#oh it was a mess. and it was like 50 degrees out and cold and rainy the entire time

[cidnangarlond]

the AC in my house has not been working the inside temp kept fluctuating between 73-75 but how it's 78 inside and it's 76 outside w a nice breeze and no humidity how about I die actually

[captainlondonman]

HI VIS

FIRST CLASS BIN MAN

‘Oh Christ, where am I? What time is it? Oh fuck I’ve pissed in my pants, look at the bloody stain all the way down my trousers. And fuck I’ve been sick all down my front. God what a bloody headache.’

Thomas was sat on the dirty wet ground back against a brick wall, , sitting in amongst what seemed like giant wheelie bins.

“Shit what a fucking awful smell.”

His nostrils were full not just of his own sick but the retching smell of fish bones and meat.

Slowly the picture stated coming back to him. He had just gone to Uni to get his results and what a shock, he had just got First Class honours. He had expected Upper second but shit man, a First. Totally amazing. He was on top of the world, any job would now be possible. He remembered hugging all his mates and like a gang they all went out to get smashed and celebrate. Smashed it was for Thomas as he must have been so out of his mind that he ended up down some back alley throwing up and passing out. While he was out cold he had pissed himself. One side of his trousers were totally stained with piss and he could smell it. With all he had had to drink he must have filled his chinos, once beige and now dark brown and still wet. Suddenly he saw that his cock had reacted to the warm wet piss and was erect stretching down his leg, a good meaty piece.

‘This is the last thing I need and how the fuck am I going to get home looking like this.’

So much for celebrating his degree when he ended up like this

As he started to get himself off the ground he heard the noise of a thundering truck backing up the alley with lights flashing, getting closer and closer.

God I’d better hide between these bins and hopefully no one will notice me . He sat back tight against the wall but the vehicle stopped and he heard both doors open.

‘Christ I’m done for’ he thought

Thomas heard the voices

‘Thank God its dry mate today. Another day just the same but it does me, and soon back to the depot and we can get a ciggie and a beer.

Too right, Joe. Make sure we don’t overdo it. Fucking shame that young geezer took off as we need another bloke on this round. A young cocky apprentice to show the ropes and giv us some relief, know what I mean.’

‘Forget the round mate I need my cock serviced by a young guy’ The other bloke said

‘Me too. Shit just saying this is giving me a knob on.’

‘What’s that noise between the bins?’

The two guys moved one of the wheelies aside and there was Thomas slumped trying to hide between the bins.

‘So what have we here?’

Standing in front of Thomas were two hulking bin men in full Hi Viz gear. Certainly 6’ 2”. One was around 50 with a good pot belly, his thick belt holding up his Hi viz trousers and allowing his belly to sit out over. He was wearing thick rubber wellies, a tight tee shirt and hi viz yellow waistcoat. All down his right area were tattoos  He had a bull neck with double chin all unshaven, and hair erupting from the top of his T shirt. His head was totally shaved. The other guy was younger around 40 better build and had clearly done weights. His 6 pack showed through his T shirt but he wore a heavy Hiviz jacket on top, yellow Hi viz trousers and heavy worn rigger boots. Also a shaved head with a thick black beard and gold ring in his left ear. Not the guys to take any nonsense.

‘Er, I was out celebrating last night and have somehow ended up here, sorry’ said Thomas

‘Nae need to apologise but it must have been one fucking night judging by the sick down yer front and holy shit you have pissed herself as well. Some right ol mess mate

Right, lets help you up.’

The two bin men took Thomas by each arm and stood him up against the wall.

‘There you are. Christ you ain’t too bad, what’s that sticking out yer trousers. You’ve a bloody hard on mate and not a bad one at that.’

‘Er Sorry’ Thomas said trying to move his stiff cock so it was not so obvious.

‘Don’t mind us mate. Good viewing,’ the large one said giving himself a good rub between his groin.

‘You need to sort yerself out’

‘I’m not sure how I’m going to get home like this.’

‘Too right. Apart from the mess you stink mate’

The fatter guy gave his mate a side glance. ‘This could be what we are looking for’ his smile widening.

‘I reckon perfect.’

‘Sorry what are you saying?’

‘We are just finishing our round once we’ve loaded those wheelies and then back to the depot. Why don’t you get into the front between us and we’ll take you back with us to tidy up a bit and get you looking right.’

The two men had no difficulty is throwing the contents of the wheelie into the truck. The older guy got into the driver seat and the other said

‘Now young man get up and in between us.’

Thomas lifted himself into the long seat and the other guy pushed him along so his legs were touching the driver.

‘So what’s your name boy?’

‘Thomas.’

‘What a name, sounds fucking posh.’

The younger one said I’m Dave and the Big Un is Joe. Got that. You’ll know us well soon enough

‘So. What were you celebrating?’

‘I’d just got my Uni results’

‘Oh a clever boy then?’

‘Well yes, I got First Class honours so really pleased’

‘Christ knows what that is, Joe said, but suppose good enough to get you pissed’

‘Yes its great, makes it really easy to get a good job.’

‘Tell you what son you don’t have to look any further than us. You can join us, were looking for an apprentice kid to train on the bins, and keep Dave and I happy as well. You could be a first class binman.’ Joe said moving one of hands off the steering wheel and on to Thomas’s lap giving him a pat

‘I see myself in Finance actually.’

‘Oh do you actually? Tell you what Tam, you sound a right little stuck up shit telling me that. First class binman probably too good for you. I reckon a fucking ordinary binman more like.’

‘Sorry I don’t mean to be insulting but it is not what I have in mind.’

Thomas was sitting tightly between Dave and Joe each of his legs rubbing against theirs more with Joe very time he changed gear. He felt their shoulders up against him, felt their power, had the noise of the Hi Viz gear against his ears. He could smell their man smell and the stale smoke from their breathing. It was like nothing he had experienced before but he felt under their power and he liked it. Liked it so much that his cock started twitching again and lengthening down his trousers. The workies had seen his last stiff cock and he thought they seemed impressed, in fact the older one seemed to positively like and stare at.Thomas had seen him rubbing his own dick and a sly look had shown Thomas that his prick was in proportion to his size. Meaty and tenting in his HI Viz gear.

I daren’t let them see this, Thomas thought, and put his hands over his dick but he could not resist with the under hand gently stroking.

‘No way do I want to be a HI Viz working bin man’ thought Thomas but these men are really doing it for me even if Joe is overweight. They both seem thick but know what they want.

‘Ok Tam that’s us coming to the Depot’ Joe said

‘It’s Thomas really’ Thomas piped up

‘Too fucking posh for me that Tam. Tam it is and Tam it will stay’

‘I’m still a good walk away from home,’ Thomas said ‘and God knows what people will think of my clothes.’

‘You don’t need to worry about that Tam, come into the hut with us and we will sort you out. We have you looking decent in no time’

As he clambered down from the lorry he let is hands slip away and Dave got a good look at Thomas’s dick, not as hard still still poking out. Dave looked over at Joe with a wink

‘We’ve got a winner here Joe.’

Joe walked into the hut with Thomas behind and the first thing was the small of ciggies and general stench of body odour. He tried not to breathe but the more he resisted the more he wanted to smell  and have his lungs full of the stench.

‘A bit of a smell Tam but you get used to it and it looks already as if your taking it in to your lungs. Right lets sort you out’

Joe opened a locker and took out some clothes throwing them down on a seat.

‘These are yours Tam perfect size, perfect fit and will makes you feel like a different bloke. Much better than all those stained clothes your’e wearing. You’ll be much more comfortable in these, just like a second skin.’

Thomas lifted the various items to inspect.

A pair of really dirty stained Hi Viz trousers in yellow with the reflective stripes, a T shirt that once had been white but now grey, frayed at the neck and ripped under the arms, A grey hoodie with what looked like tea stains down the front, a Hi Viz waistcoat and a jacket all dirty and well used. For foot wear a pair of thick cheesy looking socks and Doc Marten boots with yellow laces

‘I can’t wear these to walk home’ Thomas said looking  in disgust at the Hi Viz gear. ‘They look worse than what Ive got on.’

‘Like Fuck’ Joe said ‘You think that piss stain all down your leg looks better. Trust me you’ll look a hell of a lot better is this stuff and feel better.

He picked up a bin bag and shouted ‘Now get out of these fucking clothes and get into the Hi Viz and just do as I say. Take all those bloody puked and piss stained clothes off including your boxers and get into this kit. And don’t worry bout us, we’ll go next door and make ourselves a brew while you change and I mean change   and then well come back in to see the new you and you’ll find out what’s happens then.’

Feeling very self conscious  and not understanding what the blokes meant Thomas stripped off and looked what to put on first. First try the socks. He looked at them and thought Christ these have been well used. He could not resist smelling them. God what cheesy feet the bloke must have had, it was as if they have never been washed but after his first reaction against them he found himself moving them up and down his nose breathing deeply , getting a kick. It gave him a headache and slightly blurry eyed as he slipped them on his feet. Next the Hi Viz trousers. As he looked inside them the guy had obviously always been. Commando and he could see some skid marks on the arse and piss stains at the front. The trousers were well used but still had a stiffness to them. They looked the right size as he pulled them up. His haziness was getting worse but he still knew what he was doing. Next the T shirt, Christ he could smell the BO. Thank God he could get home soon and get straight into the shower. As he pulled it over his head he felt his arms change. Suddenly they did not feel or even look as skinny as usual, there was good muscle which he had always wanted but through his hazy eyes his right arm started changing colour. There were tattoos in black red and blue. All the way down his arm totally covering all the way to his fingertips. He can’t be seeing right surely but as his mind became more boggled he thought yes my arm is covered in tattoos. Thomas slipped on the waistcoat and then the jacket. He was becoming more and more confused and was beginning to forget his name. What was it ?

Yeah Tam, I think . He went to put his hand up to his head to relieve the pain and saw that his hands were now grimy with dirty bitten nails, the fingers were yellow as if with nicotine. They were thick working hands. As he scratched his head where the hell had all his hair gone? He was bald totally shaven like a skinhead. He had strong wavy hair, so he vaguely. thought but he was scalped. As his hand moved around over his face he discovered he had rings in not just both ears but through his nose. How the hell had they got there. His head was throbbing and his confusion was even worse. A small part of him remembered him as the Uni graduate Thomas but more and more he was thinking of himself as Tam, beer and a night out with his skinhead friends getting into a brawl. He stepped into his 19 hole Doc. Martens, thick soles that had clearly kicked blokes on the ground in ne of his angry moments. As he tied the last boot up his head exploded and he thought his eyes were going. to pop out. He stood up quickly and looked into the mirror next to the locker.

‘Fucking hell, fucking great man’ Tam stood there looking at a Hi Viz clothed skinhead with a scar across one cheek and a spider’s web  tattoo spreading up his neck. He looked bloody scary, takes no prisoners, rings in his ear and nose.

‘I’m a fucking skinhead working on the bins. Shit man who wants more? No need to fucking wok hard.  Stcik with thosue stinking bins and the lads here and the getting out and having a punch up after a gutful of beers. Fucking perfect’

Tam was so pleased with himself that his cock had gone rigid and that meaty cock of Thomas’ was even bigger and thicker now and stood sticking straight out in his HI viz gear. ‘Shit man I’m so fucking horny’ he said rubbing his crotch.

The door opened and Joe and Dave walked in.

‘Well, it looks as if our new apprentice is getting off on his new look. So Dave we have our first class young bin man, Joe said starting to rub his own dick.

Tam could not take his eyes off the mirror seeing his image, his prick getting harder and harder and his hand rubbing up and down faster and faster.

‘Tom, quit the wanking now there’ll be time for that soon enough.’

‘So Joe what do you think.’ Dave said

‘Fucking amazing, shit he’s made me feel fucking horny. No way are we going back on the road until he’s been through his initiation with us.

‘I’m ready, Dave,’  Joe said unzipping his hi viz and pulling out his massive thick dick. He spat a big gob onto his hand and spread it up and down his cock. ‘That’s it getting it greased for a big fuck.’

‘I always love looking at that cock of yours Joe’ Dave said rubbing his own crotch.

‘Jesus,’ Tam said eyeing Joe’s prick.  ‘That’s a fucking monster you have there. Are we all going to wank?’

‘No boy, this dick of mine is going up that arse of yours. All new boys get this and all of them want more after as you will.

‘So do as I say now and drop those hi viz  trousers. Lets me see that cock of yours and I know you want a good look yourself. I promise you it’s a thicker dick that’s you had.’

‘I’m not fucking getting my gear off’ Tom shouted

Joe grabbed hold of Toms jacket and pressed his face against his.

‘You’ll fucking do as I say or do want me to force them down around your fucking knees. If that’s what you want then ye’ll get no spit and trust me you really feel my cock being pushed hard up that crack of yours’

Tam lowered his trousers

‘Now look at that cock of yours mate.. Not a bad bit of equipment and nice and hard. Don’t worry you’ll soon get your chance for that wank’ Joe said grabbing Tam’s cock and give it a mighty squeeze, Tam groaning with real pleasure

‘Now bend over facing Dave, that’s it my boy’

Tom bent forward and Joe let another big gob of spit drop on to his cock.

‘Shit that feels good’ as he rubbed his hand up and down his shaft

He took hold of Toms arse and spread his cheeks, bending down to let his wet tongue in to his crack.

‘Christ that arse of yours is high but get’s me more horny and ready for that fuck.’ With one finger he started moving into Tom’s crack moving it around and taking his second finger pushed that in too

‘Shit man.’  Tom moaned.

‘Shut up its only 2 bloody fingers. Just wait.’

Joe stood up and still with his hands parting Tam’s cheeks moved his hardened cock to the hole. Dave standing watching was by now rubbing his crotch.

‘Once you get that cock up his arse Joe then he can start giving me blow job. I love spunking down a new boy’s throat’

‘Don’t worry Dave his throat is all yours. For now I just want his arse’

Ok Tam get ready, this is what you want. It may hurt at first but once up you you’ll be moving up and down my rod begging me to cum insider you.

With his big arms around Tam’s waist he inched the head of his cock into Tams arse

‘Relax mate. The more relaxed you are the easier it will be’

‘Shit that’s one hell of a dick’ Tam said squirming in both agony and enjoyment

‘This is just the beginning. That arse of yours is begging for my big prick, I can tell the way your bum is reacting’

With his arms he started pulling Tom back slowly towards him, his cock nicely greased by his spit forcing its way up.

‘You see what I told you, relax, feels good don’t it?’

‘Shit it’s big, man but I fucking love it.’ Tom replied letting his arse move further up into Joe’s cock. With one shove from Tam Joe’s cock was up to the hilt and he could feel Joe’s beer belly rubbing against his arse.

‘Shit Joe. Let me feel that flabby belly of yours get right into my arse. Push it big man

‘Dave its time that cock of your got a bit of the action. Let our new boy see that cock of yours.’ Joe grunted loving the feel of his dick in Tam’s arse

Dave was ready and almost panting to get his dick out from his flies.

He stood in front of Tam with a raging erection and pulled his foreskin back.

‘See this cock,  Tam, Dave said as he stood right in front of Tams face. You need to get this down that throat of yours. All part of your initiation.

‘Fuck that cock of yours Dave is rank. I can smell the piss’

‘Piss or no piss’ boy, its going down your throat’

Dave took hold of Tam’s head and inched his hard dick down the throat.

‘Stop fucking gagging boy and breathe it’ll be much easier. Let me see that spit of yours running down your face

Joe smirked. Now you’ve got both of us, me up that nice tight ares of yours and Dave’s cock down your throat.

Now Dave you know what you need to do next don’t you as you know I’m the boss

‘Sure boss, and with that Dave lent forward to took hold of Joe’s tits through his T shirt and started squeezing

‘Fuck that’s good Dave, you always know how to get me really worked up. Keep going and with my dick up Tams arse you can squeeze as much as you want.

‘Tam as for you, you can at last get your cock out and start wanking and all three of us are going to fucking erupt at the same time got it?’

Go on Dave move that cock of yours up and down in Tams throat’ Joe cried as he shoved his dick in and out of Ta’ms arse.

‘You love that boy don’t you?’ as he could hear Tam groaning, his hand down working his shaft

Joe said ‘You fucking loving that Joe I can see. Think this is our best apprentice yet. Go on let that belly of yours smack against his arse. I love seeing it’

‘Too bloody right.  Shit man I’m going to come any minute he said as he gripped Tam, around the waist.

Go on Tam suck my dick as if your life depended on it. That’s some fucking throat you have. ‘Christ Joe I am about to come as well. What bout you Tam.?

A loud grunt from Tom and the way his hand was over his shaft said the same.

‘I’m fucking ready. I’m about to empty a fucking great wad of cum up yer arse boy. That’s it Dave really squeeze my tits.

Shit its coming arghhh I shooting now., With. That joe threw his head back and erupted his sack off cum up Tam’s arse

Dave seeing his mate in orgasm shot his spunk down Tams throat, moaning Fucking hell. Shot after shot of cum was too much for Tam as it ran down his chin on to his HViz jacket.

Feeling all this cum spurting into him from both ends was too much for Tam. This is what he always wanted. Real strong men, arse and face fucking him. With one almighty jerk he released jet after jet of young hot spunk all over the floor

‘Fuuuckin hell Tam shouted. I’ve never had a fuck or wank like that. Fucking terrific.’

The three men stood up and flicked off the drops of cum from their dicks looking at one another doing the same and pushed he cocks back into the hi viz trousers so that some cum would stick to the inside.

‘Well Tam that was your initiation to be a bin man.’

‘Joe you said sumthin about First class. I’ve never been first class in anything always fuckin dumb. Dina want to be anything else. Give me ciggies and beer that’s enough for me.

‘I tell you what Tam,’ Dave said ‘yer a bloody good fuck and as far as I’m concerned a first class bin man. Don’t you agree Dave?’

‘The best yet. I knew it as soon as we picked you up. Well done Joe you chose a right one. This time Lets make sure we keep him.’

‘Tell you what Joe, I ain’t going anywhere if you both can fuck and let me blow job you like that. So what say we get back out on the road and get the afternoon bins picked up and make sure we get back here for another session. I still have plenty of cum to get rid off.’

‘Good boy Tam. Dave and I have plenty to give you. ‘

[h0mulily]

my relationship sucks lately,

I feel like roommates, we even sleep in separate bedrooms because my bfs snoring is out of control. I pay almost 70% of bills and rent and my bf complains about being a malewife because he does a lot more chores than me because one he has three days off a week, and.... I pay almost 70% of the bills and rent so I think it is fair. I could probably stand to pick up an extra chore or two and that's fine but I am not interested in splitting them 50/50 at all when I contribute much more financially (I also buy most of our groceries).

Recently he was gone for five days and when he came home he was like oh everything is so clean and the counters are clean, thanks for cleaning! But I didn't clean, I just don't make messes like he does. He leaves glasses everywhere and instead of putting things in the dishwasher he sets them on the counter or in the sink to fill with dirty water and sit all week. I don't want to clean up his messes so I don't and then he complains about cleaning the dishes. The house looks like a fucking disaster since he's returned and he's only been back a day and a half.

I feel like his mother telling him to put things in the dishwasher instead of the sink or on the counter, I pay for the fact that he likes the house at 73 degrees and I like it at 75 or 76 if I'm cold (I'm cold a lot recently), that he takes showers every day (I'm an every other day shower type of girlie), sometimes twice a day, and thinks we need to run the washing machine 2-3 times a week (I pay for the water and electric). I have to remind him to do things and it drives me up the wall.

He tries to engage in sex with me but I just am so uninterested. He just gropes my boobs and tells me I'm pretty and wants to stick it in right away and I'm just so uninterested I lay there doing nothing.

I don't think I'm really attracted to him anymore (was I ever?) And I've started being a lot more mean recently i think because I think I hate my life.

We never cuddle, he's never affectionate, we never even sit on the same couch. We go out to eat once a week but that's it. We saw a movie yesterday and held hands and that's the most affectionate he's been in idk how long.

I think I am resentful and it's making me angry. I moved over 600 mi away from everything I've ever known and loved for THIS??

I want my bf to take better care of himself, I want him to lose weight and be affectionate and stop complaining about all the fucking chores when he's the one who makes most of the messes.

this post ended up being a lot longer than I intended oof

[risingsouls]

[Oh yeah. New chapter. I’ll try to condense this all down to one post and be concise over my usual multi-post mess, so all of my ramblings are under the cut.]

[Starting off with some fun humor:

Man, Krillin. Come on. These guys are just trying to live their lives as Frankenstein monster zompies. Leave em alone. I guess it really is ACAB out there...

All jokes aside, I would love Toyotaro’s/Toriyama’s humor more if it was down this route all the time. Miss me with all the sexist and fan service-y shit plz.

Wait. Krillin. You’re in West City. Your badge says SCPD which I imagine stands for SCPD. Aren’t you out of your jurisdiction? #defundthepolice yeesh.

HE PULLED HIS FUCKING GUN ON THEM. GOOD GRIEF KRILLIN FUCKING CHILL. Bad cop Krillin. I can’t believe this.

Gamer Goten still using Nimbus is so far the best thing about this chapter. :’3

The practically cousins bit is cute. But lmao does everyone just simp over Trunks? Trunks is the cool older kid, I guess. 🙄 Goten is right there, Fyler. He’s adorable and a sweetheart. I will say it seems that so far Goten is the focus but we’ll see if it stays that way.

Oh boy. I hate you already Beta 7.

Fyler is the new Videl? She may be a simp, but it look slike she at least has some brains. :’3

JK. Goten got his one quick fight with Beta 7 and we’re back on the Trumai bullshit 😒. Say you have a favorite of the two without saying you have a favorite, Toyotaro/Toriyama/whoever is writing this shit these days.

I have a love hate relationship with Mai being the brains of this whole operation. Love because we do stan smart ladies. Loathe because it feels like that’s really the only role they’ll seriously give women in this series outside of housewife. Kale and Caulifla and to a very small degree 18 sort of break that mold, but what are the odds we see the former two again? We will at least see 18 in action again when Cell Max shows up but it’s always a supporting role for her. I also still don’t forgive them for the damsel in distress shit they did with Mai last chapter, and I sense another scenario on the horizon.

Side note: I’m both laughing at Trunks and feel bad for him because he thinks Mai asked him to the dance because she likes him, but she actually just wants to activate her trap card. :’3 RIP kid.

AIGHT. I half rescind my last statement. Didn’t see this before posted. I hope she does get that squatty shit on her own lmao. I mean. I still have big X to doubt, but then again, it does seem like the writers take the month to gather intel about what their fans want, so maybe they’ll choose something worthwhile this time.

Damn. Stone Cold. I’m really surprised they didn’t have her get all gaga over Trunks now that she suddenly saw Future Trunks in him when he saved her. But. For the moment, them’s the ropes, Trunks :’3

Daw. Fylah ur rude. You should feel lucky being at the dance with this sweetpea. 

Also, what is her collar? What kind of 1950s ass dress is she wearing?

Or I guess American 50s was the choice of style, looking at least at the dresses and some hairstyles. Goten is still rocking his bowties :’3

Mai didn’t get the memo. She heard it was Warrior Princess themed. Trunks looks pretty spiffy tho can’t lie.

Look, I ain’t the biggest fan of Mai and really don’t see the need for bringing her and the Pilaf gang back at all but...she really did not come to play at this dance. xD

I take back my cool kid comment. Trunks is just a SIMP.

omfg. Is that the female android Hedo made to be his date to the dance. Fucking 🤣 I’m getting Rosie vibes from the Jetsons or some shit I CAN’T

Why is it only “Don’t tell your mother, GOTEN”? Like...I guess Bulma has more knowledge of the Red Ribbon Army but this just feels more like the dated old “Everyone’s scared of Chi Chi” bs. Though, they try to push the everyone’s afraid of Bulma, too, so why. Why is it always Chi Chi that gets treated like a monster and horrible person when, especially in Super, we actually get to WATCH Bulma be a terrible person? Ugh. 🙄

Dino droid. :’3 Bobo what did they do to you ;-;

Goten looks like Gohan in the Cell saga here. Idk if that callback was purposeful but. Here it is.

🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ I hate it. I take it back. I hate the humor. All of it.

Aw that’s cute tho. And mama isn’t scared of him that’s really sweet. The zombies were the best part of this arc. 10/10.

