#but apparently it is anyway i’m done being a drama queen for the day

[labyrinthofsphinx]

Statistical Outliers

Part 8 of drabble. Short one, between doddles. Val's in this one, but he's pretty tame all things considered.

He didn’t get to spend too much time with the kid after that. He didn’t even need to tell Vel that she shouldn’t have left him alone. Apparently, she thought he was right behind her. See, this is why it’s sometimes a good idea to look up from your phone every once in a while, to make sure you didn’t lose anything you might miss later.

Anyways, the kid ended up with her most of the day, which meant he was more than ready for his tryst with Val later. Oh, and he kept to his promise. It will be a miracle if he can make it out of bed tomorrow. Val’s going to be such a drama queen later, barking Vox around and causing hell for his hand girls. He’ll moan about how it was all Vox’s fault…then he’ll beg him to do it again.

He might’ve unintentionally given Angel the day off. Ironically, it might be the only time he’d want to come back to work, to check on the kid again.

He was lying there in bed now, stuck on the one thing he didn’t get done today. Vel was happy and apologetic in her own way. Val was snoozing beside him, any argument forgotten about back when the handcuffs were still on. His sales were through the roof. His brand was on cloud nine in everyone’s minds.

Hell, he even managed, despite literally doing everything in his power to stop it, to get attached to something that wasn’t involved in his work or his power. Not that he wasn’t attached to Velvette and Valentino, mind you. But in the labyrinth of his schemes, it made sense to get attached to them. They weren’t all just together because they were cuddle buddies or some nonsense like that. They made each other stronger, better. Yeah, he pulls a lot of the heavy lifting for consolidating that power, but it wouldn’t be at his fingertips without them. Certainly not as easily. So, in his head, he accounted for getting attached to them.

He didn’t count on that silly talking hairball.

He serves no purpose. Vox gains nothing from him being around. He knows he’s a momentary distraction, at best. In fact, he might just be a detriment to everything he’s built. He almost caused a Val versus Vel fight. He did cause a Val versus Vox fight. He almost landed Vox with an extended Angel problem. And he most certainly was going to be an issue with Alastor going forward. Why his rival hasn’t come knocking is beyond him. He didn’t think he was stupid enough not to at least guess, even if Angel was sworn to silence.

But, well, he got attached. How stupid is that?

Val stole more of the blanket and turned over, brushing Vox with the tips of his wings.

“Val?”

“Hmm?”

He was a pretty light sleeper all things considered. Must be another moth thing.

“Don’t ever talk to the kid again. That shit was creepy.”

Val made a scoff sound into his pillow.

“Obviously. That’s what I was trying to do.”

“You were trying to sound like a creep?” That didn’t sound any better. He does know that, right? He hopes so.

“Oh, come, Vox. You know there’s nothing fun about kids. They’re stupid and smelly and not mature enough to enjoy anything. Like a bunch of ugly caterpillars. It takes time to turn into this!”

He spread his wings out, almost shoving Vox off the bed.

“Damn it, Val.”

He laughed.

“Sorry, couldn’t help it.” He leaned over a bit, transfixed now on Vox’s bright screen in an otherwise dark room. “I was just getting a rise out of Angel, that’s all.”

“…we really need to get him under contract.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t yet. Don’t tell me he…outfoxed you?”

“Don’t ever fucking say that again.”

He practically purred with delight. A hand reached over and started toying with the sides of his screen. Vox knew he was tracing over the parts he bashed in before, probably still wondering how he managed to fix it. He hadn’t told him about the kid’s talents. As far as anyone was concerned, he was a cute face and that’s it. The rest was a selfishly guarded secret.

“Well, I can’t help you there, Voxy. As I said, I don’t do kids.”

They never talked about it, but Vox wonders how that could possibly be true. With Val being, well, Val, there was a distinct zero chance he didn’t have a kid topside. Hell, they might still be walking around. Val could very well be a grandfather. What a terrifying thought.

“He’s seen too much to be scared, and nothing I offered him was tempting enough.” He groaned. “The only thing I can think of is blackmail. Angel’s the only one we’ve got to toy with, and he’d just tell him not to do it.”

“Oh, you’re adorable when you’re angry.”

“I mean it, Val.” Why in the hell did he think Val would have any answers? This was a waste of time.

“So do I. I know kids aren’t my thing, but they’re definitely yours.”

Did…did just say what he thought he said?

“…that sounds like an insult.”

“It’s not. Just something I noticed. I mean, look at Velvette.”

Okay, this conversation was going from bad to worse.

“…what about Velvette?”

“Well, she’s a stubborn, independent young lady. And you like how she handles herself. But I see how you act when she’s being a little young in the head. I mean, I know you say that this whole thing was for those headsets of yours, but I think we both know that they’ve would’ve sold just fine without her. You wanted to make her happy.”

“…you know you almost sound smart. How many brownies did you eat?”

“Make fun all you want. It’s the truth.” He said with the slightest amount of sneer. Val always knew how to get under his skin. “This kid? He’s just something small and pathetic that you’re projecting on.”

“I am not!”

“No? Then it shouldn’t be an issue to be the big bad guy tomorrow.” He folded himself back into the sheets, turning to leave Vox alone again. “I know how evil you really are. If you really wanted to scare the kid, he’d never sleep again.”

With that, it was just Vox and the night once more. While Val wasn’t typically a fountain of knowledge…he was right about this. The gloves had been on this whole time. Even before, when he was angry, he hadn’t really done much more than look and sound mean. He threatened, sure, but that wasn’t the same as actually trying it. He could hold the kid out over the shark tank, that was a classic, very James Bond-y. He could give him a jolt, not enough to disfigure, but enough for pain. He could strap him to a chair and sit him in front of a hypnotic gaze until his head felt like mush.

God, even saying it…thinking it. Worse, what if it still didn’t work? What if the only thing he got from doing this was a pathetic cry? What if he just broke down? What then?

Much as pained him to a degree, he needed to break him. He needed to make that sliver of hope die. He needed him desperate and terrified. But how?

Hold on.

He tapped into the security feed from yesterday, something he had said coming back to mind. He’d spent some time in Hell constantly dying, only just falling out of that cycle. Didn’t he mention something about dogs?

That was simple enough. It wasn’t like he was going to run out of hellhounds that work for him, or even sinners who ended up dogs for one reason or another. He could bring him down to the conference room. There was nothing in there, nowhere to run or hide. Then it would just be an ultimatum.

An invitation popped up on his screen. He was asked to join a game of Asteroids.

The kid was still up, his cameras told him. Sitting by the TV, he must’ve figured out how the game system works.

He had no idea. How could he? He did try to warn him. They weren’t friends.

When Vox entered the load screen via his head, he found a little green triangle ship spinning around his little blue one. He was doing figure eights until Vox finally got up and moved. Soon, the game loaded. Little Martian men started to invade as their tiny ships weaved and dodged though asteroid belts.

Vox was good at video games, especially Asteroids. He got addicted to it at one point. It was a problem, one that saw him purge it from the mainframe up until recently. He knew every trick in the book. Any ordinary day, and he’d be out there doing donuts around the bosses of the game. But his heart wasn’t in it. He kept dying to stupid things: a random blast, a suicidal alien craft, an obvious obstacle.

It was about twenty rounds in when the game got stuck on the pause screen.

A quick look at the lounge, and he found the kid staring at one of the cameras.

“Are you okay?” He asked it.

He had the camera nod.

“Are you lying to me?”

He had the camera nod again.

“Do you want a muffin?”

He snickered, despite himself.

The camera shook for ‘no’.

“Was that a lie too?”

You know what, he could go for a muffin.

Another nod.

“Is Val gonna kill me if I sneak in to bring it to you?”

He looked over at Val. He was unconscious. Sure, they were both undressed but he doesn’t think that’d be a surprise considering how Vel had made a face when the kid had asked where Vox was earlier that night. Also, what was there to see that he hadn’t seen already, even if Val did decide to randomly stand up. This is Hell. Odds are the kid’s seen naked people before. Still, he reached over and grabbed his own underwear, at least.

He shook the camera for ‘no’ once more.

About thirty or so minutes later, the scent of muffin filled the room. The kid was surprisingly quiet. He’d think with how awkward he looked, he’d move just as badly. Yet, had it not been for his infrared cameras and the smell of fresh baked delight, he probably wouldn’t have known he was there. Like a creature coming out from under the bed, a tray rose up from the darkness, muffin placed right in the middle.

He snapped it up. It was still good, still warm and sweet.

Vox flicked one of his absurdly large ears, and he giggled as he pulled it out of range of another attack.

“Hey!” He said in the quietest voice Vox has ever heard. Had his audio receivers not been so tuned, there’s no way he could’ve heard him.

Just as he was about to wave the kid away, Valentino rose from the bed like the goddamn crypt keeper. Vox’s screen accidentally blanked out his face, so he looked part zombie.

“Where’s my goddamn muffin?”

Vox didn’t want to share, but asking Valentino to wait patiently while another muffin is made was not an option. Well, he could always get up and-

“It spontaneously burst into flame.”

I..huh? Did…did he have a fire to put out in the kitchen or what? The kid’s tone was dead serious. Probably the only time he’s ever sounded serious about anything.

A quick glance over though, and he was greeted to a sight he’s never seen before. The kid’s face was pinched in a scowl. He almost looked mad. It was so stupid looking. It was like watching a teddy bear trying to snarl.

“Well, why does he get one?” Val huffed, indignant.

“Probably because the muffins don’t light themselves on fire to get away from him.”

Vox was fucking dying. He couldn’t even eat his muffin. He was laughing too hard. The kid, unceremoniously, walked out. And Val turned around and hit him on the shoulder until he stopped.

“See, this is why I don’t like kids.” Val grumbled, before dropping down back into bed.

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5/ Part 6/ Part 7/ Part 8/ Part 9/ Part 10

[apathyfairy]

i know everyone hates cmbyn but “if i could have him like this in my dreams every night of my life, i’d stake my entire life on dreams and be done with the rest” is still too raw

[e-milieeee]

blindspot—adrinette

Summary: Marinette’s pretty sure she’s done something to make Adrien Agreste hate her. Why else is he glaring at her every time he sees her.

Meanwhile, Adrien’s slowly going nearsighted (his father’s genes, probably) and the only way he can see Marinette with full clarity is by squinting aggressively. 

Notes: biggest thank you to @emsylcatac and @chocoluckchipz for reading through for me ily 😭 

basically this entire fic is adrinette being the dumb clowns they are :’) anyway ‘tis two pre-reveal pre-relationship dummies

Read on AO3

Marinette Dupain-Cheng created a group chat with Alya Cesaire, Nino Lahiffe. [12:48] Marinette hey guys, has Adrien been off these past couple of days? [13:03] Nino No, why? What happened? [13:04] Alya he seemed pretty normal when i talked to him so… i dont think so?? [13:04] Marinette oh great haha that’s great [13:05] Alya marinette? u ok? marinette? are u texting us from the washroom? im coming to find you

___ Marinette doesn’t know where it went wrong, which is the worst sort of it-went-wrongs. All she knows is that Adrien Agreste had glared at her when he passed her down the hall, which means that she made him hate her. Oh God, he hates her. He hates her. Everything is ruined. Her life is ruined. The fifty-two gifts she still has stored for Adrien. Their hamsters. Their future. It’s all doomed.

“Tikki,” she hisses at her purse. “Can you keep a lookout next time I walk by him so you can confirm whether or not he’s glaring—hide!” The door swings open as Alya heads inside. She raises an eyebrow at Marinette. “You good?” Marinette lets out a sigh of relief. “It’s just Alya,” she tells Tikki, who pokes her head back out. Her friend raises an eyebrow at her. “What’s this with Adrien? And why are you hiding in the washroom?” “She thinks Adrien hates her,” Tikki supplies helpfully. “Apparently he’s been glaring at Marinette every time she walks towards him.” Alya’s eyebrows go even higher. “Seriously?” Marinette groans. “Yes. I thought I saw it wrong the first time, but he did it again.” “How is he… glaring at you?” “Like…” She waves her hands, trying to figure out how to describe it. In the end, Marinette tilts her chin down and squints aggressively up at Alya, because it’s the best imitation she can think of. Alya promptly bursts out laughing. Marinette gasps at the betrayal. “This is serious!” “Girl, there is no way Adrien is looking at you like that. Seriously. Do that again and look in the mirror.” Marinette does so. Fine—she has to admit her expression is a bit more exaggerated than what she’d seen on Adrien’s face, but it still doesn’t change the fact that he has been glaring at her, just in a slightly more subtle way. “I’m serious, Alya,” she whines, latching onto her friend’s arm and shaking it. “I really think I did something to make him mad at me, but I can’t figure out what it was. Maybe… maybe it’s because I didn’t bake him a passionfruit macaron last week? Or maybe it’s because I tripped over his bag on Tuesday? Wait, no, maybe it’s because I didn’t make him a present for his half-year-birthday—” “Marinette,” Alya breaks in, “calm down. You know Adrien wouldn’t get upset for you at those things. You dumped yogurt on his head by accident and he wasn’t mad. Also, he doesn’t even know you bake him passionfruit macarons because you don’t give them to him.” “So why is he mad at me?” she wails. “We don’t know if he’s mad at you yet.” Alya pats her head. “C’mon, drama queen, let’s go back to class and see if we can figure it out.”

___

The rest of the day proceeds as normal. Adrien is normal as well—at least, he doesn’t glare at her. Marinette is beginning to stick with the interpretation that all the stress with being the guardian has caused her to hallucinate his reaction and she’d worked herself into a panic for nothing when it happens again. This time, she’s heading down the stairs. Which is particularly unfortunate, because Adrien is standing at the bottom, clutching an armful of books. Marinette’s about to wave at him when he dips his head ever so slightly and narrows his eyes at her. She misses her next step and crashes down. Marinette’s pretty sure she would’ve knocked her teeth out if Adrien hadn’t caught her. Either way, the fall down the stairs isn’t a particularly short one, and she’s aware enough of her surroundings to take note of the fact that Adrien has dropped all of his books in order to stop her tumble. She ends up sprawled on top of Adrien in a tangle of limbs, with her face much too close to his for comfort. Marinette flinches and tries to scramble away, except part of their clothing has gotten clipped together and the force yanks her down again. Her forehead knocks against Adrien’s, hard.  

Kill me now kill me now kill me now kill me now kill me now. “Ow,” she manages aloud, three seconds from bursting into tears. Marinette wants the ground to swallow her up whole, except if it were going to swallow her right now it would have to swallow Adrien too, meaning she can never get away from him. “Wait, don’t move,” Adrien says, voice right next to her ear, and oh my god help— By some miracle, Marinette manages to stop struggling. She can feel Adrien carefully undoing whatever tangle they’d gotten themselves into, and she wonders if he can hear her heart pounding right in her throat, because that’s what it feels like. The butterflies in her stomach are gone, having evolved into a herd of stampeding elephants. If she had a mirror right now, her face would be royal purple. “Okay,” Adrien finally says softly, and Marinette is at her absolute miserablest. “I think it’s good now.” She picks herself up and away from Adrien at the speed of light, and he gets to his feet as well. “I’m so sorry,” she somehow manages to stammer out, “I’m so, so sorry, I’m madly clumsy and I’ve been all over the place because of you—ackph, no, not you, I mean—I mean, I’m all over the place and I hope you’re not hurt and that I didn’t ruin your beautif—I mean, I hope you’re not hurt!” Smooth, Marinette. He hates you now. Definitely. She summons up enough courage to peek up at his face. Adrien doesn’t look mad, just a bit dazed. “It’s okay, Marinette,” he tells her in that ever-patient voice, green eyes crinkling at the corners. “Accidents happen. Are you hurt anywhere?” He cannot be looking at her like that. The maximum heart rate for somebody her age is two-hundred beats per minute, and Marinette is dead certain hers has jumped to at least three-hundred. Because after all that glaring, Adrien Agreste is looking at her with ridiculously soft, gorgeous green eyes, and she’s going to cry because it’s so confusing. “I’m fine!” she yelps, then practically bolts. It’s only after she gets home, and after at least twelve replays of what had transpired, that Marinette remembers the books Adrien had dropped to catch her. The books that had ended up scattered on the ground; the books that she hadn’t even helped him pick up. Her substantial-sized kwami audience witnesses her screaming into her pillow.

___

A couple of graphs and serious analysis later, Marinette heads to school the next day deciding that Adrien can’t be mad at her. He hadn’t seemed mad when she’d literally knocked him over, just concerned. And was incredibly patient and kind and unfairly attractive. Yup. That was it. But when she walks into the classroom with Adrien already there, he does the exact same thing: dips his head, narrows his eyes, and glares at her. Marinette’s heart drops from her chest to her stomach and promptly stops beating. She thinks she manages to squeak out, “Washroom!” before running, but she can’t even be sure about that.

___

“He is glaring at me,” Marinette laments to Alya after recounting every single detail of what had happened when she crashed down the stairs, “it’s happened four times already! I know I messed up somehow and he hates me now, but what do I even do? Alya, what can I even say to him? Maybe I can just transfer. Maybe maman will homeschool me. Maybe I can move to China? No, I wouldn’t survive there, I’d need a translator. Adrien was my translator before this! Alya, help!” Alya pats her head sympathetically. “No need to get ahead of yourself. Let’s figure out why he’s glaring at you first, if he even is in the first place.” “He definitely is.” “We’ll see,” comes the reply.

___

“Okay,” Alya concludes half a day later as they sit in Marinette’s room. “He definitely is.” Marinette can’t even say see, I’m right and feel good about it. She groans. “I told you so has never felt worse.” “But he doesn’t seem mad,” Alya muses. “Like, apart from that squinting thing he does at you, he still acts pretty normal, right? It’s not like he’s ignoring you or anything like that.” “Yes, but it’s like every time I walk up to Adrien he glowers at me, so maybe it’s his way of telling me he hates me and doesn’t want me around him, but he’s too polite to say it to my face. So when I actually approach him, he forces himself to be nice.” “That’s far fetched, and you know it.” Marinette both hates the fact that Alya was being the voice of reason and appreciates it at the same time. She knows the conclusions she’s jumping to are irrational, but Adrien’s behaviour is still weird no matter how she thinks of it, and there are no logical explanations. She plants her face into her best friend’s shoulder. “This is miserable.” “Maybe you could ask him as Ladybug?” Marinette snorts. “And do what? Hey Adrien, a mutual friend of a friend of mine wanted me to ask you why you’ve been glaring at Marinette Dupain-Cheng? Yeah, that girl. The one in your class. If you could let me know, then I could tell them, and they could tell Marinette so she doesn’t overthink herself to death. Thanks!” “Okay, maybe not. But we’ll figure it out.” Alya reaches for her phone. “Honestly, I can ask him.” “Don’t!” Marinette screeches, and attempts to full-body tackle the phone out of Alya’s hands. “If he hates me already, that’ll just annoy him more!” “I promise you Adrien Agreste doesn’t hate you, but fine—I won’t ask him. Now.” Danger averted, Marinette slides to the floor and lays on the carpet face-down like a starfish. A pathetic, confused, Adrien-hated, starfish. “I can’t go to school like this. Every time he looks at me I think I’m going to die. Why does this happen to me? Why?” Alya, bless her patience and logic, sits down next to Marinette. “You’re Ladybug,” she tells her, “you save the city practically every day. I’m sure you can figure out why your crush has been acting weird, if you can solve those Lucky Charms?” Marinette’s beginning to think that her worst Lucky Charm is nothing compared to this conundrum, but she ends up nodding miserably.

___

Marinette is ignoring him, and Adrien doesn’t know what to make of it. Aside from feeling absolutely devastated. Apart from three days ago when she’d tripped down the stairs and landed on him, they haven’t had a proper conversation. Which is awful, because he’s just beginning to think they’ve gotten somewhere with their friendship. Marinette had even brought him pastries from her family’s bakery when he mentioned his diet was ridiculously strict. They’d studied together; Adrien taught her common phrases in Chinese. It was going well—in fact, it was going much better than at the beginning of the year, when Marinette seemed to tense up every time she saw him and avoided him like the plague. And now, they’re right back at square one. The other day, Adrien had run into her at the locker rooms. He had walked towards her and she looked like she’d seen a ghost. “I need to go,” Marinette had blurted when he was just about to ask her if they could talk, “my hamster’s on dire—I mean fire!” Adrien has come up with plenty of bad excuses since becoming Chat Noir, so he knows one when he sees it. Marinette’s hamster (if she even has one) isn’t on fire. Probably. She just dislikes him again for some reason, and Adrien cannot figure out for the life of him what’s going on. The possibility of Marinette—bright, cheerful, helpful, wonderful Marinette—being upset with him is so awful that he can’t even concentrate in class. By the fourth day, Adrien can’t take it anymore. Since Marinette isn’t approachable, the next best options are Nino and Alya. Adrien Agreste created a group chat with Alya Cesaire, Nino Lahiffe. [16:46] Adrien Hey guys, do you know if I did anything to make Marinette mad at me? [16:47] Nino Why do you think mari’s mad at you??   You know she thinks YOURE mad at her, right This is alya btw im with nino [16:47] Adrien Why would I be mad at her? [16:48] Nino GOD you are so BLONDE Ill tell you tomorrow, you can think about it yourself After his schedule that day, Adrien sits at his desk with Plagg next to him. He takes out a sheet of paper and writes: Reasons Marinette thinks I’m mad at her. “You’re really weird,” Plagg notes, perched on top of the eraser. “Just ask Pigtails, and you’ll find out.” “She’s been avoiding me,” Adrien explains patiently.   “Then make sure she can’t avoid you, and you two can talk about it? Easy.” He wrinkles his nose at Plagg. “You saw that she runs away from me before I can talk to her! And I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. If she’s not mad at me and thinks I’m mad at her… what did I even do to make her feel like I’m mad at her?” “Maybe since she dumped yogurt on your head?” “I know it was just an accident. I literally told Marinette it was completely fine.” "Maybe when she tripped down the stairs and landed on you?” “I wasn’t acting mad after that either. I even asked her if she was okay to make sure she knew I wasn’t upset at her.” “I’m out of ideas,” Plagg announces, reaching for a wheel of camembert. “You’re on your own now, kid.” Turns out, Adrien can’t think of any reasons either. He ends up with a blank sheet of paper and his mind tired of the circles he’s run himself into.

