#just a small detail to add to his (creepy) charm :)

[mirensiart]

Henry fire emblem is my favorite creepy pasta

[writethelifeyouwant]

Always With The Scissors

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader / Dean Winchester x Reader / Sam x Dean Rating: 18+ Tags: sloppy seconds, voyeurism, angst, objectification of women, slut shaming, dirty talk, cum play, pining!Dean Word Count: 2.9k  Created for: @spnkinkbingo​ - Objectification | @negans-lucille-tblr​ - Man Crush Monday: Sam and Dean / Two for Tuesdays: Smangst / Sinful Sunday: Sloppy Seconds  A/N: Super big congratulations of 7,000 followers!! You deserve every single one and many many more ❤️

Dean has a very specific kink. He knows it makes him sound a little creepy... okay, a lot creepy – okay, he is actually a full-on creep – but he never cums harder than he does when he's inside a girl his little brother's just fucked. And it’s not that his brother has awesome taste in girls and Dean is just jealous and wants in on the fun too. It’s not even that he has a big kink for sloppy seconds. It had never appealed to him before they started playing this sick sort of game they’ve been playing since Sam decided he was over Jess enough to start sleeping around again (he knew Sam was nowhere near ready for another relationship).

Dean remembers eyeing up a petite little thing at the bar once and then noticing Sam checking her out not too long after. Ever the gracious big brother, and not creepily concerned with Sam’s sex life, Dean figured he’d bow out and let Sam take the swing at this one — but then Sam caught Dean looking at her too, and tried to back down to let Dean have at it. Dean couldn’t have that. So he suggested the ploy that got them where they are now, they play Rock Paper Scissors for the chance to shoot their shot; Dean always loses Rock Paper Scissors.

The part of the night they hadn’t anticipated was the girl they’d been ogling spotting them playing a game for the chance to fuck her, and suggesting that they don’t need to choose, they can just take turns. That had been the game changer.

Listening to Sam fuck her stupid through the wall of the motel room is seriously hot, and Dean has to fight to keep his hand out of his pants the whole time he sits waiting, hearing Sam grunt out filth that he never imagined he’d hear from his little brother’s mouth. And when Sam lopes back through the adjoining door between their rooms with sex ruffled hair and a smirk, with a quick aside of ‘She’s all yours’ before he ducks into the bathroom for a shower, Dean swears he feels his knees go weak.

Quick as he can, he makes his way into the ‘sex room’ as he decided to call it in his head, and found the girl laying in the centre of the bed, legs draped open, playing with the cum leaking out of her pussy. Dean has to grab himself through his jeans, scared he’ll come on the spot if he doesn’t cut himself off.

“You gonna fuck me or what, big boy?” The girl leers at him, and Dean strips down like he’s being timed and slots himself between her thighs and pushes home in one go. He finishes embarrassingly quickly, with Sam’s cum sloshing around his dick and leaking into his mouth where the girl had painted it on like lip gloss. He devours every drop.

Dean catches Sam’s eye from across the bar and nods towards the girl he’s picked out as a target. It’s a college bar, so Sam does the approach, seeing as he's the one who looks like he could still fit in here. Dean drops himself in a chair and watches Sam work, proudly — he’s the one who taught the kind everything he knows after all. He watches as Sam charms her easily, gets her a drink, asks if she wants to come sit down and motions to the table Dean’s sitting at.

“Dean, this is Y/N,” Sam introduces her, smoothly pulling out a chair for her and pushing it back to the table — a true gentleman. “Y/N, this is my brother, Dean.”

“Hey there,” Y/N smiles at him easily, and Dean can tell they’ve picked someone up for a good time.

“Hey yourself, sweetheart,” Dean gives her a wink and leans in closer. “So, Sammy tell you how we’re hoping this night’s gonna go?”

“He did,” Y/N nods and shoots a smirk at Sam, who reciprocates, and Dean feels his guts churning. “Said the back seat of your car was real comfy too,” she grins mischievously.

“Sam even puts a blanket down most of the time, real class act,” Dean laughs, gulping down more of his drink.

“Wow,” Y/N is sarcastically amazed, “you fellas know how to treat a lady right,” she sounds bitter but Dean can tell she’s joking. She wouldn’t have followed Sam over here in the first place if she wasn’t.

“We try our best,” Sam grins at her charmingly, and Dean can see Y/N melt a little looking at his baby bro’s eyes — he can’t blame her.

Several drinks later, Y/N starts getting handsy with both of them, and Sam suggests they think about moving their little party of three outside. They show Y/N out to the car, Dean opens the back door with a flourish and she slides gracefully inside, glancing back out with a hungry look in her eyes. “So, who’s joining me?” she flutters her lashes seductively, like we need any convincing, Dean thinks to himself.

“Sammy,” Dean grunts, making a ‘come here’ motion with his hands and then holding one out flat and the other on top in a fist in preparation. Sam sidles over to Dean, gait smug, like he already knows he’s gonna win and get first crack at Y/N — which of course he is, because that’s how Dean likes it. He holds up his hands in a mirror of Dean’s, and eyes not leaving each others’ they both beat their fists against their palms. 1, 2, 3.

“Ooh,” Sam hisses in mock sympathy when they look down and see Sam’s ‘rock’ beats Dean’s ‘scissors’. “Always with the scissors, Dean,” Sam gives him a condescending pat on the shoulder, like he doesn’t know what Dean’s doing, and maybe he doesn’t, Dean thinks. Maybe Sam truly doesn’t realise how fucked up I am.

Dean turns to head back into the bar as Sam slides himself into the backseat next to Y/N, but he stops in his tracks when she calls out the window — “Sure you don’t wanna watch, handsome?” Dean freezes, the possibility of actually getting to see Sam fuck this girl, not just imagine it, is more intoxicating than the drinks he’s downed tonight. To actually see Sam, stripped and vulnerable, losing himself inside some cunt… Dean had never even considered that as a possibility before, but now that the thought is in his mind he needs it, craves it. He spins on his heel, looking back at Sam, inwardly praying that his little brother will be gracious enough to grant him this one thing.

“I don’t mind,” Sam smirks, eyes darting back to Y/N and raking down her body. “If she wants you to watch her get used like a little fucktoy, she can have that.” Dean is back by the car in a heartbeat. Sam pulls the back door shut as Y/N climbs on his lap and starts kissing him, while Dean checks around furtively and slides into the front.

Y/N moans start to fill the small space of the car’s interior as she grinds enthusiastically down onto Sam. Dean watches Sam run his hands down her back and up under the hem of her skirt.  He wishes Sam would take her skirt off so he could see Sam’s hands on her ass, see his  fingers tearing into the lace panties that Dean had gotten a glimpse of when she slid into the backseat earlier on. They pull apart and Y/N pushes Sam’s shirt up and over his head, messing up his hair, before she runs her fingers through it and holds on tight, earning a pleased groan from Sam. Dean catalogues that knowledge for later use – not that he thinks he’ll be in a position to test it out on Sam, but it will be a nice detail to add to his tragic imaginary Sam, the one that knows how sick he is and doesn’t care.

Sam’s hands sneak up the back of Y/N’s top and Dean watches as he removes her bra with practiced ease, and he nods to himself – respect. Sam must be feeling her up now because his arms have disappeared to her front and she’s letting out some pretty little whimpers and arching into his chest. Y/N pulls her top off, then reaches for Sam’s jeans, undoing the belt, button and zip quick as she can. Sam pushes her off him and she sprawls to the side, facing Dean now, and her eyes seek him out.

Her chest is heaving, her breasts shuddering with each rise and fall of her chest, and Dean spends a moment taking in her body, appreciating the curves, before he notices her hands have snuck beneath her skirt and she’s clearly touching herself while she watches him. Dean flushes, reaching down to adjust himself in his jeans. “Enjoying the show?” she winks at him, and Dean nods wordlessly.

“Get back over here, and let’s give him a real show,” Sam grabs Y/N and drags her back onto his lap, still facing Dean. She straddles him and rubs herself over his crotch. Sam snakes his arms around her waist and pulls up the front of her skirt, so Dean can see Sam’s cock thrusting between her thighs, against the glistening satin and lace panties she’s wearing. Dean feels his dick leap in his jeans, and he reaches down to adjust himself again before he decides to just give in and let down his zip, pushing his hand inside his boxers to fist himself out of the material. “Wanna see me fuck her?” Sam grunts, eyes flicking up to catch Dean staring at their grinding hips.

Dean feels his cock leak across his fingers at Sam’s words. “Fuck yes,” he groans, stroking himself harder. “Fucking give it to ‘er Sammy.”

“Want me to give it to you sweetheart?” Sam breathes against Y/N’s neck, tucking her hair tenderly behind her ear and nipping at her earlobe. She squeezes her eyes shut and whimpers, Sam’s way with words clearly affecting her. “Gonna be a good little slut and take my cock? Let me use you up and then hand you over to my brother to finish you off?”

“Fuck, Sam please, please, just use me,” she pulls her panties to the side and tries to get Sam to slip inside her but she can’t quite find the angle, and she whines, desperate and frustrated.

“Wow, for someone who just wants to be a set of holes you sure are needy,” Sam growls and gets his cock in the right place and pulls her down his shaft slowly. “Thought you told me inside you’d let me do whatever I want to you, and you wouldn’t put up a fuss?”

“Just fucking fuck me already, please Sam,” Y/N is begging, grinding down onto Sam’s cock like a whore.  

Sam finally stops teasing her and follows through on his promise to use her. One of his hands comes up to wrap around her throat while he uses his other arm to keep her body pressed close against his, and he punches his hips into her hard, without abandon. Dean nearly chokes every time he catches a glimpse of Sam’s cock, bare and shiny with her slick, before he pushes back into her. It’s better than he could have imagined, watching Sam actually rail into a pussy instead of just hearing it through some flimsy drywall. It’s much easier to picture what Sam would look like fucking into him now that he’s seeing this.

“She feel good Sammy?” Dean is horrified to hear how strained his voice is when he speaks. He sounds like a goddamn girl with how fucking breathy he is.

“Uh huh,” Sam fucks into her quicker, like Dean’s question has spurred him on. “So wet, can feel her soaking into my thighs,” he moans. Dean refuses to let out the whimper that’s trying to escape his throat. “Gonna be even wetter for you,” Sam continues, leering up at Dean through his lashes, chin looped over Y/N’s shoulder. “She’s gonna be all messy when I’m done with her. But you like ‘em like that dontcha? Like ‘em strung out and used up?”

“Fuck,” Dean does almost whimper.

“Oh god,” Y/N whines, dropping her hips down in earnest against every one of Sam’s thrusts, and she snakes a hand down her front to start rubbing over her clit.

“Oh you wanna cum, do you? Think you earned that yet?” Sam bites against Y/N’s neck and bats her hand away from her core. “I think you’re gonna have to do a bit more before you get to cum. Gotta let me cum in you first, huh? Then you’re gonna be a good little cocksleeve for my big brother to get off in, and then, maybe, if you’ve been a good girl, we’ll make you cum.”

“Fucking hell,” she moans heavily, dropping her head back onto Sam’s shoulder. “C’mon then fuck me, want your cum inside me, please,” she whines, voice piercing in the small space.

“Yeah, that’s what Dean wants too,” Sam smirks, but he’s not looking at Dean now, he’s got his eyes closed tight and his head buried against Y/N’s shoulder. Dean thanks fuck for that, because when he heard Sam say that he knows Dean wants him to cum inside Y/N, Dean thought he was going to die of embarrasment. Obviously he wanted that, and in the back of his mind he knew Sam must know that he likes fucking the girls second, but they’d never talked about it. What did Sam think about the fact that Dean got off on fucking his little brother’s cum back into whatever warm body they’d picked out that day? He must be okay with it because they keep doing it.

Dean’s existential crisis is cut short when he hears the tell tale gasp and cut off whine that means Sam is cumming, and he looks up just in time to catch the  pure fucking bliss on his little brother’s face. His eyes flick down to where Sam and Y/N are joined and he watches, mesmerised, as Sam pulls out, his cock laced with the white of his release.

“Open your mouth, bitch,” Sam grunts, and shoves Y/N off his lap and onto her hands and knees so she can suck the cum back off his cock. Dean’s breath catches in his throat, desperately hoping she doesn’t swallow.

When she pulls off of Sam with a wet sound her mouth stays open and Dean can see the cum slipping from her lips. He reaches over the seat impulsively and grabs her hair, yanking her towards him and slamming their mouths together. Dean sucks her tongue into his mouth like he wants to bite it off, and he can’t keep in the moan that bubbles up from his chest when he tastes the bitter edge of Sam’s spunk on his tongue.

“C’mere,” Dean grunts against Y/N’s lips, dragging her over the top of the seat. It’s not graceful, it’s not attractive or sexy, it’s born of the intense desperation Dean has to feel something hot and wet around his dick, and when he pushes into Y/N’s cunt he knows he’s not going to win any records for stamina tonight. She’s tight, but it’s an easy fuck because she’s so so wet. Dean can feel Sam’s cum squeezing out of her every time he fucks in, pushing the creamy liquid out around his dick and grinding it into his jeans. They’re going to be ruined but he doesn’t give a fuck because this feeling is always worth it.

Y/N’s head is buried in the crook of his neck and Dean’s forehead is smashed into her shoulder as they cling to each other. Dean jumps when he feels hands on his shoulders, because the fingers are facing the wrong way for them to be hers – they’re Sam’s. He leans across Dean to kiss Y/N roughly, then yanks her head back by her hair, holding her out in front of Dean so they can watch her tits bounce while Dean fucks into her mercilessly.

“What d’ya think Dean, do we let her cum?” Y/N whines at the words and Dean can hear Sam smirking. “You’re gonna cum anyways aren’t you, you fucking slut. Gonna squeeze his cock real good for me? That’ll make you a real fuckin’ whore won’t it, going home with two guys’ loads in that pussy, huh?”

Sam’s taunts are cruel and mocking and fucking hot and Dean has never had to listen to Sam’s dirty talk while he was actually fucking something and he can’t handle it. He stills inside Y/N, gasping as he pumps his release inside her, mixes it up with Sam’s. Y/N is shaking around him and Dean thinks she must have cum too but honestly he’s so far gone he can’t even tell.

When Y/N climbs back over the seat to find her clothes, Dean stays put, still trying to catch his breath. He hears Sam open the door and walk her out, back to the bar. He shakes himself from his reverie and rushes to tuck himself back into his boxers. His jeans feel sticky, and they probably are ruined but he still doesn’t care. It was absolutely worth it.

We’re All Mads Here: @vulgar-library​ @tintentrinkerin​ @negans-lucille-tblr​ @fandomfic-galore​ @petitgateau911​ @schaefchenherde​ @kickingitwithkirk​ @little-diable​ @laxe-chester67​ @kassyscarlett @austin-winchester67​

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[celestialrry]

nerves

4.8k

HELLLLO IM WRITING THIS INTRO AND POSTING THIS WHILE FALLING ASLEEP SO ILL POST ALL THE DETAILS ADN ADD THIS TO MU MASTERLIST LATER I LOVE TOU ALL THANK YOU FOR FOLOWING AND REBLOGGIN KISSES FOT YOU ALL (this is like right after release of hs1 harry I think hope you enjoy mwah)

summary: Actress!Y/N goes onto a talk show, and the host has a surprise for her.

warnings: cursing, kinda sorta an anxiety attack?

Y/N was nervous.

This would only be the 5th talk show she’s ever gone on alone after being in the spotlight for a few years when her acting career took off. She started off with indie films and soon made her way to the red carpet, working with esteemed actors and actress’s she could only ever dream of meeting. It was pure bliss.

Of course, fame came with other struggles like hate from the media and random people on twitter, but at the end of the day she was so grateful she had the opportunity to be in the business. She loved getting into a character, finding out what makes them click, and fully emerging herself in whatever film she’s in. At the moment, she was promoting her new film, and being the lead, she had gone on a few talk show’s by herself, but they never failed to make her sick to her stomach. Having no one to turn to when it gets awkward, even not having body heat by her side in front of a live audience and a professional host made her body rack with goosebumps.

“Miss L/N?” 

Her head turned towards the door of the dressing room she had been sitting in for 15 minutes alone, trying to get her nerves down. “Yes?’ She responded flashing a forced smile to the assistant standing in the door way. “They’re ready for you.” She nodded her head and stood up, brushing the non-existent dust off her long dress and tumbled a bit on her heels to follow the assistant that was already walking towards the side stage. 

They instructed her to wait until her name was called, then walk onto stage and take a seat and have the show progress. So Y/N stood there, biting her bottom lip that was coated with clear gloss and her arms crossed around her waist, her heel covered toe tapping the floor in anticipation. 

“Now welcome our very special, and gorgeous guest, Y/N L/N!” She heard Jimmy Kimmel announce and took a short breath before stepping through the automatically opening curtains. She smiled and waved at the people sitting in the audience, happy to see people supporting her, and greeted Jimmy before taking a seat on the loveseat closest to his desk.

“Y/N! Welcome, how are you feeling tonight?” He flashed a comforting smile at her. 

She chuckled a bit due to her inability to not laugh in uncomfortable situations. “I’ll be honest with you Jimmy,” She said, adjusting herself in the seat. “M’ pretty nervous.”

“Nervous?” He asked. “Now, why would 2 time Emmy Nominee Miss Y/N L/N be nervous?” Jimmy teased.

Her eyes fell to the floor and her cheeks heated up before looking back at him. “Because,” She dragged out. “It’s always nerve-racking being on live TV.”

He just nodded and made a joke about feeling the same even though he does this every week.

“How are you feeling tonight?” She asked.

He smiled before resting his arms on his desk. “I’m feeling good, I have a surprise for you later, but I’m supposed to ask the questions now, will you let me?”

“Of course I will.” She smiled back.

Y/N met Jimmy the first year she really became “famous” and he had always been her favorite late-night talk show host just because he was never invasive or creepy. Her standards for hosts were quite low at this point. They continued on, promoting her new movie and such before he settled back in his seat. 

“So.” He said.

“So.” She said back, raising a brow.

“I hate to ask you this, but I honestly am curious myself,” He began, and her anxiety creeped up just a bit. “Now, we dug through your old interviews, and it seems in every single one, when asked if you had a celebrity crush, your answer was Harry Styles?”

She simply nodded, her cheeks heating up again, and a small smile creeping onto her face at his name. 

“I see that smile, Y/N.” Jimmy said, and she let out a laugh, her smile now wide.

“So, do you mind telling us why you like him so much, or should I say love him so much?” His brow raised.

Y/N laughed a bit more, just at her nerves, and took a breath. “Um, he’s always been such an inspiration for me to actually chase my career, I mean I knew him from when he was on X-Factor to be honest. Binged that show all the time when I was in middle school and to see a boy just 2 years older than me just go straight into being in one of the biggest boy-bands in the world was insane. He’s just so passionate about what he does and I admire him for that. Uh- from what I can tell he’s just very charming, sweet, funny, caring, and…” She trailed off her rant, biting her bottom lip just a tad.

“And?”

“He’s incredibly attractive.” She finished a smile on her face as she glanced at the floor again.

“Understandable. I think he’s a good looking man myself, met him a few times and got flustered,” Jimmy jokes before looking at Y/N. “What if I told you he was the surprise I had for you?”

Her brows furrow as she looks at the man sitting across from her. “What? Do you mean like a video-” She feels a tap on her shoulder. 

Y/N turns around, still massively confused, and then she sees him.

Harry standing in a simple black suit and white button up, only a few of the buttons actually buttoned and her jaw drops. “Hello.” He says, smiling at her.

Her eyes are wide and she looks like a dear in headlights before her face falls into her hands, elbows resting on her knees, her breath erratic. “No, this isn’t- no. He’s not here.” She says into her hands and the crowd laughs. Everyone laughs. 

“M’a bit offended you think I’m not really here, love.” Harry grins, and she pulls her face out of her shaking hands to see him.

She opens her mouth to say something and nothing comes out. 

Harry Styles, her celebrity crush since the ripe age of 14, a crush thats lasted 8 years being 22 now, and she’s only seen him on screens her entire life. “Fuck.” Was all she can say. He laughs a bit at her starstruck appearance and turns to Jimmy. “She’s not normally like this, right?”

“Right.” The host jokes, looking back at the girl on the couch, and his smile diminishes a bit. Her eyes are watering and she’s trying to keep her composure but her bottom lip is trembling and Jimmy’s now worried he’s about to have a sobbing woman on live TV.

“You okay Y/N?” Jimmy asks and her head quickly turns to him and then back to Harry. “I-fuck, I’m sorry.” She tries to laugh it off. Tries not to think about how the man she’s loved even before she knew what love truly was, was standing in front of her right now. 

“Don’t be sorry.” Harry says, slightly frowning but trying to keep a happy face. He’s standing in front of a girl he’s adored ever since he watched her first movie, for Christs sake, and she’s silently about to break down in front of him, because of him. 

Before he can even properly introduce himself, she’s standing on her heels, wobbling a bit, and looking up at him. “Can I hug you?” She mouths, not wanting her question to be picked up on the mic on the back of her dress and before her mouth even closes he’s stepping towards her, big arms wrapping around her waist. Her arms find their way around his chest and her head is resting on his shoulder and her eyes are squeezed shut and she’s mouthing “Oh my fucking god. Oh my god.” Without realizing she’s facing the audience who laugh at her inability to not fangirl. His head dips as he hugs her, reveling in her touch, and then she’s pulling away, remembering they’re on live TV and she can give him a proper hug backstage after this is over when they don’t have to worry about appearances. 

She’s still reeling when his hands slide off her waist and he sticks his hand out and says “It’s so nice to meet you.” She takes his calloused hand in hers and says “Same to you.” Blinking away unshed tears.

“Shall we sit then?” He asks and she looks at Jimmy admiring the moment before back at Harry. “You’re staying?” She blurts out before shutting her mouth abruptly. 

“If you want me too.” He grins that grin she’s always been infatuated by and she nods, maybe too quickly. “Of course I do- yes,” She coughs. “Yeah, uh, please, let’s.”

They both plant themselves on the loveseat, Y/N taking the spot in which she was before and Harry sitting on the other end, keeping a distance between the two. She recomposes herself and sits up. Harry looks at her for a moment before looking back at Jimmy. 

“How are y’Jimmy?” He asks.

“I’m doing well, proud of myself for inviting you, you’re the one person I’ve seen make Y/N go absolutely speechless here,” Jimmy jokes and Y/N groans and smiles, leaning her top half on the arm of the chair, her face in her hands before sitting back up. “How about you, Harry?”

“M’doing well, was very excited to see Y/N here and I’d hopefully say it’s the same for her.” He smiles looking at her, dimples flashing.

“Yeah!” Her voice squeaks. “You’re right. It’s the same for me. I-” She cut’s herself off from saying she’s shitting her pants at the moment. Figuratively, of course, but it’s not very appropriate. She still can’t believe this. Twitter is going to have a field day talking about how flustered Y/N was at this moment.  

“Have something you want to say, Y/N? To Harry, more specifically?” Jimmy asks.

“Um,” She begins, locking eyes with Harry. “Did you hear, what I said, um, before you walked out here?” 

The green eyed man nods. 

Her hands start shaking again and she awkwardly laughs. “I’m sorry you heard that.” She apologizes. 

“Why are you apologizing?” Harry asks her, tilting his head and Y/N was going to pass out. “I’m glad you think all those things about me, plus, it’s a nice ego booster to hear that you think I’m ‘incredibly attractive’.” He chuckles a bit, but truthfully he was happy his celebrity crush feels the same way about him.

She just laughs back and mumbles a “Thanks.” Before Jimmy starts up a conversation about whatever was going on at the moment.

Jimmy and Harry start talking about something and Y/N nods her head and laughs when it’s appropriate but she couldn’t process anything. Her hands were interlocked, shaking in her lap, and all she could feel was Harry. Harry sitting next to her, Harry breathing next to her, Harry waving his hands around while he spoke in front of her. It was all too much. 

Suddenly his knee lightly knocked against her own. She abruptly turned to look at him, but he was still looking at Jimmy. So she assumed it was a mistake, until it happened again, and this time when her eyes looked to him, his met her’s and he gently and subtly moved closer to their thighs were touching. Y/N let the leg that was crossed over her other relax and fall to the couch, only her ankles crossed, and she swore she could hear his breath stop for a moment, but it was too quiet to be sure.

A few moments after they both had gained the courage to barely revel in each others touch, Jimmy was ending the show. Y/N doesn’t remember what she said or did before the camera cut off, she vaguely remembers waving to the audience but she’s not completely sure. 

And then it’s over- just like that.

