#my favorite idea has reached the beating my head against it stage

[bookshelf-in-progress]

I'm approaching the most terrifying part of the Exciting New Story Idea process: Writing it down.

[sublimecatgalaxy]

The Accountant

Pairing: Fezco (Euphoria) x Reader

Summary: Reader is a successful accountant just like Fezco is a successful business man. He's only been to her place of work a few times but he felt the need to go support her and catch her alone.

Song: "Woman" by Doja Cat

Warnings: Not much, smut, fluff, swearing, and mentions of drugs

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: I don't know where this idea came from in the deep dark parts of my mind. I am not ashamed.

The room seems to move in slow motion as I catch his gaze under the strobing light. My heels click against the tile floor, my gaze fluttering over to him every once in while, looking at him through my lashes. He has a small smirk on his lips, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck. He gets nervous, seeing me in my environment being something that's overwhelming to him. In a good way though.

His eyes were latched onto the tight lacy contraption that wraps around my body. It's a bit more modest than what I normally wear, but I could tell by the look in his eyes that this would be his new favorite of my outfits. He was busy earlier, counting his money from a run, so he didn't get to see me get ready like he usually would. Typically he would be laying on the bed, his eyes watching me as I applied my make up, putting my hair up. I normally wouldn't get very far, his hands pulling me back to the bed before I could step foot out the door.

But he was busy today. So, right now, is the first time that he's seeing me in this light. Not saying that he hadn't seen it before. This one was the piece that I modeled for him last week, his eyes bulging out of his head when I walked into the living room.

I wasn't shocked to see him here, front row, his eyes trailing my body as he adjusted himself in his seat. He had been here as many times as I could count using both of my hands. I was more than excited about the fact that he came to visit me, an extra sway in my hips at the knowledge.

He was just always declining my offers to come watch me dance so I was confused as to why now?

Deciding to put the thought from my head, I trail my fingers along the metal pole, dipping low and catching the attention of the drooling men in front of me. My usuals were here, surprisingly, for a Wednesday night. Their money practically falling out of their wallets and onto the stage as I collect it, sending them a flirty wink. I could feel Fez watching me, watching them, knowing that one wrong look on their part, they would be on the ground.

Who needs the copious amounts of bodyguards here when you have your own sitting in the front row?

Most workers here; bodyguards, dancers, bartenders; all knew Fezco. Whether it be from his business or from me, they knew him somehow. Knowing him and his business in dealing drugs, his pockets will probably be full by the time he leaves with me tonight. I can pretend for a few seconds that he came here for the money, for the business, but I know that his real reason was much naughtier.

The music changes, the girls next to me smiling as I make my way down the stairs. This was technically a 'shift change', the older, more experienced dancers stepping onto the stage as my group goes to their private session rooms. I liked the private sessions, the time giving me a break from the loud music and distracting lights. I know that from the look in Fez's eyes that he'd be buying me out tonight, not letting another man touch me, especially with him being here.

Stepping into the booth, before I can shut the door, a hand prevents me from doing it. I turn my head, my heart beating wildly, Fez's hand placed firmly against the door as I grin wickedly. My man tilts his head at me teasingly, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

"Hiya baby." I smile, stepping back into the room as he follows me, my quiet voice like a sirens call to him. He smirks to himself, his hand reaching back to lock the door as he stalks towards me. I sit myself down on the soft bench, the plush pillow behind me hugging my curves. Spreading my legs to make room for him, he gladly takes his spot, his lips leaning down to press against my hairline.

"Hi doll." He whispers, kneeling down in front of me, his hands spreading over my bare thighs through my fishnets. His eyes are dark, his fingers dancing up my leg as I tilt my head at him. "You look too fucking good." He whispers, his lips pressing against my inner thigh as I shutter. "Can't stand their eyes on you. Wanted you all to myself." He mutters against my skin, his hands skimming up my hips to my waist.

"You've got me all night, I assume?" I ask quietly, my hand reaching out to cup his cheeks. He nods, his arms winding around my legs to place them over his shoulders. I link my ankles behind his head with a smile, Fez's eyes drinking me in as I enjoy the feeling of his hands on me.

"You gonna be screaming my name 'til your shift is up." He whispers, his lips skimming against my thigh as I hum. My butt wiggles downwards, my back resting against the bench as he teases me. "Oh, you think you gettin' some?" He asks with a laugh, my hips wiggling as his eyes flutter down to my core. "Hmm, whatcha want?" Our eyes lock, a small pout on my lips as he presses his lips against my clothed clit. I moan quietly, my eyes not leaving his as he grins.

"I wanna feel good." I whisper, my hands gripping the edge of the bench, knuckles white as I whimper. He nods, his fingers working at the buttons on my lingerie. My body heats up at his movements, the anticipation killing me. Hearing a slight rip, my eyes fly down to him, the fishnets now ripped as his eyes widen.

"Whoops." He mutters with a smirk, his thumb reaching up to drag through my slit. I squeal, my hips chasing his fingers as he laughs teasingly. Wrapping his lips around his thumb, tasting me, his eyes flutter shut as I gasp breathlessly. "Lay back baby." He whispers, reaching forward to press me back into the pillow. I throw my head back with a huff, his tongue gently flattening against me. My eyes flutter shut as he laps at me gently, small moans leaving my lips as he enjoys himself. "You taste like fucking candy." He whispers against me, his lips wrapping around my clit as I gasp, my vision growing fuzzy as I tuck my head into the pillow next to me. "I wanna hear ya." He whispers, his fingers gently slipping into me without warning as I whimper unexpectedly.

Between his fingers and the brutal attack on my bundle of nerves, he's getting me there quicker than normal. The anticipation from the rest of the night edging the both of us. Now that we finally had our hands on each other, we wouldn't hold back.

"Fez- Fuck." I cry as his thumb circles my clit quickly, his fingers having no mercy inside of me as my back arches off the furniture. He laughs proudly at me crumbling in front of him.

"Yeah? You gonna cum?" He asks, his pupils blown as I look down at him. His pupils are blown, lips attached to my thigh to leave bright purple marks. I call out his name over and over again, tears pricking against my eyes as I mumble inaudibly. "Come on doll." He whispers, his voice contrasting against my squeals.

When his lips return to me, I'm done for, falling over the edge. My jaw drops in a silent moan, my chest heaving in gasps as he edges me on. His fingers don't stop until I'm completely calmed down, my legs wanting to instinctively close in on myself. My tired gaze flutters down to his proud one, the sight of him kneeling in between me, his lips glistening, riling me up again.

"Don't think you done with me yet."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------Taglist: @jamespotterswifey @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex--awesome--22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @letmebeyoureuphoria @rafecameronswhore @4lyssasworld

[moxfirefly]

Leo with prompt #8 please

Pretty pretty pretty please

With so many thank you on top. You're writing sends me into the best mood.

Aww shucks it always makes me happy to hear that!

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

Leo was an asshole.

Not just in general terms, an obvious statement that Raph could literally break his neck agreeing with you, but Leo was an honest to god asshole.

You wanted to throttle him. Possibly even slap him. Maybe knock over one of his bonsai trees.

Okay that would be cruel at the very least, guy loves his bonsais, but...

You felt another jolt rip through your body causing the drink in your hand to slosh about. Some of it spilled on the hardwood floor and by the looks of it Vern would have a coronary due to it. April placed a hand on your shoulder, concern in her eyes. “You alright y/n? You look a little in pain?” She was only looking out for you but the only thought in your brain was to just yell, ‘Leo is a fucking asshole’.

Speaking of said asshole, he was over by the billiards table, resting against it while Casey and Raph had their latest competitive bought. The blue banded leader was the very picture of innocence, hell he wasn’t even drinking the god damn boy scout. “Hey Leo, you ready to get your ass handed as soon I finish handing it to your brother” Casey rested his weight on the billiards stick, possibly another coronary for Vern who had them imported from some fancy woodwork place.

Leo was busy looking at his phone, his thumb running across the screen in a nonchalant flick. “Might have to rain check that one, Case” His expression was neutral, bored at best. “Oh come on man, my birthday my rules” The birthday boy in question frowned, even more so when a ball was knocked into the corner pocket where he was standing. “Sorry, chief Vincent has been texting me all night updates of a new case” He flicked his thumb more rapidly, Casey assumed probably pictures of the possible offenders.

“Are we working later?” Was Raph’s question as he lined up another shot, which Casey prayed he would miss. He didn’t naturally.

“I’ll let you know, but doesn’t seem so” Leo actually felt proud of himself, an honest to goodness lie out of his own mouth. You would be proud of him, if you weren’t busy glaring daggers at him.

The situation was the following, you had only yourself to blame, but it had occurred to you to incorporate some outside play with Leo. So, you had purchased a remote control vibrator, a fancy little egg shaped thing that was currently resting inside your underwear. It could be controlled remotely via a phone app and while Leo wasn’t big on public stunts like this, that reptile part of his brain was yelling in excitement.

Two hours.

Casey’s little birthday party had been active for two hours. Which meant a that Leo had been running dangerous circles around his phone screen and you were already forgetting how to walk and talk at the same time. Vern’s penthouse was a little more packed than the usual gang it could inhabit, a few off duty officers that Casey hung out with and knew the terrapins were there.

You had told April by now that your day of the month had come up and the cramps were just a little more harsh than usual. Knowing all too well those woes, she rubbed your arm affectionately. “You don’t have to stay if you’re too beat up” She was bummed out, it was fun to have a human female friend given her circumstances had her putting up with five testosterone filled men, four of which were literal giant turtles.

You shook your head with a smile. “And miss out on drunk karaoke? I’m good, I can handle- th-this” Oh that was dangerous, that was truly entering very dangerous territories. When your eyes landed on Leo, stupid smug brat with his pretty lips and holding his phone like the prized possession it currently was, you glared. Excusing yourself you made the slow walk towards Leo, he had been standing at the mini bar area (that you found clashed horribly in this man cave) looking quite proud of himself.

“I’m going to kill you” You stage whispered at him, a full smile on your lips. Your large terrapin boyfriend chuckled, phone at his side and his thumb making a series of swivels on it. A hand landed on his plastron, nails pressed harshly on the plates. “You look a little red faced, too much wine?” He turned slightly, reaching over the mini bar to grab a seltzer water.

“You are the biggest asshole at this party and that says a lot given that Vern lives here” The treacherous buzzing eased off when Leo took a second to unscrew the bottle of seltzer water. You took the opportunity to breath but just as he took a sip, he was back to swiping his finger. “May I remind you that you bought it and you told me to do this, I really don’t see how I’m the bad guy here” He left the phone on the small counter space, another brief reprieve.

“But if I’m the biggest asshole here, I guess I should live up to the title” He smiled, he honest to god gave you that typical sweet boy smile.

Before proceeding to basically DJ his phone screen with an index finger.

You pressed your face to his arm and prayed to god that, welll, just, fuck!

“Leonardo I can’t have an orgasm in public!” Your words were muffled by the skin of his arm, regardless the party was on full blast. There was a delicious thrill at the idea of it though, as Leo wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close to him, you could make out just how much he had been enjoying this game.

He kissed your temple, nothing salacious about it, just a sweet peck.

Then his mouth fell closer to your ear.

"I don't give two shits that we're in public and people are watching."

Your eyes went wide, the intensity of the toy being put on full blast and Leo twitching his finger on the screen without any intention of letting up.

He hugged you closer to him, smiling against your temple as your grip became iron tight on his clothes. As the music got heavier and the chatter picked up, you did all you could do to muffle your moans of pleasure against Leo’s plastron, thankfully using the same thing to hide your face.

Because your eyes were rolling back and Leo didn’t seem to have any intention of slowing down. Even when Raph’s gaze landed on the pair, Leo just mouthed ‘cramps’ at him with a sad expression, the large brute made a sympathetic look before returning to his own on going conversation.

Only when he felt you start to tremble, incoherent babbling he could only make out to be begging, did Leo ease up to a soft rumble that only served to shock you from time to time. When you felt like your vision returned, you looked up at him all red faced and shakey breathing.

Leo petted your hair, smirking down at your slightly disheveled state. Surely this was going to be his favorite toy, even if it was currently back firing on him. He was hideously turned on and your warm body against him only served to make things worse for him.

But naturally you wanted some payback, since he had been a wonderful, delightful and merciless asshole.

“Sensei, please?” You whispered up at him, all pouty lips and innocent eyed. Inside you were grinning victoriously when he grunted and held you tighter.

Even when his eyes landed on the bathroom, you knew the real winner had been you.

[nocturnalazura]

Between The Sheets | Kaminari X Reader

80's Rocker Kaminari X Groupie Fem!Reader

WC : 2.8K

Warning: 18+, semi public sex (Kind of ), quirkless au

Summary: Taking a break from normal life you spend an entire tour with your favorite band. Only to find out that you might mean a little more than you think you do.

A/N: This is for @hisgoodpuppy's decades collab! This was a super fun cute idea for a collab. (Also I am so sorry this is "tad" bit late.)

The surrounding crowd suddenly comes to life as the stage lights turn on, and the band walks out. Just like everyone else, you can’t help but scream and jump around, reaching out towards them. Lucky for you, you don’t have to reach far as you're pressed against the barricade, directly in front of where the lead singer is. Scanning over the stage you watch the different band members take their places, however the moment the lead singer is in front of you, you can’t take your eyes off of him.

Denki Kaminari, his presence, is almost overwhelming in a way. Thin build, messy blond hair, and tattoos covering his pale skin. Everything about him makes you fall apart. His thin fingers wrap around the mic, pulling it closer to him as he addresses the screaming crowd. Bakugou, the drummer, smashes a stick down against a cymbal as Kaminari rambles to the crowd for a moment. Kaminari laughs and throws him a finger just as Bakugou counts down for the first song.

The surrounding air is thick with the sound and heat from a pumped up crowd. In front of you, Kaminari belts out perfectly poetic lyrics and lets out the occasional rough growl of words. You can’t take your eyes off of him, every move he makes has your heart skipping a beat. As Kirishima and Sero take a moment to banter in between songs, Kaminari looks over the crowd while he takes a drink. As he scans the front row, his eyes light up as they land on you, and he sends you a little wink. He takes a few steps towards the side stage and talks to someone you can’t see before coming back and talking to the guys. Just before the next song starts, a security guard walks over to you and leans in close to speak in your ear.

“Your presence has been requested backstage.” He grunts before pulling open a small area in the barricade and pulls you through while pushing back others.

As you walk in front of the stage, Kaminari watches you with a pleased face as he sees you being led to the back. After passing through large doors, you find yourself side stage, happily head banging as you watch them from your new spot. You bounce around in your tight leather skirt and bright yellow crop top. A large smile spreads across your face as their bassist, Sero notices you and lets out a laugh as he shakes his head at you. The band walks off the stage for a quick break, and immediately Kaminari has his arms wrapped around you.

“Hey, babe.” He whispers against your ear as he tugs you closer to him. “Missed you.”

“Oh, I’m sure you missed me. I’m sure you totally didn’t find someone else to hang out with for the rest of your last tour.”

“You know no one will ever compare to you, babe.”

“Y/n! How long have we got you for this time around?” Kirishima says throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“As long as this asshole will have me.” You joke while gesturing to Kaminari.

“As long as I’ll have you? This is the start of the tour babe, you saying you wanna spend the entire thing with me?”

“What, you don’t want me around? I thought I was your favorite, baby?” You pout.

“You are.” He mumbles before kissing you. “You just never stick around for more than a few shows, is all.”

“Got bored with regular life. Figured I’d spend a little time with my favorite rock star.”

Kaminari grins at you and gives you another kiss before letting you go, so he can grab a drink quickly before he has to go back on. Bakugou nods at you as he moves around the backstage area. The band’s manager Iida nods at you as he tells the guys to get ready to go back on. They all roll their eyes and wave him off as they move back to stage. Kaminari gives you a quick kiss before hitting the stage again. Finding your home on the side stage, you happily bounce around to the music again until a cool bottle of water is held out in front of you.

“You really wanna stay the whole tour?” Comes Iida’s voice as you take the bottle.

“Yeah, as long as that’s ok with everyone.”

“He’d never admit it, but he gets bored when you leave. Plus, the rest of us like having you around.”

“I don’t know if I believe that, Denki could have anyone.”

“True, but you’re different. He sulks for a few dates once you’re gone. He doesn’t do that with other groupies.”

“So I’m just a groupie then?” You tease.

Iida shakes his head rapidly. “No, no, not at all! You’re different. He’s different with you around. He’s happy.”

Giving Iida a large smile, you turn your head back to the stage and continue bopping around happily as Denki sings and screams. The heavy bang of the drums shakes you to your core in the best way possible, the melody of bass and guitar mixes in so perfectly that you feel at home. There’s something about watching the guys rock out on stage that fills you with a sense of belonging. You spend the entire last half of the set jumping around and headbanging to your heart's content.

As the band says their goodbyes, you excitedly bounce on your heels. Finally, Kaminari dashes offstage and grabs your hand, eagerly pulling you through the building to the dressing room. Once the two of you stumble into the room, his hands are on your hips, tugging you against his sweat covered body. You grimace slightly, but still wrap your arms around his neck and tug him down into a long kiss. Just as he starts to deepen the kiss, the door is rudely slammed open. “No fucking in the dressing room.” Bakugou growls as he slams his shoulder into Kaminari as he enters the room.

Sero sighs as he and Kirishima follow behind. “Don’t be a dick, it’s Y/n after all.”

“Y/n or not, no fucking in the dressing room. You wanna fuck, go out to the bus.”

“Fine, we’ll meet you assholes out there then.” sighs Kaminari.

Giving the guys a quick wave, you let Kaminari guide you out of the venue and to the back where the bus is parked. As he pushes the door open he lights a cigarette and throws an arm over your shoulders to keep you close. A group of fans immediately erupt into screams and cheers as you step out into the night. Kaminari smiles as he blows smoke out into the night air. Dropping his arm to your waist he tugs you close as he scribbles quick messy autographs, cigarette barely hanging on. Without thinking you reach up and pluck the cigarette from his lips and take a long drag. He gives you a lopsided smile while the group of fans glares and attempt to pull his attention back to them. He smiles at them and signs a few more things before taking his cigarette back and pulling you onto the bus. The metal door slams closed behind the two of you, shaking the bus slightly.

“You really wanna spend all tour with me?” He questions as he wraps his arms around your waist to pull you against him.

“Yeah, is that a problem? Will I be ruining your fun?” You tease as he walks you back towards the bunks.

“Nah. I’d rather have you.”

“Really? Mr. Rockstar would rather have me? You can literally have anyone, half the girls out there are prettier than me.”

“They don’t even come close to you.” He mumbles as he leans down to kiss you.

You can’t help but smile at his compliment, only to moan as he deepens the kiss. The bitter taste of his last cigarette mixes with the smooth taste of his pre-show whiskey. The hands holding onto your waist slide down a little more to grope the soft globes of your ass through your leather miniskirt. His hands become greedier as you pass through the curtain that leads into the bunk area. Without much thought he pulls away from you and nudges you towards one of the middle bunks. Laughing softly he watches you hoist yourself up and kick off your boots, before climbing up with you.

Kaminari easily situates himself over you and pulls the little red curtain in front of the opening closed to hide the two of you away. As darkness takes over the small space he leans down and captures your lips once again. Holding himself on one arm, his other slides along your stomach, calloused fingers sneak under the thin material of your crop top. Finally, he sits up long enough to tug his ripped shirt over his head and pulls your own top over your head. Both articles of clothing tumble out of the bunk as he leans back over you to kiss you deeply. His hands slide up your body to cup your breasts squeezing softly as you pull at his hair.

“Fuck I missed having you around.” Kaminari groans against your lips as he ruts his hips into yours.

“I’m yours for the entire tour, Denki.”

Giving you a large smile he leans back down to kiss you softly. Sliding your hands down his body, you pop the button on his pants and do your best to start working them down. He immediately takes your hint and awkwardly kicks them off before pulling your skirt and panties down. Everything falls out of the bunk as the two of you scramble to get closer together again. One of his arms finds its way under you, pulling you up and closer to him. As he leans down to kiss you again, his free hand slips between your legs, fingers ghosting over your wet folds.

You moan softly into the kiss as he rubs his fingers over your clit. Moving them down he sinks two fingers into you slowly. His tongue dances with yours, muffling your moans as he scissors his fingers to stretch you open. He curls his fingers against your sweet spot and pulls away from the kiss, just in time to let your loud moan ring out into the empty bus.

“Denki, ‘M ready please.” You whisper against the side of his head.

Kaminari nods and pulls his fingers free, wrapping the same hand around himself. Lining himself up he kisses you hungerly just as he pushes into your tight heat. You can feel the deep rumble of his groan as his chest presses against yours. The moment you pull out of the kiss you hear the door open as the rest of the band enter the bus. Your eyes widen at the sound, and you clamp your mouth shut looking up at Kaminari with a pleading face. He however, gives you a wide grin and pulls his hips back only to slam back into you harshly. You honestly can’t help the moan that’s forced out of you as he stretches you perfectly.

On the other side of the curtain the chatter of the guys suddenly falls silent. You can feel your cheeks heating up as minor embarrassment settles low in your belly. Kaminari smiles down at you and leans forward to kiss you again as he picks a steady pace. He pulls one of your legs up to wrap around his waist, effectively pulling your focus back to him. His tongue dances with yours, easily muffling your noises as he rocks his hips into yours. The thick tip of his cock rubs against all the right places as his hands move around, exploring your body for the first time since the last show they had in your city months ago.

Bringing your other leg up to wrap around his waist, you let out a long moan when he sinks a little deeper into you. Picking up his pace, Kaminari pulls out of the kiss and tucks his face into the crook of your neck. Your nails rake across his back, while he works on leaving marks along your neck. The heavy smack of skin fills the small space around the two of you. On the other side of the curtain you can hear the chatter of the other guys filling the bus. Kaminari doubles his efforts, cock rubbing against all the right places inside you as he fucks you roughly. His fingers dig into the fat of your hips, sure to leave bruises once he’s done with you.

“Denki!” You squeak out as quietly as possible. “Gonna cum”

“Go ahead, babe. Soak my cock.” He growls against your neck as he pushes a hand between the two of you to rub at your clit quickly.

You squirm under him and dig your nails into his back as you let out a loud moan. Finally, you fall over the edge as you call out his name and gush around his cock. Kaminari groans as you tighten around him as you cum, his hips stutter and slam into yours as he follows you over the edge. He groans into your neck, hips slowly rolling into yours as he paints your walls white with cum.

Kaminari places a soft kiss on your shoulder before lifting his head and grinning at you. “God, I fucking missed you.”

“You mean you missed fucking me, right?” You tease. “Little bit of both, honestly. I did just miss you. I like hanging out with you while we drive to other cities.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like when you’re on tour with us.”

“That’s good since I’m spending the entire tour with you.”

“If you two are done fucking we’re going to get food!” Bakugou yells.

Your cheeks heat up again as Kaminari laughs and pulls out of you. Scrambling around his bunk awkwardly he pulls on a pair of boxers and hops out of the bunk to grab clean pants and tosses your clothing back into the bunk for you to change. You awkwardly redress yourself before carefully climbing out of the bunk and wrap an arm around Kaminari’s waist. He immediately wraps one around your shoulder and leads you out to the little main area of the bus.

“You two are the worst.” Growls Bakugou.

“Nah, Y/n’s the best. She has the prettiest voice.” Sero jokes, laughing as you press your face into Kaminari’s chest and throw him a finger.

“Ignore them. We missed you, we like him a lot better when you’re around.” Grins Kirishima.

“So I’ve been told.”

“You’re all assholes, I’m perfectly fucking pleasant at all times, regardless of if she’s here or not.”

“That’s a big ass fucking lie. She makes you tolerable.” Bakugou snorts as he opens a beer. “Plus we all like her a hell of a lot more than we like you.”

Everyone bursts into laughter as Kaminari makes an offended noise at his bandmate. And just like that everything falls into place. The band accepts you easily, and pulls you around to everything they do. You find yourself directly in front of the stage in the pit or side stage of every show. Kaminari keeps you close to him every chance he gets. Photographers snap pictures of the two of you, plastering your face on the front cover of every shitty music magazine. The months pass and as the end of the tour creeps closer and closer, you can feel a small pit start to form low in your stomach. For now though, you soak up the last week of the tour, your last moments with Kaminari.

Tonight is one of the hotel nights, since you're in the same area for two shows. Curling yourself around one of the plush pillows you let yourself nap while the band has a meeting with their record label and manager. Hours tick by as you sleep, until you’re awoken by the feeling of arms caging you in and a body laying on top of yours.

“Mmm Denki, I’m sleeping.” You whine. “I know but I have amazing news!”

“What?”

“We’ve got a European tour planned. We’re going to Europe in 2 months!”

Sitting up to look at him, you can feel your heart sinking. “Europe! That’s amazing!”

“So fucking amazing.”

“I’m so happy for you.”

“You have a passport right? We can get you one if you don’t.” “Why would I need a passport?”

Kaminari shrinks slightly. “Oh, well if you don’t want to go you don’t have to. Sorry I just assumed.”

“You, you want me to go?”

“Well, yeah? It’d be more fun to have my girlfriend there with me.”

“Girlfriend?”

His cheeks flare pink as he looks away from you, cocky band member attitude fully disappearing from him. “Sorry, we never talked about it. Again, I just kind of assumed. Forget it.”

“You want me to be your girlfriend and go on tour with you?” You whisper.

“Well, yeah. If you want to.”

All the worry and sadness from before quickly melts away as you launch yourself into him. “We’re going to Europe!”

“We are? You are?”

“Can’t leave my boyfriend stranded now can I?”

“No, no you cannot.” He grins brightly.

[allthingsfangirl101]

The Other Evans–Troy Bolton

I was used to people complaining about my family. It kind of came with the territory of being Sharpay's and Ryan's younger sister. I wasn't used to running into an East High Wildcat every time I turned the corner at my family's country club.

Of all the selfish things my sister is capable of, the worse thing she's done is hired the entire East High student body to work at our country club for the summer. Dealing with the whining Wildcats on top of planning my sister's beloved show was too much.

I thought they were good people until they started working here. I've now realized how much they complained. I suddenly had a new respect for Coach Bolton.

"Next time I see Country Club Princess, I'm gonna launch her and her pink cart straight into the lake," Chad said through his teeth.

I walked into the kitchen as Troy patted Chad on the back. "I'll build the ramp, buddy."

Taylor cleared her throat and nodded towards me in the doorway. The boys' eyes widened when they looked at me.

"Y/N," Troy stuttered.

"What is wrong with your sister, Y/N?" Chad snapped at me. I subconsciously took a step back. "Has she always been like this? Focusing on only herself? How did you take that growing up? Why didn't you ever say anything to her?"

"She can't control her sister, Chad," Troy sighed.

"Still," he scoffed. "She's the only one Sharpay listens to! Y/N, you could at least tell her to be human."

"You think it was a walk in the park growing up with her?"

It was my turn to scoff. I had no idea where this sudden confidence was coming from but I went with it.

