#OR you can also answer this and send it to me

[timmydraker]

On Tim’s nineteenth birthday he had a party with his friends and had chosen to celebrate it at a karaoke bar.

Kon, Cassie and Bart are there in civilian clothes and identities and so are Tim’s old school friends as well as come of his college’s kids, as well as Tam.

Everyone is having fun and while they have alcohol I drinks available, everyone is being mindful to not send it to hard due to Tim only just agreeing to drink before he’s legal.

Naturally, a few of them get competitive and Ives ends up becoming a judge for who wins in certain face offs.

It’s all fun and games until Kon points out that Tim had been spending most of the time taking photos of other people, though admittedly a fair amount are selfies, and insist on everyone watching Tim perform and filming it.

Tim, who’s used to having lots of eyes on him quickly goes from bashful to scheming and everyone gets the performance of their lives.

Tim wakes up with a mild hangover, (hes a good boy who made sure to drink water and eat a lot), and around a dozen missed calls from various family members. He feels out at first before he sees his latest text is from Stephanie saying ‘Handsome and rich and you can sing? Urg why did we break up again?’ She hadn’t been able to make it due to a break out but promised to make it up to him and she always did.

Attached is a link to a TikTok from an account he knows for a fact is one of his friends.

It’s him, standing on the stage with his big pink feather shall, black dress shirt open with glitter visible on his collar bones and a large jacket that defiantly isn’t his likely hanging over his arms. In the video Tim is swaying around happily, cheekily even, while singing ‘I Am A Good Girl’ by Christina Aguilera from Chicago and sauntering around as if he himself is playing her role.

Tim’s face isn’t all that flushed and part of him wishes that wasn’t the case if only because it shows he was sober enough to be fully aware of what he was doing, which is unfortunately true.

Tim is confident in his public appearance and knows how to handle any backlash, it’s the text from his family that are going to make him crawl into a hole and die.

Dick: Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, why are you at a club?

Dick: there better not have been alcohol

Dick: also, unimportant and totally not the most important thing, WHY DIDNT YOU INVITE ME 😭

Damian: You look like a fool, Drake. Alfred has been muttering about Father being a bad influence and is threatening my to kick him out.

Damian: I cannot be sure, but I belive I heard Alfred say ‘your playboy ways better not be swaying that boy to be a nuance like you, young man’.

Damian: Fix this.

Stephanie: ‘why you in the club with people wildin’

Stephanie: get it

Stephanie: like the Meghan the Stallion song?

Jason: why the fuck are you at a club

Jason: don’t think I didn’t see that vodka raspberry in your hand

Jason: answer me you little shit

Jason: I swear to go if you were in crime ally I will loose it

Duke: dude Bruce has such a big worry frown I think I heard a muscle snap

Duke: you’re a really good singer though

Duke: good song choice for a rich brat lol

Duke: that was meaner than I meant for it be sorry!

Duke: still true tho

Cass: drink lots of water and I’ll bring you bat burger in the afternoon xx

Bruce: I’m not angry, you haven’t done anything wrong, but did you have to sing a song about being a rich girl when people complain about us being out of touch enough as it is?

Bruce: I’m not mad though.

Bruce: have you drunk water?

Bruce: also did I see Conner Kent there?

Bruce; why was he there.

Bruce: does he understand the dangers of drinking as a Kryptonian?

Bruce: again, I’m not mad at you, just concerned.

Bruce: I’m mean in a little mad but not because Alfred is yelling at me.

Bruce: you know the Brucie Wayne persona was a farce, I have no doubt about that, but that doesn’t mean you need one.

Bruce: not that you can’t have a good time!

Bruce: please answer Dick is yelling at me now too

Damian: Grayson is now yelling at Father.

Damian: He has called him a whore but I believe that had nothing to do with your provocative dancing. I think he just wants to call father a whore.

Jason: I found the bar.

Bart: heyheyheyheyheyhey! Barry said to warn you that Bruce is making everyone do a course on teaching your kids to be alcohol safe and that even the ones who aren’t parents have to do it too lollolololololol

Jason: I was going to get do something but the woman owning it kept talking about how nice you all were so I feel bad

Dick: I mean you didn’t have to invite me I know it’d be weird to have a 27 year old there but that’s not that old!

Alfred: I shall be around shortly with adequate food. Be ready.

Tim was in for it that was for sure, especially when he saw ‘Tim Drake’ and ‘Thristtrap’ trending.

[aestherin]

I CAN SEE YOU

track 10: galaxies

’Maybe fan fiction writers were actually onto something.’

That was the only thought going on your mind once you fully processed that your favorite singer was now driving you home, in his well-kept Aston Martin, on his passenger seat.

”Have you replied to my manager yet?”

”Yeah,” you reply as you scroll through your phone. “I just did what you told me, with a few tweaks.”

”And the tweaks are?”

”Well, I don’t want to send him a complete lie, you know. I’m not comfortable with that.” You inwardly wince as you recall the huge lie of a persona you’ve been living. Whether it was your ‘[Name] persona’ or your ‘Sky persona’ that was a lie, you could not tell. “So I just said: Yes, we’ve been talking.”

Scaramouche grins. “Smart.”

It was a witty answer, he admits. You two have indeed been talking. It isn’t at all a lie, but it also isn’t the full truth. You two have been talking, yes. But not about what you should be talking about.

And truthfully, Scaramouche couldn’t care less.

His songs stem from his life. And his life was at rest. 

Before you — the recent enigma that had struck him.

”By the way,” he breaks the silence. Though there wasn’t really any because he obliged you to play your playlist in his car. You didn’t play your own because God forbid he finds out right now that his full discography is in every single one of your well-curated playlists. “How did you even get to the park with all of the stuff you have? Especially that canvas.”

”Oh, I booked a cab because I had a lot of things!”

He hums in acknowledgment before once again glancing at the navigation app that now leads to your place.

‘The heck?’

He stops over to the side. You give him a puzzled look, seemingly still unaware of the reason behind his skeptic glare. “Are you sure this is the right address?”

You slightly lean over, face hovering closer to the screen. “Yeah, why? If you don’t want to go there, I could get off and book a cab, I don’t mind.”

He shook his head. “No, no. That’s not a problem for me. What I mean is, you gave me the address of a hotel.”

“Yes, I did.”

“You said you were staying here in Inazuma for three months.”

”Yes, I am.” 

“You’re staying here—“ he sternly points at the address flashed on his car’s screen. “—for three months?”

You suddenly felt the need to hide — though your knitted sweater wasn’t doing you any wonders like a blanket would — because yeah, that does sound a little too lavish. A five-day stay in that hotel might even amount to a month’s worth of rent!

You turned your head away. And to Scaramouche, it seemed that suddenly, the trees outside looked a lot more interesting to you than him. He frowned.

“I’m not planning to…” You whispered. If he didn’t lower the volume of his speakers, the song would’ve drowned your voice. “...but I just haven’t found a place to stay yet that allows me to lease only for three months…”

“Yeah, that’s kind of a weird term.”

“Mhm.”

His sudden silence felt a little too loud for your liking. Curious, your gaze found its way back to him, only to see that his was focused on the steering wheel.

‘What in the world is he thinki–’

“Say, how much are you thinking to pay for rent?” 

“Huh? Oh! I’m… financially comfortable so —”

His lips slightly parted in realization. “Right. Your family. Plus, you’re a well-known artist.”

Oh.

‘He knows my family.’

‘He probably thinks I’m like them, too.’

“Well,” he says as he starts to gear up again. “If you want, I could probably refer you to my landlord. My sister leased for like two months last time when her house was being renovated, I think he could do the same for you this time.”

Your eyes visibly twinkle at his words.

And for a moment, Scaramouche swore he was seeing galaxies.

Until he forcibly blinks himself out of his stupor. 

I CAN SEE YOU — scara x reader smau

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TAGLIST I (closed)

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[brixbraxium]

I think the funniest thing about the Mike room is the fact that literally everything the Green Pippins says is true. Like, haha, yeah! look at all the silly parodies of the fan theories! Isn't it crazy how we all made such a big deal out of Mike when he wasn't really that important? Except... Who is he, actually? It's still unexplained. And the Mike room even gives us new pieces of evidence that make the whole thing even weirder. Like, Tenna's known mike "Since TV World":

Which presumably, judging by this vague shuttah dialog implying a massive shift in the landscape:

Means "Ever since Tenna was bought and installed in the Dreemurr Residence", right? But that'd be... well before Tenna met Spamton, since he only met Spamton after Kris and Noelle brought the laptop home:

So unless this happened literally like immediately after the TV was purchased, it seems that Mike isn't, for instance, a Spamton thing Tenna is trying to emulate. But it also can't really be the other way around, because Tenna clearly doesn't know anything about Mike? He gets fooled by three entirely different impostors, and gets pissed if Mike isn't there in his room. Which seems really weird if Tenna is actually in the know. None of the people in TV World have ever seen Mike. AND YET!!!! Spamton is VERY insistent that he knows something they don't;

And this answer is EXTREMELY WEIRD when you think about it, because, while right now it kinda seems like this was foreshadowing for the Mike Room... That doesn't really make sense? In September 2024, CHAPTER 4's main content was completed:

And yet, Pluey- which we now know is related to the Mike Room- wasn't implemented yet.

Pluey only got added in February!!!! The Mike Room content was seemingly quite last minute. And we can be fairly certain that he isn't saying that they still need to implement Pluey for Console versions, because he really made it seem like the only reason the Bonus Room was added was because of the Switch 2:

All together, what that means is... For some reason, even way back in the days of the original Sweepstakes, it was already known to Toby Fox that Tenna's Crew has no clue who Mike is, but Spamton does, even though this information wasn't originally intended to be actually shown to us???

Which makes the Mike stuff even WEIRDER!!! WHO IS HE!? WHY HAS NOBODY EVER SEEN HIM? WHY DOES SPAMTON KNOW WHO HE IS? WHY IS TENNA SO EASILY FOOLED??

WE KNOW THAT HE MUST. EXIST??

IT SEEMS THAT HE IS ACTUALLY OUT THERE DOING STUFF? 'IT JUST SORTA HAPPENS' !?

IS MIKE, LIKE, A SHAPESHIFTER OR SOMETHING!?!?! IT DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE!!!!

But Lo, on Hopes and Dreams they send. Potential for Relevance appears at CH5'S END.

This TV... Surely this TV is relevant to something, it's right there in Flower King, and it isn't really the setup for any jokes or anything. It's just... sitting there. Waiting. My current conspiracy? Mike is relevant to Chapter 5. And, much like King and Queen kind of have a shared history, and Tenna has a history with Queen, Mike (Potentially this TV????) has relevance to Tenna. But the community got way too attached to the idea of Mike in the Ch2 days. That's why Toby needed to clarify via the Sweepstakes that Mike and Tenna were different- because Mike was important. And the reason the Mike room exists is because he was already making bonus content, and figured that he might as well use the opportunity to politely tell us all of our theories were wrong, while also calming us down a bit by making us think that Mike is less relevant than we thought, while also prodding the mystery a little deeper. People will tell me it's cope, that Mike was nothing. But I say all of this as someone who genuinely thought that Mike was Nothing in the Ch2 days. The information we have literally just doesn't make sense. The Pippins' rant is funny, but, it's also entirely true- every single point he makes is accurate, and I don't think that's a mistake. Mike for Chapter 5..?! Trust..

[forty-servants-free-readings]

Pick a pile

How will your future spouse smell?

Pick a group to find out, your reading is under the cut. If you're interested in a short, free oracle reading - feel free to send question to my askbox, anon is on. Answers are extremely slow due to demand and busy personal life, from time to time I go on hiatus. There is also paid offer, explained in my pinned post - those readings will be prioritised. If you want to support me there is a PayPal link in my bio.

Pick a pile masterlist

Group 1 - The Road Opener

Just looking at roads on this card I can tell your future spouse will have a very specific smell, their perfume might have unfamiliar to you scent with some ingredients from other climate spheres of the world. It might remind you of vacation in faraway land. It will make you think of freedom and travel.

Group 2 - The Chaste

Your future spouse will smell very clean. It might be the scent of soap, deodorant or freshly washed laundry, but it won't be overwhelming. Delicate and fresh like sleeping in new bedsheets. Very simple but you will love it either way.

Group 3 - The Protector

Their scent might be a bit heavier. Their signature perfume might include musk or patchouli, black pepper or other spicy things and in general it might be very manly (regardless of spouses gender) or rather meant for autumn/winter and a bit darker. Despite it you will feel great when you smell it cause it will remind you of the person who is always protecting and watching over you.

Group 4 - The Monk

Well, they probably won't smell like anything but their natural scent. I don't mean sweat or anything bad, just neutral smell of human body. They just don't see using perfume on a daily basis as a necessity, even their deodorant will be scentless.

[spookysanta]

Chapter 8: Morning Glory & Missed Messages

Ongoing tags: [Modern Romance] [Slow Burn] to [Fireworks [Black!Reader] [Younger!Reader] [Reader is That Girl] [Obsessed Michael™] [So Much Eye Contact] [Vacation Fling] turns into [Something Real]

Potential TW/CW: [Swearing] [Light Sexual Tension] to [Eventual Smut]

Read Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7.

yeaaaaah get into it! three-day work week this week + a shit ton of ideas + lots of drafts = a lot of shit coming your way! we're gonna keep on trucking with more of the checklist fics - "payback (with interest)." is next. v excited with the nastiness that'll ensue in that fic. make sure you got fresh draws on. or no draws. whatever you'd prefer.

You woke up slow. Still tangled in him. Still quite sore. But in that sweet, stretched-out way. Still drunk on the way he held you even after everything, like his arms were your address now.

His chest rose and fell against your cheek, his fingers tracing lazy shapes along the curve of your spine. There wasn’t any rush, no tension. Just the kind of morning that felt earned.

“You awake?” he murmured, breaking the morning’s quiet.

“Barely.”

“Wanna sleep more?”

You shook your head. “Don’t wanna miss this.”

He smiled, kissing your shoulder. “What’s this?”

“Us…The morning…You…Not letting me go yet.”

He hummed gently as a reply. The two of you laid there for a while – mumbles about everything that followed after today.

Upcoming flights, work schedules, and most importantly, what came next. “I want to see you soon,” he said with a knowing sigh. “Like next-week soon.”

“I want that too.”

“You fly home tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll come to you Sunday. That cool?”

You smiled. “That fast?”

He kissed your shoulder again, chuckling at your surprise, but also knowing you couldn’t say no to him. “Duh. I’ll have waited long enough already.”

The rest of the morning morphed into the two of you getting dressed, beginning with a shared shower – steam filling the bathroom in a warm haze, hands smoothing over soapy skin, slow kisses, wet fingers, and his voice in your ear like warm velvet.

“You feel so good,” he murmured, holding your face in his hands. “I swear I could wash you every day.”

You giggled, fingers wrapped around his waist, the steam not being the only heat against your cheeks. “You’re so dramatic.”

He couldn't help but chuckle, “You’re laughin’ but I was dead serious.”

He turned the water off, helping you out of the shower before wrapping you both in towels that could only be described as clouds against your skin. You stood side-by-side as you brushed your teeth, bumping his hip with yours when he tried to kiss your cheek with toothpaste foaming around his mouth.

The two of you climbed back into bed and he called downstairs to order room service – pancakes, bacon, fruit, eggs, tea, coffee, extra hash browns “just in case”. But the moment the room’s phone hit the receiver, your phone started buzzing.

You snorted as you scrolled through your notifications, fingers typing fast before anyone freaked out (even more than they already were, apparently).

You had barely hit send when the screen lit up again: 

tatiannaaaaaaaa rennaye wants to FaceTime you.

You groaned.

Michael looked over, brows furrowing in concern. “Everything okay?”

“My friends think I’m either kidnapped or dead.”

“Tell them I’m ordering eggs.”

You answered, instinctively rolling your eyes, but choosing to put a smile in your voice. “Hi.”

“Girl,” Tati snapped. “We almost sent a wellness check.”

“I’m fine. I slept in.”

“You slept with your whole soul,” she said. “Send proof of life.”

You flipped the camera, pointing it at Michael, who was shirtless and sitting cross-legged on the bed with his phone in one hand, his other hand brushing the small of your back.

Tati blinked. “Okay, I’ll allow it,” she responded in satisfaction. “You can stay a little longer.”

“Thanks, Mom.” you replied with a laugh, saying your goodbyes as a knock rapped against the suite’s door.

You both ate breakfast in bed, sharing bites, fruit from his fork, and soft silence broken only by tiny laughs and syrupy moans over the pancakes.