“This was so fun Jimmy, thank you for inviting me on.” Harry said, standing up (reluctantly) and going to give Jimmy a hug. Y/N on the other hand was watching the interaction and it all hit her like a wave again. Harry fucking Styles was standing in front of her. The men both turn to her as she stands up and she gives a weak smile and mumbles “I forgot I needed to text my assistant, m’sorry I’ll be back.” before speed walking behind the curtain and booking it to her dressing room. She quickly flips the “Do Not Disturb” side of the sign on the door to show and closes the door behind her, her breathing accelerating. 

She barely makes it to the couch before bursting out in tears.

Y/N couldn’t really put a finger on whether or not they were tears of joy, sadness, embarrassment, or a combination of all 3. She’s pretty sure it’s the latter though. She slips her heels off and lies on the couch, her hands over her face with not so silent cries as she tries to calm herself. 

Meanwhile, both Harry and Jimmy sensed that Y/N wasn’t just going to text her assistant. “Do you think- do you think I said something maybe?” Harry quietly asks the late night host as they walk behind the curtain and into a quieter hallway backstage. Jimmy simply shakes his head before locking eyes with Harry. “Have you seen any of the videos where she talks about you, Harry?”

He shakes his head no and the older man pulls out his phone, doing a quick scroll of his email before finding video file and opening it. “A couple of interns here made this combination of all the times she talked about you in her interviews.”We were gonna play it as you were coming out but her manager said it would be too embarrassing.” Was the only preface Jimmy gave before clicking play.

Y/N stood in an elegant emerald colored gown just off the red carpet, all done up for her first big movie premiere. An interviewer stands in front of her, holding a mic that the woman was moving between herself and Y/N. “So Miss L/N, we need some juicy secrets from the “It-Girl” herself. Who’s your celebrity crush?” Y/N looks at the floor, a shy smile on her face as the quietly says “Harry Styles.” The interviewer’s eyes widen and she chuckles a bit. “I feel you honey, what do you like most about him?” Y/N purses her lips slightly before speaking again. “Um, everything? I think he has a really good heart.” The interviewer makes a joke about how she likes his eyes instead and Y/N laughs, but anyone could tell it was forced. 

The screen begins to play another clip. 

Y/N is sitting on a couch with her co-stars of a movie she did a year ago, dressed in a classy blush colored suit, and they’re all playing a game with some other talk show host. “Let’s see who knows Y/N the best now, shall we?” The host asks, and looks down at the cards in his hand. “Who is her celebrity crush?” And almost immediately all of her friends were jotting down their answers on a white board. “That was fast,” The host laughs, as does everyone else. “Okay everyone, flip it around.” ‘Harry Styles’ was written on every single board. “Oh my god.” She smiles wide out of embarrassment and puts her face in her hands. 

It reminds Harry of what she did when she first saw him.

“Y/N! Looks like you’re absolutely smitten with Harry Styles, aren’t you?” The host asks, and before she could even open her mouth, a co-star of hers was already speaking. “She’d play his songs in her trailer in the morning, full volume, and sing them as loud as she could. It was a good way to wake us all up.” He jokes, and everyone laughs at that. “Whenever he’d post a photo on instagram, or tweet something, I’d see tears in her eyes.” Another co-star speaks up. The audience laughs again and she looks to them. ‘I’m serious! Y/N absolutely adores him.” By this time Y/N’s face was out of her hands and she was sinking into the couch. “Are you embarrassed, Y/N/?” The host jokes “Of course not, well I didn’t want to get absolutely exposed, but I’m not embarrassed to be a fan, could never be embarrassed to be a fan of him, he’s… he’s amazing.”

The phone then fades into yet another clip.

This time, Y/N is sitting in a stool, doing the Wired Autocomplete Interview, and she tears off the second paper of the question, “Is Y/N L/N…” . “Is Y/N L/N,” she reads and the paper catches after the word “dating” is revealed. She looks up at the screen, a twinkle in her eyes as she shoots a close-mouthed smile at the camera. She turns back to the board and rips the paper off, struggling a bit and laughing, until it’s revealed. “Is Y/n L/N dating… Harry Styles”  She bursts out laughing, her free hand clutching her stomach.

Harry frowns a but at this, and he didn’t feel like thinking more about why.

 “Um,” She begins, “Sorry, I just- do I really talk about him, that much? S’a bit concerning.” She mumbles to herself. “Yeah, no, I’m not dating Harry Styles, he would never. Though, I like how people think it could be a possibility, thats quite funny. I’ll take the… hidden compliment, is that even the right phrase?”

The screen goes to another clip but Jimmy pauses it there and turns off his phone, turning to Harry. “You didn’t do anything Harry, it’s just you being here, she’s probably overwhelmed and-“

“Mr. Kimmel? Jones needs you.” Someone calls out to him down the hall and Jimmy slips his phone in this pocket and sighs. “Sorry, gotta handle this, thank you, for coming.”

“It’s okay,” Harry assures him, “Thanks for having me.” And at that Jimmy rushes down the hall in search of Jones, and Harry stands in the same spot

Harry knows how much he means to his fans, he’s seen them sob at concerts, break down at meet and greets, and when they tell him how much they love him when they run into him on the street. He knows this. But this felt different, for some reason. Maybe it was the burning feeling in his chest when she laughed off how he would never be with her, for what particular reason he has no clue (or just doesn’t want to address it), or how he couldn’t help but pop a dimple when he heard she loves his music. He wasn’t sure.

What he was sure of though, is that he needed to speak to her again, hug her for longer, actually get to know Y/N. So he walked into the main back room, walking down different halls until he came across the one that read “Dressing Room #4” and Y/N’s name scribbled in messy handwriting on the white board underneath. He knocked a little rhythm, and waited.

Y/N was still crying, to put it lightly. Maybe hyperventilating was the right word, because she was breathing quite fast, and there was a steady stream of tears flowing down her cheeks. She heard the knocks and attempted to calm herself down a bit, yelling out a “One second!” Before wiping under her eyes and walking to open the door. “Eliana,” She began, ready to wave her assistant way (not that she didn’t adore her, but Y/N needed to be alone before talking about everything), “Can you come back in like 15 minutes, I’m sorry I just need to-”

Her mouth closed when she saw Harry outside of her door, his small smile quickly fading into a frown as he took in her state. “Y/N I wanted to- are you okay?” He asked, stepping a bit closer, trying not to push any boundaries. When she didn’t respond and he saw her bottom lip quiver a bit, his chest clenched. “Can I come in? Can we talk?” He gently asked, eyes running over her puffy eyes, tear stained cheeks, and disheveled appearance. 

She nodded and he walked in, and she gently shut the door behind him. He turned around to look at her and when his eyes met her’s, she couldn’t take it anymore. She let out a gut-wrenching sob and her face fell in her hands as she shook her head. “I-I’m so sorry, I’m sorry.” She choked out and he stepped towards her, his hand coming to rest on her elbow. “Y/N, please, don’t apologize.” And without thinking he took the last step towards her and wrapped his arms around her, holding her firmly, one of his hands cradling the back of her head. Her hands fell from her face and she held him back, arms wrapping tightly around his torso yet again.

As she cried into his chest, he mumbled a soft, “Breathe for me, love.”, and she tried to get her breathing to match his own deep breathes. “I’m sorry,” Y/N says for the millionth time. “I told you to stop apologizing, Y/N, you haven’t done anything wrong.” He frowns to himself, that burning feeling in his chest again. She reluctantly pulls away, and his hands remain on her arms as her own come up to wipe the tears flowing out of her eyes. 

“You didn’t sign up to be here and have to deal with a crying fan, Harry.” Y/N sighs, finally looking up at him. 

“Hey, I came because I wanted to see you, I’ve seen your movies and I think everything you’re absolutely incredible at what you do, and when Jimmy called asking if I could come to surprise you I jumped at the chance to finally meet you. I know what I signed up for.” He says, his thumbs rubbing the skin of her arms gently.

At his words she let out another sob, her shaking hands coming up to cover her face for a moment yet again. Harry’s eyes widened, he was telling the honest truth, and he didn’t think he said anything wrong. Y/N however, was seeing in person, how king he truly was, and it was just another reality check that the Harry she’s loved for so long really is the same in real life; it was too much to handle. “Thank you,” She sniffles, looking up at him again, meeting his piercing green eyes. “I just, I’ve adored you for years, still do, and I never thought I’d meet you, even after I started getting ‘known’, I always thought you were like, too perfect to be real, and now you’re here and you’re real, and y’know when you meet a celebrity who seems so sweet in interviews and all that but they turn out to be an absolute prick? It’s not like that, you’re the same person I’ve loved over a screen, I- you’ve been my inspiration for fucking years and I don’t know. It’s just a lot.” 

Now her hands were on his arms and they stood there for a moment, just looking at each other.

“M’not perfect, Y/N.” Harry says softly. Y/n chuckles a bit, glancing to the side before meeting his eyes yet again. “I know, I know the ‘nobody’s perfect’ crap, but if you’re insistent on it, then I think you’re the closest thing there is to perfect, Harry.”

His cheeks turn pink at her confession, and a small smile weaves its way onto his face. “Thank you,” He finally says, before bringing her into another hug, this time her arms wrapped around his neck, and he bends down a bit to hold her tighter. “For everything you said, seriously, you’ve got no idea how much it means t’me.” He admits, still reveling in her touch. She slowly pulls away, noting in her head that he never seems to be the one to let go first. “Of course, wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.” She smiles weakly, still drained from all the emotions flowing through her. He just smiles at that, before his hand drags down her arm and he hold her hand, wordlessly pulling her over to sit on the couch. 

He doesn’t let go of her hand as they sit quite close facing each other. “Do y’wanna hear a secret? It might make you feel better.” He suggests, cursing himself for being willing to do anything to see her smile fully. “I wish I could lie and say that it’s something I wouldn’t know, but I think I know a bit too much about you.” She says, letting out a small laugh, and he does too. “I promise you don’t know this.” He mumbles.

“Okay, go for it.” She says, holding his hand a bit tighter. 

“Well, after you bolted here, Jimmy showed me a few of your interviews, and I wanted to tell you that you’re my celebrity crush too.”

Her jaw drops and her eyes widen, a face that looks eerily similar to when she saw him for the first time just an hour prior. “You saw my interviews?” She gasps, her voice cracking at the embarrassment of him seeing her shamelessly confessing her love for him about a million times. It was safe to say she didn’t hear the rest of his confession.

“That’s what you’re focusing on here?” Harry laughs and raises a brow at Y/N.

“What else is there to focus on,” She groans, taking her hand out of his and burying her face into her hands yet again. “I can’t believe Jimmy showed you that, I’m never coming on this show again.” 

Harry grins, a dimple popping as he gently wraps his arms around her wrists, pulling her hands off her face. “Did y’hear what I said after that?” He asks softly, his eyes bring into her own. She shakes her head “no” in response and he takes a quick breath before telling her yet again. 

“I said, you’re my celebrity crush too. I’ve watched everything you’ve been in and I think y’are absolutely amazing, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t think you’re beautiful, inside and out.”

Y/N’s jaw drops for the thousandth time that night. 

 “You’re fucking with me.” She deadpans, her face blank and mind swimming with emotions.

He frowns and squeezes her hands. “M’not, swear to you.”

She shakes her head in denial. There’s no way she was Harry Style’s celebrity crush. Not in a million years would she ever think those words would be spoken, much less even thought of.

“You don’t believe me?” Harry asks, his head tilting a bit to the side.

“I believe tha you’re just too nice and you feel bad for me, so that’s why you’re telling me this.” Y/N admits to him, a sad smile on her face.

“Really?” He asks, letting go of her hands and bringing one of his own to his pocket. 

“Really. I appreciate it, I do, but you don’t have to try and make me feel less humiliated, I think we’ve already passed the point of no return.” Y/N says, laughing a bit.

“Mmm, okay,” He smirks. “Well that just won’t do. May I have your number?” 

She raises a brow as he pushes his phone into her hands, already pulled up on a new contact. She types in her number and “#1 fan” in the name and hand the phone back to him. Harry laughs when he sees the contact name and saves it to his phone, then putting it back in his pocket. 

“What was that?” 

“What was what?” Harry muses, a teasing glint in his eye.

She purses her lips. “Why did you just ask for my number?”

“So I can contact you of course,” Harry smiles. “How else am I supposed to set up another date with you?”

“Another?” Y/N questions, her lips turning up.

“’m a gentleman of course, would never ask you out on a first date over the phone,” Harry calmly explains. “So would you do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner tomorrow night?”

Y/n hesitates, unsure if this was still an ask out of pity. “You can meet me at my house, of course if you’re comfortable, and I’ll order us takeout to eat on my porch.” He continues, getting more exciting as he imagines how the date would go. 

“What makes you think I’d say yes?” She teases and his mouth gapes. 

“Oh fuck off.”

[earnestly-endlessly]

hello! do you have any fics where charles meets edie/erik's family for the first time?

Hi anon. I have plenty of fics where Charles meets Edie and/or Erik's family. I hope you enjoy!!!

Charles Meets Edie/Erik’s family for the first time

In the Bleak Midwinter – keire_ke

Summary: It is not easy to find out, well into the second decade of the twenty-first century, that your mother arranged a marriage for you. It is even less easy to convince her that you have no interest in the very fertile Magda, she of the wide hips and lustrous auburn hair. Fortunately, with a good friend at his side over the holiday weekend, Erik is sure he will prevail.

A Road Trip to Pennsylvania - Aainiouu

Summary: For a year Charles has nurtured the biggest and most embarrassing crush known to man towards Erik. They are friends and roommates and when Erik asks Charles to accompany him to home on Thanksgiving of course Charles goes.

Fools and Their Mamas – LoveSupreme

Summary: Charles FINALLY gets to meet Erik's mother in person! Sure she doesn't know any English (besides knowing when Erik is cursing and thus requiring a good smack) and sure Charles doesn't have a great history when it comes to mothers, but Erik is sure everything will be stupendous, when he has brain power left over from trying to find a way to ask Charles to move to the Lensherr estate.

A Nice Boy (The Family Matters Edition) – pocky_slash

Summary: Erik's not sure whether the problem is that he doesn't want his parents to meet Charles or that he doesn't want Charles to meet his parents. Either way, he never invites Charles to brunch. Why should he? It's not like they're dating.

First Impressions – Ook

Summary: The first time Erik Lensherr, CEO of Eisenhardt Enterprises, met Charles Xavier he might just have called him a homeless drop out and accused him of being a junkie, before realising he was a waiter. He almost apologised.

The second time Erik Lensherr met Charles Xavier, he was volunteering at the soup kitchen, and Erik definitely (In Charles's opinion) accused him of being a thoughtless freeloader and slacker. He did apologise. Eventually.

The third time Erik met Charles, he hit him with his car. This was definitely not on purpose. Erik didn't actually ever say he was sorry, but he did end up taking Charles home with him, that time.

Food, Family, and Friends with Benefits – endingthemes

Summary: “Everyone,” Edie says, voice bursting with pride. “Erik’s here, and he’s brought his friend.” She takes Charles’ arm and pulls him forward, presenting him like a shiny object. “This is Charles.”

Charles manages a weak wave and an even weaker, “Hello.”

(In which Charles gets dragged along to his fuck buddy's parent's house to celebrate a Jewish holiday, and things get weird.)

Impulse Decisions – listerinezero

Summary: Erik wakes up in Las Vegas with a hell of a hangover, a telepath in his bed, and a ring on his finger. Now what?

Look Up, You’re Standing Next To Me, What A Feeling – luninosity

Summary: Charles, when uncertain, buries the uncertainty beneath extra certainty about everything else, which reads an awful lot like arrogance to anyone who doesn’t know better. Erik does know better. His mother doesn’t.

I ♥ NY (It’s My Friends I’m Not Sure Of) – oddegg

Summary: Erik is a single, successful man who likes quick sex with no strings attached. Then, he meets college professor Charles and it's love at first sight, at least for him. Charles, who heard of Erik's notorious ways, wants nothing to do with him besides being friends. Cue Erik bending over backwards to steal Charles' heart.

Series

Mutually Beneficial Transaction – Pookaseraph

Summary: In his sophomore year at Columbia University, Erik, feeling slowly strangled by his mounting college debt, places an add on a sugar daddies website. He doesn't know exactly what to expect from it, but when he's contacted by a man named Charles who seems less creepy than the other people who have responded to his profile, he decides to give it a shot. Charles is nothing like what he expected, and Erik finds himself slowly falling in love with his sugar daddy while trying to find out exactly what caused this amazing guy to buy his emotional and sexual intimacy when he clearly deserves so much more than that.

Math Reasons – pearl_o, pocky_slash

Summary: "Mom says Erik always knows what he wants, it just sometimes takes him a little while to actually realize it," Ruth said.

Charles fell in love with Erik the first night they met, the first week of freshman year. Two years of friendship, adventures, arguments, hijinks, secrets, and summer visits later, Erik is starting to catch up.

Miss Missing You – WaxRhapsodic

Summary: In his head he knew it was unfair to compare Charles and Magda, but he couldn’t help the giddiness he felt around Charles. Erik had never felt this way about anyone before, and he relished the live wire of emotion coiled in his chest.

or

Erik and Magda are separated when he meets a charming young professor out on the town.

Soul of my soul – ikeracity

Summary: You can imprint on your soulmate anywhere — school, work, on the street, in a restaurant, on the subway.

Charles and Erik imprint on each other just in time for the holidays.

Heart of my heart – pinkoptics

Summary: You can imprint on your soulmate anywhere — school, work, on the street, in a restaurant, on the subway.

Of course, imprinting on the guardian of one of your grade one students isn’t ideal.

Then again, when has Erik’s life ever been ideal?

Love Over Challah – sebastian2017

Summary: As his first Shabbat alone with David approaches, Charles realizes he's overlooked one important detail: he's not actually sure how to have a Shabbat dinner. Thankfully, he meets Edie Lehnsherr, who just so happens to be having dinner with her son and grandchildren that very Friday and would love to have Charles and David over to celebrate the Shabbat with.

or

Charles and Erik meet while celebrating the Shabbat and bond over mutant activism and their adorable children.

When, how, and because we do – aesc, pearl_o

Summary: Erik brings Charles home to meet his mother. AU of Tough little baby telepath.

And your smile, oh darling, your smile – lavenderlotion

Summary: Charles turned back around to find Mrs. Lehnsherr still standing in the doorway, watching them with a smile and some very warm thoughts that made Charles feel very soft in his chest, right by his heart. "You have a lovely home, Mrs. Lehnsherr. It's very, very nice," Charles told her seriously, meaning every word and hoping that Mrs. Lehnsherr would believe him and not think him just terrible for the way that he had first thought the house too small.

Hearts and Bones – pocky_slash

Summary: Modern, non-powered AU. An impending visit with Erik's parents leaves Charles anxious and Erik unsure how to proceed.

Good manners (will get you far) – ximeria

Summary: Charles had been looking forward to the performance at the Met for ages. Little did he know, things would not go according to plan.

The Gift of the Magi, But Screw it Up – librata

Summary: He doesn't know if he's buying too much, too little, or even the right things at all, because he's never entertained a guest as important as Edie Lehnsherr.

‘How to Parent’ by Edie Lehnsherr – SprinkleofSunshine

Summary: Edie prided herself on being a good mother. The best mother even. After all, she had several mugs in her cupboards declaring that truth gifted by her two children over the years. However, something is going on with her son, Erik, and it's her duty to find out what....

Defying Expectations – Baamon5evr

Summary: Charles and Erik meet each other’s family. Neither of them gets what they expect.

Meeting the Parents – melonbutterfly

Summary: Erik takes Charles home to introduce him to his family.

Charles Does Not Buy a Shamwow – magneto

Summary: Charles and Erik are spending the first few days of their university's winter break alone at Erik's mother's house. Then, Erik's mother decides to come home early unannounced... while Erik and Charles are naked on the living room couch.

[verymuchimmortalcat]

As You Were Once

For Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month Day 14: De-aged

ao3

@maribat-bdbwm

Marinette was waiting at the airport for her dad, Cass, Damian, Tim and Steph. Lucius had said that there were some important things to handle in the Paris branch of WE and had insisted upon Bruce dealing with it himself. Then the others wanted to join him, leaving Dick as Batman for the week, Signal, Red Hood, Oracle and the Birds of prey to protect Gotham. Alfred had decided to go on a vacation when most of the Manor's occupants were coming to Paris and Duke would be staying with Jason for the next week. 

The five of them had promised that they wouldn't interfere in case of an akuma attack. Though Marinette was sure that they weren't going to sit back if they decided their help was needed. But hopefully they wouldn't deal with anything too severe this week. 

She waves as she spots her siblings, all of them with the exception of Steph trying not to draw attention to themselves. 

“B’s still getting everything sorted at customs and immigration,” Tim informs her once she’s finished hugging all of them.

She frowns, “was there a problem with something?”

“He’s keeping up his cover,” Damian states.

“He’s being unnaturally friendly to someone he hasn’t done a background check on,” Steph says.

“It was starting to get creepy,” Cass adds.

Marinette probably would have run away too. Galas were one thing, everyone there had been through an extensive background check but the whole Brucie Wayne act in front of people he knew absolutely nothing about was a completely different level of strange.

Their conversation turns to everything she’s missed since their last conversation. She gets a very detailed update on Damian’s pets 

They weren't waiting long before they were joined by B. Though he had to leave almost immediately to WE apparently whatever he had come for had been more urgent than they had realised. 

Once her dad is gone the five of them head to the bakery, while there wasn't space for everyone to stay at the bakery, all of them had wanted to spend time with the Dupain-Chengs. 

.oOo.

They're all at the bakery when the screaming starts. All of them immediately jump up but before any of them can join her she stops them and tells them to cover for her. Tom and Sabine don't know her identity and her siblings can't risk theirs over what’s probably a simple akuma attack. 

Promising them she'll call if she needs help she transforms and heads in the direction of the akuma. Adrien's already there but the others aren't supposed to transform unless needed. It's pretty close to WE. Marinette hopes her father actually remembered his promise and didn't become a target. 

She stops to rescue a larger number of children then she'd normally have to. Why are there so many children outside during an akuma attack?

It's only when she stops in front of a boy who appears to be about seven who looks exactly like the photos Alfred has of her father at that age does she figure out what the akuma's powers are. 

De aging. 

Marinette asks him anyway, there is always the possibility that a random Parisian child looks exactly like a seven-year-old version of her father.

It is not a random Parisian child. Marinette is the holder of the miraculous of good luck, you really would think she’d have better luck.

She crouches down so that she’s at his eye level, “I’m going to take you somewhere safe. Is that ok with you?”

He looks unsure but he nods. Picking him up, she swings back to the bakery as fast as possible. She calls Nino, Alya and Kagami and tells them there's a family emergency and to take care of the akuma and to bring it to her so she could purify it. 

Landing in an alleyway near the bakery, she de-transforms. She doesn't bother with telling him to keep her identity a secret. He already knows in the future and he's definitely not going to talk to someone who doesn't already know who she is.  

Holding his hand she leads him to the bakery. She tells Damian to get the others up and takes her dad (wow, is it strange to think of an approximately seven year old as her dad) to the living room.

She tells Tikki to give tiny Bruce something to occupy his time while she and her siblings figure something out. As they all join her upstairs, she sees as each of them realise what's happened and go from shock to laughter. 

"He doesn't remember anything. The others are taking care of the akuma. Figured you’d need help taking care of him," she says before Tim can ask. 

"Hasn't happened yet," Cass states. 

The laughter from a few seconds ago is gone. They all know what she's talking about. This Bruce Wayne hasn't lost his parents. 

This Bruce Wayne also seems to be glaring at them, he also looks scared. She can’t blame him, he wasn’t offered much of an explanation before she brought him here.

"Where are my parents?” he demands, “The girl who brought me here obviously seems to be some kind of superhero. Who are the rest of you?"

None of them look shocked that he knows that she’s Ladybug but none of them are dwelling on that. He asked for his parents what could they even tell him? They obviously can't tell him his parents are dead but they also know it wouldn't be fair to lie to him. 

"Would you like to talk to Alfred?" Tim asks suddenly. They all sigh in relief when he nods. 

Marinette calls Alfred but doesn't hand the phone to tiny Bruce immediately, it would definitely be more painful for Alfred than any of them to deal with him in this state. 

As soon as he picks up, Marinette starts speaking, "there was an akuma and dad became small and he's asking for his parents and we offered to call you instead."

Alfred being Alfred remains calm and asks her to hand the phone to tiny Bruce. All of them are staring at him as he talks to Alfred over the phone. Even though they can hear only one side of the conversation, tiny Bruce seems to calm down. 

