#maybe it even inspires them to stick with their fashion classes when things start getting more difficult

[byanyan]

ah... college verse byan opening their first little online store to sell accessories & clothing pieces they've made, then being surprised when people actually buy them

[rayslittlekitten]

Rich Girl Mood

“Toff Girl” (aka “Damsel” Universe) Masterlist

A/N: I started writing this a long while ago but have been sitting on it because I was still trying to figure out the end game (I still am) but I'm a little closer and I think however this series ends, this chapter I think is still solid for what it is so I finally finished it. This I think gives more insight of the reader character than her relationship with Ray. Title and chapter inspired by "Rich Girl Mood" by Dounia and Kehlani (YT link below)

Rating: T

Word Count:  3,294

Pairing: Raymond Smith x F!reader

Plot: Another year, another birthday party.

Contains: angst, recreational drug use, hurt, jealousy, light mentions of D/s relationship, collars, cursing

After your cryfest in your car, you cleaned yourself up and went in to see your parents briefly and sort of lied about a missing pair of shoes. You then feigned looking in your old bedroom which has become a bit of a storage closet for you. You also act surprised when they hand you the gift box Ray mentioned. You told them you would send Mickey and Ray a thank you card.

You're now back at your flat staring at the big Tiffany blue box while stuffing your face with your favorite pastries from Astrid's Cafe and Bakery. You put the mostly eaten slice of cake down and pull the shiny black ribbon loose. Of course it feels so soft. Ray probably spent a good quid on the ribbon alone. You wouldn't be surprised if it was made of actual silk. Only he would do something so extra.

You take a deep breath and finally lift the lid. This asshole even took the time to wrap your things in tissue paper? You roll your eyes and huff. You grab the small cream-colored envelope sitting on top of the neatly and carefully folded white delicate sheets. You flip the envelope open and pull the card out.

Hi love,

I hope this letter finds you well. I figured you'd eventually want your things back, especially your shoes. I know they were one of your favorites. I even took the time to polish them for you since last time you had scuffed them. There are some things in here that I also thought you should have as I have no more use for them.

Take care,

Ray

You gently tear open the tissue paper and as expected, you find your heels looking shiny as new. You see what else is inside the box and find a few things like your toothbrush, toiletries and some clothing, neatly folded and stacked in true Ray fashion. You know he had your clothes washed, dry cleaned and pressed as well, including the outfits he picked out for you. You look through them and choke up a little seeing your collars carefully placed between the perfectly folded clothing. They're all there, including his favorite, the one with a little bell on it. You tilt your head curiously when you find a small velvet box. The rock in your belly is creeping back in. You stare at it for a moment before reaching for it. You nervously grip the box between your fingers as you take your time flipping the lid open. You let out the breath you'd been holding when you don't see a ring, but instead you feel your heart breaking all over again seeing your day collar. The same one you ripped off your neck and threw at him.

Your eyes blur up for the millionth time today and you swipe your fingers over them. In the corner of your eye, you notice another envelope sticking out from under the clothes. You reach for it and pull it out. Flipping it around, you notice it's completely unmarked. You open it and pull out two business class plane tickets to Greece. Confused, you look in the envelope again and find a folded piece of paper. You pull it out and open it up.

I had planned to whisk you away for a week for your birthday, but I can't use these anymore so I thought maybe you can. Enjoy your birthday, my love.

-Ray

This isn't fair. This isn't fucking fair. Not fair to you, not fair to Ray. You don't know how much more your heart can take.

***

Over the next few weeks, you go on a date or two with Fred just to get out of your flat. You've been sulking and comfort eating and sniffing Ray's cardigan long enough. The dates were fun, but if you're honest with yourself, while Fred is a really nice guy, he just doesn't do it for you romantically. You had to be upfront with him as you didn't want to string him along. He deserved to know the truth, but thankfully he took it with ease and understood. You did invite him to your birthday party though and you know someone who would actually pair real well with him. You usually don't play matchmaker, but you think you've got this one in the bag.

Speaking of birthday parties, you just wanted something small but your parents insisted on throwing something for their only child. They do this every year, but you let them because you know it's really just an excuse for them to throw a fancy party to show off to their fancy friends. You know after the first hour or two of greeting people you either don't know, don't remember or haven't seen since you were a wee child, you're going to disappear into the garden shed to get sloshed on expensive liquor and smoke the best weed in all of England with your closest friends like you did when you all were younger. Growing up around so much money, you've always hated the posh snobby kids who thought they were too good for anyone, but you have a small group who were never like that and you always stayed close to them. Everyone else at the party can fuck off and freeload on the booze and food.

You do a once over glance in the mirror to check your makeup and hair. Your hand touches your bare neck and after a moment, you get up from your vanity chair and slip on your heels and smooth out your sickeningly expensive dress. It clings on to your every curve and dip. That’ll sure get some lookers. You still feel like something is missing though.

"Darling, are you ready? Guests are waiting!"

"I'll be right out, mummy!" you shout back.

You quickly go through your overnight bag and pull out a box. You open it up and look at the jewelry for a moment before putting it on, then take one final look in the mirror and you're satisfied with what you see. It doesn’t hold meaning anymore, although it’s sentimental to you, but it has always comforted you, feeling it snug around your neck. It was like your security blanket. It made you feel safe because whenever you wore it, you always knew Ray was close by.

Ray dominating you wasn’t just some kink. It wasn’t just about being in control, or rather giving it up. Being his sub meant he would love you and protect you deeply. It was a shared bond. He brought you pleasure in so many ways and made you forget when you had a bad day, but most importantly, he made sure nothing can hurt you. You completely allowed your heart, body and soul to be delicately encased by his own design.

You take a deep breath and polish off the whiskey you've been nursing while getting ready before putting your face on for the crowd. 

When you reach the bottom of the long grand staircase, you’re greeted by your parents and some people you don’t recognize. You plaster on a smile and shake their hands, thanking them for coming. As you walk off to go greet more people, you grab a flute of champagne and down it, placing it back as quickly as you snatched it up when a server walks by with a tray. You’re reminded why you hate these big parties.

You almost spit your champagne out when you spot Mickey and Ros. The nerve. Of course your parents invited them. You know Mickey only does anything if he’s getting something out of it so while it appears he gives a shit about your birthday and respecting your parents’ cordial invitation, he’s probably rubbing elbows with people who can be potential partners. Wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already negotiating and sealing deals while he’s here. You now wonder if Ray is somewhere around this giant house.

You walk over to the Pearsons to greet them with the least fake smile you can manage to put on.

“Hi, Mickey.”

“Hello, there. The woman of the hour!” Michael turns to you with a smile. “You’ve met my wife Ros, right?”

“Yes, pleasure to see you again.” You and Ros greet each other with a kiss on the cheek. She might be the only one in his posse you actually don’t mind. Her and Bunny. That gentle giant.

"Thank you both so much for coming!" You try to stretch out your smile but your facial muscles can only go so far.

"Happy birthday, love,” Ros smiles.

Although, you know Rosalind is probably on the up and up on what goes on in Mickey's world, including what happened with you and Ray. There is no way tea didn't get spilled on her.

"Thank you," you slightly bow your head. “How are you doing? Business is going well I assume?”

“Ah, let’s not talk about business. We’re here as guests, not salesmen. How are you doing?” Mickey returns the attention to you.

“No business? What a surprise,” you try to jab subtly. “I’m doing well, thank you.”

“Sweetheart! There’s someone I want you to meet,” your mother suddenly comes out of nowhere.

“Excuse me,” you tell the Pearsons. "I hope you both enjoy yourselves.”

They nod at you before being whisked away by your mother.

***

After being introduced to a bunch of random people including some suitors, you sneak off into a secret side room to get a breather. You used to hide here a lot when you were younger when you wanted to isolate yourself when everything felt too overwhelming.  Especially from these parties. It always felt so performative when you just wanted to be a kid and play with your friends, but you were expected to be prim and proper, until you were old enough to realize you didn’t have to do any of this. You still remember those long boring etiquette classes and sometimes still use the wrong utensil on purpose as an act of rebellion. 

You feel around your body and realize you left your joint and lighter in your bedroom. Letting out a heavy sigh, you savor another moment of silence before marching back out into the wild. As you make your way to your bedroom, you round the corner and smack right into a hard chest.

“Oh my gosh, I am SO…” You look up at the man and your voice dies.

"Kitten…” Ray gasps quietly to himself when he sees your day collar sitting against your neck.

You can't get away from this man now, can you? Ironically, it feels like you're actually seeing him more often than you did when you were together. Like muscle memory, you plaster your cookie cutter smile on your face and greet Ray and the woman standing next to him.

"Hi, Raymond." You mentally kick yourself for overdoing your enthusiasm.

"H-hi."

You never thought there'd be a day you'd make Ray all flustered and stumble over his words. Mr. Calm and Controlled, my arse.

"Didn't expect to see you here tonight, but thank you for coming," you say, still with your painful smile on your face. You’re pretty sure it’s going to be permanent by the end of the night.

"Uh, just here for Michael," Ray quickly comments and nods. "Um, this is–”

“I know dear ol’ Rebecca.” Both you and Rebecca greet each other with air kisses on each side of your faces. “How are you? Haven’t seen you in quite some time,” you tell her.

“I’m doing very well. My company nearly doubled its revenue last month so I can’t complain,” she beams.

“You mean your father’s company?” you clarify.

“Yes, but he made me the president of the company a few months ago so it’s really mine too,” she explains. “He’s retiring soon so I’ll be CEO any day now. Anyways, how are you? I don’t really see you around much,” she shakes her head.

“Oh, I’m just always so busy,” you reply. Avoiding the lot of you. “I was actually thinking about taking a little trip to Mykonos next week. An unexpected birthday present.”

“I hear it’s fabulous this time of year,” Rebecca says. “And the men there are gorgeous.”

“Really?” you ask curiously. “I should probably go then.” You quickly glance over at Ray to see his reaction, seeing him shift uncomfortably.

You spot Fred in your peripheral vision and instantly grab his arm, pulling him in close to you.

“Freddy, love. You remember Raymond, right?” you ask him. You look back at Ray and can see his jaw ticking.

“Oh, hey! Good to see you again, mate!” Fred puts his hand out and Ray reluctantly takes it and as soon as he does, Fred pulls him in for a hug. Ray grimaces and lightly pats Fred on the shoulder. There is some actual genuine joy behind your smile now. 

“Freddy, darling! It’s been ages!” Rebecca exclaims.

After Freddy pulls away, he greets Rebecca.

“Bloody hell, Becca! When did you get so tall?” 

While they hug and catch up, you and Ray stare daggers at each other.

“Wait, are you two dating–” Freddy starts but you interrupt him.

“Um, Freddy,” you loop your arm around his again. “I think I’m ready for…” you vaguely gesture your head, nodding in a general direction towards the garden.

“Oh! Sure, yeah. I’ll meet you there after I stop by the loo,” Freddy says. “It was nice seeing you both again. Excuse me,” he says to Ray and Rebecca before walking off.

“Well, hope you’re both enjoying the party,” you say, clapping your hands together. “Excuse me. I have something I need to do.”

You walk off, not even bothering looking back as you make your way to your bedroom.

***

“Oh my gosh, Sophie, you have to tell that story about that time we pulled that prank on Lit’le Henry. Remember Henry?” you laugh, after taking a puff and passing it to Fred. 

“I don’t think Antonia here has heard about this story.” You wink at Fred. You introduced Antonia to Fred and they seemed to be hitting it off really well.

“‘Enry was a lit’le shite. It wasn’t a prank. It was revenge,” Sophie starts.

Sophie proceeds to tell the story about how a mutual friend kept getting bullied by Henry so the group of you teamed up to exact revenge on him. It was originally Fred’s idea but in the end he also took the fall for all of you. However, Henry never dared to bully anyone ever again.

“And I’d do it again,” he boasts.

You were finally able to sneak off with your friends to go hide in the shed to have a party for yourselves. No pretending, no masks, no manners. Just laughs. For those few hours, you were able to actually enjoy your birthday. You can’t remember the last time you had this much fun or laughed this hard. 

“Oh, fuck. I must have dropped my stash when I went to the toilet,” you say when you realize you can’t find the spare joints you rolled up. “I’ll be back. I’ll also get another bot’le of wine.”

“Love, it’s your birfday. Get one of the servants to fetch it for ya,” someone jumps in.

“They work for my parents, not me. Besides, I can use some fresh air,” you chuckle before bursting out of the shed.

As you cut through the long garden to make your way back into the house, you notice Ray pacing back and forth off to the side of the house while talking on the phone.

“Yes, boss. I understand.”

When he hangs up, he looks up and sees you cautiously walking trying to avoid being seen. You nearly twist your ankle as you tiptoe around and miss a step but Ray quickly catches you instinctively. So much for trying to dodge him.

“Are you alright?” Ray asks, looking into your eyes.

You stare back for a few moments, breathless. It might be the weed and alcohol but you want nothing more than to wrap your arms around him and let him hold you and never let go, but your daydreaming gets interrupted.

“Oh my! Looks like someone’s had a bit to drink tonight. You always know how to throw a party,” Rebecca comments as she walks over. “Ray, I’ll be back in a few. Need to powder my nose,” she winks before walking off inside the house. 

You quickly remove yourself from Ray’s grip and straighten yourself out.

“Are you alright?” Ray repeats.

“I’m fine,” you reply and start heading towards the house.

“Wait!” Ray takes a step in front of you, stopping you in your tracks.

“What is it, Ray?” You ask, now annoyed.

“Just so there’s no misunderstanding, Rebecca and I are not together. She’s just here with her parents and it’s my job to keep her entertained while her parents and Michael have an informal meeting,” Ray tells you.

“Ray, it’s really none of my business,” you shrug. "But I'm not surprised that's part of your job. I just hope she doesn't take it too hard when you're done with her and tell her to fuck off." You then try to maneuver around him but he side steps you.

“I know it’s none of your business but it’s important to me that you know. I don’t want you to think I’m trying to hurt you in any way because that’s the absolute last thing I want,” Ray shakes his head, ignoring your snide comment. “I don’t want to be at this boring party as much as I know you don’t either.”

“OH!” Your eyebrows shoot up to your almost perfectly coiffed hairline. “I’m so sorry my party isn’t dramatic enough for you.” You cross your arms under your breasts which are now accentuated by your arm placement.

Ray’s eyes begin to twitch as he realizes what he had said.

“No, that’s… that’s not what I meant—“

“No cunt to punch in the face. No damsel for you to save,” you say as you raise your arms above your head and wave them around.

“Can you please lower your voice? I was genuinely concerned for you. That cunt put his hands on you!” Ray snarls.

“It’s my fucking party so I’ll be as loud as I want!”

Ray looks around nervously to make sure they don’t draw any attention.

“You just can’t go around punching every bloke who puts his hands on me! You’re not my boyfriend anymore!” You push right past him with all your might and shoulder check him out of your way.

“Well, your actual boyfriend should have, but he left you all alone in a crowded pub full of drunk men!” Ray growls. “That would have never happened with me. I would have protected you!” 

You stop in your tracks and twirl around.

“Oh, please! You weren’t protecting me. You just don’t like seeing someone else’s hands on me!” You walk up to him and poke your finger into his chest. “Why do you even care so much? You’re the one who broke up with me.”

“I still care about what happens to you,” Ray adjusts his glasses. “Kitten…”

You start shaking your head.

“Just because I can’t love you the way I want to, the way we want to, it doesn’t mean I automatically stop caring for you.” Ray’s face and voice softens.

“No!” You growl into his face. You grunt out of frustration and rip your necklace off for the second time and throw it at him. “I don’t give a shit what you do with that. Just don’t give it back to me.” You spin around and stomp away towards the house.

[rui-drawsbox]

hey dude

how did you develop your art style? ive been drawing for years and I cant seem to get a handle on ANYTHING

4 almost 5 days late sorry dude you shot right into my inability to put thoughts into words properly HAHA

alright so first of all, i don't even think a style is something you need to do art. I'm a hobbyist apologist and as long those people enjoy creating it doesn't even have to look "good".

That aside i'm assuming you want to take art at least a little seriously so i'm just going to be straight forward and say that the only way is ping-pong between styles/techniques/themes and just stick with the stuff you feel more comfortable doing.

Now going into my personal experience, that's what you asked after all lolol (from now on this is just yapping so feel free to ignore it)

alr soooo im skipping my first steps into art and going into the humanoid phase. I actually started with sonic! Specifically the show Sonic X, of course i picked up mannerisms from the anime when it was time of doing comedic doodles (and cuestionable taste on fashion)

(im going thru my big inspirations so bear with me here)

2015 came and i discovered my two main inspirations for a long time: fnaf and Ed00chan! (link to her abandoned deviantart so yall can see the style of the time). As i was completely enamored by her anime-yet-cartoony style i was also hyperfixated with fnaf and those two things combined perfectly into (the infamous in the spanish side of the fnaf fandom) fnafhs! bing bang boom there it goes my personality for the next 5 years!

sprinkle a few power puff girls z too why not

anyway at that time i wanted to become a pro like ed00 so i had to understand anatomy, and my go-to channel was Bgm94! But the elders said that to broke the rules you have to understand them, so i just kind-of started doing more "realistic" bodies while maintaining the cartoony-ness i liked so much. Which to be fair, didn't last long before i got bored and jumped straight into cartoon/chibi again

also since we're entering my digital era i'm including some drawings with wild style changes since the experimentation never ends owo9

anyway that was 2018 and before! it was around 2017-18 that i dropped the general tutorials and just started experimenting on my own style/anatomy and trying to improve my skills (im ignoring my sketchbooks bc from now on they just become- well, sketchbooks, instead of doing full drawings i just doodled in classes and leaved the detail for digital stuff)

i would love to include all my 2019 folder bc i consider it was a year full of love for my silly doodles but tumblr has a limit for images HAHA. Hopefully you can see how i go trying out stuff and pick little stuff from every stage with me lolol

2020 hits and you can *see* my hyperfixation with twisted wonderland here, at least my folder is 60% twst drawings i made for my fanfic at the time LOL. Not so many style jumps here tho so let's keep going

2021 and 2022 here! at the second half of 2022 i found my oh so beloved crunchy brush and i also fell hard for Arashi Narukami, so basically my tumblr became an arashi fanpage lol

stuff at 2023 keeps pretty the same until now tbh, the only highlight would be the re-inclusion of noses bc of spiderverse 2. My style also has been pretty well maintained since i started doing commissions so i don't really do so much experimentation anymore, at least not with proportions and such.

alr so that was my journey on artstyle! Of course it's not like you're gonna guess all my process just by looking at the images so i'll say what type of stuff i feel influenced my decisions.

i'm very lazy and for a log time i just abandoned my projects if it prolonged more than a day or two, that obviously made me lean into the cel/plain shading rather than spending hours and maybe days rendering (not that i don't try rendering every now and then but i don't enjoy spending so much time in a single piece)

everyone around me always has been extremely supportive so i had the privilege of dedicating all my soul to drawing silly characters haha, i feel like since i never felt the need of comparing myself to others i could actually experiment so unapologetically with my style until i was satisfied

finding an actual brush that i like is always crucial to me tbh, even in traditional i'm pretty picky with how the ink and type of pen i'm using. Of course, i also tried multiple traditional art techniques (watercolor, acrylics, crayons, pencils, pastels, my favorite are pen+markers)

i dont like feets. that shows until today.

in general i think an artstyle is something extremely personal that every person has to shape themselves and that it can't really be a permanent thing, it's gonna fluctuate with the artist whenever they like it or not.

[gleekto]

Fic: Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You (4/?)

Short Summary: Blaine coming of age in 1969. Columbia University. Hippie!Kurt. Elliott and Sebastian as Blaine’s mentor-friends. Unironic use of ‘groovy’. Coming out and fitting in and falling in love.

Amazing Poster by @caramelcoffeeaddict

For @slayediest who gave an inspired prompt for this way back when.

Day One, Day Two, Day Three

Day Four: Organization

Blaine has a skip in his step as he walks into music history on Tuesday. He's wearing his new purple-blue slacks with his colorful vertical striped shirt - classic but fun and he doesn't even let himself think about impressions. He surveys the room and decides to bite the bullet - He walks confidently into his row. The cute hippie who he now knows is Kurt, and sits himself down. Two seats away. But it's almost beside him. And he doesn't want to seem too desperate. To make friends of course.

Blaine has been so busy with work and with preparing for their dorm rap tomorrow that he almost forgets about Kurt. But apparently he remembers enough to chance sitting with him today.

Professor Cohen starts the lecture as soon as Blaine sits down which is maybe fortunate because Blaine doesn't have a chance to get nervous trying to figure out how to make casual conversation - which is usually his strong suit but apparently not when he thinks the guy is attractive and has a biting sense of humour.

Kurt is just sitting in his spot like he does every class, looking too perfectly coiffed for a true hippie but he certainly has the colour scheme - orange bell bottoms today with a silk cream, mustard and orange button down to match. And Blaine tells himself that he should stop noticing that Kurt's pants hug his thighs if he actually wants to be able to talk to him. In his experience, guys do not appreciate being appreciated by other guys. Lucky for him, Kurt doesn't turn to notice him looking.

"So as you can see, music here, and jazz specifically, is used as a rebellion against-" Professor Cohen, always animated. It's a good class.

"Excuse me, Professor." The class turns back to none other than Roger Smith interrupting the lecture. Blaine rolls his eyes - the guy just does not know when to listen and when to speak.

"Roger," Professor Cohen sighs.

"Yes, um. It's Roger Smith, here. And I just had a question."

Why does he always do this? Blaine mumbles under his breath. And that is what gets Kurt's attention. Well, at least Kurt turns to look at him and smirks. Not at him, but with him. Conspiratorily. Blaine smirks back. Blaine knows that he and Kurt and likely most of the rest of the class are sharing this smirk, at least in their heads - Roger Smith is not a difficult target - but still, he considers this progress. A shared moment. And a boost for his gut feeling that the two of them would get along - music history, different styles but deliberate fashion, a little bit of judgement, and well, that thing that makes Blaine wonder if maybe Kurt is- He knows he shouldn't be thinking that way. He has the Homophile League, anyways. Even if most of them see him as a little brother to mentor rather than a boyfriend.

Ten minutes later, Roger Smith has his hand up again and the Professor shakes his head. "Hold that until the end of class, okay Roger?"

Finally stops him, Kurt says under his breath and turns to look at Blaine. No prompting.

Blaine makes a mental note that he will have to thank dear Roger Smith.

... (Kurt POV)

"What are you doing, Kurt?" Rachel sticks her head into his dorm room where he is sitting at his desk and prepping his typewriter to write his Shakespeare essay.

"Clearly I'm taking a shower, Rachel," Kurt stares blankly at her. "What does it look like?" He gestures to the typewriter.

"Kurt, the dorm rap session starts in five minutes and you look like you're about to set in for an exhilirating night of essay writing? Did you forget?"

"No." Kurt hadn't forgotten. The Student Homophile League was coming to his dorm floor for a "rap". How cute. He couldn't get his mind off of it all day, actually. The organization prides itself on being a group of very nice "regular" homosexuals who just want to promote tolerance and kindness to others. Kurt scoffs at the idea. He's never been regular, could never be regular, and why should he have to fit into a box acceptable to others anyways?

Kurt had been waiting for college so he could finally leave Lima, Ohio for New York City and Columbia. His whole life he had heard the whispers behind his back and to his face - that people say that he’s a homo, a pansy. They say they see it in his walk, in the way he talks. Frankly, he’s sure it’s because he has a far better fashion sense than any of them, but anyways. He was exhausted by the whispers, by the never quite fitting in, of slow dancing at his prom with his best friend Mercedes instead of with a matching suit or bow tie. He was also tired of the self preservation, holding it all in, never saying a thing, pretending he was reading Vogue for the pretty girls (when obviously it's for the fashion). He knows it's not easy to be an open homosexual at college but Columbia is in New York with hippies and more black people than just his best friend, and people who aren’t afraid to be different. So he took his chances. And those chances led him to Rachel Berry, who welcomed him into their anti-war, hippie dorm living. In this hippie world, he feels like he can relax for the first time. And not just because of the weed.