"Let me tell you something, Ball Boy," I said, slamming my clipboard on the nearest table. "My sister has always been a terror. Not that my brother helped. In fact, he kind of egged her on. I lost count of how many times they ganged up on me. Either I wasn't dressing right. Or my makeup wasn't the right shade. Or I wasn't standing in the right spot. Or I wasn't on key. Or I was late. Or this. Or that. It was always something!"

"Y/N," Kelsie tried to jump in.

"And try being the untalented sibling!" I continued. "My older siblings love to dance and sing and act. They're good at it and they know it! But I'm not. I can't play an instrument. I can't sing. I can't dance. What can I do? I can plan a pretty decent party. Which Sharpay loves. Instead of paying someone to do all the work, why not just have your sister do it for free!"

"Y/N," Taylor sighed.

"As if planning the Sharpay Bash wasn't bad enough," I laughed harshly, "why not hire the entire East High student body to add their drama to your summer?!"

I angrily left the kitchen, leaving East High shocked. As I walked down the hall, I realized I left my clipboard in the kitchen. Not wanting to go back, I kept walking away.

"Y/N."

I ignored my sister, not wanting to deal with her right now.

"Y/N, we need your help with something," Ryan sighed.

"Y/N," Sharpay whined, stopping her foot like a little kid.

"No!" I yelled, turning around and angrily facing them. "I'm done. I'm done with this. I'm done with you. I'm done with your stupid party. I'm done with this place. I'm done. You have both treated me like an employee instead of a sister. Which is saying something because you treat your employees like crap. Just ask all of East High. They've seen it!"

"Y/N," Ryan tried to defend themselves. When he hesitated, I said something I've always wanted to say.

"I'm done being your personal party planner," I said, standing up straighter.

"What?" Sharpay scoffed.

"I quit."

                                * * * * *

After I quit working for my sister, I made plans to go back home. I didn't have to worry about my parents getting upset because they weren't even in the country.

I had just packed up my room and was heading to my car when I heard someone calling out to me. I ignored them as I kept walking.

"Y/N, wait up!"

I gasped when someone ran around and stopped in front of me. I bit my lip, suddenly embarrassed when I saw Troy standing there.

"What do you want, Troy?" I sighed, crossing my arms over my chest.

"You left your clipboard in the kitchen yesterday," he said softly as he held my clipboard out for me to take. I hesitated before taking it and clutching it to my chest.

"I tried to find you but I guess you left," he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yeah," I said, clearing my throat. "I needed some space away from. . . Everything. So I went into town."

"I wanted to apologize for Chad yesterday," he said after a few beats of silence. "He was angry and tired and way out of line. He shouldn't have yelled at you like that. I'm sorry, Y/N."

I subconsciously tightened my arms around the clipboard as I shifted my weight.

"It's fine," I mumbled.

"So," he chuckled, "there's a rumor going around the kitchen. I wanted to know if it was true."

"What rumor?" I asked.

"That you quit being your sister's party planner," he said with a small smile. His smile turned teasing as my cheeks blushed. "Did you?"

"Maybe," I shrugged.

"That's amazing," he chuckled. "I bet she didn't take it well."

"Not at all," I said, clearing my throat. "She freaked."

He looked down, his smile falling when he saw the suitcase by my feet. "You're leaving?"

"I can't stay here," I sighed. "This place used to be one of my favorite places, but ever since I started working for Sharpay as her personal party planner. . . It's not the same here anymore. I come on vacation and end up working. So, I'm going home."

"You are?" He stuttered.

"It's not like I have a reason to be here," I couldn't help but scoff.

"Well," he said slowly as he reached up and scratched the back of his neck. "You could still play golf, swim. . . Plus the show is Sunday night."

"I don't think my sister wants me there," I said, glancing down at my suitcase. "Besides, why would I want to sit and watch her dance around the stage?"

"Because the rest of us are in the show too," he said barely audible.

"Troy," I sighed. "I don't think the Wildcats want me around either."

Before he could say anything, a honk came from outside. We looked up to see the valet getting out of my car.

"That's me," I said softly. I grabbed my suitcase and started walking past him. I was almost to the door when he spoke up.

"What if I want you there?"

I slowly turned around to see Troy looking at his feet. "What did you say?" I asked.

When he finally looked up at me, his eyes were soft. "I want you to stay, Y/N."

"You don't mean that," I said, my voice getting stuck in my throat.

He sighed as he walked over to me. "I do, Y/N. I want you to stay for the show."

"Troy," I stuttered. I gasped when he reached over and grabbed the clipboard from me. He tossed it onto a nearby couch before grabbing my hands.

"Stay," he whispered. "Stay here. This is still your parents' country club, not Sharpay's."

"So?" I whispered.

"So she doesn't have the right to throw you out," he said simply. "Stay here and enjoy the rest of your summer. I promise the Wildcats will be better behaved."

"I don't know," I stuttered, pulling my hands out of his hold. "What am I supposed to do? It's not like I have any friends. . ."

My sentence dropped and my cheeks burned. I looked away, wondering how much more I can embarrass myself in front of Troy Bolton.

"You have us," he mumbled.

"Yeah right," I scoffed. I cleared my throat when I saw the look on his face. "I just mean. . . It's no secret you guys don't like Sharpay and Ryan."

"But you aren't them," he said quickly. "You're nothing like your brother and sister, Y/N."

He hesitated before reaching over and grabbing my hands again. He intertwined our fingers, slightly tugging on my arms to pull me closer. I looked up at him through my eyelashes.

"Please stay, Y/N," he pleaded. "I'd really like to spend some time with you and get to know you better. And I know the team would say the same. Especially after you stood up to Sharpay."

I bit my lip and laughed. I looked up at him, my breath getting caught in my throat when I noticed him glance down at my lips. He looked back up at my eyes before smiling. I held my breath as he leaned in and pressed his lips gently to mine. It took me a second before I started kissing him back.

As our lips moved slowly in sync, Troy let go of my hands and wrapped his arms around my waist. I slowly slid my hands up his chest and wrapped my arms around his neck. I broke the kiss and leaned my forehead against his.

"My sister would be so jealous," I whispered.

He leaned back and let out a small laugh as he reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, his hand lingering on my cheek. He smirked down at me, slightly shaking his head.

"Let her be jealous of you for once."

[ggukiepie]

just a feeling

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: you're busy doing president-y things (jungkook's words, not yours) and your best friend's there to help you out like he always does

tags: bil!couple, college!au, bff!jk, athlete!jk, two idiots in love, some fluff, oc is student council president so we stan, pet names

warnings: cursing, some mentions of skipping meals but nothing serious

wc: 1.8k

a/n: yes another one shot for this couple !! this can be read as a stand alone but i have other one shots you can read which you can find in my masterlist

--

You’re standing on your toes to make sure the banner you’re holding isn’t crooked. It’s probably not the safest to be on a ladder while tiptoeing and add the fact that the person down below holding the ladder isn’t really paying attention.

“Tae,” you call out without looking down. You squint your eyes at the banner, turning your head from side to side. Maybe you should’ve placed it higher? But then it might not be that noticeable so high up—

“Hm?” he replies, but his voice seems far off. Finally, you look down to see Taehyung holding the ladder with one hand, and in the other he’s typing on his phone.

You roll your eyes. “You’re not even paying attention,” you say exasperatedly. You’ve been up since 7 AM, running around school to make sure the preparations for the job fair are going smoothly. It’s almost 12 in the afternoon now and you haven’t had a single bite to eat. You just want this day to end. “Taehyung!”

He snaps his head up, eyes suddenly wide at the array of decorations and banners that are hung up. By the surprised look on his face, you’re positive he hasn’t been paying attention at all since you started. “Sorry,” he breathes out. “One company just came in late—”

“But they were supposed to arrive two hours ago!”

Taehyung widens his eyes in alarm. He’s known you for two years and has been working with you for one, so he pretty much knows the signs of your oncoming outbursts. “It’s fine.” He starts speaking again before you start shouting. You’re not mad at him, never have been, but you’re stressed and tired and hungry and you haven’t sat down in five hours. “Someone just has to assist them to their booth but everyone’s busy right now—”

“Just go.” You wave him off. You do not want things to be delayed even further and if it meant sacrificing your safety on the ladder, then so be it.

“Got it,” he says as he brings his phone to his ear, walking away without even glancing back at you. You sigh and turn back to the decorations. Yeah, the right side is definitely off. You huff and stretch out your arm hoping to get a hold of the right corner. It’s too far so you lean to the side to reach it. The ladder starts shaking but you don’t pay it any mind. You just need to finish this so you could go to the auditorium to check the stage design then—

“Hey! ___!”

You turn your head towards the voice just in time as you feel the ladder slam against the wall it’s leaning on, shaking every bone in your body. You look down suddenly and see Jungkook, whose got two hands holding the ladder tightly.

“What the fuck, ___,” he breathes out. “Why isn’t anyone holding the ladder? This is dangerous.”

You haven’t noticed your heart’s been racing. You hardly even noticed you were about to fall, but the look on Jungkook’s face says otherwise. “Sorry,” you whisper. You try to calm your racing heartbeat. “I just—” You breathe out. “I just needed to—”

“Come down,” he says, voice so quiet that you’re immediately complying, legs climbing down the ladder and Jungkook’s hand on your waist to guide you. Once you’re back on the ground again you turn to face him.

“Sorry,” you say, voice firmer now. “I just needed to get this done and Taehyung was the one helping but he needed to help set up a booth and—”

“Hey, hey,” Jungkook says as holds your hand in his and squeezes your fingers. Instantly, it calms you down. “Let’s take it one step at a time, okay?”

You look into his eyes and nod, feeling at ease now that he’s here. Jungkook just has that effect on you, really. Plus you’ve known him since high school so he really knows how to ease your nerves. You clench your eyes shut and focus on the feel of his skin on yours, his thumb rubbing the outside of your palm, his big hands encasing your small ones. You’ve been working on this project for months now. You have a team and the rest of the student council to help you, sure, but all the ideas and planning came from you. So it’s been stressing you out. Good thing Jungkook’s been there to help you if needed, always giving you food and snacks and reminding you to take a break every once in a while. You’re sure you wouldn’t have survived if it weren’t for him.

“You okay now, ___? We can grab some lunch if you have the time,” Jungkook says quietly.

You open your eyes and smile at him sheepishly. He instantly glares at you (but it’s the cute kind, the one where he wants you to think he’s mad but he isn’t). A pout forms in his face and he lets go of your hands. You miss the warmth instantly.

“Let me guess, you haven’t eaten a single thing all day haven’t you?”

You nod your head and Jungkook groans, throwing his head back dramatically as if he’s been told he can’t play soccer anymore.

“You shouldn’t forget to eat, ___. Food is important,” he huffs. “And it makes you less grumpy.”

You roll your eyes at him and turn to walk back to the ladder again, but Jungkook grabs your hand to make you face him.

“How about this, I’ll hold the ladder while you finish that sign, then we go for lunch.”

A million different things suddenly enter your mind. You still need to check the booths, then the auditorium, and then the registration area. You open your mouth to protest but Jungkook raises both his hands to stop you.

“We’ll only eat for twenty minutes and then you can go back to doing your President-y things.”

You cross your arms in front of your chest and Jungkook smiles, knowing you’re about to agree.

You point a finger at him. “Twenty minutes only. And you’re buying me coffee, too.”

He puts his hand on his chest and looks shocked, as if you’ve said the most offensive thing to him. “Baby,” he starts, and you know he’s saying it as a joke but it still makes your heart flutter. Makes that little seed of hope in you grow a little bit more. But you know Jungkook’s just a natural flirt and that he calls you that from time to time as a joke.

(At least that’s what you keep telling yourself)

He’s smiling so widely now, teeth on display with his dimples fully showing. He’s smirking a bit, too, and you can’t lie to yourself and say he doesn’t look absolutely dreamy right now. You know that look oh too well because it’s the one he uses when he’s flirting. With other girls.

“I buy you coffee all the time,” he says. “Whether you ask for it or not.”

And you know that’s true. Jungkook knows your love for coffee—and your favorite order at Starbucks—as much as he knows his favorite soccer players. He buys you coffee before he picks you up from class. He even buys you coffee when he randomly decides to drop by the student council office, which is partly given as a bribe to use the printer in there for free instead of paying for the printing services in campus.

You try to push him away but he only catches your hand to bring you a bit closer to him. Your bodies aren’t touching but you’re close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him.

Oh, you’re playing a very dangerous game, Jeon Jungkook.

You try to calm the beating in your heart and hope you aren’t blushing. Instead, you roll your eyes at him. “Yeah, you do. Now let me get this finished so we can eat.”

Jungkook holds the ladder while you finish decorating the banner, and from time to time he’d give his comments about the placement. You’re grateful for the help and finish ten minutes later. You’re pouting at him to return the ladder (which he does because he can never say no to you when you’re pouting) and finally you’re both making your way to the cafeteria.

True to his word, Jungkook makes sure you don’t take too long to eat. But he also makes sure you’re eating enough as well. He’s usually chatty when you’re eating together but he’s pretty silent now as you munch on your food. You’re distracted anyway, fingers busy typing on your phone as you’re responding to all the messages you haven’t checked yet. Jungkook’s used to this, of course, so he’s watching some anime highlights on his phone like he always does when you’re busy with President-y things (his words, not yours).

After eating he’s walking you to the auditorium, large coffee in your hand and a cookie in the other since he insisted you need to eat some more. Once you’re by the entrance, Jungkook suddenly stands in front of you, shoulders straight and feet together. “Good luck, Madam President.” He salutes and you roll your eyes in return.

“You’re honestly such a fucking dork.”

He smiles that bunny smile you adore. “You love me anyway,” he says and you choose not to reply. “Anyway, I’ll get going to class now. See you later at practice?” he asks.

He means his soccer practice and you nod your head quickly. You watch his practices most of the time anyway, but you think he just wants you there because you always have snacks for him and also so he can show off his tricks to you. “Yeah, I’ll be there. Now go before you’re late!”

“See you later, cutie.”

Again, it’s one of those pet names he calls you as a joke. You glare at him. “Seriously, Jeon, what’s with all the nicknames?” You might just throw the cookie at him to make sure he doesn't see you blushing.

He shrugs but he’s got that boyish smile on his face. Finally, he starts walking away. You watch his back for a bit but he suddenly turns around, cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, “Because you look really cute today, cutie.”

You frown at yourself and look down at your outfit, eyeing the sweats and big shirt you’re wearing today for comfort. You’re pretty sure you’re sweating a lot and your hair’s a mess. You look up and shake your head to yourself while you make your way to the auditorium, wondering why in the world Jungkook would think you look cute today out of all days.

It doesn’t help slow down the beating in your heart, however, and you find yourself smiling the whole day.

[swcetnight]

It’s Definitely You || kth (m.) 1

synopsis:

Working as a barista in NYC has its perks, but when your ultimate dream of being on the Broadway stage tends to come crumbling down, the only thing that raises your spirits is the comfort of a complete stranger… who seems to have known you for far longer than you thought.

masterlist here

→ pairing: taehyung x barista!reader (also musical theatre performer cause I had to)

→ genre: fluff, angst, future smut | strangers(ish) to lovers… i won’t give the truth away... gonna have to read and find out for yourself ;))

-> warnings: self doubt, adorable plant names... there's really not many warnings for this chapter!

→ word count: 7,973

authors note:

alrighty everyone... here we go! (i’m so nervous) this is the first chapter of this series (which it took me 50 years to figure out whether I wanted this to be a series or a two shot... lets just say that it's gonna be a long one, so I think that a series is the best way to go)! this story is really near and dear to my heart, so 1. I really hope you enjoy it and 2. I hope all of you know how hard it was to write this into words... my goodness. now, make sure you look for clues throughout this series... there's a secret in here that won't be revealed for a while ;)) but if any of you have ideas, please be sure to send an ask while we wait to find out together! anyways, I hope you enjoy !!

authors thanks:

a HUGE thank you to @hantaev and @monvante for beta-reading and being so so supportive of me and this little (but not so little) story... y'all truly have no idea how helpful you've been and how thankful I am to be friends with both of you! forreal, y'all are the greatest and I'm sending you all my love!!

also, if you are enjoying this story, please don’t hesitate to send me an ask (on or off anon) and let me know your thoughts, feelings, theories, etc!! i would love to hear from all of you 🤍

If time-travel existed, you would be on the first time machine and head back to 2 years ago. A time when you had a free schedule and were able to go out on Friday nights. A time when you felt confident in yourself and were raring to pursue theatre. A time when you didn't have this job (cause apparently, theatre is impossible to get into) that forces you awake at 4 in the morning for the opening shift.

You can't say you don't love your Barista job because you do. Still, when your alarm wakes you from the beautiful dream of performing on the big stage, you have to use everything within yourself to crawl out of your sheet cocoon… and that is unacceptable.

What's even more unacceptable is the fact that your co-worker, Jimin, hasn't arrived at the Academia Cafe yet. You have about 30 minutes to prepare for the morning peak; brew coffees, set up the bakery items, clear the boards "coffee of the day," etc. The problem is, it takes up all of the 30 allotted minutes— and you can't start prepping early because Jimin has the keys to the cafe.

You’ve worked at the Academia Cafe for about a year now, taking a break from your endless theatre audition schedule— since that was getting you absolutely nowhere. No matter how badly you want it, nothing seems to work. No matter how many times you practice, it never seems to be good enough. Let’s just say, you took this job at the cafe because you were over the repetitive let downs.

… But here you are, with a “Jimin being late” let down.

[To: Jimin ☕️] hey, you almost here? times ticking, keys!

You stuff your phone into your winter coat pocket, the brown material catching snowflakes as they fall gently from the cloudy sky. You love this weather; it's always been your favorite. When you were little, you used to pretend to be a dragon; running all over your front yard and releasing heavy breaths that chilled in the air and spread like smoke. You don't enjoy the cold, but the entire feel of winter has you cozying up in a blanket with hot cocoa and a good book… nothing could beat that.

A buzz in your pocket catches your attention.

[From: Jimin ☕️] Hey! Look up.

Your eyes immediately lift to see Jimin smiling a few feet away, shuffling through the snow as he drags the keys out of his pocket. He's sporting a heavy blue coat that reaches down to his knees — making his short stature appear even smaller — topped with a matching blue beanie. Despite his tardiness today, you’ve always been fond of Jimin. He's like a ray of sunshine, beaming through the skyscrapers of the city and making everyone around him happy just by flashing a single smile. Honestly, you wish you could sneak some of that happiness from him and lock it somewhere safe... so you can save it for a time when you need it most.

"Your timing is impeccable." He laughs, gently placing the keys into the front door lock. "You texted me right as I was rounding the corner."

"I'm telling you, Jimin; we're always on the same wavelength."  Smirking, you make your way through the doors of the cafe, greeted by the warmth that surrounds you like your sheet cocoon did this morning, but accompanied by the smell of fresh coffee. "Except for the fact that you, my friend, are late, so now we only have twenty-eight minutes until opening."

Old, rustic book pages litter the cafe's dark walls, executing the dark academia theme flawlessly. You have to give the interior designers a hand, what with the black stools and high dark wood counters etched with different story pages. You wonder if anyone took the time to read the stories that covered the cafe; maybe the stories moved them in a personal way. Maybe there was a reason why they read them, a part of the butterfly effect of their life.

With a quick survey of the main room, you shuffle into the back to put your belongings away. "You would think it would be less busy on the streets because of the snow," Jimin calls, already working on the first batch of light roast coffee. "But unfortunately for me, that was not the case, and I nearly lost my life multiple times on the way here because of how slick it is."

A laugh emits from your lips, echoing in the backroom as you throw your apron over your head.

You begin with date labeling all of the pastry items, placing them accordingly onto the pastry cart; croissants, muffins, scones, etc. Then, you move onto organizing syrups and setting toppings along the bar where drinks are made. Bar is your personal favorite position-- since you're able to make the drinks… Plus, you're so busy that your shift goes by way faster. The sooner you're done, the sooner you get to go home and sleep.

“All set?” Jimin questions when you finish setting the steaming pitchers next to the espresso machine, tossing the rag he used to wipe down tables into the sanitizer bin. You give him a nod, taking a quick once over of the bar. “Alright,” he claps, “let's do this.”

This morning runs like every Friday morning, busy and fast. The sounds of coffee glasses clinking and the calling of customer names at the hand-off station echoes through the air.

Ahhhh, the scenery in coffee shops; the quiet hush over the room as soft jazz plays over the speakers. It’s soothing, all encompassing, and extremely helpful for motivation… You used to go to a local cafe for homework when you were still in school.

You take a breath, relaxing against the back counter as you overhear a conversation a group of regulars are having. It’s the usual small talk: the weather, families, sharing pictures of recent events. Coming up with questions of the day for customers becomes easier after knowing their stories, so you subconsciously listen in often.

Because of this, you almost don't notice the man waiting at the register, wholly delved into the neighboring conversation— only looking over when you hear your name called.

"Y/n?"

You turn your head, catching eyes with the stranger behind the counter who holds his credit card ready. The first thing you notice is that he's young, probably around your age, wearing a brown turtleneck and white slacks. His eyes are dark, standing above his perfectly sculpted nose and lips. His hair is dark as well, forehead drowning within the wavy bangs that fall over his eyebrows as he takes you in. To be completely honest, he's probably the most handsome man you've had the pleasure of seeing… is that weird? You don’t know him… maybe that is weird.

The second thing you notice is that he looks completely anxious, hands grasping the edge of the counter like there's a thousand-foot drop below him. Why is he looking straight at you while doing that? Maybe you should call Jimin to take ove-

“Is it really you?” He questions, taking you aback.

"I-" You clear your throat, walking forward to meet him at the register, "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

With an intake of breath, he releases the counter as he studies you. Was he… crying? You swear his eyes were not this bloodshot three seconds ago.

"You-" He pauses, taking another sharp breath and running a hand through his hair. If you thought he couldn't get more attractive, you were wrong. "Do you know me?"

Attractive? Yes. Psycho?...possibly.

You shake your head slightly, “I… I’m sorry. I don't-"

Wait… is he a regular? You swear you haven't seen him come into the cafe before. Shoot.. What if he is? The number one thing your boss has made perfectly clear: remember the regulars, so they come back and feel at home; recognized. Customer connection was the most important thing at the Academia Cafe… He's probably a regular.

“I’m so sorry, there're so many people that come to visit us and sometimes I forget the regulars!” You apologize. “That’s my fault… remind me of your name again?”

He's staring at you. Full-on staring, jaw slacked. Shifting uncomfortably in your keds, you eye beside you to see Jimin working away at a macchiato. You consider changing places, nearly walking over to him before the customer speaks again.

"It's- It's Taehyung."

You force a smile, nodding while he continues to stare at you. He seems a bit more hesitant, his eyes looking in different directions but ultimately falling back onto your own. Even if he tried, he couldn't hide the rosy color that spreads onto his cheeks. What was this guy's problem?

"Taehyung! Awesome, well, what can I get for you today?" You chirp, attempting to brighten up your increasing discomfort. He might have mistook you for someone else, you decide, jumping back into your customer service personality: kind and quick to the point.

Taehyung doesn't move, training his eyes on you. You've never had a man's undivided attention before, since boyfriends were never an option. When you were a teenager, you stayed home most of the time in your hometown, and the boys there were all just in it to take your pants off. You avoided them and never really caught their attention, so you can't help the uncomfortable blush that grows on your cheeks. It’s short lived though, your nerves dissolving as soon as you notice a single tear fall onto the front of his shirt.

Oh. Okay, he’s definitely crying.

"Sir..." You begin, leaning in closer to avoid drawing attention. "Is everything alright?"

"I…" The shake in his voice is evident as he puts his credit card back into his wallet, still refusing to break eye contact. “Excuse me." Without another word, he turns on his heel and rushes towards the exit, clocking a customer in the shoulder in his rush. He apologizes quickly, bowing to them before glancing behind to make eye contact with you once more.

You wish you could read minds, wondering what the hell is going through his brain… but you notice the tiniest gleam of a hopeful smile that hides on his lips.

And then he’s gone.

“I swear it was the strangest thing, Jimin.” You speak nervously, tugging at the strings of your apron and lifting it over your head. It had been busy all day, despite a quick thirty minute break when everyone had left and the cafe was suddenly a deserted island. You appreciated the busyness, it made your shift go by faster. Right now, all you wanted to do was go home, eat a fat bowl of icecream and distract yourself from the events of today with a movie. Thank God your shift was over.

“Maybe he thought you were someone else?” Jimin insists, taking a bite into the extra Blueberry Muffin you’d accidentally heated when you were distracted by the events that occurred earlier.

“Yeah? Well, I must be the spitting image because he was totally freaked out.”

“You never know, y/n. Or, maybe he just used that as an excuse to talk to you.” You could hear the smirk in his voice, throwing your rolled up apron at him harshly before you grab your belongings.

“Ha, ha, you’re hilarious. This guy looked like he had seen his ex… He was crying. I don’t think he was into me.”

“Maybe his eyes were watering from the cold wind?” He offers.

“Enough to cry actual tears?” You scoffed, “C’mon Jimin.”

He shrugs defensively, picking up his things so the two of you can head out a few minutes earlier than usual. Whenever the baristas have a chance to leave early, they take it. “If he comes back, then ask him: hey, dude, what’s your deal?”Jimin works his way through the cafe, throwing an excess chair upside down onto the table with the rest of them.

You hold your hand above your heart, which is still beating at a faster pace due to this discussion. Can hearts even beat this fast? This can’t be healthy… “Oh wow, you have such a way with words. That definitely won’t make him feel uncomfortable!”

Yes. Sarcasm coping mechanism.

“Y/n.” Jimin meets you at the door and puts his hands on your shoulders, making extra sure he has your attention. “Go home. Don’t think too much into it… He was probably high or something and mistook you for his ex that dumped him and now he’s moping through the city and getting into all sorts of trouble and he’ll forget that he even came here tomorrow morning. Okay?”

You nod slowly, exiting the cafe with Jimin on your tail. "Don't worry, y/n." Jimin adds, "He probably won't even come back." He locks the door and gives you one last thumbs up before heading in the opposite direction, calling out at the last second. “See you tomorrow!”

The forced smile on your face appears again (looks like this was a regular occurrence today), waving him goodbye.

Yeah… tomorrow.

Jimin was right. The handsome crying stranger was probably never coming back.

It has been a few weeks since you met him for the first time. Now, it feels like a distant memory. He hadn’t shown up to the cafe the day after the encounter, or the day after that, or the day after that, and eventually you’d come to the conclusion that he was probably never going to show his face again out of pure embarrassment. You can’t say you blame him. You’d be embarrassed too if you stared at and cried over a random stranger.

Still, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment... You'd kind of hoped you could figure out what his problem was, maybe ease his mind a little if you really did look like a past lover. You would make sure he knew that it wasn't you. What if he was avoiding the cafe because he literally thought you were someone else? Great… now you just feel bad.

"Y/n? Are you listening?" Jimin beckons over the phone.

