#whoever has it for the day is a matter of sheer chance

[vhstown]

ain't no love; pt. 1

"ain't no love in the heart of the city"

— miles g morales x gn!reader series

SUMMARY: Miles Morales is just a kid without a father; the Prowler is just a "rotten" vigilante. Both of them start coming into your life — one in the middle of the semester, and the other by total accident.

SERIES MASTERLIST 📼 PART 1 / PART 2 →

chapter summary: [READER POV] The one day you decide to skip breakfast, your deskmate comes in. AP Calc has never been more unbearable — and interesting.

content/warnings: brief mentions of death, depictions of hunger, a little bullying </3

word count: 4.8k

a/n: first series idk what im doing BUT WE ROLL (criticisms accepted lmao) proofread courtesy of @qiuweyballs you're a real one

You were starving. In AP Calc, no less, with probably the least talkative bunch of students in the whole school, the period before lunch. Whoever made your schedule was a monster, and whoever put this class together was even more of a monster. Everyone was dead silent, which was usually fine, but not when your stomach was threatening to detonate a nuclear grumble. Maybe it’d even echo given how big the classroom was. It was too early in the year to have a mental breakdown, though — you’d save that for midterms.

Even the teacher found the silence awkward, muttering to himself as you walked into the dreary classroom. He was a bit of a pushover, Mr. Wellston — a newbie who really had no idea what he was doing besides fixing his unevenly cut hair every two seconds while everyone pretended to know what was going on. God bless AP Calculus; you didn’t even know how to do the starter activity on the board.

But your teacher’s ridiculous inadequacy didn’t matter right now. The most important decision you had to make was what poor soul you were going to look at sideways when everyone turned to the source of the growl. Being nice wasn’t exactly an option when you were 3 seconds away from dying of starvation.

Thankfully, you were at the back, and the only seat next to you was empty. It wasn’t so bad, you tried convincing yourself as other students started to fill up the seats in front of you. Maybe you'd even forget about how hungry you were if you engrossed yourself in "one of the most riveting fields of mathematics", as advertised by your freshman year math teacher. Just one hour. You could hold back your hunger for one hour.

"Attendance..." Wellston murmured, looking around the room without much attention. It was reasonable to assume was here as usual, except for one kid who'd been absent since the first week. "Morales" — you didn't know his first name, not like you had the chance to learn it.

Scribbling down whatever activity there was, a part of you was glad this kid wasn't here today. It was one less person to hear the result of your unfortunate choice to not have breakfast this morning. You'd never spoken to the kid, but everyone knew why he wasn’t here. The renowed "hero", PC Davis had passed away — his dad. It was all over the news: "PDNY OFFICER DIES SAVING A CHILD", around mid-freshman year. You couldn't guess what was going on with the kid almost 2 whole semesters into sophomore year, but you couldn’t exactly think too hard when your pen had barely touched the page, and your other hand was clawing into the side of your shirt.

You were sure your stomach was going to growl, and loud. And your teacher was looking at you. Pretty much every muscle in your face was straining. You probably looked insane, which you’d actually rather be right now. The worst he would make was a bad joke, but the sheer panic that rose in your chest when Mr. Wellston started to walk towards you made your heels dig into the ground, ready to bolt out the class. You were exhausted, anxious, praying to anything you could think of that your teacher would just turn around and stop looking at you and—

Creak... Everyone's eyes, including Mr. Wellston's, turned to the door. You could make out someone with a black jacket — teacher? They wouldn’t let you wear jackets inside. Not important. Water.

"Nice seeing you here, Morales," Wellston said, his expression as unamused as he could attempt. The pushover was feeling confident today.

You drank so much water that it got stuck in your throat for a moment, making you scrunch up your face. "I'd take off that jacket if I were you,” Wellston continued.

The boy obliged with an incoherent mumble, stepping into the classroom and slipping off his jacket. His eyes landed on the seat right next to you. Even if he wasn't looking at you, something about his gaze made you look away immediately. Great. 53 minutes until lunch. Why did he have to show up today? Why did you wake up late and skip breakfast? A part of you was telling you it’d be better to not blame it on this guy either — maybe it was your gut. Ha-ha. Maybe you were insane.

Screeech! The slap of a notebook next to you snapped you out of your mini-spiral. You were now all the more aware of the boy next to you. His attendance was so low that it competed with your will to live, so you couldn’t help but look. His hair was in two braids slipping just past his collar, but that’s all you dared to notice. They were kind of cool, you admitted to yourself. The muttering was quickly shut down by a grating "Focus!" from Wellston, and you tried to get back to your work.

Calculus, calculus... When was the last time you’d gotten a question right? All you could do was keep uselessly pressing the fraction button on your calculator, watching the empty boxes stack up. It felt like he was staring at you. Math, come on, you know math. What was the probability he was looking at you? What if he was just glancing at you? What was his eye colour? Black or dark brown, probably. You could check — if he was staring, of course. Not his eye colour. That'd be weird.

That tight feeling built up in your stomach like the foreshock of an earthquake. You pictured yourself slamming your head into the desk, far too vividly to be normal — like an insane person. No need to traumatise the “new” kid on his first day back.

"Alright class, considering we have a full house now," You stopped yourself from imagining Wellston’s head slammed into a desk. "I suggest you all try to solve this problem. It's the hardest question that's ever come up on Calc BC, and you're getting secret access to it."

Yeah, like you cared. This man did not have a lesson plan, as usual. Now you had to fight the urge to look at the kind of cool kid next to you, fight your hunger like a famished Victorian child and fight the stupid calculations forming a jumbled mess in your brain. You were fighting a lot of things, and losing miserably. Just looking at the question made your brain hurt, and you could see it in the rest of your class too. All Calc BC nerds who were just now realising their mistake in taking this class with this particular teacher, probably. Visions was a scam.

"Does anyone have an answer?" It hadn't even been two minutes; it was like the man just wanted to feel smarter than everyone else. Something about him today was even more annoying than the pitiful jokes he usually came up with ― just because a "new" kid came in? Maybe this was to make up for the first day of class where he totally embarrassed himself mumbling all lesson, the bell ringing overtop of him.

The awkward silence and the slight cocky curl to the corner of Mr. Wellston's mouth made you question why they hired someone who was fresh out of college to teach you the classes that were supposed to get you into college. Your frustration only grew when you were going in circles with your attempt.

"No? Guys, you that you have a midterm soon." Helpful.

"This is more simple than you think." Explain it, then?

"Nobody? Really? Okay, you really should start paying attention, the―"

"Six." You almost forgot about the kid next to you until he spoke up. He put down his pen, giving Wellston an expectant look while the whole class was silent.

"…Six what?"

"Litres per hour."

The man quickly shuffled to his computer. Of course he didn't know the answer either.

"Six litres per hour," Wellston confirmed. No other kid had a chance to retort. Wellston seemed surprised for once. A part of you was surprised too at how simple the answer sounded when it came out of the "new" kid's mouth. You noticed that the boy didn't even have a calculator.

"Well, it looks like you all have something to learn from Morales here," he continued, something almost like contempt in his words. "Do you want to explain how you got that?"

The boy went about explaining it pretty simply, almost like he was reading off of a script. It was concise, different to what you'd learnt. Something about chain rule, which you truthfully had no idea how to actually use because someone didn't bother to go through it properly. Even if you were still somewhat unsure, it sounded easy enough.

"Interesting method..." Wellston murmured, trailing off for a moment. "Well, that settles it then. Do you guys understand how we got six?"

We? This guy... Aside from the fact that he was looking at you a little too much for comfort (probably because you were still clutching your stomach like you’d been shot) you had another reason to be annoyed by this teacher and his stupid hair. Everyone just returned his question with silent nods and mumbles, people taking opportunities to actually look at the calc-wiz.

You took a chance too, looking over at his seemingly unbothered face. You were almost right about the brown eyes. They were more coppery than anything, maybe even a little green. If he was staring before, you couldn't tell, his gaze trailing his desk with disinterest. Why did his eye colour even matter?

Forty minutes of class to go. You felt like you could eat your calculator at this point. The mystery kid didn't seem to need one anyway, and you weren’t getting much use out of it.

BRIIIIIIIIIING!

"The bell doesn't―" The screeching of chairs cut him off.

Like that would work this far into the semester. The Morales kid was already gone by the time you'd stood up. Letting out a drawn-out sigh, you debated between your tiredness and hunger. Would you try to fight to the death to get to the front of the lunch queue? All you wanted was food, maybe a nap afterwards, definitely no more calculus.

That couldn't happen, of course. For some reason, you were the only one left in class. You heard your name, wincing a little as you stopped in your journey out of the door.

"I just want to speak for a moment, spare me a few minutes?" You figured this was coming. It looked like he wanted to speak to you about something all class; his expressions weren’t exactly mysterious like that new kid. You wanted nothing more than to strangle him with his ugly patterned tie as you walked over to him.

Mr. Wellston leaned on his desk by his elbows, lowering his voice as if he was about to tell you something serious.

"You're not doing very well in this class." Okay… not that serious. "It’s the longer questions, I think. FRQs.”

Your grogginess made it impossible to focus on Wellston’s rant, but what you did pick up on was his weird accent. You guessed he wasn’t from Brooklyn, but the way he was talking right now let you pick up on the strange intonation in his voice you otherwise wouldn’t care to notice. Almost European-sounding. First that kid's eye colour and now your teacher's accent... what was it with you and random details today?

"So..." he continued, looking up at you with his head still low. "I'm going to start an extra class after school. I want you to come to it." Okay, this is worse. You couldn't have lunch, and now you couldn't even have after school.

"When is it?" It better not be some unreasonable time.

"Well, I've only got Friday afternoon free. You know how it is, meetings..." If he was trying to be apologetic, or convincing, he was failing at both. "I'll call you in later to discuss it further."

You just nodded, the grip on your backpack tightening. "Okay."

"It's important that you come!”

His voice was drowned out by the flood of students in the hall as you shut the door, turning on your heel to head to the cafeteria. The line was probably impossibly long by now. You couldn't care less about that extra Friday class. Forget college. You'd be a bum, or work at a WcDonalds. You'd probably make more money than Mr. Wellston there anyway. Forget Visions.

Forget that Morales kid who was standing outside the door all that time while you were too frustrated to notice.

You slumped down onto an empty table as you tried to rid your mind of him.

The probability that he'd show up to class with his cool braids and coppery-green eyes again was too low for you to care anyway.

"Soy Miles. Miles Morales."

Calc-wiz, or Miles as you just found out, was also in your Spanish class, and was also sitting directly behind you. It seemed like he was coming into more classes than he had been all semester — good for him?

"Morales… ¿Eres hispano, Miles?" (Are you Hispanic, Miles?) Miles simply nodded while Mrs Hernández flicked through the worksheets, licking her finger to set them down on individual desks. Spanish was one of the classes you actually liked. Apart from your classmates, Mrs Hernández was funny, and a good teacher, even if she was a little strict.

She paused for a moment to look at Miles again, eyebrow raised. "¿Guatemala?"

"Puerto Rico." The woman's raised eyebrow fell along with the rest of her expression, eyes narrowing in disappointment. She was always talking about where she was from, Guatemala. You found it kind of endearing, though you weren't sure if she'd get any teaching done if there was another kid from there.

"All these years y nadie de Guatemala..." (and nobody from Guatemala...) She simply frowned, cracking her knuckles while making her way back to the front. Most of the people taking AP Spanish were Hispanic, just trying to get extra credits, but it seemed like Mrs. Hernández was out of luck when it came to finding her natural favourite. "Vale clase, quiero que miren este articulo sobre―" (Okay class, I want you to look at this article about―)

All that class you felt like Miles was staring at the back of your head, of course. If he wasn't uncomfortably silent, he was conversing with Mrs Hernández, and she came over more than once to talk to him behind you. As much as you wanted to overhear, they were talking too quietly and quickly — and in Spanish. What they were talking about wasn't your business — most likely about his absence. You had also no idea what this article was talking about. It was something about art, but most of the words you were reading were unfamiliar as your highlighter hovered uselessly over the paper.

It had almost been a week since Miles first came in. You constantly saw him get pulled out of class or talking to teachers — except in AP Calc; it seemed like he was doing just fine there. He could speak Spanish fine too, but was behind on everything else. Other than teachers, he never really talked to anyone. You occasionally saw him with his earbuds on in the hallways, but more often his jacket was what got him chased down by teachers; the kid didn’t really seem to care. Good for him. He was probably more ahead of you anyway given the way your studies were going.

“Oye, look a little alive!” You noticed Mrs Hernandéz standing over you, and that your highlighter bleeding through the paper from pressing too long. A half-hearted “lo siento” (sorry) is all you could offer. “Extraño (strange) — What's different today, chicos? Is it because you’ve got a new friend here?” She crossed her arms, eyeing everyone with her brows knitted together.

The atmosphere around Miles was strange. Not only was he known for being missing since freshman year, but also for his late father. It wasn’t a secret, as much as he didn’t talk about it. Everyone could tell from the way teachers whispered to him and how he disappeared to the counsellor’s office that he wasn’t treated like any other student here. In fact, he didn’t even live in the dorms according to what you’d heard. He was quiet, but the rumours were undeniably loud. You tried not to involve yourself — you hadn’t even spoken to him yourself, anyway.

“He’s not the only Puerto Rican. You gonna forget about us, Señora?” The voice made you hold back a sigh. When Rafael started speaking there was no stopping him. You figured it was time; no matter how far he was moved from his friends, he always found a way to talk to them from the other side of the classroom. He was also right next to you. You had a few reasons to want to drop this class, and each of them were all going “yeah” in agreement to what Rafael had to say.

“I think you’ve forgotten that you have an article in front of you, Rafa.” You couldn’t help but crack a smile at your teacher’s words, and nickname. To your dismay, Rafael noticed you immediately.

“You makin’ fun of me, bro?” He turned his head to stare at you.

“Rafael,” Hernandéz warned.

“Nah, Señora, you don’t get it, I should be sitting over there.”

She wasn’t amused by the way he was gesturing to his friends. “I’ll kick you out.”

“Come on man…” He just threw up his hands and sunk into his far too tiny chair. You prayed he wouldn't start rocking on it and make that god-awful creaking sound. Mrs. Hernández simply turned to ignore him and continue with class.

