#he’s finally free from the hamburger

[onejellyfishplease]

Part 10

(Prev) (First)

Well done Raph, you saved Leo from getting bit again

No thoughts behind those eyes, only violence.

Also, please appreciate Mikey’s face in the fist panel, I think he’s the cutest thing I’ve ever drawn <3

(Next)

[erosmutt]

　⯌　𝘽𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙞𝙧𝙡　⨟　𝗝. 𝗞𝗲𝗹𝗹𝘆, 𝗦. 𝗠𝗼𝗻𝗿𝗼𝗲, 𝗦. 𝗕𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿

〣 ﹒▨﹕CONTENT WARNINGS﹒foursome, incestuous activities, free use undertones, objectification, somnophilia, double penetration, degrading, face slapping, pussy eating, bukakke, large age gap (James is 46, Scott is 21, Sam is 20, reader is 19).

┄﹒WORD COUNT﹒⤹ 4,152

BNUUY'S NOTES┆Finally, the long awaited fic! Part of the "Partnered Up!" series, which is a series of fics where all the characters are paired up and are with reader. The first installment is this one! Titled after a Red Hot Chili Peppers song. Originally, I was going to title it after a Rob Zombie song, but here we are! I'm so excited to share this with all of you. Eat well my loves!

≻ㅤ﹒ㅤlet's have a coffee together!ㅤ﹒ㅤノ

"You're welcome over anytime y'wanna be, sweetiepie."

You snap out of your daydream, lifting your gaze. In front of you stood your best friends' dad, James, a spatula in his hand. The kitchen was filled with the scent of seasoned beef, the familiar sizzle in the cast iron skillet on the stove a comforting sound. Your eyes rake over his broad shoulders, his waist, and down to the curve of his ass in his dark blue boxers. His jeans rest low on his hips, barely held up by his butt. Man, he really needed to invest in a belt.

Right as you open your mouth to respond, the sound of heavy boots hitting the creaky floorboards accompanies the sizzle of the patties James was flipping. "Hey dad, hey babes." One of James' two sons, Scott Kelly, greets the two of you as he sits a hefty 30-count case of beer on the kitchen table. His brother, Sam Kelly, was scrolling through his phone as he nodded to you. "What’s up?"

Scott's hand slams down onto the top of the large case of beer. "Found a new flavor. Peach Busch." He grins triumphantly, while Sam snickers, shoving his phone into his pocket and sitting down in a chair next to you. "A girly drink." He sticks his tongue out at his brother, making the blond sneer. "Go fuck yourself." He mutters, tearing the flimsy cardstock handle to reach a can.

James kills the heat on the stove then tosses the spatula down onto the counter. "Watch your fuckin' mouths, alright? Jesus," he shakes his head, gathering the condiments - barbecue sauce, ketchup, mustard, mayo, and an assortment of other burger toppings - then he sets them down onto the counter. "Now sit down and hush so we can eat."

Sam licks his lips as he gets up, grabbing a few paper plates off the top of the microwave. "Huh," he hands everyone a plate, then plops down in the creaky kitchen chair, making it scrape against the dirty linoleum floor. The four of you join hands and a quick prayer later, you all take in the assortment he cooked. "So," his father begins, cracking open a beer. "How's it been goin' babygirl?"

You look up at him, in the middle of squirting ketchup onto your hamburger. "Uh, what does that entail?" You ask with a lopsided grin. Scott shrugs. "The usual, you know? Like, I dunno, any boyfriends or somethin'?" His baby blues flick up to glance at you before focusing back on his dinner. "You coulda made the fries last, Jesus." Sam mutters from next to you before taking a massive bite of his burger, brows furrowed as he hums in satisfaction.

After chatting, hot beers, and dinner, the four of you were piled on the couch, watching whatever movie you caught on TV. James had his socked feet kicked up on the busted up coffee table, his arm around you, the stench of cheap cologne and potent motor oil clinging to his skin and clothes. His hand caresses your shoulder, fiddling with your sleeve, squeezing, tracing shapes. Your eyelids flutter closed, feeling heavy. James looks down at you. "Sleepy, babygirl?" He pulls you closer up into his side. "Snuggle up buttercup." He chuckles, ruffling your hair affectionately as he removes his arm from around your shoulders to put it around your waist, large hand resting on your stomach.

As the movie goes on, Sam and Scott end up on the floor, playing UNO, oblivious to their father and best friend up on the couch. James' hand slips up your shirt, rubbing over your soft tummy, over your womb. His dark gaze falls on you, eyes half-lidding as he rubs over your warm skin, your stomach distended with all the dinner you ate. "Sheesh..." He whispers to himself, teeth gently digging into his bottom lip. 

He'd be absolutely lying to himself if he tried to say he didn't have dreams about you full and round with his baby. Disgusting, he knows. He's pushing 50 years old, his knees creak when he gets up after sitting awhile, he has to be in bed before 10pm or he'll get pissy - he has zero business wanting to knock up his young sons' barely legal best friend. You kept him young, kept him on his toes, kept him wanting to keep up with the times. He'd do nearly anything to get just a glimpse of your teenage pussy. Oh, he could already imagine how tight, how warm, how wet, how -

"Dad!" Scott's grating voice snaps James back to reality. He looks down at his son. "What?" He hisses, rubbing his hand over his dark stubble. Sam turns around and looks up at his dad, then at you, then back at his dad. "Wanna play cards with us?" He asks, waving the cards as if tempting James. You stir out of your half-asleep state, then you smile, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. "Mmm, UNO?" You move away from James, standing up. You turn to look at him and hold your hands out, giggling as he lets out a heavy sigh, taking your hands and rocking back and forth before using you to get up off the couch with a groan that makes your stomach coil. "To the kitchen. I ain't gettin' down on that damn floor." James says, making his way to the kitchen. You follow as Sam and Scott gather up the cards.

"James?" Your voice calls, your hand resting on the door frame of James' bedroom. He groans, opening his eyes to look at the digital clock on his nightstand - 2:52AM. He turns his head to look at you and waves you into the bedroom. "Mm, what's wrong dollface?" He sits up, rubbing his hands over his face. You make your way over and sit down, a pout on your lips. "I can't sleep. Sam and Scotty are up playing games." You go quiet. James listens, and the resounding sound of his sons’ joint bitching at the TV reaches his ears. He rolls his eyes and licks his dry lips. "C'mon, you can lie with me." He pats the mattress. You climb into his warm bed, and once the two of you are settled in, the only sounds that grace you are your breathing, the muffled voices of the boys in the living room, and the rhythmic clicking of his rickety ceiling fan above the bed.

"Usually you're out like a light." James comments. "Well, 'least you used to be able to sleep through anything. Guess that changes when you ain't a kiddo no more." He says, a warm hand rubbing your arm to soothe you to sleep as he did when you were little on nights you would sleep over, when you would come crying to him about a nightmare. Even now, all these years later, it was incredibly endearing to him. The way you suckle around nothing and end up sleeping on your stomach. That wouldn't do if you were pregnant, though.

Throughout the night, James found himself unable to sleep. He had a raging boner, his cock aching, boxers nearly sopping with pre from all the leaking his tip had been doing. You had your cheek pressed against his shoulder, your arm draped over his doughy middle. He stares down at you in the dark, the moonlight streaming through the dusty blinds helping him see your parted lips as they catch the pallid glimmer.

James brings his hand up and rubs his thumb over your bottom lip and the corner of your mouth, collecting the drool that accumulated during your peaceful slumber. He brings his thumb to his mouth and sucks the drool off it, his eyes fluttering closed and nearly rolling back in perverted satisfaction. Removing his thumb with a gentle 'pop,' James rests his hand on your side, beginning to rub up and down, up to the side of your chest then down to your hip. "Christ," he whispers, digging his fingers into your flesh with a gentle squeeze. He finds his way into the side of your camisole, calloused hand rubbing over your breast and soft nipple, thumb caressing the bud.

He was at a really horrid angle, his joints beginning to ache already, but he deemed it worth the pain to be able to grope you in your sleep. James' other hand goes down to his crotch, slipping into his boxers and grabbing at his velvety shaft. After hearing noise he stopped for a second, then went on, rubbing his thumb over his damp tip, assuming the boys were packing it in for the night.

"Dad?" Sam's voice calls, and right as James snatches his hand out of his boxers, the bedroom light flickers on. He stares at his sons, his hand still around your soft, fatty breast. Sam's lips part as if to comment, and Scott just stares at the print of James' hand through your thin navy blue camisole. Oh, he was fucked.

“Um, are we interrupting something?” Scott finally comments, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants. “We came to see whose bed she wanted to take, or if she wanted to stay in the living room. For fucks sake…” He sneers, and his brother watches, fiddling with his labret as he watches his dad slowly retract his hand from your top.

Sam's big blue eyes travel down to your now exposed stomach, blinking silently. "Hey hey, calm down," James coos, pushing himself up into a sitting position, unintentionally making you stir awake. His cock strains against his soft boxers, tip threatening to peek out from underneath the fabric scrunched around his thigh. "She can stay in whichever one'aya's bed she wants. No need to fuss." He says, and you lift your head to look at the twins, returning Sam's slow, cat-like blink. "Huh?"

With a disgusted scoff, Scott turns on his heel, his hand resting on the wood of the doorway as he readies himself to leave. "I can't believe this." He mutters, walking out and down the hallway. Sam took a moment before making a move to leave, though, but he soon followed his brother, disappearing down the hallway.

Left in a tense silence, neither you nor James commented. Just sat, oddly content, until he spoke. "I know you might think this is gross," he begins. "But... do you mind helpin' me out, babygirl?" He asks, and the two of you make eye contact, his gaze pleading while yours was surprised. "James," you murmur, your hand finding his hairy thigh. "I can try."

You make your way between his thighs, your hands resting on either side of his penis. “Can you show me what to do? I’ve never seen a guy’s thing in real life before.” You admit, examining his cock curiously. When you wrap your hand around it, a bit harshly, James hisses. “Gentle, dollface, gentle.”

“Here, slow. Slowly. Up and down. Yeah, just like that.” He watches, a smile coming across his face. “You got the hang of it already.” So, you began to stroke him, getting a feel for it, taking in the warmth, the scent, the texture, the way his shaft twitched in your grasp. You watch as his hands fist the sheets beneath him, his nostrils flaring as he nears what would be his first orgasm of the night. With a shudder, James comes undone, warm semen spurting onto your hand. “Oh.”

“You’re a natural,” James pants, his hand coming up to brush some wispy hairs away from your face. “Good job sweets. My boys are missin’ out.” He grins lazily, then falls back onto his pillow with a sigh.

You get up and adjust your top. “I should get to bed.” You make your way over to the bedroom door, and as soon as you open it, Scott and Sam stumble in sideways. Those little creeps, they had their ears up against the door, listening in. You yelp in surprise, and step back from the door. “What the hell is wrong with you two?!”

Scott’s eyes go from your face, to your cleavage, then over to his dad’s exposed cock, then back up at your face. “No fucking way his jizz is on your hand right now.” Sam chimes in, glaring at your hand with contempt. Overcome with embarrassment, you look down at your sock-clad feet, eyes tracing the checkerboard patterned fabric. “Are you listening to me?”

You and Scott were so preoccupied that neither of you noticed James come up behind you, hand coming to rest on your shoulder, his dick still out of the confines of his boxers. “It ain’t somethin’ to be ‘shamed of, you know.” He reassures, caressing your shoulder as he looks between his twin sons. “I never got to give y’all the talk, did I? Maybe now’s a good time, yeah?”

Scott was a bit more enthusiastic than you anticipated. Sam, on the other hand, seemed more hesitant. Though judging by the tent in his shorts, he was far from unaffected. With a deep breath, you settle down onto the bed, the boys on either side of you. James stands in front of you three, his cock noticeably hardening. “What the fuck,” Scott whispers to himself, meanwhile Sam was shifting around, trying to relieve the friction in his bottoms.

James begins pacing, starting his impromptu sex ed lesson. “It’s not a weird thing to talk about. Sex is how we all got here. ‘S a natural thing.” He reaches down and tucks himself back in, thankfully. “It’s not just a way to make life, but to pleasure yourself, too. Everyone likes it.” Their father turns and looks between his sons, then his eyes settle on Sam. “Especially you,” he points. “You think I don’t hear you?” He then looks at Scott. “You? Don’t even get me started on the shit I hear you watching.” The blond raises an eyebrow, parting his lips to bitch back when James goes on. “Both’a’ya think she and I are disgusting for doing shit like this when really, we not. You just ain’t mature enough to get it through your heads that you two not the only ones that think with their dick.”

Sam looked especially uncomfortable now, doing his damndest to not make eye contact with any of the others in the room. “Then give us a hands-on lesson if you give so much of a shit.” Scott quips, making everyone look at him. Realizing his mistake, he widens his eyes. “Wait! I’m fucking with you, I’m fucking with you, I’m fucking with you!” He rambles, making you snicker, until Sam finally chimed in. “Can we?” He asks. The other three of you turn to look at Sam, his cheeks reddening a deeper shade.

“Fine then,” James says, making his way to the bed. “Lay down sweetpea.” He urges you, gently pushing your shoulder, a silent instruction for  you to lay back. “Usin’ you for some edjumacation, just relax dollface.” He smiles, and you make a noise of confusion as he runs his hand over your stomach. “Watch boys,” he instructs, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your shorts. He tugs them down, your thighs jiggling as your hips plop back down onto the bed. 

You can’t help but feel embarrassed, you were being put on display for a less than ideal anatomy lesson, and the two boys you’d called your best friends since you could remember were staring at you like they could just devour you. The room fills with the nervous laughter of the two others as your body unfolds before them, eager to learn the intricacies that make you so unique. Your stomach was revealed first, followed by your thighs. As Scott giggles, you flush, feeling a sudden heat fill your face.

With your underwear the only thing keeping your intimate parts hidden, James gives a shit-eating grin to his audience, who tap their feet and shuffle in anticipation. James then hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and gives a swift tug down, revealing your fat, squishy mound and puffy pussy lips, soft and inviting. The sight of your hidden treasure causes the boys’ eyes to widen, taking in every detail of your body.

Your cheeks flame with mortification, an uncomfortable mix of embarrassment and arousal. The twins sat gazing at your exposed body, their eyes raking it in all its glory. You shudder, goosebumps forming on your skin as you sense their unabashed curiosity and lust. Pleased with his handiwork, James steps back, hands resting on his hips. “Go on, you two always were hands-on learners anyways.”

Scott, on your left, reaches out and touches your breast, his palm cupping the mound, eliciting a soft moan from your lips. You were overwhelmed with humiliation and pleasure, which was only amplified when you felt someone between your thighs. When you lifted your head to look down, you saw Sam on his knees before you, lips inches away from your pussy. “There you go, touch on ‘er.” James encourages the boys before taking a seat on the bed to your right, his large hand coming to rest on your stomach. “You’re such a trooper babygirl.”

You felt heat coursing through your veins, and you were unsure whether to be disgusted by the incestuous display or to just continue going with it. The feeling of being stripped of your dignity and autonomous power left you in a state of confusion, but your stomach coiled with a twisted thrill that came with the degradation. “Eat ‘er out, Sammy.” Scott tells his brother, sitting up straight. He swings one leg over your body and straddles your chest, then pulls his sweatpants down enough to remove his cock comfortably. His musky shaft bounces free before hitting you in the face. “Open your mouth- open it,”

You open your mouth willingly, the tip of Scott’s cock gliding past your lips and into the warm sanctuary of your mouth. Your tongue traces the underside of his shaft, sending tremors through his body. James watches in satisfaction as his sons take turns pleasuring you. Scott’s rough, unskilled hands gripping your head to guide his cock into your mouth contrast with Sam’s gentle, teasing tongue that flicks at your clit. As you begin to get into it, the twins sense it, their eagerness increasing tenfold. The blond bottoms out, balls against your chin as he groans, barely able to hold himself up, his thighs tensing. “Fucking- oh my- oh fuck,” he hisses, fully intent on keeping the two of you that way until James had to guide him back out. “Off.”

When Scott and Sam move out of the way, James settles between your legs and with a firm grip, finds your hips and snatches you to the very edge of the bed, his lips meeting yours for a slow, deep kiss. He groans softly against your lips, cock resting on your mound, the taste of peach beer like honey on his tongue.

James breaks the kiss and looks up at his sons. “Fuckin’ hell, Sam, play with ‘er tits.” The teen nods, hands finding your breasts, kneading the flesh gently. He drinks in the sight of the mounds jiggling beneath his touch, the curves and contours calling to him like a siren. “Scott, get under her.”

Scott doesn't waste a moment, his bottoms getting kicked across the room and hitting the floor, joining all the clutter and shit in his dad's room. He maneuvers underneath you, arms wrapping around your middle. “You good doll?” James asks, and you nod, hands on top of Sam's, guiding him to play with your nipples in a way that'll bring you the most pleasure. “Yeah, ‘m good,”

“Good.”

With the help of James’ hand, Scott's cock pushes into you, pulling an embarrassingly loud moan from your lips. “Oh, fuck!” You arch your back and Scott pulls you back down. “Stay,” he whispers hotly against your ear. “Stay right there.” In the heat of the moment, you didn't even notice that James was beginning to push into you as well until your poor cunt was being stretched to the brim. “James! James- ‘s so- ohhh, can't fit it,” you slur, making the man chuckle. “Yeah you can. Cunts are made for this, it's just a lil’ difficult ‘cause you're so young, babygirl.” After a bit of struggle, James penetrates you, your warm walls enveloping him. A guttural moan escapes him as he starts to grind against you, the friction from his son's cock against his paired with your wet heat almost too much for him to handle. “Atta girl, grippin’ me tight.” He smirks, drinking in the moans and cries that came from your lips.

Sam leans down and captures your lips in a soft kiss, much different from the other two on a mission to ravage your poor body. One of his hands tangles in your hair while the other is shoved down his pants, palming his shaft over his boxers. He was waiting, itching to have a go at you.

Your eyes flutter open, hazy gaze meeting James', whose eyes were sparkling with a devious triumph. “You gonna let us cum inside ya sweetiepie?” He asks, moving his hips in a rhythm that compliments Scott's. Since you were stretched so far and the friction was so great, the two of them had to find something that worked.

“Fuck, ‘m close,” Scott moans, his fingers digging into the flesh of your sides, tugging at you. The desperation in his voice is almost laughable. Sam breaks the kiss with a snicker. “Think it’s been like two minutes, dude. Pull out, let me.” Scott nods and does so, his cock glistening with your juices as he crawls out from underneath you.

With everyone out of the way, the three of them looming over you like a hungry pack of wolves, you can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. The others join in, the sound of their laughter mixing with the shuffling around. “I can’t even sit right,” you giggle, running your hands through your damp hair.

“I know. It’ll be fine babycakes. Get up.” James grins, turning you over so you were now on your tummy. “Gonna run a train through ya baby. Ready?” He lifts your hips, hands coming to rest on your ass. “Gonna take all of us, yeah?” His sweet talking distracted you from the way the teens were maneuvering your body, putting you in a position they wanted you.

James spits down onto his cock, lubing it up before he pushes the tip of it against your tight cunt. He grunts, feeling the resistance, but he’s determined. With a swift thrust, he breaches you, his cock sinking deeper with each rock of his hips, making your pussy stretch open. The boys, not to be outdone, get to work on their part. Sam guides his cock into your inviting mouth, your tongue swirling around his cockhead while your saliva bathes him. Scott groans, smacking your cheek with his own member, smearing precum onto your skin. “Fuck yeah,” he grins. “Take it like that baby, take Sam’s dick in your mouth.”

“Ghhk- hhg, kkh-” you gag on Sam’s cock, eyes shut as you struggle to breathe. Your body is a mess of pleasure, tits bouncing with every thrust, your pussy gripping James’ cock and your mouth moving up and down Sam’s. Your moans are muffled, but it only makes it all the more arousing. Sam pulls out and his dick is replaced with his brother’s, Scott’s tip hitting the back of your throat. The springs in the old, cheap mattress squeak and creak underneath the combined weight of the four of you.

Scott’s fingers tangle in your hair and grip your skull, being fed off the sounds of you choking and struggling. “Fucking take it, don’t fucking stop,” he growls, teeth gritting. “I wan’ cum on ‘er face,” Sam chimes in, getting off the bed, hand beginning to fist his cock as he waits for the other two. Following suit, James pulls out and so does Scott, the pair pulling you down onto the floor.

You cough, attempting to catch your breath before they get their hands on you again. You steady yourself with your hands on the dingy carpet, getting ready for the facial. “Fuck babygirl, close your eyes and stick that tongue out.” James commands, watching as you oblige. “Oh shit, keep it right there,” Scott pants, and you let out a surprised squeal as your face is covered in sticky sperm. You give an open-mouthed giggle and slowly open your eyes, keeping your tongue out.

It frosted your nose and cheeks and tongue, and your lashes were matted as you looked up at the three of them, meeting their satisfied expressions. Hopefully there would be a second class for James’ anatomy course.

ılıl﹕𖥻 . @addictedtohobi , @102hannah , @emmaloo21 , @vixxensvoid , @ilovekmchenzie ﹒📧

ılıl﹕𖥻 . @laylaplease , @brooklynb8by , @geekforhorror , @gallerygourmet , @anakinsbbgirl ﹒📧

ılıl﹕𖥻 . @literally-izzy , @anakinstwinklebunny , @jadegmfu , @bimbo-baggins17 , @thesassypadawan ﹒📧

ılıl﹕𖥻 . @t03soup , @trippyhippywitch , @valloos , @demieyesore , @piastricentric ﹒📧

ılıl﹕𖥻 . @s1aywalker , @s1ck-skv1l , @catnipaddictt , @gabsskkk , @slutforfinnickodair﹒📧

ılıl﹕𖥻 . @realscott , @jediavengers , @enchant5d , @zapernz , @starlmbed﹒📧

ılıl﹕𖥻 . @offthethirlwall , @tfmerc , @dazednstars141 , @anisluvrgirl , @stepdadjameskelly﹒📧

ılıl﹕𖥻 . @cocobear18 , @poutypisces , @mugwump327 , @espinathena-17 , @fallout-girl219﹒📧

ılıl﹕𖥻 . @necromancerrrs , @decaffeinatedunicorn , @speaknow-sw , @lunarnightt﹒📧

ılıl﹕𖥻 .  @jyinnc , @haydenslittlegirl ﹒📧

[sometimesanalice]

Hey, Sailor

Summary: It’s Fleet Week and Rooster would rather be anywhere else than on the flight deck of the USS Portland. That is, until a pretty thing in a sundress catches his eye and then suddenly his day is looking up. 

