Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“What did you think, kid? That I was going to tell everybody the truth? That I stole Kitty Section’s song and your girlfriend’s costumes, so I could give them to my talentless son, huh?”

Xavier always knew that his Dad didn’t have a very high opinion of him outside of the money that his ‘pretty face’ can make for him when plastered across almost every billboard in Paris but in his opinion; the rest of Paris didn’t really need to know it as well.

Even as Ladybug revealed the secret of the actively recording cameras to him and he backtracked more than Xavier does when he hints at coming out to the public, no apologies to his only son slipped out amongst the empty promises of record deals to that Cat band (were they furries or something, what was with those masks anyway?) and explanations of misunderstandings.

Even as the band had all huddled together to talk about something while Ladybug and Chat Noir slipped away, Dad didn’t come near him. Didn’t apologise, didn’t try to talk himself out of it.

It wouldn’t be the first nor the last time that Dad said something like that about him in the public. Xavier couldn’t count how many interviews Dad had done where he’d mentioned how he had his ‘mother’s mind’ when it came to business-or in other words: he was a bimbo.

At this point, he preferred being a bimbo to being like his father. At least he was still hot!

Before he could be called back to finish his interview about ‘his’ new song with Alec, he fumbled with the handle on the door that led to the hallway and headed for his dressing room. He stopped just a couple metres short of it when he heard footsteps following behind him.

It wasn’t the squawk of his Dad’s shiny slacks that had always (for some reason) grated on his ears, that was something good at least.

He looked back over his shoulder and spotted the blue haired guy (Luke wasn’t it?) standing just a few metres away. He groaned and spun on his heel to face the other teenager (who, now that he could actually focus on him, actually wasn’t that bad looking).

“Look Lukas-”

“Luka.”“Luke, whatever!” He whipped his head back to get the little coils of golden yellow hair out of his face. He’d need to get into his dressing room soon or else Blue was gonna be the third person on planet earth to find out that Xavier Yves has some of the curliest hair to exist on a blonde person.

“I gotta refresh in my den yo-so could you like make like Ladybird and buzz off?”

Lucy shakes his head and sighs like the ‘extraordinary’ Xy is the one being a problem in this conversation! Xavier tries to huff through his nose but it comes out as a snort, something Lucky seems to find funny because he laughs and oh my god if Xavier hadn’t known that he was gay before then the image of this guy (who’d been looking constipated all day) looking so soft and free as he laughs would definitely be his gay awakening (unfortunately for Lulu, Duncan from Total Drama Island got there first).

“Something funny to you bro?” Xavier scoffs.

Lumber just shakes his head. “There were so many things wrong with that sentence!”

As if the rulers of the universe want to make sure that Xavier has negative chances of ever getting with truly impeccable timing) the entire front part of his quiff collapses into crusty little curls on top of his face. He chokes on the smell from the (four bottles) of hair gel they’d used to turn his hair into what was supposed to be an indestructible golden helmet as Luna laughs really loudly from where he’s standing just a bit away.

For some reason though, the laughing just keeps getting louder and right as Xavier is about to turn away and storm into his dressing room (and not have a hissy fit about embarrassing himself in front of one of the hottest guys he’s ever seen) a hand lifts his hair away from his eyes and suddenly they’re face to face, their noses almost touching as Lukewarm’s warm blue eyes meet Xavier’s panicked ones.

If Lurch has realised how close they are yet, he isn’t acknowledging it. Instead his other hand finds it’s way to the back of Xavier’s head and, judging by the frantic (and painful) tugging and the way his calm expression slowly morphs into one of panic; get’s stuck there.

They stay standing like that for a moment. Xavier with the hottest guy he’s ever seen, the real life manifestation of all of his childhood cartoon crushes, standing nose to nose with him as he desperately tries to pull his hand out of the gelled mess that is Xavier’s hair and Lunchly, still pulling and tugging at his hand while Xavier tries not to wince ever time the extensions pull on his scalp.

He can’t be a wimp on top of being a. straight haired fraud!

After another minute of pulling, Lube finally gives up. “Do you maybe wanna try to do this in the dressing room?” He suggests almost shyly as he tucks a strand of his own teal hair behind a pierced ear with his free hand.

“Uh yea dawg sounds uh um-diggity!?”

Lucifer snorts as they walk towards Xavier’s dressing room, hand still jammed in his hair. “Sounds like doubt?”

Xavier feels his face heat up and the door closes behind the both of them. “Words can have multiple meanings!”