“Why’s he special anyway?” Rafael mumbled to himself. “Famous cause of his dad?”

Tension – it was so thick you could cut it. The only thing that was cutting through it, apart from your Spanish teacher’s rant, was Miles’ gaze. You could feel it burning right through you. It seemed like Rafael, the moron, for some twisted reason, wanted Miles to hear that.

If you had anything to say at all, it was too late to give Rafael a piece of your mind. Considering how quickly he'd shut you down, it would be useless to stick up for some kid you barely knew. Nobody else heard Rafael anyway; it'd just pit everyone against you. Still, a part of you felt bad. Even though you didn’t really know Miles, he was in a lot of your classes. You’d gotten used to his presence over the past week: moving out of the way so he could get to his seat, occasionally picking up each other’s fallen pens, giving unshared glances to see how the other was doing on the work.

He seemed nice enough despite the lack of words you'd exchanged, but when you turned a little to fix your chair, the expression you caught was anything but. It was almost scary, if you could make out anything from his darkened features. There was a strange sense of focus in his eyes, like he was calculating something – deliberating. You didn't try to guess what, keeping silent and trying to listen to Mrs. Hernández talk about the article while ignoring the deadly gaze simmering behind you.

If you were stronger, scarier, more influential, maybe you’d punch one through Rafael right now. Just looking at him was irritating, and it's not like you hadn't thought of it before. Maybe you wouldn’t have to, though, because it seemed like Miles was thinking the exact same thing. As much as you wanted to learn Spanish and not have a fight happen right next to you, it’d be nice if he was able to teach Rafael to shut up instead of the material he didn't seem to care about.

Miles didn’t look particularly strong — he was kind of scary-looking right now, but that didn’t mean he could take on a 6ft tall football player, no matter how pissed off said football player made him. You couldn't tell what he was thinking, but Miles stayed put for the rest of class; it felt like a sniper was right behind you.

The all-too-familiar creak of the chair made you automatically grit your teeth.

“Oy, mi pana, you got gum?” Rafael murmured to you in his worst friendly voice. It was 10 minutes till the end of class, and he was asking now? You still had no idea what pana meant since he moved next to you, but the way he said it always made you feel icky regardless.

You quickly shook your head, getting a sigh out of him. You hoped he’d give up, but he just leaned over to whisper to you. “What do you think of that dude, huh?

“What?”

“Strange, yeah?”

“He’s okay.” Your defence was quiet, but it was the most you could do as you heard Miles scribbling right behind you.

“He’s drawing, dude.”

You looked at him almost incredulously. Rafael just rolled his eyes.

“Why do you care?” Your voice came out louder than you wanted.

“¡Silencio!” You gave Mrs. Fernandez, another one of your muffled “lo siento”s, shrinking into your seat as her eyes locked onto you. Snickering from Rafael’s friends only fuelled the embarrassment surging through your cheeks. Miles shuffled in his seat behind you, followed by the sound of paper being crumpled up. You wanted to crumple up the smug expression plastered on Rafael's face right now.

Class ended with another stack of homework in your backpack, and you were more than happy to leave. Free period — you could get a start on the homework. Or talk to Wellston about that extra class. The thought made you wince, but you didn’t exactly have a choice. You had to see him by the end of the day.

“Ay, Milo!” You turned to see Rafael and his little group approaching Miles’ desk. “What’s good?”

“Nothing.” He kept his voice low, pushing his chair under the desk. The boys just laughed as he got up, a grating mix of malice and mirth.

“Right, right. Puerto Rican, eh?” It sounded like Rafael was just talking for the sake of talking. You were also standing for the sake of standing too, of course.

Miles let out a mumble as a confirmation of sorts. Heading for the door, he was blocked by Rafael.

“Ay, where you goin’? Let’s talk, huh? Got a free period?” You could see Miles’ eyes narrow, a flash of impatience in his demeanour before he let out a breath. Rafael was trying to get a kick out of this. A kick out of some kid with a dead dad.

“Someone’s waiting for me.”

“Huh? What’d you say? You got friends?” The start of more laughs were already forming around Miles.

You didn’t know what came over you. Maybe it was the regret of not saying anything earlier, or the strange intrigue you’d felt since a week ago. Peeking your head through the door, you took a step back into the classroom. “Miles, c’mon.”

The gnawing feeling only intensified as you felt four sets of eyes on you at the same time. You’d rather it be hunger than the anxiety coursing through you at that moment.

“Comin',” he murmured, shoving past the three boys towards the door.

The two of you left the classroom, hearing a faint “what the hell man?” as the door fell shut. Miles lingered behind you as you approached the next turn in the hallway.

“What’s your name?” He’d already stepped in front of you.

No thanks or anything? Well, he didn't really owe you anything. It was "the right thing to do", like the many anti-bullying posters around the school encouraged you to do. God damn Visions.

“You uh… know my name.”

“Wanna hear it from you.” His voice had a little twinge of an accent that you hadn’t noticed before. You tried not to think too hard on it. Too many details for too little of an interaction.

“You’ve gotta introduce yourself first — pretty sure that’s how it works,” you tried to joke, something like embarrassment replacing the lingering anxiety in your stomach.

“I did — in class.” Miles’ face was unreadable, but there was something like amusement in his voice.

“Not to me specifically, though.”

The two of you stood in the hallway as people ushered past you. A freshman almost hit you running past, making the two of you retreat to stand beside some lockers. Damn freshmen. You were a freshman only last year, but shoving past them in the cafeteria wasn’t exactly fun. Miles seemed unbothered, as he usually did.

“You seriously don’t know my name?” you continued, almost frowning a little.

“Let’s say I don’t.” He leaned back against the cold blue metal of the lockers, tilting his head at you. The tiny mannerism only made your embarrassment grow. “What’s your name, pana?”

“…I still don’t know what that means.” The frustrated sigh you let out made the corner of his mouth curl up.

“And I still don’t know your name, pana.” No wonder you didn’t bother to talk to anyone. It seemed like you never had the upper hand, first with Rafael and now with Miles. Truthfully, though, you knew which you’d rather talk to.

“Sounds like a food,” you continued, shrugging.

“Could be,” he pretended to muse. And to think you thought he was nice. You hadn’t decided to be annoyed yet, though.

“You know my name, Miles.” You must’ve looked funny the way you crossed your arms and furrowed your eyebrows, because that got an entertained breath out of him.

“Who’s Miles? Haven’t introduced myself yet.” His smirk wrote guilty all over his face.

“Milo, then?” It was a bit harsh, but his cockiness made you say it without much thought. The apology was written on your face already, and you unfolded your arms, deciding you couldn’t have Mrs. Hernandéz’s sass today.

“You wanna be called pana forever?” He slipped an earbud into one of his ears, the blue light flickering into life. At least you didn’t tick him off.

“Not like I care,” you murmured, trying to take a step away.

“Seems like you do.”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” you asked, trying to keep your tone in check as you glanced down the hallway.

“Do you?” You felt like you were talking into a mirror, one that reflected back a person that got all the more mysterious and annoying when you did.

“Yeah, actually.” Mr. Wellston’s class. The thought made your eyes narrow, probably in exhaustion, most likely in irritation. “Need to speak to a teacher.”

His brow raised in mild interest. “You in trouble?”

“I wish. It’s about some extra class I have to take.”

“Calc?” You turned to look at him again, and his expression was more knowing than curious now.

“How’d you guess…?” It sounded more like a statement, your tone more disappointed than surprised. Were you really that bad at Calculus? Maybe you did need this class, especially if calc-wiz thought so.

“…You have lunch today?” he thought to ask instead. For a moment, you were confused, until you remembered calc last week.

“Shut up.” Your cheeks burned, hand balling up the fabric of your uniform. God. Damn it. All.

“Aight, sorry.”

More silence. You should’ve blamed the growling on him.

“Why the class though? You failing?”

“I’m not failing… Just need some help, I guess” Your shrug wasn’t very reassuring.

“Anyone else goin’?” The longer he kept inquiring, the more you figured Mr. Wellston’s attitude was building up.

“No clue. Bet everyone else is gonna join, though. He’ll probably tell everyone anyway.” The people in your class were quiet, but desperate to out-do each other. Maybe the problem wasn’t you, but the fact that everyone else was trying so hard.

“He didn’t ask me.” The corner of his mouth dimpled into his cheek in thought.

“You’re good at calc anyway.”

“Haven’t been here a while, so I gotta catch up, right? Lemme come with.”

You tried to think of what to say as your hand found the back of your neck, but he was already walking past you. Miles looked back at you to see if you were following.

If he had somewhere to be, it didn’t seem to matter. You noted the slight rhythm to his step, wondering what he was listening to, and if his eyes were green or brown. Ripping away your gaze from him before you could chase that thought, you tried to dodge all the freshmen running around as the bell went for next period.

You had more questions than answers so far — both in your backpack to do this period and in your mind. Aside from Miles, you wondered what that extra class would be like, and what Wellston would say. A part of you hoped that Miles would be in that class with you, despite your less than favourable introduction. Maybe you’d figure out why the answer was six litres an hour. Maybe you could be friends.

What was the probability of that? Some questions couldn’t be solved with a calculator. But Miles didn’t need one, after all.

thank you for reading. im so tired of looking at this but its okay part 1 !!! hooray !!! next chapter is miles pov .... need more Substances in my Bloodstream before i post that though LMAO

reblogs appreciated!!!! go back to the series masterlist here or to my atsv masterlist here :)

[avocado-writing]

the king and the nanny: ch2

bowser x gn!reader

1.75k words

part 2 of 4

rated: T (for now)

summary: you’re happy with your lot as nanny to the koopalings... until a chance encounter with the king sets your life off in a very different trajectory. this time, you're off on a race.

like what i do? buy me a kofi

You think it will be a while before you really see Bowser again. He is the king after all, he has important duties to see to. More important than you anyway, you tell yourself, resigned.

Imagine your surprise, then, when you walk into the game room and see him on the very beanbag you had him sat on last night, playing a video game with Junior. 

Your name is spread as a chorus as the other Koopalings greet you, causing both Bowser and his youngest son to finally tear their attention away from the screen. Junior cheers and runs towards you as the king fights the unruly seat to get to his feet. 

“Hey, Junior. You busy beating your dad at golf minigames?”

“Sure am!”

“Well, hey now, ‘beating’ is a strong—”

Bowser goes quiet as you scoop Junior up and rest him on your hip. He blinks. 

“You can, uh, pick him up?”

“Of course,” you reply, “I’d have no chance if I couldn’t, would I?”

Bowser stares at your biceps, struck dumb in the moment, and your mind flits to the weight bench you have in your private quarters to train for this job. 

“Huh,” Bowser says. There’s that look in his eyes again. The one that you saw the other night. You can feel yourself getting pretty warm, so you quickly wipe your hair out of your face and turn to the Koopalings, hoping to get a handle on the situation.

“What is everyone doing today?”

“Oh!” Lemmy announces, “Seeing as we’re all here, can we go karting?”

The older kids usually do what they want to, and it generally involves terrorising whoever they can get their hands on, but at this suggestion they all look up.  You purse your lips and pretend to consider. Really; they don’t have to ask your permission to do anything, but it’s nice that they respect you enough to still hold that power. 

“Alright then.”

A cheer goes up throughout the room and the kids start to pick themselves up to leave the room. Junior looks up at his dad. 

“Are you coming too, dad?”

“Oh!” says Bowser, as if he hadn’t considered, “Well, uh…”

And he, the king, looks at you for permission too. You hide your smile of endearance behind one of enthusiasm. 

“I think that’s a wonderful idea, s— Bowser.”

Bowser lights up, his grin full of teeth and a sincerity that makes your heart flutter. As the kids run ahead, you and Bowser fall into step at the rear. You were worried things would be awkward, considering your… evolving feelings; instead you find yourself lapsing into easy chatter. 

“It’s not that I’m not pleased to see you, your majesty—” because you are, you really are, “—but don’t you have more pressing matters to deal with? Armies and the like?”

“Oh, it’s their union mandated day off, it’s fine.”

It takes a moment for that to register. 

“Union?”

“Yeah. What, you not a part of the union?”

Bowser blinks, genuinely surprised.  

“I didn’t realise there was one.”

“Whoa, you’ve got to join! It’s important that you’re unionised. The union is why we’ve got Taco Tuesday now. I’ll hook you up with the koopa that runs it, he’s a solid dude.”

He slows down when he notices you’ve stopped moving. You’ve been stunned to stillness. 

“What?”

“Nothing! I just… I guess I didn’t expect that sort of organisation to be here.”

“Well, of course,” he drops his voice and moves in close. You know this is realistically because he’s trying to be surreptitious, but the sudden proximity makes your heart skip a beat, “You know there’s thousands of them, right? I’m super strong and whatever but in sheer numbers they could kick my ass.”

He winces and looks around to make sure none of his kids caught him using a bad word, relaxes a bit when he sees he’s gotten away with it. You laugh. You could get used to this side of him. 

“Okay, I’ll check it out.”

The racing room is merely a turn away, and the two of you walk towards the start line of the huge track he’s had built into his castle for his kids to race on. The Koopalings are setting up their karts, and Bowser walks over to his own before hesitating. Just as he turns to ask you something —

“Will you ride with me?” asks Junior, who’s appeared at your feet. He’s doing those big puppy dog eyes, the ones you can’t say no to. 

“Aww, I was gonna ask that,” huffs Wendy. You grin. It’s nice to be so high in demand.

“Next time, Wendy. Promise?”

You keep your promises, so she seems happy with the deal. Junior grabs your hand and excitedly drags you over to his kart where you carefully settle in behind him, careful not to hurt yourself on his spikes. They’re not as sharp as his dad’s but you don’t fancy testing it. Slowly everyone pulls up to the start line. You pat Junior reassuringly on the shoulder. 

“Let’s get 'em, buddy.”

Junior grins and gives you a thumbs up, then gets ready to go.

The lights above you count down and you grip the sides of the kart as Junior revs the engine. When he stamps down on the accelerator the force of it pushes you back into your seat, but you find yourself chuckling breathlessly. God, he’s fast! But he easily takes every corner he comes up against - except for one narrow escape where the sidework scrapes against the barrier and you have to raise your leg up just in time - drifting like it’s a sixth sense. Really, it’s pretty impressive considering his age. 

