#my brain jumps from drawing to drawing like a kangaroo

[theramblingsofadork]

So… I was working on something that was supposed to be a cute, small comic, and it somehow blew up into a massive one. I’m sitting at 6 panels with backgrounds which is CRAZY for me considering I’ve only done one other comic before.

There’s no way I’m getting it all done today since it’s 4pm and I haven’t even eaten breakfast yet, so here’s (yet another) WIP.

What’s Rivet looking at, ey?

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ⏖ ’  simple acts of love from skz

—All the times stray kids said I love you in the little things.

words・6.8k pairings・stray kids x reader genres・fluff, a little crack, established relationships warnings・lots and lots of kisses!! happy tears, drunken re-confessions, silliness, playful living room dancing, minhos a shy baby, he's also a little shit in changbins, erotic painting in hyunjins, hans is a little bit more emotional, silly little proposals, my terrible attempt at writing lyrics, jeongin stalks your goodreads profile and buys your entire TBR list like I don't have at least a thousand tbr books...some of these are silly some of these are sickeningly sweet,

a/n・I wrote these drabbles based on these headcanons, but I did change Minho's because I believed it fit him better!! Also, this has been rotting in my drafts for MONTHS im not super proud of them, but I hope you like them anyways.

ᡣ𐭩 chan + sneaking into your bathroom to trace hearts onto the bathroom mirror.

"This is a suicide mission!" his lungs scream as he slips into your inferno of a bathroom, a heavy cloak of steam hugging him instantly. His respiratory system begs for release, a moist cough rolling up his throat; but like the magnificent boyfriend he is, he shoves those rebellious bodily functions right back down his windpipe.

Was his silly little plan worth the ability to breathe? Yes. Did he also wonder how you even could? Also yes.

The mirror fogs like the surface of an ancient lake, obstructing the image of his mischievous grin. He brings a pointer finger to the glass, drawing all his ardor in the mist—though it only comes out as lopsided hearts.

Your voice floats out from behind the curtain, absentmindedly humming to a silent tune. Shadows of your hands move through your hair, your body refracted onto the thin sheet.

You are so beautiful...

Cupid smacks his jaw shut.

He manages to slip out right as the water sputters off, sliding into the living room by his socks. He face-plants onto the couch, scrambling to sit upright. The loud smack of your towel echoes in his ears as his wide eyes dart to the table, frantically searching for something to occupy his attention. He snatches the first thing he sees, which just happens to be a... candle?

Whatever, no time!

Chan is intently studying the ocean-blue Bath & Body Works label, when you come pattering out, damp hair dribbling water behind you. The moment you step into his line of sight, his heart plummets—that stupid aromatherapy candle nearly tumbling with it.

There you were, in all your drenched glory, your towel wrapped snug against your chest, tears rolling freely down your cheeks. Did you hear that?! Tears!! You were crying?! Why were you crying?!?!

Chan must have embodied the spirit of a kangaroo, because he’s never jumped up faster in his life.

"Why are you crying? You're supposed to be happy!" he yelps, yanking your body into his arms, water seeping into the thin fabric of his tee shirt. His brain becomes the equivalent of the world’s most fucked-up ambrosia when you begin laughing, the curve of your smile pressed into his chest. He blinks—he doesn't know whether to kiss you or call a priest. Maybe he should do both?

Suddenly you pull away, cocooning his cheeks with pruney hands, your bottom lip wobbling as you sob, "I'm so in love with you."

Well, good job—now he's sobbing too.

"I'm in love with you too, baby."

You had drawn hearts on the walls of his soul in the same way he had drawn them in the steam of your mirror. The only difference is, yours would never fade away.

ᡣ𐭩 minho + randomly sending you songs that remind him of you.

Minho wasn't the type to throw his arms around you, pressing kisses to your face with all his overflowing ardor. Instead, in the minuscule overlaps of time between talking on the phone and constructing a perfect dance routine, he'll find himself sitting dazed upon the lounge room couch, mindlessly nodding to a catchy tune. He had left his Spotify on smart shuffle, finding comfort in the idea of a song found without searching, as if it were fate's gentle finger dusting the path to new adventures. He flutters his eyelids shut, ripples of sound washing over his skin.

And I've heard of a love that comes once in a lifetime

And I'm pretty sure that you are that love of mine

'Cause I'm in a field of dandelions

Wishing on everyone that you'd be mine, mine

In a rash flood of emotions, he sends you the song just before Chan steps into view, announcing his dire need to finish choreographing the final steps of their newest single. Begrudgingly, he slips his phone into his back pocket, his earbuds following suit. The only thing that keeps him sane throughout the day is the anticipation that he will go home and see you, and that makes it all worth it.

ᡣ𐭩

May I have this dance?" you declare, extending your arm with feigned seriousness, though the playful smile tugging at your lips betrays you instantly.

“What?” Minho chuckles through furrowed brows, observing the unusual surroundings; candles flicker dim lighting on the walls, throwing shadows on the rose petals you had scattered around your living room, forming an intriguing resemblance to a romantic dance floor. He sets the bags of groceries on the ground. Lee Know is so beyond confused, yet also pleasantly surprised, especially when you waltz over to him, tight red dress hugging all your gorgeous curves.

“You still haven't answered my question,” you sing, playfully twirling into his arms. Your hands find their way to the nape of his neck, tracing mindless circles in his hair. A shiver rolls up his spine as you tilt your face forward, lips so close; his heart flutters like a fragile leaf tumbling down from an autumn tree. He blinks before exhaling—

“Of course, I'll dance with you.”

A delighted squeal erupts from your lips, and you jump away from his arms, heading straight over to your phone to play the song he sent you prior. A warm blush floods his cheeks, painting them a bashful red.

“Did you like it?” His eyes fall away from yours.

“Did I like it?? Of course I liked it!” you squeal, gaping at him like he was the dumbest person on the planet. World War Three rages inside his chest as he fights not to fold like a lawn chair, flopping on the floor like a flustered starfish. Though when your hands rub their way up from his chest to his shoulders, he's surprised he's even upright. Your hips sway to the melody, a warm smile melting away all his defenses; but when you guide his awkward hands to the dip in your hips, it’s game over. He stuffs his face into your neck, littering the sensitive skin with kisses, his brain screaming: distract the enemy!! distract the enemy!!

“Do you know how much I love you?” he mumbles with striking genuineness. Instead of answering his question, you simply twirl yourself around his finger, placing his hand to wrap around the small of your back. He dips you down right as the music swells. It was magical, really—the candlelight twinkling in your peripheral, spills of starlight dancing off the ocean's surface. It was all so perfect—that was until your shoe caught on one of the rose petals, the floor turning slick under your feet. You send yourself tumbling straight to the ground. Minho squeals, grasping at thin air, but then he too also slips, frantically shooting his wrists out so he doesn't crush you.

The music cuts through the deafening silence as petals weave their way into your hair. You roll your lips into your teeth, glancing over to an eerily still Minho, staring at the ceiling like a spooked tabby. As if he could feel your eyes, his gaze finds yours, and only then does he burst out into roaring laughter, which prompts you to also join the fun.

“Are you sure you're the main dancer?” you tease through breathy giggles. He gasps, smacking a dramatic hand over his chest.

“I’ll have you know you fell first.”

And I've heard of a love that comes once in a lifetime

And I'm pretty sure that you are that love of mine

'Cause I'm in a field of dandelions

Wishing on everyone that you'd be mine, mine

In that moment, as the light hits you just right, he swears he finds the universe in your eyes. Your skin is showered in candlelight, head tilted back—joy flickers on your tongue as honey drips from your teeth. His heart pounds against his ribs, flowers sprouting in his lungs. To the world, he was an aloof grump with smooth moves and an impressive affinity for cats; but to you, with you, he was so much more.

Mid-snort, he captures your cheek, pressing his lips to yours. In a single gesture, he is pouring all the words he wished to say—

though to you, it tasted a little bit like—

If he had to blow a wish on every dandelion in the universe just to keep you, he would; and only through your lips would he find the power to keep breathing.

ᡣ𐭩 changbin + gushing about you while drunk

The balmy patio is sticky with soju-infused groans, most of the boys slumped in their respective seats, throwing back exasperated swigs of their drinks as they desperately try to drown out Changbin’s relentless rambles.

The two semicircle outdoor couches form a full circle around an unlit bonfire pit. On one of the couches sits a completely unfazed Felix, taking small sips of his soju between chuckles; an extremely annoyed Seungmin, glaring daggers at Changbin; and I.N, who doesn’t seem to be doing much of anything except, well, sleeping—body slumped against the armrest. Hyunjin is sandwiched between Chan and Changbin on the other couch: Chan, who wishes he never even brought up the idea to buy beer in the first place, and Changbin, who is currently slumped over a very irked Hyunjin’s lap. Han is somewhere in the house, probably giggling at his own swirling reflection.

Hyunjin digs his fingers into the roots of his locks, fighting every urge not to yank the tufts straight out.

“N-no, but Jinnie, you don’t u-understand—she’s so pretty,” Changbin slurs, stuffing his face into his friend’s hoodie, which makes Hyunjin frown and swat him away.

“That’s it! I’m calling Y/N!” Seungmin announces, jumping up from his seat. Chan grabs his sleeve, yanking him straight back down, much to Seungmin’s dismay. he sinks into the polyester in a puddle of disgruntled grumbles.

"Or we could record him," Minho calls out from the shadows of the back entryway, only ever appearing when he needed more beer or more entertainment. And right now, it was dinner and a show. Minho simply shrugs as if his evil plan wouldn’t ruin his best friend's bad-boy reputation. "Send it to Y/N later," he mumbles to himself, the devil tilting his cheek up. Nobody seems to hear him, so he slyly pulls his phone from his pocket and presses record.

"No, no, no! You can't call Y/N. She’ll know I love her!" Changbin gasps in horror, stumbling to grab the phantom phone that apparently appears on Hyunjin’s lap with the way he paws at his jeans. Hyunjin takes a nice, long swig of his soju.

"You know you and Y/N have been together for over four years, right?" Felix chuckles, finding the whole ordeal pure comedic relief.

"No, you don’t understand. She’ll know I love her... lover," Changbin’s words slur into an incoherent shake of his head. Minho's evil cackles float out from the concealment of the doorway, and Chan perks up.

"Minho, what are you doing?!" Minho slams his phone against his thigh. What the hell?? Does Chan have Spidey senses or something??

"Nothing!" he yelps, sounding super convincing. Chan narrows his eyes toward the darkness where Minho is supposedly lurking, sporting an eerily perfect rendition of a frustrated father. That is, until Changbin begins a very off-tune version of “The Itsy Bitsy Spider,” rolling over on Hyunjin’s lap to tap his fingers up his arm and eventually landing on Hyunjin’s nose with a giggle. When Hyunjin almost bites his finger off, Chan finally diverts his attention. Minho thanks God for the shadows—how else would he have gotten away with recording all of that?

“I’m about two seconds away from bringing you back to Y/N,” Hyunjin sighs, his lips pressed into a tight line as he glares at the man whose eyes just burst with light at the thought of seeing you. Chan smacks Hyunjin on the back sympathetically, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Why me, Lord? Why me?" Chan sings his woes under his breath but just loud enough for the camera to pick up—and for Minho to giggle.

"Y/N, I miss Y/N. Can I go home to Y/N, please?" Changbin hiccups, slumping his head onto Hyunjin’s shoulder. Hyunjin’s eye twitches. "I wanna tell the pretty girl I love her."

Felix emerges from his silence with a fit of laughter, nearly spilling his beer all over the floor. "Weren't you just saying you didn’t want to tell her you loved her?"

Changbin whips his gaze forward, his eyes hardening into a very foggy glare. "Well, now I want to tell the pretty girl I love her," he states matter-of-factly, his eyes fluttering a bit, betraying just how drunk he is.

Felix’s amusement is transparent as he raises his beer in Changbin’s direction. "Somebody needs to bring him to Y/N and let him re-confess his undying love for her."

Seungmin has never jumped up so fast in his life; he’s mid-volunteer when Chan grabs the cuff of his sleeve again and yanks him right back on his ass. Seungmin collapses onto the couch, ready to spit a disrespectful insult at his elder, but he folds like a lawn chair when Chan shoots him that look.

"Seungmin, you are far too drunk to take him home, while I," he looks to the sky with regret, "am very regretfully sober." Chan sounds like he’s going through the five stages of grief in one sentence.

"Okay, buddy, I’m taking you home," Chan grunts, clapping the drunken boy on the back. Changbin beams like he just heard there was a cure for cancer.

"Hell yeah!" He jumps up, only to stumble slightly, the patio swimming in his vision as he catches himself on Hyunjin’s forehead. When he finally, barely stabilizes himself, he throws his hands up. "See y’all bitches later! I—” he dramatically points to his chest in pride, “—am going to see my girl," he declares and marches straight out the door. Chan is mid-goodbye hug turned introspection with Felix, wondering what he’s doing with his life, when he hears a loud shatter in the hallway. Chan falls out of Felix’s arms immediately, his stride turned sprint. 

"Son of a bitch, Changbin, that was my favorite vase!"

ᡣ𐭩

“Go ahead, tell the pretty girl how much you love her,” you tease, playfully mimicking kissy faces while simultaneously poking Changbin’s crumpled form, his boiling cheeks sandwiched between his knees.

Why did Minho have to send you that video? But most of all, why did he have to send it while Changbin was still hungover? All this humiliation can’t be good for his headache.

Changbin groans, falling back on the bed to pull a pillow over his scorching face. The fact that the whole mattress hasn’t burst into flames is truly beyond him. Giggles pour from your lips, even as they settle atop his stomach, leaving kisses all the way up his torso. You can hear his flustered pants from down here.

“Okay, that’s enough bullying for one day,” you say, straddling his waist to snake your arms around his waist, pressing your chests flush together. Your teeth graze his shoulder, softly biting the flesh. “Come on, baby, take the pillow off your face.” You press your smile against his shirt before resting your chin on his chest.

He peeks out from under the pillow, tugging it down just enough to reveal his eyes, still reluctant to fully reveal himself. You bat your lashes at him, pouting ever so slightly. He folds—like a damn lawn chair, at this point, he’s practically collapsing in on himself with how much he’s folded. His face melts into a grin as he finally pulls the pillow down.

He so regrets that.

Your face lights up with laughter as you take in his beet-red cheeks, your eyes disappearing into crinkled slits. “I’m sorry, I just... I just can’t,” you cackle, doubling over in heaves.

“I hate you,” Changbin shouts, flustered, smacking you square in the side of the head with the pillow. It does nothing to quell your amusement; in fact, it only makes it worse.

“That’s not what you said last night,” you snort, falling off him as you kick your feet against the sheets.

Despite his urge to tie a millstone around his ankle and jump off the face of the earth, he can’t help but smile, caught in an unusual state of awe. Your mouth is boxy, laughter filling the air like strands of warm honey.

“Apparently, you think about me a lot,” you snicker, still rolling around. his smile only spreads wider.

If only you knew how much he thought of you.

ᡣ𐭩 hyunjin + painting perfectly captured portraits of you

“Hold still for me, baby,” Hyunjin whispers, his voice low and intimate, as he lightly drags his brush down the length of your arm, adding the final touches to your portrait. His gaze traces your bare body, memorizing every inch until even the freckle on the upper left side of your waist is drawn onto the inside of his eyelids. The valley of your breasts trembles with each labored breath, your muscles tightening against the couch where you lay.

“I’m really trying, Jinnie, but it hurts,” you whine, fighting to keep your head steady. Your boyfriend lets out a breathy laugh, savoring one final glance at your naked form. With careful precision, he drags the sharpest part of his brush down your thigh, finishing the entire painting with his favorite peice of you.

“Done,” Hyunjin murmurs, settling back into his chair with a satisfied smile, admiring the art he’s just created. Usually when he painted, there was always something he hated about his work—whether it's the proportions or the colors were slightly out of harmony—it was never good enough. but when he paints you, there's never an issue; for he could capture you with children's finger paints, and you'd still find a way to look utterly breathtaking.

“Let me see,” you squeal, jumping up from the uncomfortable spot you’d claimed on his couch. A faint blush appears on his face as he turns the easel around, unraveling his heart before you. And oh, when he does—you collapse into his arms, all your strength diffused into a shuddering gasp. He had dipped his brush into your soul, and with every meticulous stroke, he gathered the very essence of your heart. It was almost unreal how perfect he made you appear to be—your moles speckled across your skin in gold, dusted like stars; your stretch marks adorned in silver, shining like slips of light.

How are you not sobbing right now??

“Is it okay?” he asks, bashfully wrapping his arms around your naked waist, completely unfazed by your current state of undress.

“Hyunjin, this is more than okay,” you sniffle, voice crackling with emotion. You turn to meet his gaze, only for his palms cradle your cheeks with a touch so tender, it's barely there. One second, you’re breathing; the next, you’re transcending, existing only between his lips.

By the time you come up for air, the world around you has changed. He’s on top of you now, his hands resting on either side of your head, thoughts long forgotten. He moves closer, allowing whisps of his hair to tickle the sensitive flesh of your neck; for his lips to settle upong the delicate curve of your collarbone. He doesn’t stop—he doesn’t stop until the sun kisses your skin, until the sky is filled with the very stars he painted upon your skin.

Only in love and art are you eternal and in hyunjin, with hyunjin, you are both. 

ᡣ𐭩 han + hiding messages into every song he produces

"In every lifetime," a heartfelt promise whispered between shuttering breaths. Han's lips parted, your tongue savoring his astonished gasp. "What did you say?" quickly transformed into "Did you mean it?" when you had tenderly threaded your fingers into his hair, the pad of your thumb settling just under his jaw. Your needy hands had fogged his head, but he never forgot it.

"In every lifetime," you had uttered many moons later, nestled underneath the stretch of midnight sky. The universe had stilled, all of time and space screeching to a deafening halt. You unraveled the scrolls of his soul, and with the eternal vow of "I do," swore forever. So, he, for however long he may live, intends to hold you to that promise.

From: Hannie 🐿 Do not by any means play my new song!!!

From: Hannie 🐿 Im serious!!

From: Hannie 🐿 Promise me Y/N!!!

You giggle at his earnestness, clicking the notification to message him back.

From: My Wife ❤ I won't I promise!

From: My Wife ❤ Scouts honor 🫡

You admired Han's dedication to his craft, but what you admired most was his need to share every single part of it with you.

"You didn't listen to the song, did you?" Han calls out from the foyer, slamming the front door behind him. He urgently throws off his shoes, his heavy footsteps following him all the way up the stairs. Your mirth bubbles up behind a bitten grin, lip firmly tucked between your teeth.

"No!" you shout back, feigning indifference; though when he swings your bedroom door open, you’re overcome with breathy giggles—his hair is tossed around at all angles, puffed cheeks pink and gasping.

Now that was the man you fell in love with.

"Somebody's eager," you tease, chucking your phone somewhere on the bed. His eyes are oddly fearful when you lift yourself up from the comforter, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek. His chest heaves, breath labored and shaky; flighty fingers find the knot of his tie, yanking it loose. You reel your head back. Since when does he wear a tie? You flick your gaze down his figure. Since when does he wear suits?? Your confusion only festers as he lets out an anxious chuckle, wringing his hands like wet rags.

"You have no idea." You didn’t know—didn’t know what he was about to risk. His heart was clay in your hands, and with the delicacy of a butterfly's wing, you pressed your fingerprints into his skin. For now, through touch alone, his soul will find you in every lifetime; but first, he must promise you himself in this one, and that appeared to be an impossible feat.

It's now or never, he tells himself.

So, with an arduous breath, he steadies his quivering hands just long enough to slip his phone out of his back pocket. Was it just him, or is it suddenly really hot in here? He swipes to YouTube. Why was it getting so hard to breathe?? He presses play. His heart somersaults its way down to his stomach when the opening melody echoes from the speakers. Your brows lift, lips pursing in your signature concentrated quirk. His mouth forms around a smile, breathing getting marginally easier, but that peace is short-lived as the chorus begins—only then does he feel the symptoms of real fear.