He huffs when Lunk starts using a spray bottle he found on the dressing table to soak his hair.

”I’m gonna have to style that again later you know!” Lubber seems to take his protest as a sign to try and yank his hand free again.

“Ow what the hell man!?”

Luggage frowns at the patch of Xavier’s head where his hand is stuck, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Are these…extensions?”

Xavier’s face turns even redder (if that was possible) and he stares down at his (300 dollar shoes) instead of the other boys inevitably amused face.

If he breathed a word of the fact that the amazing XY wore extensions then Dad was surely going to sue him into the ground. He might even have to move into one of those boats in the Seine across from the hotel, there’s always music blasting from there anyway so he might not be too upset (although living in a boat does actually sound pretty dope now that he thinks about it).

It’s not until an extension flutters down past one of his feet that he realises that the goth is ripping them out.

“Wha-hey not cool dawg!!!”

Lullaby raises an eyebrow at him in the mirror, both hands free but still removing the extensions with a carefulness that could only be the cause of Xavier not knowing they were being removed in the first place.

“Honestly XY I think you might look better when your hair doesn’t look like a five year old painted it onto your head!”

He continues unclipping the extensions and spraying Xavier’s hair in tandem. He can see his hair curling up in the mirror, a springy mess of blonde that slowly but surely moves forward as Lucy quickly makes his way through his head. His painted fingers are like magic, working at a faster pace than any of the stylists Xavier’s ever had (not that many of them have to take out the extensions, he usually has that done the second he’s off set, if not him then Dad).

It’s strangely comforting in a way, to have someone who knows what they’re doing and isn’t twisting and pulling and snatching the way Dad does when he get’s too whiney about how much they’re pulling (because none of the stylists Dad hires are paid enough to know how to put them in properly so they’re always tugging on his hair).

Xavier can barely see past his own hair when he hears the door handle rattling and the familiar pounding of angry fists on the door.

“Xavier Yves how dare you run off before the interview wrapped up!” Dad shrieks from the other end.

He desperately tries to remember what the goth guys name is so that he can beg him not to open the door.

L…L…a?

No it’s L…Lu!

Lu that’s it! There’s a C or a K in there somewhere as well. C’mon Xavier think!!! Dad says that his Adhd is just him choosing to be stupid and right now more than ever he wishes Dad was right.

“Follow me!” The blue haired guy whispers into his ear before he climbs up the stack of boxes at the other end of the small dressing room and unlatches the window that’s barely bigger than a large dog.

But Xavier’s not about to question the guy who just saved from from the terrible hair extensions without causing any pain (maybe this guy was the real hero of Paris) so he slipped through the window after him (and he did not knock down the boxes they just…fell) just as Dad had kicked in the door.

Xavier could hear him roaring as Luka grabbed his hand and they took off running down the hall, laughing like actual teenagers. Sneaking out like actual teenagers.

And if Alec was at the other end of the hall, watching the kid who’d grown up around adults who’d only wanted ever wanted to exploit him finally acting like a real child then that was between him and Nadja during their weekly gossip over coffee this Saturday.

Chapter Text

Xavier glared down at the soiled tissue in his hand as if it was at fault for his fever when he knew damn well it was probably because Dad was actually making him make his own music now and he’d spent way too many all nighters learning how to mix beats and use the various doo-hickeys on the synth.

He couldn’t say that he didn’t enjoy the process though, the song he’d come up with at the end of it all felt like the first thing he’d ever put out there that genuinely felt like him, which made sense considering it was the first thing he’d ever made fully on his own and yea it might sound a little cheesy at some parts but maybe that was just his style.

The Live Show on Tv 5 this morning was his chance to prove that he could make his own music, that Jagged, Dad and the (admittedly very hot) guitarist from that Kitty Section band wrong!

He’d fight through any sickness just to spite Jagged Stone!

So when they finally reached the Tvi tower, he’d wiped his nose one last time, tried his best to look cool and non chalant about the whole thing when he felt like he was melting from the inside out and stepped out of the car.

Thankfully there was security to hold back the paparazzi and Dad said it fit better with his image if he remained ignorant to their presence (although Xavier was beginning to think that this was actually because Dad didn’t trust him enough to answer any questions without being micro managed), so he strolled on in through the big double doors without a word.

The elevator already had one person in it, an elderly cleaner who was muttering to herself the entire way up to the studio. When the doors finally opened Xavier felt his nose tickle and before he even knew what was happening he ended up sneezing,loudly.