You take a look around the track. You’re neck-and-neck for third with Bowser, Ludwig and Roy in front. The king catches you looking and grins, accelerating harder and nosing into the lead against your little tag team.

You take that as a challenge.

“Get the box!” you shout, watching a series of rainbow, shining crates beginning to raise onto the track. 

“On it!” Junior replies, skidding the card round another bend and through the power-up. You quickly look down to see what you’ve got - mushroom! Not bad.

“Brace yourself!” 

You watch Junior hold onto the wheel even tighter, then slam your item down. It shatters as you get a violent burst of speed, and a torrent of wild, unrestrained laughter peals from your mouth. You overtake Bowser easily - but with just enough time for you to turn around and poke your tongue out at him. He looks flabbergasted, but then his smile just gets wider.

Ludwig only got banana peels, naturally, so he’s been throwing them over his shoulder like his life depends on it. Junior weaves between them easily but one lands right under Roy’s right wheel, causing him to skid out and fall back a few places. You hear him begin to curse in frustration and you make a note to have a word with him later about that language; right now you have a race to win.

Two-thirds of the way through the course. The finish line isn’t far. The two of you pass through another crate and you find yourself in possession of a green shell. You grip it in your dominant hand and rise unsteadily to your feet.

“Hold steady, kid!” you roar over the noise of the engine, line up Ludwig in your sight, and bowl the shell right at him. It’s a perfect strike and you fist-bump in the air, being slammed back down into your seat as Junior steers to avoid his spinning kart.

You’re in the lead - for a moment. Because then you hear the sound of a motor catching up, close. You look to your side and see Bowser closing the distance, inches from overtaking. His face is set with a determined grimace. He’s putting everything he has into the race and for a moment, just for a moment, you think you see the Bowser his enemies see: terrifying and single-minded. And just for that moment? It scares you.

You’re so preoccupied with staring that you don’t notice hitting another crate, and find a banana peel in your hands. Bowser has one too, and then he looks over to you, ferocious in his desire to win.

He takes in the way you’re looking at him, and his face contorts for a second in an emotion you can’t quite read. 

And then he gives you the softest smile you’ve ever seen. Kind, gentle. And you realise that no, this is the real Bowser. The dad that races with his kids. The boss that checks his employees look after themselves. 

The good man despite the image he projects.

With a little sigh of resignation, you see him toss the banana forward, and make a show of ‘accidentally’ driving right into it. He spins out, blocking his other kids from going past… and you and Junior cross the finish line first.

Confetti goes off and Junior whoops, jumping up onto his bonnet to celebrate his victory. You quickly come back to the moment. And find yourself grinning, hi-fiving the little dude in victory.

“We did it!” he cheers.

“We sure did! Good driving, kid.”

“Did you see that green shell! I thought you were gonna break Ludwig’s kart in half, it was amazing!”

The others have driven up by now and Wendy throws her remaining mushroom down in frustration.

“No fair! There were two of you against us on our own! We’re going again, no help this time!”

“But Wendy, I thought we were going to team up –” you begin, but hold back a laugh when she replies:

“I’m sorry, maybe next time, but this is a matter of pride. Let’s go!”

The Koopalings all seem to agree and begin to head back to the start line. You watch them with a smile and become aware of a presence behind you.

“Not going again?”

Bowser is watching the kids too, a look of pride in his eyes. 

“No, one race is quite enough for me. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but your children drive like maniacs.”

He laughs at that, his maw opening wide so you can see all his many, many teeth. You’re not afraid. In fact you’re feeling something else entirely, something you’re not sure that you want to address right now. You try to hide the warmth in your cheeks and hope the king doesn’t notice. 

Oh no. You aren’t just in trouble, you realise.

You really have a crush on the king.

You’re fucked.

taglist: @a-literal-no-name @hatkidwantsyoursoul @candlewitch-cryptic @lurkingsnails @therealnekomari @simp-for-sesshomaru @backyard-bear @tmntenjoyer @decaffeinatedprince @cole-kenxbi @mayapapaya18 @psikidwonder @hurricanepursonafied @panwithnoplan42 @martinys-world @agreatcheesecakestudentstuff @my-name-is-milk @travelingtmblelyw33d

[the-fo0l]

Heya! How's your day going? Good I hope! ^^

Anygay (🏳️‍🌈), I was wondering if I could request a kidnapped reader. Like somehow someone was stupid yet also smart enough to break in and just yoinked reader up? How long would it take 47 to know and how long until he retrieves reader? Would he be merciless or would he spare a few people? Like there are bound to be a few people who don't know what's going on. Would he spare them or are they...expendable?

(Also sorry for the reader being able to turn into a cat request idk wtf I was thinking. Seriously I can't apologize enough. Dude my 11-year-old self fucking possessed me and forced me to write that one I sweeeeaaarrr- 😭😭😭😭 [again really sorry it won't happen again unless this request is also too out of the box then pls feel free to ignore it. 🫠] anygay Imma go die in a hole sorry for bothering you again-)

47 rescuing his darling hcs

Notes: whaatt nooo please don't apologize, i just had absolutely no inspiration/motivation/life, I feel so bad😭 hope you like these headcanons, had a lot of fun writing them

Warnings: violence, 47 goes crazy, also he's really emotional which may feel out of character but it's how I see him being

47s heart began to pound frantically when he received news of your abduction. The thought of one of his old enemies daring to use you against him sent waves of unbridled fury through his veins.

He goes about retrieving you with a steely resolve, his mind already calculating every move necessary to bring you back to safety.

He allows the heat of his anger to fuel him, driving him forward with a single-minded purpose- saving you.

He digs into every availableresource, gathering information on your whereabouts and meticulously scrutinizing every detail of your kidnappers operation.

They will pay for what they had done, every last one of them.

His normally calm demeanor begins to crack. Anxiety gnawing at his heart, the mere thought of you being hurt tearing him up inside.

Yet, with a calm determination, he quickly packs his gear and leaves; he will get you back, that is now priority number one, above all else.

Everyone he perceives to get in his way is considered expandable

And whoever is responsible for taking you better hope that every single hair on your head is unharmed, cause that's the only chance they have of a somewhat quick death

47s instincts run wild as he fights his way to you. His entire life has been about killing, it's what he was made for after all. But for the first time, it's not just about finishing a job, it's personal.

Honestly, they never stood a chance, and were quickly overwhelmed by the sheer ferocity of 47s onslaught.

47 moved with deadly precision, his eyes fixated on his goal. You had been taken from him, and he would stop at nothing to get you back.

One by one, he'll take out those who stood in his way. His movements fluid and efficient, without any hesitation.

He moved quickly down a dimly lit corridor, his senses on high alert. He could feel your captors presence, the subtle rustling of fabric, and the faint sound of faint breathing.

As he approached the door, he paused for a moment, steeling himself for the fight ahead. This was where you were being held.

Your kidnappers were fools to think they were ready for him, for 47 has never been more ruthless or determined.

After the last one of them dropped, a shaky breath caught 47s attention. He looked back and found you huddled into the corner of the room, your eyes wide as you gazed at the corpses around you, and 47, standing there with obsession in his eyes.

47 felt a pang of regret and sadness seeing you so shaken. He rushed over to you, pulling you into his arms, softly whispering reassurances to you until you calmed down.

You were safe in his arms once again, only now could he himself begin to relax. You were safe, that was all that mattered.

Looking down at you, he knew that he would do anything to keep you safe, to protect you from all harm. Nothing would ever take you away from him ever again, nothing.

Btw, you're not gonna be left alone for a while, and Diana isn't getting him to go to work either, 47's taking his first vacation.

[nerdieforpedro]

Day Eleven - Four Leaf Clover

Word Count: 604

Warnings: mention of gas station sushi, the therapist is STRESSED, Marcus Pike being a sweetheart

Notes: Marcus Pike and our female reader are back! They're joined by her therapist, not in a sandwich. 👀 These are not those prompts. Just some humor and looking at things from a different perspective.

Main Masterlist / March Spring Prompts 2024 / Writing Challenge

Your therapist is pinching the bridge of their nose. Trying to find a constructive way to tell you you’re wrong. Well, not wrong, just…no they take that back you’re wrong. But professional. They have to be professional and therapeutic. They take a deep breath before speaking because the look on your face tells them you’re completely confused as to why they’re trying to reason with you. 

“Let’s look at this a different way. You’re wary of accepting a date from the gentleman you told me you bonded with over your butterfly painting,” The therapist’s hands are waving above their notepad, “even though, you’ve been to lunch with him twice, spent last session speaking about it in a positive light and have coffee with him as well. And…” Glasses slid toward the bottom of their nose as a finger pointed in the air, “not once according to you has he been rude, unkind or creepy. Just…”

“But I should be careful right? My last boyfriend or date or whatever ate gas station sushi and was pretty pushy with…”

“As your therapist, I would strongly encourage you to compare the two and see who one you should give a shot to. Clearly anyone who eats gas station sushi has not made good choices in life. It sounded like the man you described to me knew about different restaurants, some of which I can't pronounce.” You nod, taking in what your therapist is saying.

“I think you’re right. I should just give it a shot. I gave the gas station sushi guy a chance just because of how lonely I was. Marcus is very sweet and I have thought about him quite a bit these last few weeks.”

Internally, your therapist is thankful. Whoever this man is, doesn’t deserve to be compared to the prick that was the gas station sushi man. “How did your painting go this week?” Your face lights up at the question and you reveal a smaller painting, maybe 4 inches by 6 inches? It’s various greens. Darker around the edges with the lighter greens making what look to be a clover shape in the middle with dashes of yellow on the leaves. It should be noted that there’s four of them. Aware that you’ve painted it for a reason, your therapist asks and you explain it’s how you feel right now. Your outlook has improved significantly over the last few months with renewed hope that taking it one step at a time is good and believing that what you’re doing in taking care of yourself matters. Also through sheer luck you might have found some love. Maybe. 

After your session, Marcus picks you up and you go to lunch, it’s become an occurrence a few times a week now. It doesn’t take long for Marcus to inquire about your painting and you show him, giving him the same explanation as you did your therapist. You changed the love part to ‘someone to care for’ pretty much the same thing but not as strong you hoped. You don’t want to scare the man. Marcus Pike is not a man that’s easily intimidated and gives your forehead a small kiss asking if he can keep your painting like he did with your butterfly one. You agree and snap a picture with your phone before handing it over and continuing lunch. Might not be love, yet, but you do kiss his cheek when he drops you at home and you ask him about dinner later this week or the next. The bright smile he gives you makes you feel like the luckiest woman on earth. 

[sai-lec]

it’s almost the 8th so happy international women’s day to the major resurgence of absolute sexism and misogyny that the recent situation with christian horner has brought to the female fans and employees of f1 .

regardless of where you stand on the sketchy af handlings of the horner issues the potential of a false claim from a female employee has provided an excuse for male fans to harass and degrade female fans expressing their discomfort with the situation and the treatment of the women involved- particularly in the doxxing and bullying of the woman who initially submitted the claim before the investigation had even ended. Women across tumblr, twitter, tiktok and all have been pushed into retracting their feelings, deleting their posts and videos on the situation from the sheer scale of hate and harassment at the hands of misogynistic fans because ‘allegations ruins men’s lives’. Completely ignorant are they to the fact that they are active participants in the ruining of a potential victims life by exposing and sharing her personal details, and continuing create environments where women are unable to speak about their experiences with sexual harassment and assault .

Ignorant are they to the fact that they are maintaining patriarchal standards that they claim are non existent to ensure that women understand their issues are not important . the 2% chance that an allegation is false is by far the greater are more believable problem than a woman experiencing sexual misconduct at the hands of her employer . not to mention that the majority of sexual assault and rape cases do not revive a sentencing . that doesn’t mean they didn’t happen or that the victim lied. just that the board saw the evidence as inconclusive or not enough to support prosecution . sa and rape have the lowest prosecution rates of violent crimes . also quickly a reminder he was never cleared. huge complaint was dismissed. the word innocent was never used and the lack of transparency on the investigation doesn’t tell us anything of his innocence .

the responses from drivers again go on to validate misogynistic men’s feelings by labelling the potential sexual misconduct of a team principle as ‘noise and distractions’ or that it doesn’t matter to them . it’s irrelevant. and yes i understand that they mean they don’t want to comment on the situation because of its personal nature but that’s not what they’re saying . by trivialising matters of sexual misconduct as mere chatter and sympathising with a potential abuser it’s speaking to your female fans that you are not an advocate for their safety . it says they don’t take sexual harassment seriously .

what they could have said was ‘the matter is not something i’m personally involved in so i can’t provide insight or comment other than my hopes for it to be resolved quickly and fairly with full transparency’ . instead their responses directly downplayed the situation at hand, ignorantly dismissing the weight of the situation its its affect on women across formula 1 by essentially saying ‘who cares’ and provide pathway for misogynistic fans to follow suit .

formula 1 is a sport which in recent years has leaned into welcoming women into the sport, and this is seen by the rotated dynamic of women in f1 from ‘something good to look at before the race’ as comments regarding the grid girls would have it to a grid of 16 cars fully backed by all f1 teams for women to compete in their own formula racing series . this has welcomed a lot more women into the space. however, it cannot force attitudes to change . the only way we will see real change in f1 is to encourage personal growth for both fans and employees wether they be drivers, mechanics whoever . the work needs to be done to truly welcome women into the space that is currently occupied by them in motorsport . and they can start by taking us seriously .

[pb-dot]

hey!! this is chance and here’s week 5’s prompt. your oc suddenly gets transported to a mall. what store(s) would they go in? would they buy anything? what would they think? tell me about the experience.

Thanks for the ask Chance, as always it is a delight :)

Now, to make this a bit of a group activity, I'm going to say Jake, 13, and One all get isekaied to a mall. I'm also going to assume they have some local currency for spending money. They're all native to a crowded hellscape of capitalism, so the transition will, I suspect, go relatively smoothly.

13 will be confused and overwhelmed at first since he's not as used to the hustle and bustle of the city as Jake is. Jake will do his best to guide 13 through the din but realizes there is no need to worry when they come across a bookstore, and 13 straight up loses himself in the stacks. Bookstores aren't really a thing in The City, as reading fiction and literature is considered a frivolous activity. There does exist a thriving cottage industry of dime novels and serials in printed magazines, but the lack of centralized distribution leaves these struggling for relevance. After briefly being paralyzed by the sheer scale of fiction available to him and the plethora of authors he hasn't even heard of, 13 will no doubt be beset by what I can only describe as a ruthlessly efficient book-shopping mood. At the end of the trip, 13 will carry about 30% more books than a human his size should conceivably be able to carry owing to his superior strength and dexterity.

