#he is my personal trainer you see (unofficial)

[seiwas]

bf thought long and hard abt whether he should pick me up now and i sleepover vs. tomorrow afternoon & the deciding factor was whether i would still workout tomorrow if he picked me up now 🤧😭

[sohya]

sweat it out

-> f!reader x aoi todo

-> 3.7k words

-> gym workout talk. spit play. impact play. oral. big dick. size difference. possibly ooc todo. creampie.

-> last attempt. if fuckass tumblr hides it again im gonna p** myself and not in a good way

tagging: @suyacho

“oh, hey, lil cub. what’s on for today?”

there’s only one person in the entire world who calls you ‘lil cub’, and it isn’t even in a demeaning way. everyone is little compared to a giant brute like aoi, but for some reason, he’d adopted you with ‘cub’ after the title.

you look up from your spot by your pigeonhole to see aoi walking over to you. built torso, thick thighs and hair tied up into a bun like it’s his signature look. while the exposed skin on his chest is tantalizing to look at, the real treat comes from the gymshark shorts he wears that does nothing to hide the bulge in between his legs. 

“just arms for today,” you look away lest you get caught staring at the most vulnerable part of your gym partner. “something short and quick.”

so you can get you and your ovulating self out of his presence sooner. 

“great. i’ll spot you.” he grins as he rests a heavy hand down on your shoulder. like the rest of him, it’s huge and you engage your core to right yourself when his palm tilts you to the side.

you let out a chuckle as you shrug his hand off to slip your hoodie off before stuffing it into your designated box. you’ve stopped feeling bad about taking him away from his workouts, given he’s always been insistent on helping you and to be honest, a man like him doesn’t need to be lifting weights every second of his life anyways. that and you actually appreciate the tips he gives you, at least that’s what you tell yourself. 

as you follow after him, his longer legs making him advance in front of you, your eyes fall to his bubble ass that doesn't hide just how he really takes the workouts for every part of his body seriously. you look up to the ceiling, your fingers fumbling with the handle of your water bottle as your womanly instincts kick in. 

“actually, aoi,” he looks back at you, a curious eyebrow raised, “i might work on my glutes today. it’s been a while.” 

you could’ve sworn his eyes flicked down to your thighs at that very moment but anyone else would probably tell you it was just a blink. “i think that’s a great idea, lil cub.” 

you’re stern in telling aoi that you won’t be here for long so he curates a shorter workout for you to do. hip thrusts are first and you attempt to put on a show for your personal spectator, grunting as you exert your strength to push the barbell up into the air, then sighing softly as you lower your hips again. there’s brazen interest in his eyes when you look up at him in between your second and third set but he doesn’t entertain you with anything, taking his role as a personal trainer seriously.

but like it’s some sort of punishment for you, he increases the weights by 10kg in the last set, causing you to struggle with the last rep with clenched teeth and a sound that sounds like too much of a moan than a sound of struggle. as soon as he helps you off the machine he gives you a high five and the image of his hand dwarfing yours has your dizzy mind straightening up immediately.

“good girl.” he completely skips over the unnecessary praise. “that’s the hardest one done. three more to go.” 

having aoi as your unofficial personal trainer is truly beneficial, you have to admit. having someone like him encouraging you to increase your weights and praising you has your mentality going haywire, because it feeds into your act of making sounds that should have his resolve cracking by now. 

aoi comes back holding two 10kg dumbbells. “you’re doing great, lil cub,” he praises as he hands places the weights down by your feet for you to pick up yourself, following gym safety regulations. “rdls for the last set, 12 reps but i want you to hold the last one for 10 seconds.”

his nose crinkles when he laughs at your glare. “you wanna go a weight lower then?”

you wipe the sweat off the bridge of your nose if only to hide your face from him for a short second before you shake your head, “no, i think i can do it.” you bend down to pick the weights up before standing into the correct posture. shoulders tight, core engaged and your feet shoulder width apart. 

a quick scan through the mirror at the rest of the gym makes you realize you two are the only ones left in the premises. which is the only reason you’re confident enough to say what you’re about to say. “it has been a while though. do you mind helping with my form?” you indulge him with a sultry gaze through your lashes.

as if he recognises what you’re doing, aoi steps closer and rests a hand on the small of your back. “‘course, lil cub. that’s what i’m here for, no?”

you barely even finish the second set.

exactly twenty two minutes later, you’re stumbling down the hallway of aoi’s apartment, the faux promise of him giving you your last workout at his place in the back of your mind as your lips clash together in a hungry duel for each other’s taste.

“i have to warn you, though, lil cub.” he says in between desperate kisses before he bursts into his bedroom. “i’m big. like really big.” you pull back to see nothing but pure honesty in his eyes. none of the smugness that would usually come from a guy warning their potential partner about the gigantic size of their dick. “so, if you want to tap out, no hard feelings.”

the warning doesn’t serve as one to you, if anything it only makes you more excited and inclines you to press your stomach up against his crotch. if the weight of it is anything to go by, you can already feel your walls lubricating itself up with your arousal. “that’s not very pt of you,” you taunt, hands grazing down to the hem of his matching gymshark t-shirt. you pull it over his head to rid him of the clothing, “i thought i was here for my last set.”

eager to stump your confidence, aoi picks you up with a strong arm wrapped around your waist. your feet hang in the air as the top of your head hits the ceiling, only possible given his height. “then take these off.” he pinches at your loose t-shirt and you fumble to pull it off your head. 

the second the first sliver of your skin is exposed, aoi’s mouth descends onto it, pressing kisses along your skin and warming your entire body through it. his tongue darts out to lick your skin, still salty from your workout, before it travels up to your chest once you remove your sports bra. he groans into you before he closes his lips on your soft stomach, sucking your skin and licking what hasn’t been cleaned off with his spit. 

aoi’s eyes, which had been previously closed as he cleaned off the ambrosia left on your skin, flutters open to see you staring down at him, clear desperation in your eyes, your brows furrowed and mouth opened to breathe heavy pants into the air. he groans. “fuck no, i can’t wait anymore.”

you’re quickly dropped down, yelping and grabbing onto whatever body part of his on your way down before your knees land on the floor without the pain and his hands supporting you under your arms. you look up at him, his monstrous height making him feel like he’s triple your size. 

but that’s not what you’re focused on. what grabs your attention is his hand disappearing into his shorts, shuffling inside before he grunts out a sound of annoyance and his other fist yanks his shorts down. like a cinematic piece, you watch as his hand draws out his cock, which had been tucked into the right side of his boxers, out of the restriction of his shorts that falls down to pool around his feet. 

half-hard, as thick as the circumference of your clenched fist and a generous 10 inches, you almost tear up at the sight. dripping pre-cum from the slit glistens like a crystal chandelier under the light. heavy balls that you want to smother your face into. nothing could compare to this. you’re struck with awe like you’re witnessing the 8th wonder of the world. 

you let out a sigh and aoi grins, runs his large thumb down the length of his cock, which droops down due its weight, before it runs off the tip of his head and springs up to slap your chin. “close your mouth before you start to drool.” he says with a loud laugh. “actually, no. keep it open.” he prods the tip of his cock against your slightly parted lips, urging him to slip his cock into your hot mouth. 

“it’ll fit,” he promises as if he can see the panic in your eyes, “just let me get the angle right.”

your lips burn as they stretch to accommodate the thick girth of him at the halfway point. at this point is when your eyes start tearing up, another inch and those tears are slipping down your cheeks as your head tilts back for him to descend his hips onto your face. another inch and he’s three quarters of the way while you gag violently around him. a deep inhale through your nose has you recollecting yourself before your source of air is cut off when he hilts himself into your mouth and your nostrils fill up with the soft curls on his pelvis. 

your eyes blink open before snapping shut when they catch a glimpse of his pursed lips and the feeling of his warm spit landing at your eyes warms your face.

“ah- just missed it.” aoi tsks before pulling his cock halfway out before thrusting it back in. his head tips back at the glorious sound of you gagging and choking around his intrusion and subjects you to a few minutes of some brutal and honest face fucking. by the time he pulls out, your shorts and thighs are stained with spit and precum, tits dripping with the same mixture and the lower part of your face dampened in filth. 

“you always make me so proud, lil cub.” he praises but demeans you at the same time with harsh taps to the side of your face, which probably wasn’t his intention but inevitable given the heaviness of his hands. “so pretty.” he compliments as he examines your state.

you whine as you fidget in your spot, hands moving to spread the wetness all over yourself. “a-aoi. c’mon.”

“you wanna get played with, huh, cub?” he hums, his hands cupping the side of your head and tilting your skull around, marveling at how your eyes follow him no matter which way he turns your head. “need something to sweat out, hm?”

he grunts as he bends down, slots an arm between your thighs and hooks you up from your crotch. you yelp when he spins you around so your head is dangling along with his dick. your tongue peaks out to grace it with a kitten lick before your mouth falls open when aoi’s face smothers itself into your wet shorts. 

“you smell so nice, cub.” he huffs. if his dick struggling to fit in your mouth hadn’t made you aware of the drastic size difference between the two of you, then having his face pressed right into your cunt would do it for you. tightening your legs around his head doesn’t sway him from sucking a wet spot into the fabric where your hole would be, instead it just holds him there and doesn’t deter him from your pussy. 

with careful hands, because he knows you’re still sane enough to scold him at one wrong move, he places you down on the bed and pulls your shorts and thin panties off. he flings the latter off to the side, making sure it slips between his bedside drawer and the wall so you’ll give up looking for it when you inevitably leave. 

with your entire body now bare, he buries himself in between your thighs, your sore muscles granted reprieve by relaxing against his warm shoulders as opposed to floating in the air.

“beautiful fucking pussy,” he groans into your folds, “i could drink you up.” 

the words you would have replied with die in your mouth when aoi dips his tongue into your hole, making a show of closing his lips around your opening and slurping the juices that coat his tongue. he’s relentless in the way his entire mouth covers pussy, the heat emanating from him making your toes curl all while your hands fly to the loose bun on his head to hold him still. he’s purposely avoiding your clit and you can tell because his head’s at an awkward position where he’s close enough for his mouth to encompass your heat but the tip of his nose avoids rubbing against your clit, making the warm breaths he’s exhaling into your bud warm your body up even further. 

his tongue works in lapping everything you have to offer, dark eyes zoning in on your expression that you don’t hide away from. your head is tilted up to look at him but every flick of his tongue inside you has your eyes rolling back and your mouth opening in a silent scream. 

but aoi’s patience only runs for so long and as much as he’d love to die and suffocate himself in your pussy, the ache of his rock hard cock chafing against the fabric of his mattress has him going insane. without a word to disrupt his momentum, he pulls his tongue out and closes his mouth around your clit, sucking on it hard enough for your back to arch and your heels to kick at his back. he holds you down with a heavy hand while the other sinks two fingers into your dripping heat. “ah… wait, aoi, nnh! i c-can’t–” you gasp, words falling out of your mind when your stomach begins to warm up as a hint of your impending orgasm.

he ignores your sounds in favor of each thrust that he drags out, focusing on curling his fingers upwards and running against the roof of your walls. you full on go lightheaded when he pulls his fingers out halfway before ramming it back inside, the tips of his fingers rubbing against your walls in a come hither motion on repeat causing your orgasm to wash over you. your mind blanks in what you can only describe as the best climax from getting head you’ve ever had. only thing you can hear and feel is aoi groaning into you as your juices flood into his mouth. 

the loud suckling noises don’t cease your orgasm in any way, if anything it makes it last what feels like an eternity before you come down, twitching and whining into the air. your lungs work in overdrive trying to gather air back into it but you’re not given the chance to properly recover when aoi’s face hovers above yours. only then do you realize the tingling in your pussy was from the aftershocks of your orgasm and not the feeling of his mouth overstimulating you. something in your mind feels disappointed about the fact.

satisfied with how quickly relaxed you become, aoi eases three fingers inside you, watching with a smug grin when you wince at the stretch of the third finger’s addition. “gotta stretch you out some more, cub. as much as it’d be nice to see you cry even more for me,” he pauses to lick the embarrassing streak of tears down your cheeka, “it’s not gonna be good for you in the long run.”

“ahh– i can- i can take it.” you push on, grinding your hips against his knuckles to ease another finger inside. 

“i’m sure you can. my little cub knows how to push herself.” he says as he pulls his fingers out. aoi’s eyes grow dark as they encourage your gaze to stay on his, entire attention focused on him that you only realize what he’s distracting you from when the blunt head of his cock pushes into your hole and makes no move in slowing to accommodate you. “but it’s more for my sake, so your tight pussy doesn’t cut my dick off before i even get myself inside.”

and just like that, you’re forced to take it. him pushing his hips further and further down while his huge cock positively splits you open. the silence is disturbed with your pants and moans of his name that flood out in a series of babbles that would’ve been incoherent if aoi wasn’t slipping into the same state of fucked out bliss like you were. 

“there we go,” he says after another agonizing few seconds, you can just make out the press of his balls against your ass when he looks down at you. his hands are cupped on the juncture between your neck and shoulders and you don’t get the time to wonder why when he uses his hold on you as leverage to pull his hips back and slam back into you, quickly building a rapid pace that has you screaming with nothing to ground you but the thin bed sheets that are threatening to rip apart in your fists. 

“a-aoi. i- n’ver been fuc-fugged this good,” you wail, being forced to take his brutal thrusts with how his hold on you doesn’t allow you to fidget up the mattress.

the compliment doesn’t fly over aoi’s head as he grins and leans down to lick at your open mouth, your tongue immediately flicking out for him to crudely lap at before he purses his lips and hacks a glob of spit onto your awaiting tongue. “yeah i can tell, cub. and you’ll never get anyone to fuck you this good again.” he says like it’s a promise.

like some cringy monologue, he gives a deranged speech with the sound of his hips slapping against yours as background music. “been wanting to fuck you since the very first day.” he releases one hand from your shoulder to decorate your thigh with a hard slap, “wanted to break you since then. didn’t think i’d get there because of how head plap fucking plap strong plap you are, but look at you now.” he sneers in a menacing look but he purses his lips and lands another serving of spit onto your barely open eyes. he chuckles breathlessly when your tongue makes a useless attempt to lick at the added warm puddle on your face. “my broken little fucktoy.” he praises demeaningly.

