#I applied to SNAP but my application’s taking forever

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

Shoutout to my school’s food bank; I actually have snacks to eat instead of just enough meals to get by. Plus I got care items like shampoo, conditioner, and toilet paper.

[aleskie-hischier]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄: 𝐒𝐞𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐒𝐨𝐨𝐧 Summary: Shutdowns and Serious Conversations Ice to Meet You Masterlist Previous

Word Count: 10.3k Warnings: This chapter features toxic parenting, mental shutdowns, and disordered eating. If that makes you uncomfortable, please prioritize yourself and do not read this chapter!

“Milana Petrova, how dare you do this to us?” Her mother’s voice booms, cutting through the air in Mila’s apartment like a blade. “How could you be so selfish? So thoughtless?” She strides back and forth, her heels clicking against the floor as she runs a hand through her perfectly styled hair, frustration etched into every sharp movement. “Are you not thinking? Do you not care about your future? Do you not think you owe this to us?”

Mila’s sitting cross-legged on the couch, her body curling into itself. She can barely muster a response. “Mom...can we not do this right now?”

“No, Milana. We are having this talk right now,” her mother snaps, “You always do this! You always run away when things get hard, when things start to challenge you. You’ve been doing this your whole life and I’m sick of it!” Her mother glares at her. “First, you couldn’t handle the thought of training through video calls, so you ran off to Boston. Then, homeschooling because real school was too much for you. And now? Now, you can’t even handle a single major at university? Do you even realize your brothers are applying for a double major?”

“I just need time,” Mila says, her voice small. “It’s just until after the Olympics and then—”

“Of course,” her mother interrupts, voice dripping with disdain. “Because it’s always about skating. Skating, skating, skating. You only ever think about skating! Do you have any idea how much effort your father and I put into getting you into that program? Do you understand how humiliating it is to have to explain to people why our daughter—our brilliant daughter—isn’t pursuing a straight degree?”

“It’s just a break!” Mila insists.

“Just a break?!” Her mother scoffs, eyes narrowing. “Do you really think skating will last forever? Do you think it will pay the bills? Do you think it will feed your children? Support you when you’re no longer relevant?” She shakes her head, her lips curling in disgust. “You’re throwing everything away for this—this hobby of yours. You’re not thinking! That’s your problem, Milana, you never think!”

“You don’t understand!” Mila’s voice cracks. “I can’t do both, I’ll burn out—”

“Then burn out!” Her mother snaps, her voice rising. “But don’t you dare quit. Do you hear me? I don’t care what it takes. You will not disgrace this family!” Her back is rigid, her expression cold. “God knows you’ve failed us enough already.”

“But I’m not failing! I’m good! Mom, I’m good—the best! I’m pursuing my dreams—”

“Dreams?” Her mother lets out a bitter laugh. “This isn’t a dream. This is a delusion. You’re throwing away your life for what? Applause? Attention? Do you even understand how smart you were, Milana? You could have done anything. You could have been someone.”

“Someone you wanted,” Mila mutters.

“Obviously, Milana. We’re your parents.” She pinches the bridge of her nose and takes a breath. “And as your parent, I’m telling you right now that you’re making the biggest mistake of your life. But we can still fix this. We can pull a few strings, retract your leave application, and—” “I’m not going back!” Mila shouts, her voice trembling with emotion.

Her mother’s eyes narrow, a look of icy contempt settling on her face. “What did you just say?”

“I said I’m not going back,” Mila repeats, her voice quieter now. “I can’t. It’s too much. It’ll kill me.”

“Then let it kill you.” Her mother’s words are cold, unfeeling. “I’d rather see you destroy yourself with work than live your life like this, embarrassing your father and I. Do you know how humiliating it is to have a daughter who can’t even finish a simple degree?” She stands tall, posture rigid and perfect, her face twisted in a look of pure disappointment. “Why can’t you be more like your brothers? They know how to work hard. They have ambition. They don’t quit the moment things get hard.”

“I’m not quitting,” Mila whispers, tears stinging her eyes. “I just—”

“You are quitting, Milana,” her mother cuts in. “And you’re doing it because you’re being stupid. You’re wasting your potential on something pointless, something that will leave you with nothing.”

Silence fills the room, heavy and suffocating. Mila struggles to hold back her tears, but it’s no use. She feels them welling up, blurring her vision.

Her mother’s gaze sharpens as she notices. “Oh, for God’s sake,” she mutters. “There you go again, crying like a child. You’re pathetic, Milana. Do you think anyone could want you like this? When you break down at the smallest dose of reality?”

Her words are like knives, cutting deeper with each syllable. Mila swallows hard, trying to compose herself, but it’s impossible. The tears spill over, and her mother’s expression hardens.

“You’re too sensitive, Milana. How could anyone ever love you if you keep acting like this?” 

Mila’s chest tightens as her emotions finally spill over. “You’re my mother,” she chokes out, her voice trembling. “You’re supposed to love me no matter what.”

Her mother’s face is a cold mask, utterly unflinching. “Love is earned, Milana. And right now?” She lifts her chin, her tone ice-cold and dismissive. “You don’t deserve it.”

The words hang in the air, suffocating Mila, as her mother spins around to leave. She feels hollow, the ache in her chest expanding.

“You didn’t always hate me,” she whispers, barely audible, her voice breaking under the weight of her emotions. Her mother doesn’t spare her a glance.

“I don’t hate you,” her mother responds, voice detached, “You’ll understand when you’re a parent. I do this because I worry.”

Mila stays frozen, watching as her mother walks away, the argument echoing in her mind leaving her with no comfort—only emptiness.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

Mila’s phone died a couple of days ago, but she can’t seem to bring herself to charge it. She hasn't spoken to anyone in two weeks. The last conversation she remembers was with Nicole, who had shown up at her door a few days into her self-imposed isolation after she missed a training session with no warning. 

There were no words between them—thankfully—but Nicole did for her what she couldn’t do for herself. She drew a bath, gently washed her hair, and made her food. The taste of the food doesn’t stick in Mila’s memory—everything is bland, like the days themselves—but she knows she would’ve loved it if she were better. Nicole’s presence alone was soothing, her warm hands, her gentle voice.

Nicole had asked, her tone calm and loving, what had happened.

“Mom,” Mila had whispered, and that was all it took. The dam broke. The tears came, and Nicole wrapped her up in her arms, rocking her gently and humming an old tune. Mila didn’t even have to explain the fight—Nicole knew. She always did.

Later, Nicole tucked her into bed, like she was a child again—back in her old bedroom in Boston, when times weren’t so hard and stakes weren’t as high. Mila’s phone was plugged in and charging on the nightstand, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at it. Georgi called that evening, letting her know she was getting the rest of the month off, no questions asked. Mila had murmured something resembling thanks, but the weight in her chest remained.

The days blurred together after that. She wasn’t sure how she was spending her time. She would wake up, wash her face, take a quick shower, and brush her teeth. Then she’d sit on the couch, staring blankly at Netflix or Prime, though nothing from the shows registered. Most of the time, she just stared at the ceiling, wondering when her brain might start working properly again. When she got tired of that, she’d curl up on the couch and drift off, only to repeat the same routine the next day.

Her phone was charged now, at least. It buzzed every so often with messages, but she never picked it up. There were probably twenty missed calls from her mother alone—each one more pressing and furious than the last, no doubt. She didn’t have the energy to face that storm, not yet.

And her friends. They didn’t deserve this. They didn’t deserve to be ghosted, ignored, treated like they didn’t exist. But, still, they kept messaging her. Little texts checking in, trying to pull her out of her shell. Maybe they didn’t hate her after all. Not yet. 

Nico’s texts had been among them, steady and patient at first, until they stopped altogether a few days ago. That stung. He probably thought she was done with him—thought that she was a coward for not explaining herself, for leaving him hanging. He deserved better than being ghosted after what had been a perfect night. She owed him at least an explanation, but that would require energy she didn’t have and courage she wasn’t sure existed anymore. Leave it to her to ruin something before it had the chance to start.

Maybe her mom was right. Maybe she was a quitter. Or worse—maybe she wasn’t. Maybe she didn’t quit at all; maybe she just ruins everything she touches. She’s already ruined so much. Her knees are shot, her mind is frayed, her body a mess of aches and pains she’s learned to ignore. She thinks of all the bridges she’s burned, friendships that have crumbled into dust because she didn’t have the strength—or maybe the courage—to hold them together. She thinks of the scars etched into her feet, the bruises that never seem to fade, constant reminders of the battles she fights with herself. She thinks of the pack of cigarettes hidden in her bedside drawer, waiting for the next moment when the weight of everything will become too much to bear.

The thoughts swirl in her mind, sharp and relentless. Exhaustion clings to her, pulling her down, but her mind keeps racing, keeps tearing at the seams of her peace. She needs to stop. She needs to rest. Maybe she just needs to sleep. So, she buries herself deeper into the couch, squeezing her eyes shut, willing herself to stop thinking. It was all too much. 

It was all too much.

She’s asleep for all of ten minutes before the doorbell rings. She ignores it, curling tighter into her comforter. Whoever it was, they could leave. She wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone.

The bell rings again. And again. And again.

By the fourth ring, Mila’s sure her neighbors are cursing her under their breath. Begrudgingly, she stomps over to the door, already irritated and ready to lash out at whoever was ruining her attempt at peace.

But when she swings the door open, her breath catches in her throat. Standing in front of her, wearing a sheepish smile and holding a bouquet of bright Tulips, is Nico.

“Hey,” he says softly, offering the flowers forward like a peace offering.

Mila’s heart skips, her irritation melting into a jumble of confusion, guilt, and something soft she doesn’t quite want to name.

“Hi,” she whispers, her voice cracking, tears beginning to well up in her eyes.

“You weren’t answering your phone,” Nico says, his smile gentle but his eyes searching her face with concern. “So, I thought...maybe you needed these.” He lifts the flowers slightly.

Mila can only stare for a moment, unsure of what to say. The weight of the last few weeks presses down on her, but seeing Nico standing there stirs something inside her—a flicker of warmth she hasn’t felt in weeks.

“I’m sorry,” she finally manages to say, her voice barely audible. 

And then the tears come—hot, uncontrollable, spilling down her face before she can stop them. Nico doesn’t hesitate. He steps forward and pulls her into his arms, enveloping her in warmth, in kindness. He doesn’t say a word, but he doesn’t need to. His embrace is strong, steady, and full of unspoken comfort.

In his arms, Mila understands everything he’s trying to tell her.

It’s alright. I’m here. I forgive you.

And for the first time in weeks, she lets herself believe it might be true.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

“I can’t believe you let yourself survive off fruits and water,” Nico chides gently. His tone is light, but there’s a quiet seriousness in his voice as he moves around Mila’s kitchen, whipping up something with what little she has in her fridge. Whatever he’s making, she assumes it’s soup, though she’s been banished to the kitchen island and can’t see much beyond his broad shoulders.

“Couldn’t stomach anything else,” she mutters, and it’s almost the truth. Every time she’d tried to eat something—cereal, hummus, the meal-prep kit Nicole had sent—her head swirled with nausea. But what she doesn’t say aloud, what she keeps buried deep inside, is the guilt that gnaws at her. The shame that sits heavy on her chest.

She doesn’t deserve a meal. Not when she’s knee-deep in a mess of her own making, tangled in regret over choices she could have avoided by not...quitting. Every bite feels like a betrayal, like a privilege she hasn’t earned. It’s easier to deny herself, to live off scraps, nibbling on fruit and sipping water every other day. Like punishing herself could somehow cleanse the weight of failure pressing down on her. It’s not just the nausea that keeps her from eating—it’s the belief that she doesn’t deserve anything more, the belief that she doesn’t deserve anything.

“Big bowls of fruit though,” she lies, trying to make it sound better than it was.

Nico huffs but says nothing, leaving the pot to simmer before turning to face her. Leaning on the island, he studies her, his eyes full of concern. “Do you want to talk about what happened?” His voice is soft, without pressure—just a gentle invitation.

Mila’s eyes flicker to the tulips he brought. Where does she even start? Her mom? The fight? The overwhelming sense of failure? She takes a deep breath.

“There’s this jump I can’t do,” she begins, her voice hesitant. “It’s called a Salchow. I’ve been struggling with it since I started skating. I land it in training, but during competitions…I always screw it up. Every time. I hate it so much that I beg Georgi to take it off my programs every time.”

“Why doesn’t he?” Nico asks, brow furrowed. “That’d make sense, right? If it’s giving you trouble.”

“There are rules,” she explains, staring at the marble counter. “You can’t repeat jumps, and certain elements are required. But that’s where it all starts, I think. I hate something so much that instead of trying to make it work, I just quit. I always…leave.”

Nico’s confusion deepens, but he nods, urging her to continue.

“I filed for a leave of absence so I could focus on training. I mean, it’s Olympic season again so…y’know…” She trails off. “I need to focus. I can’t do that if I’m struggling with whatever anatomy or biology bullshit I can’t grasp. I…” She pauses, taking a deep breath. “I don’t even like biology. I didn’t even want to come back here. I wanted to stay in Boston. I just wanted to make my parents happy for once.” 

Mila looks up at Nico. “Remember when you dropped me off after the arcade?”

He nods. 

“My mom called. She found out about my leave of absence because people she knows at my university were congratulating her. She didn’t say much on the phone, but she showed up at my apartment that night to yell at me.” Mila lets out a hollow laugh. “She said things, I said things. It was bad. Really bad. She called me a quitter…said I always quit when things got hard…She was just…” Her voice wavers, tears welling up as she relives the moment. “She was so mean, Nico. So mean.”

She’s crying again before she can stop herself, and Nico’s by her side in an instant, wrapping his arms around her as she sobs into his chest.

“I wish she didn’t hate me,” Mila whispers, her voice fragile and barely audible, like the softest breeze. Her eyes are downcast, fixed on the floor as though the weight of her words is too much to lift. “She didn’t always hate me. She liked me when I was a kid…We used to laugh so much.” She pauses, her breath trembling as she struggles to keep her emotions in check. The memory of simpler times feels distant, almost unreachable now.

“I get that she’s worried,” she continues, her voice wavering, but there's a flicker of understanding in her tone. “I know she’s concerned—in her own shitty way. But...she doesn’t have to be so mean.” Her words falter as the frustration and pain she’s held back for so long threaten to spill over. “She doesn’t have to call me names or compare me to my brothers. She doesn’t have to make me feel like I’m doing everything wrong. She doesn’t have to—” Her voice catches, breaking under the weight of unshed tears. “I just wish she could be nicer.”

“I know,” Nico whispers, holding her tighter. “I’m sorry.”

Mila pulls back slightly, wiping her face. “No, I’m sorry,” she says, her voice shaky. “I’m sorry I ghosted you. I’m sorry I made you worry, and I’m sorry you’re dealing with this mess.” She gestures to herself. “I’m just…I’m really, really sorry.”

Nico doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he wraps her up in his arms again, fingers gently combing through her hair. He holds her like that for a while, letting the silence speak for them both, before finally chuckling softly. “I’m just glad you don’t hate me.”

Mila’s eyes widen in surprise. “I could never hate you!” she blurts out. “You’re…” She pauses, thinking about him, about the man she’s come to know over the past months—kind, funny, with a heart as golden as his smile. “You’re wonderful. You’re good to me.”

Nico laughs, bright and genuine. He pulls her in even closer, if that’s possible, and rests his chin on her head. “You’re good to me too,” he murmurs, the warmth in his voice wrapping around her like a blanket.

What goes unsaid lingers between them: You’re good for me.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

“You do know New York has a limited amount of tulips, right?” Mila teases as she opens the door, a small smile tugging at her lips. She steps aside, letting him into her apartment.

Nico’s had a rough stretch—four consecutive losses against the Rangers. The first two ended with the Devs being shut out, followed by a 6-3 defeat and then another 5-3 loss just this afternoon. Mila had watched each game unfold on TV, each more painful than the last. She knew he hated losing, hated it even more when it felt like the whole team was drowning in what was now a six-game losing streak if you include the two games they lost against the Penguins.

“If New York runs out, there’s always Jersey,” he replies, flashing a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His usual playful energy is dimmed, exhaustion evident in the way his shoulders sag. The frustration radiates off him like heat. The weight of losses, the media, and pressures of leading a team taking a toll.

Mila notices it all—the slight slump in his posture, the weariness etched into the lines of his face. She wonders how he still manages to find the energy to come over after days like this, always with tulips in hand, as if that simple gesture could make everything feel lighter.

Mila notices all of it—the slight slump in his posture, the weariness etched in the lines of his face. She wonders how he still manages to find the energy to come over after days like this, always with tulips in hand, like he believes that this small gesture could somehow make everything feel lighter. He’s switched it up tonight though. He also brought takeout from the Asian-fusion spot just down the street from her apartment.

“You didn’t have to come,” Mila says softly as he steps inside, setting the flowers on the kitchen counter. “You should be resting.”

Nico shrugs, running a hand through his hair. “Resting is overrated,” he jokes, though his tone is tired. He pulls out the takeout containers from the paper bag, the familiar smell already filling her space. “Figured we could eat something good and relax.”

Mila smiles as she takes each container from his hands, setting them on the coffee table in her living room. “You’ve earned it.”

They settle on the couch with their food, Mila putting on the show they’ve been binge-watching—a fantasy drama filled with action, romance, and a painfully complicated love triangle. They eat in comfortable silence, occasionally throwing out comments about the characters' romantic choices.

But Mila finds herself watching Nico more than the screen, noticing how natural everything feels between them. The dinners, the flowers, the quiet conversations—it feels…easy. Like everything has fallen into place without either of them trying too hard.  The domesticity of it all—the simple act of sharing a meal and talking about something as trivial as a TV show—grounds her. She hasn’t felt that kind of ease in a long time.

She smiles to herself, watching his brow furrow as he goes off on a tangent about how the main character should end up with the blacksmith instead of the elf.

“He treats her better,” he argues, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice. “The elf puts her through all kinds of crap. Tests her loyalty. The sword guy just likes her for who she is. Things are simpler with him.”

She nods in agreement, though her mind drifts. Maybe that’s what makes this work—the simplicity of it all. She wants to be his, and in moments like this, it feels like she already is. But things right now are nice. Whatever is growing between them is new, but it’s comfortable. It’s easy. Nothing much to worry about. She knows they’ll have to talk eventually, figure out what they actually are to each other. But tonight? Tonight is for the quiet, for the simplicity of each other’s company.

By the time the end credits roll, they’ve finished eating. As they pack up the takeout containers, separating the trash from the leftovers Mila is grateful for—she won’t have to cook tomorrow—she can’t help but steal a glance at Nico. He looks worn out, but at least here, he’s letting himself relax.

When they settle back on the couch, she notices the way his shoulders sink into the cushions, the tension easing out of him. Before she can think too much about it, she opens her arms wide, her voice gentle. “Come here.”

He looks at her, surprise flashing in his eyes, but then he smiles—a real one this time. He shifts closer to her, sinking into her embrace. His larger frame engulfs her, and as his head rests against her shoulder, she runs her fingers through his hair. If she catches a slight flush on his cheeks, she doesn’t mention it.

“It's been a rough day for you,” Mila murmurs, more of a statement than a question.

“It’s been a rough month,” Nico admits, his voice hollow with frustration. “We’re trying, but nothing’s working. I’m supposed to pull us out, but I can’t. You can only say so many words of encouragement until it starts to feel forced. Fake.” He sighs deeply. “I feel like I should be doing more.”

She hums in response as he abruptly sits up and looks at her. “It’s more than a rough patch. It’s like we can’t get out of this slump, like we aren’t moving forward. And I just…” He takes a breath. “It’s all on me.” 

Mila takes his hand in hers, drawing small circles on the back of it with her thumb. “You know it’s not.”

“It feels like it is,” he says, his voice quieter now.

They sit like that for a while, only quiet reassurance and the soft hum of the city filling the room. There was a quiet understanding between them—outside was heavy with expectations, with responsibilities, and pressure. But within these walls, with each other and the space they share, it’s peaceful. It’s just them.

After a moment, Nico intertwines his fingers with hers and gives her a small, tired smile. “I like being with you,” he says softly, “You’re safe.”

She feels her heart dance at his words, and she returns his smile with one of her own. “I think it’s the tulips. They might have magical powers.”

He chuckles, the sound low and comforting. “Or maybe it’s you.”

They fall into silence again, but this time, it feels different—heavier, more charged. Nico pulls her closer, their faces only inches apart, eyes meeting in a quiet exchange that speaks of feelings neither of them have the energy to explore tonight. 

She rests her head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under her cheek. It’s calming. His hand continues playing with her hair, the gentle strokes grounding them both in the quiet intimacy of the moment. He feels real.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

"Why is there takeout in your fridge?" Cole asks, brow raised as he peers inside. He’s always been nosy, but this time, there’s an edge of curiosity that Mila can’t ignore. “You never eat takeout. You think it's too unhealthy.”

Mila’s on an apology tour, inviting those closest to her over for lunch. Georgi and Nicole are lounging in the living room, chatting away while some show plays in the background. Chloe’s sprawled on the couch, half-listening to the conversation, half-scrolling through her phone. Michelle has taken up the role of sous chef, standing beside Mila at the counter, dicing vegetables with practiced ease. Cole, naturally, has declared himself the official ‘taste tester,’ sneaking bites of whatever comes within arm’s reach.

"I had a friend bring it over a couple of days ago," Mila says casually, trying not to let the onions sizzling in the pan distract her too much.

"You have other friends?" Cole teases, leaning against the fridge, though his curiosity is evident. His tone is playful, but Mila can feel everyone’s attention shift to her, the unspoken question hanging in the air.

Michelle chuckles, setting down the knife. "He’s got a point, Mila. You’re not exactly the most sociable person."

Mila pouts in mock offense, stirring the pan. "I have lots of friends, thank you very much."

"Sure," Michelle says with a grin, placing the freshly chopped vegetables next to her. "Here’s the rest of the veggies. Coley, c’mon, let’s leave her alone before she burns the onions."

Cole shoots Mila a mock salute before following Michelle out of the kitchen. Mila listens as they join the others in the living room, and she lets out a quiet sigh of relief, grateful for the temporary reprieve. But she knows that question isn’t going away anytime soon.

By the time lunch is ready, the apartment smells like roasted chicken and fresh herbs, the warm, savory scents filling every corner. They all gather around the dining table, a spread of roast chicken, pasta, and salad laid out in front of them. The atmosphere is light, filled with the sound of laughter and the clinking of glasses as they dig into the food.

As the conversation starts to wind down, Mila clears her throat, her fingers fidgeting with her napkin. "I just wanted to say I’m sorry…for ghosting," she begins, glancing around at the people who mean the most to her. "I know I’ve been distant lately, and that’s on me. I fought with mom again, but that’s not an excuse to ignore you guys. Especially when you’ve all been trying so hard to check in on me."

“We get it, hun.” Chloe smiles softly from across the table, her eyes warm. “No offense, but your mom’s an ass."

Her blunt statement earns a round of chuckles from everyone, easing the tension.

Mila can’t help but laugh too, shaking her head. "I know," she admits, her voice soft. "But still, I feel like I should’ve handled it better. I can’t keep shutting down just because my mom gets mean. So...I’m sorry. Really."

Georgi nods, his expression understanding. "We’re right here, Mila. You’ll be okay.”

There’s a comforting reassurance that wraps around her, soft and gentle. A reminder that things will be okay, that things can get better. For the first time in a while, she feels like she’s back—back with the people who matter most. Everything falls into place.

But then, of course, Cole breaks the moment.

"You can make it up to us by telling us who brought you the leftovers," he says, grinning mischievously as he pops another bite of chicken into his mouth.

Mila tenses, trying to keep her cool, but after a beat, Georgi—always too perceptive—adds, "Probably the guy who picked her up from training the other week."

Mila nearly chokes on her salad, her fork clattering onto her plate. "Georgi!" she splutters, almost whiny, eyes pleading at him as the entire table swivels their attention back to her, wide-eyed.

"He picked you up from the rink?" Nicole asks, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. "You’re that serious already?"

Mila waves her hands frantically. "We’re not serious!" She blurts out, her voice a little too high-pitched. "Not yet, I mean...I don’t know. I mean, it’s not like that. Not yet, at least! We’re—" She trails off, realizing she’s making everything sound even worse.

“Oh my god!” Chloe exclaims, her eyes wide with excitement. “You’re totally deflecting! You guys are so serious!

“We’re not!” Mila practically whines, her face flushing. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”

“So, what do you even do?” Michelle asks, poking at her salad with her fork. “You just...hang out?”

Mila shrugs. “I mean, yeah. He comes over, we eat, watch stuff on TV… you know, that kind of stuff.”

“Okay, wait,” Cole cuts in, raising a suspicious eyebrow. “So, in the two months since you last complained about Mystery Man, you suddenly find a new guy to canoodle with?” He smirks, crossing his arms. “Unless...” He shoots Mila a knowing look, which the rest of the table immediately catches onto.

The room falls into a thick, anticipatory silence, eyes glued to Mila, eager for her confirmation.

Mila shifts uncomfortably under their stares. “His name is Nico,” she admits quietly, face flushing even deeper. “He’s a hockey player and he’s sweet to me.” She stabs a tomato with her fork and pops it into her mouth, hoping to avoid the onslaught of reactions. 

It doesn’t work. The table erupts in an explosion of laughter, cheers, and gasps.

“Mila Petrova!” Chloe yells, practically bouncing in her seat. “You bagged your Mystery Man!”

“And he’s a hockey player!” Cole adds, pointing his fork at her, grinning.

Mila lets out a small chuckle, shaking her head. “I didn’t bag anyone. We’re not even official. We’re not anything yet.”

“But you want to be?” Nicole asks, her voice teasing and slightly probing, but sincere. 

Mila’s lips curl into a small, knowing smile. The table erupts again, the excitement palpable.

The rest of the evening is filled with light-hearted conversation, laughter flowing as easily as the wine. They hop from relationships to love advice, skincare routines, and the most random, obscure topics imaginable. It’s a cozy, carefree gathering, and Mila feels a sense of normalcy she didn’t realize she missed so badly.

