#but then when i opened it it was just one of those generic restaurant mints so it was a little disappointing

[i-am-just-a-skeleton]

I fuckin love when you go to a parade and somebody's throwing the most obscure out-of-pocket weird-ass candy like everybody else's got skittles and tootsie rolls and bubble gum but these weirdos have whatever the fuck all this is

[giggly-squiggily]

Helloo if req is open may you write a platonic tk fic between rin and sae if it is posible? Thank you so much!

Oh my god YES! :D These two need it, I swear! Okay so; general heads up: I'm exclusively an anime watcher when it comes to Blue Lock- meaning I don't really know how these two's relationship stands or what goes down during/post the whole U-20 arc; I just know they deserve to be happy. I hope you like it! :D

CW: Swearing, angst with a happy ending, sass, possible OOC-ness of the characters (I tried to keep it as close to their canon personalities as possible but yeah), Spoilers for Sae and Rin's backstory- kinda. Not full detailed ones but I'll tag accordingly anyway

Cloud 9 (Taglist):

@myreygn, @cupcake-spice13

“Hey, who allowed you to get so tall?” Sae narrowed his eyes at him.

“Genetics.” Rin shrugged, pushing down the toaster shelf.

If you told Rin Itoshi he’d have a relationship with his brother again in the near future, he would have told you to fuck off. Possibly throw shoes at you too.

Then he’d feel bad for throwing shoes because he was raised better than that, but still.

Things kinda happened in a blur since the U-20 match. A call had come; an invite to dinner. Then he was at Sae’s hotel room, splitting a pizza when the restaurant proved too crowded for either of them. Words were exchanged, a few tears were shed, and by the end of the night, Rin found he could finally breathe again in the presence of Sae.

They’re relationship was still fairly awkward at times; it was impossible to go back to where they were before Sae went to Spain. Still- when Rin called him and mentioned they’d gotten time off from Blue Lock, a room was made up for him at the apartment; clean and prepped with fresh bedding, as if it’d been waiting for him this entire time.

“No mint on the pillow?” He joked upon getting there.

“Please, we already have Shidou. We don’t need anymore pests.” Sae had rolled his eyes, the gesture lacking any real malice upon mentioning the demonic player.

That’s where they were now- getting comfortable in their newfound relationship.

“Tch.” Sae scoffed, shaking his head in mock disapproval as he turned from the coffee maker, mug in hand. “I remember when you barely came up to my elbow. You were so small- running after me on those stubby legs of yours, trying to kick the ball out from beneath my feet.” He shook his head, a rare smile tugging on his lips. “You’d get so worked up about it too. I’d have to buy you a popsicle so you’d stop crying.”

“Shut up, I was six.” Rin rolled his eyes, a blush burning his face at the memory. “Of course I was short. At least I grew since then.” He turned, raising a brow at his brother. “What’s your excuse?”

A look of shock passed his brother’s face, jaw dropped and brows raised. Rin felt a twinge of satisfaction. If the Press could see his usually stoic brother now, they’d probably faint. “I see you gained a mouth along with all that height in these past few years.” He sounded a touch impressed.

“More than you gained, it seems.” Rin couldn’t help himself. It wasn’t even that Sae could be called short; it was just so satisfying to sass him. He deserved it, probably. 

“Tall as you are, you’re still a little shit.” Sae put down his mug, rolling up his sleeves with a dangerous glint. “Seems like I’m gonna have to remind you just who you’re talking to.”

Rin ignored him- mainly due to the toaster popping, presenting his warmed Pop-tart. He should have known Sae didn’t make empty threats.

The moment his poptart touched the plate, hands were latching onto his sides, digging into his ribs with relentless pressure. Rin-much to his embarrassment- let out a loud squawk, the poptart nearly flying out of hand as he doubled over. “Gah! N-No! Dohon’t!”

“All this time later and you’re still ticklish?” Sae sounded deeply amused, a rare smile pulling on his lips as he carried on wiggling his fingers up and down the younger boy’s sides. “Maybe you should have considered that before you started sassing me.”

Rin went to retort with yet another remark, but Sae had found a terrible spot beneath his lower ribs, clogging his throat with growing giggles. “Ngh! N-No! S-Sae!”

“Hm? What, no retort?” The older boy asked, keeping one hand on Rin’s lower ribs while the other came around to his belly, clawing. “Come on- just laugh. You know you want to.”

That did it. Rin let out a wheeze before he doubled over, laughter bubbling over his lips as he tried sinking to the kitchen floor. “Fuuhuhuhuhuhuck! Fuhuuhhuhuck, gahhahahahahahha! Nohoohohoohooho, Sahahahahhahahe you ahahhahahahhahass!”

“Oi, show some respect, you brat.” Sae switched to digging into Rin’s armpits when his hips proved too far to reach, barely fighting down a chuckle at the harsh swear his brother let out, immediately followed by childlike giggles. “Look at you- you can barely say my name, let alone stand. Tell you what- take back what you said about me being short and I’ll let you live.”

“Nehehehhehver, shohoohohort stahhahahahck!” Rin declared without any hesitation. Ever the stubborn one.

Sae tsked, slowing down his tickles and giving the other a chance to breathe. “You really are determined to die today, are you? I’m starting to regret letting you stay here- how the hell am I going to hide your body?” He reached out, squeezing the back of Rin’s neck, earning a yelp as the boy scrunched up. “Maybe I’ll bury you in the backyard and plant a garden over you. Think Shidou would notice?”

“Prohoohbably not.” Rin groaned, and then- because he could. “He’s used to shitty things. That’s why he’s dating you.”

Sae, who was turning back to his coffee, froze, slowly looking back at Rin with scary eyes. Oh, he was DEAD. “And to think I was gonna be merciful this morning.”

Seconds later, Rin was kicked onto his back, Sae pinning him faster than he could react. He wasn’t much of a fighter- neither of the brother’s were- though Rin was faster to throw a punch. He went to do just that before a scream ripped from his throat, laughter returning stronger than ever. “GAHEHHAHAHAH! SHAHAHAHHAE!”

“I tried to be nice, but it’s clear to me that you’re still a little shit all this time later.” Sae scolded as he drilled his thumbs into Rin’s hips, going right for his worst spot. “Now- do you wanna repeat what you just said?”

“AHEHAHHAHA!” Rin was a mess, hands trying to shove off Sae’s vice grip as he thrashed and squirmed against the kitchen floor, feet kicking and scoffing the ground. His face felt like it was on fire, and his hair blinded him, hiding his scrunched up eyes. It was humiliating and stupid and he wanted to rip his skin off as a means of escape.

But also…it was fun. Really fun. He hadn’t felt like this since they were kids, when Sae would tickle him until he was squealing through tears caused by a scraped knee. He could almost see the fond smile his brother wore when he did so. The memory even during all this made his heart ache.

“Do you give up?” Sae asked, bringing him back to reality. Right- his death. A small part of him was tempted to shake his head, declare that he’d never give up just to see what would happen.

What came out of his mouth instead shocked both of them.

“NIHIIHIIHIHIIHI-SAHHAHAN PLEHAHAHAHHASE!” The squeal of mercy was the true end of it all. Sae’s hands stopped almost immediately, pulling away from Rin’s prone body. The younger boy scooted up the floor a few paces arms tossed loosely around his waist as he tried to catch his breath. Well, at least it was over-

Oh god.

Oh GOD.

“Shit…” He groaned, covering his face with his hands, mortified. He didn’t just say that outloud-he didn’t! Across from him, Sae was silent as stone, seeming to be frozen to the floor. Great- there goes any real progress they made at fixing their relationship. Rin readied the speech in his head. I’ll head back to our parent’s house. I’ll be fine. I’ll be gone in the morning-

“Heh, you haven’t called me that in years.” Sae spoke, his voice strangely soft. When Rin dared a peek, he saw it.

 It wasn’t as open as it was years before, but the same fond look was in his eyes, softening his carefully stoic expression immensely. A ghost of a smile was on his brother’s lips, not quite there yet, but it was something.

“Don’t remind me. God, that was- that…Fuck! You suck!” Rin growled, scooting back with a proper glare. Sure his face was still on fire, and his body was still tingling with a cross of tickly residue and nostalgia, but he was adamant on being angry. “What the hell? My Poptart-”

Sae then did the unexpected. He bursted into laughter.

“Pfft- Gehehhahahaa! Good god, aahhhafter all that, and you're worried about a POPTART?” He cackled, falling back on his ass as he held his gut, head thrown back and smile wide. “Good God, Rin! You haven’t changed at all.”

“....Tch, whatever.” Rin rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he fought down his own fit of laughter, the struggle increasing when Sae let out an ungodly pig snort. “Ugh, you’re so annoying.” He kicked his leg gently, too tired to stand. He felt light and breathless and exhausted and just…

“What’s up?” Sae shook his ankle, gaining his attention. “You look sad.”

“I’m not.” Rin ducked his head, hiding his expression. “I’m not. I just…I don’t know- I think part of me…misses this.” He waved between them. “I missed just…laughing with you, I guess. It all feels so far away, still.”

Sae hummed, considering. Then he stood, walking over and offering a hand. “It doesn’t have to be a distant memory anymore.” When Rin looked up, Sae’s face was back to its usual calm, but his eyes were kind. “I’m here. And I don’t plan on leaving again.”

“Promise?” Rin hated how small his voice sounded. He hated it more when he saw something break in Sae’s eyes, dark with remorse.

“I promise.” He sounded a tag hoarse as he ruffled Rin’s hair, breaking the tension. “Come on then, I’ll make breakfast.”

“Please don’t.” Rin cringed as he stood. “You can’t cook.”

“Do you want me to tickle you again?” Sae raised a brow. Rin couldn’t help but grin.

They ended up ordering breakfast instead.

Thanks for reading!

[abed-with-a-knife]

"Level Ten" ~ Birdrick and R&M oneshot!!

summary: When Morty and Rick-bot arrive on level ten of the underground lair, they find something more unexpected than just Rick. 5858 words!!

Most visitors to the subterranean lair would expect the hastily installed elevator to be creaky and slow, but contrary to those assumptions it moves swiftly and silently through the vertical passageway. According to the buttons available, a rough three dozen floors exist, labeled negative one through thirty-seven, and a single option just marked by a disco ball. Rick seems generally anxious about the lightsaber situation and does not care to answer Morty’s question about the mysterious disco button.

“C’mon, l-level fifteen, let's go,” he urges as the doors slide open a sliver and he presses through, Morty following close behind.

They enter an ambient, quaint sushi restaurant, the bar attended by an elderly Japanese man who greets Rick formally. Rick replies with something Morty can’t understand, though he’s not paying much attention anyway, amazedly studying the underground restaurant.

“What is this even for?” he asks, laughing. “We live above this?”

Rick waves him off. “We overshot it a bit, but that’s a good problem to have!” he remarks with a grin.

They both stare expectantly at the ceiling until Morty’s impatience makes an appearance. “I told you, level ten, Rick!” Morty groans, rushing back into the elevator.

“N-no, Morty!” Rick rushes behind him, too late to prevent Morty from pressing the button.

The elevator speeds up five floors and opens on a curious sight.

“...R-Rick?” Morty asks tentatively, backing away from the ‘Rick’ beside him and gaping at the new one in front of him. Or… ‘new’ is a generous term, this version of his grandfather looks far from mint. Tangled, greasy hair lies in wild puffs on his head, his face is unshaven, eyes bloodshot. Morty feels almost tempted to laugh seeing his grandpa in boxers and an undershirt, but the glare he’s receiving waves that urge off.

“You dumb fucking robot, you had one job!” curses the disheveled Rick. 

Morty glances anxiously between the two Ricks. “Uh- um. What is this? Grandpa?” he asks the nicer version tentatively. 

“S-sorry kid,” he responds, attempting to place a reassuring hand on Morty’s shoulder. “Not that I’m not really your grandpa or anything-”

Morty shoves him off, glaring.

“-Shut up. Morty, that’s a robot,” explains Rick.

“I fucking knew it was too good to be true! So what… what the fuck are you doing down here, why are you-” He stops mid-sentence as a tiny blaze of light hits the ceiling and descends in an instant. He’s barely able to recognize it as the missing lightsaber and stares in a frozen stupor as it falls.

Out of view, a strange hand grabs the hilt of the saber with lightning reflexes. Birdperson. He holds it cautiously, eyeing Rick. “Is this… yours? Or an assassination attempt?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed with suspicion.

Rick smiles, for seemingly no reason, and BP flicks the lightsaber off and tosses it to him. Rick then gruffly says, “It’s his-” gesturing rudely to Robot Rick like he’s an object that clashes with the feng shui. “Wait, you gave him a fucking lightsaber ?” he asks after finally processing it.

Robot Rick sweats nervously, which shows how much effort Rick must have put into his construction to give him realistic sweat glands. “It’s what he wanted for Christmas according to your algorithm!” he defends. “Not that I use algorithms, I’m not a machine or anything,” he adds to Morty with a nervous chuckle.

Morty pays him no attention, staring at the real Rick with bitter anger. “You… Rick, what’s going on?”

Surprisingly, Rick looks actually regretful, at least for the moment. He swallows nervously. “Kid, it’s not what it looks like. I’m doing this to protect you, okay? I’m down here sweating my balls off so the family can be safe.”

“I-I-I. I d-don’t understand,” Morty stutters, his speech problem becoming more and more noticeable as his thoughts spiral and his breath quickens.

Rick looks over to Birdperson, who purses his lips and approaches Morty. “Do not worry, he will explain,” he says quietly, a hand on Morty’s shoulder, while Rick retreats into the darkness of the room. “Can you send the android upstairs to entertain the family and we can grab some lunch?”

The bar stools of level fifteen’s sushi buffet are ornate antiques, fitted with plush velvet cushions and golden tassels. Morty doesn’t think much of them besides that they can spin, which he does playfully a few times before Birdperson sends him a serious look.

“Morty, I understand you may be… upset by finding your real grandfather hiding out underground, and you may feel inclined to jump to certain conclusions about this revelation - I advise you to hear him out,” Birdperson begins, choosing his words carefully. 

The sushi chef approaches from a backroom and bows to BP, beginning to attempt to converse with him in Japanese with such a tone Morty can tell they’re very familiar with each other. Birdperson reciprocates the bow and orders a few rolls, surprising Morty with his fluency in the language. When the chef turns expectantly towards the younger boy, Morty isn’t sure what to do.

“U-um,” he examines a menu in front of him but is disappointed by the Kanji script. “C-can I have a cream cheese roll please?”

The chef appears to smirk but nods, says “Of course,” in English with a thick accent, and begins preparing the food.

Morty turns back to BP. “What excuse does he have for getting rid of me with a decoy and abandoning the family for you and some stupid project?” he asks bitterly. “You gonna try and tell me he did it for my own good?”

Birdperson frowns. “Well- yes.”

Morty glares at him. “You guys are both so full of shit- I thought he was, was actually valuing me, l-like as a teammate instead of camouflage.” He balls his hands into fists. “W-we made so much progress since he f-first came, what, did he get tired of me?”

Birdperson does not seem adequately prepared for these accusations, but he does his best to soothe Morty. “I do not believe he ‘got tired’ of you, Morty. Rick is a man who loves very few. I have it on good authority that you are included in that small sample. I recognize it may be difficult to trust but please consider that his intentions were pure here.”

Morty shakes his head. “W-what, what were you guys even doing? You still haven’t told me,” he complains with arms crossed.

Birdperson sighs. “What do you think?”

Morty is silent.

“Seriously. I know you are a smart child, he speaks of it often. You know what would cause a disappearance like this.”

Morty stares at the tassels of his stool before suddenly blurting, “Why can’t I be part of that? I hate Rick Prime too!”

A soft-toned beep is heard as the elevator doors slide open, and Rick steps onto the shaggy carpet, now dressed in his usual attire and freshly showered, although his clothes seem more wrinkled than usual and his eyes still wear heavy bags. “H-hey Pers, Morty,” he addresses them quietly, walking over and taking a seat beside BP. “You already order?”

Birdperson nods. “Do not worry, I requested a roll of your favorite,” he says sweetly, resting a reassuring warm hand on Rick’s shaking one on the counter.

Rick smiles sheepishly. “Th-thanks.” He watches Morty carefully but does not acknowledge the tenderness in the interaction. He adopts an apologetic expression so convincing Morty is almost sure it’s real. “Look, kid. I’m sorry, you weren’t really- weren’t supposed to find out I was down there… I just. I didn’t want to corrupt you with this poisonous quest for revenge.”

Morty rolls his eyes. “Bullshit.”

Birdperson does not take this lightly, furrowing his brow immediately and opening his mouth to deliver a returning insult for Rick’s honor. Rick prevents this with a soft squeeze of his hand.

The sushi chef passes each individual a mouth-watering roll of sushi on fine china with medieval-esque illustrations of griffins and pegasi. He gestures to each one of them and names the dishes in incomprehensible Japanese, save for Morty’s, where he sounds ashamed to say the English words “cream cheese roll” out loud. Morty’s embarrassment does little to distract his anger.

Rick uses his fingers to place a piece in his mouth, smiling immediately and muttering something that roughly translates to, “Delicious as always, sir,” to the chef. Birdperson grimaces at him chewing with his mouth open so Rick does it intentionally more obnoxiously.

“Are- are you two on a date?” Morty stammers, blushing once he realizes he really asked the question, despite being half-joking.

Rick closes his mouth and swallows, his face stern, while BP playfully raises his eyebrows as if to ask “are we?” Rick clears his throat. “That’s n-none of your concern,” he replies curtly, to which Morty narrows his eyes. “Anyway. Morty. I- I didn’t, didn’t want you to find out I was still searching for Rick Prime. Don’t you see how it’s fucked me up?”

Morty shrugs noncommittally. 

“Why would I want that for you?”

“W-well, why would you want it for Birdperson?” he stammers.

Rick opens his mouth to answer, but Birdperson speaks instead. “That is different. Forgive me for sounding patronizing, but you must realize the extent of my loyalty and past with Rick goes far beyond your understanding. My presence here for Rick is a given.”

Morty isn’t quite sure how to respond to that. He mumbles something unintelligible and then turns to his food, clumsily fumbling with chopsticks and finally using his hands like Rick.

Rick smiles awkwardly at both of them. “Morty, I know what you’re thinking, and it isn’t true. You haven’t been replaced. Pers is here because…” he trails off momentarily. “Well, he’s like my safety net. It wouldn’t be fair for me to dump all this shit on you, look at me! I’m not… I’m not well, kid.” He admits the last part somewhat reluctantly, encouraged by Birdperson gently squeezing his hand. 

Morty sighs and picks at a piece of sushi, letting the rice stick to his finger. His shoulders deflate. The initial anger has died down and he doesn’t know what to say. It’s not like Rick hasn’t done worse. What was he thinking, that his grandfather had actually changed? Forget about being the smartest man in the universe, Rick is the biggest asshole in the universe, Morty should have realized something was up the moment he started treating his grandson like a real person. Morty’s stomach twists in a knot. How stupid did he have to be to not get it? Why was he never suspicious? Sure, he wanted to believe it was real but seriously, maybe he deserved being left behind if he couldn’t even tell his dickhead grandpa apart from an artificial replica built under the garage.

“Morty?” Rick reaches across the table for his hand and Morty flinches away, reflexes built from extensive experience with hostile entities. “H-hey, chill out,” Rick snaps.

“Sorry,” Morty murmurs, feeling a little spacey. He glances around the room to remind himself where he is; it’s difficult in such an unfamiliar place, with no windows. The general architecture and decor are out of the ordinary and do not help calm his nerves. He chooses to concentrate on a flickering candle with a sweet, subtly vanilla spice scent. Morty inhales deeply, focusing on the candle’s aroma, ignoring how Rick and Birdperson exchange worried glances.

Tentatively, Birdperson breaks the silence. “Are you okay?” he asks gently.

Morty forces a smile. “Y-yeah, I am. Just… pr-processing things,” he manages to say.

Rick’s face sours slightly and he looks down, clenching his hands into fists, jagged fingernails digging into tender skin. Birdperson notices out of the corner of his eye, and he frowns, about to say something, before a strange eerie chirping sound is heard.

“Uh… Rick, do you have a monster contained on the same level as your sushi restaurant?” Morty asks nervously.

Birdperson chuckles and reaches for his belt, where he removes a device attached. “No, no, do not worry Mortimer.” Morty stifles a laugh at his unabbreviated first name, which Birdperson doesn’t appear to notice. “It is only my baby monitor,” he explains.

“Eh,” Rick remarks with a high tone. “‘ Baby ’ is a strong word. It’s his teensy beastie monitor,” Rick corrects. While his words seem sharply rude, Rick’s tone takes on an uncharacteristic inflection like a baby talking voice. Very endearing. It’s weird. 

“I will be back soon,” says Birdperson, rising from his stool. He nods respectfully to the sushi chef dozing in a chair behind the bar, shoves his last few pieces of sushi in his mouth and sets the chopsticks down, then leans down close to Rick’s face. “Er-” he awkwardly glances back at Morty, then Rick again. In a split second, he decides fuck it and kisses Rick briefly.

Rick blushes slightly, which does wonders for his pallor, helping him to look less like a corpse. He flashes BP a goofy grin before watching him depart through the elevator shaft - instead of riding in the elevator itself, Birdperson opens the doors manually and dives down the empty tunnel.

Morty dares eye contact with Rick, who hides his face behind thin fingers, before giving up. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he mutters bitterly.

Morty giggles. “S-so by ‘safety net’, y-you meant fuck buddy?” 

“Oh, fuck you!” Rick yells, perhaps a little too angrily. “S-sorry,” he whispers to the sushi chef regretfully. “What Pers and I have is more than that,” he growls to Morty. “Don’t be an asshole.”

“Profound words coming from you, Dick Sanchez,” Morty spits.

Rick huffs, tempted to remark how much he wishes BP were there to prevent him from strangling his grandson. “And you wonder why I wanted to fucking get away from you,” he growls under his breath, evidently crossing a line.

Morty gasps slightly. “Oh.” He rests his head in his hand. “Really?” His voice is quiet, suddenly drained and subdued.

“Fuck,” Rick whispers. “Of course not.”

Morty’s whole body feels like it’s shaking, like the world is collapsing. Rick got rid of him because he didn’t want him around anymore. Because he wasn’t good enough. Because he was replaceable. He chokes back a sob, sniffling somewhat.

Rick seems uneasy, conflicted about if he should offer physical comfort or space. He settles on sliding a seat closer to Morty. “Sorry. I went t-too far, okay?” he admits quietly. “That was mean, I shouldn’t have said it. You don’t- you don’t deserve to be treated like garbage, kid. That’s what I’ve been trying to spare you from.”

Morty wipes his face. “S-sorry.”

“What?” Rick nervously laughs. “N-no kid, you don’t need to apologize to me. Just know I shouldn’t have said that because it’s, it’s not true.” His body language broadcasts how uncomfortable he is with this level of honesty. “An-anyway,” he grabs a piece of Morty’s sushi. “I’m a little relieved you know now. I felt bad hiding it from you.”

Morty looks skeptical but nods. “I’m, I’m still mad at you, y’know.”

Rick shrugs. 

“You don’t care?”

He laughs. “I deserve it, why protest?” He takes another bite of his sushi. 

“S-so, will you include me in your search now?” Morty asks eagerly. 

Rick stops mid-chew, then swallows. “Er- M-Morty, I don’t think you really get it. Um… I’ll show you later.”

Morty remains unsatisfied by this answer but finds his thoughts distracted by the return of Birdperson, who pries open the elevator doors with a force that makes Rick cringe.

“Dear, please, use the button instead of opening it manually,” he urges. Based on the pre-existing dents and scratches of an otherwise new machine, Morty can tell this is an ongoing problem.

“I cannot. It is too dark in the shaft to find the internal button,” Birdperson explains.

Rick sighs and pulls out a notepad to scribble down yet another thing he needs to fix. He glares at BP for a second before the facade breaks and he laughs. “I’ll g-get the droid to fix the door once you stop breaking it,” he mutters.

Morty remains unused to the dynamic between his grandfather and this strange avian alien. Rick seems to take himself less seriously around BP, which is probably good for him mentally but certainly disconcerting to observers accustomed to seeing Rick as pretentious and spiteful. Morty watches Birdperson carefully, attempting to glean what he may have been attending to while he was gone, and is shocked to witness the second pair of wings pop out from BP’s back. Although they’re remarkably smaller, they bear the same speckled markings as Birdperson’s original pair.