___

“Wow,” Alya comments when he drags himself into the classroom the next day. She’s earlier than most of the class—the only other people are Rose and Juleka, who Adrien waves blearily at. “Did you sleep?” “Not really,” Adrien replies. “I tried to think of reasons, I really did. But I can’t figure it out.” Alya’s expression turns from a teasing grin to wide-eyed pity. “Did you stay up all night trying to figure out why Marinette thinks you’re mad at her?” Adrien nods miserably. “Oh,” Alya says. “Oh boy. I’m sorry for stressing you out, Agreste, but I genuinely did not think you would do that. It was supposed to be a joke.” “Well,” he says, feeling a bit like an idiot, “Marinette’s my good friend, and I wouldn’t want there to be any misunderstandings between us. It just feels unfair to her, and I don’t want to see her upset.” “A good friend,” Alya echoes. “Right…” Adrien questioningly glances at her, but she schools her expression back to neutral before he can figure out what she means. She straightens in her seat then folds her hands in a business-like manner. “Alright. I’ll get straight to the point so you don’t go thinking too deeply into it. Why have you been glaring at Marinette every time you see her?” Out of everything Alya could’ve said, that one makes the least sense. Adrien does a double take at her. “Glaring? When? How?” Alya sighs. Then, she dips her head and narrows her eyes at Adrien. He gapes at her for a solid five seconds. “I’ve been doing that at Marinette?” he manages out. “But… wait, is that what I looked like?” “Probably not, but I thought you needed a visual display. Do you know what I’m talking about?” “Um… I think?” Adrien wracks his mind back to the couple of times he’s seen Marinette. “I’m not glaring at her. My eyesight’s been a bit fuzzy these days, and I can see clearer if I squint. That’s what I’ve been doing. Squinting at her.” Alya is dead silent for a heartbeat, then she bursts out laughing. Adrien feels the back of his neck heat up. Max, Kim and Alix file into the classroom at that moment, and to his relief, they don’t join in the conversation to add to his humiliation. “Oh my God,” she finally gets out between laughter, “you’re going nearsighted and Marinette thinks you’re mad at her, when you’re really just trying to see. I literally told her you weren’t mad. Why haven’t you gotten glasses yet?” That’s a good question. Mostly because he sits at the front of the class, which means that even though things are sometimes fuzzy, Adrien can still more or less make out what’s on the board. His vision also self-corrects as Chat Noir, so it doesn’t hinder any superhero responsibilities. It’s just… weird, really, seeing people blurry when they’re walking towards him. (Especially Marinette, because Adrien likes looking at her expressions, and her in general.) “I didn’t want to bother Father or Nathalie,” he admits at last. “And I thought there might be a chance that it was temporary.” Alya has stopped laughing, to his relief. She wipes her hands under her eyes. “Well, you should probably get glasses to wear just in case. And so you can stop squinting at Marinette and she stops falling down stairs.” Adrien winces. “Also,” Alya continues, “that makes sense and all, but why have you only been squinting at Marinette? I don’t think you’ve ever done the same to me. Or Nino for the matter.” He frowns. Had he only been squinting at Marinette? Adrien hadn’t even been aware, but now that he is, he doesn’t have an answer for Alya, but she’s waiting expectantly for one, and— Marinette walks into the classroom at that moment. She spots them, and her cheeks drain of colour. Adrien shoots to his feet. “Marinette,” he calls quickly before she can turn heel and bolt. “Can we talk outside?” Her eyes flit nervously to him, then behind, to Alya. Adrien feels downright rotten for making her look so nervous. “I’m sorry,” he adds. “I’m not mad at you, I promise.” Somehow, it’s enough for her to squeak out a “yes” and they end up outside the classroom, leaning on the railing and overlooking the courtyard. In his periphery, he sees Marinette twisting her fingers nervously in front of her chest, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. He glances at her directly. She doesn't look back at him, but her hair looks extra shiny and soft, and Adrien idly wonders what it would feel like to bat one of her pigtails. Then he realizes his thoughts are all over the place and he’s supposed to be apologizing to Marinette for the misunderstanding. Alya’s voice comes back: why have you only been squinting at Marinette? The fact that Adrien doesn’t know the answer to that makes him antsy and nervous, which is dumb because being around Marinette is comfortable and easy, so it makes no sense that he feels tongue-tied now. “Sorry,” Adrien blurts out again. “Sorry. I think we might have a couple of misunderstandings, and it might be my fault.” That’s enough for Marinette to turn to look at him, her eyes wide and panicked. “It’s not your fault!” she exclaims, waving her hands frantically. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” “Well…” She’s looking away again. “I guess it was neither of our faults, but it was mostly me. My eyesight has been getting a bit blurry these days, but squinting helps me see clearly.” Slowly, she lifts her head up. “Wait, what?” “I’m going nearsighted,” Adrien reiterates. “Technically.” The words take at least ten seconds to visibly compute on Marinette’s expression. “You mean,” she begins, “you need glasses?” “I think so.” “Oh,” Marinette says. “Oh.” There is a span of silence. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” Adrien finally admits. “And I’m really sorry for that. I promise I wasn’t mad at you at all, it’s one-hundred-percent because of my eyesight.” Marinette offers him a tiny smile back. “I’m really glad to hear that.” Her voice is earnest, and Adrien swears his heart swells and jumps. He may be good friends with Alya and Nino, but there’s a certain fondness that’s always been specially reserved for Marinette. Perhaps that’s why he’s only been trying to see her with full clarity. “Sorry I jumped to conclusions too.” “I would probably be weirded out if someone did that to me.” She laughs slightly this time. She has a pretty laugh, Adrien thinks hazily, then blinks. Wait, what? “Now that you say it, though,” Marinette muses, “it did look a lot less like glaring than it was squinting.” “I would hope so, because Alya gave me a terrifying impression when I asked and I really hope I didn’t look like that.” Marinette laughs louder. Adrien’s trying to think of the next thing to say so she’ll laugh again when the bell rings. “Marinette?” he says, just for one final thing, because it feels imperative to put it out there. She turns, stops, waits expectantly. “For the record,” Adrien tells her before he can lose the courage to, “if I do get mad at you—hypothetically, since I don’t think it will happen—I’ll never not try to solve it. I value your friendship too much for that.” She ducks her head. “Thanks, Adrien,” comes the quiet reply, and it puts a smile on his face too.

End Notes: they are clowns but they’re cute so thats ok :’) 

reblogs r very much appreciated ty for reading!! 

[hargrove-mayfields]

Back when things were still easy, Billy and Max used to have sibling days on the weekends when Neil wouldn’t be home, setting aside their issues to have just one day that was meant for doing something fun together.

The tradition had been dropped after the move to Hawkins, and Max thinks that’s where a lot of the strain on their relationship comes from. Without those designated times to let go of some of the tension building between them, they fall to pieces.

There’s one day in particular where it’s just Max at home all by herself, her mother and Neil having gone on a trip to the city she opted out of, when Billy shows up much earlier than he said he would be back, ruining the calm when he slammed the front door so hard a picture frame fell off the wall.

Neither of them say a word to the other, all she gets is an apologetic and glossy looking glance for the noise as he storms past her like she isn’t even there.

She doesn’t see Billy again for a long time after that, just hears the angry music blaring in his room. By now, she’s wisened up enough to know that meant he was probably crying in there, and though she doesn’t know what happened, she feels bad.

It’d been far too long since they acted anything like real siblings, not that they were actually related, but they used to be just as close, so after her brother’s been brooding for literal hours, she knows she wants to do something.

Her opportunity to bring it up comes when Billy makes his grand appearance at her door, stopping by to ask if she ate dinner just so he, quote ‘wouldn’t get any shit for it.’ She nods in agreement and asks, “Do you know what day it is, Billy?”

He shrugs, “28th of June.”

“Well, doy, but it’s also Friday.” Billy raises an eyebrow, missing the point, and Max rolls her eyes. “Friday. You know, like, the one day we get to hang out.”

Too cool for that stuff anymore apparently, he scoffs and leans against the doorframe, and she just knows he’s going to say something snarky, so she turns the puppy dog eyes up a notch, “Please? It’ll be fun.”

It works, Billy sighs way over dramatic and steps into her room, throwing himself down onto her beanbag chair. She can’t contain the smile on her face when he asks with fake defeat, “What did you want, shitbird?”

“I want a makeover day. Like we used to do.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Why?” She crosses her arms, “Just because that’s what I want to do?”

He fixes her with a look that says ‘seriously?’, and explains, an edge of frustration to his voice, “No, because you know what’ll happen if I’m struttin’ around in nail polish and shit when Neil gets back.”

“They’re not supposed to come back until like, Monday though,” in response to her excuses, he mimics her in crossing his arms over his chest, so she tries harder to reason with him, “And we can always just take it off when we’re done.”

“That’s just a waste of your stuff, then.”

“Come on, Billy, please?” she’s out of actual arguments and he’s winning, so she brings out the big guns, the little sister privilege, the one surefire way she knows will always knock her brother off guard, “I miss you.”

He squints at her, seeing through the attempted guilt trip, but he can’t muster a frown, and he must know it wasn’t all fake, because he says, “Whatever.”

She knows that’s his version of a yes and he’s just too proud to admit he caved, so she squeals and claps her hands together, taking off like a shot to dig under her bed for the stowed away beauty kit. It’s a little wicker basket filled to the brim with nail polish and makeup, the same one they’d used years ago before everything went wrong, and it makes her happy, bringing the old thing back out.

She stops to put a record in her player, choosing Queen as the closest thing to a middle ground between their respective music tastes, they at least both weren’t supposed to listen to it, and drops down into the other chair beside Billy.

On the latch-hook rug in front of them, she starts to empty the basket, lining up all her brightly colored bottles of nail polish, slightly dried out after months of not using them. “What color?”

“Why do I have to go first?” Billy asks. All Max has to say in response is a know-it-all “Because I said so.”

“Fine. You pick.” The moment he says it he looks like he regrets it, Max is notoriously bad at making decisions, but she ignores him and starts holding up bottles anyways.

First, after few minutes deliberation, she chooses a pretty dark green, and he scrunches his nose and doesn’t say anything. She picks a purplish color, which he tosses away on the bed, a very firm ‘no’ that makes Max giggle. Then she gives him a bright orange bottle, and he holds in front of his face, studying it before turning that one down too.

“God, if I knew you’d be so annoying I would’ve just painted them all the colors.” She remarks, lining up her polishes so she could do just that.

“That’s actually probably not a very good idea, kiddo.” Looking a little panicked, he digs through the bottles himself, settling on one he pulls away and stares at for a second before handing it to her and telling her, “Just do ‘em red.”

It confuses her, but she agrees regardless, and makes him turn in his seat so he’s facing her and his hands are flat on the floor. His hands are a little shaky, so her paint job isn’t the best, she even drips some on the carpet, which she hopes her mother won’t notice, but Billy doesn’t say anything about the mess.

With his nails done she moves onto his hair, she wants to do double braids like how he taught her to do in her own hair, so she shoves his arm to get him to turn around. “Scoot.”

He lets her push him around until he’s in the right place that she can reach his hair, but once he’s facing the far wall he tells her, “Don’t you dare use that brush on my hair, Maxine.”

“Jeez, relax. I’m not gonna mess up your princess curls.” She mocked, but she still went for the comb to run through his hair instead.

She waited until she could get it through without catching on any tangles before bothering trying to talk to him. When Billy was upset, he tended to clam up, but she didn’t particularly like feeling awkward in the silence, leaving all the talking to the record player. “Can we talk about why you were mad earlier?”

“Nope.”

“Would you tell me if I told you about my day?” She tries, but he shuts it down again with an “Unlikely.”

“I’ll tell you anyways.” Max didn’t know what had happened with Billy, but she knew she hadn’t had the greatest morning herself either. “I had to ask Lucas to bring me home early because me and Mike got in a fight.”

Billy snorted, and spoke with just as much sarcasm as Max had used on him. She learned that from him anyways. “You and Mike? No.”

“Yeah. He was being a total ass about El, trying to like, own her or something, so I told him to lay off ‘cause that’s totally not fair.”

She knew that Billy, having graduated and turned 18 now, was probably getting a little old for this type of drama, but he was a good listener, no matter how much he pretended not to care, always giving little bits of insight and saying things to make her laugh.

She continues, “Well, anyways he like, totally bit my head off for sticking up for her, so then I told him he was just a miserable mouth breather who’s jealous of El being happy, and he tried to kick me out.”

Billy laughed at that, muttering a little ‘ow’ when the action made Max pull his hair, “But you left before he could kick you out right?”

“Duh.” She sighs a little, the fun part of the story over. “Then when we pulled up outside, Lucas said something stupid about it being my fault or whatever, so I dumped him again.”

“Good. I told you not to take any shit from them anymore.” Billy had been less than happy with her friends a lot recently, when she’d come home from school or from hanging out upset over something they said. They never meant to hurt her feelings, but Billy didn’t like it all the same, and made her promise she’d stand up for herself a little more. Like she did to him.

“Yeah, I guess.” It makes her feel light on the inside, to know Billy was proud of her for following his advice, in his own way at least. “So? What happened to you?”

He shrugs again, and blows her off, “It’s nothing.”

“You were crying.”

“Yeah, and it’s none of your business.”

“Maybe not,” she fumbles with the braid and loses it, Billy’s stupid uneven mullet making it way too hard to braid so many different lengths of hair, “But I’m like, an expert now. El says she likes my advice.”

Under his breath, Billy mutters, “‘Course she does.”

Max purses her lips and pretends she didn’t hear that before continuing her offer, “Anyways, I can always try to help.”

“Listen, it’s just stupid dating stuff. Nothin’ you need to be worrying about.”

“But I’m a girl. I can give advice about that.” She thinks about it for a second, “I mean, I know more about being a girlfriend than having one, but it’s probably about the same.”

“Maybe.” Billy mumbles, focusing all his attention on picking at the nail polish that had missed the edges of his nails, and just from the way he tensed up she can tell she’d overstepped Billy’s boundaries in some way or another.

She finishes of the braid she had already started over twice now and puts a blue scrunchie on the end of it, giving him a minute.

When she starts combing out the rest of his hair is when Billy speaks again, not a drop of his distinctly Billy attitude in his words as he admitted softly, “You know, shitbird, I never said anything ‘bout having a girlfriend.”

That’s confusing to her at first, because he had just told her it was a dating thing, but Max’d been hearing all the nasty things Neil said about Billy for years now, and while she might just be a kid, might be the clueless and annoying little sister, she still knew the weight of what he’d just admitted to her.

It had always made her sad, to know Neil didn’t really like Billy, all the mean words he used, ones she wouldn’t dare repeat, to describe Billy and his friends, all the lies he told about him behind his back. But she doesn’t buy it, what her asshole step-dad had to say.

Her brother was cool, and she liked hanging out with him, when he wasn’t being such a jerk. The fact that he had a boyfriend instead of a girlfriend didn’t change that in the least bit.

She hums, trying to gather words and, her voice strained against the outburst of happiness, says “See? I can totally help with boy stuff.”

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL

March 2021 Part 4

Being a highly subjective assessment of one tiny corner of the interwebs. 

This is a LONG ONE, it’s been A WEEK everyone. 

Ongoing Series - Thai

Lovely Writer Ep 5 - a little slow this week, but at least Gene finally flirted back, and very cute flirting it was, too. Also we got Aey’s motivation, background, and love interest. Thank goodness for that. 

Brothers Ep 8 - still pants, what can I say? Clearly I am a BL masochist. Very embarrassing for everyone concerned. 

1000 Stars Ep 9 - the conflict over Tian’s father was REALLY well done. The plot of this drama is excellent, the leads are great together, and yes I totally cried. What, you didn’t? 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Word of Honor (China) Ep 16-18 - big battle fighty fighty stabby stabby. Ep 17 switches to “this drama isn’t big enough for two chaotic-neutral godlings!” So what do they do? Drink together and bicker... A LOT. Then in Ep 18 we all get the dubious joy of really freaky puppets. (I HATE puppets.) Also how is China letting this be so SO VERY VERY GAY?  Also, I wanna walk through the forest wearing a smanshy purple robe and waving a big fuck-off white fan around simply because I’m a pretentious fuss monger. And frankly, I feel like this is an achievable life goal for me. 

We Best Love 2 (Taiwan) Ep 4 - not gonna lie, this is looking to be one of my top 3 BLs of 2021. It’s SO GOOD. Big bonus to this ep for treating stalker behavior like the mental illness it is and not as some dumb representation of enduring love. 

The Most Peaceful Place is My Place (Vietnam) Ep 1 - finally dropped (find it under NƠI BÌNH YÊN NHẤT LÀ VỀ BÊN EM on O2′s channel). It’s got actors already comfortable with BL and looks pretty good so far. An angry tsundere uke reunited with his ex, a stoic chef, giving us lots of snap, crackle, and pop out the gate. 

Dear Uranus (Taiwan GL) Ep 2 - I want to love it, but it is just moving too fast. There’s not enough character dev and then they’re throwing flashbacks in? It feels like a treatment rather than a show, and a rushed treatment at that. Bummer. 

HIStory 4: Close To You (Taiwan) Ep 2 (AKA Ep 3-4) - let the cheesy popcorn continue! Idiot remains an idiot; ingenue remains an ice queen; nice gay guy remains nice and gay; obsessive stalker brother is getting ever more whackadoddle. Of course these last two have the best chemistry. (It’s caregiver codependency and the salvation trope. We got us a Leo/Fiat situation going on.​) Plus lots of classic BL tropes because OF COURSE there are lots of tropes. 

Occasionally, I am tempted to argue that shows like H4 or Cherry Magic or Ossan’s Love aren’t technically BL because of the office setting and age of the protags - but then they all behave like high school students anyway, so *shrug* 

Stand Alones

Cute little Taiwanese micro BL Friend or Lover dropped, about bisexual realization within a friendship group. Normally these are too short for me, but this one did pretty good with its 15 minutes of charm, plus it’s abad boy + shy softy pairing. 

Breaking News - Thai BL

Fish Upon the Sky released its actual trailer. The upside-down kiss is gone, which makes everyone sad, and it seems far less rivals to lovers than the first iteration, which makes ME sad. But it still looks good and a more classic BL than GMMTV has given us in a while. New trailer focused more on the makeover trope and they’ve upped Mix’s role (the object of everyone’s affection) now that he’s proved himself. (Or they are using him more to carry the trailer since he has a fan base form 1k*). Starts April 9 on GMMTV in 1K*’s time slot, probably with a 10 ep run. 

2gether the movie is apparently coming April 22 to Thai theaters. F4 Thailand must be having issues or GMMTV just wants to milk the BrightWin cash cow. It’s rumored to be a combination of 2gehter + Still 2gether with some extra scenes and ending. Also, one assumes a lot will be cut out, if it’s movie length.

Call It What You Want released its updated trailer. If anything, it looks more scary than before. What are we in for? April 9th. 

Nitiman got a release date, May 7 on One31. 

I Told Sunset About You 2 got an updated release date of May 27 on LineTV. 

Second Chance the series is coming to LineTV on March 29. I don’t know much about this one. Tons of familiar faces (mostly TharnType side dishes) and some nice looking new talent but a dearth of eng subs. I think it may take on Brothers’ time slot. Line did eng subs for Brothers so maybe they will do 2nd Chance too? 

Close Friend the series is coming April 22. This is a combination of 6 couples with 6 story arcs as music videos (maybe)? It’s an epic fan service with familiar faces like OhmFluke (UWMA), MaxNat (LBC also in Y-Destiny), YoonLay (YYY also in Y-Destiny), KimCop (GenY), and JaFirst (TT2).

Y-Destiny starts March 30, and has starting dropping couple’s trailers. I’m still suspicious given the director but it seems like there is plot (or plots) and a theme. Looks to be a series of 7 single ep vignettes (amended, see comments, might be 2 eps each for 14 eps total), different couple each time, some with supernatural elements, all with decent chemistry and acting chops. 

Sun MaxNat’s tutor/student arc

Mon jaded rich kid meets poor innocent  

Tues sports romance enemies to lovers 

Weds the messy realistic actual dating one 

Thurs hot ghost boyfriend (sad) 

Fri YoonLayPerth coping with loss and finding new love (sad). This one will all rest on Lay's acting so we know it’s in safe hands. Our boy is going to KILL it. 

Sat time-slip memory loss reunion romance 

I’m thinking we can’t expect any of these to end happy or be classic BL. They’re gonna be more slice of life-ish. 

Gossip - BL Outside of Thailand 

Scholar Ryu’s Wedding Ceremony AKA Nobleman Ryu’s Wedding (Korean historical BL) got a legit teaser (eng sub here). @curriculumvtae​ reports that it’s releasing April 15th on WeTV (Philippines & Thailand) and Idol Romance (South Korea), while Will of Thai Bl says it’ll be on Viki too. It’s a short run of 8 ep built on a fake relationship trope (arranged marriage variant):

Ryu Ho Seon’s (Kang In Soo from You Wish) arranged marriage turns out to be with his expected bride’s brother, Choi Ki Wan (Lee Se Jin from Mr Heart). Ryu tries to undo the marriage, but his ill mother opposes this saying the scandal would be too much. Meanwhile, Kim Tae Hyeong (Jang Eui Soo from Where Your Eyes Linger), a senior at Ryu’s school, comes to congratulate him and falls in love with Choi. Then one day, the original bride disappears.

Okay it seems a bit twisty turny for ONLY 8 EPS, but oh my goodness how excited are we? Our first intentional historical BL out of Korea!

We already knew Hong Kong was doing a remake of Japan’s Ossan’s Love under the same name (not my favorite Japanese BL but so very popular) but it’s now reported to be coming to Viu in June. Who knows how the CFA will take it. Depends on whether Hong Kong bows before the NO GAY KISSES regs or if they are going to use this as a political nose thumb... things could get cray with this puppy (the original has several kisses and s shower scene). Are we back in Addicted territory only with added comedy and civil unrest?

