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cheri-translates · 4 years ago

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Headcanon: Let’s break up on the 30th of February

This work, 我们 2月30日号分手吧, was originally written by 君兮耶君兮 on Weibo, and she has given me permission to translate it 🌸

[ VICTOR ]

Every failed prank pulled on Victor has only served to embolden you. Once again, you’ve come up with an idea on how to challenge him.

“Victor. After giving it much thought, I've decided to break up with you on the 30th of February.” Exercising your acting skills, you bite your lower lip, standing before him with a pitiful expression. Your eyes are welling with tears as you pretend to be torn between reluctance and resoluteness.

“Mm,” Victor responds simply.

Without lifting his head, he circles some data on your proposal with a red pen, then draws a cross.

Hold on, why is this situation turning out different from what you imagined? Wasn’t he supposed to tug on your hand, begging you not to leave with reddened eyes? Turns out the television dramas lied!

You gripe, pinching his ear. “You actually responded with just a ‘mm’!”

“What else?” He creates some distance between himself and the desk, giving you more space to move. Resigned, he covers his hand over yours, rescuing his poor ear from your clutches.

“Do you not love me anymore? As expected, men don’t know how to treasure what they’ve obtained!” You lunge at him, and the chair swivels backwards along with this action. Fortunately, Victor holds you before you fall.

“Didn’t you say it yourself?” After keeping you steady, he brings you into his arms.

Enraged, you give him glare, climbing up from his body and giving him an angry stomp on the foot. “Who was the one who said he’d never leave me? Now that I want a break up, you aren’t even trying to make me stay.”

Victor’s brows scrunch up in pain. “Did you really think I wouldn’t know that the 30th of February doesn’t exist?”

Seeing that your plot has been unravelled, you chuckle in embarrassment. Trying to placate him, you nuzzle into his arms. “Heheh, Teacher Victor is really smart!”

He encircles his arm around your waist. As though he’s forgiving a playful child for the umpteenth time, he pinches your waist as a small punishment. “Since a certain someone doesn’t have sufficient IQ, I’ll have to make up for her absence of IQ.”

“Victor, there’s no need for personal attacks!

[ GAVIN ]

Having an off day from work, the two of you decide to stay at home instead of heading out.

He’s currently reading a book while you’re scrolling on your phone as usual. All of a sudden, you come across a pretty interesting prank, and decide to use it on Gavin. “Gavin, let’s break up on the 30th of February.

Gavin freezes, the arm around your shoulders loosening by quite a fair amount. He turns his head stiffly towards you, a dash of pain flashing in his dimming amber eyes. “Have you... thought it through?”

“I have. We’ll break up on the 30th of February.” You give him a nod of certainty.

Gavin retracts his right hand which was around you earlier. With his brows tightly knit, he speaks carefully, his tone filled with unease. “Then... before you find someone who can protect you, could I continue protecting you in the meantime?”

Oh my goodness, I forgot how honest this man could be.

“Gav, look at the calendar.” Knowing that you’ve gone too far, you hurriedly tap open the calendar app on your phone.

“I’m not looking! I know that it’s the 26th of February today, and there are four more days till the 30th.” Gavin cranes his neck away, pushing away the phone you’ve brought to him, tone slightly upset. If he had ears on the top of his head, they’d definitely be drooping.

“Why don’t you take another look?” Suppressing your laughter, you push the phone in front of him again.

“I don’t want to!” He squeezes his eyes shut. “You’re going to tell me that it’s a non-leap year, which means there’s a year and four days left. But a year passes by really quickly, and the 30th will arrive soon.”

Oh no, I’ve shocked this poor boy silly.

Not receiving a response from you even after a long time, Gavin opens his eyes to find that you’ve been rendered speechless. He lowers his head with a pout. “Am I wrong?”

With a sigh, you lift his head, giving him a gentle gaze as you explain. “Dear, it’s a non-leap year, but there are only 29 days in February even in a leap year. There will never be a 30th February, which is why I’ll never break up with you in this lifetime.”

“...”

Gavin blinks, reacting only after a long while. Reaching out to encase you back into his arms, his fluffy hair nuzzles the crook of your neck affectionately. “You gave me a scare. In compensation, go stargazing with me tonight.”

[ LUCIEN ]

The bathroom is always the easiest place for inspiration to strike.

“Lucien, I’ve made a decision. I’ll break up with you on the 30th of February.” Your expression is solemn as you step out of the bathroom, looking at Lucien as he reads a book.

The light in Lucien eyes dim, and he sets down the book. With a mellow tone, he asks, “Little Butterfly, are you serious?”

You nod, repeating yourself once more with the acting skills you’ve picked up from actors during filming. “I’m serious. We’ll break up on 30th February.”

Lucien pauses for a moment, then lowers his head in thought. The situation dawns on him, and he releases a sigh, casting you a resigned glance. Tugging on your hand so that you sit in front of the dressing table, he takes out the hair dryer and dries your hair slowly. “Sorry. Even though I know there won’t be a 30th February, I won’t agree to it.”

“Huh? Why not?” You turn your head, speaking loudly amid the whirring wind. “Since you’ve already figured it out, just play along with me!”

He pats your half-dried hair, then turns the hair dryer off. Then, he locates the styling brush and tidies your hair. “I don’t wish for us to be tainted by the term ‘break up’, even if the chances of that happening is zero.”

Lucien is indeed pretty sensitive when it comes to this matter. Realising this, you obediently sit still on the chair like an elementary school kid, leaving him to tidy your hair. “Okay okay, I was in the wrong. I won’t joke about such things next time. Also, I can promise that the butterfly will never leave her painter in this lifetime.”

“Good.” The corners of Lucien’s lips curl upwards, satisfied.

He picks up the hair dryer again. “Since you’ve admitted your mistake, your punishment will be to make me cream puffs, and accompany me to class tomorrow, in the capacity of a family member.”

[ KIRO ]

Once again catching Kiro red-handed as he steals your snacks, you grab a fistful of his hair angrily. “Kiro, since you’re always taking my snacks, I've decided to break up with you on the 30th of February!”

“Miss Chips, you saw that post too?” Kiro completely ignores the first half of your sentence. As though lacking even a shred of remorse, he places your favourite snack back in its original position, unable to hide it in time. He stands up obediently, the innocent expression on his face causing your anger to dissipate.

“Huh? You already know about it?”

“Of course. There’s nothing Kiro doesn’t know!” Being able to escape unscathed, Kiro’s imaginary tail wags in the air.

You roll your eyes, chasing him away from the snack cupboard. “Boring.”

“But Miss Chips, let’s not say such things in the future. I’ll admit that I was a little frightened earlier.” He lifts his hand, showing you a gap between his thumb and forefinger. “But just a little.”

“Really! Did I really scare you?” Pleasantly surprised, you turn around.

Kiro arches his brows in astonishment, then lowers his head as though upset. “Miss Chips, what’s with that excited expression?”

“Ever since we returned from the haunted house, I’ve always wanted to give you a fright, then snap photographs of your expression and make them into memes,” you laugh, taking out a small box from your pocket. Retrieving the lock from within, you clasp it onto the snack cupboard under Kiro’s shocked gaze.

“Miss Chips!!”

On that day, all the citizens within 10km distance had a discussion online about how they heard a man mimicking the voice of superstar Kiro, but his tone sounded so miserable that it was akin to a squealing pig awaiting its demise.

[ SHAW ]

After who knows how many times of facing Shaw’s mockery, you decide to give him a scare by employing a new prank you learnt on the web.

“Shaw, I’m ending our relationship as girlfriend and boyfriend on the 30th of February!”

Shaw’s eyes flit to you leisurely as he grabs the final chicken cutlet on the coffee table. Revealing a triumphant grin, he begs to be punched as he responds, “Pick another day. There won’t be a 30th February in your lifetime.”

???

Finding this incredulous, your eyes widen. “You little brat - you’re looking forward to the end of our relationship, aren't you?”

“I wouldn't say that I’m ‘looking forward’ to it, but it’s inevitable.”

He doesn’t explain further, licking the corners of his lips. Then, he takes a sip of mixed cola from your coke. The longer you watch him, the more enraged you are. It’s often said that people tend to lose their rationality when angry. Without much thought, the words in your head leap out of your mouth.

“Fine! Since you’re so certain, I’ll end this relationship with your annoying eggplant head today!”

“Sure.” Shaw feels around in his pocket.

You turn around to leave, never wanting to see this eggplant head ever again.

“Hey, wait.” He suddenly calls you. “I haven’t gotten my household register.”

Puzzled, you turn around with a glare. “A break up is just a break up. Why do you need your household register?”

Shaw stares at you as though he’s looking at a blockhead. “We’re ending our relationship as boyfriend and girlfriend, so isn’t the next step to start our relationship as husband and wife?”

At this stage, it’s difficult to remain angry. Yet, in order to preserve some dignity, you stutter and stammer, face flushed. “W-who even wants to start a relationship as husband and wife with you!”

“Who else but you?” Shaw digs through the drawer, retrieving both of your household registers. Grabbing your hand, he pulls you out of the house. “Let’s go and get a marriage license.”

–

More translated and original works: here

–

[ Permission to translate ]

君兮耶君兮: You can - just note the source of the author

#mlqc #mlqc gavin #mlqc kiro #mlqc lucien #mlqc shaw #mlqc victor #aeiofjsdklneiowahfsdkl #S H A W

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jokertrap-ran · 3 years ago

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(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story Chapter 3-1: 海水与火焰 Seawater & Flames Translation

“The flames of the sunset flicker within your orbs; and the leaves flutter, falling upon the water surface that is your soul.”

*Light and Night Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *CG Image used with permission from 蓝咕咕 ☆ *Main story tag will be #For Light and Night

Brother Mao: It's soooo god-damned hot out today! A new coffee shop opened down the east street with huge grand opening sales. Come on, come on, everyone grab your share!

Brother Mao had just returned to the office after completing his out of office assignment. He didn't even have a minute to spare to put the bag of goodies down, only wiping his sweat before giving said goodies out to everyone.

MC: Thank you, Brother Mao!

Brother Mao waved his hand in dismissal and threw the neatly folded plastic bag into the bin, only for his eyes to suddenly stop on the handle of the door. He incredulously widened his eyes.

Brother Mao: Since when did our door handle get all fixed up?

Li Man'man: No idea. It was already fixed when I came in in the morning.

Hao Shuai: Sister Zheng Lin, did you nag at the administrative department for this?

Zheng Lin: She fixed it. I saw her fiddling around with it when I clocked in this morning.

Zheng Lin retrieved her documents from the photocopier and jerked her chin at me.

Brother Mao: So this is our beloved heroine of the day! Do humbly pardon me!

MC: I'm the one who broke it after all. Plus, it didn't take that long to fix anyway.

Brother Mao poked his head in front of me, curiously twirling the sleeve of the formal dress I was currently fixing up and doing corrections on.

Brother Mao: You're changing it up that much again? You don't have to reply to me, but you're adding these butterflies? That's real creative! ...And they're all made of twisted metal wire?

MC: Yeah. I started out using soft tulle mesh, but it was all droopy and didn't seem very nice for wings that are supposed to look powerful and lively.

Brother Mao: Now not only does this give it a dynamic feel, but also brings about a romantic yet cruel one!

Brother Mao: Not bad, not bad! Keep at it, and you'll definitely be able to finish fixing it up before next week!

MC: But the Deadline got brought forward… She's going to be doing the fitting tomorrow morning, so I have to finish it by today...

Brother Mao: No way! Don't tell me it's that agent again...

He glanced around, checking that no one had their attention turned to us, before leaning down to my ear.

Brother Mao: I asked around about it earlier, and I heard that the agent has a pretty foul temper.

Brother Mao: Not just to the staff, but her daughter as well. She'll start scolding people at the drop of a hat, even if they did nothing!

It felt as if I could hear the piercing and horrid lashing from that day resounding in my ears again. Her words had been ingrained into my very brain like a needle stuck into a pincushion.

Brother Mao: Geez, Lin Yao's such a brilliant kid. What's there for her to be so unhappy about?

Brother Mao: My mom always told me not to blame myself, and that health always comes first, whenever I fail the promotion. She even said that if I couldn't make it big, then I could just go back home and she'd raise me.

MC: I don't know either. Maybe all these feelings we take for granted come on a conditional basis for her, I guess.

He'd stared at the table and spaced out for a long while. It was almost as if he'd retreated into his memory palace as his expression turned a little sad.

Brother Mao: I'll help you twist them into shape too. Just treat it as my way of thanking her for helping us get out of the pickle we found ourselves in that day.

MC: Okay.

Time passed silently, and it wasn't till nightfall that we finished our work. The office had already cleared out a long time ago, and sporadic stars glimmered in the ink-blue sky up above.

Brother Mao: Done!

I nodded at him in gratitude and kept the now completed dress away. That was when a message notification popped up onto my phone screen.

Housing Agent: Miss (Y/n), don't forget that we're supposed to sign the agreement today at 8 PM. Be there or be square!

Brother Mao: What's wrong?

MC: I'm supposed to go check out the new apartment I'm getting with my agent at 8 PM today, and sign the agreement if all goes well.

And the time displayed on my phone right now was… 7:28 PM.

MC: I should run! Thanks for today, Brother Mao! I'll treat you to food next time!

Grabbing my bag and my work ID, I made a mad dash downstairs.

❖☆———————————★❖

I thought that I'd make it there right on the dot if I'd left now, but who knew that the taxi-hailing app had 80+ people waiting in line! Seeing as how the app wasn't an option anymore, all I could do was to run to the nearest taxi stand.

MC: Why's it not here yet…?

I paced back and forth at the stand, but no taxi ever made an appearance. Just as my anxiousness was about to reach a tipping point, a black sports car drew to a stop before me. The car's windscreen slowly rolled down.

MC: ...Evan?

Evan: Waiting for a ride? Headed somewhere?

MC: Yeah. I'm going to take a look at an apartment. The place I'm renting right now is too far from here, so it isn't terribly convenient.

Evan: Location?

MC: Guangqi-Century City.

He slightly inclined his head, glancing at his watch before getting out of his car and opening the door to the passenger seat for me.

Evan: Get on. I'll send you there.

★Night Choice: Turn him down

MC: No need. I'd be causing you too much trouble.

Evan leaned his arm atop the door of the car, beaming as he looked at me.

Evan: Not at all.

Evan: Besides, I don't have anything on tonight. On the other hand, you seem like you're in quite the rush.

Evan: It'll be bad if you end up late for it because you dawdled here.

His eyes were filled with such sincerity that it made me feel like I'd be doing him a disservice if I refused.

I eventually nodded, seeing as there was no way I could shimmy myself out of this without feeling bad about it.

MC: Thanks.

☆Light Choice: Accept his offer

I glanced back at the taxi stand. It didn't seem like a taxi was coming anytime soon. And I'd really be late if I didn't get a suitable ride soon…

MC: Thanks. Don't mind if I do then.

8 PM, right on the dot. We reached the entrance of the housing estate where the agent was already waiting.

MC: Here it is. Thank you for this! I'll treat you to a meal someday!

Evan: Sure.

❖☆———————————★❖

I hurriedly got out of the car as the two agents quickly rushed up to me upon seeing me.

Agent A: You have a good eye, Miss! This apartment's a hot favourite! 10 over people booked slots to come check it out the moment the listing went up!

Agent B: We've kept this apartment for you till now since you seemed especially keen on it!

Agent A: Let's get the contract agreement signed tonight if there are no problems lest it keeps you up at night!

MC: Sorry, but I'll still have to confirm with you again later. Let's go check the house out first.

Both agents sidled up side by side, enthusiastically explaining and introducing things to me on either side as they urged me forwards.

Thud.

The sound of a door closing behind me made me turn, only to see that Evan hadn't left, and had gotten out of his car.

MC: ?

Evan: I'll go with you.

The agents continued their endless stream of marketing chatter as they pointed out every selling point of the apartment.

Agent A: —And that's all from us. If you sign the agreement contract today, then we can persuade the landlord to give us a little discount...

MC: Okay, then I'll-

Evan: Sorry, but we'll think it through a little more. Could you recommend us some other apartments as well? Sorry about that.

I looked at him in surprise, but he gently shook his head. Hence, I calmed my initial excitement down and turned down their request to have the contract immediately signed.

❖☆———————————★❖

The night was already deep into the throes of darkness by the time we returned to the car park.

The riverbank was coloured with streams of yellow light from the streetlamps above in picturesque disorder. I could smell the refreshing scent of blooming greenery that hung in the air.

MC: Was something wrong with the apartment earlier?

Evan: I don't think you'd like to stay in an apartment filled with construction noises, yes?

MC: But I didn't hear anyone renovating anything?

It was only after the words left my mouth that I realized something.

MC: Oh, right. It's nighttime right now, so all the construction workers should be off work by now… Still, how did you know?

Evan: I noticed that there were paint stains at the edge of the neighbouring apartment's door frame upon entering, and it looked rather fresh too.

Evan: Plus, that housing estate was built 10 years ago, yet the elevator has its interiors boarded up with temporary protective boards.

Evan: So, I'd garner that the neighbouring apartment's most likely, not the only one undergoing renovation recently.

MC: I'd never have realized if you didn't point it out…

Evan: And adding on to that, I observed the surroundings a bit when we entered the housing estate and the security personnel stationed nearby seemed rather sparsely spread.

Evan: So it wouldn't be too safe for you to be staying here alone.

MC: Yeah…

Evan continued talking about the pros and cons of the apartment as the enchanting lights from above reflected in his eyes, melding into the smile that wavered within.

MC: You're so knowledgeable when it comes to this. Did you rent an apartment before?

Although, for someone with his family background, he shouldn’t ever need to rent an apartment on his own.

However, Evan nodded, affirming my suspicions.

Evan: I’ve rented a couple of places for my company back when I was in university.

MC: You mean, the company you founded back when you were studying in Lordton?

Evan: You know of it?

MC: I’ve heard of it before! It’s truly a legendary tale!

Evan: Looks like I’ll have to personally clear up the rumours for you then. It wasn’t exactly a smooth experience.

Evan: I, too, encountered a great many difficulties that I hadn’t thought of before during my first time renting an office.

Evan: For example, unreliable agents. The relevant renting procedures never came to pass for a long time due to that.

Evan: Hence, the office wasn’t ready even if all the employees were already in place.

Evan: And another example would be poor property management, with robberies aplenty as a result.

Evan: Also, I had no choice but to take drastic action and relocate the entire office to a new location since I hadn’t initially considered office expansion.

MC: Wow, I never knew that starting a business would be so hard. You’re amazing to have done it!

❖☆———————————★❖

Suddenly, my phone vibrated.

[Guangqi Rental] Whole apartment for lease. Felin Avenue, 199 Street. 1 bedroom and 1 living room. [Guangqi Rental] Whole apartment for lease. Changle Heights. 1 bedroom and 1 living room.

It was the agent, recommending me a couple more apartments.

[Guangqi Rental] How about any of these?

MC: Now that's way too many…

Evan: You can forward them to me if you don't mind. I can check them out with you.

Evan: I might not be very experienced in this, but nothing will go wrong with having another person to think it through with.

MC: Thank you, Evan.

The night breeze blew past, gently ruffling the loose hairs that had fallen out of place in front of Evan’s forehead.

Evan: We've been talking for so long that I forgot that it's already 9 PM. Are you hungry? Do you want to eat anything?

MC: I said I'd treat you! How about we do it now?

MC: Is there anything you'd like to eat?

Evan: Just pick anything you want to eat. I'm fine with anything.

MC: Don't say that! I'm going to need a proper answer from you today.

Evan: Alright then. I'd prefer for it to be something cooling, if possible.

MC: Hmm… Something cooling?

I glanced around, my eyes sweeping past the signboards of teahouses, food stalls, fast food outlets… until it finally stopped on an old and aged sign that stood not too far away.

MC: I know! Wait for me for a while!

❖☆———————————★❖

MC: Auntie! Can I get two servings of red bean ice and two servings of fruit soup?

Many customers surrounded the small shop. The owner stirred the pot of soft red beans, filling the air with a delectably rich scent of sweetness.

Due to the auntie being the only one manning the store, the demand for the red bean ice far exceeded the available supply. Hence, I had to wait for quite a while before my order finally got done.

Just as I happily took the icy delights from her, the pitter-patter of rain sounded from behind.

The rain came down hard and vicious.

The raindrops that pelted against the roof were akin to silver metal wires, trapping me within the confines of the narrow eaves.

With no other option in sight, I held the two cups of icy treats to my chest using my wrist and freed a hand to shoot Evan a message to inform him of my predicament.

However, before I could fish out my phone… a silhouette had come to a stop before me. He put the umbrella away.

MC: I was just about to ping you. What are you doing here?

Evan didn’t say anything, only smiling gently as he took the icy treats from my arms, quietly standing by my side.

Evan: The rain should cease soon. Let's wait together.

MC: ...Okay.

The curtain of rain secluded us in our own little world, and the puddles, reflecting the neon lights of the signboard above, rippled from the night breeze of summer.

And like a domino effect, this soft and gentle ambience made our moods calmer and much more relaxed in turn.

❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Night⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Chapter 2-24 Light) / (Chapter 2-24 Night) | Next Part: (Chapter 3-3)

#光与夜之恋 #Light and Night #Otome #Translations #Tencent #萧逸 #Osborn #齐司礼 #Sariel #陆沉 #Evan #查理苏 #Charlie #夏鸣星 #Jesse #For Light and Night

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bananaflavoredlemonade · 4 years ago

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Can someone please take THIS Maura and THIS Jane and continue THIS AU I started work on and cannot for the life of me manage to find the time nor energy to work on.

RIZZLES COLLEGE AU

She was an enigma, this mystery woman. You’d probably seen her a dozen times before you even spoke a single word to each other. She was always just around. You’d spot her leaning casually against the side of an old black Jeep Wrangler, jeans hanging low on her hips and ill-fitting Red Sox t-shirt slung over her frame. She’d wizz past you as she chased a frisbee across the quad, or pause her rush out of doors to silently hold them open for you before fleeing back off. Her laugh would catch you mid-bite of your salad and without fail every time you’d spin to find her cackling with her mouth wide and half chewed food balancing precariously on her white teeth. For reasons you could not explain, you were obsessed. When her air freshener caught your eye, you’d gone home and spent hours scouring specialty air freshener companies to figure out who the man was who’s head was lucky enough to grace her presence. Someone named Jim Halpert was quite the lucky gentleman. And maybe if knowing exactly what her car smelt like before you got anywhere near it filled you with butterflies and warmth well… who could blame you.

She pulls into her typical parking space and waves enthusiastically at a beautiful young man with deliciously creamy chocolate skin and your heart stalled into a palpitation. Watching her tug on a t-shirt over her bikini top and taut abs certainly didn’t help. But when she climbed from the topless car in the sweltering summer heat and clapped a hand on his shoulder blade in a friendly greeting, you caught your breath and heaved a small sigh of relief. Maybe becoming enamoured with a complete stranger was not the best decision.

You’re staring down at your phone, speed walking across the quad to get to your next class when heavy footfalls start landing beside you. Black Nike slides are beside your birkenstocks as they pass over the grass you’re crossing and you immediately question the motivations of whomever would choose to wear white tube socks with a sandal-style shoe. That is until the culprit speaks and you realise that you absolutely should’ve picked it sooner.

“Maura Isles” the gravelly voice speaks as a hand casually comes to your lower back and averts you from becoming roadkill under the size 13’s of some speedy and oblivious jock running across your path. “You’re quite the hazard. With your head down all the time, or staring off into space. One of these days someone is going to wipe you out and I’ll have to take out a douche in a jersey, then we’ll have trouble.”

Her eyes are such a deep brown that you’re unsurprised you’ve been unable to make out her eye colour from afar. “You know my name.” it’s a ridiculous statement to make, but instead of judging you she simply laughs with her head thrown back and hand still burning a hole into your lower back.

