#which is good just not what i expected i guess

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 9

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 8 | Series Masterlist | Part 10

Chapter Summary: Bucky takes you home, but will he keep his hands to himself?

Chapter Word Count: Over 3.7k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, tension, dirty talk, unease, possessiveness, inner turmoil, slight feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight and thank you for your patience! Hope you lovelies continue to enjoy. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You thought you heard the men wish you well once more when Bucky led you out of the office. You weren’t completely sure since you tried to block everything out, but attempting to disassociate wouldn’t exactly do you any good. The night wasn’t over yet and you had to stay sharp. You didn’t know what Bucky had planned for when he got you home. Were you prepared at all?

Not in the least.

You half expected to walk back through the front of the club to leave, but Ray directed you to a door near the back once he gave Bucky a nod. The car was waiting in the alley and you took a moment to glance up at the sky. You could only make out one star and you wished in that moment you could grow wings and fly away. But when did wishing upon a star do you any good?

“Let’s get you back to your place,” Bucky said, helping you into the car.

You had to give him credit for trying to keep up his end of the bargain by getting you home on time. Your body refused to relax though once he sat beside you and took your hand. Was he trying to get you accustomed to his touch? Make you crave him? It bothered you that in spite of your determination he drew you in to a certain degree. But you wouldn’t let him take you to bed tonight. You weren’t ready to cross that inevitable line.

Maybe, just maybe, if your performance in bed disappointed him, he’d get bored and walk away. The thought almost made you laugh. That wasn’t happening. If anything, he’d probably love teaching you how to be his perfect lover.

“I think tonight went well,” Bucky smiled.

“Which part exactly?” You mumbled, pulling your hand away. The part where he forced you to go, how his men all but admitted they knew Bucky stalked you, or how they beat the hell out of a man?

“Just the night in general. I knew everyone would love you, but I really think Thor wants to be your big brother now,” Bucky replied. You wanted it so badly to be endearing, but Thor was dangerous. He mentioned a father-in-law. How exactly did he find his wife? And bringing up the flower donations to the hospital. Bucky seemed upset. Why? “Which he’ll have to fight Steve for.”

“Fighting. You guys seem to excel in that arena,” you said, remembering how they all took turns beating up John. “But I guess Steve does have a bit of that ‘big brother’ vibe, helping you take total control of my life and whatnot.”

“Not total control. I’m still letting you work, but maybe I can buy the shop.” He chuckled at your thunderous expression. The light threat had you seeing red. “I probably shouldn't joke about that, should I?”

“Letting me work? Like it’s your decision? And don’t you dare buy the shop.” You pushed at him to keep from slapping him when he chuckled again. Not with enough force to get him far away from you, but you needed some sort of space in the vehicle. He also needed a good hit over the head. “You’re a bully, do you know that? So are your friends.”

His laughter died off quickly when he reached out and gently took your hand again, prying your fingers away from your palm. You didn’t notice it stung from your nails until he brought your hand to his mouth and kissed it. “You think we’re bullies?” He asked against your skin.

“Yes. Besides nearly beating that jerk to death, you do realize that you use force and threats to dominate and intimidate. That’s a form of bullying, Bucky,” you said. Was he deliberately being obtuse or was he lost in his delusion that this was all normal?

“I wouldn’t say we’re bullies. I call it protecting and keeping what’s mine,” he said. There was no shame on his end.

“Right. Because I’m a possession and not a person,” you said, your face scrunching up as you tried not to cry. You needed rest. If part of Bucky’s plan was to wear you down by overwhelming you, mission accomplished. “I’m so tired. I just want to go to bed.”

“You’re a person, not a possession, Kotyonok. And not just a person, a good person who gives so much of herself to others. And probably one of the only people who rightfully calls me out on my shit.” His response drew you up short. “Outside of my friends, no one else does that.”

“Maybe because they’re afraid of you and what you can do,” you said after a moment. Fear could make anyone say what they thought people wanted to hear. “Either that or they want your approval,” you added, which you could also understand to a point. People wanted a sense of belonging, especially with those who had influence and power.

“Maybe they are afraid,” he agreed, brushing his lips against your palm again with a sigh. “What is it about me that scares you most?”

“I’m not really sure exactly,” you admitted. There was so much about the situation that terrified you. What he was capable of. How he inserted himself into various aspects of your life and so quickly. How far he was willing to go to keep you. “But I think it’s your conviction. That you’re so sure that I’m your other half and no one can convince you otherwise, not even me.”

You could scream until your lungs gave out that you didn’t belong with him and you knew in your heart he’d argue until his last breath that you did. He was steadfast in that belief that you were soulmates. That conviction was so strong that what you really feared was that he would somehow convince you that he was right: that you belonged together.

Those steel blue eyes of his met yours and mesmerized you for a heartbeat before you looked away. “Love is scary. It’s natural to be afraid of it.” His lips brushed your ear, making you shiver. “But giving someone the most fragile parts of yourself is one of the bravest things a person can do.”

There was truth in his words, but it felt like he moved another chess piece into place. He was trying to disarm you and you couldn’t let him. “Who painted that black dahlia in your office?” You asked suddenly, feeling him move back enough that you could turn your head toward him. “And why display that flower?” You didn’t believe for a second that he chose it for aesthetic purposes.

“Beautiful, isn't it? Steve painted it,” he replied with an odd mixture of affection and bitterness. “It’s for my parents.”

“Steve is a gifted artist.” You hoped your voice stayed even enough that Bucky wouldn’t get jealous of you complimenting another man’s talent. “I don't know if the symbolism of flowers mean anything to you, but the black dahlia-”

“Betrayal. Sadness. Darkness,” he ticked off, his voice cold enough that another shiver moved through your body. “It was the last flower my dad ever got my mom and it serves as a reminder.”

You swallowed as warning bells sounded in your mind to tread carefully. “And what's that?”

He moved close, your eyes shutting as his hand wrapped around the nape of your neck. “That I'll never do to you what he did to her.”

There was suppressed rage within him. Sorrow. It rolled off him in waves strong enough that they could drown you. He said earlier that his dad got what he deserved. What had he done to his mom?

“You’re in pain,” you whispered. He was hurting and you logically shouldn’t care. So why did you want to know the cause of that hurt? “You have to tell me why.”

It wasn’t for you to use to your advantage. You weren’t sure if you could manipulate someone else. If you knew what happened though, it would at least give you more answers to who Bucky was and why he was the way he was. It could help you gain some sort of understanding.

“I’m not in pain when I’m with you,” he whispered, bringing your hand on his chest. Was he relying on you to chase away whatever haunted him? “Later. I’ve overwhelmed you enough for one evening.”

You let out a breath. You swore he was doing this on purpose, giving you just enough information that you’d wait around until he gave you more. “I can’t argue with you there,” you said, his heart racing under your touch. “Just answer one thing for me, please.”

“What’s that?”

“Marc from the bookstore,” you began, the man’s kind face shimmering in your mind. “Did anything happen to him?”

“I’d question another man being on your mind, but I know you’re just concerned about his well-being.” An easy smile crossed Bucky’s face as you bit your tongue. You could think about anyone you wanted to. “I can’t speak for him right this second, but he was perfectly fine when you and I left. He was just having a chat with one of my associates.”

You exhaled, thankful Marc wasn't hurt. “What kind of chat?” You asked. He was a nice guy, though he did seem to know a bit about Bucky. What exactly was he involved in?

“He just got a warning to be careful about what he does or doesn’t say to his customers.” You tensed before he kissed your forehead. Did he know about the conversation you two had? “And I don’t think the two of you should be alone with each other in the bookstore going forward.”

Just when Bucky had you feeling some sort of sympathy for him moments ago he shocked you right out of it. “Another decision that isn’t yours to make,” you stated, the car coming to a stop. “And you really don’t have to walk me up. I think we’ve had enough of each other’s company tonight.”

“I said I’m tucking you into bed and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” The smile he gave you was nothing short of cocky when he added, “And you owe me a photo. I’m going to get it.”

He was a dog with a bone. He wouldn’t let that go. “Why don’t you just take a photo of me giving you the finger?” You suggested as he helped you out of the car.

“Only if you do it with a smile. I’ll even set it as the background on my phone,” he winked. Your reluctance and defiance of him didn’t phase him in the slightest. “And if you give me the finger, I’ll take it as an invitation that you want to fuck me.”

“Let’s go, please.”

You said nothing else as you went into the building, your anxiety mounting by the second. The slow rise of the elevator didn’t help, Bucky’s hip pressed against yours like he couldn’t stand to have space between you. You figure he’d shove you against the wall and claim your mouth, but he didn’t make a move. It impressed you that he behaved until you got to your floor. It didn’t stop your hand from shaking when you got your keys out.

“Still don’t want to say good night now?”

“I don’t want to say good night at all,” he answered, following you into the apartment and turning on the light. The welcoming feeling you expected when you got home wasn't there. There was a chill in the usual warmth.

“Well, you’ll have to sooner or later,” you said, swallowing when you faced Bucky. He shut the door and watched intently as you set your keys and bag down. You were quiet as you stared back, tension thick as you tried to predict what he was going to do. Once again, he managed to hold all the power in your home.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” He asked, heat and hunger in his stare as he slowly advanced.

Your throat went dry as you stepped back. “You have.”

“So beautiful and so good.” You made another move to retreat when he stepped forward, his manner confident and compelling as he reached out and prevented you from moving back further. “It’s driving me crazy not having you yet.”

“Please, you don’t…” you trailed off when he sank to his knees, unexpected heat flowing from your core. He guided one of your hands to his shoulder to brace yourself, his eyes soft as he helped remove one of your shoes. You found it difficult to breathe as he removed the other, his hand brushing your ankle with infinite tenderness. Like it was an honor to touch and be on his knees for you.

“I know the first time I taste you I’ll never want to stop. I’ll have to wake up every day between your thighs. Fall asleep that way, too.” His hand slid up your calf and his eyes darkened when your other hand found its way to his thick locks. Wetness gathered between your legs when his touch moved to your thigh. “Your pussy is hungry for me, isn’t it? My fingers, my tongue, my cock. I’ll feed her well.”

His voice was like velvet. Seductive. Aching. “Bucky…” Your breath rushed out swiftly when he kissed your mound through your clothes, tormenting you with arousal you didn’t ask for. It frightened you.

“I can smell you,” he murmured, nosing along where his lips had been before he sat back. “Smell so fucking good.”

Moving your shoes out of the way, he rose to his full height again as you willed your legs not to shake. You weren’t used to anyone looking at you, let alone speak to you, the way he did. Stark desire. Possessiveness. His form of love. Your heart pounded and you refused to answer him or glance down. If you looked at the front of his pants…

He took your hand and pulled you in the direction of the bedroom. Your heart pounded with mounting speed, your heels digging into the floor. “You still haven't kissed me,” you blurted out, hoping it would prevent him from taking you to bed. Or would he take that as an invitation to kiss your lips?

“No, I haven't.” You tried to keep some distance between you as he went to your bed, his hand moving along the blanket. You couldn't breathe. “It scares you how much your body wants mine, doesn’t it?”

“Is that what you think?” You asked, forcing air back into your lungs. It did scare you. It also scared you that you didn’t push him away or scream when he dropped to his knees to remove your shoes. Where was your fighting instinct?

“It is what I think.” The ease in which he moved away from the bed to your dresser to find your pajamas frightened you, too. Like he belonged in your room. You thought back to the night he broke in and left your gift on your bed. How much time did he take to look around? “Like love, giving your body to someone can be scary. You have to trust that you won't get hurt when you’re physically vulnerable.”

“You swore you wouldn't hurt me,” you reminded him.

“And I won't. But you know what else I think?” His magnetic gaze stayed on you as he brought a nightgown over. “That no guy has ever really taken care of you and you’re apprehensive to let me try.”

If you were apprehensive, it was because he was a walking red flag. “What makes you…” Your words stopped when he grasped the bottom of your shirt and pulled it up. Your arms instinctively went up before you realized what you were doing. Removing your shirt, you didn’t get a chance to cover your breasts before he slipped the nightgown on you.

“Your past boyfriends never did anything for you. Emotionally, physically,” he stated, sliding his hands under the nightgown to your hips. Grasping the hem of your pants, he pushed them down as far as he could. “I’ll bet they didn’t even buy you flowers and used the excuse that they didn’t because you’re a florist.”

The words were tiny cuts on old wounds, but you wouldn't give him the satisfaction. “And you will?”

“I will. I’ll give you the life and love you deserve, making you forget any other man out there existed before me.” His eyes raked over you as you stepped out of your pants, your panties still soaked. “But I’m not gonna fuck you.”

Exhaling slowly, relief flooded you. Though you couldn’t help but wonder why he wasn’t trying to take what he wanted. “You won’t?”

“Not tonight.” He shook his head even as his fingers moved along your waist. “Like I said, I’ve overwhelmed you enough. Sleeping with you might really put you over the edge.”

“Thanks.” He desired you, but continued to hold it at bay for your sake. How long would that last? “I appreciate that.”

“And we both know the moment I take you to bed, you’ll be begging for more.” His voice dropped as he toyed with the soft fabric. “And as much as I want to stay in bed with you all night and morning and give us what we both crave, I still need to get things in place at the penthouse and you need rest. You understand.”

You tried not to smile and failed. He acted as if he was doing you a favor. Cocky bastard. “I guess we’ll just have to suffer until then.” Sarcasm continued to be a good way to deflect.