Pairing: Bradley”Rooster” Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 5.8K

Warnings: Flirty Banter, Smut, and Bradley Bradshaw in Summer Whites (Minors DNI)

Note: When @roosterforme​ asks you to write her a Fleet Week fic, you write the Fleet Week fic! Here you go, Em!  💛

Normally, Rooster loved Fleet Week.

He loved the lively atmosphere and the parades. He loved the free drinks that were handed to him as soon as he entered a bar. And he especially loved all the attention he got from women when he wore his Summer Whites.

He usually came back to the ship looking less than pristine with lipstick on the collar of his uniform and hidden on other places on his body.

The USS Portland was teaming with excited families and camera-happy civilians taking in the sights from deck of the transport ship as they settled in for the five-hour journey to the San Diego. It was a Fleet Week tradition to welcome people aboard for an immersive experience, picking them up from a port further up North and then cruising along the coast before making their final docking for the week.

There were grills set up on the deck and the smell of flame kissed hamburgers and hotdogs mixed with the sea salt air. The sun was shining and the mood was light.

But this year, Rooster simply could not be bothered to give a fuck.

Especially not when he could have been home already instead of being stuck giving tours on a ship that he’d never even stepped foot on prior to three days ago when he and Hangman had been given orders to join in the procession on the vessel into the city after completing a short training deployment.

His superiors had okay-ed the terrible suggestion from some random Public Relations Specialist who clearly didn’t realize that he had better things to do with his time.

Early that morning, Bradley had stood on the dock with his arms crossed and wearing an impassive scowl as they had lifted his Super Hornet onto the flight deck like it was some kind of decorative hood ornament.

Sure, it was fun to watch the kids’ eyes get wide with excitement as they ooh-ed and ahh-ed over the features as he pointed them out, but he was getting hot and uncomfortable in his uniform in the mid-afternoon sun on the black tarmac.

He’d rather be in his service khakis like Seresin. Or better yet, naked at home in his own bed.

How Hangman had weaseled himself onto barbecue duty with a beer in his hand, Rooster would never know. The bastard probably played his Texan sir, I came out of the womb grilling shtick.

And every time he passed by the son of a bitch would give him a cocky salute with his tongs.

Jake was irritating on the best day, but today he was downright insufferable.

And he knew it had everything to do with the fact that Hangman’s girlfriend was laughing and lingering at his side, having surprised him by flying in with tickets for the coastal cruise.

At least someone was having a nice time, because it sure as shit wasn’t him.

Rooster was in the process of wrapping up his fourth tour of the day and handing out a couple of Dixie Cup hats to kids on the landing deck on the stern when he was stopped dead in his tracks and had to do a double take because he eyes were definitely playing tricks on him.

You were the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

And he swore for a minute time slowed down as you flashed the most gorgeous smile at some Junior Officer as you laughed along with whatever undoubtedly stupid joke he’d told you. All while the wind played with the ends of your hair.

You looked like such nice girl, such a good girl in your pretty light blue sundress.

The sun was bouncing off your shoulders and the little ruffle at the hem was taunting him with the way it danced around your thighs. It coasted over your curves like water, and fit you just snug enough that there wouldn’t be any Marilyn Monroe moments on deck, much to his disappointment. But the blow was cushioned by the stunning display of your smooth, shapely legs.

From the way your breasts bounced as you walked, he knew there was no way in hell you had a bra on under that little dress.

He’s never been able to resist a bad girl wrapped up like the girl-next-door.

From the second he saw you, he knew you were just his type.

And for the first time that day Bradley is grateful to be wearing the crisp, pressed Summer Whites. 

He knew how good his biceps looked in the short sleeves of his uniform. And the way his pants clung to his legs and ass. He’d been spending a lot of his free time in the gym lately and it showed.

He never did mind playing An Officer and a Gentleman when the occasion presented itself, he was always happy to help fuel some fantasies.  

The last time he had worn this uniform out during Fleet Week he ended up going home with an absolute smokeshow, so hopefully whatever appeal his uniform had for him back then can still work for him now.

Fleet Week was finally looking up for him.

However, what he didn’t like was the fact that the butterbar was still dominating your attention.

He wanted that smile turned on him. Wanted to see if the look in your bright eyes would be just as playful with your gaze pinned on him instead. He wanted to be the one making you laugh.

It’s not like he’s going to go over there and lick your face like a kid might try and claim dibs on a cupcake.

No, he was going to act in accordance to his rank and station as an Officer in the United States Navy.

Securing the white cap on his head from where it’s been tucked under his arm at every opportunity he’s had that day, he straightens up to his full height and purposefully struts over to you.

Bradley’s never been one to shy away from making an entrance.

He forcefully taps the younger officer’s shoulder, and glances down when the guy turns around to get a look at his name tag.

“Ensign Hubbard, you’re up for civilian tour duties. The next one is due to start at 1400,” he looks down at his watch for dramatic effect, “Which is in about 10 minutes on the starboard bow, so you best get going if you don’t want to be late, junior.”

He might feel a little guilty for springing this on the kid if it wasn’t entirely within his right to assign him the nonexistent task 684 feet in the opposite direction- a fact he learned in preparation for giving tours all day- and away from you.

Especially when he sees how flustered the guy gets as he rushes through his salute and the stammered apologies he gives you before he takes off in a brisk jog heading towards the other side of the ship.

He stands up a bit taller and makes himself a bit broader as your eyes sweep over him. 

“Apologies for interrupting, ma’am. But I’d be happy to pick up where the Ensign has left off.”

There’s no missing the appraising interest in them as you take him in.

“The tours are starting at the front of the ship now, are they?” you muse out loud with a little tilt of your head. “What are all those folks over there are lining up for then, I wonder?”

You point deliberately to the group of people who are currently being greeted by the Lieutenant who was scheduled to relieve Rooster of tour duties for the next hour.

“Mm, that sure is a mystery. But Hubbard seems like a smart kid, I wouldn’t worry too much about him.” He shrugs with an unapologetic smirk on his face.

You lift a pointed eyebrow at him.

“So, you sent him away…” the almost-but-not-quite question trailing in the breeze.

“I sent him away,” he readily agrees with a nod. His eyes catch on a golden heart-shaped locket that you’re wearing around that dainty neck as it glints in the sunlight.

A smug smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you notice where his eyes have dropped too, “You’re not even going to deny it, Sailor?”

“Nope,” he says with a grin. “And actually, it’s Lieutenant Commander.”

“Ok, Lieutenant.”

“Commander.”

You hmm contemplatively like his rank was somehow up for debate, toying with that damn little heart-shaped locket in a way that was tempting his eyes to drift further down.

Rooster didn’t think it could be possible, but you’re even prettier up close. He knew you’d be stunning, but he couldn’t have prepared himself for the way your mischievous eyes sparkled magnetically. Or for the warmth spreading in his chest with the way you are broadly smiling at him now.

The top buttons of your dress are undone one more than would be strictly considered family friendly. But Bradley wasn’t bothered by that in the least.

 Clearing his throat, he notes, “It’s a nice day for a sail.”

“Ensign Hubbard and I already covered that rather riveting subject earlier,” you tease while looking at him like well, what else have you got.

“Let me try again then.” If you wanted him to put in the work, he was more than up for the challenge. “What brings you for a casual five-hour cruise down the coast on one of the Pacific Fleet’s finest?”

“Now that’s not something we got to before he was telling me about what his ribbons meant in great detail,” you say with a laugh. “Would you believe me if I said I had a deep appreciation for $1.6 billion-dollar ships purchased with Uncle Sam’s defense budget?”

He gives you a half smile as he pretends to contemplate it for a moment, “You know, for some reason, I can’t say that I would.”

“Well, shucks,” you say with an over exaggerated shrug. “What about if I said I was roped into waking up at an ungodly hour to catch a flight up here because my best friend’s boyfriend is a Naval aviator and she wanted me to keep her company for the ‘casual five-hour cruise’, as you called it.”

“Now that I believe,” he drawled. “So, what’s his name?”

“Well, she calls him Jacob. He has one of those silly callsigns too, but I always forget it,” you scrunch your nose adorably as you search for it, “Something-man.”

“You mean Bagman?”

“Yeah, that sounds right.”

He smirks to himself. 

“I take it you know him then?” You wait for his nod before looking up at him from under your lashes and asking him, “Does that mean you have a callsign too?”

“Yes, ma’am. It’s Rooster.”

He doesn’t miss the way you glance down, and he definitely doesn’t hold back his pointed smirk waiting for your eyes to meet his again.

And when he gives you a cocky raise of his eyebrow, all you do is shrug.

You didn’t just look like his type, you are exactly his type.

“Rooster Bradshaw, huh?” you ask, reaching out to tap a finger on rectangular name tag on his chest. “I take it you have a first name, Lieutenant Commander?”

“Sure do,” he drawls, “But it only seems fair that I get yours in return.”

You grin knowingly at him. His cheek ticks up as you stick your hand out towards him and give him your name. It’s pretty and suits you perfectly.

Bradley says it out loud savoring the syllables in his mouth as he shakes your outstretched hand. And he gives you his in exchange.

He likes how much smaller your hand looks in his.

“Since it seems like your friend has ditched you, what do you say about getting a tour? Not to brag, but I’ve been doing it all day and I’ve got it down to a science now.”

“A private tour? Lucky me,” you purr. “Lead the way Lieutenant Commander Bradley Rooster Bradshaw.”

You knew what you were doing, he’d give you that. And he was eating it up with a spoon ready to ask for second, third, and fourth helpings. 

It’s less busy on the flight deck, as people are collecting around the grills waiting for their turn in the buffet lines for the late lunch.

He starts off by showing you his aircraft, giving you a brief rundown of its features.

You run a hand over the body of his fighter jet as he wraps up his now well-practiced spiel, “Do I even want to know how much taxpayer money contributed to this?”

“It depends. Does your appreciation for Uncle Sam’s defense collection extend to F/A-18s too? Or is that strictly reserved for amphibious transport vessels?”

“I’ll keep you posted after I get the full tour,” you say coyly.

“Well then, I shouldn’t keep a lady waiting then. Should I?”

“No, you certainly should not,” you agree.

He guides you past the table that’s set up with squadron memorabilia for people to buy and to the door with a hand on your low back. He’s close enough to smell your perfume now, he wants to bury his nose in your neck to inhale the scent directly from the source.

Rooster navigates the two of you like a pro through the narrow passageways as he takes you to the mess hall where coffee and pre-sliced cakes awaited tour guests. From there he takes you to the galley, the wheelhouse, the engine control room, the 24-bed hospital ward, and the massive hull used to transport heavy machinery.

You as him thoughtful questions every now and then. And he does his best to answer them.  The two of you drift closer and closer, it doesn’t escape his notice the way you brush against him when you pass by to get a closer look at some of the things he shows you.

It’s easily his favorite tour of the day. 

He loves the sound of your laugh as he tells you about some of the mischief that he and members of his squadron managed to avoid getting caught doing.

Along with some of the things that they did get caught doing.

Your teasing grin and witty banter and little sundress have done a number on him. And he isn’t ready to wrap this up by delivering you back on deck until the absolute last minute he has to resume his official tour duties again.

So when he circles back to the airwing, instead of turning left when he should, he leads you to the ladder that would take you down a level.

And he knows he shouldn’t, that he could get in some big trouble for showing you areas that weren’t explicitly on the official list of tour stops. But he’s always been more of the apologize later type.

Plus, he hasn’t been on this ship for very long, it’s not his fault if he manages to get conveniently turned around.

Bradley waits at the bottom of the steep ladder, actively looking anywhere else but up as you make your descent. When you’re at level with him, he helps you down the rest of the way with a steadying hand at your waist.

And when you turn around he doesn’t step back. 

You reach up and run a playful finger along the brim of his cap, “So what’s a girl got to do to get a turn wearing the hat?”

His mind flashes with images of the last time he’d let a woman wear it.

“I’ll have you know this is technically Naval property, they don’t let just anyone have one. You usually have to earn it. But for you?” he pauses and gives you a heated once over, “I’ll let you try it on for free.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want any special treatment,” you say demurely. “But I think in this case, Uncle Sam would understand. I’m a model citizen after all.”

He takes the cap off of his head and gingerly sets it on yours, “You’re something else, that’s for sure.” 

It slides forward down your head, “Oh, it’s heavier than it looks.” And Rooster wishes he had his phone on him to get a picture for himself. He likes the way you look wearing his things.

“Looks good on you,” he hums, letting his finger brush against that little locket around your neck.

You run a bold hand down his chest, “Where to next, Lieutenant?”

This time he doesn’t bother to correct you, he knows the game you’re playing now. 

Instead he grips your hips and pushes you against the ladder and brings his mouth to yours.You make a noise of surprise before your arms are wrapping around his neck to pull him in closer. 

The kiss starts out light and teasing. Your lips are so soft beneath his. He gently grazes his teeth against your lower lip, before gliding his tongue along the seam of your mouth seeking entrance. The sweep of your tongue against his is everything. The soft moans escaping you are making his pulse thrum in his veins. 

It would be so easy for him to get lost in the feeling of your perfect body against his and of the way your fingers were playing with the short hairs on the nape of his neck. But he’s already pushing the limits bringing you down here, he can’t get distracted by kissing you out in the open where anyone could stumble upon the two of you.

The small whimper that you make when he pulls away makes him grin. As does the sight of his cap sitting crookedly on your head. 

He thumbs at the lipstick that’s smudged at the side of your mouth, “C’mon, I’ve got one more place I want to show you.”

This time he takes your hand as he guides you down the gray passageway and through the door on the left.

The ready room on the USS Portland is much smaller than the one’s he is familiar with from the aircraft carriers he is usually on, but the set-up is mostly the same. There are a couple of projection screens adhered on the bulkheads and there are a few rows of leather seats with a swivel tray tables attached to the arm rests.

“Tell me what happens in here.” You ask him so genuinely, so sweetly and he already knows he wouldn’t stand a chance against you with the way you flutter those eyelashes at him.

So he tells you. 

He likes that you want to know these details about his job, he likes that he gets to share this with you. Even if the clock is ticking down before he has to get back on deck.

Rooster watches the tantalizing way your sundress dances around your thighs as you walk around the space. You take a seat in one of the chairs in the front row and pull the desk top over you before turning to him with a beaming smile with his cap still perched on your head.

And he is hit with a wave of affection for you so intense that it makes it hard for him to breathe for a moment.

He’s grateful when you see something else that catches your eye, giving him a moment to get himself back under control. You’ve got him feeling like he should be on his knees for you.

In the spot where he is used to seeing a lectern, on this ship there is a glossy wooden table inlaid with the ship’s coat of arm that you standing over.

“Does every ship have their own unique crest? Do you know what the symbols are for?”

He really needs to figure out who put him on tour duty and send them an Edible Arrangement or something. And maybe one for whoever put together the ten-page packet of “fun facts” that he had rolled his eyes at when he had first seen it.

“Yes, ma’am, I sure do.” He comes up to stand behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder as his arms cage you in against the table. “Yes, all ships come with their own. It’s something that the prospective commanding officers are responsible for designing when new ships are about to be launched.”

You lean forward a bit, gazing your ass against him, “Dark blue and gold are traditional Navy colors, right?” He hums confirmation into your neck, as he runs his mustache along your soft skin. He feels more than hears your sharp inhale. “What does the gear on the anchor mean?”

He drops a kiss to your shoulder, “The cog is a symbol of manufacturing, a nod to the ship’s namesake and the city’s history for building ships in World War II.”

You grab his wrist and bring his arm across your body, he takes the hint and presses in closer into you. “And the trident?”

God, you feel so perfect in his arms. Your body is fitting against his like a dream.

“The black symbolizes determination,” he murmurs into the space where you neck and shoulder meet. “And the choice of the three prongs is because it’s the third ship to be given the name.”

You lean your head to the side, and he takes the opportunity to trail open-mouth kisses up your neck. Your nails bite into his forearm in response, as you rock back against his rapidly hardening cock. “And the rose?”

“Portland is the City of Roses.”

“Does it have any other meaning?” you ask soft and breathy.

“It represents strong ties, baby. It’s a symbol for the supportive partners and wives of those serving onboard,” he whispers low and sweet into your ear.

“Bradley,” you sigh as you turn your head towards him for a kiss. It’s desperate and wet. And he can almost taste the neediness of your moan on his tongue.

He’s never done anything like this while on duty on a ship before, and the thrill of it has his veins thrumming with adrenaline.

“You’ve had me hook, line and sinker since the damn second I saw you.” He grinds himself against your ass and you whimper at the contact. “What do you want from me? I’ll be so good to you, so good for you.”

“Want you to touch me,” you pant into his mouth, “Want you to fuck me, Rooster. It’s the only thing I’ve been able to think about.”

“Fuck me.” He can feel his pulse thundering in his throat.

“I’m trying to,” you whine.

He barks a strained laugh before he spins you around, crowds you into the table. He doesn’t waste any time getting his lips back on yours, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You meet him stroke for stroke, just like you’ve been doing since the moment he laid eyes on you.

“This fucking dress,” he groans when he cups your breast through your fabric, as you fill his palm in just the right way. You arch your chest into his hand, and he was feeling entirely too self-satisfied in the confirmation that you weren’t wearing a bra. “Knew you weren’t a good girl.”

“So why are you treating me like one?” you taunt, breathlessly. Your greedy hands go straight to his cock, squeezing him through his pants.

Your hand feels so good on him.

“God, you’re so much fucking trouble,” he rasps, throwing his head back.You lean forward and your hot mouth works against the hollow of his throat. 

He’s trying to undo some of the tiny buttons that line the front of your dress, but the teasing way your tongue is dipping out to trace the line of his tendon is making it hard for him to think.

“Are you gonna show me how you got that silly, little callsign of yours or not?” You give him one more squeeze, before bringing your hands up to the button of his white pants.

He knocks your hands out of the way before roughly grabbing your ass and hauls you firmly against him, “That feel little to you?”

Your gasp makes his fingertips dig further into your ass. The pretty color of your eyes has been completely eclipsed by your heavy, dark pupils. He can feel the way your thighs clench together.

“You want my attention? You’ve got it, baby,” he roughly rasps, “Go on then, show me how bad you can be.”

He dips his head down for a filthy, hungry kiss.

You push him back with a hand to his chest and a gleam in your eyes. You hold his heated gaze as you slowly undo his zipper and reach into his boxer briefs to pull him out. He moans when your thumb sweeps over the top of his cock.

Rooster thinks for a second that you’re going to drop to your knees for him, the mental image of you looking up at him with those doe-eyes is enough to make his jaw clench with desire. Especially with the way your sundress is gaping open at the top, giving him a clear view of the swells of your breasts.

Instead, you surprise him by bending over that glossy table and shimmying the skirt of your dress up over your luscious hips.

“Holy shit.”

You’re wearing the smallest, laciest little thong he’s ever fucking seen.

The band is a series of crisscrossed straps attached to some intricate and dainty floral lace. The juxtaposition of it against your skin is enough to make his ears ring. He’ll be dreaming of the way you’re enticingly arching your ass towards him for months.

And he’ll sure as shit never be able to be in a Ready Room again without getting a hard-on. The memory of you bent over the table before him will forever be ingrained in his brain.

“Is this bad enough for you, Lieutenant Commander?” You shoot him a grin over your shoulder as you wiggle your hips invitingly.

That sultry smile is swiped from your face the moment his large hand connects with your perfect ass. The sound echoes throughout the small room. He palms you once more before he yanks down your barely-there thong.

“Gonna fuck that attitude right out of you.”

Giving himself a few rough pumps, he lines himself up and slides into you with one steady thrust.

You both release an unrestrained groan of the sensation of him filling your warm, wet cunt. He barely gives you a moment to adjust to the size of him before he starts moving.

“’s big,” you sigh shakily.

“Tell me how much you like this cock.”

He slaps your pert ass again when you release a breathy whimper instead of answering him.

“Feels good, Rooster.” Your hands are struggling to find a way to support yourself as he fucks into you. “You feel so good.”

He pushes your dress higher up your body, his eyes are greedy for more of your skin. What he wouldn’t give to have you entirely naked and spread out before him. He wants to see all of you, he wants to hear you loud and needy for him.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he murmurs as he watches himself smoothly gliding in and out of you.

The little noises you are making are driving him crazy. He knows you’re trying to muffle your sweet moans and sighs and whines. The sound of your bodies coming together fills the room.

How his cap is still perched on your head he doesn’t know, it jostles every time your bodies come together.

“I need more,” you beg, “Need you to touch me.”

“Ask me nicely.” He punctuates the demand with a sharp snap of his hips.

“Please, Bradley. Please.”

He slides his hand around to the front of you, his fingers drawn to your clit like a magnet. You keen at the contact and tilt your hips into his hand. The sound is music to his ears, “That’s more like it.” 

He doesn’t think there’s anything else better on the planet than being buried in your perfect pussy. You’re so wet for him. He already knows he’s going to need more of this, more of you.

“You’re taking me so well,” Bradley grunts as he speeds up his thrusts, “Looks like all you needed was a nice, thick cock. Just a sweet thing now, aren’t you?”

“Oh my god,” you gasp as you writhe against him. “F-fuck.”

He is so turned on by the way his hands span across you as he grips your waist and pulls you against him with every roll of his hips. His heart is racing in his chest.

The feeling of your body tensing around him is paradise. There is nothing he wants more than to be able to draw this out, but he is all too aware of how quickly time is slipping away from him.

He sets a rough and unrelenting pace. Redoubling his efforts on your clit, his indulgent strokes turn into tight, purposeful circles. And you cry out at the change of sensation on that sensitive part of you.

Your thighs start to tremble as his cock drags against that spot deep inside of you. The heat is pooling in his lower back as he fucks into you over and over again.

“Rooster, I’m gonna-”

“I know, baby. Let me feel it,” he murmurs hotly against your ear, his thumb rubbing back and forth across your clit. “Come on my cock like a good girl.”

The goosebumps erupt across your body like fireworks a moment before he feels you shiver and tremble beneath him as you come with a choked sob. The way you spasm and clench around him is dizzying.

Bradley is teetering on the edge, your cunt felt like heaven. Warm and wet and gripping him just right. He almost doesn’t want to give himself up to it as the pressure at the base of his spine intensified. He doesn’t want to stop fucking you.

You’re so perfect for him.