"Huh? What?" You bounce back to reality, the soft comforter of your bed lying beneath you as you stare out the window. Thanks to your wonderful apartment search, you have a beautiful view of the city. Jimin had helped you find a place when you first moved here. The two of you had met when you visited to check out the first apartment options; he even took you out for a drink afterward to celebrate the first days' completion. Jimin had immediately clicked with you, as he does with everyone-- he was the kind of person to make friends insanely quickly. He must've been super popular in high school... unlike you.

"Y/n Y/l/n. I am giving you a chance to meet more people, and you're not even listening to me!" He cries, a light smack coming from the other end (probably from him slamming his hand on the table).

"Okay, okay-- I'm sorry. I'm listening now; what's up?"

With a deep sigh, he speaks again. "Party. My house. Tonight. It's not gonna be wild, don't worry... it's just a get-together with some of my friends, and you can have a few drinks if you would like to."

Gnawing at your bottom lip, you look over towards the clock on your nightstand. 5:00. "I don't know..." You begin, the bed shifting as you raise into a seated position. "I have to work tomorrow morn-"

"Already got your shift covered." He deadpans.

"What??"

"I already got your shift covered, so you have no excuse."

This sly guy.

"Who covered it?" You question, setting the audio to speaker-phone as you rummage through old text messages you haven't gone through (to prep for your "thank you for covering my shift" text message).

“Jin.” Noted.

“So…” Jimin continues, “are you coming?”

You can't even remember the last time you met new people, let alone gone to a party. Parties weren't necessarily your thing, especially with your busy schedule of workdays and auditions-- you just never had the time. You should be excited, right?

Well, you aren't.

"Jimin, I don't know… I'm not really a huge fan of parties." You mumble over the phone, picking at the lone string that popped out of its stitch on your comforter.

"Y/n, it's a small get-together, and it's not gonna be that kind of party. Believe me; it'll be really chill. It's just me, you, a few other coworkers, and some friends from my journalism class."

You chew at your bottom lip, looking over at your closet to see a single green cocktail dress that you hadn't worn in years. The memory of the dress was a good one… you had just finished up curtain call for The Addams Family and wore that dress to the after-party. It's a short sleeve, layered green dress that flows just over your knees, the same color sash tying the waist in a floppy bow. You blush at the memory of winning best dressed.

A pause, “Okay.” You conclude. “I’ll go.”

Jimin was honest about how chill it would be; soft music plays in the background as the group sits around the table playing cards. A basketball game is playing on the TV, desperate for attention as a player scores a 3-pointer, but no one is watching. Shuffling of cards is the only sound heard in the room as the game continues.

The atmosphere is calm… quiet…

“BULLSHIT.”

The immediate crumble of everyone’s mood causes the loud “HELL YEAH” that makes you jump in your seat.

"And that is how it's done, Ladies and Gentlemen." Jungkook (your fellow coworker) claps, his smile brighter than the sunset that seeps through the curtains on the opposite side of the room.

"And that's on cheating!" Jimin picks up the cards in the center of the table, gathering them clumsily back into a pile.

"It's called having skill," Jungkook replies, holding his hands up as he smirks at his opponents.

"No, it's called luck." Yoongi finalizes as he puts his hand of cards down on the table with a roll of his eyes. You haven’t met Yoongi before until tonight. He’s one of Jimin's friends from Journalism Class.

When you arrived, you decided to sit out of this round and learn to play before joining the game-- knowing you; you would've been crushed within the first minutes of playing. Card games weren’t exactly a skill of yours— board games on the other hand were where it’s at! That, and charades. For the sake of the party, a card game didn’t sound too bad this time around— so you poke at Jimin to give you the hand as he serves cards for everyone else.

“Wait, wait, wait—“ Jimin pauses, his hand disappearing beneath the table to grab his phone. “Hello?”

“I’m not Irish, so does luck really count?” Jungkook questions in a hushed whisper, nudging Yoongi in the side.

“Oh hey...yeah... it’s apartment 205.” Jimin continues.

“You’re so funny, Jk. Maybe you’ll actually become successful if you choose stand-up comedy rather than becoming a musician.” Yoongi replies nonchalantly, his cat-like eyes staring at the abandoned pile of cards before he seems to come to the decision to shuffle them himself. He gives you a small smile when you hold your hand out to signal that you’re joining in this round.

“Mhm, you can just walk on in! Doors unlocked… okay.. alright, see ya in a minute.” When Jimin's phone is down, Yoongi passes a hand of cards to him.

“Think you can beat me, Y/n?” Jungkook asks,”Since apparently these four can’t?” He motions to Yoongi and Jimin, glancing at the other two players of the game: Hoseok (Jimins other classmate) and his girlfriend, Faith.

“I think I can.” You say, smirking at the determined expression on Jungkooks face. Even if you weren’t very fond of card games, there was one thing you were even less fond of: losing.

“Mmm, might want to rethink that, but okay.” Jungkook replies. The two of you are death staring when the sound of the front door creaking open catches the attention of everyone else at the table. Jimin shoots out of his chair.

“Taehyung!”

You freeze.

"You-" He pauses, taking another sharp breath and running a hand through his hair. If you thought he couldn't get more attractive, you were wrong. "Do you know me?"

Attractive? Yes. Psycho?... possibly.

“I’m so sorry, there're so many people that come to visit us and sometimes I forget the regulars!” You apologize. “That’s my fault… remind me of your name again?”

"It's- It's-."

“Taehyung, you just missed me creaming everyone in bullshit.” Jungkook boasts. Your eyes are glued to the side of Jungkook's head, not daring to make eye contact with the source of your nerves the past few weeks.

“Oh did I?” The familiar, deep voice utters.

Okay.. you can’t help but look…

Holy—it’s actually him.

Immediate regret sinks into your soul when you see him. God, he’s even handsomer than you remember. A white woolen sweater hangs over a pair of his black pants, matched with white sneakers and accenting the head of dark wavy hair you’d been thinking about since you last saw him.

“Yep!” Jungkook continues. “And now Y/n’s about to get shitfaced too.”

The moment his eyes swiftly glance your way is the moment you crumble and turn your head back to Jungkook. You had hoped to make a sly remark, something along the lines of “in your dreams,” but you’re caught breathless from the tension in the room. The tension only the two of you are aware of. He must be tense too, right?

“I wouldn’t underestimate her.” You hear out of Taehyung's mouth, stealing a look at his face once more. He’s smirking at Jungkook, hanging his coat on the hook beside yours, oblivious of the way you’re basically dissecting his every move.

“Have you met Y/n?” Jimin questions, provoking Taehyung's eyes to fall back onto yours. This time, you don’t look away.

He doesn’t answer right away, making you more nervous than you should be— the silence deafening as you make to explain, “We-“

“No.” He states plainly, cutting you off. An innocent smile plays on his lips as he looks at Jimin and places his messenger bag beside the door.

No? Uhhh, was he not the guy who pretended to know who you were and cried in front of you without even explaining why? Nope, it’s definitely him.

“I’m Taehyung.” He calls in your direction, offering you a boxy smile and a small nod, “Don’t let Jungkook fool you. A girl pinched him when we were in grade school. He barely lasted five seconds before running away screaming.” Taehyung moved to the table, sitting beside the man he just brutally embarrassed.

“That girl was terrifying. She was way taller than all the other sixth graders. It was an unfair situation.” Jungkook protested, sinking in his chair as he shuffled the cards he held in his hand.

You couldn’t help but stare dumbly at Taehyung. Was he embarrassed of his outburst at the cafe that he just hopes you forgot about him? You guess you didn’t exactly meet each other, other than a few words exchanged before he disappeared out the door. He probably doesn’t want his friends to know about what happened. Or did he not recognize you and completely forgot about the whole ordeal?

Okay, it’s fine… totally fine.

“I’ll have to keep that in mind,” you laugh, “no more coming in late, Jk. Or I’ll have to pinch you.”

Jungkook merely rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his beer. You see the crinkle in Taehyung's eyes as he laughs, the boxy smile taking root on his face again… a smile you’ve begun to enjoy the look of.

Hey. Snap out of it. This guy is so confusing. That’s a red card.

You straighten up in your seat, catching Jimin's attention when you move towards the kitchen, motioning with your hand to signal that you’re getting another drink. You have a feeling you’re gonna need some more alcohol to get through the evening.

Jimins place is clean, every knick knack placed neatly where it belongs; accompanied by the smell of potted plants that he keeps by his windows. Little name tags are attached to the plant stems: Flo, Sprout, Bob. He names his plants. Sweet.

He, like you, has a great view of the city too, a mid-size window perched above his breakfast nook where a small potted plant (quotabley named “bean”) grows. The city is bustling below as you reach for a beer, shrugging off the fact that you hate beer, but at least the taste will distract you from Tae-

“Hey.” You hear a soft voice call from the kitchen archway. When you turn you nearly drop the bottle out of your hand. Taehyung gives you a soft smile.

“Hey! Uh.. did you want a beer, or are you a wine guy?” You question, cringing at how much higher your voice sounds at his close proximity.

“I— Sorry, neither.” He starts, shoving his hands into his pockets as he makes his way around the island. “I uh- I just wanted to talk to you about something.”

You nod slightly, “Yeah of course… what’s up?”

“Um,” he’s nervous, you notice. “I just wanted to apologize about the whole thing at the cafe a few weeks ago.. I was— not in the right state of mind.” He meets your eyes hesitantly, “you just look like someone I know from a long time ago and it kind of.. took me by surprise, I guess.”

Jimin was right. You offer him a smile, shaking your head in disbelief, “You know what, I truly thought that was the reason… It’s totally fine. I’m not who you think I am, by the way.”

A flicker of something crosses his features at your comment, something you can’t quite pick up, but he changes it quickly to a smirk. “Obviously.” He laughs, “I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable.. I’m not weird, I swear.”

“Mmm, that’s what they all say.” You tease.

He laughs, a soft sound that you want to hear over and over again. “You’ve got me there.” He takes a pause, placing his hands on the island countertop. “Let’s start over? If that’s okay? I didn’t want to mention it when I came in because I wanted us to have a fresh start.”

You push down the questioning thought of who this woman he mistook you for was, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. “That’s totally okay.. clean slate?”

“Clean slate.” He finalizes.

“Straightforward,” You add, “I like it.”

He gives you a warm smile, the same edge in the way he looks at you dances in his eyes before he breaks it off, sliding the bottle of beer out of your own hand. “Actually, I think I will have a beer. You don’t seem like a beer drinker, anyway.” He turns quickly, smirking at you before striding out of the room. “Thanks, Y/n!”

Protestations die on your lips as he disappears from the room, your beer along with him. How rude. You can’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you turn back to the cupboard, skipping the beer and pouring yourself a second glass of wine. You weren’t a beer drinker, after all.

Although you weren’t one for parties, you couldn’t help but admit the fact that you were having a good time. No, a great time. All of you are seated in Jimins living room; a plate of chips sits on the coffee table, which was the hot spot of the night (considering there’s hardly any remaining). Others in the group still have a glass of alcohol in their hands, the tipsiness evident by the slurring of their words. You had stopped yourself after half of your second glass, playing it safe since you still have to walk home after the party. You weren’t much of a drinker anyway-- your family history being the root of this decision.

It isn’t the games that made the night this enjoyable, or the food, or the movie that is currently playing over Jimin's television (which, by the way, is Moulin Rouge, because half of the room enjoys musicals, and the other half enjoys regular movies. So, you decided to settle on a movie musical). None of that matters, except the fact that you’ve never felt this carefree in a long time.

For one night, you can put aside your cafe job, auditions, and never-ending to-do lists and just have fun. Real fun. Even in the audition rooms, it has never been fun for you. It’s been nerve-wracking to a fault and always ends with a “thank you for taking the time, but we’ve decided not to accept you this time around,” or a callback, which ultimately concludes with the same grueling fate.

But this is different.

This is a group of people who genuinely want to spend time with you and get to know you… with no “not this time’s” or open-ended questions.

Especially with Taehyung. You’re surprised at how quickly the two of you seemed to hit it off, despite the awkward introduction. Now, it feels like he’s known you for years… in the best way. You’re comfortable talking to him, chatting together during the movie about the plot points or songs you find specifically endearing. You had initially planned to sit next to Jimin… but ended up next to Taehyung on the couch.

It just happened.

He enjoys musicals as well, you learn. Maybe not as much as you do, but at least he doesn’t despise them. He’s one of Jimin’s friends from their shared art class. He loves the color brown. His favorite food is watermelon. He does illustrations for Jimins journalism projects (which, in your opinion, are exceptional from the photos he showed you during the movie while the others were engulfed in the film). He wishes to pursue traveling journalism, where he draws what he sees rather than taking pictures. His whole aura is warm… like a heated blanket that envelopes you whole when you feel him shift beside you on the sofa. A small reminder that he’s still there.

Okay, you’re liking his presence way too much.

He finds romance movies corny but a guilty pleasure nonetheless. This, the reason why he agreed to watch Moulin Rouge despite the cheesiness in the beginning. In the end, it was anything but cheesy.

"Well, that was stupid." Jungkook scoffs, slamming the remote onto the neighboring loveseats' armrest. The once loud room filled with music is now quiet from the after-effects of the movie.

“I told you it was sad!” Jimin exclaims. The two of you had seen this movie before in theatres… and this was nothing compared to how the ending hit the first time. “Y/N was nearly choking. She was crying so hard when we saw it.”

An immediate blush rises onto your cheeks as you shake your head in defiance, trying to hide the tears that had been stinging your eyes for the last thirty minutes. “Who wouldn’t cry at that??”

“Taehyung probably didn’t. He never cries.” Hoseok deadpans. Ha. You can’t help but remember the tear that ran down his face in the cafe… He never cries?

With a quick look over your shoulder, you find that Taehyung is no longer seated on the couch. When did he get up? You attempt to shrug off your curiosity, pivoting back towards the chip table where only sad little crumbs remain. You were worrying way too much over a man you quite literally just met tonight… even if it felt like you’ve known him for much longer.

Taehyung eventually reappeared, stating that he had to use the bathroom— you ignored the fact that it took him a solid 30 minutes to get back to the party. It wasn’t your place to ask any questions, especially since he lifted a smile onto his face the second he reentered the room. See, y/n… nothing to worry about.

It wasn’t long before you insisted you head home, knowing that you’d curse yourself in the morning if you stayed out past the sunrise. If you did, you’d sleep through tomorrow, and that would be awful. You’ve done this a few times… and every time, you felt like you had wasted an entire year of your life.

You move to grab your purse and jacket, which are hanging comfortably on the hook beside the front door. With a small smile, you bid everyone goodnight— smiling as they resume a card game around the table at one o’clock in the morning. It’s nice to know that the group of you hit it off… now; you can look forward to plenty of get-togethers in the future.

Your mind is bustling with all kinds of ideas: picnics in central park, late-night broadway shows, hangouts at the caf-

“Y/n!” The soft calling of Taehyung's voice causes you to halt near the exit, turning on your heel to see him jogging towards you. He had haphazardly thrown his jacket over him since it’s still being tugged onto his body as he runs. His hair becomes even more chaotic in his haste… Why do you want to run your hands through it?

“Hey!” You squeak, interrupting your thoughts before they trudged down a guilty road. “What are you doing? Weren’t you going to play another round?”

He gives you a smirk, catching his breath as he holds out your house keys. “You forgot these! You were really moving fast… sick of us already?”

“Wh— oh my god, thank you!” With a quick swipe of your hand, you’re stuffing your keys into your pocket with a grateful smile. “Also, hardly.”

You admire the way his eyes light up at your confession. “Well.. since you don’t want to leave us so quickly.. how about I walk you home?” He seems almost hesitant asking, but you can’t help but applaud him for actually taking the initiative to inquire.

You shake your head, pulling the strap of your purse farther up your shoulder. “You don’t have t-“

“I want to!” He cuts you off quickly, catching you by surprise as he moves past you to open the door. He glances back, taking in your reluctant expression, “It’s not safe this time of night Y/n�� You shouldn’t be alone.“

You know he didn't mean anything by that statement… But the idea of someone genuinely caring and not wanting you to be alone makes your heart swell. Jimin cares about your safety of course, but this feels… Different.

This is the reason why you allow him to walk you home.

The snow crunches beneath your feet, like a symphony that beckons you home. You’ve been feeling exhaustion seeping into your bones for the last ten minutes, but Taehyung's occasional brush of his arm as he walks beside you keeps you wide awake. He doesn’t think to apologize for accidentally touching you, but you blame it on the time of night. Delusion.

“How long have you lived in New York?” You question, wrapping your coat tighter around you to kick out the nipping air.

“About a year now,” He responds, shuffling his feet, “though it feels like way longer. You?”

“Three years.”

Taehyung turns his head towards you, eyes wide. “Wow, way to one up me.” With a teasing smile he continues, “You must know this city like the back of your hand.”

The truth is… you don’t. You came here for the sole purpose of making it on Broadway... you never really took the time to focus on anything else. Part of you wishes you had learned more, craved more, wanted more with your life—then you wouldn’t be so miserable when the one thing you do want doesn’t work out. “Yeah… kind of.”

If he hears the somber tone of your voice, he ignores it, turning against the wind as he walks backwards down the sidewalk. “It’s overrated in my opinion.”

You raise your head at this, “Why is that?”

“Everyone here has dreams… and those dreams get crushed more often than not.” He shrugs, “No one cares if you want to succeed, only if you already have.”

You stare at him for a moment, awestruck by the weight of his words. “But,” he adds, turning back towards the wind, “the ones who never give up and continue to chase that dream can become successful. Despite all of the no’s they might face, they always hold on till they hear a yes. That sounds like true success to me.”

Turning your head, you stare at the side of his face— admiring the way his hair tosses back a bit against the harsh winter winds. His words hit you way deeper than he probably realized, sinking into your chest with an overwhelming sense of accomplishment. You’ve been contemplating recently on whether or not to give up on your dream… that maybe it just wasn’t going to work out for you. You have been trying for so long, and have repeatedly been let down. There was no way Taehyung could have known, which is why his words hit you as hard as they did. Despite the hardships, you’ve been here for three years and you’ve never given up or stopped trying to chase your dream.

That was an achievement, right?

“To be honest… I've heard a lot of no’s in my three years of being here.” You speak softly, tucking a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. “Sometimes it feels like there will never be a yes… but here I am. At least I'm still working— at a coffee shop, not on the stage.”

“It’s admirable that you keep going.” Taehyung glances at you over his shoulder. “It makes you different from a lot of people who have left the city when they faced failure. It’s something to be proud of. Plus, coffee shop or big stage, you’re in New York City and pursuing your gift. It’s special.”

When your eyes meet, you smile at him, feeling a sense of victory the longer you hold his gaze.

“Don’t give up, Y/n. No matter what.” He speaks genuinely, leaning towards you to nudge you gently on your shoulder. You can’t help but laugh at his playfulness, giving him a nudge in return before your eyes downcast to your winter boots. The snow on the ground is fresh, powdery and sticking to the toes of your shoes. “Plus,” He adds, sucking in the chilly air, “you've got what others don’t have…”

This time when you meet his eye he has a serious expression, making sure he has your full attention as you round the corner towards your apartment building. His gaze is genuine, captivating… and a part of you hopes that the close proximity of your apartment wouldn’t cut this moment short. Finally, he speaks.

“You have passion.”

Taehyung's words weigh on you for the rest of your night. It started off as something simple, looking up audition songs for an upcoming off-broadway show your agent was telling you about. Then, you went to learning it. After that, putting on makeup. And finally, completely forgetting about your sleep schedule and filming an entire audition tape in your room at 2 in the morning (and you were belting… your poor neighbors). It wasn’t until four that you finally turned in for the night, not bothering to take off your makeup or get changed-- simply falling onto your pillow and blacking out the moment you hit it. You were definitely sleeping the next day away… but at that moment, you didn’t mind. Having a day off from your busy schedule wouldn’t be so bad.

“I sent in an audition tape two nights ago.” You speak confidently, wiping down the back counter that’s littered with coffee grounds. They stick to the rag like glue, tiny dots scattered along its white surface. If it weren’t for your apron,

and your expertly rolled up white turtleneck sweater, you would look alot like this rag right now.

“Did you?” Jimin questions from the bar, sleeving the cup before placing it on the handoff counter.

“Christopher! Medium cappuccino!” He calls, multitasking while he cranes his neck to still hear you.

“I did. I feel really good about this one..” You add, meeting him beside the bar as he lifts the pitcher up and down to create the latte-art of a flower in the center of the mug. You have tried sooooo many times to make latte art… and every time it ended up looking like a glob. A big, distorted snowball. Jimin was the master of latte art, always finishing it off beautifully with a whip of his wrist. The foam atop telling a story. “It was so late-- I was totally out of it… and yet I actually enjoyed myself while filming it. I just imagined being there.. In center stage.”

“I’m happy for you, Y/n!” He smiles, turning to place the hot mug next to the cappuccino.

“Caleb! Medium caramel latte!”

He was only half listening to you. The cafe was bustling, so it truly wasn’t Jimin's fault that he was sidetracked— but nothing could hold back the small smile that played at the edge of your lips. You had actually enjoyed singing for the first time in a while.. all because of Taehyung's Academy Award winning pep talk. Who knew that all you needed was for someone to tell you like it is. With a minuscule smile, you turn back towards the counter and lift the latte you’d whipped up this morning to your lips. Your distorted snowball is fully on display at the top.

Despite the busyness, the front register is deserted, giving you time to think for a moment about the pep talk... or rather, the person who gave you it.

“I think Taehyung likes you.” Jimin deadpans.

Uhhh… You nearly spit out your snowball at that— clearing your throat as you set it down slowly onto the wooden countertop. He speaks as if this is a natural conversation starter… it’s not.

“I’m sorry?” You croak.

“Taehyung.” He repeats, turning his head in your direction with a knowing smirk. “I think he likes you.”

You give him a scoff of disbelief, watching as yet another group of regulars enter through the door. “That’s not true, he just doesn’t know me… so he made an effort to talk to me.” If you weren’t studying the group, you would've seen Jimin giving you a scrutinized look.

So, now you have his attention.

“Y/n. It’s so obvious… He spent the entire night talking to you, he left moments after you did to give you your keys and he never came back. If that isn’t someone who’s interested, I don’t know what is.” Jimin is an expert at multitasking, finishing off two drinks at the same time and calling them out.

“Well, Jimin, when people don’t know each other, they get to know each other. It’s this thing called talking and becoming friends.” The sentence hangs in the air as the doorbell chimes, signaling that yet another customer has entered the cafe and into the swarm of regulars, but the two of you disregard the sound and continue on through your bickering.

“I’m just saying, Taehyung doesn’t usually talk to girls.” Jimin adds, wiping his hands off on the white rag seated beneath his espresso machine. “Even if they wanted his attention, he didn’t give it to them. I mean— he’s nice to girls, don’t get me wrong.. but he’s never talked to them like he did with you on game night. I don’t think he’s dated anyone since he got here.”

“He’s career driven.” You say quickly.

If you thought his smirk couldn’t get any wider, you were wrong. “Yeah, girls don’t know that about him— meaning he told you, and not other girls.” Jimin deadpans.

You stare blankly at him. There’s no way. No way that a guy as attractive as Taehyung would even think about looking at you like that. There’s just no way. You’ve never had a boyfriend... or even a guy friend, until Jimin. Eventually, you’d accepted the fact that maybe you just weren’t that interesting. Maybe you weren’t pretty enough. Maybe you couldn’t flirt…. okay, you definitely couldn’t flirt— but that’s besides the point.

“He’s not interested in me.” You conclude.

“He is.” Jimin counters.

“He’s not.”

“He so is.”

“He’s so not.”

“Y/n. I swear to you. He’s interested and you need to shoot your shot.” He whisper-screams, throwing the rag in his hand onto the bar.

“Taehyung is not-“

A clearing of someone’s throat from beyond the register cuts your argument short, nearly making you lose your balance when you see who the source was.

You’re fairly certain you’ve turned pale.

Taehyung stands in front of you, eyeing between the two of you with an awkward expression. God, how long has he been standing there? “I figured I should step in before the two of you start fist fighting.”

“Hey!” The shrill of your voice causes you to wince.

“Hey.” He says with a smile, folding his arms in front of him and raising his eyes to the menu above your head. You can’t help the glare you send towards Jimin, who's notably holding back his laughter as he moves to the blender, the station farthest from the register. Ridiculous.

“What can we get for you?” You ask routinely, trying not to make it obvious that you were just talking about him… and praying that he wasn’t there to hear what the two of you were talking about.

“Hmm…” He looks especially good today, wearing a brown, long coat and a brown plaid scarf around his neck. He wasn’t kidding when he said his favorite color was brown, that’s for sure. It suits him. His hair is wavy, flowing to a point just under his eyebrows with a split off center, giving you the tiniest glimpse of his forehead. “How about an americano with hazelnut, and some cream?”

“We can do that for ya!” You have to force yourself to stop looking at him, pressing the buttons to ring up his order before you forget. You nearly overlook ringing up the hazelnut syrup. Why were you so dazed? He’s already placed his credit card into the chip reader, but your foggy brain asks anyway. “Anything else?”

“Yes, actually.” He speaks as you move towards the bar beside the register. Grabbing an empty pitcher, you pour the milk inside and reach for the steamer. He drops a dollar into the tip jar, not giving you enough time to thank him for the unnecessary effort before he speaks again. “Are you free later?”

NEXT CHAPTER

enjoying this story? please be sure to like and reblog!! It would really help me out, and i would love to hear your thoughts and feelings regarding this work 🥺🤍 thank you for taking the time to read!!

taglist: @monvante @moonchild1 @strawverryxmilktae If you would like to be added to the tag list, please send in an ask!! 🤍

[nevermore-the-kitsune]

Pokemon Teams for Fictional Characters pt. 2

Damian Wayne

(Also, I'm not including move sets because in my headcannon Pokemon do remember all their old moves. But humans choose to only use four)

For this AU I'm having the Wayne's own the Gotham City Gym, which specializes in Dark types. Most of the cannon events still happened. Just with a few tweaks here and there. (Dick's 20, Jason's 16, Cass is 15 Tim's 15 but younger than Cass and Damian's 13 because I love AUs where there closer in age).

Anyway here we go!

First things first in the Pokemon Universe his alias wouldn't be Robin since they don't exist. Instead I think it would be Rookidee, since thats the closest Pokemon to a Robin.

His Partner Pokemon and ace would be a Gligar

Name: Goliath

Gender: Male

Why: Gligar screams Goliath (his Batdragon) plus the coloring of his evolutions matches with Dami's Robin and Batman outfits

Story: He found Goliath while climbing a mountain for his training. At the time he was four and Goliath was a hatching. Damian ended up giving him some food, seeing that the hatching was hungry.

Grateful, the Gligar followed him hoping to return the favor.

When Damian's hand got broken on that same trip, Goliath was the one to help him finish his mission and get home safely.

Talia was impressed that Damian could tame a wild Pokemon without catching it, so she allowed him to keep him as his first Pokemon.

