#i mean even in the hall he got big cutout

[kesharik]

he`s not doing that

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Garrick and maybe some Christmas time fluff or a little more

Also xaden x rider idea. Their dragons are bonded mates but not super major to the idea of story. Riders allowed to each have one pet if they choose. Reader has a black cat that loves to chase xadens shadows

Christmas lights

"Be ready at six", that's all Garrick had told you as you two passed through one another in the hall. The past couple of weeks had been so extreme. Constant running around. Barely no time for one another. But it was for a good cause. At least you kept on telling that to yourself. Just some days it got harder and harder to believe it. Yes, the revolution was coming around nicely but it had practically made you forget what having a boyfriend felt like.

You had slipped from one of the meetings you were meant to attend to shower, try to at least look somewhat presentable. That turned just into you washing some of the tiredness away from your face. Yet when it came to getting ready all you managed to do was throw your hair up and pull on one of Garrick's hoodies over your body. Now that the weather was finally reaching below zero, you needed these extra layers.

"You ready?", your boyfriend's voice made you jump slightly as you turned to see him leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. "How long have you been here?", you asked, rubbing a hand over your face. "Ever since you decided to have a staring competition with our dresser", he chuckled slightly, pushing away from the frame, "If you just want to lay in bed, you let me know". Yet something in his tone made it obvious clear that he had plans already made. And you too hadn't done anything together in so long... "I can do anything but training right now", you muttered, letting out a satisfied huff as Garrick pulled you into his embrace, his warmth instantly flowing through your body. "No training, no dragon riding, love", Garrick muttered against the crown of your head before kissing it tenderly.

You had forgotten how much you enjoyed the crisp coldness at this time of the year. And within minutes of walking, you already felt more like yourself. Your head felt lighter and having Garrick right by your side without doubt was the biggest plus. But then you had halted. Right as the lower city streets came into view.

"No", you muttered, pulling at Garrick's hand. "Yes, baby, yes indeed". He had a smug smile on his face, that could only mean one thing. "You knew about this?", you breathed out, stepping further into the light-up street. It's been so long since anyone had decorated for Christmas. A thing here or there at home. But the Riorson house had been bland for years but this... "I saw it yesterday on my way back", Garrick breathed out, "And since you needed a little bit of cheering up", his voice trailed off as he pulled you along.

It wasn't how it usually was back when you were children yet it felt even more special somehow. The lights hung all across the street, with dragon-shaped colorful cutouts. The smell of pancakes and hot chocolate all over. "This is so pretty", you breathed out as you tilted your head up to take in an even more pleasant view. And then you felt it. A cold fluff landing on the tip of your nose. "Did you bargain with someone for snow?", you chuckled, looking at the white cotton clouds falling around. "Yeah, Bodhi is on the rooftop running an ice machine", Garrick chuckled with you following right back.

He had managed to find a less busy corner for you to sit in and even if Garrick wasn't big on affection outside your shared room you were nestled right against his chest, with his jacket wrapped around your sides as you sipped on your hot chocolate. Extra cream and sprinkles became only the best for his girl. He of course had none, besides a couple of sips he stole from your cup because he had to be in shape. Which was bullshit because the guy was practically a walking statue of chiseled muscle.

You felt another kiss on your temple as Garrick snuck his arms around your torso. "Are you having fun?", he muttered quietly as if after to disturb a perfect silence. "More than happy", you muttered, "But then I'm always happy when I'm with you". Reaching up you cupped his cheek lovingly. "I feel shit that we have been slipping apart", he breathed out, making your whole body stiffen. "We haven't been slipping apart. We just...", you halted for a moment, "Well, prioritized everything else over us". No way was this both of your fault so the fact that Garrick was out here carrying the blame for it. "And that shit doesn't sit well with me", he nestled his head in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent. "Happens when you're a part of a revolution", you muttered back, turning as much as you could so you could kiss his head. "We need to set up date nights, then I could tell everyone to fuck off", you chuckled at his words, "Xaden and Bodhi would pay to see that". Garrick snickered slightly even if he tried to hide it, "Should mind their business these two", but then within a heartbeat added, "I do owe it to Xaden because he's covering my shift for me now".

You twirled back almost immediately, "You switched duties to go here... with me...", you shouldn't have sounded so surprised. Garrick had already made you his priority but... it had been so long and... "My baby deserved to be the first to experience Christmas joy", he cupped your face lovingly, leaning in to kiss your lips softly. "Plus, he owns me. He has needs when it comes to Violet", "Spare me from the details, love", you breathed out covering his mouth with your palm.

[words-4u]

oscars 2022 - t.c

pairing: timothée chalamet x actress!reader

wc: 1.2k

warning: swearing

a/n: sunday night's oscars was crazyyyy. timothée coming topless... yeah that was everything i ever needed. this is just a little thing that has been being in my head since then, enjoy!

[not my gif!!]

"y/n/n? you ready?" timothée called out as he entered your very messy hotel room. you were getting prepped and ready for the 94th academy awards today and you couldn't be more excited.

it came as such a shock to you when you got your invite to the oscars because you were only in a handful of stuff. you had only recently come on to the scene as an actor and had met timothée in the chemistry read for 'bones & all'. however, your first feature film was with taylor russell in escape room: tournament of champions and both of you were so happy to work together again.

"yeah, come in," you said as you stuck in your diamond earrings.

"fuuuck..."

you turned around to timothée shirtless in a sparkly louis vuitton blazer and a silver necklace going down his chest. "holy shit," you swore back.

timothée had to stand back with a hand covering his mouth as he drank you in. unbeknownst to you, your stylist had chosen a dress that complemented timothée's ensemble. they stuck you in a floor-length black sparkly dress. it had a pretty high thigh slit and a diagonal chest cutout that wrapped around your neck.

you have never felt more pretty than in that moment, seeing the effect that you had on timothée. poor guy couldn't even compose a proper sentence together.

"i don't ev-i mean you're so...wow," he stuttered. this time he approached you and took ahold of your hands. you laughed and spun for him.

"i can't believe you're going topless. that's kinda sexy," you lightly stroked his chest with a finger. you were gonna drag it further before you were interrupted by your agent. it was go time.

"to be continued?" he smirked.

"absolutely."

the carpet went smoothly. this wasn't the first time you and timothée walked a red carpet together but it was your first oscars carpet.

the photographers were eating you two up but there were many times when some of them yelled at you to step aside to get solo pics of timothée which only made him pull you closer to his body. it wasn't until you were further down the carpet that yall separated for all of 20 seconds until his arm found your waist.

entering the building was such as surreal moment. you had always dreamed of getting glammed up and going to this event and here you were now with your favourite person by your side standing in a roomful of legends.

"y/n, you look stunning!" a voice came from behind you.

your mouth dropped as halle bailey approached. "you know who i am?!"

"girl of course, i do! you look amazing," she opened her arms and you gladly went in for that hug.

"that is all you, babe. i mean this colour on you... incredible." you said about her aqua dress.

"i don't know if you've met but halle, timothée," you introduced the two watching as they exchanged pleasantries.

"i have to be seated but we should definitely grab lunch one of these days,"

"omg i'd love that!" you replied. "i got you on ig, i'll dm you."

she hugged you again before flitting off to her seat.

"halle bailey wants to hang out with me, no big deal," you dusted your shoulders.

"oh this is gonna be a long night," he humorously rolled his eyes as he walked you to your table.

this year's hosts were regina hall, wanda sykes and amy shumer and they were doing pretty well but what took you by surprise was regina's bit in the middle of the show. she started off by saying there were missing covid tests from certain people and those people had to redo their tests backstage. she called up bradley cooper, simu liu, tyler perry and the one and only timothée chalamet. with this lineup of men, it was clear to everyone what the nature of this joke would be.

"y/n sweetie, you don't mind if i steal him do you?" regina asked. you laughed and shook your head giving timothée the okay to let go of your hand and go up. "i promise i'll return him... maybe not." she muttered that last part earning another laugh from the crowd.

regina hall continued with her bit once all men, including your man, were on stage. "i don't want any of you to worry, it's gonna be a typical quick covid test. you'll come backstage, take your masks off if you have one, and your clothes and then i'm gonna swab–no it's simple, i'm gonna swab the back of your mouth with my tongue and we're just gonna do some other freaky stuff which i will record for academy protocol really this isn't up to me. you know the truth is we're still in a pandemic..."

you couldn't help but giggle as timothée walked back with the most confused and astonished face. "i have no idea what just happened..." timothée whispered, taking his seat as jason mamoa and josh brolin took the stage.

"oh it's very clear what happened and to be quite honest i am kinda jealous THE regina hall wanted you and not me," you exclaimed.

timothée chuckled at that confession. "well, when i'm doing my covid test back there, i'll tell her all about you."

"that would be greatly appreciated,"

the rest of the night was eventful, to say the least with the whole will smith/chris rock smackdown but the best part of the ceremony for you was when jesscia chastain, your favourite actor and the person you look up to the most in the industry, finally won her academy award. you'd think you were in the movie yourself, the way you cheered and clapped for jessica as she got on stage.

since dune went away with 6 oscars you and timothée were in the mood to celebrate, so it was a quick outfit change and then you were off to the iconic vanity fair after-party.

after being in a dress for 5 plus hours you chose to spend the rest of of the night in a pantsuit attire while timothée chose an all-black leather and denim combo two-piece.

the second you stepped foot in the room, zendaya had grabbed both your hands and dragged you to where she was with hunter schafer and her boyfriend dominic fike.

as timothée and dominic were getting acquainted, hunter had wrapped you in a hug. "y/n, it's so nice to finally meet you! z has gushed about you for so long."

"gushed you say?" as you turn to the woman in question.

"it's deserved, y/n/n. you are a rising star and i can't wait to see you kill in 'bones & all'."

you felt cheeks grow arm at zendaya's praise. "coming from you, it means the world."

after that moment, you, hunter and zendaya slipped into a discussion about the night's events but also audition horror stories. hunter's story was just starting to get interesting but someone decided to interrupt.

"mind if i steal my girl?" timothée asked kindly, appearing next to you in the minicircle you formed with the girls.

xo by beyonce started playing as you two approached the dancefloor. "god, i love this song."

"and i love you," his piercing eyes searched yours as you slowed danced to the chorus.

"oh timmy... i love you too,"

"no seriously, thank you for being here with me tonight. the oscars is always this elite a-list event and having you here... like i wouldn't want to share it with anyone else. you ground me."

there was so much you wanted to say back but couldn't find the words to so you showed him instead. grabbing his neck, you pulled him down to your lips and kissed him softly.

"this night was perfect. you are perfect," you said barely above a whisper.

[lavenderbexlatte]

a handful (or two)

stray kids 3.9k words female reader insert Thick/Chubby!Reader x Lee Felix  EXPLICIT/NSFW

🖤 warnings: DISCUSSIONS OF WEIGHT/BODY IMAGE/INSECURITY, unprotected sex 🖤

connect with me! / masterlist

Sitting at your kitchen table in the early evening, you feel more like a soldier walking into battle than anything else.

You’ve got a list of your body measurements scrawled on a piece of paper beside you, as you scroll through an online shop on your phone. Ruffled blouses, wrap dresses, raw-hemmed jeans, tiered skirts, fitted cardigans. The clothes are cute, and your Likes list has no shortage of garments, but you’ve reached the worst part of clothes shopping:

Finding things that are actually in your size.

Korean online malls are not known for their variety of sizes, even though obviously, the people in any country who need to buy clothes have all different kinds of bodies. The cute clothes, the mainstream ones, the clothes that YouTubers and Instagram models promote, are mostly one-size. And that one size…is small.

Too small for you.

It’s a regular debate that you have with yourself. You shouldn’t even give your patronage to shops like these ones, where you have to filter through every single item and look at the detailed measurements to find the rare pair of pants that you could squeeze into. You shouldn’t play into a system that makes you hate yourself.

But you need new jeans. And in your heart, you want cute jeans from the online mall, like everyone else.

You pull up a pair of jeans in exactly the style that you want and scroll down to the measurements. You have to steel yourself as you look at the numbers.

Waist…hips…thigh…rise…length…

They’re too small.

You pull up another pair, and another, and another. They’re all too small.

“No,” says a small, dark voice in the back of your mind, “You’re just too big.”

You’re so caught up in this game of finding cute things to wear and discovering exactly how much the seller doesn’t want them to fit on people like you, that you don’t even hear your boyfriend until he’s right next to you.

“What are you doing?” comes a deep voice, right in your ear.

You jump in your seat, fumbling your phone for a second and catching it before it falls. Catching your breath, you look up at Felix, stood beside your chair gazing down at you.

“Jesus, when did you get here?” you ask, putting your phone down before anything else happens.

“Just got in,” he answers, nodding toward the door. “I called hello. You didn’t answer.”

Felix has a key to your place, free to come and go as he pleases, so it’s not exactly unusual for him to turn up like this. He’s dressed in a big t-shirt and joggers, practice clothes, obviously fresh from the studio with the rest of the guys.

“I was distracted,” you murmur.

“I guess so,” he grins at you.

You offer a halfhearted smile in return, feeling stupid for your bad mood, caused by something so out of your control. Shopping shouldn’t ruin your day. Felix pulls out your other dining chair to sit across from you at the small dining table, and you can’t help but stare at his body as he settles down. 

He’s so…skinny.

You’re envious. You shouldn’t be, because your body is plenty good enough as it is. But you are. With a body like that, you could wear anything.

“What are you doing?” he asks you.

You hesitate, but Felix pays no mind to your internal struggle, reaching across the table to pick up the scrap of paper covered in your measurements. You want to snatch the paper out of his hands, which is ridiculous. He knows what your body looks like. Seeing the numbers that describe it isn’t going to scare him off.

But still, you feel that sick self-consciousness rising up as he glances over the paper, and sets it back down.

“I’m trying to buy jeans,” you say weakly.

“Trying?” Felix prods.

“Trying and failing.”

You pick up your phone, unlock it, and shove it at him, the screen still open to the last pair of too-small jeans. He peers at the listing, at the chart full of centimeters, and then down at your measurements scrawled out in your handwriting.

“They call that a large?” Felix says, amazed, and you cringe. “It’s like a half-centimeter difference.”

You know he’s just surprised since shopping for women’s clothes isn’t something he does often, and you’re sure he doesn’t know how common this problem is for you. But his words still sting a little.

“Yeah,” you say, “I think I’m done for tonight.”

You try not to let your deep-seated disappointment in the situation, and in yourself, show too much. Felix watches as you stand up and stretch. You can tell he’s thinking hard, can see that he wants to say something. But you really don’t need his commentary on this. You spend enough time thinking about your body, wanting to change your body, hating that you want to change your body…

“Do you want dinner? I went to the store earlier,” you say, determined to change the subject.

“Sure,” Felix agrees easily.

You cross your little kitchen and fling open the cupboard to dig out groceries for your meal. At least this is a task to take your mind off everything.

You don’t even notice as Felix takes the slip of paper from the table and folds it into his pocket.

--------------- Some days later, you all but trip into your bedroom after work, exhausted but hopeful.

Felix’s shoes and jacket were both waiting by the front door when you came in, which means he’s here waiting for you. He was nowhere to be seen in the rest of your small apartment, so that leaves this.

Of course, you’re not disappointed; Felix is lounging on your bed, playing on his phone and looking like the epitome of comfort in lounge pants and messy blonde hair. He smiles like the sunrise when he sees you.

“Hi, angel,” he says, as you drop your bag on the floor.

Instead of replying, you let yourself fall onto the bed beside him, flat on your back, and stretch out your poor sore limbs like a starfish.

“Long day?” he asks.

“The longest,” you agree.

“You’re in luck, though,” he says, “I have a surprise for you.”

You turn your head to look at him. “Really?”

He nods.

“Then gimme!” you quip.

Felix laughs brightly, and unfolds himself to retrieve a small gift bag from the side of the bed, tucked out of view. He hands it to you, and it’s surprisingly heavy and dense for its size. Today isn’t a special day by any means. Just a weekday, a work day, and you wrack your brain to figure out exactly why your boyfriend decided tonight was the night for presents.

“Can I open it?” you ask.

“You’d better,” says Felix, settling back down to watch you.

So you unceremoniously rip out the tissue paper packing, and when you’re met with a small pile of folded fabric, you upend the whole bag onto your bed.

There are four things inside.

A soft, oversized t-shirt, loose and comfortable and your favorite color, to boot.

A pair of thigh-high stockings.

A single thigh garter, in bright white.

And a pair of panties, also white. You unfold the underwear, to reveal a heart-shaped cutout on the back, and at the bottom…

“Crotchless?!” you ask, flustered.

Felix shrugs, his expression mischievous, “I thought they suited you.”

“What’s all this about?” you ask.

“I wanted to prove a point,” he says.

“What point can you prove with lingerie?”

“I’m proving pretty clearly that plenty of stores sell things to your measurements,” he says cheekily, “Just not that one store you were on the other day.”

Oh, my God.

You’re equal parts mortified and absolutely melting with the sweetness at the heart of this gesture. You didn’t realize that he was paying this much attention to you that day. You didn’t realize he knew how frustrated you were, how discouraged.

“They’re pretty,” you admit, turning the panties over in your hands.

“Then try them on for me.”

Felix’s tone is suggestive and low, lower than usual, and you know for certain that he didn’t just buy these things to cheer you up. He’s got an ulterior motive here.

“What’s in it for me?” you tease.

“Dress up for me and find out,” Felix replies.

Never one to turn down the prospect of some fun, you gather up the clothes and dart across the hall into your tiny bathroom. If Felix wants you to dress up for him, you need to do that alone and make a spectacle of it.

You dump the armful of clothing onto the counter. There’s no bra or anything, so you assume that Felix means for you to wear only the t-shirt. And that’s exactly what you do, stripping out of your work clothes and pulling the shirt over your head. You put on the panties, noting exactly how well they fit. The elastic doesn’t dig, and they don’t ride up, just smooth fabric and lace against your skin, hugging the curve of your ass. You try to forget about the opening at the bottom, baring you to the world; you already know Felix fully intends to use it, but you can’t believe he’s done this. It’s bold, even for him.

The thigh-highs come next, and while these also fit more nicely than any pair of tights you’ve ever owned, you have thick thighs, and the soft skin dimples around the top elastic band. You slide the thigh garter onto one leg, settling it at the top of the stocking. It only makes that indent more pronounced, soft flesh giving way under the thick white band. But you try your hardest not to feel self-conscious about it.

Felix picked these things for you. That means he wants to see you like this.

You pluck up all your courage, and walk back into your bedroom. Felix is waiting eagerly, and when you come into view, lingering shyly at the doorway, he smirks. 

Honest-to-God smirks.

“Oh, angel,” he says, his deep voice nearly breaking over the syllables, “Oh, yes.”

You can see plainly on his face how much this little outfit is affecting him, and it sends a little thrill down your spine. Because truly, these clothes aren’t too out of the ordinary. The thigh-highs are new, and the panties aren’t something you would have picked for yourself, but it’s hard not to feel like you’re just wearing…a t-shirt and underwear.

It’s the intimacy, you decide. The fact that Felix carefully chose items in your most precise, comfortable sizes, and built you a sexy little dress-up kit that makes you feel as good as you look…God. Overwhelmingly intimate, you realize, and hot as hell.

“Let me see you, come here and give me a little spin,” Felix teases, twirling his finger in the air to mimic the model turn he’s demanding.

Smiling, squashing down a touch of embarrassment, you comply, coming to stand before Felix and turning around slowly on the spot. You can feel his eyes on you, and as you turn your back on him completely, you hear your bed creak.

Hands land on your waist as Felix pulls you flush against his front, and you can feel how hard he is already, filling out the front of his sweatpants. He’s always eager, always relishes the time you get to spend lost in each other, but he seems especially brazen tonight, as he grinds his clothed cock against your ass and slides his hands under the t-shirt to cup your bare breasts.

“You don’t even know what you do to me,” he murmurs.

You turn around in his arms, letting his hands drop back to your waist. He’s grinning at you with no small amount of lust in his eyes. You’re sure that you look similarly affected; you can already feel wetness gathering between your legs. His undivided attention, especially when you’re dressed up like this just for him, has you going out of your mind with want.

“Then show me,” you say.

He huffs out a laugh before diving in to kiss you, his pouty bow-shaped lips moving against yours roughly. Felix kisses like he’s starving and you’re one of the desserts that he loves to bake, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he stops ravishing you. His hands wander down to your ass, pinching hard enough that you squeak.

“Easy on the goods!” you chastise, as the spot aches deliciously.

Felix just pinches you again, harder, and guides you back toward your bed. You lay back on the mattress with Felix right behind you, settling between your spread legs. He sits back on his heels, just looking down at you beneath him in your skimpy panties and stockings. He runs his hands down your thighs indulgently, sliding a finger under the garter on one side and pulling it back so that it snaps against your skin.

“Angel, I should’ve thought of this a long time ago,” he says.

There’s no time for you to tease him, because Felix pulls his shirt over his head and discards it over the side of the bed, and you’re taken in by his gorgeous lithe body, his tiny waist and the rippling lines of his abs. No matter how many times you see him like this, it’s still exciting, that you can have someone so beautiful. He takes hold of the hem of your t-shirt next, and coaxes you upright so that he can take that off, too.

Your body is the exact opposite of his, soft where his is hard, sloping curves instead of the sharp cut of his ribs and hips and shoulders. But he leans right down over you and begins to kiss and nibble his way down your body, starting at the juncture of your collarbone. He trails his mouth over your chest, down to suck one of your nipples into his mouth. You gasp as he grazes his teeth over the bud, and he laughs gently.