In every lifetime, his warm voice melts from the speaker.

A falling star just shot from space and hit you directly in the chest, rendering you utterly speechless; even as your gaze finds his glassy eyes, you just can’t believe it.

In every lifetime you swore.

It’s just too perfect.

So, for as long as I may live, I wanna be yours.

He’s just too perfect.

In every lifetime I'll dip my knee down.

There’s no way.

And yet he sinks to one knee, slipping a velvet box from the confines of his pocket. Your hands make purchase around your mouth, stifling a wet cry.

In every lifetime I'll ask to be yours.

"Y/N L/N, will you marry me?"

You drop to your knees, tears tracing cordate-shaped rivulets down your cheeks. "Yes, Han, I'll marry you! I'll marry you!"

Your lips swear forever as they land on his, and that promise echoes far into lifetime number twelve.

ᡣ𐭩 felix + giving you gum wrapper hearts

Lee Felix was stupid in love, heavy on the stupid, figuring he was about to start World War Three to get that gum wrapper out of Seungmin’s hand.

“Please,” Felix begs, drawing out the "e" in an obnoxious whine.

Felix has been professing his love for you through gum wrapper hearts for about as long as he’s been chewing gum, so he is going to be damned if he lets one gum wrapper gets away without meeting his fingers first. Seungmin’s eyes harden into an frustrated glare, about two seconds away from punching a pizza-sized hole in his best friend’s face.

“You know, the more that you beg me for this wrapper, the more I don’t want to give it to you,” he deadpans, voice flat with irritation. Felix throws his head back in an ear-splitting groan.

“Whyyy not??”

“Oh my gosh, Seungmin, just give him the damn wrapper,” Chan interjects, exasperated.

“Yeah, listen to Chan. Give Felix the wrapper,” Felix teases, laying his chin on his hand, fluttering his lashes with a shit-eating grin. Seungmin clenches his jaw, crumpling up the foil—much to poor Lixie’s dismay.

“Did you see that, Chan?! Seungmin crumpled my wrapper!” Seungmin squeezes it harder. “Look! Do you see that, Chan?! Seungmin is bullying me!” Chan sighs, digging a knuckle into his eye. He is about five seconds away from sticking both grown toddlers in time out.

“Seungmin, for the sake of my sanity, give Felix the damn gum wrapper.” The fact that he actually had to tell two full-fledged adults that was truly beyond him, yet here he was.

“It’s the principle of it, old man—” As soon as the words leave his lips, Seungmin wants to stuff them right back in. Chan grits his teeth, steam practically whistling from his ears.

Oh, crap.

“You little—” Chan dives for Seungmin, to which he squeals, ducking from his elder’s hand, gearing up to smack him square in the forehead. In the clamber of movements, he ends up dropping the beloved wrapper. Felix lets out a squeal of excitement, lunging for the foil. When the crumpled aluminum sits in his hands, he has never felt so rewarded in his entire life, smiling like he just won a million bucks.

Almost out of muscle memory, he begins smoothing it out, folding up all the right corners. He beams, stuffing the little token into his pocket, fingers itching to give it to you later.

“Thanks, Seungmin,” Felix smirks, taking a proud sip of his drink. Seungmin manages to stick his tongue out while trapped in a headlock.

“You suck,” he wheezes, throwing weak slaps onto Chan's bicep. Felix giggles, his phone buzzing against his jeans. Felix quite literally drops everything to pick it up, his heart singing the same song as your special ringtone.

From: My world 💙 Look, baby, isn’t it so beautiful? I took the pic while I was on my way to work. I actually swerved off the road to take the picture, haha. Just wanted to share it with you. Love you, baby!! [Image.png]

When he clicks the image, his phone is flooded with the most breathtaking view. The sky is stained like melting ice cream, cotton candy colors that burst around your hair, though that isn’t what Felix is looking at—he is looking at you. The moment he looks into your lopsided smile, Cupid shoots him all over again.

From: My star-light 🌟 Wow.

From: My star-light 🌟 No words.

From: My star-light 🌟 I didn’t know my girlfriend could look so stunning.

From: My star-light 🌟 Oh, wait, there was a sunset back there somewhere.

From: My star-light 🌟 Yeah, that was pretty too.

From: My star-light 🌟 Are we still on for tonight?? I miss youuu.

From: My world 💙 Oh my gosh, Lix, you’re making me blush, haha.

Seungmin chokes somewhere in the background. Felix doesn’t notice. Felix is submerged in the silky ocean of rose-colored love.

From: My world 💙 Of course we are!!

From: My world 💙 I miss you too, baby!!

From: My world 💙 Literally can’t wait to see you.

Felix is mid-text when his friends suddenly turn bright red, clambering to untangle themselves from the mess of limbs they got themselves stuck in. Felix doesn’t realize the reason Chan is suddenly fixing his hair or Seungmin is unruffling his shirt is because two of the most stunning women just walked past them. Felix was too focused on making time move faster.

ᡣ𐭩

Felix has never been to space, though he can accurately say that he has tasted the sky.

He sips the stars off your lips, every shared breath an inhale of the galaxy. Felix knows that somewhere, someplace time exists, but not here, not now, not with the blades of grass lacing through his hair; not when he’s pressing your chest flush against his, rolling around on the ground until the night sky is kissing the earth in his vision. Your laughs are buried in his neck when he gets too dizzy to continue, littering kisses on the sensitive flesh there. You pull away for only a moment, brushing a rogue strand of hair off his brow. You smile, dipping to press a soft peck to the tip of his nose.

The two of you had crept into this darkened backyard hours ago; you proposing a date under the stars only to share them between your lips instead. You have been locked in this position for lifetimes, and Felix has no plan to stop.

His palms lift to graze your cheeks before sealing your mouths together again. His soft laugh puffs against the seam of your lips, his smile curving against your own. “God, I am so in love with you.”

He was; he so, so, so was.

He was so in love with you, he had almost forgotten about his gift. Key word: almost.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he gasps, chasing your warmth when he pulls away, sitting up.

“What?” you playfully whine, biting back a grin, settling your hips against his thighs. He chuckles, poking a finger into his pocket, fishing out the gum wrapper heart.

“I know it’s not perfect,” he whispers, cupping something in his palm, “but I hope you still like it.” He rolls his fingers out bashfully, offering you the crinkled silver heart. He bites his lip, a faint blush falling over the apples of his cheeks. The little gift was by no means perfect; it was ripped, wrinkled, and just a little lopsided. Yet you can’t help the fondness that explodes in your chest. Still cradling the heart with care, you throw your arms around his neck, tackling him to the ground. Your chest flush against his, he grunts when you land upon the earth, smacking slobbery kisses all over his face. You don’t stop, not until he is flipping you over, now attacking you with equally wet kisses. Your giggles live in the balmy summer air.

To you, he was the sun; but to him, you were the universe 

ᡣ𐭩 seungmin + buying you a bouquet every time the old ones wilt

October 11th, 2020.

That was the last time your apartment smelled like something other than florals. That was also the first time Seungmin had ever bought you flowers—a simple gift for your one-year anniversary that spiraled into a four-year tradition. You don’t ever talk about it, and he certainly denies it, when you thank him for how the wilting tulips magically evolved into beautiful daylilies. You find it endearing, the faint blush that falls over his cheeks when he tries to convince you that it wasn’t him.

Now that you think about it, your white roses did seem to have a little bit of brown on them yesterday.

Mid-wipe of the bathroom counter, you rush down the stairs, almost sliding into the kitchen in your socks. Without fail, there they were: bright red tulips, replacing the withering roses that had been in the vase earlier. A spreading grin pulls at your lips as you check the stove clock, quickly connecting the dots.

You had been cleaning the bathroom most of the evening, your earbuds blocking the world out. He had probably heard you humming from upstairs, choosing the perfect time to sneak in through the door. You squeal, sprinting up the stairs to throw open your bedroom door. You expect to find him lounging on the bed, but instead, you find him below it, cradling a square object in his hands. His head whips around, panic falling over his features. He slams the lid shut before fumbling to shove it right back under the bed, much to your dismay.

“Hey, what?” You yelp, diving for the box. Seungmin blocks you, accidentally knocking it out of his hands, unfurling its contents all over the floor.

It looks like a garden just threw up in your bedroom.

Hundreds, thousands of differently shaped petals are scattered on your floor, tufts of colorful memories spread out like a silky scroll. First, you freeze. Then, you gasp; your muscles thawing like a flower unfurling in the snow. It hits you slowly, blossoming in your chest and spilling from your eyes—Seungmin hasn’t been throwing away the flowers he bought you. He’s been collecting them.

You didn’t realize you were crying—not until you spoke—“Seungmin, what is this?”—then you heard it, your voice withering and wet. When you finally go to meet his gaze, he can’t seem to look at you, tilting his head down in shame.

“W-Well I-I’ve just…” he begins, trailing off with a rub of his burning neck. “Fuck, this is going to sound so stupid,” he flushes, staring down at the single yellow petal that fluttered onto his folded thighs. Suddenly, Seungmin feels your thumb brushing over his knuckles, and something shoots through his skin, something that straightens his spine and evens his breathing.

“I-I’ve um…” This was harder than he thought it would be. “Been collecting them for a while now, I wanted to keep them for when we get married. Wanted to scatter them down the aisle…”

His voice gets smaller with every word, sinking into himself as though that will make the gravity of the sentence less exposed, less raw. For a second, as silence stretches between you, Seungmin feels so stupid, embarrassment painting his cheeks red. You must think he’s such a fool, must think he’s crazy for ever believing he could marry you—his thoughts stop the moment your lips meet his, palms pressed firmly against his cheeks.

“I love you,” you whisper in between breaths, kissing him until it feels like you can’t kiss anymore; until he falls back upon the feathery bed made of magnolias and memories; until, with a star-lit sigh, he pulls away, untucking the red of a dried rose tangled above your brow. Even surrounded by God's most beautiful creations, he can’t bring his gaze to fall from yours, your eyes and all the mesmerizing sparkles they hold.

Seungmin couldn’t trace the exact moment he fell in love with you. Rather, it bloomed slowly over time, a feeling that took root; wrapping around the slabs of his ribs.

With you, he grew, and all of a sudden, with every breath he inhales, he finds you fluttering in his chest. At first, it terrified him. Though, now he knows—some gardens never die.

ᡣ𐭩 jeongin + stalking your goodreads profile to annotate your favorite books

“So, you’re a stalker, huh?” you muse, brushing your palm over Jeongin’s shoulder, which was clearly not a good idea, cause no sooner do you make contact is he jumping twenty feet out of his skin. You throw your hands up when he swivels around, ripping off his headphones like they were going to materialize into a baseball bat.

“Crap, y/n, you scared the hell out of me,” Jeongin pants, a relieved smile pulling on his cheeks; grateful that the intruder was indeed his girlfriend and not a 6-foot-tall man in a scream mask. For a second, he wonders if you’re possessed, a lopsided smirk playing on your lips while you tweak out, kind of laughing, kind of nodding, kind of looking like you need an exorcism. Then it hits him. Hits him like a 200-pound dump truck, rendering him breathless once more. He puts Flash to shame by how fast he slams his laptop shut, scrunching his face in cringe. The laugh you let out is devastating, a full-belly guffaw that makes you double over, stumbling straight into his arms.

For a second, when the lamplight hits you just right, Jeongin has to stop.

His breath catches in his throat, taking all of you in. There you were, with your hair falling in messy tangles, your eyelids slightly smudged in black, your smile boxy and sun-bright, you were perfect, and you were sitting on his lap. If you didn’t start talking, he would have stared at you for hours—probably would have started drooling as well.

“So, this is how you’ve known all my favorite books, huh?” you tease, wrapping your arms around his neck. It takes him a hot second to gather himself, heart fluttering at the newfound proximity.

He stuffs his head into your neck, the heat of his cheeks burning into your skin. “Yeah…is that weird?”

“Is it weird?? Yang Jeongin, I’m pretty sure you just inadvertently proposed to me,” you reply, your tone light-hearted though you're dead serious.

“What?” He chuckles with a shy smile, leaning back.

“Yeah, I mean, you stalk your girlfriend’s Goodreads profile to read and annotate her TBR list. That is a proposal. I don’t make the rules.”

“Is that so?” he smirks, inching forward, your noses brushing together.

“Yeah,” you whisper, hot breath fanning across his lips, you lean in, finally sealing your mouths shut. Jeongin groans, your thumb swiping the nape of his neck. His heart pounds with a thousand different translations of 'I love you'.

“How many?”

He hums, slamming back down to earth, still a little bit dizzy.

“How many books have you bought?”

That sobers him up.

His eyes widen slightly before he bashfully chuckles, awkwardly scratching his ear. “Oh, uh…not that many.”

“Can I see them?” He’s two seconds from saying no, until you brush your lips against his cheeks, then his forehead, then the sides of his eyes, before, finally, he is tasting your grin instead, “Please?”

Well, how can he say no now?

He fiddles with the bottom of your shirt, biting his lip before sighing and pointing under his bed. “They’re all under there.”

You squeal, clambering off him to dive at the foot of his bed, sticking your hands into the dusty abyss below. It doesn’t take you but five seconds to find the box, though it takes you 5 minutes to actually pull the damn thing out, feeling more like a dead body than dead trees.

However, when you flip open the lid, the struggle is all worth it. Your jaw drops. Jeongin’s stomach flips upside down.

"Yang Jeongin, there’s no way..." You peer at him through dewy lashes, there had to be at least fifty books in this container. "You were planning on giving me all of these?"

"Well, yeah. Just...when I had enough time to annotate them."

"You've already given me like 10. How have you found enough time to read them?"

"I read them every night before I go to bed."

"And annotate them?"

He clears his throat, a faint blush falling over his cheeks like rose petals. "Yes."

"Where did you get the money for all this? These books have to have been like a thousand dollars."

"My check had just come in, and I knew how much you liked to read... I just wanted to do something nice for you. Why is this starting to feel kind of like an interrogation? Are you mad? Is this, like, really weird?" Jeongin can feel his eyes widen, anxiously shifting in place.

“One more question,” you step forward, pinching his chin between your thumb and forefinger. He shutters when you make contact, gaze fluttering down. Jeongin expects you to laugh, maybe demand that he takes them back, or the worst of them all tell him he’s too obsessed. What he doesn’t expect you to do is drag him forward, and smash your lips together.

“How are you so perfect?” you exhale, puffing onto his lips like a breath of his own. He was going to show you how, he was going to show you how all night long.

ᡣ𐭩

If you thought he was perfect then you definitely think he is perfect now.

The sun slips through the curtains, dyeing your sweaty skin in gold; your mouth is nuzzled into his neck, lashes tickling his skin every time you shift. He draws phantom circles over your naked waist, savoring this moment, soaking your body in until he can remember the feel of your form through memory alone. You stir, feeling his heartbeat pick up.

It must have been a dream that urged you to say it, because somewhere, on the edge of sleep, you murmur, “What’s your favorite story?”

He didn’t have to think about the answer, not when he had thought about it a million times before. Without hesitation, Jeongin whispers, “Ours.”

(I rushed tf out of some of these I'm sorry)

[kayakoto-enterprises]

The Poisonousness [1/2]

Cats are afraid of cucumbers. Read this like an issue. Sorry if the tone is off or out of character. Part 1 of 2!

tw for self harm or drug use mention. not explicit.

Tldr; when you wake up in a house next to a murderer, what would you do.

The feline eyesight is typically nearsighted. It helps that their sense of smell and sight work exceptionally well in the wild. A cat jumps in fear when it sees a cucumber, or any elongated colorful item really. "A snake" it yelps as it runs to avoid being bitten. As much as it is possible that a cat can come out alive of a quarrel like that animals prefer to avoid conflict. So they stay far, far, far away.

Julianne woke up before me this morning. She shook me awake when she realized we overslept. It was 9 in the morning yet I was not in a particular rush to go open the store. I woke up expecting that the dread would wash away soon. There was nothing signaling that the world would end again today. I should have taken care of her when I had it. Silenced it before it could cry for help in the streets. But this morning she was there in my kitchen eating cold spaghetti. On my spot was the cranberry pie I promised I would get to last night. She didn't have a sense of urgency in her face like she was fighting to keep herself together. It was like a morning before Thursday. "How fake" I thought.

Still I reached for a fork and sat across her. Her eyes laser focused on a sketchpad mapping out thumbnails. I began eating not saying a word. What else is she thinking? What else are you planning? What was she drawing? Was she discribing on paper what she saw?

She looks up to me from her lashes.

"Hi honey, not going to work?" Julianne smiled, yawning in between before her teeth instinctually chattered. The ice melted. I snort.

"Is there a bird outside?"

"No." She also laughed "Tic. It just happens. You going today?"

My mind weighed on whether I should come to work. I contemplated looking after her, observe every move, corner her with a question, or run to the forest. If I did go to the shop, would she make a run for it? Tell the police, tell her neighbors, tell the first person she saw? I imagined that morning the area around the block was taped off. Murmurs that were heard from the end of town. His. Fucking. Smile.

I had a moment to calm down. My eyes focused back to Julianne who was anticipating an answer. Her eyes furrowed with concern. We're still acting, aren't we?

"Are you okay, Sam?" She placed down her pencil to pick up her cup.

"I-- I will. Nobody is in a rush around here, anyway. Besides, I've gone to the shop at 12 pm when Charlie was around." I lied, quickly putting on a straight face. It was believable enough for her to shrug. She passed to me the tissue holder when she noticed a cranberry smear on my lower lip.

"Exactly why I chose to move here. It can be 1 pm right now and I wouldn't be so worried about wasting my time."

Her waning manners were easily detectable. She did not remain eye contact, her voice grew softer, and she ate quickly as if to be in a hurry. She stood up and quickly swept my clean plate to wash.

"Hey, there's still coffee if you like."

"No." I replied, void of emotion. "You can keep it."

It ate away in my brain. I kissed Julianne goodbye before heading out if the house. I turned on the engine and drove to the next street. Crawling back to the rear of the house I held my breath watching her clean the coffee maker. The mask came off. She was frowning, somber and deep in thought. Scraping the coffee grounds with her ears pulled back. Her tail slowly swaying. There was a timer above her head. She mentally counted the hours, minutes, the seconds before I came home. There's a murderer in this house. There's a snake next to me.

"It should come in a week. I'll call the sister store at Copper Shore to have it delivered next week." I jot down a reminder on my journal "Need anything else, Liv?"

The kangaroo looked back to the giraffe behind her. They both shook their heads before she proceeded to pay.

"How have you been feeling? It's unusual for you to open so late." Liv asked. She set what seems like dozens of bangles on the cashier top then continued writing her details down.

"Overslept. Had too much fun in bed." I joked "You two must've experienced the same most days, yeah?"

The kangaroo hid behind Kaku who was laughing along with me. He opened his backpack to look for something.

"How are you and Julianne lately?" He started after I put down the telephone.

"Great. Honestly she's the sleepyhead between the both of us."

"Can't believe it's gonna be a year until you two started dating!" Liv chimed in "Usually around this time a couple start bickering or they start growing resentment.."

"So far, nothing thankfully." I gritted. Kaku interrupted the awkward air as he handed out a white and blue envelope.

"Didn't you and Lola last 40 years? All it takes is communication and a lot of patience." "Honestly, all my other girlfriends were short term. I do have a better feeling about her." From the window of the door I spotted from across the street Julianne strolling by. She had a canvas bag and wearing white like a saint. I gulped.

"We're sorry for soliciting advice for your relationship. It's much more different than ours" Liv waved "by the way, RSVP for two!"

They exited the store as my eyes followed the cat as she walked out of sight. I locked the door and sprinted to the next corner.

Why do people creep themselves close to danger? They step into landmines, risking their time, their fortunes, their lives. Is it fun? Is it pleasurable? Do you really have nothing to lose? Disabling your senses. Ignoring the warning signs. Letting it consume them. Lesser vices, bad habits, horrid relationships- let the poisonousness inside. It strangles and sickens you 'til it kills you. Some sick indivuduals love the poisonousness. I have a sick girlfriend.

