#going to be a little more inactive the next few days but i will pop in every once in a bit teehee

[tetzoro]

good morning + happy wednesday my friendz !! i am super sleepy sleeps but determined to get thru the day with my trusty coffee by my side ଘ(๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و !! i hope you all have a magnificent day 🤍💫

[buckyshoneybunny]

Birthday Girl

Bucky Barnes + Curvy!Reader 

Summary- It's your birthday and Bucky wants to make it special 

W.C.- 1122 

Warnings- reader has adhd, fluff, metions to smut, 18+ please no minors, cursing. 

A/N- Today is my birthday!!! Sorry I have been inactive; I’ve been busy and sick and just no motivation. I do have a fall fic coming!! I realized a couple of days ago I could have done kinktober but oh well. I have so many ideas and wips but not enough time and motivation. Anyway I do hope you like it and be on the lookout, I’ll try to get more stories out. Until next time my loves! (Thank you for the love!!!)  

Masterlist 

Bucky’s heart fluttered as he watched you sleep, your hair glowing in the early morning sunlight streaming in, though knotted. He brushed some hair behind your ear, peppering your face with kisses and causing you to stir. 

Eyes still closed, you smiled and snuggled further into Bucky’s side, causing him to chuckle softly. 

“Happy birthday, doll,” he whispered into your hair. 

You hum and bury your face in his neck. “Thank you,” you mumble.  

“You’re welcome.”  He rubbed his flesh hand down your thigh, the metal one holding you close. You both laid there in the comfort of your shared bed, basking in the warmth for a little while longer.  

You savored the calm, relaxing mornings with Bucky whenever you could, holding on tightly and never wanting to let go. Being an Avenger, Bucky wasn’t always able to spend these few extra minutes with you in bed. So, when he did get a chance like this, he snatched it up and milked it for all its worth.  

He relished in the feeling of your fingers drawing mindless patterns on his bare chest, your warm breath against his neck, hearing your heartbeat and knowing you weren’t just a figment of his imagination. He felt forever grateful for you, and he was going to make sure you had a great birthday.  

A knock on the front door of your shared apartment popped the bubble of solitude you had going. 

“Who’s that?” You grumble into his neck, voice slightly muffled. 

“That would be breakfast,” he chuckles. 

“When the hell did you order breakfast?” 

“Before you woke up.” You hum and start to get up before he halts your movements. 

“Oh no you don’t,” he huffs with a smile. “I will get that and bring it to you. You keep your gorgeous ass in this bed.” He jumps out of bed before you can protest, but not before getting his legs tangled in the sheets and stumbling, causing you to giggle. He darts out the room, not bothering to put pants on, answering the door in his boxers.  

You quickly get up to pee and take your meds before he gets back. Just as you get settled back in bed, Bucky comes in with a try. On it was a neatly arranged breakfast from your favorite breakfast place down the road. You don’t eat there often, not wanting to spend a fortune for just two people, no matter how good said food was.  

You gasp softly and sit up so he can place the tray over your lap.  

“Oh Bucky,” you sigh. “Thank you.” 

“Anything for my birthday girl,” he sat down next to you on the bed and kissed your forehead. “Dig in, baby.”  

You start shoveling food in your mouth, moaning at the taste. You of course share your special breakfast after learning he hadn’t ordered anything for himself. He denied, of course. But after a few empty threats he agreed and started to eat.  

You were full by the time your ADHD meds kicked in. Bucky took the tray away and you curled back up, ready to go back asleep. 

“Oh no ma’am you don’t,” he said, pulling the blankets off you. “You need to get ready. Nat and Wanda will be here at nine, which is-” he checks the clock. “-In 40 minutes.” 

You huff and pout. “Can’t we just stay in bed?” You bite your lip and run your hands down his chest, the muscles tensing the lower you go. He stops your movements right as your fingers reach the waistband of his boxers.  

“As much fun as that sounds, you have a big day today, so up you go.” He effortlessly lifts you out of the bed. 

You laugh and start to get ready. You dress in the blue jeans that hug your hips and thighs just right and make Bucky’s knees weak. You put a white fluffy sweater and thick heeled black boots on. While you brush your teeth Bucky braids your hair, his tongue peeking out between his teeth as he focuses.  

By the time you were ready the girls were out there waiting. With a kiss to your lips and his card in your hands because, it’s your birthday and I wanna treat you. You were off. You went shopping, got your hair and nails done, the works.  

You had an amazing day, the most fun in too long. By the time you were done you were exhausted, wanting nothing more than to take a hot bubble bath with Bucky and have a little fun in bed. But of course, he had other plans.  

As you, Natasha, and Wanda walked into yours and Bucky’s shared apartment, shopping bags in hand. It was abnormally dark, confused you turned on the lights and screamed, Natasha recording the whole thing. 

“SURPRISE!!” Everyone yelled and laughed at your reaction. All the Avengers were there, even Thor. Clint, his wife and kids, Sam and Steve, Tony and Pepper, even T’Challa and Shuri were there, everyone was there. 

But what caught your eye was the big, grinning goofball standing in the middle of it all holding a ‘happy birthday’ sign.  

“Did you do this?” You laugh. He nods and you hug him. He wraps his arm around you, the other holding the sign. “Thank you” 

“You’re welcome, doll,” he smiles, kissing your forehead. 

“Alright,” Tony claps his hands together. “Let's get this party started!” He pulls out two bottles of Whiskey.  

“Tony no-” 

“Tony yes!” He interrupts Steve. 

After a few glasses of Whiskey, many chimichangas, courtesy of Deadpool. A piece of cake, and many, many expensive and one-of-a-kind gifts later. You stood in the corner watching all of your friends family dance and party. You felt very grateful to be a part of this chaotic bunch of people.  

Bucky comes up next to you, wrapping his metal arm around your waist, tipsy from the Asgardian mead Thor and Loki had brought.  

“Hey doll,” he slurs. “Did you have a good birthday?”  

You nod. “I did, yes,” I smile. “Thank you, baby.”  

“The night’s not over yet,” he wiggles his eyebrows, a knowing smirk on his face.  

“James!” You scold playfully. “We have guests over!”  

“They won’t notice, come on.” He was already leading you to the bedroom. “Just 30 minutes.” 

“Fine,” you sigh dramatically, not bothering to hide your smile. “But only 30 minutes.”  

“Scouts honor,” he grins.  

45 minutes later... 

“Where is Bucky and Y/N?” Steve asks.  

“Fucking like the rabbits they are,” Tony slurs, absolutely hammered. Steve chokes on his drink, turning red.  

People say that birthdays and holidays get less fun as you get older, but with Bucky, you couldn’t wait to see what he was gonna do next. 

[merrock]

As promised, there are a few pre-holiday things that I wanted to discuss with you guys this week, just so you know what is expected activity-wise through the end of the year, and some little things about keeping things festive, fresh and fun around here.

As this post might be a little bit lengthy, I am going to pop it under a cut, but please take a few minutes to read through things! xx

Firstly, although I don't have the exact dates in mind, this is a warning that we will have two more activity checks before the end of the year. One will be at the end of November / beginning of December, and one will be at the mid-month point before the holidays. The next check will be a full sweep: meaning we will look for inactive accounts, those not meeting three replies, and those who are not replying to three writers per character, nor replying to new open starters.

The mid-December check will likely just be checking for straight-up activity (inactive for two weeks: removal, inactive for one week: warning). We will not be doing a check at the end of December, but will instead be doing an interest check after the new year to allow you to make changes you need, drop characters you don't want, etc. This means that we will be toughening up and clean slating activity in the middle of January, once everyone is where they need to be. Those first couple of weeks of January should be used to do what you need to do to be meeting our rules and get back on track.

Please remember that we do not offer semi-hiatuses! It's the holidays, it's okay if you're not active every day; as long as you are able to do three replies within a two week period at any point, you are not going to lose your role, even if you might get a reminder/warning on check. We promise. If you need a hiatus, we do grant those for up to two weeks. If you speak to us personally and privately (meaning not a public OOC post, talk tags, etc.) about activity issues, we will be lenient and understanding as long as you are trying. That's all that we ask of anyone during busy times, is just that a little effort is made to be here, follow the rules, and have fun!

Not to be a meanie, but if you decide that this group is not for you, whether it just not be the perfect fit, or you simply do not have the time, please ask us for an unfollow. We absolutely never hold it against anyone! But this allows us to remain lenient while opening spots for new writers. You are always welcome to return!

As for my role as admin: I plan on maintaining rolling, daily acceptances during the holidays, and am hoping to be on daily to help with what you need. Please note that I will be having a hard "mod logs out" time at night of 10:00PM EST, with very few exceptions. And remember, just because I am online doing replies does not mean I am in mod mode -- I want to write and enjoy the holiday season with you guys, too! Please send things you need changed/updated to the ask box here on main, versus a message. Extend the same understanding and patience towards me when it comes to the holiday season and availability, is all that I ask!

Alright, past that! Let's talk a little bit about holidays in Merrock, in terms of our favorite Merrockites! As you may have noticed, we have lots of holiday fun coming up -- I recommend bookmarking our holiday guide post to keep track of everything and make it easy to plot with others around town! There should be something for everyone to do -- even those who don't celebrate specific holidays -- but we are also open to editing the post for other business owners or people who would like to offer things around town! Or even if you have ideas / suggestions. Just let us know.

We've had people ask in the past about holiday gift giving, and yes, we do allow that here! But we ask you to be considerate of dash spam. For example, if you want to give gifts to 10 friends, tag them all in one post, versus rapid fire posting 10 posts at once on dash. (It's okay to separate out a husband, a best friend, a sibling, etc.) I also want to make it clear: gifts are not mandatory. You're also welcome to post a tray of cookies and tag friends, or give out little ornaments, or just not do anything at all. We also don't want people to put so much priority into gifts that they're not active. We promise that no one will be offended if you don't have huge, elaborate gifts, or choose to focus on activity.

December and January are pretty 'in the books' for me as an admin; all of the events are drafted, announcements have been posted, birthdays and mini events are queued, so I will be taking care of site maintenance and mostly enjoying the holidays with you guys and doing my best to keep things active. I've put a lot of work into the holiday season, so please: take advantage! Post lots of open starters, reach out to those you don't normally plot with, spread love and warmth during this holiday season. xx

[j-graysonlibrary]

Heartbeats; Paradise Chapter 1

Title: Heartbeats; Paradise

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 112K

Genres: Psychological thriller, drama, sci-fi, LGBT+

Available on: Kobo and my website

Synopsis: Melvin Hardy and Kade Axel appear to be a match made in heaven. After a meet-cute in the rain, the two quickly find themselves in a burgeoning, wholesome relationship.

Yet, things feel…off. It isn’t the ghosts of their pasts that resurface to test the strength of their partnership—no—it’s something nebulous. Something indescribable. Melvin can’t put his finger on it but, the more time he spends with Kade, the more he starts to wonder what’s real and what’s pure fiction.  

Full chapter 1 under the cut:

Chapter One:

The sun sets.

I adjust the rod of my umbrella, cursing under my breath at the stiffness of the thing due to a long period of inactivity. It hardly ever rains here but I always carry the umbrella with me. Just in case.

Many of my colleagues rush past me, braving the drizzle before the storm really hits. They can have fun getting wet but I’m wearing one of my more expensive jackets. Probably not the best idea, in retrospect, to wear my designer suit on an overcast Thursday but I had needed some sort of pick-me-up this morning. And that just so happened to be dressing nicer to motivate myself to get to work.

My umbrella finally releases and the fabric pops open before me. I raise it above my head and step out from beneath the overhang.

With my apartment a few blocks away, I have time to think about what I’ll make for dinner as I walk. I wouldn’t say I’m a good cook but I have some staples under my belt—a necessity born from living on one’s own. A large portion of my meals may come premade but I still add a pinch of seasoning or a twist here and there. There are definitely some microwave dinners in my freezer which, at the rate this day is going, will probably be my answer.

After that, I think I’ll pour myself a glass of wine and relax some. It’s not the end of the week yet but it is close so letting loose, or, as loose as I allow myself to get, isn’t a bad idea. I’ll avoid the news stations and search for something more relaxing on the TV and, if not relaxing then at least mind numbing.

I could check my personal e-mail as well, I consider as the clouds darken and the rain pours down in sheets. The thumping against my umbrella lets me know they are big droplets and I’m even gladder that I always carry the thing with me. My mind quickly bounces back to my after-work agenda and I think of the possibility that my mother might have sent me something. It was my twenty-sixth birthday not too long ago and I have not checked my e-mail for a time.

I sigh instinctively when the woman comes to mind. She would probably have sent something vague and/or generic if she sent anything at all. With, perhaps, a slight passive-aggressive note on the state of my love life.

There is a far off rumble of thunder as the rain rages even harder and I’m forced to slow down next to a bus stop. My glasses are fogging and I have to either take them off or wipe them clean. I attempt to hold my umbrella in the crook of my elbow while I fish out my glasses case from my pocket.

I whip out the small cloth and run it quickly over the glass—it isn’t perfect but at least I can see in front of me again. I’ll clean them more thoroughly once I get home.

I check the road, finding little traffic between me and the pavement across the street where my path continues. There aren’t a lot of cars in town or, at least, there aren’t a lot of reasons to drive them. I, myself, have a car but it’s more out of want than need. My commute to work can easily be done on foot and more places in town can be reached by a bus or on bike.

Though I am sure the poor soul across the street wishes they hadn’t taken their bike out today. They have no coverage and the rain beats down on them without mercy.

As I rush over the crosswalk I notice something even more unfortunate. Their front wheel is loose and there is no way the bike is useable anymore unless the rider is less than fifty pounds. And, while they may seem petite, I doubt they’re that light.

I step onto the sidewalk and my presence alerts them. Their head rises, facing the rain, to look up at me and the world at large freezes.

Even if we aren’t the only two people on the sidewalk, it certainly does feel that way.

It’s hard to tell what gender they are but I do know one thing for certain—they are beautiful. Their hair, wet and heavy, falls past their shoulders and their eyes shine with the light of the nearby streetlamp. A pair of gorgeous blue-green irises, like the Mediterranean Sea, stares into me and I am struck by a feeling foreign to me.

“I could fix that,” I say without meaning to. While it might be true that I can fix their bike, I usually wouldn’t approach a stranger in such a way. Normally, I would think on how unlucky they were and continue my trip home but I am mesmerized by their face and I can’t seem to control myself any longer.

“You can?” They ask with a lower, almost boyish voice. Their eyes, somehow, get bigger at the prospect and their lips curl into a smile. Their pink, full lips that compliment the shape of their face as if they were created with the intent to ensnare me…

I nod eagerly. “I have a model similar to that so I have some spare parts.” I then realize what helping them entails and I worry they will be frightened by the idea. “I…it’s all at my apartment though. Are you okay with that?”

“Sure!” That brightness doesn’t fade and they look even more excited about the situation.

I lean my umbrella over their head and shield them from any more rain though they are already quite soaked. I keep my eyes on their face rather than the white shirt that clings to their body.

“Oh…thank you,” they remark cutely and inch closer. “I don’t want to get your nice coat wet though…”

“It’s alright,” I let them know, “I can get it dry cleaned over the weekend if needed.”

I keep the umbrella over us though my right arm is left out to get wet as well as some of my right side in general. My new companion drags their bike along and the rain becomes our soundtrack as we walk to my apartment, alone on the sidewalk. Even the volume of cars slows to nearly none as we get closer.

“So…” my company speaks up as if to fill the silence but maybe they are uncomfortable about long pauses. “Can I ask your name? I don’t want to keep having to refer to you as ‘handsome stranger’ in my head.”

We share a chuckle but I do feel my cheeks grow warm. This beautiful person finds me attractive as well? The odds maybe aren’t that bad since many people have commented on my looks before but still…it is a wonderful feeling.

“I’m Melvin Hardy.” I glance away, unbelievably shy at the exchange but I hope to hide it well. My heart is beating as if to leave my chest and my head is spinning just from this little bit of interaction. Just as I am ready to hear who it is I’ve become enamored with, I remember. While I feel it is obvious with one look that I am a man, I still say out of politeness, “Oh, and my pronouns are he/him.”

“Mine too!” he replies with a bounce in his step. “My name’s Kade. Kade Axel.”

So perfection has a name and it’s Kade Axel, I think. Somehow, I feel I already knew it but I’m happy to be told.

We come upon my apartment complex and I quickly lead Kade to the stairs where I can finally remove the umbrella. I shake it off and fold it back into it’s compact form while, at my side, Kade props his bike against the bricks under the stairs.

“My apartment is upstairs,” I tell him, “I hope I have a spare part…if not, you can just borrow my bike.” I add the last part and point to the bike nearby.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t.” Kade shakes his head and raises his hands in protest.

“Only if I can’t fix yours.” I offer a smile. Plus, I add mentally, if he borrows something of mine, he’ll have to come back to see me.

“Well…okay.” He bites his lip, pulling both the skin and my attention.

I have to snap myself out of it and lead the way up. I’m relieved, momentarily, that I cleaned not too long ago. Though, to be honest (and a little proud) my place never gets too dirty anyway.

I allow Kade inside first and I shut the door after us, turning only the deadbolt lock. My part of town isn’t dangerous though I can’t say any part of town really is. People truly keep to themselves here.

“I have a hair dryer if you need it,” I say when I notice Kade fussing with his wet hair. He looks genuinely upset to have tracked so much water into my home. And, if it were anyone else, I might be irritated but it also isn’t his fault he’s soaked. “…And dry clothes too…though they might be a bit big.”

A pink blush rises to his pale cheeks and my heart swells at the sight. Kade brings his hands together in front of his chest and asks, “Are you sure that’s okay? I feel like I—”

I don’t let him finish. “It’s alright. Really.”

He still looks a bit bashful but he agrees to take some of my old sweats and dry out his hair. Before he shuts himself away in the hall bathroom, I ask,

“Do you have any food allergies? I’ll make dinner while you’re in here.”

“Y-you really don’t have to.” He flushes even more and part of me wants to continuously offer him things to see just how flustered he can get.

But, I restrain myself. “Well, if you’re getting dry then you don’t need to go out in the rain until it’s slowed down at least. And, if that takes a while, you shouldn’t go hungry. I was going to make myself dinner anyway…what’s an extra serving?”

His stunning eyes blink a few times and his brow furrows together, forming only one, small crease between them. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Well that’s a loaded question. I can’t even be sure myself and saying ‘you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen’ already sounds creepy in my head—I can’t even imagine how it’ll sound coming out of my mouth. But if I say that he was in need and I help those in need I’ll be lying.

I open and close my mouth a few times before still, sort of, lying, “I’m not sure.”

Kade clearly isn’t expecting that as his eyes bulge and he steps back. “You…you don’t know?”

“It was an impulse,” that is a little more truthful at least, “Once I saw you there, I couldn’t leave you.”

This response brings his blush back and he avoids my eyes. Such a shame as I’ve found my new hobby in staring into his lovely irises.

“Well…t-thanks. I don’t have any food allergies, by the way. I’ll eat whatever you make.”

I leave him to head to the kitchen, worrying that I still, maybe, laid things on a bit thick. I adjust my glasses and then take them off entirely. My vision is a little blurry without them but I know my kitchen and pantry well enough to navigate it partly blind.

I settle on a simple rice dish and, while everything is cooking, I take the time to properly clean my glasses. In a way, I’m almost scared to see Kade without the streaks and water droplets in the way. How could he possibly be more gorgeous? And will I be able to handle it?

As I worry about possibly making a fool of myself even more than I already have, I check my hall closet to see if I have the parts Kade needs for his bike. I do, thankfully, but that also takes away his reason for coming back. Though, if I let him leave with my old clothes then that could be something?

I grumble to myself at how desperate I am. If Kade doesn’t want to see me again, it’s within his rights to. Just because I’m completely taken with him doesn’t mean he’s obligated to hang around. I’d be no better than a love struck teenager if I think otherwise.

Dinner is ready so I turn my focus to setting the table and making the meal look as presentable as possible. I’m slightly frustrated at myself for not asking what Kade wants to drink but I hope he’ll be alright with a glass of water.

I sit at the small table that straddles both the kitchen and the living room and I wait for a few more minutes. Maybe his hair takes some time to dry? It is quite long after all. I think on it and begin to feel anxious. There is no direction or cue so I simply wait a bit longer.

Finally, Kade emerges from the hall. He’s all but lost in my sweats but that makes him, painfully, even more adorable. His hair is shorter and blonder now that it’s dried, though it still brushes against his shoulders and looks so soft to the touch. He pulls the sleeves up on the shirt and his pace picks up when he sees the table. “Sorry I took a while—I had to call my sister.”