You’re almost at the study hall that you’ll be trapped in for the next hour and for once you aren’t looking forward to class. “Of course I do.” You quirk your brow at her, because you’re almost certain you’ve never interacted with any of the people you’ve seen her around, she’s definitely not in any of your classes, and this is the first time you’ve spoken. “It’s on your phone case.”

In your palm, you flip over your leather encased phone to survey the back where – as you already know – ‘M. Isles’ is imprinted in silver. “Ah, yes.”

“I usually only see those with initials. But then again; I’m no phone expert. Mine are typically held together by duct tape and desperation.”

Your eye roll is instantaneous and unavoidable as you helpfully relay to her, “My mother. She insists that I ‘take pride’ in my name. So when I requested a personalised phone case with my initials on it and opened this, I was truly unsurprised.” You pause to laugh “displeased, but unsurprised.”

Her feet stop suddenly as you reach the lecture hall and her calloused hands disappear into the pockets of her short black shorts, fingers outlined within her pockets as the tips force the inners of the pockets from the bottoms of her shorts. “Well, this is you.” You look up and it is. You open your mouth to ask how she knew, but she’s already speaking. “It was nice speaking to you, Maura Isles.” It’s absolutely salacious the way that your name rolls off of her tongue and for the first time possibly ever, you’re pleased to hear someone use your full name.

Only, you’ve just realised that you’re unsure how she knows your first name. By the time you get around to asking, she’s already backing away with you with a smirk on her face. “Hold on! How did you know my name is Maura? That’s not written anywhere.”

Her singular stride back towards you is so deliciously long and your eyes are helpless against the tantalising display of thigh muscle on display when she leans towards you to whisper “You have quite the intriguing Tinder profile. I put two and two together.” Closely resembling a fish out of water, you watch as she chuckles and backs away with a wink. “Have fun in Bio.”

“What’s your name?” You call after her much louder than is necessary. She says absolutely nothing as she raises her hand in the air above her head so that you can see if over her shoulder and makes a repeated swiping motion, her thumb moving to the right repeatedly before slipping back into the pocket of her shorts.

And if you spend your entire class with your head down and eyes intently focused on the app you’ve left untouched for months, swiping left for the next 37.5 minutes until a tanned and angled face with sparking eyes is looking at you from your screen over aviator sunglasses; well you’ve never been known to back down from a challenge. “Jane” you say aloud before closing the app on a photo of her chiselled abs and bulging biceps straining against the weight above her head.

Two days later you pass her once again leaning against her jeep in the ridiculous socks and slides combo that makes you smile despite the fashion atrocity that’s being committed. You’re not close enough to speak, and even if you were, you’re unsure you’d be able to stop the beautiful black boy in his monologue long enough to get a word in. But her eyes are on you below the sunglasses she placed on her head as you began to approach. When you quirk a smile and silently mouth “Hello Jane” you know that she’s caught your greeting. And as a smile takes over her face, you raise your phone between you and swipe left on her profile. “Work for it” you mouth with a wink.

It’s worked. Her mouth drops open, pupils and eyes blowing wide. You can feel them trailing after your swaying hips and short shorts, and the burn they leave on your ass is delicious. Game on.

It’s over a week before there is any indication that Jane is going to meet your challenge with anything more than a heated look and tantalising lip bite from across the quad. However hope is struck every day that you spot her loitering around the college grounds, and that’s just enough to keep you from giving up. You’re walking out of your Tuesday morning chemistry lecture when she sweeps in next to you.

There’s a single yellow sunflower in between the fingers of her left hand and her right comes to rest hotly against your lower back. She’s dressed unseasonably warm in a white button-up and black jeans that are folded up at the ankles and skimming the top of brown leather boots. It makes you feel inferior in your simple sundress and standard birkenstocks. “For you.” She smiles, holding the sunflower in front of you. The nervousness in her eyes sets off butterflies in your stomach.

“Thank you, it’s beautiful.” Her nervous energy shifts to confidence as you sniff the flower and hold it close to your shy smile. “What’s the occasion? It feels like such a privilege to see you in something other than jock couture.”

“Jock couture?” she snickers. “What exactly is jock couture?”

You look her up and down appraisingly with a cheeky raised eyebrow before muttering “Socks and slides” disapprovingly with a nod towards her feet “running shorts, oversized shirts, baseball caps.” She laughs at you with her head thrown back and her perfect white teeth on show. “I would make the assumption that if we were to open your closet, you’d be able to dress the entirety of the football and baseball teams with its contents and not have anyone question it.”

“I don’t know, I don’t think Frost would look nearly as good as me in my shorts.” Your eyes shift to the parking lot where unsurprisingly your eyes clap onto the beautiful African-American man you’ve seen Jane talking with previously. “Now can we please stop slamming me for how I have been dressed, and appreciate the effort I put in today?” Your eyes run over her form again and you do have to agree that she looks great. “I’m sweating my ass off to try and look half decent.”

You stop her in the middle of the footpath and turn to look at her approvingly. The hand on your back slips off and comes to rest in her pocket as she watches you looking her up and down. “You do look very handsome.” Her approving smile has you nervously shifting your bag up your shoulder and you have to shake your head to dislodge the smitten look on your face. “Now why are you looking so dashing?”

“You’ll see” she winks as she spins you back into motion and suddenly you’re striding back down the footpath towards the restricted Phelman quad that sits to the side of the western lecture halls, and at the base of the Phelman dorms. You’re about to comment that the area is only accessible to tenants of the dorms when she tugs the Red Sox lanyard from her pocket, swipes a fob against the gates keypad and pushes against the ornate entrance. She guides you in and gestures to a picnic blanket set up in the centre of the grassed area. “Everyone’s gotta eat.”

You’re too busy standing in awe of her to follow over to the blanket. However, your eyes track her over to the set up and watch as she rests down on the mat, pulling out containers and drinks from a cooler. She sets down a tray of assorted sushi, a bowl of salad, a packet of your favourite lentil chips, and a tub of homemade guacamole. It all looks delicious and your mouth salivates so aggressively that you doubt you’ll need the soda water or iced tea she’s brought to wash down your meal. “How?” you mutter in disbelief, and it shocks you when Jane smiles up at you charmingly. You were sure she’d not’ve been able to hear you.

“I.. um…” She rubs the back of her neck nervously and you finally see another side to the cocky seductress you’d spent weeks surveying. “I guessed at most of it, but I saw you eating these chips the other day while you read under that big oak by Mossman Hall, and I’ve seen you pick this iced tea from the vending machine before. So I figured they were both a safe bet.” She shifts the tray of sushi out of the way and pulls a wireless speaker from the cooler to put in its place. “I got some vegetarian options if you don’t eat meat, but honestly I don’t know a twenty year old who doesn’t like sushi so..”

Her hands are shifting so nervously over the picnic rug that you feel the need to take pity on her. “Are you making a generalisation Jane?” Her eyes trail you as you hike up your skirt in anticipation of sitting down next to her, and as your fingers skim the tops of your thighs as you lower, you see her breath catch.

Her eyes are on your face as you reach for the container of guac and inspect the flecks of coriander, onion, and chilli that you can see mixed amongst the avocado. “Yeah I guess I was.” You laugh at her and peer up from under your eyelashes. “But it took me a week to figure out the chips and tea, so if you wanted I could go away and come back in a month with a more personalised menu.” She jokingly pushes up from her seated position and you tug her back to the rug with a laugh.

You’re typically hesitant to use colloquialisms or any term that had to be inducted into the Urban Dictionarybefore it could be submitted to Websters, but you know from observing Jane that they’re all frequent participants in her vocabulary, so you resolve to at least try. Starting by venturing with the statement, “Well I guess then that you could call me a ‘typical white girl’, because I am quite fond of Sushi. Though I would prefer traditional Nigiri, I’ve been known to consume a westernised sushi roll in between classes.”

Jane looks as if she is about to choke on the air trapped between her cheeks and you know that the laugh will be explosive when it’s released. “Did that sound as ridiculous as it felt to say?” She nods at you and releases the laugh through her teeth. You laugh along with her and rub your forehead, “Colloquialisms and I are not exactly what you would call well acquainted.”

“You’re just not at all what I would call a ‘basic white girl’ is all.” You blush and reach for your sunglasses inside your handbag, hoping to provide yourself with an escape from both the sun and her stare. “You’re unique, Maur. Don’t ever take that for granted.” You clasp eyes with her before you can secure the Ray Bans across your eyes and the look you share is intense. She’s burning into something so much deeper than your eyes, and you don’t know how to appropriately characterise it without venturing into a belief system that you’ve never before given an ounce of credit. Eventually you both slip from the visual embrace and as you raise the glasses into place, she presses play on the speaker, softly releasing the first bars of Surprise Yourself by Jack Garratt. You’d be flawed by the immediate similarities in your music taste if it weren’t for your brain already stalling at how beautiful she looks tipping her face towards the sunshine. Maybe ‘Handsome’ wasn’t quite as apt a descriptor as you’d thought at the time. With the sunshine on her high cheekbones and rays kissing at her exposed chest beyond the opened buttons of her shirt, she is decidedly striking in a uniquely feminine way that you’d not considered moments ago.

You’d spent some time talking idly about your families – jane has two younger brothers and her mother, her father has been absent for the past few years -, the weather, and your classes that are scheduled for the remainder of the day. Jane tells you about the boutique florist just off campus that she’d visited for your flower and promises to take you sometime when you fail to hide your delight at the news of a new local source for your botany habit. You’ve worked your way through a good portion of Jane’s playlist and its as Falling Down by This Wild Life begins lilting through the speakers that you realise that for the first time in what feels like forever, you’re not uncomfortable with another human being. You slip your feet out of your birks and tuck your legs up under you, sipping at the soda water in your faux flute while you watch Jane swipe a napkin across her plump lower lip. It’s infuriatingly seductive for such an unconscious action. A sigh of contentment runs through you and you shift again to stretch your legs out, flexing your toes into the points that years of ballet had made commonplace. Jane watches the action and you rest back on your elbows, body fully extended and at ease. “What just happened here?” she queries, motioning to your body.

You sigh and tilt your hear towards the sky, “Whatever do you mean?”

“This” she says, eyes raking over your form, “Something just happened with you.”

“I guess I’m just comfortable” you say to the sky, lips parting in a relaxed smile. “humans are.. they’re not an area I excel in.”

Her boot taps the bottom of your foot and she giggles. “Arent you pre-med? I hate to break it to you, but you’ll need to deal with one or two of ‘em after you graduate.”

You smile in her direction in the same relaxed way you had been earlier, “I’m studying to be a pathologist. I know that I’d be a disadvantage to the medical community if I were to work with live patients. My social skills are questionable at best, completely inept at worst. I’m incompatible with most personality types, and my lack of understanding around social queues and societal norms makes me somewhat unappealing to most people.” You meet her eyes when you say the next part, “So to realise that in this moment I’m at ease..” you trail off into a sweet sigh, “it’s so lovely.”

“I’m glad I could do that for you.”

“So tell me about you Jane” you say from your reclined position, eyes closing against the warmth of the sun. “I know so little about you, apart from your family, your evident love of the Red Sox, and the fact that you watch The Office.”

Jane laughs into the air, “How do you know I watch The Office?”

“Your air freshener. It is Jim Halpert from The Office, right?” She gives you a disbelieving look. “I googled it.”

Her smile is infectious and you can feel it projecting into the side of your face from where she sits across from you. “You would be correct Doctor Isles.” She boosts her body up into a more prone position and leans towards you. “Where to start..”

You speak up from your position, “Should we start with what you’re doing on campus? I assume you don’t study here. I’ve never seen you in a class, you never have any books, and you always seem to be the centre of whatever social gathering is happening in the parking lot.” She gives you a comical glare and you challenge her with a quirked brow, “Am I wrong?”

“No, you’re not wrong.” You exchange a smile and your face returns to the sky. “A lot of my buddies go here. Frost who you would’ve seen, Riley, Joey, and a couple of the guys from my baseball league. Between their classes and my work schedule it’s easier for us to just catch up here. I get out of my shitty little apartment, and they don’t have to travel off campus.”

“Work” you offer helpfully.

“I’m a security guard. I mostly work nights at private events for the upper crust crowd. My boss, Korsak, he’s an ex cop, teaches me things on the go so that I can be prepared when I finally get around to enrolling in the academy.”

You smile to yourself, truly unsurprised by this revelation. “When are you planning to apply?”

Jane is reaching for the leftover lentil chips from your lunch when she answers you, “Most likely in the winter. I didn’t wanna just leap right in. I wanted to be prepared, ya’know.” She puts a couple of chips in her mouth and speaks while she chews. A truly repulsive habit that you have to keep your eyes closed against. “Work on my form, get all my ducks lined up, prepare my Ma. She’s gonna have a real hard time accepting that I’m signing up to chase criminals and murderers every day. Plus I wanted to take the time to really get myself mentally prepared; Korsak talks all the time about Cadets and Rookies who join the academy all gung-ho and then drop out when they cant hack the pace. The way he tells it, they all crap out because of the mental strain.” Jane eats a whole handful of chips in one mouthful and continues to speak as crumbs fall from her lips, “We all oviuzlee in peak pisikal fom wen we sign up. Couple-a push ups aren’t taking this down.” She slaps a hand against her stomach that echoes hollowly the way that only a perfectly-toned abdomen would. Crumbs dislodging from her shirt.

“Speaking with your mouth full is a truly repulsive habit.” You tilt your head in her direction and look over your sunglasses at her.

“So sorry Mrs Manners.”

Your face tilts back up to the sun when you respond, “That’s an admirable career choice Jane. When did you decide you wanted to work in law enforcement?”

#Rizzles #Rizzoli and Isles #Jane Rizzoli #Maura Isles #modern day college au #Rizzles AU #Rizzoli & Isles #please lord someone write this #it could be soooo cute #Fanfiction #Fanfic #Prompt #unfinished work #hipster jane #boho maura

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sunasbabie · 3 years ago

Note

If there’s something that never fails to catch you off guard, it’s the tiny things Suna does that speaks his love in volumes. When he notices your habits and tendencies that let him know you’ve had a bad day, even when you don’t tell him, he quickly puts his usual plan into action.

Like how he grabs the treats from that cafe or your favorite food takeout from the restaurant, no matter how much his tired body screams at him in aches from harsh training. There’s no shortcut nor quickway to avoid the lengthy travel time that usually he would deem as too much work— yet when it comes to you, there’s no such thing.

Like how when the two of you come home from your respective jobs and you go to change into more comfy apparel, he’ll always quickly steal your phone and go to TikTok or Youtube, since he knows how easy it is for you to scroll away from the world as a distraction, and secretly “favorite” or “like” funny clips or cute ones of animals so that when you open the app, your dash and recommendation feed is filled with them, soft and wholesome videos that are bound to at least brighten your day even just a bit.

Like how when you can’t keep it all bottled in and the tears start flowing, he’ll hug you to his chest and take you two to the couch so you can lay on him, and he’ll pat your back like he’s done for his little sister after their fights as kids or when some asshole’s been picking on her. he doesn’t say anything, but the silence isn’t empty.

Like how he never fails to hold your face in his hands and brush his lips over each tear, making sure to get every single one. And when later on you’ll ask him why he always does that instead of just wiping them, he’ll stay quiet for a few seconds before admitting, “You know how they say you should kiss away the pain? Some shit like that I guess.” The tips of his ears would tinge the slightest bit of red, because to be honest, he just does it without reason. He just does things because in loving you they feel natural.

Like how he makes himself stay up a bit after you’ve fallen asleep curled up to him, because he wants to remember your sleeping face (both in mind and in cameral roll). His old high school banner sounded cool— “We don’t need the memories”. But it wasn’t until you, that he found that he does need the memories. He does need the kiss your tears to etch your sadness into his bones, to remember your pain is his as well. He needs to capture your sleeping face to remember that’s what he wants to protect the most. And he needs to do all these things that the past him would’ve said it’s all too bothersome and too much work, because he wants to remember the tide of satisfaction and contentment that washes over him when you show him that smile of true happiness— when you remind him that for you, it’s all worth it.

stop i love all of these so much 😭ty anon i love you very much >:(

#chloe's inbox #🌸anon #i absolutely adore all these :<

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nautiscarader · 4 years ago

Text

Calm yo’ tits - a present fic for ZekkKiray

Rating: E, ladynoir/Adrinette (post-reveal), 9143 words (by notepad++ count, 8886 according to Ao3, so one of you is LYING)

Read on Ao3

contains breastfeeding, lactation and mooificated large breasts.

Now, if you look at the tags (and the word count), and you know me, you might be understandably confused and worried that I might have been possessed, hacked by a Russian bot, or simply gone mad. The last part is very likely, but it is not the reason of this fic's existence.

The fic you are about to read is a present for my buddy, ZekkKiray, a vastly superior fic writer, who on one occasion quoted my works as inspiration for his, which solves once and for all the age-old philosophical dilemma, proving that something can indeed come from nothing.

I knew, to some extent, what his favourite kinks are, which sadly, were not exactly compatible with mine. So I needed to find a fandom we both like, and where I wouldn't have to worry too much about silly things like logic or common sense.

Enter "Miraculous Ladybug".

To put it simply, this fic is a bit of crack, I tried working some elements from my personal headcanons, and it doesn't break, assuming you don't push it too hard. More importantly, though, it's a birthday crack. Happy birthday, pal!

Also, this takes place after S3 finale.

================================

Sitting tensely in her chaise-longue, Marinette eyed her tutor and a temporary enemy with a keen eye. She has taken many exams in her young adult life, but this one might have been the most important so far. She concentrated on the small, levitating creature that flew that past her head, and when Tikki revealed a card, Marinette instantly replied.

- Zaggu, gnu kwami, the hero is Ram-page, and has ability to shapeshift terrain. Strong, but not too agile. Best pair with Pegasus for optimum efficiency. - she spoke quickly. - Yes! That's the last one! - Tikki cheered, flying to nuzzle Marinette's cheek.

For the past few days, Marinette has been extensively trying to fill in the shoes of Master Fu, as the new Miraculous guardian, and she has passed her self-imposed exam with flying colours, guessing each and every Kwami Tikki has tested her with.

- Well, if there are any challenging akumas, you will surely be able to know how to dispose of them! - Tikki cheered. - I sure hope so. - Marinette smiled - But now I have to study for actual exams, Tikki.

Marinette walked to her desk, took her college textbooks and opened them, her other hand already deep in the bowl of fruit snacks she prepared beforehand, knowing of the revision session ahead of her.

- Don't you want to study with Adrien? - Tikki flew by her head - Last time you said he's helped you a lot. - I wish. - Marinette sighed dreamily at the sound of her boyfriend's name - And he did, but...

Her cheeks suddenly became slightly deeper shade of burgundy, and she shied away from her Kwami. The mere thought of her boyfriend made her instantly forget about her duties, both as a college student and as a protector of Paris. She let herself indulge in a fantasy of what could happen if the two were put together in her room, and were given a choice between studying for a very boring exam, or doing anything else... However, Marinette had to exert some self-control, and with her friend acting like a second moral compass flying next to her, she had to abandon of her daydream.

- You know, this is quite an important exam, I don't want to be easily distracted and-Adrien!

She let out a gasp when her phone buzzed, and she grabbed it to answer at once. Tikki smiled, watching as her friend melts in her chair at the sound of Adrien's voice. Something told her she's not gonna do any revisions today.

===================

In his dark lair, Hakwmoth was listening. With closed eyes, he concentrated his powers to filter out hundreds of voices, trying to find the loudest and angriest, speaking with pure rage and despair.

He heard squabbling teenagers and forgot about them at once.

He heard depressed, neglected workers and didn't give them a second chance.

He heard a man crying, pitiful and heartbroken, because of his beloved pigeo-NO, NOT HIM AGAIN, THIRD SODDING TIME THIS MONTH.

Gabriel sighed and closed the aperture overlooking Paris. Finding a good source for akuma was sometimes surprisingly difficult. So many voices, so many possible candidates. And yet, again and again, he has failed.

Gabriel stepped down into the staircase that brought him down to his office, and was not surprised to find Nathalie waiting for him.

- Anything new for me, Nathalie? - he corrected his glasses - Just one call from the office of Coco Marocco. They asked for a call-back... - Nathalie paused and dropped her formal attitude - Gabriel, is everything alright?

She gently put her hand on his shoulder, and his body twitched in an instinct to brush it off. But he restrained himself, paused and took another deep breath.

- It's sometimes so... difficult. To find a good one... - I know.

He looked back at her and gave her a rare smile, saying much more than he could have at the time.

- I'll make the call, thank you.

Nathalie left his office, never taking her eye from him as she closed the door. Gabriel sat in his chair, leaned back and dialled the number.

"Hi there! You have reached the office of Coco Marocco, the finest brand of clothing this side of the equator. For English, press One. Für Deutsch drücken Sie bitte..."

Gabriel sighed and let the voice machine continue its job.

"... for business inquiries, press 7".

Gabriel quickly pressed the number, and was welcomed with the same, lifeless, mechanical voice.

"To access your account, please input the number..."

Without thinking, Gabriel typed the eleven-digit number on the tone dial, and waited for the next step.

"We apologise. In order to access your account, you need to speak the numbers", the voicemail said.

A small vein twitched on Gabriel's forehead. He spoke each digit, loud and clear, hoping beyond hope it registered properly.

"We apologise, please say the number again."

It took him two more tries to reach the next step, and he finally heard the familiar waiting music. The second it stopped, he started speaking, but he was met with even more disappointing reality.

"Hi there! Thank you for your patience. Your call is incredibly important to us. Your number in the waiting queue is... FOURTEEN".

The mobile phone crashed and broke into dozens of pieces when Gabriel tossed it across the room, careful not to destroy the painting of his wife that hid the entrance to his observatory.

- Why does it have to be so difficult? - he grumbled - Bunch of incompetent buffoons, making the easiest of things so much more difficult-

And then, a sudden burst of inspiration, privileged only to visionaries of his calibre, has dawned on him. He quickly got up and dashed to the elevator, not noticing that the crash alerted Nathalie to peek into his room, as he was too eager to bring his plan into motion as soon as possible.

When he stepped into his lair, he was Hawkmoth again, and he knew exactly what to listen for.

=====================

The glorious weather outside taunted Nino to end his revisions early and go to the nearest park to bathe in the warm sunshine, but alas, he had to spend his day in the near-empty university library. Unable to concentrate, he took his phone and launched the app to check if the last paper has been graded, but was left with a disappointing, never-ending loading screen. He looked at the only other person in the room, sitting by the computer in the corner, and decided to break the ear-splitting silence.

- Hey dude, are the uni servers down, or something? - And when were they not? - the chubby student replied - The app constantly crashes, we can't even check anything, so I'm just loafing around.

Nino gave him - or rather his large neck - a curious look and decided to end the conversation swiftly.

- Well, at least tumblog works... - If only - his interlocutor replied, much to Nino's chagrin, without even taking his headset off - Ugh, why did they change the colour of the background again? - You okay, dude? - he looked at his freckled face, and the man gave him a contemptuous look. - Yeah. But you seem to be okay with using this sub-par version - he glanced at his phone.

Nino raised his eyebrow and glanced at his phone.

- What's wrong with that?

The man groaned.

- Ugh, where do I start? The app also never works, they haven't implemented half the features of the desktop version, they still show sponsored messages, I mean, not for me, I hacked them myself away, and the options, can you believe they dared to change the font, it's so unreadable now...

He took a sip of a drink he definitely shouldn't have been allowed to bring into the library.

- But the site is so full of idiots now, it's not even worth going there anymore. Can you believe there are people defending the new Flunkies game? They've added cut content DLCs now! All of them sheep, they will buy whatever you throw at them, and...

The guy continued to complain into what was now a Nino-shaped void, as he left quietly a minute earlier, slightly afraid that arrogance might be catching.

And he wouldn't be exactly wrong...