I found her at a craft store swatching inks. She kneeled looking at the color names, whispering them to herself. She settled on the rose ink, like usual. It was a rare color to find in a shop so niche but ever since she came around they've stocked at least 5 boxes a month. I took a closer look through the door. Julianne did not look at all tired or worried. She was...fine. Nothing indicated that she was going to go to the police. Nothing indicated she was gossiping about it to the shopkeeper. It was just a regular afternoon.

I finished a half day of business today. I breathed in as I came into the truck, hands shaky as the image of a year ago played in my mind. The town lit up tonight. At least there were families going out again. Couples huddling together into the theatre. Friends laughing to bars. I'm thankful that at least my home's heart is still beating, breathing and still sleeping.

The house lights were open. The living room was dim and there was nobody in the kitchen. Julianne's shoes were tucked on the side of the doormat, her spare keys laid on the ceramic plate. I called out for her but there was no reply. Shower. She must've come home just minutes ago. I switched the kitchen lights open and next to me was her sketchbook. The rubber bound the buldging contents. She opened up her new bottle of ink, swatching it on the receipt on top of it. I slowly took the rubber off and flipped through the pages, stickers and sticky notes flying to the chairs. I fought the temptation to savor each page, intent on a target but I still could not help but be enamoured by her talent. I arrived at a page full of rose ink, with shaky handwritten notes and water spillage. It looked recent. I bent down to read it clearly.

"OH GOD OH GOD OH FUCK" "SAM IS A KILLER!" "GOD I HOPE I'M DREAMING" "WHY DIDN'T SHE TELL ME? SHOULD I TELL HER? HOW WILL SHE REACT?" "AM I DREAMING? DRUNK? HIGH?" "SHOULD I CALL SOMEONE?"

"Is she a serial killer? Is she coming for me next?" "..Why didn't she just kill me?"

Next to these thoughts were little rectangles with what appeared to be incomplete triangles and a stick figure in the middle of it. Blank pages later there was an illustration of the crucifix she saw in pink and black. I could feel my breath picking up reading the note at the side: "Piece of Cake". A small hand rested on my side.

"Sam, what are you doing?" Came out like an exclaimation more than a question. Her tail puffed up and eyes shot wide open. I took a step forward to hold her hand but she jumped back. "Just looking at your art. You left it open." "You opened it." She sighed "Do you want to talk about it?" "What is It?" I was swimming back to the act. Julianne slumped back on the couch, crossing her arms and looking away. "Then let's talk about It."

I scooted next to her, tilting my head to meet her eyes. She frowned.

"Sam, I didn't mean to walk in on you..killing someone." "You have no business knowing if I kill something." I insisted, placing my foot down as early as now "I do what I like whether you like it or not." "Someone! That was someone, Sam." Julianne hissed "God but that's not it, I didn't go looking for you knowing you kill, I just innocently..saw you on the other side of that stream. I..I just wanted to ask you if we can eat together. Eat lunch together.."

I wanted to retort back why would she eat in a forest but I kept my mouth shut. She covered her face in disappointment.

"Why do you do it?"

"It centers me. Like a stress reliever. In the same vein as perhaps drugs or self harm. But this just works for me. It's natural."

She just nods. She frowns looking at her own scars and looks back to me. She's thinking I should get a therapist. What does she know about me?

"...Well. You know what I do now. What are you feeling?" She leaned back on my arm. We both looked into our blurry reflections on the television. We waited minutes until an answer came. "Sad. Mad. Confused. And..sort of relieved." That last answer shocked me. I looked back to her to make sure I was not next to another rodent. "Holy shit, why are you RELIEVED?" I raised my voice. "I wanna talk about something else. A secret." "What is it, Honey? You fucking kill people too? You wanna impress me with your body count?" "NO! No, I mean, partially but I don't kill people. I just wanted to share that I KILLED SOMEONE!" I instinctively covered her mouth, sitting her back down on the couch and shushing whatever she was yapping out next.

"Come on, now. Calm down. Let's talk like adults about this. I don't want you to get caught too, fine?" She placed her hand over mine as she attempted to calm herself down, looking at me before her voice drew into a whisper.

"Fine..yes, I've killed someone before. In my defense it's because I was friends with a..toxic friend. She belittled me, talked over me, just exploded her anger on me. I..I will admit that I hurt her too but she was just so unpleasant it drove me mad. I was so tired of being so small and worse than her that in a heated fight we..we..." Her eyes welled with tears thinking about the moment she secured it. The gentle paws I brushed knew the thickness of an artery. Those claws could be deadly if not handled right.

"Well..you understand, right? You kill, I've...killed. I won't kill again but you do get why I did, right?" The same bitter medicine. The same excuse. My eyes narrowed, pushing her into the couch.

"Don't patronize me. Don't fucking use me as an excuse. You tell me what animal you killed right NOW." I couldn't help it. Her eyes widened even more, ears pulled back and whiskers shaky.

"Sam. Sam she..she was a jackal. She's a jackal. A bigger animal. Sam, she could have killed me." "THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS!"

I slumped from the couch, laying down on the floor after yelling my throat out. I have never felt so afraid but so furious. I shut my eyes recollecting myself. Meanwhile Julianne stood from the couch, her feet shaking as she ran back upstairs. I curled up into a fetal position as the air got colder and the silence deafened. I felt a shake on my shoulder. I tossed back to look up. Her eyes were swollen, fur patched up illuminated by the faint warm light.

"I..I think I'll sleep at my apartment tonight. Thanks for having me here."

She gently shut the door after whispering goodbye. The only person who loved you in this whole world. How could you do that to her?

Oh well.

[julies-butterflies]

“One of us is starting to fall asleep.”-jukebox?

cuddle dialogue prompts  ( no longer accepting )                         ( read on ao3 )

By now, Julie knows that  Luke  and  sleep  don’t exactly get along.

Like... peanut butter and coleslaw. Studying and roller coasters. Alex and high school athletics. Luke and sleep are polar opposites, and flat-out don’t have time for each other. Whatever fundamental sequence of Luke’s DNA, whatever weird criss-cross firing of neurons in his head looks at a good night’s sleep, and decides, “nope, not for me...”

Well, Julie doesn’t  get it, but that’s how Luke’s made. Apparently, it’s how he’s always been, even when he was alive. Everyone else just has to deal with it.

“You’re keeping me up,” she announces, drawing her fuzzy blanket tighter around her shoulders.

Luke’s head shoots up, surprised — and sure, he’s got a right to be, considering it’s almost two in the morning. No sane person would be up this late. Not by choice, anyways... and Julie isn’t  choosing  to be awake herself. Something inside of her — one of those lightbulbs in her chest that blaze bright whenever the boys are near, that can feel them like a low, humming frequency even when they’re out of sight — is still awake, and buzzing. Late nights are like this. Whenever Luke can’t put himself to sleep — whether his brain is too loud, or his body too charged with energy — Julie feels it. She doesn’t want to, and definitely doesn’t enjoy it... but this is what her life has become. Being kept awake half the night by cute, insomniac ghosts.

He lowers his pencil slowly, and pulls his notebook against his chest. Luke sucks his cheeks, looking sheepish. 

“Sorry. I, uhh, I was just —“ He gestures vaguely around the darkened studio. A few faint snores echo from the loft, where Alex has set up a private space for himself. Reggie is face down on the sofa in a pile of blankets, hugging them to his chest like a kangaroo protecting its baby. (Julie’s going to have to get him a stuffed animal to snuggle one of these days; half the reason Luke doesn’t sleep, she suspects, is because Reggie’s such a blanket hog.)

The studio is dark except for a single light, glowing in the corner of the room. Luke is curled up there, with his notebook against his knees… but he wasn’t writing when Julie slipped in. He was glaring down at the page like it personally offended him. Now, he sets the notebook aside without a second glance, turning his full attention on her.

“Just felt like there was a song in my head, and I had to get it out. But it’s, uhh…” He gives his shaggy head a shake. “Not coming.”

“Maybe ‘cause you’re exhausted.” Julie crosses her arms. “It’s way past bedtime, Luke.”

“I’m a ghost, though.” He spreads his arms wide and leans back in his seat, like that’s something to be proud of. “Ghosts don’t  have  bedtimes.”

Without blinking, Julie crosses over to the couch and gives it a firm kick.

“Reggie? When’s your bedtime?”

Reggie snorts, popping his head up. “Ten-thirty,” he mutters… before faceplanting in the blankets again.

Luke rolls his eyes. “Reggie can have a bedtime if he wants to. I’m a free agent.”

“You’re an insomniac, and should probably talk to someone.”

“You know any good ghost doctors?”

Julie’s eye twitches. “We’ll  find  one.”

Tipping his head back towards the ceiling, Luke clicks his tongue. “I dunno, Jules, it’s been a while since my last checkup… I don’t got time for all the bells and whistles, you know? They’re gonna take that little hammer to my knee, and it’s gonna go right through me… they're gonna look for my heartbeat and be real confused... probably try to give me some spooky X-rays…” He gasps, and bolts upright. “Julie, they’re gonna find out I don’t have a skeleton!”

Okay, thinks Julie, the late hour is definitely getting to his head.

“Is that your excuse?”

The unexpected voice from the darkness sends them both jumping out of their skin. Luke flails, nearly falling out of his chair; blinking up at the loft, Julie’s eyes widen as a  phenomenal  mess of bedhead peeks out over the railing.

“We all know you’re afraid of needles. You haven’t had a booster shot in thirty years, Luke.” Alex glares down at them both. “Now, either shut up or go away, some of us are trying to sleep!”

Reggie holds up a hand, and mumbles something like “agreed,” into his pillow.

Clapping her palm over her mouth, Julie exchanges a sheepish glance with Luke. It takes every ounce of her self-control not to burst out laughing — Alex might actually start throwing things at them — but from the way Luke’s shoulders shake, she doesn’t trust him to hold out.

“Okay, sorry, we’re leaving,” she says in an hushed rush… and, before Luke can say another word, she snags him by the arm and pulls him with her.

They slip out the doors of the studio, and break into the humid night air. May in Los Angeles is just beginning to get hot -hot; warm enough to justify tank tops instead of sweatshirts, flip-flops instead of monster slippers. Julie’s pajamas aren’t anything interesting — Luke’s seen her in worse — but under the cool moonlight, his eyes still drink her in as if seeing her for the first time.

“You sleep with all those necklaces on?” he asks.

Okay, maybe he is seeing her for the first time, because Julie’s slept with her jewelry on since, like… sixth grade.

“You’re just noticing?”

“They’re pretty in the moonlight,” he replies, like it’s a foregone conclusion; then his brows furrow. “What if they choke you?”

“That’s not how it works, Luke.”

“Sure it is! All they need to do is get a little tangled up —“ He mimes, presumably, Julie doing acrobatics in her sleep. “And  wham,  you end up all strangled to death! I know we’ve got a gimmick, Julie, but we don’t gotta make it a full-phantom band so soon.”

“You say that like you’ve got plans for my death.”

“I mean…” He shrugs, the picture of innocence. “Not in the near future, but, y’know, we can't have you out-aging us…”

“Oh,” she says, beginning the long trek up the pathway to the house. “So I’ve got… two years before you guys decide to kill me. That’s reassuring.”

Luke follows after her, their footsteps echoing together. “Eh, we could stretch it to five. Six, tops. You’re tiny, you’ve still got a few good years left in you. Not like you’re gonna go all grandma on us  too  soon.”

Julie gasps, and swats at him. Luke accepts the hit to the chest with dignity, biting back a grin. He looks unfairly handsome in the moonlight… and Julie refuses to think about that, because it opens up a wole Pandora’s Box of issues, ranging from the obvious  (he’s a ghost eternally trapped at seventeen and, unless he somehow comes back to life through the power of music, I  am  going to get older than him someday)  to the serious  (he’s keeping me up at two in the morning).

Luke isn’t handsome. He’s a sleepless menace, and Julie shouldn’t entertain him a second longer.

They reach her door. Somehow, they come to a stop at exactly the same time, turning towards each other. Julie tugs her blanket tighter around her bare shoulders. Luke reaches out, and pulls the door open for her.

“I guess —“ he says.

“Yeah,” Julie agrees quickly. “Sounds good.”

“Great.”

“Great.”

“Goodnight, then?”

“Yeah. Goodnight.”

They smile at each other for a second, close-lipped and quiet… before something in Julie breaks, and she lays a hand on his arm. Somehow, he’s always so warm under her touch, so solid. He feels like a promise always kept… a steadiness, a certainty. A comfort.

“Come on,” she says softly, taking them both by surprise. “My bed has room for two.”

---------

He’s still so very warm, in bed next to her, with their legs tangled and bodies brushing whenever they move. It’s too humid for covers, so Julie’s got her favorite sheet, instead. As soon as Luke sees it, he billows it up into the air, and lets it fall down on top of them both like a parachute. Julie claps a hand over her mouth to hide her giggles. Even in the darkness of her bedroom — lit by the dimly glowing fairylights she only put on to keep Luke from tripping over her carpet — his grin is blinding. As the sheet flutters down over them both, she stretches her arms up to welcome it; he laughs so loudly, it’s a good thing her dad and brother can’t hear.

“This,” she huffs, once they’re both hiding under the covers, “this isn’t what we should be doing. It’s two in the morning.”

“Yeah. You’re right. Totally right.” Luke’s quiet for a moment — before shaking the covers again, causing a wave of air to roll over them. He makes a ridiculous whoosh! noise, and Julie snorts.

“Stop!” She swats at his shoulder again; the sound is harsher than the impact. Luke yelps and curls in on himself, feigning a mortal injury. Over his groans and moans and  “Julie, how could you”s,  Julie can’t restrain another fit of giggles.

Oh god, she’s gone for this boy. She really is.

It’s two in the morning, and she’s in hysterics in her bedroom over a boy no one else in the world can see… and he’s smiling at her like she’s the brightest star blazing in the sky, and his legs are brushing hers, and she can feel the pulse of his heartbeat, the warmth of his breath… which shouldn’t be possible, because he’s  dead.

Luke reaches up. Gently, he brushes a stray curl from Julie’s temple. His hand lingers, and Julie feels dizzy.

“This feels like heaven,” he says softly.

Julie’s breath catches.

“I… thought you said you’d never get there.”

“Yeah, well…” When he chuckles, his breath ruffles her hair. “I’m not much of a believer in the ‘all rockstars go to heaven’ kinda thing… I don’t even know if I buy into that stuff, period.” He shrugs, and glances down, at the bare inches of space in between them. “But this… is what it’d feel like, I think. Right here, with you. This kind of forever.”

“With...” She swallows past a throat that is suddenly too dry, forcing words together in a head that reverberates with  heaven  and  you. Forever. God, can they make this last forever?

Instead of speaking, her hand finds Luke’s in the darkness. Their palms press; their fingers intertwine. He is restless beneath her touch, all calluses and carelessness and nervous energy… but Julie holds him until she feels him relax, then slowly raises their hands up between them.

“I’d like that,” she whispers. “To stay here forever.”

His eyes shine bright. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She swallows. “As long as it’s with you.”

These are exactly the sort of confessions that could not be made any time other than late in the night, or early in the morning — that funny liminal space of existence, the hours where nothing is really real, and everything feels like it matters too much. Julie is floating, and Luke is right here with her. He’s smiling inches away from her face… and if she wanted to lean over, to close the distance between them, it would be as easy as breathing.

She doesn’t, though, because this moment feels sacred. She won’t claim it selfishly for herself — won’t turn it into something it’s not. This moment is shared, between her and Luke... secrets whispered in the dark for their ears alone. It should stay that way.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes softly, like it’s all he knows for sure.

“You’re amazing,” she replies, in the same voice.

“You’re a star.”

“You’re inspiring.”

“You make me feel alive again.”

“So do you.”

They exhale in the silence, the words floating through the air around them. Julie imagines she can see them glowing in the darkness. If she wanted, she could pluck them out of thin air, tuck them away in her dream box and save them forever. This feels like the sort of moment that belongs there — halfway between dream and waking, almost too good to be true.

For a while, they don’t talk at all. Luke plays with her hair, and Julie twines their fingers. Their breaths match each other’s in the silence. It feels like floating down a lazy river, and slowly, Julie can feel herself being carried away.

She’s only aware of her eyes getting heavier when Luke’s fingers graze her brow, and she can’t force her lids open to look at him.

“Looks like one of us is starting to fall asleep,” Luke teases, his voice soft.

Julie humms, and feels herself smile. “You.”

“Not me.” His voice is smiling, too. “You.”

“You need t’ sleep.” She exhales, and sees it ruffle his hair like leaves on a tree. His nose scrunches up. He doesn’t look drowsy — not like he’s drowning in it, like she is — but he’s not wide awake, either. His head is quiet, his soul is calm; the hive of bees buzzing in Julie’s chest has given up the ghost for tonight. (Little Luke-shaped bees, with beanies and guitars, who keep flying into everything because they’ve got too much energy…)

She bursts into giggles again at the thought. They spill from her lips like honey; she’s too tired to silence them, nevermind hide her grin. Instead, she slumps against Luke, muffling herself against his shoulder. He smells like pine needles and sunshine. His arms wrap around her back to steady her, and she can feel him smiling against her, and Julie thinks…

Julie thinks…

Forever.

“What’s so funny?” he murmurs into the crown of her head.

“Bees,” she replies, and giggles again.

“Oh yeah?” He hums, like this makes perfect sense. “I mean, yeah, they’re pretty hilarious.”

“Mmm.” She presses her face against his shoulder, and decides to stay there. “Mmm.”

For a long moment, he’s completely still — like the world’s most realistic stuffed animal, the coziest pillow ever made — before his hand tentatively begins to massage between her shoulder blades, running up and down her spine.

“You good, Julie?” he murmurs softly, and Julie humms again.

“Stay with me,” she manages to say.  Forever. “Sleep here… with me.”

Luke’s caress feels like a lullaby. The lips that graze her temple are a promise.

“Don’t worry, Julie,” he murmurs. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Somehow,  forever feels good enough for tonight.

[silverwhiteraven]

Borne of the Stars - Chapter 15 - An MLB Kryptonian AU

Tag List: @weird-pale-blonde-person @kris-pines04 @catthhay @abrx2002 @amayakans @vixen-uchiha @heldtogetherbysafetypins @raisuke06 @dorkus-minimus @mopester-is-here @moonlightstar64 @toodaloo-kangaroo @the-navistar-carol @elspethshadow @chocolatecatstheron​ @ivymala07  Questionable Tags that don’t work?: @daminett4life @captainartsypants  @annabellabrookes  @eve-valution

[Author’s Note: Oh Hi there! This fic is now over a YEAR old! Woah!! ]

[ Summary: Ladybug figures out her Lucky Charm, just in the nick of time. ]

[ Posted on Ao3 ] [ Chapter 1 ] [ Chapter 14 ] [ Chapter 16 ]

Ladybug was up high, holding on to the top of the Eiffel Tower like a cliche reenactment of that Dancing in the Rain scene where the man is swinging around a lamp post. Only, she’s over 300 metres above the ground instead of just one, and she’s admittedly quite terrified of looking directly downward. Still, she pushes down the instinct to be terrified and looks out, beyond the surrounding park below, towards the glowing lines still spreading through the city.

“Map, roads, landmarks, personal pins, lost items…” Ladybug’s mind tried to piece together all the little clues she had gathered. She looked down to her hand, a small roll of red paper clutched in it. Letting it unfurl, she took note of the various numbers and letters printed in black ink. There was almost a pattern to it, though they made no particular sense to her.

“Map, landmarks, numbers, map, landmarks, numbers,” she repeated to herself, before it clicked. “Numbers and personal pins, all on a map. These are coordinates-! Ack! ” She held tighter to the tower, her momentary distraction making her tilt a bit too far out.

Still continuing to avoid looking down, Ladybug took one more glance to the skyline, and a certain marker caught her eye. It was one of the unique ones, further out towards the edges of the growing map. It was moving. But it wasn’t along any of the main roads. At least not above ground. And the Akuma had mentioned the subway.