“aoi.” you breathe his name out like it’s the only sound you can make on top of the pathetic “nnh- don’t stop, please don’t stop. it’s too much… pl-please gimme more–”

in his mind, aoi promises to give you nothing if not more.

“you wan’ more, huh, cub? you think i have more to give you?” he returns his hand by your hip to your face, smothering you and mixing the mess of spit and sweat into your skin, “i’m over here wrecking your precious little cunt and you’re still asking for more? what more could you possibly want?”

“you– your cum… please aoi.” your mind has some semblance to come up with a logical answer quickly which doesn’t satify aoi as much as it should. without warning he pulls out and flips you around and rams his cock back inside you before you even get the chance to whine.

“let this be the arm workout you would’ve done today.” he bites into your earlobe as he speaks, hunching over you and pressing his sweaty chest against your just as sweaty back. “keep yourself up and then i’ll flood your stomach with my cum.” he promises before standing up on his knees, his hands tightly gripping your hips, he leans back and uses that momentum to thrust his hips upwards, cock slamming into you with no reprieve for you whatsoever. 

keeping his words in mind, you mindlessly babble your gratefulness to him as your arms wobble but stubbornly force yourself to stay up. it isn’t long until the head of his cock meeting your sensitive spot overwhelms you, your body tightening up and your arms feeling like jelly as you squeeze around his cock in an orgasm that you can’t hold back no matter how hard you try. “cumming, aoi. ‘mgumming!” you groan as your eyes flutter shut, body pretty much going lax at the powerful orgasm.

“keep your head up.” he takes a hand to cup your neck from the front, forcing your head upwards in a dangerous bend. “got so much fucking tighter, fucking sshh-it.” he grunts, granting you one two three more thrusts before his hips ram into you, cock expanding and deflating while warm cum fills up your inside. you almost swear you can feel it filling your womb up, a special place in your stomach that desperately drinks his cum like it has a mind of it’s own.

the room is filled with tired sounds of disbelief as you come down from your high. aoi is stock still, palming your ass as he throbs minutely inside you. he lands a harsh spank on your ass, causing you to yelp and fall to your face when your arms give out underneath you.

grunting his displeasure, he presses a hand down the small of your back as his hips rear back, ready to subject you to another round of his cock damaging your insides. “aoi… gimme a… sec…hah… i can’t–” you hide your face in your hands with a small wail, sanity crumbling with every slap from aoi’s hard hips to your softer in comparison ass cheeks.

his hand cups your throat again, squeezing it as a warning as he pulls you up to your hands again. “no, cub. i told you to keep yourself up. we’re not done for today until we do three more sets of this.” he grins at your whine as his hips pick up even more momentum. “what kind of gym buddy would i be if i didn’t push you to your limits, hm?”

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Coffee & Salted Caramel (Dad Best Friend!John Price Dark Romantic Headcanons)

CoD ML

It takes a moment for John to realise it’s you standing in front of him. However, after carefully scrutinising your face under the guise of a polite smile, there’s a spark of recognition in his pretty blue eyes.

In his defence, the last time he saw you was about ten years ago when you were an awkward teen just entering puberty. So little could have prepared him for seeing you now, blossomed into a beautiful young woman.

He doesn’t go in for a hug or a handshake, though it looks like the latter. Nevertheless, as soon as you’ve placed your hand in his, John brings your knuckles to his lips and kisses them. “My lady.”

The dark satisfaction blossoming in his chest due to your flabbergasted expression is carefully concealed behind a cheeky smile. A smile which is easily mistaken as amused, kind.

Without any other implications than friendship.

Picks you up from work if you’re working late and during winter. If you’re working the morning shift and therefore have to be there early, he’ll escort you to make sure you’re alright. At first John tells himself he’s simply being a gentleman, a proper captain. Moreover, he’s doing his best friend a service by keeping his daughter safe.

From men like him.

To keep you for himself.

Your father may or may not have let slip you go to the gym. A comment in which John saw a golden opportunity to get closer to you and reconnect. Or, rather, truly connect.

So you now find yourself three times a week working out alongside your father’s best friend, who kindly picks you up and drops you off after each session.

Who you’ve noticed glaring and sometimes even downright scowling at the other men there. Especially when he’s acting as your personal trainer.

Ngl, he makes for a good workout partner. Of course he respects your boundaries, but gradually tries to push you beyond them. Henceforth, when one week you swear you won’t be able to do a deadlift with 10kg on either side, you find yourself more than capable the next.

Though he’d never admit it, John loves showing off his strength and size. He might be middle aged, but he sure is still as capable, if not more, than in his younger years.

Another thing he’d keep a secret is how you wearing a choker tempts him to submit fully to instinct, play dangerously with the thought of claiming or, rather, owning you.

Frequently takes you out for hikes, picnics (weather permitting), trips around the country, and coffee. Whereas your father regards the outings with his best friend as enrichment because you two don’t get to do that stuff and acts of kindness, John actually sees them as unofficial dates.

Small moments during which he can properly fancy himself your partner.

You sing as a side hustle and have landed a performance at John’s favourite pub. Now, being a good friend to your father and simply being kind, he offers for you to stay overnight at his place. After all, the venue is too far from home to make it there afterwards safely.

Despite being seated in the back amongst the shadows, you feel John’s eyes on you throughout the show. Little do you know he occasionally closes his eyes, shutting out the world to enjoy your voice. It’s a lullaby that temporarily puts the rage seething beneath his skin to rest.

Gets grumpy when a guy approaches you to strike up a conversation after you’re done.

John knows you’re your own person and yet here he is, sulking and brooding over a pint because of a nagging sense he knows is unjustified. For fuck’s sake, you’re his best friend’s daughter! What the hell would you do with a guy his age, damaged beyond repair and haunted by ghosts?

Yet, he stands before you in no time and roughly grabs your wrist, dragging you behind him towards the exit. “On your feet. We’re leaving.”

On the way to his house, his grip remains iron-like regardless of how you struggle, whimper, beg, and try to pry his hand loose. Nonetheless, he remains as quiet, as tight-lipped, as when you ask him about his years in the army. Only when you call out his name with an ugly sob does he let go.

You flinch and step back when he turns around and comes closer, mortified by his fuming expression. John takes a deep breath, wishing he could kick himself in the face now that he finally sees how he hurt you. Moreover, in spite of his own disregard of rules and protocol, this type of behaviour would put any good captain to shame. That is, when directed at a loved one rather than a teammate. “I… I’m sorry.”

“What’s this about?” His gaze remains steady on the ground, even when you come closer to bridge the distance between you. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I don’t know, poppet. Maybe it’s just the pints that get me a bit violent. Drank one too many.”

“John-“

“Let’s go home.” Hands tucked into his pockets, he turns on his heel and starts walking again. He’d hold your hand, but after that little incident he’s too terrified to touch you. More than that, he grows bleak at the thought this or similar incidents which perhaps have yet to occur will eventually lead to you resenting him.

With you, he doesn’t want to be Captain Price.

He wants to be a man rather than a soldier.

A man properly caring for his girl by making sure she doesn’t want for anything.

Trying to sweep the incident on the street under the rug once you’re at his place, John stands in the doorway to the guest room as he watches you rummage in your bag. “Something wrong, love? Forgot your post-concert snack stash?”

You share his smile, the idea of glaring at him evaporated the moment you lock eyes. “Very funny, John.”

“I can make us something, though, if you’re still hungry. I ain’t a good cook, but I think I can manage scrambled eggs on an English muffin. Sober enough for that, at least.”

“I’m alright. Still, thanks. Turns out, I forgot my pyjamas.”

“You can lend a shirt. Let me find one.”

A wee while later, after being occupied a little too long with picking something for you to wear and distracted by the strain in his pants, he returns with a hoodie. He’d rather you be too hot than cold.

“Arms up, doll face.” Without questioning the nickname, you do as he says. His breath hitches as you wriggle into his hoodie, staring up at him with doe eyes.

It takes every ounce of self-control not to pick you up, twirl you around, and tuck you into bed. Say what you will, but beneath the lust there’s the genuine want to take care of you.

Distrustful of his hands, he crosses his arms and nods to the bed. “Hit the hay. I’ll make sure there’s breakfast, so don’t worry about that.”

“Thank you. Goodnight, John.”

He almost breaks, almost reaches out to pat your head to satisfy himself as much as he allows himself. But he doesn’t. “Goodnight, love.”

Nothing could have prepared him for seeing you do Pilates in the morning.

He stops in the doorway, frozen in place by fascination and the feeling he hasn’t been able to shake off since seeing you again for the first time in forever. Honestly, seeing you stretch and bend this way and that doesn’t help him think any clearer either. In fact, it only throws him deeper down the rabbit hole created by the fantasy of you pinned beneath him, breathless and whimpering his name as he has his way with you.

And he just dealt with his morning wood before coming downstairs.

As silent as a ghost, John slips back upstairs to calm himself down yet again, only leaving the bedroom when he hears you in the shower.

We all know perfectly well why I had to include this particular gif. And no, I’m not sorry.😝😹

Using the towels he prepared for you last night before dragging his ossified arse to bed.

Breakfast is elaborate with croissants, freshly brewed coffee (and your favourite syrup to put in it, salted caramel), orange juice, bread, jams, yogurt, and fruit. The food extravaganza makes you stop in your tracks to take in the sight.

“Thought I’d surprise you and apologize for last night. I stepped out of line.” John settles down and gestures to the one across from him. “Please.”

You nod, still too flabbergasted by the feast.

After a few moments of eating and drinking in silence, you pose the question which has been weighing heavily on your mind. “Why did you really act like that?”

“Guys like that want nothing but sex with a pretty young thing.” Despite the casual tone, his gruff voice is strained as he pours you another cup of coffee. After adding enough syrup to make it to your liking, he slides the cup towards you. “Besides, I promised your dad I’d watch over you, keep you safe.”

You glance to the side. “Bullshit. Like I’m that pretty.”

“You are. I’m surprised you don’t see how easily you can wrap any man around your finger.”

“Right. Let’s say you’re correct. I still don’t know how to… you know… have… sex.”

“Suppose you haven’t found the right person yet. Someone with the patience to take you through the motions. Who wants to take the time to love you right, map every detail of your body and learn what makes you shiver.” His eyes darken. “Someone with experience.”

Prompted by the way he sees you squirm in your seat and the front you try to put up despite the blush on your cheeks, he stands up to walk over to your side. “Someone who’s loyal. Faithful. Committed,” his breath is hot on your ear as his fingers touch your cheek, finding you pliable, your senses full of his cologne and presence, “to you. Maybe also someone who’s a little older.”

Before you can respond, John’s lips are on yours. His beard feels ticklish, but surprisingly much smoother than you thought it would be. A pleased hum reverberates in his chest when you run your fingers through it.

A lovely sound that turns into a gasp when you push him away, horrified as the truth sinks in. For nothing is more terrifying than common sense.

“I…” you begin, grasping at straws to explain yourself. It doesn’t help your heart cracks at the sight of the sadness in his eyes, badly concealed beneath the mask of the composed and determined captain.

“Y/N-“

“I should go.”

Judging by your tone, John knows he won’t be able to explain himself. “I’ll pack up some food. Have it along the way. A soldier isn’t anything if they don’t have a full stomach.”

“Text me when you’re home.” He can see the fight between confusion and affection rage in your eyes. “So I’ll know you’re safe. It might be broad daylight, but that doesn’t mean nothing won’t happen. Please, Y/N,” the way he says your name with an uncharacteristic plea hidden beneath barely composed sternness makes you waiver. “Just a text. That’s all I ask.”

“Alright.” You pull out your phone, create a new contact, and keep your gaze down towards the screen. “Spill the secret info, captain.”

After a moment’s hesitation, John curls his finger beneath your chin to tip it upwards. There’s a tremble in his hand as he cups your cheek, afraid you’ll pull away.

Change your mind.

And leave him behind.

“Promise?”

You nod, slightly leaning into his touch. “I promise.”

Packed up, the shirt he gave you the first thing to find its way into your bag, and his number in your phone, you silently leave. You know that once you turn around you’ll run right back to him, to what he can offer you. Nonetheless, to avoid problems with your father, you keep walking.

John’s gaze hot on your back, drinking salted caramel coffee.

I might turn this into a proper fic. Ah dinnae ken when or how, but what’s for sure already is that I’ve got plenty thoughts and ideas.😉

[icingsweet]

wc: angelo's online date and esme's daughter's father.

CAT, 28, GMT;  SHE/THEY. | if you’re hearing CODE MISTAKE by CORPSE x BMTH playing, you have to know RYDER SYDNEY (THEY/HE/ANY; NON-BINARY) is near by! the 33 year old FORMER PROFESSIONAL BARE KNUCKLE BOXER NOW PERSONAL TRAINER has been in denver ON AND OFF FOR 33 YEARS. they’re known to be quite TOUGH, but being DRIVEN seems to balance that out. or maybe it’s the fact that they resemble NICO TORTORELLA. personally, i’d love to know more about them seeing as how they’ve got those PROTEIN BAR WRAPPERS, SCARED KNUCKLES, SILVER RINGS, YELLING AT SPORTS CHANNELS, BROKEN SKATEBOARDS, and CHIPPED BLACK NAIL POLISH vibes. and maybe i’ll get my chance if i hang out around MONTBELLO DISTRICT long enough!

TW FOR DEATH, DRINK DRIVING, AND CAR CRASH MENTIONS which are brief and tagged accordingly when they start and end.

BASICS:

NAME: ryder sydney.

NIKNAMES: the ghost (formally)

AGE: thirty-three. 

BIRTHDAY: 14th july.

GENDER AND PRONOUNS: non-binary, they/he/any (they/he was used by my nico’s partner in a recent interview so i’m under the assumption that’s the ones nico uses the most but they also said any pronouns are welcome!) 

