#anyway i have another entire fic outline for this too help me

[wolfiemcwolferson]

Hello darling dearest

Here to request pierre waking up one morning and the only person in the world that seems to be able to see him is charles. Is it a curse? And more importantly can it be reversed?

I have to tag this as never fic and just put it on a shelf because this is in danger of spiraling. Rough outline below.

It opens with a line about how Pierre's life spiraled out of control because of Alex Albon. How none of this would have happened if he hadn't allowed himself to fall in love with George Russell and be painfully cliche about the whole thing and ask him to marry him.

Pierre is sitting on the couch with George and Alex on a Saturday night and they're hanging out and Pierre is happy for the two of them. He really is. They're some of his best friends, but it still stings that they managed to work it out and he and Charles have never.

And then his mom calls and he steps out in the hall to take it and we talks to her about the long weekend that he has coming up and how he and Charles are coming together and when he hangs up, he goes back inside but George and Alex cannot see him?

He thinks it's as bit at first, but then he stands right in front of George for 30 minutes shouting at him and George is just grumbling about how Pierre just disappears sometimes and how annoying it is and Alex finally tells him to take it easy on him because it can't be easy - having to pretend he's fine with Charles on a date tonight and Pierre realizes that they really cannot see him because he has never told another soul about the way he feels.

He finally goes back to his apartment and he is panicked and scared until Charles comes home and he's talking to him like normal and Pierre is like ????? George and Alex cannot see me and now Charles thinks it's a bit so after some argument, he goes down to Alex and George's apartment and they're like, "You seen Pierre tonight? He just disappeared?" and Pierre is literally standing right there with Charles.

Charles and Pierre go back to their apartment and now Charles is freaked out and they stay up all night googling things and Pierre is like, "I'm not dead right?" and Charles is like "don't be stupid, there's no body anywhere and you can pick up that glass."

They decide to put it off until tomorrow - to get some sleep, maybe that will undo it anyway and so Pierre goes into his room and he's trying to sleep and then Charles slips in and he lays down with Pierre and he says really quietly that they'll fix it. Pierre pretends to be asleep.

Pierre wakes up and he goes into the kitchen and he finds Alex over to borrow some tea for George and he still can't see Pierre and Pierre starts to panic, but Charles hugs him and then they eat breakfast together that Charles has burnt and they talk about all the shit they could get away with if Pierre stayed invisible and they're laughing and having fun and it doesn't feel all that awful.

They spend the entire day watching movies and reading articles online and Charles even offers to call that scientist ex of his and Pierre keeps him from doing that and Pierre realizes it's been a long time since the two of them just had a day like this together and it's really nice and they go to sleep that night, Pierre sending an email to his boss that he is sick and won't be in the next day and Charles does the same.

They have like two days just like this. It's them inside their apartment and they don't worry about Pierre being invisible the entire time. They talk about holidays and Charles tells him about that boy he dated last year that broke up with him because he "laughed too much" and Pierre can't help but fall in love with him all over again until!

Charles is talking to him while they're in the kitchen together and they have music playing and they don't hear George let himself in (because he has an emergency key and because he and Charles work together and obviously he's concerned about them) and he finds Charles "talking to himself" and he's freaking out and until Charles manages to convince him that Pierre is indeed there (probably by revealing a secret that only Pierre knows).

George gets Alex and Charles ends up explaining the entire thing to them because they can't hear Pierre and George says, "Oh shit."

And Charles is like oh shit what?

And George is like, "this is kind of exactly what that psychic said isn't it?"

And everyone is ???????? What psychic?

"The one that we all went to see after our engagement party? We were stumbling down the sidewalk and the sign was all lit up and Charles wanted to go in???"

And no one remembers this at all and George has to get out photos of the event and he says, "Well, she told Pierre that if he wanted to find true love, he was going to have to be transparent with the people in his life and she told Charles that if he wanted to find true love he was going to have to face what's been in front of him all this time, and I would say that's exactly what's happening here."

And now they're all staring at each other and Alex is like, "Think that's our cue, Georgie," and ushers him out and Charles is still staring at Pierre all wide eyed.

"I don't remember that," he finally says. "So, this is some kind of...curse? to get us to??? try and fall in love???"

And Pierre thinks about being invisible his entire life because Charles will never love him and he stands up and he walks to the door and he says, "The point of this curse I think is for me to finally tell you that I have loved you every single second I have known you and that love might have started when we were children, but it's not that anymore. I love you more than breath, more than my own well being apparently. I have loved you and I will love you until I stop existing on this planet and maybe beyond, I don't know anymore." And then he walks out the door and he calls out to George who is stood at the end of the hall whispering with Alex and they both turn towards him and they can see him and Pierre jogs to catch up with them and he asks in a tight voice, "can I stay at yours tonight?"

Alex nods once and they both politely ignore the fact that he's crying and he sleeps in their guest room, curled into a little ball and wishing he were invisible again.

He goes back to work the next day, sneaking back into the apartment after he sees Charles leave for work and he changes and he grabs a bag of stuff because he's meant to go to his parents this weekend and when he gets to work, he's clearly still unwell and his boss pulls him into his office and says, "I'm not sure what you've got going on, but you can do this from home, you go handle whatever you need to handle" and so Pierre goes and he changes his ticket and he goes to his parents house.

He explains that he decided to come early and that Charles isn't coming and Pascale looks at him like she knows and Pierre tells her that he's not ready to talk about it, so she sends him to the store for something so she can cook dinner that night.

He has a quiet two days with his family before going into town to meet up with one of his childhood friends and on his way home, he sees a flash of neon - something he's never seen here before and he recognizes it in a sinking moment. That psychic sign is familiar because he saw it that night and he goes inside and it all comes flooding back.

The night they stopped in, the uncomfortable eerie feeling of the place, the way the woman behind the counter had looked at him like she could see through him. It rocks him.

And he says, "So it was real" and she nods. "It didn't work, he doesn't love me" he says.

"Are you so sure of that, Pierre Gasly?"

And then he takes a step towards her to demand she do whatever magic she has to undo it all, but he blinks and he's standing in front of his parents house instead. Transported there somehow and when he opens the front door, there sits Charles with his parents, sipping on a cup of tea and smiling at him.

"Charles -" Pierre starts to ask what's happening.

Perhaps she did undo it. Perhaps she undid the timeline and he was never invisible and he never said that to Charles and Charles and he traveled here today like planned and the Pierre had gone into town because Charles doesn't particularly care for that friend and had elected to stay here with Pierre's parents and catch up and watch some movie, but then he sees Charles' overnight bag right by the staircase - one that wouldn't still be left out unless he had just arrived.

But Charles stands up and he walks over to Pierre and from the look on his face, he knows that she didn't undo shit.

Charles throws his arms around Pierre's shoulders and he whispers into his ear, "I had to see what was right in front of me all this time."

All Pierre can do is wrap his arms around Charles' waist and hold on and try not to sob in front of his parents.

That would be the end of the fic, but the epilogue would be like...they're out to celebrate Arthur finishing grad school and they're out with him and some of his friends and Arthur is kind of tipsy and he's ribbing them for taking so long to get it together and as they're all walking back to Arthur's apartment, they pass by a sign that looks very familiar and Arthur snorts and says, "Oh a psychic, we should go in" and they both shout NO at the same time and manage to wrangle him back home with no more curses, but Charles is laying on Pierre's chest and he says, "What if you were never invisible?" and Pierre kisses his head and says that they were inevitable so he doesn't need to worry about it and Charles tells him he loves him again and that's the end.

[twotangledsisters]

Do you have any writing tips?

Oh, a lot!

I actually used to have an entire blog for writing tips: @deardragonbook you'll want to scroll down a bit to reach the tips, I don't post there anymore but there's still good content... I think the most popular post I ever did was "Sad things you can do in a book other than killing of a character"

But here's some more up-to-date tips!

-Don't force it... but do force it a little bit. I find if you wait for inspiration to hit sometimes it never will, but if you sit down for just five minutes and write uninspired, often times you will enter into a more inspired state. Now if you sit down and after a while you're still not inspired, unless it's one specific chapter you've gotta push through, it's okay to wait! Forcing a story doesn't tend to end with a good story.

-Warmup! We know to warm-up with sport, most people know to warm-up before drawing, the same goes for writing! I have a very random little file where I just write scenes from no specific fic, in no specific order, for no reason other than to warm up.

It has Frederic and Arianna arguing over what their daughter's favorite dessert is.

Teenage Cassandra asking Arianna for help with makeup.

Captain doing push-ups in the garden.

Owl playing dead to get the attention of a six-year-old Cass.

All of these in 200-300 word sprints that I write BEFORE I start working on one of my propper stories! I've done this with numerous stories and projects, just little warm-ups to get a feel for the characters and flow!

-Remember there are writing styles! Some people opt for long sentences with lots of description! Others (like myself) opt for minimal description and spend more time on feelings and actions. Neither one is better or worse, it just depends on what you prefer and the story you're trying to tell!

-CHANGE POV!! This one may be controversial but whenever I'm really, really stuck in a story 9/10 times I can fix that by taking a quick detour to show a different character's pov... I don't know why this work but it just does!

-Find a program that works for you. I've used word/google docs/good-notes/scrivener and more! I write a lot more and a lot faster with scrivener, it's a million times easier for me to go back and check what I've written before when I need to. Having my notes and my outlines in the same document as the main story is great. This just depends on how your brain works but if you haven't tried alternative writing program, you definitely should! You might find one that makes your process a lot easier.

-Use references. Just like in art, you can check out how other writers described a bustling market or palace architecture to inspire your own writing!

I use Descriptionari a lot for this but there's many similar sites out there, reddit writing communities is another great one!

-Have fun! Cheesy, I know, but if you love a story it's going to be a million times easier to write. Don't worry too much if yet another cuddles scene between your fave pairing is getting in the way of the pacing, if it's bringing you joy I can assure you it's bringing plenty of your readers joy too!

Anyway... If there's something more specific you'd like tips on do say cause writing is such a broad subject matter, but those I think are some important ones I have to remind myself of often :D

[wheelsup-sevenup]

20 questions for 20 writers

thank you @gingerpeachtea for the tag!! :3

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 20 😮‍💨

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 69,349. (69‼️‼️)

3. What fandoms do you write for? a lot of marvel, mostly black widow (meaning nat-centric, though i do have a lot for bw 2021) or hawkeye (queerplatonic kate/yelena i love and miss you), and lately some agents of shield too!! those are the ones i tend to finish + post but trust i have so many wips from other fandoms locked and loaded. how do we feel abt tma

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? 1. you’ve begun to feel like home — 926 kudos, wednesday (2022) 2. at least i know i am here to stay — 575 kudos, hawkeye (2021) 3. we’ve got to hold on to what we’ve got — 485 kudos, black widow (2021) 4. okay, this looks bad — 329 kudos, hawkeye (2021) 5. put your arms around somebody else — 306 kudos, hawkeye (2021)

goddd these are all so old haha. anyway

5. Do you respond to comments? ofc!! sometimes it takes me a min because i like to let em marinate but yes i love the interactions and sometimes you get a conversation going its delightful!!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? ooh shit. see a lot of my fics are angsty as hell but they tend to end on a positive or at least hopeful note so this is hard. maybe nothing we were ever trained for ? or take this longing from my tongue if it was finished lol, the last chapter’s pretty angsty

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? probably put your arms around somebody else. just a coupla goofballs being dumb and gay (platonically)

8. Do you get hate on fics? not yet and hopefully never. i’ve had some low reading comprehension takes tho

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? ooh so. i would. and i might. especially the angsty thematic and insightful kind

10. Do you write crossovers? yes :3 i don’t even have my longest one posted and i fear it never will be

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? god i hope not

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? no but i have gotten comments in other languages which means someone translated it, if that counts lol

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? noo but i absolutely would

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship? i’ve never shipped anyone or anything (/j i just can’t choose)

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? either my aos high school au (the outline is delicious but it refuses to be written) or that kate/yelena road trip thing. i actually really want to finish that one too but it’s been soooo long

16. What are your writing strengths? i’ve been told i keep things in character really well esp. dialogue, which is super cool and i’m really glad things come across that way. one thing that helps is to take real lines from the character and write them out to see how their speech actually looks written and not spoken, i figure stuff out better that way

17. What are your writing weaknesses? umm sitting down. writing. completing literally anything. not deciding i hate my wip and deleting the entire thing (i’m getting better about the last one, at least i keep my old drafts now)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? well the only other language i’ve done dialogue in is russian and i do not remotely know russian. so that part is google translate. that said, every “writing bilingual characters” advice post has said that real people don’t mix languages midsentence, but i really think that depends because where i’m from, you hear a lot of spanglish, which is definitely mixed throughout the sentence, so you know. don’t believe everything you see online i guess? anyway those are my thoughts

19. First fandom you wrote for? ough i’ve been writing for a long time so i don’t even really know. but first official fic? gotta be criminal minds. jemily <3

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? GODDD I DON’T KNOWW!!!!! maybe we’ve got to hold on to what we’ve got. i like whump and i like writing it, and i think it’s really in character not to mention it was very popular.

this took me forever to finish but trust me it was soo much fun i love talking about myself it turns out <3

tags!!

@spadesmusings @katebishopofearth @lucifers-golden-bitch-apparently @quietlyimplode @thewickedverkaiking

no pressure as usual, and anyone else who wants to do this please please do!!!

[chaiandsage]

Hello, it is me, I am back. I'm being insane about TL... again... It's my constant state at this point I fear.

Anyways, I was making myself a playlist for the story and was wondering if you had any songs that you personally associate with the fic and/or characters.

I may or may not also be reformatting the bind for a second print with a couple new features (that may or may not pretty much just be making all the comms messages formatted with the Minecraft font so they look more authentic... That's... definitely not the only think I am changing.... Listen, I know I'm insane, we do not need to talk about it)

Okay, so, sorry for the delayed reply, but you probably had no idea just how insane this question was going to make me. Because a lot of these songs are ones that I hold very close to me and some, in one way or another, were even the inspiration for a lot of major plot points that happened in the story. Others, however, I got really into while the fic was still being updated because some of my readers would comment about their own songs that they connected to Trust Life or would even make entire playlists for it--which I LOVED. So anyway, here's two different lists for each of those, complete with explanations that no one asked for on why I think they vibe with the story :D

My Personal Vibes

So quick side story, I worked in retail while I was writing up the story outline for this and most of my job involved doing some very repetitive and boring tasks that left plenty of brainpower to spare for me to think about and plan out the story while I was doing them. And I'm sure you know that most stores will just play a bunch of generic, upbeat, bubbly, pop music on loop the entire day (I kinda vibe with it ngl, but I get that it's not for everyone), but that was what I had to listen to throughout the day and like it or not, that was the music that I ended up coming up with a lot of ideas and fixing a lot of plot holes to. And honestly? I wouldn't have had it any other way. But my point is, if a few of these songs are kinda cheery sounding and don't seem like they have that much to do with the story's usual theme, just know that that's why, lol.

Can't Remember to Forget You - Shakira

Something, something... memory loss, Scott and Jimmy forgetting they were already a couple during Double Life... Neither of them being able to forget each other after the breakup--plus that one "kissing in the moonlight" line inspired that flashback scene that Scott had in chapter 43.

Part Of Me -Noah Kahan

Recognize the title? Chapter 30 baybeee. This was kind of how I wanted Tango's feelings for his previous boyfriends to come off. Not all of the lyrics are accurate, but most of it matches the tone I was trying to go for.

Pick Me Up - Sam Feldt, Sam Fischer

This one made had me thinking about snowbugs 24/7 and for as arguably disconnected from the theme of the story that the lyrics are it had absolutely no right to inspire as many scenes in this fic as it did. It's how I came up with how Scott's escape went after stealing the enchanter back in chapter 31 with him jumping off the roof (fun fact: that fight was originally gonna be during the day and it was gonna be Scott who threw the water and TANGO who jumped, but I changed it). It's also the inspiration for chapter 45 when they're storming the fortress and Scott and Tango have to help protect each other. ALSO--Remember the title to chapter 49??? Yeah, that's literally just one of the lyrics from this song. It freakin inspired the burning garden scene too. Get this song out of my head man, it's taken over my whole personality at this point...