“More than just a map,” Ladybug realized. “Slowly growing like a buffer, keeping track of places and active transit routes... This is a GPS! Of course! Atlas lost something, now they’re trying to track it down!” She looked down toward her hand, “My Luck Charm must be-” and she saw the ground, far, far below.

And Ladybug thought she was scared earlier when she was swinging precariously through the streets of Paris by the cord of a yo-yo.

It didn’t help that an unexpected beeping suddenly invaded her ears just as wind whipped hair into her eyes, and by instinct both hands went to her ears, eyes screwed shut.

Ladybug gasped, breath catching and body stiffening as she realized she was tilting away from her perch on the tower once again. Only now, she didn’t have a hand holding her to it, and the arm that finally reached out to grab for something, anything , was a moment too late.

There was no scream as she fell, only the rush of air around her, contrasting to the lack of breathing in her chest. Her two masked eyes opened out of fright, flinching from the wind. For a moment, she didn’t know which way was up or down, until her peripheral saw the top observation deck pass by in a blur.

She reached for her yo-yo clumsily, and knowing every second counted toward saving herself only made her muscles refuse to cooperate. Barely managing to get a finger through the yo-yo’s ring, Ladybug threw her only weapon out, towards the beams of the tower, hoping beyond hope that it would catch hold.

Her luck held, and the yo-yo caught.

But she was still falling, of course, and as the ground grew closer and the string drew taunt, Ladybug squeaked as she was suddenly swinging into the force of her own pendulum.

She swung past the ground between the legs of the Eiffel Tower and went back upwards, straight up through the open center of the first observation deck.

Her breath caught again as gravity slowed her upward trek, and for a moment, she felt herself suspended in the open air.

That moment stretched longer.

Before her brain could question the fact she was closer to floating than actually reaching the peak of upward lift, gravity reclaimed Ladybug, and she was falling again.

“Ack! Gotta stop gotta stop-!”

Tugged at the string of her yo-yo as she went, and it expanded, dropping her closer to the ground than before. At the moment she swung parallel to the ground, she gave another tug, and the yo-yo’s main body, wherever it had caught on the tower above, let itself free, and Ladybug tumbled into a roll across the ground.

“Owch… I really need to get better at this,” She grumbled to herself as she staggered back to standing. A black clad figure slid into place beside her, a hand reaching out to give balance, the other with an extended baton held out defensively.

“You sure do, Buggy,” Oncilla said. “Welcome back to the battle. Sorry I couldn’t catch you myself, Atlas is surprisingly tough to distract.”

Ladybug shook her head, “Think nothing of it, I’m fine. Thanks for giving me the time I needed to figure out what to do.”

“No problem! So what’s the plan now?” Oncilla asked as she picked up a still unsteady Ladybug and jumped out of the way of Atlas as they charged forward. It had barely been a minute since she left the battle to call for her Lucky Charm, but Ladybug already felt like the last time she had been moving around this much had been an hour ago. She was really going to need to get used to this whole stop-and-go process, and hopefully soon.

“My Lucky Charm gave me coordinates. I noticed that this whole thing, all the changes to the city, it’s a giant GPS system, tuned in to the Akuma’s own needs.”

“How does that help us fight it?” Oncilla asks, puzzled.

“We- we might not have to, I think that’s the point. Sometimes, the best thing to do in a fight is to not fight, but to help ,” Ladybug realized. “Quick, put me down, I need to get Atlas’s attention.”

Oncilla did as asked, and Ladybug immediately started waving her arms over her head.

“Truce! We call a truce!! I know how we can help each other without needing to fight!”

The Akuma paused in their attack, before flying straight to Ladybug and stopping directly in front of her, an intimidating figure that made the new hero flinch. Oncilla stood close, tense.

“Explain,” Atlas commanded with a voice of steel. “You have 30 seconds.”

“You’re connected to the map that's imposed over the city, right?” A nod in response. “Well, I think we found your items that you lost. At least, sort of.”

“ Sort of? ” they growled, prompting the Black Cat user to step closer and growl back.

“You’ll have to confirm it for us,” Ladybug appeased gently. “I have coordinates, they should lead you where you need to go since you know how to use the map. But…” She paused, glancing at her partner before continuing more confidently, “But we have to trade. Your Akumatized item, for my Lucky Charm. You get what you need, and we get what we need. A fair trade, right?”

There’s a pause, stretched out by held breaths and the flickering of a butterfly outline over eyes.

Atlas glanced at Ladybug's earrings, just as they started to beep for a second time, and the hero gulped. Then, the supervillain stepped back.

“You have a deal,” Atlas proclaimed, clearly ignoring Hawk Moth’s interruption. The two heroes let out relieved breaths. “But you’re coming with me. If I don’t get what I want, you’re both going to pay dearly.”

Oncilla and Ladybug nod in understanding, Ladybug a bit nervous in contrast to Oncilla’s confidence. No, it was pride, directed at Ladybug. “You’re doing great, Little Lady,” the Black Cat hero reassured with a grin. “This will be over soon. Let’s go.”

And with that, Ladybug hands her Lucky Charm to Atlas, who in turn hands over their own item. It was nothing more than small, shaped sticky notes meant for organization. It felt unnerving in Ladybug’s hand, something so small and simple able to be used for something so strong and menacing.

The two heroes then followed Atlas as they pinpointed the exact location of the coordinates. It was near one of the personal landmarks, a place Ladybug didn’t know, but Atlas clearly knew it. After some frustrated searching, another round of beeping from the earrings, and a couple tense moments where the heroes thought the Akuma might blow their top, the missing items were found.

Atlas held the pack of calligraphy and felt tip pens like they meant the world to them.

“Thanks,” they said quietly, genuinely. They handed the no longer needed Lucky Charm back to Ladybug with an appreciative nod. “Do what you need to do. I don’t need Hawk Moth any longer. I can deal with my own battles myself.”

Ladybug turned to Oncilla, smiling big with the overwhelming emotions of an unexpected victory. “Want to do the honors?” she asked as she held out the Akumatized sticky notes.

“I’d be happy to,” Oncilla purred, taking the item in her ringed hand. “Cataclysm!”

The sticky notes disintegrated, and a dark butterfly emerged like it was hatching from a cocoon. Ladybug, with an encouraging nudge from Oncilla that also served as a reminder, took out her yo-yo once more, activated its ability to purify, and caught the little insect.

“Bye-bye, little butterfly,” she whispered to the creature as it fluttered away. Then, with a deep breath, she clutched the Lucky Charm before tossing it high; “Miraculous Ladybug!”

Ladybug jumped back with a squeak, surprised by the sudden burst of black, red, and white magic from the item, watching in awe as it swept down the streets and into the distance.

A fourth set of beeps rang in her ears, drawing her attention away with a start.

“I need to go! Oncilla, can you-?”

“I can cover the civilian and make sure they get home; don’t worry, I got this! See you later, Your Ladyship ,” the other hero reassured and teased with a playful wink.

Ladybug giggled and flushed at the whole embarrassing ordeal. “Yes, of course- See you around then, Lancelot ,” she managed to return the tease through her flustered state, before throwing out her yo-yo and pulling herself back towards home.

[dessarious]

The Angel of Death Pt20

Inspired by this Story Starter by @someone-ev

So the smart thing to do would be to wait an post this tomorrow but I’ve proven many times that I have no impulse control so here’s another chapter.

AO3   Prologue   Beginning   Previous   Next

Chloe didn’t seem to know how to respond but Tris’s attention was shifted to a group of kids that looked her age walking towards them from the school. One of them looked really familiar. Before she could even grasp what she was seeing she spoke.

“Is that Nino?” Chloe turned to see what she was looking at and nodded.

“Yes, and see that tall buff one? That’s Kim.” Tris couldn’t help but give her a disbelieving look.

“You’re kidding right? That chubby kid who constantly threw sand at me and screamed bloody murder about me giving him cooties turned into that?” Chloe just grinned at her and nodded. “Good for him I guess. Hope his attitude has gotten better.” It was so strange to see people that she knew after so long, though she should have expected it. She was suddenly very glad she’d thought to hide her face as the group got closer.

She studied the threads connecting the group and wasn’t sure what to make of it. All of them had the pale green of friendship connecting them to the others, except one of the girls in front. All the strings that went to her started out green but as they got closer to the girl turned into a sickly brownish yellow color. She’d never seen that before. Even stranger was that all her strings seemed to have that taint on them. Family, friends, even the gray ones. How odd. As they got closer the one with the taint stopped and looked at the bakery before giving out an exaggerated sigh.

“What’s wrong girl?” The girl next to her in glasses asked but all of them looked concerned. The one with the taint faked a surprised look for some reason before answering.

“It’s nothing, really.” She looked around to gauge the reactions of the group before continuing. “It's actually a really big secret so I shouldn’t say anything.” That got the interest she was looking for if the gleam in her eye was any indication. Tris shared a confused look with Chloe.

“You can tell us Lila, you know we’ll keep it to ourselves.” Tris could only roll her eyes. Between the number in the group and the fact that they were on a busy street and not keeping their voices down, there was no way anything would be kept secret. Considering the glance the one called Lila was giving her and Chloe, she didn’t want it to be a secret.

“Thanks Alya, I know I can trust you guys. It just that well… I used to live there.” Tris saw Kim and Nino share a look but most of the class looked confused.

“It’s a bakery…” Alya was looking between Lila and the building obviously trying to make a connection. Finally Kim cleared his throat.

“No one has lived there since the Dupain-Chengs were killed.” His voice actually cracked a little on the last word. Tris wasn’t sure what to make of the look on Lila’s face. It was pleased maybe, or satisfied? The threads coming from her seemed to be pulsing with the taint. Tris watched as she put on a sad expression. Even as bad as she was with people she could tell it was fake.

“Well... I’m sure you all know that the daughter was never found.” There were a bunch of nods. “Well, that’s me. I’m Maria.” Nino looked like his brain had melted and Kim seemed about to throw up. The rest of the group was eating it up. Then Chloe exploded.

“Marinette!” Tris jumped and the entire group froze. “Her name was Marinette you opportunistic bimbo. How dare you!” Tris actually had to hold her back. Lila started the waterworks.

“Maria is what my family and close friends called me. I can’t believe you would accuse me of lying when you were listening in on a private conversation.” Dear god the liar needed to shut up before Chloe killed her.

“Yeah. How dare you eavesdrop on us.” Alya obviously couldn’t sense danger, but it did split Chloe’s focus long enough for Tris to get a word in.

“If you want a private conversation then speak in private, or at the very least don’t pitch your voice in a way specifically meant to carry. She meant for us to hear it she just wasn’t expecting to be called out.” A few of the group seemed to be thinking about her words.

“Of course I didn’t expect for someone to argue with me about my name.” She was still squeezing out tears and some of the group were trying to console her.

“It’s not your name. You don’t even look like Marinette. Wrong skin tone, wrong bone structure, wrong hair color, wrong eye color, wrong everything!” Tris needed to find a way to stop this before Chloe got so worked up she outed her. For all she was a better person and trying to be a friend Tris didn’t want to risk it.

“How would you know?” Before either of them could respond to Alya, Nino spoke up.

“Well for starters her picture was everywhere for over a year after she disappeared, dudette. Everyone who lived in Paris at that time knows what she looks like.” There was more muttering in the group and Tris could see the calculations running in Lila’s eyes. She swore she could feel the moment the girl decided to make her last fatal error.

“That was a decoy, to make the people who were after me think I was gone. The Mayor set it up himself because I’m best friends with his daughter, Zoey.” Tris locked eyes with Chloe and felt an odd sensation in her chest. Then they both burst out laughing.

AO3   Prologue   Beginning   Previous    Next

Ko-Fi

Tag List

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[pl-panda]

Damienette arranged marriage: Part 10

Okay. You will probably either love me or try to kill me for this one. Good corruption is so hard to write. 

Credits: Miraculous Ladybug team for the elements I take from MLB show. DC for their characters, @ozmav for the AU, @maribat-archive for giving me access to so many different stories to have take inspirations from, @thyladyanput for idea for Chat Damian and me for the plot.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Part 9

Damienette arranged marriage: Part 10

NEXT

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Chloe sat there, not sure what to make of the discussion. She was about to say something when something crashed through the window. The three teens starred at the form of Chat Noir. He was looking different. His ears and tail were real instead of accesories and instead of bell on his neck he had only a choker with word 'Marinette' written on it.

"My Purrincess! I come to save you!”

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

One month ago

Adrien was angry. His lady just got married. And it wasn't with him. Something was wrong with this idea. He already had everything planned. He knew what suit he would wear, he had a general idea about the dress, he even chose the place. HIs Lady would not refuse him. And yet, he was too late. She told him several times that she was in love with someone else and now she married this someone. Someone who was not him.

He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to punch something... someone. And not just anyone, but this one person who stole his lady from him. His mind was racing, trying to remember every single detail she revealed. The most important so far was marriage, but he decided to leave that for the last. She definitely liked the Gabriel Brand and often recognized him. She thought she loved someone, but she never revealed many details. Ladybug also...

"I know what you are doing and better drop it." Plagg sounded next to him.

"I can't. She made a mistake. We are destined to be with each other Plagg."

"Are you having a stroke or did Lila steal your last brain cell?" the kwami scolded him harshly. "If ladybug chose someone else, then you should respect her choice and roll with it. Besides, don't you need to be eighteen to marry in this century?"

"She loves me. She just doesn't know it yet! And age is just a number."

"As is the cell number she will end up in if she is with you." Plagg deadpanned.

"No. I... but... We... You said Chat Noir and Ladybug are destined to be together!"

"Yes, but not as a couple you moron. I swear I am always the one who gets the dummies..." Plagg moaned to himself. "The two miraculous are destined to be used together or they will create imbalance. There can never be Ladybug without Chat Noir for a prolonged amount of time or we risk another pompei."

"I don't care! She's my lady! We are made for each other!" Adrien almost screamed.

"Tikki help me... You are an idiot." Plagg just stated and phazed through the wall to get to his hidden camembert stash. He was too hungry to deal with mr. possessiveness right now.

Adrien huffed at the actions of his Kwami. The gluttonous cat knew nothing. He was Ladybug's perfect partner in both fighting Akumas and in life. With that thought he fell asleep.

----------

Next day school seemed plain and boring. Just like he expected Lila made sure Marinette did not have a chance to explain herself. Why did this two girls couldn't get along. He sighted. From his place he could not really see Marinette in the back, but he was almost certain she would be okay. This was Marinette he was thinking about. She was pretty much their everyday-ladybug. He frowned at the thought. Stupid someone. If only he could punch this person in the face.

Plagg didn't talk to him at all, choosing to instead stash himself with ungodly amounts of cheese. Who needed this lazy cat anyway? It's not like he had to be Chat Noir. He could do whatever he wanted.

After classes he tried to speak with Marinette, but she just brushed him off and run to her home. He just shrugged. She was strong, smart and resourceful. She was almost like Ladybug except without powers. And she was just as pretty. Maybe even prettier because she had no mask covering half of her face. But she still wasn't his Lady. Adrien sighted as he got into the limousine. The Gorilla took him home. Like always the bulky man only grunted instead of speaking. If someone replaced him with a semi-shaved gorilla most people wouldn't notice. Adrien would, but probably no one else.

When they arrived at the mansion Nathalie was already waiting for him. She had her usual emotionless expression, but Adrien noticed the corners of her lips were slightly upward.

"Adrien. Your father wants to speak with you." She started.

"Father? What does he want?" Adrien asked as politely as possible. It was very unusual for Gabriel to demand a meeting with his son.

"It's best if he tells you himself." Nathalie did not reveal anything.

"Okay." Adrien smiled sadly. Usually in this kind of situations it meant something bad.

She led him to the atelier where his father stood by the drawing board.

"Welcome son. Nathalie, leave us." Gabriel's voice showed surprising amount of emotions for him. The assistant nodded and walked out of the room. The father and son were now alone in large room. "Come here Adrien." The older man did not need to make any hand gestures. His voice emphasized the order enough.

"What is it Father. Nathalie said you wanted to speak with me."

"Yes, but not here." Gabriel simply shut down all further questions. Adrien stood next to him curious when the older man pressed several buttons that were parts of the painting of Emilie. The ground below them lit and Adrien found himself on an elevator going down. A large hall lit in front of him. There were rows of lanterns on the walls and a single catwalk in the middle that led to some green area at the far end. There was some tube that Adrien couldn't see the content of. Behind everything was a giant symbol that looked like a flower, but the young Agreste couldn't shake the feeling it reminded him of something more malicious.

They stepped off the platform and Gabriel walked to the tube on the far end without saying a word. Adrien just followed him. It was not possible for the two of them to walk side by side so he only saw the tube again once they got to the platform.What was inside froze his blood.

Inside laid Emilie Agreste, his mother.

"F-Father...?" His voice was almost just a whisper. "Wh-What is all of this?"

"Your mother is very ill my son. This stasis chamber is the only thing keeping her alive."

"Why isn't she in hospital? Everyone believes she died." Adrien was still shaken by this. He had no idea what to think. He did not pay slightest attention to small flock of white butterflies on the edges of this green island.

"No hospital on earth could possibly help her. Only a miracle could save her. Or a wish."

The meaning behind last word hit Adrien with the speed of rushing train. The silence that fell after was so loud that he could hear the flapping of butterfly wings.

"N-No... That can't be... You... But she... We... I... She... Ladybug... Mother... Father... My lady..." Adrien started babbling incomprehensibly. His father watched his son's eyes jump between the stasis pod, himself, the ring on his finger and the window behind them. Gabriel walked to his son and gently placed a hand on boy's shoulder.

"Adrien. Listen to me. I know you are confused, but everything I do is to unite our family. I am sorry I didn't tell you before. You were still young when this happened and I didn't want to burden you. But I can no longer see you so secluded. Suffering from the ignorance. I don't want you in anymore danger. Help me son. I don't think I can do this without you. I want to see our family together." As Gabriel spoke to his son, the expression on boy's face changed. It was that of acceptance. Older man had to hold the urge to grin. It was all coming together. They would finally be one, happy family together.

"But... My Lady..." Adrien was still torn between his loyalties.

"What are you talking about?!" Father was losing patience.

"Ladybug. My Lady. She..." the boy started and Gabriel finally caught the flow. All the dots connected. He had to improvise. It could be all or nothing.

"And what did she for you my son? She doesn't care about you. In neither forms. Not really. What does Ladybug really know about you?"

Adrien grasped. Only now he realized that he revealed himself before his supposedly worst enemy. But it didn't matter. His father was right. Ladybug didn't care about him. She chose someone else and abandoned him. He didn't owe her anything. But he did owe his mother everything. He pulled off the silver ring from his finger and closed his fist around it.

"Plagg. I renounce you!" There was a sudden black zoom and the ring changed to black color with paw symbol on it. Adrien then offered the ring to his father.

"Here. If it helps bring mother back... take it." There was complete resignation in his voice. Adrien gave up.

Something in Gabriel's cold heart actually felt some guilt. He didn't want to break Adrien to bring Emilie back. Instead of taking the ring he closed boy's hand around it, cupping it in his own. "No son. I told you I can't do this alone. I want... I need your help. We can bring your mother back together."

"Thank you father. Your trust means the world for me."

——————————————————————————————————–

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[pigeons-scrawlings]

"Oh no! There's two of us, and only ONE BED!" Ship of your choice! 💕

Heck yea, hittin' me with a classic! (Btw, sorry this took forever, my dumb brain kept getting stuck XP)

Alright, let's give this a shot, I'm going with Speeding Bullet cuz it's my OTP :D

Oh, and something to note: I know most people tend to headcanon Snipers first name as Mick but I call him Richard/Rich.

And idk why but I like to think that Snipes and Scout know each other's real names so yeah, their names will be used a few times here.

Anywho, on to the fic!

_____

Scout's been dealing with a lot of feelings lately that he doesn't know what the hell to do with. It's been throwing him off his game pretty badly, and he's gotten very irritable.

He's been picking more fights with his teammates and he can't seem to keep a clear head during matches.