After leaving 13 to his books, Jake will probably amble around without any clear plans. The mall's hardware store keeps him busy for a while, but he ultimately finds the tools to be of decent quality but ill-fitting for the kind of work he'd need them for. After spending some time being disappointed at how there seems to be no clockwork technology around, Jake buys a pair of decent boots and spends the rest of the time people-watching.

While Jake's unflinchingly practical approach makes him a bit of a boring shopper, it's nothing on One. It hasn't come up much so far, but One does not like crowds at all. Whoever she was before being converted to a Clockman, years of skulking around in the shadows and continously plotting for this or that end has left her badly agora- and enochlophobic. To make matters worse, her first instinct in coming face to face with large crowds is hiding, and the omnipresent lights makes that difficult. To add to it, the presence of muzak and other artificial sources of sound messes with the anti-sound field that One relies on to move silently.

After having a moderate to severe panic attack in the food court, One will likely decide to make the best out of a, to her, objectively terrible situation. One makes an exercise out of it, taking the option to train on her crowd stealth. After getting some more inconspicious clothes than the "nude androgyneous clockwork robot"-look she usually rocks, One gets to work. Knowing One she probably chose to steal the clothes to avoid the social interaction required for the purchase. One then spends the rest of the day getting better at staying outside of notice in the crowd, moving in such a way to throw off potential tails without attracting attention, perhaps lifting a few wallets and dumping them on unsuspecting people for a laugh, that sort of thing.

Tag List:

@ettawritesnstudies @mrbexwrites @teacupsandstarlight @anonymousfoz @wrenofthewords @sm-writes-chaos @dyrewrites @owlsandwich @olive-riggzey

If you want to be put on the Tag List for this project, please interact with my Tag List Post.

[hq-analysis]

Haikyuu!! Chapter 247: Day 02

I really like the cover for this chapter. It’s a good choice by putting both Kenma and Hinata together. The rivalry between Karasuno and Nekoma are truly important for all of them. Ukai pretty much gets it. (While I cannot help laughing at the snickering Kuroo and stink-eyed Daichi, these two captains probably takes the whole rivalry more seriously than the rest)

It is what motivate them to keep going and aiming for the previously impossible dream. I believe that’s not going to change anytime soon with Karasuno facing their greatest hurdle yet.

Inarizaki High School. Previous runner up of the Inter High and Miya Atsumu’s school. Honestly, the way Ukai describes the team really gives us the sense of how formidable this team is. I wonder what kind of strategy Ukai comes up with. But I cannot help be amused by certain people’s reactions.

Kageyama and his matter of fact explanations and obliviousness to the reaction to his words.

The Idiot Duo™ simplistic and optimistic approach (feat. unimpressed Tsukki, that’s one hell of side-eye).

And surprise, surprise, there are two Miyas!

Are that different hair color and parting line intentional I wonder? What’s up with the twins in sports? Daiya has twins as a battery pair too.

While all of those are interesting, the highlight of this chapter for me is the Ukais. I’ve been wanting to see more of these two. I wonder what the old, experienced coach of a grandfather thinks of his unexpected coach of a grandson, who manages to get to the Nationals in his first year as a coach. Now that put it down in words, Ukai is as surprising as his players. The old Ukai even points out how bad he is as a player, but at the same time he notes how good he is as a coach.

While he’s still rough at the edges, Ukai’s really getting the handle of this coaching thing. He can stand his ground as seen from the above panel. He quickly picks up that Takeda is gonna get steamrolled and immediately intervenes. He is likely the youngest and the least experienced coach around, but here he’s asking an experienced coach to help with their warm-up instead. He’s as gutsy as his players, honestly.

What also catches my attention is the championship bracket.

There should be 6 rounds in total CMIIW, and Karasuno will meet Nekoma in third round and Itachiyama in sixth round or in the finals.

Somehow… I doubt Karasuno will get that far. I’m not being pessimistic, I’m just being realistic. The first round against Tsubakihara has pretty much established how high the level of skill of the high school teams in the nationals. While Karasuno managed to win straight two sets, it doesn’t change the fact that they’re still scraping by (I’d say the same for Nekoma, too). They have the potential of growth, and they have grown through the matches against strong opponents, but there’s so much growing you can do during matches or even a championship. Then there’s that edge gained from sheer stubbornness and persistence usually in form of momentum or luck.

The third round match against Nekoma will be the most difficult match for Karasuno because of what it means for both Karasuno and Nekoma. The fulfillment of a promise, the long-awaited match, the settlement of the score, and the appeasing of the old coaches. There’s so much riding on a single match that I don’t doubt that both teams will give their all, throw their heart and soul into that game. They are not likely to think to play it safe, and to think of long term. They will push themselves to the limit. Whoever ends up winning the battle of trash heap, they will be completely drained. They will struggle to pick themselves up, not only mentally but physically. If they manage to do so in the fourth round, there’s a chance they can forge ahead, but winning the championship? Well….

That’s just a thought really. I trust Furudate-sensei to have everything planned, and so far Sensei hasn’t led us (or probably just me) astray. So I’ll just enjoy the ride. I wonder how good the second strongest team in Japan is.

[xx-justsomeguy-xx]

some kinda brainrot ig of some other version of genshin!dola bc i can’t stop thinking abt what is essentially a single dad wrio au for her

honestly i think if i started playing genshin *now* after fontaine came out i think i would’ve made dola a pure fontainian and had her mostly grow up under wrio’s care from the start. The way her lore goes, she goes to look for wrio after she starts suspecting that he’s a long lost half-uncle after going through her late maternal grandparents’ old journals, so it wouldn’t be hard to find some reason for wrio to be her guardian?

like. just have it so that one of the grandparents (like whoever one of them is wrio’s biological parent) legally entrusts her care to him if for whatever reason there’s just no one left who can. then boom! wrio’s got a kid to look after.

then i feel like her life would just get so much… nicer? if she gets to grow up without her bullshit immediate family + gets to experience wrio and his emotional maturity and compassion instead. and also everything else that comes with living in fontaine with him in the fortress lmao like—

- some of the permanent residents of the fortress would end up kinda adopting her too? ofc some are just being nice to her to earn brownie points with wrio but for sure some just like doting on a kid. those guys get a little extra coupon credits then anyone caught taking advantage of dola get to meet wrio’s gauntlets personally shdjs

- sigewinne as a big sister that also kinda observes dola under a magnifying glass so to speak (like has sigewinne ever had the chance to mingle with human children). absolutely has dola join her in making bets with the melusines on who can get stickers on wrio + doesnt take long for dola to also just join in with the mischief (he peels off her stickers the most carefully and saves them somewhere)

- mandatory sunlight time. i know wrio doesnt actually head to the surface that often even though he loves the sun but he’s not gonna let the kid wilt in the shadows (thinking abt his line abt pets lmao) so everyday or every few days he goes up to the overworld for a walk with her. ends up making him overall happier too bc he also desperately needs the sun but probably couldnt justify taking what seems to be a fairly long trip there on a frequent basis

- neuvilette and furina meeting her while she’s still a lil nugget bc she refuses to let wrio leave her behind no matter how much he tells her that he has to go alone to an important meeting… so he’s sitting in palais mermonia having tea with neuvi and furina while dola’s sat next to him quietly munching on some cookies. neuvilette isn’t sure what to make of the situation while furina tries to win dola over by bribing her with sweets (it works) and wrio has to carry sleeping dola back to the fortress after she passed out from the sugar crash + the sheer boredom of whatever those guys had a meeting about

- lil dola being awestruck when she sees clorinde duel and wrio ends up having to pay clorinde to give her some sword-fighting lessons bc he feels bad that there isn’t really anyone dola can play swords with in the fortress that isn’t double her size. so he just… has her actually learn how to use a sword since that’s even better + doubles as her learning to protect herself. wrio then has to deal with dola accidentally breaking things while practicing and eventually lets her train in the pankration ring when nothing’s going on (there are always guards assigned to watch her in case she hurts herself)

- navia probably knew dola even before she ended up in wrio’s care bc she probably gets clothes from her family and so when she finds out that she’s with wrio and wrio’s kinda stuck on what to do, she tells her dad and then callas helps wrio out a little with figuring out how to take care of a little girl who will inevitably have to go through puberty ahsjsa

- full belief that navia spoils her when she catches her and clorinde training, she just seems like the type. like drops by during training with food and baked goods and maybe clothes sometimes and wrio has to kindly ask her to take it easy lmao

- wrio gets the weirdest mix of emotions when dola gets a vision at a really young age? like 10? and after seeing its a dendro vision + dola’s inclination towards academics and research he cant help but have a mini crisis about her possibly wanting to go to the akademiya for a formal education

- (maybe she actually does go to the akademiya and meets the sumeru squad?)

- wrio having to deal with suddenly (kinda) have an answer to who his biological parents are (or at least one of them) and now he can’t help but think back on every interaction he’s ever had with dola’s family, who are a family of artists and clothing designers (that i hc as having gifted him his coat when he became duke). leaves a weird feeling in his gut but he manages to take it in stride the way he somehow has with the rest of the shit in his life

then i’m thinking abt how she ends up meeting diluc and kaeya and tbh i feel like its possible for crepus to take then with him during a business trip to fontaine so that his boys can get a chance to sightsee?

ofc with this setup i dont think dola has much reason to work as a mercenary like she does in her regular genshin canon >.> but i do think she’d have reason to travel a lot bc she isnt the type to be content with staying in one place + i do think with a more stable life she’d eventually want to go to sumeru to study, and that would be how she ends up travelling a lot. double darshan with spantamad and amurta perhaps?

[sansxfuckyou]

Like your jacket

Summary: During the first chance to die in this twisted killing game, Detahs foot gets caught in a pothole.

Warnings: Broken bones (?), minor blood, panic, near death experiences, check tags for further warnings.

Authors Note: *busts down door* this is the first Kenikari fic right? I think I got to it before anyone else did, anyways, @sobredunia, @thekenikaridevblog, @h3xt0r and @beetroot-merchant please look at this, I put him through it, and this is merely, chapter one, anyways, Ao3 link:

Right foot in front of left.

Left foot in front of right.

Repeat.

His heart clambered in his chest, his breathing was short, he could barely take in enough oxygen to stay focused. All he knew was the grinding sound of the giant rock rolling towards him, and the potholes he had to avoid. He should've grabbed a bike, he should've known better, but he didn't, and now run for your life has never been more real.

Somehow he's ahead of Lare, Bee, and Mako, but not by a very large margin. Not by a comfortable amount in the slightest, he's never ran this fast in his life. Actually, that might be a lie, he went to school, there might've been a track and field day. He probably ran really fast for that and-

Everything comes to a screeching halt all at once.

The breath in his lungs drains entirely, he swears he can feel his pupils blow open. His ankle strains on the pothole it caught in, his arms spread out before he can stop them. Something cracks a little bit and the pain shooting through him is beyond believable. He would scream but he's still out of breath and the sudden impact on the ground only pushes more out of him.

Disorientation hits him full force, the world goes blurry for only a second as he grasps mindlessly at the ground. He can barely force himself back up onto his feet and when he does he bites his tongue so hard it nearly draws blood in an attempt to stay quiet. All of his weight drops onto his crooked ankle like an anvil and his pace is gone in mere milliseconds.

So much agony is shooting through him, but he stumbles onward despite that. Each step he's sure he's making it worse, but what does that matter anyways, he'd rather end up broken then dead. Adrenaline barely outdoes the pain, he almost feels delirious, blood trails behind his steps. And then he falls again, he isn't sure if he's in or out of the death chamber, but he's on the ground.

He can't stop the pain, he can barely register the footsteps around him, and then someone is crouching down beside him. The second whoever it is touches the wound, the crack, whatever happened to him, he yowls in pain. He's on his back again, kicking at whoever touched him in less than seconds. He glares up at Murasaki, shock plays out on the tallers face as he steps back.

"I was trying to help," Murasaki spoke quietly.

"Help? Being helpful would be the opposite of trying to strand Bee, Chuyo and Mako to their death in the first game! Being helpful would be being a team player! You're zero help at all!" Detah snapped, words falling out of him alongside hisses of pain, the sheer agony in his ankle (it was crawling up his calf) tossed his mental filter to the side.

Murasaki stayed silent for a moment, Detah doesn't apologize.

"Go find some gauze if you wanna be helpful," Detahs practically snarling at Mursaki who simply turns to leave.

Detah gives a groan of annoyance as he leans back, he props his wounded leg over the other. What a day, what a day, wake up in a heap of trash, get locked in a freezer, and now this. A broken ankle to top it all off, he wouldn't be shocked if today was a Monday given how bad things are going.

[queenpiranhadon]

😭

Grief is when your Alexa plays Change from Steven Universe and then immediately played the full We Are the Crystal Gems intro that Steven writes when he's 14.

spoilers below the cut!

Just think about it. Please.

Now, I know this conversation has been brought up amongst many different fandoms when it comes to leaving it to freaking CHILDREN to save the world, but just think about it from Steven's perspective.

The kid's 13 when the series starts, THIRTEEN. And to so many people including myself that's normal.

But Steven is far from normal, even more than typical coming of age/fantasy protagonists. Most of these characters, whether it be Percy Jackson, or Harry Potter, or even Sophie Foster, have had some mentor and a large group of friends to support them every step of the way.

Now obviously, no one is exactly like these people, at the time, Percy and everyone around him figured him to be the child of the Great Prophecy, and had to come to terms with dying at the tender age of 15. But Percy had the entirety of Camp Halfblood with him.

Harry was the literal Chosen One, having to fight against Voldemort, ACTUALLY DIE, and make decisions that even his predecessors couldn't do. But Harry had all of Hogwarts to back him up.

Sophie's the freaking moonlark, she's got to save the world with her funky genetics and highly powerful abilities even though she's still figuring everything out. But Sophie had all her friends, their families (sans Keefe), the Council on occasion and the entire Black Swan to aid her when she needed it.

