#for some reason the mayor knows how to drive

[amazingdeadfish]

Family Outing

[fluentmoviequoter]

Best (Fake) Boyfriend

Requested Here!

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x fem!reader

Summary: When you receive unwanted attention at a fancy restaurant, a handsome SWAT sergeant pretends to be your boyfriend to help you.

Warnings: pushy man is pushy and mean. Deacon is perfect and pretty. reader isn't rich (not necessarily poor, just usually unable to afford the vacation she's on). lots of fluff!! there's also a Psych reference and if you find it, we should be friends

Word Count: 2.0k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Kay Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“It’ll be fun!” your best friend insists.

“I don’t know,” you reply.

“It’s just a weekend. This is the hottest resort in LA and we’re never going to be able to afford it again. Besides, it’s an Uber ride away, if you hate it after the first night, just go home. We wouldn’t hold that against you, swear.”

Closing your eyes, you nod. The small group of friends surrounding you cheers. After they force you to pack a bag, you find yourself in the back of an Uber driving through Beverly Hills.

“How did you get a room here again?” you ask.

“I got an insane discount voucher when I went to the grand opening of that new organic restaurant in Santa Monica!”

“And we’re just spending a weekend in the resort? Swimming, relaxing,” you trail off, unsure if you believe the lack of ulterior motives.

“Yeah,” your best friend answers, “plus rich men from the Hills.”

The Uber driver rolls his eyes, and you can’t blame him... not at all.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Save a whole school full of evacuees and you get a dinner reservation at a Beverly Hills resort,” Street muses. “I knew there was a reason I liked this gig.”

“You do know that place will be crawling with rich, single women,” Hicks begins.

“Yeah, we do,” Tan and Street cheer together.

“And badge bunnies,” Hicks finishes.

Street shrugs, and Deacon and Hondo shake their heads. 

“Do we have to attend?” Deacon asks.

“Why? Got better plans?” Street asks.

“A night in the hills isn’t everyone’s idea of a fun time, playboy,” Hondo answers. Deacon nods his agreement.

“Yes, you have to go. Mayor’s going to be there tonight, too. Every week like clockwork,” Hicks answers.

“Hey, Deac,” Street calls as they walk out. “What’s the real problem?”

“Just seems like a materialistic, money-based approximation of the worth of the lives we saved,” Deacon answers. “The mayor’s office just implied all those lives are worth approximately $650.”

“Those meals are over $125 each?” Luca gapes. “Sorry, I know that’s not the point.”

“It’s not the first or last time we’ll receive a monetary thank you, but at some point it becomes more about the reward after the job than the job itself,” Deacon adds.

“Maybe we’ll be there for a reason,” Luca offers. “But I get what you’re saying. We are focused on the job, and that’s all we can control.”

“Then I guess we should clean up. Places like that frown upon dirt covered tactical uniforms."

"Their loss; this is my best look,” Street jokes.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Um, I can’t afford to look at this menu,” you say, pushing it back onto the table. “Maybe I should go find a diner or something.”

“It’s included,” your best friend whispers. “But we’re trying to play the part, so sit up and feel as good as you look in that outfit.”

Sighing, you straighten your shoulders, picking up the outrageously priced menu again and trying not to let your shock show. Indeed, you’ll never live like this again, but you’re not sure you’d want to even if you could.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Would it be wrong for me to say there’s one for each of us?” Street asks, glancing over his menu.

“Yes,” Deacon, Hondo, and Luca reply in unison.

“They’re women, not suits, Street,” Deacon adds.

“Think I could land one?” Street asks.

“Playboy,” Hondo sighs. “You don’t have enough game for half of one of those women, kid.”

“Really? ‘Cause the one in the blue’s lookin’ over here.”

“Probably at Deacon,” Luca says, keeping his eyes on the menu.

“Right,” Deacon agrees sarcastically. “I- honestly, I don't know what's in most of these foods, so one of you order for me.”

He sets his menu down, his gaze wandering to the table of women Street was talking about. One of them catches his attention, and when the four other women get up, giggling as they walk toward the bathroom, he decides he’s looking at a kindred soul.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Mind if I sit here for just a moment? My friends are running late, and the reservation is under another name,” a man explains, smiling as he looks at you.

“Uh, I don’t think-“

“Thanks,” he says, cutting you off as he sits beside you.

“My friends are coming right back,” you state. “So, you should find somewhere else to wait.”

“Sounds like you have time to kill, and I do, too. What’s your name?”

You don’t answer, fiddling with the bottom of the tablecloth as you watch the doorway for your friends to return.

“I can’t imagine someone ditching you.”

The man leans into your peripheral vision, and you turn your head away. When his hand brushes against your covered hip, you stand quickly.

“I told you that I didn’t want to talk, so you should find your way to your own table before I come back,” you say lowly before walking to the balcony entrance.

✯✯✯✯✯

Deacon tunes out his teammates as he watches a man sit beside you. Your obvious discomfort makes him eager to help. He stops at the thought that one uninvited man in your personal space is likely more than enough.

“Deac?” Hondo asks. “Oh,” he adds when he looks at what is so worthy of Deacon’s attention.

“Didn’t think he still had it in him,” Luca whispers to Hondo.

Deacon stands suddenly, his attention on your back as you walk onto the balcony. Hondo notices that the man beside you looks angry, and when he jostles the table in his haste to follow you, he knows why Deacon is so invested.

“Go help her out, Deac, we got your back,” Hondo says.

Deacon nods wordlessly, buttoning his blazer as he follows in your footsteps. His team looks on, sure that Deacon has control of the situation but is prepared to jump in if the situation calls for it.

“Deacon comes back with her glued to his side or that starry far-away look in his eye,” Luca announces. “Trust me.”

“My money’s on the first one. You see how she relaxed the moment her friends left? She’s just like him,” Tan points out.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Looks like you found your way to my table, too,” the man says behind you.

When you turn to face him, you step back. His jaw is tight, and his eyes look darker than they did inside.

“Change your mind about spending time with me, girlie?”

With your side to the door, you notice someone walk out, but don’t expect an arm to circle your waist a moment later.

“Hey, babe,” the man says. “What’s going on? Came back to the table and you were gone.”

Looking up at him, you sigh at the sight of his large, kind eyes. Trusting him, you relax against his side, raising a hand to press against his sternum.

“Sorry, handsome. This guy was waiting for his friends,” you explain.

“You need help finding your table or somethin’? This is a nice place, I’m sure they can help with that.”

The man clenches his fists at his side, looking between you and the man holding you to his side.

“Or do you need a different kind of help?”

The hand on your hip tightens, his touch still gentle as his voice drops. He’s defending you, angry for you, and though you don’t know why, you’re grateful.

“No, I’m good. Your ‘babe’ here might want to learn some manners, though.”

You press your hand against your guy’s chest when he tries to follow the man inside. Whispering your name to distract him, you sigh when his attention returns to you.

“I’m Deacon,” he replies. “Sorry for grabbing you.”

“Don’t apologize. Thank you. I don’t know what I was thinking walking out here alone.”

Your hand is still spread over his chest, his arm around your waist, and his hand rubbing soft circles on your hip. You know the moment has to end, but your desperation to draw it out outweighs your logic.

“Well, thank you, Deacon. You’re a great boyfriend; I’m sure there’s a very happy woman somewhere.”

Deacon’s hand moves to your waist as you move back, and he quickly raises the other to stop you. 

“There is no happy woman,” he responds. “I just- how often do you have to deal with stuff like that?”

“Not very often. Most guys get the idea, even if it takes a few tries. Never had to be saved like this before.”

Deacon sighs, disappointed either in you or the situation. You hope it’s the situation, and Deacon can practically read your mind.

“I’m a SWAT sergeant, and we have to watch for crossfire,” he begins.

You nod with furrowed brows, confused as to where this is going.

“I just will never understand how some men are so okay with not caring how many women they hurt in pursuing their own… whatever it is they’re looking for.”

“How? How is there no lucky woman?” you ask softly. “Between the kindness and the poetic speeches, you’re just begging to get snatched up.”

Deacon drops his chin, shaking his head as he smiles.

“Why’d you follow me?” you ask.

“You were uncomfortable. I noticed you before he sat down, and then when you stood up so fast I couldn’t just sit there. Especially when he followed you.”

“Then you can tell I don’t fit in here.”

“I can,” Deacon agrees before whispering, “because I don’t either.”

“Could you maybe ditch your friends?” you ask. “Let me call you handsome for a while longer?”

“You seem a bit too pleased to have a fake boyfriend who only came out here to scare somebody off.”

“Because my fake boyfriend is better than any real one I’ve ever had.”

Deacon smiles, pulling you against him. “I have to stay for dinner, it’s a work thing. But if you’re still up for pet names later, and tomorrow, and for a good, long while, I think we can work something out.”

“I will be.”

“Have your phone?”

You pull your phone from your pocket, unlock it, and hand it to him. He keeps one hand on your side as he adds his contact, sending himself a text with your name. After he returns your phone, he sighs.

“The moment’s over?” you ask.

 “The moment is on hold,” Deacon corrects.

“Enjoy your work dinner. I’m going to go have a free dinner and listen to my friends pretend they belong here.”

“Feel free to sit at my table if you need a break. I’m sure they’re talking about you already. Trying to decide if I’ll actually act on my feelings or just come back in alone and puppy-like.”

You smile, slowly separating yourself from Deacon. Walking in first, he holds the door for you, and you brush your knuckles against his hand before returning to your table. As you sit, your eyes stray to Deacon and never leave.

✯✯✯✯✯

“That little hand thing counts, right?” Tan asks.

“Counts for what?” Deacon inquires as he sits.

“I thought you’d come back with your arm around her.”

“We’re, uh, we’re gonna keep talking later.”

“Atta boy, Deac!” Luca cheers.

“Why didn’t you invite her over?” Hondo asks. “This may be a work thing, but that doesn’t mean it has to be boring.”

“I did. If she gets tired of her friends, she’ll be over.”

“Yeah,” you interject, pausing at the corner of their table. “I’m tired of my friends and your table seems like a better fit.”

Street, Luca, and Tan rush to pull a chair over for you, arguing over who gets the credit. You laugh at their antics as Deacon tells you everyone’s names.

“Nice to meet you. And thanks for letting me crash your dinner,” you say.

“So, what do you think of our Deacon here?” Luca asks, smiling kindly.

“I think he’s great,” you answer honestly. Turning toward him, you whisper, “And handsome.”

“Are pet names our thing now?” he asks.

“Hey, you started it, babe.”

Deacon dips his chin before his eyes rise to yours, and you think ‘beautiful’ might be a better fit for him. Luckily, he promised plenty of time to try all the pet names you can think of.

[bruciemilf]

Jason's never seen Bruce cry before.

He often admires the sharp cut of his jaw flexing, clenching tight when he's yelled at. By Gordon, by the mayor, by an unhappy civilian displeased with the justice they're handed.

He sees Bruce's lips pressed together, his brown eyes polished by a sad sheen when Dickface won't answer his phone. The birthday cake glares on the table like a bad omen.

When Jason asks for extra homework (no, he's not a nerd, Steph) and lecture, he requests Bruce read to him; He does like his voice. Soft, satiny, almost calming. If they weren't putrid rich, he'd make a goldmine in audiobooks.

They read The Mask Of Zorro, and he doesn't see Bruce for a few days.

A part of Jason doesn't like it; He's Robin. He's supposed to be magic. It works on everyone else, so why not on Bruce? Why not on someone Jason wants to be happy?

"I am happy, Jaylad. "

" Nice effort. Put more soul into it. You're almost making me believe you."

They've been driving a while. He knows what Bruce is trying to do. He's trying to lull him to sleep, like Jason's some baby.

" You are a baby,"

" I'm 9! I'm gonna be 10 soon! That's a full adult in the Narrows," Bruce's face, -- Batman's, -- betrays no reaction, but it's clear he wants to say something. But chooses not to. For some reason, that makes Jason fume quietly.

There's fingers tickling him.

He screeches, trying to push Bruce away, nevermind his tiny hands. Giggles and snorts and boisterous laughter fills the Batmobile, flooded by Jason's screams. " STOP! I DON'T CONSENT TO THIS!"

"Say you're a baby,"

" I'm-- I'm a baby, okay, I'm a baby,"

Satisfied , Bruce mercifully retreats, leaving Jason to wheeze and pant. It's really important, to capture these moments of joy. Gotham gives quick and takes quicker.

He wishes he wasn't so right.

It's clear on Bruce's face he didn't plan to come across any preps. "I know those guys," Jason hisses, watching a familiar clown gang lurk around the batmobile like a murder. "Joker's boys."

"Stay here."

"No! You don't have to do this alone!"

Bruce doesn't listen. Maybe that'll be their fate forever. Jason, screaming and reaching for him, and Bruce pushing him away to spare him.

And he doesn't know how they got him; That green stuff doesn't burn, not from what Jason sees over his spiking panic, but it does something, because Bruce falls like rain.

"No!"

His fists pound on the window, maybe to escape, maybe to get their attention. But if you get the Bat down, keep him there. Till he bleeds. And no one makes Batman bleed.

Bruce doesn't cry; He doesn't cry when they punch him, when they kick him, when they stab him, when they stomp his head, when they break his jaw with a crowbar,

Jason does, thought.

Tears of the father are wept by the son.

That laughter haunts him for years.

[alphabetboyluvr]

THROTTLE - JJK | NINE

one/ two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven

warnings - plans are being set in motion!!! back to busan we go! references to drugs, shitty driving, the usual. no smut! a rarity! plot!! one of my fave metaphors / set of lines in the entire fic is in this one!!

word count - 11.4k

minors dni // series masterlist

"I've been thinking," you tell Hoseok a little after dusk. The sun sets later these days, mid-year sun never wanting to settle. A monsoon has been looming for a few days now, but the grey clouds sit defiant in the air. "You were right."

