#I hope he was able to create some balance in his schedule instead of just adding idol activities onto his already busy workload

[seokwoosmole]

This was so good but like why is the room so small?? These are 7 grown men who are 5'10-6’4 foot tall!!! Literally Zuho was hitting the wall and Rowoon was like eyeing it cautiously whenever he was close to it and it looks like if any of them were to jump, they'd hit their head on the ceiling😭

[paintingwhiteceilings]

Can you do Male Reader X EXO?

So, its basically when either Male reader or an EXO member is struggling with his homework.

❃EXO and helping with your school/uni work ❃

A/N: Heyyy, I am so sorry this took as long as it did. I had to take some time off of posting on Tumblr as I am about to start my graduation process for my RMA. In a way, it was super cathartic to write this prompt so it became a bit of a mix between school and uni work, I hope you don't mind :')

Regarding male x-readers: I try to keep my prompt as gender-neutral as possible, mostly so anyone can insert themselves regardless of whether they identify as male, female, non-binary, etc. However, I am totally open to doing any LGBTQIA+-specific prompts, so feel free to do so!

Xiumin/Minseok:

✾ Considering this man is rumoured to have a PhD (although not specified in what), you would think that he would be an amazing person to have around when you are struggling through your homework/coursework. However, being smart doesn’t always equate to being able to offer understandable explanations.

✾ His brain skips so many steps when he is tackling a problem or working on an essay. He knows why something is right or wrong, but he can’t really explain how he got to his answers. It comes so naturally to him that he struggles to dissect his thought processes and convey them to someone else.

✾ Ultimately, he will convince you to email your teacher/professor; they can explain it much better than he can, anyway. After having corresponded so often with professors during his own studies, he is more than capable of helping you with formulating your email in such a way that they would agree to help you out.

✾ Still, after having studied as much as he has, he understands the struggle of keeping up with homework/coursework. Considering he got his degrees whilst being an idol, he is incredible at planning his work efficiently. Thus, he instead offers to help you with creating a schedule, giving you a more healthy work-life balance.

Suho/Junmyeon:

✾ Well, considering that he has an MA in Cultural Management and talked at Stanford (plus it has been proven time and time again that Suho is incredibly intelligent), he is one of the best members to go to if you ever struggle with your homework/coursework. He strikes me as someone who, although they are incredibly smart, can explain his inner thoughts very well.

✾ Give him a whiteboard, and he will shine. Don’t ask me why, but I can totally imagine him being one of those people that is convinced that “you have to visualize things. Write it down to have more space in your head to think.” Does that work? Maybe. Is it annoying to be told time and time again to “just draw it”? Yes.

✾ If he isn’t familiar with the topic/class that you are struggling with, he will take time out of his busy schedule to familiarize himself with it. He will find a couple of sources or a handbook so that he can read up on it.

✾ A part of him enjoys studying and learning together, smiling the entire time as you do so. Despite your own stress on why you can’t seem to work through the problem/assignment, you can’t help but return his quiet enthusiasm.

Baekhyun:

✾ Another member who went to university to get his degree (although I can’t find out whether he has a BA or MA, sources are so incredibly vague) and is probably used to studying whilst being unbelievably busy. Furthermore, Suho has said before that although Baekhyun tends to be the mood maker of EXO on camera, Baekhyun is a deep thinker and has many philosophical conversations with him in private. Therefore, I can imagine him being another member who would be good at conveying his thoughts very well, offering you a coherent explanation.

✾ He would be an expert on making studying fun. Instead of having to cram a bunch of facts or read a long dry article for your next class, he would find a way to gamify it, turning it from a long boring study session into a fun competition. Although he might not be a huge help regarding the content of your class, he would help you to keep your motivation while studying.

✾ At the same time, I can totally see Baekyhun being a massive distraction while studying. You will be trying to solve a problem or work on that lengthy essay, and Baekhyun keeps trying to get you to pay attention to him, as he is too restless to sit still and study. He strikes me as someone who tries to convince you to do it tomorrow instead.

Chen/Jongdae:

✾ He has an MA in Media Advertisement so you can bet that he can sell a story. I am pretty sure Media Advertisement falls under either business or communication studies, so he will probably be not too shabby at statistics either. He will, therefore, not only sell you on why studying this particular subject is fun, but he will also be able to help you actually study the contents of most math-based subjects.

✾ Chen probably is too busy to delve deeply into the subject matter that you are trying to grasp, though. He will try, nonetheless, to work through it with you. He will sit next to you as you try to solve equations, and although he might not have mastered the theory himself, he will try to learn it with you, giving you a fresh set of eyes.

✾ I think rather than being incredible at explaining stuff, he would be an amazing person for emotional support. I can see him prioritize calming you down first and having you take a step back from studying to clear your head. He would make sure that you stay hydrated and fed while studying, preparing a bunch of snacks beforehand that he will hand out as a reward for making it through another chapter.

Chanyeol:

✾ Am I tired of repeating myself and saying “This member is smart because they got their degree”? Yes. Am I insanely impressed with most of EXO going to university whilst balancing their studies with a full-time idol career? Yes, and I will never shut up about it. Anyway, yeah Chanyeol went to university bla bla, making him, not just smart, bla  bla, but also hard-working, bla bla. You know the drill.

✾ Regardless of whether Chanyeol is well-studied in the field you are struggling in, nothing will stop him from becoming an expert. He is reading up on it as if his life depended on it, driven by his strong dislike of being bad at something. It doesn't matter whether you tell him it is okay and that you can always ask a fellow student or your teacher/lecturer; he is having none of it.

✾ At this point, he is more frustrated about not grasping a particular part of the theory than you. Even after you two manage to work through your homework/coursework, he will continue to read up on the topic until he fully understands it.

✾ He might be an overachiever and perfectionist who could’ve very well used the time that he spent on a piece of information he will never ever use again more wisely, but if anyone ever needs to know more about that specific theory, he can tell them everything.

D.O./Kyungsoo:

✾ Listen, I love him with every fibre in my body, and I will continue to do so until I turn to dust, but Kyungsoo has admitted, on several occasions, that he is not a big fan of studying. Sure, he got his degree, just like the others, and got his culinary license, indicating that he is more than capable of retaining a ton of information and working through difficult assignments/problems. But, does he enjoy studying? No, not really; he got it over with and seems glad to be done.

✾ So, when you ask him to help you with your homework/coursework, he will remind you, at least seven times, that he isn’t too good at studying and that there are better people to ask for help instead. He will try his best, albeit reluctantly, reminding you continuously to lower your expectations.

✾ In the end, he will try to help out in a different way, either by supplying you with a ton of study snacks or recounting how he worked through tough assignments back when he was in university, with the hope that maybe it works for you as it did for him. He makes sure that you are as comfortable as you can be, convinced he can’t do much more than that.  

Kai/Jongin:

✾ Listen, don’t get me wrong, I adore Kai. However, I have to say that he is not the brightest when it comes to academia (at least compared to the rest of EXO) or, like, his common sense. Yes, he had his moments of genius in New World, and I am sure that when it comes to memorizing dance and lyrics, he is insanely good. However, give him a math problem, and he will cry.

✾ Kai strikes me as someone who was exhilarated to be done with school, not seeing the point of going to university like the rest of his members. When you ask him to help you out with your home/coursework, something inside of him dies as he knows nothing that will be leaving his mouth will be helpful. He is too sweet to say no and will try his hardest to help you with whatever you are struggling with. Nevertheless, he is even more lost than you upon reading your assignment, confused by all the fancy words the assignment seems to be using.  

✾ Nevertheless, Kai would be an amazing person if you need someone to talk to without necessarily needing any advice/answers, just to get your own ideas out of your head. He knows exactly when to nod and say “hmhm”,  aware that you don’t necessarily want to get his input, only needing him to work through your thoughts and ideas on your own.

✾ Honestly, he gets an A for effort for me. Kai is good vibes only, and he would give you a hug for support.

Sehun:

✾ Another one who is glad he finished school and never has to go back. Again, don’t get me wrong, I love Sehun, but you can’t deny that he isn’t the smartest person in the room. As Suho said during EXO Ladder, “I think, they (the beluga whales) have the same IQ as Sehun” after noting they have an IQ of 60-90.

✾ Where Kai still tries to help out, he flat-out refuses. What do you mean you need his help finishing your work? He is so unapologetic about it too and slightly offended; why did you have to remind him about the horror that is school? He left that behind him and under no circumstances will he ever be dragged back in. He is rich, and he needs no degree.

✾ Such a bad influence on you as he tries to keep you from doing your work. “Well, if you are struggling with your homework you might as well take a break and go to the convenience store with me.” Funnily enough, it actually helps to clear your head. Sometimes the best thing to do is to step away and try again with a clearer mind. Sehun maintains that it was his plan all along; you doubt it.

✾ He will end up asking one of his members to assist you with your homework, calling in a favour with, for instance, Suho. They are all down bad for him, so you end up with the best tutors EXO has to offer.

Masterlist

[miraculouscontent]

I know that you said that it was an one shot, but I really love the idea of marinette stay in Paris with Luka and kagami and avoid all the NY drama! If you can, can you share more of it? Even if just a few little ideas it would be great! (I love your ideas!)

(the one-shot this anon is referring to)

Aw, thank you so much!

And sure, after some thought, I did really want to write a little more with them!

—————

While throwing away their now juice-less cups, Marinette made the realization of how different things seemed with Luka and Kagami. She had already experienced hanging out with both of them separately, but she'd never imagined having both of them with her at once. It wasn't as if she'd always dismissed or despised the idea, but the only time they'd interacted as a group had been with Adrien around, which had probably soured the whole thing and thus involuntarily caused her to never think about it.

With her friends, everything was typically high-energy. Juleka and Mylene weren't very involved in creating such an atmosphere, but Marinette herself, Rose, Alya, and kept things energized. It wasn't a bad thing in general, but it made Marinette wonder if maybe surrounding herself with people who only encouraged her excitable habits wasn't a good thing.

Meanwhile, Luka and Kagami were completely different, both from her and her friends. Neither were particularly loud - though both could be when they wanted to - and they weren't really the kind to tease or mess with her either. Luka wasn't quiet in the way Juleka was, just seeming to absorb the world around him, whereas Kagami only spoke when she felt that there was something of value to say. Marinette had worried briefly that she might've been too different from the both of them, or that she'd overwhelm them due to speaking up the most, but instead, there was a sense of balance. Luka smiled or chuckled reassuringly whenever she caught herself rambling, whereas Kagami would cut in with her own views that were often direct but nevertheless good in their intentions. Perhaps her personality rubbed off on them in a way she couldn't fully understand?

Still, it was nice.

As the three were deciding what to do next, Marinette's phone suddenly went off. Marinette looked at her purse and pulled out her phone, half-expecting a text from one of her classmates about her missing the bus, but it was actually a notification about where Andre the ice cream man was.

Kagami glanced over after noticing the look on Marinette's face. "You want to get ice cream?"

Marinette frowned, Kagami's voice reminding her of the day the two of them had gone for ice cream with Adrien. She still remembered talking to Andre, hoping beyond hope that maybe the man wouldn't make them pick between the three different flavors. His words still stung a little, not because of Adrien, but because of what the words meant.

"Too many flavors mixed together may throw off the delicate balance."

It implied that one of them would always be the third wheel if they were together, no matter what, and it was a hollow feeling that she'd only recently started to accept.

"Marinette?"

Feeling a comforting hand on her shoulder, she looked over and noted Luka offering her a concerned expression. It grounded her, serving as a reminders that things were different now and that Adrien wasn't there which, in a strange way, brought her an immense sense of comfort.

"I'm fine," she assured. Turning her attention back to her phone, she deleted the notification and then made sure that she wouldn't be getting another one. "Ice cream sounds good, if you want it too, but... I think I've got a better idea than Andre's."

Luka and Kagami exchanged curious glances.

—————

"Here's to Neapolitan ice cream!" Marinette declared dramatically, raising her spoon up with flair before shoving it and the ice cream on it right into her mouth.

Luka snorted in amusement while Kagami gave an acknowledging nod, probably remembering the exact phrase from Andre that Marinette had recalled earlier.

They'd picked up the carton of ice cream on the way to Marinette's place, with Marinette insisting on paying in order to spoil them, and while they seemed confused on the specifics of her insistence, they gave in soon enough. Marinette could understand why she'd be the expected person to be comforted, but giving to others made her happy on its own and she felt they deserved it. After all, Luka had tried his hardest to catch up to the bus and Kagami was still dealing with Adrien wanting to leave for New York despite her being in Paris.

They'd ultimately decided on splitting the entire carton between the three of them, with each of them getting a majority of the one of the flavors and then the rest of that flavor going to the other two. Marinette had gone with chocolate, Kagami had gone with vanilla, and Luka had gone with strawberry. It might've seemed like a weird choice to go with since they'd just had orange juice, but it hadn't been much and it wasn't exactly a "treat."

Marinette may have considered suggesting ice skating instead if her first thought of it wasn't her slipping and bringing Luka and Kagami down to the ice with her. Ice cream was the safer alternative to "cold fun."

"Luka," she called thoughtfully, taking another bite before asking, "you're not feeling sore or anything, are you?"

He met her gaze, smiling at the concern but waving his hand dismissively. "I'm alright, Marinette. I'm used to biking around for hours because of my job, so it wasn't a big deal."

Kagami halted, spoon halfway in her mouth while her brows rose noticeably. She finished the scoop, then turned to look at Luka. "You have a job?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I deliver pizza." He grinned, clearly amused by her reaction. "Are you surprised?"

Kagami's expression didn't shift, but Marinette had known her long enough to see that she was embarrassed. "Oh, no. It's... I don't have one."

"There's nothing wrong with that." Luka shrugged. "I just have the time to do it."

"Mm." Kagami looked back at her ice cream, poking at the surface with her spoon. "I suppose it would be too difficult with my fencing lessons."

Marinette giggled sheepishly, happy to join in on the conversation. "I probably wouldn't be able to either. There's all my fashion work with my website, and then there's the unexpected babysitting, the bakery, and I'm also the class representative." She hurriedly added an, "I know it doesn't sound like much, but I'm bad at planning," when she felt that it seemed like such little things. She was Ladybug and the new guardian too, of course, but she couldn't be blurting that out, so she could only hope that it didn't seem like she was whining over nothing.

She averted her gaze, scooping up a self-conscious bite of her ice cream and shoving it into her mouth. She was partway through savoring it when she realized that neither Luka nor Kagami had responded to her. Daring a look back, she saw them staring at her with varying gazes.

Kagami seemed stunned, commenting, "That is... well, much, actually," referring to what Marinette had just tried to brush off.

Was it? Marinette had never really thought about it. In fact, she distinctly remembered back in the day where people might've thought she was just scatterbrained and didn't really do anything. Back when she was hesitant to be class representative and claimed that she was busy, Alya had asked her with a hint of snark what she was busy with, like she expected her to have a free schedule.

Even beyond her role of Ladybug at the time, she still had random babysitting to do and still frequently worked on her fashion projects. Thinking back, it stung just a little.

As Marinette glanced at Luka, she at first felt that the amount of sympathy he was directing at her was excessive, but then she remembered how she had cried in front of him to the point where he'd dropped his bike and guitar in order to comfort her. She blushed, both in shame and from the memory of him holding her so closely.

"Ah—well—it's okay!" she said hurriedly, "Anyway, forget about me! This day is about... um, this ice cream, and ice cream doesn't have problems that you should worry about!"

She nearly gave herself brainfreeze from how quickly she scooped up and ate the next bite, but figured it'd be worth it if they dropped the subject.

It wasn't worth it.

"You should be more careful," Kagami commented critically, an edge to her voice that Marinette knew wasn't meant to be anger at her. "You're my friend, so don't overwork yourself."

Marinette grinned nervously, still trying to lighten the mood. "A-are you saying it'd be alright to overwork myself if I wasn't your friend?"

Kagami's gaze didn't waver, and Marinette slowly tried to sink into her seat.

Luka set his spoon down on the bowl, then chimed in, "I don't know anything about fashion, Marinette, but if you ever need any help with anything—"

Kagami clicked her own spoon against her bowl to interrupt him, as if she felt personally slighted that he'd gotten to say it first. "We're here for you."

Luka nodded to confirm.

"Oh." Marinette blushed deeper, touched by the gesture from both of them. She thought about trying to reassure them again, but their gazes were firm and showed no room for argument, so she settled for a soft, "Thanks."

They resumed eating their ice cream from there, the topic officially concluded. Though the atmosphere felt noticeably different, Marinette was surprised to realize that it wasn't exactly in a bad way. She feared that she'd ruined the mood, but instead felt like she was supported, with Kagami and Luka looking satisfied with their choice in offering help to her.

It was like she was Ladybug, and they were the partners standing at her side, each with their own form of support. It made her smile, allowing her to happily eat away at her ice cream without thinking about anything stressful.

The idea of going to New York was suddenly very unappetizing in comparison to having ice cream with Luka and Kagami.

—————

All things considered, Ladybug wasn't concerned about telling Chat Noir that her plans had changed and she wasn't going anywhere after all. She imagined that Chat would be overjoyed and wouldn't even ask questions about it, just happy to have her back. She found his affection eyeroll-worthy, but he was still her teammate, so she just steeled herself up for whatever ramble he was about to give her.

However, as she waited near the top of the Eiffel Tower, sitting on the guardrail and looking around for Chat Noir, she realized that she couldn't even see him. Checking the time on her yoyo, she confirmed that it was indeed time for their usual patrol, but Chat Noir was completely absent. Even though it was nighttime, which made the black cat's suit blend in with the sky, he still had the blond hair and light skin that should've made him noticeable.

Ladybug got up and paced around the area a few times, constantly peeking down at the city as she wondered if maybe she just wasn't looking in the right spot. When she still saw nothing, she concluded that Chat Noir must just be running late and she'd simply have to wait a little longer. Things happened, after all, she knew that better than anyone, so she began idling on her yoyo, searching for something to keep her occupied while she waited.

They were a team. While their identities had to remain a secret, Chat Noir had always hated it and prioritized openness in their relationship, so he would've told her if something had come up. He was also active in going on patrols, always seeming eager to join her for their runs across the rooftops, and given that he didn't even know that she'd still be in Paris, patrols were even more crucial.

He never showed up.

[amjustagirl]

Summary: Sakusa Kiyoomi's heart has always pointed north. He wonders if it's broken when it starts to point inexorably towards her. 

Set in the aftermath of The Astrophile, in the same universe as Storm Chaser.

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi / f! reader

Genre: Fluff, angst, romance 

Wordcount: 7.8k 

Masterlist link here

A/N: Dedicated first and foremost to Ami @softsakusa, one of the first people to convince that my writing isn’t shit and that I should keep creating fics. 

This fic is also for all the readers who wanted a happy ending for the reader in The Astrophile (which sets out the backstory of the reader, Iwaizumi and Oikawa), and also follows the events of Storm Chaser (which follows the turbulent relationship of Miya Atsumu and now wife - I named her Kaiyo in this fic to avoid confusion!). 

Hope you like it - reblogs and comments are always dearly appreciated <3

It must be the worst meet cute of all time. 

That is – if he’s using that phrase correctly. It keeps appearing in the god-awful English movies Bokuto and Miya keep playing during team movie nights that makes him want to tear his hair out. 

But yes, he meets her at Miya Shino’s seventh birthday party, the birthday girl the apple of Miya Atsumu’s eye, the princess of his castle, the most perfect angel in the entire heavens - the list of pet names growing longer and longer the more the obnoxious setter prattles on about his daughter. 

And apparently Miya Shino is a chip off the old block, and is as obsessed with volleyball as her father. Which means that he, one Sakusa Kiyoomi, is forced to turn up on a Saturday afternoon for a birthday party to teach a group of children roughly about the same height as his kneecaps how to play volleyball. 

There are plenty of other MSBY players that Miya Atsumu could have rounded up to fritter away a Saturday afternoon. Hinata, for instance - the sunny, fiery headed opposite hitter a perennial favourite with young fans. Or Inunaki - the liberio has an amiable personality that he certainly wouldn’t mind snot nosed children hanging off his arms like a walking, talking monkey bar. But no, Hinata is apparently busy on a weekend meditation retreat, and Inunaki is at his sister’s wedding party, so both of them managed to escape this travesty of a birthday party. 

That leaves him with Bokuto who’s practically a child himself, beaming, bumping balls at screaming children with one hand, the other hand lifting another child above his head. Meian’s here too but his own kid is somewhere in this gaggle of monsters anyway, so he’s here to carry out his parental duties – hopefully his presence might balance the sheer chaos he’s sure he’s about to face.   

‘Omi-omi you made it!’ Atsumu greets him with a slap to the back. 

Sakusa resists the urge to bare his teeth. Is this what hell is? Screeching gremlins underfoot, the nauseating smell of fried food permeating the air. 

And it’s probably because he’s still in a horrified daze at the situation he’s put himself in (which Atsumu is either too dense to pick up on or already immune due to the series of similar expressions he pulls at him on a daily basis), Atsumu manages to snap a party hat on his head, before he prances off in victory. 

Sakusa snarls, ripping off the red paper hat off his head. 

Why on earth did he agree to this again? 

‘Sakusa-san! Thank you so much for coming!’ 

His glare softens by a fraction. 

Miya Kaiyo, Atsumu’s long suffering wife approaches him, careful not to touch him, waving at him instead. He appreciates her thoughtfulness, so he thaws a little, giving her a slight nod in greeting. 

Right, she’s the reason why he’s here. 

He’s always been fond of her - competent, patient, intelligent, far too good for her idiot of a husband. Approximately a year ago, he sought her professional help with his accounts. He graduated with a business degree from Chuo University, so he can tell there is obviously something fishy that his manager is pulling with his finances, but the accounting courses he took weren’t in depth to pinpoint the problem. Miya Kaiyo, on the other hand, a trained forensic accountant with a nose like a bloodhound for fraudulent accounts, nailed down the problem within a week. So when she asked him after a game whether he’d be free to attend her daughter's birthday party, he hadn’t been able to turn her down. 

‘It was no problem’, he says stiffly, already itching to spray the whole place down with disinfectant. ‘I’m glad to be here.’ 

Kaiyo laughs at his obvious lie, tugging at his sleeve to seat him in a corner. ‘You don’t have to go play with the kids if you didn’t want to! I invited you so we could catch up, and besides, I did want to introduce you to someone.’ 

‘Hm.’ 

He doesn’t try to mask his reluctance this time. Kaiyo means well, he knows, but between her and his mother, he’s tired of having to fend off match making attempts. It’s not like he can’t get a date – he can and he has, it’s just difficult to find someone willing to put up with his prickly personality and busy schedule.

‘Well she’s not here yet, so you’ll have to wait. And while we’re waiting, tell me how’ve things been, Sakusa-san?’ 

Grateful that he’s not going to be forced into shepherding children into playing anything remotely resembling an actual volleyball match (he suspects he might have more luck teaching cats how to do the conga), he settles into his seat, mouth stretching into something resembling a smile. He lets her chatter about work, and they’re deep in a discussion about his plans post-volleyball (because he can feel the countdown on his career in his creaking bones, his aching sinews)  when Atsumu swoops in on him again, like a vulture seeking easy prey. 

‘What’cha doin’ with my wife, Omi-omi’, he slips a hand around Kaiyo’s waist mock possessively. 

She swats at him. He ducks, raising his hands in surrender. 

‘I enjoy talking to an actual adult sometimes, ‘Tsumu!’ 

‘Oh come on, I already have to share you with ‘Samu most of the time, now you’re leaving me for Omi-kun?!’

‘Dramatic ass.’ 

‘Please, you chose to marry me.’ He crows, flipping his hair. He looks ridiculous, he always does. Kaiyo seems to agree - 

‘And I wonder why sometimes.’ She retorts, Atsumu squawking indignantly at her response, hair ruffling like an offended chick. But Kaiyo ruins the effect of her words by laughing, leaning over to affectionately peck her husband on the cheek. 

Sakusa should be annoyed by this display of childishness, but for some inexplicable reason, a frisson of longing bubbles in his chest instead. It’s strange. Marriage or even serious relationships have never been something he’s actively sought. After all, it always seemed horrendously illogical to put all your eggs in one basket and hope nothing trips up – but his heart pays his mind no mind, and the strange sensation continues to trickle down his throat into his chest. 

He makes up an excuse to slip to the bathroom for a tactical retreat from this madness. 

Then he takes a breath. 

Rinse. Lather hands with soap. Rinse. Repeat again .

Familiar motions, bred out of a desire to do things right, transformed into an unbreakable habit. Cold water, washing away soap bubbles.

Right. Now he’s ready for another plunge off the deep end . 

He’s a foot past the threshold of the community hall where the party is being held when Miya Shino darts towards him. She’s very clearly her father’s daughter with his penchant for mischief because she dives between his legs, making him stumble in confusion. Then Meian Shugo’s eldest son Makoto barrels towards him, intent on reaching the ball held aloft in Shino’s hands. 

Athletic reflexes be damned in the face of a pair of hell-spawn. 

‘Shino!’. Kaiyo shouts. 

‘Makoto!’ Meian thunders. 

Sakusa flails, decidedly without grace, and in his attempt at not squashing the two little devils, he manages to do something even  worse . 

Much, much worse. 

He manages to trip over his feet and bump right into the woman Miya Kaiyo wanted to introduce him to (this, he finds out later). It’s a lost cause – he’s six foot two of pure muscle, dwarfing her by a mile, and she’s carrying a huge box in her hand. 

He ends up face planting directly into her chest. 

His brain short circuits at the feeling of plush softness and vanilla and – , 

‘Woah - Omi-omi, never thought I’d have to defend the honour of my cousin in law’, Atsumu laughs.  

The sudden flare of irritation at Atsumu’s words kickstarts his brain back into gear. Rearing back in alarm, he promptly topples over onto his butt. 

‘Uncle ‘kusa, I’m sorry’ Shino screeches, distraught. Makoto merely snivels. Kaiyo is evidently the only one with working brain cells, because she rushes over to help them up.  