He rubbed a finger under his nose, already regretting leaving the tissues in the car when he noticed that the cleaner had finally fallen quiet. He looked over to her, saw her shocked expression practically frozen onto her face and assumed that she’d finally realised who she was standing next to. With a shrug and a flash of his XY hand sign, he left the elevator.

The first red flag was the fact that there was nobody in the audience. If it was a live show, especially one with a celebrity of his calibre, then shouldn’t there be crowds fighting each other for the chance to get in and watch his first live show.

At the very least he expected a couple of producers or cameramen’s kids to be here. His fanbase was mostly young children anyway.

The second red flag was the guilty look on Alec’s face when he walked in. He wouldn’t meet his eyes at all and Dad was barking orders like he usually did for pre-recorded shows which meant…

“It’s not actually a live show, is it?”

Alec glanced up at him, briefly, and sighed. “I tried kiddo-I really did.”

Xavier could only shrug as his brain pounded against his skull. The synth was all set up, every knob he now knew by name, every switch and slider he knew how to manipulate to create the best beat.

He crumpled his music sheet in his fist. He was never going to get that live show. He was never going to be free.

He stifled a sniffle and shuffled over to the synth. He went to get it set up when a hand stopped him. He recognised the shiny black polish on the nails from hours of music video marathons before he even got the chance to look up to see their owner, the same fingers that strummed that trashy,Jagged Stone smothered, electric guitar with enviable precision in every one.

It was Luka, he knew his name by heart now. It was something he’d thought about often when he was writing his own music (but that didn’t really matter now, did it?)

“The synth is already set up for you to play pretend with it.” He said coldly.

Xavier shivered (not because Luka was like-really,really hot when angry, it’s just cause he’s sick alright?) and wrapped his arms around himself.

Luka’s gaze softened (don’t pity him, he hates pity). “You alright?”

Xavier nodded, pressing his lips into a thin line. Truthfully, he’d rather be anywhere else but here right now. But Luka couldn’t know that he was sick-that would make him look totally not cool and then how is he supposed to enact ‘Operation seduce the hot lead guitarist who hates me’.

He’d have to add so much more steps!

“I’m good dawg, the amazing XY don’t get sick ya’know?”

Luka raised an eyebrow. “So you’re sick?”

Xavier felt his face heat up but before he could say anything a loud crash rang out from the where the elevators where and within seconds Luka was tackling him to the ground, just outside of the cameras view right as a giant suds monster seeped in through the thin crack between the elevator doors.

“What the hell man-I know you don’t like me but damn!” Xavier complained as he brushed the dirt from his jacket. Luka glared at him (and yea this dude is definitely really hot when he’s annoyed) before he sighed and grabbed Xavier’s hand, dragging him away from the sound of Chat Noir and Ladybug’s banter (since when did they get here) and towards a red door with a flashing ‘emergency exit’ sign.

Maybe it was a combination of being dragged to quickly without much time to prepare, his being sick and the disappointment of not getting his first live show but next thing he knew Xavier had blacked out.

When he opened his eyes again, he was in a bed but, not his bed. Definitely not his bed (if you could even call it his considering it belonged to the hotel). It smelled like water and instant ramen and-

“Oh you’re awake, you really scared me there when you passed out!”

Was he dreaming? Had god finally decided to take pity on him and give him something good for once?

“Is this…am I…am I in your room right now!???”

Luka only nods as he sets the tray that he’s holding down on the bed beside him. Xavier turns his head, he doesn’t want the other boys pity.

“Y’know if you’re sick then you really shouldn’t be going out in public, you could get other people sick too!”

Xavier huffs out a sigh and waves him off. “Yea, yea I get it-what’s this anyway?”

He gestures to the tray, laden with a bowl of delicious smelling soup and a glass of cold water. Is this guy trying to poison him?
Hypothetically, he could get away with it, especially considering the fact that he can just throw his body out the window into the Seine to get rid of evidence.

“It’s the perfect crime!”

Luka turns to look at him from where he’s now sitting with his guitar in his lap. “Hmm?”“Uh nothin-ACHOOO!!!”

Xavier sniffles miserably as Luka laughs. What a meanie! He’d rather die from poisoning than have to endue another moment of Luka’s meanness anyway so he takes a sip of the soup, and it’s good but he’s not telling Luka that.

He probably knows already anyway, judging by the fact that he doesn’t even watch him for his reaction.