Good Grief - Bastille

More of Scott and Jimmy just missing each other achingly and Scott in particular only being able to watch from the sidelines as Jimmy "moves on" with another man.

Still Into You - Paramore

Pretty self-explanatory. Kinda captures the vibe of the ending imo. Could be applied to almost all of the relationships and not just our main throuple.

Find an Island - BENEE

JOEL AND ETHO!!--Something about them moving too fast in their relationship during Double Life, the "storm" that was them getting their memories back, how they drifted away from each other thinking they'd be better off going without any contact, and of course the whole shipwreck and sailing theme here was just screaming "boat boys" to me.

Avalanche - Christian French

Less on-the-nose, but still a really fun vibe to me. Basically the insanity that followed after Double Life. The players realizing their feelings for other people. Can sort of be viewed more from Grian's perspective since he more or less "started" all this or at least he partially blames himself for it even if he didn't as much as all his friends all thought he had. He started the small tumble that spiraled into an avalanche as the drama continued to influence nearly everyone he knew.

Stitches - Shawn Mendes

More of Scott beating himself up both mentally and physically as he goes through his breakup at the beginning of the story. He can't sleep, can't eat, can't stop thinking about Jimmy... He's barely dragging himself forward on two feet as it is.

Thank Me Later - Sigrid

SCAR AND GRIAN--Basically Grian's whole perspective on Scar. He thinks that the person he loves will be better off if he just let him go. He knows that Scar isn't going to let go of him easily, but he deserves better. He just needs to convince him of that and maybe, as painful as it will be for Grian, Scar will move on.

Sucker - Jonas Brothers

Mostly vibes. Tango, Scott, and Jimmy doing crazy things together during the first three days of the game. Scott and Tango continuing to be menaces to everyone together even after Jimmy died. All three of them being like: "Hey, let's break into people's houses. Let's set things on fire. Let's steal and murder and fight monsters together. And while we're at it? Let's fall even deeper in love--because I kind of just realized that all of this is only fun to me because I'm doing it with you."

Hate You - Poylow & BAUWZ

THIS FUCKING- Okay... I hate that this very simple tune that I heard over a freakin YOUTUBE SHORT ended up inspiring a scene that was so fun to come up with that never even made it into the final outline, but picture this with me for a moment:

Tango doesn't realize his feelings for Scott right before the Wither attacks back in chapter 50. Instead, they're closer to their base when it happens. They just got done having that whole tense argument and "confession" and are still holding hands and staring at each other when Scott points out Tango's eyes again, not knowing what it means. Tango's eyes go wide. He pulls away, running over to their fish pond to see his reflection and... Oh god. No. No, no nonono-- His breathing is picking up. Every soft, caring interaction he's ever had with Scott now pass through his head in a blur. He realizes it was love. Scott asks what's wrong. Tango doesn't respond. He can't. What would he even say? Instead, he curls into a ball and tries to control his breathing while Scott crouches down and puts his hands on him, holding him in a hug as he panics and tries to sooth him, telling him that it's okay even though he doesn't quite know why Tango is acting this way all of a sudden. Tango hates it. He hates that he's fallen in love again and through that, might have very well ruined everything. Instead of being blown up right away, they have a few minutes to talk to each other. And in that time Tango, still not in the right headspace and through panicked breathing, asks Scott the straightforward, hypothetical question: "If I were to break up with Jimmy after this game ends and tell him to go back to you, would you ever forgive me for it?" And Scott can only look at him, horrified as he tries to form some string of words that make sense enough to give a proper response to that question that even he doesn't know how to answer... Up until the wither comes back once more to blow them up before they can even have a real conversation about it.

Haha... Oh well. I don't regret cutting this out to make the plot flow more smoothly (I needed a reason for Tango to check his comm in that moment) and it's mostly the same reaction from Tango either way. But still, it would have been a very fun scene to write that might have added a bit more spice to everything that was going on at the time.

Curses - The Crane Wives

You knew there'd be at least one Crane Wives song in here. I don't think there is a single person in this fandom who hasn't heard this song yet. It would have been a disservice not to add it here. But other than that, obviously, it's the title for chapter 56. The chapter where everything goes wrong and all of the remaining players die in quick succession to Grian and his traps. It's definitely the kind of song you listen to when you're trying to picture a scene where everything is meant to to go wrong all at once. And I love it for that.

Allies Or Enemies - The Crane Wives

No explanation needed. To me, this is the enemies to lover's national anthem.

The Moon Will Sing - The Crane Wives

Another Scott POV song, 100% (can you tell he's my favorite yet?). But it could also apply to all three of the Flower Ranchers depending on which lyrics are being sung.

"I could have been anyone else" Scott not believing Jimmy when he says he fell in love with him back in Third Life in only a week's time like he had with Tango. Scott thinking that if that really were the case, then he could have been anyone to Jimmy. He is convinced that Jimmy could have stumbled upon and teamed up with any other player during that game and the result would have still been the same.

"Before you made the choice for me" Jimmy being sad and angry with Scott for not accepting that he loved two people and refused to choose between them. Scott making that choice for him by outright leaving instead of trying to talk things over.

"We walked in the dark", "I never gave a single thought where it might lead" Tango and Jimmy, them falling in love while being in blissful ignorance brought about by their amnesia. Not even taking a second to consider that what was waiting for them on the other side of Double Life wasn't all rainbows and sunshine.

"All those empty rooms" Scott feeling alone, going back to a home that feels empty, one he used to share with the person he loved.

"I shine only with the light you gave me" Could be applied to Tango or Jimmy. They have self confidence issues. Tango thinks that Jimmy is the only one who isn't afraid of him. Jimmy thinks that both Scott and Tango could do better than him at some points in the story. They complete him. His life would feel so dim without them in it.

"We could have had anything, anything else. Instead you hoarded all that's left of me." Scott again. He and Jimmy could have had so many more long, happy years together. All that potential is gone now. Why did he have to leave him? Why did he have to such a large chunk of Scott's heart with him when he left?

"I wanna feel the fire that you kept from me." Kinda silly, for a while I thought this line was "kept FOR me" and not "kept FROM me", and I tied it to the act of Jimmy and Scott keeping their hearts warm for each other (whether they wanted to or not) in case the other decided to come back to them. They were mad at each other, but in all that time their love hadn't dimmed in the slightest. But after reading the actual line, I now think it's giving more like, Tango letting his fire out and Scott and Jimmy both accepting that as part of him with open arms, each during their own separate points in the story.

Songs from Readers' Playlists That I Fell In Love With

Can't Sleep Love- Pentatonix

Scott is a tired, tired man.

Your Stupid Face - Kaden MacKay

2nd enemies to lovers national anthem.

Hot Tea - Half Alive

Lots of themes of tea and love going on here.

The Fall - Half Alive

The person who added this song single handedly got me into Half Alive and made them one of my favorite bands.

Human Touch - Olen

Themes of waking up, breaking up, touch starvation... Also just a really fun listen in general.

Where We Started - Bailey Bryan

I think they added this as more in reference to Scott and Jimmy and how they were reconnecting during the first half of the game. But honestly? I listened to this back when the fic was only updated to chapter 29, and as the only person who knew how this whole story was meant to wrap up, it made me think more about the ending, or more like the final few chapters that I had planned out at the time where Jimmy and Scott finally figure out the kind of love that they want from each other after the game ends and try to figure out how to get back to how things were between them before their breakup. And it's a bit of a messy path for them to take, with them being all hesitant to kiss each other at the start of it, but they make it back to where they were before eventually, and I think this song captures all that beautifully.

Dandelions - Ruth B.

Ties to flowers, hopes, dreams... This one had no right to make me as emotional as it did, but damn.

Ocean Eyes - Billie Eilish

TANGO SEEING SCOTT'S EYES--Seriously, he is so transfixed by them the entire fic and only finally gets to see their true color in the last few chapters. I love this.

Human - Christina Perri

"I CAN STAY AWAKE FOR DAYS IF THAT'S WHAT YOU WANTTTT"

Scott again with his self-destructive tendencies during the majority of the fic. He is very sad. This also kind of reminded me of Jimmy? Just cause its both him and Scott who are hiding their true emotions throughout the story.

Head Over Heels - Tears For Fears

@Milo-media made an animatic of the fic to this song and now it lives rent free in my head. What happened here. I don't even like 80's music but this song has been on my personal playlist for months now...

Go check it out if you haven't seen it cause it's awesome: https://www.tumblr.com/milo-media/740042336270254080/this-song-is-so-snowbugs-based-of-the-fic-trust?source=share

That's everything (I think?). If you actually did read all of that then... I'm sorry. Lol. Seriously though, please feel free to message or @ me if you ever post your full playlist. I will literally never get enough of people giving me the songs they think relate to Trust Life.

And if you'd like to see the full playlists made by the other beautiful people who read the fic, they can be found right here:

Playlist by Checkmace (Ao3):

Playlist by @nerdyenby (Tumblr):

Playlists by AndIcarusFell (Ao3)

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLg1d9yowJk-82qWZlR3CyiY5Ihf926JPJ

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLg1d9yowJk-9oXUPWiB--1Zy_3W6BNdsm

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLg1d9yowJk-_YpVm8Ex_wgfQee3sXTUXU

[grapenehifics]

💖👀🥰 please!

For this ask game!

💖 What made you start writing?

Reading fics and watching Clone Wars. I was perfectly content to just keep reading other people's fics into perpetuity until I got an idea of my own (while watching Clone Wars) that wouldn't leave me alone, and I thought, this is going to be too much work to write (and I was right; it totally was too much work; I don't know what I was thinking) so it'll just live in my head.

Then I started to think about the fics I was reading and enjoying, and what if those authors had said 'I'm not going to bother writing this down/sharing this' - then I wouldn't get to read all these great fics! And I started feeling kind of guilty for reading and not sharing (which isn't true; there's plenty of benefit to being a reader and not a writer *especially* if you're leaving comments but that wasn't how I was framing it at the time), and also it was early lockdown at that point and I was working from home and I had the time to fiddle around with it, and the more I wrote out an outline and started drafting the more fun I started having, and it was addicting so I kept going and then I started a second fic and thus both Solsbury Hill and An Uncivil War happened.

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

Okay! I shared a piece of The Last Waltz here, but that's my main WIP so I'm going to choose another. This is from the scene where Rex is helping Anakin get ready for the ball where he will meet Obi-Wan for the first time (cue Beauty and the Beast soundtrack here: "Here's where she meets Prince Charming! But she won't discover that it's him 'til chapter three!")

“Please tell me there’s no top hat, at least,” Anakin said as he turned to look at himself in the full-length mirror. “The tails are bad enough.”

“This event will be taking place entirely indoors, so no hat required,” Rex said calmly, standing back to admire his handiwork.

“This makes me look like I have no ass at all,” Anakin complained, and Rex tried very hard to stifle a snort.

“I’m sure that’s not true, sir.”

“Yes it is. And call me Anakin,” Anakin said firmly, turning away from the mirror. He was tired of looking at himself anyway. And besides, he already knew what he looked like in a tuxedo; he’d certainly been forced to wear one on enough occasions over the last couple of years, as if somehow his life was trying to make up for the fact that he’d spent the first sixteen in nothing more expensive than jeans from JC Penney’s. The idea of ever actually putting on a tuxedo, much less owning more than one, and all tailored specifically for him, had been about as foreign a concept to him as actually becoming a real-life James Bond would have been, and both things were about equally as unlikely.

(He even had the watch for it. Anakin’s watch, Qui-Gon had boasted proudly, was an Omega Seamaster 600M, which meant, for some reason, it would remain waterproof at depths and pressures that would destroy the rest of Anakin’s body in less time than it would take to say ‘Help! I’m drowning!’ Anakin was still unclear as to why this was a good thing.)

Speaking of watches. “Time to go, Anakin,” Rex said, and held the door open for him.

🥰 How do you feel about reader interaction? Are you open to receiving questions about your fics?

I adore it! I'm just slow about answering haha. But I will eventually and I do love to talk about both my and other people's fics, and writing in general. That's half the fun of it - I mean I always say I would write even if no one was reading but me, just because I enjoy it, and that is true, but sharing them and talking about them and making friends from them is a joy. We have a fun little community that I'm really, really grateful for.

Thank you for the ask!

[scrumpylikesthings]

I’ve been sitting with my feelings on this for a couple of days now and think I wanna talk about it. 

I tried out SudoWrite. I was curious so I just poked around for 10 minutes or so. I put in a paragraph of Meat Cute and had it do a predictive next sentence. Then variations on a sentence. I put in a rough outline of Meat Cute, rough descriptions of David and Micah, and let it run a full outline, full character descriptions, all the way to writing the first chapter. 

It was bad. It was cringey bad. It was so gawd awful bad. 

And yeah it did make me feel a little better about my own writing, but it really bothered me. It hurt. It really upset me. I went in thinking it would be funny haha or maybe even a little helpful, mostly expecting just a waste of time, but damn. I was not expecting that gut punch. 

I can’t quite place it either. Maybe it was seeing my characters get skewed or seeing them written so horribly. Maybe it was looking at this bastardization of my own work. Maybe the cringe was just that cringey.

Maybe it was bigger. Maybe it was looking at a brand new way to pump out swill and drivel for mass production and publication and turning my craft into another consumerist vehicle. Another tool for contrepreneurs to exploit and cut out the underpaid ghost writer entirely. 

Or maybe it was the way it felt like a mathematic formula. It felt exactly how it was: feeding my raw materials into a machine, pulling the lever, and getting the distilled grey cube at the end of the conveyor belt; like a Looney Tunes. That it took the magic out of writing, the romanticism of crafting prose, the feeling of learning and growing and creating and evolving as an artist. It was sterile. Maybe seeing these characters that I’m invested in (probably way too invested in) get turned into these antiseptic cardboard cutouts hurt on an irrational and personal level. 

I had these kind of feelings years ago (before I started writing fic) when I knew I wouldn’t be able to sell the stories I was writing, that I would never make money as a writer, that the stories I was working so hard on weren’t up to snuff with the market. I HATED thinking like that. It hurt to think like that. That while I was creating stories I wanted to be writing, I was still thinking about other people. And this AI bullshit feels exactly like that: making stuff for other people. 

I can see a way it’d be useful for someone; someone who might be stuck in writer’s block or need help with their outline or can’t figure out how to word a sentence. But I have the shower for that. I have long walks and music and friends I can talk things out with. 

I’m still upset and shook and riled about this. I think I’m just going to avoid AI generators and news about them. Just not think about it unless it forces me to.

I recommend avoiding SudoWrite. Its not worth it. 

Anyways, cringe under the cut:

I cannot tell you how much I HAAAAAATE mirror descriptions. . . buzz cut 42 year old. 

I . . . I just. . . 

im dead  Weirdly enough, it got that it takes place in Ohio right. Guess you can take out the art, but you can’t take out the Ohio. 

[syneilesis]

Things I've learned and realized writing the fics for Inky's one-week challenge:

I'm a very slow writer; I genuinely struggle writing at least 500 words in one sitting. On good days, I can do 200 words. Inspired, maybe more. Ficlets like ekphrasis and others take me an entire day to finish. It's probably because I start writing with only a vague idea of how to go about it, or I only know the mood but not the details. I'm self-aware enough to be cognizant of my strengths and weaknesses, and I tend to stick to what works for me.

I've always wanted to write lengthy fics! But I never was the kind of writer who could hit more than 10k-word one-shots. My style doesn't lend to that kind of length. When I saw Inky's challenge and read that the max word count per entry is 500 words, I thought to myself, Ooh, I think I can do that. Regardless of the prompts -- though they help too; dialogue and AUs lend to a broadness that appeal to my rigid brain. A 500-word fic means in most cases a one-scene fic. Which frees my mind of context necessary to establish a setting. I don't have to come up with an elaborate backstory and/or explanation why this detail is like this, that detail is like that -- AUs as a trope can fill in the missing pieces to make your fic coherent.

My first fic entry was something that I plan on writing in the future, so it's easy to write it, but it still took me longer (but still within the range of my speed). My second, third, and fourth, I tried something a bit different: I used StimuWrite, an app that helps you focus on writing -- it's also known as a writing tool useful for people with ADHD.

It has a simple UI, with a word count goal and emojis that appear whenever you type words. I chose these settings: darker background (it doesn't hurt the eyes) and typewriter sfx for that legit typing feel. I may put in a bgm from youtube or something, but sometimes I just want to listen only to the sounds of typewriter keys.