Speaking of Japan, Absolute BL (AKA Zettai BL ni Naru Sekai vs Zettai BL ni Naritakunai Otoko) dropped sooner than anyone thought, March 27. But being Japanese who knows how/when/if we get subs. Protag finds himself trapped in a world of BL, but being straight he fights against any hot guy that draws near, but the whole world (literally) is conspiring against him. It’s a parody adapted from a yoai.

What with Absolute BL from Japan plus Lovely Writer and Call it What You Want from Thailand, is 2021 the year of BL being ultra self referential? Sure feels like it.

In Case You Missed It

Faded a gay micro film from Taiwan from 2017 deals with parental acceptance and serves up a ton of BL tropes (piggyback, forehead kiss, etc). I’m pretty sure this was a propaganda piece for legalization of gay marriage, and it’s an interesting nugget of BL history as a result. Yes, it ends happy. It’s cute. 

Next Week Looks Like This:

Some shows may be listed a day later than actual air date for accessibility reasons.

Upcoming 2021 BL master post here.

Links to watch are provided when possible, ask in a comment if I missed something.

Man there’s a lot going on right now! Spring has sprung... I suppose. 

P.S. I cannot believe I missed Absolute BL as a blog name. Numbnuts = me. 

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

tuxedo iv, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, mentions of previous jungkook x reader

summary: Your life? Oh, it’s normal. Your cat turned into a man yesterday and you just now humped his leg to orgasm. Sorry, what? That’s not normal? O-Of course, it is! It’s like... having a roommate! You argue because you recorded him without his consent. You eat noodles that he’s trying not to bat at all meal. There are skeletons in your closet. Your fingers get stuck in a Chinese finger trap and then you get fingered. Totally normal, by the way!

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, mentions of the coronavirus pandemic; possibly full-on crack; Yoongi LOVES his box; smut (fem reader, mild restraint, penetrative sex, forced orgasms, intentional voyeurism (tsk tsk, Shooky), fingering); domestic and soft moments with your cat-man; non-idol!AU - cat!Yoongi x human!reader; ft shy boy Jeon Jungkook (gasp!!!) POV and bestfriend!Kim Seokjin POV; breaking of the fourth wall; you ARE a furry, oh well

yes, I reference Jin’s iconic Billboard interview answer, The Lion King (1994), Yoongi’s BTS café cereal milkshake, Bill Nye the Science Guy, PENTAGON’s ‘DO or NOT’ / ‘Shine’ / ‘Humph!”, “you got no jams”, The Addams Family (1991) – also there’s a bit of a meme scavenger hunt, I reference too many to list XD

–

part i | part ii | part iii

-

So.

You kinda.

Humped your cat-man’s thigh to orgasm.

You animal.

“Ah… Yoongi,” you started as your cat… man tilted his head, blinking slowly. Unnerving. Why was he staring like that? It reminded you of his previous cat self, where Shooky would watch you with his minty-green eyes, cat face expressionless, whiskers unmoving. What were cats thinking about all the time anyway?

Better yet, what the fuck was Min Yoongi thinking?

You knew what you were thinking. You were thinking that you couldn’t stare at you cum stain on his pink silk pajama leg all day, because that was a master yikes. He had tons of clothes still piled next to the front door of your apartment. All you had to do was convince him to change his outfit. Simple. Easy. Don’t make this weird. Be casual. Be cool as a cucumber. Chill out.

“Um… You should… take off the pajamas… so I can wash them… there are still more clothes you need to try on from the order, right…?”

Your dignity threw up their hands. Why do I even bother being here? I get ignored, the brain in here is smoother than KY Jelly on glass, and you would know, wouldn’t you, you–

“Take them off for me.”

“… P… Pardon?”

“I’m joking.”

He raised an eyebrow, glancing down at your raised hands. You abruptly dropped them, shoving them behind your back. When did that happen? Why did you make grabby hands like that? Surely not because you were expecting anything, right? Definitely not. Not you.

You need help. 

Yoongi turned around, black fur tall swishing, the back of his pink silk pants half-lowered. Your jaw went slack, only to forcefully shut back into place as you realized he was still wearing his black boxer briefs since you had spent yesterday sewing tail holes in his convenience store underwear. Of course, he was still wearing them. There was no reason to take them off.

What, did you want to look at his booty again or something?

(Yes.)

He went through the doorframe of your bedroom without saying a word. 

Hold on a second.

Did Yoongi let you ride his thigh to orgasm, be sweet to you for two seconds, only to fucking bounce without a peep of acknowledgment? Just fucking yeet? Act like that was totally ordinary behavior and saunter off?

Say sike right now.

A millisecond of bravery shot through you and you bolted out of your chair, your desk rattling with your sudden action.

"Yoongi–!"

You nearly collided into him. You weren’t expecting him to be facing you and you yelped in surprise, skidding on your heels. His hands stopped your hips, freezing you in place so you didn't barrel headfirst into his chest. You flailed about, struggling to regain your balance. All this happening while he continued giving you that deadpan stare. Did anything faze this (cat) man? Shit, you were too close to his face. So close you could feel his breath on your nose. 

"You should change too."

Brain malfunctioning at the softness of his tone.

"... W-What?"

Then your neck, ears, face, even your past and future self, the whole timeline became hotter than a supernova, brain erupting into nuclear fusion as Yoongi's deft fingers slid up to the waistband of your leggings, hooking underneath, stroking your skin. He leaned forward, dark eyes out of your vision, chin hovering above your shoulder. 

"Urk?!"

He started pushing your leggings down. 

He started.

Pushing.

Them. 

DOWN!!!

"You can't stay like this all day, right?" Yoongi murmured gently, voice so deep it was resonating in your empty brain, completely clear of all thoughts except those cool fingers pushing your black leggings down, the skintight fabric catching your soaked panties and taking those on the path to hell too, which was probably where you were headed at the rate this was going. "It would be a good idea to change clothes, I think."

You think, Yoongi?

Not you. 

You don't have think. 

A shrill barrage of low meowing cut through the silence.

Your phone was ringing violently in your room. Yoongi paused, backing up with a frown.

"Why is your ringtone a cat chattering?" he asked, tilting his head quizzically. The continuing sonata of cat chitters escalated before his dark eyes narrowed in recognition. He glared at you and pulled his hands away from your hips, snapping you out of your daze.

"You recorded me?"

"What, what, what?" You blinked rapidly, hearing the familiar sharp chirps and barks of Shooky the cat yelling at birds outside the window. "Oh! Well, yeah... it was funny," you explained weakly, trying to shake out the fog of your horny brain. 

"There's nothing funny about trespassers," Yoongi hissed, turning his heel and swiftly marching away. 

"Trespassers?" you echoed, blinking in confusion. That’s why he yelled at them as a cat? Did he think he owned all the land the sun touches or something? The sound was getting louder and louder, indicating the call was about to be missed. No time to think about it. You rushed back into your room, nearly half tripping with your leggings only partway on your ass, scrambling to answer your phone. There was an uncomfortable squish between your legs. Yikes. You did need to change. 

"Hello? Oh, yes, the video? I'm putting it in the Dropbox right now," you babbled, clicking out of a bizarre pop-up ad with some brown-haired guy in a sienna floral shirt and a boxy smile before placing the exported video in the shared Dropbox folder. 

"Sorry, yeah, I know I usually have it done earlier. It's been a weird couple of days..."

-

Kim Seokjin was furious. 

Furious! 

His best friend ignored his face. His beautiful face! How could she! He fumed, deciding to instead spend his time wisely, as he always did.

He stared at his reflection and nodded, stroking his chin. Yes. A true winner. Look at that brilliant smile. Perfect. He looked great today, as he did every day. Seokjin looked away from the mirror on his desk and went back to his MapleStory life.

-

After a quick change and final edits of the completed video sent off to the client, you left your room to find that Yoongi had stacked his new clothes on the coffee table. The brown cardboard box was on the sofa with him (???), as if it was a human being instead of an ordinary box. He had neatly folded the plastic packaging and placed it on the kitchen counter so you could sort it into the correct recycling. 

"Oh... thanks."

He was now wearing a white t-shirt and black pants that actually seemed like they fit, the back of said pants halfway down his butt to accommodate for his tail. He was watching that historical drama; eyes glued the television. The dark brown orbs were hidden by his curtain of black hair. His pointed black ears were turned away from your direction, as if he had no desire to listen to anything you had to say.

As usual.

Yoongi's response was grunting disapprovingly at you. 

You sighed, feeling a little guilty.

"To be fair, I couldn't really ask your consent when you were a cat."

Your cat-man appeared to be out of fucks to give. "You should do laundry," he huffed gruffly. 

You scooted away awkwardly. "Er... yeah. Let me order some delivery for lunch first..."

-

"Yoongi."

"What?"

"What are you doing?"

He stared at his chopsticks, holding them up high. 

"Hmm..."

His pink lips twisted, narrowing his eyes. The fingers in his other hand twitched. He had been staring at the noodles in his ramen for the past five minutes. They were probably cold now. You were getting a bit worried that he didn't like carbs or something. But then you realized that wasn't the case.

His fingers twitched again. 

"They're noodles. Not string."

Yoongi didn't reply, itching to bat at the long noodles. 

"Just put them in your mouth."

He gave you this look. As if to tell you, you don't usually say that. Usually someone else tells you that. 

You thinned your mouth into a line. 

"I know you're admiring the skinny legend that is noodles, but, yes, they're edible. Need I remind you that you used to eat string and I had to pull it out of your mouth when you choked on it?"

Yoongi scowled. Apparently, he did not like being reminded. It wasn’t that pleasant for you to remember either. At least you never had to wait until it passed through his body and never had to pull it out of the other end (ew). He peered them for several more seconds before putting them in his mouth. You noticed his ears perked up as he ate. 

"You like them?" you asked.

He hummed, not looking at you. Was Yoongi still angry about the recording thing? You weren't changing your ringtone regardless of his dissatisfaction. It was cute. You liked it. And he was being a drama queen, acting all catty.

Hold on. 

He was a cat. 

(Man.)

-

"What is this?"

"Dessert."

You took a sip and choked a little at the grainy taste. 

"Is that cereal?"

"Yeah. It's too hard. Better this way."

You gawked at him, holding the weird cereal milkshake with one hand and his half-sewn pants in the other. Was Yoongi being serious or fucking with you? You couldn't tell. His expression was completely neutral. His cat ears were straight up, trained in your direction, judging your reaction. He lifted his free hand and dropped a handful of rice crisps on the top of the thick white drink.

Well. 

Not your preferred thick white drink. 

(You nasty.)

He nodded sagely and sat down beside you. 

"Show me how to sew."

-

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program for you to, please, consider the following. 

See, by all recommendations of building healthy relationships, you should have been a responsible human being and had a serious, but necessary, conversation with your (new?) cat-man. 

Hey, Yoongi, I find you quite physically attractive and we had that moment in my bedroom, so maybe there's some chemistry and, oh, I don't know, maybe you could stick that prefect looking dick inside me because I've been thinking about it nonstop since (checking watch) the literal second I realized it existed, not to be too forward or anything, you know?

That kind of speech could get you a quick restraining order in most cases, but this was your cat (man) who had lived with you – maybe against his will but, then again, he got fed regularly and when you were previously a stray you can’t complain.

So. 

Do or not?

Hmm...

You could have admitted these things, but, alas, this was not the way. No, the way was to remain an absolute fucking mess every time Yoongi leaned over your shoulder to inspect your needlework, nearly stabbing yourself in the finger, your heart leaping your throat, strangling yourself with anxiety. 

Fun!

Could everything be quickly solved by telling the truth?

Debatable. Yoongi didn’t seem like the kind of (cat) man to give you a straight answer. Not because he couldn’t. Mostly because he seemed to enjoy watching you struggle. Were you picking up on that? 

No. You were too busy thinking about dick. 

His dick. 

Honestly, don't know if you should laugh or cry right now. 

-

Jeon Jungkook flipped his phone around and around in his hand, scrunching up his face.

Should he say something?

Yes. No. Yes? No. Yes… No, no, no.

He sighed and threw his phone onto his bed.

He missed and it slid off, hitting the floor. 

That was a bad sign.

“Shit.”

He dived onto the bed, scabbing around on the hardwood to pick up the fallen device. Ah, how come he was thinking about this now? He knew why. He had watched a funny cat video of a tuxedo cat and it reminded him of a certain naughty little fluffball always following around a certain owner. Jungkook hadn’t contacted said owner in nearly a year. Wouldn’t it look bad if he said anything now? But he couldn’t not think about it either. That smile was on his mind all the time now. That feeling from back then, floating around in his head. He sighed again, followed by inhaling with his upper teeth pressed against his inner lower lip, creating a loud sucking sound that no one else could hear because he lived alone.

Alone.

Jungkook lifted his phone, dying sunlight reflecting off the screen, a shine that blinded him for a short moment. He clicked his tongue, squinting as he spied the number still on the screen.

“Ah, why am I always a loser in front of love?”

He wasn’t really saying it to anyone in particular. No one could reply to him anyway.

He tossed the phone carelessly on the pillow and it slid behind it, falling in between the mattress and the bedframe.

“Shit!”

Jungkook spent five minutes fishing his phone out of the narrow crevice before firmly placing it on the bed beside him, pointing at it angrily, glaring at it.

“No! Bad.”

The phone did nothing. It was not sentiment.

Humph! He let out a frustrated puff of breath and flopped down on the bed.

His phone flew up from the force of his flop and smacked him in the nuts.

“SHIT!”

-

“Huh, you pick up things so fast. So meticulous.”

You watched as Yoongi brought the needle through the fabric in slow but clean strokes, following your previous demonstration. For someone who only had opposable thumbs for less than two days, he was surprisingly dexterous. Seemed like he could do a lot with his hands. No. Stop that. Stop being weird.

“Are you a genius?”

Yoongi didn’t hesitate, not looking up.

“Of course.”

You regretted asking. He continued, oblivious to your annoyed expression.

“I’m a cat.”

“All cats are geniuses?” you retorted disbelievingly.

“Most of them are.” His eyes flickered to you, eyebrows raising. “Compared to humans anyway.”

Was this a dig at you and your missing brain cells after running into things chasing after him and your brain exploding at his hotness? Which he wasn’t, by the way. Yeah, that’s right. Take that, Min Yoongi! You’re being mean, so therefore your attractiveness points are going down in this brain, yes, they are and there’s nothing you can do about it, yup, absolutely NOTHING–

He held up the pants, showing off his handiwork.

“Did I do a good job?”

His voice was soft, unsure, head slightly tilted, velvety ears eagerly perked to listen to your response.

Oh no.

Oh nooo.

Oh nooooooo.

He’s cute.

“Yeah. That looks amazing, Yoongi,” you heard yourself saying, smiling at him.

His fair-skinned cheeks flushed pink, lowering the pants quickly to snip the excess thread off, placing the needle in the cat-shaped pincushion like you had done earlier so he could carefully tie a knot to seal his hard work.

Shit.

You were whipped for him.

Damnnit.

To be honest, nothing had changed. You were whipped for him as a cat too.

“I’m going to clear out some space the closet so you have somewhere to put your clothes, okay?”

“A-ah… Thanks…” he mumbled, picking up another pair of pants. Jeans this time.

“Oh, with these you can simply cut the hole. No need to sew because this type of fabric won’t fray too much. Ah, but not directly on the seam. Maybe here?” You pointed slightly to the right of the back middle seam. Your mouth kept talking despite not having any more instructions for him. “Did you know the butt rip was fashionable among women for a little while? Under the pocket though, not the center. That’s just weird.”

Yoongi tilted his head the other way.

“Women are weird,” he said in a deadpan voice.

You narrowed your eyes. “Oi.”

He picked up the scissors, raising an eyebrow at you. “Are you not weird?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but nothing came out. He’s got you there. Shit. You puffed your cheeks and turned around, stalking off to your bedroom. Why was he always right? One day, he won’t be right and you’ll mark it on your fucking calendar. Humph.

You slowed at your doorframe, remembering his sheepishly proud face as he showed off his sewing. Crap. What was Min Yoongi so cute for? And how were you supposed to look at other guys after knowing your cat (man) was so damn adorable? And observant and diligent? And driven to be independent, asking questions and trying to do things on his own not even forty-eight hours after becoming human? Cooking, sewing, folding his own clothes… what’s next, playing the fucking piano?

Yeah, right.

You snorted and went into your bedroom.

-

“What’s this?”

You looked up, half-buried in idol merchandise you didn’t even know you had. How long had these sweatshirts been sitting here in their plastic packages? And these posters left in the tubes at the back of your closet? You shouldn’t own so much stuff. You should sell it. You weren’t going to, because these were limited edition items and you would have to be crazy to sell stuff with the cute faces of your favorite idols. You stuck you head out of the closet to see what Yoongi was referring to.

“What? Oh, that?”

You wheezed in embarrassment, ducking back in the closet, pretending to be busy.

“Uh… so… YouTube and Twitch had a crackdown on using copyrighted music and I thought, well, maybe I could maybe make my own, so I brought a keyboard but, uh…”

You rubbed the back of your head sheepishly, trying to figure out how to say you had no musical inclination and only had the ability to appreciate it.

“Basically, I got no jams.”

The keyboard was still in its box. You had opened it and attempted to learn piano, but well, you were shit. Also, you gave up pretty quickly. It was embarrassing considering you had spent so much money on it and were all confident when buying it, only for it to become a hidden occupant in the back of your closet. This was before Shooky – er, Yoongi – had come into your life. Yes. It had been there for literal years.

“I was going to donate it,” you added with a sigh.

You suddenly noticed something out of the corner of your eye. You frowned and reached in, grabbing the thin, hard object before pulling it out.

A…

Skeleton in your closet.

A long-lost Halloween decoration? Why was this here?

“Can I have it?”

You looked up, holding the mysterious plastic skeleton like a small child. “What?”

Yoongi pointed to the keyboard box, black tail swishing rapidly. There was a liveliness in his dark brown eyes and his pointed ears were sticking straight up. You narrowed your eyes.

“You don’t want that skinny box for some reason, do you?” you accused.

He pursed his lips at you, scowling. “No, you can throw away the box. I want to keep the keyboard.”

Huh? “Uh… okay, I guess. More space in the closet, I suppose. Oh, wait…” You stumbled into the back of the closet, feeling around. “I brought a stand for it, hold on… fuck!” You jammed your finger against a metal pole and howled, quickly retreating your hand to massage it. Fuck, that hurt! Scowling, you reached back in to grab the metal keyboard stand and yank it out from between your tightly packed clothes.

“Are you dead?”

“Shit!”

You jumped nearly ten feet, almost banging your head on the clothing rail if it wasn’t for Yoongi’s swift movement of grabbing your shoulders, pulling you to him. He didn’t have to pull far, because he was right behind you. How did he always sneak up on you when he wore a damn bell around his neck that announced his presence? Sorcery. Aliens. Voodoo witchcraft. Now you were convinced these things existed.

(Your cat turning into a man wasn’t enough for you to believe in magic? What’s wrong with you?)

“You’re really clumsy,” Yoongi remarked.

No, you’re spooky, you thought. One of your hands was on his chest. Instant heart palpitations. And handsome. Crap.

“Are you going to do something weird again?”

Weird? You were never weird. What was this man going on about? You needed to reprimand him. Put him in his place! Enough is enough, Min Yoongi! You can’t win over me every time! You raised your head to face him, opening your mouth to give him a piece of your mind.

Yoongi was centimeters away from your face.

You froze.

Ice effect overlapping your whole body.

You dropped the keyboard stand.

Thankfully, it simply fell against your clothing, leaning against your sweatshirts. It stayed upright, held up by the clothing. You didn’t have to worry about it for the time being. It was perfectly fine, unlike you. You were not fine. Not fine at all, staring at Yoongi’s upturned upper lip and unreadable dark brown eyes, slowly blinking at you. Hands on your shoulders, holding you close to him.

Not letting go.

!!!

-

Jeon Jungkook placed his phone on his desk and chopped the air, threatening it.

It wasn’t sentient.

He still didn’t trust it.

He glared at his phone angrily and shuffled back to his bed to have a nice, calm rest that didn’t involve his nuts getting destroyed. Ugh. He was bored. He had plenty to do. Schoolwork. Studying. Cleaning his room covered in clothes. Attempting to cook.

Jungkook made a face at the ceiling.

The last time he tried to cook some glazed sweet potatoes they had been glued to the plate somehow. A neat magic trick, but not edible. He couldn’t get them to unstick, much less be eaten. He had to order out that night. Come to think of it, he spent most of his money on ordering out. Maybe that was a bad habit.

He ran a hand through his bleached, blond hair that had too much toner in it so it had turned slightly silvery-purple. An at-home experiment. Another bad habit.

Jungkook groaned, rolling onto his face.

“I need someone older to take care of me,” he mumbled into the sheets.

Someone older… with a certain tuxedo cat, perhaps? He pouted even though no one was there to witness his cuteness.

“Ahhhhhhh…”

He yelled quietly into his bedding, letting go.

Finally thinking about you.

In front of you, he could tease. He could poke fun. It was easy. You were just so flustered around him, not really trying to hide your attraction to him. The first time he had met you was when he went bowling with Seokjin-hyung (he won, much to the disdain of his hyung). You had stopped by to say hello and Seokjin had introduced you two. It had been a fairly innocent meeting, mostly because for a long time Jungkook couldn’t open his mouth to say anything at all. You were wearing a huge white t-shirt with a colorful strawberry graphic, a wide-brimmed straw hat, and white sneakers with black laces. It had been a hot summer day, he remembered. You were already pretty simply by standing there, chatting animatedly with his hyung. Jungkook tried not to look too closely, sneaking glances in between your conversation.

Seokjin had absolutely no qualms about shitting on your outfit.

“Yah, grandma, you’re off to pick some strawberries in the field or something?”

You had shoved him, rolling your eyes. “You’re a grandpa too! Look at you, losing to kid.”