SEXUALITY: pansexual and polysexual.

OCCUPATION: professional bare-knuckle boxer (formally), personal trainer.

CONNECTIONS:

an older brother (deceased)

kyo’s unofficial coach / friend. 

angelo’s online date. 

esme's daughter's father (recently back in contact with).

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

former boxing rivalry.

gym friends.

enemies.

PHYSICAL:

HAIR COLOUR: brown, sometimes dyed platinum.

EYE COLOUR: blue.

HEIGHT: 6 foot 1.

PIERCINGS: none. 

TATTOOS: literally too many to mention.

SCARS: many from fighting including but not limited to knuckles, eyebrows, and bottom lip.

OTHER: also has deformed ears from hematoma auris (cauliflower ear) due to repeated trauma to that area. 

BIOGRAPHY:

Ryder Sydney comes from a long line of established fighters, from bare-knuckle boxers to more recently mixed martial artists there’s not one generation that hasn’t been involved somehow. That being said, the relationship with the majority of his family is nonexistent. His family, particularly his father and uncles, only acted as relentless coaches. All the siblings were trained at a young age to keep their renowned family name relevant in the industry. In their household praise was rare as there was always something to improve on and “punishments” were harsh which Ryder, always the most rebellious one, was the brunt of. If there’s one thing that runs in their family and it’s violence and impulsiveness so it’s no surprise that he’s carried those traits from a young age too. 

TW FOR DEATH, DRINK DRIVING, AND CAR CRASH MENTIONS: Despite everything that has happened in Ryder’s life, the thing that impacts them the most is the night that one of their older brothers died. The person they were the closest to. They remember everything so vividly from him coming to pick them up in his new car, to speeding through the roads outside of the city, and the sudden loud stop and that’s when their memory stops. Little did Ryder know that their brother had been drinking and little did they know that only one person was going to make it out. Ryder has a million and one conflicting feelings about what happened (which also inspired his stage name) but still to this day they’ll never be a passenger in any car. END OF TWS.

As he got older he wanted to separate himself from the Sydney name so he adopted a stage name “The Ghost” and that’s what he fought with for his entire bare-knuckle boxing career from street fighting all the way to bare-knuckle boxing championships. He was good at it too. Earning him several titles. But it all came at a heavy price. Through the years Ryder suffered multiple injuries, from broken bones to repeated concussions that forced them to reluctantly retire. Always being one to try and hide their injuries it was a challenge to have to face them and come to terms that their body couldn’t withstand the gruelling training and matches no more. 

Came out as non-binary and pansexual after he retired.

Ryder’s still trying to find his place now he’s not competing. 

PERSONALITY:

While coming across as quiet and grumpy, most people will be lucky to get a sentence out of him, Ryder’s not aggressive unless prompted which is in stark contrast to how he looks and his history in boxing. While he prefers to spend time by himself but that doesn’t negate the fact that those close to them get his light-hearted and mischievous side.

Is known to skateboard down a road in the pitch black of night for the adrenaline rush. 

Due to their upbringing, they’ve always had an insatiable hunger to be better than they were yesterday. It has driven them to perform bigger stunt stunts and take up bigger fights than the last. Even as a child Ryder would think they could make impossible jumps on their skateboard, and while some of them he made, more often than not he’d end up with scrapes and having to push themselves home on a skateboard with a broken ankle. This is still evident in how even today if Ryder doesn’t feel as though they’re progressing regularly they’d feel disgustingly stagnant and restless and will do anything to feel as though they’re not.

template credit @ lupusaustralis

[peaterookie]

Lupin's Pokemon Team

ok hear me out HAHA i like making pokemon teams for random characters so one day i decided to tackle lupin usually i pay a couple attention to the balance of the team and how strong the pokemon is, but with lupin iii being a totally different series, i decided to change my standards

this team is purely used for helping him with heists or he just sees it as something he can steal

i dont determine pokemon by how compatible it is with lupin (this is for anyone asking why thievul or aipom isn't in my list)

none of these pokemons should make him too op than how lupin without pokemons are, they simply make his heist planning easier because in reality lupin could kinda still do these things without them

i'll show some runner ups i thought of putting in after 

Here it is!!!

I'll have an explanation for all of them and some backstory I made up

Jigglypuff (Lv. 40 with Sing / Sweet Kiss / Hyper Voice / Fake Tears)

I'd say that the team doesn't really have an ace, but Jigglypuff is probably an unofficial one since he's the first pokemon Lupin had in my story, where he recieved it back then he was a child as an Igglybuff. I remembered in a Part 2 screenshot somewhere (i haven't finished part 2 so pardon if i got anything wrong) that Lupin had a fondness for cute dolls when he was a child, so Jigglypuff reflects that!

It also shows Lupin's inner child, since the Jigglypuff in the anime was quite a troublemaker, a very dramatic one too. In Shin Lupin III "Lupin Lullaby", Lupin's sings a lullaby sung by his mother from way back when he was a kid. Part of me thinks from that chapter that maybe Lupin probably loved music, and Jigglypuff's singing ability also connects to that as well.

Asides from that, Jigglypuff's ability to lull people into sleep by Sing or confuse people with Sweet Kiss would make it a really good member in the party to use for heists. I can imagine Lupin using him to immediately put guards to sleep or at least set them back when he's infiltrating hehe

Ditto (Lv. 26 with... Transform)

This is honestly a given. I had the option to choose Zorua over Ditto, but I personally preferred Ditto because it's just so silly and it perfectly matches the series tbh.

So the story for Ditto is that one day, Lupin just so happened to come across a doppleganger that looked just EXACTLY like him, doing heinous acts that makes Lupin look bad!!! It was Ditto, and it was being ordered by its trainer to disguise as Lupin and do bad things for something to happen (this could totally be an episode premise, I'm just too lazy to think.) Lupin uncovers Ditto's disguise and also beats the bad trainer with its help and Ditto basically becomes part of Lupin's team that way.

Ditto essentially learning how to transform into Lupin perfectly has so so sooo many possibilities of fun stories, it's literally like a moving living distraction LMAO I'll leave it to you guys to think of how Lupin'll use Ditto since I'll be here forever if I list out mine.

Magnemite (Lv. 10 with Thunder Wave, Protect, Confuse Ray, Volt Switch)

With so many security options all being operated by electricity, a Magnemite can easily wipe it all out by feeding on the electricity! I also chose that Pokemon since it's magnetic ability along with it's levitation ability can prove useful in some way in heists. I feel like sometimes Lupin just grabs on it to float around lmao (it hates it)

I don't have much of a story for this one. I just think the vibe of the design suits Lupin. Lupin probably just caught it one day and uses it time to time. I made Magnemite have a very childish and moody personality, it doesn't like following Lupin's order and hates it when he plays with it. But at least he gives it a lot of food!! That's the only reason it can bare Lupin's presence. It's also very good friends with this next pokemon...

Rotom (Lv. 23 with Confuse Ray, Protect, Electro Ball, Double Team)

Rotom and Magnemite are total besties, but one obviously gets used more than the other, and Rotom totally brags all about to Magnemite's face. Other than that, yep, Lupin uses this guy a lot to research about the place he's planning to sneak into and scan the basic layouts of it. I imagined he often makes it possess a drone, one of his spying devices or a computer to get info from it c:

So the story on how he gets this Rotom in the first place... maybe it found Lupin interesting and messed around with him for fun. Like he's in a middle of a heist and it just fucks it up for no reason. Lupin then gets mad but doesn't care to chase it but it messes up another heist of his again!!! Lupin then gets even madder and he decides to outsmart it next time it comes to fuck around again and it joins Lupin's team after it gets beaten since it finds him a lot of fun. Even after being caught, Rotom still goofs around with Lupin (Magnemite enjoys seeing Lupin get mad over it.)

Cofagrigus (Lv. 75 with Shadow Ball, Destiny Bond, Curse, Dark Pulse)

This guy does nothing in the team except exist.

Lupin just really really wants it and basically thought it was just a treasure until it started sprouting dark hands out of the coffin and almost kills Lupin after he tried stealing it. But somehow out of some SHEER MIRACLE he makes it out alive and catches the thing. Cofagrigus also reminds me of that one pharaoh episode where Lupin gets possessed by the Tut mask and almost dies so he basically didn't learn his lesson after the first time messing around in Egypt...

Also- it hates Lupin immensely.

Latias (Lv. 67 with Heal Pulse, Psychic, Fly, Safeguard)

Heeere comes the elephant in the room!! Peater?? Why did you pick a legendary pokemon??? Because it's such a Lupin thing to own a legendary obviously!! He'd somehow do it, nothing is impossible for him, if he wants a Latias he gets a Latias.

But no I didn't pick Latias just for that reason alone, but because I needed him to have at least one flying pokemon. I noticed that Lupin usually uses this glider looking thing to escape out of a dangerous situation pretty often along the series so I wanted said flying pokemon to have an airplane-esque build and maybe be red too (because Lupin uses a red glider a lot.)

But yeah! I also remembered how Latias could turn into a human girl in some random pokemon movie I didn't watch and I think she had a crush on Ash or something??? I don't know but that absurdity feels like it belongs in Lupin. Lupin probably met a Latias in human form and after some crazy wacky NPC girl-tv special shenanigans she joins his team.

It's probably my fav member in the team (2nd is jiggly) just because it's so funny to give Lupin a Latias.

And yeah, that's it for all the team members!

Here are the ones I considered putting in:

Aipom

Thievul

Starmie

Yanmega

Swellow

Drifblim

Porygon2

Salandit

Sableye

Dragapult

I don't really have nicknames for these pokemon, so if anyone'd like to name them all then be my guess! Thanks for reading this if you made it the entire way!

[somebodiesspecificstories]

The 'Moving Help' Game

Walter stood waiting on the street for his pick up. He didn't know who was picking him up or why, but he knew he had to be picked up. He had slightly zoned out when he heard a familiar voice

"You too, Walt?" asked Rebecca. Walter was confused for a moment, but realised she was dressed in her gym clothes as well.

"You got that text too?" Rebecca nodded "Any idea what this is about?"

"Well, yes and no. I'm pretty sure hypnotic influence is at play." Rebecca said very casually.

"Hypnotic influence?" Walter said in disbelief.

"Look at the facts, Walt. We get a random text from an unknown number that says 'Go to Mill Street in your gym clothes and wait to be picked up.' and we do it. Does that feel like free will too you?" Walt couldn't answer. "But why me or you... no idea. We're both strong, we go to the same gym and we're dressed for exercise. Maybe someone wants some free personal trainers? Or thinks a threesome with us would be hot."

"A threesome? I'm a married man!"

"That might enhance it for them."

"How are you so calm?" Walt asked scandalised by the whole conversation. Rebecca looked at him and smiled

"I'm a sub, Walt, I think mind control is hot and this is a fantasy coming true in a lot of ways. If we're let go with memories of this, I'll be touching myself to it for the rest of my life." Walt looked at her in horror, he'd didn't think he'd be able to look at her the same way again.

A van pulled up and the two got in. The driver was the Receptionist of their gym! "Sorry to commandeer you two, but I need some muscle to help me move into my new place."

"That's what you wanted?" Walt was angry at this.

"Yeah. You won't remember this soon enough."

"Wait!" shouted Rebecca "You can erase Walt's memory if you want, but I could be so much more for you!"

"Uh... what?"

"She's got a mind control fetish." Walt was quite annoyed by now "I don't and I'd actually like to see my wife today, so can you two work this out later?"

"Uh, sure, we can... talk terms later." the Receptionist was clearly not expecting this.

"I look forward to it."

A month later Walter was leaving the gym, he checked out at the desk and passed Rebecca without a thought. Rebecca smiled and walked up to the Receptionist "I love how oblivious Walt is, how they all are."

"Yes, you've been... quite clear." Rebecca just giggled.

"You know, I love it when we play the 'moving help' game, when Jenny revealed she was also into it mind control, that was fantastic. But I'll always remember the first time with him." Rebecca smirked "They always believe that I'm a sub and the looks on their faces. Oh, God I love it. Brainwashing the staff of a gym and pumping it with subliminals was genius."

"Yes, Mistress." The Receptionist said. Proud of their work satisfying the unofficial Owner of the Gym.

[the-type-a]

Bro my mind is RUNNING I love circus’s lmfao

Courtney taking off her makeup & undoing her pinned up hair at her vanity in her trailer while Duncan lounges on her cot, twirling his smaller daggers 🗡 “can you help me with my corset?” “Sure thing, doll.”

Courtney always getting nervous when Duncan does the more extreme and dangerous tricks, She screams in joy with the crowd when he succeeds!

Duncan being an ass and occasionally making the audience(and her) believe he severely injured himself but then finishing his trick completely fine to the surprise of the audience! He doesn’t do it often to keep the element of surprise 👀

Courtney in the middle of teaching the cats to do new tricks but when they see Duncan wander into the closed off area they pile him for cuddles which both frustrates and melts Courtney’s heart ♥️

Sharing cotton candy in each of their trailers after hours✨

Sometimes when the cats are moody or not feeling good and Courtney can’t control them, Duncan will push courtney out of the cage first in the chance they pounce, he’ll get the brunt of it, Courtney’s the trainer but he ain’t risking SHIT

Courtney always gets amazed when he swallows a sword that’s on fire, she holds her breath for the same amount he does 🔥

Each time Duncan learns a new trick, or Courtney trains one of her cats something new, they always show each other first before Chris or before they bring it to the ring 🎪

They’re each other’s unofficial carnie buddy, neither will be seen without each other

Duncan has thought of escaping multiple times but won’t leave her behind and Courtney stays because she can’t imagine life outside the circus and won’t leave behind her babies 🐅

They unintentionally coordinate their costumes, even tho Izzy is Duncan’s ring partner(cuz of fire tricks lmao) occasionally a child will point it out✨

omg

All of these will be major points in the fic. It’s been added to the list, it’s going to be great!

Also!