Once he ends the call, he hands the phone back to her and says, "Alfred says that some kind of magic made me small and that all of you are very important to me when I become big."

"You're strangely adorable," Steph says. 

He frowns at that and he’s never before looked more like Damian.

“So, what do you like to do when you're bored?” Marinette asks, bending down in front of him and they all watch as one of the world’s greatest heroes rambles on about something his mom showed him last week.

.oOo.

This is the most they’ve ever heard Bruce talk about his parents and Alfred. They’re all listening intently about the woman who was their grandmother right now. Neither of them want to ask for more information. It wouldn't make sense to not know his parents if they were close to him. Alfred mentioned once that Marinette looks startlingly similar to Martha Wayne, Tim wonders if B’s picked up on it yet. Even if he has, Tim supposes, there wouldn’t be any reason for him to dwell on it as far as the Bruce in front of them is concerned his parents are alive and well.

They’ve all snuck pictures of him talking animatedly, he’s too carefree to notice, has no reason not to be. He’s already sent a few to Alfred and the others and immediately switched off notifications. Marinette and Damian do it too when their phones start blowing up, Steph’s just ignoring it and still taking photos and Cass is spamming them back. 

He goes back to watching Bruce talk without the weight he’s been carrying in all the time Tim’s known him.

.oOo.

It's strange, Cass thinks, to see him like this. The closest he's ever been to this relaxed is when all of them are at the manor for something other than a gala or bat business. 

She's alternating between listening to Bruce and tormenting her brothers who stayed back in Gotham. She’s sure if patrol wasn’t starting soon, they would’ve been here already for varying reasons.

She wonders if he’ll remember any of this when he comes back to normal, she’ll have to ask Marinette.

.oOo.

They moved to Marinette’s room in case the Dupain-Chengs check on them. Father’s taking a break from talking and is going through Marinette’s designs, Stephanie and Cassandra are with him. Drake seems to have taken on the responsibility of tormenting the others remaining in Gotham or he’s just texting his boyfriend, Damian doesn’t want to know.

He’s watching as the three of them go through Marinette’s designs, and watches as she gets progressively more flustered as they bury her in compliments, well mostly Stephanie, Cassandra and Father aren’t as vocal but it’s also the most he’s heard Father compliment someone sincerely.

It’s strange to think of the child in front of him as his father. He smiles a lot more and even laughed several times.

And then Stephanie mentions that Damian draws and Father’s asking him if he could look at his drawings. Damian offers him a small smile and unlocks his phone and shows him the recent painting of Titus, Alfred, Ace and Jerry and watches as his Father analyses the whole painting.

Maybe the child in front of him is not the father he’s gotten to know but it is nice to see him all the same.

.oOo.

Marinette’s starting to get worried. It’s been an hour and the others haven’t returned with the Akuma yet. They can’t keep tiny Bruce occupied forever. She’s considering transforming and checking it out when Tim pokes his head out from where he’s sitting on her bed and says, “hey Mari, delivery for you.”

Alya’s standing next to him with the akuma in a jar, looking confused. Marinette sighs, explaining this is going to be interesting.

She climbs up and heads to the balcony before transforming. Alya hands her the jar and Marinette purifies the akuma, calls for her lucky charm and throws it up in the air.

“So…” Alya starts, “wanna explain what that was about?” 

“Family emergency. I’ll tell you about it later. Bye!” and then Marinette’s back in her room. Her siblings seem to be panicking and her dad’s not there. The Miraculous Ladybug should have taken him back to where he was. He’s probably standing in the middle of the street completely disoriented.

Detransforming she joins their discussion, or more accurately panicked argument, to let them know what happened. They’re all on their way to the Paris branch of WE in a few minutes. She’s sure one of the employees is bound to have found him and explained things to him but they’re still going just in case.

He’s attacked by hugs when they find him in the lobby of the building, he looks confused as to why but none of them offer any explanation. Steph’s the first one to pull away when her phone starts ringing.

“Shit. We forgot to tell Alfred everything’s fine again.”

Letting go of her dad, she checks her phone and there at the very top of her notifications is a missed call from Alfred. Just one, he’s not anything like the rest of the family as proven by the hundred notifications below that. Steph’s already picked up the call and handed it to B. Marinette sends Dick a message to let him know that everything’s back to normal and to please not come to Paris once patrol’s done.

There are people staring at them, which isn’t surprising but makes her uncomfortable all the same and she knows the rest of them probably feel the same, though Tim might've gotten used to it. They watch in silence as B finishes talking to Alfred and hands Steph’s phone back to her.

He looks over the bunch of them and asks, “did you have something to tell me?”

It feels like forever that they stand awkwardly looking at him before Marinette says, “nope! Nothing important,” and drags her siblings out of the building and back to the bakery. They can talk to him later and Damian’s yawning on their way back. It’s been one hell of a first day in Paris for them, she can’t wait for the rest of the week.

[tsaritza-mika]

The Main Six LI’s as YouTubers!! Because why the hell not!?

Nadia

Nadia has a few things on her channel, and it keeps her image very intriguing to her subscribers

MAKEUP TUTORIALS!!!

This woman can work with any skin type and tone in the damn rainbow, and she proves it every damn day!

Often has Asra and Portia over to demonstrate different skin tones and types

Nail art anyone?

Videos on current fashion trends and making your old clothes work for newer fashions. It’s very frugal for those who may be tight on cash

Also well known complex puzzle solver! Subscribers and professional puzzle builders send her things to try and solve. Her favorite ones usually take many varying methods to figure out a single phase before unlocking the next

Will also do time lapse videos of her own mechanical creations!

She waited until after gifting Portia a three-foot music box to post the reaction video

Asra

Anybody watch Snake Discovery? Because Asra would be that!

Loves that special time of year when all the new clutches are ready to hatch and he and Faust can welcome them into the world!

Tips on proper housing, feeding, and reptile care

Explanations on the hows and whys of snakes and various other lizards he’s come to know on his own, and with Faust’s help!

Bo-Ho pottery? Jewelry and homemade clothes? Damn tootin’!!

Time Lapse and ASMR vids of him making his own stuff to sell on his Etsy!! Rent won’t pay itself

TRAVEL BLOG VIDS!!!

Cool places he’s traveling now, where he’s been, souvenirs with stories, and how time consuming it is to get through customs

FOOD REVIEWS!!! From the weird to the fashionable, from the savory to the salty and even to the sweet, Asra’s got your international foodie hookups, and you’re not gonna want to miss a second!

Julian

Honestly, he’s probably done it all, but he has his staples

A new vid every week where he watches a new episode of whatever medical show he’s working thru/random movies with a lot of medical references and corrects the bad medical shit they have on tv/movies

Are you fascinated by weird medical history? Well you came to the right place!

Dating Sims and how to unlock every character and special ending

SURGEON SIMULATOR!!!

Anyone for a dance video? The man has the moves and will put his money where his mouth is! Wanna learn how he does those fancy moves? Just catch his instructional video at the end of the week with surprise guests! Who will it be? Depends on the moves! Stay tuned!

Living with a Corvid and how to properly care for the little shit!

Has videos reviewing pretty much every drink at Starbucks and which he would recommend for the season

LINDSEY STERLING LEVELS OF MUSICAL ENTERTAINMENT!!!

This man will pull out all the stops for his music videos! Originals, covers, there’s nothing he won’t play! Be sure to check out his album this September, available on iTunes, Spotify, SoundCloud, and Amazon! Move quick and get the special signed editions with limited copies!

Muriel

Ever see those videos of the guys who literally wander off into the wilderness and build mansions out of nothing but dirt and palm fronds? Yeah, that’s Muriel

He doesn’t talk in them, he just turns dirt and mud into cool 1-2 person dwellings, often with a small pool and running water

Wood carving time lapse videos and what tools are best for different levels of detail

Leather working for long-term wear and weather protection

Foraging and making meals from scratch

INANNA CAM!!! WATCH HER SHE’S WONDERFUL!!!

Deep forest w/ fireplace ASMR and sleep and meditation sounds

Protective charms w/ Asra and how to make them so they work against goats... or whatever else might be bothering you!

Portia

My GOD the things Portia has done for her channel! Hers is definitely the most eclectic of the group, but they’re all just so her!

Want some supernatural stuff? Portia’s got it, and she’s ready to get spooky! She’ll read from either her own story collection, Creepy-pastas, or viewer recs. Three times a month join her for some Tarot readings, divination, or classic Ouija board spooks in a collab with Asra!

Remember the beginning of Tangled? Yeah, Portia does all of that! And there’s a video for all of it!!

Cleaning and gardening tips, candle making, games of all kinds!

Ways to tame that crazy, curly mane and other cool hairstyle collab vids with Nadia!!

Cottage core ASMR w/ purring sounds provided by Pepi!

Anyone for some classic Nevivon cooking? Portia’s got you covered, and she’s making a new dish every week with special appearances by everyone’s favorite salty Grandmother, Mazelinka!

Lucio

Lucio’s unboxing vids are the envy of the internet~! What doesn’t he get in the mail to unbox? It’s like X-mas every day when you get a new box of cool mystery swag!

Makeup and fashion collabs with Nadia

Dance and musical collabs with Julian

His most surprising hobby? Gold-leaf, duh! He’s got surprisingly fancy handwriting, and besides, there’s never enough gold!

Do you love dogs? Of course you do! You’d have to be crazy to not love M&M! Dog park and play cams!

Hell, why not! You just love animals? Every week take a walk with Vesuvia’s biggest collection of albino animals and meet a new one in every video!

Spirographs? ....yeah, spirographs. They’re easy, they’re fun, and just look at all the colors!! We’ll add more gold though. There’s never enough anyway.

Your favorite Count demands cookies!! Collabs with Portia trying to teach this disaster how to make his favorite snacks and sweets! Special appearances by his new best friend, the STOVE SALAMANDER~!!!

[gaijinhunter]

Monster Hunter Rise: 2nd Trailer and news blowout

Hey guys this is Gaijinhunter. I am uploading this as a text post since I caught a cold and have been unable to edit a video.

There was a huge second wave of news for Monster Hunter Rise with the reveal of the 2nd trailer the other day during the Game Awards 2020 show. Keep in mind the actual full length trailer is much longer and better than the shorter edit they showed during the show so makes sure you watch it. It showcased a second map, 2 new monsters, several returning monsters, and more. They also updated their official website with a ton of information so instead of doing a trailer reaction or breakdown, I am going to give you all the info they shared but split up by category, trying to focus only on the new stuff.

New Map

Director Ichinose hinted in an interview that one of the new maps would be nostalgic and boy he wasn't kidding. The Flooded Forest from Third Generation has been massively remade and is back in MH rise. Of course given this game’s focus is verticality, there is no underwater combat sections but they really nailed it from what I can see. One of the most iconic parts of the forest was the ruins in the backgrounds, and now you can scale up it using the wirebug. How cool is that. 

With the new map we also got the reveal of 2 new monsters.

First up is the mermaid wyvern, the Somnacanth. This marks the much hyped return of the leviathan class of monsters which were missing in world and iceborne. This Monster looks so wild. It has a special breath that will put you to sleep, is super aggressive, and has this crazy taiko drum like chest in which it will grab oysters and other things and bust them against it to break them open and buff itself. The Japanese name is quite a mouthful and is called Isonemikuni. This is the monster that Ichinose teased with his cute drawing on twitter.

Next up is the tengu beast, Bishaten. This monster is really unique, it looks like a mix of a monkey, bat, and bird. It has a huge and powerful tail it uses for massive mobility and it will chuck various fruits at you as well. One of the most iconic fruits it throws are persimmons, which are very Japanese and if you haven’t had them before, they are kind of an acquired taste. It’s Japanese name is Bishutendo. 

For returning monsters we have a few. First is our favorite sponge, the Royal Ludroth. This is a fan favorite and a great early to mid game monster. It has one of the best move sets in my opinion, very telegraphed but it can still catch you off guard even if you are super used to it. Strategically figuring gout where to stand in order to cut off its tail or break the sponge has always been really fun and intersting so I’m delighted to see this monster return, also look at that texture of the sponge!

Then we got the return of the Great Wroggi, the anti-poison skill tutorial monster. This thing really messed me up back in MH3G until I spent the time to get the materials to craft anti-posion decorations and even then, like the Great Izuchi, it fights really well with its sidekick small wroggis and I cant wait to see the improved cooperative AI that they are making for the Great Izuchi applied to this monster as well. It’s armor also spots a really cool Crocodile Dundee hat and look in the trailer and you can see the palico armor as well. So cool.

Finally, we got a small scene that appears to show a snow map and a group of baggi getting hit by a Khezu lightening shot. Does this mean the Great Baggi will return? Not sure. But that scream 100% is a Khezu, and I cannot wait to see how it looks with higher resolution texturing, I bet it will be creepy as heck. So while not technically confirmed, I’d say it’s safe to say Khezu is returning in some form. The balance of all these monsters is so great, I love the selection so far.

As far as other returning monsters that might return, I think we all expect nargacuga and zinogre. These are flagship monsters from games directed by Ichinose and he even tweeted his palamute and palico both named after these two monsters. Especially given the Japanese aesthetic, I think it’s pretty much guaranteed they are returning. Then I think mizutsune is also highly likely given its Japanese design, the fox theme, the kimono armor. Plus the model for it doesn't look that far off from the new Somnacanth. Anyway I have super hyped.

Interaction with animals and endemic life

One of the huge features of Monster Hunter Rise is the focus on wild life and animals to buff your hunter or be used as tools during a hunt.

There are 4 major types of Endemic Life: Temp Buffer, Permabuffer, Hunting Helper, and environmental.

For Permabuffer, we got a new render of the Spiribirds, which will buff your hunter if you move near one, and the effects depend on the color of the pollen it is carrying. Green increases your max Health, Orange increases your defense, red increases your attack power, and yellow increases your max stamina. There is even a special rainbow colored one, which I assume will buff all 4.

Via their website, Capcom announced a new item called the Petalace, a bracelet made of a plant called a Sending Sprig that each hunter has equipped. This is what collects the pollen from the birds and buffs your hunter. There is a variety of Petalaces in the game and some may increase the amount in which an attack boost is applied from a single Spiribird, raise the max value that health can be boosted, and more. Here in the screen shot we can see the caps for each and the amount gained for each buff. Just a quick note but this is not going to be replacing charms as we know that they are giving away a talisman for pre-order.

For Temp Buffer creatures, they revealed the name of the Clothfly, a butterfly that will temporarily increase your defense once you interact with it and cause it to generate a cloud of dust. In previous videos we have seen Peepers that reduce stamina usage, birds that raise your base stats, and a dragonfly that boosts your affinity and I had calculated it out to being applied for 90 seconds but we’ll have to wait for hte final game to see if that depends on the effect or if they change it, but it sounds about right.

For Hunting Helper creatures, we got an adorable new render of the Stinkmink. You can carry up to 5 Hunting Helpers and use them like items. The Stinkmink can be used to cover yourself in a special pheromone that will attract large monsters to you, even allowing you to lure one monster toward another to cause a turf war. I personally can think of other applications like luring a monster toward a trap and stuff like that.

And for environmental endemic life, they didn't show it in the trailer but there are also wildlife that can be used like environmental traps. For example, use raw meat and the giganha fish will go crazy, damaging anything nearby be it a hunter or monster. I can’t wait to see someone hunt a Great Wroggi using only raw meat. I love that we finally will have more use for this item.

NPCs

In the new trailer we got to hear several of the NPC villagers talking and on the website they go into a lot more details. They have quite the star-studded cast in Japanese and the English voice actors are also very interesting picks. This really marks the first time in Monster Hunter that the main cast of villagers will all be called by name and speak, which I think adds a lot of personality to the game.

First we have Fugen the village elder of Kamura and skilled long sword user. 

Then we have Hinoa the Quest Maiden, a cheerful and optimistic girl who serves as the quest giver in the village while her twin sister runs the gathering hub. While not announced in any other language, the French and Italian language sites for the game list her sister’s name as Minoto. Hinoa’s name is Hinoe in Japnaese and for the rest of the cast their names are identical between the two languages.

One thing I am excited for is that they said that one of the ways they will help communicate the uniqueness of Kamura is through songs and they shared a sample of one of them in the full trailer. This one is sung by Izumi Kato. If you remember back in Monster Hunter 4 Ultimate they featured songs by the wyverian Diva, and I am so happy they decided to do songs again, they add so much richness to the world and are just lovely to listen to.

Next up is Yomogi, our village chef. In this game you will eat meals at her Tea Shop, where her speciality is the Bunny Dango she makes along with the help of some palicoes. I love that we’ve seen her in past videos with a heavy bowgun, so the idea that all the villagers are active participants in the story is great. 

Then we have Hamon the blacksmith. He used to hunt alongside Fugen back in the day but now creates weapons for the hunters of the village. His grandson also appears in the game and is a kind-hearted youth that loves your hunting companions.

Next is Kagero the merchant. Despite his mysterious appearance he is actually very warm and kind. If there is a sale going on, not only can you buy most items for half off, but you can also participate in a lottery where you spin a wheel and it dispenses a colored ball. Get a rare color ball to win a rare prize. You can do it once per sale, but you can also scan an amiibo to spin two more times, but only once per day per amiibo you own.

Finally we have Komitsu the sweet-tooth, she sells candy apples in town. What these do is still not yet revealed.

Companions

We got an adorable render for the Cohoot, the pet owl that shows the positions of monsters on your map. You can interact with it in the town and even dress them up in fancy outfits.

Kamura Village

We got gameplay showing that the entire village is open to the 4 person multiplayer session and you can even ride around on your palamute and use your wirebug while in the village to zip around and have fun. There is still a gathering hall but the ability to see each other in the village as well as jump around and really explore it is a lovely change they are making.

Story wise we got more info about the Rampage, both a story mechanic and new quest type. For some reason the monsters will sometimes gang up and attack the village all at once and no one knows why. They call this a Rampage. There was a really bad rampage 50 years ago that nearly destroyed the village and in response the town has created a Stronghold to stop further invasions. This looks like a new quest type with multiple monsters all at once, and a slew of different artillery options at your disposal. I could see this as being a really fun type of quest to do online with other players. 

And of course the most exciting news was that there will be a demo in January with more details to come later. That is far earlier than I expected and I now have to finish up my back catalogue of games in like the next month.

And that about wraps it up. Cpacom said that they will be sharing weapon preview videos for all 14 types very soon and if they do the way they used to do it, we’ll get one new video a day for 2 weeks. I hope you enjoyed this recap of the news and please let me know down in comments what you thought about the second trailer. And until next time, happy hunting.

[piratewithvigor]

Eldritch Horrors Anonymous: A Wrestler Fic

Dr. Shelby's led plenty of support groups before and helped plenty of people in them. But these people aren't exactly people...

(I spent the last two days binging matches and assorted other videos to try and get the characterizations right, so let's see how this goes)

Plenty of bad crack below

When Dr. Shelby had been approached with the idea of running this group, he’d been… unsure. Possibly even apprehensive. He’d led groups for violent individuals before; anger management was the most memorable, but the coordinator nearly begged him to start this one. She’d had some of these individuals in other groups, but none of their problems truly seemed to stem from the focus of the groups they tried. They had a unique problem. A unique struggle that needed support from others just like them.

It was the night of the first meeting and he wasn’t quite sure what the outcome might be. The community center had been advertising it for the last few weeks and he’d heard about some interested parties, but the exact number was a little unsure. He’d been told a ‘handful’, which wasn’t frustrating as an imprecise number until it came time to set up the chairs in the room. Six seemed like a good number. A couple, but not too many. Colder drinks were set out on a table along the edge of the room. Nothing too hot. A lot of those coming had problems with heat. As well as with machinery. Some of them had habits with… well, with making it explode.

God, he hoped nothing exploded during this meeting.

The flyer stapled to the bulletin board said the meeting started at 6 and it was 5:55 when Dr. Shelby sat down in his chair opposite the semi-circle. The noticeably empty semi-circle. A part of him was disheartened that the room was empty, but a much more selfish part was deeply relieved. He’d spent a few days reading articles about these individuals and how best to help them. Unfortunately, not much research had been done besides describing the pain they inflicted in such gruesome detail that Dr. Shelby had felt the need to make himself a cup of tea.

But those were laboratory settings. This was a friendly support group. No one was being forced to be there, or even being paid. They were coming because they wanted to.

By 6:03, he was tempted to just start packing up. Maybe no one was coming. Maybe the group was a bad idea in the first place. He’d been told to wait until 6:05 for people to arrive, but even just two more minutes seemed like too many to just sit there.

He was shaken from his thoughts by the large metal door on the other side of the room creaking open slowly. A hand gloved in black leather wrapped around and Dr. Shelby tensed for a moment until the owner of the hand appeared. A pleasantly-dressed gentleman in a neat sweater, a short beard and his hair pulled back looked around the room before spotting Dr. Shelby and seeming to relax.

“Excuse me, is this Eldritch Horrors Anonymous?” He asked, smiling warmly.

“Uh, it’s supposed to be,” Dr. Shelby nodded. If anyone had shown up, he wanted to add, but bit his tongue back.

The man’s smile widened and he turned back from the room to call over his shoulder. “Found it, guys! We’re supposed to be in here!”

Guys? There were more?

Maybe the night wouldn’t be such a bust after all.

The man stepped inside the room and pulled open the door politely. Dr. Shelby couldn’t see the people until they entered, but it didn’t truly matter; no amount of time could have prepared him for the group joining him.

The first one to nearly skip through the door looked like a child at first glance. Definitely not an eldritch horror. She wasn’t much taller than one and with her long blonde hair pulled into pigtails and a doll clutched to her chest, she looked even more like one. She paused long enough to thank the man holding open the door before taking a seat in the middle chair of the semi-circle, directly across from Dr. Shelby. It wasn’t until she was fully seated that he got a proper look at her face. Her strikingly icy eyes were surrounded by thick black rings and every time the hairs in front of her face moved, Dr. Shelby swore he saw black liquid dripping from her scalp. The chill that went down his spine was either negated or enhanced by her wide, jubilant grin. He wasn’t sure which.

The man who sat beside her also seemed confusingly normal at first glance. A plain black t-shirt and leather jacket. Perhaps a little more… edgy than Dr. Shelby would have preferred to dress, but he seemed like an equally charming young man.

Unfortunately, a pattern of three seemingly normal people did not necessarily mean the group would be.

The next one to enter the room had to quite literally duck to pass through the door. Dr. Shelby guessed him to be seven feet tall, give or take a few inches. He was wearing a black suit that covered most of his body, save for his face, which had its own covering of a deep red mask. He didn’t smile like the others had so far. Not even a polite half-smile of acknowledgment. Just sat down in one of the chairs that looked like it might prove to be a little too small.

Dr. Shelby had been so focused on keeping his expression steady while watching the masked member of the group that he hadn’t noticed one final member sneak in through the door and sit on the other side of the circle. He had an oversized alarm clock clutched in one hand, a paper bag in the other and a steady, intense smile in Dr. Shelby’s direction. Though his face was just as covered in red, he seemed to be the exact opposite of the stoic masked member.

“I think that’s everyone,” the man holding the door declared, taking one last glance down the hall before starting to let it go. He was intercepted by a gloved hand pushing back against the door.

“I’m so sorry I’m late.” A final member slid in, face covered in white and black paint and a long leather coat stretching to his ankles. “All the hallways here look the same.”

“We had that problem too,” the man holding open the door nodded. “Kept walking around in circles trying to find the room. And it didn’t get much easier after the flyer got a hole burnt through it right where the room number was listed.”

“I said I was sorry,” the masked member grumbled.

Oh God, he burnt things unintentionally?

“Don’t worry about it, you’re all on time,” Dr. Shelby interjected, hoping to avoid any conflict between the members before the meeting had even technically started.

The final two men took their seats. Six? Not a bad turnout. Might as well get started.

“Welcome everyone, my name is Dr. Shelby.” A collection of polite nods came his way. “Now, you’re all here because you face the same struggle every day and you wanted to meet people like you. Am I right so far?” Everyone nodded again. “Good. I’ve led a lot of support groups just like these and almost everyone in them has felt major improvements knowing that they have a safe place to share their feelings every week. Why don’t we go around the circle and introduce ourselves and share what brings us here?”

It was always a risky move. Especially with brand-new groups. Some of them were bound to be a little more shy or wouldn’t really want to participate until they felt more comfortable with the other members. Dr. Shelby hoped there would at least be one outgoing one amongst them.

Dr. Shelby knew he wasn’t masking his fear very well. He’d perfected the perpetual smile; it was necessary when leading support groups, but he couldn’t always control his eyes.

