should leave the room. But you need to finish the interview.

“Nice...so this is the last question. Is there anything specific you two are looking forward to?”

Fortunately, the two of them can still hear you and respond.

Bruno hums, “I suppose it's been awhile since I've given a blowjob, so there's that.”

"...And I'm looking forward to receiving one."

You let out a chuckle, “Okay, Prosciutto I see what you're about.” You quickly skim the list of interview questions. "Well looks like that's it! You guys ready to go?”

They both give you their positive answers.

“Then let's get you guys ready for the shoot."

Bruno smiles while Prosciutto's face stays neutral.

After that statement you stop recording.

“Okay, nice job guys!” You look at the clock on the wall. “That went pretty fast. So you can go ahead and head to the set.”

Prosciutto nods and exits the room but Bruno stays behind.

“Are you going to be helping film for the shoot?” he asks.

You gently place the camera down on the table where you left the paper.

“No, I have to go out and buy some things for something being filmed later this week. And then I have to go do some other stuff around the studio…” You laugh, “They really have me running around!”

Bruno looks slightly concerned. “You’d prefer to stay behind the camera the whole time right?���

“Yep but that's okay. I already knew what I was getting into, and I get paid better pretty well for it.” You look back up at the clock. “I’ll definitely be back for the interview after filming though so I should see you then.”

Bruno nods. "Okay, good luck with your errands."

----

By the end of the day, you're exhausted. Your list of tasks wasn't hard, you just ended up moving a lot more than you planned. You even almost forgot to take your break in your hustle.

When you return to your apartment, you eat something and take a quick shower before dressing up for bed. And once you're snuggled up in your covers, you decide to check your Twitter to see if anything interesting has happened.

While scrolling through the random posts retweeted throughout the day, you happen upon a pretty suggestive picture of Bruno in lingerie. He posted it not too long ago.

Nice.

You click on his icon to check his page to see if there’s anything else new, and under his username notice the words follows you.

Your eyes widen and you double check and refresh to make sure you're not seeing things. You go into your notifications and see that he followed you a couple hours ago. You really weren't sure what to do. It would be weird if you messaged him, right?

You take a deep breath and decide to take the chance. Bruno probably got hundreds of messages so it shouldn't be a big deal.

hi, i saw that you followed me. just making sure you didn't make a mistake lol

Before you can overthink it you send the message. After that you go back to his page and like and retweet the lingerie photo, but you still need a distraction so you wouldn't obsess over a possible reply. When you're thinking of getting out of bed, a message from Bruno pops up.

You quickly open it to see the full message.

No mistakes here. I searched you up and saw that you already followed me so I wanted to follow back.

It's not the first time you've been followed by pornstars or coworkers you worked with, but it was honestly still rare. And something about it being Bruno made your heart beat faster. You momentarily think about everything you retweeted in the last hour, before sending a message back.

oh okay, thx! i'll try not to bother you too much, you probably get a lot of messages

A few seconds pass before you get another reply.

Not necessarily. I have DMs off for people I don't follow. I love my fans but they can get...rowdy. Either way, you can message me whenever you want.

Wow, what would you even talk about with Bruno outside of work related things...

oh, that makes sense. well i guess i’ll take you up on the offer ^^

You see the three dots going for a while before another message appears.

I saw you retweeted my picture.

Your heart skips a beat.

oh god, now i feel embarrassed all of a sudden!

No don’t be. I'm glad you like it.

You smile to yourself.

yea, you look really good in lingerie ...you look good in anything tbh or without anything lmao

You feel like you're about to say something really embarrassing if this conversation continues and quickly type up another message before he can respond.

i’m really tired so i’m going to get ready for bed

The three dots disappear for a moment before showing up again.

Shame, I would have liked talking more. But I understand, you looked really exhausted during the post interview.

yea i was but it’s no biggie and we can message later ❤

Okay then, sleep well ____.

good night 😴

You close out of the app after that and honestly, that went way better than you were expecting.

[antebunny]

Parent Trap AU 5

It’s a Parent Trap AU, plus on-the-run hacker!wwx and celebrity!lwj. Full series here.

-

At first, Lan Wangji finds writing songs to be extremely challenging.

He’s all but quit his job, and his son is gone. He’s alone in the house he once shared with his family, while his brother tries to keep quiet about pitying him and supporting him, and his uncle demands to know why he has no interest in searching for his son. He’s the one that files the kidnapping report, in the end. Not that it does much; they’re already searching for Wei Ying, since he escaped from prison.

All Lan Wangji really does, during this time, is cry by his piano, and sing.

The melodies come naturally to him. He’s been writing melodies for years, and these songs are no different. He has a thousand things to say, so some are angry, so fast he thinks he might tear his fingers on the guitar strings, some are soft with only piano accompaniment. All too soon he has dozens of recordings of phrases that can be put together into full-length songs. The only one he doesn’t record is the one he wrote for guqin, years ago.

But the lyrics, the lyrics he struggles with for ages. Not Lan Wangji finds himself at a loss for what to say. He doesn’t speak much, it’s true, but when he does he always finds precisely what he wants to say. Rather, Lan Wangji finds he has too much to say.

One Friday afternoon, he sits down on his couch and plays the same ten-minute ballad on his guitar, trying again and again to find a way to shorten it without feeling like he’s ripping a part of his already shattered heart out of his chest. While suppressing the urge to write more verses. He knows he can’t leave them all in; it’s too repetitive. He wants these songs to be good, though he doesn’t really plan on marketing them. A large part of him thinks it’ll always be like this. Just him and his instruments, alone in the living room, mourning over a love long lost, making himself cry over his own lyrics.

Still, Lan Wangji is a perfectionist at heart. He has to do something about the ten-minute ballad. It’s longer than two songs put together.

What if I made them two separate songs?

The thought comes to Lan Wangji suddenly, and he sets down his guitar to pick up the notebook containing the lyrics. This could work. He becomes convinced of this the longer he looks at the lyrics. He’ll never run out of things to say about Wei Ying, but if he separated each of those things into one song–that could work.

He chooses a different melody, edits the lyrics to fit it, picks out a theme, an aspect of Wei Ying to sing about, and suddenly he has a whole discography, and not a single published song.

Lan Wangji goes to his brother.

“Are you sure about this?” Lan Xichen asks, his brows pulled together in a small, worried dip.

“Mn.”

They stare at each other without speaking, because Lan Xichen knows that every concern he might think of, Lan Wangji has already over thought.

“Even if he hears them?”

Lan Wangji will never be famous enough that Wei Ying, wherever in the world he might be, will hear his songs. But if he does, then all the better. “Mn.”

Lan Xichen sighs. “I just don’t want to see you hurt anymore.”

Lan Wangji doesn’t think that’s possible. “Hm.”

Lan Xichen sighs again. “Okay,” he says. “If that’s what you want. I’m sure A-Yao knows someone. I’ll ask.”

It’s a while before he finds someone who’ll actually produce his music, but he’s happy with the person he ends up with. Luo Qingyang emails him back almost immediately after she listens to his demo.

I need you down here yesterday, she says. This is getting produced right now.

His first song, When We Were Young, is released as a single less than a year after the scandal that took Wei Ying from his life, under the stage name “Hanguang-jun.” He’s not sure it fits, but he wants to.

And suddenly, it looks like Lan Wangji might actually be that famous.

Of course, it’s still years in the future, so Lan Wangji carries on like he’s not. His second single, At First Glance, does even better than When We Were Young, and his manager starts bothering him about a music video. Apparently it’s expected of him, but Lan Wangji rejects all of the ideas that the directors Luo Qingyang finds for him come up with. They end up renting a house for a week and filming there, then going to a studio with lights and a piano. Lan Wangji dresses up for that and plays his heart out, and that’s it, that’s the music video.

His third single, Under Moonlight, is somehow more popular than his previous two combined. He has fans now, or maybe it’s just that he’s only now realizing it. He’s not quite sure what to do with that. The video this time takes place on the very bridge the song talks about. He doesn’t do much, since he rejected the idea of hiring actors to play the “counterpart,” so he’s confused as to why it continues gaining views on YouTube. Apparently he looks young. He’s not sure if this is insulting or not, but the internet would probably be shocked to learn he has a five-year-old son.

Lan Sizhui is too young to listen to music by himself, so Lan Wangji hopes that somewhere, there’s a radio playing one of the new hit songs by Hanguang-jun, and a father-son duo walking past.

Luo Qingyang bullies him into exactly one interview before his first album is released. On it, he accidentally confirms that all the songs on the album are about one person, and panics after that, not wishing to reveal anything about Wei Ying or even Lan Wangji’s own name on camera.

Apparently the mystery helps? Lan Wangji understands fame less and less the closer he comes to it. He thought if he just wrote good songs, enough people would listen to him that Wei Ying would hear it. Wei Ying is spotted in Thailand, and Lan Wangji ends up naming his first album Oceans Apart.

It sells, and it sells, and still, Wei Ying and their son are nowhere to be found.

-

Wei Wuxian is lying on a roof the night of his wedding anniversary.

Purple, white, and red fireworks explode in the black sky above him. There’s some celebration going on in the city, and Wei Wuxian takes advantage of it to pretend it’s in celebration of his anniversary.

Not that there’s much to celebrate. He doesn’t think it’s typical to celebrate the anniversary of a marriage which no longer exists, but their marriage didn’t end in the typical way either.

And he still loves Lan Zhan. Loves him so much that the sight of rabbits brings him to tears. So much that he feels like a traitor whenever someone so much as smiles in his direction, so much that he can’t imagine himself flirting with someone. So much that he cries on the roof when the fireworks light up the sky.

“Papa?”

Wei Wuxian looks to the right, and there’s Wei Sizhui, who is sometimes the only thing keeping Wei Wuxian going on his darkest nights. He’s nestled up with Wei Wuxian’s arm around him, small face peering earnestly at him from the dark. “What?”

“Why are you crying?”

Wei Wuxian raises one hand instinctively to rub the tears away. He’d forgotten about that. He’s thrown himself fully into caring for his son, making sure that he has clothes and good food to eat, which is hard when they never stay in a place for long and Wei Wuxian is paranoid of anyone who stares at them too long. Sometimes he wonders if he’s really doing any good, keeping Wei Sizhui away from his other father and uncles and aunts, from a happy childhood with friends and a school. And every time, he blinks back to the moment he woke up in the prison having narrowly avoided being murdered, and knows that Wei Sizhui is still safer with him than he’d be if he was still there, within the Jins reach.

“Nothing,” Wei Wuxian says. “It’s nothing.”

Wei Sizhui frowns. “But Papa is sad,” he declares.

Wei Wuxian presses the back of his hand over his eyes. Fireworks crack so loudly it muffles his shaky inhale. Tears stream down his cheeks and around his ears. Red lights flash across his eyelids.

-

White lights flash through the stage, focusing on the solitary grand piano, and Lan Wangji, in his white suit, seated on the piano bench. A hush falls across the massive crowd. He adjusts his microphone slightly, and places his fingers gently atop the keys. The cameras zoom in on him.

And Lan Wangji sings.

-

“I’m just remembering,” Wei Wuxian whispers. “Someone I used to know.”

“Is it Dad?” Wei Sizhui asks timidly.

Wei Wuxian inhales shakily again, then wraps his arm back around his son. “Yeah,” he admits. “It’s your other father.”

He hasn’t looked back since he ran away. Countless times, he’s thought about Googling the Jiangs in an internet cafe, just to check on how they’re doing. They have social media profiles, so he could. He could. But even the slightest hint of connection could ruin what Wei Wuxian has managed to salvage. The Jiangs would fight for him. Would drag their names in the mud for him, and he can’t let them do that to themselves, so he cuts all ties and doesn’t look back.

Wei Wuxian hasn’t dared to search Lan Wangji since he ran away.

-

“Hello,” Lan Wangji sings, and the crowd cheers.“It’s me. I was wondering if after all these years you’d like to meet, to go over everything. They say that time’s supposed to heal you, but I ain’t done much healing.”

Before he knows it, there’s tears streaming down his face. They drip onto his nice white suit, but the music doesn’t pause.

-

Hello from the other side

“Will we ever see him again?” Wei Sizhui asks plaintively.

I must have called a thousand times

Wei Wuxian tries to shake his head, his shoulders pressed against the dusty brick roof. “I don’t know, baby,” he says.

To tell you I’m sorry for everything that I’ve done

“But why not?” Wei Sizhui pushes. It’s far from the first time he’s asked, but each day it gets harder and harder to answer.

Hello from the outside

“Because he’s very, very far away,” Wei Wuxian replies this time, and tries not to think of Lan Zhan as he last saw him, sleeping peacefully in their bed the night Wei Wuxian broke in and took Wei Sizhui with him. “Oceans away.”

At least I can say that I tried

Eventually, the fireworks stop, and Wei Sizhui falls asleep, head resting in the crook of Wei Wuxian’s arm. Wei Wuxian raises one hand to the midnight sky, pretends he can reach through the vast expanse to wherever his family is. “Happy anniversary, Lan Zhan,” he whispers. “I miss you.”

To tell you I’m sorry for breaking your heart

Eventually, the song ends, and the cheers deafen the stadium. The lights go out long after Lan Wangji has gotten up from his seat and stepped away from the microphone. The tears on his face are invisible until the cameras focus in on him walking.

“Happy anniversary, Wei Ying,” he whispers, before he picks up the microphone to thank the crowd. “I love you.”

[v-hope]

Mint Choco

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Army!Reader

Genre: Fluff, fluff and more fluff

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: Hoseok convinces you to go out in the middle of the night to cheer you up after having dealt with the constant hate coming from his fans, or the one in which you realise you might not dislike mint choco ice cream as much as you thought you did after all.

A/N: This can be read as a stand-alone one shot or as part 15 of my social media au “Hobi’s Girl”. Also, for this au’s purposes, Y/N doesn’t like mint choco ice cream, my apologies to all of you mint choco lovers but a girl’s gotta do what she gotta do 😔✊🏻 Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy 🥰

You got this. You got this. You got this. You got this. You go—

Those three words kept repeating over and over in your head like a mantra as you took a fair amount of time walking down the stairs of your apartment complex; wanting with everything in you to believe you were indeed cool about the whole situation, when truth was, you were most certainly not.

Nervously tugging at the long sleeves of the light grey sweater you had settled for wearing after Yeonsu and you had made an entire mess out of both your wardrobe and hers, later matching it with a pair of dark skinny jeans and sneakers to complete the perfect casual outfit, you could not help but wonder if you had maybe underdressed. Hoseok had not really mentioned what the two of you were doing, if anything, you were pretty sure he had no idea either considering how late at night it was; yet it was still Hoseok. Jung Hoseok, the fashion icon. Not only that but you were also meeting him for the first time...

Fuck, you were most definitely underdressed, weren’t you?

Just when you were about to turn around and run back to your place so you and your best friend could once again go through pretty much all your clothes again, however, your phone buzzed in your back pocket — just like that feeling your heartbeats speed up, even more when you read the text Hobi had just sent you, letting you know he was right outside waiting for you.

Deciding not to answer him considering you were just about to go out, you took a deep breath; trying one last time to calm yourself before meeting him.

It would be alright. He was just Hobi, not J-Hope your bias from BTS whom you had been head over heels for ever since they debuted. No, this was Hobi. Seok-ie. Your self-proclaimed baby, for crying out loud. Not like that helped too much either, for let’s face it, although you had only been talking for a little over a month now, you were absolutely head over heels for him, too.

Nevertheless, with that thought in mind, the one of him not being this intimidating idol you had loved for so long, but the guy you had been talking and flirting with these last couple of weeks, the one who called you cute pet names and always wanted to be there for you, you finally made it out of your complex.

