#[ whoops wrong league muse--- ]

[typingatlightspeed]

TF2 Fanfic - A Promise

After another in a series of losses, Demoman and Sniper retire to their quarters for a lie-in until dinner, to cuddle and relax.  They get talking, and reflect on their relationship, what their actual anniversary is to them, judicious usage of magic items, how Sniper actually did have lycanthropy for like a week there, and their life together.

Sweet fluff, and a small showcase of the rollercoaster that is Demoman's emotional state at any given moment. Part of Monstrous Intent!

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"You've failed!"

  The slamming of locker doors clanged off of the tile walls and floors, it and the shuffle of feet reverberating through the Builder's League United locker room. The BLU team trundled into the showers, wholly beaten and exhausted. Respawn could do a lot of things, but it couldn't conquer fatigue nor the death or morale.

"What a miserable match," Pyro sighed, turning on the water and yelping, then hopping out of the line of fire to wait for the water to heat up. He ignored Spy snickering as he passed by. "Shit, I always forget it's so cold at first."

"'s what you get for never showerin' after matches," Scout teased, letting the initial blast of cold from his shower head hit him square in the face.

"Surprised you're joinin' us now," Sniper mused. He popped open his shampoo as the water beat down at his hair.

"I don't need to shower," Pyro hummed, reaching a hand out to check the water's temperature, frowning as it slowly began to warm. "But since everyone knows what I look like now, it seems silly not to join everyone."

"Py wants to get in on the victory gangbangs," Scout explained, lathering shampoo into his fur.

Pyro shot him a frown of betrayal, but Sniper couldn't help but whoop a laugh. "Looks like we've gotta step our game up then, with this losin' streak."

"I've got shit timing," Pyro said with a chuckle, finally satisfied enough with the water's heat to step into it.

Sniper cocked an eyebrow at the sight. Pyro couldn't be doused, but he'd seen how he'd burned in cooler colours in Engineer's pool. Here, with the shower's spray pelting him, his flaming flesh prickled with dark and light spots, colour seeming to ebb and flow of its own accord with each droplet's contact as it cooled his skin for a short moment before the heat flooded back. It was strangely lovely, and a smile crossed his lips. Engineer was a lucky bloke.

"Oi, yer watchin' the wrong show," Demoman chided Sniper, slapping his lover's wet back with a soapy hand.

Turning to Demoman, Sniper chuckled, pleased to see his partner facing away from him, looking back over one shoulder to be sure he was being watched. He wiggled his bum at the bushman with a grin, backing toward him until he made contact with Sniper's hip, pushing him just gently enough to not knock him off of his feet on the slippery tiles. Sniper replied by grabbing a handful and giving him an ample squeeze. "Your room after this?"

Demoman hummed his pleasure at the firm grip on his bottom. He flexed a bit in Sniper's hands. "Aye, I'm knackered. I'd like a lie-in with ye til dinner, if ye please."

"Sounds right lovely," Sniper replied, releasing him and following up with a light spank. Fatigue tugged at all of his joints, and the heat of the water only served to lull him further. A nap with Demoman sounded the perfect way to spend the rest of the afternoon.

"It's a date, then," Demoman said with a grin.

  *

  The door swung closed with an unassuming click, Demoman's fatigue too great to even muster a good slam. He wasn't even frustrated with the day's loss anymore, just utterly exhausted. His bed looked like heaven itself. He dumped his dirty laundry in the hamper he kept in the corner and dropped the towel from around his waist, leaving it on the floor. With little more ceremony, he flopped onto the creaky mattress with a sigh.

To call it his bed these days would be a gross misnomer. Hell, to call them just his quarters would be an outright lie at this point. After all, Sniper had also dumped his laundry into the same hamper, set his hat and sunglasses on the small writing desk that beside the door, let his towel fall, and followed suit, sagging onto the bed like a bag of sand, mostly amorphous as he slumped against the bomber's warm body. They'd been sharing quarters basically since their relationship became official, Sniper's quarters used mostly as a place to park the things he didn't need every day and didn't just keep in his ute. Their clothes, their tools, their weapons; those all lived in Demoman's quarters. Their quarters.

Sniper wriggled his way between Demoman's arm and torso, resting his head on the man's chest and draping an arm and a leg over him. He sighed contentedly, holding his lover close with what little energy he had left, letting his eyes drift closed. "Mmm, perfect."

"That ye are," Demoman teased, yanking his eyepatch off and tossing it onto the night stand. He rubbed at his forehead where the strap crossed and let out a long yawn.

A soft laugh rose in Sniper's chest, the assassin pulling his arm back a bit to lay a hand flat upon Demoman's chest and lightly tickle through the sparse curls that dusted it. His skin was always so warm, and the scrawny assassin had been especially glad for it throughout their last assignment at Coldfront. "Thank the gods Truckie got the aircon workin'. That was a bloody nightmare findin' it down when we got 'ere."

"Ye've said it a hundred times and honestly I cannae disagree," Demoman teased. "Dinnae ken what I'd do if it were too hot tae lie here with ye."

"Go bloody mad, likely."

"Absolutely. Have tae be able tae touch ye." Demoman wrapped his arm tightly around Sniper and tugged him closer. "I need ye like I need air."

"Dramatic," Sniper teased, pressing a kiss to Demoman's chest.

"Honest, still."

"Can't say as I disagree. You've got me hooked," Sniper chuckled, his hand petting slow circles on the bomber's chest. His fingers brushed against the cameo of his periapt of hybrid form, the motion making the necklace's chain jingle softly in the quiet room. "Wearin' this to work?"

"Tryin' tae get used tae havin' it on under me clothes," Demoman explained, looking down at the necklace and letting his fingertips dance over the cameo to tease at Sniper's fingers. He covered the assassin's hand with his own and gave it a gentle squeeze, lingering there. "Dinnae want tae forget tae wear it."

"Wearin' it all the time, then?"

"Aye, just in case. This bauble's for fun, sure, but it's also a weapon I can have on-hand no matter what."

"You're still freaked out by the yeti thing."

"Absolutely. When it was the Jersey Devil, I had me stickies. I had Eyelander. I had the best possible chance o' protectin' ye given the situation at hand, and I dinnae regret the fight I put up. A lot more was goin' on there what ended up with us half-dead. But in that cave? Couldnae use explosives or I'd risk bringin' the mountain down on us. Didnae have space for a sword big enough tae make the great bastard think twice. What if we'd accidentally wandered out o' respawn range and didn't ken? What if that yeti'd gotten violent with ye? What if he'd nae wanted tae bargain at all? What if he decided tae just toss me arse off the cliff and keep ye after all?"

"And with the wolf on hand, you'll never be completely disarmed."

"Exactly. Keep at least an hour of time on the necklace at all times, just in case." Demoman squeezed Sniper's hand again, then lifted his hand to Sniper's chin, tilting him up to look him in the eye. "I promise, I'll never let a monster hurt ye again. 'Least, not without a bloody fight."

Sniper smiled at that. "A promise." He shifted up to capture Demoman's lips in a soft kiss, his own hand coming to rest on the wolf-fang necklace that hung from his neck from a leather cord. "Kinda like this," he murmured as they parted. Demoman's eye followed the movement.

"That's a promise?" Demoman smiled in confusion, tilting his head a bit. "What d'ye mean by that?"

Sniper stared for a long moment, then hefted himself over to lay less on his side and more on his belly against Demoman. "Have I never told you?"

That made a bit of concern drift into the bomber's expression, an eyebrow quirking up. "Told me what?"

A soft laugh hissed though Sniper's nose, and immediately dispelled the tension rising in Demoman. "I can't believe—" Sniper shook his head. "It's magic, too. It's a necklace of proof against lycanthropy."

"Proof against lycanthropy?"

"Nah, yeh, I bought it from Merasmus the week after our first shag, since I intended to keep screwin' around with you and all," he chuckled.

"So is that why yer okay with a bit o' bitin'?" Demoman teased. "I'd been wonderin'."

"Yeh, because the bitin' is the real concern with me catchin' it." Sniper snorted a laugh.

That had Demoman tilting his head again, confusion knitting his brow. Before he could voice a question, the fact that there was a question at all made Sniper's gut sink. "You have no idea, do you?"

"Idea about what?" Demoman asked, now worried, lost.

"Tav, lycanthropy can be sexually transmitted."

"It WHAT?! "

"You didn't know that? Any fluid transfer can transmit the curse, like a disease."

"How the bloody hell would I know that? You're the first person I ever even shagged as the wolf, remember?"

"Your parents're werewolves! They didn't tell you?"

Demoman clapped a hand to his forehead, pressing the heel to his eye socket. "Oh, aye, me mum absolutely gave me The Talk But For Werewolves. Definitely something she'd bother with, right after pluckin' me back out o' the orphanage she'd dropped me off at in the first place," he drolled.

"Right, fair enough," Sniper conceded with a sheepish grin. As much as Lady DeGroot had a dirty sense of humour, he couldn't imagine the uptight, traditionalist, lecture-prone mother to be the type to sit her boy down to explain the importance of safe werewolf sex.

"...wait a tic." Demoman scrubbed his hand over his face then let it fall away, staring up at the ceiling for a moment before turning back to Sniper. "You got the necklace after our first shag?"

"Yeh."

"Does that mean— Mickey does that mean I've cursed ye?! " Demoman rolled a bit, pitching onto his side so he could look Sniper face-to-face, grabbing his bicep. "Is that wee fang the only thing keepin' ye human?" His eye flicked down to the necklace between them, then up to his lover, panic beginning to seep into his mind.

He'd cursed him. He'd cursed the one man who had ever loved him, the man who was his entire world. He'd cursed him with the same awful affliction that had turned so much of his life into solitary self-loathing and cagey fear of intimacy. From birth his life had been dominated by the twenty-eight day cycle that forced him to schedule his entire existence around becoming a dangerous, barely-controlled beast, foregoing friendships and romance for fear of discovery, for fear of rejection, for fear of endangering the people he'd cared about. And here, without even knowing, in the throes of animal lust, he had burdened the most important person in his universe with this same curse. On an impulse, letting go of the careful control he'd build up over a lifetime of secrecy and self-denial, he'd cursed this perfect man and ruined his life. Shame boiled in his heart, that his selfish desire would damn Sniper, that his refusal to resist his advances, to think better, to know better, had—

"Tav? Tav, calm down," Sniper soothed, seeing the emotions flooding his lover's face, the spiral beginning to wind up in his head. "You're fine. I'm fine. I'm not cursed." He pet at his lover's jaw, grounding him, pulling him out of his thoughts and making him focus on the narrow blue eyes that looked at him with utter adoration. "I can take the necklace off just fine. It doesn't stop transformations. It protects me from picking up the curse at all. I don't have it."

"But our first time—you got it then? You didn't have—" Demoman's voice wavered, and Sniper could feel the tremble in his jaw that marked the man as holding back tears.

Sniper nodded slowly. "Yeh, but I figured it out pretty quickly, and got it cured."

"There's a cure?"

"If you catch it from someone, and get it handled before the first transformation, it's not permanent and can be removed with a specific potion. Got one from Merasmus. I 'adn't thought about it being sexually transmittable either. I'd thought it was just bites, too. Here I'd thought I'd done enough research. Merasmus took the piss out of me about it, believe me."

"You're not cursed," Demoman fairly whispered. It was more a question than a statement.

"I'm not cursed," Sniper confirmed, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

"But what if you hadn't realized it so soon? What if—"

Sniper pressed a kiss to his lips, cutting him off. "Doesn't matter. I'm not cursed. I'm fine. I'm whole. I'm human. The only permanent change you've made to me is in here," he soothed, taking Demoman's hand and pressing it against his chest, his heart. The bomber choked back a sob and kissed Sniper again, wrapping his arms tightly around the thinner man and holding him as close as he could. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to scare you," Sniper soothed, petting at Demoman's back as he pressed their foreheads together.

"Yer nae cursed."

"I'm not. And I got the necklace so it wouldn't risk happenin' again. So long as I wear it, it's safe."

"So long as ye wear it? Why'd ye ever want tae take it off?"

Sniper shrugged a shoulder. "I don't, but the option is there. Bit romantic, innit? Lettin' you make me somethin' new, choosin' to be changed by someone you love."

"I dinnae find it such a nice thought," Demoman admitted with a sniff, the tide of his emotions beginning to recede.

Sniper smiled a little. "It's fine. It'd be a right pain in the arse for work anyway. Try schedulin' stakeouts 'round that. Time it wrong and you've got a great big wolfman tryin' to 'old a rifle steady."

Demoman laughed softly at the mental image, grateful for distraction. "Now ye ken why I keep a rotatin' schedule o' jobs."

"I just figured you got bored easy."

"Aye, that too. Good thing ye keep me entertained so well," he teased gently, claiming Sniper in another kiss.

Their lips parted, tongues lazily caressing one another as they tangled their legs together and clung tight to one another. Soft breaths puffed between them, the quiet squeaks of the mattress beneath them the only other sounds in the room. Sniper scratched lightly behind Demoman's ear, drawing a small moan from him, which slowly faded into a soft chuckle. It built into a laugh, and the bomber had to pull out of the kiss to try and stifle his giggles.

"What's so funny?" Sniper asked with a smirk.

"I just cannae help but picture what ye'd look like as a werewolf," Demoman explained through snickers.

"Why? Like some sort of mangy dingo or somethin'?" the assassin teased.

"Nae, nae! With those long, scrawny legs o' yers? Ye ever seen a maned wolf?"

"Those ridiculous fox-lookin' things from South America?"

"Aye! All big ears and long, long legs, ganglin' about! Ye'd be the picture of one!" He whooped a laugh at the thought, nearing a cackle as Sniper pouted in reply, utterly put-out at the comparison.

"'least I'd get a fluffy tail out of the deal, I suppose," Sniper harrumphed, trying to hide his own simmering laughs behind a veneer of false offense. "Bloody good thing I'm stayin' 'uman then."