Morty laughs. “S-so, your wings just retract?” he asks uncertainly.

Birdperson frowns in confusion and moves forward, where Morty is able to see the real cause of this anatomical anomaly - a young child of similar species, something of a bird/human hybrid, clinging to Birdperson’s back. When their eyes meet, the little girl puffs up like a startled cat and jumps off of her father’s back, spreading her wings with an adorably tiny but menacingly sharp dagger in hand and going in for the kill.

This impulsive murder attempt is stopped by Rick, who grabs the girl’s ankle while she’s gliding over before Morty’s even processed what’s happening. The mysterious birdchild seems to lack experience using her wings for flight, and once restrained she struggles in the air quite awkwardly before having to accept her failure and grab onto Rick so she doesn’t plummet to the floor.

Rick clicks his tongue and with considerable effort confiscates the dagger. “There there, beastie, I can make you a killable grandson,” Rick coos affectionately, as the little girl climbs from him to her father in a manner similar to a gecko.

Birdperson accepts her return without surprise and lets her take cover under a wing, where just her face peeks out to stick her tongue out at Morty. “I apologize for the assassination attempt, Morty,” BP says lightheartedly, in the way someone might say ‘sorry for butt-dialing you’ or apologize for bumping into you in line. 

“She’s just grumpy from her nap, aren’t you beastie!” Rick baby-talks, approaching the hiding fluffy birdchild and trying to coax her out. “C’mon, c’mon out, come see papa Rick!”

In an instant, the girl extends her hand with talon-like fingers and delivers a wicked scratch to Rick’s face. 

“Ah, Jesus, okay!” Rick puts up his hands in defeat, backing away again. “You win,” he mutters, eyes tearing up from the sting, he winces as the four distinct red lines pulse in pain. While Rick rifles through his pocket for a first aid salve that will heal the injury easily, Birdperson turns to Morty.

“It is… mm- how she says greets strangers,” he explains.

Morty raises his eyebrows. “But um- who even is she? What is she?” he asks. “And why is Rick talking to her like that ?” he adds, gesturing to his grandfather who’s now elbow-deep into Birdperson’s mass of feathers and offering the girl candy.

Birdperson hums slightly. “I thought he might have told you, but- Rick, stop digging in my feathers and finish your food, we have things to do,” Birdperson cuts himself off and orders Rick around casually.

Rick and the birdchild stick their tongues out at BP in perfect unison, but Rick at least does listen and goes back to his food, while the birdchild retreats into soft downy darkness.

Birdperson exhales and forces a smile, evidently displeased that after returning to Rick with his estranged daughter he was left raising two children. “As I was saying. Morty, this is my daughter. Product of my unfortunate pairing with the human girl you knew as Tammy. I was not aware of her existence until after Rick brought me back from the dead-”

“-He can do that?!”

“-Sometimes. Please, do not interrupt, I get enough of that from Rick,” BP laughs and Rick gives a murmur of affirmation. “After a relapse in your grandfather’s Prime hunt, I was called for assistance. I would not abandon her.”

Morty crosses his arms. “Oh, so he’s, he’s f-fine with a feral bird girl interfering with his work, but not his actually capable grandson? Sure, that makes me feel so much better.”

Birdperson smiles. “I am glad you understand.”

“That was sarcasm!”

“Ah.”

Rick laughs. “C’mon Pers, I’m done with brunch. Some date this was!” He stacks their respective plates, Morty’s leftovers on top, and sets them in a bin, bowing to the chef before turning away. 

“Ah, lovely,” responds BP. “Back to the search? I believe we were really onto something before the interruption.”

Rick looks awkward, chewing on his lip nervously. “Uh- Morty, the robot’s upstairs?”

Morty’s bitterness takes this as an opportunity to reignite, reminded what he’s mad about in the first place. “Y-yeah, your stupid robot’s entertaining your real family while you hide under the garage.”

Rick ignores this slight. “G-good, good good. Pers, er- do you mind if Morty tags along?”

Birdperson shrugs and the movement prompts birdchild to crawl out from her enclosure and hop onto Rick.

“Cool. Aw, hey beastie.” Rick does not protest the girl stretching his lab coat and puncturing the fabric with her razor-sharp talons. “C’mon Morty. Level ten.”

Upon entering the elevator, the party of four finds it a little too cramped for comfort, which is certainly at least partially the fault of half of them being over six feet tall. Rick did not build this passage with more than just himself in mind, and the close quarters prompt awkward feelings given the tenseness of Rick and Morty’s fight, while Birdperson is oblivious and enjoys the intimacy.

The nestling girl slides down Rick to stumble over to the buttons and eagerly presses the disco ball button. A seemingly hovering sphere drops from the ceiling and projects twisting constellations around the room as the advanced disco ball rotates to the sound of alien pop music. Morty stares at Rick like he’s a stranger.

“Sh-shut up. I had to add some features when they moved in,” he mutters defensively.

Morty wants to say something rude about this but finds himself too heart-warmed at the gesture to bring himself to it. He laughs and joins Birdchild in her impromptu dance.

The elevator dings and opens onto level ten, and as Rick steps foot onto the floor, lights automatically turn on, illuminating what initially looked like a cyber man cave into… a much larger cyber man cave. One wall is comprised entirely of various monitors, computers running algorithms, and video recordings of the elusive Prime. Another station 3D prints flesh takes samples off of it and then incinerates the original sample. Morty does not see how that could be helpful at all.

Birdchild launches herself off of Morty and out of the elevator to half fly-half glide into the room into a cute playpen, upon landing she begins playing with some Rick plushes scattered around, notable by the hue of their hair being a much deeper blue. 

“Oh, she is cute. Sweetie, try not to tear their heads off this time!” Birdperson calls, his voice beaming with pride. “Rick. How do we include Morty in this?”

Morty hates being talked about like this - like he’s not actually right there. Would it really kill them to directly include him in the conversation? He’s no longer the lame incompetent sidekick.

Once he returned to the dark space surrounded by his mortal enemy, Rick’s eyes reclaimed that exhausted depression that had haunted Morty when he first found him here. His voice holds that solid hollowness, “self-assured desolation” is what Beth calls it in sessions with Dr. Wong. He does not seem to process BP’s question until Pers brushes his hand gently. “-Oh, y-yeah. Um. Morty, you don’t really wanna help with all this, right?”

Morty’s expression sours. “Why wouldn’t I? I can help, I can make a difference here, you- you gotta value my contri- contributions, Rick.”

Birdperson glances warily from Morty to Rick before putting comically large headphones on and directing his attention to a computer desk.

“Are you sure?” Rick asks quietly. “This is the most- the most painful thing I’ve ever had to deal with. I dunno if it would be fair to bring you into it, even if you’re asking for it.” He pushes Morty away.

Morty grabs his hand off his chest and clutches it tightly. “You knew I would want to be part of this, I can handle it. I promise.”

Rick groans and approaches a counter, shaking his bony hand out of Morty’s. “I didn’t hide this for my sake, it’s for yours. Think about it, kid, you were happy with Robot Rick. Why can’t you go back to that?” He uses a peculiarly shaped screwdriver to open the hull of a death-bot Morty vaguely recalls encountering last they saw Rick Prime.

“I was- I was happy because I thought it was real!” Morty shouts. Birdchild hisses in his direction. 

The split death-bot begins beeping at a high frequency, and Rick grabs Morty by the back of his shirt to pull him into a safe tube. The robot explodes after an automated fan disperses the smoke, and the tube lifts again.

Returning to his work, Rick bites his tongue, the sharp incisors cutting deep enough to draw blood. “What does that mean?” he murmurs softly. “You want me t-to, to abandon this? With all the progress I’ve made? I have a purpose, Morty!” his voice shakes with every word, unsteady anger tied together by desperation. “This matters! M-maybe not to you, but to me.” He removes a data chip embedded in the scorched remains and then moves away when it too beeps ominously. This explosion is smaller and contained by a shield coming out of the table.

“It matters more than me?” Morty asks in response. “More than your daughters upstairs, stuck believing a lie?”

“Don’t do that. Th-that’s not fair.”

“I’m not, I’m not stupid, R-Rick,” Morty reminds him.

“I didn’t say you were.” Rick grinds his teeth, finally removing a tiny USB-like disk. He marches over to the wall of monitors, Morty following close behind.

“You think I don’t know why you’re so bonded to BP’s kid?” Morty dares to ask.

“Fuck,” Rick breathes, seconds from plugging in the disk, and he pulls away. “Don’t go there.”

“Trying to keep her safe while you avenge your own little girl?”

Rick winces.

Morty sighs. “You don’t need to replace her, Rick. Your daughter’s memory is honored enough by you actually spending time with the Beth upstairs. You even have two of them! Stop blowing your family off to live out a fantasy.”

“It’s not a fantasy,” Rick growls. “If I can do this, it’ll- it’ll mean something.”

“Then let us help. Not just me, and not just Birdperson. Be a team player. Summer, Mom, Space Mom, they’re all here for you. And Dad can provide snacks, I-I guess.”

Rick glares at him. “That’s not- that’s not a good idea,” he murmurs, losing motivation in this fight. He longs for the flask hidden in a drawer across the room but knows he’s not allowed to drink around Birdchild.

“Why not?” Morty asks, his voice lit with fury and skepticism he shouldn’t be capable of. Too much emotion stuffed into measly words. His hand curls into a fist almost reflexively.

Rick plugs the disk into a specific outlet in a row of many. The wall of monitors, displaying the vast cosmos, changes on one tiny screen. A red dot. Rick’s breath hitches in his throat. “I…” His excitement is short-lived. Another dot, on the other side of the galaxy. And then another. Hundreds flicker onto the screens until the light cast shifts from cool blue to an angry red. “That’s why,” Rick mutters, wearing a look of utter defeat.

Morty frowns. “Is that- is that where he is? Which one is him?”

“Fuck, kid, they’re all him.” There’s the breaking point. Morty’s not sure where he’s aiming when he delivers the punch, a swinging fist with fury nearly too fast for Rick to recognize in time. Rick backsteps out of the way and Morty’s hand meets the screen that declared the first dot.

“Why must I always play medic for you humans?” murmurs Birdperson, plucking the glass from Morty’s bruised and bleeding hand. “You simply must learn to take better care of yourselves.”

Rick watches with his arms crossed, standing a few feet across from Birdperson. He bites his lip sympathetically when Morty winces as a larger shard is removed. “You- you don’t fuckin’ break stuff in my lab, kid,” he chides. “That’s like rule one.”

“I was mad.”

Birdperson smirks at Rick, always entertained by the similarities in the pair, he’s witnessed many a tantrum in this very lab. 

Rick sighs. “Eh, no harm done. Besides the monitor and your hand there - you think your mom will believe you scraped it bad while playing with the lightsaber?”

Morty rolls his eyes. “You just don’t wanna get the healing salve. It’s fine, BP can bandage it.”

Birdperson scoffs. “And I suppose I will have to fetch your tea and dry cleaning as well?” he remarks dryly, but obediently fitting Morty’s bleeding fingers with bandaids. 

Morty pulls away at the sharp stinging sensation of an alcohol wipe and Birdperson pulls his hand back.

“Hold still.” 

Rick stifles a laugh. He won’t lie to himself - it’s nice seeing his favorite people interact. They’ve never been too close and he enjoys witnessing these dutifully compartmentalized worlds overlap. Despite his frustration with this reveal of Prime’s whereabouts, he allows himself to enjoy Morty giggling while Birdperson tells him stupid puns.

There’s a firm tugging at his lab coat, and Rick looks down. His little beastie had silently snuck up on him, and she bares her teeth when her presence is acknowledged. Rick offers his arms to pick her up and she shakes her head vigorously - with so much enthusiasm her curly hair ends up wildly in her face. Evidently, she has not mastered the art of this sort of nonverbal communication.

“What’s up, kid?” Rick asks the child. 

Birdperson peers over. “What is the little junebug doing now?”

Morty frowns. “Wait, what did you call her?”

Birdperson blushes. “Junebug, it is a candy-like delicacy on my world. My favorite nickname for her - better than Rick calling her a beast.”

“Beast ie ,” Rick corrects lightheartedly, ruffling the girl’s hair with such affection Morty wishes he had been young enough to experience this sort of paternal love when they met.

“That.” BP nods. “Why?”

Morty glances from Rick to the birdchild and then to Pers. “That’s what Rick- or, not Rick, but the Rickbot called me,” he mutters.

Birdperson’s vision swivels hesitantly to Rick, a knowing gleam in his eyes. Rick responds with a glare that fades when Morty notices it, and Birdperson inexplicably makes urging motions with his eyebrows.

Rick groans, wrinkling his nose at Pers in a jokingly resentful expression. He pockets clenched fists into his labcoat and gingerly shakes Birdchild off of his leg, before sighing and meeting Morty’s eyes. “Look, okay - the um. The Rickbot situation might seem a little less dickish if I let you in on the fact that it - well, it wasn’t always a machine pulling the strings.”

Morty furrows his brow. “What does th-that even mean?”

Birdchild scurries over to her father and crawls up his leg after the rejection from Rick, and he accepts her curling up in his lap, lightly petting her hair and shaking his head at Rick like he’s going about this the wrong way.

Rick groans aloud and sits down on a storage box. “I was sometimes behind the wheel. Telling it what to say. When I-” he swallows. “ Missed you or whatever- ugh. Pers, I don’t really need to say this, do I?”

BP offers a sympathetic smile. “I think the boy deserves to know you were not entirely isolated from him… Morty, the kindness of Rickbot was not artificial. Most of it was this Rick, taking advantage of the distance between you two to treat you well.” Morty shakes his head in disbelief like a lame prank’s been pulled on him. It’s much easier to see his grandfather as a selfish asshole than a three-dimensional person. “Wh-whatever.”

Rick opens his mouth to say something condescending but catches BP’s disapproving eye. Another time. He sighs. “Yeah, whatever. We’re not getting anywhere with this Prime hunt, kid. I guess I can put it on the back burner for a bit, maybe. It’s hard to search the galaxy with a party of three and a child, and er- I can maybe do some of it remotely.”

Morty shrugs. This compromise is clearly not good enough for him but even the slightest effort on Rick’s part is evident of major change. He shoves his hands inside his pockets, wincing when the bandaged one stings at the force, and makes his way to the elevator, only to be stopped by its doors sliding open.

“I told you he’d be down here! I fuckin’ called it!” cheers Summer, emerging from the elevator with her mothers behind her. “Ugh, Morty you knew he was down here? And what’s Tammy’s ex doing here, he’s alive?”

Birdperson eyes the visitors warily, his daughter rushing to him to hide in his feathers. Rick exchanges a few nervous glances and a hesitant smile. “I-it’s okay Pers, beastie, these are friends,” he mutters.

Birdperson nods but remains unconvinced, a stoic posture and uneasy glare broadcasting his uncomfortableness to the room.

Domestic Beth takes a few moments to process the cyber man cave, before rolling her eyes. In an attitude Morty might never expect in season one, she laughs. “We found your Rick-bot, merry Christmas dad,” she remarks. “Wanna come up to dinner or should we leave you to… whatever this is?”

Rick bites his lip and stares intently at the floor, swallowing. 

Beth’s indifferent expression wavers for barely a millisecond. “Fine, leftovers will be in the fridge if you wanna send a droid or whatever.”

Space Beth, who hadn’t even left the elevator, arms crossed and frown pasted on, accepts the return of her companion with a momentary sympathetic smile. 

Rick’s heart pangs at how instantly they accept this betrayal, this newest chapter of deceit in a long book of him disappointing them. Of course, Morty was surprised, that kid never gives up on him. The rest of the family, though? Fuck, they’re not so delusional.

“Summer, you coming?” Space Beth asks, calling the teenager from her snooping.

“-Wait.” Rick grabs Summer’s arm as she sprints by, then immediately lets her go when she flinches. “Sorry. Reflexive. Um- yeah, Beth, Beth. Sum-Sum. We’ll come up for dinner.”

Morty grins and laughs a little to himself, and that slight expression of joy is enough to coax Birdchild out of her hiding place. She jumps onto Morty’s back and they head to the elevator.

In the cramped space, as the compartment shoots upwards to the surface, Rick’s muffled voice shouts, “You did WHAT to Rick-bot?!”

[folkloreguk]

French Class [6]

A/N: You guys might want to whack out your love song playlist for this one…I cried writing this BYE I'm posting this from my grave!!

genre: optional bias (m) x reader (f), fwb, f2l?, college!au, fuckboy!bias, nerd!reader, ANGST, smut

words: ~ 3.8 k

✽series masterlist✽

taglist (lmk if u wanna be added!): @lovely-ateez, @runaway-fics, @mainexiii, @awfullytiredbuthealing, @erikyoong, @etherealuv, @staysuki, @justcuz-ican, @yeostars, @hyuckthangs, @teenloves, @mexious18-blog, @sunghoonied, @mailobjaeyoon

couldn’t tag: @chorizoek

You: can I come over? I kind of need u

H/N: you need me huh…you’re lucky I’m home alone

It always starts differently. Some other question, or a subtle message of telling him you’re bored, or a flat-out confession of being horny. The ending is always the same. You, naked in his bed. You just had to get there, and things were easy when you were already on his dorm’s doorstep.

The moment he had opened the door, you had fistfuls of his hair between your fingers and attacked his mouth in a feverish kiss. He made a noise between a laugh and surprise but reacted quickly. His lips parted right away, letting you in, and you tasted mint from the chewing gum he liked so much.

“Let me- at least- close the door,” he mumbled. “Jeez, what’s gotten into you today?”

You stepped aside and mirrored his grin. He was acting surprised, but the way he instantly locked your lips after he had shut the door told you he was enjoying this as much as you were. You ran your hands down his torso and along the side of his thighs. His happy hum only poured oil into the fire, and you saw no reason as to why you should have kept your clothes on any longer. In minutes, in the middle of heated kisses and clumsy chuckles, your clothes were discarded, and you were left in your underwear. You stumbled into his bedroom in a tangle of arms and legs and heads barely pulling apart.

“Will you tell me about the date you had today or are we skipping over that part?” he asked, as he pushed you down by the shoulders onto his bed. You groaned a little, not even knowing where to start.

“Didn’t go well, huh?” he asked. Only a few nights ago you had consoled him after his failed date, now the roles were reversed.

“That’s one way to put it,” you said. He was climbing on top of you now, and the weight of him between your thighs still did the same things to you it had done the first time. There was one of his random playlists playing quietly from the speakers, but you were both too occupied to even consider switching the music off. You weren’t in the mood for a chat, not when he was biting and sucking bruises into your chest, pushing aside your bra just enough. But you knew he wasn’t going to let it go this easily.

“Tell me about it or I won’t take one more piece of clothing off your body,” he threatened. You shot him an are-you-serious-look while he only blinked at you innocently, like he was awaiting your response.

“Fine,” you groaned. “But hurry, now.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, before unclasping your bra and throwing it to the other side of the room. “Go ahead, I expect a story.”

You had rolled your eyes at him, but when he sucked on your nipple all of a sudden, and his tongue flicked over the sensitive bud ever so perfectly, your eyes moved to the back of your head involuntarily. And, before he could complain, you started to retell today’s events.

“Alright. First of all, he acted all gentleman-y. Pulling back my chair at the restaurant, letting me have a look at the menu first, letting me order first, asking me if I was okay with our seats because they were in the sunshine, or whether he should have requested we get a different in the shade table, blah, blah, blah.”

With the lewd noises he was making, kissing your chest and fumbling with your breasts, you almost wondered whether he was paying attention to you at all.

“I’m waiting for the plot twist,” he chuckled. “If he had been this great, you wouldn’t be in my bed right now, would you?” He was now on his way to your lower regions. Your breaths came out shaky when he gripped your hips with familiar fingertips and placed a few kisses there, right above the material of your underwear. Nonetheless, you had to continue your story.

“Oh, it’s coming,” you said. “Because I suspect, the only reason he was acting that way was to compensate. For the fact that he was an hour late.”

He stifled a laugh, and you slapped his head playfully. “It’s not funny! I stood outside that restaurant on a busy street like an idiot for an hour. During exam season!”

“I wonder, if studying is so special to you- ,” he said. He tugged on your underwear, and you barely cared about his words when you were already imagining his mouth on your pussy. “Why aren’t you at home right now, doing just that?”

“Too frustrated,” you groaned, spreading your legs, practically inviting him in. “You don’t get it. That was only the beginning of the date. It gets worse.”

“Oh, damn,” he laughed, and you were going to slap him again. Harder, this time. But his tongue kitten-licked over your clit and you didn’t dare interrupt him further.

“First of all, he turned out to be boring. An economics major. And look, I’m not generalizing, I’ve met some cool economics majors. But when I said I never really understood the whole thing with inflation and deflation, I wasn’t asking for him to explain it to me. I know what it means, I just meant to say money is the root of all evil,” you said, little moans slipping inbetween your sentences. He laughed whilst sipping on your clit. You couldn’t be mad at his laughing anymore. In fact, at the sound of his chuckles, your own lips curled into a smile, too. God, he was so good with his tongue.

“But turns out he loved money. Like it was the sole reason he was doing anything. When he showed me his gold watch I almost yawned,” you continued.

“Dating a rich guy can have its upsides too, though,” he said, but you knew he was joking. He was running the tips of his fingers over your core, and you whimpered at how badly you wanted him to put them inside of you. You loved watching him, loved feeling his hair tickle the side of your thighs and having his free hand laying on top of your hipbone. The familiarity of it all, his little habits, made your heart heavy, so full of emotion, all of a sudden. But you had to snap out of it.

“Not this guy. He kept saying these lowkey sexist things I won’t repeat now. It’ll only make me mad again. He was one of those who thought money would buy him a girlfriend. And I was really trying to see the good in him…only there was none,” you said.

“Alright, I’m starting to understand why you needed some cheering up,” he said. “Good thing you’re at the right place. I know just the thing.”

At this, he slid his digits into you. You hummed and dropped your head into the plush pillow. Slowly, you exhaled, happy you finally got to relax after being so upset. But of course, he had to interrupt. Again.

“Did I say you could stop? Was that the end of the story?” he said. How did he expect you to form a coherent sentence? He fingered you gently, but the slowness of it all only drove you crazier. You felt every tiny sensation, every new bit of you he touched.

“No,” you sulked. “Fuck, it feels so good.”

“Go on, then,” he encouraged you, grinning because he was proud of your reaction he had caused.

“Fuck- okay. He was super shitty to the waiter. I’m talking about criticizing everything. This man had the audacity to complain about the food. I’m not a food critic, but I swear the food was amazing, there was nothing to fault at all,” you said, and then whined when he switched from licking your clit to sucking it between his teeth. You knew he was doing this on purpose. To make speaking harder for you.

“Oh my god, H/N. Wait, let me finish this. Not only was he horrible to the waiter in person, but he also made fun of the waiter’s appearance behind his back. And all along he expected me to find him funny. I used to think he had a sense of humor but not after today. Blech.”

“At least you got a free dinner?” he said, and without awaiting your answer, went back to work. Your head was spinning in pleasure, and you could only laugh sarcastically at his suggestion.

“Yeah. And after that train wreck of a date, he really thought he’d get to stick his tongue down my throat,” you said.

“Did he at least ask permission?” asked the boy between your legs.

“Mhm…but I told him I don’t do that on the first date,” you said. “Safe to say there won’t be another date, though.”

He looked up now, laughing more than before. You grinned, mainly because the sight of him was so cute. He folded his hands on your belly and put his face down onto your skin to giggle. In no way could you be upset or urge him to keep giving you head. In fact, you had forgotten about all of that for a while, as he seemed to enjoy your misfortune a little too wildly. You should have been hungry, eager to have the half-naked boy inside of you. Yet, you laughed at the way his breaths tickled your stomach and when he finally made eye contact, it was a wholly different sort of hunger which overcame you. Instead of the heat he usually made you feel, it was a comfortable warmth that was in your chest. It reminded you of a bonfire or of drinking your favorite hot drink on a cool autumn day.

“I want to watch you come,” he said, casually. “Were you close?”

You were so lost in his trustworthy, dreamy eyes, you almost forgot to reply. Quickly, you nodded and hummed.

“I would have already come, had you not pestered me to tell you all the details of my date,” you said. The way his cheeks beamed when he smiled made you feel as if your insides were turning into mush.

“I’m sorry. I’m your friend, aren’t I allowed to ask how your day went?” he asked.

“Of course you are,” you said. The word ‘friend’ echoed off every wall in your head until you wished you could have deleted it from the dictionary.