Simple as that, and even though half of his face was being covered by a black mask, you recognized his figure at the other side of the rather dark street, right in front of you. His back was casually leaning against his expensive car as his eyes remained focused on his phone; probably waiting for your answer, you guessed given his slightly furrowed eyebrows.

Not being able to hide the huge smile that had just parted your lips at the sight of him, and silently rejoicing on his all-black outfit being just as casual as yours, you looked to both sides of the street before making your way over to him.

“Should I have worn a mask, too?” you spoke up to catch his attention.

Before you could mentally punch yourself at the way your voice had betrayed you by breaking a little given your nervousness, his chocolate eyes were on you, quickly adopting the shape of two crescent moons the second he realised it was actually you.

Pulling down his mask just low enough for his mouth to show, you felt your knees go weak at the up-close view you got of his bright smile.

“Hey” he managed to say, followed by a blissful giggle as he gave you a brief side hug that left you longing for more. “No, no. Not at all” he answered your previous question, “I just wasn’t very familiar with this side of the city and didn’t know if it was too crowded, so…”

“Well, now you see it’s not” you smiled, motioning around to point out how visibly deserted the place was. “Great for sneaky moments like this. Awful for late nights out when you lose your wallet and have to walk back home all alone, trust me”.

Your words earned a small laugh for him. “Well, if there’s ever a next time just give me a call and I’ll go pick you up” he offered.

“Oh, yeah” you snorted, “because I would really disturb the small amount of sleep you get at night”.

He shrugged, unconsciously moving closer to you. “I wouldn’t mind. I can make time for you if you need me, you know?”

Your gaze abandoned his for a second, staring down to your feet and biting your lower lip as you tried your best not to let his words affect you as much as they were already doing right then, only to later fix your eyes on his beaming ones once again.

“What is it?” he wondered after a few seconds of silence, in which you had done nothing but look at him in pure adoration.

“Nothing, I just…” his head nodded reassuringly for you to go on, “I just can’t believe it’s really you”.

Hoseok laughed under his breath, tilting his head slightly back as he stared at you with squinted eyes and pouty lips. “So what, all those times we video called weren’t proof enough of it being actually me?”

“You know what I mean” you lightly laughed along with him.

“Yeah” his stare softened, “I can’t believe it’s really you either” he confessed.

Because never in your wildest dreams would either of you have thought you would respectively end up meeting your ultimate bias and the girl you had seen one miserable time at one of your concerts. But the world works in mysterious ways, and the two of you could not be happier about the way things had worked out for you.

“So, um…” he cleared his throat, finally breaking the eye contact as his eyes shifted to the passenger’s door before holding it open for you and motioning towards it. “Shall we go?”

“What a gentleman” you couldn’t help but tease with a small smile.

Rolling his eyes with clear amusement in them at your statement —which earned a giggle from you that made his heart jump—, he closed the door after you had gotten inside and rushed to the other side of his car to take his place on the driver’s seat.

“So what’s the plan?” you asked once he turned the engine on.

“I don’t have one” he sheepishly admitted — his eyes focused ahead of him as he started driving away from your place. “I was thinking maybe we could go for a walk somewhere nice, maybe to a park or—”

“Isn’t that...” you cut him off mid-sentence, “too risky?”

His shoulders moved up and then down as he sighed heavily. “Everything is kinda risky when you’re an idol, to be honest…”

“I’m sorry” you couldn’t help but apologize, even more at the way his mood had seemed to slightly drop at the thought of that. “It must be hard…”

“It’s okay” he reassured you, throwing you a small glance that was followed by a sincere smile. “I love my job, I really do. It’s just…” he fell silent for a second, turning left as he continued driving without a clear destination, “I just wish things would be easier when it comes to going out and dating… and us, you know?”

You smiled sweetly, not really thinking twice when you reached for his hand and held it in yours, yet knowing he appreciated that small act of yours when he gently squeezed it as a smile curved up his lips.

“Maybe we could just drive around like this for a while?” you proposed. “Or you could just park somewhere so you don’t have to worry about driving”.

“And you would be okay with that?” he cocked one of his eyebrows.

“Of course” your eyebrows knitted together in confusion at how utterly surprised he had sounded.

“Don’t you at least want to grab a bite or something?”

“Mm…”

The way your lips puckered up as you were deep in thought caught Hoseok’s attention, and he would’ve been lying to himself if he said he didn’t feel the sudden urge to lean in and steal a kiss from you right then.

“Something sweet would be nice…” your eyes trailed off to the window, as if the Seoul streets you were driving by would give you the answer. “Oh, ice cream!” you exclaimed excitedly, causing him to stare fondly at you and how adorable he thought you were, “and then we can just stay in the car listening to music and talking or whatever”.

“That’s really all you want?” he couldn’t help but wonder again.

“Why do you say it like that?” you pouted. “I just wanna spend time with you, I don’t mind what we do”.

“Ah, stop doing this to me” he said overdramatically, letting his head fall on his seat as one of his hands clutched at his chest and a smile curved up your lips. “One condition, though” his eyes went to you.

“Tell me”.

“This doesn’t count as our first date, because it is so not what I had in mind for it”.

Feeling the heat reach your face in a matter of seconds, you turned to look out of the window for a moment; collecting yourself before your eyes were back on him. “Okay, this doesn’t count as our first date then”.

That was how, half an hour later, Hoseok had parked his car in front of a lake that provided the two of you with the perfect view as you silently enjoyed your ice creams while Hobi’s playlist played quietly in the background — the moonlight illuminating the water in such soothing way that made the whole atmosphere feel even nicer.

As much as the sight ahead of you was beautiful, your eyes found themselves travelling over to the man next to you, quietly admiring his delicate factions and slightly long dark brown hair before they focused on the mint chocolate flavoured ice cream he was currently savouring.

“You want some?” he offered, having caught the way you were intently staring at it.

“Oh. No, thanks” you declined politely, feeling once again the heat reach your cheeks.

“You don’t like it?”

“Not really” you admitted, bringing your green tea ice cream up to your lips.

Hoseok’s mouth fell open in astonishment, staring at you without moving a muscle for a couple of seconds. “Okay, it was nice to meet you” he said once he ‘came back’ to his senses. “I can’t date a mint choco anti, I’m sorry” he joked.

Trying to hide your amusement —and also trying your best not to freak out over the way he had deliberatedly used the word ‘date’ right then—, you nodded understandingly.

“Yeah, it was nice to meet you, too” you dramatically reached for the door handle, “but I don’t want to date a mint choco lover either, so—”

Before you could even open the door to make your dramatic exit, you had him reaching over to your side and grabbing your hand to prevent you from doing so; pulling you closer to him as you both laughed wholeheartedly, almost enough not to notice how close you had ended up being to each other.

With your face being almost pressed against his chest while his face remained near your shoulder, you found yourselves staring into each other’s eyes, only inches away, once you straightened yourselves up.

As if snapping back into reality, he cleared his throat after having pulled slightly back and away from you — not being uncomfortable at all with how close you had been until then, yet not wanting to make you uncomfortable on the other hand.

“Have you even tried it?” he tried to initiate conversation again. “Mint choco, I mean”.

You nodded. “Once”.

And that had been enough for you to know it was not your cup of tea. However, Hoseok was not having that.

“Okay but you seriously need to try this one, love. It’s really good”.

Staring reluctantly at the ice cream cone he was holding up to make his point, you ended up agreeing with a small ‘okay’, mostly because the look he was giving you right there made it impossible for you not to give in to his wishes.

The way your nose scrunched after he had brought it up to your mouth for you to have a taste, however, was enough to let him know your perception had not changed much from the other one time you had tried his favourite flavour.

“You hate it that much?” the disbelief was clear in his voice.

“I don’t hate it” you corrected him. “It’s not bad, I just... wouldn’t choose it”.

“So green tea it is for you, huh?”

“Yup” you emphasized the ‘p’ for cute purposes, having succeeded given the way he was lovingly looking at you. “Wanna try?” you offered, bringing your cone up to his lips.

“Sure” he accepted immediately, having a small taste of it before his lips formed a perfect ‘o’ at the delightful taste. “That’s really good”.

“I know, right?” you smiled, bringing it back to your mouth so you could have another taste as well. “Much better than mint choco” you pushed it.

“Okay now that’s just crossing the line” he called you out, determinedly having some of his delicious ice cream as he dramatically glared at you.

Not being able to hold back your laugh, you ended up closing your eyes and throwing your head slightly back as you let it escape your mouth; only to find Hobi’s adoring eyes fixed on you once you opened them again.

“What?” you questioned shyly, feeling so little yet so secure somehow under his piercing stare.

With him moving closer to you, you felt a shiver running down your body when a smile curved up his lips; and you swore you could’ve melted the moment his free hand went up to cup one of your cheeks.

“I like seeing you smile” he confessed quietly. “You’re feeling better?”

“Yeah…” you said sincerely. “Thank you for not letting me sulk in my room for the rest of the night…”

“That’s what I’m here for, angel” he smiled sweetly, tenderly drawing circles on your skin with his thumb. “Again, I’m really sorry this is happening to you…”

You sighed, placing your hand over his and giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s not your fault, Seok-ie” you reassured him what you had already said over text.

“But they’re my fans…”

You shook your head to keep him from speaking any further. “Stop blaming yourself for it, baby”.

Somehow, hearing you call him that pet name for the first time in person, was enough for his heart to feel at ease and for him to drop the topic.

“You do know all those things they’re saying are not true at all, don’t you?” his hand travelled down to your chin, pulling your face slightly up so he could lock his dark eyes with yours.

“I mean…” you shrugged, trying to take importance away from it, “they are kinda right about a few things…”

“No, they’re not” he was fast to determinedly disagree. “You’re not delusional. You’re not desperate. You’re not annoying. And those who were saying you’re not attractive?” he scoffed, not being able to disagree any more than he already did with them. “Fuck, Y/N. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, anyone would have to be blind not to see it”.

“I’m really not—”

“Y/N” he cut your off before you could even begin to deny his words, “you’re so fucking breathtaking you had me looking for you for weeks after the concert, just because I couldn’t bear the idea of that being the first and last time I’d see you”.

Feeling like your cheeks would burn up anytime by then at his words, you found yourself taking the closeness of your faces to your advantage — letting your forehead rest faintly against his, in a way of letting him know how much his words had meant to you.

“I really meant it when I said you’re the best, you know?” you mumbled, loving the way his eyes had lit up at that. “Even if you’re a mint choco stan”.

Hobi laughed lightly, gazing down to your lips as his thumb traced over them. “And I really meant it when I said I’m happy I found you” he referenced the first conversation you ever had. “Even if you’re a mint choco hater” he joined in your teasing.

Not saying another word, he leaned in just enough for his lips to press lightly on yours, getting just a small taste of them before pulling slightly away and looking into your eyes for some kind of sign of you being uncomfortable by his actions. When he found nothing but elation being displayed on them, he couldn’t help but smile softly; not wasting another second to close the space between your mouths once again, only this time with no intentions of breaking the contact between them anytime soon.

His hand still on your cheek managed to keep you in place for him to intensify the kiss, just as your free hand travelled to the back of his head so you could entangle your fingers on his brown locks.

It just felt… right. Everything about it. From the two of you being together, to just sitting in the car eating ice cream in the middle of the night, to the way your lips fit so perfectly with each other’s.

Everything seemed to have fallen right into place.

And so, when you pulled away a good couple of seconds later, letting your breathings mix as you tried to catch your breath, the two of you were wearing the brightest of smiles on your faces.

“What?” he wondered after hearing you hum something under your breath, which had only caused his smile to grow wider as he faintly bumped his nose on yours.

Biting down on your lower lip, your eyes gazed up to meet his. “I think I could start liking mint choco from now on…” you giggled shyly, still savouring the fresh taste of his mouth on yours.

A low chuckle abandoned his mouth, pushing your chin slightly up so he could softly brush his lips on yours. “Let me help you with that”.

Just like that, his addictive lips were back on yours and the melting ice creams in your hands were long forgotten. You would deal with that later.

tag list: @lets-keepit100 @aquietkerfuffle @hobicomeholla29 @hhhhwww7 @brinnalaine @thefickive @zxlla @dreamcatcherjiah @booklover240 @luneseok @randomkoalablog @seokssbagel @thestral-balerion @unadulteratedlyunique @pikapikaachuu @salty-for-suga @biaisezabini @extaevaganza @jennygracekent @nerdycookiemonster-1222 @btsxdoll @cvbachacbitch @dearest-sunshine @tirednation @shakes0peare @moralita76 @re-sugance @rosiegukk @yeontanie21 @notinmycomfortzone @slxtfortae @cherryjiminiee @creepysweet @hobi-love @betysotelo18 @zaryas @kpopgirlbtssvt @bubblegumcat229 @suga-bangtan @uxwi @lovelymultiwrites @rjsmochii @margaritafariasw @lilliaflurr @lidda @seoulgotmysoul @sunskook @jayhope88 @magicshop-myg @longlivebnc

[bellasweetwriting]

Fist Date

rory gilmore x m.reader

(not my gif)

masterlist

plot: you always flirt with the Chilton perfect student Rory Gilmore, and one time, she actually gives in

requested by: @grouchycritic7794​

warnings: my writing, too much popular cultural references, FLUFF

a/n: this was actually so fun to write, I hope you like it

word count: 1,8k

You watched her as she got out of school. Chilton was on your way to work, and you didn't mind walking a little bit slower at three o'clock and crash with some private school students on their way home.

She was always there at three o'clock.

"Hey, Gilmore!" You yelled, making her raise his eyes from her book and look at you. You noticed how identifying you wasn't as pleasant as you hoped it was. "What are you reading on this fine evening?" 

"How to punch an annoying guy in ten steps, and I'm a fast learner."

You sat down next to her, making Gilmore move a few inches away from you, not caring if you noticed.

"I'm kinda busy here, Y/N, why don't you go and talk to your fan club?" Asked Rory in a high pitched voice, pointing the groupie of girls watching you. You waved at them before focusing all your eyes on Rory Gilmore.

You first met her a few months ago when your boss made you make delivery in Stars Hollow, to a diner, and she was there. Rory was eating her book with her eyes as she drank her black coffee which had so much more coffee than water. And the fact that she didn't care for you at all made you like her so much.

One day on your way to work, you saw her. She was in front of Chilton, sitting on the bus stop with a book on her hand. And now, seeing Rory every day was part of your routine.

"So, do you like PJ Harvey?"

"Who doesn't? She's great." You smiled at her answer. "why do you care what I like, Y/N?"

"My sister gave her tickets, and you wouldn't guess who came to my mind at that moment?" 

"Phoebe Cates?" She assumed, referring to the attractive 80s actress.

"You," you corrected her, making Rory roll her eyes. "It's just a concert. Besides, it would be cool if we get to know each other in any other place that isn't this fancy and prestigious school, don't you think?"

"Sorry, I forgot I'm too fancy and elegant for you. Why would you go out with me? I'm on the top floor of the ship, Jack." A Titanic reference. She always spoke in pop culture references. 

"I mean that this is your territory and for you to get to know me, you need to spend time in my comfort zone."

"You make it sound like your territory has cows and chickens and you wear a cowboy hat on weekdays."

You laughed.

"The cowboy hat is only for weekends, m'lady." You made her chuckle, just a bit. "Please, do I look like a farmer boy to you, Gilmore?"

You didn't. Your leather jacket and your neck tattoos weren't usual for a country boy. Nothing of you made you look like a farmer boy.

You are a city boy, a Hartford man with no money to spent blindness. You drove your old man's motorcycle without his permission, and it was a very cliche of you to be flirting with a correct and delicate girl like you though Rory Gilmore was.