And after breakfast, he helped you gather your things while he gathered his own. He tied his your hoodie drawstring nice and tight, in the way that he’s come to know you loved. 

He pressed a kiss to your temple, holding your hand all the way down to the lobby for checkout.

—

The ride back to your hotel was quiet. Not sad. Just full. It was like both of you were already counting down to when you’d see each other again.

As he’d been doing, he walked you to your suite; and before you opened the door, he turned to you. “I can take y’all to the airport, if you want. Help y’all save a bit of money on Uber.” he mumbled.

You sighed, appreciating the gesture but not wanting to have to go to the airport at all. “Yeah… I think that’d be nice.”

He nodded, leaning in and kissing your cheek, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you into him. “Sounds good.”

“Don’t let us oversleep.”

“Yes ma’am. I’ll be outside at eight.”

“Got it.”

Then, gently, like he couldn’t help it, he peppered kissed against your forehead. “Bye, baby.”

When you unlocked the suite’s door and shut it behind you, four women stared you down like you’d walked in wearing a wedding dress.

“You made it!” Nas cheered, secretly eyeing the hickey that bloomed against the collar of the hoodie you were wearing.

“Unkidnapped,” Lex added.

“You smell like sin,” Kris noted. “…and pancakes.”

You dropped your bag. “I need to lay down.”

“No,” Tati said. “Your ass needs to pack. We’re leaving in the morning.”

You groaned. “I just came back.”

“Girl,” Nas said, “you left.”

And once again, like clockwork, the suite was full of laughter, of voices, of rustling bags, of rolling suitcases and shared mirrors and the sound of the last day beginning.

The sun dipped low around seven. Golden light poured in through the windows as the suite buzzed with motion — curling irons back on the counters, open suitcases half-packed, outfit pieces flying across the couch like nobody was actually ready to go.

“We said casual,” Nas reminded as Tati tugged on a strapless jumpsuit and posed in the mirror like she was going to a red carpet.

“This is casual,” Tati replied. “For me.”

“I’m wearing jeans and a t-shirt,” you said from the bathroom, one brow arched.

“That’s because you’re glowing,” Kris cut in, smirking from the edge of the bed. “You could show up in a paper bag and still outshine all of us.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue, because she was right. You were glowing. You still had a little bit of that warmth in your thighs, that softness in your chest.

—

The rooftop club was quiet this time of night. Not empty, just relaxed – groups scattered in corners, music playing low from someone’s phone speaker. You found a spot by the balcony, a perfect view of the city below, the skyline glittering in the distance.

And of course, drinks were ordered. Fries were set in the middle of the table. Phone cameras were flashing from every angle.

“Okay, everyone hold still,” Lex said, angling her camera in her selfie stick that she forgot she’d packed. “Golden hour is giving.”

Tati leaned in. Kris lifted her glass. Nas kissed Lex’s cheek. You smiled without trying.

Click.

Click.

Click.

And for a moment, it all felt suspended, like this could stretch out forever if you let it. No one brought up flights or suitcases or the fact that you’d be going to bed in a different city this time tomorrow.

Everyone just… existed. In the shimmer. In the sound. In the love.

—

Back in the suite, the noise of the night quieted as you crossed the threshold. People trudged to different parts of the suite – almost testing to see if time would move slower if they did. 

Lex was packing, softly humming. Nas was editing the night’s photos. Tati and Kris were debating whether or not to order room service dessert.

You slipped into your bedroom, your phone in hand, thumb hovering over the contact.

You didn’t even have to press anything before your phone lit up.

michael b. jordan (no seriously) is calling you…

You answered fast, like you’d been waiting. “Hey.”

His voice came through low and warm. “Hi, pretty girl.”

You exhaled.

“How was the night?” he asked.

“Perfect.” you sighed in contentment, slipping your clothes off to change into pajamas consisting of a shirt that you may or may not have borrowed from his duffel bag. You sat on the bed, leaning back against the headboard.

“You eat?”

“Mhm.”

“What’d you have?”

“We shared a plate of fries and a bottle of wine and took, like, thirty pictures in front of string lights.”

He chuckled. “That sounds like heaven.”

“It kinda was.”

There was a pause after that. You weren’t sure why your throat felt tight, but it made you afraid to speak.

And of course, he noticed. “You okay?”

You blinked hard, feeling your eyes well up, wiping your cheeks as tears started to fall. “Yeah.”

“You sure?”

You nodded, then realized he couldn’t see you. “I just…”

He heard the sadness in your voice clear as day. He didn’t miss a beat. “FaceTime me. Let me look at you.”

As much as you wanted to fight him on it, you knew it would be an uphill battle. So you caved, pulling the phone from your cheek and pressing the “FaceTime” button. It connected immediately. And you’d finally seen yourself, eyes shimmering and puffy with fresh tears, cheeks damp.

And then you saw him. His eyebrows were furrowed, as if he wanted to pull you through the phone to grab you. You could see the heartbreak splayed across his face.

“I don’t wanna go,” you whispered, voice broken. The honesty cracked open like glass – soft but deep. The tears flowed freely then, wet and hot against your cheeks in a way that made your heart ache in sadness and slight embarrassment.

“I know,” he said. “I don’t want you to either.”

You were quiet except for the occasional sniffle as he let the silence breathe.

“I’ve been thinking about tomorrow,” he added. “About seeing you off. About how fast this week flew.”

You swallowed thickly.

“And I keep wondering to myself… how in the hell did you get under my skin this quick?”

You let out a deep, shaky breath, rubbing the wetness on your cheeks away with your palm.

“Because I see you,” he continued. “I see the way you try to make space for everybody else before you make it for yourself. I see how scared you are to ask for something real. And I see how hard you fight to believe that someone could choose you first.”

More tears welled in your eyes.

“You deserve to be chosen, babygirl,” he said. “Every. Single. Time.”

You didn’t speak. Or rather, couldn’t. 

He softened his voice even more. “I’m gonna miss you like hell. But I’m not going anywhere. You know that, right?”

You nodded simply. “Yes. I know,” you whispered.

“And I’ll call when you land…”

You nodded again.

“...I’ll come to you next. And after that, we’ll figure out what’s next.”

You breathed in, letting out another sigh, finally getting yourself together. “I want there to be a next.”

“There will be. You’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

You laughed, the smile he was searching for finally appearing.

“You gonna be OK?”

“Yeah. I am.”

“Good. Call me if you need me.” He said your name like a kiss. “Goodnight, baby.”

“Goodnight.”

The call ended. You wiped your eyes before stepping back out into the suite’s common area. To the girls, to the laughter, to the final night that still had a little magic left in it.

You stayed up a little longer after everything cleared out.

But it wasn’t because you weren’t tired – you absolutely were – but because the moment felt suspended. Like the room knew it would all end in the morning and wanted to stretch out every breath of it.

Lex had laid on the floor of the common area, having pulled her suitcase out from her room and leaving it half-opened in the middle of the room.

Nas had started braiding her hair while sitting on the couch, playing reruns of Jersey Shore.

Tati and Kris were finishing off the rest of the wine in the kitchenette, flipping through their camera rolls, arguing over whose angles were strongest.

You just sat on the kitchenette’s counter, Michael’s shirt hugging your frame, blanket laid across your lap, already feeling the ache rise up again.

“You okay, hun?” Tati asked, noticing the change in your face.

You nodded. “I just… don’t want this to be over.”

—

You fell asleep later than you meant to, but not too late. You’d made sure to set your alarm. Already laid out your clothes and packed everything except your toothbrush.

When the morning came, it arrived gently – grey skies, soft light, and the kind of stillness that made you breathe a little deeper.

Everyone moved like clockwork. No chaos this time, just quiet groans and zippers. Matching sweats and puffed-up neck pillows, final checks, last wipes of lip balm, sighs into coffee cups.

You looked at the clock just as your phone buzzed.

After gathering luggage downstairs, you met him in the hotel’s courtyard. He was standing by the car, back door open, trunk popped. Black sweats and a Bulls snapback on his head. His eyes were low, like he himself was overwhelmed with emotion but wouldn’t let it show. 

But he was still fine, and still one of the safest things you’d seen all week.

He looked up and smiled sadly as you stepped through the lobby doors, girls behind you with rolling suitcases and sunglasses, moving like a slow parade. “There y’all go.”

Tati gave him a once-over. “You’re lucky we didn’t oversleep.”

“Would’ve waited,” he said easily with a shrug. “Would’ve brought croissants.”

Nas rolled her eyes. “Charmer.”

“I mean it.” He loaded every bag into his truck, checked every headcount, and opened every door. By the time you climbed into the passenger seat next to him – seatbelt clicked, bag under your knees – you felt the air shift again.

Like it always did when it was just the two of you.

The ride to the airport was full of that last-day energy: a little slap-happy, a little sentimental, and a lot of shared glances across the car.

Lex played a playlist softly through her phone.

Kris whispered a prayer over everyone’s flights.

Tati was texting the girls' group chat from within the car, sending blurry pictures of Michael from behind his headrest with a string of flame emojis and the caption: “our driver is fine as hell.”

You leaned into the window and laughed.

He caught your reflection.

And at the terminal, the car idled in the drop-off lane. Of course, Michael got out first and unloaded the luggage, saying his goodbyes and giving short hugs to the girls.

Then it was your turn. You’d gotten out of the car last, stepping out slow, having needed an extra second to collect yourself. Your heart was in your throat as you walked to him and grabbed your luggage from his hold. “I don’t wanna say goodbye,” you said quietly, feeling the heat in your face rise again for what seemed like the hundredth time in 24 hours.

“You’re not.” He reached for you, palm cradling your jaw, thumb brushing beneath your eye. “You’re gonna go. You’re gonna land. You’re gonna text me.”

You nodded.

“And I’m gonna call – and text – and whatever else you need, as many times as we need to. And then, I’m gonna book a flight to come see you.”

“That doesn’t sound casual to me.” You joked with a short chuckle. 

“Because it ain’t – and if I gotta remind you every day, I will.” 

You kissed him first without any hesitation. Soft. Full. Like every second between now and next time had to be soaked in this moment.

When you pulled back, he didn’t let go. “I’m yours,” he said. “You hear me?”

Your voice cracked. “Yeah.”

He leaned in. “All yours, baby.”

You kissed him again before you turned to go, the girls already waiting at the airport’s entrance. There was so much ahead of you – the now what’s, the what if’s.

But right now, your heart was set right there in his hands.

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[grudgecollector]

Closer to the mirror | Nam gyu / Fem!Reader

You are reading part one

Story Summary: After a year, Nam-gyu and Su-bong are tired of being shut-ins and decide to go clubbing. They are forced to come to the stark realization that they have certainly changed far more than they cared to admit.

Luckily for them, you just so happened to be working that night.

Words: 3.2k

Tags/Warnings: Nam-gyu and Thanos have PTSD, canon divergence, Thanos lives, Drug use, Drinking, Nam-gyu hates himself a little

A/N: SMALL PLAYLIST TO SET THE SCENE

note: The playlist is supposed to reflect the emotions and intensity in what's going on. You can choose to believe it's the music playing in the club, as well as the music warped in Nam-gyu's head.

HELLO!!! I'm finally back, just as I knew I would be.

Also please excuse any OOC stuff, I'm only just now getting back into writing Thanos and Nam-gyu.

Send in requests if you feel so inclined to do so <3

Nam-gyu sagged against the couch cushions, phone balanced in one hand as he tried to pull his throw blanket tighter around his shoulder. His thumb lazily dragged across the screen as he scrolled through Instagram, barely even registering what he was looking at as he tried to kill time. 

His roommate was still in the bathroom, no doubt doing some extra, unneeded touch-ups on his hair as he excitedly rambled in the distance about the club they were going to. Nam-gyu could barely hear him over the hairdryer, but he didn’t bother to tell his friend to speak up. 

Nam-gyu chewed softly on the skin of his lip, glancing out the window to see that the sun was starting to droop behind the neighboring apartment building. He and grabbed the lighter and a half smoked joint off the coffee table, hoping that it would help the anxiety that subtly crawled up his throat. 

After all, he suggested the idea. He wanted to get out of the house and do something a little more fun than late night bowling, or endlessly scrolling through uninteresting movies. It was just the thought of being enclosed in such a busy club that worried him, not having been around so many people in so long, he wasn’t sure how he would react. 

But he wasn’t going to back out now, especially not when Su-bong was already so riled up. 

“Oh man! Nam-gyu, you have no idea how excited I am for this, bro!” Su-bong walked out of the bathroom with a giddy smile, “It’s been so long since we’ve done something fun, like actually fun.” He ruffled a hand through his vibrant hair, “How do I look?” 

Su-bong slowly slid his rings onto random fingers, then readjusted the two necklaces he wore. His outfit was as expected, brightly colored and sure to draw attention if the club had black lights. His freshly dyed hair was equally as bright, the pink and purple almost reminiscent of when they officially met in the games.  

Nam-gyu blinked lazily at him, the smoke from his last hit swirling from his lips, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, “Do you want me to answer that question?” 

“Whatever man, be a dick all you want. This outfit is a sure-fire pussy magnet.” Su-bong loosely tugged on his shirt before smoothing his hands over his chest, “You’re just jealous I always look better than you, bro. Admit it.” 

“Sure.” Nam-gyu chuckled quietly, rolling his eyes as he stood from the couch. He threw his blanket over the back and smoothed down the creases in his shirt, readjusting the chain attached to his belt loops.

His outfit wasn’t anything to gawk at, not like Su-bong’s, just mostly dark colors with a simple print t-shirt and a long sleeve grey shirt underneath, baggy black pants, and some old shoes that have done him well over the years. The necklace he wore was tucked behind the collar of his shirt only coming out when he needed something to keep his fingers busy. 

He tucked a strand of quickly drying hair behind his ear as he took one last hit from his joint, handing it over to his jittery friend that swayed back and forth while scrolling through his phone. 

“Alright bro, we gonna pre-game or just go?” Su-bong asked his friend, noticing how tense his shoulders looked. “I got some drinks left from last month when I had that one girl over.” 

Nam-gyu shrugged, already walking towards the kitchen to sift through the cabinets for two shot glasses. 

--- 

The club was lively, sweaty bodies pressed up against each other in their drunken pleasured haze as they danced together. The bar was packed full of people coming in and out for drinks, couples conversing against the counter, girls laughing, men attempting to get their attention. 

It was an all too familiar environment that Nam-gyu never thought he would return to. He couldn’t tell in his own buzzed state if the feeling in his chest was good or bad. All he cared about was getting blasted out of his mind, wanting to get his mind out of the clouds of his own pathetic self pity. 

“Come on!” Su-bong yelled over the loud pulsing music, a wide contagious smile spreading across his lips as he excitedly guided his friend to the bar. 

Su-bong found an opening next to a girl and her boyfriend, the both of them engaged in a heated tongue battle that would have been easy to ignore if it wasn’t for them slowly getting closer to Nam-gyu. He couldn’t help but scowl a little as they bumped into him, forcing him to move onto the other side of his friend who not so subtly tried to flirt with the bartender. 

“Come on baby! You totally look like her!” He smiled, arms crossed in front of him as he leaned a little more over the counter to get a closer look at the amused woman. 

“I think you might need glasses!” She yelled back over the music, “You guys having anything tonight? Or are you just gonna clog up my bar?” Her question was thankfully said in more of a joking manner, sliding a menu closer to them, “We got some specials tonight if you wanna try them! Flag me down when you know what you want!” 

“She was kinda cute!” Su-bong shouted to his friend, making Nam-gyu roll his eyes and chuckle.

“You’ll say that about any girl who smiles at you!” Nam-gyu playfully replies. 

“Fuck you!” Su-bong mocks offense, placing a tattooed hand onto his chest before shoving Nam-gyu’s shoulder back lightly. 

Nam-gyu noticed a door behind the bar open, neon green and pink lights filtering from the room as another person stepped out, she said something to the bartender before walking away from the bar and disappearing into the crowd of people. He couldn’t see her face as she disappeared, and the thought of the mysterious person was quickly tucked away as Su-bong bumped his elbow into his friend's side. 

“I’m thinking of getting that special or whatever!” He pointed at the colorful menu that was subtly glowing against the black lights in the club. 

---

Both men were about four shots in when they finally decided to depart from the bar, albeit temporarily, in search of some more direct entertainment. They weaved through the throng of bodies, eyeing down the other patrons of the club, with Su-bong looking back at him. 

There were some tables situated towards the back of the club, a group of people huddled around one of them, laughing and stumbling a little bit. Su-bong glanced over his shoulder knowingly, practically skipping over to the table and introducing himself. 