"Aye, I like yer long legs just as they are," Demoman agreed, petting at Sniper's calf with his foot. He captured him in another kiss, cupping the back of his head and sighing happily as Sniper kissed back, the two of them falling into lazy makeouts, wrapped in one another contentedly.

    Sniper wasn't sure how long it had been since they'd settled back into a lazy snuggle, his head on Demoman's shoulder, face slowly nuzzling at his chest, when a thought occurred to him. "What's the date?" "What, today?"

"Yeh."

"Twenty-sixth of March. Why?"

"It's almost a year since our first shag."

Demoman looked down to Sniper. "Y'serious? Already?"

"Yeh. I'd never forget me first time with a werewolf, 'course."

"O' Course." "It was the second of April." "Our anniversary," Demoman chuckled.

"Honestly? It's how I look at it. We might've started datin' in October, but we've been shaggin' since April. Wasn't too long after that night I fell in love with you, even if I was too bloody stupid to say it."

Demoman wrapped his arm tightly around Sniper and squeezed him, a soft sound somewhere between a whimper and a delighted sigh escaping his throat. "That soon?"

"Sooner than I'd wanted to admit to meself at the time, that's for sure," Sniper chuckled.

"Here I'd thought I was the only one pinin' straight away back then." Demoman mused. "Didn't take long to fall hard for ye."

"I can't believe it took us so long and almost dyin' to say anythin'."

"We're both absolute numpties. Stupid as the day is long."

Sniper barked a laugh at that, "Utterly smitten and too scared to say so. Bloody idiots. I still can't believe it."

"I dinnae ken how we put up with us." Demoman snickered at that, pressing a kiss to his lover's forehead.

Shifting a bit, Sniper half-rolled onto his belly again, looking up at Demoman. "Speakin' of the date, we've got furlough comin' up soon."

"Aye, two weeks as promised. Nae a month, but I'll take what I can get."

"We've not any plans, 'ave we?"

Demoman hummed in thought, "Nae, I dinnae think we do. Should probably plan somethin' then." He mulled it over for a moment, turning things over in his mind. A broad, conspiratorial grin crossed his features, and he looked with excitement to his lover. "What's say we run off together, disappear for two weeks and elope?"

Sniper goggled at the suggestion, "Elope? Get married?!"

"Aye!" Demoman laughed, delighted in the utter flabbergasted look on the assassin's face. "Kiddin', but only half-kiddin'," he clarified, his grin softening a bit. "Sneak off, get married, tell not a soul. I'd be game if ye are."

If he was half-kidding, it meant he was half-serious, and Sniper could barely believe his ears. Demoman was passionate above all else, but this was almost too impulsive even for him! It made his chest flutter in a way a year ago he would have assumed was a heart attack. He couldn't deny the appeal, but his mind piped up to fight his emotions, tamp down the giddy energy building in him. His voice cracked as he replied lamely, "Wouldn't the rings be a dead giveaway?"

"So?"

"What about work? Catch a ring on something when you're working bombs? Could deglove your 'ole finger."

"Sod it, no rings. We'll tattoo 'em on. A wee black band on our ring fingers, a permanent mark of a permanent bond." His smile grew back into a grin. He wasn't even sure whether Sniper's protestations were an earnest effort or not, but if he were honest, he wasn't sure if his efforts to convince were truly earnest either. The idea made his heart race in his chest, regardless of whether they actually acted on it, and in the moment he promised himself that if not now, then someday.

Sniper caught Demoman's hand, threading their fingers together. He rubbed at the bomber's ring finger with his, his stomach considering doing a few flips for good measure. "Tattoos. I do like that."

"See?"

Common sense fought for control once again, "We've only been dating six months."

"Ye said yerself ye look at April as our anniversary."

Got him there. Sniper kissed him, smiling against his lips. "What about our families?"

"Mum was askin' about weddin' bells at Smissmas, two official months in," Demoman recalled with a laugh. "She could tell even then."

"You've not met my parents."

"Well let's fix that then! Fine, we'll nae get married this furlough. We dinnae have tae do it now. It was just an idea. But mark my words, Michael Mundy I intend tae make an honest man out o' ye someday," Demoman teased, letting go of Sniper's hand to wag a finger in his face.

"You'll need more than a wedding to make me honest," Sniper laughed.

"Aye but it's a start! So how about ye take me home tae meet yer parents, then? Get their blessin' and all."

"You're serious? You know how my relationship is with them."

"Ye've said yerself yer ma wants tae pet me sweet little ears."

"I don't think she understands how werewolves work."

"Aye, but the necklace can help with that," Demoman reminded him with a chuckle. "But aye, I want tae meet them. Maybe once yer da lays eyes on me he'll stop criticizin' yer career decisions and settle on yer taste in men to complain about."

"Stop that; you're the best decision I ever made," Sniper chastised with a frown.

"Then if yer da don't like that he can sod off."

Sniper chuckled at that. Fair enough. "Sure," he replied, settling back onto the bomber's shoulder. "I'll call them, make arrangements."

"Lovely."

"Tav?"

"Aye?" "That wasn't a 'no', just so you're aware."

Demoman beamed, taking hold of the rangy assassin and tugging him on top of himself to kiss him silly.

[ruinarei]

viego is largely incorporeal until the moment he must take physical form either to slay something or hold something, such as his famed blade. during his bouts of necromancy or soul-taking, he also tends to be perfectly tangible, but until he wills himself into action, he’s largely a ghost, a creature made entirely of the mist in itself.

that said, unless he wants to engage you physically (which, granted, is largely how he fights given his swordsmanship), you can’t do much to him without proper magic.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

heated, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: An (innocent?) conversation about D/s dynamics accidentally leads to you confessing that you think about your childhood best friend while getting off. To your childhood best friend, Jeon Jungkook. Erm. This is after he told you that you would be “an awful sub”, btw.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, discussions about adult topics; reader is bisexual; smut (fem reader, dry humping, fingering, [tiny bit] m-receiving oral, penetrative sex); fluffy af; non-idol!AU; F2L; softdom!Jungkook x softbrat!reader; you kind of have a forearm kink and you never let Jungkook have his lovey-dovey moment, whoops

MMA 2020 ‘ON’ Jungkook? Yeah. That one.

--

“I could never be a sub.”

You clicked rapidly as you spoke, mashing the right button on your mouse. It was quite loud, paired with your mechanical keyboard.

“Why not?”

The music coming from Jeon Jungkook’s smartphone was a rhythm game, nearly as loud as you, since he was grunting angrily at it. It was very obvious when he missed a beat.

“I can’t imagine that being me, you know?”

You, on the other hand, were on your computer, playing with the new items in League of Legends from the latest patch. Using the practice tool, you had loaded up your favorite champion, Jhin, the Virtuoso, and messed with various builds, trying to find the best combination. So far, Lethality was feeling pretty good.

“Like why would I ever let my pleasure be handled by someone else?” you mused, reading the high damage numbers of each shot. Oh, the fourth shot felt nice. “That sounds stupid.”

Jungkook rolled over on your bed, growling in his throat as the level ended. He restarted it, trying to get a better score. “Maybe people like to let go sometimes. You know, not always be in control.”

You snorted. “I could never trust someone else with my body.”

“You got an alien body or something?”

“Shut up, Jungkook.”

“No.”

“Fine.”

“Anyway,” Jungkook continued, ignoring your outburst. “I didn’t ask if you could be a sub, I just asked what you thought of domination and submission as a dynamic in general.”

You shrugged, trying to see if you could do Baron alone. Welp, you needed lifesteal, of course. “I mean, I’ve tried it in various situations. I was never the sub.”

“Kinky.”

“Shut up, Jungkook.”

“No.” Jungkook suddenly sat up, excited that he achieved a higher score. “Look, look. I got ninety-eight.”

You craned your head to look at his phone screen. “Why isn’t it one hundred? You’re a disgrace to this family.”

He bopped you on the nose with his phone. “If I was part of your family, your family would be even more dysfunctional than it is now.”

You rubbed your nose and looked up at him. “How much gel did you use in your hair? You look like a wet dog.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows went up and he touched his long black hair. “It’s not crunchy though.” He grabbed your hand and lowered his head, placing your palm on his slicked back hair. “See?”

You pulled your hand back, staring at your palm. “Still feels weird though. I call sorcery.”

He shrugged, creaking the black leather jacket he was wearing. He wore a black t-shirt under it. The black jeans he had been wearing were on your bed, swapped for the black joggers he kept at your place. You weren’t really sure why he left the jacket on. Maybe he was cold or something. It was pretty cold in your apartment. You were wearing fleece green pajamas with Pikachu all over them.

“You want me to turn the heat up?” you said, gesturing to his jacket.

Jungkook looked down at his chest. “Eh. It’s fine. Saves you money.”

You shrugged, getting up from your chair, leaving the League client open. “You’re only staying a little while, right? Party to go to and all that?”

Jungkook followed you as you left your room. “Told you it was cancelled, so I was just going to sleep over. No reason to go back home.”

You turned around, walking backwards. “When did you say it was cancelled?”

Jungkook raised his dark eyebrows. “Literally when I walked in your apartment.”

“Hah.”

You turned back around and went to your fridge, grabbing an aloe juice. Jungkook went to your water kettle, hunting for hot chocolate among your tea packets.

“You’d make an awful sub anyway,” Jungkook said, returning to the original subject as he filled the kettle with water from your filtered sink faucet. “Like, probably the fucking worst.”

You took a large swig and glared at him. “Alright, first of all, you wouldn’t even–”

“You’re terrible with authority.”

You paused. “Okay, true.”

“You’re angry, twenty-four, seven.”

You walked up to him and slapped him in his very hard pecs. He gestured at his chest, as if to indicate, exhibit A.

“And you’re super uptight.”

“I am not uptight.”

“Control freak.”

“That’s–”

Jungkook turned around and placed the kettle on its stand. You swooped in with a Pikachu-themed kitchen towel and wiped the excess water away, scowling. Jungkook raised his eyebrows at you, brown eyes laughing.

“That’s literally a safety hazard!” you exclaimed, waving the towel at him.

Jungkook rolled his eyes and pressed the button to start heating the water. “Haven’t you ever just… not freaked out over every little thing? Done something spontaneous and stupid?”

You placed the kitchen towel back in its proper place. “No, because that would be spontaneous and stupid, Jeon Jungkook.”

He leaned against the counter, watching you perfectly fold the towel into three parts and hang it on the rail. He scratched his nose, shaking his head. “You should be more like me.”

“Having the police called on you because you were standing on a lawn chair tooting a party horn at four in the morning?”

“That was one time! Stop bringing it up,” Jungkook groaned.

You raised your hands in innocence. “Well, I was the one called to pick you up because you literally couldn’t remember any other number and I was very disturbed on New Year’s Eve, where I should have been peacefully sleeping and not hauling your drunk ass across town.”

Jungkook sighed exaggeratedly. “I’m sorry, okay? I won’t drink that much again. Jimin made me do shots–”

“You always blame Park Jimin,” you interjected, smiling. “Jimin’s the kind of guy who only wears clothes to take them off.”

“Well, it gets him laid, so I guess it’s working.”

The kettle whistled noisily, cutting through the conversation. You took a sip from your aloe juice as Jungkook grabbed a mug from your cupboard and poured the hot chocolate powder into it.

“You want some milk?”

He looked up. “You have milk?”

You went to the fridge and took out a small carton. “Because you said you were coming.”

“Aw, what a sweetie.”

“Shut up, Jungkook.”

“No.”

That’s how it was with you two. Growing up together was the same conversation over and over of you constantly saying shut up and Jungkook always replying with no. If both your dads hadn’t been such good friends, you probably wouldn’t have been able to tolerate him. Since they were, you were forced to, which turned out to be okay, since it turned out you had similar interests in games and such. It drifted apart a bit when you two entered high school, but you two reconnected once university started.

The dysfunctionality Jungkook was referring to was your two older sisters, who both got pregnant out of wedlock and thus caused a lot of tension between them, your parents, and you, the one who hadn’t actually done that yet. And you were trying to keep it that way.

Jungkook poured half-water and half-milk, stirring it with a silver spoon he found in your drawer. You lived alone, having gotten a full scholarship to be able to pay for tuition, meals, and part of a small apartment. Your parents paid for the rest – another point of strain between you and your sisters. That’s why you kept your grades up and rarely went out.

“When was the last time you fucked a guy?”

You sucked the inside of your cheek. “Dunno. Maybe two years ago.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows and took a long sip. “So, only girls, huh?”

You tilted your head and sighed. “They don’t get you pregnant.”

“Neither does a condom.”

“That’s a ninety-eight percent chance, not one hundred.”

He licked the excess off his pink lips. He looked like he wanted to say something, but reconsidered, taking another sip before replying. “You don’t miss dick?”

“I mean, a dildo is a dick.”

Jungkook nearly spat out his hot chocolate. You snatched your Pikachu towel again and threatened him with it. He raised a hand, coughing.

“A dildo is not a dick,” he hacked out. “You insult me.”

“Hmph.” You turned back around and placed the Pikachu towel back in its place, making sure the graphic was perfectly centered.

“You tell your parents?”

You narrowed your eyes. ‘Why the fuck would I tell my parents that I fuck girls instead of guys to avoid getting pregnant?”

He shrugged. “Give them peace of mind?”

“You think too highly of the generation before us.”

Jungkook gave you a weird look. “So… you’re just using them?”

“No.” You paused. “Okay, maybe a little, but it’s not because they’re girls. I guess I haven’t found someone who understands me yet.”

He took a long, noisy sip of hot chocolate. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“No one can understand you if you only fuck once and drop them.”

“Wouldn’t you fucking know,” you replied irritably.

“Now, I fuck multiple times before I realize it’s not going to work out,” Jungkook countered.

You shoved your bottle of aloe juice back into your fridge. Suddenly, you weren’t thirsty anymore.