But she wasn't like all the rich girls that attended Chilton. She was not a millionaire, not a delicate girl, didn't wear make up other than a sparkly pink lipgloss and some transparent mascara. That was it. Oh, but you see a girl like that, and your instinct is to protect her. Her innocent face, and those big dove eyes that made her look so beautiful for you, didn't they?

Rory Gilmore caught your attention the minute you looked at her.

Her beauty was different. Wasn't like a model of Vogue, or some concept of pretty that the media has published. Something in her expressions and details made her look like she was a princess, those delicate factions and the innocence that brightened her eyes. 

"Fine, Noah Calhoun, let's go and see PJ Harvey."

"Great," you said softly, kissing her cheek quickly. "I'll pick you up on Friday night. Where do you live? What's your number?"

"Chill out, J Edgar Hoover. How do I know you aren't going to Lee Harvey Oswald me when I'm not looking?"

"Have you ever talked normally and not in pop culture references?"

"Why would I do that?" She asked, writing her address on a post-it. "Here. It's in Stars Hollow. Please, don't kill me one night."

"You aren't my type of victim. I'll pick you up at seven." 

And with that, you left Rory sitting on the bus stop. 

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

"What would you wear to a PJ Harvey concert in Hartford?" Asked Rory to Lorelai as she picked up her clothes and looked at them.

"A whistle, a pepper spray and a phone dialling to 911," answered her mom as she sat on the chair in Rory's room. "Do I know this guy?"

"I don't think you do, and if you did, I would have a lot of questions."

A bright moving line illuminated the curtains of the room from the outside. Lorelai looked over the window to see you getting out of your motorcycle. 

"No!" She yelled. "A motorcycle?"

"He's here!?" Exclaimed Rory, looking over the window to you standing next to your bike. "I am not ready."

Rory was panicking. She didn't have a minimal idea of what to wear and you were already outside, waiting for her.

"Ok, uhm, wear that blue shirt because you look good in it, some black jeans and your tennis. I'll go distract James Dean over there.

"Go! Go!"

Lorelai ran towards the door, opening and giving you a sign to come in.

Boy, you didn't want to, but since she was the one letting Rory go out with you, you didn't have a chance.

"Well, hello, there. I'm Lorelai, I'm Rory's mom, come on in."

"I'm Y/N," you introduced yourself with a particular tone like you didn't care much about what she thought. "Is Rory ready?"

"She's finishing up. You know, putting on lipgloss and grabbing a Poptart, hopefully not her last supper," Lorelai whispered the last part, making you raise your eyebrows. "So, Y/N, where do you go to school?"

"In a public school at Hartford. I work too."

"What do you do? Tattoo shop?"

"Actually, food deliveries. I'm the provider of your diner, in fact."

Lorelai raised her eyebrows.

"So you know Luke?"

"I know how he looks and talks."

"I know him too! He's one of my best friends."

"He kinda hates me."

"Right."

Both of you wished that Rory would appear in any second now.

"I'm ready!" Exclaimed Rory innocently, appearing at the door with a smile. "What were you guy talking about?"

"... baseball caps," said Lorelai and you nodded. "You look great, honey, have fun. But not so much fun." 

You opened the door for Rory, who smiled at you before stepping outside. You turned around to look at Lorelai.

"Have a nice night, Miss Gilmore."

"Take care. Drive safe!" You could hear her yell even though you closed the door. "Don't accept candy from strangers!"

You helped Rory get on the bike carefully, and she smiled at you while you put her helmet on.

"I feel like a little kid with this gigantic helmet." You laughed.

"You have a small head, Gilmore." She rolled her eyes.

"You are a total Casanova, aren't you?"

You grabbed her hands and placed them on your waist before turning on the bike. 

"Just hold on, Bambi."

And with that, you left the driveway of the Gilmore house, driving away.

Lorelai was quick enough to run towards the phone and jump to grab it, falling to the floor as she dialled the diner's number.

"Luke's diner, this is Luke."

"My daughter just left to go to a concert in the city on a motorcycle with your provider!"

"What? Are you doing a Margot Kidder impression again?" He asked from the other side of the line, making Lorelai roll her eyes. "Who left on a motorcycle?"

"Rory! Rory left on a motorcycle with a tattooed rebel guy! They were going to a PJ Harvey concert in Hartford! Am I the only one who sees the problem here?"

"Wait, my provider... you mean Y/N Y/L/N?" 

"So you know his name, perfect. That way we know what to tell the cops when Sylvester Stallone kidnaps my daughter!"

"Hey, chill out, he is a good kid."

"He has a black dragon tattoed on his neck. Do you know any good kid with a mythological creature that shoots fire from its mouth tattoed on their skin?"

She heard Luke sigh.

"Rory is a great kid. If she thinks he is a good guy, then he is. She wouldn't go out with a guy who she thinks is bad for her."

"Didn't she like Jess at some point?"

A silence reached the conversation until Luke spoke again.

"I'm on my way. Can't believe you let her go out with that thug, he has broken at least two eggs in his deliveries, he doesn't know how to take care of a girl. That girl has no judgement, that's why you are there!"

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

"I loved it when she sang The Mess We Are In, I really loved it," she said as you parked in front of her house. 

You had a lot of fun at the concert, and you still couldn't believe she even accepted to go. You've known her for a while now, and she's always been ignorant to your flirting or propositions. Something must have changed beneath these days that made her change her mind.

"I had so much fun, Y/N," she told you as she started to take off your jacket, but you let her keep it.

"Looks better on you." She rolled her eyes.

"Could you be any more cliche?"

"I haven't quoted Jane Austen yet."

"Yet?"

You nodded before leaning in, kissing her lips softly as you felt her tremble to your touch.

You ran your hand through her hair, making slow movements with your head before breaking apart, giving her a last short kiss before stepping back.

"See you on Monday, Rory Gilmore." You put on your helmet, and she smiled.

"Bye, Y/N.”

You gave her a tiny smirk before turning on the engine and driving away. She looked at you go, remembering how much fun she had with you that night.

Quickly, she ran towards her house, opening the door and finding her mom and Luke sitting on the couch. Both stood up, looking at the smiley girl.

"How did it go?" Asked Lorelai, and Rory blushed.

"Perfect," she said softly, hugging her mom. "Thanks for letting me go, it was the best night ever." 

After she said hi to Luke, she ran towards her bedroom and jump into the bed, staring at the dark night and stars with a big smile.

Lorelai looked at her friend with an emotionless expression on her face.

"I don't like that guy," she said, "at all."

[tigerandbunnyftw]

In lead up to Season 2, Namco Bandai Pictures have been releasing comments from the staff involved with this new season, known as the “Staff & Cast - Comment Relay”. 

These comments are released on the first day of every month over on the T&B twitter, and full posts are over on the T&B website (Japanese only).

So far 7 comments have been released from both the staff and cast, starting with series’ character/hero designer, Masakazu Katsura! 

Please note that I am paraphrasing the first two comments, so any lovelies willing to help translate the first two comments (or just help in general), let me know!

(Series’ Character design / hero design) - Link Katsura has been focusing hard on the character design, specifically for the new Hero suits for Wild Tiger and Barnaby, referred to as “Style 3“. The theme is “standard and fresh” looking. So please look forward to it!

(Series composition / screenplay / story director) - Link 

Nishida confirmed that there was history of starting and stopping the project over the last 9 years. So he was worried whether the project would actually take shape one day, but was uplifted when the higher staff finally gave the green light. 

Nishida feels that T&B is a work created by the power of all the cast staff and the support of the fans. He wrote something that they found interesting and hopes that fans will be pleased with it.

He ends the comment by saying, the sequel will be announced more than 10 years after the original work. Tiger, Barnaby, Nathan, Karina, Antonio, Keith, Paolin, Ivan and friends. He hopes that we will enjoy and accept all of their changed and unchanged parts, and think that the enemy characters in this season will be slightly different, than those who appeared in the original series and movies.

The following 3 comments were translated by anon over on 4chan (thank you!)

(Screenplay writer -  (TB episodes 15 & 23, “T&B The Comic” writer with illustrator Ueda Hiroshi manga, Hero's Day videogame, Double Decker screenplay writer) - Link

>Q: How did you feel about receiving an offer to participate in the Tiger & Bunny 2 production? >EY: It's a great honor to once again become part of the writing team. The series is very special to me - you could say it made me who I am today, since I've been with for so long. From the original TV show, the manga series I wrote with Mr. Ueda, the game, or the recitations, the series has taught me a lot. >When I first joined the writing team for the first season, Barnaby and I were both rookies, but now I'm a something of a mainstay, not unlike Kotetsu. I dearly wish I can now return the favor to the series using the experience I have gained over these years.

>Q: Is there anything you particularly focus on when writing the scenario? >EY: I want Taibani to be a series that makes people happy and gives hope to those watching it. That said, I emphasize the growth and change the heroes have gone through over the course of the first season and the movies. After all, more than a decade will have passed since the first season aired. As time passes and worldviews shift, I intend to depict both things that never change and things that have to change. >Q: Please tell use your message for the fans waiting for S2. >EY: It is your long-lasting love and support that has allowed us to weave this story about the heroes once again. For this, you have my heartfelt thanks. I think the fans understand what I mean when I say the series has been a part of our life. I can't wait to share and experience the new Taibani story with you all. >Let us stay safe, so we can enjoy the new season in sound health and bright spirits.

(Screenplay writer - T&B episodes 6,8 & 18, V-Residence T&B web VN, usually a live action actor)

>Q: How did you feel about receiving an offer to participate in the Tiger & Bunny 2 production? >NK: "Wait, we're doing this? Really? Oh wow...." >I also thought, "Hmm, it's been almost 10 years, so things can't change too much, but they also can't be too static". >And then I was like "Alright! I'm just gonna write what I think is interesting and I'm gonna write the hell out of it!" >Q: Is there anything you particularly focus on when writing the scenario? >NK: I'm really careful to make sure I can hear the character's voice in my head when I writing. The series' characters have very strong and distinctive voices. >Q: Please tell use your message for the fans waiting for S2. >NK: It's a sequel that comes after more than a decade. I think the very fact that T&B has so many fans who have loved and waited for it so long is a miracle and I am very grateful to you all.

>With the corona pandemic going on, I feel like we can't spend as much time just enjoying things with others. So I really wish that S2 will be something for us to band together and enjoy as one. It's great that we can once again watch the same work and share the joy and hype on social media, just like we did before.

(Screenplay writer - live action screenwriter e.g. Kamen Rider/ Kakegurui live action movie)

>Q: How did you feel about receiving an offer to participate in the Tiger & Bunny 2 production? >MT: My hands were literally shaking, I'm serious. When the first season aired I was still in high-school, getting together with my friends after lessons and going "Wow, this week's T&B episode was awesome!". >Joy, sense of responsibility, excitement, pressure... It all came crashing on me together, so I just kind of started twitching. >Q: Is there anything you particularly focus on when writing the scenario? >MT: I mustn't betray the fans' expectations. At the same time, however, I must write a show that even people unfamiliar with the franchise can enjoy. It can't be just a doujin. It's not a vehicle for my ego. More than anything, the show must be fun and interesting. Writing the show felt like threading a microfiber cloth with a micro-sized needle. >Q: Please tell use your message for the fans waiting for S2. >MT: There are very few series that have been loved as long and as deeply by so many people. And I believe we have created a work that can take and embrace all that huge amount of love head on. >Please wait just a little while longer.

>Q: Please tell us your feelings after receiving the production announcement of "TIGER & BUNNY 2". >HH: Every corner of your muscles is always OK! >Q: Please give a message to the fans who are waiting for your work. EDIT - Thanks coolboxofcandy for the suggestion. 

>HH: Get ready to roar at your fullest!"

>Q: Please tell us your feelings after receiving the production announcement of "TIGER & BUNNY 2".

>MK: As one of the performers, I'm really happy to decide on the sequel, but as one of the fans, I can't help but wonder if various mysteries that haven't been solved will be solved.

Just like before, I wondered if I could enjoy the moment of reading the script with excitement, and I'm looking forward to it! I want to start recording soon!

>Q: Please give a message to the fans who are waiting for your work. >MK: Actually... I read the script of the first episode first!

“Well! That 's right!" 

"Wow ! That person is that!"

"I see! That's right!" 

It was the first episode full of surprises. I'm already worried about future developments! Fans, this is an incident! Please look forward to it!

And those were comments that have been released so far. Look forward to more comments in the future!

[ryosei-hime]

Date Night

Continuation of Personal Space. Husk spends the day getting ready for his date with Angel and the rest of the night being a mess. Can also be found over on AO3.

Husk groaned as he rolled off the sofa in the foyer, bottles clattering as he disturbed them. He dragged a paw down his face before a huge yawn escaped. A sound of agony followed as he stretched his back, every vertebrae popping and shifting. That damn thing was not meant for sleeping on. A feather floated down to the floor and he followed it’s trajectory back to the sofa to find more littering the cushions. Oh, great, molting. That’s what he needed.

He checked his phone for the time and saw a message from Angel. It was a picture of him splayed out on the sofa with his mouth open, a bottle clutched in one hand, and a leg over the back. He’d captioned it “Sleeping Beauty” followed by one of those winking kissy faces. 

Husk rolled his eyes as he picked himself up off the ground. If he found that damn thing on his social media, he’d kill him. Nobody had any damn privacy anymore. He texted back a threat and searched around his empties for any remnants - hair of the dog and all - until a static-filled voice interrupted him.

“Good afternoon, Husker.”

“Yeah, what’d you want?” 

“Simply passing through, my friend.”

Husk’s lip curled. Every time Alastor called him friend it caused a visceral reaction. Fuckin asshole. He’d rather the fucker just treat their relationship as it was instead of trying to paint a polite picture. You could put lipstick on a pig but it was still a fuckin pig. 

“But good luck on your little date tonight.”

Alastor’s smile turned sharper and his eyes more sinister. God dammit, Angel. Couldn’t he keep his fuckin mouth shut? Husk just gave Alastor the finger as he moved on with his day. He checked to make sure Angel hadn’t blabbed about this anywhere else. But it must have just been good old fashioned word of mouth.

Actually, he’d barely posted at all today which was weird for Angel. Probably knew he couldn’t keep his mouth shut if he did. Husk sighed and dragged himself to his room. He had a few hours to get himself together enough for this. Plenty of time to go over everything that would go wrong in minute detail.

It was Nifty who helped him get ready. Of course, she knew, too. Whole damn hotel knew. She insisted on helping him get dressed up in an old suit and tie. He didn’t see the need to bother. Wasn’t like he wore clothes regularly and they wouldn’t be on him long.

But it made Nifty happy to get him ready, giving him advice so fast he couldn’t take half of it in even if he’d wanted to. He smiled at her as she fixed his tie and stood back with her hands on her hips.

“You look great! Angel’s gonna love it. I’m so excited for you!” 

“At least someone is,” Husk muttered, resisting the urge to loosen the tie a bit. 

“Aren’t you excited?” 

“Ah, I’m no good at this stuff. You know that.” 

“Don’t worry! Just let Angel help you. He’s great at it.” She started dusting Husk’s own fur off his suit as it shed, her efforts only making it worse. “And he really likes you!”

“Yeah, I know,” Husk replied. “Thanks Nifty.”

Nifty gave him a big hug and he returned it gently. Her slight frame made him extra careful with her. 

“I have to get back to cleaning, but I hope you enjoy your date!” 

“Yeah. I’ll try.” 

He raised a hand in a slight wave as she hurried off. He decided to spend the rest of the day waiting for Angel at the bar. That turned out to be a mistake. Everyone had something to say. They wished him luck. They cooed and sighed like it was some big fuckin show. Their words were supportive but somehow they only made Husk more nervous, maybe even a little bitter. This shit seemed so easy for everyone else. 