“Hey wait! I know you!” One of the guys at the table shouted excitedly, pointing at Su-bong with widened eyes, “You’re that rapper! Uh-” He snapped his fingers a few times, the word clearly on the tip of his tongue, “Thanos!” 

Nam-gyu had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at the mention of his friend’s pseudonym. Reminding him of a less than dignified time for himself as he stood starstruck in the presence of the great ‘Thanos’, submitting to his friend’s drug induced bullying in order to get in his good graces. 

Su-bong practically beamed at the name, his drunken state dissolving any kind of embarrassment he may have felt nowadays over the name. His own relationship with that side of himself sullied by the games, and his own bad choices. 

“You know it, bro! T-H-A-N-O-S, yo, the one and only!” His theatrical personality always came out when he was inebriated. 

Nam-gyu couldn’t suppress the laugh as he crossed his arms over his chest and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, trapping his thumb nail between his teeth as he smiled down at the group. 

“Hey man, why don’t you guys join us?! We got some good shit if you wanna try it!” One guy lifted his hand off of a small baggy, the colorful pills inside making Nam-gyu’s stomach flip. 

Both Su-bong and Nam-gyu glanced at each other briefly. 

That gnawing feeling in their stomachs at the mere sight of the drugs making Nam-gyu’s skin itch with want. His drunken brain running much slower than his mouth, a quick, almost enthusiastic response coming from him. 

“Is it free?” He asked, leaning closer to the table to get a closer look at the freshly pressed pills. 

“Having a good time is always free for guys like you!” The man smiled, his pupils like saucers as his eyes widened a little. “Plus we could never pass up an opportunity like this!” 

Su-bong’s eyes didn’t leave the baggy trapped underneath the man’s hand, a wide smile coming to his face as he agreed. Any kind of hesitation either one of them would have had while sober completely forgotten. 

--- 

Nam-gyu wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he had taken that pill, but he honestly couldn’t find it in himself to care. A fluttering feeling settled in his stomach as Su-bong and him danced around together on the dance floor. 

His body felt weightless, his head both empty and full all at the same time, the colorful lights overhead practically sparkling along with the music pulsing inside his veins. 

He hasn’t felt this amazing since before the games. It almost made him feel stupid for swearing off drugs like this, who cares about being in the right state of mind when you can feel like this? No care in the world, no more pain, no more self pity. 

Su-bong was in a world of his own, dancing with a girl that he had pulled in front of the both of them. His hands were secured around the woman’s hips, a smirk etched on his lips as he leaned down to say something in her ear, Nam-gyu couldn’t help but shake his head a little with a smile of his own. 

His eyes slipped closed as he took in the feeling of the vibrating music, his whole body being controlled along with each beat. Nam-gyu’s hand came up to brush the hair from his own face, eyes fluttering open to glance back over at Su-bong who was now staring at him, unmoving. 

Nam-gyu’s body still moved as his heart stuttered in his chest a little, feeling as if he was closer than before to his friend. The smile on Su-bong’s face morphed, stretching his cheeks apart, the corners of his mouth almost reaching his ears. Nam-gyu blinked rapidly, shaking his head a little to see Su-bong was still dancing with the girl. 

So weird… 

The song blended into something a little more intense, rapidly rising and falling into each beat. The strobe lights switched on, Nam-gyu didn’t falter in his steps, recognizing the song from his own days at the club he worked at. It was one of his favorites back then. 

Su-bong’s movements seemed so much more robotic due to the flashing lights, and occasionally Nam-gyu felt as if his friends eyes were piercing into him again, unmoving like before. He tried his best not to focus on it, but it was hard as the girl Su-bong had with him started walking back to the bar and it was just the two of them again. 

Luckily for Nam-gyu his friend was fine, stuck in his own blissed out world with his eyes closed. His dancing almost looked boneless, moving much like Nam-gyu was, feeling the music completely consume the both of them. 

Suddenly there was someone walking up from behind Su-bong’s, Nam-gyu could have sworn for a second that she looked familiar, each flash of the strobe lights illuminating her face. Nam-gyu rubbed his palms against his face. The girl walked more into view, two drinks in her hands. Nam-gyu was able to get a better look at her now. 

Piercings, short black hair, a small smirk on her lips as she glanced over towards him. The strobe lights completely disorienting him, she almost looked like… No, that was impossible. 

Nam-gyu glanced back towards his friend only to see brief flashes of blood splatter across his face. Su-bong smiled again, menacing as he let out an all too familiar, almost evil sounding laugh.

“This is fun isn’t it?! Huh, Nam-su?!” Su-bong shouted, almost sounding taunting. His arm wrapped around the girl’s waist. 

Nam-su… Nam-su… No this isn’t right. 

Nam-gyu glanced around towards the other people on the dance floor. The song that played almost sounded as if it was slowing down, but the strobe lights only flashed faster. Each flash illuminated a new, all too familiar face around him, blood soaking into the fabric of their clothes. Their doll-like eyes all staring directly into his. 

His heart sank into his stomach, bile pushing its way up his throat as they all seemed to close in on him. Su-bong’s maniacal laugh echoed over the music, a hand slapping itself down on his shoulder. 

In his hazy state Nam-gyu was able to rip his eyes away from the staring corpses, his eyes finding Su-bong’s. His hair was that dark purple, his clothes different, teal and covered in fresh blood. Nam-gyu’s hands were trembling as he tried to push his friend away, fear gripping his throat. 

“Nam-gyu! Hey, bro! You alright?!” Su-bong asked suddenly, his voice piercing through his sudden hallucinations. 

“I need to sit down!” He yelled over the music, his voice almost cracking with fear as the strobe lights continued to flash. 

He pushed past Su-bong and went straight towards the booths in the back of the club. His friend followed close behind, leaving the now forgotten girl alone on the dance floor. 

---

A sigh fell from your lips as you wiped down one of the tables, the sticky residue left over by a spilled drink coming off easily. The strobe lights were thankfully turned off for now, giving your eyes a break, saving you from an oncoming headache. 

You hadn’t planned to work tonight, but with your boss calling you at the last minute you didn’t leave much of a choice. 

You figured it wasn’t so bad though, you had no plans, nothing more than just laying on your couch and catching up on the shitty reality show you had been binging. The toxicity and drama was easy to consume when it wasn’t your own life on the screen. 

“Come on man! Sit down right here!” You heard a voice yell from next to you, a colorful head of hair coming into your peripheral. 

He pushed his friend into the booth next to you, their backs to you as a hand came to rest on his friend’s shoulder, a loud boisterous laugh tumbling from his lips. The man sat down in front of his friend, his head tilting to the side as a small smile continued to play on his lips, examining his nails before glancing back up at his friend. 

The other man had his head in his hands, ringed fingers raking through his long hair. You went back to cleaning the table, not paying any more attention to them. 

“What happened man?! Weren’t you having fun?!” The bright haired man yelled over the music, leaning himself over the table to get a better look at his friend. “Nam-gyu! You listening, bro?!” 

Your hand stopped on the table, Nam-gyu? No, it couldn’t be. 

The last time you heard that name it was from your own wobbling lips, begging him not to leave your apartment. In that moment you had been so worried, terrified even, that if he were to step through that door you would probably never see him again. 

His debt had stacked up so high, he couldn’t cut corners anymore, and you knew that any day loan sharks would probably get to him. That, or he would be found dead in some grungy alleyway, and you would have to identify his remains.

“Please don’t do this…” You cried, clutching onto the sleeve of his jacket. The way he looked at you made your veins freeze. 

You always hated when he got this high. It always felt like you were staring at a completely different person, not your boyfriend, but a shell of him. The love in his eyes was replaced with a blank, unforgiving, emotionless stare. 

It broke your heart. 

“Can you let go of me now?” He asked coldly, not giving you enough time to respond before ripping his sleeve from your grip. “I don’t have time for your shit. Why don’t you waste your time on someone else?”

“Nam-gyu… Please…”

In a way you knew he didn’t mean it. Cruel words were always his way of trying to push you away when he got like that, as if he were some broken thing that couldn’t be repaired. And recently that had been all you would hear, his benders lasting longer and longer as his debt grew higher.

“Nam-gyu! Hey!” His friend’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. You straightened your back a little and abandoned the rag on the table as you slowly walked over to the table they sat at. 

“Fuck, dude. We gotta get out of here!” Nam-gyu yelled loud enough for you to be able to hear. 

You tried your best to seem as nonchalant as you possibly could while coming up to them. You braced a hand on your hip and glanced at Nam-gyu’s friend before looking at the other man, the same man you had loved for years before he walked out a year ago and never came back. 

“You guys need help with anything?!” You asked them loud enough so they could both hear, Nam-gyu’s eyes snapped up to look at you, immediately recognizing your familiar voice. 

His eyes almost looked terrified as he looked up at you, wide, his jaw going slack. 

“No, we're good! You can go!” Your ex’s friend yelled in response. 

You nodded and turned to leave, but before you could get a considerable distance away you felt a hand clasp around your wrist, trembling fingers softly pressing into your skin. His warmth seeped into your skin, and for a second you had to suppress the sob that wanted to rip itself out of your throat. 

He said your name softly, making you turn around and finally face him. His eyes met yours, he almost looked like he was going to cry. 

Over the course of your time working at this club, you had caught glances of what you thought could have been Nam-gyu. Deep inside you had always hoped it would be, but it never was. You knew it wasn’t right of you to hang on for this long, especially with how the two of you had broken up. 

So many unanswered questions were constantly swirling in your head. Questions you knew were unhealthy to cling onto. 

You couldn’t help it though, originally you would have stuck out whatever problems he had until the very end. Even if you were hurting yourself more by staying with him. He was all you had. And after a while of not hearing from him, you had assumed he had died, all of the worst outcomes trailing through your mind endlessly. 

“Nam-gyu…” You whispered, your lip trembling.

[clairewritesfanfics]

Villain Creation System Chapter 10

Pairing/s: Invincible x Reader x Invincible Variants

CHAPTER 9: Just Spit It Out! Series Masterlist <<read the synopsis and trigger warnings first>>

Markus Sebastian Grayson <markbassy@yodel.com>  to you <ln.yfn44@upstateu.edu.us>  Subject: Date

*When: meetup at 13:00 ends at 17:00

Where: Hutt Aquarium

Dress Code: Casual (comfortable shoes for walking are highly recommended)

*I’ll pick you up in front of your building and the date may conclude earlier or later depending on the state of things; ideally, dinner will be had at the Hungry Hippo. 

I also attached a copy of the aquarium pamphlet and of the most recent Hungry Hippo menu. (But I advise not reading the pamphlet for maximum fun.) Don’t worry about the expenses. My friend broke up with his girlfriend and gave me the aquarium tickets for free, and the restaurant has an affordability rating of $$ out of $$$$$ according to the Let’s Dine app. 2 attachments

huttaqua.pdf  hippomenu.pdf

I can’t wait.

Mark regretted that last sentence the instant his finger clicked send, but the wifi was stupidly fast tonight and the panic slowed his brain cells. The email was sent with a swoosh before he could even think about unplugging the wifi.

He reclined on his chair, rolling it backwards until the back hit the edge of his bed.

He agonized for several nights over what to do for his first date. He had dates before, but let’s face it, they were just an extension of foreplay. Dinners and drinks were a mere prelude to sex. Mark knew what to expect, his dates knew what to expect, everything was easy. 

You tried to make things easy for him. After he confessed his true feelings–the very memory burned his soul with the desire to drill into the core of the Earth–he hadn’t known what to expect. He knew that you liked him, you did tell him, but the moment that “I like you” left his tongue, a question popped up in his head, various questions, actually: what if you didn’t mean it the way he did? Thinking back at it now, the word you used was interest; he was the one who asked if you liked Mark Grayson. Saint Aquinas claimed that people can only love what they know, that love follows knowledge, so what did you mean by “vice versa”? What did love mean in the context of our conversation? What does love even mean to you? 

All those pesky questions had him spiraling, but you didn’t giggle or smile or mock him after he told you. It was like his confession rebooted you, erased your annoyance and disappointment, and you regarded him with a detached, but pensive expression, the face of a scientist looking through a microscope or a glass window. Before he could embarrass himself any further, you posed a simple question: Should we go on a date then?

He remembered his head nodding and mouth answering on their own. You offered to plan the date and that was when he actually regained control. More or less. “I’ll do it!”

“Good, but I’d like to offer some suggestions.”

“Sure!”

“Please stop yelling.”

“Okay!”

“...hm.”

You then gave him a clear and concise set of conditions: public places only, nothing that requires formal clothes, and if they were to dine together, the eatery should be within a reasonable price. You specifically told him to keep the expenses as low as possible, even giving an upper limit of 30 dollars. He appreciated it. He liked a woman who knew what she wanted, and more importantly, he liked someone considerate. It was sweet that you factored in his financial wellbeing when setting the rules, though ultimately unnecessary. Mark had relatively expensive hobbies for someone his age, he spent a fortune on his bass and didn’t mind spending his savings on his bandmates and friends, but the GDA paid for everything else, including his mother’s…well, everything. Money was not an issue, but you were so firm with your conditions, so he decided to lie about the tickets. 

He then rolled back to his desk and reread his email.  

My friend broke up with his girlfriend and gave me the aquarium tickets for free. 

Looking at it now, doesn’t this make him look too frugal? Almost cheap, to be honest. That’s not good. Crap. Plus, aren’t you like, superstitious? You believe in ghosts, maybe you believe in bad omens. Wouldn’t you think badly about tickets from someone fresh out of a break up? Sure, Mark made that up, but what if you cancelled on him? Crap,crap,crap. 

Before he could spiral again, his laptop lit up.

Mark didn’t expect to receive an immediate reply, it was two a.m. after all. 

…two a.m.

When he realized what time it was, he covered his face with his hands. Wasn’t sending the invitation past midnight too desperate? Not to mention rude? What if you were sleeping and your phone was right next to your pillow and you didn’t leave it on silent mode and it lit up and dinged right next to your ear and you’ll hate him for waking you up?

He reluctantly opened the email.

You <ln.yfn143@upstateu.edu.us>  to Markus Sebastian Grayson <markbassy_g@yodel.com> 

Email received. Thank you.

Mark tried to scroll down but there was nothing else. 

“That’s it?”

He folded his arms on the desk and buried his head. You weren’t upset, you weren’t going to cancel on him. Considering his near-breakdown minutes ago, this was a good thing. Still, he can’t help but be disappointed. 

Swoosh.

He craned his neck and saw another message. It was short and simple and clear. I can’t wait too.  Those four words pulled on his lips and he typed a reply: You’re still up?

You: No, I’m sleeping, if you can’t tell.

He grinned.

Mark: Busy thinking about me, I hope.

You: That’s right.

His fingers flinched. Blood rushed to his neck and ears and he covered his mouth. He thought he could be safe via email but there goes that tactic.  

You: I’ll be going to bed now. Next time, if you want to chat with me, just use your phone like a normal person. This type of conversation clutters my inbox.

He replied: Good night, princess. Promise you’ll dream of me?

You: Phone. Good night, Bassy.

He chuckled and then flew to his bed, opening his phone to reread the emails.

***

The dormitory elevators had their own rush hours so you prepared in advance and sat down at the lobby before lunchtime. 

The beauty of routine was that it didn’t waste brain power making multiple choices. For example, when it comes to classes, you have a predictable set of clothes ready on rotation. There was no fretting about whether to go cute or sexy or demure or girly or tomboyish or punk. It wasn’t like you hated dressing up, in fact, it was very fun; but in your world, life was formulaic (by design) and there was no need to dress up. Even in the social events you attended, there was a certain dress code. There was no overthinking to be done. 

You didn’t want to overthink your clothes for this date, but you spent a whole night trying on different ensembles and even after you decided on an outfit, you still changed it the following morning. The system didn’t comment, only followed you around with the two status meters. The black bar remained steady at 35%. However, including the minor increase from when you replied to his email, the affection score totaled to 69.2%.

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at your own giddiness. You felt silly feeling these butterflies in your stomach, but it couldn’t be helped.

It wasn’t Mark that made you feel this way. Sure, he was physically attractive, easily the most attractive man you’ve ever seen in person, and he was charming and smart and funny in his own Markish way, but this feeling wasn’t because of him. No, you reasoned, the butterflies are because you haven’t had a date in ages. That’s right. You nodded. This excitement was because you were thrilled to experience a date again. Your last one was so long ago, a lifetime even, that this might even be your first date. 

The system, who’d been snooping on your inner thoughts, rolled its eyes and then alerted you.