“I’ll make sure it feels extra good now,” he said, kissing your stomach. You shivered as you watched his gentle lips move lower, to your hips and the insides of your thighs. The touch felt like butterfly wings on your skin, and the tardiness of it made you impatient. When his tongue came in contact with your clit again, you sucked in a breath of surprise.

He tried to start slowly, but then you gripped his hair tightly, and carefully pushed him further. It was something you did often, a way to tell him you wanted more without having to use words. After all this time, he understood perfectly. Your clit was between his lips and his tongue flicked over the sensitive bundle of nerves with just the right amount of pleasure. It felt incredible, creating a funny sensation in the pit of your stomach. His fingers grazed over your slit until you were whimpering and shifting your hips, trying to make him hurry.

One of his digits slid into you easily, curling against your sweet spot, and it hit you only now how much you had missed him between your legs since he had stopped a few minutes ago. It made you feel as though you were suddenly overwhelmed with all of him, but you were willing to let the heat crash over you if it meant you could be close to him.

“Am I making it up to you now?” he asked as he pulled away merely for a breath. “I’ll turn your day into a good one after all.”

In a different tone his words would have sounded like the exact thing one would have expected to hear from a fuckboy in the bedroom. He could have boasted and bragged endlessly about how great he was with his tongue and fingers – he would have been right – but he didn’t mean it like that. You could tell from the uprightness and the authenticity in his voice that he really was doing his best because he wanted to make you feel better and turn your day around. Because you were special to him. Or so you desperately hoped.

Your legs wrapped around his shoulders as if you were trapping him between your thighs. But he was right there, and he would gladly stay for so much longer, and to say it puzzled you was an understatement. The boy who belonged to everybody, who was known by all of the campus, was treating you like you were royalty, and not the other way around. You moaned, his name inevitably falling from your lips. He added another finger and the slightest stretch made you lose your mind for a split second.

“That guy could have never made you feel this good, could he?” he suddenly asked. Your initial response was a helpless whine. You had been so close, and his talking had interrupted the otherworldly bliss for a moment.

“No, never,” you then whimpered shortly. ‘No’ was such a tiny word. It could barely encapsule what you truly meant to say. Which was that it would have never even gotten that far. That other guys couldn’t even have you at all. They didn’t get their turn to try and beat him. Not as of lately, at least. That you didn’t so much as dare to think about sleeping with other guys. That even before you had gone on the date, you had known it wouldn’t lead to anything. No guy could let you develop an interest on him in the same way the boy between your legs had done it. No other would be able to kidnap your brain like that. H/N was always there. Even when it was only you and your sex toys, you would automatically pretend it was him getting you off. You were so far gone that it was embarrassing how long it had taken you to admit it to yourself. But it was a colossal thing to confess to him, and you would never do that. Rejection would hurt a billion times more than whatever it was you two had now.

Your heart was racing as you closed your eyes. You had been so lost in thought, it was wondrous you hadn’t fallen yet. But you were right on the edge, making your breaths come out like puffs and a string of moans and swears sound from your lips. He too had stopped talking, concentrating on the task at hand, and judging by the way your back arched he was doing one hell of a good job.

“Oh my god- “ you whimpered. “I’m so close, H/N.”

This time he didn’t reply, which was for the best. Only a few seconds passed until you started to quiver and whine beneath him. You were going to outer space behind your eyelids as your high rushed through you. Your fingers curled and tightened in his locks while your legs clenched around his head. He was quick to pull your thighs apart again, still not being finished. For long seconds you swam in pleasure, with nothing on your mind but bursting stars. He was heaven, knowing precisely how far he could take it until you were too sensitive to take any more.

When you were at that point, he finally pulled away and looked up at your crumpled form. There was a lazy smile playing in the corner of your lips and your vision was hazy after having had your eyes closed for a while. He climbed up your body until his chest was against yours so he could really look at you.

“I get all of this without ever having been on a single date with you? I’m so lucky,” he said. You only smiled at him, at a loss for words. What were you to say? The two of you were clearly past the awkward dating stage already.

“I’m lucky you let me come over all the time,” you said. “I would have expected the campus fuckboy to be busier. To not have an empty spot in his bed every night.”

“Ah, shut up,” he said. “I’d rather have you here than a girl I don’t know at all. Look, I’m really tired so I don’t know how this will go…but can I?” He was on his knees, a tent visible in his boxers. With a questioning look, he was tugging them down his legs now.

“Of course,” you said. As you watched him roll on a condom, your ears perked up. Did that song have to come on shuffle just now? The coziest, most romantic love song you adored so much? You knew if you looked him in the eyes you’d be done for. But there wasn’t anywhere else to look when he settled between your legs and held up his weight with his forearms. His eyes were deep enough for you to get lost within a second. Distracting yourself was impossible. The one last thing you could do was to reach between the two of you and guide his length into you.

The song’s chorus came on, you looked at him once again, and suddenly you were all his. You didn’t need to tell him so. He thrust gently, almost carefully, like he had never done it with you. Your heart hammered against your ribcage so vivaciously, you wondered whether it had turned autonomous and was now trying to jump out of your body, onto his skin and through it, so it could nestle next to his own heart.

Neither of you spoke. Yet, there had never been so much chemistry, such a heavy amount of uncommunicated emotions between the two of you. You were ready to hang on his every word, should he decide to speak up. In your head rampaged a billion sentiments you needed him to know, but there was no option to express them adequately. Perhaps there were simply no words in the English language to declare your feelings for him.

Small whimpers and moans left your lips only for him to hear. Sometimes he moved a little quicker, gifting you with the most perfect sounds he could make. And to know you were the cause for it sent you into overdrive. His mouth was right above yours. If you lifted your head slightly, you could have kissed his sweet, sweet lips. But you were so afraid. What would he think? You had never kissed him during sex. Not softly, like you wanted it so terribly.

Even worse, you craved so much more than that. You wanted to pull him in, envelope his mouth in your own, crawl over the edge of his lips and reside in his chest for safety. Because that’s what he was. Comfort. Reassurance. Home. How foolish you had been, pretending this little fling would lead to nothing more. You really had told yourself this would work. No feelings. Just fun. You couldn’t deny having fun with him. He was the best company you had ever known, and he had become your most precious friend quickly. It was as if you had only been waiting for the silly, flirty boy to sit across from you in the library and make weak advances towards you.

The love song tuned out slowly, replaced by something more sensual and sinful. In accordance with the new background noise, he gripped your hips a little meaner and went faster. You barely noticed how his breathing had sped up as he was getting closer to his orgasm. A trance had overcome you, transfixing you on his godlike features and how much it hurt to know you couldn’t call him yours. In your head you were made for each other. They always said to date your best friend, didn’t they? You could try to turn back time, go back to your first meeting place, at the party. See if things would turn out different. But you knew they wouldn’t. As much as your fear tried to suppress it – you would take the same path again, stumbling head-first into his arms and letting him into your life like a crashing wave of laughter and heart-crushing conversations.

Now you reflected in despair, how he had taken your heart in a storm, without having to try too hard. And worst of all, you were okay with it. Your heart was secure with him, you thought. The feelings yearned to be spoken out loud, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“You feel so good,” he said. “Always, so fucking good.”

He snapped his hips against yours, burying his cock deep inside of you and all you could muster was a hum of agreement. This is what you got for keeping him at arms-length from the beginning. Wasn’t it you who had challenged him to be friends and only that? Perhaps you would be okay, so long as no one else called him theirs either. You could go on like this, letting him use you for sexual relief and making him laugh when he needed it. Gladly, you would take the pain of not being allowed to love him with your whole being if it meant you could see him whenever you wanted. Exposing those silly emotions would wreck your friendship and you wouldn’t let it happen.

He grunted and only then, when he lowered his head into the crook of your neck and moaned your name, you realized he was reaching his high. Softly, you cradled his head in your hands, as if it was the last time you could hold him like this. When he put his forehead against yours, he had his eyes closed and his chest was moving steadier than before.

“You’re the best,” he whispered. “Stay the night?”

Should you have gone home, and missed him all night? Would you have regretted saying no while you curled up in bed with no Cheshire-cat-grin-boy to hold? Or were you to remain in his bed, and pray you would survive the torture of not speaking your mind? His skin radiated the most wonderful warmth and you wanted to trace his lips with your eyes until you fell asleep. That’s how quickly it was decided.

“Okay,” you answered.

[babblydrabbly]

Is it okay to request a second time? If not, simply delete lovely! No worries!

A game of 20 questions that ends with "Can I kiss you?" with Holder?

stephen holder x reader; general - warning: kissing, in fact

You sit idly beside Holder with a mug of coffee in your hands as the other diners eat and chat. You were next to him because you figured Linden would be arriving soon, but as ten minutes turned into twenty, you didn't know what to do with yourself as you waited.

But Holder doesn't seem perturbed. He grins lop-sidedly as he twists the rim of his own mug on the table with his long fingers.

"Alright, alright. Number eighteen." He finally says, sitting up straighter. He turned to face you in the narrow booth quite a few questions ago. "Who was your biggest crush in high school?"

You balk at that one.

You've both covered everything from favorite movie to least favorite sex position. But the mention of your shared past was something you've been avoiding.

It's been years since your recent reconnection with Stephen Holder. You were glad for it, because it only rekindled what you'd been missing all this time. You bite your lip and smile down at the formica table.

"Don't think I had one of those." You lie.

"Bull. Shit." He drawls, grinning. "Everybody knows you used to crush on that- that lacrosse motherfucker. What's his name. Duke?"

"Daniel."

"Y'see?" Stephen snaps his fingers triumphantly. He follows it with a scoff. "Daniel Wilcox. Lucky bastard."

You arch a brow. "Lucky?" You repeat. "Why lucky?"

Stephen glances over his cup at you as he busies himself with a sip instead of answering. His eyes are hazel and striking as they've always been, and you feel yourself unable to break his stare, as you always haven't. Like nothing's changed.

You may have told everyone you liked Daniel Wilcox once. But it hadn't always been the case.

Stephen shakes his head with a reserved smirk, like he's just considered something.

"Nah."

You turn to him. "No, not nah. Question nineteen. Why's he the lucky bastard?"

He throws his head back and laughs- a full, face-scrunching laugh. Your heart flutters.

"Oh snap, you got me, huh?" He mumbles behind a closed fist. He takes a breath and sweeps his gaze over the restaurant so as to not look at you.

"Cuz I, uh," Stephen's hesitancy surprises you and fills you with anticipation.

Say it. Oh please say it.

Finally, he turns those soft eyes to you. "Always wanted to be him...Your stupid lil' crush, I mean."

Your heart's practically soaring. You take your own sip of coffee to smother your flushed grin. You feel him shift across the tattered vinyl seat, long legs making room for the rest of his large body to draw closer.

When you glance back up, Stephen is bracketing your side. You have to crane your neck up just to see his face.

He stares back with that smile that makes you weak.

"Number twenty."

"...Yeah?"

"Can I kiss you, Y/n?"

The you from nearly fifteen years ago never would have imagined kissing Stephen Holder in some random diner, the taste of stale coffee and mint gum and everything perfectly Stephen behind it.

He turns the chaste touch of your lips into something deeper after awhile, mouth working until you feel the warm, tempting slip of his tongue across it. You forget about the other patrons as he curls his fingers around the nape of your neck, pulling the two of you closer.

And the way you let his tongue slide against yours makes the years of longing pour out with a quiet, shaky breath. Stephen's eyes flutter open when the two of you part, searching for the sound's meaning in your dazed expression.

The awkward cough somewhere behind you makes the two of you jump apart.

Linden stands at the end of the table, her smile suspiciously unsurprised.

"Sorry I'm late. I take it you two were catching up."

Drabble prompts ♡

[laineystein]

40 little things I love about Israel (AKA the Israel the media won’t show you):

1. Beach libraries! Bus stop libraries! Colorful, well stocked, pop up libraries everywhere!

2. In Israel, the swings at a playground are spaced in a circle (instead of a line) so children can look at one another. It encourages interaction and community - very Jewish!

3. There were mice/bird issues in Israeli neighborhoods so the government released cats to combat the issue. When they realized it had gotten out of hand, vets started spay/neutering and vaccinating all of the stray cats so they’re all well taken care of.

4. There are flowers everywhere!

5. Beautiful graffiti! A lot of it uses the natural texture/shapes of structures to make art. So colorful!

6. A lot of neighborhood streets are themed. There’s a neighborhood in Ashdod that is named after strong Israeli women - my favorite!

7. The respect for the military. We give to those currently serving, we have holidays for those who have fallen in service, and our rehabilitation centers for those injured in service are top notch.

8. There is art - sculptures, mosaics, paintings - everywhere! We even turn useful things (benches, trash cans) into art. Or exercise equipment…like outside…at the beach. All art.

9. Makhtesh! (Mountains that were washed over with water causing them to collapse into themselves, causing massive crater-like valleys)

10. Trees! Someone is born? Plant a tree. Someone passes? Plant a tree. Just want to plant a tree? Plant a tree.

11. Promenades! Also referred to as “teyelet” in Hebrew. Pedestrians, bikes, flowers, cafes. Not sure where to go? Find the promenade and start walking. You’ll figure it out.

12. Jews are from all over the world - and they bring their food with them to Israel. Moroccan? Italian? Yemeni? Russian? Syrian? Slavic? Polish? German? French? Brazilian? Spanish? We have it ALL.

13. Similarly - Kosher? Pareve? Vegetarian? Vegan? Gluten-free? Israel’s restaurants typically have options for each and/or are very amenable to making changes when they can.

14. Super diverse geography! Mountains? Deserts? Beaches? Forests? Cold weather? Warm weather? YUP.

15. Public transportation is very efficient. You really don’t need a car. It’s also extremely affordable so there’s really no reason *not* to use it.

16. This one will blow your mind: religious tolerance! Does Israel have a lot of Jews? Sure! It also has Muslims, Christians, Atheists, etc. Israel prides itself on being very knowledgeable/aware/respectful of different religions and beliefs and caters toward each in the government, education, military, etc.

17. Museums! So. Many. Museums. Indoor, outdoor, UNDERWATER. All the museums!

18. Free in vitro-fertilization programs! (Healthcare in general is amazing)

19. There will be rosemary and sage that just grow wildly near the road? And you can pick it and cook with it? And we do? Often.

20. Such varied communities of Orthodox Jews. Hasidic Jews are such a small subset in the Orthodox community. They all have different traditions and appearances. It’s really wonderful.

21. Simchat Torah is a party in the streets. Honestly, all Jewish holidays just hit differently in Israel.

22. Salads. Colorful salads! Savory salads! Sweet salads! For those of you who are weary of Salad culture, Israel will change your mind. We eat salads at nearly every meal.

23. We have the best coffee. That’s it. We just do. (Our coffee and cafes are so good that Starbucks doesn’t survive in Israel. Who needs it?)

24. Lemonana. Or lemonade with mint. Just trust me.

25. The Dead Sea. Come see it/experience it before global warming makes it disappear!

26. Prisoners can vote in elections! We even have polling places in prisons to facilitate this. We actually put polling places in many places to ENCOURAGE voting by all Israelis.

27. The siren on Yom HaShoah. How the entire country of Israel comes to a stop no matter what they’re doing.

28. The views. There’s always a mountain you can stand on to see the ocean, the skyline, the desert.

29. There’s always new and old parts to cities and they somehow blend together really well. Israel is full of so much history and the Israeli people continue to build on that without disrespecting the past.

30. Sheirut Leumi AKA an alternative to compulsory military service that allows young Israelis to serve Israel in different ways ie. working at Independence Hall, explaining Israel’s history to tour groups, and any other visitors.

31. So many options to volunteer! Food pantries, hospitals, nursing homes - giving back to the community is a key tenet in Judaism and is common in Israel. (Our bus stops have monetary donation boxes!!)

32. The shuk aka the massive open-air market in Jerusalem. Google it. It’s magical. (There are a lot of shuks throughout Israel but the most well known and largest is in Jerusalem.)

33. Banks are like works of art? They’re architecturally stunning? It’s like being transported back in time. Even newer banks are built in older styles.

34. So many parks and botanical gardens. And they’re all FREE!!!

35. Halva. I could eat pounds of it.

36. The sunsets. Nothing compares.

37. Universities are fun to visit? All are welcome. They often have tours open to the public and they’re designed with that in mind.

38. Our money has braille on it! And we have a theatre that is dedicated entirely to the deaf and blind communities. How cool is that?

39. Light shows. We like to light up buildings and we hold events showcasing lit fountains and other light adorned structures. I don’t know but it’s a big thing.

40. Kosher everything! Kosher glue on stamps! Kosher food fed to animals at the zoo! Kosher McDonalds!

[pinkhairedlily]

[Open Your Mouth] Chapter 3 - O

See previous chapters here: AO3 | Tumblr

Summary: She downs her mimosa in one long drink and snaps her fingers. The television shuts blank, and she sashays her way to a room. It looks just like any other wall partition but it opens to an expansive study. It has a day bed on the side, a long table, and her most comfortable swivel chair. Metallic chairs are folded on the side for her clients.Taking up the rest of the space are shelves filled with her favorite books. In the middle, sandwiched by volumes of Crime and Punishment and Les Miserables are jars of teeth submerged in liquid, white, sparkly, well-maintained. On the other end of the wall is a chest box which also functions like a wide ottoman. Except that it isn’t. It’s a freezer for the meat she has yet to eat.

-xxxxxxx-

March 7, 2021, 12:03 PM

“Open your mouth please.” Her bright emerald irises pop out from her mask as she probes the inside of his mouth. Sasuke feels the metal tool scrape against his tooth on the lower left. His tongue is on the edge of making a clucking sound, but he winces from a sharp pain when she moves his tooth from front to back.

“It’s loose,” she confirms for him. He recognizes notes of jasmine in her proximity. “I can extract it for you now. You’ll just have to spend the rest of the day under pain killers.”

He dropped by her clinic during his lunch break, intending to take up her offer in the off chance that she accepts walk-ins.

Of course, it was situated on the 25th floor of one of Senju’s high rise buildings which houses their offshoot businesses in the medical field; one floor for every niche – a chiropractor on the tenth, a hair transplant on the 17th, herbal practitioners on the 20th.

Of course, the brunette receptionist with a very sharp eyeliner sent him away, and looked at him pointedly with visible annoyance when he brought up that the dentist offered the appointment herself. People often tell him he’s handsome, and he gets to use this pretty privilege during the conduct of cases sometimes. But people here are immune to his so-called stoic charm.

Of course, it’s probably because there are far richer, far more aristocratic clients than him that would have naturally made a beeline towards the beautiful dentist.

He clucks nonetheless, his tongue grazing against the cold metal. “Can you do it under thirty?”

“Rushing for an appointment?” She gets the syringe from her assistant and taps it on her delicate wrist.

“Vying if I could get ten more minutes for an ice cream.” Her hands are light and quick to inject the anesthesia in the surrounding gums. He hears her soft chuckle against her mask.

“Not the first time that someone did that move.” She hands him his cone with one scoop of mint chocolate.

“I’m not a fan of sweets if you should know,” he says. “Is strong arm strength needed for a dentist?” Two big bites from the top.

Sakura blushes with an intensity, he notes, and in contrast her actions – she shies away her gaze from his stare with her fingers devoid of any jewelry. “You’re as direct as everyone in your lot goes, huh?”

“Is the topic too morbid for you, Dr. Haruno?”

“I’m keeping tabs with the news but I forego the specifics.” She fiddles with her two scoops of double dutch in a small cup. “But to answer your question, you only need to have the right leverage, an accurate position, and a good angle to ease out the naughtiest of teeth. However, it’s really an advantage to have great arm strength. It can get tiring after the twelve noon patient.”

Sasuke finishes his ice cream in the next three bites, feeling nothing in his mouth, the anesthesia still kicking, but he can taste the blood mingle with the freshness of mint, a tinge of rust in the sweetness on his tongue. “You’re not as bothersome as everyone in your lot.”

She raises both of her eyebrows, not sure if she understands his underlying implications.

“Dr. Tsunade Senju and Dan Haruno, top billing general surgeons of the medical world.”

Her mouth opens to form a small and soundless oh. “Ah I’m sure you already snuffed most information about me – it goes that way, right? Ah? Not at all? – So the thing is….I’m not their legitimate daughter. I’m adopted.”

He didn’t have to snuff, these are all open information in the playground of the rich. “A stroke of luck to land on a high end and well managed orphanage.” Her immense wealth does not translate to jewelry, face jobs, and fancy lash lifts. On her breast pocket are three pilot coletos, an apple watch on her wrist, mid-budget choice of clothes, and comfortable white Nike sneakers to be later replaced with a good fit of block heels. When summed up, they barely make a dent out of her daily worth. The rest of the money must have been channeled to her clinic’s state of the art facilities.

“You could say that I struck gold with my circumstances since then.” She spoons out a big chunk of her ice cream.

“But not prior.” The sugar brown cone also disappears in his mouth, all the chewing done by only one side.

“Amnesia. I reportedly had a traumatic head injury when they found me.” Her pink locks drift to the side, her head tilted in expectation of his further prodding.

Sasuke twists the line to another direction, and he captures the quick change of her microexpression from subtle guarding to surprise. “Would it be possible to inject one strong dose of anesthesia to the full mouth and extract all teeth?”

“Enough to knock them unconscious,” she confirms.

And kill them without sound, Sasuke surmises. He stands up and taps his wristwatch. “My ten minutes with you is up. I take it my extraction procedure is free?”

“I’m sure you’ll afford the next one.” She continues to fiddle with her cup as she watches him go.

Sasuke halts in his exiting steps and looks back at Sakura like it’s an afterthought. “If you’d like a payment, a dinner wouldn’t be so bad.” He turns on his heels and doesn’t stop, he can hear a faint laughter behind his back.

-x-

March 10, 2021, 7:16 PM

“Did I keep you waiting?” He slides on the seat across her and takes in her body language as well as their milieu.

They agreed to meet at seven sharp but Kakashi had asked for another briefing from him so he was held back. Her soft expression, in all its exuding naivety, gives nothing away. “This place doesn’t have no reservations, Detective.”

“Just Sasuke,” he remarks. He clucks his tongue in appreciation. “A hole in the wall noodle place. You frequent this area?”

“A reminder that you gave me the green light to choose.” She’s dressed today in an olive sweatshirt tucked into a neat pair of trousers and velvet loafers – a right mix of classy and casual. “It’s my assistant’s go-to. He would always bring me the best-selling set after a grueling work day so I asked for an address.”

“Thanks for the consideration, Dr. Haruno,” he says. Their order arrives minutes after, and she flashes an apologetic smile. For ordering beforehand Frankly speaking, he expected her to bring him into a Michelin restaurant – one to boost her reputation and second to blanket her in safety of familiar breeds. Or maybe safety is much better in company of anonymity.

“Just Sakura.”

They finish two plates of dimsum and almost empty out the small bottle of chili oil, garlic, sesame, and soy sauce concoction. Sipping a glass of soy milk after a bounty feast, Sasuke reviews the facts again in his mind.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Sakura asks, finished with her drink.

“Give me a hundred bucks then.”

“How many coffee orders would those be worth?”

Sasuke smirks in spite of himself. He changes topics again, on to the mundane life of a Senju-Haruno heir.

“How is the case progressing by the way?”

He glances up and notes the curiosity and fear in her eyes. “Classified information.”

She leans, plates with crumbles and half-empty glasses in between, and tilts her head, her rose locks spilling from her back. “Will they come for me?”

An alarm ticks off somewhere in his mind. “What makes you think so?” They’ve only had one body so far with no other indication of a succeeding death.

He sees that she bites the inside of her mouth, and she fiddles again with the cutlery in front of her. “Maybe I’m just overthinking.”

About ten minutes later, he ushers her outside the rather dingy restaurant but when no car arrives to escort her back to her place, he encourages her to place an uber. He could ask her to ride with him but the mere implications are layered, and he’s not ready for that quite yet. She gives him a look when he opens the door to her uber, an unspoken question she is yet to articulate. When he gets nothing within seconds, he waves goodbye.

“Give me a text when you’re home,” he says although he shouldn’t have.

“It has been an interesting night,” she replies. “Detective.”

The car finally drives away, and he remains with the remnants of her jasmine scent.

-x-

March 13, 2021, 5:49 PM, The second body

“You are not going to release that profile,” the wife of Haru Kagoshi says. She also stands as the chief overseas director of Haru Light, Inc. “Are you insinuating that my husband fucked a gay man?”

“Fuck is a callous word. Watch your tone,” the CEO of Mingwa Industries warn. “Are you sure you’re on the right track?”