But in Steven's universe (haha get it?) he's the only one just like him. Sure Sophie's ultra powerful, but she's not the only elf. Sure Harry's the chosen one, but he's not the only wizard. Percy's not the only demigod either.

But Steven?

He's so uniquely different, so enigmatic that absolutely no one could possibly relate to him whatsoever because his situation is so tragic and yet so intricate that he's really all alone. Sure, he has the Crystal gems, his dad, Connie, Onion, and whoever else you want to say.

But are any of them anything like him?

The gems lack human genetics, therefore he feels more vulnerable around them, not quite these celestial all mighty beings that was really never die if their gem is never shattered.

Greg, Connie, Onion, all his human friends, they experience humanity to the fullest, being able to experience aging, change, just the sheer ability to live, something Steven can do, but yet, it's still different, he's still left out, because of his gem DNA.

The diamonds? All they see is Pink Diamond, and all Steven is, is a little boy who's sick and tired of playing janitor for matters way above his own.

A fourteen year old, playing diplomat for three ultra powerful beings with attachment issues and the ability to warp their own kind??

These days, all fourteen year olds worry about are their finals, and whether or not their crush likes them (though to be fair, Steven has his own fair share of that).

But the real kicker is that everyone else had a chance at a normal life.

Harry lived without the knowledge of magic for eleven years, Percy and Sophie around the same age.

Steven was introduced to this crazy world of gems since he was born, and he loved it.

He didn't feel the stress or the burden of being who he was, he just was happy being who we was.

He never faced the struggle of just fitting in and finding out who he was in a world of chaos, he was really just…Steven

So you can imagine the horror he must’ve went through went his whole world, his space, his bubble, turns into knives the moment the lies start unraveling into one giant conspiracy.

Any other protagonist knew the dangers of their world and knew the risks they would have to face. A world of loneliness turned into one of belonging

Steven?

He had to face a world of belonging finally turning into one of loneliness.

To me, the world form of torture is to give someone happiness and then take it away.

[slimeywooper]

Labmas AU

Chapter 4 Part 2 - An Introduction CW: cruelty

Once the elevator doors closed behind (Y/N), Colress turned around and headed back in the room. He walked right up to the glass and stared through it, searching. "I know you're in there Kudari. It's not funny. Come out. I'm taking you back to your room." He commanded. No reply was heard. "I always keep it on me Kudari, don't make me use it. I don't enjoy being the bad guy."

When there was still no response, he sighed, reaching into his top and grabbing something that hung from his neck underneath his suit. The little device had three buttons on it. Pressing the bottom one, he heard a shriek, followed by a loud thud.

The person Colress was looking for had just appeared, having fallen from one of the trees. He twitched momentarily on the ground, before slowly rising. His top half being that of a man with a sculpted figure, while the lower half was of a Galvantula. Fuzzy yellow fur lined his abdomen, with four legs holding him up.

"You didn't give me a chance to come out!" Kudari yelled, infuriated. Purple spit spraying onto the glass separating the rooms. Six eyes littered his face, a strange smile forming, showing off sharp teeth. He darted up to the glass, pressing his clawed hands on it, glaring at Colress. "New assistant? Are they as squishy as the last? Hee hee!" Ignoring any answer that may have been given, he gracefully climbs across the glass and up towards the hatch at the cusp of the ceiling, connecting the habitat area with the observation room.

Not bothering to descend via the walls, Kudari jumps down, landing perfectly on the observation room floor. "You should introduce me to them. We'll be working together after all." He states matter-of-factly, the four legs of his Galvantula half slightly extended, making him tower over Colress.

Looking at the hybrid, Colress doesn't show any trepidation. He says plainly "You know that won't happen, Kudari. Now, why and how are you out of your room?"

"I can't say for certain. Mayyybeee Nobori let me out? But, maybe not." He was smiling widely, enjoying his attempt at upsetting Colress.

"Of course. Come along. I'm not in the mood for your infantile games. I'm taking you to your room. Don't try to fight me on this. Let's go." Turning his back to the Galvantula hybrid, he takes out his tablet and begins to play with it. "According to the security system, your room is unlocked. So, whoever it was that let you out, wasn't smart enough to cover their tracks." Colress starts his usual typing.

Kudari shrunk down to his normal height. "Welllll, it's possible, at least hypothetically, that I told this person I just wanted to stretch my legs, and that I would return to my room in the morning, allowing them to lock me in at that time. Before anyone could notice I was gone." He seemed proud of his plan. "Obviously that's not what happened. None of the researchers are currently using this environmental enclosure, so I figured 'why not?' It's very boring being locked in my room. But, who would've thought you would have a new assistant this soon after losing the old one just a few days ago?" He smiled gleefully, stepping back and forth from his right legs to his left legs.

"Stop moving! You're too old to be this much of a spaz." Colress turned back around, facing Kudari, slight upset on his face. "Honestly I don't care why you wanted out. You don't deserve to 'stretch your legs.' It's only through sheer good fortune that someone was there to step up to the plate. Unfortunately for Team Plasma, this person has no scientific background. They can't help us with the most important parts of our research!" His voice had been steadily rising during his rant.

"Team Plasma! Plasma! Plasma! Plasma! A stupid team, comprised of stupid people!" Kudari was shrieking now. "What's the point? Why are you still here? Did you not already achieve your dream? Am I not the perfect Pokemon you wanted?" There were tears forming in his eyes now, in stark contrast to the rage.

Colress dropped the hand that was holding the tablet to his side and raised his other hand to his head in annoyance. "Kudari, we've gone over this. Again, and again, and again. No, you are not my perfect Pokemon. You're not even fourth best. I can't stand even looking at you. A Pokemon that can't be taught to listen, isn't a Pokemon worth having." At those words, Kudari began weeping in earnest, gripping himself with his own arms. "Come on, just be good. Follow me to your room without any complaints, and I will see about getting you something new to do. Don't you still play video games? I'll buy you a new game. Just keep a ways back, I don't want you getting tears on my coat." Nodding slightly, choking back sobs, Kudari began to follow Colress out of the observation area. Heading for the elevator, to the lowest floor, where his room awaited.

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

Leonardo: You worry too much, Comte!

Le Comte: *Thinking about all those times stuff has gone incredibly wrong*

Le Comte: No I worry exactly the right amount--

[hyeque]

valentines makeup [nsfw]

synopsis: your fave arrives home late for valentine's day. he decides to make it up to you.

featuring: f!reader x haikyuu boys

notes: this can be whoever you imagine it is to be. happy belated valentine's day! (pls pretend i didn’t repost this like a week later ahaha)

warnings: female body parts, manhandling, pussy eating, fingering, unprotected sex, bad title names

shutting the front door as quietly as he can, he kicks off his shoes. with the roll of his shoulders he can feel the stress of work and other things fading. whenever he can come home to your shared living space he can forget about everything involving any and all sort of problems-

"you're late."

except for your wrath.

he hasn't even gotten a chance to turn around fully, but when he does, you're a sight for sore eyes. you're all dolled up in lingerie, make-up done and hair perfectly set. the sheer lacy robe drapes over your body, barely concealing the snug fit of the bodysuit you have on.

you’re going to be the death of him.

"baby..." he breathes, stepping towards you, still drinking in your figure. "i'm sorry i'm late, you know how things get at work. i sent you a text to let you know i'd be back late." he explains, trying not to anger you any further. It doesn’t work.

"i don't care." you huff, arms crossed. he can't help but trail his eyes to your cleavage and how it sits pushed up. "we made plans and you ruined them."

your boyfriend's eyes scan the dining room table where you had set a candle-lit dinner. his and your favorite foods were set up and he can't help but feel shame. he hadn't meant to leave you alone for so long. and he knew that you were looking forward to spending this time with him. it had been so long that it was just the two of you.

he places the giant, beautiful bouquet of flowers on the table along with the extensive tiffany bags on the floor before turning to take you in his arms. you're visibly shaking and he holds you tighter, trying to get you to calm down.

"you left me here by myself..." you mumble into the crook of his neck. tears sting your eyes but you manage to blink them back.

"i know. i'm so sorry sweetheart. you worked so hard to make all of this. you must be tired." he kisses your forehead, cheeks, neck...his kisses growing sloppier and wetter as he moves down your body. he's kneeling in front of you now, kissing down your stomach. his hands never leave your body as he explores you like a newfound gem.

your breathing hitches, body twitching in reaction to his touch. "i'm...i'm mad at you, yanno."

a smirk is plastered on his face. no matter how mad you were, your body would always respond to his touch. he can feel how needy you are just under his fingertips.

"let me make it up to you then," he says before he's kissing your clothed nether lips. his tongue swipes out to collect the dampness that's leaked through the lace underwear and he groans slightly, “look so good and taste just like it to. i think i need more.”

he knows flowers and jewelry won’t cut it for now. he has to spoil you in a different way.

your boyfriend sweeps you up in his arms with no warning, causing you to squeal, clinging onto his broad shoulders and beefy arms.

"i'm not going to drop you, i promise," he assures, opening the door to your shared bedroom. he places you gently on the bed before he's kneeling in between your legs again. wasting no time, he rips the part covering your cunt.

you gasp. "i just bought this you asshole!"

"don't worry, i'll buy you another one. i'll buy you all the clothes you want me to fuck you in." he replies before attaching his lips to your pussy.

he licks a wet stripe and moans, "best pussy on earth," his large hands grab your thighs and throws them over his shoulders. he's burying his face impossibly closer to you and sucking the bud, making sure not one drop of your juices is wasted.

"ha, mmm! feels good!" any thoughts of arguing with him are gone as he eats you out like a starved man. this is the best way he knows how to apologize and you can't complain. not when he always does such a great job.

"yeah? you look so pretty right now. need you to come all over my face. think you can do that for me?" he asks, looking up at you through his lashes. it almost makes you mad how pretty he looks eating you out.

you nod furiously and your hips move to grind up into his face. his grip on your thighs is deadly, bruising probably as he damn near batters your clit with his tongue and now fingers. you're rapidly approaching your high and you whine, letting him know that.

"come on, pretty girl. need you to squirt all over my face. need you to make a mess of yourself." he slaps your ass and that's what sets you off, body seizing as your orgasm consumes your body. your legs tremble around his head and involuntary squeeze him. he feels like he's in heaven when your juices spray him, allowing him to lick and slurp you up.

his thumb rubs circles into your skin and he waits for you to calm down. when he finally pulls away his chin is dripping with your essence and he grins. he sits up before wiping his face taking time to admire your trembling form.

your eyes can't help but slide down to the front of his pants. the sight of his painfully hard cock straining against the material has you squeezing your legs together and you let a soft whine escape your throat.

if he noticed your reaction, he says nothing as he leans down to capture your lips into a kiss again. you grip tightly onto his shirt, eagerly kissing him back. his large hand holds your face and you feel him nip at your bottom lip before you open it, letting his tongue slip inside. a warm feeling engulfs you as you taste yourself on his tongue.

he pulls you onto his lap, the bulge from his pants grazing against you. you mewl, pleasure igniting through you as you rut harder against him.

“shit baby, just like that…” he grabs your hips and drags you across, your clit catching onto the material in the best way possible. you shamelessly leave behind a wet patch on his pants and decide to lean into his neck. you leave bite marks along the column of his neck, making him groan your name out loud.

your hand palms him, feeling the twitch of his cock beneath his clothes. your palm meets his crotch in a way that nearly has him jerking himself in your hand.

“sweetheart if you keep doing that i’m going to cum.” he hisses, tugging your hand away. he flips you over so that you’re on your back, legs spread out for him and presenting your cunt like a gift.

"please. want you." you reach for him and claw at his clothes. it isn't fair to you that he's wearing so many.

he tilts his head to the side, feigning confusion. "what do you 'want', baby?" his hand palms himself through his pants shamelessly, looking at you right in the eyes.

"you know i'll give you anything you want if you just ask, right?" he quirks a brow, his amused eyes awaiting your response.

you feel yourself becoming shy but your neediness helps you vocalize your needs. "need your cock. want you to fuck me. want to feel all of you."

"is that right?" he hums, his hands unbuttoning his shirt. his toned chest comes into view, followed by his chiseled abs. the sight has you drooling and you wait for him to take off the rest of his clothes.

you grab a hold of his pants and hastily start to remove them. he clicks his tongue, pulling back your hands. you pout and whine, throwing a small tantrum. crying that you need him right now and for him to hurry up.

he seems displeased with your attitude and leans over you, hand enclosing over your neck. “be a good girl for me and be patient, yeah? you’re doing so well it would be a shame for you to start acting like a brat.” his eyes darken at the word and his hand tightens slightly on your neck, making you quiet down immediately.

he pulls back and stands up. he takes off his pants and briefs, his length slapping loudly against his stomach. he sighs when he finally strokes himself. "don’t worry. this fat cock is all yours baby, so let me take great care of you. just lay there and look pretty for me while i fuck your brains out."

you squirm in your spot on the bed and that makes him laugh. his figure looms over you as he aligns his cock with your entrance. a primal urge from within him stirs when he looks at your tiny pussy next to his fat cock. it never fails to amaze him how you make him fit every time. you really are his perfect little cocksleeve whore.

his tip breeches the tight ring of your hole and his mouth falls open as your warmth encases him with each inch disappearing in you.

“fuck you’re tight. sucking me in and milking me so well at the same time…” he breathes. he finds himself taking his time, wanting to memorize the feel and shape of your creamy cunt. he pushes in further and your hand reaches for his, grasping it tightly.

“it’s okay, i got you. you’re doing so good sweetheart. we’re almost there.” he coaxes, kissing your knuckles. he rocks his hips slightly and before you know it, his balls are pressed against your plush ass.

his eyes flutter close and he looks like he’s achieved pure bliss. “oh fuck. missed this pussy so damn much.” a growl escapes him as he jerks his hips a little.

you cry, and it’s only then do you realize it’s all too much, you missed being filled up like this and you can’t help but convulse around him because of that. he’s caught off guard by this and groans, feeling you become tighter and massaging his cock.

he pants, rubbing circles into your hip before huffing out a laugh. “oh baby, did you just cum? did you cum from just me putting my dick in you?” he coos, caressing your face. there’s an arrogant look on his face and you hide shyly in the crook of his neck.