[Host, your escort is here.]

Your surprise overrode the desire to correct Zero-One as you glanced at your phone. He was thirty minutes too early. 

You hurried towards the entrance, but before you could grab the doorknob, the door swung open, revealing Mark. His normally loose and fluffy hair was combed and parted ¾ to the side. He wore ripped jeans and a white t-shirt under a leather jacket, left completely unzipped. A silver chain hung from neck and he had a silver ring on the thumb wrapped around the doorknob–his other hand wore a similar ring, it glinted under the fluorescent light as Mark held up a mini bouquet towards you.

“Hey, princess.”

“...hi.”

“This is for you. Obviously, haha.” 

You gently took the white and purple flowers from him. It was obvious that they were fake flowers and the bouquet itself was shorter than your forearm.

“I debated whether to ask whether you were okay with flowers or not. I wanted to surprise you, but I was worried that you might be allergic, so I decided to get you a fake bouquet. That way, we won’t end up in an emergency room and you don’t have to worry about carrying a giant bunch of…are you…okay?”

They’re just flowers, you thought. You had no need for flowers. You couldn’t take care of anything other than cacti and these weren’t even real plants so you didn’t understand why you were crying over them.

You raised the bouquet in front of you as you turned your eyes away from him. “I’m–” you hiccuped “–fine.”

“I’m sorry,” Mark said. “I should’ve asked you–”

“No.” You shook your head, wiping your eyes. “It’s lovely. Thank you.”

He grinned. “You’re welcome.”

“You’re early.”

“I’m not that early.”

“It’s an hour and a half before one p.m.”

“I–well–I misread the time, no, actually–”

“It’s okay,” you stopped him before smoke could blow out his ears. “I’m the type to prepare early too.” As if on cue, your stomach growled lowly. 

“I haven’t eaten breakfast either.”

An impatient voice spoke behind you: “Well, we want to eat lunch, so can you guys move?” There was a small crowd forming in the lobby, fellow tenants who were on their way to lunch. Some looked bored, some irate like the young woman behind you, but a good deal of the people seemed interested in your conversation with Mark, who grabbed your hand and smiled. “Sorry for the trouble. Have a nice lunch.” You’ve noticed that Mark was capable of a lot of expressions, his smile alone carried variety. This current smile had flowers blooming around him. It felt very fake, though that was because you spent so much time observing and interacting with him. If you hadn’t gone the extra mile to study him, you would have fallen victim to that smile.

The girl’s cheeks turned red, though less out of anger now, and she huffed, “Whatever.” 

Mark led you out the lobby and to a nearby bench outside.

“We can grab something to eat if you want,” he suggested, patting the leaves off the bench. 

“I have a couple of energy bars in my bag. Let’s see… chocolate strawberry, peanut butter and lemon vanilla–you don’t have to do that,” you said as Mark unfolded a blue handkerchief and placed it on the bench.

He ignored your words and motioned for you to take a seat.

Well. The handkerchief was already dirty anyway. Might as well. “Thank you.” You sat down and presented him with the snack bars. 

“That’s what you’re having for breakfast and lunch?”

“I want to save my appetite for when we have dinner,” you muttered, too busy ruminating on which flavor to eat, to notice how Mark covered his mouth.

He gently put his hand over the energy bars.

You finally looked at him, but this time, he wasn’t looking at you. The tips of his ears were pink as he stared at the ground and asked, “Maybe you should save that for when we’re walking in the aquarium. I’m actually really hungry, how about we go to the café?”

“If we do that, won’t that mean less money for dinner?”

Mark’s eyes flickered towards you before he smiled, revealing a canine tooth. That smile meant he was genuinely amused. 

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.”

“There’s nothing funny about being smart with money.” 

“I know, I know, I swear I’m not laughing at you. You don’t have to worry about the expenses, I have savings especially for this.”

“For girls, you mean?”

The joyous expression left him and it was your turn to laugh, hiding your own smile with the bouquet. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Mark refused to take cash from you and insisted on paying for both your orders. Starving as you were, you weren’t about to bankrupt him and opted for a light (and cheap) meal of black coffee and an eggdesal. 

When Mark returned to your booth, however, his tray carried one eggdesal and a large serving of fluffy waffles topped with whipped cream and blueberries and soaked in maple syrup.

You covered your stomach.

Mark unloaded the plates and cups on the table. “Bon appétit.”

“You’re not eating eggdesal?”

“It’s not the only thing I eat here.”

“I see.” 

You cleaned your hands with wet wipes, offered a piece to Mark, and grabbed your eggdesal. The bread was lightly toasted on the outside and smelled heavenly; between its soft, white inside was cheese and scrambled egg was a cheery yellow–it was neither too runny or overdone. You took a bite. The sandwich was sweet and salty with a bit of tang thanks to the ketchup. 

You washed it all down with fresh hot coffee.

Almost perfect. Your only complaint was that the whole pandesal was tinier than your fist and was gone after three bites.

You glanced over to Mark, who wasn’t even halfway through his waffles. 

Feeling your gaze on him no doubt, he raised his chin and you swiveled your head away, pretending to look out the window. 

[Ding. Affection: 69.3%]

“You know, I think I overestimated myself,” Mark said, cutting the waffles in half. “I don’t think I can finish this alone.”

“You’ve barely started.”

“I know when I’m beat.”

“That’s today’s special right? You should savor it.”

“I’m someone who doesn’t force myself to eat once I’m full, if you won’t eat then I guess we can just leave the rest behind.”

You shoved your empty plate towards his. “Well, if you insist. I hate wasting food.”

He bit down a chuckle and transferred half of the waffles to you, scraping and pushing most of the whipped cream and blueberries on your share. 

You didn’t know what expression you were making but you didn’t bother masking it. You made a quiet vow to treat him to something just as delicious in the future. 

There were blueberries baked into the waffles and the syrup didn’t taste artificial. It was perfect, you moaned.

[Ding. Affection: 69.4%]

“Aren’t you going to eat?” You chomped on a blueberry. 

“I’m getting full just looking at you.”

“Eat. Don’t let your waffles get soggy.”

“Right, right.” 

You two dined silently until you spoke up, “I have a question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“How come you don’t like dining at cafés?”

His fork and knife stilled in the air. You expected the affection level to decrease, but that didn’t happen. 

“I was hoping you’d forget about that,” he joked wryly. 

“Oh. Sorry. You don’t have to answer.”

He ran a hand through his hair before he leaned forward. “Tell you what, princess, I’ll answer if I get to ask you something.”

“Fair enough. What’s your question?”

“What are you expecting from this date?”

You cocked your head to the side. Is that it? “I’m hoping to get to know you better.” What a waste of a question. 

“Really?”

“Yeah. Why else would I ask you out?”

“You didn’t ask me out, I–”

You gave him a look and he backed down. “Okay, yeah, you asked me out.”

“It’s your turn to answer,” you said.

He slumped in his seat. “Right…it’s not a big deal.”

You waited for him to continue.

Mark adjusted his position and plopped his chin on his palm. “Mom likes coffee, so she used to take me to this coffee shop where she would help me with my homework or read to me. It was where I met William, you remember him?”

Your fingers twitched.

[Host, in the canon timeline, William Clockwell is Mark Grayson’s best friend. He is a major supporting character.]

You knew. This brain knew.

You couldn’t meet Mark’s gaze. “Yeah…” you muttered. 

“It’s okay if you don’t, it’s been a while, and I don’t think I even invited you to my ninth birthday, sorry about that, by the way.”

He continued, eyes glazed over, “It was after dad left. Mom would take me to the shop but didn’t stay long, told me she had to work, and she’d pick me up before sunset. But one day she was late. William’s mom offered to walk me home but I didn’t want to bother her, so I went home alone. I had a spare key with me so I didn’t bother ringing the doorbell.”

A shadow fell over his face. “I could hear weird sounds from the kitchen. I was what, eight, nine? I thought I was going to crap my pants, but I went inside anyway. And then, I saw them, my mom and William’s dad.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach.

“Mom saw me but I ran out the door before anything else could happen. I waited for them outside. Once they were done, mom told me to get back inside the house and you know what she said to me, to her traumatized son that caught her having an affair with his friend’s dad?”

You shook your head.

He rolled back his shoulders and grinned. “She asked me, ‘Did you finish the worksheets I gave you?’”

“...oh.”

He hummed and raised the cup to his lips.

You pondered over what to say next. Would it be wise to offer an “I’m sorry”? You have read your fair share of household scandals, real and fictional, but you were ill-equipped in dealing with this. 

Perhaps sensing your dilemma, or maybe he simply didn’t want to discuss the current topic further, Mark had another question: “What’s your favorite animal?”

“Huh?” You didn’t have one, every species had something to offer, though some were more conventionally adorable than others. “Cats and dogs, I suppose.”

“That’s boring.”

“I–”

“Ask me.”

“Okay, what’s your favorite animal?”

“Hyenas.”

“Huh.”

“They’re cute and over-hated.”

“Hm.”

“What?”

“My guess would have been wolves.” 

“Wolves are cool, but they’re no hyenas.”

“Uh-huh.” You watched his Adam’s apple bob as he went on a whole spiel about how cool hyenas were and shared fun facts about them, like how a group of hyenas are called a clan or cackle (‘not packs!’ he insisted). 

When he finished, he puffed his chest, like his mini speech successfully converted you to loving hyenas as much as he did. “Well, what do you think?”

“I think you’d look good in a collar.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You know, like a dog collar but for humans.”

“…you mean a choker?”

“No, I mean a collar, the studded kind. You have the neck for it,” you remarked, pointing your knife towards his white neck, “though I guess a choker is aesthetically similar.” A choker would be harder on his throat, you thought, a collar would be less restrictive. 

Mark shook his head and transferred more blueberries on your plate. “You got weird kinks, princess.”

[Ding. Affection: 69.7%]

He seemed to be in a chipper mood.

All righty then.

“We still have some time before we leave for the aquarium.” You dug into your coin purse for a quarter. “Heads or tails?”

“I don’t even know what I’m betting on.”

“We both finished our drinks and I’m not going to spend five minutes arguing over who gets to pay for the second round. So, heads or tails?”

He beamed, showing off his little fangs. “Tails.”

***

The aquarium was flowing with visitors, mostly families and some young pairs of lovers who clung onto each other like newly weds. However, it wasn’t so packed that it made you nauseated. There was a sufficient number of people that added to the hype of it all. It was a lively atmosphere. 

As Mark had suggested in his email, you decided to be spontaneous and didn’t open the pamphlet.

The tour started with a walk through the Freshwater Garden, a collection of fish, frogs, toads, turtles and insects found in rivers and ponds, segregated accordingly. The walls and floor were mostly wood and decorated with stones and green, lit up with soft, warm light. 

A few kiddos strayed from their parents’ sides and bent over the pond in the middle of the main room. They pointed at the log in a corner where a snapping turtle stood. Two other turtles tried to climb on, rolling the stump until the snapping turtle splashed into the water.

“I told you he was going to fall–you owe me a candy bar!”

“Shut up!”

You snickered at their antics. Must be nice to be amused by the smallest thing.

Mark nudged you with his elbow as you two passed by the river section. “Judging by that giant smile on your face I’m guessing the aquarium was the correct choice.”

“I thought you got the tickets because your friend broke up with his girlfriend.”

He blinked.

You guffawed. “I’m kidding. This is great, no offense to your friend, but I’m glad his love life crashed and burned. Museums are one of my favorite places.”

He exhaled. “That’s a relief.”

“I have another question, though.”

“Go ahead.”

“If you had a choice, without worrying about the cost, would you still have chosen an aquarium for our first date?”

He paused, tilting his chin to think. Then he replied, “Yeah, I would have.”

You two passed through another vestibule, creatively labeled Under the Sea. The warm wood was replaced by a deep blue velvet. The glass walls and ceilings curved over you. Gone were the mossy rocks and roots of trees, showing only corals and sand. 

You held yourself back from skipping towards the colossal school of anchovies.

Mark followed your line of sight and strode towards the fish.

You followed suit. 

“Between hiking and scuba diving, which do you prefer?” He asked. 

“I guess it depends on my mood. Both of those things can be expensive and require stamina that I don’t have.”

“Okay, how about this: would you rather have a picnic somewhere on a mountain or at the beach?”

“If I really have to choose, I guess I’d go with the beach. You?”

“It depends on my mood.”

You frowned. “That’s not fair.”

“Sorry ‘bout that.”

He then stepped aside, signaling you to go on. You shrugged and made your way deeper into the aquarium with Mark half a step behind you.

You two ambled in silence until you stopped again in front of a tube with a bloom of jellyfish, each one no bigger than your fingernail. “I’d like to change my answer.”

“You prefer the mountains?”

“No, not that. This.” You gestured at the transparent blobs behind the glass. “My favorite animal.”

Mark bent over the tablet standing in front of the tube. “Turritopsis dohrnii, more famously known as ‘the immortal jellyfish.’” 

“Aren’t they cool? I didn’t know they’d be here.” Your shoulder bumped into his as you looked closer at the little miracles. “Once they reach a certain age or as a reaction to certain stimuli, they revert back to being polyps. Can you imagine de-aging like that?”

“I can, actually,” he mumbled.

“If we humans discover a way to replicate their cells’ differentiation process, we’d be able to solve cancer and even replace missing organs! These jellyfish are the future.”

Mark slid his palm over your forehead before it hit the glass. “They’re also aggressive invaders.” 

“They’re cooler than hyenas.”

“Wha–take that back.”

“No, sorry, immortal jellyfish beats a bunch of furballs.”

“Furballs? Furballs?”

You laughed and walked away. 

You two reached the final exhibit, The Deep, and the moment you stepped inside, you were assaulted by a blast of ice-cold air. The tunnel was pitch-black, with only the faintest lights on the floor to line the path forward. Understandably, the place did not house living creatures from the deep sea, rather it projected 3D holograms that floated across the dark tunnel. 

You started shivering, but not from the cold alone. This darkness was too familiar. You’re suddenly brought back to the Void, the Nothingness that waited for you if you failed. 

Perpetual nothingness.

You were starting to get dizzy when something heavy covered your shoulders. It was Mark’s leather jacket. 

“I probably should’ve recommended a sweater, too,” he said.

You grasped the lapels and breathed slowly. “Thank you.”

He offered his hand and you didn’t hesitate to clasp your quivering fingers on his warm palm. 

Mark started walking and he posed another question, “Do you think it’s better to be good or smart?”

“That came out of the blue,” you joked.

“I’ll forgive that horrible pun if you answer honestly.”

An oarfish hovered over you. “So that’s why you asked me whether I preferred the mountains or the beach. You could have just asked me from the start. I don’t like dawdling.”

“Well, I’m sorry I’m not German.” A few crystal jellyfish danced over him. Their blue-green luminescence lit his eyes, made them look like they were glowing themselves. “‘The wise love water, the good love mountains. The wise are active, the good are tranquil–”

“–The wise are joyful, the good enjoy long life,’ was it?”

His hold on you tightened briefly.

You watched the jellyfish bob away. “I don’t think we’re supposed to choose. I thought the whole point was that we need to be both to live a harmonious existence.” The Earth was neither made purely of water nor soil, it was beautiful because it had both. 

“But what if you have to choose…” he whispered. “What if being good means sacrificing your own happiness? Wouldn’t being wise be better?”

“That depends. Smart and wise aren’t synonymous. Confucius believed that wisdom is rooted in fairness though, so if you choose to be wise then that means choosing what is right, not just for yourself but for everyone. Wisdom exists to temper goodness so that we can live a moral life. Using Confucius to excuse selfishness is, well…you know.”

Mark’s hand was colder now.

“I can’t say that Confucius is my favorite philosopher though. I shouldn’t be saying this, but,” you said as you followed the movements of a slow anglerfish above you, even its weakly lit lure would shine in the Void, “but if I had to choose between the happiness of strangers or my own, the answer is obvious.”

[Ding. Affection: 70%. Darkening: 35.2%]

***

There was a gift shop strategically positioned right outside The Deep. It was white, blue and gold and appeared rather fancy for a gift shop. Aquatic creatures decorated every corner, ranging from a school of clownfish painted onto a wall to a giant octopus holding coral-shaped baskets of stuffed sea animals. 

A twentysomething lady dressed in a white dress shirt and a navy blue apron greeted you with a practiced customer service smile. “Good afternoon and welcome.”

You nodded politely while Mark fired his own bright smile back at her. “Good afternoon. Is there something special going on over there?” He was referring to the crowd huddled over one side of the store. 