He exhaled at your light teasing, his body still a bit tense. Being close to you and not having you was probably driving him mad. “Maybe we'll have to have another private call and finish what we started. Give us both some relief.” He turned you toward the door and gave you a light swat on your ass. “Go wash your face and brush your teeth before I change my mind.”

You made it to the bathroom in record time, not having to be told twice. You didn’t want to risk staying there in case he lost his resolve. Looking in the mirror as you went through the rest of your nighttime routine, you expected to look more exhausted from the whirlwind of the day. You somehow looked wide awake. Was the experience giving you thicker skin? Or did his desire for you somehow give you a bit of a twisted spark? You’d still be billing him for your future therapy bills either way.

A couple of deep breaths and you made your way back to your bedroom. You paused when you saw Bucky holding a framed photo of you and your friends, longing in his eyes when he lifted his gaze. “You look so happy,” he murmured, carefully setting the frame down on the nightstand before he pulled the blankets back for you. “Can you do me one favor and I’ll go?”

“I was happy. It was a fun day.” You slipped into bed when he gave you space to do so, but his body was still close to yours. Firm. Hard. He really could pin you down and do what he wanted if he wished. “What’s the favor?”

He tucked the blanket around you, his hair falling into his face. You almost reached up to brush it back, but refrained. Who knew what your touch would do? “Look at me like you love me. Please.”

You stiffened as you stared up at his face, your heart simultaneously racing and breaking for him. Love was something that provided a sense of connection, fulfillment. It was a way to show you that you weren’t alone in the world. You wanted to believe you were worthy of love, that you could build a life with someone. Bucky believed he was that someone.

Why?

You weren’t sure if it was his yearning gaze or if you were ready for the night to end, but your expression softened as you imagined meeting him in another life. Going on fun dates, talking about books, making each other laugh as you cooked together, snuggling under a blanket as you talked about your future. You found yourself smiling at the images that went through your mind. What could’ve been. What could be if he lessened his hold a bit on you.

He audibly exhaled when he snapped a photo on his phone, making you blink. “Thank you. Now I can look at this whenever I’m not near you and need to feel your love.”

Words escaped you, the invisible collar around your throat getting tighter. You could only nod and wonder how you kept throwing fuel on the fire of his want for you. Which one of you would burn first?

“Get some sleep. Dream sweet dreams.” You felt featherlight kisses on each eyelid when you shut them. “You know, I’ll sleep a lot easier once you’re in my bed.”

“If you get me into your bed,” you mumbled, refusing to look at him.

“Stubborn kitten.” He chuckled and gave each eyelid one more kiss. Why were his lips so soft? “Maybe I’ll stop by the shop tomorrow so I can take you to lunch. You can tell Addison all about it.”

“Maybe.” You yawned and snuggled more into your pillows. “Good night, Bucky.”

A finger moved along your cheek before it stopped abruptly. “Good night, Kotyonok.”

Bucky still hadn't kissed your mouth.

You didn’t open your eyes as he left, but you didn’t fall asleep right away either. Your body was too wound up. Too many questions went through your mind. Like what happened with his parents and how exactly he’d move you out of your place.

The man was a step ahead in everything. You’d be in his penthouse before the month was over. He’d get his way, but maybe it didn't have to be his way completely. He could give you an area in the place for you and you alone. It wouldn’t hurt to ask. After all, he did say he’d make it up to you by dragging you out tonight.

And if he cared the way he said he did, he could give you that one small thing.

Is our poor Kotyonok starting to accept the inevitable? Will Bucky stop by the shop? And how much longer until he really takes you to bed?Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[u5an5]

Just watched Deadpool & Wolverine with polish subs based on dub and I have to be honest, there's much more funny stuff than I expected, considering that the rest of it made me glad I'm not watching it with actual dub

So, things that picked my interest:

Instead "207 when I watch Gossip Girl" he straight up says "207 when I watch porn" (Gossip Girl isn't especialy popular show here so reference wouldn't mean anything for majority of audience anyway, but to straight up say it instead replacing it?)

"Ok peanut, 'guess we're getting that team-up after all" got replaced with "Okej ptysiu, nie ma to jak seks grupowy", which translates to "Okay cutiepie, nothing better than group sex" (??? we're still in the first 5 minutes of the movie)

"you know what they say, when one door closes, your locker at work opens" translated to "Jak to mówią… Jak zamykają od przodu, to ładujesz się od tyłu" which translates roughly to "Like they say... when they close the front, you get in the behind" which I find kinda funny

Peters line about seeing Wade in suit comes of gayish cause he doesn't say he wants to see him in the suit again, he wants to LOOK at him in it again, you know what I mean

intead "This guy looks ready to throw it all away for me" he says "This cutie would gladly get hugged by my bowels" which is a lot more straightforward than I expected

Wades spiel to comic acurate height Wolverine is much more insulting and instead being all "what a cwute short king you awe" translates to "Oh fuck, a furball dwarf? Was there even dwarf like that? Furballs mommy drank lots of booze when she was pregnant? Maybe daddy was a ratferret? Don't even come near me, 'cause you surely have ticks"

"I need you to come with me, right now" to "Zapraszam cię na randke, i to natychmiast" meaning "I invite you to a date, and I mean right now" (Logan replies with "Złotko, nie kręci mnie to" which translates to "Sweetie, I'm not diggin' it" and by "it" I'm honestly not sure if he means Wade himself, the fact that Wade said he's only here because he's the Wolverine just a second ago, or because his suit looks like fetish gear)

"It's quite common to Wolverines after 40" to "It's normal when going trough menopause, I get it"

they replaced "peanut" to different endearments to not be repetive but the most often used one is "ptysiu" (ptyś is a choux pastry; if I had to translate it as english endearment, I'd go with cutiepie). its cute imo

Logans "bub" also got replaced by endearments/insults losely fitting situation but the stupidest one has to be Logan calling Johnny "misiu", which translates to "little bear" and let me tell you, it's HILARIOUS cause it's equvalent of calling a random guy "sweetie" but in the "your grandma asking if you want seconds (yes you do, no you don't have any say)" way

"my boy's wicked strong" is translated to "mój chłopak zna się na rzeczy". It's slightly like the papi situation from spanish dub cause yes, "chłopak"'s direct translation is often "boyfriend" but it is also used as "boy", "guy" or "dude", usualy towards guys younger/about the same age as you. However, the addition of "mój"/"mine, my" makes it much more angled towards boyfriend, wherever they wanted to or not. There are at least three different ways to translate it and make it less gae I know and the've still chosen this one.

They made, in my opinion, the "its a common curtesy to ask" "Its good thing I don't give a fuck" lines better by translating them to "you shoud've ask, thats polite thing to do" "and you can politely fuck off"

they replaced Star Trek reference with Star Wars one, using Han Solo instead Spock and idk. on one hand they did it to THE spirk moment but on the other they made, and I may be reaching, but it seems like covert reference to "I know" scene so ??? (star trek is nowewhere near as known as star wars here so they would probs replace it either way but it also can be just "star trek and star wars sound so much alike, they have to be basically the same, right?" haha joke)

them instead innuendos using the most over the top forms of insult that no one ever heard is kinda funny but only because I only had to read them; if I ever heard somone call somebody "kutasina" irl I would find a way for at least one of us to not be able to hear anything ever again ("cockleter" is my best attempt to recreate this horseshit)

If you guys want to share some treasures from your native dubs/subs, feel free to

[fairyhaos]

◈ love of my life // yoon jeonghan

jeonghan x gn!reader, 2k+ words

tags: technically requested by lots of people bc everyone wants jeonghan fluff, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, crack, mutual pining, almost-confessions

warnings: light swearing

summary: in which your relationship with jeonghan isn't exactly platonic and isn't exactly romantic... but rather, it's a secret third thing.

It has to be at least two in the morning when Jeonghan's ringtone blares throughout his bedroom, and he rolls over with a groan, grappling blindly at his nightstand before finding his phone and pressing it against his cheek. 

“Who is this and what do you want?”

“Jeonghan, let's go on a date.”

He recognises your voice in an instant, even in his half-asleep state, and he huffs a laugh, flopping back against the pillows and rubbing his eyes. 

“Gee, at least ask me when it's not ass o'clock in the morning, won't you?”

“No, no, this only works if you get up right now,” you say. “Come on, Jeonghan, just go on a date with me. Right at this very moment.”

Jeonghan rubs his eyes, before taking his phone away from his cheek and peering at the screen so he can read the time. “See, you’re not presenting a very good argument,” he says, once he’s put the phone against his ear again. It’s almost three in the morning. What are you thinking? “I don’t wanna date you that much.”

You make a sad sound on the other end of the phone. “What will it take to get you out of the house?”

“Wire me an obscene amount of money right now and I’ll think about it.”

There’s a pause.

“No. Best I can offer is a pretty please.”

Jeonghan can’t help smiling at your dry tone, and he rubs his eyes once again with a yawn. “Fine. I guess I can’t expect anything better from you, anyway.” He can almost see you biting your lip in annoyance, wanting to quip something witty back at him but also wanting to keep quiet so he’ll actually come. 

“You know me so well.”

“Yes I do,” Jeonghan teases, and groggily hauls himself out of bed. “I’ll be ready in ten. Where do you want me to go?”

“Don’t worry, princess, I’ll pick you up,” you say, suddenly sounding excited. “Just wait for me and I’ll come over to take you out.”

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. “Is that a threat?”

You laugh, bright and happy, like it’s not four in the morning and you’ve asked your best friend to go on a date with you. Jeonghan can’t help but smile again, even as he grapples blindly through his dark room to find some clothes.

“Don’t worry. It’s a promise.”

───────────── 🌘

Jeonghan is, admittedly, more than a little confused when you just take him to the nearest playground.

Sure, maybe this entire thing is weird—you calling him up during ridiculous hours of the morning to “go on a date” is definitely not something you’ve done before—but that’s just the kind of friendship he and you have. 

It’s like how, last year, he spent an entire month calling you increasingly ridiculous pet names, ranging from “beloved” to “honey butter snuggles bunny bear”, and purposefully took you out to public cafes and restaurants to test them out for everyone to see and hear, preventing you from punching him as hard as he probably deserved. 

So this is, like, nothing new. Just a funny and silly thing the two of you do, because you've known each other for the whole of your lives, and when it comes to the way your relationship works, the lines separating “platonic” and “romantic” have always been curiously nonexistent. 

It doesn’t mean anything. It’s never meant to mean anything.

But sometimes, sometimes, it feels like it should.

“I think I’m going to end up alone forever,” you say abruptly, and Jeonghan looks over at you in surprise. You’re sitting on the swings next to him, dragging yourself back and forth as you look up at the sky. There’s nothing to see up there, with the clouds obscuring any moonlight, so it's obvious that you're just looking away so he can't see your face. 

It's so quiet; Jeonghan didn't realise that the world could be this quiet at 2 in the morning, and it makes your words echo extra loud into the abyss, before they're swallowed by the darkness. 

Jeonghan shrugs. “Maybe you will.”

Instantly, you're leaning over to swat him on the arm, and he laughs. 

“Asshole,” you say, but there's no venom in your voice, even as you level him with a glare. “You're really no help. I'm trying to unload all my deepest fears for you, here, practically begging you to reassure me, and yet all you can do is be mean.”

“You said one thing,” Jeonghan points out. “I don't think that counts as unloading all your deepest fears.”

“Yeah, well, maybe it's my only deepest fear.”

“Why are you unloading your deepest fear on me?” Jeonghan asks, kicking his legs out in front of him. “We're on a date. Our first date, mind you, so this hardly seems appropriate.”

“Asshole,” you say again, but like before, the word has no bite. You glance over at him, before realising that he's looking at you, and then quickly raise your gaze to the sky. “I'm being serious about this, you know.”

Jeonghan says nothing for a long moment. Watches the way the pale light from a nearby lamppost gives you an unearthly, almost otherworldly glow. 

“I'm being serious too,” he decides to say, looking up at the cloudy sky with you. “You shouldn't be saying that stuff on a first date. Kinda makes it sound like you don't think things will work out between us, you know?”

You huff a confused laugh, looking over at him again. “Jeonghan, wha—?”

“And maybe you will end up alone,” he carries on, thoughtfully, as if he's talking to himself, forgetting that you're sitting there too. “But maybe you won't. I think you probably won't. And even if you do, it's fine, because I'll still be with you.”

It's a painfully vulnerable thing to say, made doubly so by the quietness of the night. Like a love confession, almost. Except it's not, because he's not in love with you. 

He isn't. 

“That's really sweet,” you say, almost begrudgingly, as if it pains you to admit that Jeonghan actually said something nice, and he laughs. “Though wrong. If you’re with me, then I'm not alone, am I?”

“Oh, I see. When you said alone, you meant in general. I thought you meant, like, romantically.”

“Well, maybe. But maybe I also meant overall,” you shrug. “I didn't think you'd want to spend the rest of your life with me.”

Jeonghan swallows, tilts back on the swings, head still raised to look at the sky. “I want to spend every life with you.”

You look away from the sky at his words, turning to face him in surprise. The echoes of what he’d just said were already fading away, muffled and pressed into the velvet dark of the night, but the surprisingly soft air that followed in its wake still remained.

 Now, he's the one avoiding your gaze, keeping his eyes firmly locked on the shapeless, misty blur of clouds above him so he doesn’t have to look at you. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see you tilt your head, and smile. 

“Oh, look at you, you sap,” you say, bright and teasing. “Face it, you like being with me. Oh! I bet you're in love with me, seeing as how you agreed to date me and everything! Isn't that right, Jeonghan? You love me.”