If Nino stayed, he would have noticed that the same window that finally tempted him to walk outside with its glorious view, became also a gateway for a dark-purple moth that landed on the student's headset, turning it into equally sinister shade.

Suddenly, the student's complaints, spoken into nothingness, fell on listening ears, and a voice spoke in his head.

- Anton, I am Hakwmoth. I have heard your eloquent delivery, and I must say, you are quite right. - I know I am - Anton replied, without missing a beat. - There are so many little things wrong with this world, and only you know how to fix them... - Yes, I wrote it all on my blog, but now they changed the tagging system, and they don't even filter by the- - The point is - Hakwmoth interrupted him - As all geniuses in history, you are underestimated. Like the Cassandra of the Greek myths, people do not believe you, despite you speaking the truth. But I can change that.

For the first time in rather long time, Anton listened, instead of talking.

- I can give you a platform to speak your wisdom, better than any social media would ever offer. I can give you the voice, and I can give you the chance to make others hear you... And to sway their views at once... - You-you can do that? - Anton asked excitedly, though remaining in his slumped pose. - Oh, yes. - Hakwmoth replied with an oily, greedy voice - All I need in return is for you to bring me Ladybug's and Chat Noir's Miraculi. They are wrong anyway, so they don't deserve them... Embrace my akuma, and rise-

Gabriel paused. He expected to feel something by now, but instead, he heard a quiet tapping.

- Are-are you typing? - Well, duh, someone is wrong on the Internet. - I was going to give you powers to do all of that a hundred times faster... - Gabriel spoke, unable to believe what he heard. - Okay, I'm done. - Anton spoke - What were you saying?

Stopping the urge to find a new herald of his will, Hakwmoth stomped in place and let the power flow through him and into his new apprentice, transforming his somewhat shaggy clothes into regal, red-and-golden attire. The chair he was sitting in merged into his body, becoming a golden, ornamented throne. And finally, the device around his head became a golden, conical-shaped object, perfectly suited for his new puppet, already fitting well in his hand.

- As I was saying... Rise, Echo Chamberlain, and correct the world, for only you know how. - I will! - the new villain spoke into his megaphone and flew out the library in his levitating chair, smashing the window to pieces.

========================

- Adrien!

Marinette jumped the last few stairs of her house and nearly tripped, but fortunately for her, she landed exactly where she wanted - in the arms of her boyfriend, meeting his lips a minute or so earlier than she planned. She smelled his trademark cologne, singed with his name, and she positively melted against his chest, blissfully forgetting about everything around her, until her mother's grunt brought her back to reality.

She jumped to her feet, fixed her hair and waved her parents goodbye, as the two walked outside for a stroll on the sunny day, with just a chance of studying in the park, in between kissing.

- How was the journey? - Marinette asked, eager to learn all about his latest business trip. - Well, nothing too out of the ordinary. I mean, for me. - he quickly added, afraid he sounded too immodest - I wish I could have brought you with me. - No biggie. I know how strict your father can be... - she leaned against his shoulder. - Hey, look, we should get some ice-cream!

Marinette eagerly pulled Adrien towards the famous André's ice-cream stand that now was parked underneath an old arch, and, predictably, has already amassed a small crowd, hungry for some cold refreshment. But as the two approached them, they heard an angry voice, dissonating with the rest.

- What do you mean you don't have chocolate chips? What kind of ice cream vendor are you? - a young woman was arguing with the poor ice-cream maker, who reacted to her anger with his usual jovial, kind behaviour. - Ah, but mademoiselle, I have other toppings, perfect for you! Brandied cherries! Candied walnuts! Peanut brittle! Or even... - he paused, before saying the next word with less enthusiasm in his voice - Sprinkles... - But I want my chocolate chips! - Excuse me. - Marinette gently addressed the angry woman - Don't you think you act a bit selfish? I'm certain André has been working so hard to bring us these phenomenal treats, it's not his fault he ran out of some of the ingredients... - Yeah - Adrien added quickly - And I think you will find some of these are as good as the one you crave, I can attest to that. - Plus, there are a lot of people waiting...

A shared murmur spread behind her, with people nodding, agreeing to Marinette and Adrien's polite reasoning. The woman sighed, and was about to accept the lesser version of her favourite dessert, but the next words she spoke left her mouth with a volume of hundreds of people.

- I WANT CHOCLOATE CHIPS!

Adrien and Marinette instinctively put their hands over the ears, and as they watched in horror, they might have just saved their sanity. Thre eyes of the people surrounding them glew with red tint, and the same people that a moment ago scoffed at the picky woman, now shouted with her.

- WE WANT CHOCLOATE CHIPS!

The two shared a concerned look, and they frantically looked around, knowing full-well it was a work of an akuma. Adrien spotted him first, a bizarre, red-and-gold man flying in his throne above their heads. They gave each other a nod and ran as far away from the crowd.

- André, run, it's an akuma! - Marinette cried, but it was too late.

The kind man now was roaring with them, demanding his own ice cream booth to give him chocolate chips, smashing it with his bare hands. Adrien and Marinette hid in an alleyway, and as soon as they could catch breath, their Kwami escaped their pockets, ready to transform them.

Two bright flashes of light later, Ladybug and Chat Noir escaped the same alleyway, following new source of cries and shouts. Ladybug shoot her yo-yo to climb onto the nearest rooftop, while Chat accompanied her onto his magical baton that propelled him into the air, so they could level with Hawkmoth's new puppet.

- You there! - Marinette shouted, gaining his attention - What are you doing to these innocent people? - And whatever it is, we are here to stop you!

The akumatised man laughed and rolled in the air in his throne.

- I am the Echo Chamberlain, and I have done nothing to them! I merely gave them the same voice I have. How dare these ice cream makers don't have the perfect ice-cream I want!

He grabbed his megaphone and spoke into it, emitting once more a deafening cry that reverberated amongst the buildings.

- People of Paris! Throw away your chains! Go to the barricades! And demand the ice-cream you want! Ha-ha-ha!

At once, the people beneath them, scared and cowering, stood up and rushed to the shops, big and small alike, chanting the same familiar phrase for their now-beloved condiment.

- You fool! - a sudden voice rang in Anton's head - I gave you the voice so you can get me Ladybug's and Chat Noir's Miraculi! - Oh, right. - he took his megaphone again - But before that, get me Ladybug and Chat Noir! They took all the chocolate chips!

Echo Chamberlain flew onto his throne, leaving Ladybug and Chat Noir with the horde of people, that now began surrounding them with his single command. The two thought that they were safe on the rooftop of the building, but the angry people began climbing each other, forming human ladders, and in matter of seconds, the two had to escape in the same way they got there to begin with.

- He's using some sort of mind control! - Ladybug spoke, when they landed on slightly taller building, though they've already heard the clatter of broken glass beneath them. - The akuma must be in his megaphone. - Chat added - Also, I never thought people like chocolate chips so much. - I don't think they do. I think he likes it, and so he makes other people like the same thing.

Ladybug took a cautious look down, spotting some people rushing away from the angry mob.

- And I think he needs to target like-minded people. Or at least those that share some form of opinion with him... - she pondered. - Great observation, but may I add one? Duck!

Chat Noir pressed Ladybug's head down as a carton full of ice-cream cones flew right through the space once occupied by her head. The two rushed to their feet again, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, escaping the swarm of zombiefied people.

- Maybe there will be fewer of them here... - Chat spoke, but he was immediately proven wrong by a sudden voice behind him. - Oh, do you think ice-cream toppings is the only thing that makes people angry?

Echo Chamberlain arose from behind the building, already aiming his megaphone at the ventilation shaft.

- How about... Mobile chargers! Don't you hate how they always get lost and get tangled?

The powerful sound wave reverberated throughout the building, and the small rooftop door quaked when a small mob of residents rushed to the top, with said chargers in their hands, ready to strangle the two. Ladybug tried sniping a few of them with precise shots of her yo-yo, but the crowd was too dense.

- My lady!

Chat Noir grabbed her and propelled themselves off the building, landing in the vicinity of the same park they were meant to not-study in. But as they landed, they were already surrounded by more hypnotised civilians, this time complaining en-masse about mosquitoes.

- There's too many of them! - Ladybug shouted, jumping onto the nearby lamp post and then onto the tree. - I mean, they aren't exactly wrong, mosquitoes are horrible... - Chat! - Ladybug scolded him - That's the problem, he is making these people aware of all those small, insignificant problems of their lives. - But everyone has those!

Chat Noir's statement suddenly sounded ominously, as the sea of multicoloured people of every race, size and age surrounded them. Each person beneath them complained about something, creating a powerful choir of cacophony.

- We need... we need something to calm them down all at once...

Marinette looked around, and suddenly, as she spotted André's destroyed ice-cream stand, she saw the bell he would rang to alert Parisians of his presence, and a smile appeared on her face.

- I know what to do! - she cheered - Follow me!

The two escaped the tree just as if it was bout to be uprooted, and the two traversed the Paris to land on an even more familiar balcony.

- Don't peek, I'm gonna change my clothes. - she gave him a quick peck as she opened the hatch door to her apartment. - I'd never think of doing that. - Chat grinned, prepared his baton and jumped to the ground to defend the Dupain-Cheng bakery from the horde of people.

Once she was inside, Marinette quickly opened her supplies cabinet. Under the multitude of sewing accessories lied the hidden, oval-shaped red-and-black object that once looked like an ancient music box. The new guardian took it and gently tapped the black spots on the Miraculous Box, and under her touch, the small drawers began opening, one by one, like petals of a flower, revealing the multitude of Miraculi inside. Each of the intricate jewels glowed with a magical light of its own, as if to invite Marinette to try them, but she already knew which one to pick.

She took a small, circular Miraculous and spoke its Kwami name, illuminating her room with calming, white light, as the small, furry creature appeared in front of her.

- There's no time to explain, I need your help. Tikki, unify!

=====================

Meanwhile, Chat was getting more and more surrounded, forcing him to jump higher and higher, hoping the crowd would follow him and not Ladybug, trying his might to defend himself with his baton from the hypnotised masses, chanting their many inconsequential complaints that made them so strong.

- The prequels suck! - The sequels suck too! - Everything sucks!

As the mob was about to grab Chat, suddenly, he felt a familiar grip around his torso and his stomach did a somersault when he was dragged upwards, away from the crowd, as Ladybug reeled him on her yo-yo as if he was a fish.

- Thanks Ladybug, your timing is impecca-

Words got stuck in Adrien's mouth as he turned his head to meet his rescuer. At first, he wasn't sure it was Ladybug, but he recognised her yo-yo and her charming smile, though they were the only familiar element of her looks that remained. Only half of her original red could be found on her new costume, and the tidy, trademark polka-dots merged into black blots against white-brown rest of her costume. But it was the accessories she was wearing that truly befuddled Chat and forced him to pursue his curiosity, even if he was to be proverbially killed for it.

- My lady...! - Adrien stopped mid-way, taking another long look at Marinette - You... Your choice of fighting style is always impawssible to predict, but... Really, a cow? - What?

Marinette looked at herself, turning in place, as if to check if she's made a mistake choosing a Kwami to merge with, but once she ascertained herself, she shot him with a stern look.

- I'm not a cow. - she spoke quickly - The Kwami, whose powers I'm borrowing, is a yak! From Tibet! - Er, my lady - Chat raised his hands in defence, trying not to stare too long at the horns that adorned her head now - With all the respect, half of your costume is white with black spots, you have a ring in your nose, and you wear a cowbell around your neck... - IT'S NOT A COWBELL! - Marinette stomped in place - It's a Tibetan singing bowl, used for meditation. The Kwami told me so. - And what was its name?

With some hesitation, Marinette looked at Chat, whose lips curled into a sly smile, somehow foreseeing the answer and using every ounce of his intelligence to prepare a comeback.

- Lhamuu... - she whispered. - Lha...MOO - Chat articulated, his smug grin becoming unbearable to look at. - Oh, shut up! - Marinette yelled - We have an Akuma to defeat. - You're right, we should get mooving.

The superheroes nodded and jumped once more into the crowd of people under the super-villain's control, a plan already forming in their heads.

===========

- What's this?

In his observatory, Hawkmoth looked through his puppet's eyes at a sight he most certainly didn't expect.

- Ladybug... is a cow. - he muttered, unable to believe his borrowed sight. - Actually, it's a yak, you can tell by the horns, they are quite common in Asia and- - Never mind that! - Hawkmoth interrupted him - Ladybug has acquired a new power! That means she's wearing two Miraculi! Get them at once! - Is it "Miraculi" or "Miraculouses"? Or does this word even have plural form? - Anton pondered - I think there was a thread on Ladyblog about it, and- - THEY CAN BE CALLED "CROISSANTS" FOR WHAT I CARE, JUST GRAB THE JEWELS! - On it.

==========

Anton's throne flew closer to the two superheroes, who kept fighting the overwhelming crowd of people. Though banking on disappointment from recent block-busters wasn't unreasonable, he decided to play on even more delicate strings. He took his megaphone and spoke one word that electrified the masses and angered them all.

- Don't you just hate... CAPTCHA?... yes, it's because of Ladybug and Chat Noir you have to solve those stupid riddles, finding fire hydrants and whatnot! Destroy them!

At once, the mass of people acting, ironically, like radio-controlled robots, roared with pure hatred and began swarming towards them climbing onto balconies, just so they can get to them. Chat took a step backwards, knowing the crowd there was equally dense. But just as he was about to secure Ladybug, she did something utterly unpredictable.

With grace and skill only she possessed, SHE jumped off the rooftop, right into the horde of people, ready to tear her apart.

- My lady!

From the rooftop, Chat watched as Ladybug landed on the plaza, and let the crowd of people encircle and approach her from every side. And though he was afraid, he also had faith in her, strengthen only by her charming smile and a wink she sent him, while the shouting mob surrounded her.

- It's time to use... The Bell of Clarity!

Marinette touched the bowl affixed to her neck, enveloping herself in a delicate, yellow light, grabbed what looked like a ring in her nose and swiftly pulled it, revealing it to have two small balls on each side, and twirled around, ending with a stylish, victorious pose. With her new weapon in hands, she reached it, and gently stroke the bowl with the metallic ring, letting its vibration travel towards their target.

A powerful sound wave surrounded her, spreading in all directions, engulfing more and more of space, finally reaching the ears of the hypnotised people. When the note rang in their minds, they stopped, appearing confused and disoriented, as they suddenly lost the connection to their master's words.

- No, no, get them, you idiots! - Echo Chamberlain shouted through his megaphone.

Marinette stroke the bowl a second time, producing a more melodious tune. The crowd of like-minded zombies became even less coordinated, much to the supervillain's anger. And when she gently began moving the ornamented metal ring across the bowl's edge, instead of producing a single note, it began singing, its soothing melody finally dispelling the charm put on the people.

- No! You have to listen to me! I am right! - Anton took his megaphone and began speaking into it again - The games now suck! The-there are micro-transactions everywhere! The-the toilet paper! It's never turned the right way around! There is product placement in movies!

But no matter how many annoying details about life - or rather lack of it - he spoke of, the crowd remained calm and peaceful, unified with the sound of Ladybug's bell, that spread across the city each time she hit it.

And just when he was about to think of some new annoyance, something hit him from behind him, and when he turned around, he saw Chat Noir, wrestling with him, his baton already locking his arms from reaching his tool of control.

- It's time to dethrone your highness! Now, Ladybug!

At once, Ladybug shoot the yo-yo, grabbing the megaphone, while Chat and Echo Chamberlain wobbled in the air, each trying to overpower the other. But as soon as Ladybug got her hands onto his prized tool of control, it was over. She broke it in half, releasing the purple akuma, she then gracefully caught with the same yo-yo.

- By bye, little butterfly... - she spoke to the purified Akuma, watching it, as it flew away. - Miraculous Ladybug!

A storm of light, radiating from her engulfed the city, repairing the damages caused by the entitled mobs. As for the Echo Chamberlain, he found himself in his regular, not-levitating chair, and only thanks to Chat Noir's strength he didn't hit the ground.

- I believe it was yours. - Ladybug handed him the headset. - Y-yeah... - Anton stuttered. - Uh, Ladybug, I... - That's okay, Anton. - she spoke calmly - We all get upset sometimes, and we all think we have all the answers. - But maybe it's better to walk outside every once in a while, and, say, have some ice cream? Regardless of toppings? - Chat Noir added, giving him equally warm smile. - Y-yeah...

The two watched as the man waddled away, pondering what his behaviour has done. Ladybug and Chat Noir looked at each other and bumped their fist with a cheerful "Pound it!".

- So, the Bell of Clarity, eh? - Chat Noir leaned against the wall, watching as his partner affixes her new accessory once more to her collar. - Jealous of my new toy, kitty? - Ladybug shot him with a mischievous grin - It has quite powerful properties, I should tell you about that some time, since I've been studying all the Kwamis and... - Nah, I was just pondering the name...

Marinette eyed him suspiciously, noticing the familiar smirk appearing on his face, about to turn into a full, unashamed grin, but when she did that, it was too late, as words already left his mouth.

- It's "Bell of Clarity"...or Clara-bell, if you will.

The Tibetan singing bowl made one last, long, pronounced note as Marinette struck Chat's head with it, putting an end to his jokes and another successful mission.

===========================

Another tune, this one of pure sorrow filled the air, as Hawkmoth roared in anger, his voice echoing in his evil lair atop the Agreste mansion.

- Preposterous! I have been defeated by a superheroine dressed like a cow! - I think she was a yak, Gabriel. - Nathalie added - SHE HAD A RING IN HER NOSE! - he yelled, slamming his fists against the floor, as he collapsed onto his knees - I HAVE A HEADACHE!

==================

Far away from Hawkmoth's prying eyes, as well as many security cameras they've learned to evade, two superheroes were celebrating another victory in a way that became almost a tradition for them. There was a time when Marinette would be utterly shocked at the mere thought of kissing in public, let alone exposing herself there, but the years of serving as a protector of Paris has changed her mind. At some point, she started treating entirety of Paris as her home, with every dark alleyway and rows of chimney that hid them from the rest of the world, and with that notion came the desire to express herself and her love in the open air. And it certainly helped that her boyfriend was a horny tomcat.

Though she would have preferred if Chat pushed her against her soft bed, she didn't mind the cold, sturdy surface of a building they were kissing against. With his relentless, but delicate caresses, there was no place on Earth where they wouldn't be feeling comfortable, and something told her she would be soon melting in his arms or underneath his body.

And Chat was especially meticulous today, as he wanted to make sure that he'd cover every millimetre of her new costume and find out if her new alter-ego changed something with her preferences regarding making love.

- Chat... - Marinette moaned and curled her toes, tightening her legs' grip around his body. - I've had you as a Ladybug...

Chat pressed her against the wall, his hand already on her crotch, and his fingers dug through the latex costume that parted underneath his gentle, yet steady caresses.

- ...then as a mouse...

She let out a short squeak, almost mimicking her timid, Multimouse persona, as he continued undressing her using his claws and teeth.

- Then as a Rena Rouge... do you remember that? - How-How could I forget? - Marinette gasped, her hands sliding up and down his slim, but muscular body - Especially since Alya was filming us...

Chat let out a deep purr of approval, letting his lips and tongue take action, as he leaned against the skin on her neck. And while he was busy peppering her skin with kisses, Marinette decided to continue diving into their memories, perhaps just so she won't have to moan in anticipation of her lover's next, carefully planned move.

- And-And do you remember when Mister Bug used Lady Noire's face? I've never thought he would be so rough... - Mhm, most certainly... - Chat purred, nibbling on her ear, both actions making Marinette's skin shiver - Turned out white goes very well with your the black mask... And, well, rest of the costume too... - Naughty kitten... - And now, I'm gonna be with you as a... - Chat paused, looking up at his lover - ...a yak. - It's fine, you can say I'm a cow. - Marinette rolled her eyes, leaning in for a kiss. - And how should I call you? - Figured you would kiss first and ask names second...

She spoke those words in somewhat croaky voice, after Chat's kiss successfully left her breathless. She tightened her grip on him and looked him in the eye, seeing the familiar, fiery spark of lust that could lead them on a predictable route.

- Yin Yak - she answered - That's the name of that-that superheroine... - Marinette paused, trying to silence herself from another surge of pleasure building up in her loins. - So, would you be Lady-yak? - Chat kissed her breasts through her costume, yearning to feel her costume splitting apart - Or Yin-bug? I have to say, I am purrplexed and confused...

Marinette cupped his face and brought his face millimetres away from hers, just so her next words could firmly root themselves into his mind.

- I will tell you how I want to be called. - she paused and without losing a bit answered - Yours.

With her words acting like a spell, Chat Noir smiled and in a single move tossed her into the air, and caught her with his arms again, letting her legs spread. And as he did so, a rip in her costume appeared, under Chat's most delicate of touches, as a final proof of Marinette's consent and her yearning for her lover. Marinette yelped when his fingers brushed the now-exposed skin underneath her partially-torn costume. In response, she yanked his bell and slid it down, finally laying her eyes on his naked, alluring body.

- It's so much easier for you... - Are you complaining about an incredibly minor inconvenience? - Chat paused - Be careful, or you're gonna get akumatised too...

They giggled and closed their eyes, preparing for a kiss, but as their lips were about to meet, Chat found that something began pushing them away. And when the two looked down, they couldn't help but gasp at the sudden development happening right in front of them.

- What the-?!

Both Adrien and Marinette stared at her chest, or more precisely, her breasts that sprung from beneath her costume, ripping it completely and showing properly how enlarged they've become. And neither of them could tell which one was more surprised of the sight that greeted them. Her usually perky, medium-sized breasts now felt like two balloons that became inflated the moment Chat parted the way of her costume, though despite their size they seemed to defy laws of physics, never truly succumbing to gravity. As if in disbelief, Chat gently cupped them, and only under his touch, Marinette could feel how much they have grown, and that they were in fact still parts of her caresses-starved body.

- They-they are huge! - Marinette gasped, stating the obvious. - Indeed they are... - Adrien licked his lips - I have to admit, I am enjoying your new superhero form more and more...

Marinette gasped when she felt Chat's breath around her nipple, even more sensitive than usual, as his lips closed around the nub, a lot bigger and more pronounced now. And while his tongue lapped around her areola, his left hand caressed her other breast, exploring the new, vast territory he was going to conquer.

As Marinette whimpered under Chat's caresses, he moved from left side of her enlarged bosom to the other, finally taking a dive between them, licking the alluring valley between the voluptuous,breasts on both sides of his face. He looked up, meeting Ladybug's widened eyes, seeing the mixture of pleasure and lingering shock in them. He gave her one final kiss, and asked sheepishly.

- My lady, I'm not doing anything wrong, am I? - Can you hear me complain? - Marinette smirked - I have no idea what happened, but keep your mouth busy, kitty.

She gently pushed his head back between her huge bosom that almost engulfed Chat's head. Suddenly, she felt his kisses everywhere across her sensitive skin, causing her to moan without any care. They were still hidden, at least partially, since she fully expected her breasts might now expand like a portable raft and take the entire space of the rooftop.

Of course, she knew why this happened. Though Chat was joking, her Kwami certainly had a few bovine traits, and her arousal must have accentuated those even more, just like Chat's claws could tear through her otherwise indestructible suit as if it was papier-mâché when his animalistic needs got over him.

As her kisses became more and more ravenous, her legs slowly gave up, and that gave Chat a chance to sneak his arms underneath her back and raise her leg up, just so his access to her dripping sex could be easier. With her left leg on his shoulder, his fingers continued the delicate dance against her pussy, while his tongue lapped at the skin around her nipples.

- Cha-Chat!

Marinette threw her head back, hoping her lover would bring her to her climax soon, and when Chat closed his lips around her nipple once more, just to contain his scream, she felt something new. An exhilarating, electrifying surge rushed through her, and at the same moment as Chat's eyes opened wide, while his fingering slowed down, though with his new discovery, she didn't exactly blame him.

