#although to be fair my brain isn’t really feel nonsense today

[translations-by-aiimee]

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 25

Original Title:  二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 25 - This Venerable One Hates Him So Much!

Chu Wanning couldn't force a "go away" to leave his throat. There was a long sombre pause before he changed his answer to: "Come in."

"Huh? Your door isn't locked?" They had been giving each other the silent treatment all day. But now, Mo Ran had the intention of reconciling with him, so he pushed open the door as he spoke like nothing had ever happened. Chu Wanning, on the other hand, sat expressionlessly at the table. He raised his eyes and glanced at him faintly.

In all fairness, Mo Ran was incredibly beautiful, and the whole room seemed to brighten as soon as he walked in the door. He was indeed very young. His skin was tight and seemed to exude a faint glow. The corners of his mouth were naturally slightly curled, and he seemed to be smiling even when he wasn't showing any emotion.

Chu Wanning didn't move his eyes off of Mo Ran. His slender eyelashes drooped and raised his hand to pinch out the incense burning on the table. He coldly asked:

"What are you doing here?"

"I came. . . to check your injury." Mo Ran awkwardly coughed. His eyes fell on Chu Wanning's shoulder and he froze. "You dressed it already?"

Chu Wanning faintly said: "Yes."

Mo Ran didn't know what to say: ". . ."

He really hated Chu Wanning, and he was furious that Chu Wanning had hurt Shi Mei. But, after calming down, Mo Ran wasn't completely without a conscience. Yeah, he hated him, but he didn't forget that Chu Wanning's shoulder was injured.

In the claustrophobic coffin, Chu Wanning had tightly guarded him in his arms, blocking the Master of Ceremonies Ghost's claws with his own body. His body had trembled in pain but he didn't let go. . .

To Chu Wanning, Mo Ran was disgusting.

But in addition to disgust, some very complicated emotions were always mixed in with it for some reason.

He was a rude person. He didn't read books when he was a child. Although he obtained some literary knowledge later, he still couldn't grasp many concepts easily when it came to many delicate things, especially when it came to feelings.

For example, when it came to Chu Wanning, Mo Ran rubbed his head and pondered. The back of his head was going to go bald, but he still couldn't figure out what this feeling was.

He can only identify certain kinds of feelings: love, hate, detest, happiness and unhappiness.

If all these emotions were mixed together, the wise and powerful cultivation emperor would get crossed-eyed and really dizzy.

He didn't understand. He couldn't understand. He didn't know. Help, my head hurts.

So Mo Ran didn't bother to dwell on it. Besides, he didn't have time to focus on any details other than Shi Mei.

He didn't hold good feelings for Chu Wanning in his heart, and while secretly plotting when he might have an opportunity in the future, he would make him pay with double the ferocity. On the other hand, he felt guilty. After an internal battle with himself, he finally knocked on Chu Wanning's door.

He didn't want to owe Chu Wanning.

But Chu Wanning was more stubborn and ruthless than he thought.

Mo Ran stared at the pile of blood-stained cotton gauze on the table, the bowl of hot water stained red with blood, and the sharp knife that was thrown haphazardly thrown aside. The tip of the knife was still coated with flesh and blood. His head was spinning.

How did he manage to heal himself?

Had he really cut off the festering flesh without so much as blinking? Just imagining it sent a chill down his spine. Was this guy even human?

He thought about when he had cleaned up Shi Mei's wound. Shi Mei had groaned softly in pain with tears in the corners of his eyes. Even though Mo Ran didn’t like Chu Wanning, he couldn’t help but silently give him credit——

Elder Yuheng was truly a domineering and righteous man, no arguments there.

After standing in place for a while, Mo Ran was the first to break the silence. He coughed, tapping his toes against the floor, and awkwardly said: "What happened in the Chen house. . . Shizun, I'm sorry."

Chu Wanning didn't say anything.

Mo Ran stole a glance at him: "I shouldn't have yelled at you."

Chu Wanning still ignored him. His face was still. As always, he had no reaction, but that didn't mean he wasn't aggravated and just not saying anything.

Mo Ran walked over. When he got closer, he saw the mess of bandages on Chu Wanning's shoulder. The cotton gauze was tied in several different ways. It looked like a group of crabs that were stuck together.