-----

Next he would have a Meowth

Name: Alfred

Gender: Female

Why: This one has to do with its evolution. Persian are said to only be loyal to trainers it likes and that it takes a lot to get them to like you. Their also said to be prissy and uptight. This reminded me of Damian. How it took forever for him to trust his brothers and his own snobby attitude. Thus I think it fits.

Story: After coming to live with his father Damian didn't know how to act. He saw his "brothers" and father treating their Pokemon so different than how the League did. They all trained hard. But, there was something eles: warm praise for a job well done, asking for insight on a case (they had taught their bipedal pokemon sighn language) and comfort on a bad day. His father and brothers treated their Pokemon like... people

In the League Pokemon where the lowest soldier, lower than the slaves or concubines. They trained, ate then they had to and got in their ball.

He had been a little more lenient in his training with Goliath. When asked he said that he was still a baby and he had to take things slow in this stage or he might develop too much muscle mass and be unable to fly.

He had kept him out of his ball with the excuse of developing muscle mass at a proper pace.

He liked Goliath's company. The Gligar was a good companion. But on the same level as another person?

He had expressed these thoughts to Pennyworth, the only person in the house to give him a straight answer when he needed it.

Pennyworth had explained to him that some people love to hold power over others and that Pokemon where an easy target, since they couldn't communicate their emotions as clearly as people could.

"Think of Mistress Cain. She sometimes cannot communicate with words, but we know that she's intelligent. But some people see her as less than intelligent and treat her as such because of the power it gives them."

Two weeks later Damian would come across a group of teenagers attempting to shave a Meowth. The Pokemon was little more than skin and bone and crying out on pain. So, Damian broke their fingers and shaved part of their heads for good measure.

He kept the Meowth and named her after the man who taught him about the abuse of power.

---

Next, a Poochyena

Name: Titus

Gender: Male

Why: These Pokemon and their evolution are ruthless with their pray, and only obey trainers with external skill.

Story: Raven gave Damian Titus as a gift. She said that she rescued him from an underground fighting ring (where the battles are to the death). He was still to young to battle so he didn't need much rehabilitation. The other Pokemon there though...

---

Now we have a Type Null

Name: Heretic

Gender: ???

Why: This Pokemon was created in lab, and artificial designed for the purpose of fighting, just like Damian. True I could have given him Mewtwo, but that cat seems to fit Kon more.

Story: Damian's mother had spent years creating Type: Null with the purpose of being able to kill any target. As a last test she wanted to see which of her creations was suppirrior. So she sent the Type Null out to (try and) kill her son.

Damian, with the rest of his team, beat the Pokemon but couldn't kill it. He had long since vowed to wash the blood from his hands. Instead he offered his hand to it and asked it to join him.

---

Here we have the hardest to explain... Mimikyu

Name: Habibi (I hope I spelled that right)

Gender: Female

Why: Damian is complex, he wants to be accepted and loved just like Mimikyu but dosent know how. Both try to mimic others in order to get that love, Damian his father and Mimikyu Pikachu. So I see this as Damian's spirit Pokemon in a way.

Story: He didn't know why it was so hard to fit in. Gods know he tried. But... little things confused him. Like how eveyone could understand each other without words or singhing. He had no problems with that on a battlefield, but in day to day life; it felt like he was on a separate server.

Like how Todd knew at breakfast with just a look that Drake was in a bad mood and how to help. Or how Grayson could audomadicly tell what kind of day at school the rest of them had withen a few minutes. Hell even Drake could tell what grunts ment what from father! Which ment good job, Which ment I'm glade your okay, or frustration either at them or at a case (Cass didn't surprise him, she had to learn how to communicate without words and watch body language and micro expressions).

School was no better; sometimes it was to load or bright othertimes, when everyone was doing a test, it felt to quiet. But, to much or to little, Damian was always aware of every movement, every sound. It was like the very instincts that saved his life every night where turned against him.

He turned to his nearly forgotten childhood habits to distract himself from everything around him. That only led to more whisper shouting and what even he could tell where displeased glares with a grunt of "fucking tapping" or a snap of "stop!" He knew it was disrupting but it was all be could do to drown out the noise or silence.

On one particularly bad day at school; apparently during one of their tests one of his classmates had had enough of Damian's tapping and decided to make a scene.

There was some yelling from the kid. A few cries in agreement. Before the teacher had gotten hem to settle down. He had demanded that Damian look him in the eye and when he finally did told him to stop with the tapping or else he would be sent to the office, Gym Leaders son or not.

He was the last to finish that test where he normally finished first. The silence had been to load!!

After that clusterfuck Damian finally headed home. He had texted Grayson saying that he was meeting a friend somewhere to work on a project and to not pick him up. In truth he didn't want his brother reading what kind of day he had had. He needed some time to himself.

That was how he found himself in a nearby park. It was filled with plenty of sounds that didn't suffocate him and the fall leaves where soothing to his eyes. Damian had Titus out of his ball as company, knowing that the pup loved park walks.

They had been walking for an hour when they came across a box set off just on the edge of the trail. "Free to Good Homes" was written on the side in black sharpie.

No sound was coming from inside, so he assumed that the had all been taken. Until Titus went closer sniffing at the seemingly empty box.

"Pooch Pooch"

"Hmmm... what is is it boy?" He asked as he walked closer to his Pokemon and the Box. Damian hoped he was wrong. It was cruel to leave a baby Pokemon all alone, especially since the weather was getting colder by the day.

Inside the box was in fact a lone Pokemon. At first glance it looked like a Pikachu. But something was off. It looked more like a doll than a living creature. If it wasn't for the small chirps it let out and slight way that it was shivering from the cold Damian would have written it off as a toy. No wonder it got left behind...

Damian reached down and picked up the mystery Pokemon as gently as he could.

"Come on beloved, lets go home."

He tucked the Pokemon in his jacket to warm it up before reaching for his phone to call Grayson for a ride home.

That night Damian locked himself away, even skipped patrol, and spent a sleepless night learning everything he could about his newest Pokemon.

---

That was inspired by this comic

---

Finaly, for his last spot Eevee!!

Name: Omni

Gender: Female

Why: I'm going to have all the Batfam members have an Eeveelution. This branch and the Batfam are both growing consistently. We all have our favorites but we love them all the same. So I think it fits.

Story: Everyone in the family had an Eevee or one of its evolutions. Damian's Father said that Eevee was the Wayne family symbol, it was potential, the ability to become whatever you wanted.

Though it surprised Damian that the Wayne symbol wasn't a Noibat or Noivern (Batman's ace) at first he eventually understood the logic in choosing such a Pokemon to represent the family name. That only made things harder for him being the only one not having one. Did they not truly see him as family?

On the one year anniversary of Damian arriving at The Mannor, his family through a small party. Pennyworth made his favorite foods, The Mannor was decorated in tacky streamers (Graysons' idea) and they watched some of Damian's favorite fims, their Pokemon curled up with them. His father had offered to take the day off from the gym. Until Todd suggested that Damian take on the challengers.

The Gotham gym was part of his heritage. Damian had been training for the day that he could finally help weed out the weak challengers just like his siblings sometimes did (think the battles you do before challenging a gym leader in the games).

On that day, if the challengers agreed to it, their final battle wasn't with Bruce Wayne the Dark Knight but instead his son. Most accepted thinking that it would be an easy win, that they had lucked out in not having to battle one of the stongest Gym Leaders in the League and could still get the Shadow Badge.

Those poor fools.

Damian was only allowed to use Alfred, Titus and Habibi since he used Goliath and Heretic primarily as Rookidee.

Damian fought seven trainers that day in 3v3 fights. Only two of them got the badge.

With the day overwith and the night rising, so did Gothams' protecters.

The night ended with exhausted body's and adrenaline crashes. Damian was ready to slip into a mini coma from the day he had but before he could head upstairs to The Mannor...

"Not so fast baby bat." Graysons' voice called out to him. "We got one more surprise for you."

Damian raised his eyebrow at that. What else could they do? His father came back from the locker rooms where he had been desuiting, it always took him the longest because of his "old man bones" as Todd said.

"Son," his father said "its Wayne tradition to get your first Pokemon when you turn ten years old. I missed that with you." He paused, eyes briefly shifting to the floor before they snapped back on Damian's face. "Luckily there's one tradition we didn't miss. When you've lived at The Mannor for a year or the adoption papers get finalized, I give my children this..."

He pulled a Poke'ball out of his poket and handed to Damian. "Go on son, let them out."

He did

Staring at him was his own Eevee.

---

AN: All of Damian's Pokemon (sans maybe Omni, I'm thinking of leaving her as an Eevee) will eventually evolve. Eventually.

[mrsalwayswrite]

Singing in the Shower (Ragnarssons x Reader)

This is just a silly little one-shot that came to mind that I could not stop thinking about. It got a bit deeper than I planned but oops?

Also my first time writing a Ragnarssons x reader! Please let me know if I did all the brothers justice. Except Bjorn isn’t in here. So its just the sons of Aslaug. Sorry, Bjorn.  

Warnings: some brief mentions of abusive/unhealthy past relationships, reader has some insecurities, the brothers being the best roomies ever but also creepers, like one or two swear words, FLUFFY GOODNESS!!! 

Words: 3700

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius​

 (picture is from Pinterest. Not mine.)

The sound of laughter echoed around you even before leaving your bedroom. It was a Sunday night so that meant the Lothbrok brothers were all over. A tradition Ubbe started some months ago to make sure the four brothers stayed connected in each other's lives. Every Sunday evening, all of them would congregate in the three bedroom flat you shared with Ubbe and Hvitserk. They would order a stack of pizzas and enough beer to put a pub crawl to shame, and watch movies or play video games until the early morning hours. Only twice had fist fights broken out between Sigurd and Ivar with just a table and a lamp damaged in the process, so Ubbe called it a win. 

 It had only been about a year that you lived with Ubbe and Hvitserk. Sigurd chose to move in with a couple members of the band he played in. Aslaug vehemently refused to let Ivar move out due to his many medical needs that she claimed he could only receive proper attention for at home. In equal parts rebellion and to escape his mother’s suffocating attention, Ivar spent the majority of his free time and nights crashing on the couch at your shared flat. 

 At first, you were hesitant about living with the two brothers, having only known them through friends, but you decided to give it a chance. Within a couple of months, you found the strange dynamics of your shared space and your vastly different relationships with each of the brothers to feel eerily familiar….like being home. 

 Standing at your door, you listened to the brothers for a few moments, smiling broadly as you heard Hvitserk taunting Sigurd about how he was going to beat his ass if he threw another blue shell at him. Meanwhile Ivar was yelling something about the undeniable magic of Yoshi and his winning streak. They must be playing Mario Kart again. 

 It was nice to hear them all getting along. Normally Sunday nights you hung out with your boyfriend to give the brothers privacy, even though all of them repeatedly told you it was unnecessary. That was until last week. You had taken a selfie on your boyfriend's phone and went to set it as his background to surprise him….and found nude pictures of other girls and the dick pics he sent them back. Before you stormed out of his flat, you may have thrown his phone against the wall, pleased when the screen shattered just like your trust. Then you came home and cried to Hvitserk about how you were swearing off men and just wanted to be a spinster for the rest of your life. 

 Word must have spread between the brothers. For the rest of the week, they all offered their support in various ways. Sigurd texted you a few times to check on you and remind you that clearly you were better off without your ex. Ubbe gave you long hugs as if trying to soak the pain out of you, and made sure you were eating and getting out of bed. Hvitserk surprised you with a new sugary treat every day ranging from Oreos to ice cream to chocolate muffins; then you two would cuddle on the couch indulging yourselves while watching movies. Ivar threatened to beat up your now ex-boyfriend for making you cry and take pictures to send to those girls your ex had been texting. You made sure to shut Ivar's idea down quickly but pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and thanked him for offering. You hated your ex, that did not mean you wanted him dead. 

 You pushed away from your door and down the hallway. Popping your head around the corner, you saw the brothers in various positions in the living room, eyes all glued to the TV and the race happening on-screen. 

 "I'm gonna shower." You announced, receiving grunts of affirmations as they were too focused to fully acknowledge you. Smiling at their antics, you headed into the bathroom, shutting the door and starting the shower up. Once the water was at the perfect temperature, you stripped and jumped in. Of course, once the mixture of hot water and steam helped you relax, you started singing to yourself, letting the worries of the day fade away for just a moment as the words flowed from your lips and echoed off the shower stall walls like your own little stage. 

 Unbeknownst to you, as soon as the bathroom door shut and the sound of water running could be heard, the volume on the TV was muted. 

 Ivar, surprisingly, was the first one to overhear your singing. He had come over to crash for a few hours after his latest doctor appointment and to work on an assignment for a University class. The bathroom door somehow had not fully latched when you closed it, cracking open while you were in the shower….and you started singing. Ivar sat stunned on the couch at the voice slipping out of the bathroom like a siren's song. He remained there, transfixed as you sang some song he had never heard but he could feel in his chest. Once you stopped singing and the shower turned off, he quickly jumped up and hobbled over to silently shut the door, slightly embarrassed by the idea of you catching him listening in to your shower singing. 

 Later that day after you headed out to work, Ivar asked Ubbe and Hvitserk if they had heard you sing yet. Both of them denied ever hearing you sing. When asked if he knew anything, Sigurd was upset, having asked you on multiple nights to go to a karaoke bar with him and some friends. You always refused by saying you sounded Iike a beached whale. 

 Ubbe was next to overhear. He was walking by the bathroom on the way to the kitchen when he heard your voice drifting from underneath the bathroom door. Feeling like a creeper but curiosity winning out, he pressed his ear to the bathroom door to listen better. To say he had been shocked was an understatement. Sure, he had heard Ivar praise your voice, but he figured his youngest brother was exaggerating. It made him wonder why you never sang in front of others. 

 A silent pact was made between the brothers that they would never share the information of your singing with anyone outside the four of them….and whenever you jumped in the shower, whoever was the closest would go and crack the bathroom door open so they could hear you better. 

 This time was no different. 

 Sigurd was closest, so after Ubbe paused the game, he jumped up and silently cracked open the door so your beautiful voice could flow out. The game picked back up but remained on mute so they could hear you. The first song you serenaded them with was Walk Me Home by Pink. Apparently, one of your new favorites since you sang it so often. Next was Someone Like You by Adele. By the third song, the brothers had abandoned the game and were solely focused on you and the raw emotion bleeding from your voice. This time you started to sing Someone You Loved by Lewis Capaldi.  

 Ubbe spoke up, keeping his voice quiet just in case you could hear them, however unlikely. "Has she said anything about her ex lately?"

 "Not to me." Hvitserk answered first. "I thought she was doing fine."

 "Just because she's not crying all the time doesn't mean she's fine." Ivar retorted harshly, never removing his eyes from the direction of the bathroom. After a moment, he got up and hobbled towards the bathroom. 

 "Ivar…. Ivar, what are you doing?" Ubbe hissed but was ignored. 

 As quiet as possible, Ivar walked into the bathroom and sat on the toilet lid; your singing managed to cover the sounds of his movement. As he rolled his head to the side, it was to find his brothers had followed him with varying expressions ranging from concern to amusement. 

 Normally you did not spend so long in the shower but today you decided to spoil yourself. You had been doing well all week but this morning you were scrolling through your Instagram and happened to stumble upon a picture of your ex with a new girl, smiling happily and kissing at a restaurant…. the day after you broke up. And seeing them together felt like it ripped a tear into the slowly healing pieces of your heart. 

 Instead of going out like you planned to do, you laid in bed all-day binge-watching movies and feeling like an idiot. So in the shower you took extra time pampering yourself, using a deep conditioner in your hair, shaving everywhere and just letting the hot water cascade down your skin and loosen the tense muscles. 

 At this point you were feeling a little better and decided it was best not to waste any more water. You turned the water off, running your hands down your body to get as much excess water off, before you reached for your towel. Grabbing the plush towel hanging on the rack, you quickly dried your hair and wrapped the towel around your body before pulling the curtain back….

 Only to shriek as you realized you were not alone in the bathroom. 

 "What? What are you guys doing?" You demanded, eyes frantically darting between the four brothers.

 Ivar sat on the toilet lid; head tilted as he watched you with a peculiar expression on his face. Hvitserk leaned against the sink, eyes darting from your towel-clad body to the floor then back up. Ubbe and Sigurd stood in the doorway, both looking the least comfortable but still not moving. 

 "We, ah, we were…. well, we are concerned for you." Ubbe said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

 "Concerned?" You asked incredulously. 

 Ivar ignored your question. "Is this about your ex? Want me to pay him a visit?"

 "What are you talking about?"

 "Your singing. They were sad songs." Sigurd answered, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. 

 Heat flooded your face. You dropped your head, staring at the bathroom floor as you clutched the towel closer to your body. Honestly, the idea of them hearing your singing was far more humiliating than them seeing you naked at this point. "You…. you heard me…. singing?"

 "Y/n, are you OK? You know you can tell us anything." Hvitserk said, trying to meet your eye. 

 "Um, can…. can we talk about this when…. when I'm not naked?" 

 "Of course. Come on, brothers." Ubbe quickly agreed, tapping the door as if to signal. He and Sigurd walked away first. Only when you finally met Hvitserk's eye did he push off the sink and head out but not before giving you a flirty wink. 

 "Ivar…."

 He slouched back, folding his hands behind his head. "I'm quite comfortable here."

 "Oh gods, please, Ivar." You begged, almost on the verge of tears. 

 He stared at you a long moment before pushing himself to his feet. "Don't think you're getting out of this."

 "Ok."

 Appeased, he made his way out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him. 

 Once alone, you stepped out of the shower only to drop onto the toilet lid and place your head in your hands. Your chest heaved and your eyes stung as you fought back the tears that threatened to fall. Today was bad enough and now this. It had to be something out of a nightmare. Your own personal hell. 

 When you finally composed yourself, you quickly changed into your comfiest sweats and tank top. You wished you could make a run for your room, anything to avoid the impending conversation but you knew the brothers would follow, they were all stubborn and persistent when they wanted to be. 

 With a deep breath, you stepped out of the bathroom and towards the living room. What hushed disagreement the brothers were clearly having abruptly ended when they noticed you. Awkwardly you remained standing, unsure where to sit. The only open spots were on the couch between Hvitserk and Ivar or one of the recliners as Ubbe sat in the other one. Sigurd reclined on the rocker gaming chair on the floor. 

 Averting your eyes, you started towards the open recliner only to have a strong arm snake around your waist as you passed by and pulled you onto the couch. You squeaked as you suddenly found yourself perched on Ivar's lap. Somewhere you had certainly never been before. 

 "Where do you think you're going?" He asked, a cocky grin spread across his face. 

 "Um, over there." You nodded your head towards the other open spot. 

 "No, you're sitting here now."

 "Stop hogging her, brother." Hvitserk reached over and dragged you off Ivar. Somehow you ended up with your back against Hvitserk's side, his arm slung around you and your legs across Ivar's lap, him slowly running his hand up and down them. 

 Ubbe raised an eyebrow at the three of you. "Are you done yet?"

 "I thought we were just fine but I guess Hvitty had other plans." Ivar snarked, rolling his eyes. 

 "We're good now." Hvitserk said with a cheesy smile, making you giggle. 

 "So how are you really doing, y/n?" Ubbe asked, staring at you with those knowing blue eyes. 

 "Um, I'm alright. Today was just…. rough." At the four questioning looks, you quickly explained about what you found this morning on Instagram. 

 Ivar slapped the armrest of the couch. "I'm beating his ass now and nothing you say can stop me."

 You snagged his other hand that was still on your leg and clasped it, as if that alone could diminish his deadly intent. "Please don't. He's not worth it. I just…. I just want to move on. Ok?"

 He grumbled, but eventually gripped your hand and gave it a single squeeze in acknowledgement. 

 Now here was the part that petrified you; but you needed to know. 

 "Um, how…. how long have…. was this your first time?" Your words stumbled out, making you cringe at how ineloquent it was. 

 "What are you talking about?" Sigurd drawled; one foot propped up so he slowly rocked in the gaming chair.  

 You licked your lips, your mouth suddenly dry. You dropped your gaze, as you whispered your answer. "My….my singing."

 "What? You sound bloody brilliant! The others have heard you more than me but you always sound amazing!" Sigurd exclaimed, a beaming smile on his face. "I don't know why you haven't gone out with me before! Oh! I'd love for you to try and sing in my band, we could use an amazing vocalist like you! Gods, we could get way more gigs with a beautiful woman like you upfront singing."

 Soon as Sigurd started talking, you covered your face with your hands. The tears you managed to repress earlier flooded back. Your shoulders hunched over, cowering into yourself at the revelation. They had all heard you. Apparently more than just this one time. It was mortifying. Long ago you stopped singing in front of others, no longer able to face the ridicule, the degrading comments always thrown your way. And now, these brothers that you had become so close to…. if they said anything negative towards you right now, you were sure your heart would fully break and no lyric would ever pass your lips again. 

 Hvitserk shifted behind you, turning you so he could wrap both arms around your waist and place his cheek against the side of your head. "Y/n, talk to us." 

 You shook your head, the barely suppressed tears and poisoned words clogging your throat. 

 Abruptly, a pair of calloused hands grabbed yours, forcing them away from your face. You were immediately met by a pair of piercing blue eyes, only inches from your face. 

 "Whose ass am I killing now? Huh?" Ivar demanded in a low, menacing tone. Between his tone and the fury burning in his eyes, you knew he meant his question, and that sent a nervous chill down your spine. 

 "It's not…. it’s nothing."

 "Bullshit." Ivar spat. 

 Hvitserk nuzzled your temple, his voice lighter but still with an edge of steel in it. "I agree with Ivar. Something happened."

 Biting your bottom lip, you closed your eyes. There were a few things that were just too painful to talk about and this one, they had unknowingly stumbled upon. 

 "Was it your mother?"

 Your eyes flew open, your head snapped over to stare at Ubbe in shock. He met your gaze unflinchingly, and somehow you knew he already figured at least part of it out. He accidentally overheard a phone conversation between you and your mother one time and once you got off the phone, he immediately pulled you into a bone-crushing hug and promised you never had to see her again if you never wanted to, that they would take care of you. Of course, you cried all over him after he promised that. 

 Ubbe leaned forward in the recliner, placing his elbows on his knees, gaze still intent on you. "What did she do?"

 "She…. she hated when I sang. Said I was just desperate for attention. That I needed to just shut up. That no one would want to listen to me anyway. If she ever caught me singing…. once she duct-taped my mouth shut."

 You could hear the gasps at your confession, followed by a round of curses. Hvitserk pressed a kiss to your temple, tightening his hold on you. Ivar squeezed your hands, still holding them within his own. 

 Ubbe nodded as if not surprised. He ran a hand down his face and sighed before stealing your gaze once again. "I have a feeling she wasn't the only one to hurt you."

 At this point, a silent tear trekked down your cheek. You sniffled, dropping your gaze down. "I had an ex who used to make fun of my singing. He used to say 'at least you're pretty'. When we would ride together listening to music, he would tell me to stop singing and 'leave it to the professionals'. At some point, it just….it was better to not sing in front of anyone. So I only sang in the shower cause I thought no one would hear me."

 Hvitserk turned your head, looking into your eyes. "Baby, listen to me. Your singing is incredible. We all love listening to you sing. Please don't be embarrassed about this with us."

 "I'd love for you to walk around the house singing, I could happily listen to that all day." Ubbe said, a tender smile on his lips. 

 "I second that!" 

 "Sig, you're only here on Sundays." Ubbe glanced over at his brother. 

 Sigurd shrugged. "So? I could listen to her sing all day. Maybe she should move in with me and actually be appreciated."

 "No! You're not stealing her from us!" Hvitserk said, practically cradling you against him, like a puppy afraid to lose its favorite toy.

 "It's not stealing if she wants to go!" 

 Ivar butted in. "I am more interested in this other shitty ex and mother...can I find them?"

 "No, Ivar. You have to stop threatening people."

 "Why?" He whined at you, tugged on your hands, your legs still across his lap. "You won't let me teach them a lesson so all I can do is threaten."

 "Also sounds like you have terrible taste in guys. Anymore shitty exes we should know about?" Sigurd asked, rocking his chair. 

 You figured at this point you were spilling all your dirty secrets so what was one more. "Um, I was talking to this one guy but when he found out I moved in here, he called me a whore for moving in with two brothers and told me I was a waste of his time." You softly admitted, having made sure none of them ever heard about that after it happened. 

 For a moment there was dead silence then….

 "I'm going to need his name right now." Ubbe said, malice dripping off every word. 

 "Yeah! Let's cut his tongue out! See what he says about that!" Ivar cheered. 

 You could not stop the laughter that came out. The idea that these brothers got so worked up over anyone that ever insulted or hurt you was both sweet and slightly infuriating, but mostly sweet. No one had ever cared about you as strongly as these four brothers. 

 "It's fine now. How about this? Next guy to hurt me, I promise I'll give you his name."

 "No! I want to cut this asshole's tongue out. Maybe slap him with it after!" Ivar smiled with a pure predatory look. 

 "I think you should just date one of us." Sigurd shrugged, watching everyone with a smirk. "Then you know he'd treat you right."

 "I like this idea." Hvitserk smiled, squeezing you lightly. "We would romance the hell out of you."

 "You guys are being silly. I don't even know what romance would look like." You giggled at the absurd idea. All the brothers were gorgeous in their own ways and could pick up any girl they wanted, why would they want you? Besides, your relationships were just platonic. "Is the interrogation over now? Want me to leave so you can get back to your game?"

 "Nope, you're stuck here." Ivar said, leaning on you now so you were sandwiched between the two brothers. 

 Ubbe chuckled. "We've told you before, you are welcome to hang out with us. Why don't we put in a movie?"

 After many arguments and some mild threats, a movie was finally chosen. You settled against Hvitserk, facing the TV, as you played with Ivar's hair, his head now in your lap. 

 As you watched the movie, you missed the silent conversation between the brothers happening around you. It was decided that your next boyfriend would certainly be one of them and in the meantime, they were all going to romance the hell out of you and make sure you understood how important and incredible you are. 

 Starting with making sure you sang whenever you wanted. 

[ri-ahhh]

hi can you write about spending a valentine’s day with gray pls?

valentine’s day smut w/ gray? + more haha sorry couldn’t put them all in

A/N: I’m sorry this is a day late. It was supposed to be 90% smut but somehow it took on a mind of its own and turned into this monster.

warnings: smut, extremely cheesy, way too long

***

It should be a given understanding that Valentine’s Day is the dumbest, most antiquated, overrated holiday that’s ever existed. That had always been your take on it, even as a little kid — the worry of spelling your classmates’ names correctly on cards imprinted with cheesy Scooby Doo and Spongebob puns; the expectation to dress up nice in the hopes you would get asked to be someone’s Valentine in the hallways of middle school; the potential embarrassment of being the only person in class who didn’t get bought one of those stupid roses from a ‘secret admirer’ in high school.

There’s simply too much pressure surrounding the idea of professing your love or even your mere fondness for anyone and everyone in your life. The fear of rejection if you do, and the judgement if you don’t. It had always made you anxious, whether you had someone to share the day with or not.