Felix continues his slow ascent as you grasp at the sheets, mouthing over your stomach, soft like the rest of you. His hands hold your legs open wide for him as he moves down your body. He skips over your core entirely, choosing instead to bite sharply into the exposed skin of your upper thigh, above the band of the stockings.

“Lix!” you gasp, unable to help how your hips twitch forward at the sensation of his teeth.

He hums in response, leisurely delving forward to press a single lingering kiss to your folds, on full display in these deceptively pure white panties that hide absolutely nothing.

“Fucking love your legs,” Felix all but growls against the soft skin of your inner thigh, “Fucking love-”

Your hand flies down to grip at Felix’s hair as he bites a second bruise, this one on the tender inside of your leg. He’s never been this singularly-focused before, and you marvel at the way he’s worshipping your thighs, your waist, his hands roaming your ass and tweaking the fabric of the thigh-highs. You’ve always known that Felix liked your body – he’s your fucking boyfriend, after all. But this…

“Felix, I can’t,” you whine, “I need you, I need…”

“Oh, believe me,” Felix says, “I need it more.”

He draws away from you to push and kick his sweats and underwear off, and you watch hungrily as his cock bobs free, painfully hard and already leaking precome.

“You want – like this?” you ask, as Felix drops back on top of you, the head of his cock already nudging up against your pussy.

Felix likes it from behind, likes being able to grab your ass and watch your back arch as he drives into you. He likes you on top, so he can watch you bring yourself to orgasm using him. This is uncommon for you, missionary, you sprawled underneath Felix as he bends your knees up for better access and strokes his fingers down the length of your legs.

He nods, breathless. “Wanna see your face.”

His soft, honest admission makes your heart flutter even as you swear you can feel the arousal thrumming in your veins. You need him, need him so badly you could cry –

With a shift of his hips, Felix lines himself up and pushes into you. He’s agonizingly slow with it, just letting the head split your walls before he drags back out. He’s teasing you, absolutely doing this on purpose, and you can’t handle it. You untangle one hand from the sheets to cling to him, as he just dips the head of his cock in and out of you.

You whimper your frustration, and Felix leans in to kiss your cheeks, your nose, before pushing back in deeper, and deeper again, and finally he’s buried in you to the hilt.

“So gorgeous,” he groans, his deep voice reverbing in his chest, “You’re so good, angel, so good.”

He has one hand gripping your thigh tightly, holding your leg up beside your torso in a position that tests your flexibility more than a little bit. The other hand is digging into the curve of your hip, hard enough that you think there will be bruises.

Felix has those dancers’ hips, and core strength that lets him drive into you like he’s doing now, smooth long strokes that you arch up to meet as well as you can in his grip. He’s holding you at an angle that lets his pelvis grind against your clit every time he bottoms out. It’s not enough stimulation to let you finish, but it’s more than enough to drive you out of your mind.

“Lix, Lix, please,” you beg, not even sure what you’re asking for.

He says something, quiet enough that you can’t really pick it up, and when you move your hand from his dip of his spine to the back of his head, Felix fixes his gaze right on you. He’s still speaking, rambling in his deep voice.  

“-Let a fucking app make you think you’re not perfect cuz their fucking jeans don’t fit you,” he’s saying, “So soft, so pretty, like fuckin’ heaven, look at you.”

You can’t look at yourself all that well, but you can look at Felix, glance down to see the way he’s burying his cock in you again and again, holding himself up to look you in the eye as he fucks you into the mattress.

“Perfect,” he swears, “Taking me like a dream, angel…”

He’s never this vocal, either, and the talk has your head spinning almost as much as the brutal pace he’s maintaining. You can hear the obscene sound of your wetness around him. The desperate, weak first stirrings of an orgasm are starting to creep up on you, but you know yourself. You’re going to need more than this to finish.

Even so, you clench around Felix as he works himself into you again, and again, and he laughs breathlessly at the feeling of it.

“Are you gonna cum for me?” Felix asks, low and sweet.

You shake your head desperately, “Not enough – Lix, please, I need-”

“Not enough?” he echoes, amused, as his hips snap against yours in perfect time, “What, is this not good enough for you, angel?”

“So good, so good, just, please,” you whine.

Felix doesn’t answer you, but he does let go of your leg to bring his fingers up to your face. You’re so far gone, so hazy with lust and the orgasm that’s building but just isn’t close enough, that you barely notice him until his fingers are pressing at your lips.

He has small, beautiful hands, and you open your mouth to let him slip two dainty fingers into your mouth. You suck on the digits, knowing how much Felix likes having your mouth on him, or his on you. He’s not picky, as long as someone is licking, biting, sucking…

“So dirty,” he sighs.

Only for him, you think to yourself. You can’t summon the words to say to him out loud, but you certainly think them. Only for him.

“Don’t hold back on me now, angel,” Felix says.

He retrieves his fingers from your mouth, and snakes his hand down between your bodies to press them feather-light to your clit. You can’t help the gasp that escapes from you as he touches you, gentle and precise. The slide would have been wet and easy enough even without the extra help, but the combination of your saliva and your wetness as it seeps out around Felix’s thick cock makes his fingers glide over your clit with friction so good it’s almost painful.

Under your breath, almost like a prayer, you’re murmuring, chanting, “Please, please, please, please, oh-”

“You first,” he says, “Come on, are you gonna give me one?”

You want to, God, do you want to. You writhe in his hold, torn between rocking away from the steady delicious pressure on your clit and into the press of his cock splitting you open. Felix throws his head back as you tremble around him - your peak is so close you can fucking taste it - and groans.

“Love you,” Felix gasps, “Shit, love you, love your body-”

That’s what does it.

That view, Felix above you, so fucked out, working so hard to make you feel good. Physically and mentally, that’s what he’s trying to do. He saw you being upset for like fifteen minutes the other day and he’s putting in all this effort to build you up. He just wants you to feel good –

“Felix!”

His name passes your lips, just once, before you’re cumming hard with a strangled moan. Felix fucks into you hard once, twice, and then thrusts into you fully with a cry of his own as he cums against your walls. He’s quick to drop down and meet your lips in a messy kiss, pressing your bodies together, skin on skin.

The two of you shudder and murmur your way through your orgasms, as you marvel at how quickly he was able to bring you crashing right over the peak with him.

Once your voice comes back to you, all your can manage is another squeaking, “Felix.”

“Yeah,” he answers, decisive, like you’ve just revealed the secrets of the universe to him. “Yeah.”

He pulls out and gingerly moves off of you, but not without stroking his hands from your waist all the way down your thighs as he goes. You laugh quietly as Felix collapses onto his back beside you, wiping his brow dramatically like he’s just gotten off a hard day at work. His cum begins to drip back out of you as you sit up, which is gross, but you just want to be close to him. You curl against his side, head on his chest, and Felix accommodates you easily, cuddling into you just as eagerly.

As you readjust on the bed, settle into a more comfortable position, you notice the bruises. Tender new bruises on your hip, and along the side of your thigh where Felix had held you so tightly. It’s the perfect shape of his fingertips, fanning out along your skin.

“Jeez,” you murmur, touching the spots and secretly relishing the way they hurt.

“Sorry,” Felix grins, though he doesn’t look very sorry at all. “Just…your thighs. Your body. Love it.”

[vivithefolle]

I was always confused by Hermiones behavior towards Ron in OOTP. Was she trying to hide her feelings? because she didn't really gave him any signs. Why she was so nasty at him with the teaspoon thing. Was she trying to make him jealous with the letters? What did or didn't she understand from Ron giving her the perfume. Is all this just JKR being stupid because she don't want them together before the very end. Sry for all these questions but I am rly confused can you plz help Vivi?

Once again, I’ll copy one of my Quora essays!

it’s a stereotype to say that girls resort to underhanded tactics when it comes to dating, or like to “test” their partner’s love… but it’s a stereotype for a reason: there are teenage girls who resort to those tactics.

The archetype of the Tsundere exists as an exaggeration of the traits some teenage girls demonstrate when they find themselves in a position of vulnerability such as “having a crush on someone”.

For someone as prideful as Hermione is, having a crush on someone is extremely threatening.

Hermione prides herself in her logic and intelligence. The validation she receives from getting good grades is something she needs, because she’s very insecure deep down. She thinks all she has to offer is her intelligence, and as she goes from a little girl to a young woman, this causes her grief because she doesn’t want to be just “intelligent”. As her body develops and changes, she finds that being the smartest one in the room isn’t enough anymore - she still loves being the smartest in the room, but she wants more than just that, she wants validation for other things. That’s why she was extremely hurt when Ron tactlessly (and Rowling-ly) remarks “you’re a girl” - she wants to be seen as a girl, as a woman, as more than a walking brain. She wants validation that she is a girl, and beautiful, and sexy, and capable of making heads spin. She needs “sexual” validation, for lack of a better term.

Of course she doesn’t really realize those feelings. All she knows is that it hurts when Ron seems to consider her “one of the guys”, or looks at girls that aren’t her. She likes it when he compliments her, but she’s also angry at him because he only ever seems to compliment her intelligence and damn it, she wants him to compliment something else! She wants him to look at her, REALLY look at her! Look at her like he looks at the pretty girls!

Little does she know that Ron does look at her, but he probably thinks he’s a pervert for doing so. Because - because she’s Hermione! She’s not like other girls, she’s not - she’s not the kind of girl you ogle! She’s the kind of girl you gift flowers to - roses, they’re her favourite - the kind of girl you have long, meaningful talks with - not sure if they’re always meaningful, but they sure talk a lot together! - she’s the kind of girl you… the kind of girl you love, not the kind of girl you just look at…

*wistful sigh* Mutual pining, mutual admiration, slow burn, +100k words…

But truth is, many people go around saying that Hermione treating Ron harshly and treating pretty much every boy (with exceptions like Draco Malfoy) more gently is because she actually doesn’t like Ron, and likes anyone but Ron.

When the truth actually is that… Hermione is awful. No, no, seriously, when Hermione is in love, she’s terrible. She can be a nice friend but when she’s in love with you she’s horrible. Especially since she’s a teenager.

Hermione is a prime example of a Tsundere.

The cute, blushy, giggling Hermione who flirts with [insert character here] and cries delicately when she’s rejected? Pure fanfiction. Canon Hermione keeps her love aggressively hidden behind countless iron walls, only letting it peek through when she’s absolutely sure the person she likes isn’t looking.

“How was practice?” asked Hermione rather coolly half an hour later, as Harry and Ron climbed through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room. “It was -” Harry began. “Completely lousy,” said Ron in a hollow voice, sinking into a chair beside Hermione. She looked up at Ron and her frostiness seemed to melt. - Order of the Phoenix

Rare footage of the Hermione Granger, scientific name Selfinsertus Overratedus, displaying interest in specimen of mighty fine hunk

Hermione isn’t sweet and tender and kind with the one she loves. At least, the teenage Hermione isn’t. She’s harsh, she’s disdainful and only gives out breadcrumbs of affection once in a while as part of the complicated mind game she’s playing.

You see, Hermione is never going to make the first move. You must be the one to ask her out, because she sure as hell ain’t going to do it for you.

This is due, I think, to the events of Goblet of Fire. Viktor Krum asks her out because Rowling absolutely wants Hermione to be the ugly duckling who transforms into the beautiful swan, so she brings in Cardboard Cutout With No Personality Aside From Being Famous to woo her self-insert.

Now Hermione has gotten the experience of being asked out, and being a rather socially awkward person who also hates being vulnerable - more on that later - well, now she just assumes that if someone asked her out once, then anyone who does like her can do the same.

Which is why she doesn’t realize that Ron is actually aware he loves her. There’s a big comedy of assumptions going on in Romione’s love story.

Hermione believes that Ron either 1) likes her but is oblivious to his own feelings and so she thinks she has to “give him hints” to make him realize it. Emphasized best by this exchange:

Hermione laughed. “Harry you’re worse than Ron [at understanding girls]… well, no, you’re not, “ she sighed, as Ron himself came stumping into the Hall splattered with mud and looking grumpy.

“I’ve sent him so many signals and yet he doesn’t notice. Woe is me!”

2) doesn’t actually likes her, but sees her just as a good mate or worse, as another sister.

Hermione keeps flip-flopping between her two assumptions throughout the series, all because of her biggest assumption: she thinks that if Ron was interested in her, he would ask her out. Because Viktor Krum was interested in her, and he asked her out, so why wouldn’t Ron do the same? They’re both boys and she’s a girl, after all. Isn’t that how it works?

This is also why Hermione’s “““invitation”““ to the Slug Club isn’t even an invitation - really, it’s worse than Ron’s invite to the Yule Ball, at least he was actually offering her to come:

“We’re allowed to bring guests,” said Hermione, […], “and I was going to ask you to come, but […] I won’t bother.”

“I was going to ask you to come but I won’t bother.”

This is literally what she says. It’s more of a “look Ron! An invite! If you’re good maybe I’ll think about letting you have it!” than anything else.

It’s because this is Hermione’s last resort. The ultimate humiliation. She has to resort to inviting Ron when in her mind, he’s supposed to be the one asking her out. He’s the boy! He’s supposed to do it! (And this is why I laugh at all the fools who claim that Hermione is the pinnacle of feminism. Seriously, the girl is more of a misogynist than any other character in the series.)

Hermione failed to take into account that Ron’s insecurity cripples him worse than she imagines, and that he copes with it differently than she copes with her own insecurities.

And this is the part where I explain about Hermione’s hatred of being vulnerable.

You see, I can relate quite a lot to Hermione - I see a lot of me in her, and a lot of people who hurt me in the past as well.

Bullied because she was an easy target, being the know-it-all and local teacher’s pet? Yep. Bullied for her appearance (I got braces when I was 8 and have been wearing glasses since I was a toddler, she had her bushy hair and buck teeth)? Can relate. Cried easily? Super check. Rule enforcer when the teachers weren’t around? Mega check.

And naturally, when you’re such a water fountain as I was, there’s nothing more humiliating than ending up crying in front of your bullies. You quickly learn that it will bring you nothing but more bullying. More humiliation. More vulnerability.

Hence why you start despising any form of vulnerability you find in yourself.

Obviously, being in love? That’s one of the most terrible things you can find yourself in when you’re afraid of being vulnerable. Because, oh god, your feelings are completely insane around the person. They make or ruin your day. You keep wanting to show them how cool / great / impressive you are, and you try desperately to mask all your little faults so they will hopefully return your feelings.

Given that Hermione is already not the most socially-aware battering ram in the knife drawer, she acts especially nasty to Ron, because she’s overcompensating for the vulnerability he makes her feel. And she most likely isn’t even aware of it! Forget Fanfic Hermione cringing as she realizes how mean she sounds, welcome Canon Hermione who just doubles down on a pointless argument just to drive home how totally in control she is and how Ron has absolutely zero effect on her, no siree!

In short: Hermione overthinks. She overthinks everything. She’s overthinking every of Ron’s actions, she’s assuming he’s either out to get her because she assumes he’s perfectly aware of her crush on him and he’s just toying with her (this is the very insecure, pessimistic Hermione speaking), she’s assuming he’s completely oblivious to her feelings and so she uses the ages-old technique of the “subtle hints” to make her feelings known to him (and fails miserably because she doesn’t want to put herself out there too much in case he rejects her, which would be the ultimate humiliation and the worst possible thing to happen to her, in her teenage girl mind), and she’s assuming he’ll never like her the way she likes him, all the while being woefully oblivious to the fact that Ron does want to be with her but she keeps sending him signals that she sees him as a troublesome child rather than a potential partner.

All in all, a teenage Hermione in love is utter torture. She’s her own worst enemy, and it’s only when she decides to let go of it all - of the mind games, of the distancing, of the passive-aggressive; of the overthinking - and just takes a chance that her efforts bear fruit.

There was a clatter as the basilisk fangs cascaded out of Hermione’s arms. Running at Ron, she flung them around his neck and kissed him full on the mouth. Ron threw away the fangs and broomstick he was holding and responded with such enthusiasm that he lifted Hermione off her feet.

(As much as I’m disillusioned with Romione, this kiss is still one of my favourite parts of the series. They mutually sweep each other off their feet for god’s sake, you wish your ship would.)

[kaylaxwrites]

unnamed cryo fic - proposal

instead of working on requests like I should i accidently worked on my super long wip. here, have a sample: 

(bucky barnes x reader where reader is a childhood friend of bucky & steve. this part takes place at the world’s fair scene in catfa.)

You tugged on Bucky’s hand, eyes wide as you took in the marvels surrounding you. You drifted from exhibit to exhibit until you noticed the show starting on the mainstage. “Come on, let’s go! It’s starting!” you called. You grabbed Steve’s hand in your free one and dragged him towards the crowd forming at the edge of the stage. You knew Steve wanted nothing more than to be somewhere else—that somewhere being at a recruitment center—but you wanted to make the most of tonight. Who knew when Bucky would be leaving? You wanted to spend as much time as you could with your boys before the war tore you apart.

You elbowed your way to the front of the crowd, arriving just as Howard Stark stepped onto the stage. “What if I told you,” he began, “that in just a few short years, your automobile won’t even have to touch the ground at all?” You watched eagerly as the wheels were removed from the car and Stark adjusted levers on his stand. “With Stark robotic reversion technology, you’ll be able to do just that.

With the push of the button, the car began levitating. “Holy cow,” you heard Bucky breathe behind you.

The amazement didn’t last for long, however, as the car soon came crashing down. “I did say a few years, didn’t I?” Stark joked.

You turned to Bucky. “That was incredible!” you said. “Steve, can you believe—” When you moved to face Steve, he wasn’t there. You spun around looking for him, but to no avail. “Where did he go?”

Bucky turned, too, hoping his height would give him an advantage to finding your friend. But he stilled when he caught sight of the brightly lit recruitment poster nearby. “I’ll give you one guess,” he sighed, gesturing towards the pointing Uncle Sam.

“Not again,” you groaned. “Well, let’s go see if we can catch him before he does anything stupid.”

You found Steve staring sadly into the recruitment mirror, his face unable to fill the frame of the cutout soldier in front of him. “Steve,” you called softly and he turned at the sound of your voice. He grimaced, looking ever so much like the kid who got caught sticking his hand in the cookie jar. He opened his mouth to defend himself, but before he could speak, Bucky was cutting him off.

“You really going to do this again?” Bucky asked.

“It’s a fair,” Steve answered. “I’m gonna try my luck.”

“As Steve from Ohio? You’ve tried four times—they’re gonna catch you! Or worse, they’ll actually take you.” You watched the argument swell from behind Bucky’s shoulder. The three of you had had this conversation so many times—Steve was never gonna take no for an answer.

“I know you don’t think I can do this.”

“It’s a war, Steve! Not some back alley fight—”

“I know it is. You don’t have to tell me.”

“Why are you so keen to fight? There are so many important jobs.”

Steve scoffed. “What am I gonna do? Collect scrap metal in my little red wagon?”

“Sure! Why not?”

“I’m not gonna sit in a factory, Bucky.”

Bucky sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That’s not what I’m say—”

“Bucky, come on! There are men laying down their lives. I got no right to do any less than them. That’s what you don’t understand. This isn’t about me.”

“Like you’ve got nothing to prove.”

You stepped forward then, knowing this argument changed nothing. “Please just don’t get caught,” you said, wrapping Steve in a hug. “I’m not going to be the one to bail you out of jail.”

“That won’t happen,” Steve said. “Promise.”

You smiled before turning to Bucky. “C’mon, Sarge, you better take me dancing like you promised.”

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back!” Bucky called, walking backwards to keep pace with you.

“How can I?” Steve answered. “You’re taking all the stupid with you!”

Bucky grinned and shook his head, stepping forward to hug Steve. “You’re a punk,” he said.

“Jerk,” Steve answered. “Be careful.” Bucky stepped away and took your hand in his. “Don’t win the war until I get there!” Steve called.

“Wait, what?” you asked. “What does he mean? We’re going to see him tomorrow.”

Bucky dropped your hand in favor of wrapping his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close into his side as the two of you approached the dance hall. “C’mon, I think I hear them playing our song.”

He tried to pull you forward, but you planted your feet. Bucky was not going to brush this one off. “What did Steve mean?” you asked again, fearing you already knew the answer.

“Can we just dance first?” Bucky pleaded. “I had this whole thing planned out—”

“When do you leave?”

Bucky sighed, glancing to the side as he was unable to meet your already tear-filled eyes. “Tomorrow morning. I’m headed for England.”

You didn’t know what to say. The lump in your throat stopped all words in their tracks. You turned away from Bucky, not wanting to even look at him. “I—I’m speechless.” A warm hand landed on your shoulder, but you rolled it off.

“C’mon, Y/N, just let me take you dancing, buy you a few drinks…I had this whole night planned.”

“A whole night just to blindside me that you’re shipping out in less than twelve hours?” you scoffed. “And Steve knew this whole time?”

“It wasn’t all just to tell you I’m shipping out.”

“Oh, yeah? Then what other big news were you going to drop on me…” You whirled to face Bucky, but your anger died out and your voice faltered when you saw what was in his hands.

A ring.

If you were speechless before, you were definitely speechless now. Your throat burned even more from the cries you were trying to keep at bay.

“I had this whole speech worked out, y’know?” he said with a dry laugh. “But you just go shattering every expectation, don’t you?” He paused, trying to form his next words. “I just…I know it’s bad timing. But if I didn’t…if I didn’t do this before I go, I would regret it for the rest of my days. If anything happens…”

“Yes,” you said, nodding your head as tears started to pour down your face.