He loses himself to the feeling of your pussy milking him as you continue to pulse and writhe in the aftershocks of your orgasm. He grips your hips harder as he pounds into you before emptying himself inside of you with a shattered groan.

And for a moment all he can hear is the blood rushing in his ears as he works to catch his breath. Rooster feels like his knees might buckle as the soft whimper you make when he pulls out of you.

He gently pulls that lacy little thong back up and helps to pull your dress back down over your hips and thighs before turning you around and lifting you onto the custom table. 

He doesn’t know how he is going to make it through the rest of the journey knowing his come is collecting in your panties.

You’re flushed and looking thoroughly well-fucked as you smile up at him brightly.

Bradley threads his finger under the chain of your little gold heart-shaped locket that was etched with a rose in full bloom, and lightly tugs you in closer for a lingering kiss.

“I see you found your gift early, baby.”

Bradley would never forget the first time he saw you that night at the bar downtown last year during Fleet Week.

He had noticed you right away, it had been impossible not to. You and your girlfriends had been all done up in hot pink outfits for the Bachelorette party you were out celebrating.

Your friend had flounced right up to Jake taking the shot of whiskey out of his hand before swallowing it down then cheekily offering to buy him a replacement. Hangman had been wrapped around her finger ever since.

While your friends had all but shoved you in his direction while he had looked on entirely entertained as you had shot a scathing glare back at them. A sparkling tiara that read Bridesmaid sat crookedly on your head.

And then you had greeted him with a “Hey, Sailor” so weak that the couldn’t help but let out an amused laugh. There was a split second where he thought that he might have fucked it up before it could even start, but then you smiled back at him.

It was a charmingly self-deprecating smile and he was yours from the moment he saw it.

“Hiding it in your nightstand next to the batteries wasn’t the most original of spots, Rooster,” you affectionately tease him. “I didn’t mean to peek, but the remote stopped working. I hope you’re not mad. I love it.”

He could never be mad at you, especially not with his necklace around your neck. You were his, and he was so gone for you.

“It looks so pretty on you,” he tells you softly as his fingers brush over your collarbones.

“Oh my god, Rooster, I can’t we defiled Naval property.” You giggle as you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer to circle your arms around his neck.

“I hate to break it to you, but you’ve been defiling Naval property ever since you brought me home with you the night we met.”

You take that cap off of your head and set it back on his, and lean in to kiss him on the cheek, “Glad I’m getting a good return on my taxes then.” 

He snorts a laugh, “God, I’ve missed you, baby. What are doing here? I thought you weren’t coming until the end of the week.”

“And miss the visual and culinary offerings of the USS Portland? I wouldn’t dream of it.” You joke as you run your hands along his arms where they’re pressed on the table on either side of you. “This uniform drives me just as crazy as it did last year.”

“Just the uniform?” he asks as he nudges his nose against yours.

“Maybe it has a little something to do with the man in the uniform,” you make a little hum as you check him out. “You’re so tan, Bradley, have you been using the sunscreen I sent with you-”

He crushes his mouth to yours, you were undoubtedly best thing that’s ever happened to him during Fleet Week.

“I’m glad I still do it for you,” he murmurs against your mouth before giving you another deep kiss.

The two of you work quickly to get yourselves looking presentable again. He’s only got a little time left before he is due to return to his tour duties back on deck.

He helps you back up the ladder and takes that left turn when he’s supposed to this time. All while your hand is tucked securely in his.

When you’re both back on the open flight deck he walks you over to the railing along the edge of the ship and wraps you up in his arms to watch the coastline crawl by with his last few moments of freedom. 

“I really love Fleet Week,” you say with a contented sigh, as you lean your head back against his shoulder.

The golden rays from the sun are hitting you in a way that makes his chest warm.

“I do too, baby. It’s the best.”

Yeah, Rooster fucking loves Fleet Week.

Who doesn’t love a man in Summer Whites?! Consider this my formal petition for more Dress Whites in TG3!

Thank you for reading!

Update! If you want to learn about the night they met, I wrote these two a little prequel series you can read here!

Hey, Sailor Moodboard

A peek inside the USS Portland One | Two

If you’re curious, here is some info on the crest I found! One | Two | Three

You can check out my other stories and series here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse​ @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @itscheybaby @prettylittlelauraa @startrekfangirl2233 @marantha @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @itsizzythebell @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @boltgirl426 @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @torres-espana @uzumegui @dont-talk-me-down @fandomunite2107 @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pariahsparadise @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @nina-sj @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @misty-inferno @angellwingsss @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @mrsdaamneron @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @melllinaa @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @mandolin22 @imaginecrushes​

[sporadicthingcollection]

Kiss, Marry, Kill: Part 2/2 (LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: In which Buggy saves your bacon and you continue to lie to yourself. Pairing: LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader Rating: Explicit. Word Count: ~2.3k (of 5.3k) Warnings: Canon-typical violence, sexual fantasies, needles.

A/N: I was going to wait a few days to post this, build some anticipation, but y'all thirsty and I am a woman of the people.

---

Does Buggy feel a twinge of regret as he hauls ass out of Arlong Park? Sure, but not out of any sense of honor or decency or whatever. He just wishes he could have seen your lovely face one last time.

And he must have racked up some good karma recently, because he does indeed see your lovely face. It's curled up in a snarl as a fishman bears down upon you, but it's hot in a warrior princess kind of way.

You throw a right hook that collides with the fishman’s jaw, but no dice. He belts you right in the mouth. It lays you flat, but you take it like a champ and pop right back up.

He hates the idea of such a pretty face being marred in such an unfair fight. So he lends a hand.

Detaching said hand, he sends it floating toward the scuffle. A hard pinch on the ass throws the fishman off guard with a yelp.

You see the opening and slam him across the face once, twice, a third time. He collapses to the side. You waste no time jumping atop him, straddling his chest as you wallop his face into hamburger.

Still kinda hot.

Satisfied that he’s unconscious, you climb to your feet, resting your hands on your hips as you catch your breath. You run a hand through your hair, mussing it in a most handsome way.

Buggy saunters up behind you. Not particularly quietly, but you’re so winded you must not notice. He hovers his chin right over your shoulder. “Boo.”

You screech. Loudly. And whirl around and throw a haymaker that he only just catches with his remaining hand.

“Aw, c’mon,” he grumbles. “That any way to treat your coffee soulmate?”

You blink at him. “When’d you— How— What?”

He recalls his other hand. It reattaches with a little flourish. “Saved your life, babe. You're welcome.”

You look around, then frown. You give his chest a weak shove and stumble away. “I gotta… gotta find Usopp…!”

“Up-bup-bup. Not so fast.” He snags you by the back of the shirt and pulls you back. You whine in protest. "You owe me, Miss Sawbones.”

You scowl at him. “I didn’t ask for help.”

“No, but you got it. Which means…” He taps the tip of your nose. “You.” Tap. “Owe.” Tap. “Me.”

“Fine. Whatever. Cash it in later when I’m not in a rush.” You try to run again, and again he snatches you. “What’s your problem?!”

“My problem is that, if everything comes up Buggy, I’m never going to see you shitheels again.” He leans in close enough for his nose to bump yours. “But I don't like having unfinished business.”

Your eyes are so hot that steam might as well be coming out of your ears. “Just tell me what you want and fuck off.”

Finally, just what he wanted to hear. But what to ask for? You most certainly don't have money. And the map's a wash — even if you could get it, all your little friends would beat him black and blue. No, this has to be something that will get under your skin. Pull your pigtails a little. Hurt your pride.

Like a ray of divine inspiration, it hits him. He can't help but grin as he steps towards you. You take a step back. He matches it. Another step. Another. He backs you right into a tree.

He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, tracing his finger down your jaw to tip your chin up. He pulls out his best imitation of that damn cook. "Give us a kiss, love."

Your face screws up in disgust. You slap his hand and try to jump away, only for him to grab your arm. Swinging you back around, he pulls you flush against him, his free hand on your waist. He revels in your warmth. He missed his body so much.

He puckers his lips. “C'mon, just a little smooch. Won’t even use tongue.”

You yank your arm from his grip and stare up at him. Grabbing him by the collar, you jerk him downwards. He braces himself for a slap. Or maybe a punch. That seems more your style.

But then you yank him forwards and his lips collide with yours and every joint, every tendon, every inch of sinew in his body locks up. It's all he can do not to topple into a thousand parts and pieces.

He's in shock. He never freezes. Not in the middle of a performance, not in the middle of a fight, and certainly not in the process of sweet talking a kiss out of a pretty little thing.

And yet, here he barely stands. Probably because it’s none of those things — there's no one around, the fight's over, and you're not a pretty little thing. You're a very beautiful grown woman.

His heart flutters against his ribs like a starved hummingbird barred from a flower. He wants more. He wants everything. He wants you.

Oh, this isn't good. It's never good when he catches feelings. Especially not this quickly. Never ends well for him.

...but maybe this time...

You pull away with a pop, but your grip on his waistcoat stays strong. Your mouth remains open, and you waggle your lower jaw, running your lip along your bottom teeth. Your tongue darts out to lick your lips.

He wants to lick them too.

You let out a yip as he swings you down and dips you low, one hand on your neck and the other hooked under your leg. You gaze up at him with wide eyes, twinkling like mischievous little stars.

He dives in for the encore before he can lock up again. Somewhere, some idiot sets off fireworks.

Oh, what a kiss. It’s the kind of kiss they write songs about. The kind that breaks fairy tale curses and turns frogs into princes. The kind that lonely sailors dream of, wishing on shooting stars for someone to love. Someone to laugh with, argue with, cry with, share a treasure with, share a bunk with, share a crown with. Someone to be his and his alone.

And then he feels it. A little nudge against his lips. He pulls away in surprise. “So much for no tongue.”

Smears of red lipstick and flakes of white greasepaint coat your lips. You lick them anyways. “I never agreed to that.” You throw your arms around his neck and force your way inside his mouth.

Now it's the sort of kiss that haunts the dreams of all men. Fiery. Slick. Dexterous. You stroke his teeth and nip his lips and fill his mouth in due measure. He can barely keep up.

The images come unbidden. You, lying across his bed, eyeing him like a tigress eyes her meal. Him, ripping your shirt off to get at those delicious breasts. You, bouncing on his cock, moaning like a whore. Him, flipping you over to fuck you more efficiently. You, begging and whining as you hit your peak. Him, climaxing so hard he sees lightning. You, resting your head against his chest as you drift off to sleep. Him, pulling you closer and burying his face in your hair and whispering sweet little things that you won’t remember—

God damn, are all your kisses like this? Is this what you treat every man to? A lightning strike, a cool plunge, a searing brand, all in one? What kind of devil did you make a deal with to be so beguiling?

His head spins like a carousel as you pull away, from either shock or oxygen deprivation. Probably both.

Even more old paint covers your face. And you still don’t care. Your chest heaves and your gaze burns as you lick your chops. 

While his brain processes what just happened, his poor, stupid heart takes the wheel and shoots its shot. “Wanna come with?” he rasps.

The smolder in your eyes snuffs out and your brows scrunch. “Huh?”

“Ditch the punks. Join up with me. It'll be great."

You blink a few times, eyes darting around. “Why?”

Why? A kiss like that and you’re asking why? “Group of weirdos like us could always use haircuts.”

That marvelous sound leaves your lips. First that glorious snnnrrrk and then that clattery laughter. Your face lights up with glee, your pretty teeth on full display. “Sell me on it.”

That’s a good sign. “Your own cabin. An operating theater. More treasure than you can carry and the best barber chair it can buy.”

Your smile grows. You slip a finger below his chin as you gaze up through your eyelashes. “Sweeten the pot.”

Oh, that’s a dangerous look. His mouth starts writing checks his ego certainly won’t let him cash. “Your own act. Your name in lights. And you can kiss me like that whenever you want."

Those eyes turn downright smoky. You say in a low, low voice, "Just kiss you?"

He almost drops you. All the blood rushing to his cheeks stops dead in his arteries. Then it waterfalls all the way back down.

He jerks you upwards and presses his lips to your ear. “I’ll screw you to the wall every night and eat your cunt like a wild dog every morning. How’s that sound?”

A little hiccup of a gasp escapes you. “Sounds— Sounds good to me, Captain.”

He's ready to throw you over his shoulder like a sack of flour when something whistles through the air above him. He looks up. Pain explodes across his jaw, popping his head off and sending the rest of him sprawling.

It takes him a moment to shake the stars out of his eyes and get the blood back where it belongs. The sniper kid stands a few yards away, quaking in his boots as he loads up his slingshot. Next to him, you scramble to your feet, clutching your makeup-smeared hand.

"Nice timing," you say to Usopp. You pat his shoulder, leaving a streak of white.

“Don’t mention it.” He swallows. "What do we do about him?”

“Iunno. Either kill him or let him buzz off.” You grip your wrist. “Yeow, that hurt…”

Buggy recalls his head to his neck and gives it a good shake. How dare you? How dare you use him like that? Give him feelings only to play with them? What kind of heartless bitch are you?

He's got quite the eloquent insult prepared, but it vanishes as soon as his mouth catches up to his thoughts. “You...!”

He launches his fist at you, but the kid fires off a round from his slingshot. Buggy yelps as a dozen pinpoints of pain pierce his palm, and he recalls it back. There are, in fact, a dozen pins buried deep in his hand. Ow.

He looks up, but the kid is speeding away. You're close behind, but you do glance back. He swears he sees a glint of remorse in your dark eyes, but you're gone moments after.

Alone. Again. After getting his emotions kicked around like a naughty puppy.

Fuck this. Fuck Rubber Boy. Fuck the sniper kid.

And, most of all, fuck you.

—-

You're no good at art, but you're the only person around here with steady hands, a sterile needle, and a willingness to inflict pain. Thus, redoing Nami's tattoo falls to you.

"So how was it?" she asks.

You're so focused on tracing the design onto her arm that you almost don't respond. "Not too bad, if I do say so myself. Might have to adjust the angle."

"Not that. The other thing."

The tangerine connects to the tangerine leaf. The tangerine leaf connects to the pinwheel spoke. “Yes. Of course. The other thing.” 

“Heard you kissed the clown.”

The pinwheel spoke connects to the other spoke aaaand the pen slips from your fingers. Fortunately for you, it doesn’t screw up your careful tracing. “We’re gonna need a new sniper when I’m done keelhauling the old one.”

Nami laughs. It’s not bitter anymore, which you’re thankful for. Girl’s been through a lot. “C’mon, how was it?”

You scoff. “Sudden. Sloppy. Tasted like greasepaint and self-loathing.”

You leave out that you actually like all that. Surprise. Spit. Theatrics and desperation. What can you say? You’re a dumb bitch with a bad taste for pathetic men. You accepted this about yourself a long, long time ago.

If Nami picks up on your deception, she doesn’t let it show. “Thanks for taking one for the team, doc.”

Taking one for the team. Yeah. That’s what it was. A distraction. A diversion. You didn’t manipulate a madman’s feelings for you. He didn’t read you like a giant neon sign. Nor did you feel anything in that kiss. Not in any of them.

Certainly not the first time — that was impulse. Nor the second time — that one was thrust upon you. And the third time — brain was preoccupied with stalling for time so your cooch took over for a moment.

A moment that almost led to you abandoning your friends for a psycho, your conscience reminds you.

You shake the guilt off. “I’m not a doctor,” you mutter, “and let us never speak of this again.”

You swear she stares right into your soul. That she knows what you’ve done. But she nods. “Speak about what?”

It takes a few hours, a few curses, and a few tears, but the tattoo comes out great, if you do say so yourself.

And the entire time, you’re distracted by thoughts of a psycho with a very persuasive tongue.

---

Never had you on my mind

Now you're there all the time

Never knew what I missed until I I kissed ya

---

⬅⬅⬅ | To the "Curious Courtship" Masterpost | To the Mastahpost | Tip Jar | ➡➡➡

[elliaze]

Weightless

Parring: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Warnings: Joel and reader are neighbors, age gap (Joel is 10 years older), no!outbreak, reader has 23 years old, Sarah is here but only mention, neighbors-to-friends-to-idiots-in-love-trope?, protective!Joel, they are head over hills to each other, but Joel think he's to old for her, mostly fluff but with a little heart-break,

Summary: Joel goes to the bar when Y/N is working and then something happens.

Word Count: +2700

Divider by @cafekitsune

MASTERLIST

Y/N was twenty-three when she fell in love. 

Or had it lasted much longer? 

It was hard to tell, because Joel Miller had been in her life almost from the beginning. First, as an annoying adult neighbour. She loved to play pranks on him when she was a child. He had always threatened to tell her parents, but she knew that had never happened. Later, as she grew up, that same annoying neighbour suddenly became an exceptionally handsome neighbour. It had been a time when she had paid no attention to boys her own age, thinking they were complete idiots. It was also a time when she had gone from being an ordinary girl next door to being Sarah’s babysitter, especially when Joel and his brother couldn’t take care of the little girl. Y/N remembered how she would blush every time she passed Miller, especially when he started talking to her about something other than how his beloved daughter was doing. She thought that her crush on her older neighbour was just a result of her teenage years. She thought that would pass.

A few years later, it didn't. On top of that, everything got more complicated because she and Joel started to be friends. He didn't treat her like a child, although he could, especially since he saw her in every, even the most embarrassing, moment and witnessed her running around the yard with two pigtails and pink tights that always ended up dirty with mud. She knew that she could rely on him, sometimes much more than on her so-called friends. And she wanted it to work both ways, but sometimes she had the impression that there were moments when he looked at her through the prism of the age difference.

“Beer and a hamburger for my favourite customer,” she said cheerfully, placing a plate of food and a bottle of alcohol on the table. Taking advantage of the fact that she finally had a free moment during her shift, she took a seat opposite Joel. “Hard day?”

“Tiring, and I really don't want to go home so soon because…”

“Sarah's staying over at a friend's” she finished for him, recalling her morning conversation with the girl. “She mentioned something to me, that they'll be watching movies and eating sweets. It is quite a pleasant prospect.”

“Maybe you should follow her example and rest yourself.”Joel pointed at her and took a quick sip of his beer. “Which shift is it? Eight? Nine?”

“Ten.”

“Even better. Honey, you're too young to work yourself to death.”

“I guess it's a good thing I have the whole day off tomorrow. And I'm going to lie around and do nothing, but only after our breakfast together. Because I hope it's still relevant?”

“You ask as if you haven't dropped by our house and eaten the fridge in years.”

“Hey!” She laughed and pulled a pen out of her apron. She threw it at the man, who leaned back at the last moment and snorted with laughter. “That's called slander, Miller. Watch out, or I'll tip you twice.”

“I could even pay triple for your company.”

Joel winked at her, and she blushed at his words anyway. She tried to cover it up by fixing her hair, but she still thought he must have noticed. Whatever that meant, she must have forgotten about it, because the door to the bar opened and a drunk man entered. The smile fell from her face as she recognized him as a customer she genuinely hated. He always hit on, even harassed, all the waitresses. Normally she could handle him, but now that she saw that he was clearly drunk, she had a bad feeling.

“What's going on?” Joel asked with concern, then glanced over his shoulder at the new man who had just taken a seat a few tables away. “Who's that? Do you know him?”

“Unfortunately. He's one of our customers who... Let's just say he really likes to pick on all the girls at work. I hate him, but I have to serve him.”

“I'll be here if anything. Just let me know and…”

“Thanks, but take care of your burger. I'm not going to serve him anyway because he's drunk.”

“Just be careful, okay?”

“When I'm not,” Y/N replied teasingly and stood up from her seat.

She slowly made her way to the occupied table. When she turned around for a moment to see if Joel had listened to her, she shook her head in amusement. She could have expected that the only person he listened to was himself and did only and exclusively what he thought was right. At least that's how she preferred to explain his intense gaze on her, so as not to get her hopes up too high. 

However, getting the client turned out to be much more difficult than she thought. The initial texts and comments might have seemed funny, but when his behaviour began to become aggressive and intrusive, she began to lose patience. It wasn't the first time she had been in such a situation, so she knew how to behave. She had learned a long time ago that being a woman, she was doomed to this type of behaviour. She could endure a pat on the butt or other such gestures, but when he started calling her names and raised his hand to hit her, she completely froze in place. Not only that, but she was paralysed and if not for Joel's quick reaction, she would probably have ended up with a mangled face.

Miller pushed her back and grabbed the drunk man by the collar of his shirt. He lifted him up, and as he continued to argue and fight, Joel struck him first. It all happened so quickly that all Y/N could do was watch in shock and fear as the two men exchanged blows, chairs were overturned, and table decorations were smashed. Eventually, however, it all passed, and Joel walked over to her and grabbed her by the arms.

“Hey, talk to me,” he said calmly, as if he hadn't been in the fight just minutes before. “Y/N?”

“Everything's okay,” she assured him, and to confirm her words, she patted his shoulders. It was then that she saw how bloody and raw his hands were. “You're hurt! Oh, my God, Joel!”

“It's nothing,” he waved his hand dismissively. “Are you closing up now? You've got enough to survive for one day.” 

She just nodded.

Their trip was silent. Y/N could feel the fatigue and emotions of the last few events creeping up on her. She longed to go to bed and forget about it, especially since she was going to have to talk to her boss about what had happened when she got back from her day off. She had already informed her about it over the phone, and she was genuinely surprised because she had no complaints.

Joel parked his car in the driveway and turned off the engine. She looked at the windows in her house and saw that the light was on in her parents' room, which meant they were probably getting ready for bed. They had long since stopped waiting for her when she came back from her evening shifts, especially when Joel was the one who came to pick her up.

“Thank you for what you did.” Joel began to shake his head, as if her words were unnecessary, but she turned to him and put her hand on his shoulder. “It's true, Joel. I thought I was doing pretty well with him, but when he raised his hand to hit me, I completely panicked, and if it weren't for you, I would have…”

She didn't even want to think about what would have happened if she had been there alone.

“Any other guy would have done the same thing.”

“Maybe, but you didn't hesitate for a second. Whenever I need your help, you drop almost everything and help me. I hope you know how much that means to me.”

“If you’re trying to get me to make some tearful confessions, you’re doing a pretty good job,” he joked, and she shook her head in amusement. “Go home. Get some rest.”

“Oh no! Joel Miller, you saved me today, so let me repay you.” The man raised an eyebrow at her, and she pointed to his mangled hands. “Now it’s my turn to help you. You know I’ll treat those wounds like a professional nurse.”

“I know, because you’ve done it with Sarah so many times. Fine, but then you’re going straight home for a good night’s sleep.”