The group all looked amongst themselves before the man in the sweater held up his hand.

“I can get the ball rolling,” he smiled, standing up. “My name is Bray and for the last few months, my body gets periodically taken over by my dark half named The Fiend, an entity whose sole objective is to cause as much pain and suffering to those around him as physically possible.”

“Thank you, Bray,” he tried to say with as even a voice as possible. “Who’s next?”

“I’ll go,” the girl smiled, standing up with a flounce. “My name’s Alexa and this is Lilly.” She spun the doll around to reveal the most grotesque face Dr. Shelby had ever seen. He wasn’t certain from across the circle, but it looked like the teeth sewn into the mouth were real. “The Fiend showed me the way into the darkness, and Lilly took it from there.”

This is normal for them. It’s not going to help anyone here if you start looking like you’re scared.

But darn, is that doll ever creepy.

The man with the red face paint stood up next.

“I’m the Boogeyman!” He grinned with wide eyes, looking around at each member of the circle erratically. It was only as he began to move around that Dr. Shelby noticed the paper bag he was clutching seemed to be dripping some kind of dark liquid.

“Thank you for introducing yourself… Boogeyman. If it’s not too personal, do you mind if I ask what’s in your bag there?”

“Worms.”

“Worms?”

Boogeyman unrolled the bag and pulled out a handful of dirt-covered, very much alive earthworms before shoving said handful into his mouth. No one around the circle seemed all that disgusted. Like it was a regular Tuesday evening for them. Except for the man with the white face paint who seemed like he was as pale as a ghost underneath.

“I’ll, uh, that’s fine for this week, Boogeyman, but I’ll please ask you to leave your… worms at home next week. We’re not really supposed to have food in this room to keep it peanut-free,” Dr. Shelby explained, holding back the sick feeling knotting his stomach. “But if anyone is thirsty, I’ve got bottles of water and juice boxes on the back table. Feel free to help yourselves.”

Boogeyman nodded and carefully put his worms back into his bag as he sat down. The man with the white face paint immediately raised his hand.

“Yes, your name is…”

“I think I might be in the wrong place.”

Dr. Shelby looked him over. He didn’t look eerily normal like Bray, and he didn’t seem to have brought a bag of worms as a snack. Looked like he fell somewhere in between.

“You seem like you’re in the right place. This is Eldritch Horrors Anonymous; I don’t know where else you’d be tonight.”

The man’s expression changed from nerves to sheepish understanding. “I thought this was Troubled Goths Anonymous. I couldn’t find the flyer and followed Boogeyman in. My mistake.”

Dr. Shelby nodded understandingly. “Right room, wrong day. Troubled Goths Anonymous is Monday nights.”

The man stood to leave with his hands up apologetically. “It was great to meet you all, but I don’t belong here. Best of luck to you… eldritch horrors.”

“Oh, be careful when you come back on Monday. That’s also when they host Troubled Punks Anonymous. Very similar groups, but people seem to have very strong preferences of one over the other.”

The man nodded and left the room as Dr. Shelby turned back to the remaining members. “Some of you came here from those groups, right?”

“Troubled Punks Anonymous kicked me out a few days ago,” Bray sighed, his perpetual smile dropping for a moment. Everyone murmured their sympathy and Alexa patted him on the knee. “It’s alright, though," he continued. "You all seem like a much better fit so far.”

“That’s the point of this group,” Dr. Shelby smiled. “Now who’s next?”

The man in the leather jacket looked towards the man in the mask before shrugging and standing.

“M’name’s Finn. Sometimes the rage o’ battle brings out the Demon King Bálor from within me ‘n with the openin’ o’ his great eye, enemies are laid to waste a’ his feet,” he explained, about as casually as one would talk about what they did over the weekend.

“Glad to have you here, Finn.” It was getting easier to digest the stories of the people around him as he heard more. Maybe he’d even be able to hear the last one without faking the comfort of his smile. “And last, but certainly not least…” He turned towards the masked man expectedly. There was no smile, polite or otherwise. But he also didn’t seem like he was hesitating because he was shy. Just… grumpy.

“You don’t have to introduce yourself if you don’t feel comfortable, but we’re still a small group and as far as I can tell, all very friendly,” Dr. Shelby pushed a little further. The other members nodded in agreement. Even Boogeyman, who had snuck another worm from his bag into his mouth.

“Fine,” he grumbled, standing up. “I’m Kane. I’m the devil’s favorite demon. I grew up in a basement, suffering severe psychological and emotional scarring when my brother set my parents on fire. From there, I shifted around a series of mental institutions until I was grown, at which point I buried my brother alive... twice. Since then, I’ve set a couple of people on fire and abducted various co-workers. Oh, and I once electrocuted a man’s testicles. Years ago, I had a girlfriend named Katie, but let’s just say that didn’t turn out so well. My real father is a man named Paul Bearer who I recently trapped in a meat locker. I’ve been married, divorced, broke up my ex wife’s wedding and attacked the priest and for reasons never quite explained, I have an unhealthy obsession with torturing Pete Rose.”

Okay, maybe they can get weirder.

“Thank you… Kane.” He paused a moment before remembering back to the list that he’d been given a few days before. “That name sounds familiar; I think I was told to expect you, but they said you might be coming with your brother.”

“Probably won’t happen.”

“Why not? Is he not an eldritch horror?”

“He is. He just won’t come. Has better things to do.”

“Like what?”

“He said ‘watching paint dry’.”

“Maybe when you see him again, you can tell him we’re more fun than watching paint dry,” Alexa suggested, bouncing Lilly on her lap.

“That’s right. And that goes for all of you,” Dr. Shelby mentioned. “If anyone knows someone who might need a support group like this, go ahead and invite them. This isn’t Fight Club; it doesn’t have to be secret.”

The group chuckled a little at his attempt at a joke. Even Kane cracked a small smile.

Dr. Shelby relaxed a little in his seat. These people might dress strangely and have bizarre interests, diets and backstories, but deep down, they were just like anyone else. Maybe he could help them after all.

[cosmiclatte28]

Single (Jeno x you)

a/n : i may forgot how to write (?) anyways this is a jeno piece I work quickly today for @neopalette

hope this is entertaining enough and to all dream stans out there this is for you :D 

setting is all dream members considered to be in the same age as you. 

enjoy!!

People have been pestering you with the same question, “Why are you still single?”

Well you cannot really answer them and say, “I don’t know why don’t you date me?” As much as you want to shut them up with those words, you knew it’ll only turn awkward.

Well to be honest, you've been asking yourself that. It's not that you're unattractive or unsocial. You're the total opposite! Cute, caring, and fun.

You have friends or a group of school's princes as your hang out friends. It's just a lucky coincidence. You're the childhood best friend of Jeno and that guy’s really like your brother (despite the same age you share). He always brings you to his outings and you slowly develop a good friendship with the boys.

What irks other people is that the fact you're in a position every girl is willing to die for. Standing on the side of the class, leaning to the wall while laughing with a circle of the most popular guys in the school.

Now their question is, why are the boys so attached to you and why are you not dating anyone of them? Well, first you do want to date anyone of them. Literally anyone because you feel so chill and relax around them. They make you feel save too! But what is this? Friendzone? Maybe. Or “I see you as my sister.”

One day as you walk through the hall with one of the boys, Jeno, both of you overheard a group of girls talking.

“I know right, there's no way she is not leeching over them. Did she use some magic? She's so usual like us why do they choose her?”

“You're right its either she pays them, or she buys them with money. She came from a quiet decent family. No way she is not crushing anyone there. If she does not, she's crazy.”

You try to ignore them, but your heart is sad. No, you do not “buy" your friendship. They even treat you more than you did to them.

Jeno heard them and apparently, he was riled up and he went to the group of girls who looked shocked but tried to act normal.

“Excuse me pretty girls,” he nicely greets them with his smile and friendly composition. You close your eyes, knowing this will just give you trouble.

They look struck by Jeno’s close presence and melt into his charm. “I am here to remind you, what you’re doing is making false rumor and that is not good. It doesn’t suit you.”

Jeno forces a deadly smile and turns his heels back to you when the girls nod their head like they heard him clear. Their eyes found yours and you already gulp down the heavy lump in your throat when they send you a death glare.

“What are you doing?” you question Jeno once he returns to your side and starts walking as if nothing happens.

“Just reminding some girls what they’re doing is not good.” He shrugs his shoulder “You should speak up you know. You’re a great listener to us and what they said were wrong, so you should speak up.”

You nod “I know, it’s hard Jeno. I’ll let them think of me that way, besides you guys know my real side, why do I have to bother them.”

That actually makes a little bit of sense according to you and Jeno, but when you meet the gang during lunch break and Jeno told them what happened, well the boys cannot keep it low.

“I’m not going to help them anymore.” Renjun scoffs when he hears the story.

“You should really speak up (y/n)! You’re our amazing friend and we cannot let them think of you this way.” Jisung chimes in, which is something rare.

You smile and laugh “Thanks guys, but this doesn’t sound like you at all. I am the one getting judged, why are you the confused one? Besides what bothers me is not that, but something else.”

“And what exactly is that?” Haechan suddenly pops into the discussion. He surprised all of you, well earlier Mark and him were called for a help in the teacher’s room, and you guys were sitting on the backyard (a rare meeting place) so it’s a surprise they found you.

“I cannot tell you now. I promise I’ll tell you once I am ready.” You fiddle with your uniform skirt.

“Okay, we won’t push you.” Jeno smiles at you and you thank the others as the bell of the last quarter rang.

--

You spend the last quarter lost in your own mind. You keep on questioning yourself, is it true you look like that in other people’s eyes. Of course they do not know what happened between you and the boys behind their back.

You listened to every single problem they have, they share it to you through messages at the middle of the nights. Each slowly opening up to you, showing their vulnerable sides. You never judge them, instead you comfort them by staying with them. Just listening and being there for them. They like you because of that and you never share their secrets to the other. It started with Jisung opening up to you, then Chenle, then the harder shells to read like Jaemin Jeno and Renjun. Mark and Hyuck also lately come to you for sharing sessions.

You know people do not have to know that to clap and give you recognitions, you did this out of empathy and care. Plus they make a good gang to play and have fun with. Having a friendship bond with boys is less dramatic and more fun.

You push a smile back to hide your own emotion and luckily they bought it when you say “Let’s not bother or mind what others think about me. As long as you know the real me, I am glad with it.”

--

“You should stop acting like you’re fine.” Your longest best friend says when both of you have parted ways with the others and walk side by side on the empty road.

You look at Jeno and he doesn’t have his friendly smile on. His face looks serious.

“I am fine, but I could probably use a boyfriend card to take care of me and make me finer.” You joke around a little bit. Teasing the boys about you wanting a boyfriend is always fun.

They always say no but they never cross the line because they are afraid that being in a relationship with you may cut the nice friendship if things go wrong (break ups!)

“You’re still questioning that?” Jeno sighs, you’ve been talking about this to him. You always code him that you want to know what it’s like to be in a relationship, but Jeno just says “You’ll regret the drama”. He did date a few girls but finally settle on being single until he is ready for commitments. You, on the other hand, are single from birth. You always befriend boys to the point where they’re too comfortable with you to see you in a romantic way.

“Well I always wonder why and where did I do wrong.” You shrug your shoulder

“I want to be in a relationship! I want to know what it’s like to  have someone take care of me, or me taking care of them. I want short goodnight and good morning texts. I want to walk with them home and maybe grab some bite along the way while we discuss small things. Oh and I want to just you know sit together, listen to a music from a shared earphone and act like we’re the main characters of a movie!” you have stars in your eyes and as Jeno stares into the sky, he notices the beautiful sunset.

“You’re being single for too long. I tell you, that did not always happen.” He mocks your ridiculous idea and playfully ruffles your hair “You read too much fantasies.”

“I never read them.” You glare at him and he nods “Now that explains why you also sound so clueless about relationship. Look, it’s not as simple as saying I love yous and holding hands in public. There’s more and as much as I hate to tell you this… I have to.” He pauses and you stop walking.

You look at him. Waiting for Jeno to continue “Look, you don’t need a boyfriend right now. You’re taking care of so many people and that’s great, but that is time consuming already. If you have a boyfriend, then you will pay more attention to them and counting the time you spend taking care of us, will make you neglect your life and study and fail school. Which is something I do not want to happen.”

Your eyebrow raise “Conclusion?”

“You don’t need a boyfriend, or at least right now you should focus on taking care of yourself. You did a lot to us, let us take care of you in return.” Jeno whispers, and deep inside his heart he adds “or maybe let me take care of you in a way you always wish to get. You don’t know how much I love you and seeing you want a boyfriend only pains me. Will I be ready to lose you?”

“Fine. It’s not like I can buy one from a store.” You start walking again and Jeno follows you.

“Silly idea, ignore that okay.” You feel shy about saying that to him, what will Jeno think of you? A creepy freak.

NO. IN JENO’S HEAD YOU LOOK SUPER CUTE. WANTING TO HAVE A BOYFIE, EVEN GOING INTO THE DETAILS.

“Alright, this is it, good bye and good night (y/n)” Jeno waves as you enter your porch and open the door. You look to the house right next to yours, separated just by a wall. Yes he is your neighbor.

“Good night Jeno! Thank you for accompanying me.” You disappear behind the door and continue your lonely life.

“Hey Jaehyun hyung-“ you greet your brother who is amazingly already homed already at this time.

“Oh hey, dinner is on the table.” He juts his chin to the dining table and your eyes fall to the set of plates.

“You’ve eaten?” you ask while washing your hands, getting ready to change and eat.

He nods “Boss was awful today, I got home quickly and was hungry. Sorry I left you to eat by yourself.”

“Any news about mom?” you ask when you’re back on the table ready to eat.

Jaehyun still sits in front of the TV, looks like he is having a bad day and is afraid of lashing emotions to you, thus he avoids you.

“She’s probably with that man again. No news.” He sounds bitter. Well, after father left mom also left to find another man. You were left alone with your brother, who has to work hard for you and him.

“Help me with some clothes will you?” Jaehyun asks when you’re done cleaning up and washing the dish. “We need to deliver the laundries to the neighbors.” Jaehyun stands up from his seat and goes back to you with a packed fresh clothes.

You and your brother run a small laundry services for the neighbors here. Well, your family left both of you with the house and utilities inside them, one of which is a laundry machine and a dryer. So for additional income you and Jaehyun did laundries.

“It’s by the end of the road, can you please drop this tomorrow morning? I am taking the one on the other side.” He shows you which packages should go where and with that you leave to your room.

You’re glad your father still pays for your tuition, but you have to keep your scholarship going or you’ll be in trouble. Right as you finish studying and doing your papers, your phone vibrates and Jeno’s name appear.

“Good night (y/n), sweet dreams!”

You glance to the window and look into the window across yours, it’s Jeno’s room and you can see his silhouette sitting on his desk probably still gaming. You smile a little and text him back and the next thing you see is his room going dark. Oh he really is sleeping!

You set your alarm and also take the long awaited sleep you needed.

--

“Good morning (y/n) oh and Jaehyun hyung!” Jeno greets you and Jaehyun on the front of your house. Jaehyun’s locking the door and taking his bike to work.

“Morning Jeno.” You feel happier with this kind of small acts. It’s not new, but something about his smile and genuine happiness is making you energized.

“Don’t forget to drop the laundry.” Jaehyun said after hugging you goodbye.

You don’t forget. With Jeno on your side, you walk to the house on the edge and knock on their door to deliver the package and receive the money. It’s nothing big, but definitely enough to buy you lunch and safe some for the piggy bank.

“Still running the laundry business eh?” he looks surprised, guess you usually deliver them not in the morning or he’d known already.

“Yes, usually I send them near evening, but today is special. Imagine if the school finds out I am doing this, maybe they’ll stop saying I bought my friendship, right?” you try to liven up the mood but Jeno is in pain.

“Let’s just enjoy the day!” Jeno boldly hugs your shoulder from the side and drags you with him into the school.

“Woah what’s with the sudden closeness??” Jaemin interrogates once he saw you and Jeno entering the school in an uncommon way, which is Jeno bringing your bag and having you on his back.

“She fell on the way here, and I guess she has to check her ankles and clean her wound.” Jeno shuffles you up on  his back and you hide your face from the stares.

“Oh hurry then! I’ll help with the bags. Leave it here, Renjun can help me.” Jaemin takes over your stuffs and Jeno makes a run to the nurse office. There is still no one on duty, but he knows basic help.

He washes the blood carefully and puts disinfectant to your scrap, you almost kick him but his reflects are quick.

“I think your ankle is swelling. I am no professional but that is not normal.” He points to your ankle and right, its not.

“Do you want me to stay here? We can skip the first quarter and wait until you feel better. You fell hard earlier, did you black out?” Jeno sounds worried. Well he remembered how you suddenly wobble, lose balance and fell before Jeno could catch you.

“Forgot breakfast I guess.” You bite your lips and Jeno in a dash of an eye has fled from the room and return with a pack of milk and sandwich.

“Eat, or you’ll faint again.” He gently opens the wrapper for you and like his promise stays with you there.

“Want to listen to this?” he suddenly hands you one earphone piece and you pick it up carelessly. Not realizing that Jeno has been doing the things you wish to receive from a man.

“Nice song,” you comment as you focus with your left ear to the music playing. You don’t feel anything weird until break time comes and Renjun surprises both of you.

“Oh sorry for disturbing! I was just going to check on you but I guess I came in the wrong time.” He chuckles nervously and disappears before you can call him and say nothing is happening.

That’s when you lock eyes with Jeno, one piece of earphone connecting both of your ear and he was near to you. Oh now you understand.

“He thought we were in a moment?” you giggle

Jeno smiles, he loves seeing you this happy. He laughs too and brushes your hair away “This is it right? Something you want to experience. Getting taken care of, doing cheesy things like this.” He teases you

Realization hits you late and you laugh until a tear escapes your eye “You’re right! This… oh gosh! Jeno are you trying to let me feel this sensation?”

“What sensation?” his heart suddenly beats faster.

“Like I am treasured and getting taken care of? I feel loved??” you sound so happy and that makes Jeno both happy and sad. Happy to see your genuine laugh and sad why hasn’t he noticed this sooner.

“You deserve this (y/n), and I am stupid for not realizing this sooner.” He holds your hand and gives it a gentle squeeze.

You suddenly feel butterflies in your stomach, Jeno’s close body doesn’t help your heart beat slower and the music playing in your ear is no longer clear. You can only hear your heart beating faster and your eyes are only locked inside Jeno’s deep warm eyes. Why did you not notice this? His eyes are warm and comfortable. You never want to cut this moment.

“I’m going to break the rules, why don’t we try to step further like more than friends?” he turns red and you are sure your cheeks are also red.

“Guess we can try and see where it leads us to,” you sing song give him the green light.

“Okay then, from now on, don’t be surprised if I change into your dreamy boyfriend type.” He winks and you laugh. Life’s great and you’re happy whenever you are with Jeno.

Maybe you both did not realize that life brought you together for a long time not just to be friends but something more.

That something, is going to be decided when both of you are ready to find out!

For now, you’re glad that Jeno took the first step into getting to know you as more than friends, and you are more than ready to share what you’re dealing with to Jeno.

  end

[joheun-saram]

To Make a Power Couple (knj) | 03

Chapter 3 - Coincidences

previous| masterlist | next

Summary- Do their dates ever go according to plan? Well, who knew watching George Clooney was such an aphrodisiac. 

word count- 6.2k

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- R

genre- series, slow burn, fluff, smut, strangers2lovers

warnings- unwanted sexual advances (don’t worry, it’s not namjoon and it’s not overly discussed), alcohol consumption, oral sex (f. receiving), hickeys, dry humping, sex

a.n- okay so I wrote my first smut scene. AAAAH. I’m sorry if it’s not the best - I tried and realized I don’t know how to get into a guys headspace during sex lmfao 🙃  Namjoon is also a high-key cheeseball and God of Destruction strikes. I’m sorry but I had to - his face when he breaks things makes me simultaneously laugh and uwu.

Also, in case you missed it I have a lot of feelings about Batman having a credit card. Batman and Robin is an absurd movie but I still love it.

Feedback much appreciated! 💕

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach​, @sassyuniversitytacopeanut​, @rjsmochii​, @jinjccns​

-

You were greeted by Siwon and a coffee as you walked to the elevator of your office building yawning furiously, uncharacteristically dressed in a navy pantsuit with a white turtleneck in anticipation of your big meeting today. To say you were nervous would be an understatement. You were meeting one of the big tech companies’ senior VP and your deal hinged on his approval. You were not looking forward to it - he was a certified creep. 

“Alright so your meetings in about four hours, we can finish the proposal in about two and then we can prep for the next two.” Siwon was in full assistant mode, rattling off details to add to the proposal that unbeknownst to him you had already finished last night.

“Proposal’s done so let’s skip to the prep,” you say as you step out of the elevator to your floor.

“Did you stay late? Yah Y/N! You know you can’t overwork like that! Also, this building is so creepy at night. Don’t tell me you stayed here alone.” He scolded you, effortlessly switching from employee to friend. You loved that he cared so much about you.

“I’m sorry, but if it makes you feel better - I wasn’t alone.” As you make your way to your desk you notice the kitchen filled with pink pastry boxes. “What’s all that?” you questioned as you forego your desk making a beeline for the kitchen, having skipped breakfast that morning for a much needed hour of sleep.

“What do you mean you weren’t alone?” Siwon was looking at you suspiciously with his eyebrow quirked. When you reached the boxes you noticed that they were filled with all sorts of breakfast goodies, from croissants to danishes to doughnuts. Your mouth watered as you grabbed a buttery croissant, anticipating the taste before it even made it on your plate.

“Y/N! Someone sent them over this morning with this note.” Timothy, your head of curriculum, handed you a pink envelope that matched the boxes. Placing your breakfast on the table you opened the note, hoping it wasn’t a client because that meant you would have to send something to them and would get caught in one of those one-upping gifting circlejerks. Arguably the worst part of corporate life.

Good luck on your meeting today. I’m rooting for you!

-N

PS: this is also your reminder to drink water - stay hydrated! ;)

Your mouth flew open as you reread the note, a grin slowly spreading on your face. As Siwon read over your shoulder, he gasped loudly. Luckily no one else was within earshot or else they would notice you not so gently elbow your assistant and call HR.

“Oh my god… Is this from who I think it’s from?” He sputtered, grinning and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Was he the one keeping you company last night?”

“What? NO!” You giggled nervously as he playfully smacked your arm. “Maybe…” you whispered, shrugging, giving in to his charms.

“Is this why you are wearing a turtleneck? Did he rock your world? Did he bangtan that sonyeondan?” 

“Shut up please!” You hissed at Siwon. You really wished you had a closed office now as you walked to your desk and grabbed your laptop, going into one of the meeting rooms that hopefully no one else booked that morning.

“So spill.” Siwon said as he settled into the chair next to you on the long stained oak table.

“There’s nothing to spill. We worked together and had pizza. And before you ask, no we did not have sex. It was our first date!” You huffed as you started your laptop.

“What did you do to him?” He asked in awe.

“Excuse me?” You were getting irritated now. To insinuate that you did something to him was pretty callous of Siwon. It reminded you of the times in university when your best friend dropped you because her crush told her that he liked you instead of her. You had no intentions of liking that guy, he was honestly not your type, too lazy and self-entitled to ever catch your attention, but she did not hesitate in cutting all ties and insisting you moved out of your shared apartment. According to her, you seduced him with your looks and personality. Pfft. As if life were so easy that you could manipulate whoever you liked into liking you back. However, Siwon was unaware of this incident so you decided to calm your annoyance a little.

“Sorry. I mean he’s sending the whole office breakfast after a first date. He must really like you.” He caught on to your tone and corrected himself. He was good at catching your tonal nuances by now, and you were grateful.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to get annoyed.” You sighed, smiling forcefully, as you pulled up the proposal you worked on earlier that morning. “I really like him too.” You admitted. It kind of felt nice to share that with someone. Usually you would pick up your phone the moment you felt a date go right and tell Jiyoung right away, but knowing what a huge fan she was you wanted to feel out the situation more before she got too excited.

While relaying the events of last night to a very excited Siwon, you texted Namjoon.

Y/N: Wow. Breakfast for the whole office? Big moves.

Namjoon: Well I am trying to woo the CEO. Gotta bring in the big guns!

Y/N: And you think you can woo me with baked goods?

Namjoon: That depends…

Namjoon: Is it working?

Y/N: Yes. Yes it is...

Y/N: Thank you btw. This was really sweet!

Namjoon: Then everything is going according to plan :)

Y/N: I’m excited for tonight

Namjoon: Me too! I miss you!