“Oh…no problem.” I swallow the nerves down and glance from him to the food as my mind whirls with questions and prompts. “…Do you live with your sister?” I settle on.

“I do,” he responds quickly and gets comfortable in his chair. “She’s letting me stay with her while I finish college and I help out at her café as payment.”

Finish college…he’s at least twenty-two in that case. Unless he graduated high school early, of course. He could also be older if he took a gap year or simply waited to go. It is hard to tell his age by his face as it’s so smooth and young looking—unlike me who has always looked like a grown man since middle school.

“That’s sweet of her,” I respond and urge him to eat with a simple hand gesture. After he takes a bite, I risk sounding like a creep to ask, “What café?”

Kade smiles and swallows before answering, “It’s actually the one right down the block from where we met today. Back the direction you came from.”

“Caramel café?” I question with doubt but Kade nods in confirmation. “I go there on my breaks all the time…I’ve never seen you.” If I had, I’d definitely remember.

But he laughs, covering his mouth and hiding his face. “I…it’s a new thing. I just started this past week.”

“Oh…I haven’t been this week.” I feel slightly embarrassed by my mini-outburst. I clear my throat and change topics, “So, what are you in school for?”

“Psychology,” Kade says as he drops his hand. He seems comfortable talking about this so I think it’s probably something he’s passionate about. After he takes another bite of dinner, he continues, “I want to be a grief counselor.”

“Wow.” I’m a bit taken aback. I had not expected something like that. “That’s a tough job.”

“But necessary,” he responds and, as swiftly as I had, he shifts the question onto me, “So what do you do, Melvin?”

“Nine to five office work. I got my degree in business so I went straight into the grind.” It’s boring to do and even more so to talk about.

Lucky for us, mother nature also wishes to move on from the topic. A loud crash of thunder shakes the building and a flash of lightning illuminates the room.

Kade jumps. “I guess I’m not heading out anytime soon…”

I shake my head. “You can crash on my couch if you want. I don’t mind.”

He smiles and pokes at the remainder of his food with his fork. “…You’re so nice. I’m almost waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

I raise one of my eyebrows. Does he think I’m hiding some horrible secret? Or that I’m really out to get him? I can’t exactly blame him with how odd the circumstances are and I truly do have no reason to be going out of my way to help.

“I’m not really a serial killer, I promise,” I say with a smirk, breaking some of the tension.

Kade laughs and shakes his head. “Well, I wasn’t thinking that…exactly. There just…there must be a downside to you. No way you can be so perfect. Handsome, nice, good cook, considerate, good and stable job…”

I’m thrown off guard. He had called me handsome before but I did not expecting to hear it again. “You like dinner then?” I decide to focus on that instead.

He chuckles again. “Yeah. It’s really good.”

Thunder crashes once more and I nearly jump myself this time. I use the shot of adrenaline to stand and collect our now empty plates. “Thank you,” I respond, “after I wash the dishes, I’ll grab you some blankets for the couch.”

I dip into the kitchen and quickly wash up, not wanting to leave Kade by himself for too long. My heart beats faster at the mere thought of him and I’m almost scared of how I’ll feel when he’s gone. This new cacophony of emotions can’t simply disappear, can it?

“Um…Melvin?”

His sweet voice spins me around and I take him all in. He truly is beautiful and more than a little cute bundled up in my clothes and nervously scratching at the side of his face.

“Yes?” I ask with a hitch in my voice.

He doesn’t notice or he doesn’t say anything about it at least. Instead, he starts to smile and he meets my eyes. “Thank you.”

It’s so honest and so warm that it fills my chest with a fuzzy, comforting sensation.

I don’t want him to leave.

[deathbyoctopi]

Hihihi quite honestly, I can't fault you for forgetting about Song Lan when almost all of my Yi City content banks on the idea that he will never pop up and they can keep living happily, yes, hmm hmm XD Out of sight and out of mind, you know.

There are so many reasons Song Lan could be missing anyways, from him having hardwired instructions to patrol at certain hours unless ordered to stay, to Xue Yang keeping him under a blanket when he is inactive because why not add insult to injury, to him suddenly being free due to Xue Yang's mind reset and having stepped out of the house to get a shovel and bury him...

Anyways, forgotten Song Lan or not, I remember Nepenthe as an incredibly gripping and unfairly saddening fic, banking on my fear of memory loss to boot, so forgetting the fierce corpse is the least of my concerns when Xue Yang just walks away and Xingchen wakes up omfg you MADE IT and you WON'T EVEN KNOWWWW TT-TT

As for One Satisfied Customer, I have no regrets whatsoever that the whole debacle ended up with the madam almost booting them and the price remains unspoken of until the end -which it was solved too anyways, hahaha! No complaints there.

I suppose the madam measured Xiao Xingchen's wealth by sight alone, and while he might be dressed humbly, I should bet Shuanghua alone could be worth a couple omegas at least... And considering Xiao Xingchen got the feral one, I'm inclined to believe Xue Yang comes with a hefty discount XD

That fic was so entertaining, very well crafted in terms of worldbuilding, setting the stage very clearly from a slice of Xiao Xingchen's life -that turns out to be life-changing for him!! I always love how good chemistry they have, particularly in your fics, no matter if canon, canon-adjacent or completely bonkers au, xuexiao always manage to find each other and click so well!

(YES!! EVEN IN PRICELESS!!! XD)

Your penguins look healthy and lovely. Picture me like a happy ornithologist. ^-^

As for my nagging thoughts... I'm in the bad habit of correcting and expanding (minimally) my fics days, weeks and even months after posting them. Whatever regrets I might have, I try to correct them with minimal changes and hope no one noticed my blunder.

A good example of that was A Comedy of Yi City Errors, where there was quite an incoherence with the timing because according to one chapter Song Lan arrives the same day as the other three, but in the next Xiao Xingchen&Co have already spent one night there...

But that was easy enough to fix, hehehe. And that fic in particular was already a clusterfuck of well-timed coincidences, so I doubt anyone paid attention to that XD

No, the things that bother me in a fic are the tonal inconsistences, which tend to happen to me if I write long fics (which I don't generally like) because depending on the day the characters will be more spiked up than others...

That is something I cannot fix afterwards with a couple extra lines, it's part of the fic structure, so those I don't usually re-read with the hopes of forgetting enough about them to look at them with really fresh eyes without being bombarded by all the weird shit going on there >-<

Fortunately, I don't think I have any xuexiao fics with this problem because I treat those with the utmost love and reverence ^-^ but I was very, very upset with the way Secrets Light as a Feather (a jadecest fic) shaped up, to the point I considered abandoning it despite being part of an event... U_U

Thank you for taking part in this little ask game with me!! Sorry about the late answer, and I'm definitely looking forward to seeing more penguins of yours and introducing you to a few of my own >w<

[puppyexpressions]

How Soon Can a Puppy Become a Jogging Partner?

Q. I've been running with my dogs for years, but both of my previous running mates were pets I adopted as adults. This time, I fell in love with a puppy. How soon can I start running with her? I miss having a dog run with me.

A. You need to wait a while before putting the miles on that pup, or risk permanent damage to her developing body. Assuming she's in good overall health (your vet can help determine that), eight months of age is about the earliest you should start letting her run with you, and even then, you should figure on only a mile or two, at a relatively slow pace, at first. Keep in mind that the bones and joints of large or giant breed puppies mature more slowly than those of smaller dogs, so eight months is probably too early for them. Ask your veterinarian about the best time to get started if you have a large or giant breed puppy.

Even if running has to wait a bit, that doesn't mean you shouldn't be doing anything with your puppy now. Use the next few months to make sure your pet is well socialized. Introduce her to any situation that's likely to pop up when you're running; make sure she's comfortable around people of all ages, bicycles, strollers, cars and noisy motorcycles. Free exercise on soft surfaces — such as play with another dog on grass — is also great for youngsters. Get your pup into a training class now so she'll learn how to walk — and later run — on lead without dislocating your shoulder or pulling you off-stride.

Before starting any exercise program, talk to your veterinarian to get a more accurate assessment of your pet's development and suitability as a running companion. When you get the go-ahead to start training together, take your time building up your pet's mileage and speed. And keep your dog lean — even a little extra weight is harder on the joints. 

Honestly, I can't tell you how happy I am to get a question like yours. Every day we see so many overweight or obese animals with a long list of associated health problems. Even for those pets who are not overweight, inactivity can be linked to behavior problems. It's so great to see people who are making sure both they and their pets stay on-the-go and healthy!

[cheeseanonioncrisps]

Honestly, controversial opinion, but Crowley arguably does move pretty fast, if you look at it from a celestial perspective.

“But they were friends for 6000 years!” No they weren't.

I mean, headcanons can vary, but if we're going purely by the text then they don't appear to have met up at all in the 1000 years between Eden and Noah's Ark (Crowley has to ask about the aftermath of the Flaming Sword Incident) and it's not clear how many times they encountered each other in the 3000 years between that and the crucifixion.

They don't go out for lunch together (that we see) until eight years after that. Once again, I've seen lots of excellent headcanons and fics about how they might have spent that intervening time together, but from a strictly canon perspective, Crowley and Aziraphale being basically just friendly colleagues for the first 4000 years of their relationship is a totally valid interpretation.

And then, of course, Crowley probably has to leave (he's “just popped in for a quick temptation”, remember) and the next time we see them is 500 years later. Which is a super long time for a human— and I'm not going to argue that they didn't meet up at all in the intervening time, since at this point I don't think it's implied one way or another— but for an angel or a demon?

They've both been on Earth for well over 4000 years by this point. How long is 500 years relative to them? Fifty years? Fifteen? Five?

Anyway, it's at this point— 500 years after what was quite possibly their first lunch together— that Crowley turns to Aziraphale and is like “hey? Want to commit literal treason?”

And make no mistake, that is what he is asking. These two are enemy agents, and Crowley is asking to exchange information about the secret plans of their respective sides. This would require Aziraphale to

a) trust Crowley not to take advantage of this information for the benefit of Evil

b) consciously choose not to take advantage himself of the information Crowley gives him, for the benefit of Good

c) accept (even just a little bit) the idea that the activities he's just spend the past >4000 years on don't make any difference at all in the grand scheme of things, and Heaven doesn't really give a shit about him.

… And he does it. He rejects the idea initially, but just over a thousand years later we see them together at the Globe, and the Arrangement is not only established, but clearly has been so for some time.

Long enough for Crowley to decide it's time to bend the rules. Not only are they arranging secret meetings and tactically keeping out of each other's way, but they've already done the 'taking care of each other's blessings and temptations' trick “dozens of times”. Aziraphale is still nervous and shocked when Crowley suggests it, so he's probably used to only doing it as a last resort in emergencies, but he knows exactly what Crowley is suggesting the moment he comments on what a shame it is that they both have to go to Edinburgh. This is not a new thing.

Aziraphale at this point still believes that angels and demons are fundamentally different. For all he knew, the first time he performed a temptation he would fall instantly and the first time Crowley performed a blessing he would… explode, or something. But still, at some point during the last thousand years, Crowley persuaded him to do it.

And then, just over 200 years after that (and how long even is that? It's ~4% of the time they've spent on Earth so far) Crowley asks for holy water, Aziraphale thinks he's going to kill himself, freaks out about how much he cares and brings out the Heaven Party Line to cover up his real feelings. Crowley takes it as a personal insult and they fall out for a century— according to the script, Aziraphale is convinced that they're not friends anymore.

100 years after that, and Crowley's back again, and he's just saved Aziraphale from discorporation (… by threatening him with worse discorporation, but still) and thought to rescue his books. Aziraphale has his big moment of 'this demon is the only being who truly cares about me, and I truly care about him' and then literally like 20 years later (which would be what on the celestial timescale? Two weeks?) Crowley's after the holy water again, and Aziraphale has to choose between letting his friend almost certainly die through inaction, or making him slightly less likely to die right away but ensuring that if/when he does die later down the line, it will be All. Aziraphale's. Fault.

He chooses option 2 and in the process has to admit— maybe not out loud, but definitely through implication— that the initial refusal to hand it over was never about Heaven, because Aziraphale couldn't give a toss about what Heaven thinks compared to what will ensure the safety of one incredibly irritating demon. Probably crossing his fingers that he's not going to Fall the whole way through, because that is a bloody extreme thing to admit given the circumstances.

And Crowley's response? “Cool, so we're now going to go off together and start hanging out like normal people who don't have the threat of each other's horrific destruction hanging over their heads every minute of the day? We're going to drive off in my car and just be openly BFFs forever now?” No Crowley.

In the past just under 2000 years you've gone from work aquaintances (which was already illegal! Literally every conversation you two have ever had could have resulted in your deaths!), to treason buddies, to Aziraphale fully admitting to himself that his loyalty to you is more than his loyalty to Heaven. That his loyalty to Heaven does not in fact play into it when it comes to your safety. Even though he's an angel, and that sort of thinking is exactly the kind of thing you Fall for.

And like less than thirty seconds after you've both come to that realisation, you're turning round and asking him to give up all plausible deniability and attempts at secrecy and just start openly hanging out together where Heaven and Hell could just stumble upon you at any time.

Like yeah he turns you down, what with finding out you're about to risk killing yourself, and handing you a suicide pill, and finally admitting his ultimate betrayal of Heaven in his heart, this has been a rough past few hours for Aziraphale. He's probably not ready to be making those kinds of decisions.

But he says he's willing to give it a try. Not yet— give him a minute Crowley— but he's willingly acknowledging that there is a Next Step to this relationship and he wants to get there.

And then the next time we see the two of them, in 30-40 years time, Aziraphale has made the step. They're going to the Ritz together and getting wasted in the shop afterwards. They seem to have done this before. Crowley now wants to form an allegiance and deliberately work to circumvent the Great Plan that Aziraphale believes was set out 6000 years ago by God Herself, and it literally takes an afternoon for Crowley to talk him into it.

Like, I see a lot of posts about the holy water scene where people are blaming Aziraphale or joking about how Crowley couldn't possibly go any slower than he is already. And yeah, from a human perspective, they're barely moving. But from the perspective of millennia old beings whose existence predates the Earth itself? And for whom literally every step in their relationship was utterly revolutionary and completely unprecedented?

To Aziraphale, it probably felt a lot faster.

[perlukafarinn]

(ao3)

The day starts out pretty unremarkable. Dean wakes up at the crack of dawn to Cas slipping out of bed for his morning jog. He pulls him down for a good-morning kiss that turns into a make-out session that turns into them trading lazy handjobs and then falling asleep in each other’s arms again. 

Their actual start to the day is around ten AM, when Cas finally gets up for his jog and Dean gets up for his cereal and a scroll through the morning news. He’s on the look for hunts, mostly out of habit since there’s been very little monster activity since Chuck went and fucked off for good. He doesn’t find anything this morning but that’s hardly a surprise. It’s been a couple of weeks since they’ve been out on a hunt and that inactivity, weirdly enough, is starting to bother him less and less. 

Cas comes back from his jog about an hour before noon and with the mildest of prodding convinces Dean to join him in the shower. Afterwards, they throw together a lunch made from yesterday’s leftovers, taking their time eating and playing footsie under the table, because that’s apparently the kind of couple they are.

Usually by this time of day, Cas would be off in the Men of Letters’ library working on translations or cataloging and Dean would be on the phone helping Garth help out young, out-of-their depth hunters or in the garage, working on one of the beautiful but sadly neglected vehicles left behind there decades ago. 

Today, both of them are seemingly feeling kind of lazy and so hardly any work gets done. It’s not until late in the afternoon that Dean feels the urge to do something productive and suggests they go out for groceries, which Cas readily agrees to. 

The ride into town is quiet. Cas plays his mixtape - the damn thing should be worn out by now and Dean should  long since be sick of it but for reasons too sappy to mention he isn’t - and they sit and listen in comfortable silence. It’s not until they pass the town hall on their way to the supermarket that Cas gets a contemplative look on his face.

“Should we get married?”

Only years of experience behind the wheel prevent Dean’s hands from twitching wildly and veering them into oncoming traffic.

“What.”

Cas looks over, frowning. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while. Is there any reason for us not to get married? We’re already planning on staying together for the rest of our lives.”

“Is there any reason-” Dean wheezes. “What the fuck, Cas? Is this your idea of a proposal?”

“Are you saying no?” Cas asks, mildly curious, as if they’re talking about the fucking weather and not getting married. “Because we don’t have to.”

Dean stares ahead, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. “Are you actually asking?”

“I suppose I am.”

“You ‘suppose’,” Dean mocks. “Gee, Cas, that’s real romantic.”

“Will you marry me?”

Dean pulls over. It’s far too sudden, probably leaving tire tracks in the concrete, and the driver behind them honks his horn loudly as he passes. Dean ignores him, taking a deep breath as he finally turns to face Cas. 

“Are you sure?”

He doesn’t really have to ask - Cas wouldn’t have brought it up if he wasn’t sure - but he needs to hear it. 

Thankfully, Cas seems to get that. “I want to marry you, Dean. Do you want to marry me?”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean breathes. “I mean - yes. Yeah, I do.”

Cas nods decisively. “Alright then. Now?”

“Now?”

It’s not exactly how Dean imagined this scenario would go (not that he - shut up) but it’s somehow the most romantic fucking thing that’s ever happened to him since Cas first told him he loved him. And hey, this time no one had to die!

They turn around, since there’s no point in going in without (forged) birth certificates. Once they get to the town hall, shortly before closing, they find out that it’s a three-day mandatory waiting period between applying for a marriage license and them actually being allowed to get married.

Cas suggests they use the interim time to pick up wedding rings. They wind up spending the next day driving to Topeka, where they find a couple of silver rings in a pawn shop. They’re tarnished but otherwise in good condition and once they get home, Dean spends the rest of the evening cleaning them while trying very hard not to think about just what they’re for.

The second day, Cas spends out back tending to his garden while Dean almost dials Sam’s number repeatedly before hanging up, torn between wanting to let his brother know that he’s getting married and not wanting to jinx it.

The third day, they head back into town. They arrive at the town hall just after it opens and it’s not until they’re standing in front of the clerk that Dean realizes they don’t have any witnesses. The clerk assures him that they don’t need one for civil ceremonies and the next ten minutes pass in a blur until Dean is being prompted to place the ring on Cas’ finger.

He does so with shaking hands, stilled only once Cas places one of his own on top and gives Dean a patient smile. He’s this calm for a reason, Dean finally realizes.

This doesn’t change anything.

Married or not, they’ve already promised themselves to each other for the rest of their lives. Til death do them part doesn’t even begin to describe it, and in sickness and in health is almost laughable at this point.

This really doesn’t change anything.

Dean’s own hand is still as Cas takes his turn, sliding the silver ring upon Dean’s finger. They say their “I do”s when prompted by the clerk, exchange a short, firm kiss, and just like that it’s over.

They’re married. 

*

When Jody invites them to dinner about a week later, they still haven’t told anyone. Sam and Eileen will be there as well as Jack and the girls - it’s a regular family reunion and the perfect chance to announce the big news to everyone.

Dean has a better idea.

“Let’s not tell anyone,” he says. “At least, not before dessert. Let’s see if they notice first.”

They’re in the Impala, about half an hour away from Jody’s place. 

Cas shoots him an amused look. “Is this because Sam claimed he always knew we’d get together when we first told him we were involved?”

“No,” Dean lies. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, seeing Cas still giving him that look from the corner of his eye. “Fine, yes. But he didn’t know, for the record. He just likes to pretend he’s always on top of this shit.”

“He doesn’t like to admit when you’ve surprised him,” Cas agrees.

The conversation ends there but Dean’s plan is apparently agreed upon since once they arrive at Jody’s, Cas doesn’t say a word about their recent relationship upgrade. Jody doesn’t seem to notice anything different, but then Dean didn’t expect her to. She’s not the one they spend most of their time around. Neither do Donna, Alex, Claire or Kaia, none of them surprises. Patience, Dean is less sure about, but she at least doesn’t say anything. Her eyes do linger unusually long but that could mean anything.

Damn psychics.

Sam and Eileen arrive half an hour after Dean and Cas, Jack in tow. This is the real test; Sam and Dean may not spend as much time together in the past few months as they did in the years before but he’s still the person who knows Dean best and would be the most likely to notice a difference.

And yet, nothing.

Dean tries not to feel too smug.

They go through dinner without anyone mentioning it. Dean makes a point of reaching across the table as many times as he can, showing off the ring glinting on his finger. Cas must notice him doing it, judging by the fond exasperation on his face, but he’s the only one.

It isn’t until dessert that Patience breaks, patience (hah) clearly run out:

“Is no one going to mention that Dean and Castiel are wearing wedding rings?”