With all that said, that’s about the end. Hedo vows to get out of prison to make the ultimate android and I assume this will lead into the events of Super Hero. It’s hard to say if they’re going to have him break out like he did in the movie or just wait out his three month sentence (the reason I say this is because it seems strange to go into detailing him getting the reduced sentence if he’s just going to bust out before anyway). So, will we see a time skip and go into Super Hero, or will we get something else in between? I mean. Frieza’s still out there doing...whatever the fuck he’s up to. Broly is featured in the Super Hero movie, but we never got that movie adapted to the manga. I’m pretty sure the time has passed to do that since they gave Frieza a new form, but who knows. The writers aren’t exactly known for consistency. I’m leaning more on the time skip, but who knows. I would rather see what the hell they were going to do with Frieza and his bullshit (and have Vegeta finally get to kill his fucking ass but I know that won’t happen), but I’m guess we won’t get to until the next arc.

Overall, though, the mini arc was fine. As I’ve said, it was nice to see Trunks and Goten get to be normal teenagers and take the Saiyaman helm. It was nice to get more context to what happened with Hedo before Super Hero, I suppose. Goten got a little more time to shine in the last chapter, which is nice. Plenty of goofy moments and inconsistencies, but I’ve come to expect that at this point in trudging through this series. My biggest hope for the Super Hero arc, at least where Goten and Trunks are concerned, is that they don’t just end up treated as comedic relief with a failed fusion. I’m not holding my breath, but who knows. Maybe they’ll get a bigger role since they were involved in this whole sleuth story.]

[w-ht-w]

[5:55] Rorty: “I’ve never been very easy in my dealings with people ...”

[6:30] According to my parents I pretty much taught myself to read when I was four ... and spent most of the rest of my life reading books.  

Interviewer: the world in those books. Was it more important to you?

Rorty: Yeah, much more important.The world outside never quite lived up to the books - except for a few scenes in nature. You know, animals, birds, flowers.

Interviewer: What kind of world we're creating by reading books and combining them what kind of picture...?

Rorty: Oh, fantasies of power. Control. Omnipotence. Sort of usual childhood fantasies. Turning out to be the unacknowledged son of the king that kind of thing. 

Interviewer: Power through the control - the power you missed in the schoolyard. 

Rorty: Yeah. And I think basically I was looking for some way to get back at the schoolyard bullies by turning into some kind of intellectual and acquiring some kind of intellectual power though. I wasn't quite clear how this was going to work.

Interviewer: Did you manage to come back to them as the intellectual? 

Rorty: No, I just lost touch with them by living in a world of intellectuals. 

---

[8:50]

Interviewer: How’d you become a philosopher?

Rorty: I think philosophy was somewhat accidental, I think that I could equally could’ve become an intellectual historian or literary critic. But it just happened that the course that I was most intrigued by when I was 16 was a philosophy course. So I sort of kept taking more and more philosophy courses and signing up for more and more degrees.

Interviewer: Why were you intrigued? 

Rorty: I think because of the sense of mastery and control that you get out of philosophical ideas. You get the impression from reading philosophy that now you can place everything in an order or a neat arrangement. Or something like that. This gratifies one’s need for domination -

Interviewer: - and compensation of the shyness?

Rorty: Yeah.

Interviewer: I remember that there are many people participating in consolation. If I asked them, what is consolation ... they come up with the sense of order. The sense to have the whole chaotic world in your hand, to control it, to name it...

Rorty: I guess I don't associate that with beauty. I think of it as something much more like power ... I think of beauty as sensuous, and philosophical ideas in the usual cliched terms: cold, hard, abstract. 

---

[10:52]

Interviewer: What were you critically discovering the time you went into philosophy? Because you had the illusion of having power, 

Rorty: Well I was hoping to, anyway, by reading enough philosophy. When I was 16, I read through Plato thinking, you know, if I read everything in Plato, I would sort of get the, the essential Plato and be in command of this sprawling mess of dialogue. And of course, it didn't work out that way because Plato was too good an author to let himself be controlled, but it was a good try. 

And then I just kept on going, reading, reading philosophy books, until it was too late to do anything else. When I was 20, I had a master's in philosophy and couldn't think of anything to do except take it to Oxford. And then once I got a doctorate in philosophy, there wasn't much to do except teach philosophy.

Interviewer: But you wanted to be in control. You were the shy boy from school, still...

Rorty: Yes. 

---

[12:07] 

Interviewer: When did you realize you shouldn’t have...?

Rorty: Oh, sometime in my 20s when I began to think that philosophical ideas were, so to speak, ingenious artifacts rather than levers of power. 

Interviewer: Was this a dramatic moment because I can imagine if you have your illusions about philosophy as a kind of ‘ordering the world’ and to lead your own chaotic world, to have any on hand to discover that you're just playing with toys and not - 

Rorty: it's not exactly just - it wasn't the sense of just playing with toys. But having the feeling that philosophical systems were more like, writing sub systems was more like contributing to a literary genre than, like, assuming command of the universe. And no it wasn't anything very sudden. I mean, just somewhere between the age of 20 and the age of 35. I couldn't tell you where. 

Interviewer: And what happened once you realized it didn't say ‘I quit.’

Rorty: No. I mean, it was my bread and butter. 

Interviewer: But is it that simple?

Rorty: Sure, I mean. Teaching philosophy is a very agreeable occupation. You get a lot of spare time it pays well, you can do pretty much what you want, especially after you get tenure. It never occurred to me to totally change my life. But I began writing somewhat different kinds of stuff. And eventually it got more and more different as the years went by. I never found philosophy books consolatory - except in the sense of occasionally being overwhelmed by a surge of admiration for a particular philosophical work and thinking ‘what a what a brilliant imagine the creation. How nice to be in the same world where people can create something like this, and to be able to appreciate what they've done.’ 

Interviewer: But, this is not consolation ...?

Rorty: Yeah, it's not consolation for loss or despair or anything. It's just consolatory works tend to be poetic or fictional achievements more than philosophical works.

---

[21:09]

Idon't want to talk about the uncertainty inherent in the life of every human being I mean some human beings leadquite certain predictable lives you know people in traditional societies peoplein such miserable conditions that they have to work 14 hours a day and sleep the rest now there isn't muchuncertainty around and I think that uncertainty in the sense in whichphilosophers dramatize uncertainty is a luxury it's the kind of thing you candeliberately induce in yourself for the sheer thrill of it by reading lots ofdifferent books and being uncertain about which are them to believe 

---

[22:37] Greek (Platonic philosophy) vs pragmatic philosophy

The Greek idea is that at a certain point in the process of inquiry you come to rest because you've reached the goal. And the pragmatists are saying we haven’t the slightest idea what it would be like to reach the goal. The idea that the aim of inquiry is correspondence to reality, or seeing the face of God, or substituting facts for interpretations, is one that we just can't make any use of. All we really know about is how to exchange justifications of our beliefs and desires with other human beings, and as far as we can see that will be what human life will be like forever. So pragmatists regard the Platonist attempt to get away from time into eternity or get away from conversation into certainty as a product of an age of human history where life on earth was so desperate and it seems so unlikely that life could ever be better that people took refuge in another world. Pragmatism comes along with things like the French Revolution Industrial Technology - all the things that made the 19th century believe in progress. When you think that the aim of life is to make things better for our descendants rather than to reach outside of history and time, it alters your sense of what philosophy is good for. In the Platonist and theistic epoch, the point of philosophy was to get you out of this mess into a better place - God, the realm of Platonic ideas the kind of the contemplatively something like that and the reaction against this Greek-Christian pursuit of blessedness through union with a natural order is to say there isn't any natural order but there is the possibility of a better life for your great-great-great-grandchildren. And that's enough to give you all the meaning or inspiration you need.

---

[24:58]

Hans Bloomberg had a remark that impressed me enormously.  said at some point we stopped hoping for immortality and in place started hoping for our great-great-grandchildren. You know this was a sort of turn in the culture of the West, and you know, I really believe that. I think that it had to do with simple improvement of material conditions. When we got a comfortable bourgeois existence for large numbers of people the bourgeois was able to think not about escapefrom the world and pie-in-the-sky but about creating a future world for future mortals. That seems to me a great improvement.

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

Part 2 baby, I'll put these up on my ao3 soon as well so they're in one place together

-------

"Dad... you're dead."

Jack laughed. He probably shouldn't have, Danny seemed to be very genuine in his assessment, and Jack recognised that he should probably take this more seriously. But still, dead?? It was laughable.

"Come on Danny be serious." Danny's face remained stoic, "I'm not dead, I'm right here."

"You're a ghost, dad." Danny's lips were pressed tight, his entire body tense. "You died."

Jack was feeling a little ill at this point, was Danny okay? Was there a ghost messing with his head? He leaned toward Danny and grabbed his hand, it was cold, Danny's hands were always cold.

"Listen to me son, you're not talking sense, there's probably a ghost somewhere tha-"

Danny stood up fast, impossibly fast, his chair skidded behind him and toppled over.

"No! Dad can you just- how did you get to bed last night?" He asked.

Jack hadn't been expecting the question, he'd gone to bed... the usual way right? Like he always did, took a shower, brushed his teeth, got into his pyjamas, kissed his wife goodnight, although for some reason the details felt a little fuzzy.

But before he could answer Danny continued.

"When did we leave the party?"

Party? Jack's brow furrowed, oh the party! It was his 50th, how could he forget his own party, had he had that much to drink?

Oh, oh of course. He'd gotten drunk and done something stupid, said something upsetting. That's why everyone was mad at him, that's why last night was foggy.

Danny kept going, he sounded frustrated, angry, but his voice cracked a little. He was upset, oh boy Jack must have done something truly awful.

"What happened after the toast?"

The toast... He had just blown out the candles on the enormous cake Vlad had bought for him, ah that's right, Vlad had been there! He'd hired the venue, planned the whole party, it had been a surprise.

He had handed him a drink...

Danny asked another question, Jack knew it was the last, it felt heavy and final, it didn't even sound like a question.

"What's the date today."

Jack knew the date, of course he knew the date, it was the day after his birthday why wouldn't he know? He'd never been particularly good with dates but not even he could forget his own birthdate.

He glanced over to the calendar on the wall, just in case, he had a sneaking suspicion this was some kind of a trick question.

Jazz was the one to mark off the days, she used it to keep track of her assignments and her tutoring sessions. Each day would be marked with a tidy little line, not an X because they had 'a negative association with failure' or... something. He didn't really understand a lot of Jazz's ideas.

The days were marked off up to June the 18th... the 18th, it should have been the 10th. His birthday was yesterday, on the 9th, today should be the 10th.

How could he have missed a whole week? Maybe this was a joke, a way to get back at him for getting drunk and embarrassing everyone.

But this... didn't feel like a joke.

Maddie's sobs hadn't felt like a joke, Jazz's silence hadn't felt like a joke.

Danny's eyes gouged into him. Danny had always been an awkward kid, he took after Jack in that way, he was shy when he was young, always had difficulty maintaining eye contact. He had no such difficulty right now. They were so bright, had they always been so bright?

It was unsettling.

Why couldn't Jack remember what happened after the toast...

The drink had tasted strange, bitter. He never particularly liked champagne, he assumed that it was normal. Vlad had been smiling, his teeth were sharp... his eyes...

Danny's hands were clasped together tightly, his knuckles bumping against his lower lip as they shook. His gaze had shifted from Jack's face to the gravy-stained tablecloth.

"You're dead. I'm sorry, I know this is hard, I know you still feel like everything is the same but it isn't. You... you're a ghost, dad. Not the kind you're used to, you're just a haunting spirit right now, nobody can see you, nobody can hear you. You can't interact with anything, not yet."

Danny dropped his hands away from his face and looked at him sadly. Jack felt as though there was more to his expression, but he'd never been particularly good at reading people. Vlad had always been better at that sort of thing, it often felt like Vlad could speak a whole other language Jack simply couldn't understand.

Vlad... something was tickling the back of his mind but he couldn't quite grasp it, like a word on the tip of his tongue.

Vlad had given him a drink. Vlad had smiled. It looked like a real smile, but Jack felt like... there had been something more to it, Jack had never been good at reading people... Vlad had smiled, his teeth were sharp, his eyes... red, they were red.

The champagne was bitter. He could almost still taste it.

Jack jumped to his feet, startling Danny as he balled his hands into fists.

"Vlad." he growled, Danny breathed a sad sigh.

"Yeah, it was Vlad, he-"

"He was overshadowed by a ghost!" Jack roared, "It's still got him doesn't it? Mads is out there looking for-"

"No! Fuck, dad- SIT. DOWN."

Jack sat. Without thought or question. Danny's command was loud, not deafening but loud in a different way, like he'd heard it through not just his ears but his entire body. It reminded him a little of the concerts he and Maddie used to frequent back in their college days, where the music was so loud it vibrated through them, head to toe.

It took him a moment to realise he was shaking, Jack always considered himself fearless, and that was generally true, so true that he almost didn't recognise the feeling as it swept coldly over him.

Danny closed his eyes and rubbed at them in frustration, Jack was almost certain he caught a flash of vibrant green beneath his fingers.

"I'm sorry I... I didn't want to use that- I didn't mean," he sighed heavily. "You just never listen."

He was listening now, if not simply because he felt too shaken to do anything else. His thoughts rattled around trying to piece themselves together, something within him was screaming like he'd just touched a hot surface or a live wire. Danger danger danger danger.

"Vlad wasn't being overshadowed," said Danny, leaning against the kitchen bench, his body almost sagging with exhaustion. "It's... a lot more complicated than that."

"I can't be a ghost." Jack muttered, indignant, "They're monsters, they don't even look human. They don't wake up and hug their wives, they don't want to sit down and eat breakfast with their daughters."

"Not all ghosts are the same." Danny's voice was quiet, it had none of that fierce intensity like before. What was that? It wasn't normal, it definitely wasn't human. Jack glared up at him as a hot flush of rage washed over him.

"How do I know you aren't the ghost. That you haven't done... something to my family, to make them think I'm dead!" Jack growled.

He wanted to stand up, but under Danny's icy stare he felt locked into his seat. His expression was mostly blank, but Jack could see a twitch in his brow and tilt to his lips. He could see it, but he couldn't read it. Ghosts were easier to read than this, ghosts weren't usually very subtle.

"Not all ghosts are the same." Danny repeated, his voice was so quiet now, tentative and fragile.

He walked over to the sink, Jack wanted to get up, wanted to keep his eyes on Danny and the ghost that might be controlling him, but he couldn't seem to make his legs work. The command still rang in his ears. Sit. Down.

"We aren't going to get anywhere like this." Danny filled up a glass of water and placed it in front of Jack. "Pick it up."

It wasn't a command, Danny's expression had softened once more.

"Please."

Jack narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but he did as requested. He could feel the cold glass in his hand, the condensation on his fingers, but as he tried to lift it... the glass remained as it was. His hands simply slipping over it.

He tried again, and again, it wasn't as though it was slippery, or heavy, or even that he couldn't grip it. The glass felt normal, his hands felt normal, the glass just wouldn't... move.

Gritting his teeth in frustration he grabbed the glass and squeezed with all his strength, it didn't break. The water didn't even ripple.

"This is a trick..." said Jack. "It's just a trick..."

Red eyes and a bitter drink, people stood around him, faces blurred. He was falling, someone screamed.

Danny started rooting around in a nearby drawer, he pulled out a ragged newspaper cutout. The ink had run in some spots, he placed it down in front of Jack.

It was an obituary. It was his obituary. Tear stained and rough around the edges, torn from the rest of the paper instead of cut, he skimmed over it, almost unable to take it in.

Jack Jonathan Fenton... age 50... survived by his wife Maddie and two children Danny and Jazz...

There was a list of his degrees, complete and incomplete, engineering, physics, mathematics, it listed the names of his high school and university, his reputation as a local ghost hunter, a blurb about his dedication to his work and his love for his family. Jazz had written it, he could tell. She was so good with words.

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be, please." Danny's voice cracked, his eyes were bright with tears as he righted the knocked over chair and sat back down across from Jack, gripping his hand tightly.

Vlad leaning over him, Vlad gripping his hand, he was smiling, his teeth were sharp. Glass smashed, he'd dropped the drink. It was bitter.

He could almost still taste it.

"No..."

Maddie running past him in the lab, like he wasn't even there, crying. Jazz at the breakfast table, not seeing not hearing, eyes red and puffy. They hadn't looked at him, not once had they looked at him. They couldn't see him, they really couldn't see him.

But Danny could.

"If... I'm a ghost," the words tasted foul and heavy on his tongue, "and you aren't... why can you see me?"

Danny sighed, still holding tight to Jack's hand.

"It's complicated." he said, staring down at the table.

"Vlad, he did this. I'm..." Jack whispered. "But his eyes were... he was overshadowed. It was a ghost that-."

"He wasn't overshadowed." Danny kept his gaze averted, his expression was hard and cold. "It was the accident with the proto-portal, it changed him. He-"

Danny choked up, tears were slipping from his eyes, he gasped a few unsteady breaths.

"He blamed you, he blamed you and wanted to kill you, he's been trying since the attack at the reunion. I tried to protect you dad I tried I tried I'm sorry, I didn't know about the poison until it was too late I'm sorry, I couldn't get there in time I couldn't-"

Danny's sobs shook his whole body, he buried his head in his arms, shaking hands still clasped around Jack's.

Red eyes, sharp teeth, the reunion...

"The Wisconsin Ghost," how had he not seen it? "He's the Wisconsin Ghost."

Then another thought struck him. He looked at his son like he'd never seen him before, sobbing loudly, painfully, his body wracked with spasms as he choked on every breath. He had been trying to protect him, all this time he had known and was protecting him, alone.

When Jack had been told to sit, compelled to sit, unable to move and paralysed with terror, had he imagined the glint of green in his son's eyes? He knew a ghost with green eyes, who could incapacitate someone with a single terrifying scream, who was mortal enemies with the Wisconsin Ghost, who claimed to be a protector, who looked just like a kid.

Danny had been in the lab that day, when the portal turned itself on.

Had the portal turned itself on?

Jack stood, his legs finally acting of his own accord once more, and he rounded the table to pull his son into a tight hug.

"Oh Danny, it was you, the ghost boy, it was you."

"I'm sorry dad, I'm so sorry." The words wouldn't stop pouring from his lips, tumbling over and over. Jack's chest grew tight from the pain in his voice.

He ran a hand over his son's hair and shushed him gently.

"It's okay Danny-boy, it's not your fault, you did your best. I'm so proud of you son, we should have realised, you did so much all on your own, I'm so proud of you." It was Jack's turn to start blubbering.

"I should have told you." said Danny, voice muffled against Jack's chest.

He and Maddie always talked about all of the things that they would do to Phantom if they had ever caught him, they'd talked about it during family dinners. Danny had sat there listening, the whole time he had been right there listening.

"I... understand why you didn't." said Jack.

Danny had stopped shaking, he pulled away from Jack and wiped his eyes.

"Vlad told mom that he'd been overshadowed, she's been out hunting for the Wisconsin Ghost all week." Danny sniffed, "I wanted to tell her the truth, I wanted to so badly but Vlad he... he said he'd go for Jazz next. Said if he got past me once he could do it again. I couldn't risk it."

Jack had never understood why a ghost would choose to remain tethered, why they couldn't just move on and leave the living to go about their business in peace. He always told himself that when he died he would never return, he would take what was to come with open arms.

But that wasn't what happened. He'd gotten up to start his day as usual, but he was already dead. There had been no choice, and were he given one now, he didn't think he could bring himself to take it.

His family still needed him, how could he leave them behind? It wasn't wrong if he stayed to protect his family, right?

Jack placed a heavy hand on Danny's shoulder, and gently knocked his chin with a large fist.

"Buck up kiddo, I might need to get a handle on this whole bein' a ghost thing but when I do," Jack's voice dropped into a low, dangerous growl and, for just a brief moment, his eyes flashed a vibrant green, "I'm not gonna let him hurt anyone else."

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

49%

Title: 49% 

Summary: If there’s one thing that Spencer hates more than rejection, it’s spontaneity. But sometimes the things (and people) we love outweigh the things that we hate.  AKA a series of events leading up to a weekend wedding between the BAU’s finest Dr. Spencer Reid and his partner in crime, Y/N. 

Word Count: 1365 

Warnings: none 

Author’s Note: I hope that you enjoy reading this! I really appreciate all of the support and kind words :) 

49%

Spencer Reid is terrified. Nothing could compare for the pure fear that courses through his veins in this moment. Not even the times he’d run into hostage situations without wearing a Kevlar vest or even in the most lonely parts of his life. He figures that he’s terrified because he has so much to lose. Never in his life did he have someone that loves him as much as Y/N does. And that terrifies him. Somehow, when Spencer is with Y/N he’s simultaneously a man numb with love and a little boy shaking with fear. He knows that he should have gotten over this fear of rejection years ago. He knows that Y/N would never intentionally hurt him. He knows that she loves him more than anything. 

So why? Why is he so terrified to ask her to marry him? Logically, there’s no reason for her to say no. They’ve been together for 3 years, which is long enough at their age to enter into an engagement. It’s not like she doesn’t want to get married; he’s seen her Pinterest wedding moodboard. She talks about their children, almost like they're already here. She wants to get married and she wants to have kids, but the question that bounces around in Spencer’s mind is does she want that with him? 

“Next!” the barista calls Spencer forward to the counter to order. 

“Hi, I’ll have an extra large black coffee with 6 Splendas, and uh, a large iced green tea with honey,” Spencer orders, pulling out his credit card to pay for the drinks. Coffee is probably not the wisest choice, but what can Spencer say the heart wants what the heart wants. 

Spencer awkwardly waits for his drinks, trying to ignore the small box that burns a whole in his pocket. He’d bought the ring a couple of months ago, right after a case that both of them almost didn’t come home, or worse almost came home in a casket. 

“Two drinks for Spencer!” a barista from behind the counter calls, telling him that his drinks are ready. Spencer takes a sip of his coffee, the sweet liquid burning his tongue. Taking a look at the time on his watch, Spencer decides that it’s time to head to the park. 

It’s a short walk to the park, but it seems like it’s the longest walk of his life. Maybe if he wasn’t so nervous or terrified, he'd be able to enjoy how beautiful was. Spencer might be a complete ball of nerves, but he’s a romantic at heart. He wants this to be a perfect start to their perfect life. He finds the park bench that he told Y/N to meet him at. He sits there, waiting for her to show up and waiting for their life to start. 

Spencer’s leg bounces up and down. He should have worn a different pair of shoes. These Converse are so old and ratty, he thinks. He thinks he looks ridiculous in his cardigan and corduroy pants, what was he thinking? He can’t actually expect that she’s going to yes to him. 

While his thoughts are occupied by the constant inner commentary of rejection and ridicule, he fails to her the leaves crunch behind him. His vision goes black when his eyes are covered by a pair of familiar feeling hands. Y/N’s laugh gives it away instantly, but Spencer’s constant vigilance does cause him to yelp in a high pitched squeal. 

“Spencer! It’s me honey,” Y/N says, wrapping her arms around his neck and peppering his cheek with quick kisses. It’s the kind of kisses that say “I’m happy to see you” and “You’re the only one I want to see”. It’s at times like these that he doubts his doubts; maybe he can have faith and hope and lean into the romantic side of himself. The side of himself that sees them walking in the park with a baby stroller, playing on the playset with their children, teaching their kids how to drive in the parking lot and sitting on this bench when their backs hurt all the time and their faces have a few more wrinkles.

“I’d know that laugh anywhere, Y/N” Spencer says, watching her move to sit next to him on the bench. 

“Ohh, thanks for the iced tea!” She says, taking a sip of the cold drink. Even though it’s barely winter, Spencer still can’t believe that she can drink iced beverages in any kind of weather below 50 degrees. He nods and kisses her on her cheek, which causes a small giggle to emerge. Spencer is still kind of surprised that his affections can elicit such happy responses from her. 

“So,” Y/N starts. “Why did you leave our house at 7:00 AM and text me to meet you here?” 

“Umm,” Spencer says, the nerves bubbling to the surface. You can do this, Spencer, he thinks. You can do this, she’s not going to say no. She can’t say no. At this moment, Spencer is really wishing he had his passport with him and a getaway car to jump in, just in case Y/N says no.

“Did you know that only 3% of weddings happen in a courthouse?” Y/N asks at a completely stunned Spencer. 

“Yeah,” Spencer says timidly, not entirely sure where this is panning out, but grateful to listen to his girlfriend. It beats the alternative, him saying something stupid and her laughing at him; him fleeing the state and ending up a magician in a Las Vegas casino. 

“Yes, courthouse weddings are a great alternative, they’re affordable and efficient for couples who just want to get married without all that fuss,” Y/N adds, looking at Spencer. 

She’s profiling you, Spencer thinks. Don’t make eye contact. He knows (and she knows) that the moment he looks into her eyes, he’s done for. Las Vegas here he comes….

“And 51% of marriages end in divorce,” Spencer tells her, before he can even think about what he’s saying. Great he thinks, the day that he’s supposed to propose to her, he’s talking about divorce statistics. 