“I’m a grown woman and I can take care of myself, you know?”

“It’s hard to tell when you were running around the yard with two pigtails and pink tights just a few years ago.”

She rolled her eyes and got out of the car.

When she entered the Millers’ house, she felt at home. Sometimes she even considered this place her second home, because she spent almost as much time there as she did in her family's house. She didn't know what it had to do with it, but Joel's house had always been an oasis of warmth and love for her. She loved her parents and the fact that they provided her with everything they could, but because she was raised alone, she often felt lonely there. Here, she always knew she would find someone to talk to or watch some stupid movie. Mostly it was Sarah, whom she loved taking care of, but Tommy and Joel would show up just as often. She especially loved the moments when the four of them spent time together. To some, she might have been an outsider to the Miller family, but with them, she never felt that way. 

Y/N quickly found the things she needed and went back to the living room, where Joel was waiting for her on the couch. He was sitting sprawled with his head up, and she stopped for a moment to watch him. She had long thought he was handsome, but she had the impression that with each passing year he looked even better. She could see that he was as tired as she was, but even now she could imagine sitting on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing their lips together. Her infatuation was dangerous, and she was fully aware of it. But she wouldn't be able to break what connected her to Joel. She preferred their strange, friendly relationship to nothing.

“Don't fall asleep, old man,” she said jokingly, walking over to the couch he was sitting on. Joel straightened up, making room for her next to him.

“I'm not old enough to be called that.”

“I'll remind you when I see first grey hair.”

“Mine or yours?”

She laughed merrily and then began to bandage his hands. The only sounds in the room were quiet hisses and moans, but Y/N still had the impression that Joel could hear her loudly beating heart. She did everything she could to focus on her task as much as possible, but the man's proximity was definitely distracting for her. She suspected that it might have something to do with what had happened. Emotions still clung to her, even if she had already come to terms with it. 

But now she seemed to feel Joel's presence next to her more strongly. They had been in such situations more than once, but at this moment she was holding back with the last bit of willpower not to do something stupid.

“It's done,” she said after a short while with complete satisfaction. “I hope it heals quickly.”

“After such professional help?” 

“Professional and completely free,” she emphasised, and began to clean up all the things. She wanted to get up, but Joel grabbed her hand and stopped her in her tracks.

“Leave it and sit down. You're exhausted and you just bandaged my wounds. You don't have to clean up yet.”

“Oh, okay,” she sighed quietly. She leaned back against the couch, defeated, and felt a shiver as their shoulders touched. “Are you thinking about something specific?”

“No. What about you?”

“Nothing specific either.”

Joel snorted and looked at her with amusement. She thought she was crazy, because otherwise she couldn't understand how she leaned over Miller and placed a short kiss on his lips. She wasn't even sure if she should call it a kiss, because their lips only touched lightly before she pulled away. But those few seconds allowed her to get to know his taste, and she knew that nothing tasted as intoxicating as his lips. It wasn't her first kiss in her life, but for a moment, that's exactly how she felt.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have,” she began with flushed cheeks.

Then something happened that completely surprised her. Joel didn't answer, but grabbed her by the waist and pulled her closer. Then he connected their lips together in a longer and definitely confident kiss. Without thinking, she opened her lips wider, giving him better access and at the same time allowing him to take control of the whole situation. She felt like her ears were buzzing, and her heart wanted to jump out of her chest. The whole world had stopped, and her biggest dream was coming true.

She tangled her fingers in his hair and moaned quietly when he gently bit her lip. Joel grabbed her by the waist and sat her on his lap. Holding her hips tightly, he guided her to where he needed her the most. He growled right into her mouth, and then his hands moved up. Y/N felt a shiver run through her body as she felt his touch on her. But she wanted more and cursed everything that they were still wearing clothes at the moment. When she thought about it, her fingers almost immediately went to the buttons of his shirt. When she unbuttoned the first one, she waited a moment, because as much as she wanted this to continue, she had to be sure that he wanted it too.

Joel didn't push her away, but continued. His hands quickly found their way to her shoulders. He pulled the straps of her tank top to the side, so that the outline of her breasts and the black bra she was wearing were visible from under the material. He kissed her jaw, then her neck, and she gasped loudly as he sucked in the extremely sensitive skin by her ear. At the same time, she unbuttoned the buttons on his shirt, until she could finally feel his warm skin under her fingers. His chest rose and fell, and she traced short patterns on his torso and sides with her fingers. She ran her nails down his back and slowly moved her hips forward and back, feeling the bulge in his pants, which she was sure was starting to bother him more and more. 

“Joel,” she murmured in his ear as she felt him squeeze her breast, then slip his thumb under the material of her bra. “Please…”

She didn't know what exactly she was asking for. She wanted him to finally take off her shirt, so she could feel his touch better. She wanted to feel his hands and lips all over her. She was completely lost for him and didn't think about whether they were doing the right thing or what would happen next.

But the last thing she wanted was for Joel to pull away from her.

“We can't,” he said in a hoarse voice, resting his forehead against hers. He held her around the waist, but not as tightly as before. “We got carried away.”

“What?” she asked, not believing what she was hearing.

Miller smiled and, as if nothing had happened, sat her back down on the couch next to him.

“Go home and rest. We'll talk some other day.”

He kissed her on the cheek, then stood up and headed up the stairs to his bedroom.

She didn't quite know what was going on, and it took her a few good minutes to pull herself together and get things in order. Her ears were still ringing, she could feel his touch on her body, but she couldn't get over the fact that she had been pushed away at the most crucial moment. She clenched her fists tightly and promised herself that tomorrow they would sort it all out. She had to know if this little moment meant as much to him as it did to her.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

just a girl 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible cheating, low self-esteem, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you move in with your sister when your luck turns for the worst.

Characters: Walter Marshall, possible Andy Barber

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

"How about something to eat? You hungry?" The man startles you as he closes the gap, looming at youe shoulder. 

You face him as your eyes round and you look past him. Everyone else is absorbed in the real party, meanwhile your sidelined with an unwanted shadow. Why cant you just be invisible like you always were? 

"No thanks," you lie. 

The smell of the barbeque is making you hungry but you don't want to give this guy any invitation to hang around. You only came for Rhiannon. You don't know why this guy is even sniffing around. 

"You vegetarian or something?" He prompts as he gestures with his beer bottle. 

You shake your head, "appreciate it but I'm not hungry." 

"Well, not hungry, I'm Walter." 

You crinkle your brow and blink at him. He nods and cringes. 

"You know I heard one of the other guys make that joke... wasn't funny the first time." 

You swallow and try to laugh, letting out a rocky croak, "um..." you give your name and tuck your thumbs into your front pockets. 

"Ah, finally, got something," he gives a slanted smirk. "So, how about a hamburger?" 

You purse your lips. You said no. You don't like repeating yourself. Just like most people, he isn't listening to you. 

"I should go find my sister," you step towards him and he moves with you. 

You stutter step, thinking for a moment he means to block you in. He backs off and extends an arm towards the rest of the yard, "maybe I'll see you around the block. Place gets boring between all these barbeques..." he finishes off his bottle of beer and eyes its emptiness through the brown glass, "I could use a distraction." 

You continue past him and take long steps across the grass. Very strange. You don't know what to make of that. Distraction? 

You hear Rhiannon before you see her. Shes giggling with one of her friends.... Staci Ann, you think. You can't keep track. She has a plate of salads and a half-eaten hot dog. She looks up as you approach. 

"Hey! Oh, didn't you grab some food?" She trills. 

"Um, no, I... it's okay." 

"No, you should eat! It's so good. They have chicken burgers." 

"I... okay." 

You turn and slink away, evading the eyes of Staci Ann and the other primped housewives. You approach the picnic table and grab a bun. You add some mayo and mustard, a slice of tomato, and a pickle, then scoop up some salad beside it. You wait your turn in the line for the barbecue and ask for one of the pale chicken burgers. 

You walk away with your fare, nearly colliding with another body. You lift your chin in fright, tearing your attention from your food. You gulp at Walter as he squints and eyes you up and done. His lips twitch and he points at you with the neck of the bottle in his hand. 

"Gotcha." 

You back up out if his way and look past him guiltily. He doesn't say anything else as he stalks by and you quickly turn to look for your safe haven. Rhiannon is lost amid an even bigger cluster. You sigh and drop your shoulders. 

You sneak over to the gate. No one seems to notice as you let yourself through the wooden door and tramp out to the front. You sit on the curb and balance your plate on your crossed legs. 

You feel bad. That guy might be a stranger but he wasn't rude. And what did he mean? Gotcha? Does he think you're a bitch? Maybe you are. Some would say standoffish or shy, but you're probably just ignorant. 

You put the top bun on the burger and hang your head. No matter where you go, you just dont fit. Hopefully you can get out of Rhiannon's hair sooner than later. You'd hate to give her a bad reputation by association. 

👟

The days are a gray smear across your consciousness. You wake up, trawl the internet for postings, and hide away from the world. You have to keep at it. Something has to give. Rhiannon seems so certain that a miracle is on its way, you just know you'll probably have to settle for less than you want. 

That morning, you wake up with a crick in your neck. You yawn and sit up as a pang shoots under your shoulder blade. You turn your legs over the edge of the bed and bend over your lap, reaching to the floor as you try to stretch your lanky arms. 

You stand straight and raise your hands toward the ceiling. Your tee shirt lifts and shows your tummy as your pajama shorts feel even more scant above your long legs. You roll your neck one way then the other and let out a whimper. Big mistake. 

You lumber to the door and listen through the wood. Your room opens into the kitchen. It can be awkward when you walk out and there's someone in there. You learned to be cautious when exiting. 

You inch open the door and look around the morning din. You cross the cool tile and take the tin of coffee grounds. You fill the filter for the machine and snap it into place. For a moment, you stop to envy your sister's perfect life as the overpriced brewer starts to whir. 

You lean against the counter and bow your head, rubbing your neck. You blow out between your lips and groan, turning to rest against the corner. You let out a babble as your surprised by a figure in the far doorway. 

Your sister's husband got back the night before. You were certain to make yourself sparse and kept your headphones on later than usual. You stand straight and keep your hand against the side of your neck. 

"Morning," you utter. 

He stares at you as he slowly crosses the kitchen, coming around the other side of the square island, "morning." 

You shy away as he takes out a mug and puts it heavily in front of the machine. He snaps shut the cupboard and you put spqce between you and him. You feel the tension roiling off him. Since you got there, he's been tense and you can't blame him. You're crashing in his spare room when he should be enjoying his newlywed status. 

"Wanna put some pants on," he says as he crosses his arms. 

You gulp and look down, "I have... shorts." 

"Coulda fooled me," he sneers, "my house." 

"Sorry, I... sorry." 

You retreat and hurry back towards your room. You didn't think they were that short. You feel the back hem. They end just at the top of your thighs but don't show anything more than leg. 

You glance back at his broad shoulders as you close the door. His teeth shirt strains across his back as he presses his hands flat to the countertop. You find a pair of sweats in your bag and pull them on. 

You don't go back out right away. You hope to wait him out and listen for the machine's grind to end before opening the door. He's still there, sipping his coffee as he stands at the island, his phone on the marble top as he scrolls with a finger. 

You take out a cup of your own and fill it. He clucks and you put the put back on the burner. He sighs and glances at you from the corner of his eyes. 

"There's instant in the cupboard. It's cheaper." 

You wince, "oh, sorry, I..." 

"You know, this isn't a charity--" 

"I... I offered Rhiannon money for groceries--" 

"She's too nice to take it. We both know that. It's my house, so talk to me. You wan a contribute, I'll gladly accept." 

You stare at him sheepishly then look at the coffee, "okay." 

He huffs again, "I don't get it. How are you related to her?" 

You shrug, "I'll get out of your way soon. Promise." 

You drag your feet around the counter and he tuts, "no food in your room. I don't need ants." 

You stop short and turn back to him. You don't get him  either. You don't get what Rhiannon sees in him. 

You near the island and sip the coffee before letting the mug rest on the marble. You peer down at the dark liquid, wallowing in his roiling silence. He bends to lean on his elbows, slurping and tapping at his phone.

"You ever keep a promise?" He speaks at last and his blue eyes flick up, "just wondering."

You frown. You have no right to argue or get mad. He has every reason to doubt you. You're certain he's heard all about your mess ups.

"Well, you know," he stands and lifts his mug and swipes up his phone, "maybe you should find a man. Maybe he could put your head on straight."

He turns and struts away, leaving you to rot in his judgement. You can't even do that. You're just a burden to everyone, even your own family.

[thebrightsilverlining]

How Apollo Justice Became a Lawyer at 22: Using U.S California Law

So Apollo Justice is 22 years old in AA4. This may seem young, especially considering the fact that he doesn’t have the excuse of getting his degree in Europe like all the ridiculously young attorneys in this series do, but it’s actually not too much of a stretch. At least, not where the localization takes place. So switch out your ramen for hamburgers, it’s time to talk about U.S California law!

See, there are 3 ways to become a lawyer in the state of California.

Option 1: Bachelor’s degree. Then law school.

This option is the most common and is available in all states. You get a 4 year bachelor’s degree. Get a 3 year law degree. Take the bar. And boom! You’re a lawyer! With this option you’d be a lawyer by 25, provided you finished high school at 18 like the average individual.

Of course, this can’t be what Apollo did. Not only would it take too long, but let’s be real. He’s an orphan who aged out of the system. And 7 years of school? That’s expensive as hell. I doubt he’d even be able to afford it. But not too worry! There are still 2 more options he could choose from!

Option 2: Associate’s degree. Then law school.

See, California is a unique state. It’s one of the few states where you do not have to get a bachelor’s degree to go to law school. Why waste your time (and money) getting a bachelor’s degree when you know what you want to do with your life? Instead, you can get an associate’s degree (or complete 60 credit hours) and then apply to law school! This knocks your time in school down from 7 years to 5 years!

This, however, still can’t be what Apollo did. Even though community college would be far cheaper and much more accessible to Apollo before he went to law school, he’d still be 23 if he took this option. Which is one year too old. But never fear! For our final option manages to not only set us at the perfect age for Apollo to start AA4, but it’s also the cheapest of them all!

Option 3: Law Office Study Program (LOSP)

So you don’t want to get a bachelor’s degree OR an associate’s degree. Hell, maybe you don’t even want to go to law school! Buy you do still want to be a lawyer. Well, you’re in luck! Because, in the state of California, you don’t even have to go to law school to become a lawyer! Nope! Instead, California allows people to do a 4 year apprenticeship rather than go to law school in order to become an attorney. 

You need a sponsor (the person who will be mentoring you) who must have at least five years of good standing with the bar. They can be either a judge or an attorney and they’ll be responsible for teaching you everything you know! Sure, they’ll be reports sent to the bar regarding your progress (along with some smaller fees) and you’ll have to meet a certain number of hours per week (similar to that of a part-time job), but otherwise? They pretty much give the sponsor free reign to teach how they like!

This is the option that Apollo likely took! At least, in “California.” It’s 4 years, which sets him right at 22 years old at the start of AA4, and it’s perfect for a poor orphan aging out of the system with little money. Plus, it offers a hands-on, individualized education that you can’t get anywhere else!

This comes with the added side-effect of Apollo and Kristoph having known each other for a minimum of 4 years, as Kristoph would’ve had to have been Apollo’s sponsor/mentor. Something that makes a lot of sense considering Kristoph’s perfectionism. After all, the best way to get the perfect prodigy is to quite literally teach them everything they know, with no outside interference from things like other professors or classmates.

So there you have it! How Apollo Justice became a lawyer at 22 years old!

[whiskyanndboots]

Brutal

Summary - "Dean, I care about our relationship way too much just to be your South Dakota good time while you're in town"

Pairing - DeanxReader - Platonic!BobbyxReader

Warnings -Angst, infodump for upcoming series, tension, no editing once again

Slight continuation of SNAP

Meeting Bobby Singer had changed your life entirely, he and Rufus had saved you and two co-workers from a vampire attack after several Friday night margaritas. Your co-workers were happy to forget it had ever happened, even denied it after awhile, you however couldn't let it go. You'd researched every single thing you could about vampires, your brief encounter helped you weed out the impossible from the highly probable. 

You call it some kind of early midlife crisis, you had regularly taken time off your job to track down victims of possible vampire attacks. You are well aware how unhinged that was, you even had the crazy person map on the wall with thread attached to markers detailing all the possible vampire attacks in the area you'd been able to find, colour coded and everything. 

You decided since you weren't actively looking to interact with any vampires, just gathering information tor curiosities sake that you were safe. 

The next 4 months you were practically obsessed and while on one of your solo road trips you found a lead in Colorado that lead you to another in New York. You had stopped in the small town of Sioux Falls for the day to rest before driving more. Seeing one of the men that had saved you in the aisle of a grocery store buying beer and hamburger helper was so unexpected you almost ran into a coca cola display. 

He had ducked his head when he'd recognised you, he had rushed the cashier when you'd gone to talk to him anyway and he'd started speed walking to his car when you dumped your things and followed him out. 

Bobby Singer was not happy when you told him what you'd been doing if the "Are you out of your goddamn mind?!" was anything to go by. 

You'd told Bobby you weren't hunting, god no, you just wanted to know about this hidden world inside the one you thought you knew. You'd showed him the journal of vampire facts you'd written, which he immediately pointed out two wrong things you'd thought were correct.

He'd rubbed a hand down his face and stared for a moment. Then he asked how old you were, what you did and if you were married, children, basically everything about your life. He'd quickly realised you weren't going to be convinced into going home or letting this go so he begrudgingly told you his address. 

Right there in a Sioux Falls grocery store parking lot started your unlikely friendship.

You turned up at Bobby's the next morning and he grumpily educated you on vampires and let you have free rein of his extensive library so you'd go and leave him "the hell alone". Three weeks later, you'd quit your job and moved to Sioux Falls, you got a job at a tavern and rented a room nearby, you'd visit Bobby on weekends, sometimes even weekday afternoons. 

You'd never said you weren't impulsive or that you weren't escaping your old life. 

Around six weeks later you were living in Bobby's spare room, he'd said "Why are you wasting money on that shithole, I've got a room upstairs as along as you don't plan on annoyin' the crap outta me", you moved in and realised Singer Salvage was a mess on the business front. You'd spent your days researching monsters, trying to learn ancient languages which was as hard as it sounds, and organising Singer Salvage's inventory and sales. You'd quit your bar job when you'd started making Bobby money and he decided you were now his receptionist, both for hunters and the junk yard. It made it all more believable when you picked up and 'transferred' calls to your boss when cops called.

You'd later learn why Bobby was so willing to take you in. 

One night in late July, not long after you'd moved in, you'd both had a bit to drink and you built up the courage to finally ask Bobby about an old polaroid you'd found of himself and two young men. He'd told you about Dean and hell, how Sam's been of the grid ever since he died. Bobby had lost the two men he'd considered sons and you were filling some kind of void for him though he'd never admitted it, he wanted some companionship.

It was for the first time you really understood the sadness and loss that came with hunting, Bobby had many friends, not many close, but no family. 

The more time you spent with Bobby the soft spot you immediately had for him became ten times it's size. You learnt to cook more, he complained about the healthier things, but the guy had to watch his chloestrol. You cleaned when he was away and catlogued his never ending junk yard of parts and cars to sell. You still remembered the look on his face when you pulled out $2500 in cash you'd gotten on a day trip you'd taken to sell his stuff after he'd told you this 'junk wasn't worth that much". Problem was Bobby knew where every artififact, weapon, rare herbs and weird stuff was in his house, but he couldn't remember all the things he had buried out back amoungst the rusted out steel. 

Google had turned you into a parts expert, the only rule he had was to make sure he didn't need it and not to let any buyers here, public exchange only. 

It was an oddly simple life considering Bobby's profession. You became receptioinist for Singer Salvage by day and various FBI and Department of whatevers assistants in the shadows,he'd taught you how to answer phones while he was gone, what to say to keep the hunters out there covered and what kills what so you could help any hunter who called when he wasn't around. You were no Bobby, but you were getting better. 

Bobby had decided a beat up 1970 Chevy Chevelle was going to teach you all things cars, told you that you should know how to do things on your own, this one wasn't going so well, honestly Bobby had done most of it while you watched and admittedly zoned out for majority of it. 

The only thing Bobby wouldn't do was let you hunt. That was a hard, solid line and you did not mind in the slightest, you'd had to help on one salt and burn once when Bobby needed and that was enough. Monsters, ghosts and demons in theory were interesting, the reality of it you could miss. 

Bobby's drinking had you more worried than any supernatural creature did, you enjoyed the occasional alcoholic beverage, but the empty bottles you'd fine some mornings that weren't there when you went to bed worried you, but he would snap if you ever pushed. You were planning on a more subtle intervention.

You'd gone to a friends wedding in September and returned to absolute chaos of a resurection and an apocalypse. Bobby wanted you to pack your things and leave, you refused. You now wondered if that choice was a huge mistake. 

That was the first time you'd met Sam and Dean Winchester. 

It felt like a lifetime ago. 

It was February now and they'd missed both Christmas and New Years, you'd forced Bobby into swapping gifts on Christmas and by gifts you meant a bottle of scotch and some skincare gift pack Bobby must have grabbed at the grocery store, which strangely made you feel warm inside. 


You, Sam, Dean and Bobby were now sitting on Bobby's front porch and had been for the last few hours, just talking, it was nice considering how intense things had been for the last few months.


Sam and Dean had been through alot with the snippets Bobby had told you, despite how very much involved you were Bobby was still keeping it vague with what was going on out there. You'd heard them talking about a demon named Alistair, Lilith, Angels and Seals when you had turned on the shower and snuck out to listen to what they were talking about when they thought you couldn't hear.

Lilith. 

She hadn't come for you, it'd been months. Your rescue from her demon minions was miraculous and you'd been living on the edge ever since, Lilith had said she needed you for something, you have no idea what. 

You laughed loudly with everyone at Bobby's story about a hunt with Rufus, you were pleasantly buzzed after a few vodka limes on this particularly hot afternoon. You liked when Dean and Sam came, especially when you had moments like this, moments when you could pretend the apocalypse wasn't looming over you all. 

You stood up asking if anyone else wanted another drink with an all around yes. You said you'd get some snacks too.

Three days ago when Sam and Dean arrived was the first time you'd seen Dean since the motel room incident two months ago. Some nights you couldn't sleep thinking about that night, just rolling around unable to get comfortable or relaxed because you couldn't stop relieving the way Dean's hands felt on your skin, how his mouth felt against yours. 