Once he understood what was happening, Chat smiled and doubled his efforts, suckling on her teat, just so he could taste the delicious, sweet milk she began producing.

- My lady, you are... full of surprises... - he spoke, once he took a healthy gulp of her essence, watching as it dripped onto her large breasts.

To her bewilderment, when Chat brought his lips back to her nipple and continued suckling her milk, she felt the pleasure rising again, and with the newly found source of enjoyment, Marinette realised she couldn't think straight, especially when Chat resumed the moves of his hand again, spreading her folds.

But this time, as his muscular body came in contact with hers, it became obvious he was eager for more than simple finger play. He moved his hips in tune of her moans, sliding his exposed cock along her folds, eager to her her begging. And sure enough, once his name left her lips, he dived between her wet, soaking folds, just like his head dived into the valley of her breasts, equally leaking from anticipation.

Marinette let out another prolonged moan. Chat often made love to her this way, pressing her against walls, often just meters away from busy streets, but never before has her body changed. And now, to each of Chat's thrusts, her enlarged breasts reacted accordingly, bouncing up and down around Chat's face, though every once in a while her lover's thirst for her milk caused one of her mounds - or rather mountains - to remain in place, while he feasted on the liquid ambrosia she kept producing.

Adrien thought that he might have harder time keeping his lover up, and bouncing her with the extra baggage, but it turned out that the opposite was true. She felt lighter, giving him chance to exert a bit more pressure and dominance over his lover, much to her enjoyment. Ladybug dug her fingernails into Chat's shoulders, pushing him against the cushions of her bosom, letting his entire face stimulate her much larger and more sensitive area.

With each kiss Chat placed around her nipples came another deep thrust, reaching further and further into her yearning sex that coated his cock with her juices, only helping his cause of sliding as far as possible. And with that storm of sensation, it came as no surprise to Marinette that her mind slowly started going blank, and she began chanting Chat's name like a mantra, begging him to help her reach the peak he promised her, hearing only his grunts in return.

Their shared orgasm made their joined bodies shudder; at the same time, walls of Marinette's pussy contracted, desperate to contain Chat inside her, coating his crotch with more and more of her juices; then the torrential jets of his warm seed shot up her sex, right against her womb, filling her to the brim. And then, just when she thought she was finished, she felt a new form of warmth on her chest, when milk began spurted from her breasts, though the stream quickly found its way to Chat's mouth.

With each of Chat's final, weakening thrusts, the effects began anew, forcing her lover to switch suckling on her nipples, thirsty for her nectar, as if to use it to replenish his essence he kept flooding her with. But as their juices were leaking out, so was their strength, and even Chat's muscles had to give up at some point.

The two collapsed on the rooftop, still hidden by the shadows of the construction scaffolding, though at this point, Marinette truly didn't care if their love making has been heard, or observed by anyone; with her enormous breasts people might think it's some sort of stunt anyway. Her lips found Chat's and she tasted a new flavour, a sweet one that sent shivers down her spine, when she realised what it was, and she understood at once why Chat was so desperate to milk her.

The same flurry of kisses that drove her to her peak didn't stop, as Chat made sure to pepper her breasts with as many of those as possible, at the same time giving her ample time to recover from her equally explosive orgasm.

And as her mind, hazed by pleasure, slowly returned to reality, a new plan formed in her head, and with a quick, but difficult to pull off maneuver - a drawback of the new addition to her body - she rolled and pinned Chat to the ground, much to his surprise.

- My lady?

Chat's ears perked up when he saw her move along his naked body, leaving a trail of kisses as well as her milk along it. And when she reached her destination, she shot him with a mischievous, sly smirk that would have turn his legs to jelly if he wasn't downed already.

Her delicate fingers closed around his half-lips cock, bringing his sensitive tip to her mouth, and as her lips brushed his skin, it twitched satisfyingly in her hand, signalling he was ready again.

- You just lay there, kitty, and let me take care of you...

Marinette's soft, velvety voice, spiked with just a trace of lust worked its magic on Chat right away. Though Marinette might have been surprised by the sudden changes to her body, the superheroine adapted to them at once and decided to put them to good use. Her voluptuous, wobbly breasts engulfed Chat's hard cock, as Marinette proceeded to give her first tit-job of her life, given that now she had proper equipment for it.

As Chat got lost in her ample bosom, he threw his head back, filling the air around them with low purr of delight, followed by prolonged moan when Ladybug's mouth met with his cock's head upon her first bob. it was equally fascinating for Marinette to watch as Chat's length is enveloped by her breasts, and how she can now stimulate far more of him than when her mounds were small an perky.

She had to keep an eye on his legs that twitched with every few seconds in response to her caresses. Chat's claws closed around the nearest edges, after frantically trying to find one to push away his oncoming climax, and his slim, but muscular torso arched from time to time, in sync with Marinette pushing her massive breasts up and down.

To make things a bit varied, she slowed down her moves, replacing them with a bit of her tongue-work, much to Chat's delight. Marinette could distinguish her name being muttered by her lover, begging her to finish her love torture, but the superheroine had none of that. While she was certain Chat would love nothing more than jump to his knees and face-fuck her, she wanted to prolong his pleasure as much as she could, knowing full well of the building and boiling climax in his loins.

As her tongue ran around his head, Marinette had to steer away to taste her own body, still covered with traces of milk she was leaking, and when the same tongue returned to his tool, Chat moaned again, feeling the liquid she was mixing with his pre-cum, almost as if he could taste it again. Once more he was privileged to see how the once-shy superheroine pushed her limit of perversion with a kink neither of them expected to enjoy an hour earlier.

And it was that knowledge (combined with her dedication to bring Chat to climax, as she started bobbing her breasts up and down again), that drove Chat to his edge, turning his moans incomprehensible begging only Marinette could understand and reply to. She waited until Chat's eyes would meet her again, and spoke to him taking breaks from kissing his swollen tip ready to burst.

- You, kitty - she started - You like my milk... But I...

She pressed her hands against her breasts, wanting to completely envelop Chat's cock between her massive breasts.

- ...I prefer cream.

A loud, yet weak cry of defeat escaped Chat's lips at the same time as first rope of cum flew from his swollen tip, landing straight across Ladybug's face, forcing her to close her eyes momentarily, though she opened them a second later, just so she can marvel at Chat's virility.

Just as second rope of cum was about to decorate her face, Marinette opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue, inviting Chat to change his aim, though with his cock still engulfed by her breasts, she was much in control of the trajectory, and with some difficulties, she has managed to fill her mouth with the thick, sticky seed, getting the first sniff of the pungent and aggressive, but alluring taste and smell of her lover.

Three more streams of his cum landed in Marinette's lips, before her treatment has emptied Chat's balls, and the heroine could swallow the veritable pool of Chat's cream sitting in her mouth. She did it without breaking the eye contact with him, making sure he'd hear the guttural, gulping noises as his essence travelled down her throat, his warmth, taste and smell lingering far longer thanks to its consistency. He must have been saving for days...

But that wasn't complete end of Chat's climax; long after he stopped supplying Marinette with his seed, he withdrew from between the heavenly trap of her breasts, and another strands of his seed adorned them, prompting Marinette to perform action she wasn't able before, due to how much bigger and more supple her breasts have become. She pushed her breasts just up enough so she can lick off each and every drop of cum Chat left, as if it was the most delicious meal she wouldn't let go to waste. And the sight of expression on Chat's face was a reward already, aside of the familiar, musky aftertaste that reminded Marinette who has just marked her as his. Not to mention that as she squeezed her breast, Chat's essence mixed with her milk, adding a new taste of sweetness to his salty one.

Marinette revelled in the overwhelming storm of tastes that filled her mouth, and that indulgence gave Chat opportunity to counter-attack. Though he was pressed to the ground by her body and her breasts that now were a significant part of it, the superhero easily rolled her to her back, his head already back between her mounds, licking the milk that has managed to leak during his climax.

- I'd say that's a tie, my lady. - Of course you'd say that. - Marinette chuckled - You just want to get comfy and drink milk, and I just happen to have what you need...

In response, Chat let out a soft purr, as he nuzzled himself into Marinette's breasts, never taking eyes from his lover. Marinette reached and toyed with his untidy golden hair, and her charming smile managed to lure him from between her breasts for another long-needed kiss.

And just when she thought she would be given some time to relax, Chat Noir yanked her legs upwards, pressing them against her body, trapping her enlarged breasts between them, squishing them even more, which made them appear even larger.

- Sorry, Ladybug, but you are just too appetising to not ravish...

Marinette yelped when Chat's hard cock entered her again, and she felt Chat's delicious weight on top of her. She knew her new form would drag a very primal string in his masculine mind, and she did not object when he jumped to his feet and pushed her into a mating press, ready to engage in deeply animalistic form of love making.

His hips worked twice as hard than previously, wanting to reach as far into her throbbing, needy sex as possible, and while he was leaning over her, he was given once more chance to taste her delicious milk, each time he plunged himself inside her.

Ladybug's legs dangled above their heads, in sync of his ravenous thrusts, and as Marinette met his eyes, she had no doubts what drove him into his frenzied state. She knew that her kwami chose to make her look like a perfect mating partner, and that Chat was making sure there was enough milk for his kittens...

Their frantic bucking lasted shorter than they expected, but the same, wild thought they shared pushed them over the edge at the same time. Chat grabbed her thick thighs, buried his face between her breasts that erupted with milk, and in turn flooded her once more with his virile seed, bringing their shared fantasy to completion.

Chat collapsed on top of her, landing his head across Laybug's vast breasts, once more basking in their sweet glory. When their lips met again, they could both taste it, and the two lovers fell into a tight embrace.

The two were blissfully unaware that in the mean time the sun has gone down, but that only meant there will be less light for onlookers to catch them.

=====================

Standing by the kitchen counter, Marinette concentrated on making another batch of freshly baked sweets, so then they can be ready in an hour or so when the bakery opens. It was the quiet before the storm, but Marinette enjoyed those early morning hours... especially when she had someone to help her.

Adrien sneaked up behind his girlfriend, peppering her exposed neck with kisses, while his hands gently travelled up and down her waist, though once he saw what she's been making this whole time, his caresses stopped,and he let out a satisfying purr. On the counter lay several, hemispherical pastries, glazed in white marzipan, each adorned with a candied cherry on top, and the longer Adrien stared at them, the more he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

- Well, our adventure has certainly given you some inspiration, Marinette. Your original design? - I wish. - Marinette snickered - Those are called Saint Agatha's breasts, it's an old, Italian treat.

She handed him one, watching as his fingers dance on the shiny surface.

- It does remind me of what happened yesterday, though... - Adrien smiled, before taking a bite of the sugary coating. - I might have double-glazed them just like you did me.

Marinette brought her finger to his mouth to collect a small crumble of marzipan stuck to his lips, and predictably, her boyfriend wasn't just ravenous for sweets, as he quickly licked her finger clean too.

- Adrien! - Marinette pulled back and rushed to the sink - Warn me next time... - Okay, here's a warning..

Adrien chuckled, closing his arms around her belly once more. He sneaked his mouth to her neck, while his arms separated, each travelling closely to one of her erogenous zones. His left hand dived underneath her apron and tried getting into her panties, while the right one caressed her perky breasts, and as soon as his fingers began toying around her nipples, Marinette addressed something that has been on her mind.

- You miss them, don't you? - You know that I love you exactly the way you are... - Adrien answered tactfully - Don't lie, kitty - Marinette interrupted him. - You are, alas, only a man, therefore, I know you liked when my rack was three times the size of my current one. - Fine, if you want to, then I will say it - he kissed her neck - But just because I had more of you to love. Is it okay if I admit that I do slightly miss them? - If you'll keep finishing inside me, like yesterday, then I can assure you, you'll get them back very soon...

Marinette yelped, when his hands travelled back to her hips and spun her around in place, but once she met his face, she closed her arms behind his neck without missing a beat, just in time for his comeback.

- Is that a warning, or an invitation?

Adrien raised his brow, watching as her face reddened.

- Tell you what, I'm gonna finish in five minutes, and we might find out. - If you'll wear this apron then I will finish in five minutes... - Adrien!

#miraculust #mlnsfw #ladynoir #adrinette #lemon #nautiscaraderfics

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bomberqueen17 · 4 years ago

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firefox and i am a grouch

Well, I went back to Firefox. I’d been a big mozilla/firefox user back on Windows but I got a Mac starting in like, ‘04, and we didn’t know any better back then and Safari seemed fine and Chrome harmless because Google’s motto used to be “Don’t be evil” and anyway. Been on Chrome for like a decade now and it crashes every time I leave my computer plugged in more than three hours, and so when I woke up this morning to it crashed again I was like, fuckit. I’ll switch back to Firefox.

But of course, that means I lose whatever tabs I’ve got open. So there were a bunch of AO3 comments open I was going to reply to, and some DW entries with comments I was gonna reply to from like, months ago probably, and I also had a pile of tabs about research for various novels I haven’t worked on in uhhhhh longer than I care to admit, and anyway.

Firefox seems fine but so far it has totally failed to let me use a verification code to log in-- it said “invalid parameter: state” when I entered it, and then the only option was to send the same exact code again to me. So I closed the window, and went to the login window and it let me log in just fine without any kind of code, so uhhh I guess that’s a whole sham. Then immediately it was like “let us text a link to Firefox to your phone!” so I was like ok sure and typed in my phone number, and it was like “ta-da, we sent it!” No, you did not. I re-checked the number, and it was correct, so I hit the “resend” button and the exact same absolutely nothing happened, so. I’ve given up on that. It’s dumb anyway, you could just go to the app store and download it, having the direct link isn’t even useful, and I’d say that was just them getting your phone number to sell except it’s sort of their whole gig that they don’t so now IDK what that’s for.

I installed Facebook Container while I was setting shit up, because I do not have the discipline to log out myself. I just don’t use Facebook on any device but this one-- it’s never been logged in on my phone. It’s not that I think Facebook is going to like, have me murdered or whatever. It’s just that my data is worth money and I don’t want them to have it, since they’re not going to compensate me. Like, fuck ‘em and fuck their advertisers. I realize it’s futile to resist since i use Instagram so much and Facebook owns them, they’re still getting their money’s worth and more out of my data, but at least FB itself won’t have me. Whatever.

Anyhow. Tumblr doesn’t work in either browser; my workaround for getting to the old dash from the activity page stopped functioning yesterday. It makes my computer run like a jet engine, to use the new dash, and no images load, so I’m probably going to unfollow a lot of you who post huge image-heavy posts that don’t load and also freeze up so I can’t scroll past. No hard feelings, but some of y’all I only have one fandom in common with and I can’t just blacklist every other fandom you like... especially since y’all don’t often tag the gifsets with what fandom they’re from, so it’s not like i even know. Anyway, what used to just be a normal part of Tumblr is now like, an unsurvivable obstacle to using the site, so. Bummer.

(cut text= in which I am just cranky about shit)

(Yes, my Blacklist is fucking huge-- I blocked the phrase “Doctor Who” within five seconds of joining this site, believe me, and I have never once looked back, and fucking Buffy was number two, no thank you, and I still see SO MUCH content from both because y’all don’t tag shit, and Blacklist never slowed my dash down before but apparently it does now. So either the site is unusably clogged with content I am so sick of I can’t bear to look at, OR the site is unusably slow... I don’t really see a choice there, I’d rather never log in again than see that much fucking Doctor Who shit, I get that y’all love it but please keep that shit far away from me. Here’s my filthy, cranky secret: I fucking hate basically every fandom. I watch maybe a show a year, I couldn’t even get through the Untamed because I’d already watched the Witcher, see? I can’t watch that much TV. Can’t do it. I’m stuck on episode 30 and read all the spoilers and I’ll maybe watch the last 20 episodes in the winter or something. I just can’t do it. And yeah, y’all, I am on the verge of blocking Leverage, because I haven’t gotten to it yet and I have seen so many fucking posts about it I’m sick of it before I ever got to. Let me know if the reboot/sequel is any good no don’t do that, I’ll surely see eight hundred thousand posts about it on my own, and once that’s all out I’ll decide if I have room to watch it. Oh my God I don’t like watching things. No, not that thing either. I don’t care how much you like it, it isn’t about that, it’s about how I don’t watch TV and about the inside of my own brain, and nobody’s going to be able to talk me out of that, once in a while I can get it to cooperate and then I’ll watch a thing, but it’s fleeting and that’s all I got. It averages out to two miniseries *or* three movies per year, about, though there are years when I’ve not managed even that much.) (I’m going to watch a cheesy 80s movie on Saturday night for social reasons and I hope that doesn’t count because I was hoping to get to watch The Old Guard at some point and I’d hate to find I was tapped out before I got to see it, because I’m gonna get fucking sick of it if I can’t get it to Thing I Care About status in my head pretty soon.)

Oh holy shit, Firefox, we are just gonna go uncheck the “check spelling as you type” option because you can’t fucking spell, holy shit. “Unsurvivable” is a word, I just looked it up, as is “unusably”, those are words, leave me the fuck alone. Fuck, so is gifset. Christ.

So, yeah, I’m feeling traumatized because my eighty or 100 or whatever tabs are all gone, but I wasn’t using them and I wasn’t seeing them anymore anyway so it’s best to have a clean start, but I’m upset and that’s not how I function, so. Anyhow. Sorry to be grouchy, y’all can love what you love, but for the love of GOD will you please fucking tag your gifsets with the fandom, sometimes I see shit I’m even intrigued by but since there’s no tag there’s literally no way for me to ever find out what it was. But let’s be honest. I wasn’t intrigued. I don’t watch stuff.

#about the author #cranky

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remromfantasies · 4 years ago

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The Five Times Remus Felt Unloved And The One Time He Was Reminded - RemRom fic!

Summary: Remus is upset that his crush doesn’t like him back, but maybe he can still be happy about what they already have.

Warnings: Depression, one-way feelings, self-doubt, ooh honey the angst, but! It is hurt/comfort... I think.... 🤔

Words: 1.3k

Remus sat beside Roman for lunch. They were supposed to be working on their homework, but Roman had gotten preoccupied with their other friends.

Patton and Virgil had leaned over his computer screen to see what he was doing. Roman smiled and bounced in his seat as he boasted about his online boyfriend. The two of them had met months ago and about half of that was when they got together.

Yes, Roman was very aware of Remus’ emotional feelings towards him, yet it seemed as if he either forgot entirely or that he just didn’t care. Roman had offered to try it, but felt uncomfortable the whole time, therefore breaking up within a matter of weeks. Remus acknowledged the burning in his chest, but didn’t dwell on it. He knew it was pointless and that he was lucky to have even gotten as far as they had. He stared at his papers, but couldn’t read the words. He barely saw how far away they were.

“OH MY GOSH, you guys have to see him! He is the hottest person ever!!” Roman boasted, scrolling through their messaging. Remus’ heart rate stopped momentarily. How he wished he could drown it out and forget what they were talking about. Although, Remus couldn’t help but look at the picture on screen.

Remy was a good looking man. His eyes sparkled, his smile shone, and he had freckles, which was always a bonus to Roman. He was everything Remus felt he wasn’t. His eyes were bland, his smile was stupid, and he didn’t have freckles. He was also the one person parents would warn their children about: he was creepy and made crude jokes and he didn’t wear deodorant.

Maybe if he had told Roman just a little more often that he loved him, things could be different. But instead, Remus was selfish and was now forced to sit here and stare at what he could never be, and what he could never have.

“And look! He called me his ‘hummingbird’!!”

———

“Hey, Remus?” Roman asked, leaning towards his brother. Remus took his eyes off his work and faced him. “Are you staying home tonight? We’re having pizza!” Remus, always willing to jump at an opportunity to spend time with Roman, was quick to agree. Virgil might call him clingy, but the relationship that he has with Logan is even worse than his own. He couldn’t complain.

The two walked back to their house after school, engaging in plenty of conversation. Not once did they fail to bring up an interesting topic. Remus, even though he so badly wanted to reach out and hold tight to his crush, smiled and spoke, embracing everything in that moment that he could.

Although, as they came up to their place, of course things would change.

“Oh! Remy sent me an idea for one of his projects. It was really good! My poor boy, though, he’s so self-conscious: you’d never expect it from such a play-it-cool kinda guy! He was really nervous about it, even with me.” Remus clenched his jaw, but refused to look upset. Had Roman maybe paid closer attention to him, he’d notice that he was even more self-conscious than this dude, and no, he didn’t really show it either, but sometimes it just slips out! He had always wanted to tell Roman about things he had created. But first it was Roman who had outshone him. And now, it’s Remy.

Apparently, Remy is always creating. He makes a different variety of content and posts it all over the internet. What does he have to be so self-conscious about? He’s practically famous!

He knew that Roman at least somewhat appreciated his jokes. Roman loved to laugh, even if it was just to appease someone, he’d be happy to venture on the edge. But something told him that Roman didn’t really want to and that he liked doing other things more, like learning or crafting. The last thing he’d want to do would be to bring him down.

No one wants a sad Roman.

So, Remus powered through. He listened to Roman ramble about his feelings for his boyfriend, put in constructive input where needed and paid close enough attention to understand just how much they seemed to love each other. Any time he felt overwhelmed during his stay, he would claim to use the washroom and take the time to help recover.

———

Remus came up to where Roman was waiting on their usual bench. He was sitting on his phone, scrolling. Remus took a glance to see what had caught his interest, only to notice the bombardment of hearts beneath the name “Remy Sanders”. His heart throbbed as he took a seat.

“Hey, Remus!” Roman greeted. “You’ll never guess what Remy sent me!”

•

Remus felt movement on his right and glanced at Roman. They were midway through the class and halfway done their work. Roman pulled his phone from his pocket. Remus watched, expecting him to check the time, yet he continued to roam through his apps. Once he found his messaging, he opened it and clicked on the first name to pop up. It said, of course, “Remy Sanders” with three hearts on either side of his name. Patton stared at the screen for a second before pocketing his phone again.

Did he really go to their chat just to see his name or something? What was the point? He’d feel a vibration if he had a message and he’s already read the other ones written. Did he miss Remy that much already..?

•

Roman was scrolling through tumblr, showing Remus a bunch of cute pictures on his dash. He scrolled past them rather quickly, having seen them all before, and said things simply, like ‘oh, look at this one”, “this ones so funny”, “oh, I nearly forgot about this one”. Remus smiled along as Roman showed him the things he adored.

However, that same ache in his chest pounded at his ribs as the next one was one from Remy.

“Oh! Look, this is Remy’s!” No, duh. “He reblogged this last night. Look at the sweet messages he left! Isn’t he such an angel??” Remus agreed, nodding and humming contentment. His expression collapsed the moment Roman turned away and Remus worked to decide if he was angry or depressed.

———

Remus sat silently, scrolling through Tinder on his phone. Roman was talking with their friends about random things, things he could care less about. It was when a heavy weight plopped itself down onto his knees that Remus startled, his eyes shooting away from his screen.

“Reeeeemuuuuus,” Roman whined, sprawling out. Logan Remus and shut off his device, looking down smugly at his crush.

“Yes, Roman?”

“Hi.” Remus let out a scoff. He was almost as goofy as Patton sometimes.

“Can I help you with something?” Roman smiled a toothy grin and rolled onto his tummy, his side pressing against Remus’ stomach.

“Nope! Just saying ‘hi’.” Remus smiled a little wider and gently rested his hands on Roman’s back. He relaxed at the simple touch and stared down longingly at Roman. Times like these were what he lived for. Even though Roman did it because he was a touchy-feely kind of person, it still made Remus’ heart beat faster.

Roman remained across his legs for the remainder of their time, scrolling through his messages with Remy. Remus almost didn’t care. Sure, every other time made him feel entirely worthless and pointless to this man's life, but when Roman showed that he didn’t forget about him, he couldn’t help but feel that it was still, somehow, enough. He’d take anything he could get without crossing boundaries.