It had been easy for him once, too.

Eventually the foyer emptied out as it got late. Husk knew Angel would be returning for him any minute. He finally had to loosen the tie around his neck and decided to fix himself a drink to calm his nerves, but just as he reached under the bar, the doors opened. 

His wings lifted slightly as Angel made his entrance. Husk wasn’t the only one who’d gotten dressed up. Angel’d gotten his hair done or some kind of extensions or something. Fuck if Husk knew. He wore a strapless pink number, the skirt covered with some kinda fake flower and vine decorations. Looked like it was supposed to be a train, but he was too tall for it to do much but brush the floor as he approached. Husk actually thought he looked beautiful all dolled up like that. Maybe he should tell him. Instead, what came out of his mouth was: 

“What’re we going to the fuckin prom?” 

“I dunno. Will you be doin’ my taxes when we’re done?” Angel shot back with a grin. 

He reached across the bar and fixed his tie. Dammit, he’d choke to death before he got through this night. Angel didn’t release his tie right away. He used it to pull him closer for a quick kiss. 

“Ready?”

No.

“Yeah, sure.” 

Husk came out from behind the bar and let Angel take his arm. He had no idea where they were going, but he just let Angel take the lead. Like Nifty had said, he was good at this. When they arrived at their destination, Husk was a little grateful she’d insisted on dressing him up. Angel had chosen some high end, classy joint. 

They got a lot of stares on the way to their table. He knew Angel was the center of attention wherever he went, but he didn’t like being caught in the crossfire of all those lustful gazes. A growl sounded low in his chest before he could stop it, his teeth bared. The stares become a little less overt.

Angel put a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t scare my fans, Husk. I’m used to it.”

“Well, I’m not. People need to mind their own fuckin business.”

Without thinking about it, Husk pulled a chair out for Angel. At least he remembered something from the old days.

“Whatta gentleman,” Angel joked, batting his lashes at him as he sat. 

Husk gave his chair a rough shove up to the table, taking his own with a grumble. When he looked up, Angel had his chin on his hands, fingers laced to make a cradle, staring at him with such a soft look it took Husk’s breath away. He made himself busy with the menu. As the waiter approached, Angel sat up suddenly.

“Oh, I forgot. This place is Italian. Like Italian Italian. But I can order for ya, if ya want.” 

Angel looked quite proud of himself and Husk hated to burst his bubble. 

“I got it.”

He gave the waiter his order in perfect Italian and looked back to Angel as the waiter turned to him. Angel stared at him in shock for a moment before stumbling through his own order. He waited until the waiter had disappeared before going off.

“You know Italian? Holy shit, Husk! I been dirty talkin ya all this time at the bar and you knew?!”

Husk hid his smirk behind his menu, trying not to laugh. Angel pushed it away and stared him down, motioning with two fingers between them.

“You look at me, look at me!” 

Husk looked up, still grinning. Angel’s face had gone stern, and he held his gaze for a moment before simply uttering,

“You bastard.” 

Husk let himself laugh a little and teased him. 

“You get real creative when you’re drunk, you know that?”  

Angel just smirked and crossed his second set of arms while another hand brought a glass of wine up to his cheek.

“Well, I guess you know what you got to look forward to then, donchya?”

The conversation during dinner remained light-hearted and Angel kept reaching out for Husk’s paw, making eyes at him. He avoided making direct eye contact, insides churning every time Angel tried. Once their plates were taken away, Angel stood and held a hand out to him.

“Can I get a dance before we go?” 

Husk felt a little more confident as he put a paw in his hand. Dancing was something he knew he could do at least. He smiled back at him.

“Sure.” 

He let Angel draw him out onto the dance floor and pull him into a waltzing position. His extra hands found a place to rest on Husk’s hips as they began to move. Angel took the lead, but Husk had expected as much with the height difference. He wouldn’t let Angel know, but he was surprised he knew how to waltz. It seemed a bit old-fashioned for him. Or at least for how he tended to present himself. It was easy to forget he was from an older era than he was.

“Thank you.”

Husk looked up and felt all the air rush out of his lungs again. Angel gazed down at him with such a genuine look of gratitude. If he didn’t stop stealing his breath, he’d never make it through this night.

“A bet’s a bet,” he repeated.

“You didn’t have to go on a date with me, but ya did. I really appreciate that. It’s nice.” 

Husk closed their stance and pressed his forehead against Angel’s shoulder in response. Angel’s secondary arms held him close, his other hands sliding softly over his shoulders and down his arms. Husk turned his face in towards Angel’s neck instinctually. Everything felt so warm and comforting in this moment. Husk had to say something to break the spell before he started purring and embarrassed himself.

“You’re payin’ right? Cause I can’t afford this shit on my salary.”

“Don’t worry. I gotchya, babe,” Angel replied. “The least I can do is buy ya dinner first.”

Husk pulled back and a hand found his cheek as Angel leaned down to kiss him softly. Then again, a bit harder, staring at him through half-lidded eyes. Husk had to close his, but his paws slid up Angel’s back to grip his shoulders as he reciprocated. Angel broke the kiss and lowered his lips to Husk’s ear, brushing over the hairs at the tip for a moment, sending a thrill through his whole body. 

“Let’s get outta here.”

Husk just nodded his agreement as Angel moved towards the table to pay, his hand sliding off Husk’s shoulder as he went. Husk loosened his tie as he focused on breathing. Fuck. This was happening. Shit. Fuck. As he panicked, a feather slowly floated to the floor then another. Oh, fan-fucking-tastic! This shit!

He stepped on the feathers to hide them as Angel returned, trying to keep a neutral expression. He probably wouldn’t have noticed the feathers anyways. He had his eyes locked onto Husk’s as he reached for his arm again. A devious light there had chased away the tenderness that had been prevalent the rest of the night, letting Husk know Angel’d fully shifted gears. 

Thankfully when they returned to the hotel it wasn’t to some kind of fuckin fanfare. He’d half expected some kind of congratulatory party, the way people acted around here. But the foyer was as empty as it usually was this time of night. Just the two of them as it so often was. Angel stopped by the bar and released his arm. 

“Okay, gimme ten to slip into somethin more comfortable,” Angel said with a joking tone. “Then meet me in my room.” 

He made a show of walking away, swinging his hips and looking back at Husk over his shoulder before disappearing down the corridor. Husk just stood there calmly until he was out of sight. Once alone, he threw himself abruptly over the bar, gasping in air like a drowning man. He sent bottles clattering to the floor as he fished around for a drink. He leaned back against the bar and sank to the ground as he chugged whatever booze he’d managed to grab. The chugging became less frantic after a moment and he started to breathe again. Thank fucking god for alcohol. 

“You did this to yourself, asshole,” he muttered under his breath. 

He watched the clock as it ticked away the seconds he had to get himself together. He finally did away with his tie entirely and ran a paw over his head. Okay, this wasn’t such a big deal. God, it wasn’t like he didn’t find Angel attractive. And this would make him happy. 

All of Husk’s limbs went limp and his head banged back against the bar. Dammit, he wanted him to be happy. How had he let this happen? He sighed and let the empty bottle roll out of his grasp before picking himself up off the floor. 

He trudged down the hall to Angel’s room, leaving a sparse trail of feathers in his wake, and gave a light rap on the door before pushing it open. The lights were low and tinged pink from the scarves draped over the shades. Angel had tossed rose petals around the room wildly. He followed their general trail over to the bed where Angel was, of course, poised seductively. 

He’d changed out of the prom dress and into lacy black lingerie, makeup entirely redone to match. How the fuck did he do that so fast? Angel shifted forward and pushed himself off the bed, sauntering over to him the way he approached a pole at a show. He brushed the back of a hand against his cheek as he circled around behind him. All three sets of arms snaked around him, hands working at buttons and sliding under his shirt.

Husk froze as his clothes just fell around him, only brought back to motion by the shiver that went down his spine when Angel pressed soft kisses against the back of his neck. Damn, he was good. His paws rose to find the closest pair of Angel’s hands and slid over them. Angel nuzzled his face into the crook of his neck before finding his ear. 

“I’ve been waiting for this.” 

Husk turned in his arms and tried to think of something to say. All he could think of was how long it had been and how badly he was about to fuck up. He started backing away slowly, but Angel followed. 

He felt his knees buckle as he backed up into the bedframe. He fell back onto the bed and Angel leaned over him, using a pair of arms to hold himself up while the other two ran down his chest. Husk’s throat felt like it had closed up and he gasped for air. 

“W-wait.” 

[iloveakindofmagic]

PLEASE STAY AWHILE

One shot

Relationship: Deacury (John Deacon x Freddie Mercury)

Words:  2.7k

Summary:

If the death of Freddie Mercury had not happened and it was only a dream that a bassist had...

... would life give Freddie a second chance to be loved?

November 27, 1991

It was a day more cloudy than normal, large gray clouds covered the London sky with threats that it was going to rain.

The world of rock and music were in mourning ...

...Freddie Mercury died ...

~ • ~

Days before the vocalist, pianist and showman of the famous band Queen had left this world due to complicated pneumonia by AIDS, which he had acquired in 1987. Freddie, however, he kept it quiet, to avoid scandals and harassment by the press, although the latter was impossible, since the paparazzi had surrounded his house since the rumors began that he had this terrible disease.

But despite everything, he denied such rumors. Until the condition worsened and the end of Freddie approached. He decided that it was time to reveal to the world his true state of health. All the media reported the new declaration of the QUEEN’s vocalist

The day after the news, Freddie Mercury passed away ...

Thousands of QUEEN fans gathered outside the singer's house to say goodbye, singing songs, leaving messages of farewell to the singer who had become a Rock legend...

~ • ~

Now, Freddie's funeral was going to take place this day. Family, friends and the members of QUEEN were present to say goodbye to him.

For the band, Freddie's death was the most painful, they had lost an essential member of the band, an excellent singer and above all a good friend with whom they shared thousands of anecdotes.

The remaining members of QUEEN were completely devastated, especially the bassist John Deacon, who for him, the vocalist was his best friend, protector and motivation. He was deeply affected by this terrible loss, to such a degree that he was crying throughout the funeral.

After the funeral, Brian went to take a vacation with Anita so he could take in everything that was going on, Roger went home with Debbie and their children. John for his part went home to be with Veronica and spend time with his children to get through this.

The bassist came home, he was still devastated. He climbed the stairs and came to his room and then locked the door, he did not want to talk to anyone, he just wanted to be alone and let his tears flow freely. His wife understood that the death of his best friend affected him. She preferred to leave him alone for that day and the next morning she would talk to him.

John was sitting on the bed, he had a bottle of whiskey in his hand, he was drinking and letting the tears and sadness wash over him.

He couldn't believe what was happening, his heart was in pieces. He had lost one of the most important people in his life. He had a strange mix of sadness, hatred, anger, and guilt.

He felt guilty and hated himself for two strong reasons: on the one hand it was for not having been able to protect Freddie from fucking Paul Prenter, that bastard led Freddie to the world of debauchery and total perdition, which was the cause of that he got AIDS.

But he also hated himself for not expressing his feelings ...

John loved Freddie. At first he believed that it was a kind of affection and admiration for the Persian for protecting him and motivating him to write songs, however, one day he realized that he was more than a friend.

However, it was slow for John to realize that he was bisexual. He always hid these feelings because he had a wife and children. It did not mean that he did not feel love towards Veronica, he loved her, but not intensely as he did with Freddie.

But now John was broken inside. The love of his life was forever gone from this world and Freddie would never return.

He wished this was all just a bad dream and that Freddie was alive.

He lay back on the bed and he kept crying. The memories of Freddie are on the bassist's mind, he remembered the beautiful brown eyes that he had, his lips, that energy that made him unattainable.

How could he be so stupid? Why did he never confess his love to her? He wondered over and over as he took another sip from the whiskey bottle.

John was a mixture of sadness and drunkenness. His eyelids began to feel heavy, he let himself be carried away by Morpheus's arms, falling deeply asleep.

~ ☆ ~

~ ☆ ~

~ ☆ ~

John woke up with a severe headache, he had a huge hangover. It was already night, he had slept most of the day, his family must be worried about him.

Before getting up he realized something: He was not sleeping in his room, he was not even at home, but he was sleeping on a sofa that was in the main living room of Freddie's old house.

The bass player was puzzled. How the hell had he gotten there? Was he too drunk and traveled to Freddie's house? Everything was very confusing.

He got up and went to a bathroom that was close to him. He wiped his face with water and turned his gaze to a mirror. It was observed carefully, her hair was completely brown, there was no whiteness in her hair; his face was free of wrinkles, his appearance was as if he had turned when he was 28 years old, the age he was in 1979. He was confused.

"What the hell is happening here?" Thought John.

Suddenly, John heard a melody provided by a piano, then John out of his thoughts, it meant that he was not alone in that house. It was a melody so harmonious and powerful at the same time began to be heard. John could recognize him from thousands of miles away.

Quickly, he got out of the bathroom and walked around the house in search of the origin of that beautiful melody. The house was practically dark. Meanwhile, he finds a lighted room in the shadows, slowly he approached and leaned out to then find a surprise that left him in shock.

He was there, he was alive ...

... Freddie was alive ...

And there was Freddie, playing the piano. He looked so handsome, jovial, full of energy. He had short hair, however, he did not have the characteristic mustache of the 80s. Meanwhile, the brunette turned his back to the bassist as he focused on playing the piano while singing "You and I".

"Laughter ringing in the darkness

People drinking for days gone by

Time don't mean a thing

When you're by my side

Please stay awhile ..."

John had written that song to Freddie so that he could indirectly realize his feelings and an invitation to have something more than a simple friendship. John wanted to cry, he couldn't believe his eyes, he was seeing Freddie again, he was hearing his melodious and beautiful voice again.

Was he dreaming? Did he go back to 1979? o Was Freddie's death just a bad dream? Whatever it is, he wanted to keep the brown-eyed there forever.

"You know I never could

foresee the future years

You know I never could see

Where life was leading me

But will we be together forever?

What will be my love?

Can't you see that I just don't know"

The bassist listened carefully the song performed by the vocalist.

"I can hear the music in the darkness

Floating softly to

where we lie

No more questions now

Let's enjoy tonight

Just you and I

Can't you see that we've gotta be together

Be together just you and I just you and I

No more questions just you and I "

...

When Freddie finished the song, he turned to look towards the door, finding John standing on the threshold of it, he gave him a smile

“Finally, You had woken up, Deaky” Freddie said, approaching where John was standing “You had drunk too much and fell asleep. Brian and Roger left, so …” He was interrupted by a sudden hug provided by John, taking the persian by surprise. Freddie responded quickly to this act.

“Don't go …” John said and began to cry in the arms of the vocalist “I don't want to lose you again” John whispered in the Persian's ear deepening the hug, he blushed.

"W-What are you talking about, John?" He said, he was puzzled “I am here... I'm not going anywhere” He separated a little to see the child's eyes and meet his beautiful green eyes full of tears, which worried Freddie. "What's wrong, John?" He asked as he caressed the minor's pale face causing him to shudder.

If this was just a game of his mind and he was only dreaming, he didn't want to wake up anymore. This felt more than a dream, it felt so real, Freddie's touch was so warm and comfortable.

The Persian took him to the kitchen and invited him to sit down.

"Do you want some tea?" He offered with a small smile, John just nodded.

He made and poured the tea into two cups. They were both silent for a long time as they took small sips of the drink.

“I had a dream, Fred" The youngest began to speak “In that dream you contracted a terrible disease and …” He stopped to take a breath “... You died young” John burst into tears again. “You left me alone, Freddie …” The Persian was shocked by such words, he worried about forJohn, he didn't like to see the bassist cry.