". . ."

Also, for a person who doesn't know how to wash his own clothes, can he really be trusted to treat himself?

Mo Ran sighed: "Shizun, don't be angry."

"Do I look angry?" Chu Wanning angrily responded.

Mo Ran: ". ."

After a long pause.

"Shizun, that's not how you wrap a bandage. . ."

He retorted unceremoniously: "You want you to teach me?"

Mo Ran: ". . ."

He raised his hand. He wanted to help Chu Wanning untie the gauze and wrap it again, but he was observant and felt that if he dared to touch him, he might end up with a lashing, so he hesitated.

He raised his hand then lowered it, and then raised it again, repeating the action several times. Chu Wanning was getting annoyed. He squinted at him: "What are you doing? Do you still want to fight me?"

". . ." He really wanted to fight him, but now wasn't a good time.

Mo Ran smiled sheepishly. Throwing caution to the wind, he suddenly reached over and grabbed his shoulders, dimples appearing at the corners of his mouth: "Shizun, let me help you re-bandage it."

Chu Wanning wanted to refuse, but Mo Ran's warm fingers had already wrapped around the bandage. His mouth felt dry and stiff. He couldn't speak, so his lips moved slightly but nothing came out.

The gauze was peeled off layer by layer. Blood had soaked through it, and when it was all torn back, the five holes were piercingly obvious and hideous.

Just looking at it, he shuddered. It was many times more serious than the would on Shi Mei's face.

Mo Ran didn't know what he was looking at. He was stunned, then suddenly asked softly: "Does it hurt?"

Chu Wanning lowered his long and slender eyelashes, and simply said lightly: "It's fine."

Mo Ran said: "I'll be gentle."

Chu Wanning didn't know what he was thinking, and suddenly his ear flushed a little red. As a result, he got angry with himself again. He thought he was going crazy. All day he had been thinking up such nonsensical thoughts. His expression grew stiff. His temper worsened, and he said dryly, "It's up to you."

The candlelight in the guest room flickered. In the dim light, he could see that he had completely missed some spots with the ointment. Mo Ran was honestly speechless. He thought it was a miracle that Chu Wanning was still alive and healthy today.

"Shizun."

"Hmm?"

"What happened to you today at the Chen house? Why did you suddenly lash out and hit someone?" He asked while applying some ointment.

Chu Wanning was silent for a while, then replied: "I was angry."

Mo Ran asked: "Why were you so angry?"

Chu Wanning didn't want to trouble his disciple, so he told Mo Ran a brief and concise version of Luo Xianxian's story. After Mo Ran listened to the story, he shook his head: "You're stupid. In this kind of situation, even if you're angry, you shouldn't confront them about it to their face. If it were me, I would've made a mess of things and lie to them that the ghost had been removed, and then pat their asses and leave, letting them fend for themselves. Just look at you making a scene over such a rotten man. You knew you probably wouldn't get through to him, and then you missed and wounded Shi Mei--"

Halfway through the sentence, Mo Ran abruptly stopped. He stared silently at Chu Wanning.

He tied the bandage carefully. He was a little forgetful and he was talking to Chu Wanning like he had when he was 32, pretty cheekily.

Chu Wanning obviously noticed. He squinted his eyes, looking coldly at Mo Ran. That look resembled a very familiar phrase - "See if I don't whip you to death."

"Uh. . ."

Before his brain had thought up a response, Chu Wanning has already begun speaking.

He said indifferently: "Is Shi Mingjing the one I wanted to fight?"

When Shi Mei was mentioned, Mo Ran's originally calm mental state started to shift and his tone hardened: "Isn't he the person you hit?"

Chu Wanning did regret hitting him, but he couldn't admit it. At this moment, his face was sullen and he didn't say a word.

Chu Wanning was the stubborn type. Mo Ran was the lovesick type. Their eyes meet and sparks crackled. The atmosphere that had just eased a little became hopelessly stagnant again.

Mo Ran said: "Shi Mei didn't do anything wrong. Shizun, you hurt him by accident. Don't you want to say that you're sorry?"

Chu Wanning narrowed his eyes dangerously: "Are you questioning me?"