They throw popcorn at each other and try to catch it in a fun little game of 20 questions or some shit. And at the very end, when they get to the deep and personal questions, Duncan throws a handful at Courtney to avoid being “sappy”.

AND

Since Izzy is Duncan’s partner for this, imagine her just blatantly saying Duncan and Courtney are in love with each other because she sees them interact the most. Like she’ll mess with them and just run off laughing before they can even flip out on her 💀

[ecargmura]

Dog Signal Episode 13 Review - An Insight To Dog Grooming

Dog Signal returns after a week break. I thought it would be continuing Yuko’s story, but I guess this story doesn’t do three-part stories. There’s always one episode or a two-part episode for each case. But, they’re still really good. This episode focuses on an aspect of dog training that you might not expect it to be training: grooming. That’s right. Ritsuka gets a focus episode!

Ritsuka has always been used as the supportive childhood friend of Niwa’s who has a fiery personality and the mom friend of the cast as she becomes Miyu’s unofficial adopted mother. She, like Niwa and Miyu, have a low tolerance for incompetent dog owners like Yuko. While she’s good at her job, she doesn’t discriminate with patients and even kicks Yuko out when she was being rude to Shikishima as she was wheezing over her dog Shizu’s stench.

The dog of this episode’s case is Shizu, a Shih-tzu, who hates getting trimmed and bites people if touched during grooming sessions. This is why she has been rejected by almost all dog salons save for Fonte, Ritsuka’s salon. I honestly really liked this episode because one wouldn’t think dog grooming requires little training for dogs, but it does! Dogs have to learn to get used to the grooming table and tools. Groomers aren’t trainers, so that means it’s up to Niwa to solve the problem. I really love the fact that the anime goes over five different issues on why a dog would bite during grooming sessions. They then try the methods to see what Shizu’s issues are. Eventually, they figure out that she hates being touched on the butt due to anal sacculitis. She eventually gets a fur cut and then Shikishima is taken to Dr. Kubo’s pet clinic for Shizu’s anal issues. 

I also like Shikishima as a character! She’s old, but adopted her dog from a shelter. While Shizu is her second dog, she never really knew anything about dog care until she stumbled upon Ritsuka who then introduced her to Niwa, Miyu and then Dr. Kubo. The kindness they gave to her really instilled trust into her. That’s the most important thing about training and grooming—getting dog owners to trust these specialists to handle their dogs. Ritsuka didn’t give up on her, so that is why she chose to trust her and in Niwa and Miyu; she then trusts Dr. Kubo with Shizu’s treatment. I loved that Shikishima is a testament that it’s never too late to learn more. She learned so much and wants to help Shizu no matter what. The scene where she decides to trust these people really moved my heart. Speaking of which, her voice actress is Fumi Hirano! She’s a renowned veteran voice actress who was the original voice of Lum from Urusei Yatsura, but now voices Lum’s mother in the remaster version. Shizu, the dog, is voiced by Anna Nagase, who has voiced young Ritsuka back in Episode 6! It’s amazing how this anime gets famous voice actors and actresses as supporting characters!

I love that Miyu is learning new things every single time. He’s too inexperienced to help out with this case, so he just takes notes and be Shikishima’s moral support. He’s not grossed out by Shizu’s stench and just cuddles and is affectionate towards her. His attitude is totally different from Yuko’s. It shows how much he takes his job seriously and how much he admires the people around him.

I really like the little educational segments on dog training for each episode that comes with chibi version of the main cast. I love it when they give dogs voices to voice out their thoughts in certain situations. In this episode, almost all the example dogs have been given voices and the choices were so cute! The little chibi post-credit skits are cute too!

I cannot deny that this is my comfort anime for now. This anime really just hit the feels at times. It’s also really educational too. The part where Niwa uses the back of the brush to help Shizu get used to the brush is something I should try with my poodle as he hates being brushed! I’ll let you know if it works out! What are your thoughts on this episode?

[prof-peach]

What's your opinion on Fossil Pokémon? Do you think the practice of reviving fossils is ethical? These Pokémon are suddenly thrown into a world that was different from the one they knew, so I imagine they might flip out.

Personally? Nah, I don’t think it’s the right thing to do. Humans playing god as per. All the gained info in the world won’t make that right in my eyes, luckily some of the fossils seem to adapt well to the current time. Most revival facilities are under great scrutiny to be safe, and concern themselves with the welfare of the Pokemon. That’s not to say however, that in getting here to the present day with our capable revival process, that many fossil Pokemon haven’t been reanimated wrong. Like. In pain wrong. Suffering tests to see if the process will work or not. Think of the trials, and for what? To bring back a handful of Pokemon who don’t belong in this timeline? Idk man, feels... big headed. Very human I suppose.

Plenty of fossils do make it, and today the fail rate of a fossil revival is so low, even novice unofficial revival is an option, I’m looking at you Cara Liss, you ain’t trained, those Galar abominations are your fault. You have to sleep at night knowing that.

I don’t think, once something dies for whatever reason, we have the right to reverse that. Everything ends, there’s no escaping that one true eternal fate all things meet a some point. To fight it is futile, may as well focus on the here and now. I think asking me is a bit bias, I’ve got an stupid sweet crazy idiot Omanyte who really had it hard, so hard he himself became something quite evil at times. We also get sent fossils that are pretty badly treated and passed around, like some rare plaything, not often as cared for and loved as you’d hope. Our population stays relatively low, thanks to rehoming programs and adoptions, but still. They need quite a bit of tailored care, not something your average kid trainer can provide.

[minisugakoobies]

Baby  | KTH

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: romance, fluff, Neighbor!AU

Rating: T

Warnings: drinking, smooching (it's truly just pure fluff), mutual pining, reader is oblivious

Word Count: 5.3K

Disclaimers: None, other than I obviously don’t own BTS - they simply inspire me

Summary: It's just another Saturday night out, drinking with your favorite people, trying to pretend that you're not completely in love with your best friend.

A/N: 2018 Festa Taehyung has been haunting me for months. This is my attempt to exorcise the demon. This is my first BTS fanfic, unbeta'd. Please let me know what you think! Enjoy!

Prequel: Fireworks

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜 

It was another Saturday night, and you were hanging out at the local pub with your friends. It was a weekly tradition, drinking away the stress of the workweek with your favorite people.

But while your friends were cutting loose, eagerly downing bottles of beer and soju, several rounds deep, you were on edge, alert.

Because you were deeply in love with your best friend, Taehyung, and afraid of him finding out.

You’d known Taehyung for going on two years now, starting the day he and his roommates had moved into the house next to yours. A moving truck rolled up one morning and you’d watched as one good-looking man after another had emerged and begun unloading boxes. Around midday, you popped next door to offer some homemade lemonade to the very handsome (and very sweaty) men and introduced yourself.

You were surprised to learn that all seven of them were to be your new neighbors – but then, the only reason you could afford to live in your house on your own was because your great aunt had bequeathed it to you.

To your delight, the guys were excited to have someone from the area who could escort them around town and clue them in on all the hidden gems of your neighborhood. You’d taken Jin to the culinary hotspots, Yoongi to the underground concert venues, Jimin and Hoseok to the hottest dance clubs. Jungkook was thrilled when you’d hooked him up with a friend who was an in-demand personal trainer and Namjoon loved the hip little bookshop you’d shown him. And Taehyung had been over the moon when you’d guided him to a funky art gallery that was nestled away from the beaten path.

While you’d come to think of them all as friends, you were easily closest to Taehyung. The two of you had bonded immediately, connecting over your love of the local art scene. Taehyung was a talented photographer, and you’d quickly become his unofficial location scout, helping him find out-of-the-way locales just begging to be captured.

The hours you spent together flew by. Tae had the silliest sense of humor and could make you laugh harder than anyone else you knew. He was also so thoughtful and kind, and at some point, you realized you’d stopped looking at him as Taehyung, your friend, and started seeing him as Taehyung. As this incredible man whose smile could cause your breath to stutter and your heart to skip a beat.

Yeah, sure, obviously you’d always known he was handsome, but lately you could barely look at him without feeling like you were going to just completely melt.

You sat in your usual seat at your regular table at the pub, Taehyung on your right and Namjoon on your left. Jungkook and Jimin sat to Taehyung’s right, deep in discussion. On Namjoon’s other side, Jin, Yoongi, and Hoseok were arguing over who would get the next round of drinks. (Eventually Namjoon stepped in and volunteered, eyes rolling as he pointed out that there was no need to argue because everyone always bought one round in turn.)

Although you wanted to cut loose, you found yourself merely sipping your drink as the night wore on, afraid that too much beer would lower your guard. There was no telling what you’d say or do with too much booze in your system. What if you finally confessed your feelings to Taehyung?

No. Nope. Nuh-uh. That is NOT happening.

As the guys around you traded jokes and told stories about their exhausting weeks, your mind wandered, thinking as always about all the little things you loved about Tae.

There was his smile. When something made him truly happy, his lips would pull back to reveal a perfectly boxy grin. It was unique, and completely irresistible.

Or there was the way he would walk around randomly breaking into song. For example, you would be sitting on his couch, waiting for him to return from the kitchen with a snack, and you would suddenly hear his dulcet voice belting out a few lines of a random aria. He didn’t care where he was or who he was with – if Tae was moved to sing, then he’d sing. It made you smile every time.

And then there was the fact that he was a cuddler. All the guys were affectionate, with each other and with you, which you loved, but Taehyung, oh, Taehyung lived to hold and be held. This had you feeling like the cat that got the cream at first, luxuriating in the way he’d wrap an arm around you on the couch or pull you into his side while lying on the floor together for movie night. But now, when he reached for you, you hesitated to draw close, fearing that your face would give you away.

Because you were totally, completely in love with him, and you didn’t want him to know.

You’d been down that road before, falling for a friend. It had ended in heartbreak. The love wasn’t reciprocated, and your friendship had never recovered from your confession. The thought of losing Taehyung was too much to bear, so you did your best to keep your feelings to yourself, never letting anyone know.

As long as you could be his friend, that was enough, right?

You took another tiny sip of your beer, sighing quietly. Well, you thought you were quiet, anyway.

“Everything ok, Y/N?”

Ah, should’ve known he’d notice. Taehyung always noticed any shifts in your mood.

You shifted in your seat to look at your friend. Taehyung wore a black button down covered in a light red floral pattern and tight jeans that clung to his thighs in the most distracting way. His wavy dark hair hung in his eyes as he studied your face carefully.

He looked unbelievably handsome, as usual.

Quickly arranging your face into what you hoped was a casual expression, you shrugged. “I’m fine, Tae. Just tired after a stressful week.” You grabbed your bottle, taking another drink in the hopes of ending the conversation.

No such luck.

“So how did your presentation go yesterday?” He reached for his own bottle and tilted it back, taking a long dram. “I know you were worried about it all week.”

You’d only mentioned it to him once, this big presentation that your boss had asked you to pull together on Monday, but of course, he’d detected how stressed you’d been about it. He was so observant.

Which made you even more nervous about accidentally revealing how you felt about him.

“Well, once I remembered how to screenshare properly, it went great, thanks for asking. My boss was really impressed and said she’s going to pass along my ideas to her boss for consideration, with full credit.” You couldn’t help but grin, proud of yourself.

Taehyung’s face lit up, his boxy smile on full display. “Y/N! That’s fantastic! I told you you’d do great – you’re so amazing at your job.” He reached out and tugged you into his side for a hug. You bit back a gasp at the sudden movement, hoping that your expression hadn’t given away the sheer joy you felt at being wrapped up in his arms.

Maybe enjoying yourself for just a minute wouldn’t be so bad. You closed your eyes as Taehyung pulled you close, resting your head on his chest, basking in his warmth.

So cozy.

“Uh, did Y/N pass out already, or are you two just having a moment, Taehyung?”

Crap. Opening your eyes, you saw Jimin cocking his head at the two of you in curiosity.

“Ha, that’s rich coming from a lightweight like you, Jimin,” you shot back. You attempted to squirm out of Taehyung’s grip, but he simply tightened his grasp. God, has he always been this strong?

Images of his biceps bulging under rolled-up t-shirt sleeves suddenly came unbidden to your mind. You shook your head, as if you could clear the thirsty thoughts like wiping an Etch-a-Sketch.

Taehyung laughed cheerfully, and you could feel his voice rumbling through his chest. “We’re just celebrating! Y/N killed her work presentation, like I knew she would.” His smile was practically blinding as he grinned at Jimin.

“Did someone say they’re celebrating?” Jin’s voice cut in. “That calls for more drinks!” He waved his arms at your waiter, signaling another round.

“Don’t you want to know what we’re celebrating first?” you asked Jin, finally slithering out of Taehyung’s hug and settling back in your seat.

“Doesn’t matter! Whatever it is, it requires more alcohol. Everything is better with more alcohol!”

“What about sobriety?” Yoongi piped up, not looking up from the plate of wings that he and Namjoon were currently attacking.

Jin glared at Yoongi’s bowed head. “Why are you the way that you are?”

Yet another round of drinks soon followed. Your friends began showing their tells, tipping their hands to reveal how drunk they were becoming. Hoseok had fallen silent, his face turning a deeper shade of red with every drink. Jungkook had pulled out his phone and held it in his lap, no doubt texting “wyd” to one of his many admirers. Jimin kept tumbling out of his chair (although to be fair, he did that frequently while sober, too).

Jin was currently holding court, regaling the table with the story of how he’d found himself locked out of their house the other day wearing nothing but a bathrobe left behind by an ex... a much, much shorter ex.

Everyone at the table was laughing at Jin’s dramatic retelling. Everyone except for Taehyung, that is, who sat silently smiling to himself. He was slightly slumped over in his seat, arms folded across his chest, eyes half-shut. To the casual observer, he looked like he was enjoying Jin’s tale, but you could tell by the way he was humming to himself that he wasn’t paying any attention.

You could also tell that he was maybe one drink away from being totally and completely wasted.

Flagging down your waiter, you requested a glass of water. He returned with it quickly, and you plopped it down in front of Taehyung.