“With all due respect, Captain Yamato is the best we have in the country in the field of criminal profiling. He knows what he’s doing,” Asuma assures everyone.

“And are your detectives doing the proper work? Are you covering all fields?” the Mingwa COO pointedly looks at Sasuke. “Because as far as performance goes, you’re allowing that killer to cripple our economy by snuffing out the next best minds.”

Kakashi’s eyes roll in sync with Sasuke’s at the cripple our economy.

Yamato stands up and offers a cup of coffee at the recently widowed which she explicitly ignores. “We will not be identifying the gender of the killer, but we need to narrow it down to males. Of course, it’s up to the public how they will presume it is connected to the genital mutilation.”

“Fuck you,” the widow says. “You know we can cut off your institutional funding, right?”

Kakashi has started massaging his forehead, a sign that he is nearing his bullshit tolerance level. “Yes you can, but we have an annual appropriation from the government. And cutting off our resources won’t solve this case any faster.”

“-with your due respect,” Asuma adds, hoping to de-escalate the situation.

The grandfather CEO of Mingwa Industries scoffs. “We’ll just have to launch our individual investigation then. In case you might be intentionally sabotaging the progress of this case, isn’t that right, Uchiha Sasuke?”

The disdain in his voice when Uchiha rolls off his tongue is jarring and pointed. Sasuke smirks in defiance, willing to push these elites further to the edge of self-destruction. Years in a gray cubicle and thousands of meters walked in company to a reviewing mind, he found that money could get you somewhere – just not the finish line. “You’d better keep an eye out on me then.”

“What the fuck was that about?” Asuma sneers at the detective department after the white collars scampered off. “They are strong lobbyists backing powerful politicians. We shouldn’t be picking a fight with them.”

“He started it,” Sasuke points to Kakashi who shrugs.

“Anyway, Yamato and I will prepare to announce the profile to the media, just a vague description, and then we’ll work on a composite sketch based on these assumptions,” Kakashi pats Asuma’s shoulders. “Ease up. I’m sure Sasuke and his team are doing their best.”

“I’m not doubting an Uchiha, but I’m doubting the way your petty behaviors get in the process of investigation. Now get out and do your jobs.” The Chief Police retrieves a half-emptied pack of cigarettes and lights up a stick. “This job is giving me cancer.”

11:13 PM

She sips her third glass of mimosa as her eyes drift to the sound of her television. A big banner of breaking news is placed below with the caption authorities release a profile: a serial killer at hand?

She chuckles, almost spilling the cocktail on her fingers. She drifts closer to the screen and her nails stick on the necks of the silver-haired man and the man who she assumes is the criminal profiler.

“Authorities confirm that Armando Mingwa and Haru Kagoshi have been killed by the same person. Renowned profiler Captain Yamato reveals the breakdown of the suspect – male with a minimum height of 5’7, age from late 20s to early 30s, and frequents the high-end districts. When asked if we have a serial killer at large, the chief detective and the profiler neither confirmed nor deny.”

She downs her mimosa in one long drink and snaps her fingers. The television shuts blank, and she sashays her way to a room. It looks just like any other wall partition but it opens to an expansive study. It has a day bed on the side, a long table, and her most comfortable swivel chair. Metallic chairs are folded on the side for her clients.Taking up the rest of the space are shelves filled with her favorite books. In the middle, sandwiched by volumes of Crime and Punsihment and Les Miserables are jars of teeth submerged in liquid, white, sparkly, well-maintained.

On the other end of the wall is a chest box which also functions like a wide ottoman. Except that it isn’t. It’s a freezer for the meat she has yet to eat.

March 24, 2021, 1:10 PM

“So what was the dentist’s alibi?” Neji asks the sullen detective.

“He had a meditation class for each date – January 29 and February 27 – which runs for five hours. They time it with the moon cycles. I also called his teacher – she prefers to be called witch ­– and confirmed his attendance.” Sasuke clucks his tongue. “However, they are a class of 100. He can easily slip out when everyone else is closing their eyes and saying humbda dumda.”

He glances at the map on the wall, pins already on the dumpsites, and he zeroes in on the address smack in the middle. “And he can dump the body with his nondescript car and go back in again. Did you know he has three cars – a Tesla, Mercedes, and a black pick-up?”

Tenten carries a fresh pot of coffee to the table and stares at their evidence board. “I’m guessing it’s the same truck with the garbage ones – those going through the suburbs?”

Sasuke nods. “He says it’s for farming. He has a land on the rural side of the district.”

Jugo raises a brow. “That ends my snooping in with the golden spoons.”

“Not quite Jugo.” Neji fills himself a cup. “These people socialize in the same circles you know.”

Someone knocks on the open door of the room and raises a box of cake. “Delivery for you, Detective Uchiha.” The staff attempts to enter but Jugo raises a finger to stop her.

“Who’s it from?” Jugo asks. “It might be the killer.”

The staff scratches the back of her head. “I don’t think the killer is a beautiful pink-haired lady with green eyes.”

All heads turn curiously to Sasuke who gets the cake from the staff. “It’s my punishment.”

Tenten’s eyes narrow at the name on the card. Haruno Sakura. “How is it a punishment? She brought you – us – sweets.”

“She knows I hate sweets. Help yourself though.”

“So you’re dating?” Neji says it with disbelief. “How? You’re barely in the office and – oh my god, you’re skipping hours aren’t you!”

Jugo repeats the name over and over. “Fuck. You’re seeing the Haruno Sakura? She’s as recluse as the oddball heirs go, but I’ve only heard good things from her. I heard she’s very skilled with her hands. Experienced it yet, Uchiha?”

Sasuke kicks him in the shin as soon as he’s done talking. “Firsthand. A tooth on the lower left. Now shut up and get back to work.”

-x-

April 12, 2021, 6:17 AM, The third body

The team congregates in the morgue. Another body. Only this time, it was found on a ravine, some parts already devoured by wild animals.

“It’s Fugashi Imamu, current overseas director of Imamu Holdings,” the medical examiner tells them. “Same methods done but there’s more clotting on the crotch area, indicating his genital was mutilated while he was still alive.”

Jugo and Neji both groan inwardly.

“He has an eight-year old.” Tenten crosses her arms in front of her. “A math wizard.”

Sasuke closes his eyes, fending off the initial signs of a migraine. The cases kept piling, and they were nowhere close to a lead. “Can you estimate the date of death?”

“I wouldn’t know just yet with all the rigor mortis and animal attacks. But if we pattern this with the recent killings, and the body was dumped within the last two weeks, the killing must have taken place on the last week of March.”

11:13 AM

March 29, Sasuke thinks about the ME’s latest message. There must be a pattern for the dates of killings. And if there was, they are up against an intelligent killer, a methodical one. He must have a list of targets with a step by step process on how to approach and kill each one. He plans weeks ahead with several contingencies.

“Captain Yamato confirms the ME’s assumption. There really is a pattern,” Tenten tells the team. “Unfortunately, the information already reached the golden spoon team.”

Neji comes in with stacks of folders and notebooks. “Got all his stuff from his secretary. Seems like the bastard slept around or may have been just a bad boss, said she couldn’t be more than happy to live in a world rid of such filthy lolita creep – her words, not mine.”

They go through each page, jotting down relevant information. Sasuke, on the other hand, flips through a small wallet-sized planner. Jotted down on March 26 is veneers with Dr. Akugawa. He seems like the go-to dentist of the big shots. He goes further up the dates and there on March 6 is a name he doesn’t expect. Haruno Sakura.

“It’s true. His daughter had an appointment with me,” Sakura confirms over the phone. “But he also dropped by last year for a tooth extraction dislodged by a punch from his grandfather. Old money can be quite controlling.”

“Ah. Doesn’t he have a family dentist?” He taps his pen on his desk, tens of gears running through his mind.

“Told me his dentist was unavailable for an emergency procedure so he dropped by the one nearest his office.”

Sasuke looks at the time on his watch. “Did you have lunch yet?”

“I have an 11:30. But I can see you in 12.”

He gets there fifteen minutes before, and he flashes his badge to Laura who has grown accustomed to his lunch break visits. Nonetheless, her countenance makes apparent her dislike.

“Your cctv records please,” Sasuke tells her. It isn’t a request, Laura knows, so she leads him to the administrative room on the floor and instructs the staff to show the dates he mentions.

Kiyoko Imamu went there on March 6 with her mother and a helper. They backtrack until they find the date when Fugashi had an appointment. A 30-minute visit and he was quickly out.

“Does Dr. Haruno have other clinics? A private location for a niche clientele?” Sasuke asks.

Laura shakes her head. “Only this one, and she doesn’t accept house calls. She likes to concentrate her work in one place.”

He tells the staff to rewind the records on January 29, February 27, and March 29. Nothing was peculiar about Sakura’s body language, Sasuke notes. He commits all records in his memory and allows himself to be ushered out by Laura. They arrive to Sakura waiting at the receptionist’s desk.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” She asks him with a tilt in her head.

“Just right about now.” He offers an open arm to her which she links with hers. Her face immediately blooms in shades of red.

“We have mussel soup today and grilled mackerel. On the other hand, we also serve bolognese. Or do you have any other location in mind?”

“Your cafeteria’s menu sounds nice.”

They’re interrupted by Sasuke’s phone.

“Where are you?” Kakashi’s voice borders on the edge of frustration.

“Lunch,” Sasuke replies.

“Come back asap. The families had Jugo come in and take Akugawa for questioning.”

[dulce-pjm]

caffeine crush

word count: 4.3k 

genre: fluff, coffee shop!au

summary: all it took was one trip to the cafe to cement a friendship you never wanted. but it’s high time you fess up and call it all off. 

Yes, you’d picked up the habit last August, you’re certain. 

Classes had yet to start but, growing tired of your overbearing family, you decided to head back to campus a week or two early and get a head start while the university was still mostly empty. 

You didn’t exactly get a ton of work done, but those few weeks were relaxing. Cleansing, even. You spent your mornings wandering around campus and the surrounding area, soaking in the summer sun. Your afternoons were spent curled up in a comfy chair in the corner of the library, nose deep in a romance novel. You found yourself eating better, exploring the city and finding new activities and niche locations. At this point, you thought you would make an excellent tour guide if someone hired you. You knew nearly every corner of the blocks surrounding the university. You’d made it a game to leave no stone unturned, memorizing the storefronts and seeing what hole-in-the-wall restaurants and shops you would find next. 

You were playing just this game when you met Seokjin.

It’s not like you particularly liked coffee. It’s always been much too bitter for your taste. No amount of sugar or cream or pumpkin syrup made the drink worth it to you. 

But you set your personal preferences aside for the mission. How could you give coffee shop recommendations to your imaginary tour group if you’d never tried them out yourself?

And it was with that mentality that you tentatively stepped inside the near-hidden cafe, door chiming as you made your entrance. 

The minute you walked in, you fell in love with the atmosphere. The place was well ventilated and cool, perfect for someone like you who preferred to keep the thermostat at ‘obscenely low temperatures,’ as your sister would say. The walls were coated with muted mints and greens. Draping plants decorated the wooden shelves scattered across the far wall and the soft jazz playing over the speakers made you feel relaxed. A large chalkboard menu hung behind the counter, fresh flowers sat by the cash register. The smell of coffee grounds was undeniably comforting and potent, despite your general dislike for the drink. 

This place was perfect. You could imagine your friends applauding your efforts now, praising you for managing to stumble on such an amazing hideout, tucked away from the chaos of university campus yet still within easy walking distance. 

The cafe was almost completely empty, save for a couple about your age camped out at a corner table. You barely paid them any attention except to be jealous of their closeness as they giggled over something on the girl’s phone. 

You approached the counter, curiously vacant of any employees. You looked left, you looked right. But no one appeared. 

The couple, too absorbed in their own world, did nothing to aid you as you stood helpless in the middle of the abandoned store. You gave it a good ten seconds before you felt much too awkward standing here all alone and gave up, turning to leave. 

And just as you did, you heard a collection of scuffles coming from the back and a door swing open with a creak. 

“Oh, I am so sorry. One of our frothers broke and made a huge mess.” You spun around. And your jaw dropped. 

Before you stood the most godly man you’d ever seen. 

The first thing that caught your eye was tufts of soft lavender hair, shining under the cool vintage lights. His eyes were wide and dark and warm, making you shift on your feet when they focused on you. His shoulders were broad and wrapped in a thin, cream turtleneck despite the warm weather. You practically drooled when you caught sight of his lips, full and soft pink.

He looked just like every male romantic lead you’d read about in your spare time. A purple-haired prince charming. A knight in his shining, corporate-regulated apron. 

“Were you waiting long?” His friendly voice snapped you from your daze before your thoughts could roam further to his muscles and chest and-

“No, not at all.” Could he tell you’d just been ogling? You really hoped not. 

“Good, good.” He shoots you a relieved smile that has your knees shaking. “Well, what can I get for you?” 

Shit, he was pretty. The slope of his nose and jaw and the swell of his cheekbones looked like they’d been crafted by god himself. Not that you were particularly religious, but after this encounter, you mused that maybe one day you could be. 

You were already fantasizing about the future the two of you could forge together. Stolen kisses, cuddles by the tv, a cozy house full of little purple-haired kids. His pillowy soft lips looked awfully inviting. You wondered what it’d be like to lean onto the tips of your toes and press your lips on his, to run your fingers through his hair, to-

“Uh, is there something I can get for you?” 

Shit. You’d been caught red-handed. 

“Oh! Um... uh...” You couldn’t focus. The words on the menu were suddenly too blurry as your tunnel vision zoomed in on him and only him. “A latte! A latte is fine.”

Seokjin smiled sweetly, making your stomach flutter. 

“You got it! Just a sec.” He spun away, running back and forth between the different contraptions that look more like convoluted machines from a sci-fi movie than coffee-related appliances. 

You were still trying to collect yourself when his hand brushed yours as he passed your drink across the counter. A shiver ran unwelcomed down your spine. You barely managed to fork over a few bills when the man shook his head adamantly.

“I made you wait. This one’s on the house.”

God, he was hot and nice? How?

“Oh, thanks...” Your eyes found the small name tag pinned to his blue apron. “Seokjin.” He grinned, his eyes crinkling adorably. 

“Not a problem. See you around.” He said it like the two of you were friends and not strangers. Like he was going to miss you when you walked out the door. 

You felt his gaze on your back as you left the tiny shop, bells chiming as went. 

You knew you’d be coming back. 

And come back you did. 

You’d reasoned that it wasn’t because of Seokjin, no, of course not! You liked the cafe, it was quiet and there was plenty of room to study. 

Oh, who were you kidding? It was totally because of Seokjin. The cafe was nice, you guess, but you don’t even like coffee! Rather, you used your time spent in the shop half actually doing your work and half staring at Seokjin and letting your mind wander. It was a stress reliever, really. A guilty pleasure, to bask in his glory. 

It was a harmless habit. You got your work done and got to stare at an angel sent from heaven, and Seokjin had extra business bolstering his paycheck when you dragged your friends with you to camp out at the cafe. 

It was harmless. 

Until you’d spent the better part of four months somewhat stalking him and now he knew your face. 

So when a certain someone tapped you on the shoulder in January as you settled down for the first day of class, you really should have known this would happen. 

“Hi!” he’d exclaimed, taking the seat next to you before you could protest, not that you wanted to. “I didn’t know you were a student here.” 

It was Seokjin. Hot barista from the coffee shop, Seokjin. In your class. Talking directly to you. Except now, he’d traded his purple locks for warm brunette ones. It didn’t take away from his appeal at all though. It made him seem boyish and younger, suiting him well. 

“Oh, hi...” You were at a loss for words. Never in your life did you think that Seokjin attended your university, let alone would be taking the same classes as you. Wouldn’t you have seen him by now? How did this slip under your radar?

“Y/N, right?” His smile widened when you nodded, confirming his suspicions. 

The professor walked in a moment later, informing you all that the person next to you would be your partner for all projects for the rest of the semester. Your stomach dropped to the floor

And from then on, Seokjin was your friend. 

You’d done your best to fight it, to resist him but you were only pulled deeper and deeper. 

Before then, the line of acquaintanceship was defined, set in stone. You knew his name, sure, but only because of the context of the situation. You had no reason to talk to him, to know him. And he had no reason to remember you. 

But once he confirmed your name, claimed the seat next to you, expressed excitement at being your partner (because he’d seen how studious you were at the shop, he said- and what a lie that was), the line had been crossed and blurred. He made a point to smile at you every time you arrived to class, to ask you how your day was going and if you were planning on stopping by the cafe any time soon.

It didn’t take long, however, for fantasy Seokjin to crumble before your eyes. Your dashing prince charming turned out to actually be a gluttonous man-child. Long gone were the days of your innocent crush on him. No longer could you sit and daydream about his perfect self when you were watching him pig out on take-out dumplings and listening to the most cringe-worthy jokes you’d heard in your life. 

“So I was at this vegetarian restaurant, right?” You nodded, only half paying attention as you made final edits to your presentation on Nordic traditions. “And this girl comes up to me and starts to tell me how I’d done her so wrong and she was finally standing up for herself.” 

At that point you were interested, allowing yourself to watch his dramatics rather than your laptop screen. Was Seokjin secretly an asshole? A heart breaker? God, this couldn’t be farther from how you’d imagined him months ago. 

“But the thing is-” He paused, meeting your eyes to make sure you were fully paying attention, which you were. “I’d never even seen herbivore!”

A fully offended sound left your throat as Seokjin burst into squeaky, boisterous laughter at the disgusted expression on your face. 

You couldn’t even bring yourself to fake laugh. That joke was absolutely dreadful. 

See, this is normally when relationships- dating and friendship alike- started to go downhill for you. You were much too idealistic. You set certain expectations for anyone and everyone before you ever laid eyes on them. And when they didn’t meet those expectations, it was easy for you to lose interest. Once you realized that they weren’t the person you’d hoped they’d be, you realized you’d never really liked them at all. You’d just gotten too caught up in your head, too captivated by your own imagination to recognize that you were walking into something you didn’t want.  

Seokjin, though, was different. He’d been drastically far from your expectations, absolutely. But instead of that eventual feeling of self-directed bitterness and regret for setting yourself up for failure, you felt guilty. Overwhelmed with guilt and shame, actually. Even if he had an awful sense of humor, Seokjin was great. He was kind and charming and teasing and thoughtful and earnest. He was genuine. 

Yes, if there was one word to describe Seokjin, it was genuine. But if you had to add a few more words, they would be ‘too fucking nice.’

When you were about to be keeled over in the school’s bathroom, puking your brains out with the flu, it was Seokjin that had noticed you were feeling off and chased you down after class. He’d been the one to see how sick you were, to hold your hair while you were bent over the toilet, to take you to the doctor and bring you homemade soup for dinner. 

While you panicked about the project due in the next few days, Seokjin adamantly insisted that you rest and promised that he could take care of it for you. He was unwavering in his resolve and despite the guilt brewing in your stomach alongside the nausea, you almost let yourself think he was doing this just because he wanted to, not because it was his personality. 

You didn’t deserve him. Not his friendship, not his love, not his time. He’s out of your league. Hell, he’s playing a different sport entirely. What you were doing wasn’t fair. This friendship didn’t happen because you were genuinely nice like Seokjin. It happened because you were lonely and, frankly, thirsty.

So, while you’re taking your final exam for your class with Jin, you reach the conclusion that it’s time to fess up. To admit who you really are, what your motives were, the reason you kept coming back for coffee you didn’t like. And then you’d cut it off. Not that you think you’d have to. Seokjin would see just how crazy you were and then never speak to you again. Things would be right with the universe and you’d be guilt-free, if a little embarrassed. 

Your pencil hovers over the scantron and you consider that you probably should have spent all this time focusing on the exam and not your friendship’s impending doom. 

But this class had been nothing short of an easy A, so you decide to have a little faith in yourself that even you could choose the correct answers while your mind wandered elsewhere. 

Yes, this was the best option. It’s not like you were in love with Seokjin, missing his presence and smile the minute he walked out the door and admiring the way his laugh lit up a room. Seokjin wasn’t some unreachable fantasy. You wouldn’t be retreating to your room sobbing if he was suddenly gone. He was just a person. He was just Seokjin. You could let him go. He could realize what you really were.

Easy peasy. Right? 

When you shoulder your bag and trudge out of the exam room, Seokjin is waiting for you, despite finishing a few minutes earlier. He was much too nice to other people like that. He hasn’t quite noticed you yet, too absorbed in a conversation with a fellow classmate. You indulge in his objectively perfect features for what will likely be the last time, but you don’t let your imagination wander. You just take the moment to appreciate what is in front of you. 

“Oh, I don’t know, I’m pretty tired...” You note the awkward, apologetic smile on his face and wonder what they’d been talking about. In that moment, his eyes flicker to yours, immediately lighting up. “Oh, Y/N!” He shifts towards you, leaving the poor girl to flounder. While he smiles enthusiastically your way, your expression is almost completely neutral. The abandoned classmate looks back and forth between the two of you, trying to decipher your relationship. You sigh, internally scolding him for wasting his attention on you. 

“Hey, Jin.” You address him by the nickname you’ve heard his friends call him. He’d never explicitly told you to call him that, but when it accidentally slipped out one day, he smiled to himself and you added the name to your vocabulary.

“Well, how do you feel? It’s over!” You shrug, shifting the backpack you always carry to the other shoulder. 

“Not as good as you do, I’m sure.” Seokjin’s brows furrow curiously and cutely, not understanding where you’re going. “You’re graduating? I’m still stuck here another year.”

“Ahh, at least the semester’s over. You are coming to my graduation, right?” You shoot him a look saying something akin to, ‘are you stupid?’

“Of course I am. You’d never let me live it down if I didn’t.” Seokjin laughs but doesn’t argue. You realize the classmate from before is long gone. You’re not sure when she left. Good, now you can tell Seokjin what you’ve been meaning to. “Can I talk to you?”

“Aren’t we talking now?” You sigh, loosely crossing your arms. 

“You know what I mean, Seokjin.” Sensing your serious demeanor, Seokjin immediately drops his teasing smile, switching his expression to one laced with concern. 

“Yes, of course. My shift starts in half an hour, though. Can we talk on the way to the shop?” 

“Sure.” Perfect, actually. Walking side by side, you wouldn’t have to watch that soft smile turn into an expression of disgust when you admitted what you were about to. 

As the two of you walk across campus and into the city, you tell him everything. You tell him how the minute you saw him, you’d thought he was the hottest person you’d ever laid eyes upon. You tell him how you came back almost thrice a week just to stare and think about him. You tell him how you don’t even like coffee, but your frequent visits to the shop have made you dependent on caffeine. You tell him how you’d had a bit of a crush on him, no, on your fantasy version of him for months. You tell him you don’t feel like that now, that you just feel guilty that this friendship existed when it was all born from a lie, from a terrible habit you couldn’t seem to break. You tell him how fake you are.

“And you deserve better than that, than me. I’m sorry I dragged you along for so long. I shouldn’t have.” You haven’t looked at him once this whole time, too ashamed to clue yourself in to what he’s thinking. “I think that’s everything.” Seokjin stays silent for a few agonizing minutes as the scenery morphs from tall, brick lecture buildings and trees into a more urban environment filled with bustling streets and colorful displays in the store windows. 

“Can I ask a question?” You jump at his voice. You’re almost surprised he’s still here. 

“Yeah.” You nervously fidget with your backpack straps, still refusing to even glance his way. 

“When you actually got to know me better, were you disappointed?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he sounded nervous. Heat rises to your cheeks. Shit, you’d hurt his feelings, hadn’t you? Why couldn’t he just get mad or storm off to leave you in the dust? Did he think that you hated him? That you were tired of him and that’s why you were doing this? You had to make him understand. You are the problem, not him. God, why was this idiot so nice?

“What? No!” You’re frantic with worry. Maybe you were being too egotistical to think that your confession had hurt his self-image, but you were willing to take the risk. “You’re great, Seokjin. You’re sweet and thoughtful and funny- well, actually your humor could use some work -and perfect. You’re a great friend. It’s me who’s disappointing. You’ve never disappointed me, not once.”

If you could just tear your eyes from the sidewalk, you’d see that Seokjin was grinning from ear to ear, over-the-moon ecstatic your compliments. Neither of you has ever been great with words, so you hope your pep talk was enough and that his silence is a good sign. 

The skies have begun shifting away from bright and sunny to grey and cloudy. The air is thick and heavy, like it’s about to rain. Just your luck. You should have checked the weather channel this morning. 