Jeonghan pulls a face, and you burst into laughter, so ridiculously loud and happy even though it's two in the morning and the whole playground is silent, the sound of your happiness ringing against the cool air of the night. He can't help but look at you then, exasperated and fond, shaking his head as you grip the swing chains and sway back and forth, still giggling to yourself. 

He sniffs, feigning annoyance as he leans to the side, making a dramatic show of pulling his swing away from you. 

“This isn't a real date. I could never date you.” He scrunches his face in faux disgust for good measure, and you laugh again, rolling your eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. And yet you still came out when I called, didn't you?” you tease, smiling widely, and Jeonghan has to admit that you're right. He's here because you asked him to be here. He’s here for you.

Hm. This was getting weirdly soul-baringly truthful for what he’d thought would be a silly little hangout in the middle of the night.

“Next time you call me at 2am, I’m blocking you forever,” he says dryly, giving you an exaggerated look of disdain just so he can revel in the laugh that it pulls out of you.

“No you won’t,” you say cheerily. “Because you looove me.”

“Um, lies.”

“No lies. You literally love me so much.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You do. You do, you do, you do, you’re actually genuinely in love with me and there’s nothing you can do to deny it, because it’s so obvious that I’m literally the love of your l—”

Jeonghan makes a clicking sound with his tongue and leans over to shove your arm, causing you to swing to the side as you cackle with delight at his reaction. He glares at you, again, sighing with exasperation as you continue to laugh.

“Yes, yes, I love you, just as much as you love me. Now if we’re not actually doing anything of importance, then can I go home?”

“What?” you say indignantly. “Of course not! If I can’t sleep, then that means you’re not allowed to sleep either.”

“I knew it. You called me out here because you couldn’t fall asleep.”

“Duh. Now come and push my swing, will you?”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes and stands up from his swing, groaning and holding his knees like he’s some kind of grumpy grandpa. You laugh, mocking him for his bad joints as he walks around to stand behind you, and he snarks back something ridiculously funny and rippling with light, twisting through the cool air.

And then his hand presses against the small of your back, soft and yet sure, and suddenly all you can focus on is that gentle, feathery point of contact that connects you to him.

Your laughter subsides as he begins to gently push your swing, and you move up, and down, and up, and down, the fleeting warmth of his hand an intermittent pressure against your back. He doesn’t say a word. Everything is quiet, in your head. Like his touch alone could silence any worries that still floated around in your brain.

It’s one of the things you adore most about Jeonghan. He makes you feel safe.

“For the record, by the way,” you say, voice quiet, “I really do love you.”

There’s no noise but the metallic creak of the swing, sounding weirdly small in the yawning abyss of the dark. Jeonghan’s hand is still steady as he pushes you, again and again.

“As a friend?” he asks, eventually.

You can’t see him, and maybe that’s for the best. His voice is tinged with a colour, an emotion, that you can’t quite name, warm and cool and fleeting and present all at once.

Yet more silence greets his words. You continue swinging, and he continues helping.

It’s hard to know what he means by that. As a friend, in a hopeful way? As a friend, in a meaningful way? Or as a friend, in a way that could maybe, maybe, signal that he thinks, or wishes, that you mean... something else.

More.

These things are difficult to tell, when it comes to Jeonghan. Who wears his heart on his sleeve and yet also hides it away where no one can see.

“Yeah,” you say, after it has been far too long since he’d asked, but it’s clear that you were both waiting for your answer anyway. The word leaves you as a sigh, threadbare and thin. “As a friend.”

Jeonghan huffs a soft laugh. Maybe because he believes you, or maybe because he doesn’t. You’re not too sure.

“Okay,” he murmurs, pale as moonlight. “In which case, I love you too.”

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect @dokyeomkyeom @suraandsugar @haodore @tulsa24 @melodicrabbit

[icallhimjoey]

supreme leader, would you ever write a sequel to ‘ground rules’ where our baby with joe is here and it’s just a cutesy dad!joe moment? (also wouldn’t be opposed to some smutty times as well bc i just can’t go past gotta-be-quiet-cause-the-baby’s-sleeping-but-fuck-i-want-you-right-now-new-parent-smut) heart you, as always!!

we're switching gears, everyone! sorry for the whiplash! Wordcount: 3K

---

Only Have Eyes For You

(read Ground Rules here)

Joe has yet to stop staring at her.

It’s either eyes on her, or eyes on you, and even though you’re gorgeous and make his chest swell beyond what he thought his ribs could ever manage, looking at her is different.

New.

“Will you keep an eye on her?”

“Yea, of course I will. Go get some rest, please, baby.”

It’s been over an hour, and he still needs to raise a thumb up to wipe a tear from an inner corner about every thirty seconds. For several reasons, too.

It’s been five hours since you’ve given birth, and both sets of grandparents – grandparents, that sounds so fucking wild – have left evidence of their visit all over the room. There’s balloons, cards, flowers, bags with gifts in for you and for the newborn baby girl and Joe feels like they brought too much and too little. Were there for too long but left too soon. Should’ve been there right after instead of two hours later, but also maybe should’ve come to meet the baby tomorrow instead of today.

He wants to protect and hide this little girl from the world, but also needs everyone to see how gorgeous she is.

Five-hour old baby, fast asleep in her clear plastic bed that’s been placed right next to your hospital bed where you’re asleep even faster.   

He’s got no idea how much sleep he’s gotten over this weekend. Doesn’t care, either. Just knows that he’s staring at perfection no matter which way he turns, and that the small of his lower back aches because he’s been sitting in his chair weird, but this is the only way he can both touch you and see her little face.

Her perfect little face.

Joe’s got a hand around your ankle as you lie passed out in your hospital bed, finally in what seems to be a deeper sleep rather than just a quick nap, and he wishes you could stay like that for at least the next ten hours. He knows it doesn’t work like that with a newborn, and you’re obviously in a hospital which doesn’t help, but God, you deserve to sleep for a fucking lifetime.

Everything that surrounds you looks and sounds normal, so he guesses your blood pressure must be okay, but he keeps his ears pricked, just to be sure.

The birth was a long one. Almost everything you had tried preparing for hadn’t happened in the way you’d expected, which is what everyone kept telling you was going to happen, but it was still frustrating. It did however feel very fitting with how the two of you had even gotten together.

It was a good thing you managed to pull through most of the labour with humour.

Doctors and nurses had started making jokes of you becoming permanent residents when your dilation had halted at six centimeters for ages, and in return, you had started making jokes that they were going to have to start knocking before coming in, because you knew of a way to induce the labour that Joe would feel more comfortable about if he had some privacy.

“No, no, I do not–” Joe had immediately protested the first time you’d cracked the joke, and the lack of laughter coming from him plus your weird eyebrow wiggle had only made the nurses laugh louder.

“Sorry to inform you,” the doctor said in the middle of giving you another check. “But having sex will not cause labour to begin before your body is ready for delivery.”

“It won’t?” You’d acted all heartbroken. Made Joe mutter, “Jesus Christ!” under his breath, because, you were six centimeters dilated for fuck’s sake. Of course he wasn’t going to have sex with you.

“We’re still not in labour, are we?” the doctor said, insinuating that he thought you had probably tried it at home already.

“Ask him how many times we’ve had sex...” you’d challenged immediately, making Joe groan from the corner of the room where he was sort of pacing around, facing the wall more than the room, because there was another man with fingers deep inside of your vagina, talking to you about sex.

“Can we please focus on—” Joe started, equally as embarrassed as he was humoured by you.

“Once.” You answered your own question and gestured at your stomach. “One time! All it took!”

It had become a running joke between the two of you that Joe didn’t think you were going to involve so many other people in. Joe had gotten you pregnant and then hadn’t touched you since.

Not true. There had been plenty of touching. But you were super pregnant when you’d gotten together and it never felt right for Joe to insert parts of himself into parts of you that felt like they belonged to a whole different person for the time being.

Which actually made a lot of sense to you.

It was just unfortunate that hormones had made you super horny for half the pregnancy.

Hence why it had become a running joke.

One that really annoyed Joe. You were lucky that he loved to hear you laugh and to see you smile so much.

When the two of you were left alone again, Joe scolded you through a smile and pressed kisses to your temple, because you were being funny and entertaining even though you’d just gotten bad news. Again.

Joe lovingly touched your stomach, and pressed his cheek to yours as he looked down at it and said, “You’ve made it too nice in there. She doesn’t want to come out.”

“Remember when we were like, let’s do this as friends...” you joked, but Joe could hardly focus on your light tone of voice when you grabbed hold of his bicep with a strong grip.

“Idiots.” Joe commented, finding your hand and covering it with his.

“I think we would’ve been able to do it, but—”

“You think so?”

“Yea. I was very determined. But, this is nicer.” You smiled and made eye-contact with Joe. He was quick with a tissue, to dab at your wet eyes. He’d learnt to be ready for every and any emotion over the past few days; everything and anything could bring you to tears.

“I wouldn’t have been able to do it.” Joe said, smiling too. “I was already sort of head over heels if I’m honest. You were determined for two, I think.”

That had made you burst into actual sobs.

The last hour of giving birth, you’d cried non-stop. A weird silent steady leaking of water from your eyes as you struggled through the delivery. Joe guessed it was the pain – had to be, because, what the fuck was even going on? How the fuck had nature decided that this was meant to be normal? But then finally, when soft baby cries filled the room, one of the nurses said, “You’re there, you’re done. Relax, we’ll take it from here.” He’d realized then that it they were tears of exhaustion over anything else.

You’d been going for hours, and then your blood pressure did something funny after the placenta got removed, so now they wanted to keep you for a bit, which was scary. But going home with a newborn sounded even scarier, if he was honest... so he wasn’t going to complain about how uncomfortable his chair was.

Or how tired he felt.

He’d been going for hours too, but his tired was different from your tired. He could feel it in his bones, sure, but it was easy to keep his eyes open. Easy to keep staring at her. Easy to do jobs whenever someone asked him to do one.

“Mum’s done. Now, dad, come here. Pay attention.” 

And he has not been able to stop paying attention yet. He’s listening to your breathing, paying close attention to the rhythm because you’re the priority after all that’s happened. Yet he can’t keep his eyes off of his baby.

There’s a baby next to your bed.

The one he watched you gave birth to.

Your baby.

His baby.

He thumbs another tear from the corner of his eye before it leaves a wet trail down his face and uses his sleeve to dry both his eyes as he pushes his nose into his elbow for a second, not letting go of your ankle.

Life is ridiculous.

He still feels emotional over seeing you scream and cry, in pain and all sweaty. You’d performed a miracle, but it was no fun to witness how difficult the whole thing was on you. Had he not already convinced you to be with him, he would have started that quest today and would’ve likely never stopped.

When he blinks his eyes back into focus, it’s to you stirring in the white sheets of your hospital bed.

He freezes.

Maybe if he holds his breath and doesn’t make a single noise, you won’t wake up. He’s not sure how easy it’ll be to fall back asleep if you pull from your unconscious state completely. He wasn’t there when it happened – had gotten hauled off to help wash and dress his baby (the tiniest clothes he’d ever seen still too big on her, he was pouring tears as he tried to put the socks on and hated how you weren’t there to see it) – but he was informed that you lost a lot of blood and needed a lot of stitching.

After going through all of that, you’d needed stitching.

Your baby had been taken to get cleaned up, and you’d told Joe to go with her. To watch her. To stay with her and to not lose her out of his sight.

He’d listened.

Knew better than to tell you no.

But then you were left on your own, and you’d needed stitching.

You can’t move without wincing now, and Joe could probably jog home if he really wanted to. How is that fair?

Joe holds his breath, and watches you stretch your spine in your sleep before you relax again.

But then suddenly, your slow movements turn jumpy as you jolt awake with a gasp. It makes Joe jump almost just as much, and he narrowly avoids your knee to his face.

He watches you wince in pain, clearly uncomfortable, but then you immediately sink back into the mattress when your eyes find the clear plastic baby bed that holds your child, and you release a relieved breath.

“My God,” Joe whispers, already humoured by what just happened. “She’s still here, calm down.”

“Sorry,” you croak, curling a hand around the edge of the hard plastic and Joe watches your knuckles go white.

“You okay?” Joe’s already up on his feet, hand on your face to wipe your hair back.

With your eyes still closed and head slumped to the side, you softly answer, “Hmm. My vagina hurts.”

“Yea, of course.” Joe nods, unable to look at you without all the sympathy in the world displayed on his forehead. “Do you need anything for the pain?”

“I need to pee, but I don’t want to. It’s already burning.”

“I’ll go get someone.”

“Please.”

Joe gets a nurse in, and he helps you get out of the bed before you’re helped over to the toilet. Not before you tell Joe to watch her. Watch the baby.

“I’ll keep an eye,” Joe says, because he’s already found it’s his new favourite thing to do. To stare at her. “Go pee.”

The door to the bathroom is left open, and Joe listens to your conversation as he does as he’s told.

It’s a lot of, “Careful, mum. Careful. Slow movements.” coming from her, and a lot of hissing in between your teeth from you. A lot of, “Is this normal?” questions coming from you, and a lot of “If you feel this, it’s probably for this reason, which is totally normal.” answers from the nurse.

Joe gets the room and the fresh new little person all to himself for a second, and he leans all the way over your bed, feet still on the floor, his head resting in both hands as he slowly blinks at what you’ve created together.

He can’t get over how you’ve made this.

Two people have just gone and accidentally made a whole new person... it’s legitimately insane, Joe thinks.

