#i've spent all day thinking about these cars' musical tastes

[carmyboobear]

ALEXITHYMIA CH 1: onions, weed, and pizza

Roommate AU: Carmy Berzatto x Reader (R18)

ao3 link ch 2 ch 3 ch 4

Summary: Carmy can’t put into words how he feels about his roommate. It’s only been a couple months, but here he is looking forward to going home and sharing a smoke with them. That’s all it is, though. There are no underlying feelings, none at all, even if everyone around him has something to say about it. 

Or: Carmy is repressed as ever, but through the combined power of vulnerability, weed, and the horny, Carmy too can find love. 

Tags: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn, cursing, yearning, repression, SO MUCH REPRESSION, angst, mental illness, canon-typical imagery, unresolved tension, for now, virgin carmy, use of weed, alcohol, all that good stuff, carmy character study, eventual smut, gender neutral reader, nonbinary reader, up to you

A/N: HI I've never posted fic on tumblr before but i deeply love Carmy...please enjoy!!!

CHAPTER 1: onions, weed, and pizza

It always stays the same. 

This is the thought that Carmy has when he wakes up, gasping for a chance to just catch his breath and keep it. It’s a kitchen knife twisting like a lock and key in his chest. It fits just right, as all awful and familiar things seem to do.

No matter how many times he wakes up, he’s never anywhere different. That drowning feeling suffocates him in his sleep and follows dutifully into his waking hours. He can’t remember when that haunting started, only that it’s always been with him.

He hates feeling like a drifter, like he’s lost (even though he is both of those things), so he picks a goal and runs after it like a monster. He’s an animal, hunting and working and bleeding until he fucking makes it work , because that’s who he is, and that’s who he’s always been. He can’t not make it work. Because if he can’t do it, then…then what was it all for? 

What is he even for?

These are the thrilling thoughts that serve as the background music to the swirl of his cheap morning coffee, oils rotating in a slow circle. He thinks about getting a nicer brand next time he goes grocery shopping. But that would mean change. That would mean less money on the restaurant, too.

Yeah, so it tastes like shit, but it doesn’t matter. Even if it mattered once. Less and less matters to him these days.

Mornings in Chicago are not technically quiet by definition, but when compared to other times of day, they are. Especially when most of his day is spent in the kitchen wringing out his throat. It isn’t bad to have a quiet morning by normal means, but for him…

The quiet is dangerous.

It’s not silent, but it’s not enough. There’s distant beeping of impatient cars. The whirring sound of the old AC unit. He tries to listen to them, but his rampant thoughts nonetheless rise above them all, buzzing everywhere with nowhere to land. 

A brief analysis of his thoughts reads as such:

Beef sandwiches eggs flour shipment Michael cigarettes smoking sore throat late shipment so tired not sleeping Michael Sugar Mom coffee tastes bad it’s too early my stomach hurts Michael fucking hates you Michael Michael Michael Michael Michael you piece of shit you fucking ki—

“Mornin’, Carmy.”

Until his roommate wakes up, that is. 

When he moved back to Chicago, there was a fact, plain, simple, and unchanging. He wasn’t gonna make rent on his own, not with the restaurant. Not with everything. So maybe he didn’t need to deal with a new roommate, but it’s not like there was a choice. It seemed bearable, survivable enough.

He keeps waiting for the thing that’ll make him grit his teeth, make him regret not getting a place on his own, but it never comes. They’re easy to live with. It’s so easy, as a matter of fact, that it feels strange. The difficulty that he was so certainly expecting just isn’t there. 

If anything, he looks forward to being at home. For someone who lives at work, that feeling is completely foreign.  

They don’t steal his food (not that there’s much). Instead, they cook him food, leaving heated leftovers on the stove on late nights. In Carmy’s case, that’s most nights. They don’t bring over obnoxious company and keep him up with the noise. Rather, he basks in their company, and they make a ruckus between their laughter. Their presence doesn’t stifle him, it soothes him, just like the candle they leave lit in the kitchen for him when he comes home.  They’re not just easy to live with, they’re good to live with, and that’s…

That’s been a hard adjustment, Carmy would say. It’s too much of a good thing that he’s not sure what to do with himself.

On those late nights, they’re usually fast asleep by the time he’s home. But as he sits and eats the leftovers they’ve kept for him, he wants to say something. Something about how a long time ago, there was once a Carmy who cooked for himself, who looked after himself, but that he’s not that Carmy anymore. That it doesn’t matter that he’s a five star chef and they’re just some guy in the kitchen, as they would put it, because he’s…

He’s grateful. Incredibly so.

And yet, the words will never come out. He feels the words tingling on his lips, but it feels scary. He can thank them as many times as he likes (which he does) but it will never capture what he’s really trying to say when he says thank you . There’s too many words, and it just can’t…it just can’t—

It always stays the same. 

“You’re up early,” he says to them when they enter the room. It’s a rare sight to see them up at the early hours he frequents. He sees the morning drowsiness in their mussed hair and big t-shirt stained with hair dye. They yawn back at him, nose scrunching.

Cute , he thinks, and he stamps it down as soon as it flashes through his mind. 

“Randomly woke up.” They fall into the empty seat next to him on the couch, and they rub at the crust around their eyes. “About to head off to work?”

“Unfortunately, yeah,” he replies. There’s a certain sentiment that lies on the tip of his tongue, something about how he wishes he could have a slow morning with them instead. Of course, he can’t voice it. He can’t even come close.

“The plague of the working man,” they sigh. “Well, I got an idea that might cheer you up.”

“...And that would be?”

“Let me paint you a beautiful picture,” they start. They clear their throat and gesture widely with their hands. He notices their chipped nail polish, the writing callus on their middle finger. “Imagine this—you come home from work, tired. You need to relax —something you need to do more often,” they add with a pointed look.  No comment. “And I have dinner ready. Some sort of soup, pasta maybe. I need to check the fridge.” They pause with a yawn. “And before we eat, we smoke a big, fat joint.”

He snorts as they finish, unable to hold back a laugh. 

“That’s a nice picture,” he admits. He doesn’t remember when he started smiling. “Y’know, I was wondering when the joint was gonna pop in.” 

“You fucking know me, man,” they reply, blooming with his interest, his smile. Not that he can perceive that. “So? Thoughts? Haven’t done that in a while, right?”

“Right, right,” he echoes faintly. His mind is already sorting through the pile of tasks on the schedule. “Well, I gotta go over this new recipe with Marcus, today,” he mutters, partially under his breath. “But before that, ingredient orders. And those invoices before the end of the day—and that, that toilet guy was supposed to come today…I think?”

“Dude, I do like, one task, and the day’s over for me,” they say sympathetically, and the look on their face is so serious that Carmy struggles to hide his smile. “You’re crazy.”

“I, I’ve seen you do tasks,” he argues. 

“Name one,” they argue back.

“You did two loads of laundry and did the dishes all before lunch time once,” he says, the memory clear and instant. “And when I woke up, you were vacuuming the whole place.” The immediacy surprises him, and it seems to surprise them, too. 

“Damn, I said name one , but I guess I’m just that good!” They laugh, a breathy, exasperated sort of thing. “Well, point taken. Anyway, it sounds like you’re not gonna be home early tonight.” 

“It is a Friday,” he says, “but…”

“But.”

“Can’t make promises I can’t keep,” he sighs, and shame melts over him like butter on a stainless steel pain. This isn’t anything new. 

“I know, I know,” they say, gracious as ever. “It’s okay. Such is the life of a business owner, yeah?” He searches for some thinly veiled shred of disappointment, frustration in their expression, but he doesn’t. No matter how many times he lets them down, the explosion he’s waiting for never comes. They remain patient, collected through it all. 

Says more about him than them, he supposes. 

“Yeah,” he mutters, “such is the life.” 

“C’est la fucking vie,” they say, and he laughs with a shake of his head. 

It can feel strange to laugh. He worries that the lightness in his chest will expand like a balloon, and he’ll float away. It’s uncontrollable, foreign. It should be scary, how his emotions lead him when he’s around them, not the other way around, but it’s not. 

It’s not scary to loosen up around them, and that’s the scary part. There are no words to describe why. All he can see is that the fear exists, stubborn and persistent. That fear is what makes him snap out of it, makes him look at the clock. He holds back a sigh. 

“Time to go,” he mutters, and they nod.

“And time for me to go back to bed.” They salute him. “Best of luck with your day, brave soldier. And just shoot me a text if you do end up coming back early, ok?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll try. And, thanks. You, you too,” he gets out. He stands up, readjusting the waistband of his pants. “I’ll, uh, see you later.”

“See you,” they say through a yawn, waving at him from where they’re lying down. They’ve taken his spot, sprawled across the couch, tangled hair flayed out on the pillows. 

Cute , he thinks again, and hearing the thought in his brain makes him wanna panic. 

He doesn’t wanna panic, doesn’t wanna think about it at all, so he nods, shuts the door, and heads out to work with a cigarette hastily lit in his mouth. 

By the time it’s Carmy’s lunch break, he swears his vocal cords must have snapped by how tight he was wringing them. 

The soreness has never stopped him from lighting a cig, though. As he stands outside in the back, finally forced to go on his 30, he smokes rather than eating. There’s a sandwich in his pocket, one that was bearing the brunt of test ingredients. He can feel the aluminum wrapping at his fingertips. 

Eventually, he does eat, though, because he sees the way his hands are shaking when he flicks his lighter. He doesn’t wanna shake when he uses a knife, so he eats. He tastes it, but he doesn’t really taste it.

In truth, he wasn’t even planning on taking his lunch break at all. Most days, he forgets about it. The kitchen’s always busy, there’s always something missing, there’s always something that hasn’t been prepped that’s ruining everything, the lights in the hallways keep flickering because they need to fixed, Fak’s supposed to fix them, but he can’t, because Richie’s still out getting the replacement bulbs, the pile of papers on his desk are bigger than he remembers, he doesn’t have enough fucking time—

But then he’s in the middle of chopping an onion, and the cutting board slips. The half-chopped onion and its sliced offspring scatter on the floor with the cutting board. The sound of its fall draws Sydney in like a whip. 

“You okay? Need a bandaid?” Sydney’s already kneeling by him, helping him pick the onions off the floor. 

“I, I’m fine, didn’t drop the knife,” he explains, and it feels like an ocean current is rushing by his ears. “Fucking, I just—such a stupid fucking—” He sucks in a breath and goes silent. 

His entire body feels tight, wound like a spring. He can barely fucking breathe. 

“Hey.” Carmy turns his intense stare from the onions to Sydney, and when he sees her searching expression, he remembers himself. “Maybe you should go take your lunch break.”

“No, I’m fine, really,” he repeats, and he feels like he’s heard this before. From someone else. He can’t remember. Who was it? “The onions—we’re behind on onions—”

“I can handle onions for 30 minutes,” she interrupts, decisive and firm. “Seriously.”

Carmy’s about to say something, but then he’s looking at the onion half in his hand. His hand is shaking. 

“Okay,” he sighs after a beat. “Okay, yeah. Sorry. For fucking up.”

“It happens. We all have our moments.” She shrugs. When he keeps standing there, she makes this shoo-ing motion with her hand. “Go on. Take your 30!”

So here he is, taking his lunch break a whole hour later than he’s supposed to. Although it’s better than most days where he doesn’t take it at all.

She wouldn’t have had to tell you to take a break if you didn’t fuck it all up, he thinks to himself, eyebrows knitted together. When the last time I’ve fucked up something so fucking easy?

He thinks about his dream from last night. A familiar sight of red fire and flames up to the ceiling, crackling so loud it sounded like screaming. The only good part is that when he woke up, he wasn’t at the stove burning his place down. It hasn’t happened at this apartment yet. Carmy hopes it never happens. 

Just get it together, he thinks. He aggressively taps the ash out onto the decrepit ash tray they have in the back. It’s full. You’re supposed to be at this shit. So just be good.

“Cousin.” Carmy snaps his head up, and Richie’s at the door, stepping out. His presence yanks him out of his inner whirlpool, a quickly descending spiral. “Gimme one.”

Wordlessly, Carmy hands him a cigarette. Richie plucks it out of his hand like a flower.

“You had a lighter, but no cigarette?” Carmy comments, squinting at Richie pulling a busted up red lighter from his jean pocket. 

“Shut up,” Richie mutters, but there’s no heat behind it. “Got the wrong damn light bulbs,” he explains unprompted. 

“Alright,” Carmy sighs. He has so little energy that the frustration bypasses him completely, diving instantly into deflated acceptance. “Just return ‘em.”

“Can’t,” Richie says, and when Carmy gives him a look, he elaborates, “no receipt.” 

“ Dude .” Carmy opens his mouth, but then he shuts it again. It’s just not worth it. “Thanks anyway, cousin. We’ll get it done.”

“Don’t fuckin’ thank me, you asshole. I didn’t do shit.” Richie nudges him, but like before, it’s not an angry thing. “Also, toilet guy’s not comin’ today.”

“The fuck? Why ?”

“Canceled,” he replies simply. 

“Fucking hell,” Carmy mutters under his breath. “Did he say when he could reschedule?”

“Not yet.”

“Great.”

“Yep.” Richie tilts his head up, blowing out a slow stream of gray cigarette smoke. “Might as well wait for Fak to get his ass back in town at this rate.”

“I guess.” Carmy sighs. He thinks about all the things he still needs to do. “I dropped this onion I was chopping, earlier,” he mentions out of nowhere. 

“Okay.” Richie gives him a look. “And? You bitches chop those things up faster than I could cut one in half.” 

“I dropped it on the floor,” Carmy tries again, but Richie’s expression remains unchanged. “I never do shit like that.”

“Well, cousin, you did.” Carmy feels something in him deflate. “What’s the big deal?”

“Nevermind,” he replies, because he’s a coward. “Just—just forget it.”

Silence. The spark of a lighter. 

“I’m gonna leave early,” Richie says, like he can just do that. Which…he can, Carmy supposes. “If no one’s gonna show up, what’s the point?” He slaps Carmy’s back, and Carmy doesn’t watch him as he heads back inside. 

Guess all I need to do later is get rid of those papers on the desk , Carmy thinks to himself, idly moving the shortening cigarette between his lips. Then that’ll be it, I guess.

He doesn’t remember the last time he’s gone home early. It’s hard to even imagine what he does on days like those. Sleeping, probably.  There’s nothing much else for him to do, not with how tired he is—

Shoot me a text, okay?  

He hears them in the back of his head all of a sudden, and he remembers. 

Oh, he remembers, hands moving to take out his phone. Almost forgot.

“Sorry to bother you, chef.” Carmy’s not sure how he didn’t hear the door opening. Marcus’ head pops out, nose covered in flour. “Just wanted to let you know that we’re gonna need more flour for tomorrow.”

“Order’s not gonna come for a couple days. I thought we had an extra bag left,” Carmy tries, but the guilty look on Marcus’ face explains it all. 

“Dropped it,” Marcus grimaces, and Carmy’s already fucking over it. 

“We’re all fucking up today, chef,” Carmy replies, and the day goes on. 

. . . . .

It’s a strange, delightful miracle, but he manages to get out of the restaurant before the sun sets.

Considering their collective track record, the fact everyone was able to leave early was cosmic intervention. It helps that the toilet guy didn’t come, in an unfortunate way, but still. Standing outside of the restaurant in the evening like this feels…weird. 

It’s not that Carmy’s complaining about a nice thing, it’s just that he wasn’t prepared to have anything good today.

Shower, dinner, and weed, he thinks absentmindedly on the way home. He juggles the three around in his brain. Just the thought of it feels like relaxing. A little.

With company , his brain helpfully adds, and his stomach squirms. 

Self control, he thinks. He needs more self-control. He can’t just keep thinking of them so indulgently. He’s not allowed to think of them that way, because it’s not fair to them. Even if no matter how many times he chastises himself, it never works. Even if they remain in his brain like sun-spots in his vision. Even if it’s not his fault that he just can’t help it.

The thing is, though, it always is. Even when it’s not his fault, it actually is. Always.

You dropped that fucking onion , his brain helpfully adds for no particular reason. Fucking loser.

Fuck off , he thinks back as he approaches his front door. Predictably, it does not stop.

Just as his fingers search for his keys in all of his pockets, he hears something that makes him pause, hands stopped on his waist. It’s music, distant and muffled. They’re probably listening to music in the kitchen. He stands, trying to place the song, but he doesn’t recognize it. 

He does recognize the voice that’s singing over the music, though.

Oh, he realizes. That’s them.

The way their voice clumsily layers over the music shouldn’t make him pause like this. He shouldn’t be doing this, standing in the doorway and listening rather than opening the door. The keys are in his hand. This, this is a breach of privacy, he tells himself, feeling a little dizzy with distress, he just needs to just—

There’s an abrupt, loud clang, and he shoves the door open.

Concern is on the tip of his tongue, but it dies there. The source of the noise lays face-down on the floor—a pan sitting in what seems to be tomato sauce. The matter next to it is what makes the words evaporate from his lips, like they were never there at all. 

They’re kneeled down next to the pan, paper towels in hand, but all they’re wearing is an apron. 