Y/N: Joon you saw me like eight hours ago!

Namjoon: Eight hours too long!

Y/N: Omg! Stop! You’re so cheesy...

Namjoon: Never!

You walked into the conference room with Harry and Siwon twenty minutes before noon and the three of you started setting up, nerves on high alert. You wrung your hands as you rearranged the printouts on the table for the sixth time, before Harry pulled you into a hug.

“You got this bub! We’re gonna kill it and then celebrate and blow all the money from this deal.” You laughed as your nerves melted. This was the reason he was your best friend and partner in crime. You got out of the embrace, infinitely more calm as you settled in your seat at the end of the table. 

Soon, your client, Mr Li, arrived with two other people from his team. The presentation went smoothly if you were to ignore the fact that every time you glanced at Li his eyes seemed to be fixated on your chest. His team, however, was much less sleazy. After you finished presenting, you and Harry spent about an hour answering their questions and concerns before negotiating another lucrative contract for your company. With this deal done, you will be able to meet your company’s quarterly goals. 

As soon as the meeting ended, Li’s team, now joined by their legal team, that arrived a few minutes before the end, was escorted to your legal floor to sort out the details of the contract.

“So this is a cause for celebration!” Li booms loudly as he shakes Harry’s hand, before pulling you into an unwanted hug. The hug was extremely tight as you felt your chest being squished by his, knocking the air out of you. You awkwardly try to escape, confused by his less than professional behaviour, eyes widened and staring at Harry. “We should all get some drinks in a few weeks to truly seal the deal.”

“Yes, we will definitely set up something with our assistants. I’m not sure if Y/N will be able to join because of her hectic schedule, but I will definitely be there.” Harry swiftly stepped in to shake Li’s hand one more time, subtly but clearly giving you an out. You were immensely relieved till you heard Li’s next words.

“It’s no party without the CEO. I bet she’s a real firecracker with a few drinks in her!” He laughed full-bellied, elbowing an uncomfortably stunned Harry as you gave him a tight lipped smile.

“Of course. We’ll set something up soon, Mr Li. Now if you excuse me I have another meeting to attend. We’re very excited to work with you!” You forced a fake smile as you exited the cringe-inducing situation. You grabbed some water when you reached your desk, drinking it to get the nasty taste of the situation out of your head. Sometimes you truly hated having to plaster a smile to appease clients, but unfortunately it was part of the job.

Your mood lightened significantly as your phone buzzed, instantly forgetting about the creepy old man. You picked up to hear Namjoon’s baritone voice greeting you as you ducked into a small meeting room, locking the door and settling on the comfy couch at the end.

“How did it go?” He seemed a bit out of breath.

“Nailed it! Although the guy was a certified creep.”

“Oh I’m sorry for that. What happened?” Genuine concern laced his tone.

“He just didn’t have any concerns for personal space” you sighed but your heart warmed at his worry for you. “Why are you out of breath?”

“That sucks! I just got done with dance practice.” He quickly picked up on your hesitance to go into further detail. “I haven’t danced this intensely in a while!”

“Oh! I would love to see you dance!” You giggled.

“Trust me I’m not good. It is not worth it.”

“I don’t believe you. I guess I’ll have to see it to judge for myself.”

“Hmm… maybe. Fair warning, there are literal twitter pages dedicated to my terrible moves.”

“Well then those people are assholes. I bet they’re jealous because you are an amazing dancer.” 

_________________________________

Namjoon hung up the call and stared at the call log on his phone, displaying that he had been on the phone with you for over thirty five minutes. It felt like it had been barely two. He didn’t know why talking to you improved his mood this much, but just hearing your voice was enough to make him forget the stress from messing up the choreography almost every run though this morning, and especially Hoseok’s disappointing face as he tried and failed to correct his moves.

Getting back to the big mirrored room, he decided to go through the steps again alone to really nail down the routine, his head full of your plans later this evening. Initially, he had planned a romantic dinner to a high end restaurant in Gangnam but after his manager’s email this morning that he might be being followed, you both had decided on a quiet evening at your apartment. You had insisted it would be safer this way since the suspected stalker would not know where he was going, but he still felt a little uncomfortable about possibly putting your home in danger. He remembered when Yoongi had a stalker three years ago and they all had to pretty much be holed together in the dorms to ensure their safety. Luckily, they were smarter now with a much larger budget for security so these incidents barely encroached on their everyday activities. Still, this was the first time he was seeing someone while dealing with this and that made him wary.

After practicing for another couple of hours, Namjoon headed back home before getting ready for the evening. The closer the clock ticked towards 7, the more nervous he seemed to get. He had butterflies in his stomach as he styled his hair for the fifth time. Giving up, he grabbed the small bouquet of sunflowers he had prepared for the evening and headed towards the car waiting to pick him up downstairs.

As much as he had talked to you over the last few days, the pressure of this being a real date made him want to make a good impression. He was disappointed that he couldn’t wow you with a gourmet meal and even though he was confident that you enjoyed his company, the fact that you would basically be forced to stay with him if you wanted to leave tonight made him uneasy. 

Fidgeting with the collar of his black t-shirt, he braced himself as he knocked on your door. You took his breath away when you opened the door, dressed in a beautiful red sundress that hugged all your curves perfectly. You smiled widely at him as you greeted him. Your pink dusted cheeks and the way your eyes sparkled as you saw him, made all his earlier worries disappear. His heart sang as you excitedly took the bouquet, sniffing the flowers before busying yourself and looking for a jar to place them in. He was glad he went through the effort of buying them. Well, the effort of bribing one of the staff with lunch for them.

“How did you know these are my favourite flowers?” You sounded shocked.

“I saw them everywhere at the gala, so I figured even if they weren’t your favourites you at least liked them.” He smiled widely, internally celebrating going for those over Jin’s suggestion of the typical roses. He watched as you carefully snapped the stems of the flowers and placed them in the jar a little too small to contain all the flowers. He couldn’t help but think how stunning you looked biting your lip concentrating while arranging the flowers, taking care not to break off any leaves.

Your apartment reflected your personality it seemed. The kitchen was attached to the large living room, separated by a large island that you were working on. The living room had a large comfortable yellow couch with a few fuzzy blankets and white pillows, facing a television on the wall surrounded by framed posters of music festivals, which he gathered from the dates were ones you attended. He also noticed a vintage looking record player next to the opposite wall with a shelf full of books and records, arranged in seemingly no order; the books differing in lengths with random records popped between them. Everything was extremely clean but he could make out some clutter like a pair of keys attached to an Apeach keychain next to the window, and a pair of sunglasses that were precariously hanging off the edge of a small table in the corner. He felt that he was looking inside your brain a little, and it made him extremely grateful that you had deemed him worthy enough to invite him over. He didn’t know if that was something you were comfortable enough doing with everyone you met or dated, or if inviting him to your apartment was an anomaly, and he’d be lying if he didn’t hope it was the latter. The thought that he was getting special treatment made him giddy.

After arranging your flowers, you made your way to Namjoon, and he felt your arms around his waist as you wrapped him a hug. 

“Thank you” you whispered into his chest and even this small gesture made him blush.

“I just wanted to cheer you up after that shitty meeting.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulders. He could feel you smile into his chest, something that was confirmed when you separated after a few seconds and made your way to the couch. He missed your warmth already.

“Honestly, just talking to you after it cheered me up.” He sat next to you on the couch as you poured two glasses of white wine, handing him one. “I know we just talked but how was the rest of your day?”

You both shared news about the rest of your days with each other while waiting for dinner to arrive. The conversation was easy and fluid, easily shifting from mundane everyday events to anecdotes about your friends while you ate your pastas and finished the bottle of wine. He appreciated that unlike other people he had dated you didn’t seem surprised that he had friends outside the band and that most of his stories revolved around them rather than BTS. He always felt that so much of his friendship with the guys was broadcasted that he’d be retelling something that people had already watched so to the disappointment of a lot of his dates, he shared more about his other friends. Like how last year he went on a trip to Paris with childhood friends and got kicked out of the Louvre because they accidentally almost knocked down an exhibit. Or when one of his friends got so unbelievably drunk he had to bribe him with actual money to ensure he didn’t sleep in the park. He enjoyed hearing your university tales too, laughing out loud when you recounted the time you had drunkenly won a debate with one of your friends on which Batman was the best, resulting in the said friend to streak around the neighbourhood.

“Wait so you’re telling me if you lost, you would have to streak instead?” His eyes were wide as he looked at you. He had not expected you to have this wild side. He was intrigued, if not slightly turned on by the idea that this side might show up later.

“I would. I never break a promise.” You looked smug as you smiled over your wine glass. “But if I’m being honest, I knew I would win. Who thinks Clooney is the best Batman? He had a bat credit card for crying out loud!” He smiled as you ranted about how Batman would even apply for a credit card and the unlikelihood of him having a social security number without giving away his identity. Sure, Namjoon had never seen this particular Batman movie, or any to be fair, but the way you passionately discussed the superhero was so endearing to him that he couldn’t help nodding along enthusiastically at each point you made, giggling as he did so.

“Okay. I have not seen that movie, but that sounds hilarious.” He commented as he finished the last of the wine in his glass.

“What? It is a cinematic meme masterpiece! We have to watch it!”

_________________________________

That’s how you ended up watching Batman and Robin, a second bottle of wine open on the coffee table. You hadn’t imagined that’s how you’ll be spending the next few hours with Namjoon. In fact, you did not want to impose your nerdy views on him at all, but tipsy you had other ideas. He seemed to be enjoying the movie too, laughing justly at the bat nipples and stupid ice puns. However with each corny flirt Poison Ivy threw at one of the many men on screen, you couldn’t help but notice how closely you were sitting next to a man hotter than any on your television. He had his arm around your shoulders and your head rested slightly on his chest, engulfed in his woodsy scent. You couldn’t help but steal glances at him, resisting the urge to reach up and kiss his jaw where it rested on his hand.

You had wanted to kiss him the moment he walked in the door with flowers in hand. No date had ever brought you flowers before and it set your heart aflutter. If he was any more perfect, you’d be worried you had imagined him and that you’d wake up from a very long, very surreal dream. The next time you glanced up at him you found him looking at you, a soft smile on his face, his dimples looking extra cute as he looked into your eyes.

Feeling uncharacteristically bashful, you smiled back at him, willing yourself not to avert his gaze. “Hi,” you muttered.

“Hi” His deep voice reverberated through your body and before you could tell your heart to stop thudding at your chest, Namjoon closed the space between you. His lips were slightly chapped as he brushed them against yours gently -  unrushed and soft. He took his time, his lips dancing around yours as if in a practiced waltz, as he moved his hand to your cheek, thumb stroking your cheekbones. Before you could deepen the kiss, you separated, much to your disappointment and he went back to watching the movie.

“Oh look! It’s the credit card scene.” He said nonchalantly as if he had not just taken your breath away.

“Joon! This movie is stupid,” you whined as you reached for his face, but before you could reach it he grabbed your wrist.

“But it’s a cinematic meme masterpiece!” He teased you with your earlier comment, his eyes lit with mirth. 

You pouted in defiance. “You can’t just kiss me like this and expect me to go back to watching the movie.”

“Aww! Cute!” He cooed as you huff, but before you could protest further, he kissed you again. Unlike the first time, this kiss was fierce, sparking a need in you. His lips pressed firmly against yours as his arm moved from around you to maneuver you on top of his lap. He did not hold back as he kissed you with a yearning you felt pulsate through you. He coaxed his way into your mouth as you didn't hesitate for a second, your hands running through the hair at the nape of his neck.

His hands were on your hips and as he pulled you closer you couldn’t help but roll your hips on him, feeling him hardening under you, a moan escaping from your mouth into his. Your dress was almost pulled to your waist and the rough material of his jeans felt delicious against your lace panties. You couldn’t help but roll your hips again, wanting him much closer than he already was.

“Baby you can’t do that to me.” He whined, his voice heavy with desire, as he started placing kisses down your face to your neck.

“Why not?” Your eyes spoke of challenge as you once again grind on him, a light moan escaping your lips, teasingly.

He stops kissing you as he looks up at you sternly, his jaw jutting out slightly. “Because I’m trying to be a gentleman here.”

“Fuck that. Let’s be b-” 

Before you can finish your sentence, he is spinning you around to lay you on the couch, hovering above you, your legs on either side of his body. Your head is caged between his arms, your dress barely covering your panties, as he smirks at you before rocking his hip against you, eliciting a loud gasp from you.

“Are you sure?” He asks as he kisses your neck, softly biting in a way that you’re sure there will be marks tomorrow, before soothing it with his tongue.

“Yes” you whisper as you reach down to palm him over his pants, making him groan where he’s kissing behind your ear.

“Fuck… Can I take this off?” His hand is on the zipper of your dress and as soon as you nod, he is pulling it down, increasing his force when it gets caught. Suddenly he stops, his eyes wide with alarm. Leaning up slightly you follow his gaze to his hand where he holds your zipper, no longer attached to the dress. He looks like a kid that broke an expensive vase in a store and you can’t help but laugh.

“Oh shit! I’m sorry!” The more he apologizes, the more you laugh at the situation, tears filling up your eyes. How could he be sexily growling in your ear one moment, making you drench your panties, and be this adorably guilty looking the next? Pushing him off you stand up and coax the rest of the zip down, letting the dress pool at your feet, as you grab his hand, urging him to stand up.

“Let’s go to the bedroom.” You lead him across the hall to your bedroom, and he quickly recovers from his blunder, wrapping himself behind you as he continues to kiss your neck and face.

“I’ll buy you a new dress! Sorry!” He says as you sit down at the end of your bed.

“Joonie, stop apologizing and fuck me.” You pull at his shirt, and thankfully he gets the hint, smoothly taking it off and throwing it beside you with a quick “Yes, ma'am.” You are mesmerized by his body, as you trace your hands up to his toned chest, thanking the god you didn’t believe in for this moment. Smirking at your adoration, he kisses you again, pushing you to lie down with his arm around your waist as he pushes you further up the bed till your head hits the pillows.

He continues kissing you as you run your hands over his chest and back, wanting to consume all of him. “Mmm, you’re so beautiful.” He moans as he kisses down your neck to your chest, rubbing himself on you, his fingers lingering at the waistband of your panties. He looks to you for consent and seeing your enthusiastic nod, he pulls them down, groaning at your arousal that liberally coats them.

“Baby, you’re so wet.” He whispers, amazed as if you had any other choice considering his earlier teasing. He kisses your lips again as his fingers slide against your lips teasingly, making you rut your hips against his hand in an effort to feel him inside.

“Joonie, please. Stop teasing” You whine against his lips, and thankfully he does, pushing one finger inside, making you cry out as you tip your head back against the pillows. Taking advantage of your angled head he presses his lips to your neck, leaving another hickey as one finger becomes two, deliciously stretching you and making you clench against him. Your head is cloudy with endorphins as he curls his fingers expertly thrusting in you, filling the room with your wanton moans. He kisses up to your ear, nibbling a little at your lobe.

“I want to taste you.” His voice is heavy with want and it sends a shiver up your spine. You clench around his fingers in anticipation as he kisses down your body, pulling your bra cups down to pay extra attention to your hardened nipples. His bangs brush against your skin raising goosebumps as he places multiple small pecks on your soft belly before reaching his destination.

“Look here, baby.” He says and as soon as you make eye contact, he pulls out his fingers, placing them in his mouth sucking on them with a groan, making heat rise up your neck. “You’re fucking delicious.”

Your heart is about to explode out of your chest and you can’t help but squirm but he holds your legs apart, slowly kissing each inner thigh as he takes his time. He really has a knack for teasing, and you wouldn’t complain if not for the aching between your legs. You’re desperate for him.

Finally, he lays on his stomach, his long legs dangling off the bed, as he holds your gaze, grinning, before giving you a long lick, making you shudder. He moans into you as he continues his long licks, your fingers making their way to his hair.

He focuses his attention on your clit, sucking and increasing his speed. No one has eaten you out like this. You remember after drinks with your friends claiming that it sucked that you were straight because guys always suck at eating pussy. Oh how wrong you were, you thought as Namjoon added his fingers back into the mix, thrusting as his tongue lapped at your clit, making you see stars. You could feel the familiar heat in your core as you tugged his hair, making him groan, a chant of his name on your lips as you feel yourself becoming undone. Your toes curl into the comforter below you as your legs shake screaming his name. He coaxes you though your orgasm, slowing his thrusts and licking you clean as you come down. When you could feel the overstimulation, you called his name, lightly stroking his hair. You kind of felt bad for pulling on it that tightly earlier.

He wiped his face as he came up towards you, smiling triumphantly. He kissed you and you could taste yourself on his lips. 

“You did so well for me, baby.” You had never been praised for orgasming and although you had just cum you felt yourself getting wet all over again. You kissed him again, reaching to undo his jeans and struggling.

“Are you sure? We can stop here if you want.” Namjoon says against your lips.

“Shut up and get naked, Joon” you huff against his lips as he chuckles, flipping on his back next to you to undo his pants and pulling them off along with his boxers. You bite your lip as you see his cock emerge, bouncing against his stomach, his head dripping precum. Your mouth waters as you undo your bra, tossing it to the side, before reaching for his generous length. He hisses as your thumb runs over the tip, and you use the precum to stroke him slowly.

Suddenly, he grabs your wrist, stopping your exploration. “I’m going to cum if you don’t stop.”

You peck his lips as he lets go, turning around and reaching out for the condoms in your bedside drawer. Ripping the packet open, you pinch the tip, smirking as you place it in your mouth, enjoying the way his eyes widen in surprise as you stroke him twice before using your lips to encase his length in latex. 

“Holy fuck. You’re perfect.” He grabs your face as soon as you’re done and kisses you fiercely as he once again lays you under him. His length rubs against your clit, sending jolts of pleasures up your spine as you rut your hips upwards. Getting the hint, he grabs his cock and lines it to your entrance. Your insides flutter as you feel him run his tip between your folds collecting your arousal, making you mewl a weak “please”. His face is flushed and his eyes are dark as he guides himself in smoothly, both of you moaning at the pleasure. The stretch is unbelievable, and you close your eyes as the sensation.

He waits a beat for you to accommodate him and as soon as you nod, he pulls back to thrust in again. Slowly he builds up to a rhythm that has you both panting. The room is full of the sounds of your bodies colliding and heavy breaths. You open your eyes to see him with his tongue between his lips and his jaw clenched. The same look of concentration he had when he was writing his songs in your office last night, and you felt yourself clench around him in pleasure. He moaned lowly and it was like you could feel his voice travel through you.

“Oh my god, Joon!” you cried as he changed his angle, hitting your g-spot directly, and increased his speed, thrusting harder.

“I got you, baby. I got you.” He reached for your hand and intertwined your fingers, pressing his forehead against yours, pressing kisses against your cheeks. You could feel yourself getting close again as he continued his pace, and by the way his grip on your hand tightened you could tell he was getting there too. You wrapped your legs around him as he started to get sloppier, getting lost in chasing pleasure.

“Cum for me baby, please.” He pleaded as his fingers reached between you to tease your clit, shooting waves of pleasure through you. He sucked on your neck and the sensation was too much. You feel yourself tighten around him and he groans as the tension building in your stomach snaps, making you cum hard around him, his name on your tongue as your fingers dig into his back.

He fucks you through your orgasm, hard and fast, before cumming himself with a loud groan and collapsing on you. Your bodies panting in unison as you both try to catch your breath. You’re both still holding hands, as he sweetly kisses your cheek, before pulling himself off of you, discarding the condom in the trash can, and laying back next to you. After you both calm down, he speaks staring at the ceiling.

“Do you have cameras in here?”

“What?” You are confused as you turn to look at him.

“Wouldn’t wanna make a sex tape on our second date.” He laughs, turning on his side and wrapping his arm around your waist.

“Oh my god. I hate you.” You playfully swat at his chest.

“Nah, you like me.” He grins, kissing the tip of your nose as you roll your eyes. “But it’s okay because I really like you too.”

“You are so cheesy!” you groan, but your face flushes at his words, your heart dancing in your chest. “I’m going to pee.”

“No, stay.” He whines pulling you close to his chest. You oblige him for all of two minutes, before grabbing his shirt from the end of the bed, putting it on, grabbing a fresh pair of panties, and making your way to the ensuite.

When you return you find him still on your bed, albeit in his boxers now, lying amongst your many pillows with his hands behind his head. Hearing your footsteps, he turns to you and smiles, reaching his hand out to pull you in with him. Cuddling you into his chest, he pulls the comforter over the two of you.

“You’re staying?” You hadn’t expected him to stay and you felt your heart warm at the way he did not rush to leave after sex. You knew he wasn’t the kind of person to just be in it for the sex, but it was your second date so you had kept your expectations low.

“Do you not want me to?” He asks with a pout, stiffening, and you could hear how fast his heart was beating.

“Please stay.” You snuggled closer to him, wrapping your arms around him, as you felt him relax and kiss the top of your head. “Want to see something cool?”

He hummed as you asked your google home to show you the sky. It was a dumb impulse purchase you made after a week of late nights of work at home and you hadn’t had the opportunity to show it off yet. You watched his mouth open in awe as the connected device turned off all the lights in your room and projected the milky way on to your ceiling. You chuckled at his child-like reaction. After talking to him this much, you were kind of sure that this would be how he’d act. You were pretty similar and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t had the same reaction when you first saw the constellations on your ceiling. He was quiet for a while, taking in the view and the only way you knew he was awake was by the way his hand softly caressed your hair.

“Hey Y/N. Do you ever think how crazy it is that we met?” His voice was almost a whisper as he turned on his side to look at you. Turning to face him, you placed your hand on his cheek as he continued. “Like you would have to make a company at the perfect time, get your contract with Samsung, decide to move to Korea, convince my boss to sign with you, and then throw that gala, and at the same time I would have to decide to be a rapper, sign to this company, make it big at the right time, come across your non-profit at the right time, and successfully convince Bang PD to let us go to your event. Isn’t that crazy how all those little decisions led to this?”

You were stunned. You had never thought about it that way. How everyone you met was by such a coincidence, how you met Joon was such a coincidence. The way he phrased it made it seem like fate. Maybe it was.

“You forgot about the part where I almost didn’t let you come to the gala.” You joked. You knew he was being serious, but your internal defense mechanisms were in full gear. You didn’t know why you were making light of his beautiful statement, but you felt if you didn’t, you’d fall for him even further and you weren't ready for that.

“What do you mean?” He chuckled, his hand rubbing circles into your waist.

“Your team asked me four hours before the gala that you were coming.” He snorted at your response. “You’re lucky Jiyoung is a fan.”

“Well, then I’ll send a thank you card to her.” He gazed at you adoringly as he pulled you closer. “You know I wasn’t joking earlier… I really like you.”

“I really like you too, Joon.” you whispered as he captured your lips into a kiss. You both continued discussing the coincidences that had to align for you to meet, stealing kisses as you drift off to sleep. 

Wrapped up in his arms, with the twinkling stars on your ceiling, it was the best sleep you had had in a long while.

____________________

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[abadmeanman]

Miraculous Ladybug Secret Santa gift for @supergirl9130 ! Happy holidays, courtesy of @mlsecretsanta.

Ao3 link above, and text below:

Ladybug’s yo-yo twirled in a nearly-opaque circle, deflecting the blast of lightning before it could so much as rumple Nino’s cravat. Her save was so impressive that Nino was - temporarily - relieved that he’d actually decided to wear the cravat. It was awkward to don the accessory, sure, but the extra-spruced-up look he was sporting made him look dapper as all get out, and upped the drama of being saved by Ladybug. Sure, getting dramatically electrocuted by a lightning bolt so that your skeleton shows through your skin is bad and everything, but how much worse would it be if it also ruined your whole look? Just another way to add just a teensy bit more of a zip to the thrill of getting rescued by Ladybug. 

*Click*

And of course, thought Nino, it did make him look even better on camera.

… Or perhaps, though Nino immediately afterwards, he’s been spending far too much time around fashion people.

“Oh hell yes! Thanks, Ladybug, that was an amazing tableau!” said Alya, still snapping away with her date night camera. It was smaller than her professional camera, but not by much; just about the largest size that could fit in a “grandma purse” (Alya’s words, not Nino’s). At least she hadn’t brought the zoom lens tonight; the restaurant they had reservations at was pretty fancy, after all, and they tended to frown on people with meter-and-a-half-long audiovisual equipment cases in their dining room. Something of a tripping hazard, clear fire exit access, et cetera.

Their erstwhile savior looked over her shoulder at them, heaving a superpowered sigh.