“Is that the only reason?”

You closed the fridge door.

“Reason for what?”

“Is fear of pregnancy the only reason you fuck girls?”

“I don’t know!” you shouted, throwing your hands up. You spun around, blowing hot air. “I don’t fucking know why I do it, Jungkook. I don’t know why I load up dating apps to only hook up with girls, I don’t know why I don’t try to get into relationships with them, I don’t know what is wrong with me and why I can’t give anyone a chance and I don’t know why you pop up in my head every time I try to fucking masturbate! It is annoying and I do not like it, so I try to get off with someone else!”

Your chest was heaving with exertion and annoyance, hand curled onto a fist and planted on your kitchen counter, glaring at the space past Jungkook’s head, muscle twitching in your cheek. Your heart was beating so fast it didn’t feel real.

Silence.

“Fuck you, Jungkook.”

And then you turned around, stalking back to your bedroom.

Or would have, if you didn’t hear the clink of the mug touching the kitchen counter and Jungkook grabbing your upper arm, yanking you back, slamming you against his muscular body. You hissed, staring into his chest.

“Let me go.”

“Hold on a second.” You watched Jungkook take a deep breath, his toned, tan skin rising and falling. The silver necklace on his collarbones flashed as he breathed. “Just hold on a damn second.”

Your eyes were on the low neckline of his black shirt. It felt weird being close to him. Not that you two haven’t been physically close, because you had. But it had never been like this. Since you realized he wouldn’t leave your mind every time you tried to masturbate. Since you started looking to other people to push him out. Since you were sure that it was not just a passing thought, not just your brain playing tricks on you. And being this close to him now, you understood.

And it scared you.

“You cannot dump all that on me and expect me not to react,” Jungkook said quietly.

“Shut up, Jungkook.”

“No,” he snapped. He grabbed both your upper arms and shook you violently, making you jerk your head up to blink at him. Jungkook furrowed his brows, his dark eyes glaring at you, jaw clenched tightly. “I will not shut up. Why should I shut up? I should shut you up.”

And then he kissed you.

Your eyes widened. Jungkook’s pink lips were on you. You. On your lips, pressed firmly against them, gripping you so tight you were losing feeling in your arms. You tore back, stumbling, touching your lips, shoulders shaking, not sure why your heart was beating out of your chest, not sure why your lips tingled and wanted more, not sure why Jungkook slowly opening his eyes and flickering to you made your knees knock together uncomfortably.

“What are you doing?” you sputtered. “You don’t even… what…?”

“I’m kissing you,” he growled, walking up to you and pinning you against the counter. “I’m fucking kissing you because you want me to.”

“I don’t…”

“Just shut up, please.”

And then Jungkook kissed you again, harder this time, pressing you against the kitchen counter, hands coming up and taking you by the waist, pulling you to him and his leather jacket, him and his black shirt, breathing your name into your lips, your hands grabbing his t-shirt and yanking him to you, gasping into his mouth. And you wanted to say, no, no, you weren’t supposed to know, but it was too late because you were shoving his leather jacket off, grasping his shoulders, fingers pressing into his hard muscles, sliding down his biceps.

You yanked your head back and his hand came up to grab it back, kissing you more, more, tongue licking your lips, hissing your name, grinding his hips against yours. Your hand came up in between you two, stopping him, stopping him and his insatiable lips.

“You have to s-say–” You moaned, feeling him harden against your fleece pajamas. “You have to say it.”

“Say what?” Jungkook muttered impatiently, kissing your hand, speaking into your palm.

“Say you’re okay with it,” you gritted out as he rolled his crotch into yours.

“Obviously I’m okay with it,” he grumbled. “Why else am I humping you in your kitchen?”

“You said I’m a c-control freak,” you groaned, throwing your head back as Jungkook slid his hands down to your ass and squeezed it, grinding against you.

“You are,” he grunted. “You can’t let go, you can’t enjoy yourself, you can’t even tell me you like me so I can fucking fuck you already, instead of me cancelling my parties so I can spend time laying on your bed and staring at you playing video games wondering when you’re going to fucking notice that I want to bang you.”

“What?” you replied breathlessly.

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “You’re so busy controlling your own life that you don’t even notice the people around you anymore.”

“What?” you repeated again as Jungkook hoisted you up by your ass and began to walk, forcing you to grab him by the shoulders and stare down his right arm, the fully tattooed one with flowers and script and the tiny circle with angry slits for eyes and a frown on the inside of his elbow, the one Jungkook said was for you and you had slapped him in the chest and told him to shut up.

“Let me take over for once,” he mumbled, placing his chin on your shoulder and nudging you with his head and his non-crispy but still not quite soft dark hair.

“You said I would be an awful sub.”

Jungkook dumped you on the bed, shooing you upwards. You didn’t move, frowning at him. He sighed dramatically.

“You would. You are,” he corrected, planting a hand on your chest and pushing you down, bouncing you against your Pikachu bedsheets. He sandwiched your arms at your sides and straddled your torso. The bed bowed far too low and you almost slid off. Hurriedly, you scooted upwards and Jungkook followed, unbothered.

“You said I’m terrible with authority.”

Jungkook wrestled your arms back down and pinned them with his strong thighs. “You are.”

“You said I’m angry, twenty-four, seven.”

He cocked his head, slowly unbuttoning your pajama shirt. “Still true.”

“And you said I’m uptight,” you added ruefully, pouting.

Jungkook shrugged, reaching in between his legs to unbutton he last few ones. “I’ll fuck it out of you.”

“Jungkook!”

“What?”

He paused, towering above you, eyebrow raised. His black hair curled around his ears, against his silver hoops and base of his neck. His dark eyes pierced down at you, tiny mole under his lips clearly visible from this position. You could see the bottom of his sharp chin, the black t-shirt clinging to his chest, the shape of his tan arms, one tattooed, one not, from below.

“Y-you’re pinching my right arm…”

Jungkook looked down, moving his left leg. “Sorry.”

You winced, pulling out your left arm to rub the other. He tapped your forearm impatiently with his finger.

“You’re ruining the moment,” he scolded.

“You ruined it by bruising me,” you shot back, backing up to your pillows on your elbows, grimacing as you soothed your arm.

“I’m going to bruise you more if you keep being a little brat,” Jungkook growled, following you on hands and knees, the neckline of his t-shirt hanging down, revealing way too much of his skin. Your eyes widened and you slipped, a white plush Poro bonking you in the head. He grabbed it and tossed it aside, the poor guy rolling on the floor.

“That’s very rude,” you muttered, but he was over your body now, breathing hard, staring down your now open shirt and the curve of your breasts into your black bra.

“Why do you get hotter every year?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I… don’t?”

Jungkook shoved the sides of your pajama shirt apart impatiently, reaching under your back and pinching the bra clasp, undoing it with one hand.

“Yes, you do,” he exhaled hotly. “Every year you get prettier and prettier and it pisses me off so much that I have to work out to look half as good as you.”

You felt your ears and cheeks get hot. “Well… you do look very, erm, good.”

“You’re very convincing,” Jungkook chuckled darkly, pushing your bra up and sucking in his lower lip as he revealed your hard, quivering nipples.

Your eyes shifted away from his hungry eyes. “I, uh… am very wet.”

A single, perfectly shaped eyebrow ticked. “Show me.”

“Um…”

He lifted himself off you, pointing down.

“Show me,” Jungkook commanded.

You tried to move your arms and found them tangled in your clothes. You frowned and shrugged out of your pajama shirt, chucking it and your bra aside, before gripping the waistband of your green fleece pants. You hesitated and looked back at Jungkook, who just flapped his hand downwards, giving you a neutral expression.

You puffed your cheeks and raised your hips, yanking your pants and panties down your thighs. You had to bend your legs a bit to fully take them off since Jungkook’s knees were on the outside of your thighs.

Now you were fully naked in front of your childhood best friend. And he was still fully clothed.

“Er, aren’t you going to–”

Jungkook cut you off. “You still haven’t shown me.”

You blinked at him. “What do you want me to do, become a fucking pretzel?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Any way you can prove to me you’re wet.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Fucking…” You bent your right leg and slid it up between his thighs, brushing against his sweatpants and feeling his hard-on for a hot second before you jammed your leg into your chest and lifted it out, pressing your thigh against your torso and raising your calf into the air. You turned your head to the left, letting out an exasperated huff.

“There. You see it?”

Shit, this position was embarrassing for some reason. You could feel cold air on your dripping pussy. Maybe he couldn’t see or something. You lifted your right arm to wrap around your thigh, pressing it down against your breasts since Jungkook wasn’t saying anything.

“That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Jungkook breathed.

“Okay, going to put my leg do–”

You gasped, suddenly feeling Jungkook’s fingertips touch your heated core, smearing your juices around the lips, his hot breath against your ear as he touched you. You shuddered as he stroked your folds, your name on his lips, his lips kissing your ear.

“Had to touch you,” he whispered against your neck, tone desperate. “I’m sorry, I just had to touch that beautiful pussy, all wet and slopping for me.”

Your eyelids fluttered as his middle finger found your clit, pressing on it. “J-Jungkook… That’s my…”

He chuckled deep in his throat. “Yeah? That’s your what?”

Slow, lazy circles, pushing it around, moan leaving your lips. “My c-clit…”

“Want me to touch it?” Jungkook purred. “Want me to handle your pleasure?”

But he as already touching it, nursing the sensitive bundle of nerves and rousing your lust, igniting it and setting it on fire.

“Y-yes…”

He kissed down your neck, whispering softly, licking your collarbones. “You trust me? You trust me with this pretty, perfect, hot, sexy, fuckable body?”

You arched your neck, giving him more access as he ran his pink lips all over, rubbing your clit, mouth on your throat. Your whole body shook, hips rolling into his finger.

“Y-yes…”

His breath so electrifying that you could barely focus, barely speak as Jungkook’s other hand came up behind your head, long fingers burying into your hair, holding tight, so tight it almost hurt, teeth nipping at your skin.

“Want to mark you,” he mumbled. “Want to give you a big fat hickey you can’t explain, want to bruise you so bad you’ll be staring at it for weeks, thinking about my lips on you, remembering my teeth gave you that.”

He pressed another finger to your clit, increasing the pace, and all you could do was hiss out a yes, a burning yes, a pleading yes, please, Jungkook, whining as his teeth sank into the spot where your shoulder and neck connected, sucking hard, his tongue licking away the prickling pain. His hips rolled into your thigh, his hard cock pressing against you, straining against his pants.

Jungkook moaned into your skin, so hot, so intense, rubbing your aching clit faster, harder, more urgently. Sucking and humping your leg as the feeling of his teeth and his fingers overwhelmed you, one hand clutching his shirt and one hand curled into your sheets as your thighs shook, trying to close but unable to because Jungkook was so strong, so there, so overpowering that you could only lay there and take it, take it as his name poured out of you in a breathless wail, throwing your head back as you felt your pussy clench around nothing, your juices becoming slicker, thicker, the scent of your orgasm staining the air.

He shoved the two fingers inside you and unlatched his mouth, moaning with you as he felt you squeeze his fingers, pumping you in long, slow strokes, all the way to his knuckles. You whimpered, tightening your core and Jungkook moaned again, eyes closed, his hair in disarray as you fucked his hand, clamping your hands on his right forearm, gasping at the feel of his muscle. Pussy throbbing around his fingers, hips meeting his knuckles over and over.

His eyes opened, watching your fuck yourself with his hand, an almost bored expression on his features, but you didn’t care because you felt him flex his fingers and his arm, telling you to continue, telling you he liked it.

“I thought you were going to let me do it.” Jungkook’s voice was low, trying to stay even despite his shallow breathing. “Have to control everything, don’t you?”

You caught your lower lip in your teeth, eyes moving to his face, his handsome, angular face with his black hair curled around his forehead and his cocked eyebrow, smirk on his lips.

“I’m not in control,” you panted. “Your forearm is…”

Jungkook flexed it under your hand and you moaned pathetically, breath hitching.

His smirk grew wider.

“It’s getting you off touching it.”

You swallowed, close, so close and Jungkook was taunting you and for some reason you couldn’t tell him to shut up, because he kept tensing his arm and it was so fucking hot that you really were going to orgasm.

“Say it,” he purred, breathing your name. “Tell me you like my forearm.”

Your eyes shifted down to his arm in your hands, the tiny angry face tattoo in his inner elbow frowning at you.

“I fucking love it, Jungkook,” you gasped. “Fuck, I love your delicious, sexy-as-fuck forearms.”

He grinned and began to thrust his fingers into you, fast, so fast you couldn’t even fathom how he could be that fast like a fucking vibrator, sending torrents of pleasure through you and his arm was so hard and his skin so soft that your eyes rolled back into your head, moaning his name far too loud. Jungkook placed a hand over your mouth and you screamed into it, liquid gushing down your thighs, but he didn’t stop, he kept going until you felt it again, pussy throbbing, back-to-back, eyelids fluttering, nails digging into his arm as the crescendo slammed into you, taking your breath and senses away, lost only in the feeling of Jungkook’s secure presence above you.

He slowed, breathing hard. Gently, carefully pulling his fingers out of your pulsating pussy, gasping as he removed his hand. You vaguely heard Jungkook place his fingers in his mouth, sighing wantonly at your taste.

“You taste so good,” he whispered around his fingers. “Fuck, so sweet and thick and delicious.”

Your brain could not compute what the fuck was happening. Did Jungkook just give you three mind-blowing orgasms in a row after you exploded at him and admitted to thinking about him while masturbating?

Holy shit.

He pressed his face into your hair, inhaling your scent.

You swallowed thickly.

“Jungkook, do you, ah… want something too?” you asked quietly.

You heard him snicker. “If I take my clothes off, I’m going to want to put my dick in you.”

“… I’m cool with that.”

“I thought a dildo was the same as a dick?”

You cleared your throat. “Ah… Well, I didn’t think you’d want to put a dick in me.”