“Hey Tae?” You scooted your chair a little closer to his so he could hear you over Jin’s animated recounting.

He turned his face towards you, eyes still nearly closed. “Yeah, Y/N?” He grinned at you, and you told your treacherous heart to stop skipping beats.

“I’m gonna need you to drink this glass of water, ok? Let’s just stop with the beer for now and focus on water instead.” You slid the glass towards him.

Taehyung blinked at you, lashes dreamily fluttering closed, then slowly turned his head to look at the water before turning back to you. “Okay, baby,” he purred, his low voice vibrating through you. “I’ll drink some water.”

Baby?

You froze at the pet name. Uh. That’s new. You were close, you had your nicknames, but they’d never strayed into this territory before.

But the word sounded so nice, so natural rolling off his tongue. A warmth started to spread through your chest as his voice echoed in your head, repeating the word over and over.

Taehyung picked up the glass and took a swig as your shock wore off.

He’s obviously drunk. Drunk people say all sorts of wild things.

But wasn’t there some saying about “in vino veritas?”

I don’t know – who even speaks Latin anymore?

Cursing your general lack of Latin knowledge, you tried to focus on what was happening around you. Jin’s soliloquy finally ended, leaving everyone practically in tears from cracking up. Jimin was on the floor, having laughed so hard he had fallen out of his chair. Again.

Meanwhile, Taehyung had nearly finished his water. “Whoa, slow down there, Tae, I didn’t mean you had to chug it!” You gently pried the glass from his hand and set it on the table. “Sorry, baby,” he hummed, slumping back in his seat again. His dark hair fell into his eyes, and you resisted the urge to brush it away as the pet name slid from his lips for the second time. His hand, no longer clutching his glass, dropped below the table and came to rest on your thigh.

There went your traitorous heart again.

The sound of snickering caught your attention. You looked over the table to see Jimin, once again seated, watching you and Taehyung with a smirk on his face.

He’d definitely heard what Taehyung had called you.

All the while, Taehyung’s fingers were tracing feather-light circles on your leg.

It was very distracting.

“Tae!” You giggled, maybe a little too loudly. “You goof, why do you keep calling me that?” You nervously watched Jimin out of the corner of your eye, hoping he hadn’t seen anything on your face when the term of endearment had slipped from Taehyung’s lips.

Taehyung was the picture of confusion. “Calling you what?” He withdrew his hand from your leg.

“Uh, baby?” you replied, painfully aware that Jimin was observing you both like a hawk.

Taehyung stared at you, still perplexed. He tilted his head. “Are you not my baby?” His husky voice sounded utterly confounded, dark eyes peering at you from underneath his bangs.

Oh, please don’t look at me like that. You felt yourself melting under his gaze, and bit your lip, trying to figure out how to respond.

A loud guffaw rang out from your left, and you jumped, surprised by the sound. You spun in your seat, convinced that it was at your expense, but were relieved to see that it was just Namjoon entertaining the others. A quick sweep of the table to your left showed you that none of them were looking your way. And to your right, Jungkook still sat staring at his phone, his hoodie cloaking most of his face. But Jimin… his eyes were focused on you and Taehyung over his bottle as he sipped his beer.

Ignoring him, you swiveled back to face Taehyung. “Tae, I think you’ve had too much to drink,” you stated, trying to smile normally, like your heart wasn’t racing and your every action wasn’t currently being scrutinized by a certain infamous chair combatant. “I don’t think you know what you’re saying! Better drink some more water.” You grabbed the glass and offered it to him.

He didn’t take it, still gazing blankly at your face. The tiniest pout appeared on his perfectly shaped mouth, his bottom lip puffing out slightly.

How many times had you dreamt about nibbling on that lip?

Good lord, focus!

“So… you’re not?” he asked again quietly, his voice so hushed you could almost pretend you hadn’t heard him.

You didn’t reply, waving the water in front of him, urging him to take it. He finally lowered his gaze to the glass and reached for it languidly. Once his fingers curled around the glass, you breathed a sigh of relief.

You had just reached for your own drink and lifted it to your lips when you heard him murmur, “Do you wanna be?”

You wheezed, the beer in your mouth abruptly flooding into your lungs. A large hand suddenly whacked you on the back – gently but firmly, Namjoon trying his best to help you breathe.

You didn’t have to look at Jimin to know that the mad cackling you heard was coming from him.

“Are you ok, Y/N?” Hoseok called out, his bright red face concerned. You waved your hand, unable to speak as you coughed up the liquid.

“Fine, I’m fine,” you finally sputtered. Namjoon gave you one last comforting pat on the back as you attempted to smile reassuringly at all the alarmed faces.

“I think it’s probably time to go,” Yoongi spoke up, thankfully taking the spotlight off you. He pointed at Jungkook. “Jungkook’s already asleep.”

Leaning over the table, you closely examined Jungkook’s face, still shrouded in his hoodie, and realized that he wasn’t texting anyone but was instead sleeping peacefully, his hand somehow still clutching his phone.

Jimin sighed. “Yah, some people just can’t hold their booze.” He glanced at Taehyung, then locked eyes with you, giving you another smirk before you tore your gaze away. “I’ll take care of getting Jungkook back to the house.”

Everyone else began slowly getting up. You regarded Taehyung carefully, knowing that he was still drunk enough that he was going to need help getting home. But that was apparently clear to everyone else as well.

“You guys go ahead. I’ll help Taehyung get back,” Namjoon informed the group.

You turned to Taehyung and peeled the empty glass of water from his hand. “Hey Tae, I’m gonna go now. Joonie’s gonna help you walk home, ok?”

Taehyung tilted his head towards you and nodded. “Ok, ba- Y/N,” he stuttered, his wavy hair bouncing as his bobbed his head. “Good night.” He gave you a sweet smile, and you tried not to swoon in case other eyes were upon you. With a small smile, you murmured goodbye as you rose and headed for the door.

It was tradition after a Saturday night of drinking with the guys to spend Sunday morning eating a delicious, often greasy breakfast together in order to avoid the dreaded hangover. This week was your turn to provide breakfast, and that meant a trip to your favorite bagel shop for sandwiches. Around mid-morning, you awoke and stretched, thinking happily about the bacon and fried egg sandwich you would be devouring shortly… and then you heard Taehyung’s deep voice ringing in your ears.

“Baby.”

You sat up quickly as memories of the previous evening ran through your head. You could vividly recall the pout on Taehyung’s lips when he’d wondered if you were his… his what? What did he even mean, calling me that? Does he ever remember what he said?

Does he remember asking if I wanted to be his?

With a groan, you swung yourself out of bed. By the time you’d showered, dressed, and walked to the shop, you’d already decided that you weren’t going to drive yourself crazy with such questions. Taehyung had been drunk, and that was that. He probably didn’t remember anything. You guys would eat breakfast, play a round or two of Mario Kart like it was any other Sunday, and things would be completely normal. And you could go on nursing your crush with no one being any the wiser.

You were very good at convincing yourself, sometimes.

You knocked on the guys’ door not much later, hands full with several bags of breakfast. Jungkook answered, throwing the door open wide. “Food’s here!” he yelled, grabbing the bags from you. He started for the kitchen before you’d even closed the door.

“Good morning, Y/N! Oh, how nice to see you, Y/N! Hey, thanks for breakfast, Y/N!” you sighed dramatically as you followed him.

Jungkook set the bags on the kitchen island before whirling around and pulling you into a hug. Surprised, you laughed loudly as he lifted you into the air and spun you a few times before releasing you. “You’re the best, Y/N.” He flashed you a cute bunny smile before he turned his attention back to the food.

Still giggling, you wandered over to where Jungkook had already brewed a pot of coffee and poured yourself a cup. You took a seat on a stool at the kitchen island as the others began trickling into the kitchen, drawn by Jungkook’s shout. “Morning, Y/N,” Hoseok mumbled, his impressive bedhead making you giggle again. Yoongi shuffled by, his eyes only fully opening once he’d had a sip of coffee.

“Rough morning, guys?” you teased, propping your elbow on the island and resting your chin in your hand. Namjoon wandered into the kitchen and joined you on a stool, followed by Jin, who grunted what you assumed was meant to be a greeting. More mugs of coffee were distributed until everyone seemed awake, if not alert.

“Y/N, how are you so chipper this early?” Jin asked as he sorted through the sandwiches.

“First of all, it’s almost noon, Jin,” you retorted, laughing as he grunted again. “Secondly, unlike some people, I didn’t drink my body weight in booze last night, so I feel fine.” Namjoon, sipping his coffee next to you, snorted into his mug.

“Are those the only reasons you’re so happy this morning?” a voice inquired from behind you. Jimin.

Oh crap. You suddenly remembered the way Jimin had been watching you and Taehyung last night, scrutinizing your every move. You swiveled your stool to face him as he leaned in the doorway. One look at his face now and you knew.

He knows.

He wouldn’t say anything in front of the others… would he?

Time for evasive maneuvers.

“Of course not,” you drawled, looking at the blonde. He lifted an eyebrow in response. You flashed him a smile, hoping it looked more confident than you felt. “I’m also happy because… I get to see all your sweet faces again!” Reaching out, you pinched Namjoon’s cheeks, causing the tall man’s dimples to appear as he smiled bashfully. “How could I feel anything less than blessed about that, Jiminie?” You blew them all big, theatrical air kisses, chuckling as Jin pretended to catch his and blew you one back.

Jimin rolled his eyes at your goofy answer, but thankfully didn’t say anything else. You huffed out a sigh of relief.

Standing on the other side of the island, Yoongi squinted at you suspiciously. “You say you didn’t drink much last night, Y/N, but… are you sure you’re not drunk now?”

After much reassurance that you were, in fact, completely sober, the guys shambled into their living room to eat their breakfast. Needing a minute to collect yourself, you remained in the kitchen.

Unfortunately, so did Jimin.

“You know that’s not what I was referring to, right?” he asked from his spot in the entryway, arms crossed over his chest.

Well, at least he’s not going to drag this out.

You assessed the blonde man carefully. Of all the guys, Jimin was the closest to Taehyung. They were practically in their own world sometimes. As far as you knew, they didn’t have any secrets from each other.

Which meant that your secret was in danger.

You opened your mouth, intending to beg Jimin to keep quiet, but he cut you off. “Y/N,” he began, stepping closer until he stopped directly in front of you. “You know that I love Taehyung, and that I’d never do anything to hurt him, right?”

You nodded.

“Then you know that I’d never betray his confidence.” You nodded again. None of this was news to you.

Where are you going with this, Jimin?

Jimin inclined his head slightly, looking straight into your eyes. “But if it was for his good… if it would help him, then maybe it would be ok to let something slip. Or to hint at something. Especially if someone else figured it out first. You know?”

Oh no. You stared at Jimin, trying to comprehend. Did he mean that he was going to tell Taehyung that he knew you liked him? Hint at it or maybe even just spell it right out?

But what did he mean by someone else figuring it out?

Something was bubbling in your chest. You needed him to get to his point now or you were going to explode.

After a few minutes of silence between you, Jimin sighed. “I don’t think I’m explaining myself right… let me start over.” He ran his hands through his hair, then jumped up on the stool next to you. “Taehyung and I – “ “Please don’t tell him that I love him!” The words burst from your lips before you could stop them. You clapped your hands over your mouth, horrified.

Well, shit.

Jimin broke off, mouth hanging open mid-word, shocked by your outburst. He sat there gawking at you for what felt like hours to your panicked mind but was likely only mere seconds.

Then he started to laugh. Hard.

“Don’t laugh at me!” you yelped, anger overriding your embarrassment. You waved your hands at him. “I can’t help the way I feel! Just because it’s hopeless doesn’t give you the right to mock m– “

Jimin slid off his stool and grabbed your hands, stilling your movements. You blinked at him as he shook his head. “No, no, Y/N, I’m not mocking you!” He smiled, still chuckling. “Please believe me. I just didn’t realize… oh, this is ridiculously perfect!” He shook his head again.

“Jimin, look, I don’t really understand what you’re saying,” you began, “but - “

“He’s in love with you, Y/N.”

What?

“He’s – Taehyung – he’s – what?” you floundered as Jimin released your hands with a soft smile.

“That’s what I was trying to get at, without just straight up telling you his secret. I mean, last night at the bar, I kinda thought you’d figured it out?” Jimin rubbed the back of his neck. “He wasn’t being very stealthy about it.” He glanced at you and laughed. “But I guess you didn’t know, judging by your face right now.”

WHAT?

You were frozen in surprise, mouth hanging open as you tried to comprehend what Jimin was saying. Taehyung? Was in love? With you??

“I mean, he begged me not to tell you. Said he was afraid that you might not feel the same way.” Jimin continued. “But I guess that’s not really a problem, is it? Since you just declared you love him too.”

A roar sounded from the living room. From the sound of it, Mario Kart was already happening, and no one was happy that Jin was winning (except, of course, for Jin). Jimin grabbed one of the remaining sandwiches and headed toward the kitchen door. At the threshold, he stopped and looked back at you. “Someone should probably go wake up Taehyung before his breakfast gets cold.” He paused. “Not me. But someone.” With a smirk, he disappeared into the living room.

Someone should wake Tae. Right. You glanced around the empty kitchen and blinked rapidly.

Oh crap, I’m someone.

Jimin’s departure left you sitting alone, staring unseeing at the last sandwich on the countertop.

Your thoughts were once again a jumble, as countless emotions fought for dominance.

Had you been worried over nothing this whole time? You’d thought for sure that if you told Taehyung how you felt, he’d reject you, and you’d lose your friend. But Jimin had put an end to that fear with one simple sentence.

“He’s in love with you, Y/N.”

Suddenly, you needed to see Taehyung, right away. You sprang up from your seat, grabbing the sandwich. You snagged a bottle of water from the fridge, then bounded down the hall to one of the bathrooms, stopping to rifle through the medicine cabinet quick. Arms laden, you continued up the stairs and came to a stop outside Taehyung’s room.