He looks at you, contemplation sinking into the creases of his frown, the crisp white shirt he's wearing unbuttoned to his mid chest. A pair of thin-framed glasses adorn his eyes as he skims over the notes of a casefile from work.

"What about?"

His voice is soft as he asks.

With your hair like this - top layer in a half-undone bun, the rest wisping around your shoulders - he's reminded of how you used to be.

There's a lot to be said for your relationship, or lack thereof, but once upon a time, you'd cared for another. Would dance in his parents' kitchen when they were out of town, you in one of his shirts, bare feet padding against the ondol heated floor.

You look younger with your hair like this. Like yourself, he thinks. Someone he used to know.

It's part of the reason, you think, that you're so awful to another. You grew up together. He's a part of your formation, and you a part of his. There's a reminder of the innocence that once was.

He knows how much you wanted to get out of the fold. Knows you wouldn't have come back without an ulterior motive. He isn't naive to this. Isn't naive to anything you do. Is well aware you've been doing things that no woman with a diamond on her ring finger should be doing.

But he's no saint, either. The ring was given to you with a purpose. Just like his dress shirts are dry cleaned with a purpose. Saves you from having to wash his secretary's lipstick out of them.

"I need something to fill my days," you say. "I think I'm going crazy cooped up here."

It's not a lie.

It's also not the full truth; not what's prompting this conversation, but that's neither here nor there.

Hoseok nods. Put his case file on the coffee table and turns his full attention to you. There's a softness to him now, one that he didn't have the last time you spoke.

He's not all bad, not by any stretch of the imagination. Is just caught up in a God-awful world. He's like you, in that regard.

Whatever freedoms once belonged to you have been traded for protection - not just from the men who lurk around dingy boxing clubs, but from your own family, too.

Hoseok's position within the police force gives you an added layer of armour. He's chainmail. He knows this. Knows you need him.

But he needs you, too. He's got a greasy pole to climb. Helps him out if you're throwing him towels from the Mayor's office. Will get him to the top a little quicker.

It's unsurprising that he had been the one to suggest picking your relationship back up where it had been left a few years prior.

He had painted the idea as a beautiful utopia; Daegu's darling children, reunited. A powerhouse. Unstoppable.

You didn't have a plan back then, not yet - but power seemed like a good place to start.

"You've been away for a while," he muses, well aware that it's not been an easy adjustment for you. "I... Look, you and I both know this isn't ideal. I know you wouldn't be here if you thought there was another option for you."

When you nod, he thinks you might cry.

The person you are isn't the person he once knew. You're so strong in some regards, far more powerful than he ever thought you would be and yet at times you can seem so docile. So timid. Weak. He doesn't understand it. Not really. Doesn't understand you.

Because if he did, he'd know there's nothing docile about you.

"I don't actually want to ruin your life," he says with a small smile that seems sincere. Might not be. You choose to believe it is.

"It's fine," you offer back an equally minuscule smile. "I do a good enough job of that all on my own."

He presses his lips together, and contemplative dimples etch themselves into his cheeks. "What are you thinking? Let's work together. Find a solution."

Men. So easy to wrap around your finger.

"I'm thinking of proposing a library initiative to get the city kids reading. You know how much my Father likes a good press release," you say. "I'm not too sure yet. I could volunteer at the library, start promoting for the education sector. Something like that. It will give me something to do, and gets me in a public role that is pretty much as safe for publicity as can be. If I'm working as a volunteer, there's no need for additional expenses."

As you recite your lines, you think of Jimin - and how good he is at putting words together to make them sound convincing. He and Jin are definitely the brains of Kang's boys. Namjoon and Jungkook the brawn.

Like clockwork, you're thinking about him again. Thinking about the way he didn't take his eyes off you for the entire meeting. Thinking about the way he didn't crack a single smile. Thinking about how he'd followed you out afterwards, just to ask if you were okay - and about how forlorn he'd looked when you told him that you're none of his concern, and that the only thing between the pair of you anymore is business.

And then he had smirked. Told you that business was the only thing that had ever been between the pair of you. Told you not to get it twisted. Told you not to flatter yourself, and reminded you that he was the one who had orchestrated your entire relationship.

"Whatever's between us -" He had almost snarled. "- Is what I made it to be."

You'd laughed. Stepped a little closer. Toyed with the key still around his neck, and said, "we both know that's not entirely true, don't we?"

He was silent. Could barely breathe, let alone think straight. Wasn't till you were a mile across the city that he seemed to remember how to function like a human being again. He knows one thing for certain: he absolutely cannot be around you. Not if he wants any shot at sanity.

And so when you walk into the boxing club the next day, Jungkook pauses.

He watches how you scan the room, but drops his gaze before your eyes are able to reach his. He doesn't care for making conversation with you. Knows that it will be a fruitless endeavour.

It feels like oceans bloat the distance between you, and he's never much been one for swimming. Loves the freefall of the dive; hates the dictation of the currents.

"Is Jin about?" You ask, an air of indifference to your tone.

Following the conversation with Hoseok, you'd been granted approval from the Mayoral office to start planning the campaign. You'll be working with the PR team, but it's your domain. They'll be there to hold your hand if you need it, but you'll be the guide.

You're just here to report back to Seokjin. Aren't here for small talk. Would rather swallow a razor blade, you think. Much more pleasant.

Still in his workout gear, Jungkook doesn't look at you. Just shakes his head, slams his locker door shut, and kicks the heavy metal side door of the club open.

"You shouldn't be here," he says as he exits. "Ain't safe for you."

And he's right. It's a terrible place for you to be. Not for the risk of Kang showing up, or you being spotted fraternising with the enemy, but because of the way Jungkook makes you feel like your heart might stop beating entirely.

Part of you thinks it would be preferable if it did.

The door slams behind him, and echoes into the lofty room. The chime is haunting. Almost sounds like the same one that used to be in your stomach.

You're looking at your feet, gearing yourself up to leave, when the door swings back open.

Jungkook is agitated. Chewing on his cheeks, thunder in his eyes; he's the monsoon that's been looming all week.

You wish he would just crash. Pour down. Bless you with the glory of what it feels like to be covered in his torrential rains.

But there's a ring on your finger, and a hole in his chest. His mouth is constantly dry in your presence, and he's all cried out. He's got nothing left to give.

You look so familiar. So much like home - but Jungkook lost the keys a long time ago, and the one around his neck won't work on any of the fucking locks. He's shut out. An intruder every time he tries to peep inside the windows. It's invasive, the way he looks at you.

Has you drawing the curtains shut.

"I wasn't kidding," he says, his rounded white teeth clamping on his bottom lip before he can speak his favourite letter out loud. Doesn't wanna call you the name he used to trace on your back in the dark of the night. "You don't what it's been like since... You don't know. It's not safe."

"It's never been safe," you sneer. "Why the fuck are you acting like you care now?"

You watch as his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. He shakes his head. Looks to his feet.

There's something calming about it. You've seen his head hung low like this many times over.

It's never been due to your faults, but his, instead - his own disappointment, his own shame.

When his eyes fall back on you, dark and heavy, you're reminded of exactly who he is: danger.

So yeah, you're right. It's never been safe. Not with him around. Not safe for your life, not safe for your heart.

Never safe.

But he's always cared.

He wants to curse you out. Wants to say that you've no fucking idea how hard this has all been for him. Wants you to know that the only reason you're both still in this mess is because he cared. If he had never cared, then he never would have fucked it all up in the first place.

The words on the tip of his tongue are knocked back down his throat when a familiar rattle sounds in the parking lot. Thick and heavy, the gargle belongs to an exhaust pipe, and Jungkook has been around these parts for long enough to know exactly who it belongs to.

"Shit," he hisses. Doesn't answer your question. Holds the door open, instead. "Out."

When you stay put, he snarls.

"C, get the fuck out. It's Kang. You wanna fuck things up all over again? Wanna prolong the time we have to spend together?"

You start walking as soon as he finishes his final question.

"S'what I thought," he mutters when you walk past, and closes the door behind you both. "Go slowly. Don't turn the corner into the parking lot. Wait for me."

He clicks the lock shut; scrambles the code on the padlock. Keeps his eyes on you while you wait by the corner of the building. Appreciates that you listened to him for once in your life.

Old Man Kang only comes to the boxing club these days to check up on Jungkook - to make sure he's fighting fit. He's got a boxing match coming up. A big one. Puts him up against some boys from Busan. He knows they don't take well to 'traitors', which is what he's deemed as, now that he's fighting for a Daegu club.

Kang's banking on a heavy return should Jungkook win - but there's no 'should' about it. He has to win. If he doesn't, his debt to Kang - for the money lost on you - will only increase.

"You drive here?" Jungkook whispers as he comes to stand behind you, peeking over your shoulder to get a view of the parking lot. You choose not to inhale through your nose. Know that you might just die if he still smells the same.

He scans the cars, but can't spot the Merc you've been driving.

Of course he can't. Hoseok needed it for work. An out of town job.

"Got the bus," you say back, just as quietly.

"M'kay," Jungkook says gently. Goes to put a hand on your waist. Stops himself. Remembers things aren't how they used to be. "Take my key, get in the passengers side. Keep your head down. I'm gonna go back in for a minute, and make it look like I'm just leaving. They'll ask questions if they hear me drive off without seeing my face."

"I don't-"

"It's not up for debate. If they see you here, it fucks everything up. Just get in the damn car."

It's silent, save for the faint hum of traffic on the main road a few blocks away. Just you, and Jungkook, and the sound of the city. Neither of you really understand the way you feel. It's not quite sorrow. It's solemn. Sad - yet there's serenity, too. A saving grace for those who have fallen from it.

Jungkook decides that you're too stubborn, but also knows the one thing that always got you on side was a little desperation.

He gets closer. Puts his hand on the back of your neck. Wonders if you can feel the pulse in his thumb, and how it's beating a mile a minute. Squeezes ever so gently. Whispers, "Please, C."

The bus stop is two minutes up the road. You know that you could make it there - and be on the next bus going anywhere - by the time Jungkook has finished distracting Kang. You don't need him to save you. You don't need his protection. His kindness.

Yet you hold out your hand. Take his keys, and say, "Please be quick."

All he can do is nod, because truthfully, he'll do whatever he can to get himself beside you again.

"I'll be as quick as I can be. Promise."

It's funny. He's broken every single promise he's ever made you. Strange of him to think it holds any merit, now.

Doesn't stop you from holding out your pinky, mind you. Also doesn't stop him from linking his with yours. Pretty little promise, wrapped up with a pink bow. All perfect and pristine, satin against skin.

At least it's not red, you think. Not this time.

You hear Jungkook greet Kang - "Hi! Didn't see you there. Was just about to leave! What can I do for you?" - and decide that the coast is clear. Glancing around, you make a beeline for Jungkook's obnoxiously bright tin can of a car.

You hate it. Hate it in the same way that teenagers hate their hometowns. No matter how much you want to run from it, you know it will always be the place you go back to.

But of course you will.

It's home.

Some say it's where the heart is.

And considering you've been without one ever since Jungkook left your apartment all those months ago, perhaps it's not a bad place to start looking for it.

As you approach the bright, siren-red car in the parking lot, Jungkook's keys sit snug in the palm of your hand.

The satin lanyard strap is a little worn through - a freebie from a car show he'd attended a few years ago - but is just as soft as it always has been.

There's comfort to be found in it, like a blanket from childhood, or the warmth of a heavy duvet after a long day. It's a comfort you haven't felt in Hoseok's bedding, nor in the childhood bedroom you're able to visit again now that you're back on cordial terms with your family. 

Jungkook had never smothered you. Not once. Not like a blanket nor a duvet could - and that's exactly why you kind of used to wish he would. You had craved the weight of his body; wanted your airwaves cut off by the very essence of everything he was. Deprivation had made you desperate.

Foolishly, it seems like not much has changed. Not much and everything all at once.

When you hook your fingers beneath the door handle, you can still feel the burn of his touch. In fact, your pinky finger almost feels numb. You hold it out a little, away from your other fingers. You want to preserve the feeling; lodge the sensation in your memories, embed it into your skin. Never wanna lose it, as if you have any choice in the matter. 

Sinking into the passenger seat (alternatively known as the closest thing you've ever had to a second home) it's the scent of his leather that hits you first. A little oaky. Well-aged. Cared for. Restored by a pair of rough hands that hand touched you with just as much gentle cautiousness, once upon a time.

It's details like these; his discipline when it comes to making sure his car is looked after - preserved - that let you know just how meticulous Jungkook is. Nothing he ever does is purely up to chance.  Luck isn't something that comes naturally to him. It's something he crafts. 

Like Rumplestiltskin, he'd spun gold from straw in the form of your relationship. None of it was real. Not really.

A few tears brim on your lashline and threaten to fall - but you've never taken well to threats. You wipe them away. Won't let him know that being back in a place that once felt so much like safety is scaring you half to death, now. 

It's a vow you've made to yourself: Jungkook will never know how he affects you. He won't see you cry. Will never know your skin is forever changed by his touch, numb to everything else but the tips of his fingers and the taste of his tongue against your own.

He'd lost the luxury of 'you' the very second he decided you were expendable. 

Shifting in your seat, you're acutely aware of the little changes that have been made in your absence. There's a new air freshener, but it smells just the same. Some sort of pine. Gas station staple.

There's no hairband around his gear stick, like you know there used to be. No receipts from GS25 in the cupholders, no dirt from your shoes in the footwells, no bottles of soju left to roll around in the back.

His car is void of all essence of you. 

The centre console - the old store for your snacks after late night shifts - is empty, save for a pair of silver-rimmed glasses.

They're large - clear lenses - and slightly more rounded than you'd expect of his taste, but the thick dark frame on top of them seems apt. You can't imagine him wearing them. Think it might be fatal. Decide you'd never like to find out.