I tried StimuWrite before, but it didn't work for me. I gave it another chance this time, and oh lord it's very effective???!???!!!!! I finished 3 fics in under a day. So last Sunday I wrote give or take 2,000 words, which truly blew my mind. As an aside, I recommend you try StimuWrite; it might be effective for you too.

Because of that surprising writing streak, I continued using the app for the rest of the fics. And that writing streak persists! I feel relieved, I feel elated, I feel like I can do this. It's as if my brain loosened up enough to let me do what I want. I'll definitely use StimuWrite in my other fics too --

-- with some conditions, of course. All I know right now is that it works for me if I have a target word count in mind (under 600) and that it's only concentrated on a single scene. So I could focus on one scene whenever I open up the app. But that means that I have an outline of my fic, which isn't a problem for me because I like the mental exercise of outlining. I hope that this would help me come November, as I'll participate in Nanowrimo with my original story project.

Another point I've realized is that limiting yourself with a word count improves your editing skills. I do edit and revise my fics -- but they're mostly in the sort of 'i'll delete this passage because it no longer fits' and 'i'll rephrase this because it sounds awkward'. But in the cases of my sixth and seventh event fics, I had to pare them down because I exceeded the word count requirement. Initially I was reluctant to remove passages but I had to. So I did. I removed some bits and details of the story but rephrased others to still fit them in. I have to shorten some scenes -- and this is revelatory to me somewhat -- which is actually effective for fast-paced action scenes that needed fewer words but with the largest possible impact. Sometimes, shorter is better. It made me productive, for one.

Anyway, this got long wtf? I don't even know if I was coherent about it. There are still a lot of things I'd like to improve on -- such as relying less on my crutch words and metaphors. I haven't the opportunity to read a lot lately, so I need to try at least one page a day. The book I'm currently reading has been sitting on my desk for months. Back then, when I said I wouldn't make a list of read books per year to stop pressuring myself, I didn't mean not to read books at all lmao.

I don't know how to end this post so here's a gif of a puppy on a bowl:

[kidflashimpulse]

Hey!! I hope your doing well! I wanted your advice because your such a good writer, do you have any tips for starting to post on Ao3? I was inspired recently to try something new with all the ideas bouncing around my head. I just hope my works don’t turn out shitty or anything because that’s just how my brain works lol. Anyway, I would love to hear any advice :)

plsdfg u don’t need to be so sweet to get advice <3 lol sorry jk

personally i started writing when i was so consumed by all this (in my head) world/plot building that i just had to write it out somehow. That started by just writing everything out in a really boring/straight to the point way as if i were just describing events to a friend or something. That became my practice of writing out an outline of the “whole” fic, so that u have a vision of what direction your writing is going and especially useful if u plan to post multiple chapters. In an ideal world, i’d have completely written up a fic before posting but that’s just not possible (for me) cause of time constraints, so i find an outline really helpful for this so u know what you still need to write when ur stuck like half way through or something but also keeps up the motivation to see your story to completion (i say this despite not having finished a multi chaptered fic yet oops lol)

i find this helpful too for one shots, just in general to map out a complete story.

besides that, i think the best two pieces of advice i read from authors that i think are super amazing was the following:

- quantity over quality

- there will always be someone out there who writes better than u

now they might not sound amazing and the first one a bit counter intuitive but i find them both super motivating and useful! The first one especially because it works on the best piece of advice of how to start writing/posting: you just gotta start writing it out.

again a bit silly but also something u might’ve heard from others too, because it’s also true. basically, it’s totally normal and very understandable to have reservations/feel nervous over your own writing. But the best thing to do is to simply start and keep going, writing as much as you possibly can, because it guarantees improvement with every sentence you write. You really do learn as u go, it makes you reflect on ur own process and what works best for u, and to analyse ur own work/criticise it, and then develop it to a point where you feel like “yeah ok this is alright”. It truly doesn’t need to be amazing, because everyone is their own hardest critic and others probably are way less harder on u and will see quality/strength in ur own work!

that’s why quantity over quality is definitely the way to go, because just writing is the only way to just keep improving ur own quality. And i find this to be so true out of experience because my first ever (unposted) fic was multi chaptered and whilst i had this whole vision for it i got stuck at some point and lost steam for it. So then i moved on to another fic hoping to get back into the swing of writing in general. It was supposed to be way shorter and silly and fun, which in the end, turned out to be the first fic i ever posted. It was crazy to me how different the writing quality from A Night Ins first chapter is compared to most of my first ever unposted fic. And even within A Night In, i really did feel like my writing was slowly improving with each chapter. And then it became so much bigger (to me) than what it was initially planned to be like. Basically, the best thing u can truly do is just to start writing because you figure things out along the way and build your own rhythm. Also the best part is, you’re not forced to post anything you write, that choice is entirely on urself! Don’t feel pressured to post if u feel uncomfortable, but also don’t take it too seriously with the expectation that it needs to be perfect. It’s all at your own pace and most importantly, for your own enjoyment! Because theres nothing cooler than being able to share things u like, with others to enjoy too.

that’s where the second piece of advice comes in. I find remembering that there will always be a better writer helpful because it’s a reminder that ur own work truly doesn’t need to be perfect to be worth posting! You work on it until ur satisfied that ur vision/story has been made in a way that u can share it with others, that’s what it’s rlly all about. Because quality is both subjective (to an extent) and only something that can (objectively) be developed with practice/experience, but coming up with stories/ideas/plots etc, that’s something unique, no matter what it is, it’s in ur head. That, coupled with the intention of wanting to share it with others to enjoy it with u is the coolest thing, and who knows, u might also inspire others to also then share their own ideas :D (fan art/fics/theories have always been the most inspiring stuff to me)

so when u start posting, not only r u doing something rlly cool, sharing ideas/stories with ppl of the same community, but also working on ur own skills. I re-read what i have posted with the intention of catching typos etc or to see if i missed anything (i usually have but i’m so lazy so i still haven’t corrected them lol) and i just find it so cool to see my own development with each update, so i find that pretty motivating for continuing to work on things! And i’m not embarrassed by my past work, even when i think my older stuff is comparably worse than my newer stuff (especially that unposted one lol) but i feel really proud of them, because they’re what got me into writing and posting in the first place, and i’m sure others feel the same too. So don’t let self-criticism stand in ur way of doing something that u might really love and enjoy.

honestly, it sounds like uve got all the motivation and incentive and the right mindset already, the only thing is to not get too hung up on the fear of expectations, and you will be fine :D

very cool that ur planning on posting and hope u enjoy the process :) looking forward to reading ur ideas/work sometime :D good luck ! and i hope my advice was somewhat helpful lol apologies for the essay like rambles 😅

[seaofolives]

behind the scenes of fic writing—answered by me!

list of questions right here!

answers down below!

What was the first fandom and/or pairing that you wrote fic for?

it was rpf for a band AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Do you participate in any writing events or challenges throughout the year? If so, what do you like about them?

I do! I've made a vow to hold back tho as of this year and I'll likely do the same for the next year bc they could really burn you out. but mostly I like the challenges! I like discovering what kind of story I can tell that is restricted by the theme or prompts, I like fitting as much prompts as I can in a single work, and I like working through the pressure with my writer friends! there's a point where the grind and the panic is fun and really brings out some surprising stories, but it can only happen too often before it starts to get toxic on you, you know? XDDD

Do you write fics from start or finish, or jump around?

start to finish. i never learned to do otherwise bc that's the only way i know to do build-ups, pacings, and i like peppering inside jokes? and call backs into my fics where possible and that sort of stuff, i don't plan for in my outlines

Do you outline before you start writing? If so, how far do you stray from that outline?

I do, yes! I didn't used to and I used to feel so powerful that way but writing stories, I'm always scared about losing my ideas mid-way and I writer in peace more if I have them noted down somewhere so it really helps me. normally I only do this for long fics or zine fics (just so I have a fall back for the first check-in XD) and in both instances, let's say...i stray from my outlines by p much 30% to 60%? highly subjective measurement. the longer the fic, the more I stray from it XDDD

What is the perfect environment for you to write in?

I just need some place quiet. since I'm comfortable with writing on my phone, I just need somewhere I can hear my thoughts 🥰

If you’re really concentrating, how many words can you write in a day?

average of 1k words in 2h. I know I've been able to write like 3k+ a day but that's for special circumstances and if I can help it, I don't want to do that XDDD

Which part of writing do you struggle with most?

surprisingly these days? the lack of pressure XD since I've stopped writing for events for now, it's taken me longer to warm up with the writing mood bc I'm not chasing anything anymore. one day, I'd like to get back to the habit of maintaining a healthy schedule based solely on my list of fics I'd like to do but I guess the context switch is taking its time XD

Do you listen to music while you write? If so, share a song that’s been inspiring you lately.

I used tooooo!! but I'm a boring gramma now who can only write in silence 😭 music still serves as a huge inspiration for me tho. I love song fics, I think there's smth very special and genius?? about weaving an entire world within another world. it's like amvs and fanmixes, but another format XD

Do you prefer to write AUs, canon divergence, or canon-compliant fic?

always prefer canon over everything else. I'm one of the few who runs a shelter for the canon that everyone seems to reject on principle but like. while others dismiss canon as smth seemingly unnecessary and inferior? i like to treat canon with a little more respect and honor bc fan-fiction wouldn't be here if the canon never existed, anyway. if I wanted to throw it out the window for whatever reason, you can bet I'd be writing more original stuff by now

next to that, tho I prefer aus! but the aus I like to write still tend to have a healthy touch of canon influence on them. I just really like playing only within the boundaries of the canon sandbox, like it's easy to bake a banger cake if you have an entire grocery store at your disposal, but what if you only have 5 ingredients? that's smth i enjoy.

Do you enjoy writing dialogue, exposition, or plot the most?

dialogue! my exposition and plot also tend to happen by dialogue I think XDDD

If you could only write angst, fluff, or smut for the rest of your life, which would it be?

angst, easily

Is there a trope you haven’t written yet but really want to?

i could probably write more relationships of convenience stuff 🤭

Is there a trope you wouldn’t write if it was the last trope on earth?

amnesia, I guess? mostly bc I think I've seen enough of those stories from our telenovelas when I was younger XD;;; so it's likely going to be the last trope i have in mind

If you were stuck on a desert island with only two characters, which would you pick?

on the context of writing fics? gladio and ignis

A Hollywood producer tells you that they want to film just one of your fics. Which fic would you want it to be?

tough question!! but it would probably be a fic with traveling and nice locations?? so one of my altissia fics for ffxv, or even "last rites", maybe "5 kilometers" for joche. things like that

What is your most underrated fic?

judging by the number of hits and kudos, the amount of time it's been up and my emotional labor? rn it's looking to be "the house at the end of thommels glade" which was the first ever zine piece I've done!

What fic are you most proud of?

i love all my fics equally lmao hehehehe and i don't really have favorites depending on how it was received by readers? so for obvious reasons, I think pick one of the many 100k+ word fics I've written 😂

What is a line/scene you’re really proud of? Give us the DVD commentary for that scene.

off the top of my head, it's this one in recent memory from "hand and shield" xii:

—

Noctis nodded at Talcott when the little boy asked to be excused so he could help Iris and Ignis set down the plates of fresh grill on the table. That left him no distractions, then, to notice Gladio watching him.

“What is it?” There was impatience in his tone when he asked.

Half a king but still completely a dick. Gladio snorted, smirking in bemusement. “Just never thought Iʼd see you play the cool uncle one day,” he lied.

“Hey,” Noctis suddenly snapped in attention, eying Gladio with what was pretty much a threatened look, “Iʼm still too young to be an uncle!”

“Prince Noctis just turned to Uncle Noctis!” Prompto laughed.

“Idiot, weʼre all uncles to Talcott,” Gladio snickered, putting his temple on his fist. “I remember being in the hospital when that kid was born.”

“Thatʼs you. Iʼm more like,” Noctis tossed his shoulders up, trying to act suave, “the cool brother.”

—

and I remember being sad I couldn't explain it very well but prompto's line up there is a pun in the japanese language and since I played the game in Japanese, that's how I came up with it XD to explain, 'prince' and 'uncle' in japanese are homonyms so that's what I was hearing in my head. 'prince noctis' would be noctis-ouji while 'uncle noctis' would be noctis-oji XDDD obviously, i still think about that to this day

Who is the easiest/hardest character for you to write about? Why?

easiest character is gladio bc I've written him a lot XDDD hardest at this point? keith goodman which is also the reason why I'm taking ages with my taibani fic lmao. like he has a defining characteristic yes but idk who he is to me underneath that, you know?? so that's still what I'm finding out! hell jin sakai is a bit easier!

What’s your favorite minor character you’ve written?

oka :D i think i do a nice oka!

What is the one fic that got away?

LORD a lot of them but "love is a universal language" for sure (planned at 60k words, ended up in 140k)

Have you cried while writing a fic?

like a narcissistic idiot yeah. once during noct's death, another while i was projecting my melancholy for my gramma on gladio.

If you had to remix one of your own fics, which would it be and how would you remix it?

let's just say i have a planned sequel for "his beauty does not touch me" and i have Several fics in filipino i have to translate into english

How did you come up with title for [x fic]?

with pain. it doesn't matter what fic it is, more than half the time, coming up with the title is the worst experience of birthing that fic.

Which idea came to you first in [x fic]?

normally for most of my fics, especially the longer ones, I come up with scenes in the middle and further down the stories. and then I build bridges to connect them which are the plot lol

Which part of [x fic] was the hardest to write?

for explicit scenes, i actually have a really difficult time with the smut 🤣

If you were ever to do a sequel to [x fic], what do you think might happen in it?

kojiro and kaoru get married in the sequel of "his beauty does not touch me"

In [x fic], what is a happy, post-fic headcanon you have about [pairing]?

i like to think that sometime after "day and night", ravus and noct really become good friends and allies

Send me a word. If it’s in your WIPs, include the sentence and a short summary of the fic.

There is something simply legendary about Professor Gladiolus Amicitia. An alumnus of Lucis Royal University, he graduated with a bachelorʼs degree in modern Lucian literature, sailed to Accordo where he took up a second degree in world history and a masteral in cosmological history, went back to the university for a certificate in royal Lucian history and a third degree in premodern world literature…

I still want to expand on that prof gladnis in college au so this totally counts ok? the word I used is "art" from wordgamewednesday by ficwip 2-3 weeks ago

—

And now, he was teaching a course on Henruit, basic history, imperial romantic literature and subbed for Gilgameshian martial arts on the side. A typical overachieving brainiac as some might call him.

Tell us an idea for a longfic you want to write in the future.

gladio is a future CEO of a company his father owns and ignis is the gay window cleaner who was assigned to clean his windows. aranea is ignis' ex wife who still doesn't know she's ace. she chases after ravus' ass bc he's a wealthy guy and she likes money but the problem is that ravus isn't just ace himself, he's a grouchy one too. and uhhh smth smth tragedy at childhood binds both gladio and ignis to each other

[unoriginalmess]

A Second Mask: Chapter 4

Did that just happen?

Hello guys! It's me. I'm finally writing again. Sorry about the delay. I'm going to explain more at the end of the chapter, but I'm just going to keep the beginning short. So here is chapter 4:

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

To say Adrien was concerned would be a huge understatement. He was downright disturbed. Its been weeks and still Marinette hadn't changed back to the happy, peppy, nice girl that he knew. AND SHE WOULDN'T EVEN TALK TO HIM ABOUT IT!

He tried to talk to her for a whole week after her original trasformation, but after the repeated firm rejections, he stopped altogether. He figured that maybe with some space, she might be able to work through whatever she was going through, but at this point, he's losing hope.

When he is feeling this distressed about something, he usually turns to his lady, but she has been acting weird too. Ever since she suggested they start sparring, she's started to show that she is going through kinda a rough time as well. She is the same ladybug when everyone is watching, but when it's just the two of them, she looks sad and tired. She has also started saying some concerning things while they are sparring. She has started talking about how she has started taking being Ladybug and the Guardian more seriously, and how she has less distractions now, which would be a good thing if she didn't say them so sadly.