“We have caffeinated drinks other than coffee on the menu, you know.” 

Really? You’d just confessed your most embarrassing secret and that’s all he had to say? You stumble over your words, not sure whether to be flustered (because you definitely didn’t know that) or frustrated at his unwavering good nature. 

“Oh.” You grow sheepish and pretend to find the dirt under your fingernails interesting. “I guess I had a hard time focusing back then.” Those days had long faded away. You didn’t crumble under his gaze anymore or struggle to form coherent sentences around him. He’d long lost his mystery. 

Then, Seokjin laughs. He laughs and he chuckles and giggles and you cringe. You want to crawl into a hole and never come back out. When other times you could find humor in the rambunctious sounds spilling from his lips, now it only felt jarring, like a smack in the face. He was laughing at you, at how much of a hopeless idiot you are. You suppose that was better than him feeling betrayed and never wanting to see you again. Though he hasn’t exactly ruled out the latter. 

This is what you wanted, this is what you wanted. 

You say nothing, consumed by your own bitterness, as Seokjin calms down. 

“You’re pretty stupid, Y/N.” Your face falls. 

You knew that. He didn’t have to tell you. 

You were stupid to keep showing up at the coffee shop like a lovestruck teenager. You were stupid to believe Seokjin was your friend or that he might have even enjoyed your presence. He was just too goddamn nice and you were too goddamn stupid.

As the two of you get within a few blocks of the cafe, Seokjin’s hand brushes against yours. 

“Oh, sorry.” You’re quick to yank it away, almost burned by his touch, but to your surprise, Seokjin chases after it, fastening his palm against yours and intertwining your fingers. 

What was he doing?

“What are you doing?” For the first time since you started your rambling, you look at Seokjin, gape at him. But the timing is poor and now he’s staring straight ahead, not giving you a passing glance. 

“Do you really think I would have given you free drinks and sat next to you in class and talked to you every day if I didn’t at least like you a little bit?” You’re rendered speechless, eyes bugging out of your head.  

“I- um...”

“For being an accounting major, you really are the densest person I know.” His tone is light despite his blatant insults. “Don’t you realize I had a little crush on you, too? I was so excited when I realized we were going to share a class, but you never gave me the time of day.”

Your mouth opens and closes but no words leave it, not unlike a fish. 

“I've nearly asked you out at least three times now, but I kept chickening out.” 

The entire world feels like it’s flipped upside down. It’s like gravity’s stopped working and your head is spinning and you’re dizzy and your heart as burst and Seokjin’s hand enveloping yours is the only thing keeping you from floating away into the sky. 

The revelation smacks you in the face. 

Seokjin’s a liar. Not as genuine as you’d thought, after all. 

While you spent a semester pretending you liked coffee when really you just thought Seokjin was hot, he’d spent the next pretending he was only interested in your friendship when he’d been harboring a crush on you. 

You struggle to contain the small smile on your face. Seokjin’s hand gently squeezes yours and lightning shoots up your skin and spine. 

Seokjin’s eyes finally meet yours as the two of you stare sheepishly at each other. His gaze flickers to your lips a few times and you openly ogle at his, but he doesn’t lean in. He simply lifts your entwined hands and smiles, a short breath leaving his nostrils in place of a chuckle. It’s content and peaceful. There’s no need for love declarations or romantic kisses. You think you could be happy here forever knowing Seokjin wants you by his side. 

The moment ends when a raindrop hits your nose, startling the hell out of you. 

While you’re disoriented, Seokjin laughs and tugs you into the shop, now only a few steps away. The place is rather busy for it being lunchtime, but Seokjin weaves the two of you through the throng, stopping by the staff door. 

He looks at you with slight mischief. 

“You know, since it’s raining, you should probably just stay in here. Don’t wanna catch a cold.” You want to scoff, tell him that’s ridiculous and that your dorm is only a few minutes away. But you swallow your retort and let him have his moment. 

“Good idea,” you agree solemnly with a nod. 

“Actually, you should probably just stay until I’m off my shift. You never know when the rain might pick up again.” This time, you can’t help but quirk a brow. 

“Because you’re planning to protect me from the rain? You don’t have a jacket either.” Seokjin gives an offended look, like you’d just insulted his pride. 

“No, it’s so we can get sick together. It’d be romantic.” You scrunch your nose. Having fevers and runny noses and gross coughs together? Doesn’t seem like an ideal first date. 

“Sounds romantic.”

“I’m glad you agree.” 

You’re staring at each other again, in your own little bubble, until a customer brushes against your shoulder and you’re reminded that Seokjin is technically on payroll right now. He has a similar realization and reluctantly releases your hand, blowing a kiss over his shoulder as he steps through the staff door. You roll your eyes, feigning embarrassment, but on the inside, you’re melting. 

You plop down in your self-assigned seat in the most well-ventilated part of the cafe that also has a very convenient view of your favorite barista. The semester’s over and you have no work to do, but you don’t mind, content to watch Seokjin work while mindlessly giggling when he shoots you winks in between orders. 

You don’t fantasize or wonder where this might go. You don’t think your imagination could come up with anything better than what’s in front of you. 

You do predict, however, that you’ll be spending many more hours cooped up in this little cafe. 

Old habits die hard, you suppose. 

[deliriousgeek]

She’s the Alpha (Owen Grady x Reader) .7

Masterlist:

Okay! Finally up to date! I’m so excited for chapter 8. Also, if you were expecting Owen and Yn meeting right away, my apologies. Yes this is a Owen x Yn fanfic buttt I really want to set up her position in the story. Don’t worry tho! Owen will be here very soon. So stay tuned! Enjoy <3

p.s. lemme know if you wanna be tagged :)

Chapter 7

My Apologies Ma’am

She couldn't believe her eyes. The monorail zoomed into the main part of the park. The ride started from the docs and passed all the way through a lush green forest, from there it went over a deep blue lake.

A lake?

(Y/n) had opted for a window seat. This way she could take in the gorgeous view of the tropical landscape. To say the island was beautiful would to be an understatement, it was absolutely breathtaking. (Y/n) almost entirely forgot the reason she was here.

You're not here to vacation, you're here to review.

Reprimanding herself (Y/n) pulled out her journal and began writing her discoveries. The park had a promising future. The main theme of the park, dinosaurs, had yet to be seen and visitors would still be enthralled with the landscape that served as a teasing preview of what was yet to come.

A light bustle of conversation filled the monorail once the conductor had announced over the PA system they would be entering the park. On Y/n's lap sat her journal, a gift from her father. (Y/n) tried to jot down the feelings and sights she was absorbing, but was slowly tuning out her thoughts as the PA system spoke.

Claire stood up at the head of the monorail and announced as the monorail went through the refurbished entrance gates. "Ladies and gentlemen welcome to, Jurassic World."

The gates opened and the monorail pushed through. A collective gasp of intrigue was heard through the cabin as the passengers got their first glimpse into the park. The monorail passed over a gorgeous deep blue lake that was said to hold one of the main attractions of the park, the mosasaurus. (Y/n) wrote down in her journal that having the monorail built just outside the mosasaurus exhibit, while being an aesthetically pleasing architect choice, may not have been the most passenger safety option. She also observed that overlooking the mosasaurus lagoon was the hotel and directly under the hotel was a beach. This beach, which was connected to the mosasaurus lagoon, was separated by two fences. Although the fences looked highly durable and built to keep the gigantic reptile from chomping on park goers, it didn't seem like the most viable plan. (Y/n) was sure to mention this to Mr. Masrani once they met.

Nit picking at first sight was not in (Y/n)'s personality, however, after hearing stories of the old unsuccessful park and their death count, she was not willing to over look any details.

The paleontologist side of her began to kick in and she was instantly intrigued by the creature lurking in the depths. How old was it? Was there only one? Did it hunt for itself? How deep was the pool?

Y/n would ask all these questions once she met with Mr. Masrani himself, which would be very soon.

The monorail had come to a slow halt and the passengers were directed off the vehicle into the hotel lobby. Claire was at the head of group announcing the schedule for the day.

"If you'll follow me," She smiled. "Your passes and wrist bands which give you access to the whole park will be in your room. Your rooms will be located on the 25th floor. My assistant Zora will be passing out room keys and numbers." A woman stepped out from behind one of the employee doors with cards in her hand, which she began to pass out accordingly.

Claire spoke again. "Once you receive your keys please feel free to head up to your room for a quick freshen up or roam the park if you wish. The meeting with Mr. Masrani will be held in the Apatosaurus Room in one hour. If you have any questions, I'm all ears." Her sentence ended with a business smile.

Y/n waited her turn for Zora to pass her the room key. After receiving the key and doing a once over of the group, y/n decided it was best to stay away for now and head up to her room.

Upon entering the luxurious hotel room Y/n was greeted with a wonderful view. She was greeted with the nicest scent of a freshly made hotel room which instantly soothed her body from the Isla Nublar heat. Once stepping in the room and shutting the door the AC began working wonders on cooling her heated skin. On top the queen sized bed that sat in the middle of the room laid a tray containing all the necessities for visiting the park. Her luggage was sitting in the corner the room near the entrance onto the veranda. A set of wide, brown-stained, rolling shutter doors blocked off her view from the rest of the park. Noticing the obstruction in her view she promptly set her bag on the bed, slipped off her shoes, and slid the doors open to the balcony.

With a short exhale of breath Y/n was astounded by the grandeur of the island. She could nearly see the entirety of the park. In her direct view the grand, green mountains served as a back drop for everything below. The Innovation Center stood like a beacon in the middle of everything. Leading to the Center was main street, full of shops, restaurants, bars, and things of that nature. To the sides of the street were enclosures, but for what she couldn't see. Observing the enclosures from a far wouldn't help her in determining an opinion on them. Y/n mentally noted that she would have to see those enclosures for herself. They seemed much too small, and Y/n hoped she was very wrong.

Letting her eyes roam over the deep, jungle green of the mountain terrain, Y/n saw a grey, out of place, building. It was nearly the color of rocks and probably could not be seen from the ground level. It was quite a distance away from the park and there were no monorail tracks leading to it. Y/n assumed it had something to do with the operations of the park and wondered if she could have a peak inside. A little digging into the park's business side wouldn't hurt. After all, that's what she was asked to do.

After letting the Costa Rican sun settle into her bones once more Y/n returned to her room, closing the door behind her. She checked her phone for the time and quickly donned herself with one of the passes on the bed and placed everything else in a purse she brought with her. Y/n unloaded only the necessities from her backpack into the purse. Heading to the bathroom of the suite Y/n did a once over in the mirror. Deciding the the humidity of the island was doing her hair no good she took it out of it's current state and redid it into a much more frizz-free style. Before heading out the door she briefly glanced in the mirror then, deeming her appearance business worthy she walked out the door in search of the conference room.

Y/n took the elevator down the lobby in which she asked a receptionist where the Apatosaurus Room was. After being given directions Y/n thanked the woman before heading a lounging area of the lobby. Checking the time again Y/n noted that there wasn't enough time to spare before the meeting to the explore the park. Although, there was time to jot down her first impressions of the it. Sitting down in the lounge area Y/n took her journal out from her purse and began to write.

She didn't write about the interior of the hotel or that there were not mints left on her pillow, but rather on the fact that when looking at the overall view of the park she was not impressed with the size of the enclosures she saw. Concern over powered the beauty of the park, though she did appreciate the island's well landscaped state it was not the reason she came. Concluding her writing with a note that said:

Opinion on enclosures will be revised after further inspection of park.

Y/n closed her journal and stood while placing it back in her purse. While Y/n's vision was occupied by securing her purse, her direction was veered into the path of the man walking opposite of her.  With a general sense of direction, lack of attention to his surroundings, and briskly paced walk, the man did not notice the woman slightly shifting into his path either. His focus was entirely absorbed in the files that he held and getting to his meeting on time. Before either of the two could register the collision, Y/n stumbling backwards until she was on the floor. This caused the man's head to snap up then back down to the woman on the floor.  Other passers by looked as well. The man's mouth moved quicker than his brain and before he knew it he was offering her a hand and an apology.

He helped her off the floor. "My apologies ma'am. I didn't see you there." When his eyes finally met hers he starred with an almost stunned gaze. Maybe it was the impact from their collision or the sincere gleam in her eyes, either way he nearly forgot how to breathe.

"Oh no sir, the fault is mine. I wasn’t looking where I was going." After dusting herself off and actually securing her purse she looked up and offered him a smile. "Sorry for the inconvenience. I'm in a rush." Noticing his lingering stare she cleared her throat, suddenly feeling like a display looked at through a glass.

Recovering from being stunned, he offered her a weak smile of his own. "I was too-” Realizing he was still late he closed the file, “-am too." He nodded his head. "Sorry again for knocking into you, ma’am. "

She nodded and replied swallowing thickly, her throat suddenly parched, "Right, I gotta go too. So sorry for bumping into you, bye." 

"Goodbye ma'am."

Then each walked their separate ways.

Pushing aside the uncomfortable interruption Y/n headed to the meeting. Approaching the halls that led to the conference rooms she began to prepare questions for Mr. Masrani in her head. If there was a time for questions she would be sure to ask them. Seeing a sign that read "Apatosaurus Room: 2:30 Meeting" next to a closed door Y/n made her way to the door, and walked in.

Who's the man? 👀

Lol, see ya next time

@littlegangrel @thebadassbitchqueen

[exactlydeafeningdeer]

The Best Drinking Glasses

When it comes to glassware, the sexier vessels — a coupe, a flute, a wineglass — seem to get all the glory. But a simple glass cup (which can be just as appropriate for juice, wine, iced coffee, or yes, a G&T) gets used more than any of those options — and is just as worthy of praise. Whether you’re in the market for a basic, stackable matching set or for something bolder to spruce up your dinner table, the choices are many. To help you in your search, we asked some of our favorite restaurant, beverage, and interior-design experts how they take their H2O (and more). Below, our 19 panelists recommend their favorite water glasses, including a few restaurant-grade styles sold in bulk (that you may want to go in on with a friend or two since you probably won’t need all 72). To make it easier to find what you’re looking for, we’ve categorized their picks by style and size.

Duralex’s Picardie glasses are a favorite among our panelists. It’s easy to see why: They are available in assorted sizes, so you’ll always have the right one at hand if someone wants water, juice, or a stiffer drink. More important, as Tracie Battle, a senior designer at online interior-design service Havenly, says, their “classic look will never go out of style.” She explains that they are made of thicker tempered glass, which “offers more durability and a more expensive look.” Hudson Wilder founder Conway Liao and author (and former Lucky Peach executive editor) Rachel Khong also swear by these glasses, with Khong saying that her set is “still going strong after many many years.” This 18-piece set includes three sizes and six glasses in each size.

Battle also recommends Libbey’s Polaris glasses for their “super-unique shape,” which has a rounded, weighted base that feels hefty while still being sleek. This set comes with eight drinking glasses and eight smaller rocks glasses, offering the best “bang for your buck, at just over $2 per glass,” she says. They’re BPA-free and dishwasher-safe, too.

This set of Dailyware Bodega glasses from Bormiolo Rocco — which includes eight shorter double wall insulated mug and eight taller highball glasses — is interior designer Katrina Hernandez’s choice. She uses the glasses in both her house in the country and her Brooklyn apartment. “They’re perfect for water or a cocktail. It’s a set of two sizes, but both are relatively shorter and more modern,” she says. Hernandez adds that they’re thin, but not “scary thin where you feel they could break in your hand at any moment.” She also appreciates the rounded edge of the lip as well. The Bodega is also a favorite style of Julie Mulligan, the owner and designer of cocktail lounge and restaurant Lot 15, because it’s “versatile and low maintenance but still chic.” She says that it’s “great for all kinds of home drinking and serving” and can even be used for displaying flowers. “They have a great smooth lip to drink from and the price is just right,” she adds.

If cabinet space is limited, shorter glasses may be the way to go. Both Liao and Amanda Spina, the general manager of Williamsburg’s Four Horsemen restaurant and Nightmoves bar, swear by these shorter, stackable glasses by Japanese company Toyo-Sasaki. “I always want precious, delicate, thin baking glassware at the restaurant, but it’s got to be strong enough to fall onto a rubber mat and not break,” says Spina. “And it must be stackable.” These glasses, which are each about four-inches high, tick all those boxes. “They’re a little more unique and contemporary than the ubiquitous Duralex,” she adds, “but just as practical.” Liao agrees, noting their stackable design makes these “perfect for New York apartments.”

Amazon sells Bormioli Rocco’s 12-ounce Bodega tumbler — which is roughly the same height as the Bodega double old-fashioned glass in the brand’s assorted set above — on its own in a 12-pack.

The CB2 Marta glass has a similar feel as the smaller Bodega glasses above, and comes recommended by Athena Calderone, the founder of lifestyle blog Eye Swoon. She likes that they have “clean, straight lines” and are “made of ultra-thin glass.” She also says that “the price is deceiving — they look and feel far more expensive than they really are,” adding that they’re “definitely a crazy-good bang for your buck.” Not to mention:“They look as good sitting around on the table as they do on open shelving, which is helpful because that’s what I have at home,” Calderone says. Interior and event designer Ken Fulk is also a fan.

Mullligan’s go-to “for something clean and classic,” are these tumblers from Duralex. She likes that these glasses are stackable, but more importantly, that “they’ve withstood the test of time in my home, which is no easy feat.” Made in France of tempered glass, they’re also dishwasher-, microwave-, and freezer-safe.

According to Mulligan, Libbey is “an industry standard for style and wearability in the design world.” The petite Esquire side glass water bottle is one of her all-time favorites, and she says that they’re great for the home but also in a restaurant setting. The thin glass, slightly curved shape, and weighted base make it a little more interesting than your standard, straight-sided water glass. Intended for the service industry, these glasses come in a case of 72, which is more than an average household will ever need. But if these appeal to you, consider splitting a case with a family member or friend (or several family members or friends). The cost-per-glass comes out to just a tad over a dollar, which honestly can’t be beat.

Instead of a glass with straight sides, maybe you’d prefer one that has a tapered V-shape. Paul Malvone, a co-founder of Boston Burger Company, says the style is better for stacking. “At the restaurant, we prefer a 9-ounce old fashioned Endeavor rocks glass,” he says. “They’re a little better-looking than a traditional drinking glass, and are versatile enough for water or a soft drink, or even a hard beverage.”

According to Spina, these roughly five-inch goblets “are billed as ‘wineglasses,’ but they’re really not the best for crystal wine glass cup because of their open shape.” What that shape is great for, though, is good-old H2O. “They happen to be perfect for water with lemon.” The shape and the fact that they’re made in Italy make them even more distinguished. (Pictured as a set of four, the price shown is for one glass.)

Shelley Kleyn Armistead, a partner at Gjelina Group who is in charge of the interior design and tableware at all of its restaurants, is a fan of these simple Riedel water glasses. “I love the silhouette,” she says. “At the restaurants, we actually use them for wine because there’s something about them that feels friendly and approachable, a contrast to how wine is so often served.” Of course, they also work beautifully for water. Not too big and not too small, “they feel like glasses that should be used for daily enjoyment,” as Armistead puts it.

Libbey’s highball Impressions glasses hold more fluid than the brand’s shorter Esquire glasses in the section above, but they have a similar curved look and come in a more reasonable quantity (a set of four as opposed to a case of 72). They’re recommended by Decorist interior designer Katy Byrne, who says they’re her top pick for an everyday glass water bottle. “It’s the perfect weight with an elegant detail that not only looks nice but provides the perfect grip spot,” she tells us.

“At home, I use these 12-ounce Collins glasses, which are tall and a handsome vessel for cocktails” says Nick Rancone, the owner of the Twin Cities–based Twist Davis Group of restaurants. While they’re nice enough for serving drinks like a Tom Collins, gin fizz, or even a mojito, Rancone likes these because “they’re multipurpose enough to use for just plain water, too. I like that it can do double or triple duty.”

These highballs from Luigi Bormiolo come recommended by Battle: “This set is minimal in style and works well for several different drinks, whether a simple glass of water or a mint mojito,” she says. Battle adds that they’re also a great choice if you have kids: “They are a more durable option without having to sacrifice the look of glass.”

If you’re looking for something even more durable, Battle says “this is an almost identical alternate to the Luigi Bormiolo Classico glass, but is made of an acrylic that is BPA, Phthalate, lead and latex free.” They’re another great option “if you want the look of glass but don’t want to run the risk of them shattering,” she adds. They’re also available in a smaller “double old fashioned” style and in a turquoise, which she thinks is “great for summer.”

This stackable highball glass is a favorite of Employees Only co-owner Igor Hadzismajlovic for its convenience. “We use the 9-ounce highball glass by Libbey at home, which is stackable, and is a must for a tiny New York apartment,” he says. “It’s actually the same glass we use at Employees Only, too. They’re thick enough to eliminate breakage, which is especially important for a glass that is most frequently used.”

Sustainable-living expert Danny Seo, the editor-in-chief of Naturally, Danny Seo magazine, loves these glasses that are made from 100-percent post-consumer recycled glass — or “the stuff you toss out in your recycling bin,” as he puts it. Seo adds that “the organic texture and shape lends well to pairing them with clean modern dinnerware.” And we think the slightly bulbous silhouette is a little more interesting than that of your standard highballs.

Anna Polonsky, founder of the food-focused strategy-and-design consultancy Polonsky & Friends, loves to set a dinner table with these drinking glasses. “Hudson Wilder really creates timeless tableware,” she says. “They stand out without being too much. The base makes them special, but they’re also hardy enough not to feel too precious.” She owns a set in amber, which you’ll have to wait till September to get. Or snag these with a just as beautiful smoke-color base now.

[apenapaperandadoofus]

What Disney character would the RFA members be?

Yessss! I actually love this so much, I adoreeee Disney 🥺 I’ll add V and Saeran too! Btw this is just my opinion!

Also I for some reason did way to much research on this? Like?? I dunno lmao I got super into it pfttt

And if you want to add some other characters and stuff, feel free to do so!

RFA+ V and Saeran as Disney characters:

Zen:

Ya boi it’s Flynn Rider! First of all, they’re both super flirty lmao, and it’s just, you cannot tell me that Zen isn’t Flynn like holy shit! They’re both ambitious, and when they care for someone they will do whatever they can to protect them. Both Flynn and Zen have sad pasts who make them who they are now, aaandddd! They also have different names! Just wanted to point that out lmao.

If he were to be another one I’d say Pirince Naveen, from Princess and the Frog. They’re both super playful, and want to have fun, and they also really care deeply for people close to them!

And to add another one: Aurora! Both of them are elegant and hopeless romantics!

Yoosung:

Our sweet child Yoosung is Anna from Frozen!

Both of them are sweethearts, and they really want to find someone they can spend the rest of their lives with! At the same time, even though they may be a bit naïve, they’re both pretty brave! I mean (spoiler for Yoosung’s Route) the poor boi literally got his eye hurt for MC, and no matter what he insisted on going to Mint Eye with Seven. Both of them also really care about family, and they’re super loyal to them and everyone around them.

Another thing, it’s that both Yoosung and Anna are super playful, and bubbly! So I honestly think Yoosung would just be Anna. Imagine him singing love is an open door tho, that’d be fucking adorableeeeee

Jaehee:

Tiana, from Princess and the Frog!

First of all, they’re both so similar with the work a little harder theme, like honestly that’s all they ever do! They’re both super workaholic, which may sometimes get in the way for spending time with family and friends. Both Tiana and Jaehee are super intelligent and strong women! And they’re always there to help their friends. Honestly Jaehee and Tiana are queens 👑

And they both are passionate with something to do with food! Jaehee with her coffee shop and Tiana with her restaurant, so I think they’re just super similar.

Jumin:

Alright listen! So when I was doing this I mostly do it on similarities on personality and such, and for Jumin both Belle and Jasmine seem the most similar

First of all, Jasmine! Both Jumin and Jasmine are in a role where they have to be the perfect heir. While Jasmine rebels against it in various ways, Jumin is more subtle about it. Whenever his father tries a new business idea because of a woman he met, Jumin firmly tells his father no. Even when Sarah Choi or whatever her name is (fuck herrrr lmao) is supposed to get married to him, Jumin yeets her and goes nope. They both care deeply about what they’re supposed to be ruling (?) over, Jumin with his company and Jasmine with her kingdom. And lastly, they both care deeply for their friends and family, and would do anything for them!