“Do you actually think I need to be convinced to be tolerant of homosexuals?” Kurt dismisses.

"Come on, Kurt," Jesse St. James, their floor don and Rachel's new boyfriend, pokes his head over her shoulder. "You know you want to go." It's not entirely untrue. "I, for one, think it's a great thing they're doing. I've had guys think I'm attractive. Girls too, of course," Rachel smiles up at him. It's nauseating. "But I'm cool with that. Love for everybody, you know?" How hippie of him.

“Maybe you’ll meet someone," Rachel adds in. And that is exactly why he doesn't want to go.

“We homosexuals," Kurt emphasizes the word, "Also have taste, you know? We don’t just want to date anything that moves. So please, don’t try to set me up with the only other homosexual you've met here. Or the one you'll meet tonight. Because I know you don’t know any others.”

"Well neither do you," Jesse adds - a fact that is unfortunately true. "So I expect you to at least come tonight to get some free looove," Jesse sing songs. Idiot.

Kurt decides it's easier to just go and sit there silently rather than deal with these fools who wouldn't let him hear the end of it if he stayed back to work. Which he really needs to do, by the way. Anyways, it's only an hour of his life.

"I'll be down in a bit," He says. "But I won't be enthusiastic about it."

[vizowrites]

My BlitzStrike Twins: Headcanons and Shenanigans~ [probably with a bit of my M&M kids thrown in just for fun]

So today I got a couple of fantastic asks about Blitz and Striker as parents, and since there seemed to be a pretty positive response to them--and because @helluva-simp​ is amazing and encouraged me to be brave enough to write this up--I thought I’d go ahead and make a full post of my headcanons for these two little devils.  I really do love the hell out of them and hope you guys enjoy hearing about them too!!  <3 <3

Twist’s and Ty’s full names are Twister and Typhoon but literally nobody calls them by their full names ever so they like to make the joke of “the ‘-er’ and the ‘-phoon’ are silent”

Ty is actually the older of the two [though not by much] but everyone thinks that Twist is because his name is always called first.  It’s always “Twist and Ty” [or just collectively “Twist-Ty”] instead of “Ty and Twist”.  Ty honestly doesn’t mind that much as far as following after his brother goes, just don’t make the mistake of trying to label him as the younger of the two.  There are a lot of things Ty’s perfectly content to let Twist take the lead in, but having the title of “the older twin” is just going too far.

Twist and Ty are mirror twins, meaning that they’re mostly identical except for a few key things: 1. Twist is left handed and Ty is right handed, 2. they both have heterochromia but Twist’s eyes are Left: Red | Right: Green-Gold whereas Ty’s eyes are Left: Green-Gold | Right: Red, 3. Twist has a birthmark on his right hand and Ty has his birthmark on his left hand--and yes when you put the two marks together, they form a design not unlike the heart shaped one on Blitz’s forehead :) 

Both of the twins are incredibly agile, but Twist is faster and Ty is more flexible

Striker affectionately calls Twist “Whirlwind” because of said fastness

Blitz affectionately calls Ty “Noodle” because of said flexibility

.....Though it should be noted that it’s not all fun and games because Twist is CONSTANTLY crashing into things or tripping over his own two feet from going too fast, and Ty is so flexible that he’s able to contort himself into positions that honestly make both of his parents throw up a little in their mouths with the split-second panic of “OH GOD OUR BABY WAS BORN WITHOUT BONES!!”  DX DX  They’re both usually just fine tho!!  :D

As noted in an earlier post--but I want to say it here too--Twist’s first word was “Bang!” and Ty’s first word was “Fuck!”  Twist was the first one to talk, though, and it made Striker and Blitz second guess the context of his first word by the time Ty said his. XD

Another thing that was noted in another post but I want to put it here too is that Twist and Ty have incredibly high self esteem and both Striker and Blitz wouldn’t have it any other way

Twist is dyslexic and so gets easily frustrated when he has to read a book, but he love love LOVES the hell out of stories.....and so Ty is almost constantly making up random stories to tell him

This actually also works out well in Ty’s favor because Ty’s attention span is about as short as Blitz’s patience and he has a lot more fun telling stories than he does sitting still long enough to read the ones that other people made up unless it’s a book about something he’s reeeeeeally interested in

It’s also made Ty hella good at bullshitting on the fly, which I think most of the older/adult members of his family wish he was a lot less convincing at

Twist knows how to lie and is a natural at acting, but his flair for the over-dramatics tends to give him a way a lot easier than his twin

They both have what I’m calling a “hierarchy of obedience” within their family which really translates into a range of “eh I can think about maybe listening to this person sometimes” to “oh SHIT I need to listen to this person 5 fucking minutes ago”.  For Twist, his hierarchy of obedience is: Millie --> Blitz --> Striker --> Loona --> Moxxie.  For Ty, his hierarchy of obedience is: Loona --> Millie --> Blitz --> Striker.....and Moxxie doesn’t even make the list for him because honestly I’m pretty sure Ty just naturally tunes him out most of the time and not even fully on purpose.  As he puts it: “You just have one of those voices”. XD

Ty can sleep literally anywhere and on anything.  I’m pretty sure there have been mornings where Blitz and Striker have to play the game of 'Where the hell is my kid??' because they THOUGHT that he went to sleep in his bed like their other child did but NOPE they go into their room in the morning to get them out of bed and are just like, “.....Twist where the hell is your brother??” and Twist just gives an innocent shrug and says, “I don’t know--probably on the roof or something.” u3u and goes out into the kitchen to make himself breakfast--and then two seconds later Blitz and Striker hear him calling out “NEVER MIND!  HE’S IN THE OVEN!!” and that starts off a whole new kind of panic because they know damn well that Twist’s favorite thing to have for breakfast is cinnamon rolls XD

Twist’s laughter is infectious--this really cute witch-like cackling that just bubbles out of him in the most adorably genuine way when he’s that delighted about someting

Ty does this adorable thing where--when he sticks his tongue out at someone--he flicks it in a very snake-like fashion and even gives the tiniest of hisses in lieu of a raspberry when he does it

Ty also manages to twist himself into the most uncomfortable-looking positions when he sleeps but rest assured, he’s never been more comfy

Twist’s tail never stays still.  It is constaintly flicking to and fro, back and forth, swishing and swirling like a cat’s tail, and he loves flicking it in front of people’s faces to get their attention

Twist in general doesn’t really stay still very often but the one time he did was when Ty broke his arm--and then he spent almost every moment of the day and night plastered to his side because he knew it was driving Ty crazy not being as mobile as he usually is while having to wear a cast

The twins really don’t ever go that far apart from each other.  If you look and only see the one, you can rest assured that the other one is around somewhere nearby and it’s probably not a good sign for you if you can only see the one.

Ty is much more of a biter when it comes to self-defense and Twist always goes straight to using his claws

Twist is the outwardly more protective twin and is vicious with his words when defending his brother.  He will force every last ounce of moisture out of your body from how hard he makes you cry.

Ty, on the other hand, will fuck you up hard physically if you try to hurt his twin--and Lucifer himself would not be able to save you if you actually do hurt his twin

As they get older, and their sexualities and gender develop and grow, Twist would discover that he’s a nonbinary he/they homosexual panromantic and Ty would discover that he’s a genderfluid he/she pansexual homoromantic

The above being said, both Twist and Ty wholeheartedly say “fuck you and your gender norms” from a very young age and well into their teenage and adult years, with Twist enjoying painting his nails and Ty carrying all of his stuff around in a purse--and they both have a preference for wearing high heeled shoes [Ty because he just likes being tall in general and Twist because he likes being specifically taller than his parents because it drives them crazy XD]

Twist and Ty’s best friend is “Missi” [Moxxie and Millie’s eldest daughter, Missile] and she’s honestly an absolute hero for putting up with as many of their shenanigans as she does

Whenever they go out on family outings, Twist is that kid who just NEVER wants to leave--and so Blitz usually, after spending ten minutes of trying to get him in the damn van and Striker even using his Dad Tone (TM) and that not working, will just be like, “Alright kiddo, I tried playing nice.  You asked for this.”  And he puts his fingers to his mouth and whistles with a, “Loona Sweetie?  Fetch.” >3 And Loona gets the BIGGEST grin on her face and Twist gets the biggest “oh shit I’m so fucking screwed” look on his face and Ty--who’s honestly probably very awkwardly coiled up in Striker’s arms because after a long day of family fun he’s tired af and decided that he doesn’t want to use his limbs anymore--just kind of looks over at his twin and says, “I believe in you, but also maybe try to run faster than last time” u3u

I think that they would both love their Auntie Barbie a lot and she would have soooooooo much fun teaching them different circus tricks--especially how to yeet each other back and forth on the trapeze XD

I also think that their Auntie Barbie would really love just how close they are.....and probably inspire her to make up for lost time in her relationship with her own twin too

For some reason I can’t shake the thought of the twins being great at acapella and I have no idea why but I’m also ttly here for it XD

In school, I feel like Twist’s favorite class would be Art [he loves to paint and happily makes all kinds of messes with his “expressing creativity”] and Ty’s favorite class would be P.E./Gym [because he loves testing the limits of his physical body]

Family game nights are always fun in their household because usually what happens is Twist and Ty team up against Blitz and Striker, and while they’re in the middle of duking it out, Loona ends up getting a monopoly on every street and is just like, “Pay up fuckers.” u3u

Moxxie and Millie both love and hate babysitting for the twins because on the one hand, they love them to pieces and love seeing how well they get along with their three kids, but on the other hand.....the twins keep finding Millie’s strap on and putting it on their middle child [Mark]’s head and calling him a “cockicorn” XD

Ty’s favorite food is ramen noodles and Twist spent three weeks [and probably set their kitchen on fire at least twice] learning how to make them with JUST the right flavor profile that he knows his brother likes the best

While I think both of the twins know that they can talk to their dads about anything, I think that they still keep their most personal thoughts reserved only to themselves and each other

Twist’s favorite type of weaponry tends to be more of the flashy ‘sharp and pointy’ kind whereas Ty’s favorite type of weaponry tends to be more of the aggressive ‘point and shoot’ kind.  However I honestly kind of think that in terms of what they’d use themselves in the field, Twist’s primary weapon of choice would be a whip [though he would definitely have some throwing knives and handheld revolvers in his back pocket too] and Ty’s primary weapon of choice is honestly poisons.  Assume that everything this kid has that he throws at you--be it a knife or a bullet or even a fucking cannonball--is poisoned somehow.

They both definitely play wrestle like Blitz and Barbie did as kids.....and just like Blitz and Barbie, they also get their horns tangled together more than once and need to have someone come rescue them.  There’s almost always a photo taken that gets posted to Voxtigram first tho. XD  

There are plenty more headcanons where this came from but I feel like this is already waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too fucking long so I’m going to go ahead and stop here for tonight!!  If you guys are interested in hearing more about these two, please please please feel free to let me know and I’d be happy to write up a Part 2 to this, or just overall write up a quick little oneshot with them in it, or if you want to send me specific questions about them that I can answer, feel free to do so!!  Thanks so much again and I hope you guys have as much fun reading these as I did writing them up!! <3 <3

[mikaze-discord]

Class S: Love letters

This is the Class S+ Cecil love letters!! 

Please enjoy under the cut

TOKIYA ICHINOSE 

From Riri:

Maybe it was his midnight-blue hair, or perhaps it was his ocean eyes, but the very moment I laid my eyes upon him my mind immediately thought, “Wow, he’s very good looking… charming... I really like his vibe.” That was the first reason why he piqued my interest, rather, the initial reason why I fancied him. My eyes were drawn to him and the fact that Kay bombarded me with a truckload of his pictures didn’t help at all, I just fell deeper into the hole. But as if that wasn’t enough, she started spamming me with utapri songs and I fell in love immediately. They are all such good singers but there’s one of them who sticks out to me the most, as expected, it’s Tokiya. His voice has this intricate and refined softness that seemed to caress my ears and touch my soul. He has such a sweet (and might I add a handsome) voice, kudos to Miyano Mamoru for that.

So I started watching the anime and through that, I got to know him better. At first, he seems cold with an air of loneliness and uneasiness dawning on him. But as the series progresses, I discovered that he’s a good-natured, warm, and dedicated person who loves singing and music with all his heart and all. He’s hardworking, dedicating everything to his craft. He has pride in it, so when he was told that his singing has no ‘heart’ it affected him a lot. That caused a lot of distress in his system, and the fact that his company is pushing him to pursue other things than being a singer added to that. His passion for his craft is burning, a fire that no one could put out. That’s one of the things that I love about him. He’s dedicated to everything he does. He’s a perfectionist but he’s also a caring person who cares a lot about the starish members. He’s genuinely a good person but that doesn’t mean he’s perfect. He strives for improvement and development all the time. He helps the members whenever they need. Most importantly, his attitude towards his passion is respectable and admirable.

I might’ve said a lot of things but I guess that only means I love a lot of things about him. He’s such a beautiful soul that inspires me to be more dedicated to my passion, to make my dreams come true no matter what it takes. His path towards his dream was rough, it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows but that’s life, isn’t it? Despite that, he kept walking towards his dream. He’s admirable, respectable, and irresistibly loveable. That being said, I love all the things that made his character; that made Tokiya Ichinose be the kind of character that he is right now.

PS. Miyano Mamoru played a big part too. His insane talent gave life to Tokiya’s character.

From @poorlydrawnutapri:

When I first watched the Utapri anime like 6 years ago, having a best boy didn't cross my mind. At first, I was just most interested in Tokiya out of all the boys because I just thought he looked cool. I liked how mysterious he seemed and also, his hair, probably just because it was blue tbh. Either way, good design.

However, what really got me attached to him wasn't his looks. I then liked Tokiya's serious personality. I like how he starts off cold and stoic but how throughout the games and anime, he slowly softens up. I didn't just like his personality, I could also relate to his perfectionism and hard-working side, even when he exhausts himself, which is something I admit I also have. I continue to relate to him now after all this time, and that's why he's such a good character to me.

Besides that, his songs are nice to listen to and he has just a very pleasant voice. It's nice just to go listen to his voice after a long day. In a way, liking Tokiya also got me into the whole Utapri franchise: made some friends, made a couple of good memes, all that kinda stuff.

Also, I feel like it's a crime not to mention this so: he thicc. Like, dang, no wonder the guy only eats salads because all the fats he eats goes straight to that ass of his. (I am sorry that you had to read that.)

Overall, I just think he's neat. To me, he's relatable and has a nice character development. Tokiya is and will continue to be my best boy. :)

REN JINGUJI 

From @incorrect-jinguji-ren:

Ren Jinguji, the 5th member of Starish is without any shame my favorite character of the Uta no prince sama series. Though often disregarded Ren is and always will be my most favorite and I firmly believe that he has one of the most, if not the most depth in his character. I love Ren a lot however because of his surface charismatic attitude he is usually labeled as a “playboy” or a “lothario”. This is not correct and it should never define him, as he actually is one of the most gentle and compassionate characters of the series. Ren has a very deep surface characterization and personality that is never usually recognized unless you truly take the time to understand WHY Ren acts the way he does, and WHY he makes the choices that he makes. My favorite part about loving characters is being able to accept them for their demons and embrace what others would see as the “imperfections” in them. That Is the best way to truly love them. I love Ren because of his motives, choices, and most of all his passionate loving heart. Although the pain he hides and the personality of who he really is, is hidden under a mask of charisma, he never loses himself deep within.

He’s misunderstood, but he’s beautiful. He’s so deep, from the everlasting devotion to loving his passed on mother, to always cherishing memories and the past bond he had with his childhood best friend Masato, to going against what his brother wants of him because he wants to fight to have a choice and to be passionate about something that he wants to love, because HE wants to love it. Ren didn’t have the love that a lot of people had at such a young age, he made a path for himself and along the way succumbed to the human faults that we all falter from within the hardest times in our life or even dicult events. He almost gave up, just as I know many of us had almost done before, as I know and can relate to, and still do now.

But he dusted himself o and picked up where he left o, making himself happy from once the feeling of being a hollow shell with no reason why he even existed to realizing that the most important thing in the world to him was cherishing the people who made him see the world in colors and seeking the choices that had been stripped from him at such a young age. He broke free from the chains of his family, his past, and his regrets to spread a beautiful pair of rose wings, his own wings to fly. And I hope he always flies. I will always love him, and wish nothing but the best for him whatever that be.

From @chips-and-vodka:

Ren Jinguji- the sexy, charming and flirty member of the STARISH boys. The youngest of the Jinguji family, a troubled child who grew up without a mother. A person who possesses many charms and is blessed with the gift of beauty. A red rose he was, beautiful yet his thorns are to be avoided. Beneath his passionate and seductive mannerisms there is a boy that craves genuine affection, from the one he truly adores and cherishes.

Ren Jinguji to me initially was one with a beautiful, attractive deep baritone, who is voiced by none other than the legend- Suwabe Junichi himself. The voice is an accurate fit of how this stereotype of a charming bishie should be, youthful and sensitive, and at times warm and seductive. His portrayal brings out the appeal of the character, the emotions and thoughts a troubled young adult such as the ‘useless third son’ lived through. Many would see him as a romantic one, one who showers those around him with attention and passion. Within however lives a rebellious soul who distrusts many, but still somehow desires that ray of sunshine that brightens his lonely soul.

Ren Jinguji is one that deserves real love, someone who appreciates him for who he is.

SYO KURUSU

From Jules:

Why do I like Syo, huh? Well, there are a lot of reasons! Some of them are more personal ones. First of all, Syo has always been my best boy, since UtaPri (the anime) exists. So ten long years now.

His fashion style is the first thing I noticed and it immediately intrigued me. I remember that my first thought, after seeing him in season one, was “Woah, he looks really cool!” even though Syo was just in his school uniform! I think what also made me interested in him was his energetic persona. The way he looked up to Ryuya Hyuga and wanted to follow in his footsteps was really sweet to me as well. Syo’s enthusiasm and positive attitude actually encouraged me to become stronger in a way too, if I’m being honest. I, personally, have always found his songs motivating and they made me feel better. I really came to love Syo in his episode in season one. When he talked about his childhood and how weak he was, I really felt with him. From that moment on I cheered him on and Syo definitely became my favorite character. My interest never wavered over the next seasons either.

I also have personal reasons why I love him so much. I just feel very connected and relate to him a lot, y’know? We have quite a few things in common. Syo and I have the same eye color, we have both played the violin since we were little, and were born weak and with pretty much the same health and heart issues. I like to say that Syo “saved” me, which is true. There is also the fact that the blonde and I are both on the shorter side (and regularly get teased for it), too! Though, I’m even a little shorter than him.

But to be more positive again, there is just so much more to him than meets the eye at first! Syo is more than just the stereotypical short sporty character. He really cares for his friends and wants the best for them. Syo’s friendship with every STARISH member is different but still close. He’s also protective of the ones around him. Syo really cares about his little twin brother too, which can be seen in the games and the few times he talked about him in the anime. Syo’s big heart easily balances out his, sometimes, tsundere behavior and I love him for that. This blonde idol is just a great guy and deserves all the love he’s getting and more.

Seriously, stan Syo Kurusu, guys!

From Vic:

Syo Kurusu is my favourite idol within the utapri games and any other form of media pertaining to the franchise. He is my favourite idol because of several factors, one of which being that his voice actor is Hiro Shimono, who voices Zenitsu from Demon slayer and Lucifer from “Devil is a part timer”. Syo is a very outgoing character and is talented in many aspects athletically. Born with a heart disease, he continues to persevere throughout the myriads of life’s problems in front of him.

He’s extremely outgoing and is proficient in the martial art of Karate and desires to strengthen his body more than what it is currently. He is best friends with Natsuki and can communicate with each other proficiently. Syo is my favourite character within the franchise because of his resolve, perseverance and great chemistry with Natsuki and his teammates. Hiro Shimono did the character justice by making his voice one of young, adventurous and energetic. With that said, Syo is a character I truly enjoy within the franchise and wish to see more of him.

CECIL AIJIMA 

From Anon:

Greetings, princes and princesses, and welcome to a world of princes, questionably talking cats, and magic! I’m of course talking about Cecil Aijima, our foreign prince of UtaPri! So, why do I like Cecil Aijima? It’s borderline ridiculous, but it’s because of Cecil’s birthday. More specifically, Cecil’s Birthday Cruise card. But, I should start at the beginning.

Back when I first watched the anime, I thought Cecil was a little bit of a brat towards literally everyone, and one of my least favorites at the time. After watching through the rest of the anime though, I started to like him a lot more than I did before. To me, he had matured a lot after season 2, and never turned back to that bratty self. And so, when playing SL, he might not have been my favorite, but I didn’t hate him. Then, that one fateful day, I decided to pull in his birthday gacha. To my surprise, I had gotten the card in my first pull! Then the story dragged me into the Cecil Appreciation Group. I thought the story was incredibly cute. Then I got more Cecil cards so I could read more stories. Then the cycle repeated itself again. And now, well, if I’m writing this, I think you know what happened to me afterwards. I’ll be here, doing my best for him.

From Eden: 

The boy with childish like demeanor but continues to have a heart of gold for his friends and wonderful composer.

I remember first watching Utapri in middle school and questioning. "Well shit- this is my life now..." and I didn't really have a favorite character at the time. I was always bouncing between characters like Syo, Otoya, even the teachers. However it was season 2 that made me realize who my true favorite was. Despite his at first cocky nature when he was first introduced, Cecil to me was amazing! His singing was magical, his origins even more fascinating. You wouldn't think Utapri would turn that down the magic route but it somehow did.

As the seasons went on, and as I got more into the series, he just became more of a love to me. His kindness and child-like nature and curiosity, he felt different than the other characters.

I love the other characters, yes but him?

Something about him just felt right! He not only seems to be a protector for those he cares about but also feels like he would be the best person to be around. Always wanting to do anything new and exciting just to peak his curiosity and to learn more. Ever since then, he has always been my favorite. The one and only Annapolis Prince, Aijima Cecil.

[songbirdsingingthings]

Lovely Night - Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS, THEY BELONG TO KOHEI HORIKOSHI

This oneshot was inspired by the song Lovely Night from the musical La La Land. It’s such a cute and funny song that I thought it would work perfectly for Bakugou and a reader who are not super fond of each other, but figure out they have feelings for each other. I put a lot of hard work into this oneshot and I’m super happy and proud with how it came out. I hope you all enjoy! And, if you would like, feel free to open up youtube and listen to the actual song while reading, or look up the lyrics to see where I used and or changed some of them to fit within the story! So, without further ado, ENJOY!!! 

WARNINGS: Realistic Fluff, Some Swearing

Word Count: 2608

It was no secret to the rest of Class 1-A. Y/N L/N and Katsuki Bakugou just could not stand each other. Y/N hated how loud and abrasive he was, and might she add that he was like that for absolutely no reason. She hated how much he would boast about his quirk - I mean seriously, it was like he was six years old and he was talking about the expensive action figure he got for his birthday! But, most of all, she hated how attractive he had to be. There was no denying that he was strikingly handsome and had a very well toned body, but something about the way that he actually took the time to make himself presentable struck a chord within Y/N. Of course, Bakugou’s parents were fashion designers, so maybe he was just conditioned from a young age to look presentable. 

Bakugou hated how structured and uptight Y/N was. He genuinely thought the girl had a stick up her ass for the entirety of her life. To him, she was like a drill sergeant, dictating who should go where in a team takedown. Granted, she was right almost all of the time, but that didn’t stop her from being annoying about it. Although, however much he hated her those previous reasons, he hated her the most for how undeniably gorgeous she was. She, unlike some of the other girls in class, wore little to no make up during the day - which he himself thought was a smart decision, who knew when a villain could attack and cause sweat to make your mascara run? Her Y/H/L Y/H/C hair was always in a style that he found incredibly flattering on her and her Y/E/C eyes were just striking. 