But this Valentine’s Day, as a young twenty-something, you were actually (secretly) looking forward to it. Conner was your first adult relationship, with the title of ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’ and labels and commitment. He’s cute and smart and charming and yours. So, sue you if you were quietly anticipating wearing that SavageXFenty set beneath a brand new dress while you went to dinner after being greeted at the door with roses and a box of chocolates.

And yet here you are, on February 14th, hood of your sweater drawn over your head as you rummage through your freezer with a clear target in your mind. Your eyes are blurry and swollen, but you find the pint of birthday cake Nada Moo with ease, and you slam the freezer door closed a little harder than you really mean to as soon as it’s in your grasp.

You’ve just popped the lid off when your phone buzzes on the kitchen counter where you’ve plopped down to eat your depression snack in a more acceptable place than your bed or the couch.

You see Grayson’s name accompanied by a goofy, up-close picture of him smiling filling the screen, and hesitate. He’s one of your best friends, and clearly done nothing wrong, but you’re not sure you’re capable of handling anyone of the male species right now after...everything.

At the end of the day, though, it’s Grayson. He knows heartbreak almost better than anyone, and you’ve coached him through it on more than one occasion. Maybe he can spew back some of your own advice if it comes to that.

You swipe the bar at the bottom of the screen, and your ceiling suddenly replaces the image of his silly, handsome face. “Sup?”

“Yo. Am I interrupting anything? Sorry, just remembered what day it is.”

You swallow. “Uh no, you’re not.”

“What’s wrong?”

You bite your lip hard, digging your spoon into the softened ice cream. Was it that obvious just from your voice that you had been upset? Or does he just know you that well?

“Nothing.”

“You sound like you’ve been crying.”

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie. Let me see your face.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you concede. “No. I’ve been crying.”

He’s quiet, and you can’t bring yourself to look at his own face in the corner of the screen. You shove the chunk of ice cream past your lips, and after a moment he says with a softer tone, “Crying on Valentine’s Day is never a good sign.”

You’re glad that you’ve gotten so much of your tears out already, because you feel the inevitable prickle behind your eyes that would have been full-blown waterworks a few hours ago. You scoop another bite. “Conner cheated on me — has been, cheating on me. I found out last night.”

Grayson sighs your name, and something about the genuine sympathy in his voice makes you even more emotional. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. What a piece of shit.”

You shrug even though he can’t see, and sniffle past the lump in your throat. “It’s whatever. I’m still in shock more than anything. Hurts like hell, though, still. I let him have it when I saw the texts and he hasn’t tried to call me once. No texts. Nothing.”

He’s silent, but it’s that raging silence you know oh so well from him. It doesn’t happen often, but anyone who knows Grayson Dolan knows that when his volume comes down, he means business. A loud and obnoxious Grayson is a happy one, but a brooding and quiet one means serious business.

“Do you want me to go beat his ass? I’ll do it.”

A smile cracks your scowl before you know it, and you shake your head. “No thanks, Gray. As much as I’d love to see that happen, I like your face the way it is. And not on a mugshot.”

He chuckles a little, and you feel your chest lift some just hearing the familiar depth of it. “Well, do you at least want me to come over later? I totally get if you need to be alone, but I know from experience sometimes what helps the most is having good friends around.”

You’re a little surprised. “You don’t have a date?”

“Nope.”

“No one from the roster hitting you up?”

“I don’t have a roster,” he argues playfully, but you both know that’s a lie, if not at least a stretch of the truth. “And even if I did, you’re more important. Always.”

You sigh and take another bite. His words make your neck tingle and your toes wiggle, but you ignore it; your brain is full of confusion as it is. “That makes one man in my life who thinks so, I guess.”

You finally prop your phone up against the fruit basket sitting in the middle of your bar so he can see you. Grayson takes in your image, which admittedly must look kind of pathetic, and you watch his jaw clench and release in a way that you can’t deny is utterly sexy.

“Is an hour okay? Tell Vanessa to come, too.”

“Benito took her to Tulum for the weekend,” you say, referring to your best friend and her boyfriend. “She did threaten to get on a plane and come home early for me, though.”

Grayson grins crookedly, but his jaw is still tight. “Well, tell her you’re in good hands. See you in an hour?”

You give it one last quick consideration; you already feel this much better just talking to him on the phone. Nothing bad could come from him being in your apartment, and you trust him. “Yeah, that’s fine. But just so you know, I’m already at the stage of eating ice cream at 10:30 AM.”

“Did you forget you’re talking to the emotional ice cream eating champion? No judgement here.”

You finally let out a giggle, your spirits officially lifted. “I’ll see you soon.”

**

True to his word, Grayson arrives at your door about an hour later, his arms laden with milkshakes from Monty’s, a gift bag decorated all over with sparkly hearts, and a gorgeous bouquet of flowers.

You’re stunned. The only thing you’d managed to do in the time it took him to get here was take a quick shower in attempts to rid your face of some of the puffiness, throw on some shorts this time with a fresh hoodie, and toss the used tissues scattered around your place into the garbage.

Before you can say anything, he holds out the flowers. “They were out of roses. But I know you like pink.”

You reach out for them slowly, eyes wide, your fingers brushing his when you grasp the plastic wrapping. His cheeks are a similar color to the petals, and it makes both your heart and your lips smile.

“Peonies are my favorite,” you say truthfully. “And yes, especially pink ones. Thank you, Gray.”

“You’re welcome,” he says, sounding relieved.

As he crosses the threshold of your door, he leans down to kiss your cheek, and you can’t help but hum quietly and pull him in for a hug. “That gift better not be for me, either,” you mumble into his chest.

Grayson pulls back, his eyes sparkling, but keeps you close with an arm wrapped loosely around your shoulders. “Oh, this? No, this is for my other best friend I’m trying to cheer up on Valentine’s Day.”

You slap his arm playfully, and lead him into your kitchen, pulling out a vase from the cabinet beneath your sink for the flowers.

The bag has a few gifts in it: a new Comfy (“I remembered you ruined yours when that ketchup bottle exploded all over you the other day”); a huge bag of watermelon sour patch kids (“I know they’re your favorite. Also ice cream gives you brain freeze after the first pint or so, trust me”); and a heart shaped box of your favorite chocolates (“you can eat them or burn them, I wasn’t sure which you’d appreciate more but either is fine with me.”)

You appreciated all of it, more than he would ever understand. All you can do is fling yourself at him weakly, completely overwhelmed. “Fuck you, you’re gonna make me cry all over again.”

Grayson envelops you in those huge, muscular arms, cooing behind that laugh you love so much. “Is that a really backwards way of saying thank you?”

You grunt in affirmation, and with you still wrapped up in his arms, he starts waddling the two of you back the short distance into your living room.

“Here,” he says, coaxing you down into the blanket nest you had created on the couch. “You chill and find a movie. I’ll make popcorn.”

You do, and he does, and the next few hours are spent lounging about in your apartment. Having him here with you is doing wonders from keeping your mind from going down the paths you’d been spiraling towards ever since you saw the messages between Conner and no less than four other girls on Snapchat. You don’t believe in snooping, but finding the first one had been an accident when he received the snap while you had his phone, and your finger happened to press the icon at just the right moment. 

In your eyes, though, the image of one pair of tits that weren’t your own was enough justification to see what else you could find. 

“I hate to admit it, but I’m kind of relieved,” you told Grayson a while later, Shrek playing on the TV quietly. He’s sitting next to you, far enough apart for there to be couch space between the two of you, but close enough to share the oversized blanket thrown over your laps. “Obviously what he did is so fucking shitty and I’m not justifying it in any way, but I can be honest with myself now and realize I wasn’t in that relationship for the right reasons. There wasn’t anything there emotionally at the end of the day.”

“You still have every right to feel hurt by what he did, though. It’s a huge violation of trust,” Grayson assures, reaching out and squeezing your hand gently.  

You squeeze back and grimace at him. “Yeah.” You let out a little mirthless laugh and shake your head, heat flooding your cheeks. “It’s so embarrassing, too. And finding out the day before Valentine’s, no less. Like, I just wanted to look cute, have a nice dinner, have some nice sex, and just... I don’t know. Have an actual Valentine’s day for once. No pressure or anxiety or anything.”

Grayson stares at you in that way he does — so intense and almost intimidating if there wasn’t a genuine warmth behind it. You’re suddenly aware of his thumb brushing the back of your hand slowly. He squeezes your fingers again. 

“So, let’s do it, then. You and me.”

You arch a brow at him, smiling at the rosiness in his cheeks when he realizes what he might have implied. “The dinner part, I mean. And the dressing up. Even though I think you look plenty cute right now.”

You roll your eyes, but for the countless time that day, your heart flutters happily. Looking back, you can’t remember the last time Conner had complimented your appearance, let alone after hours of crying and lazing around in sweats, sugar crystals stuck to the corner of your lip. 

“That would be great, except there’s no way we’re getting into any restaurant at this point,” you remind him. “Probably no delivery, either.”

“I’ll cook for you,” he counters, throwing the blanket off his legs and standing up with a groan. He stops to stretch, and the way his arms go over his head makes his shirt ride up at the bottom, exposing a chunk of hard muscles and golden skin. 

You swallow, eyes trailing up the rest of his torso appreciatively. “I don’t have much.”

He’s already rummaging through your pantry, though, and pulls out a half-full box of pasta, a jar of marinara sauce, and a leftover chunk of sourdough bread. “You got salad stuff?”

You nod, and he opens the fridge to find some lettuce, peppers, and other salad fixings before setting them with the pasta ingredients on the counter. “Go get dressed, look as cute or not cute as you want. I’ll take care of this.”

He’s absolutely unreal. “Gray-”

Grayson holds up his hand. “Ah, no, I’m doing this. You deserve it. Also, I’m hungry. It’s a win-win.”

Your stomach growls as well, and that’s all the convincing you need. While he gets busy in the kitchen, you tidy up the living area some before heading to your room. You feel a little silly, making your third outfit change of the day, but you also like the giddiness in the pit of your belly at the thought of Grayson doing all of this for you. You might as well take advantage of having someone like him in your life. Show him some Valentine’s appreciation of your own.

You forgo the slinky red number you had planned to wear to the restaurant with Conner, and opt instead for a rather unsuspecting blouse-jeans combo, which happen to both respectively frame your tits and ass perfectly.

The lacy, bright pink set in the back of your closet might have made it beneath your clothes, though. The prettiness of it made you feel that much better, even if no one else was going to see it.

Maybe.

Padding back into your kitchen after running a flat iron through your hair and throwing on some concealer, mascara, and lip gloss, you find Grayson draining the pasta into a colander in the sink. 

Grayson does a double-take when he sees you standing there admiring the flex of his bicep as he holds the pot. “Hey! You look amazing.”

“If you say so,” you joke, bumping his hip with yours as. You pass him to pull plates and bowls out of the cabinet.

“I do,” he insists quietly.

Arm outstretched mid-reach, you look over at him, locking eyes with his hazel ones. He looks a little surprised by the words that left his mouth, like he meant for them to stay inside his head. There must be some kind of challenge in your gaze, daring him to elaborate.

He busies himself with the pasta again hastily, his voice low. “Conner is a fucking idiot. To do that to you. To let you go. You don’t deserve that. Especially not today.”

Plates in hand, you rest them gently on the counter with your lower lip caught between your teeth, and peer over at this handsome man you’re so proud and lucky to call your best friend. He’s everything you thought Conner was — cute and smart and charming — but so much more — beautiful and good and kind.

And he’s been right here in front of you the whole time.

You reach out and touch his elbow softly. The hairs on his forearm are crisp but soft, and you follow them down to that gleaming watch on his wrist.

“You know,” you start quietly, fingers tracing the links of the band before flipping his hand over to trace the lines of his palm, “you keep talking about what I deserve today. But you deserve all that and more. You deserve someone’s love that matches your own.”

He watches your delicate fingers on his large, calloused palm, then trails his eyes up to yours when he feels their attention on his face. A piece of hair flops into his eyes, and you reach up without thinking or any hesitation to push it away again with a little smile playing on your glossy lips.

You look down and lay your palm flat against his, admiring the difference in size between your hands for a moment before interlocking your fingers with his.

“I love you.”

Your eyes flit up to his in surprise; he beat you to the words.

“In case that wasn’t obvious,” Grayson continues, turning towards you. “And I hope that’s not too much for you to handle, with everything you’ve had hap-”

“I love you too, Gray,” you interrupt, stepping that much closer to him so you’re nearly chest-to-chest with him.

“Yeah?” He sounds almost boyish in his astonishment, and it makes you want to hold him tight and never let go.

“Yeah,” you giggle. “A lot. I’m sorry it took me getting dumped to realize it.”

He shakes his head, his hand resting on your cheek gently. “Can I kiss you?”

You nod once before he’s swiftly ducking down to claim your lips with his. They’re soft and pliable, and you feel their effects from the nerves in your scalp all the way down to your bare toes.

“Grayson,” you breathe, lashes fluttering open as he pulls back just enough to look at you concernedly.

You smile, bigger and brighter than you have all day, and cup his stubbled cheeks with your hands, scratching your nails gently against his jaw. “I just wanted to say your name.”

Grayson grins now, too. He kisses you more insistently now that he’s got the taste of you on his tongue, which he flicks against the underside of your top lip as he breaks the kiss. “Say it again.”

“Make me,” you challenege, voice breathy and excited, eyes closed as you savor his sweet breath against your lips. “In my room.” You feel him tense up a bit, and you open your eyes to meet his questioning gaze, biting back a smile at the inevitable hope also shining there. “I’m sure.”

With that, Grayson hauls you up into his arms, and you wrap your legs around his waist with a squeal as he buries his face into your neck. He starts making the way to your bedroom, cooked food left long forgotten in the kitchen behind you.

“Are you wearing my signature scent?” he asks, inhaling your skin deeply.

“Mmhm,” you hum, threading your fingers through the back of his thick hair. It’s so long again, and you give the dark strands a sharp tug that makes him grunt. “Part one of my gift to you. Since you got so many for me today.”

“Part one, huh?” he says, crossing the threshold of your room. “What’s part two?”

���What I’m wearing underneath this,” you whisper in his ear, giggling loudly when he lies you down on the bed with more of a toss than he might have intended. “If you want it, that is.”

He looks at you like you’ve lost your mind at the mere suggestion that he wouldn’t, and you take that as enough encouragement to tug at the bow tying your forest green silk wrap blouse together.

The folds part open and expose your chest, clad in that pink lace demi-cup bra with the cage detailing over the tops of your breasts. Grayson moans and dips down to nuzzle your cleavage, breathing in the scent of your warm skin. His hands trail up your sides, from your hips to your rib cage, until they settle in the dips of your waist. His touch ignites you, makes your back arch and your hips grind up against his thigh between your legs, just from the sensation of his hands on these new parts of your body.

“Grayson,” you sigh, and he smirks up at you with his chin on your tits when he realizes that’s all it took for you to say his name again.

You grab his cheeks and kiss that smugness away, shifting your legs so they’re wrapped around his waist once again, pushing down on the small of his back to get your centers to meet.

Both of you gasp into each other’s mouths when his erection rubs against your pussy, even through all the layers of clothing still on your bodies. You reach down blindly, still attacking his mouth with yours, and feel around for his belt.

His pants come off, followed by yours, and he sits you up enough to push your blouse off your shoulders rather gently considering the intensity of everything. Once the garment is tossed over his shoulder, you’re down to nothing but that pretty lingerie and he in his boxer briefs.

There’s a moment of pause and clarity for the two of you, staring into one another’s eyes as the reality hits of what you’re about to do. What it means to both of you. Grayson stares down at you, and places a hand over your rapidly thumping heart.

“Beautiful,” he says quietly, dragging his hand up your chest, over your throat, until he’s cupping you’re cheek and stroking your lip with his thumb.

You smile in return, then part your lips with your eyes locked on his, encouraging him silently to slip that digit in your mouth.

Grayson’s eyes darken, and he offers you his pointer finger instead, swallowing hard when you suck and swirl your soft, wet tongue around it.

Suddenly, he’s rolling the two of you over, switching positions so he’s on his back and you straddle him. You smile happily, taking your turn to duck down and attach your lips to the pulse point his neck, grinding down on his cock with a slow, steady rhythm.

“You’re so amazing, Gray,” you tell him, nipping at the lobe of his ear before kissing the underside of his chin. “Can’t believe you’re all mine now.”

“Can’t believe you’re mine,” he growls back, cursing when you trail your kisses down the center of his body, giving each one of those moon’s their own special attention before continuing down.

When you get to the waistband of his underwear, you trail your tongue on the edge of the elastic and watch his abs contract with each shaky breath he takes. One little move of your hands, and you’ll finally get to see what he’s really packing.

But before you can even hook your fingers there to pull down, he’s tugging on your hair. “Fuck, fuck, c’mere. Please.”

You pout, but follow his lead, licking back up his muscular torso until he’s able to drag you to him for a deep, wet kiss.

“Sit on my face,” he demands, shuffling down on the pillow to make more room for you.

That takes you off guard. “But—”

“Do it. Please. I fucking have to taste you.”

Your body must be working ahead of your brain, because before you know it, you’re straddling Grayson’s face, his tongue is sweeping through the wetness in your slit, and his dark eyes are peering up at you from between your thighs.

“Oh... oh!” you cry out when his tongue starts flicking against your clit. He goes back to swiping up all your arousal, then suctions his lips around your clit. He’s using one hand to hold the lace of your thong aside, and the other dips first one finger, then two inside of you. “Oh, fuck, that’s so good...”

Grayson moans, the vibrations erupting around your clit and sending you right to the edge already. You reach back and palm his cock, rock hard in his underwear still, and squeeze as he makes you cum all over his mouth.

He gets his fill of your cum as he groans and keeps up the motion of his fingers, the pressure of his lips, the softness of his tongue as your pussy pulses with each contraction of your orgasm. You wait for him to start letting up, but something about the way he’s working you just makes those waves stay steady rather than die down again. Maybe that’s his intention, because when you drop your head down to look at him with your mouth wet and agape, there’s a sparkling mischief in his eyes has he eats you out like his last meal.

Your hips grind against his face of their own accord, and you delve one hand in his hair while the other supports you on the headboard. You gasp out a quivering, breathless laugh as it all becomes just too much, and you try to lift off his mouth.

Grayson isn’t having it, though. He wraps his arms around your thighs and holds you down, reveling in the moans and whimpers and squeals as he makes you cum again.

“Oh my god — enough, enough, I can’t...” you whine, shoving on his forehead until he releases you and drops his head to the pillow. You could already see it by the crinkles in the corners of his eyes, but he’s smirking wide, chest heaving as you slink your way down his body.

You collapse next to him in a daze, and he rolls on top of you smoothly, peppering little kisses to your cheeks, your jaw, your nose. When you’re back in your right mind, you nudge blindly at his face so his lips find yours. He tastes like your pussy, and you sigh happily as you lift your heavy arms to wrap around his neck while his scoop beneath you, holding you close.

You continue to indulge in each other for a while, in the kisses you hadn’t been allowed to share until now. There’s something exciting about his familiarity and yet also this strange newness that has you absolutely desperate for him in every way.

“This is crazy,” you say when you pull back for air, studying his face hovering right above yours. You push back that stubborn chunk of hair that keeps falling into his eyes with a soft smile. “How did we end up here?”

Grayson turns his head to press his lips to your palm. “I don’t know. Is it too much? Should we stop?”

You shake your head vehemently, and he grins. “No, please. I think I just have to grasp that you’re really... mine now.”

He chuckles. “How do you think I felt watching you with that loser for five months?”

The mention of Conner makes you feel nothing — nothing other than gratitude for Grayson, that is. You slide your hands down his back, over his ribs, across his abs until your hand cups his dick.

His hips thrust into your touch, and you grin up at him demurely as you finally delve your hand past his waistband until you’ve got his length completely in your grasp.

He’s hot and hard and thick, and you start stroking him just to gauge the reaction in his face. He doesn’t disappoint, his jaw gaping open slightly, his breaths picking up, a flush rising to the apples of his cheeks.

Without warning, he reaches down and grasps your wrist. You pout, but he asks hastily. “Are we gonna have sex?”

You smirk. “Hell yeah.”

Grayson grins and shakes his head. “Alright, then you gotta stop.”

“Already?” you tease, letting him sit back and hook his fingers in the tiny string of your thong at your hips.

He gives you a look as he pulls the scrap of lace down your legs, then stands to push down his own underwear. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, and you wish he’d let you blow him some before you hit the main event, but he says, “I’ve wanted you for too long to take any chances about screwing up the first time.”

You melt a little, reaching for him as he climbs back on the bed. “There should be some condoms in the drawer there. Just to be safe after... you know.”

He nods and dips down to kiss you before leaning over to riffle through the top drawer of your nightstand. He comes back with a purple square, which you take from him.

“Gotta practice an activity safely,” you wink, tearing open the condom and rolling it down his shaft quickly.

“Shut up.” Grayson rolls his eyes, but smiles softly as he settles between your legs just right. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you whisper, gasping as he starts to sink inside you.

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpers as your walls suck him in and grip him tight.

He goes slow for a couple of minutes, allowing both of you time to adjust to each other. He stretches you out so much better than anyone you’ve ever been with, and you can’t help but clench around him when you see those tattoos and smell his cologne and hear his voice — all things that remind you that this is Grayson fucking you.

He growls the first time you do it, then sits up hastily, pulling his face out of your neck when you do it again. He tucks his knees beneath him, sits on his heels, and hauls your hips into his lap as the speed of his thrusts picks up incrementally. Until he’s fucking you for real, and your tits bounce in your bra with every upstroke.

You shove an arm beneath your pillow, enunciating the curves of your body, and watch his expressions as he fights to hold back. His hair is disheveled, lip caught tight between his teeth and muffling his deep, satisfied sounds that mingle with your open higher-pitched ones. He catches your eye and his hands on your hips grip you so tight for a moment that you’re sure little bruises will be there in the morning — not that you mind.

“Fuck,” he whispers harshly before slowing his hips and shifting down to give you a deep, sloppy kiss. “Turn over.”

You moan into his mouth, then follow his order, rolling onto your front as soon as he pulls out. You expect him to haul your hips up into the air, but he moves your hair off your neck and trails sweet kisses from shoulder to shoulder, his hand sweeping down the subtle curve of your back until he’s gripping your ass.

Grayson’s hand moves down your thigh and pushes it up and out once he’s cupping the back of your knee. The angle encourages you to twist your upper half until you have sight of him once again in all his angled, sweaty, muscular glory.

“Fuck me, baby,” you beg him, already anticipating the fullness inside you again. Needing it.

“Want me to fuck you?” he asks needlessly, pushing into your pussy once again. You moan loudly, either in confirmation or from pure pleasure, it doesn’t matter. The angle is tighter, the tip of his dick hitting a spot so perfectly accurate inside of you that you can’t concentrate on anything other than how good he’s making you feel. “Yeah. So fucking sexy. So beautiful...”

“Gray.. oh fuck yes, right there,” you whimper, catching onto his arm as he leans over you and gives you those hard, steady strokes.

“Open your eyes, baby, lemme see them when you cum,” he growls out.

You open them as much as you can, your vision blurry, but you can still make out those handsome features soaking in the pleasure on your face. Watching and waiting for you to get yours so he can get his.

As soon as you’re clenching like a vice around him, Grayson is letting go into the condom. You can vaguely feel the throb of him as he cums in spurts, the sound of his masculine, drawn-out groans making you shiver and tense up even more on his dick. If it’s possible for anyone to sound as sexy as they look, Grayson achieves that in spades.

He collapses on the bed next to you, and you have just enough strength to roll over until he’s got you gathered in his arms. You nuzzle into his chest and try to process everything. You had been hoping for nice sex today, and instead you got the best sex of your life.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence while you both catch your breath, after he pulls and ties off the condom, you smile into his cooling skin with a satisfied sigh.

“Thank you for making this the best Valentine’s Day of my life. Especially after it was starting to look like the worst.”

“You made this the best day of my life, period,” he says, kissing your forehead. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Gray.”

[stillness-in-green]

MVA In Memoriam (2/5)

The Comprehensive Account of the Butchering of My Villain Academia

(Introduction and Part One, Episode 108: My Villain Academia)

Part Two, Episode 109: Revival Party

Chapter 224 – Revival Party

• Mr. Compress’s side comment about how the distance Re-Destro wants them to travel means he must know they have warp capabilities. Also shortens his subsequent line, removing the bit about how their position has been locked onto, leaving only the marveling about the dude on the phone being the kind of person who has access to a satellite camera. Not a major cut, but it did strip out a bit of reiteration on how very Seen the League is. The warp line is another nod to how the MLA’s been doing their research—in particular, it ties in nicely with RD’s observations about the Noumu. He talks, there, about something Dabi said after the High End fight, which means he must also know that Dabi was warped out by an “Ujiko-san.”

• Also Mr. C’s observation that they haven’t broken Machia yet, and his posed question about what to do. Mr. Compress, I’m so sorry that you’re so wordy and lose so many quips and asides because the anime was set on brutally scything out every line of non-essential dialogue it could find.

• Ujiko’s extremely hilarious, “Listening to Villain Radio is my new favorite hobby,” line. Why would you cut this; this line is hysterical.

• The bit where Mr. Compress has the bright idea to use a High End Noumu like the one Dabi used, Ujiko rejects the suggestion out of hand, citing production woes, and Shigaraki says that he wasn’t going to ask for one of them anyway. Aside from being more cut Compress content (or “Comptent,” for short), it helps center the timeline somewhat at a point where the manga is jerking it around all over; it also shows that the League has been keeping up with news from the outside world. It also shows that at least one of them thought about using the Noumu—and since we know Re-Destro did some rationalizing on that scenario too, it’s good to see that it is at least briefly on the table.           Further, Ujiko provides a few rare details about the Noumu creation process. Firstly, that AFO is normally involved, so his absence makes the procedure much more difficult (though not, apparently, impossible). Secondly, that Hood-chan was the only Noumu who’d actually reached the testing stage. This will be important later, for Ujiko’s agonizing about unleashing them early/Mirko having to fight four of them at once.           Also, I just miss Mr. C’s funny little head wilt when Ujiko immediately turns down his “use some Noumu” idea. Ditto Shigaraki’s blasé shrug and little grin. Again, not to harp on the art too much, but man I wish the anime had kept all the fierce little grins and tight, incensed smirks Shigaraki has through the majority of this and the phone call sequence.

• Spinner’s line, “Without knowing squat about what we’re up against?!” A minor cut, as these things go, but it reiterates that there’s a chance RD is bluffing and the League has no way to know one way or the other, and demonstrates that the League can give Shigaraki some pushback on his decisions without having to worry about getting dusted for the temerity.[1]

• Takes one of Spinner’s lines—“Wait. I get it. Wherever you go, Shigaraki, he’ll sniff you out and hunt you down.”—and gives it to Shigaraki instead. Because fuck Spinner’s growing understanding of Shigaraki and the way his mind works, I guess! It’s especially notable that Spinner figures this out when Mr. C had completely the wrong idea about Shigaraki’s intentions—it demonstrates the way Spinner is gradually aligning himself with Shigaraki’s way of thinking, which we’ll see even more clearly during the War Arc. Also, again, it’s good to see the moments where the League weighs in on Shigaraki’s plans.