Oh well, there were worse ways to die than by delicious tasting soup!

Chapter Text

Luna considered herself to be a fairly chill person. She was the person her friends went to when they needed someone to talk to, she was the first person her younger brother Juelian told when he came out and she was always the person who took care of their father when he got too sad or too drunk when they were younger (thankfully Dad didn’t drink as much now and made up for every minute of their childhood he’d spent drunk with unconditional love and affection).

But for some reason her chillness had it’s limits, especially around Xaeley Yves Roth. The name Xaeley just sounded obnoxious-like something a rich (usually white) influencer would name their kids to seem more exotic.

She had everything that made Luna tick: Valley girl accent, reeked of overpowering perfume twenty four seven, acted like a brat. There was the addition of her being Luna’s favourite singers rival (Jagged Stone was the Queen of not just Rock but all music in general in Luna’s opinion) that made it all the easier for the thought of her to get under Luna’s skin.

Now the blonde girl sat in the lounge chair across from her fidgeting with her glasses while her grey-blue eyes darted around the Liberty had the same Valley girl accent but she was a lot quieter, she smelled of the croissant she seemed to have forgotten was in her hand and she looked ready to jump in the Seine if anyone snuck up on her.

Yet this was supposed to be Xaeley Yves, the same girl who made every part of Luna twitch. The same girl whose very existence strapped Luna’s title as: the chill one, onto a ticking time bomb ready to explode when the wrong wire was cut.

Yea, Luna wasn’t buying it.

“Look I’d really love to hang out with you some more but I’m being forced to work with Xaeley on a song and if I don’t get there in like ten minutes then Roth is gonna blacken my name to the whole industry and-”“Do I really look that different to you?” The blonde girl lifts her head and narrows her eyes at Luna. They’re steely, sharp-nothing like the blinding blue of Xaeley’s that ruins Luna’s record thrifting every team she sees them.

But the way that she pouts,the really annoying duck lipped pout; that’s definitely Xaeley.

Luna sighs as she feels a migraine beginning to form. “Okay then, why were you here so early?”

Xaeley’s head dips again, she seems to have more interest in her sneakers than in looking at Luna. She’s nothing like the blonde pop princess whose voice blasts from every car radio in France.

Now she’s more like how Ivy was when they first met. Shy, a bit stand-offish, but still wanting to be helpful somehow.

Luna runs a hand through her hair before she stands up and reaches out a hand for the other girl to take. When Xaeley sends her a wary glare she only shrugs.

“Wanna get started?”

Chapter Text

Bobby grinned devilishly as the tall man across from him furiously adjusted his tie for the umpteenth time during their dinner.

The Saja Boys manager was supposed to be easy pickings, a simple snack-a warning, before his girls took down the hunters for good. That was what Celine had snapped anyway before she sent him to the mortal realm.

Easy pickings was a gross underestimation of Gwi-Ma’s ability to feign ignorance towards attractive men (well demons in Bobby’s case, but the cutie across from him didn’t know that).

Gwi-Ma didn’t look lovestruck, his steely gaze never once fell to Bobby’s lips. He glared into his eyes, a challenge. An expectation to be met. He wasn’t going to just give it to Bobby, the demon had to dial it up a bit.

“So, how’d you get into this whole ‘idol’ business in the first place?” He simpered. Gwi-Ma raised a dark eyebrow and took a sip of his wine.

“I was under the impression that we were discussing the future of our respective groups, not our own past.”

Bobby’s grin couldn’t have grown any wider if he was the big Derpy tiger himself.

“I find it easier to work with people when I know a bit more about them, I’m sure you understand?”

The waiter arrived with their orders, a plate of Japchae for Bobby and a bowl of Kal-guksu for Gwi-Ma.

“That won’t fill you y’know dalling?”

Gwi-Ma glared up at him, to a mortal, maybe his glare would be threatening, maybe they’d be afraid and back down from any sort of conversation for the rest of the dinner. But Bobby was a demon and not only that, he was an advisor to the overlord of hell, Celine.

He could handle a pissy mortal for another hour.

“I don’t recall making my diet a concern of yours Mr. Agma.”

Bobby scooped up some of his noodles with his chopsticks, how long had it been since he’d last had noodles? A century, maybe even two. Depended on what counted as a ‘proper noodle’ he supposed.

Gwi-Ma was watching him have his little noodle debate with a harsh gaze unsuited to the context of why they had met up in the first place.