Their conflicted, no matter how strictly negative they tell themselves they are, feelings for each other caused quite a few ruptures in group activities. Whether it was going after each other in laser tag - even though they were on the same team -, not cooperating on group projects for school, or making a huge mess in the dorm kitchen trying to prove to the other that they are the superior chef, they were at each other's throats. The latter wasn’t so bad for the class, they actually made some really delicious food, but Aizawa was pretty mad about the flour on the carpet and the dried batter sticking to the walls and stovetops. 

Coincidentally, the entirety of class 1-A was at a group dinner this evening, celebrating their completion of their final written exams. Jokes and anecdotes were exchanged as waiters brought the class delicious food. Y/N’s eyes lit up as a woman brought over a platter of Y/F/F. Eagerly, she piled 2 or 3 servings onto her plate.

“Oi, L/N, stop loading up on the Y/F/F, you’re not the only person here! Besides, you’re gonna look like a stuffed turkey by the end of the night!” Y/N had to admit, the last part of his insult did sting a bit, but she couldn’t give him an inch.

“Oh, bite me Bakugou. Besides, isn’t it past your bedtime?” Y/N said, smirking at him with a sassy look in her eyes while pointing to an analog clock that read 9:30 p.m. . Scowling, Bakugou just turned his back towards her and started chatting with Kirishima instead. 

“Nice one, Y/N.” One of Y/N’s best friends, Jirou, said as she gave her a high five. Feeling very accomplished, she smiled. 

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t Y/N’s best idea to have that much food to eat. Y/N’s stomach cramped pretty badly - so badly that she had to thank whatever godly force was looking down on her that made her wear a pretty fit and flare dress to dinner. If she were wearing regular pants, that material would not feel great against her somewhat bloating stomach. Excusing herself to the bathroom, she relieved herself and thankfully felt much better afterwards. Y/N straightened out her pretty yellow dress and ran a hand through her hair, making sure to comb out any knots. As she made her way back to the table, only a couple people remained. Everyone must’ve gone back to the dorms already, Y/N thought. Of course, she thought as she found the one person who walked back into the restaurant. Everyone had left except for Bakugou.

“Where the hell did everyone else go?” He asked, clearly pissed. Rolling her eyes, Y/N crossed her arms. 

“If I had known everyone was leaving I would’ve gone with them Sherlock. I was in the bathroom so I didn’t see them. Where were you?” Y/N asked.

“I was outside taking a call. Dammit!” He cursed, grabbing the jacket on the back of his chair and pulled his arms through it. Sighing, Y/N took a look at the clock. It was 12:30 a.m. . You have got to be kidding me, she thought. “Well come on. Let’s get going before it gets any later.” He said bluntly, walking slowly out of the big glass doors.

“What do you mean “let’s”? Y/N asked, kind of shocked that he implied that the two of them would be walking back together. Now it was Bakugou’s turn to roll his eyes.

“I’m not going to let a girl walk alone at this time at night, no matter how much I might hate her guts. Who knows what creeps are out there. Now, let’s go.” He says a bit more sternly this time. Y/N quickly grabbed her little white purse from the back of her seat, swung it around her shoulder, and walked out after him.  The only unfortunate thing about going to the restaurant that the class decided to go to was that there wasn’t a cab in sight. The class decided to take the bus which by now had left hours ago. That meant that Y/N had to trek back to UA in heels that pinched her toes. Trying not to make a sound, she clenched her jaw and her fists and forced herself to keep walking on the hard concrete. However, about twenty minutes into their walk, Y/N accidentally let a little squeak of pain slip out of her mouth. Bakugou, who was a little bit in front of her, turned around to get a look at Y/N. 

“What the hell was that?” He said, stifling a laugh that wanted to make itself known. To him, this was kind of hilarious. Never had he heard Y/N willingly show any sign of weakness, and here she was literally squeaking in pain because of her damn shoes.

“Nothing, come on let’s keep walking.” Giving Y/N an unbelieving look, he led her over to a bench that overlooked much of the city. He had to admit, it was a pretty spectacular view. It would have almost been romantic - the stars were shining down on the sparkling city, lights that worked so well together. However, it was absolutely not romantic, because he was here with Y/N, and it wasn’t some other girl and guy. 

Y/N was sat down, slowly taking off her heels to reveal several nasty blisters. She hissed as the cool, almost chilly, night air met her marred skin.

“Why do you girls wear shoes like that if they only make your feet hurt like hell.” Bakugou said. Y/N sighed as she began to take off her other heel, this time on her right foot.

“Because,” she said as she gritted her teeth, “I think they make my legs look pretty freaking hot.” Finally, she pulled the second one off and set it next to its partner. “Also, I didn’t think that I would be walking a lot tonight.” Bakugou did have to admit - the shoes really did accentuate her legs in a very attractive manner. He also noticed, don’t ask him why, that she had taken the time to shave her legs. 

“Well it’s just the class, why did you feel the need to get all done up?” Bakugou’s question struck a nerve within Y/N. She felt her face heat up. Why did she feel the need to get all done up? She would have looked perfectly acceptable in a nice shirt and skirt, maybe even a cute little romper with sandals, but instead she went for a pretty dress and white heels. Then, it dawned on her. Oh my God, I did this all for Bakugou, she thought . Underneath all the layers of competition, disdain for his habits that weren’t as annoying now, and arrogance, Y/N liked him. She found herself noticing more of his other positive habits. He made sure to walk her back home, even if she wasn’t his favorite person, made sure to make her take a break when something was hurting her, and now, asking questions that weren’t aimed to make her look like a fool.

“I-I uh…” Y/N didn’t really know how to answer Bakugou’s question. What do you say to a boy that you’ve basically hated for an entire year that you now have a crush on?

Woah, Bakugou thought, did Y/N actually just stutter? And why was it kind of… cute? Bakugou thought to himself. Nah, I don’t feel like that. It’s just really late at night and I’m sitting next to a pretty girl on a bench that basically overlooks the stars. I do NOT think that way.

“Pretty view huh,” Y/N murmured, a small smile donning her face as she surveyed the city that lay beneath them.

“Yeah, I guess so. Kind of sucks that it’s you and I here instead of other people that could actually enjoy it together.” Bakugou says, looking away from the girl. Scoffing, Y/N gives him an incredulous look. How could I ever think I have feelings for this guy? She thought, I mean, that was just him being a straight up asshole! 

“You and I would never work,” Bakugou says, out of the blue, “I mean you’re not even my type.” Y/N could almost feel flames shooting out of her head.

“Oh yeah?” She scoffs, glaring at the boy.

“Yeah. What a waste of a freaking night.”

Grabbing her heels, Y/N forces them back on, stand sup, and walks right up in front of him.

“Let’s make something clear, Katsuki Bakugou,” Y/N says, giving Bakugou a look that he believes could only be rivaled by himself, “I make the calls around here. But, you are right, I would never fall for you.” Bakugou doesn’t know why, but a tiny part of his heart aches when she says that. “And even though you look pretty good in that... polyester suit of yours,” Y/N begins to say.

“It’s. Wool.” Bakugou snaps back, standing up so that he was now taller than her, “this in no way appeals to me. Maybe it would interest a girl who is not currently having her feet be cut up by her heels, or a girl who actually believes that this could’ve been a spark to romance.” Y/N says, her face now inches away from the blonde’s. “You were right. What a waste of a lovely freaking night.” 

With their noses almost touching, Bakugou just reacts on mere instinct. He almost couldn’t stand to be this close to Y/N without touching her.. The perfume that Y/N wore was intoxicating to him, invading his senses and telling him just do it! Kiss her! It’ll make everything better! And, with no one there stopping him, he gave in. He roughly grabbed her check with his right hand and the back of her neck with his left, and crashed his lips into hers. Y/N’s eyes widened so much, she thought that they were going to pop right out of her head. But, something about kissing Bakugou just felt so damn right. Y/N closed her eyes and kissed him back. Her arms somehow found themselves wrapped around his neck and made their way into his soft hair, pulling at the blonde locks as he worked his tongue into her mouth. It was like fireworks were going off at the same time as she was riding a rollercoaster. It was exciting, it was energizing, and it was warm. Bakugou’s arms now made their way and wrapped themselves around Y/N’s waist, pushing her as close as possible to his chest. Y/N’s knees wobbled at this action which made Bakugou smile into their kiss-turned-make out session. Y/N smiled as well. Finally, it got to the point where the two of them had to separate and take a deep breath. Their foreheads were leaning against each other and their arms were still firmly wrapped around each other.

“I think I like you.” Y/N whispered, making Bakugou smirk.

“You think?” He murmured back, rubbing his thumb against her waist.

“Okay, I’m pretty sure.” Y/N said, giggling. Finally, Bakugou pulled away just enough so that he could make full eye contact with the Y/H/C haired girl in his arms. 

“I’m pretty sure I like you too. But don’t think I’m letting up on anything. Your ass is going to be kicked in the next cooking competition.” He says arrogantly, however this time Y/N found his arrogance somewhat cute. She rolls her eyes and gave him a smile. 

“Yeah, okay. Sure. Keep telling yourself that.” Y/N stepped back from him, grabbed her little purse that she dropped due to all the activity, and began walking back in the direction of UA. Bakugou jogged up to Y/N and stopped her in her tracks. Giving him a smirk, she says, “What Bakugou, couldn’t get enough?”

“First off, it’s Katsuki to you now,” he says matter-of-factly, making her cheeks dance with red, “and you’re not walking back on those deathtraps of yours.” He leans down and gently slips her heels off and gives them to Y/N to hold. “Now c’mon, let’s go home.” He says, kind of sweetly this time. He motions for Y/N to let him give her a piggy-back ride which she gladly accepts. With her fingers hooked in her heels, Y/N lets her head lay against Bakugou’s, no, Katsuki’s, broad shoulder. She presses a gentle kiss to his neck which makes him stop in his tracks.

“L/N, if you keep on doing that sappy shit, we’re not gonna be able to make it home tonight.” He says bluntly. Y/N couldn’t see his face from the angle she was faced, but she could just tell that he was blushing.

“First off, it’s Y/N to you now,” she says, mimicking his previous statement which makes him chuckle a bit, “and I just couldn’t help it. But, carry on walking, I seem to remember a sparring match tomorrow that I need to be well rested for.” Katsuki rolls his eyes and continues walking. The two make small talk for the rest of the trip home about Y/N’s home life - not Katsuki’s, he’s not super ready for that yet, - and life in general.

“I was wrong before.” Katsuki says, making Y/N’s giddy face morph into a confused one.

“Wrong about what? There were several exchanges that we have had in the past hour.” She says, concerned that he was talking about when he revealed his feelings for her.

“It’s not a waste of a night.” He says sweetly, making Y/N grin from an ear to ear. “It’s the perfect way to spend a lovely night.”

[pepethehobbit]

A Second Chance

Based on this gifset by @azozzoni .The dialogue between Jens and Lucas at the start is completely taken from the gifset. (Thank you for inspiring me to write this and for allowing me to post this! I hope you like it!)

Also on ao3.

“So now you finally know what it's like to be stood up. About time someone is making you check your ego,” Robbe says cheekily. It's accompanied with a gentle push of Jens' shoulder, probably in an attempt to lighten Jens' mood.

It's not working.

Jens simply scoffs and looks back down to his text messages with Lucas. His last one still unanswered even though he send it on Friday, three days ago now. He is staring at it maybe in hopes of Lucas finally texting back. All it does though is stare back at him, mocking him for his hope.  

You could've at least send a text.

But Lucas didn't. There has been nothing but radio silence on Lucas' end for the whole weekend. The whole weekend Jens fought with the urge to send another one, wanting to ask him why he didn't just say no, why he agreed to a date when Jens had finally collected his courage to ask him out, after weeks of what Jens thought was mutual flirting. Not only that but Lucas' confirmation came with an excited nod of his head and an elated smile, that made his ocean eyes shine with anticipation.

He was so excited when Lucas has actually said yes, so happy that he didn't read the signs wrong, that the little dance around each other and all those stolen glances meant something, that Lucas was actually interested in him. Jens feels so stupid. Whatever feelings made him say yes must've vanished in the meantime or, as Jens has not allowed himself to really think about, must've simply never existed.

The first half an hour he was a little worried but still chill, Jens doesn't have the best track record with punctuality either. At the forty five minute mark he started to worry a little more and had send the first text, asking him if he was okay, if something happened. When he didn't get an answer to that after another hour Jens had finally accepted that Lucas simply wouldn't come, that he has been stood up. Which is when he send that last text.

He called Robbe instead, who immediately picked up with worry in his voice, knowing that Jens was supposed to be on a date with the boy who his best friend couldn't stop talking about in the last few weeks. They had a good old fashioned sleep over and even with Sander there, it was exactly what Jens needed to not wallow in self pity. He really, really liked Lucas. When he first saw him enter the classroom, introduced by the teacher as a new student from Utrecht, he felt this inexplicable pull and this inability to take his eyes off him. His pulse quickened when those eyes were set on him and a tiny, surprised smile pulled at the corner of Lucas' mouth.

The rational side of Jens can't make sense of it, especially when his brain supplies with him with enough memories of Lucas that made him so sure that there was something between them. The blush on the other boy's cheek when Jens had reached out to tuck that one curl behind his ear, claiming that he had something in his hair. The way Lucas' hand would brush against his one too many times to be a coincidence. The compliments that Lucas would accept freely and give back with a smile that made Jens want to kiss it off. That one time he almost did.

He is too lost in his thoughts to notice someone approach until he hears Robbe's voice next to him: “Look who's coming this way. The boy who broke Jens' hea-” Jens quickly slaps Robbe's arm to stop him from finishing that sentence. There is no way that Lucas needs to know how hurt he was by him.

Jens has a hard time trying to figure out what Lucas' expression could mean. He looks apprehensive, as if not sure what to do or say now that he is actually in front of Jens. What he settles on only infuriates Jens a little bit more. If only because the answer to the question is most definitely yes, despite how much Jens tried to forget about Lucas over the weekend.

“Hey, you miss me?”

Jens doesn't give him anything, tries to keep his reaction to a minimum. He raises his drink to his mouth and takes a sip, letting Lucas cook in the uncomfortable tension between them.

“I'm sorry I didn't come the other day. I can explain.”

At this point, Jens' disappointment, anger and wounded pride prevent him from actually wanting to know the explanation. He also doesn't want Lucas to think he still cares. It would be nice if he could convince himself of that as well.

“No need. I get it,” Jens says, voice cold and final. The pained look on Lucas' face momentarily makes him want to take his words back. But the memory of waiting for him in the skate park for nearly two hours makes him stick to his decision.

Lucas holds his gaze for a few more seconds, looking defeated and sad and Jens nearly breaks. But then he simply turns around and walks away. Jens watches his retreating form with a thoughtful expression, still fighting between the feeling of having done the right thing and the regret for not letting Lucas explain.

Robbe's “Maybe you should hear him out” is not really helping him sort through his confused feelings. “Shut up, Robbe,” Jens replies more irritated than he meant to.

“Jens, he looked really–”

“No, Robbe. Just drop it. I don't wanna talk about it anymore. Are we going to skate or what?”

His best friend eyes him with a concerned expression, probably considering if it is a good idea to push right now. He must decide against it because he simply shrugs his shoulders, sets down his board and skates off, looking over his shoulder to check if Jens is joining him. Jens tries to shake off his confusing feelings and follows his best friend.

* * *

It's only in the evening when Robbe has already gone off to his date with Sander that he sees the messages. He wishes his best friend would still be here, so he could advice him what to make of it.

Jens, I'm really sorry.

Please give me another chance.

I swear I can explain, something happened but I don't want to tell you over text.

He sounds sincere enough, but what could've happened that he can't just explain over text? Admitting that he simply doesn't feel like that about Jens would probably be easier to text. Cowardly, but easier. So maybe it's not that? Maybe he is saying the truth and something did really happen. But again, he couldn't even write one single text message for the whole duration of the weekend to explain or even apologize?

Either way, the regret of not letting Lucas explain has won over the certainty of having made the right choice since the skate park. If Lucas is as sincere as his message seems to be he deserves a chance to explain and after some consideration Jens is willing to give him one. He just hopes Lucas doesn't break his heart a second time.

Tomorrow after school?

The answer comes immediately, even though Jens has responded nearly five hours after Lucas' initial message.

Thank you, Jens! I hope you can forgive me.

Part of him hopes the same thing and an even smaller part, not ready to be acknowledged or questioned, tells him that he already did.  

* * *

It was nerve wrecking seeing Lucas at school the next day. They only have one class together so at least that made it easier to avoid him until the end of school today. But during that one hour Jens was so distracted by the presence of the other boy just two tables ahead of him that he has a hard time even recalling the topic they were talking about. It didn't help at all that Lucas has turned around to Jens every few minutes, catching him stare at him every time. Lucas had send him a shy smile the third time it happened and Jens was too weak to look away until the teacher called on him and he was at a loss of words. He tried his best to ignore Lucas the rest of the lesson after that.

When the last bell of the day rings, Jens reluctantly gets up from his seat next to Robbe, who sends him an encouraging smile and says: “It's the right choice Jens. Everybody fucks up sometime. He seems honest, I don't think he would have stoop you up if he didn't have a very good reason. I've seen the way he looks at you. There is no way that he didn't want to go on that date with you.”

It does little to actually settle his nerves but it does give him hope. Robbe has always been way too perceptive for his own good and he trusts his best friend's intuition more than his own right now. “Thanks, Robbe,” Jens replies, his voice stronger than he expected considering his nerves. He doesn't even know why he is that nervous. All he has to do is listen to Lucas' explanation and decide if he wants to forgive him.

Robbe nudges his elbow into his side and nods towards the school gate, where Lucas is already standing, looking over at them, fidgeting with the sleeves of his pink jumper which stick out under his jean jacket. He seems even more nervous and that actually helps Jens to calm down a little bit. At least he is not in the position where he has to explain himself. He simply has to listen.

Jens turns to Robbe, says his goodbyes and makes his way over to Lucas, his pulse quickening with every step he gets closer to him. Once he reaches him he doesn't know how to start this conversation but he also thinks that maybe this isn't his responsibility right now. He looks at Lucas expectantly, raises his eyebrows, silently asking him to begin.

“Can we not talk here? We could go to the little park around the corner?” Lucas asks timidly, still fidgeting with his hands, avoiding Jens' gaze. Jens would actually rather not, would like to know sooner rather than later, but he guesses somewhere more private would be more comfortable for both of them. “Sure, lead the way.”

The walk there is unsurprisingly very silent. What is surprising though, is that it's not entirely uncomfortable or awkward. Jens did not realize just how much he missed just being in Lucas' proximity. He was in general a very chill person but, as every ordinary person, still had thoughts and  anxieties haunting him. When he had spend time with Lucas though, his mind was completely quiet. With Lucas everything had felt so easy and uncomplicated and sure. Well, until now. Even though the silence is not uncomfortable, it isn't exactly comforting either, making Jens' thoughts race with possibilities of what Lucas is about to explain to him.

Lucas is leading them to a swing set and sits down on one of the seats, swaying back and forth with his feet on the ground. He looks up at Jens and motions him to sit down next to him on the other swing. Jens does, wanting to turn towards Lucas but choosing against it, thinking maybe it would make it easier for him to tell him, if he doesn't feel like Jens is watching him, maybe choosing the swing set for this exact reason.

“My mom is ill. She has bipolar disorder.”

Whatever Jens was expecting, it definitely wasn't this. Before Sander and Moyo and Robbe, he may have reacted differently, but he learned through them and has at least an idea what this actually means. Lucas has never mentioned his mom before, Jens notices now, not once in the four weeks they know each other now. He only knows that he moved here with his father and he figured if Lucas would want to talk about his mother he would someday tell him. A vague idea is developing in his head about how this relates to their situation now and he feels a sense of regret for how he reacted when Lucas first came to explain. But it's clear to see that the last thing Lucas needs right now is to make it about Jens.

“Okay. And how is she now?”

Lucas turns to him, seeming surprised at that reaction. “Do you know what that means?”

“Yeah, Moyo's mom is bipolar, Sander too. I thought he already told you?” Lucas turns away from Jens again, seeming confused and caught off guard at the revelation. Jens gives him a minute to adjust this to the picture of Sander he is sure Lucas already had in his mind. Out of all the brothers Sander was probably the one closest to him (excluding Jens). “No, he didn't,” Lucas simply states, seeming a bit lost now.

“So, how is your mom?” Jens asks, trying to get the conversation to what is was originally about. Lucas looks up with a calculating gaze as if to try and figure out what to make of Jens' reaction.

“She had a manic episode on Friday. She called me and from the sound of her voice alone I could already tell that she was manic. But what she said made me freak out even more. She said that she misses me, that she doesn't have a car right now but that she could simply walk to Antwerp, that she only called to let me know that she was on her way. I…, I managed to avert her from that idea, promising her that I would make my way over there right now. By the time I arrived she was mostly out of it, but… but then the depression has already hit. Harder than I have ever seen with her before. I tried to take care of her as much as I could but I just … I just couldn't do it alone and I had to call the hospital where she had already stayed once. They came to pick her up on Sunday which is when I went back to Antwerp. I just left her there all alone.”

Lucas' voice sounds thick and heavy with emotions and when Jens looks up, his eyes are filled with  tears, not yet ready to fall. A heavy feeling overcomes Jens, seeing Lucas so sad and overwhelmed with guilt. He wants to reach out, comfort him in any way but he is not sure if Lucas needs that right now. Instead, he tries to recall a conversation he had with Moyo once.

“Lucas, it's not your responsibility to take care of your mother. You did the best you could do in a situation you shouldn't even be put in. I'm sure your mom knows that and wouldn't want you to beat yourself up about something that isn't even your fault. You could not have prevented your mom from getting an episode.”

“It is my fault though, Jens. Don't you understand? She had a manic episode because of me, because she missed me and because I haven't been there to take care of her when she needs me. I –”

The tears have started to roll down Lucas' face. Jens reaches across the distance to take Lucas' hand in his, making him stop mid-sentence, eyes shining with vulnerability.

“Luc. Stop.” Jens tries to make his voice soft and understanding, but firm enough that his words will get through to Lucas. “She is not your job. She is your mom. You shouldn't have to be there just in case she has an episode. It's her illness, not yours. Whatever triggered her episode, it wasn't your fault. You shouldn't be her caretaker.”

Lucas meets his gaze, looking conflicted and looks down again at where Jens rests his hand on his. Jens is about to take his hand away, interpreting this look as discomfort but then Lucas is slowly turning his hand around so they lay palm to palm and gently intertwines their fingers. He shudders at the cold feeling of Lucas' simple silver ring on his skin and his heart starts beating faster but he simply squeezes Lucas' hand softly and sends him a reassuring smile.

“That's what Kes is always saying,” Lucas admits quietly and with his free hand he brushes away the fallen tears on his cheek. Jens smiles at that, who knew Lucas could be this stubborn.

“And we are both very right. This is too much for any teenager to handle.” This wins Jens a soft scoff but there is also a small smile tugging at Lucas' lips so he counts that as a victory.

“How do you know so much about this?”

Jens thinks about how much he wants to say because it doesn't really portray him from his best side but Lucas has been so honest with him and it's the least he could be in return. “Well, I don't know if you know this, but last year Robbe's mom got admitted into a mental health facility. It was pretty bad, I think even worse for Robbe. He had to stay over at my place a lot of times, even before that happened and even though we spend a lot of time together, I didn't really…, well I didn't really notice how much Robbe was suffering. And then the shit with Sander happened and I realized what a shitty friend I have been the last year or so. And then when Moyo told us that his mom is also bipolar I was so shocked that I didn't even know that about one of my best friends. I tried my best to make up for that, tried to show my support, googled a lot and asked Moyo if I could ask him some questions. He basically told me what I told you.”