“For the last time,” said Ladybug, knowing for a fact it wouldn’t be. “I do not save people in front of you just so you can get good action shots!” She punctuated her reprimand (such as it was) with between thirty and forty back handsprings and a sliding dodge under a DHL truck. “This is a coincidence! Just like every previous time!” she added, as she slid into a Fiat and made it look cool. 

“Absolutely, my Lady,” said Chat Noir, as he bonked an above-water iceberg away from the trio with a well-timed staff extension. “But it’s still a nice sentiment, no?” He leaned on his cane, silhouetting himself in pose against the backdrop of a magically-conjured akuma glacier, smashed haphazardly into an office building. In the background, Ladybug luckied up a charm, as she rolled her eyes. 

Not one to waste an opportunity, Alya spun to see what angles he had to work with (plenty) and capture his good side (either one).

“See, now that is a superhero who knows how to appreciate my talents,” said Alya, sticking her tongue out at Ladybug. “Maybe I’ll give him the good photo spread this time.”

“You know I’m fine with that!” said Ladybug, as she retrieved a red-and-black-spotted Slap-Chop™ from where it had appeared mid air. “But could you please take cover or something? This Stormy Weather is even worse than the last one.”

“Remains to be seen,” said Chat Noir. “And I believe that she was quite adamant that we call her Stormy Weather 3: Tokyo Drift.” 

“I’m not doing that,” said Ladybug, squinting and glancing around the battlefield. “Chat, get those two civilians out of the way somewhere - like maybe that romantic, candle-lit restaurant, or something.”

Nino was pretty sure he was the only one who noticed her wink at him.

--- 

“Oh hell yes,” said Alya, snapping away as Ladybug saved Nino’s adorable skin from a lightning blast. Flipping back through her camera roll with the dexterity of long practice, she found a few snaps that were particularly satisfying - Nino looking both cute and startled witless, and Ladybug looking (as always) resplendent. “Thanks, Ladybug! That was an amazing tableau.” 

“For the last time, I do not save people in front of you just so you can get good action shots!” said Ladybug, doing exactly that. “This is a coincidence, just like every previous time!” Saying that, she executed some of her traditional superpowered acrobatics, deftly avoiding damages and strikes - and they were all captured by sequential snaps of Alya’s shutter. 

“Absolutely, my Lady,” said Chat Noir. “But it’s still a nice sentiment, no?” With a deft flick of his baton, he transferred an iceberg from dead ahead, to slightly to the side, where it landed (completely safely) on an unoccupied city bus. There was always an unoccupied city bus when you needed it; one of the nicest things about Paris. A city bus getting crushed was so banal that Alya ignored it entirely, choosing instead to snap a few shots of Ladybug’s lucky charm; it looked like it was a red-and-black-spotted Slap-Chop™. “Sure, why not,” said Ladybug under her breath, just within Alya’s range to hear.

Alya smirked, because it was time to be a little bit insufferable at her favorite hero.

“See, now that is a superhero who knows how to appreciate my talents,” said Alya, gesturing at Chat Noir and snapping a few glamour shots of him. The feline fella was surprisingly good at working the camera, almost enough to make one wonder… Nah, nevermind, probably no need to make any connections about that fact. “Maybe I’ll give him the good photo spread this time.”

“You know I’m fine with that!” said Ladybug, puzzling over her lucky charm. “But could you please take cover or something? This Stormy Weather is even worse than the last one.” Still furrowing her brow, she lightly kicked a spare minivan into the path of a narrowly-focused hailstorm, protecting Nino almost on autopilot.

“Remains to be seen,” said Chat Noir. With a shrug, he extended his baton, moving to intercept the akuma victim’s next attack. “And I believe that she was quite adamant that we call her Stormy Weather 3: Tokyo Drift.” 

“I’m not doing that,” said Ladybug. “Chat, get those two civilians out of the way somewhere - like maybe that romantic, candle-lit restaurant, or something.” In an instant, Chat gave her a little salute, and turned to swoop Nino and Alya up with his staff, hefting it onto his shoulders with what was probably a small purr of effort. At a brisk jog, he hoofed them in the opposite direction of the villain, giving them both a smile.

Alya was pretty sure she was the only one who noticed him wink at her.

--- 

It had taken a little getting used to, but Nino’s favorite dates with Alya were always the ones where they got interrupted by an akuma attack, and often relocated by Paris’ preeminent superheroes. Something about the combination of danger, romance, sheltering-in-place turning into cuddling-in-place, or similar factors just really brought everything together to an ideal evening of intimacy.

Maybe it was an aftershock of their early relationship, when they’d gotten together after Ladybug had hurled them into a panther enclosure. 

… Or the time Chat Noir had secreted them away in the cool (and not creepy) part of the Paris catacombs, while Grim Brulee menaced the city.

… Or when they’d been sequestered in Gustave Eiffel’s office at the top of his titular tower, delivered on a magical yo-yo zipline, as the Arch Architect rearranged the Paris skyline.

… Or perhaps even the time they’d gotten deposited on top of Oscar Wilde’s tomb for some reason, during the second Stormy Weather attack - better known to Parisians as the terror of 2 Stormy 2 Weather.

Regardless, every time Ladybug or Chat Noir spirited them out of harm’s way and into a safe (if not always romantic in the strictest sense) locale, their time together there was always excellent. Whether it was an actual restaurant, or a great view, or a spooky ambiance, they were some of his favorite moments with Alya. She even stopped talking about Ladybug and Chat Noir, eventually! Usually. 

So, it didn’t take Nino long to come up with a proposal. 

---

Exactly as they’d planned, Chat Noir sent Alya sliding down the Chat-baton and directly into the well-cushioned seat of the bistro. A waiter - no stranger to akuma attacks mid-service - was already placing a menu in front of her before she’d had a chance to smooth out her blouse, and Nino had already ordered appetizers and was going to town on a breadstick. 

Akumas had ceased being a meaningful threat to Parisians years ago, after all. Hawk Moth had clearly lost a bit of his zing, if the three hundred and eighty consecutive Mr. Pigeon attacks indicated anything… anything more than Mr. Ramier’s consistent disregard of public park rules, or Officer Roger’s stick-up-the-assedness, at least.

“Well, this place seems pretty safe,” said Alya, holding back a smirk. “And it looks like LB and CN are directing the akuma to other parts of the city.” Next to her, a silvery baton thunked down onto the table, having extended from dozens of meters away. Her purse slid down it, and she grabbed it without looking. “Thank you!” she said over her shoulder. 

“You’re welcome, anonymous citizen I don’t know!” said someone in the distance, who may or may not have been a superhero, as she checked her purse for some odd or end.

She turned to her boyfriend with a sneaky little smile. “Wowie. We barely made it out of there alive. What a lucky break, right Nino?”

“Yeah, totally, girlfriend-dude, and it’s also super coincidental, is what I think. Anyways I hear the scallops are like, totally dope here.” He put down his menu and looked at her, very seriously. “We’d better take some time to relax and unwind after that totally jarring experience. Dang, I guess we better probably have dinner as a part of that huh.”

“Right you are,” said Alya. “I’m practically quivering in my heels. And I think I will try the scallops, thank you for the suggestion.” 

The mark of a very lovely date can often be that few details stick in your mind, but that the feeling of the entire night is unquestionably thrilling. As Alya discovered that the scallops were, indeed, totally dope, and as Nino sampled a wide array of crudites, the specifics blended and blurred, and became the comfortable warmth of a very lovely evening, with very lovely company, in a very lovely relationship. And thanks to the superheroes saving Paris on the other side of town, there was nary an interruption. 

---

Three hours later, a trenchcoated Nino met a similarly-attired, and nominally anonymous individual, in a darkened alley, guarding a slightly-steaming paper box. 

“I hope you found our arrangement… satisfactory. Do you have the payment?” asked the mysterious figure, from beneath their mysterious noir fedora and popped trenchcoat collar. A pair of blue-black pigtails poked out the back, where hat and coat met, and as the mysterious figure reached out an eager hand towards Nino, a slice of moonlight through a gap in the clouds illuminated red gloves, with black spots. 

Nothing notable about that.

“Yeah, Lady-dude, no problem,” said Nino, as nonchalantly as possible. “I mean, uh, no problem, anonymous stranger.”

“What is it this time?”

“Fritters. There are some plain ones, but the ones without the holes have apple in ‘em. Hope they turned out well, dude. And like, excellent work as always.” He winked, placing the box in the mysterious figure’s hand. 

Said figure leaned over, giving the box a good sniff, revealing a bit more mask in the light of the moon. She inhaled deeply, savored, and sighed. Fritters - apple especially - were one of her favorites. Nothing wrong with a little fried dough.

“Same deal next time?” asked the mysterious and anonymous figure in a red-with-black-spots superhero suit and pigtails, tucking the box under her arm and pulling her yo-yo out of the trenchcoat’s pocket. “Where were you thinking?”

“Oh yeah totally, tonight was super great. Could you maybe, uh, shepard us into the 8:00 showing of Rhinoceros at Theatre Montparnasse, on Saturday? And… make it look like a coincidence.”

“Of course. I’m a professional, after all. Me and my… associate… will see to it that you are able to safely take cover, and get entertained by a little theater of the absurd while you’re at it, no problem.” She reached out her hand, taking Nino’s and giving it a firm shake. “The pact is sealed.”

“It’s still hilarious that you always say that, dude,” said Nino, watching his not-so-mysterious contact yo-yo away across the rooftops of Paris. 

---

Across the city - exactly one alleyway across, to be precise - Alya was hurrying away from her dead drop spot where she’d left the parcel, in its insulated wrapping. Moments later, and even more nonchalantly, a nondescript figure in horn-rimmed glasses with a fake nose and mustache attached retrieved the innocuous package, holding it under a completely unremarkable arm that may or may not have been wearing magical superhero leather. 

The completely mundane figure adjusted his cat ears under the completely mundane beret he was wearing, and took a seat on a local park bench.

Which just so happened to be placed back-to-back up against another park bench that Alya happened to be sitting on, nonchalantly reading a newspaper.

“Did you… find what you were looking for?” she said, speaking to the empty park rather than the person on the bench behind her and to the left.

“I did,” said the mysterious figure, flipping out his own newspaper and pretending to read it. “I take it my performance tonight met all of your expectations?” He raised an eyebrow - Alya could practically hear it in the tone of his voice.

“Eminently so,” said Alya. “Same deal for next time?”

The figure nodded, then remembered that the person he was conversing with wasn’t looking in his direction. “Certainly. My… sources… suggest a theatrical engagement next Saturday. After the play, well… I’m open to suggestions.”

Alya tapped her chin in thought.

“See to it that we have an uninterrupted path from the theater to that new cafe where you get to hang out with owls. I trust you’ll find this satisfactory,” she said, casually dropping a slip of paper onto the bench seat behind her. Just as casually, the mysterious figure retrieved it, examined it, and nodded because of it.

“The arrangement continues.”

“This conversation never happened.”

With nothing further spoken, they went their separate ways, one completely normal blogger and one completely unremarkable man with cat ears in black leather launching into the night off of a silver baton.

---

“Think we should tell them?”

“Ever? Sure. Soon? Nah,” said Chat Noir, twirling another one of Nino’s fritters around his finger. It was his fifth, but calories don’t count when you’re superheroing. “I think this is one of those ‘leave it all ambiguous’ kinda things. If we don’t say anything, they can always pretend it’s a coincidence.”

“Mmi guepmhs you’re rmphght,” said Ladybug, agreeing around a mouthful of guava sorbet - Alya’s bribe for tonight’s shuttle service. She swallowed and made a contented sound. “Do you think we’re playing it up a little too much? I’m worried they might catch on.”

“Also nah,” said Chat Noir. “It’s going to be much funnier when they realize they’ve both been patting themselves on the back for setting up their little dates.”

“Can’t argue with that,” said Ladybug. “Though I do feel a tiny bit guilty that we’re playing both sides here.”

“Just a tiny bit?”

“... Maybe a teensy tiny bit,” she said after another spoon of sorbet. “They’d probably still make treats for us even if they knew, right?”

“Ah, the sweet mysteries of love.” Chat Noir reclined back against the rooftop with a sigh. “Anyways, what did he promise you for next date night?”

“Chebaika. It’s a fried dough thing with honey and sesame seeds, and it’s apparently really good. What did Alya say she’d get you?”

“Coconut blancmange, with passionfruit and mango. She showed me a picture, and it looked incredible.”

They licked their lips and imagined, for a moment. Then, they looked at each other, thoughts synchronized as tightly as during any akuma fight.

“... You’re gonna share, right?” 

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ @sasuhinabigflash2020​​ || Day Three: Don’t Laugh ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Orochimaru ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Like Magic ] [ AO3 Link ]

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Another September...another year at Hogwarts.

Sitting in a train compartment with a few other Hufflepuffs she vaguely knows, Hinata mostly just daydreams about arriving at the school. Because despite the fact that she’s now a third year, Hinata has...well, very few friends. And with her nature as a wallflower, she’s often overlooked, anyway.

So, it’s mostly classes and learning that she enjoys during her time away from home. And, well...being away from home.

But she tries not to think about that.

Instead, her excitement grows the closer they get to the school. And by the time they make it to the carriages, she almost bounces on her seat after giving the thestral pulling it a greeting pat.

She’s always been able to see them.

...she has her mother to thank for that.

The Great Hall is just as she remembers it, as is the feast. Clapping for every new addition to her house, Hinata gives them shy smiles, reminiscing over how nervous she’d been before being Sorted. Her father had been hopeful for Ravenclaw, his own house.

But, as usual, Hinata disappointed him.

The common room of the Hufflepuff dormitory is lively that evening, Hinata sitting along the edge and watching with a smile as the new Puffs are given the grand tour. Bright-eyed and slack-jawed, it’s clear they’re just as in awe as she was.

But she turns in early, wanting to be on time for her first class in the morning. Excitement and wistfulness, she knows, will mean sleep will be hard to come by. All the same, Hinata closes her eyes and does her best to relax.

And next thing she knows...it’s morning! The first out of bed, she dresses and dashes for the hall to get her breakfast, looking over her schedule yet again.

Oddly enough, the first class of the day is Potions.

It brings about a duality in feeling. On one hand, it’s a useful class. Given she wants to be an Herbologist someday, knowing what many of the plants she’ll be working with are for is good knowledge to have. But, on the other hand...the professor scares her. A slippery, sharp-eyed person she still doesn’t know the gender of. All she does know is that Professor Orochimaru scares the living daylights out of her. Which, most days, makes learning in their class rather...difficult.

They’re also set to have said class as a double with the Slytherin third years. While Hinata does her best not to be biased, there’s a handful of them that, admittedly, give her a rather bad feeling.

Still...it’s a necessary evil, either way. She’ll make due. Nothing can beat down her determination to learn all she needs to know. Not even creepy teachers or jeering classmates.

So, once breakfast is over, she fetches her book, her cauldron, and her ingredients...and heads down down down into the castle dungeons for Potions.

Thankfully, she isn’t the first one there, nor the only Puff. They all give each other subtle, knowing glances. Even if they aren’t close friends, they’re still allies in this rather...unfortunate predicament.

Not long before the bell, the professor emerges from their office, looking them all over with thinly-veiled disdain, while a glance to their Slytherin students earns a thin-lipped smile. “Welcome, third years, to our first Potions lesson of the year. Luckily for you, we are to begin with a brewing. If you’ll open your books to page seven…”

With that, the lesson begins, and everyone follows along as the potion in question is detailed.

“Now, to encourage a little...cross-house friendliness, I want each of you to find a brewing partner outside your house. You will be graded on whichever potion turns out least favorable, so you must work together. Slytherins, I expect you to help your Hufflepuff colleagues.”

Several Puffs manage half-hearted glares at the obvious jab, but do as they’re told. Most pairs sit across from one another, clearly wanting to be as far apart as possible.

Hinata, finishing up her notes, finds herself to be one of the last without a partner until - of his own volition - one takes the other seat, making her jump.

“Calm down, I’m not going to hex you,” he drawls, setting down his things. “Are you Hufflepuffs always so on-edge?”

“I...I didn’t see you come over,” Hinata mumbles in explanation, turning a flustered pink. “...um...I’m Hinata,” she then offers. “Hinata...Hyūga.”

At that, his head snaps up, eyes wide. “...Hyūga?”

Oh dear, here we go. “Y...yes.”

“...pleasure. Sasuke Uchiha,” he greets, holding out a hand for her to gingerly shake. “I didn’t know there was a Hyūga in Hufflepuff.”

That gets her to shift a bit. “My, um...I have a cousin, he’s - he’s in Ravenclaw.”

“Neji, right? I’ve heard of him. Decent Chaser.”

“...you play Quidditch?”

“Team Seeker,” he replies with a smirk, clearly happy with his position.

“Oh...I-I don’t play, but um...I-I watch matches when I can. Mostly Neji’s and...my house’s.”

“Hufflepuff usually doesn’t fare well, does it?”

She quiets. “...I guess not. I...don’t pay the standings much mind. O-or houses. I just...keep to...myself…” Her tone fades to a somber silence.

To her surprise, Sasuke looks at her strangely, expression one she can’t read. “...it’s not for everyone,” he then replies nonchalantly. “What do you like, then?”

“Herbology!” At her sudden, loud reply, Hinata flushes pink again. “I-I mean...I like...herbology…”

“Never been much good with plants myself,” he replies, beginning to measure ingredients as Hinata fumbles to do the same. “I like Potions. Transfiguration isn't bad, either.”

“Charms is...is one I enjoy.”

“Not really my speed, but that’s all right.” Rifling through his bag, he then frowns. “...do you have a spare rat tail, by any chance? I could have sworn I brought one…”

“Um…” Fishing in her own, Hinata hands him one.

“Thanks. I’ll pay you back.”

“It - it’s fine.”

“Fair’s fair,” he counters, sounding resolute as he adds it.

A bit taken aback, Hinata watches him for a moment before smiling.

Maybe not all Slytherins are jerks.

They keep on for a time, double-checking one another’s work as they go. Sasuke’s right: he’s good at this, catching a few mistakes she nearly makes and making her blush in embarrassment every time. But for some reason he’s patient with her.

“All right, next is...powdered dragonfly chitin,” he notes, taking out a vial and unstopping it. “Apparently this makes it pretty volatile, so do it slowly, all right?”

Hinata nods, cautiously measuring the right amount and sprinkling it bit by bit into her cauldron. Small sparks fly every time it impacts, and she can’t help but flinch back.

And then, the unthinkable happens.

Sasuke sneezes.

Right over the top of his spoon.

Causing the entire load to fall in at once.

With a flash, a cloud of smoke and sparks rises up from the brew, drawing every eye in the classroom, including the professor’s.

Wide-eyed, Hinata leans back as the din clears, Sasuke coughing and trying to wave it away.

...his eyebrows are gone.

Clearly completely unaware, he squints against the smell of burnt potion, face sooty. “...see what I mean?” he manages to note with another cough.

“S...Sasuke…?”

“What?”

“Your…?” She hesitantly points at her own brow.

Reaching up, Sasuke feels at his, slowing to a stop as he feels not hair, but smooth skin.

The entire dungeon is silent.

Looking to Hinata in equal surprise, he moves his hand to point to her. “Don’t...you dare...laugh.”

Staring, stupefied, Hinata only feels the urge as he speaks, drawing her lips between her teeth.

“Hyūga…”

Her head shakes.

“I’m warning you.”

“Given that your potion is now completely ruined, mister Uchiha,” Orochimaru then cuts in, “you might as well go the hospital wing for those little burns on your cheeks. And seeing as your partner is finished with a…” The Slytherin head of house leans over her cauldron, looking mildly impressed. “...adequate potion, I will average your grades...and she can accompany you to make sure you don’t blow anything else up on the way.”

Looking entirely annoyed, Sasuke clears his cauldron with a wave of his wand, packing up as Hinata bottles a sample to be fully graded, then doing the same and scurrying after him.

“You don’t need to escort me.”

“But...but the professor said -?”

“The professor can kiss my ass,” Sasuke growls, making Hinata stumble at the sudden coarse language. “It was the last step! We both had it perfect! I just -!”

“I-it’s okay! Maybe...maybe we can have a do-over, if...if we ask nicely?”

“Tch, fat chance of that.”

Chastised, Hinata nonetheless keeps up, giving him the occasional glance. His face is still smudged with soot, but...she can’t take her eyes off his bare brows.

“Something funny?”

“N-no! I...I’m sorry that happened...do your cheeks hurt?”

“...a bit. I’ll be fine. Five minutes in the hospital wing and I’ll be right as rain. Maybe I’ll even get my eyebrows back.”

Before she can stop it, Hinata looses a snort.

“...I told you not to laugh.”

“I’m sorry, it just s-slipped out!”

To her surprise, then does the same. “It’s fine, Hyūga. At least you know what I meant about the chitin now, right?”

“Y...yeah.”

Thankfully they take Sasuke right in, and Hinata - not knowing what else to do until the period ends - lingers awkwardly outside until he’s released.

And with both eyebrows, to boot.

“You didn’t have to wait.”

“Well, um...I-I didn’t want to go back,” she admits sheepishly.

“Me neither. Think I’ll just get a head start to my next class.”

“That’s...a good idea.”

Glancing to her thoughtfully, Sasuke offers, “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Hyūga.”

That gets her to jolt a bit in surprise. “I...yes! I...I guess you will.”

“And I won’t lose my eyebrows next time.”

Her lips curl before she thinks to hide them behind a sleeve cuff.

Smirking back at her, he gives a mock salute. “Later, Hyūga.”

“...bye!” Waving as he retreats, Hinata checks her schedule. Transfiguration next, single class. Hopefully this one is a bit less...eventful.

...but...well, maybe she’s finally making a friend.

And a Slytherin, to boot.

     ...well, so much for my doing these in decent time xD Here it is almost two am and I’m just posting...whoops.      Annnywho, some Harry Potter verse! With a shy Puff Hinata and a smug Slytherin Sasuke because of course. F in the chat for Sasuke’s eyebrows. Not gonna lie, this was fun to write xD I like this crossover, so I’ll try to do more of it if any further prompts make sense for it.      But on that note, I had a long day, so I’m gonna call it a night~ Thanks for reading, lovelies!

[bloodybells1]

Lucky Dog

                    No philosophers so thoroughly comprehend us as dogs and horses.

                                                                                            —HERMAN MELVILLE

I look into the eyes of an animal. 

I am in the habit of doing this with a little Brussels Griffon by the name of Casca, my canine, whose gentle orbs and spunk and flexibility make me forget that he is in fact a dog and not a cross between an Ewok and a Koala.

Not right now, though. These are different eyes, the ones of a Maltese crossed with a West Highland Terrier, peering through a curtain of matted hair draping over his brow, as he lays back on my futon. He has jumped up here as I lay down on it, after having flipped onto his back in a split second, in what seemed to have been a familiar move, so natural and quick. It was a gesture of near total compliance. He was egging me to stroke his belly. 

There was something deep about his gaze, somewhat simian in intelligence, communicating a kinship, but difficult to pin down. If this creature hadn’t the capacity to at least conceive of complex, putatively human emotions and other states of mind—like fear, relief, care, or pleasure—lacking only a verbal means to communicate them, then everything that I was seeing in his eyes, the layers of thought and feeling, were just a coincidence of Mother Nature, some thing that animals do which I don’t have access to, but which I insist I do in the form of anthropomorphization. 

Yet, that doesn’t seem possible: the facsimile is too close. These have to be the same things, or similar things, that we humans feel, that I am now sensing coming from this upturned canine lying on my lap on the futon.

At this point in the story, the dog’s name is Sammy. 

Sheri, the woman who’d found him on the street, had posted on the NextDoor forum hoping that someone might claim him. She’d grabbed him on the corner of Broadway and 177th. The dog was in a panic, chaotically searching for his owner, crossing the street with his leash in tow, and she’d scooped him up and brought him to her nearby apartment. Sheri’s domestic situation precluded a canine presence: she wanted to find the owner of the dog, but more urgently, she needed someone to foster him in the meantime. Otherwise, she’d have to put him in a shelter. My girlfriend Bernie and I had taken pity and responded, offering ourselves as foster parents for the interim. We’d hold him until the owner showed up or until he’d otherwise find a permanent home. 

We’d started calling him Buddy, but Sheri had asked he be named something with an “S,” so Bernie suggested “Sammy.” 

And Sammy is taking this house by storm.

As it turns out, I’d met Sheri once before, though neither of us know this during our Zoom call. She’s leaning back on the headboard of her bed with the soon-to-be monikered Sammy laying supine, his favorite position, by her side. Bernie’s been texting with Sheri and now she and I are talking to Sheri over Zoom to take a look at Sammy, who is all but glowing through the screen, despite his matted hair which, even on the call, looks as though it's never once been brushed. 