The good thing is, the sparring has given him a chance to get out his aggression because of the whole Marinette-situation and his anger at his father in a safe environment. He didn't like the idea of hitting Ladybug at first (especially in the face) but with her not holding back on her hits, he felt more comfortable doing the same. It has helped them fight better too. He hopes that whatever Ladybug is going through in her civillian life will work itself out soon, but until then he will be there for her. He just needs to figure out how to be there for Marinette.

•••

Felix was making good progress with Marinette. After they first asked marinette about (insert fashion question of your choice here, I legit know nothing and I didn't have time to research anything for this chapter), she had started answering their questions on a daily basis. After a couple of days of that, she had started to rant to them about different things in the fashion world that were bothering her, exciting her, or confusing her that particular day. In response to that, they had started to respond to her rants with their own opinions on the subjects and even start their own rants.

It had gotten to the point where Felix would now consider them to be friends, though they know that Marinette would never call them as such, it was fine with them. They know she has trust issues, and they can understand why, so they are fine with being friends in everything but a name.

Felix was looking forward to their daily banter as they waited in their seat for Marinette to arrive. When she did, she was followed by a very pissed-looking Alya. Felix turned to look at her and noticed that she had what looked to be tears forming in her eyes. What they didn't notice was the little black butterfly that had entered through the window in the back of the room, and was making a beeline towards her.

•••

Marinette walked to school in yet another one of her newest fashion creations: a pair of oversized grey ripped jeans and a navy blue sweatshirt. She was actually really liking her new look, and the comfort that it offered was just an added plus.

She was actually feeling excited to talk to Felix about Gabriel Agreste's newest fashion flop. They were the only person that she had met that actually cared about fashion as much as her. It made her happy to talk to them. It kind of scared her how excited she was. Shouldn't she be distancing herself from everyone? she thought to herself. No. Felix isn't my friend, they aren't close to me, they are just someone I talk fashion with. Like a coworker, yeah. Totally. Felix is just a coworker. ("Liar" says the inner voice in her head)

She was shocked out of her thoughts when she was pulled to the side by someone as she entered the courtyard. Her mind immediately thought of an akuma, when the person spoke.

"Marinette! Girl," Oh it's just Alya. Wait Alya? "How long are you gonna keep up this cry for attention? Are you really THAT jealous of Lila? I know that Adrien likes her, but that doesn't give you the right to act like this! And you are hanging out with Felix, who accused her of sexually harrassing Adrien on their first day here-?" She looked absolutely furious at her, but Marinette had heard enough. She cut Alya off in the middle of her presumably long rant.

"ALYA!" Said girl jumped at both the inturruption and the tone of voice used, "First of all, this isn't a cry for attention, if anything its a cry for leaving me the fuck alone. Second of all, I'm not jealous of Lila. I'm not in love with Adrien anymore, and haven't been for a while. You knew that I was dating Luka right? Why would I care who Adrien likes? Lastly, I am allowed to hang out with whoever I choose, whether you like them or not. It's none of your fucking business Alya, and if you think that I'm just some jealous, attention-seeker why do you even care?" With that last question she stormed off to the classroom, leaving a speechless Alya behind her.

When marinette sat down in her seat, she just kept thinking about how Alya was just talking to her. How could she think that about her? They used to be best friends, and Alya wasn't even concerned about her not talking to her anymore, she was just concerned about her being "jealous of Lila". It made her so furious that she could feel tears trickling down her face. She sees the black butterfly out of the corner of her eye and without hesitation grabs it out of the air.

(Next part is taken from this post by @bigfatbreak)

"Go ahead and akumatize me- See what happens, Hawkmoth!" She screamed the words with a slight madness that the energy of the akuma was giving her, "Every leash has two ends! I just have to pull until I find where you're holding it!"

At this point, the entire class was frozen in place watching her and listening to her crazed-sounding voice threaten an actual terrorist. Marinette felt Hawkmoth's confusion and terror through the bond. What in the- She's sensing me through the Akuma?! The akuma then started to fly away, and when it couldn't it zapped her hand like it was made of lightning and fluttered through the same window it came from. Marinette felt like she had failed yet again and collapsed down on her desk, muttering, "Uuuuggghh. It escaped anyway... What a waste. I didn't realize that Hawkmoth was such a coward. He usually likes grandstand..."

She was startled when her hand was picked up by Felix's, "You likely scared him off by managing to locate him like that... A risky move, I should mention. I would ask that you not attempt that a second time. No one knows what his akuma is truly capable of. You'll want to keep off of this hand for a while, too."

"Oh, are those the doctor's orders? Why, Felix, it almost sounds like you care about meeee." Marinette was all too amused by Felix's concern for her. She also liked to tease them... AS COWORKERS DO.

"I have an investment in your presence. Now don't be cheeky and let's get you to the nurse's office," They said while holding her wrist and gently pulling her in that direction.

Marinette scoffed, "'An investment in my presence'??"

Felix chuckled while still semi-dragging her by the wrist towards the front of the room, being careful not to hurt her injury even worse, "What did I just say about being cheeky?"

On their way out of the door they passed a VERY distressed-looking Adrien. He seemed to be sharing the sentiment with the entire class of: Did that just happen?

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

And thats chapter 4. It is VERY LATE! I know. I've been swamped with work, and when I went to write it, I had zero ideas on how to write this chapter. I never ended up getting those ideas. I just went where my writing took me, so if it doesn't really match the characters that's why. I will try to be better at updating regularly, but it probably won't happen. Sorry to everyone with a normal sleep schedule, but this is the time that I write things. Also I didn't have my outline with me while writing this chapter, so it might not have everything I planned to write in it.

I would like to thank you all for all of the support I've been getting on this fic. Despite all of the chapter delays, you guys have stuck with me through all of it, so thank each and every one of you. I love seeing so many people loving this au as much as I do. Without you guys this story wouldn't exist, and I would've stopped writing it after the first chapter.

As always, constructive criticism is always accepted. I love being able to improve my writing whenever possible.

Thank you for reading. Have a nice day/night/whenever you are reading this. See ya next time guys, gals, and non-binary pals.

Taglist

@queer-illusion @apasponsor @heckinggremlin @1-ahiro-1 @hewantedbeefintheparkinglot @sassakitty @lennauts @rianoel @dorkus-minimus @khneltea @welp-that-was-unexpected @mlnchlymrshmllw @lovelyautumnsunflower @chariphrasis @lovesbooks @komatsuna-yuki @polyvirnl @innocentlyguiltyfrenchfry @qhobias @ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole @hammalammadamdam @cloudydaysomewhere @alcoholic-barney @basenikon @xxbehindthemaskxx @corporeal-terrestrial @shadowymemoirs @moonlight-densetsuu

[emerald-chaos]

Touchdown

*gif not mine, credit goes to the owner*

I just want to take a moment to say thank you for the love on my last fic! It made my lil ole heart swell to see that peopled enjoyed it enough to leave a like or reblog.

This is just something special I had in my arsenal that I wrote for a friend a few months ago. I touched it up a bit and added a few things here and there. It all started when we were talking about how much we loved when Chris' accent got heavier after he'd been drinking, and well, I couldn't help myself lol. I hope you enjoy the fluff! xoxo

I apologize for any grammatical errors, I tried to proof-read but am also a little exhausted lol.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 2844

Warnings: I don't think there's anyway? Mentions of being drunk/drinking alcohol, cursing, and illusions to sexy times, but that's about it.

You hadn’t noticed how furiously your knee was bouncing up and down until the person sitting next to you on the subway got up to move seats once the train squealed to a stop. You sighed and ran your hands down the front of your thighs. Normally being a little late didn’t bother you as much, but tonight you were meeting him.

You flipped your wrist over to check your watch. 8:30pm. In all honesty, it had probably been only thirty seconds later than when you checked it the last time. Another deep sigh escaped from your lips as you started to become hyper aware of the train remaining still at the current stop. What could possibly be taking so long? You knew he wouldn’t care if you were running late, but the time the two of you had together already felt so minuscule. You wanted to capitalize on every second you could.

The train began moving again and you slumped back into your seat, feeling only a small amount of relief. It was becoming painfully apparent that you needed to try and relax. You could feel the sweat building up on your body, the sting on your palms from where your fingernails were pressing in with a vengeance moments ago, and you could hear your heart thumping in your ears. Your hand dug around in your purse for a few moments before finding the small case you were looking for. Opening it, you slipped your headphones into your ears and let your head rest on the window behind you as music intertwined with your thoughts.

Once upon a time, you made fun of people who decided to go to grad school. What kind of a clown would spend thousands of MORE dollars and go BACK to school?? Not to mention the stress of the assignments, the due dates - it was not for you...or so you thought.

Now here you are, a regular booboo the fool.

NYU’s graduate program for design and merchandising wasn’t necessarily part of your 5-year plan, but when the opportunity landed in front of you it was difficult to pass up. NYU was a school you had only dreamt of attending back in high school. When you were a senior in high school you were able to tour the campus and fell in love immediately. Hours upon hours were spent researching grants, scholarships, and all sorts of ways to try to make it happen. However, the dream ended as most teenage dreams do - crushed. There was no way you or your parents could afford the loans that it would surely wrack up to attend the out of state university, and there was no way you could ask your parents take on that kind of debt just so you could go to college. UMass was the way to go - close to home and familiar. Not to mention you were able to obtain several scholarships and grants that helped bring down the cost tremendously. Little did you know, boring ole UMass would bring you one of the most important things in your life.

Applying for graduate school wasn’t an easy decision and one you couldn’t really take all the credit for. A smile crept across your face as you reminisced on the night you nervously brought up the idea to your long-term boyfriend.

“I think you should do it,”

“I know, right?” you scoffed, “it’s insane, why would I do something so stup...wait, what? You do?”

“Of course I do. This is something you love and that you’re passionate about. Do you know how many hours of my life were spent listening to you ramble about NYU?” he questioned with a grin.

“It will open up so many doors for you. We can make things work,” a chuckle escaped from those beautiful lips as he saw your dumbfounded expression. He wrapped his fingers around your waist and pulled you close, “What? Did you expect me to forbid it? Cmon, baby, what kind of guy do you take me for?”

You didn’t have a lot of wins in your life, but you did have Chris.

When you got accepted, he took off a week from work to drive you 3 and a half hours south to help get you settled and moved into your temporary new home. The two of you ate a disgusting amount of pizza, moved a ridiculous amount of heavy furniture in the middle of a summer heat wave, and enjoyed each other’s company before the long-distance thing would set in. Chris spent that week encouraging you every step of the way, talking you off the ledge when you were convinced you had made the wrong decision, and made sure to help you christen every possible surface of your new place in the most deliciously sinful way.

You bit your lip slightly at the thought and a warm feeling spread across your face. Chris was one of the most incredible people you had met in this world. Kind, caring, funny, intelligent, passionate, and god was he sexy. The connection the two of you had was scary at first, but now you just couldn’t imagine spending your life with anyone else.

The robotic voice came over the loud-speaker in the subway car and you were rudely ripped back to reality as it pulled into your stop. You hurriedly scooped up your bag and jogged off the train.

It had been a promise between the two of you when you moved that there would be equal effort when it came to visiting and keeping in contact while having good, open communication. Long distance was hard but the two of you were determined to make it work. FaceTime calls, hours upon hours of texting, and even as far as writing the occasional letter back and forth (because your boyfriend was a hopeless romantic and you loved it so much). This weekend was your turn to come home to visit, and of course your last class had to go longer than anticipated. Fuckin’ Tiffany and her stupid ass questions.

The muscles of your calves burned as you kept up your hurried pace, weaving through the crowds of people gathered on sidewalks outside of various clubs and restaurants. It was a weekend night and the Patriots were playing, which meant the city was more alive than usual. New York was it's own beast, but it was a different type of hustle and bustle. Nights like these made your heart ache for home - the thick Massachusetts accents, the rowdy voices of bar patrons arguing about the game, the hugs shared between family members as they parted after dinner, and the faint smell of nicotine and alcohol that hung in the air.

As the neon sign that hung in the pub window came in to view you felt your heart dip down into your stomach. Last weekend’s visit had to be cancelled due to some stuff coming up with Chris’ work and a surprise assignment for you, so you hadn’t seen your boyfriend in 2 weeks. With a deep breath you swung open the door and scanned the crowd for him. He told you that he would be there promptly at 7:15pm for pregame shenanigans with his friends - which actually translated to how many pitchers of beer could they suck down before kick off.

“Aw, come ON! That is such a bullshit call!”

You heard him before you saw him. Of course. A grin spread across your lips as you shook your head. The thought of leaving to avoid secondhand embarrassment crossed your mind briefly before you picked up your feet and made your way through the crowd toward the sound. A room full of people from New England and you would still recognize that voice anywhere.

Everyone else seemed to fade away as you saw the outline of the tall, dark haired man standing at the bar. The slight freckles that spattered the back of his neck, the Brady jersey that he spent WAY too much money customizing, and the signature backward ball cap were ingrained in your subconscious memory. Not to mention if you didn’t recognize his outline or his voice, you would definitely recognize that ass anywhere.

You loved how passionate he got about sports and the way his Boston accent seemed to get thicker with each beer he consumed. Growing up in the area, you wouldn't think the accent would send a tingle down your spine the way it does, but it was different - it was Chris. Not to mention the sparkle in his eye when he would watch his favorite team or the way he would get in to arguments whenever someone tried to say something negative about them. You loved your big, handsome, over-sized toddler man so damn much.

A light tap on his shoulder made him whip around, his slightly opened mouth from his interrupted conversation curved upwards into a wicked grin as he made the connection of who was finally standing in front of him.

“Hey there, handsome. I don’t see a ring on your finger. You single?” You grinned, feeling your entire body fill with warmth as Chris leaned back and grabbed his chest as he erupted in laughter.

“Nah, nah, nah, unfortunately for you I am taken” he responded as he snaked his arms around your waist, sliding his hands into your back pockets as he pulled you into his figure.

“That is too bad,” you tsk'd, running a finger down his toned bicep, “she’s one lucky girl.”

“I think I’m the lucky one,” he grinned. He leaned down to meet your lips in a kiss. You sighed into it, allowing your body to mold itself so perfectly into his. The taste of beer on his lips and the smell of his cologne was intoxicating - it was home. You immediately allowed him entrance as you felt his tongue glide along your bottom lip. Your body felt small in his strong grip and you couldn’t help but laugh a bit as he gave your ass a firm squeeze. Normally, this type of bold, public display of affection would make you cringe away but at this point you were lost in Chris that you had absolutely no shame. Each time the two of you embraced had always felt like the first. Your heart still fluttered and your knees still got weak, like you were a 16 year old being kissed for the first time.

In the middle of your reunion moment, however, something happened in the game that made the entire bar erupt in boo’s and curses. Chris lifted his lips from yours to look over his shoulder and inspect what he had missed. You laughed and shook your head as you pushed him back towards his friends and took a seat in the bar stool he had been standing behind initially. His large hands found a natural place on your shoulders. While his eyes remained glued on the TV he began applying a moderate amount of pressure to your neck and shoulders. You didn’t realize how much your body craved that touch, his touch, until you immediately melted back into him.

The bartender slid a beer in front of you with a wink and you mouthed your thanks. You felt a twinge in your heart as you looked around, taking in the atmosphere of the bar. This was a typical weekend night for the two of you whenever you were living together. Football, drinks, pub food, and friends. If it wasn’t this pub it was your living room, just a couple blocks away. You didn’t even mind that it was your first night back and you weren’t alone, spending it immediately wrapped up in your satin sheets. The atmosphere, the people - it was so warm and familiar that you really wouldn’t rather be doing anything else. Plus, being wrapped up together in the sheets was sure to follow.

“I missed you,” hummed a pair of lips as they placed a kiss on the shell of your ear. A shiver shot down your spine at the sensation of his warm breath fanning over your neck. You reached up a hand and connected it to the nape of his neck.

“I missed you too,” you replied, turning your head to plant a kiss on his stubbled cheek.

His arms changed position as he wrapped them in front of your shoulders and crossed them, resting his chin on the top of your head. Your hand absentmindedly rubbed his forearms as you nursed your beer and placed your focus onto the game for the first time tonight.