“You didn’t even let me get down on one knee or ask—”

“I don’t care.” You hooked an elbow around the back of Bucky’s neck and pulled him close, kissing him like your life depended on it. “My answer’s yes.” You pressed your left hand into Bucky’s and he slid the ring home onto your finger. It fit perfectly. Your eyes glistened with tears as you watched the ring catch the light from the flashing neons of the dance hall.

“I love you,” Bucky whispered, pressing light kisses into your temple.

“I love you, too,” you replied before pulling back sharply to look him in the eyes. “I’m still mad at you, though.”

“Doll, c’mon…”

[p-artsypants]

I’ll Handle This (11)

In Which The Metaphorical Crap Hits The Metaphorical Fan

Who authorized this angst in my crack fic?

Ao3 | FF.net

BWAAAAAAAA

BWA-BWAHHHHH

BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

“Where did you get a harmonica?” Adrien whispered.

BWAAAAAAAA

BWA-BWA-WAAAHHHHHH

“Wish I was back in Texas.

The ocean's no place for a squirrel.

Wish I was in Texas,

Prettiest place in the world, oh no.”

“Are you going to answer my question? Or are you going to continue to serenade your cellmates?”

“I guess deep in my heart,

I'll always be a Texas girl.”

“We’re in jail, you know. Maybe that’s not a big deal for you, but it is for me!”

“I wanna go hoooooome, home.”

Adrien scoffed and sunk into the pocket, sulking. Of course, since he was in a Kwami’s body, he was not in jail. He could leave at any time. In fact, he wanted to. Desperately. Jail, cells, bars, they were all part of his greatest nightmare. 

But he stayed with Plagg. 

They hadn’t been given a reason for arrest. Just, slapped with cuffs and hulled out of the Lahiffe household. 

Plagg went quietly. Asking no questions and offering no protests. It was like he knew what was to come. 

Adrien couldn’t fathom the speed at which things happened. 

And where the hell did Plagg get that harmonica?

BWAAHHHHHH

“Alright alright, Mr. Agreste. Enough with the music. Give it here!” An officer approached the bars, hand outstretched. 

“Are you going to tell me what I’m in here for?”

The officer huffed. “We were asked to scare you straight. Your father said you were traveling a road of self-destruction, and thought a night in jail would help clear your mind.” 

“That’s what I thought.” He stepped back, and continued to play his harmonica. 

BWAAAAAAAA

“Hey, I said hand over the harmonica!” 

“If you want it, you have to come get it.” 

“Oh, you don’t want me to, kid. Just make this easy and hand it over.” 

“Do you often arrest kids for no reason?” Plagg asked instead. 

The policeman crossed his arms.  Plagg could read his nameplate, which said Daryl. “I’m not sure what ‘no reason’ is to you...but your father sure gave me an earful of what you’ve been up to. I have a nephew your age. If he was doing the crap you were, I’d hall his ass in here too to straighten him out.” 

“And what, pray tell, did my father say I was doing?” 

“Drugs. For one thing. Running around with some local gangs. Theft. Getting violent. Playing hooky.” 

Plagg groaned. “Man, I hate to say it, but you got played. Sure, if I was doing all that, I wouldn’t blame my father for asking you to scare me straight. But that’s not what happened. Look at me. Do you think I would jeopardize these good looks for some drugs or fights?” 

Officer Daryl pulled a stool over and took a seat. 

“Alright, let’s hear your side of the story, then.” 

“First of all, I should have called you guys on him. He’s a tyrant! He’s the most self-centered, emotionally constipated, jerk-hole in Paris. And we’re French! That’s saying a lot!” 

“Does he physically harm you?” Daryl asked with concern. 

“Well...no. I wouldn’t put it past him, but not yet, at least.” 

“Does he provide a clean, safe environment for you?” 

“Almost too safe...” Plagg muttered. 

“Does he withhold necessities? Such as food, shower, or a bed?” 

“No, he cuts me off socially though. And he neglects my emotional needs. He thinks that because I’m fed and clothed, that’s all I need.” 

“I get it,” the man sighed. “Really, I do. It sucks to have a parent that seems like they don’t care. But I’ve seen mothers smoke crack in front of their malnourished, filthy babies. I arrested a pimp beating up a prostitute in front of her toddler. Your father might not be the best, but he’s far from the worst. And that is not something we can really help with.” 

Plagg took this into consideration and nodded. Police couldn’t really arrest someone for being a sourpuss, right? 

“However, when he comes to pick you up in the morning, we can recommend him to get you both in family therapy. That might be the avenue to take.” He smirked. “So if it wasn’t drugs, what did you do to make your father so upset?” 

“My father is Gabriel Agreste, fashion police. And I wore this out,” he gestured to the kilt he still wore. “Among other hideous outfits, just to get his attention.” 

The man looked extremely disturbed by this. “You’re serious? That’s it?” 

“I mean, I also ran away from home...” 

“Ah, now that is a little bit more of a problem. You’re what, 14?” 

“15.” 

“A minor. Your father does have guardianship over you. This would be grounds for us to bring you home...but I wouldn’t have brought you here.” 

“So you’ll let me go?” 

“I could, but then you could be lying about all this.” 

“What do I have to do to prove I’m not lying? Blood test?” 

“Now hold on, kid. As long as you behave tonight, we’ll put in a good word for you tomorrow. And like I said, we’ll talk to your father about family counseling...and we’ll have a word with him about misusing resources.” 

This was not good enough to Plagg. Because Gabriel was still winning. Slap on the wrist or not, having Adrien spend the night in jail would be seen as a victory in Gabriel’s eyes. Adrien was under control again. 

And that would just not do. 

“You have my word, Daryl, I’ll behave.” He smiled. 

“Glad to hear it. You can hold onto the harmonica, just keep it down.” Daryl scooted the stool back to where he had grabbed it, and walked back from where he came. 

Once the coast was clear, Plagg let Adrien out of his jacket. 

“Okay, phase into the lock and get me out.” 

“What!” Adrien shrieked. “No no no! I’m not busting your butt out of jail! That’s illegal!” 

“So are most of the things I do, but that doesn’t stop me.” 

“You said that there wasn’t a lock in this world that could hold you. I will not be your keyblade.” 

“What?” 

“It’s a video game reference.” 

“Nerd.” Plagg nabbed him out of the air and pulled on his tail. 

“Ow! Hey!” 

“Sit still!” He yanked and twisted and scrunched his tail until it was a crooked pin shape, then he stuck it in the lock, fiddled with it, before the door slid open. 

“Geez, next time I’ll just phase through the lock.” 

“That’s what I thought.” 

Plagg tucked Adrien back into his jacket and closed the cell door behind him. 

“So how are we going to get out? You can’t just walk out the front door.” 

Plagg narrowed his eyes. “Or can I?” 

“It won’t work.” 

“Try me, bitch.” And Plagg walked with deliberate steps towards the front doors, where they had been escorted in. 

Daryl, of course, spotted him. “Ah! Agreste! I don’t know how the hell you got out—“ 

Plagg raised a hand, two fingers together with the thumb out to the side. Then he stated sharply. “Eck thoos yul hikteem!” 

Daryl stopped, blinked once, twice, then said, “oh, Adrien, you’re right. Your father really did do us both a disservice. Come on, I’ll escort you up front. Do you need a ride back to your friend’s house?” 

Adrien’s jaw dropped. It wasn’t supposed to be that easy! 

“No thanks, officer. I think I’ll walk.” 

“Okay kiddo. Let us know if your old man gives you any more problems, okay?” 

“Haha, will do!” 

Once outside, with the doors firmly closed behind them, Adrien emerged. “What was that?” 

“What was what?” 

“That—that spell! Have you always been able to do that?! Do you use it on me?!” 

“Simmer down, buddy.” Plagg patted him on the head. “It was just a...very specific destruction spell.” 

“What did you do?” 

“It’s temporary, really. Nothing to worry about. Back in the old days, people might realize I used the spell on them, but with him...he might just have some doubts about his decision to let me out.” 

“Okay, but what did you do?!” 

“Just a little spell that changed his resolve. Earlier, I convinced him to let me go, but that little barrier of…justice, or honor, or whatever kept him from following through. So I just…removed it.”

“You just…removed it?”

“Yep!”

“How often do you use that?”

“Never, if I can help it. Notice I usually just annoy people to get my way. And using spells with the three conditions is completely counterproductive, by the way. Magic is a tool, not a shortcut. 

“So you can’t use that spell to get my dad to drop whatever wall he has between us?”

“No, because it’s effects are temporary, and we have to convince him to ease up on his own. You see?”

“I think so…so what now?”

Plagg smiled.

—

11:30 pm. The evening bowel movement. Ever since he turned thirty, Gabriel was able to predict and prepare for the movement. But he liked it that way. Everything should be planned out and under control. Something so animalistic as defecating would not interrupt his day. 

Now finished with his business, he came back down and headed to his Atelier, to prepare notes for the company tomorrow morning. 

He walked in, and noticed the lights were off. Odd. Had he shut them off by accident when he left for the bathroom? Had Nathalie shut them off?

He flicked the light on, and the big plush red desk chair behind his desk swung around slowly.

“Well, well, well…If it isn’t the parent of the year.”

Gabriel just gaped in shock. “You-you…how did you get here?! I just talked to—an hour ago! The police! You were in jail!”

“My my, Gabriel. I have never seen you so flustered before.” He shook his head with a chuckle. “Are you ready to call it quits yet? Or are you going to call the police on me again? What little lie will you tell this time? That I was trespassing? After I ran away from home?”

“Now Adrien, this was for your own good!”

“I think we both know this has far passed my own well being, old man.”

Gabriel just continued to stare at him, and Plagg wondered when the anger would burst out. Gabriel was never a level-headed man. So to see him so shocked, almost afraid, was concerning.  

Actually no, it was delightful. 

“You’re obsessed with control. To the point where I look like a cardboard cutout to you, instead of your son. Your son who is a human, with wants and needs and the capacity to make mistakes. But I can love. God, I can love, Gabriel. I want to love you. And my mind tells me I have to, because you’re my father. But your actions, your coldness, your control? That tells me that my love is being wasted. I might as well love my rock wall. It gives me the same amount of affection that you do.” 

Gabriel looked away, brow furrowed in thought. He still didn’t look angry, just confused and unsettled. “I really can’t...” he muttered to himself. 

“I’m sorry, what was that? You really can’t what? Control me? Is that what you were going to say?” 

“In a way...” Gabriel breathed. “Or ‘get you under control’, more specifically. But that’s the same thing, right? I want you to behave...but my way. And...you don’t want to.” 

“And that bugs you. Because all your employees do as you ask. But I’m not an employee. I think you forgot that.” 

“You escaped jail.” 

“I thought we were past that.” 

“Yes. Sorry, you’re right. I’m just...how? I talked to them, they said they were going to hold you until morning.” 

“I told you. There’s not a lock on earth that can hold me.” 

Gabriel collapsed into a chair, pushing his fingers through his hair and mussing it up. “Alright. I’m cornered. What do you want?” 

“A dad.” 

Gabriel frowned. Like the phrase was utter nonsense to him. 

Plagg stood and came closer, and when he spoke, his tone was much softer than it had been. “What’s going on? Why do you always push me away?” 

Gabriel tapped his thumbs together, clearly thinking. 

“I mean,” Plagg continued. “I’m no psychiatrist. If you’d rather us get therapy together, I would be down for that.” 

“Do you trust me?” Gabriel asked instead. 

“I’d like to,” Plagg shrugged. “But you haven’t trusted me enough to trust you back.” 

Gabriel stood. “Then I think it’s about time I let you in on what’s really been happening. It’s...it’s complicated. And I don’t expect you to understand right away. I should have told you sooner, but...I didn’t know how.” He walked over to the painting of Emilie in the style of Klimt. Then he beckoned Plagg closer. 

Plagg stood at his side, and looked at the painting with Gabriel. 

He expected some long winded monologue about love, and soulmates and how much losing a partner can hurt. He expected excuses and blame and guilt. 

He didn’t expect for the floor to move. 

Down. 

Down. 

Down. 

Adrien dared to peek out of the jacket, just to take a glance. 

They reached the bottom. A garden at the end of a bridge. 

Plagg was on edge, but didn’t speak. He just followed Gabriel down the bridge. Up to a tube. 

No, a casket. 

With Adrien’s mother inside. 

Wow. 

So...this was a lot more than he was prepared for. And Gabriel certainly was not a normal, predictable human. 

Gabriel 1. Plagg 0. 

Actually, right now it was more like Gabriel 1, Plagg 89. But who was counting? 

“I...that’s...” the shock was genuine. Adrien never knew what happened to his mom. And the whole time, she was in the basement? 

“She’s in a coma, and can’t wake up. It’s an effect of using the broken peacock miraculous.” 

Oh shit. Oh shit shit shit. This was bad. Really really terribly awfully bad. Edge of a knife, balancing on a thread kind of bad. 

“It is my hope that by obtaining the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculous, I can join them and wish for her to be healed and wake up.” 

Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say it, Gabe! 

“I’ve been trying to do so with the use of the Butterfly Miraculous, as Hawkmoth.” 

Goddamn son of bitch! 

It occurred to Plagg that Adrien would probably not be taking this news quite as calmly as he was. Adrien would be screaming and crying, and begging his father not to do this. But Plagg just stood there, staring at Mrs. Agreste. It was shocking, and heartbreaking, but for Plagg, it was more frustrating and annoying. 

How was he supposed to repair this relationship now? Gabriel certainly didn’t seem remorseful. 

“And now that I’ve told you this…I’d like you to join me. I need your help, Adrien, to bring back your mother.”

And that was the final nail in the coffin. 

“Won’t you say something, son?”

What was there to say? ‘No’? ’Screw you old man’? No…he had to find some way to repair this. 

“How did you find out about the wish?” Plagg asked.

Gabriel opened his lapel, and his kwami emerged. “This is Nooroo, he allows me to transform into Hawkmoth.” 

Plagg turned his slitted eyes onto his estranged brother, only to receive a wide-eyed gasp. Nooroo knew, but continued to stay silent and wait. 

“He told me about the wish. He said it was the only way to save her.”

“The only way he knew of.” Plagg corrected.

Gabriel narrowed his eyes at him. “What—?”

Plagg sighed. “The ultimate wish would, potentially, work, however, balance must always be maintained. If you want to wake her up, someone else would have to take her place. Someone you love. Someone like Adrien.” 

Gabriel took a step back. “Who are you?”

“Ah, finally figured it out, hmm Gabe?”

Gabriel went pale. “Jesus Christ…I asked who you are! Where’s my son?!”

“He’s near. And he’s safe. It took you two weeks to notice that I wasn’t Adrien. Nino and Marinette figured it out way sooner. This possibly could have gone on forever if I hadn’t given myself away.” 

“WHO ARE YOU?!” Gabriel shouted, actually scared. 

Plagg smirked. “Name’s Plagg. The Black Cat Kwami. At your service.” 

“You…how? Why?” 

“The more important question is, do you want to save your family?” 

Gabriel gaped at him, so many questions going through his mind. 

“Keep in mind, the ultimate wish is half of my power. I know how it works. And I think I have an idea to save Emilie without sacrificing Adrien.” 

“Let me see him,” Gabriel begged, his voice full of gravel. “Let me see my son!”

Plagg took Adrien out of his jacket and held him up in his hand. 

Poor Adrien was bawling. He covered his face with his paws to keep from making noise. 

“Adrien…”

“How could you…you know I missed her so much…She was right here the whole time?” He sobbed. “And…and Hawkmoth…you’ve hurt everyone I’ve ever cared about.”

“Now son…”

“No! Shut up!” He wailed. “I agreed to this stupid body swap with Plagg because he promised that he’d get you to love me again…but I don’t know if I could love you. You’re a monster.” 

Gabriel stared, mouth open, fighting for words, willing to protest, but he had nothing. 

Plagg drew Adrien up to his face, holding him close to his cheek. “I’ve got you, buddy. It’s alright.” 

The Butterfly Miraculous burned on his chest, boiling with the despair from his son. Normally, Gabriel would want to capitalize on it…but now, he just wanted to make it go away. 

“What do I need to do to fix this?” He asked. 

“Well, for starters, hand over your Miraculous. And the Peacock, while you’re at it.” 

Adrien watched in amazement as Gabriel willingly handed over both brooches.  

“Okay,” Plagg stated with an exhale, he deposited Adrien’s tiny form into Gabriel’s hand. “Here, talk with your son. Listen to what he has to say. I’m going to take these somewhere safe. And talk to my sources about helping Emilie.” 

Gabriel clenched his eyes shut, like he was trying not to cry. “Had I known saving her would have been this easy, I would have asked for help. I don’t know how but...I would have.”

Adrien didn’t hold back the snark from his voice as he said, “Anything would have been better than terrorizing the entirety of Paris. What will mom think?”

This made Gabriel moan in pain. He hadn’t even considered it.

“How do I get out of here?” Plagg interrupted. 

“Oh uh…the elevator. There’s a button with an up arrow.” 

“Okay, I’ll be back Adrien.” Plagg took quick steps from the room. 

He knew they had to talk. Nothing would be fixed without them having honest communication, but it felt wrong to leave Adrien behind like that. 

Worst case scenario, Adrien could always cataclysm his father. It might permanently get them stuck until Adrien’s body perishes, but…

He left the mansion, making a beeline for Marinette’s house. The bakery was closed, and the lights were off, but Marinette’s lights were still on. 

Thankfully, he had his phone. 

“Hello?” Marinette’s cheerful chirp came from the other side. 

“Hey Marinette, I’m outside.” 

“What? Where?” 

“Not on the balcony, at the front door. I have a present for you.” 

The phone hung up, and he saw a light turn on in the stairwell. Then Marinette stumbled down the stairs and opened the door. “Do you have any idea what time it is? Why didn’t you transform?” 

“Couldn’t. Here,” and he took her hand and slapped the brooches in it.

“I...are these...? Is this a joke?” 

“Nope. Gabriel Agreste is Hawkmoth and he handed these over to me himself.” 

“Gabriel is...?” She clutched her heart. “Adrien...where’s Adrien?” 

“Currently having a heart to heart with his dad.” 

“Yeah, but...isn’t one of the conditions to repair their relationship?” 

“Yep.” 

Tears welled up in her eyes. “And he was really Hawkmoth?” 

“He was trying to get the miraculous to bring his wife back. She’s in a coma in their basement.” 

“Oh my god...” 

“You said it, sister.” 

“Is he okay? Should I go over there?” 

“He’s upset. Obviously. I was hoping Ladybug and the horse miraculous would make an appearance over there. We can take Emilie to the Guardian temple in Tibet. They certainly have a way to wake her up.” 

“Are you sure? Or are you just hoping?” 

“I’m sure. Not the first time a miraculous has broken and hurt someone.” 

“Should I bring the peacock too, then?” 

“Maybe keep it in your compact, just in case.” 

Just then, a chirp came from the ring. 

“Uh, well I’ll be a monkey’s uncle.” 

“What?” 

“A condition was just met.” 

Marinette grabbed his hand and stared at the ring. “What?! How?!” 

He shrugged. 

“Lila must have died.” 

Plagg laughed. “You think that’s more likely?” 

“I’ve seen how stubborn Mr. Agreste can be. There’s no way they’ve reconciled. What was the wording of the condition, exactly?” 

Plagg smirked. “Conveniently, we didn’t have specific wording. The three conditions are ‘return unrequited crush from Ladybug—“

“Which was already requited, so it shouldn’t have even counted.” 

“‘Get rid of Lila permanently,’ and ‘fix the relationship with father’. If you have a leaky pipe, you can replace the whole thing, or you could just throw some duct tape on it. Both would be considered fixes. Maybe they found their duct tape for now.” 

“Perhaps. But I’m not going to stop worrying until I see him myself. Let me pop these in the Miracle Box, and I’ll meet you down in a minute.”

—

Ladybug returned to the mansion with Plagg. He escorted her in, passed the office, down the hidden elevator, and into the garden where he had left Gabriel and Adrien. 

When the door opened, there was laughter. Not manically laughter, like one might think of in a villain's lair, but laughter like someone told a really good joke.

“And then I said, ‘Napoleon may not have designed his coat, but he had a hand in it!’” More laughter. 

Puns. 

They were bonding over effing puns. 

“Adrien?” Ladybug called out carefully, in case he had lost his mind. 

“My lady!” He chirped, and zipped over to her, nuzzling her cheek. 

Ladybug squeezed him carefully in her hands and kissed his little head. “Are you okay? Plagg told me what happened. I’m so sorry, Sunshine.” 

He gave her a little smile, a purr rumbling in his chest. “I’m okay, my lady. Or I will be. My dad apologized, and we talked and...well, put a bandaid on a bullet wound. But it’s a start.” 

“Ladybug?” Gabriel asked softly. “Would you...help my wife?” 

She stepped closer to the coffin, finally seeing Emilie in her coma. She looked like a living doll. Was she even breathing? 

“Plagg says the Guardians in Tibet can help. But I would like my Kwami to take a look first, just to make sure. Are you going to behave?” 

“All I want is my wife back. If your miraculous is the bad way to do it, then I don’t want it. I almost lost Adrien. I don’t want that to happen.” 

It was a good answer. “Spots off.” 

Gabriel gasped when he saw her, and then chuckled. “Of course it would be you, Miss Dupain-Cheng.” 

“What’s so funny?”��

“You know, I tried to akumatize you several times.” 

“Yeah, I remember.” She glared  at him. 

“I thought you would be a perfect akuma. You’re incredibly creative, resourceful, strong-willed, and have a strong sense of justice. I knew that if I could get you, I’d definitely win.” 