When you flick down the sun visor to check yourself in the mirror, you almost miss it; the one relic of you.

Tucked in a small slip where his tax documents should be, is a photo strip. Taken in a beachside photobooth after a few too many drinks, you remember it well.

It's rough at the edges. Torn in half. Jungkook is gone, and yet you remain. 

The removal of himself from his own memories is stark. Confusing. Distressing. Forces you to focus on yourself; the smile that you know was caused by him tickling at your ribs, and the tattooed hand on the side of your face in the second picture, that you know for a fact was pulling you in for a kiss, even if you can't see it. 

In the photographs, your eyes are bright, despite the black-and-white filter (his pick). There's a stupid pastel purple frame around each one of the pictures, with miniature Kuromi's perched on the edges (your pick).

You wonder where the other half is. Decide you're better off not knowing, but don't have time to give it much thought though, for Jungkook's yanking at the drivers-side door, and asking for the keys before you even have a chance to flip the visor back up.

He looks at you - eyes jagged, jawline sharp - and lets his gaze fall to your hand, where the pictures sit pretty.

"That's still in here?" he sneers, as if it's a surprise; as if he doesn't look at it every time he stops by the river to breathe for a moment. Just like he didn't sit on the beach in Busan last month and set fire to the other half; watching himself disintegrate. "Keep it. I've got no use for it."

He holds his hand out for his keys, so you make sure to drop them just beyond his grasp and into his footwell. You know you're pressed for time, and that you really shouldn't be fucking about, but he's too much of an asshole, you decide. 

"Real fuckin' mature," he grumbles, pulling on the lever beneath his chair to push it back so he can reach down for them. There's silence as his posture restores and he sinks his key into the ignition. A spark lights in his engine, the exhaust roaring into action. He knocks the gear stick into reverse, and holds onto the headrest of your seat as he looks over his shoulder. Swings the car around. "Head down."

You do as you're told. 

It's mainly because you don't want to give him any more reason to snarl, but also because the quicker you do, the quicker you can just get the fuck out of his car.

It's claustrophobic now that he's sharing the space with you. You don't wanna breathe; don't wanna smell his aftershave. Don't wanna listen; don't wanna hear the way he mumbles to himself. Don't wanna look; don't wanna see his tattooed hand knock the gear stick into first, then straight up to third.

In fact, you'd quite like to stop existing altogether. 

Jungkook used to say how much he enjoyed it. Enjoyed existing with you. 

You hope it makes him feel fucking sick, now. 

"Just drop me at the end of the road," you say. "I'll make my way from there."

"End of the-" he scoffs, not even finishing his repetition of the question. He coasts around the corner, foot on the clutch. You wonder if he's exercising a complete lack of control on purpose. Wonder if he's baiting you. "That private school education of yours really didn't give you any street smarts did it, huh?"

He definitely is baiting you. There's no doubt about it. He's petty motherfucker when he wants to be - and you can be just as bad. You just can't decide on how you want to respond. 

Firing back would be the easy option. It's what he would expect. What he knows of you. 

Staying silent looks meek, you think. 

The final thing you consider is crying. Do you want to? Not really. You're more frustrated than you are sad. Thing is, he wouldn't expect it. Wouldn't know what to do. Would definitely make him freak out a little. Might even get him trying to make things better.

But you just can't bring yourself to do it. 

Instead, you laugh. Look straight ahead. "Baby, these streets are mine. We both know I'm untouchable."

His hard stare on the road intensifies. You're approaching the bridge. Neither of you want to speak, both too aware of the impact that first night had on your lives; how it planted a seed that turned out to be nothing more than a venus fucking fly trap. 

And yet Jungkook just can't help himself. He doesn't want to let you win.

It's pathetic, and he knows it. Knows that he's the one who fucked you over; that he's the one who did all of this. Knows that you've every right to be hurting, and every right to want him hurting, too.

But you're engaged, he fumes internally. Due to be married. Have committed your life to someone else, as if the time you had spent with Jungkook meant nothing. It's only been about four months since it all went to shit. He can barely look at the watermark he still hasn't cleaned off of his bathroom mirror. 

Lies were fed to you between his kisses, but every single one of those was real. He meant it every time he pressed his lips against yours; every time he told you he needed you in his sheets eternally.

He makes assumptions like you used to do. Thinks about your fiance. Assumes it's love. Has to be.

It's clear to him now that the feelings you pretended to have for him were always a lie. 

He doesn't understand why.

Sure, he knows why he lied to you. Knows that he filled your head with half-truths, and tiptoed around the facts of the situation, but he was always honest with how he felt. Never told you bullshit about wanting to keep you close. Meant every single word of it. 

But you didn't. It's obvious to him that your lies went beyond your family tree. Nobody likes a liar - not even the boy who cried wolf, himself. 

"Untouchable?" he smirks. It's cruel. Juvenile. "We both know that isn't true, don't we?"

"Haven't you heard, baby?" You simper, voice sweet a honey laced with rat poison. You hold up your hand, and wiggle your fingers. Light catches in the cut of your diamond. "I've got a ring. I'm untouchable in every sense of the word."

It stings. Almost like your diamond's encrusted on a dagger, and you've impaled it into his chest.

He doesn't look at you as he drives. Not like he used to. Doesn't throw you a single glance across the centre console, doesn't hold your knee nor your hand beneath his on the gear stick. Instead, his jaw remains taut, eyes ahead on an endless horizon that he hopes he never reaches. If he keeps driving forever, none of this has to end. 

For a little while longer, he can pretend. 

Pretend that things are as always as they were; that perhaps you've just had a small argument - over what to have for dinner or the way he'd rolled his eyes at a suggestion you had made - and that you'll crack a smile soon. He'll say something dumb, play your favourite song. Tell you he's sorry. Pull over, and refuse to drive until you hold his hand. 

But your hand has a ring on it now. He'd feel it lodged beneath his fingers. Would be indented with the mark of commitment from another man.

And that's what makes him crack. 

"Engaged," he laughs quietly, not an ounce of humour in his voice as he shakes his head. His eyes stay on the road. He can't look at you. Knows he wouldn't be able to look away.

You're silent for a moment. Consider not responding - but his tone bothers you. 

"Uh-huh. We've established that - but you've no right to pass judgement."

Jungkook doesn't want to pass judgement. He wants to be vulgar. 

Wants to remind you of the way you were taking his cock a matter of months ago. Wants to ask if your fiance hits the spot like he knows he used to. Wants to know if your body is still stained by the colour of his claim; rosy handprints on your ass, plum bruises on your chest left by his lips. Wants to know if it's his name that reverberates in your head when you bite onto pillows. Wants to know if your fiance even fucks you well enough to make you do that. He doubts it.

He doesn't want to know the answers to any of those, though.

"I'm not passing judgement, C," he says in perhaps the most judgemental tone you've veer heard, flicking his indicator to merge into the next lane. "What's the dress like? Can't be white, can it?"

Bastard.

"We're going traditional," you lie. It hasn't even been discussed yet.  You also don't plan on sticking around long enough to see it through to the big day, but that's none of Jungkook's business. "Hanboks only. No modern dress."

Funny, Jungkook thinks. Had never pictured you as the traditional type. Then again, never pictured you walking down the aisle with anyone but him.

Truth be told, it's not like he's ready for any of that. He's not good with the future. Not anymore. Moves from one bad decision to the next. No point in planning ahead.

He disregards the flashing amber light over the pedestrian crossing, narrowly missing it as it changes to red. His foot is on the gas, and he doesn't seem to be easing.  You adjust in your seat. Cross your legs. Hold onto the door handle. 

"Slow down."

The way he ignores you is childish, and the way he speeds up is even more so.

"Jungkook-"

"Don't tell me how to drive my own damn car," he snaps. 

"Then don't drive it like a fucking idiot!"

The tyres screech to a halt. You're almost certain you can smell burnt rubber.

Around you, the road is empty. You're just a few blocks over from the bridge, not far enough for the coast to be clear, and you both know it. There's silence. No static from his radio, no chatter of former lovers; just his engine, purring softly, echoing into the night.

Neon lights from the amalgamation of churches and noraebangs rain down on you through his windows, painting your skin in a red haze. The beam of his headlights on the road ahead is intrusive, decrepit buildings shown in all their miserable glory; paint peeling from the walls, rust forming beneath nails like tears on cheeks, railings covering windows to keep outdated electronics protected. You hate this area. Always have done. Can't believe you used to consider it home.

"Fine then," he snaps. "Get out. Walk yourself home. See what I care. Don't get hit."

He expects resistance. Expects you to defy him. It's what he wants. Wants you choosing to stay - but like fuck are you gonna let him speak to you like that.

It's so hard knowing what's false with Jungkook. 

Some days, you think it was all ingenuine; that you've never seen the real him. 

On others, you tell yourself that the version of Jungkook you'd first met on the bridge was a facade; that you'd worn him down. Seen within. 

Most days, though, you believe the version of Jungkook you'd met on that very first night is exactly who he is. 

Everything that followed? A carefully crafted performance for an audience of one.

And now it seems like he wants a standing ovation - and who are you to deny such a skilled actor his applause?

Yanking just hard enough to piss him off, you pop open your door and stand beside the car. Applause comes in form of his door slamming shut, and the click of your heels piercing the emptiness in the air as you walk up the sidewalk.

"Where are you going?" He shouts after you from his window - but you just hold your middle finger up in his direction and continue onwards. "C?"

You wouldn't tell him even if you knew. All you know is that you selfishly kind of hope he'll call after you again. He does. You smile to yourself, and ignore him. 

Cursing to himself in the driver's seat of his car, he revs the engine back up. 

There's a sinking feeling in your chest, but you're the one who put it there. 

Only have yourself to blame.

You choose not to watch as his car hurtles past you. The sound is soul-destroying enough as it is.

Jungkook takes a moment to consider his choices. The obvious is to let you go - but he's done that once before, and has hated it ever since. He knows chasing after you will only end in him chasing his own tail, but he's been doing that ever since you left, as it is. What difference will it make? At least this way he can say he tried.

He pulls into a side road.

Derelict and dilapidated, it's no place for a car like his - but then again nowhere in this city is. He sticks out like a sore thumb. None of the other Pony's are polished quite so well, no have been lowered like his. None of them rag about in the dark of night, only for him to fix his faux pas in the light of day the following morning. He'll never let it rust. Never let it falter. Never let it down; and in turn, it won't let him down either.

It will always take him exactly where he needs to be - and right now, he thinks it's beside you.

Slamming his door shut far gentler than you had, Jungkook pushes the key into its lock and twists it shut. He doesn't want to use the electric locks today. Feels like the only way to do things right is to go analogue. Old school.

Wishes there was a way he could go back in time with you, too.

His feet splash in the shallow puddles as he trundles back down the alley on foot, pulling the hood of his jacket over his head. He's still in his workout gear - a pair of joggers and some beat-up trainers - but doesn't care for keeping up appearances.

He waits as you approach. You notice him immediately, but make no acknowledgement of his presence. Just keep on walking. Even when he begins to walk alongside you, not a single word is spoken. Cars pass by, passengers gazing out of their windows at the strange pair walking side by side yet miles apart. 

You wonder if they make assumptions about you like you know would.

If you were to see yourself, you'd guess that you were angry. A couple in the midst of a fight but too far from home to go your separate ways, maybe. The way your arms are crossed definitely suggests ice to the relationship, but of what the relationship is, you don't think you'd be able to tell. Lovers? Friends? Enemies? All of the above?

You wonder if they'll make up a life for you both. Wonder if they'll resolve the argument they must think you're having. Consider that maybe in their mind, you get a happy ending.

Maybe your observers will be just as naive as you once were. A fool with a fragile heart who gave it to a man who didn't know his strength.

Or perhaps he did. Perhaps he just never cared if he were to break it.

Jeon Jungkook; a rebel with a cause, just without care.

Asshole, you think. Wind whips loose stands hair against your face, cold despite the heat of summer that has now arrived. A storm is coming this evening, but you don't plan on being around to see it.

It's a shame. You've been looking forward to it. Hoseok's away. Work retreat to Yeosu. Some sort of training programme. You had anticipated a night alone watching the raindrops sinking down his apartment window.

The idea of going 'home' right now doesn't appeal to you. 

Though when you come to think about it, home is standing next to you as you wait at a zebra crossing, waiting on a green light.

When green lights up the sky, you continue forward. Take a left a left when you reach the hospital. Walk seemingly without direction and yet there's only one place this road leads to. Jungkook knows it well. Isn't really sure what you're doing. Thinks you're playing some kind of joke.

And yet he doesn't speak up. Just follows. 

The sign of the KTX station lights up the walkway, the rattle of overground trains polluting the silence between you. There are only a few more services for the night, but it means that freight trains are gearing into action, and they're so much louder than the passenger trains.

As much as he might not know what you're doing, you don't know either. Haven't really thought any of this through. 

All you know is you just don't want to stop walking with him. 

You hate yourself for it. Hate how weak he makes you feel. Hate that he gets to be okay and just live his life after ruining yours. Maybe you're misplacing your blame. Know full well that you've made some bad decisions as of late. Would take them back if you could.

Jungkook is one of those bad decisions you wish you could undo. If only life came with a rewind button. Ctrl+Z. Reboot. Restore to factory settings. 

And yet the idea of not knowing him - the sound of his laugh in the early hours of a Sunday morning, the feel of his cheeks a few days post-shave, the pressure of his lips on the crown of your head - fills you with dread. You may hate the memories, but you don't want to lose them, either.

You know Daegu's KTX station well. Hanger left as you enter, straight towards the self-service kiosks. Pick one that accepts card, then rest your palms on the pale blue plastic casing of the machine. There's a touchscreen full of choices - endless opportunities - but Daegu's KTX autofill route is the only one that you care for. The only one that feels right. 