Well, why he. thought they’d met up. Bobby should probably get back to that shouldn’t he?

“My girls have been begging me to let them collab with your boys on a song, Rumi especially seems to have an affinity for Jinu!” He giggled,faking his joy for the first time during this (very much one sided) conversation because that statement was more true than he’d like it to be. Rumi was distracted on missions now, she’d made so many missteps during practice the other day and it took all Bobby had in him to stop Celine from disintegrating her on the spot.

Gwi-Ma sighed. Bullseye, something they could agree on.

“Jinu seems to be the same way, it’s why I think it would be better if they stayed as far away from each other as possible. He’s not built for public controversy, he’s too…sensitive.”

Bobby nodded, despite the fact that it was entirely going against his mission. He could do a side quest though and making Gwi-Ma actually smile for once sounded like a pretty damn rewarding one.

“I get it, Mira’s the same.” She was,kind of. Celine had a very easy time taking advantage of her when she felt abandoned by the other two and Zoey’s people pleasing nature lead to a lot of breakdowns when missions went awry.

Rumi…well he didn’t like Rumi all that much,she was too work focused and snitched on him when he got a little too busy with a handsome mortal. But she was easily the most attached to Celine therefore the most affected by the trio’s failures when they happen.

Gwi-Ma’s face softened and Bobby found that a relaxed Gwi-Ma was one of his new favourite things in existence. Fuck stealing this guys soul, he was way too cute for that.

The corner of the other man’s mouth twitched upward, but then quickly flattened into a thin line again.

Bobby frowned. There had to be some way to…

“Sometimes I think I treat the girls like my own you know? I always wanted a daughter but I just never found the right guy to settle down with.” Bobby shrugged and took a sip of his water, but he watched Gwi-Ma like a hawk through the small slits in his “closed” eyes.

Gwi-Ma seemed to perk up. So he did care for the Saja Boys, and from the very fact that Bobby was sitting having dinner with the Hunters manager then the feeling was mutual.

“…guy?”

Bobby almost spat out his water, oh this would be far better than he thought it would. Stealing the hunters unofficial father’s soul would be one thing, stealing his heart was another entirely.

There was a pang somewhere inside him, a painful thing he attributed to the entirely random and unique fits the human body would find itself in.

Afterall, a demon had no feelings. No positive ones anyway.

Chapter Text

Saiki didn’t mind working at Café Mami to be honest. It was a small business that rarely had any annoying customers that he’d have to listen to and when they did come he was on coffee duty so he very rarely had to actually interact with them.

Of course there was an exception to this calm. He’d deliberately not told his ‘friends’ that he was working there so that they wouldn’t come to visit him and be bothers. He’d told Mira that he was saving up for a birthday present for Kaidou to keep her from spilling too which meant he’d covered all his bases.

He should have his peace at the end of the day, right? No way any of those nuisances could come to bother him while he was at work, right?

Wrong, because Kusuo couldn’t have nice things and when he did they never lasted very long.

This nice thing in question ended the second the nasally whine of the newest transfer student at his school entered his mind.

‘This café looks like it was designed for plebians, but I suppose since it seems so empty there’s less of a chance of Dad’s bodyguards finding me in here….hmm’

‘God just couldn’t let me have this one, could he?’ Saiki sighed to himself as he heard the ring of the door bell and the squeak of overpriced slacks against the freshly cleaned (but somehow always slightly grimy) floor of the café.

Saiki tried to keep his head down so that he wouldn’t be noticed by the entitled heir but it seemed that like every other day, luck just wasn’t on his side.

‘Is that the four-eyed pleb, what is he-wait-does he work here? I thought he was a model or something with his looks, must be because he’s shy. A pity, such an appearance is wasted on people without the confidence to take advantage of it…unlike Teruhashi’

Saiki couldn’t be imagining the internal disgust at the thought of Teruhashi…could he?

Was Saiko not trying to marry her or something…oh god.

Saiko’s face crumpled in disgust when he glanced at the booths so instead he simply walked towards Saiki at the counter and Saiki swore not to help Mira the next time she dropped something when he heard her sigh of relief (he would, he knew that he would because out of all of the nuisances Mira was the only one who actually had a semblance of an idea of how much work he put into maintaining a normal life with how hard she had to work to make enough money to pay for books and stationary for school).