The peeing takes longer than Joe thought it would take. He doesn’t blame you for taking your time, but he hopes that you figure out how to do it without being in pain or needing any help before you get to go home.

Joe hears a shocked gasp coming from you before you softly ask, “That’s a lot of blood. Is that a lot of blood?” followed by a toilet flushing and a reassuring, “Absolutely totally normal. Don’t worry.”

Baby is still asleep. Soundly and so peacefully, small tiny nose doing a perfect job at breathing, Joe’s already so proud of her it’s stupid.

“Well done, mum! First bathroom visit!” the nurse claps her hands together and laughs when you give a sarcastic yay in faux celebration.

You’re miserable, but Joe can hear your smile through everything and it makes his heart swell even more with pride. For you. For urinating. He’s proud because you peed, what the hell.

He shares his first secret smile with his daughter. “Mummy peed!”

You get helped back into your underwear and joggers, and Joe lets his view distract him enough that he almost doesn’t hear what you ask just before you step back into the room.

“Six weeks before sex, right?”

You’re joking, but Joe hears the serious confusion when the nurse asks, “Oh, have you not been talked through—”

“We have. Don’t listen to her.” Joe interrupts, and when he looks over his shoulder to see you shuffle back over to the bed, he catches the cheeky smile you’re trying to hide.

Before he can say anything else about how he’ll have you wait twelve weeks if you keep bringing it up, he catches your eyes flash in pain, just from your small shuffling steps, and he’s up in an instant. Pushes himself from your bed and turns to place both hands under your arms to make sure you’re safe and supported.

You hold onto him like a lifeline and pause in place for a moment.

God, the labour is done. Can you have a single second without any uncomfortable sharp pulling down there? Jesus.

You don’t see how Joe and the nurse share a look over your shoulder. The nurse is smiling at him, and Joe gives her a tired shake of his head as he rolls his eyes, quietly communicating that the girl he’s chosen to have a baby with is an actual menace.

“Maybe eight weeks?” Joe carefully jokes, hoping it’ll get you to laugh and forget about how sore you’re feeling for a second. Instead you just sigh and go, “Yea, maybe.”

You’re helped back into bed by four hands, shuffle slowly into position and leave enough room for Joe to join you.

You’re sore and tired and in a weird emotional state, and it’s simply much nicer to be all of those things squeezed tightly up against him. Joe knows to curl into you with his whole body and lays an arm over your pillow for you to place your head on. It gives the both of you the perfect view of your baby.

Your baby.

You feel a flash of want for her. To have her in your arms. Against your chest. To hold and hug and keep her close. But she’s asleep and you’re not quite sure what to do when she wakes up. What if she cries and you can’t get her to stop? This is safer.

You can both just watch her.

“I’ll be back in thirty minutes,” the nurse says after checking a file, and you ask, “To help me feed her?”

The nurse smiles, says, “Yea sure, that too.” and leaves.

You make a funny face, confused, and look at Joe like you think she was being rude.

“To check on you.” Joe softly says, and your face drops immediately.

“Oh. Yea. But I feel fine, now.” your focus is barely on yourself. There’s this whole other brand new human to be worried about.

“Hmm. Okay. Think you can sneak a little more sleep before she’s back?”

“Probably not.” you say, but Joe sees how you close your eyes anyway. Feels how you carefully move your hips back a little to feel more of Joe against your body. Feels how you grab onto his arm and firmly press it into your stomach that’s still big and round, but all soft and squishy now.

“Can you try?” Joe whispers, lips touching the shell of your ear.

“Will you watch her?” you’re already sinking away. Joe’s body heat is pulling you under quicker than he’d anticipated.

“Of course I will,” Joe says, but lies, and watches you for a moment instead. You’re his priority. Thinks it’s silly how you wouldn’t accept that if he told you. “I’ll watch her.” he confirms, not lying then, because he’s talking to his daughter as he says it.

Joe watches you until he feels you drop of the deep end. Feels you relax in a way he’s not felt you relax in ages.

After a while Joe repeats, “I’ll watch her.” in a barely-there whisper before he places a barely-there kiss against your cheek as you sleep.

His gaze moves back to the small baby girl in the room, and Joe’s eyes immediately well up again.

It’s stupid how even just the sight of her feels new and unexpected again. Like he’s seeing her for the first time once more.

And he simply finds that, once again, it’s so easy to stare.

Finds he can’t stop staring.

“Yea, I’ll keep an eye,” Joe whispers to himself. Thumbs another tear from his inner corner before it can run down his face and bother you.

“I’ll keep an eye.”

---

The Taglisted

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add yourself

[dduane]

Hello! I am the oldest sibling and let me tell you, I think it’s a raw deal. Bringing this back to YW, it made me wonder what happened to the oldest Rodriquez sibling, Helena? Is she just out there doing her thing and avoiding her family? (I remember she disliked wizardry) TY!

PS Carmela has to be the most middle child ever. ❤️

Well, at the end of A Wizard of Mars, where she last appeared personally in the narrative, Helena has decided that Kit is actually a mutant... and apparently has less trouble approving of what's been going on with him when considering him from that angle. (Though he tries to disabuse her of this idea, has no luck, and gives up in exasperation.)

The Errantry Concordance tells us (at least, in its most recent entry on Helena) that as of AWOM Helena was in her first/freshman year at Amherst; and the revised timeline of the New Millennium Editions pins that statement down to June of 2010. The next Helena-pertinent prose item would be the novella How Lovely Are Thy Branches, which is time-fixed "between early November and late December of 2010"; and all we hear of her there is conversation implying that she's still in college. Where, I assume, we can expect her to remain until 2013, unless for some reason Helena goes post-grad.

In any case, as of spring 2011 (when GWP takes place), there's no mention of Helena in the narrative at all; so we can guess that nothing even marginally interesting (from our viewpoint characters' POV) has been going on with her. With the notable exception of Owl Be Home For Christmas, which takes place in 2020—and where there's also no mention of Helena—that's as far as (Earth-based) series canon so far takes us.

So let's assume that no news is good news, and see if that assessment holds up as the series continues. :) ...Meanwhile, I strongly suspect that Carmela will have been tightly controlling her own contacts with Helena to make sure her sister has no reason to suspect that two members of the family have now gone rogue.

And yeah, I think Carmela is about as Middle Child-ish as anyone would reasonably want to get. Gotta be a tough row to hoe. So maybe it's no surprise that becoming a (vaguely-)illicit cocoa runner seems like a positive outcome while she finds out more of what her own road will look like. :) In any case, she does get a mention in OBHFC, where Kit mentions (with an air of great resignation) that apparently Carmela's somewhere offplanet "'getting one of her cargo ships' engines refitted.'" So plainly, for her at least, at that point everything's business as usual...

HTH!

[written-by-3racha]

"I love you!" ft. stray kids hyung line

note from étoile : I knew i forgot something. I forgot my favorite part of formatting: the note. idk I just think it's cute saying stuff to a partner in another language.

WARNINGS : None really, fluff? just how they'd react to you saying i love you in a different language

♡ bangchan has always found Spanish an attractive language. In his eyes, he definitely won the gold mine when he started dating a latine person.

"Thanks Chan, te quiero mucho," you tell him one afternoon after he brought you lunch.

Chan started heating up, face and ears turning red. "Yeah, um, you're welcome, babygirl!" His big grin made you feel butterflies.

"Do you like when I talk Spanish, cariño?"

"Okay, stop teasing me!"

♡ lee know and you had an... odd relationship. You weren't sure if he liked you or not. You wanted to try something. You knew it was stupid and he probably wouldn't understand, but it was worth a shot. "Я тебя люблю."

Lee Know smirked at you. "Правда?" His smirk grew wider when he noticed your shocked expression. "You're funny, y/n. Definitely wasn't expecting this, hm?"

You didn't comprehend a word he said too busy processing the fact that he understood and responded in Russian.

"We'll go out together tomorrow, okay? Take some time to rest. You look like you need it."

♡ changbin and you went on a special day-long date to celebrate your anniversary. as the night was about to end, you muttered, "Je t'aime beaucoup, mon cœur," you were just barely audible for him.

"I don't know what that means, but I'm guessing it's something good..?" He responded, smiling his signature smile.

"What it means doesn't matter, mon cheri, what does matter is that I love you. Happy anniversary." You kissed his forehead, to which he hugged you tightly.

"Happy anniversary, bunny!"

♡ hyunjin had been your person of admiration for a long time. He was so beautiful, so kind, so funny. "大好きです."

The words had slipped out of your mouth so suddenly. It felt right to you, like the perfect piece to finish the puzzle.

Hyunjin looked at you, corner of his lips turned upwards. "That means... you like me, right?" He had performed some Japanese songs before, so he had some knowledge of the language.

"Please, forget what I said!" You flushed.

"Well, y/n," Hyunjin tilted your head and moved closer to your lips, "愛してる," He whispered before closing the gap.

[storiesfromafan]

Drinks - Benny x Reader

A/N: a very small, 499 word one-shot. Enjoy.

Prompt: How many drinks would it take to make you mine?

Tag list: @strayrockette

Taking a moment away from your girl friends, and the need for another drink. You were leaning against the bar, waiting for the bartender to notice you. When he did, you gave him your order, and waited for your drink.

“How many drinks would it take to make you mine?” Came a rough voice from behind you.

You sighed, rolling your eyes – though your new friend couldn’t see it. “I think the line is how many drinks would it take to take you home? Hmm”. Your tone was annoyed.

When you got no reply did you finally decide to look at your new suitor, and planning to further give the guy a piece of your mind. Unfortunately you did not expect the fine specimen standing behind you. He was tall, just enough muscle, dirty blonde messy mop on his head, matching stubble across his strong jaw and the most gorgeous blue eyes you’ve ever seen. Along with a small smirk upon his lips. Oh how you wish you’d looked at him before opening your big mouth.

To be fair, most of your night, different Vandals had come up to you, shooting their shot. Which you knocked back every time. So, you hadn't expected the next guy to hit on you to be a tall drink of water. Definitely a step up over the lack lustre men that had came before him. You could think of a thing or two you could do with this man.

“I meant what I said" replied the gorgeous man.

Slightly clearing your throat, you gained back your senses. “Hmmm, it’s bold to want to make me yours-” you paused, not knowing his name.

As if reading your mind, he spoke “Benny".

“-Benny, without even a test ride. Why's that?” You questioned, looking him dead in the eye and not backing down.

The smirk on Benny's lips grew, as a small chuckle escaped them. “I don’t need a test ride when I know what I want. And I want you, simple as that, sweetheart".

You raised an eyebrow at his words, and how sure of himself he was. “Oh really, Benny? How can you be so sure?”

Without breaking eye contact, he leant in closer, allowing you to get a good whiff of his aftershave and cigarette mix. Which had your head swimming. “Oh sweetheart, I have liked what I’ve seen the last few nights" and then he winked.

“Is that so?” You enquired, just as your drink was placed by you on the bar. “Unfortunately for you, I don't drink. So, I guess I wont be yours".

With that, you grabbed your pop before patting Benny on the arm and walking back to your friends. You could feel his gaze on you, burning you with every step from him you took. You might be a tease and playing hard to get, but you weren't letting no Vandal think they could have you so easily. If Benny really wanted you, he could work for it.

[pandapetals]

Juno

worst wolverine/logan x afab!reader - i guess angst, inspired by sabrina carpenter's song juno, mentions deadpool but not in fic, logan being nice, no y/n used, no reader description, human reader, cute ending, age gap

After saving the universe with Wade, Logan decides to be a better guy especially after he sees you.

read on Ao3

He was the worst Wolverine until he wasn’t—at least in this universe. Logan had been given a second chance, one he hadn’t expected, and this time, he was determined to take full advantage of it. He wasn’t used to being the “nice guy,” but hell, after all the lives he’d lived, the bloodshed, and the mistakes, he figured it was about time he tried something different. Something better.

So, he did his best to get along with Wade, despite how many times he considered cutting the guy in half just to get a moment of silence. He tolerated Wade’s endless banter, his chaotic sense of humor, and even his wild group of friends. Logan also made an effort with Laura, doing his best to be some kind of father figure to her, even if he had no idea how to be one. He was a nice— nice-ish —gruff guy now, or at least he was trying to be.

That’s why, when he saw you for the first time, walking out of the apartment across the hall, he decided to pull out all the stops. You weren’t someone he could easily ignore, and that realization hit him harder than he cared to admit.

Logan had noticed you right away—young, maybe mid-twenties, with that kind of light in your eyes that only came from people whose weight of the world hadn’t yet worn down. There was something about you that drew him in, something about the way you carried yourself that made him pause. You were different from the kind of people Logan was used to. You were good in a way that felt foreign to him—bright, untainted, and impossibly out of reach but he couldn’t help himself.

So, he tried. He’d grunt a greeting whenever you passed him in the hallway, offering a half-smile that probably looked more like a grimace. He’d hold the door open for you, although he never bothered with that kind of thing for anyone else. Every time your paths crossed, Logan made sure to do something to get your attention—something small, something that felt almost ridiculous for a guy like him, but it mattered.

He wasn’t sure what it was about you. Maybe it was the way you smiled at him—so soft, so genuine—that caught him off guard. Or maybe it was how you seemed so unbothered by his rough exterior like you weren’t intimidated by the man who was once feared across the multiverse. You just treated him like a person, and somehow, that made him want to be better.