Jungkook laughed. “If I had five dicks, I’d put them all in you.”

“Erm… mathematically speaking, that doesn’t really work…”

“Shut up.”

Jungkook sat up, looking down at you with a smile. The same smile he always had, but a little different now, because he didn’t have to hide his attraction to you anymore.

“You really let me put it in you?”

You narrowed your eyes. “With a ninety-eight percent chance, only.”

His smile became mischievous. “That’s not one hundred percent.”

You puffed your cheeks.

“I’ll take the two percent chance for you and only you, Jungkook.”

He grinned and turned around, throwing himself to the end of the bed where his jeans were barely holding on. Fishing through the pockets, retrieving the foil packet from the back pocket. You blinked at him.

“How long has that been–”

Jungkook gave you a silencing look. “I bring a new one every time I come over, in hopes you become drunk enough to sit on my dick.”

You blinked at him. “What.” Not a question, just you stating it.

“Because you’re paranoid.”

You frowned. “I’m not–”

He launched himself over the bed and silenced you with a kiss, deep and longing. You leaned into it, breathing softly, tongue against his, pressing back against him. Jungkook drew back slowly, thumb on your cheek. Eyes looking into yours, careful and tender.

“I don’t want you to worry,” he said against your lips. “I’ll do anything you want. I know it’s not easy for you. I know you’re not ready for the million babies I want from you.”

“I can’t have a million babies. It’s not scientifically possible,” you interjected.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. “Can you just let me have one romantic moment?”

“Erm, sorry.”

“You want me to have a damn vasectomy or something? Because I’ll fucking do it. That shit’s reversible.”

“No, that kind of requires more time and I’m pretty horny for your dick right now. Condom will do.”

He sighed, rolling his eyes. “You are a shitty sub.”

“I will do better after I’ve had the dick.”

Jungkook straightened and yanked his black t-shirt over his head. “No, you won’t.”

Your eyes roamed over his toned chest. Damn, he was ripped. Maybe he was insecure about you being hot or something, but you were certainly benefiting. “You never know?”

Jungkook sent you a pained look and pressed a hand to your chest, shoving you back into your bed. “I’ve known you way too long to believe those words coming out of your mouth.”

You were going to reply, but he ran his hand over your chest, inhaling sharply as he brushed against your nipples. He ran his fingers over them, squeezing a little. You whined, trying to get more, but Jungkook pressed his palm down on your breast, breathing hard.

“Listen, woman, I’m about to explode in my damn underwear. Stop sounding so sexy this instant.”

Your eyes found his, pupils blown wide, lips pursed, and jaw tight. Your lips parted a little, tongue peeking out, a soft moan of his name emitting from your throat. You saw a muscle in his eyebrow twitch. He looked like he wanted to throttle you, at least a little bit.

You grinned.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes.

“You are lucky you’re cute,” he muttered. “And lucky I want to be in this pussy more than I want to be alive.”

“Don’t you ne–”

Jungkook planted his hand on your mouth. “The only words I want to hear out of you are, “Fuck me harder” or my own name, you got that?” he snarled, pressing his hand into your face for emphasis.

You nodded quickly.

He sighed, almost in relief, and yanked his pants and underwear down, wincing. There was a large wet spot on his boxer briefs, strings of pre-cum clinging as he pushed it down his muscular thighs.

“You made me a giant mess,” he muttered, eyes flickering up to you. “What do you have to say?”

You blinked at him and gave him a thumbs up.

He grinned. “You do know how to listen.”

In truth, you couldn’t say anything because you were breathlessly staring at Jungkook’s thick cock, red head glistening with pre-cum, dripping everywhere. You slid down quickly, startling him, and wrapped your lips around the head, moaning as his strong taste invaded your mouth. He hissed, gritting his teeth as your tongue swiped around, licking his length all over, feeling the veins and contours, memorizing them.

“F-fuck,” he gasped. “You wanted to clean me up that bad?”

Your eyes traveled up his abs, his pecs, his neck, to his face, giving him your best imploring look. He smirked, placing a hand on your forehead, and gradually, with great effort, pulled out of your tight mouth. Tight because you sucked in your cheeks, not wanting to let him go, but Jungkook was stronger than you. You frowned, but he shooed you away.

“I allowed it this one time. Now back to your spot.”

You backed up, tsking as you watched him roll down the condom, groaning as it covered him.

“I’m actually glad I have this fucking condom,” Jungkook muttered, glaring at you.

You couldn’t say anything, so you spread your legs. His eyes dropped down and he bit his lower lip, crawling to you, grabbing your thighs. Placing himself right in front of your soaked entrance, staring down at your pussy as he guided himself, sinking into you.

“Holy fuck,” he gasped, squeezing his eyes shut.

You moaned, feeling Jungkook’s cock stretch you out, so different from a silicone dildo or multiple fingers, because it was Jeon Jungkook praying for air as you clenched around his length, his cries of pleasure as he rocked his hips into you. Those long nights with your vibrator and his Instagram open on your phone were incomparable to his cock molding to your walls, his hard hips finally hitting your thighs, all the way in, and it was so good that you throbbed around him, shuddering.

“J-Jungkook…” you pleaded.

“I know,” he panted, hands gripping your knees tight. “I know, but give me a second to appreciate this pussy, holy fuck.”

He jerked his cock inside you and you cried out, definitely crushing your sheets, but Pikachu had seen a lot by now and there was only going to be more.

Jungkook finally began to slide out and push back in, groaning, starting slow and deep because quite frankly he needed to last more than five seconds and your pussy was not letting up. You had too much control over your vaginal muscles and he was too into you to not be hugely turned on by it, shoving your legs up higher so he could go deeper, feel more of you surround him and massage his length.

“H-harder…” you whimpered. “Please, Jungkook, fuck me harder…”

And how could Jungkook say no to that? Begging so perfectly, with just the right amount of desperation, and you didn’t even know it was driving him insane, because he knew normally you were so wound up, always worrying about being perfect, always worrying about doing the right thing, but now you were unraveling on his cock as he bent down and put more force into it, pounded you harder, watching the ecstasy in your eyes, your mouth opening and tongue peeking out, hot breath in his face. Knuckles white as you clutched the sheets, pleasure radiating up his length as you came with a cry, his name, his name on those perfect lips, lips he always watched with envy, wondering who had them, wondering who was so lucky to capture them.

And now it was just him, just him and you, and his hips slapping into your hips, pussy nearly choking his cock, but it felt so good, so fucking euphoric as you fucked him back, raising your hips to meet his, loud, wet, and lewd, probably causing a ruckus next door. But neither of you cared, your names mixing together, your eyes staring to Jungkook’s piercing brown ones, hot pleasure radiating up your stomach, your chest, to your head and there was no one else.

No one else but Jungkook’s name tumbling out of your mouth as the wave soared into you, pussy spasming as you came again, unsure at what number it was, but it was the one Jungkook wasn’t prepared for and he groaned, smacking into you one last time before you felt his cock throb and pulse against your walls, spilling into the condom. You gasped at the feeling, clenching around him, his right hand reaching over to grasp yours and hold it tightly, intertwining your fingers.

“W-wow…” you whispered breathlessly. “Nice cock.”

Jungkook burst out laughing. “You’re unbelievable.” He reached down and gingerly felt around in your dripping folds, finding the end of the condom and pulling out carefully.

“Fuck. It’s so much,” he gulped, brows knitted in worry.

You waved a hand. “It’s fine. I finished my period yesterday. Likelihood of you getting me pregnant is pretty low.”

Jungkook jerked his head towards you.

“Why the fuck didn’t you say that sooner?” he roared, slapping your leg. “I was scared shitless over here!”

You placed your hands over your ears. “So loud. Shut up, Jungkook.”

“No!”

--

masterpost

[lo-55]

Shattered Chains of Fate Ch. 17

Delicious Fried Garbage

 When Ichigo barges into the shop without so much as a by-your-leave Urahara is in one of the backrooms, working on a janky looking computer. Ichigo had seen some fucked up attempts at electronics before, during his time travel escapades, but this was another level entirely. He actually looked like it had an eye sticking out of the wires snaking around it.

 Ichigo stares at him. When Urahara looks up it takes him a second to get his smile properly in place and his fan in hand.      That    mask is getting a bit old.

 “Ichigo! To what do I owe the pleasure? And you’ve brought friends?”

 It’s true. Medusa and Achilles had met them outside the school when he and Shinji had gone marching about. Cu was investigating the ley lines around the town. Waver hadn’t been wrong, there was something weird going on with them, and he was the only decent mage amongst their group. The other three of them were fighters, plain and simple.

 “This one,” Ichigo grabs Hirako by his tie and hanks himself forwards for Urahara to see. “Is your fault. So we’re using your basement.”

 “That’s a rude way to ask,” Urahara huffed at him. Ichigo pins him with a glare.

 “I’m not asking,” he said frankly. Ichigo drags Hirako past Urahara and his horror computer to the trap door he knows is in the room just beyond. Hirako hops after him, but he still manages to look nonchalant about it.

 Ichigo tosses him down the ladder, abandons his body in the safety of the ground above, and hops after him, with his servants in tow. All three of them land as gracefully as Hirako did, with Ichigo now in his dark shihakusho. A few moments later Urahara drops down after them as well. He held his hat to his head to keep it from flying off.

 While Medusa and Achilles found a couple of rocks to lounge on and watch from Ichigo and Hirako make their way away from them so they don’t get caught in the crossfires. Not that it would matter for Achilles. His shield was almost as good as Mash’s.

 “Okay,” Ichigo runs his fingers through his hair and gathers half of it into a pony tail at the back of his head, so it’s out of his way. ‘      How do you wanna do this, Nieve?’    

 Medusa looks at him with a frown. ‘      Who…?’  

     ‘Just don’t go fightin’ me okay? It won’t be so different from other fights. We’ll just be closer this time.’  

 Ichigo winces at the wide-eyed look Achilles and Medusa were giving him. He’d forgotten to tell them about his new ‘friends’. Whoops.

 Ichigo eyes Hirako warily. He touches his forehead, the way Hirako had before. He thinks of Nieve. He thinks of the driving force behind his blows. Desperation and vicious need. He thinks of the sting in his chest and the shadows. Phantom hands pushing his body to get out of the way. Protection. Survival. The steel of a sword in his hand.

 Ichigo claws across his face in a move that feels almost natural.

 For one dizzying second the whole world warps and twists. Everything is sharper and clearer. He tastes the energy in the air. Snakes and chains. Armor and blood. Shadows and thread.

 Ichigo didn’t know you could taste a kaleidoscope, but that’s what Hirako’s soul reminds him of.

 “      Huh.”  

 Ichigo blinks at Hirako. There’s something pointy just up over Ichigo’s sight. Horns? Is he some kind of bull?

     I should summon Asterios next,    he mused.      We can match.  

 Ichigo lifts Zangetsu up to block a blow from Hirako. Their blades sing with the sound of battle. Ichigo can feel Zangetsu’s laughter in his soul, and his own smile is hidden from view by the mask on his face. It’s smooth bone.

 Ichigo pushes him back harshly. He ends up throwing Hirako further away than he’d expected. It’s not just his senses that are heightened. His strength was increased too, and when he launched himself after Hirako he realized his speed was to.

 He realized it because he almost smashed face first into a boulder trying to get around Hirako and hit him from the back. Fortunately the rock broke before his new horns and he was able to skid around and swing at Hirako again.

 They felt like one. Him and Zangetsu, together. Sword and weilder. It was more than a metaphorical ‘the sword is an extension of your arm’. Zangetsu really was an extension of himself. Longer reach, harder hits, faster moves and dirty tricks.

 They wanted to      win.  

 Hirako fired a kido spell at him and Ichigo sliced through it with his Getsuga Tenshou, one the gauged a crater into the earth beneath them. Ichigo shot himself after the attack and swung hard at Hirako from above. He caught Zangetsu at the crossguard of his own katana, but he wasn’t expecting it when Ichigo came in from the right with a sharp, short blade he’d kept tucked in his sleeve.

 It gleamed white and blue, to Zangetsu’s black. Or Nieve’s black. He was going to have to figure that out eventually.

 Hirako is forced into a retreat, with Ichigo hot on his heels. He dons his pharoah mask, and the tides turn equal. Each hit it hard enough to send shock waves through Ichigo’s arms, and with each hit and near scratch does Ichigo grow stronger and faster.

 He feels perfectly balanced for the first time in a long time.

 A blade in each hand, and a mask on his face. He almost laughs before the clarity of the world snaps around him. He lurches and manages to knock Hirako’s guard aside with Zangetsu before he comes in with the shorter blade again.

 “Stop!” Hirako shouts suddenly.

 Ichigo freezes, his eyes wide.

 Something gives way. The mask cracks and evaporates in the time it takes him to blink.

 It takes Ichigo’s strength with it. He collapses on the ground, his chest heaving and his legs feeling like jelly.

 “What… the… fuck…?” he asks between frantically gulping air.

     ‘Ran outta steam, partner.’  

 Fuck. So he had a time table for this power? Damn it.

 He looks up to see Hirako pulling his mask off and letting it dissolve into thin air. There’s somethin unreadable in his eyes.

 “Ya actually stopped.”

 Ichigo grunts up at him with a scowl.

 “Ya weren’t outta control. If ya were, ya woulda kept goin’ till I was dead. Or you were. ”

 Ichigo snorts at him. “You aren’t that…. Annoying, Hirako.”

 “Some might disagree,” he crouches in front of Ichigo. “I still wanna know somethin’. How’d ya manage to do all that on yer own? You lasted a whole minute and a half. Where were ya trainin’? And with who?”

 “Nowhere and with no one,” Ichigo grouses at him. He’s exhausted, but with a slow breath he starts to calm enough that he can function again. “I’ve never done that before.”

 “What?! Then why’ve ya been insistin’ ya don’t need help?”