". . . I'm not." Mo Ran paused. "I just feel bad that he got hurt but never got an apology from Shizun."

Under the candlelight, the handsome and youthful teenager finished wrapping the last bandage on Chu Wanning's wound and carefully tied a knot. It may have looked like the scene was quite warm, but the mood between them had changed. Especially Chu Wanning; his chest felt like a jar of vinegar had exploded in it. The feeling of sourness was overwhelming and he felt angry and annoyed.

Apologize?

How do you even spell that word? Who'll teach him how to write?

Mo Ran said: "It'll take half a year for the wound on his face to heal. When I gave him some medicine just now, he still told me not to blame you. Shizun, he doesn't blame you, but do you think that justifies what you did?"

This sentence was tantamount to adding fuel to the fire.

Chu Wanning had been enduring it but he finally couldn't hold it back. He suppressed his voice and muttered: "Get out."

Mo Ran: ". . ."

Chu Wanning exploded: "Get out!"

Mo Ran was forced out and the door slammed shut in his face, almost clamping his fingers. Mo Ran was furious. Just look at this! What kind of person was this? All this just to avoid apologizing? Such cherished and treasured pride. What was so difficult about saying sorry? All he needs to do is move his mouth. This Venerable One was the Emperor TaXian, yet this Venerable One didn't hesitate to apologize to others. As for the Beidou Immortal, half of his words were inexplicable, as if he had swallowed them. What a ridiculous temper!

No wonder no one cared about such a handsome face!

It was a waste of time. He deserved to stay single for the rest of his life!

Since Chu Wanning would rather ignore him and give him a closed-door to talk to, then of course the high and mighty cultivation emperor, the emperor of the human world, wouldn't lose any sleep over this. Although he was tenacious and as hard to get rid of as a piece of sticky candy, he stuck to Shi Mei, not his shizun.

He immediately left without a care and went to join Shi Mei.

"Why are you back so soon?" Shi Mei was in the midst of lying down to rest when he saw Mo Yan come in. He froze and sat up, long strands of ink hair hanging all over the place. "How's Shizun?"

"Very good. His temper is as strong as usual."

Shi Mei: ". . ."

Mo Ran brought over a chair and sat on it backwards. His hand rested on the back of the Taishi chair, a lazy smile hanging on the corner of his mouth. His gaze flicked across the appearance of Shi Mei's soft and long hair.

Shi Mei said: "Why don't I go and see him. . ."

"Don't think too much about it." Mo Ran rolled his eyes. "He's terrible."

"Did you make him angry again?"

"He needs someone to provoke him? He makes himself angry. I think he's made of wood considering he's so flammable."

Shi Mei shook his head, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

Mo Ran said: "Get some rest. I'll borrow the kitchen downstairs and make you some food."

Shi Mei said: "What's the fuss? You haven't closed your eyes all night. Aren't you going to sleep?"

"Haha, I am in good spirits." Mo Ran laughed. "But if you can't bear me leaving, I can stay with you for a while until you fall asleep."

Shi Mei hurriedly waved his hand and said warmly: "No, if you have to look at me like this, I won't be able to sleep either. You should go to bed early. Don't exhaust yourself."

The curvature in the corners of his mouth stiffened slightly. Mo Ran was a little sad.

Although Shi Mei treated him kindly, he always maintained such a distant attitude. It was the attitude of someone who was obviously close at hand, but as the moon in the mirror and the flower in the water, he could be seen but not obtained.

". . . Okay." In the end, he just tried to cheer up and laughed. Mo Ran's smile was very bright. When he wasn't completely evil, he was actually pretty silly and cute. "Call me if you need anything. I'm either right next door or downstairs."

"Okay."

Mo Ran raised his hand, wanting to touch his hair, but he held back. He spun his hand around in the air and scratched his head.

"I'm leaving."

Outside of the room, Mo Ran couldn't help but sneeze.

He sniffed.

Because Caidie Town produced incense, the price of all the different kinds of incense wasn't as expensive, so the inn wasn't stingy with it. Each room was lit with a long branch of special incense; one can ward off evil spirits, another can dehumidify, the last one can give the room a nice fragrance.