The saleslady blushed and handed you each a pamphlet. “The aquarium is doing a limited time collab with Stacy’s.”

You skimmed the robin’s-egg blue paper. Stacy’s & Co. was a jewelry company that was famous for its bracelets. A rather on the nose parallel to a certain jewelry company back in your world. 

“We have earrings, necklaces, bracelets and anklets, even keychains and accessories for pets. All are aquatic themed and I’m sure you will find something you like. We’re also offering a really good deal for ring sets, perhaps you and your girlfriend would like to purchase a pair?”

“Actually–”

You cut him off and responded, “We’d like to take a look, thank you.” 

She gestured for you to follow her to the display case. Expectedly enough, the other guests that swarmed here were couples. Everyone was fawning over the ring sets, but you weren’t interested in that. 

Instead you pointed at something in the necklace section. “That one.”

The saleslady blinked. “Pardon?” She was tempted to rub her eyes because surely you weren’t pointing at that, were you?

“That chain collar looks nice. I want him to try it on.” 

Mark pointed at himself, equally confused as the woman behind the counter. 

“It’s pretty, I think it would complement your throat nicely, not to mention your collarbones.” Though with his current getup the latter wasn’t so obvious. 

You then turned to the saleslady. “He has a pretty good neck, don’t you agree? He could model with it.”

“Um, I-I don’t–”

“Take it out please.”

Mark put his hands on your shoulders. “Now, princess, that’s sweet and all but maybe not something that’s clearly designed for dogs?”

“Have you seen the necks of some dogs? I’m sure this will fit you just fine.” You turned to the woman. “You think so too, don’t you?”

The saleslady pitched in nervously, “I’m afraid I can’t encourage wearing animal accessories.”

“Aw. That’s a shame.”

“Yes, a real shame,” Mark said, softly shifting your attention to the human collection. “How about earrings?”

“But you’re not pierced, and I doubt they sell fake earrings.”

“I meant for you.”

“Oh.” 

Mark then asked the saleslady for earrings that were suitable for everyday wear. She showed you several pairs. Most were studs, some were huggies, others were jackets. All of them sparkled. 

They were great, but honestly, you weren’t interested in getting a pair for yourself. If anything, you were busy imagining Mark with piercings. With his sense of style, it felt appropriate, but could his skin even be pierced? You thought back to what you know about Superman and his kin. They had kryptonite but the stingy system refused to share much about Invincible’s weaknesses.

Mark then interrupted your deliberation, “See anything you like?” 

“Not particularly.”

“That’s okay. Wanna go see the other souvenirs? Miss Rinna here said they got a bunch of stationery.”

Your quiet search for his kryptonite vanished instantly at the mention of stationery.

***

“You seem pleased,” he commented, amused as you two entered the Hungry Hippo. 

You hugged your shopping bag full of notebooks close to your chest, not too tightly or you’d ruin the bouquet Mark gave you. “I had a couple of stationery that was ruined. I’m still using them as scratch paper, but I can’t use them for serious writing.”

“Maybe get water-proof paper next time,” he suggested playfully.

“I never said that they got wet.”

He stiffened. “Well… I just assumed. I read somewhere that nine times out of ten, water…ruins paper.”

“Is that so.”

“Uh-huh.” He then pulled a chair for you. “Anyway, d-do you know what you want?”

You sat down and unfolded a piece of paper from your pocket. “Everything’s here.”

“You made a list. Of course.” His tone was more teasing than it was mocking. 

You handed the paper over to him and he raised his arm until a waiter arrived. Mark recited his and your orders, thanked the waiter and turned to you.

“So.”

“So…”

“How would you rate today’s social event?”

You fiddled with the strap of your purse. “It’s fine.”

You regretted your words as you can see his hypothetical ears droop. You hurriedly corrected yourself, “I mean, it’s going great so far–amazing.”

He propped his elbows on the table and leaned closer. “Really?”

“I love the aquarium and the holograms were a smart way to incorporate deep sea life into the exhibit without hurting real animals, plus I got to buy some new notebooks, and I really love the flowers,” your words came out like bullets. You had real fun today, all thanks to Mark. You didn’t want him to think you were saying these things as mere platitudes. 

“So does that mean…” 

“What?”

He cleared his throat but refused to look you in the eye as he repeated, “Does that mean this won’t be our last date?”

“I hope not.”

Your reply caught him off guard because his head swung at an inhuman speed to face you. “Really?”

You held the bouquet to your smiling mouth. “Really.”

He was about to say something when his watch beeped. All that happy, puppy dog energy was nowhere to be seen.

[Ding. Darkening: 35.5%]

He hit something and the watch began vibrating. “Anyway–”

It kept on vibrating.

“That looks important.”

“No, it–” 

The watch blinked red multiple times before the vibrations became beeping again.

He looked about ready to smash the thing.

You reached over and put a reassuring hand over his. “Go.”

“But–”

“We ordered a lot. lt will be a while before the food arrives, so go.”

He sighed and gave you an apologetic smile. “If the food arrives before I come back, eat without me. I have an account here so don’t worry about the payment.”

“Take care.”

He seemed hesitant to leave just yet. His expression told you he wanted to do something else, but before either of you could move, his watch started flashing.

He cursed under his breath and rushed outside.

[There seems to be another alien intent on invading Earth.]

“I’m sure it won’t take long.”

You retrieved a pocket-sized edition of Slaughterhouse Five from your bag. One of the perks of the after-life, or this life before the after-life, was that it gave you the chance to do inventory. You barely scratched the surface of your TBR list but here the stress of real life, of rent and grades was gone. You can indulge in recreational reading without guilt.

You lost yourself in the very first line and didn’t even register the arrival of your meal thirty minutes later, not until the waiter respectfully brought it to your attention.

You thanked him but decided to give Mark five more minutes.

[Host.]

“...”

[Host!]

“What now?”

[You told me to alert you if five minutes have passed. It has been exactly five minutes since your command. The food is starting to get cold.]

You slipped the folded Stacy’s pamphlet between your pages. “And Mark?”

[Still saving the world.]

You put away your book. 

He did say to eat without him so you picked up your fork and tore into your still-hot tomato and basil spaghetti. Sweet and tangy with just the right amount of garlic and some chili flakes that added an extra kick.

You sighed contently at your choice for dinner and sipped slowly on your banana milkshake. It was inexpensive and filling compared to the other options on the menu. 

In contrast, Mark ordered a lot for himself. Chicken salad with honey mustard dressing, baby back ribs with a side of peas and mashed potatoes, cheesy pasta with extra broccoli and two sliders. 

He must have been really hungry. You felt bad for him, being a superhero sounded like a nuisance. If you had powers, you’d keep it to yourself and use it to make life easier, not worse. Like, if you superspeed, you would use it to get some extra sleep.

But Mark was too kind. His food will be cold by the time he comes back.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” Your waiter approached just as you flipped to the next chapter.

“Really sorry to disturb your reading but I would like to ask if everything was to your liking?”

“It was, yes.” You shifted on your chair.

“Is there anything else I can get you?”

“Just a refill for my water, thank you.”

As the waiter left your table, the system dinged.

[Not that I care how you spend your free time, but how long are you going to wait for him?]

You focused on your book. “As long as it takes.”

***

Shit,shit,shit,shit,shit.

Fucking insect fucks.

Fucking Cecil.

Fucking team can’t do anything right.

Mark shoved Rex off him when the idiot tried to get him to drink. He ignored Eve’s attempts to get him to stay for the post-mission meeting and flew back to the Hungry Hippo as fast as he could. He swapped into his civilian clothes mid-air and hid the backpack someplace safe.

Three hours. He kept you waiting alone at a family restaurant for three hours. 

He wouldn’t blame you if you stayed just so you could slap him hard and tell him never to email you again. He wanted to slap himself.

Still, he needed a chance, he needed to try and explain and apologize, so even if you remained just to yell at him he would take it.

After surveying the area for any witnesses, he deemed the parking lot behind the restaurant safe and landed. He took a moment to fix his appearance, using a car window as a mirror.

The hair he had meticulously brushed and moussed at dawn was tousled by the fighting and the flying.

He didn’t have time to waste so he combed it back with his fingers and ran.

Please be there, please be there…he prayed as he scoured the tables from outside the windows.

At eight p.m. the place was packed with families from the aquarium and nearby mall, but his heart sank when he realized that you weren’t at your table.

He checked his phone. No messages. He should have sent you a quick text, but everyone kept screwing up that he didn’t have a moment to spare.

He should still apologize.

He started typing, but someone approached him. “Mark?”

“Princess?”

“Hi.”

“Hi.” He pocketed his phone. “You’re still here?”

“As you can see.” 

Yes, he could see. You were even wearing his jacket.

“I was trying to look for you inside, through the windows.”

“I felt bad because there was a long line of people wanting a table so I asked them to wrap up your food and the staff were kind enough to let me hang out on the waiting chairs.”

He was speechless.

“I’m sorry for giving up our table.”

“No, no, you got nothing to apologize for. I was the one who abandoned you like a di–like a jerk.” He closed the distance between the two of you. “I’m sorry.”

You gave him a sincere smile. “All is forgiven.”

“You can hit me if you want.

“I’m not going to do that.”

“Are you sure? I was horrible.”

“It was work.”

“That’s no excuse to leave you waiting for hours. I should’ve called or texted–”

“You came back, didn’t you? We’re cool. Seriously.” You shimmied your right hand, which he now noticed to be holding a pocket book. “I was going to text you that I left our table but I forgot the time.”

“You brought a novel to our date…”

“Don’t take it personally. I have a couple of fanfics and scientific journals on my phone for when I get stuck at parties.”

He shook his head, chuckling. 

Mark called for a cab and then walked you back to your building. He refused to let you carry any of the takeout bags.

“Are you sure you don’t want the ribs?”

“I’m good.”

“The salad? The sliders?”

“They’re yours, Mark.”

Truth be told, he knew you chose the spaghetti because it was the cheapest pasta, same with the milkshake, so he ordered more than he needed. He had planned to split his food with you until those damn aliens got in the way. 

He was tempted to use the “I’ll just end up throwing the food away” card again but he didn’t want to push his luck.

“I had a really great time with you,” you said, cradling your shopping bag. “I haven’t had that much fun in forever.”

“First date in a while, huh?”

“The last one was a lifetime ago, and even then, nothing comes close to today.”

His chest beamed with pride. “I’m glad to hear it.”

He mirrored your smile.

You two stood in front of the dorms in comfortable silence.

Mark didn’t want to say goodbye just yet, but he knew the date had to end at some point. 

He was about to bid you good night when you suggested, “Wanna go up to my room?”

taglist: @weponxwrites, @ratkidcalledallie, @qxuanii, @lilacoaks, @gluttonousriceflour, @phisen, @sleepyzzz3, @whaaaaaaaaat111, @ik33ponmakingc00ki3s, @lonely-entity, @noxus123, @ilovecoffe0

Author's Note: I hope you guys enjoyed our date with Mark (I designed the aquarium based on the Animal Crossing New Horizons aquatic gallery huhuhu) I'm feeling under the weather so I won't be able to answer any messages immediately. I also haven't edited this chapter as thoroughly as I wanted, so if you see any inconsistencies with the time or Mark's favorite animal being a lion instead of a hyena (it was a lion in the first draft), you'll know why. (_　_|||) bye bye for now

Disclaimer: The images used in this post do not belong to writerclaire. They were lifted from the following sources:

Invincible flying from: https://gamerant.com/invincible-every-character-fate-comics/

Alternate Invincibles from: https://gamerant.com/invincible-all-alternate-dimension-invincibles-fates/

CHAPTER 11: Coming soon. Series Masterlist

ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊

MAIN MASTERLIST

Any questions for the author? Ask here.

[satosugusthirdwheel]

thinking about husband satoru

Husband!Satoru who never lets you call him 'Gojo' anymore (unless it's referring to you as 'Mr. And Mrs. Gojo.') Satoru, Toru, Sato, any pet name in the book- they're all perfect. But as soon as you say 'hey 'Gojo' hes pouting at you like you just said you don't love him anymore. "I like it when you call me satoru" he'll whine.🤍

Husband!Satoru who brings you your favorite sweet treats on his way home, for both of you to share🩵

Husband!Satoru who will sit and watch whatever movie you want. Romance, comedy, documentary, makeup tutorials for 12 hours, you name it- as long as you play with his hair the whole time. 🤍

Husband!Satoru who always answers your calls. No matter what. Every single time. Weirdly fast, too. He'll talk to you about whatever you want, important or not. 🩵

Husband!Satoru who texts you every time he can. He'll send you selfies, too, no matter what he's doing. He'll update you on every aspect of his day, including the cat he saw on the way to his destination. (Especially the cat) 🤍

Husband!Satoru who changes his lock screen far too often. Probably 5 times a week. Always a new picture of you, his beautiful angel. Or a picture of you together. He shows them to his friends, even when it annoys them. He doesn't care, you're perfect. 🩵

Husband!Satoru who will literally teleport home to give you a kiss whenever he feels like it. You roll your eyes and call him needy, but if he ever stopped you'd probably cry.🤍

Husband!Satoru whos so scared of losing you he'd move mountains to give you everything you want. You won't leave him, and never fail to reassure him that you're here forever. He still gets worried. Even though you're married. When you notice him feeling down, you cuddle with him and kiss him all over. 🩵

Husband!Satoru who sings to help you sleep and plays guitar to help you study. Sometimes just to see you smile. He'll also sing to you whenever he likes the song in the car, and drag you to karaoke.🤍

Husband!Satoru who takes so many pictures. You pretend to be annoyed sometimes but you love how dedicated he is to capturing your memories. You know it means a lot to him, so you make photo albums out of all the best pictures.🩵

Husband!Satoru who slips notes into your jacket pockets. Sometimes sweet- "You are my everything. See you at home, baby" Sometimes sexual "When you get home today, put on that little red outfit I like and wait for me" Sometimes just silly little drawings, sealed with a sticker. 🤍

Husband!Satoru who SPOILS you. Expensive clothes, jewelry, whatever merch, plushy, interest you have. He showers you in gifts, but casually. You'll come home and there's a new figure of your favorite character on the table. You ask him about it and he just casually says "oh, I remembered you said you liked them. I'm glad you like it" 🩵

Husband!Satoru who takes you on movie dates all the time. Every time there's a new movie in theaters. Sometimes he won't shut up, and you get in trouble. You've been kicked out a few times because of complaints that he's annoying. But you always have fun. 🤍

Husband!Satoru who wears matching shirts with you. At first he acted like he wasn't interested. But snatched it out of your hand and wore it anyway. Now, more often than not he's the one asking you to put on your matching shirt. 🩵

©Satosugusthirdwheel. Please don't copy or post elsewhere without crediting @satosugusthirdwheel Tumblr 🤍 blog is 18+

Masterlist

((Authors note: what I would dooo to have satoru gojo as my husband ahhhhgg. Thanks for reading🤍))

[queenofhalloween94]

Master List: OotP Ch. List

Summary: Minho visits a certain omega 😉. Y/n realizes something she's ready to tell the group.

Warnings: Just fluffy tiny bit of angsty boi's

Ch. 6 Gravity

You heard the knock just after sunset. Three short raps. A pause. Then one soft, deliberate tap.

You opened the door. Minho stood there in a dark hoodie and jeans, backpack slung over one shoulder, his scent hitting you before the breeze could even carry it fully inside. Vanilla. Tobacco. Warm skin and something feral underneath it.

Minho crouched slowly, eyes wide with gentle curiosity as your cat Luna padded cautiously into the room, tail flicking with mild suspicion. “Hey there, little one,” he murmured, holding out a hand as if asking permission to exist in her space. When she finally rubbed against his fingers, purring softly, his whole face lit up like he’d just been accepted into a sacred secret.

He looked up at you like it was no big deal your normally anti-social cat was letting him rub her belly. “Hey,” he said simply.

You didn’t realize you’d been holding your breath until it came out in a shaky rush.

“Hey.” turning red as he assessed you and took a walk around your apartment.

You made tea. It felt easier than trying to start a conversation, and he didn’t push. He just followed you into the kitchen, set his bag down, and leaned silently against the counter, eyes tracking your every movement.

When you handed him a mug, your fingers brushed. That was all it took.

Your scent flared—spiced apple cider, warm and wanting. Not heavy, not uncontrolled. But real. Present.

Minho’s eyes darkened. “Suppressants are gone,” he murmured.

You nodded. “The partial bond has been making them react weird lately. So I ditched them.”

He took the mug, set it down untouched. “Come here,” he said, low and firm.

You walked to him and he wrapped his arms around you like gravity had finally been allowed to do its job.