Was that referring to him? “Ah, I’m not a kid.” Shit. His Busan dialect slipped out a little in his nervousness, deepening his voice.

Your cheeks had peppered pink. “A-ah… right…”

Oh?

Oh!

Oh!!!

You shook your head abruptly and reached into your tuxedo-cat-printed tote bag. “Here’s your freaking hard drive, you monkey,” you had said to Seokjin, handing over the small paper bag.

“Did you manage to restore all my files?” Seokjin asked worriedly, completely ignoring your insult.

You shrugged, looking rueful. “I don’t know how many you had, but I did the best I could.” You leaned forward, eyes narrowing, whispering in his ear. Didn’t matter. Jungkook was close enough to hear.

“Stop downloading porn!”

Jungkook snorted.

Seokjin glared at you. “Excuse me, I am living a healthy lifestyle, do not judge me!” he hissed. “And not in front of the child!”

Yeah, well, Jungkook didn’t let you think he was a child for long.

He wasn't really sure why he was attracted to you. It wasn't only because you were pretty. He just had a strong urge to get a reaction out of you. Ah, maybe that was it. He liked seeing your reactions to things and did everything he could to get more and more interesting reactions out of you. You never told Jungkook to stop. You told Seokjin to stop all the time.

"I swear if you make one more pun, I'm going to tie your tongue into a knot!"

"Then I'd really be tongue-tied, eh? Eh?! WAIT, NO, WATCH THE FACE, NOT MY FACE!!!"

Jungkook couldn't help himself. He had to mess with you. 

Fuck. 

(Yes, actually.)

He couldn't stop. It was too fun. It didn't help that you had a cute surprised face. Didn't help that you had a great smile. Didn’t help that you had an amazing body under your clothes and knew exactly how to use it (Jungkook wouldn’t admit it, but he learned a lot from you). Didn't help that you would chase after your tuxedo cat and scoop up that furball even after getting railed by him, which Jungkook found very impressive. 

"Shooky, you loon, I told you to stop running on the counters..."

And you would cradle that cat to your chest, petting his head and waiting for him to purr and lick your nose before releasing him, satisfied that he was no longer going to be a menace. He still was though. He was a cat. You forgave Shooky every time. 

Just like how you let Jungkook get away with everything. 

Present Jungkook frowned, rolling onto his back, frowning at the ceiling. Maybe you thought he was a fuckboy and had a negative image of him. He scratched his head, tongue in cheek, thinking hard. No. You didn't seem like the type. You were never angry at him, not really, not even when he interrupted your work to mess around in bed. Exasperated, maybe, but it never seemed like you were holding an internal grudge or upset at his nonchalant actions. Ah, but he hadn’t tried to talk to you in almost a whole year. Would you think he was a dick if he tried to contact you now? He couldn’t ask you. He couldn’t ask your best friend. Seokjin-hyung still had no idea. 

Jungkook laughed to himself. 

He kind of went behind his hyung's back, whoops.

He looked to his left side, the side you used to fall asleep on when he spent the night. He could imagine it, your past self and his past self, your hair on your pillow, blankets loosely over your chest, his hand on your breasts as you slept. 

A pair of mint-green eyes glaring at him from the left side of your body. 

Jungkook remembered poking that pink nose with his index finger, the rest of his hand still on your tits. The tuxedo cat had given him a very displeased look. 

"Are you mad?"

The cat didn't reply. He was a cat. 

"You're really lucky. You get to be with her every day," Jungkook had whispered, not wanting to wake you up. "She takes good care of you, you know. I see how much she loves you."

The cat closed his eyes, resting his furry head on your arm. 

"Do you love her back?"

Maybe. Maybe not. Jungkook didn't know. He wasn't a cat. He couldn't ask in cat language. He let go of your breasts for a second to scratch the top of Shooky's head, right between those velvety ears. He began purring like a little motor. 

You continued your adventures in la la land, oblivious to this interaction. 

"I guess cats are kind of simple, huh?" Jungkook mused, smoothing out the black fur on top of that little head. "You don't have to think about much. You don't have to get a job, plan for the future, or worry about being a good husband."

His hand lowered.

"But I do."

You breathed softly against him, nuzzling closer to his body. Jungkook put his hand back on your breasts and you stilled, lost in your dreams. He breathed out, warmth against your skin. He saw the side of your lips twitch ever so slightly upwards, but maybe it was only his imagination wishing to see what he wanted.

Only a wish.

He had placed his nose by your cheek and breathed in, losing himself in dreams as well. 

-

Yoongi looked into your eyes. 

Then both of you turned to opposite sides and sneezed loudly.

"Fuck–"

"That was horrible," Yoongi hissed, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand and backing up. "Ugh, human bodies are awful."

You shook your head roughly. "Someone must be thinking about me... and you, I guess..." you mumbled, clearing your head before prodding him in the chest. "Also, last time I checked, now you're human too, so jokes on you. Hope you enjoy the suffering!" You stuck your tongue out childishly.

Yoongi gave you an annoyed look, reaching over you to grab the keyboard stand. You stiffened at his closeness, but he quickly withdrew, taking the metal stand and leaving you disappointed, but not surprised. Couldn't even pretend to be shocked.

He lifted it up so it wouldn’t drag on the floor and began to walk out of the room, ignoring you.

Classic. 

You thinned your mouth into a line and picked up the white plastic skeleton. What to do with this? Fuck it. Back into the closet it goes, along with your winter wardrobe, summer wardrobe, and other knickknacks.

Well. 

Maybe you could donate a couple things to charity. 

Like this Chinese finger trap. Why was this here?

You stuck your fingers in it. 

S... shit!

Yoongi reappeared to grab the keyboard. You opened your mouth, about to ask for help, looking up to see your cat-man standing in the doorframe of your bedroom, glaring. Very displeased and disapproving, reminding you a whole lot of a certain tuxedo fluffball.

"I'll say it again."

Huh? You gave him a confused look. 

He pointed to his pointed, velvety black ears. 

"I'm a cat, duh."

And then he walked out. Fuck him. You didn't need his help. 

-

You couldn’t get it off.

Panik!

Yes, you can. It was just a finger trap. You were smart. You graduated university. You had been a human for many more years than Min Yoongi. He had been human for two days! And besides, Yoongi was mean. You didn’t need a meanie to help you. You were a strong, independent woman who didn’t need no (cat) man.

Kalm.

You…

You…

You couldn’t get it off!!!

PANIK!!!!!!!

-

“… What are you doing?”

You were the epitome of the emoji holding back tears.

“Y… Yoongi…” you whined.

He blinked at you, holding the manual of the keyboard upside down. The keyboard was already set up on the stand, pushed up against one of the walls of your living room. He was using the cardboard box that his clothes came in – he really loved that damn box – as a makeshift seat.

“Are you dying?”

You held up your hands, pouting. The bronze dragon Chinese finger trap was still stuck on your index fingers. It had been roughly twenty, maybe thirty minutes.

Your cat-man just blinked at you and it.

“I… can’t get it off… Help…”

He raised an eyebrow and put the manual on the keyboard before walking over to you. He placed his chin in between his index finger and his thumb, frowning. Looking this way and that. The realization was slowly kicking in.

Yoongi wasn’t hiding his smirk very well.

“You know how to take it off!” you howled, smacking him in the chest.

He cackled, backing up as you repeatedly whacked him with the back of your hands, furious because it was obvious that he knew what to do and was simply not doing it to piss you off, his grin getting wider and wider, still not saying anything, this little shit, backing up into your living room as you chased him, stupid cat-man was fucking fast, dodging you easily, your joined hands and annoyed demeanor making you a bit wobbly.

“Min Yoongi, I swear I’ll��”

“You’ll what?” he teased, raising his hands in mock innocence. “Maybe I don’t know?”

You scowled at him. “You definitely know.”

He smirked.

Shit.

It was sexy and you were supposed to be mad!

You were next to the keyboard now. And a certain something. Hm. You jerked your head to the cardboard box. His eyes widened.

“You wouldn’t do such a thing.”

“I would.”

“You wouldn’t, you heathen.”

“You better fucking believe I would!”

(You’re threatening to recycle a cardboard box to force your cat-man to get you out of a metal finger trap that you put yourself in. Um, are you okay? Better yet, are both of you okay???)

He marched over to you, relenting with an angry huff, yanking up your hands.

“There’s a trick to it, of course.”

He pressed the dragon’s horns in tandem with the dragon’s beard on either side and the trap released your red fingers, making you gasp at the sudden freedom. Holy shit. You stared at your freed index fingers. You had two hands. Wow. Amazing. Show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique…

Yoongi placed the finger trap on the coffee table.

“Hmph. This thing is probably only worth three dollars.”

You poked your index fingers together, suddenly ashamed. “Sorry I threatened your box.”

Yoongi grunted, cat ears flicking back and forth in annoyance.

You poked his stomach with your index fingers. “Er… I just… wanted you to help me...”

“You weren’t going to do it anyway.”

You puffed your cheeks, narrowing your eyes, irritation flaring back. “Well, maybe I was! What were you going to do, leave me like that, unable to use my hands for the rest of my life?” You jabbed him repeatedly in the chest, driving your point home in between your snappish words. “Hmm? I need hands to do things! Important things!”

Yoongi suddenly grabbed your wrists and held them up over your head.

(Aw shit, here we go again.)

“Y-Yoongi?!”

He raised an eyebrow at you.

“What important things do you need to do with your hands?” he asked.

Oh shit.

Oh no.

Why was his vice suddenly so deep? Did he even know???

Your eyes widened, brain malfunctioning, your last two working brain cells rushing to the library to find the book titled ‘things you can do with your hands’, opening it, reading, handsy things. That was it. That was all you had at this moment. Why was it that your brain had the memory equal to the RAM of a fucking Tamagotchi every time your cat-man touched you?

Oh, yeah, that’s right, because he was a cat literally two days ago and you never thought about fucking your cat because that’s just fucking weird, but now he’s a man, so maybe it’s okay, unless it’s not, and then what does that make you? FUCKING WEIRD, THAT’S WHAT.

You yelped as your back collided to the wall. When had you walked that far? What was going on? What was life??? You were yanked back to reality as Yoongi leaned down, tilting his head, eyebrow still cocked, dark eyes darker from his fluffy black hair falling over his eyes.

“I hear you don’t always like being able to use your hands.”

Holyfuckingshitcrap.

Instantly, your cheerful brain decided to play the memory of you begging Jeon Jungkook to hold down your wrists so you couldn’t stop him and his relentless assault on your pussy, one hand grasping both your wrists and the other rubbing two fingers on your clit, thrusting his hard cock in and out of you as he abused the sensitive bundle of nerves, pinning you to your bed, panting in your face.

“You like this, noona?” Jungkook had purred.

(Respectfully.)

Voice low, deep, and sexy, driving you insane, waves of pleasure crashing into you over and over, pussy throbbing with repeated orgasm.

“F-Fuck, yes, oh fuck, Jungkook, yes… don’t s-stooop…”

Shooky had sat on the highest level of his cat tree, glaring down at you two.

Shit, shit, shit…

Yoongi leaned in even more, eyes disappearing, lips next to your ear. You felt him transfer one of your wrists to his other hand, now holding both with one hand as the other fell against your body.

“In fact, I’ve seen it firsthand,” he whispered, low, soft, dangerous.

Your brain ended the film reel in your head, giving you two mental thumbs-up and beaming happily at you as if it had done a great thing.

No, brain.

You’ve fucked me over and now I’m horny as fuck!

A needy whimper popped out of you as Yoongi’s free hand slipped between your bodies, fingers dancing deftly across the fabric of your sweatshirt, following the rhythm of your racing heart as it went down, down, too fast, sanity unable to keep up, you rising into his touch, his fingers sliding underneath the waistband of your leggings. This pair wasn’t as tight as the previous pair, but the fabric still clung to your skin just as tightly.

Wait. Is that you? Moaning?

(Yes.)

He dragged them down your hips, having to let go of the waistband for a moment to push them past the sides before resuming, you moaning in the space where he should have a human ear, but he didn’t, because Yoongi was a cat-man and his pointed furry ears were at the top of his head.

“Y… Yoongi…”

“Hm?”

His soft lips lightly pressed against your ear and you shivered. His grip on your wrists wasn’t very tight. You could break out any time. He was only loosely holding you.

“I… I am…” you quivered, voice shaking.

“I want to make you feel good.”

His murmur was so gentle, so calm, so quiet that it almost didn’t feel real. Almost a purr.

“Do you want me to make you feel good?”

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

“Yes.”

You said it.

Your panties were leaving with your leggings, shoved down mid-thigh. Your name in your ear, spoken by Min Yoongi, his body hovering over yours, black hair against your cheek, his fingers slipping between your legs, your heart slamming in your chest, thighs squeezing his hand.

“Feels nice here,” Yoongi mumbled, breath feathering on your skin. A single finger grazed your wetness and you gasped, his raspy chuckle in your ear. “Wet.”

Your eye twitched, slightly annoyed. No, really? Thanks for letting me know, it’s not like I can fucking feel it myself or anything, I absolutely need your riveting play-by-play–

“Urk!”

Yoongi scooped two fingers into your pussy and felt around inside, rubbing his fingertips against your throbbing walls.

“Ah…” He was breathing hard, pushing them in joint by joint, his own inhale shallowing. “Fuck, it’s so tight in here, are you alright?”

Oh, my fucking God, Yoongi, just fucking destroy me, I’m not a virgin!

You sucked in a shaking breath, mentally beating your inner thot back down. “F-Feels really nice, Yoongi… just… a little more…” He sank his fingers all the way to the knuckles. “Fuuuck, yes, oh, fuck yes…”

You rocked your hips into it, moaning, eyes closing, building up a pace, not really waiting for him to figure out that he could move his fingers too. It didn’t matter though, because Yoongi was highly observant and diligent, and, as much as you avoided to admit it, he had seen you get fingered hundreds of times, all over the apartment, in all sorts of embarrassing positions and with plenty of visible, graphic, high-definition detail, better than any porn video.

By – yup, you guessed it – Jeon Jungkook.

Yoongi began his own pace to match yours, thrusting his two fingers in and out until you were a hopeless mess, whining and bucking against his touch, your juices coating his hand, staring up at the ceiling with the tips of his black ears in your peripheral vision, tilted towards you to listen to every single one of your sounds. His heavy exhale invaded your head, lost in Yoongi’s rhythm that was uniquely his, only able to cry out, harder or faster, losing yourself in him, his scent, the smell of your vanilla body wash, and the rapidly strengthening sweetness between your legs rising up despite it dripping down your thighs.

“Yoongi… oh, fuck, Yoongi…”

It just felt too good, speed, strength, sound, wet messy squelches of his fingers entering you over and over, your pussy responding in kind, shuddering around them, clenching tight, hips rocking into every plunge to deepen the stroke, prolonging your own orgasm, savoring the moment.

“You feel so good…”

That wasn’t you.

That was Yoongi.

Whispering in your ear, probably not even realizing his own dirty talk.

“So fucking wet and warm,” he murmured, the rumble purring in his chest, soothing but also far too sexy. “Sucking my fingers back in, fucking me back… You really like me this much?” His lips brushed your ear, chaste kisses compared to the rough fingering of his slippery digits pushing into you repeatedly, the sounds getting louder and lewder because you were getting wetter and wetter. “Am I really that good-looking to you?”

Yoongi, are you BLIND, DEAF, or BOTH???

“Fuck yes, you are, what the fuck?” you gasped out, turning your head slightly, one of his dark brown eyes locking with yours, your jaw clenched with the effort of you holding back your orgasm to respond to his ludicrous question. “You are so fucking handsome I couldn’t even last two days of being in your presence, thirsting after you!”

You heard Yoongi chuckle, the sound resonating and teasing your ear.

“Actually, you couldn’t even last one, remember?” he drawled slyly.

His knuckle grazed your throbbing, aroused clit.

“Fuck!”

Your body twisted, whining wail torn out of you as you came, pushing your head and hands against the wall, nerves sparking and shaking, intense pleasure flooding all over your senses from holding back, breathless whimpers of Yoongi’s name, grinding into his hand. He let go of your wrists. They prickled with pins and needles of lost circulation, but you didn’t give a shit, grabbing his hand between your legs and shoving it back in you before it could retreat, riding out your orgasm, milking it for every single gram of ecstasy, cherishing every single second of another’s hand inside you, not just another but your disturbingly attractive man who was previously a cat sleeping in your lap exactly forty-eight hours ago as you innocently watched American Horror Story.

“Y… Yoongi?” you panted, orgasm petering out, trickling waves subsiding.

“Y… Yes?”

He wasn’t making fun of you. You could hear the nervousness in his voice.

“Can I kiss you?”

His face appeared in front of yours.

“Yes.”

You didn’t think twice.

You closed your eyes and leaned forward, lips on his, your satisfied sigh tickling his skin, kissing him hard, the intimacy you desired for so long, moments you spent all year trying to keep it at bay, no one to show your affection but tiny kisses on Shooky’s furry head, but now one of your hands was cupping Yoongi’s cheek, deepening the kiss, him pressing back against you, sandwiching you between the wall and himself. You let go of his hand between your legs and held both his cheeks, peppering light pecks against that lovely mouth. You wanted to kiss him over and over, so nice, so lovely, his barely-there gasps drifting on your lips with every kiss.

His fingers slipped out and touched your thigh.

You drew back, heart thudding, still holding his face, his round cheeks a little squished in your hands.

He raised his hand and put his pussy-soaked fingers in his mouth.

You jerked your hands back. “Y-Yoongi!” you exclaimed, shocked.

His pink tongue slipped around his fingers, tiny kitten licks to slurp it all up. He hummed, small smirk playing on his lips. You gawked at him.

“Y-You don’t have to–”

“You like it, don’t you?”

You shut your mouth, cheeks burning with heat.

Yoongi smirked wider, nimble tongue slipping around and around, your eyes glued to the movement, brain already dreaming up lecherous scenarios. His dark brown eyes flickered to you, eyebrows rising.

“Hmm…”

“W-What?” you snapped, trying to collect yourself. He was giving you that look again. That enigmatic expression of maybe-maybe-not. Yoongi shrugged, taking his fingers out of his mouth.

“I think we should do that again sometime.”

Your mind went blank.

Again? Now? Later?

Next Tuesday?

WHEN, MIN YOONGI, WHEN?

“… Urk?”

Those cunning dark brown orbs sparkled with mischief. “Hmm, then again, maybe we’ll do something different next time,” he pondered out loud, taunting you with the suggestive depth of his voice. He backed up, tail swaying from side to side, his grin widening, turning into an open-mouthed smirk that showed off his pretty teeth and devious expression.

His next words were the verbal equivalent of pushing your full glass of brainpower right off the table and sending it crashing to the floor.

“I have a lot of things I want to try.”

-

part v

--

masterpost

[thosch3i]

Hi hi! So the lost tombs and chronology all super confuse me. So tlt2 ended on a cliffhanger that was not resolved by tlt3 which is ultimate note, but now there is another tlt3 that I am guessing is made by the same studio as tlt2 (but not UN) that actually follows tlt2? And it has the same WPZ as tlt2 (but sadly different WX, ZQL though I’m sure these guys are great). You seem to know what you’re talking about so I’m hoping you can help!

UN also ended on a cliff hanger so I’m wondering if they’ll get a sequel from their studio that comes before tomb of the sea.

ahhh hello anon! yes ahaha the dmbj dramas are certainly very confusing--because they keep switching the screenwriters/entire production team between dramas. huanrui did tlt1 (2015), tlt2 (2019), and the sequel to tlt2 (2021). they're also technically the production company for un (2020), but linghe did like all the directing/casting/writing so its significantly different in tone and quality from the other dramas huanrui produced. npss (dmbj author) did sha hai (2018) and tltr (2020), with sha hai being in collab with linghe, so you can see lots of parallels with un and shared cast. (gonna add that i dont know much about the m9 because that’s not what im personally interested in, so i’m only going by stories with wu xie & the iron triangle.)

unfortunately, the dramas pretty have no continuity as a result of all the weird shit and multiple studios doing different dramas and messy stuff going on behind the scenes. the author's production company currently has all the rights back for filming future dramas, which is......imo, a good thing for book fans who love the author but a 😬 thing for book fans who like the original story more than what the author is now doing with it. I'll uh avoid saying too much opinion stuff though so no more on that 😅

that aside! yes 云顶天宫 “explore with the note” part 2......is the direct sequel to tlt2 and done by the same studio. unfortunately the writers are different and im not sure how much of the production team is the same either. idk how much you know about the novels so brief summary here--for the chinese version, the main story has 9 parts split among 8 books (though the official eng tls have each part being a different book) with some important content being as follows:

official eng title “cavern of blood zombies” (first time wx goes into a tomb, first t3j meeting)

official eng title “angry sea, hidden sands” (xisha seabed tomb, introduce a-ning)

official eng title “bronze tree of death” (bronze tree in qinling, wx & lao yang solo adventure)

official eng title “palace of doom” (heavenly palace on the clouds, introduce bronze gate)

official eng title “deadly desert winds” (golmud, introduce hei xiazi, desert, rainforest, tamutuo)

official eng title “graveyard of a queen” (the rest of that arc, wu sanxing & xie lianhuan reveal, jade meteorite, amnesiac xiaoge and escape, sanshu vanishes for good--also i think the official eng tl covers a couple chapters of the beginning of the next part too)

阴山古楼 (searching for xiaoge’s memories in banai, miluotuo cave, i think introduction of wu erbai)

邛笼石影 (auction/hotel iron triangle fight, introduce xiao hua & xiuxiu, wx & xh on the mountains alone while pz & xg go with granny huo)

finale (rescue from zhang family mansion, changbai mountain goodbye, 10 years promise)

after the main story are the main sequels:

zang hai hua (tibetan sea flower; unfinished & abandoned) covers wu xie a few years after xiaoge has entered the gate, searching to understand xiaoge’s past

sha hai (tomb of the sea; unfinished & abandoned) covers wu xie’s plan to wipe out the wang family, after zhh

chongqi (reunion: the sound of the providence) covers wu xie’s lung disease and how he recovers from that, set after they pick up xiaoge again from the bronze gate. thunder city and everything.