‘I swear if Father didn’t hate the homos so much I would be pursuing the four-eyed pleb instead of Teruhashi. Not that I am a homo I just find that he’s slighlty more appealing than the girls at the pleb school but that’s because none of those girls are good enough to be with me. That’s it , they’re the problem not me…’

Saiki cut his thoughts off right there because he already had to listen to Kaidou being in denial about liking Kuboyasou and there was only so much internalised homophobia his brain could take before it became to much (really that limit should have been drawn with Kaidou but he’d already accepted his fate of having to listen to Kaidou around the same time that he’d accepted the fact that the universe truly hated him).

“Ahem!”

Saiki groaned before he lifted his head up to look at Saiko.

The other boy was out of uniform for once, both of his uniforms because Saiki had never seen him in anything other than their school uniform or a shirt and pants combo that would be more in place on a middle aged man who would rather play golf on his days off than spend time with his children rather than a teenage boy.

No, Saiko was wearing what he both internally and externally called ‘pheasant clothes’.

A cream shirt, a blue sweater vest (and was it…cropped?) and a pair of skinny jeans that were specifically designed to only suit Idols and yet somehow Saiko pulled them off, in ways that Saiki didn’t want to address because that would mean thinking about why he was paying so much attention to the fit of Saiko’s jeans and he didn’t feel like debating his own sexuality again anytime soon (especially after the relief he’d gotten from realising that he wasn’t sexually attracted to anyone, he’d feared for the day when lust took over and he hurt someone by losing control of his powers).

Saiko watched his internal debate with frustrated impatience, he cleared his throat again.

“What can I do for you?” Saiki drawled, having already provided much more thought to their conversation that he usually would.

“I want an americano, no sweeteners, no cream-what!? What is this!?”

The fact that the other boy had the gall to be offended when Saiki slammed a hot chocolate down onto the counter in front of him (because Saiko, like Saiki, loved sweet things and unlike Saiki, was very embarrassed about it hence why he’d only ever ordered spicy or bitter things when out with the others but when you could read people’s minds there was very little that could surprise you and Saiki was just about finished with the whole charade).

“I like hot chocolate, you seem like you need something sweet. So hot chocolate.”

Saiko’s face lit up in a brilliant flush that did indeed cause Saiki to have the second sexual revolution of his sixteen years of living: he thought that Metori Saiko was very pretty.

“Well I’m not paying you for it because I didn’t ask for this!” Saiko huffed. He blushed all the way through to the very tips of his ears, how could someone be so betrayed by their own body that everything they did came off as cute even when they were trying to be anything but?

It was like Kaidou except Saiki…liked it?!“That’s fine, but um-I get off work soon.”

The awkwardness that followed the sudden statement was largely made up for by the brilliant flush that once again took over Saiko’s face.

“And you-you um-”

“Would like to meet up and go out for lunch? Yes, yes I would.”

He could hear Saiko’s stutters through his thoughts and, adorable as they were, Saiki could hear the heir’s bodyguards coming down the street and he very much would like to get going to their lunch together.

“Would you like to wait for me in the break room?”

Saiko blinked at him, and then looked down at the hot chocolate before he quietly nodded and headed around the counter and into the back of the shop.

For once, he was too stunned to say anything.

Aren wouldn’t be happy to hear that he missed it.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t that Gwi-Ma particularly liked the soft, taxidermied animals that he often saw clutched tightly in the grubby hands of smaller mortals. It was more that he was curious of their appeal and figured that in order to conduct a proper investigation into why exactly tiny mortals loved the ‘toys’ that Bobby had told him were called ‘Plushies’ when he had asked, then he needed multiple samples to get his information from.

This was around three months ago and while Gwi-Ma has yet to conduct his investigation, he has grown his collection of samples from three to thirteen.

This wasn’t an issue, he lived alone in his mortal apartment and if any of the Saja Boys were ever to have the audacity to intrude on his abode then they’d be in too much pain from a memory induced migraine to give him too much bother (he says that, but last time he used his former favourite torture method on Mystery for barking in front of fans he’d felt awful and had later secretly gifted the younger demon a new throw blanket).

The bliss that was ignorantly sleeping (or well, lying amongst his ‘plushies’ for several hours in a bed that dipped beneath him like water while he waited for the world to start again) amongst his ‘samples’ was ruined (as all good things eventually were) by an offhanded comment from Bobby.

——————————

“Oh my god…” Bobby groaned, running a hand down his face as he stared down at his phone.

Gwi-Ma, slightly bristled by the mention of his father and curious of what had dampened the small man’s usually sunny mood , glanced down at him from where he had been asking the boys what they wanted to eat for dinner (it was take-out, again, but at least this time it was take-out from an actual restaurant instead of some fast food place).