Neither of you had brought it up again, just like you'd asked. 

You opened the refrigerator pulling out some cheese, dip and salami and crackers. The first time you'd made a glorified cheese platter for Bobby he'd scrunched his face up at 'this fancy crap' you'd stared at him incredulously, 'fancy? It's lazy dinner'

Now he's a cheese platter fiend, not that he'd admit it. You regularly drink beer on a Saturday afternoon eating too much cheese and breadsticks while watching football or reality TV.

"Want some help?" Dean's voice startled you, you turned around from cutting salami to see him leaning in the door way. 

"No, I'm nearly done, do you want your beer?" You asked grabbing a bottle from there fridge and holding it out towards him to quick not to be obviously nervous. 

Dean pushed off the doorway, his eyes moved down your body as he crossed the room, so brazenly, you were immediately off kilter. The tank top and denim shorts suddenly made you feel suddenly bare.

You wouldn't let him know, you wouldn't show him how much he rattled you. You were an adult for god sake, why did he make you so nervous and stupid? he never used to. 

You'd been lulled into a false sense of security, you weren't sure if it was going to be awkward when you watched the Impala roll up the driveway, but to your great relief Dean was completely normal, he was even back to his old self and wasn't treating you like you were cotton wool.

The blatant way he was checking you out caught you off guard, It had to be the alcohol you'd all consumed.


He took the bottle from your hand and you quickly turned back to the food you were getting ready, you took a swig of the vodka you'd made yourself to calm down.

You had to get a grip on yourself. 

"I'll be out soon" You said without turning around. You just had to get this ready and go back out and continue drinking, eating and laughing, no issues.

"You been doing ok, feel like we haven't talked?" Dean asked from behind, damnit he wasn't leaving.

He was right, you'd found yourself alone with him two days ago while you were making some tweaks to the Chevelle, you were about to get Bobby to check it over, you weren't an overly confident home mechanic without him yet. 

"She not running?" Dean's voice made you jump. 

"Jesus, Dean" You huffed holding your chest.

"Bit on edge there (Y/N)" He laughed "What's going on?" He peered under the hood beside you. 

"Making a weird noise, I think something is loose and vibrating on the engine, I'm pretty sure it's here" You pointed, looking at Dean for assurance.

“Can I have a look?" Dean questioned raising his eyebrows. 

"Sure" You smiled easily moving out of his way.

Dean leant under the hood and peered into your engine bay "Can you turn her on?" 

You moved to the front seat and turned the key until you heard Dean yell to stop. You jumped out and came back to stand beside him.

"Very close, looks like that one, but it's further back" He strained leaning further in and gestured "Over here" you peered over his shoulder. 

"We can get this apart and tighten it up this afternoon, won't take long" He smiled widely. 

So you did, well mostly Dean did while you watched.

"There' Dean grunted twisting the wrench into place. 

You were suddenly very distracted by Dean's arms, he was pulling on the wrench, tan skin bulging as he pulled it tighter, his grey t-shirt was straining against the size of his arm, Dean was talking and you realised you weren't listening when he raised his eyebrow. 

"Sorry, what?" Pull yourself together 

Dean repeated himself looking at you and the car to make sure you understood. He was so unaffected, ofcourse he was, Dean would've been with plenty of women on the road since you last seen him, you're such an idiot. You just needed to avoid direct eye contact and get through the next few days. 

"Should be good as new" Dean said as he finished putting everything back together "Start her up" 

You did as he said and naturally there was no more weird noise. 

'Thanks, Dean " You smiled genuinely "saved me alot of time and taught me something new"

"It's all good, I needed to get out of the house, there's only so much Sam and Bobby talkin' ancient languages and lore I can take" He wiped his hands off with a rag, once again the movement made his arms bulge, all that thick muscle not from a gym, from hunting because he was strong, you knew first hand how firm he was. 

You glanced up and see Dean looking straight at you, you felt your cheeks heat up from embarrassment and swallowed quickly moving to shut the hood of the car, Dean was still watching you with an unreadable look on his face. 

Suddenly that familiar feeling of being too close came over you, you could feel the warmth of his skin and you weren't even touching.

"Should get back inside" You said quickly.

"Yeah' He answered, his voice suddenly deeper. You looked back at him and you did not like the change in demeanour at all.

You really wish you never opened this can of worms. 

"Yeah there's been alot going on, I've been good, Bobby and i have had a couple of hunts, he wants to lay low for the most part" You answered. 

Dean leaned onto the counter beside you, his posture was relaxed, but his brow was pinched. You turned to look at him, you nervously licked your lips, Dean's eyes shot down to the movement, copying it himself. You knew if there was any shot of forgiveness with Jo, you could never ever do what you did again, you hadn't meant to the first time.

"You? Alot more going on out there than here, I'm sure" You tried to keep it light while you distracted yourself with placing cheese cubes.


"Nothing new so far, just your regular end of the world stuff" he'd answered with a tired sigh, a pained look flashed across his eyes which was gone just as quickly. 

You smiled weakly with the corner of your mouth and opened a pack of crackers. You were sure it was much more complicated.

"So tell me" He began fake casually after a short silence, your body tensed at his tone.

"You going to be weird around me all the time now?" He continued. 

"I'm not being weird" You replied quickly. 

"You're being weird right now" Dean's grin was teasing, definitely beer spearheading this conversation. He was also right, You and Dean had an easy connection that had been strained since that night in the motel. 

"I'm fine Dean, really" You answered, probably a little too reassuringly. 

"You won't even look at me anymore" 

You sighed deeply and tilted your head to meet his gaze raising your eyebrow. You had never let any man make you feel this jittery, you weren't going to start now. He's just Dean, a man.

You turned back to finish what you were doing, Dean chuckled, you could feel his eyes on you, this had to stop now.

if Dean wanted to talk then you'd talk.

"What are you doing, Dean?" You turned to face him fully trying to keep your voice casual.

"What are you doing, (Y/N)?" He countered grinning, like this was a game.


You frowned confused, you were ignoring this thing exactly like you were supposed to. Dean chuckled looking down for a second shaking his head.

"You tell me you want to forget what happened and then you keep looking at me like you want to jump my bones" He stared at you, you were making a huge bold mental note not to be alone with Dean when he's been drinking all day because apparently his already huge balls got even bigger.

"I do not" You whispered, eyes wide, looking at the door making sure no one was there "I meant what I said" you insisted.

"Why?" He asked suddenly serious. 

"Why?" You repeated incredulously 

"You want to" He stated. You could tell Dean Winchester didn't get rejected very often, you could see why too. That cocky grin, that handsome face and playfulness that you knew would show you a good time. 

"Really, cause it sounds like you're trying to convince me" You raised an eyebrow keeping your tone just as playful. He laughed sliding closer to you.

“Dean, we had a fight, that got out of control, thats all" You continued. 

"Sweetheart, I have fights with people all the time and they don't end like that, unless they started like that" Your heart was thumping in your chest, it hadn't started like that though, it really did catch you off guard. You and Jo were on shaky ground as it was, but almost back to normal after months of trying to fix what happened. 

"Look Dean we work together, we're friends, Jo is my best friend, there's a whole apocalypse, it's just messy" You finished making your snack platter intent on leaving this kitchen. 

"Jo?" He questioned, in your panic you'd slipped up. 

"Is that what this is about?" He leaned in closer towards you.

"No" You said quickly. 

"(Y/N), Jo is like a little sister to me, nothing's going on with us, nothing has even been going on" His face was full on reassurance, but you felt none of it. Your heart broke for Jo, little sister, ouch. 

You crossed your arms with a sigh and turned to face Dean, your face hard you needed a final blow. 

"You know Dean, I really didn't take you for a guy who needed to be told no twice" Even as it left your mouth your stomach was turning in knots. 

Dean's face feel and all playfulness and flirting was gone. 

"(Y/N) I didn't-" He looked so upset with himself.

"It's fine, really" you interupted "Dean, I care about our relationship way too much just to be your South Dakota good time while you're in town" You tried to make light of the situation.

"You're not just a good time" Dean looked insulted.

"Yeah, I'm a pain in the ass too, I know" You smiled trying desperately to get this conversation over.


"Right" He ran a hand over his mouth clearing his throat and looked away. A heavy silence fell over the kitchen.

You felt awful, but you were honest, you didn't want to be another notch in Dean Winchesters bed post. 

"You two good?" Bobby’s gruff voice startled the both of you. 

"Yeah" You both said unconvincingly at the same time. 

"Here, I'll take that for you" Dean grabbed the platter and his beer and disappeared through the doorway. 

"Should I be worried about that?" Bobby asked from behind you as you were gathering the beer for the rest of you from the fridge. 

"No" You scoffed, guilt still churning in your stomach.


"Dean's a good man, you know I love him like a son" Bobby continued.

"God, Bobby i'm not trying anything on Dean" You pleaded.

"Dean isn't the kind of guy for you (Y/N)" Bobby took his beer from your hand. 

You were surprised, that wasn't what you were expecting. 

"A hunter isn't the kind of man you should be going after" he clarified "It'll be nothing, but heartbreak or death at the end of that road"

"It's ok, Bobby. Don't worry, we're just friends" You patted his shoulder.

There was very little chance of Dean ever making a move on you again, so you weren't worried either.



[harlowsbby]

Can you do an angst where yn is on tour with Jack and becoming depressed from the lifestyle. Jack always wants her around but she needs space, and this upsets him.

Grass ain’t greener

“You ain’t the girl you used to be, you say you’re done, you’re moving on.” - Chris Brown.

You were slowly becoming depressed you loved traveling around the world with Jack but this lifestyle was taking its tole on you, Jack was around but he was never really around.

You needed space and your own time to be you again, this lifestyle was tearing you apart day by day and you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep up the happy act.

“Y/N over here, Jack over here smile for us!!”

“Are you two happy to be in Paris?”

“Jack!! Jack!! Are you happy to be in Paris.” The paparazzi crowed the entrance of the restaurant you were trying to get into it, Jack had a tight grip on your arm but you still felt as if you being tugged away from him.

Once inside you sighed out in relief that you were finally away from the large crowd and can be somewhat alone with Jack for a few hours, this was Jack’s thing whatever country he was in for the day or several days he’d always take you out to eat somewhere just so the two of you could have some alone time.

“Good afternoon, what can I start you two off with?” The waitress smiled at Jack and You.

“I’ll take a water for now.” Jack told her and you nodded as well agreeing with him.

“I’ll take a water as well please and thank you.” You told her she smiled and wrote it down.

“While I’m getting the waters, please feel free to look over the menu.”

“What are you thinking about getting baby?” Jack asked and looked over the menu, you looked down as well looking at all of the options until you saw the prices.

Thirty dollars for a hamburger?! What was so special about it you wondered, fifty dollars for a large pizza they had to be joking right?. These prices were ridiculous if it weren’t for Jack there was no way you’d afford to be eating here right now.

Looking over the menu you found the cheapest thing you could find which was a salad.

“I’m thinking about getting this cesar salad right here, it looks really good and I’m not really all that hungry.”

Jack looked at you puzzled you’ve been traveling all day and eating nothing but chips and fruit snacks and all you wanted was a salad?

“Baby you have to eat more than just a salad.”

“Jack it’s okay a salad will do and I’m really not all that hungry.” Lies you were honestly starving and a burger is all you wanted right now but you weren’t letting Jack pay thirty dollars for a burger that price wasn’t readable at many means.

“You aren’t eating a salad Y/N.” Jack was growing annoyed you’ve been eating nothing but junk all day and a salad wasn’t going to cut it with him.

“Jack I told you a salad is fine just drop it will you.” Jack wasn’t sure what was going on with you but lately you just haven’t been yourself he knew something was off but he wasn’t sure what.

Jack was about to say something back but the waitress came over just in time.

“Are you two ready to order!” She smiled and took out her pen and notebook waiting for your orders.

“I’ll have the steak with potatoes.” You went to say your order but Jack cut you off “And she will be having the american cheeseburger with swiss cheese and tater tots on the side.” Looking up at Jack you glared at him and the waitress finished writing down your orders before walking away to start working on everything.

“Why’d you do that Jack? I told you I was okay with a salad.”

“You need to eat Y/N I don’t care if you get upset with me you need to eat.” Rolling your eyes the two of you ate your dinner in silence. After dinner the two of you headed back to the arena he was playing in that night.

You were beyond stressed and tired if any girl was in your shoes she’d be beyond thrilled and excited and you knew it was an honor to travel the world with your boyfriend at such a young age but you had responsibilities as well, you had rent to pay, car notes and insurance to pay as well, Jack would help you in a heartbeat with all of those but you didn’t want to come off as a gold digger.

Once at the arena you got out of the car first, you went to wonder off in hopes of finding Neelam but Jack grabbed your arm and brought you back into him.

“Are you mad at me baby?” He frowned and looked down at you his eyes filled with regret and worry, your eyes started tearing up immediately you didn’t mean to make him upset with you.

“I’m okay Jack just a bit tired is all but I promise I’m okay.”

“You sure baby girl? I wanna make sure you have everything you need and more if something is bothering you don’t hesitate to tell me.” You told Jack almost everything , but how were you supposed to tell him that you were no longer happy living this lifestyle with him.

“I promise I’m okay baby, now go on your soundcheck is in a few minutes.” You squealed when he tickled your sides before he placed a kiss on your cheek.

“I love you baby.”

“I love you too Jack.”

The minute he left the frown was placed again on your face you were tired of walking around with a fake smile on your face. After walking around the venue for a bit you went inside and were thankful when you found Neelam and Jt sitting backstage.

“Well if it isn’t one of the lovebirds, how was dinner? Was the restaurant any good?” Jt asked while trying on a few of her outfit choices for that night.

“Uhh it was good.” Neelam and Jt exchanged looks. They knew something’s been off about you lately and they were determined to figure it out.

“Are you okay Y/N? You know you can always talk to us if anything is bugging you or bothering you.” Jt sat down next to you and wrapped her arms around you the moment she did you broke down into tears.

“Y/N what’s wrong? And don’t like you’re literally crying right now tell us the truth.” Neelam coo’d and rubbed small circles on your back.

“I’m just tired of this lifestyle Neelam it was fun at first and I’m grateful for all the friends I made and being able to experience so much at a young age but this isn’t for me anybody, I can’t be myself I don’t even know who I am anymore, I can’t go outside and go for a walk anymore with someone shoving a camera into my face or fans coming up to me.”

Neelam frowned she hated that you felt this way because she saw you as a daughter and the last thing she wanted was for you to feel as if you couldn’t be yourself.

“Have you tried talking to Jack about it? Maybe you’d be able to go home for a few days and come back when you’re ready.”

“That’s the thing Neelam he always wants me around and I understand because I’m one of the closet things he has to home while away on tour but still I just want to be able to sleep in and go for walks without having a camera in my face I just want to feel like me again.”

You felt as if you were being selfish for feeling this way, you felt not deserving of this lifestyle.

“I think you should talk to Jack about it after tonight’s show Y/N and try and work something out.” Neelam said, Jt agreed with Neelam.

“If not you’ll just keep feeling this way and if you feel that you need a break from all of this then a break is what you need.” Jt reassured you before getting back up and finishing wardrobe.

“Do what’s best for you mentally Y/N, you always make the right decisions.” Neelam have you one last hug before letting you be.

You weren’t sure what to do it was either break Jack’s heart and let him know you weren’t happy anymore or keep on with this fake smile, acting as if everything was okay when it really wasn’t.

Later on that night you sat backstage and admired Jack he was a natural on the stage, you laughed whenever he did his little dance moves and joked with his fans, Jack was made for this lifestyle not you, this isn’t what you wanted anymore and maybe you were about to miss the best part of it all, the only thing you cared about was your health and if Jack didn’t understand that then so be it.

After Jack’s show everyone agreed to go out to one of the clubs that were a few blocks down from the hotel. You honestly weren’t really in the mood to go out and party but you’d do anything to soften the blow.

Your vibe was off all night and Jack caught on, while everyone was on the dance floor dancing and enjoying their night you sat in the booth scrolling through your phone.

“What’s wrong with your girl? She’s been quiet all night.” Ace asked Jack, the two of them sat at the bar getting drinks for everybody, Jack shrugged his shoulders and looked over at you as you looked around the club, he knew you didn’t want to be here but he had to keep you around to make sure you were okay.

“I’m not sure she’s been like this for a few days now.”

“Have you tried talking to her? I seen her talking to Neelam earlier I’m not sure what it was about but she seemed sad.”

“Should I talk to her right now?” Ace shrugged and took a sip of his drink.

“If I was you I would, I’ve noticed Y/N hasn’t been herself lately and I just really hope she’s doing well.” Jack put down his drink before making his way towards you, you were too busy on your phone to notice anybody coming up from behind you.

“Well hello there pretty girl.” You looked up confused but instantly relaxed seeing it was only Jack.

“Hi Jack, you having fun?” Scooting over you made room for him to sit.

“I’m doing okay but do you think I can talk to you outside real quick baby.”

“Sure” You were a bit nervous because you weren’t sure what he wanted to talk about.

Once the two of you were outside you shivered from the crisp cold London air, Jack noticed and took his jacket off before putting it on you.

“Thank you Jack.” You smiled and stood there awkwardly the two of you not really saying anything for a few minutes.

“So what did you want to talk about? Did I do something.”

“What’s going on with you? And don’t give me no bullshit excuse Y/N what’s really going on with you. Ace said you were crying earlier?” Dammit you should’ve checked your surroundings before busting out into tears earlier.

“Honestly Jack I’m not really happy here.” He frowned and furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean you aren’t happy here? Like you aren’t happy with me.”

“No no I’m happy with you Jack I’m just not happy with this lifestyle anymore this isn’t what I want anymore, traveling the world and seeing and experiencing new things was fun at first but it’s taking it’s tole on me and I no longer feel like myself.”

“So what exactly are you saying Y/N, I’m not understanding.”

Biting your lip nervously you weren’t sure how he was going to take or react well to what you were about to say next but you could only wish he took it well and understood where you were coming from.

“I want to go home I don’t want to live this lifestyle anymore Jack I’m not made or built for this.” You cried out. “I’m depressed I feel like I can’t be myself at all I don’t know who I am anymore, fuck I can’t even walk down the street without a camera being shoved into my face.”

Jack stood there with an unreadable look on his face.

“So what you’re saying is you’re not happy with me?” You gave him a puzzled look.

“What? I didn’t say that Jack.”

“That’s basically what you’re saying though Y/N I mean do you know how selfish you sound right now?” Ouch that hurt you always felt as if this entire time you were being selfish and he just basically admitted it.

“I didn’t say that Jack I said I’m happy with being with you I just need a break from this lifestyle I mean you don’t even hesitate to swipe your card after receiving a thousand and something bill meanwhile I do, you’re used to cameras being in your face not me Jack, you’re built for this fucking lifestyle not me.”

In Jack’s mind you were basically saying you weren’t happy with being in a relationship with him and if you felt that way he was going to let you go.

“If you wanna leave so bad I’ll happily get you a plane ticket home.” Jack expressed he had little to no emotion in his tone and it honestly sent shivers down your spine.

“Are you playing with me right now Jack?”

“If I was playing I would’ve said it Y/N, if you want to walk away so bad from this, from me, from us then be my guess but don’t come crawling back when things fall apart.” Your eyes started watering with tears.

“Fine if you feel that way then I will leave.”

“Great I’ll buy your plane ticket tonight and you’ll be gone first thing in the morning.” With that Jack walked right past you and inside the club.

“So what happened between you two?” Ace asked Jack once he got back in the club.

“She’s going home tomorrow.” Ace as well as Nemo gave a puzzled look.

“What do you mean she’s going home?” Jack’s bottom lip trembled at bit as he began to speak. “She isn’t happy here anymore she isn’t happy with this lifestyle and who am I to keep her here.”

“I’m sorry Jack.” Ace and Nemo frowned but wanted nothing but the absolute best for you.

“There isn’t anything to be sorry about this isn’t the life she chose but this is the life I know.”

You weren’t sure if he was bluffing or not but that following morning you woke up and planned on apologizing to Jack but you looked over to his side of the bed it was empty.

“Jack where are you?” Getting up you looked around the hotel room but didn’t see him or his clothes anywhere.

Walking back over to the bed you noticed a piece of paper on the dresser, picking it up you saw it was a plane ticket back home to Atlanta.

( thank you @softtcurse for helping me 💗, let me know what y’all think )

[thelastaerie]

Post-canon multi-chapter FF fics:

The Berlin Chapter - Takes place two years after Free Fall. A special work assignment sends Marc to Berlin, after he finds out Kay has been living there. Kay enjoys his new life in Berlin and is in a budding relationship with a prominent politician, while Marc is determined to convince Kay to give him a second chance, he still has his whole life back in Ludwigsburg.

A Spotless Mind - This takes place about a year after the original film. Separated from Bettina and feeling alienated in his unit, Marc asks for a transfer to Stuttgart, he is still battling the depression caused by Kay's departure and a drinking problem... one day, he finds Kay working in a bar near where he lives... Though this is another "Fix it" fanfic, it has a twist which some may find implausible, but I have this idea that wouldn't go away, so I thought I'll try to reunite Kay and Marc under different circumstances.

Parting Words - This is a post Canon fic set 10 years after the movie. Marc is now a Sergeant in Berlin’s criminal investigation police department (KriPo), balancing a promising career and a busy dating life. Even though the one regret in his life remains, Marc believes he has moved on - or so he thought until he sees Kay again by chance on the train one morning. Just like before, seeing Kay unravels Marc’s life. It doesn’t help that Kay seems to be doing a disappearing act. Their paths cross when a work-related opportunity presents itself, they soon find out how much has changed and how much has remained the same between them.

Winter Bird - A post-canon short story set between 2-3 years after the original movie ending. Marc tries to move on; he thinks Kay has moved on, so it shouldn’t matter when Frank tells him where Kay is, should it? But soon regrets and memories keep calling, Marc decides to go looking - a trip which could turn out to be a fateful one - for the road to redemption is paved with perils.

The Confessional - This is a post-canon short story.