But as soon as Mo Ran smelled the incense, it made him uncomfortable. But if Shi Mei liked it, he would endure it.

Coming downstairs, Mo Yan wandered over to the innkeeper, slipped him a silver ingot. He squinted his eyes and said with a smile: "Innkeeper, do me a favour."

The innkeeper looked at the silver ingot and smiled more politely at Mo Ran: "What is this immortal gentleman's request?"

Mo Ran said: "I see that not many people come here to eat breakfast. I wanted to discuss that with you. I want to use the kitchen this morning. Please let the other guests know."

How much money would breakfast make him? It would probably be impossible to earn a silver ingot in half a month. The innkeeper immediately smiled and agreed, leading the swaggering Mo Weiyu into the kitchen of the inn.

"You want to cook by yourself? It's better to let the chef in our inn do it. He's very talented."

"No need." Mo Ran smiled. "Have you heard of the Jade Wine Building in Xiangtan?"

"Ah. . . Is that the famous music performance building that started getting popular more than a year ago?"

Mo Ran: "Yeah."

The boss took a peek outside and confirmed that his wife was busy and couldn't overhear. He snickered and said, "Who hasn't heard of it? It's the most famous restaurant on the Xiangjiang River. It used to have a lead musician there. It’s a pity it's so far away, otherwise, I'd want to listen to her play a song."

Mo Ran laughed: "Thank you for the compliment. I'll pass it onto her."

"Pass it on?" The innkeeper was puzzled. "Do you know her?"

Mo Ran said: "More than just know."

"Wow. . .You don't say? But you cultivators can be. . . well. . ."

Mo Ran interrupted him with a smile: "Other than the lead musician, do you know anything else?"

"Hmm. . . Their food was said to be a must."

The corners of Mo Ran's mouth curled higher and he smiled brighter. He skillfully picked up the kitchen knife and said: "Before I took up cultivation, I was a cook in the kitchen in the Jade Wine Building for several years. You said that your chefs make delicious dishes. Whose is better, theirs or mine?"

The innkeeper was even more shocked, and stammered out: "You're really. . . really. . ."

He couldn't get the words out.

Mo Ran gazed at him with narrowed eyes. His smile was barely holding back his smug and cocky demeanour: "You can leave. This chef is going to cook something."

The innkeeper didn’t know that he was talking to the former Lord of Darkness, and he put on a cheeky expression: “I've heard a lot about Jade Wine House's exquisite desserts. I wonder if you would let me have a bite once they're ready?"

He didn't think this was too high of a request. Mo Ran would definitely agree.

Who would've expected Mo Ran to squint his eyes and say with a smirk: "You want some?"

"Hmph!"

"Really?" Mo Ran snorted. He was bursting with pride. He scoffed: "You think I would cook for just anyone? This Venerable One is doing this just for Shi Mei. If not for him, I wouldn't even be lighting a fire to cook. . ."

He flipped a radish over and started to slice it, muttering.

". . ." The innkeeper slumped defeatedly. He rubbed his hands and stood there awkwardly. He halfheartedly chuckled at him then left.

He was also muttering to himself.

This Venerable One? For someone this young, his spiritual core hasn't even fully formed yet. He thought about his chatter and how he was probably referring to his elder sister disciple, but there was no female cultivator among the group who walked with him today.

The innkeeper rolled his eyes.

This person must be deluded.

Mo Ran stayed busy in the kitchen for several hours. It was almost noon when the work was finished, and he rushed upstairs to wake Shi Mei up.

When passing by Chu Wanning's room, he slowly came to a stop.

Should he ask if he wanted to eat together. . .

Thinking of Chu Wanning's harsh temperament, Mo Ran's heart skipped a beat, his face full of contempt.

No, no, no. He only had a few portions. There wasn't enough to share with him!