“What is it?”

Bobby all but shoved his phone into Gwi-Ma’s face and it took the demon lords eyes just a moment to adjust so that he could actually see what was in front of him.

“It’s…a plushie…in a jar?” He tried.

“I know! Disgusting isn’t it-how do grown adults post these kinds of things with no shame!?” The shorter man pulled his phone back, still grumbling about immaturity and pervs. It was a good thing he was so upset, otherwise he would have noticed Gwi-Ma’s stunned expresion.

He was…a pervert? Bobby thought that he was a pervert!?
He was a demon overlord, he’d been called many things in his many millennia of living. Pervert was one of those many things and yet hearing the word out of Bobby’s mouth…that stung.

What stung even more was the realisation that he actually cared about what this insignificant mortal thought about him.

—————————————-

That leads to now, a point in time where Gwi-Ma is beginning to realise that he has far more than the thirteen ‘plushies’ he’d originally accounted for.

He’d sorted them into piles based on three factors: cuteness (he’d burn these because they were geared specifically towards younger children and that was the perviest thing he could find about him owning all of the ‘plushies’), fluffiness (these would be turned into pillows) and size (there was a giant horse with a cone on it’s head that Gwi-Ma was currently using as an arm chair simply due to how massive it was).

He’d ben deliberating over which ones he should throw out first when there was a knock on his apartment door and before he could do anything (like tell them to fuck off because he was busy) the door opened to reveal; Bobby, with a cardboard carton of coffees in one hand and a small paper bag that smelled absolutely divine in the other.

“Uhm…are these yours?”“No! No they um-they were sent by fans!”

Bobby nodded, stepping over some of the stray plushies before he plopped down next to Gwi-Ma.

“Well if you’re getting rid of any of them, I wouldn’t mind taking a few off your hands. I’d love to add to my collection!”

Gwi-Ma gaped at him.

“What?”“But you-you said that adult men who had plushies were perverts!”“I never said that!” Bobby argued.

“Yes-yes you did! You showed me that picture of the blue horse in the jar and said that the guy who owned it was a pervert!”

Bobby stared at him for a few moments and while Bobby spent a lot of time (that he thought Gwi-Ma wasn’t aware of) staring at him this time it felt like he wasn’t appreciating the jawline of his mortal forms face.

No, he thought he was stupid.

“Gwi-Ma.” He started slowly, edging closer towards the demon lord who couldn’t look at him solely out of shame.

“Are you planning on being-ahem-intimate with these plushies?”

Oh…oh…

“That wasn’t some kind of preservative in the jar…was it?”Bobby shook his head sagely. “No, no it was not.”

He picked up a black, pudgy looking dog plushie and then after a second of staring at it, picked up a neon pink grumpy cat plushie as well.

“Look Gwi-Ma! It’s us!”

Gwi-Ma glared at the cat plushie that was sitting in Bobby’s lap. “I don’t look like that!” He insisted.

“Oh you don’t do you?”“No.”Before he knew what was happening, Gwi-Ma heard the flash of the camera on Bobby’s phone. The smaller man fiddled with whatever picture he had taken for a minute before turning it around to face Gwi-Ma.

He’d drawn cat ears and whispers on him.

If Gwi-Ma didn’t kill this man soon then he was going to kiss him, and that would cause far more problems that he cared to address.

Chapter Text

Luka wasn’t an angry guy-he’d actually dare to say he’s one of the most chill people he knows.

There are very few things that genuinely piss him off.

Stealing was one of them. Bob Roth and everything he stood for was another. When Marinette had suggested submitting one of their music videos for the competition he’d been hesitant until he’d been struck by five pairs of puppy dog eyes and the promise of croissants fresh out of the oven even if they didn’t win.

How could anyone argue against that? Luka was only human after all.

Someone who Luka wasn’t so sure on being human was Bob Roth himself, a doubt that only became more pronounced when he saw Xy on Tv5 braggin about ‘his’ new song and how he came up with ‘his’ new outfit, the latter of which was nothing but a cheap knockoff of Marinette’s hard work and skills.

So they’d stormed over, Jueleka, Rose and Ivan acted as distractions while Luka and Marinette snuck past the security and slipped into the studio just as Alec was wrapping up the interview.

He shouldn’t have ripped off the mask, shouldn’t have yelled about unoriginality but he did and that led them to now.