“You know that I failed statistics in college, Spence?” Y/N asks him. 

“I think I remember you mentioning that,” Spencer says, now thoroughly confused as to where this is going. 

“I have an evil plan to seek revenge against statistics, so I think that it’s my life mission to prove them wrong,” Y/N finishes, pulling something out from her bag. 

Spencer can feel his heart beating in his chest. He’s even more terrified than he was before. Suddenly all those songs that Y/N made him dance to late in the middle of the night make complete sense. 

“But, I also think that it’s my life mission to spend the rest of my life with you, Spence. So, I know that it’s not alway the case for the girl to propose marriage, but I think that you deserve someone to propose to you,” Y/N says, very quickly. 

Spencer sits there on the bench with Y/N sitting right next to him, utterly speechless. Did she just….

“You want to marry me?” Spencer says, dumbly. 

“Of course I do, Spencer! Give me your hand, I got you an engagement ring and-”

Spencer, suddenly fearless, cups her face in his hands, effectively making her quiet. He works on the surge of confidence, leaning in and kisses Y/N on the lips. It’s like he’s kissing her for the first time in his life. It’s like his first kiss ever, but it’s the first kiss of all the kisses of the rest of their life. 

“So I’ll take that as a yes,” Y/N says, breaking apart from Spencer. 

Spencer lets out a laugh, completely forgetting why on Earth he was so scared to propose. 

“So you’re not the only one who had this idea, Y/N” Spencer tells her, reaching into his cardigan pocket. He hands her the velvet box and reveals the vintage ring that he picked out from the second hand jewelry store. 

“Spencer? Is this why you told me to come here? Oh God, I ruined your proposal!” Y/N says, embarrassed that she messed with Spencer’s plans, knowing how nervous he can get. 

“On the contrary Y/N, I’m sure that this is the best possible proposal,” Spencer tells her, as she lays her head against his shoulder. 

“Spencer,” Y/N says, suddenly serious. 

“Yes, fiance?” Spencer teases. 

“How would you like to be in the 3% of marriages? Like as soon as possible. Like tomorrow? I don’t think I can wait another second not being married to you,” she confesses. 

“As long as we’re in the 49%, I’ll do anything you want.” 

[absolutepokemontrash]

You don't need to write this if you dont want too because it's up to you but this is something wholsome

WHAT IF L!MC M!M & BBY A!MC BECOME BABIES AND THERE EVEONES HAS TO CARE FOR THEM,

I apologize for having such horrible writing and grammer. I never payed attention in school, nor could I afford to pay attention 👉😎👉

Bro I feel you on the not paying attention in school thing. Fear not, dearest asker, ask for demon babies, and since I am a merciful writer, you shall receive.

Oh Shit, Half-Demon Babies are Running Amok Send Diapers and Help-

Mini summary for the casual reader, L!MC is Lucifer’s half demon child who got summoned into the Devildom to be one of the human exchange students, M!MC is Mammon’s half demon kid, and A!MC is Asmo’s. Let’s get to the fic!

Ah, what a relaxing day... Lucifer was sitting back in his desk chair, enjoying a nice glass of Demonus and listening to one of his favourite cursed vinyls. He had done a damn good job on his work earlier and Diavolo had insisted there was no more work to be done and he could have the weekend all to himself.

Of course, his brothers were still a factor that could have ruined his me-time... on any other weekend! Satan had just gotten a new encyclopedia to read, so he wouldn’t be causing any trouble, Beel and Belphie were going to take that Devildom food tour, Mammon and M!MC were planning on spending the entire weekend shopping, Asmo and A!MC were going up to the human world on Saturday and staying until Sunday, and Levi... He got a sudden burst of inspiration for his Animal Crossing Island and most likely wouldn’t be leaving his room for the next month. Lastly, L!MC wouldn’t be causing any problems, his child would probably spend their time with him rambling about musicals or anime they had seen, and Lucifer found their intense interest very adorable.

Ah... peace and quiet...

...

...why did Lucifer hear crying?

There, standing in the entrance hall of the House of Lamentation, was Solomon, holding three screaming babies.

What, and I cannot stress this enough, THE HELL?!

“Ah, Lucifer,” Solomon attempted to wave hello, but needing to continue to bounce one of the babies on his hip kind of hindered the gesture, not that Lucifer wanted a wave at that moment. “I’m sure you have questions.”

After everyone had gathered into the living room, Solomon explained how a spell gone awry had hit L!MC, M!MC, and A!MC with the effect of turning the three into the screaming infants that stood (or... awkwardly sprawled out) in front of them.

On the bright side, the spell only had a timespan of roughly two days, so they wouldn’t be stuck like that forever.

Everyone sat in silence for a few minutes (save for the babies, who were still either crying or incoherently babbling) as they processed that information. Lucifer, ever the flawless older brother and leader, stood up and clapped his hands together once.

“Alright then, everyone cancel your weekend plans, we need to deal with this.”

Lucifer’s dearest little brothers all whined in protest, Satan in particular. “They’re not our kids, why do Belphie, Beel, Levi, and I need to cancel our plans?!”

“Satan,” Lucifer said sternly. “You don’t remember this, but it took six people to take care of one of you. The kids may only be half demons but there are three of them. We need all hands on deck. Besides, if you all want someone to blame, blame Solomon.”

Everyone turned and levelled their practically murderous glared at the sorcerer, who suddenly pulled baby A!MC into his lap and began to rock them back and forth.

“I have never felt more unsafe.” Solomon laughed nervously. “But you wouldn’t kill me while I’m holding my not-child would you?”

Asmo stomped over and snatched A!MC away from Solomon. “I can’t believe you- ACK! A!MC! Stop drooling!”

A!MC had a long trail of drool coming out of their mouth which caused Asmo to shriek and hold A!MC at arms length away. “Stop that! That’s gross, A!MC, you know better.”

The adorable baby continued to babble and drool.

Mammon picked up M!MC, who almost immediately stopped crying upon seeing Mammon’s watch, they began making grab hands at it. “Ah, ya want the watch?”

M!MC squealed in delight as Mammon dangled the watch above them, Mammon was delighted that his little brat still had their expensive taste, even as a baby. “Hey, look at me! I’m doin’ pretty good! Suck it, Asmo!”

As Asmo and Mammon bickered, Lucifer took the time to look at L!MC, they pulled at Lucifer’s tie and hummed to themselves. They were mind numbingly cute despite the screeching they were doing earlier. The sight tugged at the cold spot where Lucifer’s heart should have been, he had missed this part of his child’s life... maybe just that weekend he’d get a chance to-

“Solomon where do you think you’re going?” Lucifer was pulled from his thoughts when he noticed the shifty bastard trying to make his escape. “You’re staying to help manage this nonsense.”

—————

A!MC may have been an absolute ray of sunshine normally, but as a baby, they definitely lived up to the term demon-spawn.

A!MC would scream, cry and pitch a fit if they didn’t get what they wanted immediately, not that they had any way of articulating what they wanted because they were a god damn baby! Asmo and Solomon were at the point where they were just holding stuff out to A!MC to see if it would make them stop crying.

“Come on butterfly, don’t you like this... antique perfume bottle?” Asmo asked, A!MC took one look at it, then burst into flames and started wailing again. “For the love of my father WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!”

Now there were two sobbing messes in the room, and one was on fire. Solomon quickly magically took care of A!MC’s little fire problem (the baby was fiiiiiiine, demon babies light themselves on fire all the time!), picked A!MC up, sat down on Asmo’s bed, and snapped his fingers. Tiny balls of light gently floated into the air around the three, Asmo looked up from his pity party upon hearing A!MC stop their crying.

“See, you still like my magic, even as a baby, right A!MC?” Solomon asked, A!MC looked around in silent wonder, trying to reach up and touch the lights.

“Oh Solomon, this almost makes me forgive you for screwing up my weekend plans...” Asmo sighed in relief, he sat next to Solomon and pulled A!MC into his lap. “Not very colourful though, is it? Let me fix that.”

Asmo smiled as his own magic added streaks of colour, it was like their very own private showing of the northern lights. A!MC had on one of those goofy baby smiles that can make even the grumpiest person smile back.

Solomon and Asmo shaped some of the lights into shapes and animals, Asmo let a pink butterfly land on A!MC’s nose, much to their adorable delight.

“And that one’s a bird, and that one’s a giraffe,”

“That’s an alpaca.”

“Sorry, an alpaca with a weirdly long neck, oh! And a sheep!” Asmo looked down at his lap where A!MC sat and tickled their sides. “Everyone likes sheep!”

He then quickly shaped a ball of light into a scorpion and made it scuttle into A!MC’s lap. “But I have to say, scorpions are the best.”

The fifth born sighed in contentment as their sweet little hellspawn continued to watch the magic show. Never in his life did Asmodeus ever think he’d be this happy holding a baby, usually babies were things he thought should be handled with hazmat suits, but not at that moment. His little butterfly truly did have him wrapped around their finger.

“Asmo, hey, Asmo,” Asmo looked over at Solomon, who had a glowing triangle over one of his eyes. “Would you like to join my secret society?”

“Solomon, you are ruining the moment.”

——————

“C’mon kiddo! Eat your damn food!” Mammon once again tried to shove the spoon into his kid’s mouth with the same result as the 50 previous attempts.

“YUCKY!” M!MC shouted and slapped the spoon away.

“Here,” Beel took the spoon from Mammon. “Maybe it’s yucky like they said.”

Beel ate what was on the spoon, then smiled brightly. “You can really taste the mango!”

“See bud..? Beel likes it.” Mammon gestured at Beel, who was eating the entire jar of baby food as Belphie watched in amusement. He was such an asset to the team. “Beel! They need to eat!”

“Fine, let me try.” Belphie grabbed another spoon, and waved it in M!MC’s face. “Here comes the airplane... whoosh... whoosh...”

M!MC didn’t budge, Belphie knitted his eyebrows and rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine, be that way.”

Levi pushed open the door to the kitchen, and upon seeing the scene before him, immediately turned and tried to leave. “Nope! Food isn’t worth getting spit up all over me-”

Mammon lunged forward, grabbed the back of Levi’s jacket and practically yanked him into the kitchen, he slapped a spoon into his hand and smiled. “C’mon, do a favour for your super great big brother!”

The third born looked at M!MC, who defiantly stared back at him, the baby had the upper hand and the little brat knew it. Babies were so much cuter in anime...

Levi nervously stepped forward and held out the spoon like a weapon. “O-okay M-M-M!MC... you need to eat your food... pls... pls eat.”

M!MC said nothing, they only did what most babies did.

...

They spun their head 90 degrees until the back of their head was all Levi could see.

Everyone in the kitchen stood in complete silence, until Mammon jumped a foot in the air and started screaming bloody murder. “MY BABY!”

He dove forward and scooped M!MC up in his arms, the baby, obviously freaked out by the sudden loud noise, had begun to cry.

“It’s okay! It’s okay! Uh... uh...” Mammon looked around frantically. “Hush little baby don’t say a word... papas gonna buy you a mockingbird. And if that mockingbird don’t sing, papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring... and if that diamond ring is brass, butitwon’tbebecauseyouroldmanwouldn’tgetcheatedlikethat-”

M!MC spun their head back to its correct position, but their crying sounds were now several octaves lower... It sounded like if someone put a baby in the Darth Vader mask but without the weird breathing sounds...

Mammon looked to Belphie. “I’m blankin’ on nursery rhymes! Ya hafta know some kid songs!”

Belphie, after being put on the spot, suddenly forgot every single nursery rhyme and lullaby any of his brothers had ever sung to him. Oh! A song popped into his head! He could sing that!

“Lizzie Borden took an axe, gave her mother forty whacks, when she saw what she had done, she gave her father forty one-”

“Not that one!” Mammon squeaked, holding M!MC closer to him. M!MC’s voice had returned to normal, the next problem is that they were only speaking in infernal. “Somethin’ else!”

“There was an old lady who swallowed a fly,” Beel began to sing. “I don’t know why she swallowed that fly... I forgot the rest of the song...”

“Dammit... Leviiiiii!” Mammon wheezed, desperately trying to calm the angrily growling M!MC. “Sing! Sing anything!”

“A-anything?” Only one song came to mind. “Uh um... With the doors of heaven and Hell barred, there is no other but the guard, Master of the Hellish Yard...”

Mammon lit up and nodded like Levi had just offered him a million Grimm. “Aw hell yeah! This song!”

He handed M!MC to Beel and began to dance and sing next to Levi, who had really gotten into the song as well!

“With those sins that you've committed, If you pay you'll be acquitted, and your crimes all permitted,” the two paused for dramatic effect before both belting out the best line in the song.

“ONLY ONES WITH CASH DO WELL, WELL AT LEAST IN HELL!”

As Levi and Mammon continued to sing, M!MC became so entranced by the dance, that they stopped their demonic babbling and just watched the second and third born dance and sing the English cover of an old vocaloid song. Belphie and Beel made brief confused eye contact to make sure the other twin was seeing the same thing.

The duo finished the song and took a bow, Beel lightly tapped M!MC’s chubby baby hands together to make it look like they were clapping. It was enough for Mammon and Levi.

“Thank you, thank you,” Mammon said. “We’ll be here forever, next show ain’t free.”

“We should sing The Tailor on Enbizaka next!”

“Levi! No! That song is like... seven minutes long!”

“Hey, morons,” Belphie stuck his thumb at M!MC. “They still haven’t eaten.”

Mammon’s triumphant expression dropped right to the floor. “Ah fuck...”

——————

“Satan, where’s L!MC-” Lucifer looked up at the ceiling of Satan’s room and his jaw dropped. “WHAT ARE THEY DOING UP THERE?!”

“I can’t get them down!” Satan hissed back.

L!MC. L!MC the BABY. They were on the ceiling. They were sitting upside down on the ceiling like it was an average Friday. Lucifer was too old for this shit...

“L!MC.” Lucifer held out his arms, L!MC squinted at him, that’s when Lucifer remembered L!MC was practically blind without their glasses. “L!MC, it’s your father, come here.”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried calling them down like that?!” Satan spat as he quickly ran a hand through his hair.

Lucifer shot a glare at Satan, then Lucifer heard something that nearly made his (lack of) heart stop. Oh no- L!MC was yawning-

L!MC yawned and suddenly detached from the ceiling. Lucifer and Satan both dove forward to catch L!MC, which culminated in one of Satan’s piles of books falling down, but with L!MC safe and sound.

“Damn it.” Satan grumbled as Lucifer shifted to properly hold L!MC. “This is going to take forever to clean...”

“That was clean?” Lucifer raised an eyebrow as L!MC began to fuss slightly.

Satan growled and rolled his eyes. “Yes, it was clean thank you very much. I knew exactly where everything was.”

The cat that unofficially ruled the House of Lamentation pranced into Satan’s room like it didn’t have a care in the world, it began to bat at one of the loose papers that had been scattered around the floor. Detective Toe Beans, you’re an esteemed detective, and technically RAD’s mascot, stop that!

Satan scooped up the cat and began to put the books back in the pile, when Lucifer noticed a familiar, beat-up old book lying near the bottom of the pile.

“Ah, I remember this book,” Lucifer leaned down and picked it up, showing the cover to L!MC, who didn’t seem very interested and continued petting the fur part of Lucifer’s jacket. “It’s good for a bedtime story, right L!MC?”

Lucifer tucked the book under his arm and turned to leave when Satan practically shot upwards. “If you think you can just take that out of my room, you’re completely delusional.”

“Are you seriously going to whine about getting a bedtime story for L!MC?”

“CAT!” L!MC looked over Lucifer’s shoulder and reached for Detective Toe Beans. “CAT!”

“Yes L!MC, cat.” Lucifer whispered to them, then turned back to Satan. “And if I’m remembering correctly, I used to read this to you. Do you really want to deprive poor L!MC of bedtime stories from me?”

“Pff... deprive...” Satan rolled his eyes and huffed. “I’d be saving them. You were the only one who never did any voices for the characters, I was bored to sleep.”

Satan walked forward and swiped the book from Lucifer. “If anyone’s reading L!MC a bedtime story, it should be me. I’m twice the storyteller you’ll ever be.”

Lucifer scoffed. “Ridiculous. We’ll both read L!MC a story and they can tell us who did best when they get back to normal.”

“Fine by me.”

The three (four if you count Bean) were soon seated on the couch in Lucifer’s room. Lucifer took the first story.

Satan listened along and absentmindedly pet Bean, hearing a story he had heard over and over again had managed to bring back memories of a time where he had significantly less control over his wrath. Every night he’d demand a bedtime story or he’d throw a tantrum unlike anything the Devildom had ever seen.

The eldest was always there to swoop in and read Satan a story whenever the little ball of seething rage looked ready to kill the unfortunate brother who told him it was bedtime.

It had gotten to the point that Satan could recite most of the stories in the book completely by heart. He chuckled under his breath as he remembered the time he matter of factly told Lucifer that he’d be reading him the bedtime story that night and proceeded to pretend to read the story of The Hydra and the Pufferfish. He hadn’t actually learned to read, much to Lucifer’s dismay, Satan just memorized what to say and when to turn the pages.

Though, it was apparently impressive enough at the time to warrant a head pat from Lucifer.

The fourth born leaned closer to Lucifer to get a better look at the book’s illustrations. They were always slightly off and strange looking, much like the pictures in the Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark book that L!MC had given Satan for his birthday.

Lucifer abruptly stopped reading.

“Why’d you stop?” Satan looked up at Lucifer, then over at L!MC. Aw... Satan didn’t even get a chance to read...

“Our audience has fallen asleep.” Lucifer stifled a yawn and prepared to close the book, Satan quickly shoved his hand on the page to stop him.

“You started reading,” Satan looked away and grumbled. “So at least finish the story...”

Lucifer smirked and opened the book back up. “If you insist, Satan.”

————————

Yayyyyy! Babies! I’m sure the three get back to normal by Monday... hopefully...

Here’s a link to the song Levi and Mammon are singing!

I hope you all enjoyed! As of the time I’m posting this, the next set of Lessons 1-5 Headcanons will be out tomorrow at 8:30 pm EST.

[rvmmm21]

Would you comsider a steamy wenrene where irene is gentle with her wannie? you can make it yandere but please I just need to see irene be nice to wendy for a change 😢😢😢😢

considered. written. how does it feel to get a whole bunch of NOTHING. hahaha. i tried, but what am i if not a frustrating pit of maybes. have your 50%. 

tw: wendy’s LIES.

– – – – –

“Wan–ah, don’t be ridiculous.” Joohyun calls back as Seungwan’s hand reaches for the door, patting the mattress beside her in that totally–not–demanding–but–demanding voice of hers. “I know you’ve been having nightmares. Sleep with me tonight.”

Seungwan freezes, then dips her gaze. Damn, the duvet on Joohyun’s side suddenly looks ten times fluffier than hers. It… can’t hurt, right? Just one night. After a visible deliberation, Seungwan edges her way over and gingerly settles down, lifting the duvet and artlessly snuggling under it with a nervous chuckle. Gosh, it’s even warmer than she’d expected. Or… wait, is that just her own body heat from how fast her heart is going? She has no idea. And it’s not like she can think of much other than the whiffs of that crisp fabric conditioner Joohyun loves to use. 

“Night, Wannie. Sweet dreams. I hope you—”

“G’night unnie,” Seungwan accidentally interjects Joohyun while she’s bidding her goodnight. She half expects an eye-roll for that awkward timing but Joohyun simply huffs fondly and turns to face away from her.

Wow, good job. No, seriously. Way to go, Seungwan. Jesus.

The older is out like a light, leaving the other sweating in the dark with a racing heart and an embarrassingly explicit reel of thoughts.

It’s fine, it’s not like she’ll know, right? I’ll just stay up, Seungwan thinks, pulling the duvet up under her chin. For a good two minutes, all she can hear is the sound of the soft snoring next to her. She focuses on her own mechanical breathing, staring up into the darkness. 

The gentle draft from the ceiling fan is drying her eyes out. That’s fine, though. Because she has no intention of sleeping.

As much as Seungwan is determined, so is the fatigue. And it isn’t long before she’s drifting off into the first proper sleep she’s had in forever. Thank god they established the mandatory ten inches of space between them before Joohyun knocked out. There’s no way Seungwan’s crossing that boundary anytime soon; invisible as it may be, and as loudly as Joohyun may have laughed at her when she suggested it.

What was it Joohyun called her? A weirdo? Whatever, she isn’t about to take any chances. Especially not when she’s almost four hundred percent sure Joohyun doesn’t know about the… little crush she’s harbouring.

A little later on into the night Seungwan feels a distant tapping on her shoulder, and then she’s opening her eyes to a gentle smile nudging her awake. It’s only her side profile, but Joohyun’s beauty is dazzling, even through the filter of the night. Seungwan unconsciously licks her lips. 

“Wan–ah, it’s nice but—” the older woman pauses for a soft yawn, “bit looser please… hard to breathe.”

Once Seungwan shakes herself awake enough to make sense of what she’s hearing, she barely manages to keep from having a heart attack right there and then. She is— to her absolute horror— curled right into Joohyun’s back, practically nuzzling into the nape of her neck with her arms wrapped (breath–takingly snugly, apparently) around her waist, like a little puppy snuggled up to the warmth of its mother.

“Oh!” she yelps, reeling back in shock and doing her best to let Joohyun know she’s repulsed at herself, not her. 

I— I thought you were my bolster, unnie?! She wants to scream.

Too bad she’s so preoccupied in berating herself to notice the look on Joohyun’s face. The one that screams she anything but minded. Seungwan tries to detach herself from Joohyun’s back, but to her surprise, Joohyun stops her with a firm— “It’s okay. Stay.”— and an arm on top of hers, holding it there. 

Guess they’re spooning tonight.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

They’re kissing. Joohyun’s kissing her. Electrified dewdrops on grass blades catch between Seungwan’s prying fingertips, cool and wet. One by one, they’re absentmindedly plucked out of the soil when Joohyun connects their smiles in the humid summer air, murakami flowers embroidering their hearts together. 

The scent of vanilla–mint shampoo is cloying her nose. She’s tasting her, fingers are tangling in her hair, tilting her back slightly… 

“J–Joohyun unnie…” 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“W—Wannie?”

A perfect voice cuts through her dream, a hand on her shoulder already gingerly rousing her from her sleep.

Again.

“Wan—ah… you said my name.” And of course, Joohyun’s groggy voice sounds good enough to kiss, damn it. “Are you having a bad dream?”

“Mm… sorry unnie, sorry…” Seungwan mumbles softly, rolling onto her back with a huff and palming her eyes, trying to adjust to reality. 

Joohyun shimmies closer. Her vision is fuzzy, but she can still see Seungwan. Gosh, she thinks, giving her a once over, that dream must’ve been horrible. The poor thing is sweating. 

If only Joohyun knew the truth, the warmth in Seungwan’s cheeks might’ve been raised several degrees… alongside the warmth below her waistband. 

Suddenly the room is far, far too hot. Suddenly, Seungwan wishes she wasn’t trapped under Joohyun’s incredibly comfortable duvet with the most attractive woman on the planet. She tries to stretch her legs, tries to create a small air pocket to let some of that suffocating heat escape, but it does little to cool anything down. Ironically, it garners more of Joohyun’s attention, feeling the other girl shift so uncomfortably like that. After a couple of tense, silent moments, Seungwan’s tolerance snaps and she moves to get up. But Joohyun catches this instinctively and snakes an arm around her waist, tugging her down, stopping her from leaving again.

Seungwan seems adamant this time, though. “Unnie… I should go back to my room—”

Joohyun isn’t listening, choosing instead to press her with a question of her own. “Aren’t you going to tell me what you were dreaming about?” 

Whatever, Seungwan thinks, just give her the sparknotes version. There’s no need for her to know everything.

“We…” she admits slowly, “… we were in the grassy patch under the tree… you— you know, where we usually…?”

She pauses to make sure Joohyun is following. Sure enough, that patient nod gives her the answer she needs to nervously clear her throat.

“And it was raining but it stopped, and then… and then. Ahh, I don’t know. I think I need to cool off, unnie, I need to pee anyway,” Seungwan lies. She barely manages to pull the covers off her and push her hands into the mattress before Joohyun is gently holding her down to it, hovering over her in a way that has her airways clogged and her heartbeat an irregular mess.

“You’re sweating,” Joohyun points out the one thing Seungwan’s trying to hide. “You’re overheated. Are you feeling alright?”

Seungwan wants to say yes. So, so badly. But she shakes her head. It’s not a definitive shake, but it’s one vague enough that Joohyun remains inquisitive. Seungwan curses herself for being so honest. Why couldn’t she just push her out of the way? And did she have to agree to sleeping with her tonight? Why couldn’t she just have said it was a nightmare?