“don’t be shy, think it’s fucking hot how your pussy can’t get enough of me. must’ve missed me too. that’s why it’s mine, right?” he slips his hand over your clit again. your breath hitches as sensitivity takes over.

“y-yea, all yours…” you mumble, eyes hazy. he can’t get over how pretty you look, he hasn’t even played with you that much but you’re already looking partially fucked out. no wonder he’s obsessed with ruining you.

he finally moves his hips, taking time to adjust you for you to be comfortable.

“please move, need more.” tears brim your eyes and you reach up to look at him. “please fuck me hard.” you beg. “want to forget everything.”

how can he say no to your cute face? the sight of your pretty tears going straight to his cock too. “if my baby wants to be fucked dumb, then i can give that to her.” he says, thumbing the apple of your cheek.

he fucks you through your sensitivity, and the sound of his balls meeting your ass fills the room. your whines get increasingly louder as the brutal force of his thrusts sends you moving back each time. the moment his eyes fall on your figure beneath him, he thinks about how lucky he is to have you. you look so beautiful sprawled out, taking him however he wanted to take you.

“so so pretty. so beautiful like this for me.” he praises, and feels your cunt squeeze around him at hearing that. “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, you know that?” he grabs hold of your hands before lacing your fingers with his.

you babble in response, gushing out more juices around him which creates a loud squelch. it drives him crazy how much of a mess you always make for him.

he kisses your neck and jaw, humming with satisfaction. “you ready for your other valentines gift? yeah? ready for me to fill up this pussy with my cum?”

“please! want it so badly please fill me up!” you lock your legs around his waist. he grunts, becoming impossibly closer to you, and changes his angle, hitting that one spot you love so much.

“ha, fuck,” he groans, “want to see you stuffed full and dripping with my cum.” he pins your hands above your head before he’s near grinding into your core, adding his fingers for good measure.

“f-fuck yes, just like that! feels so g-good!” you squeal, and his cock throbs harder at seeing your eyes roll back.

“good fucking girl, taking me so well.” he rolls his hips and moves them faster. “please cum for me again princess, need to feel you cum on my cock.”

you nod furiously, feeling yourself reach your climax again. you’re chanting his name when your release finally hits and that causes him to come undone as well. his moans are loud as he spills into you, the amount seemingly endless you feel his cock throb from inside of you.

he holds you, planting kisses all over your face which makes you giggle.

“happy valentine’s day, baby. i love you.” he snuggles his face in your neck, smiling.

your words slur in response but he understands well what you want to say.

slowly, he pulls out of you, his eyes going immediately to in between your legs. he swears under his breath as he sees his load spill out of you. he can never get used to the sight. he takes two fingers and shoves the remaining amount back into you. you twitch slightly at his touch when he cleans you up with a wet cloth.

he plants a soft kiss on your forehead and lips. “you did so well. you feeling okay? it wasn’t too much?” he pushes back your hair and his eyes scan you with concern. “tell me if it hurts somewhere.”

“n-no i’m fine…thank you. i love you so much.” you mumble and look at him with wide eyes, love and admiration fill them and he realizes his baby is back. your brain can’t even remember why you were upset in the first place.

mission accomplished. your boyfriend smirks as you lay back on his chest. maybe he would fuck you dumb more often to make you forget.

do not copy and or repost. likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated though! (c) 2022 hyque

[glambots]

sun, moon, Roxy and Freddy ((separate)) when they get into an argument with their s/o?

🎩Glamrock-Freddy + "Arguing With Their S/O:" 🎩

⭐Freddy hardly ever argues with you. He just doesn't really have it in him to bicker, even if something really, really bothers him. There's a chance he'll bring it up, but never in a way that's asking for a fight. He wants you to trust him and for your relationship to be built on a mutual understanding of one another.

⭐You can still tell when he's upset, though. Not mad, because it's nearly impossible to make Freddy genuinely angry, but definitely disappointed. His words are shorter, his tone more clipped, and he makes an obvious effort not to give you the attention you're seeking. ...He might be giving you the cold-shoulder. Just a little bit.

⭐He does eventually apologize. Even if he's upset, taking it out on you in such a childish way isn't fair. If he wants clear communication in a relationship, then he has to put in effort to get there, right? So, he hopes that by taking the first step, you'll follow suit. Out of everyone, his reaction is the healthiest, by far.

☀️Sunnydrop + "Arguing With Their S/O:"☀️

⭐There are a few things that Sun will argue with you about, but they're mostly related to his need to follow the rules and various other anxieties he deals with (the cleaning, the lights issue, etc etc). He can usually be talked down from his spirals if you handle things gently enough. But there are still some bad days.

⭐The more irritated he gets during an argument, the more he acts like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Stomping his foot, huffing and puffing, and if you make him mad enough he might even yell at you. By that point, he just makes the decision to "ban" you from the Daycare until he cools off again.

⭐No matter how bad your argument is, he always feels incredibly guilty about how he acted after--he should know better than that!!! And now you probably hate him, and you're never going to want to talk to him again and you'll probably want to leave and never come back and--!!! The guilt eats him up inside to the point that it Hurts.

🌙Moondrop + "Arguing With Their S/O:"🌙

⭐Moon is a lot more combative than he thinks. Of course, he's a stickler for the rules and stuff like that, but his jealous streak can also be a big issue. He's just so used to having control over most situations that having someone try to "challenge" that control immediately makes him defensive. Which, in turn, causes him to lash out.

⭐His immediate reaction whenever you argue is to try and intimidate you into backing down. Getting in your face, pinning you up against whatever surface you're closest to, and overall being a Grade-A Asshole. It's only once he realizes what he's done/doing does he resort to Option B: flee (like the big butthurt baby that he is).

⭐He spends a lot of time stuck in his own little pity party afterwards. He wouldn't blame you if you never wanted to see him again. It's probably better if you don't. Truthfully, Moon feels really bad about fighting with you and he really wants to tell you that he's sorry, but he just...doesn't know how. He's never had to, before now.

🐺Roxanne Wolf + "Arguing With Their S/O:"🐺

⭐Roxy knows that she tends to be the one who's picking fights when it comes to the two of you, but...she can't help it. There are just times when she starts beating herself up and then she gets sad, and then she gets mad, and then she lashes out at whoever's closest--and sometimes that person just so happens to be you.

⭐They're less of big arguments and more spur of the moment insults that she snaps without thinking. Only to realize what she's said the second it leaves her lips...and crumble at the realization that she really is nothing but a total loser. She couldn't even let the one person she loves the most close enough to comfort her. Why is she like this?

⭐She eventually just screams at you to "GET OUT!" and then spends a little bit of time avoiding you out of sheer guilt. It usually takes some pushing from Chica and/or Freddy to get her to finally approach you in order to make up, and she ends up breaking down again mid-apology. Wow, she can't even do this right!

[kettouryuujin]

Tasked with Survival - Part 1

Saw there's been a lot of interest in my feral survival AU, so...have a Part 1!

--------

Uggggh. What happened? The last thing she remembered was going to sleep, but…

There was no way she was in the same place. The sun was hitting her in all the wrong places, and she could feel grass underneath instead of any sort of bed.

Had she been kidnapped? The Clan would surely have stepped in, moving a person wasn’t something you could do silently. Didn’t matter if it was a Pokémon or a Human.

Who was nudging her? “Hey.” Nudge nudge. “Hey, you’re in my spot.”

“…not exactly willingly…” urgh. Alright, just open her eyes and look aroun-

What. The. Heck. That was a Glameow. And it was huge! Bigger than an Alpha! “Look missy, I don’t care if it was willing or not, but-”

“KYAAAAAAAAAAH!”

The sheer volume of her cry startled the feline, letting her run for cover. That was a talking Pokémon that was a talking Pokémon what the Distortion. The little one ran and ran, paws taking her as far as she could go-

...wait. Paws?

She found herself tripped up by the realization, going tumbling down this hill and ohno-

*THUD!*

----

ACH! Ok, ow. Being woken up by a hard impact was not how he expected to start the day, but...alright. Sure.

A groan as he rose, looking at the source of his current aches - a...very large Eevee. Who was sitting there, dizzy. Right, ok, so someone was playing a prank...

Not just “someone”, obviously. It had to be someone. Someone? So...Some...

His eyes widened as realization struck - he couldn’t remember the prankster's name. Or what they looked like, how old they were... anything! All he remembered was that they were a prankster.

Right, stand up and back away. “I...ok, whoever’s doing this, please stop...”

*blblblb* Huh, an Eevee shaking its head fast was kinda cute. “And another talking Pokémon...yay...” WHAT. 

Ok, the impact was one thing, but for this massive Eevee to think he was a Pokémon?! “You’re the talking Pokémon, not me!”

“I’m the talking - LOOK AT YOURSELF!” A slap later and he was on his back, grunting. Gah, why did you -

That was a whooooole lotta brown down there. A small hint of blue at his neck, but mostly brown and fuzzy. His paws (paws!!!) flailed as the Eevee slipped into panic, saying something about not remembering their name and ohcrap. “I...think that makes two of us...”

“W-what?” He let his head back down, eyes locking with the female’s startled expression.

“I can’t remember my name either. Or...much of anything. Only that I was a human, in a Clan of some kind, and some bits about fellow clansmen.”

“That...that’s exactly what I remember.” The male watched her start to pace while he started rocking back and forth. Getting back on his feet would be a good idea (even if he had 4 of them now…).

“Chances that we both fell victim to the same thing?” Ugh, ok, almost had it, almost had it...

“I’d say it’s practically a guarantee.” Sigh and groan, and then - Ah! He’s up! “Think we should work together?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Ok, get stable...there we go. “Normally I’d introduce myself, but-”

“No memories?” Oh, he didn’t like that teasing tone.

“No memories.” Grumble. 

“Could be worse. One of the people I remember only remembered their name.”

“Yeah, that would be worse.” A laugh as he stepped over to the female. “So. Got any plans, ms. Teamwork?”

“Ha ha. I...honestly think we need to try and find food and water first.” That sounded solid... and apparently, they still had basic knowledge. Yay! 

“Then some shelter, in case the weather turns bad.”

“Good point.”

----

Instead of food, water, or even shelter, the first thing they both found? A pair of teardrop-shaped collars, one gold, and one silver. The metal bands were oddly familiar - So much so that they’d started putting them on before even thinking about it.

Irida panicked. What the heck was she doing? She didn’t know what this thing was, it could’ve been what stole their memories or something! It was too dangerous, she had to get it off-

As paws gripped to remove the collar, Irida blinked. Hang on. Did she just use her name?

She...she did. She remembered her name again! Paws flew off the collar as her tail began wagging (against her will, but she was too excited to care). The ‘vee whirled towards her male counterpart, eager to see what he’d remember. His own golden collar was shining, especially the blue diamond set in the thicker end. His eyes were just as wide as her own, tail moving just as fast. “My name...My name. It’s Adaman!”

The newly-monikered Adamanlet out a joyful laugh as the female ‘mon snickered. “Irida. Glad to see we got our names back at least.” This would make things so much more convenient, not having to call each other by species name or the like-

“What’s that on your collar?” And Mr. Adaman was pointing at the fat end of her collar.

“Eh? The pearl? I mean, you recognized it earlier-” Her own paw brushed it, and suddenly both gems fired sort of... beam of light, onto the ground.

And where the circles on the ground overlapped, there were hints of words. “I-Adaman! We need to reposition.”

“Already on it, girl.” A small scoff as the male shifted around, Irida doing the same to get the circles lined up perfectly.

As suspected, the overlapping circles revealed a message. But the contents were...concerning.

‘Task: Reunite and acquire symbols of –MEMORY LOCKED–

Reward: Memory of names

Task: Complete all other tasks.

Reward: Regain humanity

Note: Cooperation will be required. Stay together as much as you can.

Time remaining: --insert timer here--’

“...does it seriously say ‘Insert timer here?” Adaman scoffed, smirking. It...was kinda funny, honestly-

Oh, new text. ‘Note: Apologies. The specific time limit had not been determined when your tasks began. Someone was slacking off, it seems.’ Snrrrk.

‘For now, it has been decided that you have one (1) week to complete the following:

-Acquire shelter. (Reward: memories of importance)

-Have enough food stored in your shelter for two (2) days. (Reward: location memories)

-Locate a water source near your shelter. (Reward: Clan affiliation memories)

-Learn two (2) moves apiece (BONUS)

Complete a task, and you will regain some memories. The bonus task will give you a special reward if you accomplish it, instead of returning any memories.

Failure to complete all non-bonus tasks in the week will result in permanent loss of humanity.’

That last sentence made both Evolution Pokémon freeze. “P-Permanent?”

“Loss of humanity?”

‘...We needed stakes. Do not worry - success will come with its own rewards.

I shall also inform you that there will likely be more tasks after this first set. The sooner you complete these, the sooner you will know of future tasks - and the more time you will have to accomplish them.

I wish you all the best.

-“A”, also known as “S”.’

“...Who the heck is this “A” person, and why does he think he can do this to us?!?” Yeah, Irida was miffed.

“I don’t think it matters right now... you see what they’re saying. If we can’t pull this off, we’re stuck as Eevees. Forever.”

“Alright, alright, fine. So. Shelter?” It wasn’t the original plan, but this “A” seemed to want them getting it first. And the idea of having space to themselves sounded… better, now.

“Shelter. Should be the easiest, and apparently grants some important memories.”

“Alright. Let’s go-hey!” Adaman had begun loping off as soon as she said “go”, and left the poor Eevee having to race after him. “Wait for me!”

[boymeetsweevil]

Call me maybe

Grouping: Reader x Namjoon

Word Count: ~6.59k

Warnings/Themes: Club meet-cute AU, 1% angst +99% suggestive fluff, (legal!) alcohol consumption, language, flirting anxiety(?)

Summary: It all started with a stupid drinking game...

A/N: this is the One Direction wattpad-style fanfic that's been haunting me for so long. beware of that and the fact that this is unedited hahaha...

“You know the rules, girls. Whoever wins this round of rock-paper-scissors is It.”

You and your three friends, warm and bubbly from 2 rounds of shots at this point in the evening, assume your battle stances and stick your hands into the center of your table. Four hands make a square over the scattered layer of empty decorative shot glasses from the bar in the club.