 “Because I don’t! I talked it over with Zangetsu and we’re fine.”

 “Ya just… talked,” Hirako says slowly. He looks at Ichigo like he’s grown a second head.

 “Is there a fucking echo in here? Yeah, I talked. Why?”

 “Because that’s impossible!” Hirako reached to grab Ichigo by his shoulders but froze when he flinched back instinctively. He frowned. “I’m not gonna hit ya. We’re done fightin’ for now.”

 “I know,” Ichigo scowls at him. In the time it took the words to get out Achilles had crossed the ground between them and landed at his side, a flicker of green lightning around his heels.

 “That’s enough,” he said firmly. It was strange to hear from the normally laid back servant. Achilles arm wraps around Ichigo’s shoulders and lifts him carefully off the ground. Once, Ichigo would have shoved him off and insisted he could stand by his own merit. But Achilles was with him for the hardest fights of his life. Camelot, Babylonia, Solomon. They stormed the hanging gardens together.

 He lets Achilles support his weight and stand him on his own two feet. He’ll be fine in a bit, once he’s eaten and maybe caught a cat nap.

 “We’ll be taking him home, now,” Achilles says firmly. He shoots at look at Medusa, who’s left Urahara to travel over to them. This Medusa is a Lancer, not a rider, or she might have kept speed with him.

 Or not.

 Achilles is in a league of his own, as Ichigo well knows. A rank servants are like that. They’re also incurably insane.

 “Now hold on. I got questions for Ichigo-”

 Hirako’s reach for Ichigo is cut short by a sudden lashing of chains between the pair of them. Hirako is just fast enough to keep himself from loosing a hand to them. Ichigo shoot a look at Medusa over his shoulder.

 “Was that necessary?” he asks dryly. She sniffs at him.

 “You’ve just used a substantial amount of energy. You should be resting, not dealing with fools who think you a liar or malcontents who hide the truth.”

 Her last comment is accompanied by a glare over her shoulder towards Urahara, who is watching them with shadowed eyes. They’re sharp in that darkness, and all too aware. Ichigo can see him piecing things together.

 “Rider,” he says, “Let’s go already. We have things to do.”

 Achilles agrees, and Medusa lets her chains slither back into her hair before following after them. Her boots click with each step.

 Ichigo had decided, a long time ago, that Achilles’ name would be spoken aloud only in private. He had too well known a weakness to be exploited. Everyone knew who he was, everyone knew about his tendon.

 Medusa was a bit less well known, and she didn’t rely wholly on her eyes either. As long as they stayed vigilant of mirrors and shields, everything would be fine.

 The pair escorts him up the ladder while the two supernatural beings watch.

 Ichigo really needs to stop hanging out with dead people.

 There’s a car sitting outside the shop when they get out. It’s a bright orange Nissan Note, and Cu is sitting in the front seat.

 “...Did he get a rider classification while I wasn’t looking?” Ichigo asks wearily.

 “Nope,” Medusa says with far too much cheer. Ichigo takes the front seat, while Cu and Medusa slide into the back and Achilles slides into the drivers seat.

 Ichigo buckles in quickly. He does not like the gleam in Achilles eyes when he grips the wheel and turns the key.

 *

 Ichigo watched the fog curl unnaturally outside the window.

 Even though he’d heard London called the city of fog before, seeing it up close and personal was another thing entirely. Mash and Mordred were upstairs, doing something with their new guest. Mordred had said there was something she wanted to discuss with Mash, as ‘fellow knights’, and whisked her away to one of the rooms Jekyll kept, along with a new companion.  

 He had a comfortable house, spacious and wealthy, but Jekyll himself was a fairly practical man. Most of the house was dedicated to his work. Lab equipment, mostly, but books lined almost every spare surface. Novels, non fiction, history.

 Ichigo still needed to stop fighting sometimes. To recharge his batteries, even if he was only supporting Mash, he coudln’t power through this singularity the way he had before. This was a more delicate operation, with more mystery around it than Ichigo could stomach.

 He liked knowing who he was fighting, thanks.

 In their down town, of which they had far too much and far too little, Ichigo had taken to picking through Jekyll’s books.

 He’d read Shakespeare a’plenty, and a few works by Lord Byron, but here Jekyll had books Ichigo had never even heard of. For all he knew a hundred and a half years in the future they wouldn't even exist anymore.

 He did know that when he got back he was going to try to find a copy of the Mill on the Floss. And he was going to have to see if Jekyll had any copies of Thomas A Kempis, so he could make more sense of all of it.

 He was puzzling over Maggie’s spiritual upheaval when a scuff on the floor had him looking up and over.

 Jekyll did that on purpose, Ichigo found. He had made the mistake of sneaking up on Ichigo once, and ended up with a black eye for his troubles that was still fading. In his hands was something that smelled suspiciously like tea. It steamed faintly across the rim of the cup.

 “Jekyll,” Ichigo greeted. The doctor offered him a smile and came closer. Ichigo slid a scrap of paper between his pages and set it aside so he could accept the cut when it was handed to him.

 Ichigo had never considered himself an academic, and compared to Mash and Jekyll he definitely wasn’t, but he was starting to enjoy the more mundane aspects of living. Who knew he would ever miss high school?

 “Hello. I thought you could use something to drink.”

 Ichigo dropped his legs off the side of window box he’d claimed as his own in one of the downstairs sitting rooms.

 “Sit down?” Ichigo offered.

 Jekyll hesitated before he did so. He sat right at the edge, like he was ready to spring himself away at the first sight of trouble. He’s been jumpy for a while now, and Mordred’s not wrong. He’s often very pale.

 “If you want me to.”

 Ichigo took a long drink of the tea and made a sound of surprise. He looked at Jekyll, who offered him a half smile.

 “I found green tea on a supply run,” he said, almost sheepishly. “Mash told me that you’re from the east.”

 “It’s good,” Ichigo told him. “ I just wasn’t expecting it… Thank you. Really.”

 Jekyll smiled at him a bit wider. “Your welcome.”

 “What’s it like normally?” Ichigo asked abruptly, nodding towards the window.

 Jekyll followed his gaze to the roiling mist outside. The demonic fog was dangerous to most people. Jekyll always had a dark look on his face whenever he got off the radio. More and more people were dropping off, people he’d managed to get in contact with despite everything that was happening. People he knew, and some he didn’t.

 Earlier they’d gone to try to help his friend, Victor. They’d come home with a young girl who was ‘frankenstein’s monster’. Which was not what they were going to call her under any circumstances. Ichigo would fist fight anyone who suggested otherwise.

 “It is still foggy, most mornings. Sometimes it burns off by afternoon. On the worst days, you can’t see the other side of the road. It got worse with the industrialization. Sometimes it’s so bad the fog is more yellow than white, and it’s almost as dangerous as it is now*.

 “That’s…. Kinda horrifying.”

 “Maybe. But it’s still home.”

 Ichigo rested his forehead on the glass, letting the coolness sink into his skin.

 “...When I was a kid I would walk along the riverbanks where my mom died. I can see ghosts, and I kept looking for her. Like she would just appear. But she never did. Sometimes it got foggy in the morning. I thought I’d see her, but it was always just mist.”

 “I’m sorry,” Jekyll said sincerely. “I didn’t know.”

 “It’s fine. It’s been a long time,” he said at last. Not long enough, and it’s not fine.

 Jekyll touched his leg and offered him a slight squeeze before his hand retracted. He didn’t flee, like he originally looked like he would. Instead he sat back and asked Ichigo about his book while the pair of them sat together.

 Mist rolled by, and eyes watched them from across the road, peering out through the cloying mists.

 * *

 “What the actual fuck are you doing?” Ichigo asks when they finally stop, third in line behind red lights and bright menu signs. The smell of fries is unmistakable.

 “You need to eat,” Achilles says like its obvious. Which it is, they can all see how tired he is, and they know him enough to know that some food with get him a better mood. “You’re a straight bitch when you’re hungry.”

 “I don’t think you’d know straight if it smacked you in the ass.”

 “If you’re smacking my ass, you’re definitely not straight- ow!”

 Achilles rubs his arm and actually pouts at Ichigo, who looks smug. Time was he’d have broken his hand hitting his Rider that hard.

 “Why are we at a MgRonalds?” Ichigo asks impatiently.

 “It’s delicious,” Achilles says sagely.

 “It's fried garbage.”

 “It’s      delicious    fried garbage.”

 “I’m not winning this fight, am I?” Ichigo asks, trying desperately to hide the fondness in his voice. Medusa snorts at him from the back seat.

 “Not a chance, Master.”

 “Call me by my name!”

 He’s ignored, as he knew he would be. “How do you even know that you like this stuff? There’s no grail to shove knowledge into your thick skull.”

 “No, but we learned quite a bit with you and Mash, and we’re still connected to you as well. So we know enough to navigate this time, I think.” Cu says from his place next to Medusa.

 “You know that doesn’t make a lot of sense, right?” Ichigo frowns minutely. Then again, there were lots of things that don’t make a lot of sense, that he himself can’t make real sense of.

 Ichigo rubs his fingers across his command seals. They were familiar, the same ones he’d had at Chaldea, but they weren’t in Chaldeas anymore. He’d thought that command spells were distributed by grails themselves, or the FATE system in his case. But apparently that wasn’t the case, or he wouldn’t have these three. Right?

 Achilles elbows Ichigo when they get up to the window. A young man in a red visor that matches his eyes smiles out at them.

 “Hi there,” he said brightly. “Will that be cash or credit?”

 “Here,” Ichigo fishes out his card and passes it over Achilles to the man.

 He glances over the man shoulder when a young girl in pigtails goes flying behind him, followed by the sound of something falling down. The mans smile grows a bit tenser.

 “M-Maou! The fryer-!”

 “Excuse me,” he waves at them and turns away. “Chi, what did you-?”

 The commotion is cut off when the window slides shut with a click.

 Ichigo looks at the other three and can’t help cracking a grin.

 “Sometimes I’m glad I don’t have a day job.”

 “The lives of normal people are not for any of us,” Achilles says with a nod.

 “Okay, whatever you say mr. I-wanna-go-out-in-a-blaze-of-glory.”

 “I don’t regret that decision, and you know it!”

 He knows. Achilles has only few true regrets from his glorious life. One of them is the reason he always hesitates to fight a woman. The other is related to Hektor, who Ichigo had never had the pleasure of summoning himself. For the best, he figures.

 They sit for a few minutes before the girl with the pig tails pops up at the window and hands them their bag with a few frantic apologies that Achilles waves off with a gentle smile.

 “No harm done. Have a good day.”

 Ichigo grips his door like a lifeline when they roar out of the parking lot. There must be magic involved for them not to get pulled over by the cops on the way back to the house. Even though the drive only takes a few minutes at Achilles speed Ichigo still manages to wolf down three burgers in just as man minutes.

 He’s gonna have to practice using his hollow powers, or else he’s going to end up feeling hollow every time after. It’ll make him far too vulnerable for his own comfort, even if he is surrounded by his servants when it happens.

 He trusts them implicitly, but he’s begun to rely on his own power, not just theirs. Having a sword of his own has changed him.

 Medusa helps him out of the car when they finally reach the house, and lets him go once their in the living room. Ichigo falls onto the couch with a long sigh.

 Achilles wasn’t wrong. Food did him some good.

 The couch dips and a weight lands on his lap when the aforementioned Rider crosses his legs across Ichigo’s and hands him the rest of the burgers. Cu takes up the last space on the couch, on Ichigo’s right, and Medusa sets herself up in the chair across the room from the three of them.

 “Thanks,” he says at last. “For pulling me out of there. I was really getting irritated.”

 “He wasn’t being fair,” Achilles says with a frown, “Don’t these people know to just go with your flow yet?”

 Ichigo snorts. “Not yet. I’ll bully them more another time. As much as I would like to just hang out with you guys, they do know things that I don’t. And soon enough, I’m going after Aizen.”

 “Are we?”

 We.

 “Mhmm. I still have my promise to him. I don’t know how to restore memories from a timeline that doesn’t exist anymore, but I can at least prove to him that we used to be friends. I just have to figure out how to get to him. Urahara could get me to Seireitei, he might know a way to where the hollows live too. Now that he doesn’t think I’m losing my mind or whatever.”

 “Your life never is dull,” Cu teases him, tugging his long orange hair. Ichigo rolls his eyes fondly at him.

 “As if you’re one to talk. You’ve been fighting since you were a child.”

 “You were just a boy when we met in Fuyuki,” Cu points out. “Older than me, admittedly, but still young.”

 “I was practically grown up!”

 “That’s not a good thing,” Medusa scowls at him from across the room. “You should mourn your lost childhood. Not celebrate it. Mad man.”

 Ichigo falls silent and looks elsewhere. He can’t even really disagree with her. It’s one of the things he’s most angry at his father for. He’d let Ichigo grow up too fast, he’d never tried to explain what happened and he barely supported him, so lost was Isshin in his own grief. He was always better with the girls, but even Yuzu and Karin are more grown up than they should be for girls of their age.

 He’ll deal with that later. His food is getting cold.

 * * *

 Once Ichigo is out the door, Shinji turns to Urahara.

 “So. That went well.”

 “I thought you said he was having trouble with his hollow. Not that he was about to turn everything on its ear.”

 “I didn’t know,” Urahara defended, snapping his fan shut and pacing away from Shinji. “Yoruichi said that it almost took over during his fight with Kyoraku. She said she had to knock him out to get him out of the situation, before things got really bad. The mask was half formed and he was healing from a cut on his shoulder.”

 “Well he didn’t need our help after all. And now he’s pissed, and I’ve got questions for ‘im,” Shinji crossed his arms over his chest. “Like how the      hell    he managed to just have a conversation with a fuckin’ hollow!”  

 “You think I don’t want to know the answers too?” Urahara frowned at him from over his shoulder. “This could be a turning point. If he went about it a different way that opens so many more possibilities. But now he’s being puppy guarded by those strange friends of his.”