Why can she never lie to Joohyun? Even if it’s to preserve her own dignity?

“I’m going to the bathroom. I really have to pee.” Seungwan insists, and Joohyun is all but convinced. She looks down at the girl under her with such gentleness. And then she leans over, supporting herself on one elbow beside Seungwan’s head while she brings her other hand up to caress her cheek.

There’s a tiny gasp from the girl at the sudden (but not entirely unwelcome) closeness. “... unnie… you— you’re too close.”

Joohyun gracefully ignores her, moving her fingers from Seungwan’s face to trace the loose neckline of her t-shirt, showing her exactly what she means. “I think you want me closer, don’t you, Wannie?”

“You’re blushing all over. Look, here…” Joohyun starts with a cold finger on Seungwan’s lower abdomen, sending a heated chill up her spine. She sucks in a sharp breath when Joohyun folds the hem of her sleep shirt up, exposing the flushed skin on her stomach. “... and here, too…”

“U-Unnie… please…” 

But her unnie’s hand wanders wherever it pleases, ignorant to Seungwan’s helpless pleas. It strays further and further south and the younger girl isn’t even aware of what’s going on until there are fingers teasing at the waistband of her shorts. 

“Seungwan?” 

— who has been subconsciously licking her lips, stops as soon as she realises Joohyun’s eyes have been following the movements of her tongue the entire time. 

“Seungwan,” Joohyun repeats, resting a hand on her thigh, “what happened next, in your dream…”

Ah, what’s the worst that could happen? Seungwan tells Joohyun the truth and spontaneously combusts. That, or they never speak or look each other in the eyes ever again. Joohyun’s already gotten this far, Seungwan thinks she has nothing else to lose.

Her voice is hardly louder than a whisper. “We… kissed. You— you kissed me.”

She isn’t sure if the older woman is actually paying attention to the highlight of her dream anymore, because the feathery touch that had been resting on her hip bone is now skimming down, seeking the heat emanating from between her legs. She lets out an embarrassed squeak that dissolves into a strangled whimper when Joohyun strokes over her panties.

“And did you like it, Wannie? Was I good?” 

“Wha— huh? Unnie, what do you m—”

Joohyun doesn’t wait for a coherent answer. She leans down and shushes Seungwan’s stutter with a kiss, and a fierce new blush scribbles across the blonde’s cheeks as her eyes instinctively flutter closed.

Right now, Seungwan can’t deny it no matter how much she wants to.

“You’re amazing, unnie.”

Joohyun smiles. “Don’t worry Wannie, everything’s going to be alright. Let me take care of you now, okay?”

With bashful eyes, Seungwan nods. If Joohyun says it’ll be okay, she has no doubt that it will.

[fruitcoops]

50 and 61...

This is a pseudo-continuation of Sickbay, which was published a couple days ago. A lil bit of fluff and a whole lotta love. Enjoy! Credit for Coops goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for sickness, nothing graphic

Prompt 50: “Please, make it stop”

Prompt 61: “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this sick.”

Remus shifted under the covers and mumbled something unintelligible. Gently, Sirius reached down and brushed a few sweat-damp curls off his forehead, wincing at the heat that radiated off him. “Sweetheart, are you awake?”

“Yeah,” Remus said quietly without opening his eyes. “You’re cold.”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s good.” A hard shiver wracked Remus’ body and he grimaced. “I feel gross.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this sick,” Sirius agreed. He resumed smoothing his hair back and Remus hummed happily, wrapping two weak arms around his thigh, the closest body part in reach.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. Do you want to eat something?”

Remus’ nose scrunched up. “Not really.”

“Can you try some soup at least?” Sirius rubbed the shell of his ear between his fingers and he nuzzled closer. “For me?”

There was a moment of hesitation before Remus nodded. “I hate that I know so much medical stuff. It makes justifying not eating impossible.”

“You’re so smart,” Sirius said, leaning down to kiss his feverish forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

Twenty minutes later, he carefully balanced a bowl of chicken broth in one hand and a glass of water in the other. Hattie followed him up the stairs and into their bedroom, where Remus was curled up with the covers in a tangled mess all around him, as if he had tried and failed to get into a more comfortable position. Sirius set the soup and water on the nightstand and straightened the sheets, pulling the end down over Remus’ exposed feet and the top around his shoulders.

“Can you sit up?”

“Yeah.” Remus pushed himself up on his elbows and leaned against the headboard, wincing. “Can you turn the lights off?”

“The lights are off, sweetheart. It’s just the sun in here now.”

“Well, can you turn that down?” he grumbled. Sirius laughed and sat down on the edge of the bed, holding out the bowl of broth.

“Eat. You can take a nap afterwards and I’ll see what I can do about turning off the sun.”

Remus looked at him with huge, besotted eyes as he took the bowl. “You’re so good to me.”

“I try.”

“You succeed.” He took a slow sip of the broth and grimaced, then continued drinking. “Why do humans need to eat to feel better?”

“You’re the one with a medical degree here.” Sirius smiled fondly as he cupped shaky hands around the sides of the bowl and shivered. “Cold?”

“A little. I was so hot just a couple minutes ago, though.”

“You’re always hot.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Sap. I should have known you’d flirt with me even when I’m sticky and out of it.”

He finished the soup a few minutes later and drank his water like he was dying of dehydration before burrowing back under the covers and closing his eyes. Sirius slipped back into his side of the bed, grabbing his book of the bedside table. Remus slept for an hour or so, then stirred and turned to squint up at Sirius blearily.

“My head hurts.”

“You can take more DayQuil in—” Sirius checked the clock. “—two hours.”

“Please make it stop,” he murmured, fumbling to hold Sirius’ hand.

A lump lodged somewhere in Sirius’ ribs and he made a soft sound. “If I could, I would, mon coeur. Right now you just need to rest.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“What? You don’t like mon coeur?”

“I do like it, but you only say it during sexy times and I’m way too tired to do anything right now.”

Sirius couldn’t help it—he burst out laughing, hard enough that Remus smacked him on the leg and mumbled something about ‘shaking the bed’ and Hattie hopped up on the blankets with them to make sure he was okay. “Sorry, sorry. You’re so cute, oh my god. Hey, Hat Trick.”

She gave him a disapproving look and curled up with her head on Remus’ hip, perfectly in range to get ear scritchies. “Good girl,” Remus cooed as his eyes slipped shut. “Good girl.”

“Sleep, Re.” Sirius skimmed his hand over Remus’ hair and opened his book. “We’ll be here when you wake up.” 

[jimlingss]

Sugar and Coffee [5]

Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 5.5 OR Chapter 6

➜ Words: 4.2k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

Life won’t give you a break.   The moment midterms are complete, you have to begin preparing for finals. While the urge to bury yourself underneath your covers and pull the blanket over your head has lessened, you still don’t want to venture out into the world. But there’s no way to resist the inevitable. You can’t let your schooling go down the drain — it’s the only thing you’ve got going for yourself after all.   5:49 pm. Jungkook: where u at bitch?   5:50 pm. Y/N: im on the toilet asshole 5:50 pm. Y/N: call me a bitch again and ill kill you   5:50 pm. Jungkook: Gross tmi 5:52 pm. Jungkook: can i ask you for a favour tho pls   You wash your hands after wiping, flushing and pulling up your pants.    5:54pm. Jungkook: dont leave me on read   5:55 pm. Y/N: clingy much 5:55 pm. Y/N: the hell do you want from me   5:55 pm. Jungkook: lovely as usual 5:56 pm. Jungkook: I need the notes for comm 209   You scoff as you re-read the message. He has some audacity asking for your notes for a class he skipped on a Friday afternoon, probably to hang out with his friends instead. But before you tell him to gladly ‘fuck off’, you’re stopped by an idea. He needs something from you and there’s something you need from him.   Now’s the perfect opportunity.   “Tempering chocolate?”   “Yeah. You want to be a Master Chocolatier, right? This is a great opportunity to teach someone how to do it. They say you know your stuff when you can teach others.”   Jungkook rolls his eyes at your shamelessness and how you’re trying to milk him to your advantage. “Somehow I think this far outweighs the favour of me getting your notes.”   “Do you want to help me or not?”   “Do I want to?” He looks unsure but gives in to your will anyways, or at least he's curious enough to hear your troubles. “What’s your issue with tempering chocolate?”   “It just doesn’t temper right. There’s no snap or shine to it.”   “Do you measure the temperature with a kitchen thermometer?”   “Well obviously, Jeon. Noooo,” you pull out the syllable, voice dripping of sarcasm. “I dip my hand in to tell. Duh! Are you an idiot? What do you think?!”    At once, Jungkook’s expression washes over, becoming impassive. He spins around on his heel to walk out the door, but you grab onto his sleeve desperately.   “I’m kidding. It’s a joke. Sorry. Help me?”   He shifts around to look at you. You’re busy batting your lashes with those eyes of yours, trying to appeal to him — it disgusts Jungkook instead. It makes him feel sick to his stomach that you’re trying to act cute when you’re obviously a brat in disguise.    Yet somehow he finds himself in the kitchen on a late Tuesday night anyhow, despite having class early in the morning the next day.   “What method do you use?” Jungkook asks with crossed arms as you pull out the right materials, silver bowls, chocolate, thermometers, and a cooking pot.   “Which is easier?”   “They’re all the same,” he deadpans.   Jungkook’s arrogance irritates you but you’re not about to insult him and have him running out of the kitchen, so you restrain yourself and start with the seeding method. You chop the solid chocolate you have into smaller pieces while he watches you in boredom. After a minute, Jungkook pulls out his phone and scrolls through his social media so he can mentally stimulate himself and not have his brain cells dying on themselves.   “Only three quarters of it goes into the bowl to be melted,” he says without looking up. If he did, it would occur to him that you’ve already got it prepared and on top of the double boiler too.   “I know.”   “Do you want me to help or not?”   “When I ask for it.”   Jungkook’s eyes flicker up. “Well didn’t you ask for my help?”   “Not now, Jeon.” You sigh. It was quite profound how quickly the bastard could get under your skin for doing so little. “God, you can be so fucking—”   He suddenly puts his hand up to silence you and he sniffs with that big fucking nose of his. “Why do I smell burning?”   Jungkook looks over to your pot on the stove and notices it steaming oddly. You follow his line of sight and take your bowl off, hissing at how hot it is. “Careful,” he scolds and looks over. Jungkook nearly facepalms himself into a coma. “Oh my god, you forgot to add water into the double boiler?!”   “It’s because you were distracting me!” you shout at him and run over to the sink to add it in. The water begins burning as it hits the hot double boiler, sizzling and smoking even more. Jungkook groans. “You’re supposed to help me, not look at your phone! Maybe I would’ve realized if you actually paid any attention!”   “Fine, fine.”   You add an inch of water to the double boiler. It’s an improvement.   But then as it begins to steam properly with the candy thermometer in the chocolate as you agitate it with a spatula, you look down and your blood runs cold. “Oh shit.”   “What?” Jungkook sighs. Frankly, it’s impressive you’ve made it this far into the program. He didn’t know you were such an idiot in the kitchen — you might as well burn the whole place down and he wouldn’t be surprised. “How’d you manage that?”    You rush to grab a paper towel, trying to dab the water that got into the bowl. But Jungkook clicks his tongue. “Don’t bother. You have to start again. If you get water into the chocolate, it makes it seize and becomes unstable.”   “How do you know that?!”   “Do you even read your textbook?” He is appalled and you pull out the cutting board to chop chocolate all over again, starting from the beginning. Jungkook sighs, spinning around his stool as you repeat the steps and put the chocolate over the heat. “You know what the temperature needs to be, right?”   “A hundred fifteen. I’m not an idiot.”   “I don’t know about that,” he chimes. “You forgot to add water to a double boiler.”   Your arm drops to the side, putting the spatula down. “Okay, fuck you. I haven’t seen you actually give me good advice or anything. I asked for your help, not for you to berate me.”   “What advice do you need?” His brow cocks upwards. “It’s pretty self-explanatory. Just follow the procedure and you’ve got yourself tempered chocolate!”   “I can’t believe I thought you could ever teach me!” you hiss at him. “You’re a condescending asshole.”   “Excuse me? Guess who’s with you on a Tuesday night?! I’m an angel for helping you!”   “No one asked you to!” you scream back at the top of your lungs.   Jungkook scoffs. Any other time where he wasn’t being attacked, he’d recognize that you were returning to your former self, but he still doesn’t appreciate your brattiness. “Are you kidding m— God! What’s burning now?!” Him and that giant nose of his inhales and a delayed moment later, it hits you too. The both of you whirl around to where the chocolate is burning. “You forgot to stir!”   “It’s not like you reminded me to! You’re a distraction!”   It’s excruciating. Jungkook has a feeling he’s going to be here all night, so he helps you speed up the process. While you clean up the mess, he chops more chocolate. And this time, you both manage to get it in the bowl, stirring, without anything burning whatsoever.   The chocolate goes to a hundred fifteen degrees before you remove it from the heat and add the rest of the chocolate you reserved on the side. The temperature is brought down to eighty six degrees and then you put it back on the boiler to melt it all at ninety degrees.    A strip test is done, a streak of chocolate made on parchment. And for a whole two minutes, you wait for it to set. But it doesn’t.   “What the hell…?”   Jungkook is genuinely perplexed and finally, he gets what you’ve been talking about. “See? It just doesn’t work!”   He shakes his head, refusing to admit defeat. “It must’ve increased in heat before we added the other chocolate in. Let’s try again.”   The pair of you chop chocolate across from each other, silent in your determination. But when you glance up, you see Jungkook’s brows furrowed, thoughts probably lost. You don’t see him serious often — well you do, but you never paid much attention to him before. Not like now.   The process is repeated. The chocolate is melted to a hundred fifteen degrees and then decreased down to eighty six as you add in the loose chocolate, and then it’s brought back up again….    But then the temperature begins climbing — faster than you and Jungkook can react. “Fuck, fuck.”   The two of you help each other take the bowl off the pot in urgency and then press your burning fingers to your ears before running it under cold water. “It went to a hundred? Do you think it’ll be okay?”   “I don’t know. We have to test it.”   The strip test is done, but the chocolate never sets. It stays wet. Dull.    “Mother fuc—”   “We’ll try again,” Jungkook reassures you with a hand on your shoulder.   It’s painful having to re-doing everything and going way later into the night than you initially intended. You feel like you’re being driven crazy, but you’re glad Jungkook’s here with you — you know you’re not going insane alone.   You look back at your textbook and your notes, making sure you’re doing it right and you hope for the best in the next batch.   “It set….but it’s so streaky.” You look up at Jungkook who’s an inch away. He hums and leans down to get a closer look.   “It’s bloom. The lipids moved through the cracks of the chocolate.”   “You think it’s because the kitchen’s too hot?”   “Yeah, we should try to put it in the fridge to cool.”   One last attempt is made. It takes twenty more minutes and then it’s put in the fridge. But after the chocolate sets, there’s no shine or snap.   Jungkook finds slumped on the floor, spooning chocolate, one of the failed attempts, into your mouth. You’re hugging the silver bowl in your lap like it’s your anchor. “I give up.”    It feels like you’ve gone through a thousand batches. The kitchen is an absolute mess — spatulas and tasting spoons littered on the counter, double bowlers and bowls, wasted chocolate everywhere. There’s a sink-full to wash and that alone makes you want to cry.   You slurp up more chocolate in an attempt to feel better. “Fuck chocolate.” But why does it have to taste so delicious?   “I don’t understand why it’s so hard,” Jungkook admits with a frown. It just doesn’t seem to work with you. “It’s not rocket science. It was fine when I did it.”   “Fuck you. You’re not supposed to boast. You’re supposed to help me.”   “Was the last two and a half hours not helping you?” he questions. “You just have to watch your temperatures and keep practicing.”   “That’s helpful.”   “Hey, I’m trying.”   Jungkook pisses you off. Everything comes so easy for him. As chocolate destroys you, he’s out here wanting to be a chocolatier. But maybe it suits him — chocolate’s an asshole and so is he.   “I’d like to see you try to caramelize sugar as well as I can, or better yet, pipe flowers.”   The boy scoffs, looking down at you and your patheticness. You don’t even realize you have chocolate all over your mouth. “That’s easy.”   “I worked at a cupcake shop for three summers.” You stand up on your feet, facing him head on. “You think you can beat me in piping flowers?”   “I think I can do better than you can temper chocolate.” Jungkook smirks arrogantly, enough to push you off the edge.   “Let’s bet on it then!”   “Fine. How much?”   You have a better idea than money. “Loser has to cover for the winner during the internship in May. Whenever the winner goes on break or makes a mistake.”   He scoffs. It’s a big wager but it sounds delightful when he knows you’re going down. “Deal.”   //   It’s a busy Thursday, but that doesn’t stop any of you. Even after a long day of classes, sitting in lecture halls listening to theory to working in the kitchens, you find yourselves a spare kitchen space afterwards to finally put this all to rest.   You won’t tell Jungkook that you practiced all of yesterday by yourself and actually got it to work once — you nearly started to cry out of happiness when the chocolate tempered.   “You want me to make this?”   Jungkook looks at the picture on your phone. “Yep. I made it last summer using buttercream. They’re peonies. Why? Think it’s too hard?”   He scoffs. “As if. Watch, I’ll make it better than you did.”   “Uh-huh. Keep talking, Jeon.”   Jungkook eagerly takes on your challenge.    While you take up half the kitchen, he manages the other half, and the two of you share the center island together. You get your double boiler ready, chopping up chocolate to melt while Jungkook mixes butter, vanilla, confectioner's sugar, and milk together. The fucker doesn’t even use a hand mixer. He simply uses a spoon to make it, blatantly showing off as his veins in his forearm pop. He smirks when he notices you staring and you roll your eyes.   Jungkook makes a variety of colours, pastel pinks and baby blues, and puts them into the piping bag as you stir the chocolate over the heat.   You focus on the numbers on your thermometer, but out of the corner of your eye, you watch him.   He cuts squares of parchment, puts one on a flower stand, adds a small cone of thick buttercream to the paper, and then picks his tip. You muse that he must’ve been doing his studying when he chooses a one twenty seven tip. It’s a straight teardrop shape, and he squeezes while turning the nail wide ends towards the center, narrow end outwards.   But he sighs after a moment, hands halting.   It’s your turn to smirk.   “Not so easy, is it?”   His eyes flicker up to glare at you. “Keep a watch on that chocolate before you burn it again, brat.”   You scoff, continuing to stir. You keep your heat low so the temperature climbs slowly.   In the meanwhile, Jungkook switches his tip out for a one twenty and tries again. You take a glance, and it’s not too bad — still sloppier than yours and he knows it too.   After a moment of frustration, he switches to a one twenty two.   “You should check the consistency of that buttercream,” you sing-song. “Can’t be too stiff or soft.”   “I’m fully aware.”   “Are you?” You smile at him, mockingly so. “Just making sure.”   Jeon Jungkook doesn’t appreciate you provoking him, but realizes it’s similar to how he treated you. It’s not his fault his forte isn’t in teaching. And yours clearly isn’t either.   “A one twenty five?” You scoff. “Are you trying to make a rose or a peony?”   Jungkook’s smile is stiff. “What do you suggest I use then?”   “Go back to the one twenty seven tip or pick a curved teardrop shape. Also, you’re squeezing too hard too fast, muscle pig.”   “I know something else I squeeze too hard too fast,” he mutters as he follows your instructions.   “Go fuck yourself, Jeon.”   “Didn’t need to spell it out, sweetheart, but that’s exactly what I do every night.” He smirks and you roll your eyes again.   “God, you’re going to make me throw up all over my chocolate.” You take it off the heat once it reaches a hundred fifteen degrees, putting the rest of your chocolate in and mixing. You have a good feeling about this batch. Even if it’s your first try of the day too.   Usually you’d rush, get too impatient, but it’s entertaining to see Jungkook struggle. Time goes by faster.   You mix in your chocolate, bringing the temperature back up again, and you do a strip test when it’s all nicely melted, putting it in the fridge. All there’s left to do is wait a few minutes now.   You come back, dusting your hands off, feeling confident. Meanwhile, Jungkook is still piping flowers with his thick brows furrowed, the tip of his tongue peeking out as he concentrates.   “It’s taking you a while there, Jeon.”   “Whatever.” He sighs, resting his hands on the counter as he rolls his neck. “You had a full three hours practicing with me on Tuesday. This is the first time in a while that I’m piping, alright? Give me a break.”   “Uh-huh. All I hear are your excuses. Less talk, more work.”   You grab some parchment and an icing bag he’s left abandoned in a cup. With a flower needle, you begin piping yourself to pass the time. It’s actually one of your favourite things to do — it’s therapeutic. You can listen to the sound of your own breathing and the crinkling of the piping bag while you make literal flowers from your hands.    You break out of your focus to find Jungkook watching you intently. Your arm extends, showing off your flower with pride. “Pretty, right?”   The icing flower has perfect ruffles and petals. It looks real, and by the expression he has, he’s already aware.    Jungkook grumbles incoherently and returns back to work, making you giggle.   You take another piece of parchment, but this time you steal a spatula-full of his blue icing and put it in the pink bag to make two-tone flowers. And you pipe them on, spinning the flower nail, as it comes to you with ease.   You listen to the crinkling of the icing bag, your heartbeat in your own ears, the white noise of the quiet kitchen, and Jungkook’s breathing. You’re not sure what compels you, perhaps a sudden urge, but you quietly blurt— “I never stole your millie cake recipe.”   “What?” His eyes flicker up and Jungkook finds you concentrating on piping, not paying him any mind.   “The September incident,” you murmur out of the corner of your mouth. “I never stole your mirror glazed blueberry whatever millie cake recipe like you think I did.”   Maybe you’re telling him because things are different now.   You know he won’t jump down your throat and accuse you otherwise, for lying, or trying to cover yourself. Won’t denounce you. Bark out in laughter. Your relationship with Jungkook has become strange recently — you think it’s something other people would call a friendship. But you thought he should know. Just in case he still hates you for it.   You know you don’t hate him so much anymore.   “You threatened to go up to the Dean and expel me, remember?” Your pupils flicker up for a moment.   Jungkook recalls it clearly — the confrontation in the kitchen, the fight that broke out, how you slapped him, how he was planning to do everything possible to get you expelled. How you were ostracized over the rumours for weeks until people forgot and moved on as they naturally did.   But you and Jungkook never did. You always both remembered.   “I went to Mrs. Ahn before she left on maternity leave. I was stuck — didn’t know what to add to my portfolio, so I asked her. And she gave me your recipe as a reference. Told me to give it a try. Gain inspiration from it.”   You put your hands down, connecting your eyes with his.    Jungkook is rendered speechless. “And that was when I saw you…?”   “Yep. You busted into the kitchen without letting me explain and accused me of stealing your shit when I didn’t even know it belonged to you. I didn’t know you were the one who came up with it.”   “Why…” He shakes his head, frowning deep enough that it hurts. “Why didn’t you say anything?”   “You didn’t deserve it. The truth. I knew I was right and I was so….so mad that you could accuse me of stealing, that I could even be capable of such a thing. I wanted you to bring it up to the Dean. I wanted you to do it so you could be embarrassed when you realized what actually happened.”   It’s all in the past now. Your anger doesn’t surge as much anymore, but you can still recall a time when you felt utterly enraged he could think so lowly of you — a time when Jungkook didn’t deserve your explanation, so you slapped him. In hindsight, it was probably a bad decision on your part. You escalated the situation when it didn’t need to and it spiraled out of control.    You’re at fault for being rash and impulsive as much as he is.   “It wasn’t like I was going to use it anyway,” you mutter with a sigh and pick up a new square of parchment to continue piping. “For inspiration or whatnot, much less add to my own portfolio. I swapped the blueberries for blackberries, and it turned out to be disgusting. I messed up on the glaze part too.” You muse, “Chocolate’s never been nice to me.”   Jungkook absolutely baffled. Bewildered.    All of this hatred against each other was caused by a misunderstanding. All of it which could’ve been avoided.   “I—”   “Wow, are you kids practicing your techniques?” Miss. Kang is at the door, visibly impressed as she regards you both. “And here I was on my way home. You two are so diligent! And look at you both working together like this! I always knew you put your differences aside and be friends.”   “You have great timing, Miss. Kang.” You smile at her. “Jungkook and I were just having a friendly contest. Would you like to be our judge?”   “Sure. I think I can spare a moment or two.” She steps in, looking around. “What are we doing here? Looks like someone was tempering chocolate and you’re….piping! Goodness, me. Did you make those, Y/N? They’re very lovely.”   “Thank you.” You grin, beaming from the praise of your piping skills. “But the contest was me tempering chocolate against Jungkook piping.” You move over to the fridge, taking out the metal tray with your strip test. You hand it to her, and she hums.   “Very shiny, and it slides right off the parchment!” she exclaims. For the final examination, the young female teacher bends the chocolate and it audibly snaps. You could burst out into cries of happiness. “Looks tempered to me.”   You look over at Jungkook, head quirked to the side, wearing a big smile that’s infectious enough to make him grin too. “Here’s my piping.” He places the parchment on the counter and she leans over to study it, humming.   “Not too bad, Jungkook. A little messy around the edges, but I’d say a job well done. If this was an actual exam, I’d give you full marks.”   Jungkook cocks a brow towards you, sly smirk on his face. You step forward. “So which is better?”   “Well, it’s very difficult to judge on tempering chocolate and piping since they’re two completely different things. I’d say it was equal.”   “If you had to pick one?” you ask, desperate for a winner to be proclaimed.   Miss Kang hums a long note. You and Jungkook are put in suspense, anticipating her final decision. She taps her chin, deciding to chew on your chocolate as she studies the flower.   Finally, the teacher nods. “I can’t complain about the chocolate — it’s a hundred percent tempered. But I can say the piping needs a little more work, so…”   “I win!” You give Jungkook a cheeky grin causing him to scoff lightly.   “It was a stroke of luck.”   “Keep telling yourself that, Jeon.”   “It’s a tie,” he insists, “She said only if she had to pick.”   “That’s true.” Miss. Kang backs him up before you can retort.   But you still pout. “Sore loser. I win and you know it.”   “Hmmm.” Jungkook playfully shakes his head. “Don’t think so. Let’s just call it even, Y/N.”   “Nuh-uh. That’s not how it works!”   The pair of you argue back and forth — yet there’s no real malice. It’s simply banter and it causes Miss. Kang to laugh. She bids her farewell and quips that you both better get the kitchen clean. In the end, Jungkook compromises. He still insists it’s a tie but he does the hard work of cleaning the dishes and you give into his will.   As you prepare the mop water, he scrubs the bowls.   “I’m sorry,” Jungkook pipes up after a second of quiet contemplation. He turns his head to look at you. “For the misunderstanding.”   “You don’t have to be sorry.” You divert your vision elsewhere. “Not anymore. You’ve given me more reasons to be thankful. So we’ll call this even.”   Jeon Jungkook smiles softly. “Deal.”