She shrugged. “I guess I will take that as a compliment...” 

Tikki flitted over to the casket, followed by Plagg. They observed, and conversed. 

“Do you think it will work?” Asked Adrien. 

“Plagg certainly seemed to think so.” She scratched the back of his head. “You know, your ring went off while Plagg was briefing me. Seems you met another condition.” 

Adrien looked at her with wide eyes. “You serious?” 

“Seems like your bandaid did just enough. Or Lila died.” 

“Lila? Lila Rossi? What does she have to do with this?” Asked Gabriel. 

So they told him the whole story. About how Adrien had lamented to Plagg about his problems, and how Plagg had tricked him. They laid out the conditions and explained that only one remained. 

Getting Lila to leave him alone. 

“Well, for one thing, I can fire her.” Gabriel said simply. “I have no need for a compulsive liar in my employment.” 

Adrien hugged his father’s neck. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou!”

“Of course, I could also set up a restraining order, if you’d like.” 

“That would make things...maybe even more difficult. She would take it as a challenge.” 

“I thought as much. Well, if Emilie is truly going to Tibet, I will go with. And while we’re gone, we’ll think of ways to help with Lila. If you haven’t solved it already. I should probably leave an email for Nathalie so she knows what’s happened.”

“Did she know?” 

“Mayura.” 

“Ah, right.” 

“Oh crap!” Adrien suddenly exclaimed. 

“What?” 

“Nino still thinks I’m in jail!”

[sideofmango]

“Under the Mistletoe”

Pairings: ochako uraraka x fem! reader Pronouns: she/her/hers Warnings: lgbtqia+ reader, light cursing, fluff, Kaminari and Sero playing pranks, Bakugou hitting Kaminari, mentions of KiriBaku, Bakugou being your hype man, gay panic Description: The truth was that you both had crushes on each other, but you were both too afraid to tell the other. With the help of some strategically placed mistletoe, Sero Hanta, and Denki Kaminari, you may no longer be spending the holidays alone. Word Count: 2.2k

“Oh come on Bakugou, don’t be such a little bitch. The party will be fun.” You said nudging your hotheaded best friend at the lunch table. Kaminari’s golden eyes widened as everyone around the table seemed to grow quiet, waiting for Bakugou to blow up at you for calling him a bitch. 

“Shut the fuck up, shitty girl.” He responded, his voice staying even as he chewed his food. The electric blonde blinked, wondering why you got away with calling him a bitch but he couldn’t get away with saying that Bakugou’s hair was the same as Kirishima’s so if Kiri’s hair was shitty then so was his. 

“Yeah! Please Bakugou, the party will be fun!” Mina chimed in, laughing along with you as Bakugou grew annoyed, rolling his crimson orbs before letting out a breath.

“Tch whatever.” Bakugou remarked, everyone’s smiles widened knowing that that meant he would come. 

“Yay!” You happily cheered, patting Bakugou’s hair before you got up to throw your trash away. Once again, everyone was surprised that Bakugou had let you get away with that. Even Todoroki had seen the exchange, automatically thinking that you and Bakugou were in a secret relationship.

That was definitely not true however, the both of you liking someone else, though neither one of you corrected anyone when they shared the same thoughts as Todoroki because that meant something that neither of you were ready to do yet. 

Bakugou grew annoyed at the silence at the table, getting up with his own trash and walking over to the trash can after you. His eyes shifted over to his right, seeing the brown haired girl with big eyes secretly watching you walk by, though not stopping her conversation with Midoriya. 

“Oi Shitty Girl.” Bakugou said, catching you off guard and making you drop the spoon that was in your hand on the floor. You picked up the spoon, calming down before you looked over at the blonde. 

“Did you have to scare me like that Blasty?” You mumbled, putting your spoon in the wash pile. Bakugou simply smirked at you before his eyes shined and you knew he was about to tease you for something.

“Round Face was staring at your ass.” Bakugou told you after making sure that no one was within earshot. Sure he was an asshole, but he wouldn’t out you. You were caught off guard by how nonchalantly he had just said it, choking on the water you had just drank. 

Bakugou rolled his eyes at your antics, harshly patting your back as he grumbled about how annoying and stupid you were under his breath. “She what?” You questioned, your voice just above a whisper from having choked. “You’re lying.”

“Why would I fucking lie to you about that (y/n)? This is why you are a fucking shitty girl.”

“Fuck you too Katsuki.” You stated, but the growing smile on your face gave away your true emotions. “Did it look good?”

“What?” He looked at you questioningly.

“Did my ass look good?” You repeated, raising your eyebrows waiting for his response.

“I don’t fucking know.”

“Ok, Well then look now!” He looked at you as if you had three heads. You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. “Come on Katsuki! It’s important please? I’d tell you if your ass looked good.” You countered.

“I already know my ass is the best.” He shot you a pride filled look as you scoffed. “Fine...it looks nice...I guess.” He added, running a hand through his hair. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? it looks nice I guess. Are you serious?” You scoffed as he did the bare minimum.

“What the fuck did you want me to say?!” He whisper yelled at you as his face scrunched up.

“I don’t know?! That it’s a great ass, that it’s godly, that my skirt looks fucking bomb?!” You whisper yelled back.

“Your fucking ass is godly...is that good enough?” He replied monotonously after your little rant.

“Could you try to sound more enthusiastic next time?” You rolled your (your eye color) eyes as you both decided to walk towards the classroom, needing to have a private conversation away from your friends.

“I’m sorry that I don’t find your ass appealing.” He shot back snottily as you rolled your eyes again with a laugh.

“That’s because the only ass you like is Kirishima’s.” You sang as he quickly slapped a hand over your mouth, shooting you a death glare.

“Could you say that any fucking louder?!” He asked, his eye twitching slightly as he looked around frantically, relaxing when he saw the hallway was clear. 

“Was I wrong?” You asked after licking his hand. 

“I mean...” Bakugou went silent, his cheeks flushing, “It’s a godly ass.”

“Oh my God, shut the fuck up!” You laughed, hitting him over the head as you walked the halls. “Back to business! You need to help me find a way to tell Ochako that I like her, and I’ll help you with Kiri.”

“I don’t need your fucking help.”

“Really? May I remind you that you aren’t necessarily the best when it comes to feelings.”

“Fine.” He finally gave in as you flashed a smile at him again and he scoffed, this time hitting your head. “What’s the plan so far?”

The two of you created a plan that would take place later that night at the party, while Denki, Sero, and Mina came up with a plan of their own to help Kirishima; and at the same time, Momo, Tsuyu, Hagakure, Mina and Midoriya came up with a plan to help Ochako. 

Mina had suggested Ochako ‘accidentally’ matching ugly Christmas sweaters. “What about you dress up as Santa! (y/n)’s sweater is Santa themed so you can match. She already told me about her sweater.”

“Ok.” Ochako agreed, thankful for her friends. She really wanted to confess her feelings for you, but she just didn’t know how.

“Ok! Let’s go shopping then!” Mina said happily, clapping her hands together with a large smile. 

“I heard shopping?” Momo questioned a smile growing on her own face as Ochako and the girls nodded. 

“Wait, Momo why can’t you just make it?”

“Because that’s cheating the system. I take pride in supporting the country’s economy, besides it would devalue the currency.” Momo replied as everyone looked at her blankly.

“That’s very commendable of you Yaoyoruzu!” Iida called out from where he had been walking in the hall as Momo smiled at him as everyone else laughed.

School had ended early that day as the students went to the dorm, setting up for the party they had been planning for for weeks. Denki and Sero were in charge of hanging decorations with Kirishima. Aoyama also helped with decorations, though he mainly just hung glittery paper cutouts around the room, also throwing glitter on the fake tree in the corner of the room. 

Sato, Shoji, and Tokoyami were on baking duty while Todoroki, Bakugou, and Midoriya made food, and for the first time Bakugou didn’t tell Midoriya to die, though the night was still young. 

Mineta had been kicked out from setting up, sent to his room by Iida, after he had tried to hang up scandalously clad women around the room. 

Jirou was on her computer adding to her Spotify playlist for the party. Ojiro and Hagakure were adding more decorations to the tree, Ojiro using his tail to get the star on the top. 

Mina was throwing fake snow on the ground, already having promised Aizawa that she would vacuum it up afterwards. Kouda had been trying to catch the rabbit that Denki had accidentally let out into the dorm common area, and Ochako was in her dorm room trying to figure out if she should wear makeup.

You were busy goofing off with Sero, Denki, and Kirishima, shooting Bakugou a discreet look every so often, usually wiggling your eyebrows and making lewd hand expressions while gesturing to Kirishima. The ash blonde would respond by shoot death glares at you or holding up the knife he was using. 

The set up was done for the most part, everyone heading off to get changed into attire that was more fit for a Christmas party. Though Kaminari and Sero hung back, hanging up two bundles of mistletoe at two different locations in the room, already trying to find a way to get Kirishima and Bakugou under one, before decided they too should change into their own Christmas sweaters.

You had decided to wear black jeans and a navy sweater with red and white trim and a large picture of Santa on the front with the words Ask Your Mom If I’m Real.

Everyone appeared some time later in the common room in different ugly Christmas sweaters, though Denki’s made you laugh as soon as you saw it. 

Denki had chosen a black sweater with green, red, and white trim. On the front was a large picture of Jesus holding a keg and a red solo cup with the words, Party Savior on it. 

Aoyama’s sweater was very Aoyama. He had chosen a black sweater with glittery sparkles throughout the fabric. A large picture of Santa riding a sparkling unicorn floating on a rainbow was on the front. 

Bakugou’s was very Bakugou with a picture of two snowmen battling it out to the death, one stabbing the other with a red and black candy cane. Kirishima’s had a picture of two snowmen hugging and drinking hot chocolate, so they had unknowingly matched. 

Your eyes grew wide when they landed on your crush’s outfit. She had dressed up as Santa Claus, though instead of the usual red suit it was a cute red dress with white fluffy trim all around it. 

The Bakusquad laughed loudly seeing that your sweater matched with Ochako’s outfit, Bakugou savoring the embarrassed expression on your face, his arm leaning against Kirishima’s shoulder without a thought. You wiggled your eyebrows at him as his face quickly flushed as he pulled his arm to his sides, Kirishima smiling widely at Bakugou. 

Your own eyes grew wide as Kirishima took a deep breath before quickly placing his hand into Bakugou’s squeezing it softly as Bakugou flushed and tightened the grip. He shot you a smug look mouthing the words, your turn.

You flipped him off before going to walk into the kitchen to grab a cookie that Bakugou had baked. On your way out of the kitchen Ochako had accidentally bumped into you, Bakugou loudly telling you both to stop.

“What?” You both questioned, following his gaze as he smugly smirked pointing up at the mistletoe hanging over the doorway. Your face immediately grew hot as you looked at the girl dressed up as Santa beside you.

“Do yo-”

“We don’t have to-” You both said at the same time, laughing awkwardly as you stepped closer towards her.

“Do you...do you mind if I-” She struggled to get out, her cheeks flushing an even darker red as her brown eyes searched your face for any sign that you weren’t interested in kissing her.

“You can.” You replied back softly.

“Can you two just fucking kiss already!” Bakugou called out as you quickly turned your head and flashed him your meanest glare.

“Will you shut the fuck up and le-” You started to say but Ochako grabbed your sweater and pulled you closer, your eyes going wide when you felt her soft lips on yours. You closed your eyes after a moment, kissing back before pulling back and biting your lip. She tasted like hot chocolate. A wide smile was on her face as she looked at your shyly.

Your friends were cheering for you in the background, but you didn’t really pay them any attention. “Can I...kiss you again?” You asked softly as she nodded and you kissed her again before the both of you pulled apart and took a seat together with your friends.

“Merry Christmas, (y/n).” She told you, putting her head on your shoulder as you smiled widely, your face growing hot again before you looked down at her.

“It is this year.” You replied back as you both laughed lightly, tuning back into the conversation to hear Kaminari and Sero confessing something.

“Well I mean, it hadn’t been intended for them, but that was cute as fuck. You might as well just call me the Love Expert.” Denki said. “It was originally for you two.” Denki pointed towards Bakugou and Kirishima who were currently sharing a blanket. 

Bakugou’s eyes narrowed before he handed his hot chocolate to Kirishima, jumping up and smacking Denki and Sero in the head. “You two are fucking stupid as hell!” Bakugou said before sitting back down. “You didn’t think I could handle it on my own? It was Ochako and (y/n) that needed more help!”

“Bakugou, you know-”

“Shut up Shitty Girl.” He narrowed his eyes at you warningly as you rolled your eyes deciding to let him live in denial for the time being as you enjoyed cuddling up to Ochako, excited to finally spend the holidays with someone other than yourself and shitty holiday movies. 

tags: I’m thinking of doing a tag list maybe...message me if you’re interested! <3

[mcwriting]

The Marriage Project (6)

Heyyy guys! Sorry this has taken so long to get out. Even though I have a lot of chapters written, I’m in the process of overhauling some later chapters and I’m trying to make sure I don’t conflict anything in these earlier chaps. Also I’ve been sooooo busy :(

Also: if you haven’t seen my recent kim possible au, definitely check it out!

Story Masterlist

Word Count: 2307

Warnings: none that I can think of this chapter

% Approximately the 2nd week of October %

Monday you continued to shut down and deflect dumb rumors about you and Tom. The rumors had exploded over the weekend since some had noticed the way Tom pointed you out before his game and walked with you after.

But it was all innocent, right?

In home ec, you started a sewing project of making a pajama set. 

As always, Mrs. Flynn had tied it into the marriage project, requiring that couples sewed each others’ garments and made the fabrics compliment each other. If everything turned out right, the couples would have to wear them during their final presentations.

You laid on the floor over the fabric you’d chosen as Tom marked your hem length for the pants, the main part of the pattern already cut out.

“This Friday is your last home volleyball game, right?” Tom questioned as he rubbed chalk on the fabric.

“Yeah, I know. Crazy, right? It’s been half of my school life longer than I’ve known you. Just like that, it’ll be pretty much over.”

“Have any big plans for your senior night, then?”

You sat up and got off the fabric so Tom could cut it.

“Well, I’m probably gonna do my hair and makeup since they’ll take pictures before the game, and then after we win I’m going out to dinner with my family. My extended fam is coming to town. If they weren’t gonna be here I’d drive over to the football game.”

You laid out the fabric for Tom’s pants and waited for him to lay on it, preparing to do the same as him.

The football game was against the other public school in your town, which was essentially your biggest rival, and this year it was at their field.

“You won’t get to see me win, princess? That’s just sad. I’ll be at your game for at least the beginning. I just have to be over there an hour and a half before kickoff, but it’s not till 7:30. My mom wants to shoot pics so you’ll probably see her.”

Tom laid down.

“Oh yeah? Based on the football pictures I’ve seen, I’m excited for her volleyball shots. By the way, how did the pictures she took this weekend turn out? I haven’t had real pictures like that taken of me since I was probably 3.”

You leaned forward to mark the fabric, but first had to move Tom’s leg to the right position.

“Haven’t seen them. She never shows me pictures until she’s done editing. I also can’t relate to the other thing. She’s had a camera pointed at all of us since the day we were born. I get it, though, it is her career.”

Tom got up and you both went to sit by the sewing machine you’d set up, pinning the fabric cutouts into individual pant leg tubes.

“Tell her I’ll be her subject matter any time, champ. I actually had a lot of fun doing it.”

“WIll do. And you’re really gonna stick with champ?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Kinda rolls off the tongue.”

By the end of class you’d both finished and tried on the pants, and you were surprised at how well Tom had done on yours.

Wednesday, you made the shirts, which, since they were custom made, fit just about perfectly, too. As per usual, you got an A.

%

Friday morning, you dreaded and looked forward to the afternoon. Like, yeah, you were excited to be recognized for your years of hard work, but you didn’t want it to be over either. 

You looked in the mirror, butterflies in your stomach. 

Since it was chilly, you wore some ripped skinny jeans and a dressy long sleeved top with pink flowers. Your hair was straightened and glittery makeup adorned your face. 

You were interested to see how people would react to the more traditionally “girly” side of you at school.

Even your parents were surprised to see you all dressed up as you said your goodbyes and headed out the door.

In the halls, people pointed and stared, but it wasn’t accusatory like the prior week. Instead, people complimented the look and congratulated you on the upcoming evening.

You walked into calculus, flicking your hair over your shoulder as you sat down next to Tom.

“Wow. Finally decided to go for it, huh?”

“Yeah, well. I thought about our conversation a couple weeks ago and decided to dress for myself. It’s been pretty well received so far.”

“Princess, I’m pretty sure people are gonna like you no matter what you’re wearing.”

You smiled and rolled your eyes, preparing to reply when you were cut off by the bell and the start of announcements.

As your game got closer throughout the day, the pit in your stomach grew deeper. You spent the entire free period talking to coach in her classroom to get your mind off the upcoming game.

“Y/n, I know you’re nervous, but this is going to be the best night of your entire volleyball career. I know you and know that you’re gonna crush it. That whole team looks up to you and Anna. I haven’t seen a pair of such magnetic personalities leading my team in years. I’m proud to call myself your coach.”

You gave a watery smile.

“Thank you, coach. I’ve loved having you mentor me these last four years. I promise I won’t just forget about you after tonight.”

“Well you better not. We still have regionals and state the next two weeks,” she joked. “Now bring it in, kid. I don’t want anyone seeing me be a softie.”

You quickly hugged. Once separating, she took on a serious face.

“Now go run along, eat a snack or whatever it is you do before games,” she said seriously, before cracking one more smile and tossing you a wink.

%

You stood outside the gym nervously, flanked by your parents. 

They were about to walk you out and present you for the final time. 

Anna was walking through the gym now with her parents and siblings as people cheered in the stands, and there were nervous flutters in your stomach.

Finally, someone waved you along. You stepped into the large gym and saw the massive crowd cheering and clapping. All of your friends and family were in the stands.

You also noticed Tom in the crowd. He wasn’t overtly clapping and yelling like everyone else, but he did put up a thumb and shoot you a wink when you made eye contact.

As the announcer listed off things from the senior night sheet you had filled out, you found yourself holding back tears, thinking about all the memories you had of the sport.

A few slipped out and you quickly wiped them away so Nikki could come take a couple pictures of your family.

After the announcer finished up, your parents went to join your extended family in the stands as you warmed up on your home court one last time.

After winning the first two sets, you sat on the bench, ready to win one last one as you noticed Tom slip out the gym, giving one final wave.

You quickly pushed his absence out of your mind however, when you got behind the back line and put an ace down on the first serve.

%

Sam opened his front door for you the next day.

Of course, you had won the night before, shed a few tears, and enjoyed the time with your family, who you’d said bye to before going to the Hollands’.

“Hey, y/n. Good game last night. You and Anna crushed it.”

“Thanks, Sam. Julia was amazing, too. Without her, we’d never have good passes to set and hit.”

Sam agreed and talked to you for a little bit when you thought of something.

“Oh, hey. Where’s your mom? I wanted to talk to her.”

“Um, I think she’s in her office. Let’s go check.”

He led you to a part of the house you’d never been, and sure enough, Nikki was sat in front of a large desktop computer, a picture of you jump serving on the screen.

“That’s an incredible shot!”

She startled a bit and turned her chair to face you.

��Oh! Y/n, you scared me. Come on in! I was just going through the pictures I took at yours and Tom’s games last night. While you’re here, let me show you the ones I took last Saturday.”

She minimized the tab she was working on and pulled up a file, the first picture being a black and white shot of you looking down at a notebook, writing.

“Woah. That’s beautiful,” you breathed, looking at every little detail.

“Thank you, that means a lot. You can scroll through them all, if you like. I’m going to go find Tom, I think I heard him and Harry arguing not too long ago.”

You chuckled as she left, looking at each photo. Some she kept in color and others were in black and white. You stopped on the picture of you and Tom laughing at each other.

Your faces were lit up in genuine happiness, and you felt a pang in your chest as you burned the photo into your memory. You quickly changed it when you heard footsteps approaching.

“Hey, sorry. Harry was being an ass. You like the pictures?”

“Yeah, they’re incredible. I’d love to have some of them.” you said, scrolling through the last few.

“I’ll ask her to put some of those on the flashdrive she’s making you. She was planning on just putting all the pictures from last week to tomorrow on one if you’re good with it.”

“Oh, yeah. No rush. Ready to go upstairs?”

“Yeah, sure,” he replied as you picked up your backpack from the floor and followed him. He continued. “So I hear you guys won last night. Way to end on the best note possible.”

“Yeah, it was a bittersweet night. What about you? I never heard anything about the game.”

“Oh, we won. Not much to it, but it was a tough game.”

Tom closed the door behind him and immediately went to his desk. He pulled out a piece of chocolate and tossed it to you as you sat down.

You worked together for a while, then decided to take a break, just sprawled across the floor on your backs a couple feet apart.

You glanced over at Tom, who was messing around with his necklace.

“Can I ask you something?” you said quietly.

“Hmm?”

“What’s with your necklace? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you take it off.”

Tom was quiet for a few minutes, rolling his plastic ring in his fingers.

“My grandad, my dad’s dad, gave it to me a few years ago before he passed. It’s just a saint’s symbol for protection. It was basically his way of saying he’d always be there for me. He was one of the best people in my life, and I wear it to remember him. It also helps me stay grounded sometimes, when I’m anxious or sad.”

You listened intently and looked at Tom for a while, who was just staring straight at the ceiling. There were tons of questions racing through your head, but you narrowed them down to one.