Lucas' prolonged silence is making him a bit anxious and when he is finally meeting his gaze he looks at him with an expression Jens is not sure how to interpret. But then Lucas smiles fondly, squeezes his hand and says: “You are an amazing friend, Jens.”

Jens has to duck his head to hide the small smile, pleased that Lucas still sees him like this. He has never been good at accepting genuine compliments, ones that are about his personality instead of his appearance. Mostly because he is probably still struggling with the guilt of not being there for his best friend and the whole mess with Jana. “Thanks,” he mumbles softly.

Lucas doesn't respond and the silence stretches on for a few peaceful minutes. They swing gently back and force on the swing, both of them seeming to have no intention of letting go of the other's hand.

“I'm sorry for how I reacted when you came to talk to me yesterday. I should've let you explain. I was…, well, I guess my pride was quite hurt that you stood me up,” Jens admits after a while with a small deprecating laugh and looks over at Lucas even though he is worried about the reaction.

“Jens, you have no idea how much I wanted to go on that date with you. I was over the moon when you asked me. Believe me, the last thing I wanted was to ghost you, I'm the one who is supposed to apologize here,” Lucas says disbelieving, as if Jens doubting Lucas' feelings for him was the most stupidest thing he heard today.

It makes Jens smile uncontrollably, unable to hide it away from Lucas fast enough. He gets up from the swing to stand in front of Lucas, takes his other hand in his as well and pulls at his arms, motioning Lucas to stand up. Lucas looks up at him smiling but with questioning eyes. Jens simply pulls again and doesn't step back when Lucas enters his space. Their faces are close and Jens is tempted to close the distance when his eyes track the motion of Lucas's lips falling open slightly. But then he tears his eyes away from Lucas's lips and moves on to his eyes. They are still a bit wet from the tears and it makes his blue eyes sparkle like sunlight on a clear mountain lake.

“So, about that date. Wanna have a second chance at that tomorrow?” He can see Lucas trace the movement of his lips with his eyes and it makes Jens' pulse quicken. When Lucas finally meets his gaze again he looks hypnotized and a little breathless he asks: “Sorry, what did you say?” It makes Jens laugh, happiness overflowing with how obviously Lucas is distracted by him. He is scared that Lucas is hurt by the laugh he couldn't stop from bubbling out of him but he just looks up at him with a smile that is so beautiful it makes Jens' heart skip a beat. He lets go of one of Lucas' hand to brush a stray curl away from his face and it has the desired effect of the lovely blush spreading over Lucas' cheeks.

“Do you want to go on a date with me tomorrow?” Jens repeats and lets his hand fall to back of Lucas' neck, gently caressing him with his thumb. The smile he gets in return is almost as blinding as the very first time he asked Lucas that question. It makes Jens feel giddy with anticipation.

“Yes. I absolutely want to go on a date with you tomorrow,” Lucas answers and even though Jens was pretty confident that the answer would be yes, the actual confirmation makes him even giddier. This time it's his eyes that can't leave Lucas' lips and he finds himself closing the distance as if pulled in by an irresistible force. Jens' nose brushes against Lucas' and he feels his eyes fluttering shut when he feels a warm gush of breath across his lips. The moment their lips finally touch Jens lets out a quiet satisfied sigh and he barely has time to feel embarrassed about it, because Lucas simply puts his arms around Jens' shoulders and pulls him even closer. The movement of his lips against Jens' is soft yet urgent, careful yet demanding and Jens melts into his arms. He buries his hand in Lucas' hair and gives it an experimental little pull. The reaction he gets nearly makes Jens forget that they are still in public. And even though the playground is empty he gives Lucas a few lingering pecks before he takes a step back, ignoring the quiet sound of protest from the other boy, moving the hand from Lucas' hair to gently stroke his cheekbone.

He can barely take his eyes of Lucas' kiss swollen lips but he knows that he should go now, otherwise he won't have the strength to let go of Lucas. “I should go,” he whispers quietly into the little space between their mouths. It looks like Lucas wants to protest but then he purely gives him a last gentle kiss, nothing more than a soft press of lips and steps out of Jens hold. “I'll see you tomorrow then?”

Jens smiles and nods, takes a step back as well, their hands still holding on to each other not wanting to let go. With each step back he feels their palms sliding together, then their fingers and lastly their thumbs before Jens pulls back for good, making him trip a little bit on his last step back. He sends Lucas a giddy smile, not feeling even slightly embarrassed and Lucas lets out a small huff of laughter, shaking his head slightly before he turns his back on Jens and walks in the direction they came from. Jens watches Lucas' retreating back for a few more seconds before he makes his way home as well. Somehow, he can't stop smiling for the rest of the day.

[blissfulbroadway]

Alfred Nathaniel Hallam III Headcanons!!!

YES his name is Alfred Nathaniel Hallam yes he is a third no I do not take criticism

Childhood:

- Alfie got pneumonia as an infant. It messed up his lungs A Lot and affected his immune system and stuff as well so as a child he was constantly sick. 

- He was in and out of hospital a lot and had a few surgeries so he was always on bed rest and isolated to everyone until he was about four years old. 

- All of his medical issues caused his mum, Elizabeth Hallam, to dote on him a lot and suffocate him a bit. His father, Alfred Hallam II was the opposite and became pretty detached from being a father figure to Alfie. 

- At a very young age, Alfred was introduced to stories since he couldn’t go anywhere. He was constantly reading in bed and learning often. Also his father made him study German just for funsies. 

- His grandfather Wally, or Alfred Hallam I, introduced Alfred to Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland when he was three. Wally re-enacted the story to him in hospital a lot, and it inspired Alfred to fall in love with the story and take on the characters as his own. Wally got him his own copy after an especially difficult surgery, as well as a stuffed rabbit called Baby because he’s a three year old and it’s his little baby bunny :-) (he still ends up traveling with it as an adult and can’t leave without him). 

- Around that time, his parents had his little brother, Elias (named after their mum) to be a backup plan or new start because they didn’t think Alfred would be much worth to them in the future. Yes they are shitty I know :/ 

- His parents have very very very high expectations for him because he’s now the older brother who has to do everything and he’s not their spoiled sick baby boy. They let Eli be a little shit and do anything he wants (like any little sibling but multiplied by like 10) while Alfie was expected to be the perfect child who dressed, acted, looked, and spoke the way they wanted. 

- Alfie and his parents are very posh sounding because they live in Bromley, but he has a slight northern twang because of his grandfather. His parents hate it. 

- When he’s four years old, after a long period of bedrest, Alfred is allowed to play alone outside, and he meets Alice. They refer to that day as their Golden Afternoon because it was the day they became the best of friends, and Alfred introduced Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland to her. (At first Alice was probably like Who are you and what are you doing in my backyard and Alfred is just SO EXCITED to introduce his favorite storybook in his entire existence so she budges and let’s him share his world with her)

- Alfie is a huge bookworm and while he adores learning and reading, his infatuation for learning mathematics (mostly so he could impress his father and maybe he would love him more if he knew “Big Kid Things” yes I know 🥺🥺🥺) manifested into an obsession with time, as well as the fear of being late or running out of time. He was surrounded by the idea of death from a young age and it influenced the way he thought about himself and what might happen to him if he didn’t listen to his parents. Their pressure brought out his anxiety disorder and depression at a very young age and it sticks with him throughout the rest of his life. His escape from all that death and sadness was Alice’s Adventures because he could always reset the clock at the end of the book and start again. 

- When he’s five, Alfie spends some of his rich kid allowance on a copy of Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland for Alice, and in return she buys him a pocket watch a few years later. He adores it and never ever takes it off even as an adult. 

- Alfred avoids his own home a lot and spends time with Alice in their conjoined backyard, playing pretend and acting out their story together. Sometimes, they spent the days inside her house (Mama Hallam is good friends with the Spencer parents, so she doesn’t mind them watching Alfie) and Alfred is well acquainted with Mr. and Mrs. Spencer enough where he considers them paternal figures...sort of. (Mr. Spencer is lowkey highkey Alfred’s bisexual awakening, and he’s one of Alfred’s first crushes; it doesn’t help that his own father constantly criticizes him and his interests or is absent from his life doing slimy rich man things. Daddy issues.)

- Mr. Spencer is a book lover (possibly librarian? Also sometimes professor :-)) and so he’s constantly discussing stories with Alfred and Alice on an intellectual level fit for the both of them. Most adults treat them like small children, so Alfred loves the attention. 

- When Mr. Spencer dies in their early teenagehood, Alice and Alfred get incredibly attached to their storybook, and they find more comfort in it than ever. His death launched Alfred’s struggles with eating and sleeping, as well. 

- This is one of the harder periods of time for Alfred, as he and Alice didn’t have any friends aside from each other. They’re incredibly codependent on one another. 

- Mamie Van Eysen flirts with Alfred a lot during this time, but only as a joke. Either that, or she makes fun of his body and his personality—both in front of Alice, to make Alfred uncomfortable and Alice jealous. Other students bully him and Alice often. 

- A lot of Alfie’s self image issues stem from this time, and his anxiety and depression worsen. 

- When Alice’s mum dies when they’re fifteen, the pair runs away together. Alice almost gets assaulted, and Alfred wants to protect her. He gets into a giant fistfight with the older man. It’s bad enough to the point where the man is arrested and Alfred is hospitalized; it’s the hardest period he’s ever spent in hospital, even after all of his childhood issues. The police bring Alice and Alfred home and Alfred is banned from visiting Alice for a while. They communicate by speaking through the windows straight across from one another, or holding up signs from the window seats. While Alfred is healing, Mama Hallam is extra overbearing and critical to the point of being toxic and unhealthy for Alfred. His brother gets really mean around this time, too, as he doesn’t get the attention he once had. His and Alfred’s relationship get really rocky, and it’s never really mended in the future. 

- The day Alice and Alfred can officially reunite, they never separate and they’re stuck at the hip from this point forward. 

- When Alfred isn’t hanging out with Alice, he is at his grandfather’s hat shop, helping him stock or sell products. He puts his money towards a secret emergency fund in case he runs away again—this time without Alice. Alfred can never get past the front door, though. 

University:

- When they reach uni, Alfie majors in mathematics and education, and minors in literature and statistics. He finds joy and love in his studies again, even if school itself affects his mental health. 

- Alfred doesn’t want to be dependent on his parents, so he gets a job at a coffee shop and writes essays on the side for money. His caffeine addiction is dangerous at this point, and he often finds himself not eating or sleeping until it’s physically impossible not to take care of himself. 

- Alfred puts all of his money towards renting an apartment with none other than Miss Tabatha Dedwin!!

- He and Tabbie are flatmates. Since Tabbie is best friends with Dodgy Dawkins, he meets him, as well. They’re friends for good after that, and that’s when Alfred starts to wind down, smoking with them, as well as his Alice. 

Adulthood:

- After university, Alfred gets official treatment and is able to change his eating habits and caffeine addiction. 

- Alfred learns about emotional support animals and gets a Giant Flemish Rabbit named Ollie to be his support animal. He’s giant and blue-eyed and looks like the spitting image of Alfred’s beloved White Rabbit. He’s a cutie. 

- Alfred also did a little bit of gardening when he was getting treatment, and once he’s home he gets all sorts of plants and becomes a Plant Dad (with lots of research, of course!)

- In his mid twenties, Alfred finishes his extra schooling and becomes a primary school teacher. He blossoms into a happy, mostly healthy bisexual man with lots of plants and a sweet pet bunny and he wears funky disastrous outfits and has an amazing support system!!! (Alice, Wally, Tabs, and Dodgy :-) also Wally’s lover Denny the carpenter who comes out to Alfred when he’s an adult. He’s super shook but he gets even closer to Wally because they’re more similar than he believed)

- When he’s prob like 30 he goes to more school and becomes a university professor in the end of his years! Depending on who he ends up with he possibly has a few kids and a bunny and life is good!!! He’s teaching and learning constantly and it’s the life he’s always wanted even if his parents never accept his Christmas cards and his brother doesn’t answer his calls. He’s happier than he’s ever been. 

- Also don’t tell Sage but when Alfie’s older his health problems catch up to him and he dies a relatively young death due to complications with his lungs :-( rip to my main man Alf

Little Headcanons:

- Alfie is the Biggest animal person besides maybe Tabbie. The ONLY exception is geese because one time he tried to feed a goose was brutally attacked by a goose and is afraid of them. He prob does birdwatching in his free time too 

- Alfred’s fashion is HORRENDOUS @dodgefred and I made it up forever ago that he was a fashion disaster and ofc Colton’s costume...moving on. The reasoning for his fashion is he just picks pieces that make him happy that day and he sticks with it it doesn’t matter if he matches he’s just vibing.

- He reads his kids bedtime stories and he’s so devoted to being the father his own dad never ever was - When he becomes a professor it’s probably to teach Calculus and while his class makes people cry Very Often Alfie as a teacher himself is very very empathetic and comforting and yeah math is a bitch but he’ll take time out of his lunch breaks and extends his office hours way past the set time to help a student!!! He’s such a comfort to LGBT+ students and he probably has a few he discusses gay discourse in literature with (Tabbie absolutely introduced him to lesbian literature also also this isn’t a Tabs post but she stans Shakespeare :-)). Professor Alfie is the weird quirky prof. who stresses you out sometimes but also he goes on long tangents about his interests and how much he loves his significant other or children or baby bunny child Ollie!! He has so many plants and books in his classroom too it’s a Lot.

- Wayyyyy into theatre but he didn’t pursue acting onstage because his dad is homophobic :/ but he was in charge of lighting in school productions and fell in love with the stage

- He helps his friends study by acting out their textbooks for them and they always always ace their tests

- MUG COLLECTOR!!! He has so many mugs it’s not even funny his entire cupboard is taken over by them honestly 

- Virgin who can’t drive 

- Such a cursed and baseless hc I’m So Sorry but his first crush was the tomato from Veggie Tales 

- Going off the last point he grew up in a Catholic household and he had one of those mums who was like you are Not allowed to watch tv unless it’s like. Veggie Tales or the Little Einsteins

- Alfie plays piano!!!! Also he did ballet when he was younger but he left because it was super bad for his mental and physical wellbeing and is convinced he’s a bad dancer because of his poor experience with the art

- Alice calls Alfred her Bunnie and he calls her My Alice/Allie/Allie Cakes

The end :-)

[pl-panda]

Damienette arranged marriage: Part 8

Credits: Miraculous Ladybug team for the elements I take from MLB show. DC for their characters, @ozmav for the AU, @maribat-archive for giving me access to so many different stories to have take inspirations from, @thyladyanput for idea for Chat Damian and me for the plot.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Damienette arranged marriage: part 8

NEXT

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“Children. Chloe wanted to say something to all of you.” The teacher started.

“Yes. I wanted to apologize for my utterly ridiculous behavior in the past and hope that you will give me chance to earn forgiveness from the better part of you.” Chloe stated nonchalantly.

----------

The class exploded into murmurs. Chloe was standing there. It was probably the first time Marinette saw her actually uncomfortable. The blonde was often irritated, tense or even uneasy, but not in this way. She was looking ashamed, but not with her actions. Both damian and Marinette were quite good at reading people and they could tell that Chloe was sincere in her apology.

Alya finally broke from her murmuring with Lila, stood up and looked at the blonde. “How can we know you actually changed. For all we know this might just be some scheme of yours to get Ladybug to trust you again and give you a Miraculous back!” She accused her.

“Yeah! You were always just mean and self-centered. Why would you want to change now?!” Kim shouted.

“You are just sad that Sabrina finally decided not to stick with you!” Rose also joined this

“I can’t believe I stuck with you for so long!” Sabrina huffed and turned away not to look at Chloe.

The blonde looked distraught at the class. She knew that just by apologizing she would achieve little, but Chloe hoped that at least they would not shun her completely. The last few weeks were hard. Now not even Adrien talked to her anymore. A single tear formed in her eye.

“Don’t try playing on our emotions witch!” Alya shouted with anger. “We are all past your lies and manipulation!”

“I estimate ninety percent chance that this is all a plot.” Max stated calmly. 

Lila didn’t say anything aloud, but she was smiling in a twisted way that could be even called evil. She only watched as Chloe was slowly being torn apart by the class. Soon Hawkmoth would get a very strong Akuma.

“You were never even my friend!” Sabrina shouted.

“We don’t want you here!”

“Go to New York and stop bothering us!”

“You are just sad, pathetic bitch!” Alya fumed with anger. How dare Chloe try to manipulate them into liking her again.

Tears streamed down Chloe’s cheeks. She collapsed onto the floor and sobbed. Marinette decided that this was enough. She jumped from her place and walked in front of the class. “What is wrong with you?! Don’t you see you are hurting her!?”

“Shut up bully! You are even worse than her!” Kim didn’t care what the blunette said. 

“Yeah! The two of you are worth one another! Both of you should get lost!” Rose was also not holding back with insults

“No.” Alya said. “Marinette is worse. At least Chloe doesn’t try to sleep with random guy just to get Adrien’s attent…” She didn’t finish when a metal pen suddenly embed itself right in front of her at least an inch deep in the desk.

“That’s enough from you.” Damian growled. He then walked down with hand twitching. Probably the most irritating thing was that the teacher watched this whole scene and didn’t bother to react.

Marinette kneeled next to Chloe. “Don’t worry about them. They are not worth getting akumatized for. Listen to me Chloe. Everything’s all right. I… I forgive you. I saw that this was sincere.” 

The blonde looked up, still having tears in her eyes. “Dupain-Cheng? But… But I was the worst to you...”

“But you try to change. And…” Marinette felt something wet hit the back of her head. She touched it and realized that someone spit at her. 

Damian’s eyes were cold fury. He was so focused on the scene in front of him that he stopped paying attention to the class. He slowly turned to them. A silent anger burned in his eyes. Most people in the class flinched and some tried to sink in their chair. Juleka looked particularly guilty Damian noticed. But Alya and Lila were completely unfazed by him.

“tt. I will say it once, and very slowly so your collective one brain cell understands it. I do not care about any one of you morons. I do not want to make friends with anyone of you because you are not worth it. The only person in this whole class that so far I consider valuable is Marinette, which she proved this very moment. So I will make it crystal clear. Back. Off.” He growled.

“You are protecting two biggest bullis and dare talk to us about worthiness?” Alya refused to shut up, which in other situation would be a risk to her health, but by sheer stroke of luck Damian ignored her and instead turned to Marinette.

The blunette helped Chloe up. “I don’t think she is emotional state to participate in the lesson right now Madame Bustier. Can I walk her out?”

“If you believe that’s best for her.” The teacher stated with a smile. Damian held the urge to growl again. Instead, he just followed Marinette. “And where are you going, young man?”

“I need to make a call to my brother.” Damian stated. Luckily, he was here under fake name so they had no idea who his brother was. Teacher didn’t say anything.

-------

Outside of the class Chloe hugged Marinette tightly, crying yet another river of tears. “Thank you Dupain-Cheng. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

“I-it’s okay Chloe. I couldn’t just let them talk to you like that.” 

Damian watched the whole situation with awe. He was focused on planning ways to slaughter the class and make it look like unfortunate accident, but Marinette instead chose to comfort the victim. She did not care about what they said even when they spat on her and insulted her instead. Justice, not Vengeance. Even after five years he had trouble with comprehending this idea. But Marinette lived by it. Right in front of his eyes she comforted someone who bullied her for better part of her life. Damian too knew that this apology was genuine, but he would not be able to forgive so easily. It was almost naive from Marinette to do so.

“I… I don’t think I want to return there. At least not today.” Chloe stated. She slowly calmed down. “They were ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous!” Marinette smiled at Chloe’s catchphrase. 

Damian pulled his phone and called someone nicknamed ‘replacement’. After three rings there was an answer.

“What do you want Demon Spawn?” Tim sounded at the other side.

“Call the school and tell them that three students are to be excused for today. We had a situation here. Explain later. Got to go.” Before Drake had a chance to ask for explanation, Damian hanged up and quickly texted him the names.

“Uh… I think that’s not how it works. Besides, I left my things in class…” Marinette stated unsure.

“It will work.” Damian said firmly. “Now let’s go. I will get your things.” He walked inside the class and Marinette heard some shouts from the inside, but Damian walked outside with a grin. 

“You didn’t hurt anyone?” she asked him pretty unsure.

“Believe me I wanted.” He simply stated and handed her the backpack. 

“Who is your friend Dupain-Cheng?” Chloe asked. Marinette smiled with relief. The blonde was already feeling better apparently. 

“This is Damian… Grayson. From yesterday, remember?”

“I wasn’t in class yesterday.” Chloe stated. “I was… never mind.” She stated and started to walk outside. “Uh… Would you like to go with me Dupain-Cheng?”

“Okay. Honestly… I don’t want to go back there either.” The bluenette stated. “And for their own goods it’s best if Damian don’t go in there alone.” She smiled at the boy.

“I swear. I was gone for one day and you got yourself a boyfriend. Only you Dupain-Cheng.” Chloe grabbed Marinette and dragged her with her out of the school. 

“tt.” Damian followed them quickly before he lost them.

-------

They arrived at the Hotel  Le Grand Paris in record time. It wasn’t even noon. 

“Uh… Chloe? Do you have any plan whatsoever?” Marinette finally asked. She stayed silent for the way, instead just switching between sending Damian an apologetic glares and watching Chloe ramble about their class. She knew that the blonde needed to talk all the emotions out. 

“Of course I have a plan. I want to introduce you to my mother properly. Then we can go to my room and I can do something with your clothes… For a fashion designer you dress ridiculous. Utterly Ridiculous!” Marinette had to admit she was not really a fashion icon that day. Her outfit was completely mismatched. She just took first things that she managed to grab and put them on in the rush. She took a second look at her clothes and gave her a sheepish smile. 

“I kinda maybe might have slightly almost overslept.”

“Scratch that. We are going to my room first. I think we wear more or less the same size.” Chloe stated and dragged the bluenette to the elevator. Damian for the whole trip just walked behind them and let two girls solve it between themselves. He decided it was best if he just didn’t intervene. It was… interesting thing to watch. Chloe pretty much ‘adopted’ the girl. And Damian knew better than to step into this situation. Call it personal experience. 

They got into her room and Chloe locked the doors.

“Okay. Now you explain to me Dupain-Cheng how did you manage to get a mysterious Damian Wayne, the damned ‘Ice Prince’ of Gotham,  to act like a lost puppy toward you.”

——————————————————————————————————–

Taglist (sorry if I missed you)@pheonixashtree @sassakitty @unabashedbookworm @vixen-uchiha @maggiecc12 @actualdisasterwoman @tired-butterfly @shizukiryuu @floralfi @imanerddealwith @northernbluetongue @krispydefendorpolice @toodaloo-kangaroo @dast218 @bluesoulblueheart @theatreandcomicfreak @disneyfoxuniverse @mindfulmagics @alwaysnumberonetruth @nyaabinch @jardimazul @lenamau @rosep16 @dramatic-squirrel @sonif50 @daminett4life @lulutheawkwardess @weird-pale-blonde-person @mooshoon @jeminiikrystal @mochegato @moonlightstar64 @dragonflyswing @silverwhiteraven @shamefullove @magic-miraculous @valeks-princess @heaven428 @mlbchaosqueen @winter-gardenflower @spicybelladonna @emo-elaine13 @vetilora @karukofox21 @my-name-is-michell  @sturchling @lokiifriggasonn @redscarlet95 @melicmusicmagic @interobanginyourmom @the-fusionist @razzledazzle247 @miss-mysterys-blog @darkthunder1589 @i-is-mysterious @catthhay @the-one-woman-army @zestyzealot @dahjokester @write-for-your-life2 @mermaidreject @peachedpocky @sassakitty

[dkscribe88]

Tavronica Week Prompt 7: AU

And now, for my final entry for this year’s first annual Tavronica week. I decided to set it in modern times. They’re still on Thra and still Gelfling, but they’ve adopted a way of life similar to humans, including going to college and playing sports, such as ice hockey. Tavra is team captain, single, and focused on helping her team win the final game of a tournament against their rivals, lead by Tolyn. Onica is a Psychology student who recently became single and is dragged to the game by her best friend, Tae. Tavra always seemed like she would be a jock if she were real, and the only sport I really ever played was ice hockey, so I decided to write her playing it. I hope you like this last fic. It’s been a blast writing for this event, and I’m proud to say I met my challenge of 7 prompts for 7 days. Can’t wait to do it all again next year! So now, sit back and enjoy my final entry for this year. Beware, it’s the longest one yet.