Busan.

You tap through to the next menu, ignoring Jungkook's presence beside you. You don't care what he does. Are only thinking about yourself. 

Funny, really. He's only thinking about you.

Jungkook knocks your hand to the side to stop you from pressing through to the transaction screen. He reaches over a little further. Presses the small plus sign next to 'passengers'. Says nothing as it jumps from '1' to '2'. 

You just watch as he clicks on through to the following screen, and slides his card into the slot that's flashing green at you. There's no conversation. No acknowledgement of what he's done; just acceptance. 

The machine spits out the tickets into a metal tray, so you take yours and turn on your heel, leaving him to collect his own. He can follow you if he likes. You won't wait for him. 

Realistically, it's not like you'll be apart for long. The assigned seats are side by side.

Of course, you could just leave. Buy a ticket elsewhere. Go home. Head down towards the subway and lose him in a sea of people.

The possibilities are endless.

Yet you find yourself checking the departure screen for train 071, instead. 

The menu flickers through the upcoming departures, before finally falling back to the screen 071 is on. Platform two, departing in four minutes. 

It's enough time to get to your track, but not enough time to run to your favourite coffee stand. You just sigh. Today is just disappointment after disappointment. 

Jungkook walks straight past you. Makes no acknowledgement of you. 

Just heads towards the exit for the tracks. Another sigh leaves your lips.

But you find yourself following him.

You're the one orbiting him, now.

And like the planets you're convinced rule your life, it doesn't feel like you can stop any time soon.

Your train is already on the platform by the time you make it down the stairs, quietly purring in its bay. Doing one final check of the platform, the conductor blows his whistle just as you're hopping on. 

Heading down the aisle, you're displeased to see the train is only half full, knowing it means your assigned seats will be beside one another - and once you reach carriage four, you can see the top of his head poking out from the row you've been allocated.

It's interesting how he's taken the aisle seat, when his ticket is for the window. Still, questioning it means engaging in conversation, and you're still pretending like he doesn't exist - to the point where you don't ask him to move. You just step over him, and cringe at the way you know your ass brushes the top of his knees from the awkward positioning.

If he were in a better mood, he'd smile, aware of your annoyance and the fact you're probably cursing out your own ass in your head.

But Jungkook is in a foul fucking mood, and all he wants to do is hold your goddamn hand. 

He knows can't. 

So he won't. 

He'll just sit, and stew, and lament the fact he's on a train to fucking Busan with you.

The jokes he knows he would have cracked six months ago are lost, now. There'll be no nonsensical conversations over who would die first in a zombie apocalypse, no dumb declarations from Jungkook about how he'd protect you no matter what.

Would have been a lie, anyway. 

In the row ahead of you, a teenage couple share a pair of headphones. 

Between the crack in the seats, you can see their heads leaning together, hairs melting into one another. The girl is peroxide blonde, but has dark roots growing through. It's a bit like Jungkook's hair used to be. Her (presumed) boyfriend has a streak of blonde peaking through his dark hair. She no doubt did it for him (again, you presume). The sight of it makes you feel sick.

Jungkook notices it too. Watches as the girl flicks through the boys playlist. Searches up a song he doesn't know, and presses play. When she locks the phone and puts it down on her boyfriends lap, she shuffles closer against him. Jungkook feels a little unwell, too.

The silence continues.

It's only 45 minutes to Busan. Not a long haul by any stretch of the imagination - and yet it feels endless this evening. When the train eventually rolls into his hometown, Jungkook thinks he's going crazy. Hates being alone with his brain. Hates that you hate being alone with him, too.

The hushed nature of your pairing prevails as you make your way onto the subway. Rammed full of late-night punters, you're forced to stand by the entryway. He stands behind you, and holds the bar that's over your head. Doesn't say sorry when the movements of the carriage cause him to lean against you slightly. He pulls away from you as quickly as he can, but you're surprised to find that you miss the weight of his body.

But of course you do. You've been missing it for months, now.

The subway trundles through underground tunnels, metal screeching every so often, more and more passengers departing - until it's just you and him. You take a seat, and so does he. You're opposite one another, eyes unashamed as you stare one another out. There's no trust. You're like cats, stalking their prey.

Or should that be you're like a cat. Jungkook is a lion. Could rip you to shreds if he wants. Has done it before. Your scars are barely healed. Can still feel him all over your skin. It's insidious. Makes you want to take a fucking potato peeler to your body, just to rid yourself of your memories.

The way he looks at you, all dark and brooding, like he's some kind of 90's heartthrob that never stood the test of time, makes your fingerprint-shaped scars burn.

You ride the subway until the very final stop; not because you wanted to, just because you were following his lead.

Stupid, really. He was following yours. Of course he was.

The static voice of the automated alert lets you know you've reached Dadaepo.

Jungkook knows it well. Was his favourite place to explore as a kid. A hidden rocky alcove just beyond the cliff walk was the site of many discoveries as a kid; sea glass, bugs he can't remember the names of, and - in his later years - the scent of marijuana.

The fact you're still giving one another the silent treatment is comically unbelievable. It's been upwards of two hours since his car door slammed shut back in Daegu. Even longer, actually. Closer to three hours.

There's something so childish about how petty you both are - but at least this way, you can't miscommunicate. 

You just don't communicate at all, and you think you prefer it that way.

The waves roll in as you sit, staring at nothing. Side by side. Miles apart. It all becomes a bit much for Jungkook. He knows he shouldn't make a sound, but he thinks he likes it better when you fight. At least that way he gets to hear your voice, no matter how scathing it can be.

"The last train back is in half an hour," Jungkook says quietly, unsure of how much time has passed. Dadaepo is fifty minutes away from the station. You'll have missed it, and are fully aware of it.

So you just shrug.

"Not have a fiancé to get home to?" He questions, and almost manages not to sound bitter. Almost.

Again, you shrug.

Hoseok is away for the week - an all-expenses training retreat over in Yeosu. 

When your Father had still been in the police force, before moving into local politics, he'd gone on the same training programme. It's a yearly excursion. Just an excuse to get shitfaced with his crew and a chance to slip his wedding ring into his wallet, knowing your mother would never find out.

She'd always know. She was the one who did his laundry, after all.

Unlike your mother, however, you won't spend the week in a foul mood because of it.

That's not to say you won't spend the week in a foul mood - it's just that the reason for your awful mood is currently sitting next to you looking over the East China Sea. 

"You should stop concerning yourself with my life," you tell him, voice quiet - but he hears you crystal clear, regardless. He's listening out for only you. Fuck the waves, fuck the dog walkers, fuck the traffic and the coffee shop soundtrack blaring just a few feet behind the woodland. You're the only one he hears.

He considers saying nothing, but just can't help himself - so he scoffs, and says, "shall I stop breathing, too, while I'm at it?"

It's a stupid comparison to make. His life doesn't depend on you. You tell him so.

"You need to breathe to stay alive. You never needed me to stay alive." 

Never needed me at all.

"I don't know, C. Kang was pretty pissed when we let you get away," he says as he purses his lips. It's a miracle his nose still looks the same as it always did - unless it just got broken so many times that it somehow snapped back into place.

Thing is, Jungkook's not really thinking about that. The pain subdued. After a few weeks, it was like it never happened.

But the ache in his chest remained. His one source of chronic pain, and you're the one who held the knife. Sure, he's the one who guided your hands. Pulled them into his chest. Inflicted it upon himself. 

"Your coworker," Jungkook finally sighs. He's not even sure why he's asking. He doesn't want the answer. "Is it... The ring. Is it him?"

And while you want to hurt Jungkook as much as you possibly can without laying a single finger on him, you know you've done Yoongi enough damage. Makes you sick thinking about his tender face; the way it'd light up around you. You think of Jieun, and the time spent together in the shop and it's so consuming that you can't even think of an appropriate response to Jungkook.

"Yoongi," you correct, but Jungkook already knew his name. Just didn't wanna acknowledge him as more than a meagre colleague. "No. It's not Yoongi."

But just for a night? It had been Yoongi. Or was it two nights? Your head taunts you. You fucked Yoongi. Fucked his life up. Fucked it all. Whatever becomes of you is what you deserve.

Jungkook is unaware of this as he clamps his lips together to stop the smile that's begging to break through his hard exterior.

"You ever..." You begin to mumble, but then realise who you're talking to. You don't want to converse with him. "Nevermind."

He knows this. Doesn't care. "Have I ever what?"

There's a moment of silence; waves lapping against the shoreline in place of your words.

"You ever do something that just destroys you?" 

Your words linger like the brief seconds waves will take to kiss the shoreline; white bubbles sinking into sand, murky water retracing its steps and dissolving into the currents.

"Destroys you?" he asks, not because he needs clarification, but because he can't possibly imagine what you've done.

You simply nod.

And so he takes a moment to think. Decides it's about time he gave you some honesty.

"Yeah," he says gently. Can see there's something you're grappling with. Doesn't want to intrude, though. "I've done things that have destroyed me, C. You know I have."

The silence resumes once more. It's louder now.

If you listen closely enough, you can hear that chime in your stomach again. It's faint. You ignore it.

Jungkook can hear it too. It rings and rings like tinnitus. He can't ignore it. He can pretend that he detests it, though.

Moonlight ripples on the surface of the water. It rolls into shore, then pulls away again. Gets just close enough to touch, but not far enough to soak your feet.

It runs away from you as soon as it gets close, and the irony isn't lost on Jungkook. He'd always thought you'd behaved like the moon and her tides, after all. Cyclic. Endless. Eternal.

It sort of feels apt that you'd end up back here.

Yeah, he thinks as he refuses to look in your direction. Too consumed with the way the vast expanse almost looks like a black hole. Just like the tides.

But waves can roll up on any beach, and the moon caresses every inch of the earth during her slumber. There's nothing unique about the pair of you. Nothing special. 

Insignificance has always been a fear of his. A life that could be chalked up to birth, then death; records in a library system forgotten about for years upon years. His impact? Null.

He'd seen it with his mother - her vibrancy, her love for life, for others - and how she'd all but been forgotten. Sometimes, he feels like he's the only one who remembers her.

Even his father seems to forget why he's in such a sorry state. His brother has a new family, now. And what does Jungkook have?

No family. That disintegrated. Yeah, they're still around, but they're not present. Not there for him when he needs them.

No career. Sure, he can get work wherever electricity is, but he's under Kang's thumb, now. He trains, and he fights. Time for honest work is non-existent.

No love. He's never been the type to need a relationship, but he'd gotten a little foolish. Gotten used to the comfort of another human. Now that he knows what it feels like - how nice it can be - he feels half alive without it.

The Jungkook beside you is just the same as the Jungkook you first met.

He's a little stronger, a little broader. Is missing a few of his piercings, and wears his hair dark now instead of the blonde you had always adored.

He's exactly the same, and yet forever changed.

He digs his fingers into the sand beside his thighs. The grains slip through the hollow gaps between his knuckles. Even the things within his grasp always seems to get away from him. 

He hates the silence. Hates that he never knows what to say anymore.

And thankfully for him, you hate it just as much. 

"Fighting a lot, these days, aren't you?" You ask, not that you need any clarification. You saw a note in one of Hoseok's files earlier on in the week. Just a small scrawl about Kang's, and the illegal gambling ring he's running. JJK had been written down, with a set of odds next to his name. Pretty good odds. Baby is a champion. You'd be proud, if the circumstances weren't so harrowing.

"Not any more so than usual," he lies, shutting down the conversation as soon as you start it. He just can't help himself. It's like he's hard-wired to fight.

You turn to look in his direction and are momentarily caught by how ethereal he looks when basking in silver moonlight. The tip of his nose looks cold, and yet his eyes are warm. Watery. Welcoming you to dive right in.

Sink, or swim?

He's got a bruise on the top of his cheekbone, and a small graze just in front of his ear. It's clear to see that he's been through the wringer recently. There's really no point in lying to you.

"No?" You ask, just to let him know you're aware he's full of shit.

"What does it matter if I am?"

"It doesn't."

And so silence settles again. Neither of you know how to interact with one another anymore. It's awkward and uncomfortable, and you both hate it - and yet there's nowhere either of you would rather be. No one else you'd rather be in discomfort with.

Time gets away from you. It chases through the night, just like his car used to do down the backroads of Daegu, with you in the passenger seat and your hand beneath his on the gear stick.

You wonder if he ever thinks of it; if he ever thinks of you in the same way you think of him. 

You don't ask him, because no matter what the answer will be, you'll convince yourself it's a lie.

Midnight creeps in, and so does the chill of night air. It may be summer, but the sea breeze can be biting at times.

Jungkook's fine - his workout gear is keeping the heat in well, but you're underdressed. Huddled up and clearly not enjoying yourself but refusing to voice discomfort, Jungkook is the one who forces you up. Says it's stupid to still be out by the water. Tells you that there will be loads of bugs about, soon.

You both know that the bugs have been out since dusk. Leaving now makes no difference.

Ignoring the hand he holds out as you get to your feet, you rid your legs of sand, and head towards the pathway through the small wooded area. 

Neither of you have any idea what to do. The keys in Jungkook's pockets are rendered useless, his car still down in a back alley of Daegu, and the buses have stopped running. Subway, too. 

You've no bag with you, just your phone (that's dangerously low on charge) and a card tucked into the back of the case. 

Jungkook's phone is new. Holds it's charge well. He's not worried about it.

He's got his wallet, too, so at least he's a little bit more foreign-city-ready than you'd been upon your decision to run off to Busan. He's glad he came with you, now.

He figures he'll just stay at his Dad's place - but it means getting a taxi, and he really can't be fucked with an hour's drive this late at night.

He's unaware that the card in the back of your phone isn't yours. It's under Hoseok's name. He gets a notification every time it's used. It's why you're so selective about how you spend your money. 