#2ha novel #2ha translation #2ha #the husky and his white cat shizun translation #the husky and his white cat shizun #english translation #chinese bl #chinese novel #bl novel #yaoi novel #yaoi #danmei novel #danmei #chu wanning #mo ran #ranwan

[does-this-look-logicality-to-you]

A Friend

words: 1636 universe: canon, for once characters: logan, patton; mentions of thomas, janus, remus, roman, and virgil pairings: platonic/pre-romantic logicality warnings: logan and patton angst, crying a/n: this idea came to me while i was laying in bed and absent-mindedly scrolling tumblr. out of nowhere, i suddenly shot up, opened discord, and declared to my friends, “y’know what? fuck canon. i think i’m gonna write a hurt-comfort fic where patton goes to logan after the most recent end card”. so. that’s what this is. is it in character? probably not. but it’s cute as hell, and that’s what matters.

They ignored me.

Again.

After all I’ve done for him. For all of them.

What did I do? I’ve never done anything to upset them, really. Nothing to make them hate me like they seem to. I’ve only ever wanted what’s best for Thomas. It’s my job. Why can’t he let me do it? Why can’t any of them let me do it?

“Logan?” A soft, worried voice sounded from outside his door. He could recognize that sweet, caring tone anywhere. Everything in him wanted to shut down, to not humor the other with a response. And yet…

“What?”

“Can I come in?”

No. You’re as bad as the rest of them. He pushed the thought away. He couldn’t let himself keep thinking these things. It would only pull him further and further into the darkness that he had done everything he could to stay away from. He couldn’t let him take over again.

“Logan? Are you still there?”

“... Yes. Come in.”

The door opened slowly and, sure enough, there was Patton. His expression was one of genuine worry, more than Logan had ever seen from him. Still, he couldn’t help but notice a forced smile on his face. He would never admit it, but he hated when Patton did this. He’d begun to notice this behavior from him more and more, which only added to his many worries— not only the ones about Thomas and his future, but about the other sides themselves. I can’t worry about them, he told himself. They lost that right when they stopped listening to me. No. Stop it. That’s exactly the kind of thinking that makes him stronger.

“Hey…” Patton began. “I… I heard about what happened today. With… With your schedule… and with Remus…”

“It didn’t bother me,” responded Logan simply. The lie tasted sour in his mouth, but he was used to that by now.

Patton carefully settled down on the edge of the bed. “You and I both know that’s not true. You can talk to me.”

“I’m talking to you right now, aren’t I?”

“That’s true… but I mean about today. I’m willing to listen.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.” Patton’s voice didn’t raise in the slightest bit. There was no anger on his face; only concern, no longer masked with his fake smile.

“I’m not going to bother you with my issues.”

“You’re not bothering me. I came to you.”

The two of them were quiet for a moment. Logan couldn’t find a good argument for that. He could yell at him to get out, to leave him alone, to ignore him like he always did, but that would be illogical. If there was one thing Logan wasn’t, it was illogical.

“It’s not good to keep these things inside. If you do, eventually it’s all gonna explode, and you’re gonna hurt yourself.” Patton’s voice was soft, even softer than before. “Please, tell me what’s going on in that brilliant brain of yours. I’m here to listen, Logan.”

Logan stayed silent for a few more seconds, before replying in a tone barely above a whisper. “Only if you talk to me, too.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m not the only one struggling. I know you’re having trouble, too.”

“I’m not gonna bother you with my problems.”

“You wouldn’t be bothering me if I asked for them. You said so yourself— it isn’t good to keep these kinds of things to yourself. If you don’t want me to ‘explode’”— He used finger quotes— “then… I don’t want you to either.”

Patton was quiet again for a couple seconds. “Okay. That’s fair.”

“Great.”

“You go first.”

Logan took a deep breath. He turned away from Patton, knowing that looking at the other as he spoke would likely discourage him from continuing. “I… I find it frustrating when Thomas doesn’t listen to me. Everything I do is for his own good, whether he likes it or not. I always find myself cast aside, in favor of the suggestions given by everyone else. Even Remus, to a point— although, instead of Thomas listening to him, I have to step in to stop him from doing so. I just… Is it silly of me to wish he would listen to me?”

“Absolutely not.” Patton’s immediate answer was a surprise to Logan. He hadn’t expected a response at all, let alone one so quick and resolute. “You’re his sense of Logic. You’re in charge of thinking of the most sensible thing to do in any given situation. Sure, Thomas shouldn’t always listen to you. But he shouldn’t completely disregard you, either. Balance is key.”