And all hell breaks loose.

Sam is wounded - mostly over Dean and Cas not telling him before they got married, though Dean can tell some part of it is his pride at not seeing this coming - but he’s over it soon enough, once they explain that it wasn’t a big deal, not some proper ceremony, just a quick affirmation of what they already knew.

“See if I make you Best Man at my wedding after this, jerk,” Sam tells Dean.

“Your wedding?” Eileen asks pointedly. 

Jody and Donna offer their congratulations before the conversation can get awkward, and Kaia, Alex, and Patience chime in with theirs as well. Jack looks confused at the whole proceeding, finally asking whether this means there won’t be any bouquet to catch, which only means Dean has gravely failed him in his pop culture education (oh, who’s he kidding, as if half the romcoms Jack has watched didn’t come directly from the recommended tab on Dean’s Netflix account). 

Finally, with a pointed elbow from Kaia and a hangdog expression from Cas, Claire mumbles that she’s happy for them. While Dean doesn’t doubt that’s true he also knows that this is more complicated for her than the rest of them, and for the first time he kind of feels guilty about springing this news on everyone. 

It doesn’t last long, not after Donna cheerfully raises her glass and proposes a toast to the happy couple and everyone else follows suit. They chant for them to kiss and, blushing outrageously, Dean complies, leaning over to press a quick kiss against Cas’ lips. 

“So, who proposed?” Sam asks once the hooting and hollering has calmed.

“Cas did,” Dean says, slinging an arm around his husband’s - his husband’s - shoulders. “And it was the least romantic proposal of all time, you should’ve heard him.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “If I had left it up to you, we never would have gotten married.”

“He didn’t even give me time to pick out flowers,” Dean informs Sam gravely. 

“There’s always the vow renewal,” Cas says, the casual statement managing to sound like a threat, and Dean shuts up. 

The conversation moves on, the mood noticeably cheerier. As Jack and Sam launch into a story of their most recent hunt, Dean leans against Cas.

“We could have flowers, if you want,” he mutters. 

Cas smiles at him, so bright and easy that it makes Dean’s heart stutter. He takes Dean’s hand, rubbing his thumb over the cool silver of Dean’s ring.

“That’s not necessary,” he says. “I’ve got everything I want right here.”

[gale-gentlepenguin]

ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 32

Happy Halloween to everyone! I hope that you enjoy this treat. Sorry this took so long to write out. This one took a few rewrites to get it where I wanted it to be.

Plus, Real life stuff got in the way So hopefully this will be a nice little treat for you all.

(Master Post)

__________________________________________________________________

Marinette watched in horror as she watched her best friend struggle on the floor.

She dashed to her side, and tried to help Alya get that weird mask off her face.

“By all means go right ahead. Its already too late.” Masquerade laughed as she watched Marinette struggle. “Soon enough she will be helping me take you down.”

The designer pushed the words of the psychotic akuma out of her mind. She refused to let her friend get turned into a mindless drone like before.

“It wont come off!” Marinette grunted as she tried so hard to remove it.

Masquerade watched her bracelet, waiting for a change to occur.

Alya’s muffled screams and frantic movements stopped.

“Alya?”

Marinette jumped up as she watched her friend transform, her casual clothes transformed into a familiar black and white costume. The Wi-Fi symbol on her chest. Lady Wifi has returned.

Masquerade’s bracelet gained a new charm, one looking reminiscent of a cell phone.

“And now she is my friend.” The villain stated as she watched Marinette start stepping away from the enslaved akuma.

“Alya… you need to fight it. You can’t let her control you.”

“Sorry Marinette, but Alya is unable to answer.” Masquerade mocked. “But I can take a message for you.”

Lady wifi stood silent, like an inactive robot, awaiting orders from its master. The inner machinations of the mind are not shown with the emotionless white mask covering her face.

Marinette turned her eyes toward the mask themed akuma, anger burning in her pupils.

“Let her go Lila. Let them all go before things get serious. Your plan will fail, Ladybug and Chat noir will arrive and beat the akuma out of you. Then you will have to answer for this too.”

Masquerade’s smile faded when she saw the fierce look. Marinette was not a sniveling mess, she actually looked even more defiant then before!

“Acting all high and mighty. I think I will enjoy turning you into my helpless puppet next.”

Masquerade lifted her hand towards Marinette, waiting to unmask her deepest secrets, and break her down.

“When I get a peek at what is hiding behind all of that fake courage, it will all come crashing down. Now let’s see your greatest secrets.”

Marinette looked around, trying to think of something. If Lila figured out her big secret, it was over. Ladybug would be exposed. She needed a way out, until she noticed something. Masquerade wasn’t doing anything.

“Huh?”

Marinette was perplexed by the akuma simply standing there.

“Ummm... are you going to do it now or...”

“Why can’t I see your secrets? My powers should allow me to see what you’re hiding and allow me to exploit it. It worked on everyone else I used it on, why not you?”

“Maybe I just don’t have any secrets to hide.” Marinette commented, watching with a bit of satisfaction as the akuma’s smug look shift.

Masquerade felt her frustration and anger boil at the comment. Something wasn’t adding up.

“Hawkmoth!” She cried out in rage.

A purple butterfly outline popped out.

“What is it?” The dark voice connected in her head.

“Why can’t I read Marinette’s secrets?” Masquerade angrily questioned.

“What?”

“Her secrets! I was able to zero in on everyone else I’ve used the ability on. Why does it not work on her!? Of all people I want this power to work on!”

Marinette felt both concerned and a bit flattered that she was the one Lila wanted to defeat the most. It was sort of mutual.

“Your power works on anyone I’ve akumatized, regardless of who it is.” The butterfly villain communicated. 

“So… your saying you didn’t akumatize her before? How is that possible?”

“I haven’t gotten to every single person in Paris.”

“You’ve akumatized that stupid pigeon man 26 times! How have you not gotten everyone!?”

“Paris is a big city, even if I akumatized someone every day, I doubt I would have hit 1/10th of the population. Besides, it takes strong negative emotions for me to send out an akuma. And that man seems to just be the easiest target for it. “ Hawkmoth defended himself. “Its not like I WANT to akumatize him every other day.”

“Unbelievable!”

“Just get the miraculous. That is your focus, the girl can wait for later.”

Masquerade’s butterfly outline dispelled as hawkmoth was finished with that conversation.

“Well that sucks. I guess I can just go back to plan A. Having you watch as I turn everyone against you... aren't here. What!”

Masquerade frantically looked around for the teen she had been antagonizing and found that she was no longer in the same spot. In fact, she was no longer in the office!

Marinette had decided to slip away from the akuma while she was having her little tantrum to the evil butterfly man.

“Why didn't you do something!” She shouted at Lady Wifi.

“You did not give me an order.” Lady Wifi answered robotically. 

Masquerade glared at the akuma servant. She would almost think it was rebelling against her.

“Even as a mindless servant you still find a way to ruin things.”

She looked around and noticed the other akuma in the room that was still on the floor.

“Dark Owl get up!”

The owl themed akuma got up from the floor. Removing parts of the broken pot from his costume.

Masquerade snapped her fingers. Catching the attention of Dark Owl and Lady Wifi. 

“Both of you, I want Marinette brought back to me right now! I want to make sure she stays quiet and sees everything we have set up. I don’t need her causing trouble.”

______________________________________________________________________

“…and that is everything.” A young woman said with a mixture of relief and excitement. She had finally finished setting everything up in the school infirmary. She had organized the files, restocked the bandages, changed the sheets on the resting cots, and put her personal decals on the desk. She was starting her first day as the school nurse, and things have been going up.

She put herself back out there and started dating Curtis, the sweet guy she met last week despite what would’ve normally been a deal breaking misunderstanding, she got into the med school program she wanted to get into and will be attending part time, and she managed to get a job at the school she went to when she went to Lycee.

She heard a ding from the front of the nurse’s office just as she was about to sit down.

“First student of the day. I better see what they need.”

She exited the small office area in the infirmary to see a blonde student who was clearly impatient

“What is taking so long!?” The teen shouted.

“Hello there. How can I help you?”

The blonde looked up a bit to see the nurses smile, she rolled her eyes.

“Who the hell are you? Isnt there supposed to be a different woman here?”

“If you are referring to the previous school nurse, she retired officially last week. I am the new school nurse. You can call me Nurse Angela.”

Angela never really liked using her last name, it made her sound old. So, she would be fine with the kids calling by her first name. It also helps with psychology, allowing more for a social dynamic based on mutual respect rather than authority.

“Whatever.”

Angela felt a twinge of frustration at the girl’s dismissal. But she kept her smile.

“And you are?”

The teen smirked.

“Chloé Bourgeous. And before you ask, yes, the daughter of the mayor.”

Angela felt a shiver go down her spine. She remembered from what the previous nurse told her. That Chloé was the mayor’s bratty daughter who would use her father’s influence to get anyone fired if she got angry enough.

‘That at least explains her rude attitude. She is a spoiled Brat.’

Angela was not going to let this bother her. She was going to take it in stride. She would be kind and courteous as she planned to be with any student at the Dupont.

“So, Chloé. What brings you here?”

Chloé walks in.

“My chair broke because someone sabotaged my chair. I ended up bruising my… anyway I need some ice, and anything to numb the pain.”

“My goodness! That sounds terrible. Who would do such a thing?”

“It was probably Marinette, that nasty little rat. Adding insult to injury now that she is dating Adrien.”

Nurse Angela moved to get some ice from the freezer for the bruised bottom of the Mayor’s daughter, listening to the girl vent. She was sure that whoever this Marinette girl was, probably didn’t do it. And if somehow, she did, it was likely because the annoying blonde deserved it. But that was not something Angela felt was worth mentioning. She kept that bit to herself.

“She is probably blackmailing my adrikins with something. There is no way he would be dating her without some sort of reason.”

“Is it possible that maybe he just likes her?” Angela inquired as she presented the bag of ice to Chloé.

Chloé looked at the nurse as if she had just told her that she had 3 eyes and a scorpion tail.

“Adrien liking Marinette?! That is ridiculous, Utterly ridiculous! There is no way that Adrien would…”

Chloé felt her mind flash through moments. Adrien and Marinette about to kiss for that movie, Adrien and Marinette dancing at her party? The photos she found of them running from fans, that kiss at the picnic during heroes’ day. Adrien taking Marinette to that interview instead of her… The stubborn blonde felt as if everything clicked into place.

“Chloé? Is everything okay?” The nurse called out, trying to get the spaced-out teen’s attention.

“He might actually LIKE her!”

Chloé felt her own skin crawl as she made her realization.

Angela didn’t know how to respond to this situation.

“I am going to straighten Adrien out right now! I am not going to let him make such a foolish mistake!”

The nurse could tell this could be bad if the mayor’s daughter was so heated, what if she got this innocent girl expelled? If she stood by and did nothing then her time at the school would be internally marked with the regret of not stopping such a potential disaster.

“Wait, Miss Bourgeois.”

Chloé stopped.

“What is it?”

“I… I just noticed that you’re limping. The injury might be more serious than you think. Let me have a look at it closer before you leave.”

The mayor’s daughter would simply have left without a second thought. But having a limp would make her walk much less dignified and lacking the power she needs to intimidate, but mainly that she would look lame with a limp.

“Alright, just make it quick.”

______________________________________________________________________________

“I don’t get why you felt the need to leave.” The cat kwami rolled his eyes. “If you want to be rebellious Adrien, we could leave the school and head to the movies. Though if we do, you should invite your girlfriend.”

“Plagg, this isn’t about rebellion or future date ideas. Something isn’t right with this whole situation. I just want to sneak a peek in the office, make sure Marinette and Alya get their story out, and then I am headed right back to class. No problem.” Adrien summarized as they kept walking.

Plagg noticed someone headed their way and went to hide in Adrien’s pocket.

Adrien took notice that it was his homeroom teacher. Perhaps he could ask her.

“Hey Ms.Bustier. Can I ask you a quick question?”

The red headed teacher walked past the teen without acknowledging his question. Her eyes focused on what was ahead.

“That’s weird… She would always stop to help a student.”

Adrien could feel that his favorite teacher may have been affected by something sinister.

“Ms.Bustier, can you hear me out for a second?” He asked as he touched her shoulder to try and get her attention.

The mirage of her appearance shifted from the homeroom teacher to the stylized patchwork costume of a familiar akuma enemy.

Adrien was surprised to see the true form of the imposter. The kiss zombie maker, Zombizou.

The akuma turned to show the face mask that hid her face. Her attention was now firmly on the boy, whether he wanted it or not.

Adrien backed away, nervously keeping his eyes on the teacher as he carefully backed up.

“You know, I think I will just ask someone else.”

Adrien took down the next hall running.

______________________________________________________________________

Masquerade reclined in her chair, her frustration was growing as she wondered what was taking those two minions she sent out to capture Marinette so long.

“They shouldn’t be having that much difficulty. She is just one person!”

She heard a ring, and knew her sentimonster was trying to contact her.

“What is it Simulare?”

“The illusion I had on Zombizou was broken. Someone is on to us, and the minion is in pursuit.”

Masquerade felt a headache forming. She didn’t have time for a wild goose chase. She needed to move on to phase two of her plan, making her army of akuma.

“Track down Marinette and this other  person that found out about Zombizou, keep them busy as long as possible. I am going to move on to phase two. Make sure no one is on to us.”

“Understood. I’ll get them back in the office and make sure neither of them escape.”

“Good”

Masquerade ended the call and felt her head ease a bit. The sentimonster she was given was obedient and competent. It was based on her mindset, so it would make sense that it would be capable of handling this problem.

“Now, let’s get that army.”

______________________________________________________________________________

“Give me a break.” Marinette muttered to herself.

She thought she would have time to transform once she escaped the office, but the two akuma were right out of the office before she had time to make sure everything was clear.

In her rush she cut a corner down a hallway and ended up colliding with another person.

“Ouch.” They cry out in unison, both looking to realize who they bumped into. Their faces turned to relief.

“Marinette!” “Adrien!”

The two called out in unison.

“Why are you running?” “Why are you running?”

“An akuma!” “An akuma!”

“An akuma?” “An akuma?”

They both look behind the other to notice the incoming akumas approaching them.

“As cute as this is, we need to go.”

Adrien Grabs Marinette’s Hand and they both head to the open area and try to get to the main entrance.

‘I need to get Adrien somewhere safe, then I can go transform into Ladybug.’ Marinette thought to herself, unaware that Adrien was thinking the same thing.

They make quick movements down hallway, moving up and down staircases to confuse their pursuers. They managed to give them the slip as the controlled akuma seemed to not be able of basic reasoning and quick fake outs and movements.

The two make their way down to what appeared to be the front of the school.

“The entrance!” Marinette called out. “Okay, we split up at the entrance and try to get help. They can’t catch us both.”

The run to the entrance only for them to stop short, colliding with some invisible wall.

It was only after making contact did the front entrance of the school shift back into a wall. The layout of the entire school seemed to shift instantly. The school had been put under an illusion to trick them into thinking they were escaping.

“It’s an illusion. Which means Lila must be involved with that group of akumas.” Adrien exclaimed.

“More like she is the cause. She is the one controlling the akumatized mask wearers. She got the Principal and Alya.”

“Wait, does this mean that Lila’s power is to make akuma!?”

“From what I saw, she can only akumatize people that have been akumatized before using her face masks. You haven’t been akumatized right?” Marinette questioned.

“No, and since she didn't get you, you haven't either right?”

“Yea, though I have had a few close calls.”

“So, if Lila’s power is akumatizing people, what akuma made this illusion on the school?”

“That would be me.” A third voice calls out.

The two turned to look and see a familiar fox themed villain smiling confidently.

“Volpina!”

“Not exactly.”

The Volpina impersonator looked around to see if the other akumatized servents were going to arrive.

“Seems you both are quite clever when it comes to annoying Mistress Masquerade.”

“Masquerade?”

“That’s what Lila’s calling herself.”

“Oh... cause of the masks.”

The villain rolls her eyes, encapsulating the personality of the arrogant volpina that it was pretending to be.

“Masquerade realizes that you two are both quite difficult to snag with mindless servants, so she requested I handle this.”

“No, you won’t.” Marinette grabs Adrien’s Hand and tries to run away only for the Faux Fox to flip in front of them

“Yea, I am not letting you out of my sight. Now be good and come along peacefully.”

Adrien moves in front of Marinette.

“Go, I’ll hold her off.”

“But…”

“Go. I trust you.” Adrien smiles as he looks to her for a moment.

Marinette wanted to stay and fight with him, but she knew that she needed to go and transform. Ladybug will be needed before this blows up.

“I’ll get help.”

Marinette runs away from the two as fast as she can. Adrien making sure to block the way should their foe get any ideas.

“She won’t get far, she will get captured before she even gets a chance.”

Adrien shook his head.

“You would be surprised with how just how amazing Marinette is.”

Marinette rushed out of sight and into the closest bathroom, quickly making sure it was a safe place to transform.

“Coast is clear. Time for Ladybug to step in.”

“Let’s hope we can get to Adrien in time before things get worse.” Tikki commented.

“Don't worry, I trust he’ll be okay. Tikki! Spots on!”

______________________________________________________________________________

“Can you believe it Juleka?” The peppy perfume enthusiast squealed. “Marinette and Adrien are finally an item.”

“Yes, I was there rose.” Juleka commented with an eye roll and a smile.

“I know! I am just so happy for them both.” Rose calms herself a bit. “Though… how will your brother take it?”

The purple haired teen reflected on the comment.

“It will be an adjustment, but I am sure Lulu will be fine once he gets a couple songs out of it.”

“I’ll be sure to be supportive.”

Juleka patted Rose’s head, smiling sweetly at the blonde’s caring attitude. She decided now would be a good time to spring that surprise on her. She was planning on showing her during lunch, but since Ms.Bustier wasn’t in class. Now would be the perfect time to show Rose the earrings she got her.

She casually reached into her bag, sliding her hand into her lunch bag, trying to find the earring box, only to notice it not there. Her hand moved frantically searching.

“Is something wrong?” Rose inquired, a bit of concern on her face.

“No, nothing. Nothing is wrong, just…” Juleka dismissed as she kept searching only to know for certain that her gift was not in there.

“Are you sure?”

“I just need do something really quick.”

She quickly grabbed her phone and calmly while hoping that her brother would see her text.

In her quick movement, she failed to notice the door of the classroom opening.

_______________________________________________________________________

“Psst, Luka. Luka!” A dark-haired teen whispered, trying to get the attention of the teal-tipped hair guitarist that was hiding his sleeping face with an open science book.”

“Hmm?” The tired teen responded with his eyes still closed. He was barely awake. He had been up all night working on that new song that was stuck in his head. He could still hear it playing in his thoughts as he tried to shake himself awake.

“Your phone vibrated, seemed important.”

“Oh, thanks Theo.” He moved his hand to take a look at his phone.

The science teacher was rambling on about molecules or something, clearly unaware of how disinterested everyone in the class was with his boring lecture.

Luka looked through to see a few text messages from his sister.

‘Hey, can you check your lunch to see if there is a jewelry box in there? Rose’s gift is in there.’

‘If you find it, can you swing by around your free period to bring it to me?’

Luka quickly snuck his hand into his backpack and sure enough he felt the small box. He was about to text a response. But stopped when he read the last two texts.

‘Sh*t there is an akuma in the class!’

Luka’s eyes shot open, his sister was in danger. Which also meant his band was also in danger. He needed to get there.

He shot up from his chair. And started making his way to the door.

“Mr.Couffaine, where do you think you’re going?”

“Family emergency.”

The science teacher was about to tell the young boy to wait until his parent calls, but he remembered who is mother was and what she did the last time he held up her kid when Anarke wanted to pick him up early. The teacher proceeded to held back his response.

“Proceed. Just be sure to get the notes from today’s lesson.”

Luka was out the door before the teacher could finish.

______________________________________________________________________

A car speeds down the road, the driver cursing to herself as she tries to move faster.

‘Get in, get Adrien, and get out before everything hits the fan.’

Nathalie mentally repeated to herself. She knows that pushing herself too hard was also dangerous. She couldn't risk feeling weak right now.

The driver slammed the break as she arrived at the school. She needed to hurry. She parked the car and opened the door.

“Lets hope that this akuma hasn't gotten to Adrien yet.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Ms. Bustier’s class had diverted all their attention to the costumed individual in the front of the classroom. The eerie masks that adorned her costume seemed to unsettle everyone.

Juleka put her phone away and joined in on what everyone was staring at

Alix was the one to say what was on everyone’s mind.

“Who the f*** are you?”

The akuma smirked.

“Excellent, a volunteer.”