The roar of the crowd was deafeningly loud throughout the halls of Ha’rar State University’s hockey stadium. Flooded with fans of both the home team, the Ha’rar State University Fighting Paladins, and visiting rivals, the Sami Thicket University Landstriders; the atmosphere was tense. It was the finals of a two-day tournament. Both top seeded teams played two games the day before, easily routing their opponents. Their head-to-head battle had always been assured, the latter two games merely a formality. Both teams stared daggers at each other whenever the Paladins locked eyes with a Landstrider. There’s bad blood between these rivals, the wound freshly opened after what had transpired a few hours before…

-------

Earlier in the day, the home team had arrived two hours before they were to hit the ice, hoping to do some warmup exercises in their locker room before suiting up, only to discover that the whole place had been destroyed. Bags had been dumped out, equipment strewn randomly throughout the room, and jerseys were being soaked by the showers. Their hockey sticks were no longer in the racks, and no one would have found them, had the team not experienced this sort of attack before. The Paladin’s team captain, defenseman Tavra just sighed before casting her gaze upwards, confirming that the sticks were indeed glued to ceiling.

“Sheesh, they could’ve at least come up with a more original way of wrecking our stuff. C’mon guys, cleanup positions. Ready? Go!” The team quickly got to work straightening things, accomplishing their tasks efficiently, having done so many times before. They kept a scraper and a bottle of nail polish remover taped under one of the benches for occasions such as this, which easily dissolved the super glue. It took a little longer to get everything back in order this time though, as the Landstriders had taken the time to remove the tape from their sticks before gluing them. It was a tedious task, retaping everything, but Tavra and her crew knew everything needed to be perfect, or they wouldn’t stand a chance. STU’s captain, Tolyn the Terrible, did his best to crush anyone that stood in his way, using any means necessary. The Landstriders led the league in both penalties and player ejections. They’d already given four different Gelfling concussions, ending the player’s seasons early, and in one case, ending it for good, the injury so severe it caused brain damage, forcing the player off the team and out of school altogether.

Forty minutes later, the locker room was back in usable condition. Tavra took her place in front of her team.

“Alright! Everyone get in line for warmups. First, we stretch, then after that 20 jumping jacks. When I say go. Ready? GO!”

-------

Meanwhile, at the campus dorm rooms…

“C’mon, Onica! It’ll be fun, I promise. The game is going to be great and there’s gonna be a sick afterparty, with lots of hot gelfs for us to hit on, so let’s go, please? You need a new girlfriend, or at least someone to take your mind off Effiny and I need to get my flirt on. It’ll be good for you to get out.” Tae had been trying to convince her friend to attend the game with her for the last few hours, not wanting to go by herself.

“But I’ve got that test coming up for my Developmental Psychology class and I haven’t even studied for it yet.” Tae rolled her eyes.

“You’ve never had to study for any of your Psych classes before. You know every bit of that material frontwards and backwards, sideways, diagonal and upside down. If that’s your best excuse my victory is assured.”

“But I won’t even be able to get into the afterparty. You have to know someone on the team to attend and I don’t, so I see no reason to go.” Tae refused to give up.

“That doesn’t matter! I told you, I know the goalie. Zili promised that if we showed up, she’d get us in. Zili’s a bit weird, which she claims is a common trait amongst goalies, but she’s also true to her word. Please, I don’t want to go alone.” Tae had been nice so far, but it was time to pull out her secret weapon. She kneeled down next to Onica’s chair, lower lip jutting out in a pout, eyes turned up in a begging fashion, glistening with small tears in their corners. Onica had to give her style points for being able to cry on demand. She tried to turn away, but there was no escaping the power of the fizzgig pout. Unable to fend off the adorably cute assault any further, Onica let out a groan.

“Ugghhh! Okay, fine! I’ll go. But you owe me. More than one.”

“Yes!” Tae jumped up, giving her roommate and best friend a hug. “Thank you so much, Oni! There’s this new guy on the team, Galen, and Zili’s promised to help me get a chance to talk to him. Oh, I can’t wait for you to see him, he’s so dreamy. He’s tall, and Sifa, like us, with some Spriton and Vapra mixed in. He’s got beautiful tanned skin and dark hair with little bits of silver here and there, ooh-hoo-hoo just the thought of him makes me quiver!” Onica gave her friend a look of disbelief and slight disgust.

“Sounds like a creep if you ask me.”

“No! No, he’s not, actually. Zili said he’s really kind and soft spoken most of the time. When he does talk, he’s so deep, and he’s got a great sense of humor, too.” Onica smiled at her then, reassured of Tae’s choice to pursue this guy.

“I can’t wait to meet him, then. I hope you find happiness this time Tae. I’d hate for you to be stuck with someone who doesn’t appreciate you.” Onica’s face turned slightly sullen, then. Tae put a hand on her shoulder.

“Are you talking about Effiny? Onica, that girl has serious issues with where her priorities lie. She didn’t know what she had, being with you. But soon, Onica, someone will come along who loves you for you, I’m sure of it. Who knows, maybe you’ll meet them tonight. So, come on. To the game!” Tae jumped into a pose, pointing dramatically towards the door. Onica gave a small laugh, before getting up and ready for the night’s activities.

The two young women made it to their seats as the two teams warmed up on the ice, each circling around their zone, while some fired pucks at the goalie, who easily blocked them all, giving Zili a confidence boost to start off with. Tavra was gliding along on her skate’s edges, keeping an eye on her own players, looking for signs that each was ready, and smirking when she found they were. She got in line to shoot then, firing right from the line in a slapshot, typical of her defensive position. She’d placed a spin on the puck, causing it to look as if it were warping in the air as it curved toward Zili’s glove side. Tavra nearly got it in, but at the last second, Zili’s eagle eyes tracked it and she caught it neatly in her mitt.

“Nice try, Captain! Maybe next time, yeah?” Zili teased her. Tavra smacked her stick against the goalie’s pads affectionately before gliding off to the back of the line, only to freeze as a sinister gaze met her own.

“Tolyn,” she whispered bitterly. The big jerk was Spriton, tall and strong, or in Tolyn’s case brutish. The sound of ice being carved sounded from behind her, letting Tavra know her two assistant captains had her back.

“That guy almost makes me ashamed to be Spriton.” Kylan muttered, glaring with all he had at the man, who only sneered back.

“Don’t let him get to you Kylan. I’ll make sure he doesn’t hurt you this time. I’d never hear the end of it from my brother if I did.”

“You’re damn right about that, Naia.” Another player had joined the assistant captains.

“Speak of the devil. Hey, Gurjin. You ready to rumble?” Naia asked her brother.

“Oh, you know it. Gotta get revenge for them breaking my poor Ky Guy’s arm.” Suddenly, the scoring siren went off, signaling the players to leave the ice as it’s resurfaced in preparation for the game’s start. The Paladin’s gathered once more into their locker room. Tavra, Kylan and Naia stood up front as everyone else kneeled, waiting to hear some inspiring words from their captain.

“Ok, we’ve got a tough game ahead of ourselves here, people. We know just as much as anyone else that the Landstriders don’t fight fair. Expect attacks from all sides and keep your guard up. Their goalie is weak on their stick side, so do your best to aim at the space between the arm and torso, as well as high on her right side. Stay away from that glove hand, it’s too good. Now raise your swords, gelfs…” Everyone’s sticks rose in the air. “Brave paladins of HSU, are you ready to defend yourselves, your honor, and your school?” The team let out their best roars of approval. “Are we ready to face the beasts in battle, skate blades sharpened, sticks taped?” Another roar resounded throughout the room. The coach signaled for the group to head out for introductions.

“Ok gelfs, charge!” The Paladins stormed out of the locker room, cheering wildly, though it was completely drowned out by the outrageously raucous crowd. The visiting team was just getting finished with their introduction.

“And, at center, the Landstrider’s leading scorer and captain of the team, number 66, Tolyn!” Loud boos overwhelmed any cheers there might have been for the Spriton center, causing him to shake his stick angrily at his many detractors.

“And now, the roster of our very own home team, the Ha’rar State University Fighting Paladins!” The crowd cheered loudly in response. “For the tertiary line, at left wing it’s number 86, Mira!” A thin Vapra girl quickly skated out on the ice, waving to her fans. “On right wing we’ve got number 18, Deet!” A Grottan girl and Rian’s girlfriend skated over to bump gloves with Mira. “And at center, number 8, the incomparable Rian!” The Stonewood skated out strong, charming all the ladies as he waved to the crowd. “For our secondary offensive line, we’ve got our newest player, number 45, Galen!” A Spriton, taller than both Kylan and Tolyn skated reservedly onto the ice. “Coming in on right wing like a thief in the night, it’s number 13, Periss!” The youngest of the team, a Dousan boy with a rakish attitude glided out, taking bows and throwing kisses as he went. “And, at center, number 7, Bold Gurjin!” The great oaf was light as a feather as he slid past his teammates, giving Kylan’s helmet an affectionate smack as he passed him. “And now for our secondary defenseman. On the right, give it up for number 3, Brea!” Tavra’s younger, bookish sister skated calmly into place, absorbing any information she could about her enemies. “And on the left, it’s number 69, ladies let out a cheer for Rek’yr!” The tattoo-faced man skated grandly into place, blowing kisses to his many lady followers, who screamed in response, one of them fainting.

“And now, everybody give it up for our starting roster. On left wing, we’ve got number 4, the mysterious and shadowy Amri!” Amri had already snuck into his place in line at this point. “On right wing, number 32, our ever-melodious Kylan!” The lanky Spriton skated calmly into place, doing his best not to be intimidated at the sight of Tolyn pretending to slash his throat, the universal bully sign for ‘you’re dead meat’. “And at center, number 17, it’s Fierce Naia!” Naia charged onto the ice, letting out a growling war cry as she bumped gloves with all her teammates, nearly knocking some of them over in her zeal. “And starting for the defense, we’ve got number 49, Ellis!” A Vapra senior a few years older than Tavra skated out. “And don’t forget his partner, your favorite player and mine, that devastating lavender tornado, the Tremendous Tavra!” The crowd got even louder somehow as Tavra regally entered the rink, smiling at her comrades and looking disdainfully over at her opponents. “And last, but certainly not least, that eccentric and crazy girl you know and love, the goalie, number 00, Zili!” Zili skated out powerfully in her heavy goalie pads, ready to protect and defend her net with all she had.

“Whoo! Yeaaayuhh, let’s do this!” Zili riled up the crowd even more, forcing the officials to wait several minutes until things died down to start. The Skarith Land’s flag was lowered down over the rink by wires, as the country’s national anthem played. Once it was over, the teams headed for their respective benches while the captains of each team came and shook hands. Tavra took her hand out of her glove, offering it to Tolyn, who merely scoffed at it and took off to his own bench. Tavra looked at Kylan and Naia.

“Well, you can’t say I didn’t try.” The three skated over to their team, who were being given a last-minute pep talk by Coach Madso.

“Alright, lads and lassies, get out there and follow the plan. Don’t let them goad you into penalties we can’t afford. Stay onside, and for Thra’s sake, protect each other. We don’t need anymore broken arms, right Kylan?”

“Y-Yes sir!”

“OK!” Tavra barked. “Sticks in!” Everyone gathered in a circle, sticks placed in the middle, pointed downward. “Paladins on three! One, two, three-”

“PALADINS!” With that, the other lines went to the bench and the starters to their places. The referee checked to make sure each goalie was ready, and the centers faced off. The puck is dropped, and the game begins!

-------

It’s late in the third period. Both teams are exhausted from holding each other to a standstill. Neither had scored so far, and the crowd was getting restless with tension. Back and forth across the ice they raced. Naia had the puck on a small breakaway, Kylan assisting her as they passed the flat black object between each other, desperate to keep it away from the Landstriders. Suddenly, Kylan got pinned to the boards as he tried to dig the puck out from the edge of the rink. The enemy player’s skate kept blocking his stick and he couldn’t twist his body the right way to get it. What Kylan didn’t see was that across the rink, Tolyn had locked onto him. He charged, barreling straight at the unwary Spriton. But just as he was about to slam the music major into the boards, something tripped him from behind. He landed flat on his face, sliding hard into the boards from his momentum. A whistle was sounded, stopping play.

“Number 17, Paladins, two minutes, tripping.” It didn’t matter that Naia had stopped Tolyn from breaking Kylan’s clavicle, she got stuck with the penalty. Now they were one gelf down, on a powerplay in the Landstrider’s favor, at the very end of the game. They only needed to last two minutes, but with Tolyn lurking out on the ice, it might as well have been two trine. Coach Madso called timeout, gathering his brave Paladins to his benchside.

“Alright my soldiers, this is what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna hold the line as best we can. I need Gurjin on right, Deet, you’re on center. Use any tricks you’ve got to be in front of that net. Tavra, Brea, you’re in at D. Tavra, you’ve got the fast slapshot. Everyone else, get the puck into the Landstrider zone, and then get it to Tavra. She and Deet will do the rest. Are we clear?” Everyone nodded. “Good. Paladins on three. One, two, three-”

“PALADINS!” The selected players went to their spots. Deet took the faceoff. When the puck dropped, Tolyn made to tackle the small Grottan to the ground, but when he aimed high, she went low, ducking beneath his arms and skating away with the puck. Gurjin plowed through his opponent, flanking Deet on the right. Tavra and Brea trailed behind, stopping just inside the Landstrider blue line. They skated circles in place, watching the puck bounce back and forth between Gurjin and Deet, trying to thwart their attackers and draw them away from the net so Tavra could get a clear shot. The clock began to wind down. The two-minute penalty passed and Naia quickly skated to the bench, where she was replaced by Amri, who drove hard into the occupied zone to help Gurjin and Deet. Deet passed to Gurjin, who was immediately dogged by Tolyn and his right wing, Lun. Pinned against the boards, all Gurjin could do was kick his leg, which he did, successfully knocking the puck along the boards and over to Amri, who slipped and slid around his attacker like a snake through wet grass. His ears perked as he heard Coach Madso cry out.

“Hey! Get it to Tavra! She’s open! Ten seconds left! Make the pass, Amri!” Amri whipped around, searching for his teammate. Tavra was in shotgun position, ready to take aim as soon as she’s given ammo. Amri flicked the puck over to her. She barely stopped it before pulling her stick back and firing it hard through the air and over the center of the ice. The goalie reached for it…It’s…It’s…CLANG! It’s deflected! But what’s this? SMACK!

The crowd waited with bated breath. Tavra stared forward, dropping to her knees.

Wee-Ooh! The scoring siren finally sounded. It’s good! Deet had indeed been waiting, and when the puck glanced off the post, she was right there with the rebound. Her teammates suddenly surrounded her, giving a group hug and patting her hard on the back, screaming they’d won. Tavra, still on her knees, looked upward, not trusting the scoreboard. It was 1-0 Home, and the clock had one tenth of a second left. The following faceoff was just a formality, as the clock ran out and the siren sounded once more, signaling the end of the game, and of the tournament. Trophies were handed out in a ceremony before everyone started to head home. But, just before the team left the ice, Gurjin shouted to the crowd:

“Victory party at Gyr Hall!” Cheers were heard as they departed to the locker room to shower and change before heading to the party. Tavra took her time cleaning up, in no rush for the festivities. All she wanted was to enjoy the energy rush she’d gotten from a game well-played. But, as team captain, she was obligated to go, at least, that’s what Naia and Gurjin said. Kylan gave her an out, but he was quickly overruled by Rian and Deet, so Tavra had no choice. She would socialize, whether she wanted to or not.

-------

“Tae, do we have to go to this thing? All that crowd noise gave me a headache.” It was Onica’s last-ditch effort to escape the party. Tae just rolled her eyes.

“You’re fine. Don’t be such a drama queen. Besides, Zili knows we’re here, we can’t just walk out on her. There she is, Zili! Over here, girl!” After meeting up with the goaltender, who was just as weird as Onica had heard, Zili escorted them over to Gyr Hall and the party held within. The voices of others were all that was heard within the crowded dorm hall. The music was still being set up, but Gurjin kept interfering to flirt with Kylan, who was in charge of tunes. Zili moved passed them, searching for the boy Tae wanted to meet with. Galen was finally spotted talking to Amri, joining them when Zili called him away.

“Alrighty. Galen, this is Tae. Tae, Galen. Ok, let’s see some love sparks fly. Go on, you two. Scoot!” The two walked off, Tae apologizing to Onica for leaving her there with her eyes. Onica sighed lightly, she knew this would happen. She opted to plop down on a vacant couch, people watching to pass the time. Twenty minutes went by, during which Onica grabbed herself a beer from a nearby cooler. She sipped the bitter liquid slowly, not desiring a buzz, but merely drinking it as something to do. Just as she’d talked herself into grabbing one more, there was shouting coming from the front street. Changing her mind on the drink, the redhead decided to see what was going on.

A tall Gelfling of Spriton descent stood in front of a group of students, some of which Onica recognized as being part of the Landstrider’s roster. They’d had their helmets off when receiving their second-place trophy.

I guess that means the one in front is Tolyn. Not the most attractive of team captains, is he…Onica thought, watching the scene unfold. More shouting was then heard coming from the dorm’s side entrance, before a group of Paladins emerged, a beautiful silver and lavender haired woman at their head. And that must be Tavra. What an attractive Silverling. Perhaps Tae was right. Maybe I should find someone else. Tavra stepped right up in Tolyn’s face, not backing down.

“This is a private engagement, my good Landstriders. Please leave, before things get ugly.” The cracking of knuckles reinforced her words, Naia’s fists providing the sound effect. Tolyn just gave a cocky grin.

“Aww…is the big, brave Paladin afraid one of us Landstriders are gonna hurt one of her friends again? By the way, Ky, how’s the arm?” Kylan grabbed his forearm, defensively pulling it to his chest.

“I-It’s fine.” Gurjin stepped in front of his boyfriend.

“Leave him be, Tolyn. You touch him, and I won’t stop at just your arm.” Kylan grabbed Gurjin before he did something foolish, attempting to calm him down. Tolyn just scoffed.

“Tch! You need to keep a better leash on your Drenchen mutt, Tavra. Kylan betrayed his own, so he’s fair game to us.”

“Oh, my Thra, he changed schools! There’s no betrayal in that. STU didn’t have a music program, so he switched. You can’t fault him for that.” Naia jumped in, standing next to her brother and further blocking Kylan from Tolyn’s wrath.

“I take back what I said,” Tolyn paused. “It looks like you’ve got two Drenchen dogs you need to teach discipline to. You really got your work cut out for you, don’t ya, Katavra.” Tavra flinched at the use of her full name. Only her mother called her that, and when it happened, it wasn’t going to be good. Tavra stared at Tolyn coldly.

“Just leave, Tolyn. You’ve had your fun. Enough is enough.” Tavra turned, attempting to end the incident, but Tolyn wasn’t of the mind to leave. Onica watched as he snuck up behind her back.

“Oh, no. H-Hey! Tavra, look out!” Onica’s warning came too little too late, as Tolyn turned Tavra by her shoulder, only to haul back and hit her right on the jaw with a sickening crack. The poor woman was knocked off her feet, saved from hitting the ground by Gurjin, as Naia charged forward with the rest of the team in retaliation. A fight broke out, the Paladins easily outwitting and out-brawling their opponents, only to chase after them as they tried to retreat. Gurjin had left Tavra with Onica, who had approached to see if she could help. The Drenchen charged into the melee, flinging Landstriders left and right. Brea came over to where her sister lay with a washcloth and ice, handing them to Onica before grabbing her phone to call campus police. The Sifa placed the ice gently to Tavra’s already swelling jaw. The dazed Silverling gazed up at her, a strange smile spread across her face.

“Hmm…I must be dead…” Onica looked at her oddly.

“What makes you say that?”

“I’ve got a beautiful, red-haired angel taking care of me. If this isn’t paradise, I don’t know what is.” Onica chuckled at the rather forward-speaking Vapra.

“Well, I’m afraid this isn’t paradise, but if you’d like, I can care for you a little while longer.” Tavra smiled at her, before suddenly pulling her in for a dazed and clumsy kiss. Onica pulled back, blushing wildly.

“I’d really like that. My name is Tavra. And what is the name of the gorgeous angel that’s caring for me, if you don’t mind my asking.” Onica blushed even further, beguiled by the Vapra girl’s charms.

“I’m-uh…I-I’m Onica.” Tavra took her hand, holding it up to her lips for a kiss nearly missing it because of her dizziness.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, my dear lady Onica. I hope we can get to know each other better, that is, once my jaw stops hurting so much. *Groan* Coach is going to be so mad at me if I can’t practice tomorrow.” Onica placed a gentle hand to the uninjured side of Tavra’s face.

“Lucky for you, my hobbies include learning traditional Sifa herbal Less side effects than regular medications. And I guarantee you’ll be up and skating by tomorrow. Now, let’s get you up and into bed.” Onica helped Tavra to her feet, the Vapra swinging an arm around the other girl’s shoulders.

“You’ve known me less than ten minutes, and already you’re trying to get me into bed. My, my, don’t you work fast.” Onica rolled her eyes, but still laughed quietly.

I think I’m beginning to like this girl. With that last, lingering thought, the two walked unsteadily into the dorm, and into a wonderful new relationship.

-DK

[dickgraysonisnothereforthis]

I Didn’t Mistake Your Finger for the Moon, I Just Chose to Look at You Instead

Tim Drake x Reader Oneshot

The title comes from zen buddhism (maybe chinese? i’m sorry I don’t know), the idea is I am pointing my finger at the moon to show you the moon don’t look at my pointed finger, look where I’m pointing.

Heavily inspired by the play Frankie and Johnnie in the Claire de Lune

***

You can’t believe it’s only 8:30pm, just two hours into the night and you’re already bored out of your skull. Around you, the huge ballroom swirls with sparkling socialites keeping themselves busy by incessantly talking shit and guzzling Bruce Wayne’s alcohol. Everybody has their lips to someone’s ear and a glass in their hand, except for you, which is quite stupid on your part. But that’s why you’re at the bar. 

Behind you, the positively charming laughs of the Wayne Gala’s guests dot the conversations that spill out through the room in concentric circles, rippling over each other in waves that ebb and flow right up until they reach you. Then they stop short, leaving you alone and trying to order a drink from a bartender who seems to be too busy to chat you up out of pity.

Not that you’d do anything with her, obviously. But still. Some attention would be nice.

Christ, you were so shit at knowing what to do with yourself at these parties. You’d think you’d have them figured out by now, but no such luck. Your funeral.

“Hey, have you seen Tim?”

You turn to face the speaker and your eyes fall on Dick Grayson, dressed gorgeous in a sharp suit complete with a dark blue bow tie. He looks incredible, but then again, he usually does. And miracle of miracles, the folks around you are now eyeing you up, trying to figure out if it’s worth skydiving into your conversation to get in a word with Bruce Wayne’s heir. Dick does that to people, has the sort of happy, positive demeanor that makes folks want desperately to talk to him, to be part of his group. You’ll probably never get used to it. Or to how beautiful he is.

“Yeah.” Yeah, you know where Tim is. You resist the urge to point across the ballroom, motioning with your chin instead. “He’s over there, schmoozing with some LexCorp folks.”