The laughter seemed to escape from your chest naturally and effortlessly the entire night, as it always had a habit of doing when Chris was around. The camaraderie between him and his buddies during a game was something you’d grown to enjoy over the years. Chris’ competitive nature and the way his jaw clenched when something wasn’t going the way he wanted was always kinda...hot. All of his friends were huge assholes, but in the best way. It was always entertaining to hear them jab at each other and do what they could to rile someone up. They were the life of every party you had ever attended and they had a way of making a boring night a lot more interesting.

Thankfully (for the integrity of the bar) the Pats won the game with a surprise touchdown in the last 30 seconds of the game. Chris, being the guy he is, bought a final round for his friends and a nearby group they had been going back and forth with all night. You couldn’t help but laugh as he drunkenly leaned across the counter and slurred his order to the bartender.

“I need a round for m’friends and for these assholes over here who thought Tom Brady was anything but a winner!” the group started yelling in protest and he simply waved them off and started sliding beers down the bar.

The group eventually moved to a bigger round top so everyone could shoot the shit and banter about the outcome of the game. You were tucked into Chris’ side, hands intertwined as he was passionately discussing the importance of Brady’s legacy with a stranger who made the mistake of stopping to talk to him. Your eyes followed the motion of your thumb as it traced small circles onto the back of his. Your other hand under your chin, holding up the weight of your head as your exhaustion started to catch up with you. Chris, although slightly drunk, picked up on your body language and raised your hand to his lips for a kiss.

“Alright, fellas,” he said as he stood up from his seat, pulling you up with him, “the lady and I are gonna call it a night. See you boys next weekend”.

“Chris, we don’t have to go,” you began to protest as he tucked his jacket around your shoulders.

“Mm, ‘course we do,” he replied with a soft smile, “you’re so tired, baby. I can see it in those beautiful eyes”.

You could feel your cheeks turn a light shade of pink as you rolled your eyes at his attempt at laying it on thick. After what felt like a proper 10 minute goodbye session, the group said their final goodbyes, hugs included, and you walked out of the pub hand in hand.

The walk home was filled with the sounds of cars passing by and conversation of what each other had missed in the week prior. Small talk typically felt like such a chore, but with Chris every conversation came naturally. Even when he had absolutely no idea what you were talking about, he would listen intently and ask all the questions as if it was the most interesting conversation in the world.

The lock on the apartment door clicked as you pushed it open and entered. You smiled as you stopped into the middle of the living room, taking in the home you missed so dearly. A soft tapping of toenails against the hardwood made your heart soar as you met the eyes of your sweet pup, Dodger. A squeal left your lips as you squatted down to give love to the sweet boy. Chris always made fun of you when you came home, saying that you always seemed to miss Dodger more than you did him and I mean, he wasn’t entirely wrong about that statement.

Once again lost in your own world, you didn’t even notice Chris leaned up against the wall watching you with a smile.

“Oh my god,” you gushed, standing up, “do you like...like me or something?”

Chris grinned as he crossed the room and caught your belt loop with his finger, pulling you into him slowly.

“Yeah,” his voice had dropped down an octave, “you could say that”.

“Mm,” your tongue swiped across your lower lip and you wrapped your arms around his neck, “care to show me how much?”

The look in his eyes made your core burn. The tension building between you two became too much to handle as you crashed your lips into his. The kisses were messy and you could feel the sense of urgency between you two. His beard scratched against the column of your throat with a delicious burn as he left wet kisses across your jaw and down the side of your neck. Chris’ hands found their way back into the ass pockets of your jeans as he started walking you back towards the direction of the bedroom.

Soon, there was a trail of clothes leading to your bedroom and you felt very sorry for your neighbors. It had been a long time, but Chris always had a way of welcoming you home.

[legends-of-apex]

‘The Morning After’ - Kung Lao x Reader (fluff)

Rating: G

Word Count: 1,286

A/N: Hello! Here’s this short follow-up to the last Kung Lao x GN!Reader fic that also fulfils a request made by Anonymous! Thank you all so much again for your kind words and support for the last fic, you guys are amazing! Hope you all enjoy! Promise there’ll be some more soon, including some Liu headcanons ☺️ also if anyone would like to be added to my tag list for MK characters or just in general, please let me know! Didn’t want to assume so haven’t tagged anyone from the last fic just in case! Just so you guys know, I use quite hefty paragraph breaks just because it makes things easier for me personally when reading because of dyslexia, if you guys don’t like this or if there’s any adjustments I can make to have these fics be easier for you to read then please let me know!

Liu knocked on your door firmly, his knuckles reddening. He took a step back and folded his arms behind his back, not wishing to startle you when you came to the door. When he received no response even after a minute or so, a sigh escaped him.

He knocked again.

The sound was louder this time and he was sure you would have heard him now. With a sense of accomplishment, he flicked his red sash to the side and straightened his posture again in preparation for greeting you. No response. His brow furrowed. This wasn’t like you at all.

Knowing he probably shouldn’t but overcome with the need to see if you were in there, he eyed the doorknob. A pattern was beginning to emerge in his mind, Kung Lao wasn’t in his room either. He was worried something had happened and no one thought to wake him. But he had already asked everyone of his whereabouts and had already checked the fight pit. No one had seen you or Kung Lao all morning, although Kano did have a strange reply.

He turned the doorknob gently, only to find that door was unlocked. He let the door open just a crack and called out for you quietly. When again, he heard nothing, he opened the door even further this time and took a single cautious step inside.

Your room was dark, the curtains still shut despite the time of day. He could see your faint outline atop the bed in the darkness. A mound beneath the covers. And in the interest of not startling you, he crept quietly towards the side of the bed, once more questioning whether he should raise you from your slumber. But if anyone had seen Lao it was you and he wouldn’t be able to rest until he knew his friend was safe. He knew you would be concerned to learn of Lao’s absence and convinced himself he was doing you a favour by waking you.

He called your name into the darkness once more and a groan escaped you. He heard the covers rustling and lit the fire in his palm so he could walk to your bedside without tripping over everything that was strewn across the floor. He had never known you to leave things so untidily.

When he reached your bedside, he dimmed the fire slightly so as not to startle. He whispered your name again and let the flame illuminate your face ever so slightly.

A metallic clang sounded from across the other side of the room and something beside you on the bed moved. Liu was worried now. Letting his fire grow larger so he you and whatever else was in your room more clearly.

“Liu?” Your voice brought his attention back to you and away from the sound. You rubbed your eyes and pulled the covers over your face even more, shying away from the light of his flames.

The light from the fire caught the gleam of something metallic beside you. “Liu? I just about killed you!” Lui directed the flames so he could see the person attached to the second voice.

“Lao?!” The man in question brought his hand to his eyes to shield them from the light, lowering his hat and placing it beside the bed. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here? I could’ve sliced you!” He asked as you fumbled for the light switch and found it. You couldn’t help but wince as the sudden brightness flooded the room. Lao did too, flopping back down beside you now that he knew it was just Liu Kang creeping around your room.

Liu quenched his flame, “Looking for you!” He replied, eyes widening when he realised precisely what had transpired.

You lay on your side, covers pulled over your chest but your shoulders were bare. Lao’s torso was only half covered as he lay beside you. Suddenly the layer of clothes blanketing the floor and Lao’s absence from his own room made sense. A smile spread across Liu’s face as the full realisation hit him.

“What time is it Liu?” You asked, not entirely caring that he had essentially just caught the two of you in the aftermath of sleeping together.

“Late enough that your absence was a concern.”

You cursed. “Did Raiden notice?!” You asked, Lao took a hold of your hand.

“No, he is otherwise occupied.” You both breathed a sigh of relief and visibly sank back into your bed, “And I can see that you’re both more than okay, so I will be on my way. Apologies for my intrusion.” He shot Lao a knowing look, a look that said he was getting teased to high heaven later on. He was delighted for you both, truly he was but that didn’t mean Lao was getting off without getting teased.

“Don’t worry, you know I won’t breathe a word of this.” He told you, sensing your concern, “Please don’t keep each other too long, you both have duties to attend to this afternoon that require the presence of clothing.”

“An hour?” You asked, knowing you were pushing your luck but you truly couldn’t bring yourself to leave the comfort of your bed, especially not with Kung Lao beside you.

“An hour.” Liu nodded his head once and you would have gotten up to hug him had you not been bare. “But please lock the door next time.”

With that he slipped out the door and closed it behind him. You couldn't be bothered getting up to lock the door. You had no idea where your key was anyways. They were probably strewn on the floor somewhere along with the rest of the items you had on you last night.

You felt a hand glide around your waist once more and you turned to face Kung Lao where he lay beside you. His hair was a mess, all fluffed up and sticking out in all different directions. You smoothed it down by running it through with your fingers. His eyes closed at the feeling of your touch on his scalp and a content breath left him. When you were finished you let the back of your hand rest against his cheek. His eyes opened once more, his gaze so soft and full of adoration that you had to look away to save yourself from blushing.

“Good morning.”

“Morning.” You replied, a smile gracing your lips as he ran his fingers up and down your arm.

“So we have an hour…” He smiled, looking up at you from beneath his brows as he leaned to press a kiss to your shoulder. “We do indeed. How shall we spend such precious time?”

“Might I hold you once more?” Your heart melted. He really was just grateful for the chance to have you in his arms. You nodded eagerly in reply, shuffling closer to him. You were almost painted on to one-another like a second skin for most of the night, or until Liu came in as far as you could tell. He was such a warm presence that you found yourself forgetting what it felt like to ever truly be cold.

One of his hands found your thigh, helping you hike your leg over his so you could be closer to him. You let yourself cling to him like a teddy bear, utterly lost in the feeling of having his body so near.

“Rest if you need to. I can wake you when it’s time.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head before letting you nuzzle your nose into his neck. You could stay like this forever but you would have to settle for an hour.

@dragon-chica

[teletraan-meets-jarvis]

A Girl Like You

AO3 Link

Pairing: Little bit of Wolffe x fem!Jedi Reader

Summary: You end up having a lightsaber sparring match with Anakin and the clones watch on from the sidelines. Wolffe admires the view.

Warnings: 13+, Wolffe eyeing up the reader.

Word Count: 2k

Author's Notes: This is my first attempt at writing some sort of battle scene, I hope I pulled it off alright. This is mostly a fic about the Dathomiri/Mandalorian reader in order to help me practice writing battles, but I have thrown in Wolffe being cheeky because I couldn't resist. Any feedback is always appreciated, as are reblogs! Fic is below the cutoff, thanks very much for reading x

You’re not entirely sure how you got yourself into this situation. You’d been sitting among a few members of your battalion, the 104th, along with General Skywalker, Commander Tano, the usual suspects from the 501st and a few of the Coruscant Guard commanders, getting yourselves ready to head out for a night out among the lower levels of Coruscant. While you’d been waiting for the last few stragglers to get some fresh armour on before heading out, Anakin had somehow dragged you into some pissing contest about lightsaber designs and which were the most effective in combat. You carried a double bladed weapon, and Anakin had been poking you about how ineffective he’d found them to be in battle. You know he was just trying to get a rise out of you and you hated that it worked.

So that’s how you ended up here, with the challenge of a sparring match presented to you by Anakin. He wanted to test his theory as to what weapon was superior in battle.

“Loser buys the first round at 79’s for everyone” The General suggested. You looked around, there must be at least twenty of you heading out tonight, would your credits even cover that?

“You’re on.” Guess you could always get a few waters and lie to the men. Fox could probably do with a slow start to the drinking anyways.

The three Jedis present used the force to clear some tables out the way, creating a space for the fight. Ahsoka outlined some rules before the event began, which were; no force use on each other, no dirty tricks and please don’t actually hurt each other. Should the latter happen, at least they had Kix there ready to fix them up, even if he was supposed to be off duty.

Once the space was cleared, you got up from your spot amongst the Wolfpack who were hyping you up like you were some pay-per-view sports person about to head into the ring. The 501st boys were cheering for Anakin as Rex gave him a pep talk before sending him off into their makeshift battle arena.

The two of you took your spots opposite each other. You were both still wearing your usual battle clothes, just clean alternatives. Anakin’s fresh, dark coloured robes were neatly wrapped around him, his growing hair hanging just above his eyes as he readied himself for the fight.

You yourself were in a form fitting grey and white jumpsuit which flared slightly at the leg. The sleeves were short, showing off the grey Dathomiri markings on your arms which were dotted across your fair Mandalorian skin. Your whole ensemble was finished off with a single, battle-worn shoulder piece which carried the Wolfpack insignia. Your short blonde hair was in it’s signature half up, half down look, keeping it out of your way.

You both readied yourselves and your eyes met. You could feel the confidence radiating off of him and you knew exactly why. Despite being the same age as Anakin, you were still a Padawan under Master Plo. However, from your Master’s recent suggestions, that wouldn’t be the case for long.

You took a moment to calm yourself. Remembering your training, you let the audience disappear until it was just the two of you. You opened your eyes and readied your lightsaber. You took the handle and held it out in front of you, the space for the two blades coming out either side of your grip. You clicked the weapon on and it buzzed to life. Two green blades in perfect unison. You twirled the weapon around your fingers, pulling it to your side as you got into your initial stance. Leaning back on your right bent leg, your left outstretched in front of you, one half of your weapon inches away from the right side of your head, ready to go.

Anakin had done the same and with some flare, had gotten into his stance. You were both ready.

“After you, Skyguy” and with that, Anakin took the first lunge. You brought your lightsaber up just below your chin, holding it sideways to block his straight swipe down across your head. Your faces inches apart before you both pushed off of each other and started stalking around in a circle, waiting for who would make the next move.

An unspoken understanding in the air between you both, the knowledge that you could push each other to your limits, in a way the Jedi wouldn’t normally encourage in training. The thought sent a slight thrill through your body, you always went into every battle with utmost control, always trying to be a model Commander. You always had to prove to the council that you weren’t a threat, that you could the resist the dark side that came so naturally to your kind. But right now, for the first time, you could really let loose and trial your power with Anakin as you knew he’d be doing the exact same.

The tension in the room was thick, the focused stares between the Jedi entrancing everyone present as they danced around one another.

You both rushed to the centre of the space, sabres clashing right in front of your faces. A cyan glow lit up your features, both sporting wicked grins. The power you both held evident among the spectators. You thought you heard a few gasps from the crowd, but all your focus was directed at the Knight in front of you. His feral smirk held as he spoke from behind the clash of your weapons. “Don’t get too flustered now, I know I look great under blue light”

“Don’t flatter yourself, General” You chuckled as you pushed off each other. Stalking once more.

When you clashed again, it was all a blur. Hit after hit. He was relentless. Your weapons created a bright light show as you kept up with Anakin’s offensive. He pushed you further back, the wall behind you growing closer. You blocked his next hit and took a moment to plan. He was getting confident, too confident. You could use that to your advantage.

You ducked below his next swing and went for his legs, causing him to do a backflip back to the centre. Finally, some breathing room. Now it was your turn to go on the offensive. You charged forward and restarted the fast pace. Delivering blow after blow to Anakin’s defence. Your double blades keeping him on his toes as you made sure to never favour one side of your weapon.

You were both high from the strength you put on display, you don’t remember the last time you let loose like this. You were both sweating slightly, grinning at the enjoyment of such a challenging fight. One strike from Anakin had you swinging your lightsaber over you shoulder to guard your back, as you blocked a particularly dirty move from the General. From the sidelines, you heard Ahsoka reprimanding her Master and reminding him that this was only a sparring match. You raised your eyebrow at the General who just shrugged, still sporting a confident smirk on his face. It was on.

—————

The clones were mesmerised. Of course they’d seen their Jedis fight hundreds of times in battle, but they never had the time to just watch and appreciate. The pair were so different, where Anakin was like a controlled tornado, skill and strength on the brink of being unleashed. Your approach was measured, plotting, more like a slow song building up. Every move you made was calculated, as if you were playing a game of chess.

Wolffe couldn’t help but appreciate the view as you lunged an attack at Anakin. You and Wolffe had been fighting alongside each other for years now but he’d never really seen you like this. Your orange eyes sharp, body tense, feet light as you danced with Anakin. Green and blue clashing. Your moves so smooth and flowing into one another yet contrasted by displays of dangerous power, reminding him of the waters back on Kamino. You looked incredible and he couldn’t help getting pulled into the atmosphere, cheering alongside the rest of his brothers. There was a new feeling in his chest as he watched you battle. Their Jedi. His Jedi.