Raising her hand and pointing towards Alix, her charm bracelet began to glow.

“Interesting, seems that you have quite a soft spot for cute things.”

The class turned to look at Alix with confusion.

Alix kept her cool.

“And? Is there a point?” Alix rolled her eyes, ignoring the akuma’s attempt to get under her skin. It would take more than that to actually do anything to her.

“You pretend you have this ‘Devil may care’ attitude, that you are too cool to care about what people think, but really you are more obsessed with how people perceive you than anyone else in here.”

Alix felt her smirk falter for a second.

“You are really sensitive about your height and anytime someone brings it up you are in a bad mood for the rest of the day. But what really gets to you is your ‘Family’. You hate how your brother is a laughing stock because of his crackpot theories and your greatest fear is that no matter how much you try to be this punk rebel, you will always be cast as ‘The Conspiracy nut’s sister’.”

“Shut up! You don’t know my life!” Alix yelled.

“Not so fun getting exposed, is it?”

The class realized immediately who this mysterious akuma was.

Masquerade smiled as she flung a mask right at the pink haired teen. Causing her to fall down. And struggle to get the mask off, but before anyone could help her. It was too late.

The class could only watch in horror as their classmate transformed into their Akuma persona. Before standing up.

The class tried to make a break for it. They knew full well the dangers of this new akuma.

“Timebreaker, guard the door.”

The akuma skated to the door and everyone jumped back. They knew that touching Timebreaker was not a good idea.

“Lila, this isn’t cool. Let Alix go.” Nino called out.

The Mask akuma shook her head.

“Lila is not a thing anymore. She was unmasked and dismissed. But now I have a new mask, I’m Masquerade. Soon enough, you will all be unmasked and given a new mask that better suits you. Alya knows that very well.”

Nino’s his eyes flared at the statement.

“What did you do to my girl?”

Masquerade pointed her hand at him just as her charm bracelet glowed, now with a rollerblade charm added to it.

“The same thing I am about to do to all of you.”

______________________________________________________________________

Will the rest of the class fall victim to Masquerade’s evil plan? Will Ladybug be able to save Adrien from the Sentimonster? Will Nathalie get to Adrien before its too late? Will I ever update consistently?

Fine out all these questions and more in the next part.

Thank you all for reading the most recent addition to Soulmate Survey.

Please let me know your thoughts on this chapter and if you really liked it. Reblog it. (Sharing is the only way my story actually gets out.) Plus, tagging has been kind of glitchy for me, so until that gets straightened out, I can't tag people for the story at the moment.

[liquid-luck-00]

Meeting for the First Time

Bio!Dad Bruce

So here is my first contribution to the Bio!Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020, 

Day 1: Meeting for the First Time

@biodad-bruce-month

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Okay granted noting seemed to ever go Marinette’s way. But this was the ultimate punch in the gut the universe could send her.

It started off as a normal Friday, 8 months since the liar came back to school. 8 months since she threatened to pull everyone, she cared about from her and leave her alone. Well 6 month ago Lila’s threat came true. Today she simply walked into class and ignore the cruel stares and watched as feet would pop out to trip her. Well she made it to her desk in one piece and that was a plus.

She was pulling out her tablet and then she heard and felt something slam onto her desk. It was a binder nearly exploding with paper’s and behind it was none other than Alya. “Hey Girl” she started trying to keep her voice friendly, but the repulsion was evident in her voice. “We were wondering if you could do us a favor” she gave Marinette a strained smile and when she didn’t answer continued “Can you help me plan Lila’s sweet 16 as a way to make up for bullying her.”

Marinette was beginning to become livid, her best friend, scratch that her EX- best friend, is asking her to plan a bully’s and a Liar’s party. No, oh Kwamii No she will not be doing that. She was about to say so when Miss Bustier walked in holding several envelopes.

“Please take a seat” Miss Bustier said and that was when Mari moved the binder as far from her as possible. “Today I have the results of the genetic testing we sent a while ago.” Everyone was beginning to murmur excitedly. Mari could only shrink into her seat. She was dreading this for multiple reasons. “Marinette would you please?”

Mari stood up and walked to her teacher took the envelopes and passed them out to the designated person. She kept hers and slipped it into her bag as soon as she got back to her seat.

She knew what it would say. She knew that it would not have what her ‘friends’ would think. It would only prove as Lila would claim that she was not actually wanted and that she was bullying her because she was loved, and Mari wasn’t. Luckily, no one noticed her as they were too excited with their own results. It wasn’t until the lunch bell rang that the dreaded moment came.

“So, Mari what were your results.” Adrien asked, once upon a time she would have gushed at him talking to her but now her crush was nothing but a pile of ashes in the wind.

“I don’t know” She replied as she picked up her bag and began to head out of the class.

“Wait you didn’t look at it” Adrien practically yelled and that got the class’s attention. He was giving her a frown and couldn’t believe that she wouldn’t even look.

“Why would you not look at your result Marinette?” Lila spoke in a sickly-sweet voice. “Are you ashamed that you have someone you want to hide from the class?” everyone began to murmur and was beginning to give her skeptical glares. As if she would attack them, almost no one noticed how Kim and Nino came around to block the door.

Mari was beginning to grow frustrated that they would not let her leave and that they continued to glare at her like a criminal. She had enough. “I WAS ADOPTED!!!” that made everyone go quiet and stared at her. “I was adopted when I was a couple of moths old and I have NO intention on knowing my biological family” she turned, and Nino and Kim were shocked that she simply slipped passed them and went home.

However, she knew who her biological father was. Well that isn’t the entire truth, she found out she was adopted when she was 10 years old. Her Biological father reached out stating he didn’t know until recently that he had a child. He wanted to get to know her and be a part of her life. However, Mari was stubborn, Tom and Sabine were her parents, so she told him she didn’t want to meet. Surprise though he was stubborn as well, he gave Mari his number and to call or message him even if it were to complain about him or anything at all. This had surprised her, and she did. She texted her father with things she didn’t feel she could tell her parents.

For the past 5 years she had told him about school, or mistakes she had made, and about her passion in fashion. He always seemed to listen and just let her rant. It was good for her. When she became ladybug, she was excited to tell him about the heroes of Paris. He sometimes never answered but she saw that he read them and that was comforting.

He became someone outside of Paris who helped anchor her. He would send her gifts for her birthday and messaged her when he could, and he really did help her though most of what was going on at school. She only knew him as Father, no name attached and that was fine. That was why she didn’t want to open the letter. She didn’t want a name to the person who cares for her as Marinette.

She went to the bakery and climbed the stairs knowing that it would be quiet. Her parents were taking a trip abroad for their anniversary along with her Nonna and that left her alone. “Tikki?” the little goddess floated up to her. “Should… should I… should I look at the names?” Mari wasn’t sure if she ever wanted to know but she also knew that she possibly would like to know.

“Mari the choice is yours but know that no one not even your father will think less of you if you never want to know.” Tikki really is always sure and can always make her feel better. Mari simply nodded went to get something to eat and stared at the letter she pulled out. As she finished her lunch and washed her plate, she turned to the letter with determination she opened it and read. Her Mother was blank, meaning that she probably hasn’t put her information on any site, but does say that she is of European decent. Then she looked at her father, he had a photo, black hair, and the same bluebell eyes. He was dressed in a suit and she looked at the name, Bruce Wayne. Next to her own photo was the photo of boy with tanned skin, black hair, and emerald green eyes, the name next to it was Damian Wayne. So, she had a brother, he looked close to her age, maybe he was the reason why her father contacted her years ago. Her father was also from European decent but that was about it. She’ll look into it more after school she dropped the envelope off in her room and left to go back.

She went back to class and sat in her seat before the bell rang so she was the first person back into the classroom. She kept her head down and didn’t look up from the sketch she was working on, she heard the whispers and caught a few glances at her, but she ignored them.

“Mari?” oh Kwamii why does he have to talk now again. She looked up and his expression softened into a small smile or more like a frown. “Do you…” he rubbed his neck. At this point everyone was staring between the two completely silent. “Do you want to talk about it?”

At this she scoffed “Why?” she was confused at this they wouldn’t talk to her unless it was to yell at her so why should she be vulnerable for them.

Alix spoke up “Why do you bother asking her anyways Adrien?” she snarked throwing Mari a glare. Adrien looked sheepish, and that was when Lila struck.

“Well if she puts it out in the open, she wouldn’t bully me, since we can help her. Make her feel loved since her parents didn’t want her” she spoke calmly and sweetly, and everyone nodded and agreed.

“Tell us Mari, you can trust us girl” Alya spoke from the class.

“Now why...” Mari was cut off as Miss Bustier entered to start the class. However, not even 10 minutes into the class the door opened. A man in a suit holding a folder came into the room.

“Miss Bustier” he asked, and the teacher nodded, so he continued. “I am sorry to disturb the class, but I need to speak with Miss Dupain-Cheng”

The teacher nodded and called “Marinette” gesturing towards the door. But of course, nothing was ever simple in this class.

“Sir if you need Marinette then you should also take Lila” Alya spoke up.

The man simply looked confused, “Why would I do that?”

“Marinette is bullying Lila so if you need Mari you need Lila as well” she huffed proud of her logic.

“I am sorry, but I really only need Miss Dupain-Cheng”

“Well whatever you need to say to her you can tell all of us”

Now the man looked exasperated and he turned towards the teacher. She nodded “It is for the best whatever you need to tell Marinette you can tell the class.” She stated.

He huffed and walked up the stairs to Marinette. “I am so very sorry for your loss Miss Dupain-Cheng. If you would please come with me, you are needed to verify the bodies.” This left the class in a quiet shock. They couldn’t believe what they just heard. Mari was wide eyed filled with tears ready to fall and was numb. She didn’t hear when everyone began to speak at once demanding answers of the man. And now Mari could tell he was mad. “Really I do not need to answer your questions as this matter only pertains to Miss Dupain-Cheng, this should have been done in private, so you” he pointed at Miss Bustier “will most likely be getting a call as soon as I will report this.” This shut up the class and he helped her up and walked her out.

Identifying the bodies was a blur in her mind, she was told they died as a riot stormed the airport on their way home. She was asked if she had anywhere to go “can you please give me a moment?” she spoke weakly and the woman who was in charge of her smiled and left her in the room. Thank the Kwamii that Hawkmoth had been inactive lately, so she was able to cry and mourn. She needed to tell someone anyone, but those she loved were gone and now what was she going to do. Tikki popped her head out of the bag and patted her leg. That was when she saw her phone, she picked it up and scrolled through her contacts. She got to the name Bio! Dad and pressed the call.

It rang a few times before he picked up. “Marinette is everything okay you don’t usually call?” she started to cry, and this put worry into his voice. “Mari sweetie what’s wrong. Deep breaths with me 1 in, hold 2, out 3. Again.” He repeated this until she was no longer gasping for breath.

“Maman, Papa, and Nonna died” she couldn’t keep strong anymore “please, please don’t leave me too.”

“I won’t Mari” his voice was the softest she had ever heard from him “I’ll be on the first plane over. I won’t leave you I promise” he hung up and she was finally starting to feel lighter. The woman from before came back.

“Are you okay sweetie?” she gave her a smile.

“I think I will be?” she gave a small smile.

“That call must have helped” Mari nodded in acceptance to the statement. “Who was it?”

“My Father, he is coming for me” the woman looked at her as if she grew another head. “My biological father. My maman, papa, and nonna that died were my adoptive family.” At that the woman gave her a sympathetic smile and a hug. “they were my family but…”

“Sweetie you don’t have to always be strong its okay to be sad.” She began to cry again. She was dropped off at the bakery by Officer Raincomprix, who gave her a sad smile and then left. Mari fell asleep in her parents’ room, Tikki curled up next to her.

She woke up the next morning and opened the Bakery, allowed in the staff, and went back to the apartment. Afterwards she went back up and curled up in her parents’ bed, but a notification on her phone made her stir again.

Bio!Dad: I’m in Paris where do you want me to meet you Mari?

Mari: The Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie

Bio!Dad: I’ll be there soon I promise.

Not long after a staff member knocked on the door, she recognized the voice. “Someone is here to see you”

“Mari can I come in?” she heard Bruce and that prompted her to open the door. She didn’t care that she looked like a mess, as soon as the door opened, she hugged him and started to cry for what felt like the hundredth time in the past 24 hrs. He murmured reassurances to her and led her to the couch.

---

If anyone had told him that he was going to rush onto a plane because of the daughter he has never met in person called him crying, he would not have given you any kind of reaction. But here he is on a jet headed to Paris to meet and comfort his daughter, after her parent’s death. Yikes that is a lot to handle.

The only positive to all this is that he left discreetly enough that he wasn’t tailed by the boys. And that was a relief, if Mari had to meet him for the first time that alone was one thing but meeting Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian would probably send the child over the edge. That is considering the fact that she actually deals with and processes emotions like a human and not like a bat.

He hadn’t even finished checking into his hotel and he was restless he knew that Mari needed him and if Bruce was anything, he was overprotective of his family. And right now, one of his family was hurt and he had to do something. He texted her and she told him to go to a bakery.

Well if she said to go to a Bakery then he went to a Bakery. He stepped in and looked around before going up to the counter.

“Excuse me Miss?” he stated towards a Girl no older than Twenty behind the counter placing pastries into the case.

“Hello, how can I assist you today?” she smiled.

“I am here to speak with Marinette.”

“Ah. Your first time here right.” He nodded his head. “That girl always forgets. Follow me” he was confused but followed the young woman through the kitchen and to a small hallway and up a flight of stairs. Where she knocked on a door. There was shuffling on the other side “Someone is here to see you” she plainly stated, and footsteps were heard near the door but just shy of opening it.

“Mari can I come in?” his question was tentative but even he was surprised by the softness of his voice.

The door swung open and there she stood. Oh, she was adorable. Her black hair was in a messy bun and had blue highlights that emphasized her bluebell eyes, which were red and puffy from her crying. She fell into him into a hug and she was so small, he had to protect her from everything. The worker left and he moved the two of them to the couch.

After a couple of hours, he got the full story and to say he was pissed was an understatement. First there was the teacher and how they had handled the situation was awful, but besides that he wanted Mari safe, but he had to know what she wanted instead of making the decisions for her. He learned the hard way with his boys.

Next

[dirtyoatmeall]

Boyfriend (Tsukishima x Reader)

A/N: Sorry I’ve so inactive lately!! I’ve had this song stuck in my head forever so here is my solution to that. This is a Soulmate au! in which whatever song is stuck in your soulmates head is stuck in yours, and vice versa :)

Pairing: Tsukki x Nekoma Manager! Reader. (Tbh I don’t think I used pronouns for reader in this.)