“Schmoozing? With LexCorp?” Dick’s face takes on a slightly disgusted hue in the light of the chandeliers.

You shrug. “Schmoozing, making thinly veiled threats, planting the seeds for some light corporate espionage, but not the sort anyone can prove. You know Tim.”

Dick chuckles at that. “I guess I do.” He takes a step away from you, then doubles back. “Are you all right, over here? You look a bit...”

“You can say lonely, Dick, it’s okay,” you say with a bit of bite, too many teeth in your voice, but he’s not wrong. “I’m fine, you don’t need to babysit me.”

His eyebrows raise. “Jeez, y/n, I didn’t mean--”

You cut him off. “No, it’s fine Dick, I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry.” You press a hand to the bridge of your nose and try to take deep breaths. Starting a fight with your boyfriend’s oldest brother is not exactly on your to-do list for the evening. “I am a bit lonely, but it’s cool, I get Tim back in...” you check your watch, a cheap analogue that clashes something awful with your cheesed-up attire. “Eight in a half minutes. Then he’s mine for at least an hour.”

Dick quirks his lips in a half-smile. “You guys time how long he spends doing W.E. business at these galas? That’s--”

“Adorable? Or just anal?” Try as you might, you can’t keep the cynicism from spreading thick over your tone.

“I was actually going to say very Tim,” he says back warmly. You grin at him, bad mood abandoning you for the moment. “It was his idea. Wouldn’t be much of a date if we didn’t spend any time together.”

Dick laughs again. “No, I suppose it wouldn’t.” Across the room, Tim turns away from the circle of business harpies and shoots you an apologetic smile. Dick must’ve clocked it as well. “Maybe Tim’ll turn knight-in-shining-armor and rescue you,” he suggests.

You wrinkle your nose. “I doubt it. As much as I don’t like it, the business stuff needs to get done.”

Dick eyes Tim’s back. “Yeah, something tells me you’d be the one doing the rescuing.” He clears his throat. “Well, I hate to be rude, but I gotta skip out on you.” Dick’s down-to-earth manner of speaking always surprises you, especially because he manages to get away with it at these swanky events. When you do it everyone seems to look at you sideways. “Need to go find Damian,” Dick explains further. “If he’s not antagonizing your boyfriend, he may be up to something worse.”

You nod in agreement. “Go get ‘em, Tiger.”

He sighs. “Yeah, wish me luck.” And then Dick makes his exit, leaving you with seven and a half minutes to wallow before Tim comes back.

You chide yourself a bit, picking up the Gin and Tonic that the bartender had just placed in front of you. Were you seriously going to wallow in self pity at a gala half of Gotham would kill to attend? With Tim Drake as your date? Hundreds of girls and quite a few boys probably daydream about being in your place, especially after he made the Forbes Thirty under Thirty list last month. Still, his spot on the list doesn’t change the fact that exactly no one at this party, striking Dick and the bartender, has said a single word to you.

You stifle a sigh. It isn’t your fault Gotham’s socialites always prove to be uninterested in Timothy Drake’s thoroughly middle-class girlfriend. They had found you just fascinating when the relationship was new and Tim’s move of dating so far below his class had actually made headlines. But, six months later, your novelty had worn clean off. God, you wished you had someone to talk to. You were feeling so small.

Swallowing a sip of G&T, you think back to your first gala at the Manor. The glitter and glamour of the evening had left you breathless, whereas now it’s making you sick. Some parts of the evening never seem to go stale, though. You still love playing dress up in gorgeous clothes and parading around with your boyfriend, who was also dressed up in gorgeous clothes. Tim usually bought your dresses for these events, since there was no way on the planet you could afford them. You’d gotten used to Tim being stupid rich early in your relationship, and it doesn’t bother you that you can never match him in the money department. 

Occasionally, Tim likes to spoil you, although neither of you are too keen on outrageous gifts that are ultimately useless. He tends to avoid getting you things that are overpriced and unnecessary. (Cheap and unnecessary is where you operate. The two of you are currently having a competition over who could get the other the smallest, most useless gift for under two dollars. Your last gift to him had been a yellow plastic shovel that fits in the palm of your hand)

Tim doesn’t like buying expensive, frivolous things on principle, and you don’t like receiving them, also on principle. But if you’re going to attend these galas, you need an expensive dress point-blank, otherwise you’ll stick out like a sore thumb. And you want to attend, you want to be Tim’s girlfriend, public appearances and all. So Tim just has to buy you the dresses, which you secretly love because they’re gorgeous, and you have to accept them, because you can’t attend the gala without them. It’s a neat way for Tim to give you something expensive and make sure you’ll have a need for it. Plus, you know he loves seeing you wear the clothes he’s bought you.

Tonight, however, you’re not wearing one of Tim’s Vera Wang’s or Alexander McQueen’s. You’ve opted instead on something you’d bought yourself, a bridesmaid’s dress you’d worn to a friend’s wedding earlier this year. It just about fits in with everyone else’s attire, and besides, the dress was expensive. You wanted to wear it at least twice. A great plan, except it isn’t as beautiful as some of the other dresses in the room tonight. You’ve recognized more than one from a runway fashion account you follow on Instagram. Nice as your dress may be, it can’t compare with any of those, and every time you see an exceptionally beautiful gown you wonder what you were thinking, wearing a dress like this.

The negative buzzing in your ears dissipates as you catch Tim’s eye again. He’s got the same stupid look on his face he’d worn when he picked you up this evening. Like he’d been punched but he didn’t exactly mind.

“Are you sure you’re my date for tonight?” he’d whispered, after doing a cartoonish double-take at the door of your apartment, because he really is a good boyfriend. “I’m not sure other people will believe it.”

“Of course they will,” you’d scoffed, cheeks glowing at the compliment. “We look good together. You’re pretty stunning yourself.”

He’d look down at his own clothes with a worried expression. “Really?” Following your advice and urging, Tim had stepped out of his comfort zone tonight and was sporting a patterned tux. It’s a dark blue checked with thin black stripes, waistcoat and bow-tie to match. “I think I look like Al Capone.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you look very dapper.” You had taken his hand, then, smiling up at him and leading him out of your apartment. “Charming, even.”

“If Jason’s there he’ll make fun of me. Damian definitely will.”

“They were going to do that anyway. And besides, who cares? I think you look great.”

“I guess you’re the only one that matters.”

“Damn straight.”

He really does look incredible tonight, you think to yourself as you check him out from your position at the bar. Nothing short of beautiful, with the long lines of the tux sitting pretty on his sinuous, willowy limbs and gorgeous frame. His shoulders are holding strong under the fine material of his jacket, and presiding over everything are his sharp cheekbones and even sharper eyes. Which, you note in satisfaction, are now fixed on you as Tim extricates himself from the suits and makes his way to the bar.

“Is this seat taken?” he asks, plopping down next to you and casually hooking a foot around your ankle.

“Nope,” you smile happily, thrilled to be spending time with him again. “I was saving it for you, and as you can see, I had to really fight to keep it free.” You motion around yourself to the people ignoring you. 

Tim winces. “I’m sorry, y/n, if I could do anything--”

“Stop, stop,” you wave him silent. “Don’t worry about it. You’re here now, it’s okay,” you reassure him.

“I don’t like that you end up spending so much time alone at these things,” he says, wrapping an arm around you. “If you even think I’m going to let you come to this thing by yourself,” you say, shaking your head. “Some of the other ones, maybe, but if I don’t make an appearance at The Wayne Gala, capital T, W, and G, the public will think I’m out of the picture.”

“Defending your territory, huh?” Tim grins sidelong at you. “Keeping the society pages off my back, more like.” You shift in your seat, sensing an opportunity. “But maybe I am defending my territory, hmm?” You give him an obvious once over, let lust show in your gaze. “Maybe you’re too pretty to let out of my sight.”

He flushes, color overrunning his cheeks and spilling down his neck and making him look even more edible. You let out a breath. “God, Tim, I could just...” you lean over, easily catching his lips with yours. Holding him there for a just a second, you run your tongue quick over his bottom lip and then pull back, spending a few moments just looking at him, with him looking back. 

You wait for some of the sparkling energy to fade before you speak again. “It’s important to me that you know I’m here to support you as acting CEO.”

He laughs at that, spell broken. “I know sweetheart.” He turns from you to order a drink. “I’m very proud of you,” you say to his back. He rolls his eyes at you over his shoulder.

The bartender makes the drink inside of twenty seconds, because Tim Drake asked for it, and then your boyfriend spends a few more moments staring at you, taking the glass in his hand and eyeing you over the rim.

You meet his gaze. “What are you thinking?” He presses a finger to his ear. “Going off comms,” he murmurs, then surreptitiously fishes the device out of his ear and stows it in his pocket. If you hadn’t known what to look for you would swear he was just running his fingers through his hair and then brushing some lint off of his suit.

“If I’m honest, I’ve spent the last twenty minutes fantasizing about eating you out.”

...what?

It takes a moment for his words to connect to your brain. Then--

“Tim!” you squawk, eyes darting around to make sure no one had overheard you. “You can’t just say that to me in public!”

His eyes meet yours, he looks unimpressed. Tim never has any patience for your prudishness whenever he brings up sex with other people around. “What can I say? The LexCorp people were boring,” and now he’s the one looking you over, eyes slowly working up and down your form. You shiver under his attention. “That’s a very pretty dress you’re wearing, y/n, I think it would look great bunched up around your hips.”

God, confidence is such an irresistible look on him. Despite your better judgment, you decide to play along. Leaning closer, you let one hand ghost over his crotch, cupping him for half a moment as you say “and how do you think the dress will look on your bedroom floor?”

He gasps when you touch him, then smiles brilliantly, eyes shining. You really, really shouldn’t be encouraging him, but you can’t help it. You love him like this, you love the unrelenting force of his desire. You love how much he wants you. 

With Tim, you’ve found that once the idea of sex gets into his head and he sees that you’re game, he’s like a dog with a bone, gnawing and gnawing at you. There’s no stopping him in pursuit to get you into his bed, or car, or the nearest supply closet. And you always find yourself indulging him, because the sex is usually good, but the man himself is even better. You delight in seeing Tim aroused, because as soon as that switch is flipped, the self-control that Tim rigidly keeps in place disappears, and he becomes hypnotically impulsive with his emotions. It took some time for him to get the barriers down, for him to let loose around you, but now he allows himself to be everything all at once. An aroused Tim is playful, awkward, confident, shy, ridiculous, and enthusiastic. You never know what you’re going to get with him, and sometimes he flits from one affect to the other between moments, leaving you breathless.

And you’re more than happy to provide an arena for Tim to let loose, because the only time your boyfriend allows himself to be anything less than perfect is when he’s in your arms. Control rules Tim’s life in the form of some probably unhealthy idolatrous god. As he’s explained to you several times, yes, he actually does need to be this tightly wound, because if he makes a mistake he’ll lose clout at WE. Or he’ll be too slow at night. People will die (he will die.) Insert answer here. 

Which is all true, but it doesn’t mean Tim can’t take a fucking break once in a while. And that’s where you come in. Your boyfriend spends his whole life striving for perfection and punishing himself when he doesn’t reach it, but when he’s with you, he can be anything he wants. 

And one of the wonderful things about sleeping with Tim is so often you get to see everything he wants. Once he’s finally lost control, once you’ve convinced him to put the walls down, he’s like a kid in a candy store. He can do anything, and so he usually does everything.

“Christ,” he breathes in your ear, head still in your fleeting touch, one arm coming to rest on your back. “I think you’ve given me a semi.”

“That,” you say in a sing-song voice, absolutely delighted, “sounds like a ‘you’ problem.” You turn and pretend to walk away, but Tim catches hold of your arm, reeling you back towards him. “You can’t leave now, y/n,” he pleads, eyes dancing. “People are going to look at my crotch and see I’ve got a hard-on, and I can’t endure Cass making fun of me again. C’mon, y/n,” he pouts at you. “I’m your damsel in distress. Save me from the bullies. Dance with me so no one will see.”

You roll your eyes, but come to stand in front of him nonetheless, letting him lead you to the center for the room with his hands on your waist. This isn’t the first time a gala has bored Tim to sexual frustration. “People will still be able to see your crotch,” you argue. “We’ll just dance really, really close together.” As if to prove his point, he suddenly jerks your hips to his, and you all but fall against him. “The song is too fast for this kind of slow-dancing,” you say into his neck, false protests muffled by his suit.

He leans back to make eye contact with you as the two of you start swaying. “That doesn’t matter. We’re young lovers, y/n,” he reminds you seriously. “They’ll forgive us.”

“Young lovers, hmm?” You’re struck again by his confidence tonight, how alluring it is. It’s rare that he’s this sure of himself, but he wears it so well when he is.

“That’s right.” The two of you are silent for a moment, and you contemplate leaning your head against his chest. “You really do look beautiful in that dress, y/n,” Tim says quietly, all joking gone from his tone.

Your cheeks heat at the compliment. “Thank you.” And then, because you’re immature, too, and because Tim isn’t the only one who can flash his sex drive in public, you impulsively say “I bet you can’t guess what I’m wearing underneath.”

This is probably a mistake, but what the hell. You want your boyfriend just as much as he wants you, maybe more.

Tim doesn’t even wait two full seconds before responding. “See, I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I bet I can.” You weren’t expecting him to be so quick on the uptake, your mistake for thinking his boredom hadn’t already driven him to tackle this particular problem.

“It’s warm enough out that you’re not wearing any tights or pantyhose, so the suspender sets are out.”

“The suspender sets are out,” you repeat solemnly, already excited by this new game you’re playing. “Well, hang on, maybe I just wore a set without the suspenders.”

Tim is quick to shake his head. “No, you hate doing that, you’d rather just wear separate set altogether. It’s a set without the suspenders.”

You let out a low whistle. “Got me pegged there, detective.” You see an opportunity, and waggle your eyebrows. “Maybe I’ll have you pegged, later.”

He falters in the slow waltz he’s leading you through. “Really not helping with the semi here, y/n” he complains, and he’s right, you can feel it pressing lightly against you. You roll your eyes. “Fine, let’s go back to you guessing what lingerie I’m wearing.”

He nods, only half joking. Tim loves a puzzle. “Thank you. So none of the suspenders.”

“So none of the suspenders,” you repeat again, and offer him a winning smile when he glares at you over it.

Explanatory monologue in full swing, he says “You normally like to match your dress, but this one’s black, which isn’t very helpful.” All of a sudden his attention shifts and comes to rest on your face. “Are you going to tell me if I get it right, or will I just have to wait and see?”

“What would make it better for you, baby?” you ask, voice sultry as you slide your hips against his.

“I have absolutely no idea. Is it the red one?” 

“Nope!”

“Damn. I love the red one.”

“I know you do, sweetheart.”

He pouts at you, but quickly perks up again. “Here, hang on, I’m going to risk exposing my erection so I can get a better view of your back,” and suddenly you’re spinning, once, twice, three times, before Tim pulls you back to his chest and dips you as the song ends. You’re panting a bit in surprise, and from your position suspended in his strong arms, you can feel one of his hands pawing around at your hip, smoothing over the fabric of your dress.

He pulls you upright as another song begins, a grimace on his handsome face. You reach up to brush some of his hair out of his eyes. “That was inconclusive,” he mutters.

You glance over his shoulder. “I think Bruce definitely got a good look at what’s going on down south.” Your boyfriend’s father is looking rather pointedly at the ground, a pained look on his face.

“I could barely see the lines of the set through your dress,” Tim complains, and then adds “Bruce’ll get over it. Or he won’t. Whatever,” he says dismissively. “Last week I walked in on Selina blowing him under his desk, so now we’re even. What’s way more important is that I couldn’t see anything, why couldn’t I see anything?”

“Aww, poor baby,” you tease.

“Shut up,” he mumbles, before brightening a bit. “I mean, it wasn’t a total loss. I did get a great view of your ass. It still looks fantastic, by the way.”

“Thanks for the update.”

He keeps going. “I didn’t see the lines, but I did get a good feel of your underwear at your hip.” He plants his tongue between his teeth, eyes closed in concentration as you sway delicately to the new song. “I didn’t feel a strap, so I can rule out some of the thongs.” You hum in agreement, arms coming up to wrap securely around his torso in an extended embrace. “It isn’t either of the black ones, or the nice blue one, is it?”

“No, sweetheart, it’s not.”

“Hn.” He shifts his arms, and you feel his slight hand flitting about at your hip again. He soon gives up, discouraged. “The material of your dress is too thick, I can’t feel anything through it.”

You decide to throw him a bone. “I’ll give you a hint: I’m actually wearing another color besides black, and the set matches it.”

Tim frowns, stepping back from you for a moment to look down at your feet. “Your shoes are black too, what are you talking about?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do you want me to ruin it for you?”

“No, let me think,” Tim says, and goes silent, eyes shut. You study him as the actual detective comes out to play. His eyes snap open again, and you clock his gaze going for your throat and ears. No necklace, but you are wearing gold earrings. Tim ignores them and takes your hand in his, examining your rings. He knows you too well to ask whether the set is gold or silver, that isn’t your style. He’s getting much closer with the rings though, and then his sharp exhale is ghosting through your fingers and his eyes are meeting yours again. You give him a proud smile.

“Good solve, Timmy.” He kisses the pad of your index finger. “Nail polish, y/n?”

“Nail polish,” you confirm.

“Why?”

You pretend to think it over, letting your eyes go wide. “Well, I just thought it would look nice, you know? My hand right over the panties, maybe even inside them, if you wanted me to do any of the work on my own.”

His eyes just about bug out of his head at that, and then he shakes his smile back and forth, impressed. Your answering grin is knife sharp. “You’ve got me right where you want me, don’t you, y/n? What am I going to do with you?”

“Anything you want,” you whisper, winding your arms around his neck. “That’s sort of the point. We can get out of here right now.”

“You know I would love, love, to do that,” Tim says, running his hands down your back, “but there’s supposedly a deal going down at 9:30 that I kind of need to be there for.”

“Well, then,” you murmur, “you’ll just have to suffer for another twenty minutes.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” he says drily. The two of you sway in silence for a few minutes before he speaks again. “Hold on, y/n, something just occurred to me.”

“Yes, Tim?”

“Your nail polish is purple, but you don’t own any sets that color. What gives?”

You raise your eyebrows at him. He looks at you for a few moments before his face smooths out again. “You really have it in for me tonight, don’t you? It’s a new set?”

“It’s a new set,” you confirm.

“And I bet you look just stellar in purple,” he says to himself, a desperate edge to his voice. 

“You know very well I look good in everything.” You glance downwards. “How are you doing there, Timmy?”

“Fuck off,” he says happily. “Is it lace?”

“Tim, sweetheart, of course it’s lace.”

Your boyfriend groans, then freezes in place. You look at him questioningly. “I’m running a cost/benefit analysis on me skipping out on this deal.”

“Give it to Tam,” you suggest.

“Give it to Tam,” he agrees. “Yeah, alright, let’s get the fuck out of here.”

You let out a delighted laugh, following him in the direction of his old bedroom in the manor. Behind you, you dimly hear the orchestra finish their song. There are a few moments of silence while you make your way to the exit, and then you hear a few forlorn notes on the piano that have you turning around and calling out “Tim!”

“Whoa, y/n, where are you--”

“Tim! Tim it’s Claire de Lune, they’re playing Claire de Lune, we have to stay!” You drag him back to the dance floor.

“But,” he tries to argue, “but y/n, we were going to--”

“Tim.” You stand your ground. “It’s Claire de Lune. Please?”

He mumbles under his breath but takes you back into his arms regardless, like the good boyfriend that he is. You adore the Claire de Lune, and he’s probably reasoned to himself that no amount of arguing or pleading could tear you from the melody spinning lazily through the room.

He’s still going to complain about it, though. “Claire de Lune, huh? I can’t believe I lived to see Twilight cock-blocking me again.”

You poke him in the side. “Some of us first heard Debussy at the Gotham Philharmonic and some of us read about him in Stephanie Meyers’ blockbuster paranormal romance and googled Claire de Lune on the family computer in their Dad’s office, okay? The important thing is we’re both here, and we can both appreciate it, so shut up.”

Tim shuts up. You smile at him, and let your eyes fall closed. The slow melody envelops you like mist and settles on your skin, resting easy in your inner ear. A small part of you anticipates the notes before the pianist actually plays them, and you find yourself nodding when they finally escape from her fingers. Her performance is perfect, she isn’t messing around trying to improve Debussy’s masterwork, just picking her way through it, measure by measure. You take deep, even breaths as a sense of calm permeates your system. Eyes still closed, you let the music relax you, content to wade dreamily in its cool comfort. 

After about a minute, Tim clears his throat. “Y/n,” he says gently, “look.” You open your eyes and follow Tim’s pointed finger to one of the floor-length windows, gasping out loud when you see the stunning full moon. It sits in an overcast sky, fog and smog and clouds pressing against it like an embrace. The thin ropey clouds that drift across its slouched figure are reflecting its yellow light and giving it a warm, pearly corona, a halo. You stare at it openly for a few seconds, admiring the bone moon in its sky armchair.

Your attention drifts back to Tim’s finger, arm still hanging loosely in front of you, and then to the man himself. The ballroom lights are low enough that you can imagine the moonlight reflecting off of Tim, too, that he too is catching some of its cotton shine on his face. You’re awfully lucky to be with someone who takes the time to point out a particular moon among of a string of nights with particular moons, and you tell him so. Tim’s smile is quiet, but he presses his forehead to yours, where it stays for the rest of the song.

When it ends Tim leans back to smile at you again. You smile back, feeling filled up with the moon and the music and him. Catching his hand in your own, you start in the direction of the grand staircase that leads up to his old bedroom. Tim stops you by pulling on your arm lightly, before turning and walking towards the doors that will take you outside.

You look at him quizzically. “Can we go to your apartment?” he murmurs. “We’ve been in my world this whole night, now I want to be in yours.”

You smile softly before leaning up to kiss him, quick and light. He squeezes your hand as he leads you through the room, and then suddenly you’re outside, breathing cool, almost autumn air while you wait for Tim to get a car sorted out. You turn your eyes upward to meet the moon again, the ghost of Claire de Lune still drifting through your head.

Tim breaks your reverie by calling your name, and you follow him into the back of a car. After directing the driver to your apartment, Tim hands you an earbud. You put it in your left ear while Tim puts the other in his right, and together you listen to Claire de Lune again as the car makes it’s way through a Gotham that’s soft and shiny with moonlight. Three repetitions of Debussy later you’re standing in front of your apartment, Tim wrapping his arms around you as you fiddle with your keys, unlock your door, and lead him to your bedroom.

Later, after you’re spent twice over and Tim has made good on his fantasy of opening you up with his mouth, Tim shifts in the bed and slides himself around you, lips at your ear.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

You sigh happily. “Mmm.”

“I asked the orchestra to play Clair de Lune.”

You raise yourself up on your elbows at that, leaning over him with a meaningful look into his starry eyes. You’re sure there are stars in yours, too. 

“Yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

You lie back down. “Thank you.”

His hand comes up to stroke your hair. “Mmm.”

[spookyceph]

Good Graces Pt. 2

Finally got the second half of this fic together. Find it on Ao3 or the first part here on Tumblr. 

Nothing explicit takes place, however, the non-canon talk is of a sexual nature. Also, Dabi is a masochist and likes being ordered around. But we knew this already, didn’t we?

Words: 2,789

Rating: M for language and sexual themes

The wait ended two days later in the same spot. Dabi was in the process of pouring himself his second drink of the night when a misty-edged hole opened in reality behind the bar. From it stepped the tall, elegant form of Kurogiri. Dabi had never really considered what a demon might look like, but the League’s second-in-command/butler/voice of reason provided plenty of inspiration. Impeccable suit. Ability to show up anywhere. Form too immaterial to hurt, but still capable of making someone pay for trying. As always, Dabi gave him a polite nod and fought back memories of how it had felt to unexpectedly be elbow-deep in that shifting darkness.