His mind blanks. He thinks he stops breathing. He’s never seen so much of their skin at once. He needs to look away, he thinks, but his eyes keep traveling, traveling, and traveling. It just happens so quickly. He doesn’t mean to look, he doesn’t, but they’re right there and he can see right down their—

“No, I—I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were coming back early!” They exclaim, quickly crossing their arms over their chest, and that’s what makes him tear his eyes away. 

“I—I thought I texted you,” he says quickly, hot face turned to the side, “on my lunch—...“ He stops there, the memory reconstructing itself. 

He forgot.

“It’s fine, I just feel bad about dinner, and, uh—okay, I’m just gonna change real quick, and then I’ll clean this up,” they reply, words rushing out. In the corner of his vision, he sees their bare legs dart to their room.

It seems wrong to just stand here staring at the tomato sauce slowly expand outwards on the floor, so he cleans it up. A couple paper towels later, he’s gotten most of it, and they’ve returned with a change of clothes.

“Sorry,” Carmy starts right as they also go “I’m sorry”. He pauses, meeting their eyes. It’s a lot easier now that they’re wearing leggings and a t-shirt as opposed to, well, nothing. Not to say he doesn’t appreciate the leggings. 

“Sorry you had to see me like that,” they sigh. “I don’t—I don’t usually walk around the place naked, I just—I didn’t think you’d be back—“

“I should’ve texted,” he interrupts. He struggles to not think about them walking around the living room naked. “I forgot. But it, it’s fine. You’re fine. Really. Sorry for not texting.”

“Okay. Cool.” They exhale, a tired noise. “And it’s okay. It happens.” They look at the floor and make a sound of surprise. “Did you clean this up?” The look they give him has far too much gratitude, and it feels like a searing hot iron.

“Yeah, uh.” His hands are moving like he’s trying to explain something, but no words crop up. “Felt weird not to.”

“Well.” They smile, grateful. “Thank you. That was gonna be dinner, but…” They trail off, looking at the floor with a sour expression. “I fucked up.”

“It’s just that sort of day today,” Carmy mutters.

“Shitty day for you, too?” 

“Yeah. Lots of shit went wrong.” Especially me, he thinks, but he doesn’t say it. “You?”

“Gotcha.” They shrug. “As for me—yeah. Really not my best day. It was just, uh, some family shit. You know how it is.”

Carmy makes a sound of acknowledgement. “That sucks.” He doesn’t know much about their family other than that they’re fairly shitty. It’s the same the other way around, too. 

“It’s whatever,” they say, even though it really isn’t, and he knows it. They look at the floor one more time before looking up at him. “Do you just wanna order pizza or something?”

“Yeah, I do,” Carmy replies, his words coming out much more despondent than expected. 

They settle on some pepperoni pizza from a place down the street. It’s a tried and true method—they deliver, it’s cheap, it’s oily, it’s cheesy, it’s good. Just talking about it makes Carmy taste it on the tip of his tongue. 

“You can go and shower if you want. I’ll get the door when pizza comes,” they offer. They’re standing at the sink, sleeves rolled up. 

“Okay, thanks.” Carmy pauses then, gears turning. He’s vaguely worried his memory is going to shit. “Did—did I just say I was gonna shower?” 

“Oh, no, you didn’t, you just always shower when you get home from work, right?” They say it like it’s the weather, like it’s familiar, and that’s when Carmy realizes because it is. After several months of living together, of course they’ve picked up on his habits. It doesn’t need to be a thing. There’s no reason for it to be a thing.

“I do,” Carmy replies faintly, and for some reason, that’s all he can say. 

“Thought so.” They look at him for just a moment, but it makes him feel like his body’s gone transparent. “I notice these things, you know.”

“Yeah.” Carmy looks at them when they turn back to the dishes, back facing him. “You do.” 

He tells himself he’s not gonna think any harder about any of it. He’s not gonna think about the singing, the apron, the way they just notice these things, but then he does. 

He’s in the shower, and he thinks about everything.

The water pressure is pathetic, but the warmth still feels nice. Between that and the sound of the running shower, it’s usually enough to quiet his thoughts. This time, though, it doesn’t. To his credit, he does try to think about anything else. 

He thinks about work, because he always does. He thinks about flour, about onions, about knives. He thinks about the shampoo lathered in his hair. He thinks about those lightbulbs they still need to get. He thinks about food. He thinks about them. He thinks about pizza. He thinks about the way they sing when no one’s around. He thinks about the way they know him. 

He thinks about them, knees on the floor only in a—

He thinks of bashing his head into the tile wall until he explodes.

“Shut the fuck up,” he whispers to himself, rivulets of hot water trailing down his forehead and dripping off his lips. “Shut the fuck up.”

The soreness is still present in his body, but that never quite goes away. He does feel a bit better now that he doesn’t have sweaty, sticky skin, though. It gets even better when he puts on a clean white t-shirt and his favorite sweatpants. It’s a nice surprise from his past self who did his laundry for him. 

This amount of niceness is okay. This is what he’s used to—a shower and comfortable clothes when he’s home from work. That’s enough.

He steps out into the kitchen with a damp towel on his head. He finds them sitting by their one shitty window that opens, pizza box in front of them and joint lit. It casts an orange glow to mix with the golden light from the window. 

“Hey, pizza’s here!” They slap their hand on the greasy cardboard box. “Just got this joint started for us, too.”

“So you weren’t gonna smoke it all on your own?” He doesn’t mean to tease, but he does. He slips into the seat across them, arms resting on the table they placed by the window. 

“I couldn’t smoke this whole thing even if I wanted to,” they protest. “Besides, joints are made for sharing. Here—now you get to take it. Isn’t that nice?” With their elbow propped up on the pizza box, they hold up the joint to him. The lit end of it sizzles a bright orange, emitting a thin trail of smoke up to the ceiling. 

“That is very, very nice,” Carmy agrees, taking it carefully from their fingers. Their face spreads into that contagious grin of theirs, and he’s far from immune. Sometimes he smiles so much around them that his face hurts, rusty and unused. 

Sure, he can blame that on the weed, but if he’s being honest with himself (a rare occasion), that’s a complete lie. Obviously the weed lessens the tension, the stress that winds him up tight. It’s not just the weed that gets him to relax, though. 

It’s them. There’s something disarming about their presence, something that makes him loose-lipped around them. Even when he’s sober, he finds himself feeling comfortable. He’s not quite sure how that happened, or if that’s ever happened. He supposes that isn’t a bad thing. Just something he’s noticed. 

He wonders if they’ve noticed. 

“You like the new rolling papers?” They tuck their knees under their chin, propping their feet up on the chair. 

“Hm.” Carmy lowers the joint from his mouth to give it a good look. He rotates it around in his fingers. “Strawberry?”

“Yeah, it’s strawberry,” they confirm, poorly hiding the excitement in their demeanor. Not that they were trying to. “Can you taste it?” 

He pulls from the joint, the edges of the paper sizzling red with the weed. It’s an even burn this time. He rolls his tongue around in his mouth after he exhales a cloud of smoke. 

“Still no,” he decides after a beat, and they sigh. 

“I don’t know why I ever get my hopes up.”

“I do taste something else in this, though.” He takes another hit, stews on it. “Lavender?”

“Shoulda known you would’ve gotten it on your first tray. Yeah, it’s lavender. I found some lying around.”

“You made this one pretty nice,” he observes, eyes tracing the shape of the joint. “Between the lavender and the new papers, I mean.”

“Well, y’know.” The smile on their face is small and shy. “I don’t smoke joints often, so I wanted to make it nice, and I, uh…”

They’re paused for so long that Carmy interjects. 

“And?”

“And I—want that joint,” they finally say, outstretching their hand. Carmy has a strong feeling that they weren’t originally going to say that, but he hands over the joint nonetheless.

“Strain?” He asks curiously. He can feel the body high creeping up his shoulders, fluid and light.

“The strain that gets you high,” they reply with a grin.

“Oh, thank god,” Carmy sighs in relief, and the way that makes them laugh… It makes his chest tight. 

“To actually answer your question, though—I dunno.” He likes watching the smoke drift from the tip of the joint as they talk, thin gray wisps in the air. “I think it’s a hybrid? Not sure if it’s more one way or not, though…”

“As long as it’s not the weed that puts you to bed.”

“Um…well, if you smoke enough of it, it can.”

They sit together like this for a while, just sitting and taking turns with the joint. It’s an easy, fluid exchange, flowing between them like smoke. No matter how much they both try to blow it out the window, it always comes back in. The smell of weed is strong in the air, earthy and pungent.  

Although he would never describe himself as a talkative person, sitting stoned across from them makes the words come out. Sometimes, he thinks he likes himself better when he’s high—his mind isn’t running circles around itself, and the soreness of his body just floats away. He feels more like a human than a poor imitation of one like he usually does. 

This weed smells kinda good, he thinks, and when they laugh, nose scrunched up, he realizes he said that out loud. 

“That’s literally what I’ve been saying,” they agree, a bright grin lingering on their face. “That’s how you know you’re a fuckin’ stoner!” 

“Feels weird to call myself a stoner,” he muses. He plucks the joint from their outstretched hand. It definitely looks shorter from when they started a moment ago. “But I guess…”

“If you like the smell of weed, you’re too far gone,” they say with a grave expression. “It’s so fucking over for you.”

“Fuck,” he whispers, equally as serious, and then they’re both bursting out into laughter. He likes the sound of their laugh—it’s unabashed, fills up the space. 

“Dude, I’m high,” they whisper after they both calm down, like it’s some sort of secret, and Carmy can’t stop himself from laughing all over again. “Oh my god. Are you high?”

“I—I think I might fucking be,” he gets out between laughs, and that sparks them straight into another cackle of laughter. He’s not supposed to be able to make others laugh, he doesn’t even make himself laugh—but then he’ll say something, and they’re lit up with laughter. 

“We need to eat this pizza now, ” they yell, projecting over their combined noise. They flip the pizza box open, and it smacks Carmy right in the face. 

“Oh,” he reacts mildly.

“Shit, I’m so sorry—”

“It’s fine, it’s not like you punched me in the face,” he reasons, but their guilty expression persists. “It didn’t hurt, it’s just cardboard.”

“I’m sorry, I’m high,” they sigh apologetically. 

“I know,” he replies with a little smile. His eyes drift down to the pepperoni pizza sitting before them, glorious in its perverse amount of oil. “So, we’re gonna eat this, right?”

“Oh my god, yes we are,” they gasp, and the moment is forgotten. 

When he tears off a pizza slice, the cheese stretches in thin, gooey strings. They grab the slice adjacent to it to snap the strings in half, but they’re both leaned back in their chairs, pizzas in hand, and the cheese is still connected. 

“This doesn’t seem right,” Carmy mutters, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “We should’ve just cut it.”

“How could we have predicted this?” They pull their pizza further back, and the string still doesn’t break. “Wow. I’m honestly impressed. I don’t think it’s ever been this insane before.”

“I think we’d remember.” He’s not sure why he’s still talking and not just running his finger across the string to break it. 

“I think we would, too.” They snort, shaking their head. “This—this is some spaghetti type shit.”

“What? Spaghetti?” He’s genuinely perplexed.

“I—I mean like—that fucking disney movie. With the dogs.” They pause for a moment, mouth silently moving. “Fucking—lady and the, the truck—”

“Uh.” He has to hold back a laugh. “...The lady and the tramp?”

“ Holyshittheladyandthetramp ,” they blurt out in a rush, and the cheese string finally snaps in half. “…Well, I guess it’s not exactly like the lady and the tramp, then.” They take a large bite of their pizza, and it reminds Carmy exactly how hungry he is. 

“You mean lady and the truck,” he corrects, and he can’t stop himself from smiling. Especially not with how good this hot pizza is, delightfully salty and greasy in his mouth. 

“Shut up, I was trying,” they grunt through a mouthful of food. 

“How exactly is this like the lady and the tramp, again? Or, uh, not like it?” 

“Well, it was just like it, but then the string broke.” Somehow, they’re already halfway through their slice. “Could’ve been a beautiful spaghetti moment.”

“Spaghetti moment,” he echoes under his breath, holding back a laugh. “Remind me how that scene goes?”

They go quiet for a moment. It’s like he can see the gears turning in his head. If he’s being honest, he already remembers how that scene goes, but…he wants to hear them say it. He needs to hear them say it. 

“Uh, well, they��re…eating spaghetti. The titular lady and tramp.”  Their eyes are fidgety, flickering back and forth between their pizza and the window. “And they’re sharing the plate, the two of them. They’re eating together, and, um…” 

“...And?” 

They meet his eyes, mouth hanging open, and then they close it. 

“Um, I don’t remember, actually,” they say, shaking their head and blinking. He sees it for the blatant lie that it is, and yet. “Do, do you remember?”

As he stares back at them, unable to look away, he wonders. He wonders about what this really means. About if this really means anything at all, about if he’s going to find out if it does. 

“I don’t remember,” he answers quietly, cowardly, and neither of them say anything else.

Out of the two of them, they’ve always been better with recovering from awkward moments, so they do. They start talking about something else, and the world keeps turning. But in the back of his head, Carmy remains in that moment, unwilling to let it go. 

Why did you say that you didn’t remember? He wants to say. Why didn’t I say that I remembered how it went? Because I remember. They kiss—they fucking kiss. Is that what you wanted to hear? Is that what I wanted to hear?

But because he’s Carmy, he doesn’t say anything. He just eats.

He’s so hungry that the pizza disappears in minutes. It’s delicious, but he’s so high he’s not completely sure he can taste it. Somehow, it remains the best thing he’s ever eaten. 

The rest of the night is a blur. He remembers getting onto the couch at some point. They both decide on a random movie he doesn’t catch the name of. They finish off the joint on the couch together, sinking into its cushions. It burns hot in his throat as it reaches the end. 

And as it turns out, the weed he smoked is the one that puts him to bed. 

“...Ca…Car…” Someone’s calling him. “...Carmy, c’mon. You’re gonna complain about your neck tomorrow if you keep sleeping here.”

“Mhm,” he replies helpfully. He turns his head into the cushion. His body feels like an abstract blob, perfectly molded into the couch cushions.

“Okay, you made a good point. But. ” They laugh quietly, under their breath. “Movie’s been over for like 20 minutes now.”

“Mhm,” he repeats, nearly inaudible. He doesn’t wanna get up. Whenever he falls asleep, it always feels like he’s never gotten an hour of sleep in his life. There’s nothing he needs to think about, worry about. He’s warm and comfortable, and he doesn’t feel like letting that go just yet.

Everything goes silent again for a moment, save for the cars on the road. He begins to drift away again, slipping back into his dreamless sleep. 

But then there’s a hand on his shoulder, and it’s like a smoking brand on his skin. His eyes fly open and he jolts awake, jerking upright. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” they apologize, fretful. Between the dark of night and haze of sleep, they look pretty different. The blue light from the television is streaked across the blurry planes of their face.

“It’s fine,” he replies, drowsy. Speaking feels…heavy. Begrudgingly, he adjusts to sit up. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“Weed,” they say with a shrug. 

“How, how long was I—?” He cuts himself off with a yawn, wide with condensation in the corners of his eyes. 

“Only like, 30 minutes.” They yawn back. Typical infectious yawning. “End of the movie sucked anyway.”

“Oh.” Pause. “What was the ending?”

“Love interest died,” they state plainly. “He told her about how he felt, got rejected, and then she died in a car accident. Pretty tragic.”

“Huh.” Carmy makes a face. “That does suck.”

“Yeah, a bit.” They’re idly fiddling with the remote, scrolling through Netflix without reading anything. “I feel like the movie was trying to say something profound about the unpredictability of life or something, but the writing was shit.”

“I guess it’d be too perfect if they got together,” he muses.

“I guess,” they echo. They turn off the tv, and the room goes dark. The only light is from the yellow street lamp right outside their window, wonderful in its inconvenient placement. It illuminates the shape of the back and leaves their face in shadow. “I think I remember how that scene went,” they say suddenly. 

“Oh.” Carmy’s heart feels stuck in his throat. “And how does it go?”

“Well, they’re—both eating spaghetti. Like I said.” They’re not facing him, leaving their face shrouded in shadow. He’s not sure if he’s imagining the shake in their voice or not. It’s beyond him why there would be any shakiness at all. “They somehow get the same noodle, so they, uh, kiss.”

“They kiss,” he repeats for some unknown reason.

“Yeah.” They let out a quick laugh, but it doesn’t sound like they actually find this funny. He wishes he could see the look on their face. 

“I don’t think pasta works like that,” he hears himself murmur faintly. For some reason, he can’t help but think that was the wrong thing to say. But he’s already said it. Maybe it’s the same reason as to why his heart is beating so urgently. 

“No, I, I don’t think so either,” they mumble. He refuses to place the way they’re feeling. 

I can’t fucking do this.

The thought resounds like a gong, hit with a mallet right next to his ear. 

“It’s late, I gotta head to bed.” It feels like someone else is speaking for him, moving his body for him. He can’t stop them. When he stands up, he avoids their face.

What the fuck are you doing?

Another thought resounds. He doesn’t respond.

“Right, I—didn’t even notice the time.” He pretends he doesn’t hear the strain in their voice. No, he didn’t word that right—there is no strain in their voice. “G’night.”

"Night,” he murmurs back.