I’m having that funny feeling you get when someone seems familiar and you can’t quite place why, until later on in the conversation Sheri tells us her address and a little about her job and I put two and two together and realize she’s the wife of a good friend, a fellow actor and writer named Michael who lives in the neighborhood. I know that Michael’s wife is a make-up artist for various TV shows and—bam—the memory of having briefly met her outside her apartment building once before enters my head.

“Oh my God, this is going to sound creepy but I know who you are, Sheri. I know your husband. I know your son’s name. I’ve actually met your son. Benjamin, right? I’ve been to your house.”

Sheri’s jaw creeps open in amazement over the coincidence and I add with ironic omniscience, “I know everything about your life.” 

“Wait . . . what? For real?” Sheri is having a hard time processing all of the information but immediately knows what to do next, which is to walk out of her bedroom and open Michael’s study. My friend’s familiar bookshelves and wall art come into view of the camera.

“Honey, look who I have on Zoom.” 

Michael turns around and sees who’s on the other side and yells out my name, happy over the coincidence, as I am as well. 

We come right over to pick up Sammy and it’s a nice reunion during a bleak pandemic year when I’ve been seeing very little of people outside of my three-block radius. 

It seems that Sammy’s a bit of a good luck charm. He’s bringing people together. Bernie and I are taking him around the neighborhood, to the park just a block above our apartment and everyone is asking who this precious, white-haired creature is. 

“We don’t know!” we keep saying. “Our friend found him in the street.”

“Are you going to keep him?”

“We don’t think so.”

“But he’s getting along so well with Casca.”

Indeed he is. He’s friendly. But Sammy’s also timid and nervous. He is after all, a strange dog in a strange land. I can’t imagine what must be going through his head. Who are these strange people? What is this strange neighborhood? Where are my owners?

That’s the thing. The owners. 

We’re not so sure whether, in fact, there are any. We hear stories about how animals are often deposited in the city, right on the street, by callous owners with little patience—and little humanity—who then drive off and disappear, leaving the poor animals to be discovered by locals. 

Some of Sammy’s details align with those stories. He was discovered not far from the George Washington Bridge, which would lend credence to the account of a disinterested owner from some place in, say, Westchester, who’d decided that Sammy had become a liability they could no longer sustain and who had left him in Washington Heights just before taking the quick way out into New Jersey over the bridge. Sammy’s coat is also completely tangled, with small knots, very much like dreadlocks, peppered throughout, with dirt and lint encrusted within, which suggests a type of neglect that might align with the story of someone who no longer wanted him. He also smells profoundly of urine, though this is likely to have happened from having to spend a night alone, if that is even the case. We just don’t know. Finally, it is abundantly clear that Sammy has not been neutered.

But there’re other details that don’t lend credence to that story. It only takes a couple of hours with him to see that Sammy, who is responsive and trusting and loving, had been cared for deeply by whomever had had him. He was loved. A quick pull on his lower lip reveals pristinely clean teeth, as well. Yes, he’s nervous, and he keeps pulling on his leash like a caught snapper. Every time we walk him he juts around like he’s on a desperate hunt. He has an air of desperation, a vigilance for possibly familiar faces that might pop out any second. But he looks at you with an unmistakable sense of domesticity. And he’s clearly house trained. 

Sammy definitely has an owner. Someone who loves him. Of that we are certain. 

So then why was he running around on the street? Sheri says that when she grabbed him on the sidewalk he was so scared and confused that he jumped into a car, idling and double-parked, at random, surprising the passengers before being pulled back out by Sheri. It’s obvious that he was in a car just before he was lost. He’s looking at every car, every vehicle that passes by, almost as if to check the make and model, hoping against hope it’s the one that left him in this frightening place.

I think back to a woman I used to care for. I was volunteering for an agency, ComForCare, seeing to social needs for seniors, primarily those living alone. She lived in an elder care facility in the Upper West Side. She wasn’t all that much older, but she had a severe case of schizophrenia, for which she was heavily medicated. She was a lovely lady with a sense of humor and a deep appreciation of art. We used to go to the movies and to the Met. She had difficulty holding conversations for a sustained period and she hoarded. It had been bad enough that her old apartment had needed to be professionally cleaned out. I saw it once and was given a window into what real hoarding looks like: stacks of books up to the ceiling, along with opaque grime on the walls. Still, she was lucid and functional enough to be able to take her car out when she wanted to go for a drive, she could order food and sit through a movie and extemporize about it afterwards and she could use the bus if she needed to commute around the city. 

It occurred to me that, had she been moved to, she could have had a dog. She could’ve seen to its needs, fed it, stroked it, watered it, and otherwise cared for it. But the dog would, like Sammy, have borne traces of a style of care that is not regarded as, shall we say, complete. 

My theory was that someone with a condition misplaced him. There’re all sorts of humane concerns regarding cleanliness and desexing which take only a couple of Google searches to discover. Therefore, so I reasoned, though Sammy was loved, he nonetheless had been neglected, and only a mental illness may account for the discrepancy. This person likely became disoriented in an unfamiliar neighborhood; perhaps they’d needed to pull over unexpectedly, and hadn’t realized that all of a sudden Sammy wasn’t in the car and drove away. They hadn’t realized it until it was too late, and were now frantically searching around for him, most likely not able to make the right calls to the right places, for “obvious” reasons. The poor owner, I thought, unable to do the right thing. Or maybe they were about to make the call to us. Who really knew? We were just theorizing. 

Or maybe I had it all wrong and it was actually much simpler. Maybe the owner just straight up forgot about Sammy. 

Sheri’s put up fliers within a two-block radius of where she found Sammy. She’s gone into several vets office’s in the area with news of the found dog. Bernie takes a picture of Sammy on our couch, staring at the camera as though his owner might pop out of the lens. He looks lost, even though he’s been found. He is lost, of course; but we have found him. And we’re seeing to it that he gets to where he belongs. So we follow suit with Sheri’s efforts and post the picture of Sammy with a notice on the largest Facebook group for lost dogs in Manhattan. We also register him with a local shelter which will post his photo and his information on their website. We’re like scientists at the SETI Institute, sending out radio waves into the vast ether, expecting a response from the deep, hoping that if there’s anyone out there searching for us, they will now be able to find us.

We’ve given Sammy a much-needed bath. I didn’t want to just throw him into the bathtub after all that he’s been through, so I waited several smelly hours while he lay next to me before we scrubbed him down. He ran around the apartment like he had a rash, scraping and rubbing his body against any surface he could find, the bottom of the sofa, the rug, the futon, while we chased him around with a towel, trying our best to alleviate that weird feeling dogs get when they’re wet. Casca, ever the Ewok, just sits, enraptured by the sight, like an older brother watching from the sidelines. After Sammy calms down I do my best to brush his hair but the dreadlocks make a proper brushing impossible. Still, he looks much better. In light of everything else it’s pretty inconsequential, but I go ahead and schedule an appointment with Casca’s groomer. I want Sammy to look as spiffy as possible in case the owners don’t show and we need to start finding him a new home.

Bernie takes off from work and brings Sammy to the vet. We need to find out if he has a HomeAgain microchip, that tiny piece of tech injected in between a puppy’s two scapulae, often during the first vet visit, the universally recognized system for canine and feline identification. If he has a microchip, it will lead us to his owner. They could be just a phone call away. 

Bernie’s away for hours. Patients are not permitted inside the vet’s office during the pandemic and instead must wait outside while the dog is seen indoors. Vets are overloaded (everyone’s getting a dog for companionship during quarantine). Wait times are much longer than usual. She’s basically gone half the day. I’m sitting in the apartment with Casca, who is oddly quiet. I know him well enough to know the kind of quiet he’s in. It’s the “where’s Sammy” type. I have it too. I’m actually missing Sammy.

But it soon won’t matter that Sammy, indeed, has never been given a microchip. 

It’s the day after the vet visit and I’m sitting with Sammy in my study, his head resting on the futon by my side. Bernie comes in with the news: “Sheri says that the owners have contacted her.” 

My heart sinks. It’s Day Three of the Sammy Show and I take note of my awful disappointment, how crestfallen I now am, that the possibility he may be out of our lives very soon is here. 

“Sheri’s asking them questions, to prove they’re the rightful owners,” Bernie adds. 

“Yes,” I respond, in a tone not unlike hasty justice seekers at a trial convinced that the murderer has been found and that the jury must cast its verdict responsibly. “We need to see pictures and they have to confirm the color of his harness and leash.” 

I catch myself sounding stern and paternalistic, like an eye witness to the crime defying an alternative account. Who are these people claiming to be his owners? I’m not about to let him go. The killer has been found, I think to myself, Sammy was abandoned and justice demands that he be fostered and adopted. Whoever says otherwise—like the killer claiming innocence—has the burden of proof against them.

Sammy senses something’s afoot. We know this about him already. Earlier in the day Bernie had gone out on an errand and about a minute before she returned, Sammy had “sensed” that she was headed back and sat upright with his ears pricked. One of my favorite thinkers, a spiritualist-scientist by the name of Rupert Sheldrake, ran a study about this phenomenon and published his results in a book called, unironically, Dogs that Know When Their Owners are Coming Home. Apparently, it’s a thing, and Sammy, by my estimation, is particularly tuned to this frequency. 

He’s whining and agitated all of a sudden, as Bernie and Sheri are on the phone with each other to compare notes on the photos the owners claiming him have sent. He really knows something’s up when we bring his harness into the room to compare it with the photo. He’s hopping off and back on the futon in a restless state that seems to signify his premonition that the family he loves dearly is one step closer to him finally. This is a dog who has not let go of his owners and has stayed vigilant, even as he’s been nothing but a sweetheart during his stay, a stay that is now painfully coming to an end. 

The photos lineup perfectly. He looks a little different, but that’s because they were taken when he’d just been groomed. But his harness is identical. There’s no denying it. These are the owners. 

Bernie and I look at each other and shake our heads. Like some waking dream, we become aware of a journey, a kind of psychic binge, for which we’d previously had no awareness. Without knowing, we’d consented to fork over our brains and our hearts to go on an emotional rollercoaster, a ride that is now slowing down and edging into the landing bay. It had all been going too fast for us to take real notice of what it was all about. Only in the end do we now see that we’d lost ourselves. 

Now that we know that Sammy will be back with a family who loves him, whom he wants to be with more than us, that we are no longer Sammy’s protectors, we let the judgement rip: 

“What the hell? How do you lose a dog? I can’t believe this! This is so upsetting. The negligence!” 

Things go negative. 

It never mattered while he was in our charge. Negative thoughts were like passing clouds. We wanted to keep the skies clear for Sammy. He was our responsibility and we wanted to protect him. He’d already been through enough. So we didn’t care too much for passing judgement. After all, we weren’t even sure who these people were or what were the circumstances. It was all speculation. What mattered was Sammy’s safety. 

But the moment has arrived and therefore we feel free to be angry. We want justice for our pains. We want accountability. All of a sudden, we are keenly preoccupied with the wages of the vast emotions we have expended on Sammy. 

Then it passes, the initial blast of ire gives way to reason. We come to our senses. 

“Of course mistakes happen.”  

And who are we to judge? 

And so we are left with the brutal phenomenon, unadorned by the needs of the dog, the care which we’d now finally finished giving. He is safe now. We can be free to look after ourselves. The only thing that’s left is grief. 

“Tell them to come meet us as soon as possible,” I tell Bernie, meaning that she should tell Sheri, who’s in contact with them. They are desperate to get their dog back. A couple who live in New Jersey. The husband is texting with Sheri, begging to be allowed to pick him up. His family has been broken by the loss and he wants to heal, he says. I can’t deny the obvious show of vulnerability. I want the reunion to happen as soon as possible. But first I need to eat.

The tears flow down my cheeks swiftly. We finish dinner in silence as Sammy watches us patiently from the sofa. I have to look upwards to try to think of other things, to stay the onrush of salty teardrops. We gather our things and put on our coats and I almost lose it and let a couple quakes of my sternum pass through me before pulling myself together. 

It’s that old feeling again, like when my old boy Gaius passed two years ago from lymphoma after just having turned thirteen. That sudden loss. That sharp removal. The very quick evacuation of something within, and the consequent hollowness that emerges, as though you were a sack of something meaty and full, a container that held large books or hefty Christmas toys, only for that container to be suddenly relinquished of its contents, contents which evaporate somehow, now nowhere to be found, leaving you with a newfound emptiness. 

What is this bond, this decade-and-a-half long relationship that severs with such sudden brutality? 

Why do we do it, undertake to care for these creatures? Creatures, by the way, who inevitably will betray us with their short lives, and, furthermore, whom we shall likewise betray by replacing them with descendants after they die, with heirs to their vests and doggy bowls and chew toys and harnesses who are themselves doomed to renew the fifteen year cycle. We can’t refurbish our pets, so we hand them in to God and buy a new one from the breeder or adopt one from the shelter. They last as long as the average car, which we also replace with a shiny, new version. When Gaius passed I lasted only a month without a dog, unlike, say, some of my neighbors who could not live down the memory of their old dog, who could not so readily renew the pact. 

Sometimes I see my rush to replace as a sign of disingenuousness, for if the love were as true as I say to myself and the world that it in fact is, how could I replace my dog? Aren’t I lying to myself in thinking that Casca, who came into the house as a two-month-old ball of fur, practically on the heels of Gaius’ deathbed, receives an authentic love? Isn’t love more weighty? doesn’t it come with heavier strings? Are these just playthings that garner my obsession and adoration, but not my true heart? Isn’t this a fantasy? Aren’t they just animals, expendable lifeforms, just pets? When I exchanged those pregnant glances with Sammy on my futon, wasn’t I just staring into the eyes of a mere animal? 

There lies an epistemic gulf between Homo sapiens and Canis familiaris. It is a relation bereft of semiotics. They don’t even know what is happening around them. We, as their keepers, hold the light of truth, we grant them access to the benefits of our civilization, the very same benefits that first brought them to us, when scraps thrown from the Paleolithic hearth lured those friendlier wolves, those beasts who’d decided to sever their Darwinian program and break for the humans, who’d opted for the good life outside the law of the jungle and chose to linger with these powerful pack leaders in control of fire and food. They will never know any of this. Unlike our children, whom we may teach our ways, into whose brains we implant the needs of our legacies, whom we teach our languages and whose cooperation we induce, who will be free to continue it or change it or revolutionize it as will be their wish after we pass, our dogs share no such beneficence and will live out their days in the dark, their small brains incapable of absorbing the mandates of our times. Everything they live for dies with them. Nothing gets left behind. No records. No tapes. Nothing they can fashion in their names, no society they can consciously call their own to leave behind. 

The fact, then, that, in the midst of this gap, this uncrossable line, something does indeed cross, makes the thing that crosses, that special communication, that comprehension of which Melville spoke, all the more special. Even as there is nothing to say between us but that nonetheless just about everything is said speaks to the power of connection. 

Whenever a dog looks into your eyes it is saying this: 

I have no need for your ways. They are nothing to me. I do not even know what they are. 

And I do not care. I only care about this. 

The artist Banksy used to share uplifting memes on his Twitter account. One of them showed a picture of a man and a dog on a hillside overlooking a bay with ships on the horizon and two thought clouds positioned over their heads respectively. The human’s thought cloud was full of worry and preoccupation: will they call back? Have I paid the rent? What should I do after this? The canine’s was simply a facsimile of the very scene before which the two were sitting: a bay with ships on the horizon. The caption read: And we wonder why they are always the happy ones. 

With each glance exchanged, a dog returns to sender (without opening) the merciless crux of our hubris and ambition, throughout history, throughout life. The dog says, “No thanks.” It does this by reaching into our souls with the only truly meaningful thing in life: connection. Despite your best efforts, the dog says, I am still connecting with you.

It says nothing suspicious that we replace these creatures after they die, that we invite new babies into the home, even as their predecessors have only recently passed. You still need friends and relatives when someone near and dear has passed. The same goes for animal energy. Another dog is only the continuation of the much larger bond between the species. It is a way to honor the very possibility of the bond in the first place. At least it was for me. I almost felt that Gaius, were it possible for him to express the conditional, would have wanted me to find another dog, to renew the pact between us in the form of another one of his kind. 

The grief is worth it, if only to repay the species for what it bestows us, the respite from the constant distraction of civilization, of society, of rules and of niceties. It is worth it for the love they bring, hermetically encased from all that would corrupt it from without, right to our doorstep. It is worth it for the break. For the truth.

 We lead Sammy back to Sheri’s apartment. Or rather, he leads us. He’s tugging on the leash. He knows he’s headed home. Sheri’s organized his triumphant return to the family with whom he belongs and with whom he is desperate to be reunited. I am still holding back tears as I try to keep him at bay, as he continues to zig and zag. Casca keeps approaching him, almost as if to ask, Hey man this has been so much fun I hope we can be pen pals. It’s cold and noisy in the streets.

We arrive at Sheri’s and stay in the lobby and the family comes in and Sammy sees them and runs at them at full speed, his tail vibrating like a tuning fork. He jumps up and they catch him. It’s a man and a woman, a couple, and their adolescent child, hanging in the back. The man tries to give us a reward but we refuse. We don’t wish to deny him the opportunity to be grateful, but we also don’t want to take money for what we’ve done. If anything, we should be giving him a reward. 

The woman recounts the story of noting the day of his grooming appointment and that he was still missing and she starts crying. Apparently, Sammy has a brother who’s been missing him, though they didn’t bring the canine with them. Bernie hands the gentleman an envelope with all of the info from Sammy’s vet visit: he now has a microchip and some shots. They can sort out what to do next for Sammy. He’s only eighteen months old, the woman says, so it’s not too late to get him neutered. Sheri needs to spend some time emphasizing how jumpy Sammy is and that he requires incredible vigilance. “He’s a flight risk,” she says, making sure they know what she’s trying to say to them, that is, to be more careful. 

This prompts the man to recount the story of how he lost Sammy. He dropped off his daughter just down the block and got back into his car. He drove through New Jersey and into Pennsylvania and only then noticed that Sammy was not in the car. Believing that he’d lost him at a rest stop in Lodi, New Jersey, he sent out his notices over there. It only occurred to him several days later that Sammy had jumped out of the car in Manhattan, after which he consulted the Facebook page where we’d posted his photo and was able to finally locate his dog. 

He tells this story with a nonchalance I find insufficiently penitent. The anger starts to curdle within. Every time I get in the car with Casca, I think to myself, I am looking at the back seat to see if he is ok, every five minutes, or less. How do you lose a dog and cross two states and only then realize your own dog is no longer in the car? How is that even possible? It escapes me, and because it escapes me it makes me want to scream at the guy, scream at the family. I think about how terrified this dog was and the distinct possibility that he didn’t have to be as lucky as he was, that he could’ve easily been discovered by others not disposed towards canines as much as we all were, and what then? What could have happened to this very lucky dog then? I want to scream all of this in his face.

Sammy jumps up to the adolescent and the kid grabs Sammy in midair and he’s licking his face all over and the kid is very happy to have his dog back. “Can I bring him into the car, mom?” he asks the woman. When she nods he goes through the door and I never see Sammy again.

We finally conclude all the talk and wish the family well and they are off. Sheri, Bernie and I keep talking in her lobby, while Casca sits on his side looking wanly through the doors to the outside. As Sheri departs she says we should all get together for some grub as soon as the vaccine gets distributed and some sense of normality returns. There are so many of these rain checks these days. I can only imagine it’ll be a nationwide feast once the masks are removed and people can feel it’s ok to breathe on each other again.

Bernie and I pick up a Christmas tree on the way back home. Plus a wreath. It’s cold outside and I don’t have cash and I run across the street to the ATM and then it occurs to me just how lucky I have it. I’m buying a tree without thinking about it. Something not everyone can do. I have privileges. Not everyone has the same opportunities. What’s more is not everyone has the same way of ambling about things, the same way of making one’s way. Some people, quite plainly, are just more forgetful. I remember a story someone told me of a friend of there’s who forgot their own kid in a public square and took a bus back home without the child. He noted that he loved his kids very much but that didn’t stop him from having a super lousy memory. 

I feel stupid for my initial theory about the owner having a mental illness. I was wrong about that. They were just forgetful. 

Obviously there are humane concerns. These dogs need to be cared for. But we have to care for each other too. And, in this case, that means accepting that everybody is struggling and everybody is hurting and everybody is surviving, and therefore compassion is the key.

Homo sapiens is an animal species too. When I look into the eyes of a fellow human, I am also looking into the eyes of an animal, as they are when they look into my eyes. We are animals. We are animals that have to take care of each other, too.

I can be angry that someone was negligent to a poor canine. But I also have to let it go. Who am I to judge? 

As I purchase the tree and grab the wreath, something of the Christmas spirits wafts into the scene, and my ire lifts. Bernie, Casca and I are now free to return to our lives with all of the time and space that this pandemic allows for processing momentous events such as these. 

How apt, we say to ourselves on the way back, remarking about Sammy’s real name, which we learned when the owners were initially claiming him, that he was called Lucky.

[friendlylocalwhumper]

sequel to this drabble, where emory and lux meet.

sorry if i have the wrong number, but is this emory?

The text comes at two in the morning. It’s small and unassuming on his phone, all lowercase, upfront in a gentle kind of way. After a moment, a bubble pops up to show that the mystery number is typing.

this is lux. i was at your bookshop the other day. got a book on constellations, you wrote your number in the cover?

Emory rubs his eyes and smiles, propping himself up a bit against his pillows. The excessive explanation, as if he doesn’t remember giving out his number to the cute guy with the curls, is charming.

     hey lux.

A simple start. He tries to match the other guy’s tone exactly. Curls doesn’t seem like he flirts often.

     thanks for using it.      my number, i mean. you probably get lots of guys’ numbers.      what are you doing up so late?

There’s a long pause this time. Emory stares at his screen. He’s not sure why he cares so much about getting a response. His stomach is doing flips. He can’t stop thinking about blue eyes and hesitant hands skimming over the spines of books lined up on the bookshop’s shelves.

couldn’t sleep. decided to check out the book. helps a lot, having a picture right here to match with the stars!

Lux pauses, then starts typing again. Those pauses make Emory’s heart race.

kinda hard to see the pages out here in the dark, though.

Emory blinks and pushes himself to sit all the way up. Uses both hands to type this time.

     are you outside?      are you out looking at the stars at two am?

The typing in reply starts, and stops, and starts again. Torturous seconds pass where all Emory can do is imagine this guy who walked outside in the middle of the night, a book splayed open in his hands, peering up at the sky in his pajamas.

yeah.

Pause. Each hesitation feels like doubt, uncertainty, more than deliberate playing or some distraction stealing his attention. It’s like Lux is chewing on his lip and wondering what he should say next. Emory gets it - it’s always nerve-wracking texting someone new, someone whose tone you’re not used to. They don’t even know each other yet.

i’m at the park. wanted to lay out on the grass, but i don’t have a lawn. looking up at

Lux sent the text before he was done typing it. Emory wonders if it was an accident, or if he meant to, his texting mirroring how he’d speak aloud. Emory wonders a lot of things about this guy. While he waits for the rest of the sentence, he clicks on the number at the top of his screen and adds it to his contacts. Star Boy is a fitting name for right now, he thinks, typing it in with a little sparkly emoji. He’ll put in Lux’s actual name if this goes anywhere. No use getting ahead of himself.

looking up at capricornius. capricornus? hard to see the page.

Thumbs hovering over the keyboard on his screen, Emory considers what to type next. He imagines this dude lying on the grass, with a book full of interesting facts about the stars he seems to like so much, and the whole night sky on display above him, sparing any time at all for some random guy.

     aren’t you cold out there?      i’m not getting any sleep right now      i could bring you a hoodie?

Bold. Bold! Emory grins nervously. Hopefully this comes off as fun and flirty, not creepy. Lux certainly is taking a long time deciding how to respond. Or he set down his phone, didn’t even read the text, isn’t as invested in this late night conversation as Emory is.

Lux types. Deletes. Types again, backspaces again. Four attempts pass before he sends a reply.

i don’t know

Emory watches his phone screen, anxiety eating away slowly at his confidence. He’s got enough confidence to spare, it’s just a rough couple of minutes to wait through.

kinda nervous not trying to assume anything sorry really nervous haha, i’m definitely overthinking it just wondering like i’m sorry i would be fine with you coming out here and bringing me a hoodie that would be super nice but i don’t know what we’d do then? you know? i’m sorry i’ll stop sending a hundred texts

Lux starts to type again, then stops. He’s managed, in his flurry of anxiety, to kick up the butterflies in Emory’s stomach again.

     it’s okay, star boy, i’m nervous too.      we’d just be hanging out for a bit      looking up at the stars, chatting      not a commitment      no strings attached      except for the hoodie strings      those come attached i’m pretty sure

It’s the joke, he thinks, or maybe the slightly rambling texts in return, that makes Lux feel more confident in answering. There’s less backpedaling this time.

okay. like hanging out?

     like hanging out.      or like a date, but with no paying for dinner      and no awkward kiss at the end of it.