Now with Belle, Jumin loves reading. That’s a thing they have in common, and the both of them are super smart, and love learning about new things. Like Belle, he doesn’t have many friends, and is pretty confident, Iike our boy Jumin ;)

Saeyoung:

Peter Pan

But not the animated one, it’s the one we all had a crush on when it was like 2003, this Peter Pan:

It’s absolutely perfect. Both him and Peter are super playful, they like joking around and just you know, living the high life.

But at the same time they’re both scared of their feelings. At one point, when Peter Pan and Wendy are dancing (best scene ever btw) Wendy asks Peter about his feelings, and Peter yells that no, he doesn’t care about anyone’s feelings and that he has none. He tells her that in the end everything was pretend and he doesn’t want to grow up, or admit his feelings for Wendy.

It’s like when Saeyoung was pushing away the MC, so they wouldn’t catch feelings for him. He wants to ignore his emotions and he feels they are useless. Also the gif above it’s perfect for my sweet child it’s adorable lmao.

There’s also Aladdin, because they’re both playful but they can be serious at times!

V:

Now for our boy V! I choose Tarzan and Elsa! Now you may be wondering, Amanda, what the hell?

Well let me explain!

First of all Elsa! (Ignoring the whole Let It Go part of course lmao) Both Elsa and Jihyun have had super traumatic experiences. V with Rika, and Elsa with literally almost killing her sister. Due to that, they both isolate from their friends and loved ones, to protect them. Elsa to protect them from her power, and V does it to protect them from Rika and Mint Eye. They both only want the best for their loved ones, and they don’t care if they have to sacrifice themselves. Jihyun and Elsa are scared of hurting those around them, Jihyun doesn’t want anyone in the RFA to be involved with Rika, to get hurt. That’s why I think Elsa and V are just super similar. They both repress how much they’re suffering on the inside, and they are always the ones acting as a shield for the rest. (Also it’s part of perfect because Yoosung is Anna holy crap Frozen/Mystic Messenger au????)

Now for Tarzan, of course it’s not everything that’s similar, but one thing they have in common is that they care deeply for family, no matter what. Even when Tarzan is being shunned by gorilla dad (or Yoosung -oh damn-) because he says that he’s not part of the family, Tarzan still does whatever he can to protect them.

Saeran:

Now, since our boy is actually like 6 boys (Unknown, Ray, Suit, Saeran GE, Saeran SE, and Saran Judge and Forgive)

So I did the ones in another story and Saeran post SE!

Ray: So! Our boy Ray reminds me so much of Rapunzel from Tangled! Both Ray and Rapunzel are both being kept in a tower (Ray’s tower being Mint Eye.) They’re both smart and creative, and well, they’re loyal (except to Saeyoung lmao.) I feel like Ray is also pretty artistic (he made the cute little emojis for himself and everything, just adorableeeee.) I honestly totally forgot about a Disney character that doesn’t want to be abandoned (maybe Jessie?) because Ray is scared of other people leaving him.

Now Suit! He was my favorite to do :P

He is The Beast! First of all, they’re both hot headed and they’re mad all the time, but beneath all that, they’re both hurting and lonely. Honestly I need a freaking AU of Suit Saeran as the beast, they’re just so similar! Even though they may seem distant and grumpy, they care about the MC in the same way. When the beast saw that Belle was actually pretty sad and everything, he got her a room (I mean he did feel pretty sad you could see it in his little face :( ) and Saeran actually tries to postpone the MC’s Mint Eye ceremony because he actually cares a lot about them (awww)

And for GE Saeran: I just see him as Pocahontas. They’re both mature, kind and loving, but they still have a playful side to them. Also they both love nature, and they are pretty smart. Good Ending Saeran just reminds me so much of Pocahontas honestly, because Saeran can be serious when he needs to, but he is also pretty mischievous and playful (I love the call where he’s like “HA got you to say what I wanted lmao”)

And now, SE Saeran: He reminds me of Kristoff.

At the beginning of the film, Kristoff is actually pretty selfish, and is uninterested on Anna’s stuff lmao. He’s a loner, and pretty cold (you know that’s what ice does to you pft) but he actually cares deeply about his family and friends, and he does have an actual fun side to him! Saeran in the SE is a loner too, he mostly shuts himself off and doesn’t really like to socialize (me thoooo) but even though he acts distant and like he doesn’t give a fuck, Saeran actually does give a fuck. He secretly cares about MC, his brother and maybe even the RFA members, even if he doesn’t show it. He is also pretty cold, and fiesty.

Bonus:

Since Hamilton is on Disney+ now, technically they’re all Disney characters so here are the RFA members as Hamilton characters, like imagine if they were to do the musical this would be the roles they’d get (also I won’t elaborate on my choices pft) oh and for the MC’s here’s a little guide just in case lmao

MC 1: Brown hair, no eyes the one and only lmao

Mc 2: Blonde hair, (I feel like she’s a Karen but don’t tell her I said that)

MC 3: red curly hair, she’s actually pretty hot like wtffff

MC 4: short hair, she’s the one that would be done with everyone’s bs lmao

MC 5: the beautiful unicorn pony thing lmao

Now, Hamilton:

Hamilton: Zen

Aaron Burr: Jumin

John Laurens/ Phillip: Saeran

LAFAYETTE/Thomas Jefferson: Saeyoung, yes Saeyoung

HercULES MULLIGAN: I dunno, MC 5 probably pft

Angelica: Saeyoung once again (he FOUGHT for the role alright?)

Eliza: Yoosung

And Peggy: MC 1

George Washington: Jaehee (hell yeah)

Charles Lee (I’m a general WHEEE): Rika fuck her pft

James Maddison: MC 2

Mariah Reynolds: Saeyoung once again, it was supposed to be MC 3 but Saeyoung pulled some strings and became Mariah Reynolds at the last minute and when Zen finds out after the whole ‘Say No to This’ he is triggered and is about to kill him

James Reynolds: MC 4

And that’s all I remember for now lmao, hope you enjoyed it :D

[othersideoftheparadise]

Tampered [2/?]

Sam wilson X cis!fem!Reader

Warnings: 5k words, based on tfaws ( so spoilers), U.S.Agent, amateur writing.

I’m re-posting this again, because I accidentally deleted while creating masterlist. I’m writing something like this for the first time, so constructive criticism is appreciated.

You stayed seated in the restaurant nearby to Bucky’s apartment, waiting for him to go back home. You didn’t want to startle him. It had been a day or two ever since you arrived from DC, where it had taken half a day to track him down. Right now, you were hungry and gobbling down as much as you could, ignoring the weird glances as they walked down the street. It didn’t matter anyways because there were lesser people out on the streets during this time, of the night.

Staccato breaths. Fast paced steps.

Finishing your drink, you waved at him to catch his attention, as he walked passing over right by you. Placing down the money under one of the plates, you ran behind him.

“James! Bucky! Where are going? Is everything okay?”, catching his pace and kept your distance as to how he preferred it to be.

“Hey Y/N, you were not supposed to be here today.”, He somewhat seemed in middle of a dilemma rattling in his head and slowed down visibly. You didn’t want to impose him, all at once because he was in middle of something else.

“I’ll explain you once we reach the apartment. Deal?” He picked up speed nodding at you.

“Stay right here”, holding you right by your arm, he pushed you back abruptly few meters away from the front door, knocking it. Just like how he used to do, back in the day when you both were together in missions.

“Hey, what are you doing here? How was the date?”, you heard an older voice on the other side of the door. Bucky was visibly frozen, when he peeped into the little view of whatever the door opening could offer.

“It was…it was good”, he regained his composure as he saw you trying to step in, handing over the money. “Forgot that I owed you for lunch.” Walking away abruptly, to the apartment that you shared with him.

“Do you want to talk about it?”, drinking water as you leaned against the kitchen counter.

“No, it’s—it’s nothing,”- he continued glancing around the apartment, as he found pale mint green painted walls more interesting.

Okay.

“But what are you even doing here? Weren’t you supposed to be here tomorrow evening?” you turned around again to look at him.

“I–I broke up with him Bucky. I— “, “Come here, beanie.” he closed the distance in between and sweeping you into a chaste hug, as you buried your head into his shoulder wrapping your arms around him.

“So, you want to talk about it?”

No.

“I mean, Sam deserves the shield more than anyone else. I just don’t understand why he had to just give it away. He thinks he’s undeserving, I—I just don’t understand. I’ve known him for years… There is a reason why Steve gave it to him. Steve knows what it feels like to be someone who politically has to follow the government and not based on their own ideologies…”, You knew that you were rambling at this point.

“But, I just—I feel useless. Not being able to do anything. Not being able to help him out even if I want to.” You sighed as you pulled out from his embrace, holding him by his arms. “I just don’t understand Bucky.”, you felt him patting your head as you looked at him.

“Am I doing something wrong?”

“That is not up-to me to be honest. You need to take a break, lil’ bean.” He heaved a sigh as he went to the fridge for some drinks.

“I told you to stop calling me that”— “I can’t help it, it just slips out.”, Bucky would not talk about his day so you continued talking about yours, as you both were preparing to sleep.

You chuckled as you remembered Sam. “You know, I just remember the day when I met him. It was a bad day but turned better when I met him, Edna.” You were already missing him.

“Hey, I told you not to call me that.”

“AA-Anyways, coming back to the point. You used to snicker all the time, back in Wakanda right? I’m just going to say it however, whether you are going to like it or not.”

“Will you ever not let an old man sleep in peace?”

“No”, He shifts facing towards you, sighing exaggeratedly as you continue to speak.

“It was around 2014, when I was on run from S.H.E.I.L.D. I’m glad that I did. He is always selfless and has his heart on his sleeve. A-As he used to say, just slower than Steve. Our first meeting was so awkward, he looked like a cat, looking at a feather wand.”, You could feel yourself smiling.

You would never forget the look that Sam had on his face, when Steve and you accompanied an injured Nat, to his house. It took all the seriousness of the situation to not smile at his confused look right then and there.

“Barnes, I think that I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have broken up with him.”, there was a lot going on in your mind now, only to find Barnes fake snoring.

Ugh, never mind he hardly ever sleeps, he’ll fall asleep anyways.

Maybe you could have just made it clear that you were ready to be his friend again rather than blowing the entire aspect of being in contact with him out of the proportion, platonic or not. Whatever.

Things with Sarah were a bit better than with Sam, secret impromptu visits during missions when you were all injured up, taking turns to look after the kids when she was managing work from both the ends to keep the business afloat, her delicious homemade crawfish etouffee that had been passed down over generations.

She was one of the main reasons why you didn’t lose shit and were level headed all those years after the snap had happened. You owed it to her. You wanted to make sure that she didn’t drown in debts and loans anymore. The kids need not go through the same as you did, eat the stale potatoes, carrots and strawberries stored throughout the year, with no proper sleep and a routine before you were recruited by Natasha.

“Hey Happy, got a minute? I need your help.”

“Even though I never met him, he feels like a brother.” “Wow.”

Really? This now?

“James, are you ready? We can only reach on time, if we leave now. Otherwise, we’re gonna miss Sam.” Bucky kept staring at the television, with dazed eyes reflecting colors off the television dancing around him.

“Hey Buck,” you grasped him by his bicep, rubbing his arm. “We need to leave.” He nodded wiping his tears off with his thumb. You didn’t want to press in.

“I’m fine, I’m alright!”, he went to the door closing it.

You were nervous on your whole way to meet Sam, right after you made things awkward with him. Right, at this moment he needed you as a friend. You both had a really good friendship, before you two had hit off. You were the one to tell him that you liked him, you still could remember the amused expression on his face.

 “New Cap is back!” There were posters of John Walker all across walls of the base as you walked towards the ramp area, to get hold of Sam. You caught him staring at the posters as he jogged d own.

“You shouldn’t have given the shield.”

Bucky, no. Not right now.

Being a spy gave you many advantages such as in this situation, keeping a straight face.

“Good to see you too, Buck.”, he went straight ahead passing by you.

Honestly, you knew that you deserved it but you had to speak up.  “Sam, are you okay?” Both Bucky and you caught up.

“This is wrong”, Hmph. You knew that their banter would last forever. At this point, you were used to it. You had to talk to Sam, even his ignorance was making you angry. Instead, you went to Torres to get updated.

“Hey Torres, how are you feeling now? All better?”, you asked as he was filling out the paper-work. “OH- Hey, I’m feeling better now. It’s just a scratch”, you did not respond back, giving him a knowing smile. “Just take care and don’t be too reckless next time.”

You hesitated asking him, you only knew him for few months, but you almost had no one else to rely upon. All you did was take part in meetings, discuss if the intels were reliable or not, train for the missions and then go for it. You had stopped talking to people at this point. It was either Sam, Bucky or Torres and others, threading in for small conversations regarding missions.

“Hey Y/N, you okay?”, Huh? “Yeah-Yeah, look Torres, I just need you help. Can you look after Sam during the missions, just in case if he gets injured or something, you know?”, you stalled.

“O-Okay. but what about you? Aren’t you going to come anymore or what?”, Eh- talk about being awkward. “Um, I don’t think so.”, you trailed off looking at Bucky all suited up for the mission.

You definitely did not see this coming.

“Y/N, are you coming with us or not?”, of course, it was Bucky who asked you. You saw Sam adjusting straps of the wings attached. You didn’t want to feel sad about him ignoring you right now but he had every right to. You had to give him space.

“So, you’re coming. Okay, alright then.” You were more confused than ever before, but you caught upon. He was third wheeling now. Great. Dragging you in the quinjet by your arm, he shoved your mission backpack, with your suit in it. This idiot had it all planned. Wonderful.

“He needs us and you’re coming with me.” Eh. “I don’t think this is a good idea. I’m leaving”, You saw the quinjet door closing up. All you could do was to glare at Bucky as you stashed yourself in one of the sleeping bunkers, to change in.

Torres update you on the Flag smashers and on their connections across Eastern and Central Europe. He also mentioned that they were strong, agile and beastly. It didn’t take you time to put the pieces in together. How did they get hold of they get hold of it? Who else has access to the serum? Almost everyone you knew were dead or too old like Bucky. You were sure that you tracked down all the Hydra bases in the past five years, destroyed them and turned in almost each and every person associated in your list.  

Your head was pounding already. Who would have done this? You had taken advantage of the fact that the government that had been unified all over the world after the snap and had heavily relied on the Avengers. You made sure that you striked off everyone on your checklist. You were an assassin and spy Afterall. After all the things that they did and made you to do during your first few years of your life, they deserved it. You were handled guns and knives, instead of toys and puzzles to play.

Scrambling your thoughts, you knew what to focus upon getting hold of the serum to create medicines to outbreaks and diseases, just like how you had done before. You had to contact Fury regarding this.

“How much more time left to reach the lower drop zone Torres?” “Five minutes L/N.” Alright. You got all set up and walked out to the opening, strapping in the parachute. “I’ll see y’all in the rendezvous point.”

No one had to know but you still did it because, it had been a while. Once you were sure that no one could track you down after scanning the perimeter, you spread out your arms concentrated feeling the energy grow at the center. You could feel the specks of bursts, creating a halo energy surrounding your body. It made you feel better, stronger. It had been forever, ever-since you used it months ago.

You made sure that the energy veiled you, making you invisible as you landed down as quietly as possible using the energy from the chute that you had worn.

“Where were you all this time? I thought that you were here, already”, Sam questioned. “You look all fresh and crisp.”, It was more of a statement than a question. You gave him a questioning look and proceeded forward, following him.

“I got and vibration arm. I can take them.”, “And I can fly. Who gives a shit? Wait.” You wanted to laugh at their banter. “Can you both not talk for a moment and look out instead. We’re out numbered, if they are all super soldiers.”

“There’s an eighth person. I think they have a hostage.”

All three of you started chasing down, the trucks but they were not doing anything to stop you both and Sam who was way ahead.

“James, Sam, I think this is a trap, they’re not stopping us.” You ran picking up your speed with Bucky. “They have a hostage in there, Y/N. We got to rescue them.”

“James, we are literally running right into the open fire and they’re not even bothered to stop us, don’t you get it?”, He instead picked up speed getting into the truck where the hostage was. They still did not fire back at him, What the hell had this idiot gotten himself into?

This was like taking care of a two-year-old kid, wandering off into supermarket alleys.

“James, you idiot.”

You saw him swearing and being pulled up by people. You jumped on the truck with a thud, as he was struggling in by. Why was he even struggling in the first place? You needed to have your brain shut off. You saw them being tossed around like bags of flour from one truck to another.

You saw the girl approaching you, trying to hit you with a high blow as you dodged her blow and next thing that you found was you were lying on your stomach with the girl holding you down tightly. You were getting slow, before you knew you had a split lip, with metallic taste filling your mouth.

Pulling out your ankles, you pushed your body to your front creating gap in between, aiming at the girl’s stomach. Kicking the girl, she flung right onto the man approaching, knocking him down. Charging yourself at the men holding in Sam, you blocked their high blows yet again, charging at their vulnerable side, knocking him out of breath. You were controlling yourself as you did not want to use all your strength, killing him.  

“Looks like you guys could use some help.” , You heard someone yell as Sam was flung against the other super soldier holding him down. You kicked right at his abdomen knocking the guy out. Sam had amused look on his face. Bucky was holding the shield as if bounced off the target, seeing the shield once Steve held. Walker was putting up an impressive fight, against the flag smashers.

They were super soldiers; the U.S. Agent and Hoskins had no chance against them. Either of them was going to be severely injured. As Bucky was holding to one of the metal appendages, Sam signaled you to get off the vehicle, saying that he would handle Bucky. The next thing that you knew was, the U.S. Agent was being kicked off the roof. That was probably going to hurt. You had no reason to stay back, you jumped off the vehicle, with Bucky and Sam bickering all over again.

 You started walking down the as John Walker joined in. He was trying to make amends to form a group. You always knew where this would lead to. You thought that you were one of those people who never judged anyone, but here you were judging the man who looked like Steve. Him legitimately telling on hacking redwing and on how was indirectly showing his authority.

No wonder it was malfunctioning, whenever the military were repairing it.

The government had had a good PR for putting up a show like this, with Battlestar as Captain America’s black side kick.

U.S Agent was good, but based on his biography, he always had been in power. Unlike Steve, who was a scrawny little kid from Brooklyn as, Bucky would describe.

Good lord, stop comparing them.

U.S Agent was not enhanced, but he was ready to throw off the shield to save his friend’s life. He was a normal person and it was impressive seeing him fight and put up. You had no right to judge him but you were waiting for him to see his real side, once he was under pressure. This was just the beginning.

“It’d be a whole lot easier, if I had Cap’s wingmen on my side.”

Him calling both Bucky and Sam as Captain’s sidekicks, infuriated you more.  Neither Sam nor Bucky were Steve’s sidekick, they gave more priority to Steve and helped him out during hardest times. Something that no one would ever understand.  Steve always was dead-set on what he thought was right. It was never about him being Captain America and his authority.

“It is always that last line.” Sam was obviously heart broken. He scoffed as he got down, walking away.

“You had put up an impressive fight up there, Agent. There is one thing I would like to tell you is that, we’re all still grieving over Steve and you show up here, trying to make amends. No offense, it is not gonna work like that and for Falcon and the winter soldier, were never Captain America’s sidekicks.” You got off the van as you explained, it was not their fault.

“Agent L/N, mam, that was never our intention, I understand, it’s just that it would be better if we all fought together.” He was flipping around the situation. Why wouldn’t he understand. “Thanks for the ride, Agent.”, You started walking away. You were getting late.

“So, where are we going to eat? I’m hungry.” You signaled both Bucky and Sam to look at you as you communicated through sign-language, ‘You mentioned during all your missions that redwing was acting up. I think it is because they were trying to record. Manipulating a drone to transmit signal to more than one area, would make it all glitchy. They are tracking everything as we speak Sam, how did they know what you and Bucky were taking about.’

Both nodded in agreement. “Now common guys, where are we going now? Make up your mind.”

“I don’t know Y/N, it’s Bucky’s reign tonight, so he gets to choose.”, Sam was using sign language simultaneously signaling you that you would have to make him a new one again. Sign-language was something that you used often when you were on run, after the accords happened.

“I can’t believe you are saying this but whatever, I don’t care. I want to eat in all that greasy food,” You signaled him back saying back, ‘Don’t worry about it, I’ll take care.’

“No, I want to have spicy food in Indian restaurant, that is down the block, to the second right from the airport. No arguing.”, He eyes popped up, when he was signaling back, saying, ‘I’ll help you out, let me know.’

“Apparently, I’m going to sleep now, I’m exhausted.”, all three of you strolled around looking for the trackers and bugs finding, none. Once they were seated, you placed yourself behind the equipment’s box and laid out your palm as invisible energy grew out, scanning over the quinjet again. Finding one bug on the border of the floor, too camouflaged to notice. You showed it to them and stashed it into the equipment box.

Both Bucky and Sam had puzzled look on face but didn’t say anything. They were in midst of arguing on taking back the shield and so on. You would never understand, how tough it would be on them seeing someone else representing, what Steve had represented before. Bucky mentioned that they had to meet someone before.

“We are here to see Isiah.”, You all stood Infront of the porch of a small house that reminded you of Clint’s house. Apparently, Clint’s and Sarah’s houses were they only ones you properly knew about, a quiet life like this was what you always wanted.

“Tell him the guy from the bar in Goyang is here. He’ll know what that means.”, realization hit you like a ton of bricks. He was the Captain America, who was the most feared by HYDRA. “Bucky, --”, “I’ve to do this Y/N, just don’t interrupt in between. This is really important.”, He maintained eye-contact with you for solid five seconds, letting you know that he was sure.

“Isiah?”

Bucky introduced both of us to Isiah, it was awkward to say in the least. Seeing this legend in person was more intimidating that you ever thought that it would be.

“If by met, you mean I whopped your ass, then, yeah. We heard whispers he was on the peninsula, but everyone they sent after him, never came back. So, the U.S. military dropped me behind the line to go deal with him. I took half that metal arm in that fight in Goyang, but I see he’s managed to grow it back. I just wanted to see if he got the arm back. Or if he’d come to kill me.”

“I’m not a killer anymore.”, Bucky responded in certainty.

“You think you can wake up one day and decide who you want to be? It doesn’t work like that. Well, maybe it does for folks like you.” How could he say that?

“Do you really think that he did any of this under full conscious? How can you say that?”, you were in disbelief. Isiah looked at you but did not bother to respond back. You knew that you had to keep your mouth shut, to get work done here. Bucky tried explaining out to him on how there were super soldiers all over now.

“You and me.”, Isiah scoffed. You could visibly see the man tense up, as Bucky probed in.

“I’m not gonna talk about it anymore.”, he flung the metal box as it stuck to the wall across him. You were scared to be honest. You were seeing the legend right Infront of you. The confrontation had grown larger, resulting in kicking all of you outside the house.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Isaiah? How could nobody bring him up? I asked you a question, Bucky.”, you held your head low as you three walked down the road.

“Bucky, why didn’t you tell me beforehand that we were going to meet Isiah!”, Sam asked him further to gain insight.

“So, you’re telling me that there was a black Super Soldier decades ago and nobody knew about it?”, Sam asked in disbelief, as you heard sirens blaring.

“What’s up, man?”, Sam was confused

“Is there a problem here?”, police were enquiring. You knew where this would lead to. “No, we’re just talking.”, Sam explained back.

“We’re fine.”, Bucky assured them.

“Can I see both your IDs?”, the officer said pointing out both at Sam and you.

“I don’t have ID. Why?”, the officer kept picking up on Sam and you as he approached you.

“Give him your ID so we can leave.” You’ve got to be fucking kidding me

“No.” both of us simultaneously responded back. Not today. You were tired of being treated this way. People calling out as you walked down the streets, yelling you to go back to your own country. This was the real world. You realised that privilege was a real thing because, this was one of the closest encounters that you ever had.

Next thing that you knew was Bucky was being arrested for skipping the therapy.  You were drained at this point.

“Hey you okay?”, Sam asked looking concerned.

“I am, I am.”, you replied. “I’m sorry Sam. I’m really sorry that I misjudged your actions when you gave up the shield. I only looked from Steve’s and Bucky’s perspective, I’m really sorry. Having first-hand encounter up this close.” you hugged him before he could say anything, not wanting him to see you cry.

“I-I’m sorry I have not been truthful to you. I knew that Isiah was a legend, he was HYDRA’s most feared. I honestly even thought about him coming and destroying the base I was living so that, I could end up things for once and all. I’m sorry that I didn’t talk about a lot of things.”, you didn’t deserve him, you never told him about your powers all these years, it was time for you to.