One afternoon, Logan was leaning against the wall outside his apartment, a cigar between his lips, lost in his usual cycle of brooding thoughts when he heard your door open. Instinctively, his gaze flicked toward you. There you were, dressed casually, a bag slung over your shoulder as you fumbled with your keys. He pulled the cigar from his mouth, watching as you turned and met his eyes, giving him that same bright, unassuming smile that never failed to catch him off guard.

“Hey, Logan,” you said, your voice light and friendly like you’d known him forever.

Logan grunted in response, nodding slightly. “Hey.”

He wasn’t good at small talk. Never had been but for some reason, he found himself lingering there, his eyes following you as you locked your door and made your way down the hall toward the elevator.

“You headed somewhere?” he asked, surprising himself with the sudden question.

You paused, glancing back at him with a soft smile. “Just running some errands. Nothing exciting.” You looked him over for a moment, your eyes twinkling with something like amusement. “What about you? You always hanging out in the hallway like this?”

Logan smirked slightly, taking a slow drag of his cigar before answering. “Only when I’m bored. Which is most of the time.”

You chuckled, a sound that felt too easy, too natural coming from someone like you. It made Logan’s chest tighten, though he wasn’t sure why. “Maybe you need to find a new hobby,” you teased, tilting your head at him. “Something less... brooding.”

He couldn’t help but huff a laugh at that. “Brooding’s kind of my thing,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Not exactly easy to shake.”

“I can see that,” you said, your smile widening. “But, you know, there’s more to life than standing around with a cigar, looking all intense.”

Logan’s smirk grew, despite himself. You had a way of making him feel... lighter. Like he didn’t have to carry the weight of everything all the time, he shrugged. “Old habits die hard.”

You gave him one last lingering smile before heading toward the elevator. Logan watched you go, his eyes trailing after you as the doors slid shut behind you, leaving him alone again. Except, this time, something was different. The silence didn’t feel quite as heavy, quite as suffocating. He felt... less like the man he’d been, and more like the man he could be.

Over the next few weeks, Logan found more excuses to cross your path. He’d be leaving his apartment just as you were coming home, offering you a quiet nod and a gruff “hello” that somehow always led to a brief, easy conversation. He’d make sure to be around whenever you passed through, catching glimpses of your smile and feeling that strange warmth in his chest every time you acknowledged him.

One evening, you surprised him by knocking on his door. Logan opened it to find you standing there, your hands tucked into the pockets of your jacket, a shy smile on your lips.

“Hey,” you said, rocking on your heels a little. “I was about to order some takeout. Thought maybe you’d want to join me. Since, you know, I’m sure you have better things to do than hang around in the hallway.”

Logan blinked, taken aback. No one ever just invited him to hang out—especially not someone like you. He wasn’t sure how to respond at first, the words caught somewhere between his usual gruff demeanor and the part of him that was genuinely touched by your offer.

“Yeah,” he said finally, his voice softer than usual. “Yeah, sure. Why not.”

You smiled that bright, easy smile that made his heart do something strange in his chest. “Great. Chinese okay?”

Logan nodded, stepping aside to let you guide him into your apartment. Logan couldn’t help but think how absurd this would have seemed just a few months ago—him, in a normal apartment, about to have takeout with someone like you. Maybe that was the point of this second chance. To be something different. To be something better.

Maybe you were part of that better.

As you settled onto his couch, flipping through the takeout menu, Logan glanced at you from the corner of his eye, feeling that familiar tug deep inside him. You were young, full of life, and he was... well, he was trying. 

With a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, Logan sat down beside you on your couch, the takeout menu loosely held in his hand. His eyes softened as they landed on you, but he couldn’t help the flicker of distraction that pulled his gaze toward your apartment. Something about being in your space, seeing the personal touches that made it you, tugged at him in a way he couldn’t quite put into words.

“You really don’t mind me being here?” he asked suddenly, his fingers instinctively raking through the spiked hair. His tone was light, almost teasing, but the question had a layer of insecurity that caught even him off guard.

You laughed, that bright, warm sound that always made him feel lighter, more at ease. “No, I like you being here especially since you act all tough but really you’re cute.”

He shook his head, chuckling as he leaned back against the couch, still holding the menu loosely in one hand. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” you teased, nudging his arm lightly, “you like me anyway.”

Logan didn’t deny it. He just glanced at you, his gaze soft, almost unreadable in its intensity, before letting out a quiet, almost reluctant laugh. “Yeah,” he said, his voice low but sincere. “Yeah, I do.”

For a moment, you both fell into an easy silence, the kind that only happens when two people are comfortable with each other. 

Logan, never one to sit still for too long, found himself glancing around your apartment again. There was something about being in your space that fascinated him—maybe it was because your life felt so different from the chaos he was used to. It was quieter, softer, more... grounded.

His eyes landed on a vintage record player sitting on a small table near the window. A stack of vinyl records was neatly arranged beside it, the top one showing the faded cover of some old jazz album. Logan’s brow furrowed in mild curiosity.

“You actually use that thing?” he asked, nodding toward the record player, a faint smirk on his face.

You glanced over at it, smiling fondly. “Of course I do. There's something about vinyl that just sounds... different. Better, in a way. It’s like you can feel the music, you know?”

Logan raised an eyebrow, looking at you like he was seeing you in a whole new light. “Didn’t peg you for the vinyl type.”

You chuckled softly, leaning back into the couch. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Logan.”

That made him pause, something stirring in his chest. The idea that there were layers to you he hadn’t uncovered yet intrigued him. He glanced down at the menu in his hands, but his focus was still on you. He was here, sitting in your apartment, fumbling over a takeout menu, and all he could think about was how different his life felt now compared to just months ago.

You nudged him with your foot, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Come on, focus. What do you want to order?”

Logan grunted, shifting his attention back to the menu, but his mind kept drifting—first to the record player, then to the framed photos on your bookshelf, and then, inevitably, back to you. There was something about this—this quiet moment, the simplicity of choosing takeout and sitting on a couch with someone who made him feel less... lost. Something that felt like it mattered.

After a few more minutes of back-and-forth, you settled on Chinese food. Logan called in the order, and while you waited for it to arrive, you slipped off the couch and walked over to the record player.

“Wanna see what you’ve been missing?” you asked, already pulling out a record and carefully placing it on the turntable.

Logan raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a smirk. “Impress me.”

You smiled as the crackle of the needle hitting vinyl filled the room, followed by the warm, melodic tones of a classic jazz tune. The music washed over the space, and for a moment, Logan just listened, his eyes locked on you as you swayed lightly to the rhythm.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” he said softly, leaning back into the couch as he watched you.

“I try,” you teased, sending him a wink before joining him again on the couch.

As the music played, the two of you settled back into comfortable conversation, the warmth between you growing with each shared glance, each quiet laugh.

Weeks passed after that night, and before long, the easy camaraderie between you and Logan had deepened into something more. It wasn’t like he’d planned it—he’d never planned anything in his life. Somewhere between stolen glances in the hallway, lazy evenings spent listening to vinyl records, and quiet mornings where he found himself waking up next to you, Logan had fallen for you.

It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t something he had to agonize over. It was just... right. Like this was how it was supposed to be.

You didn’t push him, and maybe that was why it worked. You gave him space when he needed it, but you were there when he came to you—no judgment, no expectations. You let him be himself, and in return, he found himself wanting to be better for you.

As you lay beside him one lazy Sunday afternoon, your head resting on his chest while the soft sound of rain pattered against the window, you felt something shift between you. It wasn’t just the comfort of being together—it was the weight of something unspoken that had been building for weeks.

You turned your head slightly, looking up at him. Logan’s eyes were closed, his arm draped casually around your waist, but you could tell he wasn’t asleep. His fingers traced lazy circles on your back, grounding you in the warmth of the moment.

“Logan,” you murmured, your voice soft, hesitant.

He grunted in response, opening one eye to glance down at you. “Yeah?”

You bit your lip, nerves fluttering in your stomach. You’d been thinking about this for a while now, but you hadn’t been sure how to bring it up. But here, now, in the quiet of your shared space, it felt like the right time. “I was thinking... maybe it’s time we took the next step.”

Logan’s fingers stilled for a moment, and you could feel him processing your words. He didn’t pull away or tense up the way you thought he might. Instead, he shifted slightly, turning to face you more fully.

“What do you mean?” His voice was soft and careful, but there was a flicker of understanding in his eyes.

“I mean...” You took a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. “I want to be with you. Completely.” 

Logan blinked, his expression unreadable for a moment as he absorbed what you were saying. You searched his face, waiting for him to pull back, to tell you this was too much, too fast. But instead, he surprised you.

His hand came up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. “You sure about that?”

You nodded, your heart swelling with emotion. “I’m sure. I know what I want, Logan. And I want you. All of you.”

For a moment, Logan just looked at you, his eyes searching yours as if trying to find any hesitation, any doubt. But when he didn’t find any, a slow, genuine smile spread across his face—the kind of smile you didn’t see often, but when you did, it melted your heart.

“If that’s what you want... then yeah. I want that too,” he said quietly, his voice rough but full of warmth.

Relief and joy washed over you, and without thinking, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his in a slow, tender kiss. His hand slipped behind your neck, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, the warmth between you growing into something more.

You felt the weight of his body as he shifted over you, the heat of his skin against yours as the rain continued to fall softly outside. And in that moment, with Logan’s arms wrapped around you, everything felt right. The future, whatever it held, didn’t feel so uncertain anymore.

You had each other and that was enough.

[kimberleyjean]

What did Adam change? (Part 1)

To follow up on my recent reblog about the baby swap, I'm going to take a closer look at Adam where we leave him at the end of S1. Because, by the end of S1, Adam had changed quite a few things... and I'm going to use both the TV show and the book to provide evidence.

To become the Young's real son, I don't think Adam really needed to change all that much. He just says the words to Satan, Satan disappears, and that should be it, right? But no, because Adam goes much further, and I think he does it because he can.

Because Adam has opinions, you see. Opinions on how the world should be and what he wants to happen. Except, unlike Agnes, who needs to write a prophecy and then wait 300 years for her descendant to enact it, Adam can just make it so.

The Other Two Babies

I originally thought about putting all the things Adam changes into a single post, but instead I'm going to make this a short series of posts, because he changes a fair bit. Let's start with where we left off with the baby swap, crack open a copy of the book and discuss the changes for Warlock and Greasy first.

Warlock

Here's some excerpts of Warlock flying home from Megiddo to America (my bolds for emphasis):

It was Sunday afternoon. High over England a 747 droned westwards. In the first-class cabin a boy called Warlock put down his comic and stared out of the window.

...

And now he was going back to the States. There had been some sort of problem with tickets or flights or airport destination-boards or something. It was weird; he was pretty sure his father had meant to go back to England. Warlock liked England. It was a nice country to be an American in.

...

And Warlock flew on to America. He deserved something (after all, you never forget the first friends you ever had, even if you were all a few hours old at the time) and the power that was controlling the fate of all mankind at that precise time was thinking: Well, he's going to America, isn't he? Don't see how you could have anythin' better than going to America. They've got thirty-nine flavors of ice cream there. Maybe even more.

So it's Adam who has sent Warlock back to America, despite Warlock wanting (even, expecting) to be on his way to England. And he's controlling the fate of all mankind.

Greasy

Likewise, he has changes for Greasy Johnson too (the discarded baby who grows up to win prizes for his tropical fish).

The plane was at that point passing right above the Lower Tadfield bedroom of Greasy Johnson, who was aimlessly leafing through a photography magazine that he'd bought merely because it had a rather good picture of a tropical fish on the cover. A few pages below Greasy's listless finger was a spread on American football, and how it was really catching on in Europe. Which was odd… because when the magazine had been printed, those pages had been about photography in desert conditions. It was about to change his life.

Adam is deciding here how to alter Warlock and Greasy's paths. Warlock wants to be back in the UK, but Adam thinks America is better, while Greasy's magazine is changed to American football, which I guess is implying he's going to become an American footballer.

Now, not everyone may be aware, but these parts weren't in the first release of the novel. It only came about later, in the American edition. Apparently the changes were in response to prompting from the American editor, but they got "carried away" making those changes (source).

Season 3 (warning: speculation)

So, do you think this could be relevant for S3? For me personally, the fact that these bits were added later makes me wonder if this was helping to set up for a potential sequel. It's certainly poetic - just like the baby swap that originally involved all three, we are now implying a potential adolescent swap of Greasy, who is interested in American football, and Warlock, who is interested to return to the U.K.

If you've read at all about the hypothetical plot of the proposed written sequel, you'll know that it involved a trip to America, ostensibly to look for a lost Jesus. So, if the next book was originally meant to be about going and finding someone (Jesus?) in America, then Greasy or Warlock could make sense. It would be a switcheroo all over again if Warlock had left for the UK and Greasy for America.

Another alternative is that all three could end up converging in America, since Warlock already lives there and both Adam and Greasy have interests in going there. But if that's the intention, why mention that Warlock wants to be back "home" in the U.K.?

So, those are my possible takes on how this passage can be interpreted. I know there are some theories that either Greasy or Warlock may be the Second Coming. I've also seen a theory now that Adam himself could be a contender (both spawn of Satan and spawn of God - it'd certainly be interesting!). I'm not placing bets on any of these outcomes just yet.

In addition to this passage in the book, we also see some interesting changes made by Adam which are featured more prominently in the show - one's that have implications for the ineffable husbands.

Part 2 coming soon!

Thanks as always to everyone at the @ineffable-detective-agency (including @noneorother, @embracing-the-ineffable, @lookingatacupoftea, @251-dmr, @somehow-a-human, @maufungi, @havemyheartaziraphale, @theastrophysicistnextdoor, @dunkthebiscuit, @komorezuki, & @ghstptats).