[mourntheantagonist]

Steve and Billy going camping with Max n the Party and all Billy wants to do is get in a tent with Steve

Hey I’m here thirty years later!

I had a lot of fun with this one so I hope this is kind of in the realm of what you wanted!!!

read on ao3

How a gaggle of fourteen year olds managed to convince Steve to take them all on a weekend camping trip was beyond him. Okay maybe it wasn’t. All it took was El’s signature pout and Steve was as good as gone. The real shocker however, is how they managed to convince Billy Hargrove of all people to tag along as well.

He’d heard from Max that their relationship had been slowly improving ever since that night at the Byers, and he’d have to agree with Max that Billy had truly become less hostile as the months passed. But this was the first time he’s ever seen Billy acting so brotherly.

Steve had driven the male party members out into the woods, while Billy, Max, and El had driven separately. The three were late, of course. But Steve’s not quite sure he can exactly pin that on Billy. El is definitely poor when it comes to punctuality. 

They couldn’t actually set up shop until the others arrived, seeing as they were supposed to select the chosen spot together. But as he watched the seconds tick by on his watch he grew more and more impatient he was close to saying fuck it and making it a boys only trip. That was until, seemingly on cue, the familiar roar of the Camaro echoed through the trees.

Watching Billy step out from the driver's seat was the first reminder that he hadn’t actually seen Billy in a while. Because so much had changed. His hair was less disheveled and chaotic as he remembered. But way curlier. It was slightly lighter too. The arrival of summer brought out the natural highlights in his hair. But it wasn’t just his appearance that had changed. Instead of exiting the car with the slam of his foot, the flick of a cigarette, and a predatory look… he was laughing. Laughing along with El and Max about something entirely unknown, and when asked, wasn’t revealed.

If Steve hadn’t let himself grow increasingly annoyed over the past fifteen minutes he stood there waiting, he might’ve cared to know. But the sun was beating down, he’d had to listen to Mike and Dustin argue about some Star Trek nonsense for the duration of the drive along with the time spent waiting, and he was starving. 

“You’re late.” Steve said dryly.

“That’s my fault,” Billy replied with some residual laughter from whatever was so funny. “I forgot to counter in Hopper’s 20 minute ‘protect my kid’ speech when I went to pick up El.”

“Well I’m starving. So let’s find a spot, and let’s find it quickly.” Steve probably should’ve tried at least a little to tone down his irritation.

“Someone’s in a mood.” Max says under her breath, causing El to break out into another fit of giggles.

The gang decided not to test their luck against a hungry Steve Harrington. Especially not one wielding a baseball bat coated in rusty nails. So they piled all their camping supplies onto their backs and hauled ass through the woods.

After only ten minutes of searching, they stumbled across a nice clearing just 50 feet off the lake with a picnic table and fire pit already set up for them. Perfect.

The guys started by setting up their tents, while El and Max worked on gathering twigs for the fire. Dustin has meticulously established the sleeping arrangements. Five small tents. Eleven with Max, Dustin with Will, Lucas with Mike, and Billy and Steve alone in their own separate tents. It’s the perfect set up so long as Lucas doesn’t bring up any conversation regarding Empire Strikes Back being anything lower than number one out of the entire trilogy. Because then there would be chaos.

But when is Mike not the problem?

After getting set up, they finally got to break out some delicious ham and swiss sandwiches (courtesy of Claudia Henderson), and Steve was finally entering into a better mood.

He couldn’t entirely credit the sandwich however, because something about this new and improved Billy warmed something inside of him. He was less abrasive and more relaxed. He wasn’t trying to prove anything to anyone and instead was allowing himself to have a good time. Teasing his sister rather than tormenting her. Tossing knowing looks towards Lucas rather than threatening ones. Okay scratch that. They were definitely threatening. But more playful. The typical older brother spiel. The ‘you hurt her, I’ll rip your throat out through your ears’ kind of thing. And he was actually trying to make conversation with him. Only slightly poking fun at him every now and then. Not for the purposes of taunting, instead just his typical charm showing through.

“So what you been up to this summer? Haven’t seen you since graduation.”

“I’ve been working at Scoops Ahoy in the new mall. Not much else really.”

Billy took another bite of his sandwich and nodded. “I recently got hired on at the pool. Teaching lessons and life guarding. Saving up for when I go out to college in the fall.” He didn’t swallow the bite before speaking. New and improved Billy didn’t have table manners he guesses.

“Oh really? Where you headed to?”

“Full ride at USC.” Billy let out a hollow laugh. “Dad’s pissed I’m not enlisting.”

Steve picked up on the way Billy’s smile faltered at the mention of his Dad. He’d remembered Max mentioning once or twice about how her step-father was an asshole. For fucks sake Billy got a full ride to a prestigious university and his Dad is upset about that? He couldn’t even get into Tech. 

“I think it’s awesome.” Steve finally said. “I didn’t get accepted anywhere so I’m probably going to end up going to work for my Dad at his company.”

Apparently Steve let his disappointment show in the last statement. 

“Shit that sucks man. Dads are shit.”

Steve lets his mouth twitch upward into a smile. He looks back down at his almost finished sandwich and lets out a slight chuckle.

“Yeah. Dads are shit.”

- : -

After they all finished up their late lunches, the kids decided to move the party away from the table and into the lake. They walked along the lake shore for maybe a quarter of a mile before finding an abandoned rope swing attached to a tree directly next to deep waters. Steve and Billy both notice as Max gets this fire in her eye and neither adult bothers stopping her before pushing an unexpecting Lucas into the water. The whole group bursts into laughter as he makes the splash, well everyone except of course for Lucas.

But quickly the rest of them joined him in the water. All of them swinging in by the rope. Surprisingly the most timid out of all of them was Steve himself, who in a moment of desperation had to have Billy give him a push. 

Billy followed him in with a much larger splash than he had previously achieved. But it wasn’t a competition or anything.

Billy emerged from the water like a fucking mermaid. Graceful. His hair was completely saturated in water yet his curls still managed to pack a punch. He glistened under the rays of the sun and with the reflection of the water beneath him. Steve felt chills up and down his entire body as he watched him float away on his back. Watching as his chiseled chest rose and fell with every breath and the light from the sun reflected off of the water droplets on his sun kissed skin. He would just excuse it for the cool temperature of lake water.

But it wasn’t that cold to be completely honest. It’s June. One of the hottest months of the year and the weather is peaking at nearly 100 degrees. The water feels perfect in actuality. 

Steve swims around for a bit with the boys, plays a couple rounds of Marco Polo, and then excuses himself to lie out on the shore. He watches as they all have a blast. Lucas and Max are basically trying to drown Mike. Will and Dustin are competing to see who can hold their breath underwater the longest. Will has been cheating the entire time and Dustin has absolutely no clue. Billy and El are off in the corner. He’s picking her up and tossing her into the water. They both appear to be having a really good time. Billy is surprisingly really good with El. He’s actually pretty good with all of the kids all things considered. Something must’ve happened when he wasn’t looking because he seemed to be the only one to bat an eye at the mentioning that Billy Hargrove would be joining them on the trip. 

Steve inspected the time and decided to give the kids their 15 minute warning. Sun set was inching closer and they still had other preparations. He watched as Max swam over to where El and Billy were and after watching them exchange a couple sentences, Billy swam away and towards where Steve sat on the shore. 

Billy pushed himself out of the water and dried himself off with a towel. He wrung out his hair and secured the wet mess of curls up with a purple scrunchie. He threw his sweatshirt on, zipper remaining undone showing off his exposed chest, and he plopped down next to Steve. 

Oh boy. Steve hopes Billy didn’t notice the fact that he was staring at him that entire time.

“So what’s the plan for the rest of tonight Stevie?”

Steve feigned annoyance at the nickname (though it secretly made him embarrassingly giddy). “Well we’re going to roast some hot dogs and make some s’mores and hang around the fire before bed.”

“Sounds like a plan Harrington.”

An uncomfortable silence grows from there. The two of them sitting side by side looking out at the lake in front of them. Nothing but the sounds of splashing water and giggling teenagers. Billy is picking at the grass. Thinking. Steve might say he even looks nervous.

“I’m sorry about last November.” Billy doesn’t look up from where it’s pointing towards the overgrown blades of dead grass. 

It’s not the snarky and forced apology he was expecting. To be completely honest he never did expect one. Seven months had passed since it happened and not a single word from Billy. He just left him alone like his sister demanded.

“I’ve wanted to apologize before. But I wasn’t in a great place and didn’t want to screw it up. I probably already did by taking so long.” He took a deep breath and finally looked up. Eyes focused on the lake and avoiding Steve’s gaze. “I needed to make sure I was apologizing for the right reasons. Not just to get my sister off my back or to somehow make myself feel better about what I did to your face. I needed to apologize so that you knew that I was sorry. And I needed to be okay with you not forgiving me for it. So that’s why I’m saying it now.”

 Billy finally looks over at Steve who has been staring at Billy with wide eyes. It’s weird, because when Steve thinks about it, he kind of forgave him a long time ago. Because yeah, what Billy did was shitty, but not completely unfounded. He’s been underneath someone like that, barreling into him without care, more than once. It would have been easy to say Billy and his interaction was nothing like what he had with Jonathan Byers. Billy was actually a bad guy. 

But that’s the thing. He really wasn’t. Not after everything happened. 

He wasn’t outwardly kind. But he didn’t start shit. He minded his own business and moved through high school the same way everyone else did. And after hearing Max and Dustin and El vouch for him to come on this trip, well that sort of just sealed the deal. He forgave him before he even apologized.

But here he was. Apologizing. And for some reason Steve was rethinking ever forgiving him. It made no sense. But somehow actually knowing and believing Billy was actually sorry made forgiveness harder. Like in his mind it was easier because Billy didn’t get to know that he was forgiven. He was scared by telling Billy that he would be justifying what he did. 

So Steve doesn’t respond. And he can tell that Billy’s upset about it. It’s only been ten minutes but he decides to call the kids out of the water anyway.

- : -

The sun was setting and everyone had gathered around the campfire to roast marshmallows. Things had been ever so tense between Steve and Billy ever since their conversation at the lake. No one else seemed to notice though. 

It was easy to distract himself from Billy’s saddened state by watching as Dustin set his marshmallow on fire. Every time without fail. Max wasn’t roasting hers, just eating the marshmallows straight out of the bag because she doesn’t like graham crackers. Billy was intently making the most golden brown marshmallow for El because she didn’t know how to properly roast her own. It was really sweet. Billy seemed happy to do it but at the same time he had that lingering gloomy look on his face that would come in and out of existence.

Steve felt a little bad because he did that. Yeah, it’s the guy who nearly killed him, but he didn’t want to make him sad. 

He brightened up a little bit when the bickering began between Dustin and Mike. This was the reason they couldn’t share a tent. Max, El, and Billy moved into their own conversation out of earshot while Steve tried to calm down an overly enthusiastic Dustin.

When the argument ended Billy was looking to be in a much better mood than before. It was a little odd. They noticed the fire starting to dim so Max and El quickly excused themselves to go gather some more twigs from the forest. 

Billy was poking at the fire with a stick, trying to keep it alive (masking a developing smirk on his face).

“Hey Steve!!” Max’s voice echoes. “There’s a gaping hole in your tent!” 

El is stifling a laugh. Steve doesn’t seem to notice.

Steve rushes over to inspect the damage and yeah, it’s a gaping hole alright. His entire body could fit through it. How did he not notice it earlier?

“Goddamnit!” Steve curses the air.

“I’m sure Billy wouldn’t mind sharing!” El says, albeit, a little too excitedly.

Steve looks over to Billy who is still poking at the fire. “Yeah. I got room, I don’t mind.” 

And now Steve can’t just say no. He’d have to give a reason and well… he’s kind of strapped for an alternative so, Billy’s tent it is.

- : -

They stay by the campfire until the sun has completely set and the fire has gone out on its own. They broke out a couple of Beers and after several minutes of constant begging Steve caved and let the party have a small amount of beer each, poured into a red solo cup.

“This tastes like shit.” Dustin made a ridiculous face.

“Still better than New Coke.” Mike chimed in.

Billy helped Steve carry his things over to Billy’s tent. It was extremely awkward. Billy hadn’t really said a word to Steve the entire time and now they were supposed to sleep side by side in a pretty compact space? This should be fun.

An over dramatic yawn released by Max was their signal to head to sleep. The stars were clear above them and they had a pretty eventful day. Steve made sure everything was good while the rest of them piled into their own tents. Once he’s sure the food is secured and everyone is where they’re supposed to be, he sucks in a sharp breath and makes his way over to Billy in his tent.

Billy is already in his sleeping bag. He’s got a book in one hand and a flashlight in his other. Steve quickly discards his shoes and jeans and covers himself in his own sleeping bag. 

They’re both facing away from each other. It isn’t until Steve hears the click of the flashlight and the illumination in the tent disappears that he realizes neither of them have spoken. 

Steve has been thinking about the apology all night. He planned to just leave it be. Maybe thank him for apologizing but leave it at that. But seeing how much he’s changed and seeing how sincere he was being told him maybe Billy deserved to be forgiven. He also looked like he needed to be forgiven, despite what he said before at the lake. 

“I needed to apologize so that you knew that I was sorry. And I needed to be okay with you not forgiving me for it. So that’s why I’m saying it now.”

“I forgive you Billy.”

“Hmm?”

“I said I forgive you. I’m sorry I didn’t say it back at the lake.” Steve took in a deep breath and continued. “I wasn’t sure if it would be the right thing. But you’re clearly not the same person you were that night. I just didn’t really see it at first. I’m going to have to get used to this new and improved version of Billy Hargrove.”

Billy smiled to himself. 

“Thanks.”

Steve smiled too. 

The tent grew silent again after that. But it was slightly less tense than it was before.

“Can I say something stupid?” Billy asks.

Steve turns over to face Billy. He laughs. “Yeah. It’d be nice hearing it come from someone else for a change.”

Billy doesn’t turn to face Steve, but he can tell that he’s nervous because it’s quiet enough to hear his breathing quicken.

“I like you. Like… in that way. Sorry if that’s weird.”

Steve is quick to respond.

“Hey, it’s not weird. Don’t apologize for that.” He’s thinking a lot about Will. He and Dustin had talked about it before. How they’d be sure to make sure that Will knew it was okay whenever he chose to tell them. He doesn’t see why that should be any different for anyone else. Including Billy Hargrove.

But he guesses this is kind of different. It’s not just a confession of being into guys. It’s a confession of being into a specific guy. The specific guy in question being Steve.

It would also be pretty hypocritical of Steve to be weirded out. Not two hours ago he was fully objectifying Billy’s shirtless body. He might not like Billy. But dammit he was definitely attracted to him.

“If you’re uncomfortable I can hike back to the Camaro and sleep there. It’s not a problem.”

Billy had already begun unzipping the sleeping bag. Steve instinctively put a hand on Billy’s shoulder. 

“Hey. Billy it’s seriously alright. Look at me.”

Billy hesitated before rolling over. Their eyes met and due to the compact nature of their current sleeping arrangement, their faces lie mere inches away from each other. Steve had planned something to say, but he instantly forgot when he looked into Billy’s eyes. They weren’t the eyes belonging to an egregious asshole. They were the eyes belonging to a scared kid that maybe, given the time, Steve could grow to like. 

He could try blaming it on the beer. But Billy and himself both knew he didn’t even finish the one. But still, Steve inched closer and kissed him. It was soft and gentle. Steve moved a hand up to caress Billy’s cheek. Billy gently grabbed Steve’s wrist and deepened the kiss. 

Steve could feel Billy’s smile on his lips. 

He slithered his other hand underneath Billy and pulled him in closer. Their bodies were completely pressed against each other at every point, save for the thickness of not one but two sleeping bags separating skin from skin. 

Still they could feel each other’s heartbeats increase as their pace did the same. The kiss turned from gentle to one filled with need. 

Billy began working at the zipper of his sleeping bag with his other hand and was able to break free. He rolled Steve over onto his back and situated one leg on either side of Steve’s hips. Their lips didn’t come unattached. Steve moved both hands to the back of Billy’s head and he took fists full of hair and tugged gently, causing Billy to quietly moan into his mouth.

It was complete euphoria.

Billy was in just his boxers. Meanwhile Steve was still beneath the thick material of his sleeping bag. Billy unzipped it quickly for Steve and immediately tossed it off of him. Billy snaked a hand underneath Steve’s shirt. Moving up and down the full length of his chest. Appreciating his minimal chest hair. On the trip back down Billy’s hand palmed Steve’s crotch where he was quickly becoming hard from all of the friction. Steve let out a gasp as he made contact. 

“We can’t. The kids’ll hear us.”

“Then you’ll just have to be quiet pretty-boy.”

Billy waited for Steve to give indication that it was okay to continue. Steve laughed and pulled him back down to meet his lips. Billy hiked up his shirt and they shortly separated to pull it over his head. Billy moved back in to Steve’s neck and sucked harshly on several spots before peppering kisses all along the length of his torso until he reached his navel. Billy stuck his thumbs underneath the waistband of Steve’s briefs and slowly rolled them down.

Billy moves so that he’s in between Steve’s legs and lowers his head into his groin. Steve feels as the tension builds in the pit of his stomach from the delicate touch of Billy’s tongue. Even under the chill from the night air he’s warm all over.

“Feels so good Billy, Fuck!” He quickly puts a hand over his mouth when he realizes he said that a little too loudly.

Steve is just lying there, experiencing the utter bliss that is Billy Hargroves mouth wrapped around his cock making him feel every sensation all at once. 

“I’m close.” He whispers. God he really hopes the kids are asleep.

“Come for me pretty-boy.”

And boy does he. Just the way he said it was enough for Steve. He was a goner at the mere drop of the words ‘pretty boy’.

Billy wiped away at his mouth and crawled back up to lay down next to him. Steve immediately pulls him into another kiss. He’s not quite ready to come down from the high he was currently in. Billy’s mouth on his was a fucking drug. 

It’s weird to thank people after sex right?

Steve settles for something else when they finally part.

“It’s my turn.”

- : -

The two of them wake up in a single sleeping bag. Steve has his arms wrapped around Billy’s wasted and his head tucked into the crook of his neck. Steve is sweating because Billy’s is a goddamn space heater.

He can hear the rustling of the tents outside and quickly wakes up Billy so they can get out of their current suggestive position.

Billy in his sleepy state gives Steve a quick kiss on the lips. He’s quickly woken up by Dustin screaming at everyone to wake up from outside the tent. 

“We’ll talk about this later?” Steve says with a laugh.

Billy nods and gives him another quick kiss before getting up and tossing on a new pair of clothes. 

Once dressed they both exit the tent to see everyone making their way to the picnic table. 

They pull out several boxes of cereal and some milk from the cooler and begin eating their breakfast. Billy is sitting across from Steve, gently kicking at his feet. 

“Hey Steve what happened to your neck?” Dustin asks.

Steve’s eyes go wide and he quickly comes up with a cover.

“Oh uh, there were a lot of mosquitoes last night. Wouldn’t leave me alone.”

They all seem to accept the response and go back to their breakfasts.

Billy smirks at him from across the table and Steve stomps on his foot.

- : -

Max, Billy and El say their goodbyes and head off in the Camaro. 

Once the Engine is running and they’ve started driving away they all burst into laughter.

“I can’t believe you actually took a knife to Steve’s tent.”

“I can’t believe you actually fucked Steve!”

[someonewhowannadielol]

inevitable love (Yandere!Taehyung x SmolBaby!Reader)

You obviously couldn’t take care of yourself, so Kim Taehyung took matters in his own hands. Literally.

Warning: Harassment, loads of capitalism (kinda ironic that I hate capitalism, considering I’m an Econ student sigh), big dog chase idrk, y/n complains a lot lmao also she’s textbook smart but lowkey dumb,,, like me, I'm literally y/n anywaYS 

CHAPTER ONE (Honestly, its more of a prologue)

P.S Sorry, this one's mostly focused on Y/N, I promise Taehyung will make it in the next chap! 

Word Count: 1.4k

This was ridiculous. You had graduated from one of the finest business schools in the world, yet, here you were, sitting in your shabby studio apartment, listening to another rejection after the countless job interviews while watching the paint peel off the walls. You never really thought life would lead to this, you sitting here on your mattress, eating (probably uncooked) ramen, and crossing another job opportunity. The ramen wasn’t that bad, there were no complaints about it from your side anyways, because you couldn’t cook for shit and any food other than premade food was a waste in this household. You still have nightmares about the incident when you accidentally forgot to take off the plastic packaging off the sliced cheese before making a cheese sandwich in the microwave. Only to watch the microwave - and the cheese – explode in front your eyes. The poor baby.

Glancing at your watch, you realize that you have to head downtown to your job – which was paid under minimum wage, but it did make you better off than the homeless, and the jobless. You could still afford at least one meal a day (Was cup ramen considered a meal?) and the chef at the diner would sneakily give you food, sigh, he was so nice. Sometimes, you look back, and think where things went wrong. You were basically a child genius, always a couple classes ahead of your peers, you got almost got a perfect score on the SAT at the first try (it was a 1560!), you got your bachelor’s degree at the age of 18, instead of the usual 22. You look back and see how you used to think that you could afford a luxurious penthouse apartment in Manhattan and pay off your student loans within a year, while working in one of the best companies in world.

You did have the textbook knowledge, but who was there to teach you about the practical world? The real world? The textbooks didn’t teach you how to pay your water and electricity bills, they didn’t teach you how to hold your tears back when the landlord puts a suggestive hand on your waist, they didn’t teach you how to accept countless rejections, or how to use coupons while grocery shopping, or how to ignore the everyday catcalls, or how to walk through the streets at night. They didn’t teach you how to cope with the fact that your father died but you didn’t have enough money for a flight back to your hometown, they didn’t teach you how to not shout at your mother who got a new family, they didn’t teach you the reality.

So, here you were, two years later, serving disgusting men who harassed you, while wearing a skirt that was too short for your liking and heels that made your feet ache every single day. Somehow, it was worse today. Your hair wouldn’t co-operate, your mascara had officially dried out and no amount of contact solution could revive it from its flaky texture, your manager basically manipulated you to wear red lipstick, and these goddamn heels won’t stop hurting your feet.

At this point, I’m just going to die from the chronic feet pain, you thought.