As the meal winds down, everyone helps tidy up. Michelle and Chloe wipe down the dining table, while Cole and Georgi hover over the sink, rinsing off plates and loading the dishwasher. The clatter of silverware and the hum of idle chatter fill the space.

Mila and Nicole linger at the kitchen island, quietly chatting as the rest of the group moves about.

“I’m really glad he makes you happy,” Nicole says, her tone gentle, warm. “He seems like a nice guy. You’ll have to introduce us sometime, yeah?”

Mila nods, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “He’s really kind. He brought me to an arcade the other day. We go for walks. He even gets me flowers.”

Nicole’s eyes drift to the tulips in the vase nearby. “Did he give you those?”

Mila follows her gaze and nods, her smile widening. “Yeah, he gets me tulips every time we see each other.”

Nicole hums in approval, her smile mirroring Mila’s.

Just then, Mila’s phone buzzes with a notification. She glances down at it and a wide grin spreads across her face as she scans the message.

Her smile is apparently enough to catch Michelle and Chloe’s attention. They exchange knowing looks before sneaking a peek at her phone.

Nico 🌷: Bad game tonight 🙁 You should come to one! Maybe you’re my lucky charm 😁

“Oh my god!” Chloe exclaims, nearly startling Mila as she peers over her shoulder. “You have to say yes!”

“Yes to what?” Cole asks, his interest piqued as he wanders over with Georgi trailing behind him.

“He asked her to a game!” Michelle announces, barely able to contain her excitement. “And he called her his lucky charm!”

The news hits the room like a spark, and suddenly the whole table comes alive with energy. Voices overlap in a mixture of teasing laughter and playful jeers. Chloe claps her hands together, Michelle shakes Mila's arm in encouragement, and Cole’s eyes light up with a mischievous grin.

Mila, now flushed a deep shade of crimson, bites her lip to hold back a grin. She quickly types out her response, her fingers moving a little too fast as her heart races in her chest. The noise around her is a whirlwind of playful banter, teasing questions flying at her from every direction.

Mila: Just tell me when and where, cap 😘 

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

Hockey games, Mila decided, were electric. The energy in the arena was unlike anything she had experienced at her own competitions. Figure skating was elegant, almost serene, with moments of hushed anticipation and polite applause. Sure, fans waved flags and held up banners, but hockey fans were an entirely different breed. They brought a certain chaotic joy to it all—the jerseys, face paint, wild costumes, and booming chants. It was loud, exhilarating, and so new to her, but she couldn’t help but get caught up in the thrill of it all.

Though distancing regulations kept the crowd smaller than usual, the atmosphere was still alive with excitement. The cheers echoed around the arena, bouncing off the walls. Nico had managed to snag her an incredible seat with a clear view of the rink, and she now wore a jersey with his number proudly displayed on the back.

"I'll score a goal for you," Nico had said over the phone earlier, his voice filled with playful confidence. She could almost hear the smile in his words, which brought a smile to her lips in return, anticipation bubbling in her chest.

The familiar cold inside the arena felt comforting. She watched the game, fascinated by the contrast between her world of graceful performances and the gritty, fast-paced intensity of hockey. The physicality, the crashes against the boards, the speed of the game—it was rough and raw and real and captivating. 

She leaned forward, her eyes following Nico as he skated across the ice, his focus sharp and movements powerful. Watching him was mesmerizing, the way he was so sure of himself, the way he knew just where he needed to be. 

Where the puck is, Mila doesn't really know. She’s sure Nico had it just a second ago—she'd been watching him intently—but then she blinked, and in that split second, it vanished from his stick and someone else had possession. A quick skirmish follows, and she loses track of the puck entirely. Suddenly, the crowd around her erupts into cheers, the energy around her surging. She hesitates for a moment, confused, but joins in, clapping and shouting with them. It takes her a second to realize what happened—she spots the team gathering around Nico, patting him on the back—and then it hits her: It was his goal.

She breaks into a wide smile. The first goal of the game, and he got it. For the team, of course, but a part of her can’t help but wonder...maybe for her too? The thought sends a flutter through her chest, warming her cheeks as she blushes quietly to herself.

The rest of the game is intense, far more nerve-wracking than she had anticipated. There are moments where the energy crackles—fights breaking out on the ice, fierce skirmishes for control, missed shots that make her grip the edge of her seat, and penalties that leave players sent off in frustration. The Devils take an early lead, but it doesn’t last long. The Flyers are relentless, catching up with every opportunity, and what follows is an almost dizzying back-and-forth of goals. Every time one team scores, the other seems to retaliate almost immediately.

Mila finds herself holding her breath with every passing second, her heart pounding in time with the chaotic pace of the game. As the clock ticks closer to the final moments, the tension in the arena is palpable, but the Devils pull ahead one last time, sealing their win at 6-4. The cheers are deafening, and Mila, now fully caught up in the excitement, cheers wildly with the rest of the crowd, the familiar thrill of victory coursing through her.

It was a completely new experience for Mila—cheering for someone else. Her life had been wrapped up in the competitive world of figure skating, where every win or loss felt intensely personal, and every rival was just another obstacle in her path. Outside of skating, sports had never really captured her attention, so the idea of celebrating someone else’s victory, especially in such a fiercely competitive environment, had always felt a little foreign to her. After all, in skating, the victories she witnessed were often at her expense.

But this was different. There was something so pure and uncomplicated about watching Nico on the ice, knowing that she wasn’t competing against him. She wasn’t comparing herself or measuring up. She was just...supporting him, and it felt good. It was light, freeing in a way she hadn’t expected. Cheering for someone else didn’t diminish her own success or sense of self-worth. Instead, it added something, a new layer of joy she hadn’t realized she was missing. And for once, she could sit back, relax, and enjoy the moment without any pressure holding her back.

This was something she could get used to.

After the game, Mila makes her way to the tunnel, following a group of fans who seem to know the way. It’s a mix of excitement and anticipation—she’s never done this before, but she wants to see him, to congratulate him in person. She finds a spot in a corner and waits patiently, her phone in hand but her attention flicking up every now and then to watch the scene around her.

The tunnel is bustling. Some fans linger, hoping for a glimpse of their favorite players. There are women she assumes to be the wives and girlfriends of the team, some of them sporting elegant rings and wearing passes around their necks that mark them as more than just spectators. Friends, family members, and staff stream about, all high with the post-game energy. It’s a bit surreal, being here, but also oddly comforting.

And then, after what feels like an eternity, she spots him—Nico, walking toward her. He looks tired, his hair damp, but there’s a lightness in his step that hadn’t been there the last few weeks. The tension in his shoulders hasn’t completely disappeared, but he looks...better. Happier, in a way that eases something inside her.

Mila smiles softly to herself as he approaches, feeling that familiar warmth again. He had promised her a goal, and he’d delivered.

“Did you enjoy the game?” Nico asks, his voice a little tired but filled with that signature tease.

“I did,” she grins, “Though I really enjoyed that first goal. My favorite player got it in, y'know?” She raises an eyebrow playfully, the teasing note in her voice matching his.

Nico chuckles, his eyes catching on the jersey she’s wearing, the one he gave her—his number stretched across her back. A soft look passes over his face. “You look good in thirteen.”

Mila pouts, feigning offense. “I always look good,” she counters, lifting her chin in mock pride, “You might just be reeling from the high of winning.”

He lets out a short laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Winning does feel good,” he agrees, “But I think I have to thank my lucky charm for it.” His gaze lingers on her for a moment, warm and affectionate.

Her heart skips a beat at his words, a blush creeping up her neck. She doesn’t know how to respond to that without giving away how much those simple words affect her, so she just nudges him lightly with her shoulder, a small smile playing at her lips. 

“You’re just lucky I showed up,” she quips, her voice softer now, the banter giving way to something more tender.

“I’m glad you did,” he says, equally gentle. His voice lowers, almost intimate, “Did I impress you tonight?”

“You always impress me,” she replies with a small smile, lifting her hand to brush a few stray strands of hair away from his face. “Now go change and finish your stuff so you can walk me to my car.”

Nico chuckles, his eyes lingering on her for just a beat longer than usual. “See you later,” he murmurs before heading off to get dressed.

As she waits, Mila’s eyes trail over the remaining fans, watching as they drift away one by one—some clutching freshly signed jerseys or sticks, others hurrying off to catch the last glimpse of their favorite players. She notices the wives and girlfriends, with their rings and VIP passes, leaving with their partners. In the quiet hum of the arena, her mind wanders.

She pictures a future—their future. A world where she wears a ring, his ring, and they head home together, to a cozy apartment, where their dark brown Newfoundland would be waiting by the door. In this imagined life, everything is simple. Everything plays out as it should. Perfect. They make it. They’re real.

She wants it so badly—wants them to be real, to have that consistency, to know they belong to each other. She wants more than this in-between, more than just the undefined territory of friendship. She craves the security, the label, the clarity of knowing he’s hers and she’s his. It’s terrifying, how much she wants it. 

She’s taught herself to stop wanting. Wanting only gets you hurt. Wanting only leaves you alone and friendless. Wanting leaves you with nothing. But with him? God, she wants it more than anything.

“Ready to go?”

Nico’s voice pulls her out of her thoughts, and she looks up to see him standing there in his dark blue suit and sneakers. He’s skipped the tie, making him look relaxed but still striking. He looks…hot. Dashing. Like a prince.

“Yeah,” she smiles.

The walk to her car is quiet, a comfortable kind of silence. His hand is warm in hers, his thumb absentmindedly tracing small circles on her skin. They talk, but it’s easy conversation—she asks about the game, and he patiently explains the details, the calls, the plays. She finally learns what a power play is after months of forgetting to look it up. It dawns on her that she could probably learn everything about hockey if Nico were the one teaching her.

She enjoys hearing him talk about hockey. He’s so passionate about it, so in love with the sport and its culture. Even when things aren’t going great, there’s an unmistakable glimmer in his eyes when he talks about hockey—his eyes would light up and he instantly got more animated. It’s in these moments she realizes just how deeply he loves it, how ingrained it is in him. She loves seeing him like this, so alive with something he cares about.

As he talks, she watches him, realizing with every word, every smile, how hard she’s fallen. It’s not just his passion for the sport or the way his eyes sparkle or the way his hair flows. It’s the way he always makes sure to match her pace when they walk, how he gently maneuvers her when she’s not paying attention so she doesn’t bump into anything. It’s the way he watches her shows with her and gets just as invested as she does. It’s his gentle voice and playful teasing. It’s the infectious sound of his laughter and the way his hand fits so perfectly in hers. It’s all the little things, she realizes—the kind of things not many people have ever done for her.

She doesn’t know if it’s love. But she knows she could love him. She knows she’s on her way there.

“You alright?” he asks, breaking her out of her thoughts. They’re standing by her car now, and he’s looking down at her with that soft, familiar smile. “What’s on your mind?”

“Just…” She hesitates, glancing up at him, her heart racing. “You.”

Nico’s expression shifts, his smile turning both amused and curious. “Me?”

“I think about you a lot these days,” she admits, her cheeks flushing, the vulnerability of the moment sinking in.

“Oh really?” His voice dips as he reaches out, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. His hand lingers, cupping her face as she leans into the touch. “What do you think about?”

Mila meets his gaze, her eyes searching his for a sign—something to show that he’s thinking it too, that he’s thought of everything she’s thought of, that this isn’t one-sided. “Everything,” she whispers, her voice steady but her heart pounding in anticipation. She hopes he understands. Hopes he feels the same. Hopes this is the start of something more.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

They’re hanging out at Nico’s apartment today—he had suggested a “change of scenery”—and she’d brought him a bouquet of tulips. It seemed only fair given the number of times he’d brought her flowers before.

“I thought tulips were my thing?” he teases, letting her in with a playful smirk.

“They can be our thing,” she responds with a grin, handing them over.

After a bit of back-and-forth banter, she’s eventually banished to sit at the kitchen island while Nico takes charge of dinner. As he moves confidently around the kitchen, they talk about everything under the sun.

Mila tells him about how she’s recently picked up embroidery. She describes the beginner’s kit she bought, the stitches she’s learned, and how much she enjoys the slow, meditative process. Nico listens, asking questions and nodding along, before deciding this was when he was going to just casually drop the fact that he spent some time in mandatory military service. He tells her stories about the old teammates he got to reconnect with back in Switzerland and the emergency medical techniques he learned. 

Their conversation shifts from light to serious, but it’s always easy, never forced. They laugh, swap stories, and continue talking even as they clean up together afterward, loading the dishwasher in an effortless dance of shared tasks.

It strikes Mila how soft and…domestic their time together feels. The easy rhythm of their conversations, the long shared meals, the way they both naturally fall into tasks like tidying up—it all feels so effortless, like they’ve been doing this for years. There’s a comfort in it, a sense of home, even if they’ve never defined what they are. It's as though the space between them has closed entirely, leaving only this familiar intimacy that she hadn’t realized she craved so badly. She could imagine this being their life—a quiet routine of shared meals, late-night conversations, and lazy afternoons together. 

Eventually they end up on his couch and, as usual, he lets her take control of their show for the day. It takes a while, but she runs into a completed playlist of Monster High episodes and decides she’d introduce him to one of her childhood favorites. To her surprise—and amusement—he quickly becomes invested, particularly in the endless cycle of drama surrounding Deuce and Cleo’s relationship.

“Why don’t they just break up?” Nico remarks, his voice full of disbelief as he watches another argument unfold. “They’re so…toxic.”

“Hey now, they have their cute moments.” She laughs, the sound bubbling up easily. “Besides, you’re getting way too into this.”

“Drama is drama,” he shrugs, though there’s a playful grin tugging at his lips. “I didn’t expect to care this much either.”

The thought of telling anyone that New Jersey’s captain got hooked on Monster High drama makes her laugh even harder. 

By the time they’ve made it into Volume 2, Nico’s head has found its way to her lap, his eyes heavy with exhaustion from his game yesterday as her fingers absentmindedly comb through his hair. His arm is wrapped snugly around her waist, and he curls a little closer, the comfort of her lulling him into a restful state.

He looks up at her, his eyes soft. “I feel like you need to come to every game. We’ve won all three games you’ve been to.” He’s referring to her attending the Flyers games last week and yesterday’s game against the Bruins.

Mila smiles, laughing softly. “You guys also won the away game I didn’t go to.”

“But we lost the first game here against the Bruins, which you didn’t go to,” he pouts, burrowing his head further into her torso. “If you’re there, it’s a guaranteed win.”

“Too bad I have a job,” she teases.

“If you want to quit being an athlete and become my professional lucky charm, I’ll take care of you,” he says, his tone playful but with a hint of something more. She can feel the smile forming on his lips as he presses them gently against her torso.

Her heart skips a beat. She knows he’s joking—or at least mostly joking—but still, the idea lingers. A future where she goes to all his games, where she’s wearing his jersey, where maybe—just maybe—she’s wearing his ring.

“You’ll take care of me?” she asks, her voice soft and almost hesitant.

“Yeah,” Nico says quietly, the sincerity in his voice catching her off guard. “I’ll take care of you.”

There’s something so gentle in the way he says it that it almost feels like a promise, and Mila wonders if maybe, just maybe, that future she’s imagined isn’t so far off. 

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

The off-season for an athlete is probably the closest thing to heaven. The freedom from strict training schedules, the ability to eat whatever you want, and the unregimented daily routine where you can sleep in as long as you like—it’s the sweet taste of living life on your own terms. For once, there’s no pressure, no expectations, no looming competition. Just space and time to do what you want, whenever you want. 

Mila’s own season had ended a little over a month ago, leaving her with a reduced training schedule and an abundance of time. Whether she spent her days doom-scrolling through social media or tackling something productive, it didn’t matter. She had the luxury of choice. She'd crossed off every book on her ever-growing 'to-read' list, cleaned out her closet, indulged in some retail therapy, caught up with friends she hadn’t seen in months, and even picked up a new hobby—embroidery, of all things.

Nico’s season, on the other hand, had just ended last week after a series of away games. But now, for the first time in months, they were both absolutely free. Mila loved this first week of them both being in the off-season. The time they’d gotten to spend together felt like a reward. With no demanding schedules hanging over their heads, they could simply be.

They had hit the gym together, gone hiking, explored museums, and treated each other to lunches and dinners at their favorite spots. One day, Nico had taken her on a tour of his favorite places in Jersey, and the next day, Mila showed him around New York. But her favorite so far had been the day they spent at the boardwalk. They ate ice cream, got far too competitive at an arcade, and wandered into local bookstores. Mila had watched, laughing, as Nico slightly struggled under the weight of her book haul, stubbornly insisting on carrying all of them himself.

“Are you really going to read all of this?” he’d asked, raising an eyebrow while loading the stack of novels into his car.

“It’s the off-season,” she replied with a mischievous smile. “I have all the time in the world.”

On the drive back, they talked about plans to return for a beach picnic sometime soon. Everything felt perfect. It was simple. It was safe. And Mila found herself wanting so desperately to freeze time, to keep this easy, happy bubble they were living in intact for just a little longer. The off-season was a happy occasion after all, a time to unwind, to relax. But there was an undeniable shadow lurking in her mind—off-season also meant Nico would soon be heading home.

And home wasn’t anywhere near here.

A day before his flight back to Switzerland, Mila sat curled up in an armchair in his apartment, his phone in her hand, scrolling through a list of essentials he needed to pack. They went through it one by one, checking to make sure everything was ready. His suitcase—a massive one, large enough to hold everything he needed for the months-long trip—sat open on the floor beside her. Each time she glanced at it, a tight knot formed in her chest. The suitcase felt like a symbol of something larger, something more unsettling. It was big enough to carry everything he needed to leave—and never come back. The thought sent a shiver down her spine, even though she knew how irrational it was.

But what if, when he did come back, things had changed? What if, after spending time away, he realized he didn’t want this anymore? What if they didn’t mesh together the way they used to? What if he came back and decided he didn’t want her anymore?

Mila’s fingers tightened around his phone as the fears she’d been keeping at bay finally broke through. She hated herself for even thinking this way, but she couldn’t shake the feeling. She had no right to be upset if that happened. After all, they weren’t together. Not officially, anyway. They hadn’t defined what they were, hadn’t put labels on anything. But even so, the thought of losing this—losing him—made her stomach twist. They weren’t anything…yet, she couldn’t help but wish they were.

She’s had so much fun with him recently that she’d nearly forgotten that what they are is…undefined. And for the first time, that fact scares her.

“You’re leaving tomorrow,” she said quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper as she sat in the armchair, still holding his phone.

“First thing in the morning,” he replied. He was sprawled out on the couch, lazily scrolling through his phone. His bags were already packed and sitting by the door. The sight of them made her stomach churn. This was really happening. He was really leaving.

And for the first time, Mila wasn’t sure what would happen when he came back—or if he’d want to come back to her at all.

Mila rises from the chair, her heart racing as she moves to join Nico on the couch. He shifts to make room, resting his head on her lap, a comforting weight that grounds her in the moment. They settle into a quiet silence, the kind that envelops you like a warm blanket, both of them relishing the simple pleasure of each other’s presence. As Nico scrolls through his phone, Mila absentmindedly plays with his hair, the familiar gesture soothing her nerves.

“What if you don’t like me anymore when you come back?” she asks before she can stop herself. Her voice is soft, almost a whisper, tinged with vulnerability.

He glances up, brows furrowed in concern. “I wouldn’t do that to you.” Sitting up, he turns to face her fully. “What makes you think I’d change my mind about you so easily?”

Mila’s gaze drifts around the room, avoiding his eyes. She knows if she looks at him, the dam holding back her emotions might break. “I just…” She takes a steadying breath. “We’re not really anything.”

“Do you really think that?” he asks gently, his voice softening.

“I think we’re something,” she admits, her voice trembling. “It’s just…confusing.” Meeting his gaze, she continues, “We cuddle on the couch, go on dates, you watch all my shows with me. I know more about you than my own siblings. You bring me tulips.” Her voice trails off for a moment. “And yet we aren’t anything.”

Nico inches closer, his eyes never leaving hers, a mixture of concern and affection swirling in his expression. “Do you want to be something?”

“Do you?” She hopes he doesn’t hear the tremor of fear in her voice. She needs him to respond, to give her the assurance she craves.

He cups her face in his hands, his touch warm and tender, and plants a soft kiss on her forehead. “If you want me, then yes.” The sincerity in his voice wraps around her like a comforting blanket. It’s gentle, sweet, and filled with a kindness that pulls at her heart. She wants him, and he wants her too. It feels perfect. So why does a wave of anxiety wash over her all of a sudden?

Looking at him, she sees the good—the light he brings into her life. He’s the kind of person anyone would admire, the type people would willingly follow into battle. But what about her? 

“I could ruin you,” she whispers, squeezing his hands gently. “I ruin a lot of things.”

“You could never,” he replies, his voice firm yet soothing.

“I could though,” she insists, her voice trembling. “What if I hurt you? What if you hurt me? What if we end up fighting all the time and hate each other’s guts? What if we get together only to realize it was a mistake?” She takes a shaky breath. “I couldn’t live with that.”

“You’re scared,” he observes simply, his tone not judgmental but understanding.

“I am.” She can feel the tears welling up, threatening to spill over. “You’re real, Nico. You’re so real. And I’m so scared. I—” Her voice catches in her throat, a lump forming. “I’ve never felt like this before. I want to be with you. I want this to be real, but I’m just—” She stops herself, the weight of her feelings pressing down. “What if one day you realize you don’t want me anymore?”

“You’re good to me,” he replies, his eyes sincere and unwavering. “You make me laugh. You listen. You’re kind, funny, and so incredibly talented. I love taking walks with you, watching your shows. I love being with you.” He leans in, placing a gentle kiss on her wrist, a simple gesture that sends warmth coursing through her. “I don’t think there’s a universe where I wouldn’t want you.”

In that moment, as she feels the sincerity of his words settle over her, she wonders if she can dare to hope for more.

“But what if—what if it gets hard? What if we can’t handle it? God, what if we end up like my parents?” The words tumble out in a rush, her voice trembling as she swallows hard. “You’re one of the few good things in my life. I don’t want you to hate me. I don’t want you to settle. I just—I don’t want to lose you.” The admission hangs in the air, a fragile confession that feels almost like a plea, cutting through the silence that envelops them.

Nico takes a deep breath, his grip on her tightening as if he’s holding on for dear life. “Mila, I don’t know what the future holds. But I know I want you in mine.” His smile is warm and sincere, a beacon of hope amidst her fears. “I want you when things are fine, and I’ll want you even when things get hard. Especially when things get hard.” He caresses her cheek, his touch tender yet grounding. “I choose you.”

In that moment, she falls silent, her chest heavy with the weight of his words. The realization washes over her—she’s never been someone’s choice before. It’s a terrifying and beautiful thought all at once. Tentatively, she lets out a breath, her heart caught between fear and something deeper, something that feels like hope.

“I’m—I’m choosing you too,” she replies softly, her voice gaining strength. “I want to figure things out with you. I want to go through this with you, day by day. I want you. Even though it scares me.”

Nico leans in closer, wrapping her in his arms, his voice barely above a whisper. “Then we’ll figure it out. Slowly. One day at a time. Together.”

She closes her eyes, letting herself sink into the warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoing against her own. In this moment, the world feels fragile, like glass poised on the edge of a precipice. But for the first time in a long while, she isn’t afraid of it breaking. She isn’t afraid of them breaking. 

“I’m all in,” she murmurs against his shoulder, her voice firm and resolute. “I’m all in with you.”

[kissingkiszka]

Photographs - Danny Wagner x Reader

Danny’s birthday special!

"We keep this love in a photograph,we made these memories for ourselves."

Words: 1.9k+

Summary: You look back on all the memories you’ve made with Danny over your shared love of pictures, and each other, due to the fact that you are unable to see him on his birthday…

CW: fluff, missing somebody, being alone, cheesiness, surprises, not proofread, angst? idk

This story was heavily inspired by Photograph by Ed Sheeran

(All photos used were taken by Joe Greer)

—————————————————————

You had always joined your boyfriend, Danny, on tour. Over the years of touring with him, you had always loved taking behind-the-scenes photographs to look back on. Photography had always been your passion, but being able to photograph Danny made you pursue it even more.

However recently, you weren't able to join him on the recent shows. The photographs you had taken were magical keepsakes, you had always kept one in a locket that you wore proudly around your neck. He always sacredly kept one of you in his wallet, showing it off to everyone he met. He always pulled out the wrinkled and well-loved photograph when he was missing you extra, holding it close to his chest and wishing for the next time he would see you to get here as fast as it could.

You lie in bed one night, feeling lost without him. It had been at least 2 full months without picking up your camera, let alone seeing him at all.

You flipped through a hefty photo book you had been placed underneath your bed for safe keeping. Flipping through the pages, you land on a series of photos of your longtime boyfriend, one of him drumming on a sink in the restroom backstage, one of him sitting down and having his rhinestones being applied, another one in which you made him pose for you shortly after the rhinestones were applied. And the last one on the page was one in where he looks like he's reaching out to take the camera from you. You still remember each and every moment that led up to these moments being forever frozen in time.

…

"Look, Y/N!" Danny dragged you into the bathroom. "It's a private drum solo, just for you." He pulled you in for a smiling kiss.

"Daniel!” You swatted at his shoulder playfully. "You know I've always wanted you to serenade me!"

"My girl always gets what she wants." He blushed and then begins to drum a simple rhythm onto the countertop.

"Wait! I need to capture this!" You say, grabbing your camera from the counter and snapping a quick picture. After he's done, you place the camera back in its position and return to his side.

"You blow me away every time. Whether it's an actual drum set or a sink countertop." A smile creeps upon your lips and slither your arm around his muscular bicep.

"Whenever I'm playing drums, just know I'm doing it for you." He wraps his strong arms around you and pulls you in for a kiss before having to leave for the stage.

...

"Danny, you look like a pretty princess!" You turn the corner, your camera in hand.