• The visual of Twice lashing out at Dabi with his razor-edged tape measure over Dabi’s dismissal of Giran, though all the relevant dialogue was there. Possibly this is because, having cut the CRC bit, the audience has no way of knowing that Twice’s tape measure is razor-edged, so why bother raising the question, “Why is Twice trying to attack Dabi with a tape measure..?” Possibly it’s because showing that attack would require animating movement, and MAN ALIVE, did Episode 109 ever want to do everything it could to avoid animating movement.

• Slidin’ Go’s line about how Deika isn’t usually his turf, but today is a big exception. This makes the hearty affirmative with which Trumpet announces himself a response to Shigaraki’s half-phrased observation about the reason behind the city’s emptiness, rather than a response to Slidin’ Go. It works, more or less, and probably even flows more clearly, all things considered. I’m always sad to lose lines from the vanishingly few named/characterized MLA members we have, though. I like, too, that it hints at the machinations that have to have been involved with setting things up for the Revival Party, and the way those plans were carried out with confidence that Re-Destro’s “bait the League into coming for their broker” plan would work despite the total absence of a response from the League in any of the time Giran was missing/his fingers were cropping up on the nightly news reports.

• A few shots of cameras in the city, which foreshadow Skeptic’s watchful eyes and ability to track the League through the city. In retrospect, this isn’t surprising, since the anime went on to cut basically any indication of Skeptic’s entire plan re: the footage of the League attacking, so why bother keeping the cameras? (Oh, right. Skeptic’s whole thing is cameras and information/disinformation. Skeptic for second-most screwed-by-the-anime MLA member.)

Additions

• Showed Toga having stood back up somewhere during Shigaraki’s explanation of their throw-Machia-against-the-MLA plan. A simply appalling choice. In the manga, she stays crouched down by Twice the entire time Shigaraki has his mask pulled off, because Toga cares about reassuring Jin-kun when he’s in a bad way.

• Rephrased Compress’s dialogue somewhat, also giving him a new line about the MLA’s forces in Deika when the League was still in the hills looking down at the city: “The so-called Meta Liberation Army has a force of 110,000 here.” I assume it was because the scene falls in a different episode than the tactical discussion did (in the manga, they’re the same chapter), so the anime was reminding the viewer of the stakes, but it’s potentially awkward because, er, no, the MLA categorically did not bring their entire army to Deika. We’ll find out as much for sure later, with the note that the regiment advisors weren’t in attendance because they were occupied at the bases they command, but even with only the knowledge we have here, Re-Destro’s statement about his numbers is that they’re scattered all over the country—hence the shot of Japan with a bunch of lights scattered across it to represent said numbers.           That said, to be (briefly) charitable, there’s no particular reason for the League to assume that, and they did discuss the possibility that there were going to have to fight 110,000 people. So it makes sense that Mr. C might state as much when recapping for the audience.

Chapter 225 – Interview with a Vampire

• Re-Destro talking about Deika’s geography and why they chose it strategically. The anime dropped so much about the MLA’s planning and information-gathering beforehand; it really made the MLA look ludicrously overconfident. And while they don’t lack for that trait, certainly,[2] this is also an organization that has meticulously grown its membership for generations right under Hero Society’s collective nose; you don’t get to where they are by being unduly foolhardy. Erasing so many scenes demonstrating their caution and forward-planning undercuts the threat they represent to both the League and society at large.           Also too, the descriptor of Deika as a nice, quiet, isolated little town in the mountains gives us some hints about how the MLA has avoided notice for so long, when you consider how the Hero business works: because so many people who get into heroism want to make it big, like celebrities, they don’t want to stick around small-town beats, and so the rural areas are understaffed.[3] That’s presumably why groups like the CRC and the MLA grow their numbers out in the boonies: much less attention from the Powers That Be. You can guess at some of that from how Spinner describes the place—“not too small, not too big”—and what Trumpet says about the percentage of the population that’s MLA, but RD adds that key “isolated” descriptor, and says that it’s a place where they “lay low.” That gives us some potential insight into how many—likely the majority—of the MLA came to their beliefs: by being raised to them, because their hometown was infiltrated by the MLA generations ago and they have literally never known anything else.

• RD’s phrasing, “Counter to point one,” when he makes his second point about the Noumu. He acknowledges that it’s counter-intuitive to his first argument, that he knows it would normally be an argument against that opening point, not in support. It’s just conversational padding, really, but “conversational padding” like that does a lot to distinguish character voice, so that not everyone talks the same way.

• A panel showing a trio of unnamed MLA warriors strategizing about how to divide their forces now that the League has split up. It’s the little cuts like this that gradually remove the agency of unnamed characters, such that they’re left looking like unthinking puppets instead of real people with the ability to register and respond to their circumstances. It also points towards the truth of what the MLA warriors are and one reason they’re so dangerous (for all that the manga itself will neglect this most egregiously later on): they’re trained in regiment tactics and accustomed to working in groups. This contrasts them both with villains, who might group together, but certainly don’t usually fight that way, and heroes, who are so unaccustomed to working in groups that it’s cited as part of the reason to have named super moves.

• Curious’s little pageboy-cut middle school kid line telling Toga to back off when Miss Curious is on the job. This is an early example of how defensive the MLA are of people above them in the hierarchy, an important thing Spinner will pick up on and attempt to use against Trumpet. Again, it’s little moments like this that both add some welcome notes of individuality to the MLA warriors (if only by virtue of Horikoshi and his assistants’ traditional talent for distinctive character design) while also fleshing out who the MLA are as a group, and contrasting them with the League.

• Deleted Toga’s line IDing her “on-the-go suck-suck mask,” but did insert a nice little bit of her expression shifting when she whipped it out. It lost a bit of the self-conscious silliness of her support item name in exchange for a cool little animation beat. I don’t dislike it, particularly, but I am, as previously stated, very leery of edits that make the League more polished in their villainy at the cost of their human foibles.

• Curious’s line about having come prepared to counter Toga’s moves, which was supposed to further reiterate that the MLA has done their research on the League; they didn’t just decide out of the blue to target the most notorious Villains in the country without studying up on them first and planning accordingly!

• Curious’s line about how she’s going to get started with some background info while her people use their meta-abilities to keep Toga and her buddies on the ropes. A marvelously characterful line! It speaks especially to that edge of formality the MLA brass observe that even as she’s ringleading this attack, Miss Curious is still set on going through her interview process step by established step.

Framing Shifts

• Made some of Curious’s lines spoken dialogue instead of internal monologue. That’s probably fine for when she’s waxing enthusiastic about Toga’s lack of hesitation in committing murder or how she’ll use Toga’s story to further the MLA’s agenda. It’s less fine when she’s rattling out the entire name, brand and patent status of her support item for no particular reason when Toga is already halfway through trying to knife her (that’ll be next chapter).

• The anime implied pretty firmly that Curious’s bombers died. And like, yeah, that’s always made more sense than the idea that anyone could survive something like that, but I hate it anyway. For one thing, it makes it even harder to credit the idea that Toga’s still on her feet afterward if Curious’s supposedly not-very-lethal explosions merk all her own people. People in this series survive ludicrous amounts of damage, and these random MLA devotees are no exception! For another, it leans into the narrative that the MLA higher-ups throw away the lives of their minions without the slightest care. It’s a lot harder to make that case when it’s explicit in the manga that Curious’s people survive the blood explosions—the blonde in the tracksuit is unharmed enough to snicker about it, and the noodle chef is even doing well enough to continue attacking! I’ve always been of the opinion that the MLA are, yes, willing to spend the lives of their underlings on attaining goals, if that’s what they think is necessary, but that is not at all the same as gleefully throwing them onto the pyre to watch them burn.

Additions

• Some individual shots of Mr. Compress, Dabi and Twice fending off or fleeing from various MLA types. A nice try on getting the group split up, but it feels kind of budget save-y, when we could have gotten actual animation of those fights instead.

• Inserted a quick shot of a headline about Toga’s first attack as Curious was rambling on about why she’s interested in Toga but not the League in general. Actually a fairly reasonable insertion, given how much text is crammed into her talk bubble in the manga while the dude standing next to her is already getting a knife in the neck.

Chapter 226 – Bloody Love

• A panel of interviewees talking about Toga’s first victim being sociable and popular. It gives a bit of context on what he was like, what people thought of him, but given that we know enough about Toga at this point to know that his popularity was entirely incidental to what she liked about him, it’s not a huge loss.

• The detail of the broadcasted interviews censoring Toga’s name. Considering how Japanese media normally treats minors accused of crimes, this is an eyebrow-raising change—the manga censors it because Japanese media outlets would have done the same. No idea why the anime didn’t, unless it’s another of those places where it would feel too “real,” to have something that so closely mirrors real life treatment of criminals?

• Everything about quirk counseling, and whoo boy, that is a loaded cut. There is exactly one other mention of quirk counseling anywhere in the manga, and, curiously enough, it also comes up in relation to a villain: in the U.A. faculty meeting after the USJ attack, Midnight muses that maybe Shigaraki never received quirk counseling in elementary school. It’s a weird little non sequitur there—exactly what sort of program did she expect could single-handedly make the difference between a well-adjusted adult and a gleefully murderous manchild with aims on killing Japan’s Number 1 Hero? Just over two hundred chapters later, we get a hint: a program designed to fit people “neatly into society’s little boxes.”           Quirk counseling, then, is not about helping children find healthy ways to process their quirks, but rather, about teaching children what is and is not acceptable in terms of quirk use—and as Curious says, Toga’s admiration of blood was never going to be acceptable.[4] This explanation doesn’t just tell us a lot about Toga—that she wasn’t only failed by the hysterical condemnation of her parents, but also by a society that had no interest in helping her if it didn’t see a use for her—but also provides some insight on the viewpoint of the Meta Liberation Army vis-à-vis mandatory state-funded programs that dictate what “normalcy” looks like to impressionable children.           Curious is, of course, not a particularly trustworthy narrator in this, as one might expect of someone who uses language like “society’s little boxes,” but it does track with Midnight’s earlier musing of, “Maybe the anti-social dude never took the program intended to make sure he was a functioning member of society.” That kind of statement—“State-sponsored educational programs are there to program children into becoming unthinking cogs of society, actually.”—is one that it’s all too easy to imagine the people with an eye on broadcast standards taking issue with, even coming as it does from the mouth of a villain.

• Curious’s line, “Let’s turn your death into a legendary tragedy, shall we?” and its accompanying visual of two different papers with imagined headlines. The dialogue doesn’t strike me as crucial—Curious’s fervent belief in Toga’s story is amply demonstrated elsewhere and her intent to turn that story into a legend reiterated in the line immediately following—but it is a shame to lose the headlines. They tell us, in Curious’s own words, exactly the tack she was planning to take in telling Toga’s story to the general public, without the constant namedropping of the Liberation Army that she does when talking about it in person. One headline in particular—The Price of Suppression: A String of Bloody Murders—is an especially useful reference for discussing whether the MLA actually wants, as is popularly claimed, completely unhindered quirk use, even for people like e.g. Muscular who want nothing more than to murder people with their quirks.[5]

• Curious’s initial wait what response to getting Floated, and her people’s focus shifting away from Toga and onto Curious instead. On a surface level, that focus shift helps explain why Toga’s able to zip around the ground and touch nearly twenty people before they even react: because they’re afraid for Curious. It also hurts the ongoing characterization of the MLA rank and file as being fanatically devoted to their higher-ups which, again, is something Spinner is supposed to notice later. It’s the worst kind of plot device if that devotion is completely told to us rather than consistently shown!

• Toga’s internal reflection that she’s seen Ochaco use her quirk, and knows how to use it. It’s obvious from the panel that she knows how to use it, but the manga implies that Toga transforming doesn’t automatically grant her an understanding of peoples’ quirks; it’s only in observation (and possibly love) that she can reach this particular unlock. Leaving out that information leaves open the possibility that she can just do this all the time now, with anybody she transforms into.

• The reaction from the surviving crowd to Curious’s death. See above re: STOP FUCKING ERASING HOW MUCH THE MLA CARES FOR EACH OTHER.

Framing Shifts

• When Toga bolts, Curious in the anime sounded serious, her expression alarmed, like she was actually worried that Toga might escape, even though her dialogue said just the opposite. Maybe you could say that she was afraid Toga would die before she got her statement, but given that she tried to kill the girl herself moments later, I’m skeptical of that claim. Regardless, in the manga, she never loses her smile, and she flashes a Liberation salute as she stands up to give chase. It’s a characterization note, that she’s so wildly confident about this that she never stops being completely enthralled with whatever Toga has to show her.

Chapter 227 – Sleepy

• The last of Toga’s conscious dialogue, about how she’s lost a lot of blood, is fading out, can’t move—but more notably, the way that this state of things makes her feel closer to “them,” that it’s “the same sensation.” And who is “they” here—her victims? The people she loves? More alarmingly, why does the line sound like she’s been this beat-up before, and remembers the sensation? Does that tie into e.g. her comment during the training camp that she doesn’t want to fight too many hero students at once because she doesn’t want to die? Has she actually been subject to this kind of violence before in the past? Does that tie into her still-unexplained ability to erase her presence? It’s an interestingly loaded little line, for being so vague, and illustrative of Toga’s mentality on becoming the people she loves. Which also lets the scene segue nicely into Re-Destro’s observation that, in Toga Himiko’s world, there’s no such thing as “other people.”           On which note, guess what else the anime cut?

• The entire fucking scene where Re-Destro actually reacts to Curious’ death, the motherfuckers. This lost:           1. RD’s talk about the way Toga sees the world and how that led to society casting her out, which he points to as evidence of said society clinging to old ideals even though the nature of humanity itself has changed. It calls back to his methodology with Detnerat, marrying his lines from the commercial to his overarching ideals; it also shows that he understood very well what Curious saw in Toga, and demonstrates that he can express that understanding and empathy even in the face of losing one of his closest allies.           2. Skeptic’s reaction to Curious’s death, which is pretty sparse, but at least present. He says she never should have been on the front lines—an excellent reminder to the people who’re always going on about how the MLA brass thinks themselves so above their followers: Curious was on the front lines, against the wishes of some of her peers!—and calls her a valuable resource.[6] You can theorize about Skeptic not caring for her beyond her usefulness to the cause, or just that Skeptic is a huge autist who processes his emotions differently than most, and isn’t going to stop to do that when there’s still a battle going on, but either way, you need this scene to do it accurately.           3. Speaking of people who process their emotions in unusual ways, as I said above, this scene also shows Re-Destro openly crying over the deaths of Curious and each and every warrior diving into battle with their hopes for the future. They’re not crocodile tears, either. As was the case with Miyashita, there’s no one in this room that Re-Destro would need to perform grief for: Skeptic clearly doesn’t see a use for tears right now, so I don’t see him expecting them from Re-Destro, and the only other person in the room is Giran, a hostage who the MLA—very probably Re-Destro himself—maimed! It’s not like RD’s tears are going to change Giran’s mind about him (indeed, Giran gets a comedic reaction beat at the absurdity of the dude who started all this up here crying about it)! But RD says life is precious and he cries anyway, briefly, before he ruthlessly turns it off.           RD’s valuing of human life—especially his own peoples’ lives—crops up in roundabout ways twice more, both leading the fight with Shigaraki (“It angers me.”) and ending it (“Any more would bring about meaningless death.”). This, though, is when he’s most open about it, to the degree that—as with Machia’s grief—it’s kind of off-putting and strange. Cutting it makes it that much easier for people to get entirely the wrong impression of RD as a character.           4. The delightful scene where Skeptic berates Giran about asking brainless questions and then answers his question anyway. Fuckin’ hell, why cut this?? So much of Skeptic’s character is in this scene! You get moments of his neuroticism later on, but never in so concentrated a burst as this (there’s one other sequence that could compete, but—spoilers—the anime cut that one, too). The exchange also explains the cameras placed throughout the city—which are visually referenced early on—and what the MLA is planning to do with their footage. Without that explanation, the audience has no idea how, exactly, the MLA was planning to use wiping out the League as a springboard for their grand return to the spotlight. That footage is the crucial part of how the rest of the country reacts to Deika in the Endeavor Agency Arc, and the anime never even mentioned it! The audience was just left to assume that all the media came in afterward, not that there was the slightest whiff of footage from the battle itself.           5. Once again brings up Re-Destro’s belief in the power of the heart to move other hearts. We get a bit of that in Curious’s flashback, but here he says it in his own words—as he will also bring it up to Shigaraki. Once again, Shigaraki is going to be challenged about his conviction, which ties back into what Spinner and Ujiko demanded from him earlier in the arc. With so

many people set to be grilling Shigaraki on this front, it tells us again what the arc is for: Shigaraki’s conviction, and him demonstrating it to the people who think he lacks it.

• The panel of Spinner asking how long they’ve been at it and Mr. Compress responding. This line helps manage the pacing, giving the audience an idea how much time is passing as we cut around to different places. It’s also, you know, more cut Spinner dialogue, and shows the beginnings of Shigaraki and Spinner getting split off from the rest by Shigaraki’s sleep-drunk staggering angling him off in a different direction. The rest of the scene is moved to after Toga’s fight with Curious, but not otherwise tampered with.

• The other big reaction to Curious’s death, which is Trumpet using it to rile up the crowd. The group that attacks Shigaraki isn’t just some free-roaming mob—they’re coming at him in a grief-stricken frenzy, which they’ve been goaded into by one of their leaders.           This sequence also introduces the campaign van—a vehicle that will have several more appearances—to events, and hints at Trumpet’s meta-ability. Further, it’s one of the scenes that outright states that the MLA is less an army than a religion, in Mr. Compress’s line about how Trumpet is like a preacher rallying his flock. That understanding—that the MLA may style themselves as an army, but what they really are is a cult—is key to the way the MLA members act, from the very bottom to the very top.

• Trimmed Shigaraki’s flashback down, cutting—among other things—the very first lines Hana speaks, and her namedrop. This moment is the first one Tomura gets back, and the very first thing we find out is that he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. The anime also failed to identify Shimura Nana’s relation to Tenko/Tomura and Hana—helpful to remind the audience of a plot thread they haven’t heard about since Kamino. It also cut out the silhouette of chubby baby Tenko and Tenko’s first line, asking why Hana’s showing him this, a line which clues us in that Hana was the impetus here, not Shigaraki as he was back then. Still not satisfied, it also cut the phrase, “Daddy said all that stuff,” which is a clear and ominous warning that there was some conflict going on between young Shigaraki and the Father whose dismembered hand he now wears on his face.

• Left the dialogue but cut the silhouette of an airborne Geten with his enormous ice fists coming in hot behind Dabi when he was smarming about it not being his style to take the pacifist route. It’s not crucial, since we see the fists again shortly (it’s the end of the chapter page, whereas the anime rolls right on into the continuation of the scene), but it’s a shame, since framing Dabi from below with this sudden presence behind him is a much more fun, dynamic angle than the dead-boring medium shot the anime used. Also too, it’s good foreshadowing for the fact that Geten can fly, since he certainly didn’t get that kind of air by jumping off the roof of the mini-mart across the street.

Framing Shifts

• The crowd attacking Tomura came at him from the back of the shot, whereas in the manga, they’re surging forth from the front; that is, the anime had Shigaraki between the crowd and the POV of the viewer, whereas the manga has the crowd interposing between the viewer and Shigaraki. It makes a huge difference in the impact! Running up from a nebulous background distance, the crowd looked small and futile. Crossing directly in front of the viewer as they attack Shigaraki makes them look like the crashing human wave that they are. But, you know, coming in from the front would mean they’d have to be animated with more detail, and again, Episode 109, more than any other episode in the arc, clearly didn’t have the budget to spare on such things.

• The moment Shigaraki first uses the spreading Decay is horrifically clear in the manga. It’s full of speed lines, Shigaraki moving so fast he decays a dude mid-word, but the impact itself is spread over two pages. We watch his hand literally cleaving through the leading attacker’s face, and then are encouraged to linger on the oversized panel below, the intricately drawn crowd, full of individual faces, still intact on the left, scattering to dust on the right, all fully lit, with Shigaraki—still drawn with speedlines to emphasize his movement—the focal figure in black at the center.           The anime rendered this moment in two stills—Shigaraki’s hand about to hit the lead attacker’s face, and then the crowd already decaying. There was virtually no movement to it, the crowd was so heavily silhouetted against a glare of daylight that it was difficult to tell what was going on, and the moment stayed on screen for only two seconds before Shigaraki landed and threw up, both actions favored with more animation than one of the signature moments of the entire arc. Hell, it even left the walls on either side of the alley intact, when the manga shows them dissolving into ash as well, decay traveling through the ground in a deadly, destructive radius around Shigaraki’s attack.           The anime ever-so-graciously allowed Spinner his line to explain to the audience what just happened, but I think that’s mostly because it would be genuinely difficult to parse if he didn’t. It also gave him a flashback to what we had literally just seen, except this time it wasn’t silhouetted for some reason, so at least the audience got another chance to look at it, I guess?           “Am I seeing things? Just now, his decay effect spread to people he wasn’t even touching!” Well, I guess we’ll have to take your word for it, Spinner.

Additions

• A quick shot of a camera, there and gone almost too fast to register. I want to compliment the anime for adding a camera back in, since it removed the shot of the cameras earlier, but honestly, given that it cut all the scenes about how and why the MLA was gathering footage, I really don’t know why it even bothered. Also too, the camera was gone so fast it felt more like a marker for a scene change—which it also was, segueing the scene from Toga collapsing (only to cut back to her later staggering down an alley) to Spinner and the rest still trying to hold their own—than it did something the audience was supposed to really notice.

Chapter 228 – Wounded Soul

• Twice in the opening pages left out scattered members of the MLA that were around for the start of the Dabi/Geten fight. Leaving them out raises the question of where all the people attacking went, but it’s also the first demonstration that Geten is a danger to his own allies. We don’t see any of them dying on-panel or anything, but we do see them having to dive frantically out of the way because Geten demonstrates no care to the collateral damage of his attacks.

• Cut a small flashback, presumably from Twice’s perspective, of finding the site where Toga and Curious’s fight concluded. You can see the ground covered in blood, and a body that looks a bit like Curious if you squint (distinguishable by the sleeves of her jacket), as well as a small group of people kneeling on the ground in various poses suggesting mourning and a paying of respects. Yet another shot demonstrating the depths of care these people have for their leaders, that they’ve completely let the battle fall by the wayside in favor of their grief.

• Drops the “those zealots” phrase from Twice’s, “I’ll rip those zealots limb from limb for this!” line. Damn, the anime really was determined to erase everything that even hints at the Liberation Army being something much creepier and more damaging than just an underground militia, huh?

Framing Shifts

• For all my complaints about the material, I generally like the voice acting quite a bit. I don’t love the first exchange between Dabi and Geten, though. It’s not a fault of the voice actors themselves, but rather the delivery. Geten was very cool and level-headed throughout, which is all right to a point, but he’s a gremlin under that troll parka, and this fight is where we hear him as close as we ever will to how he is before the multi-layered humbling he’s subject to over the course of this fight. It’s a bit of a shame to play him totally straight, without any of the snark he’s so clearly capable of—and without the tick upwards in vehemence his talk bubbles indicate in his last lines.           Meanwhile, it’s fine for Dabi to get more heated as the scene goes along, and indeed he does, but he also plays it pretty cool at first. You can tell in the shape of his talk bubbles that he’s completely unruffled during his delivery of that, “Consider this a freebie, just for you: ice melts,” line. The anime had him raising his voice for it, and it just loses a lot of the humor of Dabi’s own snark to have him yelling it instead of just laughingly stating it, voice barely raising enough to give his talk bubbles some straighter lines instead of being all undisturbed curves. (For comparison’s sake, it’s about the same level of angular as Geten’s, “You’d best not think your little campfire can melt my ice!” line, but the anime had Dabi shout his line, while Geten continued at the same unperturbed volume he’d maintained since the beginning.)

• As with Shigaraki’s first mass decay, the shot of Geten’s ice dragon did not make the impact on me in the anime that the manga did. I think it’s mostly the way the ice was colored? The claw’s pretty good, but the head looks blobby and indistinct, more like blue soft-serve than the shifting, sharp-edged, brilliantly bright sculpture-in-motion of the manga.

• Twice’s voice actor did his best to sell the scene of him finding Toga, but I wish they’d kept that tight close-up on his mouth when he says, “Give it up. The girl’s dead.” They animated him leaning closer to the camera, but that doesn’t have the sharpness of that sudden cut to being right there on his lips, like some malevolent thing is using them to speak words so terrible that they can’t even be associated with the rest of his face.

                                                          ---

Come back next time (and hopefully in less time) for Part Three, Episode 110: Sad Man's Parade.

FOOTNOTES

[1] We would, of course, have an even clearer idea of that had the anime not cut the scene of Spinner shouting in Shigaraki’s face.

[2] It seems particularly strange to me that Curious and RD both mention quirk evolution as a thing they know can happen in extreme circumstances, but didn’t predict that backing the League into a life-or-death corner might provoke one or two members to undergo exactly that evolution.

[3] Mount Lady is the obvious example, but you can look to places like the island in Heroes Rising, too: one hero, and when they retired, a group of high school kids had to go sub in for a while until a replacement could be arranged. It’s not like retirements just happen overnight; the Commission had to have known it was coming. Still, they had to scramble to find someone. It doesn’t suggest they had anybody just champing at the bit to take the post, you know?

[4] In Chapter 140, we see a young Tamaki Amajiki in a class called “quirk training.” It’s uncertain how connected this P.E.-like class is to quirk counseling, but Toga wouldn’t have been getting much help there, either, seeing as it’s all about figuring out how to use one’s quirk in a way that’s “useful to society.” I can think of some ways, but nothing that I expect would be very popular or liable to be explained to a grade schooler in a country with as long a history with ritual cleanliness as Japan. To a Shinto mindset, Transformation isn’t just off-putting or unhygienic; it’s spiritually unclean.

[5] The answer there being, no, obviously not, or Curious wouldn’t, in all apparent sincerity, be trying to characterize Toga using her quirk to murder people as an undesirable outcome, a cost society is paying for its current stance on quirk use. Yes, you can gather that much from her calling Toga a tragic girl, and Re-Destro concurring later, but listen, I will take every line I can get that I can use to push back against the wretchedly widespread idea that the kid whose name means Apocrypha is the be-all-end-all source on MLA ideology, somehow more reliable and trustworthy than every other MLA character combined, including Destro himself. I would very much like it if the anime had not deleted a bunch of my talking points while making good and sure to leave all Geten’s most damning lines intact.

[6] Not that an anime-only person would fully understand why some random reporter was all that valuable a resource, since the anime cut the explanation of what Curious actually does for a living.