 “Yeah,” Shinji frowns. “Who are they? What are they? They sure as shit ain’t human.”

 “I’m not sure. I think it has something to do with Ichigo being a mage, but he’s not a very forthcoming boy when it comes to mage craft. Some rule that says he has to kill you if he tells you.”

 “That’s one’a the weirdest things about ‘im. Since when can someone be a mage and a shinigami?”

 “I’m beginning to think that impossible things follow Ichigo around like a shadow. Do you know what he said when he was going to save Rukia? That he didn’t need to bring his friends because he would make some there. And you know what he did?”

 “He turned half the officers of the 13 on their own superiors. Ya said somethin’ about that earlier.”

 “Yes. He’s a very unusual boy.”

 Kisuke flicked his fan back open and looks down at the pale paper. “I’ve made many mistakes with him, Shinji. He shouldn’t trust me. He shouldn’t even talk to me, at this point, but this was the first place he brought you for this little fight.”

 “Weird guy,” Shinji says idly. He’s never seen Kisuke so out of sorts, all over a not-so-human boy who’s rapidly turning the world over on its heels. Shinji can’t tell if he’s afraid or excited about what going to happen in the future.

 “Tomorrow, after school, I’m gonna try to bring Ichigo around to meet the others. I wanna see what Hiyori makes of ‘im.”

 “You mean besides a punching bag?”

 Shinji snickers at the image. “I’m not sure I’d put my money on our girl in that case.”

 * * * *

 Ichigo wakes up in Avalon again.

 He’d in Merlin’s lap, his cheek resting on the mages fine robes. He blinks a few times and finds he’s not alone. Again, two spirits sit across from him, but the charged energy of secrets is gone, leaving shoulders loose and muscles relaxed. Be it Neive or Zangetsu, they’ve both calmed considerably.

 “What’s going on?” Ichigo asks, slowly sitting up. Merlin lets him go willingly.

 It’s Zangetsu who starts talking, which is interesting since the last time they were here Ichigo practically had to pull his teeth out to get him to open up.

 “Why am I still here?”

 “...huh?”

 “You woke up last time. I thought I would have disappeared when you knew I wasn’t your real Zanpakutou. Why am I still here?”

 “Because you’re still mine?” Ichigo honestly isn’t sure why they’re even having this conversation. “He’s my zanpakuto and you’re my quincy power. I’m not very good at the bow so you’re stuck being a sword. Deal with it.”

 Zangetsu gapes at him like a fish while Neive howls with laughter.

 “Although,” Ichigo adds. “I need a better way to distinguish the two of you. He’s already Neive, but if he’s actually Zangetsu you can’t be just Zangetsu anymore. So… Tensa. Like the Bankai.”

 “Like the one you barely even use?” Neive asks dryly while he wipes a tear from his eye.

 “Hey! I was totally ready to use it to save Rukia! But nothing else has really happened since then! Even Hirako was just interested in the mask.”

 “Besides, isn’t it always better to keep a card in your back pocket? Now the only people who know about our Bankai, or what it was before now, is Yoruichi and Renji. And probably Urahara, by extension.”

 “Then you will call me that?” Zangetsu -Tensa- asks.

 Ichigo nods with finality. “Tensa and Neive. Both parts of me. Both parts of Zangetsu.”

 “You know,” Tensa begins, “Now that you’re going to be training your quincy powers, your fighting style may change further.”

 “I would think so,” Ichigo says flatly. “But what exactly were you thinking?”

 Tensa taps his fingers along his thigh. “It might not work in the human world, but the next time we’re in Seireitei I’ll let you know.”

 “Fair enough,” Ichigo nods at him, before he finally turns to Merlin.

 “Don’t you have better things to do than drag me into your garden every night?” he jokes, even though he quietly appreciates it. He much prefers Avalon to fire and death and decay.

 Merlin sniffs at him. “Unappreciative cur. I should banish you.”

 “That’s the most bullshit old english thing you’ve ever said!” Ichigo shouts and tackles him into a cloud of flowers. Neive laughs loudly behind them while the pair of mages, one grand and one poor, tussle in a bouquet.

 * * * * *

 There’s a magic book breaking into buildings and killing people. There’s a famous author who looks like a child trying to solve the problem.

 They can’t beat the book, because it’s not physically able to be beaten in the state it’s in. Or something. Ichigo’s not sure he understands what he was talking about, but the end result is that he gives the book a name.

 Alice.

 And all of a sudden the book is not a book, but a little girl clutching a tome of fairy tales to her chest. Her hair is white and her eyes are pink, and she’s absolutely tiny.

 Ichigo grabs Mash by the should hard to keep her from going in fighting.

 “No!” he snaps, dragging her back a step.

 Mash’s brows furrow. “Master, this is the tome that was attacking people…”

 “I know but…” he can’t let her hurt a kid. Besides. “Anderson said she wasn’t trying to kill anyone. She was looking for a master so she could take a human form. And I mean, I’m right here.”

 Ichigo steps towards the girl, past Mash’s safety and the protection that might be provided by Anderson. He walks slowly, with his hands up so he won’t scare her.

 Even if she could probably kill him, he doesn't want to frighten the girl.

 “Hey there,” he says quietly. “I’m Ichigo Kurosaki. It’s nice to meet you Alice. Are you feeling better, now that you’ve got your own two hands?”

 He waits for her hesitant nod.

 “Would you like to come with us?” he asks. “You were looking for a master, right? Well I’m afraid I’m the only one in the city.”

 He offers her his hand.

 Slowly, so slowly, she places her own tiny hand in Ichigo’s larger, calloused one.

 Ichigo picks her up gently into his arms, the fight forgotten. She hadn’t killed any of the people she’d attacked, which helps him justify this beyond him having a soft heart. He just can’t stand the idea of hurting a little girl. Or any little kid. He wants to protect Anderson too, even if he is a bit of an arrogant brat.

 “Man, I hope Jekyll has a couple more rooms free,” Ichigo muses with a grin. Mash shakes her head at him.

 “Master really does collect any strays he sees,” she says halfheartedly. “I’m sure Dr. Jekyll will find a place for everyone.”

 “Good thing he’s not the type to yell.” The other personality though…

 Well. Ichigo could handle Hyde if it came to it.

 * * * * *

[nightowlfandom]

Min Yoongi- The Perfect Date (Fluff)

PROMPT LIST FOR REQUESTS- RIGHT HERE

Hello Love! This was very cute!! Thank you for choosing my blog to request from!! So I’m assuming that you want this to be more fluffy as opposed to smutty so that’s what I went for! Hope you don’t mind too much! Also I love detailed requests like this so you’re absolutely fine!

8- Why can’t you see that I....that I

21- Can’t you see that I....Just forget it

51- Maybe...we could be boyfriend and girlfriend?

80- Shut up! I’m not blushing!

86-Me? You like me?? Y/N if you’re joking you aren’t really funny y’know.”

Leggo!

...

Being a choreographer was fun! Especially if it meant you got to work with so many fun and talented people. Today was no exception. It was the fourth time you got to work with BTS in the same year and you were elated! Not only being good friends with the boys helped you out in your career, but it meant you got to work with them more often! Mostly because you were their first choices when learning new dances.

“Y/N can we take a break? I’m so tired!” A pained sounding Taehyung called from being you. “You really choose a fast dance for this concept.” he sighed.

You, who hadn’t accumulated a drop of sweat rolled your eyes playfully. Laughing as the rest of Bangtan collapsed along with Tae.

“Alright alright you big babies. We can rest for a few minutes.” You giggled at the sight of Jungkook crawling towards a bottle of water like he was on his last dying breath. “Geez, I didn’t think it was that bad. Sorry guys!”

“It’s okay Y/N, you just want what’s best for the group!” Yoongi smiled at you even though he was clearly also very tired. You shot a shy smile Yoongi’s way. Despite being older than you, he never treated you like a child, or like you weren’t as knowledgeable as him. He know you meant well, even as a young dancer who worked to get into the ranks with the big shots and choreographers in the industry. 

“Thanks Yoongi.” you shyly stared down at your shoes. “Actually you know what, three hours might be all the time I have for you guys right now. I have somewhere to be later.”

“Awww but we want to keep Y/N to ourselves!” Hoseok suddenly had a spike in energy and jogged over to hug you. “Y/N is ours and no one else’s!” 

“You’re really sweet Hobi but it’s just for today!” you chuckled, hugging him back. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Yoongi who didn’t like particularly happy to see you so close with Hoseok. “I’ll see you guys later!” You grabbed your bag and prepared to leave while the other boys took it upon themselves to practice more. “Let me know if you guys have any ideas!” you called behind you.

“Hey Y/N! Wait up!” just before you got to the door, Yoongi was running up to you. “Are you busy tomorrow night?”

“Nope! I’m free as a bird” You joked a little. “What’s up?”

“Well I know you’ve tried almost every restaurant in the city but I wanted to take you somewhere to say thank you!” He looked like he was finding the words to say.

“Thank me? For what?” You could feel your face heat up. Was he asking you on a date or was this just one of those business meeting things? Parts of you were hoping for the one while other parts yearned for the other.

Yoongi shifted on his toes. He just couldn’t tell you that he wanted to take you on a date! What if you said no! Or laughed in his face! He shouldn’t feel like this, it was only you! Maybe you were better suited for a guy like Jungkook instead of him. He felt so out of your league that-

“Yoongi?” the rapper had snapped out of his trance when you called his name. “Are you okay?”

“Yes I’m fine!” he lied. “Um, thank you for being such a good friend to all of us and...”

Y-yeah that sounds fun!” you cut him off. Totally not a date but...a friendly get together. “Will the others be joining in.”

Aha! Yoongi had chosen the right time, everyone would be busy which meant he would finally have some alone time with you! Score 1 for Suga!

“Let’s hope.” He winked. “But you should go, you’re gonna be late for whatever you have to do.”

“Thanks Yoongi.” you looked down at your shoes. “See you later then!”

...

Truthfully, that meeting was so unnecessary that it gave you a bigger headache that it was worth. It was quite useless too. Not like you had to be there but whatever. 

Today was a different day and your date-not date with Yoongi was something to look forward to. Spending all morning trying to find the perfect outfit. 

“Where are all my nice things! Sweat pants, Yoga pants, sports bra, tank top. WHERE ARE ALL THE NICE THINGS!??!” You freaked out, digging through your closet. “JUST ONE PAIR OF NICE JEANS IS ALL I ASK FOR.” You yelled to nobody. Maybe a cropped jacket? No. How about a skirt?

....Actually no, you didn’t want to have to find the right shoes to go with one. Your closet was full of clothes you used for dancing, that finding the good stuff was a challenge. 

“Yoongi needs to see me when I’m not in work mode.” you said, determined to find something that would knock his shoes off. “All he ever sees me in are  sweatpants, yoga pants, muscle tanks...HE WILL SEE JUST HOW FASHIONABLE I AM! “ you said determined.

“THAT’S RIGHT SISTER! YOU TELL HIM!” You could hear from above you. The sound of your next door neighbor cheering you on. You had only realized loud you were thinking. 

“Whoops. SORRY DAHYUN!” you called. “Okay, note to self, don’t yell too loud.” You walls were thick, so for your neighbor to hear you, you must have been too loud. 

“DO YOU HAVE A PAIR OF BLACK JEANS?!” You heard her yell from above. “THOSE CAN GO WITH ANYTHING!”

“I think so??” You mused to yourself. “OH! YES I DO!! THANK YOU!!” you yelled again, this time hearing a “KNOCK EM DEAD KIDDO!” in response. You clutched onto the jeans like they were yoru final hope. Knowing you, you wouldn’t find another pair of pants in time.

You grabbed the pair of black jeans and began on the search for a cute top. 

...

“Hey Y/N! Are you...woah!” Yoongi’s jaw almost dropped when you opened your apartment door.

You had settled on one of your favorite shirts to go with those jeans you had found. You didn’t have any nice heels...wow you needed to go shopping more. So you opted for the nicest pair of shoes you thought went with your outfit.

“What?” you looked down at your outfit. “Does it look bad?” you said sadly, your face forming into a frown.

“No! You look amazing. I’m just used to seeing you...in work mode.” he looked taken aback. “You...look beaut-...You look great!” 

Yoongi beat himself up. No Suga, can’t say that!

You breathed out a sigh of relief. “You clean up nice yourself.” you chuckled. Yoongi wore dark wash jeans, a long sleeve shirt with a black leather jacket, and a hat to match everything. He looked jaw dropping. “So the other boys won’t be joining?”

“Nah, they’re all busy. So it’ll be just us.” he smiled. “Lucky us, right?”

“Yeah.” you giggled shyly. “Lead the way!”

...

“I admire you y’know that?” you suddenly said, causing Yoongi to look up from his knuckles. 

“Huh!?!”

“You work very hard for what you love. With your whole solo mixtape, it’s...amazing what you can do. “You said honestly, feeling your face heat up.

“Really? T-that means a lot coming from you Y/N.” he blushed heavily. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but decided against it. The food had come anyways.

“Finally.” both you and Yoongi groaned in unison. It had both taken you by surprise you both we laughed at it. 

You began moving food to your plate, you haven’t gotten to eat out a lot since you were so busy. You looked up to see Yoongi eating too. It was good that he was eating well. You got concerned when Yoongi paused...looking like he was in deep thought. It was kind of cute. You couldn’t help but sneak glances up at him while you ate.

Some time passed, and Yoongi hadn’t said a word.

“Is something wrong Yoongi?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“What do you think of me?!’ he suddenly asked. 

“Huh!?!” you were obviously surprised. “I think you’re-”

“No, I mean...on a personal level.” he sighed. “I really need to know.”

“Well, I think you’re great. Anyone would be lucky to have a chance to be friends with you. You’re caring, you’re funny, you brighten up people’s day just by smiling.” you expressed. “I think that whoever ends up with you would be the luckiest person in the world.” you mumbled the last part. Of course you didn’t want him to hear that part.