“Hey- Hey, look at me. Its okay. Everything is going to be okay. I forgive you. I’m not Goody in two shoes either, I shouldn’t have avoided you.”, he said holding you by your face as warmth radiated off his skin. He shoed his toothy grin at you, but you had to tell him.

“Sam, I-I’ve to tell you something,” as he held you by your shoulder. “Look we will handle it once we get Bucky out okay?” Okay, then this had to wait.

It was John walker again. He was the one who bailed out Bucky. Honestly, seeing him everywhere was getting on your nerves. There he was back again ordering you both to come and meet him along with Bucky once the session was over.

Dr. Raynor told you to wait outside, as she ordered Sam to join in the session. You knew how it was going to be, you had couples therapy with Bucky before, it was not the greatest but he opened up to you even more. Or if that was what you thought, it’d be.

You never knew that meeting up with some random guy whom you never knew before, would irk you out so much. He again tried broach in, on how it would be better if we were a team. Not happening. Bucky, baited and Sam tried convincing him and politely told off on how they would not workout.

“A word of advice, then. Stay the hell out of my way.”, you almost smirked at him. This aspect of yours always felt sadistic to you. He was in a lot of pressure but he helped bailing out Bucky. You were grateful, at the same time.

You three walked out of the restaurant, finding out that the Flag smashers had indeed escaped. “Well, I know what we have to do. When Isaiah said ‘my people’, he meant HYDRA and I know who to meet.” Bucky sighed.

Sam disagreed,” Why don’t we bring in Wanda?”, he hadn’t known what had happened to Wanda.

“Sam, Bucky, Wanda is not in any state to help us. S-She.”, how will you reveal this to them now? It was your fault for not telling them any sooner.

We should have asked Wanda back during 2016, before Zemo was put into prison.” You were getting nervous to tell them the truth.

“Y/N, what is it?”, Sam probed in. This is not going to end well. Shit. You took them to an alley and scanned around with invisible ripples of energy radiating out, to find out nothing suspicious.

“Uh- Wanda was grieving over Vision and she used her sub-conscious to create alternate reality.”, you waited but they were more confused.

“I came to know when FBI Agent Jimmy Woo contacted me and they soon found out that she created a border using Cosmic Microwave background radiation and somehow wiped-out memories of the town existing amongst the other surrounding town.”, you didn’t want to talk about it, but you had to.

“But how did they know it was her?”, Bucky asked.

“They didn’t. I did, CMBR is the radiation that existed when the universe was first created, meaning it was from one of the infinity stones. Wanda is a direct source of this energy.”, you explained feeling more nervous.

“I straight away contacted Pietro and Strange to come over so that we could just solve it ourselves. Unfortunately, both Pietro and me got pulled in by the Hex and we somehow managed pull to get out Wanda.”, You didn’t want to tell them about Agatha, how you were pulled into 50s out of nowhere, thank god you had called Wong and Dr. Strange assisted into helping to get rid of Agatha. Wanda’s mind control was one of the most terrifying things, than that of HYDRA.

“Long story short, she’s safe now. Under Dr. Strange’s assistance she is attending therapy sessions and she has her brother on her side. I’m afraid that she cannot help us.”, you looked down at your shoes.

“Are you kidding me Y/N? You could’ve told anyone of us about this. We could’ve helped you.”, Sam told in disbelief.

“No, you can’t. Both of you can’t. it’s not possible. She was not even herself. Wanda morally stopped using mind control after Sokovia happened. She knew how it impacted us. Strange had told her that she was losing her own conscious and that she was using chaos magic.”, you sensed someone coming over. “Someone’s coming over. We need to leave now.”

“but I don’t hear anyone.”, Bucky chimed in and stopped once he heard footsteps.

“So, were going to see Zemo again.”, Sam told being all quiet again. Both needed some time, you had to wait now.

Next part

[techmomma]

So! You not really an alcohol drinker, or maybe you don’t like the stuff, but you’re out somewhere and trying to decide how to have some and not absolutely hate your drink either. Maybe you’d like to actually enjoy the taste of your drink! Even if you’re not looking to get drunk or even tipsy. Maybe you’re just social drinking once in a blue moon.

But being a newbie, or having only had terrible-tasting alcohol, you have NO idea what to get. Steph is here to help for newbies! Or people who don’t give a damn and just want to have a nice drink that actually tastes good for once, and not in a “oh this very bitter and tart wine is so sweet” way. I am myself now very sensitive to alcohol as a flavor, so the majority of these have Steph’s seal of “shouldn’t taste like trying to stomach down cold medicine and should actually be tasty to normal people who don’t drink alcohol”. 

Please note to use this advice responsibly. This is not to help you get drunk, only to help you find a drink you probably won’t have to gag down and can thus enjoy the rest of your night if you’re choosing to partake in alcohol. Imbibing alcohol is a responsibility, and not one to take lightly.

“Girly drinks” are your friends. If you’re young or you don’t drink very much, your tastebuds are probably going to be oriented more toward sweet flavors and less toward bitter flavors. You’re looking for high sugar content baby. (And if you ARE looking to get drunk, this will get you drunk much faster than a whiskey, no matter what your hillbilly uncle says otherwise. that is the entire point of “girly drinks.”)

Most bars, pubs, restaurants and other places often have house drinks or cocktails in their drink menu that they make most often. You’re looking for drinks with ingredients like sweet fruits, like cherries, apricots, watermelon, mango, blue raspberry, lemonade, or novelty things like chocolate or butterscotch or cake or whatever. If anything, just ask the bartender or server if they’re not busy! The bartender will for sure know if it’s sweet, and can probably point you in the right direction if you tell them the flavors you usually like, or what you’re looking for. Yes, you’ll look like a newbie. That’s not the point. The point is to get a drink you’re not gonna gag on and that’s the price you pay.

Only somewhat related, but if you’ve never ordered drinks from a place with a bar, they’ll ask if you want to put it on a tab. That just means, “Do you want me to keep your order open so you can add more drinks later, or is this a one-time deal?” They’ll probably ask for a name then. If your friend’s paying, you give their name.

Typically, stay away from beer. Some rare people enjoy the taste of beer from the start, most do not. If you smell a glass and it smells putrid, steer clear of it. You ain’t gonna like it no matter what you put in it.

Most wines will also not be your friend. To those who do not regularly drink wine, it’s going to be impossibly bitter and feel like it’s drying your throat out despite being a liquid. (That’s the “dry” quality they talk about.)

On the contrary, however, wine spritzers, mixers, and punches? Those are your FRIENDS. These are legit going to taste like juice or soda or punch. They also tend to be lighter on alcoholic content (hence why commonly used for parties), and big on sugar. Spritzers are wine and soda, mixers are wine and some kind of liquor (usually a very sweet or fruity kind like a lemon or strawberry vodka), and wine punches can be as sweet or sour or fruity or tropical as you want. You’ll usually see them referred to as white or red sangrias.

Note: this is sort of why these can actually be MORE dangerous than like having straight-up liquor. These types of drinks with low alcohol and heavy sugar make it very, very easy to drink a lot of them, and have some extra surprise drunk times sneak up on you later because you drank more than you realized. 

My rule for safe drinking? One drink per hour, follow with water. You will typically not get more than buzzed, and will stay sufficiently hydrated.

Spritzers, mixers, and punches are part of a larger group called cocktails. Cocktails being just “non-alcoholic drink + alcohol of some kind.” Rum and coke? Cocktail. Bellini? Cocktail.

Champagne cocktails are very often sweet, bubbly drinks. They are Steph’s fave for a reason. Mimosas are perhaps the most famous champagne cocktail. Those are made with orange juice and champagne. Can be surprisingly potent.

When getting cocktails with liquors/spirits, like vodka, rum, and so forth, you will want to stay away from particular ones that are known for very bitter tastes and hard kicks. A bunch also uh, in general taste like the inside of a barrel. 

Typically, whiskey, gin, and tequilas are going to be very bitter and gross, and overpower whatever they’re put in. If you like really sour though, tequila goes well with margaritas, which are a lime drink that mostly covers the tequila taste. 

Vodka and Rum are typically going to be stomached better, vodka usually being the easiest of all. Both tend to mix well with fruity girly drinks, the kind you’re looking for. Very potent, so imbibe carefully. In most drinks though, you’re still going to get that “cold medicine aftertaste” that clears your sinuses and sometimes it’s just too powerful for the drink. You can usually smell these pretty strongly before you actually drink, and that’ll give you a pretty good idea of the burn you’re gonna feel in a moment. Both are also good in sweet minty drinks, if you like those. 

Surprisingly good drink for newbies: mead. It can be a little difficult to get a hold of, but it’s getting more popular. It’s made from honey, so it’s gonna be sweet usually by default. Peach mead? Hell yeah. Peach and honey taste.

Absinthe is actually very tasty, and no it will not make you hallucinate. It actually tastes a lot like licorice candy. Comes in fun colors, and with a sugar cube you dissolve into it on a special spoon. VERY hard to get in the US though, only a few bars sell it as a drink. Like I think it’s literally just a handful of bars across the entire fifty states that have absinthe and absinthe cocktails. If you’ve already tasted Jaegermeister, it tastes like that. I wouldn’t call it a newbie drink, but imo you’ll still enjoy your drink if George just feel like being special today.

Hard ciders have also been hailed as great for newbies, and usually very sweet. They’ve always been hit or miss with me; sometimes, yeah, they’re delicious, and other times they just taste like vaguely-fruity beer. Which is not great.

Beer, to me, tastes like old socks. So y’know, vaguely fruity old socks.

Stay away from most shots. This is usually pure liquor, and it is not pleasant. Especially if you have a small mouth like mine and sometimes can’t do shots in one go. Exceptions are novelty mixers, like those weird cake shots. 

Cake-flavored vodka is not as good as you think it sounds.

So here’s some drinks that, as someone who’s tasted a bunch, I can tell you they’ll probably be easier to stomach. Some I actually enjoy as drinks.

Rumchata is horchata with rum in it, so a milky, cinnamon-y kind of drink. Good for newbies. 

Kahlua & cream: coffee and cream drink

Mudslide: coffee and cream and irish liqueur; honestly best as a mudslide milkshake. holy shit. that’s heaven.

Bourbon milkshake: honestly if any place sells milkshakes and has a bar, you can ask to get a shot of bourbon added to your milkshake. VERY yummy flavor pair, especially vanilla milkshakes with bourbon.

White russian: kahlua and cream and add vodka

Red russian: vodka with cherry liquor

Dirty Shirley: grenadine (if this is listed as an ingredient that usually means a very sweet drink), soda, maraschino cherries, vodka

Bellini (bars that know what this is are sort of rare, you’ll probably have to explain it): peach juice and champagne

Mimosa: orange juice and champagne (acceptable for breakfast parties!)

Sangria (you usually can’t order this one from bars unless it’s like a special sangria night; this drink is usually found more at parties and social functions): fruit punch + wine + soda if the hosts are younger

Strawberry lemonade vodka: strawberry lemonade and vodka

Malibu cocktail: rum (usually Malibu Rum, hence the name), cranberry juice, pineapple juice.

Blue hawaiian: coconut creme liqueur, pineapple juice, white rum, blue curacao (blue-colored orange liqueur; it’s very fun to mix and also usually means a very sweet drink).

Mojito: rum, soda, lime juice, mint

Mai tai: pineapple juice, lime juice, orange juice, grenadine, white and dark rum

Lemon drop martini: vodka, triple sec (another orange liqueur), sugar and fresh lemon juice

Pina Colada: blended slushy drink made with creme de coconut, rum, and ice

Chocolate martinis: irish cream liqueur, chocolate liqueur, and vodka

Frozen daiquiris: slushy frozen drinks made with fruit juice and rum

Irish coffee: the one place where you actually might enjoy whiskey for those who don’t like it. It’s just that: coffee and usually a whiskey liqueur, like baileys. Creamy, warm, good for cold nights.

Peppermint schnapps hot chocolate: hot chocolate with a peppermint zip. If making yourself, make a big mug first and only add like a capful of peppermint schnapps, it can very easily overpower the chocolate taste. Also creamy and yummy for cold nights. 

Hot buttered rum: an intensive recipe, but a very yummy, creamy, warm, butterscotchy drink that you stick a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top of. Hard to get tastier than that. I’m very certain Butterbeer was originally based off of this.

There were a bunch of drinks that are typically considered “girly” for high sugar contents, but having had them before, they were just not sweet. Martinis are usually very dry and bitter no matter the fruit, long island iced teas only taste good if you like iced tea, cosmopolitans (cosmos) are heavy on the vodka flavor, as are watermelon vodkas and alcohol-infused watermelons, and a number of colorful, blended ice drinks that are usually listed are heavy on the alcohol burn, enough to drown out the flavor.

Hope this was helpful! Remember, yes, you might look like a newbie, but the bartender wants to help you find a drink just for you! Ask them questions (when they’re not busy), and they can totally help you out (most just like to help, but at the very least, helping you might mean some extra money at the end of the night). And if they’re real nice they might give you little samples so that you can have a taste for yourself before buying the whole drink.

[thiswasinevitableid]

I have a suggestion for the Meet Ugly Prompts! Can you do 36, Sternclay, NSFW? Thanks so much! :)

Here you go!

36.  it’s mid-apocalypse and you break into my secret shelter and I swear I’ll kill you if you don’t give me three damn good reasons why I shouldn’t

Barclay is running out of daylight. It was worth it, he found two flocks of survivors, waited with them until Ned was able to get the car down and pick them up (the Lincoln is remarkably immune to hoards of undead/possessed humans). They’d told him there was another group further East, that they’d passed them the evening before and tried to link up for greater safety. So Barclay took his chances, just like everyone does these days, and gone to find them.

He’s found them; eight people, all prone on the ground, all with white ooze seeping from their mouths and the wounds on their bodies. Too late. He’s almost immune to being too late. Almost.

It’s not worth trying to dispatch all of them, he’ll lose what time he has left to find shelter if he does. He turns into the woods, trying to remember if he can make it to the cave up the rock-face or if he’ll be spending the night on the move.

His Sylph sense of smells picks up something human and he pauses, tilts his head and listens for footsteps. What he gets is the crunch of leaf litter behind him, from the clearing where he found the newly minted undead. 

Maybe the person nearby has shelter. Maybe they’re vulnerable and need help.

Cautiously, he takes off his bracelet, and the scent becomes much stronger. He follows it, finds its source at a log. Kneeling down, he feels along the ground and finds metal beneath a full foot of dirt and leaves. 

The sun goes down, and he shoves the log, sliding the hidden door open enough to drop down into the darkness and slide the door shut over him. A human couldn't manage the weight, but a Bigfoot certainly can. 

Once in the holding room, he keeps the bracelet off long enough to spot a door to his right. He turns human, considers his options, and then politely knocks on the solid metal. No answer, but not moaning voices either. 

He could probably manage the night in this holding area. But just to be safe…

He pulls out one of the last things they got from Heathcliffe prior to blowing the gate closed (for now. He hopes) to at least foil part of Reconciliation’s plan. A universal lock pick. Holding it against the metal, gears whir and tumblers fall until the door swings open. He steps through into a well lit bunker and is immediately greeted by the barrel of a handgun. 

“Shut the door.”

Barclay shuts the door, keeps his hands up in surrender. 

“Give me three good reasons why I shouldn’t shoot you.” The man, tall and lean and clearly comfortable with the weapon in his hand stares him down with steel in his blue eyes.

“I, uh, I’m on a rescue team, see?” He indicates the torn red patch on his jacket, the one volunteer rescuers got when this all went down. 

“How do I know you didn’t steal that from someone who was?”

“Why the fuck would I do that?”

“I’ve run across no fewer than three groups of people claiming to be ‘helpers’ or to offer shelter who then, on all three occasions, tried to kill and eat me.”

“What the fuck, there’s still plenty of food places?”

A huff, “you seem genuinely indignant, so fine; one reason. You need two more.”

“I, I honestly didn’t know if anyone was down here, I just came down because it got dark. There was a party I, uh,” he swallows, ashamed, “I didn’t get to in time. They’re infected now and I didn’t want to get bit.”

“Shit, they’re close and you opened the main door?”

“And closed it!” Barclay says hurriedly, “but if they or anything else does get in, I swear I’ll help you. And I’m damn good in a fight.”

“One reason left.”

“I, I, uh, I’m a good cook?”

“How does that help us in this situation?”

“You still gotta eat, right?”

His walky talky crackles with Mama’s voice, “Barclay, you somewhere safe? Over.”

He doesn’t move.

“Bud, if you’re in trouble gimme your best guess at coordinates and I’ll come. Over.”

“Reason number four: if you kill me, you’ll be dealing with her, and I cannot stress how terrifying she is when someone she loves is hurt.”

The man hesitates, then lowers the gun, nodding. Barclay picks up the walky-talky.

“Found a bunker, staying the night, over and out.”

“Come on, then.” The man waves for Barclay to follow him into the main room, “but if you try anything, know I’m not a man of empty threats.”

“Clearly.” Barclay mutters, taking in the bunker; it’s well supplied, like a miniature house, and if one did not know what was going on outside, it would seem cozy. No longer with terror tunnel vision, he gets a better look at his reluctant host. Short, black hair that’s been combed back, sharp cheekbones and a clean-shaven, handsome face. He’s almost Barclay’s height, which is novel. 

“So, uh, how’d you get such a sweet hiding spot?”

“I am, or was, an FBI agent. I knew where many of the apocalypse fallout shelters were, and was lucky enough to be near one when this all started. I was en route to a town called Kepler.”

“No shit.” Barclay sits down at the tiny kitchen table, “that’s where I’m from. Where we’ve been running the rescue missions out of.”

“I’ll admit I’m not up on how things are going outside. I lost contact with my superiors three days into the epidemic. They were my last tie to what was happening. As I said, the last times I went out to search for others, to try and help if I could, other people posed an issue.” He sighs, sits down across from Barclay, “I guess it’s nice knowing I rid the coming world of three groups of people who would eat others for fun.”

The implications of that statement take a moment to sink in and Barclay is torn between feeling sorry for how frightened the man must have been and understanding just how close he was to dying a few minutes ago.

“I’m sorry you’ve had such shit luck. Maybe the nice digs balance it out?”

A polite laugh, “they do. I was worried at first about getting lonely, but that’s not all that different from how my work life used to be. Most people don’t want to pal around with a man in black on a mission.”

“That does explain the suit.” Barclay points to the slacks and dress shirt the man is wearing and the jacket hung over a nearby chair.

The man blushes, “I, uh, I’ve only had my work clothes, most of which were suits. Plus, they make me feel a bit more like...well, like myself I guess. That’s always been my fear of apocalyptic scenarios; that’d I’d stop being me and become some faceless creature bent on survival.”

Barclay shudders, “yeah, I get that.”

A hand extends, blue eyes taking on a bit of warmth, “I’m Joseph. Joseph Stern.”

“Barclay.” Barclay shakes his hand, noting the way Joseph inhales sharply at the touch.

“Are you hungry? The food in here is about what you’d expect, but it’s still food.”

“Here, lemme see what I can do.”

Joseph shows him the shelves of canned food, instant ramen, and MREs, and Barclay sets to work in the weird little kitchen. The bunker must have a generator running of some non-electrical source of power, because he’s able to get a hotplate working. Cooking soothes him, a familiar rhythm in an alien space. Joseph sits nearby, sometimes talking with him and sometimes inventorying his supplies. It’s been awhile since he spoke this easily with someone; he loves his friends, but they can talk over him very easily. 

When he presents the two bowls, Joseph’s face lights up.

“This, this looks amazing! How did you do this from all that? Wait, is that Spam?”

“Yep.” Barclay twirls some ramen on his fork, “adds a hell of a lot of salt and it’s actually pretty nice deep fried.”

Joseph takes a bite and moans, “lord, I’ve missed food. Er” he clears his throat, “that came out wrong.”

“Bit of a foodie are we?” Barclay teases, bumping Joseph’s shin with his toe.

“Yes, actually. I traveled a lot for work, and food is a great way to get to know a place. Plus, people always talk easier in restaurants, so it’s an excellent way to do recon.”

“What’s your favorite thing you’ve ever eaten?”

“Hmmmmmm. Is it tacky to say foie gras fries I had once?”

“No and holy shit that sounds good.”

“Oh, it was. I do love a good fried rice though; like, the kind you get from some hole in the wall place that just sells every kind of Asian cuisine mushed together.”

“Mmm, I haven’t made fried rice in awhile. Maybe I should do that when I get back.”

“Oh, right. How far is-”

The walky talky squeaks and Barclay grabs it in a flash.

“Mama, that you? Over.”

“Yep, it’s me. Indrid got a word to Aubrey through the ol’ third eye and says to stay indoors all through tomorrow and into the next day. Gonna rain buckets, make the roads rough for anyone who’s human but not that dangerous for an oozer. You feel me? Over.”

“Copy that. I’ll stay put here. Over.”

“We’ll let you know when it’s clear. Over and out.”

“Looks like I’m staying here a little longer.”

“That’s absolutely fine. Did she say third eye?”

“Uh, hey, you wanna grab dessert? I saw some Twinkies on those shelves and haven’t had them in ages.”

Joseph raises his eyebrow in a way that indicates he knows exactly what Barclay is doing, but follows him all the same. They spend the evening eating baked goods of dubious quality and talking on the couch. At some point Barclay adjusts, bumping against Joseph, but rather than pull away the agent just lays his legs across his lap. When the time comes to sleep, Joseph shows him to a bedroom behind yet another heavily fortified door. 

“This is kinda…”

‘Grim? I agree.” They stand between the two small beds in the grey room, the lamp buzzing above them. Joseph’s is on the right, somehow more tidily made than the one that hasn’t been touched. 

“We could, um, push them together. If that’s something you’re comfortable with. Might feel less like a prison and be warmer too.”

“Works for me.” Barclay pushes his bed away from the wall. Were it safe to do so, he’d show off, by lifting it over his head. He bets Joseph would like that.

Barclay waits until Joseph is changing into pajamas to strip down to his boxers and slide under the covers, not wanting to presume his comfort with Barclay’s mostly naked body. Judging by the appreciative look he gets when Joseph lifts the covers and stares, he didn’t need to be so concerned. 

“Y’know, you can just ask for a hug.” He chuckles when he notices Joseph hesitantly inching closer. 

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortableAH.” He laughs as Barclay pulls him into a hug, smoothing his hands along his soft pajamas. 

“Ohhhh” the sigh is soft, chaste, but still dripping with want, “this feels nice.” His fingers trail up and down Barclay’s chest.

“Mmm, but we both gotta rest up. Been a long day. Get some sleep, agent.” 

Ever since the Reconciliation-generated illness broke the perimeter, the other Lodge residents have had trouble sleeping. Barclay’s gotten into the habit of kissing their foreheads; for his kind on Sylvain, it was always a gesture of protection. So when he kisses the top of Joseph’s head, it’s purely out of habit. 

Joseph just sighs again and murmurs, “goodnight, Barclay.”

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

He wakes up before Joseph, gives him a much more deliberate kiss on the cheek and heads out into the main bunker. Makes coffee and a simple breakfast, revels in the delight on Joseph’s face when he walks out and sees the meal waiting for him.

They play cards after breakfast, Joseph better at BlackJack and Barclay better at poker. Try their hands at a chess match, though Barclay is rusty (but more than happy to let a handsome guy show off for him). Joseph digs out what books are available, so they can read now and then. But mostly, they just talk. Joseph talks about his work, about his interest in the paranormal. Barclay talks about the Lodge, his friends, offers a carefully edited series of stories from his traveling days. 

They’re laid out on the couch, Barclay functionally spooning the smaller man as they read. He doesn’t notice he’s running his hand up and down his side until Joseph moans.

“Will, um, will you keep doing that? I, it’s been awhile since I’ve been touched like that. But, um, more to the point, I like it when you touch me. So, please?”

“Course.” Barclay grins, sets his book down so he can loop his other arm under Joseph’s head. He slows his strokes, takes time to savor the muscle he feels under the dress shirt. Even in his human form, he can smell that the agent is aroused. Then again, the fact he’s twitching his hips is kind of a give away.

Barclay rumbles out a laugh, leans forward and nuzzles the back of his neck, kissing it when Joseph gasps. 

“Barclay, will you--that is, I want, unnnnfhcuck” He moans when Barclay gently nips the base of his neck, trailing little lovebites all over his throat. 

“What is it babe? What do you want?” Barclay bites his ear just as he’s trying to answer, causing another whimper in place of a reply.

“Oh fuck you.” Joseph snickers, turning his head to kiss him, the awkward angle doing nothing to dampen the hunger in it.