This is enough, he tells himself as he falls into bed. His sheets are tangled. This is enough , he repeats, and it’s not because he’s scared, afraid, anxious, or any other stupid synonym. It’s because he believes it, needs to believe it. 

He tells himself, this is enough , even though he wonders, what is supposed to be enough? He doesn’t listen. He stamps down the protests, the thoughts that are out of line. The high usually helps with that, but it’s worn off, now just leaving him in a weary, sleepy state of things. 

This is enough, he thinks, and he falls asleep looking at their shrouded face behind his eyelids.

[dadvans]

hm.

i think this is coming up because longmont potion castle came into conversation recently. the last time i saw you, really saw you where it was just the two of us, we spent the night on the couch in your condo listening to longmont potion castle tapes. "rope" was my favorite.

i saw you again, later, with your soon-to-be wife, who was wonderful. i still hadn't progressed to taking hormones, but you introduced me easily, just like you had with your roommate within weeks of me leaving my ex and deciding to transition. no faltering. you always got me.

i'll always remember you making me stop my car, saying, "psp psp psp kitty, first pets are free," and making new cat friends.

you would have been so much better at being in your thirties than i am. i suck at this. you would have been so good. you would know what to do in this stubborn world.

we started a tumblr for our radio show in 2010. i updated it every week but struggled, because it was so much different from livejournal. i still have that account attached to mine, because there's a picture of us as the icon, and despite how i've changed, i'm not ready to let go of your (occasionally terrible, joanna newsom and titus andronicus, really?) music taste, or the picture of us together in my old kitchen, back when we used to have vodka and pickle parties to watch new episodes of jersey shore.

this isn't an anniversary of your death, it isn't even close. it's just a random day i'm remembering you again. your wife wouldn't let me see your ashes the last time i asked, because she was still grieving and lost, and i respect that, but i really just wanted to read you italian elon musk tweets. you would have fucking loved italian elon musk twitter. you would have been an answer to a lot of things happening now that we don't have. you were so fucking smart, and funny. someone uploaded your one-time standup show when we were college students to youtube, and i've watched it more than once.

if anyone ever deserved to be alive, it would be you, and i'm so mad that you aren't. life was taken from you in the ugliest way. it was taken from you and you were taken from us, and no one had a say, and every now and then (today) i get real fucking angry about it.

i still drive past your old house sometimes and expect to see your franksteined together car. i remember how soft your hands were. your stupid mountain unicycle. the way you made us all listen to drake but also the first press the smiths album afterward like a balm, only to chase that with fucking drake like he was the second coming. you laughed like jimmy carr getting punched in the solar plexus. i miss you so much. i can't remember how long it's been.

[edensinking]

Four fictional crushes tag game! tagged by @esta-elavaris ʚ♡⃛ɞ(ू•ᴗ•ू❁)

I. King Caspian X

I was ten going on eleven when Prince Caspian came out, and my family and I had recently moved states. We were living at this farmhouse-like place with my great-grandmother. I became a little obsessed with playing in the backyard (which was massive, and full of plum and mango trees, an empty pond, and a chicken coop), and waking up every morning to a horse galloping in circles in the farmhouse across the street. I was living my best cottagecore life. Anyway, I forced my parents to take me to the movies, and basically, that second Narnia movie changed my life forever. I was bawling my eyes out and heaving by the time it was over, and I walked out of the movie theater (the same I've been going to for sixteen years now, holy shit) feeling like I lost something. It was from that movie that I acquired a taste for ill-timed, ill-fated romances. And I know there's a moment between primary and secondary school where (if you're self-aware enough) you come to terms with your childhood coming to an end. The feeling I had in the car on the ride home was exactly that.

II. Raoul de Chagny

I've been obsessed with The Phantom of the Opera since I was around fifteen or sixteen. I watched the movie a million times, and every time, I wished I could change the ending and give Christine and Erik an opportunity to be together. Many hours were spent reading fanfiction and sulking. So this one surprised me. I think it was last year that I rewatched the movie, or maybe it was around Christmas. What I'm getting at is I rewatched the damned thing expecting to feel the same kind of angst until I got to the part where they sing All I Ask. I realized I had a lover boy in my hands. And God knows how much I love my lover boys. Not only did I switch teams, I actually listened to All I Ask so many times in a row that I decided I would down the aisle to that song played by a string quartet. I don't even think I wanna get married ever. That's just how powerful being a simp for your girl and wearing a billowing shirt is.

III. Commodore James Norrington

This one's definitely the most recent of the bunch. I watched the movies when they came out, and I remember me and my brothers would crack the fuck up and yell “ELIZABETH” at each other because we thought his voice was funny—the effect I find his voice to have now, that I'm a grown-ass woman, is a completely different subject. I work in a creative field. Sorta. Kinda. And when I was working on the aesthetic aspect of one of my projects I told myself “You know what? I'm gonna make this one about pirates” which led to me rereading a Pirate AU I wrote ages ago and rewatching the PoTC movies with my family (I forced them to watch them with me so I'm starting to see a pattern.) I mean, I remembered years ago during a rewatch I was literally shook when I realized that hot albeit disgraced specimen was Norrington. But I still wasn't prepared for simping for him as hard as I am now. This is unrelated but my mother was growing a tomato plant years ago around the time I started learning Italian, and I learned the word for tomato in Italian is very similar to the word for Commodore in Spanish (my first language.) That's why, for the time we managed to keep that tomato plant alive, we called it Pomodoro Norrington. I think it only ever gave us one tomato and it was grape-sized.

IV. Captain Georg von Trapp

He's A1 from Day 1. He's all that. He's the only man ever. From getting a summa cumme laude degree in Yearnalism to ripping that horreondus fucking flag, Christopher Plummer as Captain von Trapp was so fucking powerful he managed to bag me, my mother, and my grandmother. That's a tri-generational crush. Tonight we're baking cookies and rewatching the movie for the hundredth time because I've been listening to the soundtrack for days, and I'm on a serious musical withdrawal. And, yes, I'm forcing my family to watch this, too, I'm aware that's a problem I have.

Tagging: I'm gonna be honest with you guys, I haven't made much conversation in the short time I've been here so if you see this consider yourself tagged.

[hush-writes-preg]

As the months fly by my visits become more and more frequent. Sometimes we don’t even make love, I just talk about my cravings and how the babies are doing. You find out my name is Alex and I’m carrying your twins, and more so, that I’ve been developing a strong crush on you. By my due date, I’m more waiting for you than I am seeking you out. I’m so heavy, I can barely walk half the time, but I still make my way to your train as often as I can.

Even though I’m about to pop, will you still have me?

-🚂

My apologies for the delay, Train Anon!  Life got a little crazy there for a while, but I wanted to be able to give this the attention it deserves. ❤️❤️❤️ So here you are! 

(Previous asks in this series: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3)

I've never regretted working on long-distance trains, for I haven't really been interested in settling in one place for long when I could be reveling in the freedom of travelling wherever the rails might take me instead.  I lived for my job, for the casual relationships, for no one but myself, honestly.  And for years, that was good enough for me.

But I was starting to wonder if that was enough. 

I guess I had you to blame for that, Alex.  I'd never planned on being a father, but that hadn't stopped me from fucking you bareback more time than I could count, until the day you showed up with a faint baby bump and an unspoken question.  Would I continue our liaison, or would I switch lines and leave you behind as nothing more than a pleasant memory? 

I hadn't answered when we parted ways yet again, but I think the sight of me waiting for you in the dining car a few weeks later was all the answer you needed.  

We still found plenty of excuses to make love during your visits, but we found a surprising amount of time to talk, too.  I learned so much more about you than I ever expected, and you even shared details about your pregnancy with me.  You told me about your odd cravings and your ultrasounds as you curled up against my side during late evenings spent in your cabin, and I couldn't help but feel like there's something more going on.  That your feelings for me were changing, but instead of being spooked by the thought, I found myself… strangely content.

When you showed me the first sonogram of our twins (!), I was left speechless.  We made those two little beans on the photo, and they were growing larger and larger inside of you every day.  In some ways it didn't seem real.  What were we going to do about them once they came?  What would we do about whatever-this-was between us?

But you didn't ask those questions, so I didn't try to answer.

With your due date on the horizon, I almost expected you to disappear again, but you still managed to show up with your fetching waddle and enormous belly.  I was reminded of the first night we met-- the way your eyes had glanced over me with barely-concealed heat, and the way your clothing had clung to curves exaggerated by your advanced pregnancy.  So shy yet so needy, but still eager to be touched and pleasured.  After helping you take your bag to your cabin, I asked you if there was anything else I could help you with.

You smiled and nodded, your fingers tentatively moving towards the buttons on the shirt straining to contain your pregnant belly, at least until I pushed them away and took over.  I wanted to unwrap you myself.

So unwrap you I did, easing you out of your clothes and helping to settle you back on the bed with much more care than we usually took.  My mouth kissed a path along the dome of your abdomen while my hands caressed and stroked, moving lower, lower, lower, until finally I could close my lips around your arousal while my fingers nudged inside.  You tasted like heaven, the sounds you made sounded like music, though sadly your bulging middle kept me from seeing your face.  But I didn't mind as long as I could feel you tremble and jerk against me, until I finally sent you soaring over the edge with a clever twist of my fingers and flick of my tongue. 

When I eventually arose from between your orgasm-limp thighs, licking the flavor of you from the corners of my mouth, I realized how absolutely shattered you looked.  Like you couldn't believe that I'd want you like that, especially then, when you so close to giving birth. 

But the sight of you nude and spread across the bed with our babies shifting within your womb was the closest thing to divinity that I figured I'd ever see, and I wanted to worship at your altar. 

So worship you I did well into the night, losing myself in the wonder of your body as I showered you with attention and praise.  I lost count of the number of times I felt you fall apart in my arms as the train gently rocked us.  And the memory of you clenching around me as I spooned you and entered you from behind that last time felt like it would be forever engraved on my soul.

It's getting harder and harder to let you walk away from me, Alex.  But I'll keep working on this line, so if you ever decide to return, know that I'll be here, ready to do my best to take care of all your needs.

[chevvy-yates]

From the OC ask game for all of your boys: 11 and, for Ryder specifically (I'm not playing favourites ssshhhh): 33, 34, 35?

11. what do they have in common with you? how are they different? would you get along with them?

Oh boy … what a question Dx I'll try to hold it short:

Vijay:

In Common: huge love for sea animals since we were kids, 80s, retro fashion, ginger hair (mine is colored tho as I'm naturally brown), overthinking and problems to find sleep at night as thoughts run around in our minds constantly, on constant low energy as overworking outselves is 'daily life', undecided about everything (we always want to be Switzerland) different: smokes, his character is the opposite of mine as he's outgoing, loves to be around people. He always needs some affection/love or he will feel alone, he is good with computers/mathematics, understands the feelings of others very well, knows how to pep talk We would get along but not be besties. He would definitely call me often, try to lure me out of my cave to have some fun. I'd go but maybe I'll be exhausted. cannot do it everyday as Vijay knows too many people in the city. I would go nuts to know that many and have to talk so much. Though, he too has days he needs a bit lone time to load his battery due to the overworking habit.

Ryder:

In Common: being German and Hessian, all things black, definitely the perfectionism, some ocpd tendencies (his are heavier than mine tho), fast to get aggressive about the tiniest things (day is done then), not keen to start a conversation with anyone from our side, the judging gaze, always right and others are wrong, love for hard beats (techno, dark wave, industrial), only wanting to be around people when on a (rave) event/party, introvert acting extrovert in certain situations, low self-esteem (that got better with years of maturity, but can break), don't like to be really spontaneous (needs to be planned at least 2 days prior), dislike when someone is too late for a meeting, small circle of friends, problems to articulate how we feel, everything pistaccio, popsicles and lollipops, love to take pictures in cool outfits but hate when someone takes pictures in private, high interest in military and space. different: chain-smoker, relationsship with his family is bad (mine is not), heavy mobbing in the past happened to him (i got mobbed as well but for being different as I was allowed to dress like I've wanted - Ryder not, he was mobbed for being not good enough), when he works he is super focused (I'm not) as Beast steers him, he is probably funnier than I am and more outgoing too (again this is Beast's influence as well as 'real Ryder' used to be a shy introverted boy who spent time only with a small circle of friends), does lots of sport I think we would definitely love hate each other as we are very similar. xD As you can see Ry and I share the most in common, he is sort of a self insert but not a full one. Idk if I could be with him 24/7 but we would definitely get along and be somewhat close to besties. I never told it but he likes Hizumi very much as Hizumi is similar like him (and Hizumi is technially me). I bet he would drag me out more often as I spent too much time at home alone and I'd be the one who gives him a pep talk when he feels down – at least as good as i am able to bc, feelings and understanding them are ugh.

Thyjs:

In common: Military clothings (olive, camo – I dig this so much), only talks when addressed, love for classical art (impressionism) and music. 60s/70s Rock('n'Roll), drinks alcohol only when going out, love for thunderstorms, bicycling/mountainbiking different: smokes, has ptsd and emotional numbing, knows what he wants, strong personality type, family bound (would even marry and have children, I do not) We would get along, but I'd have super huge respect towards him but appreciate his silent presence the most.

Jaysen:

in common: doesn't smoke and never ever tried it out, taste for cool cars and all things cowboys, rowdyness (i may not be as rebelious as he is but I rebel against certain things and u can't change my mind), different: all what his brother above is plus careless what others think of him We would get along but I would have a hard time to have him around as he's so energetic in contrast of his lil brother xD.

Hizumi:

In common: nonbinary, doesn't smoke, has my face, fashion style (a mix of visual kei, japanese fashion (e.g. sexpot revenge), 80s, loneliness, lazyness, loves to fly (airplane travel), interest for mysticism (yokai) different: can't think of anything as I haven't developed them much but I'm sure there are some as well. Hizumi sadly is the least developed as I do not have them as pixels yet and I tend to ignore my 'cospaly pics' always.

So, Ryder is your fav u wanna tell me? :P

33. if applicable, how would your other characters describe them? i mean specifically the people around them.

Vijay: "Ryder's a complicated dude, but a real lovely one. You can't hate him, even if you wished for it. Yes, he's got problems with his tonality an' is easy to erupt. If you only get to know him superficially you may not like him. It's not easy to become his choom, but if you are allowed to be — bro, he's the best choom you can have. Never met one as loyal as Ryder — at least not before meeting Thyjs — Ry's like that lil' pup phenomenon; the stray black lil' doggo you found wandering aimlessly in the streets and picked up to bring home with you. Result is a super loyal strong watchdog who will be alerted immediately once someone approaches. I can say of my own experience that he's extremely protective if you happen to be in his rather small friend circle. He will do anything to protect you from the bad. He's a good boy and therefore my best friend forever."

Thyjs: “I didn’t know what to think of him in the first place. He talked to me with such an arrogant tone, on top in German. Ik was totaal geïrriteerd. Unsure if I would like him. He's got quite some personality. But knowing him better now, I see who he truly is and when it is the ‘other Ryder’ coming through. There is something about him I did like from the very first moment: his honesty and straightforwardness and his strong will to withstand the pain he endures every day. I can only imagine how he must feel. So I decided to give him a chance. En ik ben eerlijk — he's one of the kindest people I’ve met. Ry willed to show me the city — he hardly knew me. He decided to trust me even though I served those who he despises most. He offered me to stay at his place, as I had none, until I made some eddies for an apartment. I enjoyed spending time with him more and more. He made me put down my strict soldier shell I usually keep up, allowing me to appreciate the more casual life now as I cannot pick up my soldier career anymore. Thanks to him I’m a little more of an outgoing person now too I guess. Ryder saved my life! I owe him my protection and he magically made me fall in love with him. It was the least I expected to happen. He helps me explore my own feelings as I struggle with emotional numbing even though he has a hard time to express himself either. In private he's the loveliest and most caring man I've ever met. You can only fall in love with him."

34. how would your character describe themselves? it doesn't have to line up with how they really are.

answered here.

35. do they ever return home?

Ryder often thought about going back home to Germany but he never did as the thought of making Night City a better place kept him here. Also he feels bound to the city as long as Beast has control over him. The fun fact is, if he would leave NC and a certain area, Beast would lose control over him as it is bound to Night Cities net only and he would be free, but he doesn't know that. It would be so easy. But Beast keeps him in his place. Thinking about it now I can imagine him and Thyjs going on a vacation back to Germany just somewhere into the forest. Can only be after their big story event because his father needs to be thrown from the Militech throne first (idk if he will stay alive or not) to make it happen, as Beast needs to be gone too. But if he goes back home (near Frankfurt am Main) he will do it with Thyjs. He will show him his favorite places he's been to and shamelessly utilize his families properties that are located in many places of Germany. A luxury wooden lodge in the Blackwood Forest to spend summer or winter vacation in. The Scharfenberg Isle at the Lake Tegel in Berlin would also be a nice place to visit as the family own a little summer house on the isle where Ryder learned to swim as a young boy. And of course he would bring Thyjs to the old tarmac at Tempelhof Park! The Scharfenberg Castle (Palatinate) would be visited as well – though it's just a ruin today but tied to his family crest as he's a descendant of Carl III of Scharfenberg. As well as Schloss Wanfried in Nord Hesse. These are all places tied to good memories of his rather bad childhood and places can the least for his family's toxic behavior. Thyjs is interested in history and wants to know where Ryder grew up so I imagine they would definitely visit some of those places and stay there for a while. I also hc right now that Ryder gets the idea to drive over to the Netherlands, give Thyjs the option to see his mother again. But this all can only happen a few years after the story events of course as Militech would get suspicious even though Thjys has a different ID now with a new last name. Ryder would even let his mother drive in to on of the places in Germany if he gets out any info about her (I bet Vijay and Jay would be glad to help out).

okay turned out to be longer than I intended :,D

[darknight3904]

Sober - Eddie Munson

Chapter 13- Still hot as hell

Masterlist

"What the hell even is this?" Max asked

"Who knows...it kinda looks like a giant potato sack." Marguerite said

The pair had been shopping all day. They were shopping for an outfit for Marguerite to wear on this date with Eddie. Max had pointed out that she could just wear that leather jacket again but Marguerite insisted on something different. They had been through countless outfits and stores and still nothing.