The-woman-with-the-mysterious-box makes Kaiyo take the box first. It holds precious cargo - Shino’s birthday cake, he later finds out, but because she manages to cling on to it with admirable tenacity, it emerges more or less intact. Then she turns to him, still sprawled on the floor. He scoots away, still dazed. 

She offers him a steady hand. ‘Hello’, she says. ‘It seems we’ve gotten off to rather a bad start.’

There is a hint of mirth in her voice, but her eyes are kind.  

He takes her hand with a rare smile. 

Miya Kaiyo grins behind the cake box. It turns out her daughter is a better matchmaker than either her or (heaven forbid) her husband. 

It turns out that Miya Kaiyo wanted to introduce him to her cousin, newly moved to Osaka from Tokyo. She’s a sports journalist, used to cover volleyball even, but for some reason their paths never crossed. She too, is tired of her cousin’s well intentioned meddling, but asks him if he’d like to meet her for dinner one day ‘if only to get Kaiyo off her back, because she’s persistent’, and funnily enough, he agrees. 

He doesn’t mind making a new friend, he reasons. She seems decent enough. 

They go out for dinner on a Tuesday night. She doesn’t complain when he tells her that due to his diet planned by MSBY’s nutritionist, most restaurants are off limits. Instead, she asks intelligent questions about whether the sources of protein and fibre he’s relying on are varied enough, even suggesting alternatives like tempeh, a Southeast Asian soy product. 

He appreciates that. 

She doesn’t also fawn over the fact that he’s a professional athlete. That makes sense, considering she’s probably interviewed dozens, if not hundreds of individuals who are just like him. It’s nice - he’s tired of groupies who start dates off by staring at him starry eyed, but ending it with disappointment in their eyes when they discover that he’s just a guy who practices hitting balls enough to do it for a living. And best of all, she doesn’t mind that their conversation sometimes wanes into silence. She doesn’t seem to feel the need to fill empty spaces with inane drivel, nor expect him to entertain her like a circus animal. 

He likes that. 

So when the night ends, he asks her whether she’d like to have dinner with him again. ‘Just as friends’, he’s quick to clarify. 

‘Sure’, she nods, and they bid each other goodnight.  

They start having dinner every Tuesday night, subject to their erratic schedules. 

He enjoys her company. She’s thoughtful, bringing him home made baked goods like zucchini cake (low sugar, of course), sneaking him chocolate scones for his cheat days after she discovers his hidden sweet tooth. She’s considerate too, never blinking an eye at his compulsive need to make sure everything is just in order, even if the waitress stands behind them aghast when he insists on using disinfectant to wipe down their table. She doesn’t even call him paranoid when he passes her a bottle of sanitizer. 

Slowly, he finds himself confiding in her about things he’d maybe only tell his cousin, Motoya. Or at least, the things he would tell Motoya if the guy would only pick up his calls. 

‘Sorry’, Motoya texts back after a couple of missed calls. ‘ Practice has been brutal recently. 

In a remarkable display of restraint, Sakusa does not point out that EJP Raijin is below MSBY in this season’s rankings. 

So he tells her instead about how he’s contemplating retirement, how he’s trying to chart out his next steps career wise. She surprises him by listening to him gravely, pointing out that he can lean on his business degree to possibly land an office job in event management or with sports associations, putting him in touch with one overly excited Kuroo Tetsuro. He tucks her suggestions away carefully at the back of his mind.   

It’s nice to have a friend, he tells himself, his lips quirking ever so slightly when her hand grazes his as they walk down the street together. 

He invites her to the monthly gatherings that the MSBY players take turns to host for their family and friends, making the excuse that he needs a human shield in any event hosted by Miya Atsumu. She agrees easily, perking up at the chance to spend a Sunday afternoon with her cousin and niece - ‘ and Kaiyo’ll need help, especially since she’s pregnant’, bringing far too many cupcakes topped with the lightest, fluffiest cream cheese frosting he’s ever had the pleasure of tasting. Even Miya Osamu gives her a nod of respect after stuffing his face full of her cupcakes.  He, unlike his twin, has good taste.

Her brow furls into a concerned frown when he quietly sneaks himself a second cupcake. ‘You don’t have to force yourself to eat it just to be polite! I made it, so  I  know it has so much sugar and butter it would make your nutritionist weep. If you want, I snuck some zucchini cake in my handbag for you instead.’ 

He stubbornly shovels a large bite into his mouth. ‘I won’t tell if you don’t.’ 

She bursts into laughter, leaning forward to wipe away the smudge of frosting on the tip of his nose with her thumb. 

Miya Kaiyo shoots him a knowing look across the room, waggling her eyebrows in an eerie imitation of her husband. He fights to keep his face blank, refusing to feed her satisfaction, but fails, a hot flush rising in his cheeks. 

‘Traitor’ he mouths at her. Her smirk only deepens.

Fortunately, the gathering ends with no further mishaps, either to his physical well-being or his dignity. Makoto is packed off with Meian, the little boy whining for more time to play with Shino. Hinata and Bokuto prance off for some ridiculous buffet on the other side of town.

As for himself, he hangs back with her to help the Miyas put their house back in order, expelling an amused puff of a laugh from his nose when she forces the very pregnant Kaiyo to ‘stay still, for goodness sake!’  on the couch, dancing around the house with a mop, Shino trailing after her waving a feather duster with gusto. He refrains from telling the little girl that she’s more likely to spread  the dust than to actually clear it – at least she’s not causing more havoc this way. 

‘I can’t believe I could’ve ever taken this for granted, y’know’, Atsumu comments from behind him, mouth wide in a tender smile. ‘It’s the best feeling in the world to have a wife and kid who loves ya to the moon and back, welcoming ya home after a long day at work. They make everything worth it.’

He’s thrown for a loop at this rare display of emotional vulnerability from the usually obnoxious setter and for once, does not resort to hostility, choosing instead to acknowledge the blonde setter’s words with a tacticum nod. 

The Miyas’ apartment is far too chaotic for his tastes, with colourful toys scattered on the floor, mismatched picture frames of the little family on the walls, but laughter hangs in the air, and light spills from the windows, illuminating the warmth and love and fondness in every look and word the Miyas gift each other. 

His father gave him a compass when he was a child, as a present to celebrate his first match. His mother clucked her tongue because it’s a strange gift for a child - delicate, fiddly, its gold exterior tarnished with age. But his father chuckled and told him that he’s old enough to appreciate that the compass is his father’s, and his father’s father before that, an heirloom to remind their sons to work hard at everything they do, and to keep their hearts on course, pointing north. 

And Sakusa thinks he’s done that. He’s worked and worked and worked at perfecting his skills in his chosen sport. He’s accepted his solo course, so laser focused on carving out a career in professional sports leaves little time or space for intimate relationships. Not to mention the fact that watching the disaster of Atsumu’s early years of marriage from the sidelines, made him swear off similar heartbreak for himself. 

But there are times when he can’t help but feel a little lonely - when he has to struggle to find a date for MSBY events, when he has no one to celebrate the holidays with, when he goes home every day to his neat, cold apartment with space for only one occupant. 

The compass in his heart creaks. It starts to turn a few degrees just off-course. 

‘Do you ever wonder what it’d be like to get married?’ he asks her as he’s walking her home that night. 

‘I did, once upon a time’, she shrugs carelessly. He misses the sudden strain in her smile. ‘Why do you ask?’ 

He stays silent for a while, the length of the quiet street giving him time to properly ferment his response. He considers the effects of adding splashes of colour to his dull life, weighs it against his long cultivated instinct to avoid the potential chaos of any emotional entanglements. He finds himself suddenly craving the sweetness of cream cheese frosting, and wonders how it’d be like to come home to light, fluffy cakes baked by her hands. 

When they reach her apartment block, she tilts her head at him curiously, obviously awaiting his answer. He tugs his words together, strings his swirling thoughts into a decipherable sentence. 

‘Because Atsumu and Kaiyo seem happy together. And I wondered if we’d be happy together too.’ 

He watches her puzzle over his words, her brow furling into a confused frown. ‘And I wasn’t proposing, by the way’, he feels the need to clarify. 

She snorts. ‘I didn’t think so.’ With a directness that he very much appreciates, she looks at him squarely and asks - ‘Are you asking me out, Sakusa Kiyoomi?’ 

He meets her gaze. ‘Yes, I am. We’ve known each other for a decently long time for me to conclude our personalities are well matched, and we’re both mature adults who respect each other’s work schedules and commitments. And if you don’t mind that I can be overly blunt and quiet sometimes - ‘ 

‘ - which I don’t’, she interjects, with a chuckle. 

‘I think we might be happy together’, he concludes, with a small smile that’s becoming more common in her presence.

He allows her the space to turn his proposition over in her mind. 

‘Alright’, she finally says. ‘I guess we can give it a go’. 

So much for Atsumu accusing him of having a heart made out of tin. Flesh and muscle works overtime to pump blood into his cheeks as she slots her fingers between his and gives his hand a squeeze. 

Being in a relationship isn’t too different from what they had before. 

They still keep to their standing date to meet every Tuesday (schedules permitting, of course). But now he doesn’t have to make up excuses to ask her out on outings that aren’t food related. At first he tries his best to adhere to dating norms, arranging for romantic dates at candlelit restaurants, buying her massive bouquets that make her sneeze. 

‘It’s fine, Omi’, she tells him gently after they spend another uncomfortable evening in a dimly lit restaurant eating off plates too large for the laughably tiny food portions. ‘I’m happy just hanging out with you. You don’t have to go out of your way to impress me, I’m not holding on to any ridiculous expectations of you’. He stops after that, glad he doesn’t have to suffer another night trying to decipher which utensil to be used at which course, or having to put on starched formal wear to yet another stuffy restaurant. 

She’s noticeably happier when they accompany each other on trips to the supermarket, each holding a stack of coupons to take advantage of the latest deals. She shields him from any overly zealous obaa-sans with gusto, throwing elbows and using her grocery basket as a makeshift battering ram before they crowd close enough to him to trigger his anxiety. He helps her reach for things on the top shelf ‘to prevent her from scaling the grocery shelves like an overgrown teenager’ , he snarks. He’s worried his attempt at teasing lands wrong, but she snorts and thanks him good naturedly anyways. 

On the weekends, they develop a habit of meal prepping for the rest of the week at her apartment. His kitchen lacks the fancy mixers and blenders that she has, and in all honesty, his dark, spartan apartment lacks the sunlight and warmth that spills into her apartment from the windows, so it’s only logical that they should spend the bulk of their time there. It’s an oasis of calm for him, chopping vegetables and chicken into small cubes, sautéing them for the week ahead, while she bustles around whipping eggs and flour and milk together to form another delectable cake that they always end up sharing at the end of the day. 

He starts to dread matches away from home a little more than he used to. While hotel rooms are as spartan as his own apartment, he doesn’t have the option of heading over to her apartment to bask in her quiet warmth. His meals come in styrofoam boxes instead of the glass tupperware she stacks on her kitchen counter, and he turns up his nose at store bought cakes that his teammates offer him, only craving for those baked in her oven. He even starts looking up to the stands for a glimpse of her, only to remember that she can’t be there to cheer the team on. 

‘Cheer up, Omi-omi! We’ll have a home match next week’, Atsumu tells him jovially. 

‘It doesn’t matter either way to me’, he mutters resentfully, but the setter only grins.

‘Trust me, it matters a great deal to have the girl ya love cheering ya on, y’know?’ 

He stalks off to the changing room, ignoring the peals of laughter from the blonde annoyance he leaves in his wake.  

The tight coil of loneliness only loosens when he sees her waiting for him at the station when he returns. She ignores his protests to snag his suitcase away from him, the case looking comically large against her small frame, but she uses it effectively as a tank to force a path through the crowd, and drag him back to her apartment in no time. 

‘You need a home cooked dinner to make up for all those industrially prepared food you must’ve been eating this entire week’, she tells him, bustling around the kitchen, only stilling when he takes her shoulders in his hands. 

‘Are you happy?’ he asks, when he cups her face to carefully brush the dusting of flour on her cheek away.  

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ She laughs, the sound fond.

‘Just checking in’, he tells her, closing his eyes as she pulls him down towards her for a kiss. 

All in all, it’s a happy, uncomplicated relationship. He likes it that way.

If his heart were a compass, he’d suspect it’s broken because instead of pointing north, it starts to inch inexorably towards her. 

But there are strange quirks he notices about her that niggles at his brain. 

She refuses point blank to check out the planetarium when she attends an event held at the adjacent Art Museum as his date, professing to have an irrational dislike for stars. 

‘They’re just balls of burning gas and light ’ , he points out. ‘What could you possibly have against them?’ 

There’s a flicker of irritation in her eyes that he does not miss. ‘I know it’s stupid but just humour me, ok?’ Her tone verges on a snarl, before she storms away, ostensibly to the bathroom to freshen herself up. 

She returns later with an apology for her behaviour. Though he’s confused, he respects her privacy and does not push for an answer. 

He’s at her apartment preparing meals for the week ahead when the doorbell rings and an enormous bouquet of white lilies are deposited into her arms. She stares dumbly at the flowers, their sickly sweet scent permeating the air. 

His brow furls. ‘Today isn’t your birthday, is it?’

His words jolt her out of her trance. ‘No’, she answers, before inexplicably storming to the living room and dumping the bouquet with a vengeance on the coffee table. Pollen flutters to the floor, delicate white petals crushed in her hands. 

‘It’s nothing’, she tells him as he shoots her a questioning look. 

When she disappears to the washroom, he peeks at the card. There’s no name on it, just a simple message - ‘consider it, please?’

He doesn’t question her about it when she returns to the kitchen. She doesn’t offer him any answers either. 

He finds himself wondering about them. 

It was refreshing at first to have a relationship free of any expectations. She never asks for more than he’s willing to give, seems happy enough to slot herself into the pockets of time he offers, only attends his games when he gives her tickets, doesn’t get upset with him when he inevitably forgets to text. 

But therein lies the issue, doesn’t it?  

If she truly likes him, wants to pursue a relationship seriously with him, shouldn’t she be demanding more than the crumbs of affection and attention he shows her? They’re both past the age of thirty, shouldn’t she be looking to get married and settle down, maybe spawn a demon child or two? 

He’s tried raising it with her once, but she responded with confusion. 

‘I don’t have any expectations of you, Omi’, she’d replied. ‘We both have busy lives, so whatever you’re willing to give, I’m happy to take’. 

There’s technically nothing wrong about her answer. It’s wholly considerate and kind - very much her.  

Still, it makes him wonder - if her heart were a compass, would it point towards him? 

He manages to hold his tongue until she gets another delivery of flowers. 

This time he opens the door when the doorbell rings, assaulted by the heady scent of lillies, pollen smeared on his sleeves. This time, there’s a name on the card. 

Oikawa Tooru . 

It takes a couple of seconds for him to realise why the name is so familiar. It’s the same name Hinata and Kageyama used to buzz about every Olympics - the famous Argentinian setter who started his career as a schoolboy from Miyagi, a prodigious setter who never made it to Nationals in high school, refused to give up and forged his way to success in a whole new land, continents away.

‘How do you know Oikawa’? He asks her. ‘And why does he keep sending your flowers?’ 

‘He’s just an old acquaintance,’ she admits. ‘He’s just sending the flowers to persuade me to attend his wedding.’

His forehead crinkles in confusion, and he tries his best not to leap to conclusions, but since she doesn’t seem to be forthcoming with further clarification, he presses her further. 

‘And why won’t you attend his wedding?’ 

Her shoulders slouch in obvious reluctance as she turns away, focusing her attention on the mixing bowl. But Kiyoomi isn’t easily deterred, so he firmly takes the mixing bowl from her and sets it on the countertop. He raises an eyebrow at her, clearly seeking an answer. 

She huffs a sigh through her nose. ‘Because he’s getting married to my ex-boyfriend, ok?’   

He blinks. That was unexpected. 

‘It happened half a decade ago. Ancient history. I’m over it.’ She mutters to the floor. 

‘Why didn’t you tell me about it?’ 

‘Because it’s none of your business’, she snaps, grabbing the mixing bowl again, beating the batter with a vengeance. 

‘You’re going to ruin the texture if you whisk it too hard’, he tugs the bowl away from her again. She refuses to relinquish her grip.

‘Leave me alone!’ she snarls, yanking the bowl back. Confused by her sudden fury, he lets go of the bowl, only for her to stumble back, eyes wide as she loses her balance, knocking her head against the countertop.

He drops down onto his knees, not even noticing the batter soaking into his pants, combing through her hair, scouring the back of her neck for any sign of injury. It’s only when he’s satisfied that her fall has resulted in nothing more than a bruise that should go away by tomorrow that he notices her tears soaking the front of his shirt. 

‘Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?’ he asks, wiping her tears away with a batter splattered thumb. 

She hangs her head, body still shaking from her sobs. ‘I’ve already made such a mess of things – don’t want you to have to listen to my nonsense – am just bein’ stupid, that’s all - ’. 

He patiently waits until her sobs dissolves into mere sniffles before speaking. ‘I want you to tell me what’s wrong. If you’re up to it.’ 

So through more broken sobs and hiccups, he listens to the tale of Iwaizumi Hajime, a boy who was her world, who only realised he was always in love with Oikawa Tooru, a fortnight before she and he were to wed. Her voice wavers as she tells him the full story of the white lilies, explains that her irrational dislike for stars stems from the reminder that she chose to give her world up to a boy-king burning brighter than the stars in the night sky combined. 

He waits until her words run out, and she’s leaning against him, broken and pliant in a way that makes his heart ache. 

‘I wish you told me about it earlier’, he tells her, tucking the loose strands of hair behind her ear. ‘That you would trust me enough to tell me about the things that hurt you in the past. And I wonder about the state of our relationship if you don’t even trust me enough for that’. 

‘That’s unfair. You never asked - ‘ 

‘How could I ask about something I didn’t even know about?’ He takes hold of her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. Hurt and anger and shock simmer in her eyes, each swirl of emotion fighting for dominance. 

‘I didn’t want to expect anything more from this relationship than you were willing to give’, she admits after a pause. 

She’s scared of being hurt again. He doesn’t miss the subtext.  

‘Shall I tell you what I want from you then? I have a list, if you’re willing to hear me out’ he asks, with a smile that’s growing more common the more time he spends around her. 

She nods, but keeps her gaze stubbornly on the ground. 

He takes his time to choose his words. He’s never been verbose - not like Atsumu or Bokuto or even easygoing Motoya, choosing to only say what is strictly necessary, using the precise amount of words, nothing more, nothing less. But this is a situation that requires more emotion rather than precision, so he inhales a shaky breath, letting it fuel the sentiment in his heart as he exhales. 

‘First. I want you to trust that I’ll never hurt you like he did’, he says, and with a self-deprecating smile he adds - ‘I don’t have any childhood friends to be secretly in love with besides Motoya, and I’m hardly going to be pining after my flake of a cousin’. 

That triggers the corners of her lips to tilt upwards, and encouraged, he carries on.    

‘Second. I want you to be open with me about what you want - your dreams, your expectations of me. I want to hear them all because  you’re important to me.’

That makes her flush pink, and she sneaks a glance up towards him. 

‘Third. I want to wake up each morning with you by my side and come home to you every night. I want to watch you fight cranky old ladies in the supermarket in my honour, be the first person to taste test all your baking experiments - even the failed ones that are only fit to feed Atsumu. I want us to be happy together. Forever, if possible.’

He lifts her bodily into his lap, brushes his nose against her cheek. ‘Now that I’ve told you what I’m willing to give, is that too much for you to take?’ he murmurs against her lips. 

Her blush blossoms into a deep scarlet, but her eyes are iridescent pools of startled delight. She doesn’t speak, sealing her answer instead with her lips. 

His heart’s compass is irretrievably broken, the needle melted into place. It doesn’t point north any longer, no  – it’s always going to point towards her. 

They move in together after that. 

He gives up his apartment, professing to prefer the warmth and light of hers. The Miyas help him move in even when he tries to refuse their help, Atsumu helping him to lug cardboard boxes up the stairs, Kaiyo helping him sort out his belongings, sorting them into his allocated cupboards. 

When they’re done, they order pizza and she bakes a cake to celebrate. ‘An impromptu housewarming’ she says, toasting Miya Kaiyo with a slice of pepperoni pizza with a laugh.

Kiyoomi shares a slice of chocolate cake with Atsumu in complete defiance of their nutritionist’s advice, jostling forks over the very last bite. She and Kaiyo scold them teasingly, telling them to behave like they’re actually thirty and not teenagers on the cusp of adulthood. Atsumu pulls at Kaiyo’s ponytail in retaliation. He refuses to engage in similar tomfoolery, reddening instead when she reaches over to ruffle his curls.

‘This is nice’, he remarks to Atsumu later, when their significant others are out of earshot, gossiping and giggling about something or other.  

‘It is, isn’t it’, Atsumu replies, a dopey smile on his face as he stares at his wife. 

It truly is , Kiyoomi thinks, staring at her.  

He takes over most of the cleaning, it clears his mind, he tells her. So to split the chores evenly, she insists on doing their laundry and cooking, and he doesn’t even nag her too much when she forgets to split the white and coloured clothes and stains some of his shirts once in a while. 

Wedding invites printed on expensive cream paper and bouquets of white lilies start to litter their doorstep every day. He tries his best to dispose of them before they reach her sight, but every so often, he comes home too late, catches her wilt as she brushes white petals from their doorstep. 

‘I don’t blame either of them’, she tells him, after he asks if she’d like him to call Iwaizumi and tell him to drown himself in a vat of batter, thank you very much. 

‘You’re too kind to both of them’ he says plainly, as they share a pot of tea, his head pillowed in her lap. ‘I would’ve just set them both on fire and left them to rot.’

‘Hajime loved Tooru for almost all his life - I just wanted to see him happy in the end. Argh  - I sound so stupid and sentimental like an old grandma, just laugh at me already’ she complains, hiding her burning cheeks in her hands.  

‘You aren’t stupid for being kind.’ He hums, quiet and low. ‘It’s why I love you so.’ 

He relishes the soft light dawning in her eyes, captures her whispered affection with careful fingers, spins them into gold. 

He has to turn off the stove to answer the door when some rude lout bangs on their front door far too early on a Sunday morning. 

With his coldest sneer and thinking resentfully about his breakfast, Kiyoomi swings the door open, fully intent on looming over the disturbance with his full height, but takes a step back instead when he finds one Iwaizumi Hajime hanging off the door knob. 

‘Hello’, Iwaizumi looks up at him confusedly. 

‘Hi’, he nods a greeting back at his old Olympic team trainer. They stare at each other. 

‘Eh - I think I’ve got the wrong house’, Iwaizumi scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. ‘Sorry about that, Sakusa-san.’

He’s about to close the door in Iwaizumi’s face when her voice chimes in, clear as a bell. 

‘Who’s at the door, Omi?’ 

The shorter man shoots him a look of barely contained rage as he uses his bulk to push his way through the doorway towards her. Kiyoomi tries to stop him, protesting that he can’t barge into someone’s private property without an invitation like that, but it’s as futile an endeavour as trying to block the path of a raging storm.

Iwaizumi reaches her first, raising a hand as if to cup her face by instinct, before letting it fall back limply by his side. ‘You weren’t answering any of my messages or calls’, he says. ‘I was worried about you.’

She stares at him blankly for a moment. Then fire sparks in her eyes. 

‘Well, as you can see, I’m completely fine’, she replies, jaw and fists clenched. ‘You don’t need to do a welfare check on me, we’re not involved anymore.’

The scorching pain in Iwaizumi’s eyes is evident, even from a distance away. ‘Yeah. Well. I thought we were friends. You didn’t even tell me you were dating again’. He shoves his hands in his pockets, tossing another heated glance in Kiyoomi’s way. 

‘I didn’t think I needed to update my ex-fiance about my love life, especially not when he’s trying to drag me to attend his wedding that I already said I’m not going to attend’, she bites back. 

Iwaizumi opens his mouth, then closes it with a resounding snap. ‘I’m sorry’, he says, with heartbreaking honesty. ‘I told Tooru that you probably didn’t want to hear from us, but he insisted and I got worried when I didn’t hear from you for months’. 

Kiyoomi can see her glare soften into molten sympathy. The tension in the air crackles with electricity. He’s neither blind nor stupid – he can sense the years of longing and love not quite lost between them. 

He thinks she loves him, Sakusa Kiyoomi – weird habits, cold disposition and all, but the doubt clogging up his arteries and veins is enough to make his heart seize – and if she’s going to break his heart, he’d much rather she not do it in front of Iwaizumi.  

‘Hajime - ‘ she begins to say, and at this point he jumps in - 

‘I’ll excuse myself so you both have the chance to catch up’, he says, waving aside her protests as he slips on his shoes. Even in his haste to leave the house, he clicks his tongue at the mess Iwaizumi left behind at their  genkan , kneeling down to arrange their shoes, only standing up when he’s satisfied they’re neatly arranged back in place. 

‘Omi, you don’t have to leave’, she says, holding the door open. 

He shrugs his shoulders at her, nose and mouth already obscured by his usual face mask. ‘Let me know when you’d like me to come back’. 

If she’d like him to come back. She doesn’t chase after him, after all.  

It’s a beautiful Sunday morning, but the golden sunshine feels more like a taunt rather than a balm to his mood. His stomach growls, making him long for the scrambled eggs he was in the middle of frying before he was so rudely interrupted, but his growing sense of nausea keeps him from seeking out an alternative meal. 

Instead, he makes his way to the park, sits on a relatively clean bench. There are couples a-plenty, strolling around hand in hand, families picnicking merrily around him, compounding the growing chasm of loneliness in his chest. He tries to count the seconds by his breaths, tries not to let the minutes expand the insecurities crawling, inch by inch up his throat. 

He sits alone. Poised, yet short of breath. 

He wonders if Iwaizumi Hajime has finally figured out that stars, for all their brilliance, cannot compensate for their lack of human kindness. And if so, he wonders which direction her heart would point towards if it were a compass - whether it’s as broken as his, and whether it points towards Iwaizumi or him.   

He waits. 

Then his phone buzzes. 

Ah. 