灯海寻尸&万山极夜 (still updating on wechat) don’t worry about this one since it’s still a WIP lol

btw between sha hai and chongqi there’s also ten years later (a short story) that covers how wu xie and pangzi pick up xiaoge from the bronze gate and take him home

the dramas Do Not Connect To Each Other At All, which the exception of tlt2 & tlt2 pt2 somewhat, but they go in this order:

盗墓笔记 / the lost tomb 1 (2015): covers part 1 but with major OCs and filler, and includes the auction scene from part 8 for some reason, so introduces xiao hua early.

怒海潜沙&秦岭神树 / the lost tomb 2 (2019) technically “explore with the note”: covers parts 2 & 3 but with major OCs and filler, introduces xiao hua & xiuxiu (and hei xiazi briefly) early. last couple episodes also cover the beginning of part 4. not a direct sequel to tlt1 despite being done by the same studio.

云顶天宫 / heavenly palace on the clouds (2021) technically also “explore with the note”: covers part 4 with major OCs and filler (and the same changes carrying over from tlt2). some episodes are identical to the last couple episodes of tlt2. works as a direct sequel only if you ignore the last couple episodes of tlt2 that take place in the snowy mountains. (those episodes of tlt2 were filmed after this drama was filmed, and im still not sure why they dragged the wu xie and xiaoge from tlt2 back to changbai mountain to film those episodes.)

终极笔记 / ultimate note (2020): covers parts 5-8 with minor OCs and minimal filler, also introduces xiao hua & xiuxiu early. the only adaptation that resembles its source material most of the time.

沙海 / tomb of the sea (2018): covers the second sequel with major OCs and filler. includes some bits from zhh and the short story “three days of silence”.

重启之极海听雷 / the lost tomb reboot (2020): covers third sequel with major OCs and filler.

in addition there is the prequel series mystic nine (2016) and side movies for the dramas that the author produced. there is also a single standalone movie--time raiders (2016) that is....well it’s. very strange. it’s fully subbed on youtube if you’re interested?

the best way to watch the dramas is to assume each one is its own self-contained AU set along different points of the dmbj timeline because even the dramas the author himself worked on don’t have continuity LOL (and with the exception of ultimate note & sha hai most of the time, also assume most characters are pretty OOC from the novels).

i uh regret to inform you though, that ultimate note will not be getting a sequel unless the author magically decides to not care about making money anymore and sells the rights to film the finale to linghe or something ^^;;;; it’s....unfortunate bc un is the most highly-rated dmbj adaptation on douban by A Lot, but it’s an adaptation that the author had literally nothing to do with whatsoever.

more information on some of the side movies/stage plays/manhua/donghua here.

summaries of the main novel stories (currently through zhh) here.

edited mtl (some of which has apparently been looked over by native cn speakers) of the novels following where official eng tls end here. (there are many scattered extras as well.)

you can get the official eng tl books/ebooks on amazon or elsewhere(?), but if you have problems purchasing them or like you just dont wanna support amazon or something, dm me off anon. (also i dont want to be mean but frankly the official tls are kinda bad too ^^;;;)

a rough timeline (spoilers galore) for the dmbj novels here. (fair warning im not 100% sure how accurate all of this is--they put three days of silence as 1991 but looking at the info in zhh, it seems like it should have been before the 1950s...but it’s more than fine as a general overview.)

anyway i hope that was helpful in some way? dmbj is a Very Confusing thing to get into ahahaha, one of my twitter mutuals has made a few carrds if you think they might be helpful: book, dramas (slightly out of date bc it says heavenly palace hasn’t aired yet), ultimate note (got its own carrd by virtue of being the only adaptation aside from sha hai sometimes that most og book fans acknowledge lol ^^;;;)

also anon if anything wasn’t clear or if you had more questions feel free to ask again sorry ahahaha im kinda tired rn @.@ 

[springday-aus]

Disney Prince!AU with Seonghwa

★ Seonghwa as Disney’s Prince Charming ★

moodboard link

Group: ATEEZ 

Member: Park Seonghwa

Genre: fluff, romance, hints of angst 

part of the Disney Prince Series - could also be a prince!au

Type: Bulletpoint AU 

Word Count: approx. 3k

A/N: I had to spice things up a bit bc after a rewatch of Cinderella, I have realized they have no flavor and got a bit carried away—so enjoy! 

Warnings: family death + mentions of abusive family - you know the classic princess storyline. 

Seonghwa….. is not your average prince

but it’s not depicted in a negative light

so, he’s the prince other nations wished they had

he’s very involved with the state of affairs, often spends time in the villages and conversing with the townsfolk, and often visits schools to read to them or just watch them and it’s so……...wholesome

*cut to him struggling to sit on the carpet with the kids bc his legs can’t fold*

basically everyone loves him because he’s got this angelic aura around him that just makes you feel like you can trust him with anything

and I mean anything

mothers would probably offer him their babies if that was appropriate

he’s just super sweet and tries to remember what he learns in order to take it back and make use of it with the current policies that the parliament is trying to endorse or something

obviously, this is the main image of him to the public

and it’s not fake

but those in the palace know he can get a bit mischievous and sassy

it’s only really seen by those who are close with him, or have been around for a longer time

like assistant!Hongjoong and head butler!Wooyoung

since they’re all close in age and grew up together too, they’re much more comfortable with one another

Hongjoong: *hits his head on a doorway*

Seonghwa: “......... are you an idiot?”

guard!Yeosang and butler-in-training!San: laughing

no, but for real, all of them know he’s basically an angel

the amount of shit he’s putting up with them, but like they make for great entertainment lmao

anyways

the older workers at the palace find him adorable

like when Seonghwa tried to sneak-eat the freshly picked strawberries

“my prince, did you just eat a strawberry?”

Seonghwa with a mouthful of them: “no”

he’s like the grandson they all want (and are trying to get, but we’ll get to that later)

other than his charities and visits and public outings, he’s also known to be a good horseback rider

like real good

Wooyoung: “this is the most princely we’ll ever see him”

he’s kidding, but he’s also not kidding

bc lbr: Seonghwa in a horseback riding fit with the shoulder pads and the helmet and the wind and

Wow

many gather to see him in his glorious, sweaty state afterwards

it’s funny bc he’s so handsome and there are times when he’ll acknowledge it and other times when he doesn’t

especially since the ateez boys just ignore him or tease him

now it just depends on how he feels that day as to how he’d react

since he’s got such a good reputation, you know what that means?

lots of treaties and lots of marriage proposals

on one hand, many nearby countries know how nice Prince Seonghwa is—and some thought he was naive enough to be deceived by them

and that led to a few wars, but they lost real bad bc they assumed he was too nice

when, in actuality, he’s very knowledgeable since he takes a lot after the king and the queen

that allowed much more respect for the kingdom, especially since he’s the first in line for the throne once he’s married

which leads to the second thing: he gets lots and lots of marriage proposals

have you SEEN him?????

do you know how CAPABLE he is????

helloo?????

anyways

the royal family kind of milks this—not in that way tho

it’s in the sense that it’s because they want him to find someone soon and there’s more time for them to learn the ropes about ruling a kingdom

that means lots of balls are thrown in hopes of Seonghwa finding someone to ~catch his eye~ and whatnot

but Seonghwa just uses this as a diplomatic advantage, you know? like a chance for him to meet other royals and build these relationships

and while he has good intentions, the rejected royals are kind of bitter, but they know better than to mess with the Royal Family

meanwhile, party planner!Yunho is lowkey racking in the dough from these events, so he’s fine throwing all these balls lmao

this is where you come in

but, it’s not how others might think

so, you used to be the daughter of a well-of-ish family—you had money for a house and caretakers who adored you and you with parents who loved you dearly

you lived in your own little bubble of love

but then your mother died

when she died, it was almost as if she had taken the lively atmosphere of the household with her

your father buried himself into his work, rarely making time for you anymore and…. there was a drift

one day he came home with a mysterious woman, proclaiming her as your stepmother

along with her came her two daughters, who were as ugly outside as they were on the inside

while you could have done without her passive-aggressiveness, it was nice to see your father happy

but lo-and-behold, you lucked out and he died on a business trip, leaving you alone with strangers to become your only family

it only got worse from there as they openly started to mock you, shame you and push you beyond your boundaries

as they could no longer pay for the staff, they also forced you to clean after them, cook for them, and make all the arrangements that they demanded

or, as your oh-so-lovely stepmother said “you’re below us and you will always be below us”

at first, you put up with it because there’s nowhere else for you

but, slowly, the idea of running away was starting to sound better

and the opportunity came as the palace was starting to look for more servants who would stay in the servants’ quarters

you immediately packed away your things, which wasn’t much to begin with—your mother’s locket being the major trinket you possessed

and ran off to work as a housekeeper, who hid away behind the palace walls and the public eye

since you clean for the palace, it also means cleaning after the balls

other than television appearances, you never really saw the royal family

even as you did work in the palace because……………. they’re running a goddamned country

but, of course, there are rumors and gossip with the other housekeepers which all come from reliable resources

**cough cough definitely Wooyoung cough cough**

so there’s a lot of what you heard, not really from what you’ve seen, despite what some might think when working in the palace

that was until you were called to work at your first ball

which meant you were cleaning after the tables and in the kitchens, going in and out of the ballroom and between dinner tables

getting glimpses of some of the royals

and picking up on some of their juicy conversations

(apparently this one duke almost had an affair with this king’s secret mistress… all the tea)

anyways

you get the point

every once in a while you have to work at the balls when they need the extra help

but, there was one that was…………. different

a lot of the balls are for the royals to take and engage and whatever, but there have been so many and Seonghwa………….

Seonghwa hasn’t been interested in a single one despite the purpose being to help him find someone

Hongjoong: “what’s wrong with them?”

Seonghwa: “there’s nothing wrong with them, I don’t want just someone”

Seonghwa: “I want it to happen naturally—call me old fashioned but if this is someone I want to spend the rest of my life with, it has to be someone who knows me”

Wooyoung, in the corner: “that is old fashioned, hasn’t he heard of tinder?”

advisor!Mingi: “I don’t think it would be a good look for the country if the prince is on tinder”

guard!Yeosang: “we should test it out”

butler-in-training!San: “omg reverse pretty woman”

Hongjoong: “everyone get out, you’re all useless”

okay, but like real talk: he’s such a romantic and the whole unofficial arranged marriage is just………. too much

so, his parents were like: so, you want more options?

Seonghwa: “not what I said”

and they expanded the invitation list for one night, meaning ANYONE had a shot with Seonghwa and

well

he is very popular, so you can imagine how many people were planning on coming and the staff (i.e. you) had to prepare for everything

for the week, the castle was bustling and you were running around to help out and it……. it was all so insane

and then it happens

you’re minding your own business and working and eavesdropping as one does when one works

because everyone is there and who doesn’t love listening to drama that isn’t just from fancy people

but since everyone is here

you failed to remember that a certain group of people were also there

the group of people being your step-mother and step sisters

instinctively, you ducked and hid, moving away from the main room that was swarmed with people who were all trying to obtain Seonghwa’s attention

(who was also trying to hide from everyone else and instinctively failing)

eventually, you found yourself in the gardens, where you tried to make yourself busy

but it ended up being a small walk through the gardens, picking up the occasional liter and small talk with the gardeners

the garden is huge, so you get a bit lost as you wander—physically and emotionally

meanwhile, Seonghwa managed to escape from the others with the help of the other ateez boys

major shoutout to Yunho and Jongho, who insisted on leading the cupid shuffle and cha cha slide

also Yeosang for blocking off people who were trying to shoot their shot with a tired Seonghwa who did not want any of this

he ended up in the gardens as well, walking down a small path with Yeosang trailing a bit farther behind

he spots you on a bench, admiring the flowers under the bright moonlight

and you were absolutely breath-taking

not wanting to disturb your peace, he tried to leave

only to knock into a garden gnome and catch your attention as he tries to not break it

You: “um”

Seonghwa: “I’m so sorry, I was just going to leave, I didn’t mean to disturb you”

You: he looks familiar

You: “I know you from somewhere”

Seonghwa: literally in the most extravagant suit and sparkle make-up as he’s still crouched on the ground trying not to break a gnome that cost like $5 at a Target

also Seonghwa: “have we met before?”

you exchange names and that’s when it clicks

You: “OH MY GOD. MY PRINCE.”

immediately, you try to curtsy or bow or whatever the royals make you do to the ground bc Seonghwa’s still at ground level

and Seonghwa’s just…………. scrambling to try to get you off the ground with flushed ears at you calling him your prince

Seonghwa: “please, you literally do not have to”

You: “I don’t want to be beheaded”

You: “plus, isn’t it like, illegal for me not to?”

Seonghwa: “well, I’m technically giving you orders not to…..”

You: well, can’t argue with that

you slowly get up and dust yourself off, unable to look at him in the eye

even from the corner of your eyes tho, you can see what the fuss is about

bc Seonghwa in that suit and hair swept back is hot™

You: “Prince,  I apologize if I’m speaking out of line, but shouldn’t you be inside?”

Seonghwa: “couldn’t I ask you the same thing?”

You: “but this is in your honor, not mine”

Seonghwa: “is it tho?”

Seonghwa: “I keep telling everyone I would like to fall in love on my own and yet………. everyone keeps meddling and making plans and now everyone in the kingdom is after me when I’m just trying to do my best for our citizens”

you’re a bit silent, unsure as to how to respond

Seonghwa: “I’m sorry for just dumping this on you, but, everyone keeps telling me I shouldn’t be so worried”

You: “well, Prince, I think what you need to hear is that your feelings are valid”

You: “it’s only natural for you to want to find someone on your own—freedom is something everyone wants, which is why it’s so hard to obtain”

there’s a bit of an awkward silence

for one bc you didn’t know what he was really like and if you were allowed to say something like that

two being that you didn’t know if you should leave

but he speaks up

Seonghwa: “you’re right—I did need that”

the air loosens a bit between the two of you

Seonghwa: “so, are you also hiding from an influx of suitors?”

you laugh a little, playing like a twinkling melody to Seonghwa’s ears

You: “no, but I am hiding from people”

Seonghwa: “it’s okay, you don’t have to share if you don’t want to”

you two get to spend a bit more time together, just chatting and getting to know one another

he’s really sweet, but also kind of goofy with a handful of cheesy pickup lines that definitely comes from spending too much time on the internet but also Wooyoung

the time is short but sweet

bc, before you know it, it strikes 12 and Hongjoong has a hold on him by bulldozing past Yeosang who just blinks at the small gust of wind

Hongjoong: “Seonghwa! your parents are looking for you! we gotta go!”

he greets you hastily, before grabbing a hold of Seonghwa and dragging him away—in which Seonghwa is still trying to get one last look at you before you disappear off into the night

or, in your case, back to the kitchen to avoid your stepfamily

the rest of the night passes as expected, at least for you as you busy yourself with washing dishes in the kitchen

but Seonghwa found himself like a mercat, poking his head around trying to find you every once in a while

the time you’d spent together was short, but it was the most fun he’s had at these balls

and it showed, as noted by Hongjoong and Wooyoung with the week that followed after

he was spacing out, wondering what could have been if things were different

basically, homeboy was sulking bc he didn’t know when he could see you again or if you had someone or if you were even interested

Hongjoong: “how are we supposed to help him when we don’t even know who it is?”

Mingi: “didn’t you get a glimpse?”

Hongjoong: “I was busy with other things”

Wooyoung: “so you didn’t even ask for a name?”

Yeosang: “it’s (Y/N)”

all the boys:

Hongjoong: “how do you know that?”

Yeosang: “I was eavesdropping”

San: “um—”

Wooyoung: “wait, we know (Y/N)”

Yunho: “so am I throwing another party or?”

Wooyoung: “we can find (Y/N) first and then throw a party”

so, they kind of hunt you down to where you’re cleaning for the day

and Wooyoung asks you about Seonghwa

lowkey bc he wants the tea but also bc he wanted to make sure you’re not one of those insane people that are completely obsessed with him

(considering what he had to witness during that last ball)

and after passing his vibe check

he sends you to the library “to clean”

which is odd because you already cleaned it for the week but

Wooyoung: “I’m technically your boss, so go”

You: weirded out

also you: “okay”

little did you know, Seonghwa was already there, occupying himself with some new books while Hongjoong and Yeosang were keeping an eye out for you

who was lowkey trying to hide in the shadows and failing miserably bc of all the goddamned windows

Seonghwa spots your shadow, quickly getting up and following you

Seonghwa: “wait! (Y/N)?”

you turn around, a bit startled from the call out

Seonghwa: “I thought it was you”

you give a small bow to greet him

You: “my prince”

Seonghwa: “you can just call me Seonghwa”

Seonghwa: “I didn’t know you were here”

You: “I didn’t know you were here either”

he lets out a small chuckle

Seonghwa: “I meant I didn’t know you were staying in the castle”

You: “I’m not just staying here, I work here prin—Seonghwa”

Seonghwa: “well I guess that makes finding you a bit easier around here”

You: “you were looking for me?”

Seonghwa: “well, I like your company”

You: flushed

Seonghwa: “do you enjoy mine?”

You: “I’d be glad to bask in your presence”

and for a moment, it’s just the two of you

*cut to Hongjoong and Yeosang high-fiving in the back*

after that, the two of you spend more time together

it’s cute bc Seonghwa also likes to clean (which explains why there were never housekeepers needed for him)

so it means he also helps you clean and still have fun doing it

speaking of which, you got to find out how domestic he is and it melts your heart every time

especially when he’s interacting with children who visit the castle

so you can tell he really wants a family

bc he’s so good with kids and knows how to take care of people and what more can you really ask for

he’s also a great listener 

like he really knows what you need based on what you tell him

and when you opened up to him about what happened at home

he was just such a big sweetheart about it, asking if you’re okay and checking with you emotionally and it 

I LOVE PARK SEONGHWA SO MUCH 

anyways

so his parents did find out bc Wooyoung has a big mouth and def blabbed to San and everyone else in the goddamned kingdom who knows Wooyoung

rip Seonghwa

also rip everyone in the kingdom who found out bc again

Seonghwa is very desired amongst many

which also led to a lot of jealous people who gossiped about you but jokes on them bc you still have Seonghwa at the end of the day and they have jack shit :) 

back to what I was saying 

when his parents found out, they were totally accepting of it considering how happy the two of you are

(also you were lowkey fearful they were just gonna straight up kill you bc you aren’t royal, but also, they’re good rulers who care about people) 

which also meant they wanted to train you to help him run the kingdom but that’s a different story

anyways, prince charming!Seonghwa is indeed very charming

and gentlemanly and all that other good stuff

[theclockworkmonk]

Title: Intermission

Summary: During the intermission of "The Boy in the Iceberg," Zuko and Toph are fed up with Aang and Katara's drama.

Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender

Read on AO3

Read on FF.net

For Throwback Thursday, thought I'd post the first fanfic I ever wrote, back in August of 2013 (so excuse how...not good it is). The way Katara goes from rejecting Aang to kissing him with zero conversations in between always bothered me, so I wrote this scene that could have been a deleted scene in the episode, and to this day the type of fanfic I'm most drawn to is "missing" scenes that would have improved an aspect of the story. So awkward writing is what sucked me down this rabbit hole.

******

"Ow! What was that for?" Zuko rubbed his arm, suspecting a bruise would probably form.

Toph just smiled innocently. "That's how I show affection," she said as if she had just baked him a cake instead of physically assaulted him.

Zuko was glad Toph hadn't been with Aang, Katara, and Sokka back when he was chasing them on their way to the North Pole. They had given him enough bruises, lacerations, and concussions on their own. If Toph had been there, he'd probably still be eating through a straw.

"So, anyway, do you know where Aang is? I'm starting to worry. I told Sokka that this play wasn't worth the risk."

Toph just frowned, "Why are you asking me? In case you haven't noticed, this whole place is made out of the evil substance known as wood."

"I thought maybe you would know because he told you. Ya know, that's how the rest of us keep track of where people are."

"That sounds like a hassle," Toph said casually with a finger digging in her ear, "Anyway, Twinkle Toes is probably in the same place as Sugar Queen."

Zuko groaned for what seemed like the 12th time tonight. "Good. Maybe with them alone together they'll finally clear the air and allow the rest of us to move on with our lives."

"Hey, at least you just got here. Meathead and I have had to endure this drama for months."

"I honestly don't understand what their thinking is," Zuko sighed with his head in his hands, "At least you have the excuse that Sokka has a girlfriend."

Zuko saw Toph scowl a scowl that would even put Azula to shame. "I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about, and unless you want a more symmetrical face, you don't either."

Zuko rolled his eyes, "Whatever. I was surprised to find out they weren't official yet by the time I got here. Especially after Katara straight up threatened to kill me if I looked at him wrong."

"Wait, what now? You serious?"

"Yeah, it was the first night I spent at the Air Temple."

"Nah, she was bluffing."

"Toph, I grew up with Azula. I got pretty good at spotting lies. Katara meant every word she said. And it got even worse when I would try to train Aang. He would always make up some excuse about how he needed to practice more waterbending, even though he's been working on that almost a year."

Toph grunted in agreement, "You don't need to tell me. Just as I was about to break through his earthbending block, Her Sweetness comes in all 'Oh, don't worry, it's okay, we can practice waterbending. Come on, let's go splash around in our underwear.'"

"Yeah, I've been thinking that if they just got it out in the open then he could concentrate again. That's why I've been getting closer to Katara. I thought maybe if I piss him off enough he would man up and push me out of the way."

Toph smirked in her very self-satisfied way, "I knew it! Though, you might want to tell Snoozles about that plan. He's been worried that you really were interested in her. I guess that explains the seating arrangements this evening?"

Zuko rubbed the back of his head and smiled guiltily. "Yeah, I made double sure to sit next to Katara, and for a second he actually seemed like he was going to grow a backbone. I was thinking 'Come on, this is driving you crazy, isn't it? Call me out, why don't you want me sitting here?' but he hog-chickened out again. And I've been doing this for a while. After I saved Katara from being crushed at the temple, I made sure to stay on top of her just a little longer than necessary, but that just made her mad at me rather than him."