You didn’t talk for a long time.

You lay together on the couch, lights dimmed, your head tucked beneath his chin, his arms around your back like he wasn’t quite sure how to let go even if he wanted to. His scent coated the air now, warm and grounding, your own wrapping around his like threads stitching closed an open seam.

His hand moved slowly over your hair, then down to the curve of your spine. “This,” he said softly. “This is what I missed.”

“I didn’t know it would feel like this,” you whispered. “I thought… the longer I stayed away, the more it would fade.”

“It doesn’t,” he said. “It anchors. It waits.”

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

The Group Chat: Den Racha

☀️ Felix: she’s probably curled up in his hoodie rn

🐿️ Han: he BETTER have let her scent him

🐈 Minho: she’s asleep. on me. 

**sends picture of you with your head tucked under his chin, Luna laying on your side**

💪 Changbin:🥹🥹🥹

🧁 Jeongin: I hate you but also I love this

🐶 Seungmin: do NOT knot her

🐿️ Han: bro it’s MINHO

🌸 Hyunjin: still

🐺 Chan: no knotting

🐈 Minho: I know. She's not ready.

☀️ Felix: …but are you?

Minho didn’t answer that one.

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Later That Night

You woke to find him still beside you. Minho was lying on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, the other draped over your hip. His scent was thick but calm, settling over your senses like a weighted blanket.

“You awake?” you murmured.

“Since you shifted.”

You looked up at him. His face was softer now. Bare. Not guarded.

“Can I ask you something?”

He nodded.

You took a breath. “Do you ever get scared of how fast this is happening?”

“Yes,” he said immediately. “But not because I don’t want it.”

“Then why?”

He turned his head toward you. “Because I want it too much.”

Your heart twisted. You whispered, “Me too.”

He reached up and traced a slow line down the back of your neck. “It’s not just scent or instinct, you know.”

You blinked. “It’s not?”

“No. It’s the way you laugh. The way you look at all of us like we’re not monsters. Like we’re… people. Yours.”

“I do feel like that,” you admitted.

Minho leaned in, breath warm at your ear. “Then let yourself feel it.”

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

In the hotel suite in the next tour stop, Chan is sat in the back lounge, staring out at the blur of headlights along the highway.

“She’s not coming back the same,” Han said softly from the other end of the couch.

Chan didn’t answer.

“None of us are.”

Chan closed his eyes.

“No,” he agreed. “We’re not.”

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

In the morning you woke to the smell of vanilla in your sheets and the sound of your kettle clicking off. Minho was in your kitchen, shirt rumpled, barefoot, pouring tea into the same mugs from the night before. He turned when you padded in.

“Your scent is even better in the morning,” he said with a small smile.

You flushed. “You smell like home.”

He handed you your mug then kissed your forehead. It was barely a press of the lips. But it was everything.

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

It started the moment Minho returned, the rest of the boys didn’t ask what happened. They didn’t need to. He walked through the suite door with your scent still clinging to him—apple cider and sleep, something sweet and unguarded—and the entire room went still.

Felix’s nose twitched first. His eyes softened.

Hyunjin inhaled slowly and closed his eyes like he was in prayer.

Han, who’d been sprawled on the couch, went quiet for once.

And Changbin… Changbin stood up without saying a word and walked straight to Minho.

He hugged him. Not hard. Not long. Just… enough. Minho hugged him back, being  the rock he needed.

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Minho had only been gone for eight hours, and you already missed him. You lay in bed, wrapped in a hoodie that still smelled like his scent of smokey vanilla, scrolling through messages on your phone. Your scent was stronger now—untamed, less restrained. You felt their bond threads pull taut, one by one.

Your phone buzzed.

💪Changbin:

Can I call you?

You blinked.

🍎 You:

Yes

The video connected before you even finished typing. Changbin’s face appeared, backlit by hotel lamp glow, hair damp from a shower.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

You smiled. “I should be asking you that.”

He laughed—but it wasn’t his usual big, boisterous sound. It was quieter, thoughtful.

“I’ve been trying not to… feel this too hard,” he said. “But it’s like… now that Minho came back, I can’t stop smelling you everywhere.”

You exhaled slowly. “I know. I can feel the pull too.”

His hand went to his neck, fingers grazing the curve where a bond bite might go. “I want it. You know that.”

“I know.”

He looked at you for a long moment. “Jagiya.” He almost whispered, his tone dropping semi lower causing your breath to hitch. The pull aching almost as worse as it was before Minho visited. You bit your lip and turned red causing him to turn pink himself realizing he called you that out loud. The phone cartoonishly being dropped ends the video call.

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

The ache really hit Han during rehearsal. They were practicing transitions when someone accidentally brushed his back—just a touch—but it sparked his instincts so hard he almost dropped to his knees. Later, in the locker room, he sat alone, towel over his head, scent leaking no matter how much he tried to rein it in.

Seungmin approached cautiously. “You okay?”

Han didn’t answer at first. Sighing, "I miss her like it’s an ache in my bones.”

Seungmin nodded. “We all do.”

Han, still staring at the floor “We can’t wait much longer.”

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

You’d stopped fighting it. The need. The pull. The aching want to reach for each of them. They weren’t a maybe anymore. They weren’t a fantasy. They were your pack. Fear of the unknown be damned. 

Your phone buzzed again.

This time, the message was from Hyunjin.

🌸 Hyunjin: You inspired me want to see?

🍎 You: always

He sent a photo. A soft, charcoal sketch of a fox curled under an apple tree in a bed of peonies and roses. Your scent practically bloomed off the screen.

🍎 You: it’s beautiful

🌸 Hyunjin: so are you

🌸 Hyunjin: I want to curl around you and never let you leave our bed.

You clutched your phone to your chest and breathed in and out slowly trying to calm your scent spike down. “Ugh.” You think to yourself “You’re getting as bad as a teenage alpha.”

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Their manager leaned forward. “Let’s be clear—you’re saying all eight of you are experiencing instinctual bond threads with her?”

“Yes,” Chan said simply.

“And she wants all of you in return?”

“She feels us from the bond echo,” Felix added. “She already smells like us.”

Seungmin crossed his arms. “And we smell like her. The fans notice.”

“We’re not asking for permission,” Minho said. “We’re asking for protection.”

There was a long pause. Then the manager sighed. “So we prepare for a pack bond application. Publicity. Travel documentation.”

“And heat cycles,” Jeongin added softly.

Everyone turned to him.

“She’ll need us for her next one,” he said, voice even. “And we want to be there.”

“She’s part of us now whether you all like it or not.” Chan says as he leads the group out of the room.

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

You curled into your pillows as Luna tucked herself into the crook of your side, purring like she could hear the vibrations of your heart through your skin.

Your scent had changed again. You weren’t suppressing anymore. You weren’t hiding and the bond threads thrummed constantly now.

You sent one message to the group chat.

🍎 You: I want all of you. No more hiding.

The response came in seconds.

🐺 Chan: finally

🐿️ Han: I’m gonna cry

☀️ Felix: already did

🌸 Hyunjin: me too

💪 Changbin: I’ve been waiting for 3 days

🐈 Minho: you’re ours

🧁 Jeongin: now and always

🐶 Seungmin: then let’s make this official 

**Thank you for reading!!**

[werezmastarbucks]

U N19

U N7 masterlist 14/14 + 2 extra chapters

word count: 3257

music: bicycle by rm, blue by yung kai, all i wanted by paramore

warnings: yoongi's a babygirl (evil) (not really)

if he hasn't started inserting himself into your life, the feeling might have gradually settled to a cooling temperature where it would stop to matter in the end.

that's one thing you realise when he calls you.

Yoongi doesn't let you go on for longer than a week, without reminding of himself. the whispers behind his voice, drawn by your imagination, suggest that it is now a collective effort. you have no idea of scale of the operation, just how many people are involved in this scheme: you want to consult with HESCGC but find the chat has been abandoned, as in, everybody left it except for you. it breezes over with a somber, unpleasant feeling. why would they leave the chat even if it was inactive? you console yourself by saying they probably have a lot of chats in their messengers and get lost in them.

it's too early to think about Kim Seongjun yet, and your nights with Komangi are serene and full of rest, sometimes reinforced with comfort when Yoongi calls. he switches from texts to those, and you don't notice until it's too late. he calls more and more, often to speak about nothing, and one night you're suddenly sharing news and the bedroom starts smelling like spring in the middle of September.

"age definitely made me less dramatic", he mentions casually one night, "everything seems so simple nowadays".

"wasn't simple before?"

"it used to be cloudy. can you help me out?"

you like how his voice goes up politely, repeating the rainbow's bend, when he's being shy.

"with what?"

"i have to perform in Pohang next Sunday", he grumbles. it sounds like there's a gun at his temple. you think he's being cunning.

"you can always say no. hope that helps?"

he chuckles.

"no, i have to. chaebol will be there".

sometimes you're reminded of the nature of his job. it's been a while since you even thought of them as idols. so many years after they started they don't come across restricted at all, to you. it's a fine shake to reality: he will always be an idol, no matter how far he runs from it and how many ties he manages to sever with the scissors of success. there will always be at least one left. it's how the country works.

"you want me to protect you?"

"yeah. can you come?"

"i will".

Yoongi doesn't send you his schedule anymore; arrangement is outdated. now he calls you once a week at night, because the daytime is busy; sometimes he sounds tired, sometimes, joyful. a break is only a break for those who have a child or a pregnant wife to care for. the others are still working their assess off, but also in Yoongi's case it's something that he chooses.

"you have pears yet?" he asks.

"yes, do you have apples and plums?"

"too many, i don't pick them at all".

"you should gather them and send to Taeyang".

he puffs instead of an answer.

"i am kind of so busy".

you chuckle. you think you should come over to Seoul more often, maybe every other weekend. have coffee with Yuri who is suffering without you; or even with all the girls.

you decide to take the fast train that will take you to Pohang in an hour. Yoongi's schedule aligns with yours in that you can catch it at five and be there for the beginning of the show. he wants to catch up before he goes on stage; but the evening just doesn't go as planned.

if you had chosen to be there later, and gone for the usual suburban train that rides with all stops for two hours, you might have actually been there earlier. the Busan express runs someone over on the tracks; the passengers peek out of the windows as you all remain stuck on the iron rails and wait, for almost an unbearable time. you send him a text saying you'll be late because of someone's suicide. when you finally make it to the arena in Pohang, you enter the stadium, vibrations drumming through the bones in your feet and climbing up to your chest, and Mr. Lee meets you. you can hear the sounds of Yoongi's music as he's performing. the huge screen doubles and broadcasts all his movements, delaying him only for a fraction of a second; he's in a white silk shirt and doesn't get to rap about his dick tonight; it's a charity event for the cultured people. you haven't heard this full-instrumental version of Seesaw in a long time; feels fresh with his new, soothing voice.

"am i very late?" you scream to Mr. Lee, walking right before you. he turns back for a second.

"third song".

his big thumb goes up to calm your mind. you put your hands into the pockets of your leather jacket as you walk slowly through the narrow paths, snaking in the middle of seats and railings, in the sea of purple. feels like a magic forest for a second; the mellow and melodic voices of the Armys singing along make it sound like a lullaby even with the drums.

he takes you backstage and leaves, stepping into his black spot: Mr. Lee is more often there, than he's visible. with time, even though you generally didn't get to see him as much as Yuri did, he started seeming like an uncle to you. always a tight smile under the guise of a busy frown. strong forehead, curious eyes. this dude laughs so much more than he wants to let on. you step away from the light as well; people swarming to and fro, they are busy. you take off your jacket, and the shoulders turn out to be covered in small shivers. the air is sliding through the uneven open space of the gloomy backbone of the stage. music is booming. his voice is thundering with echoes, projected into another direction, here, behind his back, it sounds distorted. you figure you haven't been to any music shows in a while and should catch up; Busan's a big city, and even international bands come over sometimes. your head bobs together with the rhythm of the music, a blend of songs from different years, the lyrics fluctuating from angry and rash to thoughtful and optimistic. Yoongi doesn't speak much in between them, knowing that he has a defined window of time to do his seven pieces and get off the stage, but you hear him eventually call to hear his name shouted, in his raspy voice he uses to tease the audiences. they erupt in an ecstatic yell; most of them have grown alongside Yoongi and never lost their longing for him. just like you. somewhere in the arena, there's a girl who is turning a respectable age next year, who still has a weird little tear in her heart when she hears her old friend Suga. or, worse, you think, rubbing a piece of someone's old chewing gum stuck to the floor, with the tip of your sneaker. a young beautiful girl, glowing that special shine that sets her apart from the mature, who is ready to do anything to get to him. who has the same kind of desperate desire for him that you used to have. who isn't dancing now, isn't reacting like the rest of the crowd, but just stands there, looking at him with those starry, dreamy eyes you used to have.

his segment ends, and the crowd sends him off with the last roaring hug flying onto the stage. the chokehold that Bangtan still has on this country... about 70% of the stadium is there for him and not the others. they should be sure to remember that.

you move yourself a bit further, feeling the surge of stylists and workers pacing closer, as Mr. Lee opens the curtain and lets Yoongi in - or out - and they surround him, undressing him from the wires. he refuses the towel, nodding, then you see his eyes searching for you. he asks something, and the guardian points at you as you step out of the shadow a little and wave at him. the way he starts moving, with his hand extended, like he wants to run away immediately, makes a funny parallel to the first time you ever met face to face. you catch his palm that slides up your arm and eventually grabs your shoulder in a hug. he moves your body away, starts walking at once, putting distance between you and the noise.

"sorry i'm so late", you murmur.

"did you arrive now?"

"no, i heard seesaw".

"oh", your bare shoulder is soft against his silk shirt. you hope he can keep it; the pearl shade of white looks stunning on him. the friction makes the strap of your dress slide down and you adjust it.

"you missed summer".

"sorry".

"it's alright, i'm just yapping".

he puffs his cheeks, releasing the adrenaline from the stage.

"we always talk about breaks and i always start missing performing together after six months".

"that seems to be the tendency with you reluctant septuplets".

he gasps theatrically, opening the door of the dressing room for you.

"that is so right".

"if you were girls, you would all get your periods simultaneously, while being in different countries".

he looks like he's having a small enlightenment at your words. as soon as the door closes, he puts the other hand on you, giving you a proper hug, but the nature of your dress turns it somewhat sensual. Yoongi doesn't hide the way he's looking at the curves of your body as he kisses you on the cheek. this is turning too casual, and you're not sure you mind. you haven't clicked your teeth at him in a while.

"where do you wanna have dinner?" he asks as he sits himself into the chair. all the products are already neatly arranged on the desk in front of him, but there are no stylists to wipe the makeup off him. he takes a bottle of liquid and taps the cotton pad on it. you decide not to be too useless, so you walk over to him, taking in his new hair, the usual side bangs and a small mullet, with strikingly black hue again. the hair clips are right there in front of him, but he doesn't use them, rubbing his forehead. you move his bangs away and pin them up with the clips, and he looks almost criminally cute. you actually want to bare your teeth and scold him for the face he makes, as he gives up to your hands. his fingers tug at your hip to pull you on his lap, but you gently push them away, bowing instead and offering the view of your cleavage. his skin is a map of his life; lines going down from his nose and the laughing wrinkles at the corners of his eyes; one monolid and one double. acne scar on his cheek: you have a similar one on your forehead. he simply refuses to lose the cheeks. you rub off the foundation carefully, removing the darkness from his eyebrows.

"i have a job offer for you", he mutters.

"what's the pay?"

he thinks a little.

"two kiwis and one scare a day".

your lips curve in a smile.

"you can keep it".

it's weirdly therapeutic, even calming, to work on his face. it's a gesture for sure, you see his eyes become more and more soft as you clean him. after, you send him off to the bathroom to wash, and he returns the usual Yoongi, bangs standing up, lips pouting, the way you used to see him in Seoul all the time. his eyes are searching for something around you and the chair you're sitting on.

"where's your bag?"

"i have none".

"ah". he blinks.

"i thought you'd stay for the night".

you raise your brows a little.

"tomorrow's Monday, i need to be at work. i figured i'd be coming for the show".

he rubs his hands, thinking, with the expression of refusal that he doesn't display often. chews on his cheek. maybe if you hadn't been so late he would've let it go, but there was a reason you put on this dress specifically. actually, you're not sure what the reason was. guess to tease him, simply. see how weak he really is.

Yoongi steps out of the dressing room and closes the door quietly, then you're left for a couple of minutes on your own. you fidget with the two colorful hair clips in your fingers, then step back to the mirror and put them back into place, turn off the light.

he returns, moving a little more swiftly, with a different light on his face.