“I… thought I was the only one who thought that.”

“Good thing you told me, then, huh?”

Logan couldn’t stop a soft laugh from escaping his lips. Patton grinned, this time the authentic smile Logan knew and well.

“Honestly, I think Thomas should have listened to you today.”

This caught him completely off guard. “You do?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I thought you wanted Thomas to listen to his heart more.”

“Well, everyone should listen to their heart. But in that situation, Thomas was a lot better off listening to you. Now, don’t get me wrong, I don’t think he made the wrong choice going out with Nico today. And I know how hard Remus is to deal with. But, if things had been different, I think listening to your input would have really helped him. Of course, it’s not entirely his fault, but… if I’m being totally honest, he probably should have started listening to you from the beginning.”

Logan stared at him, shocked. “You… truly believe that?”

“I do. Truly. Even though I… don’t really show it sometimes.” He looked down guiltily, and Logan could tell he was thinking about earlier, when he had disregarded his input the same way the others did. “And I’m sorry. I really, truly am. I shouldn’t treat you like that.”

“No, I understand. I can be a drag more often than not. Roman never fails to remind me of that.”

“Well, I’ll talk to him about that.”

Logan tensed. “Please don’t. I… don’t want the others to get involved. In any of this. They have enough going on. Besides, he’s right. There’s no shame in me admitting that.” He turned back to look at Patton. “It’s your turn now.”

“Logan…”

“No, I upheld my end of the deal. Now it’s your turn.”

He hesitated, but then nodded. “You’re right. I’m not a liar. That’s Janus’s job.” Logan waited patiently as Patton took a deep breath. “I… gosh, my problems seem so silly compared to yours.”

“Maybe they do. But that doesn’t make them any easier to handle, does it?”

“No,” he admitted. “You’re right. Just give me a second.”

“Take your time.”

Patton took one last deep breath before beginning. “I just… I feel like all I do is hurt everyone around me. When was the last time I ever did something to help anyone? I turned into a giant frog and attacked Thomas! I attacked him! That’s not the kind of person I’m supposed to be! I’m supposed to be kind and understanding and helpful. But everything I do makes things worse. Sometimes…” A single tear fell from his eye. “Sometimes I feel like you all would do better without me.”

Logan was appalled by the very idea. “Nonsense. You are as essential to the group as any of us.”

“Am I? You’re Logic, so you could basically take over any of the right-or-wrong stuff. And the emotional part… I guess Roman and Virgil could split that. The point is, none of you really need me. I don’t do anything but cause problems.”

“That’s not true. Look, let me put it this way. Do you remember when Virgil ducked out, all that time ago?”

“Yeah…”

“Do you remember when we thought that would be a good thing? That not having him around would make Thomas an all-around better person?”

“I… Yeah, I do.”

“And do remember how wrong we were?”

“… I remember that too.”

“I thought you might. And it’s the same thing with you. You may think that you do nothing but harm to Thomas, and to the group as a whole, but that’s a lie, simple as that. Nobody could replace you. It… wouldn’t be the same.”

Patton’s eyes filled with hope mixed with something Logan didn’t recognize. Was it admiration? Gratitude? Something else he dare not even hope for? “I had no idea you thought that way.”

“Well, of-of course I do.” He flinched at himself when he stuttered. Stop it, stop it, stop it. You two are colleagues. Equals. Friends, maybe. But nothing more. Nothing at all.

Patton smiled at him, with more happiness and genuinity than Logan had ever seen, from him or anybody. He wished he could take a photograph of that smile, to look at whenever he felt like nothing was worth it anymore— a feeling that he got more often than he would ever admit. “Thank you, Logan. Really. I-I really needed to hear that.”

“Of course.” He gave a polite nod.

“Can I…?” Patton trailed off.

“Can you?” Logan prompted.

“Can I hug you? It’s okay if not, I know you’re not—”

“Sure.”

Patton looked surprised by his answer. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Go ahead.”

Patton threw his arms around him, pulling him close. Logan, taken by surprise, let him do this, gingerly putting his arms around his friend as he struggled for air. Patton, realizing this, loosened his grip just enough for Logan to breathe properly.

“Thank you, Logan…”

“You’re welcome, Patton.”