He continued to stare as the fight raged on. He bloomed with pride when his eyes found your Wolfpack insignia on your shoulder, which perfectly matched your battalion colour-scheme outfit. Speaking of, his eyes couldn’t help themselves as they drifted along your body, finding all the places where that jumpsuit hugged your small curves just right. The way your toned arms strained as you swung your weapon. The way your skin markings lead beneath the v-neckline you’d left at the front of your jumpsuit from the zipper, teasing almost. You were a vision. Maker get ahold of yourself. He shook his head, as if it would clear the racy thoughts from his mind. It didn’t.

Back at the event, there were lulls and peaks in the fight, moments where you were studying each other and others where your lightsabers were in near constant contact as you fought to keep up with the other’s moves.

“You’ve got this General, take her down” Jesse shouted from his position in the sidelines.

“Commander, kick his ass!” Boost piped up in your support.

———————

The crowd getting involved seemed to spur Anakin on further, your next clash resulted in him being able to swing your lightsaber from your grasp. Kriff. Suddenly you felt the tell-tale heat radiating off his weapon onto your throat, only a few millimetres separating them. The 501st were cheering in support of their General while Anakin looked over to his adoring fans, soaking up the praise. You just smirked from your defenceless position.

“You shouldn’t get so cocky, General” you stated casually, pulling him out of his moment.

“What?” Before he could react, you knocked his weapon away from your chin as your right leg hooked around the back of his and sent him sprawling onto his back. You used the force to grab his weapon as you went to kneel on his chest, his own lightsaber now readied towards his throat.

The crowd watched on in shock for a few seconds before the Wolfpack jumped out their seats and started cheering. You’d officially just defeated The Chosen One in a sparring match.

You chuckled at their reactions and Anakin’s pout before helping the General up. You returned his weapon and watched as he stalked back over to his battalion, his pride in tatters. Looking over at your own squad, Comet and Boost were winding up Jesse and Fives over how their Jedi was superior.

As you made your way back over the 104th troopers jumped on you chanting “Wolfpack! Wolfpack! Wolfpack!” some of them even started howling. You just laughed and pushed them off you.

“You’re such dorks” you chuckled, ruffling Sinker’s hair as he walked back to his seat.

“I believe you dropped this sir” Wolffe came over and extended your weapon out to you. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to retrieve your weapon from wherever it’d be thrown in a fight.

“Thank you, Commander” you said with a smile. You were both standing slightly away from the others who were still teasing the 501st, with help from Commander Thorn. Wolffe had a strange look on his face, like he was contemplating something.

“You looked good out there” he piped up, his usual bravado replaced with something more unsure. However, his walls were back up before you could tell what it was.

“You telling me I look good, Wolffe?” You teased, hoping to wind him up a little bit.

“Maybe I am” he replied with a smirk, his eyes giving you a once over boldly in front of you. You blushed at the sudden attention. Well this was new.

“You two Commanders done flirting or can we go now? There’s a free round waiting for us!” Ahsoka shouted from across the way.

You and Wolffe looked at each other for a moment longer before you chuckled and nodded your head in the direction of the exit. “We should head off”.

As you walked side by side with the clone Commander, you thought back to the way he looked at you. There was something in his eyes, admiration, maybe even want? You couldn’t tell, but you definitely wanted to find out. Maybe a few drinks would loosen him up enough to see what was going on in that handsome head of his.

Back to Masterlist

[voiceless-terror]

Outside the Lines

for @archivalpride month! the prompt was ‘sharing clothes’ so I decided to add on a bit to my More than Enough archives polycule fic. you don’t need to read it beforehand, though. 2.2k words, cw in the tags.

Jon likes Sasha’s clothes. Particularly, her cardigans.

They’re warm, oversized things in pastel colors, chunky cable knits and ancient pullovers, smelling faintly of jasmine and sandalwood. There’s always one draped over the back of her chair at work, at home. Sometimes a pile of them.

“Just in case,” she said knowingly, when Jon mentioned the teetering pile on the back of her office chair. 

“Of what, a blizzard?” he replied archly, to which she had no response.

But Jon runs cold, so it makes sense that he’d like them. And eye them. And eventually, borrow them.

“You look good in pink,” she said casually, walking by him cozily wrapped up, surrounded by books for his latest case. “You should wear it more often.” Jon just grumbled in response.

It now sits on the back of his chair.

Point is, they’re not strangers to sharing clothes. Once they move in together, the lines blur even more. Jon’s scarves become hers, her jackets become his. It’s nice when the someone’s scent begins to remind you of home. Embarrassingly, he’s come to think of it like a hug when she’s not around. Perhaps she feels the same way, but Jon’s not going to bring it up. He’s not that maudlin.

“You need to stop me from online shopping,” she groans one day, dropping a pile of clothing into his lap that must have been from the newly-arrived and altogether giant box he found on the steps of their flat. Jon had raised an eyebrow as she guiltily hauled it to her room and got to work. “I swear, I don’t remember ordering half of this.”

“Far be it from me to get between a James and her phone,” he replies, picking through the pile of utterly un-Sasha-like clothing. It’s all floaty tops and tiny skirts, nothing like what she usually gravitates toward. She certainly has more...adventurous tastes, when she’s intoxicated.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m not looking at you at all,” Jon retorts, picking up the most offensive piece from the pile with his thumb and pointer finger: a muted brown, and yet somehow sparkly miniskirt. He raises a judgmental eyebrow. “Really?”

“I was not in my right state of mind, you know that.” She ran a hand over her face, refusing to look him in the eye. “Anyway, see if there’s anything in there you like. Otherwise, it’s all going back.”

Jon very much doubts there’s much in here for him - not a chunky knit in sight. The tops aren’t too bad, but a bit too sheer for his liking, and if he’s going to layer, he’d rather be comfortable than fashionable. He pushes the pile off his lap when something catches his eye. Buried beneath two very loud shirts is something black, with bits of lace. He pulls it out to find a simple black dress, high-necked with pearl buttons and slightly puffed sleeves.  It’s modest, but covered in a delicate lace pattern. His grip tightens incrementally. “You don’t like this?”

Sasha peeks her head around the corner. “S’bit short on me. You should try it on, though. It’s cute.”

Jon flushes. It’s something he might’ve worn in uni, when he and Georgie made a night of it and Jon had just enough liquid courage. Now, though, it doesn’t fit with his professional persona and strict uniform of blazers, vests, and button ups. He needed to be taken seriously, and he didn’t feel he could do that if he was...experimenting, as his grandmother would phrase it. His hair he still wears long, the only vestige of that life he kept. “Oh,” he responds automatically, “I couldn’t.”

Sasha blinks. “I think you’d look really nice. Put your hair up, maybe add some earrings.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not.” She comes behind his perch on the sofa, gathering his hair up in her hand and pulling it from his face. “Leave a few pieces out, y’know, artfully messy.” She takes the dress and pulls it up against his body. “What do you think?”

“Um, maybe,” he barely manages to whisper. It feels nice, right. He can see it in his mind’s eye - it looks very him. Not feminine or masculine, just pretty. Just Jon. “I’ll think about it.”

He thinks about it. The dress hangs in the back of his closet, untouched and passed over many a morning. He tried it on and Sasha had been right- of course she was, she’s good at that sort of thing when not inebriated. Maybe one day he’d wear it out - not to work, but to drinks or something.

Maybe.

It’s not until months down the line that he tugs it out, on one of those days where he feels like his body doesn’t make sense and names sound wrong in his ears. Drinks with Tim, the newest recruit to their department. Hard won drinks, if Jon might add; Tim was just starting to open up to them. He tugs the dress over his head and digs through a plate on his dresser for the long silver earrings Sasha gave him last Christmas. He studiously avoids the mirror on his way out the door, throwing his bag over his shoulder and standing in the doorway, as if waiting for Sasha’s reaction. 

This was a bad idea, he thinks as his palms start to sweat. You look ridiculous, you shouldn’t have- his thoughts are interrupted by a gentle hand tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. Sasha smiles at him.

“Oh, you’re perfect.” 

Tim thinks so too.

----------

“Oh man, I’ve got to get rid of that.”

Tim motions to the blazer in Sasha’s hand. “Hasn’t fit me since uni. Y’know, when I got these guns.” Sasha rolls her eyes as he makes an exaggerated motion with his arms. They’ve been cleaning out Tim’s apartment for the past few hours, she and Tim in the bedroom while Jon sorted through his books in the living room. She suspects he’s doing more reading than sorting.

“Why’d you keep it, then?” She holds the hanger up, smoothing the fabric out with her hand. It’s heavy, quality fabric. A shame to get rid of it.

“Dunno, just one of those things,” he shrugs, throwing another pair of joggers onto the bed. “It was expensive, but I only ever wore it to interviews for internships and the like. You can toss it in the donate pile.”

She hums idly, making no motion to get rid of it. She’s rather fond of blazers, has quite a few in her collection. They’re nice when she wants to be a bit more dressy and professional. A woman’s outfit can occasionally be her armor, particularly in academia, and nothing says ‘take me seriously’ like a nicely fitted jacket and skirt. Never mind how it makes her feel. But this is very much a men’s blazer, barely a nip at the waist and with nothing to outline the curve of her body. And yet.

She shoves it in her bag. If she doesn’t like it, she’ll throw it out.

_______

When Jon and Tim are tucked in bed, she tries it on.

She doesn’t know why she’s being so secretive about this. It’s not like Jon and Tim will care, it’s just clothes. Lord knows she’s encouraged Jon to wear whatever he wants, and there’s no surefire way to get Tim blushing like wearing one of his pullovers. But there’s something that feels a bit transgressive about it. She was generally drawn to more feminine looks, growing up as a tall girl there’s an inherent (perhaps taught) idea that making herself look smaller and delicate would make her more appealing. Appealing for what? She always wanted to ask. But she knows the answer now. It’s taken near a decade to get the slouch out of her posture and to get comfortable wearing heels. 

It seems silly to feel so cowed by a blazer. She’s thirty years old, unmarried and living with two partners. She stopped playing by the rules a long time ago. Her hands shouldn’t be shaking. For Christ’s sake, just put it on.

She slips her arms into the sleeves, pausing to inhale the leftover scent of Tim, his laundry detergent and the after shave he occasionally wears. Her entire body warms, like stepping into a bath. She slips the rest of it on, pausing to adjust the shirt underneath. When she looks in the mirror, she can’t help the grin that fills her face. She looks good. Her broad shoulders fit the line of the jacket perfectly, her curves hidden and barely even suggested by the cut. It is decidedly not feminine. 

She likes it.

It takes her twenty minutes to drag herself from the bathroom and back into bed. She lies awake through Tim’s light snores and Jon’s murmuring, filled with a strange, nervous excitement. It’s just a blazer, she thinks to herself somewhat giddily. It’s just clothes. But when she throws it on that Monday morning and steps into the kitchen, she starts to think it might be more than that. She walks a little taller, feels a bit more at home in her skin. Tim choking on his orange juice when he sees her is just an added bonus.

“Glad you kept it,” he stutters out, once he manages to stop gaping.

She’s glad too.

______

Martin’s sitting on Jon’s bed, watching as he runs a brush through his hair.

Jon’s hair is lovely, long and shiny. His own he keeps rather short, though the curls are getting a bit unruly these days. When he was a child, his mother insisted he keep it long, just like she insisted on a great many other things. But he shed all of that, got as far away from it as possible. And yet, eyeing the silvery tray on Jon’s dresser, he has to admit he’s curious. 

It’s full of delicate, pretty accessories- hair clips and necklaces and earrings. Jon’s like a magpie, collecting shiny things; though this collection is mostly gifts from the three of them. It’s a little dance they like to do- Jon sees something in a store, stares a little too long, insists he doesn’t need it, and eventually it ends up in their flat. 

Their flat. He’s still getting used to it. He’s never felt at home anywhere, but he’s starting to think he has one now. Listening to Jon hum as he cooks, Tim reading aloud from his recent article deep-dive, Sasha butting in with a comment - these are all good things. The background noise to his days that used to be filled with silence. 

And he’s never been around people so at home with themselves. Martin is so used to putting an effort into how he presents himself in the world, he’s never enjoyed being misconstrued. A strange, delicate balance of pride in who he is at war with a desperate need to be understood and accepted. Palatable. Easier to put yourself in a box with clear labels than to deal with the confusion and the questions. Any passing thought or fleeting impulse that goes outside the lines is dismissed.

But nothing about his situation now is easily labeled, to be honest. It’s hard enough explaining his relationship status to others, though Sasha has a little spiel ready to rattle off at a moment’s notice. They’re all so comfortable with each other, with themselves. It makes him both a bit braver and a bit more afraid.

While Jon scurries off to flick through his closet, Martin gets up, walking over to the collection and picking up the small moth broach he’d gotten him on one of their first dates, before Tim started to come along. The memory brings a smile to his face.

“Oh, it’s lovely, Martin.” Jon had immediately pinned it to his jacket, before reaching down to grab a bag at his feet. “And ah, actually- I got something for you too?”

A little Highland cow plushie. So he had been listening to his rant on Scotland the other day. It still sits in place of pride on his desk. 

“Do you want to try one?” Martin jumps at the sound of Jon’s voice, dropping the pin unceremoniously back into the pile as if he’d been burnt. He turns around, prepared to voice a thousand excuses, a knee-jerk reaction. 

“No, it’s-”

But Jon’s already sorting through the pile with clever fingers, hand lingering over a thin barrette with a tiny, gold flower. Pretty, simple. Martin’s hand itches to reach out but he draws it into a tight fist. Admiring is one thing, but actually wearing it-

“C’mere.” He thinks he should refuse but instead he leans down, lets Jon’s fingers wind their way through his hair and feels a settled weight against his head.

“There.” Jon smiles. “That’ll do quite nicely.”

He looks in the mirror. Oh.

It’s barely even noticeable, just a small clip bringing the longest of his curls behind his ear. But Jon’s right. It looks nice. It goes with his hair and it doesn’t feel feminine or wrong, just a comfortable weight against his head reminding him he belongs, he’s loved. And that Martin’s still himself, even if he steps outside of the box every now and then. 

“You don’t have to keep it in if you-”

“No. I like it.” He straightens his spine, tilts his head. Smiles. Jon smiles back.

Yeah. He likes it.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31803076

[legends-live-in-memories]

Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century

AYO! Day 2 of MGI Trope Tussle! Team Enemies-to-Lovers for the win. I bring you another oneshot. but this time i used 3 prompts like a dumbass.

Fics Masterlist

Daminette Oneshot 4.3K words (no warnings except slight cursing)

Summary:

“Marinette is invited to the Super-Rockin' Wedding of the Century and she needs a date. Alya is both her best and worst wingman.”

Day 2 of MGI Trope Tussle, I used 3 prompts to make this thing: 1. "You don't have to like me, you just need to pretend you do." 2. "I like your costume. You look very cute." "Are you making fun of me?" 3. 'Write about a very unusual wedding proposal.' this is the culmination of all my efforts.

without further ado:

It was the biggest news on the internet. Global sensation, international rockstar, Jagged Stone, was officially engaged to childhood friend turned manager, Penny Rolling. Memes and fan theories stormed every corner of the web. Trending topics including #rockstar_wedding and #RollingStone permeated every social media platform. Guest lists were speculated, dress designers were tagged in every post that even mentioned the words ‘wedding’ or ‘bride’. It was total mayhem but none felt it worse than up-and-coming Parisian designer, M. D. Cheng, privately known as Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

The young adult was up to her neck in design templates, and was drowning in half-baked ideas and sketches. While the internet has only heard about the proposal for a solid two weeks at this point, Marinette was in the know for six months. Jagged Stone had contacted her in advance because he needed her help with the proposal itself.

And what a proposal it was.  

Jagged had outlined his idea in simple terms but it was still so mind-boggling that Marinette needed him to draw some visual aids to completely convey his idea. Initially it sounded simple enough but the more the man spoke, the more Marinette felt her brain fry at the mental picture. It first involved recreating a scene from Penny’s favourite movie. Which sounded rather romantic, if you ignored the fact that her favourite movie was Bride of Chucky. Then it involved Jagged dressed as the Tinman from Wizard of Oz. Oh, and the proposal had to happen on Halloween because that was the anniversary of their first date apparently, and based on everything else this plan entailed it might as well have been. Marinette’s role in all of this was to simply re-make the white wedding dress Chucky’s bride, Tiffany, wore because Penny already had the leather jacket to match. Of course she did. She didn’t even want to know how Jagged acquired the Tinman suit. Not her barrel of monkeys.