Word count: 915

Warnings: None (bad writing)

````

He was at the end of his rope, patience thinning everyday the melody was on loop in his head, catchy background music to his day by day.

Normally Tsukishima didn’t mind your music choices, not that he’d admit it, but for the last three weeks the same song has been on repeat in his mind. Now, don’t get him wrong, he’s definitely had songs stuck in his head that long, so have you, but this was different, this wasn’t like your usual music tastes, no, this was a song he hasn’t heard in years, not since he was a preteen. It was ridiculously cheesy and catchy, he only had to hear it a few times before it was stuck in his head, rendering him unable to change the song in his head as he had before. Now he even heard it when you were asleep, and it was starting to piss him off.

His teammates had obviously noticed the change in his attitude, even if he was moody before, it was at a whole new level the past few weeks. Of course, Yamaguchi had explained his predicament to the team one day after Tsukki almost spiked a ball at Hinata for laughing to loud. He didn’t tell them what song it was, he didn’t even know, but everyone suspected it was a catchy pop song, it just seemed like the type of thing to piss Tsukishima off. Said angry blond grumbled as he sat on the bus, yanking his headphones on to try and drown out the sound with other music. Yamaguchi smiled softly as he sat down next to him, he hoped the two of you met soon, before Tsukishima actually snaps.

The ride to the camp went by rather peacefully, the teen stretching their limbs as they excited the bus. The team entered the building , the sounds of volleyballs at chattering filling their ears, along with some out of tune singing. That’s when Tsukki first laid eyes on you.

You were with Nekoma, the red manager jacket on your frame alluding him to your relation to them. You were singing off pitch into a water bottle, pointing to the different boys as you sang the words, swaying your body and making exaggerated gestures. The team was either singing along with you or laughing. Kuroo was singing to Kenma, and Yaku was kicking Lev, who was serenading the libero. Inuoka was red in the face and Coach Nekomata was looking on fondly at the scene. The rest of the teams were either ignoring you, or watching with interest.

Daichi snorted softly as the team walked over to Nekoma, getting set up for their first match. Tsukki took a moment to realize the rest has moved on, eyes wide as they took you in, singing the lyrics in time as the song in his head. Yamaguchi touched his elbow, snapping him out of the daze you put him in. He didn’t speak to the pinch server, instead jostling his bag onto his shoulder more and moving to follow the team, eyes never leaving your form, arm slung over a blushing Yamamoto.

Tsukishima didn’t interact with you until later that night. He had heard little snippets about you from Tanaka’s conversation with Yamamoto, fawning over the cat’s new manager. It wasn’t until after the games, when he was with the rest of the ‘third gym crew’, as Kuroo liked to call it, getting in some extra practice. Though he had heard you before he saw you, he could hear faintly you yelling for Lev, the first year in question cowering behind Kuroo before you appeared, hands on your hip as you glared at the poorly hidden spiker before moving your gaze to the rest of them. Tsukki sucked in a breath. He knew it was you. He couldn’t explain it, but everything seemed to fall into place the moment your eyes met. Your own eyes widened slightly before moving on to another, scowl on your lip as you met eyes with Kuroo. The captain went to speak, but you held up a hand, silencing him.

“I know what you’re going to say, you were getting in more practice, seeing your pals, whatever. But, doing so, you are wasting the food the rest of the managers and I cooked for you ungrateful brats. You will have plenty of time to socialize and practice afterwards, but Karasuno has some black holes as first years and everything is going to be gone before you have a chance to eat.”

Tsukki snorted at the way Kuroo, Lev, Bokuto, and Hinata deflated at your scolding, moving begrudgingly towards the mess hall, Akaashi followed them, saying something to make you laugh before leaving. He was the only one left, and he turned from you to collect the stray balls, electing to clean up before following the rest of them. You raised a single eyebrow before following his lead, grabbing the basket and pulling it towards him, humming softly as you go. Tsukki smirked at the familiar tune, dropping the balls into the basket before stepping close to you. His smirk grew at the slight blush on your features at his close proximity.

“So, have you always been a Big Time Rush fan?”

[soyforramen]

Whoops, I slipped into a follow up of this prompt.

--

“How’s the wrist?”

Such an innocuous question. It rings flat in the sharp crags that line the chasm between them, echoing hollowly between them. But it’s still more than he’d said Saturday night. More than he thought he’d say.

Betty, never one to let any pain shine through, smiles at him. Her face morphs into that perfect Cooper mask, no crack or wrinkle to suggest anything was out of the ordinary. It pierces his soul to realize that he doesn’t know how to read her anymore.

To him, she looks just as happy and carefree as the first day they’d met in third grade.

“Still sore, but no lasting damage,” she says, rolling her wrist as proof. Even her voice is peppy and varnished to perfection. “How’s your head?”

His hand moves without thought to his forehead, his fingertips grazing the ugly red mess. Jughead jerks his head to the right, a move practiced in the mirror this morning to ensure his hair covered the welt.

“Nothing an aspirin can’t take care of,” he mutters.

He raises his coffee cup to his lips to keep from mentioning the whisky and rye he’d fallen headfirst into, a palliative cure after she’d disappeared up the stairs, leaving nothing but confusion and nadir in her wake. The lingering hangover was still a symphony of banging pots and pans along his temples, a never-ending reminder of his regret (relief?) of doing nothing.

They sip their coffee in silence, waiting for the meeting to begin. The artificial bridge he’d thrown across the chasm between them frays, its tethers loosening. In less than a minute, it’s fallen into the yawning black hole that now lies between them.

Betty's words… no. Not that. It was his inaction. His confusion. His uncertainty that created this false rift between them. The gravity of it tugging and pulling at every second between them, every atom, every conceivable future between them, each a warped, stretched snapshot of a future never to be.

It was enough to make him want to crawl back into the bottle and never come out again. His hand shakes, an aftereffect of the late night drinking, and he shoves it deep into his pocket. Betty’s eyebrows draw too close together, too close to concern for his tastes.

Toni claps her hands together, and Betty shoots him one last curious look. He refuses to look at her, turning to refill his mug. When he turns back around, Betty is in her usual seat next to Archie, a plastic smile on her face. Jughead slouches against the counter, too lost in his own morbid thoughts to pay much attention to the upcoming game to notice the increasingly concerned glances Betty sends his way.

Jughead watches as his students shuffle in, the twins he affectionately calls Bill and Ted the only two showing any trace of life. The bell rings, a clanging, offensive noise that makes everyone wince. It’s doubtful he’s the only one nursing a hangover.

“How many of you did the reading?” he asks when they settle in.

A collective groan ripples throughout the room. He can’t blame them; he’d never been able to finish The Odyssey in high school either.

“Pop quiz time,” he says.

Another groan, this time with a rousing argument against it, echoes through his already pounding head. Jughead holds his hands up in a conciliatory gesture.

“I want you to write about betrayal.”

The class quiets, some exchanging glances. It’s a sharp turn, a quick 180 that throws all off them off balance. Jughead has been ruthless so far, both in his grading and in his push to get them to learn critical thinking skills. Even he’s surprised at this course of action.

“Any kind of betrayal you can think of. You can talk about personal betrayal, family betrayal. Maybe one of your friends kissed your girlfriend, or maybe your mother chose your sister’s side over yours. Or maybe you write about a fictional betrayal. Hamlet and Ophelia, Brutus and Julius Caesar, Edward Pensieve and the Turkish delight.”

Wynnie’s hand shoots up, and Jughead inwardly winces. She’s always been the one to push back against any assignment, the one who questions everything he expects from them and makes class ten times longer.

“Can we write about a made up betrayal? With characters on, like, TV or something?”

Breathing a sigh of relief, he nods. “Anything is fair game, as long as you write it in a way that someone not familiar with the show, or book, or whatever, can understand what’s going on.”

“What about poetry?” another student asks.

“So long as you put the effort in, poetry is fine. Text threads, short stories, poems, letters, anything written.”

“Can we work together?” one of the twins asks.

“Sure, as long as you don’t bother the other students,” Jughead says with a shrug.

Bill and Ted high five before dragging their desks together.

Jughead is surprised at how well they’re taking this assignment. Every last thing has been a fight with them, from getting their attention to taking a test. Betrayal, though, seems to be something everyone can relate to.

As the class begins to write, Jughead sits down at his own desk. For a moment, he watches his students, kids in the same position he was once in, and wonders why he’s even here. Riverdale offered him little more than characters he could mold into his own, a setting for the decline of small town America.

Today, though, his mind wanders along words and phrases, glimpses into a different sort of reality. One ravaged by decay and rot, left to perish alone. And yet, he can’t help but see the small, green shoots of the future poke out of the ashes, tiny hints of hope for what’s to come. Perhaps nothing is ever static and unchanging. Perhaps things can turn around.

Jughead reaches into his bag for his own blank notebook.

He’s sitting on the porch that afternoon, struggling with the illegibly written translation. It’s a shame the state requires them to teach only the recommended books; Jughead would love to see how the story unfolds when thrown onto a fire.

“Hey.”

Jughead starts. When he sees it’s only Betty (only?), he stands abruptly, his entire body on fire, his legs jittery and ready to run.

“Hey,” he repeats. “Archie’s not here, but –“

Betty shakes her head and shoves her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “Can we talk?”

He swallows. Stupid of him to think he’d get away from this conversation. Jughead waves to the chair next to him. As Betty passes, her perfume tickles his nose. Long gone is the strawberry body spray she used in high school, a sweet, cloying smell. Now it’s a perfume, one that tickles his nose and clogs his sinuses.

They sit there quietly, neither willing to speak first. He’s lost for words, unable to start.

She sits patiently, calmly. Betty seems as if she hasn’t a care in the world, as if they were there to talk about the weather. Part of her training, he realizes. She’s no longer as impulsive as she once was, reaching and grasping and desperate for an immediate answer. This Betty Cooper is a reminder of the past, but only that.

“I’m sorry,” he manages, starting with the simplest of things.

Next to him, Betty shifts. He thinks he hears her sniffle (crying? allergies? derision at his lame start?), and he has to quash his immediately reaction. All he wants to do is reach out to her, to comfort her, to promise her the world to keep her from suffering.

But he’d done that before, long ago, in a completely different world. And he’d been trod upon, brushed aside in favor of her own cruel form of betrayal. Nothing he could have done after would have fixed the wound she’d carved in his soul. Even now, seven years distanced from the teenage woes, it lay between them, still raw and sore and bleeding from the continued betrayals of his life.

He wonders how he would have responded to her if he hadn’t known. If he hadn’t come home one night early to hear her and Archie upstairs. If he hadn’t turned to the Wyrm and listened to Sweet Peas acidic sniping just to get lost among the agave pinas and the juniper berries.

“It’s not,” he stutters, trying to find his footing, unsure of what he wants to say. “I couldn’t stop loving the Betty Cooper I knew. But I also never stopped hating what she did to me.”

The admission is the first emotionally honest thing he’s said in years. It’s painful to realize how deep it lay inside him, how long it took to finally cut out this festering, putrid thing that burrowed into him. Like a tumor, it could only grow, fed by hate and anger and depression. Hate and anger for both of them. It hadn’t turned out like it was supposed to.

Now that it lay out in the open between them, he felt different. Heavier, in some ways. But there was also a release. The pressure that had been building for so long was slowly lowering, as if he’d finally found the valve that would bring things back to normal.

“And I don’t know you,” he said, the words pouring out now. “Seven years, and only a handful of texts, a few voicemails. You’re not the person I remember. Hell, everyone is different from who they were, who I thought they were.”

He pauses to run a hand through his hair. He can feel Betty’s bright eyes staring at him, pleading with him for something, anything, that will make this better.

“We’re both different now, and there’s no way you can still love me. You don’t know me, you know who I was. We can’t just pick up where we left off, even if we wanted to. There’s too much between… Even if we were stupid enough to try,” he trails off, his words meandering as they try to find footing in the rocky space between them.

“We didn’t leave things in a good place,” Betty murmurs in agreement.

She shifts, and he looks at her for the first time since they sat down. Her legs are tucked up against her body, arms wrapped around them. It’s a protective stance. Against him, perhaps, or against the bare truth that he’s put in the open. He can’t blame her, not since he’s protected himself against most of his own life in other, less healthy ways.

Jughead sighs, empty of anything else to say. He stares at the fading light glowing through the leaves. It’s the perfect, picturesque scene of two high school sweethearts reuniting. At least, it was supposed to be. He didn’t know if he ever could do that to himself again.

Archie’s old truck chugs up the street, and Jughead stands. He scrapes the palms of his free hand along his pants, the other hand gripping his book. Archie waves through the windshield with a bright grin, and Jughead gives a half-hearted wave back before going inside.

He’s exhausted; after being mad for so long, it’s strange to be so empty of feeling. He’d give the world to be able to retreat back to Alphabet City and it’s various loan sharks. There, at least, he’d know the pain was no one’s fault but his own.

Jughead closes the bedroom door behind him, shutting out the rest of the world. It wasn’t his business what Betty did despite her attempts to bring him back into her life. He didn’t know if he was ready for that, or if he’d ever be. Ever since he’d been back, her presence gnaws at him, chipping away at the walls he’d built up over the years against her presence, and it frightens him that she’s stepped back into his thoughts so quickly and easily.

Thoughts and ideas collide and churn violently in his head. He throws himself down on his bed, determined to fall asleep despite the chaos.

But this time, sleep doesn’t come as easily as it always has. Words and feelings and phrases splatter against the back of his eyelids, graffiti tattooing images of a world never known. He pushes back against the cacophony until he can stand it no longer. Desperate to empty his thoughts, Jughead turns on the bedside lamp, pulls his laptop out from under the bed, and begins to write more than he’s been able to for years.

[doctors-star]

hi its me im back again #43 for lister/rimmer? (a non-cowboy alternative)

“I’ve never met a more stubborn person in my life.” “You like it.” “Do I?”

-

Lister taps his fingers against the iron girder. It’s painted the same red as the Dwarf, but chipping and loose - probably also like the Dwarf, only he’s not been out to have a gander in a while. Always seems to be something else to do these days.

He sighs heavily. Picks a flake of paint loose. Resists the urge to fidget.

“I spy-”

“Oh, Christ, we’re not that bored already are we?” Rimmer whines, and Lister allows his head to loll to his right. It puts his face within inches of Rimmer’s cheek, and though it makes him go a little cross-eyed to do so he can clearly see that yes, Rimmer is that bored.

“Well, we’re trapped for the foreseeable future in a pile of rubble and girders in an abandoned derelict, with no comms and no hope of rescue until Krytes and Cat can be bothered to come lookin’,” Lister points out calmly. “We can play fortunately-unfortunately instead if you want, but I don’t think this is going to get less boring quickly.”

Rimmer sniffs and glowers at the ceiling of their weird rubble igloo. It had, of course, been heart-stoppingly terrifying for a while; Lister had smacked the door release idly with the side of his fist, the doors had opened, and he and Rimmer had entered, bickering all the while so enthusiastically that what had happened after that was still a mystery to Lister. The upshot, crucially, had been that the ceiling had fallen in in a shower of sparks and trailing wires and laid them both out flat under slabs of metal panelling, chunks of what looked like concrete, and a few girders for colour. One is neatly pinning Lister’s hips to the floor, there’s a large amount of concrete on his ankles, and Rimmer is buried in metal sheeting up to his sternum, but on the bright side they can both breathe and nothing seems to be broken. Not that Rimmer could break, anyway, being as he is entirely made of solid light.

This had not stopped Lister from being apocalyptically terrified for a good thirty seconds after impact.

“Is it rubble?” Rimmer asks at last, with a tone of deep dissatisfaction.

“I didn’t even tell you the first letter,” Lister says, trying not to grin at Rimmer.

Rimmer shifts his head to gaze, unimpressed, at Lister.

“It was, though, yeah.”

Rimmer looks as though he wants to laugh, and also to despair of him; it makes his face twitch like a ferret in a sack. Lister presses forward an inch to drop a kiss on the end of his nose, because that usually makes the twitching worse. “Menace,” Rimmer says, flinching back to glare, cross-eyed, down his nose at Lister. But, you know, affectionately. Lister beams. “I can’t believe we’re stuck here waiting for two mentally-incompetents to rescue us,” Rimmer sighs. He fidgets his shoulders, shifting the panelling, and winces.

“Stop moving, man,” Lister says in a voice which he hopes is calming.

It isn’t; Rimmer thrashes about a bit like he’s being electrocuted, which makes the whole rubble pile shake in a deeply worrying fashion. He does, however, manage to work his left arm free and shake it triumphantly in the air. “Dead arm,” he says in explanation - and then, very casually, so subtly that the motion occurs in neon with bells on, he rests the hand on top of Lister’s girder. Next to Lister’s fingers. And then Rimmer doesn’t look at his hand, the girder, or in Lister’s direction at all, so Lister takes the hint.

“Dead everything, mate,” he says helpfully, sliding his fingers under Rimmer’s palm and giving his hand a squeeze. Rimmer’s frame relaxes ever so slightly, as though that threatened slight rejection had worried him more than the whole mild peril of their situation. Neurotic bastard. “Speaking of,” Lister adds, rubbing his thumb over the back of Rimmer’s hand, “you don’t have to wait for Kryten and Cat. You could go softlight, wriggle on out, and go get ‘em.”

Rimmer’s hand tightens briefly on his before carefully relaxing. “No-o,” he says with forced casualness, “I’ll wait.”

Lister nods. “Very helpful. You just wait here to avoid the walk. Can’t have you tirin’ yourself out. If I starve to death, I want the lightbee every two weeks, alright?”

“I am not arranging a timeshare with our afterlife!” Rimmer objects sharply.

“You smegging well are,” Lister corrects cheerfully. “If you kill me through inaction, you owe me at least some of your time. You promised, remember-” he says smugly, pressing as close as he can until his nose is pressed into Rimmer’s cheekbone. “Spend the rest of our time together, forever-”

“Exactly,” Rimmer sputters, face turning a very impressive red at the reference to their little...agreement. “Together - which we won’t be, if only one of us exists at a time.”

“You’d better go an’ fetch us some rescue then, eh?” Lister says, smiling into Rimmer’s jaw to make him squirm. “Or else.”

He can feel the muscles in Rimmer’s face twitch slightly with the effort not to turn into Lister’s ministrations and give up on the argument - only that would mean losing said argument, and that usually requires more attention than Lister can give with his body pinned to the floor. By something that isn’t Rimmer, that is. “Ah, but you said we’d stay together,” Rimmer points out firmly, voice only ticking up half an octave when Lister starts kissing at the hinge of his jaw. “Death do us part, you said.”

Lister grins and picks up their joined hands, nudging them towards the small gap in the ceiling that a lightbee, and corresponding intangible human shape, could easily fit through. “An’ you’ve already kicked it, so off you pop,” he says brightly.

Rimmer sputters indignantly for a bit, but makes no move. After a moment, the grumbling resumes, and Lister can’t help a sigh. “Where are those two, anyway? Even they ought to have noticed by now-”

“Rimmer, mate you literally don’t need to be here,” Lister says, impatience bleeding into his tone as he pulls back slightly. He doesn’t miss how Rimmer shifts minutely into his space before reversing quickly.

“Well, I’m not going,” Rimmer says, fingers tightening around Lister’s.

He shakes his head and lies back, staring at the ceiling. “I’ve never met a more stubborn person in my life,” he says.

“You like it,” Rimmer retorts immediately.

“Do I?” he replies, voice tired and dry. But he rolls his head back to face Rimmer. He knows Rimmer better than anyone in the entire universe; of course he had caught the wheedling note in Rimmer’s voice, the flash of insecurity, the minute increase in the grip on his hand. And sure enough, Rimmer’s eyes are wide and slightly worried, and then his face turns quickly away, schooled into something snide. He wishes Rimmer wouldn’t do that; has no hope that he’ll ever stop. Lister picks up their joined hands and gently knocks their knuckles against the girder three times. “Well, it’s still annoying,” he says eventually. “But as long as I don’t starve here, I’d still rather have you with me than not. So.”

Rimmer waves a hand idly. “Eat your own leg, or something.”

Lister gives him a thumbs-up. “Will do.”

They lie quietly for a while, listening to the rubble creak and groan, and to a mysterious dripping sound which, every third drop, fizzes with a decidedly electrical sound. There’s a lump of something digging into his spine, and his foot is rapidly going numb, but Rimmer’s hand is pleasantly warm and solid in his own, his breathing regular and steady in the half-light, and it is - god help his standards for living - not half bad. Lister is, despite himself, quite glad that Rimmer is more stubborn than a bull-headed pig when he wants to be.

He’s glad, too, to be something Rimmer gets so stubborn over.

He is quite bored, though.

“I spy-” he begins again.

“It’s girder this time, I know it,” Rimmer says quickly. “I am not playing this with you.” Lister closes his mouth. “It was panel, actually - and look, what do you want to do? Arguing didn’t take up as much time as I had hoped-”

“You picked a fight to pass the time?!”

“Yeah, only, it was a really rubbish argument. Unfortunately.”

“Well,” Rimmer says, sounding as self-important as a man can when being crushed by sheets of metal, “fortunately, we love each other far too well to ever argue.”

“Unfortunately,” Lister says, grinning at the barefaced lie, “no-one with an IQ over seven would believe that.”

“Fortunately, I know my audience,” Rimmer says smugly, eyes dancing and smile so cheerfully obnoxious that Lister has to laugh, he just has to, not least for the way it makes Rimmer’s whole face soften into something gentler, and more fond.

He squeezes Rimmer’s hand and feels it squeeze back. “Unfortunately, you’re stuck with him,” he murmurs, eyes dropping helplessly to Rimmer’s lips.

Rimmer smiles, small and genuine. “I’ll survive,” he says.

[tobesolonely]

muse II

A/n: here is the second part of muse!! i had a lot of trouble w the direction i wanted to take this in so pleaseee be gentle with me🥺also big thank you to @harryysstyless​ and @froggystyles​ for all the help <3 

photographer oc x harry styles

please let me know your thoughts on miss aminah, iman, serena, and harry!

my ko-fi! thank you :)

It had been four days since your encounter with Harry in Malibu. You still haven't texted him.

It’s not like you were scared of him. He was a very nice guy, he proved that to you in the short amount of time you spent with him. Immediately. However, you had no idea how to start the conversation. Should you just text him and say, ‘hey!’? Has too much time passed? What if he wasn’t even interested in talking to you anymore? 

Since your beach day with Harry, your roommates would often find you with your phone clutched tightly in your hands as you contemplated for the thousandth time whether you should just suck it up and text him, or leave him be.