“Why did you put your, uh, ‘wedding’ ring on there, then? I don’t feel like I deserve to be next to him.”

Tom smiled and let out a breath through his nose, then looked right at you.

“Well I definitely wasn’t going to wear it on my finger. At first, I did it just to piss you off, because I could tell that you didn’t like it. But… I don’t know, I just… kept it as a reminder of everything we’ve been through. We still call each other enemies but honestly, I’ve started to consider you one of my closest friends.”

You scanned his face, grinning slightly. Over the past week and a half his bruises had pretty much faded, a little bit of yellow lingering around his cheek and his lip pink with new skin. 

You noticed his hand close by and laid yours on top of it, stroking your thumb over the tops of his fingers.

“Yeah… yeah,” was all you could manage to whisper out loud. 

After a few moments, Tom flipped his hand, pressing your palms together and curling his fingers around yours. All you could manage to do was stare at each other in silence, unsure of what to think or how to act. 

You were startled out of it when there was a knock at the door. Your hands quickly pulled away from each others’ as the door creaked open and you sat up. It was Nikki.

“Sorry to bug you two, but I was just gonna come ask what time would be good for you tomorrow, y/n? We need enough time to get there and take the sports pictures during the day but I think golden hour would be perfect if you wanted to bring another outfit and take regular pictures.”

“Okay, yeah. Whatever time you think. I’m free all day.”

“Well I was thinking we leave here by two so we get there at three and have plenty of time before it gets fully dark around eight. My parents would love to have you for dinner, too.”

“Sounds good with me. I’ll make sure to pack a dress or something to change into.”

“Alright, well I’ll let you get back to it, just wanted to ask before I forgot again.”

Once she shut the door, you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. You looked to Tom, who seemed just as uncomfortable about everything as you were.

“Okay then, let’s finish up,” you suggested, waking your computer back up.

%

A/N: once again, so sorry it has taken this long to upload ch 6! I’m so excited for y’all to see ch 7 tho like I literally love it. Anyways, I really want to get on a more consistent upload schedule but I also want this story to be the best it can be and school is making that so hard rn

Don’t forget to check out my new work and hopefully I’ll have another one-shot out soon, too!

Send a message or ask if you’d like to be added to my permanent or series tag lists so I can verify you’ve been added!

Story Tag List: @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @l0lmk, @primadonnasdream, @bookworm06, @thenoddingbunny-blog, @agentnataliahofferson, @spider-babe, @stxfxniexreads 

[mikemoon]

( choi yeonjun, cis man ) have you seen MICHAEL “MIKE” MOON ? i heard HE is a COMPUTER SCIENCE MAJOR at SAN VERTO COLLEGE and an EMPLOYEE at HALL OF FILM. they’re 22 years old and they’ve been living in san verto for 6 YEARS. they tend to be CARE-FREE & ADVENTUROUS, but rumor has it they can also be GRUMPY & CLUMSY. [ tally, 25, gmt+4, she/her ] @foolsstarters​

tw // mentions of depression, cheating, divorce, underage drinking and smoking

michael moon, born myungjun moon –– choi yeonjun fc

birthday: september 9, 1998 - 22 yrs old ; virgo

cis man, he/him, bisexual

born and raised in philadelphia, pennsylvania

mike grew up being an only child, and always around the company of his mother in their house. his father was always traveling back and forth from south korea to the states for work. his parents have met at work on one of his father’s trips to the states, and they fell in love. his mother being american-born, she couldn’t really leave philadelphia. she loved it there. so they decided to keep it a long distance relationship.

sometime during those fleeting meetings, she had gotten pregnant with michael. and of course, his father spoiled them both, giving them everything they wanted. he never left them to fend for themselves. when the boy was born, his father named him myungjun, and his mother decided to name him michael for his english name. the nicknames jun, mike, and sometimes junnie were often heard whenever his parents or childhood friends called him.

up until mike was five years old in 2004, he’s lived with his mother, while his father was leaving and coming back for a week or two. but that year, he’s finally moved to the states and stayed with them for longer nights. he even finally married michael’s mother. of course, he still disappeared for a few days or weeks on end for work.

but that was also the year michael’s mother found out that her husband was with another woman. michael has never seen his mother break down like that before. sadly, the young boy was peering into the room when the fight happened and witnessed everything. his mother made her partner choose between the two women, and he eventually told her that he was going to divorce his first wife for her, and appeared to have gone through with his promise. because after that incident, he’s been around more often.

by early 2015, when michael had just turned 16, his mother had gotten a teaching job in ashdown academy, which resulted in their move to san verto, california. meaning, new school and new friends for mike. meanwhile, his dad was still traveling a lot for business and coming back whenever he could.

michael has grown up as a cheerful and energetic child. his friends at any school he went to would tell you how much of a great friend he is, how trustworthy and caring he is. it was so easy for him to make friends anywhere. he was the type of friend who would smile at you and listen to you talk on and on about whatever you liked, and the type who would cheer you on with anything you want to achieve. he wanted everyone to feel included and loved.

so it wasn’t that hard for him to get along with new people once he moved to town. he was a very social person. 

he was also the type of teenager who was out there doing things he wasn’t supposed to. he missed his old friends and his old home, but he wanted to have fun with all the new kids he was befriending. that simply resulted in him going to house parties as an underaged teen to ‘have fun’. his mother didn’t approve of him coming home very late at night, clearly smelling like smoke and alcohol. 

internally he was a depressed mess. of course, no one is completely happy as they grow up. his family was a mess, even if it appeared as fine to everyone else. his family life affected him so much while growing up. mike sometimes could disappear for a few days in his room, and it was always during some of his bad spells.

what made it worse was the day he found out the truth.

it was 2017 when michael walked into his father’s office in their house, looking for him to ask him about something. and instead of finding the man, he found a stack of papers poking from underneath his father’s laptop. upon closer look, they appeared to be divorce papers. michael’s heart sunk, thinking his parents were breaking it off.

michael is a curious kid, he couldn’t help but close the door and read the papers. but what he saw wasn’t his mother’s name, it was another woman. his heart raced, as he put things back where they were and immediately left the room. michael had found out one of his father’s many secrets. he never divorced his first wife all those years ago. he lied and somehow stayed with both women without suspicion... well, until now. clearly the other woman was breaking it off for a reason. 

michael couldn’t help his curiosity. he came back to the room later that night and snapped as many pictures as he could of evidence he could find. he even found his father’s phone (which was easy to figure out the password of) and found a plethora of pictures of the man with a different family, different kids and a different partner. he airdropped the pictures to himself to avoid leaving any traces behind and quickly left again.

a quick search on facebook, and he managed to find the first wife. it was easy with the name and pictures he had. if anything, michael prided himself on being a good internet detective... or stalker. he spent everyday trying to find the rest of the family on the internet. he found the woman’s young daughter on instagram and twitter, along with her older son’s accounts as well. it felt weird. it was a constant “now what?” for michael. he’s found them. what was he going to do now? he couldn’t just message them and tell them everything. and he couldn’t break his mother’s heart by letting her know.

except he had to let her know. he could never live with the fact that he knew his father was betraying her this entire time. and so michael told her everything, and after comforting her all night when she broke down yet again, she immediately ended things and asked for a divorce. now it was just michael and his mother, all alone. and for once, having to get by on their own.

thankfully they were safe, with his mother’s amazing money management skills, and the job she got at the academy, they managed to live their regular lives despite the heavy feeling of a broken family looming around them. the two just wanted to be happy again.

michael spent the next few years trying to lead a normal life. his mental health had gotten worse after everything he’s found out. he went to college, and he continued trying to do well in school. he really wasn’t the best when it came to grades, but he was trying his best.

and truthfully, he couldn’t help but make a few spare accounts on some social medias to follow his father’s other family.

but he eventually decided to just let it go, assuming they definitely knew about his mother and himself, which would explain the first divorce. so he decided to put it in the past and move on.

his mother has moved on as well. she found herself someone who actually cares about her so much (mike’s stupid ass has done a secret background check to make sure this dude wasn’t another cheater lmaoo) and now mike isn’t an only child anymore. it’s been 2 years since his little sister yuna was born, and he loves her so much. he still isn’t used to the idea of a new fatherly figure in his life, but he’s.... getting there. 

little dumb hcs

mike majors in computer science at san verto college, with a concentration in game development and design

hes a lil gamer boy,,, u KNOW he’s that annoying dude with a gamer chair that has a sound system in it khjkh

he posted a few videos on youtube but rly just ditched the channel after like a month. he still posts whenever he feels like it tho and it’s usually just.... messy gaming videos or opinions no one asked for

his dad’s dumb ass still doesn’t know it was mike who exposed him to his mother. he thinks she found the divorce papers on her own. therefore.... mike still gets money from his dad on a monthly basis and gets to keep the car he bought him for his 18th birthday lmaooooo a win 

you probably heard me say this before but.... theres a hc that mike is allergic to eggs. simply bc the idea of him shopping in the vegan section is funny to me 

this boy has a love for frogs ? idk where the obsession came from but you bet you’re gonna see a cute lil frog sticker on everything he owns. he doodles them on everything too ? it’s a habit at this point. he also knows random little facts about them and tells them to anyone who didnt ask for them 

. embarrassing but.. this dude... omg.... a big sana stan.... he has a photocard collection.... he went to a twice concert like 5 times.... dont be surprised if you see a feel special sana photocard in his phonecase.... im embarrassed of him 

he also has a hyunjin mcdonalds hashbrown photocard framed that a friend gave to him for christmas bc.. it’s a rare card,,, and you can see it on a table by the door when you walk into his apartment 😭

mike also has a habit of buying things he doesn’t need ?? he has a plushie collection that has been growing since he was young, and now is getting bigger with the rise of squishmallows

there’s this random hc where he drunk bought a cardboard cutout of john cena ,,,, don’t ask,,, it’s currently guarding his room back at his mom’s house djfhdj

can you tell mike is my most embarrassing , most chaotic character,, 

also he moved out after graduating school and when he started to attend college,,,, gimme some roomies pls

connection ideas ??

michael’s childhood friends; could’ve gone to the same school back in philly before he moved away ?? 

friends he made when he moved to town?? mike is very social and was... kinda popular in school, i’d say. he made friends with basically anyone he found interesting

michael’s ex; they could’ve ended on a bad note, or even on a good one and ended up being friends. im really up for plotting anything.

michael’s best friend; PLEASE i love wholesome best friend plots. it doesn’t matter if they met in san verto or philly

roomies pls !!! i would love it if he could have some roommates who have to deal with his very . peculiar decorating habits 

co workers ?? customers ? regulars ? he works at hall of film ! 

like this to plot or hmu !

[five-rivers]

Glass Beetle

Based on a prompt by 2fruity4u for the Phic Phight! Might be sort of... fragmentary, in parts.

.

Danny frowned at his hand as it flickered in the evening's fading sunlight. He'd been having trouble with his invisibility lately. Nothing so obvious, for the most part, but both Sam and Tucker had noticed him 'blurring' or 'fading' around the edges this past week. He'd been able to correct himself so far, pull himself back into focus, so to speak, but, if that flicker was any sign, this was getting worse, not better.

He wondered if a new power was coming in. Sometimes his other powers acted weird when that happened. He hadn't noticed anything like that, though.

Either way, there wasn't all that much he could do about this. It wasn't as if he could just ask anyone what was wrong with his ghost powers.

Actually, that wasn't quite true. He did have a few ghostly allies. Sadly, they all lived (resided?) in lairs that took hours and hours to get to from the Fenton Portal. Lairs that also moved. He didn't really have the time to go find them.

Honestly, with all the schoolwork that had been heaped on him and his friends, he didn't have time to go do anything that wasn't absolutely necessary. Including sleep. He would give a lot to just be able to go to bed now, rather than whenever he finished his math homework. His extra math homework, assigned in lieu of detention. But, no, Skulker had to show up again, this time with ghostly hunting dogs, and completely waste Danny's afternoon.

But maybe that was the real reason he was having trouble with his invisibility. Exhaustion. And embarrassment. The two seemed to go hand in hand.

Just that week... Ugh, he didn't want to think about it.

He perched in a tree in the park, resting, and, inevitably, thought about it.

He really hated the people at his school sometimes. Dash for dumping glitter all over him and calling him a fairy... as if that insult wasn't so old it was fossilized... all the other people in his class for staring at him... Mrs. Hall for calling him out for 'disturbing the class'... the inevitable interruption of said class by ghosts... the detention... and everyone staring at him and giggling behind their hands.

Not to mention the toilet paper and what Dash and his cronies had done to his locker. Carrying his waterlogged books around and trying to explain to the teachers had been... painful.

In other words, the A-list had been in a bullying mood this week. No wonder he wanted to be invisible.

He sighed and drifted out of the tree. He had his breath back, as much as he had it as a ghost, and it was time to go home and do math.

Of course, to put a cherry on top of this already horrible week, he was immediately shot. He tumbled head over heels, and instinct took over. He went invisible, hard, erasing his light even in the infrared and ultraviolet parts of the spectrum, the chill of the power washing over him. He didn't know what had hit him, after all. A lot of ghost hunters had special goggles for seeing ghosts only transparent in the visible spectrum. Ghosts could often see through invisibility.

He reoriented himself, scanning the area for his attacker, one hand on the thermos.

Valerie. Very confused Valerie, judging by how she was whipping her head back and forth, scanning the ground and the skies.

Danny didn't want to deal with her. He hid himself behind a tree and went human in order to confuse any ectosignature tracing equipment she might have. He never knew what she'd get from Vlad, the jerk, but he probably wouldn't have included anything capable of tracking a half-ghost in human form.

He let out a breath as Valerie flew away. Now it was really time to get home.

He let go of his invisibility.

The cool feeling on his skin didn't go away. He looked down. Still invisible.

He let go of his invisibility.

Still, he only saw a faint outline of his limbs, visible only to his eyes.

Oh, this was going to be bad.

.

Danny had snuck into his house while invisible before, but usually he had a choice about it. He couldn't just walk through the walls, because his parents had coated most of the ground floor with something that blocked phasing a couple months ago (and was also a truly hideous orange), and he couldn't climb through his bedroom window because they had rigged it with a special anti-ghost alarm after noticing an ectoplasm stain on his windowsill.

He decided to go around to the back door, so no one would notice the front door opening and closing on its own. From there, he'd go to the lab and use the portal. Hours of flying and missing his math homework were preferable to being stuck invisible indefinitely. If only his parents had invented something to counteract invisibility... But, no, they were too focused on making things that hurt.

Yeah, maybe he was a bit bitter about that.

Okay, the coast was clear. Good. He padded down the back hall, unwilling to go ghost to fly. The security system was set to ignore him in human form, but sometimes it still picked up his ghost.

He turned the corner into the kitchen and froze as he heard the hateful beep of the Fenton Finder. His father's head snapped up, away from his plate of (unsanctioned by his diet) fudge.

"There is a ghost ten feet in front of you."

Jack leaped from his seat, and slammed the button to activate the Fenton Anti-Creep System. Lights strobed, some of them green with ectoenergy. Danny yelped and dodged a laser, then a laser sword, then a metal-backed cutout of his dad's face.

He ran.

By the time he got out of Fentonworks (the deathtrap) he was out of breath, slightly singed, and definitely bruised. He also felt, weirdly, more invisible.

He frowned. Was he diving deeper into invisibility without realizing it? Why? Because he'd been startled?

He turned to Sam's house.

.

"Okay," said Jazz, over the speaker on Sam's phone, after he had explained his current predicament. "It sounds like a confidence problem. Just, tell yourself you want to be seen- No. You have to want to be seen."

"I do want to be seen," said Danny. "I've been over this with Sam and Tucker. I don't want to be invisible."

"You know that," said Jazz, "but do you feel it?"

"Trust me," said Danny. "I feel it. Can you not get them out of the house for a bit so I can sneak in?"

"Afraid not," said Jazz. "They've put us on lockdown until they find, well, you. Or tomorrow morning."

Danny groaned. He'd already called them to say he was staying over at Tucker's. He'd wondered at the time why they were so happy about that.

.

He hadn't managed even a flicker of visibility by midnight. Even his transformation rings, usually blindingly bright, went unseen. Stuff he picked up turned invisible, too. Anything he wore turned invisible.

Also, the constant invisibility was draining him. Ghost powers took energy, especially when he was in human form. He was exhausted.

Maybe he would spend all his energy and wake up visible. He could hope. In the meantime, he'd sleep in one of the Manson's guest rooms.

.

He did not wake up visible. He woke up just as exhausted and unable to so much as see his own outline anymore. That was new. Before, he'd always been able to see himself while invisible.

He had to ask Sam to call Jazz, because he couldn't hold and see the phone at the same time.

"It should be safe to come home, now," said Jazz. "I turned off the security system, and Mom and Dad are off chasing ectopuses near the mall."

"Oh, good," said Danny, sluggishly transforming. "I'll be there in a few."

He took the same route in as before, but, this time, only Jazz was waiting for him in the kitchen.

Since he was a younger brother, he snuck up on her and poked the back of her neck. She jumped about a foot, and glared at a bit of air several inches above his eyes.

"Danny," she said, "would it kill you to take things seriously for once?"

"It already did," said Danny. "And, honestly, you sort of walked into that one."

Jazz rolled her eyes, and pushed open the door to the lab. "Do you want me to come with you?" she asked. "We can take the Specter Speeder."

"Better not," said Danny. "I should be fine. None of my enemies are going to be able to see me, after all."

"Well," said Jazz, as they stopped in front of the portal. She looked over a foot to his left as she said, "Be safe, Danny."

"I will," he said, and launched himself into the Ghost Zone.

.

"Your sister thought you had a what?" asked Frostbite, amused. He, also, wasn't looking quite where Danny was. In fact, Danny kept having to dodge out of the larger ghost's way.

"A confidence problem," said Danny. His voice sounded weirdly quiet, even to himself, and he wondered if his voice would also be affect by whatever this was.

The large ghost suppressed a toothy smile. "While your current condition may respond to your emotional state, great one, and your powers are linked to your emotions, they are not the cause."

"Then what is?"

"You have a parasite," said Frostbite.

Danny didn't say anything for a moment, half-convinced Frostbite was joking.

"A what?" he squeaked.

"A parasite. Don't be concerned, it is relatively harmless." Frostbite paused. "For ghosts. I have never heard of a human or half-ghost getting one."

That was comforting. Not. "What kind of parasite?" asked Danny. "What does it do? I mean, other than force you to be invisible."

"Well," said Frostbite. He turned to face the dizzying array of screens and other technology embedded in the icy wall of the cave. He brought up a image that made Danny blanch.

"It's that big?" he asked, one hand kneading his stomach, as if he could thereby force the many-legged thing out.

"Yes. Actually, it's a rather small example of this species. This must be its first breeding cycle."

Danny's eye twitched. "Breeding cycle?" he asked, feeling even sicker.

"Yes," said Frostbite. "The malaperas eraro is very sensitive to light during its breeding cycle, but they are also very weak ghosts, unable to become invisible for long periods of time. So they find a host and use their host's abilities. Once the breeding cycle is complete, all of the parasites will leave the host, and symptoms will stop almost immediately."

"And how long does this take, exactly?" asked Danny, voice cracking.

"Ah, it varies, great one," said Frostbite. "From the point that the ghost is unable to become visible, no longer than a week, depending on the strength of the host ghost."

"I can't be invisible for a week!" said Danny, alarmed. "I have school! My parents will notice I'm gone! I'm already exhausted from being invisible for this long. I can't take a week of this!"

"Ah, yes. The fatigue," said Frostbite. His eyes flicked from side to side. "That is, actually, the reason for the variable time. The malaperas eraro cannot finish breeding while the host is awake. It waits for the forced invisibility to drain the host and drop them into a sort of hibernation. It takes longer for stronger ghosts to reach that point."

"Oh," said Danny. "Great."

"We will be more than happy to have you stay with us while you recover. We will provide everything you need, and keep close track of your condition. This is more of an inconvenience to most ghosts than anything else. Similar to, say, the common cold or chicken pox for humans. It is difficult to be reinfected."

That was something, at least. He didn't want to do this again. "You're sure it will be safe for me? I mean, I'm not normal. Maybe we should just... take it out?" He mimed pulling, even though Frostbite couldn't see him.

"That is a matter to consider," agreed Frostbite. "Due to your unique physiology there may be... unforeseen complications. That is another reason for you to stay here, where we can monitor you. If it becomes necessary, we can remove the parasite, but doing so is an invasive and rather dangerous procedure."

Danny briefly considered flying to Clockwork, who could probably do something about the time problem, but exhaustion weighed heavily on his shoulders. "Okay. Fine, I guess. Just- Could you- If it isn't too much- take a message to my sister for me?"

.

The room was cozier and warmer than the norm for the Far Frozen, in deference to Danny's smaller stature and warm-blooded human form. There were also a number of nice, safe nooks and crannies that were attractive from a ghostly perspective, and a large number of paper-wrapped items.

"What?" asked Danny, leaning back into Frosbite's fluffy fur. On the way over, they had come to a compromise regarding how not to run Danny over. It involved Danny holding onto Frostbite (teenage pride required that he refuse Frostbite's offer to carry him) and Danny had enjoyed the contact more than he wanted to admit.

"Ah, gifts from your admirers, great one. We all wish for you to recover swiftly."

"So I don't freeze everyone again and leave quickly?" joked Danny.

Frostbite chuckled. "Nothing like that. We enjoy having you here, great one. It is an honor."

Danny hummed and let Frostbite guide him to the nest-like bed.

.