While many thought Jagged was the eccentric one of the pair, due to his loud personality and being an actual rockstar, the more Marinette worked for the two of them over the years, the more she learned how absolutely wrong they all were. It turned out it was Penny’s idea for Jagged to dye his hair purple, and she was the one to ask him out on Halloween all those faithful years ago. Her calm and collected demeanor was an impressive cover for the absolute weirdo she actually was. And Jagged had planned a proposal that was undoubtedly perfect for her. Regardless of how abso-fucking-lutely bizarre it was.

To each their own and let’s move on.

The set-up for the proposal started with Jagged, dressed as the Tinman, playing the part of Chucky, who begins the body-switching chant from the movie. Everything from that point on was resting on Penny’s love for the movie. Without hesitating, Penny, dressed as Tiffany, and playing her part, knew the lines by heart and immediately began reenacting the scene with Jagged. Her lines involved telling ‘Chucky’ to kiss her while she reaches for a knife that’s supposed to be in his pocket. Instead, as Jagged was still dressed as the Tinman, Penny pulled out a slip of paper. On said paper, the words ‘All the Tinman wanted was a heart’ were written in Jagged’s almost illegible chicken scratch. When Penny was distracted with the piece of paper, Jagged had gotten down on one knee and pulled out the engagement ring. The actual words of his proposal were never actually said because, upon seeing the ring, Penny flung herself into the man, clipping her chin into his metal-plated shoulder, but she wasn’t complaining.  

So that was how the proposal went.

Wedding planning started almost immediately since the newly engaged had already picked a theme. And this is where Marinette began to regret every life choice she has made since she was thirteen; starting with opening the mysterious box she found on her desk and ending with agreeing to being the main designer for the Rockin’ Wedding of the Century. One thing that wasn’t well-known but not a secret about Jagged was that he was a superhero fan. He grew up enjoying the fictional ones in his childhood comic books and he adored the real ones he witnessed in his adult life. His song that he dedicated to the teenage Ladybug was only one part of his… appreciation. His hero-worship went so far as to beieve that a hero-themed wedding was appropriate. Or he didn’t, but also didn’t care about adhering to societal propriety and went with that theme anyways. So the Rockin’ Wedding of the Century was now the Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century. And twenty-three year old Marinette was incharge of the entire wedding party’s outfits.

Perfect.

As a small mercy from some god, both the bride and groom to-be had a rather short list of people in their parties. Marinette was also able to design appropriate hero-themed outfits for all of them and scheduled them for fittings in the coming weeks. That, surprisingly, was the easy part as there were plenty of heroes to draw inspiration from. However, that wasn’t the cause of her current crisis right now.

No. Marinette was up to her neck in unnecessary designs and ideas because she’s been avoiding one particular contingency in her acceptance of the wedding invitation.

She needed a date.

She needed a date because she had promised Penny that she wasn’t overworking herself and to prove it, she would bring a date to the wedding. Rather than call any of the people who expressed interest in her at some point in time, she designated herself to wallow in her situation and distract herself with designs. In the midst of her one person pity party, her phone rang under the sea of ripped out pages. She scoured for the device and hastily answered before she could accidently send the caller to voicemail.

“Hello?” She didn’t check the caller ID and was delighted at the sound of her best friend answering her.

“Marinette! How’s it going over there?” Alya’s voice was mixed in with the busy street life of Metropolis. She had moved there immediately after high school, snatching an internship with the Daily Planet and attending the local community college. She and Marinette don’t call often due to time differences, but when they do it’s like they’ve never parted. She always looked forward to her calls.

“It’s going great, Als,” if she ignored her current dilemma, then yeah, everything was perfect. “But you wouldn’t happen to have an available bachelor willing to be my date to the ‘Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century’ in your back pocket, would you?”  

Alya’s answering laugh was both comforting and teasing and Marinette felt herself missing her even more. What she said next, however, took Marinette by surprise.

“Actually I do.”

“Pardon?”

“Well,” she took a pause to build suspense. “I know a guy who knows a guy. But it’s nothing shady, I swear.”

“That’s not comforting.” Oh god. What has she unintentionally signed herself up for?

“You know my coworker, Jon? The guy who does the photography for all my field work?” Alya had met Jon as soon as she had started her internship. Both of his parents were top journalists at the Daily Planet so he volunteered to act as tour guide for all the new interns. He and Alya, from the exasperated stories Marinette has heard from Nino, got along like a house on fire. If he was involved, Marinette was starting to doubt even further that this was going to end well for her.

“Yes, I know Jon. How is he by the way?”

“He’s fine, but I remember him telling me how he tried to set up his best friend on several dates over the years and how they all ended poorly. He’s as approachable as a brick wall; not just a prick but the whole damn cactus. Or so Jon says.” How does that sound like someone Marinette wanted to bring along with her to the wedding? “But he’s totally your type so I could ask Jon to wrap him up in bubblewrap and send him your way whenever you want.”

“How,” and Marinette said this with a lot of feeling, “is he my type exactly?”

“Green eyes with daddy issues.”

“ALYA!” Marinette was absolutely floored at her bluntness. She wasn’t even sorry about shouting into the receiver.

“Am I wrong? You have a type and he fits that type. Jon mentioned how this guy and his dad hit several roadblocks when they first met. And I’ve seen pictures of him so ‘green eyes’ checks too.”

“That is not my type of guy.” She can’t believe this was how this conversation was going.

“Adrien.”

“I didn’t even know who his father was at the time, Alya.”

“Felix.”

“His dad is dead! That doesn’t count as ‘daddy issues.’” She can feel her cheeks flaming as the call went on. Any hotter and she was going to set her sketchbooks on fire. “Besides, I dated Luka so he doesn’t fit the criteria.”

“He’s an outlier and that’s only because his eyes are blue.” Okay, fine she had a type. “And besides, you don’t even have to date the guy. You only need him to accompany you to the wedding and you both go your separate ways after. No harm, no foul.”

Right. That was true. No strings attached. She could do that.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but,” she held her breath and let it out loudly, ignoring Alya’s chuckle at her dramatics.” Give Jon my number to give this guy. And send his number to me.”

“Wahoo! Look at you, girl,” Alya was hooting and hollering over the speaker and Marinette found herself going along with the theatrics. “Okay, I will. But I gotta go, my cab is here. Bye!”

“Bye! Stay safe. Oh before you go, what’s Jon’s friend’s name anyways?”

“Uh, Damian, I think.” The call ended before Marinette could respond, but it was okay she mused. Tossing her phone onto her couch, she flopped down onto her floor and stared at her ceiling contemplatively.

What could go wrong?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Alya had described this Damian guy as ‘not just a prick but the whole damn cactus,’ she was right. Marinette had been texting back and forth with Damian for a month, and the guy was making this idea seem less and less worth it by the day. Whenever Marinette tried to learn more about the guy, he would ghost her for days on end before replying with a half-assed response at best. She knew nothing about him other than that his first name was Damian and that he was from Gotham. She had no idea how the ball of life that was Jon was even friends with someone like Damian. She asked as much to Alya in their most recent call.

“How did they even meet?” She was pacing the floor plan of her apartment, ready to tear her hair out. “Did Damian bully him in school or something?”

“Apparently their dads knew each other and introduced them,” Alya sounded half awake, stifling a yawn; probably because Marinette had called her at 1 am, Metropolis’s time. “Their brothers being friends also forced them to get along.”

“And that’s another thing!” Marinette had paused in her pacing and was now staring intently at a potted plant in the corner of her living room. Any more rage in her glare and the plant would have wilted and died. “He doesn’t tell me anything about him. I don’t need to know all his personal information, but if he’s going to be flying out to Paris on my behalf, I think I at least deserve to know his last name.”

“Hey, M,” another yawn echoed through the speaker, “I love you, truly, but maybe this could wait for holier day time hours?”

“I guess,” a vindictive part of Marinette felt like this was payback for all those inopportune calls when Marinette was busy with clients. “Sorry for interrupting your sleep.”

“It’s no big deal. But have you tried talking to him about it? If he’s ghosting your texts, try calling him. If he ignores you then too then maybe you should try finding another person to be your plus one.”

“The wedding is in two weeks, Alya!” Marinette partially regrets waiting so long to vent her frustration about the situation but she had tried to tough it out. “I would have much preferred if you were my plus one. You sure there’s no way to convince your parents to skip out on the family trip?”

“Sorry, M. Once the news about the proposal hit the internet, I tried everything. I even tried to use work, saying that I could cover the ceremony for the newspaper. My folks won’t budge though. My dad’s aunt is important to him and he wants us all at the funeral.”

“Right, right, I forgot about that.” Now she felt like an ass. “Send you dad my condolences when you see him again.”

“Will do. Good morning, Marinette. And don’t worry too much about the guy. Everything will turn up great. I can feel it.”

“Thanks, Alya. Good night, get some sleep.”

The line went dead and Marinette let out a rather weary exhale. She had no idea how this was going to work. She pulled up her contacts and searched for what she had Damian saved as.

‘Douche’ flashed on her screen and she hit the call button without remorse. She didn’t care that it was also currently 1 am in Gotham. He didn’t deserve that much consideration from her.

“What?” His voice was gravely and deep. And also really pissed if his clipped tone was anything to go by.

“Damian? Hi, this is Marinette, the girl you’re accompanying to the wedding in two weeks?” Her voice was pitched as if she was dealing with an irritating customer. Fake and polite.

“I know who you are. Why are you calling me at this unreasonable hour?” Fair, but Marinette was still aggravated at him so she wouldn’t concede.

“I’m calling because we need to talk.” She heard him scoff over the line and she felt her blood boil even hotter. She took several calming breaths to reign her temper in. “Don’t hang up.”

“Look,” She didn’t give him a chance to refuse and kept talking, getting everything off her chest. “This wedding is important to me and I promised the bride I would bring a date. After that you can delete my number and we never have to speak to each other ever. You don’t have to like me, you just need to pretend you do.”

“Whatever,” he sounded less annoyed from when he first answered the phone. “I will act as cordial as the situation requires, and nothing more. I also have my attire secured for the wedding and accommodations in Paris already prepared. I will see you at the wedding.”

“Than—” The sound of the call ending interrupted her and her frustration was back tenfold. With a cry in anguish she flung her phone onto her couch and stomped into her kitchen to channel her rage into baking.

Three loaves of bread and a dozen eclairs later, Marinette felt calm enough to finish the final touches on her outfit for the wedding.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the day of the Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century. The Rolling-Stone’s, as they were asking to be called, had kept the ceremony small. Relatively. Only two hundred invited guests, few of which were asked to bring a plus one. Marinette was over the moon at the array of outfits people were sporting. Some chose full-on cosplay while others, like herself, went for more subtle nods to the heroes. In honour of a previous Ladybug, Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons, Marinette based her outfit off of Wonder Woman’s uniform, Hippolyta’s daughter. A navy blue sequined halter top bodice that flows into a blood red A-line skirt. She paired it with a thick silver belt, silver gladiator heels rather than boots and broad silver arm cuffs. It was simple but effective. Besides, all attention should be on the bride and groom today.

A tap on her shoulder caught her attention and she turned only to come face first with red with black spots. Ladybug. Someone chose her as inspiration. How flattering. Looking up to see who was wearing the Ladybug-themed suit jacket, she stared at a pair of deep forest green eyes and a sneer to ruin that ridiculously handsome face. She recognized him from the photo Alya had sent some time ago. Damian.

“Hi, Damian,” at least one of them had to be civil and Marinette knew it was going to be her. But the idea that of all the heroes for him to choose from he chose her sent her into poorly stifled fits of giggling. Images of him going ‘Lucky Charm’ and ‘Miraculous Ladybug’ were almost too much to bear.

“I don’t know what’s so amusing about my choice of attire,” his face was starting to flush in similar shades to his jacket and that made Marinette laugh harder. “Ladybug is a well respected heroine and I thought it appropriate to pay homage while in her home city.”

“No. No no. There is nothing wrong with it. I like your costume, you look very cute.”

“Are you making fun of me?” His irritation was rather cathartic for the still giggling woman.

“No, I just didn’t think you would have put that much thought into your outfit for today. You always gave me the impression that you were ready to back out at any time.”

“I made a commitment and I had all intentions to see it through the end.”

“Could have fooled me.” And her snark was back. Now was not the time to pick a fight with the guy, he did fly all the way to Paris on her behalf after all.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” and Marinette wanted to know how he managed to sound so condescending with that statement. “How did you even get an invitation to this wedding anyways? You’re not a celebrity and you don’t look like family either.”

“Actually,” she said it with more force than what was probably necessary but his slightly accusatory tone was just so irritating. “I am the lead designer for the wedding party,” her chest was swimming with confidence at the chance to talk about her job. “I’ve worked with the bride and groom for years; M. D. Cheng, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Marinette will deny to her grave the rush of satisfaction at the absolute gobsmacked look on Damian’s face. A real fish out of water. Mouth open wide ready to catch flies. She wished she could capture this moment forever.

The moment was over too soon because Damian was regaining his composure and slipping into his default stoic expression. He cleared his throat and fixed a look at Marinette. It was rather intense.

“I believe I owe you an apology then.” He looked put-out at admitting something so menial. “I believed you were nothing more than a socialite chain climber.”

“A what?”

“When Jon reached out to me saying that a friend of one of his coworkers needed a date for an event, and when that event turned out to be the wedding of someone of such popularity, I figured you were only trying to increase your own social status by showing up with me on your arm.”

“And you said ‘yes’ anyways?” Marinette was confused but pieces of the mystery that is Damian were starting to fit in place. But something else stuck out as odd to her. “Also, how would you being my date increase my social status anyhow?”

He scoffs before answering. Bitch.

“What? It wouldn’t be the first time one of Jon’s set-ups ended that way. Besides, we’ve had an agreement that I can’t turn down an offer until meeting the person face to face.” Weird deal but some friendships are just like, Marinette supposes. “And being seen with me is enough to make anyone more popular.”

“...And you are?”

“Damian… Wayne…” He spoke as if he was talking to a small child. As if it should be obvious who he was like he was some celeb— Oh shit.

A name had flashed into her mind. On the finalised guest list, Marinette had only seen it once in passing, there was a name that belonged to someone Jagged was rather excited to see. He said the friend was an old college buddy. She remembered that much. She had completely forgotten that ‘a billionaire playboy’ was also attached to the name. Damian was the son of Bruce Wayne. Suddenly everything in the past few months made perfect sense. The cold shoulder, the ghosting, and his prickly disposition. He was overly guarded because he had justified reasons to be. Now she felt like an ass.

“Oh.” Real intelligent, Marinette.

“Oh? What, you didn’t know?” He sounded incredulous at the notion and he had every right to be. Marinette could only shake her head. Words were failing her now, her brain trying to rewrite the memories of every interaction the two ever had.

She was saved from further mortification by a call for everyone to find their seats. The wedding was about to begin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ceremony was beautiful. Penny’s dress was a silver grey, tied back with a golden belt. Instead of a long train, Marinette had attached a black cape that shimmered in the right lighting. Penny wore a tiara with two peaks to imitate the ‘bat-ears.’ A Batman-themed wedding dress was not something she ever saw herself making, but she was proud at how beautiful and confident Penny looked in it. Jagged was adorn in a royal blue suit with bold red lapels. He also had a matching red cape. His hair was styled in the familiar sleek way Superman wears it. The two made quite the pair.  

The reception was a lively affair. Jagged had dedicated several songs to his new wife and they dazzled the crowd on the dance floor. Marinette didn’t pay much attention to the speeches beyond a quick glance at Damian when his own father stepped up to the podium. He had buried his head in his hands, looking like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. A courtesy pat on the back was all Marinette gave to him.

The two hadn’t really spoken much since the revelation that they had completely misjudged each other. The awkward tension was almost palpable. As Marinette was gathering the courage to speak to him, to try and officially clear the air, she was being dragged by one of the bridesmaids onto the dancefloor. It was time for the bride to throw the bouquet. All the unmarried women were being corralled into a tight cluster and Marinette got swept up in the tide.