However, he’d never tell Roman that. Roman was so, so happy with Remy and if Remus was to ruin that even the slightest — whether that be showing his vulnerability to the situation, proving his true feelings instead of pushing them so far down, or just admitting that he was a little jealous, Remus would never, ever forgive himself. For no matter what Roman chose in his life, he’d give everything he had and more to keep him happy. He’ll do what it takes. Roman taught him that.

#sanders sides #remus sanders #roman sanders #remrom #remrom mention #my fic #my writing #might reblog in the morning #might delete it too tho #we shall see #my good bitch #:)

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iraacundus · 5 years ago

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STEALING

doyoung x reader - ceo!au

he had nothing to gain from stealing the snowman, he just wanted to feel totally alive, a feeling he didn’t get much anymore, he didn’t expect his employee to catch him

words: 5.7k

based on this poem i read in school (back when we had that whoo) - ‘stealing’ by carol ann duffy’

“Mostly i’m so bored i could eat myself”

----

It was two am and a cold as hell January morning. You had been lying for hours, trying to sleep but there was a storm outside. It wasn’t that you were scared of storms particularly, just that the wind was blowing so fiercely it would have unsettled the bravest of souls.

It was two twenty-six am when the blizzard finally stopped, the calm in the storm. It was the quiet that was unsettling now, you still couldn’t sleep. After tossing from side to side you decided to peak and see what damage the storm had done to the garden outside. You tugged part of your blinds apart ever so slightly and stared into the street where the snow looked perfect somehow. The blizzard had covered the footprints of anyone who had previously walked by. It had made the snowman that the kid from next door had made look just that little bit fatter, which was a comforting sight.

Your eyes snapped open once again at eight forty-six am, even though you were not quite sure when they had shut. You stood up and went to look out of your blinds again. You opened them mindlessly only to be taken aback. The slightly fatter snowman that had been there only hours before had disappeared. There was no sign of melting, it was much too cold, it just ceased to exist in the location it once had. Only a track in the snow was left. The only explanation that came to your mind was that someone had dragged the snowman away. You thought this to be a particularly strange occurrence. Because it was a strange occurrence. Somehow it didn’t stay in your brain long enough for you to care though.

You trudged through the snow in your boots all the way to the underground train station. The storm had been loud but there still wasn’t enough snow to merit a day off from work. Your headphones blared music loudly enough to drown out the sounds of the world around you so that when you took a seat down on the train you failed to notice the snowman thief, partly because he didn’t look like one. Mostly because you didn’t know what a snowman thief looked like. Partly because in real life people like him didn’t frequent trains. But one-hundred percent because you hadn’t seen the theft so how would you have known.

Work was work it dragged by, meeting after meeting. The only excitement in your day was when CEO Kim came to give you the sales files personally. He had never spoken a word to you on a non-work issue and he always had a sort of forced smile upon his face. Yet you still had the most massive crush on him. He was undeniably one of the best looking people you had ever seen... but that wasn't it. It wasn’t what drew you to him. He just did everything so carefully, like his life was controlled and like he had a purpose. It sounded strange but you just were enthralled by Doyoung’s sense of purpose. Maybe it was because it was something you had never had yourself.

“The spending needs to go down, current marketing costs are just unsustainable,” Doyoung summed up for you. You nodded, thanking him for the papers. You just had to make the full report and then, as always, you could leave for the day. But it turned out the marketing problem was huge, just as Mr Kim had said and by the time you had made it home it was ten forty-one pm. The kids from your apartment building had made a few new snowmen. Three to be exact. One was fat and short, the other tall and wobbly and the third seemed almost perfect. The smoothness of the snow all balled up was almost mesmerising to look at - so satisfying. However, you didn’t stop to gaze for long. It was just a snowman after all.

By the time you had made coffee, eaten what little leftovers you could find and showered it was nearing midnight. You took one last peek out your blinds to check there wasn’t another storm coming. You never trusted just the weather app. When you gazed out you saw no signs of a storm in the freezing air, however, there did seem to be a man in front of your house wearing a blue bobble hat. And that man did appear to be dragging the perfect one of the three snowmen towards the street.

You pulled harshly on your blind cable, pulling them upwards, allowing you to press the button and swing your window open to get a better look. You stuck your head out but you still couldn’t quite see the mans face. Fortunately, due to the fact he was lugging a large snowman, you reckoned his pace wasn't that quick. This allowed you time to throw a coat and wellies on before running down the back staircase and out of the front door almost tripping over your own feet. You hadn't cared much about the snowman before, but now witnessing the theft you felt oddly aggrieved by it.

You hurtled over to the man and stopped right in front of where he had taken a pause to check his phone for the time. This slight pause meant he had missed your headlong dash across the pristine white lawn.

“What the actual fuck are you doing?” you asked him not so politely, you didn’t take kindly to people who stole from children, even if it was just snow you had decided. You crossed your arms and made your best attempt at a reproachful look. One that the guy didn't even see.

“I’m taking this snowman,’ the guy replied without even looking up from behind the stolen object. He said it as if stealing a snowman at midnight was a perfectly fine thing to do. Which for the record it was not.

“That’s.. like seriously what the?” was all you managed to say back. You were not really sure how to deal with this situation but you really wanted to understand what the actual hell was going on. You wanted to say you were defending the kids but really it was just the most exciting thing that you had seen happen all year.

You stared at the snowman until you suddenly saw the man look up from his phone and look you dead in the eyes. Upon seeing his face you expected panic of some sort or even embarrassment followed by a sudden hasty explanation but his eyes just seemed blank. You had also expected some college or high school kid out on a dare but instead, you saw CEO Kim staring back at you. With eyes as dead as ever yet right at that moment, you could have sworn they had a small spark in them despite the lack of soul.

You were at a loss for what to do. On the one hand, you just had to know what was going on, you were so invested at this point. On the other hand, you didn’t feel like interrogating your boos on his rather interesting free time activities. It almost stopped you from saying something, you almost dashed back inside. They always say curiosity killed the cat. Still, you just had to find out. And defend the children of course.

“Why would you steal snow?” was the first question you asked him, quickly followed by, “Do enjoy the pain of children?” and then “what's wrong with you” all in succession as if you couldn’t decide what you wanted to know first.

“I’m bored.” was all he said. No one spoke for a few seconds. When you managed to talk yourself into looking him back in the eye you noticed the wild spark had gone. The purposeful mundane had returned to Kim Doyoung’s face and he honestly looked like a ghost. You suddenly realised how sad the man you saw every day really looked. It didn’t stop curiosity though, you needed a better answer.

“Most bored people like watch a movie or something.” you pointed out.

“And I steal worthless objects.” Kim Doyoung retorted. He had let go of the snowman but he didn’t leave or say anything else. He just continued to stare you down, only moving to blink and only blinking very occasionally. The silence was once again unsettling and the cold was really starting to get to you.

“Don’t steal from kids it's really not very nice,”

“I am not here claiming to be a model citizen,” he replied. He then said nothing more. You knew he probably never would so you turned on your heels and walked away, hoping he wouldn’t fire you tomorrow.

When you pulled the blind in your window down, you glanced out to see if he was still there, but the only thing left was footprints in the snow - he had taken himself back home and the snowman with him.

************************

When you sat down at work, to say you were nervous would have been a gross understatement. Even the simple sound of a stapler set you on edge. You were kicking yourself for confronting Mr Kim last night in such an extreme way. The apartment building you lived in was kind of pricey and finding any accommodation you could afford was difficult so you really couldn’t afford to lose your job.

So when you heard the footsteps coming towards you, the footsteps of whoever would deliver the key report information that day, you were praying to any god that it wasn’t CEO Kim, you also were praying that you didn’t get called to his office. When the footsteps stopped you didn’t dare look up to see who it was. It was only when the person cleared their throat you managed to drag your eyes up to look at them.

You had never been a particularly lucky person and that luck certainly didn’t seem to be starting today for when you looked up the dull eyes of Mr Kim looked right back at you. At this point all you could do not to run away was to repeat please don’t fire me over and over in your brain. Unfortunately, you came to the realisations that one or two of your please don’t fire me’s must have been said aloud as Mr Kim gave you a rather confused look.

“Why would I fire you, what you do or say in your free time is up to you, just as what I choose to do in my free time is up to me.” You had no clue what to reply to that so you settled for staring blankly at your shoes. “Anyhow, the marketing strategy seems to have improved slightly but it still needs work to fix the deficit. His face remained emotionless before he turned and walked away.

He was the strangest person you had ever encountered and you would have given all the money in the world to know what he was thinking and why he acted the way that he did but for that moment you were mostly satisfied with the fact that he hadn’t fired you. You started working on the report right away. Because while Mr Kim said what you did outside of work didn’t matter, you knew your work performance certainly did. He was a notoriously harsh man.

*****************************

The next time you saw him out of work was almost two weeks later. You had been out at a bar with your friends. It was one thirty-six as you strolled through the cold night air back towards your apartment. You were lost in thought until you saw someone approaching you in the opposite direction.

It was CEO Kim, yet this time he wasn’t dragging a snowman with him. Instead, in his arms, he had Shakespeare’s head. Not the real one, that was long rotted away buried deep under the earth, but a statue. Stealing a snowman that was one thing, the snow didn’t really belong to anyone you supposed. But this statue, you didn’t know where he got it from but it must have been acquired from an art gallery of sorts. To you that was a whole different ballgame, that wasn’t just messing around that was actual theft.

You didn’t know what to say to him when he stopped in front of you, his dull, lifeless eyes once again staring at you. The fact he hadn’t fired you earlier seemed to give you a surge of confidence as you decided to once again confront him about his odd dealings.

“Why did you steal the head?” you asked him.

“Why are you out so late?” he countered.

“I went to see some friends, why did you steal the head?” you refused to relent.

“I’m bored,” he said. It was the exact same answer as before. He frowned slightly, as he looked down at the statue in his hands. “You don’t understand a word I’m saying do you?.”

“I feel like what you’re saying is pretty self-explanatory, I just think that if you are bored you should maybe go out with some mates or join a sports team or something, instead of committing crimes.” Doyoung shook his head in response.

“That’s what I mean, you don’t get it,” he replied. He started to continue walking but he motioned for you to follow. You knew you should have just headed on back to your apartment but for some reason, you felt compelled to follow him. So you did. You fell into step alongside him.

“You see,” he began, “all those things you're suggesting, playing sports hanging out with friends, I don’t find them fun, they become onerous for me.”

“Maybe you need better friends then,” you suggested to which he laughed at. You had never seen a positive emotion on his face until that very moment. Which you decided was a very sad thing. “Maybe I don’t understand, you are young, rich, successful, you have all the things you need for a happy life.”

“And yet I don’t even really feel alive.” He looked down at you, “apart from when I’m stealing.” And you saw it again, the gleam in his eye as he spoke of his crime and he smiled at his Shakespeare head. Except it wasn’t his.

“It's illegal though,” you said. Doyoung shrugged slightly.

“Not what I do. Last time I checked snow didn’t belong to anyone, this head,” he said lifting it up slightly, “I stole from the COO’s office, the COO of my own company, who I pay so I don’t feel bad.” That relieved you slightly. Until that point, you had been afraid the police would come out of nowhere and arrest you as an accomplice to his crime.

After a while, he stopped walking. You realised you had stopped in front of a rather fancy house. Doyoung nodded to it.

“Would you like to come in?” he asked politely, it reminded you more of who you had once perceived Doyoung to be – the overly polite and cautious, pedantic boss. You were in two minds, this could go very badly, he clearly didn’t have a lot of morals so there was a small chance he may murder you. But you were also enthralled by him, you just wanted to find out more. So murder was a chance you somehow were willing to make. You also had a strange feeling that if he had to murder someone he wouldn’t pick you.

“Can you hold it?” he asked, referencing the statue as he placed it into your arms. It was heavier than expected but you only had to deal with the weight for a few moments before he opened his front door. The inside of Doyoung’s house was pristine. It looked like a showhome, but you didn’t know what else you had expected.

He set the statue down on his kitchen table. Before turning back to you.

“Would you like a drink?” he asked, once again very politely, “I’m going to make some tea, it's so cold outside.” You nodded.

“Yes, thank you,” you added, suddenly feeling like your politeness needed to match his, your previous need to confront him was lost.

Now you were inside you became acutely aware of how cold you were, you took a seat at Doyoung’s kitchen table, shivering ever so slightly. He seemed to notice this because as the kettle boiled he opened a separate cupboard to reveal a blanket. He took a few steps over to you before draping it carefully over your shoulders. You smiled at him in thanks. The smile replaced words that were not forming in your mouth. You reckoned this was because you realised where you were.

It was almost two am and you were sitting in your bosses kitchen. The same boss who happened to be both a snowman and statue thief. Yet weirdly you weren’t uncomfortable. Chilly yes, unsettled no.

“Here’s your tea,” Doyoung said, causing you to be drawn away from your thoughts. He sat down opposite you, moving his chair out very carefully, as not to scratch the floor. Your eyes narrowed.

“That’s what I don’t get,” you told him.

“What is?”

“How you can be so precise – about when you give me files, about how you order the office, your house and so on. But yet you also go out and steal meaningless things, and cause mini havoc.”

Doyoung shook his head, his eyes changed from bored to almost angry but not quite angry. You weren’t sure what emotion it was, but it was more than just bored.

“They aren’t meaningless. I live a privileged life, I have money and a good job. But I have nothing else – I can’t seem to find things that make me happy. To be honest I almost don’t feel at all. But stealing, stealing causes a rush in my veins, it allows me to capture a moment of happiness that someone else created. The snowman was made by children playing having fun, Shakespeare wrote about the most powerful loves. I don’t have any of those things so I steal them.”

You didn’t say anything back. You didn’t think you could. What do you say to someone so numb? You didn’t know. So you both sat there in silence drinking your tea. It was two twenty-three am. Fuck it you thought, before standing up abruptly. Doyoung barely looked up but that wasn’t going to stop you. You walked around the table to him, grabbed his arm and pulled him up.

“What are you doing?” he deadpanned.

“teaching you how to feel alive again, how to have fun.” You said, “I don’t care how long it takes, we will find something that makes you feel better than stealing does.”

“Impossible,” he said.

It was the challenge of the impossible that lead you and Doyoung to the middle of the city park long after it had closed. It leads to both of you standing before a rather large tree which you intended to climb.

“You’re kidding,” he said. You shook your head adamantly.

“Nope, there’s a good view, and even if there’s not maybe you could steal a leaf or two.” To which he chuckled. You smiled to yourself. It was already going to plan. You pushed up off the ground, ignoring the fact you were in your tights only as high heels hadn’t been optimum for this task. You pushed past any small pain, climbing from branch to branch, only checking now and again to ensure Doyoung was following.

You stopped at one of the larger branches probably twenty feet of the ground, it wasn’t super high but it was enough to feel dangerous, enough to see most of the park around you. You shuffled along the branch so that Doyoung would be able to sit next to you. And he did.

“Better than stealing?” you asked. Doyoung shook his head. “So you are not at all scared of falling?” you were incredulous.

“I don’t feel scared no.”

“So I cut my hand for nothing,” you sighed looking down at where the rough bark had torn the palm of your hand slightly. Doyoung’s eyebrows furrowed together,

“We shouldn’t have done it if you were going to hurt yourself.”

“Not a big deal,” you shrugged, “But it hasn’t worked so on to the next thing.” You motioned for him to start climbing down which he did, you followed on behind. Once you reached the bottom you started to walk back towards the city. Doyoung walked behind you, saying nothing.

You suggested many things and did many activities with him across the night, basketball in an abandoned court, pushing him in a shopping trolly, getting ice cream at four am in winter. But none of these simple things, that were just a bit wild for you, seemed at all interesting to him. So when you saw the sun peak up from behind the old firehouse you began to concede.

“Maybe you are right,” you said to him, as you sat in front of his house, back where you started. “Maybe you can’t feel apart from when you are stealing.” You looked at him sadly, but he wasn’t looking at you. “Please just don’t steal from my house in your future endeavours,” you asked, before standing up and smoothing out your dress. “But I wish you every happiness, Mr Kim.” You put your hand over his reassuringly. And then you walked away, you somehow couldn’t bring yourself to look back. Even when you heard him shout your name. Or maybe it was just the wind.

When you got home it was six twelve am and you just fell into your bed. You hoped that Mr Kim would forgive you from your absence at work. And you never got a phone call, so he seemed to have let you off the hook. Then it was the weekend so you didn’t have to face work until Monday. You were fine with that.

********************************

Monday came and you started filling out forms and replying to emails much like always. The day was exactly the same as it had always been. At least it was up until the time you usually received the report information. It was four minutes past the set time and nobody had arrived with the sheets of paper. This had never occurred in the three years you had worked for the firm.

You checked your watch one last time before getting up from your desk. You walked out to the front desk, suddenly realising you had no clue where Doyoung’s office was.

“Excuse me,” you said to the man on the front desk, “could you possibly tell me where Mr Kim’s office is?”

“I’m afraid he’s busy,” the man replied.

“It’s just this is important, I have to complete the company report every day and nothing has been brought to my desk,” you explained.

“Could I have your name and job title?”

“Y/n y/l/n Office Coordinator.” The man looked up suddenly.

“Oh right yes, I was just about to send someone to find you, Mr Kim has asked to speak to you, his office is on the fourth floor, speak to his secretary there.” You thanked him before hurrying off. Maybe this was it, he had finally decided to fire you. Once again you thought back to your past actions, kicking yourself for scolding your boss, what a stupid thing to do you thought.

The lift dinged open and you stepped inside. There was no one else in the lift so you took the moment to bang your head against the wall. The lift was somehow faster than you had expected because before you realised the doors had opened again. You were still banging your head against the wall as Doyoung stared into the lift at you, standing in the doorway.

He didn’t say anything but turned around and walked back to his office, and like you had the night he stole the Shakespeare head, you followed behind him. Followed into his office which was just as clean and minimalistic as his house had been.

“Please, have a seat,” he said, pointing towards the rather avant-garde chair opposite his desk, “I’m sorry the chair is so odd, marketing said it would impress people, yet it tends to have a rather opposite effect.”

You smiled slightly sitting down into the chair, you could see why it was unpopular, it was ridiculously uncomfortable. You crossed your legs over but assumed you just ended up sitting as awkwardly as you felt.

“Here’s your information,” Doyoung said to you after a while. You turned your head to face him, slightly confused.

“You aren’t firing me?” Doyoung shook his head.

“I already told you I would only fire you based on what you do inside the workplace. What you do at four am is up to you.” At this you visibly relaxed, it felt like dejavu. He was right, you had already had this conversation before. Doyoung looked at you intensely without ever looking away.

“Why did you call me here then?”

“I have something for you, one second,” he reached down into one of his desk draws and pulled out a small box. He pushed it across the table, opening the top for you. Inside was a silver bracelet with small moon charms on it. As you reached out to take the box your fingers brushed against his lightly.

“Did you steal it?” was the first thing you asked, which may have been slightly rude but you had to know. You couldn’t accept a gift if it was stolen. Doyoung laughed. Not just a small smile or chuckle like before but an actual laugh. You were confused more than anything. You couldn’t think of anyone who had actually ever spoken of him laughing.

“No, I didn’t steal it. I went to a jeweller and I bought it for you.” He said with a hint of what you thought might be a blush.

“Why?” you asked. He chuckled again.

“I might as well have stolen it, I’m under interrogation.” It was your turn to go red.

“I’m sorry,” you lifted the bracelet out of the box, looking at it, ‘it’s really beautiful.” Doyoung’s shoulder’s seemed to relax slightly.

“To answer your question, it’s a thank you, for helping me.”

“Well trying to help you at least,’ you joked, “I couldn’t get you to feel, none of my thrill-seeking activities were exciting enough clearly.”

Doyoung shook his head, he seemed conflicted about what he was going to say next. He didn’t talk for a minute or two – you didn’t mind, the silence was calming, not uncomfortable.

“When I told you I didn’t feel, I talked about why I stole Shakespeare’s head, do you remember?” He asked, leaning back in his chair, running his hand through his hair. You nodded.

“You said that Shakespeare was able to write about the greatest of loves, the kind of feeling you don’t experience.” Doyoung nodded.

“I think I felt that feeling, the excited one also in retrospect I think I had fun, but the Romeo and Juliet feeling, that’s the one I noticed.” He stood up from his seat and walked round to you, placing his hand on yours as you had his two weeks earlier. “It sounds stupid because it’s so simple, but this, this is making me feel alive.”

You were conflicted because what he felt, you could see yourself feeling it too, but right now, you knew it wasn’t what he needed.

“it’s not healthy,” you said to him, “what makes you happy should never be one singular person.”

“I know, but I don’t think that’s it. You only need one person to do CPR to bring them back to life, that one person doesn’t become the only thing you have. So I wanted to thank you, for making me feel alive – in a way that doesn’t require theft.”

You squeezed his hand.

“Would you be my friend?” Doyoung asked you, chewing on his lip. You broke out into a smile.

“I would love to be your friend Doyoung.”

*********************

You were meant to meet Doyoung and a friend of yours Jaehyun for a night out. It was nine o six when you stood outside the bar when you got a phone call from Jaehyun.

“I have to babysit my niece, it’s a family emergency,” he explained, “give my apologies to Doyoung.” You told him you understood and that you hoped it went okay. By the time you hung up the phone you turned to see Doyoung standing behind you.

You had been hanging out a lot with Doyoung over the past three months, introducing him to your friends as he told you about things he had done of his own accord also. You gleamed when you saw him standing in front of you. He was looking good, you had to admit.

“Jae had to cancel,” you told him.

“Just us then,” he smiled, placing his arm around your back carefully as you both walked into the bar. It wasn’t particularly busy because you had insisted you went out on a Tuesday because the drinks were cheaper. Doyoung had tried to disagree but you told him that he didn’t pay his employee’s enough for them to pass up on cheaper drinks.

You took a seat as Doyoung went to get you a drink, you had insisted you paid for your own one but he was trying to make a point after you had complained you were underpaid.

He came back only moments later with your drinks and sat down next to you.

“I haven't hung out with just you in ages,” he commented.

“I brought you back to life, my work was done,” you said sipping from your drink.

“You may not be the only thing that makes me feel happy,” Doyoung began, putting his drink back on the table, “But you’re the person that makes me the happiest.” He smiled slightly. “I’m sorry if that’s inappropriate to say. You shook your head.

“I want you to be happy, that’s why I helped you in the first place.”

“That’s just because you’re a nice person,” he laughed slightly sadly, “you didn’t know me.”

“I talked to you almost every day for three years even if it was just about work reports, I like to think I did know you, even if there wasn’t a lot to know back then.” Doyoung looked away. From then on your conversation drifted back to more normal things, work, gossip, holiday plans.

“I’m probably just going to watch Netflix for a week, I’m saving up right now so I won’t go away but I still want a week off,” you said.

“I’ll miss you at work because you’re my best office coordinator of course,” he added. You fiddled with your bracelet, It was weirdly awkward, something you had never felt between you and Doyoung before, usually, you got on great but today there was some unspoken tension.

“You still wear it,” Doyoung said, flicking one of the charms on your bracelet with a smile. You nodded.

“It’s really pretty,”

“So are you… shit sorry, I don’t know… I just kinda said it sorry…” You giggled slightly looking down at your feet, then back up at Doyoung. His inner conflict somehow made him look cute. You found yourself drawn to his lips. He leaned over and pushed a strand of hair out of your eyes, that had fallen as you looked down and up so quickly. But he didn’t pull his hand away again, instead he looked you straight in the eye. This time though his eyes were bright not dull, the sparkled despite the low light levels. It was the most beautiful thing you thought you had ever witnessed.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked ever polite, for no matter how much he wanted to kiss you, he would never put your friendship in jeopardy. You nodded and leaned closer to him as he did to you until your lips caught together. He kissed you slowly, almost like it hurt, like he was scared, yet you didn’t know what of. You pulled away, still leaving your hand on his cheek.

“What’s wrong?” you asked him. He just shook his head and pulled you back close, kissing you passionately, his hands lost in your hair. Almost forgetting you were sat in the corner of a bar.