"Wait! I'm not done yet, hun." He grins, blushing. He's all giddy and nervous. "Look away, I don't want to spoil it before it's ready!"He giggles.

"Okay then, guess I'll just have to wait. But promise me you'll pose for me when it's done. I want to see the finished product."

"I promise. Now, shoo!" He begins to raise his finger to shoo you away.

You snap a quick picture before he could interject. You run away quickly, laughter escaping your lips.

...

Danny chases you down the hall once he's done with his rhinestone application.

"Y/N!" He calls out, not even attempting to hide his laughter. He pretends to be angry, but is oh so bad at it.

"Boo!" You pop out from around the corner, a quick 'agh!' Escaping his lips.

"Haha, you scared me." He pants.

"I know." You take hold of his hand and use your other to hold the camera to his face. "About that promise-"

"Let's see, with that stunt you pulled back there-" he broke out into more laughter. "Eh, who am I kidding? Let's take some pictures!"

"Yay!" You plant a quick but loving kiss to his lips.

You instruct him where to sit, but surprisingly he needs no instructions on how to pose. He's a natural. You snap a few experimental shots before landing on the best one.

...

After a long show, all the boys rushed back into the green room. Josh running to the restroom and Jake plopping himself down on the couch. Danny takes a hold of his phone and turns on the song "Come On Eileen" by Dexys Midnight Runners. Him and Sam are beginning to run around the room, bouncing and spinning around to the beat. You stay sat in a velvet chair in the corner, much to Danny's disappointment when you don't stand up to join them. It's all in good fun though as the song picks up, the two best friends continue to dance even more lively and energetic around the small room. He’s banging his drum sticks against every appliance and table top in sight.

"Come on Y/N!" Danny encourages.

"I don't dance." You laugh in response.

"Don't be a party pooper! Join us!" Sam joins in.

"Hm.." you hum, picking up your camera as the last chorus begins to play. You snap a few shots of your boyfriend and his best friend having the time of their lives together, knowing they will both be grateful for that moment to be eternally captured. Neither of them even notice you there with the camera, but that's definitely for the better. The photos will turn out better that way anyway.

Right after the song comes to an end, Danny looks your way. You still have the camera raised, snapping some final shots.

"You didn't capture any of that...did you?"

"You bet I did." You nod as he steps closer.

"No!" He jokes, trying to take the camera from your hands. "Oh god, I probably look like a doofus in those!"

"You both do!" You smile and snap another photo while his hand is still reaching out for your camera. "That's okay though, you're having fun. Besides, they're for us only."

He approves, his cheeks turning a rosy shade of pink. "For us only." He smiles and pulls you in for a kiss.

...

You close the photo book with an exhale. You missed him so much, and you knew you were missing him too. His birthday was coming up soon too, and all you wanted was to be with him on his birthday. His most important day.

Almost as if it were on queue, your phone rang. It was Danny.

"My love?"

"Danny?” Hearing his voice alone felt like a warm embrace. You tried to call each other every night, which you were successful most nights. However, with the time difference and Wi-Fi not being available at all times, those plans did happen to fall through at times.

"Oh, Danny boy. I miss you so much." You are almost brought to tears at the sound of his voice, but you were able to blink them back.

"I miss you too, sweetheart." He tells you sincerely. "I'm having fun here, but I know I would be having even more fun with you by my side. You make everything better."

You sigh. "I could say the same thing."

"Listen, I'll be home soon enough."

"Danny- tour isn't over for another month-" you begin to speak but not before being cut off by him.

"I'll be there." He has a tone of surprise in his voice, like he's hiding something. And it's something big. Something good. "I have my ways."

"Baby-" You sit yourself down on your old worn out couch, your free hand resting between your thighs. You take in a deep breath. "You know how much I want to be with you on your birthday."

"I know. I know. Don't worry about it." Although you can't see him, you can practically hear how wide his smile is on the other line.

You go silent for a moment, your mind racing around thinking of what he could possibly be planning. "I could..I could book a flight to be with you. What city will you be in?"

"There will be no need for that." He giggles suspiciously.

You go silent once again. He's sure that he's making you worry, and that's the last thing he wants. The silence is loud enough as he takes a deep breath before starting up again.

"Wait for me to come home."

...

Daniel's birthday was tomorrow and you were beginning to lose all hope of seeing him on his most special day. You had a suspicion that he would surprise you for his birthday, however you had a sinking feeling he wasn't, not wanting to get your hopes up for nothing. Turns out that feeling was right after all.

Night time crept over you before you could even realize it. The streetlights were on and if he hadn't come home yet, he wasn't coming home at all. You sat at the kitchen table, mindlessly scrolling on your phone. You would do anything to distract you from how badly you missed your love.

You were in a deep rabbit hole on TikTok when you had received a text notification.

Danny: Come outside.

You: what?

You read his text over and over a few times before hearing a car pull into your driveway.

You slipped on your nearest pair of slippers and ran out the door. You hadn't showered in a few days or even changed your clothes for that matter, but you didn't care. All you cared about was Danny.

"Daniel?" You peered your head out onto the driveway as you noticed a figure begin to step out of a vehicle.

Danny.

"Oh my god! It's you! It's really you!" You exclaimed, running over to greet him.

"In the flesh, baby." He holds hims arms out, ready to envelop you in them for the first time in months.

His face was perfectly illuminated by the lamppost above you, which was the only source of light in sight.

You jump into his arms, not wasting another second to interlock your lips with his. The kiss was perfect. Even though you had shared many kisses with him before, this one felt so brand new.

"I love you so much. You think I wouldn't want to spend my birthday with you?!" He pulled out of the kiss with a beaming smile. "You have no idea how hard keeping this surprise from you was."

"I love you too." You run a hand through his hair and he does the same, not even caring that your hair is unwashed and a bit tangled. "Happy birthday, baby."

"Hey, you don't have to tell me that until tomorrow. I'll still be here then." He wraps his arms around you and leads you inside.

...

The next day was his birthday dinner. You had surprised him with dinner reservations at his favorite restaurant. You had managed to get them extremely last minute. It was only the two of you, it was very intimate. You would have the rest of the band and Danny’s family over for cake later tonight. The glow of the sunset beamed against his face in the most flawless way. He took a sip of his drink, before staring at you. His head rested in his hand as he set his glass back down. He examined your every detail of your beauty. No words were spoken, none needed to be.

You sat there for a few more moments before a light bulb went off in your head. You forgot you had brought your camera. You gasped and pulled the prized possession out of your purse. You lifted it to frame his face perfectly.

This was your and Danny’s thing, taking pictures. He knew what you were doing, so no words continued to be spoken as you snapped a picture of him, just sitting there, admiring you. He didn’t even need to adjust his position, he was already super photogenic and posed in the best way for you. It was so natural.

“Happy birthday, my love.”

[nats-bottom]

KJ - Drunk

Summary: Kelly Jones asks y/n questions about her work at NASA

Pairings: Kelly Jones x Reader

Warnings: Fly Me to the Moon spoilers, swearing, misogyny, bullying if you squint, lying

Notes: If you haven't seen Fly Me to the Moon, then I would wait until you see it, unless you don't care about spoilers! (or don't care about seeing it, but I highly recommend it! It's such a great movie!)

I also have accounts on Wattpad and AO3! The users there are @ paige_vers

Please give me requests! You can submit them here or on my insta, @ scarlettsoutset

ᨖᨖೱᨖ⧗ᨖⴵᨖ🕷️ᨖⴵᨖ⧗ᨖೱᨖᨖ

Y/N POV

Oh shit. There she is. That woman I said all those things to at the diner that night. If I knew that she would be fucking working with me, then I wouldn't have said all that. That was just meant for someone who I was never supposed to meet again. Some stranger. But here she is, walking towards me. She has a clipboard in her hands, and so does her assistant, or at least that's who I assume that is. 

I watch as they walk closer towards me, and I start to freeze. I stop what I'm doing and just stand there, looking at the two women. I drop my hands to my side and clench them into fists as I feel them start to get sweaty. 

"Well hello there. Y/n, was it?" She says as a smirk plays across her beautiful face. She stretches out her right hand towards me, putting the clipboard between her left arm and her stomach. I wipe my hands on my skirt, not wanting her to feel my nervousness through my sweaty hands. 

"Yes, and you're Kelly, right?" I say, reaching out my right hand and shaking hers. I feel a spark of sorts as I feel her soft, warm hands. I feel a bit embarrassed, knowing that my hands are dry from working on the rocket all day. Well, they are a little moist from all the sweat, but that doesn't help. 

"Can I ask you a few questions? This will only take a few minutes, since I can tell that you're a busy lady." She says with a wink. I just look at her, lost in her green eyes that could hold mine forever. She just stands there, waiting for an answer. "Y//n?"

I snap out of my trance, and reply, "Oh, uh what? Oh yeah sure." I say, finally realizing what she said. I roll my shoulders back, entering a more relaxed stance. 

"Ok so to start, how old are you?" Kelly asks. She picks up her clipboard, and so does her assistant.

"I'm 24."

"Write down 36." Kelly says to her assistant. She writes something down on her clipboard. Kelly reads out the next question, "And what made you want to work here?" She looks at me with a glimmer of hope in her eyes. Yet I know that I'm about to crush it.

"I saw a flier for it on the college dorm announcement board." I tell her the truth.

"Write something about how she wanted to be the first girl to space." Kelly says as she looks down at her clipboard for the next question.

"It's true." I say. Both women look up at me from their clipboards.

"Make sure you get all this." Kelly says to her assistant, this time a little more quietly. 

"Yeah. Ever since I heard of what NASA was trying to do, I always wanted to be the first woman in space. With the whole space race and everything, I thought it would be a great opportunity to be the first." I reminisce, looking between Kelly and her assistant, but mainly at Kelly. "I submitted my application to be an astronaut, because you have to apply before they even consider you, but I was denied. They said that they don't allow women because it might mess with their reproductive systems. (I really have no clue, I'm just making that part up). I heard that they just laughed when they had a girl apply for the program." I say sadly. If you were to look closely, you might even notice the tear starting to form in my eye.

"So then what did you do after that?" Kelly's assistant asks, completely engrossed in my story.

"So then I decided to go into engineering, and I saw the flier for NASA on the bulletin board in my college dorm. They had an internship for seniors, so I tried that out, loved it, and they kept me on as an employee. So that's how I ended up here." I say, with my arms out, gesturing to the place. Kelly's assistant scrambles down her notes, and Kelly just looks at me with wide eyes, her mouth gaping a little bit. I smirk at this; the fact that I amazed her makes me proud.

She clears her throat and straightens herself out. "Are you the only woman working here?"

"In this department, yes. In the office there are more. The guys try to send me in there as much as they can though, because 'that's my place.'" I say with air quotes. 

"Do you like working here though?" Kelly asks. 

"Yeah, I do." I let out a huff. "I try to ignore the guys as much as I can, all their teasing and such. But it's a good job. I quite enjoy it."

"That's good." Kelly says to me. "Did you get all that?" She asks her assistant, who nods, while writing something else down. "Will you go find someone else to interview please? I'll be over in a minute." Kelly says to her assistant.

"Yeah, I'll go ask those men over there." Her assistant says, pointing towards two of my coworkers. She walks over to them confidently, and starts some small talk with them.

"Hey I'm sorry about the other day, it was something meant for a stranger. Not someone I would see again. I'm really so-" I start to say.

"Stop it right there. You have nothing to be sorry for. I was actually hoping I could ask you out for a drink?" Kelly interrupts me.

"Oh, uh, yeah that'd be cool. I know a good bar not too far from here."

"Great. How about tonight at eight?" Kelly says.

"Sounds good." I grin at her. She hands me her clipboard and a pen, and I look at her with an unknowing look. 

"For the address." She assures me.

"Oh ok." I take the clipboard and write down the address and hand it back to her. She looks down at it and nods. 

"See you tonight!" Kelly says excitedly. She gives me a smile, then walks away to her assistant. I watch her hips sway back and forth as she walks away. Damn she's hot. 

I get back to work, the day dragging on as I wait for tonight's adventures.

[shephardofthedamned]

Lime green isn't always bad

“Green? Yer sure, Rookie?” Demo held up the hair dye to his face, squinting his one eye at the label.

You grinned, “Of course I’m sure, Tav! It’s not blue, so I won’t get in trouble. And it’s something new to red!”

“But lime green, lad?” Demo met your grin with one of his own, tossing the box over to you.

“It’s stylish, Tav!” You argued, pulling the box open with your teeth. You threw the contents of the box onto the bed, picking through the content to find the gloves.

“And yer doing this cause…” Demo drifted off, taking a sip of his lemonade. He grabbed one half of the pair of gloves, slipping it onto his dominant hand.

“Cause I’m not ‘noticeable enough’ on the battlefield,” You huff, pulling the other glove on, “Cause apparently it’s so hard to just heal all the moving red bits during battle.”

Demo grabbed the packet of hair dye & ripped it open with his teeth, squeezing it into a bowl, “Ye know him, lad. Doc’s too busy pocketing Heavy.” A spot of hair dye fell onto his moustache, unbeknownst to either him or you. You sat with your shirt off, short hair already bleached once. The bed would be a mess afterwards, you both knew, but Mann Co. didn’t pay you to clean the sheets. If anyone asked, Medic still had some bleach left in the infirmary.

“Out of all the ways tae make yerself more noticeable, why hair dye?” Demo applied the first gloop of purple hair dye. It immediately started soaking into your hair, & would probably leave your scalp green for days after.

“Pyro gave me the idea, actually. They were putting charcoal in Soldier’s hair while he was sleeping, & he went from a blond to a brunet like that,” You snap your fingers, & then have Demo grab your chin to stop you from moving more, “Unfortunately, the effects of being blond will stay with Solly forever.”

Demo snorts, “Ah, poor lad. Last I heard, doc’s tryin’ tae figure out a way to undo the lead poisoning. It’s going about as well as expected.” The applicator brush made a last few passes over your head, before it was tossed towards the bin. It flew out the window, instead, & a moment later a very grumpy, Sniper-like yell was heard from outside.

You wince, turning to Demo, “You meant that to happen?”

Demo chuckled nervously, “I definitely did, laddie.” The one glove was dropped into the bowl, & the bowl was dropped onto the table, as far away from the window as it was physically possible. You, with your head full of spiked up, purple hair, nudged Demo in the side, then smooched him on the cheek.

“Damn, we better barricade the door. Sniper’s gonna be here real soon.”

“If he says anythin’, we jus’ lie & say Scout did it.” Demo laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“Right, & we blame the pipsqueak for my weird hair as well!” You laughed.

“And if the BLUs say anythin’, lad, about hair dye bein’ fer girls or whatever, ye jus’ tell me,” Demo chuckled darkly, “I’ve been dying tae try out this new bomb type.”

You grin back, matching his dark chuckle, “Now I want them to insult me, just to watch you being all handsome & violent.”

“Ye got it, lad.”

“Hehe, did you just try to wink at me?”

“Maybe…”

“Hehe, oh my god, Tav. You're ridiculous!”

“Come on, Rookie!”

[iinexorabile]

CHARACTER TROPES:

RULES:  List five tropes applicable to your character, then tag others to do the same.(TvTropes)  REPOST! DO NOT REBLOG.

Tagged by: taken from myself. look at how scandalous i am Tagging: hey look i tagged u

Death Seeker: At some point in the past, some characters have had a traumatic experience, found themselves dishonored, committed a crime they could not repay, or lost everything worth living for. For whatever reason, rather than turning to suicide, they went off seeking battles to fight, hoping to find an enemy who would kill them, and achieve an honourable, heroic, or otherwise acceptable death. Martyrdom Cultures may regard such a character as a role model, even if upon closer examination he or she might seem like a Martyr Without a Cause. In cases of cruel Irony, Death Seeker characters who snap out of it and find something to live for often end up dying or getting killed shortly afterwards anyway.

“Character wishes to die but can’t simply kill themselves.“

Power at a Price: Power. The ability to influence, create, change, and even destroy things, places, people. It is by nature highly contentious: Some want it and would kill for it, others do not want it, or would gladly give away such a burden. Therein lies the rub. For all its force, blessings, or ability to change, power is not free… of responsibility, consequence, or cost. Some people think the exchange has to be “fair.” Be Careful What You Wish For....

“All power demands sacrifice.“

The Grim Reaper: The mascot of death. The nature and purpose of the Grim Reaper (also simply known as "Death") varies between two different versions: one version describes him as a simple guide — the supernatural being who takes people to the afterlife when they die; another version sees him as the entity of death. As with most folklore-ish characters, he has many and diverse characterizations. He may be sinister or come across as friendly. Still, other representations of death forgo the neutral guise and make Death a God of Evil that must be fought. The Reaper sometimes overlaps or is influenced by the Angel of Death of Biblical scripture, in which case he may explicitly be equated with the Archangel Azrael.

“And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him..”

Stepford Smiler (Depressed): This character makes it a point to project an image of wholesome happiness in front of their peers.  Their flawlessly crafted facade hides the real person that’s usually troubled on the inside, in order to keep up the deception. The character seems to be happy, cheerful, is always smiling and seems to live a perfect life - but inside they are melancholic, if not outright depressed. 

“ Happy on the outside. Unhappy on the inside. “

Resurrective Immortality:  Characters with Resurrective Immortality can die just like anyone else. The thing is, they will not stay dead. When killed, they will always return to life and look none the worse for wear. This is not necessarily due to a regenerative capability, though this sometimes also applies. On the plus side, this means that Death Is Cheap. Any enemies they have will never be able to kill them. On the negative side, this could be a Fate Worse than Death.

“This person can be killed — but they’ll just come straight back to life.”

Honorable mentions: Sinister Scythe, Pun, Beneath The Mask, An Axe To Grind, Who Wants to Live Forever?, My Greatest Failure, Purple is Powerful, Super Strength, Deal With the Devil, Sad Clown, Gallows Humour, Why Won’t You Die? , Immortality Hurts, Sacrificial Lamb, Heroic Sacrifice

[flareish]

The Bet

bokuto x reader

summary: Bokuto makes a bet with himself where you end up dying his hair

genre: fluff

warning: swearing, a couple suggestive remarks, quick kiss

word count: 1.3k

a/n: so apparently no one nows what Bokuto’s natural hair color is so I’m assuming its his root color and that he does dye his hair. I’m basing this all off the one time coach ukai called bokuto “frosted tips” 

“Hey y/n! Watch this!” Bokuto calls out to you where you are sitting on the bleachers watching practice. You look up and he continues.

“If I make this spike you have to dye my hair.” Bokuto has already decided you've already agreed.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea-“ Bokuto signals to his team mates to get get ready.

“Don’t worry I got this.” Wasn’t what you were worried about.

“I’ve never dyed hair before-“ His teammates are laughing so hard they can barely jump.

“Ready!” Bokuto jumps up and spikes the ball. His teammates barely get off the ground and he spikes it with ease. You're not sure if it's because they want to see the aftermath of you dying his hair or because they were too busy laughing to even try.

“Feel free to do your worst,” Akaashi walks up to you, “it will be more entertaining if it comes out botched. Might teach him something too.”

“You might think it’s funny but I’ll never hear the end of it.” You grumble, knowing that every argument from then on it would be brought up.

“Why you date him, the world will never know.” Akaashi says jokingly as he walks away.

“Have you seen his ass?” You yell back laughing. Akaashi rolls his eyes but can’t deny it.

“You better be talking about my ass!” Bokuto yells from across the court.

“You bet.” You smirk at him and he bounces his eyebrows suggestively at you.

The two of you are now in his bathroom. Practice is long over and now you must complete Bokuto’s bet. Maybe demand would be a better term.

“You are aware I have never dyed hair before, right?” You ask him as he boosts himself onto the counter top.

“Yeah but it's not that hard,” He says dismissively, “besides I’m here to walk you through it.” You were pretty sure it was hard. I mean have you seen how many failed hair dying videos there are. You were also worried about how helpful Bokuto’s help would actually be. You’ve seen him explain things purely in noises. 

“Alrighty mix up a bit of this, with some of that in this bowl.” He points the stuff out to you and you go to work. 

“What is it?” You ask as you begin mixing.

“The powder is bleach and the bottle has developer in it,” He explains, “Since my natural hair is pretty dark I can’t just dye it otherwise it won’t show up, so this lightens it.”

“Oh you know a lot about this.” You say 

“Well I do this everytime my hair grows,” He passes you something, “Here this is an applicator, just brush the bleach on the ends of my hair.” You stir around the bleach mixture and get a good amount of product on the applicator.

“Isn’t there supposed to be a cap and a hook thing that you pull your hair through?” You question, having seen a video using one. You step over in between his legs and begin applying product. He has to tilt his head down because he’s so damn tall.

“What do we look like? Professionals?” Bokuto laughs at the idea. 

“There was one in the kit but it takes forever so I threw it out,” He says, “I’m better than it anyway.”

“Oh yeah of course you are.” You say sarcastically.

“Woah was that sarcasm.” He says lifting his head to pick a fight. You play fight often over simple stuff, all lighthearted of course. You’re both argumentative people, it’s your love language. Besides from touch cause this boy in handsy.

“You sure you want to pick a fight right now,” You point the applicator at him threateningly, “It’s your hair on the line here.” He gasps at you in offense.

“You wouldn’t.” He playfully glares at you.

“I already got permission to screw your hair up. I wouldn’t push me.” You would never actually on purpose but boy is it tempting sometimes.

“By who!” Bokuto now more interested in who betrayed him. You push in his head back down and continue working. 

“It was Akaashi wasn’t it.” He grumbles.

“Maybe, maybe not,” you mumble, “There last piece.” You take a step back to admire your work.

“Woah done already?” He hops off the counter and looks in the mirror.

“Looks good.” He says and ducks downs to kiss your lips. Its quick and sweet.

You manage to wait the twenty-so minutes for the bleach to do its thing without getting too much product everywhere. You sit on the counter when he goes in the shower to wash out the bleach. His phone dings and you see he got a snapchat from Kuroo. You open it to see Kuroo sending a shirtless selfie.

“Babe why does Kuroo send you mirror pics?” You ask giggling. His head pops out the shower. 

“Wait let me see!” You turn the phone around so he can see before the timer runs out. 

“Damn he’s fine.” Bokuto says before ducking back into the shower. “Geez just date him already.” You joke. Snapping a quick selfie, you reply to Kuroo telling him to stop stealing your man. He comes back and tells you that you’re welcome to join as well. You roll your eyes and tell him that he may change his mind after your potentially botched dye job makes him go bald. You continue back and forth with Kuroo until Bokuto comes out the shower. 

“Ready for round two.” He winks at you suggestively.

“You know it.” You hop off the counter and he takes your place.

“Now its time for the dye,” He says grabbing a couple bottles and pouring them into a new mixing bowl, “Okay now apply this to where you just bleached.” You repeat the previous process. As you go you feel some wandering hands on you.

“Are you bored already.” You ask.

“Usually I do it so I’m busy focusing but now I’m just sitting here it feels so long.” He explains.

“I’m almost done,” You scoop up the last of the product from the mixing bowl, “and done!”

“Just have to wait another twenty minutes.” He mumbles playing with your hair.

“We should dye your hair,” He says excitedly, “Then we could match!”

“No way.” You say laughing. 

Twenty minutes later and your back in the same position. Him showering and you sat on the counter. You two just talk about your days and anything else that comes up. 

“Ooh I should order food for after,” You say grabbing your phone, “What do you want?” 

“I’ve been craving a burger all day.” He says happy with that idea.

“Burgers it is.” You leave the bathroom to make a phone call for a delivery, already knowing his order. When you come back into the bathroom and Bokuto is out and drying his hair. You come up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist.

“Hey there.” He says over the noise of the hair dryer. He passes it to you, wordlessly asking you to do it. You have to push up onto you tippy toes but you manage. You run your fingers through his hair trying to get all of it dried. When it all looks dry you set the hair dryer down and try and spike it up a bit. 

“It looks pretty good,” He compliments your work, “Not a good as when I do it though.” You smack his chest and leave for his bedroom, but you were pretty happy about his compliment. He comes up behind you and throws you onto the bed. You laugh at the sudden movement as he pounces on you. He rolls the two of you over so you are on top and lets you snuggle into his side. 

You don’t mind how you spend your evenings as long as it is with him. 

[watchmegetobsessed]

Our song - Harry Styles

this one was inspired by the jingleball performance bc it was pure perfection and UGHH im obsessed.

dedicated to my dear friend @dontworrysunflower

disclaimer: the song Homesick by Dua Lipa is featured in this fic as an original work of Harry and the reader, but it’s obviously an existing song, I just thought that it would be the song they write

pairing: Harry x vocalist!reader

word count: 5.3k

masterlist

You’ve felt the adrenaline rush take over your body many times in your life and they were all different in some kind of way. The one you felt when you were about to write an important test in school, the one that bubbled through your veins when you got your first kiss. The one that rolled through your limbs and chest when you first performed in front of people that weren’t your parents and the one you felt when you got the news that you were chosen to tour with none other than Harry Styles as his vocalist, singing on his stage every other night in a different city and different country.

But none of those were anything like the feeling that takes over every time you stand on that stage, your microphone that’s labelled with your name right in front of you as thousands of people are screaming in the jam-packed arena. Though it’s not you they come to see and listen to, but you are part of the magic and it’s quite enough for you.

You could never be the one standing at the front with all the lights shining down on your frame, having every gaze in the place glued to you, listening to your voice. That brings the kind of anxiety you’re quite sure you wouldn’t be able to handle. You are perfectly fine standing in the back, being the support system while staying on the down-low as someone else shines at the front, in your case, it’s Harry.

You applied for the job with a reason, already having a huge appreciation for him as an artist, adoring his work so far, especially Fine Line. Upon hearing about the opportunity to be part of his tour, you didn’t hesitate to send your application in and following three auditions, you got the phone call that they wanted you on board.