She’s asking him to come home. He does not dare to overthink the meaning of that single word. But he does not hide that his steps back  home are lighter than when he left, though the key in his hand shakes so hard it takes him three tries to fit it into the keyhole. He does not try to suffocate the seed of hope budding in the soft earth of his heart when he realises Iwaizumi’s shoes have vanished without a trace.  

“Omi?” 

She’s waiting for him, slipping warm arms around his waist, tangling her fingers in his curls, ignoring his complaints about letting himself wash his hands first. 

‘Am I silly for missing you, even though it’s only been an hour?’

He refuses to be distracted by the affection in her voice.

‘But what about Iwaizumi?’ he frowns, hesitation still poisoning the well of thoughts in his mind. 

Perhaps it’s a testament to how well they’ve grown to know each other that she doesn’t need to read the silent subtext of his statement. She smiles, bringing his palm flat against her chest, does not answer until his pulse matches the steady beat of her heart.  

‘I love you , Omi’, she tells him. Her heartbeat does not quicken, her smile does not waver. ‘You told me not to long ago to always be upfront with you about what  I  want so I’m going to be honest with you now - Iwaizumi is only ever going to be my past, and I want you from now on’. 

If her heart were a compass, the steady beat of her heart tells him, it would point only towards him.  

‘That is – if you’ll have me’, she adds, a shadow of doubt suddenly appearing on her face. 

‘Don’t be ridiculous’, he scoffs, burying his nose to breathe in the familiar scent of vanilla in her hair. ‘Who else would I rather have than you?’ 

Who else would he be lucky enough to call his home – a woman with a heart large enough to fit a whole ocean within its depths, with kindness in her eyes and mirth in her smiles. 

She laughs in spite of the salt in her throat and water in her eyes, leaning on her toes in a vain attempt to reach his face. He lifts her into her arms, laughs when she squeals indignantly as her feet only find air, toppling them both onto the couch where he can seat her between his legs, press kisses to her cheeks.  

She’ll tell him later that Iwaizumi came looking for her because he’s never outgrown his overprotective streak, and he’s truly happy for her - for them, because they’ve both moved on with their separate lives. And she ended up agreeing to attend his and Oikawa’s wedding on one condition – that an invitation is extended to him, Sakusa Kiyoomi, to attend with her as his date. 

He’ll tell her later that he’s happy to attend the wedding with her, just not to expect him to smile in any wedding pictures. And more importantly, he’ll tell her in his plain way that the list of expectations he has of their relationship has expanded yet again. 

He’ll lay out his dreams of a pair of matching golden rings to bind them to lifelong companionship, of hellspawn of their own and a dog, maybe two. 

He’ll ask her if it’s too much for him to ask of her.  

She’ll tell him that she’s willing to give him everything he asks for and more. 

It’s Miya Shino’s ninth birthday party. 

He’s retired from volleyball proper, and is thankful he insisted on getting a business degree from Chuo University before going pro, because it comes in handy working alongside Kuroo Tetsuro at the volleyball association. 

Miya Atsumu insists on inviting him to the party, though he supposes he’s invited not by virtue of being a former teammate, but because he’s also Shino’s uncle by marriage now. The thought that he’s related to Miya Atsumu, however distant and most definitely not by blood, still fills him with dread. 

The birthday girl is a little less imbued with her father’s chaotic energy this time, though she still squeals when her birthday cake is unveiled – though to be fair it’s less a cake, more a tower of cupcakes with cream cheese frosting spelling out her name. 

‘Thank you Auntie!’ Shino cries, flinging her arms around her. Kiyoomi flinches at the sight of anyone, even his nine year old niece, coming in close contact with his extremely pregnant wife, but a sharp glare from her subdues any complaint he dares to make. 

He fusses over her the minute he has the chance to corral her away from the clutches of Miya Shino. ‘Are your feet hurting? What about your back? I don’t know why you insist on walking so much when you know the doctor said you should be on bed rest soon’. 

‘Stop fussing, Omi! The baby and I will be fine’, she replies, exasperated. ‘This is the last social event scheduled before I pop and I’m determined to enjoy it while I can.’ Then she scuttles off faster than he imagines her frame allows, leaving him floundering in her wake. 

‘Just let her be’, Miya Atsumu laughs, slapping his back. Kiyoomi is on the verge of pointing out -  pot, meet kettle, reminding Atsumu that the last time Kaiyo was pregnant, Atsumu didn’t stop fretting until she went into labour and delivered a healthy baby boy. But then he remembers the grief etched into Atsumu’s face when Kaiyo miscarried in the stands during a game, so he holds his tongue and rolls his eyes instead. 

‘I’m just worried she’s pushing herself too hard’, he admits in a rare bout of vulnerability. 

Atsumu smiles, genuine for once. ‘Those crazy women, eh? They’re always gonna drive us up the wall, but they’re worth every minute of it.’ 

He looks at her, belly swollen with their first child, peach blossoms blooming in her cheeks. His past self would never imagine that he’d find this much joy and contentment in being a husband and a father, but then again his past self was satisfied coming home alone day after day to a cold apartment. He knows better now - life is so better when he has her, sharing stories of their day of over steaming mugs of tea at their kitchen countertop, listening to her hum as she bakes treats for the weekend, warmth and laughter and love abound in their cosy apartment for two, soon to be three.   

So feeling vaguely drunk though he hasn’t had a drop of alcohol in the months since she whispered during their anniversary dinner that they were expecting, Kiyoomi laughs aloud. 

Atsumu lifts his eyebrows in surprise.

‘She really, really is’, Kiyoomi says, breaking into an unguarded smile.  

If you wanna know more about the backstory of the reader - check out The Astrophile, and if you wanna know more about Miya Atsumu’s relationship with his wife, check out Storm Chaser. 

As always, reblogs and/or comments are so very appreciated <3

Taglist: 

@snoozless @softsakusa @moondaius​ (yeon i’ll be shameless and tag you cos I know you’re an Omi stan!)

[icequeenbae]

Stay with Me (m) | BBH

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Long-distance relationship, established relationship, grumpy Baek, smut

Warnings: explicit content, unprotected sex, upset sex (is there such a thing), oral (f receiving), consent is not explicitly stated but implied

Word Count: ~2.6k

Summary: Baekhyun was upset because you had to leave again. His frustration made things escalate to an unexpected extent. He might’ve just wanted to make you late for the plane though.

© Please do not copy/ post on other platforms without permission.

Let’s celebrate my first ‘writing comeback’ anniversary together ❤❤❤  [February 17, 2020 – forever]

Author’s Note: Soooo… This was actually the first fic I wrote after many years of my writer’s coma. Wasn’t going to post it, but it’s important to save the date. A year ago during a business trip I was listening to Baekhyun’s ‘Stay Up’ in the backseat of a cab, and it suddenly got to me in a very new and profound way. As soon as I got to the hotel, the doc was created. Countless sleepless nights later, I can admit that I haven’t really stopped writing ever since.

Baekhyun isn’t just my bias or my favourite character to write, he’s so much more special to me than that. I’m not sure how long this journey is going to last or where it leads me, but so far he’s gifted me with one full year of this magic. He’ll always have a precious spot in my heart 🤍

Okay, done with the sappy times now (no). As usual – big thanks to @baekshoney​​​ for having a look, and I hope you guys enjoy this little oneshot!

This was one of those days. One of the days you hated, and Baekhyun didn’t do much to make it better for you. On the contrary, he was sulking since early morning. First, because you’d left him alone in bed and he woke up being cold. Then he just kept getting annoyed with everything. Why were you having coffee for breakfast again, when you should sleep on the plane? Why weren’t you packing snacks, when the airport food always made your stomach upset? You should’ve definitely worn one of his hoodies, since none of yours were warm and comfy enough, did he have to remind you?

Yes, this was the day you had to fly back home, leaving him behind once again. Which was exactly what brought his tsundere ways to the surface. He was just… upset.

‘Baby, it’s not the first time I’m going home, I’ll be fine,’ you grinned at his grumpy expression and poured him a cup of coffee as soon as he sat his butt down on the kitchen stool.

Baekhyun wasn’t exactly subtle in how he felt about you going away. The two of you had been doing this ‘long-distance thing’ since the very beginning of your relationship. You’d met during your first ever trip to Korea around two years ago and instantly clicked – just like that – not spending a single day without at least a quick message exchange with one another.

It was tough at times. There was no way for you to see each other more frequently, and you were often apart for months. Granted, you were keeping in touch religiously – texting every single day, having video calls every other night (whenever you could manage the schedules and time zones), posting ambiguous pictures on social media only for each other to understand. Still, you missed each other so terribly…

‘I don’t understand why you have to go anyway, you can just stay here with me,’ Baekhyun grumbled, eyeing the kitchen floor with a frown. You pursed your lips to contain the coo about to fly out of your mouth at how cute he was, pouting and complaining. Like an angry little bird. Before you could stop yourself, you reached out your hand and ruffled his already messy bedroom hair.

The way his nose scrunched up meant he wasn't in the mood to be playful. You sighed and leaned on the corner of the kitchen table.

‘You know I have work to get back to, Bae, I can’t be on vacation all year long.’

He was being rather childish about your departure, especially when you were already fully dressed and ready to go. The only thing stalling you was that Chanyeol, who insisted on being your ride to the airport today, hadn’t come to pick you up just yet, giving you some time to smooth over your boyfriend’s feathers.

Truth be told, you were only holding up the appearances for him. It was very possible that you were even more upset about having to go than he was. In fact, every time your week or two together were nearing an end, you felt nauseous at the thought that you wouldn’t be able to see his face, or hold his hand, or feel his warm breath on your skin, or kiss the tiny mole on his cheek.

In all honesty, you were... a mess. You only displayed yourself as calm and collected during your goodbyes because you knew his moodiness was merely a tactic to conceal his pain. So, you tucked your own feelings away to make it a bit more manageable for him. In reality, you broke down as soon as you arrived home and walked into your lifeless apartment. Each time, you had to find excuses and avoid talking to him via video messengers during those initial weeks, pretending to suddenly be swamped at work. You realized that seeing your eyes all red and puffy from crying every night would most definitely break his heart and worsen his longing. That you knew, because seeing him unhappy was excruciating. You wanted more than anything to deliver him from any further suffering.

It took all of your self-restraint not to reach out for his warm embrace or let the tears flow freely. He’d probably not let you go then, always telling you to just stay with him anyways. But you were both adults and had commitments, although hundreds and thousands of miles apart.

As your eyes were beginning to prick from observing his state and getting overwhelmed with your own feelings, you decided it was safer to move out ten minutes early, despite the call from Yeol not coming through yet. Anything to not let Baekhyun see you cry or cling to him desperately the way you wished to in that moment.

‘Well, you can pout all you want, I’m going to get my stuff,’ you said in an airy tone trying to elevate his mood slightly.

‘No.’

He stopped you in your tracks, grabbing your wrist. You gazed at him, confused as to what he meant. He was still looking down, eyebrows knitted together and chest heaving with almost anxious breaths.

‘Bae?’

‘No,’ he repeated, softer this time, but still not making eye contact with you. Instead, he tugged at your wrist and pulled you closer to him. You felt his grasp weaken until your wrist was free, however, your waist was not. His arms snaked around it, and he pulled you into himself, basically nuzzling his face into your chest.

‘Baekhyun?’ You squeaked, doing your best to fight off the goosebumps that littered your skin immediately after the contact. Your body never once asked for permission to react to him, and this time was no exception. His right hand traveled down your spine to the curve of your ass as his nose nudged one of your breasts. You shivered, grabbing at his shoulders, and he suddenly growled, knowing, sensing that your nipples had already perked up underneath the fabric of your bra.

Although he was trying to put you into one of his many oversized hoodies all the time, it was summer, so you were wearing a sundress (like any sane person would). Lucky for Baekhyun, this type of clothing made it even easier for him.

He rose from his seat and hoisted you up so abruptly that you only managed to yelp and grab at his neck for balance. You were then placed on the empty side of the dining table away from the leftover breakfast. Looking down at where your boyfriend’s hands were, you watched him frantically pull your dress up, before coming to your senses and trying to stop him.

‘Bae… What are you doing? Yeol is gonna be here any minute, we can’t just f…ugh!’ You cried out in surprise as he yanked your hips forcefully up to his face, completely ignoring your words. There’s no way he was going to...

‘Baekhyunie, please stop, you know I’m going to be late, what is…’ He didn’t even let you finish your rant, leaving a trail of insistent wet kisses upon the sensitive skin along the panty line while leading up to your protruding hip bone. Breath caught up in your throat, you couldn’t get the rest of the sentence out even if you wanted to. Did you really want to? With his head right there between your thighs, his dark burning eyes looking at you – completely immobilized by him – in the most intense and intimate way possible. His lips were glistening after he ran his tongue over them habitually, and when he leaned in and licked at your still clothed center, you belatedly realized that you weren’t even breathing. The realization only came with the wheezing gasp you’d let out, when your legs wrapped around his head as if on cue. Like fuel to the fire, your responsiveness only spurred him on. You didn’t even have time to realize that your boyfriend had already moved your panties out of the way when his impatient lips were on you again.

‘B- Baekhyun…’ You muttered, reaching your hand down to give pushing his head away a feeble try. ‘We can’t do this now, please stop... the airport…’

His ears seemed deaf to your reluctant pleas as he only employed more of his tongue to make you lose the last bits of your sober mind completely, melting and thrashing underneath his touch. He eased one of your thighs off of his shoulder, pushing it up and spreading you out before diving back in, paying no attention to your increasingly disheveled state.

At this point you could only sob, speech incoherent, all attempts to push him away or close your legs futile. And that alone made him grow feverish with the need to be inside you, to feel you once again before he had to let you go.

He was really good with his mouth, as usual, so by the time one of his hands left your thigh to tease you a little further with his long deft fingers you were so ready to take more that you barely registered the burn of two digits sliding inside. You were still a little sore from the night before, which you’d spent making love for hours on end, knowing that you won’t be touching each other anytime soon. But that was meaningless now.

His tongue expertly swirled around your clit, while his wrist found a familiar angle that always made you get vocal. Your back arched instantly as you cried out his name, barely grasping that you were still tugging at his soft locks and possibly causing discomfort. It was clear that your release was mere seconds away with your legs shaking and inner muscles clenching, and that was exactly where Baekhyun wanted you. Aching for his touch, needing him as much as he needed you. Just the two of you, caught up in the act of lustful desperation.

He’d worked his tongue diligently, almost pushing you over the edge by sucking on your most sensitive spot for just a second, and... then you suddenly felt him pull away.

‘No, no- what?’ You could barely form sentences, let alone complain, but your frenzied tone made his already rock-hard flesh twitch. His pants were down in seconds, and there wasn’t even a thought of pausing to get a condom on or cool off a little bit. You were both on the verge of getting overwhelmed by this passionate longing when... your phone suddenly lit up, indicating an incoming call. Before you could snap out of the moment you were having, Baekhyun had you flat on your back, all slick and ready for him to push inside. And that he did — in one quick and rough movement, filling you up and giving you no time to even make a sound before his hips tested you out with a couple of low amplitude thrusts. The table moved slightly, soft clanking of tableware falling on deaf ears. Meanwhile, Baekhyun grabbed onto your hips, lifting your ass in the air for more control over the penetration.

‘Baek, I swear… You have like 2 minutes before Chan-’ A vicious thrust reached further than before, definitely getting your friend’s name out of your mind for good. And anything else for that matter.

Baekhyun snapped his hips as if he wanted to get as deep as humanly possible, as if he wanted to literally ruin you, and you could only scratch at his forearm while losing yourself in the feeling of his hips colliding with yours and the delectable sounds the action produced.

‘Baby,’ Baekhyun suddenly breathed out hoarsely, eyebrows knitted together as if in pain, ‘I can’t hold it off-’

Hearing his voice so strenuous and somehow vulnerable, you threw your head back and closed your eyes, spreading your legs further apart to allow him to better angle his powerful thrusts.

Your limbs were starting to grow numb and the veins on your neck popped when you moaned, and that’s when Baekhyun let out a strained ‘ah’, holding you in place by the hips to give you his erratic final thrusts.

In that moment you felt like something snapped inside you. Your core was tight around your lover’s cock, your body shaking in pre-orgasmic bliss, and you’d never experienced it this way. You felt so full and content in this moment when he was still moving his hips and groaning stiffly above you, riding out his high. There was nothing else he needed to do to take you along. The sensation of his warmth inside you made you pulsate, wailing so loudly that Baekhyun had to cover your mouth with his palm. He kept going for a bit to prolong your orgasm and let you slowly come back to your senses.

Your eyes stared vacantly at the kitchen ceiling and your throat was dry, although Baekhyun’s hand was still clasped over your mouth. When both of you managed to catch your breath, you just gazed at each other for a few long moments. You were so spent that you couldn’t even read the semi-blank expression on his face. He slowly slipped his palm off of your face, still hovering over your body.

‘Baekhyunie…’ You murmured, touching his cheek gently. He was usually lowkey annoyed whenever you went on to kiss the little mole on his face instead of his lips. This time, however, he only lowered his head further to let you do your thing. You pressed your lips to the tiny dot on his skin, leaning back onto the table to find his eyes with your own.

‘I love you,’ he suddenly whispered in a broken voice, then cleared his throat and started over. ‘I really want you to stay with me.’

It was… bittersweet.

You winced, feeling him pull out, and accepted his help sitting up. Holding your boyfriend close by the shirt, you nudged his nose with yours and looked up to his sad dejected eyes.

‘I know, Bae,’ your voice sounded as uplifting as you could manage. ‘I will find a way to come see you on tour in the next couple of months, I promise.’

Baekhyun was about to say something else if not for the sudden ring of his phone that made both of you snap out of your tiny little world.

‘Dang, I bet it’s Yeol. Pick up!’ You pushed your boyfriend towards the phone and eased down from the table, grabbing the tissues to clean up quickly.

‘Yes,’ Baekhyun responded.

‘Are you two fucking?!’ Your nose scrunched up at Chanyeol’s vulgar shout.

‘Yes?’ At this you paused and smacked Baekhyun’s pec for the shameless (yet truthful) response. ‘Whoa- feisty. Chanyeol-ah, better hang up before you hear her- Ow!’ He raised an arm to defend himself from your playful hits.

‘You realize that if you do not come down in ten you’re most likely missing the flight?’ You heard Chanyeol reply after a frustrated sigh.

‘Not a problem for m-’ Baekhyun was interrupted by your yell.

‘We’re gonna be down in ten, please check the fastest routes to the airport, Yeolie!’

You ran out of the kitchen barely catching Baekhyun’s grumbling as he repeated after you.

‘Yeolie. Why the hell does she even call you that. It’s not like you- What? Shut up, you bastard!’

You smiled to yourself. At least his friends knew how and when to mess with him. If you weren’t there… They got him. He'd be okay. And with that you were happy for now.

A/N:This piece was my reintroduction to writing, and I’d love to hear any type of comments you have^^  Thank you guys for all the interaction and amazing responses so far, I cherish each and every one of them. You're the best <3

[thefanficmonster]

Not Alone

Valkyrae (Rae) x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Mention of death of a pet, Grieving

Genre: Fluff, Comfort, Angst

Summary: When Y/N doesn’t join the scheduled stream of Among Us with some cheap reasoning that everyone else falls for, Rae is far from convinced. She goes on to check the situation on her own just for her suspicions and worries to be confirmed further - something is off about Y/N and Rae is nothing if not determined to find out what.

Requested by @alex3atsbugs  Hello dear, consider this my farewell to the adorable little Marceline, I hope the cutie is looking down at us from heaven right now. Marceline, I might not have known you but I miss and love you regardless.  You have a special place in our hearts and you will never be forgotten. All my love, Vy ❤

“Ok so we’re only waiting on Lily now, right?“ Sykkuno asks, adjusting his earbuds as he scans over the settings for the game since he was the one to create the lobby which is now almost complete - lacking one more astronaut before the game can start.

Rae, who’s been scrolling through Instagram, looking at fanart and edits, snaps her head up to look at her computer monitor with confusion written all over her features, her brows furrowed, “Wait, what about Y/N? Aren’t they coming?”

This sudden change has surprised Rae more than someone would consider reasonable. But, in her eyes, it’s perfectly reasonable and justifiable considering Y/N has never skipped a stream nor have they ever not reported to her even for the tiniest of things such as running late. Even if they are not joining today, which is a huge oddity in and of itself, they would’ve definitely told Rae about it.

“Oh, no they won’t be joining us today. They said they were experiencing some technical troubles.” Sykkuno replies nonchalantly which aggravates Rae a tiny bit. She cannot comprehend how no one else is seeing anything odd here. Maybe it has something to do with how attentive she is when it comes to Y/N - she’s not sure why, but she is - or maybe it’s just a gut instinct but regardless, she can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong. Not to mention that in all their years of streaming together on Twitch and now on YouTube never has Y/N dealt with technical difficulties that led to them not being able to stream. 

Y/N is the type of organized person that is constantly on top of things. They’d never let a technical difficulty get between them and providing their fans with entertainment. Chances are, if there really was an issue, it would’ve been fixed by now and even if it wasn’t...

Y/N would’ve let me know they wouldn’t be joining, Rae’s mind screams, almost altering her calm facial expression. 

“Hey can you give me about five minutes? My router’s acting up, I’ll restart it.“ Rae blurts out without as much as a second thought. Her thoughts are elsewhere right now, she’s got more important things to worry about. Luckily, her ability of rational thinking pushes through to the surface even without her guidance. 

She mutes her in-game and stream mics, takes her phone and rises from her chair, giving the camera what she hopes is a more apologetic rather than distressed smile before walking off-frame. Once out of view, she dials Y/N’s number, tapping her foot anxiously as she waits for her call to be picked up.

“Hello?“ When it does get answered, she’s met with a sniff before the weak voice utters the hesitant greeting word.

“Hey Y/N! What’s up?“ Rae tried to balance her question between a ‘what’s up?‘ in the ‘what’s wrong?‘ sense and the usual cheerful greeting she uses it as. She doesn’t want to end up seeming paranoid.

“Oh, hey, Rae. Nothing much. Aren’t you supposed to be streaming right now?“ Y/N’s tone raises a bit as they try to apply a bit more energy and enthusiasm into their words, presumably to erase any suspicion that sniffle might’ve caused in their friend who appears to have a sixth sense for when things are up with the people they care about. Or with Y/N specifically.

“Um...“ Rae spares the stream set-up a skeptical look, buying herself time to think of an excuse to partner her negation. She doesn’t want to lie to Y/N but she’s aware that they’ll be quick to ditch the conversation and postpone it if she admits to indeed be streaming. “Um, no, not yet. We scheduled it a bit later. Will you be joining us?“

“Uh, no, sorry, I won’t be able to. I’m sick and feeling like absolute crap so...“

Rae automatically stops listening, not on purpose, she just can’t hear Y/N’s voice over the alarms going off in her head, screaming at here that there’s something SERIOUSLY wrong. The stories not adding up - neither of them making sense to begin with - the lack of any authentic energy in Y/N’s voice, that sniffle she heard at the start of the call. It’s all so scarily wrong that it sends Rae one second away from entering full panic mode.

“I thought you were having technical difficulties.“ She blurts out without any thought of it’d make Y/N feel or how it would change the course of the conversation. 

Y/N inhales sharply as if caught completely off-guard and backed up into a corner, “Oh, yeah, that too. My computer keeps crashing.” Being backed up into a figurative corner doesn’t stop them from trying to further pursue this lie they’ve come up with. A lie so blatant and obvious there’s really no point in them trying to keep it going. Yet they choose to do exactly that.

“Y/N, you’re BSing me, you should know better than that!“ Rae whines almost desperately, “Please, tell me what’s going on? We’re friends, I don’t deserve to be kept in the dark, Y/N!“

There’s silence on the other end, loud silence that almost sends Rae into a breakdown. Some may consider it an overreaction, but let me ask you - wouldn’t you be upset and worried if someone you immensely care about was acting oddly and completely out of character.

“You’re going to think it’s ridiculous.“ Y/N’s voice cracks, letting it be known, clear as day, that they are barely balancing on the edge between keeping it together and crying.

“Of course I won’t, baby! I would never! Talk to me.“ Rae pursues, her heart breaking a little at the sound of her friend’s sadness. It’s taking a really big toll on her, not being able to hold Y/N in her arms instead of trying to gauge out their answers over the phone which is proving to be not at all effective or helpful to either of them.

Y/N sniffles again, “My hamster, Marcy...” She inhales to prevent a sob from escaping her lungs, “...died this morning.”

Rae has heard enough to be sent into action.

                                                            *  *  *

“Thank you so much, Rae. I would’ve probably stayed in bed all day with no effort to keep living whatsoever. You’re an amazing person, I hope you know that.“ Y/N gives the hand of Rae’s that’s holding hers a small squeeze, “I’m so lucky to have you.“

The two friends have been sitting on the couch in Y/N’s living room, the atmosphere a mix of melancholy and comfort. The comfort Rae’s been offering Y/N for the past hour or so has been almost entirely silent, in the form of physical affection, to be exact - hugs, soothing backrubs, gentle abstract patterns drawn on their arm, playing with their hair etc. Needless to say, it’s been far more effective than the attempt of calming them down and helping them out over a phone call.

“Don’t ever thank me for being your friend, Y/N. The honor’s all mine“ Rae rubs Y/N’s shoulder reassuringly, resting her head against theirs.

“Rae, you ditched a whole damn stream for me! Of course I’m gonna thank you! Who else would do that for me?“ Y/N protests, their glossy eyes looking up at Rea, lit up by the small smile that has managed to make its way onto their face.

“Only someone utterly stupid and heartless WOULDN’T do that for you.“ Rae says firmly, holding stern eye-contact with her friend.

Y/N looks away almost shyly, smile growing wider, their cheeks becoming rosier. “You have a way with words, you know...” They bite their lip nervously, “Could you help me express my emotions in the post I’ve been planning to make all day? My fans loved Marcy and I’m sure they’ll be as crushed as I am, I just want to appear strong so they don’t worry about me, you know?” They shrug their shoulders hesitantly as another tear escapes their eye.