“Ah, Dabi. Just the person I was hoping to see.” Deep. Smooth as high-end nihonshu. The kind of voice that could talk somebody into trading away their firstborn. Or into joining a half-assed villain ensemble.

Dabi paused with his glass to his lips. He made a sound he hoped came across as Yes, I’m listening rather than Help, I’ve swallowed my own tongue in mortal terror.

“Shigaraki Tomura wishes to speak with you at your earliest convenience.”

This was it. This was not a drill. Dabi put down the glass without taking a sip. “Where?”

“He is in his room at the moment. I will open the way, if you wish to go now.”

He’d just slid off the stool when the words registered. The air behind him changed. It was like the faint static charge living things gave off and a feeling of being watched all at once. Except Dabi knew if he turned he’d see only a hazy oval of black floating there, the perfect width and length to swallow him completely.

He didn’t want to use the warp gate. No fucking way. Problem was he’d already gotten up—couldn’t sit back down without looking like a coward or a dumbass or both. And he sure as hell wasn’t about to admit he already knew where Shigaraki’s room was to the person who amounted to the closest thing the guy had to a father.

So, Dabi grabbed his glass again. Knocked back the contents. Pretended it was just like jumping into a cold pool on a summer day as he turned and plunged into the waiting darkness.

Nothing existed anymore. Not time. Not space. Not self. Then something—maybe Kurogiri’s will or just simple momentum—carried him back into being. He returned to reality with a gasp. Catching his balance, he blinked and took stock of his new surroundings.

Shigaraki sat on his heels not a meter away, staring up through the stiff fingers of his favorite fashion statement. Large sheets of paper littered the floorboards in front of him. Maps, Dabi realized, noting the grid lines and coordinate markings. Somewhere way out in the sticks, if all the green and brown were any clue. Turning his head, he saw shelves lining the walls. Books? No, too many the same size and too thin. Cases for games—hundreds of them. More than one person could finish without giving up on everything else in life. Then again, what did he know? He’d never been allowed to have any as a kid. Never been allowed to have anything that might distract him from the glorious future planned out for him since day one. And just look at how well that had gone.

At any rate, the room didn’t seem to have the right ambiance to banish or murder someone in. Dabi let his hopes peek out from the bunker of suspicion.

“What’s this stuff for?” he asked, nodding to the maps on the ground.

Nothing from Shigaraki for an adrenaline-spiking second. Then, he crooked the fingers of one hand. “Sit.”

Dabi obeyed, pacing himself. Step in closer. Let one leg fold under him. Just bend the other so the sole of his boot lay flat on the floor. Rest same side elbow on knee. Prop the whole casual façade up with the other hand behind him.

“You got something you wanna say?” Cool nonchalance despite all the spit having vanished from inside his mouth.

Closing those intense eyes, his boss-and-possibly-more drew a long inhale. Didn’t even gag on the musty museum specimen smell of the taxidermy clutching his face. Then it was Dabi’s turn to suck in a breath as Shigaraki pulled off the gray hand with fumbling fingers, setting it aside.

“I want you to lead the others on their first job,” he said, complete with direct eye contact.

Any pretense of self-assurance abandoned Dabi. His stomach clenched as if braced for a punch. He pumped his brain for something droll, snappy, cocky in response. The well had run dry. He settled for practical.

“What do you want us to do?”

Shigaraki’s shoulders relaxed a fraction, though his stoic expression never wavered. “I was given some interesting information about UA’s precious fledgling heroes. Seems they’re headed to a remote training camp in the mountains for the summer. No one will be looking after them except two of their teachers and four pros who specialize in wilderness rescue missions. I want you to ruin their little retreat.”

Dabi’s spine went stiff and straight as an exclamation point. “I didn’t sign up to kill kids—even baby heroes.”

But Shigaraki was already shaking his head halfway through. “Killing them isn’t the point. That would generate too much outrage, hypocritical or no. The police might actually pry their heads from their asses and make a united effort to hunt us down with that much public pressure on them. Not to mention every third-rate pro in the country would crawl out of the woodwork, looking to make headlines. We’d be finished before we ever got started.

“No, what I have in mind is some training of our own.”

Attention swapped places with apprehension. “Oh?”

“None of us have worked together. Most of us haven’t worked on a team at all. This is an opportunity to test how well your quirks and styles compliment or clash with one another.”

“So, what? We crash their field trip and start fucking shit up? Flee the scene when the fighting gets too heated?”

“I came up with a level objective for you to focus on.” From on top of the maps, Shigaraki scooped up a thick manila folder and handed it to him.

Taking it, Dabi flipped to the first set of pages inside. His expression stayed set in stone while his stomach took a cliff dive.

A pretty girl with skin the color of bubblegum and squiggly little horns peeking out of her cotton candy hair smiled out at him from the photo in the top corner.

Name: Ashido Mina

Age: 15

Quirk: Acid

“You got hold of the students’ profiles? Impressive.” And a potential fucking disaster waiting to happen.

Shigaraki shrugged modestly, lightly scratching a new crop of scabs that had popped up in jagged furrows on both sides of his neck. Scabs that hadn’t been there a few days ago. “It’s just their teachers’ assessments of their quirks and performance during class assignments. Personal information like relatives and home addresses were better protected.”

The vice slowly closing its jaws around Dabi’s thumping heart released. Regardless, he made sure not to linger on any one student as he leafed through several of the profiles. Just focused on breathing normally and pretending to read for what seemed like a reasonable amount of time before moving to the next. He’d wait until he didn’t have an audience to allow himself to register anything.

“What’s this objective supposed to be?” he inquired.

“Capture one of the stronger, more notable students and ask him to join us.”

A muscle in his cheek jumped when Shigaraki reached over and flipped to a report in the middle of the folder. Dabi forced himself not only to look but see.

The boy scowling out of the picture was blonde. Broad-shouldered. Red-eyed, though not as beautifully as the one sitting across the way. Dabi’s pulse evened out.

“Bakugou Katsuki,” he read. “Isn’t this the kid they had to bind and gag at UA’s Sports Festival—even though he won the damn thing?”

“The same.”

“The hell do we want him for? I thought we were full capacity on lunatics already.”

A sigh. “To spook the school’s supporters and society at large, for one. It’s not enough to kill heroes. More will just take their place. We have to convince people to withdraw their support of them. Turn against them, though that won’t come until later.”

Dabi snorted. “This little asshole will never agree to sign on with us. He’s obsessed with proving he’s above everyone else. I know the type.”

A twitch of interest crossed Shigaraki’s face. Instead of pressing, though, he filed the slip away in that mysterious brain of his. “I don’t give half a shit if he agrees. All that matters is he blabs to anyone who’ll listen that we targeted and tried to corrupt him once we let him ‘escape’.”

Tapping his fingers on the stack of papers, Dabi let the big picture come into focus. “Instead of outright attacking the school, we’re undermining their image. Making all the mommies and daddies wonder if a career as a pro is as great as they thought it would be for their precious snot-nosed bastards. Getting donors to think twice before reaching for those wallets. We’re playing the long game. Smart.” A thin smile tugged at one end of Dabi’s mouth. “Which leaves just one question. Why have me lead instead of yourself? People might accuse me of sleeping my way to the top.”

A lovely shade of pink, like the inner coating of a seashell, livened up Shigaraki’s cheeks. “We never—!” He huffed and turned away, pink deepening to rose and spreading to the tops of his ears when he noticed Dabi’s smile had widened to a grin. “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

“Guilty. Well, on the last part anyway.”

Shigaraki continued to fume, hopes of an answer dwindling with each second of silence. Then, just when an apology was in the works, “Because I’m a shitty leader.”

Dabi exchanged his smile for arched eyebrows. “”And you think I’d make a better one?”

“You take initiative when you need to, and show restraint when you should. You’re able to read people without giving away much of anything about yourself. The others respect you. They like you. Anyway, from a purely tactical standpoint, since your quirk is long range you can attack and give orders without getting swept up in the melee. And…” Blood-soaked irises looked at him through a tangled curtain of white hair for a moment before flitting back to the safety of the maps. “I trust you.”

Every response Dabi had lined up crumbled. With them gone, he couldn’t pretend not to notice what they’d been hiding. Exposed to proper light and air, it bloomed, bright and bold despite the ruin it grew from.

“I won’t fail.” The words were hoarse, but came out easily enough for a promise he’d swore to make to no one except himself ever again.

“I know you won’t. Because this isn’t about winning or losing. I want you and the others to test yourselves as individuals and as a team. Do your best. Find what works. What doesn’t. We’ll figure out where to go from there. Together.”

He’d joined the League of Villains looking for a means to exact revenge. Being told what he’d always wanted to hear made for a hell of a bonus prize.

Dabi pounced. His mouth mashed into Shigaraki’s, muffling an astonished yelp. Cold hands latched onto the front of his shirt. Not Decaying. Not shoving. Clinging. Insisting. He obliged, wrapping his arms around the other man’s waist and shoulders, then letting his weight carry them both to the floor. They rolled across the maps, scattering stolen papers as they went. Lips and teeth and tongue combined in different ways between every panting break for air.

Winding up sprawled on top, Dabi relocated his kisses to Shigaraki’s neck. The whimper that came out of him when just a bit of suction was applied under the corner of his jaw went directly to Dabi’s dick. Shigaraki writhed, supple and strong, yet unsure and overwhelmed. His fingers—three on each hand—clutched hard enough to hurt through a carapace of scar tissue. The scabs crosshatching his neck scraped the tongue and tasted of rust.

He surpassed any fantasy conjured up in the past few weeks. Because he was real. Unpredictable. And, in that slice of time at least, he was Dabi’s.

Shigaraki gasped and arched at the feel of a hand slipping up under his shirt. Dabi became so absorbed in the smooth, cool texture of the skin beneath his fingertips he didn’t think anything of the arm that snaked around his own, or the heel hooked behind his knee until, with a sharp twist of hip, he was rolled. The air rushed out of him in a huff as he hit the floor. Shigaraki didn’t look it, but he was solid, planting himself on Dabi’s chest and pinning both his wrists above his head.

“No,” he said, decisive if out of breath. “We do this my way.”

Dabi kept perfectly still. One wriggle, one shift, and he would’ve cum in his pants right then and there. So, he relaxed one muscle group at a time. Controlled his breathing. Showed his boss what a good boy he could be.

“What did you have in mind?” he asked, already positive he’d like the answer.

Despite his command of the situation, Shigaraki’s gaze wandered off to the side. Unsure. Shy. God, it was going to be fun fucking both descriptions right out of him.

“I don’t have…experience…with this, ah, subject.”

Dabi had to keep his teeth clamped together to keep from laughing. Good. He had to be good or he wouldn’t get any treats.

“So, I thought…maybe we could each make a list. Of things we like—or might like. And of stuff we don’t, or aren’t interested in. Then…pick and agree on an option. Until…until someone gets bored or just doesn’t want to anymore or…whatever.”

The habit of exceeding expectations was quickly becoming one of Dabi’s favorite things about his new boss. “Is that what you’ve been up to these past three days? Thinking about what you want to do to me?”

Shigaraki shifted his weight forward a bit, breathing definitely speeding up a notch. “Not the entire three days,” he muttered.

Dabi rested his hands on slim hips, keeping them still before they sent him over the edge. “When did you want this list?”

He considered, worrying his already cracked bottom lip with his teeth and then catching the trickle of blood with the point of his tongue in a way that made Dabi’s toes curl in his boots. “We’ll need to start meeting regularly to work on the plan anyway, so…tomorrow, at this time.”

Meaning he had already made a list and wanted to see what Dabi came up with. “Done.”

“Well.” Shigaraki cleared his throat lightly. “It’s settled then.” Carefully, he started to slide his leg over. Froze when a soft hiss escaped Dabi. A finger stroked one of the staples in his cheek before pulling back, remembering permission to do so hadn’t been agreed on yet.

“Did I hurt you? When we rolled over?”

Absolutely precious. Dabi smiled. “Not as much as I want you to.”

Red eyes blinked rapidly, wide and startled. “I’m…sorry?”

“Don’t be. Now go on. Let me up.”

Still looking a bit lost, Shigaraki did, sitting with his arms wrapped around his legs. Dabi sat upright on a long exhale. Paused to collect himself. Got to his feet when he was reasonably sure he wouldn’t ruin his last clean pair of pants doing so.

“You’re leaving?”

The note of disappointment in Shigaraki’s tone almost toppled his resolve. He looked over through lowered lashes. “I have something pressing to take care of at the moment. Unless you don’t want to wait for a list to find out what it is.”

One glance below Dabi’s belt transformed confusion into open-mouthed understanding. “Oh.” Shigaraki buried his face in his knees. “Sorry?”

“I already told you. Don’t be.” And before his willpower evaporated completely, “See you tomorrow.”

He’d made it to the door when a final thought sprung on him. Pausing with his fingers on the handle, he peered back over his shoulder. “You didn’t come up with this whole training camp plan just to score some alone time with me, did you?”

The choked sound that came from Shigaraki was answer enough. Dabi finally allowed himself to laugh as he let himself out.

[giasonesdream]

The Art TA, Tae...

Hi, so I was inspired by this gifset created by @95z​

Such a simple yet effective post, because this is what I came up with:

Your university wasn’t an art school by any means. With an expansive campus run rampant with prospective business people and research scientists, the last thing on the majority’s mind was the history of your personal favourite painter, Carravagio.

Not that it mattered to you...since you weren’t an Art Major, yourself.

But you hang with that crowd, somehow drawn to the open and relaxed spirits of those that spent their lectures with paint brushes in their aprons, or calloused fingertips from strumming the strings of some orchestral instrument. In summation, despite your academic plan leading you down the path of Foreign Communications, you always somehow found yourself in the Art Building during your spare time.

It was a rather cozy building, stacked with the same warm tone bricks used to make the goliaths just across the street, on the main campus. If the Science building wasn’t on it’s own separate street, as well, you could’ve sworn the School Board held some vendetta towards Art Majors.

So the trek is comfortable, jay-walking in the middle of the day as the streets are normally empty during this time of the day. Your friends are scattered throughout the small building. The halls are narrow and cozy, almost makes you feel like you’ve walked into a new world of secrets and mystery. Paintings, portraits, and mixed media line the cement walls.

Despite knowing that there are people in the rooms evidently from the various noises that come muffled from the wooden doors, it’s always so quiet and empty when you’re there. It’s a rarity to share the hall with another human, and it’s normally a treat when you do.

Like today. The both of you are walking from opposite ends of the hall, coming closer.

He doesn’t have a face you recognize, but some primal part of your brain wishes you did. Chocolate copper tresses veil his forehead, slipping under the thick framed glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. He’s adorned in black trousers that seem to fit his waist perfectly, but with suspenders that contrast the simple...ridiculously obvious shirt fitting to his shoulders. You can’t stop the grin that pulls at your lips upon reading the painter’s name written clearly on the maroon fabric: Van Gogh. 

The stranger is in the midst of rolling out his neck, his shoulder twitching up to adjust the leather strap of his messenger bag going across his body. When he seems satisfied with stretching his neck, his gaze falls to yours. It’s so sudden, you don’t have time to look away, to try and pretend like you hadn’t been checking him out just a second before. 

In order to save your dignity, you go for a smile, something you hope comes across as friendly and kind. But his gaze is piercing, even beyond the lenses of his glasses that catch the reflection of the light hanging above, you can see it. Brown eyes boring into yours, almost like a challenge, daring you to keep his stare or look away.

Maybe later on you’ll curse yourself, kick at your own ass for not wanting to be confrontational or even the slightest bit rebellious. For now, however, you drop your eyes to the floor, just as your paths cross. Christ, where had your confidence gone?

What’s more, that primal part of your brain doesn’t think, only reacts. Curious as to see the stranger from behind, you turn your head back, and there it is again: that stare, that stone gaze catching yours. This time, though, it’s coupled with a smirk, one side of his lips turned up into a smile. Of course, you only notice that you were caught in the act, and you snap your head back immediately, quickening your pace to get to the end of the hall as soon as possible.

With the Art Department being so small and intimate, it’s not hard to learn about the stranger, the man that has somehow made a name for himself with his eccentric fashion, someone who was able to stand out even to the Art Students literally is that even possible?

He’s a mid-level Art History Teacher’s Assistant named Kim Taehyung. Thankfully, one of your friends has a class that he assists, and he’s quite talkative in class. From what your friend has told you, he likes to converse with the students before class, try to read the room’s mood levels before the professor joins them. Your friend doesn’t remember if he’s in Graduate School working to be a professor himself or to open up an Art Gallery. Seems like two completely different career ventures-

“You’re not from here.”

The voice snatches you from your thoughts, bringing you back to the present. One of your friends is in his Music Theory lecture in the lower level of the building. It’s probably the creepiest, most eerie section of the building, and mainly your biggest piece of evidence that the Art Students get the short end of the stick.

Your stare had been a mile long into the wall opposite of you as you leaned against the cold, hard surface. And the last time you were aware of your surroundings, you’d been alone.

So to hear someone else talking-

“Oh my go-” you exclaim, quickly lowering your voice. You don’t want to disturb the lecture going on just on the other side of the wall. You finally follow the direction in which the voice had came, low and smooth enough to wrap around some inner part of yourself.

Speak his name, and he shall appear.

Standing to your side is the aforementioned Kim Taehyung, the TA you’d passed in the hallway just a couple days ago. Your heart is still pounding in your rib cage, but now it’s unclear as to what the cause of that is. 

He laughs, holding out his hands in front of him, like a sign of not being a threat. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You give yourself a moment to calm down, taking the time to give a quick once-over the outfit for today. Students in the Fashion Department must have a field-day with how he styles clothing. Again, he’s wearing simple black pants, maybe a little less fitted than the pair he wore the other day. Today’s eclectic shirt is a button down with geometric shapes of all sizes, staying in the colour story of red, white, and gray. Again, simple, but bold.

“Um...what?” You ask on an exhale.

“I said ‘you’re not from here’,” Taehyung reiterates. “I’m pretty good at remembering faces of the staff and students that normally frequent this building. You’re a new one.”

You hum in agreement. “Right. No, my friends...I’m waiting on a friend that’s in this lecture. Most of my friends are Art Majors.”

Taehyung nods, pushing his glasses up his nose. “So, what major are you, then?”

It’s an easy conversation to have, especially on campus. Everyone wants to know what plan someone else has, especially if they have no idea what they’re working towards themselves. So you explain your major, your plan to work in foreign affairs for some big company.

“...or, atleast, that’s the goal,” you finish.

“Is that the dream, too?”

It takes a minute for the question to process. Even as it does, you still respond with a furrow of your brow in confusion.

The TA leans his shoulder against the wall, loosening his posture, and you have the desire to mirror his relaxed state.

“Well, what I mean is...you say that it’s your goal, but is that career move what you dream of doing?”

Being in your last year of university, this was already a talk you have had to have with yourself. When you slaved away over your French Oral Presentation, or going through the motions of General Accounting, you knew what you would have rather been doing with your time. Ledgers was far from it.

What makes you hesitate, though, is whether or not you should express this honesty to a virtual stranger. Attractive or not, were you willing to open up about something you’ve already lamented over?

Sighing, you sink into the wall. “Not even close.” His expression is patient, waiting for you to explain. “If I didn’t crave financial security, I’d spend my days and nights here, working on creative writing projects...maybe diving so deep into the world of Gentileschi that I could transport back in time to when she thrived. But alas...I graduate this Spring.”

When Taehyung nods, he looks thoughtful, mulling over your words. Much to your surprise, his silence doesn’t feel awkward, but you do have questions of your own.

“What about you? I heard you’re...either trying to open an Art Gallery or become a full time professor. Which is it?”

With a tilt of his head, a laugh threatens to stumble past his pursed lips. “Did you ask about me?”

At your slip-up, your mouth hangs open as you try to stumble for a response. You hadn’t even thought about that, about how it would sound for him to know you were already trying to figure out who he was after one encounter.

“Oh...I, uh...well- okay, yeah, you.” You breathe a nervous laugh. “Your shirt had caught my attention, and you-”

“I caught your attention,” guesses a rather smarmy Taehyung. He seems to find some entertainment in your slight panic, which actually helps to calm your nerves. When you finally settle, he continues. “I wanna do both, actually. Even when I graduate, I know there’s still more I can learn. Why not get paid while I continue the journey, right? Plus, I’d need to grow a savings so I could start off with some backing-”

“Man, you’d fit right in with the Business Department. Especially the Accounting Students. They go nuts for financial plans and forecasts.”

Taehyung shrugs. “Nothing wrong with having a plan in place. Just as much as there’s nothing wrong with not having a plan.”

His words, for some reason you couldn’t even explain to yourself, gave you reassurance and solidarity. Your future had been set since the moment you stepped foot onto the university’s campus. And though you would have nights where you longed to stray from the path laid out, you kept on course. And with only months left of your undergraduate schooling, the finish line was just over the horizon, already pooling into view. 

But everyone knows that with finishing one race, you only start another. Not a race, no. A marathon. A marathon that the man to your side was giving you comforting words would go well even if the lines in front of you blur or obstacles come.

Again, the silence is nice, filled with words not spoken but ease and welcome vibrations.

The lecture room door opens, and the noises from inside spill out into the small corridor. Jeongguk will be out soon.

“Welp.” You straighten up, pushing away from the wall. “It was nice to meet you, Taehyung. A rather interesting first conversation.”

“Wow, you know my name! And I never even learned yours.”

Right. You tell him your name, listen as he tries it out on his own tongue. It shouldn’t sound as intimidating as it does, given that he’d already seemingly jumped head-first with the deeper topics of discussion. 

“First conversation?”

“Huh?”

“You said it was an interesting first conversation. Does that mean you’d want to have a second? Maybe even a third?”

He feigns a scandalous look that makes you giggle. “Hell, we might even have a fourth.” He gasps deeply.

He nods towards the lecture hall. “Well...now you know where I am on Friday’s at this time of the day. The joys of only having one lecture hall in the building.”

You roll your eyes, your disdain seeping through. “Ugh, that’s so ridiculous. This building really should be a lot bigger.”

“Won’t argue with you, but what are the odds that we would’ve run into each other if that was the case?”

It’s a sweet sentiment that doesn’t match the wink he sends your way.

The hallway is busy now as the current of bodies flow. Taehyung starts walking toward the classroom. “I’ll see you around, yeah? Give me time to guess which Gentileschi painting is your favourite.”

With a grin, you nod, giving a small wave as he enters the classroom.

When Jeongguk finds you, you both make your way through the building. He’s already going into a ramble about his final project for his film class. You both have a habit of sliding your fingertips against the walls, tapping along the heavy surface.

Taehyung was right about that. You still believe the Art Department could have more, be more, but there’s a charm in how small it is...intimate.

[galahadwilder]

A Thief, Redux

Chapter 2: Dramatics

A sequel to A Thief, a Thief. Chapter 2 sponsored by @becauseforoncethisisme.

Enjoy my writing? Sponsor a fic chapter!

KleptoMariac Archive

AO3

Warning: as always when I write Gabriel in non-crack fics, this chapter features emotional abuse. It also references self-harm, but none actually occurs.

*

It turns out that it’s much harder to say anything to Marinette’s parents than Lila expected. Because, for some bizarre reason, Marinette actually respects her parents. And not the way Adrien does—out of fear—but in a way that implies that, somehow, they actually earned it.

Which means half the messages she’d normally send would get her caught immediately. She may be able to fake that kind of relationship with her own mother, but Martina Rossi has never really paid attention to her. As far as she can tell, Marinette's parents do. Which means they'll notice if she messes this up even slightly.

She sighs, sending off a few messages to Rose, Alix, and Ivan while she tries to figure out what to say to Tom and Sabine. One to Myléne, one to Sabrina. Teenagers are easier to manipulate than adults—they're all convinced people secretly hate them. She's just proving them right. Their worst fears about Marinette come to light.