His door was still closed. Leaning close, you pressed your ear to the door. Silence. Probably still sleeping. You bit your lip, trying to decide if you should let him sleep. Maybe. But if you waited, there was a good chance you’d lose your nerve, so you squared your shoulders and knocked gently.

“Mmmph,” came a grunted reply.

“Tae?” you called softly, opening the door a crack. The room was dark. “You awake?”

Rustling. “No.” The answer came from a lump of blankets on his bed.

“I brought you a sandwich,” you singsonged, waving the food in the air, trying to waft the scent his way.

More rustling. A hand extended from the pile, palm up.

Rolling your eyes, you crept closer to his bed and lightly placed the sandwich in his hand. The hand withdrew, and you heard the sandwich being unwrapped. After a minute, the blankets shifted and a head appeared, chewing.

Taehyung’s bedhead was an incredible sight. His curls looked like a dark, fluffy cloud bouncing above his head as he ate. His eyes were barely open, and you knew he was definitely feeling the previous night’s libations.

“I brought you this, too,” you said, setting the water and some aspirin on his nightstand. He grabbed both eagerly.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he murmured, his deep voice thick with sleep. He fully emerged from his blanket cocoon, his tight white t-shirt rumpled as he slid over and patted the space next to him on the bed.

You sat and took a deep breath, trying to keep your heart from racing. “How’re you feeling?”

Taehyung groaned. “You remember that time we got drunk at your Fourth of July party and ended up sleeping under the picnic table?”

Do I remember? Of course, you remembered. That had been a particularly rowdy evening, hanging out in your backyard, involving several intense rounds of beer pong and a kicked keg. It had ended with you watching the fireworks from underneath your picnic table, wrapped in Taehyung’s arms. You’d both passed out under there, and while you’d been thrilled to wake up by his side, the stiffness from sleeping on the hard ground coupled with the hangover had left you feeling like death warmed over.

You winced. “Oof, that bad?”

He nodded. “That bad.” He balled up the empty sandwich wrapper and tossed it away, then drank the remainder of his water. “But I’m starting to feel better already, thanks to you.” He smiled, eyes scrunching shut happily.

Your heart did a flip.

“I’m glad to hear that,” you replied honestly. “So… about last night…” You fiddled with the end of his blanket, suddenly feeling nervous. “What do you remember, exactly?”

Taehyung cocked his head at you. “Uh, I remember drinking. Then there was more drinking. Oh, and I think there was also some drinking.” He frowned slightly. “Why, did something happen?”

“Oh, no, nothing happened, really.” You looked down at your hands as they twisted the blanket into knots. “But… do you remember saying anything? To me?”

When you looked up, Taehyung was staring at you. “No… did I… what did I say?” He looked worried. “I can’t recall anything I said.”

“Oh.” You took a deep breath. “So… you don’t remember calling me ‘baby’?” you asked, your tone light and innocent. “Or asking me if I was your baby? Or,” you leaned closer to him, dropping your voice a little, “asking me if I wanted to be your baby?”

Taehyung’s eyes widened. “I – what?!” One hand flew up to grab his hair, pulling at it as he gawked at you. “I said what?!”

You stifled a laugh at his expression. He seemed completely surprised to learn that he’d practically confessed his love to you last night.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he stammered, releasing his hair and holding his hands in front of him as if begging forgiveness. “I don’t… I don’t remember saying that. If I made you uncomfortable or upset you… fuck, I’m sorry, I don’t kn-“

“Ah, well, I’m sorry to hear that you don’t remember,” you interrupted his pleading. His eyes shot to yours in confusion.

“You’re… sorry?” he repeated, blinking slowly.

Nodding, you slid closer. You were sitting face-to-face, only a few inches between you. Looking up into his handsome face, you locked eyes. “Yeah. Because… I liked the thought of being your baby.” You bit your lip. “Was kinda hoping you’d call me that again.”

Something dark glimmered in Taehyung’s eyes as you stared into them. One of his eyebrows lifted slightly, as if asking a question, and you silently responded by tilting your head up.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you to him, and dropped his mouth to yours.

He kissed you softly, his lips moving gently. You looped your arms around his neck as he deepened the kiss, pressing his perfect mouth more firmly against yours. Then he sat back, both of you breathing heavily, and gave you a wicked smile that made you shudder in his arms.

“Ok, baby,” he crooned, the word dripping from his lips thick and sweet as honey as he pulled you in for another kiss.

© 2021-22-23 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

[bluevalleybreakingnews]

50 Season 3 Predictions!

I’m bored and the Stargirl fandom seems like it’s in a bit of a lull in the off-season, so I’m cultivating fifty plot point predictions for season three! I’m ranking these roughly in order from things that will almost definitely happen to things that I don’t really think are going to happen but might be fun! I’m going to update these predictions the day before Season 3 premieres, and use it as a sort of Bingo to see just how much of this season that I can predict properly. If you want to, let me know what you think about my list, and make your own if you want!

1. The season premiere opening flashback relates to Todd, or at the very least, some nefarious shenanigans at the Helix Institute

2. Crusher once again takes it upon himself to be Pat’s personal trainer

3. Rick manages to either fix the Hourglass or create Miraclo, but with more features than the original Hourglass, making him the new and improved Hourman

4. This is only after an outing or two where he tag teams with Beth because by himself, without his strength, he has to rely on strategy, and charging into battle without thinking led to some (off-screen?) horrific consequence

5. Cindy and Yolanda continuously try to one-up each other in the first fight/mission the JSA goes on this season

6. There are multiple lunchroom scenes that exist solely for the purpose of setting up drama (a vague prediction but I am expecting some kind of spectacle to go down in the cafeteria at some point, potentially the first episode, since it is tradition)

7. Beth helps Rick look into colleges (and Rick decides to be a Chemistry major, Beth Comp Sci/Pre-Med double major)

8. Jennie is brought back into the fold because she and Courtney just so happen to be investigating the Helix Institute at the same time (since Mister Bones seemed like he had some interest in Blue Valley)

9. Rick and Beth have a scene that gives more than just some Hournite crumbs (most likely, Rick asking Beth to this year’s homecoming dance?)

10. On that note, a Homecoming Episode (registered trademark)

11. Courtney and Cameron are hanging out together, but instead of Courtney having to bail due to JSA business, Cameron leaves for some reason (ISA-adjacent? Just his grandparents? Something I’m not thinking about?)

12. Either that or Yolanda and Rick notice the two of them hanging out and very rudely insert themselves, antagonize him, and make him storm out

13. OR he sees Cindy being buddy-buddy with Courtney and second-guesses his relationship with her (is this really three predictions or just one? Does it matter? Fifty predictions at this point kinda seems like it’s going to be impossible to reach)

14. The Gambler comes back to take over the American Dream, or at least reclaim his position as CFO (I’m like 80% sure I saw him in the premiere table read photo)

15. The Shade helps the JSA practice a theoretical fight that they might have against Obsidian and absolutely wipes the floor with them

16. Starman briefly takes over from Pat as the major role model in Courtney’s life, but does something horrible that leads to Courtney asking him to leave Blue Valley

17. Obsidian serves as a minor antagonist throughout the first 75% of the season and decides to join the side of the JSA during a time where they direly need a change of tide (and an emotional confrontation with his sister)

18. Jakeem and Mike decide to form their own rival teen superhero team that gets called on a lot for petty jobs at first (like the cliche getting cats out of trees, but with STRIPE or the Thunderbolt)

19. Zeek is the unofficial sponsor of whatever this team decides to call themselves, and becomes the Thunderbolt’s best friend (sorry, Jakeem)

20. Solomon Grundy makes a late-season appearance, but does not remember Rick at all, which makes Rick emo

21. Beth’s parents design new costumes (that will not be seen until either the season finale or Season 4)

22. Cindy and Yolanda bond over the trauma they have experienced from their families, but Yolanda is ultimately not able to forgive Cindy

23. Charles McNider is barely in this season physically, but radios in via Beth’s and his goggles regularly

24. Crusher and Paula try to convince Pat and Barbara to tell Courtney to let Artemis into the JSA

25. Cameron appears on the Whitmore-Dugans’ porch with the legitimate interest in seeing Courtney but Mike answers the door and has PTSD from his Eclipso vision

26. Rick is able to become an emancipated minor, leaving his Uncle Matt’s household for some crappy apartment (maybe in that living room area of the Pit Stop)

27. Cosmic Staff lore finally drops (Ted Knight appearance?)

28. There are more Golden Age JSA flashbacks, but Starman is less mean to Pat in them, since these flashbacks are told from Sylvester’s perspective

29. The JSA once again experiences a schism this season, but instead of members being out of commission, the group fractures into two (and they potentially fight each other)

30. Crusher and Paula hunt down the recruiter that told Artemis that she couldn’t be in the Big 10 and beat him until he agrees to give her a second chance

31. Mike has a retrospective heart-to-heart with the Thunderbolt about why their situations might have ended up working out for the better

32. Barbara and Cindy expand upon the little moment they had in Season 2, and Barbara becomes an adopted wholesome mother figure in Cindy’s life

33. There is an official rite-of-passage moment in which Sylvester observes Courtney and the JSA doing something he and the Golden Age JSA could never work out/achieve in their prime, and “Starman” by David Bowie plays

34. There is an Icicle-related flashback that either shows how the Mahkent family line(s) got their ice powers OR

35. Parallels the funerals of Christine and Jordan Mahkent (and maybe a grandparent should one of them not see the season finale?)

36. Pat once again does not get to fly STRIPE this season

37. Somebody’s parent gets kidnapped this season (most likely Beth’s)

38. Artemis gets a training montage with her parents, and gets a codename (I don’t think it’ll be Sportsmaster II or Tigress II, but something different)

39. Jennie exhibits some kind of plant powers, potentially teasing Rose Canton (not in terms of her being a major player in a future season, but just acknowledging that that is her and Todd’s mother)

40. The Shade joins the American Dream because why not (legitimately I don’t know why he’s going to be in this upcoming season, like I don’t have any idea what plotpoint he will be important to besides maybe knowing about Mister Bones)

41. OG Wildcat’s son (Thomas Bronson?) is somehow related to the Helix Institute plotline

42. Mike builds a STRIPE suit of his own (more reminiscent of Blue Beetle, perhaps) and gives back the original suit to his father

43. Should Courtney and Cameron have to fight each other this season, it ends with Courtney kicking Cameron in the balls while he is monologuing (as to be comic-accurate)

44. Alex Montez is slightly relevant again in this season, but in a way that has nothing to do with the comics (since they aren’t going to do Eclipso again)

45. Cyclone is teased towards the end of the season (or perhaps they would wait to include her, if they do end up including her, in the event of a college season?)

46. Mister Bones reforms by the end of the season and sets up Infinity Inc. as a partner team to the JSA, based elsewhere in the country, most likely in Civic City (and maybe sets up a spin-off?)

47. Courtney accidentally loses Doctor Fate’s helmet (did she even take it in the first place??? Or is it still at JSA HQ???) and it winds up with a teacher

48. Courtney ends up creating some kind of memorial for the people that Blue Valley lost over the course of the past three seasons, potentially building it in the JSA HQ

49. The season ends with one of the cliffhangers being Pat and Barbara telling Courtney and Mike that they are going to be having a baby together (Patricia Dugan, future Starwoman should Stargirl ever tackle a time travel/future season)

50. The villain that is teased for next season is Johnny Sorrow, potentially working with Cindy, Cameron, and Artemis (but honestly who knows what the dynamics of the kids are going to look like by the end of next season?)

Let me know if you agree with any of these predictions! Also if you want to talk to me in-depth about any of these, my asks should be open, and I am always in the mood to talk somebody’s ear off about Stargirl!

[wlw-multi-fandom-imagines]

Hey, may i ask for a little scenario where Cheryl blossom falls for a new Femreader student who's a pro kick boxer and can kicke asses (but at first sight she doesn't seem like it) when reader intervens on day when Cheryl Veronica and Betty start an argument with some guys from the sport team who are quite violente. Thank you !

Before she signed you up for your first lesson, your mother had very solemnly laid out a few ground rules regarding your year-long campaign start kickboxing.

1.  No hanging out after hours at the gym

You were only 14 at the time, but your mom wasn’t naive and she noticed the intensity in your gaze as you’d pass the gym and the way your face reddened as you stammered out a few words to the older girls standing out front when they asked if you were interested (in kickboxing, of course).  If she was going to pay for lessons, you’d better be focused on your trainer and not securing a hookup for later.

2.  No hiding injuries

You had hated going to the doctor since childhood, and it became apparent early on that you would go to great lengths to avoid doing so.  From denying fevers to the time you had hidden two broken toes for a week, you always made every effort to mend yourself up before revealing anything was wrong.  If you were going to fight, you had to be honest and suck it up enough to see a doctor if you needed to.

3. No fights outside the ring.

That one had been hard to stick to at times.  Though not violent by any means, you were quick-tempered and needed to get a handle on it if you were going to get “punching lessons”.  

You had agreed to all of these rules, to your mother’s subtle surprise, and had been in the gym every afternoon after school since.  And, to her immense relief, you didn’t allow the other women at the gym to distract you.  It was easier than you had initially thought, especially considering most of them were hot-headed and honestly a little too similar to yourself to consider dating.  

Cheryl, on the other hand...Cheryl got you wrapped around her finger within weeks of your arrival to Riverdale.  Your official tour guide to the new school, Betty, had introduced the two of you during your lunch period.  One look at the subtle flex of your muscles beneath the shirt you were wearing was enough to catch her attention, and the game was on.  

--------------------------------------------------

“Hey, your girl and her little friends are starting a fight.”

You looked up from your phone, frowning in confusion at the unfamiliar person in front of you.  You hadn’t cared to get to know many others at the school once settling in with Cheryl and her friend group, but judging by the sweatshirt, this was clearly the girlfriend of one of the lacrosse players.

“What?”

“Cheryl, Betty, and Veronica are in the parking lot with some of the football-”

You didn’t bother staying to hear the rest, opting instead to zip up your backpack and sling it over your shoulder.  Standing up quickly, you brushed past a few fellow students just arriving in the student lounge and high-tailed it towards the front entrance.