“Can if you want to.”

“Good lord yes” Both Joseph’s hands find his arm, clinging to him as he wiggles his ass backwards to grind against him. Barclay’s cock eagerly responds, and Joseph groans, excited, “oh yes I like that very much.”

“Not sure you’re ready for that yet, babe. Much as I like the idea of cumming in you until you’re fucking dripping, rather be on the safe side and use a condom the first time I fuck you into the ground.”

“Figures that’s one of the things I haven’t found in this place.” Joseph grumbles as Barclay unbuttons his slacks.

“Think I got something you’ll like just as well.”

“Okay, oh, ohOkay.” Joseph tips inelegantly backwards as Barclay yanks off his pants and underwear. Barclay growls, hooks his legs over his shoulders and dives forward.

“FUCK” Joseph grips his head, pulling him closer as he laps at him, “ohlord, oh thank you, fuck.” 

Barclay growls, does it again when the noise makes the agent tense and moan. Chuckles with each new sound of pleasure, drinking them in as he relishes Joseph filling his senses. 

“Fuck, shit, Barclay you’re going positively wild and I love itGAHhhnnnyes.” Slick coats Barclay’s bear as he drags his face up so he can suck Joseph’s dick. God almighty does he want to be inside him, want to make him scream as he fucks him open in both forms, want to watch his body bounce and strain to take his Sylph form while those blue eyes go teary with pleasure.

He cups Joseph’s ass with both hands, pressing him as hard against him as he can manage, his focus stripped down to doing whatever it takes to make him cum.

“Fuck, fuck, Barclay, ohlordohfuckme, like that, please just like that.” His ass tenses under his hands and Barclay flicks his tongue out one last time as he cums, panting and still pleading for more. 

Taking care not to actually hurt him, Barclay hauls Joseph so he’s laying on the couch before pouncing on him, kissing him until he’s gasping, growling and rumbling praise as Joseph manages to get his jeans open.

“That’s it babe, jack me off, lemme cum all over you, oh fucking-A that’s good.”

Joseph moans a little at the compliment, then smirks, “you have a thing for marking me, big guy?”

“Fuck yeah I do.” Barclay sinks his teeth into his shoulder, nearly howls when that makes Joseph speed up. 

The agent swiftly undoes the buttons on his dress shirt, running his hands across his chest as he grins teasingly up at Barclay, “you want to cum on this, want me to let you make a mess of me?”

“Uhhuh, fuck, Joseph, you’re all mine babe, all mine.” He drops down to kiss him, pumping his hips so his cock fuck’s Joseph’s fist over and over again. He’s growling uncontrollably, kisses turning messy feral as he licks and nips at the human’s lips and neck.

When he cums he buries the sound against Joseph’s throat, praying he can’t notice how non-human it is. Glancing down gives him a perfect look at the last of his cum dripping onto the agent’s stomach, and he whines, low and animal, with affectionate want.

“That, that was, ha” Joseph kisses his cheek, “good lord I can’t remember the last time a hook up felt that good.”

“Glad you liked it.” Barclay smiles at him, kisses his nose.

“I did. I like you too, Barclay. So much.”

The come down on the couch together, cuddled up and trading innocent kisses between whispers of affection. 

As they’re cleaning up, Barclay picks up the walky-talky, intending to call Mama for an update, “y’know, I meant to ask last night; what were you going to Kepler for?”

“My work with the UP. I was investigating a string of disappearances tied to Bigfoot.”

Barclay drops the device.

“I know, it sounds silly in the face of what happened next.”

“Uh huh, right, I mean, it’s good to have a goal-”

“Barclay, this is Mama, we got the all clear to pick you up. Over.”

Joseph looks at the radio, visibly sad but clearly resolve to the fact Barclay will leave him. 

He could do just that. Leave him here to keep fending for himself. Pretend this never happened. Pretend he doesn’t matter. 

Keeping an eye on Joseph, he gives Mama the nearest spot on the road to pick him up.

“And, uh, Mama? Tell Ned he’ll be picking up two people. I found someone I can’t bear to leave behind. Over.” He holds out his hand. Joseph looks at it, then around the room, then at his face. 

Then he smiles, and takes his hand.

Barclay knows they’ll be explaining to do down the road. Bu right now, that doesn’t scare him. Right now, Joseph’s hand is in his, and that’s all that matters.

[potatocrab]

steady

Butch takes Rosie out on their first date in Megaton, more than month after he initially asked her. Better late than never. 

Butch DeLoria x Rosie Sheridan (Lone Wanderer)

2616 words | [read on Ao3]

Butch must’ve checked his reflection in the cracked mirror a dozen times, restyling his hair until every stray, black strand was perfectly in place. He’d inspected his teeth, breathing into his palm and wincing when he smelled nicotine and that morning’s breakfast. Good thing he’d swiped all those hygiene products when he left Vault 101—better for his breath to smell like artificial mint than stale cigarettes and cram. A little bit of toothpaste and a quick rinse and he was good to go—well, not before a generous spritz from his trusty bottle of cologne.

Then came his appearance, wondering if his clothes were presentable enough. He’d found the cleanest shirt from his duffle bag of clothes, tucked it into a pair of jeans that were relatively free of wasteland grime, and swapped his combat boots for a pair of sneakers instead. With his Tunnel Snakes jacket, he looked and felt like his usual self—he wasn’t entirely sure if that was a good or bad thing, given the occasion. Butch didn’t know why he was so nervous, in his head about that evening—it was just a date. He’d been on plenty before in the vault, where else would he have gotten his reputation as a ladies’ man? Okay—that was definitely not a good thing, not anymore, not when he was trying to go steady with one lady in particular. Tonight wasn’t just a date—it was the date—his first date with Rosie.

Butch would’ve taken her on one earlier but hadn’t found the nerve to ask until after they’d kissed. Well, after she dared him to kiss her, which he eagerly obliged to. Kissing was one thing but asking Rosie on a date was another—lucky for him, she agreed. Unlucky for him, they were constantly sidetracked, the Lone Wanderer needed on important missions for the Brotherhood and other wasteland factions. As long as he was at her side, Butch didn’t mind, and if Rosie was happy, so was he. It wasn’t until they put a label on it that she shyly reminded him he owed her a date. That’s when he started his planning—anything for his best gal.

The sun was just setting when he arrived at Craterside Supply, pausing outside the door to adjust his jacket and hair one last time before entering the shop. Inside, Moira and her mercenary were in the middle of a one-sided conversation, the red-head excitedly talking about robots and how to reprogram them. As soon as she noticed Butch, she widened her eyes, clapping her hands together.

“Oh, Butchie, you’re here!” she exclaimed with a grin.

He didn’t mind that Moira called her by the same nickname his ma used to use, though he was sure that if any other woman tried, he’d have more of a visceral reaction. There was something endearing about the shopkeeper, even if her voice grated his ears sometimes, she was Rosie’s closest friend. He tried to mimic her enthusiasm, though he was preoccupied with scanning the room. Moira noticed.

“She’s upstairs getting ready,” she explained before leaning over the counter. “Rosie, my sweet potato! Your lil’ cutie-pie date is here!”

Whatever awkwardness he felt was brief as Butch smiled, listening to the scrambling along the upstairs rafters—was that a hushed curse? —before Rosie appeared along the railing, bright-eyed and breathtaking. She was wearing a baby-blue dress he hadn’t seen before with the same saddle-shoes she always had—mole-rats would fly before she’d ever wear heels. She’d pinned back her long dark hair on both sides with bobby pins, and—were those new glasses? Butch was so fixated on her face that he didn’t realize she’d moved downstairs until she was standing in front of him, wringing her hands together, looking just as anxious as he felt.

He smiled at her, pushing back his nerves as he stepped closer to her. “Hey girlfriend.”

As expected, the term only made her cheeks flush with color even as she kept her eyes focused on his face. “Hey…boyfriend.”

Rosie was too damn cute without even trying and it drove Butch crazy—in all the best ways. He leaned forward, thinking he could steal a quick kiss when two arms came flying between them, one hand landing firm against his chest to push him back several inches.

“Oh no you don’t!” Moira voiced, sternly. Despite the fact she couldn’t be more than a few years older than the two, she preferred to act like some kind of zany mother figure, always wanting to look out for their best interests. Even if that also meant sending them out into the Capital Wasteland on ‘scientific endeavors.’ For science!

“That’s reserved for the end of the night!” she instructed, waving her finger at him. Moira’s expression quickly shifted, eyebrows knitting together. “On second thought, no kissing on the first date!”

Butch stifled back a snicker, thinking about all the fooling around the two had been up to in the last month. Nothing serious, nothing too heated or nefarious, but there’d been more than enough heavy petting and make-out sessions that a finger wag didn’t scare him. “You know that we’ve—”

Rosie reached her hand out to snatch his, giving it a proper pinch that had him yelping into a laugh. She eyed the door. “Should we go?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, moving to wrap his arm around her shoulder. “Let’s go, Rosie baby.”

When Butch and Rosie first got back to Megaton, he’d started working on an extravagant date fitting for his best gal. After all, he had a lot of lost time to make up for—all the weeks, or months he’d been skirting around how he truly felt about her before finally making a move…or maybe it went years beyond that. Maybe if he hadn’t been so blind or stupid in his youth to notice the girl of his dreams was right there in front of him all along. Took her father’s death and a vault uprising to bring them together in an uncertain world. But that’s what they were now—together. Of course Rosie deserved the best, even if Butch was limited with resources in the Wasteland. Not a lot a young couple could do in one small town, and he wasn’t about to risk taking her outside the gates. Well, they could leave, but then it would just end up like any other evening, with the two on some kind of shooting spree with raiders or ghouls. Not exactly romantic.

All that anxiety from before was returning, making him second-guess the planned itinerary. What if Rosie thought he was trying too hard, thought he was a square? He pegged her for a gushy romance type, with all those novels she read (yeah, he’d snuck a peek) and he wanted to impress her, even if it wasn’t his usual shtick. The nerves tightened into a ball in the pit of his stomach when he thought about other, lingering fears. He glanced over his shoulder, half expecting the ghostly specter of Rosie’s dad to jump out and voice his disapproval.

“Butch?”

He turned his head back to find her looking at him with a mix of concern and confusion, brows furrowed together. Not wanting to worry her, he pressed a quick peck to her cheek—not like Moira could see them now. Rosie instantly brightened, smiling as he tightened his grip around her shoulders.  

“Come on,” he nodded his chin, gesturing towards the town’s crater. “Leo saved a table for us at the Lantern.”

Rosie continued to smile in her little way, letting him lead the way down the ramps to Megaton’s only restaurant. Well, the only place to get a reputable meal—Butch wouldn’t dare to take her to Moriarty’s and risk food or radiation poisoning. He upped the gentleman factor, opening the door for her with a cheeky grin before rushing ahead to pull out her chair at their reserved table.

“And they say chivalry is dead,” she remarked.

He sat down across from her and chuckled. “Not with the Butch-man it ain’t.”

As soon as Leo Stahl noticed the two sitting in the private corner of the Brass Lantern, he was quick to bring them two bowls of freshly prepared noodles with a couple bottles of ice-cold Nuka-Cola. She flashed a polite smile, and while Butch hungrily dug in, she took slow, careful bites. Though, after a few moments, they both shared similar squeamish expressions, Rosie raising a hand to cover her mouth as she hid her nausea.

Butch poked at the mush of food they’d been prepared. Maybe they’d would’ve been better off at the dive bar after all. “The hell is in this?”

“Even you could’ve made something better,” she laughed behind her hand—at least she wasn’t completely disgusted, or disappointed.

“Yeah, yeah,” he agreed, washing away the taste with a swig of cola. “Whole point was getting’ out,” he frowned, struggling to meet her curious gaze. “Sucks those pre-war drive-ins aren’t around, ya’ know I swiped some holoreels from the vault just in case.”

“What didn’t you take?” she asked in a teasing manner. Though, he could tell she was delighted by that last tidbit of information. He always knew she was a movie buff, even if she tried to hide it with her love of the written word. Now, if only he could get his hands on a projector, the possibilities for movie-dates were endless.

Butch sighed, thinking about his stash of Vault-Tech goods. “The good food rations,” he lamented.

“Well…” Rosie paused to drink some of her own Nuka-Cola. “Next time, maybe we should avoid the noodles.”

Next time. At least there was the hopeful promise of a future date. Butch grinned, and relaxed in his chair, comfortable to sit in the amicable silence, just looking across the table at her bright expression. His pride swelled, knowing he was the cause—good—if he had it his way, she’d never stop smiling. When their drinks were empty, he placed a handful of caps on the tabletop to cover the cost of their barely eaten meal before jutting his thumb over his shoulder.

“Let’s blow this joint.”

Outside, Rosie lingered near the neon string of lights, hugging herself as a chill passed through the air. Butch didn’t hesitate to shrug off his Tunnel Snakes jacket, surprising her as he draped it across her shoulders. She initially resisted, raising her arms to push the fabric away, but he continued to wrap it around her slim body until she was practically drowning in black leather. No wonder she never wore the first one he gave her.

Rosie adjusted it around herself, clutching the front lapels in one hand before realizing he was staring at her with a sideways smirk. A blush creeped up her neck and her eyes darted away from his. “W—what?”

Butch reached out to grab her free hand, yanking her close. Still, he looked her over, eyes dancing across her face and body. “Ya’ look cute in that.”

He didn’t think her cheeks could get any brighter. She tilted her head a little so she could get a better look at him, the blue of her eyes sparkling under the lantern lights of the restaurant. She seemed equal parts nervous and excited. “Where to next?”

Fingers laced, Butch walked them back through the city ramps, up to the highest point in Megaton where you could see the landscape of the Capital Wasteland and a perfect view of the stars above. Rosie quickly steadied herself against the railing as she looked up at the nighttime sky, smile instantly widening.

“I found all these books on space, stars and the moon the last time we were in DC, at one of the Museums,” she started, raising one hand to point up at a grouping of sparkles in the sky. “I’ve been learning about constellations and ancient civilizations beliefs on something called astrology.”

He positioned himself behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist as she talked, more than she ever had in recent months about anything. At least in a positive, excited manner. Butch couldn’t help but listen, drawn in by the radiant and rare woman he was seeing, as if for the first time. He rested his chin on her shoulder, closing his eyes as she continued to sweetly chatter about the great unknown.

“That line of stars makes up something called the great dipper and those lines make up the cancer constellation, which apparently, correlates to by birthday, and—” she suddenly cut off. Butch peeked open his eyes to find her cheeks were dusted pink. “Oh—I’m rambling.”

He nuzzled his nose against her ear, very much tempted to kiss the exposed patch of skin along her neck. Instead, he hugged her close, mumbling sweet nothings into hair. “Yer adorable, talkin’ about this stuff.”

“R—really?”

Like she needed to be surprised. That time, he pressed a kiss to her temple. Two-for-two. Moira wasn’t going to be happy. “Yeah, Rosie baby,” Butch reassured. “Don’t you know by now I like it when yer all nerdy? You and your big, sexy brain.”

Rosie leaned back into his embrace, head tilted back as she dissolved into a fit of giggles. It was music to his ears, and he couldn’t help but match her laughter, warm with her wrapped up in his arms.

“I don’t think,” she paused to compose herself, turning around to face him. “Nobody’s called me—my brain that before.”

“Yeah well,” Butch shrugged, tightening his grip around her so she couldn’t slip away. He was entranced by the brightness of the blue in her eyes, the shimmer of the stars in the reflection of her glasses. “It’s true.”

She didn’t say anything in return for a long moment, just staring back in a certain kind of wonderment. Finally, she shifted, shivering even as she smiled. “Walk me home?” she asked, quietly.

Butch nodded, adjusting his jacket around her shoulders before lacing their hands again. It was a short walk back to her Megaton home—even if he had a room in the residence, he struggled to call the place theirs. Rosie glanced over to him as their steps slowed outside the structure.

“Unconventional for a first date, considering we live together,” she nervously laughed.

He shrugged. “I can stay somewhere else, if we wanna play into it.”

Rosie shook her head, and a new silence settled over them as they stood there outside the front door just staring at each other expectantly, still holding hands. Butch’s mind blanked, and all the cool confidence he’d gathered throughout the evening fled his body as he forgot all the planning and perfect ways to end the evening.

She flashed him a nervous smile. “You—You aren’t going to give me a kiss goodnight?”

“What?” he blinked himself back into the moment and immediately stepped forward, simultaneously pulling her towards him. He raised his free hand to cup her cheek and grinned. “Course I’m gonna kiss ya’”

Rosie was already beaming. “Oh, good—”

He cut her off with a sweet kiss—nothing overly passionate despite the itching desire to completely ravage her right there against the door. Butch broke away with a sigh and gave her hand an affectionate squeeze.

She looked at him skeptically. “You aren’t really going to stay somewhere else tonight, right?”

“Not if you don’t want me to,” he answered, resisting the urge to laugh.

Rosie was quick to pull him back so he was close, lips hovering over hers. She reached back with her other hand for the front door. “Good—I’m not done kissing you yet.”

[purplesurveys]

1001

survey by voicedance16

Name A...

Name yourself:  I said this like, seven surveys ago. To make things different, I share my name with a bird and Rihanna’s first name. 

Name (one of) your best friend(s): Angela. Sister for life.

Name 3 things in your fridge/freezer: We have a loaf of white bread, a near-empty bottle of Japanese mayonnaise, and a tub of liver.

Name a color you're wearing currently: Pink and orange. I ended up going to the virtual Halloween party at work - went as Dora - and it was a blast. I’m SO glad impersonating our characters didn’t turn out to be mandatory; I just sat there and was happy to be there, lmao. 

Name the last thing you ate: A ham sandwich.

Name the last store you went to: Does the vet count? They sell pet food over there, so it’s kind of like a store I guess. I went last weekend because Cooper needed a heartworm test and a couple of shots.

Name the song you're listening to: Nada.

Name the artist of that song: See above.

Name your favorite animal: Dogs! Elephants are a close second.

Name what pets you have, if any: I have two dogs, an aspin and a beagle.

Name the town/state you live in: I won’t give away the city, but I will say Metro Manila is a literal stone’s throw away. I live right at the border.

Name something commonly ordered at Starbucks: Like...in general? I’m not aware of the most common food/drink ordered by other people but if I had to pick a guess, I know frappes are popular among my age group and the age group before us and that java chip is a popular flavor. But if you’re just referring to my usual, I like getting an iced caramel macchiato.

Name the last person you talked to in person: My dad. They gave us a box of Halloween donuts AND cake pops at work today :’) so I just asked my dad if he wanted a donut.

Name the last person you talked to on the phone: Mom. But my last call in general was a Zoom call with the entire company just a few minutes ago for the Halloween party.

Name the current day of the week: Today issss Wednesday.

Name the current month: October.

Name the current time: 6:55 PM.

Name the last movie you watched: I’m Thinking of Ending Things, blech. Need a happier movie to mention.

Name the last book you read: I’ve mentioned it too many times on a lot of recent surveys.

Name a place you've been on vacation: Bali.

Name a place you'd like to go on vacation: I desperately need to go back to Sagada, or at least Tagaytay. I think visitors are already allowed to go to the latter so I’m really eyeing a solo, soul-searching trip soon. As for places I’ve never been to before but would make for interesting vacations, I’d go with Chicago and Marrakesh.

Name 3 things you can see from where you're sitting: I can see an empty mug that used to contain coffee, a box of cake pops, and a purple pen.

Name your favorite musical: Miss Saigon.

Name an animal (any): The first animal that came to mind was dragonfly.

Name a fruit: Avocado, the only bitch in the house that I ever respected.

Name a vegetable: Broccoli, my favorite.

Name a common breakfast food: Where I live, beef tapa.

Name a color: Dandelion.

Name a type of flower: ...Dandelion!

Name a type of tree: Pine. Not that we have any here lol, but it’s the first kind I thought of.

Name a city: Uhh, idk. Let’s go with Seattle.

Name a state: I first thought of Wisconsin because I have a lot of family living there.

Name a country: Let’s go outside of the States and go with Sweden.

Name a continent: Asia.

Name a planet: Mars.

Name a girl's name: Clara. Such a pretty-sounding name.

Name the last person to comment you on Facebook: I haven’t had Facebook in weeks and I genuinely can’t remember from whom I received my last comment before I deactivated.

Name a clothing store/brand: Mango.

Name the last book you got at the library: It’s called History of the Filipino People, written by one of my great-uncles.

Name a restaurant: Max’s, even though their food sucks.

Name a grocery store: SM.

Name an iPhone app: Like, an Apple-exclusive app? I think Keynote is one of them.

Name an actor: Eddie Redmayne! One of my favorites.

Name an actress: Kate Winslet, my biggest crush through and through.

Name a music group: Destiny’s Child.

Name your favorite/lucky number: I don’t have a lucky number, but 4 is my favorite. I don’t have a solid reason for it to be my favorite; it just is.

Name something you've accomplished:  Graduating college from my dream school in my (then-)dream degree/course.

Name something you'd like to accomplish: Travel, and travel a lot.

Name someone who makes you laugh: Andi made me smile and chuckle a bit today, so let’s name them.

Name something exciting coming up soon: Nothing too specific, really. But I’m supposed to be receiving my internship cut any day now and it’s gonna be my first salary ever, so that’s pretty exciting :)

Name a song that makes you emotional: 26 by Paramore.

Name one of your pet peeves: People who call without texting or notifying beforehand. Holy fucking shit. A hiring manager did this exact thing to me yesterday and I rejected her call because she did not text first. I honestly have no regrets, and I wouldn’t have been bitter if she stopped pursuing me then. 

Name someone you know who is an amazing singer: Hannah, without a doubt.

Name someone who is the same religion as you: JM.

Name a holiday you celebrate: Christmas. I can hardly believe another one is coming up soon.

Name the last 4 digits of your phone number: Uh, no thanks.

Name one of your cousins: Sam.

Name a book you loved when you were younger: I used to really love the Septimus Heap series by Angie Sage and I reread the first book, Magyk, more times than I could ever count.

Name a song you loved when you were younger: Big Girls Don’t Cry - Fergie.

Name your favorite movie: Two for the Road.

Name a popular book series: The Hunger Games, even though I never actually read it.

Name a musical instrument: A song played on a solo saxophone...

Name a language: German.

Name what other tabs you have open: On this window, just Bzoink. I just closed a YouTube tab.

Name 3 things on the walls of the room you're in: Audrey Hepburn wall decors, a painting that I’m trying to cover up with post-its to turn it into something positive, and uhhh my aircon is mounted to the wall if that counts lol

Name your house number: I’m not sharing that.

Name your high school: It’s an all-girls Catholic school in my city. I’ve shared the name before but I don’t feel like doing so tonight.

Name your college, if applicable: My college was in mass communication, but I went to university in UP.

Name your middle school: See high school.

name your elementary school Again, see high school.

Name the college you wish you went to/hope to go to: UP.

Name your favorite teacher: My music teacher throughout high school. I don’t like her subject, but I love her.

Name the color of your backpack: I haven’t had to use a backpack in a while but my main one is pink.

Name a dessert: Creme brulee. I don’t memorize which letters have those accent marks and I don’t feel like looking that up right now.

Name a famous landmark: Because I can clearly read the next question, the Statue of Liberty.

Name a place you might go in NYC: I’d go straight to my uncle’s so that he can show me the good spots. He has a lot of cool friends who run their own bars/restaurants in the city so if anyone knows how to have a good time in NYC without having to go to all the big tourist places, it’s him. GOD I can’t wait to go to New York.

Name an inventor: Hedy Lamarr.

Name an article of clothing: Scarves.

Name an ice cream flavor: Mint chocolate chip, yum.

Name a religion: Buddhism.

Name an emotion: Resentment. 

Name a room in your house: My bedroom, because that’s where I’m staying in at the moment.

Name a website: Wikipedia.

Name a car: This is pretty vague. A kind of car? Hatchback. Are you looking for a make? Toyota. Or maybe a specific model? Honda Civic. I gotchu.

Name something you need to do today: SLEEP. I should not be awake at 11 PM.

Name someone you admire: Andi.

Name someone you miss: At the moment, nobody.

Name a part of the body: Elbow.

Name the last youtube video you watched: I bawled my eyes out to a video playing the audio to Ben&Ben’s Kathang Isip because that song makes so much goddamn sense and is relatable now. Can’t I just go back to a simpler time when that song was just fun to listen to and wasn’t actually relevant to my life? I hate music sometimes.

Name a quote you love: I don’t have one.