Leaving Ludwigsburg, his police career and Marc Borgmann behind, Kay Engel decides to have a new career and a new life. His phone number isn’t new but at least he has the sense to block Marc’s number. Out of sight, out of mind, right? Except Marc doesn’t seem to care that Kay isn’t listening. He has made a habit of leaving one-sided messages, treating Kay’s phone like a confessional…

Alternate Universe (AU) multi-chapter FF fics:

Doppelpass - AU story based on Free Fall characters, set in the world of professional football/soccer league in Germany (Bundesliga).  Star attacking midfielder Marc Borgmann has two goals this year: winning the league title and Player of the Year award, until Kay Engel enters his life and makes him questioning everything in his life.  A rising star in League 2, Kay Engel has a secret he has to keep and falling in love with his new team captain is not his idea of a career move.

Doppelpass: How to Solve a Problem Like Mario - Marc and Kay are living their new life in Hamburg. Marc is the manager of St. Pauli football team who has just been promoted to Bundesliga top league. He begins to notice that one of his players, Mario Lüthi, seems to be harbouring a secret; and has taken an interest in meeting Kay.  Set in the “Doppelpass” serie universe, this is a slight crossover with the characters from the movie “Mario” (2018), although you do not need to watch “Mario” to follow this story.

Doppelpass: Christmas coda - Doppelgänger - This little Christmas chapter takes place after Doppelpass’s last Chapter but before the Epilogue.  This is soon after they have moved to Hamburg, when Marc is getting his football management pro licence and Kay is attending university.  In Kay’s POV - Marc and Kay discuss how to spend their Christmas.

Running on Empty - This is a AU story based on Freier Fall/Free Fall characters. Plus a few original characters.  For Marc Borgmann, life is good. He’s about to get married, the security company he co-owns finally hits the big league, landing a lucrative contract to protect prominent businessman, Wenzel Wolff. What he isn't expecting is Wenzel's aloof and ambitious executive assistant, Kay Klossner, who seems to be hiding a secret or two, of who he really is - someone from Marc’s past.  Kay Engel thinks he has the best-laid plans. He is so close to the truth now, all he needs is a bit more time. What he isn't expecting is his first crush, Marc Borgmann, reappearing in his life again, stirring up feelings Kay thought he has long given up.  Marc sees himself as a protector, but he has no idea who he might end up protecting.

Wanderlust - “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas” - Marc meets Kay, a charming stranger, during a holiday in a Far East city. And allows himself to break a few rules along the way. It’s okay, Marc thinks. Because they will never see each other again. Right?  Until one day Kay turns up in Marc’s place of business... This is an AU story with Free Fall characters. A semi holiday romance with a closeted bisexual man who is good with his hands, a photographer who is often prettier than the subjects he photographs. And a chocolate Labrador with separation anxiety.

Take Me Home - An AU story based on Free Fall characters.

Sole heir of a large family business empire, Marc Borgmann is used to his jet-set high life. He has deals to make, plans to execute and goals to achieve. He also has a secret. But don’t worry, he already has a solution for it. It’s all under control - he has an agreement with his ambitious girlfriend. Marc likes rules and he follows them. Until he meets Kay Engel on a flight from Berlin to New York, who breaks rules for fun, leaves napkins with cute cartoons everywhere he goes and Marc can’t seem to get rid of him. Or does he really want to? This is more than opposite attracts, this is Kay turning Marc’s world upside down.

The Wayward Son - An AU story based on Freier Fall characters.

Marc has just joined the famous Berlin LKA, his police career is looking up. All he needs now is to meet the right woman, get married, have 2.3 children and a house of their own. The night he meets Bettina, he thinks he has hit the jackpot, she’s perfect. But Bettina isn’t the only one Marc meets that night. There is also this mysterious stranger named Kay Engel who says weird things to Marc and two hours later, he’s working with Marc and his colleagues on a big kidnapping case. Marc befriends Kay over the course of the investigation, soon he finds out the life he planned for himself might not be what his heart really wants…

Canon-Divergence multi-chapter FF fics:

Say Something - This is a canon-divergence fic that starts from and diverts from the original film after the scene when Marc hits Kay. With additional characters.  It is still a “fix-it” story. I’m just trying to explore some “what if” scenarios where the trajectory of the story changes, Kay and Marc make different decisions etc.

Day Zero - This is a canon-divergence story with the assumption that Bettina hasn’t found out about the fake night shifts - so Marc’s affair with Kay remains a secret, even though he has broken up with Kay.  The story starts from Marc returning home after giving the key back to Kay.

Nightswimmers - This is a canon-divergence story. It follows the original film version right up to the forest scene where Marc flees after his first sexual encounter with Kay.

What if Kay never got transferred to Marc’s unit? In this story, they meet five years later in another city. Marc is still with Bettina and their son is five years old. Kay has left the police force and now working as a paramedic.  Marc never forgets Kay and what happened between them has stirred up something in him, although he is still repressing his feelings, he finds ways to cope with it. But seeing Kay again changes everything again.

Once upon a time, chasing after Marc was Kay’s number one goal. But a shattering experience one night has changed his life forever. He thought the chance is lost before it can begin. But seeing Marc again… could this be his second chance?

Canon-Divergence one-shot FF fics:

Someplace New - A one-shot canon divergence. Part of the writing challenge on scenario: Marc returns to Kay’s apartment and Kay is still there.  This is written in both Frank and Marc’s POV

The Key on the Ledge - This is a one-shot Canon-Divergence. Marc goes back to Kay's apartment  as Kay is just leaving.  

Extended scene/missing scene one-shot FF fics:

Ambush - Extended scene and my take on the “Don’t you get it? I love you” scene from the original film.

The Day He Gave Me His Key - Just my musings on the scene when Kay gave the key to Marc. Marc’s POV

A One-off / Ein Ausrutscher - Mostly canon but with added missing scenes. It is the period soon after Marc’s son was born but before Kay got caught  during a police raid.

The Offer - My take on the scenes when Kay offers to go *jogging* with Marc and their encounter in the woods, with additional made up scenes.

*Updated summary of my marc x kay fanfics ❤️

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC Lucien’s Exclusive Past- Monochrome Scenery translation

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT ⚠️

This post contains a HEAVY SPOILER for the story that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

Through Thousands of Mirrors Event | Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | HS/Uni SSR Story: Monochrome Scenery (You're here!)

[Notes from Lux: Here’s the CN video link if anyone wants to follow along his Voice Acting. VERY recommended to re-read Until Dawn R&S regarding his 'contract' with BS. AND perhaps Distant Similarity UR MQ as it's the date that is relevant to this story.

-

[Part 1]

I walk hurriedly towards Dr. Lawson's laboratory, while opening the paper bag in my hand, and stuffing the hamburger into my mouth.

Skipping lunch might save some time, but if it leads to a lack of carbohydrates and sugar, causing a decrease in productivity during the entire afternoon, it could be counterproductive.

When will nutritionists finally invent nutritional packages? Preferably in the form of a liquid that can be consumed just once a day.

The time saved this way would be enough for me to read a few more research papers.

??: Hi, Lucien. Are you going to the lab?

A friendly voice from behind rings out, and I turn to look behind me.

Lucien: Hello, Elliot.

Elliot: Seems like we're both going to be late.

Elliot quickly crosses a puddle, only slowing down after catching up with my steps.

Elliot: But I recall you've always been punctual. Did the recent lab class not go smoothly?

Lucien: I chatted with Professor White for a while and lost track of time.

Elliot: Ah, I understand. She's always very talkative... The only one who can talk as much as her is my clinical medicine professor.

Elliot sighed deeply and pointed at the teaching building he had walked from. We quicken our pace once more.

When we arrive at the lab, Senior Caroline has already begun today's work.

Just as I put my bag next to my desk, someone heavily pats my back.

??: Hi!!

The overly enthusiastic voice pierces through my eardrums, and without turning around, I know it's Colt.

Now that he's here, his daily challenges are probably about to begin again.

Sure enough, after greeting me, Colt slightly composes himself and looks at me.

Colt: Good afternoon, "Xiū, Mǒ" How's that, did I pronounce it correctly this time?

Lucien: It's "Xǔ Mò".

He scratches his head in frustration and quickly starts a new round of attempts.

Lucien: Actually, you can just call me "Lucien".

Colt: How can that be acceptable? I have great respect for Chinese culture; I'll definitely learn how to pronounce your name!

Colt raises his eyebrows high, and the confident expression on his face is so exaggerated that it could be used as a reference for the facial expression scale.

I give up trying to explain to him that "respect" and "pronunciation" are not causally related, and I put on my protective gear after setting down my bag.

I hope he succeeds soon and gives up making me his involuntary Chinese teacher, where I'm only tasked with examining two words every morning.

Caroline: Shut up, Colt. Leave Lucien alone and come over here to work, okay?

Caroline who was immersed in her experiment furrows her brow and glares at Colt, using her gaze to reprimand the "senior" lab member who has been there the longest.

In the end, she smiles and greets me.

Caroline: How's it going today, Xǔ Mò?

Lucien: Sorry for being late. Where should I start taking over from now?

Colt: This isn't fair! You've never greeted me with such a smile. Wait, why is your pronunciation correct? One more time, Xiū... Xī…

Like everyone else, I calmly ignore Colt's continuous self-challenges and begin today's work.

As a newcomer who has been in the lab for just about a month, there isn't much for me to do.

In fact, everyone here is more like doing their own research in the lab on topics they are passionate about, while occasionally helping Dr. Lawson with minor tasks.

Looking back, it seems that this casual and free atmosphere could be glimpsed from the very beginning, during that interview with just two questions.

-

=Flashback Start=

Dr. Lawson: You have an excellent research experience, and the awards you've received are enough to apply to even more top-notch labs.

Dr. Lawson: Why did you choose to reach out to me?

The doctor set my application paper and the stack of recommendation letters aside, looking into my eyes.

Lucien: I'm currently very interested in topics related to parietal lobe function research and its applications.

Lucien: So, for me, your lab is the best choice.

Dr. Lawson: Hmm, there is indeed a high match in terms of research direction.

Dr. Lawson: So, what do you hope the lab can provide for you?

I instinctively thought I had misheard.

Questions like "What do you think you can bring to the lab?" are ones I've mastered, but this reverse question isn't as common.

After a brief moment of thought, I honestly answered.

Lucien: If possible, I hope to research more of what I'm interested in within the limited time.

The doctor raised an eyebrow without giving a clear response, concluding this brief interview that lasted less than a few minutes. And a few days later, he sent me an acceptance email.

=Flashback End=

Colt: Hey, Xī Mó! Listen to me, I have a great idea!

Probably seeing that I'm not especially busy, Colt eagerly strides over to my desk, holding a small box in his hand.

I set down the keyboard, take out a notebook from the side, and turn towards him.

Colt's thought process is unique; he always manages to come up with some innovative ideas.

Lucien: Do you have any new ideas regarding the research topic?

Colt: No, no, there's not much to do today. How about a game of the traditional lab card game - NOU!

Colt: Do you want to join?

Lucien: …

And of course, there are times when it's just pure time-wasting.

I offer a polite and apologetic smile in return.

Lucien: No, thank you.

-

[Part 2]

A fixed routine can often lead to a skewed perception of time and dates.

I flip over the calendar again and mark the schedule for the midterm exam week, which is about half a month away.

Exams may not be a cause for concern, but papers and classroom presentations still require time-consuming preparation.

I furrow my brow as I look at the data for my research project on my desk. Just as I'm about to set down my pen, I pause.

The current issue is that the research progress is slower than anticipated, requiring extra time to meticulously review the results.

The once well-structured plan has become exceptionally tight.

How about cutting two hours off my sleep? It shouldn't significantly affect my regular routine.

And smoothly, a blank section appears on the spreadsheet.

Satisfied, I add a line next to my schedule: "Email Dr. Lawson to request an extension of laboratory usage time" as a reminder.

Then, I pick up the already printed poster and leave the dorm on time.

It's my turn to present a report in class today.

Lucien: Hello, everyone. Now it's my turn to share something with all of you.

Whispers of discussion arise one after another, even a few students who had just been yawning straightened up in their seats.

Half the semester has passed, and the curious glances that used to accompany me have subsided. My age, my height, and where I come from might not be as important anymore.

I know very well that now all the curious and probing gazes are focused solely on the poster I have unfolded.

In the corner of my eye, someone raises their hand.

Lucien: Is there a question?

I set down my materials and quietly look at the student who raises their hand.

Student A: I don't have any questions about your presentation. I'm just curious if injuries in the relevant brain region have an impact on drug addiction?

This is an expected question, as I myself noticed similar uncertainties when researching for literature.

Lucien: There is indeed an overlap, but based on existing research, I don't believe there is a direct correlation between the two.

Lucien: Moreover, for the topic I'm currently presenting, there's no need to overly emphasize the impact of different functions within the same area.

But it's evident that the other person doesn't share the same view.

After a brief moment of silence, he raises the issue of potential effects caused by drugs, and I counter each of his points.

However, the consecutive inquiries and debates have actually given me a fresh perspective on the topic at hand.

I attempt to work it out in my head, then take a pen and start writing on the whiteboard.

Lucien: Adding the drug effects caused by addiction as one of the conditions…

Lucien: I currently lack the relevant literature evidence, further substantiation will require future research, but I do have some hypotheses.

The rapidly moving marker on the whiteboard makes a slight squeaking sound as I write, and more questions and discussions emerge in the classroom.

Student B: Given the drug effects, the current papers seem somewhat lacking in rigor.

Student C: But we also shouldn't overly focus on such special cases, just from an experimental perspective…

These ideas and questions aren't quite direct and precise enough.

But the known theorems are once again filled with possibilities, and what I initially considered just a school assignment topic seems to have become interesting again.

The brilliance of the unknown and curiosity subtly shine through the structured words, silently beckoning everyone who tries to explore the mysteries.

Of course, I'm also paying the corresponding "price" for this "interest".

Class ends nearly twenty minutes later than scheduled, and I can only jog all the way, hoping not to be too late for the next classroom.

As I gaze at the ever-extending street ahead, I begin to understand why so many people are buying bicycles.

—------------------------------------------------------------

Lucien: Good afternoon, I hope I'm not too late.

Caroline: Of course not. Take a rest for a while. There isn't much to do today.

Caroline looks up, smiles at me, and points to the well-stocked snack cabinet on the side.

I put down my backpack, intending to pick up my water bottle to get some water, but I notice that there's a stack of data on the table that I haven't worked on, with several annotations written in different handwriting.

Slender and smooth cursive characters detail the model's construction and calculation process, while round and hastily written words explain extensive contemplation and inferences, along with many grammar errors.

Slightly smaller handwriting marks cited references and related experiments.

Lucien: Are these... further derivations based on my personal research project?

A head pokes out from the edge of the table.

Colt smiles and waves at me, with Caroline and Elliot following behind.

Several people stand by the table, making the already small space seem even smaller.

Colt: Well, I heard about the direction of your project a few weeks ago during the meeting and found it very interesting. I got into the habit of discussing it with Caroline when we were chatting…

Caroline gives an apologetic smile.

Caroline: I'm really sorry. Colt looked at your desk and research notes without your permission.

Caroline: He usually doesn't have a strong sense of boundaries when he's around us, and we've become used to it. We didn't expect him to go through your research materials this time.

Caroline: I initially wanted to refuse to discuss it with him, but the research direction is so novel, and the reasons for the roadblock are also quite intriguing. It was easy to get carried away…

The research content is indeed not much of a privacy concern, and exchanging data and projects is quite normal.

Lucien: Next time, we could discuss it during the regular meeting or just talk to me directly. It would be more efficient.

Lucien: However…

I quietly watch the smiling faces of others, my puzzlement still not answered.

Lucien: As I recall, my direction doesn't really overlap with yours, does it?

Caroline: Yes, so we've just made some inferences. The specifics still require you to take another look.

Lucien: Okay.

I lower my head again and begin to roughly browse through those handwritings.

Colt didn't propose a new direction but changed the experimental approach, while Caroline and Elliot used this to present arguments or counterarguments.

Different notes mutually fill in and correct each other, gradually outlining a clear framework.

Lucien: This hypothesis seems to have a high feasibility.

Lucien: I will try to adjust the experiment according to this approach later.

Lucien: At a suitable time in the future, based on the specific data, we can determine whether it can move forward or not.

Colt: Sure, it can!

Colt nods vigorously, his voice much louder than usual.

Colt: I've noticed that you've been busy with midterm exams and papers lately, so I ran some of the data with them to save you from spending extra time to test and verify the data.

Colt: So far, several graphs are looking quite good. I hope they can be of help to you!

Lucien: …All of the data?

I'm stunned.

I've already prepared to apply for extra lab time, but the data I needed to test and verify has just landed directly in my hands like this.

Colt: Of course! The three of us taking turns won't take much time, better than you staying here without eating or drinking.

On the side, Elliot also smiles and hands over another stack of documents.

Elliot: I asked a friend who's a clinical medicine student, and I was able to get some research materials on what happens when you have a lesion in the area in question.

Elliot: Perhaps it can offer some assistance from a different perspective. Consider it as broadening your perspective.

Lucien: Thank you. I did plan to reference some research findings from other fields, but unfortunately, I haven't had enough time recently.

A valuable idea to consider, coupled with readily available data, and the issue that had been stagnant for two weeks was suddenly solved without any warning.

I silently look at the mixed handwriting.

I know that human beings will always help each other and work together to achieve what individuals can't do alone.

Relying on each other for certain aspects and independently taking on the needs of others within the same community.

But along with the objective facts, there is also an inexplicable and faint warm feeling surging to my heart.

The seemingly ordinary paper in my hand now vaguely has a different weight to it.

Lucien: (gently) Thank you, all of you.

Colt: Hey, kid.

Colt smiles and puts his arm around my shoulder.

Colt: We're all from the same lab, so helping each other is only natural.

-

[Part 3]

After the last meeting before the autumn break, Dr. Lawson stopped me.

Dr. Lawson: Lucien, do you have any plans for the autumn break?

Dr. Lawson is organizing the reports we submitted, his tone is calm.

Lucien: I'm staying on campus. If there's a need for someone to oversee the lab, I can help.

Dr. Lawson: You aren't going home?

I smile and reply in the same tone that Colt and the others usually use when joking around.

Lucien: Returning to Loveland City during such a short one-week break?

Dr. Lawson smiles and shakes his head.

Dr. Lawson: How about going nearby? You still have time to plan a short trip with friends.

Dr. Lawson: There are plenty of interesting places within the state worth seeing. Take a train or bus, and "whoosh," it's easy to get around.

Lucien: That sounds appealing, but I'd prefer to take this opportunity to catch up on my project and coursework progress.

Lucien: Recently, my research has just started to make some progress. I'd like to work on it nonstop until I achieve some results.

Lucien: Or is it just that during the autumn break, the school doesn't allow students to stay on campus?

Dr. Lawson: Of course not, silly kid.

Dr. Lawson: I'm just curious, why are you always in such a hurry?

I quietly look at the old man in front of me.

There are too many things I want to explore, and there's too little time.

Nevertheless, I don't feel that I appear "impatient" in my usual behavior.

The doctor shakes his head and taps the table with his fingers.

Dr. Lawson: At your age, you should go out more, travel, play games, take walks, do something silly... Just do anything to waste time and enjoy life.

Dr. Lawson: You do have an impressive intellect, but there are geniuses all around here. So, frankly, you're also an ordinary kid.

Lucien: ….

I've never thought of myself as a once-in-a-lifetime genius, but being straightforwardly labeled as "ordinary" is indeed a first for me.

And, of course, being labeled "in a hurry" is also a first.

Lucien: I don't quite understand what you mean, Doctor.

After a brief silence, I eventually chose to ask the question directly.

Dr. Lawson: I don't doubt your abilities. Lucien, you can accomplish many things by yourself.

Dr. Lawson: But you should also trust your team, after all, this laboratory doesn't consist of just you alone.

He casually points to a group of people in the distance who are playing NOU, and over there, it's particularly noisy, as if the game of cards is reaching a conclusion.

Caroline proudly crosses her arms and looks sideways at Colt, who is slumped over the table, looking dejected.

Elliot begins to tidy up the card table and starts shuffling the cards again.

Dr. Lawson: They're all kids in their late teens to early twenties here in the lab. Came a few years before you, and perhaps they'll leave a few years earlier as well.

Dr. Lawson: But in the road of scientific research, everyone is just a beginner taking their first steps.

Dr. Lawson: I'm not asking you to really study and imitate anyone, but doing something different from your usual routine might make you gain something special. What do you think?

The doctor slows down his voice, his calm tone not resembling a question, it's as if he's talking about the treasure that he is most proud of.

The stack of data with various annotations from a few days ago inexplicably resurfaces in my memory.

I subconsciously infer that when the doctor said, "You're just an ordinary kid", perhaps it meant, "There are many people like you here."

Looking at Dr. Lawson again, he remains as not casual and serious as he was during class. His words are solemn and genuine with a touch of guidance.

Dr. Lawson: If you haven't achieved any significant progress or results within a week, there's no need to lock yourself in the lab every day. But if you need to, remember to turn off the lights and lock the door.

I carefully put away the key he had placed on the table.

Lucien: I'll keep an eye out for it.

Dr. Lawson: Happy holidays.

Lucien: I also wish you a happy holiday.

I say goodbye to him, and as I walk to the door, the doctor adds another sentence.

Dr. Lawson: Take care. And of course, I mean not just during these vacation days.

He smiles at me, speaking a bit slower than usual.

Lucien: You too, Doctor. Take care.

"Take care." The simple sentence passes through my mind, lingering longer than the other phrases.

I think maybe it's because of the pronunciation.

—-------------------------------------------------------

The teaching building has become much quieter during the holidays.

The leaves outside the window are rustling. It's as if the entire city is reminding people of the traces of autumn.

The laboratory feels strangely colder than usual after I'm the only one left.

I closed the window, put on my sweatshirt, and continued with the experiment at hand.

However, the autumn chill didn't last long and was soon warmed up again by the lingering heat of summer.

—-------------------------------------------------------

Five days later, along with the rising temperature, what returned was the noisy chatter within the laboratory.

The first to arrive at the laboratory is the always-diligent Caroline.

She brings a larger-than-usual handbag, takes out beautifully wrapped gifts, and places them on everyone's table one by one.

Caroline: A few days ago, I went to Yellowstone National Park with my family and brought back some souvenirs.

Lucien: Thank you. How was your holiday?

Caroline: It was pretty good, though I wish it could have been longer. I feel like I could stay there for at least half a month.

Caroline: I thought you might prefer something more practical, so I brought this for you. Go ahead and open it.

She smiles and points to the gift box I had placed by the desk. Inside the neatly wrapped layers of gift paper is a coffee mug, with the design of erupting geysers on its surface.