He'd talk to the one friend he's got on the team to vent and get some advice but...

His one friend happens to be the cause of these issues.

He doesn't know how or when exactly it started, things were fine and they could hang out and chat no problem, but then one day all of sudden he can hardly hazard a glance at Sniper without his thoughts wandering to... things.

Things like... How great his voice sounds. How wonderful his eyes are. How much he'd like to touch him, to-

'Jesus, there I go again...' Scout thought as he sighed deeply and put his face in his hand.

A hand on his shoulder snapped him back to reality. Oh yeah, he was talking with Snipes.

"You alright, mate?" Sniper looked at him with clear concern written on his face. Scout brushed his hand off "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

Sniper crossed his arms and his expression became more stern "Scout, I know you, something's clearly off. Something's been off for a while now, everyone can see that."

"It's nothin', really"

"Jer, you know you can talk to me, what's-"

"I said I'm fine!" He said that probably a bit louder then he should have, he practically yelled. Scout sighed again and quickly left, leaving Sniper a bit shocked and very worried.

Scout locked himself away in his room and spent the next few hours thinking and sketching out his emotions.

"What the hell am supposed to do..." he muttered to himself as he half-heartedly continued on his drawing.

"The hell can I do? Jus' walk up an' be like 'hey you've been the subject of my fantasies lately'?" Jeremy sighed again and tossed his sketchbook and pencil onto his bed.

He laid back on the bed, put his hands over his face and groaned. 'Even if I did, what would even happen? I don't even know if he... if he even swings that way. With my luck, he'd probably just hate me, think there's something wrong with me.'

He jumped when he heard knocking at his door. "Scout" Fuck. It's Sniper. Fantastic. "Scout I know you're in there, an' that you don't want to talk but I need to speak with ya."

Scout didn't move, hoping Sniper would just go away.

"Jeremy, don't make me get heavy to break your door!" Goddamit. "Alright, fine! Jus' gimme a sec!" He hopped up from the bed and quickly went and opened the door.

Scout leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed, giving Sniper a half-hearted glare. "What?"

"We're going on vacation."

"What??"

"You need a break, everyone else needs a break from you, and I'm not comfortable with leavin' you alone right now, so you and me are gonna take a little trip." Sniper tried to give an encouraging smile.

"You gotta be kiddin' me. No." He stepped back and attempted to close the door only to be stopped by Sniper shoving his foot in.

"No choice, mate, like I said, everyone else needs a break from whatever the hell has been going on with you. Either take a trip with me or, well, I don't know what they'd do but I'm sure you wouldn't like it."

Jeremy mulled over the idea for a few moments before reluctantly opening the door.

"Alright. Alright fine, when we leavin'?"

~Time Skip~

The drive out was quiet. Sniper occasionally tried to make small-talk, to lighten the mood but of course, it wasn't doing much.

He wasn't pushing questions though, Scout could be thankful for that.

After another bout of silence, he decided to be the one to break it this time "So, ya gonna tell me where we're goin' yet?"

"You'll see in a bit, we're almost there."

And yet again, the Scout sighed. Sniper wasn't wrong though, in a just about ten or fifteen minutes the path they were following through the woods came to an end.

They were now in a wide clearing. Sniper parked the vehicle and they both hopped out.

'A campground?' There was a well-used fire pit surrounded by logs for seating and a few hiking trails here and there leading back into the woods.

Sniper grabbed a few bags and made his way over to the pit. Scout looked around to see if there was anything interesting to be found here.

He noticed some old, worn-looking railing on the furthest side of the clearing and went over to investigate. On the other side of the railing was apparently a cliff.

As Scout leaned over a rail to peer down it Sniper made his way over to him, grumbling a bit as he went.

Scout glanced at Sniper "Y'alright there, Snipes?" he asked as he continued examining the bottom of the cliff.

Sniper sighed "Well, looks like I somehow forgot somethings, namely the sleeping bags."

As Scout turned to look up at the tall man he was suddenly struck with the mental image of grabbing Sniper by his shirt collar to yank him down for a kiss.

Scout coughed and leaned back on the railing, trying to look calm and casual and praying to God he wasn't blushing

"Ok, so? We can just sleep in your van."

"I only got the one bed in there, mate."

"Oh. Right."

"Yeah. So unless ya feel like sharin', " Sniper began with a mildly amused tone, as he turned to walk back to the camper "I'll just take the floor."

Scout was glad Sniper had turned away because he was definitely blushing at the thought of sharing a bed with him "What? Wait a second!"

Scout quickly walked after Sniper, grabbed his shoulder, turned him back around and gave him an incredulous look "No way, man! I'm not makin' you sleep on the floor!"

"It's fine Jer"

"No, I'll take the floor."

"Wha- Jeremy no, you have the bed, it's fine. Besides, whatever's got you stressed'll just be made worse if ya don't sleep comfortabley."

"I don't care, just- ugh. Alright, ya'know what?" Scout immediately regretted what he was about to say but he didn't stop himself

"We're sharin' the bed!" and with that, he stomped off towards the pit, where Sniper had apparently already gotten a fire going

"Now get yer ass over here, your fire looks like it's dyin'!"

Sniper stood there a moment, a bit stunned, before moving to follow "... Ok, mate."

~Time Skip 2: Electric Boogaloo~

This place had a very relaxing atmosphere, it helped ease Scouts nerves a fair amount. As the sun finished setting the two men were sitting near the fire, eating s'mores and talking.

Sniper was recounting an interesting creature encounter he once had.

"Bullshit, that did not happen," Scout said through a mouthful of graham cracker and marshmallow.

"It's true mate! It was like a jackalope but big as a moose! I'd've shot the thing but I was worried a bullet wouldn't do more than piss it off."

"A big ass kangaroo with antlers, sure. I'll believe that if I ever see it." He finished off his s'more and yawned, feeling a bit drowsy now that the sun was down.

He looked up at the sky, appreciating the stars. Sniper let out his own yawn and spoke "Alright, think we might as well turn in for the night."

Scout hummed an agreement, stood up and stretched as Sniper put out the fire. As they walked to the van some of Scouts drowsy-ness was suddenly replaced with anxiety as he remembered what he'd said earlier.

'Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,' He's gotta share a bed with Sniper. Well, he's not backing out now, he's too stubborn for that. Yup. Stubbornness.

That's it. That's the only reason. The only reason he's gonna go through with it. Certainly not because this has been a fantasy of his. Certainly not because he would very much like to cuddle with the man. Because he doesn't. Really.

After they entered the van they both set about removing their shoes, brushing their teeth, y'know, standard bedtime routine stuff.

Scout was the first to finish and climbed into the bed.

"Y'know, I can still just take the floor, we don't have to-"

"Rich, just shut up and get the hell over here."

Sniper chuckled "Alright."

Scout scooted closer to the wall to make space as Sniper made his way over.

Once he was in the bed Sniper pulled the blankets over the both of them and turned to face away from Scout "G'night, Jer."

"Night"

Scout stared at the ceiling. He wasn't gonna be able to sleep like this, he was far too aware of the warm body lying next to him.

He wanted to curl up to the bushman, to rap an arm around him, to tangle their legs together.

But of course he can't really just go and do that without having to admit some things.

He turned to face the wall and closed his eyes, deciding to at least try to sleep but he was restless, after a few moments he turned to lay on his back again.

Then sighed.

Then turned back to the wall. And tossed and turned a few more times.

Then Sniper sighed and shifted. Turning to lay on his back, he looked at Scout "Jer, you alright, mate?"

"Yeah, m'fine."

"Y'sure? Your tossin' about quite a bit there."

"Yeah, well, not every day I gotta share a bed."

"I can still take the floor if ya want."

"Nah, I'll live."

"Jer, I don't want you gettin' a bad nights sleep 'cause of me."

"Definitely will if ya keep talkin'."

Sniper huffed in amusement "You grew up with seven brothers, didn't you? Can't imagine noise being all that much of an issue."

Scout grumbled quietly, unsure of what else he could say.

Sniper sighed again and shifted to fully face Scout 'Oh God what now' Scout thought.

"Listen. I know you don't want to talk about it, and I promise you if you still don't want to say anything after this then I won't ask again.

But you're my friend, Jeremy, I care about you, about your wellbeing, and I want to help. You know you can talk to me about anything, I won't judge you if that's what you're worried about. So, please. Will you talk to me?"

Scout was quiet for a few moments, trying to think of what the hell he could say. He sure as hell wanted to confess but he was scared of losing his best friend.

He decided to test the waters.

"... Alright..." Scout sat up and turned to lean back on the wall, looking at anything but Sniper, as he collected his thoughts.

Sniper sat up as well and patiently waited.

"Ok, so... I guess it's, uh... I, uh... Ugh... I think... I've, uh..." Scout swallowed nervously and took a deep breath.

"I think I'm... I-in... love?" he glanced at Sniper who gave a bit of confused look

"Not to make light of it, mate, but... Is that all? All of this fuss 'cause of some sheila?" Sniper chuckled and grinned.

"I-it's a... guy... actually..."

Snipers grin dropped and eyes widened slightly "Oh."

"Yeah..."

"Alright, I suppose I can see how you'd be a bit more inclined to secrecy then. Still wish you'd've told me sooner though. Like I always tell you, you can talk-"

"Talk to you about anything, I know, but... I dunno, I just... I dunno..."

"S'alright, Jer... If you don't mind me askin', it's not someone on the team is it?"

Scouts eyes widened and he stared in shock at Sniper "What?! No! Why the hell would I fall for any of those bozos!"

"Jer,"

"That's fucking ridiculous! How can even you suggest that?"

"Jeremy."

"There is no way in hell I would ever even consider one of them-"

"Jeremy!" Sniper clamped a hand down on Scouts shoulder "Would you calm down?"

Scout shut his mouth tightly and stared at Sniper "Listen, mate if telling me who it is is that much of an issue you don't have to!"

"I don't-" Scout was about to deny the idea again but was quickly silenced by Snipers stern expression

"You know you're a terrible liar, mate. You ramble and get defensive every time."

"I- but it's not- It- Fucking Goddamnit!" Scout covered his face and groaned "It's not- ugh!" He sighed lowering his hands but not daring to look at Sniper

"I-I do... want to tell you, I just... I don't..."

Scout felt his throat tighten, his could feel his eyes start to water. Sniper pulled him into a tight hug "It's okay, Jer."

"I don't want you to hate me."

"I could never hate you, I don't give a 'roo's ass who you love, it could never make me hate you!"

Scout gripped tightly to his only friend as if he'd lose him if he let go, he certainly felt like he would.

He pulled back a little ways, still not letting go, and looked Sniper in the eyes, those fantastic eyes. He doesn't know what prompted him to to do it but,

Next thing he knew his lips were on Snipers. He jumped back as soon as he realized what he was doing.

Sniper looked just as shocked if not more so. Scout covered his face again, fully expecting some kind of negative reaction.

Instead, Sniper pulled his hands away, held one of them and put one of his own to Scouts cheek, wiping away a tear with his thumb and returned the kiss.

Scout couldn't believe it, he had to be dreaming! But it definitely felt real, and it felt amazing. It made his heart pound.

Sniper broke the kiss and looked Scout in the eyes "...Told ya I wouldn't hate you." He gave a soft smile and kissed Scout on the nose.

Scout smiled and couldn't help but laugh a little "Guess I was really worried over nothin', huh?" He didn't wait for an answer, instead opting to kiss Sniper again.

~The End~

[andtheyweredeskmates]

Of Latte’s and Lingerie- Chapter Eleven

Thank you guys for reading. I was super productive and wrote two chapters today so enjoy. I’m not gonna keep linking every chapter like I usually do because it takes forever but I’ll start linking to the first, last and next chapters and there’s always my AO3 link if you need to read a chapter in between! Anyways, loving the feedback! Love hearing from your guys!

AO3 - Chapter 1- Chapter 10

Taglist: @catsssmeow @toodaloo-kangaroo

It was a long time before Adrien got to see Marinette again. He was sure to text her at least every night, asking about her day, getting to know her, but Marinette was working long hours to help Audrey prepare for the upcoming show, so she didn’t have time to go our for more coffee. Adrien considered a few times to offer to bring her dinner, but he felt nervous. Upon Nino’s recommendation however, he did attempt to flirt with her. Unfortunately that wasn’t really going according to plan.

When he tried his lines came out a little like this:

Coffee Buddy:

So you have a cat? I bet she’s not as cute as you

Or

You’re parent’s make sweets? I’d love to sample the goods.

And finally, his most recent disaster

The only thing that would make your lingerie line better is you wearing it

Adrien hit his head back against the headboard.

“WHY.” Smack.

“DID.” Smack.

“I.” Smack.

“SAY.” Smack.

“THAT.” Smack.

It was official. He was an idiot. He was coming on too strong and he knew it. He’d always imagined that when he finally met the girl of his dreams he’d be suave and cool and he was anything but. He’d never had issues with girls before… although he’d never really been that interested in one either. Of course, texting was making everything worse. He had no idea how she was really reacting to his comments behind the screen and it was making him crazy. It’s been nearly two weeks since he’d seen Marinette and he was starting to think she might never want to see him again.

At the sound of his phone buzzing he lunged for it.

…

Marinette was bright red. She stared at her phone while her brain attempted to reboot itself. She thought up a thousand ways to respond, no- a million. They ranged from “Thank you” to “Well do I have a surprise for you” but she couldn’t bring herself to type any of them. She’d been texting her hot man friend for two weeks now and she felt like a teenager. It was fun and exciting and unbelievably nerve wrecking. She wasn’t completely dumb. She could tell he was flirting. But she also wasn’t entirely convinced that he liked her as much as she liked him and that was terrifying. For god’s sakes that’s exactly why she had broken up with Luka. She just couldn’t return the same feelings that he was showing her. She was beginning to realize how awful that feeling must have been.

Her mind was going every where at once. Surely it shouldn’t take this much effort to respond to a flirty text. Do normal people have this problem?

“Marinette!” Marinette jumped and dropped her phone on the floor.

“Ah!” She yelped.

“You are so jumpy, what are you doing? You’re staring at you’re phone like its going to eat you. Can we focus please?” Audrey was standing in the corner of the conference room, leaning against the wall. She had a dry erase marker in her hand and she was writing on the window which was acting as their makeshift drawing board.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” Marinette apologized. She bent down to pick up her phone and nearly shrieked again when she saw it. It was absolutely fucking destroyed.

…

Adrien pouted when he saw it was just Nino texting him.

DJ Bubbler

Hey man, I think me and Alya are actually gonna go grab a bite to eat. You mind if I bail tonight.

Adrien sighed.

Adrikins

Nah its cool. I’ll probably go to bed early

That was a lie. Adrien knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he got some sort of response to his text. He was a worrier by nature and he wasn’t really sure why he thought that wouldn’t apply to women. It was Friday and he didn’t have to work tomorrow so staying up all night wasn’t really a problem, but his sanity was already starting to waver. The scenarios in his head were endless.

Maybe she’s just busy at work? She doesn’t have her read receipts on so there’s no way of knowing I’ve been left on read but if she doesn’t have time to respond I can’t be upset.

Maybe she thought it was such a cute, flirty text she literally died. Adrien wondered briefly if that was considered manslaughter.

Maybe she thinks Adrien is a total idiot and doesn’t want to talk to him anymore. That was clearly the worst-case scenario here.

Adrien couldn’t handle the stress so he hatched a plan.

…

Marinette couldn’t help but be antsy throughout the rest of her late night meeting. It was nine o clock and she still had no idea what to say back to “Aiden”. Not that she had a way of responding anyway. She’s definitely going to have to get a new phone.

“I don’t know what your freaking out about Mari, just buy a new one, you aren’t exactly poor,” Audrey had said rolling her eyes. “I ought to know, I’m paying you.” Marinette didn’t know how to explain that it wasn’t the purchase of a new phone that was the problem. But it wasn’t just her boy problems that was distracting Marinette. She hadn’t eaten since her lunch break at noon and she was starving.

Audrey seemed oblivious to Marinette’s lack of presence. She was currently berating Marinette’s assistant about how everything better be perfect or he would definietely be

“-Fired. Understand Fabio?” The assistant was so terrified he didn’t even bother to mention that his name was really Francis. He just nodded feverishly.

The meeting was interrupted by Audrey’s secretary.

“Um, excuse me miss, there’s someone here to see Marinette.” Audrey glanced at the secretary with a look of interest.

“Oh? Who?”

“I’m not sure ma’am he just asked that he could bring her some dinner.” Marinette was suddenly very present. Who on earth would come here to bring her food? Audrey grinned.

“Well why don’t you send him in?”

…

Adrien’s plan was fairly solid. He would just bring her food in and talk to her. It would be pretty obvious if she didn’t want to talk to him anymore.

The secretary came back to the front desk and eased into her chair.

“Go on in to conference room B sweetheart. It’s just down the hall.” Adrien nodded and smiled.

“Thank you.” He made his way down the hallway with determination, forcing himself to be confident.

“I am Adrien Agreste and I can talk to a woman.” He muttered to himself. He opened the door and walked in tucking the Chinese food he had under his arm.

When he looked up he saw three people gathered around a large table staring at him.

“Adrien?”

Next Chapter

[haileykitty69]

28 Detentions Later

It was Friday, and it was the end of school. While most kids were going home, the other kids stayed because they had detention, well some other kids had to stay because they had clubs, Lisa was in one of those clubs. Bart was there because of a prank that ended up having one teacher in a full body cast, Milhouse was there as well since he was with Bart when the prank was going on. Nelson, Jimbo, Dolph, and Kearney was there because bullying of course. There was one last student there, the kids in the class find her mysterious, creepy, and insane. She was wearing a dark gray beanie, she had a white shirt with blue sleeves, red pants, dark pink shoes, her hair was brown and had some blue streaks. Her name was Hailey. Why was she there exactly? Well, let's just say that one kid had to go to the hospital because of her. Why she did it? She heard that kid said something awful about someone she loves. She also did that so she can be with the person who she loved, when he finally came into the classroom, she was really happy to see him. He however wasn't that happy actually, he was more tired. "Darn it, why do you have to misbehave all the time? Why can't you just behave for once? If you behaved, you could of just stayed at home and do stuff like playing video games, watching some movies, having pizza, drinking a lot of soda and eating a lot of candy. But no, you had to do awful things today. It's the weekend for crying out." The male principal sighed. "I'm only here because I love you, Seymour!" Hailey replied. "Well, stop doing bad things then! Okay?" Seymour took off what was part of his suit revealing the lavender shirt he wears with the rose petal pink tie, he was feeling a little hot right now. When he started getting bored, he started doodling, one of those doodles had some kangaroos, and there was even one where he apparently drew one character from My Little Pony what seem to be Fluttershy. Hailey got up from her desk without Seymour noticing, then she started looking at the pictures he was making. "those look really good!" She said as he jumped. "What the- thank you, but please get back to your desk. just because you gave me a compliment, doesn't mean you're gonna get out of any detentions for getting out of your desk. But really, thank you though. You still have detention, but since you're really nice to me, then you can go use your phone to pass the time, listen to some music, watch some videos, or play some games on there." Seymour replied. Then she went back to her desk and went on her phone to make a few drawings on there since she has a drawing app on her phone. Milhouse wasn't feeling so good right now, he felt like he was gonna vomit. "P-Principal Skinner? Can I go to the bathroom?" Milhouse said weakly. Seymour looked at the blue haired boy and noticed that he looked sick. "Dear God! Go straight to the nurse, young man! you don't look well at all! And if she says you're sick, you have to go straight home." then Milhouse left the classroom to go to the nurse. "Wow, He really convinced Skinner. Although I wonder how he was able to make himself look so pale. It was like he really looked sick." Said Jimbo. "Excuse me? but that didn't look like makeup or anything, young man! I think he was actually sick because he looked like a walking corpse! I think he was gonna throw up right there and just collapsed! Besides, he isn't that talented with makeup." Seymour replied.