Marinette wasn’t focusing on the actual game, trying her hardest not to get trampled, when she saw something move in her periphery. Years of being Ladybug had left her with finely honed instincts so she could not be blamed when she immediately jumped and caught the incoming object. The bouquet. She had caught the bouquet. Oh that was just her luck. Deafening squeals of delight brought her out of her own head and she was suddenly being embraced in Penny’s arms. She returned the hug, sharing in her delight, before breaking away to sit down.

“Nice catch.” His voice had surprised her, she hadn’t expected him to speak to her for the rest of the night.

“Uh, thank you. Just lucky, I guess.” Damian didn’t get the chance to respond because he was being dragged by his own father to join all the bachelors in catching the garter. Marinette was equally uninterested in this spectacle and had let her mind wander to other things.

A loud uproar caught her attention again and her eyes zeroed in on Damian holding the tossed garter. He made his way back over to her, dropping himself into his seat gracelessly. The two sat in silence, contemplating the implications of them both catching the garter and bouquet. The games were done purely for tradition’s sake, with total disregard of what it was supposed to symbolise. Still. One’s mind couldn’t help but wander. Minutes ticked passed and Marinette was beginning to wonder if someone was going to talk about the elephant in the room.

“So,” Damian’s voice was slightly strained, like he wasn’t used to being this flustered. It was kind of endearing. Wait what?

“So.”

“While marriage seems far out of reach for right now,” Oh god. He was going to talk about it. “How does dinner sound, next Friday?”

“Wait,” he wanted to spend more time with her? After their disastrous first impressions? “Really?”

“Really. I believe we started off on the wrong foot,” he let out a soft chuckle, almost self-deprecating. “Which isn’t really new for me, but it’s not everyday I meet someone who doesn’t recognise me at first glance. I think you’re someone who I would like to get to know better. If that is something you are also interested in.”

“Yeah,” Marinette knows all about wanting to get acquainted with someone who she’s had a bad first impression of. Just look at her past relationships. Wow, she really does have a type. Damning thoughts for later. “Friday works for me. Seven pm?”

“Perfect. I’ll text you the details then.”

“Wonderful, I can’t wait.”

The rest of the evening was spent in companionable silence with small bouts of conversation in between. They shared a couple dances on the floor and parted ways at the end of the night with budding anticipation for Friday.

As Marinette was preparing for bed that night in the comfort of her apartment, she sent a text to Alya that her friend would see later in the day.

You were right, I do have a type :(

[iamdeku]

Needy: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Me? Making a fic title that isn’t based off a song somehow? Seems unlikely. 

Warnings: school stress. makin’ out. not proofread.

For @sems-diarie

You hated your classmate Bakugou Katsuki with a passion. He was arrogant, brash, and extremely loud. He was rude to you and he was rude to everybody else and he was completely convinced he was the greatest thing to ever exist. There was really only one thing you hated more than Bakugou.

Being teamed up with him for your class’s newest group project.

You had pleaded and begged with Aizawa to let you pair up with literally anyone else, but he was unyielding. All of his pairings were final, and you and Bakugou were no exception. You were just going to have to learn how to work with him, your grades be damned, apparently.

“Alright, listen up,” you said, taking your seat next to Bakugou the day after your group pairings had been announced. “You are not going to mess up my grades. If anyone is going to mess up my grades it’s going to be me. I don’t think you’re an idiot. I know you’re an idiot. So just sit down, shut up, and follow my lead.”

You were perhaps slightly harsher than necessary, even for a guy like Bakugou. In your defense though, you’d had a truly garbage day. Your coffee machine had broken, leaving you with no caffeine this morning. It was an expensive coffee machine too, and you weren’t sure when you would be able to buy a new one. You had spent half of your morning looking for the manual to the coffee machine in the hopes that Momo could just create another one for you, and by the time you realized what time it was you had no opportunity to do anything but toss your clothes on before heading to class. On your way to class, it had rained, soaking you through because you had forgotten your umbrella and provoking Mineta to make a comment on the clinginess of your wet uniform. You had gotten a worse grade than you were expecting on your last test, you had tripped and spilled all of your lunch across the floor, and now here you were, having to sit next to your assigned group partner, hair still damp and mood still very, very bad.

“Hey, I don’t know who you think you are extra, but I’m no idiot. If you think we’re not beating everybody else in this class, then you’re wrong. I don’t know what you’ve been told, but Bakugou Katsuki never loses.”

You had known the great Bakugou Katsuki for the last 3 years of yours and his UA career, and now, in your final year, you were pretty confident that you still knew him. You knew him as a guy who had definitely lost before in the past. There was no particular shame in that, but you couldn’t afford to lose this time, especially not on Katsuki’s account.

“You better be right about that, pretty boy, because this grade is important to me. If we get a bad grade on this assignment it’s going to throw off my entire average, which I really can’t afford right now. Speaking of which, we really don’t have the time for all this dilly-dallying. Let’s get to work, king explosion murder,” you mocked.

To your surprise, the ever confident Bakugou turned bright red at the old nickname.

“Whatever. Let’s just get to work. We’re going to have to trade contact information so we can figure out a time to meet up. Plus I don’t trust you not to screw this up without my advice.”

You rolled your eyes. The nerve of this boy. The sheer gall.

“Yeah, okay, whatever.” You reached into your soggy backpack and pulled out a pencil and a piece of paper, scribbling down your phone number.

“We should just be able to meet up in one of the dorm’s common areas. The trick will be finding a time when everyone else isn’t working there.”

You sighed, knowing your classmates wouldn’t make the scheduling of this easy. Even ignoring the fact that you might have to deal with their noise and obnoxious planning, Bakugou’s sleep schedule was another barrier to your project design. He went to bed early enough to severely limit your time for working on the group project. You honestly didn’t know when he found the time for homework. If you didn’t do yours immediately it probably wouldn’t get done until the very last minute.

“We can just study in our rooms. It will be quieter there.” Bakugou shrugged.

You froze at his casual words. Study in your rooms? As in study in his room? Nobody had ever been invited into Bakugou’s room. Not his best friend Kirishima. Not his childhood rival Midoriya. Not even that girl from the gen-ed course he’d dated when you were second years. Nobody.

“Uh…are you sure?”

“Yeah. Why?” He raised an eyebrow at you. “You’re making a weird face, idiot.”

You shook your head. “Nothing. I was just thinking. Yeah, we can just study in our rooms. Just text me before randomly showing up, okay?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Aizawa was starting up class, causing you both to shut up. You felt a part of you get very excited that you might be about to see Bakugou’s room. There was something sort of forbidden to the feeling, fluttering around in your chest like a stupid flock of butterflies or something. You were sure it was just the appeal of his room, the secrecy of it all. You loved knowing other people’s secrets. That must have been what it was.

As it turned out though, your hopes and dreams were all in vain. Bakugou texted you to ask about studying, not in his room, but your room. You complied of course. As much as you wanted to see the inside of his mysterious room, you respected his privacy. After all, rooms were sacred. Your room was a deeply personal expression of yourself, and you weren’t about to pry into his space. It wouldn’t get you a better grade anyway, seeing as your project wasn’t on the inside of Bakugou’s room.

You had cleaned up your room earlier in preparation for this moment, anticipating that sooner or later Bakugou would want to study in your room even if you had briefly entertained hopes that he would want to study in his. Your normally messy desk was cleared off, your bed was made and your dirty laundry was all in the basket where it belonged. If you hadn’t cleaned the room yourself you would probably think that you didn’t live here.

Bakugou walked into the room with all the posturing of royalty, shoulders thrown back confidently as he eyed your room. He sniffed, passing whatever final judgement he would, and proceeded to sit down at your desk.

“Nice room, nerd. Cleaner than I thought it would be.”

You grew uncomfortably warm at the truth of his accusation, feeling specifically called out. Could he possibly have heard you vacuuming earlier? It didn’t matter. You didn’t care about his opinion.

“Yeah, whatever. Let’s just get to work, shall we?”

You pulled out your notebook, taking a seat on the floor and gesturing for him to join you.

“Why are you sitting on the floor, idiot?”

“I don’t have two chairs for both of us to work at the desk, so therefore the floor is our next best option.”

“No it isn’t.” Bakugou rolled his eyes. “You have a bed, don’t you? We can just sit on your bed and that way you don’t have to break you tailbone on the floor. Unless you like sitting on the hard floor.”

You gritted your teeth, glaring up at the challenge.

You pushed off from your hand, standing so you could loom over where he sat at your desk. “Fine. Bed it is then.”

You took a seat on your bed as he stood up from your desk chair he had invited himself to sit in. You waited for him to take his spot next to you on the bed, but he hesitated. For a guy who had suggested this idea, he didn’t seem to like it very much. Your surprise wore off though when you realized that he was being…awkward. Bakugou Katsuki was being awkward.

Was it you? Had you done something to make him uncomfortable? Or had he just been shy this whole time?

You could have laughed at him, but instead you took pity. You remembered your first year, when you had been painfully awkward. Maybe Bakugou had always been like that and you had just never had occasion to notice until now.

“Go ahead,” you said, patting the bed next to you. “Take a seat. I don’t bite, and even if I did you would like it.”

You laughed a little bit at your own joke, even if Bakugou didn’t seem to think it was very funny. You did succeed in getting him to sit on the bed though, so some small victories were won. He was stiff and sat much farther away from you than necessary, but he sat nonetheless.

After hours of working together, you managed to have a rough outline for the project. It was sort of a tricky project, based around gathering knowledge and making a presentation on the hero you thought to be the best. Bakugou had insisted with surprising vehemence on making it on All Might, and you agreed with him. After all, he was the symbol of peace and had been the #1 hero for decades. Even though this was a move you would have predicted more from Midoriya, you figured if you were going to do this project you might as well do it right.

Bakugou got up to head to bed, but you stopped him before he could leave. “Hey…I didn’t know you were so into All Might.”

Bakugou blushed, nervously scratching the back of his head.

“I mean, we all love All Might, don’t we?”

“I mean, I know I do.” You laughed a little to set him at ease before revealing a little bit of yourself. “When I was a kid All Might was always my favorite hero because of his smile. I always thought that if someone were ever to come save me, I would want them to smile at me like that.”

Bakugou was silent for a moment, thinking about your words.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I was always so impressed by his strength, and the way people loved him. I always wanted to be loved like that. I wanted to make people believe that I could help them. That they could trust me.”

There was a deep sense of vulnerability to his words that made you want to know more and made you want to understand this boy you had clearly underestimated.

“Is that why you became a hero?”

He huffed, retreating back into himself.  “I became a hero to prove I was better than everybody.”

In a way, it was a yes.

“Have a goodnight, Bakugou.”

He stopped in your doorway, looking back at you with a hint of that vulnerability from earlier.

“Goodnight.”

You had been working nonstop for the past 4 days. You had your schedule set up to an unreasonable level of strictness. You would work for an hour, watch a 10 minute motivational video, then work for an hour again. The only real breaks you took were to eat and sleep, and it was starting to wear on you. You just had so much work to do, and you needed to be free this weekend for the sleepover Mina was having, but you were exhausted.

You had finally reached a breaking point tonight, and you found yourself sitting in your bed crying. You weren’t pretty crying either. It was an ugly, exhausted cry, yanked out of you by the hours of work and stress. You had fallen onto your side, curled up in bed as the sounds choked out of you, ugly things breaking you open and cracking your chest and your voice.

Because of all the stress you had been under, you had completely forgotten about your group project. You had met up with Bakugou the first couple of days, but yesterday you had begged off and reschedule for…today. Right now.

You didn’t even hear Bakugou’s polite knock on your door, the same three knock rap he had given the last few days before coming in to work on your project with you for an hour. If he thought you were ignoring him or just not there, it didn’t stop him from coming in. You didn’t notice, completely oblivious to his presence until he spoke.

“Are you hurt?”

He rushed over to your side, rolling over your body to inspect you. His hands were surprisingly gentle as they skimmed over your body, checking for injuries, gently pressing into the divots of old scars. He found no hurt on you though, and pulled back, frowning.

“What’s the matter? Why are you crying?”

You sniffled loudly, shamefully wiping your arm across your face.

“I’m fine,” you reassured him, repeating it for your own benefit. “I’m fine, I’m totally fine. Everything is fine.”

“You sound like stupid Deku. Every time he’s ever told me he was fine he was lying.”

You choked out a giggle against your will. “Yeah, he does that doesn’t he?”

“Yeah, he does. But unlike Deku you’re not stupid. You want to explain this little episode to me?”

“I’m just…stressed.” You sighed, explaining your situation to him.

He sat back, stunned. “Well no wonder you finally broke. Nobody can work like that. You have to have fun, you idiot!”

For such a nice sentiment, he said it awfully aggressively. He almost made you burst into tears again, but he seemed to realize his mistake, quickly softening his voice again as he floundered for something to say.

“I…you…I’ve never seen you cry before,” he said.

“Yeah, well, I do it. This may come as a surprise but I’m human too, y’know.”

His hands still rested on your thighs, and you looked up at him hesitantly, breath catching in your throat. You had, of course, noticed that he was pretty before. Sharp cheek bones, harsh blond hair, bright red eyes that dug into your soul. Somehow though, he had gotten prettier over the past couple of days as you had gotten to know him, gotten to understand him better.

Before, you had thought he was arrogant. From your conversations though, you knew better. He just cared about people too much. Cared about their opinions too much, feared rejection. You offered up a little piece of yourself in exchange for everything he had admitted to you.

“Remember what I told you about All Might being my favorite hero? I thought to be a good hero you had to always be smiling. You could never show weakness. Not anger or sadness or anything else. That’s why you’ve never seen me cry before. Why I’m always so happy go lucky. Because I have to be.”

There was a pause while Bakugou processed that information.

“That’s…stupid,” he decided. “You shouldn’t hold back on your emotions like that. You deserve to feel things. You can’t dedicate your life to other people like that.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m starting to figure that out.” You stared down at your bedspread.

You were shocked when you felt a warm, calloused hand brush your cheek. Bakugou hesitantly, tenderly wiped the last of your tears away, and you felt something in your heart flutter. You had known Bakugou Katsuki a long time, but you had never known him like this. Looking up into his eyes did nothing to dispel your butterflies when you saw how soft his gaze was. Something in you ached to be looked at like that, to be held in someone’s hands as carefully as he was holding you now.

“Can I…can I kiss you?”

You weren’t sure where the question had come from, and yet you were, because some time along the way of getting to know him you had realized something. Everything you had thought there was to hate about Bakugou was really something to love. Over the course of this project, you had done something extraordinarily stupid. You had developed feelings for a boy who would never like you back. Which was why his next words stole your breath entirely.

“Please,” Bakugou said, his words a sticky sweet, fervent plea.

You blinked, daring to look at him again only to find him wide open to you. He was leaning forward, a look in his eyes you could scarcely describe, a feverish desire overcoming him. His hand on your face twitched ever so slightly in anticipation as you leaned forward.

When your lips met his, you were surprised by the easiness of it. You fell forward into him, arms draped around his broad shoulders as he pulled you in, large hand wrapping around your waist, firm and capable. He tasted like burnt sugar, impossibly so, and it made your head spin, made you dizzy with the sensation. It made you hungry for him.

When he licked your lower lip, you let him swallow you down, hands blazing a fiery trail across your waist to your back, making the trip over and over and burning into you with their warmth. You tugged on his hair lightly, eliciting a moan from him that shot straight through your chest. You gasped into his open mouth, your clumsy kiss flipping when he slipped his tongue into your mouth. Everything became easier when you let him take over, let him pull you into his lap up against the hardness of his body and tilt your head to the side just so, pliable and soft in his arms. Kissing him became easy and natural, shivers running through your body as you surrendered yourself to the experience.

When he finally pulled away, you found yourself licking a mixture of your spit and his off your mouth, not even minding how profoundly gross that was. Normally you would have shuddered, but you were far too busy staring at him, mesmerized and breathless.

“You, uh…that was…that was really nice. And I think you’re pretty.” Bakugou coughed. “Do you want to go out sometime? Because obviously you need somebody to distract you from your homework, stupid. Look what you did. Made a mess of yourself.”

You ducked your head into his shoulder at his words, hiding your face and your embarrassment. “Yeah, sure. That sounds nice.”

He hummed, the sound resonating in his chest and traveling straight to your ear. “Can I…kiss you again then?”

“I thought you would never ask.”