“I love you,” he mumbled between kisses causing you to stop moving altogether, you didn’t pull back, your lips just froze. Doyoung leaned away and stood up, taking your hand in his pulling you up with him. You both walked out of the bar, you still stunned to even say anything. When you stood outside in the slightly warmer air, you did realise that you were just metres away from where you stood the night Doyoung stole Shakespeare.

“I love you,” he said louder this time, “and you don’t have to love me back or say anything but I had to tell you. You may not be the only thing that makes me happy but you know you’re the most important and you make me feel the most alive. I have never felt more alive than when we kissed just now. You are the kindest, most fun person, the only person who helped me, who could help me. I was one step away from grand theft auto when I met you… but Shakespeare was the last thing I stole.”

“It wasn’t the last thing you stole,” you said finally, placing both of your arms around Doyoung bringing him into a hug, “because you stole my heart,” you looked up at him, pecking him on the lips. “I never thought I would end up loving someone who steals snowmen… but here we are,”

“Here we are,” Doyoung agreed before kissing you again and this time you could feel him smile as you kissed you, and both your eyes were shut but you didn’t need to look Doyoung in the eyes anymore to see that he wasn’t the only thief anymore, because you had stolen his heart to.

#nct #nct imagines #doyoung #nct doyoung #doyoung imagines #doyoung scenarios #nct scenarios #nct reactions #kim doyoung

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stellarlex · 5 years ago

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Not This Time (1/1) Miraculous Ladybug

#miraculous ladybug #ml salt #ml season 3 #ladybug #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #lila rossi #not this time

192 notes · View notes

mintseesaw · 6 years ago

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Written in the Stars | one

Pairing: taehyung x reader

Genre: fluff, angst, dad!au

Word count: 6k

Warning: none

Description: read here (link in bio)

“I know, Mom. I’m about to leave.” You're on the phone with your mom, she’s reminding you about your trip to your hometown, your eyes skimming through the things you’re going to bring, making sure that nothing is forgotten.

You zipped the travel bag open, checking specifically the treats you bought yesterday in the nearby convenience store for your nephews. Joo Woon and Seo Joon are in a sugar diet but it doesn’t hurt if you spoil them once in a while.

“Okay, dear. Give us a call once you arrived at the station, I’ll ask your brother to pick you up.”

Your movements halted for a second at the mention of your brother.

“He’s home?” Since he got into uni, you rarely get the chance to see your little brother. You couldn't even admit that you miss that little punk who used to call you every time he asks you for a favor--more like when he needs money for his luxuries.

“Oh, he is. I threaten to cut his allowance off if he does not go home this weekend.”

Your eyes rolled at your mother’s remark. Indeed, she always has her ways in everything, including your trip to Daegu today.

“Mom, let him be. At least, he’s studying well. Anyways, don’t worry about me, I’ll just ride a bus or something.” You zipped it shut then hooked it on your shoulder as you sauntered your way out of the bedroom towards the sofa in the living room.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. You know my brother, mom. Yeonjun will only ask me a favor in exchange of driving me home.”

She chuckled and you can just picture her shaking her head. “Alright. Take care, dear.” Your thumb pressed the end call button then slipped the device inside your pocket.

You didnt fill your hand carry full as you don’t need a lot of clothes to change into. Also, you have remaining clothes kept somewhere in your drawers back at your parents’ house so you don’t necessarily need much.

Today’s your first Saturday to spend it back at home, first of the many coming weekends. You’re not a morning person, and if it werent for your agreement with your mom, you would have still been sleeping at this point.

The car ride to the train station was short giving you an ample of time left for you to catch the closest trip to your hometown. And as you saunter your way inside, you’re not expecting anything less than a crowd swarming within the pavement.

In no time, you have made your way to a ticket booth, purchased a ticket and settled in your seat indicated in the ticket receipt. Among the two pairs of seat facing each other, the one to your right and the pair across yours have yet to be occupied. And as you wait for the clock to strike at the time the train will leave, your eyes scan the confined space, eyeing the passengers who have also settled in like yourself before they unexpectedly land on a pair of a tall, young man and a little girl whom you assumed his daughter.

Although they have yet to reach near where you are, you could still make out the displeased expression of the man. The little girl, on the other hand, is half-sprinting ahead of him and you concluded that the action stirred the reaction present on the young man’s face. He tried to garner her attention by calling her name which you had failed to hear through the collective sound of chattering passengers. Instead of making her turn around to face him, he gains some of the passengers’ attention, heads glancing in their direction to which he bowed his head apologetically for creating an unnecessary noise. For you, it wasn’t the noise that made them turn their heads at him, it was probably his voice.

Wasting no time, in three long strides, he was able to reach for her tiny hand, taking it securely in his large one, making sure the little girl will no longer run naughtily. Once she snapped her head up and had a glimpse of his face, it’s as if she already knew she did something unpleasant. Her face fell, letting her father take her wherever their seats are without a protest. You were half-expecting for them to pass by your seat so when the same man halted his steps next to the seats across from yours, you slightly straightened your back, gathering they must be occupying of the seats across yours.

His nearness allowed you to examine him clearly and the first thing your scrutinizing eyes have landed on is his hair. It was not short, but not too long to be able to tie it up in a bun. Your eyes then traveled down his deep set of brown eyes to his pointed nose, to his pink, supple lips— you abruptly jerk your head away when you realize you’ve been staring far too long to be considered rude. You silently hoped he didnt notice that, lowering your head in utter embarassment. That‘s how you noticed your phone clutched securely in your palm.

You opened it and directed your gaze at the device, mindlessly scrolling through a social media app you just tapped, shaking away the urge to peer at the two figures in front of you.

After they had settled down, and made sure his daughter is comfortable enough, the handsome man crouched down to his daughter's eye level. Talking to her in a low voice so no one could hear it. The proximity between your seats and the wavering commotion allowed you to hear it, whether you want to or not.

"Do you promise not to do it again?" Asked in a low but deep whisper.

You heard his voice earlier, but now that you can hear it clearly and this close, it surprised you how his voice seemed deeper than you expect it to be. Not only his physical features made him a head turner, but his voice could as well. You know for sure.

The kid avoided his gaze then said, "Daddy, I want to eat." She was completely ignoring his father’s warning. And she was trying to get away with it.

"We just ate before we got here, didn’t we angel?" His forehead creased in doubt of his daughter’s claim. She was silent, blinking innocently.

"We didnt bring food though. Can my baby wait until we reach granny's house?" He softly coaxed, praying she would understand that there’s no way they would get anything to eat inside the train. He then clips some of her hair behind the shell of her ear, consoling her to her little dilemma.

"But Daddy, I'm hungry." Whines the little girl, although her pronounciation is clear and her verb communication skills are noticeably developed enough to voice out her thoughts straight into a clear message rather than saying it in chunks of phrases. Maybe she’s above the age of three.

"Didn't we just eat, angel? You're hungry again?"

She nodded vigorously, as if to prove a point. He looked helpless for a second.

It was during that moment when the train moved.

His features fell into a worry one. His goal to scold his daughter, long forgotten and washed away with concern. "Are you sure?" You heard his daughter whines again. You couldnt watch the scene continue to unfold anymore. And before you even register what you’re doing, you’re already interrupting their conversation.

"Uh— excuse me," the moment you spoke, it was an instant reaction of him to snap his head towards you. His daughter quietly peered at you. He straightened his back as he waits for you to continue talking, “Im sorry, I didn't mean to listen to your conversation. I heard... uhm your daughter... I have treats here, I'm not sure if you allow her to eat sweets—" he cuts you off politely. Your cheeks heating up when he didn't let you finish.

"No, it's fine Miss..." he trailed and look at you expectantly, waiting for you to tell your name.

"YN,"

You’re embarrassed for what you did that your mind is tricking you when you saw his eyes glinted by the mention of your name.

"... Miss YN, I mean, you didn't have to." He offered a smile and you’re not sure if it’s in response to your offer or a consolation to your flushed face.

"I was just considering that the journey will take more than 2 hours. And we just left Seoul..."

You waited as his eyebrows meet, pondering over the situation. It wouldnt upset you if he wouldnt accept it, since you’re a stranger and if youre in his shoes, it would be reasonable enough to second doubt a stranger’s intention.

He heaves a long sigh, raking his eyes to his daughter’s figure. If it weren’t for his daughter, he’d be too shy to accept anything from anyone.

"Okay, but please let me replace it once we get there."

You shook your head, “It's alright. I can just buy another."

"For your kids?"

Your mind momentarily went blank, suddenly losing the ability to process and comprehend a question.

"What?"

"The sweets."

Then it clicks in your mind. “Oh!" You chuckled, then briefly corrected his query, "...nephews."

This time around, it is his turn to blush. The faint crimson tinting his cheeks made him no less than the attractive man that he is. He looks dashing, regardless.

"Right, I'm sorry for assuming. I shouldn't have asked in the first place."

You didnt speak, but offered him a polite smile in reply. Your hand went to the small travel bag which you placed to the empty seat beside yours, lightly rummaging through the contents inside well aware that you’re under the scrutiny of two sets of eyes, watching your every movement in pure curiosity.. It shouldnt take you long to find it since you put them on top of the clothes. The familiar touch of the plastic wrapper made its way to your palm and you pull one out, and hand it over to the little girl.

His daughter, whom you heard her father called her Jae hya, looked at him as if to get a consent before accepting the treat from your hand.

He nodded and mouthed a ‘Thank you’ towards your direction before glancing back at her daughter, ‘What will you say to Miss YN, angel?”

Blinking a few times, she answered shyly in her cute adorable voice, “Thank you, Miss YN.”

“Just YN please,” you softly said then laughed a little before continuing, “and you’re welcome.”

Silence filled the air after the small interaction, to which you used the opportunity to divert your attention back to your phone.

The only time you dared to look up at him again is when he introduced himself out of nowhere.

"Taehyung,"

Your eyes instinctively flicked up at the sound of his deep and thick voice and met his intense gaze. His hand held out across the rectangular platform which created a little distance between your seats. Your eyes travelled from his eyes to his palm pushed forward in front of you, you stared at it for a second admiring how impressively large it is compared to yours before accepting the handshake. The warmth of his hand felt contrastingly good to the cold temperature inside the train. But then the moment ended shortly as you took your hand back quickly, startled by the sudden faint cold enveloping in your spine as his long and slender fingers made contact to your slim ones.

Sensing your awkwardness in the situation he cleared his throat as if to ease the strange tension between you, pulling himself back to his seat. Your head tilted on your left where the clear window allowed you to watch the blurry view outside. There’s nothing entertaining or astonishing in the view that can prolong your attention there, but you could just pretend to be immersed with it if it’s the only way to escape the chance of getting an an eye contact with him.

He was not intimidating at all. In fact, he’s polite and seems like a good father. The smile on his face while you were conversing with him is surprisingly sincere. But the rational in you tries to disregard the certain pull that’s accentuating in him.

Why would he waste his time to you? You’re someone he personally does not know of as well as he is for you.

But...is it wrong to appreciate his perfect exterior features? After all, he’s just not simply beautiful. The word alone would not give justice to describe him. He can be likened to an ethereal creature whom god generously gifted too much of all the good physical attributes that one human can have.

And when he stared at you—the intensity that his eyes hold when he sets them on you, it was too much to just let him rest them on you while your insides are melting. You try to shake away the emerging attraction.

Isnt it too soon for that?

He’s just a stranger— a passenger travelling from Seoul to Dongdaegu station which also happens to be where you’re boarded into, and whom his seat is across yours. That’s just it. You’ll never see him again. The thought becomes your internal mantra the whole journey in order to dissipate the agitated feeling inside you that one could mistakenly concluded as a look of indifference while you motionlessly peer at the window.

Two hours and more had passed and the train stopped to your destination. During the whole ride, you were not even spared a single wink of sleep from the mere presence in front of you. His eyes are shut when you stood up and walk towards one of the exit doors, unsure if he spared you a glance during the rest of the journey. It shouldn’t matter anymore because you wouldn't see him again. And the embarrassing act which hinted your little act of eavesdropping to their personal conversation should be buried deep in your memory lane where you can’t remember it forever.

“YN!” Your mom exclaimed happily when she opens the front door, greeting you with a warm hug.

It was more than four weeks ago when she paid you a visit in your place in Seoul and it was the last you’ve seen of her until today. You hugged her back.

“Come, let’s eat. Table’s ready for breakfast...”

Your eyes skimmed the vicinity of the before asking, “Where’s Yeonjun?”

Just as your mother heard you and is about to speak to reveal where your brother is, Yeonjun timingly appeared from the doorway of the kitchen. He was munching something you’re not sure what of. Not to mention, his mouth is full. When you say full, his cheeks are swelling and his lips are barely closing from the contents filling exaggeratingly inside his mouth. When your mother’s eyes landed on his form, he flinches. The mere sight of her giving you and him an indication of what is to come.

“Yeonjun!” He earns a smack in his arm from your mother, “I told you to wait up!” She gritted.

Yeonjun immediately went behind your back, knowing he’ll be spared the scolding if he has someone protecting him from your mother’s wrath and someone as a human shield from another impending spank.

He complains, “I’m starving, Mom. I didnt have dinner last night.” You chuckled, not at his reason but from the manner he delivered it, they way a three year-old kid would reason out if they get caught red handed eating sweets when they’re not allowed to. Going to college didn't change him one bit. He’s still the immature younger brother that you know.

Such a baby.

“Who isnt? Your father is as hungry as you are!”

He didnt reply but you could hear him mockingly imitate her in a low voice so she couldn’t hear. It made you snorted further. Your mother eyed you briefly, her eyebrow shot up in question. She threw a harmless warning at him before proceeding back to the kitchen.

“You rascal,” you poked, ruffling his hair at the same.

“Stop that, Noona, I just fixed my hair.” He whines, swatting your hand away from his hair.

“Oooh, my baby brother’s growing up. When did you learn to clean up?” You teased further. He rolled his eyes in response.

“Stop calling me that. I’m not a baby...look I’m even taller than you.” he retorted back, a side smirk appearing on his face, mocking your obvious insufficiency in the height department.

You playfully rub his cheek as if to literally wipe off the smirk on his face. He reacted impulsively, grabbing your hand away from his face.

“Noona… stop!” he grumbled. His efforts seemed to be wasted as he firmly locked both of your hands in his fist but he was kept pestered on as you kicked his thighs in return, trying to get away from his hold.

You were enjoying the look of complete irritation in his face like he’s ready to throw you off the window at any second in any chance that he gets.

“YN noona!” he frustratingly exclaimed while struggling to keep hold of you. “Why are you being annoying? You literally just got here.”

“Carry me to the dining table.” You softly demanded, as if you’re not locked up from his hands. Despite his strength and towering height, he’s scared enough to use it to his advantage against you and a sly grin making its way on your face knowing that he’ll eventually obey you.

His face scrunched up, trying to mock your command. “What are you, 5?”

“Piggy back ride, then I’ll leave you be.”

He dramatically lets out a sigh before he follows to your bidding, “Fine.”

Your parents both send you a weird look when Yeonjun entered in the dining room with you on his back. After he puts you down, and after you briefly greet your dad and flop down on an empty chair beside your brother’s, the four of you finally started eating, anything but a silent breakfast. It’s always like that, especially when your brother is present. He also has his way of annoying you as much as you have to him and if not for your mother chiding in between your bickering, you wouldn’t try to shut up as well as your brother.

As the short duration of the meal ends, your father ordered your brother to do the chore of washing the dishes. Being a baby that he is, he whined helplessly as if it can change your father’s order.

Your sister and the twins arrived shortly after breakfast. Your temporary job or as your sister calls it your duty as an aunt starts right away, babysitting them as they play in the confines of the living room. Toy cars, animal figurines and pieces of legos were left scattered all over the floor and you helplessly sat on the floor while looking out for your nephews to make sure they won’t hurt themselves. At this point, you find the chance to talk to Chae through the phone, while your eyes never leaving the two handful human beings wherever they waddled to. When she came to know you’re currently at your parents’ house, she immediately gossiped the information in the groupchat you share with your old friends whom you met in high school.

“How’s the city girl doing?” It was Chae right when you reached the table where you found her sitting in inside the famous Samgyeopsal place in the town. It was about twenty minute drive from your parents’ house. She arrived to the diner before you and Hoseok did and obviously selected a table while waiting for everyone to show up.

You were greeted with smoke and pleasantly tolerable chattering coming from the customers as you and Hoseok went inside. Hoseok took the chair which is literally across the grilling area of the table.

“Just fine.” You casually shrug your shoulders, asking you as if you two haven’t been talking on the phone for at least half an hour.

Chae craned her neck trying to peer behind your back, probably looking for the others. Hoseok gave you a ride so you only came with him.

“Where’s Yoongi and Irene? I swear to God those two are always competing for the last one to show up.”

“I called Irene to say I’m gonna pick her up along with YN, but she mentioned baby Leo is sick so she couldn’t make it.” He told you that earlier in the car on the way here. He continued talking when no one else has yet to throw a remark, “Yoongi-hyung… well you know him, he’s probably just late.” Chae curtly nodded in acknowledgement.

“Chae told me your auto repair business is expanding, Hobi.” You began, and in a way, to talk about something far more important. If Chae didn’t share the information, you probably wouldn’t have known. Among the group, you’re always the last one to know what’s going on with your friends’ lives, not only that you’re the only one who left the town to work, you also rarely get the time to communicate with them.

“Oh, yeah. It’s going great, the number of customers is growing so there’s also a demand to expand the area. But you guys know it’s not solely mine. I have a business partner.”

“Are you talking about that beautiful, young man in your office when I came to your shop? You didnt even introduce us!” Chae accusingly asserted.

A familiar lady, who you recognized as the owner of the diner, appeared on your table. Fresh slices of pork belly in a plate and side dishes in the tray being balanced in a single hand as she placed them one by one on the table. Another helper came, serving the rest of the dishes Chae first handedly ordered. Hoseok attentively took the plate filled with meat and started grilling them.

His eyes narrowing at her remark. “Shut up, Chae. He just recently got divorced.”

“The more reason you need to introduce me to him. You know, he might be looking for someone to forget his wife.”

You throw a potato marble in her direction using your chopsticks. It was too late when she tried to cover her face with her hands as it landed on her shoulder. You heard Hoseok roared into fits of laughter. She winces even though it was faintly thrown, thus, she’s only being dramatic. “What? I’m desperate. Perhaps, your brother—” she ducked and screeched when she saw you raised your chopsticks, anticipating the impact of another potato marble.

“He’s 19.” You grated casually knowing that she’s being in her satirical self.

“So? He’s attractive.”

“So is Ji Soo. Better option since he’s around our age.” You teased, your smirk growing as a distaste look replaces her bright and playful aura. Hoseok yet again fell into a series of laughter in pure amusement which made you laugh in return. He’s the only person who can make you laugh through the sound of his laughter alone.

“Why don’t you give the poor guy a chance? He’s been pursuing since forever.”

“No, thanks. I’d rather be single.” She scornfully expressed while spontaneously filling her mouth anything that her chopsticks can reach to divert her attention, mostly kimchi and anchovies.

“He’s not that bad, seems like a nice guy to me and probably better than your ex-fling.”

“Yeah, he once stopped by the shop. He’s nice.” Hoseok seconded your comment to her dismay. Her face scrunched up in disgust.

“Why is the topic suddenly shifted to that guy? I can’t stand him, okay?”

Before you can bite back a reply, Yoongi suddenly appeared, coolly sitting up beside Hoseok.

With a simper, Chae retorted at the swift appearance of the honey-haired man, “Look who decided to finally show up.”

As usual, he doesn’t seem one bit embarrassed from being almost half an hour late. He gave a brief nod in your direction, acknowledging your presence before taking a pair of chopsticks and took a bite from Hoseok’s ramen.

“I couldn’t leave until Yoo-Ri sleeps.” He states in an indifferent manner, even though no one was questioning his late arrival. Maybe you all just got used to it.

“Aww,” Chae’s hand flew on her chest, clutching it, a gesture of mock admiration to which Yoongi responded by rolling his eyes. “Such a sweet father.”

He ignored her jest, then spoke in between chews of food in his mouth, “So, what’s up?”

“YN, wants to treat us. That’s what.” Chae proudly announces which you send her a dumbfounded look, not expecting her comment.

“I didn’t say that.”

“She’ll pay the bill anyway,”

“I’m sure city girl will,” Yoongi snickered. The pet name came from him. As you’re the only one who went away from the town for better opportunities of your career. All of you separately went to uni outside Daegu. But the rest of them, unlike you, came back here. Yoongi married a year ago and chose to settle down here, as well as Irene who got married right after college. Hoseok started a business related to his degree and Chae works in one of the district hospitals here as a nurse.

In between chitchats of you and Chae, and Yoongi and Hoseok, your sudden visit in Daegu became the main topic of conversation when Yoongi asked out of nowhere, “Are you planning to stay here for good?”

You shook your head, “Plain visit. My mom wants me babysit the kids every weekends.”

“You’re going back to Seoul?” Yoongi interrogated further.

Uncertain of where the conversation is going, you tell him, “My work is in Seoul...”

“But where do you wanna live permanently?” It was Hoseok, this time. Now their attention is solely aimed at you, peering as they curiously wait for you to answer.

“I don’t know…”

“Life is much better here.” Yoongi acknowledges. Of course, he’ll say that. For one, he wouldn’t decide to live here if he thinks otherwise.

“Are you guys convincing me to live back here?”

She shrugged of her shoulders. “Maybe?” You didn’t respond to that, mostly because you’re confused why the casual conversation turned serious and seemingly fishy in your perspective. Are they teaming up now? For what?

“I mean, there’s like a tiny chance of running into...him if you’re here.” She further supplied.

Your eyes remained at Chae processing her words, although you’re certain the two guys are observing your reaction by the mention of your ex, an indicator rather. They must have thought you’re still not okay. You admit you’re not entirely healed up. But it doesn’t mean you’re hopelessly waiting for him to come back. You’re done with him. Nothing will ever make you change your mind, even so much as him literally begging the place he once have in your life, though you’re certain he wouldn’t.

The pain caused by the remnants of your wounds is what’s making you emotionally reserved these past few weeks. You’re broken and you’ve learned to cope up with it. You’re still broken because the past keeps haunting you for it was hard to erase years of your life that you had spent with him. 8 years to be exact. But it was just that. It’s not because you haven’t moved on. In fact, you don’t love him anymore. The pain that he caused is the only thing that reminds you of him now.

“Even if I do, I can manage. It’s not like I’m avoiding him, anyway.”

Yoongi decided to interfere as the atmosphere abruptly changes, “Let’s just drink.” He then called the attention of the lady owner, ordering bottles of soju.

The night ended pretty much later than you have expected. Hoseok’s low alcohol tolerance already made him wasted after half of the shots Yoongi have had, as well as Chae. Unlike him, Yoongi looks fine except for his flushed cheeks and neck. Not even a flicker of drunkenness can be identified in him. The current situation led him to volunteer himself to drive Hoseok’s car since all of you didn’t bring any car except for the owner himself who’s barely holding up and almosr crawling his way back to where his car is parked.

Both Hoseok and Chae have literally passed out right after you and Yoongi brought them to the backseat. It was quiet on the ride home. And you’re not complaining about it.

This day went a little productive than you anticipated it to be. The hangout was unplanned and a spur of the moment decision while you were talking to Chae through the phone. You mindlessly brought up the desire to go out to Chae, not really thinking the others would take it seriously if you ever ask them through the groupchat. The next thing you know, Chae have set up the the time and place where everyone will meet up to have a little drink and Hoseok calling you up to tell you he’d pick you up on the way.

In the midst of the silence inside the car, an image of the man earlier in the train flashed into your mind, to your dismay.

He’s just no one.

Yoongi decided to break the comforting silence. “You’ll be back next Saturday?” He rolled down the window and lit up a cigarette which you’re not aware where he got it from. Inside his pocket? You guessed.