As you neared the doors, you saw a small crowd gathering near the parking spots that were unofficially reserved for the football players (aka: if you parked there and weren’t on the team, your tires were going to be deflated by lunch) and quickened your pace.  

“You seriously don’t have anything better to do than fake an insurance claim against a sophomore?”

Veronica’s voice was the first one that you could make out clearly as you pushed your way through the spectators.  A knot tightened in your stomach as you finally broke into the center of the crowd and spotted her, Betty, and Cherly at a standoff with five douchebags in letterman jackets.  You glanced around the sea of unfamiliar faces, hoping to spot Archie or hell, even Jughead.  

Nope.  You were the only reinforcement so far.

“Look, the little freak clearly came whipping into the parking lot way too fast and smashed into me and I have a few witnesses here that will back me up.”

“As if.  You literally almost ran Jughead and me over the other morning,” Betty pipes up.  

“And for someone always flexing Daddy’s money, you’d think you’d be able to afford to get a little scratch fixed.  Actually, I bet your Daddy would just love to hear all about this and all about that time two summers ago when you-”

“Shut the fuck up, you bitch.”

The Lead Douchebag lunged forward, a sudden surge of anger and panic replacing the smug features that had painted his face before Cheryl began her remark.  Whatever happened two summers ago was clearly something he intended to take to his grave, and she had struck a nerve in the same way that watching him rush her like that struck a nerve with you.

“Oh!”

The crowd reacted to your swift punch with one unified sound of surprise and teenage exhilaration, but the ringing in your ears drowned out any further responses over the next few minutes.  Five against one wasn’t a fair match by a long shot and you took quite a few blows, but the football players didn’t have the form or the stamina that you had.  So, when you landed a solid hit to the face or a kick to the leg, it gave you enough time to move on to the next opponent. 

The scene soon descended into chaos, with more students arriving to add to the jeering, screaming sea of onlookers desperately trying to record every second of action on their phones.  Eventually, Archie and Jughead were among them and turned it into a 3v5 before a few administrators caught wind and rushed outside to break things up.

---------------------------------------------------------

“My mom is gonna be so pissed.”

Cheryl’s head tilted to the side, expression soft and filled with subtle adoration as you pressed an icepack to your cheek and slumped against the back of the bench outside of the principal’s office.  Apart from your face, your left side and your knuckles are really the only things that hurt much right now.

“No she won’t; Principal Honey isn’t even calling home and we aren’t in trouble.”

“Yeah, but this will bruise,” you said, shifting the ice, “and I’m not great at lying to her.”

“God, your healthy relationship with your mother is constantly both surprising and refreshing.”  The redhead reached over to squeeze your leg and you looked away, a little bashful at how she always teased you over the difference in parenting styles your mothers had utilized.  “But is it really that big of a deal?  Surely she has to be used to this kind of thing by now.”

“Not exactly.  I’ve never actually been in a fight outside of, you know, the scheduled ones...” you admitted, once again feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment.  Cheryl looked surprised and like she didn’t fully believe your statement.

“Never?  And here I thought you spent your days before Riverdale saving many a damsel in distress.”

“Nope.”

“Well today you saved three, since I’m deciding to count Betty and Veronica as my fellow damsels.  And to say thank you, we’re treating you to dinner at Pop’s and then drinks and a little performance in the speakeasy.”

You arched an eyebrow, then grimaced at the flash of pain in your face.  

“Performance?”

“Just something we’re throwing together,” Cheryl winked mischeviously and just like that, any lingering concerns about your mother’s reaction to this disappeared.

[smartguy18]

Seeing those OC profiles for the Dakota Island on @prof-peach blog, I’ll jump in the scene as well ✌️

 Meet Zakaria!

·         Hailed from Southeast Asia, this 23-year-old person always wanted to do something that is beyond his comfort zone. As soon as he saw an ad about being a volunteer on the Dakota Island, he immediately signed himself up and departed to the island three days later.

·         Upon arrival, he was greeted by the professor herself. But she didn’t actually have a specific job to offer just yet, but Grey heard this commotion and offered the job to him instead, asking him to help him out at the workshop. Peach actually cool with it as Grey may need extra hand.

·         Today, he is an “Aspiring Assistant” (gave himself the title, much to Grey’s disapproval), helping on various day-to-day task, handyman work, repairing things, you get the idea… Critical thinker, hard worker, analyst and also able to work under pressure. Sometimes he’ll find a way to laze around, often lost in thoughts… Oh, and he is not a morning person either, Grey actually disapprove this as he usually wakes very early to restock the feeders for Pokemon and he really need his help to finish it faster.

·         He currently have three Pokémon that he brought along, Zaid the Dewott, Atam the Umbreon and Malik the Emolga.

·         Zaid has been his starter Pokémon since he’s started out as a trainer years ago. Decided to not evolve further for ‘personal reason’, he’s quite sensitive to that topic… (only Zakaria knows the exact reason) Other than that, he’s a loving Pokémon, always help Zakaria on all occasions and good with younglings. A bit of show off due to his nature, sometimes carried away if left unattended 😆

·         Atam was his pet for quite sometime as an Eevee, then evolved into an Umbreon while exploring during his trainer’s days. He’s a fine gentleman, always calm and gentle, but rubbing his belly is a big no-no. He chooses on who is acceptable to pet him. If yes, he’ll start nuzzles on you. Prof. Peach have a hard time to earn her own “petting license” from him, but he’ll warmed up to her, eventually… Great scouter, useful for detect any dangers, alert to sounds and very, very.. uhhh, ‘clown-ish’ for a Dark type Pokémon. Have feline instinct and character, also purrs loudly 😆

·         Malik was an unofficial Pokémon, mainly because he’s attracted to bird feeder that Zakaria’s built a year ago. After seeing this squirrel kept emptying the feeder, he changed the location and added some securities. But alas, somehow figured it out how to fish out the treats. Decided to keep him afterwards… A bit of oddball, extremely cheeky😆, very smart and affectionate to others (if food is offered afterwards…) Malik often hang out at Zakaria’s shoulder, sometimes at Grey’s head, thinking that it is a cosy ‘nest’. Self-proclaimed ‘Speedster’ claimed to be the fastest Emolga alive (yeah right XD). Always assists Atam when scouting the area, when he spots a potential danger, he’d warn Atam first before head back to Zakaria.

·         Grey actually glad that he have extra pair of hands as he can concentrate on other harder task. He usually gave mundane or daily task to him while he handle the rest. Their biggest achievement is when they both built an automatic watering system for Pokémon and the crops using the windmill as a generator. Took 6 months to complete and they were proud of it

 So that’s it for my OC for the Dakota Island volunteers. I hope you’ll like it!

[batboyblog]

Also also;

My ideal YJ Lineup:

Robin - Tim Drake

Superboy ‘Red’ - Conner Kent (90s version, Jon is Superboy ‘Blue’)

Impulse - Bart Allen

Wonder Girl - Cassie Sandsmark

Artemis Crock - Tigress (Based on the YJ Animated version)

Megan Morse - Miss Martian

Their trainers would be Red Tornado and Wally West as the Flash.

One part timer would be Jackson Hyde/Kaldura’hm aka Aqualad

So philosophically I feel like Superhero teams need like a core membership, people who are on every version of the team, you can leave off one of the core or have them leave for a bit, but if you're missing more then one its not really that team any more. Then you have a cast of regulars people who you know work and you can pick a few of them. And then you have new people, people who haven't been on the team before and you can see how that works

For me Tim, Kon, Bart, and Cassie make up the core of the team, if any of them are missing it just doesn't work

from there for me, personally, I'd say Secret, Blue Beetle, Red Devil, Bunker, and Aqualad(Jackson), I'd also like to find a space for Kid Flash (Wallace West) and I'd like to have Static as like an unofficial member? like they run into him a lot and team up but he's like "I don't do teams.... but I can still come over for pizza right?"

Likewise I'd like Slobo as not a member of the team but like a hanger on, he lives in their HQ and takes care of their super bike and whatever, maybe one comic a villain tries to break in and he bends them into knots because he's still super strong and he just doesn't tell any one about it.

I'd like Red Tornado as their den mother, he lives in their HQ and makes sure everyone does their homework and calls their parents and stuff. And I'd say Starfire is like their trainer, teaches them how to fight as a team etc

[solivagusdraco]

From the Depths of a Lab: Boundaries Between Nonhumanity and Creativity through the Journey of a Potential Silvally 'kin

I'm a dragon.

That's a fact I've known for over a decade at this point. It was pure chance that I ever even learned of otherkin - somewhere along the line, one of my best friends mentioned being a therian, and so I asked what that was. If I ever had any doubts about my draconity just being something developed because I heard this new fascinating thing… the fact that I still feel my wings and get sense memories when I search for them, even after this long, would eliminate those… we'll call them worries. Perhaps a poor choice of words, but it's what fits in my experience - I'm firmly in the spiritual otherkin camp.

And perhaps that, and my continued journey to understand psychological 'kin, is part of the "problem" that spurred this essay.

Again, perhaps a poor choice in words.

This isn't some discussion about facets of the community, or debate on origins. My experiences aren't another's, just as theirs aren't mine. This is an essay on personal exploration, and the adventure of trying to confirm or deny a kintype whilst sifting through muddy water, years after I've last done any serious introspection on such topics. But if you're still interested in the personal ramblings of this dragon, then I welcome you and will pull up a nice rock for you to sit on. All I ask is patience, for words are hard for me. Talking about myself is even harder.

I awakened as a Dragon in 2010. I found a hearttype in Painted Dogs in 2014. Both of which were… simple.

I found my dragon in meditation and introspection, finding memories of both sense and the more traditional kind. The senses persisted, and still persist. Perhaps one day I'll wake and realize I'm not a dragon, but that doesn't change what I am now, nor how I feel. I am a dragon, and I found that through soul searching.

I found a home in painted dogs during a chance trip to the zoo. They had just recently finished a new exhibit for those fancy canines, and for some reason I just felt so excited to go see these creatures I'd never heard of before that moment. And then I saw them and while I didn't feel like looking in the mirror… It felt like looking through a photo album. I'm not them, yet still they're so familiar.

But this isn't an essay about dragons or canines. Or perhaps it's an essay about them both, just in a different, chimeric form.

Pokémon has always been a part of my life. As of writing this, I'm 27 and the franchise is 25 - the only part of my life without Pokémon are years I don't even remember. I learned the TCG, my first video games ever were Gold and Silver, I had plush and played pretend with my friends. I had favorites… but I never made a character. Not a trainer, not a Pokémon. Rather, it was literal decades before I made a proper Pokémon OC.

Sev the Silvally was made out of a desire to try and run a Pokémon ask blog as a means to improve my art skills through regular practice. I don't even remember the thought process that made me choose a Silvally over any of the other hundreds of Pokémon - I just knew that I'd started drawing and suddenly I had a crime against Arceus with a broken RKS Drive. Granted, Type: Null and Silvally had been my favorite Pokémon of that generation, and my inspiration for the blog was a Type: Null blog.

Later on, Sev would become something of a comfort and coping character for me.

I had been abused by someone I considered one of my best friends in high school, and while I had since recognized it as abuse by the time of Sev's creation… It still bothered me. So I decided to have Sev's escape from the Aether Paradise be that he was stolen by an abusive trainer, and his evolution happened when that trainer turned her abusive hand to a Rockruff pup - an evolution not through love for his trainer, but rather through a desire to protect. Sev escaped his abuse and got the chance to learn how to live without the shadow of his trainer looming over him, just like I hoped to do. Escape that shadow. Let Sev be my guide through the nightmares and hate scrolling that still persisted.

He stopped being just a character.

But what does this all have to do with otherkin?

As I mentioned, Pokémon has been a part of my life for effectively my whole life. Yet despite that… There's never been a Pokémon that gripped me with the intensity that Silvally has. I've hungrily looked for merch, official and unofficial. I'm in the midst of making a fursuit, complete with electronics. One of my Tumblr usernames is multi-attack, and oftentimes now when making an account on a website, the first thing I check is if 'Silvally' is taken as a username. The design I painted on my mailbox is of my dragon and Sev, in a sort of "coat of arms" reminiscent style. This chimeric Pokémon latched on to some part of my mind and refused to let go.

And yet it wasn't until this past year that I even considered that Silvally could be something other than a "mere" favorite character.

Perhaps it's a hearttype. Perhaps it's a kintype. Perhaps it is just a mere favorite character. Introspection is the answer, regardless. My way to find just what Silvally is to me. But then there comes another question. Another problem.

With my dragon, the hunt for memories was clear cut. I had no existing thoughts to sway the hunt, and what memories I eventually found… They had little comparisons to various dragon media I'd consumed. But I start this investigation with Silvally at a disadvantage - I've made a character with crafted backstory, and consumed what little canon information exists on the species. There's no blank slate for me to start from - whatever search I do will always be colored by Sev and his tale.

So then I have to ask myself:

Is Sev his own character, or is he me?

I've never had a character that I was able to just write. Perhaps it's akin to soulbonding, but what I've read on that experience just doesn't quite taste right for the circumstance. I'll create a path for my characters, a baseline for their personality to grow on… but all too frequently, they end up bucking those guidelines and becoming their own person, as it were. They don't keep me company in my mind, but they still make their own minds clear should I try to direct their story or actions in ways they don't agree with.

Where does one find the boundary between self and other, when those "others" make their own decisions yet aren't their own entities?

To say nothing of my tendency to dole out my flaws and traits to each of my characters. Each little facet of myself being the seed from which a character will grow. Sometimes as the simple fact that the familiar makes creation easier. Sometimes as a means to work through a problem. But regardless of reason, it doesn't change the fact that almost every character I've ever made has had some piece of me in their core.

But… When every character you make is a facet of yourself, the moment you consider that they might be more than just a character gets muddy. Is it a hearttype, born from a facet of yourself that your subconscious decided you needed to care for more? Or is that facet just a part of you that recognized what you were, long before your consciousness connected the dots? And if kintype it is, then how do you determine what memories are real? Were the plot points and character biology you designed mere fabrication of the mind? Or were they flashes of another life, fleshed out, recorded, and/or adapted in the name of writing?