Milhouse was on his way to the nurse, then he opened the door to meet Lunch Lady Doris dressed as a nurse. "yeah, before you ask, I'm a nurse as well because I get two paychecks for this." She said as Milhouse was confused. "So what's the problem?" "I feel like I'm gonna pu-" Milhouse started vomiting everywhere, This Startled Doris. After Milhouse finally stopped puking, he fall down on the puke covered floor face flat. "Oh my god! Get up! Hello?!?" then Milhouse slowly got up and Doris was relieved. "oh thank god, I gotta tell your parents to pick you u-AAAAAAAAAP!!!" Doris screamed as Milhouse jumped on her.

Bart was completely bored in the classroom, he couldn't do anything right now. Nelson was asleep, Jimbo was whispering with Dolph and Kearney about their plans to escape detention, and Hailey was listening to music while drawing a lot of pictures. They suddenly heard someone screaming, then Lisa ran into the classroom and slammed the door shut, locking it. "LISA! WHAT THE HECK?" Seymour started panting. "It's Milhouse! he's eating everyone alive!" Lisa screamed. "Lisa, I expect this stuff from Bart, but I don't expect you to make stuff like that up. And Milhouse is probably home already. So I'm just gonna unlock this door and you will go right back to your club while I go to the bathroom, I did drank a lot of grape juice." Seymour unlocked the door and Milhouse was standing there. "Milhouse? you're supposed to go home..." Milhouse started getting closer, Hailey saw this and pulled out a gun from her backpack just in case something awful happens. She only has a gun in there in case someone starts a school shooting. "Milhouse?" then Milhouse jumped at him, only to be shot in the face by Hailey. Seymour was completely frozen in fear, he didn't know how to respond to what just happened. He didn't have to go to the bathroom anymore since his pants were completely soaking wet now after witnessing a student getting shot in front of him. Nelson would of done his usual "haw haw" when something embarrassing happens to someone, but after seeing Milhouse getting shot, he didn't know what to do anymore. Bart was silent for a moment, then he started charging at Hailey but then Lisa grabbed him so he couldn't attack her. "YOU KILLED MY FRIEND! YOU MONSTER!" Bart screamed at the top of his lungs as he tried to get out of Lisa's grip. "He was a flesh eating zombie you idiot. didn't you see the blood on him?" Hailey replied. "YEAH, AFTER YOU SHOT HIM YOU JERK!" then Seymour snapped out of it and saw what was going on. "ENOUGH! EVERYONE CALM DOWN! I KNOW SOMEONE JUST GOT SHOT, BUT STOP IT!" everyone stopped except Hailey because she wasn't really doing anything right now. They were really surprised when they heard him yelling that loud. "DEAR GOD! ...I don't know what to tell his parents...oh god...but could you guys just stop...I'm already stressed out with what's going on...please stop...I don't think I can take this...any..." then he broke down into tears, all the students were supposed to see him crying. "I HAD TO DEAL WITH BART'S CRAP! I HAD TO DEAL WITH THE ABUSE MY MOTHER GIVES ME! I HAD TO DEAL WITH MY BOSS YELLING AT ME ALL THE TIME! NOW I HAVE TO DEAL WITH THIS?!? MY LIFE IS ALREADY STRESSFUL!!! I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE! I JUST WANT THINGS TO BE PERFECT! BUT NO! IT JUST KEEPS BLOWING UP IN MY FACE!" Seymour continued crying while Hailey tries to comfort him. Lisa ran up to the door and locked it just in case. "We can't just stay here right now! There's clearly a zombie apocalypse going on! If we want to survive, we need to shoot the ever living fudge out of those brain eating dummies!" Hailey said as she picks Seymour up. "what the- how are you able to- woah!" Seymour was surprised when Hailey started running with him on her back while she has her backpack on. "we also need to get food! And since money has no meaning right now, everything is free! So I can get all the chocolates and sodas I want! EVERYONE, FOLLOW ME IF YOU WANT TO LIVE! and eat a lot of chocolates!" Then she breaks a window with a chair, makes sure there is no more glass shards there, and ran while everyone else even Lisa started following her.

Everything was going great until a bunch a zombies ambushed them. "SCATTER! SCATTER GODDAMN IT!" Then Everyone ran in different directions where the zombies aren't at while Hailey who still had Seymour on her back ran in a different direction as well. When both Hailey and Seymour got cornered by the zombies, Seymour got off her back and started to panic but then she handed him a paddle and took out a shotgun. "Why did you give me a paddle?" Seymour asked. "Ever Watched Shaun of the dead?" Then Seymour jumped when Hailey used the shotgun on the zombies. "kinda, but didn't the other guy used a shovel?" then Hailey shot the other zombie that was about to bite him. "I only have a toy shovel because they were all out of real shovels....but I probably might get a real shovel when we get to the store." Seymour then started to beat the zombies to death with the paddle. When the zombies were all completely destroyed, they continued to get to the store. When they were finally there, Bart, Lisa, Nelson, Jimbo, Dolph and Kearney were surprisingly happy to see them. They got in the store and started to get food, drinks, weapons, and other things. "Now we need to go to a different place so the zombies never find us!" Everyone was confused about what Hailey said. "But didn't we already-" Before Jimbo could say anything, Hailey looks at him. "Hadn't you watched zombie movies? Hadn't you seen someone's tips on surviving a zombie apocalypse? Sure, stores may be a perfect place, but it's actually not good to stay in stores while there's a zombie apocalypse going on." Said Hailey as she grabbed her backpack and puts it on. "You think the mall's a good idea? I could go for those cinnamon pretzels right now." Bart's stomach growled as he kept thinking about the delicious cinnamon pretzels. "Well, if we lock that place up and don't let any zombies in, then yes! And Seymour, no matter what, don't open it for your mother! She could be a zombie!" Seymour was confused about what she said. "um...okay?..."

They went to the mall, Hailey found a car and started hot wiring it, they were surprised to see her make a car work. "Yeah, I saw some videos that teaches you how to make a car work without a key." Then everyone got in the car, Seymour got in the driver seat, but then a zombie came up and Hailey moved Seymour into the passenger seat and started driving extremely fast and started to run over all the zombies. They finally got to the mall and ran inside, there were surprisingly no one in there, and there weren't any zombies in there either. They then locked the place up, and everything had worked out. No one died and they all lived happily ever after, the end!

"Hold on! that's it? that story didn't make sense!" Jessica shouted. "Is it because you weren't in my great story?" Hailey replied. "Hey! calm down! calm down! The story was kinda great and all, but why are you telling us about it in detention?" Seymour asked. "I just wanted to sure a story that I made to everyone." Said Hailey. "Well, Your story sucked!" Jessica snickered. "Young Lady, just for that, you have detention for five months!" Seymour yelled at Jessica. "I'm already in detention, idiot!" Jessica started laughing. "You flithy pig! I'll kick your ass for calling him an idiot!" Then Hailey punched Jessica in the face. "YES! A FIGHT!" Francine cheered. "HAW HAW! Hailey's stronger then Jessica!" Said Nelson. "Why did you have me die in the story?!?" Then Milhouse joined the fight and got knocked out. "Okay, Calm Down everyone! If you all stop fighting, then I will give you all chocolate bars! And they are all milk chocolate!" Seymour then gave them all chocolate bars. "Here's some chocolate, Seymour-Senpai." Said Hailey as she gave him a big half of her chocolate bar. "Oh, thank you. I honestly wasn't expecting you to give me a huge part of your chocolate." Then Seymour ate the chocolate.

The End....for real this time.

[mikkomacko]

Sweet As Honey 2

Harry doesn't get uncomfortable anymore. After being kicked out of his home and forced to sleep on the couch of the man that introduced Harry to boxing, he's pretty good at keeping a level head in sensitive situations.

But he couldn't stand to stay in his house while y/n slept in. He's usually the first one awake, checking on Arlo and starting to make breakfast. Weekends are his time at home, no gym day, no morning runs, no fight reviewing.

However, the ball of nerves that ate at his stomach this morning, creeping up his spine and into his brain, reminded him of everything his mom had done.

He kept thinking back on the first months of living with Nick. He had been too depressed to keep up with school, too depressed to go to the gym, to depressed to find a job and too depressed to box.

It felt like his heart had been ripped from his chest and left in his empty bedroom back at his mom's house. Nick had been a God send, letting Harry sort through his feelings, not asking anything of him except that he eat and help out around the house a bit.

For months, Harry had been twisted up with anxiety. What was he going to do? He had no money, no job, no school, no family. How was he going to make a life for himself? The unknowns had made him physically sick, throwing up and triggering panic attacks.

The day finally came where he could no longer do nothing. He had gotten up, dug around in a bag for workout clothes and decided to go for a run. He ran for miles, mind going blank and the endorphins from running taking over. It was the best he had felt in months.

He ended up running to the gym Nick worked at, sweaty and breathless, requesting a sparring partner. Nick got him in the practice ring, got him boxing again. Finally, he was well enough for Nick to give him a trainer. Liam spent day after day in the gym with Harry, pushing him fight after fight until Harry was one of the most popular boxers in the city.

He started winning fights, starting drawing in crowds, starting making money. He got an apartment, took care of himself and kept boxing three times a week. He met y/n, asked her to get a drink, and planned on taking her home just for the night. Instead he found the woman of his dreams, fell in love, got married and had his wonderful son.

Everything he had today, he got from the one run he went on.

So when he woke up this morning, on the verge of a panic attack, he gently woke y/n. He apologized for leaving but said he needed some air, happily accepted her kiss of assurance, morning breath and all.

And he went for a run. He ran until the panic in his chest had been set free and his legs were cramping and his brain felt clear. He ran until all he could think about was y/n and Arlo and how happy they make him. Then he ran home.

~

Anne knows if Harry were to walk into the house right now, he'd see her snooping. He'd probably be peeved at her, ridicule her for suddenly having an interest in his life but she doesn't care. After the few photos she saw last night, the ones in which Harry looked unbelievably happy, she couldn't help herself. She wanted to see what she missed.

So she tip-toed to the living room, not wanting to disturb y/n or Gemma, and began examining the dozens of pictures of her son's little family. With guilt sitting heavily in her chest, Anne notices that in most of the photos, Harry's still the loving, sweet boy she raised.

There's a photo of a younger Harry, face still a bit chubby and curls at his shoulders with Mickey Mouse ears holding the wild locks down. Y/n is with him, her own set of Minnie Mouse ears on. They're standing in front of Cinderella's Castle, fireworks exploding behind them as they share a kiss.

A photo of them on Halloween, both dressed in Kangaroo costumes with boxing gloves on, Y/n's stomach swollen with their baby. Y/n is holding up her fists, ready to fight Harry who's got his arms crossed over his chest, grinning down fondly at his wife.

Another silly photo of Harry and y/n. They're still young in this photo, not as young as the Disney one but Harry's still got a bit of baby chub on his face and y/n still has the cute child-like look in her eyes. They're sat in front of a fire place, Christmas stockings hanging behind them. Harry's dressed as Santa Claus, minus the fake beard and y/n is perched in his lap in a Mrs. Claus dress. Y/n is grinning at the camera but Harry's smile is pointed towards her.

Anne reaches the last picture of the shelf she's looking at, tears welling in her eyes at the photo. Harry's sitting on the edge of a pool, long hair up in a bun on top of his head but most of his unruly curls have slipped out. The photo's taken by someone who's in the pool, far enough to capture Harry's legs in the water but close enough to show the water droplets on his torso.

Perched in his lap sits Arlo, a gummy smile lighting up his face and making his green eyes brighter. Harry's got a similar smile on his face, dimples bigger than his sons but in the exact same spot. And his eyes are reflecting the same blazing green.

Anne can't believe she got rid of one Harry and came crawling back to find two. Overcome with shame, she's heading back towards the bedroom when commotion in the kitchen stops her. Anne freezes, listening to the wife of her son break her heart even more.

~

"I know we're late, Harry's on his way." Is the first thing y/n says when she answers her mother's phone call.

"Don't worry dear, I was just checking to make sure everything was fine after last night." Her mom responds, offering a light laugh to calm a slightly frazzled y/n.

Y/n freezes, dropping the spoon she was washing into the soapy dish water. "Harry told you about last night?"

"Yes m'a'm," She says proudly. "called me pretty late last night, asked if he could chat with me about something bothering him. Of course I said yes, I love that boy with all my heart."

Y/n looks down at her phone that's resting on the counter, a bit confused that Harry called her mother. Harry's never been one to voice his complaints or even rant to anyone that's not Liam, Nick or herself. He often plays his cards close to his chest so y/n can't imagine how alone he must have felt to call her mom.

"Oh," y/n replies. "I should've known when he didn't say anything before bed, at least not relating to his mom. He got it all out talking to you."

"Don't sound do disappointed," Marie jokes. "he told me he didn't want to further burden you last night after filling in for him at dinner and setting up the guest rooms for those people."

Y/n chuckles at her mom's tone, scrubbing the scrambled eggs off the pan in the sink. "Don't say it like that, you haven't even met them yet."

"I don't need to meet them." Marie scoffs. "They abandoned my son because he was hurt, he had just lost his father. The only thing he knew to do was fight, whether in the ring or against the man that was hurting his mother. The only thing he's guilty of is having the biggest heart. You of all people should know that."

"I do know that." Y/n defends, offended that her mother would even imply that y/n isn't on Harry's side in this situation. "I know what happened, I know how much it's hurt him. I see him wake up anxious and sad because he's had another nightmare that he didn't get to see his mom again. But I can't just let him throw away the first chance he's gotten in eight years to fix his family. As his wife, it's my job to take care of him and I don't want to be waking up when I'm eighty to find him in another panic attack."

Marie is silent on the other side for a moment. "You're right," She huffs. "when did you get so smart, huh?"

"After all these years, I've gotten used to fixing him up. This is just another cut that needs more than a bandaid."

"In that case, I'll make sure to give him an extra big hug when he gets here."

~

"We're home!" Harry calls out playfully, shutting the front door behind him. Arlo coos against Harry's chest, lifting his head a bit as he realizes he's back home.

"We're in here!" Y/n calls from the living room.

"Mumma," Arlo whimpers, pressing his chubby hands into Harry's chest to push himself away from Harry and closer to y/n.

"Don't worry bub," Harry murmurs, adjusting the baby bag that was slipping off his shoulder. "I'm taking ya to mumma."

The resistance against his chest ceases, Arlo peering up at Harry with curious green eyes. Harry brushes his thumb over his baby's soft cheek, adoration flooding through him and putting a giddy smile on his lips.

His smile falters when he enters the living room to find his mom and sister sat beside y/n on the couch, surrounded by photo albums and all of them sporting smiles.

Harry hates the sight. He hates that they can just sit there, looking at photos of him growing up without them and still be smiling. He hates that his mother doesn't even look guilty or regretful.

"There's ma baby!" Y/n cheers, jumping up from the couch. She rushes towards them, arms outstretched for Arlo.

Stomach swimming with nausea, Harry kisses Arlo's forehead softly and hands him over to y/n. He ignores her concerned eyes as she shifts Arlo to one arm, cupping his jaw with the other one. He grabs her wrist, squeezing it gently and letting the tears build in his eyes.

"M'gonna go unpack his bag, yeah?"

Harry doesn't wait for an answer. He turns on his heel, marching up the steps and ignoring the sound of his mom dolt over Arlo.

~

Harry's sat on the hospital bed, y/n's back against his chest and their newborn baby cradled in her arms.

Arlo's still pink in the face from crying but he's sleeping now, snuggled into a blue blanket and beanie the doctors wrapped him in.

Harry can hear the quiet shuffles of loved ones entering the room, eager to meet the first born of the Styles family. He hears the gasp of y/n's mom and sister in law, followed by a tearful, "Oh, he's beautiful." But Harry can't take his eyes away from his son.

With his arms under y/n's, as if he's the one cradling the baby, Harry brings his family closer to his chest.

He doesn't know how to describe the amount of love that's taken over his body. His heart is full, so full it feels squished in his body. It feels like it could bust right out of his chest and still need room. He thinks the world's not even big enough to contain how much love he has for Arlo.

"You want to hold him?"

Harry's head snaps up at y/n's words, an offended crease in his brow and glare in his eyes.

He deflates as Arlo is passed to y/n's mom, falling back into the hospital bed with a huff. His arms feel light without the weight of his baby in them and he doesn't like it. He wants him back, he doesn't want anyone to hold Arlo because Arlo is his to hold.

"Hi dad,"

Harry pulls his protective glare away from y/n's parents to look down at her. She's still pressed into his chest, head tilted up to peer up at him.

"Hi mumma." He grins, taking in her puffy eyes and beaming smile. He smoothes his hands over her messy hair, not caring that it's matted with sweat from the delivery of Arlo.

She looks exhausted, positively recked, but she's so beautiful. She's still glowing. Harry's not sure if it's from the remaining sweat or if being a mother just looks that good on her. Either way, he's not complaining.

"What are you pouting for?" She whispers, wrapping her hands around his wrists. Harry nuzzles his nose into her cheek, pecking a kiss into her flush skin.

"Want my son back." Harry murmurs, a whine present in his tone.

Y/n giggles, tilting her head more to look at him. She cups his jaw with one hand, kissing the corner of his lips. "Let them hold him for a moment. We get him for the rest of our lives."

Harry hums, accepting her words but not being particularly happy with them. He knows that Arlo is his forever but that's not enough, Harry wants him back. He wants to hold him for the rest of his life.

"Can't believe my mum went through this, she knows this feeling and she st-"

"Stop it Harry." Y/n interrupts, catching on to the rising anger in his voice and the way he tensed up. "I know it hurts but she made an awful mistake and she doesn't deserve your anger or tears. You're too good for her."

Harry nods, watching with teary eyes as his new family gathers around Arlo. They're all looking at him with so much love and adoration, Harry doesn't understand how someone could ever give their child up.

"S'just shitty." Harry whispers, his lanky fingers wrapping around the wrist of her hand that's caressing his face.

She gives him a sympathetic smile, leaning into him as he sponges kisses over the bridge of her nose and grins when he hears y/n's grandmother claim Arlo is the cutest baby in the world.

"Ya hear that?" Y/n breathes. "The cutest baby in the world, must take after his daddy."

"No way," Harry sucks a kiss to her bottom lip. "it's all you."

~

Harry had a smirked a bit when he first heard Arlo fussing, a bit proud that his son didn't want to be held by Anne. It made Harry feel like he has someone else on his side.

He unpacked Arlo's bag, straightening up the nursery and listening to y/n assure Anne and Gemma that the baby is just tired.

Harry was tucking bunny into Arlo's crib when y/n entered with the sniffling baby. As glad as Harry was that Arlo was refusing his families affection, it broke his heart to hear his bub crying.

Arms outstretched, ready to take Arlo and dry up all the tears, Harry was shocked when he ceased crying the second y/n placed Arlo in Harry's hold.

"Ok I know you're his favorite, but this is ridiculous." Y/n scoffs, hands finding a home on her hips.

Harry chuckles, snuggling Arlo into his chest. Arlo tucks his nose into Harry's neck, arms squished between his little torso and Harry's large one.

"Oh come on pet," Harry shushes, still proudly grinning. "As soon as he gets hungry he'll be whining for ya."

She huffs but accepts his answer. Grinning softly, Harry leans down to lay Arlo in the crib. He freezes when Arlo let's out a loud wail of protest, chubby hands locking around Harry's bicep as much as possible.

"What's the matter bub?" Harry coos, bringing Arlo back up to his chest. Arlo presses even closer this time, scrunching Harry's tee-shirt up in his hands.

Confused, Harry tries to lay Arlo down once more. Arlo cries and clings to Harry again, this time adding a cry of "dadda!"

Harry gives y/n a bewildered look, hoping she knows why Arlo's being extremely dependent on Harry. Usually he goes down easily, only getting fussy if he's teething or doesn't feel well. But he's never cried at Harry like that before.

With the softest gleam in her eyes, y/n coos at the two boys.

"I think someone's noticed that daddy's not very happy today." She explains, slinking forward to wrap her arms around Harry's waist.

As soon as her cheek comes in contact with Harry's chest, Arlo is grumbling and gently pushing his mom away by the shoulder.