Rae carefully and gently wipes their tear away with her knuckles, “Of course, Y/N. You don’t have to do this alone - you don’t have to do ANYTHING alone. Because you are never alone - you’ll always have me.”

Something about what Rae just said and the way she said it has struck a nerve in Y/N that has provoked a few more tears to spill out of their eyes as they somehow manage to whisper a: “Thank you” before throwing their arms around Rae, enveloping her entirely in the warmest of embraces. 

Meanwhile....

“Yo guys, how long does it take for a router to be reset?“ Sykkuno asks his fellow ghostie buds out of the blue.

“Less than five minutes. Why?“ Lily replies.

“Cause Rae said she’d reset her router and be back but she’s been gone for two hours so....“

[allthingskakashi]

8 please🥺🥺🥺

• Under Grey Skies •

[ Kakashi x Reader] // 3k

Fluff Prompt : “No, like... it’s just, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes” // Kakashi x Reader

A/n: This was supposed to be "short" but i unfortunately do not comprehend that word. Dunno what that is mate never heard of it, and i also haven't written in a month and have become quite rusty so here i hope you enjoy this 3k worded hot pile of stinking poo 👍🏼😃

When you left your house at 10 am this morning, the skies were clear as glass. No clouds in sight, and a brightly glowing Sun perched high overhead. That was the very reason you’d chosen today to get done with your errands, the hundreds of errands you’d been putting off for weeks now.

Not so surprisingly however, fate had been pulling a dirty prank on you. Soon after you left the house, dark grey splotches appeared across the sky, engulfing the sunny rays and shortly afterwards, the streets began to ring with the sound of splattering rain.

So here you are now, standing on the roadside under the shed of Ichiraku Ramen with a hand full of heavy bags, watching the thundering rains which show no sign of stopping any time soon. You are unquestionably without an umbrella, and the handles of the big brown bags in your hands are beginning to leave painful red lines across your palms.

You have no idea how long this wretched rain will go on for and by the looks of it, you’re in for a long haul, so you decide that you might as well make yourself comfortable.

Letting out a loud sigh and muttering a string of expletives under your breath, you put your bags down on the counter of the ramen shop. Your stomach grumbles as you take a seat on one of stools, your eyes falling upon the menu chart stuck to the wall, with names of all sorts of ramen variants written on it, complete with matching bright pictures alongside.

Hot ramen. That sounds so good right now.

But taking a peek inside your purse, you’re met with disappointment. You’d only come out with enough money for your errands and with what you have left, the best you can get is one candy. And not even the good kind.

You sit waiting with your drenched clothes sticking to your body, drops of water rolling down from the tips of your hair to your lap. Out ahead, the rain is creating puddles of water on the street, and you watch the rush of pedestrians hurrying to get home, eager to avoid ending up in your state.

If it weren’t for all these bags, you might have been able to do the same.

Someone runs past you, sending a big splash of water to your feet as you retreat further into your stool, letting out another sigh.

Of course, this happens to me.

Your plan was to finish all your errands and pick up some stuff for lunch. Your busy schedule hadn’t allowed you to cook yourself a nice meal in a long time and you really wanted to use this weekend off to cook yourself something delicious, have a glass of wine, read a book and relax within the comfort of your home. The home which you barely got to spend any time in these days. But of course, you’re stuck out in the streets in the pouring rain instead.

You remain sitting for you’re not sure how long. The streets have long cleared up. The same however cannot be said for the rain, which has only grown worse in the past half an hour. You’re frustrated out of your mind, counting sheep in your head when suddenly, the frame of a familiar figure on the road catches your eye. Your heart instinctively does a flip at the sight of the silver haired man, who seems to be walking towards you in slow, careless saunter.

You feel the panic in your throat rise and steadily grow into a lump. This day has been horrible enough already, without the disaster of Kakashi seeing you in this pitiful state to add to it. You’ve already made a fool of yourself in front of him more times than you’d like to admit, thanks to your awkward, clumsy self and you don’t need it again, especially not today. There’s just something about Kakashi that makes the wiring in your brain go completely haywire, causing you to end up acting like an imbecile every single time you're around him.

You straighten up in your stool as you see him nearing, tucking a clump of wet hair behind your ear as the thud inside your heart grows louder and louder with each of his approaching steps. But before you’re able to steady your breath, he’s right outside the shop, lifting the white banner to let himself in.

“Y/n?” he exclaims, folding his umbrella and shaking it off as takes your sight in. “What are you doing out here in the rain?”

He’s standing closer to you than your heart can take and you clear your throat before answering.

“Oh, I just… came out for errands and didn’t anticipate the rain.” You say, rolling your eyes and glancing at the cluster of bags behind you. You watch his eyes dart towards them before returning to you. “You look like you did, though” you say, pointing at the umbrella in his hand with a smile.

He looks down, shaking his head, “Ah, that’s just my ninken. They have a nose for this sort of thing, so they let me know beforehand.” He says, returning your smile.

You watch the way his mask creases as he smiles, the air surrounding you falling into a comfortable silence as you watch him in awe, a stupid grin plastered across your face. It almost feels like you’re having a moment, and it could’ve been a good one, had your stomach not let out a loud, hungry growl in the middle of it.

Your demeanour changes immediately, the grin on your face receding as your eyebrows shoot up and you feel a warm rush creep its way to your cheeks.

Kakashi lets out a chuckle, looking otherwise unaffected. “It seems like you’re hungry.” he says, stating the obvious.

“Yeah, I uh…” you fumble, averting your eyes to avoid looking at him, “didn’t have breakfast today.”

“Well, come on then.” Kakashi replies flatly, nodding his head towards the direction of the street. Beyond him, the clouds are grumbling, the rain still falling in a steady splatter.

You look up at his words, the thud in your heart making itself known once again. “Come… where?”

He looks at you as if you asked him what the color of grass is.

“Well you didn’t think I was gonna leave you out here, did you?” he asks, his tone implying that you shouldn’t even have thought of such a stupid question.

“Well i was actually pretty much preparing to spend the night here today” you reply with a relieved chuckle, before jumping down from your stool.

"Sorry to spoil your plans, then" he says and you turn around, reaching for the bags on the counter but Kakashi gets to them before you. “Let me” he interjects, pulling the heavy bags down from the counter as if they were cotton.

“You take this” he commands, holding the umbrella out to you as he distributes your bags evenly between each of his hands.

In spite of the somersaults that your stomach is making inside your body, you feel pretty grateful to have run into him.

“I have to say, I’m kind of glad you came along” you say, flashing him a big grin and watching his eyes beam with a shy smile as you take the umbrella from him, turning around to face the rain outside, which all of a sudden, doesn’t seem so bad anymore.

Kakashi stands close behind you as you stretch out the umbrella and hold it above your heads, both of you stepping out onto the wet slippery street.

You balance it high enough so it covers Kakashi’s head and make your way ahead, trying your best not to step into any puddles.

“My place is just around the corner” he remarks, crouching ever so slightly and nestling close to you to fit himself under the umbrella. “We’ll be there within five minutes.”

That’s a damn shame is what you want to say, but instead, you just nod.

The umbrella is too small for the both of you to be cramped under, and you can’t help the constant bumping of your arms with each alternate step.

Every nerve in your body is high on alert, exceedingly aware of Kakashi’s proximity to you and with every light brush of his bare forearm against yours, you feel a shiver run through your skin, the hair in your arm standing up in consequence. You wonder if Kakashi can feel it, but you suppose even if he did, it could just be blamed on the strong gusts of cold wind.

“The rain is kind of beautiful though, isn’t it?” you interrupt, more to distract yourself than anything else.

Kakashi turns his face, peering down at you as his mouth drawls into a slow smile. “It sure is.” he says, and it almost feels like he wants to add something more, but he doesn’t.

Raindrops pound heavily down on the umbrella covering you, its rhythmic sound matching the beats of your own heart. You continue walking without exchanging any more words, the silence between you cut only by the rain, your heartbeat and the squeaky noise of your slippers.

You put all your concentration into fixating your gaze on the ground, attempting not only to make sure you avoid an embarrassing slip or a fall, but to ignore the little voice in your head. The voice that has constantly been whispering into your ears, planting all sorts of seeds in your mind about what it would be like, to just reach your hand out right now and grip Kakashi’s hand, which is so so close to you, intertwining his long fingers with yours.

You shake your head, shoving the temptation away and look up at Kakashi, scooting closer to ensure you don’t push him out into the rain.

For someone cramped under a small umbrella in the heavy rain, carrying another person’s bags, you notice that he looks quite…unbothered. Up this close, you cannot help observing how beautiful his eyelashes are, and you resist, for the hundredth time, the urge to press yourself against him and litter his face with kisses.

Your reverie is broken, and thankfully so by the sound of his voice. “We’re here”, he says, stopping in front of an old building and pushing open the small iron gate with his foot, stepping aside to let you in first.

You might be making this up, but you think you heard him sound almost disappointed.

You gaze up at the white four storeyed building in front of you. The jounin headquarters. Being a chunnin yourself, you’ve never been here before. And until today, you never thought you would any time soon, especially under this kind of a circumstance.

Stepping inside under the shade, you close the umbrella, finding yourself wishing that the jounin quarters weren’t quite so close by. Kakashi follows in after you with the bags and the both of you make your way up a long winding staircase. The metal bannister looks rusty, like it hasn’t been furnished in a long time. You climb up three flights of stairs, before stopping outside a door on the fourth floor.

Looking around, you notice that there are two more doors other than Kakashi’s on this floor, but they seem to be unoccupied. Your damp clothes cling to your skin and you can feel a small chill run through you.

“I feel kind of bad, intruding upon you like this” you say, rubbing your arms and waiting as Kakashi scours his pocket for the keys. “Are you sure I’m not interrupting anything?”

“Just a lonely afternoon”, he answers reassuringly, before jamming a key into the lock and pushing the door open.

“Come on in”, he says as you step inside, taking the view of his living room in and telling yourself again and again that you really are in Kakashi Hatake’s apartment. It’s a small one, but well maintained and with minimal clutter. Behind you, Kakashi hangs his wet vest on a hook in the wall and keeps your bags down on the floor.

“y/n you’re shivering”, he says in a concerned tone, looking up at your shuddering body dripping water all over his floor.

“Shit! I’m so sorry, I’m making such a mess” you say, noticing the small puddle of water that has formed near your feet. “Do you have a towel or anything I could wipe this off with?” you ask, your face borrowing the look of an apologetic dog who’s made a mess on the carpet.

“Leave all that to me” Kakashi says, waving you off and guiding you towards his bathroom by your shoulders. “Go take a hot shower and get changed into some warm clothes. Can’t have a shinobi of the Leaf fall sick under my watch.”

His tone is enough to make you melt into a mush and you comply, stepping into his bathroom as he disappears into another room. “Towels are in the shelf!” you hear him yell as you study his bathroom cabinet. Like his living room, his bathroom cabinet is also devoid of any clutter and only occupied by the bare essentials.

You turn the switch to the geyser on, waiting for the water to get hot as Kakashi reappears in the doorway, clutching a pair of his clothes. “Here”, he says, holding the clothes out to you. “I suppose they will be a little loose on you, but—”

“It’s perfect.”, you cut him off. “Thank you, Kakashi. I’m really… I’m really thankful for this.” You say, taking the clothes from him.

“It’s no big deal” he smiles. “I’ll be outside” he says and you nod, closing the door.

The water is just the right amount of warm and you take a blissful shower, the bliss of the moment only intensified by the realisation that you, Y/n, are really in Kakashi Hatake’s house. Not just in his house, but also in his bathroom, using his towels and wearing his clothes.

You wipe yourself dry, hanging your discarded clothes on the rack beside an already hanging trouser and slip yourself into the fresh pair of clothes. It’s a baggy grey t shirt and navy blue trousers, both quite loose against your frame. The t shirt runs past your thighs but the trousers thankfully have strands which you have tied tightly enough, so you hope they won’t slip down any time soon.

You catch a glimpse of your face in the cabinet mirror and find yourself glowing. But more than your skin, it’s probably your heart giving you that glow. You pull the shirt up to your nose, inhaling the smell in. It smells just like you thought Kakashi would. Comforting… familiar, like something that makes you feel at home. Like the smell of crayons from your childhood, or freshly baked cookies.

Smiling to yourself and revelling in the pure comfort and warmth of his clothes, you step out, fanning your wet hair out with your hand

A delicious smell hits your nose almost immediately, and you’re reminded of how completely starved you are.

You step further into the dining area, and find Kakashi in the kitchen adjacent to it, doing something on the gas. You notice that he’s changed into a pair of fresh clothes too, and seeing him in anything other than his uniform for the first time makes something flip inside you.

He turns around, his eyes lighting up immediately as he catches sight of you. You watch him look you up and down, before breaking into a boyish chuckle.

“What?” you ask confused, looking at him and then down at yourself. “Oh crap, I’m wearing the shirt inside out, Jesus!” you say, huffing as you attempt to make a turn back towards the bathroom.

“Oh, no that’s not it” you hear Kakashi object behind you, shaking his head.

You stop at the sound of his voice, turning around as he speaks. “I wasn’t laughing at you. Although… you do look a little funny��

You narrow your eyes at Kakashi and he raises his hands up in defence. “Just a little!” he protests as you make an eyeroll in reply, before pressing on. “What is it, then?”

You watch his muscles tense up ever so slightly, as he flips something on the pan a few times before looking back at you, his dark eyes sombre.

“No, like...” he fumbles, “it’s just, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes.” He says softly.

You feel a warm rush of blood creep up to your cheeks as you look down, burning under the intensity of his gaze. Your fingers fidget with the hem of his shirt as you scour your brain to come up with something, anything to say.

Thankfully for you, the oven timer dings, attracting his attention away from you and putting you out of your quandary.

“What’s that?” you ask, drawing nearer to him to take a peek at everything he seems to have strewn about on the kitchen counter.

His words still ring at the back of your mind, lying in a thick cloak around you, making your heart beat faster than it usually does, even around him.

“It’s nothing much, you were hungry, so…I just whipped something up.” he says, but judging by the smell, you’re pretty sure that it’s nothing he has “just whipped up”.

“It smells delicious, Kakashi”, you say, almost feeling yourself choking up. You cannot recall the last time someone had prepared a meal for you. And now, here you are, standing in Kakashi Hatake’s kitchen, and he had not only saved your pitiful ass from the rain and invited you to his house and let you shower at his place but he had also cooked a meal for you. For YOU, with his own two hands.

You feel your stomach twisting and turning in all sorts of ways, but it’s not just the hunger. It’s something else and the realisation dawns upon you that if it’d mean ending up in Kakashi’s kitchen in this way again, you’d gladly be stranded in the cold rain out on the streets a thousand times over, and then a hundred more.

His voice breaks you out of your trance for the second time that day and you look up at him, his beautiful face formed into the most charming smile you’ve ever seen. He holds a hand out, gesturing towards the table where he seems to have carefully laid out two plates.

“Come on, let’s eat?” he says, and you follow along, thanking the universe silently in your heart for making it rain today.

[liveindaydreamswithhim]

Dance Practice

A small blurb of Harry and his girlfriend practicing the choreography for TPWK.

Word Count: 2.3K 

“You are starting the side steps too fast,” Y/N huffed again, wisps of baby hair clinging to her forehead due to sweat.

Harry huffed a breath of annoyance and turned off the track playing with the remote he held in his hand. His voice stopped ringing throughout the living room that was now surprisingly bare, since all the furniture was pulled to the side towards the wall in order to give them some space to practice the choreography.

“Maybe the song was going too slow,” he retorted and he grabbed his water bottle from the floor, drinking a few sips to quench his thirst after practicing the dance moves for the past hour. Harry’s dry throat felt immediately better, but the prickling he was experiencing subsided too fast, almost to the point where it hurt him and he blamed the coldness of the water. He quickly hid a cough knowing that it would definitely earn him a scold from Y/N, who always warned him about the dangers of sudden temperature change to the body.

Y/N rolled her eyes and walked over to him, taking the water bottle away because she knew that if he drank too much, his left side would hurt after practicing the routine a few more times and also, she would be able to hear the water from his stomach and that shit always made her laugh, thus making the dance practice impossible to continue.

She threw herself on the sofa pushed to the far-right side of the room and stretched her legs in front of her to get rid off any soreness caused by the amount of time she spent working them out. Y/N looked up at Harry whose breathing was finally stabilising. He was wearing black cotton sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt that he kept using to wipe of the sweat off his face like he was doing at that moment. The t-shirt lifted and a sliver of skin showed, revealing the fern tattoos on either side of his hips that were now glistering with sweat. Y/N bit her lip and averted her attention to his feet, which were clad in pink fuzzy socks that she swore belonged to her and she smiled fondly when she remembered Harry exclaiming that he needed them to make the side slides of the choreography cooler, even if that meant that he nearly slipped during the rest of the routine.

“What are you smiling about, eh?” Harry said, one side of his mouth lifting in a smirk.

Y/N raised her gaze, “Only how terrible of a dancer you are.”

“Hey,” he exclaimed looking hurt.

Y/N giggled knowing that it drew the wanted reaction out of him. She placed her chin in her hand and thought about the time a few weeks before when Harry asked her to be his partner in learning the choreography for his new video clip in order to help him practice. She remembered how he approached the subject by first announcing to her that he would release a video clip for Treat People With Kindness and he then turned shy and reluctantly confessed that the concept was going to be dancing. Y/N been very surprised when she heard him, not being able to picture him in sync with other people dancing. Harry then did something she did not expected and engulphed her hand into his big ones clad in rings and pulled it in his lap, thumb brushing over the inner part of her wrist. She knew that he only did that when she needed comfort, but then realised that this time perhaps he was comforting himself.

And that was when he asked her to learn the routine with him.

Y/N remembered that her mouth opened in shock and that she was left staring into his emerald green eyes that were looking back with a hopeful glance. She understood then that there was nervousness hidden behind them because he was going to do something outside his comfort zone, something completely unfamiliar and he needed her next to him for support. Really the decision was made for her the moment Harry deeply stared in her eyes, puffing his bottom lip out, a few curls falling in his face.

Y/N could never say no to him and that brings her in that particular situation weeks after he had asked her to. Not many weeks ago, during their first rehearsals, she remembers how giddy she felt for simply spending time with him. It had been a very long time since she had last seen him because of his tight schedule and now she was able to spend every day with him. The first few rehearsals had been a disaster since none of them could really focus on the dancing since they were so close to each other. During Harry’s solo part, Y/N would take a step back and just admire him. Although the admiration rarely lasted long before she waltzed in front of him, hands outstretched to wrap around his neck and legs lifting from the ground so that Harry could twirl her. More often than not she would take the chance of his shirt rising to kiss on his stomach, otherwise she would lift it herself to gain access to the warm skin underneath. Harry did try to distance himself from her playfulness by using his stern voice that he knew always nudged Y/N into submission, however, it was impossible to resist the girl that held his heart in the palm of her hand and also the stern voice caused a completely different and more dirty reaction than foreseen. Feeling warm at the thought of his then close proximity, Y/N gets up and approaches him, wrapping her arms around his waist and her legs around his thighs so that she is hanging from him.

Harry was surprised by her actions and let out a small yelp while almost loosing his balance, resulting in him taking a couple steps back to regain it. His hands quickly wrapped to the closest body part he could find, and he ended up holding her up by the neck. Harry’s eyes grew in size.

Y/N looked up with a challenging look on her face.

“And you really want me to trust you to lift me in a cartwheel when you can’t even pick me up normally,” she raised her eyebrow, her voice a little muffled from being pressed so tightly to his hard chest.

“That is unfair and you know it–” he replied furrowing his browns. His hands went to her waist picking Y/N up and placing her back on the floor safely, “I have very strong arms.”

Y/N’s attention landed on his biceps that were bulging out of the sleeves of his t-shirt. She hummed in agreement and ran her fingers over the tattoos scattered on his left arm. The skin was soft, but the muscle underneath it was hard now that Harry was flexing them and she enjoyed the way it brought goosebumps to the area. Realising that she got distracted, Y/N dropped her hand and averted her eyes although she still managed to catch the knowing smirk on her boyfriend’s face.

“Shall we continue, love?” Harry asked innocently and walked back to the centre of the room not waiting for a reply, Y/N following his lead.

Harry pressed the button and the music started again. Both of them practiced the steps they had learned following the music. When it was time for him to jump on the sofa, she was filled with worry because every time so far he managed to slip due to his footwear and at the second jump Harry flared his arms with a panicked look on his face and Y/N’s heart plunged to her stomach as she took a step to his aid before Harry sent her a wink to alert her that he was simply playing with her. She scowled and mimicked the routine perfectly but couldn’t stop her gaze from turning to Harry and admiring him.

The hair at the nape of his neck jumped with movement while the rest of the curls were tied up in an old lavender scrunchie. His expression was very focused as he stared intensely on the window opposite of him, pretending that it was a mirror since it was the only thing big enough in their apartment that created a reflection. The setting sun was coming through, lighting the whole room in a soft orange glow as the sun slowly disappeared behind the buildings. When she was dancing facing him, she noticed that the light hit Harry’s eyes just perfectly for them to appear as a very soft shade of green like the depth of a tropical ocean, while at the same time bringing out the gold specks near the centre of his pupil. His lips were a ruby pink, but they were not kept still. Instead, they were mouthing the count of the steps and Y/N smiled endeared.

“I hope you don’t do that in the music video,” she commented.

“What?” he asked as if someone had burst the bubble of concentration he had created.

“You are mouthing numbers.”

Harry frowned but continued dancing. However, he lost a couple steps because he was thinking of a response.

“I’m sure that they can pass for me saying the lyrics. No one will know,” was all he said.

Y/N smiled knowingly.

When it was time for the part of the routine where they were touching, her hand placed on his back, she felt all of the heat radiating off him and how his back muscles tensed when he moved. Y/N didn’t want to take her hands off him but had to follow the choreography. However, when it was time for the cartwheel, even if Harry was expecting her to follow through, she simply stayed in front of him, pinched his rosy cheeks and kissed the tip of his nose, before continuing with the rest of the song.

Harry rolled his eyes and pretended to be annoyed. He smiled smugly at her when he did his small, propelled lift with her and was very happy with how smoothly that try was going. It made him proud that he had finally learned the choreography without stepping on his partner’s feet or getting lost after a twirl. Lastly, with his hand still in Y/N’s, he took the last few steps and with the girl’s arm around his waist, he fell backward and giggled giddily because they finished the routine.

A big smile stretched across his face, even if he was breathing heavily. On the other hand, when Y/N let go of Harry, she fell on the floor panting, fatigue finally taking a toll on her.  That made his smile even wider as he joined her on the marble floor of their living room, the coolness lowering his temperature down. Harry laid on his side, so that he could stare at his girlfriend, who had her eyes closed, face completely still apart from the puffs of air that exited her mouth as her body tried to regulate her heartbeat. His breath fanned across her face, cooling the heated skin of her cheeks and collarbones.

Her arm stretches out, blindly gripping the air, before finding Harry’s thigh, continuing up his stomach and then landing on his forearm, using it as an anchor to pull herself to the side so that she could face him. She placed her head on her hand so that it squished her cheek, making Harry laugh. He in return stuck his tongue out provocatively and raised his hand to her temple, placing a strand that escaped her ponytail behind her ear. Y/N closed her eyes again, the coolness of his rings offering her some relief.

“My thighs hurt and not in the nice way,” she sulked and opened her eyes when she heard Harry laugh, watching as his green eyes twinkled even though darkness was taking over the room.

“Poor thing,” he replied in mock sympathy.

Y/N decided to ignore him and scooted closer to him. His hand on her cheek slowly descended to her neck and she twisted her torso in order to give him better access. Harry’s fingers tapped the side of her throat where her pulse still beat faster than normal, but now Y/N was not so sure anymore that it had anything to do with the dancing. She bit her lip as she felt the heat from his body right next to her, this time welcoming the higher temperature.

Harry brought her face closer to his in a sweet kiss, placing his mouth between her bottom lip and tasting her strawberry balm. A hum was heard from the back of her throat and he knew he had her where he wanted to. To aid his cause he placed his hand on her hip and squeezed once and earning a sharp intake from her before rubbing soothing circles with his thumb.

“How about some relaxing time?” was what he said, but Y/N recognised something else hidden behind his tone.

“What are you suggesting?” she asked in a hushed tone, pupils blown as she looked at the gorgeous man in front of her. She became very aware of how thin the white t-shirt was and how she could actually see through to the ink staining his skin, and more so, she was aware of the look he was giving her.

“What do you say about some time spent between my thighs? I know how much you love it?” Harry’s tone was sultry and nonchalant, his deep voice ripping right through Y/N’s body.

She shivered and it didn’t go unnoticed by him. The pressure on her hip was heavy and the smell of his cologne was even heavier. All that Y/N could manage was a nod.

Like a mask dropping, Harry’s face shone, losing the seducing tone and he smiled wickedly while dropping every contact with the girl.

“Alright then, time to get up and practice some cartwheels,” he got up and clapped his hands.

In the back Y/N dropped her head on the floor and groaned.

[bookstantrash]

A/N: Sup folks! I apologise for my complete lack of schedule for posting but, as I promised @perseusannabeth , here we have Part Three! Delivered on Saturday, the last day of my self imposed deadline lol

Our dear boy Cass is back, so grab some popcorn and enjoy the show!

In which she makes a friend, Part Three

Two months and two weeks.

Cassian had been away from Windhaven for seventy-five days.

Seventy fives days spent going to each of the fifty war camps, overseeing the trainings – specially the female’s — and trying to cease the fire that seemed to be leading to the first Illyrian civil war since the Night Court’s High Lord had taken control of the land.

He was tired. Both physically and mentally. His wings seemed to weight ten times more, and he couldn’t help but think of the female he had left alone in his secluded cabin.

He had not wanted to leave.

He had not had a choice.

He should have written to her.

Should have tried to ask her to go with him.

He remembered Feyre saying in passing how Nesta once wished to go and sail the world. But that was a long time ago. When she had been human. When she had not suffered the horrors of the war.