Danny felt like he was sleepwalking the past couple of... whatevers. Honestly, he didn't know how long he'd been in the Far Frozen anymore. It was all sort of blurring together, and Danny found it difficult to focus on anything.

Frostbite was doing another body-scan on him today, to check where the parasite was and what it was doing. Danny wasn't enthusiastic. The table for the scanner had been built for someone much larger than him and was distinctly uncomfortable.

Right now, Danny was sitting in a chair across the room, a blanket wrapped around him, waiting for Frostbite to wave him over. It was useful, he had found, to announce where he was going to be and then stay there. People wouldn't trip over him as much, if he was where he was expected to be.

"Alright, great one," said Frostbite. "We are ready to take your scan."

"Okay," mumbled Danny. He stood up, walked halfway to the table, and then collapsed under a wave of dizziness and fatigue.

"Great one?"

Danny only managed to make a pathetic sort of mewling sound. His vision was all grey around the edges, but he could still watch Frostbite grope along the floor, searching for him, and hissed when Frostbite bumped into him a little too roughly for comfort.

After that, Frostbite picked him up, and Danny stopped forcing his eyes open.

.

He woke up cocooned in sadly invisible blankets. There were voices. Deep, rhythmic ones. He sighed and tucked his chin down against his chest. He was safe here.

.

He woke up again, hungry and grumbling. He complained until he got food and went back to sleep.

.

When was the last time he opened his eyes? It was dark.

.

"... have finished?" said the voices.

"... reconsider the surgery..."

"... preparations..."

.

Danny woke up.

He could see his nose. Huh. He'd never really noticed how visible his nose was before he'd been stuck invisible. Really. It was right there.

He went back to sleep.

[knifeonmars]

“I let them in and they broke me” The Worldview of Batman: Last Knight on Earth

Batman: Last Knight on Earth, from DC Comics' "mature readers" imprint Black Label, is supposedly the final word on Batman from the team of writer Scott Snyder and artist Greg Capullo, who have worked together on the character in some capacity since 2011's New 52 relaunch. This claim to finality isn't entirely convincing given that Snyder and Capullo's current Death Metal event series is also about a Batman and his friends fighting a bunch of evil Batmen, but for the sake of this examination, I take Last Knight on Earth at its word. As an experience, as a comic, Last Knight on Earth (hereafter LKoE) is really good. Snyder and Capullo are both heavily invested in the character and they're firing on all cylinders here, throwing out off the wall ideas which would never fly in the mainstream DC Universe and giving us lovingly rendered, absolutely beautiful pages of devastation and violence. It's a feast and a thrill ride, but it's also not going to be for everyone because it is deeply, deeply misanthropic in its politics. LKoE, more than anything else, is about disappointment in humanity, but where it goes with that disappointment is fundamentally conservative and nostalgic.

To understand this, it's important to know that Snyder's take on Batman has always been grounded in post-9/11, post-War on Terror urban fears. Batman had long been rooted in the urban fears of the 1980's; crime run amok, overwhelmed and inadequate police, etc, thanks to the influence of Frank Miller, a man who was famously mugged multiple times after moving to New York City and wasn't shy about reflecting that feeling of helplessness and anger in his work. Snyder's Batman, by contrast, was not a terrifying spirit of vengeance, but a shining beacon, a folk hero and aspirational figure, Snyder's Batman is heavily informed by the Obama era. LKoE is about this Obama era optimism, naivete if you like, crashing against the reality of the 2016 election of Donald Trump. It's not subtle in its allegory; the apocalypse of LKoE is set off by Lex Luthor and Superman having a debate about good versus evil and the people of Earth democratically "voting" in favor of evil, then rising up and destroying the world. They even come into the halls of power, or rather JLA HQ, the Hall of Justice, and destroy the very people who tried to protect them. The horror at the heart of the book isn't Trump, it's the idea that people are horrible, stupid, and selfish.

It's unrepentant in this misanthropy, but also noncommittal. For a book about how bad ordinary people can be, there are shockingly few of them in this book. There's no Carrie Kelly, no Harper Row (Snyder's own creation, who even he has evidently forgotten about) in this book, no one to push back against the idea that people in general are bad. There is no mention, no glimpse of those who didn't want this, who "voted" for goodness, the election condemns them all, renders humanity as a whole into a monolith of ravenous, mindless evil. The closest we get to confronting this monolith is the Slingers, ordinary humans who tried to use Green Lantern rings, and because they lacked the will to control them properly, have become giant, mindless, evil, energy babies. It's an evocative and amusing image, but the politics of it are distasteful: "This is you." says LKoE, a big baby, totally unprepared for a power which should only be placed in the hands of the chosen elite. One (1) single ordinary person gets to speak in this book; a toe-headed little boy who talks to Batman for just over a page, little more than a cardboard cutout, that's it. For a book that's about humanity's evil, LKoE is completely unwilling to look that evil in the eye.

The final enemy that Batman must confront isn't a Trump analog, it's not even humanity's selfishness as a whole, it's Omega, and who is Omega? Batman, but broken. Omega is the original Bruce Wayne, tortured and mutilated in the aftermath of the "election" as humanity descended into an orgy of self-destruction and violence, now having pieced himself back together as a totalitarian, mind-controlling villain who wants to protect humanity from itself. He could, charitably, read as the rise of fascism in light of chaos, the fear of the guy who comes after Trump, the cleaner, more articulate monster who can really get things done (though such a fear already seems outdated given Trump's efficacy in perpetrating horrors),  but I think that misses that mark. Omega is Batman as a blackpilled doomer, someone who has looked into the face of what humanity is capable of and given form to his misanthropy. Our Batman, the hero of the story, is a clone of this fallen Batman, with matching memories that stop just short of the "election" and his fall from grace. He's the same guy in every way that matters, the only difference is that he was never traumatized, he never really reckoned with what humanity was capable of: he was never a victim. Our Batman is a hero because of his ignorance, because he's been allowed to forget, and in doing so his underlying assumptions about the world have never been challenged. LKoE is a book in which even the Joker can earn redemption and a place in the extended Bat-family, but Omega has to die by the hand of our shiny, unblemished Batman so that the future can live. And what is that future? It's more of the same.

LKoE ends with an almost sickly sweet scene that looks a lot like hope: the heroes all hug each other and strike a group pose looking hopefully at nothing in particular, Batman holds a baby version of Superman and resolves to raise him and bring hope back into the world, but none of it really means anything. It's more of the same, the same people doing the same things, led by a man whose defining virtue is his ignorance of the past, a group of insular elites watching over a people they both hate and fear, doing nothing to make people better beyond hoping, vaguely, that they won't make the same mistakes again. There is no passing of the torch, no new Batman for a new era, it is pointedly, specifically, the same old Batman. LKoE is a comic that's ultimately about staying the course, doing the same thing despite knowing that it means nothing, acknowledging a fundamental contempt for the unwashed masses but not actually doing anything about it because hey, it's not like you got hurt. The bad guy is the one who won't let go of the past, who points at what people are capable of and demands change, and he can't be allowed to exist if we're to get back to doing things the old-fashioned way. 

Last Knight on Earth is motivated by the birth of the Trump era, and arrives as it nears a potential finish, but it doesn't point towards anything new, it just wants to go back to the way things were, even in the face of an unshakable hatred of people and a certainty that they are not to be trusted, that they need their betters to guide them. I don't want to be so thuddingly simplistic as to label what these means politically, but laid out like this it's clear. The ideology of Snyder and Capullo's Batman is born of the Obama era, warts and all, and cannot survive the Trump era, but the solution Last Knight on Earth offers is not to change and evolve once more, but to forget, to fall back. That doesn't work, it can't work, whether it's a comic book or the real world, history only ever goes one way.

[vivithefolle]

I love your analysis about the Cho/Ron interaction, but I'm just curious as to how Harmionie shipping Quorans would respond to it if you post it there. Knowing them, they'd probably see it as more proof that Harmony works because "Look! Hermione doesn't care when Harry is tactless but she can't stop nagging Ron when he is tactless!" 🤣 Seriously, though. Hermione is WAY nicer to Harry than she is to Ron. Come to think of it, Hermione is nicer to most people than she is to Ron.

Aaaah, well that’s simply because Hermione is… awful.No, no, seriously, when Hermione is in love, she’s terrible. She can be a nice friend but when she’s in love with you she’s horrible. Especially since she’s a teenager.

Hermione is a prime example of a Tsundere.

The cute, blushy, giggling Hermione who flirts with [insert character here] and cries delicately when she’s rejected? Pure fanfiction. Canon Hermione keeps her love aggressively hidden behind countless iron walls, only letting it peek through when she’s absolutely sure the person she likes isn’t looking.

“How was practice?” asked Hermione rather coolly half an hour later, as Harry and Ron climbed through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room.“It was -” Harry began. “Completely lousy,” said Ron in a hollow voice, sinking into a chair beside Hermione. She looked up at Ron and her frostiness seemed to melt. - Order of the Phoenix

Rare footage of the Hermione Granger, scientific name Selfinsertus Overratedus, displaying interest in specimen of mighty fine hunk

Hermione isn’t sweet and tender and kind with the one she loves. At least, the teenage Hermione isn’t. She’s harsh, she’s disdainful and only gives out breadcrumbs of affection once in a while as part of the complicated mind game she’s playing.

You see, Hermione is never going to make the first move. You must be the one to ask her out, because she sure as hell ain’t going to do it for you.

This is due, I think, to the events of Goblet of Fire. Viktor Krum asks her out because Rowling absolutely wants Hermione to be the ugly duckling who transforms into the beautiful swan, so she brings in Cardboard Cutout With No Personality Aside From Being Famous to woo her self-insert.

Now Hermione has gotten the experience of being asked out, and being a rather socially awkward person who also hates being vulnerable - more on that later - well, now she just assumes that if someone asked her out once, then anyone who does like her can do the same.

Which is why she doesn’t realize that Ron is actually aware he loves her. There’s a big comedy of assumptions going on in Romione’s love story.

Hermione believes that Ron either 1) likes her but is oblivious to his own feelings and so she thinks she has to “give him hints” to make him realize it. Emphasized best by this exchange:

Hermione laughed.“Harry you’re worse than Ron… well, no, you’re not, “ she sighed, as Ron himself came stumping into the Hall splattered with mud and looking grumpy. “Look - you upset Cho when you said you were going to meet me, so she tried to make you jealous. It was her way of trying to find out how much you liked her.”“Is that what she was doing?” said Harry, as Ron dropped on to the bench opposite them and pulled every dish within reach towards him. “Well, wouldn’t it have been easier if she’d just asked me whether I liked her better than you?”“Girls don’t often ask questions like that,” said Hermione.

“I’ve sent him so many signals and yet he doesn’t notice. Woe is me!”

2) doesn’t actually likes her, but sees her just as a good mate or worse, as another sister.

Hermione keeps flip-flopping between her two assumptions throughout the series, all because of her biggest assumption: she thinks that if Ron was interested in her, he would ask her out. Because Viktor Krum was interested in her, and he asked her out, so why wouldn’t Ron do the same? They’re both boys and she’s a girl, after all. Isn’t that how it works?

This is also why Hermione’s “““invitation”““ to the Slug Club isn’t even an invitation - really, it’s worse than Ron’s invite to the Yule Ball, at least he was actually offering her to come:

“We’re allowed to bring guests,” said Hermione, […], “and I was going to ask you to come, but […] I won’t bother.”

“I was going to ask you to come but I won’t bother.”

This is literally what she said. It’s more of a “look Ron! An invite! If you’re good maybe I’ll think about letting you have it!” than anything else.

It’s because this is Hermione’s last resort. The ultimate humiliation. She has to resort to inviting Ron when in her mind, he’s supposed to be the one asking her out. He’s the boy! He’s supposed to do it!(And this is why I laugh at all the fools who claim that Hermione is the pinnacle of feminism. Seriously, the girl is more of a misogynist than any other character in the series.)

Hermione failed to take into account that Ron’s insecurity cripples him worse than she imagines, and that he copes with it differently than she copes with her own insecurities.

And this is the part where I explain about Hermione’s hatred of being vulnerable.

You see, I can relate quite a lot to Hermione - I see a lot of me in her, and a lot of people who hurt me in the past as well.

Bullied because she was an easy target, being the know-it-all and local teacher’s pet? Yep. Bullied for her appearance (I got braces when I was 8 and have been wearing glasses since I was a toddler, she had her bushy hair and buck teeth)? Can relate. Cried easily? Super check. Rule enforcer when the teachers weren’t around? Mega check.

And naturally, when you’re such a water fountain as I was, there’s nothing more humiliating than ending up crying in front of your bullies. You quickly learn that it will bring you nothing but more bullying. More humiliation. More vulnerability.

Hence why you start despising any form of vulnerability you find in yourself.

Obviously, being in love? That’s one of the most terrible things you can find yourself in when you’re afraid of being vulnerable. Because, oh god, your feelings are completely insane around the person. They make or ruin your day. You keep wanting to show them how cool / great / impressive you are, and you try desperately to mask all your little faults so they will hopefully return your feelings.

Given that Hermione is already not the most socially-aware battering ram in the knife drawer, she acts especially nasty to Ron, because she’s overcompensating for the vulnerability he makes her feel. And she most likely isn’t even aware of it! Forget Fanfic Hermione cringing as she realizes how mean she sounds, welcome Canon Hermione who just doubles down on a pointless argument just to drive home how totally in control she is and how Ron has absolutely zero effect on her, no siree!

In short: Hermione overthinks. She overthinks everything. She’s overthinking every of Ron’s actions, she’s assuming he’s either out to get her because she assumes he’s perfectly aware of her crush on him and he’s just toying with her (this is the very insecure, pessimistic Hermione speaking), she’s assuming he’s completely oblivious to her feelings and so she uses the ages-old technique of the “subtle hints” to make her feelings known to him (and fails miserably because she doesn’t want to put herself out there too much in case he rejects her, which would be the ultimate humiliation and the worst possible thing to happen to her, in her teenage girl mind), and she’s assuming he’ll never like her the way she likes him, all the while being woefully oblivious to the fact that Ron does want to be with her but she keeps sending him signals that she sees him as a troublesome child rather than a potential partner.

All in all, a teenage Hermione in love is utter torture. She’s her own worst enemy, and it’s only when she decides to let go of it all - of the mind games, of the distancing, of the passive-aggressive; of the overthinking - and just takes a chance that her efforts bear fruit.

There was a clatter as the basilisk fangs cascaded out of Hermione’s arms. Running at Ron, she flung them around his neck and kissed him full on the mouth. Ron threw away the fangs and broomstick he was holding and responded with such enthusiasm that he lifted Hermione off her feet.

(As much as I’m disillusioned with Romione, this kiss is still one of my favourite parts of the series. They mutually sweep each other off their feet for god’s sake, you wish your ship would.)

[howrry]

when you need me

a/n: here’s that slowburn i mentioned. there WILL be a part 2 so don’t hound me on it!!!! i promise she’s coming!! enjoy :~)

w/c: 5.1k

warnings: sfw! brief mentions of violence

***

Harry and Y/N were friends for exactly one summer.

Y/N and her family moved in next door to Harry when she was seven, and her parents were delighted to find out that the boy was the same age as their daughter. Sure, at the time of the move, Y/N wasn’t intensely attached to any of her old friends or her old home or her old school, but it was good to have someone to ease her into the new life.

The two clicked immediately. They played every day that summer, either swimming or playing cops and robbers or drawing on sidewalks with chalk. They rode bikes around the neighborhood, and shot basketballs in the hoop that belonged to the teenager down the street, and explored the small forest behind their home for squirrels. He taught her cool card tricks and she taught him how to make perfect chocolate milk without using an overwhelming amount of chocolate sauce.

It was a match made in heaven—up until a few days before the beginning of classes, the last time they would've openly called the other a "friend". It wasn't that when the summer ended, they'd had some big fight or randomly stopped talking to each other; it just... wouldn't have been logical to remain associated once the school year picked up.

They’d been playing in a sandbox at the local park that day. Sure, they were a little old to be playing in a sandbox, but the only people there were a family occupying their usual spots on the swing set. Harry dug around in the sand forming both holes and piles around him while Y/N drew pictures with a stick.

“Look what I found!” he yelled, holding up a little earwig he’d dug out from the sand. He waved it in her face, to her disgust.

“Gross, Haz.” She backed up and almost stumbled back out of the sandbox.

Harry laughed and tossed it back into the sand, where it burrowed itself. “You’re such a girl sometimes.”

“Because I don’t want you shoving bugs in my face?”

“Tommy and James like bugs. They think they’re cool.” His gaze dropped down to the sand where he began to mimic her drawing.

Y/N paused for a second. “Well I’m not Tommy and James, am I?”

Harry narrowed his eyes at her. “So… you don’t want to be friends with them when we go back to school?”

“Not really. I don’t like bugs. I like…” She scanned around the park. “Flowers. And art!”

He laughed. “I guess we’re just different people at school. What are we gonna do?”

She thought it over but didn’t answer. “It’s getting late. Let’s start walking home.”

The two strolled back to their homes, kicking rocks and not saying much. Once they’d reached their front lawns and the street lights flicked on, she broke the silence.

“Just because we can’t be friends doesn’t mean we can’t say hi.” Such a simple conclusion. “And we’re pretty helpful to each other.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I taught you how to shuffle cards.”

“Exactly. Let’s make an agreement.” Y/N had been watching some Law and Order episodes when her parents weren’t around. They mostly bored her (since she was far too young to understand what was going on) but the legal parts of the show enticed her. “Let’s just be there for each other when we need it.”

“Like when we’re in trouble?” he asked, brows furrowing.

She giggled. “Yeah. But just in general too. If one of us needs help, the other will do what they can.”

Harry nodded, staring past her. “Sounds fair. Shake on it?”

The two shook hands and went inside their homes, with no idea what can of worms they’d just opened. ***

The first time the pact is utilized, it's for a jar of dewberry jelly.

The school year had arrived, and Harry and Y/N had almost no contact other than a brief ‘hello’ whenever the two ran into each other during the day. He hung out with Tommy and James who laughed too loud in class and threw dodgeballs really hard in Phys Ed. She made new friends with girls in art class who put stickers on their binders and gushed about fashion. Their agreement went unused for a very long time—two years to be exact, but it’s not like a child is gonna find themselves in deep trouble at every turn.

Y/N's parents were still in bed asleep one Saturday morning and she really wanted some toast. It was quite an easy breakfast to make for a 9-year-old by herself, up until she went to open the jar. Nothing. Not even a budge. It was almost ridiculous how much she was struggling to open the stupid lid. She even tried going on Google for tricks on how to open a jar: tapping the lid with a knife, running it under hot water, using duct tape, etc. No dice.

The idea of waking up one of her parents for help flashed over her mind, but stirring them before noon after a whole week of hard work just seemed evil. She had no other option but to ask Harry for help.

She grabbed the jar and ran next door, using the knocker to alert them of her presence. Gemma opened the door, one headphone in her ear and the other dangling. She scanned Y/N, and before the younger girl could even open her mouth, Gemma turned around.

"Harry, your friend is here!" she called and drifted back in without inviting her in. Fortunately, he appeared in the doorway before Y/N could realize how awkward the situation felt.

"Oh, hey, what's up?" he asked. Instead of answering his question, Y/N just shoved the jar into his hands.

"Please help me! I just wanted some toast but the jelly doesn't want to get eaten!" she whined, crossing her arms in a huff.

He inspected the jar a bit before laughing and popping open the lid with ease. When he handed back the jelly, their fingertips brushed together but he pretended not to notice. "Enjoy your toast."

"Thank you!" And she went off with her opened jar, skipping back to her house.

***

The second time, he needs her.

It's been two or three years since the jar fiasco, and Y/N had started to get an inkling that she wouldn't be seeing much of Harry anymore. If he could go so long without needing her or even acknowledging her in the hall, maybe that was the end of the two of them. The long amount of time without H had somewhat given her closure anyways.

Her mother had already gone to bed and she should have as well, but late-night reruns of Full House were so much more appealing than sleep. Y/N could feel her eyelids get heavier and heavier and she almost drifted off right there on the couch before there was a tap on the living room window looking out into her backyard.

She nearly jumped out of her skin, but when her eyes adjusted and she realized it was just Harry, her shoulders relaxed. As quietly as she could, she opened the back door and guided him inside, holding a finger to her lips so that he’d remain silent. Y/N took him to the dining room, an area far from her parents’ room so that they could talk freely.

“What’s wrong?” she finally asked, eyeing the backpack draped over his shoulder.

“Mrs. Williams is gonna fail me if I don’t get this project done,” he breathed, setting the bag on the table. “It’s a collage piece, and I’ve tried to do it m’self three times now and I ruin it every time. You’re an art genius, can y’help me?”

She smiled at being called an art genius. Sure, Mrs. Williams gave her an A on every piece and she even won an award at the local art competition for her stop-motion movie on a butterfly hatching, but she wasn’t Van Gogh. Still the compliment rang in her ears and the pact itched at the back of her mind. “Of course.”

It was a simple assignment, using magazine clippings to make a collage about anything they wanted, and Harry picked football. He pulled out several magazines, most of which had been cut out of already (presumably for his first three attempts) but there was still enough left to make a coherent project.

As Y/N got to work, he stared at her. “You’re not using enough glue,” he noted as she arranged David Beckham in the center of the cardstock.

“Who’s the art expert, again?” she snapped. The cutout stuck perfectly and he hummed in deflation. “I see why your first three projects didn’t work,” she joked, making a little smile appear on his lips.