Caroline: This is a landmark sight in the park. I was truly moved when I saw it erupt right on time. I really wish everyone in the lab could go see it!

Lucien: I'll go there if I get the chance in the future.

??: Hi friends! I'm back! Did you miss me during your wonderful holiday?

The next second, a figure rushes in through the door of the laboratory.

Colt is also carrying a package, which is twice the size of Caroline's.

Colt: Oh my god... you're actually working. That's way too diligent.

He looks at me with wide eyes. After some rummaging in the package, there's another gift on my desk.

Colt: I highly recommend trying my grandma's cookies. Even the most popular shops around here can't compete with her skills.

Colt: Oh, by the way, the bookmarks inside were made by my mom. She's recently gotten into handicraft, and our house is getting filled with the things she makes.

Lucien: Please thank your family on my behalf.

Colt: Then they'd be so delighted that they might just invite you over as a guest.

Colt: By the way, do you really spend every day in the lab? Haven't you had any rest at all?

Colt sits down next to me, looking like he won't give up until he gets an answer.

Lucien: I visited a few museums.

Lucien: I also visited some scenic spots along the way and strolled through the market.

Caroline: I remember a few days ago there was a Shakespearean touring theater group performing nearby. Have you heard about it? The performance…

The computer screen in front of me enters screensaver mode, and I realize that I should politely decline this conversation to reactivate the computer and continue processing the data I was in the middle of reviewing.

But when my fingertips touch the keyboard, I pause again.

Such conversations don't have much meaning, but they don't make me feel annoyed either.

Besides, today's progress has been completed ahead of schedule, and there is indeed some free time on my agenda.

I let the screen continue playing the screensaver images.

Colt: How about we also go see a play today?

Lucien: The theater troupe left the day before yesterday, and tickets also needed to be booked in advance.

During the conversation, the laboratory door is pushed open once again.

Elliot: Hey, I thought I was the earliest one here.

Elliot also has a delicately wrapped gift in his hands.

Same greetings, same small talk, and same distribution of gifts.

I look at the three gifts on the desk- I should have some time over the weekend to visit the market and find three suitable return gifts.

Before the plan has been finalized, another particularly large gift appears on my desk.

Dr. Lawson: You all should find these books useful.

Dr. Lawson smiles and nods at us, placing the hefty books one by one on our respective desks, before finally sitting back in the chair and letting out a sigh of relief.

Dr. Lawson: I really should have chosen some lighter gifts; four big books are too heavy for an old man like me.

Lucien: ....Looks like it's four gifts.

I say to myself softly.

Dr. Lawson: Hmm? Did you say something, Lucien?

Lucien: Nothing. I was just saying… "thank you".

Lucien: By the way, Doctor. Here's the key to the laboratory.

The small key that has been with me for five days is returned to its rightful owner.

The gentle breeze blows a book on my table, flipping back a page as fallen leaves dance lightly and land on the windowsill.

I glance at the cloudless sky, hoping that this weekend will also be a sunny day, suitable for going out.

-

[Part 4]

Everyone left the laboratory with the gifts, but Colt unexpectedly broke from his usual behavior and didn’t attend any party.

Instead, he followed Elliot and me all the way to our dormitory building.

Elliot: Colt, your dormitory isn't over here.

Colt: I know, I know. But on this especially memorable day, how about a game of NOU to celebrate? Here's to our reunion!

Elliot: I knew it... I don't want to play NOU with just the two of us. You better invite one more person.

Colt: Will Xù mò be joining us?

Colt looks up at me, and this is the 16th invitation he has extended to me since I joined this laboratory.

Lucien: Okay.

Colt: It's fine, maybe next time... Wait, what?!

Elliot: You're going to join us?!

They aren't the only ones confused, I'm also a bit puzzled myself.

The choices I've made today are all a bit out of the ordinary, and it makes me wonder why I want to act the way I do.

If I join, will I be able to find the answers?

Besides... Looking at the two of them that have the same expression as if they've just seen a new topic; if I want to refuse now, the amount of effort required doesn't seem proportional to the outcome.

Lucien: Yes.

Lucien: I don't have any other plans for today-

Before I could finish speaking, the two of them had already surrounded me, one on the left and one on the right.

Colt: Is this the blessing of the Autumn Break God! Elliot, let's go quickly.

Elliot: Lucien won't run away again this time.

Saying so, he continues to pull me without stopping towards a small table in the public lounge area.

Just as we sit down at the small table, Colt eagerly begins to shuffle the cards.

Elliot: Do you need an explanation of the rules?

Lucien: No need.

Having watched them play so many times, I'm not entirely unfamiliar with the rules of the game, and the symbols on the corners of the cards also help me determine their colors.

I'll consider it as an exercise in reasoning and memory then.

—--------------------------------------------------------

Elliot: NOU, +2!

Colt: Wait a minute, that's not right. You're cheating! Why do you have a red +2?

After the initial "demonstration round", I quickly realized that this game might not be as straightforward as I had imagined.

Lucien: ...Drawing a +2 card directly from the deck is not entirely impossible either.

Colt: Huh? +2 should be in your hand, right?

Colt: Judging by the overall color distribution of the cards played, it seems like you're building a hand predominantly based on red cards.

Lucien: However, based on the cards that have already been played, there are still 28% red cards left in the deck.

Lucien: I would need to draw that +2 card along with another red number card starting from at least the first four rounds to maintain an advantage without playing the +2.

Elliot: My dear friend, just admit that low probability is still probability and draw the cards.

I nod in silence and urge Colt to draw a card, preventing the game from turning into his endless mathematical calculations.

If that happens, he will build a solid model in his mind and he'll be almost impossible to beat.

I take another look at the situation on the card table.

Setting Colt aside for now, among Elliot's three cards, there should only be blue and green ones.

Or in an extremely low-probability scenario, there might be one Wild card or possibly the last +4 card aside from mine.

I closely watch each card played, rapidly calculating the possible card arrangements in others' hands in my mind.

And I'm equally aware that the other two people sitting at the card table are also making their own deductions in their own ways.

I need to conduct another experiment, even if the cost is higher than expected value.

It's my turn once again.

Lucien: Change color, let's go with... blue.

Colt, who is determined to beat Elliot, wears a worried expression, while Elliot confidently draws a card.

"Reverse."

I silently say to myself.

Elliot: Reverse.

The variables waiting to be filled in gradually decrease, and assuming confirmation is obtained, the inference is established.

The opportunity to determine the course of the card game on the table comes back to me once again.

Colt: Come on Xǔ mò, it's time to play a number card and join forces to eliminate Elliot early!

Lucien: Is that so? I thought I'd have a better option.

Quick responses and extensive thinking make the brain more active than usual.

A seemingly meaningless card game becomes more complex due to repeated setups and disruptions.

Pure competition for calculation speed and formulating strategies stimulate the release of neurotransmitters.

I raise the corners of my mouth and quietly play my card.

Lucien: I choose +4, green.

Due to too many unexpected situations, Colt, who had stopped calculating, begins to howl in frustration.

Elliot, sitting across the table, also appears surprised, his gaze once again scanning the cards on the table.

It's my turn again.

I smile, say NOU, and play the green number card, leaving only one of the same color in my hand and skipping the next player’s turn.

Unless the almost improbable reversal occurred when they have the last card, a color-changing card, and bring it onto the playing field from the deck

But I trust my calculations more than probability.

Colt: Xǔ mò, I thought you were my friend!

Colt has flipped his cards onto the table, giving up on the struggle.

Lucien: Of course I am. That's why I'm sitting here, playing cards with you.

I lean my chin on my hand and look at the card table, unable to suppress the victorious curve at the corner of my mouth.

Lucien: Also, thank you for calling me by my name correctly.

Unfortunately, it's still Elliot who reaches 500 points first.

Colt is not one to accept defeat easily, and he pulls us into starting a new round of the game.

The card game goes on from the afternoon into the evening, and we unknowingly gather a crowd of onlookers around us.

Centered around this small table, the dormitory that was quiet just a few hours ago is now overflowing with discussion and laughter.

We graciously give up our seats to other students who also want to give it a try and withdraw from the crowd.

Colt: Xī... Xú mò is quite skilled. If we go by rounds, he tied with Elliot.

I haven't responded yet when Elliot chuckles and shakes his head, then tosses a box of ice cream from the fridge to both Colt and me.

It's the most common chocolate ice cream with nuts and chocolate chunks added.

I've seen it in many convenience stores, but I've never been interested in buying it.

Elliot: In front of our little genius' brain, even the best luck can only yield to skill.

Colt: Sigh... the vacation is too short. It feels like it just started, and now it's already over in a blink of an eye.

Colt finished his ice cream in a few bites and tossed the empty box into the trash. He leans on the bar table, watching the new round of NOU craze.

Colt: How about we have another round of NOU to refresh ourselves after the experiment is over tomorrow?

Elliot: Lucien, are you joining as well?

Lucien: I have to start preparing for my thesis from tomorrow.

Lucien: The experiment has made progress as well, so I want to sort out the related processes.

Colt: Oh... that's a shame. But how about next time? You'll come, right?

In the dorm room without air conditioning on this autumn day, the ice cream seems to melt even faster than it would in the heat of summer.

I scoop up a spoonful of the slightly softened ice cream and put it in my mouth.

The taste of chocolate spreads with the coolness, it's sweeter than I had imagined.

Lucien: I will if I have the time.

—------------------------------------------------

After seeing them off, I close the door and start preparing for tomorrow's coursework, allowing life to return to its normal course.

A notification pops up on my laptop, indicating an email from Dr. Lawson.

"Hi, everyone. Thank you for your hard work. Our lab's project has passed the review, so you can start preparing for the academic conference that will take place in a few months."

"The conference will be held on a beautiful beach on the West Coast. Since we have ample time, you can all bring your swimsuits and enjoy some time by the water."

"Colt, as for you, don't bring too many fancy things. And definitely leave the unicorn swimming ring behind!"

I can almost imagine Dr. Lawson saying this with a furrowed brow, while Colt complains reluctantly.

"P.S. Lucien's personal research topic aligns with the conference theme. Although the application is a bit late, there will be people at the conference who have done related research."

"You can prepare a summary of your current progress and any issues you've encountered to discuss together."

"P.P.S. Welcome back, everyone."

These few short sentences make me feel a bit warm.

*Ding*

The inbox hasn't closed yet, and there's another notification sound.

The email is encrypted; its sender is Black Swan.

I glance at the calendar and realize that today is the day for the routine report.

The newly arrived email obscures most of Dr. Lawson's message, and the sharp-edged letters in the signature appear to be some kind of silent warning.

"Why are you always in such a hurry?"

Dr. Lawson asked me this before the autumn break.

Yes, children his age have plenty of time to pause, slow down, and enjoy the scenery around them.

To try, to fail, to start over from scratch, to explore endless possibilities.

But Doctor, vacations are always so short.

They always end when you least expect it.

I close the laptop and start selecting the book I want to read tonight.

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

[Phone Call- Class Reunion]

Lucien: Hello? At this time, you should have finished washing up and lying down, right?

MC: Um! I just finished my skincare routine and am already lying down.

Lucien: You sound happier than usual. Did you have a lot of fun at the class reunion today?

MC: You can tell?~ So many people came to the gathering today! All of my old roommates were there too!

Lucien: Are they the ones in the photo you sent, who took a group picture with you?

MC: Yes! Although we've kept in touch after graduation, getting back together like this is still quite rare.

Lucien: No wonder your eyes looked a bit red in the photo.

MC: Haha... I got a little too excited.

MC: But now that I think about it, I don't recall Professor Lucien mentioning much about his own classmates or roommates?

Lucien: I do have colleagues I work with in a lab, but our relationship might not be as close as you and your friends.

MC: Do you guys meet up regularly?

Lucien: We are now in different places continuing our own projects, and most of us have our own laboratories.

Lucien: It's indeed not easy to find a time when everyone is available.

Lucien: However, we do occasionally meet at neuroscience-related academic conferences. That could perhaps be considered a sort of 'class reunion'.

MC: ...Is this what gatherings are like for scientists?

MC: What about your roommates? Do you meet up with them?

Lucien: I lived in a single room and didn't really socialize with others in the same dormitory building.

MC: Wow! That must have been so comfortable! Doesn't that mean you could do whatever you wanted?

Lucien: At that time, I thought it was very convenient to have a space where I would not be disturbed by other people.

Lucien: But now, I've come to realize that having a 'neighbor' around who can 'disturb' me at any time might actually be more comforting.

MC: Oh? Do tell, I'm all ears!.

Lucien: For instance, when I'm out, someone can help me take care of the flowers on my windowsill, or if I forget to buy new tea leaves, I can ask this special neighbor next door for a bit.

Lucien: There are also occasional biscuits and sandwiches, and if I stay up too late, I will receive reminders.

Lucien: And more importantly…

Lucien: With this neighbor lady here, the place where I live is not just a spot to rest, but can be called a home.

-

[Phone Call - Novice Period]

Lucien: I thought you were also too busy to answer my call today.

MC: I just had a meeting with the new colleagues at the company, so I didn't hear your call.

Lucien: Do you still have some work left to finish?

MC: Not exactly... it's just that this recent batch of new colleagues who joined recently has been really busy.

MC: So I decided to hold a meeting to help them improve efficiency during work hours, aiming for them to leave on time after work.

MC: After all, there's always more work to be done, right? I don't want them to wear themselves out. The way they approach overtime work makes me quite nervous.

Lucien: [chuckles] They're lucky to have a boss who cares for the well-being of employees like you.

Lucien: However, when everyone starts their first job, there's always a certain level of nervousness. So, they can only ease that nervousness by working hard.

MC: Oh? Professor Lucien, you sound quite experienced, but I suppose you didn't have such worries, did you?

Lucien: Of course not, the first time I entered a laboratory outside of school, I also needed some time to adapt.

MC: Wow, what were you like back then?

Lucien: Hmm... I had to clean lab equipment, organize data files, help with literature research—there were many mundane tasks.

MC: Pfft, so Professor Lucien also started as a working person from scratch.

Lucien: That's right. Everyone in the same lab was highly capable, so back then, I often shadowed others, observing and learning as much as I could.

MC: Were there people even more capable than you?

Lucien: [chuckle] Among them, I think I'm just an ordinary person who works hard.

MC: Professor Lucien, your concept of 'ordinary' seems quite demanding.... But I didn't expect you to have a 'novice period' as well.

Lucien: Is that such a surprise?

MC: Maybe it's because your student days were quite unique. While most people were enjoying their youth, you were immersed in scientific research.

Lucien: I suppose it all depends on one's definition of 'youth'.

Lucien: If we're talking about a phase in life where you can do what you like without worrying about consequences, where you can fully explore possibilities…

Lucien: In that case, I'd say my graduate and postgraduate years could also be considered as 'youth'.

Lucien: If you define it as having a love with someone close to you, that you can't bear to part with and always in your heart…

Lucien: In that case, I'd say my youth hasn't had a chance to slip away from me yet.

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

[Lux's short rambling corner]

And finally, it's done 🎉 If I'm being completely honest, the reason it took so long was because I felt that the end of this story seemed 'incomplete'—and I think it turns out to be true? Because the newest birthday story feels like it completes this story.

Still, just as he mentioned in "Distant Similarity UR' MQ," he's accustomed to working alone because there was no one he could confide in, often sacrificing his own sleep to fit more into his schedule. Due to his past self-reliance, he finds himself somewhat at a loss when others offer their assistance 🥲. He's someone who is deeply touched by even the smallest acts of kindness, and you can detect a hint of confusion in his usually monotone 'thank you.'

It's heartwarming to see that he receives small acts of kindness from those around him. His college life seems less hectic thanks to the support he gets from both his friendly seniors and caring mentor 🥺. I also enjoy their harmonious yet playful team dynamic, with Colt being my personal favorite because he reminds me of Fan Zihang, hahah.

Another noteworthy point is what Dr. Lawson mentioned about him being fundamentally an ordinary kid. I think it's accurate, because beneath his 'rush to move forward' demeanor, there's also a yearning for warmth and the opportunity to slow down.

In the dorm room without air conditioning on this autumn day, the ice cream seems to melt even faster than it would in the heat of summer.

I scoop up a spoonful of the slightly softened ice cream and put it in my mouth.

The taste of chocolate spreads with the coolness, it's sweeter than I had imagined.

God, I absolutely adore PG's writing and the beautiful metaphors they weave into the story. Through the story you can see how Lucien's barrier starts to melt by the warm atmosphere. And that's because he's an inherently lonely kid who also longs for warmth and mundane life. It's just too bad that the longing he had shattered in the face of his reality. If i had to describe what I feel when I read that sentence about the email, It'd be like waking up from a sweet dream, and now the sweet dream is tinted with layers of sadness🥲. The dream was over and he had no other choice but to bury his longing so deep.

Why the constant hurry? Because he had no choice but to grow faster than other kids; he didn't have the privilege to fail and try again. Why did he keep his distance from others? Perhaps because he doesn't want to experience another loss after his parents. Why didn't he go 'home'? Because at that time he didn't have anything that can be called a 'home'. Once he wakes up from this sweet but fleeting dream, the world he's diving into is even more treacherous than hell. So in the end, he kept his distance from others just as he said in Distant Similarity UR.

Distant Similarity UR," "Until Dawn R&S," and "Monochrome Scenery" together create a comprehensive picture of his 16-year-old self. "Distant Similarity UR" sheds light on how his college experiences influenced him and his reflections on that period. "Until Dawn R&S" delves into his narrative with BS and his ambitiousness. Meanwhile, "Monochrome Scenery" reveals his more 'human' side and the sense of his relaxed college life being a sort of 'vacation' amidst the long darkness in his life… Anyway, I want to write more but my schedule is tight with all the birthday translation 🤣 Perhaps if I have time I'd write a more comprehensive analysis. Thank you for reading!

[littlemerzoste]

Opposite effect

Notes: This was a draft that was kept in my notebook, something I imagined about my oc. My friend encouraged me to post, thanks for the push @lingering-42-long

Summary: Y/N is going to bring Miguel a snack, the problem is that he was out of control.

Y/N was again bringing Miguel a snack, this time it was a hamburger. She walked into his office and soon the door closed behind her. The young girl saw that Miguel was lying on the ground, panting. She walked to him and then touched his shoulder. Miguel didn't look right, but he jumped towards her, y/n managed to get a glimpse of his state, he had red eyes and his claws and fangs were exposed.

Y/n knew he used to take some kind of vaccine to control his impulses, but something had gone wrong. Before he bit her, the young woman threw the snack in his face and kicked him, managing to get away from him. He needed the vaccine, and she couldn't leave with him like that. The young woman ran to the main platform and then started to press some buttons, and soon she could see the vaccine starting to be prepared in the syringe. Miguel came after her again, and until he was ready, she had to run, jump and dodge Miguel's attacks. When it was finally ready, she picked it up and grabbed the syringe, at the same time, Miguel threw a web at her foot, pinning her to the ground. He again jumped at her and grabbed one of her hands. Miguel then bared his fangs and bit her neck. Y/n took this chance to give him the vaccine. Miguel kept his fangs on her neck, but when he regained consciousness, he lifted his face and looked at y/n, confused, not understanding what was happening. He felt her blood in his mouth, and then he looked at her, his eyes landing directly on the mark of his teeth sunk into her neck. He quickly asked for a new vaccine, as the venom from his fangs, if injected, paralyzed his victims. However, while the vaccine was being made to reverse the poison, he was abruptly pulled by y/n, who kissed him. He quickly pushed her away as she tried to grab him again. She was red in the face, her heart racing,little moans coming out of her mouth, low moans, not to mention she was trying to pronounce his name. He stopped for a second, the whole situation was a real danger. She was beneath him, he held one of her wrists while her free hand tightened on the muscles in his arm.

When the vaccine was ready, he took it, but at the same time, Y/n pulled him again, holding him by the back of the neck as she kissed him once more. Miguel took the opportunity to apply the vaccine to her while she was kissing him.

Miguel returned the kiss calmly while the vaccine took effect in her body. The young woman then stopped kissing him when she opened her eyes. The young woman looked at him, startled, and quickly pushed him away and ran away. The man sighed heavily as he ran his hands over his face. He didn't understand how the poison had such a contrary effect on her. She should be paralyzed... right?...

[fairytale-poll]

QUARTERFINAL ROUND, MATCH 3 OUT OF 4! FINALS FOR SET C!

Propaganda Under the Cut:

Skylla:

sapphic little mermaid with a happy ending. what's not to love. pretty art too (it's a graphic novel/webcomic, can be found for free online (legally)). she's sweet, she speaks sign language, she's brave.

Skylla is a mermaid who falls in love with a human. Since her language just sounds like screeching to humans she is taught sign language by Corinth, the girl she falls in love with. Eventually she decides she wants to go to the surface so she can be with Corinth. She loves hamburgers and also has a feisty streak. Corinth also has a shitty boyfriend that, as a condition of becoming human, she has to kill with a knife given to her by her sisters. She ends up not killing him because Corinth ask her to, but they end up being able to be together when Skylla asks her father to turn her into a mermaid because she was near death.First of all, sign language. Second of all, wlw. Third of all, slow burn.

Bug:

Their a bug that falls in love with a human they rescue and becomes human, but even when they don't get to keep their human body, they still get to be with their love. It's a sci-fi fairytale musical.

Little Mermaid meets Starship Troopers musical starring awesome puppets and the most trans coded main character ever. Please. Please vote Bug Starship I love him. Go watch Kick it Up a Notch from Starship. Go watch Status Quo from Starship. You will understand.

He's a bug and he lives in space on a bug planet but he really wants to be a starship ranger which you can only be if you are a human and then one day a spaceship lands on his planet and so he goes to an evil bug called Pincer who then helps him become a human. And Bug falls in love with a human on the spaceship and it's very sweet. The musical and storyline are based on the little mermaid story, the creators themselves called it "the little mermaid but in space". Bug wanting to be a human/a starship ranger and achieving that and falling in love with a human is very much like the little mermaid

Starship is a musical that can only be described as The Little Mermaid meets Starship Troopers. It follows Bug, an alien bug who dreams of being a Starship Ranger, a galactic explorer/soldier, but the rigid confines of bug society keeps him trapped in a job he hates. He reaches a Starship Ranger named February from the hive and immediately falls in love with her. In order to be with her and pursue his dream, he makes a deal with a giant scorpion named Pincer who through sci-fi bs gives him a human body. Near the end of the second act he sacrifices his human body and returns to his bug body, and saves the day and wins February's heart. It's truly the ultimate Little Mermaid. He has multiple songs, and his bug body is portrayed by a puppet!! Vote for Bug!!