“Yeah.”

“To babysit?” He chuckled, resting his elbow against the driver’s side’s door, the stick in between his forefinger and middle finger poking outside the window as he puffs out a smoke through his mouth. His other hand permanently glued on the steering wheel.

“Something like that…”

His efforts to casually converse with you was short lived as he noticed through his peripheral vision how all the events that occured today are gradually taking its toll on you. So he just continued to drive without opening up another conversation.

He only spoke later on when he stopped in front of your parents’ house, right after you slid off the car, and is about to close the passenger’s door.

“Give me a call if you wanna set up a little playdate with the kids and Yoo-Ri. I’m sure my wife wouldn’t mind it.” A smile made its way on your face, nodding at his offer. The twins will be ecstatic to meet another playmate.

“Sure. Drive safely, yeah?”

He gave you a curt nod then rolled the window up in the passenger’s side and drove away.

That night was the last you saw them yet. Days flew by in a blur unlike the past weeks and months which felt longer than this week that had quickly passed. You hate to admit that the weekend you spent with your family and with your old friends did a wonderful refreshment to you. You’d rather not tell your mom that she’s right, yet again. That her idea made a great effect on you.

When Monday came, you’re already anticipating another weekend to spend to in Daegu. And now that it’s already Saturday, you couldn’t wait to see them again today. You’re not sure who exactly you're excited to see of. Perhaps, being around the presence of people you trust without reservation puts you in peace. Being away with your loved ones and faced with strangers, colleagues, gravely contributes to your pent up frustration of doubting everyone’s sincerity towards you. After what happened.

All you’ve been chasing throughout these years is a decent life somewhere with someone you love thinking it’s the simplest form of happiness. After he broke off the engagement, the man whom you thought you’d spend the rest of your life with and the future you created with him all vanished into the thin air. When he officially left your shared apartment, you thought it was also the end for you. Not knowing how you’d recover from the severe damage he inflicted. That the rest of your life will be spent full of pretense happiness, with pure indifference and hatred to the world.

Now that you’ve realized what you’ve become after he left, it’s a good thing for you that he’s already out of your life. Because loathing the world instead of directing it towards him says how badly infatuated you are to him. To the point of blaming everyone for your heartbreak instead of aiming your fury to the person who have caused it. This would be the last time you’ll think of him. Even a flicker of his name, or a tinge of his image in your mind. You wont think of him, unless an external force coerces you to.

It was the last thing you remembered before falling asleep in the comforts of your seat.

He couldn’t help but stare mesmerizingly and in full awe. His lips parted, eyes twinkling from admiration, barely blinking, as if afraid to let his sight falter to such view in front of him. An angel. It was as if luck is on his side. She was already asleep when he arrived at his seat not too far away from her. But taken aback when he saw her, sleeping. Noticing the vacancy of the seats across her, he risked occupying them with his daughter sleeping on his arms as he settled in front of the woman who has filled his thoughts since that day. Indeed, luck is in his favor because nobody has claimed the seats.

Now, he’s not only sitting across her, the closest he could get, he can also stare at her sleeping form and could do it longer without making her uncomfortable like the last time. Hair getting in the way of her face as her head swayed to the said and he wants so much as push it aside to see her face more clearly. She looks like a beautiful angel, one that was sent to rescue them last Saturday and one who is responsible for making his heart flutter involuntarily.

When she offered the sweets for his daughter, it was an instant thought that she may have kids on her own although he shouldnt have voiced it out. Because she looks mature enough to be one, in a good way. Taehyung witnessed his friends bloom in their motherhood stage. It was that kind of maturity that he sees in her.

His eyes instinctively searched for her hand, for her ring finger that may hold him back. His heart does an overwhelming tug when he saw your finger unoccupied by a wedding band. Perhaps, a boyfriend? The same thought trailed in his mind as he noticed her stirring from her slumber. He moves his eyes towards his little princess, sleeping soundly beside him. And when he moves it back in front where the beautiful angel is sitting, his eyes widens.

She’s awake. And her reaction completely mimics his. Surprise evidently written on her face. For what reason?

You’re dreaming, aren’t you? Your mind must be creating an illusion at the place where you first laid eyes on him. You were thinking of him too much than you care to admit for letting him wander in your mind alone is unnecessary. You literally just broke up with you fiancée some months ago. You’re not supposed to relevantly consider the idea of him, someone you’re probably attracted with like a teenager that you’re not.

Your eyes fluttered, expecting to see nothing but the cushioned chair in front of you as you open them again.

Your breath hitched when your eyes landed on him yet again. He was looking at you with the same intensity like the last time. The same one which made you strangely uncomfortable.

He’s really here?

Your eyes traveled beside his seat. It is taken as well. By the sleeping figure of Jae hya. Have your mind gone wild making an image not only him in it but including his daughter...which likened the scene last Saturday? This time though, he is wearing a different button up shirt, larger than his body size but strangely suits him well. If this image in front of you is real, isn’t it weird to be seated across with a man and his daughter twice in a row?

Your heart achingly tugs against your chest when a smile slowly surfaces on his face while he locks his eyes on you.

The longer you stare back at him, completely immobile from your seat, the harder it gets to believe a part of you which convinces you this is not true.

The same man who has kept your mind unwarrantedly occupied is here? Same train in a same day. What is the probability of seeing him again? There’s only a tiny bit chance. Coincidence? Possibly… or perhaps, fate?

⇀

an: unedited :( what do you guys think?

#taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #taehyung smut #parent!taehyung #dad!taehyung #dad!au #taehyung scenarios #taehyung imagines #bts x reader #taehyung fanfic #kim taehyung #taehyung au #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts imagines #bts fanfic au #bts fluff

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folkelorde · 5 years ago

Text

ADMIN TIPS! WHAT MAKES OR BREAKS A ROLEPLAY?

this has been sitting in my drafts a while because with about ten years of roleplay experience, i’ve been in a lot of group and seen a lot of different kinds of admins. now, i can look back and see the point where things started to die or the point where a group was really saved – whether i was the admin or someone else was.

i know being an admin can be hard work and sometimes a group can die based on circumstances that aren’t in your control, so taking the initiative to start a group can be a big risk; a lot of work for little payoff, and i think it says a lot about the passion of the writers in our community that we keep doing it.

lately, i’ve been getting really frustrated with joining groups because they die so quickly. however, there are a few things i notice keep happening that can make a huge difference on whether a group succeeds or fails, so i’ve put some encouraging words and advice under the cut. please note that these are just my opinions and things i’ve seen that work for me.

1. SET AN EXAMPLE.

as an admin, it’s hugely important to take the leap! when your group opens, be the first to post and break the ice, be the first to post an intro, and be the first to reach out and message people. you can’t just open and then sit back and let people come to you. additionally, be sure to open the group or start events at a time that works for YOU. seriously, it makes a big difference when the admin can be online for those things. also, i find that as an admin, i have to be a little more active than what’s expected because i find it really important to create plots and connections with EVERYONE, respond to every starter possible, and make sure that i welcome every person into the group. if there’s a new member, be that person that reaches out to say hello and welcome them. be that person to post the first open starter, etc. essentially, be the sort of group member that you want to be the admin for and i think that goes a long way for creating an inclusive community. this is really the NUMBER ONE thing that i see makes or breaks a group – groups that i join where the admin is plotting w/ people, reaching out, and in on what’s going on always last longer. tbh, i’ve never been in a group that lasted where i didn’t have a plot with the admin, so make sure you have plots and connections with your members!

2. COMMUNICATE WITH YOUR MEMBERS.

i think it’s important that people know what’s going on, every step of the way. if you think you’re going to open at a certain time, tell people in advance. if you wish there were more open starters in the tag, tell your members. if you don’t have time to answer all the asks you have, let people know. tell people when plot drops and events are coming up and ask people what they want to see. let group members be part of discussions and your decision process. essentially, as an admin, i never feel like i have to build this big wall and filter information about the group. when i’m a member, i love when it’s clear what’s going on in the group when. there are definitely times where you should keep that wall up though, like when you’re dealing with any ooc drama. in my experience, keeping conflict resolution off the dash as much as possible is key to dealing with problems. i notice that unless the group has been around a long time, an ooc matter that’s dealt with really publicly usually leads to the death of the group. if you have to communicate about what happened with your members, it’s usually best to find a way to do that privately.

3. DO NOT GIVE UP.

this is the BIGGEST reason that rps die. almost every rp i’ve ever admin-ed has a “drop-off rate” after opening and sometimes it can be pretty large. the first activity check, for an appless rp especially, is almost always pretty brutal. however, if you can make it over that first “hump”, the odds of your rp lasting are a lot higher because i really feel like most rps die within the first week or two. if you lose a lot of members or activity slows after the first couple of days, don’t stop. keep promoting, keep posting (both in character and out of character). i find that it really helps to have a big event or plot drop within the first week to give characters something to start off with immediately and it also gives people inspiration for starters. regardless, activity on the main is going to slow after opening, that’s just inevitable. you’re going to get less asks or apps in a day, sometimes you’ll get none, and that’s okay. if it flops, it flops, but give it a week or so before you abandon the main and you might see the turnaround that i’ve come to expect. some of the most loyal members and best connections in my groups have joined in the second or third week or month.

4. HAVE A PLAN.

when i start a group, i usually have at least the next couple of plot drops and/or events planned out in my drafts when i start. give yourself goals to work towards and know where things are going. when i open a group, i usually have the first event or plot drop already written out and drafted, ready to post on the first or second day. at the very least, it’s good to have a little brainstormed list going of things you want to do at some point. i find that it never works to run in blind and expect that the plot will just go from there – even in a plotless town or school rp, you need to have a few plot drops or big events planned. for me, it helps to think of my roleplay like a television show and my plot drops/events are “episodes.” all the characters will have their own subplots, but there should be things that bring them together as one. additionally, once things open, it can feel like a bit of a whirlwind and you’ll be really excited about the subplots for your own character, so it’s good to have the overarching stuff planned in advance.

5. KNOW YOUR IDEA.

i really think motivation matters. i think if you’re like “i really want to be in a group like this but it doesn’t exist and i have so much muse” always turns out better than “i want to be an admin, what will people want to be in?” don’t worry about what other people want from you when creating your plot. focus on what you want and what you have muse for, otherwise it’ll start to feel like a chore. being an admin is hard fucking work, alone or with a few other people. the plot has to really matter to you and be something that you desperately want to do, don’t base it around what you think people will be interested in. DON’T SECOND GUESS YOURSELF. if you think it’s cool and you want to write it, other people will too. some plots are more popular or are in popular genres, so they might get more attention and kick off faster, but if you stick to it, either way you’ll find your people.

6. ESSENTIALS

these days, groups tend to have a few regularly scheduled parts of their structure needed to keep things going. these things are: honesty/meme days, tasks, events, and plot drops.

honesty/meme days should come either once a week or once every other week depending on the activity level and size of your group. when i ran a really large group, we had them every week because there was so much going on, but with smaller groups i tend to have them when it feels right or after a plot drop/event since that’s usually when characters have a lot of new material to talk about in their answers and asks. tbh, these are really fun and help character development, so i really think they should be an essential part of your group.

tasks for character development may seem tedious, but i do really find that they not only liven up the dash, but help people keep their muse! in a roleplay, i always make these optional, since no one HAS to do them, but it’s also a nice way to give people something to do if the dash is a little slow on a particular day or whatever. depending on the amount of effort the task takes and the size of the group, i’d say you can do these weekly or bi-weekly.

events should be done at least once a month! most roleplays now operate with “dash events” which seems to work best since people are in all different timezones and have lives so it’s nice to have the event span over a couple of days. i really think the sweet spot is about 4-5 days, but if you have a group that gets really into them (which i have, generally in a big group), you can make them a week, but no longer than week or things will definitely stagnate.

plot drops matter, even if your group is “plotless.” plot drops differ for events because they don’t always put all of the characters in the same vicinity and don’t have a time frame. essentially, plot drops just give characters something to talk about or make starters about. i’ve run groups with and without plot drops and without plot drops, i generally can’t keep things going for more than twoish months, so i’ve noticed the difference and they’re really a necessity for me. groups that are more plotless and character driven generally don’t need these as often as groups with a more central plot and worldbuilding.

i also really like to open the floor for members to suggest tasks, events, and plot drops – some of my best events have come from things that members have expressed to me that they really want to do. sometimes, members will send me something they want that i already have planned in my drafts, so that’s just some extra validation for me that i’m clicking with them.

YOU CAN DO IT.

if you wanna do admin stuff, i seriously admire you. it’s exhausting, it’s hard, and it’s stressful because you care about your idea and your characters so fucking much, but it can be so worth it. being a good admin is almost like having another job with all the tasks you have to do, but when you create a plot and group that people get invested in and enjoy being part of, it’s the most rewarding thing in the world. i seriously wish you all the luck in the world with your ideas and if you need any help or advice, i’m here for you.

#rpt #rpc #rph #rpcha #rpa #guide #advice

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qqueenofhades · 5 years ago

Note

Ahem. As discussed, a prompt my good lady...Lucy and Flynn + fake married in Dubrovnik + the inevitable shenanigans...

Okay SO. On the plane over, there was something in the magazine about a website where tourists can go to Amsterdam and fake-marry a local for a day, so their new “spouse” can take them around the non-tourist parts of the city, and then they go their separate ways at dusk and it’s fun etc. I immediately decided that this needed a Garcy AU, for obvious reasons.

Lucy Preston wasn’t really planning on going to Croatia. In fact, she wasn’t exactly planning to go anywhere. But it’s been a rough few months to say the least – tenure meeting cancelled at Stanford, breaking up with Noah, Mom has to go back to the hospital for more tests and it isn’t looking good – and in a fit of late-night frustration, she decided to just fly somewhere over Thanksgiving break and forget about the clusterfuck that was her life for a bit. Somewhere warm, she wasn’t picky. She suggested that Amy go with her, but Amy had work and couldn’t get away, and by then, Lucy had already booked a ticket. She’s heard that Dubrovnik is beautiful, there is a university and a state archive there so she can theoretically disguise it as a research trip, and when she was running through the apparently deeply cursed Frankfurt airport to catch her connecting flight, a text popped up from Amy. Something that she thinks Lucy should try, just for shits and giggles. Some kind of app called Untourist.

Lucy took a look at it and decided that it was basically Tinder for tourists, even if the premise tried to be more classy than that. In short, you can pick a European city from the list (More Locations Coming Soon!, promises the popup), fill in some brief preference Q&As, and be matched with a local, who will fake-marry you in a ceremony complete with photos and then take you on a “honeymoon” for a day in the city. The idea is that you get to have a personal guide, explore places off the main drag – and presumably, if you hook up at the end, that’s a nice bonus, but not one that the app strictly advertises. It sees itself as promoting intercultural connections and lived experiences, rather than anything so ignominious as arranging casual sex with a hot foreigner. Apparently it got its start in Amsterdam, though, so this would not be surprising.

The split with Noah is still raw, and Lucy isn’t planning to use the app for that purpose – or indeed, at all. But after she has landed at the surprisingly tiny airport and has boarded the bus for the drive along the coast road to the city, she downloads it on a whim that she shouldn’t think through and decides it might be fun to have someone to travel with, even briefly. After she’s signed up, created a profile, and filled in her details, she is given two options to match with, and ends up going for the latter: Garcia from Dubrovnik. She thought about Marko from Zagreb, but his profile says that he’s a Dinamo Ultra, and she decided that she didn’t want to spend the day getting a crash course in the finer points of Croatian football hooliganism. Garcia it is, apparently.

Dubrovnik is insanely beautiful, with crystalline turquoise water lapping at towering medieval city walls (souvenir shops every few streets will proudly remind you that they filmed Game of Thrones here), palm trees, red-tiled roofs, old golden-stone buildings, winding side alleys, and sunlight that pours down as rich as olive oil. Since it’s November, it’s not quite as hot as in high summer, and the tourist rush is somewhat dimmed. Lucy sleeps late at her Airbnb high on a very steep side street, as the city is spread out over several hills on the side of the tall blue mountains that rise out of the water, and almost forgets that her fake wedding is today. She jumps out of bed, puts on some makeup (just because she’s not actually marrying the guy doesn’t mean she has to look completely trollish), grabs her bag, and heads down into town, following a winding alley of staircases that are probably going to be a pain to climb back up. She hopes this was a good idea. It was mostly to appease Amy, anyway. Can she cancel, or would that count as leaving Garcia at the (fake) altar?

What the hell, she’s here now, and maybe if she shows that she’s receptive to new experiences, the universe will give her a break. Lucy trots along the palm-treed square above the city walls, finds the door with the Untourist logo by the bell, and steps inside. “Dobro jutro,” she says, which is about all the Croatian she speaks, and most people have been happy to use English anyway. “I’m Lucy Preston, I have an appointment today?”

The slick Unreceptionist greets her, gives her a waiver to sign (bad experiences and/or unsatisfactory spouses are not their fault, any meeting beyond the day is done on personal terms, etc) and they await the arrival of her dashing groom-to-be. It is twelve minutes past their scheduled start time, and the Unreceptionist is making apologetic noises, when the door opens with a bit of a crash and a man who must be Garcia ducks in. He’s tall, dark, and craggy-handsome, probably in his forties, wearing aviator sunglasses, and clutching a takeaway coffee. He addresses the Unreceptionist in rapid Croatian, looks up, sees Lucy, and nods shortly. “Ah,” he says, switching to English. “Right, you’re here. Let’s go.”

“Sir,” the Unreceptionist says, looking as if he’s wondering if Garcia himself read the details and/or the release forms before signing up. “You’re supposed to…?”

“What?”

“You’re supposed to have the wedding ceremony first?”

“I’m supposed to have the what?”

At that, Lucy winces. Feeling as if this might be an opportune moment to interrupt the conversation, and wondering if it’s too late to switch to Marko from Zagreb and risk dying at an Eternal Derby game, she stands up. “Hi,” she says. “I’m Lucy Preston?”

“I know.” Garcia glances at her briefly, up and down, and then away. “What’s this about a wedding?”

“That’s the whole point of the app,” Lucy says pointedly. “Fake-married, take me to places that aren’t touristy, then at the end of the day, go our separate ways?”

Garcia looks briefly pole-axed, then seems to decide that right, well, this is on him for failing to read the terms and conditions. “Fine,” he says impatiently. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

Lucy’s cheeks sting. Making a mental note to give him a zero of five stars on any feedback form that she might have to fill in to rate her experience today, she follows him into the back, where they are joined in a very non-legally-binding ceremony, have their photo taken (Garcia looks like this is a real funeral rather than a fake wedding) and finally are released into the wild, as Garcia (who is a good foot taller than her) strides ahead without waiting. When Lucy runs to catch up, he says, “Nobody told me there was a wedding involved.”

“Did you even read what they wanted?” Lucy’s tone is slightly waspish, but then, he isn’t exactly showering her in that supposedly famous Slavic hospitality. The sweet lady at the Airbnb was much nicer than this. “It was right there in the entire premise. If you don’t want to spend a day taking me around the city, fine, but maybe next time, try to actually – ”

“No,” Garcia says abruptly. “You’re here now. Let’s go.”

With that, he strides off toward the gate in the towering walls, down into the Stari Grad. Lucy thinks the view from up there must be spectacular, but she’s not actually going to get a chance to find out, because Garcia derides them as too touristy and refuses to pay 200 kuna to go up them. (This is something like $30, so it clearly is a lot, but the city sees no reason not to profit off all the Game of Thrones fans.) Nor does he think much of the main drag, the cathedral square, the rector’s palace, or any of the other usual sights. He says that Lucy can call him Flynn, but doesn’t explain why. She thinks it’s his last name, but honestly, she can’t be sure. He has the social skills of a broken-down dump truck.

Finally, since there isn’t much of Dubrovnik, at least the old town, that isn’t touristy, Lucy persuades Flynn to let them go up the walls, though by the face he makes at the cashier as he pays for their tickets, the poor man might be found floating face-down in the ocean later. They climb up to the winding ramparts, gazing out over the Adriatic to one side and the crowded, tiled roofs on the other, and on one steep section, Lucy loses her footing and nearly falls. She wouldn’t have gone over the edge, there are plenty of barriers, but Flynn flashes out a hand and steadies her. It’s the first remotely human or non-dickish thing he’s done, and she raises an eyebrow. “Thanks.”

Perhaps sensing by her acerbic tone that he has not been the world’s most satisfactory fake husband to date, Flynn has the grace to blush, or at least look somewhat chagrined. “I’d definitely get in trouble if you died.”

“Thanks,” Lucy says again, even more tartly. “Guess it’s a good thing for you that you have good reflexes?”

“I fought in the Homeland War.” Flynn glances away. It’s the first personal thing he’s shared about himself, in a casual, offhand way that makes it sound no more remarkable than getting milk from the store. “Come on, let’s keep moving.”

Lucy glances at him. He’s made it clear that he’s not here for the fake marriage, let alone small talk, but she paid a decent amount of money to be here with this tall idiot and he can just suffer it. “Are you from Dubrovnik?”

“I was born in Šibenik.” Flynn doesn’t break stride, obliging Lucy to trot to keep up with him. “Lived a few places around the country. It was Yugoslavia back then, though. War started in 1991.”

“I know,” Lucy says. “I mean, I’m a historian, so I was recently doing some work on 1989 and the U.S. response to the dissolution of the Iron Curtain. Technically, Yugoslavia wasn’t Soviet, right?”

“No,” Flynn says, with a sort of grim pride. “Tito and Stalin hated each other. It was…. sort of an in-between place, I suppose. We didn’t need exit visas, there was a certain amount of social freedom, and Tito liked to market it as neutral, a third country between East and West, combining the best of both and the worst of neither. Of course, he was a dictator, but supposedly a benevolent one. Most people liked him. My childhood was – ” He stops. “Well, my mother was American, anyway. Maybe that was what drew her here. Running away.”

Lucy glances up at him. She has a sense that Flynn doesn’t often talk much about his past, and decides that since they are, after all, only fake-married, she doesn’t need to pry. However, since the subject of his mother has arisen, she holds back as best she can, not wanting to dump the fraught subject of Carol Preston on a strange man who has only just met her and treated her one step above gum stuck to his shoe, but finally needs to talk about it with someone who isn’t Amy. She still isn’t sure Flynn gives a damn, but too bad for him. She mentions that it’s been hard, with the Stanford legacy and the cancer and the expectations that she would accept Noah’s proposal, and she just – well, she doesn’t know. Maybe Lucy understands a bit of Flynn’s mother, whoever she was, whyever she came here. Maybe she too was, or is, running away. Even if she has to fly all the way back to San Francisco at the end of this week, some part of her would be more than happy to fling all her responsibilities to the wind, move into some picturesque old flat in one of those tiny streets, and stay.

They descend the walls after completing their circuit, and Flynn deigns to buy her lunch at a small cafe where the menu is only in Croatian and a sign informs customers that they don’t take euros, only kuna. Lucy allows him to order something for her, and they sit there eating in semi-awkward silence. Then Flynn says, apropos of nothing, “Maria.”

“What?”

“My mother’s name.” He shrugs. “It was Maria Tompkins. She was from Houston. She moved to Yugoslavia in 1970, after the death of her first husband and son. She was traveling through Europe, I don’t know that she intended to stay here, but she met my father, so she did.”

“Oh.” Lucy wonders what it would have been like here in the seventies. Probably still beautiful, though much less developed. So Maria Tompkins fell in love, that was what made a young American woman go Red, a move that must have been regarded dimly by her friends and family back in Texas. With that sort of tragedy shadowing her past, maybe it was easier to cut all ties, to get a new passport, to learn a new language, and never look back. Lucy feels a sudden pang of sympathy with this other woman, this unknown fellow traveler, who too found herself in this corner of the world wanting to leave it all behind. Lucy has responsibilities at home, not least her job (even if they didn’t give her tenure, or at least it’s very much in academic bureaucracy limbo), her sister, her sick mother, all the encumbrances and trappings of real life. She can’t do what Maria did, no matter how much she wants to. And for some reason completely unknown to her – it certainly isn’t the pleasure of Flynn’s company – she does.