You've no ID with you, either. Left it in your purse back in Hoseok's apartment. Hadn't really expected to end up in Busan, in all honestly.

Especially not with Jungkook.

If you wanna check in to a hotel - which is the only option, really - you're gonna need your ID. Standard policy around these parts. No ID, no room.

You tell Jungkook this. 

He sighs. Grates his jaw a little. 

"And you didn't think that maybe it would be smart to take your ID out with you? What if you'd gotten in an accident, huh? No one would have known who to call, 'cause they wouldn't know who you are."

"I was hardly gonna get in an acci-"

"How do you know?" He cuts you off. "You can't plan these kinds of things, CC. Accidents just happen."

"Is that what this is, then?" You scoff, folding your arms over your chest as you walk a little further away from him up the sandy sidewalk. "Another calamity of yours? Just ended up here accidentally?"

Sometimes, he considers kissing you just to stop your from spouting off at him over nonsensical issues.

Jungkook thinks it's obvious he ended up in Busan for one reason, and one reason alone:

He'll follow you to the end of the earth, if it means he gets to be with you. 

He's hardly gonna tell you that, though, is he?

"Ended up here cause I missed the beach-" And I missed you, too. "- but it's late," Jungkook says as you meander back up the sidewalk without much aim, and nods across the road to a beachfront hotel. "Let's just crash here and figure out how to get home in the morning?"

For reasons you can't understand, you find yourself agreeing. When you explain that you can't use your card, he shrugs. Says he'll cover it. Says he doesn't care. 

It's a different story when you're in the hotel. 

The presence of the concierge makes you feel unsure of yourself. Reminds you of how embarrassed you are by what Jungkook did to you; how foolish you had felt. You feel the need to defend yourself.

"Do you have any suites available?" You ask the concierge with a smile so sweet it could rot his inside. He thinks you're sweet. Thinks Jungkook should smile more. Knows he'd be smiling if he had you alone in a hotel room.

"All booked out, I'm afraid," the concierge says as he checks the screen in front of him. The glare reflects in his glasses, and you wonder how many times he's been caught out looking at things he shouldn't. Not just at work, but in general. He seems like a sweet kid - but a kid nonetheless.

"What's the most expensive room you have available, then?" You query instead.

Jungkook shakes his head. Looks at his feet. Tenses his jaw. Thinks you're fucking unbelievable.

You know he's got money problems. Know he's fending off sharks from his poor Father's back. Know that the only reason he fucked you over was to finally have a decent payday.

And yet you choose to do this? Knowing he won't kick up a fuss in public?

Spineless bitch. Spiteful. 

But, oh, how you love to hit him where it hurts.

The concierge is none the wiser of Jungkook's discomfort. Tells you both that there's a deluxe sea-view room left.

"It's gone midnight, so I can give you a discounted rate," he says, and still quotes a price that would make even a black card owner raise an eyebrow.

Jungkook looks at you. Holds your gaze. Passes over his card. Waits till the concierge is retrieving your keys to hiss, "you're the most expensive mistake I've ever made."

You just smile. "Shouldn't live life with regrets. They give you wrinkles."

"And stress gives you grey hair," he counters, insinuating that you've got some growing through. The concierge returns to his position behind the desk, so Jungkook plays his role up. "You been stressed lately, baby?"

The concierge coughs. Holds out your key. "Seventh floor. Follow the corridor from the elevator right to the end, and you'll find room number one." Jungkook takes the key with a polite nod. "If you need anything else, the front desk is open twenty-four hours. I do hope you enjoy your stay."

The tension between you and Jungkook is palpable. The little routine you've cooked up in which neither of you speak unless it's to bait each other out continues. Doesn't end until you're in the room - and what a fucking room it is. 

Crisp white sheets on a bed that is far too big; a bathtub in the corner of the room instead of the bathroom. Huge windows that let the midnight view of the ocean pour in, and chiffon curtains that will keep you hidden from the outside world. You won't close the blinds. Will want the morning sunlight to bathe you in its glory; make you feel like you belong to the days instead of the nights. 

So much of your relationship with Jungkook was hidden in the shadows of Daegu nights, but it had been different in Busan. It's hard to pretend as if you don't miss it.

Hard, but not impossible.

You toss him a pillow and the stiff cotton throw from the end of the bed. "Here. The bathtub looks cosy. Sweet dreams."

"I'm not sleeping in the fucking bath," he laughs, but it's full of scorn. He finds no humour in this situation. "If I pay for a hotel room, I'm sleeping in the bed. Bath is all yours."

And yet you stay put.

When Jungkook turns off the main light? You stay put.

When he grasps the back of his sweater and pulls it over his head? You stay put.

When he says, 'No? Not fancy the bath?' as he tosses the pillow you had thrown at him back onto the empty side of the bed? You stay put.

When he walks around to that side? When he pushes the duvet back? When his weight dents the mattress? The scent of his aftershave intrudes on your senses? The sound of his bare skin nestling into the sheets is all you can hear? When he turns his back to you? Turns off the bedside lamp?

You stay fucking put.

And you know you shouldn't, and know that this is all kinds of wrong, but my god, it's all you've wanted for months: the past. All that's missing is your arm looped over his waist.

When he turns to face you? Looks at you, eyes all glassy, lips pursed? Tries to get a read on you?

You don't move a muscle. Just look at him right back. Wonder how he can still look so beautiful in such darkness. Wonder if his hair always spilt onto the pillow as it does now, and you'd just never realised when he was blonde. 

And then you wonder if maybe someone else had been in this position with him during your absence. 

It would be okay if they have. Wouldn't be their fault. Wouldn't be his, either. You're the one who left. Have a ring around your finger, now, no matter how loosely. Would be incredibly unfair to expect Jungkook to spend the last few months alone.

But the more you think about it, the more you get caught up in your own head, and how he'd kissed you beneath his shower, skin coated in red dye. Has you thinking about the way he'd always kiss you as he came, and the 'forever's he'd whispered in the dark of night. 

So fucking cruel of him. He always knew that forever wasn't an option. There was no reason he had to pretend there was.

And maybe you're just tired, or maybe you've just been keeping it all bottled up for so long that the pressure had finally reached full capacity, but you just can't help yourself as you say, "why couldn't you just leave me alone?"

Your brows furrow. Lips pout. You know what's coming and you can't even be bothered to stop the tears. Maybe he should know how badly he affected you. Maybe it's the only way he'll understand. Maybe then he'll care.

For now, you can't bring yourself to think too hard. You just let the tears fall.

"C'mon, C," Jungkook whispers as his thumb strokes over your cheek. His hands are a little rough. He's been working on his car a lot lately, and hasn't taken time to look after himself, instead. It's self-sabotage. Thinks he doesn't deserve to feel good. Physically, mentally, whatever. "This isn't you."

Oh, it's laughable. Hilarious, you think, that he seems to think he knows who the fuck you are. You wanna scream. Wanna tell him that he knows fuck all. Tell him that you never let him see even an ounce of what makes you 'you'.

Denial is a strange thing. Has you lying to yourself like it's a bible oath. Jeon Jungkook knows exactly who you are. You just wish that he didn't.

"You've no idea who I am," you whisper back through partially gritted teeth, that are stopping your sobs from leaking through.

Jungkook purses his lips together. Shakes his head. Strokes away another tear. Is almost silent when manages to croak out, "I wish that were true." 

And you might be wrong, but it sounds like he's holding back a tear or two, as well. 

You reach over to toy with the key around his neck. It's warm in your fingers, the heat of his skin keeping it cosy. It's amazing how warm he always is, you think. Never met anyone like it. When your eyes flick up to his, ever so briefly, you notice that they seem warm, too. Just a byproduct of his body temperature, you decide. 

"Why coke?" You whisper as you bring the key to your lips. Press it against them, just to feel the pressure of something that belongs to him.

He'd kiss you now, if you asked him to.

But you won't, so he doesn't. 

He just shrugs instead. 

"Why do we do anything of the things we do, C?" He pauses, but doesn't anticipate a response from you. Just continues, instead. "To feel alive? To feel closer to death? I don't know."

Lost one drug, he thinks to himself. It's just a replacement. 

And it's funny, because aside from the lines he'd snorted on the first night you'd returned just to fucking cope with it all, he's not touched it. Thinks if he could just touch you, he'd never go near coke again. 

You hold the key to his lips, now. Wait for him to press his lips against it. He does so, keeping his eyes locked on yours. Funny. Seems the key works on something, after all.

When you pull the key away, you let the chain hang slack, before dropping it to his chest. The ridges of the metal are sharp against his skin, but he's numb to it. Can only feel the print of your fingertips and the scars that are embedded into his skin from them.

"You should stop," you whisper, stroking down the bridge of his nose with the side of your index finger. His eyes close. Jaw tenses. He inhales. "It'll ruin this pretty nose of yours."

And then he smiles; eyes still closed, lip ring flipping in the corner of his mouth. 

But the tepid movement of your finger doesn't stop. It reaches the tip of his nose. Trails down his septum. Encroaches on his cupid bow - and then it comes to rest on his lips.

Just like the key, he presses against it. Kisses the side of your finger. Keeps his eyes closed. Lets it linger. 

He hears the change in your breathing. How you inhale a little sharper than before. How it sounds painful. 

Doesn't wanna open his eyes. Doesn't want to look at you, knowing that you'll probably look so tragically hurt that it would be captivating, in a way. He'd wanna kiss it all better, but knows better than to attempt such a thing. 

"I don't think I can, C," he eventually says. Opens his eyes. Is devastated by your beauty. "Don't think I'll ever be able to stop."

You both know he isn't talking about coke.

"Then it'll ruin you," you whisper, pretending as if you still are.

He just nods. "So let it."

[midnightnautilus]

Hatchetfield dashboard simulator

————-

🧸 hatchetfieldtoyzone Follow

Come into Toy Zone and save big on all our newest items!

Just…don’t buy them all please you know who you are - Mod L

🐿️ #1sugiestan Follow

I don’t know what you’re talking about 😄😊✨

🧸 hatchetfieldtoyzone Follow

dude you’re one of our only followers im serious I know it’s you

25 Notes

☄️ hellyeahspace Follow

“my star sign makes me this” “my birthday makes me that”

Assign yourself with whatever Pokémon you wanna be. rules were made to be broken

🎸 breakingthelauter Follow

Hell yeah OP you’re so confident

👾 tumblrsfavoriteweeb Follow

THE MAYOR’S DAUGHTER?

256 Notes

⚓️ the-real-linda-monroe Follow

All right, a little notice for all of you.

Yes, I am the ACTUAL Linda Monroe, President of the Hatchetfield Boating Society. This account will be primarily used to keep track of my gorgeous sons and not to associate with the rest of you rabble. If anyone harms a hair on their head I’m suing you out of existence 😇✨👍👌

👨‍⚖️ garygoldsteinattorneyatlaw Follow

You’ll be faced with ME, Tumblr!

⚓️ the-real-linda-monroe Follow

Jesus Christ Gary you’re here too?

43 Notes

🍏 ihaveinfinityalternateaccounts Follow

god they never tell you how tiring truck driving is. like yeah i could just “zip zap zop here are your products” but no for some reason im driving this big fucking tanker down the highway. good thing im basically dead and dont need to take a piss every 2 hours. how do yall do it? well at least you wont be doing it much longer, yeah?

✨ imintofortnite Follow

op. op are you /srs or /j

🍏 ihaveinfinityalternateaccounts Follow

Are those words? I never learned the lingo. you keep your secrets.

🦅 fighting4america Follow

Wilbur, I know this is you. You can’t hide any longer. Please, stop this before everyone gets in serious danger

🍏 ihaveinfinityalternateaccounts Follow

oh look who it is mutuals! that’s a thing you say yeah? John how dare you come onto my turf XD

I’m RATIOING you John and there’s NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT

🔬 nerdwithaperd Follow

I feel like we just walked in on two dramatic exes who have no idea how tumblr works

3,678 Notes

[lost-girl-2021]

I'll elaborate more later, but I'm coming off a 12 hour shift and about to sleep before my next 12 tonight, so enjoy the tight I had on my drive home this morning:

I see your (our, I also wrote this lol) City Kid Spider with his skateboard and asthma and raise you Country/Small Town Kid Spider.

Instead of a big city called Pandora, think of a small town in the middle of nowhere. There are more trees than people (as it should be, if you ask Kiri) and everybody knows everything about everyone. News travels fast, even faster if you post of the actual real life bulletin board outside the single grocery store in town (yes, it is a Walmart)

Spider lives in a treehouse him and his friends found as kids. He's run away so often they've stopped taking down the "Have You Seen Me?" Posters hung around town. Everyone knows that Spider guy lives in the woods. The younger kids drop off candy and cans from their Mama's pantry as offerings to the Lord of the Woods.

Some of the parents think he's on drugs, most of them tell their kids to steer clear of him. Better safe than sorry, when it comes to him. (Haven't you heard, his father killed his mother? He looks just like him, too.)

Quaritch doesn't quite fit into this world, but imagine he's from the Deep South, not this small town-almost a suburb-almost the country wishwash. (Think Tennessee vs Texas. Different cultures/experiences entirely) When meets his son, he's expecting a younger version of him, for lack of a better idea. He doesn't care if he's bad at school or has a bad attitude, he even expects it, cuz that's how he was at 15/16.

Spider is an amalgamation of all things Pandora. Pandora, with it's strong Native American ties and even stronger traditions. He wears his hair long like most of his friends do. He does hunt and fish and ride around on the Sully's ATV any chance he gets. He takes the familiar winding roads sharp and fast, his beat up, barely running truck gliding down the street like they're flying.

He does still have asthma, but this kid has not been to a doctor since he was ten and didn't care enough to pay attention to what his foster parents told him most of the time. That wheezy thing his chest does? Rub some dirt on it, he'll be fine. So what if he needs to sleep it off or pass out to feel better. He's fine. He's tough.