If there was one thing Freddie hated, it was someone or something hurting John, because these hurt him too. They were hurting the most important person in his life and the person he loved. That I did not forgive anyone.

Freddie had loved John since he had joined the band, he was different from the other men he had known. His way of being with him, his sweetness and innocence; Those green eyes which tore when he laughed, he was perfect for Freddie. He had always silenced his feelings because he knew that he loved Veronica, his wife with whom he had procreated beautiful children.

That is why he only limited himself to protecting and supporting him as a kind of minor brother.

“Oh, darling…” Freddie hugged John and he responded by hugging him tighter, letting his tears flow “I will never leave this world soon ... Brian, Roger and especially you will have Freddie for many  years, I promise " He whispered sweetly. They continued hugging, enjoying the warmth.

John separated a bit from the older one

“Freddie, you must stay away from Paul Prenter” He changed his tone of voice to a serious voice, surprising the vocalist.

“John I …”

“He's not a good guy …” John interrupted Freddie letting go of the hug “He will make you fall into bad steps and that bad dream can come true” his hands held the vocalist's face and staring at him “ Please, let me protect you like you have always done”

“O-Okay John” Freddie blushed at John's words “Tomorrow morning I’m going to fire Paul”

A satisfied smile appeared on John's face, he felt that he had saved from a dark fate to Freddie.

They stared in silence, a slight blush appeared on their faces. Suddenly they both began to draw their faces closer, their hearts were beating fast, they could both feel their breaths.

They finally closed the distance when their lips met in a loving kiss. They both enjoyed that kiss, they transmitted thousands of emotions and feelings that they had saved for a long time.

Before they could deepen the kiss, Freddie reacted and separated of John quickly

“J-John, I'm sorry …” The vocalist got up from his chair, he felt that he had ruined a great friendship “I shouldn't have done it …”

“ Freddie, wait …” the brunette grabbed his wrist before he left “Haven't you realized?” He got up from the chair and grabbed the brunette's hands “I love you, Freddie. I've always loved you”

Freddie blushed when he heard those words, he was surprised.

“B-But Veronica …”

“The love I feel for her doesn't compare with the great love I feel for you” John got closer to Freddie, being inches away from him. They could see the difference in stature between them, John was taller than Freddie and the older man liked that difference.

The bassist hugged the older man's waist and brought him closer to him, blushing Freddie more

“I love you from the first day I saw you and I will always love you, Fred”

Freddie started to cry, he was very happy to hear those words

“Deaky, darling ... “ his hands held John's neck “I love you too much and I will love you forever”  

John blushed, he couldn't believe what he was hearing, he was very happy. Freddie stood on tiptoe and approached John’s face.

"You don't know how much I wanted this feeling to be mutual, John."

They both joined their lips in a sweet kiss, they felt that nothing else mattered but just the two of them. Now they could finally be happy together.

They deepened the kiss, now their tongues danced between them, exploring her oral cavities. The bassist’s lips traveled to Freddie's neck and he kissed his neck, drawing moans from the vocalist.

Freddie took John to his room and there they continued with the passionate kissing session ...

Finally, they made love with passion. Freddie was very happy, he had felt John inside of him and it was so special. It was the best sex Freddie had ever had in his life, it was so romantic and so passionate at the same time. Besides he was very happy to have made love to the person he most loved.

John was happy to finally be with the love of his life. For John it was not just sex , it was the beginning of a relationship and a new path in Freddie's life.

Both of them finally fell asleep hugging each other.

~ • ~

John woke up the next morning, he was naked and he was covered only with a sheet. Slowly he opened his eyes and found that the vocalist was not at his side.

A fear seized him when he saw that Freddie was not in bed.

Was it all a dream? Was Freddie really dead? He thought.

I was about to cry, when suddenly, Freddie came in holding a tray with a plate full of toast with cheese and orange juice. John immediately changed his face.

“Good morning, Deaky” He left the tray on the nightstand and approached the bassist to kiss his lips.

“Good morning, Fred” He said without stopping to see his new boyfriend.

The singer wore a kimono that he had gotten on one of the many tours to Japan. John was stunned to see him in that garment.

"Do you like what you see?" The old man modeled. John was able to see her naked and well turned thighs, she looked so fucking sexy with that.

“Y-Yes" He blushed "You look beautiful, Freddie" He confessed with a slight smile. Freddie's face  turned red when he heard those words.

"Thanks, Deaky" She sat on the bed and leaned over to kiss him sweetly. "I love you"

“I love you more, Fred ... And I will love you always” John whispered and then gave him a deep kiss full of love and passion ...

~ • ~

Freddie fired Paul without saying any reason that same day . His ex assistant threatened to divulge everything he knew about him, however, the vocalist gave it little importance, since he had already found that person to love and he didn’t care about anything else.

While John asked for a divorce from Veronica, she understood John’s feelings towards Freddie and she didn’t oppose his decision, the woman promised that she would be discreet with the relationship he had with Freddie. He said to her that his children wouldn’t lack anything and every weekend he would spend time with the children.

A new story full of love and mutual affection began. John didn’t know if life had given them a second chance to be happy together and Freddie could live without having contracted that damn disease or it was just a very real nightmare. The only thing he was sure of was that he was going to do everything possible to make him happy and be that somebody to love that Freddie had always sought. He was going to protect and love him forever so that the dream he had was just it ...

... Just a dream ...

*THE END*

Hi! This is my first story that I post in Tumblr. I hope you liked it. I love write fanfics about Deacury relationship!

Please visit my ao3, Instagram and Wattpadñ. You can find me under the same name: ILoveAKindOfMagic

Greetings! 💞

[cilldaracailin]

We Are The Champions

Hello my Tumblr Lovelys,

Happy Wednesday! Half way there!

Here is the next part in this Robyn and Taron series.

Suze xx

You know I love a good long squishy hug and a Robyn speech... Be prepared. ;)

Also just throwing out there, that this representation of characters in this story is not my own personal opinion but is just needed for the story. :)

13

“Broken glass. It's just like glitter, isn't it?”

Taron drove them into Aberystwyth, making the short drive to the beach front, finding a parking space close to Eve’s café on the back streets. The evening was still balmy and warm, the sun beginning to set sitting low in the sky and Robyn was hating the thought of heading back to the rain after such a lovely weekend in the warm weather. So comfortable in her light clothes, she knew she was back to jeans and hoodies once home, stuck inside unless she put on a raincoat to brave the weather. She waited for Taron to lock the car and slung her bag over her shoulder. She felt much better, the two paracetamol she took before she left the house helping the ache in her leg to ease off and although she wished for a bit of a sit down before they left, it was probably for the best because if she sat down, she happily would have stayed on Taron’s couch. It didn’t mean she wasn’t looking forward to the dinner with his family. She not only knew how important it was to his family but to Taron too, even if he wouldn’t say it out loud. Having to leave his family to go back to work was always hard, even when he tried not to show it, keeping a smile on his face.

“You remember, just give my hand a tight squeeze if you want to leave.” Taron walked beside her directing her down the street towards the corner which the café was nestled on.

“I know but you too, ok? Don’t feel you have to sit all night. You have an early rise.”

“Really should have packed before I left.”

Robyn laughed at him. “Definitely would have been a great idea.”

“I will do it later on. Not much to pack and you always manage to pack loads in a small space. You could help me with…” Taron’s words trailed off as they rounded the corner, his feet stumbling a little as his eyes picked up the crowd outside the café. “Fucking hell.”

Robyn loosened her grip around his left arm, already hearing Taron’s name being called, the crowd of around twenty people starting to move down the footpath towards them.

“Robyn I am so sorry. There are so many people on holidays at the moment. Guess the news travelled around fast that I am home. Fucking bollocks.”

Robyn could hear the anger in his words and looking at his face, his features were very similar and she could feel the tension in his body. “It’s ok Taron.”

“Fucking annoying. Can’t even have an evening in my own family’s café without a herd around.” Taron didn’t care if he was seen out and about but Robyn was with him and he hated how she would be the talk of social media now, how those rumours were going to spread around about him and her spending time together. “Can’t even escape in through the door.”

“Back entrance?”

“Wish I had of thought of that beforehand but not now. Way too obvious.”

“There is only a few rocketman.” She heard him mutter but didn’t quite catch the words, actually glad she didn’t. She knew he was furious and it was for her benefit he had gotten so mad. “Honesty has always been our thing with the fans and the media.” He huffed a little beside her. “Don’t make me walk up there by myself.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would and you need to breathe. I would rather fans, then press.” She pulled on his hand. “You can’t avoid it now.” Taking the lead, Robyn held Taron’s hand tight and started to drag him towards the small group of excited girls.

Taron hated that Robyn was right, that she was the one who had to make him see the best thing to do was walk into the fans and accept that he had to play nice though it made his heart thump in anticipation of the backlash on the social media. “You stay back, ok?” He advised her. “I will talk to the fans. You just wait behind me a good bit. I will be as quick as I can.” Putting his best smile on, he let go of Robyn’s hand stepping away from her, hoping it wasn’t too obvious that he had previously stayed so close to her, taking some longer steps, getting his body a few feet in front of hers, trying to hide her a little from the oncoming group.

“Hello.” He said, keeping his tone bright, making sure he right in front of Robyn as he reached the crowd, hoping she understood his body language in getting to them before she did, praying she stayed back, letting him talk to all the female admirers who had found him. Pieces of paper, pens and phones were held out to him and taking the first one, he kept his smile on his face, his voice light, taking photo after photo. Though it always unnerved him when he met fans in his home town, he did always appreciate the support and for the first few minutes, chatted easily with the small crowd and he continued to smile his way through each one but soon found himself taking an extra step back each time the group pushed closer to them.

“Robyn’s here?” One of them asked after he had signed more than half of the pages passed to him, Taron’s eyes staring her way. “I am sure I saw her walking with you.”

Clenching his teeth, he hoped the crowd didn’t pick up on the serious protectiveness he felt for the Irish woman. “Around somewhere.” He answered with a light smile, signing the page shoved into his face by the same woman.

“Here for the weekend?”

“Sorry?” Taron asked handing the page back, feeling it snapped from his hands before he had even let go, the pen following.

“Robyn? Is she here for the weekend?” The woman asked again, now holding up her phone, taking a picture of him.

“Sorry?” Taron asked again, his eyes flinching with the flash on the camera phone.

“Robyn?” The woman asked again, more persistence in her voice. “Seems to be with you a lot lately.”

“Excuse me?” Taron stopped mid signature, his smile dropping a little.

“Just seeing her around and with you more than usual. She went to your premier too and I am sure I read something about you two being at the Royal Albert Hall together and we know you have visited her in Ireland as well.”

Taron quickly finished signing the page in hands and stepped back from the group, trying to put some space between them and him but also needing some space to breathe, suddenly feeling cornered by those around him and the questions about Robyn. A phone was shoved in front of him, the same high-pitched voice demanding that he took a selfie with them, those few steps he had taken to distance himself quickly filled again by the fans who had yet to have their piece of him.

“There you are!”

His whole body turned when he heard Robyn’s voice, soft and confident coming over the shouts near him, her face holding that stern look she always had when it came to anyone who was trying to unhinge him in anyway.

“I have been at the car waiting for ages for you!” She came over to him, giving him a smile. “You said         ten minutes max but of course I find you photobombing someone else’s photograph and having the chats. Hi there.” She acknowledged those behind him with a quick nod before she turned her whole body to Taron, focusing on his face, seeing some apprehension in his eyes. “Sorry to interrupt but I have been on the phone to your mother who is wondering where you are and why you are running late.” She placed her left hand very lightly on his right shoulder. “I hate to drag you away from your admiring fans but we are going to miss the reservation. I don’t think you want your mam calling you again. Already tried once but you didn’t pick up.”

“I felt the phone vibrate but didn’t answer it. Ahh shit. She’s going to be worried.”

Robyn shook her head at him, ignoring all the girls she could feel staring at her, concentrating on only Taron’s face. “I told her you got caught up but we are going to be late and we were already late.”

“Yeah of course. Thank you.” He turned back to the small crowd. “Sorry but when a mother calls looking for you, you must answer her wishes. Have a good evening.”

Turning on his heels, he walked in line with Robyn, away from the crowd, hurry in his steps, hoping no one was going to follow him, desperate to take her hand but keeping his to himself, walking around the corner back towards where he had parked the car. Once he was sure he was out of anyone’s eye line he reached for Robyn’s hand immediately, linking his fingers with hers.

Robyn had understood Taron’s warning when he gave it, asking her to stay back and had stopped walking, letting him continue on to greet the fans who had gathered outside his aunt’s café, waiting for him, not even knowing if he was going to turn up there. It was just like what had happened at the swimming pool during his premier weekend, where it had gotten out that he was staying at the hotel and fans had appeared. Robyn could only imagine how horrible it was for Taron to have no privacy in his own home town, seeing the tension he carried in his whole body as she watched the interaction with the fans, frowning as they demanded his attention for a photo or an autograph.

She desperately wanted to go and stand with him but knew it was best for her to stay back, to leave Taron with the girls, for her to be as invisible as possible. She back stepped around the corner, slightly spying on Taron and pulling her phone from her bag, called Tina to let them know they were going to be delayed as Taron met some fans outside but when she heard the tone of the conversation change, one fan pestering him about her, seeing the Welshman’s body language change into defensive mode, she asked Tina about a back entrance to the café, explaining Taron was going to need a quick escape. Once Tina had described where the entrance to the apartment was without going through the café, Robyn hung up the phone and made her way towards Taron and on hearing her name mentioned again her defensiveness and ultra-protectiveness of Taron mode in full force. Apparently, Taron had been right to be wary of the group, particularly one who wasn’t letting the subject of their time together go and she was so glad to have been able to give him an excuse to walk away. She could feel how hard he was holding her hand, how he was slightly shaking as they walked. Seeing the door Tina had mentioned, she gave Taron’s hand a sharp pull left, opened the door and stepped in, making sure he was right behind her, closing the door tight.

Taron was so caught up in his rage of what had just happened, he hadn’t been concentrating on where he was going and only looked up when he felt Robyn drop his hand and heard a door close. He quickly recognised the back store room or Eve’s café and looked to Robyn, his whole body still seething over the nerve of a few of the fans, one in particular. He felt warm hand on his back and looked to Robyn. “Fucking life saver.” Taron breathed, wiping his hands down his face. “Thank you Robyn. Fucking hell what a nightmare.”

“Need a squishy hug?” Robyn asked him.

“Always.”

It was a tight one and Robyn swore she could feel him still shaking a little and wasn’t too sure if it was from anger or something else entirely but she hugged him around his back hard. “Should I keep an eye out for some social media nonsense?” She asked him.

“Don’t know what their problem is.” Taron ranted into her neck. “So what if you are here with me. Not a big fucking deal.”

“To you it’s not, but to them it is. Taron Egerton seen with the same female woman since September last year, one who has accompanied him to his events is going to start people thinking and talking.”

“People need to mind their own fucking business!” Taron spat.

“Hey, hey!” Robyn moved away from him and placed her two hands on his cheeks, not missing how his eyes wouldn’t meet hers. “Taron look at me. Look at me.”  Slowly he raised his eyes to meet hers. “Are you really going to do this?”

“Do what?” He hissed. “Let them talk like that?”

“Well to be fair Taron, they only asked if it was me who was with you and I was so it wasn’t like they were making up a story or anything.”

“Robyn…” Taron growled.

“And?”

“Robyn!” His voice rose and even her hands on his cheeks couldn’t ease his annoyance.

“Taron Daivd Egerton. Whatever happened outside, Robyn does not deserve to be spoken to like that.”

Taron couldn’t meet his mother’s eyes, her voice enough for him to know he had taken his frustrations out on the wrong person and lifted his hands to Robyn’s which were still on his face. “Sorry.” He whispered to her.