[joocomics]

ಬ fuck buddies: part two

part one | part two | part three

pairing: fuckbuddy!yangyang x f!reader x loser!winwin

genre: angst wc: 1.8k

contains: friends with benefits trope, jealousy, bickering and miscommunication, toxic relationships, dirty talk, gets a bit smutty in the end

“a little bird told me that something interesting went down in my kitchen minutes before the party.” yangyang speaks up without feeling the need to look at you as you walk into the room with drinks for the two of you in hands.

upon hearing these words, on the inside, you instantly picture winwin and how you cuss at him; how you punch his chest and tell him to fuck off for thinking it was a good idea to open his mouth about this even after you told him not to. on the outside, you exclaim with the most unbothered surprise you can fake.

“oh? who is it about?”

“try to guess.”

winwin’s face is still present in your mind as your heart clenches from time to time. the truth is, you don’t regret what happened between the two of you - you liked it, a lot. your only goal was to provoke winwin, to tease him, you didn’t expect him to unleash this new unknown by anyone side of his. one minute he was being his usual awkward self, and the next he was completely unpredictable and suddenly you couldn’t help it - you wanted to see more of what he’s capable of.

but on the other hand… you wish you could turn back time and not give in to the temptation so easily, because yangyang is the one who matters to you.

as you put down yangyang’s drink on the nightstand beside him you use the opportunity to take a quick peek at his face. he looks too calm which puts you on edge. you wonder how much exactly do you mean to him? the number of girls he hooks up with is higher than the number of guys you sleep with; you wonder if there’s a possibility of someone taking your place as his new favorite?

you erase the on going messy thoughts in your head and name the first person from your mutual circle that you can think of:

“johnny?”

“no,” yangyang drags out the word with a certain laziness to his tone, and that makes him seem like he’s getting bored of the way you insist on playing this game. “not even close.”

“i give up,” you sit down on the bed next to him and lean back against the cushions. as you wait everything to go downhill from here, you bend knees to your chest to at least feel comfortable in the heated moment.

what exactly are you giving up? hiding what really happened that night before the party, or… yangyang?

the question shoots through your train of thought so quickly you almost miss it.

but can you really ever give up on yangyang? maybe in another life, but you doubt you can do it in this one.

“i told you you’re not allowed to fuck any of my friends.” he speaks up after a pause of silence. “this was the only condition we had.”

“that’s not true,” you disagree, “we also said that we’re never going to act jealous and ask questions about other people we sleep with.” you resist to turn to him which is good, because you wouldn’t have enjoyed seeing that scornful laugh he makes after hearing you out.

“this isn’t jealousy, sweetheart.”

“then why do you care so much that i slept with him?” you ask, and your heart quickens as the seconds without an answer go by. “because it’s winwin?”

yangyang remains silent for a moment just staring in a blank dot on the wall. in comparison to him, you can’t stop staring at the chair placed in the corner to hold a pile of clothes. it makes you wonder how many girls have tossed their skirts and messy underwear there. you hate the idea of this and that’s why you never use that chair.

“you don’t know him like i do!” yangyang’s voice grows stronger. his hair tumbles down as he looks at his lap while the motions of his hand emphasise his frustrations. “you let him fuck you once - good, now he’s practically in love with you, and you’re only gonna make a fool of him, because he’s already obsessed with you and you hate when people obsess over you.”

“oh, please! don’t pretend to care about his feelings.”

somebody craving my love and attention to the point they can’t think of anything else sounds nice right now, you think to yourself.

you know the reason behind yangyang’s anger, and the words are stuck in your throat, threatening to come out any minute now. you wonder if you’re going to succeed in keeping them in. the idea of putting him in his place is tempting.

“i do, because he’s a good loyal guy.” his tone fades down to normal again. “and you… you’re me.”

you gaze into his face. yangyang tilts his head slightly in your direction, because he can clearly feel the cold intensity in your eyes that are suddenly focused on him after avoiding him for so long.

for an unknown reason there’s a spark in his gaze. like he’s proud of what he just said.

“do not compare me to yourself. we’re not the same.”

“c’mon, we’re like two sides of the same coin, y/n.” a lazy smile slowly spreads on his lips. one that doesn’t convey joy, but an annoying confidence. a smile that says: i’m aware of things that you’re not.

“bullshit,” you scoff, looking away.

your heart starts racing, and your mind starts overworking with all the things you want to say to him, but also with the enormous pile of things you still can’t find a way to explain to your own self; how are you going to tell him things you don’t even know the answers to? you discreetly press a hand to your cheek and realise you’re getting hot from your sudden infuriation.

a good loyal guy like winwin, or any good loyal guy, cannot be with a girl like you.

there’s one thing you know for sure though.

“who knows, you might be right, but there are a few things in which we obviously differ from each other.” you quickly put on a mask that hopefully gives you the look of someone that’s not that affected by this conversation. “confidence, for example. you hate the fact i hooked up with winwin only because you’re scared of people finding out that i went to fuck a loser like him instead of you. they’ll start talking and ask questions. is yangyang that bad in bed? why would she suddenly jump on winwin’s dick an—“

“you do have an imagination, i’ll give you that.” yangyang cuts you off.

“i’m over this.” you put an end to the conversation, and you’re just about to jump off the bed when yangyang’s hand pulls you in. “what do you want?” you mumble with a frown.

“kiss me,” he utters.

“i’m not in the mood,” you turn your head dismissively to the other side.

“baby,” he speaks again even more softly; almost in a completely different voice. “listen to me.”

you know it’s not a good idea, but you look back at him and allow him to run his hands along the bare skin of your arms.

“no one can have what we have.”

there were a few times when you’ve told yourself the same exact thing. it sounds so much better when he says it though - more real.

“and you can’t have what you share with me with another person,” he continues as his one hand goes up to cup your cheek. “same thing with me, even if i try i’ll never find in another girl what you keep on giving me.”

yangyang pulls you closer until you lay your head on his chest. his arms wrap around your figure, and you breathe in and out slowly. the sudden embrace loosens you up on the instant and your heart’s banging goes back to normal.

“let’s not complicate things, yeah?” this question makes his warm voice suddenly ring with a demanding colder thrill. it’s suddle, but you’ve known him for so long that you always notice things like that in his behaviour.

after he doesn’t hear a response from you, yangyang forces your chin up so he can look into your eyes and get it himself. you nod as his finger keeps your head up and soon enough his lips press against yours. how do you resist him?

kissing him always helps you to calm your mind, even when he’s the reason for it to be anxious in the first place. however, there’s one little conclusion that you came to; looks like you’re making progress…

yangyang is wrong about you. you are good and you are loyal, just for the wrong person. yet… here you are, deepening the kiss, because you’re not able to fight against your own true feelings.

after you adjust comfortably on his body, his hands begin to roam freely underneath your oversized tee and your familiar skin, warm against his palms, gets him excited. he takes it off so he can trace every inch without restrictions.

“that’s always better,” he utters close to your mouth.

a sharp breath slips from your lips when he swiftly switches the position by laying you on your back. your hands suddenly hang in the air when he locks your wrists together between his fingers.

“i already want to fuck this pussy again,” he says under his breath while sliding his free hand down your stomach. “just the way you want it.”

the thought of him inside you has you feeling a bit dizzy with the way the tip of his finger brushes against your clothed clit. it’s true, he always fulfills your desires the way you want, but you can’t stop your brain from going back to that experience with winwin… he’s the one who showed you that you can have your desires fulfilled in new exciting ways, and the most pleasing part about it is how unpredictable it felt with him; last but not least… how it felt that he performed the way he did because of you. you’re the main cause for his unrestrained self, and it results into him fulfilling your cravings the way you need them to be fulfilled.

you know you’re all that occupied his mind before and after that… and you know you still are, and you like it.

“come in!” yangyang shouts on top of you, but his eyes look at the half-open bedroom door.

you didn’t even hear the doorbell ringing from being completely lost in your own thoughts. your brows furrow questionably for an explanation, but you quickly receive one when winwin’s voice spreads throughout the apartment.

yangyang’s eyes bling with a daring smile while yours stare at him with lack of understanding.

“thought you’d like it if he comes over to hang out with us,” he says continuing to hold your hands together. “you’re friends now after all.”

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

[closetcasefabray]

jesus saves (i spend)

i have been writing parts of an avatrice college au for two gd years now. the ideas & writing are scattered between here (one of the tags below should work), my whatsapp convos with @snowandwolves, on discord, my dinosaur laptop that crashes, & my email. it’s a fucking disaster but whatever so am i & not once in my life have i had my shit together so this is all unsurprising.

SO what i’m saying is, here’s the only part i have ‘formally’ written in fic form bc i posted that other ficlet. doing this made me almost throw my dino laptop & my phone out a window on several occasions—that’s why there isn’t more. but i just wanna share this.

more notes & rambles at the end.

//

You notice her because it's syllabus week of your freshman year, it's an 8 AM class, and you're fairly confident you're still drunk from the party you attended last night, but she raises her hand and correctly answers a question posed by your theology professor without hesitation. Your professor, Father Vincent, was likely hoping for a good guess at best, but there she is, exceeding expectations from the moment she speaks. You pickup on an accent, which you would find incredibly attractive if you weren't so thrown by her perfect and concise response, like a well-prepared speech is always readily accessible in the back of her mind—a girl with all the answers. A young woman, really. 

You, however, are not—you're just a girl. You're just a girl who shows up to her morning classes smelling like the bar or the house party from the night before, like the weed you started smoking almost immediately upon arriving to university during orientation week, like the cigarettes you smoke because it affords you a little more quiet outside and an excuse to borrow a lighter and talk to a cute boy or a pretty girl.

You're just a girl who technically died, existed in nothingness for a whole minute before being ripped back into a reality of blank ceilings and the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. You're just a girl strangers prayed for after they heard about the American child pulled from the wreckage. You're just a girl who didn't get any credit for teaching herself to stand again, to walk again—and if you’re being completely honest, you’re a girl who’s incredibly bitter that a god you never saw in that one minute got all the credit and none of the blame—for taking your mother from you, for taking years from you that had to be spent healing from god’s grace or lack thereof. 

You're just a girl who is tired of being told to look at her life as an expression of holiness, who thinks it is more so the consequence of indifferent stardust. But you still look for the beauty in that, in humanity and its flaws—these meaningless beings in a vast universe, creating and destroying their own little, myopic worlds on this spinning rock. Some will dream of poetry for their lovers, and some will dream of arsenals to level cities. You wonder how many lips were pressed together in a final kiss versus hands clasped together in prayer when fire fell from the sky in the name of God. You wonder what that says about faith.

You'd like to think if your mother could see you, she'd laugh at the irony because once you were baptized, she never took you to church. God finds a way, so you spent five miserable years in a Catholic orphanage before you were sent back to America. People said you were lucky to have two years in a foster family at your age, but it felt like living with strangers who were tasked with the minimum of keeping you alive. Then you were moved into a home for teen girls with a nun at the helm, and that’s where you actually felt fortunate for the first time in years. It was there that Mother Superion helped you with your studies and college applications. So here you are, tipping into a hangover in one of the oldest buildings on campus, learning theology from a priest.

But your mom would understand. (You don’t remember much of her, and you try not to think about that too deeply, or else you have to deal with the resulting ache that comes from reaching inside yourself for something that’s gone.) You have spliced together what you can recall into a short reel—you mom buckling into your car seat while humming a show tune, showing you how to fold a pizza slice and telling about a city famous for their pizza, and holding your hand in a museum in Spain, promising to take you to another big museum closer to home, the home you never saw again. So you promised yourself and the parts of her you carry that you’d make it here.

You would have had to pay almost full tuition if you wished to attend your reach, requiring immense debt, so you ended up at the school that offered you a ticket to the city and a hefty enough scholarship you could get through four years without requiring loans or a full-time job to afford it. (You first refused to use your mother’s death as a sob story in you application letter, but Mother Superion put her hand on yours and said, So rarely do these letters contain truth, but do not be afraid to tell yours. In telling your truth there is a sadness, yes—and I know you detest pity—but of all the things that have been taken from you, do not feel guilty for taking some of it back to live a better life.) You remember getting your acceptance letter, and looking up at the sky and flipping it off, praying whatever god hears you, No thanks to you!

But your bitterness temporarily takes a backseat in your mind as you look at your classmate, beautiful in the refracted light shining through the stained glass window, speaking so graciously of god you'd think Jesus were in the room, about to hand her his latest work. It's poetry, bordering on scripture in a new tongue, and you'd almost be a believer if it didn't sound as if she had repeated these words—practiced—enough times to believe them herself. You wonder what that says about her faith.

If the nuns at the orphanage had spoken the gospel as she does, maybe you'd be here for different reasons. You're fascinated.