Adrenaline courses through him as he risks calling it a date. He’s flirted plenty of times before, texted a hundred guys, but he’s never asked to join someone in their stargazing out in a park somewhere. It’s always been dinner or a movie or hookups or nightclubs. There’s something wonderfully soft about asking to join a guy in lying on the grass and picking out constellations from a book.

a date?

Panic. No matter how often Emory’s done this, the first sign that his advances might have been unwelcome, might be mocked, makes him panic. He’s ready in an instant to make a joke out of it and block Star Boy’s number.

sorry not trying to make you nervous i don’t know if you are it’s 2:30 am my brain is slow a date with no strings attached i mean it is kinda cold out here okay! it’s a date, then! if you want?

Before Lux can send another avalanche of texts in doubt, Emory answers.

     i do want, that’s why i offered      i promise if you decide it’s awkward      and you want your stargazing grounds to yourself again      i’ll make myself scarce, no questions asked      where you at?

Lux sends the location, and gives about three times as much detail as Emory will need to find him. He describes the trees near him, and the types of cars parked on the nearest road, and the angle of the park’s little pond and painted bridge that he can see from where he sits. As Emory picks out his coziest hoodie for Lux and his cutest one for himself, he smiles at each buzz of his phone, each nervous addition. He wonders if he’ll be able to figure out, in just their first no-strings-attached night, how to make Lux speechless.

[askiisoft]

FAN ART FRIDAY: Triple Dragons

Imagine dragons. It can be the European winged lizards or the long, windy Asian ones, it doesn’t matter. Now imagine that, like most lizards, it molted its skin every so often. But afterwards, that shedded skin came to life, put on a suit, and started trying to take over the identity of the original, creeping out its friends and war buddies in the process.

That’s the sordid history of Gamma Fifteen, a.k.a “The Dragon of New Mecca”. I think no one behind Katana ZERO imagined he’d become the game’s breakout character, receiving more fan love than the rest of the cast combined. But we’re not here to talk about him...or at least, not just him. Thanks to the raw talent and wild imaginations of fans, there have become at least three different versions of Fifteen in fanon.

So buckle in, because today we’ll be going on an expedition into the urban jungles of the Third District, to get a look at the three species of The Dragon in the wild.

Thanks to @55_yamisan for drawing all the species illustrations below! You can see the original artwork here.

[WARNING: Contains plot spoilers for ‘Katana ZERO’]

Ssshhh. Stay low, and be careful of snapping twigs underfoot. Just through the brush, we can see a juvenile Dragon in its natural habitat. Here, have a look.

Don’t be fooled by his boyish charm—at the tender age of 15, this NULL specimen is already a proficient killing machine. From this juvenile form, a Dragon can eventually grow into one of three different forms depending on its diet, habitat, and artist. 

—

Exhibit A. Here, we have most prolific and successful species of The Dragon. Using his long, spindly legs, he prowls the Earth’s upper atmosphere for small birds, passenger planes, and other prey.

One of the mandates for Katana ZERO’s promotional art was that spoiler characters like Fifteen and Headhunter couldn’t be shown. It was a smart move for hiding the game’s various late-game twists, but as a consequence, fan artists had nothing but his in-game sprites as reference material. 

This led to debates about whether he wore sunglasses or had cat ears, until natural selection produced the perfect assassin; a bishonen-yet-deadly apex predator.

by @IERotAK

I love hatched lines. They’re useful for drawing the eye or adding texture, shadows, and folds without the use of color. Unfortunately, a combination of shitty tablet drivers and my own unsteady hand means I can only draw lines a couple dozen pixels long before they start losing their straightness.

That’s clearly no issue for IEROtAK, who manages to convey the distinct textures of glossy leather gloves, a dark suit, and cold steel using nothing but amazingly neat hatched lines and negative space. The thick webs of intricate lines dazzles the eye from afar before it slowly makes out the clean shapes and low perspective of this masterpiece. Real badasses don’t look at explosions.

by @PsykoShipht

One of the best ways to make dynamic action is by accentuating movement; things like Batman’s cape, Strider Hiryu’s crimson scarf, or Rad Spencer’s dreadlocks billow and sway with their every movement, giving a sense of momentum and a clear line of action. 

PsykoShipht gives Fifteen’s stylish ponytail a life of its own; I can already picture it straightening with each Chronos Rush attack or forming zig-zags and right angles and he navigates platforms. Even Fifteen’s comparatively lanky proportions and clean silhouette scream ‘agility character’ before he even draws his sword.

—

This species is a rare sight in the wild, and thankfully so. His briefcase is lead-lined, so even X-ray scans have been unable to reveal its contents.

It all began in The Concept Art of Katana ZERO and seemingly normal piece of concept art by Kenju, depicting an alternate version of Fifteen bearing a green sheath, green hair, and what looked like mild burn scars on his face. 

by Kenju

Fan artists immediately took the idea and ran with it, inventing a bizarre, disfigured, and delightfully mad doppelgänger—first dubbed “Proto Fifteen″ and later, “The Snake” or “The Serpent”. He carries around that mysterious silver briefcase and a creepy yandere obsession with Fifteen’s old comrade, Zero. 

Is he a failed clone? A bizarro-version from another dimension? And what’s inside that briefcase? We may never know. But the idea of having a stalker with Fifteen’s level of speed and swordsmanship is an utter nightmare...

by @55_yamisan

Why drown a drawing in rainbows when just a few spots of color makes all the difference? 

Adding red eyes to Yami-san’s black-and-white art style immediately leads one’s gaze in a serpentine spiral, from the snake’s glare and up its graceful coils to The Serpent’s cocked head and seductive smirk that distinguish him as the ‘evil twin’. Even without the green in his hair or his signature briefcase, it’s easy to tell this is a totally distinct character from The Dragon. 

Let’s hope Zero can tell the difference, too...

“There’s something important inside.” by @moryu​

When Quentin Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction hit in 1994, everyone had their own guesses about what was inside the ‘mysterious briefcase’. Diamonds. Nuclear launch codes. Perhaps even a human soul.

In this case, however, my guesses are a lot more morbid, as anything The Serpent holds dear is likely slick, smelly, and related to Zero in some way. The way fan artists took a discarded detail from concept art and transformed it into The Serpent’s central conceit is beyond impressive.

I shudder to think of the kinds of reference photos @moryu​ used to achieve such realistic-looking burn scars in this picture. It doesn’t stop there, though; the mottled glow of The Serpent’s suit and hair and dull metallic sheen of his briefcase add an extra dimension of warmth to this otherwise creepy portrait.

—

“The Crocodile” is a relative newcomer to this ecosystem, but has carved out a niche of lifting his prey with a single arm, then drowning them in a toilet or other convenient body of water.

Truth be told, this one’s on me. When drawing some Steam Backgrounds for the game’s PC version, enough time had passed that The Dragon was fair game for publicity material. What I drew ended up like a blood-spattered cross between Clint Eastwood and Owen Wilson.

by @godsavant

This sent shockwaves rippling through the Katana ZERO fan community. Where was the sharply-dressed samurai prince everyone thirsted for? Surely this stomach-kicking, mobster-torturing beefcake couldn’t be him, thus earning him the moniker “The Crocodile” or “The Alligator”: muscular, deadly, and singularly obsessed with revenge.

by @sbserpent

Dragons are a consistent theme in art across many Asian cultures; for example, the Chinese once believed their emperor was descended from dragons, and thus bore their wisdom and benevolence. Here, sbserpent demonstrates just how frightening a human embodiment of a dragon really is.

Where The Dragon carries himself with an air of calculated composure, The Crocodile exudes sheer terror. The thick, angular brush strokes evoke Japanese sumi-e artwork, yet blotchy ink spots and harsh shadows are a far cry from the koi fish and bamboo forests of those traditional paintings. 

by @Zebralineku

Chiaroscuro is a technique that uses bold contrast between light and shadow to leave certain parts for the viewer’s mind to fill in. 

Here, Zebra gives us an imposing film-noir bust of The Crocodile as glimpsed through narrow blinds or a slat in a dark alley: the foreboding red mixed with heavy shadows evoke a hitman staring out at crimson neon signs, and his dark suit mixes with the black background to make him almost a shadow. Yet we can envision the other half of his face and ponytail in our mind’s eye from the scantest details; truly the touch of a master.

—

Remember, the specimens we’ve observed must be viewed from a safe distance; should you spot any of them in the wild, do not approach!

If you’d like some artwork featured on a future Fan Art Friday, just use the Submit Button on this blog!

by @Kazzang3

[sicprowl]

The Fell-Star P2.3

The Fell-Star Series

Previous     AO3

{Ashe's Log} //FORMAT - TEXT// {DATE: ERA2 Ethereal Moon, 1184}

....................................................................

//LOCATION: KITCHEN//

……………………………………………………….

                                 LOG2

Subject

Girl

The Alien stands at 164cm - or about 5’5”

Weight???

Name unknown

Biology yet to be explored - see Mercedes

Light green hair with matching eyes (they glow?? How??  Why?)

Found on an Empire ship inside a strange egg orb

sample being looked at by Annette - note: don’t forget to visit later

Has a strange connection with the Prince’s Lance

Possibly knows what they are? Creators?  Original owners?

Takes very long baths

Likes kissing   Mute??

……………………………………………………….

”Why’d you cross that last one out?”

Ashe looked like he was about to have a heart attack when Sylvain appeared over his shoulder.  He watched the shorter boy fumble with his tablet, nearly dropping it before the red head caught it.

“A-Ah!   Sylvain!”  He reached up for his device - but the communications officer merely held it higher, reading over the data with a curious quirk of his brow.  Ashe frowned, “Can I have my notes back please?"

Sylvain grunted and began swiping through screens.  “Wow.  You’re really taking this research thing seriously.”

“Of course I am!”  The shorter boy managed to snatch his tablet back and held it close to his chest.

“This is probably the biggest discovery in history!”

“Mmhmm…”

Ashe narrowed his eyes at him, disbelief clear on his face.  “How can you not be excited about this?  It’s an alien!  There’s an alien on our ship!"

“Oh, I care.”  Sylvain shrugged as he glanced elsewhere.

The conversation wasn’t appealing to him anymore, more focused on the array of food set out on the counter top of their small kitchen.  Some of it were from instant packets - disgusting alternatives to real food (cheap too).  Others were various dried meats, rice, beans, and generally things that wouldn’t go bad when stored properly on the ship.  Their group had always preferred real food over the process stuff - maybe it was a Faerghus thing?

“I care about there being another pretty girl onboard~”

Ashe balked, “Sylvain!”

He gave Ashe a cheeky grin and slung an arm over his shoulders.  The communications officer ignored how the freckle-kissed boy tensed up, knowing he was a little too polite to brush him away like the others.   “Look.  Things have gotten real tense around here lately - you can’t blame a guy for getting a little excited, can you?"

“T-That’s not-!!  She isn’t-!!!”  Ashe turned pink while the grip on his tablet went white, “You can’t be serious!!”

Sylvain ignored the boy’s sputtering attempts at reprimanding him in favor of tapping the device’s screen, “Don’t forget to add ‘green fingernails’."

He blinked, “Huh?”

“ ’Green fingernails.’ ”  Sylvain repeated, using his forefinger to write it down.  It came out sloppy and bigger then the other notes on the list, but the red head was satisfied to be of help.  “She’s got these layered, green colored nails.  I guess it is a small thing to notice.”

Ashe looked up at him, brow furrowed and questioning.  The older male shrugged again, not really wanting to go into detail about how he always noticed those kinds of things when it came to girls.  They liked it when you complimented their looks so of course Sylvain would zero in on anything with color or make-up.  Hair was a bit harder; the slightest change was considered new to some girls and it could get a little frustrating.

“Just look at her hands the next chance you get - you’ll see what I mean.”

Sylvain abandoned the confused boy for Ingrid who was busy putting out as much food as she could fit on their dinky, stainless steel counter.  Plopping onto a stool, Sylvain looked over the array of food and whistled.   “Nice buffet you got going there.”

Ingrid shot him a dirty look when he spun one of the plates, watching the grey sludge wiggle suspiciously like jello.  “Don’t you have some place else to be?”

He gave her a noncommittal grunt, eyes trained on a tray of Sweet Bun Trio only for Ingrid to slap his hand away the moment he reached for one.  “Hey…”

“Those aren’t for you,” Ingrid huffed, ever immune to his pout and charming good looks.

Sylvain crossed his legs and slouched against the counter, eyes now trained on the entrance to the kitchen. “Where is the lady of the hour?  I thought she was done with the bath?”

Ingrid paused, eyes suspicious as to how the red head knew their guest was done with using the bathroom.  She almost questioned it, almost.  But she doubted Sylvain would tell her the truth anyways.  She’ll just have to keep an eye on him for now.

“Mercedes and Annette are helping her get some clothes,” she continued to place out more food before taking a step back with a nod.  It seemed like a good variety, so surely there was something here for the alien girl to eat.  “She can’t walk around in His Highness’ cloak all day."

A grin creeped onto his face as his hand reached for a sweet bun, “I’m sure His Highness would disagree~.”

She slapped him away, “No one asked for your opinion, Sylvain.”

It was at this moment the door to the kitchen slid open to reveal Annette and Mercedes, both standing on either side of their strange guest and talking to her despite the alien seemingly not listening.  Sylvain sat up and blinked, his gaze sliding over her new outfit with apprehension. A black top and shorts, both with boob and stomach window.  A corset to hold up her large chest, a bulky accessory of a falling star laying nicely in the center.  He looked down and noted the knee high boots and lace stockings.

“Are you sure you don’t want my opinion?” Sylvain gawked - wondering just what in the seven layers of icy hell she had on.  And why was she wearing the coat like that?  Did she rip holes in the sleeves??  No, this was too much.  He had to say something.  The red head sat up, giving the outfit an incredulous wave.  “I’m not exactly a fashionista but-"

“Look here, Sylvain!!”  Whoa. Annette was not having it today.  “Girls are built differently then men, okay?!  While you guys can share shirts and pants because your planks, us women have curves of all shapes and sizes and it makes shopping really, REALLY hard!”

The communications expert gave a nervous laugh and raised his hands, “I surrender!  Please, have mercy!”

Annette fumed, having been ready to defend the horrible outfit with her life.   It’s not their fault the poor girl was curvy in all the right places!   They had so much trouble finding the right sizes that the alien had almost slipped out of sight after they spent thirty minutes looking for pants.  It also didn’t help that they were all tired from storming that ship, and the adrenaline of finding an alien was keeping them all from getting any sleep.

Sylvain let her cool off before asking another question, unable to keep his curiosity in check as he stared at the green haired girl.  “So, whose stockings are those~?”

To his surprise, it was Ingrid that blushed - her gaze suddenly focused on organizing a plate of cut vegetables.  Suddenly, he was seeing his childhood friend in a new light.

“The boots are mine,” Annette pointed out.  “So is the tie.  The pants and coat are Ingrids and the tops belong to Mercedes.”

Sylvain’s eyes were suddenly on the alien’s chest, grin growing wide at how much perkier it looked with that tight corset on.  Ingrid smacked him upside the head before he could formulate a snarky comment, effectively rattling his brain enough to make him see the error of his ways.

“Anyways,” the blond clapped her hands together while her voice held the same tone she had when flying the ship.  “Let’s get started!”

“O-Oh, wait!”   Ashe fiddled with his tablet a moment before rushing to Ingrid’s side.   He held up the device and a tiny red light appeared on the back as it started to record.  “This is the starship Blue Lion with Officers Ingrid, Sylvain, Annette, Mercedes and Ashe.  Log input number three - subject - Food.”

“All right, Ashe.”  Ingrid made sure the alien was watching as she gestured towards the freckle faced boy.  She then looked to the other two girls.  “Mercedes, Annette,  are you ready?"

“Yes!” Annette grinned, taking the alien’s arm and tugging her towards the counter next to Sylvain.  The girl paused, as if suddenly remembering something.  “O-Oh!  Here you go, Ingrid."

Sylvain raised a brow when Ingrid nodded back, only to repeat the scientist’s name again.  He couldn’t help but feel like he was missing something here…

Once they got the alien situated next to Sylvain, Mercedes and Annette quickly gathered around for a closer look.  They all waited, watching the mint haired girl stare back with a neutral look.  Mercedes touched the woman’s back, causing the alien to turn and look at her gentle expression.

“It’s okay,” Mercedes encouraged.  “You can have anything you like.”

The communications rested his chin on his hand, watching the display with mild curiosity as the green eyed woman continued on with her blank stare.  If he was going to be honest, her face was a bit creepy.  There was never a clear expression there and whatever face she did make was sometimes so subtle that it was impossible to read.  Sylvain couldn’t help but be reminded of a porcelain doll the more he stared.  Her face was both sharp and smooth; beautiful and pearly under the certain lighting, yet also gave off an eerie feeling of the unnatural.

Green eyes suddenly looked back at him, startling him out of his thoughts with giant, grassy green orbs.  Sylvain swallowed, wondering if she was going to kiss him like she’d done to Dimitri.  That wouldn’t be so bad. Her lips looked pretty soft too.  Probably still moist and warm from her long lounge in the tub.  He bet they tasted good too - something exotic and sweet~.

Sylvain felt disappointed when she looked away to look over the buffet, now finding the grey jello stuff more interesting then him.  He ran a hand through his hair with a sigh, wondering why he even bothered coming here if she was just going to ignore him.  Why did any of them bother?  It’s not like she was trying to communicate with them.  Just what were they even getting out of this?

He was pulled out of his thoughts again when Ashe gasped.  The young engineer moved in closer with his camera and kept his eyes trained on the alien girl’s fingers as she palmed a lemon.  There against the bright contrast of yellow, just as Sylvain said, were the alien’s green fingernails.  They weren’t smooth and rounded like human nails.  More so they were layered like worn seashells, ridged and almost sharp looking as they faded from dark jade to lime, like soft watercolors.

Sylvain grinned when the younger male suddenly looked at him with excitement, pointing to her nails and nodding as if they were sharing an inside joke.  He snorted,  I guess seeing Ashe act like this is kind of worth it…

But their smiles were short lived when the alien placed the fruit back down to stare at them once again - silent, blank, creepy.

Mercedes looked at the others with worry, “What do we do?  She doesn’t even look interested in the food.”

Annette hummed, “Do we have anything else she might like?”

“Everything else we have has to be cooked,” Ingrid turned towards one of the tall, steel panels lining the wall.  She laid her palm flat against the surface and watched as the grey panel slowly turn translucent.  On the other side of the glass were shelves hidden behind a cold mist and ice that bordered the edges in tiny fractals.  Each of these shelves was some of their more expensive kitchen items - frozen meats, drinks, emergency supplies, and even alcohol - all stored away for special occasions like birthdays, holidays, suicide missions.

A blue circle of light formed around Ingrid’s palm as the glass collected the data from her hand-print.   Just a split second later, a series of charts and numbers scrolled down the glass, making the blonde gasp and try to hide it with her body.  “D-Don’t look!!”

Sylvain’s eyes lit up with interest when he stood from his seat.  “Was that your weight?!  You eat way more then that!!”

“Sylvain!”  Ingrid stepped away from the panel when cool air hissed out around the edges. Thankfully her health charts were gone so she didn’t have to hide all that anymore (who’s bright idea was it to take that setting off private?).  The pilot pulled open the panel, cold mist puffing against her cheeks as she grabbed a packet of ground beef and a herring.

“Okay, which one of these-!!“ Ingrid jumped in surprise when the alien girl was suddenly at her side, her eyes wide and staring hard at the frozen fish.  “O-Oh!  Do you want this?” The woman was practically drooling when she snatched the fish out of poor Ingrid’s hands.  Ashe suddenly yelled at her to wait, but the alien had already chomped down on the fish’s middle before dropping the frozen creature in shock.   Mouth gaping and hands up as if she’d been burned, the woman looked around at them in confusion.  Sylvain couldn’t help but laugh while Ingrid hurriedly picked the herring up.

“L-Let’s thaw it out first and then you can eat it, okay?”

But the alien showed no signs of understanding, merely held her hands to her mouth to touch her wiggling pink tongue.

“At least we know she likes fish,” Annette giggled along with Ingrid who placed the herring in a device above the stove.  The blonde input a few numbers before starting the defroster and looking to the rest of the crew.  Her eyes landed on the medical expert with a curious look.

“Do you think we should cook it, Mercedes?”

“Oh,” the other woman frowned thoughtfully, “Well…Ingrid, it seemed she was ready to eat it whether it was cooked or not.”

“Good point, Mercedes."

“Okay,” Sylvain’s face screwed up as annoyance bubbled up in his chest.  “What are you guys doing??  Why are you repeating each other’s names???"

Ingrid quickly rounded on him, “Just butt out, Sylvain.”

“Yeah, Sylvain!”  Annette added with a huff, “Butt out!”

The red head looked between them with wide eyes and wondered if he was in some bizarre nightmare.  “S-Stop that!!”

Sylvain was thankful when the defroster finished with a ding, a puff of mist spilling out once it’s door popped open.  They waited as the cloud evaporated before them, revealing the same fish they’d put inside, except no longer frozen.  It’s scales shimmered beneath the device’s tiny spotlight like it was freshly caught from the lakes of Faerghus; a sight that didn’t go unnoticed by their alien friend as she sidled close.  Ingrid grabbed the animal by the tail and held it up with a thoughtful frown.

“So…should I just give it to her?”  The blonde looked around for an answer, “It just feels weird not to cook it.”

Annette shifted in place, finger on her chin as she ran through different case scenarios.  “Well…  We could avoid her getting sick if we do cook it.   So I guess there wouldn’t be any harm.”

“Good,” Ingrid looked relieved.  She wasn’t sure she could stomach watching someone eat a fish raw.  Then she looked at the herring and bit her lower lip.  “I don’t think I’ve ever cooked fish before…”

“Oh!  I can do it,”  Ashe lowered his tablet slightly, but made sure to keep it trained on the alien.  “My dad used to own a restaurant. I helped out a lot around the kitchen, even as a little kid.”

Mercedes blinked in surprise, “I didn’t know that about you!”

The boy blushed, “It’s nothing really.  I just have a little bit of experience, that's all.”

Ashe frowned as he looked at his tablet, wondering what to with it until Sylvain held out his hand.  “I’ll take it.  Can’t stop recording now, right?  For science or whatever?”

“Oh!  Thank you, Sylvain!”

The red head twitched, deciding not to comment on the emphasis on names again.  He adjusted the device until he had everyone in view before giving them a wave.  “Say extraterrestrial!”

“Can you please take this seriously?”  Ingrid huffed as Ashe grabbed an apron and a pan from one of the cabinets.

“I am being serious, Ingrid.” Sylvain gave her a cheeky grin, his camera hand following the alien girl as she walked around his childhood friend with eyes trained on the hanging fish.  “I’m making sure our viewers catch every captivating detail.”

“Well, you sure aren’t-AHHH!!!”

Everyone in the kitchen jumped in surprise, Ashe’s pan and spatula falling to the floor with a clatter, Mercedes and Annette gasping, and Sylvain jumping out of his seat as he caught it all on camera.  The alien had surged forward at the hanging fish, her mouth latching onto the creature’s gills with rows of sharp teeth.  Her head jerked back, making Ingrid recoil and drop it to cover her mouth in horror.  The mint haired girl grabbed the bottom of the fish and pulled hard, severing it’s head with the fervor of a wild beast before she swallowed it whole.

“Oh my!”

Ingrid covered her mouth and hid behind Mercedes, “I think I’m going to be sick…”

Soon the girl was tearing into the rest of the fish, her tiny, prickly teeth tearing at it’s scales for a brief moment before she reared her head back.  Ingrid choked back her nausea as they saw the alien’s throat bob as something seemed to move forward to grab a hold of her meal and pull it down.

“A-Are you getting this!?”  Ashe gasped while his eyes grew wide in wonder.

“Yeah,” Sylvain swallowed.  “Unfortunately…”

“This is amazing!  I’ve never seen anything like it!”

Sylvain glanced over at the gushing boy and wished he could be as happy about this as him.  Because this was just gross.

So very, very gross. ~~~ ♫ when you're down by the sea and an eel bites your knee that's a moray! ♫ ~~~