“Y/N..I-” Yoongi was searching for the words to say, ever since the first day you two met. He zoned out for a second.

(flashback)

“Namjoon?” You’re jaw dropped as you saw your old friend standing in the room.

“Y/N?” he looked just as surprised as you.

“JOONIE!” You ran into his arms. You were hoisted up and spun around. “You’re a part of BTS?!?”

“YOU’RE our new choreographer?” he looked so surprised. “This is great! I was wondering when I’d see you again!”

“Well here I am!” you grabbed his hands. 

“Ahem”

You turned around to see six more men standing behind you. 

“You knew her, Namjoon?” a taller older looking male asked. 

“Uhhh Hi! I’m Y/N, I’m the new choreographer!” I put my hands in front of me and bowed a little.

“...She’s so adorable!” one of the guys stepped forward. “I’m Hoseok! But you can call me your new best friend!”

“I know! I followed you on all your socials.” you said sheepishly.

“Really?” he blushed.

“Yeah! Every one of my friends from dance school knows who you are, you’re like an icon to us” you said honestly. Hoseok blushed heavily, still smiling.

“You’re Seokjin.” you pointed to the eldest member. He looked happy that you got him right. “Taehyung, Jimin, Jungkook.” you went down the line. You’re eyes landed on the last one. He wasn’t looking at you, he looked like he didn’t have any interest...until you said his name.

“Yoongi.”

(End of flashback)

“Ugh, how do I say this?” Yoongi sighed.

“Yoongi are you...you’re all red.” you raised an eyebrow. “Are you blushing?”

“ N-no! Shut up! I’m not blushing!” He snapped.

“Excuse me?” you raised an eyebrow. “I’m just concerned for you.”

“I didn’t ask you to be!” he groaned. 

“Well I am, and I need to know why you’re acting to damn weird!” you snapped back.

“If you can’t understand then forget it!”

“Wow...” you shook your head. “Okay then.” You dug through your pocket for your wallet and took out some money, slamming it on the table.

“Y/N, where are you going?”

“I’m going home, because something is obviously bothering you.” you crossed your arms. “and frankly I don’t want that something to be taken out on me.” You sighed, about to get up.

“Y/N!” Yoongi grabbed your hand. “Please....”

Damn that cute voice. You slowly turned towards him, sitting back down. 

“You have been acting weird all night and I deserve an answer...right now Yoongi.” you crossed your arms.

“Because I-...Why can’t you see that I-....Can’t you see that I-...Forget it...I’ve wasted your time...just go...-” he looked down at his hands. “You wouldn’t love me back anyways.”

“What?” you were taken aback. Did he just say what you think he just said?

“Shit!” he looked like he was ready to beat himself up. 

“Y-you love me?” you raised an eyebrow. “R-really?” you couldn’t stop the stupid smile from spreading on your face.

“...Ever since we met.” he looked down. 

“I l-love you too.” you said shyly. Looking down.

“What?...I’ll be honest Y/N, that isn’t really funny.”

“I’m serious.” you looked up at him.

“....Me? Y-you love...me? Y/N, if you’re joking you aren’t really funny.”

What could you do to prove that you were telling the truth? You grabbed into his jacket, taking him be surprise. You were sitting next to him....so you scooted closer.

It’s now or never. You pecked his lips. Three seconds, but felt like a million years. You expected Yoongi to freeze up, pull away, anything! You pulled away, rocking on the balls of your heels. Yoongi slipped his fingers under your chin, making you look up at him. It was his turn to kiss you the way he wanted. His hands on either side of your cheeks.

Yoongi was never this shy, but with you? He had no words to describe how he was feeling in this moment. You loved him back. You returned his feelings, You...and him. You both pulled away, breathing heavily and remembering you were in public.

Luckily no one noticed..

“So....Maybe we could be...boyfriend and girlfriend?” he asked shyly.

“Y-yeah.” you had no words to say.

“Awwwww!” you heard.

“Shut up, they might hear us!!”

“Please tell me you heard that too?” you asked.

“Yeah, that kind of sounded like...” you looked behind you and saw the rest of the Bangtan Boys, sitting at another book, all hiding behind menus. “You’ve gotta be kidding.”

“Pay no attention to the boys hiding behind the menu!” You heard Namjoon call. “Pretend we aren’t here!”

“Good job Yoongi! You finally got her!” Seokjin held a thumbs up from behind his menu.

“Argh, you guys are so annoying! I’m trying to have a moment here!” Yoongi complained. Giggling, you planted a kiss on his cheek, which made him blush. “...I g-guess I won’t bet them up...only for today!” he looked back at you, a dumb smile on his face. 

“Oh gosh...this means they’re gonna act all adorable at practice.” Hoseok faked groaned.

[sarcasticgaypotato]

(( Whoops, I did it again. For @bondibee‘s ‘LaaC’ verse, based on some musings we’ve had. )) Chell was dead. Death happened to all humans eventually, so it really ought not to have been so surprising. Chell lived longer than most, much longer in fact. At least a solid ten years more than GLaDOS’s initial estimate. Of course, that was only because of GLaDOS. As Chell started to get older and her body started to underperform, GLaDOS was there to step in.  If Aperture could make a gun that shot holes in reality, they could certainly improve upon pre-existing technology meant to support human life. So, as year after year went by, and bit after bit of Chell’s natural body failed her, GLaDOS hooked her up to some new machine that would kick the the can down the road a little bit further, at least until the next upgrade. But eventually, it got to a point where Chell started turning her head away, scowling at the prospect of whatever new machine GLaDOS had designed for her. It was almost as if she didn’t want to live another year. Another five. Another ten. Yes, she was old and weak and bedridden, yes she could hardly sit up, and lived off an IV drip, but she was alive. Chell was barely a shadow of the athletic, quick-thinking, tenacious, test-solving woman that she had once been, but she was still Chell.  GLaDOS had kept her brain deterioration to a shocking minimum, and so Chell was very much still in there- if she had been reduced to some wheezing old hag who couldn’t remember her own name, GLaDOS might’ve given up sooner and let her go- but sometimes she wondered if that made things harder. Chell knew who she was, where she was, and what she had been able to do. To then, with full understanding and memory, watch herself lose those capabilities, one by one, had been painful. The powerful test subject that GLaDOS had come to love now... seemed nothing but tired.

And so, when she was on her deathbed, Chell had actually smiled. Her lips pulled gently upwards as she rested a frail hand on GLaDOS’s balled up fist. As if that was supposed to comfort her.  GLaDOS had been fighting tooth and nail to save her this time, but she hadn’t been prepared, her latest prototype wasn’t ready and- “GLaDOS…?” GLaDOS looked up, blinking tears- she wasn’t crying. Was she? Her cheeks were wet but she wasn’t crying- out of her eyes, and trying to focus her gaze on the woman in front of her. “I…” Chell’s voice came out like a croak, sickly and weak, and far from the attractively low growl that it had been in her prime. GLaDOS couldn’t help but wonder if something was making it painful for her to talk, hence the way she paused in-between each word.  Frantically, the AI tried and determine what it was.  Maybe she could get her some water, some medicine, something to make it easier for her to say what it was that she needed to say. But the rest of Chell’s sentence didn’t come. GLaDOS waited, and she was met with silence. “Speak.” ... “ ...I said SPEAK damn you, now is not the time to play mute again!” GLaDOS rose her voice, trying to ignore the way that her pitch dangerously wavered and threatened to crack.  A flare of anger rose in her chest that burned white hot, as she stared down at Chell, who lay there, ignoring her. Ignoring her with glassy eyes and a chest that no longer moved up and down with raspy breaths, there was nothing but silence. Silence that was only broken by the cold, hard sound of a flatline. GLaDOS’s anger was replaced with freezing cold dread.  A pit of ice that formed in her stomach, and slowly spread outwards. Chell was dead. And GLaDOS wasn’t ready. Chell had been on death’s door for far too long now, but GLaDOS had stubbornly shook her head and refused to believe it. Chell couldn’t die yet. She still had another year in her. Another month. Another day. GLaDOS just needed one more day. One more hour. Five more minutes. She needed Chell, she couldn’t lose her. She couldn’t say goodbye yet. And days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months, and months turned into years. Soon, it had been a decade since Chell died, and GLaDOS still could not bring herself to let it go. Chell’s body was perfectly preserved, held in stasis exactly the way it had been merely minutes after death. It was tucked away in a secure room, then locked up. GLaDOS hadn’t looked at the body since the day Chell died.  Seeing it would only make her death more real, so she tried to pretend it wasn’t there. Chell was dead, and GLaDOS couldn’t handle that.  So... maybe, she didn’t have to. It had been a decade, and GLaDOS finally started to move forward. Not move on, but not stay stagnant. That wasn’t very good science. She threw herself into her work instead, completing a project that she had been forbidden to do.   Chell had never wanted this, she had said as much, no matter how much GLaDOS had tried to convince her otherwise. But that was alright.  GLaDOS could let herself be selfish, that was not the worst thing she had ever been called.  Chell could hate for a hundred years if she wanted, and that would be fine. Time would soon be irrelevant to the both of them. All GLaDOS needed was to be able to hold Chell in her arms again. Warm and alive, and in her prime.  And GLaDOS had the technology to one day do so. GLaDOS could grow a body. If she could make dozens of human forms for herself, she could make a perfect copy of someone else’s. She had Chell’s body, she could take whatever samples she needed, and go from there. She had Chell’s brain scanned, she need only turn memories and feelings into lines of code.  If GLaDOS herself could exist like this, so too could Chell. And so she worked, tirelessly, to perfect the process that the scientists before her had created.  They had found out how to create robotic life with a human base, but that wasn’t what GLaDOS needed.  She was made from the building blocks of Caroline, but she was still someone new. GLaDOS didn’t want to make someone new. She just wanted Chell back. But she would be careful. She would be cautious, she would check every line of code, every second of the process. She would find where the scientists who created her went wrong, and she would fix their mistakes.  She would do this right. Unfortunately, defying death was not so simple.  And for as much as GLaDOS could, and would oppose the natural order of things- her existence alone spat on the process of organic life- that did not mean that the universe would not fight back. When she first brought Chell online, she had been eagerly waiting at the not-so-human’s side.  Chell’s new body was as young and powerful as it had been when they first met, lively looking and healthy. Chell’s eyes, when they opened for the first time, shimmered with life, and seemed leagues away from the exhausted dullness they had held the last time GLaDOS saw her. But nothing was ever as perfect as it seemed. This was not the Chell that GLaDOS had spent years with, fallen in love with. This Chell did not look at her with fondness or affection.  It first met her gaze with guarded confusion. Perhaps… she did not recognize GLaDOS’s human form.  She had made this one to look exactly the same as it had been when she first inhabited it- it was only fair, she would not put herself in an old, weaker body if Chell got to be youthful- but it was possible that Chell would’ve expected to see the same form that she had looked at before she died. So GLaDOS spoke, reminded her who she was.  The Genetic Lifeform and Disk Operating System. And Chell changed. It did not take long for GLaDOS to realize her mistake. As Chell grew more and more defensive, looked around the room for means of escape or attack, GLaDOS knew that she had brought Chell back, but she had brought a version of her back that was robbed of half her life. A Chell that looked and thought the same as she had all those years ago. Stuck with only GLaDOS’s murder attempt as the most recent memory in her head. It was too cruel, GLaDOS decided, to see her like this.  She did not wait so long to be met with someone who looked at her with anger, fear, and confusion. She could not stand to be with a Chell who did not remember how tenderly she had held GLaDOS, kissed her, loved her. GLaDOS did the only thing there was to do. This was only the first test of many, she had an eternity to figure the process out to bring Chell back.  She had everything she needed to tweak the the system and start again as many times as she needed.  This was a minor setback, nothing to worry about. Yet…GLaDOS couldn’t quite stop the tears that fell from her eyes. Tears that cut paths through her makeup, and washed away the splatter of blood that had sprayed against her skin. She was only getting rid of a failed experiment. But Chell was dead. Again.

[akaluan]

In Which the Plot is Avoided

((Fic title prompt by Anon

Also inspired by this prompt from @corvidprompts

I have absolutely not solidified my voice for Bazz yet, whoops. I feel like this is a bit iffy in some spots and definitely needs some cleanup, but I kinda like it.))

Bazz destroys the rampaging Hollow with a single arrow to the mask, then stalks forward to see what fool got caught up in a battle out of their league. It doesn’t take him long.

There’s someone on the ground dressed in Shinigami attire and Bazz rolls his eyes in exasperation. How the mighty have fallen. He can remember a time when Shinigami were bold and ruthless, capable of destroying Hollows like that as easily as Bazz himself did.

Peace is doing none of them a favor, he muses absently.

Then the Shinigami stirs and pushes themself up, stabbing their giant blade into the ground and leaning on it. Their reiatsu ripples, bright and powerful and /young/—

Bazz stares in mute horror at the /youth/ kneeling on the ground, exhausted and bleeding. The boy’s reiatsu is painfully young and untaught. He’s never /met/ a Shinigami so young and untrained before. What the /hell/ are they /doing/ in Seireitei? Have they entirely forgotten their history and Yhwach’s oaths? Or are they so desperate now that they’re recruiting /newborn souls/?

“You’re just a child!” he manages to spit, then turns to glare at the empty park all around them. /Surely/ someone is watching out for the boy, making sure he doesn’t get in over his head /like he’s already done/—

But there’s nothing that Bazz can sense. No watchers and no backup.

The boy sniffs and wearily shoves himself up, bracing himself on his over-sized cleaver-blade. “I’m not a child.”