Behold, you are beautiful…

//

i promise this fic gets lighter & has some silliness. so some notes/tangents:

this is 100% self-indulgence bc i heard ‘write what you know’ & ran with that shit. when i visited a friend at a state school in a college town i was so so confused bc it was just a diff campus culture entirely. then i was going to make this set in an ambiguous city, but i literally have saved places in google maps that would be great places to kiss someone sooooo you get NY avatrice.

likely setting this before instagram & smartphones bc i’m old/lazy & i can.

the title is from st. vincent who my friend introduced me to in college. “paris is burning” changed my brain chemistry & so i listened to her music on repeat for ages—“jesus saves, i spend” is on the same album.

father vincent will not be a bad man or evil professor. he will be as he was before adriel—a lost man who found himself through god & still a little broken but caring & devout.

also song of songs/song of solomon is like… the only part of the bible i fucked with in theology class so that’s the reference at the end. also another line used in another scene with JC, chanel, & ava written in v rough form. maybe will share that later.

this is meant to be a fic with a post-grad sequel as well. not much written of that but a lot of ideas everywhere.

once i figure out where i’m moving (hahahaha i’m so stressed), i’ll consider a ko-fi or something (i wish emails & names weren’t shown though). but mostly i will likely need a second job to save up for an actually good computer/macbook. once i have that i’ll be able to post on ao3.

anyway thanks for reading & being here :3

[heybrownieboy]

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: A MURDERER, A DEMON, AND AN ELEMENTAL?

POV: 2nd Person. Y/N.

— Word Count: 2K+

Author’s Note: Finally an update :). In all honesty, I’ve been struggling with getting back into writing lately— after not having time nor mental energy to in so long— but, I’ve also have felt awful going M.I.A for over two months. So, while I was working on this, I decided to break up what I do have and give you all this little update. I wanted to reassure you all that I am NOT giving up on this SMAU. At all. I will be continuing and finishing it. But for now, I hope you enjoy this. I apologize for it being short but, I promise the next chapter is much longer (once I’m able to actually put this one damn scene into words 😭).

“Do you honestly think this is a good idea?” 

You tore your eyes away from your TV—which was currently playing reruns of “Happiness”— and to the spirit siting on the couch next to you.

“What?” you asked. 

“Tonight,” Minho said. “Do you honestly think going to that shrine tonight is a good idea?” 

“Yes,” you said. 

“That caretaker is crazy, Y/N. Like completely batshit crazy."

“So I’ve heard,” you said.

“I mean it,” Minho said, exasperated. “I think he’s the one that actually killed Jisung and I.” 

Your eyes widened. “Wait what?” you asked. 

“I don’t remember a lot from that night,” he said. “Like at all. And I know you said spirits tend to forget more and more things the longer their earth bound.” 

You nodded at that. 

“But I remember some snippets of that night,” Minho said. “And I think he was there. I swear saw him for a spilt second. I was too shocked when I found…” He took a deep breath, an obvious expression of pain and grief crossing his face. “When I found Jisung’s body. So, I wasn’t exactly paying attention to my surroundings. I saw the caretaker run behind me from my peripheral vision. But, before I could react there was a rope wrapping around my throat.” 

“I thought you two were kidnapped?” you asked. 

“I think we were,” he said. “At least in a sense. Do you remember when Jeongin talked about that night he went to the mountain alone?” 

“He said he doesn’t remember the car ride there,” you said quietly. 

“Or half of his hike through the woods,” Minho finished. "Not until he heard Jisung. From what I remember, something similar happened to me.” 

“It was probably the demon controlling you,” you said. “They’re good at that. It’s like a semi-possession.” You rubbed your temples. “So I’m about to go spy on a murderer, a demon, and an elemental?”

“What do you think they’re doing up there?” Minho said.

“Honestly I don’t know. I feel like I don’t know anything. Everything for me with this whole thing has been guesses.” 

“Yet you’re still trying to help,” Minho said. 

“Of course I am,” you said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Why wouldn’t I?” 

“Because it’s dangerous and you could get hurt,” he said. “Or even die.” 

You shrugged. “It’s not the first time I’ve almost died.” 

“Yeah,” Minho said slowly. “What’s with that huh? How are you alive and have been to hell?” 

You winced. “It was a long time ago,” you said. “And in all honestly I don’t really like talking about it much.”

“I get that,” Minho said. “And I won’t push you to talk about something you don’t want to. Hell was the worst thing I ever experienced in my life. I mean, yeah I guess it’s Hell but, I never expected it to be like…”  He grimaced at the memories.

“Yep,” you agreed, completely understanding of what he meant. 

“I thought it was just going to be super hot.” Minho let out a humorless chuckle. “I wasn’t exactly religious before all this so, I guess I never really read up on it.”

“You could say Dante wasn’t too far off,” you said. “And I do think it’s a little different for everyone.” 

“Yeah. Sometimes Jisung and I would see different things.” 

You squinted at the spirit. “Have you seen any other spirits lately?” 

Minho tilted his head at you. “No actually,” he said. “Now that I think about it. The only one I’ve seen all week is Jisung. Why?” 

“Fucking hell,” you grumbled. You leaned against the back of your couch, head thrown back and eyes staring up at the ceiling. “I’m starting to think that’s what these rituals are for. Because in my twenty years of life, I’ve never gone a day without seeing a least four or five spirits. I’ve only seen three others— besides you and Jisung— in the last week. That’s it. And it been over a week since I’ve seen a demon.” 

“That’s not a good thing?” 

“God, I wish it was. But, no it’s not.” 

“Fuck,” Minho breathed. “So, what should we do? I knew this was complicated and dangerous but this? This seems next level.” 

“I don’t know…” You threw up your hands exasperated. “I feel like that’s all I’ve been saying lately. ‘I don’t know’. It’s so fucking frustrating.” 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Minho said softly. “You’re trying. You’re helping us even if you don’t have to. And so far you’ve done an amazing job okay?”

You have him a half hearted smile. “Thank you,” you said.

“Is there maybe any kind of research you can do on this?” he offered. “I mean, there has to be some answers out there somewhere right?” 

“Maybe,” you said. “I only have like an half an hour before Jay and Nico pick me up though. And kind of search isn’t something I have easy access too. Not to mention it’s the supernatural. Nothing is finite. There’s thousands of rituals out there. And thousands more that aren’t recorded.” You nibbled on the inside of your cheek nervously.

“You grew up in a family of Shaman right?” Minho asked. “Can’t you ask like an elder or something for help?” 

You scrunched your nose at that. “I don’t talk to most of them anymore,” you said. “But, I do have someone I could call. My aunt should be able give me some kind of advice.” 

You leaned over to grab your cell phone off the coffee table. It should be around five P.M in London right now. You scrolled to your aunt’s contact and hit call. It only took a few rings for the line to be picked up

“Y/N-ah.” 

The sound of your Aunt Bora’s gentle voice on the other side of the line immediately had you relaxing. The tension that had building up all day seemed to almost completely melt away. 

“Hi,” you said softly. “How are you?” 

“I’m doing great, honey,” your aunt said. “But what about you? It’s almost one A.M in Korea right now. Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” 

“I wish I could,” you said. “But I’ve been stressed out lately and couldn’t sleep.” 

“Stressed out about school?” Bora asked. “Because you shouldn’t be. I know studying to get your nursing degree can be challenging but you’re extremely intelligent, Y/N. You’ll make an amazing nurse in the future.” 

You smiled at that. “Thank you,” you said. You let out a soft sigh. “But that’ not the reason I called you. I need advice. On the supernatural.” 

“Oh? What do you mean? What’s happening?” 

“Do you remember those two men that went missing last year?” you asked.

“Yes,” Bora said. “Lily-ah and Natty-ah knew them through friends, correct? What were their names again?” 

“Lee Minho and Han Jisung,” you said. You glanced at Minho for a second. He was the one now leaned back into the couch watching you contently. 

“Didn’t you try to help find them last year?” your aunt asked.

“I did,” you confirmed. “But I couldn’t. I didn’t find a trace of them physically or spiritually.” 

“I’ve always found that strange. It’s almost like…” 

“Someone might have been hiding them.” 

“Exactly,” Bora said. “Did you finally find them?” 

“Kind of,” you said. “It’s more like they found me. Well, technically Jeongin found me.”

“Jeongin?” 

“Their friend. Um, how do I even explain?” 

“Start from the beginning yeah?” Bora said, her voice gentle. “Tell me everything you know.” 

And so you did. You explained how Jeongin originally had come to you or “Eris” for advice because he thought his friend was haunting him. How that turned out to be correct and that Minho was in fact trying to get through to him. You explained how you saw Minho and then had the premonition about Jisung. You explained their spiritual debt and how they were tricked by those three. How they had to escape hell and how half of their soul was stolen from them.

“So,” Bora said slowly, “you’re trying to help them break their spiritual debt and move on?” 

“Yes,” you said, with a slight wavier to your voice.

“But?” 

“But that’s not all. One of the trio he made a contract with was human. A living human. Minho is pretty sure that he’s the one that murdered them.” 

“Y/N,” your aunt said lowly. “You can’t confront a murder.” 

“Oh, I’m not done though.” 

There was a few beats of silence before your aunt asked, “What do you mean?”

“In the past week or so, I’ve seen three spirits and no demons,” you said. “Only one of those spirits talked to me. And all it did was ask for the time.” 

“Asked for the time? Spirits never ask for the time. Unless…” 

“Unless they’re being summoned somewhere,” you said. “I think they’re all being summoned to that mount Minho and Jisung went missing on. By the human.” 

“You think he’s summoning them all there for something bigger,” Bora said. 

“Exactly,” you said. “He’s been preforming rituals for about two weeks. At least that we know of. “

“He’s most likely a Shaman. A very powerful one. Rituals like that? They aren’t easy. At all.” 

“I know,” you said.

“And I’m guessing there’s more,” Bora said with a soft sigh. 

“The other two being they made this contract with are supernatural. One is a demon. But the other one, neither Minho or Jisung knew what it was. They said it was different from the demon.” 

“Don’t tell me…” 

“I’m pretty sure it’s an elemental, yeah.” 

“Y/N,” your aunt said voice now taking on a firm, cold edge. “You need to stay away from elementals. They can and will kill you if you ever get in their way. Forget the murderous shaman. Elementals are not bound to the same rules as demons. Not to mention they hate humans more than demons ever have.” 

“I know,” you said. “I do but…” You took a deep breath. “I cannot not help. There’s something seriously wrong.” 

“It doesn’t matter. This is your lif—“ 

“They have wards to keep away angels,” you said cutting your aunt off. 

“What?” she asked, utter disbelief overtaking her tone.

“Minho said that the mountain is littered in wards keeping angels out,” you said. “Namely Azrael.” 

“That’s impossible.” 

“You would think. At first he thought it was just the hellhounds being kept out. They got too close to the mountain and they were repelled, But he said that Azrael has not been able to get onto the mountain at all either. That the barrier the wards created repelled him as well.” 

The other line went silent. After a few moments you began to worry that the call had disconnected. 

“Hel—“ 

“I don’t like this Y/N,” your aunt said quietly. “At all. I understand Azrael is probably the last angel you want to see since… since all of that happened. But he’s still an angel. He’s still a protector. If you go on that mountain, you have absolutely no protection. Not against the Shaman nor the elemental.”

“I realize that,” you said. “And I completely understand that. But like I said. There’s something seriously wrong happening. I think Minho and Jisung were apart of whatever plan they have going on. Not to mention they’ve been talking about Jeongin. Another human life they most likely want to take. They’ve been planning this for at least a year now, Aunt Bora. Whatever it is, it’s huge. God know how many people will eventually be dragged into this."

Your aunt let out a heavy, defeated sigh. “Okay,” she said. “Okay. I know there’s no way to talk you out of this.” Another sigh left her lips. “ Let me think for a few minutes. Maybe I can help.” 

You smiled. “Thank you,” you said. “So much.” 

Your aunt simply hummed. After a few minutes she began speaking again. “How were those to boys killed? Do you know? I might be able to narrow down what ritual they’re trying to get ready up for.” 

“They were strangled,” you said. You peered at Minho for a second, your eyes focusing on the wound around his neck.. “Well, honestly it looks like the rope cut into their throats. They both have these huge infected gashes.” 

“Infected?” Bora asked. 

You copied her hum from a few moments ago. “Yeah.”

“Y/N, if they were dead, how could their wounds be infected?” 

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Of Chaos And Spirits Masterlist

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©️heybrownieboy 2024

[mithrifer]

My thoughts on Flipside

Class of 09 Flipside was hilarious, but I don't think it approaches the original or reup in quality.

I don't think it's because the main character is Jecka, or anything. Honestly, Jecka is the best part of the game, she's consistently good whether it be in jokes or likeability. The side characters just don't... live up to her though. Aside from her it's just Nicole, Jeffery, her dad and Kelly. I don't think Nicole is very good in this game, Jeffery and her dad are rather one note as expected and Kelly... unfortunately stars in the weakest route by far and does not much even there. Barely any Emily and Ari, no Kylar, no Karen. No Kyle. Jecka's great and carries herself quite well throughout the game, but she feels really alone narratively. This could be a conscious choice, as she goes through most of her troubles as a lonely girl without anyone to rely on, but I think they could've made that point without sacrificing the interest that comes with everyone surrounding her. Most of her interactions either use the other characters as jokes or to elevate her story, which wasn't how 09 or reup felt. Nicole got to try out new things thanks to all the weirdos she was surrounded with giving her new ways to have fun, whereas Jecka only really has Jeffery and her dad in that way, and she feels trapped no matter what she does. She didn't seem that way in the first twk games, but I suppose you could say those were not about her. I think the fact that you can't see her mom even on the school routes speaks volumes though.