Robyn smiled at him. “Really got on your nerves.”

“I understand it is part of my job but just leave you out of it.”

“But it’s so exciting to see Taron and Robyn out together in Aberystwyth. Why is she here? What is she doing? Has Taron got a new girlfriend?”

“Robyn…” This time his voice was softer, knowing well she was teasing him. “It’s not funny.”

“It’s a little bit funny that those people out there are so worried about why I am here and what makes it even better is that they never got an answer.”

“Which makes the rumour mill churn a little harder.” Taron’s hands dropped to his sides. “Sorry.”

“No need. I understand.”

“Thanks for the rescue.”

“That was your mam.” Robyn looked to Tina who was waiting patiently for them. “I gave her a quick call. She gave me the directions to the secret entrance and if anyone tried to follow us, they won’t have any idea where we went.”

“Just be prepared, ok?”

Robyn got the hidden meaning behind his words and nodded, taking her hands from his cheeks. “Now how about we go and have some dinner.”

“Yeah alright.”

“Chin up rocketman. Don’t worry about shit until it happens and if it happens, we will deal with it like we always do.”

“Always fucking something.” He grumbled.

“Get there first then, before something happens. Use one of the photos from the weekend. Post it up and write a quick caption about being home for a family birthday.”

“You are spending too much time with Lyndsey.”

“Or you.” Robyn added with a smile. “Once upstairs, flick through your photos and pop it up. Don’t worry about what happened out there. It will blow over. It always does. Now come on upstairs, put a smile on that handsome face.”

Taron wished it was easy as that to shut his mind off. He did not want anything horrible to be written about Robyn online from fans who knew nothing about why she was there and he definitely did want anyone to find out what happened to Mari and what his wonderful caring friend did for his sister. “You go on ahead. I am going to give Lyndsey a quick call.”

“Taron, surely that can wait until after dinner.” Tina walked over to her son. “Love, I know it is frustrating for you but don’t let it ruin your last night here with us.” She looked at his face, seeing a hard look behind his eyes, one she had seen so many times before when her son was in one frame of mind and nothing she could say would change his mind. “Five minutes Taron.”

“Thanks mam. Robyn go on up. I will be right behind.”

“Taron…” Robyn stepped over to him and took his hand, not caring that Tina was right there beside her. “You really don’t have to do this now. It can wait.”

“The sooner I call Lyndsey the sooner she can do some damage control for me.”

“Taron…”

“Go on up chicken. I will be five minutes.” He leaned in to kiss her forehead. “Maybe do some of your own damage control upstairs with my sisters?”

“Sure rocketman. I will come and get you though if you are longer than fifteen minutes.”

Taron’s laugh was forced just like his smile and once he heard the door close upstairs to the apartment, he pulled out his phone, calling his publicist.

“Please tell me you didn’t carry her into the ocean again?”

“No not this time.”

“What’s up Taron. Can’t get into too much trouble with your family.”

“I can if fans hang around Eve’s café and start asking questions about Robyn.” Taron replied his annoyance building again.

“Talk me through it.”

Taron huffed and puffed through what happened outside the café, his words getting mixed up, his sentences muddled, eventually getting his words right to tell Lyndsey what happened. When he was finished there was a brief moment of silence before Lyndsey answered him.

“So Taron remember when I told you back in April how you needed to make a decision around Robyn? Is she just a friend you have in the background, one you keep inside or is she someone you would be proud to have on your arm, a woman you want there by your side through everything, a woman you are so in love with.”

“Lyndsey, you know the answer to that question.” Taron answered quietly.

“Then you need to stop having a freak out every time you are seen with Robyn or if the fans see you with her. You have been in this business long enough to know that people are going to talk Taron and you are well able to ignore it all but of course I will do some recon for you if it is needed. You said nothing bad happened except fans asking where she was and then she came up with the most perfect and acceptable excuse to leave. You posted any photos from being home yet?”

“No, haven’t really had a chance. It has been an eventful weekend.”

“Maybe just post one up.”

“Robyn told me to do that.”

Lyndsey grinned on the end of the phone. “You really need to start listening to her.” Taron heavily sighed. “Anything else I need to know about the weekend to keep an eye out for.”

“Shit loads but I don’t have the time to go through them now. Can I call with you them tomorrow?”

“Wanna give me the cliff notes? Just so I know what I am getting into here.”

“Mari got caught at the rock pools at the beach this afternoon when the tide came in, Robyn rescued her and got cut up on some rocks.”

“Taron seriously?”

“I wish I was making this stuff up Lyndsey, I really do. I just pray there was no photographers around.”

“I haven’t heard anything Taron. Is Robyn ok? Mari?”

“Everyone is fine. Just a weekend full of it.” Taron ran his left hand down his face, feeling tired and drained over the whole thing, wishing hard he had another day at home just to relax.

“Right here is what we are going to do. You are going to post a photo from the birthday party and you need to make the decision on whether Robyn is in it or not. I cannot make that choice for you but if you choose to have her in it, it opens that can of worms you are afraid to let loose.”

“Lyndsey…”

“You want her in your life Taron.”

“More than anything.”

“Then think hard about which photo you choose. I promise to do a thorough search for you and you call me back tomorrow so we can talk in more detail about your weekend. Please stop overthinking everything Taron. You know the fans like her, the media too and you have had no bad press if you really think about it and the one photo was retracted which caused a fuss. You always do this and get yourself in such a state and worked up over nothing. You have a wonderful support with Robyn and you know she can handle herself.”

“She means everything to me Lyndsey. I don’t want her to be hurt.”

“You will never let that happen Taron. Never but you can’t hide her away. You need to let the world see why you love her so much. Now let me do my job and you go and enjoy the last night with your family. Stop carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders Taron. The world isn’t out to get you Taron. Lower your defensives a little.”

Another heavy sigh filled Taron’s lungs. Lyndsey could always cool him down in seconds with logic. “It’s hard.”

“Bullshitting me again Taron? You been in this business a long time and have always protected your family when it came to the media. I know Robyn is a new addition to your life and you have suddenly become extra cautious but don’t change what you know or are used to or your professionalism. Don’t let a bunch of fans get under your skin. Leave that to Robyn.”

Taron’s lips lifted slightly. “I am sorry Lyndsey. I freaked out a little.”

“A little?”

“Ok a fucking lot.”

Lyndsey laughed at him. “Trust her Taron. You think she would have stuck around this long and actually put up with your moods if she didn’t know what she was getting herself into. Ask her about the photo. I think her answer will surprise you. Maybe she likes being seen with you. No idea why but she does.”

Taron thought the world and more of his publicist and once the call ended, wandered up the stairs trying to force a smile on his face, hearing laughter before he even reached the door to the apartment above the café. Pushing on the handle, he knew he was the subject of the conversation when he appeared in everyone’s eyeline and the laughter stopped.

“Taron!” Mari was up out of her chair like a light and over to her brother. “You are always late!”

“Sorry Mari.” He kissed his sister’s cheek. “I had a phone call.”

“Aunt Eve is telling Robyn lots of funny stories about you.”

“Oh she is, is she?” Taron looked to his mam and aunt who were trying to keep their faces serious. He carried Mari over to the table and carefully set her down. “Well I am not surprised.” He slipped into the seat beside Robyn. “You ready to run away yet?” He asked her, reaching for her hand under the table.”

“Not at all.” She returned his squeeze, keeping her hand tight in his.

She didn’t exactly climb the stairs but was rather pushed up them by Tina as she tried to linger on the steps to hear the conversation Taron started with Lyndsey but had no choice but to scramble up to the top of the stairs, continuing on her way in through the open door, her voice called excitedly by Taron’s sisters. It was a horrible anxious wait and she kept her face bright, chatting with the girls and Taron’s family, accepting their invitation to sit down, happy to be off her feet but it was hard to concentrate on his family, answer their questions when she was worried about Taron. She knew from the moment she had met him, keeping her name out of social media had always been his top priority, wanting to keep her privacy but Robyn understood it was not always possible if she wanted to be a part of his life and because she needed to be a part of his life, she accepted and understood that at times there was going to be crap written about her. As far as Robyn was concerned, the fans weren’t actually asking anything out of turn. Perhaps that one fan, a bit more insistent on knowing the truth if she had seen her with Taron but Robyn wasn’t afraid of being seen with Taron. Truth be told, of course she didn’t want her photo pasted all over social media, rumours spreading about her but to be with Taron, to see him and spend time with him, she would accept it was going to happen.

“Robyn?”

She looked to Taron’s mam who had clearly asked her a question but so lost in her own thoughts she had missed it. “Sorry Tina.”

“He’s fine.” Tina reached across the table to take the young woman’s hand. “How are you? Did he look after you?”

Robyn nodded. “He did and I am ok thank you. When we got up here, he was able to get a proper look and the scratches are actually that bad.”

“You do know I walked behind you up the stairs.”

Robyn took her hand from Tina, brushing her hair behind her ears. “I bruise very easily and honestly; it really isn’t too bad. Taron covered the worst of the cuts and please don’t start worrying Tina. I already have Taron on red-alert, I don’t need another member of the Egerton family doing so too for me.”

Tina didn’t get to reply as the door opened and Taron walked in and Robyn knew the smile on his face was for show and it stung her to know he was still upset by what happened outside. Thankfully his little sister running to him seemed to lighten his mood a little and the return squeeze to her hand as he sat beside her, settled her a little bit.

“So stories?” Taron asked still keeping Robyn’s warm hand in his.

“Nothing to get over excited about love.” His mam assured him. “Not why don’t you both get something to eat. Eve has set up some dishes on the counters. Go and help yourselves. We have already eaten but I am sure the girls will go for seconds of dessert.”

Whatever hunger Taron had been feeling was long gone but to appease his mother he stood up, Robyn’s hand still clutched in his and they walked together over to the counter tops where Eve had set up a number of hot and cold dishes, most of which were prepped in her café before her family had arrived.

“It all looks delicious Eve.” Robyn turned to Taron’s aunt. “Thank you for doing this.”

“Yeah Eve. Thank you.” Taron agreed. “Looks great.”

“Please dig in. There is plenty to go around.”

Taron handed Robyn a plate and took one for himself though looking at the food made his unsettled and nervous stomach turn a little. He picked up a bread roll, dropping it on his plate, by-passing all the hot food following Robyn who had yet to take anything.

“Not feeling it?” He asked her quietly.

“Not really.” She looked to his empty plate. “I guess that conversation with Lyndsey didn’t go to well.”

Taron placed his plate on the counter. “It was ok actually. She hasn’t seen anything yet. I just wanted to give her the heads up in case something appears.”

“It really worries you, doesn’t it. My name rolling around social media.”

Taron half shrugged. “I know you understand and you have been so accepting of it but it doesn’t mean you should have to deal with it. I don’t want your name being thrown out there because some fans are bitches.”

“Taron!” Robyn scolded him, putting her own plate down. “They only asked if I was around.”

“It’s none of their business.”

Robyn stepped right into his body and pulled him a little more roughly than she meant into her for a hug. “Firstly, your family is right there so now really isn’t the time to get riled up about this. Secondly, I am sure you have already had it out with Lyndsey who gave as good back to you and thirdly until you understand that even though I know it fucking kills you inside and you get all fierce and protective of me, you need to understand that I am ok with how this is part of your life and I accept that and I am not letting you go until you do. I do get it Taron and I always have and you know this. I wouldn’t change being your friend for anything in this world and let them talk Taron, not that they have anything to talk about. So they saw us walking down the street together. So what? We can’t visit each other? We can’t spend some time together after what we have been through. I want to be in your life as your friend and that is never going to change so you are going to have to deal with the fact that this is something that is going to occur every now and again but don’t call your fans bitches because one was rude. That’s not fair to the many who are amazing.” She squeezed him a little harder around his waist. “We have been open and honest with any reporter and fan who asked, that this is something neither of us will ever walk away from and you have to stop getting annoyed every time someone talks about me. I know you want to stop it but you can’t. It is just how it is. Please just try and let it be.” She moved her hands so could roll her palms around his back in long circles. “I hate watching you get so upset over it. It is not worth it and after all your years in the business surely you know by now just to let it slide. Let Lyndsey look after it. Never let you down yet.” Robyn moved her head to let it rest under his chin, cuddling into him. “Your time is so short with your family. You go back to work tomorrow and you are letting it get under your skin. Life is too short for this shit Taron and you of all people should know this after what you went through. I don’t want you to be troubled over it.” Robyn placed her head over his heart, feeling it pounding in his chest. “So not worth it and I mean it Taron, I am not letting you go, until you accept it.” To further her point, she circled her arms around his back, clasping her arms together.

Taron would never ever understand how he got so lucky and gently lifted Robyn off her feet for a second before resting his chin on her head, his eyes closed tight, hugging her hard. He didn’t care that his parents were meters away, that this type of cuddle was one always saved for when they were alone because he needed it and needed it badly. The pull on his arms as he embraced her hurt his shoulders but he didn’t care. “Thank you.”

“Not letting you go.”

“I am actually ok with that.”

Robyn chuckled against his warm torso. “And…”

“They just don’t understand what a wonderful person you are and words hurt.”

“They don’t anything about me Taron and naturally are going to ask and not because they are rude or insensitive but because you like me and they like you. Some are going to rant and bitch but others really just want you to be happy but you can’t control it Taron. You are not able to stop it but if you really want it to stop it, it means we can’t hang out any more.” She felt his hold on her tighten. “And I don’t want that either. I love seeing you.”

“I love seeing you too.” He murmured into her hair.

“So, either we need to come to an agreement now or this is constantly going to be an issue and you have enough on your plate you don’t need this added. You have always trusted Lyndsey.”

“I do.”

“And nothing that has ever cropped up about me has been truly horrible Taron. As twisted as it sounds, you nearly dying and me saving you has given us a get out jail free card and more than one it appears. I would never have gone to any red-carpet event with you if I wasn’t comfortable or knew what I was getting myself into.” Robyn snuggled a little deeper into his chest, feeling the fast rise and fall of his body as he tried to calm himself down. “We have always been up front and honest.” She repeated. “It’s how we should be. I don’t mind them knowing I am here for Mari’s birthday and if they want to make shit up, let them. We have been here before and gotten through it and it is different now Taron. You know it is. I have my octopus.”

Taron understood exactly what Robyn was trying to explain to him, that she would tell him if she felt uncomfortable, if it got too much. “I am so sorry for being a dick downstairs.”

“A big fat one.”

His laughter echoed through his chest and it was such a beautiful sound. “A big fat one.” He repeated, still laughing a little. “Lyndsey hasn’t seen anything about what happened today.”

“Fantastic.”

“And she said she would have a little browse to see if anything about outside the café comes up.”

“Much rather the fan meet then what happened on the beach.”

“Yeah…” His words trailed off. “Robyn, Lyndsey told me I should post a photo of me at Mari’s birthday. I will ask mam if she is ok with me posting the selfie one I took in the garden of us all dressed up but you are in it too. Would you mind if I posted that one with you in it?”

“Not at all Taron.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.” Robyn eased her grip around his back and lightly ran her hands up and down his sides. “It’s the truth of the weekend. A birthday party with your family that I was invited too.”

“Can I hide in Kilcreen with you for a while.” Taron’s voice was quiet but serious.

“You want Kilcreen to be a little hidden sanctuary for you, then no. Best save it for little visits and times of desperation.”

“This is a time of desperation.”

Robyn lifted her head, which meant Taron had to lift his too. She stared up at him, his whole face now quite miserable. “No it is not. Post the photo. You will be surprised at the reaction. Just check with your family first.” Robyn stood on her toes so she could kiss his cheek, lingering a little longer than normal. “What will be, will be and you can’t do any more about it but if you keep letting it get under your skin, you are going to be on edge all the time. What has changed Taron? You know I will happily go to any event with you with full media coverage but a group of girls has you really freaked out.”