Bazz watches the boy blankly, then sighs and glances upwards, praying for patience. He’s absolutely /earned/ this sass, a tiny part of him acknowledges. He never liked being called a child as a child either. “You’re a goddamn child especially compared to me, so shush,” he sasses right back, making the boy scowl darkly at him. “Who the fuck sent you out here, anyway? Who do I gotta beat some sense into? Kids don’t go to war, especially untrained! Fuck. What the hell are those Shinigami fuckers thinking…”

“I’m a Substitute!” the boy snaps. “And I’m doing perfectly fine.”

It stalls Bazz for a moment. A ‘substitute Shinigami’? The idea is absurd, and yet he can feel the boy’s belief ring strong and steady through his reiatsu. “Whoever sold you that load of crock is good,” Bazz tells the boy dryly, “but Shinigami don’t do shit like that. Their power is theirs, and they don’t like t’share.”

The boy rolls his eyes. “Look, jii-san, however you think Shinigami do things, you’re wrong. Rukia gave me her powers because a Hollow injured her and I needed them to protect my sisters.”

Bazz desperately wants to call bullshit on that story, except he /can’t/. The boy is utterly convinced of what happened to him and Bazz can feel the boy’s resolution to protect burning sun-bright. It makes a distant part of him ache for a better time. A simpler time.

“Fine. If you want t’believe she did it out of the goodness of her heart, be my guest.” Bazz doubts it. Either this boy is being set up or the Shinigami who handed her powers over is some sort of fool. Or, if he remembers the reports right, it might be both.

A Living World boy capable of containing and /using/ a Shinigami’s powers. There are enough factions active amongst the Shinigami that such a resource is unlikely to be overlooked.

“She gave me a way to protect my sisters,” the boy repeats stubbornly. He straightens up and glowers at Bazz. “She’s helping me protect Karakura. That’s all I care about.”

Bazz crosses his arms over his chest. He’ll never be able to convince the boy otherwise. Shouldn’t even bother. It’s none of his business and affects nothing of his plans.

Except a part of him hates how untrained the boy remains. Hates how innocent the boy is of what’s likely to come. Hates that more innocents are going to get dragged into the middle of a war that doesn’t involve them.

(But that’s what war is. A consuming force that devours everything before it.)

(He hates Quincy and Shinigami alike.)

He casts his senses out. Searches for any sign of his /companions/ spying on him. Finds nothing.

That’s good. That’s great, actually, since he’s contemplating almost-treason. But maybe he can spin it just right, convince everyone that he’s swaying the boy to their side.

(He has no intention of convincing the boy of anything.)

(If he does this right, maybe the boy will grow up to be a useful ally against Yhwach. Surely Haschwalth will be proud—)

(Surely…)

Bazz grins at the boy. Laughs as the boy takes an awkward step back, eyes wide and caution suddenly spiking through his reiatsu. “Well. If you want to protect—” Bazz darts forward. Grabs the back of the boy’s  shihakushō in a tight grip— “then I think you need some lessons. Let’s go, brat. Free lessons in survival and war.”

“Wh—hey! Let me go!”

“I’ve got two hours before I need t’leave. Let’s make the most of it, shall we?” Bazz says with a cheerful grin. Drags the boy off in a burst of hirenkyaku.

He’ll give the boy some quick lessons and see if he’s worth helping more.

(Anything to help a young innocent survive the coming inferno.)

[it-refused]

Summary: Grillby’s given up on Sans, but that might’ve been a bad idea.

A/N: This is just an out of nowhere scene from a human AU.  I wanted to experiment with some unrelated writing stuff 

CN: They drink and smoke 

Rating: T

--

The picnic was in full swing.  Everyone had scattered around Undyne's backyard, playing games or sitting in the shade under the trees back by her fence.  Sans was content staying at the glass picnic table after most of the rest of the crowd had wandered off.  He was too buzzed from the steady stream of beer he had been drinking to be bothered by the heat of the sun.

Grillby sat across from him.  His eyes were on Undyne, across the yard, hoisting Alphys onto her shoulders.

"never a dull moment, huh," Sans said.  

Grillby had zoned out from the sun and the food, and Sans suddenly talking startled him.  His lips quirked into a smile and he shrugged.  

"they're good kids," Sans said.

Undyne ran across the yard, Alphys yelling and laughing on her shoulders.  

"Kids?" Grillby signed.  "They're the same age as us."  

"we're good kids, too."  

Grillby laughed.  He didn't get called a kid very often anymore.  "When's their wedding?"

Sans' eyes watched his hands, and then flicked back up to his face.  "when someone sucks it up and asks, probably.  it'll end up like when they first went out.  all this tension, and then it was all aired out and done in twenty minutes."

Grillby couldn't help but be envious.  Things never worked out that neatly for him. Months of tension and finally forcing himself to just do it, just ask, had ended with just more misunderstanding and confusion.  At least Sans had taken the gesture to mean Grillby wanted to be better friends with him, and hadn't interpreted it negatively.  

"heh.  what those two need is a laxative.  except for dating.  just force it and get it all out at once."  

"..." Grillby had to cover his face for a minute before he could say anything.  He finally signed: "Romantic."  

"that's what everyone says about me, yeah."

Sans wasn't Grillby's only friend at the picnic, but Dogaressa and Dogamy were busy playing frisbee with their kids and their young dog.  Grillby was happier over in the sun drinking beer with Sans.  He didn't get to spend a lot of time sitting, thanks to his work, so he stretched out his legs and relaxed.  

"what about you, huh?"  Sans asked.  

Grillby wondered if he'd missed something.

"i mean, you and...whoever," he clarified, unhelpfully.  "you must've been going out for a while.  i don't think i've met 'em."

"Who?" Grillby asked.  "I'm not seeing anyone."

Sans shaded his eyes and stared at him.  "what?  huh.  no kidding.  oh.  uhh...was it recent?  sorry, man.  shouldn't drink and talk.  crash right into it."

"I haven't dated anyone seriously in three years," Grillby signed.  He was utterly baffled.  

"wow.  wonder where i got that idea from?"  Sans sipped his beer, musing over his misunderstanding.  "must've just assumed it and then ran with it."  He laughed and winked.  "i mean, you're a pretty good looking guy, so why would you be single, right?"

This was almost too much.  He had asked Sans to coffee and gotten all worked up about it when he accepted, only to have him obviously completely unaware it was meant as a date the entire time.  Sans got coffee with his friends all the time, apparently, so he'd seen it as an overture of friendship.  Grillby had eventually decided that Sans just didn't see him that way and didn't see him that way to such a degree that Grillby asking him out had just never occurred to him as a possibility.  All the time they had been spending together since then - going to get coffee, seeing the occasional movie, including each other in events like this picnic - had been pleasant and he'd just decided being Sans' friend was good enough.

But apparently Sans had thought he had to be seeing someone?  

"What the hell?"  Grillby signed.  He pinched the bridge of his nose over his glasses.  

"no idea, grillbz," Sans said.  He laughed at himself, again.  He remembered Grillby mentioning going out on a date probably two years ago, and he must have figured it was a long term thing.  

"I'm very single," Grillby clarified.  

"single and ready to mingle, huh?"  

Grillby closed his eyes.  He nodded.  Sure, why not?  He was curious where this was going.

"well, i've had a lotta beer and i know tons of people.  maybe i can help you out. what's your type?"

Grillby opened his eyes and stared at him.  

"i mean, if you want."  Sans shrugged.  He looked around the yard.  A lot of the people their age were in relationships or coming out of them and glad of it.  "but i need something to work with.  tall, hard worker, blond-- just give me a hint."  It actually grated a bit that a great guy like Grillby couldn't find anyone.  The sun baking him wasn't the only thing that made Grillby hot.  Plus he was just...good.  He worked hard, he was great at what he did, he was kind to his friends, and he even laughed at Sans' jokes, sometimes. He was the whole package.  

Grillby seemed to be a little bit annoyed.  Maybe he'd crossed a line, there.

"What's my type?"  Grillby asked.  He set his hands down and rapped them on the table.  His lips were pressed together so they made a thin line. He suddenly moved, so he was standing and leaning across the table. He reached out and jabbed Sans directly in the middle of the forehead.  

He sat down again, heavy, in his chair.  

Sans touched his own forehead.  For a second, he was completely confused by what the gesture was supposed to mean.  When he realized, something hard seemed to sink into his stomach.  He swallowed.  

Grillby crossed his arms over his chest and looked away.

"uh, heh...what?"  That was sure the wrong thing to say.

Grillby rolled his eyes and stood up.  

"where are you--"

Grillby glared at him and then started walking off, towards the gate.  He was going back to his car and going home.  

Sans didn't think that was really fair.  He'd just kind of laid that on him and left.  

Except...the guy sure had come to a picnic with a lot of people he didn't care about, and he'd spent a huge chunk of his time there hanging out with Sans.

He had a feeling he'd been misunderstanding things for quite a while.  

Sans hauled himself out of his chair and wobbled until his head stopped spinning. Grillby had a head start, but Sans knew a shortcut or two.

There was a gap between the hedges and the fence, which gave him a much more straightforward path towards the road.  Grillby had parked a little distance down the street, so Sans strolled through the neighbor's backyard.  He was standing by Grillby's car, waiting, by the time he spotted Grillby walking down the street towards him.

Grillby caught sight of Sans and his shoulders slumped.  He looked resigned.  When he got to his car, he opened the front door and took out a pack of cigarettes from the glove compartment.  He offered the box to Sans.  

"i quit again."

He nodded and just took one for himself.  He closed the door and leaned against his car, taking a long slow drag from his cigarette.  He exhaled and the smoke circled up over him.  

"sorry about laughing, back there.  just took me by surprise."  

Grillby shrugged.   He'd realized that.  "Sans.  When someone asks you to get coffee, it isn't always just about coffee."  He kept his cigarette between his teeth while he signed, and then took another long drag when he was done.

"whoops.  yeah, i really thought you were seeing someone."  

He nodded.  Well, that was cleared up.  Grillby felt like an idiot.  He couldn't even blame Sans for being oblivious.  At some point he could have said "Hey, did you know this was supposed to be a date?" and cleared everything up.

Sans had a tiny leaf in his hair.  Grillby tapped on his own head to show him where it was.

"yeah, kinda dumb.  but you gotta admit, grillby.  you're, uh, out of my league."

Grillby rolled his eyes.  Sans was charming, friendly, and sometimes when he aimed his smile at Grillby, he felt like his heart was going to pound out of his chest.  They stood by the car in silence while he finished his cigarette.  He dropped it on the ground and stepped on it to put it out.  

Sans' hands were shoved deep into his pockets.  He wanted to ask if he'd blown his chance.  He thought that Grillby not getting in his car and driving away meant he hadn't, but he sure wasn't making any kind of move.  At this point, he'd made all of them, anyway.  Sans should probably do something or say something.  Like, that he wouldn't mind giving it a shot.  

He tried to figure out how to put it.  "uh, maybe..."  Couldn't get the rest of it out.  

Grillby was looking annoyed again, and Sans just wanted to do something that would clarify things.  His head was buzzing and he was a little sick to his stomach.  Nothing felt entirely real.  Sans knew what he wanted to do, but it was pretty much impossible.  He told people he was five foot tall because they got weird if he said he was under that, and Grillby wasn't tall but he was a lot taller than that.  Even on Sans' tiptoes he wouldn't quite reach.

"oh, hey, you got a little something - some ash or something on your face.  just bend down a sec."  

Grillby wiped at his face, but couldn't get it off since there was nothing actually there. He shrugged and leaned down and Sans brushed a spot right under his eye.  When he went to stand back up straight, Sans put his hand on Grillby's shoulder and held him down.  He swallowed.

Grillby was right there, now, his lips parted slightly.  Sans' eyes flicked from Grillby's eyes down to his mouth, and then back up again, but he couldn't make himself cross the small gap left between them.  

Sans knew he was a coward.  That was the big reason Grillby was out of his league.  

Grillby suddenly laughed.  He got what was happening.  

He smiled and leaned in, pressing their lips together and then pulling back to readjust himself to kiss him properly.  Sans' lips were as soft as he had imagined.  When Grillby felt a tentative hand on his hip, he knew he had read Sans right and he let himself wrap his arms around Sans and hold him a little closer.  

Grillby's back started to twinge, and Sans climbed up onto the hood of Grillby's car and they kissed again, comfortably.  They needed to get off a public street but Sans was too buzzed to be embarrassed and Grillby was too happy to reel himself in, yet.  

Sans was the first to pull away, quite a while later.  "i'd better get back to the party, before bro comes looking for me."

They weren't in a very private place.  Grillby nodded.  

"you coming with?  they kept saying there'd be dessert."

Grillby looked Sans over and tugged a small leaf out of his hair.  

"huh."

"Did Toriel make something?"

"yeah, she brought a couple pies."

Grillby tossed the pack of cigarettes into the car and followed Sans back to the party.  

[battletowered-archived]

In battle, how much does your muse pay attention to the other trainer? Would they notice if something was wrong with their opponent? If so, do they take that into consideration (ie calling the battle off or just going easy on them), or do they ignore it in an attempt to win?

    ||OOF Sorry Misha Im so late to answer this whoops.||

     Leon pays attention to the other trainer a decent amount-- especially if they’re someone younger than him or less experienced than he is. When he’s on the top of his game, he’s usually monitoring his opponents reactions to judge their reactions and try and gauge their stress to measure how his team is doing and plan his next move.

     If it’s someone he battles against regularly? He’d most definitely notice if something was off. He’s not likely to call a battle off entirely unless his opponent is very clearly unfit to keep going, though he doesn’t afford himself that same luxury, and he will push himself into the ground. With as long as he was in the league, he knows how to manipulate a battle to look exciting for a crowd, so he might go easy on them. 

     It really depends who he’s battling against-- if it was Raihan he wouldn’t ever go easy on him because he’s positive Raihan would absolutely ream him. However, for someone like Hop, Vic, or Gloria? He’d probably refuse to keep fighting if he knew something was wrong, and if he knew they were likely to get hurt, he’d forfeit. His win/loss record isn’t worth serious injury for someone else.