Cassian was not concerned about her safety. He had wards on his house, wards that made it impossible to anyone deemed dangerous or suspicious to get inside. Specially other males apart from him and his brothers. Although Cassian didn’t think that Nesta would try and take anyone to his house. He had made sure to scare the fuck out of every male in camp once Nesta and him had arrived at Windhaven. They knew to not get close to her.

Nesta going to their houses seemed as much unlikely. She had not left her room since they’d arrived. He doubted she’d do so after he had gone away.

No, Cassian was concerned about her health.

In the first month, Cassian had taken upon himself the task of helping Nesta go through her detoxification. Not that she had wanted his help at all.

It had not been pretty. It was not an easy process. Cassian knew it. That was why he had been so concerned when she’d locked herself in her room and went through the pain all alone.

He had stayed awake, listening to her empty her guts day and night, unable to comfort her. To hold her hair back from her face. He’d leave water and food outside her door, the best he’d offer given the situation.

She usually took all the water. She left most of the food.

In the last week of her detoxification, the worst phase, he stood in front of his closed door all through the week, awake. Just waiting for a sound that would have him throwing the door open and running to her room, her anger at him be dammed.

She didn’t call for him. Or for anyone. She stayed unusually quiet.

Cassian died a thousand deaths during that time. He had been so afraid he had dared to open his door and almost knocked on hers. But he heard her breathing.

She was sleeping so quietly that only Fae ears would have been able to hear her.

That night, he stayed outside her door. And when he heard her wake up on the next day, he quickly went to the kitchen.

Acted as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t prayed all night for her well being, his stomach filled with dread.

He left food for her and went to oversee the morning training.

The males were smart not to provoke him that day.

And so their relationship stayed that way, Cassian trying to give her space. Waiting for her to talk to him. Or scream at him. Even hit him.

She did no such thing. Stayed practically all day in her room. In good days, Cassian would see her sitting in the stone bench outside his house when he came back. Those days were rarer then he liked.

And then he left. For two months.

She did not leave his mind not even for a second of those seventy-five days.

Landing outside his house, Cassian took a deep breath, bracing himself for what awaited him.

He entered the house, silence being his only greeting. He was not surprised. He had left Ironcrest as the sun was raising, eager to return home, and Nesta was not one to wake up early.

Cassian had stayed at Ironcrest for longer than the other camps, given how that prick Kallon was raising distress among the Illyrians.

He hoped Kallon met his demise at the Blood Rite that year.

But something was amiss in his house. Cassian spotted a duffel bag beside the sofa, which had a pillow and a blanket neatly folded on it. And there was a new scent, one which was not Nesta’s. His heart started to beat faster, his mind running the possibilities. Had the wards became weaker somehow? Had someone gotten inside his home? Or was this some arrangement Nesta had made? Was she planning to leave?

Dumping his things in the hall, Cassian practically ran towards her room, and after knocking and receiving no answer whatsoever — not even a low curse — he opened the door to find the room empty. The bed was made, and Nesta’s scent was still there, which calmed him a little bit. But where the Mother was she?

Closing the door, he strained his ears to listen to something, anything that would tell him that she still was in the house. And then he heard it, a voice coming from outside, very faintly.

He went to the kitchen and opened a side door that connected to an outdoor patio behind his house, which he used for training when he wanted to let off some steam instead of sparring with the other Illyrians.

The scene which Cassian was now seeing made him believe he had fallen sleep and was dreaming, for Nesta and an Illyrian kid were outside, doing what appeared to be some sort of training.

There were four tree stumps positioned to form a big square, in which Nesta was standing inside while the young Illyrian stayed airborne.

“FOUR!” the kid shouted, and flew towards what Cassian guessed was the stump marked as number four, Nesta running towards the same stump. She had just come close to it when another number was shouted, both the kid and Nesta moving towards the new spot.

And Cassian realised, after the initial shock of seeing Nesta outside, of seeing her filled with energy, that the young Illyrian was training Nesta. The exercise in question was one of the first the small Illyrians learned once they started training, to both create a sense of direction and balance while flying and having to suddenly change positions, and to start building their stamina.

He could not believe that somehow Nesta had started training, that she was wearing the Illyrian leathers he left for her among her other clothes. He had done it out of hope that she’d warm up to the ideia of training, to help her manage her powers, to help her learn how to defend herself, so she never found herself in a situation similar to the one with Hybern or his twin spies, all that time ago in Velaris’ library.

The leathers were a little big on her, and she still looked like she should eat at least five full banquets, but something had changed in the time he had been away.

Cassian was afraid to move. Was afraid to even breath. He remained frozen, and kept staring and staring at the female in front of him. A female that two months ago was a shell of her previous self, but that now had a little spark of life back in her eyes. A reminder of the untameable fire she once held.

“Anak”

The word — Commander in Illyrian — caught Cassian’s attention, and he came back to reality to find Nesta looking at him, unmoving, whereas the kid was back on the ground, one fist across its chest, wings tucked and head bowed down.

A soldier, greeting the Commander. A soldier, waiting for orders.

“Küroch” Cassian said, and the young boy raised his head, taking a relaxed attitude, with his feet apart and hands behind his back.

“Kaelin, you should go” Nesta’s voice broke the awkward silence that had fallen among them, and Cassian eyed their interaction with interest.

“But—”

“No buts. You have training in an hour right? You may go”

Kaelin’s eyes darted to Cassian, and the boy hesitated a fraction before muttering a quick goodbye and launching to the skies.

Leaving Cassian and Nesta alone.

~•~

“So you’re back”

“Did you miss me sweetheart?” Cassian teased, hoping to ease some of the tension in the air.

Nesta had gone back inside as soon as Kaelin had left, not bothering to give Cassian a single glance. He had obviously followed her inside, and now eyed her from the kitchen door as she gulped down a glass of water.

“Did you feel so alone that you got yourself a roommate?” he said, pushing her, wanting to get some reaction.

But it seemed the wrong thing to say, for Nesta stiffened and became a pillar of ice and steel he had not seen since the war.

“If Kaelin goes, so do I” she said, fire burning in her eyes “Do not blame me for taking him in and not consulting you when I thought you’d left for good. Two months. For two months you didn’t—”

She stopped herself, and Cassian was reminded of another conversation like this.

“You didn’t come to—”

“The next time, Emissary, I’ll come say hello”

Another broken promise. Another failure to add to his ever growing pile of mistakes.

“No one is going anywhere” he quietly added, trying to bury those memories again “But I’d like to know the reason why he’s here”

“He’s an orphan. He’s a thirteen year old kid who has nothing and no one to take care of him. And who’s left to live in some piss poor tent in the mud while the weather is as cold as Death’s kiss.”

“I lived like that too” Cassian said, reminding those cold and harsh days before Rhysand’s mother took him in, before he knew what it felt like to sleep on a bed, to have a warm meal and hot bath.

“Does it make it right then?” Nesta snapped, and the way she seemed to care for Kaelin made him think that maybe he’d judged her wrong.

She had pleaded for both humans and children’s lives back at the High Lord’s reunion. Had passionately demanded for them to stop being selfish and save them.

How could he have ever thought that she’d let Feyre go hunting as a fourteen year old and say nothing? Do nothing but just twiddle her thumbs while her youngest sister risked her life? With each passing day, Cassian found himself being more and more drawn to the interesting persona that was Nesta Archeron.

“No. No it doesn’t” his voice softened, and he decided to try and be a little less of an asshole “He stays. For as long he wants”

Cassian thought he saw Nesta almost sigh in relief and got even more curious about their relationship.

“How—” he cleared his throat, hoping to find a neutral topic “You are training”

“I figured that if I was to stay here for Mother knows how long I’d better find something to kill time with” she snorted “It’s not like there’s a library here”

“I can— I can ask for books to be delivered here” he gave her what he hoped was a teasing smirk instead of a grimace “I’m sorry my small private collection was not enough stimulation”

Cassian was tripping over his words, he knew that. He thought he must sound pathetic, but he had gotten Nesta to talk, and if his two months away had taught him something it was that he was done keeping his distance.

Nesta only shrugged, in thanks or dismissal he didn’t know, and walked past him to leave the kitchen. Probably to take a bath and get rid of those leathers.

“Stay” he grabbed her fingers, softly, just to hold her back.

She turned her face to look at him, their proximity and the meaning of his words making Cassian drop her hand and place some space between them.

“Have breakfast with me” he quickly added “You should always eat after exercise to regain the lost energy, and breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

He waited for a heartbeat. Two.

“I mean, I don’t know about you but I’m starving. I left Ironcrest too early and didn’t eat and—“

Gods, he sounded like a green boy talking with a girl for their first time.

“I’ll keep you company” Nesta cut his blabbering short, and sat in the kitchen chair, the ever picture of the mighty queen she was.

Cassian almost jumped with joy. Almost. Because she said she’d keep him company, not that she’d eat with him. And she needed to, desperately so.

Washing his hands and typing his hair back, he went through his cabinets and gathered lots of different ingredients. Nesta stayed silent while he cooked, and when he placed the food on the table — also giving her a plate — she only raised an eyebrow in question.

“This is Imu Yanisa Kiyauriri” he said, gesturing to the dish in front of her “It’s a traditional Illyrian dish. Kind like the human for porridge, but better.”

He didn’t wait for Nesta to start eating, but secretly eyed her as he ate.

“It tastes better hot” he tentatively said, silently willing her to grab the spoon and eat.

He cheered internally when she did, and swore he heard a silent moan of pleasure when she swallowed it. Imu Yanisa Kiyauriri was a dish know for its high energy potencial, and consisted of milk, water, sugar and mbe'yu, a type of wheat that the Illyrians grew. It was a simple dish to make, and was the first Cassian had ever learned to cook. He had faint memories of his mother feeding him Imu Yanisa Kiyauriri, and had almost begged Rhysand’s mother to teach him how to make it, if only to get closer to his mother one way or another.

Cassian had also cooked eggs, bacon, made some toast and brewed coffee. He left it all on the table, and didn’t force Nesta to take it. He would have to take small steps to help her. He could only offer her the possibilities and pray she would take them.

But as he sipped his coffee — the hot drink warming his tired body — he thought that maybe the new occupant of the house would turn out to be a very precious ally.

•

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[lord-of-no-energy]

How They Cheer Themselves Up When They Feel Unmotivated [Avillon NPCs]

I hope you discover new methods here that help you when you feel down ^^

Rouin

He starts by identifying the source of the problem. Rouin has trouble identifying his emotions, so he takes some time to self-reflect

Sometimes, there’s no source and he’s just having a down day

Rouin has a lot of work, so he can’t really take a break. This isn’t because Lord doesn’t allow him, it’s because Rouin himself doesn’t want to leave his work in the hands of others

What he does ask for is extensions for deadlines, and for someone to be assigned to assist him in work

Once he gets more time, he makes schedules and checklists to utilize it the most. Rouin has an unhealthy schedule, so he puts in time for workouts and sleep.

Organizing his day before it starts is really satisfying for him and already motivates him

He isn’t as fit as the knights; he’s actually really underweight. Working out when underweight is unhealthy, so he eats more than he normally does.

He eats a lot of sweets because sugar contains more energy. Don’t get me wrong, he eats a balance of foods, but when it’s a down day, doughnuts and candy really help.

Working out is his favourite way to relieve stress. He hates sweating, but once he’s done, he’s refreshed and ready to get back to work

His emotional health is like a reflection of his physical health.

He knows that confiding in others is the best way to deal with down days, but he likes putting up a strong, reliable front, even when he’s alone.

But having someone special like Lord who casually motivates him with “Take care of yourself”s and “Do your best”s helps him more than he admits.

Cannae

Cannae’s mood can be seen by how many times she fails when upgrading equipment

She might be playful and purposely fail sometimes for gold, but when it isn’t on purpose, she starts beating herself up for not being good enough

I think that she gets self-conscious really easily, which affects her work, which causes her to beat herself up more, and it’s a full cycle

Her mood affects everyone who is a mile radius from her. Anyone can tell that she feels down, but when she’s confronted about it, she denies it.

She’ll never admit that she feels down so Lord will have to take initiative.

It has to be Lord, Rouin, or Lyn. If it’s someone else, Cannae will become really difficult to handle.

Lord has to give her easier equipment to upgrade and shower her with approval for her to feel a little better

Sometimes, Cannae needs to vent and scream to feel a bit better.

That little bit is what opens her eyes to why she feels down. It’s not because she isn’t good enough, it’s because she needs to self-improve

Setting goals for her improvement is what helps her the most

Of course, she doesn’t like the setting goal process and needs Lord to help

But when she achieves those goals, she feels like she can do anything in the world

Whenever Cannae falls, she might lay low for a moment, but then she jumps up higher than before

The most important thing is having someone who is willing to spend time on helping her feel better. Without them, she would never be able to get back up again.

Aries

Aries and Rouin are the most similar characters in the entire game

They want to look strong to themselves and others and repress their emotions, if they’re able to identify them at all. 

I don’t think that Aries even likes being happy. I don’t mean that in an edgy way or anything. 

You know how happiness makes your heart go faster and your body feel warm and full? Aries finds the feeling icky and disgusting. 

He also hates it because it clouds his mind and that makes him feel vulnerable.

But he definitely doesn’t like being unmotivated, it drives him crazy.

He’s a loner so once he is able to figure out that he isn’t feeling good, he’ll figure out a fix

He doesn’t like someone finding out that he’s feeling down, because he labels negative emotions as vulnerability

What he needs the most is someone to treat him like normal, not go out of their way to make him feel better. If he needs alone time, he’ll request it himself. 

He might even get a bit talkative with someone he’s relaxed around. It serves as great distraction and helps him take the first step to getting back on his feet. I’m looking at you, Lord.

Then he goes out of the way to make others happier. He does it subtly so no one can trace the acts of kindness back to him. Seeing others happy because of him is like medicine to his mental health.

If you find out that he’s discreetly helped you, don’t thank him or tell others. Don’t feel like you owe him or treat him with extra kindness. Just don’t acknowledge it at all. Please. He wants to be sure that he’s helping out of kindness, not for others’ approval.

Aurea

For Aurea, unmotivation isn’t not feeling like doing anything. Unmotivation for Aurea is not getting new ideas for designs.

That drives her nuts. Designing clothes and making others feel good in what they wear makes her happy, so it’s like her brain is hindering her from happiness.

When this happens, Aurea has to force herself to face the fact that she won’t get new ideas by continuously trying and failing.

Instead, she gets out old clothes she’s made and washes them by hand. She doesn’t like doing chores either, but seeing her old works up close reminds her of the time she was making them.

It also shows her how much she has improved from before. 

Normally, doing this ignites a spark in her brain and she’s back at work as if nothing happened.

But if it doesn’t, she looks at other designers’ works for inspiration. 

Her mind normally wanders off thinking of what the designer was inspired by when designing, and that normally points her to the right direction.

Aurea normally looks at works from designers who are better than her.

Sometimes, she invites designers she looks up to for tea and talks with them about whatever. It’s barely sometimes that they touch on the topic of designing clothes.

She’s open with her emotions, so she’s okay with asking them what they do when they feel unmotivated.

It never intimidates her, it’s more of a bonus dose of motivation. It sets new standards for her which she knows that she can reach.

Plus, those designers also started somewhere. If they got where they are now, then so can she. 

Lord

I think it’s pretty much canon that Lord prefers to shoulder stress than share it

They don’t want others to suffer because of the mistakes they made, so they prefer to remain silent and sort out the problem themselves

Even if it isn’t their fault, I think they’d still keep their emotions to themselves so others don’t have to carry the burden with them

Lord just wants everyone to be happy ok

But that vulnerability is exactly what connects the knights in the first place

It reminds them that Lord is just another human being. The only thing that makes them different is their determination to create a fair and happy world.

Not only that, it strengthens their bond with their fellow knights. They swore to protect Lord, and making sure that Lord is happy is just one of their duties. Whenever Lord seems down, the knights are active in communicating with each other to sort out a solution.

For Lord, the advice serves to show them how their knights view them. The advice a person gives is a reflection of their mindset.

Not only that, it also serves as a reflection of Lord. The advice a person gives differs depending on who they are giving it to.

This motivates them to go ask. Not straighforwardly; they ask questions in roundabout ways to get that advice

Like “What do you do when you’re having a bad day?” or “If I’m at a fork in the road, what advice would you give me?”

Yeah they’re terrible at hiding their emotions

It’s the advice they receive that really helps them get back up

All in all, Lord relies on the people around them if they aren’t at the best point in their life. It normally has more than one positive result.

This was just a recollection of extreme story lol

It isn’t wrong to feel depressed and unmotivated. Emotions are okay. What matters is how you deal with them. 

Tysm for reading! Take care of yourself.

[ruewrites]

Building Home

AO3

WBT

Ship: Solomon/Asmodeus

Word Count: 2000

Warnings: None

A/N: I cannot begin to describe how happy I am to kick off Solodeus Week by bringing back WBT once again. I've been hella pumped since I saw college AU. (Do I project a little bit onto this AU? Oh definitely. No question.) But hey! I hope you guys enjoy! Comments are appreciated <3 Stay tuned for more content for Solodeus Week! (I did a combination of the two prompts for day 1)

Asmo plopped on top of one of the larger boxes taking up space in the small living room. This was temporary, just somewhere to stay for the next couple of years. It felt odd moving to such a tiny place after living in the big house he'd been in for years with his brothers. It seemed too quiet to him, even with neighbors just across the hall. He never thought he'd come to miss their noise, yet here he was. How were they doing? Did they miss him? Lucifer said he would always have a place to stay no matter where either of them ended up, but would he really? He wasn’t that far away from them, and yet hours felt like forever. Homesickness krept into his stomach, and just like on the car ride here, tears started to prick at his eyes.

He never imagined he could feel like this.

Excited to start his new life with Solomon, but sad to leave his old one behind.

The remaining rays of sunlight crept through the window and glinted off of his engagement ring. Creating tiny fireflies dancing across the walls of the room. Delicate fingers moved around the band, shifting it back and forth. He'd gotten used to playing with the ring, shifting it back and forth in his fingers and playing with the gemstone in the center.

A huff and a final box dropping to the floor brought Asmo's attention back to the doorway. Solomon brushed his hands off and smiled up at him before joining him. He pecked his lips so sweetly, brushing his thumb along his cheek catching a few of the tiny tears on his way.

"Welcome home."

"It feels more like a box kingdom or a warehouse to me," Asmo murmured, glancing over at the mountains of boxes spread over what would be their living space. This certainly didn't look like home, and Asmo wasn't sure when it would start feeling like it either. Especially since it was temporary in the grand scheme of things.

There was still so much to do.

Returning their rental first thing in the morning.

Unpacking all of their boxes.

Putting everything away.

Introducing themselves to the neighbors. What would their neighbors even think of them? A young couple moving in next door, engaged right out of their undergrad, unsure of what their future holds...

It would be at least a day or two before they got it all done, and the very idea made Asmo ache. There was so much more Asmo wanted to be doing with their time together before Solomon's coursework started up and before his internship really kicked off. They were both going to be so busy soon and the uncertainty that came with not entirely knowing what these new experiences would be like had his stomach churning.

And it was all so much for temporary.

"But it's our box kingdom."

"That doesn't make me feel better Solomon."

Solomon chuckled and kissed him before moving over to look at the boxes, "Well, maybe you'll feel a little better after a full night's rest. Do you remember which box we put our bedding in?"

A full night's rest. That was rich coming from his fiance who couldn't start a healthy sleep schedule to save his life. The only thing that ever made it better was the promise of Asmo being in bed to come cuddle up next to, and even that was debatable when finals week rolled around. The man lived on coffee and shots of espresso. Now that he was in a graduate program, Asmo would be working double time to make sure Solomon balanced school and everything else in his life in a healthy manner.

Asmo hopped off of the box he'd claimed and started to help going through the boxes. He'd had luck finding pans, lights, picture frames, but no bedding. Not even a blanket. Part of him worried they overlooked packing any, but the more rational side of him remembered how picky he'd been about buying a set. There was no way he forgot it. He would never, ever, forget something so essential to his sleep routine. But that would just be his luck wouldn’t it? He wasn’t feeling great and the universe wanted to make him feel even worse. Both he and Solomon stood over the final box, neither one making a move to open it.

"Solomon."

"Mhm?"

"If it's not in here I'm going to cry."

"Yeah-"

"That is a threat, not a promise."

"Oh I'm aware."

Solomon knelt down and started peeling off the tape keeping the moving box sealed. Asmo's heart raced with each passing moment. It had to be in there. It just had to be in there. Finally, the tape snapped back and the box popped open and fluffy pillows sprung forth, propelled by the blankets and comforters beneath.

Oh Asmo could have cried out in relief right there. The move had been stressful enough without the fear that they hadn't gotten everything. He took the soft sheets in his own hands and held them close. He would have a comfortable place to sleep tonight. He wouldn't have to pester his brothers to drop off bedding. His brothers wouldn't be able to make fun of him for forgetting bedding. That was the last thing he needed to add to the stresses of moving in.

But on the other hand, if he had forgotten them, he’d be able to see them.

Solomon tugged on the blanket before nudging up against Asmo’s shoulder. “You know… The living room is a lot closer than the bedroom,” he said, “Do you know what I’m thinking?”

Asmo chuckled and moved away from him, “I’m your fiance not a mind reader dearest.”

Solomon’s kisses were always wonderful no matter where he placed them. Warmth spread from his cheek throughout the rest of him as Solomon’s lips made contact with his skin. He felt some of his anxieties leave him right there. Oh how Asmo adored this man.

“Well,” Solomon’s arms came around him, his lips close to his ear, “I was thinking about when we were kids. How we always had the best sleepovers. We’d sneak snacks from the kitchen, stay up past our bedtime, watch movies we weren’t supposed to-”

He allowed the sentence to trail off, and when Asmo looked at him he saw the hopeful little glint in his eye. Their long history together was special, and their weekly sleepovers were no exception. It didn't matter the weather, who's house or what they planned on doing. As long as they were together, they were guaranteed to have the best of times. Asmo could leave him hanging. He could decide to not finish his train of thought and to pretend he didn’t remember. But he couldn’t be that cruel. So instead he pecked Solomon’s lips.

They were sappy.

But Asmo liked it that way.

“And we made the most amazing pillow forts,” he finished.

“Exactly.”

Asmo spun out from his arms so he could face him properly, “We have work to do and you want to procrastinate to build a fort? For shame my darling. For shame.”

He gave him what he wanted. Now he had to tease his fiance. It wasn't something to question. It was mandatory.

“And you’re saying that you don’t want to have a pillow fort and relive our fun childhood days Mr. Morningstar? Days when we didn’t have to worry about being adults or doing adult things?” Solomon followed after him for getting about the blanket and grabbing at his waist once more, “I don’t think you should be shaming me.”

"Being an adult isn't all that bad, we still get to play house," Asmo let his head rest against Solomon, coaxing him into swaying with him for a moment.

"Playing house never involved rent, or work, or real college classes."

"True," certain parts of adult life did suck, "But we can also do fun things like get married and move in together."

"And make pillow forts?"

Asmo smiled, "And make pillow forts. I suppose."

Even if it was full of boxes, this place was home. Well, that wasn't entirely true now was it? Home wasn't just any place he moved into. Home was wherever Solomon was. This place wouldn't be home if Solomon wasn't here. He was home, and Asmo would follow him anywhere. A house was empty without him and the bed would always be cold. He brought life and color into the rooms he walked in.

Solomon was comfort.

Solomon was belonging.

Solomon was the drive and encouragement that Asmo needed in his life.

"In that case, can we make a pillow fort before my classes start?"

Asmo tilted his head, as if thinking over the possibility. They did always have fun making them, even if they needed help from time to time.

The packed boxes did have one perk after all. They served as the pillars of their little kingdom, standing tall and proud above the couple. Pillows outlined their forms as their limbs were tangled together, blue light from their phones casting light shadows over their faces.

Solomon tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear and Asmo leaned into his touch. "Isn't this fun?" Solomon's voice sent a shiver through him. His voice was warm and smooth, it was something that Asmo would never tire of, not for as long as he lived. "It's just you and me, in our own little kingdom."

Asmo nodded as he let out a soft hum in agreement.

This was comfortable. This was familiar. The soft beat of Solomon's heat lulled Asmo into security. It was gentle, consistent, and Asmo's guidance.

"Asmodeus," Solomon's grip tightened, "I promise, I'll do everything in my power to make this place home."

Asmo's hand moved up to Solomon's cheek and his thumb slowly moved along his milky skin. Solomon loved him. Solomon truly and honestly loved him. No conditions, no second thoughts. That love was all he needed.

He was afraid, he was unsure what the future would bring. He knew that their lives would keep changing and moving along, that they were still going wherever they were taken, but he did have Solomon.

Solomon, his wonderful fiance.

Solomon, his constant morning star.

Solomon, his meaning.

Solomon, his rock.

Solomon, the man who would do anything for him and have his back no matter what.

One day they would live together in a nice house, they'd both be successful, they wouldn't have to worry about what came next. But for now home brought him here, and home was staring back at him with big grey eyes. He was right where he belonged surrounded by boxes and a blanket shielding him from the world.

Perhaps Solomon had known how he’d been feeling, maybe he’d been trying to alleviate some of his hope sickness. Perhaps Solomon was feeling homesick himself. Even if he didn’t know, having Solomon around made him feel better. Yes he still missed his family dearly, but they promised to call and visit him. He would see them again. If anything, Lucifer would make sure they had another family gathering.

But now was his time to spread his wings.

Now was his time to start a branch on their family tree.

Now was his time to start building, expanding.

Even if Solomon didn’t know how he was feeling, Asmo still felt safe and at peace in his arms. Memories of popcorn and movie nights and small fairy lights flooding his senses. A worriless past became his present. Years of playing house were finally becoming a reality. Just like then he could share it all with Solomon. His other half, his completion, everything that made his little world good and beautiful.

He was going to be fine.

He was going to be safe.

He was going to be happy.’’

For the first time, Asmodeus learned a word he thought he already knew.

"Solomon, you are my home."

[authorlmfletcher]

Merry Christmas @csulliven​ ! I’m your secret santa for @mlsecretsanta​ ^_^ Hope you enjoy it!