“A media event is different. It’s respectful. Lyndsey can control most of it. I can’t control keyboard warriors.”

“And you never will be able too.” She moved to kiss his other cheek. “Please let it go Taron.” She whispered into his warm skin. “And I am serious. I am not going to let you go until you relax.” Even as they spoke, Robyn had yet to feel Taron’s body unwind and loosen up. “I will go for the kill with a head massage next and a proper deep one and you know you can’t resist those ones.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“You even know me at all? I don’t care that your family is here.” Taron exhaled loudly, resting his forehead on her shoulder. “That an invitation rocketman?”

This time Taron properly laughed, nuzzling into her neck, hoping her hair covered how close he got to her skin. “I love you.” He mumbled into her skin.

“I love you too you nutjob.” She quietly returned. “Still not letting go.”

Taron knew the woman in his arms was deadly serious and as he looked up, he saw every member of his family staring at him and he quickly looked away and concentrated on hugging Robyn, breathing in her perfume, the feel of her body against his. Still pent up and frustrated, he wasn’t too sure how he was going to even try to lose the tension he still carried but he felt Robyn’s hands sneak into the clipped hair at the back of neck, once again working magic on the tightness he felt, he leaned his face further into her neck, his eyes closing. “Robyn…”

“Shh… It’s a hug.”

It was much more than a hug at this stage but Taron knew well Robyn would not move her hands until she knew he had calmed down. Thankful his mother couldn’t see what her hands were doing, he kept his eyes closed so he didn’t have to look their way. He concentrated on taking some easy breathes, telling his mind to shut off a bit, to stop over analysing everything. Both Lyndsey and Robyn were right but it was only because he wanted to protect Robyn with everything he had, having experienced the hatred of the media before, he never wanted her to be exposed to it and just acted like a jacked-up fool with the slightest chance of her good name being slandered. Feeling like an idiot, he let some more deep breathes fill him. “Ruin the whole weekend.”

Robyn wished she could have given his hair a little pull but it was too short and would have pinched his shoulders but didn’t want to hurt him more than he already was. “I heard that.”

“Sorry.”

“Stop saying sorry and you have ruined nothing. I was the emotional mess last time we met.”

“You had a reas…”

“Finish sentence and just wait to see what will happen to you.” The easy breath on her skin made her smile as he laughed a little. “This is one long hug.” She felt him smile into her neck. “You accepting it?”

“I guess so.”

“Guess so?” She asked digging her thumbs hard into his hair line at his neck, hearing the deep groan in his chest.

“I will and I do and I will try to not get to agitated over it.”

“That is all I can ask. I appreciate how protective you are but sometimes maybe being too protective just makes them want to dig more. We give a little, it can satisfy some questions.”

“Like you are here because of Mari’s party.”

“Exactly. Simple and honest.” Robyn agreed.

“Thank you Robyn.”

“You are so very welcome and you have two minutes before this gets overly suspicious with your family.”

Taron was smiling but sighed hard into her shoulder. “I don’t want you to go tomorrow. I don’t want to go tomorrow.”

“I will get to see you on set don’t worry.”

“I am so busy.”

“We always work it out. Now one minute and thirty seconds. You relaxed yet?”

“We will find out in one minute and twenty-eight seconds.”

[consumeconstantly]

Small Buff Girl Sightings Ch. 2

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | ao3

It’s now the end of Damian’s first week in Paris, and everything is ready for him to transfer into Francois Dupont. He really thought he had dodged the pointless education bullet by coming to France, but of course his father wouldn’t let that slip. However, if he has to continue getting an education he doesn’t need, he will at least get something productive done during the hours of his experience; he will explore the so-called akuma class that he has read up about. One Caline Bustier’s class, the same class that the Ladyblogger is in. The same class that Marinette is in.

He hopes it’s the same as it was in Gotham, or at least similar enough. He expects his reception to be a little different, since his last name has been changed to Grayson to avoid any unwanted attention. Maybe this means that his classmates won’t try to talk to him solely for the purpose of connecting to his family. That doesn’t mean that he wants to talk to any of them. Unless they’re all like Marinette; his brief interactions with her have been bearable, bordering on pleasant. He doubts her class will be similar, though, judging by the quick sweep that he does on all of the student’s social media accounts and the hours that he’s spent on the Ladyblog. From what he has gleaned, the social situation in the akuma class leaves much to be desired. Lila Rossi, who appeared on the Ladyblog multiple times two years ago in rather ridiculous interviews that have since been taken down, seems to be the crux of the class currently. The rest of the class, other than Marinette, who hasn’t appeared in most of the group pictures that her classmates take for the past two years, seem to have little common sense.

When he walks into the classroom, there is a huddle around Lila Rossi, who sits near the front of the classroom and looks astonishingly bored as her classmates talk to her. The members of the class don’t even look up at him when he comes in, instead looking at Lila with almost cult-like devotion, despite the awful shade of lipstick that did not look good on her-- seriously, who wore orange lipstick on a day to day basis? He spares them a moment of observation, decides that he’s not going to get along with his classmates at all, then takes a seat in the back. There is only one desk that has both seats empty-- or is at least currently unoccupied, judging by the lack of items on it. The desk in question is near the back of the classroom next to an exit. He prefers this to sitting in the front, at least.

Right before class starts, a girl drops into the seat next to him, the one that’s closer to the aisle instead of the exit, but the way that she pauses for a moment makes him think that she typically sits where he is, now. 

“Damian?” 

What luck. Marinette is his seat partner. One of the only people in Paris that he’s talked to that seems to be fairly tolerable. With the added bonus of her being fairly intelligent and able to hold her own. There isn’t much more that he could ask for in a seatmate. 

He is confused as to how such a girl is still in this seemingly god-awful class, but small blessings. He’s not going to complain about having Marinette by his side.

“Oh, you must be the transfer from America.” She pulls out a binder from her bag, sends a quick glance sent to Lila, then settles into her chair. Lila sends Marinette a look that Damian can’t quite decipher, but it’s not unfriendly. “If you want to get acquainted with the school, you can ask Lila or Alya. Lila’s the one with orange lipstick and green eyes. Alya’s the one in plaid with glasses. They’re the class president and deputy this year.”

Damian takes a few more moments to observe the class dynamics, particularly how Lila and Alya interact with those around them. The former holds a blonde boy that Damian is fairly sure is Adrien Agreste, and while he seems accustomed to having Lila hang off his arm, he doesn’t exactly look comfortable either. Lila’s eyes unsettle Damian. They look eerily similar to his mother’s, though there is much less ill intent held within them. Alya looks spineless and clingy, clearly uneducated about topics that she brings up one after another. He can’t hear what they are saying clearly from this distance, but he is certain that the small blonde girl was asking Lila to tell the story of how she saved Jagged’s kitten one more time, even though that story’s years old because Lila’s just so humble and modest and amazing. Surprisingly, Lila turns down the girl’s request, and continues to barely interact with her classmates while she continues to hold onto Adrien’s arm.

Jagged as in Jagged Stone, Damian assumes, and though he’s no fan himself, factoids about the rock star’s life have been shoved down his throat by Tim and Dick for the past five years, so how the hell could he not know that a) the star’s manager was deathly allergic and b) the star said that Fang was the best pet that could ever be and he could never want for anything more. 

“You can tour me around instead.” To be completely honest, he doesn’t need a tour around the school at all; Damian did do reconnaissance before starting this mission. He knows the school’s layout like the back of his hand after pouring over maps and information about Francois Dupont. However, he is particularly interested in the dynamics of the akuma class, and he might as well get insider information while he still can.

Marinette looks at Damian appraisingly. “I don’t know about that, Damian. Lila and Alya are fine at giving tours. You’d be in capable hands.”

“Hands capable of what?” Damian can’t imagine that Lila’s claws are good for anything except skewering people who tried to disprove her seemingly outlandish tales. He almost feels bad for Adrien, then thinks better of it; he doesn’t seem that uncomfortable with Lila, he just doesn’t seem to like her hand on his arm.

Marinette laughs, softly, focusing on the group. She moves her mouth so little that if anyone looks, it will appear as though he is talking to her without response. “Very funny. Seriously, if you want a tour, ask Lila or Alya. I’m really not the best person for the job.”

The teacher comes into the room, and the students slowly disperse back into their seats. 

#

When lunch comes around, Marinette packs her stuff up and gets out of the classroom so quickly, he wonders if she’s not some sort of athlete. 

“You’re Damian, the transfer from America!” Lila puts a manicured hand on his arm, and Damian almost thinks that he sees her lick his lips as his forearm flexes at the unexpected contact. He restrains himself from his initial thought to deck her, but barely.

He takes a deep breath and gets his disgust under control. He can control himself. Alfred and Dick have spent years ensuring that he knows what a normal reaction is to someone touching him. When his eyes aren’t seeing red anymore, he turns his attention back to the hand on his arm. Her nails are the same garish orange as her lips, and it’s the case of the chicken and the egg all over again. No matter which came first, though, the color looks bad on both. Jason will say that Damian can’t criticize the girl because of his own awful sense of color coordination, but there’s a reason why he doesn’t have any color in his wardrobe besides his Robin suit. 

“Come, sit with us.” Orange’s voice is nauseatingly fake.

Damian doesn’t outright refuse, but he does shake off the girl’s hand. She feels too similar to Talia up close. Her eye shape is eerily similar. She must be manipulative and cunning to have such a hold on the class. But, he might as well see exactly what the akuma class is all about.

He is escorted into the cafeteria, pushed next to Adrien, then given a lunch tray that has foods that look decidedly less than nutritious and possibly stale. At Gotham Academy, the food was always prepared by the best, so this is unusual for him.

“My name is Adrien. It’s nice to meet you.” Damian thinks the blond boy is nice enough, but he sounds tired and worn out. 

Moments later, Lila comes back from the bathroom and squeezes herself between Damian and Adrien, looping her arm through Adrien’s and then attempting to do the same with Damian. But his arms are so tightly at his side, that it’s impossible for her to wiggle her hand through. Damian is glad that he trained himself to eat with both hands, and quickly takes up a fork with his left. Her laugh is high and breathy, like she’s changed her voice to sound different.

He has to say that it feels disgusting, because it feels like she’s treating him as some sort of arm candy. For the first time in his life, he actually thinks about his gender and is very glad that he was born a boy. Had he been born a girl, there is no doubt that this kind of situation may have happened more often; Damian knows he’s attractive. His mother and father both have very good genes both look wise and talent wise.

Not even ten minutes go by, and Damian sees why Marinette high-tailed it out of the classroom so quickly. He wishes that he went with her instead, though he gets the feeling that he isn’t welcome to do so. 

The stories that Lila weaves for her life as of late are more convincing than the ones that his classmates have told him of her heroic deeds in the past. Damian can almost believe that they’re true-- helping out with food drives, volunteering with the Red Cross occasionally-- but he doubts the validity of any statement that comes from her mouth after finding the cache of interviews from three years ago. She’s focusing more on friends, she says as she tries to catch his arm again. She leans closer, and Damian can smell the floral perfume on her so strongly that it makes him nauseous. His mother never wore perfume. Nobody from the League of Assassins did. Perfume is something that’s traceable. After he was introduced to Gotham City, all of the women he came into contact with rarely wore perfume and when they did, it certainly wasn’t this floral fruity-fresh fragrance that Lila was drenched in.

She leans on him, and Damian’s pretty sure by the curve of the girl’s smirk and the glint in her eyes that he’s supposed to find the slight touch of her cleavage on his arm attractive. This paltry attempt at seduction is laughable. Even as a nine year old, his mother had him training against attacks like these. He was taught never to give into lust, and after living in a family like the Waynes, girls and boys alike threw themselves at him. If he wants a relationship, physical or otherwise, he can have one. He certainly doesn’t want a relationship with this Lila Rossi. Still, he doesn’t see why she has so much control over the classroom and certainly doesn’t see why Marinette is so excluded from their class. 

It’s the longest hour of his life, but Damian makes it through and nearly flees for the safety of the back seat in the classroom. Nearly, but not quite.

#

By the time Damian gets into the room, Marinette is already sitting at the desk again. She looks up, looks at Lila who has looped her arm with Adrien’s and is smiling at Damian like a cat who got the cream. Damian reads sadness and maybe a touch of concern when she looks at Adrien.

“Lunch was awful.”

“Was it.” It’s phrased like it should be a question, but it doesn’t sound like Marinette is curious.

“You could have told me.”

Her lips purse. She’s copying notes from the last class over again, making them neater and more organized. “That’s not my place.”

“You’re my seat partner.”

“So?”

“Somehow, you seem a lot more morally righteous when you’re out on the streets.”

“That’s different. Paris is Paris; class is class. There’s a time and place for everything.”

From the cacophony near the front rises Lila’s high pitched voice. Damian thinks that she’s modulated it in order to seem more innocent, more believable. “Oh, Adrien, I’m so happy that we’re going to have dinner together with your father tonight.” 

Marinette’s eyes raise from her paper. They search for Adrien. Adrien, whose shoulders are hunched in a way that speaks of tiredness and defeat. Adrien, who has eye bags that even concealer cannot fix. Adrien, who looks down at his hands and refuses to meet Marinette’s eyes and their soft, sad questions. 

Slowly, Marinette’s eyes lower. She blinks at her paper, then continues copying her notes. 

At the very least, Damian is glad that he’s sitting back here with the only sane person in this class. It isn’t like Damian is here to make friends anyways. It might have been helpful, but he doesn’t need other people’s help. He can manage on his own.

#

Scratch that, he could not manage. 

Damian now understands why Hawkmoth had not been captured even though it had been three years since his appearance. Magic is really annoying. 

He reports back to the Justice League that yes, the reports were true and no, he did not think it was a good idea to send anyone in yet and yes, he would continue to work on reconnaissance and figuring out who Hawkmoth was.

Despite three more akuma attacks(of increasing intensity) and hours prowling the internet, clues about Hawkmoth’s identity are few and far between. Early on in his mission brief, he was encouraged to not make contact with the Paris superheroes unless the situation got really bad and not to go patrolling the rooftops as Robin at all. They didn’t want to destress the Parisian heroes who had, at first, asked them for help, and then pleaded with them to not send anybody. All of the lack of information and lack of action gave him undue stress, more so than when he was back in Gotham. At least back there, the high stress situations he encountered would promptly be worked off by fighting a villain, sparring his brothers, or patrolling. He can’t do any of that here. 

The coffee he ordered finally arrives, and he downs it in one shot, surveying the streets in front of him. Parisians are weird. His classmates have one collective brain cell that resides with the orange monstrosity, Lila, and the people he meets on the streets are way too open and friendly for people who have been terrorized by a supervillain for three years. They should be more like the citizens of Gotham-- keeping their heads down, minding their own business. Instead, he’s been approached by countless people as he wandered around the city-- unsurprisingly, mostly from girls sent by a larger pack in attempts to get his number or ask him on a date-- and also by random people who want to cheer him up. What kind of person tries to cheer up random people on the streets? Apparently it’s something that many Parisians have taken to doing, in attempts to prevent more akumas. Damian doesn’t think it’s very successful on that part, and is more just an excuse for people who want to stick their noses where they don’t belong.

Marinette is the only Parisian who was better than decent at holding her own Damian’s seen so far; in the past week, he’s stopped three bag snatchers, two stalkers, and two random fights. It’s surprisingly lively for a city that is plagued by a villain who takes advantage of strong emotions. He asks one of the people he saves why this is so.