Jake is ofc from a big ass city, stationed in the city after an incident with the elementary school nobody will talk about. He met Neytiri, a police officer and the mayor's daughter, and she showed him the beauty of a small place like Pandora (knowing people you see walking the street, feeling safe enough to leave your doors unlocked, big town events, etc)

The whole reason Quaritch is the Bad Guy is because he was trying to (eh legally not really) evict/kick people off their land to drill for oil. Pesticides on farmer's crops, cutting fences, building expensive shops to drive the price up, etc.

Lo'ak and Neteyam are roughhousing, military kids who follow every order to a tee only to fuck around and find out every time they're left alone.

Kiri is the weird kid. She cut her hair short last summer and wears a lot of handmade bracelets that rattle whenever she moves. She wears overalls with daisys on them she painted herself and flowy flower patterns, only to pair it with the muddiest, ugliest boots you've ever seen. She talks back and took much for most people's liking and doesn't seem to care that people think she's weird. Or at least doesn't show it.

Tuk is loved and lovable across all universes.

Boom

Done.

For.now....

Bedtime. Goodnight.

[thebellearchives]

𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘

~ Vash the Stampede ; Trigun Stampede

✧˚ · . S Y N O P S I S : in the aftermath of Knives stealing another plant, you run after broken-hearted Vash to let him know you’ll always be by his side

‧₊˚ c o n t e n t s : vash x gn!reader, angst, very vague mentions of corpses, blood, and injuries

‧₊˚ a / n : currently fighting a writers block so i’ll offer you this old drabble 🙇🏼‍♀️ also yes i’m obsessed with comparing vash to the sun and sky let me be )’:

You and your thomas had barely been able to leave the crumbling town. You were on your knees, hands grasping the sand underneath and your lungs trying their best to go back into healthy shape. When your eyes finally dared to reach out to the night sky, the first thing they spotted was a blond man. He was muscular, and was wearing a strange suit that looked like it could’ve been his second skin, white and with strange blue patterns. Thousands of blades emerged from his back like tentacles, some were struck directly into the sand, lifting him up from the floor, and others went up into the sky, wrapping around the city’s plant.

Your mind had gone blank, and only two words were in it, repeating themselves endlessly while you stared directly at the man. Millions Knives.

He wore Vash’s face, but still he looked so different. His hair wasn’t bright like the sun, it was a lighter, dead shade yellow. And his eyes weren’t like a cloudless day, they were a cold ice desert, ruthless and merciless. He landed carefully on top of a big car that rushed away from the town, some of the blades retracting back into a hooded typed of clothing. He didn’t see you, and neither did the people that were with him driving. They just went away.

“Vash” your voice whispered, breathless as your mind went back to the blonde who had tried with all his might to stop his brother and failed “I need to find Vash.”

Your body acted on its own. You ignored your aching limbs and the bleeding cuts in your skin, running across the debris. It didn’t take much time to find a group of survivors. The sound of crying, coughing and panting hit your ears like a sandstorm. You almost tripped when you reached them, searching frantically for the blond, but when he was nowhere to be seen you searched for the town’s mayor instead. Making your way through the group of wailing people and dragging your feet towards the person furthest away, you panted desperately.

“Paul” your voice raised, but he didn’t turn around “Paul!”

Your throat gave out in protest, making you cough.

“What” he replied hastily.

“Wh… Where’s Vash?!” again, he didn’t reply, but patience wasn’t exactly your strongest suit “where is he?!”

“I sent him away. He’s the reason this whole thing happened to us. He’s the reason.”

“W-what?” you blinked in confusion, your thomas’ steps caught up to your side.

“He’s the reason!!” he yelled at you now in frustrated desperation, despite him being turned away and hiding his face it was clear he was now sobbing “if he hadn’t set foot in the town none of this would’ve happened.”

“What are you taking about?!“

“He's the Humanoid Typhoon after all, isn’t he? Everywhere he goes he brings chaos and destruction.”

“He saved your life! Multiple times!”

“And he destroyed the town!”

You gulped, staring at him as if burning him alive with your pupils only was possible.

“You’re an asshole”

“What?”

“You’re an asshole! Millions Knives destroyed your town, not Vash!”

“They’re the same.”

“You are the same!” you screamed at him this time, thinking about how Vash must have felt when he sent him away and blamed him for everything “you are the same as everyone else, this is why Knives hates us.”

You turned around and mounted your thomas and patted its side.

“Find him.”

Without a seconds hesitation, your thomas started running away from the now ruined town, corpses, cries and the lingering sand still dancing in the wind.

Humans are the scum of the planet. Knives words echoed through your mind. They’re all the same.

For a second you thought maybe he was right. Everyone blamed Vash, even when he tried his hardest to help. Even when they knew about Knives, apparently. Tears fought to make their way out, but they stopped when your heart did too. A figure appeared in front of your eyes against the breaking down in the horizon.

“Vash!” jumping off back into the ground, you ran towards him.

“Stay away, please.”

“What?” you almost muttered the question, he stopped walking and you caught up to him quickly.

“Stay away. If you follow me you’ll end up dead.”

You choked up on the words you wanted to let out, he tried to keep walking away.

“Wait, please.”

His shoes stopped over the sand yet again, but it was clear he was conflicted about moving on.

“Please listen to me, Vash” he didn’t make a move, and you took it as a good sign, walking up to him “even when the people in the town blamed you, I defended you.”

He was still silent, your fingers then grabbed his red coat and forced him to turn around and look at you. When his sad eyes finally met yours you couldn’t stop all of the thoughts from falling off your mouth.

“Even if they did, I didn’t. I’m on your side, I’ll always be. Even if whole world turned against you, I will be beside you, I will defend you” you grasped the lapels of his red coat, watching as his eyes widened and his lips partly opened in surprise “I will defend you with my life if i have to.”

He shook his head lightly.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

Blinking slowly, he bit his lip.

“Why?”

Your heart started to beat faster, tears prickled the corners of your eyes yet again. The words that burned your throat refused to get out, you couldn’t say them yet.

Cupping his face in your hands, a painful smile made it’s way to your lips.

Because I love you.

“Maybe some day, you’ll find out.”

[rarelyempathetic]

Okay atp ive rewatched the newest episode for the 5th time already (for obvious reasons) (father issues) (send help) So yeah Ive been questioning some things, like if the Church was there before (as seen in Tender Treats) then why did Michelle go to the Father Gregor only now? And why are the people so surprised there's a god damn priest in town??

But then there's this sign saying it's a 'grand opening', so yeah pretty self-explanatory. So the building was already there a year ago, and so was Father Gregor. Though nobody really knows him which i find KINDA ODD?? Cuz he's been there for QUITE some time, wouldnt people know at this point? However Mayor Evermore knows him and speaks normally to him (ehem cult shit). So idk idk, I just wanna find out how long was he really staying in the city. That's my main goal tbh but so far his lore is kinda,,,, idk it's driving me yarra cuz the fixation on Father Gregor is taking over. PLSSS GANG HELP ME FIGURE THIS SHIT OUTTTT

EDIT: OKAY SO IT'S PRESUMEABLY NOVEMBER WHICH MAKES THE SITUATION A LOT BETTER

[kiramarien]

They did not. They. Did. Not.

I don’t know if these words were actually said in the show, but if they were I swear I’m gonna blow a circuit. (Just looked it up. They were.)

Either way this is driving me bonkers.

The reason it’s driving me crazy is that both Starscream from Transformers Prime and Heatwave from Rescue Bots were voiced by Steve Blum. Both are characters I LOVE (right now, and as a little girl) and both were played by the man, the myth, the legend himself.

Steve Blum is a real person, not a fictional character that I can gush about with no consequences, so I’ll keep this to a minimum.

but I’ve reached a point where the only thing you need to do to get me to adore a character (Evidenced with Huntsman and Mayor from Lego Monkie Kid) is to show me that they have been voiced by this man. It’s a bit of a problem. And if you watch YouTube, you’ve probably seen his ad. Imagine me perusing YouTube. Clicks on a video and moves mouse to skip the ad. Drinks water.

“Hi. I’m Steve Blum.” *Spews water all over my shirt. Lunges for the mouse to move it before it’s too late and spends the next several minutes it takes for the ad to play trying not to spontaneously combust from pure joy. …

Um… let’s just say this Transformers screenshot brought me some joy and leave it at that.

(Here is a list of characters he’s played:

Heatwave 💕

Starscream

Demon Bull King (Lego Monkie Kid)

Huntsman (Lego Monkie Kid)

Mayor [or “Not-Mayor”] (Lego Monkie Kid)

Amon (Legend of Korra)

Wolverine (pretty much every piece of animated media that includes the character)

Green Goblin (Spectacular Spider man.)

Zeb Orrelios (Star Wars Rebels)

Admiral Gable Karius (Vader Immortal)

… and on and on. The man knows how to do his job.

That picture has made my day.

And made me question all of my life choices up to this point.

[titaniafey]

A little preview of my wip Ghostflower fic. Though I dont think it counts as ghostflower and leans more to just Gwiles. Specifically Earth!42- Miles and Gwen. I think there should be a separate dynamic for them respectively. Their personalities are kinda reversed. Miles is the one that's more broody and angsty, while Gwen is an adorable sunshine that can roast your ass like the sun. And she's still got that edge to her. Of course 😌

But AGSPSKFLGKGJD Y'ALL TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK?

---------

New York, concrete jungle where dreams are made of

There’s nothing you can’t do.

All right, I am only doing this just this one time. My name is Miles Gonzalo Morales. I used to wonder why my dad didn’t put Davis as my last name on the birth certificate. He told me it’s because he just doesn’t want it to get in the way of making my own name for what he did in the past. Said he and my uncle used to get into some shaaaady business here and there. For all his insistence to erase the past and never look back, I find myself doing things backwards. Because all I be doing right now is get caught up in the past. Trying my damnedest to right it. To give meaning to it.

Fisk still has his sights on being Mayor. His campaign pitch was a load of bull. Everyone knows the villains that run around the city wreaking havoc was in cahoots with him to get the people running as far away from this city as possible. His vision of being a livable safe New York in which he put up in honor of his late wife Vanessa Marianna and son Richard Fisk sounded like an empty promise. If anything, he was hellbent on making an unlivable New York. His grief spreading its reach to drive people away. It tends to do that to a man. In that aspect I can empathize for him.

But what stops me from pitying the fool is that he’s going on driving away families who wish for a new start in the big apple. As well as people who established the roots here since opportunity was promised in the land of the free. Hiking up housing prices. Creating noise and riots on the street.

I could move forward If I wanted to.

If I did move forward me and my mami would’ve been living peacefully in Puerto Rico right now with my maternal grandparents.

If I did move forward, I wouldn’t be sticking out for the city that granted my dad countless opportunities no matter how much he messed up.

If I did move forward, I wouldn’t be giving my dad justice for all the things he has fought for this city. His death would have been in vain.

If I did move forward, no one would’ve stood up to the likes of Fisk.

No one would’ve had the guts to go against him.

And the only one that could do that was someone above the law. Someone who runs under the cloak of the night. Someone who could portray the villain if they needed someone to be angry at. Someone who turned Fisk’s attention away from grabbing every silver lining left in this city to cling on to.

If I did move forward. I wouldn’t be the Prowler.

And if I hadn’t taken up the role of the prowler… I wouldn’t have seen what my dad, my mami, my uncle wanted me to look forward to.

Sunshine breaking through a dark sky. A city burned alight with a new hope. A blue eyed angel flashing me a bright smile.

Just as New York can be greedy, as it takes, and takes, and takes. It also gives, and gives, and gives.

It’s okay to look back in the past. But it’s also important to not get hung up with it that you won’t be able to see the new day in front of you. It’s called New York for a reason ain’t it? Just because one bad thing happened doesn’t mean life stops there.

You wanna know how I got here? Let me take you back to the time when life stopped for me.

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

use this ask to talk about your random headcanons for any character you like :)

Whoa, boy! It's been a long time since I wrote random headcanons (like, a month ago? idk). A great reason to add another portion of my crappy headcanons about sdv and sve. I hope you like it!

Some random SDV and SVE headcanon:

Once at the Stardew Valley Fair, when many tourists with their children come to the festival, a couple of teenagers began to tease and offend Jas. Shane, of course, was not happy when he found out that some brats were teasing his dear niece. But instead of barking at those little assholes, Shane acted differently. He whistled with all his might, and all the chickens that were in the aviary at the festival came running to his call. Shane gave them the command to 'sic'em, girls', and all his feathered friends rushed at the offenders, clucking and pecking to drive them away. Jas is saved, Shane is laughing his stomach out, mayor Lewis is not too pleased that the chickens are terrorizing the tourists. How Shane managed to train chickens like that - no one knows, except maybe Marnie and Jas. Also, Jas gave her uncle the nickname "The Chicken Lord". Well deserved, some would say.

Every Sunday, when Andy goes to Pierre's shop to pray at the Yoba altar, he always stops for a couple of minutes near the fence at Marnie's ranch and pets the baby goats and lambs, which quickly rushed to the old farmer in search of affection. Only Marnie knows about this little "tradition" and Andy asks her not to spread it, because he doesn't want to be called a slobber. Marnie doesn't mind, especially since Andy almost always brings a couple of his crops to treat her favorite animals. She also sometimes gives him a gallon of milk or fresh goat cheese as a thank you. No, Andy is not shy, go away, shoo!

Sam, Sebastian and Abigail went out one autumn day at night into the woods to perform a 'summoning ritual' using crystals, bird feathers and other crap that they found on the Internet and thought it would be scary and fun. None of them knew that the ritual had actually worked, how the fuck- A portal opened in front of them, from which the head of an ugly horned monster crawled out, ready to destroy everything around. Fortunately for them, Rasmodius felt a strange magical aura and arrived in time, drove the monster back from where the creature got out and closed the portal. Later, he severely scolded the terrified trio and promised to whoop their asses if anyone thought of doing the summoning ritual again. If you are doing magic and occult things, turn to Magnus for help, it's better to do it with a mentor than to do it anyhow.