Also on Ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28383465

                         ----------------------------------------------------------

Snow in Paris. How romantic. 

Adrien sighed as he watched the large snowflakes falling softly from his bedroom windows, secretly wishing that he was sitting on a rooftop somewhere with Ladybug. An image of her rosy red cheeks in the cold air, dark hair covered in white as she laughed made him smile. 

“Ready, Plagg? Time for patrol.” 

His kwami grunted noncommittally, tossing back an extra piece of camembert before Adrien called him into the ring. Chat Noir  pushed himself out the window almost before he was fully changed, black suit melting over his body in a familiar and comforting feeling.

From the rooftops, he watched children dancing in the streets with arms outstretched to greet the snow. Strings of lights draped over trees and over buildings, creating a warm and magical glow to the night sky. A few windows showcased trees twinkling with lights. It was perfectly wonderful, and all Chat could feel was empty. 

Christmas always hit him the hardest, the memories of his mother’s smile, joy, and laughter at this time of year flooding his thoughts everywhere he looked. He missed her so much. While usually he could keep the swirl of emotions under control, the holidays pulled them so close to the surface that nothing he tried could tamper them down. At least this year he wouldn’t let himself fall into the same angst-fuelled stomp around Paris from the year before.

Reaching their meeting point, Chat Noir flopped onto the rooftop, sitting with his legs dangling over the edge. He couldn’t help the curl in his back nor the soft frown on his face as he watched a young family walking down the street, each parent holding one hand of their child in the middle, swinging him high into the air as he screeched with joy. 

He missed those days. 

------------------------

Snow in Paris. Crap. 

Marinette’s feet slipped out from underneath her as she stepped out onto her balcony, a soft squeak escaping her lips as she frantically waved her arms to regain her balance. Tikki chuckled softly behind her. Marinette shot her kwami an unamused look. 

“You’ll be fine. Go - Chat will be waiting.” 

A quick set of words transformed Marinette in a brilliant flash of pink, a spotted suit appearing on her skin before she launched herself off her railing to yo-yo over the rooftops to their designated meeting spot. 

Trying not to slip as she landed on their rooftop, she noted the unusually despondent position of Chat’s body. 

“Hey Chat,” she called out. He turned and gave her a muted smile. 

“Hey.” 

That wasn’t her usual exuberant kitty. Deciding that patrol could wait, she plopped herself down beside her partner and gave him a good long stare, trying to telepathically discover what exactly was making him so sad. No answers came to her. 

“What’s wrong, kitty?” 

His hesitation to answer gave away a lot. Civilian issues, she realized. Something that mattered enough that he actually let it bother him when he was in his super suit. That worried her a little. 

“I - “ he shifted his eyes to peek at her, “I’m just finding the Christmas season hard. It’s all bright, and cheerful, and beautiful, but - it’s not like that for me.” 

Ladybug blinked, trying to process. Christmas always made her happy. The colours of the lights. The smells of fresh baked cookies. The snuggles on the couch watching a movie together with her parents. The excitement of homemade gifts. This was her favourite season! But, Chat - obviously it wasn’t the same. 

“Oh,” was all she could think of to say, her brain already slipping into planning mode. Something had to be done. No one should be unhappy at the happiest season of the year! She looked around the view of Paris, pieces of an idea popping into place in a typically Marinette/Ladybug fashion. 

“I have an idea.” 

Chat looked at her startled when she got to her feet. 

“An idea for what?” 

“An idea for you. Come on. Follow me.” And then she was swinging across Paris.  It took longer than she expected to arrive at her destination - a large building built like a square. Landing on the rooftop, she turned to find Chat close behind, a confused look on his face. 

“What are we doing here?” he asked. 

“Look,” she replied. A simple gesture brought his attention to the ice track laid out on the top of the building in a long path. “Transform to ice.” 

He gave her a startled look, shocked as she gulped down one of her power up macrons. Fumbling through his pockets, he followed her lead. 

“What are we doing?” he asked again. She just laughed, grabbing his hand and dragging him onto the ice. 

“Come on. I think you just need some fun.” 

She had to admit that the sheer look of surprise on his face was worth it. It took a few laps around the icy path before his usual boyish grin took over and he started to show off with spins and acrobatic displays. It felt like hours later when they both collapsed onto a bench with tired legs and hearts full of laughter. Ladybug felt thankful that her little plan had worked. She never wanted to see that hollow look on his face ever again. 

“Thank you, Ladybug,” he said softly, dropping his ice transformation with a sigh. “I needed that. Christmas season is just …  hard for me. It makes me think of someone I miss a lot.” Throwing his head back, he stared at the sky a moment before grabbing her hand for his trademarked knuckle kiss. 

“Anyway, thank you for the special evening. I should probably get going - I have a crazy day tomorrow and need to get some sleep.” 

Still on the bench, she watched him vault away. Detransforming, she sat there for longer with Tikki as the little kwami chomped away at a cookie. 

“Oh, Tikki. I wish I knew more about Chat Noir. Who could he miss so much that he gets that sad over the holidays?” 

Tikki simply chewed, not answering. Marinette sighed. “I know. I just wish I could do something to make Christmas special and happy for him instead.” 

It took all of 5 minutes for a massive, crazy, totally insane idea to come together. Changing back to Ladybug, she swung home, brain whirling with plans, knowing there was little chance of sleep for her creative self yet again. 

-----

Hands fussed with his hair. Others pulled at his clothes. Voices barked out orders as people raced around, moving props and backgrounds. The chaos of a photoshoot never got easier. The sooner he could get through these “fake happiness” last minute winter shoots, mostly for social media, the better. The head photographer shouted him in place - telling me which way to stand or sit, what to hold, how to pose, what face to wear. His body and expressions moved on auto-pilot. His thoughts wandered to the memories of the skating he’d done with Ladybug the night before. She understood him in a way that no one else likely ever would - able to read his REAL body expressions. 

“Adrien Agreste, get your head out of the clouds and down here onto the fake snow,” someone snapped, pulling his full attention back to the business at hand. 

The day promised to be one of chaos. Early photoshoot, obligatory fitness workout, rehearsal for a big presentation at an upcoming Christmas charity event, guest appearance on behalf of his father at two different events, another short photoshoot (outdoors - which sounded uncomfortable), followed by an evening at the 2nd or 3rd Christmas gala of the season. Hopefully there would be time to eat somewhere in there. 

Rushing from thing to thing on his schedule, Adrien mused over the busyness. Why did Christmas obligate people to fill their lives with meaningless activities and fake smiles? He would give anything to just sit together with his family and enjoy each other’s company in quietude. 

By the time he arrived home from the gala, dressed to the nines in one of his father’s top-line suits, that hollow feeling had returned. The oversized tree sparkling with lights and silver ornaments screamed how fake this holiday season felt - meaningless, impersonal, and just there because of obligation. 

He was too tired to do much else, stripping down to slip into some comfortable pajamas and tossing an extra chunk of cheese at his kwami. Briefly, he transformed, mostly to check if there were any messages on his baton. 

One unread message. 

“Hey Chat, I have this idea. Can we get together tomorrow? Say…. 10pm? The tower?” 

He typed back a quick message in agreement, mentally sifting through the day’s schedule, then flopped himself onto his bed with muttered words to transform back into his civilian clothes. 

At 9:45pm, Chat Noir burst out of Adrien’s bedroom window and raced over the rooftops. The snow from two days earlier had vanished, leaving things with a slightly damp look. Crisp winter air singed his cheeks, but it felt refreshing after yet another busy day. 

Ladybug stood waiting at their usual Eiffel Tower hangout, a large bag slung over her back. 

“So, what’s up, LB?” he asked, wondering what exactly she hid in a bag that size. 

“Follow me,” she said, jumping away. Whatever hid in the bag rattled as she took off. He hurried to keep up with her as she yo-yoed across the city, landing finally in a small park. She slipped the bag from her back, the rattling (and possible jingle?) sounding out. She unzipped it with deliberate slowness, giving him a grin. 

Inside sat decorations. 

“What are we -” he cut himself off as she laughed, pulling one of the silver spheres from her trove. 

“We’re going to decorate this tree. Together. It’s an important Christmas tradition!” 

Suddenly, he realized that he hadn’t even noticed the large evergreen tree in front of them. He must have frozen long enough with his mouth open in surprise that Ladybug had managed to hang 4 or 5 ornaments before asking if he was going to help. Springing into action, he carefully grabbed a ball and placed it onto the tree. A few ornaments later, he found himself wonderously tangled by tinsel with Ladybug laughing hysterically. He could feel his cat ears drooping as he asked for some help getting loose. 

When the bag was emptied, they stood side by side admiring their work. 

“Perfect.” He had to admit, she was right. They had done a terrific job. And it meant so much more to put together a tree with someone he cared about. Better than the team of professional decorators that Nathalie had hired this year. 

“Tomorrow? Same time? Eiffel Tower?” 

He had no idea what she planned to do, but he nodded, unable to stop the smile that crept onto his face. 

-------------

Everything was ready. Flour. Ginger. Molasses. Sugar. Marinette looked around the bakery kitchen with the feeling that she’d forgotten *something* but time to meet Chat crept closer. Maman and Papa had been more than generous when she had asked to use the kitchen for a  couple of nights. 

“As long as you don’t touch any of the morning’s baking,” her mother had answered, not needing any other explanation. 

“Time to go!” chirped Tikki, wide blue eyes twinkling. “I think he’s going to love this one.” 

“I know he will.” Taking one last glance at everything laid out, Marinette transformed and raced to find her partner waiting with anticipation at the tower. 

“Follow me.” 

She led him back to the bakery with an elaborate explanation of how the owners had graciously let her use their kitchen. From there, Ladybug spent the night helping Chat discover the joys of making a gingerbread house from scratch. Much laughter ensued as flour ended up on faces, ginger sent Chat into sneeze fits, and Ladybug discovered her partner’s lack of skills in a kitchen. By the end of their adventure that stretched early into the morning hours, they had a pair of iced together houses, one more askew than the other. 

“Go sleep now, Kitty. We’ll decorate them tomorrow night.” The excited twinkle in his eyes before he escaped made her smile when she finally crashed onto her bed for a few hours of sleep. 

The next night consisted of a sugar-fuelled cat boy, happily slapping candies and decorations to his somewhat lopsided gingerbread house. The next, she set up a laptop with a Christmas video on a nearby rooftop with some thick blankets and a thermos of peppermint tea. An afternoon visit to a local library ended up with them sitting in the middle of the children’s section with kids climbing all over them as the librarian read The Grinch and other kids acted it out. 

A midnight excursion wandering through Paris, taking in all the amazing light displays led to another spent window shopping well after most Parisians were sleeping. He hadn’t ever really just looked at window displays for their artistic value before. 

The following night, all plans were thwarted by the Giftster - an akuma who wrapped everyone up in paper and  bows out of spite over a poorly wrapped gift. It took longer than she hoped to defeat the villain,leaving her a little sad that her plan for the night was ruined - the hot chocolate bar she’d put together cold and the whipped cream melted to liquid by the time they arrived. 

“It’s still purr-fect, Ladybug. I don’t mind at all. It’s the people we’re with that make the holidays special, not the temperature of the drink.” He poured himself a large mug of cocoa and piled the top full of marshmallows, syrup, and sprinkles.”Delicious.” 

---

Adrien’s view of Christmas shifted. The anticipation of Ladybug’s holiday shenanigans brought him more excitement than he had felt for the holidays in a long while. Nothing would ever replace the hole left by his mother’s disappearance, but at least this made him feel hopeful again instead of melancholy. With less than a week left to Christmas, he sat in his class for the last day before the two week break. Marinette lay flopped on her desk, possibly asleep, as Nino and Alya argued the merits of their gift wish lists. 

“What about you, Agreste?” Alya snapped, poking Marinette awake with her elbow. “What are you doing this Christmas? Any big plans?” 

He shrugged. “Not really.” 

“No running off and sending your dad into Christmas Godzilla mode this year, ok?” Nino quipped. Adrien felt himself flush. 

“I won’t,” he murmured. “Listen - last year was hard. The first Christmas without my mom, ok? She loved Christmas and it just feels … I don’t know. Christmas season is just …  hard for me. I miss her so much.” 

Realizing that he was killing their fun conversation, he decided to turn himself around.  “But don’t worry! No running off this year. I promise. I’ve actually had a friend from work making sure that Christmas is awesome. We’ve gone ice skating, watched a really fun holiday movie, and we even made these gingerbread houses - from scratch! Even Mother didn’t do that!”  

He told them all about the adventures that he’d been having and how special they’d made the holidays become, carefully avoiding any mention of their superhero selves. The more he rambled on about the activities he had been doing late in the nights with Ladybug, the more Marinette’s eyes grew wide. He stopped talking when she let out a strangled sound. 

“Are you ok, Marinette?” 

She sat frozen, statue-like for a long moment, staring blankly at him. Suddenly she jumped with a yelp, clutching at her side. 

“Oh, yep. Yep. Totally good. I’m totally fine. Everything’s fine.” She let out a wild and panicky laugh, blinking rapidly. “I’m good. Are you good? Everyone’s good, right? Ok. I’m just - I’m just - Ms. Bustier? May I be excused to use the bathroom?” 

And then she bolted, racing out of the classroom in a gangly, flailing pile of limbs. The whole classroom paused in their conversations for a quiet moment as they stared at the door, then with a universal shrug, returned to what they were doing. 

“That was weird,” muttered Alya, frowning. “Even for Marinette.” 

-----------

“Just breathe, Marinette. Breathe. In. Out. Innnnnnnn. Ouuuuuuuuuuut. Innnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn. Out.” 

From the bathroom stall she hid in, Marinette could hear and see her kwami giving anti-panic attack advice, a blurry red dot floating in front of her face, but she couldn’t process the words being said. Adrien Agreste. Chat Noir. Adrien Agreste? Chat Noir. Nope. It just had to be a coincidence that Adrien’s “friend from work” had taken him on all the same adventures that Ladybug had put together for Chat Noir. Totally a coincidence that Chat missed someone special while Adrien missed his mother. Just coincidence. 

Oh crap. 

Chat Noir was Adrien Agreste. ADRIEN AGRESTE WAS CHAT NOIR. 

She threw up in the toilet. 

-------------

Chat couldn’t quite put his finger on what was different that night as they listened from the rooftops to a group of carollers in one of the parks. Ladybug sat a little farther away than she usually did. She didn’t roll her eyes at his jokes or speak much at all. In fact, she didn’t even look him in the eyes. 

“Everything ok?” he asked finally, unable to stand the awkwardness any longer. Her head snapped at that, eyes connecting with his for the first time in the night. 

“Oh. Yes, sorry. I just found out something about a friend today and it’s been hard to work through, that’s all.” She smiled, but it wasn’t a real smile - her eyes skittering away from him. He frowned. 

“Want to talk about it? In generalized terms, I mean.”

She shook her head. 

“No. I’d rather just listen to the music, ok?” 

“Ok.”

The next evening, with only 2 days left to go before the big holiday arrived, Chat found himself at a local food bank, handing out meals to families whose faces shone with so much gratitude that it made him feel embarrassed to live as he did. Ladybug still seemed preoccupied. He smiled at her every time she tried to stealthily look at him, wondering exactly what was going on behind those brilliant blue eyes. 

At the end of their volunteer time, they escaped to the rooftops. 

“Are we doing anything special tomorrow?” he asked, wondering if the magical sense of Christmas had worn off for her. “It IS Christmas Eve after all.” 

She gave him a look he couldn’t quite define. 

“Are you ok, LB? You’ve been really … off for the last day or so.” 

He watched as she opened and closed her mouth like a fish for a moment before snapping it shut. She visibly straightened her back. 

“It’s nothing big, I promise, but yes - let’s meet at the tower tomorrow?” When he nodded, she flashed him an almost real smile before swinging off into the distance. 

Plagg had no ideas, simply focusing on his cheese and musing over whether Adrien had any stocking fillers planned. The kwami tapped suggestively at the pictures in his Gentleman’s Camembert magazine. 

Adrien gave up, hoping that whatever bothered Ladybug would be resolved by the time they got together tomorrow. 

---------------

Christmas Eve dawned bright and crisp, the cold smell of winter on the air. Marinette did not want to get out of the coziness that her oversized comforter provided. If it hadn’t been for the wail of her akuma alert alarm forcing her to drag herself out of bed, she might not have for the whole day. 

The realization that Adrien Agreste - face of perfection and heart of gold - and Chat Noir - jokester and  impulsive rogue were the same person had left her rattled. Marinette had needed a few days to process it all, but she was slowly coming to terms with how much it meant to her to discover the boy she deeply cared for was also her best friend. 

She swung across the city to find a Grinch-like akuma, green from head to toe with a red hat and coat. With a single touch, the lights and decorations found on the streets of Paris simply vanished. Anyone found in his path transformed into lumps of coal. 

“I think he has the wrong city. This isn’t Whoville.” Chat voice chirped happily - sickeningly so, given the early hour of the morning. “Good morning, milady.” 

“Morning, kitty.” With a yawn, she searched the akuma for clues where to find their target. “I’m guessing it’s the Santa hat. But we have to keep out of range of his hands. Turning to coal sounds like a terrible way to spend Christmas.” 

With a nod, he stood up and extended his baton with a grin. “40 feet.” Then he launched himself off the rooftops to place himself securely in the path of the opponent. 

“Hey, is that your resting Grinch face?” he taunted, starting his usual distraction methods. She watched for the briefest of moments as the akuma threw itself at her partner with a growl. If she could just sneak in behind while it was distracted, she could probably pull the hat from his head. 

Things never are that easy when fighting akumas. Realizing that a second superhero attempted to stealth attack him, the Grinch whirled around, knocking her to the ground mid-pendulum arch. She hit the ground with a roll, dodging away from the outstretched hand. Chat responded with a careful leap, vaulting himself towards the villain and narrowly missing the hat. Acrobatic flips moved him back out of the way of danger. 

A few cheesy puns about the Grinch and being green later, Chat still somehow managed to keep most of the attention on himself while Ladybug attempted another grab for the hat. Failing, the Grinch growled, grabbing onto Chat’s baton and flinging the cat boy into the air. Ladybug watched in horror as her partner landed right in the akuma’s grip, wide-eyed and legs kicking.

Mere seconds felt like hours, a black heaviness overcoming Chat from his toes to his face. She screamed his name, panic clawing at her heart. No. No! Her yo-yo whirred with renewed vigour, calling her Lucky Charm. Into her hands dropped a carefully wrapped, red-polka dotted present with a tag reading “For the Grinch.” 

A plan clicked into place. 

“Oh, Mr. Grinch. I have something for you.” The akuma dropped the lifeless stone figure of Chat Noir to the pavement with a loud thud, turning its attention instead to her. She thrust the present at him with a smile, which made him stop and cock his head sideways with a frown. If she hadn’t been so focused on where the hands of her opponent were in that moment, she would have started singing. After all, music won the day in the story of the Grinch - hadn’t it? 

“Merry Christmas.” 

Cautiously, the akuma accepted the gift, settling down on the pavement beside Chat’s coal statue to rip open the paper and see what his gift was. The moment the lid popped free, a brilliant flash of light went off, blinding the akuma long enough for Ladybug to grab the hat and tear it apart. Away fluttered the butterfly, captured a moment later in her yo-yo with a snap. Bubbles enveloped the akumatized victim. In its place sat a confused man. 

Grabbing the remaining pieces of the gift box, Ladybug threw it up into the air with a shout, releasing the Miraculous butterflies. They swirled around everything. Lights and decorations reappeared. People changed back from coal to themselves. She watched with relief as Chat emerged from his own coal statue, throwing her arms around his neck. 

“Whoa!” he yelped, arms wrapping around her to prevent himself from falling backwards onto the pavement. 

“Stupid cat,” she murmured, prying herself free to pay attention to the man on the ground nearby. Helping him to his feet, she found herself giving Chat the chance to interact with the victim - watching in silence as her partner graciously reassured the man that everything was okay now and Christmas hadn’t been ruined. 

With a wave, they escaped to the rooftops. 

“So,” drawled Chat, giving her the most curious of looks. “I have a question for you. Why did you shout ‘Adrien’ when I turned to coal?” 

Certain that her heart stopped, Ladybug froze. She hadn’t. Had she? She blinked at him, wondering exactly what to say, brain scrambling for words. 

“Why would I call you Adrien? That’s just silly. You aren’t Adrien - you’re Chat Noir. Completely different people. You must have heard wrong. I’m sure I shouted for you, silly cat. Chat Noir. Not Adrien.” Realizing that she rambled stupidly, she snapped her mouth shut and waited. 

He narrowed his eyes at her, the gaze heavy and searching before he laughed. “Of course. I must have been mistaken. See you tonight then, LB?” 

She nodded and he saluted before running off. Breathing a sigh of relief, she headed home, hoping to get a little more sleep before the busy part of the day before Christmas required her attention. 

-------

“She knows, Plagg. I don’t know how, but she knows who I am.” Adrien lay flat on his bed, arms thrown wide, eyes staring at the ceiling. “Is that why she’s been acting strange lately? Maybe she figured out who I am and doesn’t like that it’s me!” 

A million ideas and thoughts raced through his mind, distracting him through the day’s schedules. Appearances here, appearances there. Fake smiles and poses for media cameras. No family time like all his friends. His Instagram feed showcased Nino and his brother working on making cookies, Alya’s family sitting around in their PJs playing board games, Marinette hard at work in the bakery with her parents. Sitting in the back of the car that drove him everywhere, Adrien felt that emptiness that always seeped in around Christmas. Alone, isolated, and now - Ladybug knew who he was to the point of not being able to look him in the eye. Christmas sucked. 

When their designated meetup time approached, he dutifully transformed into Chat Noir, stuffing the gift he’d put chosen for her into one of his pockets. Hopefully she would at least like that. 

Ladybug stood on their favourite platform of the Eiffel Tower, pacing back and forth with wild arm gestures. She must have really been deep in thought since she didn’t even hear him land on the metal railing. 

“Merry Christmas!” he called out, making her jump in surprise, hand clutched to her heart and blue eyes popped open wide in a strangely familiar and out-of-place motion. 

“Oh, Chat. You scared me.” He chuckled. “Merry Christmas.” 

“So, what’s on the plans for tonight’s Christmas adventure?” he asked. “Anything exciting?” 

She blinked twice, staring at him for longer than should feel comfortable. 

“Oh. Right. I thought I’d give you a special gift. It’s a tradition that my family has to open one gift each on Christmas Eve, so I thought it would be fun to do that with you.” 

It would be fun, he thought. As long as she still liked him. 

“Can I go first?” he asked, pulling the small package from his pocket and thrusting it at her. “It’s not much, but it seemed to scream like the gift you needed.” 

Inside held two small pins. The first - a tiny ladybug with closed wings, the other - a small white circle with a set of black cat ears and green eyes peeking up from the bottom. She laughed, telling him that his gift was wonderful and that she’d find the perfect place for them. 

She took a deep breath before she passed him a gift bag. 

“For you.” 

Carefully, he pulled out the tissue paper and unwrapped something soft. Into his hand fell a palm-sized hand-stitched doll of himself - Chat Noir. Digging into the bag more, he found a matching Ladybug. Something nagged in the back of his mind that he’d seen dolls like these before - back when Manon had been akumatized. Marinette had made dolls that Manon wanted to play with. He flipped them over to admire the neat stitching work and attention to detail.

“These are adorable. Thank you so much. Did you get these from Marinette Dupain-Cheng? I think she had some similar to these.” 

She made a funny sound before answering. “Kind of? I made them for you.” 

She had made them? He frowned in confusion. 

Ladybug stepped forward, pulling the dolls gently out of his hands and putting them back in the bag before putting it on the ground. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and moved so that she was achingly close. 

“Tikki. Spots off.” 

He didn’t have time to close his eyes, other than to wince slightly at the bright and unexpected flash of pink light as Ladybug’s transformation dropped. In her place stood Marinette herself, a heavy black cat-ear hoodie pulled up over her head. An homage to himself, he realized. Two heartbeats later, she raised herself up on her tiptoes, hands clutching at his arms, warm lips pressing against his. 

She stepped back before he could even react, whispering “Merry Christmas, my kitty - Adrien Agreste.” 

He stared into her bluebell eyes, the pieces of the puzzle in his life clicking together in the most wonderful of ways. She did know. And she kissed him. Marinette Dupain-Cheng had turned a season full of disappointment and missing his mother into something full of memories and wonder. She had turned it into the best Christmas he had ever had. 

“Thank you, milady Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Merry Christmas to you, too.” 

As he dared to pull her close and kiss her for real, he realized that snowflakes were falling gently on Paris. How romantic.

[alpacaparkaseok]

Where you should be

Chapter 1: Prevaricate

Genre: Hobi x oc 

Warnings: this series contains stalking, blackmail, and similar stressful/fear inducing situations. Also unrequited love, which is perhaps the most terrifying of all.

Word Count: 5.6k

Prevaricate (v.) : to speak or act in an evasive way

Present Time  

There’s a reason why I’ve been working under a pseudonym for the entirety of my career at Bighit and never show up in photos that are going to be sent out on social media. There’s a reason why the very people I work for have hardly seen me.

After Bang Si-hyuk met me as a junior producer at another agency and saw that I was hardly working enough hours a week to survive, he gave me a one-time opportunity to prove myself. I would work at my agency in the mornings and then head out to the Bighit building in the evenings to meet up with Pdogg and Slow Rabbit who were more than happy to give me a shot behind the producer’s chair.

In the end, Adora was my biggest advocate. I heard her the day I was waiting for the verdict, speaking firmly with Bang PD in his office.

“If you let her go you’ll be screwing yourself over. I’ve seen her work, she’s a machine. I haven’t seen anyone like her. She’d be an asset to this team and we both know that we need that right now.”

It was the beginning of 2018 when Bang PD marched into Pdogg’s studio where I was working with him and told me the plan.

My contract at the other agency still had six years left on it, there was no way out of it. That had been Bang PD’s main concern, but when he looked at his star studded BTS and saw just how badly they needed a fresh perspective, he decided to go all in. So what did he do?