“Aminah, he gave you his number and not his manager’s for a reason,” Iman told you, starting to grow a bit annoyed with all your back and forth. “Do you know how many people would kill to be in your position?”

“Yeah,” Serena speaks up. “If you don’t text him then shit, give me his number and I will.”

“What would I even say?” Your mind is beginning to race as you think about all how texting him could go wrong. “I bet he has so many people that text him in the timespan of a day. He probably won’t even see it.”

“You’ll never know unless you do it, will you?” Iman asks. “You know what, Mina? Give me your phone.”

“Iman––”

“Give.”

The stern tone of Iman’s voice tells you she’s not playing around anymore, so you give her your phone (albeit, very reluctantly). She quickly unlocks it and you move closer to her from your position on the couch, straining your neck to see exactly what she was texting Harry. Her thumbs hover over the keyboard for all of two seconds before she quickly types something and presses the little blue up arrow, not giving you much of a chance to tell her not to. She wordlessly places your phone back in your hand.

You let out an audible sigh of relief when you said the only thing she said was, ‘Hey! It’s Aminah :)’ 

“What did she say?” Serena asks from her position across the room. “Was it bad?”

“She just said hey. I don’t know why I’m freaking out so much,” you confess, turning your phone face-down, setting it on the coffee table. “What if it is his manager and he just put it under his name to make it easier?”

“Why are you like this?” Iman asks. “Is Harry not allowed to think you’re cute? It sounds like you're self-sabotaging.” Serena nods in agreement.

“Where did you get him thinking I’m cute from?” You turn to face Iman fully. She lets out an obnoxious scoff.

“Dude, did you see how interested he was in you at the beach? The way he looked at you?”

“How about how he hung back and walked with you when Iman and I were walking way ahead? Are you kidding, Meens? I don’t believe you’re that oblivious.” Serena adds.

You feel your body heating up. “He was probably just interested because I approached him first. It could’ve been any one of us, yanno.”

Iman rolls her eyes. “He had the opportunity to have any one of us and he gave you his number! Stop acting like people aren’t allowed to find you pretty. You’re a gorgeous, talented Black woman and anyone, celebrity or not, would be lucky to have you!”

“One hundred percent, Aminah,” Serena agrees.

“You guys are just saying that because you’re my friends.”

“Yeah, and friends don’t lie to each other. I’m being so serious-–”

The chime of your text tone interrupts the tangent Iman was about to go off on. Your gaze quickly falls to your phone and then back up to your friends, eyes wide in shock.

“He answered so quickly!” Serena exclaims giddily. “Open it!”

“Hell no,” you say with a shake of your head. “I have my read receipts on, that’ll make me look so desperate if I open it right away!”

“Aminah, stop playing hard to get and just open it,” Serena insists, getting up from her seated position across the room. You quickly reach out and grab your phone off the coffee table before she can get to it first.

“Fine,” you mutter under your breath. “I’ll open it. But I’m going to be the one doing all the talking. Swear I’ll change my password if you guys keep thinking it’s okay to just grab my phone.” You wait for Serena and Iman to promise to leave your phone alone before taking a deep breath and flipping it face-up.

‘Hey Aminah, glad to hear from you.’

The typing bubble pops up immediately after opening the message and before you can exit out, another one comes through.

‘Have a chance to look over those pictures? I’d love to meet up for lunch or something and take a look at them with you.’

“He just asked me to lunch?”

“Give me your phone,” Iman demands, trying to reach for it. You hold it away from her, shaking your head.

“All he asked was if I wanted to meet up for lunch so he could look at the pictures. Like I said, being a photographer is my only advantage here,” you can tell your friends are fighting the urge to roll their eyes at you again.

“You’re gonna say yes, right?” Serena asks. “I mean, why would you say no?”

“There are so many reasons why I would say no,” you reply, staring back down at your screen. “What if it doesn’t go well?”

“Then at least you can say you tried and you won’t spend forever wondering, ‘What if?’” Iman quietly hums in agreement with Serena.

“I think you’ll regret it more if you don’t go than if you do,” Iman says, nodding her head at your phone. “We’re not gonna force you to meet up with him–– but I’m already picking out an outfit for you to wear in my head.”

“You know what? You guys are right,” you look down at your phone which was locked from inactivity. “I’m just gonna do it.” With slightly shaking hands, you text Harry back as your roommates watch over your shoulder:

‘That sounds great! Pick a time and a place and I’m there :)’

Not a lot of things made you nervous. You weren’t nervous when you packed up everything you owned and moved across the country to a city you’d never been to before. You weren’t nervous moving into an apartment with two girls you’d never met in your life. However, you felt like your heart was about to beat out of your chest sitting in the restaurant waiting for Harry.

He’d suggested a place you’d never been to before— a Cuban/Mexican fusion place that he swore had the best fish tacos. You had to beg Iman to drive you to Malibu. She reluctantly took you after you reminded her that she was the reason you were going on this “date” in the first place. Out of fear of being late and keeping Harry waiting, you were painfully early. Your waiter had to have come up to the small table you were sat at in the corner at least three times to see if you were ready to order.

When Harry walked in, he quickly scanned the restaurant before his eyes landed on yours. He pushes his sunglasses atop his head as he makes his way over to you.

“Aminah,” he says cheerily once he’s almost to you. “Been here long? I didn’t mean to keep y’waitin’.” He glances down at his watch, a troubled expression on his face.

“Oh no, you’re fine,” you respond. “I’m just a little early. My roommate dropped me off early because she had to go home and get ready for work.”

“That was nice of her,” he smiles. “So, how about those pictures, hmm?”

You nod, reaching next to you to grab your laptop from its case. “I didn’t do much to them, honestly. Just messed around with the exposure a little bit. They’re nothing special.” You felt the need to create a disclaimer before showing Harry your work. He waves his hand, dismissing your insecurities.

“I have a feeling they came out amazing. You’re incredibly talented,” he says. You raise an eyebrow at him and he immediately turns red, shifting his gaze down.

“How do you know I’m talented if I haven’t shown you anything yet?”

Harry’s quiet for a second before clearing his throat. “I may have… searched you up?”

You can’t help yourself. You throw your head back in the middle of the restaurant, letting out a loud laugh. “You’re serious? You searched me up?”

“Heyyyyy,” he drawls, running his fingers through his hair. “Are you laughin’ at me, Aminah?”

“I just find it a little funny that an actual superstar is Googling me,” you explain. You were trying to resist the urge to burst out laughing again because you could tell he was a little embarrassed.

“Yeah, come off it,” he mutters, a small smile filling his face. “Lemme see those pictures.”

You give Harry a coy smile before opening up your laptop and connecting it to your hotspot. You quickly navigate to the folder you created just for the pictures you took of Harry (with a few of Iman and Serena sprinkled in so he wouldn’t find it weird).

“Like I said, I’m sure you’ve seen better,” you mumble, double-clicking the folder. You turn to look at him as it enlarges on your screen, making the contents of it known. He licks his lip and leans back slightly, squinting his eyes.

“Can y’make that one a bit bigger?” he questions, pointing to a picture of himself. You open up a picture of Harry with his back facing the water, arms spread wide and head pointed up towards the sky. “Quite like how I look in this one.”

“Really?” you give him a quizzical look. “This one was one of my least favorites.”

“Oi,” Harry pouts and places his hand over his chest, feigning offense. “I don’t think I look that bad, Aminah.”

“That’s not what I meant!” you exclaim. Some people turn to look at the two of you and you throw your hand over your mouth, feeling your body heat up. “That’s not what I meant. I just meant the lighting was terrible.”

Harry lightly chuckles. “‘M messin’ with you, Aminah. I think it’s a lovely photo. Would probably look better if I wasn’t in it messin’ up your shot but we’re working with what we have, huh?”

“What do you mean? You look amazing,” you feel the need to reassure Harry even though you’re sure he’d be just fine if he didn’t hear it from you.

“Thank you, Aminah,” he clears his throat and you notice that the tip of his ears is starting to grow red again. “Did you order already? ‘M tellin’ you, those fish tacos are no joke.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Yeah, not a fan of seafood.”

“Really? You seemed excited when I mentioned the tacos when we were texting about where to go the other day! You said ‘sounds good’ with exclamation marks,” he informs you, making eye contact with the waiter who kept checking on you earlier and politely waving him over. As soon as he gets to the table you can tell he knows who Harry is and he looks at you, confusion on his face.

“Can we get two waters, please? Are you ready to order, Aminah?”

“Yeah, can I just get the grilled veggie tacos?” you ask the waiter politely, closing your menu. “Oh, and a side of the plantains too.” He nods and scribbles down your order, turning to Harry.

“For you, Mr. Styles?”

Harry lets out a breathy chuckle. “Uh, I usually go with your guys’ fish tacos–– they’re amazing, by the way…,” he trails off, looking down at the menu. “You know what? I’ll have what she’s havin’.”

The waiter grabs your menus and gives you both a polite smile, telling you he’d be right back with your drinks.

“Does that happen a lot?”

“What’s that?” Harry asks, eyes re-trained on your laptop.

“The ‘Mr. Styles’ thing?”

He looks away from the screen and at you, cracking a small smile. “Not as often as you’d think. Can you make that one bigger?” Harry points a ringed finger to another picture of him. This time he’s sitting on his brightly colored beach towel, leaning back on his hands to support his body weight.

You wordlessly comply, watching the photograph flood the screen as you double-click it. “I like this one the most I think.” You tell him.

“Why’s tha’? Is it cause my face isn’t in it?”

“Stop it!” you whisper-shout, groaning in embarrassment. “That’s not what I meant! I just like how the ocean is out of focus but you’re in focus.”

“Jus’ givin’ you a hard time again, Aminah,” he says with a laugh. “I like this one a lot too.”

You continue like this for what has to be at least two hours, only stopping your photograph inspection briefly when your food comes. You and Harry don’t stop conversing once–– things just flowed so easily with him. You didn’t want the afternoon to end.

“I can pay for my own tacos,” you tell him with a laugh, digging in your bag for your wallet. “They weren’t that expensive.”

“Let me,” he insists, digging in his pocket for his wallet. “‘M the one that insisted we eat here and had ya come all the way from Downtown. It’s the least I can do.”

“Oh shit,” you say quietly, palming your forehead. “I totally forgot I was supposed to request an Uber to get back home. Do you know how much that would cost? I don’t usually use things like this.”

“An Uber?” Harry has a puzzled expression on his face. “I don’t even know if there’s anyone that would be willing to drive from Malibu to Downtown and if they are, it can’t be cheap…”

“I figured it wouldn’t be. It’s just kinda my only option because both of my roommates are at work, so––”

“I could take you home if you’d like?”

“I couldn’t ask you––”

“No, it’s not a problem. If I knew it would be such a pain for you to get home, I definitely would’ve suggested somethin’ closer to you,'' he gives you a dimpled grin. “No worries, Aminah. At least I’ll know for next time.” You smile, looking down at your lap.

“Next time?”

“I mean- well- I- yeah? I had a great time, that’s only if you want to, of course,” he rubs the back of his neck, a sheepish look on his face. “S’also fine if you never wanna see me again. Jus’ tell me to piss off.”

“Do I have the Mr. Styles tripping over his words?” you tease, flashing him a cheeky smile. Harry’s face immediately turns red again.

“Tease me all you want,” he mumbles, signing the receipt the waiter brings back to him. He digs in his wallet and tosses a couple of bills on the table for a tip and you’re not surprised to see they’re large ones. “Do y’wanna get out of here? Someone tipped off the paps.”

“How do you know?”

“That guy sittin’ across the room from us has been sneaking pictures for at least the last twenty minutes.” Harry is very calm when he says this, taking a sip of his water. Your eyes go wide.

“Twenty minutes? Dude, why didn’t you say anything earlier?” you feel yourself growing flustered as you put your laptop back in its case, shoving it in your tote bag.

“Because dude,” Harry mocks, humor lacing his voice. “I didn’t want you to freak out like you’re doin’ right now. It’s no big deal Aminah, I promise. Let’s just get goin’?” Harry’s tone is calm yet firm, but it helps you to relax. If he wasn’t worried about paparazzi seeing you with him, why should you be?

He instructs for you to follow him and to keep your head down, warning you there may be people waiting outside. He thanks the hostess on his way out, grabbing a small handful of mints in the process. Once out the doors you hear a few clicks and shutters of cameras but per Harry’s advice, you keep your head down. Your eyes are trained on his beat-up Vans are you focus on not tripping over your own feet and embarrassing yourself in front of him and a few paparazzi.

“Keep your head down until we’re outta here,” he mutters, opening the passenger door for you. Even when he slams the door shut, you can still hear cameras and feel eyes on you. He gets in the car a few seconds later and immediately starts it, wordlessly looking behind him to make sure it’s clear for him to back out. Once he’s out of the lot you hear him let out an audible sigh of relief. “All good for you to stretch your neck now.” You look up at him, rolling your neck.

“Was worried I was gonna get stuck like that,” you joke. “You handled that really well. I’m impressed.”

“Eh,” he sounds nonchalant. “Been doin’ this for ten years. ‘M used to it. Hats off to you though, Aminah. If I didn’t know any better I would say you’ve dealt with paparazzi before.” You know he’s joking but you still feel your head growing big from the compliment.

“I guess I just don’t wanna see pictures of me all over Twitter later today,” you respond, shrugging your shoulders. “That would be kinda weird.”

Harry lets out a sarcastic laugh. “Trust me, you’ll be seeing yourself later. Not the worst thing fo’ me, though. At least I’m getting photographed next to a beautiful woman.” You glance at him out of the corner of your eye and can see his deep dimples.

“You’re just being nice.” You answer after a moment of silence. Harry hums in response.

“It’s just the truth,” he pauses. “What music do y’like to listen to?”

“I’ll listen to anything. I don’t really have a preference.”

“Do you listen to my music?” Harry diverts his eyes away from the road to look at you. He has an expression on his face that you can’t quite read.

“Against my will, yeah. Watermelon Sugar and Adore You are on everytime I turn on KIIS FM, so…”

“Aminah, you love to hurt me don’t you? You minx,” Harry laughs, shaking his head. “Those songs do get a lot of radio play though, don’t they?”

“I’m joking, Harry! I do listen to your music,” you feel a little embarrassed admitting that because you didn’t want him to think you were like, obsessed, with him. “My roommate Serena is a big fan so I’m always hearing your music around our apartment.”

Harry beams at this. “Well, that’s lovely. I’ll have to remember that when it’s time for my LA shows.”

Los Angeles traffic did as Los Angeles traffic does, and you were stuck in the car for over an hour.

By the time Harry was turning onto your street to drop you off, you were starting to grow anxious. You knew the socially acceptable thing to do when someone drove you around places was offer them gas money, but was Harry expecting that? Would it be rude if you didn’t? Would it be weird if you did?

“It’s coming up on the left,” you say quietly, nodding your head in the direction of your complex. Harry nods and slows down his car, pulling over to the side. He puts his car in park and unbuckles his seatbelt, turning to face you.

“I had a great time today, Aminah. Sorry I had you meet me so far away.” he apologizes.

“It’s no problem,” you assure him. “That place was really good! I’m glad you introduced it to me. I’ll have to go back with my roommates soon.”

“I bet they’ll like it,” he drums his fingertips against the steering wheel. “Can I walk you to your door?”

“You don’t have to, Harry,” you point. “It’s right there, super close. Only if you want to.”

“I want to.”

You unbuckle your seatbelt. “Then sure.”

Harry quickly gets out of the car and runs around to your side, opening your door before you can even gather up your bag. He cautions you to watch your step as you get out of the car and you step out, giving him a small smile. The hot sun beats down on the back of your neck and the top of your head, making you feel even warmer than you were already feeling from the fact that Harry wanted to walk you to your door. He comments on how your apartment isn’t even that far from Malibu but the traffic makes it feel like it’s a continent away, and you nod in agreement.

“Oh, totally,” you reply. “I thought New York traffic was horrible but at least it was really easy to walk everywhere. Everything’s so spread out here.” You abruptly stop walking as you approach the door of your apartment.

“You weren’t kidding,” he laughs. “Your apartment was close by.”

“Yeah…,” you shift from foot to foot, slightly uncomfortable. “I don’t really know the etiquette for this but like, can I offer you some gas money or anything? I just feel bad that you had to go so out of your way.”

“Oh none of that, Aminah,” he has an amused look on his face. “Come on, now. ‘M more than happy to help.”

You smile. “I figured you would say no but I still thought I should ask.” You tuck a flyaway curl behind your ear and look away. Harry clears his throat, looking down.

“Well, I guess I’ll get goin’,” he looks back up at you. “I’ll see you another time then? Hopefully soon?”

“I’d like that,” you respond. “Thank you again for lunch and everything, Harry.”

Harry tells you again that it was his pleasure. As you turn to walk the few steps to your door, he calls out your name. You quickly turn around, eyebrow quirked.

“Do y’think you can send me those photographs you took? I think I look bloody fantastic”

[scriptaed]

bygones of the sun. 07 (m)

genre: angst/fluff/smut || dance captain!hoseok, bad boy!au, uni!au

pairing: reader x hoseok;

length: 6.7k;

synopsis: Jung Hoseok was once the sweetheart of the school, the dance captain whom every girl, including you, can’t help but fall head over heels for. But like the force of the ever-glowing sun, everything that rises must also set. A year of inactivity later and he’s now the school’s resident bad boy. You’re a firm believer of allowing the past be the past, and yet you can’t help but wonder where the risen sun has gone into hiding—because perhaps its shadows have out-shined its own radiance.

Ten bucks for club dues and fifteen bucks for transportation plus utility fees and you’d think boot camps really are as luxurious and happy-go-lucky as movies paint them out to be. Unfortunately for you and your recently trance filled state, confronting the face of reality only comes colliding into you just a couple of weeks since you last saw him. Despite the malicious side effects of reading into rumors, people really aren’t lying when they say the dance club’s boot camp is synonymous to a “living hell disguised as a getaway paradise by scheming club officers.” While you aren’t attending as an official member of the team, and therefore forfeiting the rights to proclaim the overbearing stress and practices that are soon to come, there are certain other issues weighing your mind.

First off, paying twenty five bucks just to see this one despicably sly and retired dancer resume his role as the captain is all too pricey of a fee, because even you're not sure why you’ve invested so much time and effort into someone who only sees you as his next victim of his black book filled with female contacts. You thought you had gotten over him, but the mere fact that you’re attending despite claiming to be “dragged into this” is a direct opposition of such a foolish belief, or better yet, desire. But such questions become trivial when the first obstacle you face of the four days long journey ahead of you is simply tossing two overly stuffed duffel bags into the luggage compartment of the towering, chic black and white charter bus.

Struggling to weave your way through the bustling crowds of fellow trip attendees, consisting of mainly guys and specks of girls, you puff in a deep breath before picking up one bag on each hand and hustling through with all your might and diminishing courtesy. The task proves to be worse in terms of pleasantness than labor, for squatting down and searching for the smallest of a few square feet of free space while squinting your eyes against the smoke of hot, steaming gas and water vapor released from the roaring engine.

“Do you need help?”

The familiar honey-like base yet raspy edge to his voice strikes a sense of panic against your thumping chest. Is this a rise of excitement or is this a fight-or-flight defense mechanism against the threat before you?

Hesitantly turning around, you crane your neck to peer up at the one and only boy towering over you from above, an effort made in vain as all you manage to catch sight of is the black silhouette of his figure and the smug signature look of his all underneath the blinding sunlight his head so conveniently blocks.

“Or are you going to ogle and drool all over me while standing in everyone’s way?” Hoseok chortles. Your eyes follow his every move, too taken aback to move or respond. It’s been at least two weeks since you had last seen him and two weeks since… that had happened. Your lips burn and your first immediate response is to smack your hands right over them as if to cover the beet red of your cheeks and lips… or largely to prevent future advances. Hoseok only scoffs in response, smirking and squatting midway to strategically whisper into your ears, “we have lots of time to do that in the camp later, if you so want.”

“Excuse me?” you lean back as far as you can and gape, but he only squats down to your level before grabbing the bags of luggage from your hand.

“Don’t worry, I got this. After going through this entire process at least six times by now, you just gotta learn to…” his words are cut off by huffs as he forcefully pushes and tosses and squeezes bags further into the compartment before tossing his and your own along with them. “There,” he brushes his hands, “I don’t know what Jimin has been teaching them, but the new recruits seem to be awfully spoiled taking up so much space. This is boot camp, not vacation.”

“Thanks,” you say after chuckling.

“Is your gratitude exchangeable?” he asks, turning to cock his head to the side and revealing the structure of his jawline; and as much as you’d like to deny it, it takes every ounce of sheer willpower not to stare at him in awe.

“For what?” you’re barely able to utter. Hoseok stares at you in silence, dark eyes eating and drinking you up with each passing second, and that’s all you need to get the hint. The knot in your throat catches your silent gasp as you avert your gaze to the ground, cheeks burning, heart skipping, and lips throbbing. “I don’t know what you’re implying.”

“Oh, my bad, I forgot. Can’t corrupt my prude little princess just yet,” he muses, and you can just feel his sultry gaze piercing straight through your temple as he flashes you his charming damn crooked grin. Hoseok cocks his head in the direction behind the crowds of incoming baggage bearers, “go on. Your friends are waiting for you. I gotta help out here.”

“You sure you don't need any help?” you offer, standing upright to brush the invisible dirt off your lap.

Hoseok glances up at you and scoffs with the most teasing smirk possible. “Are you implying you're willing to help me? I'm thankful for the offer, your Grace, but I don't think standing there and checking me out is going to do us much good,” he laughs and throws a quick glimpse over at your friends with a lopsided smile. “I know I said this is camp and all, but you should at least have some fun now before it's too late.”

“...okay,” you hesitantly mumble, giving him a small wave and stumbling through the crowd once again to join your friends spectating from afar.

“What took you so long?” Junghwa ponders aloud, a small pout resting on her bottom lip as her foot impatiently taps against the floor.

“Sorry, the luggage compartment was almost full—”

“—wait, wait, wait, Y/N… was that Hoseok who helped you with your luggage over there?” Hani interjects with wide eyes, going on her tiptoes to confirm the back figure of said man just a few strides ahead. Not even a split second after, Junghwa’s eyes pop and the both of them turn in sync to stare at you with gaping mouths.

“No way,” Junghwa drawls. “Jung Hoseok? The ex dance captain? Your long time crush—”

“—keep your voice down,” you hiss before timidly glancing at the ground and twiddling your thumbs. “...maybe.”

“I can’t believe you’re actually doing this, Y/N,” Hani utters, the drop of her jaw and the void in her voice conveying just how shocked she is from your sudden course of actions.