There’s an air of electric excitement that comes with this game, lovingly nicknamed Hunter-Gathering. Whoever is It gets a target and has to pursue that target in hopes of bringing ‘home’ free drinks for everyone the rest of the night. But no matter how attractive the target is, you can't ever bring them home.

“Wait, wait!” Lia chimes in. “I can’t be It this time. I did it twice already and my ass still hurts from the last time.”

Dani nods seriously. “Fair enough. That means the odds are upped for the rest of you.”

“So, we’re just gonna ignore that ass thing,” another friend, Alexa, looks around the table with confused eyes.

“Do you actually want me to give you the details?” Lia smiles slowly at her from across the table.

Alexa’s face brightens with her own smile, worry evaporated. “You know what? I don’t! Never mind.”

The game begins and somehow you find yourself the lone rock amongst two pairs of scissors. Alexa and Dani laugh with relief because they don’t have to put in any work tonight. You roll your eyes to the heavens and silently question your karma.

“Are you ready to pick your target?”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

“Nope!” Dani grins.

She steps forward and grabs a clean face mask out of her clutch bag and wraps it around your eyes, careful not to muss your makeup or hair. Three pairs of hands rest on your shoulders and you let them spin you lightly around a few times. Not enough to get you dizzy but just enough to make sure you don’t know what direction you’re facing anymore.

“Alright,” Dani’s voice sounds out over the music of the club. “Take your pick!”

You stick your hand out blindly and someone unties the makeshift blindfold. Everyone follows the line your hand makes all the way to a tall figure standing by the side of the bar.

He’s probably the most handsome man any of you have seen in a while. There's an intimidating aura emanating from him. You figure it's the understated all-black outfit complete with the heinously expensive watch he's wearing and the sheer height of him as he towers over people near him at the bar.

“Oh my god,” Dani whispers as you all take in the stranger’s face.

“We can finally get top shelf vodka,” Alexa pretends to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye.

“Not bad,” Lia hums in appreciation.

“Okay, why is everyone acting like I bagged him already?” Your voice grows high with nerves. “I'm pretty sure I have, like, a 2% chance of interesting him."

“What are you so worried about?” Dani crosses her arms at you. “Just do whatever you did to get those history nerds to help you out that one time."

"This is not the same thing. Those guys parted their hair 90/10 unironically and thought Diva Cups are for when you don't want to hold your pee when you stand in line for roller coasters."

"You're kidding," Lia gasps. You wish you were.

"Well, just pretend he's one of them anyway." Dani suggests, "Every guy is the same."

You can't argue with that logic.

“I mean, I can try flirting with him, but he’s probably so used to people throwing themselves at him. I don’t think anything I do would, like, make a dent, you know?”

“Babe, no. No—listen to me, okay?” Alexa takes you by the shoulders and forces you around so you can see how serious she is.

“Tonight is the last free night of vacation. After tonight, we have less than a day to get over our hangovers, pack up the Airbnb, and then catch our 6am flight back home to start the spring term. Our last night of freedom lies in your hands.”

“But, what if—”

“No ‘but’s. Do you see yourself? Do you see your skin in this fresh white two piece? Have you seen how your tits look in this off the shoulder top? That poor man doesn’t stand a chance!”

Lia murmurs her agreement in the background and Dani mentions something about fearing for the guy's soul. You think about the freakishly good pictures you all took in the stylish club bathroom when you first arrived.

“I see your point.”

You turn back toward the bar to review your target. He sips from a dark green bottle as he looks around at the people on the dance floor between your table and the bar. As he continues to scan the room, he locks eyes with you. You hold his gaze even though your instincts are screaming at you to duck for cover. Surprisingly, he gives a small smile and raises his bottle in salute.

"See, you got the hardest part down already. Just fake the rest until you make it."

You chance a look back in his direction only to catch him staring in the direction of the table. When he catches your gaze again, he whips his head away, cheeks tinging pink under the soft yellow lighting at the bar.

Alexa cackles and starts detailing all the drinks she wants made with the top shelf vodka. Lia and Dani discuss leaving early to go back and clean up the apartment so it’s clean in case you break the rules and bring this guy back for the night.

“Uh, aren’t you guys moving a little fast?”

“Aren’t you moving a little slow,” Alexa counters.

“Hold on, Lex.” Dani turns to you. “You know you don’t actually have to do this if you don’t want to, right? Hunter-Gathering is just a game, there's no pressure.”

For all their poking and teasing, you're reminded right then and there that your friends would never put you in a situation where they thought you were actually at any risk. The weight you felt on your shoulders lightens somewhat.

“No, no, I definitely still want to play, I just don’t want you guys to get your hopes up.”

“I believe in you.”

Lia bumps shoulders with you quietly. She’s not the most affectionate, so you know she really means it.

“I’ll do my best.”

You let them tweak you a little bit, fixing stray hairs and wiping away smeared lip gloss and hiking up your skirt, giving you their drink orders, before you grab your purse and phone and push in your stool.

When you finally make it to the bar, he’s in the same spot as you first found him in. He spots you once you get close enough and naturally makes room for you. You set your bag on the bar countertop before hopping up on the empty stool immediately in front of him. The movement causes your skirt to ride up even more and you’re glad you only let Lia hike it up one inch instead of three.

Dani's advice about treating this guy like any other scrub from school reverbs in the back of your head right as the nerves start to set in. With the guys in your art history class, your grade was on the line. There was no room for hesitation when you could barely draw a stick figure, much less write an essay analyzing what an old painting style could tell you about the dairy economy in a certain town like some of your classmates were doing. It was because you were desperate that you were suddenly able to transform into a femme fatale. It also helped that these guys quivered at any interaction with an adult woman.

Tonight's drinks are on the line, you tell yourself. As best you can, you try to trick yourself into entering the same mindset you were in when you would lay on the charm extra thick for the art history guys.

You let the corner of your mouth lift up in a coy smile while you survey the bar. The bartender is moving back and forth quickly to handle the high demand. A second later the girl next to you leaves her spot with a tray of 8 bright pink drinks, practically glowing in the dark. You wonder briefly if you should try to get a round of those for the table.

“—one of those before?”

His voice is deep and pleasant. When you give him a look over your shoulder, you have to suppress a gasp. Up close he's even more handsome. You really have your work cut out for you.

“What?"

"That neon pink drink," he nods back in the direction of the girl who'd taken the cotton candy pink drinks with her. "I was wondering if you'd tried them before."

“No, I haven’t,” you smile, letting your lips part slowly. His eyes dart from your painted eyes to the colored stretch of your mouth and then quickly back up. “Have you?”

“No. But I like to try new things.”

You purse your lips as if in thought, something you've seen other girls do while flirting with guys at school. “You must be pretty unpredictable, then.”

“Huh? Well, I wouldn’t say that.” He stammers a bit and nearly drops his beer bottle trying and failing to put it down. All the intimidation you felt coming from him earlier seems to have disappeared.

“I was just kidding.”

Like it has a mind of its own, your hand reaches out to rest on his arm reassuringly while you continue to laugh at him. His features clear up then and a relieved smile blooms on his face, bringing out an adorable dimple with it.

“You’re teasing me,” he realizes with a good natured huff and steps into your touch.

“You seem kinda fun to tease.” You let your hand linger a little longer before finally pulling it back.

“It’s kinda fun. You're pretty good at it.”

Oddly enough, this isn't as difficult for you as you thought it was going to be. In fact, you find yourself naturally tilting your head and fixing him with an intrigued look from under your lashes. He takes the opportunity to look you over as well, a small smile on his lips.

The personal attention does make you a little nervous despite the fact that it’s positive. So you dig in your purse to avoid looking directly at him for too long and to give your hands something to do. You brush up against a tube of lip gloss, pull it out, and reapply some to your lips.

You look back at him when you realize he’s grown quiet, only to find him following the movements of the gloss brush tracing the curve of your lips, cheeks dusted pink and eyes half-closed like he's in some sort of trance.

Experimentally you press your lips together and then purse them to make sure the gloss is distributed evenly. The man doesn't blink once. Suddenly, all his expensive apparel and large stature aren’t so intimidating.

"Is there something on my face," you smirk.

He slow blinks down at your mouth twice before realizing you're speaking again. His eyes grow wide and he raises a ringed hand to rub at the back of his neck. The movement rustles the hair covering his ears, revealing their pink tips. Cute.

"Just looking."

You laugh a little at him again. He marvels at the way the club lighting dances around in your glossy smile.

"So, how come I've never seen you here before?"

"Well...it's the first time me and my friends have come here."

"I see." He pivots to face you and leans his closest elbow on the counter of the bar. "Are you guys new to the area?"

"You could say that, yeah."

He raises an eyebrow when you don’t elaborate. Without looking away, he raises his hand to signal to the bartender that he wants another drink. When the bartender runs right over, you realize this guy actually might be a big deal. Silently you pull your card out of your wallet as the bartender makes their way over. You figure you’ll have to spend some money before you can really ask someone like him to buy drinks for your table.

"What'll it be,” the bartender asks.

"Two of those pink drinks please," he says and before you can place any order the bartender zooms away.

While the bartender starts preparing the drinks, you turn toward him.

"Who said I wanted the pink drink?"

He grins down at you, a dimple now popping up in each cheek. "Who said it's for you?"

"I'm pretty sure it's for me."

"And what makes you so sure?" He takes a step closer to you.

"Just a hunch," you hum before crossing your legs.

The white fabric of your skirt hikes up your thighs again with the movement. You smooth your palms over the soft material.

"Nice skirt."

"Yeah? You like it?"

"I like it," he admits quietly.

"And the top?" You gesture toward the pair of straps on the matching tube top, manicured nails gliding over your décolletage. He wets his lips.

"The top too."

He reaches out one large hand to one of the straps that have fallen over your shoulder. The drag of his fingers against your bare arm as he fixes it makes you shiver. You lament the loss of contact when pulls his hand back.

The bartender arrives with your drinks then, startling the both of you out of the little staring competition that had spontaneously started. The pink drink seems to glow from within, topped with whipped cream and full of little round ice cubes made from some sort of darker rose syrup floating in the liquid like lava in a lava lamp. The color barely prepares you for the thick sweetness that floods your mouth on the first sip.

"Oh, that's kinda..."

He huffs a laugh around his own first swallow and nods in agreement.

"Not what you wanted?"

"It's just really sweet. You like it?”

He shrugs. “It’s alright. But—"

The way he cuts himself off has you confused for a moment before he's reaching towards you cautiously. You're not too sure what's going on until you feel the pad of his thumb swipe over the corner of your lips carrying away some of the whipped topping from the drink. Your eyes widen when instead of wiping the cream on one of the cocktail napkins available on the counter he brings his thumb to his own lips. In a fraction of a second the cream is gone, but you're left feeling a rush of fluttering warmth on the side of your mouth and in the center of your chest.

"You think your friends would like these?” He slides his drink to the side so he can lean on his elbow and turn to you again. Now's your chance.

“Um, I don’t think this is really their style.”

“What is their style?”

You rattle off their drinks of choice, making sure to mention their favorite brands with a sigh. Of course, whenever you play this game, the brands can change depending on the budget of whoever’s buying. This time, you make sure to name drop as much as possible, per Alexa's request.

“Sounds like your friends really know what they like.”

“Yeah, they have really…unique tastes.” You falter a little under his amused stare. “But we don’t always drink that way. I mean, not every bar even carries all those to begin with.”

“That’s true.” He nods. “This bar has every single of them, though. Pretty lucky, huh?”

“Yep,” you chirp. You’re not sure if you’re in trouble or not because he’s still smiling. He seems to be onto the game, but doesn’t seem bothered by it.

“Well, it would be a shame not to welcome you all to the city. Get whatever you want. My treat.”

“Are you sure?”

You place your hand on his arm again and squeeze for good measure. You don’t miss the way his large bicep flexes under your touch. After a beat, he brings his hand up to grasp yours and holds it while signaling to the bartender again. You give him a blindingly bright smile and he strokes his thumb over your knuckles.

He asks the bartender to ‘take care’ of your table tonight on him, and you realize then that you’ve won the game. The victory isn't nearly as sweet as the pink drinks from earlier. The rules prohibit you from bringing him home or going over to his place. And even if it wasn't prohibited, your vacation is basically over.

“Where are you and your friends from?

You take his hand between yours and play with some of the rings on his fingers. They’re beautiful together in an eclectic way and you wonder if someone chose them for him.

“It’s a kind of small city, not like this one. It’s really just our university and then a few surrounding towns.”

“What made you guys move here then?"

"Oh, Right." You feel guilty. "Me and my friends are just here for vacation."

He blinks at you but takes the news in stride. "Well, if you want—I know the city pretty well since I have a place here—maybe I can give you a tour of the town later this week."

"I'd love that, I really would. But we're actually leaving tomorrow."

"For real?” His eyes grow wide and he looks down at your linked hands before looking over your face. You're shocked to see his features fall.

"Yeah, it sucks."

“Damn,” he smiles bittersweet at the floor. “I wish we’d bumped into each other sooner.”

“I absolutely agree," the sound of Alexa's voice rings loud in your ear.

“Uh, hello. Did you need me for something?" Your voice is high and tight as you fix her with an accusatory stare. You're not 100% positive, but it seemed like you and he were having a moment.

"No, babe, I just wanted to come over and show you my beautiful drink. I wanted to come show my gratitude to you both for making sure we have a good last night. The girls will appreciate that. Thank you, kind sir."

“Name’s Namjoon. And no need to thank me,” he smiles at the exchange between you two and sticks out his hand. Alexa daintily lays her hand in his and he lets out an incredulous laugh before playing along and raising it to his lips.

"What a gentleman," she coos before pinching lightly at the skin of your exposed back. It's a clear message just for you, telling you that there's about to be a change in plans. "What were you guys discussing?"

"I was actually about to offer up our booth. There's more than enough room for your table if you wanted to move. Me and my team—friends definitely wouldn't mind the company."

“You don’t have to do that!” You pipe up, suddenly shy. But it's quickly dashed away as Alexa pulls out her phone and opens up the groupchat.

"Let me just ask our friends if they’d like that."

You already know the answer, so you sigh quietly and gather up your card, phone, and purse. You can’t say you won’t miss the privacy from when it was just you and Namjoon, but you’re glad to be with your friends again as well.