Lance has repeatedly expressed his desire to explore the deepest levels of the mines in order to study the growth of purple mushrooms, which are in abundance there. To his luck, Marlon just needs the help of a battle mage in clearing those very levels from monsters and finding rubies and diamonds for Magnus's experiments. The hunt went well and Lance was able to pick up a couple of great specimens to study. They will serve as excellent material for the continuation of his book on magical plants and mushrooms, as well as for the brewing of important life elixirs. But the shroom stew turned out disgusting. Well, he still have to eat it, you can’t just throw out food, right?

Olivia was the one who instilled in Harvey his love for truffle oil. When Victor caught a terrible cold that was accompanied by a high fever, a frightened Olivia called Harvey for help. The doctor took care of Victor all week until he fully recovered. Relieved, Olivia already wanted to pay extra for Harvey's services, to which he categorically said no, explaining that this was his job and that he was doing it to save people, not for money. Olivia sincerely understands and respects his position. And yet, the next day, she sent a couple of bottles of expensive truffle oil by parcel to the clinic as a thank you, noting in a letter that she insisted. Harvey has to give credit, with oil the dishes really got a lot tastier and richer. It's better than the Joja ready meals anyway.

[lucky-bishop]

A question just for funsies: teenage Peter Hale is forced to get a job. Where does he work? Bonus question: if he gets fired from said job, why?

Oh man there are so many fun options here!! Let's see -

First let it be known this is my 'truest' answer if I had to give one. He would work at a suit shop. He likes the finer things, he'd like getting dirt on rich people and people of influence.

Now we get the first of the funnier answers, which is him working in a weapons shop. Argent, if he could make it happen, but certainly with a hunter affiliation. This would of course assume that they don't know that the Hales are werewolves but suspend your disbelief with me for a moment to think about the comedic potential. He thinks it's hilarious to tempt fate and be right under their noses, no matter how many years all the worrying shaves off of his sister's life.

Last but not least: fro-yo restaurant employee in a shitty strip mall. Because he would hate it and it would be abundantly clear but he has to work there for some reason even though he absolutely should not be directly interacting with members of the public. He drives sales through the bottom of the ocean floor because no one wants to have sprinkles put on their fro-yo in a threatening manner.

He would get fired from any of these jobs for horribly insulting clientele to their faces with targeted and cruel comments in a public place. You can't make the mayor cry, Peter. Or he'd get caught blowing someone in the storeroom, once again at any of these jobs, and be fired for that.

[princess-of-the-corner]

Honestly I'm half tempted to include a throw away line in my fic about how electing a school teacher with zero background in politics outside of interacting with one student's parent turned out to be a terrible idea

Yeah no its.

Even if we go with my AUs or even what the writers /want/ us to think where Bustier is a genuinely 100% good teacher trying her best.

Bustier is a teacher. She has no experience with politics. She likely has the base understanding of most adults even mildly concerned with their community, possibly a touch more being in the education system and dealing with some of the bullshit policies.

But that is far from enough to jump to being mayor. Even if she has grand plans for good policies, being able to implement them is a /process/. She's going to have to get approval from so many other people in various public offices, some of which will fight her. Even if we apply cartoon 'mayor has ultimate power' so that Chloé Andre was the only one making these awful policies happen and a new Good mayor would fix it: it takes /time/ to do so.

She's going to have to deal with a lot more than just ordering the installation of solar panels. There's a lot of duties a mayor has. She's going to need to do all of those. And deal with various politicians and rich business people who are just as if not more corrupt than the mayor.

Now bring it back to Canon.

Canon where she's elected while pregnant and about to pop and will have to take her first few weeks-months of term off for maternity leave and even still be dealing with a newborn, assuming Giselle isn't a housewife that can watch the baby 24/7. Like if she is good for them but Bustier is still going to be running ragged trying to do her job and balance a baby.

Canon, where the reason they need a new mayor is because she was down to team up with the local supervillain terrorist to hypnotize the city and storm city hall to drive him out, purely because she didn't like his child. (And while I can go with the 'oh her being Akumatized doesn't count', she sees absolutely zero problem with what she did as an Akuma after-the-fact. So even if the 'she was an AKuma' thing checks out, her approving of those actions is a yikes.)

Canon, where she had Chloé and Sabrina openly cheating on homework, classwork, and tests for two years without her noticing despite them literally sitting in the front row and everyone else knowing about it because they openly say what they're doing. But sure, she'll be able to handle corrupt politicians and businessmen and sneaky loophole laws.

[cartooncreature]

There are no signs whatsoever that cars exist in the bugbo universe and despite this I’m making car related / driving headcannons cause fuck you. >:D

Bugbo

He is always driving exactly. the speed limit.

Not a digit over or under.

And he never accelerates or breaks, the car just. is. in the state he wants it to be.

Everyone in the car has to be buckled up, sitting straight forward, feet on the floor, or the car isn’t moving.

(Fights have broken out because of this, usually between him and Hoppo)

He says it’s for safety

(knowing him it’s prolly a power trip thing)

There is no music. Dead silence. Even the wind outside seems quieter

And in the off chance there is music, there’s no lyrics and it’s probably some shit like

“Kahoot Question Music 1 Hour Loop”

And it’s so quiet you can’t even recognize what it is.

If you try to talk to him he’ll respond in short, almost snippy responses

If you keep trying he’ll eventually just point blank say “You know, it’s not very safe or polite to distract the driver.”

Unless he likes you, somehow, then he might have a short conversation with you.

He does the same when he’s a passenger, but to a lesser degree

He’s usually the one who dictates who drives, and, for some reason, he picks Joe a lot.

(Joe doesn’t mind, he likes driving :>)

Hoppo has accused him of being scared of driving before, which he did not take kindly to.

Gerbo

He tends not to drive since cars don’t fit his… build.

He’s all legs, cars aren’t made that way

But in the case that he does, he’d probably drive really slow, mostly out of caution

He most definitely is scared of driving (but Hoppo isn’t gonna say anything to him)

Which isn’t much of an issue considering they probably have the only car on globe

Like that one Yo Gabba Gabba episode

Music wise, I’m not sure

Everyone infantilizes him so much, it drives me crazy

Y’all aren’t listening to Baby Shark 10hr loop

Maybe once for the hype

BUT THATS IT

He probably would listen to more upbeat music,

I have a very limited taste in music and I don’t think he’d like any of my music (It’s all about drugs and wanting to eat the rich or it’s Jack Stauber)

Actually he’d maybe like some Jack Stauber music! Like maybe Buttercup and songs along those lines! His more happy sounding music?

Idk other people with different/better music taste tell me what you think

He doesn’t mind conversation while he’s driving. In fact, I think he likes it!

He likes the casual small talk type conversations, and if they lead into deeper conversations that’s even better!

He offers to drive anytime, but it’s usually either Bugbo or Joe driving, not that he minds. (Please don’t make him drive)

(He does prefer it when Joe drives, but he’d never say it, especially not to bugbo)

Gradient Joe

He’d probably drive the most

He’s the one most… built? for a car?

He tries to drive the speed limit but he might get distracted and speed up or slow down a little

So like, typical driving? I guess?

His music would likely also be more instrumental, mostly because it is a bit easier to focus

And he’s probably driving everyone around, so he’s gonna need some help focusing

But also when it does have lyrics, y’all can fight me on this but I bet he’d like love songs

Like, this isn’t a “omg he’s a romantic he wants to kiss everyone and marry everyone omgggg” thing, more of a like,

Everything is so- rough? All the time?

I mean, he got shoved face fucking first down a mystery hole that was who knows how deep, then guilted into running for mayor with no prep, and then whitenesses a murder, all in around 48 hours

Everything is so fast paced and bright and so much all the time

And love songs are usually much softer, calmer, sweeter

It’s a little moment of peace, you know? Even if it’s just a little distraction before Bugbo ropes him into another wildly overwhelming adventure

Anyway woah car headcannons hi this is what we’re here for jfc

He kinda prefers it to be a little quieter too

(And I think bugbo might, in one of his brief moments of kindness, remind the others to be quieter so he can focus)

If it’s just him and one other person, he might substitute music for listening to them talk

Even if he can’t respond, he likes to nod along and give other people a little break too. Just let them get things off their chest, yk?

I bet he also likes to drive because it is a little tiny bit of control within this chaos ridden mess of a universe.

Why is this one so long? Where did all the gradient joe angst come from? What the hell?

Hoppo

She doesn’t drive often either

Not because she’s built more bug like and so it’s a little awkward for her, she makes that work.

She doesn’t drive because the others won’t let her.

She is driving at least 15 over the speed limit on a “safe” day

Hits curbs like they spat at her grandma

Probably has at least one leg propped up in the seat at all times

only one hand on the wheel

Music. Is. BLASTING.

Marina, Scene Queen, Mother Mother, Sir Chloe, Girl in Red, Penelope Scott, Hemlock Springs, Mitski, Chrissy Chlapecka, Kiki Rockwell, and the occasional Lemon Demon

She has a playlist called “songs to piss bugbo off”

And she’s just casually chatting with whoever is in the front seat while the car shakes from the bass in these songs

Bugbo doesn’t let her drive because he knows she’s doing her best to piss him off

Joe doesn’t let her drive out of pure fear

Gerbo, ironically, is usually in the front seat because he minds her driving the least

If it was just her and Gerbo or Joe she’d prolly tone it down some, maybe at least turn the music down

But if Bugbo is within five miles, you best believe Pink Rover is gonna be shaking the ground he stands on like an earthquake

She’s pretty much the same as a passenger. If Bugbo is driving she’s being obnoxious and goofy, if it’s anyone else she will tone it down some

If Bugbo’s not around she’ll tone it down a lot, maybe just chatting and laughing

(Let me make it clear, she doesn’t dislike bugbo, in fact quite the opposite. But that’s another headcannon for another day)

Thomas Flyswatter

He has the only other car on globe

(I can’t decide if it’s the helicopter he used and it just doubles as a car or if this bitch just has like a Honda civic parked behind his lair)

Driving wise, he’s similar to Joe

Generally pretty typical, though depending on his mood he might speed quite a bit

He rarely, rarely has anyone else in his car

If you even see his car he trusts you a lot

If he drives you around you might as well be besties

Or he pities you (which if this man is pitying you you’ve gotta get your life in check bestie cause holy shit-)

The music he plays depends on his mood and who he’s with

If hes in a villainy “I’m gonna go do evil things mwah ha ha >:D” he’s listening to Toby Fox (and y’all cannot convince me otherwise)

If he’s in a more relaxed mood he, too, may listen to Jack Stauber (probably different than the songs Gerbo would listen to though, some similarities tho) and Definitely some Will Wood

If you are his absolute bestie, like he trusts you with his life, he may, if you’re lucky, break out the broadway music, but only if you’re very lucky

He may be a little quiet at first, but if whoever he’s driving around starts a conversation with him he’ll talk

And also if he’s not talking he’s subconsciously lip syncing because I’m projecting stfu

He also hits curbs a lot

[hazbinextgeneration]

Housed Hearts Ch5 Protecting Investments

(Warning: A random REALTOR attempts to kidnap Rose. Art's by me.)

-THIS SPANS OVER A FEW WEEKS-

Rose did indeed call in later that night and casually ask if there was any REALTORS located in her neighborhood. She was surprised when the person answered no. That either meant that Mr. Maison Talo wasn't registered with their systems or whoever was researching this place was doing a bad job of doing it. Either way she decided not to out Maison just yet. If he himself hadn't made himself known to the Mayor's office then he probably had his reasons...Then again maybe no one else knows about him being a REALTOR here. She could potentially let innocent people get eaten or put them in possibly danger if she didn't at least leave a message. She needed more time to think about this or how to approach this subject which... Wasn't exactly easy. Anyone else would obviously point out that it would be better to tell someone and she'd be inclined to agree to that but...There was something holding her back. Perhaps it was out of courtesy that he hadn't literally tried to pluck her off the street. True he tried to convince her to come inside for very obvious reasons but he hadn't done anything that made him an out right threat or danger to herself. And could Maison really be a threat if he only tried to eat people by convincing them to step inside his house? But what if eventually his hunger got to the point that he did do something extreme? All these questions were making her head spin. But eventually she had an idea. Why not ask for the opinion from a fellow REALTOR about it all?

"Gee, pal. That sure sounds like a problem you got there."

"No kidding. The problem is that he hasn't done anything..yet. But with the current REALTOR problem and him being hungry enough for me to literally hear his stomach growling ALL THE TIME I'm not too sure how long he's going to last. At this rate he'll either starve to death or snap from hunger." 

Currently she sat down on Heim's fleshy sofa and held her head in her hands after she made him finish digesting a giant box of food she brought over. Heim's lure laid dormant but his voice echoed throughout the area.

"If I told this to anyone else that would possibly put Maison in danger if he isn't already. That's why I wanted to ask your opinion. What do you think I should do?'

There was a long silence before eventually he spoke again. "Gee..Uh..I'm not sure. Never heard about anything like this happening before ta be honest."

Rose groaned facepalming. "The main problem is that he's hungry and obviously not eating enough. That's worrying me the most. His urge to eat might eventually take over his ability to think clearly. How do I fix that?"

"Well...I'm not sure about him but for me it's always been pretty simple. I'm not a really big house so it doesn't take a whole lot to keep me full, and you've been feeding me a lot of extra stuff so I don't really feel like human flesh. Y'know?"

She slowly nodded. "That's true..but you don't rely solely on me to feed you. You can get food yourself that isn't human flesh and you get a giant serving each month." She specifically remembered all the fast food containers that once littered Heim's lawn. "You're also not as high strung on your pride as he is, and like you said you're not addicted to the taste of human. I don't know so much about him."