He swept you right off your feet the first time you met him, but you didn’t expect less from him. Everything you heard about him being the most wonderful person to every walk the planet were proven to be nothing but the truth. You hit it off so easily and become close through the process of rehearsals. His odd little jokes, that funny laugh of his and the way he always peeks over his shoulder to meet his eyes with yours made you fall for him faster than you’d have ever thought you could.

Just as fast as your feeling for Harry developed, tour caught up on you and before you could blink twice, you were living on the road, always dressing from your suitcase, waking up in a different city every other morning.

The foreign studio feels a little odd, but still somehow familiar as you walk in with your water and notebook under your arm. Random studio sessions with Harry became a regular not long after tour kicked off. Harry’s creative juices were overflowing and he was aching to record his creations, constantly renting random studios near the hotel you lot were staying currently and one night, when some of you all were hanging out in his suit, he asked if you’d be down helping him record vocals for a song he’s been working on.

“I want to hear it with your voice instead of mine,” he told you leaning against the wall, a glass of whatever Mitch mixed him in his hands.

“Getting bored of your own voice?” you teased him, bringing his dimples out with the smile that plastered across his lips.

“Could say that. Are you up for it?”

There was no way you would have said no. So the next morning you found yourself in a studio somewhere in Sacramento, singing the vocals to a song no one else has heard other than you and Harry.

The tour has now reached Denver, you can’t wait to be on the stage tonight, but before that, you are having another quick session with Harry in the studio.

When you walk in, his head perks up from his leather notebook he always keeps on himself, filled with his scribbled lyrics. A smile stretches across his lips when his green eyes fall on your frame.

“Hey! Hope it’s not too early for you,” he softly says standing up from the chair as you put your stuff down to the small table in the corner.

“No, managed to get a good night sleep still,” you smile at him, taking a quick look around, though this recording room is just like the others you’ve been in.

“I think I figured out that part we struggled with last time. Changed up the ending a bit, would you mind giving it another go?”

You nod looking down at his notes, seeing the changes he has made in the vocals.

“Changed anything else?” you ask as you watch him get ready for the recording.

“Yeah, rewrote a few lines, think they are fitting better now.”

“Have you recorded them yet?”

“Will do now,” he tells you shaking his head.

Soon enough you find yourself standing behind the mic, headset covering your ears as you are waiting for Harry to start recording and the music to play in your ears. Once he shows up his thumb you do the same and a moment later the song you’ve heard last time you two were working starts flowing from the headset and you stare down at the notes in front of you, waiting for the moment when you have to start singing.

It takes you a few runs to nail it down, but when you finally do, you can see the satisfied grin on Harry’s face and you think to yourself that there’s nothing you wouldn’t do to make him like this anytime.

“That was fantastic,” he beams once you join him at the screens where you see your voice appear as a pattern over a straight line. Harry does his usual magic before leaving it be. “Mind assisting recording my part?” he asks turning to you with an excited smile.

Nodding you let him tell you what to do and once he is all set behind the mic, you start the recording and the song. You listen to him in awe. There hasn’t been a moment when you didn’t feel the shiver running down your spine when he started singing. You are convinced a choir of angels is hidden in his throat, because it’s hard to believe he is just as human as everyone else.

He sings the whole song three times before he joins you again, listening back to what you have so far. The song is coming along pretty well and you can tell by the time he finishes it, it’s gonna be perfect. Everything he does is just pure perfection, whether he likes to admit it or not.

“You know how it would be absolutely perfect?” he asks you on your way back to the hotel. The two of you grabbed a coffee as well, so now you’re sipping on the hot drink, enjoying the somewhat sunny weather.

“Hm?”

“I think it would be best if a female voice sang the whole thing and the male was just the vocal.”

“Who do you think would fit best for it then?” you ask, immediately thinking of singers that could be perfect for the song. It wouldn’t be the first time Harry would sell a song to someone else, so you’re not surprised he is thinking about this kind of change.

“Y/N, I found the voice already,” he chuckles and you give him a puzzled look. “You. You are singing the song, I don’t need anyone else.”

“I’m not a solo singer,” you protest.

“There’s no such thing as solo or not solo. You’re a singer and a bloody good one. I want you to sing it.”

“But it would go to waste, because I would never actually perform it.”

“How are you so sure about that?” he smirks slyly at you, immediately making you nervous.

“Harry, I don’t sing solo,” you shake your head stubbornly, but he rolls his eyes at you.

“You could just try it. Let’s just record the song next time with you in the lead and then we can talk about the rest.”

“I’m fine recording, but I will never perform it,” you tell him, but his look makes you think he has other plans.

When tour reaches Dallas, the song gets a version with you singing solo and Harry doing the vocals in it. And though you had doubts about the switch, listening back to it you can tell how much it helped. It really is better with a female voice, though you are still convinced it shouldn’t be you.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sell it to someone? I’m fine with that,” you ask him before the show in Dallas. You’re sitting on the table in his dressing room while he is painting his nails, his tongue poking out in concentration.

“I told you, I like it with your voice. Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because I’m not a—“

“Fuck’s sake if you dare to tell me one more time that you’re not a solo singer, I’m firing you, Y/N!” he snaps, giving you a hard look, but you just laugh at his temper.

“It’s the truth.”

“Have you ever tried to go solo?”

“Not for years,” you admit and watch him screw the nail polish closed, pushing it aside, his hands lying flat on the table as he is carefully waiting for them to dry.

“So then how do you know you are no good at it?”

“Because I hated it back then, so I most likely would hate it now as well,” you state matter-of-factly, but Harry doesn’t seem amused by your answer.

“So you think you haven’t changed a bit in years? I hope you know that’s absolute bollocks.”

“Why are you so keen on making me sing solo?” you sigh, giving him a tired look. It feels like the two of you have been running the same circles since forever. It’s not his first attempt to get you sing more than just the vocals, he once wanted to do a cover and needed a partner because it was a duet and begged you for weeks to sing with him, but you didn’t give in. You just couldn’t.

“Because I think that you are a talented singer and I want you to feel the adrenaline rush performing gives you.”

“I do get that rush every time I sing behind you. That’s enough for me.”

Harry shakes his head pressing his lips tight together.

“That’s not the same as being in the lead. It’s a whole different world.”

“Yeah, one that makes me shit my pants,” you chuckle and he can’t push a smile back.

“Maybe we should just work on it. Your anxiety. I think we could actually make you feel better if we tried.”

“I still don’t know where this obsession with me being solo comes for you.”

Harry stands up, takes one last look at his nails before he steps closer smiling down at you softly and you bite into your bottom lip, realizing how close he is standing to you. His fingers tap in your cheek gently, running them down to your chin as he tilts your head up a bit.

“Just accept it, Love,” he smiles softly before stepping away and carrying on with his routine.

That evening, you stand at the back with the other two vocalists, eyes glued to Harry’s figure at the front of the stage, you watch him pour his soul out to the audience, interact with them and reach that state of mind you have never been able to get into. You know what he told you about performing is true, yet you are still terrified to do it yourself. It’s too nerve wrecking to have everyone look at and listen to you, so many chances to mess it up and make a fool out of yourself.

But when Harry’s eyes meet yours and he shoots you a warm smile, something shifts in you. The urge to have this connection with not just the audience and the song, but with him takes over your whole body and you make up your mind to at least give it a try.

Harry is ecstatic when you tell him later that night that you changed your mind. You see that sparkle in his eyes and it was already worth for you, just seeing him react like that.

“Though I have a few suggestions to change the lyrics.”

“You do?” he asks, seemingly surprised, but mostly amused that you had the balls to come out with it.

“Yeah. Just some tiny details.”

“Why haven’t you told me about these before?”

“Because it was your song. But if you want me to sing it, it has to be mine as well.” Harry stares back at you with a smile that’s filled with pride and joy, making your heart flutter in your aching chest as you think about performing solo.

“Our song,” he softly says nodding his head.

Arriving to Houston the two of you are quick to book a studio and work on the song. Harry lets you make any changes you desire on the lyrics, even says you did justice to it and that you should have spoken up earlier about your ideas. And then you record it.

It’s not that you have to sing the whole song and not just the vocals this time. You are completely fine with Harry hearing you sing, it’s the thought of performing it in front of anyone that’s not him, that’s what makes you turn into a wreck.

You record Harry’s vocals and once it’s all put together, you are blown by the outcome. You wouldn’t have thought Harry’s voice as the vocal would compliment you in the lead, but it’s just absolutely perfect and even you can’t find anything wrong with it.

“Love, this is what Heaven sounds like, I’m telling you,” he smirks at you from the chair beside you, playing the song for the tenth time, not able to get enough of the final product.

“You are so cheesy,” you shake your head, but feel the blush heating up your cheeks. His eyes linger on you a little longer before he turns back to the screen.

When the song is over he finally stops is so silence comes over the studio. Harry turns back to face you, his green eyes basically burning a hole into your head.

“So, when are we going to perform it?”

“I really don’t think it’s a good idea,” you sigh looking down at your hands fumbling with your shirt.

“And I do think it is. So I’m not stopping until you at least try it.”

Harry Styles gets what he wants. Always. And this time, no matter how hard you try to resist him, you just can’t deny this from him. Though it takes him time to talk you up, in Washington he finally gets you to give it a try in an empty stadium.

Most of the crew is out, since the building has been finished about half an hour before, so everything is perfectly set for tonight’s show when you walk out to the stage, following Harry in his heels. He asked the piano to be brought to the front along with a mic on it and another one on a stand next to it. The two of you quietly put on your earpieces, doing everything as if it was a usual occasion before a concert, only that this time the roles will be entirely switched.

“It’s fine, alright? No one is around,” he tells you when he sees how nervous you are to sing the song for the first time outside a studio.

“There are some backstage,” you mumble under your breath, not expecting him to do anything about it.

But he does. You watch him walk backstage, completely dumbfounded about what he is doing. He disappears from your sight and a few moments later you hear him shouting at the back.

“No one comes to the stage until I say so! Yea? Thanks!” he orders and then walks back as if he didn’t just boss around the whole crew.

“They will think you’re some kind of crazy celebrity,” you chuckle when he returns, a small smirk playing on his pink lips.

“Don’t care, Darling. Now sing you heart out for me.”

Harry sits on the piano bench, his fingers getting settled on the keys before he looks up to meet your anxious eyes.

“It’s alright. Just you and me, yea?”

Nodding you gulp hard and jump a little when he starts playing the melody the two of you have been working on for so long. You hear all the notes and you know you have to start singing, but you miss the opening. Harry stops and looks at you, as you move your eyes down to the ground, ashamed you messed up immediately.

“S-Sorry, I just—“

“How can I help?” he asks right away, not even caring about the fact that you messed up, focused on figuring out a way that would help you.

“I don’t know. I really don’t,” you sigh, feeling your nerves getting worse with each passing moment.

“Come sit next to me,” he then tells you motioning for you to join him on the bench.

“What?”

“Take your mic and sit next to me,” he repeats, scooting over to make you space. Hesitantly, you pull the mic out of the stand and walking over you sit next to him. “Now you are not in the center. Just listen to the music, watch my hands on the keys, okay?”

You nod, running your tongue over your dry lips as you hold the mic to your mouth before Harry starts playing again.

After the first few notes you close your eyes and when it’s time for you to start singing, Harry leans a little against you, giving you a kind of push to just do it. And it works.

It feels a little as if it’s not even you who starts singing, but it is. Your voice fills the empty arena along with the piano’s melody and keeping your eyes closed a little longer you let your mind settle. When the first verse ends you open them and watch his hands work on the keys, right as he starts singing the vocals, leaning a little forward so his voice reaches his mic.

It’s different. It’s electric and freeing, hear your voice through the massive speakers, to be in the lead and have Harry be just the support in the song. But it feels so right, better than anything you’ve ever felt.

Line after line, you hit all the notes and by the end of the song you are able to strip all your fears down and give yourself over to the music completely. As you sing the last few notes you feel Harry’s eyes on you and turning to face him, you are met with his warm, pride-filled smile and bright eyes, glued to you while his fingers press down the last notes.

The music dies down, the voice of the piano vibrates in the air a little longer until it completely disappears and the silence returns into the stadium.

“Love,” Harry quietly calls out for you and you turn completely towards him. “That was absolutely perfect.”

“You think so?” you ask, voice barely more than just a whisper, your eyes never leaving his gaze.

“I know so,” he huffs, smile widening. He brings an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into a hug, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead as you let out a breath you’ve been holding in for way too long.

He doesn’t try to make you perform that evening, knowing well it was enough for one day, but he does make you sing it with him in each city in the upcoming weeks. Before every concert, he empties out the area around the stage and the two of you sit down at the piano, singing your song until you feel comfortable enough to stand next to the instrument instead of sitting next to him.

The tour reaches New York and Madison Square Garden is getting ready to host Harry Styles for two evenings. The place is massive and you find yourself sitting at the edge of the stage when Harry emerges from backstage.

“Looks wild, right?” he asks sitting next to you, his thigh brushing against yours as he gets seated.

“Yeah. Pretty amazing.”

“This place has the most magical vibe.” “Yeah?” Turning to him you watch him take the arena in, his eyes glistening at the sight in front of him. You know it’s not his first time performing here, but it’s nice to see the excitement in his eyes regardless.

That feeling returns to your chest, the one you felt when Harry told you he wanted you to sing the song. The urge to be part of this amazing something that’s so much bigger than you.

“H?”

“Yea?” he turns to you smiling.

“Can I… Do you think we could sing our song tonight?”

You watch the pure surprise and excitement wash over his face, his smile stretching across his face as he stares back at you in awe.

“You want to sing it?”

Shyly, you nod your head and in a heartbeat his arms lock around you, pulling you into the tightest hug. The two of you almost fall off the stage, laughing together at his dramatic reaction.

“Of course we can sing it, Love. Would be an honor!”

Harry is quick to let the band know about the addition for tonight’s set and though everyone seems surprised, they are all supportive about your solo. As the time goes and the concert gets closer, you can feel the nerves building up and soon enough, you start to doubt your choice to sing the song tonight.

Right before it’s time to go on stage Harry takes your hand and pulls you aside, taking your face in his hands gently, making you look into his eyes.

“I know you are doubting yourself, but just know that I’m very proud of you, even if you decide to not sing the last minute.”

“I could do that?” you whisper, your hands finding his sides and you let them rest on him, a way to ground yourself in the windwhirl of your thoughts.

“Of course. I wouldn’t want to make you do something you don’t really want. Though I know you will be amazing if you choose to sing.”

Nodding you let a weak smile appear on your lips and you notice as his eyes flicker down to them before he moves his gaze up to your eyes. He then pulls you into a proper hug before walking back to the rest of the band and vocalists.

Everything goes as usual and once again, you can’t take your eyes off Harry on the stage. Just watching him perform fills you up with life, enough to keep you from running away. About halfway into the set, as the crowd is still cheering after the previous song, Harry jogs over to you.

“You ready?” he asks over the noise and before you could think about it, you nod your head.

Two guys from the crew pushes the piano further to the front and they help to set everything up as you awkwardly stand at the side. Once your mic is in the stand you walk over there, heart hammering in your chest, hands shaking like crazy.

“I have a special song for you tonight,” Harry announces into the microphone as he makes his way over to the piano. “Please welcome the lovely Y/N here, who is gonna enchant you with a song we’ve been working on lately.”

The crowd screams and you allow yourself to look around with a weak smile. So many people, you think to yourself, everyone watching you.

“It’s called Homesick, and it means so much to us, so we hope you’ll like it Justas much as we do,” Harry adds before settling on the bench and his eyes find yours. “I’m proud of you,” you see him say, only able to read his lips since the crowd is screaming so loud. “Ready?” he asks and you nod, taking a shaky breath.

He sends you a warm comforting smile before glancing down at the keys and then he starts playing. 

Just like the first time, you close your eyes, forcing yourself to focus on the melody and nothing else. The lump in your throat is quite uncomfortable, but you open your eyes and see that Harry is looking straight at you, nodding in encouragement, as his fingers push down the keys to the notes right before you have to start.

“Here, where the sky’s falling, I’m covered in blue, I’m running and I’m crawling, fighting for you…”

Harry smiles wide when your voice flows through the speakers, filling the whole place, making everyone go quiet in a heartbeat as the song carries on. You feel your chest slowly deflating, the nerves cooling down with each sung note.

“You give me a reason, something to believe in, I know, I know, I know. You give me a meaning, something I can breathe in, I know, I know, I know…”

The chorus comes out perfect, your voice melting together with the piano and you finally feel your muscles relax as you slowly let go of every toxic thought that’s been tainting your mind. Harry leans closer to his microphone and his voice gently joins yours in the next verse.

“There’s a crack in my window, a bird in my room, angels all over that watch over you…”

Chills run down your spine hearing his voice, your eyes never leaving his gaze that’s fixated on your standing figure. You get lost in him and the song, something that came from the both of you, a piece of you and him. Standing there, singing this piece makes you feel closer to him than ever and you desperately want this feeling to last forever, hoping the song never ends though you know it’s gonna happen.

“When I’m walking on water all my dreams have come true. Still nothing means nothing without you…”

Homesick is exactly the feeling that bubbles inside you when you think of Harry. Because there’s this man you love so much, who is a home away from home to you, yet you still feel like you can’t be home entirely. Not in the way you’d want to. But standing on the stage in the spotlight, singing together with him as thousands of people are watching the two of you, yet you still manage to forget about them, for a moment, you feel like you finally arrived home. You are there, with him.

“Tell my heart to lie, but I know deep inside it’s true. That I wish I was there with you. That I wish I was there with you, oh I wish I was there with you.”

He plays the end of the song without tearing his eyes away from you, and there’s just a heartbeat of silence before the crowd starts screaming deafeningly, but that short moment… is yours and his.

Tugging your hair behind your ears with your shaky hands, your eardrums on the verge of breaking as you let out a laugh that was kind of a sob as well, relief washing over your body. Harry is quick to jump to his feet and rushing over he envelopes you in a tight hug.

“I’m so so so proud of you, Love. You were everything!” he mumbles, arms holding you so tight you almost lose your breath, but you want him this close, or even closer. You need to feel him, because it doesn’t feel real. His hold brings you a sense of existence only he can give you.

“Thank you, Harry,” you breathe out when he pulls back to look into your eyes, the screaming hasn’t died down even a tad little.

“No, thank you, Darling. You shined like the star that you are,” he grins, playing a sloppy kiss to your cheek before his arms fall off you.

You’d die to stay in this moment a little longer, but the show must go on. The crew pushes the piano back and soon enough, the next song starts. You stay in your spot for the rest, but you keep catching Harry smiling in your way, always making you blush.

The end of a concert is always a little hectic, everyone is all over the place. Still coming off the high you just experienced, you head to the dressing room you share with the other vocalists. They are going on and on about how amazing Homesick was, and you somehow still can’t believe tonight happened. Packing your stuff you barely notice that the door flies open, but you see Harry appear from the corner of your eye.

“Ladies, would you please give me a moment with Y/N?” he asks and the girls are quick to leave the two of you alone. You stand there, kind of dumbfounded, not sure why he is acting so dramatic. Once the door closes and it’s just you and him, he stares at you, chest heaving, his hair wet from his sweat, but he still looks breathtaking.

“Harry—“

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” he cuts you off, your breath gets caught in your throat as you stare back at him, completely frozen. Opposite to what he just said, he remains standing in the same spot and you’re not sure what’s happening. “Can I? Please say yes, I can’t hold myself back for any longer,” he then adds.

“Yes,” you breathe out without even thinking about it. In a heartbeat, Harry crosses the room, chest smashing against yours as he wraps his arms around you, lips crashing onto yours in a kiss that almost makes you moan into his mouth.

It’s all a hot mess, teeth clashing, hands all over each other before his palms run down to the back of your thighs, urging you to jump. When you do, you wrap your legs around his waist and let him walk over to the table nearby, so he can place you on top, standing between your thighs as he keeps kissing you hungrily, his tongue melting together with yours in this sweet chaos. It keeps going on and on, neither of you wanting to let go of the other, but you are eventually forced to stop, coming short of air. Panting wildly, lips swollen from his kisses, you look at him to meet his gaze.

“You have no idea how hard it was to stop myself from kissing you on stage.”

“What?” you breathe out.

“Y/N, I’m fucking crazy about you and seeing you come over your stage fright, sing that song… our song, fuck, that did some unbelievable things to me. Please tell me you felt the same thing!” He is begging, not just with his words, but with his eyes as well and it crushes your soul entirely.

“I did. Harry, I always do when I’m with you.”

“Fucking Hell,” he breathes out before kissing you again. “You are… everything, Love,” he mumbles against your lips and you can’t push down the smile stretching across your face, hearing him say the same words he said right after the song.

“You’ve told me that,” you tease him, his gaze meeting yours as he flashes you his famous half-smirk, heart fluttering at the sight of him.

[imagine-a-life-like-this]

Roommates (K.NJ)

Warnings : mentions of drinking, partying, swearing, mentions of sex

Synopsis : unable to afford rent alone, she looks for a roommate. he’s perfect on paper, but seems to avoid her in person. after their friend groups mix for a night out, she finds out he finds her beautiful. she never expected to befriend him, nor did she expect to fall for her handsome roommate.

Word Count : 3281

After graduating university, I moved into a 3-bedroom duplex, sure with my new job I could afford it by myself. But after a few months, I found myself struggling to keep up with bills and rent and soon put out an ad for a roommate. I’d prefer to live with another girl, but after meeting all the girls that applied, I decided to expand my search to include guys as well.

           Kim Namjoon seemed like the perfect applicant on paper and seemed fairly decent when he came to check out the place. He didn’t ask any questions, calmed all the concerns I had about living with a stranger, and met all my expectations for a roommate. He seemed to be the obvious choice, so he moved in a couple days later.

           I didn’t expect to become friends with the guy as the two of us were quite different, but I didn’t expect him to completely avoid me either. He kept to himself, either leaving the place for days at a time, or staying in his room, only leaving to get food and use the washroom. At first it was nice; I was worried about him making any unwanted advances and it really calmed all my anxieties. But after a while, it seemed like he was avoiding me like the plague. I tried to talk to him a few times, but he would shrug it off and ignore my existence.

           “How’s living with a stranger?” My best friend, Jimin, asked when he came for a visit a couple months after Namjoon moved in. “Have you guys hooked up yet?” I choked on my drink, completely taken back by his question.

           “God no! I’ve tried being friendly, but the man avoids me like I don’t even exist!” I said after I caught my breath from my coughing fit. “I guess I don’t mind it though. It’s almost like I still live alone, just with extra money.” The front door slammed open soon after I said that and Namjoon came stomping in with the angriest look on his face. He paused when he entered the living room and saw Jimin sitting beside me on the couch.

           “If you two are going to fuck later, keep it down. I’m going to bed.” Before either of us could say anything, Namjoon stormed up the stairs and slammed his bedroom door.

           “Who pissed in his cornflakes?” Jimin asked, his eyes wide as he looked in the direction of the stairs Namjoon just stormed up.

           “Who goes to bed at 3 in the afternoon?” I stared at the time on my phone with my brows furrowed together, wondering if something happened while he was gone.

           “You’re sure he isn’t some criminal?” Jimin jokingly asked and I playfully slapped his arm and giggled. But I really didn’t know what he did for a living. He pays rent on time and helps with the bills, so I never really questioned anything. “Jin is wondering if you’re coming out with us tonight.” Jimin was typing away at his phone, most likely texting Jin, asking what the plan was.

           “Yeah, I have tomorrow off so why not.” Jimin nodded and continued to text Jin. “Who’s all going?”

           “All I know for sure is me, you, Jin and Taehyung. Jin said he invited someone from his work who might come and bring his friends too, so I’m not too sure.” I nodded.

           “I hope the guy he invited from work is Hoseok. I met him a couple times and he’s super fun! And really hot.” Jimin laughed and shook his head at me. “What? I can appreciate his beauty!”

           “I never said you couldn’t. You just haven’t shown interest in anyone since Jackson.” I rolled my eyes.

           “First, we promised never to bring him up. Second, I’m not interested in Hoseok, I just think he’s attractive.” Jimin held his hands up in surrender before getting up to leave.

           “I’m going to go meet up with Jin for a while. I’ll see you tonight.”

           After Jimin left, I decided to get ready so whenever they decided to show up, I wouldn’t be holding us back from our night out. Jin always complained about how long it took me to get ready, as if he didn’t also take forever.

           After showering and doing my hair and makeup, I was left with deciding what to wear. I had a couple outfit choices laid out on my bed. I kept picking them up and holding them up to myself while looking in the mirror, but I just couldn’t decide. I was just about to call Jimin when I heard a knock at my bedroom door. I threw the two dresses I had in my hands onto my bed and went to open my door, expecting either Jimin or Taehyung to be on the other side, but was surprised to see Namjoon standing there, holding two coffees.

           “I wanted to apologize for earlier. I had a bad day and took it out on you and your boyfriend.” He handed one of the coffees to me. I looked down at the drink and then up at him. “Oh uh, they messed up my drink and gave me one for free. Figured you’d like it.” He quickly said, and I didn’t let it slip that the two coffees were obviously very different. The one in his hand was hot, whereas the one he handed me was iced. I just smiled and thanked him. “The long-sleeved black dress would look good on you. Go with that one.” He said before I could shut my door and then quickly walked away before I could ask what he meant. I looked at the different dresses on my bed and smiled to myself when it put it together. And he wasn’t wrong.

           “Hey, you sexy motherfucker, worldwide handsome has arrived!” I heard from downstairs as I was putting the final touches on my outfit. I rolled my eyes at the dumb nickname Jin gave himself and quickly opened my bedroom door to head out. Namjoon was heading back to his room from the bathroom, and I asked if he wanted to come with.

           “My friends and I already have plans.” I nodded and told him to have a good night and rushed down the stairs.

           “Damn girl, where have you been hiding this!” Jin gushed when he saw me. I playfully slapped him as I slid on a pair of strappy black heels to go with my dress. It was really a thin strapped crop top and a skirt, with a long-sleeved sparkly mesh dress on top that really showed off all my curves, and my legs. Just as we were about to leave and get in the car, Hoseok came barging in.