It was just an endless day of serving, picking up dirty dishes, and of course, ignoring the occasional disgusting words of “endearment” from your customers. You were just picking up the mess of ketchup left by a couple of rowdy boys who sat here 15 minutes earlier, repeatedly asking for your number. Interesting enough, despite all the catcalling, you can only recall four people asking for your number.

The first one had been a wannabe bike rider, he was tall, around 6’4 – give or take – and quite chunky with a full curly beard down to his chest. Despite knowing some people who would dig this vibe, you personally didn’t love the entire ensemble. In fact, you cringed whenever you saw these people perform their tricks on the streets (You cringed even more when you saw them fall and smash their head open. Yikes).

You remember, it was your third day at the newly acquired job, and while you weren’t all that ecstatic to start working here (You were already looking for other, more well paid jobs with more benefits), you still respected the job requirement and went up to the customer and asked, “What would you like to order, sir?” in your sweetest voice possible.

“Well, what’s on the special menu?”

Special menu? You weren’t informed about any special menu, maybe your manager forgot to tell you?

“I’m sorry, I’m quite new here, I’ll go confirm this special menu with my manager,” and just as you tried to go to your manager – who by the way had been keeping an eye on you since you got here, you could say she wasn’t exactly fond of you – scary biker dude grabbed your wrist, a little too tight to be called comfortable, and you couldn’t help but wince.

“Oh sweetheart, you’re the first and only item on the special menu. And I’d like to order that, with a side of Vanilla milkshake,”

Okay, crinnngggeee.

And then, as impossible as it seemed, you were forced to smile and laugh it off, even if it disgusted you to the core. And then, you were manipulated to hand over your phone number.

Just go with the flow, Y/N, just go with the flow. Block it later, no worries.

He was known to be a usual customer, but surprisingly, he didn’t actually ever come to the diner after that, nor did he call you. Now that you notice, no one you gave your number to, actually did call you. Whether it was the biker, or the druggie, or the 50-year-old man who promised to buy you a yacht. Eh, he was so old, he probably died on his way home. So, you never knew whether to take it as an insult, or a blessing.

Well, this day was almost over until 5 minutes before closing down, a bunch of people, who were probably high, because of the unmistakable scent of weed coming from them – came and demanded to be served. Of course, the manager could score any penny she could, so of course, you were forced to work overtime again. Without getting paid.

Finally, a little after 1am, you could take off these horrid heels and slip into the much comfier sketchers. Sure, you had glued them a couple of times, and sure, they kept on breaking because you’ve had them since high school, but it’s okay. You’ll live.

You were halfway down the route to your house, as you tried to rub your fingers together and somehow magically take away the freezing wind this cold night brought. As you walked, you attempted to feel your phone in your back pocket – annddd just when you thought your day couldn’t get any worse. You’d probably left it back in your locker or your apron’s pocket and for a second you contemplated whether it would be worth it to go all the way back at 2am to get you phone. You almost decided against it, but remembered that you would get the confirmation call from the job interview you gave on Thursday, anytime tomorrow. And so, you decided to go back. Well, this was one of the worst decisions of your life. Scratch that, it was the worst decision of your life.

You reached the diner in approximately 10 minutes, but obviously, everything was locked and there was no way you’d sneak in there because, phew, if you got caught you’d lose the only job you have. Just as you turned back, you saw the biggest fucking dog you’ve ever seen. You didn’t know much about dogs, except for the fact that you’re shitless scared of the big, scary ones – and this was definitely a big, scary one. His fur was coated with black, brown and red spots, about half your height, and had teeth that could tear a human in mere seconds.

You didn’t really know whether to run or gently walk away, making it think you weren’t a threat – you took a couple slow steps back while looking at it in the eye, but you’re a dumbass and suddenly decided to run. Somehow along the run you lost the dog. And one of your shoes. And your apartment keys. And your bag which contained this week’s paycheck.

Well, you were fucked.

A/N: Please do give feedback! Also, tell me if you want to be on the taglist for this!

[retrievablememories]

a sudden desire | johnny (m)

title: a sudden desire pairing: johnny x black reader genre: fluff, smut, fantasy/sci-fi summary: when you make an emergency landing on an ice planet, you have no choice but to seek refuge for the night. word count: 5.4k warnings: detailed description of an injury, mentions of violence, tending to wounds, mentions of insecurities, heavy petting, fingering, some dirty talk, unprotected sex—do not try at home!! 🔞 a/n: this exists in the same universe as my other fic, empathy. i’m developing this universe literally as i go, so plz excuse any plot holes, illogical shit, etc. i feel like this might be a bit too similar to another fic i wrote on here, but whatever chile it’s an excuse for some johnny smut so...bone app the teeth

The cold bites into your nose, fingertips, lips—the very bone marrow of your body. All you can do is shudder against the strong, icy wind beating across your skin and cling tighter to the backpack on your shoulders. You flex your fingers on the backpack straps to keep the blood circulating in them, though that doesn’t do much good when they hurt too much to move properly.

“Fuck, it’s freezing,” Ten curses beside you, and you’d agree if your lips didn’t feel frozen shut. Out of all places for your ship to give out, it’s just your luck that it happened on Kankara. Ice planet or not, though, you all made it out only by the skin of your teeth. The raiders who were on your tail would’ve surely taken advantage of the ship’s ruined state—one that they caused—if Laila and Lucas hadn’t taken them out with their gunning skills.

You, Ten, Lucas, and Laila huddle together near the entrance of the repair garage as you watch Johnny transfer the team’s credits to the repairman. Surprisingly, he’s one of the few other humans you’ve encountered in your travels across the galaxy, and it makes you wonder how he ended up here.

You already know there aren’t going to be many credits left after paying to fix the extensive damages the ship sustained, which is even more reason to get it in working order again. Because once it’s running, you can seek more missions—and more bounties.

“What’s the cheapest place around here that we can crash at for a while?” Johnny asks the man once he takes his Unit Pad back. The man scoffs, throwing him a look that’s equal parts sympathetic and amused.

“Not many hovercabs run around here, especially this time of night. The closest and cheapest place you’ll reach on foot is Drakar’s Motel...but it ain’t shit to write home about.” The man gives Johnny the directions. Most of what he says goes in one of your ears and out the other. You’ll be amazed if half of your brain isn’t frozen by the time you get indoors.

Laila sighs at the prospect of shacking up in a strange place. “I wish we could take the smaller craft,” she says, stomping her feet like a child.

“Too bad it got damaged too,” Lucas says, rubbing her shoulders in a futile attempt to warm her up. “These raiders are fuckin’ ruthless, man.”

“I guess it’ll have to do,” Johnny sighs, pocketing his pad and making his way back to the group. He reaches for one of your hands and you uncurl it from your backpack strap to take his. It’s an effort, but you feel better the instant his skin is on yours, so you think it’s worth it.

The snow never stops falling on this planet. It’s a perpetual winter, only much less jolly and welcoming than your typical winter wonderland. There doesn’t seem to be much of anything here. Just scattered buildings, empty streets, snow, and more snow—like a frozen desert. You don’t mind a bit of cold weather every now and then, but this is an extreme you don’t think you could ever get used to.

Kankara’s neighboring moons hang large in the sky, providing ample light to travel by. At least you don’t have to worry too much about whatever’s lurking in the dark.

Thankfully, you don’t have to walk the streets for too long before a bright glow begins manifesting through the ice and snow, as if some holy mirage. The slanted edges of a building come into focus, and it becomes clear that this is the motel’s silhouette.

“Finally!” Ten kicks a mound of snow in front of him and it sprays up around Laila, who promptly blesses him out for dousing her in more cold. As usual, Lucas has to squeeze his way in between them to stop the ensuing mess.

The first thing you notice about the motel is its neon sign. Not all of the letters work, so it looks more like “a a’s ote” than “Drakar’s Motel.” You simply chuckle and roll your eyes at that. If you were the one who had to come out in this cold to fix the letters, you’d leave the shit alone too.

There’s not much to see on the outside of the motel, with white powder covering nearly every inch of its exterior. You have to admit that it looks quite small, though, even from farther away.

When you all get inside, you realize it’s not much better. The temperature in the lobby is only a few degrees higher than the outside, at most. Not brutally cold anymore, but certainly not enough to warm anybody up. The lobby itself is barely bigger than one floor of your ship, and the burning fluorescent lights make you feel like a bug pinned underneath a glass pane, strangely lit up and displayed for all to see.

An extraterrestrial you recognize as a Vykyll sits behind the check-in counter reading a magazine. They’re balancing their chin on one of their tentacles, looking half-asleep and extremely bored with their job...or with life itself. Their nametag reads “Srynei.”

Srynei looks up from their magazine and gives you all a weary expression. “Before you even ask, there are only two one-beds available. The other rooms are either occupied or defunct.”

“One bed?” Lucas echoes, his eyes widening. He looks stuck between incredulity and annoyance.

You and Johnny glance at each other. He shrugs. “Well…it’s not like we have the money to pay for anything better, anyway.” He takes out his Unit Pad to hand to the alien. “Book it for five nights.”

Srynei places their magazine down and takes out a Unit Pad with the motel’s logo on it. “2 rooms for 50 credits a night...you got it.”

“Defunct? What does that mean?” Laila asks, furrowing her eyebrows.

“It means we can’t stay in those rooms, dumbass,” Ten replies, flicking her forehead. She catches his wrist before he can pull away fast enough and twists it, making him yelp in pain.

“I know what it means, watermelon head. I’m asking, why are they defunct?”

“Burst pipes, leaks, shattered windows from the sheer amount of cold...not my problem, though, I just check in the guests.” Srynei rolls their eyes as if they’re exhausted with the absurdity of the entire situation. You can’t imagine how many off-world visitors Kankara gets for the motel to still be in business, but stranger things have happened.

After the transaction is finished, Srynei holds out two room keys and you take them. 102 and 105, which means at least you won’t have to venture back out to use the stairs.

“So who’s sleeping with who?” Laila asks.

“I thought that was obvious,” Lucas snickers, wrapping his arms around her and Ten’s shoulders. He squishes them against his body in a too-tight hug and they both complain for air. “We should all leave these two,” he nods his head in your and Johnny’s direction, “to themselves, shouldn’t we?” It makes sense. The statement is innocent enough, but the sly faces of your three friends reveal their true thoughts.

“Can you not?” You laugh nervously, tossing Lucas the key for room 105. “I’m about ready to hit the sheets, so…” You don’t wait for his response before making your way down the hall, which is a tad narrower than you’re comfortable with. Everyone else will probably end up walking single-file to fit through. “God, this place is a claustrophobic nightmare.”

You fit the key in the lock and try to keep your mind off what Lucas just said. With some success. Okay, not a lot.

You and Johnny have been together for a little over 5 moon cycles now, but it’s safe to say you haven’t done much other than kiss and cuddle—which is mostly fine with you. But sometimes, you wonder how he feels about it and if he’s...content with it? Or maybe even growing tired of it? You feel bad for even thinking like that, because you know he doesn’t care and you shouldn’t either, but…

This isn’t the first time you’ve slept in the same bed together, but now that’s it been brought up, you can’t keep your mind off the subject of doing more. And as if on-cue, it makes your oh-so-familiar self-doubts rise to the surface.

“Are you okay?” Johnny’s voice interrupts your thoughts. His hand clasps over yours, and that’s when you realize you’ve been fumbling with the key in the lock for a good few moments now. He steadies your hand and helps you finally turn the key and unlock the door. “You must be really cold, let’s get you inside.”

“It’s not gonna be much warmer in there...” you say. The other three are already raising hell as they try to squeeze past each other in the small corridor, and you know it’s going to be a long few days.

The room is just as small as you expect it to be—and just as cold. There’s a heating and air conditioning unit by the window, though you doubt even it works judging by the room’s temperature. “Sometimes I feel like we never left Earth. Some of this stuff is so similar…” You wonder if the motel was purposely modeled after its Earth-based counterparts, or if there simply weren’t enough funds to spring for more advanced alien tech.

You don’t know a lot about Kankara, but you’ve heard it mostly described as a vast and cold-hearted place. The latter characteristic is undeniable of the weather, but you don’t know if you can make that kind of snap judgment for the planet’s inhabitants. Living somewhere like this will make anyone’s ambitions and hopes shrink to near nothingness, centering more on survival than basic pleasures.

“Takes getting used to,” Johnny sighs, closing the door and stripping off his two outer jackets as carefully as possible. “It’s like déjà vu.”

“You should get cleaned up,” you say, fiddling with the switches on the HVAC. As you thought, nothing works. That’s lovely.

“You should go first.” Johnny comes over to you and rubs his hands on your arms to try and warm you up.

“No way, I’m not the injured one here. I’d think you need it more than me.”

“Isn’t the first and probably won’t be the last. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

Johnny moves your braids to the side and kisses your cheek in what is usually an innocent gesture. Him saying, “Don’t make me beg,” immediately after, though, makes it decidedly less so.

“O-okay,” you squeak, rushing to grab your clothes and head to the bathroom.

The bathroom is plain as hell, but clean, at least. You scrub off as much of the day’s dirt and grime as you can. Thankfully, the water isn’t as cold as the rest of the place, but it still isn’t as warm as you’d prefer.

Johnny takes his turn after you dress and come out. You climb onto the bed and notice that a portion of the window is in view—he must’ve pushed the drapes back. You stare out of the glass, watching the snow fall endlessly and wondering how it never piles higher. It’s as if the planet is in stasis, perpetually frozen on both a physical and time-based level.

Johnny comes out of the shower shirtless and looking not much happier than he was when he got in. His mouth is tucked into that straight line that always makes you laugh. “The hot water only lasted about 2 more minutes before it cut out on me, so that was fun.”

You try not to snort. “That’s tragic, Johnny.”

“Truly a modern tragedy,” he says sarcastically, brushing his wet bangs out of his eyes. He glances at you over his shoulder as he puts his worn clothes away. “Maybe we could take a shower together next time.”

“I’m sure,” you murmur, embarrassed, tucking your knees up close to your chest.

You glance at the wound just below the left side of his ribcage. It’s mostly scar tissue, no thanks to the cauterizing heat of the blaster shot that struck him, but it still looks horrible. And it must feel similarly, with the way he moves around the room being extra careful of it.

“You need to redress it,” you tell him.

“I know,” he sighs, his shoulders slumping at the thought of doing that. Johnny turns back to look at you, a pout on his bow-shaped lips. “Will you help me?”

A small smile crosses your lips. “Okay.” Johnny roots around in his pack for the medical supplies he remembered to pack before you all ditched the ship. He takes out the roll of bandages, AntiBac Gel, and bandage clips and hands them to you before gingerly climbing on the bed, propping a pillow against the headboard to lean on.

“We’re lucky we got away when we did,” you say, spreading the AntiBac over the wound. “Those bastards wouldn’t let up…”

“We definitely would’ve been way worse off without the others,” Johnny agrees. He glances at your hand moving across his skin. “Seeing you fight always reminds me of when we first met, though…all those training sessions we had, I mean.”

“Why?” You grimace slightly at the scarred edges of the wound. Not because you’re disgusted, but because you feel bad at how painful it looks.

“Back then, you were ruthless…and it fascinated me. Even though I’m not a huge fan of violence.” His lips twitch as if he doesn’t mean to smile about it, but he does anyway. “And you’re still the same but it’s...like, different, you know?”

“I’m afraid I don’t.” You laugh, unraveling the bandage and beginning to wrap it around his chest.

“I can’t explain it,” he says, looking at you from behind his still-soggy bangs. You glance at him, drinking in the curve of his cheekbones and his chin in the light of the bedside lamp. “It’s just...everything seems a little different when you’re in love with someone.”

Your fingers falter with the bandage for a second, and you hope he doesn’t notice. If he does, he doesn’t acknowledge it. “I suppose I can’t argue with that,” you say. “But...I’m just doing what has to be done. To keep ourselves alive. It gets scary out there, and…” You falter, unsure what to say. Or if you should say what you’re thinking.

“And you can’t live without me?” Johnny says, putting his hand over his heart.

“You literally never get tired, do you?” You grin, finishing the bandage and securing it with the clips.

“I dunno, sometimes. I am just a human, after all.” Johnny brings a hand up to tuck a stray braid back into your scarf. He lies back on the small bed when you’re done, taking your hand in his and kissing it. “Thank you, my queen. How can I ever repay you from saving me from a certain demise?”

“You’re such a clown.” You shake your head, laughing and pulling away from him long enough to put away the makeshift first-aid kit.

After you store the supplies, you climb back onto the bed. It’s barely enough for the both of you, let alone Johnny’s big body, and you find yourself nearly on top of him. You mentally will your palms not to sweat as you sit in such close proximity to him while he’s half-naked. You do enjoy it, though. A lot. You find yourself tracing one of his many old scars—one long line extending across his bicep—with your gaze.

“Didn’t you get that one from the day we escaped the EECA?” you ask quietly.

Johnny glances at it and nods, his lips curling into a slight smile. “Mm...yeah. Remember when Lucas kissed you that day?”

“I don’t want to remember.” Your skin grows hot with the memory, though more out of embarrassment than anything else.

“Did you enjoy it?” His eyes crinkle with laughter.

You give him a skeptical look. “No, not really!? We didn’t know each other that well then, and I don’t like having my personal space invaded.”

Johnny considers that, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth before looking at you. “What about me?” His tone lowers and he inches closer, glancing at your lips.

You raise your eyebrows and place a hand on his chest. “I know you aren’t trying it with a serious wound right now.”

“I’m already halfway hard.” He smirks, adjusting his sleep pants.

Your chest warms straight through, enough to make you forget all about the frigidness of the motel room. You feel both anxious and enthralled. The two emotions create a conflicting dichotomy inside of you, and it makes you uncertain of how to respond. You shove his shoulder, making sure to be careful of his side. “What kind of freak gets off on having their wounds tended to?”

You both laugh, but Johnny grins nervously after a moment, suddenly becoming much more shy than he was a few minutes ago. “You know it’s all just me being silly, right? You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I just want you to be comfortable.”

You just hum and look at him, regarding his features, before kissing him very tenderly on the lips. “I know, John.” After you pull away, you continue observing each other, though it doesn’t feel awkward, just—tense. Without a word, you both lean in and kiss again, a little deeper than before. His hand cradles the side of your face and neck, drifting between the two as if he isn’t sure where to settle.

Johnny licks into your mouth and you respond in kind, sliding your arm across his shoulders to pull him a little closer. Your touch is often still tentative with him, especially when you’re more intimate like this, still not quite sure if you’re allowed to have this, if it’s okay to indulge.

Johnny pulls away slightly to rest his forehead on yours, his lips still moving against your mouth when he speaks. “We...really don’t have to if you’re not ready,” he says, sounding slightly winded from the kiss alone.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” you respond. You touch the hem of the bandages where they meet his skin, a little above his abs, and your hand keeps hovering there, unsure if you can touch him that way.

“It doesn’t matter,” he responds, moving closer to kiss you again.

You don’t know how long you sit there simply kissing each other, tasting each other’s lips as if there will never be enough of this—this sweetness shared between you.

After a beat of hesitation, you allow yourself to touch his abdomen, feeling the firm indentations of muscle underneath your hand. He’s impossibly warm even though you’re on an ice planet—it’s like he’s his own personal space heater. His skin is soft under yours, and he smells good enough to drown in forever.

In response to your touches, Johnny’s hand leaves your face and travels to your side, sliding down your waist and lower to your hip. His fingers are close to the inside of your thigh, moving over the fabric of your pajama pants.

Your hand drifts to the waistband of his pants, too, though you hesitate to go further. You realize with a bit of surprise, though, that you very much want this, more than you possibly let yourself believe. There are still many things you’re apprehensive about doing or saying with Johnny, but in this present point in time, you feel positive that you want to feel him in, around, under, over top of you—it doesn’t matter how.

Johnny’s lips separate from yours, and he moves his mouth to the soft skin of your cheek, ear, jaw, neck. Wherever he can reach is fair game at this point. “You can touch me. If you want.” He says this while kissing your neck, letting his voice vibrate across your nerves and seep into the very fibers of your being.

You take up his offer.

You tentatively slide your hand past the waistband. You don’t go underneath his underwear, but that’s fine for you. For the both of you. Instead, you feel him over the fabric, caressing the curve of his hardening cock and teasing the sensitive head with trembling fingers. Johnny moans softly against your neck, sighing and pressing his hips a little closer into your hand.

“Should I let you have all the fun?” he asks, kissing your throat.

“No,” you reply, breathless but still amused, “that wouldn’t be very fair, would it.”

Johnny vocalizes his pleasure and agreement when his fingers slip lower, pressing between your legs and gliding over your clit through the layers of your clothing. Your breath hitches, but you don’t stop stroking his dick, and he grows bolder with his own actions, sliding his hand up and away—only for a second—and then down into your pants, burdened with one less layer and giving you more calculating touches.

He strokes your clit as if he’s never touched anything so gently, and it makes you grip the back of his damp head and pull him closer to you, if at all possible. He answers that need for proximity by coming back up to claim your lips again, your tongues gliding against each other’s in the room’s quiet.

Your fingers are sticky from Johnny’s precum leaking into his underwear and onto your hand, and likewise, you are growing increasingly wetter in his hold.

Johnny moves as if he means to climb on top of you, but he winces and grunts halfway through the motion and you stop, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Are you hurt? I told you this wasn’t a good idea…”

“Stop worrying about me,” he says, though he doesn’t try to move again. “It’s just a little pain...but, um...maybe on the side is better.”

You nod, and you both spend a few awkward seconds shuffling around on the bed so Johnny is spooning you instead, your back to his front. You feel a little disappointed about not being able to see him, but that dissipates when he resumes touching you and kissing your nape. You mean to reach behind you to take care of him, too, but he seems content with gently rocking his hips against your ass, grinding his dick between your cheeks.

“Is this enough for you?” he asks, his voice soft and deep.

“W-what?” You can guess what he means, but being asked takes you off guard.

“Do you like how I’m touching you?” Johnny applies a little more pressure on your clit when he asks this, and you try unsuccessfully to not shudder like a leaf in a windstorm at the sensation. Combined with the sound of his voice, it’s an electrifying kind of feeling. “Or do you want more?”

It seems like every part of your body is throbbing with yes. “I...want more.”

Johnny lays a kiss against your shoulder. You feel him pull your underwear to the side and drag his middle finger against your clit and down to your hole, teasing you as if he doesn’t think he’ll insert it. Your body tenses and you moan. You don’t know if you should press back against his dick or into his hand, and it’s the sweetest, yet hardest, decision you’ve ever had to make.

Johnny finally eases his finger inside of you and makes a sound you can’t quite distinguish. “Is this all for me?”

“W-who else would it be for?” Your words are almost lost to the pillow as you use it to muffle your increasing sounds.

“I’m flattered, really. You shouldn’t have,” he snickers, pumping his finger into you. He makes sure to drag his palm across your clit as he does, carefully but firmly enough to make you pant. He caresses your inner walls until he finds your G spot and then focuses his energies on pleasuring that part of you.

“Shit...Johnny…” You curl your fingers into the fabric of the sheets beneath you.

Johnny slips another finger into you, and the stretch sets your nerves on fire with a more intense bliss. His mouth returns to your skin, kissing and licking and biting you everywhere.

“Johnny, please…” You reach back to grasp his hair, needing something to hold onto. He slips his right hand to your front, grasping one of your breasts through your shirt and running his thumb over the hardened nipple. You two are a tangle of limbs at this point, blurring into each other in the best possible way.

Your abdomen grows tense and your stomach warms as you come closer to your orgasm. You find yourself gripping Johnny’s arm, wanting him deeper inside of you, yet nearly wishing he’d stop for fear of being overwhelmed.

“Are you gonna come? Good. I wanna feel you gush around me,” Johnny whispers into your ear. He slips his right hand past the collar of your shirt, palming your bare breasts and pinching your nipples between his fingers.

You moan brokenly as the cord tethering you to your composure snaps, making you come and clench around Johnny’s fingers. The sound of him fucking you with his hand grows wetter, and you hear Johnny cursing in response.

Just when you think you can’t take anymore of his fingers curling into your spot, he pulls them out and puts them in his mouth, sucking them clean.

“You taste so good.” Johnny sounds drunk with lust—as if him rutting against your ass wasn’t enough of an indicator. You crane your head towards him, grip his chin, and bring his lips down to yours, tasting yourself on his mouth. He kisses you hungrily as soon as your lips meet. You almost have to pry him away to say your next words.

“I want more...” you say quietly against his lips.

Johnny smirks. “How much more?”

“You know what I want.”

“Hm...do I?”

“John…”

“Yes, queen?”

You blow air through your nose in lieu of cackling outright. “Inside me, please.”