"Well....The main problem is him being hungry right? Why don'tcha y'know just give him food too?"

"I don't know if me feeding him will make him let up on eating humans...but keeping him from starving himself would probably be better for everyone involved in the long run." She looked up with a sigh. 

"Then what are ya gonna do?"

"....I'm going to make a call to Ivy and then I'm going to go shopping."

The drive back from Heim's felt a lot more stressful than usual and the giant basket of freshly bought food sitting next to her felt heavier than normal. How was she supposed to break the news to someone that he was now within the Mayor's REALTOR systems? That phonecall to Ivy was difficult to get through. Even though Ivy assured her she'd done the right thing, Rose couldn't help but still feel guilty about it all. However there was no going back now. She only hoped Maison wouldn't be too made and forgive her eventually. Eventually she had arrived in front of the familiar home and got out. Now the real weight of the basket was known to her arms which felt noodly compared to the rock in her stomach. She stood there for the longest time before inhaling and steeling herself in order to gather the courage. And walked up to Maison's door. With a firm hand she reached out and knocked loudly on the door to make her presence clear to him. He had to be home. She didn't see any lure cord leading out from the door. She stood there for a long moment waiting before eventually the doorknob twisted and the door opened revealing the man inside.

Maison blinked down at her before smiling as expected. "Ah. If it isn't the buyer next door. I wonder what brings you this time. Have you changed your mind about coming to see my new decor?"

"I'm not going inside." She was blunt before taking a breath and relaxing herself as much as she could. "I came to talk to you about all the stomach growling I've been hearing."

He blinked. "Ah. A noise complaint. I do apologize if it's bothering you, but some things are out of my hands."

"I know...And I'm here to fix that." He looked confused until she forced the giant basket of food into his arms making him stare at it for a long moment before looking back at Rose in confusion. "I spoke with one of my bosses. She's from the Mayor's office." That got his attention real quick as his eyes snapped open widely. "I really didn't want to tell anyone!" Rose quickly held up her hands. "I promise you I didn't! But by this rate I was worried you'd starve or try to do something dangerous."

He continued to stare blankly at her before slowly looking back at the basket then back to her. "You...worried about me? Forgive me for being so blunt but there's really not a lot of people whom really are. I'm fact most humans wouldn't probably mind seeing me wasting away."

"Well I'd rather NOT see someone die of starvation. Just because you're not human that doesn't mean you don't have a right to eat. To LIVE." He again looked up surprised at her statement. "Look. Whether you like it or not you need food and you're not getting it by your own methods. You may not want my help or anyone else's but if it means you won't starve then I can live with that. Starting next month you'll be in the Mayor's program and start getting regular feedings. I'll be the one who's going to give them to you since I called it. But you can still be a REALTOR. By all means!" She threw her arms out. "Keep trying to get buyers! Do whatever you usually do! I won't stop you from trying to do what you've been doing for years! But what I won't do is sit by and watch you starve yourself for your pride...I am deeply sorry, Maison. Really I am. But I'll make it up to you. Until you can get your first feeding next month, I'll give you a few bags of food myself. It probably won't fill you all the way, but it'll certainly help with your hunger." She heaved out a heavy sigh before crossing her arms getting that all off her chest. "Now..What do you say about it?"

Maison couldn't speak. He just...stood there stunned continuing to stare at her for a long, long...LONG moment of silence. Before he eventually looked down at the basket he held. Maison hummed before he reached inside eventually. Rose watched curiously and silently as he shifted through it slowly as if inspecting everything. Once and a while he'd pull out a random cucumber or pineapple and held it up closer to his face narrowing his eyes before moving on. Eventually he stopped and stared at it again. Then without saying a word, he simply turned around and dumped the entire basket out onto the floor. A series of thuds and thumps rang out as they all scattered about but Rose blinked as fleshy red tentacles reached out to pull them further into the depths of Maison's body similar to Heim's fleshy limbs. Her eye widened before she smiled as he turned back around and held the basket out to her. 

"I will...accept the terms of this new arrangement, but only because you came to me and we're honest with me." He rose a brow at her happy expression. "Considering you hold up your end."

She nodded before taking the basket from him. "I will! Don't you worry! I'm more happy about the fact you're not going to die from starvation or something!" He blinked as she smiled wider. "Thank you so much for letting me help you, Maison."

He still stared at her before he cleared his throat and turned away feeling an unfamiliar warmth lighting up his whole body. "Well...If it means avoiding an untimely death, then I suppose I could look past any grievan-CES?!" He froze when something quickly threw their arms around him squeezing in the quickest of hugs before letting him go and backing away just as quickly.

"Then I'll bring you back more food tomorrow after I work! Is there anything specific you like?"

.... Maison slowly blinked realizing Rose had quickly hugged him and blinked again. "I...nothing specific comes to my mind. Perhaps a few..fish sandwiches. I don't believe I had them for a long while."

Rose nodded. "I'll definitely be getting them soon. You won't be disappointed I promise!"

He only hummed. "Well...I suppose we'll see."

Rose kept her promise. But he supposed he wasn't around whenever she stopped by because when he did return from finding some hopefully interested buyers near a train station, he found a large box waiting for him on his doorstep and inside again was a rather large assortment of random vegetables and strangely enough a random small paper bag. Upon further inspection he had found exactly two filet o'fish sandwiches just as she promised. They smelt like a few hours old. So it began. He'd return random times in the day to either food already waiting for him or Rose showing up with a bright smile to deliver it right to him. He was skeptical at first. Of course he was but...he couldn't deny this little arrangement was clearing up some hunger pains he's been feeling for a while. And then his first feeding came and...it wasn't...too bad he supposed.

But it was still a little embarrassing and degrading that the number one REALTOR was getting assistance from someone.

Seriously! He could've done this on his own!! ...But he supposed the benefits of having a clear head without having hunger nag at him was worth it all. He certainly was thankful for the newfound clarity. It made conducting business a lot easier! However he wasn't expecting to run into a peculiar sight while looking for potential buyers. He figured a newly constructed apartment building in town was the perfect place to scout out people looking for new places to live. And what better way to stir up a few new buyers than to advertise himself to people currently looking for a home? If he's lucky he'll at least get one of two buyers. However he wasn't expecting to run into a certain red haired woman while there. He saw Rose but she didn't see him.

She was a little busy pulling out what looked to be young flowering bushes from the back of that old pick up truck of hers and  handing them over to a man who took them from her and placed them on the small lot of land in front of the new apartment building. ...Oh. She must've been delivering some flowering bushes to be planted in front of the apartment complex. She had mentioned that she worked for a rather large greenhouse after all. She didn't notice him however as he stood across the road and up from her. Naturally she wouldn't notice him as she was working. Eventually she had the man (probably the landlord for the apartment complex) sign a form presumably for the delivery of said plants before turning away from him to close the back of her truck. Ah. Good. She'd be done soon and he could work in peace. ... However a figure caught his eye and it was one whom was quickly approaching her with a familiar looking tube like cord dragging behind them.

....He quickly decided to approach.

"Hello there!" Rose jumped and whirled around to stare at a random man just standing there smiling widely at her. "Such a lovely day for a drive! No doubt you've been scoping out the fancy new complex constructed right here in our beautiful city of work!"

She blinked at the new comer before smiling and waving him off. "Oh no. I'm not looking for anything. Besides I already have a house. But I'm sure you'll find someone interested eventually." She politely said before turning around.

Only she was flung back around and grabbed harshly by the arm which had her freezing in her tracks. "Ah. But I have a small business deal. Just. For." With each word he added emphasis. Gripped her harder. And tugged her farther towards him. Her eye widened. Pupil shrinking as he stood closer to her now. "You."

Rose stood there frozen as her breath picked up. And a hand clamped down on her shoulder. She squealed and snapped her head around to face the newcomer along with the stranger and both froze at a figure much taller than the both of them. A strained smile stretched across the face of a REALTOR.

"Pardon me." Rose never felt such relief seeing a scary figure looming over her. "But that happens to be my dear provider you're so roughly grabbing so rudely." A firm pull instantly removed her from the man's grip and against Maison's side whom leaned over to almost get in the man's face. "You'll excuse me if I protect a few of my investments."

The man stared at Maison wide eyed, then at Rose, then back to Maison.. Before frowning but calmly taking a few steps back and eventually turning to walk away entirely. She waited until he had completely disappeared into the crowd before sighing in relief and halfway leaning against him.

"Maison." He stood right back up and released his grip on her shoulder to return his usual position but remained frowning as she turned to look up at him. "Boy am I glad to see you. What are you doing here?" Her head then turned to where the man had disappeared off to. "And who was that?"

"THAT my dear provider happened to be the barbarian of my kind you've heard so much about. The ones who wished to swoop you up for none other than a cheap appetizer." A shudder of horror went through her. "As for me I was merely working and happened to pass by seeing a fine young lady being pushed around by a barbaric fiend. I couldn't pass by knowing that my dear provider was in danger."

Rose gave a sigh before looking back up to him with a smile. "Well I sure am lucky you were passing through. I think you just earnt yourself a couple more fish sandwiches." He chuckled at her smiling. "I'm serious. Who knew that handsome face of yous could be so scary.~" she half playfully half flirtatiously giving a playful push to his side 

He blinked at her motion before clearing his throat and turning his head away to hide the faint pink on his face. "Well...You ought to be more careful especially in these times. I wouldn't want my d-dear provider to be harmed."

"Did you just stutter?"

His smiling strained. "....The fear must've worried you silly."

Amused not she nodded. "Uh huh. Alright. Well thanks again but I think I should be getting back to work  before my bosses yell at me for being late."

"Ah. Perhaps you could give myself a call when you do. I would want to know if my provider was in need again."

"That might be a good idea but I don't have your number."

"Never fear. That is easily curable!" With that he quickly swiped his card from his pocket and held it out to her. "Here you are! Just be sure to write it down before the card disintegrates."

She rose a brow amused. "Well.. I've been asked for my number a few times but this is the first time a man's offered me his." Maison again paused as she plucked it from his with a playful smile. "We haven't even had a first date yet. Although I guess I have taken you out to dinner with how much I feed you.~"

"N-Now cut that out!"

Rose only giggled again at his flustered state.

[solunest]

Random question(s) from a thought. I know HCFIQ Eclipse can drive and Heavenly can’t, but can the Celestial twins drive? And if so, do either of them like driving? What roads would they like to drive on (curvy, straight, uphill, downhill, lots of turns, no turns, etc. etc.)? Do they get motion sickness (yes I know they’re robots but still)? Do they like to listen to music while riding/driving?

How do they handle someone else driving? Do they prefer a safer driver or one who takes a bit of risk? How safe do they like to drive? Do they race down the streets if possible without being caught or drive casually? Do they prefer riding up front or in the back? Limousine-like car or personal vehicle for just the two of them plus some weapons? How much trust do they place in another driver?

Same for Eclipse?

Anyways just some thoughts.

(Sorry for throwing a load of questions at you all at once, but driving is something that a lot of people feel differently about. How one approaches driving can speak volumes just as much as how one dresses and how one talks.)

Alright, I dedicated THOUGHT to this one. Including some lore that isn't shown in the fic, but I have notes about for some reason ^^; (i went digging y'all)

This is a whole schpeal;

Alright, obviously in the TFP AU, they obviously can't drive. But, in the original, as mentioned, Eclipse had gotten his custom car around the time he became chief, as a gift. Around this time, Sun and Moon are freshly recovering from the burning of the Daycare. Looking for Eclipse, wondering where he disappeared off to, and like...it took them a week or so since they weren't familiar with the layout of the city and were very paranoid, but it was the day he received his car. Can you imagine that? Seeing your older brother who abandoned you, finely dressed, in a position of power, not a scratch on him, and the mayor heartily gifting him the keys to a fashionable car? Just ignore the fact that his rays are shrunken in, fear and haunt shadowing his exhausted posture, the man is living fat while you're shivering homeless and near decommissioned where you stood.

So, naturally, Sun and Moon, when they're at their positions of powers, in their flashy clothes and riches, they, of course, splurged on vehicles. They have more than one, actually they have five. Each brother has one flashy fancy car and a more discrete car. Then the fifth one is a limousine that both of them can use. They're all animatronic grade cars, so if they (begrudgingly) have a human associate in one of their vehicles, they're guaranteed to make fun of them for not fitting properly.

They're an animatronic only syndicate. The brothers have a very clear vision for what they want to stand for in this mafia, of which then they have very heavy biases for animatronics. Protocol Free animatronics come from hard lives, as the Celestial brothers have, and they have banded together on that fact alone. Yes, they trust them to drive them places. They also have learned how to drive, purely to spite Eclipse.

I wouldn't call it motion sickness, but when they first started out, they were very scared. This is around their ascension, so they couldn't really show it, but the twins were shook. Now, they sometimes flaunt their wealth and power with their cars if they're moving downtown to wherever, if it's not important. If it is, they'll use the discrete vehicles, but the interiors are very lavish. They take their time driving, never in a hurry, both with tastes of music playing on the radio. If they're late to a meeting with outside associates (who are usually human), they'll taunt them about what they'd do about it. The cars, aside from animatronic treats and drinks, are of course, stashed with weapons.

Eclipse is a different story. He owns one car and does his best to preserve the mint condition, since it is a gift from a kind friend who wishes well for him. He was a nervous wreck learning how to drive, almost refusing help before, but later had asked helped from said friend, and learned a lot more efficiently. He didn't really get to properly enjoy driving it, really using it to get from his old apartment to work. That was, until he started taking you to missions and meetings, because he'd take scenic routes just to explain things and watch your eyes light up and ask your small questions.

Anyways! I love these questions, don't hesitate to ask me more :3