"Hey!" Harry scolds, trying to keep his laugh at bay. "Be nice to mumma!"

Arlo, still pouting, stops fighting and falls back against his father's chest. Harry brings his arm around y/n's shoulders and presses his lips to her forehead.

"Movie night tonight?"

Y/n's lips breaks into a smile, beaming up at Harry. Saturday nights are always movie nights but with Anne and Gemma showing up, y/n was afraid Harry would want to hide out in the bedroom.

"Absolutely."

~

Anne felt out of place.

Granted, she's in a new house in an unfamiliar city with an unfamiliar family. But that shouldn't be the case and she's knows that.

She should be able to recognize the man that's sprawled out across the couch, miniature version of himself napping on his chest. She should know the giggle that leaves his mouth when y/n trips over the coffee table while trying to hang a sheet up.

Most importantly, she should know the loose waves of his hair, the slope of his nose, the cut of his jaw. She should know the ink on his arms that are a lot bigger that she remembers. She should know her son.

But the Harry sitting across from her isn't her son. He's not the small, curly headed boy she kicked out. He's a man, a father, a husband. He's lost the chub of his cheeks, the soft curve of his nose, the fluffy hair.

It breaks Anne's heart to look over and recognize the snoozing baby more than she recognizes Harry.

"Do you have a particular movie you want to watch, love?"

Harry shrugs, rhythmically soothing his big hand up and down Arlo's back. Waiting for an answer, y/n continues hanging up the final sheet for their fort, something y/n said is always included in every movie night.

"What'sa the one with the pants?" Harry murmurs, reaching a hand up to help his wife hop down from the back of the couch.

"The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants?" Y/n and Gemma answer in unison. They both giggle, flashing each other smiles.

"Ya, let's watch that one."

Y/n nods, settling into the couch next to Harry and pulling the movie up on Netflix. The house falls silent, all of them focused on the movie. From the outside, it probably looks like they're one big happy family, enjoying a movie night.

But every time one of the girls mentions a family issue, Anne can feel Harry's eyes burning holes into the side of her head. Like usual, she ignores it.

~

Rolling his sore shoulders, Harry tip toes away from the nursery, careful to not disturb Arlo. He follows the patter of the running shower water, entering the steamy master bathroom.

Harry smirks, being able to make out the silhouette of his wife as she rinses out her hair. He sets the baby monitor on the bathroom counter, immediately stripping off all of his clothes.

"Finally got him down?"

Harry hums, stepping into the hot water and letting it ease his aching muscles. Y/n steps back so he can fully stand under the water, reaching up and draping her arms around Harry's shoulders.

Harry purrs when she soothingly massages her fingers across his back and neck. Taking ahold of her waist, Harry pulls her into him and connects their lips.

"You're an angel," Harry breathes into her mouth. She giggles, continuing to massage his back. He sponges kisses down her neck and across her shoulders, occasionally groaning into her skin when y/n hits a particularly sore spot.

"How are you feeling H?"

Her words are barely audible over the sound of the shower. If she hadn't whispered them directly into his ear Harry probably wouldn't have heard her.

"M'feeling good," Harry says gruffly, head lulling to the side so y/n has more room to massage his neck. She squeezes her hand, pinching hard enough to have Harry groaning as his toes tingle.

"Good enough to fuck you."

A breathy laugh washes over Harry's shoulder. Simpering, he squeezes her hip and then follows the path of water down her leg.

He cups his palm over her cunt, middle finger slipping between her lips so just the tip of his finger teases her walls.

Y/n sighs, falling into his chest. Her fingers remained locked around his shoulder and the back of his neck, clinging to his wet skin.

"Harry,"

He cups the back of her head with his free hand, kissing her forehead. Her thighs open for him, allowing him to sink his finger all the way into her.

"Can I?" He husks, lips catching the water droplets on hers. "Can I fuck you? Please?"

She tightens around his digit, her own gripping his skin tighter. He grunts, using his knee to nudge her leg up and onto the edge.

"We're gonna run out of water if you don't get a move on." Y/n laughs, cutting herself off with a kiss to his lips.

Harry grins, pressing his palm down onto her clit. She huffs out a sigh of bliss, sucking another kiss into his mouth.

"I'll fuck you when you tell me I can."

Y/n whines, squeezing the back of his neck for firmly. "You can fuck me Harry. I want you to fuck me."

Harry slips his finger out, rubbing her juices around to make sure she's ready. "Want you up around my waist baby."

She quick to jump up, mostly with the help of Harry, and slip her legs around his waist. He catches her, supporting her with a hand on her lower back. With the other, he guides himself between her legs.

Harry presses her against the wall, squeezing the base of his cock as he slowly sinks into y/n's wet cunt.

"Harry,"

Locking his knees, Harry pulls back and then drives forward again. She presses into the tender flesh of his back, the pain sparking something in his hips that has him rutting into her harder.

He squeezes her hips, busying his mouth with hers in hopes to encourage her to keep kneading his back.

She does, her fingers working magic on his pain kink as his cock works magic on the spongy spot inside her. Y/n is the first to come, moaning into Harry's mouth and squeezing him between her thighs.

Harry follows, legs jittery and hips tired but he doesn't care. She makes him feel so fucking good, all the time.

"Christ," Harry grunts. "I love you, love you so much. Love me?"

"I'll always love you."

~

"Harry!"

Nick's waving him over. He's off to the side of the ring, enthusiastically flailing his arm about to get Harry's attention.

But not even his spastic behavior can hold Harry's attention because as soon as he sees her, he's completely stuck.

She's beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Of course standing next to Nick, anything is beautiful but Harry knows even if she were hanging in the Met, she'd be too beautiful for everything around her.

She smiles at him, shyly and with a nervous tiit in her lip. Her gaze is unnaturally locked on his eyes or the empty ring as if she's purposely not looking at Harry's bare torso.

"Excellent fight!" Nick exclaims, clapping Harry on the shoulder. Harry smirks somewhat bashfully, removing himself from Nick to greet her.

"Harry," He holds out his taped hand. "what's your name?"

Her hand is cold in his, fingers soft on his callouses. She sends tingles up his arm and down his spine, chilling him but still pulling him in. He can't take his eyes off of her.

"Y/n."

"Nice to meet ya darling." Harry grins, giving her a quick once over just to fluster her. His grin grows cocky when he sees her cheeks turn pink.

"M'heading to the bar, want to come?" Nick interrupts.

"Depends," Harry says, nonchalant. "Are you coming, y/n?"

"Absolutely."

"Then I'd love to."

Harry's fucked after that. He can't stay away from her, he can't keep his eyes off of her. He can't stop glaring at all the bar rats that were trying to hit on her. He can't stop sharing drinks with her just because he likes the way she licks her lips after taking a sip of his beer.

And he really can't stop himself from taking her home in his car, his hand up her skirt to play with her clit while his lips suck kisses across her jaw.

Harry gets two orgasms out of her in the car, licking his hand clean as he takes her up to his apartment. They didn't make far into his apartment before she's jumping his bones, legs locked around his waist.

He's got her pressed against the door, shoes and jeans tossed somewhere in the living room with her top and bra.

"Wanna. . .can I. . . may I fuck you?"

She giggles into his mouth, hands holding his jaw tightly and thighs squeezing his lean hips.

"God, yes please!" Y/n laughs, capturing Harry's lips again.

Harry's beaming, holding her tightly with one arm while he digs around in the junk draw of the cabinet for a condom.

He finds it, tearing it open with the assistance of y/n. Once he's got it rolled on and her skirt up around her hips, he's thrusting into her.

She's tight, so tight that Harry's having trouble breathing but in the most delicious way possible. His thumb finds her clit, furiously circling it while he fucks up into her.

They come together, Harry's balls snug against her ass while she pulses around him. He's buried in her neck, sponging kisses across all the sweaty skin he can reach. She smells good and she's so warm in his arms, Harry can't stop the next words that leave his mouth.

"Want you stay with me. Will you stay?"

"I'll always stay Harry."

~

She's wrapped around him, head resting over his heart and arm around his waist. He can feel her uneasiness, her hesitation to say whatever it is she's been wanting to say.

Harry's sure it's something that he doesn't want to hear but needs to so he squeezes her shoulder, brushing her damp hair away from her face.

"What is it darling?"

Y/n shuffles, turning her body so she can look up at him. Her eyes are puffy with sleep and she's got dark circles underneath but she's still so beautiful. Harry cups her cheek, wondering how in the hell he got her.

"You've got to talk to them eventually." Y/n says softly, her hand covering his to comfort him.

Harry nods despite the twist of uneasiness that's rushed through his stomach. She reaches up, soothing her thumb over the crease that's found its usual spot between his eyebrows.

"I'm not going to rush you babe," She tickles over the bridge of his nose. "but I know you'll feel better when you tell them how you feel."

Harry smiles, eyes fluttering shut as she continues to brush her fingers over his nose and lips.

"Love you." He murmurs, kissing the tips of her fingers. "I promise I'll fix this, I'll take care of our family."

"I know you will H."

[anastasiaskarsgard]

So here’s AU single dad Mark, you can see the vibe his picture inspired here (who is inspired by a real person loosely)

Warning: cursing, mention of drugs and sex. Mention of violence.

“Doctor, you have one last appointment and then you’re free! New puppy needs vaccines and looks very healthy. The guy is seriously dreamy so just mentally prepare yourself for that.” My receptionist Ashley said as she handed me the file. “They’re in number 2.”

I glanced over the file and audibly groaned, drawing both receptionists attention. “I know Mark! Shit! I hope he didn’t recognize my name and come here on purpose. To be quite honest though, I don’t think he’ll even remember me.”

Ashley leaped from her chair to get close enough to whisper, “I need the deets Doc! Did you have a one night stand with him? Or lose your v card to him at prom? Or oh my gosh! did you choose your career over him and left him behind for vet school?”

“Stop reading smut on the internet, and come back to reality. He was 2 years older than me and talked to me one time at a party, informing me that I had potential if I would dress more like a girl, and less like a veterinarian. I doubt he’ll remember it tho.” I chuckled, shaking my head, “Get back to work.” I said as I walked over to room 2, taking a deep breath before opening the door, coming face to face with Mark. He was still drop dead gorgeous.

“My bad, I thought you’d come thru the other door. Dakota, Danielle. Please sit down nice for the Doctor, so your puppy doesn’t get nervous.”

Mark tried to wrangle his two small children to sit down, but at around 2-4 years old, that wasn’t gonna happen. I wondered what girl had snatched up Mark as I checked the puppy out.

“Oh my — kids earmuffs— “ Mark verified both children were in fact covering their ears before turning back to me with a big cheesy smile on his face. “No fucking way! You seriously became a veterinarian!” He exclaimed chuckling.

“Well you gave me the idea, so I just ran with it, “ I said with a smirk.

“Oh my God. You remember I said that? I was a punk, I’m sorry. I just had a thing for you and you’d always ignore me or blow me off, every time I tried to get your attention.”

“I don’t recall you ever trying to get my attention. I do recall you ignoring me.”

“No. I didn’t even have any classes in the portables and I’d go hang out over there and always say what’s up as you’d walk by. I went to all your basketball games and you never once acknowledged my existence and I tried to talk to you in the library a couple times and you would always shoosh me.”

“ well that’s what you’re supposed to do in a library. Also, going into the general vicinity of someone, and expecting them to know somehow that you’re there for them, isn’t very obvious, especially considering the one time you speak to them you tell her that she has potential but dresses like a veterinarian, which is pretty cool if you ask me.” I giggled. Oh sweet mother of God, I giggled. He was so hot, my brain was malfunctioning. Eventhough he was most likely full of shit and trying to get a discount or something, it was wild to think, I was so intimidated by him, I refused to entertain the idea that he might actually like me. It was pretty hilarious. “Looks like you found your happily ever after anyways. Who’s the lucky lady? Anyone I know?”

“Huh?” He looked confused for a few couple beats and then it dawned on him. “Oh yeah I got two awesome mini mes.”

“We’re the 3 musketeers!” A little voice squeaked out.

“Oh sorry. I just figured 2 kids that use ear muffs and the designer dog, someone had domesticated you.” I said looking up to see Mark blush.

“Remember Anna Winters? That’s his mommy and—“

“I don’t mean to interrupt Mark, but could I borrow your little musketeers to feed some newborn puppies that were dumped here? Then we can have a few minutes to catch up. I think you’re my last appointment. Do you mind? The girls and I do it, but they look like they’re good little helpers.”

Both children leaped out of their seats and started jumping up and down pleading to let them help so Mark agreed. I called Ashley in and she was super enthusiastic about having helpers, till she realized Mark wasn’t coming too. As soon as they closed the door, I turned to Mark.

“Thought it would be best if they didn’t hear adult conversations, especially involving their mother.”

“Mothers.”

“I kinda figured since your little girl looks possibly Latina?”

Mark nodded his head. “Yeah So Anna is a full fledged crackhead out in LA or something last I heard. Who knows? She might even be dead. She left him with me when he was a week old and never came back.”

“Wow! What a deplorable human being! But then you had naked time with a lady again, and she got pregnant too huh?” I teased. “Maybe no one told you how this works...”

“No I get it. Danielle’s mom was Dakota’s babysitter, and she just never really went away and it was convenient, and she cleaned and took care of Dakota. But she stopped taking birth control unbeknownst to me, and she winds up pregnant, wanting to get married.”

“So Wait! I know this part! You being the most romantic motherfucker on the planet, was like let’s go to Disneyland and get married in the castle right before the fireworks go off!” I had to give him some shit. He was such a cliche.

Mark laughed his same dorky weird laugh, and I couldn’t help but to laugh too. “No I told her I’m not marrying you. I don’t love you, and she’s like well then as soon as I have this kid, it’s all yours. If you don’t want me, I don’t want your ugly baby.”

“I’d be like ‘it got it from its mama’. She’s adorable though, so you really came out ahead there. What are the odds you’d get two deadbeat moms in a row?”

“Don’t remind me. What’s your story? You married? Kids?”

“Well I went to school and graduated top of my class, so i got into vet school, which is way harder than regular old medical school since there aren’t as many options. Plus it’s pretty challenging. With people you just got to figure out people. I have to know the dogs, cats, horses, goats, birds, lizards pretty much anything that’s alive and not from the primate family, i gotta figure it out. Last week somebody brought in a damn baby kangaroo, trying to tell me it’s a wallaby, and I was like where did you get a Kangaroo in Salt Lake City? Sorry, to answer your actual questions, No baby daddy’s cuz I’ve never met anyone that’s as awesome as I am, so until then I’m just saving the world, one litter at a time. Let’s go peek at them, come on.” I tiptoed out the door, over to the batch of kennels I had them living in, and we peeked around the wall, to see both kids feeding two puppies each, smiling from ear to ear.

“What kind of puppies are they?” Mark whispered.

“Go back in the room and I’ll tell you the story.”

He looked so adorable tiptoeing along, trying to be sneaky. He was like that one part of Fantasia where everybody knows but him that he’s too big to be sneaky.

We get back in the room and he sits on the little bench, patting the seat next to him, looking up at me all sexy like. He knows what he’s doing. “Come sit. I won’t bite.” He said with a lustful tone. Or maybe I just wanted to jump on him and any tone would be lustful......

“You keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna squirt you with the spray bottle,” I couldn’t help but laugh at my own joke. He found it less funny. “They’re all Blood Hounds. The mother got shot by the owners worthless boyfriend, claiming she attacked him, when I have a strong suspicion she was defending the woman from him. The mama dog did get ahold of the guy and shredded his arm up bad enough, it’ll never work again. The woman dropped the puppies off saying he’d kill them when he got home, so that’s how I got nine Bloodhound puppies that have to be fed every few hours. I didn’t have the heart to put them down, and the shelter would of killed them.”

“Aren’t Bloodhounds expensive?”

“Well yes. And they’re actually AKC, but I’m going to fix them all before I adopt them out. I rescue, I don’t profit off animal sales. Just maintenance. I actually offered them to the police since they’ve got the best noses in the business. They’re trying to get the money together to train them. Las Vegas wants two of them, but they got that casino money.”

“How much does it cost to train a dog?”

“Like $22k I think it is. Takes a few years depending if they’re looking for people, drugs, bombs... ”

“Wow. How are you not taken?” He blurted out.

“My bullshit tolerancy is almost non-existent, I work a lot, I’m the only one that thinks I’m funny, i dress like a veterinarian and I’m shallow. How are you single? All that man pretty and diaper changing skills.”

Mark looked down and blushed again. “Ok I’m just gonna go for it. Would you like to go to dinner sometime?” I swear he is holding his breath. Dammit. So cute.

“How about now? When they’re done feeding the puppies, you wanna go feed your rugrats?” I inquired.

“I meant like on a date, just you and me.”

He was so pretty, I wanted to sit on his face, “Oh ho! I cant be alone with you, I’ll get pregnant. Even now, I’m at risk. I need tiny chaperones.”

“Is that so?” He said rising to his feet with a mischevious look on his face, glancing between my eyes and lips. I took a step back and the wall was there. I was trapped. I tried to look oblivious but when he leaned against the wall behind me, with an arm on each side of my head, leaning in so his lips lightly brush my ear, he whispers; “where’s your spray bottle now?”

Oh fuck it. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss. His lips were so soft and he was surprisingly gentle and not trying to be handsy. What the fuck was I doing!? I pulled away scanning his face for I don’t know what.

“What?” He asked all breathy and desperate, rubbing his perfect little nose on my cheek, getting almost close enough to kiss me, wanting me to close the gap.

“I don’t know what I’m looking for, but I’ll know when I see it.”

“Shut up and kiss me....please?”

Fuck. Anyone else I would have sent packing, but Mark was so tall, and beautiful, and confident, and took care of his kids, and God he smelled good, and if he fucked as well as he kissed, then I might just keep him. I pushed my lips into his and he kissed me a bit more aggressive biting my lower lip.

This was either a really great idea, or the worst idea I’ve ever had, but either way, I was gonna see how it played out.

[hanna-writes]

How do you do your outlines? They look amazing and way more organized than mine. If you already have a post about it can you point me to it, thanks in advance!

My first writing question! Ever! Oh my god! Thank you, Anon!

Hanna’s Guide to Outlining

Okay, first of all, I’d like to say that this isn’t one of those magical outlining methods where you sit down with literally no ideas for a plot, and by the time you’re done, you’ve managed to create a fully functional one out of nothing.

Before I start outlining, I like to write a bit about the setting(s)/world(s) in which my story takes place, and a bit about my protagonist(s), antagonist(s) and prominent side characters. I need to know how my story begins and how my story ends, and I need to at least have a vague sense of how my protagonist gets from the beginning to the end, in which ways my antagonist poses a threat, and what value my side characters have to the story. When I’ve ticked all those little things off my mental checklist, then I start outlining.

Now. Keeping all that in mind, here’s a quick and simple guide to my quick and simple outlining method.

1. Get a college block, a pair of scissors, and a pen.

2. Remove two pages from the college block. Cut off the thicker top and bottom lines.

3. Cut the two pages into pieces of three lines each. If your college block is about the same size as mine, you’ll end up with about twenty pieces from two pages. Each three-line piece is a scene. This will seem like a lot of pieces, and very few lines per piece. You’re probably thinking, ‘I couldn’t possibly fit my scenes into the space of three lines.’ You’d be wrong, actually, but we’ll get to that a little later.

4. When you have a bunch of empty pieces, take your pen and fill in the margin line on each piece. Don’t make it super thick, but make sure you can see it properly. This is the thread that runs through your story, tying it together.

5. Now that you have a bunch of empty scenes, little fragments of the thread running through your story - write. Begin with the beginning and the ending, then the scenes you’re already itching to write and the scenes you know will be Important. Write them in whatever order comes to you. Skip around with abandon. By jumping back and forth like a rabies-infected kangaroo, your brain will begin to make connections and build bridges on its own, and even though you began writing with maybe only five or six scenes in mind, you’ll find yourself writing many more.