“I know right,” Junghwa jumps in, hooking her arms around Hani’s crossed ones. “I mean, dance camp? Basically a trip? With Hoseok?”

“It’s not only with Hoseok,” you articulate. “There’s at least twenty other people going with us.”

“Uhuh, right, but you won’t be paying attention to any of them except Hoseok, so it’s basically the same thing. How did you even manage to convince him to return?” Junghwa exasperates, a series of blabbering shortly follows before you hurriedly clasp your hand over her running mouth to muffle her words.

A few seconds of incoherent mumbling goes by before Hani taps you on the shoulder and chuckles, “okay, Y/N, any second longer and she’s going to faint.”

As much as most normal, rational human beings would opt for breathing through the nose than the mouth in situations like this, whether out of instincts or simple common sense, it’s also painfully obvious that Junghwa is unlike that of any other. All that’s on Junghwa’s head at the moment is getting her thoughts said and heard, and not even her very own being can top that priority. So pressing your lips, you figure Hani’s right—like always—and the well being of your best friend is more important than answering a few questions. Reluctantly and ever so slowly, you retract your hands from her lips, the absence of her voice’s vibration immediately leaving your hand empty of sensation.

The second your hands unclasp from her mouth, thus letting her words loose, Junghwa desperately gasps for air before, unsurprisingly, blurting out yet again in an all too ear-spitting manner, “or is he returning because of you? Did you make some sort of deal with him?! Y/N, why didn’t you tell us? You need to tell us—”

“—shh,” you hiss, immediately and strategically placing your middle finger against your lips to hush her back into silence. Eyes wide and alert, you hastily glimpse around to check for any possible bystanders dropping in on your conversation. When all coast is clear, everyone too busy chatting away with their friends and loading their additional luggage onto the bus, you shoot a death stare straight at your friend who gulps in terror. “Are you trying to turn this trip into hell before it even starts? I know it might come as a surprise to you, but I don’t want anyone spreading rumors about Hoseok and I!”

“I know,” Junghwa pouts and grabs ahold of your hand only to sway it side to side, as if to win you over with pity. “I’m sorry… I won’t do it again. I promise!”

“That’s what you said last time.”

“I swear I’m serious! Curiosity just got the best of me this time around,” Junghwa cheekily smiles. “If someone happens to hear us, I’ll treat you out for dinner. Better yet, I’ll confess to Jimin or anyone you want and make a fool of myself, yeah? Mm?”

“You don’t even like Jimin!” you refute, appalled by her lackluster offer.

“Oh, you know how she is, Y/N,” Hani laughs, rolling her eyes. “At least no one has ever really paid attention to her yelling. Plus, I really am curious as to why he’s back. How did you convince him to join today? I thought he always stayed at least a mile’s distance from anything related to dance.”

A hard thump hammers against your chest when the answer to her question echoes in your mind and rests on the tips of your tongue. A kiss. You exchanged his attendance this morning for a kiss; but there’s no way you’re going tell your friends something as embarrassing as that, especially seeing how they had taken the news of your previous dates with Hoseok. However, judging by how fervently your lips burn of the apparition of his soft lips pressed up against them, you convince yourself you’ve already given the answer away.

“Hey, we’re just about done here,” a familiar voice melts in your left ear like honey as a heavy arm swings over your shoulder and pulls you into his side. You glance up to find Hoseok raising a brow at your two friends, “oh, I’m sorry, but I don’t quite seem to recognize…”

His words trail off, and for some reason you think you can see a flash of the old dance captain resuming his courteous, welcoming ways; hence, unbeknownst to you, a smile gradually stretches across your lips. While you’re stuck in your reverie, Junghwa and Hani’s head snap towards each other, eyes widening and words failing to leave their gaping mouths as looks of admiration and awe oozes from the glistening windows to their souls. The ogling eyes of theirs nearly evokes a snort from the back of your throat, because finally, finally they can first-handedly witness the melting charms of Hoseok and actually understand the reasonings behind your recent irrational actions. But then their eyes dart to you once again, lips formulating silent threats and teeth gritting like a desperate call for your help.

As much as you’d like to blame your lack of a response to your friends’ plees solely on your short-lived trance of catching the returning glimpse of your long-time crush, a part of you just knows the truth lies in the satisfaction of observing the petrified look on your friends’ faces. Is this the look you had plastered all over your face when they made fun of you for your crush on Hoseok? Was this the mirror image of your state of panic when Junghwa nearly exposes your “relationship” with Hoseok to the entire class? Just recalling the pain your friends had put you through endorses you to sit back and relax as you watch karma do its work.

“...new recruits?” Hoseok chirps after a few seconds of silence, quirking a brow and flashing a clueless, lopsided grin. “Did Jimin actually manage to acquire new members while I was gone?”

“Actually no,” Hani quickly blurts, shaking her head violently, “we’re not a part of the club.”

“Oh?” Hoseok cocks his head, glimpsing at you in confusion before returning his eyes to Hani when you only stand in silent amusement. “Sorry, my bad. So what are you two lovely ladies doing here then?”

Did he just call them lovely? In front of you? With his arm wrapped around you and his recently numerous flirtatious advances on you? Even though you have no idea why you’re so irked in the first place, there’s something about his smooth, charismatic ways that tugs at your heartstrings in the rather painful manner for once.

Unbeknownst to you, a twitch of your face is evident enough to your friends and Hoseok for them to jolt in place, petrified over whatever fiery hazard scorches from within the vicinity of your glare. And unlike your friends who take a step back and glimpse at each other for help, the boy beside you only pulls you in even tighter until your head has nowhere to rest but against the calm, warm beats of his chest.

“Uh,” Junghwa utters, eyes popping when she notices Hoseok’s firming embrace.

“We’re just sending Y/N off,” Hani finishes her friend’s sentence and averts her panicked gaze back to you as you narrow your eyes at the audacity of Hoseok.

“Well that’s nice of you two. So that’s where Y/N gets it from,” he muses before continuing, “are you sure you two don’t wanna join? I’m sure we have enough space left to accommodate for you two.”

“Oh no, we couldn’t—

“—well actually, we wanted to but Y/N forced us not to because she was ‘embarrassed’ or something—ow!” Hani nudges her elbow straight into Junghwa before she can mutter another word.

Hoseok turns his head at you with warmth radiating from his dark chocolate orbs and the most suggestive of smirks tugging on the corner of his lips, “and what does that mean, Y/N?”

You freeze. You don’t know why or how or when, but for some reason your body’s immediate response to his gaze locking with yours is to drop everything and freeze. Heart panicking, hammering, and nearly stopping, you completely forget your friends are watching just a few feet away—

“—we didn’t bring any money for club dues and trip fees,” Hani quickly comes to the rescue, shooting you a subtle smile, and for once, you’re actually glad that your friends are here to support you in the wake of Hoseok’s impact.

“Oh, that’s fine. Any friend of Y/N’s is welcome with or without dues. I’d rather gain two new recruits than lose the opportunity to because of a few bucks or so. Plus, our club has more than enough funds to cover your fees for now,” he quips, cleverly interjecting before Hani can provide a rebuttal, “you don’t really think I’m letting you off the hook, do you? Nah, what kind of a captain would I be if I did that? You can pay me back afterwards.”

“That’s very kind of you, but…”

“...or your friend here can pay for you,” Hoseok smiles smugly, pointing his thumb to the side and at you. Traumatizing your lips and paying twenty five bucks to humiliate yourself for the sole sake of potentially watching Hoseok dance again were already too high of stakes to pay in the first place, so all you can do in response to his absurd suggestion is gawk at him in disapproval.

“She’s the last person who would do that,” Junghwa grumbles.

Hani nudges Junghwa once again, “I’m sure Y/N is going to have lots of fun at camp… although I do worry if she’s going to be alone—”

“—I’ll be fine—”

“—don’t worry, she’s in good hands,” Hoseok cuts in with a wide grin, arm firmly gripping your right shoulder and pulling you even closer into him.

“...what do you think you’re doing?” you finally mutter through gritted teeth. Your friends hesitantly exchange and dart glances between the two of you as they watch the narrowing of your death stare.

“What? This?” he pats his hands on the side of your arm and pulls you in once again, cocking a brow at you to feign innocence. “You didn’t seem to mind skinship last week? Or are you shy about PDA?”

Your jaw slacks open in sync with your friends. Did he really just say that? In front of your friends? So much for having fun and saving the embarrassment for later on in the trip.

“I don’t know what you’re saying…” you mutter, snaking your hand behind his back and tugging on his shirt to signal for him to stop… which he doesn’t.

“Oh c’mon, you couldn’t have forgotten already, Y/N!” Hoseok chimes, and his grin grows wider and wider as he watches your cheeks burn a brighter shade of red by the second. He cocks his head and begins listing the events of that night which still burns so fervently in the back of your mind, “fridge… bet… tabletop… ki...tchen.”

The second to last syllable nearly evokes a heart attack from your already weak condition, thousands of needles piercing straight through your chest as you glimpse at your friends; luckily for you, it seems like they haven’t caught onto anything yet, for they’ve never worn a more confused look than they are now.

Hoseok only grins in amusement before proceeding to his grand finale, “ki—hey!”

The smug look on his face is wiped and replaced by utter shock. He gawks at you with eyes wide and mouth open the second his brain registers the fact that you had just pinched him as hard as you could from the back.

“...kinda have to go help out Jimin and the others. Yeah, that’s what I meant to say,” Hoseok chuckles after a few seconds of bewilderment, turning to flash one last smile at your friends and waving them goodbye. “I’m sorry but I don’t believe I ever got your names…?”

Your two friends just stand there in what you’re unsure to make out as either fright for the scene that just played before them or in awe over the radiant sight of his killer smile—or perhaps, a mix of both. Hani’s slouched shoulders suddenly straighten upright the second she snaps back into reality and checks up on her friend, whom had failed to escape her trance. She stutters, “H-Hani, I’m Hani, a-and this is Junghwa.”

“Right. It was nice meeting you, Hani and Junghwa. I promise you I’ll look over Y/N, even if she refuses to accept my help and assaults me with acts of violence. And remember, I know it might be boring without me as the captain, but it’s never too late to join the club,” he sing-songs, voice velvety and soothing like always but his last statement leaves you frowning even more so than the former.

He’s resuming his role as the dance captain, and yet at the same time he’s rejecting the permanence of such a task and even foreseeing his absence in the near future. You know you’ve been too greedy and too needy for the fulfillment of your dreams, but somehow along the way you had lost sight of reality. While the past Hoseok brought you into cloud nine where things like stress and school were of trivial matters, the present Hoseok slams you straight back into reality where not everything always goes your way.

Only a comforting, firm pat against your right shoulder is enough to bring you out of your daze as you glance up to find Hoseok making his way to the bus with his front half turned towards you. “I know it’s hard to contain your excitement, but at least try to spend a few more minutes with your friends, Y/N. Don’t take too long though, or even I’ll have to leave you behind,” he quips, calling out to you before winking and biting his lips—as if trying to hint at something, no, you just know he’s hinting at that very thing which still doesn’t fail to flood heat into your cheeks—and turning his back on you to jog up the steps, disappearing behind the black tinted windows of the bus.

“I hate the living hell out of him. I hate the living hell out of him. I hate the living hell out of him,” you repeat, reminding yourself once again of the treacherous bet you had so regrettably made. Sighing, you turn to face your friends once again only to jump in place out of shock when your friends glare at you with the most dead eyes and stern frowns.

“Girl, you have a lot to explain when you get back,” Junghwa crosses her arms.

“...yeah, I know,” you timidly laugh, reclining as you scratched the back of your head when Junghwa continues to narrow her eyes at you for your lack of an explanation.

“That guy’s dangerous. I knew he was good looking, but wow, in person?” Hani shakes her head. “He knows his ways with words. Charming. Too charming. You better be careful, Y/N.”

“...yeah, don’t worry. I’m not a fool. I might’ve liked him before, but there’s no way I still do with him being like that now,” you mutter, and out of the blue, your only source of transportation roars in place behind you as if to remind you of the quickly approaching departure time. “Okay, I really have to go now.”

Despite how hard Junghwa had been staring at you, she does a complete 180 turn when she pounces on you along with Hani, “I’ll miss you so much. Don’t go! Don’t leave me for a man! But if you have to, at least tell us what happens!”

“Make sure to call us every night, okay?” Hani says before quickly adding, “and be careful! Don’t ever leave yourself alone with a boy like Hoseok!”

“Alright, alright,” you chuckle, words muffled as they nearly choke you in the bear hug. After what seems like eternity, you finally retract yourself from your nearly sobbing friends and wave them one last goodbye before running up the steps into the bus and away from the partially cloudy forecast of the morning.

Now the real torture begins; it's like highschool all over again—finding an empty seat without looking like a longer or bring too out of place.

“Sorry, this seat is reserved for someone,” you hear someone say in the deepest yet softest of tones.

Glancing over to the very back of the bus where the courteous voice had struck you as familiar, you find a girl apologizing to Hoseok before scampering forward to the seat next to whom you presume to be her friend. Word must've gotten out that the Jung Hoseok was making his return to dance with this camping trip, because whether for the better or worse, it doesn't take very long for the next girl to approach him.

“Oh my God, I can't believe you're actually back! I've always loved watching you practice!” the petite girl exclaims.

Hoseok presses a smile in response, “thanks.”

“Um… can I sit here if this seat isn't taken?”

“Sorry but I'm actually saving this seat for my friend,” he softly repeats himself, craning his neck up to give one last apologetic smile from his seat and to the standing girl.

Tch, lucky him, you scoff to yourself, being Mr. Popular With Girls must have its perks in social gatherings like this. People like you, on the other hand, have to deal with being on the worse end of the stick.

So you shuffle your way through the chattering cliques seated primarily at the front, never-minding the glaring open seat next to Hoseok as you make your way to just a few rows ahead of his in a successful search for another seat; but before you're even able to sigh in relief and plop into your temporary home for the next six hours, a hand clasps onto the crook of your elbows and grips your arm firmly enough to pull you into another seat. A yelp leaves your lips as you stumble backwards in a vain attempt to regain your footing, and before you even know it, you find yourself in another seat at the very back of the bus.

“This seat is actually reserved for you,” the one and only Hoseok coos, and your heart undeniably skips despite the roll of your eyes.

“I didn't ask for you to reserve it for me.”

“Ouch,” Hoseok winces, “was that you rejecting me or you rejecting my friendly gesture?”

You shrug in a fruitless attempt to suppress your smile, “perhaps both. No, definitely both.”

“Then what was that supposed to mean?” Hoseok gasps and places a hand over his chest. “Are you leading me on?”

You scoff, “what was what supposed to mean?”

“You know,” he leans in to whisper, “our ki—”

“— alright fine, I'll sit with you,” you interject and slump into your permanent seat with a loud sigh. “Now can you stop bringing that up.”

“To think that you'd play me like this... you're breaking my heart, Y/N,” he fakes a whimper and frowns, shaking his head. “But whatever makes you happy.”

You snort at the irony of his words. Who's the one playing who? “Oh, quit it, will you? If being around me hurts you so much, then why aren't you sitting with Jimin and them?”

“Actually, there's nothing I like better than spending my time with you. See, I'll prove it to you.” Without warning, Hoseok’s right engulfs your left in and places it straight against his chest. You're caught off guard, jumping in your seat and rocketing your pulse at an all time high, but what surprises you most is the irregular pacing of the thumps against your hand. Maybe it's just you and your hopeless imaginations, but for even a split second you'd like to think he's being the genuine self he used to be for once. “You know, I actually prefer sitting alone on these trips.”

“...why?” you're barely able to utter when you realize your hand is still trapped between the warmth of his chest and his hand.

“I like listening to my own music and going through the routines in my head. It helps me focus for camp,” he explains before turning to wink at you, “but I'll make an exception for you.”

“Why…?”

It must be something about the way his hand holds yours so firmly in place or the way you're just practically melting in the gaze of his warm brown eyes, because a question you already know the answer to slips right through your lips. He had promised your friends to take good care of you, didn't he? He had seen you wandering through the crowd and bus like some lost child, didn't he? Man, you really must have appeared to be quite pathetic enough for him to reach out to you like this. So with your eyes down at the ground and your ears shut, you prepare for the embarrassment ahead of you.

“Didn't I just explain it to you?” Hoseok says lowly, and you glance up in curiosity. Your chest constricts when your eyes trail up to meet his. Your insides melt at the sight of his soft, lopsided smile, and you can't help but mentally squeal when you realize that his unmoving gaze has been observing you all this time. Then he makes his final blow, “I like being next to you.”

Pressing your lips into what seems to be a half smile half frown, you slowly retract your hands from his and into your lap before turning to face straight forward where Hoseok is no where in sight. But despite your efforts to keep your pulse under control, there's really nothing you can do to stop your heart from nearly jumping out of your chest and prevent the adrenaline from running through your wrist to your stomach to your legs; for the rest of the ride, you find yourself distracted in one way or another.

First, you somehow find yourself sharing an earbud with Hoseok. He shares his favorite playlist of tracks to freestyle to, humming and counting to the beats, and even goes as far as to show you the tracks he plans to share with Jimin to use for the upcoming showcase. It's silly for you to extrapolate any meaning beyond the simple sharing of an earbud for the sole sake of killing time, yet you can't help but acknowledge the fluttering of butterflies in your stomach when you steal glimpses of your old crush as he walks you through the technicalities of a routine. He drones on and on for hours about a world close to him, a world of flow and deep appreciation which nearly no one but him could reach, however, even sitting there and being forced to listen to this boy who never ceases to tease you is enough to make this entire trip before it even begins. There’s something about the way passion just oozes from his eyes as he talks about the love of his life reminds you that this is the boy you fell for.

The second thing that keeps you on your toes is when you suddenly find yourself draped in his oversized sweater. It’s an all too familiar scene, a scene that has occurred one too many times, but it’s not like you had wanted it or hoped for it to happen… did you? Having forgotten how cold buses tend to keep the temperatures at, you had regrettably opted to stuff your one and only jacket into your bags—now thrown several dozens of feet under you—and unknowingly put yourself in this situation. 

While everyone around you continued to chatter and laugh at the most disruptive of volumes amongst themselves, completely undisturbed for they had jackets to protect them from the blasting AC, you were suffering in your chair trying to keep yourself from shivering and exposing yourself to the watchful Hoseok; but alas, he was and is always able to see right through you. Seeing you curled up into a ball, you had heard Hoseok half snorting half chuckling before removing his hoodie in one swift motion and plopping it straight onto your head. 

The sudden warmth of his worn sweatshirt resonates off your freezing cheeks, your bare nape of the neck, and down your shuddering back, but those newfound comforts aren’t enough to keep you from turning around to frown at him with furrowed brows questioning the intent behind such actions. He just smiles that smug smile of his before patting your head and remarking, “I don’t know if you’re actually cold or if you’re acting out to steal another one of my sweaters again, but you should put it on before you freeze to death. Can’t have any casualties under my watch, especially not you.”

The third and last thing you remember from the long bus ride, six hours of pain that for some reason you wish could’ve lasted forever, is the intoxicating scent of him radiating from the sweater engulfing you from within. Reclining in your seat, the collar of his sweater rises just enough to cover your neck, lips, and tip of your nose from the harsh winds circulating throughout the bus, but burying your nose in the inside of his cotton sweater only magnifies his clean, spice cologne mixed with the scent of home. You can’t believe you actually accepted his offer, but what petrifies you even more is the fact that you might just pass out right in front of Hoseok. As if witnessing the return of the ex dance captain isn’t enough, sitting right next to him with your arms brushed against his and an ear sharing the same set of headphones while wearing and drowning yourself in his scent is like the ultimate blow against your weak heart.

Subconsciously, you mumble aloud—whether to yourself or to Hoseok, you don’t know—and squeeze your heavy eyelids shut to black out everything around you, “I feel really light-headed for some reason…”

You can’t see him with your eyes closed, but the shuffling beside you allows you to envision him scooting closer and leaning forward to check up on you with worry plastered all over the frown on his face. “Are you okay? Are you still cold? Or do you need to take some medicine?”

“No, I’m fine. I just need to… take a nap—hey,” you nearly yelp when you feel his rough, warm hand cupping your right cheek to gently push your head onto his shoulders. Your eyes shoot wide open and your heart rate escalates as you scan through the bus for any witnesses. Finally, when all coast is clear, you hiss, “what’re you doing?”

“Go ahead. Nap,” he instructs, patting your cheek before leaning his own head against the top of yours. “Don’t worry, we’re in the back. No one’s going to see.”

Even in the blizzard that is the blasting AC, your cheeks never fail to burn a bright shade of red as every inch of contact between your body and his begins to flush of heat and thrill. You want to pull away, to deny the indisputable comfort of his shoulders, but you’re simply too tired to argue. So before you know it, pitch blackness surrounds you and the yells of the others drown into the background where the sound of Hoseok’s counting and humming echoes akin to that of the night where you had first introduced yourself to Hoseok long ago.

-

You are dreaming, right?

No, this must be a dream; because the very first thing your still blurry, half-asleep mind comes to register—that is, after gathering your bags and settling into your temporary room before leaving for the welcoming event like a zombie—is the fact that the Jung Hoseok is standing in front of the dance studio and leading tonight’s practice.

The studio lights hanging from the high ceilings above give off warm, yellow edges to your already blurry vision. The cleanly waxed wooden floor squeaks with every sharp step of his as he gives a quick demonstration to the daily stretching routine every member must undergo before practice. Decked out in the all too familiar, albeit retired, attire of his—black sweater, black joggers, and black pair of sleek sneakers with the occasional headband he had opted out of tonight—you simply can’t believe your eyes. This is everything you’ve been dreaming for. You just want to see him dance again, and here he is… closer to dancing than he has ever been in the last year.

It’s all too surreal. Really, your gut instincts tell you this is all too surreal to believe in.