The one time Luka isn’t the nice guy and it gets someone akumatised.

“Aw c’mon Lulu, you were so brave earlier and now you’re hiding like a little mouse~ Are you a little mouse Lulu?”

The akuma’s voice was like broken static, his golden heels clicked against the ground as he walked past the cupboard where Luka was hiding. Then he stopped

“I don’t wanna hurt you Lulu, we’ll be great friends I promise! I’ve never had a friend before, not a real one anyway-but you could change that, right?” The akuma simpered, and through the crack underneath the door, Luka could almost feel his breath against his ankles.

He certainly felt the chills it gave him anyway.

“Just o-open-pen the door, please Lulu. I don’t bite-I sing-ing though, would you like to hear me sing-ing? I promise that I’m g-goo-ood!”

“This isn’t you Xavier!” Luka tried. But how could he know for sure? Maybe Xy was like this, desperate and slightly creepy when the camera wasn’t turned on him.

The akuma hummed from the other side of the door. “It wasn’t. But it is now, do you not l-l-like it?”

Despite the radio crackle between his words, the way some of them sounded almost painful to say, Luka could hear the genuine sorrow the thought brought to the akuma. So he was attached to Luka, for some reason, he could work with that.

“Do you like it?”

The akuma fell silent again, electric light bounced between the gap in the door. If Luka didn’t leave soon then he’d be forced to.

“…does it mat-ter? If I-I like it.”

Luka took a deep breath, here goes nothing. “Well-yes! If you don’t like it then I won’t like it because then you won’t be happy!”

The akuma harumphed on the other side of the door. “Since when did you care about my feelings?”

Luka bit his lip, did he care about the akumas feelings? Did he even care about the feelings of Xy, the bratty popstar who he’d gotten akumatised in the first place?

No…no he didn’t really. But he didn’t really know the akuma or Xy and right now the akuma just sounds lonely, was he really about to exploit someone else’s loneliness to save himself? It sounded like something Bob Roth would do.

He opened the door with a soft click. He could hear the akuma startle on the other side, frantic in his rush to get out of the way.

Luka had been too scared and too focused on figuring out where on earth Marinette had gone before to get a good enough look at the akuma, now though. He just looked like a broken toy.

Like one of those porcelain marionettes Jueleka collected, except the usually pristine face was cracked, a dark mass of wires and string taking up whatever space was vulnerable.

His hair was a crown of gold curls that fell daintily around his face, framing the cracks like a painting neglected by it’s painter. He was dressed like a Barbie doll too. Bright pink jacket with golden shoulder pads (cropped because Luka’s bisexuality had to be teased by the sight of the akuma’s sleek abs), white crop top with an obnoxious logo on it (this guy had to realise that P.P just sounded wrong…right?), bright pink shorts that clung to him in a way that should’ve been attractive but just looked more uncomfortable and the golden heels that…Luka didn’t even want to think about those heels.

He needed to focus.

He offered a hand to the akuma on the floor. “I’ll be your friend.”He retracted his hand, just by a few inches. At the akumas hurt expression he continued. “As long as I’m talking to Xavier, not an amalgamation of what other people think of him, okay?”

It really shouldn’t have been that easy, but it was. The teenager that was left sitting in front of him after the akuma left him (yes Luka did try to catch it but Butterflies were left him (yes Luka did try to catch it but Butterflies were slippier than they got credit for and he had other things to prioritise), was definitely Xy but he seemed different.

He looked at Luka’s hand like it was a stray dog, ready to bite which was ironic because Luka was afraid that if he said the wrong thing then Xy would run away and he’d never get this opportunity again.

“Do you um…can we still be friends?” Luka asked. Xy looked up at his face and then back down at his hand before he took it and pulled himself up with a slight flush (that was not cute, get your mind out of the gutter Luka). He didn’t let go of Luka’s hand though.

“I um-I’m sorry bout stealing your beats bro! Da was gettin’ on my ass ‘bout ratings ‘n stuff and told me to just go with it.”

Luka nodded in understanding, although he was still mad over it, he was more mad and Bob Roth than Xy.

“It’s fine-well it’s not fine but it’s not really your fault right?”

Xy still didn’t look convinced but the guilty puppy dog eyes were adorable on him (not that Luka would ever admit it).

“Do you wanna go expose your Dad on live tv or something?”

Xy stared at him for a second, his brows furrowed in thought before he smiled and gripped Luka’s hand even tighter.

“Yea, sounds rad bro!”