"Hey Marguerite...what about this one?" Max asked

"Holy shit...it's perfect."

°°°

Eddie had spent the majority of his day at Dustin's house.

"Eddie would you please stop worrying!" The curly haired boy yelled

"I can't help it, Henderson. What if I fuck it up? She's never gonna want anything to do with me ever again." Eddie said

"You're not gonna mess up. You just have to be yourself." Dustin advised

"Yeah no don't do that." Steve cut in

"What why not?" Eddie asked

"Cuz'..." Steve said as if we're obvious

"Steve. That isn't a reason." Dustin pointed out

"Ok look. What I mean is you're gonna be her first guy since me. Not to brag but I'm hard to live up to. Meaning, you gotta be on your toes. You really wanna wow her, be aggressive." Steve said

"Like a lion." Dustin interjected and produced a strange growl with his mouth

"Dude how many times do I have to tell you to stop that, it's weird!" Steve said

"Suzie likes it though!" Dustin argued

"Well I don't see Suzie here do I?" Steve replied

"Well no but it still sounds good I am-"

"Shut up!" Eddie said cutting his counterparts off

Steve and Dustin both turned to their friend who was now standing.

"Harrington...what do you mean by being agressive?"

°°°

The past five minutes had been the most awkward five minutes of Marguerite's life. Eddie had started the night by running around to open his van door for her. The gesture was sweet however, he whipped it open too fast and accidentally hit Marguerite in the face. Luckily she hadn't been injured but she could tell Eddie's ego was definitely bruised.

"You know I've been listening to Black Sabbath recently." Marguerite said trying to break this invisible wall between the two of them

"Oh uh cool yeah that's super cool." Eddie said

"Do you have any of their music in here? It'd be fun to listen to some now." Marguerite said opening the glove box.

"Oh uh no I took them out." Eddie said

Marguerite's brows raised as she pulled a tape from the little box in her hands now sat a few Madonna tapes along with some of Michael Jackson's biggest hits. Marguerite didn't have anything against them but she was hoping to bond with Eddie over his unconventional music taste that Marguerite found oh-so interesting.

"Oh uh Madonna. You didn't seen like the type, Eds." Marguerite said

"It's a secret." Eddie laughed

Marguerite shook her head with a smile and pushed the tape in. Material girl began playing and Marguerites hands tapped along to the beat. The song was good but it just didn't feel right driving in a car with Eddie Munson and having Madonna play.

Material girl was reaching the end of it's tape and Marguerite was hoping the awkward atmosphere would leave once they reached this restaurant Eddie claimed was amazing. Instead, a load boom was heard and the van Eddie loved so dearly began swerving out of control. Marguerite's hands shot forward onto the dash, trying to stabilize herself as Eddie cursed and pumped the breaks.

The van came to a stop on the side of the road just under a street light.

"Holy shit. Maggie are you okay?" Eddie asked

"Yeah I'm great...what the hell happened?" She asked

"I think a tire blew." Eddie said "I'll get out and check. You uh just stay here don't want you to get dirty."

Sure enough a tire had blown. Neither teen knew where the nearest payphone was and the nearest building had to be at least another 3 miles down the road. So now, they sat on the roof of Eddie's van in silence.

"Shit I am so sorry, Maggie." Eddie suddenly said

"What why?" She asked

"This was supposed to be like the perfect date. And now we're stranded waiting for some car to drive along so we can hitchhike back home." He said

"This is definitely not the perfect date but it's definitely the most memorable, Eddie." Marguerite laughed

"Really? Well I guess that's something..."Eddie trailed off.

"Yup. Besides look up there."

Eddie's eyes followed to where Marguerite was pointing. Little stars shone down on them, lighting up the darkness of the Hawkins sky.

"Last time I went stargazing was with Steve. It got ruined by all the mosquitoes." Marguerite laughed

"Well, Lady Hargrove there are no mosquitoes on top of this van." Eddie smiled

"Thank the Lord." Marguerite smiled as she rested her head on Eddie's shoulder

They looked at the stars of Hawkins as the minutes ticked by. Eddie's hand rested on Marguerite's thigh, dark rings contrasting against the white of her dress.

"Can I confess something?" Eddie asked

"What is it?" She asked

"That night after the party your strip tease...it wasn't for Harrington. It was me. I brought you home." Eddie confessed

No fucking way.

"You swear you're not lying to me, Eddie." Marguerite sternly said

"I swear." Eddie said

A beat of silence passed as Marguerite's face began to burn.

"God I'm so sorry , Eddie." She said hiding her face in her hands

"Don't be, sweetheart. I'm not going to lie to you and say it wasn't hot." Eddie assured her

"Shut up." She groaned pushing him away from her

"Oh c'mon. I've thought about that moment so many times this past week, you have no idea." Eddie said leaning towards her.

Marguerite unburied her face from her hands to find Eddie only a few inches from her face.

"You know when you say it like that it sounds nasty." Marguerite softly said

"Maybe. But it was still hot as hell." Eddie smirked

Marguerite just rolled her eyes in response and gently flicked Eddie's nose with her fingers.

"Shut up, Munson."

And with that Marguerite closed the distance between their lips.

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

a drabble of any ineffable husbands fluff if you're up to it (if you need more to go on it can be in Aziraphale's bookshop)

I've been drawing stuff with them in their cottage in the South Downs, so I'm gonna go with that.

On with the fic!

--

Crowley liked the little slice of the world they now lived in, and that included the little town nearby, where he'd go about causing minor problems for old time's sake, and getting the shopping down. He had left Aziraphale alone for a few hours, which was perfectly fine, the two of them loved being around one another but also liked their space.

The demon came to a stop in front of their cottage, parking the Bentley. He stepped out with the shopping bags, looking over his car real quick. She was in need of a wash, the country roads kicked up a lot of dust.

Yes, Crowley could just miracle it away, like he did in the city, but he enjoyed cleaning, especially when it wasn't him stress cleaning. He made a note to come out later in the day to get the Bentley cleaned up, but after he spent some time with his husband.

He stopped in front of the door, about to put his key in the lock, when he tasted something in the air. It was sweet, strong, and warm.

Ah, Aziraphale was baking.

Crowley really hoped that he was using the actual packets of yeast he had in the kitchen and not... whatever grew on some of his books. Again.

Open the door, Crowley could smell and taste the aromas of baked goods, and felt how warm the cottage was. "Angel?" He called out as he walked towards the kitchen, finding the place a bit of a mess with bowls and dishes, utensils and baking items scattered all over their counters and island. "Got a wild hair up your arse and decided to break out the flour, angel?" He commented as he set the bags on the island.

"Oh!" Aziraphale looked away from where he had been bent over, staring into the little window of the oven. "Ah, yes, sorry! I had nearly forgotten I promised the ladies at the local book club that I'd bake for the farmer's market tomorrow. They're doing a charity thing and wanted me to contribute with some of my tasty cakes and such!"

Crowley glanced about after pushing his glasses up to rest on his head. "Yeah, I can see that. I think you made enough for everyone in all the towns and villages around here."

"Oh, hush." Aziraphale huffed and opened the oven, pulling out a pan that contained what looked to be muffins. Crowley could taste bananas in the air, ah, banana nut. He might snatch one of those up.

"Made anything for us to enjoy for tea?" Crowley asked as he put things away with a wave of his hand, too lazy to bother with the task himself.

The angel perked up. "Yes! I made a delightful loaf of honeyed bread for us to try with those delightful jams you experimented with the other day! I'm really looking forward to the pear one."

Crowley made a face. "You can have that whole mess, I'll stick to the strawberry and raspberry ones. But still, sounds good, want me to get things ready while you deal with your mess?"

Aziraphale nodded and the two got about to work, the sound of music from another room, sounded like one of Aziraphale's records, was playing. Crowley glanced over at his husband, who was moving about, grabbing used dishes to put in the sink to be washed after lunch, with a smile on his face.

Sometimes it caught him off-guard to find himself in this situation, where he didn't fear Heaven and Hell finding them together, where they were living together in retirement. And married, to boot.

"What's got you smiling like that, dear?" Aziraphale asked, catching Crowley's attention.

"Ah? Well, just... thinkin', 's all." He turned back to starting the electric kettle.

The angel moved closer, pressing close. "Thinking about what?"

"Don't make me say it, angel..." He groaned. "I've got a reputation."

"I'm sure you do." Aziraphale said, the bastard.

Crowley huffed. "I was just thinkin' about how lucky I am that I can do stuff like this with you, it's... it's nice."

This put a huge smile on the other man's face. "It is, isn't it? Now, get the kettle started, dear boy, so we can have some nibbles!" He then kissed Crowley on the cheek and went back to the sink.

[foofygoldfish]

all of preferences for alice >:))

oh that was mean lmao

🔥 Give us a list of general likes and dislikes, such as colours, textures, music, weather and other stuff!

likes: sunny days, swimming, mooching off her brother's status to get into fancy restaurants, climbing tall things, rogue's ass, emo kid music (including samurai, even though she says she hates johnny, which she doesn't lmao), and her favorite color is uh. all shades of green. but mostly that really dark forest-y green that's trendy right now

dislikes: snow, her sister lecturing her, heights, johnny (she's lying, after they get over the breakup, they're fine), her brother's singing...

🍊 What is your OC’s favourite meal? Snack? Dessert? Drink? Any reasons behind this besides liking how it tastes?

mac n cheese. she won't elaborate.

What is your OC’s most hated food? Stuff they can’t stand to eat or drink?

poorly made mac n cheese? she hates all the synthetic food in the 2070s, but she can't really do anything about that...

🍑 Where is your OC’s favourite place to relax or calm down? Recount a story of their time spent in this place! What makes it so special to them?

rogue's lap

in the 2010s, she likes going up to the roofs of whatever buildings she can climb or talk her way into, and just being alone. if she doesn't want to be alone? at a club, with music loud enough that she can't hear herself think. in the 2070s, there's a little outcropping of rocks by kerry's house - she adores it there. she can be found on the roof of megabuilding 10 and the building the afterlife is in fairly often too

Is there anywhere your OC hates to go to? Anywhere that stresses them out or have negative memories of?

anywhere that's too corpo - even outside of the buildings, the rules and Expectations are overwhelming

🧡 Who is your OC’s favourite person? Why is this person the top of their list and have they actually met them (an idol or rolemodel or celeb can be someone’s favourite after all!).

kerry and her friend mary (may)! she's gotten along with kerry ever since she first met him at a show - she went as a fan, before her and johnny's thing started, and they met at the bar after samurai was done playing.

mary has different origins depending on the universe lol - in one, she's a childhood friend of alice's, whose family moved from montana at the same time as the rileys. in another, she's an ex-nomad, who settled down in night city a few years before alice woke up, and helped alice get used to the "new" city

Who does your OC absolutely hate, the one person who they’d sell to Satan for one corn chip? Why do they loathe this person so?

her mom lmao

i uh

think i've gone over why alice hates her so much before

📙 What kind of subjects (of conversation, of discussion, in school or whatever) does your OC find interesting or engaging or that they can talk for hours about? What kind of stuff do they just find fun?

honestly, she could talk about the state of politics in night city for hours if someone let her lol - she'd love meeting jefferson

she'll have very passionate conversations about cars/motorcycles with jackie and kerry too, even though jackie is confused by her refusing to drive yet liking cars so much

What things bore your OC to tears and they couldn’t care less about? Why?

math.

[casspurrjoybellbittner]

Wreckless - Being Comfortable

*Warning Adult Content*

Finnegan

I haven't seen Emmett in over a week and that's 95% my fault. I hate it which is worrying me on a different level but I also haven't had too much time to think about it. My father showed up at the factory on Friday morning for a walk through. My mother had flown out as well so I spent all weekend showing them Baltimore, the little of it I knew anyway. I of course came down with the spring cold from hell and spent Tuesday in bed and Wednesday working from my couch.

Emmett offered to come over and bring me soup but he was working all day and I was in no shape for company of any sort. That's what delivery is for. Yesterday I managed to get to work I make it through the day but I was in bed by 7:30. We've texted and had two evening phone calls so he knows I'm not ignoring him but it's just not the same... I miss him. I haven't really had anyone to miss in a long time or what feels like a long time. I don't know where this is going, him and me. For one, I should be heading back to Michigan in a month or so. Two, letting someone into my head, letting them know my secrets, well that's scary. I've never done it before and I don't know how it's going to play out.

Part of me wants to spin around and sing at top my lungs like I'm in the sound of music, like my apartment is the Austrian countryside. And yes, I want to do it in funny boxers. But then reality sets in and I know I'm weird and honestly, I don't want to date anyone who thinks I'm not. It makes me worry about what else they wouldn't have a problem with, know what I mean? But the possibility is enough to make me forget all of that and when he was here last week and I got to nap curled up against him wearing yes, my batman briefs, I was a happy, happy boy. We'd had a delicious dinner and I'd gotten a few very thorough kisses before he left.

It was a good day... a great day and I miss him and that. That feeling of being comfortable, really comfortable, with someone. I like the people at work but I have to put up a front, play the part. I love my parents and had a good time with them last weekend but no matter how much we love each other, there are some things that would just be going too far. There are rules and expectations and I'm really glad there are. How weird would it be for my mom to flash someone or my dad to tap my beer bottle? It's late by the time I get home and my apartment is very, very empty. I have a hard couch, a mostly empty fridge and nothing to do. I don't have much energy either but suddenly my apartment feels like a jail cell... I call Emmett.

"Hey, darling," he answers.

I smile because I do every time he calls me that.

"Hey. I just got home and I'm bored."

"You should come over here and play with my ferret."

'It will never not be funny.'

"I could order pizza."

That does it... that's a win.

"From that place?"

I don't even remember what it was called.

"Only place I order from, Finnegan."

"I'll pay, get me one and I'll be right there."

He chuckles.

"You're excited and I can tell by your voice that you can breathe a bit better, that's good. Taste buds must be back too. Hey, I'm not working in the morning so if you want to stay, bring a few things."

Stay tonight? Sounds good even though I'll probably be in bed by nine which is only two hours from now or stay the weekend? He said a few... if I show up at the ceiling and tonight he's going to get freaked out. I will pack lightly and leave some stuff in my car just in case.

"Sleeping with you sounds really good, Emmett. See you soon."

"Drive safe, Finnegan."

Half an hour later I'm on his comfortable couch wearing boxers and a Mr. bubbles T-shirt that Emmett pulled from the depths of his closet. I have two huge slices of pizza in front of me and he's yelling from the kitchen

"Want a beer?"

Too soon.

"No. Water is fine."

He brings me a sports bottle with a bendy straw. It has initials on it I can't place and I'm guessing is some automotive part distributor or such. I'd expected a glass but...

"Holds more," he says by way of explanation.

Not that I'm complaining... not really... it's fun. I pull the straw most of the way out since it's pretty full and that gives me plenty to play with. We get settled and snuggled up under a blanket. 

"Comfy, Finnegan?"

He has no idea just how comfortable I am. 

"I'm good Emmett, thanks." 

I fall asleep halfway through the Lego 2 movie.

[survey--s]

620.

Do you ever have days where you just don’t do anything? I always do something even if it's just housework, having a shower or walking the dog. I used to have days where I never even got out of bed but looking back that was a symptom of some serious MH issues so I'm glad life is no longer like that. Have you ever been extremely tired but refused to go to sleep? It's not that I've refused to go sleep, it's that my mind has been too active to let me sleep. What is your favorite episode of True Life, if you have one at all? I've never heard of that show. Well, I have on here but I don't know what it's about or anything. Have you ever experienced something paranormal? No. I don't really believe in that kind of thing. What’s the longest amount of time you’ve been stuck in traffic? About 4-5 hours on the motorway once when there was a serious accident. Luckily we'd just stopped for food/drink so we just sat and ate McDonald's lol. Everyone was leaving their cars to go and pee on the hard shoulder hah. Best field trip experience? Going to Paris in sixth form. Have you ever been to New York City? I have not. If so, is it all its cracked up to be? ... What is the most amount of money you’ve spent on a meal before? Personally, around £30 a head but I've attended meals where it cost over £300 per person before. What museums have you visited, if any? Hundreds of them. I honestly couldn't list them all. My childhood holidays were spent traipsing round museums and churches lol. Have you ever had a group project and one of your partners bailed on you? Sure. That's why I much prefer to work alone. What’s your worst traveling experience? Probably flying to Australia and the turbulence being so bad that you could feel the plane drop and all the lights were flickering constantly. It felt like it lasted forever but in reality it was probably only 15 minutes. Sims 1, 2, or 3? Why? I never played the third one, but the 1st and 2nd were both good.