Johnny gives you a soft peck before gripping the waistband of your underwear and pushing it down your legs. You help him slide them off the rest of the way, and he does the same for himself. His dick springs up between you, flushed and wet with precum. He grips it and guides it between your thighs, though he doesn’t enter you just yet.

The tip is sticky as it pokes against your thigh and then slides through your lower lips. You shudder at feeling him so close to you, hard and warm and yearning. He rubs against you like that for a few moments, his shaft stimulating your clit and making you leak onto him even more, his dick glistening with it. Johnny grasps your hip and moves your body in tune with his own movements, and you swear you see a tiny explosion of stars every time the vein on his cock rubs your clit.

“You’re killing me,” you sigh, rolling your head against the pillow before quickly stopping. You don’t need the hassle of retying your scarf if it comes off—and God knows it will if you continue.

“I think I’ve tortured us both enough.” Johnny places the tip at your entrance and slowly inches inside. Even that much makes you gasp, and you continue whimpering as he spreads you open with his thick shaft. Johnny’s breaths grow more labored, and he groans long and low when he finally bottoms out.

There’s little room left for words when he starts thrusting, taking it slower than you expected—but you don’t mind. Even though you’re already soaking and pliable from his earlier actions, he takes his time with fucking into you, guiding you along his length and pushing his hips to meet yours in an intimate rhythm. When he brushes against that same sensitive spot with his dick, you feel like your body’s been gripped with an almost painful kind of pleasure. One that holds onto you and refuses to ever let go.

It’s all so overwhelming.

“I love you,” he moans, pushing his cock in and dragging it back out with all the leisure in the world, “so much.” Your mouth falls open, and you want to say something back, anything, but you can’t make the words come out. Instead, you’re taken aback as tears spring to your eyes, choking you and closing your throat off to any sentiment you might want to express.

This isn’t the first time he’s told you that. You both know this well. But within this context, it makes your head spin with a new kind of dizziness. It all feels so good, too good, too much to bear.

You bite his arm to keep yourself silent, though it’s too late, and he feels your tears dripping onto his skin. Johnny handles you as if you’re made of glass, drawing your face towards his as he looks at you and wipes your wet cheeks. You still aren’t comfortable crying in front of him, but he never minds.

“Look at me,” he says. Johnny’s still moving inside you, sliding into you all slick and deep, and it makes you feel nearly too vulnerable to tolerate, as if you’ve been flayed open. But you do it anyway, latching onto his warm eyes. His skin shines from a thin layer of sweat, and it makes his hair stick to his forehead. The lamp light hitting his face makes his eyes look like two never-ending pools of warm honey, and he cups your face and kisses you tenderly when you lock eyes, and it’s all just too much.

“John, holy fuck.” You don’t really mean to say that, of all things, but it can’t be stopped once your orgasm floods through you, only it isn’t the violent and quick kind—it’s more of a slow buildup that finally bursts apart, spreading ecstasy through your whole body. You moan and tremble uncontrollably as Johnny slowly strokes you through your climax, still rubbing your clit and fucking into you deep.

Everything becomes a tiny bit blurrier for you, but you don’t fail to notice his own reactions as he grows closer, his thighs trembling from the effort of keeping his pace even. Finally, Johnny crushes your body against his as if you could melt together, pulling out to cum over your thighs and stomach. He buries his face into your shoulder and groans against you, and it’s a sound you think you’ll want to hear for the rest of your life. He keeps stroking his dick in between your thighs until he’s spent, his chest heaving from the effort of it all.

You both lie there for a few long minutes, simply trying to catch your breath. You still feel the dried tears on your face, though you try your best to ignore them, not wanting to ruin the moment with unwelcome feelings.

Johnny pulls his hand out of your shirt and sits up, though it takes an extra bit of strength on his part. You feel strangely guilty about how much you dislike suddenly being parted from his touch. As if he can sense your unease, Johnny grasps your hand in both of his and gives it a long kiss before going to the bathroom.

You hear the water running. Then, Johnny comes back quickly with a small towel. He climbs onto the bed and helps you into a sitting position.

“I’m sorry it’s not warm.” He smiles sheepishly, dabbing the washcloth against your cheeks as he erases the remnants of the tears.

You give him a small smile in return. “Nothing on this planet is.”

He cleans the mess he left on your lower body before tending to himself. After he’s done, you both pull your clothes back on—because it’s far too cold to sleep without anything on—and Johnny finally finds a shirt.

In the dark of the room, you curl up against each other to keep out the chill. When you wake up in the morning, you know you’ll be greeted to more cold and snow. It’ll still be days before you can return to your ship. Depending on how many credits are left, you might have to swap a few meals for Reserve Paks instead of eating decent food. You can already taste the lukewarm, oatmeal-like consistency of it in your mouth.

Despite that...you still have your friends and teammates. You still have Johnny. Maybe this could be a peculiar form of happiness. Maybe this could be contentment. Something that belongs wholly to you.

You trace a circle on the back of Johnny’s hand, studying his features illuminated by the moonlight spilling through the blinds. You shuffle closer to be level with his ear, and he blinks at you sleepily.

“I love you too.”

[recurring-polynya]

For the AU request, whichever one(s) you prefer (for RenRuki of course):

the X-Men universe

the Mafia/criminal underworld

the circus

as FBI agents (the X-Files world perhaps)

So, I got this ask, and I immediately wanted to go for X-Files, because I was hugely into X-Files when I was a tween/teen, and I think that my actual first published work of fanfic on the internet might actually be X-Files. (I didn’t even post it myself, I was like 12 and I didn’t have the internet at home, but a friend of mine posted it on Usenet for me, I have no idea whatever became of it). Anyway, I was going back and forth in my head who I wanted to be Mulder and who I wanted to be Scully, and then I got this ask:

@ulkoilla​ said:

I though the 10 would be full in about 1 microsecond so I didn’t even try :D This is maybe not AU enough for the purpose but I'd love to see your take on Bleach world where the shinigami work among humans as if they were in gigai -> they'll have to balance the supernatural, perhaps violent elements of their life with the modern day laws and such (like in Supernatural). Renji and Rukia have ofc gotten in trouble with the non-supernatural law (meet: Detective!Aizen?) and are on the run…

It suddenly occurred to me, What If: X-Files World, but Renruki are the cryptids. And it suddenly popped into my head exactly who I wanted to be Mulder. Anyway, I am sorry missrambler, if I messed it all up, I hope you like it anyway.

Also, I somehow thought that I would save myself some trouble by combining two prompts, but then it ended up… really long. (Forty! Eight! Hundred! Words! Go to Talks-Too-Much-Jail, Polynya!!)

PS: This takes place in D.C. because it’s X-Files and also because I am familiar with D.C. and I never get to write about places I know about. A half-smoke is a local delicacy that’s halfway between a hot dog and an Italian sausage. They are delicious.

Read on ao3 or ff.net

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Ichigo Kurosaki had known that an office with a view of the Smithsonian might be too much to ask, but he had not expected to take have to take two separate elevators down to sub-basement C, and walk past a storage room, two broom closets and a weird old vending machine full of brands of snacks he swore he hadn’t seen since he was a child.

Maybe Agent Inoue has a huge lab, he told himself. Maybe it needs to be 50 meters below ground because she collides large hadrons down here or so that her work can’t be picked up by spy satellites.

He had to turn sideways to get past a rack of wire shelves full of banker’s boxes, but there, on the other side was a door sporting a handwritten cardboard nameplate reading “Special Agent Orihime Inoue.”

“Come in!” a voice called inside, just as he raised his hand to knock on the door.

Ichigo blinked twice, and then went in.

The office was cluttered, mostly with more cardboard boxes, but books were also stacked precariously on top of boxes on top of books. The walls were plastered with maps and graphs and photographs of hazy blurs in front of staircases. There was a large poster showing a UFO, with the words “I WANT TO BELIEVE” in block caps below it.

A woman with long chestnut hair twisted up into a bun and held in place with three pencils was hunched over a metal box full of diodes and transistors and other things you would buy at Radio Shack. Or rather, that other people would buy at a Radio Shack. Ichigo had never set foot in a Radio Shack in his life.

“Er, good morning,” Ichigo said, as the woman looked up and blinked at him owlishly. “Agent Inoue? I’m Ichigo Kurosaki. I’ve been assigned to work with you.”

“To spy on me, you mean,” Agent Inoue corrected, cheerfully shaking his hand with great vigor.

Ichigo bristled. Yes, he had been directed to ‘provide additional documentation on Agent Inoue’s activities,’ but that hardly counted as spying. She was known to be somewhat scatterbrained, and having an organized person around would probably be a great benefit to her. “If you have any doubts about my qualifications or motivations--”

“Oh, don’t take it personally!” Inoue replied, slotting a lid onto her electronics project, and attacking it vigorously with a jeweler’s screwdriver. “Just because you’re a spy doesn’t mean you aren’t a nice person. Also, I read your file, you have a very interesting background! Degree in literature with a focus on folk legends. Teaching at the academy for the last few years while working on your book.” She took a momentary break from her screwing to fix him with her big, soft brown eyes. “Tell me, Agent Kurosaki, what do you think happens after you die?”

Ichigo froze. “I would be buried? Maybe there would be a funeral first?”

Inoue started laughing so hard that Ichigo was sure he caught a tiny, adorable snort. “Sorry, sorry! I wasn’t clear!” She sniffed, and wiped a tear from her eye. “Do you believe in continued existence after the death of the body? An afterlife, religion-based or otherwise? The existence of ectoplasm, cold spots, spirit photographs, EVP?”

“Are you talking about… ghosts?” Ichigo asked hesitantly.

“Yes!” Orihime replied with a nod. “Ghosts.”

“We-elll…” Ichigo drew out. “I believe that people believe they observe certain phenomena, as part of the cycle of grief and--”

“Just say ‘no’ if you don’t,” Inoue interrupted him.

“Er, no. I don’t.”

“That’s okay. Are you good at carrying heavy things?”

“Am I... I guess?”

“Perfect!” She shoved the box into his arms, and Ichigo’s knees almost buckled under the weight. “Let’s walk and talk, I want to go get a reading over near Franklin Square before 9 am. We’re gonna pass a really good half-smoke cart on the way, do you like half-smokes?”

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“Take a look at this,” Inoue said, her cheek half stuffed with sausage, jabbing a finger at the LED read-out of her mysterious box.

It was rather hard for Ichigo to see, because he was holding the box and the readout was on the other side, but he did his best to crane his neck around. “What am I looking at? The squiggles? I’m sorry, it looks like nothing to me.”

“Exactly right!” Inoue announced, waving her half smoke in the air. “Not a sniff of spiritual residue!”

Ichigo pressed his lips together. “Um… is that good?”

“It is interesting,” Inoue corrected. “Five days ago, a sixty-four year old woman had a heart attack while sitting in that bus shelter.” On every day since, I have been able to record EMF fluctuations, and on Sunday, I was able to get a voice recording that sounded like a woman reciting a grocery list. But this morning, nothing! Nada!”

“Well, uh, ghosts gotta move on eventually, right? Otherwise, just about everywhere would be haunted, right?” It’s not that Ichigo had suddenly started believing ghosts or anything, but there was something about Agent Inoue that just made you want to go along with her and see where all this panned out.

Inoue shot him a finger gun. “Or, they get moved along.” She shoved a folded paper map at him. “You can put that thing down.”

Ichigo eased the Spirit Detect-O 9000, or whatever it was called, to the grass and accepted her map. It was a street map of DC, meant for tourists, emphasizing all the local transit routes and popular attractions. There was also a great loop marked on it in orange highlighter, zig-zagging back and forth through the city. There was a little ‘x’ marked on Franklin Park, with “Tuesday, early morning” written in a bubbly hand.

“What is this?” Ichigo frowned. It didn’t seem to match up with any of the metro or bus lines. It didn’t even match with the sidewalks, it appeared to cut straight through large buildings like the convention center.

“As far as I can tell,” Inoue said, her brown eyes very solemn, “that is the patrol route of our local grim reaper.”

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“So I actually got interested in grim reapers,” Inoue explained, once they were back in the office, “while I was investigating violent ghost phenomena.” She was eating a bag of corn chips that she had gotten from that ancient vending machine by punching it and then shoving her own arm up the chute. (She’d gotten Ichigo a bag, too, but he was too afraid to eat them.)

Ichigo was sitting at a cluttered table that Inoue had told him “could be his desk.” Half of it was taken up by a large aquarium full of rocks and a water bowl, but no life forms that Ichigo could detect. The other half was covered with back issues of “Ghost Hunter Technology” magazine. “You mean like poltergeists?” he asked.

“Not exactly. Poltergeists are noisy, but they aren’t usually able to kill their targets.”

“Kill? Ghosts can’t kill people, aside from, like scaring them to death,” Ichigo scoffed. “I mean, folklorically speaking. As we established earlier, I am not a ghost-believer.”

Inoue tipped her head to the side. “They do, actually, it just tends to get blamed on something else.”

“By ghost-non-believers.”

“By everyone, really, and that’s what’s so strange.” Inoue pulled a fat binder from a stack of seemingly identical ones, and tossed it open in front of Ichigo. “Edison, New Jersey, 2014. An elderly woman dies ‘of a broken heart’ a week after her husband dies of cancer. Coincidentally, a telephone pole falls on her house the same night and rips a hole in her house.” She turned a page. “Norfolk, Virginia, 2017. A young woman dies in what the police rule as a suicide, despite the fact that she made a 911 call 48 hours previous, expressing fear of her ex-boyfriend. Three days later, the boyfriend is dead of mysterious causes. Coincidentally, his apartment complex suffered significant damages from ‘a wild cougar.’”

Ichigo squinted at the pictures. The walls of the building were scored with what did appear to be scratch marks. “Hell of a cougar.”

“Exactly! And I’ve got dozens of these historic cases. But about four months ago, I was able to investigate one myself-- a young man named Joe Wallace. He lives here in the city, over near Dupont Circle. Wallace had cut off his toxic dad years ago, and refused to visit him in the hospital as he was dying. Four days after his father’s death, a truck crashes into his house in the middle of the night and then drives away before the police can arrive.”

“And he died.”

“No!” Inoue held up one finger. “Scratches and bruises, but he doesn’t die!”

“Okay, great. So what does he remember?”

“He remembers a truck crashing into his house.”

Ichigo scratched his chin. “I am confused.”

“Look at this!” Inoue stabbed a finger at the pictures. “These are claw marks, not vehicular wreckage! There’s damage on the second story window! Wallace had scratches and defensive wounds, as if he had been fending off an animal! And look here, at the damage to the walls of the bedroom!”

“What am I looking at?” Ichigo asked, squinting at a photograph that looked like it had been blown up past the point of recognition.

“There were cuts and slashes in the walls and bedding as though someone had been fighting with a sword.”

“Like a Medieval Times sword? Was the guy a Medieval Times enthusiast?”

“More consistent with a katana. Do you like Medieval Times?”

“No one likes Medieval Times.”

“I like Medieval Times. You’ve probably never even been. But back to the ghost! Why would Wallace remember a truck crashing into his house, when nothing about the scene is consistent with that story?”

“He was...lying?”

“His memories were replaced.”

“His memories were replaced,” Ichigo echoed.

“Yes.”

“By… aliens?”

Orihime heaved a deep sigh. “By a grim reaper.”

“A grim reaper with a samurai sword.”

“How on earth did you come to this conclusion?”

Inoue raised one eyebrow. “Because when I placed him under hypnosis, Wallace didn’t remember anything about a truck. He did remember a monster with batwings and a mask made of bone and his dead father’s voice who tried to kill him, except that he was saved by a tall man dressed in black. The man had bright red hair and fought the monster with a sword that was also a whip and then he wiped Wallace’s memories.”

Ichigo stared at her. “You can hypnotize people?”

Inoue gave him a long-suffering face. Ichigo had the sudden flash that he was going to be seeing that face a lot in the days to come. “Yes, I am a certified hypnotist.” Inoue’s phone suddenly started playing “Tubular Bells”. “Oops, that’s an alarm. Come on, we have a meeting with some important people. Do you like diners?”

  👻     👻     👻

Agent Inoue apparently did not care for public transit, but she walked very quickly. Ichigo was concentrating so hard on keeping up with her that he nearly collided with her back when she stopped very suddenly.

“You don’t mind if we make a quick stop, do we?” Inoue asked.

“You said the meeting was with important people.”

“Oh, don’t worry about them!” Inoue pursed her lips. “You see that bodega right there?”

They were in a part of downtown that was mostly mid-to-upscale restaurants and government buildings and FedExes. But sure enough, there was a dingy little bodega nestled between a Mexican-Indian fusion place and an Au Bon Pain, the windows stuffed with t-shirts from the last administration and a variety of cell phone chargers. The overhead sign read “Urahara Shop.”

“Y...eah…” Ichigo replied.

“That place is a hotbed of supernatural activity.”

“Is it?” Ichigo asked.

“I am almost positive that it is a supply point and meeting place for grim reapers, monster slayers, cryptids, alien hunters, and lycanthropes, but the owner is on to me.”

“I see,” Ichigo said levelly.

“Can you go in and pretend to be a customer? They have lots of good candy you can look through. Inoue dug in her purse and came up with a fiver. “Here. Buy a scratch ticket or something.”

“I’m not buying a scratch ticket, they’re a scam.”

“If the big guy is working the counter, he’ll glare at you until you buy something, so be prepared.”

As Ichigo pushed open the door, he realized he’d never actually agreed to any of this. Agent Inoue’s secret hypnosis powers, once again. Whatever. It was a bodega, there were a thousand of them in DC. They all had the same Nats t-shirts and coffee mugs with pictures of the Washington Monument on them. Ichigo pretended to be interested in a rack of comics. He tended to prefer indy comics over the big publishers himself, but even so, he didn’t recognize any of the books. Maybe they were by local authors.

Up at the front of the shop, a tiny, dark-haired woman was giving whatfor to the man behind the counter, a tall fellow with pale, straw-colored hair sticking out in tufts from under the saddest hat Ichigo had ever seen, a shapeless, battered bucket, striped green and white.

“Well, I can sell you a new battery for your phone, Miss Kuchiki, maybe that would help.”

“Not if it only lasts as long as the last one you sold me! I really need to get in touch with my partner, except that even if I could get my phone working again, his battery is probably dead because everything you sell is the same crap!”

“Ah, that’s too bad! You know, I think Mr. Abarai was in here a few days ago… I wasn’t in at the time, but Jinta said he came in, asking about…”

The man trailed off, and Ichigo glanced up to see the shopkeeper looking directly at him.

“...metrocards. But as you know, we don’t sell metrocards anymore.”

The woman made an aggravated noise. “You’re so useless! If I write him a damned note, will you give it to him if he comes in?”

“Oh, of course! Anything for you, Miss Kuchiki!”

The conversation trailed off as the woman hunched over the counter to angrily scratch out a note.

Ichigo stuffed the comic he was flipping through back on its rack. He skipped the enormous display of bedazzled flip-flops and started perusing the surprisingly extensive selection of gum.

“Here!” the woman finished and shoved her note at the shopkeeper. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

“Have a wonderful day!” the shopkeeper tootled, giving her a little finger wave.

Ichigo felt bad for the woman. “Er, excuse me?” he said as she passed.

She turned to scowl at him. For such a tiny person, she seemed to contain a remarkable amount of rage.

“Do you need to call someone? You can use my phone, if you’d like.” He held it out like an offering.

The woman blinked at him for a moment.

“I didn’t mean to be nosy! You were just kind of loud and you sounded worried about your, um, partner.”

“I’m not worried about him, I just need to find him.” Her face softened. “Thanks, Mister, but I can’t reach him on a regular phone. Don’t worry, I’ll track him down eventually.” She turned to leave, then stopped to jab an accusatory finger at Ichigo. “And that’s professional partner, not… you know! Whatever!” She stomped out.

What a strange, tiny person.

Ichigo selected a gum and walked up to the counter.

“Oooh, dragonberry lime, good choice!” the man trilled. “Anything else I can get you? Bottled water? Fanny pack? Spare phone battery?”

“I’ll pass,” Ichigo replied dryly.

“I imagine it’s against FBI policy to let a stranger use your cell phone,” the shopkeeper said sweetly.

Ichigo’s brows furrowed. “This is my personal phone. And how did you…?”

The man gave a chortling laugh that sent shivers down Ichigo’s spine. “Because headquarters is three blocks away and only an FBI agent would wear a suit that square.”

Ichigo took his change and his gum and shoved them both in his pocket. “Yeah, well, your hat sucks.”

The man laughed harder. “Doesn’t it, though?”

Once he was outside again, Ichigo handed Inoue the gum and her change. “The owner of that place is a creep.”

“The guy in the green and white hat?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s Urahara. You’re right, he’s the owner. Were there any other customers?”

“Just the short lady. You must have seen her come out. She was ripping Urahara a new one for some dodgy cell phone battery he sold her. I think she must have been NSA or something. She said she was trying to get ahold of her partner, but she needed a special phone.” As he said it, Ichigo realized it would be pretty odd for an NSA agent to be buying cell phone batteries from some shady bodega.

“No one came out,” Inoue replied.

“She definitely did! I heard the bell over the door ring.”

Inoue regarded Ichigo very seriously. “Agent Kurosaki. I was standing here the whole time. You were the only person who went in or out.” She looked at the gum. “Ooh! Dragonfruit lime! Do you want some?”

  👻     👻     👻

They were late to the meeting.

Two men were waiting for them in the back corner booth. One of them had pinched, pointy features and piercing blue eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. His chin-length haircut was pretty dramatic, but not as dramatic as his pure white trench coat. A cup of black coffee sat on the faded Formica table in front of him, but it didn’t look like it had been touched.

His companion was an enormous, good-looking Latino who was shoveling pancakes into his face.

“Inoue,” the dramatic guy said. “Who’s this?”

“This is my new partner, Kurosaki,” Inoue replied. “Kurosaki, this is Uryuu Ishida,” she indicated the white trenchcoat guy, “and Chad,” Mr. Pancakes.

“Also known as the ‘Lone Archers,’” Ishida specified. “We are apolitical actors who are interested in revealing the truths that are regularly hidden from the general populace by secret forces that conspire within the machinery of the American government.”

“You can just call me Chad,” said Chad.

“Good morning!” the waitress said. “Can I get you folks anything?”

“Oh, yes! I’m getting mozzarella sticks! Do you like mozzarella sticks, Kurosaki? They’re so good here!”

“So’re the pancakes,” added Chad.

“I’ll just have a coffee,” Ichigo announced. He glanced at Ishida’s cup. “Black.”

“Double mozzarella sticks, please!” Inoue chorused. “And a cherry coke!” She leaned over to Ichigo and spoke out of the side of her mouth. “I’ll give you a mozzarella stick.”

“Do you want some pancake?” Chad offered to Ishida. “I never think to offer.”

Ishida waved him off with a hand. “Agent Inoue. At great personal peril, I was able to obtain a sample of the item we discussed.” He slid a small paper packet across the table. “There are two tablets inside, but one should be sufficient for your purposes.” Ishida leaned forward, his mouth set in a firm line. “I was cautioned very strongly against using this, unless one had a firm plan for handling the… consequences.”

“I understand,” Inoue replied, stuffing the envelope into her purse.

Ichigo wanted to ask more questions, but the conversation shifted very quickly to some USGS floodplain maps that Ishida wanted Inoue to obtain for him that were apparently not available from the public webportals, allegedly because of filesize. Ichigo could practically hear the air quotes around the word “filesize.”

“We’re going to look for Jersey Devils next weekend,” Chad explained, sounding pretty excited about it.

“There’s only one, Chad,” Ishida corrected. “It’s just ‘Jersey Devil.’”

“There could be more than one,” Chad shrugged.

Thirty minutes later, they departed. Inoue had an order of mozzarella sticks in her purse. Ichigo had an armload of backissues of the Lone Archers’ ‘zine, which was, conveniently enough, titled The Lone Archer. There was no doubt in his mind that at least Ishida was completely off his rocker. The jury was still out on Chad… he struck Ichigo as the sort of guy who just went along with Ishida’s nonsense because he was a good friend and also liked taking camping trips and doing layout for ‘zines.

“So what was that thing they gave you?” Ichigo pestered. The idea of that little paper packet had been burning a hole in his brain the entire time.

“You busy tonight?” Inoue asked, raising an eyebrow slyly. “Between 10 and 11?”

“What are we doing?” Ichigo asked cautiously, wondering if he would be able to charge his time.

“We’re going to try and attract an angry ghost.”

  👻     👻     👻

“Are you… sure this is… a good idea?” Ichigo asked for the sixteenth time, as Inoue focused the thermal camera on him.

They were in an old, abandoned lot that had formerly served as a Metro service facility. It was pretty spooky all on its own, filled with train cars too dilapidated for salvage.