"okay, i will take you to Busan", he says. you nod.

"you hungry?"

"nope, i had a little..." he pauses, "are you?"

you shake your head no. put your jacket back on and he changes into casual clothes, then leads you out, and down the corridor.

"aren't there people outside?" you ask and get your tail from under the jacket.

"about a hundred people", Mr. Lee says, "there's no other way out".

you are surrounded by the security, Yoongi's assistant Vicky and her minions, and the other staff that belongs to the arena.

"just walk over with us", Mr. Lee advises, "you can let your hair down".

Yoongi smirks about something. it's a trap he's leading you in, slowly, pretending it's nothing. you remove the tie and let the hair spread on your back and cover your face as you approach the exit. Yoongi pulls his mask up and puts his hand through the hair.

"you first".

Mr. Lee tugs you along and you leave into the short path leading to the car, trying not to look to the sides, but also, don't appear too scared. Vicky is at your shoulder. a dozen unhurried steps, and you jump inside the black suv, and the door slides closed behind you. you can see Yoongi emerge then, walking slowly to the purple ribbons who separate him from the people. he signs something, shakes hands, turns around to get into the camera shot, then moves on. about three minutes later, the door slides open again, and Mr. Lee puts his hand up to protect his head, as he gets inside.

"looted some food", he laughs, showing you crackers packs. they make you giggle for some reason.

you ride through the evening Pohang, already dark and still mysterious to your eye. been here only once, haven't memorized much except for a veinous-looking bridge and a giant hand reaching out from the sea. the car only takes you to the hotel where you lose everybody except Yoongi.

you think about one of the songs from your long-abandoned U N7 playlist, while the rental seamlessly slides along the highway. they didn't take away his license after all, only fined him a hefty amount; Vicky paid it without him having to remind her. the yellowish-white flower-shaped lights fly by the road so quickly that they turn into a garland, and the peace inside the car is so good-natured that it's almost unbearable. you thought you had Yoongi in your life as a character, years ago, but now he is really here, consciously. he is slow. he lives unhurriedly, eats without haste, takes his time to think, falls in love slowly. you barely speak on the way to Busan, he only yawns a couple of times and asks if there are any crackers left. you hum along with the music, and he pulls the skirt of your dress up you knees to see the scars from two months ago. now it's a light crust, small cuts covered in dark-red rough skin in the shape of the shards of a meteor. he needs to leave again in the morning, quite early because it's now a road back from Busan; by midnight you're at home, and he walks over to the back yard first, to see the pear trees. Komangi is wandering there like the mythological spirit that is getting ready to offer him a wisdom or a task; Yoongi picks up a couple of pears and walks back, satisfied.

the whole time you're feeling like you were going to trap him with the dress, but instead, as usual, he traps you; his hands easy and skilful with the knife above the table, he cuts the pear into small pieces and puts them in his mouth. it's pale-yellowish-green, very similar to the tiles in the bathroom on the first floor of his house. you feel connection to everything now.

"you want some?"

you open your mouth and he puts there a little piece of the pear. as your teeth work it, you're reminded of the supreme quality of the tree-grown garden fruit. so, that's why they all like the confiture so much. there's been a lot of sun this summer and autumn; September is still hot, with rains coming much later in the month. Komangi enters the kitchen and rubs himself against your leg, and you reach down to caress him on the lean back.

"i love you", Yoongi says, peeling the skin off the pear butt. your hand lightly taps the table, and you both look away. the unwillingness for the direct eye contact unites you.

"i was going to say it about three years ago, but i decided you'd slap the soul out of me".

you lean against the wall as Komangi leaves your side for the food bowl.

"smart".

the kitchen is pretty dark, the only light is the golden glimmer from the back yard. you feel comfortable like this; this apartment has been awesome. kitchen smells like your perfume: fruity and sweet.

"Busan didn't help", you muse, "i am still obsessed with you".

"oh, thank god", he drops the knife and the pear and pushes the chair away as his body rises. Yoongi steps to you and bows, finding your mouth with his sweet heart-shaped lips. you put the palm to the side of his face, tenderly, and he leans in.

Yoongi lowers himself and sits on your lap, keeping half of his weight on his toes, so you can breathe and wrap your arms around him.

actually you think he's been very calculating about it.

the cold nonchalance of his lewd offer a year ago, the gradual new habit of having him near, the kinks in place of conversations, the rare meetings and business texts, might have all been parts of his scheme. HESCGC.

you've been loving him in the way that would've made it impossible to have him, for six and a half years. the person who fell in love with him now, in a little more than twelve months, is a different person. less prone to romanticizing feelings. more cautious but less self-hating. the people who met almost a decade ago are different people now. Yoongi has always been smart and you don't care to ask him whether he was purposefully creeping up on you steadily and slowly. it doesn't matter. his face pressed into your palm, the weight of him crushing your lap, he is now here. yours. Jungkook's hand in yours under the plum-dark night sky in Prague, drizzle sobering you up. the tapioca boy was probably the best thing that did happen to you.

taglist: @ktownshizzle , @benyhime , @ryryvna , @amarawayne , @mar-lo-pap , @lili-spots , @kiki-zb

[trendywaifus]

ZHU YUAN X FEMALE READER BUT ZHU YUAN IS AN ABSOLUTE LOSERRRR, like your usual pubsec officer Zhu yuan is so focused and composed but once reader comes into her office to ask her about work related things. She's so AWKWARD, like in an endearing way. She'll try to maintain professional cuz she's still at work duh. But she'll make small talk while smiling awkwardly and laughing at you nervously fidgeting with her hands under her desk 💔. She definitely wouldn't act like this on the job in public cuz she prioritizes her work. But in private it's lowkey over

I just know she also doesn't know how to flirt so when she does decide to 'flirt' it sounds like "Your outfit today looks nice today" and it'd be your fucking pubsec uniform LMFAO reader has to ask her out first💔. I'd type more but I literally have 1 minutes left until submissions are closed😫

If you don't like this and don't do it can u just do cockwarming Zhu yuan with a strap idk

-🍔🍔🍔

how can I not like this??? n the funny thing is you could’ve type more i remembered u sending it like an hour before it closed. 💔 GOSHDAMN BUT I LOVE THIS. zhu yuan is such a dork. cw: none. fem! reader, fluff

firm knocks reverberates around zhu yuan’s office as she finishes up paperwork for her shift. she has exactly thirty minutes before she clocks out. the upcoming conversation with whoever is behind the door will mostly take up the time she has to finish. sighing, she quickly scribbles a few reminders on a stick note for what documents she has to finish on tomorrow’s shift.

“ you can come in! “

the door gently opens and her composure pathetically crumbles away when she sees you strolling into her office with a beautiful smile on your visage.

“ zhu yuan, i know it’s almost time for your shift to end and i’m sorry, but i have some inquiries about patrol tomorrow. “

the aforementioned woman nervously fiddles with her pen, answering back, “ a-ah (name)! it’s alright! please don’t apologize. ask me anything you want to know about t-tomorrow’s patrol. “

you are a squad leader for a different team who patrols in a different part of the city. recently, there’s been reports of increased robberies in the lumina square area and the streets surrounding it. your squad was handpicked to help out with patrols. it puts her little more at ease that you’ll be helping her and her squad. saying that she’s inspired by your work ethic and compassion would be an understatement, she inspired by everything about you. you were apart of her graduation class and how you comb through fields even she struggled with, inspired her to do and be better.

you walk up to her desk and zhu yuan swallows lightly, placing her pen down, and rests her hands on her lap. “ the area we’ll all be patrolling is pretty darn big. . .mm, since you know the ins and outs of it, have you decided on our positioning? which is fine if you don’t because—“ she is trying so hard to pay attention to what you’re saying but it seems like she suddenly lost the ability to properly focus. did your eyes always looked so bright whenever you talk to her? the way your hands would move around as you articulate makes you look. . .what’s the right for it. .cute? she has the same habit but she thinks it doesn’t look good on her compared to you.

“ u-um. . “

“ hm? “

zhu fiddles with her thumbs under her desk, “ s-sorry, what were you saying? i-it’s not like i wasn’t listening to you—i just got a little distracted with something! h-haha. .”

you tilt your head at her, blinking. she was always a little shy outside of her workspace but getting distracted during work is kind out of character for her.

“ sorry but distracted with what? “

“ i. .uhmmm. .” zhu yuan’s cheeks turn a rosy pink, the tips of her ears turning red. “ w-with. .your outfit!”

your brows curl upwards and you glance down at your stylized pubsec uniform. was there something wrong with it?

“ does my uniform look weird today or something? i always make sure that it’s within dress code. .“ you inquired with uncertainty in your voice.

“ n-no, “ she sputters, waving her hands frantically, “ i meant it looks good today—y-you look. .good today! “

your face contorts into a look of realization once it clicked that the socially awkward woman in front of you is trying to flirt.

you break out into a knowing smile and laughed chastely. “ thank you, zhu yuan. but i think you look good everyday. “

the shy smile on her face was borderline dopey. zhu yuan clears her throat awkwardly, “ th-thank you too. i-i’m sorry for diverting the conversation, let’s go back to the plan. what were you saying—“

“ are you free tonight? “

“ i-i’m sorry? “ zhu yuan looks so cutely appalled by your sudden question, you just wanna kiss her.

“ let’s go out for noodles after our shift. we can discuss the plan while we eat, beautiful. i don’t think we’ve had time to properly hang out after years of knowing each other. “ you offered, giving her a sweet smile. bashful, she hurriedly nods her head with a timorous smile. “ i agree! that would be nice but. . “

“ but? “

zhu yuan taps her pointer finger against her thigh as exhales out a subtle shaky sigh. her heart is beating against her ribcage. “ i’m not sure what to wear. .” you chuckle, leaning your body over the desk and extended your hand out. her gaze flickers between you and your hand, puzzled.

“ hand please? “

she complies tentatively, placing her gloved hand into yours. “ it can be just casual wear, it’s a casual date after all, “ you start, guiding her hand to your lips and gently kissed the leather pad. although zhu yuan can’t feel it, the mere gesture turned her face hotter. “ you look flawless in your uniform. can’t wait to see how perfect you look in something else. “

[companion-showdown]

Whose debut story acts as the best introduction to their character?

This is not about voting for your favourite character, instead how their first story acts as an introduction to their character, so for example, I prefer The Eleventh Hour to Rose, however Rose is a better introduction to Rose than The Eleventh Hour is to Rory. You may disagree with this assessment, but I hope that illustrates my point regardless

Episodes will appear more than once if they introduce multiple characters, they also may not be the characters technical first episode, eg Donna appears at the end of doomsday, but her debut story is obviously The Runaway Bride

to submit your nomination literally do anything i'm guaranteed to see, most people send me an ask, also please give me the title of the story

Nominations

Rules

Please check the auto inclusion list (see below) before sending in your nomination, it includes every tv compaion and some EU companions

Characters MUST BE RECURRING, they must have multiple stories that they appear in, they do not have to be actual companions but they have to appear in more than one story in more than just a cameo

Please keep the volume of nominations within reason so its nice and manageable for me

Each character can only appear once, exceptions will be made for eg regenerations, genuine alternate universe versions (ie beyond two different sources doing different things)

might add more rules as we go, we'll see

Nominations so far

The Eleventh Doctor - The Eleventh Hour

Kode - Interference

Sabbath Dei - The Adventuress of Henrietta Street

Christine Summerfield - Dead Romance

Downtime!Kate Lethbridge Stewart - Downtime

Oliver Harper - The Perpetual Bond

Roz Forrester - Original Sin

The Doctor - An Unearthly Child

Erimem - The Eye of the Scorpion

Hannah Bartholomew - Moonflesh

Brian Williams - Dinosaurs on a Spaceship

The Twelfth Doctor - Deep Breath

John and Gillian Who - The Klepton Parasites

Gomez!Master - Deep Breath

Dhawan!Master - Spyfall

Elizabeth Klein - Colditz

Miranda Dawkins - Father Time

Please give me the characters name and the title of their debut story

You have until 17:30 BST(UTC/GMT +1) on the 2nd of July

Characters I have questions about

Katarina: I know her first appearance is The Myth Makers, but I've not seen it, is her appearance significant enough to count as a debut or should she not qualify because Daleks Master Plan is her only significant appearance? Answer so far: yes she is in the Myth Makers properly

Dodo: this is a Donna situation right? I've not seen the Massacre, but I believe she just walks onto the TARDIS right at the end and it would make more sense to consider The Ark to be her debut story Answer so far: The Ark

Clara: would people prefer Asylum of the Daleks or the Bells of Saint John? Answer so far: Bells of Saint John

EU characters: Charley and Evelyn are literally the only ones whose first story I've actually listened to, listed below are the first appearances according to TARDIS wiki, please chack the accuracy of the ones your familiar with Will update the list as necessary

Alison: Is she in anything other than Scream of the Shalka? Answer: yes

I did all the TV companions off the top of my head, if one of them is wrong please tell me

Autoqualiers and their debuts under the cut

Classic Who

Ian Chesterton - An Unearthly Child

Barbara Wright - An Unearthly Child

Susan Foreman - An Unearthly Child

Vicki Pallister - The Rescue

Steven Taylor - The Chase

Katarina - The Myth Makers ?

Sara Kingdom - The Daleks Masterplan

Dodo Chaplet - The Ark

Ben Jackson - The War Machines

Polly Wright - The War Machines

Jamie McCrimmon - The Highlanders

Victoria Waterfield - Evil of the Daleks

Zoe Heriot - The Wheel in Space

The Brigadier - The Web of Fear

Sergeant Benton - The Invasion

Liz Shaw - Spearhead from Space

Mike Yates - Terror of the Autons

Jo Grant - Terror of the Autons

Sarah-Jane Smith - The Time Warrior

Harry Sullivan - Robot

Leela - The Face of Evil

K9 - The Invisible Enemy

Romana I - The Ribos Operation

Romana II - Destiny of the Daleks

Adric - Full Circle

Nyssa - The Keeper of Traken

Tegan Jovanka - Logopolis

Vislor Turlough - Mawdryn Undead

Kamelion - The Kings Demons

Peri Brown - Planet of Fire

Mel Bush - Terror of the Vervoids

Ace McShane - Dragonfire

Grace Holloway - The TV Movie

Chang Lee - The TV Movie

NuWho

Rose Tyler - Rose

Mickey Smith - Rose

Adam Michell - Dalek

Jack Harkness - The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances

Martha Jones - Smith and Jones

Wilfred Mott - Voyage of the Damned

Donna Noble - The Runaway Bride

River Song - Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead

Amy Pond - The Eleventh Hour

Rory Williams - The Eleventh Hour

Kate Stewart - The Power of Three, if you want downtime, tough

Clara Oswald - ???

Bill Potts - The Pilot

Nardole - Husbands of River Song

Yasmin Khan - The Woman Who Fell to Earth

Graham O'Brien - The Woman Who Fell to Earth

Ryan Sinclair - The Woman Who Fell to Earth

Dan Lewis - Flux

Ruby Sunday - The Church on Ruby Road

Belinda Chandra - The Robot Revolution

EU

Charley Pollard - Storm Warning

C'rizz - The Creed of the Kromon

Evelyn Smythe - The Marian Conspiracy

Lucie Miller - Blood of the Daleks

Liv Chenka - Robophobia

Helen Sinclair - The Red Lady

Hex Schofield - The Harvest

Bernice Summerfield - Love and War

Chris Cwej - Original Sin

Fitz Kreiner - The Taint

Compassion - Interference

Anji Kapoor - Escape Velocity

Sam Jones - Vampire Science

Alison Cheney - Scream of the Shalka

Iris Wildthyme - Old Flames

Izzy Sinclair - Endgame

Frobisher - The Shape Shifter

[abbysreal-wife]

No fun

Prisoner!Abby x Cop!Reader

Fucked my way up to the top

Need you baby like I breathe you, baby

Need you, baby, more, more, more, more

—Lana Del Rey

—————-—————-—————-—————-

Summary::

Tags:: blood mentioned, and that’s about it….

A/N:: I saw a TikTok with that damn “mrs officerrrr” sound and I HAD to write abt it.

Little notes!:: I lowk stopped putting smut in my fics ever since that anon said I write it like im inexperienced with woman… like I think about that every week now… ts messed up my whole flow🙏🏾😕 this is also inspired by @look-me her fics are so good I js wanna gobble her up. (She hasn’t posted in a while but yk…)

Currently playing…

—————-—————-—————-—————-——

November 16th 6AM

Lights cut on. Blinding the women behind the metal bars. Abby groaned, she didn’t have a cell mate to worry about, anymore.