           “I thought we were meeting you there?” Jin asked. Hoseok looked between the two of us, confusion written on his face.

           “Does Namjoon live here?” He asked after a minute of silence. I smiled to myself at how small a world we live in and nodded. “Namjoon, let’s go!” Hoseok yelled, and I took that moment to check him out without him noticing. Jin elbowed me in the side and told me we should get going before Taehyung thinks we’re hooking up.

           “He really won’t ever let us live that down, hey.” Jin and I shared a laugh as we told Hoseok we’d meet them at the club. “Hey thots, we ready to get lit?!” I exclaimed as I got into the car. Taehyung rolled his eyes at me, but I could see the smile he was trying to hide.

           “That was fast for the two of you. Just a quicky this time?” I rolled my eyes and leaned forward to playfully slap him as he was driving.

           “It was one time! And it was years ago.”

           “Still weird.” I shook my head and leaned back in my seat.

           We got a booth before Hoseok and his friends arrived and joined us. Namjoon’s eyes widened when he saw me, and Jimin glared at him, obviously still upset about what happened earlier. “Hey, I uh, already apologized to Y/N, but I guess I should apologize to you too. I shouldn’t have snapped like that.” Hoseok’s two other friends looked between Jimin and Namjoon, wondering what happened. “It was Y/N’s place first, and you two are dating so I should be nicer.” I was so caught up in him giving me a coffee that I completely forgot to correct him on that fact, but it still made me laugh. Jin and Taehyung burst out laughing while Jimin just sat there with a dumbfounded look on his face.

           “Oh my god, Y/N and Jimin dating.” Jin laughed.

           “That’s the best joke I’ve ever heard!” Taehyung added, bent at the waist as tears streamed down his face from how hard he was laughing. I felt bad for Namjoon as he stood there, confused as to what was so funny. His friends eventually put two and two together and shook their heads.

           “Y/N and I aren’t dating.” Jimin finally said. Namjoon went completely red in the face and I found myself smiling at how cute it was. For the first time since he moved in, I actually got a good look at him and honestly I couldn’t stop myself from staring. I’m not sure if it was the dim lighting, or the way he was dressed, but he was really handsome.

           “Oh, sorry.” He quickly said. “I’m going to go get a drink.” I quickly stood from the booth and followed him as Hoseok introduced his two friends to the rest of the group.

           “Hey!” I said when I caught up to him. “Sorry about my friends. Also sorry I didn’t correct you earlier, it slipped my mind.” He shrugged his shoulders, saying it wasn’t a big deal. “Jimin has been my best friend since diapers, basically my brother. That’s why Jin and Taehyung found it so funny.” Namjoon nodded.

           “I don’t need your life story.” My heart sank when he said that. I thought we were finally getting somewhere with our relationship, but I guess he was just the kind of guy who couldn’t not right a wrong.

           “Noted.” I ordered mine and my friend’s drinks, as well as shots for the table, told the bartender which table, and turned to walk away before Namjoon made his order. I plopped down beside Jin who immediately wrapped his arm around me. “Sorry, I ran off before I could get your names.” I smiled at the two strangers sitting across from me.

           “I’m Jungkook, and mister grumpy pants there is Yoongi.”

           “Well I hope no one minds, but I ordered shots for the table.” Just as I said that Namjoon came back with the bartender and the two handed out the drinks and shots that had been ordered. I held up my shot glass and everyone else followed suit. “Let’s get litty titty!”

           “You’re not allowed to make the toast ever again.” Jin said as we all downed our first round of shots. Namjoon was sat directly across from me, staring at me as if I kicked his dog. Conversations started around the table, but Namjoon just sat there, staring at me. I downed my drink in record time while making eye contact with him. I leaned across the table and motioned for Namjoon to do the same.

           “You keep staring at me like that, I’ll think you’re secretly in love with me.” I said just loud enough for him to hear and sat back. “Jin, come get another drink with me!” I slid my hand into his and he happily obliged, asking around the table if anyone else wanted something.

           At some point during the night, I convinced some of the guys to hit the dance floor with me. Namjoon obviously stayed behind, rolling his eyes at my invitation. “Don’t take it to heart.” Hoseok told me as a group of us made our way to the dance floor. “He doesn’t know how to act around girls he thinks are pretty.” I smiled at the insinuation that Namjoon thought I was pretty.

           Jin took my hand as soon as we hit the dance floor and the two of us began dancing together. I could feel the alcohol starting to hit me and began to let loose. “Your friends are betting on whether or not you and Jin are going to hookup tonight.” Hoseok told me as we made our way to the bar to get more drinks before heading back to the table for a rest.

           “They do that every time.” His eyes widened. “Jin and I hooked up once a couple years ago and now the two of them, Taehyung especially, won’t let us live it down.” He nodded in understanding.

            I sat beside Namjoon, considerably more drunk than when I left the table. He looked at me with the same annoyed look he’s been giving me all night, but I didn’t let it bother me this time. “A little birdy told me you think I’m pretty.” I slurred out and laughed as his eyes widened and he suddenly got nervous.

           “I don’t know who told you that, but they’re lying.” His words hurt more than I’d like to admit. I don’t know why I want him to think I’m pretty, but I do. I stood up to move to the other side of the booth and sit beside Taehyung, but he grabbed my wrist and pulled me back down beside him. “I-I think you’re beautiful.” He stuttered out, obviously not nearly as drunk as me. With my elbows on the table, I put my head in my hands and turned my body to look up at him.

           “You look really handsome tonight, Namjoon.” I could see a bit of pink dust his cheeks as he smiled. “Oh! You have a dimple.” I said as I poked it and brought my face closer to his to get a better look. He swatted my hand away and looked away from me. “You’re so mean to me.” I pouted. I reached out and placed my hands on his cheeks and made him look at me. His eyes were wide as I studied his face with a pout on my face.

           “What are you doing?” He asked, reaching up and taking my hands in his, removing them from his face.

           “Memorizing your handsome face, since you always hide from me.”

           “Sorry.” I smiled at him.

           “Come dance with me!” I stood up again and held my hand out to him, catching the attention of the other two sitting at the table, specifically Yoongi. Namjoon lowered my arm, denying my request. “Please! Just one song.” Yoongi smirked at Namjoon who seemed embarrassed.

           “I’m not much of a dancer.”

           “I’m not either!” I exclaimed and grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the booth. He didn’t resist much as I pulled him to the dance floor, earning a surprised look from Hoseok who was having a mini dance battle with Jimin. “Don’t be weird about it.” I laughed as I started dancing. Namjoon was very stiff and awkwardly smiled at me. “Let loose.” I grabbed his hands and started dancing with him, trying to get him to enjoy himself. I got lost in the song and Namjoon eventually let go of my hands and just watched me.

           “I’m going to get a drink; do you want anything.” Namjoon whispered in my ear after a couple songs passed.

           “Surprise me.” I continued to dance while I watched him walk away. I didn’t expect him to actually get me a drink, but he returned a few minutes later and handed me the same drink I’d been drinking all night.

           After a few more songs and a couple more drinks, I had definitely surpassed my limit, and Namjoon could tell. I was slumped over on the table, barely able to keep my head up. “Let’s head home.” He said softly, bending down in front of me, telling me to hop on his back. I loosely wrapped my arms around his neck, and he stood, reaching back to support my legs. Jin, Jimin, Jungkook and Hoseok were heading back to the table as we were leaving. “I’m going to take her home. The uber is outside.” He explained to the group before leaving for the door.

           “Please don’t hate me.” I whispered as he walked outside and towards the waiting car.

           “I couldn’t ever.” He replied, setting me in the backseat, and ran to the other side. For some reason, his words caused my heart to flutter. I didn’t expect to start crushing on my quiet roommate, but somehow it happened.

           The next morning I woke up with one of the worst headaches I’ve ever experienced. As I sat up in my bed, I saw some Advil and a glass of water on my side table and smiled. What happened last night wasn’t a dream.

           “I’m making breakfast, if you want.” Namjoon said as I descended down the stairs. I smiled to myself as I looked at him standing in the kitchen with an apron on. I made my way over to the barstools that sat beside the island and took a seat, just watching him. “Uh, what are you doing?” He asked, a blush rising to his cheeks like many times last night.

           “I don’t know how long you’re going to be nice to me like this, so I’m going to bask in it.” I giggled and he just rolled his eyes at me, feigning annoyance.

           “You’re annoying.” He scoffed, turning back to whatever he was cooking.

           “Yeah, but you still think I’m pretty.” I teased. He didn’t even bother turning around when he said his next words.

           “I already told you that was a lie.” I stood up from the barstool and walked behind him and wrapped my arms around his torso, taking in his scent and feeling the butterflies in my stomach take flight yet again. I could feel him tense under my touch, but as quickly as he tensed, he relaxed into my embrace. “I think you’re beautiful.” He repeated his statement from last night, and I wouldn’t believe him if he said he couldn’t hear how hard my heart was pounding.

           “Go on a date with me today.” I said as I let go of him, looking up to see his reaction. He was pretending it didn’t affect him as he continued cooking, but I could see the blush on his cheeks and I smiled, knowing I made him just as nervous as he made me.

           “A date?” He questioned, not even bothering to look at me.

           “Yes. A date. With me. Like bowling or something. Something fun though!” He took the pan off the stove and started plating the food, still not giving me an answer, which caused my nerves to start to get the best of me. Still, I refused to take it back. I wanted to go on a date with him and I wasn’t one to sit around and wait. Still silent, he walked to the dining table, placing both plates on it and finally taking time to look at me.

           “You couldn’t have waited for me to ask you?” He chuckled, causing all my worries to subside as I walked to the dining table and taking a seat.

           “I go after what I want.” I shrugged. “And I want you.”

           “Well, at least let me plan it.” I agreed to his condition and the two of us ate in silence, glancing up at each other every once in a while with shy smiles.

[luna-the-moth]

Crimson Rivulets (SFW) Pt.1

Alright, since Lucifer won first place in the poll, I’ll start off with the Avatar of Pride himself! This was supposed to be a hc/scenario, but I suppose this jumped out at me! GN! reader, and SFW. This’ll be a series, so I’ll link each part as they come out! 

Word count: 2.1k words

This is a Vampire!Lucifer AU and (SFW) Modern! CEO Lucifer AU

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED

Reblogs, likes, and comments are greatly appreciated!

Vampire!Lucifer AU (SFW)

A pureblood vampire, scorned by his father, and cast out with his siblings. From a young age, Lucifer had learned to take care of himself, along with his brothers. As the eldest, he felt a strong urgency and need to shield and protect his siblings, at any cost. Even at the expense of his pride.

Before stepping out of his father’s light, Lucifer had been one of the most prestigious vampires; the most sought-after. Fellow purebloods, half-bloods, and turned vampires alike had flung themselves at him, left and right.

In truth, Lucifer had no interest in any of them. Why would he distract himself, when he was supposed to inherit the family business and fortune? As the eldest son of the household, he was expected to be the pinnacle of class, intelligence; the embodiment for everything a pureblood represents.

He was known by many titles and honorifics, having obtained various positions of high status throughout his eternal lifetime. Governor, count, high priest, etc. But the name you know him as now, is Lucifer, CEO of Morningstar Corp.

The same Morningstar Corp., where you were going to apply for. Specifically, the open occupation of a personal assistant. You had been searching for a job close to the city, with decent benefits and stability. Which is quite odd, as Lucifer was known for his short temper, and had a reputation of going through assistants at least once a month.

Along with the fact that he was one of the most influential businessmen, it added an extra reason to be cautious. After all, he could make or break you, and if he didn’t like you? Say goodbye to all future job potential. His influence spread across the country, connections with almost every important figure of power.

The position offered a higher-than-average salary, and benefits of high worth. It was a gamble, but if fate smiled down on you, it may as well be one of the best opportunities of your life. Well, it was, but not in the way you expected.

Adjusting your tie slightly, you entered the doors of the building, a pleasant demeanor sweeping over your features. You had to be poised and professional, after all, this was a multi-billion company, if you weren’t your best, failure was guaranteed.

You had worn a simple outfit, contrasting to the corporation’s high-class, expensive atmosphere. But you were just applying to be an personal assistant after all, behind the scenes; so you wore a professional outfit, that wouldn’t stand out.

Arriving just on time for your interview, you took the elevator to the 27th floor, as the receptionist had instructed. With smooth, light jazz playing in the small space, your mind wandered to the possibility of what would happen if the job was granted to you.

Would Lucifer be a haughty, conceited, arrogant boss to work for?

Snorting, you thought, “Of course he is, he’s Lucifer Morningstar, CEO of one of the most prestigious companies in the country, why wouldn’t he be?”

Ping!

Interrupted by the signal of arrival from the elevator, you took in a deep breath, and stepped out of the elevator, hope in your heart.

The interview had gone fairly smoothly, as you answered the questions in a concise, polite manner. It was surprisingly less nerve wracking, besides the fact that your interviewer looked like he wanted to bite you-

At least, he had seemed like it. With mesmerizing, and hungry forest green eyes, you felt yourself gravitating towards him. Although, you quickly reminded yourself that this was a professional setting, and you were applying for an interview.

Seemingly pleased with your responses, the interviewer bade you goodbye as you left the office, a mysterious smirk gracing his features. Leaving the room, the image of him stayed in your mind for days, the intensity and calculation in his gaze haunting you, luring you in.

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

For a few days, you had idly scrolled through other job listings, as you didn’t want to rely on the Morningstar Corp. application. After all, you were just one of many applicants, it’d be foolish to place all your hope into that one position.

After another day or two, you got a callback. They had accepted your application, and Mr. Satan, your interviewer, had wanted you to come back and sign the official papers, along with a tour of the building.

With hope in your heart, and a lightness in your step, you entered the skyscraper of a building once again, an air of confidence about you. Well, a sense of security and assurance would be a more accurate description.

Walking down the clean, polished hallway of the 34th floor, your thoughts wandered. However, they were abruptly stopped when you heard a stern voice ring out, prideful and condescending.

“Yes, and? It’s almost pitiful, how lousy you are with your job. I hired you as an interviewer, yet all of your choices have been fired or left on their own accord.

Honestly, since you are one of the most educated and competent halfbloods, I thought you would at least have some potential. If you can’t even find a decent personal assistant for me, I see no potential for you here at Morningstar Corp.”

In an open conference room, you saw a young man, with blond hair, and seemed to be his mid twenties. With a scowl on his face, narrowed eyes were directed towards the man in front of you.

Ah, it was your interviewer, you had realized. Who else had such enchanting, deep green eyes? Focus, you chastised yourself.

“Oh please, you drive off even the most patient of assistants! Speaking of personal assistants, you can’t just call them ‘degenerate, insolent worms not worth the dirt on your shoes, much less your investment,’ because they brewed your coffee a little too long, sir.

If you weren’t such an entitled, demanding pureblood, I’d-”

Wait- pureblood?

As he was about to fire off an insult, his gaze darted towards you, eyes seemingly gazing into your soul. Your breath hitched, words barely being able to force themselves out of your throat.

“Ah, my apologies, I didn’t mean to interrupt, I’ll be back later-”

Hastily turning on your heel, you attempted to leave, but were stopped by a commanding voice behind you. Immediately, you had recognized him. The same voice you had heard over and over, in press conferences, and various ceremonies.

“Just where do you think you’re going?”

You turned around, suddenly anxious and on edge. Something about that voice made you shiver in fear, and...delight?

Lucifer was dressed in a dark navy blue suit, with corresponding dress pants, along with a crisp, white dress shirt, hidden under a dark blue not unlike that of the suit. To add on, a black tie was adorned around his neck, with black dress shoes.

Wow Y/n, the first thing you think about when confronted by one of the most powerful businessmen in the country, is about how hot you think his voice is, and that collar- Get yourself together!

Blinking once, your gaze meets that of a blood-red one, almost hypnotic. A deep, bloody red that was similar to that of roses, or perhaps rivulets of blood. Almost like the blood red eyes of a vampire, found in fantasy novels and mythological stories.

Although, maybe he was one, since Satan had mentioned him being a ‘pureblood,’ if I recall correctly. That could mean anything, though.

Nonetheless, you quickly snapped your focus back to the present, as you had realized you had been staring into his eyes for maybe a bit too long. With burning red staining the tips of your ears, you replied with a slight waver in your voice,

“I was just about to leave and reschedule my appointment with Mr. Satan, as it seemed the two of you were busy, Mr. Morningstar.”

Staring at each other’s eyes for what seemed like forever, Lucifer smirked, breaking the hold on your gaze to glance back at Satan. With a dignified air around him, his moniker of “The Peacock” seemed quite fitting.

“Is this the new assistant you were speaking of, Satan?”

Scowling, he nodded curtly.

“Yes, this is Y/n L/n, your newest personal assistant. Out of all of your previous assistants, they’re the most qualified, and seem to align with your standards the most. I have faith in them.”

Taken aback by the blatant praise, you dipped your head in a gesture of thanks and gratitude.

Lucifer observed with a slightly curious gaze, masked behind a cover of apathetic, uninterested layers of emotions. It was rare for Satan to praise anyone, much less a new assistant.

He couldn’t deny that his curiosity was piqued; after all, he held Satan’s opinion in high regard, arguments aside. If he believed in your capabilities, you had to have at least some merit.

As much as Lucifer would like to deny it, he was a demanding boss, especially since his levels of stress were through the roof. Hell, if he was human, he’d be dead from overworking and lack of rest. Fortunately for the undead immortal, he wasn’t.

“I see, well Y/n, why don’t you finish up the required paperwork with Satan, and he’ll give you a tour afterwards. Your first day of work starts this coming Monday, be here at 7AM, sharp.”

Turning away, you stole a glimpse his face once more before Lucifer left, leaving you and Satan.

Letting out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding in, you turned to Satan, mind clouded with thoughts flurried, flying through your head.

With  charming smile and a certain glint in his eye, Satan gestured to the conference room, with papers and files ready on the table.

“Shall we?”

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

Monday, 6:50 AM

Arriving at the building, you were huffing, as you had rushed over. Your morning had been fairly quiet, but the real issue was with traffic.

There was a car crash on your route to work, and it nearly made you late, added with the fact that parking spots were far and few to find, it was a miracle you had made it on time.

However, the sight that greeted you when you stepped into the polished office was...something, to say the least.

The first thing you noticed was a wave of iron and rust permeating your senses, filling your nostrils and causing light-headedness.

On Lucifer’s desk, sat vials of blood, and the man in question, had his fangs inserted through a vial. seeming to drink the blood through his fangs.

With closed eyes and a contented look on his face, Lucifer seemed to drink the blood like a mere cup of tea, nonchalant.

Letting out a noise of surprise, you clapped a hand over your mouth in shock; your boss was a vampire, just like from the manga you had read....

Lashes fluttering open, Lucifer looks at you with . Removing his fangs from the vial,  he swiped his tongue along his fangs, not letting a drop of blood go to waste.

Setting it down, he placed his head on his propped hand in a bored manner, a contempt expression worn smugly across his face.

“Right on time, L/n. Since today’s your first day on the job, I’ll give you a simple task. Prepare a coffee with 18 shots of espresso, a dash of milk, and a caffeine booster.

Afterwards, you will stop by the clinic on the 13th floor, and collect a vial of Aspherion from the medicinal vault. The identification program should have your information set, and should be able to identify you by the card Satan gave you previously.”

Standing in shock, your eyes were wide with surprise, firstly, because your new boss was a vampire; also, that is an inhuman amount of caffeine, how the fuck has he not died yet- plus, having a vampiric boss wasn’t included in the contract.

No wonder the benefits were so great, he was gonna drink your blood like a fucking juice box.

“What in the world? First of all, my name’s Y/n, and I would appreciate if you would call me as such. Secondly, a vampire? Do you really think I’m just going to accept that, no question?”

Incredulous, you had gestured your hands in a dramatic fashion, genuinely offended that your new boss had thought you were going to take in this new information within seconds, and be completely fine with it.

Sighing with a look of irritation flashing across his features, he gestured for you to sit in an empty seat, proceeding to prop his chin on his hands. In his eyes, shone curiosity, and a challenge.

“Fine. What would you like to know?”

[fandom-blackhole]

19. Summer Camp AU

73. Stranded Due to Inclement Weather

I haven't seen a summer camp AU and now I'm OBSESSED WITH THE CONCEPT

Just gonna preface this with the fact that I am currently working as an on campus RA and I kind of got the idea from that....

19. Summer Camp AU

 73. Stranded Due to Inclement Weather 

Okay, so I wanna start this off in kind of a cute way. So when you were in highschool, there was the summer camp that you would go to every year. At the summer camp you had fun, but you had trouble with making friends, always tending to stick to the back of the group, not really wanting to deal with the drama floating around and the over all rowdy-ness of the kids your age. There at the back of the group was always another boy, who kept to himself, and never really interacted with people. It took you your second summer there, to finally introduce yourself to him, and after that you and Din Djarin became close friends. The two of you were practically glued together, never going anywhere without the other, unless it was time to go to your cabins at night. Din was sweet and kind to you, and over the years you found yourself crushing on the boy, but not doing anything because you didn't want to loose him as a friend. Then, your last day, or your last summer at the camp, Din grabbed your hand and placed his necklace he was always wearing in your hand, the one with the 'mudhorn signet' as he had called it, saying, "I...I....I want you to have this, to, um, well so you don't forget about me...." You flipped out and looked at him sad and panicking saying that you didn't have anything for him in return. He had only replied saying he didn't need anything to remember you, but last minute, still panicking and thinking that this might be the last time you see him, you reached up and pulled him down into a kiss. It was short and sweet and you didn't want to pull away but you had too. After that day, you wore his necklaces religiously, everyday, and swore you would see him again. But the days, months, years passed and before you knew it you were fully an adult. Stressed, you take a vacation from your pointless job to go and visit your home town, and your parents. One morning while you were there your dad made an off hand comment about your old summer camp needing chaperones and helpers, and you immediately jumped at the chance, sending in your application. A week letter you received a letter saying that you got the job and that you needed to come to the camp sight next week to help set up for the summer. Time passed quickly, and before you knew it, you were walking along the old summer camp feeling nostalgic and happy. The place looked the exact same, the main building/cafeteria was still in the middle of the property, surrounded by several cabins, in the back there was a volleyball pit and some rope swings, and behind those was the glittering deep blue lake. Smiling while reminiscing on old times, you walked into the main building. Inside, you found a man with his back to you talking to another woman. As you got closer you couldn't take your eyes off the man, he had an air of familiarity about him, his wide shoulders, narrow waist (and nice ass, not that you were looking at it....), and dark and unruly curl hair. When you got up next to him, he had finished speaking with the woman and you softly cleared your throat saying, "Excuse, this is my first year working here, could you point me to what I need to be doing?" Then the man was turning around, and the first thing you noticed was his cute and patchy facial hair as well as his arms you previously had thought were crossed were holding a young toddler. When you finally looked up to meet the man's eyes you were immediately thrown into the past, seeing the rich deep brown that held nothing but kindness, and at the same time the two of you said eachother's names. You said it more surprised, while Din whispered your name shocked and with a touch of disbelief. Unconsciously you reached up for the necklace that he had given to you years before, while saying, "Maker Din, i swear you have grown a whole other foot since I seen you last." Sheepishly, with a light dusting of pink falling across his cheeks, Din said, "Well..you..you have grown so much prettier..." Then immediately after his eyes widened and he rushed out, "Wait no, I, uh, didn't mean it like that, I just meant..." You just

giggled at him and said, "I see you are still great with words Din." The rest of the day passed quickly, the two of you setting up and talking about whats happened since you last saw the other. You found out that Din had been working at the camp since he was old enough to apply, and to the point that he was the head of the camp, practically running the place by himself, besides the owner. And when he explained that the young toddler, whose name is Grogu, he had adopted, he wasn't his biologically, never having been in a long committed relationship, well you were more relieved than you should have been. After the kids showed up and things picked up for the summer, the two of you worked as pretty much the perfect team. Din was good with the kids, always coming up with and doing activities that had all the kids joining in and having fun. While you were great with talking with the kids, and sorting through any problems or teenage drama. You often found Grogu following you around with smiles, as he came to you for attention when he felt his father wasn't giving him enough, by his little standards. Whenever your were playing with or spoiling the little child, you tended to feel like someone was watching you but you often brushed it off. All together the summer passed with little problem, but lots of tension that slowly built over over time between you and Din. The last day was spent in pretty much chaos as throughout the day parents came and picked up their kids, and by the time it was getting dark the last kid was leaving and you were exhausted and just ready to sleep. The next day was spent cleaning up the buildings and most of the staff leaving, until it was only you, Din, and Grogu. Grogu had been getting fussy as Din was finishing putting away some heavier boxes, so you had taken the child and put him down for a nap. Shortly after the child fell asleep, Din sneaked into the staff cabin you both had been staying at, whispering, "We should be heading out, that large thunderstorm is rolling in faster than what was predicted. Do you need help carr-" Mid sentence Din stopped talking, and when you looked up to meet his eyes, you saw him reach forward brushing his thumb of the necklace that was no longer tucked into your shirt. You had been hiding it the entire summer, not brave enough to bring up that final day together years ago. But now Din softly brushed his thumb back and forth over the necklace, before whispering, "You actually kept it?" "Of course I did, I have worn it everyday since." Then he met your eyes, and looked down at your lips for a second, before leaning in slowly so you could pull away if you wanted, then his lips crashed with your own and you were tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling you closer. After that one thing led to another, and you both had ended up sleeping together, going at it multiple times before completely falling asleep tangled together for the night. After an hour of peaceful sleeping you both were jolted awake by the a loud crack of thunder. Looking at eachother you both said, "Shit" before jumping apart and scrambling to get dressed. In your little tryst, the two of you had completely forgotten about the storm. And now, Din was running to get his crying son, as you peaked out the window. The storm outside was raging so hard that you couldn't even see the next cabin over, the wind was howling and you could hear branches snapping and trees growing from the amount of wind. Turning around you looked at Din when he entered the room and said, "We aren't leaving anytime soon. If I remember correctly this story is supposed to last for a day or so. So we better hunker down?" Din sighed and nodded, passing Grogu to you and saying that he was going to go whip something up for dinner. The weather just progressively continued to get worse and worse, at one point the small cabin lost power and Din went around lighting any candles he could find, and dragging every blanket and pillow into the living area so you all could sleep together. By the time the frightened child finally fell asleep again, you

and Din were all but exhausted and worried. But you had to admit that falling asleep in his arms right there in the middle of that living room was something you wanted to happen more often, if not forever.