[sincerelybubbles]

she’s the one || katsuki bakugou

summary: the three times katsuki bakugou almost kissed you, and the one time he did 

warnings: pining, mutual pining, resolved pining, cursing, drinking 

2.1k words

a/n: happy sunday, i had to take the opportunity to be cliché as fuck, sorry but not really

--

Katsuki Bakugou was not the type to like puzzles – he had exactly no patience for that. Life has enough problems, why the fuck would you add more?

And yet, here he was, trying to work her out, turning her words and actions around in his head over and over like somehow the puzzle of her would click if he just thought hard enough. And, the worst part, he was doing it because he wanted to; he wanted to figure her out, why she made his heart beat so fast when she smiled why he hung onto every word that left her lips – why was he so damn fascinated by those lips? He found himself memorizing the way they looked pronouncing every syllable – especially his name.

His name, something he never really considered, unless Deku was calling him by that dumbass nickname, and yet, here he was craving to hear it rolling off of her tongue.

“Ka. . . Katsuki-kun.” Correction – craving to hear it come out of those perfect lips, sober.

She flopped down next to him, giggling as she wobbled and caught herself on his arm and jostling the beer in his hand.

“Yes?” Katsuki turned his head, not even bothering to make his tone sound annoyed like he normally would, she wouldn’t remember tonight anyway.

“You haven’t sung yet.” She was talking too slow and too loud at the same time.

Katsuki let his eyes drag around the Karaoke bar that his friends dragged him to, spotting Mina and Denki singing a duet on the stage. He winced at their clashing voices.

“Not really my thing.” Katsuki told her, looking down at where her hand was still clutching his arm, debating if he should cut off her drinks before it was too late, and she blacked out completely.

“Just one song?” She pouted and Katsuki found his eyes locked on her protruding lower lip, tempted to lean the small distance forward and capture it in his own. He wondered how she would react.

She would probably kiss him back – he’d be lying if he said he didn’t notice her lingering glances and flirting comments. But then she’d hold Kirishima’s arm while walking and talk to him in whispered giggles, and Katsuki wasn’t so sure. Maybe he imagined her frequent smiles.

And, even if he was right, which he was about eight-four percent sure he was, he knew she deserved better. He had no idea how to spoil someone how she deserved to be spoiled. Hell, the only experience with girls he’d ever had were the few flings he had in college.

Even still, he found himself fighting the urge to close the distance, to take her still pouting lip in between his own, to kiss her until she was gasping and clutching at his shirt.

He refrained – she wouldn’t even remember tonight, and if she did, she’d count it as a drunken mistake.

“’Suki-chan?” She asked, and his heart pounded at the shortening of his name. It sounded to pure, innocent, casual rolling off her tongue.

“Fine, but you’re going up with me.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes.

She squealed and jumped up, grabbing his hand, and attempting to pull him up.

“One song.” He reminded her, standing only when she was nodding enthusiastically.

“One song!” She promised, holding out her pinky to him. She giggled when he hesitantly looped his pinky through hers, a slight blush covering his cheeks.

He followed her, of course he did. And when she asked to sing another duet after their first? Of course, he complied, relishing in the feeling of her eyes on him, her giggles only heard by him.

--

How dare she wear that. How dare she show up to this dumb ass event wearing that.

The skirt to her dress was surely missing a few inches, and the shoulder she was showing had him transfixed for much longer then it should have.

It was a simple barbeque; how dare she dress so cute. How dare she make him consider something cute.

Katsuki would consider himself a simple man. He typically only really looked at girls as people – obstacles in his way to the top – maybe once or twice on a lonely night as someone to fill his bed. Never as someone cute. He never listened so intently when someone talked, never was so willing to make someone smile. He never considered someone before himself, and yet here he was filling her a drink before he’s even made his own because her favorite drink happened to be nearly gone.

“Here.” He knew he startled her slightly as she jumped before taking the cup from his hand with a smile. He found it wasn’t hard to return it, before he leaned on the table beside her, sipping his own drink. He made a face at the sickly-sweet taste enveloping his tongue.

“Not your favorite?” She asked, and Katsuki realized his error.

“Shit, this was supposed to be for you, that ones mine.” He pushed himself off from the table, prepared to walk across the yard and find her another cup when hands much smaller than his own gently pried the cup from his hands.

“I figured.” She was giggling beside him, offering the cup in her hand to him. He took it, watching the drink she stole from him in her hands. Tracking its path as it made its way to her lips, watched as she took a slow sip and smiled at the sweet taste he grimaced at only moments before. He watched as her tongue peeked from behind her lips to catch any leftover taste. “Thank you, Katsuki-kun.”

It was all he could do to nod, swallowing and taking a sip from his own drink, fighting another grimace as he found it too bitter now.

He wondered if he pressed his lips to hers, would he mind the sweetness?

He let himself imagine, only for a moment, pressing his lips to hers, catching her cheek in his hand, titling her back and deepening it. He could almost hear her gasp.

“Let’s go dance!” She exclaimed, jumping up and throwing back the rest of her drink. Realizing he wasn’t copying her, she jutted one hip out and held her opposite hand out for him. “C’mon Katsuki-kun.” She fluttered her lashes. “You wouldn’t leave a lady to dance alone, right?”

“Ah, right.” He found himself saying, ignoring the small voice in the back of his head reminding him he hated dancing.

Dancing with her was almost unfair, he was allowed to put his hand on her hip, to draw her close, to feel her chest brush against his for a second, but she always wound up twirling away from him.

“You’re an awful dancer.” He observed, catching her as she almost fell again.

“And you’re shockingly good at dancing.” She rolled her eyes before placing her hands on his shoulders, applying pressure. “Although, you’re much too stiff! Relax, Katsuki-kun, dancing is about having fun.”

He rolled his eyes and looked away with a scoff to hide the blush creeping up his neck.

“Yeah, okay.” Why couldn’t he think of something better to say? Now she was quiet, although still smiling. He found himself looking into her eyes. She licked her lips, and he found himself mimicking the action.

They slowly twirled for a few moments, captivated. Katsuki could barely focus on the music enough to ensure that he was swaying to the right beat.

“See? You’re much relaxed.” Her breath fanned across his face, and Katsuki scoffed gently.

“Yeah, okay.” He forced his tone to be annoyed but knew that she saw through it. She always saw right through him. He expected her to call him out on his bullshit, like she always did, but instead she only smiled and pulled herself closer to him – oh God was she trying to kill him?

She tilted her chin up, and he was bending his neck down. Shit, she wanted this as much as he did, right? Her eyes were closing, and so were his. Her bottom lip brushed his upper lip and he fought a shudder forcing its way up his chest.

“Hey- oh!” Fucking shitty hair, Katsuki could kill him right now.

Katsuki listened as they talked and laughed. He fought to keep himself breathing through the rage forcing its way through his veins. In through his nose, out through his mouth.

She had stepped away, although her hand was still pressing into his forearm, holding him in place much closer to him then they usually stood.

“We were just playing ping pong.” Katsuki found it in him to look up at Kirishima, to act as if he had been listening. To act like the best chance he had to fulfil his fantasies hadn’t just been ripped away. “Do you want to go play a round?” And shit, she was just going to leave, and he was going to have to just stand here –

“Maybe in a bit, Katsuki and I were about to go get some food.” Then she was smiling and tugging him along. The lights around him were blurring. No worries, they were dull compared to her.

She brought him to a secluded area before turning around suddenly. His breath was caught in his throat at the repressed frustration written clear as day across her face. He waned to reach forward and capture her cheek with his hand, to hug her and make the look go away.

He pressed the thought down, annoyed at his own thoughts. Who the fuck was he to have such sappy thoughts? Plus, she was obviously upset with him. Chasing this stupid dream wasn’t going to get him anywhere, he needed to stop.

“You always look at me like you want to kiss me, why don’t you ever just do it?” Katsuki hesitated for a moment, taken aback by her words. He shoved his fists into his pockets and shrugged.

It was no use denying the fact, he didn’t think he was able to lie to her after nearly kissing her moments before.

“I didn’t want to assume.” It was one of the most honest things he had ever said, and it was completely true.

“Assume away.” She whispered, taking a step closer to him. He felt his eyes widen and instinctually, he took a step back.

“What? The fuck are you talking about?” He asked, angry that he was probably taking this all the wrong away.

“’Suki-kun.” Her voice was soft as her eyes searched his. She took a step closer and placed her hand on his chest. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. “It’s just me, you don’t have to act that way.”

He watched her with wary eyes as she intertwined her arms around his neck slowly. He found his hands making their way to her hip, the small of her back. He really didn’t want her to move, but he really didn’t want to be wrong.

Fuck, he really really wanted to kiss the breath out of her. He wanted to claim her in every way possible. He had a list longer than his arm of things he wanted to take her to see.

But none of it was worth loosing her entirely over a stupid fucking crush. He had to be sure.

“Kiss me.” She said, clear as a bell. She was close enough that he felt the words before he heard them.

Before he could even think, he moved the hand from her hip to her cheek and pulled her closer, tipping her head back and crashing his lips against hers.

He always swore to himself that if he ever got the chance to kiss her, he would be gentle. He would take his time. But he didn’t have the restraint, and found himself growing into the kiss, kissing her with a bruising force.

He swallowed her moans as he moved his tongue against hers, feeling as though he would never tire of the taste of her. She pulled away all too soon and pressed her forehead against his, breathing heavily. A few short breaths later she leaned forward to press a series of short kisses onto his mouth.

“Fuck.” He whispered.

While he had thought it before, this was the moment for certain that Katsuki Bakugou knew that he was hers. He would take anything she would give and knew he would be content with that. Sharing the same breath with her in this moment confirmed that.

He always thought being in love would make him feel weak, but in this moment, with her mouth reaching toward his again, he felt stronger than ever.

[starlightrows]

At The End of My Rope

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Tags: Angst, pain, hair pulling, biting, co parenting, insecurity, a bit of comfort, early stages of a new relationship

Summary: All kids go through difficult phases, just because Grogu is an old man baby, does not mean he doesn’t go through phases that drive his caregivers crazy

AN: Normally I tend to write Grogu like we see him in the show. Sweet disposition, a little cheeky and mischievous. But I wanted to try something a little different, I was inspired to take on this challenge by this post. I hope I did an okay job!

Din had bid you and Grogu farewell earlier in the day. Giving his son a gentle pat on the head, and you a hesitant but warm embrace. A newer development in your budding relationship. He promised he would com if this job took him longer than the usual 3 days. You weren’t too concerned, this was the set up after all. He hunts, you take care of the child and the ship. But this time was different. You knew you were in for a long couple of days when he refused to eat his favorite dinner. Grogu beat his little hands against the table, tossing away the plate of steamed vegetables and seared meat.

“You better not be getting sick mister,” you warned, mostly to yourself. His skin didn’t feel hot, and he didn’t seem to be having any symptoms of illness. But it was very unlike him to turn down any food, especially his favorite. You cleaned up the fallen bits of food from the floor, and attempted to offer him some of your dinner. But he smacked it away as well.

You sighed and gave him a ration bar. For some reason he was happy to devour that instead. You would have preferred he eat the fresh food. Ration bars are no substitute for fiber and natural vitamins, and even though Grogu outnumbered you in years he was still a growing boy.

After dinner, you put him on the floor on one of the soft blankets you had purchased for him, and tried to entice him into playing with toys or reading a story from the datapad. But he wasn’t having any of that either. He seemed to be disinterested in everything that normally amused him. The only thing that kept his attention now was throwing anything you offered him.

“I think it might be a good idea to have an early bedtime,” you grumbled after catching the datapad mere inches from the floor. Those things aren’t cheap and you’ve only got the one.

You began your evening routine with Grogu. Dimming the lights in the hull. Bringing him into the fresher to wash his face with a warm rag, and brush his six tiny little teeth. He never liked that part, so you tried to be quick about it.

“Ow!” You yelped, recoiling your hand. “Grogu! Not nice. Don’t bite” The bite wasn’t bad enough to break skin, but it sure did hurt for such a little creature. Grogu squeals with delight, apparently unaffected by your scolding and discomfort.

You took him back into the main area of the hull, and tried to place him down in his crib. That wasn’t happening either. The moment you put him down he shot right back up, and yelled for your attention. He had always been a troublesome sleeper, waking up at least two or three times a night. So you picked him up again, and began walking slowly up and down the length of the hull. Braced against your shoulder, and being bounced gently usually did the trick. But tonight, he couldn’t get comfortable. He cried and complained. And you just couldn’t figure out why. So you just kept walking up and down the hull. Over and over and over again, until your feet were numb, your hips ached, and your eyes began to droop.

Grogu finally seemed to be drifting off. You figured you’d be able to keep this up until he was fully asleep, then you’d be able to get some rest too. A quick glance at the chronometer jars you out of your rhythmic pacing... it’s nearly morning. You’d been pacing all night long. Grogu stirred at your shoulder, snapping you back to the present moment. You continued your walking, and he settled easily.

When you were sure he was fully asleep, you lowered him into his crib, and tucked him in. Without bothering to wash your face or even change out of your day clothes, you collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep.

It felt like not even a full minute passed before your eyes shot open again, Grogu was awake and howling for attention. He had managed to climb himself out of his crib, up the storage crates, and up further on to the wall of the crest and gotten himself tangled up in the cargo net attached to the wall. He was dangling from his foot, and wailing. You launched yourself out of bed, and went to disengage him from the netting.

“How did you even get up there?” You ask him. He just giggles and babbles, squirming to get out of your arms. Another glance at the chronometer tells you that the both of you had gotten at least a couple hours of sleep. But not nearly enough by your reckoning. Hopefully he would tucker himself out by playing and the two of you would be able to take a nap in the afternoon. But first, breakfast... another battle of throwing his food at the walls, spitting and crying.

“What’s with you lately?” You ask the little one “You love oatmeal with moon peaches,”

He whines in response. You shrugged your shoulders and took the bowl away from him. Defeated, you unwrapped another ration bar and gave to him. He happily munched on it.

“I know you’re like 50 something years old, but this absolutely has to be your species equivalent to the terrible twos,” you told him, trying to wipe some stray oatmeal from his face and ears. He tried to nip at your fingers again, causing you to pull up short.

“Hey!” You scold him “We talked about this. No biting, remember” He peered at your with those big dark eyes, and shoved the rest of the ration bar into his mouth. You shook your head, and continued cleaning the floor where he’d dropped his oatmeal.

The day dragged on, things got a little better after breakfast. He seemed a little more interested in his toys today, and was content to play mostly by himself. By the early afternoon he was getting cranky and definitely needed a nap. He crawled up into your lap, and whined for some affection. You placed the datapad to the side, and brought him up to rest his head on your shoulder.

“You done being a grouchy pants?” You whispered, patting his back gently “Wanna take a nap with me?” He whimpered out a quiet little response. You decided it would be better not to even get up, instead you leaned back against the wall and closed your eyes. You’ve napped in stranger places.

You woke up again sometime later to intense pain in the side of your head. Your eyes snapped open, and you yelped at the pain. Grogu had a fistful of your hair and was yanking with such ferocious intensity it scared you.

“Grogu! Let go! You’re hurting me,” you cried out. He didn’t seem to be awake yet, it wasn’t on purpose. You shook him as best you could, trying to rouse him from sleep.

His own little eyes snapped open and he gave a final yank. The searing pain intensified as he pulled out your hair. You shrieked in pain. Grogu released the larger chunk of hair still attached to your head. You could not help the tears welling up in your eyes or the pained moans escaping your lips.

You set Grogu down on the play blanket, he rolled over and went back to sleep. The strands of your pulled hair fell to the ground. You rushed off to the fresher to look at the damage. You were relieved to find that it wasn’t all that bad. True he has gotten a fistful to pull on, but he had only yanked out a tiny amount. And it bled a little. Still the pain was excruciating, and it scared you to think your sweet little boy could hurt you this way.

“It’s not his fault,” you reminded yourself. “He didn’t do it on purpose,” You wiped away the blood with a wet cloth, doing a rather haphazard job of it. You went back to Grogu, and did your best to pick up the hair he had plucked.

You hoped the remainder of his nap wouldn’t last too much longer so he would sleep tonight. But alas, luck was not on your side this week. He slept far too long, threw more food at dinner, cried while you bathed him and insisted on being rocked all night long... again. The one silver lining being, he fell asleep at least a little earlier than last night.

The morning came again, and things seemed to be better. He ate two full bites of his oatmeal before throwing it at you. But he ate all of the moon peaches. You decided to count that as a win. He played with you today, and seemed to want your affection. But he refused a nap and by the late afternoon he was getting grouchy and mean. It all came to ahead when he reached up for your datapad when you weren’t looking, and knocked off the edge of the storage crate you placed it on. The screen made an awful crunching sound, and you knew without even looking at it... it was toast.

Grogu was frustrated. He wanted to read stories, but the datapad wasn’t working. “It’s broken honey,” you tried to tell him “it won’t work. The screen is cracked... and there’s probably something else broken on the inside,”

He whined and complained, and just could not be consoled. It occurred to you that he hadn’t had the opportunity to play outside, or with others aside from you and Din in weeks. Maybe this was the reason for his misbehavior and frustration. Maybe if this job Din was on went well you could convince him to take a day or two off at park the ship on one of the safer planets he knew of to let the kid run around and blow off some steam.... but you also knew that he had to keep hunting, and it was your responsibility to keep the kid entertained and safe.

By the end of the night, Grogu was exhausted, not having taken his nap, and unwilling to cooperate. So you skipped washing his face and brushing his teeth. You didn’t even bother cooking dinner for him or yourself, you just gave him the ration bar you knew he would eat. He seemed content to get in his crib, but wanted you to sit by him and rub his back. Exhausted you sat down beside the crib and indulged him.

He’s gone through so much in his little life. And it’s not like human children don’t go through difficult phases. But you were at the end of your rope. Not sleeping or eating enough, you hadn’t showered in a couple days, your head still hurt a bit where he had pulled out your hair... you didn’t even want to think about what you looked like right now.

You wished Din was here. Not that you’d feel comfortable asking for help. He had his own responsibilities to take care of and figure out. But the two of you had grown close in the last few months. A few heated moments and admissions of deeper feelings, but you were both still trying to figure out what it all meant and how to proceed with one another. In this moment you just wanted him close by, if for nothing else another person to witness that you were doing everything you possibly could in this situation.

You fell asleep that night leaning up against the cradle, head bent at an uncomfortable angle and your jaw hanging slightly open. And that’s how Din found you. After pushing his quarry into the carbonite freezer, he was shocked and mildly horrified to see you in such a state.

Puffy bags under your eyes, hair in disarray, what looked like dried blood hastily wiped away on your neck and chin. Grogu on the other looked perfectly fine. Tucked up in his little bed, sleeping peacefully.

Din decided it would be best to take off and leave this planet first, safer in hyperspace. He went up to the cockpit to start the flight sequence. Next he removed all of his armor except the helmet and boots. He gingerly placed your arm around his neck, wrapped his arm around your torso and the other hooked under your knees. He lifted you off the ground, and carried you the short distance to the bed.

He checked you for wounds, the source of the dried blood. He was confused to find no injuries or markings. He would have to ask you about it in the morning.

When morning came you became aware of two things. First, you were warm.... very warm. Warm from being held all night by strong arms, against a warm body. Second, someone was screaming... immediately you bolted out of bed and left Din scrambling trying to figure out why you had moved with such urgency.

Grogu had once again climbed himself up the storage crates, and somehow gotten up even higher on the cargo net before getting stuck. You climbed up on the crate and pulled him down as carefully as you could. Din tumbled out of the bunk, and watched you.

“You have to stop doing that,” you told Grogu, trying to tuck back his whispy white hairs. Only for him to bite your finger, again! You yelped in pain, and retracted your finger. That bite was harder than the first time.

“Hey!” Din’s sharp voice cut through the chaos. You turned to face him, still holding Grogu. Din stuck his arms out to take him, you passed him over.

“Grogu. Did you just bite her?” He asked sternly. Grogu’s ears flattened out, looking guilty.

“We do not bite. You know better,” he scolded. He took Grogu over to the corner of the hull, farthest away from the galley, the bunk, and the storage crates; and set him down.

“Sit there,” he said “And don’t move,”

Grogu’s big eyes watered, as he watched Din walk away. You stood by the door of the fresher, watching this interaction. You turned away, ducking into the fresher when Din turned to you. He followed you.

“Hey” his voice was gentler now “are you alright?”

You tried not to look at him, keeping your back turned. You knew you looked awful, and were feeling extremely insecure about your parenting skills at the moment. So to keep him at bay you nodded your head, “Mhm, I’m fine,”

He took another step towards you, and caught your hand tugging gently. You knew you wouldn’t be able to hide forever, so you gave in and turned to him.

“It’ll be a couple hours before we get there. Why don’t you take a shower and have a little down time,” he said

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m okay really. I’m just a little tired and a little frustrated with this phase he’s in right now,” you replied. His thumb stroked lovingly across the back of your hand.

“You’ll feel better if you rest. He can come sit with me in the cockpit for while you shower and eat. When he goes down for his nap, I want to talk to you about why there’s blood on your neck,” he said carefully. He wanted you to rest, but he also needed you to know that he was worried.

You’re hesitant to accept. He still needed to fly the ship, and probably had to have a video com with Karga. And someone had to mind Grogu while he did those things. You must have taken too long to respond, or maybe he can really just see right through you because he kept speaking.

“You’re not a bad parent for taking a break and having time for yourself. And it’s not your fault he’s going through a phase,” he told you, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

You drew him in, needing to feel the pressure of his embrace. “Thank you,” you whispered. He rubbed your back. Before he pulled away to let you bathe and rest, he couldn’t help himself, he had to ask.

“Why is there blood on your neck?” His voice was measured and careful, he really wanted to know, but didn’t want to show how much he was freaking out over it.

You gave a somewhat hysteric laugh, “He yanked a clump of my hair out,”

“Stars! Are you okay?” He was utterly shocked, that was the last thing he would have guessed would come out of your mouth.

“I’m fine,” you shook your head “We really need to let him play outside. He’s got too much energy, and not enough stimulation in this bucket of bolts,”

Din shook his head, “Yeah, if he’s bored enough to pull out someone else hair, we definitely need to get him out for some fresh air,”

[blush-and-books]

high school au, pining, confession, car

i got two requests for this!!! so i hope it’s up to the hype. i always get carried away with hs aus. thank you anon!! ps. the song mentioned is chasing fire by lauv. a banger indeed. 

It was Luke’s automatic duty -- like breathing, or walking -- to drive Julie home after a gig. 

She was a new driver who was still uneasy about driving at night, and Alex would always end the night with Willie while Reggie and Flynn were always eager to delay their exit and have some more fun for a couple more hours. So when Luke got tired, and Julie and him found themselves hugging the walls of the venue or breathing heavily from a tiring set; it was customary for her to curl into the passenger seat while he pulled out of the alleyway or driveway.

It was also an excuse to spend 20 minutes alone with the beautiful girl, even if she would be half asleep sometimes when they drove home together. 

Once in awhile, she would sneak him inside and let him stay over. (But they weren’t dating or anything, obviously, because dating within the band was terrifying.)

((Only because Luke knew that Julie held his love for music in her hands. And he didn’t know what would happen if he gave her the rest of him, too.))

Tonight, they had just played a party thrown by Julie’s friend Carrie Wilson, who happened to be the cousin of their ex-rhythm guitarist -- but a gig was a gig, and a lot of their classmates were going to be there, so it was a deal they were quick to take. 

Following a six-song set and a lot of dancing, Luke felt a yawn crawling up his throat. Julie was standing off to his side, with her arm wrapped around his as if she were worried he was going to suddenly join the party and abandon her against the wall. 

But he would never. In fact, he only moved closer to her and leaned his head on top of hers that was resting against his shoulder. When she offers her bottle of water, he gladly wraps his hand around her wrist to lift the bottle to his lips and hydrate. 

“You wanna head out, Rockstar?”

Without even trying to yell over the music, she nods against his shoulder. 

Warmth filling his chest, he winds his arm around her shoulders and leads her into the entryway where the coat closet lies. Slipping on both of their coats, he is sure to wave at Reggie and Alex as he slips open the front door and holds it open for Julie; signalling their exit. 

Luke ignores the knowing grins he receives from his beloved bandmates, and slips his jean jacket over Julie’s thin sweatshirt after catching her hands rapidly rubbing up and down her arms to generate heat. 

“No, Luke, keep your jacket. It’s freezing out here.”

“I’m hot-blooded. You’re right, it’s cold, so you definitely need this.”

Pouting, she tightens the wrap of the jacket around her. “You should just let me suffer the consequences of my mistakes.”

Jumping in front of her, he opens the passenger door as if it is a ritual between the two of them. “That won’t happen if I can help it.”

Julie just rolls her eyes -- she truly, painfully, has no idea how honest he is being. 

Luke can tell she’s tired, so he does what he normally does and waits for her to start any conversation because he doesn’t want to push her. Soft music, Chasing Fire, plays through the speakers off of Julie’s playlist, and the lyrics seriously make Luke grip the steering wheel tight. 

I was driving you home in the middle of the night, but I couldn’t bring myself to say goodbye

What if he did that tonight? What if he just… Sat in the car, and told her he loved her, and waited to see how she would react?

It would be so stupid. But luckily, stupid is Luke’s middle name. 

“I love these drives,” Julie hums into the cold air, contrasting with Lauv’s voice. Her words fog up the window that she is resting her head against. “It’s so nice. Quiet, and dark, and just the two of us.”

Wow, she’s definitely exhausted. Sometimes Julie gets a little loopy and sentimental when she’s tired, but shit -- Luke’s heart pumps against his ribcage with a ferocity that can only be caused by Julie Molina. 

So, since it’s late, he’ll play her game. 

“Why do you think I always jump at the chance to drive you home?” Beat. “I just like spending time with you.”

“Really?”

God, does she really not know? Does she really not see it? 

Has he been letting her feel unloved all this time?

“I thought it was obvious, Jules,” he tries to smirk but it really just is a wince. “You’re like my favorite person.”

The girl in the passenger seat stays quiet, knees tucked into her chest despite the seatbelt because the seat has practically molded to her body at this point. She belongs there, next to him. 

“You’re mine,” he hears her sigh. It’s so quiet and is almost completely muffled by the sound of a passing semi truck, but he listens and he hears it. 

It shouldn’t be what puts him over the edge. 

But it is.

“You know I love you, right?” 

Finally, her head lulls to her left so that she can face him. If he was able to look at her longer, he would see her eyes shining as if she was about to cry -- but he has to keep his eyes on the road. “I love you too, Luke. You know that.”

“No, it’s-” His knuckles bleach around the wheel. “I’m in love with you.”

Again, more silence. Luke doesn’t chance glancing at her through his peripherals because he doesn’t want to see her disgust. 

He wishes so desperately that he could be looking at her, as focused on her as he is when they are on stage or at school or not in a car where their lives are in his hands. The quiet sinks into his stomach like a lead balloon, and he has just convinced himself that he’s ruined everything as he rounds the corner into her neighborhood, when-

“You’re in love with me? Actually?”

Luke scoffs. What kind of question is that? “It’s kind of hard not to be, Julie.”