"And your little field trip?"

"Well, no, that really was just me trying to help her. But me decidedly not inviting anyone else, not even Sokka, to come help find Yon Rha had something to do with my meddling."

"And plus, it certainly seems like the play is helping you," Toph laughed.

Now it was Zuko's turn to scowl. "I actually think I got more than I bargained for with that. I'm just certain that if he finally told her he liked her, they could move forward and not be stuck in this limbo."

Toph looked confused, "Oh, she knows that he likes her. Did no one tell you that? He kissed her on the day of the invasion. Twinkle Toes waited until everyone else was gone, but he apparently forgot that they were standing on a giant metal submarine. He's kind of stupid like that."

Zuko just sat back, re-thinking his efforts, that he apparently had been wasting, "Well….huh. I guess I was wrong. Maybe she doesn't like him that way."

Toph sniggered in the way she always did when people failed to hide things from her, "Oh, she likes him, Sparky. You don't enjoy a kiss that much unless you do."

"You can tell?" Zuko asked in an alarmed voice. Toph's semi-mind-reading abilities still creeped him out.

"Oh yeah, her heartbeat went through the roof and she apparently forgot how to breathe until Meathead reminded her that we had a nation to invade."

Now Zuko was downright angry now. "Well then why the hell are they still dragging this out!?" He asked, probably too loudly.

Toph smirked and raised one eyebrow. "I think the better question is why you care so much. I mean, I find the drama annoying, sure, but you're really going above and beyond." She nudged him in the side and winked, "could it be that our own resident Angsty McEmopants is secretly a hopeless romantic?"

Zuko elbowed her back, "I'll have you know that I care as his firebending teacher. Firebending is fueled by raw emotion and passion," he nervously tried to figure out a euphemism, "and I just, um, thought that if he had a particular something that invokes certain….urges, then it would give him a little boost."

Toph grinned again. "So you're hoping that Sugar Queen makes him hot in more ways than one?"

Zuko groaned. "Well, if you must put it that way, yeah. You've been hanging out with Sokka too much." He stood up, "I'm going to go find them to see if they do something stupid."

And, sure enough…

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

Katara was a split second away from kissing Aang back when her eyes shot open

NO!

She pushed him away, trying to muster up some anger. "I just said I was confused!"

Aang simply looked down. He had the same look on his face as when she pulled him out of the Avatar state at the Southern Air Temple, and he had no choice but to accept that he was the last airbender.

"I'm going back inside." She had intended to calmly walk back into the theater, but she had to run to keep Aang from seeing her eyes watering. She burst through the doors and stopped a few steps in to try to get ahold of herself. That was when she heard the voice behind her.

"Katara, who exactly do you think you're fooling?"

She whirled around and saw Zuko standing behind the door, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Had he been listening?

"Yes, Katara, I was listening. So I'll ask you again, who do you think you're fooling?"

She turned around with a scowl on her face, determined not to get roped into this conversation. If she couldn't talk about Aang with Aang, how could she with Zuko? "Mind your own business, Zuko."

"Katara, you're a very gentle soul. You're peaceful, compassionate, understanding, slow to violence. To the point of stubbornness, in fact, which is one reason you two deserve each other. Hell, you didn't even kill the man who murdered your mother in cold blood. And yet even now, I don't doubt that you would have one second's hesitation to end me if you thought I might hurt Aang."

"Don't paint me in that light Zuko," She couldn't help but smirk, "I would totally give you one second's hesitation. Probably."

"So why are you putting up this 'confused' act?"

She put her hands on her hips and scowled, "You don't know how I feel, Zuko! Of course I'm overprotective of Aang, he's my best friend, not to mention that whole only-hope-for-the-world thing."

Zuko raised a skeptical eyebrow, "Your friend, huh? That's funny, because it's not Toph you were homicidally protective of, nor your own brother, who would be a lot easier for me to hurt, need I remind you. And don't think that I didn't notice you getting angry when those actors had you saying that you think of Aang as a brother. That wasn't a look of concern about Aang getting his feelings hurt, that was you pissed because they got something wrong about you."

"Well aren't you just the mind-reader?" she asked with enough sarcasm to upstage her brother.

"No, I'm not. I don't have to be. Newsflash Katara, the entire group knows. Sokka, Suki, Toph, even Duke, Haru, and Teo knew about it. Hell, all it takes is watching a single one of your 'waterbending sessions.'" He said the last two words with air-quotes.

Katara looked away nervously and blushed, "What do you mean by that?"

"Well, to be fair, I'm not a waterbender, but none of my training sessions involved my teachers pressing up against me from behind to correct my stance."

"So, I was making doubly sure he had the proper form, what's your point?"

"My point Katara, that I had the waterbending scroll in my hand as you were doing it, and he was already doing it right. There was no 'correcting' to be done."

"Alright, FINE!" She almost shouted, "Maybe I have some feelings for Aang, but…he can't afford any distractions or confusions right now."

"Katara, don't think that I'm stupid enough to believe that you're stupid enough to believe that. In what way would knowing that the person he loves loves him back and is there for him be a distraction? What is a distraction, however, is this game you're playing. Why do you think I'm here? I don't care about your love life, but this uncertainty is keeping me from doing my job as his teacher. Even after we trained with the dragons, Aang has been too timid, too hesitant. Firebending requires lowered inhibitions and absolute confidence in oneself. Now I know why he's been like that. Because the one time he was completely open and bold in his emotions about the thing most important to him, you left it hanging there untouched for weeks. And now that you've full-on thrown it back in his face, he might get even worse."

Katara couldn't keep her eyes from watering anymore, "Well then he should get over it! Get over me! What's the point, Zuko? It's not like my love for him will protect him! What, is your dad going to be so moved by our love for each other that he decides not to try to kill him?" She slumped against the wall and sat down, hugging her knees as tears streamed down her face, "He died in my arms once already in Ba Sing Se. I can't lose him all over again."

Zuko came over, sat down and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Before I left to join you, I had a girlfriend back home. Her name's Mai. You've already….become acquainted with her."

"I'm better acquainted with her knives, but whatever."

"When I left, I left a note for her saying that we weren't together anymore. I thought ending our relationship would make her lose her feelings for me, so that if anything happened to me, she wouldn't be hurt. Sokka and I are still alive because I was wrong. Even though we weren't technically together anymore, she still loved me enough to go against Azula and save my life, and I still love her enough for that knowledge that she's rotting in prison eat me alive every single day. Hiding behind words and technicalities about where you stand can't change how you feel. It just adds the weight of things not said if something does go wrong."

He stood up. "I'm going back to the seats. Think about it."

Toph was the only one already back when he got back to the balcony. "Have you seen Suki and Meathead yet?" he asked.

Toph answered with a punch to his gut, "Only I get to call him Meathead. But no. Honestly, Sokka has probably gotten them both thrown out of the theatre for harassing actor-Sokka. Twinkle Toes or Sugar Queen do something stupid?"

"Both did, actually. I think I might have managed to get to through to Katara."

People started shuffling in to retake their seats. "I will say this though, this intermission has definitely been the most dramatic part of the play so far."

[korgidorgi]

OUAT Regina Mills x Reader

Word count: 1637

Warnings: Like, one curse word

Summary: Takes place around S3 Ep13. Reader just arrived back in Storybrooke the previous day. They are chilling in Granny’s Diner, looking through some writings when Regina joins them. They have a chat about something strange that reader (you) had experienced in the past year. It had happened before, but when they were a kid, and it felt so real.

Gender is not specified.

Sitting in Granny’s Diner, you take a sip of your drink while flipping through the pages of two notebooks. One notebook has pages upon pages of storyline and sketches of characters. The other notebook contains notes about the first one, and this little town called Storybrooke, mostly about the people you’ve met in your short amount of time of being in this town since you arrived yesterday. Apparently, Emma, your childhood friend, is in the town too, and her son, Henry, who you haven’t seen in a year.

Emma had invited you for dinner with her, Henry, and a few friends last night, which you politely declined, but ended up going anyway. That’s where you met Mary Margaret and David. You’ve previously met Regina staring at your vehicle when you stopped in one of the stores yesterday when you first arrived; she was at the dinner too. Everyone was very nice, but something was bothering you, you didn’t know what it was at the time, but you’ve figured it out now, you think.

There’s something awfully familiar about the town and it’s people. Flipping through your journals, you finally connect the dots. Sitting in the booth behind you-

“Hey, do you mind if I sit with you?” A tentative voice brings you back to earth.

You look up, finding the dark haired woman from last night, and the same one you asked Mary Margaret about earlier this morning when you went to pick something up from her apartment that you’d left the previous night.

“No, not at all. Here-” you scramble your notes together to clear the table at least a bit from your spiraling ideas.

Regina takes a seat across from you as you try to organize your belongings, a little embarrassed about the mess.

“Sorry it's such a mess.” You apologize, throwing the loose papers and notes into your bag.

“It’s quite alright.” She responds, flashing you a small smile. “What are you writing?”

“Oh, I uh, I’ve been writing a story. Inspired from my dreams.” You nervously answer, not knowing where to look. “It sounds weird, right?”

“No, not at all.” She reassures, hesitantly placing a hand on top of yours briefly. “May I ask what your dreams are inspiring?”

“I’ve actually been writing in these journals for years, since I was a kid. I’ve always had really vivid dreams, and it was like they’d go in order, like episodes for a tv show.” You begin. “I got so into them, I started writing them down, and sometimes I’d draw some of the people as best I could from memory, but I was a kid, so they didn’t turn out very great. I’m currently looking back into it because I’ve had them again this past year, but they’ve suddenly stopped now. At least my sketches are better.” You chuckle.

“Well, they say follow your dreams.” She smiles over at you, pulling some hair from in front of her eyes. “What were they about?”

“I’m a pirate, I think, and during this past year I met a supposed “Evil Queen”, who I had met in my childhood dreams before.” You begin. “The first major scene I had was following her into a castle and trying to talk some sense into her before she tried to put a sleeping curse on herself. She told me she really missed her son, that there’s no reason for her to continue with her life. I felt bad for her and she poofed me away with some magic and I couldn’t find her again.” You tell her one of the major scenes in your dream, flipping through the pages of the first notebook you used at the re-beginning of the dreams and stopping on a certain page.

Flipping the notebook around for her to see, you let her take in the pencil sketch in front of her. The graphite etched into the paper depicts a mourning Queen sitting in a stone bench of a large room, her hair tied up and her body adorned by an intricately patterned dress, a dark cloak draped over her shoulders. In her hand, she holds a long needle, the tip coated with some dark substance; a potion or curse of some sort. Her features are soft but full of anguish, her eyes holding the most dejected look one could ever see as she looks down at the needle in her fingers.

You watch Regina take in the drawing for a moment before she finally speaks. “That’s very well drawn. And that’s from memory.” She comments, raising her eyebrows as if she’s impressed.

“Thank you, Regina.” You bashfully accept her compliment. “That’s how vivid these dreams are.” You add. “They feel like I’m actually experiencing them. Like I’m traveling to another world and living it.”

She nods at your statement, eyes fixed on the sketch again.

You speak up again, “Can I tell you something? It’s going to sound crazy, but I need to get this out of my head.”

“Of course.” She returns her gaze to you, awaiting what you have to say.

You think for a moment what you want to say first before finally saying one of your thoughts that’s been bugging you ever since you first saw her. “Have we met before?” You blurt out the question, not able to keep your words in check. “I just can’t shake the feeling that I’ve seen you somewhere, that I’ve known you from somewhere.”

“I don’t think we have.” Regina answers. “I think I’d remember someone as-” She cuts herself off, pausing for a moment to look for the right words. “Someone as adventurous as you.”

“Oh. Okay.” You look down, “Sorry, that was a weird question.”

“No, not at all, Dear.” Regina reassures you.

You flash her a small smile, catching something out of the corner of your eye. A man passes your booth, not noticing your glance at him and leading Henry out of the Diner, to watch over him, you suspect. Regina notices your look, but before she can say anything, you’re flipping through the pages of your journal, muttering to yourself about “where is it”. Regina watches you as you finally stop on a certain page, completely confused and utterly shocked.

“I’ve seen him before…” You gape at your journal.

A sketch of a pirate’s portrait takes up the upper half of the page, as if drawn for a character profile in a novel with a description underneath the sketch. The man has short but well kept hair, one of his eyebrows raised slightly as if to taunt whomever it is he was interacting with at the time of the sketch. His stubble beard brings out some of his more attractive features and he sports a small black earring, almost covered by his black coat’s collar.

“Somehow, my subconscious knew him, and here he is.” You marvel.

“It might just be a coincidence.” Regina suggests. “Your brain doesn't forget faces, maybe you’ve seen someone like him somewhere and your mind just put him in there.”

“Maybe. But how weird is this?”

“I’ll admit, it is pretty weird.” Regina says. “Hey, I’m gonna go grab a drink from the counter, I’ll be right back.” Regina gets up to make her way to the counter of the Diner.

You flip through your journals, looking at all the characters you had sketched from your dream. You notice Regina saying hi to Emma and continue trying to think through what you had just confessed to Regina. Is it weird you told her something so bizarre even though you’ve only just met her yesterday?

Suddenly, the door bursts open and Mary Margaret’s friend, who was going to help her with the baby, walks into the diner. The aura around the woman wasn’t like anything you’d felt. She looks to be intimidating everyone in the diner, yet Regina doesn’t seem to flinch at the sudden entrance like everyone else. The woman waltzes right up to Regina, vengeful determination written all over her features. You watch as she gets up in Regina's face, trying so hard to intimidate her, but failing. You stand to go join Regina at the counter and try to see if you can get another drink.

“Oh, she never told you?” You hear the strange woman say, as she goes on about her being Regina’s sister.

“Of course she didn’t tell me, otherwise I’d know I have a sister.” Regina snaps back, holding her ground.

You interject before the energy in the room gets even more uncomfortable. “Ok, you’re making kind of a scene and people are staring. So, whatever sibling rivalries you have, can you put them on hold and sort them out somewhere else so you don’t cause a scene?”

“Who do you think you are?” The woman sneers. “Do you even know who you’re talking to?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.” You simply state, before trying to shoo the Karen out. “But if you’re going to bring drama in here and bother everyone in the Diner, Karen, you can leave, please and thank you.”

You guide her out the door and watch her huff as she turns to walk away. “Regina, meet me tonight, we’ll settle our differences then. You all haven’t heard of the last of me!”

You turn back to Regina to find the whole diner looking at you. “What? Did I do something wrong?”

Regina approaches you, placing her hands on your upper arms in an attempt to comfort you. “No, you’ve done nothing wrong.” She reassures, looking out the door to watch the woman disappear from view. “Thank you for kicking her out.”

“You’re welcome.” You respond, still slightly nervous. “She was being a bitch to you.” You mutter.

Your response causes Regina to release a small chuckle. “I have a protector now?”

“I guess…” You mumble.

[threecrowsinatrenchcoat]

Paint My Spirit Gold

Dukeceit Week Day 2: Green/Yellow

Fans of the YouTubers "Deceit" and Remus "The Duke" Sanders start to suspect that maybe, just maybe, the two of them are more than simple internet pals.

AO3 Link: [here]

Word Count: 2187

Warnings: n/a

@dukeceitweek <3

-

[ID: A screenshot of a Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It features a watercolor-style painting of a snake. The snake appears to be made of melting chocolate, and there is a large bite taken out of its tail. Cherries and jam are leaking out of the snake at the bite wound. The snake's expression of horror is overly-exaggerated to the point of comedy. The caption reads: "liked your snake boi, @SerpenThyme. thanks for the inspo." /end ID]

- 

A notification ding cut Janus off mid-sentence. 

“Wow, someone left their cell phone on, so professional,” he said, giving the camera a dramatic eye roll. That someone was him, of course, because he was the only one in the apartment- just him and the running livestream- but that was no excuse not to be a drama queen about it. He finished wiping flour off his hands and grabbed his phone to silence it; but the notification made him pause. He flicked his eyes up toward the camera and gave a slight smirk.

“My goodness, I’m famous,” he drawled. “The Duke himself has graced little old me with some fan art.”

Most of the comments in the chat wanted him to show it, so Janus opened up Twitter to see the full post he’d been tagged in. It was a watercolor painting of the coiled-snake chocolate sculpture- lovingly named Jake by his viewers- he’d made for his YouTube video last week; it was wearing an expression of such comedic horror that Janus had to stifle a laugh. He flicked his phone screen toward the close-up camera on his counter so his viewers could see.

“How kind of you, Remus,” he said. “All of you should go scold him for what he’s done to poor Jake here.”

Most of his viewers would know he was joking- after all, they were the ones to nickname him Deceit when he provided neither a real or fake name for his online persona. They knew full well what he was like by now.

The oven timer dinged. Janus silenced his phone and set it aside.

“And our first batch of cookies is done. You know, why don’t we show the Duke some appreciation?”

-

[ID: An Instagram post by user @SerpenThyme. The photo is an artistically-framed shot of a stack of sugar cookies with green, yellow, and pink icing. Propped up against the stack is another cookie, with an intricate icing-drawing of an octopus. The photo appears to have been color corrected to have high contrast, low saturation, and a dark vignette at the edges. The Instagram user @OctoDukie is tagged. No caption. /end ID]

- 

“You know, I have often been accused of actually being a little old lady, what with my fondness for knitted jumpers, rocking chairs, and incredibly fucked up murder mystery books. Today I am doing nothing to dispel this accusation, by making soup.”

The studio was dark and empty aside from Remus' workspace. Everyone else had left long ago, even his own brother, which meant that it was officially ass-o'clock in the morning (or, as most people called it, somewhere between 1 and 2 a.m.) But Remus was stuck in hyperfocus, honed in on putting the last touches on a commission that he'd been putting off for weeks. It's not that it was a tough painting- once he'd gotten started, it was actually a very creatively satisfying piece- but man, executive dysfunction could go suck a dick

“French onion soup, specifically. Because while I do like to pretend I am a classy bitch, I am also, regrettably, a lazy bitch with a distaste for anything that takes longer than one bottle of wine to make.”

Remus hated working in silence. It was stifling, almost suffocating. His brain needed noise like his lungs needed air. So when the studio had grown still and silent, Remus had flipped open his laptop and queued up some YouTube videos. 

“So we have here three pounds of onions that we need to slice up, pole to pole. You’re going to cry no matter what, so if you have any memories you’ve been repressing since middle school, now is an excellent time to dredge those up.” 

And if it happened to be 90% SerpenThyme videos, well. Sue him. 

“Now the first rule of caramelizing onions: fast and sloppy is always better than slow and thorough… at least, that’s what every man I’ve ever slept with tells me.”

Remus choked and glanced over to his laptop screen just in time to catch Deceit's trademark smirk directed at the audience just for a moment. It was the deadpan delivery that always got him. Remus could barely hold onto a joke long enough to get through it without cackling mid-punchline, but this fucker could say the funniest shit like an off-hand comment. 

He wiped his hands off on his jeans (what use were clothes if you couldn't use them as paint rags?) and pulled his laptop across the table.  He typed out a quick comment, citing the timestamp of the joke, and after it was posted, he shut his laptop. 

'Cause ass-o'clock was short for "get-your-ass-home-or-I’ll-kick-it" o'clock. 

-

[ID: A screenshot of a YouTube comments section. The first comment is by user TheDuke, and reads: "10:42 wow, rude." The second comment is a reply by user SerpenThyme, and simply reads ";)" /end ID]

-

Janus plopped down on the couch with a slight groan. He didn’t need to stream today, but he really hated missing days. Besides… he was fine. Really. 

He adjusted the camera until he was happy with the framing, and then checked the settings on his streaming software. Satisfied, he started the stream, and watched as his usual viewers rolled in. 

“What do you mean I’m not in my kitchen?” Janus drawled, addressing the chat. He glanced around with an expression of faux-shock on his face. “My goodness, when did that happen?”

He chuckled, and then gestured to his surroundings. “Yes, we are in my living room today. If you must know, my closest and most trusted friend tried to murder me today- yes, Virgil, it was attempted murder and nothing less- and I survived with nary a scratch… and a broken foot, but that is beside the point. Anyway, I’m not allowed to stand for long periods of time, and I may or may not be somewhat inebriated by pain pills and couldn’t stand even if I wanted to. So we are cooking from my couch today.”

Janus paused for a few moments to read the chat messages as they popped up. A few get well soon’s, a few theories about the “attempted murder,” Virgil- who moderated his chat for him- vehemently denying the “attempted murder” but otherwise refusing to clarify the event, and a large volume of wtf why are you streaming today, take care of yourself comments, which made him smile. But one particular comment caught his eye, almost lost amid the torrent of an active chat: wait this kinda looks like the Duke’s living room?

“Oh, VampSuga,” he said, addressing that commenter in particular with a slight smirk. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about. Anyway, since I can’t reach my oven from here, I thought some no-bake cookies were in order. For these you will need-”

-

[ID: A screenshot of a Discord conversation. The text reads:

“VampSuga: Ok ok hear me out. Dukeceit. 

Starstruck96: who?

IneffableSnek: lmao

FeralBeauYasha: lol

VampSuga: Deceit and Remus Sanders! They’re totally dating. I will die on this hill. 

FeralBeauYasha: Isn’t the duke w/ PatPat?

IneffableSnek: no thats his brothers bf

FeralBeauYasha: ohh

VampSuga: Did anyone see Deceit’s stream today? I swear that’s the Duke’s livingroom. 

StarStruck96: idk that seems like a stretch

IneffableSnek: no wait i kno what u mean

IneffableSnek: im watching the duke’s old videos and that one where he shows off all his old weapons he’s in a living room kinda like deceit’s 

FeralBeauYasha: They were acting all cute on twitter too

VampSuga: DUKECEIT”  /end ID]

-

"Hey guys, been a while since you've seen my face and not just whatever my hands are busy with, when it's within YouTube's terms and conditions I mean. They used to be way more lenient…" Remus trailed off for a moment, then shook his head sharply and plastered on a grin. 