Have you ever dealt with noisy neighbors or roommates? How did that go? Yeah, when I lived with Chris out downstairs neighbours were always arguing lol. We mostly just ignored it. Who was (or is) the teacher that gave you the hardest time in school? I have no idea - possibly my tutor in year...9 I think it was? Best muffin you’ve ever had? I love the raspberry and peach ones from Starbucks though I don't even know if they sell them anymore. Otherwise I tend to go for blueberry ones. Have you ever taken a woodshop class? Yeah. If so, was it required? Yeah, it was just part of our Design Technology. How much time do you spend on Facebook, if you have one? I'm logged in pretty much all the time. What area of math are you best at? Worst? I'm not really good at any kind of maths, lol. I mean, I can do basic arithmetic but nothing more complex than that. How do you feel when you meet someone with the same music taste as you? It's great. How often do you “half-ass” things (put little effort in)? Christ, all the time lol. Most people don't care how much effort you put into something as long as it gets done to a decent standard. Do you ever feel self-conscious when you eat around other people? Yeah, with messy foods. Has a teacher ever made you hate yourself/your work? Nope. How reliable is your internet connection? It's been fine since the engineer came out to sort it on Friday. He's moved the connection onto a better wall so hopefully it solves the issue we've been having with damp. Have you ever missed a meeting/event that was required/necessary? Sure. What’s something that makes you incredibly nervous? Driving in new places. What’s the latest you’ve ever stayed up to finish homework/a project? I pulled plenty of all-nighters in university. If you don’t have glasses, how would you feel if you had to get them? .... If you do have glasses, how would you feel if you didn’t need them anymore? My life would be much easier if I didn't need to wear them lol. I've kind of resigned myself to a life with glasses though. My prescription is too complex for surgery and I can't cope with contacts. How many vegetarians do you know? Not very many. I live in farming country and pretty much everyone likes to eat good quality, local meat. Have you ever considered going to art school? Nope. Is there anyone in your life who consistently angers you? Dog owners who let their dogs run up to mine even when they're very clearly fucking terrified. How quickly can you write an essay? It depends on the length and the topic, and how formal it has to be. Have you ever had problems falling asleep in class? No. Have you ever been on the barrier or front row at a concert? Just small local ones. What bug frightens you most? Cockroaches. Are your parents supportive of you? Yes. How often do you take the train to go places? Never. Our local trains are awful - they're always cancelled or delayed and it's just so much more convenient to drive. Do you play with your phone in awkward situations? If I'm alone, sure, but I try not to do it with others. Have you ever participated in a mock trial, or a real trial? No, neither.

[whipplefilter]

Today I was listening to those silly Spotify playlists some poor marketing person must have been tasked with putting together for Lighting, Storm, and Cruz, and:

- Cruz has the best taste in music! It’s basically The Fast and the Furious plus Sia. What a perfect banana girl. <3

- There is no way Jackson Storm listens to that much Justin Bieber. Like, maybe that playlist is what he listens to when he wants to have a chill night in, but that’s not a roadtrip playlist! Not a single hype song, Storm, really??

Though part of this might be my having deeply internalized that ravecar fan art I’m sure you’ve all seen, lololololol. Let’s be real, Storm is into whatever came after EDM.

- Lightning probably doesn’t have strong musical tastes. He missed that boat as a rookie and never quite found it, and he mostly comes into songs he likes by osmosis. Like, if someone he likes says they like a song, chances are he’ll ultimately like it, too. Or if he hears a song in a place he likes, or while doing something he likes, and he just kind of builds his playlists up from there. Oh, and he likes the songs they play during downtime at the racetrack. Yeah, he’s that car. No warm-up song, though--just the quiet of his trailer.

[boop-le-snoot]

@buckyownsmylife hey babe! Remember that one time you threw that cool challenge? Here's my entry. Prepare to get absolutely ruined because daddy!Bruce is exactly that sort of man.

main masterlist ☀️ taglist

emotional support nerd

Your best friend's dad, Dr. Bruce Banner, is hotter than you thought he would be. 6k words, NSFW. Kind of Alt!Reader - she refers to herself as 'goth' in one instance. Tony Stark makes an appearance because God forbid I write a fanfic without him in it.

This is filthy pron, ft. age difference (reader is college aged) daddy kink, throat fucking, dirty talk, praise kink, cream pie, possessiveness, belly bulge and ending with a hint at a threesome. I really crammed all I could from Eyre's wheel in here, didn't I. Oh well.

"How much longer, dad?" Lyra's annoyed voice struck a chord within me. I tried to hide my snickering - unsuccessfully might I add - causing my best friend to shoot me a hurt look, equally fed up with me as she was fed up with her forgetful adopted father. "You know what, we'll take the subway."

Lyra's father's voice, both agitated and apologetic, reached my ears in bitten-off phrases as the traffic noises around us grew in volume, NYC rush hour rapidly approaching its peak.

With a sound huff, Lyra removed the phone from her ear, staring me down with the most amount of petulance I've ever seen on her usually reserved, placid face. "It's twenty more minutes. Apparently he's driving Tony's car," she offered in the way of explanation, like it actually did anything to better the cold, wet situation we found ourselves in. "Please, and I can't stress this enough, please don't be weird."

I felt a flood of amusement at Lyra's pleading tone. "Darling, if you wanted a normal friend, you should have looked elsewhere," I gestured to my outfit. I looked like a goth boy's wet dream: chunky platformed boots, fishnets, heavy eyeliner. Of course, all in black.

"You know what I mean," she whined, waving off my pointing hand and fixing me with a hard stare. "The least my dad needs is someone that is terrified of him just because sometimes he turns into a big green monkey. It's not as exciting as internet thinks, anyway," the last part of the sentence was mumbled but I heard it nonetheless as Lyra stared out into the traffic, clever eyes looking for a particular car model.

What Lyra didn't know was that I was not at all considering to be terrified by the man who dosed himself with radiation and developed an advanced version of split personality disorder. I could be intimidated by him, sure, because he was incredibly intelligent, a world class scientist with more PhDs than I had zeroes in my bank account, but even despite his green problem, Dr. Bruce Banner was about as far away from 'scary' as a man could be.

The few scarce pictures of him on the internet showed a short, stocky man with kind eyes and salt-and-pepper curls, always dressed in un-ironed, crumpled button-ups with dorky patterns. Looking at him, I mused that there was a high chance he spoke with a stutter and that fact amused me to no end. Jekyll and Hyde, alright.

Lyra was much the same way. Shy and reclusive, with curly brown hair and doe eyes, she spent a good chunk of her first semester in college being avoided by everybody because of her last name; I, on the other hand, avoided everyone out of habit, I'd never been a social butterfly, but the way people subtly made sure to exclude Lyra from all the activities filled me with quiet, seething rage, and I stepped over my general distaste of people and removed my bag from the seat next to me so Lyra could at least study in relative peace.

Yeah, yeah, you've heard it all, I'm sure. Weird goth chick adopts a socially awkward, shunned nerd and they become best friends forever. I had to admit that under the shy exterior, Lyra was smart, witty and even funny sometimes. She was willing to entertain my crude jokes without moaning, at least, and I was perfectly okay with listening to her rant about science every now and then.

Rain banged on the slanted roof of the café we were hiding in, the autumn wind howled, making both of us shiver at the prospect of having to go outside, even if it was for a short moment to run to Lyra's dad's car. The day had started out warm and sunny, but much like a badly calculated chemical formula, it all went downhill a split second after we had set out to leave campus.

"There he is," the grouch in Lyra's expression had me once again unsuccessfully attempting to conceal my snorting.

Nonetheless, I followed her out into the rain, struggling to keep up with the brisk running in my platformed shoes, unceremoniously crawling into the car behind her without sparing a glance at the driver in my eagerness to get out of the freezing downpour.

"Hi, dad," Lyra's tired voice spoke up at the same time as I angrily shook out my hair.

"I've just about McFuckin' had it with New York," I was afraid the dye in my hair would bleed out into my clothes, or even worse, the nice, cream-colored car seats.

"Hello, ladies," the voice that greeted us was low, gravelly and apologetic to boot.

My eyes shot up, meeting an expression full of surprise and amusement. I stared at the shockingly handsome face of Dr. Bruce Banner like a deer in the headlights.

The fine mimic wrinkles had stretched into a resemblance of a smile, soft, plush lips revealing a set of straight, white teeth. The five o'clock shadow framed his jaw, giving it a sharp, defined edge, his clever brown eyes slid down my form, faltering on the pentagram on my belt and my fishnet-covered legs, settling on my chunky boots before hastily snapping back up to my face.

"Dad, this is..." Lyra's voice was full of suspicious bewilderment as she attempted to dissipate the sudden awkwardness.

"Oh, yeah, I'm Dr. Bruce Banner, but you can call me Doc or Bruce," he cleared his throat, turning himself towards the windshield and starting up the car.

"Nice to meet you," I busied myself with putting away any stray hair just to occupy myself with something during the time I needed to recuperate from being just... Looked at by Lyra's dad.

It sounds ridiculous, I know, but I was so taken aback by his handsomeness and his aura of a gentle but powerful man that the ride to Stark tower, however swift, went on in slightly awkward silence. The streets outside were, thankfully, noisy, and the lack of an attempt to have a conversation could easily be attributed to Bruce's need to focus on the road, but Lyra's increasingly concerned looks did very little to settle the sudden racing of my heart.

"C'mon, I'll give you some sweats so you can let your..." Lyra's vague gesture towards my upper body disappeared behind her side of the door. "Hey, Tony," she suddenly interrupted her sentence, very obviously addressing another person who I managed to miss as Bruce parked in the spacious garage.

"I've been told you're finally bringing your friend, Green Pea," a voice I'd heard a thousand times on the TV poked fun at Lyra.

She bent down to retrieve her bag, shooting big eyes at me and mouthing an exaggerated "Sorry!"

Tony Stark looked about a week in debt on sleep, a contrast to the way he usually appeared in public. The exaggerated eyebrow raise made me shuffle awkwardly in my spot; the Led Zep tee caught my eyes as I lingered on it, aware of my own Mötorhead top on display. He noticed it too, causing his face leave the snide territory.

"Wow, I didn't expect kids these days to have any resemblance of taste in music but you've surprised me, Corpse Bride," he gave me a quiet wolf-whistle, watching me through lidded eyes.

I felt my eyebrow crawl upwards at his attitude but Bruce spoke up before I could say anything: "Tony, no," so firmly, I had to raise both of my eyebrows. I felt a smile tug at my lips, the situation strikingly familiar in it's essence. Like father, like daughter...

"No," Lyra's identical expression, fond and annoyed, topped up with an accusing finger pointed in my direction had everyone snorting a giggle at the situation.

"Lyra," I whined, just so I could coax her grin that she was very obviously trying to conceal. "See, I told you, every crazy genius needs their emotional support nerd," I fixed her with a pointed look.

She promptly grabbed me by the arm, leading all of us to the elevator as the two men behind us shared a hearty laugh at my well-timed joke. It was either that or I would have completely embarrassed myself by gaping and drooling over both THE Tony Stark and Lyra's father.

The rush didn't stop there. I was promptly and generously offered not only a spare pair of pants but also a whole room to stay in after an invitation to dinner I simply could not refuse. Dr. Banner firmly coaxed me into staying overnight with his pleading eyes and a hearty seasoning of guilt tripping, softly crooning how he simply could not let a young woman to wander the cold, rainy night in NYC alone.

Tony added something too, in a tone way too surefire and patronising. I guessed he noticed my eyes lingering on Dr. Banner, being a genius and all.

In a short amount of time, I found myself seated at a dinner table next to a happy, giggling Lyra who'd downed a glass of wine and was well into her second. I found it adorable how much of a lightweight she was; not hesitating in the slightest to point out that fact when she made hands for a pitcher of water.

Tony was the first one to snark back something vague about his college days and all the wild parties he used to throw, booing Bruce upon discovery that he, in fact, actually studied in college in favour of partaking in various illicit activities. That had both me and Tony giggling with Lyra promptly joining in, both of us losing it over the running joke or her being either a test tube baby or the result of immaculate conception.

Bruce's face blushed scarlet. He sputtered, a few stray drops of his lemonade landing on the (ironed!) collar of his purple shirt, cough disappearing in the wake of Tony's truly amused cackling. Dr. Banner was well on his way to either choke on his Lo Mein or turn green; thinking quickly, I decided to defuse a situation by sharing a harmless, funny story that happened to me as a freshman.

"I went on a date with this guy who said that music was the most important thing in his life, and I thought, wow, that's so beautiful!" I began my story over Lyra's incessant snickering. "So we had dinner and went back to his place because I'm a whore," the whole table erupted in laughter at my deadpan remark, Tony reaching over to give me a high five.

"And as we got there, he put on one of his demos which was just a bunch of sampled and remixed Guns'n'Roses songs, and I thought wow, that's gotta be one of the worst things I've ever heard," I pointedly looked away as Lyra's cackling grew in volume, having heard the same story several times by now and the outrage I expressed at the situation first hand.

"But instead of that I said, wow, that's so cool! Then we did the thing and his whole bedroom was covered in Axl Rose posters and I'm sure at some point Mr. Rose stared right up my asshole," there were tears streaming down Lyra's face as Tony flopped his upper body onto the table and Bruce convulsed helplessly in a silent fit of giggles. "And then I thought to myself: wow, I would have to pretend to like his music if I dated this guy and I just couldn't do that..." I breathed out, succumbing to the mirth at the dinner table. "It was good but not November Rain good, y'kno?"

Bruce snorted loudly, sliding down his chair with a hand over his face. The table shook with the force of Tony's cackling; I didn't see his expression but the howling, rasping noises sent me into another fit of laughter, right on par with Lyra.

"Is this..." Tony rapidly inhaled the much-needed oxygen. "Is this why you keep wincing whenever I play the 'Roses in the lab?" Tony wheezed and Lyra nodded.

"I just... I can picture it, and I-" she made a vague, encompassing gesture and a face.

"Please, don't," I urged with a snort. "There are better ways to get disappointed."

Dinner went on by smoothly after that, everybody happily making remarks on my dating fail, the topic of Lyra's birth and Tony's college shenanigans dismissed.

I caught Dr. Banner's pointed look as we finished our dessert - he was studying me, eyes searching for something that he very obviously wished was there. From the damp roots of my hair to the soft, cotton top clinging to my chest, I wasn't left unscrutinzed and unexamined. Like one of the many specimens he studied on a daily basis, Bruce lingered on the many characteristics that made me stand out in the grey crowd.

"Would you like to see the labs?" He asked, appearing behind me without a single sound.

The freshly cleaned dishes clattered in my arms. I'd almost dropped them, startled, but Bruce's hand landed on the top of the stack right before the top plate would have slipped off and shattered into pieces on the cold tile of his kitchen.

Blood rushed to my ears. "I'd love to," my brain had briefly returned to reality, the rush of meeting both Stark and Banner succumbing to logic and reason. My and his fields of study briefly overlapped, the question he posed was more than reasonable. In fact, many people would cheat, lie and steal to be in my position.

Bruce smiled, opening a cabinet and taking half of the dishes I was holding to stack them up in their proper place. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing wide, muscular forearms littered with dark, coarse hair.

I was sure my face was flaming. After waving off Lyra's attempts to put shoes on me and leaving her to watch her TV show, a wide, warm palm rested on the back of my waist, gently steering me towards the elevator.

I tried to keep my eyes off Bruce in the large mirror on the walls of the car as it swiftly moved down, scrutinizing my appearance instead. My throat bobbed, the elevator car suddenly too small and too hot.

His eyes left marks on me - invisible ones, the kind that I knew were there just from the scorching heat sizzling on my skin.

There was a certain je ne sais quoi about him. Perhaps, it was in the way he was acting - a polar opposite of what I'd had expected, Dr. Bruce Banner possessed a quiet confidence and his patience appeared to be endless, heartily doused with an appreciation for his closest ones. The way his eyes lit up in response to people smiling around the dinner table was hard to miss.

When Bruce spoke about his research - whatever wasn't classified, anyway - the spark expanded into a mischievous fire. I could hardly understand the nuances in his work, scratch that- I could not understand a single word he was saying, at all. The individual syllables registered as they should, but my traitorous brain could only focus on the way he licked his lips in between quickly inhaled breaths.

"You're not... Following, are you?" The corner of his mouth lifted upwards, clever brown eyes fixed on my face.

God, I hoped I wasn't drooling. But to deny the obvious would have been a stretch. "No, not really," I swallowed, willing my eyes to lift from the large veins on the hand that was pointing at a set of equations. Reasonably good at math any day, they looked like the scribbles of a madman to me at the time.

Dr. Banner sighed, letting silence creep among the whirring machinery in the lab for a brief moment. "I don't scare you?" He removed his glasses, cleaning them with the corner of his shirt.