The car rolls up in front of her house. He parks and turns the key in the ignition to turn it off, wondering if Julie is going to take the chance to run. 

She doesn’t. 

The second that he shifts to face her, he catches her face practically glowing -- she’s teary-eyed, but she’s smiling, and suddenly she is leaning across the center console and pressing her lips agsainst his with her soft hands on either side of his face. 

“I love you, too. But like, the way you mean it.”

It’s his turn to be shocked. “Really?”

God, her smile makes him want to kiss her senseless; but she beats him to the punch. He wants to push for more, but the chaste kiss she gives him before responding will have to do-

“It’s kind of hard not to, Patterson.”

Alex, Reggie, and probably even his parents would beg to differ. 

But none of them matter, because Julie is in front of him, and she loves him like he loves her. 

When she invites to sneak him inside as she has done many nights in the past, she holds his hand this time around -- and he eventually does get to fulfill his wish as soon as they reach her bedroom.

[justcourttee]

So you are one of my favorite writers for the Maribat Fandom and this is litterally like just on the edge getting ready to dive into barely there territory. . . but imagine Chloe "Queen B" Bourgeois deciding that Roy Harper is her future husband because he is the only one her age with the potential to even hyphenate Queen. She /will/ get her title in her civilian life if she has to drag Roy to the courthouse herself. Cue shenanigans and chaos friends to lovers lol

You’re so sweet and I hope I did your prompt justice. I love the Roy X Chloe energy and this is just something I could picture cannon Chloe trying. I hope you enjoy! @risaxtitan

The Future Mrs. Queen

The day Oliver Queen announced to the world in that fated press conference that he was adopting Roy Harper, the younger boy had no idea how much his life was about to change.

He was still floating on Cloud 9 as he stepped off of the stage and into the crowd where his friends awaited him.

“Dude, congrats! It’s like all official now!” Adrien clapped him on the back, causing him to stumble forward a little.

“It still feels unreal.”

“Tt, it’s not like your his blood son, but I suppose this will be a good opportunity for you.”

Roy cocked his head to the side as he tried to debate if Damian was congratulating him or not. A small smack echoed following an ‘oof’ as Marinette’s bright smile entered his view.

“I’m so happy for you Roy! Conner, Jon, and Wally wanted to come with us, but you know how it goes. Always a mission somewhere.”

Roy shook his head, the smile still plastered across his face.

“It’s fine Mari, it’s not like today was the real thing. This was just a press conference. They were there when we officially signed the papers and that’s what matters in my book.”

“So, like, is your last name officially Queen now?”

Roy’s attention snapped to his left where a familiar blonde stepped out from behind Adrien. She fiddled with the ends of her curled hair, her mischievous blue eyes locked onto his. Certainly if a beautiful girl like her had told him her name, he wouldn’t have forgotten it.

“I suppose so. It’s officially Roy William Harper-Queen.”

Her smile was blinding as he nervously reached back to rub the back of his very warm neck.

“Oh Gods, we are so dense! I’m sorry Roy! This is my friend Chloe Bourgeois! Adrien was supposed to introduce you two earlier, but we all got separated in the crowd. She’s a big fan of Oliver Queen, so when she heard my dear friend was getting adopted by him-”

“I just had to come.” She stepped in front of Marinette, reaching forward to grab his hand. “Did you know that I tried to legally change my name to Queen? But my mother wouldn’t let me! She’s ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. Something about it wouldn’t be good for my modeling career or whatever. But now, you can help me with that! Can’t be bad if it’s my husband’s last name.”

Roy stumbled out of her grasps, his entire face matching the red on his head.

“Hu-husband? Girl, we just met. You can’t go around saying things like that!”

Chloe waved off his embarrassment as her blinding smile pulled into a mischievous smirk.

“Like it or not Roy Harper-Queen, you will be my husband, even if I have to drag you to the courthouse myself!”

“Yeah right blondie.” He couldn’t help the stutter in his voice as he hid behind Damian’s chuckling figure.

There was no denying how attractive she was, but he would be damned if he let a pretty blonde step in and seal his fate.

“Maybe not today, but you’re going to love me Roy Harper-Queen, just you wait.”

The flip of her hair felt like a slap across his face as he watched her retreating figure dragging Marinette with her.

“So like, Can I be your best man? I know that you’ve known the other’s longer and all, but like we are always hanging out together! That has to count for something.”

Adrien’s wide eyes and pout earned a slight chuckle from the redhead as his eyes trailed back to where his friends stood.

“Sure Agreste, I’m sure everyone won’t mind one bit. You might have to fight Tim-���

“Tt, is that supposed to be a threat?”

Adrien and Roy shared a look before bursting into laughter. Roy slung his arms around the two boys as they headed off into the crowd. He wouldn’t see Chloe for another couple of weeks, but that didn’t stop the blonde from monopolizing his every thought.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“C’mon Arsenal, you really going to let your ass get beat by a little girl?”

Roy sneered as he pushed himself off the matt for the third time that day.

When Dick asked if he wanted to train with the Batclan, Roy was over the moon. Batman hardly let anyone into his special training spot without him being there. He didn’t think twice when he put the motorcycle in park outside of Wayne Manor. He already knew what to expect, Dick’s flexibility, Stephanie’s strategy, Damian’s rage. What he wasn’t expecting was to see a certain blonde and his two friends.

“She’s not beating my ass Stephanie, I just don’t want to hurt her.”

Dick had a hard time holding back his laugh as he leaned on Marinette for support. A hand shot into his line of view as he accepted Chloe’s helping pull him the rest of the way to his feet.

“C’mon mon chéri, your face is pretty too, but it’s not going to make me pull my punches. Give it to me, cherry.” She sent a wink in his direction as she set up for another spar.

If you asked Roy later, the red in his cheeks was from the anger at being called a cherry, but anyone could see the blush betraying him.

Chloe darted forward, dodging his first swing before smacking his butt.

“HEY!”

Roy pushed himself out of her reach as Stephanie and her shared a fist bump. There was no way he was getting out of training alive. He needed a way to finish this as quickly as possible.

“Blondie, what if we make a bet?”

Chloe raised her eyebrow at him, encouraging him to continue as she set herself back up in the circle.

“The next one of us to pin the other gets to pick the next hang out spot. I know it’s your turn in the rotation, so if you win, nobody will put a restriction on your choice.”

Her eyes glistened dangerously as a collective gasp sounded behind them.

“Hey, Roy, are you sure you want to do that? She-”

“Shut it Agreste. The boy has named his terms, no restrictions for me, or he gets to steal my turn. I’ll gladly accept Ginger.”

A sudden shift in the atmosphere was easily noticeable. Inadvertently, a shiver went down his back as every hair on his body stood in high alert. Her first strike was quick, he barely lifted his arms up in time to block it before she had hopped backwards, ready to hit again.

He thought he was the one holding back before, but clearly he was underestimating. Here she was, no longer holding back, toying with him as if he was nothing more than her prey. It was a bit terrifying.

Just as he extended his arm to try and make contact, Roy suddenly found himself on his back, her knee at his throat.

“God, when did you even knock my feet out?”

Her eyes were dancing with humor as she slowly stood, offering her hand to the boy below.

“We tried to warn you, my friend. Chloe doesn’t do competition, she destroys them.”

Adrien offered his hand as well and together the two blondes heaved him to his feet. Marnette shook her head solemnly as she and Dick mock prayed for Roy’s fate.

“So, no restrictions huh? That means overseas is fair game.” Chloe placed a hand gently on Roy’s shoulder sending a chill down his spine. “Guess tomorrow, we are going to Paris, France. Richard, is there a Zeta-Tube that does overseas?”

Dick finished his mock prayer before sending a nod in her direction.

“Perfect. Marinette, tell your little gloomy boyfriend and Timothy that we will be taking a day trip tomorrow, to the city of love.”

She sent a wink to Roy as she stepped out of the rink to grab her towel. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t ignore the racing in his heart all from one little comment.

“You are falling so hard, my friend!” Roy flinched as Dick threw his arm over his shoulder, sharing a fist bump with Adrien.

“I am not! I barely know her! We’re like acquaintances, at most she’s just a friend.”

Adrien stiffened as he bit back his laughter.

“Just you wait, after tomorrow, you’ll be questioning everything you know.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Roy was indeed questioning everything, like his sanity, as he stepped out of the tube and onto the tallest platform of the Eiffel Tower. Taking a quick step back from the edge, he found himself pressed against the cool metal.

“Isn’t it like illegal to be this high up?”

Chloe’s giggle filled the air as she smacked his arm lightly.

“Of course it is, for normal people that is. We can’t just have everyone using the Zeta tubes ginger.” Her fingers curled into his hair as she gave it a light ruffle.

“Tt, man up Harper. Even if you fall, it’s not like you’d hit the ground before someone here saved your sorry ass.”

A small ‘oof’ echoed from where Damian stood as Marinette stepped out of the tube.

“You didn’t even hear what I said!”

“True,” she shrugged, a smug smile pulling at her lips. “But I assume you were making fun of Roy.”

Damian huffed under his breath as he snaked his arm around her waist, drawing her into his side. Roy was never sure how someone like Damian could have landed a sweet angel like Marinette, but if it meant he had a constant guardian angel, he could care less.

“Where’s Adrikins?”

“He said, and I quote, ‘I don’t want to be a third wheel and neither does Tim.’”

Chloe rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide the sparkle from the new information.

“Looks like it’s a double date!” She gripped Roy’s arm pulling him from his safety. “You wouldn’t leave me alone to those two annoying lovebirds would you Harper?”

Roy gulped nervously as his eyes darted between the couple and the blonde hanging off of him. With a sigh of defeat, he nodded, allowing her to pull him closer to the edge.

“I hope you’re ready Harper because if you survive today, there’s no way you won’t fall for me.”

Without warning, Chloe used all her strength to push him off the platform. The scream caught in his throat as the wind rushed past him. Some first date! Here she was trying to kill him within the first five minutes!

A flash of yellow flew past him, catching his attention briefly before an arm yanked him out of midair. This time, the scream managed to slip out, but instead of fear, he felt instant relief as he flew through the air pinned to Queen Bee’s side.

“There was an easier way of doing this Chloe!” He tried to shout over the wind but it felt useless. The only indication that she might have heard his pleas came from the sideways smile she flashed him as the came to a halt in an alleyway.

As his feet touched to ground, his legs instantly gave out. On his hands and knees, Roy reassured himself that this was safe, in solid ground. Moments later, a flash of pink blinded him as Marinette and Damian landed in front of him.

“What’s wrong Harper? You look a little green. I thought that was Oliver’s color.”

Roy’s middle finger only seemed to fuel the egotistical smirk Damian bestowed on him.

“If that was too much, I can’t wait to see how you handle the rest of the day.”

His eyes widened as he tried to imagine what could be worse than freefalling a few hundred feet from the highest structure in Paris. Little did he know, he would soon get his answer.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Bourgeois.” He tried to keep his voice steady as he offered his hand to her, but the condescending stare made him want to crumble.

“What do you expect me to do? Shake your hand? Honey, you may have been adopted into money, but you are not money. I do not touch any person that is worth less than I am.”

She turned her back briskly as Roy slowly dropped his hand, unsure of whether to be insulted or not.

“Mom, Roy is my friend, can’t you be nice?”

Her mother’s cold glare rested on Chloe. Roy had no idea how she managed to stand her ground. He wanted to crumble for her.

“You are lucky I let you into my workshop after you have missed the past three fittings. When I said you could move to America with the Marianne kid, I expected you to still make time for the business. Should I begin looking for your replacement?”

The tension between the two of them was deadly. Roy wanted to step in, tell her mother to back off, that Chloe was a hero who didn’t always have time for fashion, but somehow, he figured it would only make it worse.

“No mother, I am here now am I not? Let us work quickly so that I can return home.”

Her tone was icy as she stepped forward, holding out her arms for her mother to remeasure. Roy shifted from foot to foot as he held back his tongue. Her mother commented on her weight gain, complained that she was going to begin to fat to be her model anymore. She commented on her studies, or lack of, and on her being a class d hero compared to Superman.

It was to quietest he had ever seen Chloe Bourgeois.

“If that will be all mother, Roy and I have to meet up with Damian and Marinette.”

Her mother waved her off. Not a single love you, not even a real goodbye. Roy was sure his face matched his hair by the time they had set foot back into the streets.

“So, Mari’s parent's house isn’t too far from here. Wanna swing over?”

It was as if a switch flipped. Back was the flirty social butterfly that he had gotten to know over the past couple of weeks.

“Chloe.”

“C’mon carrot top, swinging really isn’t a bad way to transport. It’s quick and effective.”

“Chloe.”

“Don’t be a chicke-”

“Chloe.”

He hadn’t meant to raise his voice, but he knew what she was trying to do.

“Chloe, why do you let her treat you like that?”

Her lips were pressed into a tight line as she turned, taking a step away from the building.

“Chloe, you don’t have to pretend that it didn’t happen. I’m not going to tell anyone, it’s just, the Chloe I saw in there is nothing like the one I’ve come to know.”

“Well, maybe all you know is a lie.”

Her voice was quiet as she took off at a brisk pace down the street. It took Roy a second to process before he took off after her. Gently, he pulled her arm until she came to a stop once more.

“Then let me get to know the real Chloe. After all, I can’t marry someone I don’t know!”

She laughed half-heartedly at his joke, her smile weak.

“She isn’t very good with her emotions and neither am I. I know that she cares, hell, she wouldn’t let me explore this hero side of me if she didn’t think I had potential. But she always puts business first. I never wanted to go into business with her because she can’t separate family and employees. But I need the money. Daddy won’t let me touch my trust fund until I am secure on my own.”

Roy nodded, a number of things falling into place.

“Why don’t you work for Oliver or Bruce like the rest of us?”

Chloe shrugged, her fingers absentmindedly reaching for his.

“They have offered before, but I really feel like the way to her heart is through the family business. I know she wants to leave it to me one day and if I abandon it now, she might reconsider, and honestly, that would hurt her more than me. She’ll never say it to my face, but it would mean the world to me if I could be her legacy.”

A moment of silence passed, and then two as Roy admired the determination that crossed her face. Somehow, it made her more beautiful than she already was. He hadn’t even noticed how close they had gotten until a soft cough snapped him back to reality.

“Well, we only left you for like two hours. Is this a new development?”

Marinette and Damian shared a smirk as Chloe dropped his hand as if it was burning her. She tried to pull up her scarf, but it was too late. The red on her cheeks were burning, matching his he was sure.

“I don’t know what you are referring to Dupain-Cheng. Let’s head back to the tower. A certain blonde must feel my wrath.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

As Roy laid in bed that night, his thoughts kept wandering back to that moment.

She was so close, her lips were so close, so full, so red. They were drawing him in and if Marinette hadn’t stopped them..

“Ughh,” he buried his red face into his pillow, willing his pounding heart to still.

He rolled over to where his phone sat, the dark screen bugging him. Not a single text from her after they returned, not even one from Marinette or Damian teasing him. Reaching out, he lifted the phone toward his face.

Clicking on his photos, the most recent one lit up his entire screen, sending his heart into another fury. Chloe had borrowed his phone, leaving several adorable selfies that he only found a couple hours later.

Not that he wanted to admit it to anyone, but maybe he could admit to himself that just maybe, he was already head over heels for Chloe Bourgeois.

Just as he moved to place it back onto his charger, a text message pinged.

‘Still awake carrot top?’

Roy couldn’t help the smile that tore across his face.

‘Depends. Whose asking blondie?’

‘You’re ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. Now open your window, my arm is getting tired.’

Instantly, Roy shot up as he opened his window. Looking around, he couldn’t find her. He was ready to close it when his instinct told him to look up. Sure enough, Queen Bee sat dangling, motioning for him to move out her way.

With one great heave, Chloe swung into his room, dropping her transformation before her feet even touched the ground.

“Miss me that much?”

The sound of his own voice was foreign as his wide smile was certain to leave his cheeks sore in the morning.

“Oh don’t get full of yourself Harper. I just wanted to thank you for today.”

“Mhmm, this seems mighty personal for a thank you.” He took a step forward, his stomach flipping multiple times.

“I may have also wanted to see you. After all, no text, no call. How is a girl supposed to feel after you almost kiss her?”

She stepped forward closing the gap between them, the smirk on her face as graceful as ever.

“I could say the same thing about you. Running off to another man after spending a day in the city of love with me?”

Hestitanly, he raised his hand to cup her cheek, basking in the feeling of how soft her skin felt against his palm.

“Harper, I want to be to future Mrs.Queen, so what do you say? The courthouse is still open in Paris, we can go right now.”

Roy couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. Gently, he stroked the side of her cheek, admiring her every feature. Leaning forward, he heard her breath hitch in her throat right as their lips were a mere inch apart.

“How about we start with a first date? A real date?”

Chloe’s warm breath tickled his lips as his pounding heart awaited her answer.

“I suppose Mrs. Queen will have to wait, I’ll pick you up, tomorrow Harper. Be ready.”

Just as quickly as he leaned in, she lept back, already calling her transformation. Racing to the window, she looked over her shoulder, blowing him a kiss before slinging away. Hesitantly, he approached the window, watching her retreating figure, his heart still racing a million miles a minute.

It started off a soft chuckle, but it soon grew. With a grand smile, Roy returned to his bed, his thoughts all centered around one blonde. Marriage was sounding less and less like the scary thought he had when he first met her. He wasn’t sure the exact moment that it sounded so good, but he didn’t care.

After all, Chloe Harper-Queen had a nice ring to it.

Permanent Tag List:

@ash-amg @rebecarojas07 @heaven428 @long-lost-peace @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @moongoddesskiana @nach0ava @iamablinkmarvelarmy @seraphkitty @clumsy-owl-4178 @pawsitivelymiraculous @mialuvscats @leagrey @smolplantmum @animegirlweeb

[bangbangchanie]

NCT 127: Soulmate au Senarios

Hey so we’re back!! Admin Whinnie here we’ll be The tiktok soulmate trend really got to me lol, decied to drive in deep and do all 23 memebers!! So keep and eyes out for NCT Dream, WayV and a NCT U verision for the two newest memebers!! 

Taeil:

“내 목숨보다 소중한 그댈 보내지 못해” Your voice sang, making a smile curl up on his face, the image of you singing along to his voice as you got ready for your date. The idea of you, harmonizing with him nodding his head as he starts to sing back, making you giggle half way through.

“Hyung you’re missing lines.” Doyoung chuckled, making Taeil stop as he smiled at him, making Doyoung raise an eyebrow as he chuckled.

“She's singing my song...so I decided to sing with her.” His words had Doyoung's smile drop, fascination spreading through his eyes as he stared at him. “I love singing with her like this, I can hear her laugh as she sings, it..it gets me through this. Sometimes when we’re on tour I’ll hear her scream back at your guys parts but she's always quiet during mine.” He shakes his head as he adjusts his top waiting for your message that you were ready to be picked up.

“Why's that?”

“Cause she says my voice is her favorite, and it's the only part of the song she can hear when we’re on tour.” He laughs as Doyoung follows.

“I can’t wait to meet mine..I don't hear them very often so I wonder what it's like.”

“It's like...like magic..that's the best way to explain it.”

Johnny:

“Hey,hey, hey you you I don't like your girlfriend…” A voice rang out in Johnny's  head, making a smile spread across his face, he couldn’t help but chuckle as your voice rang through his head. The idea of you jamming out in your shared bedroom had his cheek turning red as he looked to see Mark and Ten staring at him. “No way no way, I think you need a new one!”

Your off tone pitch made him shut his eyes as he let out a laugh making Marks eyes widen as he looked at the older.

“She is absolutely horrible.” His laughter made Ten and Mark follow as Marks hand slams onto the table they were sitting at. Their laughter had Johnny's eyes snapping as he huffed at the two and glared playfully.“Only I can laugh at her and her singing… her horrible singing. God I love her.”

Taeyong:

“We're the new heroes!”  Was shouted in his head, followed by a crackled cough making his eyes widen as he blinks rapidly. The sweat dripped down his face as he looked at the makeup artist who was dobbing the sweat off of his skin as Ten performed his stage.

“They're here” He whispers, making them stop as he sees Kia stop and turn his head over to him. “They're singing Tens song. They’re singing Ten songs..they're screaming. They're here.”

“Tae..thousands of people are here.” Kia sadly sighed making Tayong let out a huff as he felt tears gother up in the condor of his eyes.

“My soulmate is in this building, I can hear them. But I..no I have..” He felt a hand on his shoulder making him look to see Taemin, a small smile on the olders faces as he squeezed Tayongs shoulder. ”Hyung they're here, I could..I could see them..hold them tonight.”

“I know.” Tamin said as Tayong felt something press under his eyes, they were whipping his tears away. Cause even though you were in the building, there was no way he could get to you.

Jaehyun:

“Now suddenly you're asking for it back. Could you tell me, where'd you get the nerve?” The sound of your voice entered his mind as his eyes opened, staring at wall, the sound was full of pain. The cracks in your voice had his heart hurting, as his hand ran through his hair. His mind rushing with a lot of scenarios, but one, one kept playing over and over.

Someone hurt you. Someone took your heart, your love and threw it in your face.

It made anger rush through his chest as he sat up and took a deep breath, hand grabbing his phone as he looked through his music app.

“Took a while, I was in denial when I first heard. That you moved on quicker than I could've ever, you know that hurt.” He heard a sob making his heart lurch, pain spreading through him as he dropped his phone. God did he wish he could just hold you, wipe your tears, kiss the top of your head. Promise he would never let go. Never break your heart. Never leave you. And how he’d work to prove that to you. So he went over to his piano, sat down, and started to play a song that he can’t wait to sing to you in person.

“I'm so in love with you And I hope you know Darling, your love is more than worth its weight in gold”

Doyoung:

Doyoung sat there, his eyes closed as he nervously stared at the camera in front of him, comments began scrolling rapidly as the staff behind him nodd. Encouraging him to sing the song he planned to cover during this live. He rolled his lip between the teeth as he smiled brightly at the screen.

“Um so I’ve been wanting to cover a song for a while now..one that means a lot to me and probably a lot of you..I hope you guys like it.”He paused as he started to play the keys, his eyes closing as he took a deep breath and let the song pass his lips. “How can you miss someone you've never met? 'Cause I need you now but I don't know you yet ,But can you find me soon because I'm in my head? Yeah, I need you now but I don't know you yet.” he let out a breath as he continued, hearing you slowly hum the song back, making his eyes water as he looked at the screen and smiled. The next verse finished in his head making him pause as he let out airy chuckle as he looked to the live. The comments went crazy, especially as he kept playing the song but missed the last verse. One sticking out.

His soulmates finishing the song for him, has to be, he nodded slowly as he listened to your voice.

“Yeah, lately it's been hard,They're sellin' me for parts,And I don't wanna be modern art,But I only got half a heart to give to you,And I hope it's enough.”

“I need you now but I don't know you yet.”

Yuta:

His eyes stare up at the moon, standing outside in the balcony of yet another hotel room as he felt tears gother in his eyes. Four mouths, without you near him factimes and long distance calls though he misses your touch most of all. The feeling of the burn that ran around the ring of his eyes had him sniffling as he looked down at his hands when he heard your voice. “'Cause I never knew, I never knew,You could hold moonlight in your hands 'Til the night I held you You are my moonlight,Moonlight.” He felt his hand slightly shake as he let out a chuckle, that stupid Ariana Grande song that you sang every day since he met you. “I kiss his fingertips,As I'm wishing he's all mine.” He let out a breath as he closed his eyes and rested his head against the brick wall.

“Baby, I be fallin',You're my moonlight, Moonlight.” he paused as he heard you chuckle , he imagined you smiling brightly up at your bedroom ceiling. Or staring at your phone waiting for a call. Waiting for him. So he did just that.

“Hey moonlight, I missed you.” Your voice traveled quickly to his ear as he saw a static version of you on his screen. In one of his sweaters, probably sitting at your desk, getting ready to do an online class.

“I miss you too.”

“I was trying to sing you to sleep but I guess it just kept you awake instead.”

“I like this better anyway.”

Jungwoo:

“ Baby 네게 반해버린 내게 왜 이래 두렵다고 물러서지 말고 그냥 내게 맡겨봐라 어때 my lady.”Jungwoo's eyes suddenly widened as he looked up from his food, his mouth stopping mid chew as he let out a whine. Jaehyung let out a snort as he watched the younger struggle once again.“Ring ding dong, ring ding dongRing diggy ding diggy ding ding ding”

“Im literally gonna kill her, this is the fifth time today she sang this song.” Jungwoo let out dropping his chop stick with a frustrated breath. “Why can't she get one of our songs stuck in her head, like I can block that out easily but no she does this. I'm gonna kill her when I meet her.” He let out as Jaehyung's eyes stayed wide , watching as they usually claimed Jungwoo lost it. “I mean I'll squish her in a hug, but this come on”

“Jungwoo..ring ding dong, ring di-hey that was the last dumpling!”

Mark:

Mark eyes trail across the thousands of green light sticks, the sea of fans had his heart beating out of his chest. Some faces were caught with the right lighting but there truly was only one face he wanted to see and that was yours. He wanted to hear your voice. But he knew he had to wait. Wait till he was back in his hotel room, so the two of you could sing together  as he laid in bed eating his meal while you were at home doing school work. So far away, yet your connection brings you close together. Closer than he ever thought you could be.”I just want you to knowThat I really, really think you're something special Wanna try hard to show Make it sweet, sweet, sweet wherever we go.” He heard right as they did their final bow, making him smile as he started to hum to tone back to you. Wanting to wait to sing your song aloud when he was alone in the room since Yuta ws going to do a vlive with Johnny tonight. He couldn't wait to sing for you.

“Just to have you baby, by my side Love would be the only rule You're gonna see, baby, how hard I can try None will ever do so well Like a load of farming, fairy tale.” He sang back as he was changing, it was softly a whisper tone, but Hechan had caught it, a teasing smile on his face as Mark tried to shake his head but Hechans teasing had already slipped past his lips.

“Someone in loveeee.”

“Shut up you idiot.”

Heachan:

Taking a deep breath in, you rub your eyes, the memory of the heated argument you had with your boyfriend, your soulmate Donghuck made your chest ache. The words he had said to you had cut you deep, had made you question if the universe really did make a mistake parking the two of you. You know he didn't mean the words, at least not fully. His face had etched itself into your mind the way it changed when he realized what he had said. The way you had taken a step back, arms curling around you as you let out a soft whine when he reached for you. Rushing away from the practice room you had bothered him in.

“And I know there's no making this right, this right And I know there's no changing your mind, your mind. But we both found each other tonight, tonight.” His voice rings through your head making you pout as you feel tears build up in the corner of your eyes, the heels of your hands push up against your eyes as you slowly snag along with his voice.

“If love is nothing more than just a waste of your time..then waste it on me waste it on me.” You whispered, your eyes closing as you heard his voice trail off then a knock on your apartment door had you sitting up and rushing to open it. There he stood, eyes staring down at you as he pulled you into a hug.

“I love you.”