The move from your little table to the VIP booth is lightning fast. By the time you get your own drink, Lia and Dani are already clutching their things and vibrating with excitement near the ropes leading to the VIP booth. A few of Namjoon’s friends are chatting with them from the other side of the ropes.

Once your group trickles in, you don't miss how they all arrange themselves in the booth so you're forced to sit on the end next to Namjoon with barely any space. The only options are to let one of your legs hang off the edge of the booth the whole time or sit practically half in his lap. Alexa winks at you over the first sip of her next very expensive drink.

Namjoon's friends are occupied by your friends re-telling some of the more exciting parts of the beginning of your vacation. Some story about how 'someone' lost their top while trying to jet ski. You send a weak glare to Lia as she tries to get them to guess just whose top it was. That's what you get for experimenting with spaghetti strings, you suppose.

"Do you guys like to dance," one of his friends says after a while of vibing to the music once the chatter cools down. Hoseok, you think his name was.

"Yes, definitely." Dani remarks while re-applying lip gloss. "You know who's a great dancer?"

"Who?" Hoseok looks around excitedly.

"She's gonna say me," you groan. "Which is not even true but let’s just all move down there already, no more 20 questions."

"Just one more," she pouts. "Namjoon, do you like to dance?"

He looks down at you once he's also out the booth, that little amused smile back on his lips.

"Well, it's not really part of my day job, but I don't mind it too much."

"What's your day job," you blurt out.

"I'm a...musician."

"A musician!" Alexa rushes over to you to link arms. "Did you hear that? Namjoon’s a musician."

"I don't recognize you," Lia says and Hoseok and another one of his friends burst into quiet laughter behind her.

"You definitely won't find Joon’s pics anywhere, that's for sure," one of his friends says. The rest of them dissolve into another fit of giggles.

The club lights hide the muted pink tinge his cheeks take on, and Namjoon leads the way to the dance-floor with a chagrined roll of his eyes.

"You think he's really a musician?” You whisper to Alexa and Lia. Dani is somewhere up ahead, already dancing.

"Maybe technically. Going off the way his friends keep laughing, he's probably, like, a failed SoundCloud rapper or something."

"No failed SoundCloud rapper wears Gucci like that," Lia motions with her chin to some piece of Namjoon’s outfit.

"That's true," you hum.

"Rich parents," Alexa says simply.

You and Lia consider it and then nod.

As you settle on the dance floor, you feel the rest of your nerves drift away. Lia comes over to take a selfie with you, and the two of you flirt with the camera until she's satisfied with the photos you've taken. She grabs your hand and makes a show of spinning you around and you figure that this is how the night will go before you stumble out around 2 or 3am and drunk pack for the flight home the next morning. You let her lead you back, further into the crowd before you bump into someone.

Namjoon's large hand comes to stabilize you at your waist and Lia acts like nothing happened before dancing away, phone light illuminating her sneaky smile.

"You good?" Namjoon's voice is soft in your ear.

"Y-yeah."

"You wanna dance, or should I let you go?"

Your friends shamelessly all look at the way he curves himself around you, all with their thumbs up in encouragement. You're reminded of the way you did the same a few nights prior when Dani was getting hit on by some cute guy at a different club.

At that time it felt fun hyping her up and watching her make a move, seeing how enamored this random guy was with your friend. Of course he is, you thought at the time, she's amazing. And you remember that this is probably what's driving them tonight as well with you and Namjoon.

You chance a look at him and realize that he's come to rest his cheek lightly near your temple, a soft look in his gaze as he awaits your answer.

"Sure, let's dance."

Namjoon was telling the truth when he said he wasn't all that into dancing. But he put in enough work to be able to follow you and meet you halfway while you were grinding on him to the music.

Even when you shyly stepped away after the first few dances to return to your squealing friends, you loosened up over time with more music and drinks and found yourself naturally ending up on him again. The first few songs turned into more and more and soon you were face-to-face, with his thigh wedged between yours and a heavy palm on your lower back guiding you to the beat.

You're not sure when you decided to abandon your friends and his, but at some point you did return to the booth under the guise of checking your phones. And you did check your phone first. But soon he was crowding you toward the wall by the booth and leaving you with no air of your own.

"You're really leaving tomorrow," he sighed into a bruise he was trying to leave near the hollow of your throat. "Or did you just say that because I was some creep at a bar."

"I never thought you were a creep."

He looks down at you with disbelief before getting distracted by your kiss-swollen lips.

"I mean it. I'm just a little shy sometimes."

"What do you have to be shy about when you look like this, huh?"

"Stop," you laugh lightly and look away from him.

He'd made a comment earlier about how much he liked the pristine white two piece you wore, but you'd been inching his hand up your skirt then. Now, one of his thumbs rubs an idle pattern just below the curve of your breast.

"No, but seriously. Are you actually leaving tomorrow?"

"Yeah. The new term starts for us all in a few days."

"So, leave in a few days," Namjoon whines.

"That's not enough time to get ready for the term."

"But I'll be so alone without you."

He gives you an exaggerated pout that splits into a real smile when you snort at his stupid expression. He pulls you to him just a smidgen tighter then.

"Does this usually work with other girls?"

"I don't know. Never tried it with other girls," he frowns a little at you.

"Sure."

"You know me and the team almost went to Club BigHit last Saturday?"

"Oh, really? That's kinda funny." You try to imagine what might have happened if he'd come to the same club you went to earlier.

"Yeah," Namjoon's voice grows quiet. "If I hadn't gotten sick then we would have met last week."

"Yeah, maybe."

"You sure you can't miss a few days of the term?"

"Yes, I'm sure." You let out an exasperated laugh. "You can't really be this upset that an actual stranger is just passing through your life."

"No, I know. I just—," he lets his head fall forward until he's touching his forehead to yours. "It was like something clicked when I saw you. I feel like I need more time with you."

"Oh," your voice comes out a little breathier than you expected.

The same look that had flashed across his face when you first came up to him finally gets to rest on his features. You want to let him down gently because you really can't play catch up during the first week of school.

"Tell you what. I can't miss the beginning of the term but if you make a song with my name in it and it gets...say, 50,000 listens, I'll buy a ticket that same day and come meet you. Wherever you are."

He pins you with a look then, inquisitive and dark. His eyes scan your open expression for something, before whatever he finds passes the test. He stands up tall.

"And it just needs to have 50,000 listens?"

In your mind you were thinking it would be too lofty for a failed SoundCloud rapper, but something in his tone sounds like he's rising to the challenge and it makes you nervous. You spent a lot on this vacation, you can't afford to actually fly out so soon if he somehow managed to get the listens and call your bluff. Besides, targets are off limits.

"Um, actually make that 150,000. And it has to have my area code in it too." You rattle off the three digits to him and he quickly types your conditions into the notes app on his phone.

"Is that it?"

"That's it, I guess."

"Deal."

Namjoon pockets his phone and leans back into your space. Any worries you had clawing to the forefront of your mind vanish when he presses soft lips to yours once more.

A month passes.

You don't end up having a one-night-stand with Namjoon because it wouldn't be fair to your friends when they'd clicked with a target but didn't take them home. That and because Dani got sick on the dance floor from mixing strawberry daiquiri with one too many pink drinks. But you do pass on your full number after he very nearly begs you to give it to him while packing into a cab.

And then he never used it.

It's not that you were expecting much, but when a month passes with not so much as word from him, you figure he forgot about you and your little bet.

Then 2 months pass.

Even though you know that you only spent a fraction of a day with him, you can't help thinking about Namjoon. Namjoon and his pretty eyes and pretty words that made you think there was some sort of connection there. You realize after the first two weeks back that you don't have his number but by the time 2 months pass, you realize that was definitely on purpose.

4 months pass.

You're over it, swamped with end of term work like finals and grading and putting in hours at work. But every time your friends suggest a little fun and hooking you up with someone, every time someone asked for your number at a coffee shop, you said no. Because you're over it and you're busy and not at all disappointed for how hard you fell for the lies some failed SoundCloud rapper fed you on a vacation one time.

19 weeks pass.

You're all in Lia's apartment, basking in the first few days of the end of classes even if it means finals are a few days later. Alexa is playing her favorite playlist on the speakers and you're taking a break to get some coffee going in the small kitchenette.

While the coffee machine starts up you wander back to the main room. Alexa is leaning over to turn the music up, one of her favorite songs just now coming up.

"Who's this again," Dani pipes up from her spot on the couch. "It's that one guy's collab with the Bulletproof Girlscouts, right?"

"Yep," Alexa checks the song title before sighing. "This song is so old now."

"True, but it's my favorite one on the whole album."

"I guess it really has been two years since his last album, huh." Dani muses and then goes back to her practice problem set.

You try not to laugh at how cute Alexa looks sulking because her favorite artist hasn't put out any music in so long.

"Why don't you just play his new stuff," Lia says.

"He's on indefinite hiatus. This is as new as it gets."

Lia picks up her own phone, showing it to the group.

"He released a new single this morning."

"What!"

Alexa scrambles from her seat to grab her headphones and jam them into her phone. You all know how she gets about her music and let her have a moment to soak up the new song while you get up to check on the coffee.

It takes a few minutes to get cups out and put everything together since everyone has different tastes, so you're in the middle of pouring creamer when you hear a chorus of screams.

"Why are we screaming?"

You rush into the main room again only to be bombarded with music from the speaker, this time turned up as high as it can go. What must be the new song comes through the speaker, the bass vibrating on the ground as the speaker pumps.

"Okay, yes, new song. It's good but I don't get—"

"Just listen to the fucking bridge," Dani's voice comes out incredibly shrill as she cuts you off.

The beat surges for the bridge and suddenly the lyrics turn into the artist growling about some girl he met at the club with the prettiest little white outfit he'd ever seen. Saying something that sounds oddly like your name, although you figure that can't be right. But then the next verse has your name in it too, and the next one, and the next one.

Your feet take you to where Alexa's phone is plugged in and you pick up the phone to look at the song. It's indeed a song by her favorite artist, a prolific and mysterious rapper who's never shown his face and who'd been on hiatus from making music. The song title is simple, a small string of numbers that look suspiciously like your area code.

When you let out a tiny gasp, your friends let out more excited shrieks. You ignore them in favor of thumbing through the music app to the artist's page where the new single lies at the top of his discography. To the right of all his songs are the stream counts. Most of his older songs have a few dozen million or so. This brand new one sits at a modest 4 million, but the numbers trickle up as the app updates them in real time.

"What the hell?"

"I know!" Alexa cries, tears shining in her eyes. "I can't believe we sat in a VIP booth with him and I didn't even recognize his stupid voice!"

"What are you gonna do," Dani smiles widely at your stunned face. "Are you gonna call him?"

"I don't have his number," you say simply. Your voice comes out monotone with shock.

"You didn't get his number?" Alexa starts crying for real.

"People are blowing my phone up about this," Lia says once the song ends and begins again on a loop. "You might want to turn off your phone. It's just a matter of time until people start snooping around."

"Right."

You grab your phone from your pocket. On instinct you scan through your socials one last time before turning it off. There's a startling number of texts, calls, emails, and notifications on your social media apps. Curiosity gets the best of you and you open up one of them only to find your name trending as the top hashtag. Clicking on it brings up a bunch of tweets both from fans raving about the new song and wondering who the muse is, to random accounts with identical names in the handle all claiming to be said muse.

"Oh my god, he tweeted!" Dani shoves her phone into your hands.

As of right now [2:38pm] we're at 5.76 million streams. That's more than 150,000...

"What does that mean," she asks you.

"It means...he wants me to fly out to see him. Today."

"Oh my god."

Alexa screams again and at this point you've lost count of how many that is. Lia gets out of her chair and tucks her chin over your shoulder to read the post herself.

"You need to go," Alexa shouts. "I'll help you pack, let's go."

"What about finals?"

"Are you—are you actually thinking of not going because of finals?"

"I mean—"

"If you want me die, just say that," she does something with her mouth that looks like a manic smile.

"What Lex means to say is that this is a once in a lifetime opportunity and I'm sure even the profs would understand."

You're not sure what to say. First of all, you still don't have his number. Second of all, you're not sure how to fight through all the other accounts claiming to be you to let him know you saw the song. Third, you don't even know where to fly to. Fourth—

A Twitter notification chimes from your phone and a deadly hush falls over everyone. You go to your DM inbox with shaking fingers only to find a message request from an unknown sender. When you open the request, it's from Namjoon's agency.

Good afternoon,

You are being contacted today because one of our artists wishes to meet you. If you consent to the meeting, please review the flight information and tentative itinerary below and respond with your address and contact information. Please also note that the travel plans are for today [MM/DD/YYYY], so your response at your earliest convenience would be much appreciated. If you would like to go but cannot make it today—

"Do you think they'll send a car or should I book her a ride to the airport now?" Dani turns to Alexa.

"They'll probably send one to make sure the schedule is followed."

"That's true but what about—"

Lia taps you on the shoulder, startling you out of your stupor.

"There's a convenience store two doors down. Whatever you buy we can put in one of my suitcases and you can just take that. There's probably not enough time to go all the way back to your place."

"I—yeah, okay."

7 hours later finds Alexa, Dani and Lia finished with studying for the night. The entertainment channel is playing on the TV and the three of them have their heads bent over their phones and laptops, refreshing all the major gossip sites for updates.

"Maybe she's not even there yet," Dani sighs when the page she just refreshed shows no new posts.

"Yeah, I mean we still don't even know where she is," Lia says while putting her laptop to sleep. "What if they made her sign an NDA?"

"Even if they did, she'd probably still tell us once she got there. She's probably just busy killing time on the plane."

"She's sleeping!" Alexa screams a second later.

"Huh? How do you know that?"

"Check his instagram," is all she says before frantically typing a message to you about souvenirs.

Lia looks over at Dani's phone as she pulls up Namjoon's page. The rest of the layout is bare given his up until recent hiatus and the fact that he never posted any type of selfie. The video uploaded a mere 20 seconds ago undoes all the previous minimalism of the entire account.

The post isn't even of Namjoon. It's a black and white 5 second video of the top half of your naked back and shoulders, the rest of your body covered by the sheets. One of your arms is raised to cover your head with a pillow. The only sign of Namjoon is the arm that reaches out from the bottom of the frame, making it clear that he took the video himself. His hand reaches out to trace a heart over the skin of your shoulder blade. The caption reads:

Thanks for keeping your promise