They finish lunch and head out. It’s warm enough for November that Flynn suggests they can go for a dip, though he gives her a no-clearly-not look when Lucy naively thinks this will be at Banje Beach, the main spot just south of the walls. He leads her up to the street, where they find his car and get in. It’s an Audi, and she wonders what exactly he does for a living. He has a habit of scanning their surroudings, casually flicking his gaze at passersby, in a way that she doesn’t think stems from his military service alone. In fact, she’s starting to wonder if he joined the Untourist app to case the city and/or scope out people without it being too suspicious. Maybe it’s better for everyone if she doesn’t ask about his job. He might have to suffocate her and bundle her up in a black plastic garbage bag in the boot.

Flynn, it transpires, drives like a bit of a maniac, a habit he shares with most of the other road users (especially the scooters and motorcycles). Lucy has already noticed that Croatians seem to have a rather laissez-faire attitude toward personal safety, as evidenced by their tendency to stand outside guardrails overlooking steep drops, walk the wrong way along busy highways, dart across roads in front of oncoming traffic, and jury-rig anything that isn’t actively falling apart. When she mentions this to Flynn, he shrugs. “Slavs are like that,” he says matter-of-factly. “Especially Croatians. Though if you think we’re bad, you should meet the Poles.”

Lucy laughs despite herself, since that’s the first time Flynn has loosened up to flash any bit of actual humor. Well, that’s not quite true; he is remarkably sassy, has a sarcastic comment for most occasions and especially anything involving a tourist making a fool of themselves, but this is the first time that his humor has seemed gentler, more like he’s actually enjoying himself and poking a bit of self-deprecating fun rather than lashing out at the world. They drive along the cliff road for several miles in silence, until Lucy asks, “When did you move to Dubrovnik?”

“About…” Flynn hesitates, and she senses that there’s more riding on the answer to that question than he wants to let on. “Well, I lived in Zagreb until 2014.”

“And you moved here after that?”

“More or less.” Flynn adjusts the rearview mirror, which doesn’t really need it. After a long pause he says, “My wife and daughter died in 2014. I came here for – well, I didn’t want to stay there anymore.”

“I’m….” Lucy feels taken aback, almost guilty that she’s been so derisive of his inability to read app terms and conditions, his clear aversion to the whole fake-married part. Not that they’ve really been acting like it, anyway, but still. She can imagine it wouldn’t be easy for her, if that ever happened, to stand up and play-act some stupid charade for an American tourist hiring you like a beast of burden, not when you’d had the real thing, not when it was gone. “Garcia,” she says, the first time she’s used that since he told her to call him Flynn. She has a sense that he prefers that, that Garcia is some place too personal where he doesn’t let people go, not any longer. “I’m sorry.”

He glances at her, and for a moment she thinks he’ll snap at her, but he doesn’t. He keeps his eyes on the road, navigating the tight turns with ease, until at last he says, “I’m sorry I haven’t been very much fun.”

Lucy opens her mouth by polite reflex to say that he has, and settles for a noncommital hum. Flynn seems to sense that while he might have worked his way up from zero stars, he’s still a way off from five, and parks the Audi in a pullout. They descend a narrow cliff path to the sea, he reaches out to catch her arm when her feet skid again on the pebbles, and Lucy decides she should probably warn him that she’s clumsy before she really does accidentally kill herself. But if she fell into the sea from here, she has an unaccountable sense that he’d dive in after her, no matter how odd and brusque and grumpy he is. It’s less clear whether this is because he’s starting to like her a little, or because it would be an insult to his professional competence. Maybe he’s in the Mafia.

They reach a small quay where a catamaran is tied up, Flynn strides to it and produces two life jackets, and once Lucy has climbed aboard, he swings on, undoes the ropes, and angles the sails out into the wide blue water, endless as a reflected sky. It must be a busy harbor in summer, and there’s still a decent boat traffic now: ferries, jet-skis, a few sailboats and pleasure yachts. Lucy holds on tight as Flynn carves an expert white wake. “Is this your boat, then?”

“No,” Flynn says. “But I borrow it from time to time.”

“Did you – ” Lucy gives him a very narrow stare. “Did you steal this boat?”

“No!” Flynn looks miffed that she would ask. “I know the owner, he lets me use it when I want to. What kind of man do you think I am?”

Lucy opens her mouth, starts to answer, and stops. Truth is, she isn’t sure. An hour ago she would have said a raging, self-absorbed dick with no social skills and possibly black-market employment, and parts of that are still true, but the rest, well… she can’t say exactly. He keeps letting slip these odd, vulnerable parts of him, almost in spite of himself. His past in the war, his mother running away from her old life, his dead wife and daughter, everything else. She isn’t certain what she thinks of him, exactly, but she isn’t wishing that she picked Marko from Zagreb anymore. If nothing else, Flynn is complicated, and challenging, and oddly easy to talk to, and he hasn’t told her to shut up about the family/work/life drama that she occasionally returns to venting about. Lucy thinks she’ll take that, at least.

She looks at his hands, large and sun-brown and expertly pulling and tying the knots to trim the sail, as he pulls them to a bobbing halt in the sparkling water and asks if she wants to swim. Lucy didn’t put on her bathing suit under her clothes, but she doesn’t want to go to the bother of making him drive all the way back to the Airbnb. So she strips off her shirt and jeans, and, in just her bra and underpants (hey, they’re married, even fakely), she dives in.

The water is chillier than she expected – this is the southern Mediterranean, it’s never cold no matter the season, but it is November, and she splutters and gasps as she bobs to the surface. Flynn, observing from the high-and-dry comfort of the catamaran, smirks at her, and Lucy gives him the finger. “You dick,” she shouts. “You could have warned me.”

Flynn shrugs, apparently utterly untroubled either by this accusation or by her attitude; indeed, he grins as if he appreciates this feistiness, her willingness to talk back at him and tell it like it is. Lucy spends so much time biting her tongue around absolutely everyone else that this reaction is both unexpected and deeply liberating, and once she’s swum around the catamaran a few times and adjusted to the water temperature, she takes a deep breath and dives down under the pontoons. Then she surfaces on the far side, reaches up, and just as Flynn senses danger and whips around, she grabs him by the back of the shirt and jerks him backward.

He’s wearing a life jacket, of course, so he doesn’t go too far under, but the expression on his face is worth every penny that she paid to the stupid app. He shakes his wet hair like a dog as he surfaces, and she has to say, he looks really good while doing it. “Excuse me,” he says, in a tone of deep umbrage. “Who told you that it was a good idea to start a marriage off by throwing your husband in the drink?”

“Maybe if I’m drowning you for the life insurance,” Lucy shoots back, before she can stop herself. She has no idea who this woman is, who has gone from being exasperated and shut off with Flynn to – well, she did in fact just throw him in the ocean, but there’s definitely something different about their dynamic now. It wouldn’t be a stretch to call it flirty, whether or not this is listed in Untourist’s terms and conditions (and as well established, Flynn did not read them anyway). “After all, I think we can say that you deserve it. Tragic boating accident?”

Too late, she wonders if this is a bad idea to joke about, since she doesn’t actually know how his wife and daughter died (she hopes it wasn’t that, anyway) but Flynn actually laughs, and it transforms his whole face. They spend a very enjoyable forty minutes swimming around, splashing each other, and hanging onto the side of the catamaran and letting their legs sway in the current. They’re close alongside each other as they do, Lucy is conscious of only being in her wet underwear (it’s not like he can see anything while she’s submerged, but still), and something passes between them as their eyes meet. His throat moves as he swallows, and after a moment too long, he looks away.

They climb back on the boat, Flynn looses the sail and steers them back toward land, and they disembark, Lucy once more watching for investigative purposes as he ties up. They dry off and she pulls on her damp clothes, as Flynn decorously turns his back and waits until she is done. Then they tramp up the bluff to the car (Lucy was thinking about retiring here, since it’s warm and sunny and beautiful and all that, but if she is elderly, all the climbing might be too much) and drive back toward the town center. The sun is getting low, her paid-for day is almost done, and despite the total disaster that was it starting out, Lucy is oddly reluctant for it to do so. As Flynn pulls up in front of the Untourist office, she says convulsively, “Maybe we should… I don’t know. I think they’re closed, anyway. You don’t have to drop me off here.”

Flynn glances at her, then considers it. He could offer to just take her back to her Airbnb (those streets really were not designed for sane drivers, and Lucy can see why tiny Smart cars are popular around here, but Flynn would absolutely not fit into one) and he still might. Then he says, “Well, technically, the day isn’t over. Do you suppose I could take you out for dinner?”

“You….” Lucy coughs. “I suppose you could.”

They find parking, and walk down into the old town, as the moon is rising over the walls, the towers are floodlit, the city gleams in the cooling dusk like its nickname, the “Pearl of the Adriatic,” and they find another cafe where the clientele is mostly local. They linger late over dinner, and Flynn says that he will in fact drive her back when they’re finally done, and as she’s about to undo her seatbelt and get out, Lucy hesitates. Then she screws up her courage, leans over, and kisses him very fast on the cheek. “Thank you,” she says. “I had – I really did have a great time.”

Flynn looks as surprised as her to hear it, but somehow and shyly gratifeid as well. A fugitive smile plays at the corner of his mouth, tentative, tender. For a moment, she thinks he might be about to kiss her back for real, but he clears his throat and holds out his hand instead. “Er,” he says. “Thank you, Dr. Preston.”

Lucy hesitates, fighting her disappointment, and shakes it back. Then she steps out of the car and unlocks the door of the apartment, as he waits to see that she gets inside without random Ragusan fiends materializing from the shrubbery. Even when she does step in, the car idles a few more moments, and she glances back, wondering – or perhaps it’s only hoping – that he’s chastising himself for letting her walk away. Then the car starts again, she can see his dark figure sitting too stiff and straight at the wheel, and she watches until the taillights vanish around a steep turn, and fade into the night.

#lucy x flynn #garcy #garcy ff #croatia 2k19 #extasiswings #ask

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queenborhapreaderships · 6 years ago

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rekindling the flame - chapter 1

Hey everybody! So this is that rami x reader (with a dash of freddie feels) I was talking about earlier! It’s not done, so I guess this is chapter 1? I’ve never cut a fic into chapters before because I’m a stubborn perfectionist but like. Eh. Ya know? Thanks to everyone who told me to go ahead and post this! Also, if anybody would be interested in a tag list, hit me up. I’ve never done one before but I think I can grasp the concept, haha! Anyways, here we go! (pls let me know if you like it, fr)

-description-

You're the daughter of Jim Hutton, so growing up was a roller coaster. With Freddie as practically a second father, things were never boring. But time passed and things changed. Everything changed. Not knowing how to process any of your past, you flee to the states in an attempt to write music and find yourself. It pretty much turns into instant isolation! That all changes when you get a call from your Uncle Bri about a movie being made on Freddie. Secrets come to light and you just might find yourself falling in love with the boy with the beautiful eyes along the way.

-word count- 2,987

ao3 link

You’re alone when you get the call. You’re alone a lot these days, but you work best without the distraction of friends pulling you out to party and get drunk every other night. Besides, you really want to focus on this latest song you’ve been writing. You just can’t seem to get the bridge right, the chord progression is off in the tiniest way and for the life of you, you can’t figure out why. Suffice to say it’s been driving you absolutely mad.

Your eyes light up when you strum the new experimental chord you’ve thrown in, but you’re interrupted by the harsh ringtone of your cell.

“Goddammit” you mumble to yourself and sigh as you put your guitar down on top of its case. You look over and feel yourself involuntarily smiling at the contact name. It’s Uncle Bri, you wonder what he’s up to these days. It’s been a while since you’ve heard from him. Too long, actually. That’s hardly his fault, you’re aware of the fact that you’re isolating yourself but you really can’t really garner up the energy to care, as bad as it sounds. You pull yourself out of your thoughts and reach over to answer the phone.

“Hey, Uncle Bri!”

“(y/n)! I’m glad I got a hold of you! How are you doing, my dear? We miss you!”

“Aww, I miss you guys too! I can’t complain! I’ve been working on my music a lot, so that’s been taking up the majority of my life at the moment” you sigh, suddenly wishing you’d have managed your time better. You really do miss your goofy Uncles.

“Ahhh, just like good ol’ Freddie, I see” you can hear the smile toying with his voice.

“I wouldn’t go as far as to say that”

“Well, I would,” he says triumphantly. “Anyways, do you have any serious, unmovable plans for the next, oh, say 8 or so months?” you can hear the grin in his voice.

“Um, not that I know of...” you say, although it comes out more as of a question

“Perfect! Then I’ll be flying you over here to the UK pronto. You’ve got work to do” he says and hangs up in a haste.

You pull the phone down and stare at it. That was. Odd.

It’s not until later you realize that this is all for that movie that you’ve been hearing rumors about for months. You weren’t sure if it was actually happening or not, you feel like you definitely should have considering who you are, but Uncle Bri certainly wouldn’t be uprooting your life for anything unimportant. You’ve settled into a nice routine over in the states. For a movie this important though, this central to who you are, you’d be upset if you weren’t involved.

~~~~

If you were being completely honest with yourself, you don’t remember as much about your father’s partner as you wish you did. Let’s be real though, he was practically your second dad, he raised you until you were almost seven. You have faint memories of calling him papa. Your dad didn’t love it at first, he was probably worried about what Freddie thought. He, of course, absolutely adored it and as well as he adored you. So, papa, he was.

The memories you do have, you wouldn’t trade for the world. For the entire world. Some of your favorites were Freddie making you breakfast and cuddling on the couch. He would always read to you before bed and find your favorite stuffed bear before tucking you in and pecking your forehead. Sometimes, your favorite nights, he would sing you to sleep. You were probably too old for lullabies, but Freddie never failed to deliver, not even towards the end. His favorite song to sing you was I Was Born to Love You. He sang it slow and soft, making sure you took every word to heart. Sometimes you dream about it, wishing for just one more day together with the two of them.

You don’t have much to do on the hellish flight ahead of you, so you pull up the folder you keep on your phone of pictures of your dad and Freddie. They looked just as happy as they were. You smile as you scroll through them, pictures the world hasn’t seen. Pictures of the two with their cats, pictures of all three of you together.

You feel your eyes mist up when you get to one of your favorites. At first glance, it appears to be the most mundane thing in the world, but to you it’s everything. Freddie’s balancing you on his hip and he’s got his other arm wrapped around your father, kissing his cheek.

“Oh, fuck” you mutter under your breath, tearing yourself away from the grainy image. You’re finally realizing just how difficult consulting on this movie is actually going to be. You miss your dad and you miss Freddie more than words can say.

You never really dealt with your fathers' death nearly a decade ago. Freddie’s death probably messed you up in more ways that you’re even able to conceptualize because you were so young at the time. He was just a part of you. A part of your history. A part of who you were and who you are.

You’ve got a lot of shit to work through, and god, you hope you’ll be able to hold it together for just a while longer. This movie is important to the two most important people to you. You’re certainly not going to ruin your chance at making it the best it can be because you can’t look at the main character of the film without losing it.

You swallow the lump in your throat and reach down to rummage through your bag for your headphones. You close the photos app and pull up Spotify instead. Zoning out and distracting yourself with music is always how you’ve dealt with the brunt of your emotional issues since practically the beginning of time. The second the first note rings out, you feel a weight lift off of your shoulders and you sigh in relief as you settle in for a long ride.

~~~

You’re pretty damn sure that finally getting off the stuffy plane and stretching your legs is the best feeling in the world. You’re instantly proven wrong though when you spot your uncles waiting for you. They’ve got a dorky sign with “(y/n) Hutton” scrawled across it with a few shaky hearts at the bottom. You can’t help but chuckle, your heart swelling at the gesture.

You quicken your pace and when they notice you barreling towards them, your clunky bags in tow, their faces light up. Their sign and your suitcases are instantly ditched in place of Uncle Rog opening his arms up for you to crash into. Of course, you do, without a second thought and you hold on tight. It feels like if you don’t, he’ll disappear right out from under you.

“Oh, love, how are you? How are you, really?” Uncle Rog says, pulling you away from him to study your face. You sheepishly avoid eye contact, aware that these two know you better than most.

“You know, we do worry about you. More than you think.” Uncle Bri chimes in, responding to your silence. He then reaches over and takes his turn to pull you into a hug. You close your eyes and bury your head in his shoulder. You barely muster the strength needed to keep your voice from shaking.

“I know. I just missed you guys, is all” you break away and get your bearings together. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the two sharing a skeptical glance, but luckily they drop it for now.

~~~

To say the studio was huge would be an understatement. You’d never dealt with anything this major in your entire life, sure you’d been going to your Uncle’s concerts since you were little. That was different though, that was second nature. Music has always been second nature. This? This is a different world, man. There are more… rules. You’ve never been one for rules.

So far, you’ve been introduced to a lot of the key players in the movie, big execs and such. They’ve all been very graceful and polite if not slightly intimidated by you, which you find hilarious. You still haven’t met any of the actors yet, but you’d been given their names and have already done extensive googling. They all seem like the perfect people for the parts.

You’d actually seen a bit of Rami, Freddie’s actor’s, work in the past. The Night at the Museum trilogy is a goddamn classic and your friends have forced you to watch a couple of episodes of Mr. Robot. So you’re definitely excited, if not a little nervous, to meet the boys.

It’s almost like the universe can read your mind because when you and your uncles turn the corner, there they are. You can tell they’ve met before because Rami, and if you remember correctly, Joe are waving and they all walk over.

“(y/n), you haven’t met the boys yet, have you?” Uncle Bri asks, and before you have the time to answer, he’s introducing you to them respectively. You do your best to remember who is who, it shouldn’t be too hard but this would not be a great situation to slip up. There’s Ben, Joe, Gwilym, and finally, you reach Rami.

His eyes are even more striking in person. You think he’s saying something but you can’t hear a word of it. A poke on your shoulder pulls you out of your trance and you realize you’ve been staring at him for a longer amount of time than would be considered socially acceptable. You glance over at Uncle Bri, a thanks for snapping you out of whatever that was.

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry! Zoned out there for a second, it was a long flight” you grin and do your best to sound casual but you’re definitely rattled from your mistake. You almost let out a sigh of relief when you see Rami’s warm smile.

“Don’t worry about it, I totally understand. You flew in from the states, right? That ten-hour flight can be brutal” you nod and he continues. “Anyways, I was just saying how much of an honor it is to be playing Freddie and if there’s anything you ever need or want to talk in regards of the script or characterization, I’m always here. You probably have more influence than me when it comes to that actually, but the offer is always on the table! The same goes for all of us.” He gestures at his castmates and they all nod accordingly. He sounds incredibly sincere and it’s impossible not to grin.

“I really appreciate that, guys. I’m here if any of you need anything too! If you need help going over your lines or if you have any questions about my uncles, dad or my experience with Freddie as a father figure, I’d be more than happy to let you in on everything I know” You’re not, that may be a bit of an exaggeration, but why else are you here?

You hear a chorus of thank you’s and wave at them as they rush off to hair and makeup, already late. You look down and try to swallow a smile, you’d be lying to yourself if you tried to pretend it wasn’t endearing. The three of you continue down your path and you feel Uncle Rog bump into you.

“You okay, (y/n)?” he says, trying poorly to hide his shit-eating grin. Oh god, what does he think he knows now?

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired…” you taper off when you notice the look the two give each other.

“Okaaay, whatever you say,” he says in a sing-songy voice. You groan and roll your eyes.

“Well I don’t know about you two, but I’m gonna go explore the set,” you say, trying to get a minute to yourself. It’s just all been a little overwhelming and the last thing you need is your uncles scheming over whatever it is they’re scheming over because if there’s anything you know, it’s that look.

“Have fun, love. We’ll be here if you need us” Uncle Bri reminds you for the thousandth time. You thank him and wander off on your own.

~~~

As the days go by, you fall into a routine. They don’t need you there at a specific time so you definitely consider yourself lucky in that regard. All of the actors have to be at hair and makeup typically at around 6. You shuffle in at a comfortable 10, say hi to anyone who isn’t currently working on a scene, and hide away in one of the back rooms with the writers.

The script has already been put out of course, but they still meet every day to talk about potential revisions or go over their work with the rest of the cast and crew. While definitely on different sides of the globe from each other, what they do isn’t very far from what you do. At least it’s on the same planet. Which would be a first in this new world of Hollywood. So you’d say things are going pretty smoothly. You haven’t yet had to dig deep and reveal anything about yourself or your history that you didn’t want to.

Of course, though, the universe can’t let you stay comfortable for very long. It needs to have its fun in throwing you for a loop just once you think you’ve got things figured out. This loop comes in the form of none other than Rami Malek. At first, that is.

It starts like any other day. You come into the studio in your baggy hoodie, with your messy hair strewn everywhere, and your headphones in with the volume up as loud as it will go. You yawn and scrub at your eyes. You were up pretty late working on that same damn song, it’s just been eating away at you. The day you figure out how that bridge works will be a goddamn national holiday in your book. You groan and continue down the winding hallways.

When Rami comes up behind you and taps your shoulder, you jump out of your skin and your soul just about leaves your body. You rip your headphones out and turn around to see him giggling like a toddler and you gasp, grasping your chest dramatically.

Your heart flutters at the carefree expression on his face and you swallow down and try to ignore the emotions so obviously bubbling up to the surface. You can’t help but stare though, it’s not your fault that he’s absolutely breathtaking. You’re confident that his jawline could cut steel. This time, your admiration slides and he doesn’t notice because he’s still pulling himself together after the little incident.

He’s wearing Freddie’s angry lizard jacket and he’s got the fake teeth in. He’s the spitting image of Freddie and it honestly would have been a little jarring if it weren’t for him being so warm and open, squashing any possible nerves you may have before they even have the time to fully form.

“Sorry!” he chokes out, swallowing the last of his giggles. “I really didn’t mean to scare you, I thought you heard me walking up, but I guess not,” he says and gestures at your headphones dangling down and twirling together.

“Jesus Christ, Rami. You do know that you almost killed me, right? I literally almost died right here!” you say, still playing it up a little bit. You can’t keep a straight face for long though and break eye contact to laugh under your breath. “Anyways, what’s up? I haven’t seen you in a while! You look great, I must say” you point out, referencing the outfit.

“I always look great, darling,” he says, putting on Freddie’s accent. You raise your arms in surrender and he shoots you a grin. Suddenly he’s Rami again, just like that. “So I’ve got that one big scene tomorrow and I feel like something is off with my performance and I just can’t put my finger on it. I was wondering if you were free later tonight after we’re done shooting to go over the script with me?” you’re not sure if he’s doing it on purpose, but he’s giving you the biggest puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen.

“Oh, I know that feeling,” you say, thinking back to your stupid song. Maybe you can play it for him and get his input? You quickly brush off the thought, this is about him, not you. “And of course! I’d love to!” You can’t even pretend you aren’t honored and a little excited to see him later. Even though you’ve fallen in love with your little routine, you have a real soft spot for this boy.

“Perfect! I can’t wait to see you then” he waves as he walks off. You wave back and once he’s turned the corner, you can’t contain your giddiness. Before you know it, you’re hopping and -hopefully- internally squealing like a schoolgirl. He’s just so cute, okay? It’s not fair. It shouldn’t be legal.

~~~

You spend the rest of your day curled up in the bean bag chair in the corner of the writers' room going over a thousand different scenarios in your head, both eagerly and anxiously awaiting the end of filming. You’ve really been thrown for a loop here, going from total isolation to the midst of practically a high school crush. You’re not even entirely sure why, there’s just something about him. You’re not quite sure whether you like it or not, but there’s one thing you do know. Denying it won’t get you anywhere, you’ve been down that road before.

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