The question reeked of self-doubt and, perhaps, insecurity. "No," I answered simply, not giving him the slightest chance to find doubt in my words. I was barely holding my voice from shaking, afraid he'd misunderstand my reaction to the sudden change in atmosphere.

He was closer to me than I recalled. My hip was almost brushing his, the bulk of his shoulder millimeters from touching against my bare skin, the smell of something herbal, like tea, and sharp chemicals clouding my senses. It was such a contrasting experience.

Bruce turned to me, an expression between hunger and regret forcing me to shiver and look him straight in the eye. A hand landed on my waist, holding me in place with gentle firmness. "I'm a monster, I could hurt you," he whispered, leaning into me like a touch starved kitten. The man screamed contradiction. "We shouldn't."

Vivid images of the Hulk and the rampages years prior flashed through my mind; the rubble, the collateral damage in the form of many lives. I barely remembered it, having been too little to really understand what was going on. One thing, though, I knew for sure: ever since the world became aware of Lyra's existence, there had been no incidents. Sure, the Hulk still appeared when there was a threat, but there were no documented incidents of the green creature running amok, accidentally.

"You won't hurt me," I spoke with conviction. Perhaps, I was bluffing just slightly but I wouldn't lie like that to myself. The variable, the... Twelve or so percent chance of things going... Awry, it made a small, malicious worm inside of me rejoice and fill my limbs with familiar adrenalised yearning. "You're not a monster. Far from it, actually," I used the hand that was not supporting me against the desk to gently cradle the side of his face, letting my fingertips brush over the rough five o'clock shadow on his cheek.

Bruce emitted a sound somewhere between an agitated grown and a pleading whine, sagging with the sound exhale, pressing himself flush with my chest. His face slipped from my palm, the warm tip of his nose running a steady line up my neck, sending goosebumps running wildly down my back as his hot breath tickled the arch of my throat.

"Baby," the nickname punched a stuttered gasp out of me with the intensity contained in just that one word. "I've been hearing all these amazing things about you," his voice dropped, low baritone rumbling straight into my ear. "I won't be able to hold back. I'll want you all to myself," his bicep flexed under my hand.

My knees would have bucked if I wasn't grasping onto Bruce for dear life after those words. I had some sense of personal pride in me, so while my body was an easy, traitorous thing, my mind was more than eager to participate in this game, to ping pong a little bit before... "Yeah? What things?" I breathed.

Teeth briefly closed around my tender skin, nipping for just a second. "You're kind, beautiful," his hand took a steadfast hold on the back of my neck, exposing my throat to his mouth. More skin to mark, more time to whisper. "Intelligent, bright and clever," the more he spoke, the fiercer he became. Bruce's grasp tightened until I was pliant in it, willingly following his silent commands. "A bit of a pain in the ass," a healthy dose of humour was added into the mix as my ass was roughly grabbed, our fronts pressed together at his insistence.

"That sounds about right," I didn't resist the sudden urge to snark, thoughts lazily floating in my head, like clouds on a bright sunny day, fleeting and sparse. None of them caught on. I was focused on feeling the need, on my need to feel.

A sharp smack landed on the plump of my ass, the sound resonating in the eerily quiet lab. The sounds of machinery had dulled at some point, leaving just the two of us panting our lust into each other's space. "I know you can be a good girl. Will you, princess?" His fingertips dug into my flesh, surpassing the soft sweatpants as if they weren't even there.

I could only nod, dumbly, overcome by the sudden rush of blood to my body. The life coarsing through me sang, demanding a release of the pent-up tension.

"What's that?" Bruce removed himself from my neck, catching my unfocused eyes with a crooked smirk on his lips.

"Yes," I swallowed, breathing through my mouth.

"Mmm," he hummed, running both hands over my sides, over the frayed edges of my Mötorhead top. He admired it, briefly, setting his eyes on the band logo that was right over my breasts. Having decided something to himself, Bruce promptly removed it, lifting it over my head with ease and leaving it right on the science lab table.

Taking hold of my hand, he walked over to a hidden set of sliding doors that revealed a rather large, frequently used bed, shutting them just as I walked in, wearing only my bra and borrowed sweats. My back was pressed to the door in mere seconds, hot palms chasing away the chill of the lab as Bruce slotted his lips over mine.

He tasted like something I've never had before. His lips - so plush and supple, took hold of the kiss with practiced gusto, sucking me in without a chance or the desire to escape. I drank from him, sucked on the bottom lip as his tongue explored my mouth, danced with mine.

The room was spinning, the ringing in my ears growing in volume. I was only partly aware of the sensation of sliding down the wall; our knees thudded on the carpeted floor simultaneously, heavy breathing the only noise I could distinguish.

"Breathe, baby, that's it," Bruce coaxed, gently stroking my nape. The soft cotton of his shirt crumpled under my fingers where I held onto him, desperately searching something to ground myself with.

The buckle of his belt clattered and then clinked again as he wrapped the worn leather around my wrists, bringing them together in front of my chest. I exhaled sharply at the intimate gesture, a whine bubbling up from my chest when Bruce used a single fingertip to raise my chin.

My eyes met his; a brown iris tinged with the faintest of green around the outer edge. "This okay, princess?" He sought my face for confirmation, for agreement, for anything.

I nodded, stuttering mid-gesture, remembering our previous interaction. My mouth did not want to cooperate but I forced it to, even if it came out as little more than a pitiful mewl. "Yes, daddy," the word, sweet and sticky like fruit syrup, poured from my lips.

My eyes slid shut as my conscience - or was it common sense? - took hold of the situation. I was on my knees in front of my best friends dad, a virtual stranger, and I'd just-

Bruce's soft chuckle stopped the negative spiral of my thoughts. "That's my girl," he sounded a tad more breathless now, a hairliner in his perfect façade of self-control. As if he'd sensed my indecisiveness, he tugged on the makeshift restraints, pulling me closer, closer and into his lap.

A warm, solid chest with a healthy amount of fluff greeted me. Bruce let my lax, pliant body fall into his arms, catching me effortlessly and bringing my face to his lips. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, you're my good girl," he peppered soft kisses all over my flaming cheeks, my twitching nose, my fluttering lashes.

"Please," I begged, shame giving way to the flood of arousal that seemingly hit me all at once. I was aware of the dampness collecting in my panties, the stiffness of my limbs from holding back the ravenous desire to paw at Bruce like a wild animal. "Please, daddy..."

"I know, I know, baby girl," he soothed, not stopping his tender assault on my face. "Daddy will make it all better. I know just what you need," Bruce finally pulled away. I heard the sound of him undoing his zipper and then the awkward shuffle of him shucking off his pants.

Somewhere in between of all that, he'd ended up sitting down on the bed, wearing only his boxers, his shirt hanging open. The red crawled down his chest, partially masked by the coarse salt and pepper hair; his lips were cherry red and his hair was sticking out in odd directions. Bruce looked sinful.

My eyes inadvertently landed on the impressive bulge in his boxers; in response to my widened eyes, he reached out for it, stroking the outline of his thick cock through his boxers. "Like what you see, baby?"

"Yeah," My mouth watered.

"Baby wants a fat cock?" He teased, sounding like he knew exactly what he was doing, testing my self-control like that. With a flick of his wrist, it sprang free, slapping against his tummy, coating the fine hairs with drops of clear, musky fluid.

I swallowed, feeling the taste of him from afar and yearning for more where I was parked between his spread legs.

In a gesture almost loving, he tugged on the belt still wrapped around my wrists, bringing my face to his leaking shaft and my hands to the base of it, letting me feel the weight of his balls in them. The cock throbbed, neglected, weighed down by the heaviness of his full balls.

"Go ahead, baby, suck my cock," the encouragement came with a gentle push to my head.

I obediently followed, wrapping my lips around the pink, moist crown of it, a hum beginning in the back of my throat. My God, Bruce tasted heavenly... I whirled and slipped my tongue a around his head, I dipped into the slit to drink the nectar right from the tap, idly coming to awareness of the broken, choked moans coming from the man above me.

Raising my head got me a view of his chin; head thrown back, the lax O of his mouth glistened in the meager light. My eyes slid lower, to the flex of his abs. Bruce fought hard to stay still. The desire consumed me, a sudden rush of power at having Dr. Bruce Banner's cock in my mouth and the man at my mercy; I inhaled, sliding my mouth further and further down his throbbing length.

"Fuck," I heard him mutter before his hands gripped the sides of my face. "Hungry, baby, are you?" His eyes glowed a faint green; I shuddered at the power he held within himself. Held back for me. "Tap my thigh twice," he spoke and I had no choice but to obey. "Okay. Do that if it gets too much, alright?" I nodded. He gave me a wide, beaming smile. "Good girl," he praised, experimentally bucking his hips into my mouth a few times.

In and out. I focused on my breathing, sharp, little inhales: his girth took up all the free space in my mouth, the tip of it barely fit into my throat. The burn, the stretch; I felt every tenth of an inch, every bulging attempt of my body to accommodate Bruce's huge cock. It was delicious, I couldn't help but crave the same stretch in my neglected, sopping wet pussy.

"Fuck, you're taking it so well," Bruce moaned wetly. "Your mouth... S'like heaven... Could fuck it all day, that's my good girl," the rambling increased in it's intensity as the pace of his hips hastened. Drool and tears flowed like a river; my chin was dropping with it, spit connected my face to his pelvis. "Oh," there was a brief pause to his movements; suddenly, he pulled out, fisting the base of his cock, staring me down with a ferocious gleem in his eye.

I must've looked a straight mess; my face like a crime scene, my clothes disheveled, covered in fluids and most of all - I was desperately grinding against my own feet, too focused on the glorious cock in front of me to notice the weakness of my own flesh. "Daddy?" I questioned, wincing at the grating of my own voice.

Without a word, the belt was tugged once more; in a set of movements just slightly north of acrobatic, I found myself laying on my back in the middle of the bed, my sweatpants suffering a haste demise in the corner of the room.

Bruce crawled atop me, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses on every inch of my skin he could reach, mouthing something inaudible into every pore of my body. As he drew closer, I discerned bitten-off phrases, stringing my desire into sticky, tangy mess at the apex of my thighs.

"My perfect baby girl," the words reached me; all tongue, he kissed me once more, arching into me as much as I arched into his hot grasp. A brief inspection of my face - he was satisfied with what he saw - and Bruce crawled back, settling in between my spread legs, breathing hot air on the lips of my sex still covered by a sopping wet piece of fabric.

"Oh fuck," I yelped, feeling him smooch it soundly, the hot wetness of his tongue penetrating the meagre lace barrier with ease.

He moved it aside anyway, with a single finger, giving my pussy a broad lick, moaning into my cunt like a man gone mad. It took a few more licks for him to feel sated enough to surface, all the while holding my hips down. I was so sensitive, I felt even the tiniest flicks to my clit, I was sure if I didn't cum then and there, I would explode.

"Such a pretty pussy, princess," his heavy breathing paused briefly. He nipped my thigh. "So wet, is that all for me?"

"Yes, yes, daddy," I rasped, pushing my cunt into his face, losing all shame and trepidation.

"So tasty," he continued the torture, outlining my lower lips before taking another nosedive right into it, swirling his tongue around every fold, sucking onto my clit.

Bruce ate my pussy until my thighs shook, until my core quivered and I could no longer hold back the choked, ragged screams starting somewhere in the low of my belly and coming out as unholy, all-consuming yowls filled with unadulterated lust.

"Louder for me, baby," he inhaled rapidly, and then, he sucked on my clit.

The world stopped, halted on it's axis, every muscle going rigid in my body and every nerve ending simultaneously coming alive. Faintly, I heard a chant, repeating two syllables over and over, it sounded like my voice - but I had no control over myself. All I could do was weakly grind my hips against Bruce's mouth, faltering when the crashing waves of my orgasm began to recede.

The infuriating overstimulation stopped; blinking hazily, I saw Bruce's eyes glimmer brown and green in front of my face. His nose and his chin was glistening with a thin coat of sticky fluid; disheveled and red, he looked a man on the verge of a revelation.

Something hot and blunt nosed at my cunt, bringing back the moment to me - I realized, with a great deal of impatience - how empty I felt. The decision was minute. "Daddy, fuck me, please, I want your cock," the words came easily.

"That's my girl," his eyes fluttered shut as the first inches squeezed through the snug of my cunt. I was sopping wet and as relaxed as I'd be, but even then, it was a stretch. "Good girl, good baby," the mumbled praise made me whine and my pussy clamp on his cock. "Relax, let daddy fill you up." Breathing through it, I consciously unwound myself around him, letting my palms rest freely on his shoulders. "Let daddy take care of you."

Like melted sugar, his husked words stuck to me inside and out. Short, sharp thrusts; Bruce was patiently burrowing himself inside of me, making his way to reach the deepest parts of me I didn't even know existed. His cock head pressed against something hard and spongy inside of me; stars burst behind my eyes I'd clamped shut on reflex.

I moaned weakly, tugging on his arm, pressing myself closer. It felt so, so good. Like a raw nerve had been exposed and he was stroking it, pushing that little switch with every stroke of his hips.

"I'm not gonna last," he muttered as once again, my cunt squeezed him snugly in place, just as greedy as I was to feel that tiny explosion spark up within me again.

"I want..." I panted. Bruce set in a punishing pace after that, a palm under my ass, squeezing it so hard there would definitely be bruising. I craved it, I needed to see the evidence this was not some elaborate fever dream. "I want... Daddy to fill me up," words came out garbled; it sounded like gibberish to my ears but Bruce - they spurred him on.

"Oh yeah?" That breathless, boyish cockiness was back in his voice again; despite how fucked out he sounded, I prepared myself for something truly out of this world. I just knew.

He sat back on his shins, dragging me by the hips with him, making me shiver and moan and twitch and clamp onto him again as his throbbing cock hit that special spot again. And again. And again.

"Look at me, baby," a hand on my belly and his eyes burning right through me. As they slid down, towards the apex of my thighs where he was still moving within me almost lazily, I saw it.

"Oh fuck," I couldn't utter much more than a two-syllabled profanity. There was a bulge in my belly, just above my pelvis, moving in rhythm with Bruce's hips. And then he pressed on it and I-

Something, someone, somewhere was screaming. The noise was loud and pitched, but even then, I could barely hear it though the neverending waves of bliss that enveloped my whole being. Gold and silver at the edges of my rapidly darkening vision; I was drowning in something that smelled and felt like Bruce. The safety of his arms, the warmth of his heated body, the rapid snapping of his hips-

Oh.

"I'm gonna, fuck," the last word was but a ghost of a human speech. Growling low and filthy, Bruce leaned into my ear, his breath hot and moist. "Mine," his hips stuttered, his cock nestled deep, the sensation bordering on painful, forcefully extracted pleasure. It throbbed with every spurt of his seed; each one felt like a solid punch in the gut to my abused pussy.

"Daddy," I mewled, my body jerking away from him but my mind and my soul yearning for more. His rapidly softening flesh made the idea of being separated unbearable.

"S'good, s'my good girl, m'so proud," he mumbled, looking slightly disoriented as he removed himself from me, immediately pressing me to his side and interwining any free, flailing limbs.

We laid in silence, each of us slowly coming back to Earth after the completely unreal experience we just had. I didn't know what to think, didn't know what to do as the realization set in, the post-orgasmic haze giving way to a sudden rush of clarity.

"I can hear you overthinking," Bruce's voice was fond.

Before I could muster up the courage to snark back, the divided doors opened, one very concerned Tony Stark standing there, armed with a tranquilizer gun in one hand and a pack of cookies in the other. His mouth, previously open to (probably) yell at us, remained as open when his eyes had registered the scene in front of him.

I stared at Bruce. Bruce stared at Tony.

"The noise," he offered in the way of explanation, dangling the pack of cookies, looking, for once - speechless. He recovered quickly, however, even if the remark was a thin ghost of his usual sass: "You pick the nerd over me? I'm hurt," he scoffed in mock irritation, although I was pretty sure I saw some satisfaction in there, too.

Bruce looked at me. I looked at Bruce.

A mischievous grin slowly crept up his face, an identical one beginning to appear on my own face seconds after.

"Hey, two nerds is better than one, right?" My response is what did it; or, rather, it was the evidence of my previous throat-fucking clearly audible in my voice... Tony dropped the cookies and then, the tranq gun.

Bruce Banner taglist: @pilloclock @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @persephonehemingway @mostly-marvel-musings @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @sapphicnoodle69 @couldntbedamned @xoxabs88xox @marvelsbanner @tripleyeeet @tatestripedsweater @stuckybarton

[scented-morker]

Speak now

A beeping sound echoes in the small bakery, the scent of freshly baked cookies enveloping you like a warm hug. A bell over the door jingles as someone enters the shop and you all out a “I’m in the back, I’ll be with you shortly” as you maneuver the hot pan out of the way.

You walk to the front of the store, expecting to see one of the sweet old ladies who frequent your business, and it’s a struggle to hide your surprise when you’re met with the handsome face of a man about your age.

“Uh hello,” a smile situates itself on your face as you approach where the man is standing, admiring the pastries through your display case.

“Hello” he stands up straight, his full height making you crane your neck slightly as he smiles back at you.

“Is there anything I can help you with today?”