"Anyway! In June me and a few other creators did a fundraiser for the Trevor Project, and y'all smashed the goal, so I let you decide what video I'd make this month." He paused, and gestured to the mountain of clothes piled behind him on the bed. "And you had so many juicy ideas to choose from, but you decided to dress me up like a Barbie instead."

Remus paused to scroll through his phone for a few moments. "Ah, ok, here we go. Twitter user YoonIsMyCat- oh, BTS, nice- sent in this first outfit. Uh… future Remus, put up the post here somewhere." He gestured vaguely to his right. "Y'all went with either a fuckton more clothes or a fuckton less clothes, which I respect. Apparently this outfit is called…” He squinted at his phone. “Amish chic? I take it back, no respect at all.”

Remus cycled through the outfits his viewers sent in, which ranged from the aforementioned “Amish chic” to “2008 rave attire” to “ok now you guys are just fucking with me” (which consisted of one of those big puffy snow coats, lime green in color; booty shorts with the shrug text emoji across the ass; fuzzy pink boots; and a yellow cowboy hat to top off the whole thing. It was awful. Remus loved it.) The mountain of clothes on the bed gradually became a mess of clothes spread across the floor instead, until there was just one outfit left. 

“Ok so Twitter user VampSuga sent me this outfit that I’m gonna call ‘sexy librarian.’ I couldn’t find this exact sweater online, but-” he paused for dramatic effect, before brandishing a sweater toward the camera like a bullfighter. “My boyfriend had something that was close enough.”

Remus hopped up from the bed and switched off the camera so he could change.

“They’re going to lose their minds,” a voice drawled from the doorway. Remus threw his shirt at him.

“Shoo, I’m getting naked.”

-

[ID: A Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It features a selfie of YouTuber Remus “The Duke” Sanders, a Hispanic man with his hair dyed green and styled into a spiked mohawk. He is wearing a yellow knitted cardigan over a black button-up shirt. He is grinning widely at the camera. The caption reads: “my viewers pick my outfits! now live on youtube. go see what i look like as a sexy librarian!” /end ID]

-

DukeceitStan

first and only dukeceit shipper ig

DukeceitStan

wow there’s so many of you now! Hi!!

DukeceitStan

i want this to be canon so bad omg

DukeceitStan

i mean just look

[image]

how 

[image]

cute

[image]

[ID: A series of three gifs featuring Youtubers SerpenThyme, aka Deceit, and TheDuke, aka Remus Sanders. Deceit is a black man with long, dreadlocked hair, and vitiligo patches along the left side of his face. Remus is a Hispanic man with green-dyed hair styled into a mohawk, many ear and facial piercings, and tattoos covering both arms. Each gif is edited so that the highlights are tinged yellow when Deceit is seen, and tinged green when Remus is seen.

The first gif depicts a close-up shot of Deceit’s hands as he carefully decorates a cookie with green and yellow icing. The cookie art he is working on appears to be a half-finished octopus. The gif then fades into a mid-shot of Remus, with his back to the camera, facing a canvas. The canvas is blank, and Remus appears to be laying out paints on a table to his left. 

The second gif depicts Deceit seated at his couch, facing the camera. He has many ingredients spread across his coffee table (including oats, cocoa powder, and butter) and appears to be in the process of laying out several more. The gif fades to show Remus seated at a similar couch with a similar coffee table in front of him. The camera is angled slightly downward to better show the myriad of knives spread out across the table. Remus is gesturing wildly with a morning star held in his hand. 

The third gif depicts Deceit in his kitchen. He is pulling on a bright, yellow knitted cardigan, and smirking toward the camera. The gif fades to show Remus in his bedroom, seated on his bed. He is holding up a similar-looking cardigan toward the camera and grinning. /end ID]

- 

“Remus, it’s almost two in the morning. Come to bed.”

“I’m coming, sorry. Twitter distracted me.”

“Mm. I can’t believe the bird app is more distracting than I am.”

“You should try harder.”

“Come to bed and maybe I will.”

“Ok, ok, I’m coming. Hang on though, is it cool if I post this?”

“Sure. They figured it out anyway.”

“Sweet. Ok, Jannie, I’m coming.”

-

[ID: A screenshot of a Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It reads: “Dukeceit is canon.” /end ID] 

[redwinterroses]

ren /asked/ martyn, but what if etho had the same urge to go red, and tricked someone into doing it?

Yeah so this is… wonky with canon timeline a bit, possibly, and honestly if you want to go red there are easier ways to do it just go jump off a crastle or something Ren is just a drama queen -- but Everything Is AU anyway (AU stands for Angst Universe apparently) so whatever. Oh also I can’t write swordfights. XD enjoy

[tw for blood, stabbing death, character death and general 3rd Life violent angst]

It took Etho a little while to figure out what would trigger Scar’s bloodlust. The sand-and-scam king was almost as much of a wildcard as Etho himself, which made it harder – this whole thing would have been a lot easier if someone like Tango or Bdubs had gone red first. They were much easier to predict.

But at the moment, Scar was the only option, and Etho couldn’t afford to wait for someone else to turn.

He finally got the in he needed while Grian was away, probably plotting or planting some sort of trap. From the treetop where he perched on the edge of the sand lands, Etho watched until Scar was alone and then jumped lightly down from the oak’s branches, keeping to the shadow of the forest’s edge.

Hey Scar, he typed into his communicator. You got any red dye?

He didn’t need dye. But he knew Scar had some squirreled away, and he also knew that the opportunity to strike a deal would be impossible to resist.

I might, came the reply. For a price. >:)

Perfect.

He made his way quickly across the desert as dusk fell over the sands. The tower atop Monopoly Mountain glowed against the darkening sky, and he felt a tingle of apprehension run through him – was he really doing this? It ran against every instinct he had.

He pushed away the nerves and started up the path that spiraled toward the tower. He had a plan, and he was sticking to it.

“Etho, my friend!” Scar greeted him as he reached the top. The red-life was standing, leaning against the wall of his tower with his arms crossed and his hat tilted low over his eyes. He smiled broadly at Etho. “Have you come to the desert to gain dye… and possibly reputation points?”

Etho tugged his mask beneath his chin and matched Scar’s friendly expression. “Just the dye, thanks,” he said. He took a deep breath and headed directly for the door leading into the tower.

“Woah, woah, woah, woah there – not so fast.” Scar darted between him and the door. “You can’t just walk in here – this is our base. If you want something, you gotta pay something in return.”

“Mmmm…” Etho sidestepped around Scar and pushed open the door to the tower. “I don’t think I do.”

Scar squawked and started spluttering and for a moment Etho was afraid he’d just stand there and take the disrespect. He turned his back on Scar and lifted the lid of the closest chest, peering inside.

“Ooh, you got some good stuff in here,” he said, reaching in to grab a couple of iron ingots. “I bet Ren would love to have some of this lapis—”

He was cut off by the sound of a sword being drawn, and he froze.

“Get out, Etho,” Scar ordered. “Or you’ll… you’ll regret it. You’re yellow, don’t forget.”

A slow smile crossed Etho’s face, and he gently let the lid of the chest close.

“Oh, Scar,” he said, not looking around. “Are you really trying to threaten me?”

“I’m not trying, I’m doing!” Scar sounded more indignant than enraged, but Etho could work with that.

He stood, and slowly drew his own sword. Quicker than thought, he whirled on Scar and attacked, immediately driving Scar back toward the door.

“Cool, cool, cool,” he said, keeping his voice scary calm. He caught Scar’s counterattack and parried it deftly. “But that totally counts as an attack, right? So like… I can kill you now.”

The Scar Etho knew in the past would have probably cracked a joke there, and either retreated to a defensive position or else attacked with wild and cheerful abandon, recklessly risking life and limb without a care. In a world where death was little more than an inconvenience, they could play at battling gods all day long.

But here… here, Scar was different. In this world, bloodlust tingled through his veins and tinged his vision red and clouded his judgement – just as Etho had hoped.

“Come on, Red,” he taunted, the iron of his sword scraping along Scar’s diamond blade. “Is that all you got for me?”

“You don’t want to do this, Etho,” Scar warned and his next blow came with a force that surprised Etho, who stumbled back slightly and just managed to fend off the sweeping attack. His sword was already dulling – iron couldn’t stand up to diamond for long – but he only needed to goad Scar a little further. Ducking under the next swing, he came up under Scar’s arm and scored a slicing wound across his unarmored rib-cage.

Apparently, that was all it took, and Scar let out a roar of fury. Good to know, Etho thought. Pain unlocks the bloodlust faster. Noted. He staggered back under a rain of blows, legitimately taken aback by Scar’s ferocity. Do you actually get stronger on red? Gripping his weapon with both hands, he caught a particularly heavy swing against the crossguard—

And Scar’s diamond sword sheared straight through the iron, leaving Etho holding a useless hilt. The nicked-and-battered blade clattered to the ground at his feet.

With a triumphant shout, Scar lunged forward and drove his weapon home: thrusting the sharp point through Etho’s body.

It. Hurt. Like. Hell.

Etho choked and tasted blood in his throat. He staggered back, catching himself against the cool, sandstone wall with Scar’s blade still in his chest.

The red light in Scar’s eyes was flickering, and he looked down at his hands on the sword hilt with a frown. “Wait, Etho, I—”

With a snarl of pain, Etho reached out and gripped the blade, letting the hilt of his own sword tumble to the floor. The diamond edges cut into his fingers, but he gritted his teeth and pulled, yanking Scar close to his face and driving the sword deeper into his own chest.

He grinned at Scar with blood in his teeth, and he could feel the warmth of his right eye fading to a red that matched his left.

“Thanks, Scar,” he rasped. “Couldn’t have done it without you, buddy.”

And he fell to the floor, red darkness whelming up to catch him. The last thing he saw was Scar’s horrified face, and words flashing across his vision:

Etho was slain by GoodTimeWithScar

[carewyncromwell]

“I think that somehow, somewhere inside of us, We must be similar, if not the same, So I continue to be wanting you, Left of center, against the grain... And if you want me, you can find me Left of center, off of the strip, In the outskirts and in the fringes, In the corner, out of the grip...” ~“Left of Center,” by Suzanne Vega

x~x~x~x

I BLAME THAT OTP AU ASK FOR THIS COMPLETELY. Once I got the image of Hipster!Barista!Orion in my head, I just had to slap it down on paper to get it out of my head. 

A few notes on his tattoos: on his neck, you might just barely make out a hamsa, or Hand of Fatima, which can protect against the evil eye and bring good fortune; on the outside of Orion’s arm closest to us, we have a magpie surrounding by flowing ocean waves, and finally, on the inside of his other arm that you can’t see as well is the Orion constellation. And he has multiple piercings because of course he does. 

So yes. Orion Amari is a senior barista at a coffee shop called the Jam City Cafe (LOL) who’s best known for his wonderfully chill attitude and for his tendency to dispense oddly wise advice to his more regular patrons. It wouldn’t be unlikely to see him in a supporting role in some Hollywood hopeful’s screenplay as this odd sage that helps the leading lady with her romantic turmoil in the third act and then disappears into the void, never to be seen again. And honestly, as much of a fixture as Orion is at the coffee shop and therefore in many people’s day-to-day existence, not a lot of people know him very well. Most people don’t know that he was a philosophy major in college, or that he was the captain and second striker of his high school football team, or that he was raised exclusively in foster care, with no permanent home to call his own. But Orion isn’t troubled by this -- he’s always been sort of on the outside looking in and he’s more than used to people not understanding his thought process. As long as his life remains interesting and he’s able to eventually get where he wants to go, that’s all that really matters. And in the meantime, he’ll keep on making orders for his regular customers -- “Doppio with extra foam,” “Iced White Caffe Mocha,” “Cafe au Lait spiked with Kahlua” -- he knows them by their orders more than their names. 

One regular customer in particular, who Orion is rather fond of, is the one he calls “Salted Caramel Macchiato,” or just “Caramel,” casually. She’s always the first customer to pick up a cup of coffee every morning when the shop opens at 4:00, and she almost always sweeps back in the evening so as to work on her laptop for a few hours while sipping another. She’ll often have music playing in her earbuds while she’s working at her laptop, meaning Orion wasn’t able to talk to her for the longest time for fear of disrupting her focus -- so instead he would merely watch her curiously. From watching, Orion sussed out that she worked in a law office -- he noticed a logo letterhead featuring a set of scales on one of the documents she was editing on her laptop one day. And admittedly, she did dress the part too: every time he saw Caramel, she always wore sharp tailored jackets, colorful blouses, and vintage A-line skirts or wide-leg trousers, her ginger hair was always combed into a neat bob, and her lips were painted a daring red. Despite her conservative and very put-together look and the meticulous regularity of her schedule, however, Caramel did possess some interesting quirks. For one, her music didn’t match her look at all -- there were times Orion could hear the faintest sounds of rock and roll blaring out of her earbuds. Other times she actually would absently sing some of the songs aloud, and her half-hearted voice actually sounded kind of pretty. Her laptop wallpaper was a family picture with her standing with what looked like an older brother and her mother outside their lit-up house at Christmas with snow in their hair and trying desperately not to laugh while the older brother dances about, wearing his Christmas scarf like a feather boa. Whenever she’d turn on her laptop, Caramel would always take a minute to look over the picture and smile fondly before getting to work. Then there was the fact that she wasn’t the least bit stuck-up -- even if she didn’t really have time to socialize, she always looked every employee, from the baristas to the cleaning staff, straight in the eye and thanked them, rather than just treat them like automatons like a lot of the other customers that would stroll through. She also always tipped. 

And so, the one evening that Orion was closing and he saw Caramel not wearing her earbuds, he approached her. Apparently someone snatched the earbuds out of her desk at work that day, and so she decided not to play any music while she worked, so as not to disrupt anyone. Since Orion and Caramel were the only ones in the shop that night, Orion said he wouldn’t mind if she wanted to play something. 

“Preferably something softer than what you were playing yesterday, however,” he added with a wry smile. 

Caramel had to laugh behind her hand, her almond-shaped blue eyes creasing slightly. “Oh -- I’m sorry, did it bother you?”

“Not at all,” said Orion. “But it did make for an entertaining image, seeing someone so poised fighting back the urge to headbang to the beat in her ears.”

Caramel smiled. “What can I say? Queen is iconic.”

Turning her focus back to her laptop, she then proceeded to turn on some slightly quieter soft rock, including a song about butterflies that she said was by Michael Jackson. She couldn’t help but sing along to the chorus once or twice under her breath -- the second time when she caught herself, Caramel quickly glanced up at Orion as if to apologize, only to meet his eyes.

“You have a lovely voice,” he complimented her. 

Caramel glanced away, smiling modestly. “...Thank you.” 

“I liked the song you were singing last Tuesday,” he pressed on, as he brought his cleaning rag along the espresso machine behind the counter. “I would’ve said so at the time, but you looked to be in no state to have a conversation.”

Carewyn gave something of a grimace. “Mm...yeah, Tuesday was a bit rough.”

Orion placed his arms on the counter and leaned forward, clearly ready to listen. Caramel, however, shook her head dismissively. 

“Work drama. Nothing that exciting, just exhausting enough that you want an escape from it, when the workday is done...”

She typed away at her laptop as the next song in her playlist started. 

“Which artist sings this?” asked Orion, as he shifted himself back up off the counter so he could continue cleaning. 

“Suzanne Vega.”

Orion listened for a moment, closing his eyes absently. “...This is her, I think. The musician you were singing along to on Tuesday. There is a similar aura, to the lyrics -- detached and understated, and yet rhythmic in its poetry.”

Caramel’s almond-shaped blue eyes lit up. “Oh, I know which song you mean now...hold on...”

She opened her music directory and browsed the songs until she found what she was looking for and double-clicked on it. Once it started, Orion’s mouth spread into a full smile. 

“That’s the one,” he said.

He spritzed the counter with some cleaner and started to wipe it down.

“Sing as loud as you’d like,” he added without looking up. “Calming music can be very helpful in finding one’s center of balance.”

Caramel cocked an eyebrow. “‘Finding one’s center of balance?’”

“Certainly. One always does their best work when one’s mind is at peace, their spirit focused, and their aura balanced, wouldn’t you say?”

“I suppose so. I just don’t know if I would’ve phrased it that way.”

“As to be expected,” said Orion. “You seem like the sort of person who never is at a loss for how to phrase things in your own way.”

Caramel blinked. Then her lips spread into a full, wry white smile of her own. 

“And you seem like the sort of person who anyone would be foolish to underestimate.”

Orion’s black eyes glittered with something oddly like mischief as Caramel once again returned to typing away on her laptop. Not long after, he caught her singing along to the song in a fuller voice: the perfect accompaniment for him while he finished bussing the counter. 

Caramel’s voice was really quite pretty -- like a robin’s. 

From that day on, Caramel would take out her earbuds if she and Orion were the only ones in the cafe during closing hours. Sometimes they’d chat about philosophy, or animals, or the Olympic games -- once they even had a deep, meandering conversation about the movie Labyrinth being a metaphor for a young woman coming of age and the importance of fantasy stories to a child’s developing mind. And on those nights that were more crowded and Caramel had her earbuds in her ears, Orion couldn’t help but “reach out” anyway by drawing little custom designs in the foam of her Salted Caramel Macchiatos. One of his very first was a Michael-Jackson-worthy butterfly. 

[springalwayscomes]

Make It Right

Plot: Life in quarantine sucks, says Jin. We can make it better, you say. Truth is, you make it all right.

Pairing: Jin x Reader

Genre: Humor, Fluff, Established Relationship

Wordcount: 1.5k

Content Warning: swearing

Author’s Note: This is the last fic of this project and I think it’s a good ending. I hope this little gift I made made you smile and brung at least a little amount of happiness to your holidays. Thank you for reading, if you want to check out the other three fics of this project you can find them on the Life Goes On Project Masterlist. Again, happy holidays!

The sun is almost gone, and Jin is still sitting on that sofa, eyes fixed on his phone and long legs stretched out on the soft pillows. He’s been there since this morning, barely getting up for lunch and immediately going back to his safe place right after. His expression doesn’t give him away, not even a little bit. Usually he’d be laughing while looking at his phone for such a long time, watching comedians video on YouTube, but this time it’s totally different. And even though you’re sure he’s trying to hold himself back, you can see there’s something wrong.

«Jin?»

His shoulders raise, stay still for a few seconds, gaze still fixated on his phone before he slowly - finally - raises it, his shoulders falling down as he exhales.

«Yes?»

You stand still, worried eyes on him and hands down on your sides, Jin’s face slightly lights up at your view, but the happy look in his eyes doesn’t lasts longer than a bunch of seconds.

«Are you okay? You seem sad, did something happen?» you take a few steps, testing the waters as your boyfriend lowers his eyes back onto his phone. It’s Christmas Day, you hate to see him like this - especially today -, he should be happy and celebrating.

You know what could be going on, all the stress of this endless quarantine - it shouldn’t, but it’s actually quite stressful waking up at 12 and having nothing to do for the whole day -, and not spending today with his family or yours like you usually would, the feeling of missing performing and the cheers of the fans.

«Nothing,» he fakes a smile «I’m okay»

At this point, you reach down for him, tilting his head with your index. It’s nothing, but your touch brings Jin back to life - just the slightest -.

«You’re not,» you pout «I can see it. Tell me what’s going on inside your head?»

Jin doesn’t really want to bring your mood down, he knows you felt as low as him the last days but decided to look at things from a different view. Quarantine doesn’t necessarily have to be boring and gloomy, and he thought that just enjoying his free time without really worrying about it would’ve worked. Apparently, it didn’t, and he’s just feeling as low as you a few days ago.

«Life in quarantine sucks» he just bursts out, he lets his hands fall limp onto his tights without considering he’s still holding his phone, which hits his right thigh and makes him squeeze his eyes shut. Just the view of his expression makes you smile. He always had this power, the most beautiful face with the most comedic character, such a drama queen.

«Weren’t you the one who told me to “get up and enjoy it”? There are things to do too here, it’s still Chris-»

«Forget all the shit I said. It just sucks!» his face is almost red as he bursts out in a scream and gets up from the sofa, his phone falling on the floor and his face blanking out for just a second. Then his eyes fall shut once again, the pain of the phone that just hit his foot making him hiss. «See? It sucks!»

You hold back a little laugh as he sits back on the sofa, checking his phone for any damage. Not a single scratch, only his foot is red now.

«Alright, it sucks. But we can make it better, slightly less lousy. You’d be in your house anyway tonight, Christmas dinner was up to us this year, shouldn’t we at least have it?» you try. Jin huffs, raising a hand in the air at your direction.

«I don’t have enough desire to live to get up» he explains himself, already smiling at your expression. As if trying to lift a 5’10’’ man wasn’t already enough of an effort, he pulls you towards him and you end up in his lap in the blink of an eye.

«Can’t we just stay here?»

«You really aren’t going to eat on Christmas dinner? Noodles, bulgogi, kimc-»

«Get up» it’s all he says before you both start laughing out loud at his mood change. His laugh makes you feel lighter and brings you back to life, happiness filling the air as you turn around and watch his white teeth and his big smile, eyes sparkling. It really makes you feel lighter.

«We can still celebrate» you murmur, Jin nodding as his laughter dies out. Apparently, laughing just a little brung him back in a good mood, of which you’re definitely happy a part.

«I just feel lonely. I’ve got you, but it’s... Christmas shouldn’t be like this» his tone is more serious than before, not acting as a comedian anymore. His hand reaches your hip and gently strokes it, light touch that reminds you of how much you love him.

«I know, baby» you smile softly. It’s true, Christmas shouldn’t be like this. Thankfully, you’re not completely alone. Jin is been a great company during the quarantine and more than ever the only reason you smiled until now during these endless days. The least you could do is do the same for him now.

«But it’s still Christmas, and you’re not completely alone. I’m here with you, and I-»

His lips are on yours before you can do anything about it. It’s sudden, and you’re taken aback at the beginning, but the warm feeling of his arms around your stomach and the tickling of his hair at your forehead remember you that you should probably kiss him back, because missing a kiss from him would be just a maddening thing to do. His fleshy lips are soft against yours, his tongue in your mouth moves delicately and the feeling in your chest is low key the same as when your mother used to hug you every Christmas after giving you her gift; fondness, love, happiness, joy. Just differently.