It was 10:25pm. Inoue had set up no less than 17 different pieces of ghost detection equipment. Ichigo was questioning his life choices.

“You told me you don’t believe in ghosts. If ghosts don’t exist, then what could possibly go wrong?” Inoue posed.

“Well… that’s true,” Ichigo granted. “And, for the record, I still do not believe in ghosts. But in the Pascal’s wager sense of things, I am considering the ramifications of what happens if there are ghosts that exist, regardless of my belief in them.”

“And?” Inoue asked.

“Well, you said that these ghosts have hurt and killed people before. It seems like trying to attract one without having any method of, um, fighting it, seems kind of… irresponsible?”

“Ah, but you see, I’ve specifically picked this time and location to coincide with the grim reaper patrol routes I’ve been mapping out. Our friendly neighborhood psychopomp ought to show up just on schedule to fight the angry ghost for us. We’re doing them a favor, as I see it.”

“How so?” Ichigo exclaimed.

“It’s not like we’re creating an angry ghost out of nowhere. We’re just attracting an existing one to our location. We’re saving the grim reaper the trouble of having to hunt it down.”

Ichigo pinched the bridge of his nose. Why was it so difficult to argue with Inoue? Possibly because she was so incredibly earnest in all her beliefs, and all her arguments were in completely good faith, it’s just that her logic came from some other dimension. This woman has solved multiple, high-profile murders, including several that were ice cold, Ichigo reminded himself. So she’s quirky. I am sure I can learn a lot from her.

“Okay, everything is in place!” Inoue announced, placing her hand on her hips. “Go hide behind that pile of moldy seats!”

Inoue took Ichigo’s place at the center of her recording equipment. “Agent Orihime Inoue speaking,” she said, for posterity. “It is 10:28pm. I am crushing one tablet of a substance called ‘Hollow Bait.’” She crunched the little white tablet, which looked an awful lot like an Alka-Seltzer, between her fingers, and then made a flying leap for the rotting pile of damp, orange upholstery that Ichigo was crouched behind.

“So, just out of curiosity,” Ichigo started. “How long would we have to wait, theoretically, with nothing happening, before we would declare this a bust?”

Inoue pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Usually, I would give it about two hours, but if you’ve got somewhere to be, I don’t mind if you leave early. It is nice to have company for a change.”

“No, I don’t have anywhere else to be,” Ichigo replied. “I mean… sleeping, I guess.”

Inoue gave a charming little laugh. “I don’t sleep very well. And hunting for ghosts is more interesting than most of the stuff on Hulu.”

The way that she said it gave Ichigo the distinct impression that Inoue was, well, lonely. But that didn’t seem correct. She was weird, sure, but she was also friendly and talkative, and, er, well, she was extremely cute. Surely she had tons of friends.

“How’d you get into ghost hunting, anyway?” he tried to be conversational.

“Hmm,” Inoue hummed noncommittally. “Let’s just say there was an incident in my teen years, where my memories don’t match up to the property damage.”

Oh. Ichigo wondered if he should apologize, when suddenly, a cold chill ran down his spine and a sound like a roar echoed in his ears, except he didn’t actually hear anything. “Did you hear that?” he gasped.

“It’s the EMF detector,” Inoue nodded, scrambling for the reader and Ichigo realized he could hear a faint beeping.

“No, not the beeping, it was like a… a… scream…”

“You heard a scream?”

“I didn’t exactly…” Ichigo trailed off as he heard two more, coming from different directions. “There’s more than one. Monster screams. Not human screams.”

Inoue stared at him, eyes wide. “I don’t hear anything. Have you ever been tested for latent psychic ability?”

There was a sudden change in the air pressure, and a fetid, rotting smell, even worse than the Metro seats. Ichigo grabbed Inoue by the shoulders and rolled out of the way, just as the pile of junk they had been crouched behind compacted like it had been through a car crusher. Or smashed by a giant foot.

“Whoa!” Inoue exclaimed, trying to push Ichigo off of her so she could see what was going on.

Ichigo blinked through the night. He couldn’t see anything, but there was an area of space that looked thick and hazy, like it wasn’t refracting the harsh glow of the sodium street lights quite correctly.

“We have to get out of here,” Ichigo gasped.

“Can you see it?” Inoue asked, her eyes wide and excited.

“Not-- not really,” Ichigo replied, pulling at her arm. The air blurred, and Ichigo had the sense the thing was jumping at them. He could tell it was fast, but he couldn’t see it, he didn’t know what to--

“Howl, Zabimaru!”

It was both there and not quite there, a liquid blade made of glass and starlight, that snapped through the air at the invisible thing. The monster bellowed, and whipped around, charging at a dark figure standing atop one of the old Metro cars.

“Pick on someone your own size, ugly!” the man bellowed, and as Ichigo squinted, he realized that their savior was dressed all in black. He was tall, and his hair was pulled back in a spiky ponytail. It was bright red. He was also wearing sunglasses, even though it was the middle of the night. They were pushed up on top of his head, to be fair, but Ichigo had a feeling this detail would stick with him.

“You can see that guy, right?” Ichigo asked Inoue desperately. “The guy who’s fighting the ghost? The guy that looks just like the guy in your report?”

“There’s a guy?” Inoue asked. “No. Where is he? Can you usually see ghosts?”

“I don’t even believe in ghosts!”

“Well, maybe you don’t believe in them because you can see them and you don’t want to, did you ever think of that?”

“I don’t think now is the time to interrogate my personal traumas!”

Suddenly, there was another drop in pressure, and Ichigo had the sense of heavy breathing and sharp teeth. “Inoue. I think there’s another one.”

“Well, can you get the guy to come fight this one, too?”

“He seems busy,” Ichigo squeaked.

Something black flashed by his vision, and there was a loud crack and a sound of something screeching in pain. A second dark-clad person had arrived, landing softly on sandaled feet. There was the same unreality to her, a sense that she wasn’t entirely there, as well as a certain familiarity that Ichigo couldn’t place. Her sword was bright in the darkness, like moonlight reflecting on snow.

“Oi, there you are, you big dummy!” she shouted at the first man and Ichigo realized with a jolt that it was the angry woman from the bodega. “I’ve been looking for you for four days!”

“I had a problem with my gigai and maybe you should check your texts once in a while!” the tall guy shouted back. Ichigo refused to think of him as a grim reaper. A grim reaper would not wear sunglasses.

“My phone died!”

“Can we-- ow! -- discuss this later? I’m glad you’re okay, I missed you. Why are there so many Hollows in this train yard?”

“You’re such a sap! And the Hollows are here because some stupid humans got ahold of some Hollow bait.” The woman turned, and glared at Ichigo. Her eyes burned with blue flame, like the burner of a gas stove.

That would have been the last thing Ichigo remembered, if he had actually remembered it, or any of the things that came before it.

  👻     👻     👻

Ichigo was sitting at his desk.

Inoue was sitting at her desk.

The sun was streaming in the window. The clock on Ichigo’s phone read 7:12am.

Inoue frowned. She examined a coffee cup on her desk. She took a hesitant sip, and then made a face. “Why are we here?” she wondered softly.

“I hate to pull an all-nighter,” Ichigo said, stretching, “but it sure does feel good to be caught up on paperwork!”

Inoue regarded him. “Kurosaki,” she said, “how long have you worked here?”

Ichigo frowned. “Well, I guess this is my second day.”

“Right. So… how much paperwork did you have to catch up on?”

Ichigo blinked. He very distinctively recalled working through the night-- his hand cramping, the incredibly spicy Thai food they’d ordered, Inoue’s seemingly infinite Boy Bands of the 90’s playlist. “I… was helping you, I guess?” Come to think of it, why was he filling out paperwork by hand, anyway? His laptop sat next to him, the lid closed. It wasn’t even plugged in.

Inoue’s fist slammed down onto her desk. “Gosh darnit! They wiped my memories again!!”

[rinharu-purple]

Mr. Love MC’s Choice: Gavin

We fellow producers all have our favorite LI in the game for whom we save our gems and dates, replay their chapters over and over again, sucking our bank accounts dry during the process. And that’s what makes this game so fun! However in my opinion MC’s personal choice is Gavin. I will try to explain it as thoroughly as possible in this post. Obviously they are only my personal opinions at the end of the day so please don’t freak out if you beg to differ ^_^

There are spoilers ahead and this post is a long one, you were warned!

A big, warm hug and grandious thanks to @smallersocksx​ for proof reading so fast and sharing her ideas! <3  </p>

Up until now, I’ve always analyzed ships in subtopics, so this time won’t be any different so I will just dive right into it:

Body Language

The law of attraction between two people in a romantic way has some thumb rules, one of them is that when you like someone then you try to touch them at every opportunity. From all of our LI’s Gavin is by far the one with the most body contact to the MC (The main story only atm, I will come to his dates in a minute ;)). I think the anime speaks for itself, in every single Gavin episode and some of other LI’s episodes (ahem…ep 10 but also ep 11…ahem) Gavin and MC are always in an embrace or a meaningful “hands-on” moment…In the game MC and Gavin are quite often touchy with each other, MC seems to not holding her hands back every time she feels like Gavin’s hurt and reflexively touches him, she is also highly concerned about his hair since every time his hair get messed up by the wind, rain or hormones (swh ;)), MC doesn’t waste any second before correcting his hair. Every reunion they have results in MC reaching out her hands towards Gavin and surprisingly never other way around. Even in a perillious moment in chapter 22 when Gavin goes completely wild and unleashes his “beast-self” the first thing MC wants to do is embrace him. In chapter 24, at the very end among all routes, MC only tells Gavin that she’s missed him and hugs him. Chapter 27...again MC wants to check Gavins body for injuries and tends to them the second they are alone in a closed room. They both yearn for each other’s touch all the way, no matter in which narrative.

If I were to start counting Gavin’s touchy touchy moments on the other hand, then we have to prepare a 4 volumes encyclopedia because that male individual is all about touching MC. Another hint for their closeness is that MC makes notes on Gavin’s scent quite often, mostly related to his jacket or his embrace and while doing it, she always uses adjectives like “clean”, “distinct” or “unique”. Again in ch. 15 she knows its Gavin standing behind her even without looking, because she senses his scent: “A scent that I’d recognize anywhere”. Surely there are many scenes, where MC holds hands with another LI or makes a remark of their scent, but they are not at the intensity or frequency level that of Gavin’s.

       2. The Setting

All four LI’s are representing a certain archetypes women are usually attracted to:

Kiro is a pop idol (target audience 13-15)

Victor is the young successful businessman with a high dominant demeanour and Mr. Grey-ish attitude (target audience 25 upwards or any 50 shades of Grey reader)

Lucien is a young attractive professor with a mysterious and enigmatic vibe (target audience 20-24)

Gavin is the misunderstood bad boy (high school) and later a righteous police officer (16-19 for the bad boy Gavin and 20 upwards for the righteous police officer, special agent, military commander... a pilot?! anything including a uniform fetish)

So, in the game, Elex could take any of these paths and develop it in a way that the chosen path becomes a true love story. I gotta admit, Victor’s story comes at times very close to being one. However, his never-ending bickering and belittling in his 90% of the time cold demeanour just make him lose major points. Plus, MC mostly goes along with Victor’s tone, even though she is a kind and friendly person, she bickers with Victor not because that’s her personality but because that’s the way she can cope with him. If only he were a little bit less domineering.. Which is why I never feel like MC and Victor would belong together irl. 

Seemingly Elex and Mappa take Gavin’s way imo. Because… 

In the main story MC loves all of the LIs in a different way and also has romantic feelings to each one of them to a certain degree, but when we look at it closely and read in between the lines of MC’s thoughts Gavin is a little bit more romantically portrayed than the other guys. 

           a) First of all Gavin had a crush on MC during high school cannonically: Even though Gavin only says that it was a farewell letter, MC says once that she wishes that she could’ve read that “love letter”.  I will stop here with Gavin’s feelings because this post focuses on MC. 

           b) MC, too, was kinda into Gavin during high school because in Episode 18, when she goes to Loveland Hugh during her farewell tour before going with her ultimate sacrifice , she remembers Gavin in intimate things like “watching his athletic body” or “wearing men’s clothes-meaning his-”. Additionally she remembers taking note of his face shining in the sun in the very back of the line during her recital. Even before it all she was specifically interested in him. Her memories with the other LI s are comprised of rather friendly moments like flying kites together but when it comes to Gavin she once again thinks about more intimate elements. Not to mention that the game gives MC a farewell with Gavin. In her final moments she only thinks that for Gavin her grievance would be the hardest. In the End of the Abyss era (ch. 15-18) MC meets all of the LIs after their changes again and reacts to all of them with joy…surely, but only when she sees Gavin hovering above her in the helicopter it is again…drum roll…drama: “The next second I saw a pair of amber eyes…shining like brilliant skies” this girl is always romanticizing Gavin.

“-Can you hear me?

-Can you see me?

-See my heart pounding again at the sight of you?” (so are you saying that your heart wasn’t pounding before? oh ok ;))

Fast forward to CH34 where MC fights Leto for the final time and remembers our guys and again, while she remembers other LIs for their sacrifices and their protection of her, she remembers Gavin's warm arms...

           c)The game takes his time and turns the half of a whole chapter into a date in chapter15 Ep 1-9. There is no other chapter in the game where MC spends time with any of the other LI’s in which there is only the two of them, whereas nothing relevant to the main story happens and they share solely many sweet, romantic and almost hot (when MC tries to dry Gavin’s face in her flat and realizes that she stands way too close to him, she then prepares herself to say something, but gets interrupted by the alarm) and again, MC is getting close to Gavin, not the other way around like Lucien pushing MC against the blackboard, that little sneaky Lucien (actually I could write a post with a masterlist of Lucien’s advances to MC:D).

           d) MC’s premonitions revolve mostly around Gavin (when they are not about the whole world or the black queen). Her dream about the rooftop rescue, her Room 404 dream, her daydream in the office in 6-13 in which Gavin’s suffering and from which she wakes up crying out his name leading to Willow, Kiki and Anna remark on playfully how unfair it is to dream about Gavin and disregarding the other guys. She also sees his future in episode 15 twice! If I am not mistaken, she only sees Victor’s future once in her dream and a vague vision of him in ch 18 but other than that she has no premonitions about Lucien or Kiro. Besides in the anime MC uses her power unintentionally yet instinctively twice while having Gavin in mind in episodes 5 and 8. The third time, she uses her powers in this way is in episode 11 with Victor but he is not her driving force for this but she is driven by the imminent danger they both are in and she doesn’t particularly think about Victor at this moment. In the game it additionally happens in chapter 22 when Gavin is cornered by the mechanical arms and is in a tight spot, this sight makes MC have a surge of rage and to unleash her powers in a great magnitude. Gavin is Queen’s soft spot i.e. More importantly Gavin is a constant part of MC’s future frame. She has her visions about other LI’s past but when it comes to Gavin it’s only his future. MC doesn’t have visions about Gavin’s past, like, ever. While Kiro, Lucien and Victor are stuck in their pasts with MC, Gavin has made peace with his past, is living in the present and looking forward the future (one of his best qualities imo, not being stuck in the past). Ironically, it’s MC, who’s stuck in the past in Gavin’s case. 

       e) I will intentionally not delve much into S2 stuff, but one thing has to be in this post…We know that in S2 MC goes back in time and relives the last 17 years. During these 17 years she makes sure to spend her high school years close to Gavin. So given the chance to rewrite her past, she would choose to make good for the lost years that she regretted dearly in S1 (she gushes out about her regrets in S2 Late Autumn Date in detail). We are yet to find out more about the nature of their relationship during high school, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they had a “will they, won’t they” situation. Since the game wouldn’t put any of the guys in an ex-boyfriend role, that would be the most romantic frame possible.

        3.  How other people see Gavin x MC

f) In CH 36, the one before CH 37, where every LI gets the same intimate moment with MC, only Lucien and Gavin are getting close to kissing her to which MC doesn't show any rejection towards... She is the one accidentally kissing Gavin btw and this is the only time before CH37 that MC either accidentally or willingly kiss any LI on his face or near his lips.

g) In S1, MC only posts two pics with the boys in her moments. One of them is a selfie with Lucien and the second one is with Gavin, hugged from behind. No other LIs ever have a moment with MC. Neither on their accounts, nor on MCs.

It is always a good indicator to look at how other characters perceive a particular ship. For Gavin and MC, it is almost obvious that once they are standing side by side, others see them instantly as a couple. Sure, at the orphanage some children ask Lucien if MC is his girlfriend or that one actress threatens MC to stay away from Victor because he’s hers (btw what happened to her?) With Gavin however, it’s practically a running joke. 

As mentioned above, her once daydream in the office with Gavin shoutout in CH 6-13 drew the attention of her co-workers, leading them to mock her for thinking about him too much even though her dream was rather a nightmare. Besides, Gavin is the one showing up the most in MC’s office and he also lift her up to his shoulders once in the Visiting Hours date and Homer took a pic of that hilarious moment. 

Every time MC is at STF HQ, respectively, Gavin’s co-workers or subordinates too take note of her presence and in chapter 12 they are even caught red-handed by one of the agents as MC is busy “correcting” Gavin’s hair (because see point 1). Eli seems to be aware of the intimacy between the two and even probably assumes that they’ve done the deed, because in ch 12 he is surprised to hear that MC hasn’t seen Gavin’s wound yet. He presumes that she already saw him naked…oh Eli! Season 2 has even more eminent scenes, we just have to wait and see.

In chapter 15 when they deliver Perry to the hospital, they are mistaken to be his parents by the hospital personnel not once but twice! Needless to say, they don’t find it necessary to correct the misunderstanding. I mean Perry is, what, 6…MC 22, Gavin 24 but they automatically think that they must be the parents?! Sure thats common sense- wink wink nudge nudge ¬‿¬ -

In chapter 22 Shaw makes a comment on MC willing to go to where Gavin is  with a “Really, all you do is following him, isn’t it?”. He uses MC to trigger Gavin in Airport date as well.

And of course, there is Minor…The ultimate number one wingman and the most original Gavin-stan! Minor uses everything in his power to bring them together both in the main story and in dates. He even calls her Sis-in-Law in public in CH 35 which MC doesn't reject. This doesn’t even need explanation.

Last but not least:

Their couple chemistry went viral lol.

Visually speaking, when they stand side by side, for me Gavin and MC look the most like a couple (Kiro is too childish and fashion icony compared to MC and Victor is too mature and business attire-ish making him look like her uncle rather than boyfriend, Lucien is the only one besides Gavin who actually suits MC visually). I am not saying that looks are the main indicator btw so don’t lynch me please ^_^

Come to think about it, MCs life is intertwined with that of Gavin's the most. Considering how she knows his father, brother and colleagues and spends so much time in "his world" whether it's at STF or NW. In the main story MC and Gavin have their favorite restaurants (ehm it's never souvenir due to obvious reasons 😉), share the same passion for music, have many common memories from high school and most importantly their world views are very similar. Both are prioritizing others safety over themselves and are compassionate for anyone who is in need. They are both ambitious and hardworking but not to the point of being power driven. Both are humble and finding hapinness in the smallest things. Maybe that's why they say the same things simultaneously or say the things the other would say simultaneously. MC and Gavin are highly compatible and have a harmonious, healthy relationship despite the conspiracy around them.

     4. Anime

Okay okay, listen…Yes, the anime wasn’t the best adaptation and many of us were disappointed by the ending (including me), still, the anime makes a part of canon MLQC universe and no Gavin-stan should complain about the anime because the anime put canonically Gavin on a pedestal. In a total of 12 episodes, all guys had 2 episodes each BUT Gavin was actually blessed with 3 episodes and so many romantic moments to count…let’s count them anyways :)

Mappa introduces all guys in episode 1 so MC encounters them all in the first 25 minutes but she first meets Gavin in episode 2 and the two spend almost the entire time of the episode together, not to mention the extremely romantic first-fly scene in the sunset. As I mentioned in point 1, MC and Gavin are always in physical contact in any given episode. Anime made sure to portray every single interaction they have romantically.

They even went so far to mix Gavin scenes in other guys episodes (he offers her a ride to work in ep 3, she has an emotional moment with him after the first shooting misunderstanding while Lucien is standing right next to her in ep 4, Gavin is the one to catch MC mid-air in ep 10, this episode ends with them in their life and death embrace falling down in dawn… and then he falls on her in ep 11).

When it’s a Gavin episode MC has no romantic scenes with any of the other guys, let alone having any scenes at all. Its only about Gavin in Gavin episodes. Also, the storyline is edited in a way that between MC and Gavin a romantic story develops. Their meet cute conspiracy, their misunderstanding with Lucien, followed by the “drop the senpai” offer and finally that 5 seconds long gaze deeply in the eyes in ep 8 while holding hands.

It is really sad that the anime ruined this development in the final episode but taking into consideration that there might be a second season, they probably chose to make the change in Gavin’s character after the NW project remarkable.

Another point in the anime is  that they kinda exaggerate Gavin’s Evol a little bit. During his stand-off with Lucien Gavin’s bullet cuts through Lucien’s shield and all in ep 8,11 and 12 there is a significant emphasis on the intensity and destructive power of Gavin’s Evol. I mean, whose Evol is the most upfront one in episode 12? We see Lucien using his Evol only twice, both very briefly, Kiro/Helios/Key and Victor even have to use guns to protect themselves and/or MC. Gavin’s shown using a pistole once at the beginning, after that it’s all turbines and tornadoes and just Gavin unleashed. 

I think it’s an exaggeration because in my personal opinion, Lucien is actually the one with the strongest Evol, followed by Victor and then comes Gavin. Lucien’s ability to copy an Evol is simply the strongest trait one could have, sure it comes with the downside that he then doesn’t have enough time and focus to excel in any of those Evols, Victor can literally create black holes are you kidding me?! But because his Evol has its limits it puts him in the second place. But in the anime, Gavin’s Evol is extremely powerful and destructive and they also created some really cool scenes in which Gavin uses his Evol in various styles (accelerating his bullets speed, dodging a bullet, lifting MC in any and every situation, flying- obviously- and sometimes just overpowered destruction).

But in the anime in comparison, Lucien looks like a copy-cat of Evols and Victor like someone who travels through time to find out nothing can change the course of events (on a side note I will never understand why did Mappa toned down Victor so heartlessly, he is a  powerful character and has countless sweet, emotional moments with MC).

        5. Dates

I left dates to the end because they are highly subjective and don’t belong to the main story. NEVERTHELESS, Gavin’s dates include here and there some hints which may indicate that MC tends to like Gavin maybe just a little bit more. I will just add it as bullet points here since I’m pretty sure that the list will be enriched over time.

Slightly drunken date: Shouting out loud in public “Gavin! I’m crazy for you!”

When the Galaxy Falls Date: “...and in that moment, I make an eternal vow in my heart. To give all the blazing love and the most endless warmth to the person in front of me. Standing on my tiptoes, I carry a heart which is filled with courage to move forward, receiving Gavin.”

2 become 1 date “No matter whether the wedding is real or fake I only want to be your bride.”  Here comes the Groom event where MC had a prob wedding with each and every LI but she actually only wanted to be Gavin’s bride (obviously Gavin’s heard her loud and clear since he’s bought a gem/ring right after) and that gem is brought up in…

The Returning from Afar Date - Thank you for silently watching over my mood. Thank you for always returning to my side no matter where you go. The white muslin drifts to and fro. My heart stirs, and I gently touch the muslin in front of me. Sunlight streams in. My fingertips brush the soft white muslin, tracing the word “Gavin” on it. I turn my head to the side, blinking at Gavin a little playfully. “This word - apart from it being your name, it also has another meaning. It’s “courage”. MC getting poetic, but who wouldn’t in that date (thank you @smallersocksx for reminding me and without @cheri-translates we poor Eng-server players would be left in the dark so thank you for translating season 2 for us!!!) but than MC verbally and literally makes her feelings clear in…

Late autumn date (2nd season translation by @cheri-translates) “I close my eyes, holding onto his solid arms. I lift my head to welcome his lips, savouring his unique breath. The person in front of me has shed off the roughness of youth, leaving behind only the purity of youth. He often makes me forget that he once used to be unrestrained like the wind. He has a body that is stronger than everyone else’s, a tough soul, a will that is as firm as steel, and a heart full of tenderness – it is soft beyond compare. 

I cling to his waist tightly using my calves, wanting to brand every part of him into my heart. 

“I want to bear his everything.” 

Gavin: “Do you like it?”

“I like it…I like it very much…I like it so much that I don’t know how to prove how much I like it” “The rest of my life is yours, The years that we’ve missed out on are also yours” (whatever I have, I will give it to you. I will give everything to you, leaving nothing behind)

I rest my case