Send me an AU or two??

[vanilladyfics]

Fighting Fate - Ch 1

Read Chapter Two

Ship: Sir Nighteye x GN!Reader

Genre: Angst with a happy ending, Mutual Pining, Office Romance

Warnings: Suicide Themes, Slight Sexuality, Yandere if you squint

Word Count: 1.6k

Author’s Note:  I needed to get this out of my head so I can focus on other projects.  This story takes place after Eri’s rescue where nothing bad happened.

Summary: Nighteye’s quirk predicts his assistant will die before the night’s end, but he’s not about to accept fate this time around.

Do not repost.

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Mirai Sasaki was a hero first, man second.  His greatest strength as a hero came not from his precognition, but his control.  A control that, lately, has been slipping.  As a general rule, Sasaki only used his quirk for his hero work.  He only had one shot at it a day, so to waste it on something personal would not only be unprofessional, but could put himself and the people he had sworn to protect at risk should an emergency arise.  And yet, he wanted to use it on you.

Sasaki had no problem with you when you first started as his assistant.  Sure, there were times you needed to be reminded to smile, and his jokes didn't always land with you (which was on you-- his delivery was flawless), but everyone had those days.  Midnight was partially to blame.  Her recent jokes about his tickle torture machine being used for foreplay had been fresh in his mind the first time you needed it to be reminded to smile.  Sasaki had dismissed her comments easily enough.  There was nothing inherently sexual about tickling someone into submission with their hands bound above their head, helpless and vulnerable.  Their hysterical laughter turning into gasps and pants as they struggled for air.  Thighs clamped tightly together as they desperately tried to avoid wetting themselves, begging for release.

Then he put you in those cuffs, saw you writhe against the machine, and he understood.  Seeing you thrash about, pulling against your restraints, your shirt coming untucked from your waistband as you struggled, Sasaki felt... something.  He turned the machine off in a panic the moment he diagnosed what he was feeling.  Kayama was right, and he was a fool.

He hadn't put anyone in the machine since.  He considered taking it down and retiring it all together, but it served as an effective warning that his office would be full of smiles.  Still, he couldn't look at it the same way-- couldn't look at you the same way. He barely looked at you at all, actually.  Each time he did, his mind went to unprofessional places.  He made a point not to treat you any differently from his other employees.  He bought flowers.  Not for you.  For the office. It just happened that the logical place for them was on the front desk-- your desk.  The treats in the break room you liked weren't for you, but for the team.

Technically, Sasaki never instated a rule against dating subordinates.  He managed all of his employees directly, and never thought about any of them romantically, so the thought never occurred to him to implement one.  Asking out his assistant might be legal, but he morally couldn't put you in a position where you might fear for your livelihood.  The right thing to do would have been to get you a job somewhere else, wait until you were settled, and then make a move... but then you'd be so far away.

Sasaki couldn't stay in this limbo between courting and ignoring you forever.  He had a few options.  He could ignore the feelings, keeping you at arms length just to keep in his life.  He could throw all sense of propriety aside and ask you directly, risk losing you completely and forcing him to find a new assistant.  So he decided. If four-o-clock hit and he hadn't used his quirk for the day, he'd use it on you.  If he saw your future together, it was fate, morality and propriety be damned.  If you ended up with someone else, he would be a man step aside.

--

You winced at the pounding in your head, forcing yourself to smile despite the pain.  You couldn't let anyone see you frown in Sir Nighteye's Hero Agency.  The last time you did, you were stuck in that HR nightmare of a contraption until you nearly wet yourself in front of Sir Nighteye himself.  You flushed at the memory.  You needed to get out, and this new influx of emails only confirmed it: Job applications, for your position.  He had caught you looking down once and had been acting strangely ever since.  Now you know it's because he had been sneaking around trying to replace you. You double checked Mr. Sasaki's schedule before confirming the interview times for this first batch of applicants.  You should have seen it coming, but it still hurt to have to help pick out your own replacement.  You saw their resumes.  Many of them had a better education and more experience than you.  They'd be a much better fit at the agency.  They probably wouldn't have to pretend to be happy.

You checked the time.  Four-o-clock.  One more hour and you'd be free to go home and cry yourself to sleep.  You paused.  No.  You still had to pick up groceries, reach out to your doctor about these headaches and starting your medication again, and figure out how to respectfully decline this last arranged marriage meeting.  Somehow, you doubted “Sorry, I but I still have a thing for my boss even though he wants to fire me” was going to cut it.  You added 'apply for jobs' to your mental to-do list.

Mr. Sasaki walked in.  You plastered your best smile on your face to greet him.  “Good evening, sir!”  You would play ignorant.  If he wanted to be sneaky, so could you.

“Good evening, [Y/N].  How are you?”

“I'm doing well... Sir?”  He was looking you in the eye for the first time since the tickle incident.  It felt strange somehow. Serious.

He cleared his throat, pulling a business card from the inner pocket of his blazer.  “Make sure to update Edgeshot's contact information before you leave.”

Your fingers brushed against his as you accepted the card.  “Right away, sir.”

He looked in your eyes, and your future played out in his mind like a strip of film: The stranger harassing you on the train ride home, stepping over the candidacy pictures of potential suitors someone slipped under your door, answering a phone call and arguing until you hung up and threw the phone against the wall.  The tears. The bathtub.  And then...

Nothing.

“My office.  Now.”

Icy dread washed over you as he closed the door behind you.  Just how much had he seen?  You stood at attention under his unnerving gaze.  The man was as handsome as he was intimidating.

“Tell me what's going on.”

You floundered for an answer. “Just... work.”  His grip on your arm tightened.  You winced.  He had to know you were lying-- he clearly saw something in your future he didn't like.  You had to give him something.  “I went ahead and scheduled the interviews for the assistant position next week.  Thank you for my time here.  I'm sorry we weren't a better fit.”

Oh.

He let go of your arm.  He only put out that help wanted ad to be prepared in case you left the agency.  He should have considered your reaction when you found out.  Stupid.  So incredibly stupid.  He was usually so thorough.  Sasaki sat at his desk.  He needed to think, and he couldn't do that standing right next to you.  When he saw your timeline cut short, he never thought he might have contributed to it.  He could change the future.  Fix it.  He'd seen it done before.

“I'm not firing you.”

“It's okay.  I didn't take it personally,” you lied, reminding yourself to smile.  Always smile.

You clearly didn't believe him, but he couldn't bring himself to tell you why he was looking for a new assistant.  Now wasn't the time for a love confession.  How could today have gone so wrong? He needed a plan.

“What are your plans for this evening?”

Was he asking you to stay late?  You shrugged.  “Running errands.  Groceries.  Dinner.”  File for unemployment.  “Normal stuff.”

He nodded, threading his fingers together.  It didn't sound like you were planning on ending things tonight, but he wasn't an expert.  His hero work centered on fighting external threats, like villains or natural disasters, not civilians who were a danger to themselves.  He should let an expert take over, but could he really entrust you to a stranger?  Could he convince you to talk to a crisis center when you couldn't admit anything was wrong?  Would the shame push you over that edge?  And why were you still smiling?

He needed to buy time, and for that, you wouldn't be leaving his sight.  He looked into your future again, but it remained unchanged.  The last push seemed to be that phone call, but he couldn't make out who it was from.  It didn't matter. “Give me your phone.”

His tone brokered no argument, and you handed it over without hesitation.  His thumb brushed over the screen.  It was cracked.  Surely he was paying you enough to have it repaired or replaced outright.  Sasaki frowned, considering.  No phone meant no phone call.  No phone call meant no tears.

He snapped it in half.

“What the hell!?”  You rushed to take the broken pieces from him, but he held them tighter.

“I'll buy you a new one.”

“That's not the point!  It wasn't yours!”

“I need you to work overtime tonight. You are not to leave this building, is that understood?”

Fate could be rewritten.  Sasaki would ensure you made it through tonight, even if you ended up hating him for it.

[baoshan-sanren]

Chapter 15 Part 2

of the wwx emperor au that’s now more like the terrible horrible time the Lan Sect is having ugh

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 Part 1 | Chapter 8 Part 2 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 Part 1

The wait goes on forever. Nearly two hours pass before the commotion announces the Emperor’s approach.

Gone is every trace of the boy who had carried a child on his hip. Wei WuXian’s robe is liquid black, gold dragons climbing over his shoulders and twisting down the arms. Above this unforgiving color, his cheeks appear hollow, each line of his face sharp enough to cut.  

Nie HuaiSang is walking by his side, light of step next to Wei WuXian’s heavy stride, flowing green robes next to Wei WuXian’s stark lines. The Emperor is leading him, Nie HuaiSang’s hand lightly resting on the Emperor’s embroidered sleeve, and WangJi thinks that the Royal Companion has never more looked an equal partner in power, as if his rightful place is by the Emperor’s side.

It is a bitter, pointless realization, one that WangJi does not have time to analyze.

Behind the Emperor, there is a flash of red robes and dark hair. WangJi recognizes Wen Qing, the granddaughter of the Head Healer. Behind her, two servants follow. One of them carries a tray. Inexplicably, the tray holds a tea pot, and three cups.

The Emperor leads Nie HuaiSang to the dais. He sits down, his eyes passing over the kneeling forms before giving them the permission to rise. Nie HuaiSang settles by his feet. Wen Qing and the two servants remain at the bottom of the dais.

“High Councilor,” the Emperor says, without looking at Jiang FengMian, “the rumors in the palace halls are running rampant. I hope you have a more coherent narrative to present.”

“Your Majesty,” Jiang FengMian says, “the HeJian Fan Sect Leader has been poisoned.”

“I am aware,” the Emperor says, “as I come from his bedside. The correct antidote has been provided by the Head Healer, and will see him back to full health in a matter of days.”

“Ah, this is very good news. Excellent news,” Jiang FengMian says, “Ah-- yes. The Young Master of the Lan Sect has been accused of giving the Fan Sect Leader the poison.”

“Who has accused him?”

Two men step out from the sea of people. They both kneel, and the Emperor impatiently gestures that they should rise.

One of them wears the uniform of TingShan He Sect, the other, a uniform of the LanLing Jin. WangJi vaguely remembers seeing the youth wearing the Jin Sect uniform, but the other is unfamiliar.

The man in the TingShan He colors steps forward, “Your Majesty, I was seated at the HeJian Fan Sect table. The Fan Sect Leader did not consume any food or drink prior to joining the Lan Sect Leader. I remember it clearly, because Fan XiaoHu had complained that her father does not eat enough, and that she must always place food in front of him. I--“ he shifts, appearing nervous, “It is not my intention to make an accusation, but to stand as a witness to the fact that no poison could have been consumed at the Fan Sect table.”

“I will accuse him,” the youth in the Jin Sect uniform arrogantly steps forward, “I saw, with my own eyes, Lan XiChen pour tea for the Fan Sect Leader. Less than an hour later, the Fan Sect Leader was bleeding from his nose and mouth.”

“Did Young Master Lan only pour tea for the Fan Sect Leader?” Wen Qing asks.

The Jin disciple seems offended that she had chosen to speak to him, but after one look at the Emperor’s face, he swallows whatever complaints he may have offered.

“He did not. He poured for both Sect Leaders, and himself. But he could have easily slipped the poison in Fan Sect Leader’s cup.”

“He could have,” Jiang FengMian says, “but you did not see it.”

“No, I--“ the Jin disciple is beginning to turn red, “I saw him pour the tea.”

“You saw some tea being poured?” a small Nie Sect disciple pipes up scornfully from the other side of the hall, “How is that a crime?”

Nie MingJue shoots a murderous look in kid’s direction. The boy scrunches up his face, and decides to study the floor instead.

The Jin Sect disciple’s face is very red now, “If both Lan QiRen and Lan XiChen drank the tea, and only the Fan Sect Leader was poisoned, then Lan XiChen must have put the poison into the cup.”

“But you did not see him put the poison into the cup,” Jiang FengMian says kindly.

“No, I--“

He looks at if he wants repeat the fact that he had seen Lan XiChen pour the tea, but then thinks better of it, and shuts his mouth with a click.

Throughout all this, XiChen is still kneeling, perfectly still, head bowed. There is no fear or tension in his posture. WangJi cannot see his brother’s face, but he can picture the forced calm, the acceptance of whatever may come. It is infuriating.  

WangJi will not accept this. Anyone who thinks that they can lay a hand on his brother, for a crime he did not commit, will lose that hand by WangJi’s blade.

“Jin ZiXun is half-correct,” the Emperor says coldly, “the poison was in the cup. Wen Qing?”

The girl picks up the cup, “The poison in question is the venom extracted from the black ring snake. It is known as the poor man’s poison; it can be easily obtained in any region of the Empire. It is extremely bitter to taste. In heavily spiced foods, the taste can be hidden, but it would have definitely been noticeable in the mild tea that was served this morning. The common practice is to mix the poison with beeswax, which neutralizes the bitter taste. You can see, by the shine on the porcelain, that the inside of the cup is still coated. The application of this beeswax is time-consuming and takes an infinite amount of care; any direct contact with skin could have introduced the venom to the bloodstream. In other words,” she places the cup back on to the tray, “the inside of the cup had to have been coated ahead of time. As Young Master Lan had been so closely watched,” she nods to Jin ZiXun, “it would have been impossible for him to apply this poison to the cup without being seen.”

“So, he did not put the poison in at the picnic,” Jin ZiXun says, “he could have done it ahead of time.”

“Are you stupid?” the little Nie Sect disciple explodes again, “The cups were placed on the tables by the Imperial servants. Does Young Master Lan look like a servant to you?”

WangJi expects the Nie Sect Leader to scold the boy again, but no such thing occurs. Nie MingJue is staring at Jin ZiXun, the scorn on his face mirroring that of his disciple.  

“General,” Jin GuangShan smiles, “will you allow your disciple to display such poor manners in front of the Emperor?”

A clamor from the back of the hall saves Nie MingJue from having to answer the accusation.

“Move!” a furious voice snaps from the middle of the crowd.

They part to show Jiang WangYin striding forward, two of the Emperor’s guards behind him. For the first time, the Emperor’s face shows something other than cool indifference. He leans forward slightly, his lips parted in anticipation.

“We found them,” Jiang WanYin says without preamble, “The two servants who had set the tables and set out the cups are both dead. Their throats were slit, and their bodies stuffed in the stairway of the old north-west watchtower. Gr-- the Head Healer estimates that they could not have been dead for long. Four hours at most. Their rooms are being searched as we speak.”

The Emperor leans back, his face growing cold again.

“Where was Young Master Lan at that time?” Jin GuangShan says, “I seem to remember him being absent when the Fan Sect Leader fell ill.”

“He was with me,” Nie MingJue says coldly.

“The Jin Sect seems determined that the Lan Sect is at fault,” a soft voice comes from the back.

WangJi recognizes the voice immediately. He does not have to turn around and look to be sure.

“Such a curious thing to keep insisting,” Jiang YanLi says gently, “in the face of all the evidence to the contrary. Perhaps I should mention that the Second Young Master was with me, before someone thinks to accuse him as well.”

“Lady Jiang,” Jin GunagShan says, “I am only trying to be helpful.”

Nie HuaiSang snorts, and Jin GuangShan whips his head around as if someone had pinched him.

“You--“ he bursts out.

No other words come. He has belatedly realized who, exactly, he is speaking to, and in what tone of voice.

Nie HuaiSang, casually leaning against the Emperor’s seat, now slowly and deliberately closes his fan. He is staring at Jin GuangShan with a singular focus, as if challenging him to continue.

Jin GuangShan’s mouth opens and closes. His face begins to turn purple.

“A-Sang,” the Emperor says, “Do you have something to add?”

“The Lan Sect is clearly the victim here,” Nie HuaiSang says, tapping his fan against the Emperor’s leg, “the cup was placed at the Lan Sect table. The Fan Sect Leader ended up at the table by chance. The poison was not intended for him, it was intended for the person whose seat he was occupying.”

It seems to take everyone a few moments to make the connection.

“But this--” Jiang FengMian says, looking lost, “Why would someone try to poison Lan WangJi?”

A hush falls over the hall.

WangJi has no interest in the details of the attempted poisoning.

Why would anyone be so quick to accuse XiChen of committing a crime, after seeing him do nothing more dangerous than pour a cup of tea? Those who despised them had never seemed to need a logical reason.

For the first time since leaving the South Lakes courtyard, he feels no fear at all, but a deep, bone-crushing relief. He is so stupidly grateful that someone had tried to kill him. Unless they mean to accuse XiChen of trying to poison his own brother, they must recognize that he is innocent in this matter.

As if hearing his thoughts, Wei WuXian stands up, “Please rise, Young Master Lan. You are no longer under suspicion.”

WangJi does not know how long his brother has knelt on the hard floors, but he knows that XiChen would not want the others to see him stumble. He steps forward to offer assistance, but the Nie Sect Leader is already by his brother’s side, lifting him up.  

“High Councilor,” Wei WuXian says, “You will investigate this throughly. Please inform all our guests that the competition will be postponed. No one is to leave the Immortal Mountain City until the persons responsible for this incident are discovered and brought to justice.”

Only after the Emperor has departed the hall, does WangJi realize that the entire time, Wei WuXian had had not looked at him at all.

[seostudios]

GEEK CHARMING: MARK LEE

pairing: mark lee x fem!reader genre: rom-com, fluff, angst, comedy info: high school!au, film-club-kid!mark, diva!reader, non-idol!au, mentions of other members (principle!sicheng, car!jeno, student-body-president!doyoung,  film-club-kid!johnny, film-club-kid!jungwoo) synopsis: You are Yonsei Academy's peachy princess, having the best boyfriend, the most fashionable friends of mos, always updated with the latest trends in fashion. But you come face-to-face with your own personal creature-self-professed film nerd, Mark Lee, when you scratch your Holli crystal-embellished ROSANTICA purse. In exchange for her purse repair she let Mark film her for his high school popularity documentary. Reluctantly, you let low-class Mark into your A-list universe, and you are stunned to discover that nerds can be pretty awesome at times. However when your pro-claimed, boyfriend charming prince dumps you flat, your life and social status drops. Would you still win Spring Formal Queen at Yonsei Academy now? Will Mark win the Annual Film Festival?  Could even you put together the pieces to bring back your happy-ever-after, with Mark 's help? warnings: swearing, mention of alcohol word count: 7.5k tag-list: @count-your-shadows​ @jimjamjaemin @minaczennie @renjunvinates @pervieve @rjoonie @marksrainbow@commentgirl @rarestgrace @08skrr @bangtanismylifw @traashytae @superheros-and-others @johnnysnipple @00-baejin-05

a/n: this is the longest writing piece i’ve written yet on this blog and it’s inspired by a disney movie?! behold geek charming starring mark lee. your local film club nerd entering the school’s prissy princess’s life but did that make her finally turn back from her arogant ways or did it make her more of a bitch!! >_< i’m actually so happy

"I'm proud to announce this year's Annual Yonsei Spring Formal Queen Kang-" 

"Hello? Y/n? Snap out of it." Your train of thought quickly crashed as you direct your attention to the student body president, Kim Doyoung. "Y-Yes?" You ask, straightening your posture. "I asked if you are applying for Spring Formal Queen?" He put a question to, waiting for a response. Viewing as you turn to Sooyoung, who delivers you a pen, jerking it out her hand, you grab the clipboard from the plastic table in front of you, signing your signature on to the paper. Making sure your sign was large enough to cover most slots of the page. 

"Toodles," You sang to Doyoung before you and the girls walk away. “Next!”

The three of you strut down the narrow hallway, Sooyoung and Yuna trailing behind you, "This year is going to be our year ladies," you look over on both sides to see them smiling wide grins enveloping onto their lips, as they stopped to walk at your pace, "Once I'm crowned Queen of the Spring Formal, it's guaranteed I'm the well-liked, prettiest and just overall the best here at Yonsei," you finish halting your steps at the door frame of the cafeteria. Looking over your shoulder, you make a gagging motion with your finger to the pack of hungry students. In front of you three, you decide to walk through the tables showing the two lingering behind how you'd win the students' heart if you already haven't.

Walking by a table with miniature stage set-ups, you see three students huddled together revising a script "Drama kids," You start "They'll be an easy vote seeing how they just adore my dramatic gestures," Making your way down a couple more tables "Film club nerds..." You start to roll your eyes coming up with a reason why they would vote for you. "You're like a movie star to them," Sooyoung quickly interjected watching as your flip your head to pose.

You stride down some more, "I can't believe you used to be friends with Shin Ryunjin." Yuna throws in as you walk by the stage crew table. "I know right," Sooyoung agrees. "It's a burden I carry, but at least I traded up to you two." You say earning beaming smiles on both sides.

"Y/n!" Someone called, skipping happily towards you. It was Jisoo. "I got bangs since you said they would suit me! I couldn't agree more, thanks!" She beams, "Of course, just want the best for you!" You smile, reciprocating the energy she gave off until she walks off to her friends. "See? People know I care. This will be a piece of cake."  You said before stopping in your tracks to see, Jung Wonyoung; your biggest competition at Yonsei Academy. Yuna and Sooyoung see you as someone superior to them (right?). As a higher-ranked princess here at Yonsei you shouldn't let such a wretched thing like Jung Wonyoung get to you, especially with that tacky head-band she decided to pair with her uniform. But what good candidate for Spring Formal Queen would you be without a little competition, winning was a given but winning unopposed is an embarrassment. The girls notice your stink-eye towards the table and rather than letting yourself get angered in front of your girls, you oppose chatting in the most unaffected way you could muster up. "Whatever, we all understand who's gonna be crowned Queen, why let someone who pairs blue polka-dot headbands with navy plaid uniforms get in my way?" They hum in response as you two make your way to the popular table.

Yuna and Sooyoung took their seats in front of Jihoon, your lovely, amazing, perfect boyfriend, as you walked around to sit next to him. "Hi baby," He said, which sounded scripted but, you paid no attention to since he was your prince charming! His looks over-looking his flaws, you leave a small kiss on his cheek before digging into your meal.

You are finished your meal, getting up and walking to the bin to throw. On your way back you- BAM! Right on the chest, you are greeted with the expired milk the canteen provides having it spill all over your chest,  drenched. "Ugh!" You cry, a boy in front of you with his lunch tray now on the floor, his hair scruffed up with a school-provided bow-tie. "You- You geek!" You bark as he is taken aback with his words, but he isn't afraid. "You are so gro-oss!" You shout emphasizing the word gross he's already tired of your shit and it hasn't even been a minute since your first encounter. Without hesitating he relates "Actually gross is one syllable-", "I don't care just go- just go read a book or something, you nerd!" You argue not wanting to hear what he has to say before marching away out the cafeteria.

The boy watches as you make your way out the commissary. He kicks his tray to the side, walking back to his table with a glint of annoyance struck onto him.

"Dark Victory of course. It stars Bette Davis, George Brent and most importantly Humphrey Bogart from Casablanca." Jungwoo said swiftly to the two geeks in front of him. Johnny, the only one of the three who could properly score a date with the popular kids started a debate on which film from the late 1930s to the early '50s was le Meilleur which is French for  'the best'. "Did you forget The Great Lie? Probably one of Bette Davis's only good films since she has co-starred with the one and only Mary Astor" He argues speedily. "Hello??" Nayeon says budding in between, "A Stolen Life will remain the best film from the 40s, 50s, and possibly forever I will and could go on about-", "Looks like Film Club's assistant president finally showed up," Johnny says cutting off whatever nonsense Nayeon probably had to add to their already ridiculous conversation. "Sorry, I got stuck in traffic with Yonsei's little princess," Mark says with an obvious eye-roll.

"Watch your words Markie,"  Jungwoo quickly told him. "Her dad-"

"Who funds 75% of the school!" Johnny added, Jungwoo turned to his side giving an annoyed stare before looking back in front of him to Mark. "Her dad who funds 75% of the school. Will ruin you if he gets notice of his daughter's uniform being spoiled with the cafeteria's milk from a film geek." He finishes sipping on his water. Nayeon turned to him, "He can get our club shut down within minutes Mark, watch how you talk to her." 

"So what? Like they'll even come close to us." Mark scoffs, "They're like a whole new alien species." The two in front of them nod, but Nayeon is a little too distracted with the tuna sandwich her mom packed her. "You guys is it just me or is the tuna moving..." Nayeon says slapping Marks forearm softly to grab his, then everyone else's attention. Just before she did Mark's attention was already taken by something- or should I say someone else. "Hey Ryunjin," He quickly says waving towards the girl walking by towards the exit, she turns around to wave before heading out. That's where Johnny inquired, "Face it. You and Ryunjin" He brings his hands up and around to make an 'x' with it, "Never gonna happen." He says watching his shoulders sag slightly, "You've been crushing on her since what? 8th grade, and having numerous occasions to ask her out and not doing so. You missed your shot awhile back unless we had a time machine you and name are a no-go." He finished now invested in what Nayeon's sandwich was up to.

"I-I'd go out with you!" Nayeon says dropping the sandwich into Johnny's hands. "Look, I don't even have time for dating why would I even ask Ryunjin out? I'm cool with being known by her. Plus there's no way I'd do it now, the school board's Annual Film festival is only a little over a month away, I'm our school's candidate how do I mess up because I was distracted by some girl with purple highlights" He said flat-out ignoring Nayeon. "That's true," Johnny says leaning in, "And you are our school best shot at bringing home that huge ass trophy, what's the other prize again?" Jungwoo said agreeing before taking a bite of his pasta. "It's a summer getaway to a Hollywood film camp, I gotta win," Mark said signing the application forms he had in his pocket. "I'm supposed to be a cinematic genius, so what better to do than murder the competition and bring home a trophy after going on a getaway trip to Hollywood to better my knowledge I'm gonna be like the Frank Capra or Victor Fleming around here!"