“I know this isn’t the exciting stuff I’m sure everyone of you came here for,” he sarcastically remarks, and you wonder if he’s well aware of the real reason for the spike of female recruits attending this camp for the sake of meeting him, “but it’s important that you learn how to properly stretch and prepare your body for the impact that comes with dancing.”

“How long are we going to be stretching, Hoseok?” a girl whines.

It takes everything in you not to scowl at the girl for her interjection. While you’ve risked everything from your dignity to your sanity to get to experience this first-hand, she’s piggybacking off of your efforts only to threaten the slim opportunity that you’ll even get to see Hoseok dance again in the first place.

Hoseok continues stretching, neither affected nor amused by her remark before lowly stating, “a few minutes goes a long way.”

“Yeah, but we want to dance,” a boy calls out.

“We want to see you dance,” another girl adds.

God, any second longer now and you swear you’re going to cuss them out; do they want to see him dance or not?

“You won’t be saying that when you pull a muscle,” Hoseok simply states, switching to stretch his other leg before shooting a stern look at the rows and columns of students lined up and following his every move. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him more irked than this, because a chill runs down your spine the second you find the darkening of his eyes settling on one particular girl only to threaten and etch his next two words into the back of her mind for the rest of eternity, “trust me.”

You figure dance practice really must be a serious matter to him, because you’ve never seen him go so long without cracking a joke or even comforting a student he had accidentally rebuked—which is odd now that you think about it, since that’s the exact opposite of what he had been known for back in his days as the captain; but maybe you just didn’t know him well enough in the past, perhaps his passion for dance is much stronger and takes a much more different approach than you had observed on the surface level.

It’s not exactly a turn-off per say, because you do find his passion honorable in every way, but there’s something about the frown on his ever-so-slightly downturned lips and the crease between his brows that tells you something is off. Does he actually despise dance as much as he had claimed? Your mind wanders off wondering if bringing him here is the right decision after all.

“Y/N, if you want to see me dance, then you better not space out.”

You’re thrown straight out of your trance when your head snaps up to find Hoseok staring straight at you.

“We’re on the right leg now,” he presses a smile, cocking his head at the fact that you’re still stretching your left arm. Your entire face turns red as you hastily plop yourself down to the ground and stretch your left before your right leg out in front of you. Hoseok only snorts, “alright, because of Y/N, we’re just going to hand this off to Jimin to teach you the choreo now. I have something else to do.”

“What?!”

“No, you can’t do that!”

“You promised you’d be leading tonight’s session!”

A dozen protests come tumbling from the students, a majority of them being female fans, but then all eyes start glaring at you as if you’re the actual reason Hoseok is skipping out on the actual dance portion of the practice. You nearly jump in your seat, wanting to dig a hole for you to hide yourself in when everyone throws you a few death stares. To be honest, you’re completely satisfied with seeing Hoseok even associating himself with the dance club right now, but it seems like others had a separate standard of satisfaction than you.

Hoseok intently observes the scene playing out between you and the girls before clearing his throat and sighing, “on second thought, I have a few minutes to spare.”

You can hear a collective gasp echo throughout the room. A loud cheer then erupts, and you actually find yourself smiling at his announcement despite being the most hated person in the room for a split second.

“But I’m only introducing the simple parts tonight,” he adds and a mixed reaction filled with cheers and whimpers follow shortly afterwards.

Was he going out of his way to indulge in an activity you know he’s been avoiding all too well in order to save you from the others? Or was he doing this because he genuinely had a change of heart? You figure the questions don’t matter at this point, because you’re beyond ecstatic. You might not agree in the methods others had attempted to utilize in pushing him back into his role as the captain, but you do agree in terms of the end goal point. Just seeing him lead a group through stretches is enough to make this entire trip, but seeing him lead a group through actual routines and choreographs? You think you’re on cloud nine. You’re selfish for pushing him into something he claims to despise to the very bone, but after calling you out and teasing you in front of everyone, you like to think you deserve at least this.

You just want to see him dance again, and nothing else matters but that.

-

Hoseok was serious when he said he was only teaching the most simple of choreographs, because even you were able to get through it all without tripping or falling or spacing out like you usually would. After just five minutes or so, he was prepared to switch out with Jimin when Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook ultimately decided on ending the first day of practice early and heading off to dinner.

So here you are, somehow finding yourself seated across where Hoseok had sat just a few minutes prior before excusing himself from the table and next to the rest of his old group of friends.

“Where did Hoseok go?” Jungkook finally questions, stuffing himself with one or two potstickers.

“Probably went back to his room,” Jimin shrugs. “He doesn’t seem to be in a good mood today.”

“Do you know why…?” you hesitantly ask and finish the last speck of food on your now empty plate.

“No idea,” the boy you learn to be Namjoon quips. “Maybe he’s just tired and not used to camp anymore.”

“Maybe,” you mumble, pursing your lips when the image of the irritated look on Hoseok’s face before he left dinner early. Placing your plate and utensil onto the table, you push your chair back and stand upright, “I think I’m going to head back to my room now.”

“Already?” Jimin’s eyes widen, neck craning to look up at you in surprise.

“Yeah, my legs are already so sore from practice.”

“You know we have a complimentary pass to the spa at this resort, right?” Taehyung adds.

“Oh?” you’re genuinely intrigued by the idea of soaking in a hot tub after hours of being drenched in sweat.

“Yeah, feel free to use that if you’d like,” Jimin grins. “I’d go now before everyone heads there after dinner.”

“Alright, thanks. I’ll see you guys tomorrow, then!” you wave them goodbye before skipping off to your room to change into your bathing suit and happily scampering to the paradise that waits for you at the spa…

...unfortunately for you, that paradise doesn’t turn out to be quite what you had envisioned it to be, for the fact that it’s a public spa and not a private one reserved for you hits you right in the face when you see him sitting right there in the pool of water in front of you.

“It seems like fate really wants us to be together,” Hoseok quips, the absence of playfulness and effort in his usual teasing raising a question of worry from you once again.

“Psh, as if,” you scoff, turning around and ready to march off in the other direction if he hadn’t interjected.

“It’s okay, I’ll leave and you can stay if you’re that shy about seeing me half naked,” he rises from the water, and your mind goes completely blank when they register his words.

You weren’t even thinking about seeing his bare chest, but now that he’s mentioned it, that’s all your eyes can even see. His abdomens are as toned and defined as you had imagined them to be for an ex-dancer, and they’re just as tan and smooth as honey which matches the tone of his sun-kissed skin. You don’t know if it’s the steam of the water which causes your cheeks to burn for the hundredth time today, but something about the accuracy in his statement challenges you to rebuke his claims.

So instead of denying nor accepting his offer, you plop down into the euphoric heat of the water and submerge yourself until your chin hits the surface of the water. “No, it’s fine. You can stay or leave. It doesn’t matter to me because your body is the last thing I’m thinking about.”

“Really? Doesn’t seem like it when you just stared at me for a good minute or two,” Hoseok coos, sitting back down with his arms resting on either side of the circular pool. “So, what you up to?”

“Sitting in here and trying to get a good hour of relaxation for once.”

“Whoa, my bad,” he raises his hands defensively with a slight chuckle. “Sassy as always, I see.”

You know you said you wanted an hour of relaxation, but the minutes of silence that follows shortly after is deafening. It’s odd for it to be so quiet around Hoseok, the Jung Hoseok who always teased you to your nerves’ ends. Something is most definitely odd about tonight. You don’t know when it started or how it started, but it’s the things that he chooses not to partake in rather than partake in that startles you. Maybe tonight he had started to dance again, but there are countless other things he had sacrificed in return.

He’s no longer as lively, playful, and easy going as he used to be. While the past Hoseok had been a combination of all these traits even with the passion and dedication for dance, this is yet another reminder to you that this isn’t the same boy you had loved; but even so, even if this person isn’t the one you so wish for the return of, you can’t help but worry for the boy you’ve actually come to know.

“...I’m happy to see you dancing again,” you finally say. Hoseok lowers his head and gaze from the night sky to look at you—neither surprised nor intrigued, just empty. Your brows furrow at the lack of a reaction and you quickly add, “is something wrong?”

“What makes you ask that?” the monotonous tone in his voice only pushes you further.

“Just answer the question. You’re acting… strange... today. Ever since practice,” you shake your head and frown. “Is it because of dancing? Should I not have forced you to come?”

“You didn’t force me to come. You didn’t force me to do anything,” he says before looking off to the side; the harsh edge in his voice tugs at you in the most aching way you had never known to be possible with someone like the current Hoseok.

“Fine, if you’re gonna be like that, then let’s play a game. You like games, don’t you? That’s the only way I can ever get you to talk or open up or do anything,” you retort and Hoseok only raises a brow. “We’ll take turns asking each other questions. If the other fails to answer to our satisfaction, and you have to be honest, then we get to do whatever we want with the other.”

“Y/N wants to play games? Am I dreaming?” Hoseok cocks a brow.

“Trust me, I feel like I’m the one dreaming. It’s not like I want to play games, especially not with you, but it seems like it’s the only way I can get you to talk,” you say, shaking your head. “Okay, I’ll start first then. Tell me what’s going on. Why are you so upset? Is it something that I did?”

“That’s more than one question, Y/N.”

“Okay, fine,” you scoff. “Did I do something to upset you?”

“No,” he simply answers, eyes looking straight at you before adding more to complete his answer, “well, maybe a little. I don’t know how I can answer that accurately when even I’m not sure. You’re not the main reason, but now that you have become a part of the reason, I guess it only adds to the fire.”

That’s the most vague answer you had ever heard in your life, but to be fair, you had only asked him whether or not you had done something to upset him. He isn’t obligated to answer what you had done, and plus, the intense look in his eyes warns you to better play by the rules.

“Alright, fine. Good enough. You pass. Your turn.”

His fingers tap against the poolside, but his piercing eyes never leave yours.

After what seems like an eternity of silence, he speaks, “are you happy to see me dancing again?”

You frown and raise a brow, “of course…? Yes, I’m beyond ecstatic—”

—your words are cut off when he stands upright and takes one large stride to the other end of the pool where you sat, and the next thing you know, his lips smashes into yours. And unlike the last kiss you had shared with him, this one is much more forceful. He’s impatient, he’s twisting and turning and pushing like he’s running out of time, his hands snake to wrap around your back and pulls you in until the two of you are chest-to-chest.

Somehow, you manage to pull away for a split second, “Hoseok, what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m dissatisfied with your answer, Y/N,” he states before pushing you into him once again and collides his lips with yours.

Your head is dizzy and you can barely get enough oxygen each time he pulls away for a split second to give you some time to breathe, but there’s something about the haste in his movements, the impatience in his pulls and pushes, and the look in his eyes that’s screaming for help that tells you this kiss isn’t about passion or lust or anything like that; it’s about desperation and the most twisted way to express the sorrow that resides with him. And even though he isn’t playing by the rules of the game, there’s a part of you that sympathizes with him, for your heart drops at the mess of emotions his wet, sloppy kiss conveys to you.

Maybe he isn’t answering your questions with words, but there’s no doubt that he’s opening up to you more than he ever has before.

Finally, you put a hand against his chest and push him an arm’s distance away before managing to say in the midst of heavy breathing, “I don’t get it, Hoseok. I’m confused. You’re acting out. You’re… different.”

“How is this any different from the last time I kissed you?” he refutes with knotted brows.

“No, there’s something wrong,” you shake your head. “What’s wrong, Hoseok? Please, just let me help you.”

“Then answer my question correctly,” he says, calling out to you as he watches you get up and depart from the poolside. “That’s all you can do right now.”

“Am I happy to see you dancing again?” you repeat the question, grabbing and wrapping a towel around you from a table. “I don’t know… not if this is how you’re going to act, then no, I’m not. But I was happy to see you so immersed in dancing again earlier today. I just want to know if… you’re happy...?”

Something flickers in the dark ditch within his eyes, and after a long deafening silence, he finally answers.

“Yeah…” he finally answers with his eyes at the other side of the pool where you had just sat before drowning himself back into the pool, “I guess I’m happy too.”

[miss-nov]

Over-Emotional: Danny Phantom Oneshot.

Original idea by @amabsis on their post right here!!

[Originally written on a reblog of the prompt but it went all screwy and left an incomplete version so I made it it's own post and I've made a few grammar and spelling edits. Sorry for any confusion!!]

(This is the first thing I've ever written for the DP Phandom so I apologize if it's a little OOC)

⚠️(TW: DESCRIPTIONS OF A PANIC ATTACK AND GORE!!!!!)⚠️

  Danny drifted through the skies of Amity Park, following the streets which were slick with recent rain. The stars twinkled merrily above and the beams from the street lights seemed to buzz through the comforting, crisp air. Not a sound disrupted the mellow atmosphere and ghosts had appeared to leave tonight alone and retired to their lairs. A soothing night such as this would have been Danny's favorite; it would have been a much needed break from his overly stressful life.

  Yet Danny couldn't shake off the creeping apprehension even as he twisted in and out of alleyways back into the lit roads.

  His parents had been working tirelessly  on a project that they wouldn't tell him and Jazz about. Jack, their father, would always jump at the chance to describe what he was doing and couldn't keep his antics quiet for long. Maddie's, their mother, eyes would have brightened as she recounted the innovate idea she had conjured and the necessary calculations she could toy around with. These facts coupled with Jazz and Danny casually inquiring about their latest project would make them incredibly ecstatic.

  But whenever the two had asked about it, put off by the unusual quiet of the parents, had only been given an amused smile and an occasional wink.

  Tonight, before Danny's patrol and during dinner, Jazz had managed to weasel some information out of them. Though, it left more questions than answers.

  "So, you guys have been in the lab a lot recently," Jazz said conversationally. "Working on some new ghost stuff? It seems important if you're spending most of the day down there."

  Maddie had given her a deliberate look like someone who'd finally decided to take a second cookie.

  "It's our greatest invention yet," she said lowly and excitedly. "I think your dad and I have found the solution to our little ghost problem."

  The siblings gulped and tried to suppress their shudders.

  "It's not going to hurt them is it? Phantom and the other ghosts." Jazz's voice was even and didn't show a hint of a tone shift.

  "Surprisingly, no. No harm will be dealt to them. It's not like they can feel anyway. That's exactly the problem," Jack chimed excitedly before going back to his ectoplasm contaminated lasagna.

  "Besides, we wouldn't want to hurt the object of our daughter's affection.  We all know about your crush on Phantom," Maddie teased but then added with a small frown. "Though it's not healthy to have a crush on ghosts at all."

 Jazz gave an aggressive gagging noise and Danny was torn between hysterical laughter and a gag of his own. Dinner resumed as normal —well, as normal as you could get being a Fenton— and Danny took note of the fact his parents had refused to say anymore.

  Danny was busy going over and dissecting the conversation and lax in his attention to his surroundings by the inactivity that he didn't notice the two shadow-cloaked figures tailing him. The taller one with a broader build was holding an intimidating gun, that looked like it was straight out of an eighties sci-fi movie, on his back.

  Maybe I should head back, Danny thought to himself. I have so much homework due and a test tomorrow. A pop quiz in calculus and a lab in science. I have to meet Nathan at my study hall period and at lunch. Liz needs my help…

  On and on the list went as Danny subtlety started flying home. Just thinking of things that needed done was making him more anxious and tired.

  "Phantom, we'll have you now," Jack cried, his voice echoing in the hollow streets.

  Danny turned around, slightly aggravated when he was struck by a violet beam and plummeted, crashing to the sidewalk.

  "Jack! I told you to wait," Maddie chastised as they walked over to Danny who had barely sat up.

  His head swam and Maddie and Jack looked like the reflections of a carnival fun house mirror. Though his vision corrected itself quickly.

  "I think you might have given him a concussion. But that doesn't make sense, ghosts don't have brains," Maddie said, slightly confused. She reached out to gingerly place her fingertips on Danny's temple and he flinched.

  "Don't touch me!!" Danny had yelled louder then he meant to and his voice came out with an extra echo; like he had been about to use his ghostly wail. The three stilled before Danny began crawling backwards, keeping his eyes on Jack and Maddie at all times.

  "I don't wanna hurt you," Danny whimpered and tears sprang to eyes like a line of men ready to battle. Why the hell was he crying!? He didn't cry easy, at least not of late, and he'd been in these situations and worse without crying so why was he breaking down now??

  Maddie looked at him with wide eyes and her hand, which had still been suspended in shock, dropped to her belt and Danny panicked.

  "Don't hurt me!" Danny tried to pick himself up to fly, to get the hell out of dodge but when he went to stand his vision and black an —god why were his veins burning with adrenaline???

  Danny's chest was caving, that was the only explanation as his ribs seized and threatened to crush his lungs. His heart had left its place and sprinted from the back of his throat down to right beneath his collarbone before starting all over again. Has his hands always been this sweaty??? Tremors wracked through his limbs —he couldn't deal with this now!! He needed to finish his Hamlet essay, and review his history notes, and hadn't Liz asked him to buy popsicle sticks for their art project??? That's what he had forgotten!! He can't think of this now!! Maddie and Jack could easily catch him now —but oh, God was he screwed when —if— when he went to school the next day.

  "Phantom, you're having a panic attack," Maddie said calmly.

  "No, shit there, Sherlock." Danny bit his bottom lip to prevent another scathing comment from escaping. Usually he had better control of his mouth believe it or not. He put his head between his knees, closing his eyes and trying to focus on, well, nothing. He felt tears slip from his eyes and barely stopped himself from screaming.

  "You know what a panic attack is?" Jack titled his head as he scanned over his shaking form.

  "Jack did you put the settings up too high while we were following him?"

  "Of course not! I was very careful not to bounce anything out of place. You've Done the math, four times, it should be perfectly calibrated." Jack twisted the purple and silver metallic gun in his hands, giving it a thorough look over.

  "What the fuck are you two talking about!!" The scientists' head whipped back to see Danny's eyes glowing a tad brighter than before and his mouth transfixed into a snarl. Maddie slid a careful hand to her holster.

  "Our newest invention. Ghosts, well most of them, are just whispers of feelings that people once had. They can't actually feel and so they do bad things or... or they mimic human behaviors really well to make it seem like they do, like they're human." Maddie's voice trailed off at the end as if seeing if he would explode.

  Danny felt that normally he would have but he started to hyperventilate. How was he going to reverse it??? Was there even a way to do so or did they not include a reverse button by mistake (on purpose?) like they had mistakenly put the 'on' button inside the portal??

  "We're going to take you to the lab. Check your... concussion and to stabilize your mood. Run a few tests..."

Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodoh—

   They would strap him down and cut and lay his chest open like a butterfly steak and their hungry eyes would roam over him and their hands would devour him by pulling at his nerve endings and removing his organs and Danny would scream until his voice was hoarse and then some like a helpless lamb. Would he bleed blood or ectoplasm when they drained him? Would they take turns as he bleed out?? Or would they flow out together like some sort of demented, holiday dinner?? Or—

  "Phantom! You need to calm down." Maddie was at his side (when had she gotten there?) and was squeezing his hand. Danny briefly noted her eyes were filled with worry as her goggles hung at her neck. "Just breathe with me okay, please."

  "Breathe with her, buddy" Jack, who sat on the other side of Danny, whispered as he gently rubbed circles on the boy's lower back. "It's gonna be okay. We aren't going to hurt you."

  Danny wanted to say a smart aleck remark about them not having the same sentiment five minutes ago but instead focused on his breathing. He faced his head skyward and tried to count the stars. Nothing but him and the stars, no home— just the stars.

  Danny was reminded of the time he went stargazing with the rest of his family. A rare occasion as Maddie and Jack seemed to always be working. They had smiled so big at him as he pointed out constellations, awestruck. Jazz had nodded along as she listened attentively with a smile of her own. The night hadn't been more clear in months and more stars then usually were out. The picnic blanket they laid on was soft and him and Jazz had rested in between their parents and God they had been so happy then—

  Danny let out an involuntary sob. The melancholy seemed to come from the depths of his chest but at least it seemed to push out the panic.

  "Phantom," Maddie asked as she huddled closer to him. Phantom, not Danny. It hadn't really bothered him before; they didn't know it was him so why would they call him by his name?

  But it still made him cry harder. He wanted to tell them. He wanted to so, so bad.

  Jazz had urged him to tell them. But Danny had always been afraid. Scared that they wouldn't want him anymore.

  Now the sadness had overwhelmed the fear and the panic. He felt so isolated even when his parents were next to him, right there, trying to coax him into being calm. He had to tell them. He had to do it now because he wouldn't be this impulsive again.

  He felt the white rings gloss over him and heard Jack yell out "Phantom". When it was over he heard them gasp.

  "D-Danny," Maddie choked out.

   "I'm so sorry," Danny said through his tears. He chanted it over and over again as his parents reassured him that he had nothing to be sorry for and that they should apologize.

  The three sat there for quite some time, huddled close and crying together.

  Soon they would head home and take care of Danny's quickly healing concussion and reverse the effects of the gun. They would ask questions tomorrow after school but, for now, they tucked him into bed, something they hadn't done since he was eleven, and gave him their good night kisses on his temple before creeping to their room unaware of Jazz watching them from her bedroom door. She would text Sam and Tucker an explanation and ask them to give Danny the answers to the homework in the morning. She slipped into bed and fell asleep.

  The streets were barely slick with rain anymore. The stars twinkled merrily and the street lights buzzed. The crisp, cool air was calm and mellow. The night soothing and the Fentons were a family once again.