As you part, your eyes opening and the haze in your mind finally becoming thinner, you can’t help but look at him with wondering eyes. Jin understands them but doesn’t answer. What you don’t know is that his heart is beating like crazy, just like the first time. He needed to kiss you to remind himself he still has something to celebrate for, someone. Christmas can still be Christmas, after all. You make it Christmas.

«Let’s go make dinner» he mumbles.

Thirty minutes later the kitchen is a mess and Jin can’t do anything else but boss you around, playfully slapping your ass right after calling each other names like lazy ass, your tongue sticking out at him.

Your playlist echoing in the room keeps you company as you both prepare the noodles, your hips moving on the beat of Make It Right and his lips letting out melodies without even realizing it.

When the noodles are done too, all he can do is stare at the full plates on the counter as you put the pot into the sink.

The eternal night with no end in sight

It’s you who gifted me the morning

Can I now hold that hand?

Oh oh

I can make it right

He sings just like before, but it’s inevitable how his eyes shift to your figure while saying those words now.

His thoughts are silent, just like his love for you right now, but his body needs you close. He reaches out, his hand grabbing yours, holding it and feeling your cold fingers intertwine with his as he looks at your face.

«I can make it right» you smile at him, humming to the song.

Hell yes, you can make it right. It doesn’t matter what that “it” is, you can make anything, everything right for him. And he’s totally fine with it.

Truth is, life in quarantine would have really sucked without you, life in general would suck without you. This Christmas would suck without you, all of this would be just as useless as this song sings, anything other than you.

«You can» he smiles at you.

One, two, three, four, five kisses on your lips - seven now - and his stomach is rumbling, the romanticism of the moment turning out into laughters and sparkly eyes.

Jin wards off to take the cutlery from the drawers as you decide it’s time to bring your dishes to the dining room, placing them on the table and releasing a sigh of relief. This Christmas is certainly different, but you’re spending it with the right person.

Coming back to the kitchen to help him take the rest of the things in the other room you find him with the bowl of kimchi in his hands, his ass sticking out from time to time on Suga’s part of Make It Right, rapping his soul out as he awkwardly attempts to twerk.

«Jin?»

«Ah!» he screams, stuttered and shocked of being caught. His eyes open widely, and the bowl hits the floor, kimchi falling down to the ground and making a mess.

«Fuck, I wanted to eat that!»

Life Goes On Project Masterlist

[tsarisfanfiction]

Teen Tracys

Muse is on a roll today, it seems (and I even managed to get some uni work done!).  From a conversation with @janetm74 that started over a discussion about punk!teen Virgil with a green mohawk and Eco-Warrior!teen Gordon and snowballed into, well, something a bit like this.

Random, has not been particularly polished, and I threw in a time skip rather than deal with the serious conversation.  Might write that later.

For ages, we’ve got Scott at 21, John’s 19, Virgil’s 17, Gordon’s 13 and Alan’s 9.  Three teenagers in the house; uh oh.

Scott loved his brothers. Really, he did.  But sometimes, they were just too much.  Big brother just didn’t hold the same weight as parent, no matter that he’d helped to raise all of them, and every so often his little brothers remembered that.

“Gordon, no.”

The thirteen-year-old, decked out in nothing but recycled greens, glared up at him with all the self-proclaimed righteousness a teenager could summon.  It was a lot.

“Do you know how much pollution is still being pumped into the oceans?” he demanded, not at all cowed by the fact he barely reached Scott’s chest.  “They finally stopped all the fossil fuel in the 2020s, and plastic was entirely phased out by 2030, and then the world gave itself a nice pat on the back as though that fixed everything!”

Scott had heard this tirade before.  Many, many, times before.

“Yes, Gordon, I know. Preservation of the oceans is important and that’s why this family – and Tracy Industries – does its bit to make sure nothing goes in there that shouldn’t, and is why you take part in charity events to continue to spread awareness.  I know.”  He didn’t have a problem with any of that, either.  No, what he had a problem with were the rallies.

Charity work?  Fine.  More than fine.

The rallies?  Not for an unaccompanied thirteen-year-old boy, and Scott knew they often involved illegally sabotaging places that still produced pollution.  No matter how well-meaning Gordon was, it was Scott’s duty as big brother and guardian not to let him get tangled up in that.

“Clearly you don’t know if you think that’s enough!” Gordon retorted, and Scott sighed.

“Gordon, I know more needs to be done, but it needs to be done legally, and not result in you getting thrown in a lockup, okay?  You’ve got that charity dinner with Lady Penelope next weekend, remember?”

“I can do both!” Gordon protested.  “Scott, I have to go!  It’s important for the planet!”

“Well it’s important to me that you don’t end up-”

Bright green in his periphery killed the rest of the sentence as he turned his head to see his normally sensible, reliable brother looking anything but.

“Virgil, you are not going out looking like that.”

“I can go out looking however I want, Scott.”  Seventeen years old and the teenage attitude Gordon was showing seemed to have infected his next oldest brother at last.  Virgil had been such a quiet, low-effort teenager – even more so than John, whose rebellion had been entirely digital and Scott was quite frankly afraid of what he might have done – until now.

Now, the punk phase had hit, and apparently the colour of the day was green.  Vibrant, radioactive touch-me-and-die green.  In a mohawk.

Scott tried to be the supportive big brother, he really did, but there were lines and the all-leather ensemble complete with mohawk and numerous piercings were pushing it.  Worst of all was the noise-maker he called a trike that he’d gone and bought last week despite being explicitly told not to. That had crossed the line.  There had been much shouting.  Virgil refused to return it, and spent more time in the garage tinkering with it than with his family now.

Gordon considered it an affront, and Scott wasn’t entirely certain it wasn’t going to be a target for the so-called rally if Gordon managed to join it.

“Virgil, please.”

“I want green hair!”

They’d caught Alan’s attention.  Great.

“No, Alan.  You are not dyeing your hair green.”

Realising both green-themed brothers – if for two very different reasons – were both trying to slip out while Alan played distraction, Scott backed up to the front door and blocked it with his body.

“Virgil did!”

“And if his hair dye ends up in your hair, his entire new ensemble is heading straight for the recycler,” Scott growled.  Three little brothers, all at once.  It was enough to give him a headache.  Gordon shifted, a shift that meant trouble, and he remembered the current household feud. “Gordon, if Virgil’s hair dye ends up in Alan’s hair, no more charity events until you’re eighteen.”

“But Scott!”

He didn’t even care which of the three said it.  It could have been all of them.  Why couldn’t they go through teenage rebellion from the sanctity of their bedrooms, like John did?

“I wouldn’t say green’s your colour anyway, Allie.”  As though summoned by Scott’s thoughts, the fourth little brother materialised.  Finally, some sanity- “how about we try black, or a dark blue, to match space?  Maybe Virgil can help make it a galaxy?”

“John!”

Betrayal.  Betrayal of the highest order, but Scott refused to get dramatic about it because he had three drama queens in the house already and that would only encourage them.  Even if the smirk John sent his way made him want to throw something.  Or scream.

Or both.

With four brothers ganging up on him – two because they’d hit the rebellion phase, one because his brothers were, and one just because he could – Scott knew he wasn’t going to win this with his sanity intact.

“Alan, no, you are not dyeing your hair any colour.  Gordon, you are not going to that rally.  Virgil, you are not going out like that.  John, if you’re not going to be helpful, scat.”

“But Scott!”

That was all four of them. In chorus.  If half of them weren’t feuding he’d think the whole thing was choreographed.  Looking at John, he still wasn’t convinced the ginger genius hadn’t managed to orchestrate it.  He was still smirking.

Scott needed to pull out the big guns.

“If you four won’t listen to me, maybe you’ll listen to Grandma.”

The woman was in the garden, taking a well-deserved nap away from five grandsons.  Scott didn’t want to disturb her, but he knew when he was beaten. Two brothers, he could handle. Three, tough but doable.  Four, when one was deliberately stirring the pot? Even Scott had limits.

Any hopes he might have had that the mere threat would be enough died when three defiant – and one amused, damn you, John – faces stared at him.

He pulled out his phone, gave them one more moment to change their minds of their own accord, before making the call.

“Scott?”

“Sorry to interrupt you, Grandma, but can you come back inside?”

“On my way.  What have the trouble-makers done this time?”

Scott gave her a brief rundown, interspersed with varying levels of protest from each brother as it reached their turn.  By the time he was done, the woman was inside the house, regarding all five of them.

Three faces were starting to quail.  Alan in particular looked on the verge of tears, but no teenage rebellion was stopping Virgil being a Grandma’s boy and even Gordon had a healthy respect for her tongue.  John continued to look far too smug, and Scott’s internal alarm bells were ringing.

Still, Grandma was here now. Grandma would sort his brothers out and Scott could get a blissful half hour – maybe even an hour, if he was lucky – without some sort of sibling drama.

“Well, I’m not seeing any problems here.”

What.

Grandma walked straight up to Virgil and started plucking at his jacket, deftly dodging the metallic spikes as she adjusted it on his shoulders.  “When I was your age, it was all pink.  Pink leather, pink hotpants.”  She winked in Scott’s direction and the urge to scream bubbled up in his chest.  “I dyed my hair to match.”

At least his brothers seemed to be as dumbstruck as him about that, even if Scott was watching his last bastion of support crumble before his eyes.

“Your Grandpa had the most amazing Harley,” she continued.  “Ooh, what a beauty.  Such a smooth ride.  He really knew how to treat a girl, your Grandpa.”

Nope.  Absolutely nope.  Scott needed brain bleach, and an escape from the madhouse, preferably before he screamed.

With a hoarse yell that was only a yell, and not a scream at all, he yanked the front door open, all but ran through it, and slammed it so hard a shingle slid from the roof.

He stared at it for a moment before surging into a run, past the garage and that damn trike, over the front gate, and headed straight for… who cared, as long as it was away. Right then, the house could collapse or burn to the ground for all he really cared.

Scott tried to be tolerant, he tried to be fair to all of his brothers, but sometimes it was just too much to handle.

***

“Scott?”

He’d ended up sitting in a tree after running all through the woodland until his legs burned.  Apparently, that wasn’t enough to stop his grandmother finding him when she wanted to.

“Are you ready to come home, dear?” she called up.  He sighed and let his head thud against the trunk.

“Am I going to be ganged up on by my brothers over stupid things if I do?” he asked.  “Because I think I’ve had enough of that.”

“Your brothers and I had a nice long chat, and we’ve put some new house rules in place,” she told him. “Gordon has agreed no more rallies and Alan no longer wants his hair dyed.”

“And Virgil and John?” he asked warily.

“Virgil has agreed not to provoke Gordon any more, but you two need to talk about policing each other’s clothes, young man.”  Scott winced. “As for John, he knows he went too far, but just like with Virgil, you are going to have to talk to each other like the reasonable young men you are.”  There was no reproach in her tone, but Scott felt scolded all the same.

He didn’t want to go home, but if Grandma was promising no more carnage…  Scott could never bring himself to leave his brothers for too long.  Reluctantly, he eased himself out of the tree, swinging from the last branch to the ground below.

“I know you don’t like what Virgil’s done to his hair,” Grandma said, looping her arm through his. “But remember it’s his hair, not yours.”

“It’s not that,” Scott admitted.  “He can do what he wants with it; it’s that trike.  He can’t wear a helmet with his hair all spiked up like that!”

“Then you should tell him that’s why you disapprove.”  Grandma was, as always, full of logic.  “None of you boys can read minds, you know.  You have to talk to each other.”

“I know,” Scott sighed. “Sorry, Grandma, I messed up.”

“You’re just worried about them.”  She squeezed his arm fondly.  “They’ll appreciate it when they’re older.”

“Will they?”

“They’re not the first teenage boys I’ve raised,” she reminded him.  “There’s nothing you and your brothers have done that your father and uncle Lee didn’t do already.”

“…Even the punk mohawk?”

“I still have the photos.”

[pugh-bug]

Scott Lang x reader

Chapter 2

I apologise this is a long chapter but domesticated Avengers makes me happy. If you’re reading this it’s meant to be a slow burnnn so enjoy the burning, the Tony x reader friendship and Thor being domesticated. If you like unsmashed lamps this chapter may be hard for you to read I’m sorry.

Warnings: none. unless you count archers breaking things.

You opened your weary eyes but everything was still black. Something warm was brushing against your face. You were warm... and in bed. ‘Please tell me I’m in my own bed.’ Without moving your splitting head you had no idea who could hear you until the unmistakable voice of Thor replied ‘It’s your own.’ He sounded amused. Somehow you felt well rested and more tired than you’d felt since Scott kept you up all night showing you card tricks, all at the same time. Although out of all the occupants in Stark Tower, Parker tired you out the most. The child. He was lucky you liked him.

Groaning you rolled over and face dived into your pillow clenching your eyes closed. Of course it was your bed. No one else’s smelt this good. Unless you’d gone nose blind as that weird advert went. ‘What day is it?’ You felt ridiculous asking but wasn’t this how you were supposed to behave? Youth? because Peter was in the minority being so morally well adjusted.

‘Sunday.’ That voice woke you up. ‘Y/N we can leave if you really want to sleep for another hundred years,’ you finally opened your eyes to see a much happier Scott smiling at you. Next to him was a smiling Thor glancing outside at the blue sky like a bird and a Peter looking apprehensive. You weren’t sure what as wrong with him he didn’t have the worst hangover of all time.

‘Come on get up,’ Scott spoke to you like you were five which just made you scowl... like a five year old. Looking mockingly scared Scott raised his hands up in ‘defeat’. ‘Okay don’t get up. I’ll just eat all the delicious pancakes Thor made myself.’

Thor snapped out of his bird watching trance to grunt before nodding ‘Yes. I’m afraid they are delicious.’ What did you do to deserve such generosity? And how could you resist pancakes? Oh but bed or pancakes?

‘These are amazing!’ You exclaimed (you had chosen pancakes). Thor grinned at your compliment as you ate like a rabid dog. Scott closed all the kitchen cupboards - he was such a dad sometimes - before leaning on the worktop facing you. ‘I’m glad you like them ,’ Thor remarked before finishing his breakfast and going to presumably get a shower leaving you with your favourite ant and third wheeling spider.

‘S- so I have an assignment due next month which is gonna take forever but Mr Stark-‘ as Peter launched himself into a long winded story about homework Scott caught your eye and smirked. You felt as if you were speaking in code. He watched you listen to your friends tangled tale with as much enthusiasm as you could muster despite your hangover. It seemed to amuse him.

‘And I was thinking who do I know that knows a lot about this sort of stuff? Y/N but I didn’t know how to ask y-‘

Scott gave you his best: can-you-believe-this-shit look and chuckled quietly keeping his eyes on yours. You smiled back but tried not to laugh - not wanting to upset Peter. Scott wasn’t as used to him as you were. He must have felt ancient beside someone as young and sprightly as the kid because even you felt middle aged in comparison. Luckily Peter had the attention span of a little child so before Scott could even try and think about asking him to leave he was off. Where? Chasing butterflies and doing something you did not need to know about.

You swallowed your words before they came out once Peter had left you and Scott alone. He was washing up and you weren’t even bothering to offer to do it instead. The hangover brain was strong and you didn’t even remember drinking never mind being pissed. Just as you watched him wash the final plate Scott turned to look at you. ‘You don’t even remember what you did last night do you?’

Oh fuck. Shit. What did you do? What could you have done? How could Scott tell you didn’t know? Was he turning into a psychic because of the quantum realm? It wouldn’t surprise you. Less and less shit did since moving to Stark Tower.

‘No. How can you tell? Have you absorbed Charles Xavier’s powers?’ Thank god the panic didn’t show in your voice for a change because otherwise all those oscar worthy performances you gave in the shower would have been a waste of time. Scott’s face pulled into a smug smile as he sat down at the breakfast table you hadn’t left.

‘Oh poor Y/N,’ he pulled a mocking sad face and used his creepy high pitched voice you hated. ‘Is someone confused?’ He was revelling in having the upper hand for a change.

‘Funny. You’re funny. Now tell me what I did or didn’t do last night before I throw this plate at you.’ You both knew you would never throw a plate at his cute face. It wouldn’t be worth the lecture of Steve on manners either. Steve. What could he possibly teach you about manners - they were fucking impeccable?

‘That’s not asking nicely.’

Your stomach contracted slightly as you could almost visualise the two pathways the conversation could lead to. His eyes were burning into yours with a new intensity you’d never seen in Scott before. It made your mouth dry and you cheeks burn up slightly. You felt like you’d been shoved into an oven without warning.

‘Fine,’ he refused to break eye contact with you and it was infuriating in a way. You willed him to stop as if he could in fact mind read. ‘Please just tell me what happened.’ Normally you only took this tone with Tony, you couldn’t help but wonder if in a weird way it meant you were getting closer to Scott. Atleast more comfortable. That would help you make less of a spectacle of yourself on a daily basis (not that that wasn’t fun but- ).

He told you that it wasn’t as bad as everyone was making out but you had decided to play beer pong with Thor and lost. Badly. You’d apparently cried when Clint said he didn’t want to play just dance and stormed off like a grumpy toddler who couldn’t get her own way.

‘Jeez,’

‘I know. You’re classy.’

‘I can be classy!’

Scott snorted at your outrage, downing the last of his orange juice while you sat in mock disbelief. ‘I’ll believe that when I see it.’ Okay noted. Scott didn’t think ripped fishnets were classy. Interesting. His ex wife was classy - ah let’s not open that door.

‘I didn’t throw up did I?’ You finally asked the burning question every hungover Gen Z member had to ask. He ran his hands through his dark hair but you refused to let your eyes linger for too long. ‘No you didn’t.’ This was followed by a cat like stretch he seemed to revel in performing. You heard the bones in his wrists crack and narrowed your eyes at him because you couldn’t think of what else to say. He didn’t seem interested in speaking either, he was blank. Fuck it. You knew when to let a conversation end.

‘I’m gonna shower.’ and as you left Scott alone in the kitchen to find the bathroom empty you smiled: if Scott had been 18 he would have said ‘without me?’ and thank god he wasn’t. You liked your older men immature in some ways (the fun ways) but pick me boys you could not abide. Scott was certainly not one.

After you’d sucked any joy out of showering dry by obsessing over how sad Scott may or may not be about his ex wife (or if he wanted advice) you dried yourself. You were 18 what advice could you have for the man? Middle aged men did seem to come to you for advice despite your own doubts and lack of experience. When Steve had been left out of a mission because of another fight with Bucky you practically became his mother consoling the drama queen. Tony called it ‘hilarious’ but you had a different word for the experience. That being said you wouldn’t mind listening to all of Scott’s problems on a loop on a fucking tape but bias is bias.

The walk to Tony’s obnoxiously large living room was short from the bathroom. The sound of the cold tile against your bare feet was all you could hear for a moment before the sound of-

‘Shit. Shit!’

Clint.

You entered the crime scene cold and confused, your wet hair was dripping cold down your back making you shiver. Stood in front of the tv flaming at the nostrils was a pissed off yet guilt ridden Clint Barton looking down at his handiwork. Lay on the floor was the lamp you’d bought Tony for his birthday. Smashed.

Nat was scowling at the archer lecturing him on how to carry things like a cross teacher. Wanda, Vision, Bucky and Steve were less concerned. You weren’t concerned at all it was a fucking £10 lamp. ‘Nat it’s fine it was an accident it’s just a lamp.’ You interrupted her scolding which gained you a sympathetic smile from Clint. His eyes said thank you. Nat did not seem convinced but swallowed her pride and calmed down anyway.

You scanned the room until your eyes met Scott, which you knew you needed to stop doing so often. There they were. Pointing back at you : a mixture of humour and the sadness you couldn’t stop noticing even if no one else did. You caved first and smiled at him. It was impossible not to.

‘Are we forgetting he’s a millionaire?’ Scott laughed at his own comment.

‘Excuse me, billionaire.’ Tony revelled in correcting people on how much money he had. How many cars he owned was a fun one too or how many times he’d redesigned everything in the house because he was ‘bored.’ Nat rolled her eyes in your direction which you quickly returned.

‘Really? Billionaire?’ Scott couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His voice was so high and his eyes were so wide you just grinned at his adorable face. Bless him. He knew nothing about Tony’s empire. What no one wanted was Scott’s lack of knowledge to end in a long speech from the billionaire about his life story. No one would stay for that.

‘I bought you churros. You said I had to pay for everyone’s.’ Scott sounded as if he could cry, so naturally everyone laughed. Even Vision. You weren’t sure if you’d ever seen him laugh before, it was so sweet. ‘Well I’m sure you’ll survive.’ Tony’s signature eyebrow raise was code for I’m-better-than-you.

Once everyone got up to get drinks and choose a film Scott snaked his arm onto your shoulder startling you. Everyone was on the other side of the room and no one was looking. There was a chance Tony was to see if you made a fool of yourself but you could live with that. ‘You jump so easily,’ he was not wrong. Everything startled you. ‘Did you know how much money Tony made?’

His hand left your shoulder, making you fight the urge to sigh in disappointment from the lack of touch. He sounded genuinely curious. Why he was fixating on Tony’s money you did not know. He didn’t steal anymore.

‘Everyone does. Why are you so interested? Are you planning a heist?’

Scott’s face changed. He was stood so close to you if either one of you moved there’d be no space to breathe. You wondered if he would ever fucking notice your ‘little crush’ on him or if it would continue like this forever. Would that be so bad? No. It would make more sense.

‘If I was you could be my accomplice.’ He sounded so confident. Of course it was a joke but still .. you? A criminal?

‘Hmm ... I think Nat would be a better choice.’ He smiled down at you as his hand found its way back to your shoulder. His touch, even in a non sexual way, made you feel like putty.

‘Sure she can come too. You’d be better company though, she’s a bit scary.’ You both laughed and then he was back to the sofa with the others. It took you a moment of standing around like an idiot taking Scott’s words in before you could join them.

Better company. Better company. Better company that a Russian assassin? Did that really mean much?

Taglist: @supraveng