Johnny grabs Marks's application form to read the requirements, "You have to document something and make it worthwhile..." He read aloud, "What's the documentary about?" Jungwoo asked, "I have no idea." Mark said before snatching the paper. "He has no idea...." Jungwoo whispered almost inaudible in disappointment. Mark writes down ideas on the back of the paper while discussing it with Jungwoo, "So," Johnny starts, "Wanna go out with me?" He said. "No." Nayeon answers strictly as if she was waiting to reject the boy who's attention was back onto her tuna sandwich.

"Anyway, I gotta go hand this into Principle Dong." Mark said witnessing the awkward interaction before getting up and leaving the vicinity

He was playing with the hourglass on his office desk when a knock on the door was heard. "Come in!" He chirped and in came a student. "Ah, Mark." He sang motioning the boy to sit down while he took his legs off the desk. "Came to finally hand me those application forms I've been begging your little club to hand over I see." He said noticing the paper in hand. "Haha, Yea," Mark said avoiding eye contact as he brought his hand up to hand the paper. "Can't wait to see what one of my star students has prepared for the Festival." He said opening the folded paper reading aloud, "A documentary about how lunch ladies keep old food fresh, and our bellies full," His voice started off strong going quieter word by word, looking up at him. "Yeah, you know how the lunch ladies always give us the same green looking sauce every day, or the same batch of oatmeal cookies from months back, every time we sink our teeth into it. It tastes fresh! I've always wanted to know and I think it'd be a cool thing to find out" Mark your blabbering, Is what Principle Dong wanted to tell him so he'd shut up. He didn't want a lame documentary about something to make his school look bad in to be put out in front of dozens of other schools. "Mark." He stops the boy, "Your artistic vision is lunch ladies?" He asked. "Yes, NO! But yes? I'm struggling I can't come up with a good topic that's not gonna bore students and teachers." Mark said. Mr.Dong could see how strongly Mark expressed his struggles with a mere school contest, he probably wants that prize more than anything. He knows he shouldn't help him, since it'd be unfair but he wasn't gonna let him put out something that can ruin his reputation. "Stop playing safe Mark. Challenge yourself by widening your perspective maybe instead of documenting lunch and stuff that you know will bore people and try going after something to catch their attention." Mark's eyes slowly open as he looks up to Principle Dong nodding understandingly "Alright I get it, I get it" He says before clasping his hands together. Mr.Dong sees his improvement and instead of picking another student to compete he can rely on Mark who's now being ushered out the room by him, "Now don't forget I need a new proposal by tomorrow." He said before shutting his door.

"Dude I know exactly what Mr.Dong was getting at,"  Jungwoo tells him. Their school day was over about two hours ago and now they were at their part-time job, at Yong's, a popular little cafe in the middle of a jam-packed shopping mall. "Something challenging...like I don't know maybe a certain diva you encountered during lunch?" His eyes lit up, looking over his shoulder to look at a grinning Jungwoo who flipped his non-existent long flocks of hair like he was the diva. "You're a genius!" Mark said now ecstatic, but quickly going back to his little stressed self, "No, but then how am I gonna convince her?" He said placing his hand up under his chin. 

The bell rings by the entrance, which meant there was a costumer quickly brushing off crumbs from a cupcake he snuck in he turns around to see his proposal for the Film Festival itself. You looked different, you were wearing a pair of plaid pants with a tightly fitted black turtleneck, accessorized by dangling earrings, a heart pendant necklace and a simple gold chain. Your face was quick to cringe after seeing who was about to take your order, "Ugh It's you." You spit looking him up and down, he doesn't look too bad out of school you thought before handing one of the many many bags of clothes to your father's butler. "Here Minho, get a seat for us, please," You tell him watching him rush to one of the many empty seats. "Hi, Welcome to Yong's what can I get for you today?" Mark asked, tone sounding uninterested. "Shouldn't you be happy to see me? I am a miraculous sight for sore eyes," You said getting a half-suppressed laugh from Mark. "Anyway, I would like a grande green tea latte. one pump classic, nonfat, 6 enormous scoops of matcha, 195 degrees, and ABSOLUTELY NO FOAM." You finish, right before starting back up again, "And,  I would like a venti caramel frappe with extra caramel drizzle." You finish finally reaching into your purse to pull out your (dad's) card. When you go to hand the card you see not only Mark but also Jungwoo looking at you, mouths open, jaws almost touching the floor. "Did you not get it? Do I have to repeat my order or something?" You say with a hint of irritation, "Ah- No. Sorry it'll  be 15.50" Mark said averting his gaze from you.

After paying you, tell Mark, "bring it to my table will you?" before walking off to Minho.

"Dude go," Now's Mark's time to actually shine. He makes sure the drinks are perfect knowing ruining them could ruin his entire attempt.  He strides along between the tables finally towards your booth handing you both your drinks. But Mark just stood there, you motioned with your hand as you would to stray animals. "Why are you just standing there, go do your job?" You said already bothered, "Nope, I have a proposal for you.", "Whatever it is, No." You said not even wanting to hear what he's got to say, "I'm gonna ask anyway." He said towering over you and you seated butler. "I want you to star in my movie for the Film Festival this year," You look up, surprised an obvious smile dancing over your lips. "What's it about?" You asked still not sure, "You! I'll have to document your lifestyle til the Spring Formal." Mark said. You bit your lip not knowing to go through or not, but it was a nice ego boost, having someone film your daily life, letting everyone know you got the best friends and most fashionable friends, a prince-charming and a purse worth more than your teacher's salary. Jung Wonyoung, who's also a runner up for Spring Formal Queen having the football team paint her posters and make pins but what's that compared to a freaking movie documenting your life...Winning this year is gonna be easier than expected. "Deal," You said, Mark, cheers a little too loud before bringing his hand out to shake, you reject kindly before letting him know "Don't look like a freaking weirdo at school though. We can start tomorrow at lunch," You finish before seeing him run off to Jungwoo.

Finally home being able to rest from begin outrageously gorgeous today you skip down to your bedroom, hoping into the shower then changing into a more comfortable attire. As of now you were in the middle of your bed doing some homework before the phone went off, it was a notification from Ryunjin, she tagged you in an Instagram post of you and her when you were younger. Your mom took that photo on the first day of grade school back when you and Ryunjin were inseparable. Mom died later that same year and it was heartbreaking but you were stronger than that you knew you shouldn't pity yourself, or have others pity you simply because she passed away, she wouldn't want you to be like that. 

It was a brand new day and Mark was in the principle's office, don't worry this star is nowhere near in trouble when Mark hands in his proposal. "This is marvellous, I can see the growth Mark. Please keep me updated,"  Mr.Dong said watching Mark skip away cheerfully to lunch, where he'd meet you. Fridays at Yonsei were known as the only days of the week students didn't have to wear uniforms to school which often made them pull together a swagger (Johnny's words not mine) outfit for the rest of the school to see. Mark wasn't one to dress up on these days so today he decided to wear his black and blue striped t-shirt paired with black denim jeans,  his black hair parted in the middle this time. He did not look like a film kid. He looked like he belonged to sit beside you, "Hey" you were busy opening up your lunch when he stood behind you with his camera. "Oh-" In all honesty, you thought he'd be wearing baggy trousers and a worn-out shirt but you were filled with joy to see him looking presentable to you. "Hey, sit." You said to him, "I'm gonna just cut to the chase and record..." He said fiddling with the camera for a minute too long, "A few rules before you point that thing in my face," you started as he lifted his face to see you, "Absolutely no filming my left side, no hanging a minute later after filming I need you out of my sight when I hear you say cut." You were strict but not so sure if you meant it. He gave you a thumbs up before clicking record.

"So, Y/n why are you so determined to be Queen at the annual Spring Formal" Mark asked zooming in and out for a few seconds finally focusing, "Because it ensures permanent popularity and I can't fall from my throne can I?" You ask, "Aren't you already popular?" He asked looking up from the camera confused, "Companies at the top of the list don't need to advertise but they do it because..?" , "They need to stay at the top of the list," Mark says understanding where you were getting at. "Exactly, it's not easy to be popular like me nowadays," You say placing your hair behind your ear, "So not easy being like Y/n" Yuna said, Sooyoung agreeing. "Girls not now, this is my time-" , "Actually if they wanna add something they-", "Being popular isn't something you can just fool around with, it's like royalty to us hormonal teens. It's not easy, I gotta live up to these beauty standards, and be on my A-Game whenever." You finish. Not knowing what to say next you smile at the camera hoping Mark would do something- anything but suddenly your knight in shining armor is here- Jihoon takes a seat next to you. "Oh Babe!" You say kissing his cheek; making sure it was on camera. "Only 10's can get date 10's like Jihoon, we're perfect for each other!" You express, but Mark snickers to the scene unfolding behind you watching Yuna and Sooyoung roll their eyes at that certain sentence. "Are you coming to my game today?" Jihoon asked, before noticing Mark. "Why is there a fucking geek near us," He barks but you quickly come to the save. "Ji, we went through this. Mark here is going to be making a movie on how I win Spring Formal Queen." You say, gripping his hand slightly so he could get the memo. "He better not show up to my games", "Never, just eat." You said as he glares at the boy. "Alright, and cut." Mark said before getting up, "Thank you." 

"So...you don't have a job?" Mark asked filming you going through a bunch of clothes, you shake your head no. "You just shop til' you drop huh?" He asked amused at your simple lifestyle, "Of course, now don't come in here this is a school film." You said going into the change room. "Here she comes," You cheered (for yourself) minutes after changing into a short black skirt which was most definitely breaking dress code and a tight white long sleeve which had a deep cut in the back. Mark's mouth is slightly agape seeing you, you were gorgeous indeed he thought. "So tell me what it's like to be...." He trails off trying to find a synonym for the popular " Amazing? Well, there are levels of popularity, at the top moi, and at the bottom..you." You said giving him a grisly glare."Ou! Love these!" You acclaim to a pair of black heels, "Hate these." You say to a set of hot pink ones beside them. "I have two of these!" You declare cheerfully at a pair of white heels which shimmered with sparkles; definitely your style. "How do people get popular?" Mark asked, ignoring your admiration over ridiculously cruel footwear. "Well some are just born with it," You say then go in closer, covering your mouth in a whisper action, "But some gotta follow the diva's around for it." You said, clearly talking about Sooyoung and Yuna.

"Gonna try these on, out Geek," you said to Mark who was almost walking in there with you. "Oh- right sorry!" He said now moving over to your two (deemed) friends. "So, since she's not here... " Mark started  getting the camera up to focus on the two, "Do you have anything about Y/n you can spill?" He asked, "Like, does your popularity only come from following her around," Yuna was quick to fire back, "We may not be as popular as Y/n, but we do know some secrets..." She trails off letting Sooyoung start. "Like when Y/n doesn't get her way, she has the biggest hissy fit,", "And Jihoon is only with her cause he likes the attention, you know to she makes him feel better about himself," Mark couldn't understand how your two announced friends were fundamentally spilling everything about you to an insignificant camera and film nerd. "Behold!" You squeal opening the curtains, to reveal your outfit (which admittedly, had Mark's jaw drop). You were some-what dress shopping for the Spring Formal and you saw this magnificent dress, a silk orchid dress which fell all the way down to your knees frilling at the bottom. The right amount of skin and the right about of puff! You thought; pairing it up with black heels, "God, I look fantastic. What do you think?" You ask the three in front of you, "You-I think you look great!" Mark said the camera to his side, "Film!" You shouted suddenly, as he ponderously brought the camera back up. "Ladies?" You ask the two behind Mark, "You look so good!", "Agreed." They say. The four of you voted to get smoothies before departing and you were ever so willing to pay for all four, "So popular people can't hang out with... nerds?"  He asked filming you sip on the mango smoothie, "Of course we don't," He moved on, placing the camera down to take a sip out of his smoothie thinking there wasn't too much to embellish on, although you continue. "It's better that way, no interference. Why would a dime like me hang out with a nickel?"  You asked oh so wisely which made Mark mumble a WTF. "See, if you two were to go out... The school would go mad as a hatter and it's not gonna end well on both ends." Yuna adds you look to her in the seat beside you, giving her a warning look to 'not talk this is my movie' as she sinks in her seat. Mark sees the silence as an opportunity to ask a question from his cue cards filled with questions that would have something engaging, after finding something to grab not only your attention but the audience about to watch this's attention, he springs the question on you. What if you don't win Spring Formal Queen? "What if I don't? That's not a question, of course, I will? If I don't my life will be over!" You said sliding your drink aside stressing the word over. 

It was in the late hours of the evening and Mark was confined inside his bedroom, editing and stressing. How was this a high school documentary? She only cares about herself, 'fashionable' friends, and prince charming, in which two out of the three didn't even care about her. Maybe she's like this because of what it's like at home? He thought questioning about your at-home life was. Does she have a deep heart-aching past which makes her act like such a nuisance? Nah who am I kidding this isn't some movie. His night was mostly spent, under his blanket with a laptop screen shining into his eyes (probably the reason why he has contacts). 

Saturdays were beach days. That's what Jihoon always said. You'd meet him at the beach where all the (popular) kids from school would go on Saturday mornings, not to sun-bathe but to attend the main volleyball matches would be held. The teams were unauthorized, but for the student's entertainment, our Yonsei's official volleyball team would pick Saturday mornings for a friendly event against Joongdong High. You texted Mark beforehand to meet you there which took him a minute to agree on, but only if he brought his friends, Johnny and Jungwoo. "Hey, you're late!" You tell the boy who's jogging towards you with his tiny camera, you look behind him to see a taller fellow, "And you brought  friends..." You said uninterested and rather irritated, "I'm gonna help Mark, so you look extra beautiful today Y/n!" He quickly said chiming in; his effort in pleasing you was extraordinary. You give him a small smile before nodding. You look beside Mark to see a familiar face, "Johnny!" You cheer before embracing the boy, "Hey Queen Bee" He joked, as you slap his arm jokingly. You and Johnny's dads are business partners, which often made you two spend time together growing up so, in your world, Johnny was your only nerd. Mark just awkwardly stands the before Johnny scatters away with Jungwoo for soda cans, but Mark follows you. Mark was busy filming your little interactions with Jihoon before catching a glimpse of his Ryunjin. He thinks to himself, I can put the camera down for a second, before jogging to Ryunjin, who was getting a soda from the vending machine. "Hey," He said awkwardly. "Hi Mark, didn't come across to you being a beach guy..." She responded laughing at his getup in the hot climate. "OH, I'm just filming for Y/n." He stated catching 'O' shape form on her lips before they start talking casually. You back away, momentarily from the crowd to give yourself a little break, being gorgeous is a workout, you thought, before snickering. You look to your right to see Mark in the distance talking to a brown-haired girl, noticing the purple highlights, hidden between her locks, you realize it's not some rando,  it's Ryunjin. I have to get him out of there. You don't really think before grabbing a spare volleyball to flinging it over the crowd to Mark's head. Running over you ignore the girl aiding Mark, "Are you okay? You look okay. We don't have time for breaks." You said sternly before grabbing his arm and sprinting as fast as you could in a pencil skirt and orange stilettos.

"God, your so lucky I was your knight in shining armour out there. Saved you from your utterly wretched flirting." You tell Mark posing for the camera he set. "Flirting? What, no. Why would I flirt with Ryunjin?" He demanded panicked that you might do something knowing you. "Oh please, your crush on Ryunjin is way more obvious than Wonyoung's fake gold." You said adjusting the skirt you had on. "Can't believe I used to be her friend," You mutter, which he caught onto quickly, "Wait, what?", "Yea, in elementary but look at us now, way out of her league, she's almost at the bottom of the list with her, 'I'm in a rock band' getup." You spit before posing dramatically. 

You sit at the bench in front of the now, empty parking lot. Jihoon ditched you for 'pizza with the boys' to celebrate their victory along with the two friends who just needed to tag along for the sole purpose to tell everyone they hang out with the volleyball team during their free time. "Hey," Mark said sitting down beside you, "They left me and took my car." You say recalling Jihoon asking for your keys to drive to the pizza place. "Now I'm stuck here, do you have a car Mark, let's go somewhere." You whined quietly watching as Mark put his camera away, grabbing your hand to bring you away. "This is Jeno." Mark says, pointing to his Silver 1965 Oldsmobile, "He's getting old but isn't vintage a style you princesses adore?" He asked, chuckling before telling you to get in. "Spot on Film Geek!" You praise, before hopping in. You notice from the corner of your eye a group of kids from Yonsei walking by, you duck down, hiding from them "What are you doing now?" Mark asked confused, before noticing the batch walking down and taking a turn. "Okay Miss Popular, they're gone." He said a little insecure this time giving you a dry laugh. You notice from the corner of your eye a group of kids from Yonsei walking by, you duck down, hiding from them "What are you doing now?" Mark asked confused, before noticing the batch walking down and taking a turn. "Okay Miss Popular, they're gone." He said a little insecure this time giving you a dry laugh. The car failed Mark this time, and not wanting to break the already broken car he tells you "Let's bus it, this car isn't going to start anytime soon,", "What? No way I'm going inside a jam-packed van just for it to stop a block away from my place!" You argue. "God why don't you quit this diva act and just face were gonna walk back which is probably a little over two hours I know you won't ever do or take a thirty-minute bus ride which you should consider knowing your so-called prince took.", "What did you just call me? A diva? Hello?? I'm a star in your film!" You bark, now furious at the boy, "No. You are a stuck-up, arrogant, annoying brat who's in my film." He fired-back. No remorse at all. "You're-You're fired!" You shout. "No, this is my film you don't do the firing!" He said back, "Don't care, I'm the star here and I say you're fired!" You finish before he grabs your wrist, "Oh please I'm the only one who demands are going to be valid and I say you're fired." Mark finished walking away from the bus-stop down the street, leaving you alone and forced to call a cab.

Mark thinks he hit jack-pot, finally getting rid of you. "It's not too late to change projects right?" He tells himself on that gloomy Monday morning, combing his hair with his fingers in the mirror before going downstairs to eat breakfast. Here he was, eating a bagel in Principle Dong's office. "I'm afraid you can't Mark," He said towards the boy. 

"Hello! Yonsei!! It's me your future Spring Queen! Y/n! You want to better the halls of Yonsei? Vote for me, I'm sweet just like candy!!" You shout, the crowd you have in front of you, this was your way of campaigning. "Out of my way," Wonyoung says, grabbing the mic, to advertise and get people to vote for her. As per usual, she one-ups her opponent; you. "Oh my god, Y/n thanks for the advice on flirting, I finally got Wooseok to go with me for Spring Formal," Jisoo said, from behind making you turn with a happy smile, "So I can count on your vote?" Her smile faded quick, she mumbles a little something, before stuffing her face with the homemade cookie's Wonyoung provided, quick to run away.

It was almost the end of the school day and you were stuck in literature recapping on how to write proper paragraphs before your end of the year essay. You notice a semi-familiar face, Nayeon. You know she and Johnny are friends, so she must be close to Mark, you thought. You were gonna ask her to ask Mark to meet you but you'd rather not bring more geeks into your already geek-filled life. You read her phone screen that illuminated brightly in the dim-lit classroom. 'The Fifth Element is having a showing tonight,' A group chat called 'Hollywood's Trash' sent in, Mark would definitely be there. Writing down on a sticky note the address provided thankfully you slip it into your binder focusing your attention back on the lesson, this time with a smile.

You and probably the only other person you'd allow in your bedroom with you is Minho. He's been your family's butler for a little over 25 years now and has been with since day 1. Aiding since you unintentionally fell and cut a mark after attempting to bike without training wheels to strengthening you with your mother's passing. Minho was with you when he dropped you off at the very, very empty cinema. "They're probably inside, just wait until it's over which is..." He looks at his wrist, to his watch. "Another 10 minutes," He gives you an assuring smile before reaching over to open the door. "Knock em' dead," He tells you, before driving off. You sit on the sidewalk ledge with a soda in hand, sipping on it here and there until you began to see people walk out. Standing up, you pat down your skirt and look for anyone that resembles Mark. You see a short boy, black-parted hair and a graphic t-shirt paired with baggy trousers. "Mark!" You shout, he looks behind him to see your petite figure run up to him, "Hey," He said confused. "What are you doing right now?" you asked him eagerly, seeing him turn to Nayeon, Johnny and Jungwoo. "Yong's, we are totally digging sugar cookies," Jungwoo said before Mark could open his mouth, you smile leaning in a little closer to the odd trio,  "Mind if I tag along?", "No! Feel free." Johnny said, grabbing your forearm to drag you along. 

"God how can you guys drink those dreadful things," Nayeon said watching Johnny and Jungwoo gulp down smoothies. You and Mark already finished your drinks a while back, "Nayeon you do know, smoothies have a health glow about them? They’re often a fundamental part of cleanses, and they’re ubiquitous at health food stores and health-centric restaurants. And the smoothie trend is still going strong. Workout studios serve them up post-class, dietitians preach their powers and fit celebrities tout their nutritional prowess. The fruits used at Yong's are fresh and have antioxidant and anti-inflammatory benefits with low-sugar, employee's here have also learnt to provide fibre, calcium and vitamins A, C and K they add dark leafy greens like spinach or kale. "Y/n what the fuck??" Nayeon said. You stare at her dumbfounded... Have you said the wrong thing? Were you wrong?

It's still the early hours of twilight, and you are still wandering with Mark and his friends, roaming around the lit-up town. "So, since when did you get so smart?" Mark asked. The two of you were walking delayed to get a chance to talk after your dispute. "What do you mean I've always been like this," You said, a little offended he thought that low of your academic abilities. He mutters a 'wow' before continuing "Well I thought pretty diva's like you only cared about popularity and crowns," He said poking fun at our egotistic side. You gasp before laughing, "So you think I'm pretty?" You sneakily stated which made the boy stutter like crazy, he couldn't answer back without the rosy tint on his cheek growing so you continued on with a little heartfelt apology in hopes he'd continue the documentary. "Look I was hoping you'd let me hire you back to finish this stupid film," You started smiling eye-to-eye hopefully, "You mean, I could hire you back?" He said. "Yes, whatever. Just continuing this- whatever" you pointed at him, then back at you repeating his vigorously "whatever this is.", "Only under one condition, you being a little bossy duchess is not gonna be happening, I like the cool nerdy Y/n I saw at Yong's," He said, which you quickly fired back with 'I'm not a nerd!' You accept your mini defeat against Film Club boy, letting him know you need a ride home before anything. "Alright, get in."

"Wha-What are you doing?!" Mark asked, laughing so much he almost dropped to the floor. You invited him inside after he agreed to drop you off at home. "Making cookies duh!!" You cheer, grabbing all the chocolatey goods from the cabinet. He's quick to pull out his camera and hit record, "Welcome to my Y/n's baking show!" You sang, adding a  trumpet noise (with your mouth). "So, what's the new with you and Ryu?" You ask, sitting beside Mark diving into a very, very unhealthy mess you call a cookie, with Mark. "Nothing really, how are you and Jihoon." You sigh to look over at the spacious living room, Mark understands your silence and understands your having trouble in paradise. "How about I ask some of her band mates- who worship me. If they can ask Ryu to go on a date with you" You suggest to Mark with a soft smile. He looks at you, thoughtfully, "I got someone else on my mind nowadays..." He tells you with a crimson red colour visible on his cheeks. "I-I should get going now it's nearly ten." He says going to grab his things, you nod and walk towards the front door. Maybe some nerds are cool, you thought, before Mark went out. 

3 weeks. You've spent the last three weeks with Mark Lee. Getting to know him, documenting your- I mean our movie. He's been warming up to you, and you've been less of what he liked to call you; diva. You've started flaking out on some dates with the girls, just to film with Mark, you two have learnt more about him through the movie nights you spent over at your place after filming. He's really cool and you're grateful you stopped clowning around to know him.  Today you went over to Mark's place extra early since you wanted to give him a makeover. His dorky striped tees were getting old and you'd like to see him rock the nice clothes in his closet you knew he had. "Wear this, this and OH! Make sure to put these to use." You say handing him a pair of khaki pants, a yellow shirt, patch denim jacket and a beanie to wear. It was beautiful to see him actually clean up for once, he almost made you fall for his looks. "If Ryunjin doesn't ask you out, don't mind if I do," You said laughing "Aren't you too busy with Jihoon to look after me?" He said bluntly laughing before stopping to look for a reaction which was nowhere to be found, "Jihoon broke up with me because apparently, I'm a part of the geek team now!" You said chuckling, a hidden sadness underneath. "Hey, don't worry I've been a member of the geek squad for about my whole life I think we roll far better than rich snobs-", "Hey! Take that back I was one of them" You said punching his arm. "Don't worry you're good," He said laughing it off. To be honest his feelings for Ryunjin over the past few weeks have now shifted into distant memories after getting to know the real you. I think Mark's really been feeling lucky he's got you and he knows you're aware who he's got his eyes on now. You're parting his hand, in between his legs as he sits on the stool, his hands were sneaky to make their way to rest on your hips; you hum unaffected, but proceed to part it nice and neatly before ripping his hands from somewhere it shouldn't be.