“It's a big, big, universe So many dimensions And unanswered questions Not to mention Life What an invention Life There's no choice involved in what you are given One mind, one voice, one body to live in It's a short, small thing we lead With so much potential Pointless or essential Which one can I be? Where do I fit? Where do I stand? Who are they to say what I am? And how can I stay inside this awful world I know? I need a way out I need an escape I'd rather be dead than to live in this place I wish that something or someone could just take it all away Someone take me away” dear god….. can anybody hear me…. (song from starship)

They are the purest little mermaid adaptation done in the most unuque way. An alien insect gets turned into a human, a race he has always loved and admired, to be with the woman he fell in love with. Also just a great musical.

Bug's whole arc is so so in tune with that of the little mermaid. He is an alien who has fallen in love with humanity through a crashed spaceship and trades his place in the hive for a chance to be with both with the human he's falling for and to be a Starship Ranger. He body swaps with human in a cryogenic pod! It's literally sci-fi Little Mermaid!

[andy-wm]

My thoughts on SEVEN, both the song and the MV, and what it says about Jungkook.

About the song:

My biggest take away from the song is that Jungkook has total confidence in his ability to keep his partner satisfied and entertained. Daily. He also has a good reason to do heaps of laundry.

Also, he gets to say Fu@k a lot (always fun) and his pronunciation has really improved since he collabed with that disrespectful a$$hole who's name i won't bother to mention.

Seriously though, i hope his adulthood will finally sink in for the people who still try to keep him in babyville.

From a musical point of view, he does get to use those magnificent pipes he has, and use them well. The song flexes his vocal range and has lots of dynamic movement. And he gets to rap. I can see why he would have wanted to sing it.

About the MV:

I have a few observations about the mv and the relationship represented. I know it's meant to be lighthearted but that doesn't mean it shows us a healthy relationship so i'm gonna say my piece. Sorry if it's a downer, feel free to skip.

The power dynamic between JK's character and Sohee's character is what i find interesting.

She's totally in control of their narrative the whole way through.

At the start, she's angry and berating him and he's just listening, his head down. Very submissive. Most of the time his hands are in his lap or on the table while she's gesturing to herself and even throwing her hands up. The only time his energy is up. Is when he pulls her away from the falling debris.

She's getting up to leave halfway through his response, too. She doesnt really give him a chance to respond.

Even though he tries and tries to talk to her, she's dismissive, rolling her eyes, ignoring him, constantly walking away before he can finish what he's trying to tell her. At one point she pushes him so hard he falls backwards. He's repeatedly risking his personal well-being to get her to hear his side, but even then, he's still completely submissive. He brings her flowers, he walks three steps behind her, he tries to make her laugh to break the tension so she will listen.

Theres only one point at which he is assertive and that's at 2.55 when he gets around in front of her.

When he does eventually get her to stop and hear him out, he takes the role of a supplicant. She is very much in control of the outcome. She eventually offers her hand, and then basically hauls him along behind her. He is trotting along behind her like a scolded child.

I found it a little hard to watch because JK isn't an actor. Not because his acting is bad but becuase it's really him.

I could be way off, i admit that, but i honestly feel that his character is responding exactly as he himself would respond. He's soft and sweet and gentle, but dammit he believes in them! He's trying his best to placate her even though she is giving him NOTHING back.

I hate that it reminds me of that damn hamburger incident (he's is a sponge cake. Pls dont hurt him, world.)

Anywayyyyy....

My take away is 2 things.

First one is, throughout the MV his character is "fighting *for* the relationship", which is different from fighting within the relationship. He wants this problem they have to be solved, and he's prepared to do the work. Go, you Jungkook’s alter ego.

Second one is, despite a lot of people seeing this as a,stalker situation, the power balance is very heavily weighted towards her. Also, she treats him pretty disrespectfully. If these gender roles were reversed, the comments would be very interesting...

Other than that i loved the aesthetic, the humour, and the energy.

But what does this overtly hereronormative MV tell us about Jungkook's sexual orientation?

I'll say it does not tell us anything about who he likes to do the horizontal boogie with.

He liked the song, and wanted to record it. I have no idea if he had any hand in the MV storyline. If he did, awesome. It's fun.

But let's be real about the likelihood of him coming out to the world through a MV. I'd say it's ZERO. Reality dictates that whatever his own orientation, the MV needed to represent the Jungkook (most of) the world WANTS to see. Dont forget, this song is more of a business decision than a creative decision for Hybe. We know SB had a big part in the processs, and that man is all about the dollar bills.

It's certainly not a personal statement from JK. Its a fun, summer song and he gets to say F◇CK a lot and flex his vocal chops. That's it.

Do i personally think JK is gay? Hell yeah. With bells on.

Do i think he would risk it all?? ('it' being a huge entertainment empire, his own and his friends' careers, social damnation, personal freedom, and the loss of his contact with ARMY)

No, absolutely not. Not for a song that he didn't even write. Not in his solo debut. Not in today's America (sorry American readers, the USA isn't a safe place to be queer right now).

An unrelated question:

Do i think he will show us something more substantial with his album?

I think he will. I truly hope so. I dont think he's going to sing about his orientation but i do think the songs will be meaningful and personal and I'll be quite suprised if there isn't a fair bit of queer subtext.

If he includes a hidden track and Jimin features on it, I will throw a party and sprinkle glitter EVERYWHERE.

Just for fun, here's some JK looking gorgeously gay...

Living his best life in the Butter MV

His gestures... so pretty

No words for this one (cr to photographer)

I mean he's not wrong...

[mysticstarlightduck]

Big OC Questionnaire!

Gonna answer this one before I start today's writing session so here we go! Thanks for the tag, @the-golden-comet (here)!

Let's go with Adrien Rosetrom and Luke Katt (my ANGSTY bois who I adore) from my WIP Scrapyard Boys for this one! (:

What is your favorite thing to do to avoid responsibility?

Adrien - Eh, that one's pretty easy to answer dude. I just hole up in my apartment, lock the door, turn off the notifications on my phone, and then drink and smoke myself mindless while watching whatever's on TV. Sometimes I like watching the phone ring while not answering it just out of spite, that's fun. And if anyone I don't know tries to interrupt my peace they'll have a very sudden meeting with my baseball bat, if you get what I'm saying.

Luke - I just run off somewhere else until whoever or whatever I'm trying to avoid forgets about me or the dust settles. But that's only in more extreme cases - like if the cops are trying to get me or some gang wants to square up. Otherwise, I'm usually pretty responsible - I mean, I have to be, or else who the fuck is gonna take care of my little brother, or make sure my friends don't do some stupid shit again?

If you could choose anyone in the world to be your sibling who would it be?

Adrien - Don't even ask me that, dude (laughs bitterly). I've already got two half-siblings crashing at my apartment who show no intent on leaving me alone, I don't need anyone else leeching off my patience. (Begrudgingly) Fine, I actually do care for the two ankle-biters but don't let them find out or I'll never hear the end of it, dumbshit.

Luke - I'm not sure. Riley's my little brother and I would do anything to keep him safe - I've killed to protect him before, and I would do it again, even though it landed me in juvie for two years before I broke out. Valen - my best friend - and the other members of our little gang of chaos are also kinda like siblings to me by now, if I'm being fully honest, so there you have it.

What is the most sublime thing you have ever eaten and why?

Adrien - Sublime?! I'm not exactly an expert in high-cuisine, my dude. Most of my diet consists of like... cheap hamburgers, pizza, or nuggets. And a truckload of energy drinks. I guess a good dish of spaghetti with red sauce or a strawberry cupcake is as close as I'm gonna get to eating something "sublime." (chuckles)

Luke - I dunno, I know how to cook quite well but I rarely have like, the time and patience for it. I like microwave lasagna and chocolate cake covered with ganache, which are respectively my favorite dish and my favorite dessert, but that's about it.

What was the worst day of your life?

Adrien - I'm gonna be honest with you real quick: if I were going to answer that question in detail we would still be here talking this at this day and time next week. In short? Pretty much the majority of my days since I was kicked out, though the specific day I was kicked out of home and whenever my current boss decides to get too uh... handsy, for lack of a more 'family-friendly' word, are the runner-ups for Top 1 worst days of my life for sure.

Luke - I know most folks would expect the day I killed my abusive godfather to be the Number 1 Worst Day in my life but if I'm being frank... I kinda enjoyed it? Like really got a kick out of it (smiles widely). I know it sounds twisted and kinda insane to say, but I mean, the fucker had it coming, and knowing that he would never hurt Riley ever again was worth all the struggles that followed. I guess the actual worst day of my life was the day that followed when I was arrested and taken away from my little brother - but hey, I got out, and we're together again! So I say it was worth it.

What’s your worst nightmare?

Adrien - Being trapped in that fucking nightclub forever or being unable to pay off my debt to Zander so I can finally be free without fearing that the mob would skin me alive and feed me to the fishes. And as much as I hate admitting it - I guess now I kinda fear the twins will follow in my footsteps and end up hurt by my boss. It's kinda weird for me to admit and it does trip me out to think about how much I did change. Yeah, I know, I'm that pathetic.

Luke - Losing Riley and our friends, or them getting hurt in some way that I would be unable to heal them with my powers. And I don't fucking care who I have to kill to keep that from happening (laughs)

If a monster asked you your worst nightmare what would you tell it and why?

Adrien - Hell nah, man. I don't need anyone having that kinda power over me and my family, I know how that story ends and it ends with whoever was stupid enough to tell someone else their fears dead in a ditch. Not for me, pal! And let's say, if someone tried to use my fears against me, I would probably make their worst fear come true in the worst way possible, trust me on that.

Luke - Oh the 'monster' would have to spend a fucking fortune to recover from the damage I would do to them. You know I've done it before.

Would you give away secret information if tortured? Be honest.

Adrien - Honestly, I don't think I would give a damn either way but if that information was that important my captors would have one hell of a struggle getting it out of me - I'd probably lead them on with false hope that I'll talk and then don't say shit just so see the look on their faces, like, just to spite them and watch them losing their shit.

Luke - (chuckles darkly) Oh, how I'd love to see them try. If I'm going down, I'm taking their sanity with me, that's for sure.

Who could you trust most with a secret?

Adrien - Myself, and even then like... with a considerable, healthy concern, because you never know!

Luke - Probably my best friend, Valen - I know he would follow me to the depths of hell if need be, and I would do the same for him without a second thought. While I do trust Riley unconditionally, I'm not sure I wanna burden a twelve-year-old with the kind of secrets I keep, y'know.

You have been caught somewhere you shouldn’t be! Quick, what is your excuse?

Adrien - Dude, as if someone would be able to find me. If people were catching me slacking like that, I wouldn't be alive talking to ya right now, given the kind of company I usually keep. So in short: I'm almost always sneaking somewhere I shouldn't, but no one has caught me yet. That I know of.

Luke - Only like, all the time! Me and my friends are just that kind of trouble. Usually, I don't really make up an excuse, I just go "Oh, would you look at the time -", stun whoever found me, and just like, haul ass in the furthest direction as soon as possible.

How good is your sleep schedule?

Adrien - That'd better be a joke because my man you don't wanna know the answer to that. I'm a stripper working for the mob, do the math yourself how fucked up my whole schedule is at night. I usually go home at like, 3AM, on good days, crash on the couch, wake up sometime in the mid-morning if insomnia doesn't come to haunt me, down like three bottles of energy drinks and a cheap coffee, and then rinse and repeat the next day. If I sleep at all.

Luke - It's pretty good, especially when compared to some people I know. I go to sleep at like, 11PM, or 10.30PM, then sleep a solid 6 to 8 hours every day before waking up early. My powers require a lot of rest to recharge, and what kinda healer would I be if I didn't know how to take care of my own body?

Do you have any siblings?

Adrien - Already answered that but alright: I have two, half-siblings. They're twins who might as well be two gremlins coming to haunt my waking life. One's a boy, Rhys, and he's nice and all if his ideas didn't almost give me one heart attack per week, and the other one - the dangerously quiet one that is almost always up to some shady shit if she's out of sight - is a girl named Gwyn. Yes, I regret every life choice that led me to this situation and I'll probably end up grey before thirty.

Luke - Only one biological one, Riley - he's twelve. If you count my best friends then the list gets much longer, haha.

What’s the toughest time you had to endure growing up?

Adrien - Oh my time living old hag of a grandmother wasn't exactly paradise, putting it lightly. The nicest thing she and my grandfather ever did to me was kicking me out of the house at fifteen - and that led to a whole other hellish chapter.

Luke - Oh, you can take your pick. Being orphaned, moving in with our abusive, toxic bitch of a godmother and her husband, having to kill said husband when he got drunk and tried to hurt my kid brother (which would have probably killed Riley if I wasn't there), being arrested, breaking out of jail, helping Riley escape from that woman's house, then finally finding some friends and getting a semblance of normalcy.

What’s your relationship with your family like?

Adrien - Eh. Mother dearest dropped me off with my grandparents, then I got kicked out, and years later my estranged teenage half-siblings broke into my apartment one night and were like "Hey dude! We'll live with you now!". So yeah. Complicated is an understatement, huh.

Luke - Didn't really have a family other than Riley, though now, I would say that our group of friends are actually the closest thing to a real family we've ever had. They're great and honestly, I'm glad we met them!

Do you have any hobbies? If so, what ones?

Adrien - Watching TV, listening to music, sleeping. Drinking energy drinks. Smoking. Wandering around in the city thinking about what the fuck I'm doing with my life and having a breakdown --

Y'know, the usual.

Luke - I like sneaking into the movies when I can. I also love skateboarding, dancing, and playing the guitar. Oh, and watching those funny morning cartoons on TV, while eating cereal!

Do you dream often?

Adrien - Most nights, though they're usually not the coolest dreams. I usually wake up and like, turn on the TV to drown it out until I collapse back to sleep.

Luke - Eh, not really. And when I do I usually don't really remember them or they are just the... most unhinged, concerning, weirdest dreams that leave me thinking "Yep, I have seriously issues, huh" when I wake up, haha.

What do you dream about?

Adrien - Uh - Nope! Not answering that one for the sake of your peace of mind and what's left of my own pride.

Luke - When I do remember? Man, stuff like - a T-Rex dancing ballet while hopping in multicolored clouds in the sky, or some kind of weird gremlin creature following me through a musty hallway while singing "Peanut Butter Jelly Time!". Now you get what I meant by concerning?

Have you ever been in love?

Adrien - Romance is the oldest lie of all time, my friend, and its not one I'm that keen to fall for either. I'm gonna fall in love for what? To get disappointed? Nah, man, I'm good.

Luke - Not really, like in real life and stuff. I had a crush on some movie stars and pop singers when I was younger, but that's just teenage dreams, haha. I actually really want to meet someone I would fall in love with in real life, as cheesy as that sounds! I may be a killer, but I'm a killer who still wants a fairytale wedding with someone just as weird as me.

What is your least favorite thing in the world?

Adrien - Sex with strangers. The mob. My boss. People who put their hands where they don't belong because they're drunk and apparently I'm "supposed to like it". Stupid fuckers who bully others. Just the usual.

Luke - Abusive people. Rich people who think they can do whatever they want to others who are not as rich as them. The police and the shitty government of this shitty city.

What is your pet peeve?

Adrien - People who aren't hygienic or are just like... downright nasty and clearly need a good shower. Loud music. I also kinda hate how Gwyn chooses to watch a cheesy stand up comedy show on my TV at full blast in the morning and eating those crunchy potato chips on my couch which causes the crumbs to be everywhere, because -- FUCK'S SAKE SHE'S AT IT AGAIN HOLD ON - (gets up, running to his living room done with life)

Luke - People who don't look me - or others - in the eye while talking or who keep checking their smartwatch or phone in the middle of the conversation and then just answer you like "uhuh" or "yeah, that's wild". Like, yeah Karen, I'm fucking aware you didn't hear a single word that left my mouth and the fact I wasted five minutes trying to talk to you makes me wanna strangle that bad haircut out of your head.

Would you consider yourself different?

Adrien - Different than what? Everyone's unique in their own way. And I ain't about to be no "pick-me" dude that's always like "Oh, I'm so quirky, look how different I am from all the other bland humans", or like dramatically, "I'm just weird, you wouldn't get me". Hell nah.

Luke - I guess I am kinda different than most teens my age. Because like, let's be honest, who else do you know that has killed someone at fourteen, has extreme regeneration powers, and undermines the government with a group of other fucked up teenagers? Though I don't know if this is a good or bad thing, that's too philosophical of a question to answer.

How far would you go to save a loved one?

Adrien - I may be a heartless bitch but I would actually go pretty damn far to keep those twins safe. Like, for example - hypothetically: Does the mob want to "upgrade" my job from stripper to whore in exchange for their safety? Uncomfortable but yeah, fine, I'd do it. Do I need to beat up someone who is threatening my siblings? Oh, yeah, that someone is gonna wake up with their face smushed in by my baseball bat. Do I need to blackmail a billionaire who basically owns the country (this one I actually did so its not hypothetic)? Sure, I've done weirder shit before.

So you get the idea. I may be vicious, but I ain't disloyal.

Luke - I've killed a man with my bare hands, and I would do it again, and again, and again, if I needed to. And I don't regret it one bit. Do I need to say more? (smiles dangerously, with that feral guard dog aura to him)

Would you team up with your worst enemy if it was your only option?

Adrien - I kinda already do that every day already, so yeah, sure. Fuck it, we'll be besties and braid each other's hair if I get to live another day, I don't give a shit.

Luke - Oh hell no, I'd rather they just put a bullet through my brains than ever team up with those fuckers.

What is the worst insult you can give?

Adrien - I already swear like a sailor on a daily basis, so I have a pretty wide dictionary of insults. But I ain't sure what would be the worst one, and I don't got enough time to figure that out either.

Luke - (Tilts his head, with a smirk) I think littering their body with wounds using my power would get the message across better than any words ever could, don't you think?

What is the nicest thing someone could say to you?

Adrien - I dunno. Like, I'm not a sentimental kinda dude, but I think I would be pretty fucking happy if someone just acknowledged that I'm doing my best. I think hearing an earnest, "Hey, dude, you matter to me!" with no strings attached actually would be pretty nice.

Luke - I'm not quite sure (chuckles awkwardly). I guess that just being loyal and kind and spending quality time with me - just like, actually being there when I need someone, would matter more to me than any words ever could.

Are you a jealous person?

Adrien - Oh hell yeah, you bet your ass I am!

Luke - Not really. I don't like being betrayed or deceived, but other than that I think I'm a pretty chill dude. I'd hate to be overbearing.

Have you ever committed a crime?

Adrien - Yeah, all the time. How else would I get by in this stupid rathole of a city I'm stuck in huh? And working for the mob, committing crimes kinda does come with the territory, in a way.

Luke - (laughs drily) Are you seriously asking me that question?

Are you neat or messy?

Adrien - I ain't got the time or patience to be organized, so I guess messy it is. Not dirty though, I hate dirt. Just chaotically disorganized.

Luke - I guess I'm pretty organized, now that I think about it. Not over-the-top, interior designer-like organized, but at least a bit above the bare minimum most days.

How do you feel about crying? Let it out or hold it in?

Adrien - Cry? Nah. I just hold it in like a pressure cooker, laugh it off, drink my sorrows away until I collapse on the floor of my kitchen, wake up with the worst hangover of my life, and then be like "Let's go get some fast food!" like nothing happened.

Luke - It's normal and healthy, I just don't do it very often or in front of others. I like to be the rock they can rely on, and so I usually don't.... burden them with my feelings unless I have to. I cry quite often when I'm alone and the stress gets to me.

Who do you live for? Why?

Adrien - Myself, because throughout this shitty life, I've been pretty much the only one I can trust. (sighs) And yeah, fine, now I live for the twins too, because like it or not I really fucking care about those two gremlins, probably more than I should.

Luke - For my little brother, Riley, and our group of friends.

What style of accessories do you wear? Is it willingly?

Adrien - I like sunglasses, earrings, actual rings, and occasionally a necklace or two. I also like simple makeup - not the glittery one that makes my eyes water with allergies and Zander likes so fucking much - just like, eyeliner, nail polish, lip gloss. I may be broke but I like to look stylish when I can. My personal style is willing. The gaudy and glittery accessories and persona I put on for Zander's stupid show? That shit's not really willing but I don't get a choice, now do I?

Luke - I have a lot of tattoos, most of them on my arms. I also love wearing metal rings with cool designs, and leather and plastic bracelets, and I have a few, small ear piercings. It's willing, and I like having control of my style. It gives me certainty about my personality and I adore that.

Tagging (gently): @sleepy-night-child, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @smol-feralgremlin, @oh-no-another-idea, @littleladymab,

@winterandwords, @eccaiia, @sarahlizziewrites, @illarian-rambling

@agirlandherquill, @anoelleart, @ray-writes-n-shit

@writernopal, @anyablackwood, @unstablewifiaccess, @forthesanityofstorytellers, @finickyfelix

@i-can-even-burn-salad, @cakeinthevoid,

@lassiesandiego, @thepeculiarbird, @clairelsonao3, @memento-morri-writes, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams

@wyked-ao3 and OPEN TAG

[oceansand-tides]

Hello Citizens and friends! It is, Tide, hero to Prime! I enjoy talking about my boys (who, from what I know, are already on here), making beef stroganoff, and am overall here to have a good time! Please be respectful to me to my boundaries and such and I think we'll get along great!

I use he/they mainly, but anything works! Have fun with it!

That's all from me for now, I'll see you all around soon I hope!

[Image ID: A banner that says: ‘To break free from the JRWI RP industrial complex, feel free to block the ‘#just role(play) with it’ tag. End Image ID.]

(long ooc shit below)

hello everyone! its the new person behind tide, this used to be a longer thign which i didnt like so we cut it down but before we get into me:

profile art is from twitter from user WrldsAtlas (link below)

BASICS BEFORE TAGS: the old tide blog isnt connected to this one, pfp arts not ours go check out the artist, if you wanna use our ooc pronouns ask, this blog contains spoilers, were gonna hc him

OKAY TAG TIME

#injected and forgetted - ooc

#the prime defending team! - talking to the boys (will, ashe, kota, or vyn)

#hamburger helping! - interactions generally/not with pd

#waving at the shore - in character

#uncorking your words - asks

final thing if you think youve seen me (cheri, not linking main) around, you might have, and we have an rp blog list for you to check if youd like