Now, if you feel like you can’t make your scenes fit the three-line format: try again. Because the truth is, if you can’t condense a scene into three lines, you’re either not condensing enough, or you’re actually trying to fit two scenes into the space of one. Remember, this outline is just you talking to yourself. Write short, ugly sentences. As long as you know what you mean, nothing else matters.

6. When you’ve written down all the scenes you can think of (possibly making more paper pieces along the way), either spread them out across the table, or do what I do: dump them on the floor. Then get down there, right into the mess, and start sorting them through. Put the beginning in the beginning and the ending in the end. Put the rest of the pieces where you think they belong, switch them around a bit, and search for the simplest path from start to goal.

7. When you’re done, read it through, and look for any remaining gaps. What’s missing? Where does the story make unnatural jumps? When you’ve identified the holes in your plot (not to be confused with plotholes), think about what needs to happen to fill those holes, then write those scenes down.

8. When you have all the scenes necessary to make your outline read smoothly, arrange the pieces carefully so that the filled-in margin lines create one, long line. Then be smart and use paperclips to make the little pieces stick to a larger paper (unlike me, who keeps 23 loose pieces of paper on my bedroom floor), but do not (I REPEAT: DO NOT) glue them to anything. Your outline isn’t supposed to be set in stone. Half the reason I want you to cut little three line pieces in the first place, instead of just drawing three line squares on uncut college block pages, is so that you can move the pieces around if necessary. Now, and also when you’re halfway through finishing your book and you realise that the second half of your outline needs a major overhaul.

9. Colour-code the scenes if you want, using the empty side of the plot thread. This is especially useful if you want to keep track of several subplots.

10. Enjoy the pretty end-result:

Quick disclaimer: this is not meant to be a scene-by-scene outline. These are just the important scenes tying the story together. The skeleton. Your story will have lots of smaller, less important scenes between these ones, but I think writing down all of those would be a waste of time, not to mention highly restrictive. This type of outline gives you a clear path from start to finish, but it still leaves room to breath.

Well. That turned out slightly longer than I’d planned. Anyway, I hope you find this helpful! Thanks again for asking me a writing-related question :D

[choiminhovevo]

hehe

who’s messier? Paige, unfortunately. Artists are always messy, but once they gets a cleaning bug she can be neat as Minho

do they fight often? If an argument between the two gets out of hand Paige says “let’s settle this argument with Mortal Kombat” and Minho agrees. They’ve only argued maybe twice.

who’s the funnier drunk? Paige probably. Minho controls his alcohol well and Paige is a social drinker- one wine cooler and we’re done, but two wine coolers and they’re talking about electric forks and putting salt grains on spoons for shits and giggles and everything sounds stupid.

who’s uncomfortable with PDA and who loves it? Both hate pda don’t hold hands it makes you gay.

who texts more often? Minho texts a lot. Paige writes letters.

big spoon/little spoon? Minho wants to spoon Paige but Paige hates being touched, especially when they’re sleeping. They’d rather jetpack their tall princeling.

who made the 1st move? Minho, surprisingly. Paige didn’t hide their affections for Minho, but they were just affections, nothing more, did not want to act on them because rejection = instakill. When Minho reciprocated said feelings Paige freaked like any sensible shoujo manga protagonist would and it took two volumes for them to be like “okay my shortcomings compared to your flawlessness isn’t so bad so I guess we could date.”

any nicknames? Paige calls Minho “my sun and stars,” in Dothraki. It took Minho a good six months and three watches of Game of Thrones for him to realize that oh shit they’ve been calling me this all this time?!! And the boy heart-eyes at the thought. He calls them dearest and it takes all their willpower not to roll around on the floor and squeal.

the most embarrassing music on their phone? Minho has Top 40 on his phone and Paige has an amalgam of broadway hits, Asian pop, Bengali music and Techno music. Putting their music on shuffle during long road trips is a hoot. Minho can’t deal.

what’s “their song”? In their circle of friends Paige will insist “Amerikkaz Most Wanted” by Tupac and Snoop Dogg is their song, but truthfully it’s BoA’s “Romance”.

who reads more? Minho reads just as much as Paige, but Paige has the extensive book collection and always reads the longer, “difficult” books just for the hell of it.

who remembers anniversaries? They both do; Minho is sentimental and so is Paige (but they won’t admit it). Paige has a photographic memory and remembers everything.

who is better with kids? Minho; Paige is terrified of kids, but they like them for some reason so they are patient with them as they teach them languages and useless facts. (“hey did you know that kangaroos can’t jump backwards?”)

who tops/bottoms? Paige called bottom bunk (“but I gotta pee more at night!” Minho whines. “You get top bunk,” Paige growls, booting up Mortal Kombat X on the PS4)

what’s their favorite activity? Playing games together, traveling, playing soccer, swimming, having eating contests...

weirdest hobbies? Minho watches Ron Perlman montages on YouTube sometimes...

who would make a blanket fort? would the other help? Paige makes blanket forts (“I am a fearsome dragon and I am required a cave of my choosing.” “Paige there are no caves in Seoul.” “So this blanket fort will suffice, homie.”) Minho asks if he can come in and Paige cheerfully says yes you may, and thereby declares their dragon hoard as cute soccer boys named Minho.

who cooks? Paige. Minho can cook, but he’s busier than Paige and Paige is honestly better because if it were up to Minho it would be kimchi jjigae and ramyun mostly. Should Paige cook they don’t have the same recipe every week; sometimes they’ll do themed weeks. Just no Mexican (“but I like Mexican food!” Minho whines. “I’m sick of it, plus it gives you the Hershey squirts.” “Lies and slander!”)

how do they eat ice cream? what’s their favorite flavors? They put the ice cream in their mouth and they eat it…? Paige is allergic to ice cream and eats lime sorbet while Minho likes strawberry and vanilla.

who said “i love you” first? Believe it or not, Paige did. And Minho’s brain rebooted and he stumbled over the words as he said “hey I love you too champ.” and Paige’s brain is still short-circuiting to this day.

do they go on dates? what are they like? When Minho has free time and doesn’t want to play video games with Paige they go out to dinner, go to the aquarium, go book shopping to add to their burgeoning collection (“I just can’t help myself I need books!” Paige cries. “In a few short years we’re gonna be on Hoarders, aren’t we?”) They’re very quiet and don’t draw attention to themselves because there are fans about

Christmas traditions? They wear ugly Christmas sweaters and Paige speaks a lot of German, and they bake a lot of goodies from America that Minho hasn’t heard of.

do they go trick or treating? who stays home and hands out the candy? No one trick or treats in Seoul; kids don’t go wandering in the city like that, but they do go to costume parties. Paige brings in Halloween-themed treats and they engage in spooky tomfoolery with the other members of SHINee.

do they stargaze? Expand. Stargazing is difficult in Seoul, so when they go on their rare Jeju trip, they go to the most remote part of the island, where the only light is from the fishing boats. Paige didn’t major in astronomy and Minho isn’t familiar with constellations but they like to look up at the night sky and love the atmosphere. Almost always, Paige will start to sing the Discovery Channel’s “The World is Awesome” song and Minho always has to shut them up. Do they listen? Fuck no.

who’s the laziest? Paige! Shamelessly! Minho doesn’t complain because they pull their own weight and knows that their job requires that they do a lot and when they wants to do nothing, they will do nothing, Lord willing.

who complains more? Paige doesn’t like to complain; they internalizes their strife. Minho rarely complains.

who wakes up earlier? Paige naturally gets up at 6 am and hates it. If it were up to them they’d sleep in with Minho. Minho has to get up early for flights to other countries but he wants to sleep in with Paige.

who’s more protective? Minho is the feudal lord and Paige is the handmaiden.

who gets jealous easily? Minho. His middle name is Jealousy. Paige finds it amusing, but doesn’t purposefully get into situations where his jealousy may spike. Sometimes they call him “Eifersuchtig Honeypot” and he scowls at them.

how do they cuddle? when and where? They cuddle on the couch, under a snuggie, after a long day of dance practice and translation work and art and Minho is nursing a beer and Paige is watching Funhaus.

how did they meet? Christianmingles.com Paige was wandering around the restaurants by Konkuk and stumbled into a dumpling and ramyun shop. They were eating alone and Minho was there with Jinki and some friends from TV. Minho was lamenting about how he missed the food in America and how he would like to visit the other states (“I like Texas, it’s a shame I’m never there for more than 48 hours”) and Paige is like Texas? I’m from there! And them can’t help themselves and butts into the conversation, telling them about their family in Texas and all the pros and cons of America. Normally idols are tired and don’t want to engage in public, and Paige felt bad about that, but Minho and Jinki noticed that they didn’t act like a fan and didn’t invade their space like a fan, but as a person just casually overhearing their conversation. So they talk, and are happy that they know Korean. They both try to converse in English and Paige freaks and starts speaking in German (“I have no clue what you’re saying now????”) Jinki is flummoxed but Minho is intrigued and asks the ol’ “hey do you know kpop?” question and Paige deadpans “oh boy I do.” their dry and abrasive wit is enough to make Minho laugh and open up to them easily and offers to show them around Konkuk, since they are a teacher at the Konkuk middle school. And the rest is history.

what do they smell when they smell amorentia? The fuck is this.

what lockscreens do they have? Minho has a group selca of SHINee celebrating Paige’s birthday, and Paige has a photo of Minho napping and they put a bow on his head.

how many emojis do they use and which ones? Paige keeps forgetting that emojis are a thing and Minho uses emoticons like it’s 2011.

who throws ill-advised parties? Should Taemin visit Paige’s apartment for nefarious reasons he ropes them into throwing parties where it’s nothing but Achievement Hunter playing in the background and nonstop Cards Against Humanity and Million Dollars, But… and that they get to make snacks and regales the party in their wild stories of their travels. Also it devolves into a Minho roasting session. Paige is always down for it.

who sets the other’s ringtone to something loud and obnoxious behind their back? Minho because Paige never locks their phone. What he doesn’t know is that Paige always has their phone on vibrate. The joke backfires. (note: the phone is Ouran High School Host Club’s opening theme and when Paige finds out they’re pissed and go to put their phone on sound)

lick-claiming. who does it? is the other deterred? Minho, believe it or not. (“Choi we have kissed at least five times your cooties are now my cooties.” Paige takes the cookie, stares into Minho’s eyes, and bites into it with passion. Minho fumes)

who glitterizes everything? Paige! Loves glitter and would have it in every inch of the apartment if they could.

who is obsessed with HSM? Minho and Paige is like “love is dead”

who draws sharpie dicks on the other when they get blackout drunk? Minho was blackout drunk once and Paige didn’t put dicks on his face (“his face is perfect I’m not gonna mar it”) but they do take his phone and put the meatspin on all his phone tabs. Minho was displeased.

who uses chopsticks/can either of them use chopsticks? Both use chopsticks, but Paige is left-handed and holds chopsticks funny and Minho calls them out on it. (“How the fuck you expect me to eat these noodles, son?!”)

when they can’t sleep what do they do? Paige takes heavy amounts of melatonin to sleep, but it rarely works so they lie there talking about their desires to travel and what they’re gonna eat the next day.

what order do they wash themselves in the shower? They both wash anywhere and everywhere; showers are for cleaning you heathen.

who impulse buys? Paige, but mainly impulse buys food and snacks.

who’s clumsier? Paige is the Lad of Stubbed Toes and who the fuck put this banana peel here? Gotta step on it? Step on it? Why? You gotta.

what are their coffee orders? Minho likes Americano with a pump of vanilla syrup, Paige likes earl grey tea with inordinate amounts of sugar.

what apps do they have? Minho has the same apps as Paige except for Pinterest, Google Docs, Netflix, and Twitter. He has sports apps and an English vocabulary app for him to practice. Paige has translator apps and Google Docs.

what are their favorite TV shows? Both like watching old school anime and nature documentaries. Paige watches travel programs and Minho watches sports

[ntrending]

Lefties, you should feel very special

New Post has been published on https://nexcraft.co/lefties-you-should-feel-very-special/

Lefties, you should feel very special

In graduate school, I earned beer money by modeling for life drawing classes in various art departments. (Don’t judge, grad school doesn’t pay well and beer isn’t free.) In the long hours standing around, I would survey the room and count how many of the aspiring artists were left-handed. Later in my career, I did the same thing—counting lefties, not standing around naked—in the biology classes I taught.

Funny thing: in any given class, around 10 percent of the students were lefties. It turns out this is true for all human populations, not only middle-America university classes. Globally, about 90 percent of people are righties. But why?

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been fascinated by handedness—our almost ubiquitous tendency to favor one hand over the other—and maybe a little envious of the rare left-handers. Their rareness gave a certain mystique—and they got to use those funky chair-desks with the desktop on the “wrong” side.

What do we know about the genetics of being right- or left-handed, or even ambidextrous? And how does this help shape our understanding of biology in general?

What is “handedness” anyway?

Given how fundamental, and obvious, handedness is, we know surprisingly little about its genetics.

One complication—determining handedness isn’t straightforward. The dominance of your writing (and drawing) hand is a function of at least three things: Genetics to be sure, but also the environment, and, likely, random chance.

Why the environment? Think of the probably-not-apocryphal stories of the Catholic school nuns ruler-rapping the knuckles of anyone so sinister to write with their left hand. (My father-in-law swears these stories are true.)

In many cultures, the left is associated with evil. There has been, and may continue to be, considerable pressure against maintaining the left hand as the dominant hand.

Less violently, but no less effectively, there is convenience. Try using a pair of right-handed scissors with your left hand.

That didn’t work, did it?

The fact that scissors, and other assorted manual tools and appliances, from dessert forks to chainsaws, are designed for the righty majority means they’re harder to use lefty, resulting in considerable pressure to conform and use your right hand.

What does “right-handed” really mean?

This pressure means that many studies that defined handedness by identifying the dominant hand in writing may have miscategorized a substantial portion of the population.

A solution adopted by many researchers is to assay a suite of behaviours. There are a surprising number of activities that show a dominant hand, including the decidedly adult behaviour that may have just crossed your mind, but also more demure pastimes like sewing or spoon use.

A twist, which becomes important when we look at the genetics, is that researchers can classify people into one of three groups—right- or left-handed or ambidextrous—or two groups—right-handed and not right-handed.

Genetics definitely plays a role, but what kind of role? Is the genetics of handedness deterministic, essentially a right/left switch, or is it more subtle?

Could there be a genetic makeup, or genotype, that predisposes you to be not-right-handed? Handedness, then, could be a function of this genotype, and its interaction with the environment and random chance.

Right/left asymmetry is actually common

Other left-right asymmetries abound in human biology. Perhaps the most striking is the asymmetrical layout of our internal organs—heart, lungs, and digestive track.

But it’s the clockwise or counterclockwise whorl of hair that has had a central role in understanding the genetics of handedness. Much like the rotation of hurricanes and cyclones, the hair on our scalps forms a central spiral with a direction of rotation. (I’m not making this up. Find a pair of mirrors, or the person sitting next to you, and check me on this—or look at this picture.)

The whorl, and its direction, was the focus of a seminal paper on the genetics of handedness. The scientist, Amar Klar, hung out in local malls and surreptitiously recorded the whorl direction of shoppers’ hair. Most had clockwise whorls. He didn’t record the shopper’s dominant hand—but he didn’t have to. Remember, the bias in handedness is almost universal.

Because 90 percent of the human population is right-handed, Klar concluded that right-handedness and a clockwise whorl were correlated. He then directly surveyed a smaller group of people who had a counterclockwise whorl and found that this group split 50/50 between right-handed and not-right-handed.

In this way, Klar showed that handedness and whorl direction are associated, but not in a “all righties are clockwise; all lefties are counterclockwise” way.

A single gene for handedness?

Klar proposed an elegant alternative model that still only requires a single gene to determine both whorl direction and handedness.

Many genes have different forms, called alleles. We each carry two copies of every gene in our genome, one from mom and the other from dad. In some cases, but not all, one of these alleles is “dominant.” (Remember Gregor Mendel and his wrinkled and smooth peas?)

In Klar’s model of hair and hands, the handedness gene has two alleles; if you have one or two copies of the dominant allele, you have a clockwise whorl and you’re a righty. But when you have two copies of the other form, chance comes into play—and that’s when things get interesting.

Klar’s interpretation is that these individuals always have the rare counterclockwise hair whorl and that they’re not right-handed about half the time. In other words, in these individuals, handedness is a genetic flip of the coin.

This kind of combination of genetics, the environment, and simple random chance underlies most human biology, from height or weight to drug resistance or cancer susceptibility. Understanding the genetics of human handedness can, then, help us to understand human genetics in general.

Other species?

What about asymmetry and handedness in other species?

Like many “complex” behaviours (think language or tool use), we used to think of handedness as a uniquely human trait. Once we actually started looking, however, we’ve found “handedness” in many other species, from snails to kangaroos, even to our ancient evolutionary ancestors.

Snails don’t have a dominant hand (or any hands, really), but their shells twist either right (almost all the time) or left (very rarely).

Cephalopods, octopus, cuttlefish and squid are a group of molluscs (like snails) that do have arms and, it turns out, are “handed.” When I briefly studied cephalopod behaviour in the 1980s, we didn’t think that octopus or cuttlefish could distinguish left from right, but more recent work shows that they can and that they have a preferred arm or side.

Scale-eating cichlids, a sort of creepy fish that feeds exclusively on the scales of other, less fortunate, fish, preferentially attack from the left or from the right.

Your cat reaches for food with its dominant paw, but your leg-lifting dog is ambidextrous in its peeing preference.

Let’s experiment

A central challenge in exploring the genetics of handedness in humans is our (completely justified) unwillingness to experiment on humans. I won’t genetically engineer my daughter to see if I can make her left-handed, but I’d be willing to try it on a snail.

Because handedness occurs in other species, we can study them to determine its genetic mechanism. This comparative approach underlies all model organisms; it is why, for example, we study the metabolism of fruit flies to understand the biology of deep underground mining and the genetics of chromosome cross-talk and cancer.

One important point to keep in mind, though, is that similar systems aren’t necessarily controlled by the same genes. Klar, for example, found that organ asymmetry is determined by a genetic pathway that is distinct from the one for hair whorl and handedness. Handedness in cats or snails is likely genetic, but the genetics may not be identical to that in humans.

Animal handedness differs from us in another way, too. The extreme bias present in humans, that 90:10 ratio, doesn’t exist. Cats, for example, are just as likely to be right-pawed or left-pawed. American lobsters have a larger “crusher” claw and a sharper “cutter” claw, but the big, dominant claw is equally likely to be on the right or left. Kangaroos tend to be lefties, and chimps tend to be righties, but in both the bias isn’t as strong as it is in humans.

Why the bias in humans? Handedness is biologically complex and involves substantial co-ordination between the brain and hand. The brain is itself asymmetrical, with the left and right hemispheres playing different roles in co-ordinating activities such as pattern recognition or language.

Interestingly, there seem to be subtle differences in the brain architecture of righties and lefties. Does the bias, then, reflect some kind of wiring in the brain? Some studies have tied left-handedness to changes in brain function and behaviour.

There are also some groups in which lefties are over-represented, including artists and architects. These numbers suggest that there is a creative benefit to being wired this way.

(The more observant, or pedantic, may be asking how this point fits with my initial observation that about 10 percent of art students were lefties. The answer is likely sample size. I stood around in front of a lot of students—but still only a couple hundred. This may simply have not been big enough sample for me to see the jump to 20 percent from 10 percent. Sampling limitations are the bane of biologists.)

Possible creative, or cognitive, differences bring us back to my initial fascination, and envy, of that sinister minority.

If you need someone to cut along the dotted line with the first pair of scissors that come to hand, perhaps then any righty will do. But if you need someone to think outside the box, you might want to enlist a lefty.

Thanks to Jack Bateman, Jeff Arnold, Kim Fahner, and Jean Boal for their invaluable suggestions and for pointing me to some of the literature and ideas that support this piece. Any limitations in interpreting that literature is mine alone.

Thomas Merritt is a Professor and Canada Research Chair, Chemistry and Biochemistry, Laurentian University. This article was originally featured on The Conversation.

Written By Thomas Merritt/The Conversation