He explains that he's getting a party together for the HYBE corporation's end of the quarter celebration, and is looking for a caterer for desserts.

"Oh, yeah absolutely, why don't I set you up with a tasting"

You weren't completely sure what they did in that building, other than that it was fancy and they got paid a lot for it. But an event is an event, and you liked catering events.

"Actually I think I'm good, I already know what I want"

A jolt of surprise runs through your body as he says it, confused on how he could already know. You're very certain he's never been in your business before, as you would definitely remember a face like his.

"Alright then, um how big of a headcount are we looking at"

"About 100 workers and their families, just put me down for," he glances back at the pastry cases to read the tags sitting in front of the baked goods, "75 of those tarts, both in raspberry and mint, 50 of those vanilla twist pastries, and 60 of the chocolate cannoli's"

You furiously scribbled down his order as he spoke, internally freaking out at how much time it would take you to bake everything, eventually looking back up when he stopped talking.

"Okay and that is under what name, and for what date?"

"Lee Heeseung, and next Saturday"

You grimaced at the short notice, thankfully Heeseung didn't notice, writing down the last bit of information on the order slip before shooting him a wide grin.

"Alright I will get that all worked out for you, thank you for the order"

He flashed a beautiful smile and you immediately smiled back, trying your best to ignore the way your stomach did flips at the sight.

"While I'm here, can I also just get whatever that chocolate thing is in the display case"

He said it with a slightly embarrassed chuckle, followed quickly by "just don't tell my boss, he'll probably give my nutritionist a heart attack"

You laughed with him, going to get the pastry he ordered, ringing it up and passing it over the counter, quickly snapping your hands back into yourself at the brush of his fingers.

Heeseung doesn't seem to notice as he takes a seat at one of the tables, continuing small talk with you as you replace items in the display case with fresh ones.

When you finished your task he was still eating and nobody else had come into the store, so you start wiping down the tables around him, accepting his offer when he asks you to sit with him.

"So you own this place?"

"Yep! It was my grandmas before the previous owner took over, and they just happened to be retiring when I graduated so it got passed down to me"

"That's impressive, owning your own business this young"

His eyes shined genuinely when he said it and you could tell that he really was impressed.

"Thank you, I'm very proud of it"

He smiles again and somehow you just know that he's a good person. The way he actually cares about the things you talk about, not just pretending to be interested. You could tell he loved seeing other people happy with the look he gave you when you talked, and maybe it was unreasonable, but right then and there a part of you fell for Lee Heeseung.

"You seem quite impressive yourself, working for a big fancy company like HYBE at your age!" You complimented back.

"Oh it's nothing, just a," he paused for just slightly longer than necessary before saying "an internship."

"That's still so cool! What's it like?"

You propped your chin on your hand as you waited for his response, not noticing the way he stared when you did so.

"Uh it's really not as cool as you think," he brushes off the question, "hey, do you want to go for a walk with me?"

The change of topic caught you slightly off guard, but you recovered quickly, checking the time on the clock and realizing it was time to close.

"Yeah that'd be great, just let me close up"

You go through the routine, counting your cash box and storing away pastries, eventually locking the door behind you as you and Heeseung head out into the evening.

"Where do you want to go?" You ask, since he was the one that suggested a walk, and he smiled back at you as soon as the words left your mouth.

"I thought you'd never ask"

He grabs your hand, excitedly pulling you to follow him as he passed through alleys and patches of trees, before eventually stopping, letting out a "ta-da"

You turn in a slow circle, taking in the view, willow trees hanging down around the bank of a river, small flowers covering the base of the trees.

"Oh my-"

You finally turned back to the man next to you, finding his sparkling eyes already on you.

"This is beautiful Heeseung"

His smile is bright enough to light up the slowly darkening night around you as it graces his face, and he pulls you over to sit down under one of the trees.

"Hey Heeseung, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah sure, anything"

"How'd you already know what you wanted to order? I'm sure I've never seen you in my store before, I would remember you"

"Because I'm just so handsome?" He teases, laughing even harder when you reply "yeah, exactly".

"Well Y/N, can I be honest with you?"

"Yeah, of course"

"I've tasted your food before, even before you owned that place"

Your eyes widened at his confession, head cocking to the side as you tried to think of where he could have had your pastries.

"Were you at an even catered?"

He shakes his head dramatically, mumbling something unintelligible.

"What was that?" You lean closer to try and hear what he says and he looks up then, face mere inches from yours as he repeats himself.

"I said 'you give a girl her first kiss and she doesn't even remember you'"

You let out a small gasp as you realize and your face flares up in embarrassment.

Seventh grade, you had your first kiss with a boy who went to the same music classes as you, and you remember embarrassingly bringing him baked goods every class after that. His name was Heeseung, and now that you think carefully you can see the resemblance to the man sitting in front of you now.

"Oh my gosh that's so embarrassing, how'd you know it was me?"

He decides not to tell you he's remembered you since that little peck in middle school and has been begging his boss to order from your bakery so he would have an excuse to see you again.

"You haven't changed much since seventh grade" was his response instead, and you slapped his arm at the comment.

You two spent the next three hours just talking, catching up on each other's lives and reconnecting after your time away.

Before you knew it the sun had completely set and there were no light posts in the area Heeseung had brought you, you now struggled to see the boys pretty smile only a foot in front of you.

"Its getting late, and you probably have work tomorrow, we should probably start heading back."

He checked his phone at your mention, and you pretended not to notice the giant number of notifications while his eyes widened at the time.

"I didn't even realize it had gotten so late, let me take you back"

You're glad he offered, not sure you would be able to make it back to the cafe without his guidance.

The way back seemed much shorter than when you had been pulled down it earlier that day, and you found yourself disappointed that he didn't grab your hand again.

"Well here we are"

He looked around once you made it back to the familiar building, before turning to you.

"Where's your car?"

"Oh, I live pretty close so I just walk, it's easier than trying to find a parking spot in the city traffic anyway"

He nodded his head along with your statement but then shook his head slightly.

"You can't walk home alone at this time of night"

You felt touched by his concern, but fought him on it anyway.

"It's fine Hee, it's only like four blocks away"

"Nope, no way. That's way too far, come on"

He waved his hand towards you and you looked down at it curiously.

"What?"

"I'm walking you home, now come on"

He grabbed your hand again, both of you smiling at how right it felt.

You reached your house in about five minutes, and you tried to hide your disappointment at the prospect of your fun night coming to an end.

"Do you want to come in"

His eyes lit up at the offer but were quickly turned down to look at his feet.

"I'd love to, but I have work early tomorrow"

"Oh, okay"

It was quiet for a few moments before he made eye contact again, taking a step closer to your body and pulling you in his arms in a friendly hug.

"Thank you"

You hugged him back, wrapping your arms around his torso.

"I should be the one thanking you, that spot was beautiful, and I had a really great time. Thank you for taking me with you"

Little did you know that he wasn't thanking you for the few hours you had spent together. But he said "of course" anyway.

"Well goodnight"

"Goodnight"

You went to go inside, sticking your key in the lock before quickly thinking of something.

"Wait!"

Heeseung looked at you quizzically, waiting for you to say whatever it was you had just thought of.

"I need your number," he raised one eyebrow and you quickly added "so you can text me when you get home safe, I would be an awful friend if I let you get kidnapped after you so graciously walked me home"

He laughed at your reasoning, but handed you his phone anyway as you two quickly added each other's contact.

You took a look at his contact, bursting out in laughter at the sight of it.

"Did you really put your name in as 'Heedungie' with a bunch of hearts?"

He looked proud of himself for making you laugh and he nodded his head.

"Yes, yes I did"

"No fair, give me your phone back I want to give you something embarrassing too"

You didn't think he actually would, but his phone was held out to you and you took it, quickly turning around and taking an exaggeratedly cute selfie to set as the contact picture before putting in a nickname for your name, complete with the same aggressive hearts as his.

"There"

He took the phone back and laughed at the improved contact.

"Perfect"

You shared one last smile before you entered your house, Heeseung leaving your porch after seeing you securely in, making sure he walked a block away before calling his driver so you wouldn't see.

Only once he was safe in the confines of the backseat did he look at the notifications on his phone.

23 missed texts from his father and 7 calls from his mother.

He clicked on the notification, skimming his eyes over the texts, rolling his eyes at their content. He didn't even read all the way through before shutting his phone off, throwing it across the seat for the rest of the ride.

You had just stepped out of the shower when you heard your phone ding, and you paused the music to go check the text.

'Just got home, all in one piece and no kidnapping attempts were made on me'

You laughed at his text, shooting back something along the lines of 'I'm glad to hear that' before heading out of your bathroom to get dressed.

Heeseung texted you a few more times after that, and you found yourself giggling at his messages exactly like seventh grade you did. Eventually you said your good nights, after you had scolded him for staying up when he needed to get up in the morning, and you smiled one last time at the obnoxiously cute contact name before floating off to sleep.

You went to work the next day, and the one after that, and there was no real difference in your life except for the constant texting and the extra bounce in your step. Even your regulars commented on how happy you looked.

Heeseung liked to come to the cafe on his lunch break, and you started making an extra lunch in the morning after the first day when he ordered three pieces of cake as his meal.

It was Thursday, and you were currently trying to find someone to help you bake the giant order for the party.

"Come on please, it's huge, and even one person would be a huge help to me"

"Sorry I can't, I'm babysitting for my neighbors the whole week"

You let out a sigh at yet another no, and put your phone back down on the counter.

You were so absorbed in the call that you hadn't heard Heeseung come in, and you almost screamed when you looked up to see him standing in front of you.

"Woah sorry," he was laughing so he obviously wasn't that sorry, "I didn't want to interrupt your call"

"It's okay"

"What do you need help with?"

It took you a moment to realize he meant the phone call and you let out another sigh at your empty search.

"I'm trying to get someone to help me with the order for the party, it's the biggest order I've gotten and it's just me so I can't make it all in one day by myself"

"Oh," he paused "what are you going to do"

"I don't know" you shrugged, "I'll have to start making things tomorrow, everything that would be able to stay overnight so that I don't have to do it all on Saturday, but even with that I don't know if I'll be able to get everything tomorrow done. Maybe I'll put a hiring sign up and hope someone applies by tomorrow"

He tried to stifle his giggles at how dumb of an idea that would be, but you still noticed.

"Heeeeee," you whined, holding the sound out for longer than needed, "stop laughingggg I know it's dumb. I'm trying to avoid a breakdown okay?"

He finally stopped laughing, and his eyes lit up like he just thought of an amazing idea.

"I can help you!!"

You look at him like he's crazy and he shrugs nonchalantly, "What? It's a good idea."

"No Hee, I would never ask you to do that. Besides it's literally for your order, I'm not making you cook for it, especially not on a work day"

"Nope, it's too late. I've made up my mind. I'm helping you"

"No Heeseung, you're not"

"Yes I am. Okay now I'm gonna run away before you can yell at me more. I'll be here tomorrow at- wait, what time do you even open?"

"Nine AM"

"-Then I will be here at nine AM"

"No Heeseung!"

He takes off running and you try to chase him down, both of your laughter ricocheting off the walls. A few people outside stop and watch as you run like children, most of them smiling at the sight.

"Heeseung"

"Nope, not happening"

He runs around you in a circle, quickly running up to the side of your body giving you a peck on the cheek and then taking off back towards the direction of his work.

"See you at nine AM" is the last thing you hear from him, a quiet message because of how far away he was, even though you know he was shouting when he said it.

You shake your head as you watch him turn the corner, turning around to come face to face with one of your regulars.

"So that's why you've been so happy lately?"

You try to think of something to say, some denial of how smitten you were, but all that came out was a giggle, one that solidified your current appearance of a lovesick school girl. You immediately slapped your hand over your mouth, embarrassed at your reaction, but the woman just laughed before heading into the building, you following shortly after to serve her.

And the next day, right at nine AM, the bell above your door rang, and in came the boy that had been the cause of your racing heart all week.

"Here I am"

"You're the worst"

"You say that, but you're smiling"

"Shut up"

He giggled as he followed you to the back of the building, teasing you more about how you were accepting his help anyway.

"I was hoping you wouldn't show up, but I guess since you're here I might as well get the help"

It wasn't true, you were up all night trying to decipher if he was actually going to show up. You even got out your cute apron and put some extra effort into your appearance this morning.

"I would recommend putting this on"

You toss him an apron to protect his clothes, going behind him and tying a nice little bow. He ignored the way his body tingled where your hands brushed it, and your breath hitched when he turned you around to do the same thing.

"This is my job Hee, I could tie it myself"

"I know," was all he said, letting his hands linger on your waist as he turned you back around to face him.

He tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear, his face a little bit too close to yours.

"Whatcha doing?" Your voice came out as a whisper and the way he smiled made your heart beat even faster then it already was, something you didn't think was possible.

"What do you want me to be doing?"

You gave a small laugh, throwing your arms behind his neck and angling your head up to get closer to the tall man above you.

"Does this answer your question?" You asked, referring to your previous actions.

"I think it's a pretty good indication" he spoke through a smile, leaning down to brush his lips against yours softly.

It was barely a kiss, absolutely no pressure from either end, but the butterflies in your stomach absolutely erupted at the contact, and you couldn't even try for an actual kiss because of the huge smiles on your faces.

"Did you feel it?" He whispered, and even without an explanation you knew what he meant.

A giggle left your lips, "yeah I felt it".

A jingle sounded as someone walked in the store and you pulled away from him to go serve the customer.

He was standing against the counter when you walked in, still just basking in the feeling of what had just happened.

"Alright lover boy, time to get to work"

He smiled at the nickname, coming up to you and spinning you around once, before speaking.

"Yes chef"

You laughed at his antics and gave him directions on how to help you start the tart shell.

By noon you were well ahead of schedule, the playlist you had chosen now blaring as you screamed the lyrics together, flour dusted over your faces as you took a break from kneading the dough for the twists.

"Thank you for this"

"Helping you bake?"

"No, everything else too"

He smiled and pulled you back in, this time for a real kiss.

That night you both went home early so that you could get up early for last minute party prep, after a goodnight kiss (or two, or three, or four...) at the your front door.

"Okay I'll see you tomorrow"

"Can't wait"

He hesitated to pull away from you, not quite wanting to leave, but you pushed him lightly.

"One more?"

He puckered up and you laughed giving him one last kiss before running into your house, hearing his whines through the door.

"Okay baby, I'll see you tomorrow"

You almost screamed when the nickname left his lips and you could hear the laugh he let out when he heard your squeal from the other side of your door.

**

"You can go to the back room, there will be another girl in there and a changing station set up, guests are starting to arrive now"

You listened to the other worker speaking, trying not to show how tired you were after finishing all of the baking that morning.

Following her instructions, you headed to the back room to change out of your sweats and into something more presentable for the party. By the time you had exited the back, you could hear the chatter of people and could tell the party was starting.

They started by giving a small speech about how well they had done that quarter, thanking all of the employees for their work and their families for supporting.

Within 30 minutes you were carrying out trays of your pastries, everyone mostly finished with dinner and some random business video was playing in the front of the room.

You walked out to stand along the wall with the other miscellaneous staff people working the event, and watched as they moved on to giving out awards for things like "best costumer service" and "highest sell rate". The entire time you were looking around for Heeseung, trying to spot him over by some lanky guys who looked like interns, but no luck.

"Alright now that all of the awards have been passed out, an important announcement from CEO Lee"

You looked around trying to spot the man in question, eyes eventually landing on an old man, grey hair and a pinstriped suit, as he used a cane to lift himself out of the chair and up to the stage.

You spotted Heeseung then, sitting at the same table the old man had just left, along with an older looking woman you assumed to be CEO Lee's wife, and another male that looked to be a little older than Heeseung.

You thought about trying to get his attention, but the CEO soon started speaking, and your eyes were pulled away from him.

"As I think we all know, I'm not as young as I was when we started this business," there were a few laughs from around the room, and the man waited for them to be done before moving on. "I don’t want you to worry, I’m perfectly healthy, but I, along with my family, have decided that it would be best for me to step down from the company."

Murmurs erupted throughout the room, and it was enough to tell you that the employees had no prior knowledge of this decision. You look over to Heeseung to gage his reaction, but instead of surprise or confusion, his face is laced with something that looks more like... disappointment? You decide it must be the lighting that's obscuring his actual expression, since that wouldn't make much sense.

"I will be retiring within six months, and my son, I know you've all seen him around the company," the female population seems especially excited about these words, a few turning to make faces at each other, you even hear one say 'hot boss' to her friend.

"Heeseung, please come up here"

You can hardly conceal your shock as you see your Heeseung stand up from his seat and go to the front of the room.

You furrow your eyebrows as he stands next to who you now realize must be his father.

"Heeseung will be taking over the company after my leave"

Your eyebrows shoot up as the words register in your mind.

Heeseung is going to be CEO of this giant company within 6 months.

Maybe you should have been mad that he lied to you, that he hid this part of himself from you. He definitely didn't tell you the position of his father, or the fact that he was going to be coming into said position, but you found yourself realizing that you didn’t really care.

'That's one hell of an internship' was the first thing you thought, and you laughed at yourself for it.