Especially after she beat the shit out of Ellie Williams for making a joke about her father.

Isolation for 2 days. That was it.

She was big, scary, some guards were just an inch terrified of this woman.

Abby Anderson.

Her name was known worldwide, well, realistically speaking “prisonwide” if you will.

When it was “free roam” for an hour, she wouldn’t be playing board games, or watching old television shows with the others.

She’d be the odd one out, always working out, keeping her cell organized, declining drugs.

That behavior was known as “weird” around here.

————————————————————————

September 6th your first day…

Everyone knew it was an unspoken rule to talk to the prisoners for over 2 minutes. Especially female cops.

“Why is that?” You asked curiously before taking a few mental notes.

Your other cop friend laughed in your face “Cause, 2 years ago a female cop talked with a prisoner for longer than 30 minutes—and then she ended up pregnant with his baby. So…”

“Oh, — your eyebrows furrowed “that’s, something.”

Sergeant shoved you playfully “no need to worry about that though, you’re working in the female cells”

It started with a simple “what do you want,Anderson?” Over the intercom.

Naw When Abby buzzed into it from her cell your face would light up.

November, 17th 2AM

“Can I sing a song to you?” Her tired voice buzzed through the device, you took your feet off the table and pressed the button, “no, go to bed”

She sighed “you’re no fun.”

3AM

Abby laid flat on her back, before getting an idea. An idea to annoy you.

“You know, Ms officer you’re the only person that answers me when your in office”

“I see why” you replied letting go of the red button once done.

Abby scoffed to herself “so rude—“goodnight”

You didn’t answer.

————————————————————————

November 18th 1PM

The cold tiled room was bare, damp and dimly lit with a washed out. Lamp that hung above the table.

“We need you with Anderson, she won’t talk to any officers and we need answers on why she did this.” Your friend came out of the room, you looked behind her, shoving the last bit of food you had in your mouth.

“What’d she do?” You curiously asked before making your way to the door.

“You’ll see.”

“Anderson.”

You tried to make your voice sound cold. And put on a non readable face.

Her head snapped towards the door, arms crossed across her chest, the white wife beater she wore had been spotted with blood and sweat.

“what took you so long to come here”

“I was on break, eating.”

“Eating what?”

You sighed “things.”

“I thought cops only eat donuts” she joked.

You rolled your eyes, putting the handcuffs on the metal table. “That’s just a stereotype, Anderson.”

“This is about you though. Okay?”

“What did you do, why are they threatening to send you to isolation?” Your tone was concerned as the air in the room changed, your voice raised.

Abby was still cold faced “I slapped the hell out of that bitch Mel. End of story, can I go back now?”

She stood “sit down, Anderson. I’m not done— your voice carried on “why’d you do it?”

Sitting down, she let out a long, deep sigh. The silenced was loud enough to hear the AC running.

“Because, she spread some bullshit rumor about me” you scoffed in disbelief “so you mean to tell me that you took a risk to get isolation just because of a rumor?.. what is this middle school?”

You were frustrated, her gaze softened as she looked away from embarrassment “I’m making them let you off with a warning, one chance only, if you fuck it up that’s your fault” your comment to her was irrelevant in her mind. She’s gonna do it again next week. She nodded anyways.

“Up, up now. We have to head back to your cell” you said grabbing the cold handcuffs off the table, she stood fast turning around as. Your hands worked against her wrist.

Walking out the room was a humiliation act, for once Abby felt little, all the cops and other prisoners staring at her.

Once you two made it to her cell, which also happens to be the cell at the end of the hall. She walked in and rubbed her wrist, it took everything in you to walk away, “wait— her voice spoke out as it echoed throughout the long empty space, you silently celebrated to yourself turning around.

“What do you want.”

She smirked “stay, please?” Please.

Not a very common word around here.

“Abby you know I can’t do th—“

“Is it also true that cops are no fun? Or is that just a stereotype as well” Abby taunted you, instantly, you gave in.

Maybe those 1 hour long conversations over the intercom did mean something.

————————————————————————

A/N:: smut will be in the next fic I post so don’t worry…. Gulp…..

@graciedollie @korn-dawg @liliofabby @lluxentzz @mewl3tte @ellieswife4ever @ellies-moth-to-a-flame @yokedtablet @doodl3wr1t3s @abigail-andersons-wife @andieprincessofpower @abbyanderswife @vyeris @lolitalovess

[forty-servants-free-readings]

Pick a pile

Is your future spouse watching tarot/oracle readings about you?

Pick a group to find out, your reading is under the cut. If you're interested in a short, free oracle reading - feel free to send question to my askbox, anon is on. Answers are extremely slow due to demand and busy personal life, from time to time I go on hiatus. There is also paid offer, explained in my pinned post - those readings will be prioritised. If you want to support me there is a PayPal link in my bio.

Pick a pile masterlist

Group 1 - The Protester

They don't watch such things and they are not thinking highly of it. They are rather against it. If you ever ask them they would protest very loudly.

Group 2 - The Healer

Normally they don't watch/read such things. Not that they are particularly against it, they just don't really find it interesting. However, during the times of distress when they don't know if they will have their happy ending, they might watch some just to give themselves some hope. As a therapy one could say.

Group 3 - The Devil

They might or might not watch, but whatever they do they are extreme about it. If they watch those they do so in dozens and cling to every single one, if they don't - then they are very closet minded about it and nothing can convince them.

Group 4 - The Thinker/The Explorer

They don't watch or read such things because they don't believe in them, simply. However, they might have at one point checked out some out of curiosity or they aren't completely closed minded about it.

Even if they watch it occasionally they don't give it much of their mind.

[imsosoheee]

running | s.es

22. you're here | wc: 982

a/n: im sorry guys the next 3 chapters are written but it's all to get the plot moving.. plz enjoy 😭 also yes yn is a bit annoying and unreasonably emotional here but it's because she just feels the weight of everything that's happened right now!!! and maybe it shows how much she cares :')

you stared at sohee's messages for a moment too long, realizing how quiet the library was.

earlier, the quiet had been peaceful. but now it was the kind of quiet that made the ticking of the clock unbearable. it sharpened the scratch of pencils and the shuffling of papers. it made your thoughts louder than they needed to be.

you tried to focus on the last set of questions eunseok had given you for econ, but your mind kept drifting back to him.

was he okay? did he go to the doctor? was he managing alone?

you even considered blaming beomgyu for not staying behind to take care of him—but you knew eunseok would never have allowed that.

your stomach twisted as you packed up your bag, deciding to head home for the day. you tried to plan out the rest of your evening—maybe eating the leftovers sungchan made, watching a movie before bed. but as you stepped outside the library, your phone rang.

“hello?” you answered immediately.

“yn?” sungchan’s voice was breathless. “are you at home?”

“i’m about to head there from the library. why?”

“eunseok…” he hesitated, like he was deciding whether or not to tell you. “he’s not picking up. hasn’t answered texts or calls for hours. beomgyu even tried the intercom, but still no response.”

your throat went dry. “he’s at his place, right? he didn’t go home?”

“yeah, he’s still there. we can see his location.”

“what’s the apartment number?” you asked, already making your way to the bus stop in a rush.

your brother paused. “you’re going over?”

“someone has to make sure he’s okay, right?"

“we can try calling again—”

“just send me the code? please.”

your voice had gone soft. there was another beat of silence before sungchan finally replied.

“beomgyu's texting it to you.”

it was cold outside. the wind bit into your skin as you made your way toward his apartment in the late evening gray—but you barely felt it.

you were gripping your phone so tightly your knuckles hurt, but you couldn’t seem to loosen your hand. you told yourself he was probably fine—just weak, just feverish—but the off-chance of something serious happening scared you more than anything.

the sweet and gentle eunseok should never have gotten sick. he's the kind of person who shouldn't have to experience anything harmful, you rationalize in your head. you began to wish it was you who got sick instead, so that eunseok could have been on the trip with everyone else and having fun. by the time you reached his door, your vision had blurred with tears you didn’t remember letting fall.

you blinked rapidly, willing yourself to hold it together. but as you punched in the code with trembling fingers, one tear slipped down your cheek.

“eunseok?” you called his name softly into the dark.

you stepped out of your shoes with shaking hands and quietly made your way to the room you were sure was his.

the apartment was silent. too silent. your sniffles were the only sound as you approached the door, a soft amber glow seeping through the crack at the bottom.

you tiptoed inside, and your breath caught.

he was curled on his side, half-buried under a twisted blanket. his hoodie was soaked through with sweat, hair plastered to his forehead. his face was pale beneath the fever’s flush, lips dry, breathing shallow.

you’d never seen him look so much like a boy.

your lip quivered as you kneeled beside the bed, reaching to press your palm to his forehead—burning. the heat radiating off of him made your stomach drop. how long has he been like this? how long has he been lying here, alone?

tears spilled freely now. you clasped his hand tightly between yours, heart racing.

“yn?”

his voice was weak, barely audible.

your head snapped up. “hi,” you whispered, voice shaking with relief. “hi.”

his eyes opened slightly. “you’re crying.”

“no,” you said quickly, blinking fast. “no, i’m fine. just—get some rest.”

he gave a small smile, clumsily reaching out with his other hand to wipe the tears from your cheek. “don’t cry,” he mumbled. “i’m okay. you’re here.”

you almost broke.

“have you had any medicine? anything to eat?” you asked, voice cracking.

he shook his head faintly.

you exhaled shakily. “okay. sleep a little more. i’ll take care of everything.”

“he’s okay,” you told sungchan quietly over the phone, your voice low as you stood in the kitchen. “he has an insane fever and he’s drenched in sweat, but he’ll be okay. i’m about to make him porridge and give him some medicine.”

“are you okay?” sungchan asked after a pause.

you looked toward the bedroom. your eyes softened.

“yeah, yeah. we both are."

you spoon-fed him porridge patiently, coaxing him to finish even when he mumbled half-asleep. you helped him wash his face in the bathroom, held his arm when he swayed. you found his medicine in the cabinet and gave him small sips of water between each pill.

you helped him change shirts, gently wiping his neck and chest with a cool towel. when he curled back into bed, you tucked him in and sat beside him, switching out the towel every ten minutes.

"i was gonna go on the trip, you know..." he mumbled. "but you weren't anymore," he confessed before closing his eyes.

it was well past midnight when his fever finally broke. you quietly crawled into the empty space beside him, curling up on your side, fully clothed. he shifted in his sleep, turning toward you instinctively.

you stayed still.

and then—he reached for your hand. your eyes opened in surprise, but his stayed closed. his fingers found yours blindly under the blanket and curled around them.

you didn’t say anything—you just held him back.

running next back

a/n: tomorrow's chapter.. MUAHAHAH you will love it

🔖: @jaellymint @haruharua @banez @karebearyu @yoursyuno @rksbae @kamelyrics @kkunyangz @alwayswonbinning @ch2won @nujeskz @smiles4hyuck

[animalsalvationassociation]

does Tweak glow-in-the-dark like in the books in your AU?

my idea is the reason why her dad, Ranger Marsh didn't like technology in his introduction is he spent like the first twelve years of his life in a lab with a bunch of technology before escaping with one of the scientists kid, Tweaks mom who I'm calling Katy for now. so Marsh(or Mason when he was young) was a jellyfish rabbit experiment where he has jellyfish DNA that makes him green and glow-in-the-dark. that's a real thing, search up jellyfish rabbits. so Tweak inherited the jellyfish DNA and subconsciously hides it from the others because her parents always told her never to tell anyone about the glow-in-the-dark thing.

“Does Tweak Glow in the Dark?”

[ DO NOT REPOST, ALL ART & CONCEPTS WERE MADE BY ME ]

Digital Illustration Time: 14hrs 10min

I have two answers for you, it's kind of like a choose your own adventure in a way. There's the "haha silly way", and then there's the serious way (this one I actually lean more towards, because it gives something to write about, but I love them both).

(Tweak’s headcanons/backstory will be linked at the bottom! I totally recommend reading it because it gives a little bit of light on Marsh and her lovely mama, Terry)

Silly Answer:

When Tweak was a kid she drank a bunch of glow sticks, thinking she'd get superpowers, and instead poisoned herself. Only to find out later that she did somehow gain "super powers", but the only super power she has is glowing in the dark. 🤣 Leading to a running joke that she still believes she could get super powers but it based only on the color of glowstick. (A Superhero Au idea anyone?~ lol)

Serious Answer:

I can only think of one other solution to this question . . . Radiation poisoning.

She was a teenager at the time and it was summer vacation. The heat got to them fast, so Tweak and her friends would go off to swim every day seeing as it was the best way to cool off. They'd stay out until sunset exploring the Everglades like it was their backyard, and let's be honest it basically was.

But little did they know even dipping your toes would end in disaster. Over the course of the summer people would start getting sick, really sick, including themselves. One day Tweak fainted, and when she woke up, her dad had driven her all the way to the clinic to get checked out.

It took them a while to figure out what was wrong, but by the end of the summer almost the entire town was locked up in the hospital with radiation poisoning. Thankfully her dad wasn't too badly effected, a few dizzy spells here and there, headaches, and nausea. Unfortunately Tweak herself got the worst of it.

They would find out later that a nearby factory had begun leaking radiation into the water and surrounding areas. The factory had already been known for it's harmful ways on the Everglades and the creatures that lived there. The people in charge didn't really care for the environment, so they didn't mind sending their men out to dump waste into the rivers and surrounding forests. The factory was shut down but the damage had already been done.

One of the side effects, depending on how exposed you were, was glowing fur/skin. Now yes, radiation and even Radium (if you've ever heard of the Radium Girls) aren't actually supposed to make you glow unless you are exposed to high levels, and even when you're exposed it's not always prominent to the naked eye.

However, as you might've guessed, Tweak was HEAVILY exposed and it was bad. She was one of the few who began developing ARS (Acute Radiation Syndrome). (Sadly some of her friends also developed this as well)

Symptoms:

Weakness/Fatigue.

Nausea and Vomiting

Vomiting blood

Rectal bleeding (bloody stools)

Diarrhea

Fever

Confusion

Hair loss

(Pretty unsavory stuff, huh?)

I think once she and her dad realized what it was, she immediately started getting treatment for it. But by that time is was already affecting her. Some days it's so bad that she can’t even walk without using a cane or crutches. Low and behold that's actually one of the reasons why Tweak doesn't do very many missions at the beginning of the series.

I think for a good long while she actually doesn't tell anyone except probably the captain. She trusts him more than the others at first. Overtime she does let her team in on her little secret, but I can confidently say, the very next person she told was Kwazii.

She's doing better now, like I said some days are better than others. Over the few years that the team has been together, there have only been a small handful of close calls. On difficult days she has fainted before, those are specifically her rest days. As soon as she's on the floor, everyone's main priority is getting her into a bed, and it doesn't always have to be her's. Sometimes it's just the one that's closest.

The team has been more than supportive, I would say especially Kwazii and Shellington. Kwazii being her go to when she needs help walking around or doing tasks, while Shellington is more of a vent buddy. He has his own disabilities so he knows how hard it is to function sometimes. It's really been something they've been able to bond over.

That being said, Kwazii does tease her a lot, but it's out of love. He knows that it sucks to feel stuck in one place and he doesn't ever want her to feel like she can't do things. Especially because her ARS has basically morphed into several other conditions, some of which she's still learning about. So most of the ARS is gone, but because she was exposed for so long she began to develop other issues.

(Peso must be so worried over her omg)

Honesty at the end of the day . . . I claim both ideas for her. I think it would be funny if she consumed glow sticks as a kid (because that just sounds like something she'd do) and then got radiation poisoning as a teen. So in my head, she knows she could get super powers (so she claims) but doesn't try it because she doesn't want to experience the after effects of the chemicals, because of the crap the radiation has put her through.

It's both hilarious and sad to me lol – Anyways let me know your thoughts. I wanted to give this an actual answer, because this comic took me so long to accomplish. Most of those 14hrs came from just the first panel, and that's the main reason I put this off for so long, because I was so frustrated with it. But that's what art's about right? It's trail and error, and boy was there a lot of error!

Thank you again @hannahstales ! I really do appreciate your ask! I've been looking for an excuse to do another "documentary" styled "ask "answer" for the Octonauts! Heaven knows I spend way too much time on lore that I forget to make my asks seem like they actually take place within the universe.

[ Tweak: References Old / New — Headcanons ]

[ This is a Octonauts AU, in no way is this canon to the OG storyline. ]