He bought out my old agency.

Naturally.

Source entertainment, the previous house of GFRIEND, still had their logo and a hand in their decisions. However with Bang Si-hyuk their new CEO they really didn’t have much of a say in my promotion.

Two and a half years later, life is pretty good. Well, besides the fact that I’m still living under a rock.

Let me explain: Source entertainment gladly sold their company to Bighit entertainment...under one condition. They didn’t want anyone to know why they were bought out in the first place. Not being able to keep a hold of a young female producer sounded pretty pitiful to them.

It just so happened that my name was starting to circulate around the different agencies around the time Bang PD took me in, and a few were out shopping for a new producer. Once word got out that I was the one behind “Navillera” things started to go downhill.

Sometimes I really feel like I can empathize with Rapunzel, locked up in her tower. At least my tower has a sweet stereo system. Equipped with a pseudonym and surrounded by speculation, I live an interesting life.

You see, nobody actually knows that I bailed Source for Bighit, although many suspect as much. When ‘trackers’ from other agencies began to snoop around for my whereabouts, Bang PD gave me a choice.

Either work so far behind the scenes that I would never see any action but would stay safe from prying eyes, or adopt a pseudonym and be alert for people showing up at my door offering me a higher salary.

There are a lot of things I wish I’d known before I began my career. However, there is one thing in particular I would have liked to known before jumping over to Bighit: cameras have never been able to capture Jung Hoseok in his full glory, and I doubt they ever will.

Mid July, 2018

“Have you eaten?”

Hoseok’s voice is muffled through my headphones, but I quickly slip them off my head and turn to see him standing in the doorway.

“Me?” As soon as I ask the question I know that it isn’t the most intelligent. The room is empty except for me.

Hoseok doesn’t tease me too much, instead stepping into my small studio that I share with a couple of other producers. “Yes, you.” Producing a giant bag of takeout, he lofts it up in the air. “You’ve been here all day and I’m pretty sure you haven’t left this room once.”

I’ve begun seeing Hoseok more frequently around the company building, he’s taken up the habit of stopping into Slow Rabbit’s studio more often during the day. We’ll make some small talk, talk about work and upcoming plans. But this? Just showing up at my small studio with food? That’s definitely never happened before. We’re not even on a first name basis.

I didn’t even know he knew where my studio was. If we’re ever in the same room together it’s either in a big staff meeting with all the producers or in Slow Rabbit’s studio.

Taking a long look between the food and my workload, I sigh and push some of my stuff away, creating a space for the food. Hoseok hollers and grabs a chair for himself, wasting no time in plopping down beside me and pulling out the cartons.

I must be staring at him like he has three heads, because he’s freezing in his tracks when he catches my eye.

“What?” He asks innocently.

I laugh lightly, hoping that he doesn't misinterpret what I say next. “I just wasn't expecting to see you, much less with food.”

“Oh,” he hesitantly passes me a carton. “Yeah, kind of weird, I know. I just thought you might like something to eat. I know how grueling work can be when you’re just starting out, and you’ve got a lot of competition here. No matter how hard it all gets you can’t forget to eat and sleep, alright?”

I nod slowly, watching as he looks utterly unfazed and begins slurping up his food. That’s when I realize that we’ll be eating together.

It’s oddly quiet in the studio that’s usually filled to the brim with music, but it’s nice. “How did you even know that I’d be in here?”

Hoseok shrugs, glancing my way. “Slow Rabbit said that you haven’t showed up for your usual lunch with him all week; I figured today would be the same.”

He talked to Dohyeong about me? Somehow that thought leaves me feeling a little off-balance.

“Thank you.”

Giving me his award winning smile, Hoseok nods. “Hobi. Just call me Hobi.”

Busying myself with my food, I nod. “Thank you, Hobi.”

“You’re welcome...” He looks at me expectantly and I realize that he’s not interested in calling me by my stage name, Sunny.

“Oh. Ha-rin.”

He nods, satisfied for the moment. Diving into his food again, he clears his throat. “Mind if I come back tomorrow?”

January 2019

Lunch with Hobi becomes the new normal. Whenever he has a free spot in his schedule he just shows up at the studio. Sometimes we have lunch around 12, other days it’s more like 8. Either way, he always sends me a text asking me if he can eat lunch in the studio, and chances are I’m still hanging around. He gives me a tentative time, and I always find a way to say yes.

I don’t think I’ve paid for lunch for six months straight. To be honest, it’s really nice. On the other hand, I feel a little guilty. Whenever I bring it up, Hobi just waves me off.

Nearly on the verge of tearing my hair out as I struggle with the title track of TXT’s debut  album, Hobi sends me a text telling me that he’s on his way over with the goods. It doesn’t take him long to show up, plopping down beside me and placing the food in front of me before I can even take my headphones off.

“I’ll order next time?” I ask tentatively. We’ve had this conversation several times already, but I can’t quite seem to win.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hobi says as he continues on in his meal. I glare at him.

“Well, I do worry about it. You don’t need to keep doing this, Hobi.”

Now he sets down his food and turns to look at me. He’s wearing a white t-shirt today, and his hair has been recently dyed with honey-brown highlights. When I first saw him in the doorway of the studio with his usual bag of food, I had to remind myself to breathe.

He looks good.

“Yes I do.” He said it so matter-of-factly that I nearly agreed with him before stopping.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, a little annoyed. “I’m not some pity case that you have to foster until I make a name for myself, you know.”

As soon as I say it I gasp, covering my mouth with my hand. Hobi blinks before starting to laugh, applauding my bravado.

“Wow!” He says through his laughter. “You think that’s why I’m here?”

I just shrug, too mortified to say anything else. Heaven knows I’m too high-strung at the moment to be trusted to say anything else.

“I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but you’re not a pity case. Do you feel like you’re a pity case?” Hobi turns what should have offended him into a shovel to dig around my brain a bit.

Shaking my head, I sneak a peek over at him. He’s sitting with his legs and arms crossed, looking at me intently.

“...no.”

I don’t sound that convincing, that much is clear on Hoseok’s face. Leaning forward in his chair, he looks like he’s thinking over something important but remains silent for a moment. I take the temporary silence to eat a bit more of my food, only then noticing that it’s ramyeon.

The thought of Hoseok taking some of the packets of ramyeon from the break room and sneaking down here with them makes me want to laugh and cry.

“Pdogg said you’re working on TXT’s title track. It’s your first big project here; how are you feeling?”

The question takes me off guard, and I slurp up the rest of my noodles before I respond. “Alright, I guess. It’s been a while since I had to start on a track from square one.”

A look of understanding dawn on Hoseok’s face. “That’s stressful. But that also says a lot that you’re trusted with so much.”

Shrugging, I drink the last bit of the broth before tossing my cup in the trash. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think Bang PD is trying to kill me.”

“Really?” J-hope frowns before also finishing off his ramyeon. “I could help you, if you want.”

I shake my head firmly, watching as he laughs as though he’d expected as much. “No, I need to do this on my own. I think I’m nearly there, anyways.”

“So that’s why you never leave the studio these days,” he muses.

“Exactly.”

Normally Hoseok is pretty quick in his visits; we eat and he leaves as soon as he’s finished. I’m honestly surprised that he has enough time to eat with me nearly every day. Today though, he lingers. I can tell that he’s chewing on a thought, and I turn to him, raising my eyebrows.

“Are you about to tell me I can get us food next time?”

He blinks at me, laughing. “No, not that. I know you won’t let me help you with producing; that’s fine. But will you at least let me listen to the track when you feel like it’s good enough?”

Hoseok and I are at a strange crossroads in our acquaintanceship. Are we friends yet? From the consistency of his lunches and willingness to help me, I believe we are. But then again, this feels completely unbalanced for a friendship. After all, isn’t he the one putting in all the work?

“That sounds like work, though.” I fold my arms in front of me. “You already work all the time.”

“You won’t even let me listen to it?”

Looking at him, I see how sincere he is in his intentions. Maybe that’s what makes me loosen up a bit, letting go of my insecurities just enough to let him in.

“You promise to tell me if it sucks?”

He giggles, the sound of his little laugh making me smile. “Oh, absolutely.”

Giving him a curt nod, I grab my headphones, ready to get back to work. “Ok.”

He hesitates. “Ok? That’s it?”

My chair swivels to face him, one side of my headphones off my ear so I can hear him. “That’s it. I’m kicking you out now so I can come up with a track decent enough for J-hope to listen to.”

Cackling at my behavior, he holds his hands up in surrender and makes his way out of the studio. “See you tomorrow, Rin-ah.”

I don’t hear him, my headphones firmly planted on my head. Chuckling to himself, Hoseok closes the door on his way out.

Two weeks later

“I think that one’s my favorite,” Hoseok says as he slips the headphones off. I raise my eyebrows.

“Really?”

He nods, smiling softly as he hands the headphones back to me. I put them on, immediately beginning to toggle with the track before me.

“Really. Why, do you not like it?”

I shake my head, eyes glued to the monitor. “No, it’s not that. It’s just...I think that’s the song I hated producing the most. It was by far the most challenging.”

“I can see why. But it sounds like your hard work paid off.”

I forget to breathe for a moment as he reaches out and gently removes the headphones from my head. Placing them on the desk, he crouches beside me and saves the changes I’ve made before closing down the computer.

“What are you doing?” I ask once I’ve remembered how to expand my lungs again. Hoseok straightens up, patting his thighs as though checking he has everything he needs in his pockets.

“That was the final track, right?”

I nod slowly, not catching on. “Yeah, but I’ve still got to review everything and-”

“No.” He looks serious as he shakes his head. “Not tonight. You’ve been locked up in this studio for over a month, I swear.”

Frowning, I turn my swivel chair in a slow circle, glaring at the wall and then Hoseok. “You make it sound like I never leave.”

“Well, do you? I’ve only ever seen you in a studio.”

Scoffing, I stop spinning and face him. “I go home at the end of the day! I shower! Do you really think I don’t shower?!”

Laughing, Hoseok extends a hand out to me which I stare at. My brain is completely fried.

“Sure, ok. You shower. But you leave here late and come back early. You’re finished - you’re practically finished, don’t give me that look - with the album and if you really want to review it, you can tomorrow. But I’ve listened to all the tracks and you deserve a break. Come on.”

He keeps his hand out, waiting for me to take it. Groaning, I grab my phone off the desk and take his hand. Hauling me up and out of the chair, I realize that his hand is larger than I thought it was. And warm.

“I can’t believe you’re kicking me out of my studio- it’s only 9 o’clock!” I shout as I see the time. I haven’t been out of the studio before 9 in weeks, usually opting to leave around 1 or 2 in the morning. Hoseok chuckles before me, looking at me over his shoulder until he slows down enough to walk beside me.

“When was the last time you were actually outside for longer than it takes to walk to your car?”

I shrug. “I take the bus. Can’t relate.”

“Whatever, you know what I mean.”

Squinting up at him, I curse those honey-brown highlights that are still prominent in his hair. He looks like some sort of model that got lost in the agency building, not my friend that sits with me and offers unsolicited advice.

“I don’t know…” I pout as he opens up the door and we head out into the night air. “A while?”

Laughing, he nods his head. “Yeah, I bet. Here, I’ll give you a ride.”

Stopping in my tracks, I shake my head. “No, that’s fine. I’m ok to take the bus, it stops right in front of my street and everything.”

Hoseok stops with one foot hanging off the curb, ready to head into the parking lot. He tilts his head to the side in that cute habit of his. Struggling to maintain an innocent expression, I watch as he marches back over to me.

“First off, do you consider me a friend?”

I’ve never seen Hoseok’s intense professional side before, but I can see that same tamed fire lurking behind his eyes as he draws nearer.

“I...yes?” I assume that’s the correct answer.

He nods his head before moving on to the next question. “Good. Secondly, I don’t remember saying that I’d give you a ride home. Did I?”

Blinking up at him, I shake my head. “No...but then where are we going?”

In an instant his intense gaze turns into the happy-go lucky expression I’ve come to associate with Hobi. “To celebrate! You just finished producing almost an entire album with only Pdogg for company; that’s a feat in and of itself.” He pauses, looking at me with a soft gaze. “You’re ok with that, right?”  

Once I nod Hobi jumps off the curb and leads me to his car. Where I’m expecting a sports car I’m pleased to see a normal, albeit nice, car waiting for us. Opening the door wide for me, he gives me a big smile as I reluctantly get in.

Once he buckles up and starts the car, I turn to look at him. He looks a bit worried behind the driver's seat.

“Are you ok?” I ask. He quickly nods.

“I’m fine...I just don’t tend to drive that often. It’s not my favorite.”

I can’t help but laugh a little at his concerned expression. “Right, I forgot.” He eases out of the parking lot at a slower speed than necessary, but I let it slide. “Why did you drive today?”

He shrugs. “Just felt like it. Are you hungry yet?”

I raise my eyebrows. “I think I could eat again.”

“Great,” Hobi smiles at me before returning his full attention to the road. “I think the boys ordered pizza.”

Heart dropping to my toes, I nearly smack him before I stop myself. “The boys? What are we doing?”

He’s too focused to laugh at my obvious worry, but the ghost of a smile flits across his mouth. “Well, you don’t really seem like the type to hit up clubs and stuff to celebrate, and I figured you’d be tired after everything. So we’re heading to my apartment to eat and maybe watch a movie or something.” He spares me a quick look. “Unless you’d rather go home. Really, I don’t want you to feel pressured. I can just drop you off.”

A part of me wants to shrivel up with embarrassment at the thought of hanging out with the rest of BTS tonight; I’ve only ever seen them at work. Unlike with Hobi who I see nearly every day, I’ve only seen the other boys a handful of times.

I doubt they even know my name.

The small part of me that has kept me up staring at the ceiling and replaying every moment spent with Hoseok; his warm smile and soft eyes, the way he says my name and seems so kind...that part has me smiling at the man in the driver’s seat.

“If you can get us all the way to your apartment without crashing this car, I’m down to watch a movie with you guys.”

His eyes light up with something I can’t quite catch before he’s focusing on the road again.

“Perfect. Here, can you figure out how to call Jungkook on this car phone? Tell him what kind of pizza you want.”

Hobi’s apartment can be summarized in one word: clean. When he mentioned going to his apartment, I thought he meant the apartment he shares with the other six members. Instead, we’re at his own apartment. I didn’t even realize he had one of his own.

I say as much when we pull up.

“I tend to split my time between both apartments,” he says, opening up the front door. “However, the floors are being rebuffed at the shared one. So for tonight we’ll be here.”

The smell of pizza intercepts my thoughts as I kick my shoes off and watch with no small amount of amusement the way Hobi delicately places his shoes on the rack. I make sure to follow suit, grinning as he lets out a sigh of relief when I appear to be tidy.

“Helloooo,” Hobi calls as he leads me into the dining area. Jungkook already has his mouth full of pizza when he spots me.

“Oh- mmf...Sunny!” I smile at the boy I just spoke to on the phone. I guess they remember who I am, after all. “Your pizza is...oh, Jimin’s got it.”

Sure enough, Jimin is opening up a pizza with pineapple, olives, and chicken on it. He raises his eyebrows upon seeing my strange assortment of toppings.

“And this is good?”

I laugh a little at Jimin’s attitude, surprised to see him so at home with me.

Instantly feeling more comfortable around them, I grab one of the plates sitting on the table and make my way over to the pizza. “Of course it’s good. Haven’t you ever tried it before?” Hobi follows suit, looking over the options with a sharp eye.

“Can’t say I have. Mind if I steal a piece?” When I shake my head Jimin reaches over to ease a slice out of the box. “Thanks. Also, congrats on surviving the debut album. Hoseokie hyung said you were crazy busy with it.”

My eyes widen a bit as I look to the man in question. Hoseok gives me a guilty smile before returning his attention to the pizza.

“You talk about me?”

The question leaves my lips before I can stop it, and I once again chalk it up to the lack of sleep, fresh air, nutrients, and peace of mind that I’ve been getting lately. Jungkook immediately starts laughing, nearly choking on his pizza.

Hobi shrugs, giving Jimin a brief look that details his plans for his murder. “I’ve mentioned you a couple of times. It’s been a while since we’ve had a new producer under our roof- much less one that works so hard.”

While the compliment doesn’t fail to make me blush, I also can’t get over the fact that J-hope has told Jimin and Jungkook and probably the rest of the boys about me.

“In his defense,” Yoongi says, striding into the dining room wearing a large hoodie, “we did grill him for questions when he kept skipping out on meals with us.”

“Especially when he was smuggling ramyeon out of the break room,” Jungkook adds.

I’m not sure where to look as Hoseok’s face goes bright red under the chandelier. Either way, I can’t hold in my laughter.

“I was wondering where you got all that ramyeon,” I muse. The other boys chuckle, grabbing the last few things before heading out into the living room. I wait for Hobi who’s currently staring holes into his pizza.

“You coming?”

He jumps a little at the sound of my voice, looking up at me with his mouth in a small frown before smiling. He dips his head to the side in that way he always does.

“Right behind you.”

February 2019

Things slowly begin to change. The debut album is reviewed and accepted, and suddenly I’m no longer eating in my studio with Hobi. Instead, I’m showing up at his apartment after work for dinner.

His schedule has gotten busier since mine has relaxed now that TXT is debuting in less than a month. Unfortunately I can’t just show up on set or in his studio or wherever it is he’s working for the day, so instead I begrudgingly accepted his offer of dining in at his apartment.

He’s never alone, our meals now consist of Jin usually choking on something or Yoongi making sly comments under his breath. Namjoon has only been there once, according to the rest of the boys he’s a workaholic. It doesn’t surprise me at all.

Jimin is a constant at Hobi’s apartment; apparently he’s none too happy about his roommate spending more time at a separate place. Jungkook and Taehyung usually tag along, although Jungkook has a bad habit of wandering about and leaving early.

Dohyeong has come over a couple of times as well, he made sure to make fun of me for no longer stopping in at his studio.

“You’re busy these days,” I say as I try to defend myself. “I don’t want to be a distraction.”

Dohyeong shrugs, completely ignoring the dark circles under his eyes. “We’re not too busy. And you could honestly be a big help to us, if you bothered to drop in.”

I’m in the middle of rolling my eyes when Hobi speaks up from where he sits beside me. “Actually, you really should. I was talking to Bang PD about it and-”

“You talked to Bang PD about me?” I shriek, dropping my spoon in my soup and turning my full attention to the man beside me. “Are you trying to get me fired or something? Jeez, Hobi, you’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days!”

Hobi looks like he’s not certain if he wants to run off screaming or burst into laughter at my sudden outburst. He holds up his hands in an innocent gesture. “Hey, all I did was mention the fact that you’ve been working very hard and that you show a lot of promise. If we could get you on a project of ours, it might really open up a lot of doors for you. You know, more than the occasional song.”

I stare at him, the table completely silent as I study out his face. He’s casually eating his food, keeping one eye on me as though waiting for me to start beating him up. He straightens up and grabs a bit of the meat from his soup, blowing on it before extending it out to me.

Glancing between him and the meat, I sigh before leaving forward and biting it.

Later that night, as we’re watching “Inception” and everyone is lounging about the living room, I look over to Hobi who sits between Jimin and I. The light of the movie dances across his face, leaving me a bit starstruck as I mull over his words.

I’ve worked on a few small parts of songs with the other producers for BTS before, but I’ve never headed a project for them. Granted, I’ve only been at Bighit for a short amount of time. I was thrilled to know that Bang PD wanted me to be one of TXT’s main producers. It’s a big deal, especially for someone as young as I am.

So why is Hobi trying to get me to jump onto some project for BTS?

He must sense my stare, because he’s crinkling his nose before looking over at me a moment later. I stare at him with wide eyes, caught red-handed.

Apparently the dark room doesn’t show him how red I am, because he simply looks at me and raises his eyebrows, silently asking me what I’m thinking.

Scooting in a little closer until my head is resting against the back of the couch near his shoulder, I whisper my worries to him.

“It was nice of you to mention me to Bang PD, but I don’t feel comfortable just jumping in on a project with you guys. That feels...wrong, somehow.”

He nods slowly, bringing his arm around my shoulders and giving me a comforting squeeze. “Ok...you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But I really think you should talk with Pdogg or Dohyeong about it. I just think we could really use your help.”

Once I agree to talk with Pdogg about it, Hobi removes his arm and focuses on the movie again. I close my eyes for a moment, fighting the pounding in my chest as I replay how it felt to be so close to him.

Just jumping in on a project with Hobi doesn’t feel right. I know he’s doing it out of friendship, but I also know myself. The world tends to open doors for people based off of who they know, and I refused to use that to my advantage a long time ago.

Looking around the room at the people I’ve begun to call friends, I wonder if I’ve inadvertently sabotaged myself before I could even begin.

♟

After the movie ends Hobi wastes no time getting up and driving me home like he usually does. It’s quiet inside the car, I lean my head against the window and watch the city lights stream past.

I hear Hobi’s intake of breath before he speaks. “Did you like the movie?”

Glancing over at him, I can’t help but smile. He’s nearly buried in his oversized sweatshirt, his nervous eyes flitting all over the road almost as though waiting for a bear to amble out in front of him.

“Yeah, it’s a good one. I’ve seen it before.”

He frowns. “You didn’t tell me that. We could’ve watched a different one, you know.”

I shake my head, eyes drifting down to where his hands clutch the steering wheel. “No, it never gets old.”

He turns onto my street, starting to let off the gas. “If you say so.” Coming to a stop before my apartment building, he turns to face me. “Hey, about earlier...I know it probably seemed really weird for me to just say that out of the blue, but-”

“Lock the doors.”

“What?”

I lean across him to lock all the doors, grabbing his arm out of fear when I see a burly man edging closer to the car. “Hobi…” I whisper, a sudden shot of fear coursing through my veins.

Hoseok catches sight of the man, who has bent over and is trying to see who’s inside the car. We’re both frozen as he comes ever closer, until he suddenly pounces at the passenger side door, making me scream.

“I see you!” He shouts, his hood dropping from his face. “I see you, you little-”

I don’t get to listen to his colorful language before Hobi throws the car into drive and takes off. I’m still clinging to him, staring out the passenger window. Blood is pounding through my veins, making me see stars even as I gasp for air.

“Do you know him?” Hobi asks, keeping his eyes glued to the road. His voice is exceptionally calm, despite the fact that I know he scares easily.

Finally detaching my hands from his arm, I rub my eyes. “I...I don’t know…?” We pass a speed limit sign, and I jump up in my seat. “Hoseok, slow down!”

He doesn't listen to me, and I swear he almost speeds up. I watch people’s faces as we speed by, a few staring after the nice car with a sneer. If it weren’t for the terror in my system I would have been making fun of Hobi. For a man so terrified of driving, he sure does know how to floor it.

Pressing a few buttons on the steering wheel, the sound of a phone ringing fills the car. A glance at the dashboard shows that Hobi’s calling one of their full-time bodyguards.

My jaw appears to be locked as I can’t even bring myself to open my mouth to ask him what’s happening.

“What’s going on?” The bodyguard, Do-yun, immediately asks. It’s rare for him to receive a call this late at night; it can only mean one thing: trouble.

“Do-yun?” Hoseok’s voice is ice-cold as he begins to deliver instructions. “I’m going to send you an address, I need you to stop by my apartment to retrieve a key and then bring some of Sunny’s items over.”

I perk up a little when he calls me Sunny. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard him refer to me by my pseudonym. The bright name coming from his lips somehow makes me feel cold.

“Yes, sir. Are you alright?”

I don’t miss Hobi’s gaze as he glances over at me with fire in his eyes. “We’re fine. See you soon.”

When we pull up outside of Hobi’s apartment again, I stare up at his darkened windows with wide eyes. He must sense my confusion, because he waits before getting out of the car. Gingerly unbuckling my seatbelt, his icy exterior melts enough for me to see to Hobi that I’ve grown close to over the past six months.

“Rin-ah,” he starts, and I instantly relax upon hearing my name from him. “Did you recognize that man?”

I immediately begin to shake my head. “I told you, I don’t...I don’t know.”

“Have you seen him before? Even just hanging around your apartment, down in the street or something.”

Looking into Hoseok’s eyes, I can see the unending depths of his patience. But there’s something more there, now. Something I’ve never seen before.

A sharp blade hides behind his eyes, one that I’ve never seen him wield. Watching how his hands curl up into fists against his jeans, I realize that I’m not sure I want to see that weapon at work.

Perhaps I’m at my limit, the memory of that man hurling himself at the car and attempting to claw his way inside too much for me to handle. Whatever it is, something pushes me to do something I immediately wish I didn’t.

Looking straight into Hoseok’s eyes, I lie.

Chapter 2

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[reversemoon255]

(From September 2020 to February 2021, I worked on a Pokémon themed Dungeons and Dragons campaign for a few friends. We didn’t get very far, but I put a significant amount of work into the world, story, and several Pokémon that would appear throughout, including an original set of starters. I want to to leave some record of my work, so I thought I’d write a few summary posts. And while I designed these Pokémon, their fantastic art was done by @extyrannomon on Twitter. I highly recommend you check them out.)

Dungeons 'n' Dragonites - Phase 1: Hello Stelopy City

Our story starts in Stelopy City, located in the Wellou Region. We get a brief introduction from DJ Tomomitsu, a radio host, before each player got their own brief story segments. Our first player was Ethan, as aspiring chef, who lived on campus at his high school. Ethan was approached by one of his dorm mates with a favor (to get him out of the building), as well as having an attractive girl meandering around the kitchen (if he wished to try flaunting his culinary skills). He would then get to choose to either finish up his side-quest or go to the local fisher's market, with him transitioning between those locations taking him to the area where he would meet his starter Pokémon:

"As you enter the alleyway, the walls are covered floor-to-ceiling in moss that seem to appear as soon as the shadows overtake the sunlight. The farther you walk, the more weeds you see popping through the cracks. Once you reach the half-way point, you come to a small open space. With the sunlight now flickering down through the plants brave enough to venture off the verdant walls, the entire area shines a bright, emerald green. In the center of this area is a decently sized fountain. It's no longer flowing, but there's a decent amount of rain water filling it up close to the brim. As you approach it, even through the murky iridescent waters, you can see a thick, fuzzy amount of lichen growing all throughout the inside of the basin. As you pass by the fountain, you hear an audible sploosh. Do you turn around? (Y/N)"

There he would meet the first of our new Starter, the Grass-Type Flymph. I kept it secret that I was doing original Starters. Part of my personal excitement in planning everything was the eventual reveal of these designs I had created. Kept me going when things started feeling like a grind.