“Well, it’s been three years. For the first year, yes, we very much lived in fear. But Ladybug and Chat Noir always come to save the day, and they told us that holding in our emotions is even more unhealthy.” This, a man he saved from his stalker. “That talk came after they fought off a stream of very strong akumas that totalled the city, all because they had been repressing their emotions until the breaking point.”

That is useful information. It definitely explains why the city is the way it was, though with the number of tourists that Paris has, he’s surprised that this hasn’t become headlining news internationally. He finds a few threads on Twitter talking about it, but most people are convinced it’s some ongoing stunt for attention. Apparently there’s a movie out about Ladybug and Chat Noir? Damian knows that Mayor Bourgeois put an initial block on information about the akumas from getting out, but that shouldn’t have stopped the Justice League from getting their hands on information about the situation in Paris. However, the teams that have been looking into the situation since they found out have had very little luck finding anything other than conspiracy theories. If Damian hadn’t seen an akuma battle with his own eyes, he’d have thought he was sent on a wild goose chase. 

Damian feels a cross of pity for the Parisian superheroes and a brief moment of anger at Hawkmoth. From what he’s gathered, the Ladybug and Chat Noir are largely on their own. In that first year, there were a few other heroes in the mix-- a fox, a bee, a dragon, and a snake-- but their appearances became sparse and after a mass akumatization, they never appeared again. Ladybug and Chat Noir definitely stepped up their game in that second year, with Ladybug taking the lead so strongly that Damian isn’t sure that he can call them a pair of superheroes. 

Sure, the battles end more quickly with Chat Noir there, but there are plenty of occasions where he doesn’t show up at all and other fights where he stays out of the battle entirely. Oftentimes, in the second year, both heroes looked extraordinarily tired and peaky. Then, something had changed, and Ladybug no longer seemed to be bothered. That was when Chat Noir started staying out of more and more battles, and the few times that he showed up, he always ran off first. Their media appearances, which had been rather heavy in the first year, dwindled down to a few periodic and important announcements. Other than that, they never gave more interviews to smaller blogs, like the Ladyblog. He has to say that he’s not surprised; even though Alya has taken them down, Lila’s interviews were still riddled with lies and she had posted them. Ladybug must have felt that the blog's integrity decreased. 

All of this meaningless information leads him nowhere. The Ladyblog and several other news sources have contemplated Hawkmoth’s identity and purpose, but they all seem far fetched. Motivations include everything from world destruction to believing that this is all just a ploy to get Ladybug and Chat Noir media attention. There’s not even any concrete conclusion on Hawkmoth’s gender, though the majority opinion holds that he is a man.

He sees Marinette from the coffee shop windows. It’s amazing that this girl seems to be everywhere all at once. She always ends up near the akuma attacks, but he never spots her during them, which is curious. There’s only so many reliable places to hide. Today, she’s facing down some adult while holding a child behind her. The lady looks furious, red-faced and spittle flying. In contrast, Marinette looks calm and cold, and addresses the woman cordially, though not with respect.

A crowd gathers, but as in all things that might be dangerous, they form at a distance, with phone cameras at the ready. Damian joins them and watches the situation unfold.

“He’s my child. I get to decide how to discipline him.” The lady is wearing an expensive looking suit that is a little over the top. Her hair is perfectly coiffed, and her handbag costs at least two thousand dollars. 

“Even if he is your child, that doesn’t mean you can hurt him like this. Mademoiselle, I suggest that we go to the police station now.”

“I don’t have time for that. This brat already cost me an hour of my time to pick him up from school because he was misbehaving, and I have to get to the office now.” The lady hisses, draws closer, ready to push Marinette and grab her child. Marinette side steps, pulling the child behind her. 

“You’re a mother. Make time for your child. We are going to the police station, Mademoiselle, or I will call the police here.”

“I am one of the head managers of Silverstein and Company’s Paris branch. You are just a teenager. You have no place arguing with me over parenting tactics.”

“I am only a teen,” Marinette conceded, “But even a child knows when something is wrong and should be stopped. And abusing your child, Mademoiselle, is very clearly wrong.”

Marinette brings out her phone-- she must have the station on speed dial. Now, the woman approaches Marinette with a heavy hand, ready to slap her. The kid is hiding behind Marinette and quivering, very much afraid of his mother. He’s holding Marinette’s hand so tightly that Damian can see her fingertips have begun to turn blue. 

Damian figures this is as good a time as any to intervene, so he puts himself between Marinette and the lady. Marinette backs up a little more, bends down to the kid and pats his shoulder. 

“It’ll be okay,” Marinette says to the kid soothingly. She seems like the type to babysit. Good with kids, creative enough to keep them out of trouble, but with enough of a backbone to make sure they grow up right. 

The police show up in record time, and Damian wonders whether Marinette has Special Privileges that make officers show up more quickly. It would make sense, since she always seems to be getting people out of trouble. Too bad she seems too much on the side of the law to ever become a vigilante. The world could use more people like her, active in helping others.

The four of them are instructed to go the police precinct; the woman says that she’ll take her car, and looks expectantly at her child, thinking that he’ll come with her. Marinette pushes the boy even further out of the woman’s view and meets the lady with a glare. 

“Do you mind if we ride with you in the back, Officer?” 

The three of them pile into the back of the cruiser, and Damian feels like this is some sort of twisted irony. He’s sent many a villain to jail, but he himself has never been in the back of such a police car. In the back of a high security one, once, when he was on an infiltration mission, but the back of such a normal one? Never. It’s an interesting experience to say the least; there’s mesh between the officer and themselves, and no way to get out from the back themselves. It’s also decidedly hot in the back, with plastic seats and no air conditioning. 

Marinette is cooing at the child now, who is gripping her hand only slightly less tightly. “Don’t worry, Renee, we’re going to make sure that you don’t get hit like that again.”

The kid’s eyes are glassy, then he’s all tears, and he’s crying into Marinette’s shirt. She just pats him on the back, slowly, and lets him cry it out. It’s very different from the approach that Batman, the Nightwing, Red Hood and Robin take with their victims. Most times, they just let the victims be ushered wherever the police need then to be, and then, they never see them again. Damian justifies this with the fact that fundamentally vigilantes and regular people are different. It makes sense that Marinette has a more human touch to her. She’s not wearing a bodysuit. It’s all Marinette, and that makes the whole situation more powerful.

It only takes a few more moments for the boy to cry himself to sleep. 

“I want to file with Child Protection Services.” Her voice is soft, low. She speaks carefully so as not to wake the kid up. 

“Yes, we should file with CPS, but if this is just a one time thing there’s not really much that we can do about this.” The officer sounds sad, like he’s dealt with situations like this before.

“As long as we have proof that this isn’t a one time thing, we can make sure that Renee doesn’t go back with her unless he wants to?” There’s a flash of steel determination in Marinette’s eyes, and it almost makes Damian uncomfortable. It’s the look Barbara gets when one of them get really badly injured. 

“Yes, but that kind of proof is hard to get.”

“I see,” she says, like she really does see all of the situation and knows exactly what needs to happen next. She says it like she’s going to make Renee’s mother go to jail if it’s the last thing she does.

They arrive at the precinct, and Marinette carries the boy like its nothing. Damian offers to help, but he’s shaken off. Renee is already asleep in her arms, after all, and she doesn’t want to risk waking him up. She’s sure that he's tired, after all this. It’s a curious thing, how softly and lovingly she looks down at the boy, even though Damian suspects that Marinette has never met the boy in her life before this fiasco.

Their party arrives more quickly than the mother, so they take seats in a small office, Renee still on Marinette’s lap. She’s now scrolling through her phone, assessing whatever’s on her screen with a clinical eye. Damian pulls out his phone as well. To be honest, he’s not quite sure what he’s doing here. He only stepped in at the last second, though he doesn’t have any real complaints about being here. His father would say it’s an experience, and his siblings would joke that he finally ended up in the hands of the police.

When the lady arrives, she looks nothing like that woman he saw on the streets earlier. She looks every inch a professional. Her makeup has been touched up, and there is a smile plastered on her face that screams dealing with an unpleasant situation. 

“I’m so sorry about that,” she says to Marinette like she’s an old friend. “You know how it is-- sometimes it’s really hard to keep a level head with all that goes on in the city. I was so scared for my little boy-- I heard there was an akuma attack near his school, and rushed out to get him, but he wanted to stay with his friends.”

Marinette has a polite smile fixed on her face as well. Her face doesn’t show the slightest bit of reaction to the lady.

“Kids, am I right?” The lady tries for a joke, tries to sway Marinette and the officer and Damian to her side. “So just let me pick up Renee here, and I’ll bring him back home.”

The lady reaches for Renee, and Damian stops her because Marinette has both her hands full with Renee, who has woken up with shuddering sobs. 

“Officer, is it possible if Renee can wait outside of the room while we talk? Surely there’s somebody who can watch him out there.” Her voice is still kept soft and soothing. She looks at Renee and smiles, doesn’t bother looking at the rest of her surroundings. “Is that okay, Renee? Do you mind waiting outside for a little?”

The little boy nods, and he is swept up by some other person who works at the precinct, and then it is only the four of them in the room.

The lady looks frustrated, but she keeps her mouth shut as the officer goes through the proper procedures that they must follow, and that CPS is getting involved. 

“But officer, there’s no need to get CPS involved. I take very good care of my darling Renee. He gets to go to all the classes he could ever want to and I love him very much. I’m so sorry that he got bruised. I’ll make sure that it never happens again.”

Marinette’s hands are carefully laid on her pants. Her fingers are splayed open and the entirety of each palm rests on her thighs. A gesture that makes her look relaxed, were it not for the slight tremble that Damian detects. She is holding her hands in that position so tightly that Damian has good reason to believe that she is withholding herself from hitting the woman. 

“Madame DeVries.” Marinette’s voice is clipped. “CPS must be involved. I insist. It’s very clear to me that this is not the first time that you have hurt Renee, nor will it be the last.”

“How can you say that?” The lady wails. She is an okay actress, but not able to fool any of those present in the room. “I love my darling boy. I would never hit him. Never!”

“Regardless of whether this is the first time you hit him, there are more ways to hurt a person than just physical abuse. Renee’s fear of you makes it clear that you have induced some sort of psychological trauma on him.”

The lady’s face contorts into a sneer when she realizes that nobody in the room is on her side. “You have no evidence. You can’t accuse me like that. I’ll call a lawyer.”

“Go ahead and call a lawyer, Madame. I think that would be for the best. Don’t worry about the evidence. There’s plenty.” She turns to the officer. “Please call someone from CPS here. I don’t want Renee going home with her until the trial is over.”

“You can’t do that to me.” The lady is standing now, towering over Marinette and trying to intimidate her. “I have a reputation to uphold. You will not sue me for child abuse. You cannot.”

“Any parent who truly cares for their child would care more for their child’s well being rather than their own reputation. I wonder what that says about you, Madame. There is no reason why I can’t sue you and too many reasons that I should.”

She lowers herself to Marinette's ear, whispers in soft tones that she’s certain will not be caught by any recording devices. “You will not take me to court, or I’ll make sure that you are blacklisted wherever you want to work. You underestimate how much power I have.”

“Madame, please move away from me. I was only going to attempt to remove Renee from your custody, but please be assured that I will now pursue you for threatening a minor, abusing a child, and whatever other charges that I can come up with. I will refuse to settle. The trial will go public, and the reputation that you care so much about will be ruined, even if you win.”

Celia Devries’ face shifts to an almost cattish grin. It looks like she’s won. “Please, I understand that you’re distressed, but I haven’t threatened you at all.”

Marinette simply pulls her phone out again and plays back a recording of the exact threat that Celia just made to her. 

She splutters. “I never agreed to be recorded! It’s illegal under French code.”

“Madame DeVries, when you come into the precinct, you agree to being recorded. This recording might be from my personal phone, but it is still within legal jurisdiction. In addition, the code is different for gathering evidence against a crime. Everything that is said and done in this office can be disclosed during trial, and there are cameras and voice recorders in here. Please, return to whatever you had to do, and you will be served your court orders soon enough.” Damian is impressed. Has Marinette done this before? She’s too prepared to know this just by spending a few minutes on her phone.

Celia pales, then storms out of the room, frightened that she’ll say something else that will incriminate herself. 

“At least Hawkmoth has already filled his daily quota,” the officer jokes. 

“There’s that much, at least,” Marinette smiles, but there’s something frigid behind it. 

“You’re always getting caught up in something,” Damian says.

“I really am. Some day I’ll become a recluse.”

“And let the world’s horrors move without you?”

Marinette shrugs and all of the tension that was holding in her hands and shoulders dissipates. 

“Since this is a child custody case, it will be the government against Mademoiselle DeVries. The two of you can come to testify, and if there’s any evidence that you have, you can go ahead and give it to me now. If you want to sue her for threatening a minor, you can do that as well; I’ll get you in contact with a lawyer.”

“I don’t have any evidence.” Right now, at least. When Damian goes home, he’ll do a little digging about the woman, see what he can find. 

“I do. I was recording the whole encounter on the street, and I also have several eyewitnesses who have recorded as well. Let me send them to you.” Marinette fiddles with her phone. “And if it’s possible, I think it would be a good thing for Renee to talk to a psychiatrist. In the interim before he goes home, who will he be staying with?”

“He can choose to stay with his next of kin, or can stay in a  temporary foster home.”

“Please email me the date that I should come in to testify, and give me the lawyer’s contact information as well. I’ll email him any additional evidence that I can get.”

“I’d like the email address of the lawyer as well.” Damian might only have a moral conscience because his family beat it into him, but Renee seems like a sweet kid. He’s willing to help.

They’re out of the precinct in another half hour, after Marinette pulls the person from CPS in so they can talk to Renee about what’s going to happen next. The kid takes it surprisingly well, saying that he doesn’t want his mom to get hurt, but that he’s excited to see his Nonna and Nonno again. Marinette tells him that he can contact her any time he wants to talk at her cell phone number, and if he ever wants him to visit, just call.

#

All the buzz of the world seems to die down when they get out of the precinct, and Damian asks whether she’s done this before. 

“I haven’t done anything like this before, but I’ve certainly dreamed of it.” Her eyes look off to a distance. “Abusive parents are the worst.”

“Yours?” Damian can’t imagine this girl’s parents as being abusive, but he should have known better to believe that. Just because someone is stable and competent doesn’t mean that they have a good family-- just look at him and his brothers. They’re competent and stable on good days.

She gasps and looks shocked, verging on offended and embarrassed. “Of course not! My parents are both very sweet people. I love them so much-- I can’t believe I gave you that idea! No, I was talking about a friend’s parent. Anyways, thank you for stepping between me and that woman. You always seem to help me right when I need it.”

Damian doesn’t really think that Marinette needed his help much in any of the situations that he’s seen her. He doesn’t mind the false gratitudes, though it does irk him that he’s never actually helped her. Odd, considering that what little morality he had mostly pertained to life threatening situations, and Marinette’s issues were more in line with everyday annoyances. “And yet you refuse to help me out with Lila.”

Her face immediately sours. “Like I said; class is class. It’s different at Francois Dupont.”

“And why is that?” 

“If you want help catching up or something, I don’t mind helping you outside of class, but you can’t tell anyone. It’s better for you if you’re not seen with me.” Her hand is tight on her purse.

At the risk of feeling like a whiny child, Damian asks again. “But why shouldn’t I be seen with you?”

Marinette sighs, heavily, then looks around at the people on the streets, almost like she’s looking for somebody. “Let’s just say that Lila and I have come to an agreement. The rest of the class isn’t the fondest of me, and if you’re seen talking with me, that will be bad for both of us. I don’t want any problems.”

“Tt. I see.” It seems as though he will also spend some time tonight looking into the history of his class.