Then, inspiration strikes. What's a parent's worst fear about their child?

Losing them.

She scrolls back through the contacts, skipping over "Princess"—actually, hang on. What is that about? Does Marinette have a secret girlfriend? That would be interesting. Nothing she knows what to do with yet, though. Stick to the plan, go through with the idea before she loses it.

She taps on "Father," then "New Message."

Adrien: Papa? I don't think it's safe for me to stay at school anymore

Adrien: Everything's... too much. Too much pressure. Everyone's turning on me

Adrien: Papa

Adrien: I keep thinking about hurting myself

There's no response, which is a bit of a surprise. Maybe M. Dupain is busy at the bakery? Usually she would expect Marinette's family to be right on top of something like that.

Oh well. Lila shrugs with a grin, checking the time on the phone. The meet still has another twenty minutes to go—that's plenty of time.

She opens a text to Max.

*

"You have Nathalie's number?" Alya says as Adrien removes his helmet, steps forward, shakes his opponent's hand.

Marinette nods without looking up from her phone, not even at Adrien—she's on a mission now, and there's a fire behind her eyes that screams I am the Class President for a reason. Get out of my way. "How do you think we organized the seats at the fashion show?" she says.

"You mean the one where we pissed off Chloé's mom?" Alya says. She shudders at the sudden remembrance of every part of her body catching fire as she turned to glitter, and immediately shoves that down.

Marinette snorts. "Not like that's hard," she says, jamming her thumb down on her screen. "Okay, she knows. She's going to be shutting down the number shortly."

"Great! Glad that's... settled." Alya looks down at her hands, her fingers twiddling, and for a moment she can taste the metal of the bleachers just beyond them, the coppery taste settling right behind her teeth where they meet her gums. "Um," she says. "Something else that imposter said."

Marinette looks up from her phone. "Alya?"

”You—you’re stealing things again,” Alya says. She can't quite meet Marinette's eyes. “And you said you haven’t been sleeping.”

Marinette looks at her, swallows. Bites her lip, slowly lowers her phone to the bleachers. "Yeah."

”This isn’t just about Adrien,” Alya says. “How—” Her throat slams shut around her words; she knows she's at fault here, she knows she's been in denial about how much stress Marinette is under. But... but apologizing would mean admitting exactly how bad of a friend she's been lately and while she needs to, knowing it and saying it are two very different things. She can’t quite manage it. “I keep dumping babysitting on you,” she whispers instead. “How long as it been since you had a break?” Come to think of it... “I haven’t seen your design book in weeks.”

Marinette closes her eyes. “It’s—it’s okay, Alya,” she says, with an utter lack of conviction.

Alya’s heart drops, and her stomach begins to crawl, burning, up into her lungs. How much has she been hurting Marinette?

It doesn’t matter. Any amount is too much for their Everyday Ladybug, and she doesn’t even have to consider her decision before she flings herself bodily at her friend. “You don’t have to babysit every time I ask you to,” Alya says, hugging Marinette’s head to her chest. “You’re allowed to say no.”

Marinette stiffens, then relaxes into her grip. ”Don’t wanna disappoint people,” She whispers.

Alya grimaces. “You can’t serve from an empty cup, Marimuffin,” she says, rubbing her knuckles into Marinette’s scalp. “You have to take care of you first.”

“People don’t always listen.” Marinette looks up at her, eyes wet. “You don’t always listen.”

Alya’s eyes widen, and she swallows. “I—oh,” she says. “I... I didn’t realize.” She closes her eyes, breathes in through her nose. “I’ll... be more careful, about that,” she says. “In the future. And... I’ll make sure everyone else respects your boundaries too.”

Marinette just nods.

*

Lila is starting to get antsy. There's only a few minutes left in the fencing meet, and Marinette's father still hasn't messaged her back. The longer she has the phone, the more likely she is to get caught—but if she doesn't hold onto it, if she's not there when the message is returned, she's not going to be able to seal the deal, to properly hurt Dupain-Cheng through her family.

"Come on, come on," she whispers, willing the phone to sound. Pick up the damn phone, you useless excuse for a baker.

It dings, vibrating in her hand, and her heart leaps in her chest. "Yes!"  she hisses under her breath.  

Father: Stop the dramatics. This is not how you were raised to act.

Lila's eyes widen as a chill shatters through her veins. This—this doesn't sound like Marinette's father. This is not how she expected him to act. Is she—Marinette's parents are so perfect in public. Marinette seems to love them so much. Did Lila misread them all? How?

Is that why she can't seem to beat Marinette? Because the girl is impossible to read?

She falls forward, leans onto the next locker. This is not how she expected this to go, but... but. She looks back at the phone, and a grin widens onto her face. It's still working.

Father: I told you that public school would be too much for you, but you insisted. I have half a mind to leave you there to sort out your own problems.

Father: Honestly, sometimes you are as bad as your mother.

Lila's eyebrow raises as she turns her back to the locker, trying to stifle a cackle with her mouth. As bad as your mother? Something must be truly rotten in the Dupain-Cheng household. 

Father: If this is how you react to public school, then I will be pulling you out immediately. I'm glad you finally agree with me about your friends. They will no longer be allowed in contact with you.

Father: You will, of course, be giving up your phone. Clearly your time spent on the internet is doing damage to your mental health.

Lila presses a hand to her mouth to muffle a shriek of delight. This—she could not have imagined things going this well!

She glances toward the gym. Oh, she's won. "Hope you're enjoying your last ever gasp of freedom, Dupain-Cheng," she sneers.

*

The fencing meet is declared over, and both teams start packing up the equipment. It's easy to pick out Kagami, even though she's begun wearing white—every move she makes is impatient, swift. Adrien, on the other hand, is slow, deliberate. He doesn't seem to want to finish.

Alya snatches Marinette's hand and leaps to her feet, yanking the other girl up with her. She yelps, catches her foot on one of the bleachers, and stumbles; Alya is barely able to catch her in time.

The twelve other people in the stands, Adrien, Milo, Jean, Kagami, and Heloise all look up at the noise. Alya can see concern on Adrien and Kagami's faces, so she gives them a nervous thumbs-up. Marinette whines, hiding her face behind Alya's shoulder.

Satisfied, everyone turns back to what they were doing—except Adrien, who's still watching them.

"Okay, girl," Alya says, placing a steadying hand on Marinette's shoulder. "I need to go talk to Adrien to tell him what's going on." She breathes in, closes her eyes. Don't pressure her, she reminds herself. Breathes out. "Are you good to come with, or do you need to stay behind?"

Marinette blinks up at her owlishly. "Um," she says, her cheeks pinking the tiniest amount. "I... think I'll come with?"

Alya's eyes narrow at the reticence in Mari's voice, but she nods. "Okay," she says. "I can do the talking?"

Marinette nods a silent yes please, her mouth tight, her eyes wide with distress. Little signs that Alya has been missing—has her Adrien-anxiety been getting worse? And Alya didn't notice this whole time?

Alya wants to punch herself in the gut. This is not how a friend should act.

She climbs down the bleachers—over the seats themselves, because who even uses the aisles aside from Marinette (because of her coordination issues)—stepping on each seat like stones of a river, dragging Marinette behind her. Adrien watches them come.

They thread their way between fencers, coaches, and referees, making their way across the gym floor toward Adrien.

"Hey guys," he says as the get close. He looks at Mari. "You... shouted my name earlier?"

Alya opens her mouth to speak, but the Marinette voca-motive steamrolls her first.

"Someonestoleyourphone!" Marinette gasps.

Adrien's eyebrows narrow. "Was... that someone... you?" he says, confused.

Marinette squeaks, hunching her shoulders and trying to hide behind Alya.

Okay, time to take over. "Well, yes and no," Alya says, hugging Marinette's shoulder. "It looks like someone broke into Mari's locker."

Adrien's eyes soften. "Oh," he says, looking at Marinette, and wow, Alya can see the shoujo bubbles in his eyes. How does this boy not know he's—no. Nope. Not pushing this.

"Whoever it is," Alya says, "they think the phone is Mari's." She hands Adrien her phone. "They're sending really nasty things to everyone, pretending to be her."

Adrien takes the phone, scrolls through it, and starts growling. He looks up, meets Mari's eyes. "Ten euros it's her."

Marinette's eyes flick down. "No bet," she mumbles.

Alya looks between them. "Her? Who are we talking about?"

Adrien and Marinette meet wide eyes, lips pursed. Marinette swallows.

Alya's eyebrows narrow. What are they—

"I was wondering why you stole from her,” Adrien says. “You didn’t, did you?”

Marinette shakes her head, sucking her lip. “She was trying to frame me,” she says.

Adrien nods, holds up the phone. "You left her off the group chat."

”Guys?” Alya asks. “What’s going on?”

Adrien sighs, rolling his shoulder. “I think it’s time we talked to you about Lila,” he says.

*

Normally, Gabriel would prefer to avoid Akumatizing his son. It’s a pragmatic thing for when he reveals his identity as Hawkmoth—any Akuma that goes after Adrien, Gabriel can claim is an accident, that they somehow got out of control or he didn’t know the target. But sending a butterfly to infect his son directly isn’t something that can be so easily explained away, and might ruin any inclination Adrien might have to help him, Emelie or not.

And yet, right now, Adrien is devastated. He’s always been so adamant about remaining in school, even down to breaking what few rules Gabriel imposes—if he wants to pull out, something terrible must have happened. Something that gives Gabriel an opportunity.

"Dark Wings Rise!" he cries, and in moments, he is once again purple-clad, searching out his son's familiar emotions. He finds him, exactly where he expects: the fencing meet.

Except... his emotions aren't at all what Hawkmoth expected of him. He should be spiraling right now—Adrien's emotions have always been dramatic, and he's always been too weak to control them, despite Gabriel's best efforts to teach him otherwise. No matter how firm Gabriel is with him to act his age, the boy always seems to break down whenever Gabriel speaks to him. And yet that's not how Adrien seems to be feeling right now. He seems... determined?

Hawkmoth is stunned. There's nothing for an Akuma to latch onto. He's not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. He's a little proud, though. And also kind of confused. Is he missing something?

He jumps as his cane buzzes. "Hello?" he says, flipping it open.

"Sir?" Nathalie says.

"What is it?" Hawkmoth snaps. "I'm very busy."

"I've just received disturbing news about Lila Rossi," Nathalie says. And as she explains what his—he's increasingly realizing, inept—spy has done, Gabriel feels his rage begin to grow.

KleptoMariac Archive

Enjoy my fic? Buy me a coffee!

[dawnwave16]

Phantom

Inspired predominantly by the song Don't Make Me - MALINDA (ft. Thomas Sanders)

On with the story:

Marinette had had a bad day. Scratch that it had been a bad month and she was tired. Tired of being bullied, tired of having to fight to prove that she was telling the truth about her work being her own, tired of having to explain to her parents that she wasn’t lying about having homework and that that was why she wasn’t able to take the delivery to someone of the opposite side of the city. She was tired of telling Tikki she was alright and not being able to mean it.

‘When was the last time I was able to simply sit and design something just because I wanted to?’ She thought. ‘Heck when was the last time I had the inspiration to design in the first place?’ She honestly couldn’t remember the last time she had just been able to relax. She had tried meditation, but each time she started she was interrupted. She tried writing her frustrations down but had stopped after the third time someone broke into her room.

It was 10 pm and she was sitting on her normal perch on the Effiel Tower when the solution came to her. One of her biggest problems came not from Lila of school but from Hawkmoth himself! If she sent Tikki to find a temporary ladybug, she could let Hawkmoth come after her and she, in turn, could attack him! She wouldn’t be able to talk to Tkki about this plan as she would never approve but as Marinette was the guardian she could make her own rules now. 

She had guessed that Chat Noir was Adrien after a few too many of chat’s comments to Marinette had been too familiar. ‘I guess giving the benefit of the doubt really is my weakness’ She sighed well she was done, something major needed to happen and if it took her being the bad guy for once then maybe she needed to step up to that plate. Closing her eyes she nodded, then reached up and took the ladybug earring off for the third time since had received them, back when she was 13. Tikki looked at her and opened her mouth to talk scold her but Marinette stopped her.

“Not now Tikki. I need to be able to let everything out and it occurred to me that the best way to prove to my class that I’m not Hawkmoth is to make sure he is defeated once and for all. I think we need a trap for him, and the easiest bait we have is myself. Take the earrings to Kagami, you’ll know what to do when the time is right.”

Tikki looked at Marinette and for the first time, she seemed to realise just how close to breaking her chosen truly was. With a resigned sigh, she took the earrings and flew off as fast as she could. As soon as Tikki was out of sight, Marinette let go of the tight hold she had on her emotions. She didn’t have to wait too long for the Akuma Butterfly to arrive and for her to hear Hawkmoths voice whispering insidiously to her about being able to take revenge on those who had wronged her. She could see how so many people just gave in without even trying to fight when they were given such offers.

She let herself agree to what Hawkmoth had offered, then felt the tainted magic wash over herself. It was only after the magic had done what it needed to that she let her consciousness return and focused on Hawkmoths voice. She had heard it before, she had won several competitions that his company had hosted. But worst of all for her she used to have a major crush on his son. Gabriel Agreste was Hawkmoth. She sighed and headed towards the Agreste Mansion with a heavy heart. This would break Adrien, she knew, but she also knew that Hawkmoth had to be stopped. 

She hoped she could take out hawkmoth before Chat could arrive on the scene or else things would get messy. It was with this in mind that she made her way to the mansion as stealthily as she could, the tacky dress that hawkmoth had designed for her swishing around her legs and arms as she moved. She made it to the mansion without getting detected which she counted as a win, then slipped into the shadows.

She felt Hawkmoth stir in the back of her mind and guessed he was about to talk to her so she closed her eyes to prevent him from seeing through them. The presence faded away almost immediately but she still waited for 5 minutes before opening her eyes and moving. Finally, she found what she had been looking for and she shook her head in disgust. A large window with a butterfly shape made out of metal support beams stood in stark relief against the looming facade of the mansions gloomy walls. With a quiet sigh, she slipped through the window, landing on silent feet behind the oblivious villain. He was talking to himself she noticed and she couldn’t help but wonder if that was because he was abusing the butterfly miraculous. She would deal with him later though. Mayura needed to be taken down first so that she couldn’t come to his aid.

She moved through the mansion, sticking to the shadows to where she sensed the Peacock miraculous to be and had to stop herself from being sick. In the centre of the room was the new peacock wielder. Their hair was much longer than the original Mayura’s was and was medium brown. Her suit was almost as garish as some of the Akuma’s that Hawkmoth had made. It was royal blue and skin-tight with a skirt that resembled a peacocks tail but it seemed to be made from glitter and sequins. In her hair was a crest that was completely impractical and had the fashion designer in her want to throw up. From the reflection in the window, she could see that the front of the suit dipped down to the belly button and that her breasts were covered by fabric that seemed to be an extension of the tail skirt. The only thing that seemed to be holding it up was the peacock miraculous itself and possibly some magic too. The new Mayura would never be able to fight as if she so much as moved in the wrong way she would expose herself to the world!

Marinette, or Phantom as Hawkmothhad named her, slide from the shadow she was hiding in into the other woman's shadow then stilled as she listened to what the woman was saying. It looked like she was planning on waiting until Hawkmoth had both Chat Noir and Ladybugs miraculi so that she could steal them and crown herself as a Goddess in the new world that she planned on creating. Phantom shook her head then manipulated the shadows to create a replica of the Peacock pin and with a quick sleight of hand that could have been mistaken for a blink, swapped the true pin for the fake she had created and vanished back into the shadows again. She watched as Lila Rossi appeared where the new Mayura had been and shook her head in disgust. She should have known.

A quickly as she had arrived, she vanished back into Hawkmoths Lair but she waited until she heard Rossi’s scream of realisation before she attacked. She knew that Ladybug would be arriving any minute and wanted the fight to be over by then so that she could rip her hair ties to free her Akuma for purification, and head home after dropping Kagami off. 

The scream seemed to come right on cue and as Hawkmoth moved to investigate he found himself bound by ropes made of shadows, yet somehow stronger than any fabric or material known to man. He tried to struggle but Phantom held him firmly as she openly approached him. She removed his Miraculous revealing Gabriel Agreste’s face to her.

“Gabriel Agreste, a man who as far as the world knows has everything the world could ever want.” Her voice had a darkly ethereal quality to it as she spoke. “A man who let himself be blinded by greed.”

“That’s not why I want those miraculous!” He protested, “I want the wish so that I can have my wife back! So that my son can have his mother back!”

“At what cost?” She replied softly. “You wish for her return but what would the cost be? Would it be your life? Your son’s? Would the cost be the life of some random stranger’s life?”

Gabriel was silent then answered, “It would be at the cost of my own life.”

“Ah, but who says you can choose who pays the price for your wish? Would you really want to take that chance? Would she be happy, living with the knowledge that the only reason she is alive is because someone else’s life was sacrificed for her?”

It was at that moment that Kagami broke through the window and landed heavily on the floor, making sure she could fight even if she wasn’t truly steady enough on her feet to be able to deflect any attacks. She frowned as she took in the scene in front of her. An Akuma that looked live a living shadow standing calmly on one side of the room, two miraculi held aloft by a pedestal made of yet more shadows. Ropes binding Mr Agreste who had a defeated look on his face as tears trailed slowly down his cheeks. She sighed and rubbed her eyes.

“Do I want to know what happened here?” She asked.

Phantom smiled softly before answering, “Not really, in fact, it’s probably better if you don’t.”

Mr Agreste looked at Phantom, “When you are purified and the cure cast, what will happen?”

“That depends on you. Are you willing to accept what I have said tonight and accept your defeat? Or will you fight to reclaim the Butterfly and Peacock pins the second the ropes fall? The yo-yo can store them and would probably be the best place for them as it can fix the damage that the abuse has brought on them so you would have to fight without powers for them.”

“I’ll concede,” he said softly pain evident in his voice.

Phantom nodded at the spot clad Kagami, who moved to the pedestal and removed the pins, quickly storing them in the yo-yo. Once that was done Phantom held out a had, offering her the hair ties that help the Akuma. Kagami moved quickly to rip them and free the Akuma butterfly, purifying it and leaving Marinette standing where phantom once was. Kagami looked at her with pity before volunteering to take her home.

“What’s the point? I was Akumatised because I finally let myself feel all the pain and anger that I’ve been suppressing but at the end of the night nothing has changed. Sure, Hawkmoth has been defeated so Paris can breathe easily again but my life is still a mess. Lila Rossi still has my class wrapped around her pinkie finger, my parents are also still under her spell and I’m still exhausted from trying to wear a mask that says I’m happy when I’m not. My teacher wants me to set an example for everyone yet won’t provide the discipline that the class needs.” Marinette’s voice cracked as she gazed unseeingly out the still broken window. 

For the first time in a long time, Gabriel realised that there was nothing he could do to fix everything. Sure he could throw money at the problem but it wouldn’t change the actions of the past. A burst of light startled everyone in the room and Kagami’s eyes widened as the Ladybug transformation dropped without any warning. Frantically she checked her ears for the earrings, only to breath a sigh of relief when she found they were still there.

“Tikki, why did you” Marinette was cut off before she could finish her question.

“I dropped the transformation because it doesn’t matter if these two know your identity any more. Plagg will be on his way to the Miricle box with the ring as we speak and as soon as the two pins were retrieved I sent them there too. As for your situation, you can now take Jagged up on that offer from months ago! I know you really wanted to travel with him and this way you can! With Hawkmoth defeated and you needing to travel in order to find as many of my lost brethren as possible, it works out perfectly. You can still do your studies online so it’s not like you’ll miss out on schooling.”

Marinette looked at her feet and seemed to be thinking for a moment. Gabriel looked at her and couldn’t help but notice how small she was. She wasn’t very tall but life had clearly made an impact on her recently and not in a good way. She no longer looked like the brilliant girl that had looked ready to prove to the world that the bowler hat she had entered into his competition was her design. Where once her hair was glossy and smooth, it now lay limp and dull from the pigtails she still wore. She had lost weight and where once her clothes fitted her perfectly they now hung loosely on her frame. Even her clear blue eyes had lost their seemingly permanent sparkle. Judging from the other girls gasp, she was seeing the same things as he was. How did this go unnoticed? 

Gabriel looked at Tikki then at Marinette and slowly, so as to be unthreatening he walked towards her and knelt so that he was able to look in her eyes properly. 

“I made the mistake of not listening to someone older and wiser than me when I had the chance. Nooroo tried to warn me about the path I was on and I ignored him, now look at me. Please don’t make the mistake I did. Go, expend your wings and let yourself recover from this. I will deal with Ms Rossi. I will also try to listen to my son instead of just barking orders and threats at him. I’ve made the last 3 years of your life difficult, I think it’s time for you to unwind and let yourself relax.” He tried to put as much empathy into his voice as possible as he spoke and despite the fact that he had been her enemy mere moments ago he was shocked to see she was crying. 

She nodded and held out her hand for the second time. Somehow Kagami knew what she wanted and handed over the earrings to her. As if to answer an unspoken question Tikki moved closer and all of a sudden, Ladybug stood where Marinette had been.

“I need to get home and think. I will let Paris know that it is free on Sunday and I will probably see out the last week of this school term at school. I will leave after that. I can’t stay. I don’t know if I will travel with Jagged, hope around using the horse miraculous or simply let myself vanish but I will leave either way.” 

The broken tone of the once-proud Ladybug's voice made Gabriel and Kagami want to cry but they nodded in acceptance. They knew she would do what needed to be done.

10 YEARS LATER:

It was the 10-year-reunion for College Francoise Dupont and everyone was excited. Everyone in Ms Bustier’s class had achieved their dream and in some cases surpassed what they thought they ever would. The only one who hadn’t was Lila. Shortly before Hawkmoths defeat had been announced, she had gone missing. She had eventually been found but not in a place that any of them had expected. She had been found in the mental ward of a well-respected hospital in Italy and the doctors there refused to release her. They had firmly stated that she was a danger not only to society but to herself and they could not let her free for fear of what she might do. Her tower of lies had come crashing down shortly after that but it was too late for any of the class to repair their relationship with Marinette.

So far the only person who hadn’t arrived at the reunion was Marinette and while they were hopeful that she would be there, they weren’t holding their breath. It was because of this that they were surprised when Marinette walked through the doors into the ballroom they had hired. Her hair was cut into a stylish pixie cut and her makeup was absolutely on point. Her red mermaid style dress with black lace stretched over it created the illusion of ladybug’s old uniform suited her perfectly and her black high heels made her look like she belonged on a catwalk for a fashion show. There was a man with her too, which surprised them, though they guessed he was her husband when they saw something sparkle on her finger. He was dressed just as smartly as she was with his black suit tailored perfectly and a pale blue silk shirt open at the top. His shoes could have put a US marine to shame with how they shone. 

To everyone’s further surprise it was Adrien that approached her.

“Welcome back to Paris, Mari. And welcome to Paris for the first time Toshiro. I’m glad you both made it.”

“Thanks,” Marinette’s voice was soft yet held a note of confidence that none of them had heard before as far as they knew. Toshiro stayed silent but his eyes seemed to see straight through them all, cutting into them like ice.

“We just came to greet everyone, we have somewhere else we need to be.”

Adrien nodded and gave them a quick hug as he knew where they were headed. They left almost immediately and the class turned to Adrien for an explanation.

“Marinette’s newest line is being presented tonight as the highlight of Paris Fashion Week. She and her husband, Toshiro Hitsugaya, are needed there to present it.” Adrien shrugged. “I think here theme for this line is Fire and Ice or maybe it was Life and Death I’m not sure. Either way, it’ll be the hit all her other lines have been. I will admit though, it’s funny seeing so many of you wearing MH designs and not realising who the designer is!”