It was D-Day. Spring Formal was no longer weeks away, it's hours. You had just recently gotten news that Mark's little documentary he's been making about and with you has won first place in the Annual Film Festival, due to this he had won the summer getaway to Hollywood film camp, which by the way, was exclusive. He was lucky, and he aspired and reached his goal like no other, you on the other hand... Let's just say Spring Formal Queen wasn't something you were looking forward to nowadays. But it did feel nice to win something at a party you didn't even bother to attend, you were too busy telling mark farewell at the airport to be at a function that was still being supervised by faculty. "Don't forget to text me, Mark," You tell the boy in front of you. Today Mark is sporting a red and black striped tee with an In The Row Leather Jacket (gifted by who else other than you!) and some dark blue jeans. "Can't believe you missed the fricken' Spring Formal to hang out with the film geek! Ah You really have evolved," He said standing in front of your hands reaching to nothing when he stuffs them in his jean pockets. "You make me sound like those Digimon characters you collect," You say ultimately making him facepalm at your words Digimon? Really Y/n? he thought before going into a fit of giggles, oh why should he correct you anyways you seem so cute."But no, I won't forget." He assures hand reaching out to rub your side. This time spent with Mark is something the old you would've retched at, but the current you? The current you are thankful, Mark helped you go back to your regular self, showing you that you didn't have to be some type of Barbie doll for some; what Mark called rich slobs. You were better than that now, and you had Mark. You've come to realize that Mark Lee isn't just that geek from the film club. He's above that. His place in your hear is indescribable. Who knew he would be the one to make your heart run laps from simple gestures. It's hilarious in a way, you'd be aggravated if he even came into your vicinity but now you'd be anticipating his visit.

"Mark," You start, watching his eyes light up at you call him. Your eyes meet, looking into one another's dark coffee bean orbs. Your gaze was sharp as if lined with shards of glass around the edges, his eyes. God, when your eyes met, you could see the glow in them, it was irresistible. That is when you finally realize, this newly discovered desire you found in yourself, is in Mark. He foresees your next moves bringing a hand up to your cheek, caressing it. "God, you're so beautiful," He whispers watching both of your arms trail up his torso to rest firmly on his shoulder. Leaning in, you finally taste his peach lips. His heart was racing, once he dipped his face down to you. He knew that once he places his soft pink lips on you, he wouldn't want to stop.  Breaking the kiss, you whisper, "Goodbye, Mark." Hand raising to ruffle his hair, "Make me proud out there," You tell him, leaving a less-heated peck on his lips. "Thank you, goodbye Y/n" He wanders off into his designated area before taking off almost immediately pulling his phone out. Is he really that addicted to elec- Oh, your phone rings. He's calling you, "I miss you already," he tells you the moment you answer. "I miss you too." You tell him. "I have to go, my Uber is here." you bit your lip, the words tangling up in the pit of your stomach, should you tell him the eight letters you've been longing to? "I love you, be safe." You look over the crowd to the seat to see him, looking for you. He brings the phone up back to his ear, "I love you too- Fuck so much," It looks like he's been waiting just as long.

Let's just say your happy ending took couple wrong turns but it looks like you finally reached your destination, in Mark's heart.

[damianwaynerocks]

Ghosts in Gotham

Danny Phantom / DC Comics fanfic

Dedicated to: @dannyphantom-justiceleauge

Summary: The Batfamily has been through their fair share of the supernatural. That’s why they originally weren’t worried whenever ghosts started showing up in Gotham City. Until one day, something happens; Batman is captured and taken into the Ghost Zone. With no way to go in there themselves, the no way to fight the ghosts inside, the bats decide to call the person who can; Danny Phantom. Together, Danny takes Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown and Damian Wayne into the Ghost Zone before the Batman is lost forever.

Words: 2032

ch 2 Masterlist

Chapter 1:

-

Every city had its hero.

Gotham City? Batman. Metropolis? Superman. Central City? The Flash.

Amity Park? Danny Phantom.

Amity Park had mixed feelings about Phantom. Some said he was a helper, a true hero, keeping the town safe. Others said he was a criminal, doing nothing but wreaking havoc on the town. Either way, Phantom was known for one specific thing; fighting ghosts.

Which is what he was doing at the moment.

"I am!! The Box Ghost!!" a short, stocky ghost shouted. His eyes glowed blue and an aura of the same color surrounded the boxes crowding the back of a movie theater. "Beware!" he raised his arms and hurled three boxes at a figure who easily dodged.

"Come on, Box Ghost," a teenage boy with white hair and green eyes floating above the ground groaned. "I don't have time for this! I have to order the new Cheese Viking game before it sells out!"

"Beware!" The Box Ghost shouted again, throwing more boxes at the boy.

Danny Phantom rolled his eyes as his body became intangible, the boxes easily passing through it. He raised his arm, and a blast of bright green energy shot from his palm, hitting the Box Ghost square in the chest. The Box Ghost, with a grunt, was blown back into the brick wall of the movie theater.

Not wasting any time, Danny grabbed the thermos that he had strapped to his back and pointed it at the other ghost. In a flash of light, the Box Ghost was sucked into the thermos.

"Finally," Danny muttered as he took off into the sky.

Danny Phantom, his real name being Danny Fenton, was a sixteen-year-old halfa, or a ghost-human hybrid. He could switch between ghost and human form at will. He'd gotten his powers from an accident with the Ghost Portal, a portal in his home that was a bridge between the human world and the Ghost Zone, where every ghost resides.

Ghosts repeatedly escaped the Ghost Zone through this portal for one of three reasons; to wreak havoc on the human world, to kill Danny or both. Usually, it was the latter.

Danny returned to his house, passing through the walls of the building with intangibility and landing in the lab. He switched back to his human form in a flash of light, changing his hair color from white to black and his eyes from green to blue.

His family was made up of ghost hunters- aside from his sister -so they had an entire lab dedicated to ghost technology.

"Back you go, Boxy," Danny said as he released the Box Ghost into the portal. "Finally," he sighed, "Time to get Cheese Viking."

"No!" he shouted five minutes later at his computer. The new Cheese Viking, Danny's favorite game, had sold out.

"Danny!" a large man in an orange jumpsuit burst into the boy's room. "Are you okay!? Are you hurt!?"

"No, Dad, I'm fine," Danny replied to his father, Jack Fenton. "Except for that stupid Box Ghost making me too late to get Cheese Viking!"

He hadn't told his parents about his life as Phantom until he was fifteen. Well, it wasn't Danny who told them. His sister found him in his room passed out with a gaping hole in his side, and she had to tell their parents so they could help him.

Jack paused. "But.. you got him?" he asked cheerily. Danny smiled.

"Yeah. I got him." Jack slapped him on the back.

"Thatta boy!" he said with a grin. "Come on, Jazz got a letter from Wayne Enterprises and your mom wants the whole family to watch her open it!"

Jazz, Danny's sister, had just graduated high school and had applied for an internship at Wayne Enterprises, one of the largest businesses in the world. An internship there would kick-start her career in marketing. That was the reason she claimed, but Danny was sure that part of the reason was that Bruce Wayne, the billionaire who owned Wayne Enterprises, was cute.

"Finally!" Jazz, a girl with long red hair and a blue headband huffed. "I haven't been able to look for three hours! What were you out doing?"

"Uh, my job?" Danny smirked as he hopped over the back of the couch to sit on it. Jazz rolled her eyes.

"Open it, dear!" Their mom, Maddie Fenton, urged. Jazz grinned widely, opening the letter. Her smile grew, and she jumped up and down.

"I got it!" she squealed. "I got it!! I got the internship!!"

"That's great, Jazz!" the other three Fentons exclaimed at once. Jazz seemed to get even more excited as she continued reading the letter.

"And," she continued excitedly, "All the interns are expected to attend the next Wayne Gala with their families! All expenses paid!"

"Yes!" Jack cried. "We're going to New Jersey, baby!" As the entire family celebrated, Danny couldn't help but be suspicious. Jazz had applied late and while she was smart, she wouldn't have been anything special next to the other applicants.

Something was up. _

"So what, you think she only got accepted because of you?" A girl with short black hair raised an eyebrow as they walked through the halls of their high school. "Why, exactly?"

"Because, Sam," Danny responded to his girlfriend. "It's weird. I was looking at the Infi-map, and there's a portal to the Ghost Zone in Gotham that wasn't there a month ago. And get this? It's five miles away from Wayne Manor.”

"You think Bruce Wayne wants you out of the way for some plan?

"It wouldn't be the first time somebody did."

"But how would he even know who you are?" Sam Manson asked, "I mean, there's no way he knows that you're Phantom."

"Um, because he's Batman?" An African American boy walking beside them scoffed as though it was obvious. "Batman knows everything."

Danny and Sam laughed. "Tucker, seriously?" Danny shook his head in disbelief. "That conspiracy? Batman and Bruce Wayne have been seen at the same time in the same place multiple times.”

"Okay, well, you can clone yourself! Who's to say Batman can't? Or maybe it's a hologram! Or maybe it's one of his thousand children in the suit!" Tucker Foley counted on his fingers as he rattled off the various theories. His eyes widened, and he grabbed Danny's shoulders. "Dude, you have to get proof."

"There's no way I'd be able to get close enough to Bruce Wayne to prove anything."

"Then trick him!" Tucker said, his eyes bright. "Most of Bruce's adopted kids are boys with black hair and blue eyes! Just say you're an orphan and I bet he'll be like 'Of course you can stay, I am always down for more children."

"Okay, first of all," Danny began, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder and prying his friends arms off of him. “His son Damian? That kid scares me, he gives off Dash vibes. Did you see how he made that interviewer cry?"

A few months prior, a video had surfaced that showed Damian Wayne insulting a girl who was trying to give him an interview. The two-minute video ended with the girl crying.

"And second of all-" Danny was cut off as he was shoved to the ground. He looked up to see Dash Baxter, a muscular boy with blonde hair.

"Watch where you're going, Fen-freak," Dash sneered, "Before I shove your puny face into a locker!"

Danny gritted his teeth as he sat up. Dash had been picking on him from the beginning of high school. Two years later, he hadn't stopped.

On any other occasion, Danny would have said something in response, but Dash had already continued down the hall.

"Why can't you just zap him or something?" Tucker grumbled. "He's the worst!"

"Yeah, I know," Danny stood up, wiping dust off of his shirt. "But I can't. It isn't right."

"Your moral code is dumb," his friend snapped back.

"If you're going to Gotham," said Sam with a pointed look at Tucker. "Who's gonna be here to help with the ghosts?"

"I've got it covered," Danny replied swiftly, looking up. "Dani's coming down.  It'll be fine. I have to keep Jazz safe, and figure out what Brucie Wayne is up to."

__

"I am sure Father would have a better plan than to invite some under-qualified intern to the Manor."

A seventeen-year-old boy with spiky black hair rolled his eyes. "Damian, she isn't under-qualified. She meets all of the qualifications for the internship."

The first boy, an Arab thirteen-year-old with the same spiky hair and bright green eyes, scoffed. "There is no way a person from some backwater town would have received the internship if we hadn't needed her brother."

Tim Drake and Damian Wayne, the youngest children of Bruce Wayne. Damian currently held the Robin mantle, while Tim used Red Robin. The brothers were in a large cave decked out with a plethora of high-tech equipment.

"Okay, but you think every place outside of Gotham is a backwater town." Tim pointed out as he swiveled his chair to face a massive computer.

"Amity Park is a backwater town. The citizens there are animals," Damian retorted, crossing his arms. "You just cannot see that because you are also a backwater type."

Tim laughed as he realized what the younger boy was basing his opinion on. "Damian, please tell me you haven't generalized an entire city just because of one tourist from Amity Park ran into you and spilled soda on your shirt."

"It was my favorite shirt! And that cretin did not even apologize!" Damian spat. "The nerve!"

"Okay, well, put aside your dumb grudge and think about the objective," Tim responded. "I think, if you look within that thing you call a soul, you can see that letting one intern that you think is under-qualified is worth getting Bruce back."

"Tt. I suppose," Damian admitted begrudgingly. "If this Danny Phantom character truly has the potential to save Father."

"He's the only one who can." Tim reminded him. "We can't get into the Ghost Zone without a ghost, and I don't think any of the ones we've seen so far would be willing to help," He paused. "Plus, don't the Fentons make ghost hunting gear? Who knows, maybe they have a ghost sword."

After a sudden wave of ghost attacks in Gotham, Bruce had poured in countless hours of research to find out as much as he could about ghosts. He had discovered that they came from another dimension and that there was one person who was an expert at fighting them; Danny Phantom of Amity Park. It didn't take very long for him to uncover Phantom's true identity.

"Tim! Dames!" a voice shouted. "My boys!" Tim and Damian looked towards the stairs and saw a taller man with black hair and blue eyes jump the railing of said stairs, landing in the Bat Cave.This was their oldest brother, Dick Grayson, also known as Nightwing. He grinned brightly. "How's it going?"

"Making sure that we have every possible outcome of this mission prepared for." Tim replied as he continued typing on the Bat Computer. Damian nodded.

“Yes, and so I have decided that I shall accompany them on this journey."

"Damian, no." his older brothers said at the same time. Damian scowled.

"Why not? I am plenty capable of-

"Because people would get suspicious if Batman suddenly didn't have a Robin," Dick answered, strolling towards the younger boy. "That's why Jason, Tim, and Stephanie are going. They won't be missed," He gave Tim a nervous look. "No offense."

"None taken," Tim replied, waving his hand. "Sorry Damian, you'd just get in the way."

"But I have died before!" Damian huffed, his hands clenching into fists. "That combined with my skills- which are far greater than yours, Drake, I might add -makes me much more qualified than you."

"Little D, dude, I just told you," Dick ruffled his younger brother's hair. "It'll be suspicious if you're gone. And besides, I need you. We're a great team."

"But my father is in there-"

"Master Damian-" their butler, Alfred Pennyworth, interrupted the trio's squabbling. "You won't be going anywhere until your homework is done."

"Homework? Finding my father is much more important than an essay on why the Roman empire fe-"

"Master Damian." Alfred repeated in a low tone. "Now."

Damian scowled as he trudged up the stairs. It didn't matter how tough the person was. When Alfred told you to do something, you do it. "I will be going with you, Drake!" he called behind his shoulder. "I promise you that!"

Dick and Tim exchanged a glance and rolled their eyes.

"Children."

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #342

“in this farewell, there’s no blood, there’s no alibi  /  ‘cuz i’ve drawn regret from the truth of a thousand lies”

What’s your all-time favourite cartoon? Does anime count? In which case I'd say Fullmetal Alchemist, or the original Pokemon. If we're not including anime, then uhhhh Avatar: The Last Airbender, even though I have much more to go in the series. Have you ever taken dance lessons? What kind? Yeah, I've done a few for many years: jazz, clogging, modern, and hip hop. When did you last run and why? I literally couldn't tell you. I don't even know if I can run with the current state of my legs. My knees would probably crumple. Does your house/flat/whatever the hell you live in need cleaning? Not necessarily cleaning, but sorting. I still have boxes outside and inside my room of my stuff I need to put up somewhere... but whenever I prepare to do it, I just get so overwhelmed and shy away from it. Then there's the spare room, that's a total mess loaded with boxes and the like. Mom and I have just avoided it like the plague. Was your last relationship with a man or a woman? Woman. What do you think your next achievement will be? HOPEFULLY getting a job... Do you like mushrooms? NOOOOOOO. What dream do you remember most vividly? I'm not talking about it. Favorite kind of bread? Pumpernickel. Rabbits or hamsters? Rabbits. I've never met a nice hamster, and I just think rabbits are cuter. A movie you’ve never seen that it seems like every one else has? Harry Potter films. Favorite dog breed? I'm biased towards beagles. When was the last time you climbed a tree? Never, actually. Where I live, there aren't really many weighty trees with low branches. Just pine trees. Most common lie you tell? That I'm "fine" when I'm not. Ever seen your parents make out? Jc no, I'll take a hard pass there. Do you put your hair up a lot or down? It's too short to put up. Most of the time do you straighten or curl your hair? Neither. What piercing do you hate? I'm not a fan of cheek dermals at all, but you do you 100%. Were you raised in a religious house? Yes; I was raised Roman Catholic. Do your parents get mad when you're on the computer for hours? Mom used to for many years until I became an adult and she just realized it was in vain. I haven't lived with Dad since I was a teenager, but when my parents were together, he usually didn't say anything. Have you ever been asked for a nude picture? No, thankfully. I'd stop talking to the person immediately. What would you do if your parent hit you? I honestly feel like I'd slap them back and get the fuck out. Or just freeze in shock and cry. What's your most common mood? Stressed but distracted. Do you like poems? Yeah, usually. Ever kissed someone half-naked? Uh yeah. Have you ever been in a parade? No. Do you still play Pokémon? I play Pokemon GO, and I've actually been tempted to get out my DS and play one of the games I have (I can't remember which). I do find Pokemon games to be VERY grind-ey, though, so I can't play them for too long without getting bored. What is your favorite Pokémon? Ninetales. I also really love Espeon, though, and Charmander will always have my heart. Is there an animal you like that most people don't? Bats! :') Is there an animal that you think is overrated in terms of how it's liked? No animal is overrated. Have you ever "quit" a site and came back to it more than once? Uhhhh I don't think so. Do you have an "odd" fascination with anything? Most would probably consider "vulture culture" to be pretty weird, being drawn to dead animals and all... What's the hardest thing you've been through, & what did you learn from it? The breakup with Jason. I learned that some people make promises they aren't afraid to break, that someone can promise "forever" and not mean it, that the most unexpected can just snap their fingers and forget about you... I learned a lot. And most things, not positive. What are three "unrealistic" things you want most? 1.) To be able to financially support myself by just freelance nature photography; 2.) sooo many different kinds of pets; and 3.) to be totally rid of my mental illnesses. Do you take any daily vitamins? No, but I would if I was the one who bought groceries and stuff. I do however take Vitamin D once a week for my legs. Who are three of your favorite fictional characters of all time? JUST THREE??????? FUCK MAN idk. Uhhh well there's of course Darkiplier and Wilford Warfstache, then uhhh probably Pyramid Head. If you had to give the world a pre-existing mythological/fictional being, what would it be? Idk, I'd really need to be more educated on their lore before I made that decision. Do you have any desire to learn (a) foreign language(s)? Which? I both do and don't want to resume learning German. I got very good at it and could have basic conversations, but lack of application has slaughtered my vocabulary. Now it's like, it'd be nice to try again, but for what purpose? I don't think I'll ever actually apply it to my life, so it just seems like it'd be a load of wasted effort. But then on the other hand, I also feel that doing something you simply want to do isn't a waste of time. Idk. What is one of your firmest beliefs? Equality for all. No race, religion, whatthefuckever makes you more or less valuable than someone else. Do you have anything that keeps you from doing something you'd truly enjoy? Oh yes. Depression and anxiety, mostly. Do you work to fix your faults? Or at least, admit to them? I definitely try, and I'll certainly admit to them. How do you hope the world will change, if at all? I just want more compassion, less violence, more understanding... What is/are your view(s) on god, religion, spirituality, or relations to? In short, I believe that something sentient created the universe, and it/they/he/she/what-have-you just... let life play out from there, I think. I like to believe there's a plane of consciousness like an afterlife that exists, but if not, I don't really care. I hope the evil get what was coming to them, and the good get back what they gave, but maybe we're all better off without life after death. We'll all find out one day. Are you arachnophobic or scared of spiders in the least? Some, yes; others, not so much. This is very situational. Do you play WoW? What do you think of it either way? Haha, you're asking an avid player. I enjoy it, but not as much as I used to. At one point I was a Heroic raider, sometimes dabbling in Mythic, but now I'm just mostly a casual mount collector that likes chatting with my guildies and just doing dailies 'n shit. I owe a lot to the game, honestly; it helped me stay occupied throughout the breakup, and still today gives me something to do. What kind of computer do you have? Windows 7/Vista/XP/Other? I have an Acer Nitro with Windows 10. Are you taking any interesting classes in school/do you not attend? I'm no longer in school. If you don't attend, are you taking any "lessons" for anything? No, but I would like to join a photography course somewhere. A book/piece that has had an exceptional impact on your life? Johnny Got His Gun by Dalton Trumbo just made me hate war more than I innately did. What genres of music are your favorite? Just metal as an umbrella term. Some heavy stuff, some less, some in the middle, some leaning towards other genres... but I just like metal. Do you think that fate plays a part in people's lives? No. Wouldn't "fate" just make it all... worthless? Like we're just storybook characters with a predetermined ending? What are your opinions on the media? One word: manipulative. What's a piece of technology you'd like to own? I REALLY want a PS4, especially lately. There's just a lot of games I REALLY want to play. Are you afraid of technology developing to where we're too reliant on it? We're already *too* reliant on it, which I do believe is a bad thing. I know, absolutely hysterical for me to be talking. What's your favorite odd ice cream flavor? I don't think I've ever had a truly odd ice cream flavor. There's this local place though that makes a kind that tastes JUST like s'mores, and I can fucking murder a cup of that. What's your opinion on stereotypes/labels? They're limiting and devalue uniqueness, imo. I know very, very few people who totally fit a certain stereotype, so why even bother. Like I don't care if you use them as adjectives to some extent, just don't put too much weight on them. Just be you. Do you believe that history repeats itself? It's not necessarily doomed to, but it happens sometimes, obviously. Would you rather learn from your mistakes or just undo them? Depends on the mistake. What was the most interesting class you had in school? Probably Mythology in high school. Do you write? If so, what? Yeah, meerkat role-play. And every now and again, poetry. Do you have a favorite culture? No; I'm not educated on nearly enough to pick one. Do you believe in global warming? Have you researched it? Lol no shit I do. I don't exactly think it takes much research to see with your own two eyes that it's factual. Do you prefer piercings or tattoos? Tattoos, if I had to pick. What comedy movie is your favorite? White Chicks. Have you ever meditated? Yes. Doesn't work for me. What comes to mind when you think of a great moment in your life? Realizing it was my choice to liberate myself and my happiness from my ex. He didn't and never should've carried it, because that's my right. What do you like about springtime? Aaaaall the flowers. <3 How have you handled having to stay in? It's not really different from my average day, so... How would your friends describe you? Quiet and overthinks literally everything. Have you ever hallucinated? When I was coming off a certain med in middle school, I saw black moving shadows. What (or who) is the best thing that ever happened to you? The partial hospitalization program I attended for two months following my suicide attempt. It's where I met my psychiatrist, who set my medication straight. Medicine besides though, I learned so many coping techniques and just how to deconstruct my trauma. As well as possible, anyway. What is the worst decision you ever made? Handing over the ability to make happiness for myself to another person. What is your favorite arcade game? Don't have one. Do you feel neglected? No. What school subject(s) are/were your best? English, Arts, Science. Are you allergic to pollen? Yep. What style of wedding dress do you like best? Probably ballgown. Are you over your first love? I probably never will be in complete totality. Do you always answer your phone? No. I only ever do if I recognize the number. Who was the last person you know to have a birthday? Today is actually my sister's birthday. What song is currently stuck in your head? I have Halocene's cover of "What I've Done" on a loop right now. It has me absolutely covered in goosebumps. Do you ever use coloring books? Not really anymore. Do you personally know anyone who is an author? Not to my knowledge, no. What’s your favorite kind of salsa/dip to go with tortilla chips? Just your normal, mildly hot salsa. Do you wash your car by hand or drive through a car wash? Mom's car hasn't been washed in... well, years, given its bumper. Mom worries that in a car wash, it'll be broken off (it is literally held on with a lot of zip ties and duct tape), and we ourselves don't want to wash it, so... Do you have any uncommon kitchen appliances, such as espresso machines, waffle irons, etc? I know we have one or two, but idk what they're called. What did your parents major/minor in in college, if they went? Dad never went to college. Mom changed her major a few times, but her latest was social work, I believe. Has either of their careers influenced what career you chose or want to pursue? Not at all. What kind of natural disaster is most common where you live? Hurricanes. Why is your least favorite season your least favorite? Because it's hot as fuck and humid. Have you ever had an animal get into your attic? No. When was the last time you started a “new chapter” of your life? I don't know. Hopefully I'll start one soon when I leave PHP and pursue a job... What room in your home do you spend the least amount of time in? I'm always in my room. Do you do anything to reduce the amount of electricity you use? I feel awful admitting I do quite the opposite... Being in the dark during the day affects my depression, so I'll have my lamp (or both) on even if it's just sort of shaded inside. Are you usually open to trying a new food that you aren’t familiar with? Eh, it depends on the food. I'm not very adventurous with foods though. Do you listen to Panic! At The Disco? I do. Have you ever had a kinky dream about a celebrity? ... It wasn't "kinky," but it was a dream lmao. Has anyone ever told you that they loved you, and you couldn’t say it back? That's how I ended the whole Joel childishness. Which friend do you confide in most? My mom. Do you wear a cross? No. What is your favorite doughnut? That's so hard. :( Krispy Kreme's normal glazed though probably takes the cake. I also love chocolate frosted and just totally plain, though. Do you have a hot tub? If so, where is it located? No. Did you read the Twilight series, or jump on the bandwagon after the movie? Neither. Do you or your parents rake your yard? Dad did growing up. Now nobody does or needs to. Who did you last go to the movies with? Dad, I think? What color was the last vehicle you were in? White. Do you have any family members in the military right now? No. Is there a ceiling fan in the room you’re in? Yeah. Have you ever heard voices? No. If you’re not straight, who was the first person you came out to? Sara. Do you remember the first time your first crush ever said hi to you? No. Do you ever go places with wet hair? Yeah, idc. Who is your favorite little girl? My nieces. What do you want the most in life? To feel like I made a difference, even a tiny one. If you could have anyone’s singing voice, whose would you choose? OBVIOUSLY Amy Lee's. What’s the most expensive thing you’ve bought that turned out to be a waste of money? *shrug* What’s something you’ve bought that turned out to be way more useful than you anticipated? Hm. Have you ever been on a ship? No. Would you ever date a disabled person? (Be honest) Yes. Would you rather adopt or have your own child? IF I wanted kids, which I absolutely do not, I'd rather have my own. I know I'd feel a deeper connection. What would you class as cheating on someone? As soon as you do/say something you don't want your s/o to know about, you're cheating. As far as earrings go, would you rather wear hoops or studs? Studs. Do you recycle? Yes. If someone dislikes you, what is most likely to be the reason? People have thought I don't try hard enough before. Do you put a line through your "7"s? Yes. ^ What about your "Z"s? Yes. What are you most known for? My art "skill," at least irl. How do you feel about shameless self-promoting? Depends on when, where, and how. As someone who's trying to be a freelance photographer, I get that it's sadly necessary, but there are some places it's just uncalled for.