Our second player, Johnny, started off at home, woken by his father asking him to run an errand. After being able to talk to his family a bit, he proceeded to a somewhat beaten-up house on the edge of the Pokémon-overrun abandoned district where he would receive some boat parts before leaving and the sidewalk underneath him collapses. Stumbling around the abandoned subway tunnels for a bit, he would run into our second Starter, the Fire-Type Calfyre.

Johnny's player wanted to become an entertainer, which didn't give me a lot to work session one, so a lot of his opener was focused on expanding the world and giving everyone an idea of areas they would be exploring later.

Third was Orion who had a quiet morning at home before being provoked via text messages from his siblings to chase down a mysterious "Wailord in a Top Hat." This pursuit would also lead him to the fisher's market and the nearby docks, where, after just catching sight of his quarry, he would encounter the Water-Starter Squisque.

Orion's player wanted a lot of his story to be based on his relationship with his father, so most of his opening was based on reinforcing his family dynamic. Not home, everyone’s busy, focus on work. This particular Saturday was strange in that Orion didn’t have anything going on.

Our last player was Arthur, who also lived on campus. While our other three players started their segments in bed, Arthur was playing lacrosse. After having an opportunity to show off (or fail), he would be told by a friend that he had upset his girlfriend that morning (kitchen girl from Ethan's story), and needed Arthur to pick up her favorite dessert while he attempted to woo her for the rest of the day. After doing so (while being given a chance to explore some of the local stores) he encountered a hungry Houndoom who proceeds to chase him up a fire escape. Once up there he encountered our final Starter, the Fairy-Type Utaw.

After each player met their Starters, they would have a brief tutorial battle against three Pokémon they were advantageous against before running into each other, and were subsequently arrested for "stealing" Pokémon, which would cap session one.

=====

Let's talk design. Stelopy City is loosely based on Chicago, is a portmanteau of "Steel Canopy," and Wellou is a joke on Illinois. The vast majority of the campaign was to take place in this location. Most of my players had very busy schedules (so busy it took us three sessions to get through the above opener), so DJ Tomomitsu was a way for me to easily start each session with a list of things to do (side-quests), and they as a group could decide which they were the most interested in based on time. Tomomitsu himself was based on DJ Sagara from Kamen Rider Gaim, with Tomomitsu being the name of the actor who played him.

As for the starters, I tried to stick to the reoccurring themes we’ve seen over the past 8 Generations. Flymph's name is a portmanteau of Dragonfly, Errol Flynn, and Nymph (the larval form of a Dragonfly). He's meant to be a special attacker, but, like an early DND Wizard, doesn't have access to a lot of them so he brandishes his sword-like arms to intimidate his foes instead. His diet consists entirely of lichens, algae, and similar flora, storing them in his transparent stomach pouches, and can be seen sunbathing in the water, belly up, feeding the plant matter the sunlight they need to grow. He also does not like Bug-Types, and isn’t Bug himself because of Grass/Bug’s myriad of weaknesses (for balancing), plus he changes Types after his first evolution. The theme of Grass Starters is extinction, which won’t become clear until his final evolution, but you may be able to guess how he relates.

Fire Starters are themed after the Chinese Zodiac, and of the remaining four yet to be used (including Snake, Ram, and Horse), I went with Ox. Calfyre's name is a play on Calf and Fire, and is meant to play like a Barbarian. When it comes to personality he's very timid and unsure of himself like a first-time DND player might be acting in a group. Unlike most Fire-Types, Calfyre lacks a Flame Sac. Instead, his spiral horns are filled with a freon-like liquid that, when swirled, rapidly absorbs energy from the air, which he uses for attacks. This chills the air around him, and makes him one of the few Fire-Types that are cold to the touch. Which sucks, because he’s a snugly sleeper.

Water Starters are usually themed after a weapon or character class. This usually shows in the later evolutions, but it's pretty obvious Squisque (a portmanteau of Squirt, Squire, and Bisque) is themed off a lance and shield. He's a paladin in both role and personality, charging in at the slightest sign of trouble, even if there isn't any real danger. It's the typical non-nuanced idea of what people think when they hear "Paladin." He was to a degree supposed to play a catalyst role, charging into situations the players may not want to in order to force them into helping people or combat if need be. He was also the first design I settled on, being based on an old Kaijin idea I had of a lobster-knight using its asymmetrical claws as different medieval weapons.

Utaw is unique, not just in that he was a fourth or Fairy Starter, but in conception. I was only supposed to have three players, but ended up with four. As such, his design is responsive to the others. Why a dinosaur? Because I had a mammal, crustacean, and bug, was unsure if I wanted a bird or reptile, and decided to meet half-way. Why is he Fairy? Because it has very little interaction with Fire, Water, and Grass, while still having defined weaknesses and resistances to certain types. (Also, this player wanted a Dragon-Type.) He’s based on a Utahraptor, hence the name, and is misspelled to include “Claw” or “Caw.” He’s meant to play team Bard, and uses sound moves. As for personality, he's a bit of a birdbrain who enjoys fighting. Not maliciously; it’s just fun, again acting like a new DND player who’s more interested in combat than role playing.

The idea with the personalities was that each Pokémon was supposed to start out like a rookie DND player on their first campaign. Not knowing how to play their class, being uncomfortable acting in front of a group, leaning too hard into your role without bending, or just fighting everything you see without diplomacy. It felt like a fun extra layer to each of these Pokémon that tied them just as much into the DND side of things as the Pokémon.

=====

Back to our story, after being briefly detained (mostly as an excuse to give the players time to introduce themselves to each other, something my DMs have struggled with), they meet Professor(-in-training) Bianca. The four Pokémon had been found by Silph Co., and had decided to donate them to the Unovan Pokémon Research Lab. However, after seeing the Pokémon interacting with these people, Bianca decides to give them up instead. "Pokémon should be with people," after all.

I had three side quests set up following this (after they all go to the DMV to get their Trainer's licenses). The first was a general "there's wild Pokémon here" quest where they could train and catch things. There was a sale at the mall where they could get some cheap held items and have their first trainer battle, and an event at the fisher's market where they could win some free items and would lead into their first dungeon.

The dungeon was what I was hoping they would pick, and would have them chase a group of Poipole through a warehouse, with them having different battles if they chose to enter from the front or the back. After defeating them, the Poipole would be sucked through a spontaneously generating Ultra Wormhole, with a high enough perception check revealing a strange laugh, or on a 20 have them catch a glimpse of a grey Charizard O_O

From there it was a matter of coming up with (or possibly recycling unused) side-quests until we reached the point where the Starters were about to evolve. I had a few things planned; introductions to a few reoccurring NPCs, a field trip to the local museum where they would be able to catch a Yamask (and possibly learn something about the origins of their Starters), and a raid battle against a group of Onix who would recur through the campaign.

The end of Phase 1 would come about with another dungeon. In the middle of the night, Ethan and Arthur would be awoken by their Pokémon to a group of Durant having busted through the floor of the dorm and raiding their kitchen. Easily driving them off, their Pokémon would encourage them to pursue. Later, full party in toe, the four of them would explore the Duranthill. There would be a number of possible encounters, but only one mandatory fight before reaching the depths. In said encounter, while being surrounded by a group of Durant, they would receive unexpected help from this Pokémon:

With some interpretation, they would discover that this Princess Durant was afraid for the sake of her colony. A new queen had taken up residence there, and was commanding the Durant to attack the surface and steal food for her. With additional party member in toe, they would descend further with better direction, eventually discovering the lair of the Queen Durant...

[jacksgreysays]

Could/should/did prompt Shikako in bnha?

it could have gone like this:

"How does your quirk work?" the girl at the bar asks. She's far too young to be at a bar, but no one can make her leave.

... which is alarming considering this is also the headquarters for the League of Villains and she very much is not part of said league.

Not that Kurogiri isn't trying to fix that. "If you join us, I'll tell you," he says mildly, sliding a drink over to her. Non-alcoholic, of course.

"Hm, I'd rather not," she responds equally mild, casual as she drinks the beverage, unafraid.

Kurogiri shrugs and continues his work. Just because he's trying to recruit her, doesn't mean he's going to be pushy about it. And anyway, he'll just ask her again tomorrow, same as yesterday and the day before and the day before that.

"Were you able to find your... Gelel, was it?" he asks conversationally. He's considering cooking something, a proper meal and not just snack food, something high in nutrition.

The girl sighs, staring off forlornly into the distance. After a moment of silence, she says quietly, "No."

Maybe a stew? Something filling and comforting?

"I... I don't think I'll meet Gelel again."

Frazzled for some reason, Kurogiri slides an entire jar of cherries to her.

She looks up at him confused before opening it and sliding both the jar and the lid back.

He blinks and is grateful that his expressions are near impossible to parse. "So what are your plans now?" Kurogiri asks, hoping that is less of a land mine.

The girl shrugs, fiddles with the end of her braid, "I'm not entirely sure. I wasn't really planning on being here long term."

He looks around, a quick glance upstairs, assessing, "Do you have a place to stay?"

She shoots him a wry smile, "I'm still not joining your league."

"It's not my league," he corrects her.

She rolls her eyes. "The league you are a part of," she amends.

Kurogiri shrugs, acquiesces. He considers what living necessities a normal person who isn't an undead entity made of fog and shadows might have. "Do you have anyone who could help? Friends? Family?"

At this, the girl's expression shutters again, and Kurogiri curses himself internally. After another silent moment of contemplation, she meets his eyes. Her face as inscrutable as his lack of one.

"Something like that."

---

it should have gone like this:

It's different this time, Shikako thinks, wider and far more unpredictable. Impossibly overwhelming. At least there is the semblance of morality--good versus evil, heroes against villains--but that doesn't really hide the truth of it:

Once more, Shikako finds herself born into a world of child soldiers.

Damn it.

But she thinks she can keep herself out of it. Her family aren't heroes, though they do make devices and gadgets that help heroes with their jobs. There isn't an oncoming apocalyptic disaster on the horizon--or, at least, not that she knows of. She can live her life in relative peace, stay out of the thick of things. She wants to thrive in this world of powers without prophecies, relearn to love invention without the desperation that had pushed her before.

Although if she happens to create things that are helpful to heroes that's not really getting herself involved, that's just contributing to society and also following in her new parents' footsteps. And everyone knows that UA's Support Department is the best in the country, it only makes sense to apply for that school.

And, yes, she may have gone a little over the top during the test but, really, they were robots and where else would she have the opportunity to test her limits (or lack thereof) without fear of bystander casualties? And, what, was she not supposed to help out her fellow test takers when they needed it? That's just common decency.

Honestly, she has no idea how she ended up in the Hero Department's Class 1-A.

She also does not understand why Principle Nezu won't let her transfer into the Support Department--obviously, she'll do the most good there. She has a portfolio to prove it!

... Although that just backfires on her because instead of getting transferred, she just gets an additional period added to the end of her daily schedule where she and Mei Hatsume--who maybe lives in the Development Studio--unintentionally compete for most volatile inventions under the exhausted supervision of Power Loader. And she still has to deal with the even more volatile personalities in the Hero class with Aizawa-sensei's frankly bizarre teaching style.

If she weren't who she was--if she didn't remember--she probably wouldn't be able to balance things as well as she does. Although she doesn't really connect with her classmates as much as she probably should, hasn't really fallen into a group the same way others have. The occasional exchanges she has with Dark Shadow has made them friends of a sort, she thinks, though maybe not. Except for minor conversations over homework or the weather, she doesn't really talk to anyone in Class 1-A.

Of course, this changes after they are attacked in the USJ. Asui helps her out in the Flood Zone when Shikako is taken by surprise--teleported into water, not her best moment--and together with Midoriya they regroup with some of their other classmates only to find Aizawa-sensei in the middle of being brutally murdered.

And something within her snaps:

Because this isn't her home and these aren't her teammates and she doesn't really want to be a Hero, not really, but... Rule Number One.

Maybe its not so different after all.

---

but it actually went like this:

When the students of UA move into the newly built Heights Alliance en masse, each class finds a fun addition to their ranks.

"Three in your case," the girl with the braid says to the collective curiosity of Class 1-A. "Apparently your class is... special," she says it with an almost diplomatic smile, but from the unimpressed expressions on her compatriots' faces it's not exactly a compliment.

Iida, ever the dutiful class representative, is the first to respond. "Isn't it too late in the year for you to transfer to UA? And while the dorms are capable of housing additional students, I don't believe our classroom will be able to do the same. Though that is not to say that you are unwelcome, rather, that we would not want you to feel unaccommodated."

The other girl, the one with purple hair and a scowl, scoffs, "You've already met us, we're Agents. We're not joining your class. Why would we want to be Hero students?" With her expression and crossed arms, she could not convey more disgust with the very idea if she had spat on the floor.

Some of class bristle at the insult, Bakugou audibly snarls, but when the last Agent, a boy with black hair, slants a disapproving glance in her direction she looks away, chastised.

Quick to clarify, the first Agent says, "We'll be living with you in the dorms, but we'll continue our educations separately. For you, UA has become a boarding school. For us, we'll commute to our respective schools. But thank you for your concern." 

"But if you're not students, then why are you here?" asks Kaminari, practically emanating confusion.

The male Agent, with a somehow even more disapproving expression, sighs. "Your teacher should have been the one to tell you."

"Your principle, along with building the Heights Alliance, has acquired the services of our Agency as another deterrent to Villains," explains the friendly Agent. "Most of the buildings have only Agent assigned, but given your class history you get the three of us. I'm Agent Bat," she introduces herself with an almost awkward little wave.

"Agent Hawk," says the boy, nodding in greeting.

The purple haired girl, arms still crossed, rolls her eyes, "Possum."

"Possum and I will be on the second floor, Hawk will be on the fourth floor. If you have any information or suspicians of Villain incursions and activities you can come to any of us. We also have a trained medic in 1-B's dorm, Agent Slug, she'll probably introduce herself later today. Otherwise you can just pretend like we're not here," Agent Bat says.

"So you're just going to be... watching us?" asks Ashido.

Agent Bat shakes her head. "No, no, just consider us as neighbors. When it comes to Villains, your concerns are our concerns."

His already minimal patience worn thin, Bakugou finally explodes, "We don't need any fucking babysitters!"

While most of his classmates wouldn't phrase it the same, the sentiment is shared amongst them. They've survived so much already--random interlopers trying to take control just grates on them.

"Well it's not your choice, now is it?" Agent Possum shoots back, ready and raring to match Bakugou's irritation with her own. "We're Agents and this is our mission. If you want to be pissy about it, it doesn't matter. Although if you're going to act like a brat, no wonder your principle thinks you need babysitters."

"We're not actually your babysitters," Agent Hawk clarifies, tone apathetic. "We're not here to protect you."

"The dorms and your sensei are your security. We're not your bodyguards." Agent Bat continues with an almost sheepish shrug that fails to mitigate the coldness of her words, "You're our bait."

~

A/N: I realize this ask box event is essentially tripling the amount of effort required for each prompt... I mean, I’m still enjoying it. But like... far more challenging than I thought it would be going into it.

Anyway, the “actually happened” section is based off of my fic built on a hill (light the fire)

For the Could/Should/Actually Fic Ask Box Event!

[dailyexo]

[INTERVIEW] Lay - 200819 Rolling Stone India: “How Lay Zhang Claimed The Throne of M-pop”

"The singer-songwriter and producer offers an in-depth look into his latest record ‘Lit,’ his evolution as an artist and finding the balance between East and West

When I last spoke to Lay Zhang in 2018, he was embarking on an ambitious but daunting journey to bring Mandarin pop aka M-pop to the world. “I hope they think, ‘This artist isn’t bad,’” he had said with some trepidation in his voice. “I hope that they find my music special and maybe… they’ll want to learn more about me and Chinese music.” The singer-songwriter and producer aspired to create a true hybrid of traditional and modern music, a sound that defines our generation’s ability to package the past for the future.

Zhang, more commonly known by his stage name LAY, first debuted in 2012 as a member of world-famous K-pop group, EXO. Although he remains a member of the group, he’s spent the last couple of years in China to focus on a solo career and spotlight his own country’s burgeoning pop scene. It’s a process he kicked off with his second studio album Namanana in 2018, but he was still some time away from realizing his dream of pushing Chinese pop to a global stage.

It’s been nearly two years since our conversation for Rolling Stone India’s November 2018 cover feature, and any signs of trepidation are a thing of the past for LAY. We could chalk it up to him being two years older and wiser, but I’d like to think it’s because he kept his promise to bring M-pop to the world. If Namanana was just a dip in the pool of fusion experimentation, his latest studio album Lit is the deep dive.

“It is the evolution of M-pop for me,” LAY explains. “I wanted to take it to another level. When you hear the Chinese instruments, you know it is a different sound and vibe. The style is more pop, R&B, and hip-hop influenced with the Chinese instruments thoughtfully mixed in.” Comprising a total of 12 songs (all written and co-produced by LAY) Lit was released as two EPs instead of one LP; the first dropped in June while the second made its appearance in July. Nearly every track presents a fresh blend of traditional Chinese instruments like the hulusi, guzheng, flutes and gong with modern genres like trap, R&B, soul, hip-hop, future bass, dubstep and more. It’s a complex, refined and intricate record, utilizing production techniques that clearly outline LAY’s growth as an artist over the past two years. In retrospect, Namanana comes across a slightly more naive record–innocent and optimistic with a hope that international audiences would embrace both M-pop and LAY. Lit however seeks to take a different path and carves out the future LAY envisions with cool confidence and fearless production.

The tracks seesaw smoothly from Mandarin to English and back, with LAY showcasing both his vocal and rap skills. It’s an extremely powerful and expansive album, hair-raising at some moments due to the sheer surprises the artist packs in (at one point I hear what sounds like the tabla on “Call My Name” and it catches me totally off-guard.) Some of the collaborators on the record include big names like hip-hop hitmaker Murda Beatz, Grammy Award-winning producer Scott Storch, composer and producer Mitchell Owens and Grammy-nominated songwriter Mike Daley to name a few. For the title track “Lit,” LAY recruited China-native Anti-General who created a vicious and chilling trap/dubstep beat to complement lyrics that decimate LAY’s haters, gossip-mongers and the media, challenging them to come forward and take him down if they dare. The track sees the singer-songwriter rightfully crown himself a ‘king’ and leader in the music industry.

If that wasn’t enough, the music video for “Lit” is without a doubt one of the best released in 2020. With hundreds of extras, dancers, impeccable CGI and a compelling storyline, it’s more movie than music video, portraying LAY as a warrior king who refuses to be defeated. As executive producer, music director and co-choreographer on the project, LAY pays homage to China’s rich history and culture with tons of historical references and traditional symbolism. I tell him I particularly loved the symbolism of a white lotus emerging untouched and pure from the black ink–representing LAY’s rise in the industry–and he shares that the magnificent dragon that appears at the end was his personal favorite. “It was super important that we added it in,” he says. “It represents my wishes, aspirations and my relentless desire to always pursue perfection in the works that I create. I want my dancing, visuals, and music to be the very best it possibly can be.”

Lit is also thematically more complex and layered than any of LAY’s previous works, exploring concepts that revolve around confidence, love, fame, the media, success and more. “The album continues to explore chasing your dream,” the singer explains. “This time it’s about more personal things in my life. Like hometown, family and self-doubt.” A phonetic play on the word for lotus (莲 / lian) in Mandarin, ‘lit’ is a clever pun used to describe LAY’s similarity to a lotus and his prowess as a musician. He named the album after the lotus because of the symbolism of it growing and blossoming from dirt or mud. The lotus also continues the theme of duality with Lit’s two-part release, and, according to LAY’s team, “represents a new birth plus a new sound in the midst of all his past achievements.”

The album’s success more than speaks for itself– when the pre-order for Lit went live on China’s QQ Music streaming platform, nine certification records were instantly broken as it surpassed 1.5 million pre-orders within seven minutes and 19 seconds. This immediately pushed the EP to Number One on QQ Music’s daily and weekly album sales charts. Lit has also made LAY the best-selling artist in China in 2020, with a whopping 2.5 million records sold. It’s a testament to his drive and determination as an artist, the attention to detail and refusal to back down. The record’s international success was no less, hitting top 10 positions on iTunes charts across 32 countries, bagging 21 Number One spots and firmly cementing LAY’s position as the global megastar that he is.

Some things however, never change; brand deals, TV shows, multiple singles, EPs and collaborations keep his schedule completely booked and– just like back in 2018– it’s extremely tough to pin him down for a conversation. He’s currently in the middle of filming a reality show and has several other projects in the pipeline, but still makes the time to catch up and answer a few questions for Rolling Stone India. In this exclusive interview, LAY details his most successful record yet, the journey of finding the balance between East and West, dealing with the dark side of media attention and why the relationship between an artist and their fans needs to be a two-way street.

Congratulations on the release and tremendous success of Lit! It is an absolutely phenomenal record and I was thrilled to see you explore so many new streams of production. Can you tell me a little bit about the process of making this album and do you feel you met your own expectations for it?

For this album I wanted to mix in Chinese traditional instruments and tell Chinese stories. It is the evolution of M-pop for me. I wanted to take it to another level. When you hear the Chinese instruments you know it is a different sound and vibe. It is hard to say if I met my own expectations. As an artist you never ever feel your work is perfect. You can always find spots where you can improve. But I think what I was able to do with my team in the time we had was great.

You dove deeper into the fusion of tradition and modernity on this album than Namanana—there was a larger variety of Chinese instruments used as well as bilingual wordplay with language in the lyrics. In what ways do you feel you’ve evolved as a producer and songwriter since that album to Lit?

I am still trying to find the right style and combination to share my music and Chinese culture with the world. Lit was an example of my growth. I had this desire to include traditional stories and instruments from Chinese culture. Trying to find the balance with the Western music was challenging. I had to think and spend a lot of time arranging the chords around and fitting everything together. Also with this album I am talking about things in a more personal level and taking time to explain with more of an artistic style. I feel like I am growing up on this journey.

Lit is the first part of a series of EPs which will make a whole LP—why did you want to release it in this format and when did you begin working on the record?

I split it into two parts to give time to people to listen to it. I feel like if I released 12 songs at once, people may not give enough time to listen to each track. But when there are just six tracks each time, then it gives people time to listen more carefully. I started this project maybe early 2019.

The title track “Lit” is about your battle with the media, hateful netizens and malicious comments/rumors. Does it get easier over time to deal with this obsessive analysis of your life or does it never really ebb away?

It will always bother you, but over time you learn to deal with it. You focus on it less and less and back on what you love doing. When I make my music or learn dance or do anything I love, I kind of forget about it. Just focus on your goals and dreams and everything else becomes background noise.

The music for “Lit” is, in my opinion, the best of 2020 so far. Can you tell me a little about your role as the executive producer and music director on this project? How did the concept come about?

I was very involved in the project. I oversaw a lot of things that happened and discussed with almost everyone on the team on how to achieve my vision. When I was making the song I was thinking about how do we share Chinese culture. I thought filming in an ancient palace would catch people’s attention. It took off from there when discussing with the director. We started adding more and more elements of Chinese culture. We were trying to tell the story of Xiang Yu, a warlord who rebelled against the mighty Qin Dynasty but wasn’t able to conquer China. I’m Xiang Yu, but I’m trying to change my fate and succeed in my goal.

You incorporated Chinese Peking Opera in the music video version of the track and visual elements of Peking Opera in the album art for “Jade”–What was the motivation behind that decision and is there a particular story that the opera section references?

I wanted to bring people back in time to ancient China. I reference the traditional Chinese story of Xiang Yu and his love, Concubine Yu, so then I added in select passages from the Peking Opera Farewell My Concubine which tells their tragic story.

You displayed your incredible skills in dancing in this music video and you recently talked about how dancing was a way for you to show the audience who you are. Did you feel a sense of relief that the audience can see you or understand you a bit better after the release of “Lit”? Can the audience ever truly understand an artist?

It feels good to know people can see me and understand me more. I don’t think people can ever understand an artist completely. But they can relate to many things. I think that is a challenge for an artist to see how they can use their music to connect with people. It is a worthy challenge.

How do you hope that the artist you are today crafts the Lay Zhang of tomorrow?

I always believe in working hard and improving. I hope that the Lay Zhang of tomorrow continues to keep looking for ways to improve his art. I hope he never gives up his dreams.

Last time we spoke, we talked about Asian traditions represented in global mainstream pop culture. Now as you’ve grown as a megastar, you are one of the leading names in pop filling that space, bringing your heritage to the stage. Why is it important for our generation to see ourselves and our histories represented on these platforms by artists?

It is important for people to remember where they come from. They should know their own history and how their culture came to be. Also, it lets other people know another culture and have a deeper understanding. It can stop miscommunication and it helps people be closer to each other.

Why do fans need to see themselves in an artist? Does it work the same on the other side, do you as an artist see yourself in your fans?

I want fans to be able to relate with an artist. It is important for a fan to see themselves in artist and an artist to see themselves in a fan. When you can see each other you are able to understand each other better. You can connect with each other and really feel things.

I absolutely love the ‘Re-Reaction’ videos you have been doing for years and it means a lot to your fans that you take the time to do it. Why did you want to do this series and what does it mean to you to be able to connect with your fans like this and see them react to your work?

I am curious to know what fans and people think of my work. I want to know where I can improve. I want to keep growing as an artist. But also I want to let my fans know that I am reading their comments and I see everything they say.

Other than releasing more music, what are the rest of your plans for 2020? Do you have any film projects that you’re looking at taking up or are you planning on doing something completely different?

I am busy filming a TV drama and a few reality TV shows for the rest of 2020. A very busy schedule.”

Photo links: 1, 2, 3, 4

Credit: Rolling Stone India.