As if the discovery and determination of memories wasn't already complicated enough.

Sev's name was the only decision I consciously made whilst creating him - shortened from 'severance', as his creation was for the partial purpose of finally separating myself from old memories. Everything else just… happened. There was no rhyme or reason or choice to anything. Not his color, not the reason he and the other Silvally of his world were created. Every plot point, every musing on his biology was a simple moment of "Oh, so that's how it happened".

In what way is that different from how I found my dragon, with her quiet nights of meditation and introspection until the memories and feelings fell into place?

Now don't misunderstand - this isn't me saying that discovering a kintype is nothing more than making a character. That couldn't be farther from what I'm saying! Rather, I'm musing on the question of where the boundary is between the creative process and the discovery process. If Sev (or just Silvally in general) isn't a kintype, then it's still fascinating to me that his creation was so similar to me discovering my dragon. And if he is a kintype? Then is that particular creative process something to be mindful of when contemplating "original character" kintypes?

Perhaps this question would be easier to find an "answer" to if I knew what Silvally was to me… but I don't! That's almost the point of this essay - a vague attempt to knock some solid feeling thought loose from my mind.

It just happened to lead to a fascinating line of thought.

[honeyandhondewberries]

A fic idea for u.... Leon’s got a bit of a wee crush on you, a trainer at Wyndon stadium. One night he uses the group showers at the gym, only for YOU to also be there even tho it’s late. And he’s a dumb himbo and trying not to ogle you and show u how embarrassed and tense he is as you full on get naked and shower with him and try to talk to him all casually . Hoo hoo!

oohoooo steamy yes our good friend tension. Some Spice in the midst of the Sugar. This lil fic isn’t explicit (& still follows my Rules of no NSFW), but i’ll give it an unofficial T+ rating since the imagery is more vivid than some may be comfortable with. If you don’t like reading about non-explicit bein nekked/suggestive themes/or being the focus of some champion fantasies, don’t read past the line :)

Part 2: A Few Degrees Hotter

~~

Steam (LeonxReader)

You.

Wet. Dripping. Panting.

Your eyes, your smile, your body.

Here with him.

What if you were? 

He could trail his hands down your body, press you against the shower tiles, corner you between the wall and the translucent partition, then he could kiss and nip and suck everything about you. 

All the while wet, dripping, panting.

What if you whispered his name? 

What if he kissed you, soft and slow, what if you trembled at his touch? What if he could feel your lips, pressed against his, between his, feel your breath on his skin. He could start at your lips, then trail down. He could drag his lips down your neck, your throat, your collarbone, bare like that. What if you raised your hands over his shoulders, what if he trailed his fingers down your sides? What if he made you shiver, even with the hot water of the showerhead running over you?

Leon slams his knee into a bench, then jolts himself out of his fantasy with a hiss.

Immediately his face flares red with shame at how easily those lewd thoughts of you took over his mind. In a place as public as the public Wyndon Stadium showers… That was not a good risk to take. He tosses his gym bag onto the bench, then his hat, and he runs his fingers through his hair in frustration. He takes a quick glance around.

There’s no one here, and it’s so after hours that even the cleaning crew has gone home.

…It’s late. And he’s alone. Maybe he could just…

No. No. Not in a public shower, at his job no less, what if someone came in?

He thought he was getting better at this, of shoving away those thoughts of you. 

And you didn’t even know. 

It took a lot for him crush on someone, and yet you waltzed right in like it was your job to make him a stuttering mess. And how you would tease him. No one else had the gall besides his close friends, and yet, you seemed to get away with it every time. Leon was usually quick with banter himself, but the second he met you, you immediately one-upped him, then one-thousand-upped him, and successfully ran him over with your wit and your charm.

Leon sighed, peeled off his sweaty shirt that clung to his body and flung it onto the bench. Maybe a shower would help clear his mind, though his mind seemed awfully fond of the idea of showering with you.

Alright, maybe he could think about Pokemon or something, consider tactics for his training match tomorrow.

You were training earlier.

You had that fire in your eyes, that wild and unabashed smile, that passion that oozed from every pore. He vividly remembers how your chest rose with each breath, how your pupils dilated with adrenaline, how you rushed up to him after your battle to immediately get his advice. Leon shakes his head to the present again.

Stop stop stop stop Leon, think about something else. Breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth.

Yeesh.

He doesn’t even talk with you that often, maybe a couple times a week when your schedules align at the gym. He always makes a beeline right to you, only to make it there and realize he has nothing to say. You always say something though, something clever, and he usually laughs and usually thinks of something in return (never as quickly as he would want, though). He always hovers on the edge of caution in his words, though, so he’s sure you don’t know about his little crush on you.

Leon gathers his towel, soap, and shampoo, and heads to the showerhead at the end. Normally he has his private shower and dressing room, but that exhibition match with Raihan left it in dire need of maintenance (along with a few other rooms in Wyndon Stadium), so here he was, using the public ones. It’s late enough, though, so hopefully no one comes in. His staff isn’t starstruck like most fans, but the last thing he wants is an awkward conversation in the gym showers so late at night. 

Leon grimaces when he steps into the shower stall. It’s not even a stall, but rather a group shower with flimsy, translucent partitions between showerheads. The partition barely goes up to his shoulders, and only down to his knees. He wonders who he can talk to about the sheer lack of privacy these things provide - really it’s almost a joke, like a smug wink to whoever gets to be on the other side. He reaches his hand over it, waves, and can easily count all of his fingers, though they’re blurry. 

He doesn’t give the partitions much thought beyond that, as the shower knob creaks when he turns the water on. It splutters, then runs over him in a steady stream, trailing down his face, neck, chest, all the while collecting the bits of sweat, grime, and dirt from his intense training. Leon lets the water run over him for a few minutes as the steam swirls in his lungs, cleansing him from the inside out. He vaguely wonders what you’re up to at this hour. Probably sleeping.

There’s a rustle, the clang of a locker, and Leon groans inwardly. This is exactly what he didn’t want to happen: forced small talk while being butt-naked. Bathroom etiquette suggests that he doesn’t even make eye-contact, so hopefully whoever just came in follows those unspoken rules too.

“Hey, Leon!”

Leon’s eyes snap open and his blood goes cold.

Oh.

Oh no.

Please.

“Training late tonight too, huh?”

Dear Arceus, please, let this be a dream. Or maybe he’s dead, that’d be even better.

The seconds tick by, but the rustling of clothes doesn’t stop. When he accepts that those sounds aren’t in his imagination, he slowly turns his head.

And his stomach drops, because there you are, sweating, smiling, shining, and you give him a wave.

“I didn’t think anyone else would be in here,” you say. Leon forces a smile.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. He coughs, then clears his throat. “Yeah me either.”

And then, you ask exactly what he wishes you wouldn't ask.

“Mind if I join you?” you ask with a good-natured smile.

Flashes of his fantasies erupt in his brain.

You, asking that same question.

You, biting your lip seductively.

You, trailing your fingers up his stomach.

You, looking him in the eyes with your own hooded and hungry gaze.

Leon lets out a squeak.

“S-sure,” he says as he clears his throat to ensure his voice sounds much manlier than squeaking. “Group showers, couldn’t deny that even if I wanted to.”

“Would you want to?” you tease.

Leon swallows another squeak, and instead lets out a breathy laugh. There you go again, with your relentless teasing. How is he supposed to answer? Yes? No? Maybe? What would be charming and make him look like not a huge pervert? He’s faltering in a response, but you don’t seem to mind. The second he finds one, he looks back over to you, only to choke on his spit.

You’ve already pulled off your pants and folded them on the bench and are in the process of pulling your shirt up over your head. Leon’s eyes zigzag over your frame, unconsciously drinking in every inch of you as quickly as he can. Heat pools deep in his stomach, because you look just like he fantasized you would.

This is getting dangerous. 

You finally pull your head out from your shirt and toss it on top of your pants. Leon whips his head back to the shower wall, and squeezes his eyes closed as if to squeeze out that image of you. It’s already ingrained behind his eyelids though, properly stored in his brain so he can access it too easily. 

He hears more rustle of cloth, but he doesn’t dare look over again. You’re probably wearing nothing, your skin is probably glowing in the soft yellow light of the mirror lamps, and Leon suddenly wishes he had turned on all the lights when he came in instead of just the moody dim ones. Your bare feet pat against the tiled floor, and Leon holds his breath.

Please stay at the other end.

You pass the end showerhead.

Please stay at the showerhead second to the end.

You pass the showerhead second to the end.

Please stay in the third to the end.

You pass the third to the end, and Leon’s heart is beating in his ears the closer you step.

He squeezes his eyes closed again, though his fantasies push into his mind.

You, stepping in behind him.

You, curving your hands around his hips.

You, pressing yourself against his back.

You, kissing his neck, his shoulders, down his spine.

Leon lets out a shaky breath.

“You okay?” you ask, and he nearly jumps out of his skin. Your voice is close, much too close, and Leon dares to peek as to which shower stall you picked.

Really, he shouldn’t be surprised when he sees you’ve picked the one right next to his.

“Yeah,” Leon says. “Just had a long day of training.”

“Same,” you say as you turn on your own shower. You seem to notice his tension as you set your toiletries on the ground. “Don’t take it personally that I’m right next to you, this is the best shower. The temperature and the water pressure is perfect. If you were in this one I’d probably kick you out.”

Leon lets out another breathy laugh.

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want that,” he says as he looks everywhere that isn’t you. 

“Or I’d ask to share,” you say with a lighthearted chuckle.

Leon’s heart pounds.

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want that either,” Leon says. His voice is too quiet to be teasing, and in his periphery he sees you furrow your brow.

“I’m wounded,” you say. “I think I’d make a great shower partner. I’d get all the spots on your back that you can’t reach.”

“I can reach all the spots,” Leon says stupidly, even though he can’t.

You switch subjects and start talking about your training, and Leon tries his best to listen. He needs to get his shampoo, but it’s sitting on the floor. Could he just… lean down and grab it? Would that be weird? But then he’d be nose to nose with that translucent partition, and effectively, nose to nose with your blurry and bare figure. He closes his eyes, pats around the ground, finds his shampoo, and stands straight again.

“Oh, can I borrow some of that?” you ask. “I left my shampoo in my other bag.”

Leon turns before he can think when you hold your hand out. He gets a glimpse of your smile, of your hair, wet and dripping, of your cheeks flushed from the steam. 

What if your face was flushed from something else?

He slaps that thought away, squeezes some shampoo into your open palm, and turns back to the wall.

Does he even need to shower? Maybe he could just dry off and shower at home and not risk you finding out about his crush in an embarrassing and non-gentlemanly way. He needs to calm down, because the heat that’s pooling in his stomach is getting needier and needier as seconds pass.

“Leon?” you say, and Leon jolts into focus again.

“Huh?” he grunts. “Sorry, what? I was… spacing out.”

“Yeah I can tell,” you say. “I asked why you’re in here and not in your own shower.”

“Oh, mine’s getting fixed,” Leon answers, and when you close your eyes as the water gently hits your face, Leon can’t stop himself from peeking.

There’s your frame, bare and blurry, behind the translucent partition. What if he stepped around it? Or better yet, what if it wasn’t there? What if he could step to you, press his thumbs into your hips, pull you into his chest?

He shakes his head into focus again. Yep, he can shower at his house, maybe take care of this tension at his house too. Leon rinses the shampoo out, rinses himself off, collects his things, ties his towel around his hips, and walks past you as quickly as he can, forcing his eyes forward the entire time. He barely makes it to his bag before he hears your voice again.

“Leon?” you ask. 

It’s quiet, much softer than what’s normal for you. He glances to you, brow furrowed at the hesitation in your voice. He can only see above your shoulders and below your knees, and you're backed far enough away from the partition so he can only catch the foggy color of your skin.

“Do you not like me?” you ask. “Did I do something to upset you?”

“What?” Leon breathes. “What makes you say that?”

The only sound is the echo of the water hitting the tiles beneath you when you bite your lip.

“Whenever I talk to you, you barely respond,” you confess. “And I just… I feel like you’re really uncomfortable around me. I want to know what I did so I can properly apologize.”

What you did? How about who you are? Charming and captivating and attractive, always knowing what to say to get him to blush.

“You didn’t do anything, promise,” Leon says quickly. “It’s me. I’m always awkward when I’ve got feelings for someone.”

Your eyebrows raise, and so do his.

Oh.

Oh no.

Because there is that sly smirk, slowly inching onto your face.

“Feelings?” you repeat smugly, and you step forward and rest your chin on your fist and your elbow on the partition. “Little ol’ me? What kind of feelings?”

“W-well,” Leon stutters. “Y’know, like, platonically. A-as a friend, co-worker, u-um, a comrade.”

“Hm,” you hum, and you take a step towards the partition. Your figure is a little less fuzzy the closer you step. Dangerously less fuzzy. “Platonically?”

“Yep,” Leon squeaks as his eyes flick to yours, then to your blurry outline. You catch his slip when he stares for a second, and he meets your eyes, and abruptly turns. “I-I’m going to shower at my house.”

“Why?” you ask. “You don’t want to shower with me?”

His eyes widen again when he realizes what he revealed to you. His face is flaring red.

“The… the water is cold here,” he stutters. Leon steps around the shower wall to pull on his pants and pull on his shirt out of view of you and your blurry figure. He gets tangled, thanks to his damp skin, and he can hear your laugh echo in the room.

“I told you this one is perfect,” you say. “There’s plenty of room for you too.”

“A-and I need to feed my… my oven, since I left it on,” Leon blurts as he collects his things as fast as he can. “See you tomorrow!”

“It’s a date!” you call, and your words echo around in the showers, then down the hall as Leon rushes out.

Your words follow him, and that image of you and those fantasies stay unfortunately prominent in his mind, even when he gets home.

Especially when he gets home.