As Y/N finished up the cutting, the two of them could no longer contain their yawns and Harry began rubbing at his eyes with his fists. "Do you ever think that we shouldn't be this tired, at this age?" she asked, breaking the heavy silence lingering over the dining room.

Harry unceremoniously dropped his chin into his palms, watching her work. "I think we'll be thinking that for the rest of our lives."

***

Y/N hated being late.

First there was the issue of wasting other people’s time, then there was the whole show about feeling awkward when you did arrive. This was all her history teacher’s fault—he was so freakin’ deaf he didn’t hear the warning bell and griped at the students who tried to pack their bags or leave. Once he’d realized what time it was he griped even more about how nobody told him it was time to go (they did; he just didn’t hear).

So, she somehow had to make a five minute journey across her campus in negative two minutes. Easy peasy. Y/N had no other option but to book it, until she unfortunately ran smack into Cara, one of the mean girls in her year.

“Watch where you’re going, spaz!” she whined, even though Y/N was the one who crashed onto the floor. Two other girls stood behind her, one of whom was named Lacey and the other was just some bitch who copied Cara to get ahead.

At the beginning of eighth grade, the secretary at the front desk of the school chose a few students each class period to help her with filing and giving notes to teachers and so on. Cara was one of the students chosen which virtually gave her the free pass to wander around whenever she wanted. Her friends, not so much, but if Cara told you to do something, you did it, even if it meant skipping class.

Y/N scrambled back up without apologizing, adjusting her bag and planning on walking away and ignoring her. Unfortunately, Cara stopped her by stiff arming her. “What’s the rush?” she hissed, a malicious smile curling up. Her eyes fell down to the ground. “Nice shoes. Do they come in women’s sizes?”

Okay, she was just trying to psych Y/N out. They were plain black Doc Martens, for crying out loud—it’s not like she was in steel toed work boots. “Are you done?” Y/N asked, unamused.

The grin on Cara’s face dropped and was replaced by a grimace fit for a cartoon villain. “Now listen—” she started, ready to chew the other girl out, but was interrupted by someone behind Y/N.

“Fuck off, Cara, or I’m telling the headmistress that your clown posse is skipping class thanks to you.” It was Harry, of all people. (Why he wasn’t in class either was a whole new can of worms, but Y/N chose to be grateful.)

She huffed out of her nose, realizing she was backed into a corner. Cara shoved past Y/N and slammed her shoulder into her, her goon squad following behind hot on her coattails.

Y/N breathed out a very appreciative thank you to Harry, and when he nodded at her, she went back on her way to her class, now with negative 4 minutes.

***

Y/N’s first mixer party was a night to remember, to say the least.

It took ages to convince her parents to let her go, but in her defense, both her mom and her dad were going to parties at 15. Plus, that was in the age of serial killers and before cell phones, so she definitely had the upper hand in that argument. Besides, it’s one party, what’s the worst that could happen?

Someone in her geometry class had invited her, and the same day she went to get a new flowy top from H&M to wear there. One of her art friends, Jenna, had already gotten her license and drove the two of them to the party where things were already in full swing once she’d entered.

It was a very mild kick back. It was a lower attendance than she’d anticipated, but the main point of reference she had were those crappy teen movies. The only thing people had to drink were those Smirnoff Ices that have almost no alcohol and a ton of sugar in them, which totally repulsed Y/N. Guess it’d be a sober evening for her.

After a few hours of chatting with people (that she would just talk to in school anyways) and listening to music, Y/N was about ready to call it a night. She excused herself from the host’s living room in search of Jenna when she felt someone tug at her arm.

It was Tyler, one of the centers on the school basketball team. “Y/N, hey! What’s up?”

She was totally caught off guard. Tyler was reallygood looking and didn’t usually spend his time around the art students. “Oh, um, hey. I was actually about to—” she started, eyes drifting to where he was holding her elbow still.

“Leave?” he finished, flashing a pearly white smile. “No way, it’s so early! Actually, I wanted to talk to you.”

A pit formed in Y/N’s stomach. What could Tyler want with her? Her eyes narrowed, but she figured she’d probably regret leaving more than finding out what he wanted. “Sure, what’s up?”

“In private, I meant.” He gestured towards the back porch, which eased her mind. If he was just trying to get handsy with her, he’d take her to a bedroom—not outside by the pools where everyone could see.

“Okay,” she finally agreed, letting him guide her outside into the yard.

The backyard was large and well taken care of. The pool had lights that changed colors, and all of the furniture matched the mahogany color of the deck, fence, and pool shed. A black grill looked like it had never been touched and the grass was a beautiful shade of bottle green.

“Are you having a good time?” he asked, breaking the ice and shoving his tanned hands into his pockets.

“Kind of. Not many of my friends are big partiers so this scene is pretty new for me,” she admitted, eyes dropping down to her shoes.

“That’s why I was surprised when I heard you were coming.” His hand came out from his pocket and lifted her chin up so that they were making eye contact. “I figured it was my only chance to tell you how pretty I think you are.”

Y/N was, how you say, shook. Her eyes widened and she squeaked out a “really?” before being alerted by a noise coming from the pool shed just a few feet away. “Did someone just laugh?” she asked, head snapping over to the shed in question.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Tyler claimed, trying to get her attention away from the shed to no avail.

“No, I swear I heard a laugh,” Y/N absentmindedly insisted, leaving Tyler to go yank open the doors of the shed.

What happened next was in light speed. The doors flew open to reveal Cara and Lacey, the former holding a 5-gallon bucket and the latter a cell phone as if she was filming. Before Y/N could even get a dazed ‘what?’ out, Cara had dumped the contents of the bucket onto Y/N. Ice water.

She let out a shriek at this, frozen in every sense of the term. When she could feel her feet beneath her again, she spun around to see Tyler laughing his ass off along with the girls.

“I almost couldn’t do it!” he yelled, clutching his stomach.

“Thanks, Ty,” Cara purred, going to loop an arm through his. “You earned that $20 fair and square.”

Y/N didn’t stick around for any longer. She didn’t want to go back in the house in the state she was in, and everyone had probably seen what happened anyways. Rather than face even more humiliation, she did the only thing that came to mind: run.

Y/N could text Jenna later. She ran and ran and ran until she was home, but rather than go inside and cry her eyes out in bed, she found herself at the base of the oak tree next to Harry’s window.

She frantically shimmied up the tree, pausing only to wipe tears out of her eyes. Her knuckles collided with his window and for a moment she wonders if it was too loud. Then the thought of Harry not hearing the knock at all flashed through her mind, and she was left wishing she'd hit it even harder.

The room brightened just a little bit, as if he'd turned on a lamp. She perked up at this, leaning forward but keeping her balance in the tree. He pulled aside the dark curtains and opened the window carefully.

"Y/N?" he asked groggily. "What are y'doing? Why are you soaking wet? Y'scared me half to death." She opened her mouth to explain but her eyes just welled up and she felt her face turn pink. "Wait, are you crying? Get inside." He lifted the window even higher so that she could tumble in gracelessly. Without asking any more questions, he pulled her into a big hug, where she sobbed quietly into the crook of his neck. It took a moment to get the sad out of her, but once she was ready to let go, his hug lingered for a half-second too long.

So there she sat, on his bedroom floor, covered in cold water and trying not to shed any more tears then she already had. Harry handed her a fluffy towel and she wiped her face off before starting to babble. "I'm sorry it's late, and you were probably sleeping, but it's been a really - hic - long and rough night and I just needed someone. I know I needed you last and it's not my turn but I didn't know who else to go to—"

"Wait wait wait, what did you say? Your turn?" he asked, holding a hand up and completely halting her babbling.

She nodded, wiping at the mascara running under her eyes. "I mean... yeah. The past eight years we've switched off who gets the next favor. You helped me last time when Cara and those other girls were picking on me, and now here I am again."

His eyebrows were knitted together in sheer confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said slowly. "It's never been on a turn system. Whenever you come to me in a time of need, or vice versa, we help each other." Y/N nodded, feeling dumb. "Besides, you didn't cometo me that time. I was just in the right place at the right time. Even if we were doing turns—which we're not—it's still technically yours anyways."

He was trying to make her laugh, and it worked. Her wobbly and blotchy face broke into a cute smile without her even trying, and Harry always found an underrated beauty in a laugh after a good cry.

"Now, do yeh wanna talk about tonight?" he pressed gently, sitting on his bed and offering her a spot next to him. It was hard explaining what happened without crying again, but once his hand started rubbing up and down her back, it was easy to relax and tell her story.

He was disgusted with what he’d heard, of course. “I’m so sorry about that Y/N,” he stammered, unsure of what to say. “You don’t deserve those kinds of people in your life, not now and not ever.”

She smiled and it was totally contagious. “Thanks H.”

“Do y’want me to get you some of Gem’s clothes?” he offered. “Yeh look like a sad puppy, shiverin’ and all.”

Y/N shook her head. “No, I think I’m just gonna go home. I can tell my parents I fell in the pool. Thank you for listening, and everything else. You’re a great friend.”

She returned the towel and left the same way she came in, Harry making sure she safely got to the ground before she ducked into her home. Something felt strange for a few minutes afterwards and Harry couldn’t put a finger on it until he was tucked into bed and drifting out.

That was the first time she’d called him his friend in eight years.

***

Fuck, my laundry!

Three universal words that will have anyone throwing themselves out of their bed late at night to go dig through a washing machine and pray it hasn't been so long that the clothes need to be rewashed.

Y/N was one of these people, on a night where she should probably be out with friends. It was Saturday night, but that meant tomorrow was Sunday and the day after that was Monday and that meant her stupid Calculus homework would be due. Who said that senior year would be a breeze? She wanted to kick their ass.

Fortunately, the clothes were fine, and on the way back to her room she was imagining how she was going to backflip into her bed and knock the hell out for nine hours. Just before she went upstairs, she saw a shadow in the corner of her eye fluttering outside the front door.

Her blood ran cold. Her parents were long asleep at this hour; if this was some intruder, she wouldn't be able to make it over to their room and have them awake quickly enough. Her mind scrambled over dozens of plans and ideas (all of which ended with the intruder totally catching her) before something really surprised her.

A knock at the front door.

Umm... people planning on breaking into your house don't knock. Well, they do, but only at two in the afternoon when they're checking if someone's home, not when it's well after midnight. She tiptoed to the door and peered through the glass to see none other than Harry.

She swung the door open instantly. "Harry? What are you do—?" She stopped when her eyes adjusted and finally was able to see that he was notin good shape.

Harry's hair was mussed up, lacking its usual composure. He wasn’t able to stand up straight without leaning on the column, like he was drunk as hell. One of his eyes had a purple smudge under it and his nose trickled a tiny amount of blood. His arms were covered in scratches and bruises, but the most pressing issue was what seemed to be a paper towel soaked in blood he was holding against the side of his torso.

"Oh my God!" she whisper-yelled, guiding him inside and taking him upstairs to her bathroom. She sat him down on the edge of her tub and dug through her cabinets for a first aid kit.

Y/N didn't ask any questions. She washed her hands, found a clean rag, wet it with warm water, and rubbed a tiny bit of soap on it. Harry was still sitting with the paper towel, which she tossed in the trash can immediately.

"Can you... uh..." Y/N trailed off, gesturing weakly towards his black t-shirt. He nodded, understanding exactly what she meant, and slowly reached up to the back of the neck on his shirt to yank it off his body. He hissed when he was able to lower his arms, and she got straight to work cleaning up his wounds despite his whines.

She'd never been this close to his skin before. That was kind of a weird sentence when she thought about it, but it was true. It was tanned and firm, and a few inches above the cut on his side were the ripples of the serratus muscles. Nice.

Once the cut was cleaned up, it was clear to see that it wasn't bleeding nor had it been very deep in the first place. To be safe, Y/N used an alcohol pad to sanitize the wound once more (which Harry was not a fan of, since he didn't see her pull out the packet nor have time to brace himself) and bandaged it up with a Band-Aid bigger than the palm of her hand.

Harry watched her intently while she tended to him. He noticed how when she focused really hard she always pursed her lips, just like she did when she did his art project. Everything she did to him was delicate, as if getting his ass beaten was enough excitement for one night. Even just her stepping back to admire her handiwork and cocking her head was so... gentle.

"Hmm... you're pretty," he goofily mumbled, making her head snap up. As soon as it was out in the room, he shook his head and ran a hand down his face. "God, sorry about tha'. I think I'm still a little drunk."

"Wow, the first boy who compliments me immediately takes it back and blames it on being drunk. Just my luck, right?" she joked dryly, cleaning the bloody rag and rewetting it with fresh warm water.

He stared at her. "Wait, are yeh serious? The first?"

Y/N paused, staring down at her hands. "I mean... does my dad count?"

Harry laughed at this but only for a second before wincing from the pain. He figured she wasn't counting that skeez who'd tricked her back when she was 15. "Then I take back taking it back. You're beautiful and caring, and I really appreciate you--ah, fuck-- doing this for me."

She'd started dabbing at the dried blood from his still-sensitive nose. "Thank you, Harry. That means a lot." Y/N further inspected his nose, gingerly feeling it and holding the rag below it to prevent any further bleeding. "Doesn't feel like it's broken. Think it's just a little sore. In a day or so you'll be right as rain." Her focus moved up to his black eye, and Harry didn't breathe while she let her thumb ghost over the thin skin. "This doesn't look that deep, either. I'll get something to cool it down, and if it still looks bad, I'll give you some makeup to cover it. Be right back."

She left him alone in the washroom but returned quickly with two little boxes of apple juice. "Why'd y'get two?" he asked, taking them from her.

"So you can drink one. You looked parched." She went back to cleaning the remaining blood from the rag and hanging it to dry on the towel rack. Once the bathroom had been reorganized and Harry had finished his juice box, she sat on the lid of the toilet. "So... if you don't want to talk about it, that's fine, but... can I ask what happened?" She waved a hand around his entire body.

He snorted. "Honestly, whenever I think about it, I cringe a little. It's so cliché."

"How so?"

Harry inhaled through his bruising nose sharply. "So m'at this party with my mates, right? I didn't know a lot of people there, so I was just trying to mind my business and have a pint or four. I'm sitting in the corner of this house near the front door and I see this girl trying to leave. She's totally wasted, and it kind of looked like she was calling an Uber. I tried t'keep an eye on her 'cause, y'know, world's a dangerous place. Just as she's about to leave, some guy comes up to her. Looks real mad. Demands that she go home with him, which she protests, says her ride is there. They kind of argue while she's going out the door, so I got up to follow 'em." Harry paused to roll his neck side to side, one pop one each side making the only sound in the bathroom. "Out on the porch, he's practically got her in a bear hug. I go into panic mode and start yelling at him.

"I'm yelling at him 'get off her' and 'what's your fuckin' problem' and stuff till I catch his attention. He shoved me, I shoved him back, then it's kind of a blur. Guess he got a couple in on my face before one of his buddies joined in on kicking my arse. I got knocked down and I landed on somethin’ rough which is what cut me up so bad." He gestured towards the bandage on his torso.

"Jeez, Harry," she breathed out, eyes like saucers.

"I know. The girl managed to make it out to her ride while all this was going on. Some other blokes pulled the fighters off me and I didn't know what to do. I grabbed some paper towels from a gas station t’stop the blood and came straight here.” Once he’d finished explaining, his gaze dropped down before adding a soft, “Didn’t know where else t’go.”

She nodded. “I appreciate that. I’m glad you’re okay and I’m glad that girl is as well. The universe will reward you for this for sure.”

He laughed at her ominous remark. “Little weird, but it’s not like I expected normalcy from the art expert.”

Y/N guided Harry back downstairs after giving him a big shirt to change into. “I’ll wash this and give it back as soon as I can, okay?”

He nodded and stopped at the front door. Harry looked down at his little Florence Nightingale, decided to do the one thing he’s wanted to do for almost ten years now, and leaned down to plant a kiss on her lips.

For a second, she was pliable and willing, and he thought she was about to deepen it, but instead she pulled him off. “I need…” she started, dazed. “I need you to forget that just happened.” Then she opened the door, pushed him outside, and closed it in his face.

[aka-willow]

List Of Names

gif

Words: 1181

Characters: Willow Wren, Annabel Carson, Erin Dunphee, Kate Gray

Prompt/Tag:

“really? do i look stupid?”

“fuck off. i mean it.”

“do it. i dare you.”

Summary: Willow gets into a fight after school and gets in trouble

Timeline: February 2016 

Song: Look What You Made Me Do - Taylor Swift

A/N: we’re in the endgame now...

—————————————————————————–

February 25th. The day the universe just decided to get together and collectively kick my stupid ass.

I woke up late for school and ended up getting myself detention that afternoon, before going to Spanish and realizing that I never studied for the test we had that day, even though I had the whole weekend to do so. Peter and Ned offered to help me study at lunch, but by then, I had a more pressing issue. I had found the address of another ex-Facility worker in the area. Theodore Lindsey. Lived in a suburb in New Jersey. Big house, actually. Huge lawn. Cute little homestead.

And I know, I know I was supposed to stop at some point, but I couldn’t. Not until I found that book. And I was pretty sure Theodore knew where Dr. Turner was. The book couldn’t be far from her. I had uncovered a series of emails on one of their old accounts. The two were together back about five years ago. If anyone knew where she went, he might. He traveled a lot, and based on his social media, he wouldn’t be in town much longer. I’d have to go tonight. Another name off the list. It was that easy.

“Are you sure we can’t help?” Peter asked, and I shook my head as I scrolled through information on my phone.

“I’ll be fine.”

Peter was the other issue of the day. Over the weekend, “Spider-man” had been caught stopping a bus with his bare hands. Super badass, except it ended up all over YouTube. I had been trying to help him get the video taken down, or at least muddy the water enough that it couldn’t be traced back to him, but I think he almost wanted it to stay up. Which, I understood, sort of, but at the same time, it was making me nervous.

After detention that afternoon and another awesome lecture by VCR Captain America, I found myself wandering the halls at MSST, before ending up backstage in the auditorium, studying the set pieces that people had been working on that afternoon, and wondering if it was too late to join tech again. Like I could ever handle that now. A few students were still working, and I stepped around paper plates of paint and wooden cutouts before shaking my head and starting to leave.

“Willow?” someone said, and I turned around to see Kate and Annabel sitting on the stage, working on a fabric backdrop together.

“Oh, I was just leaving,” I said. “Sorry.” Are they friends now? Since when?

“No, wait, hold on,” said Annabel, standing up. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“Annabel, don’t,” I heard Kate murmur. “She’s not worth it.”

“No, hold on,” said Annabel. She got up and walked over to me. I took a step back.

“Can we go outside into the hall?” she asked.

“Why?”

“C’mon.” Her voice was flat.

In the hallway by the stage doors, Annabel paced across the tiled floor, hands on her hips as I stood motionless across the hall from her. She then smiled at me, and it took me off guard. “So… Kate’s told me some things about you.”

My blood ran cold. “What? Told you what?”

She laughed humorlessly. “Just… it’s because of you my boyfriend died, isn’t it? Had to be.” She continued to pace. “Kate wouldn’t tell me, but what’s your deal? Um… because apparently… you’re not… well, my dad would say you’re enhanced.”

And there, my heart stopped completely, and I shook my head fervently. “No? What? Why would you say that?” I tried to play it off as a joke. “Wow, okay, you seriously think I’m like… what… powered? Is that what you’re trying to say? Dude…”

“Really? Do I look stupid? So, what, did someone come looking for you and you threw my boyfriend in the line of fire instead? How did it happen? Or did you make the whole thing up and do it yourself?”

“Are you serious? Fuck off. I mean it. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh… what are you gonna do? Get all big and green?”

I was trying to keep myself calm, but the glint in her eye and the way her mouth was twisted into some weirdly sick smile as she tried to pry out the truth was chipping away at my composure. Don’t lose it.

“I should tell my dad,” Annabel said.

“You know what?” I said. “Do it. I dare you. You’ll sound like a fucking idiot.”

She stepped forward and shoved me back a little before pointing a finger at my chest. “You’re the reason he’s dead. Whatever you brought along with you when you moved here last year, you got him killed. That’s on you.” My fingernails were already cutting half-moons into my palms. I tried not to react as she pushed me back again. “Do you have anything to say? Are you going to apologize?” Don’t let her get to you. Don’t react. “Come on,” she said. “Do something. I know you want—”

I couldn’t hold it in anymore. My fingers unclenched and the hallway filled with a rush of wind as I extended my palm and she shot back, hitting the wall across from me. She screamed and I gasped for control as I staggered backward against the other wall, my arms shaking, and my fingers numb with power that I was trying to control. “What the fuck?!” she yelled, just as I heard the door open on the other end of the hall. Principal Morita was standing there, with Kate standing behind him.

“She attacked me!” Annabel yelled. “We were just having a conversation and she pushed me!”

“Willow! My office—now!”

I tried to catch my breath as I steadied myself on the wall and glared at Kate, and back down at Annabel. Oh, God. Okay. She doesn’t know you used your abilities. She thinks you just straight up pushed her. Somehow.

“Willow!” Principal Morita yelled again. On shaking legs, I followed him down to the main office, figuring out a story in my head. “Twice in a day?” he asked as we walked. “Twice? Didn’t you just get out of detention?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to, she—”

And that’s how I got myself three days in-school suspension. He wouldn’t let me go home alone and insisted that I call “home” and when I told him I wasn’t living at the Field’s anymore, he asked who to call, and I gave him Jessica’s name. I waited on the bench outside his office and banged my head against the wall, pissed at myself for getting in trouble again. And now Annabel was on to me, she may already know considered I used my powers right in front of her, and somehow, she and Kate had been talking as well.