Every ending is there just to shock you, and I'm not saying this because there's no happy endings or anything, the first two barely had those. It's more like... the endings feel like they barely have anything to do with the routes they come from? Why does the foot route end with... that? It's just out of nowhere. Not to mention the deal with the whole FYE route. I don't think there's anything redeeming about that one, it doesn't even feel like it belongs to the same world. And the way the game cheapens one of the best endings in the original by just, inserting Jecka. Which is something people have wanted for a while now, but I don't think the idea was done justice. It feels like a cheap "here you go" moment to me. It's really upsetting because I feel like the game could have gone in a ton of great places, but there's barely any choices or routes and the abrupt, weird endings just feel like a slap on the face even to the ones that were given. I think the best route was the one about drinking because it felt honest to Jecka's character and the ending was something I could've actually foreseen in one of the earlier games. After that it's the one with Jeffery, but I'm kind of iffy on that because I don't think Nicole would do that. Not for any moral reasons but more due overall disgust. Feels inconsistent with her presently given character.

The writing feels overall different imo. It's hard to put a finger on it, because it definitely relies on the same formula it had in the previous entries, but nothing in Flipside packs the same emotional punch. The humor is fairly good, but it's not spectacular like the first two games were for me. I still laughed out a few times though, since this is right up my alley.

I'm still happy I saw it, because it was quite fun... But it wasn't really more than that. It just felt like a humor piece. I don't know what spoke out to me in the first two VN's, but I don't think Flipside has it. And honestly, considering it true to these two (canon, ig?) lessens their value for me due to the shift in the thematics and I guess writing, so I think I'll ignore it when I think about the series in general. Which is such a shame, because I want to love it, it's just... not there.

It's definitely worth the time to check it out either way though. Again, pretty funny. This is what I felt about it, and I wanted to get my thoughts out. Since it's so early in its release, I've tried to avoid putting any spoilers in the post. Maybe someone will read it and appreciate, idk. Drunk driving rules.

[blueishspace]

Looped Sun 15

Loop #451

Mumbo wasn't sure about trying out Double Life, especially in a null loop like this one...but Grian had asked and he wasn't able to say no. So there he was, ready to see how this would go down.

TangoTek was blown up by a creeper.

Solidaritygaming died.

Mumbo didn't expect Tango to die the same way so he had to assume they were unawake this time around. It had been a while since they looped together now that he tought about it. Oh well.

Skizz: Hey man!

Mumbo: O-oh! You are here too?

Skizz: Sure thing!

Mumbo: O-oh...have you found your soulmate yet mate?

Skizz: No, have you?

Mumbo: ... Not really. Do you think...?

Skizz: No hurt in checking! Come on dude, punch me!

Mumbo: Oh pants! Uh... here you go?

Turns out they were soulmates, guess it made sense since the other pairs seemed to be the same.

Mumbo: I see skeletons!

Skizz: I'm on them!

Mumbo: Try not to die please?

Skizz: What's up!? What's up!?

Mumbo: O-oh I'll help!! Wait for me!

Well, they didn't win...not that he expected them to. It was lots of fun though.

Loop #453

Pearl had loved her first Avatar the last airbender loop, Katara had been a great teacher and she still used waterbending often... She didn't like this specific Avatar loop though, mostly because she was stuck as a fish.She got it of course, moon spirit, PearleascentMoon, sge wasn't stupid... but still being a fish in small small pond while swimming in literal circles is mind numbing.

Then of course came the general who tried to kill her, which was rude by the way, and she had to deal with him...fortunately chaos magic still worked as a fish.

Loop #457

Grian: And that's Uno.

Jimmy: No! No! You can't let him win.

Tango: I got nothing...

Mumbo: M-me neither. Scott?

Scott: ...Pearl? ... I'm sorry, +4.

Pearl: Don't worry mate, I got you. +4.

Grian: What!? Noo! Pearl why!?!

Jimmy: And It's my turn!

Grian: Ok, what if we traded?

Pearl: Go on.

Grian: I'll give you one of the red properties so you can get the monopoly if you give me that one.

Pearl: So you can get a monopoly too?

Grian: It's a win-win.

Pearl: ... Sure. Here you go.

Grian: I hate this. I hate life.

Mumbo: O-oh!

Scott: Look at the bright side.

Grian: What bright side?

Scott: Jimmy is sucking so bad.

Grian: You what, you are right. The game of life is my favorite now.

Jimmy: Wha- hey.

Tango: I mea ... He's not lyificating.

Jimmy: Rancher, you too? Betrayal!

Mumbo: Oh ...ok... Before blank all we had was blank.

Pearl: Ooh a double.

Scott: I have an idea but I also hate it.

Jimmy: I ...don't like this game...

Tango: Well, here goes nothing.

Mumbo: Ok let's see... Before s-sexy pillow fights all we had was gladiator fights? I don't get it...

Pearl: Yeah that was just boring.

Grian: Listen, I had 0. Absolutely 0 good cards.

Jimmy: I like this one a lot better.

Grian: Timmy ... Timmy this is not a game, It's Mumbo's tarot card.

Jimmy: I stand with what I said. So what did I get?

Mumbo: Oh! That's the... that's the fool.

Jimmy: Nice! ... What does it mean?

Mumbo: Youth... and luck...it depends.

Loop #459 (part 1)

Jimmy: Uh, were are we?

Tango: It looks like a dungeon entrance?

Jimmy: Well, I got that.

Scott: Oh fuck I know what loop this is. This is bad.

Tango: You do?

Scott: This is fear and hunger.

Jimmy: ... Oh...I heard about it. The very non pg one?

Tango: Are the two of you going to share.

Scott: This... We can do this, It's not a null loop or anything. It should be doable.

Scott: It's...really dark. Darker then the game.

Tango: I can have my flame hair on, it might help.

Jimmy: Or I could do the sun incantation? Make my hair glow.

Scott: No, no. You need to sing for it to work, we can't risk your throat getting tired too early on.

Jimmy: ...Alright.

Tango: Aren't you like a god of order Scott? Can't you do anything to help?

Scott: Not really, my divinity here is really diminished for some reason. Probably the influence of the old gods.

Jimmy: Wait I hear a voice!

Tango: Uh!? Where!?

Jimmy: It's...

Jimmy enveloped himself with a thin layer of Listener magic.

Jimmy: That way!

Tango: What-

Scott: Since when are you a Listener?

Jimmy: Pretty early on in my loops, it happens sometimes. Oh, I hear it again. It sounds young!

Tango: A door?

Jimmy: We obviously need to get to other side!

Scott: Let me try something.

And in a flash of blue Scott is gone... A few seconds later the door opens with Scott behind it.

Scott: The tesseract still works.

Jimmy: Is that a little girl?

Tango: Why is she in a cage? Scott?

Scott: ... It's complicated...just help me get her out.

Tango: The cage doesn't look too hard to breakificate. Just pull a bit and uh... It's harder then it looks. I'm going to melt it-

Scott: And risk molten metal getting on the girl?

Tango: Point... I'll just use an axe.

Jimmy: Hello there! Who are you?

Girl: ...

Jimmy: Right uh... I'll introduce myself first if you want.

Girl: ...

Jimmy: Right, I'm Jimmy, that's Tango and that is Scott.

Girl: ...

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[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

this ask may sound dumb but can i have the main 10 reacting to their crush with a fixation with bones? i have one of those life sized plastic skeletons and my brain always itches to study the structure of the human skeleton lmao 💀

Like, i KNOW that i’d be absolutely fascinated with the brothers and would probably ask to look at their bones or something 😭

anyways, i love your writing and i hope ya have a great day/night!

Undertale Sans - He doesn't mind. He's laying in bed, snoring, and lets you do whatever you want with his bones. He might even actually like that. You swear you heard something similar to a purr escape his throat for a moment.

Undertale Papyrus - He stays very still with his big googly eyes every time you have a sudden interest in one of his bones. He's still bewildered about what you're even doing but you seem to like it. A lot. So he guesses it's a good thing?

Underswap Sans - Um... Personal place? Please? Blue keeps trying to push you away, but somehow you never get the message and come back. He would gladly appreciate you not randomly poking his bones, it's starting to get a little weird.

Underswap Papyrus - He's always flushing when you do that, but he doesn't push you back either. Honey loves being touched and tickled and will never say no to a weird bones-touching session where he gets to be cuddled while you're looking for... Whatever you're looking for. That's fine by him!

Underfell Sans - He got really concerned the day you proudly said you were starting a plastic skeleton collection and started bringing home random naked skeletons to hand everywhere, but now that's just creepy. He's not one of your plastic skeletons, the hell do you want with his bones? He might reluctantly give you his arm if you insist a lot to see if it's enough to satisfy you, but that's all.

Underfell Papyrus - He stands really still as you're turning around him. He gives you concerned side eyes from time to time as you randomly poke his ribs, but he's not moving an inch. He said he would let you check his bones only one time, after you insisted a lot. But he's not going to make it easy for you. He growls if you look too long at the same spot.

Horrortale Sans - He doesn't mind. The only problem is that he's so happy to have attention he keeps bumping his head into yours, so you don't see his bones a lot. He's also purring like a tractor, which prevents you from focusing too much. He's accidentally impossible to study.

Horrortale Papyrus - He's very uncomfortable with that and won't hesitate to tell you he doesn't like it. Willow doesn't like when people are staring at him, or at his bones for all that matters. He's too uncomfortable with how he looks for that. Please give him some personal space.

Swapfell Sans - You think you can fool him? He watches your human movies! He knows those weird thrillers where a nice human starts doing strange things and then just straight-up kills their partner in their sleep. First, you collect bones, then study him, and then, bam! You're breaking all of his bones to do weird experiments on him or something. Stay away from him! If he catches you staring too long, he will bite you.

Swapfell Papyrus - You're so confused. Every time you check his bones, you swear some bones were not here before. Rus keeps adding fake bones to his bones just to see your face twitch in confusion. You're his favorite TV show.

Fellswap Gold Sans - He slaps your hand away every time you're trying to poke at his bones. You tried to surprise him. A lot. He's impossible to surprise, to the point you're wondering if he can see behind his head. You're so frustrated. So close yet so far...

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He lets you check him if you let him check you. He's curious too! Well... You just didn't expect Coffee to randomly sniff you from head to toe, but, uh, that's how he wants to do it apparently.

[matrixbearer2024]

I know it's probably shitpost but imagine Ford and his triplets dressing as the different Doctors from Doctor Who- like- it would be so fucking cute- and yes all of them are actually Doctors, they all have PhDs. Literally just imagine them binging the Dr. Who series, somebody's gonna call out some science shit and another is gonna go full theorist like the paranormal and cryptic hunters they all are.

Seriously just imagine seeing Ford one day not wearing a turtleneck, instead sporting a dress shirt(still high-collar no shaz) and a vest, not to mention he's wearing the black trench coat that he came out of the portal with. Man looks like he's about to go to a party in the 20s so you had to stop him and ask why.

"Hun, what are you doing?"

"I'm just passing through-"

Stanford wanted to laugh because of how cutely the confusion rested on your face. Granted, you probably wouldn't have realized who he was dressing up as since his wardrobe wasn't too distinctly different from the character he was referencing.

"Ford? Darling? Are you okay?"

"Nooo- I'm inside a Dalek!"

That reference hit you immediately and Ford couldn't help but start laughing at your befuddled expression. You just shook your head at the man amused as he leaned against the wall in a fit of giggles like the adorable nerd he is. Married to geekazoid with six fingers but hell yeah he was cute. It was an initial worry that your husband wouldn't properly assimilate into how earth is now, but it seems like he's taken well to bits and bobs of media.

Especially Doctor Who.

You wondered which of the kids decided it would be a great idea to introduce the show to him. Dipper was likely, but so were the chaotic triplets.

"Alright, so which Doctor are you supposed to be?"

"The twelfth! I found his character quite interesting and humorous, as well as oddly relatable compared to the other reincarnations."

You couldn't say that wasn't expected, but you definitely didn't predict what was gonna happen next. Not when your eldest son was frozen in the doorway sporting suspenders and a bowtie. Seems like it you found the culprit and it wasn't just your anomaly loving partner dressing up today.

"So... I guess the both of you are going to go cryptid hunting like this?"

"You say that as if it's a bad thing, but honestly ma– it's the best thing there is!"

You shook your head again as the two men laughed. As if that was the end of that chaos, soon after your other two children made an appearance.

"Alexander Euler Pines are you wearing a suit??"

"I mean, what else would I be wearing ma?"

You elbowed Ford when he started snickering, who really was the one who orchestrated all this? Seriously?? Not to mention- you weren't invited! How rude!

"Okay- so who are you supposed to be?"

"Well, that's the question isn't it?"

You facepalmed, causing the three men to just erupt once again in laughter. You looked over at your only daughter and she finally gestured to the other three and explained.

"10, 11, 12, and I'm 13."

"Huh, that explains the printed tee and white coat. Anything else I should know about?"

It was finally your turn to laugh when the lot of them suddenly whipped out the iconic screwdrivers, each of them buzzing with a high-pitched whir. Somehow you felt like it was safe to assume that they actually did have some functionality and it would be safer not to ask.

A family of doctors! Thank goodness nobody owned a TARDIS!

All of them did plan on going hunting like that though, something like a funny little family excursion. Ford offered that you join them but you figured it would be a great time as any for him to reconnect with the three so you declined.

"Stay safe you rascals!"

"We will!"

You smiled at them and waved before Stanford kissed the top of your head prior to exiting the shack to follow his triplets. As if today hadn't already been full of surprises.

"We'll be back in time for dinner, love you!"

And like that he was out the door. You couldn't help the warmth that bloomed in your chest watching the four of them scurry off into the forest to cause who knows what kind of chaos. You didn't mind or worry however, you knew that they'd all be fine.

Genius and oddity are apparently hereditary- and in this family, being ordinary is overrated/j