When you zoned back in to what was going on, Heeseung was ending what you figured was a short speech about him taking over, and you clapped along with the rest of the crowd.

His eyes met yours and you swore there was relief on it when he saw you let out a "whoo" along with a few others.

Heeseung steps down from the podium, taking a few hands that were held out to him, giving handshakes and responding to comments from men in high up positions.

You were called to the kitchen to pack up the few pastries that weren't needed, and the loud conversing of voices faded with the closing of the door.

You smiled giddily at yourself while transferring tarts to boxes.

'I can't believe I'm dating the new CEO'

Wait-

We're you dating the new CEO? Technically you'd never gone on a date or at least one that you called a date. And he had never asked you to be his significant other. But you kissed? Multiple times.

"What is going on in that pretty brain of yours?"

You almost dropped the tart in your hand you were so surprised by the voice. A quick look reveals the person that had you so zoned out in the first place.

"You were thinking so hard it looked like smoke was about to come out of your ears"

You can't help but laugh at his words, finally continuing your actions of packing up the food and thinking up a lie.

"Just thinking about how my little intern became CEO in a week," worry crossed his face, but it disappeared immediately when you continued, "you must have been an AMAZING intern"

He laughs and moves next to you to help.

"So I might have lied a little bit"

"A little bit?"

You raise your eyebrows at him and he corrects himself with a laugh.

"Okay it was kinda big, but I just didn't want you to treat me different or anything"

He gives you his big doe eyes as you place the last pastry in the box, sealing it up to be taken to your car.

"Hee, you know I'm not mad right?"

"Really?"

"Yeah"

He smiles, and you realize too late why he's coming closer to you, your feet leaving the floor as he spins you around.

"Hee, Hee, stop" you laugh out, and he finally puts you back on the ground.

"Okay, so you don't hate me"

You cup his face, leaning in until your noses are almost touching.

"Correct, I don't hate you"

"Then in that case," he backs up and you pout at the increased distance.

He takes your hands in his, looking at you in a way that has your knees about ready to collapse.

"Would you want to be, my official official, girlfriend?"

You giggle at how he seemed to have the perfect timing, pulling on his hands to finally plant a soft kiss on his lips.

"I would love to"

Part II

[siimjaeyun]

Chapter 1: Beast from Below

Synopsis: When five teens set their hearts on mystery solving, maybe they'll just uncover something that's a lot bigger than fake masks.

Series Masterlist

‐----------------------------------

"Another mystery solved!" Five palms met at the center before the metal bars behind them clasped shut; once more did they find themselves enclosed at the city jail. 

"Time and time again. Must I remind you kids about not interfering with city affairs." 

The man pinched his nose bridge before giving them a piercing look through the cage. They expected nothing less from Chief Kim: always bossing them around like toddlers and painting them as fools. 

"Just fantastic. Can't wait for another pep talk from my father." Heeseung fell to the ground dramatically as he looked at his four friends. This occurrence of the city jail never fazed them, and at this point, neither did the fear of being punished by his father. 

A couple minutes elapsed before Chief Kim made his way back to the five teens in the cell. With one movement, the door bolted open, allowing them to go home at once. 

"Wow. Only an hour wait. New record." Sunoo mischievously smiled and hung his shoulder over Jungwon, his shorter companion. 

"Beats that time we spent the night." Sunghoon only scoffed at the duo, no longer amazed by the words that came out of their mouths. 

"Heeseung! Y/n! Hurry up won't you!" You and heeseung strutted through the doors of the city building. You knew heeseung would be faced with utter disappointment from his father, head of the city, but you knew he could care less at this point. 

"Park y/n!" You hated the voice trailing in front of you. Your eyes slowly made their way to meet your brothers, a teen boy who's purpose in life was to delight others and be the puppet of any tiger parent. 

"Go away Jay." You shoved him in the opposite direction and tried to make your way into the van. Frankly, he was the last person you wanted to see. 

"Mom and dad asked me to pick you up. Jungwon and Sunoo as well." He eyed the youngsters goofing off in the background, and when they met his gaze, they walked off the van. 

"Catch you guys later okay?" Sunghoon and Heeseung drove off in the mini-van, leaving the four in silence. 

You said nothing and sat in the back seat of the old Honda. The smell of pine was obvious, and the stack of prep books in the back seat didn't faze you either. 

Jay dropped off Sunoo and Jungwon at their home, and later made his way back to your own. 

"It wouldn't hurt to stay out of trouble y'know." He finally broke the silence and looked at you through the car mirror. 

"I could care less about what you think. Plus, city jail visits from mysteries beat being my parent's trophy any day." 

------- 

"You should've seen our parents look. I think they don't bother with grounding us anymore." Jungwon continued to chat about the lack of punishment he and Sunoo received. 

"Mine don't mind at this point. They told me to might as well study forensics if I'm into silly mysteries." Sunghoon laughed a bit and scanned the tension of the van. 

"Better than whatever my father, the head of the city, had to say. He just laughed and insisted I be a role model." Heeseung added to the conversation as he drove the kids in the van. Being designated driver had its perks and its downs.

"I think I win considering Jay fucking perfect Park had to try to give me the 'stay out of trouble' peptalk." You crossed your arms and entertained yourself with the surrounding buildings. Trees, children running, a giant monster coming out the sewer. 

"Heeseung!!" Abruptly, a pile of fog escaped from the sewer, blinding Heeseung who tried his best to stop the van from crashing. 

"Looks like a mystery has arrived." Once Heeseung was safely able to stop the car, the rest of you left the van as well. 

Small droplets of water dancing were heard from the ground below. The five of you climbed down the ladder, stepping with caution of course. 

You trailed off with Sunghoon and let the bright light of your flashlights illuminate the cave. 

"Why are we in a cave?" Confusion struck your minds, there was supposed to be a river of sewage water. Why you had stepped foot on a cave tricked your minds. 

The teens continued to explore the cave, sharp rocks and pools of water were at your feet. As the light continued to roam the black and gray walls of the cave, a golden object shined from afar.

"Sunghoon, look." You picked up the object and your hands met with a locket. The locket opened and revealed a photograph of a young couple, probably of your same age. Before you could ponder more about the couple, a terrified shriek left Sunoo's mouth. 

"What's wrong!??" Heeseung followed Sunoo's fingers and he came face to face with petrified bodies. 

Three workers were frozen in a pile of green goop. 

----- 

"So?" Jungwon asked the officer with signs of intriguement, but he was not interested in the young one's questions. 

"Dad." You turned and saw Mr.Lee make his way to Heeseung, grasping his shoulders once he had arrived. 

"Do us a favor and go to school." He left almost immediately, and you were scared about what would happen next. 

Turns out that 'next event' meant running away with one of the green creatures. 

When you had arrived at school, Sunghoon and Heeseung plopped the green creature onto the table of Professor Kang, the science teacher. 

"You think you can help?" 

Professor Kang placed the stethoscope around his neck and began inspecting the creature. 

"Well, it's alive; I'll tell you that." He continued to pace around the table, hesitant in informing the group about the odd human in front of them. 

"Hey, sorry to bother you Professor Kang, but um...I was hoping to submit my form." A boy stood awkwardly by the door with a thin piece of paper in his hand. His black hair covered most of his forehead, and the only visible part was his shy smile. 

"Come in, you weren't interrupting anything. In the meantime, I suggest you go off with this thing." Professor Kang turned his way to address the newcomer in the room; the boy responded and followed him to his desk.  

"Quickly, quickly, I've got a class to teach!" Professor Kang left the room once attending to the stranger's needs. 

"You heard the man, lift with your legs." You giggled slightly as you saw Sunoo hesitate at touching the green slime. 

"You guys need help?" The voice behind you observed quietly, and almost gasped slightly when seeing what exactly you were trying to carry. 

"It's fine, but thanks." Heeseung threw the body over his shoulders and made his way out the door. 

"You're Jake right?" Sunghoon immediately began a conversation with the young boy, and didn't see his friends waiting by the door. 

"Wanna come?" 

The three of you wanted to kill Sunghoon for inviting a stranger to these sort of things, but it was merely too late and the unknown boy looked too nice to shoo away. 

"Sure, beats sitting through Professor Min's lecture." 

Jake trailed behind the trio as he chatted with Sunghoon. Heeseung through the van spotted the newcomer, and was slightly confused considering no one had ever tagged alonged. 

"We've got a monster to catch, hurry and get in the van!" You opened the door with force and welcomed Jake into the back. 

"This is Jake by the way, he's joining us for today." Sunoo introduced Heeseung to Jake, letting his mouth ramble on about the few details he had already learned. 

"Where to captain?" 

"RM's studio of course." The rhythm of the music played quietly in the background, and they all found comfort in having Jake around, they didn't expect themselves to be given their history. 

"So you guys travel in a van solving mysteries?" 

"Pretty much. We get thrown in the city jail occasionally." Jungwon mentioned the detail nonchalantly and expected Jake's natural surprise. 

------ 

It was late that night when the group gave back the body to Professor Kang. 

The teacher's steps were audible as he trailed back and forth between one table to the next. He became startled at the sudden noise of the janitor mopping in the hallway. He peered outward and went back to his work. 

Before long, and with an audible gasp, his body was now entrapped and enclosed in the similar green goop on the ceiling. 

------

"It's all my fault!" Heeseung banged his head on the table and looked at his friends with a sad expression. 

"Don't say that. After all, besides Jake, we all helped steal the body from the authorities." Sunoo patted his back gently and observed Jake who placed a container of green smush on the table. 

"I managed to collect a sample, maybe it'll help us." 

Jungwon and Sunoo were drawn to the fruity smell, and hunger couldn't stop them from nearing the sample of the monster. 

"Don't eat that!!!" Before they could stop him, Jungwon and Sunoo had already placed the oozing substance into their mouths. 

"This is lime sorbet.." 

"It's Ricky's Rickwracks." Confused, but curious, the other teens dipped their index finger into the mush and tasted it as well. 

"You're right...I think we just got our next clue." Sunghoon smirked at the rest of his friends and grabbed the keys from Heeseung's left pocket. 

------ 

[RICKY'S RICKWRACK] 

"Since Jake, Sunoo and Jungwon are the shortest, they get to shimmy through the air ducts and open the back door." 

"How come y/n isn't coming? We're the same height!" 

"Because I refused." You gave him a bright smile and helped the three unbolt the door. 

The trio crawled their way through the ducts and yelled loudly when they hit the ground after their sudden fall. 

"We didn't mean to crush your body on the first day Jake." 

They opened the door and let the three bodies waiting outside came in. The restaurant was dark, slightly humid, and oddly quiet. 

"Scream if you see anything." Sunghoon and Jake led you through the left corridor and the others headed right. 

There wasn't much to see, but when you had turned your back to face the door, it closed shut. Your six fists banged on the door continuously, but you figured it was useless. 

"Y/n! Sunghoon! Jake!" Heeseung's voice echoed behind the door, and he managed to pry it open. 

"My hero!" You happily hugged him and it didn't surprise him; apart from your hard exterior, you often liked skinship with others. 

"SUNGHOON HYUNG!" the four of you ran back to see Jungwon pointing at a figure, and behold, it was the monster from below. 

His bright green and sticky appearance startled you, but his roar bounced louder causing your feet to quickly flee. 

Jake had become frozen; it was his first encounter of course. You took hold of his hand and ran off with him. 

Constant twists and turns led you through one hall and the next. The six of you managed to head back to the closet that once trapped you. 

"I-i think it's g--ahh!" You fell backwards and pushed a box aside by mistake. It was no mistake however. 

It was a hole and hidden for a good reason. You jumped first and met eyes with a familiar cave. 

The carts and marked arrows in the ground were a good reminder that it was no mistake. 

"Follow the arrows." 

Sunghoon led the way and you found containers of the same green substance from the monster. It startled you at first, but why had there been this in the first place ? 

"Wouldn't this path lead to the bank?" 

"By why would he need a path?" 

"I'm assuming there's another type of dessert old Ricky likes to indulge in." 

"Take those items, let's build ourselves a trap.." 

----- 

They handled the ropes and buckets in every step. 

Sunoo and Jungwon handled leading the creature into the cave,  running in terror like always; they were the bait. 

"Now!" The trap was set off,  a toss here, a toss there, and the cage landed everywhere but on top of the monster. 

It continued to chase them, and they soon found themselves trapped inside the cage. Well, everyone but you and Jake. 

The two of you continued to run and eventually your two pairs of feet met a dead end. 

"I'll help you up." 

Jake mounted you on his back and hoisted you enough to get a hold of the floor from Ricky's Rickwracks. With enough strength, you pulled yourself up and stretched your hand towards Jake to pull him up. The two of you continued to play a game with the monster on your trail.

In the meantime, the four boys played with the bolts of the cage until it managed to come loose. They went back to you and Jake and grabbed the hose of the lime sherbet. 

At the right time, the creature was pushed towards the wall by the force of the blasting sherbet. His body was now too cocooned like his previous victims. 

"What do you think you're doing!?" Chief Kim walked into the store through the front door alongside Heeseung's father, Mayor Lee. 

"Well we caught the monster from below of course! Ricky couldn't fool me." But unknowingly, Ricky walked through the door. 

"I called the police when my alarm went off." 

"Then who?" Jungwon did the honors of pulling off the mask revealing the human within. 

"Professor Kang!" 

"That's right. When I discovered the cave while looking for samples for science class, I knew I had found my ticket out of this place! I used Ricky's sorbet to cocoon people who came too close and used the costume to scare people off. I even did it to myself to throw you people off. I would've gotten away with it too, if it wasn't for you meddling kids!" 

"But Mr.Kang, what about this locket?" You held the pendant to an eyes view but his answer let you know it didn't belong to him. 

"I say we celebrate at RM's Studio !" 

------ 

The soft music let you guys know of another job well done. A loud ring broke through the silence and Sunoo went ahead to answer it. 

"Welcome to RM's studio mix, what can we do for you?" 

"You're all doomed!" The seven of you, including RM, closed around the recorder. 

"You should've never taken the locket out of the cave, but now you've done it. You've found a truth that has been hidden...a true mystery behind Seoul City has begun." 

And just like that, the room went silent. 

[its-toasted]

I listen to country radio when I drive. Have done this mostly since my first car.

It's an interesting place. Well I guess not really. It feels like everyone who dislikes it really dislikes it. And there's a lot of people in that category. It's hella romantic in its lyricism and imagery, and it's a super whitewashed corner of the world which usually blows, but I'm from the part of MD that feels more north than south and this one's aight. It's warm over there.

At some point country replaced gospel music. When I got my first car and had all that freedom afresh, there was that shift for me. And once you get a taste of that you feel like your overprotective parents have been betraying you. Even though it's all love and you get that. But that's why it tastes how it tastes for me. I've spent a lot of time in the whip.

I've always been a sucker for a good ballad. And harmonizing to a slow melody. There's a lot of comfort in that, it's really good for my anxiety. I mostly listened to pop-punk when I started driving, think the maine, mayday parade, fall out boy, panic at the disco, etc. And now it's mostly hip-hop/r&b, like smoove jams. And country radio's always stuck around.

It helps that they're always replaying gems from 5+ years ago. I think it's about 50/50 that I want to sing along vs. switch the station, and the line between classic and corny to me is so fine, but I'll take that.

I remember a writing workshop talk and we discussed poems as time capsules. How they can pull you into a world of nostalgia or a place and time so deeply. And it feels good. Like wrap yourself up in it good. Country is that these days. Sometimes at a red light on a wide road with the window down and a jack half-sharpened I think like how could you not love country. Don't smoke cigs

In other news my apartment is ready to move in. Got the keys wednesday and have been moving things in every day. I have made several long-ass joyrides to get dope furniture, but it was so worth for the savings. This place gonna look right. I've been posted up in some hotel for two weeks, and I'm finally checking out for good. Happy sunday

[chispas-and-broken-bindings]

Hi! 7, 33 & 34 for the obscure asks🖤

Thanks @loulanorth . I sat on this forever because it was so hard to answer the first one.

7. what song is your aesthetic?

This was shockingly hard, and I spent way too much time thinking about this. I love music and I have pretty broad, eclectic taste but eventually I landed on "Goin’ To The Party" by Alabama Shakes.

It’s a short, simple song, but I love the vibe from the very first line and it feels fitting to my aesthetic. All I've ever been looking for is someone to go to parties with me, good music to dance to, a little bit of drama, and someone to bring me home when the night is done.

As a thematic bonus, I’d add Brittany Howard’s song “Stay High”. Same singer, similar vibe. I guess you could say I'm a pretty simple woman with pretty simple ambitions. I just want to feel good and be mildly entertained with people I love.

33. do you have any strange fears?

I answered this in another ask. Not really. If you asked some of my friends they would probably say I could stand to have a few more fears. My attitude about most things is "what's the worst that could happen?" (And you know, there are plenty of instances, where the answer is "very bad things" and I'll just shrug). Good thing, I'm pretty lazy, so I don't find myself in dangerous situations too often. I don't even drive that often anymore and that's probably the thing I should be most scared of, considering I've been in many car accidents and even totaled several cars.

34. what food do you binge on when you’re lazy?

I'm not huge into snacking (I like three square meals a day, and at that time I have a hearty appetite), unless I'm watching a movie, and then I like white cheddar popcorn.