Just when I thought that day, February 25th, couldn’t get any worse, another office door opened and Detective Dunphee stepped out of one of the conference rooms. “Willow?” she asked. “What are you doing here?”

[vminni]

And They Were Roommates

Jisung burst through the open door of the RA’s room, his luggage clattering loudly behind him, “I need a room change, I can’t live there.”

The RA, who had introduced himself as Chan when Jisung walked by 30 seconds earlier, stared at him in obvious confusion.

“Did you even go in your room? I literally just saw you.”

“I opened the door and I saw my roommate and I can’t live there. Please change me.”

Chan crossed over to his door and closed it, indicating for Jisung to sit on the bed as he took a seat in his desk chair. “Do you already know him?” Chan asked slowly. “Is there a bad history there?”

Jisung shook his head, “I’ve never met him. It’s not that. I just can’t live with him.”

Chan sighed, “Look, I don’t know what’s going on here, but if you can’t give me a real reason, there’s nothing I can do. Even with a real reason, the school still requires you to live with someone for at least two weeks before they’ll consider making a change.”

“Did you see him when he came in?”

“I’ve been greeting everyone as they’ve walked by so I’m sure…”

Jisung cut Chan off, “He’s too pretty! I can’t live with a hot person!”

“You...what?”

“You know how hot people are,” Jisung flopped back onto the bed, his overstuffed backpack preventing him from the dramatics he was going for. “They’re awful. All full of themselves because they’re beautiful and they know they’re beautiful. Thinking they’re better than everyone else just because they have a perfect face. No way, man. I am not living with him.”

Chan blinked a few times, then slowly drew in a breath, “I’m sorry, but you can’t change rooms just because your roommate is too hot.”

A knock at the door interrupted Jisung’s protest before it began and Chan shot him a quick ‘wait one minute’ look before getting up and crossing to the door.

Jisung huffed and folded his arms over his chest, seething as Chan cracked the door.

“My roommate ran away,” the voice on the other side was soft and unsure. “He looked at me and bolted. This is why I asked for a sin…”

Chan swung the door fully open, revealing Jisung to the boy outside.

“Oh,” the boy hesitated , but stepped into the room when Chan waved him in.

“Sit,” Chan gestured to the open spot on his bed next to Jisung as he closed the door. “We clearly have some things to talk about.”

The boy perched on the edge of the bed, as far from Jisung as he could get. His discomfort was obvious as he gnawed on his bottom lip, sneaking a quick glance at Jisung before snapping his gaze away just as fast.

“We aren’t even an hour into move in day and we already have issues,” Chan groaned into his hands, more to himself than anything else. He lifted his head after, took a deep breath and looked at the two boys. “Okay, what’s happening?”

When Jisung didn’t speak, his roommate took the opportunity to, “When I signed up for housing, I asked for a single room, but they told me that wasn’t possible. I told them why I wanted one and they said they would do their best to pair me with a roommate who wouldn’t have any issues with that. But clearly,” he gestured towards Jisung, “that didn’t happen, because he took one look at me and ran. I don’t know how he found out but he obviously did, and he obviously doesn’t want to be near me.”

Understanding dawned on Chan’s face. Jisung still had no idea what was going on, but it was clear that his roommate was extremely upset. There was a blotchiness to his cheeks and an undercut to his voice, as if he was trying his best to not let the pain seep into his words.

“I don’t want to put anyone’s private business out there, so I’m going to leave it to you two to talk this out. But I just want you to know that it’s not what you’re thinking. That’s not why he ran.”

Chan got to his feet and opened the door, “Go back to your room and actually talk to each other. You’ll be fine.”

“I will not be fine,” Jisung huffed, snatching up his luggage and dragging it after him. “Talking is not going to solve my problem.”

“Sorry, mate. Like I said, you can’t change rooms.”

“If he’s going to be uncomfortable, why can’t he just change? There has to be at least one other gay kid on campus who won’t be disgusted by the thought of living with me.”

Jisung’s head snapped back to look at his roommate, who had paused in the doorway to plead with Chan one last time. “Wait, what? You think I don’t want to live with you because you’re gay? I didn’t even know that.”

The boy speared Jisung with a heated glance, his arms folded defensively over his chest, “My roommate at my last school had a problem with it. I tried to avoid it here by telling the housing people about it in advance and they said they’d give me a roommate who was comfortable with it. But then you saw me and ran away. Figured it was because of that.”

“I’m bi. I ran away because you’re hot.”

The other boy blinked at him, “What?”

“I’m so glad you two are solving your issues or falling in love or whatever is going on here, but could you please do it somewhere other than the middle of the hallway?”

Jisung flushed as he turned to look at the owner of the dry voice, bowing apologetically when he saw the congestion of students, parents and luggage that had built up behind them.

“Come on,” his roommate mumbled, grabbing one of Jisung’s suitcases out of his hand and tugging it with him down the hall. Jisung noticed the relief on his pretty face as he passed by and a brief wave of guilt rolled through his stomach before he tamped it back down and clammored after him.

The boy came to a sudden stop in front of their shared room and Jisung nearly crashed into him, catching himself at the last second. Halted, Jisung took that moment to examine the door. It had been decorated, presumably by Chan, with a summer motif that Jisung now noticed matched the rest of the hallway. Their particular door was fashioned with pineapple cutouts and the two largest of those featured their names.

Minho, who’s name Jisung now knew thanks to the decorations, opened the door and entered, dumping Jisung’s suitcase onto the naked bed on the right side of the room. The left bed was covered in a dark blue comforter and had a few bundles of clothes resting on top.

Jisung shrugged off his backpack and dropped his own suitcase to the floor, sneaking a few glances at Minho out of the corner of his eye as the other boy crossed to his own side of the room.

He hopped up onto his bed and let his feet swing, watching as Jisung crouched to shove his suitcase under his bare bed. His backpack and the suitcase Minho had carried followed suit as the other boy stared on in confusion.

“You aren’t unpacking?”

“No,” Jisung flopped down onto the naked mattress and dug his phone out of his pocket, pulling up the school’s housing website. “I still want a room change.”

Minho’s defenses immediately went back up and he pulled his knees to himself, resting his chin on them as he eyed Jisung warily, “I thought you were okay with my sexuality.”

“I am,” Jisung sighed deeply when he saw the bold notice at the top of the website confirming what Chan had told him earlier. There were no room changes until at least two weeks into the semester. “That’s not the problem.”

“So what’s the problem then?”

“Your face and, therefore, your personality.” Jisung rolled off his bed and sat himself cross legged on the floor, pulling out his backpack and opening it up. He fished around inside until he found his headphones, plugging them into his phone and slipping them over his ears.

“Oh no,” Minho was off the bed in an instant and he snatched the phone out of Jisung’s hand before he could select a song. “We have to talk about this, whatever this is. You don’t get to just ignore it.”

“Give me my phone back,” Jisung snapped. Minho hesitated, but complied, and Jisung rewarded him with an answer to his question, “You’re hot, which means you’re a jerk. I don’t want to live with a jerk.”

“I’m a jerk?” Minho quirked an eyebrow, but it didn’t do much to mask the hurt in his eyes. “That’s rich, coming from the asshole who didn’t even bother to say a word to me before deciding that.”

Jisung ripped his headphones off and treated Minho to an icy glare, “I don’t need to get to know you to know that you’re awful. All you hot people are the same. Stuck up and full of yourselves, acting like you’re better than everyone else. News flash, you aren’t.”

“News flash,” Minho parroted back at him, a glossy sheen beginning to build up in his eyes, “the only one who’s been awful here is you. I literally haven’t done anything to you! I’m tired of being treated like shit because of things I can’t control!”

A sob escaped his lips on the last word and he quickly covered his mouth, turning away from Jisung as his tears began to fall. Jisung watched from his spot on the floor as Minho grabbed a big hoodie from one of the bundles on his bed and tugged it on, swiping angrily at his cheeks with oversized sleeves.

His quiet, broken, “Fuck you,” was followed by the slam of the door.

-

“Your roommate sucks,” Jisung muttered, poking at his rice with a chopstick as Seungmin titled his head in confusion.

“How does he suck? All he did was say it was nice to meet you. And then he got up to go get another drink.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t like him,” Jisung kept his gaze focused on his food, ignoring the frown that was marring his childhood best friend’s face. “He’s got a bad vibe.”

“What’s your problem, man? First you get into a fight with your own roommate and now you’re dissing mine without even knowing him?”

“I don’t have to know him to know he sucks!” Jisung stabbed his chopstick into his pile of rice and stood up, his chair clattering to the ground and drawing the attention of all the nearby students. He snatched it up and slammed it back into place, startling Hyunjin, who had just returned to the table with a new glass of Coke.

“Oh, are you leaving already?” he inquired, confusion obvious on his face. “I thought we were all going to eat together?”

“I don’t want to be your friend,” Jisung snapped. He grabbed his tray and stalked off, rolling his eyes when he heard Seungmin in the background, apologizing for his behavior.

Not wanting to return to his room in case he had to deal with Minho again, Jisung hurried across campus towards the housing office. Maybe if he told them how awful the other boy was in person, they would let him switch rooms today. He could not live with him, not even for two weeks. It wasn’t possible.

“I want a new room,” Jisung announced to the receptionist in the housing office, “and I don’t want to wait.”

“I’m very sorry,” her tone implied that this was not the first time she had had this same conversation today, “there are no room changes until two weeks into the semester. Everyone has to give their current room assignment a fair shot before any changes will be approved.”

“I want to speak to whoever is in charge.”

“I’m sorry, but they’re in a meeting with another student right now. And they will just tell you exactly what I’m telling you now. It’s not possible.”

“How come that student got a meeting with them?” Jisung clutched the edge of the desk, desperation creeping into his voice. “If there’s no changes, they how come they get to talk face to face?”

“That student is a special case, because there’s a fear for his personal safety.”

Jisung was about to respond when the door behind the receptionist opened and Minho walked out, eyes swollen and cheeks streaked with tears. When his gaze landed on Jisung he visibly shrunk, receding into his hoodie as his eyes darted around for an escape.

Jisung’s mouth gaped open in shock, “I’m not….I wouldn’t…” His gaze danced from Minho to the receptionist, “I’m not going to hurt him! He’s not in danger!”

He suddenly had her attention and she sat up straighter, angling her chair to protect Minho as Jisung stared at him, “This is your roommate?”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t need to be scared.” Jisung’s eyes bore into the other boy’s red ones, “I swear, I’m not going to do anything to you.”

Minho’s short fingers played with the worn cuffs of his sweatshirt sleeves, gaze dropping to his feet, “Yeah, well, they’re going to try to switch my room. So you got what you wanted.”

Logically, Jisung understood that this was the perfect outcome. But he was highly insulted by the fact that Minho felt he was in danger, “I don’t want them switching it because they think I’m going to do something to you! I’m not!”

The head of housing stepped through the open doorway and gestured towards both boys, “Come in. We need to talk.”

Jisung followed behind Minho, muttering once again that he wasn’t going to hurt anyone. Minho’s shoulders tensing at his voice was the only indication that he had heard him speak at all.

“I spoke to your RA. He said there’s been friction since the minute you two met. He, howerer, does not think that anyone is in any danger.” The man turned to Minho, “Due to the circumstances of what happened at your previous school, we do not want to take any chances. As I mentioned to you earlier, we are looking into finding a suitable room change, but there is of course the same issue that we faced when forming your original rooming assignment. This young man,” he indicated Jisung, “was the only student who spoke openly of his sexuality in his admissions essay. While I’m sure there are hundreds of students on campus who would have no issues rooming with you, we don’t actually know who they are. And we of course do not want to put you into another situation where your fear your safety is in danger. So for now, we think it’s best if you two remain together.”

-

Jisung blinked awake, rubbing at his face with one hand as his other searched under the covers for his phone. Once he found it he thumbed it on, wincing as the bright light stung his eyes. It was 3:52 in the morning. He rolled over and noted that Minho’s bed was still empty. The other boy hadn’t returned to the room with him after the head of housing ignored their protests of living together. He had no idea where he’d gone and now, fourteen hours since he’d last seen him, Jisung felt a bit nervous.

He shucked his covers off and climbed out of bed, shoving his feet into the worn Vans he’d deposited at the bedside when he’d gotten in that night. He grabbed his room key and his phone and decided that he had to tell Chan what was happening.

Stumbling, Jisung wrenched the door open and tripped into the hallway, eyes still half lidded with sleep. A yelp startled him and he stopped in his tracks, blinking down at the boy whose foot he had stepped on.

“Minho?” he mumbled, rubbing at his eyes with his sleeve a few times before he convinced himself that his vision wasn’t playing tricks on him. “What are you doing out here?”

“Nothing,” the other boy mumbled, sitting up and drawing his knees to his chest. His hair was mussed and he looked small, his thin frame swallowed by his oversized sweatshirt. “Sleeping.”

“Your bed is in there,” Jisung’s sleep addled voice was laced with confusion as he indicated the door of their shared room. “Why are you out here?”

“I didn’t want to be in there with you,” Minho said softly, his gaze locked on the peak of his bent legs.

Jisung dropped to the floor besides him, uncoordinated enough in his sleepy state that his arm brushed against Minho’s as he sat. The other boy pulled back like he’d been slapped, drawing further in on himself as Jisung eyed him in confusion.

“It’s okay, ‘m not gonna hurt you,” he slurred, holding out a pinky towards the other boy. “I promise.”

Minho kept his gaze on his own legs and Jisung nudged him lightly, “Hey. I’m sorry. You’re right. I was a jerk earlier.”

Still no response.

“What happened at your other school? To make you so scared?”

Minho blinked a few times before whimpering softly and drawing into himself even more, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Did your roommate hurt because you were gay?” Jisung’s sleep addled brain had no filter. “Did you get beat up or something?”

Minho’s response was more of a breath than a word, but Jisung caught it anyway, “Yes.”

“Oh,” his hand hovered over Minho’s knee, but he drew back, not wanting to startle the boy with his touch, “I’m really sorry that happened to you.”

“This school was supposed to be better,” Minho scrubbed at his face, weary and broken. “More liberal and accepting. But they were still nervous about putting me with just any roommate. So I ended up with you and it’s been just as awful.”

“Yeah, but,” Jisung was confused, “I’m not going to hurt you? It’s not as bad.”

“You’ve already hurt me,” Minho’s gazed locked on Jisung’s for the first time since he’d sat down next to him. “Not physically, but you’ve still hurt me. Why don’t you get that?”

Jisung blinked, a sick feeling coiling in his stomach as he took in Minho’s words, “I-I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t know. I’m really sorry.”

A few beats of silence passed before Minho responded, “Well, you did.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jisung’s apology sounded meager to his own ears, but he wasn’t sure what else to say. “Can we start over?”

“What’s your problem anyway?”

Jisung’s shoulders slumped as Minho repeated the words Seungmin had spat at him earlier, “I honestly don’t know. I get defensive around people who are better looking than me.”

“Well, it’s super shitty. You’re shitty.” Minho slowly climbed to his feet, looking down at Jisung. He cowered under the truth of his gaze, head drooping in shame. “But if you promise to work on your attitude, I promise to try and forgive you.”

Jisung’s gaze snapped back up and he scrambled to his feet, holding a pinky out to Minho. “I promise to try my best not to be an asshole anymore.”

Minho’s pinky wrapped around his, the rest of his fist swallowed by the sleeve of his hoodie, “Roommates?”

Jisung offered him a small, timid smile, “Roommates.”

-

“Hello, Seungmin.” Jisung cleared his throat, fingers clutching tightly at his lunch tray, “Hello, Hyunjin.”

The two boys looked up, Hyunjin’s gaze immediately dropping back to his food when he recognized Jisung. Seungmin just stared, eyes steely.

A soft hand on the small of Jisung’s back gave him the courage to keep going, “Do you mind if Minho and I sit with you guys? I wanted to apologize for the way I acted last week.”

Seungmin turned to Hyunjin, who shrugged slightly. Jisung took that as an affirmative and sat down, Minho sinking into the seat next to him.

“This is my roommate Minho. Minho, this is my best friend Seungmin and his roommate Hyunjin.”

Minho offered both boys soft smiles. Hyunjin retuned it, but Seungmin continued to stare at Jisung, a warning in his eyes.

Jisung cleared his throat, “Hyunjin, I was a jerk to you the first time we met, and I’m very sorry about that. I don’t know what came over me. You didn’t deserve that kind of treatment. I’d really appreciate it if you gave me a second chance.”

Hyunjin glanced back and forth between Minho and Jisung for a few seconds before he nodded, “Seungmin told me what happened between you two on the first day. If you can forgive him, I guess I can too.”

“He’s trying to be better,” Minho assured him. “But don’t be afraid to call him out when he’s being an asshole. I do.”

“So you guys are cool now?” Seungmin had relaxed slightly and was eyeing the two boys with interest. “Because man was Jisung an ass to you.”

“We’ve settled our differences,” Minho glanced at Jisung with a soft smile. “Things are a lot better now.”

“The only problem is our RA hates us,” Jisung chirped, digging into his lunch. “I go to him to rant almost every day. One of these days I swear he’s going to stop opening the door.”

“If things are better, what are you ranting about?” Hyunjin’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“How hot Minho is,” Jisung picked up a piece of fried chicken, offering it to Minho before taking a bite himself. “It’s a major issue in my life. My bi-sexual ass was not ready to room with an actual god.”

Minho giggled slightly, a shy, pleased smile on his lips as he stared down at his plate.

“Yesterday he took his shirt off in front of me!” Jisung nearly jabbed Hyunjin in the eye with his chicken in his indignation. “Can you believe that? Chan had to hear about that disrespect for an hour.”

“I was getting changed for bed!”

“Still, it was very rude,” Jisung shoved his chicken in his mouth and pouted, batting Minho’s hand away when the other boy went to poke at his full cheeks. “You know I’m weak.”

“Only Jisung would go from hating someone purely because he was hot, to being obsessed with the same person for the same reason.” Seungmin shook his head, “You’ve got issues, man.”

“That may be true, but I’m working on them.” Jisung’s gaze landed on Minho and turned soft, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, “We’re working on them.”

-

“Happy one month roommate-iversary,” Jisung deposited the ice cream cake on Minho’s desk, right on top of the open textbook that covered most of the surface. “Also please accept this cake as a late apology gift as well.”

“I’ve already forgiven you,” Minho swiped a finger across one of the pink flowers that littered the surface of the cake and stuck it in his mouth. “But I’m always a sucker for sugar.”

“You forgive me?”

“Well, yeah,” Minho spun in his chair, blinking up at Jisung. “We’ve been friends since, like, day five. I forgave you ages ago.”

Jisung pouted, “I know we’re friends. But you never actually said you forgave me, you just promised that you’d try to forgive me. I didn’t know I’d been forgiven.”

“You have been,” Minho stuck his finger in the icing again, this time holding it out to Jisung. When he leaned in to eat it, Minho swiped it across his cheek instead, laughing at the startled look on Jisung’s face. “Cute.”

Jisung brightened, “You think I’m cute?”

“Maybe.” Rose dusted Minho’s cheeks as he scooped up another fingerful of icing and popped it in his mouth, “Maybe that’s why I used to go and rant to Chan.”

“I can’t believe he banned us from talking to him unless it was an actual emergency,” Jisung sighed, leaning over Minho to dig his own finger into the cake. “It’s literally his job to listen to us. I should write a complaint.”

“Put yourself in his shoes,” Minho laughed, “you go in there and rant about how hot I am for an hour. Then I go in there and rant about how cute you are for twenty minutes. We’re lucky he didn’t kill us both.”

“Only twenty minutes?” Jisung pouted. “Damn, I’m hurt.”

“I’d get to twenty minutes and I’d start remembering how awful you were at first and it would kill my vibe.”

Jisung frowned and placed a hand on Minho’s shoulder, eyes seeking the other boy’s, “I know you said you forgive me, but I just want to say again how sorry I am for that. I was such an asshole. You didn’t deserve that. No one deserves that. You’re the best person I’ve ever met and it kills me that I’ve hurt you in any way. And I’m so thankful everyday that you are as amazing as you are and were willing to still be my friend after I was the biggest jerk on the planet to you.”

“You learned your lesson,” Minho said softly, his own hand folding over Jisung’s. “That person isn’t you anymore. You’re wonderful and sweet and someone who I’m very proud to call my friend.”

“Someone who maybe one day you’d want to call more than a friend?” Nerves tattered Jisung’s voice and he bit down on his bottom lip as Minho’s fingers tightened over his own.

“I think today would be okay for that.”

“Yeah?” Jisung asked, leaning down as he spoke.

“Yeah,” Minho agreed, surging up to meet his lips halfway.

-

Chan ripped his door open, glowering at the boy who was banging on it, “I told you not to bother me unless it was an emergency.”

“It is an emergency.”

“Jisung,” Chan sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair, “Minho wearing those pants is not an emergency.”

“That’s not it,” Jisung waved him off. “It’s a real emergency this time.”

“What is it?”

“Minho is the best kisser in the world and I think I’m addicted to his lips. But he’s in class right now and I don’t know what to do, I think I might die.”

Jisung huffed in annoyance as Chan shut the door in his face. “I want a new RA! You’re useless!”

“Yeah, well, you wanted a new roommate too and look how that turned out,” Chan’s voice floated through the door. “No changes allowed.”

Maybe the two weeks until a roommate change wasn’t such a bad rule after all, Jisung found himself thinking later that night as he was curled up in Minho’s arms, the other boy fast asleep. Maybe the school did know what they were doing after all.