“No, seriously. I couldn’t have asked for as much support and… reassurance than what you’ve given me.”

Logan forced himself to swallow any feelings beyond those that were acceptable to feel in a platonic relationship. “That’s what friends do.”

#sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #ts logan #ts patton #logicality #platonic logicality #pre-romantic logicality #language #language tw #tw language #tw: language #crying #crying tw #tw crying #tw: crying

[welllpthisishappening]

But Once a Year (2/5)

This is a trick.

It has to be. Something Pan planned, or some nonsense only possible in Neverland, because one second Emma’s sitting outside the Echo Caves and wondering how exactly things could possibly get worse, and then the world decides to take her up on the challenge. She’s not where she was. Or when she was, either.

And the future isn’t entirely what Emma expects it to be, but that might not be entirely horrible and Christmas with a husband and a family that quite clearly loves her is only kind of messing with her head. God bless us, every one.

————

Rating: T Word Count: 9.1K which is also more than I remember writing. Which should probably be the subheadline of my life.  AN: Guys! All of you! Collectively! Separately! Thank you so much for your genuinely incredible response to this story that took on a life of its own. It’s very nice! You’re all very nice! More exclamation points! This time around we’ve got; a very discombobulated timeline, bedtime stories, peak!dad David, peak!dad Killian and f e e l i n g s. 

Also on Ao3 if that’s your jam || Or you can start from the start

————

“How did you figure it out?” He lifts his eyebrow. Only one, and exactly the same way he does in whatever part of time the real Killian Jones is lingering in, but the thought of this Killian Jones not being entirely real makes Emma’s stomach knot. Several times over. She can’t stop staring at his eyebrow. It’s off-putting. And the complete opposite of that. “Out?” Killian echoes. “Not when?” “No, no I figured you knew pretty much from the get, but—” Emma shrugs. Tries very hard not to fall off the kitchen counter. Which might actually be made of granite. 

God, maybe they’re legitimately rich. 

She can’t imagine what the mortgage on a house like this is. 

She can’t imagine there are actually mortgages in Storybrooke. 

“Were you thinking about going to get your sword? Because it seems shitty to challenge an unarmed person to a fight.” The eyebrow gets higher. Arch'ier. Pointier, even. “As you’ve already pointed out today, I am a pirate. And that’s not really an answer to my question.” “Or mine,” Emma challenges. “Are you not a pirate anymore, then?” “You know you’d make a rather atrocious spy, darling.” Sneering is decidedly juvenile and the only thing Emma is capable of doing in the moment. “You are dancing around any answer and—” “—Well, if you’re a time traveling, abysmal spy then it seems wrong to provide you with any more information than what you’ve already gleaned from your day here, doesn’t it?”

She deflates. 

Shoulders sag and exhaustion creeps up the wholly unnatural and very uncomfortable curve of Emma’s spine, fear tickling the back of her mind because Killian hasn’t actually made a single move towards the basement, but she’s only passably sure of where the basement is and the specific sort of glint in his eyes makes her even more confident that he wouldn’t mind brandishing his sword at her. 

Literally in this instance. 

“I’m not sure it’s time travel,” she mumbles, staring at a floor that is questionably clean if it does in fact belong to her. Maybe Killian cleans. “Fascinating.” “I’m not the bad guy here.” “Because I am?”

Her shoulders can’t sink any lower. They try all the same, shamed by the hitch in his breath and the tilt of his head, angled to make his hair drift across his brows and eyes that are as distracting as ever and far too easy to get swept up in and—

Emma swallows. 

Exhales. She doesn’t remember when she decided to hold her breath. 

“I don’t know,” she admits softly, barely able to move her lips and no one remembered to turn the Christmas tree off. Lights reflect off the ridiculous number of windows in the wall, painting streaks of color on paint that isn’t blue and shouldn’t remind anyone of a ball gown Emma knows she hasn’t worn yet, but it’s pretty all the same and she wonders why she wound up here. At this point. This moment. 

Killian might not be breathing either. 

“What do you know, then?” 

Emma bites her lip. Hard. “That one second I was somewhere else, and then I was—” Shaking her head does not help what is undoubtedly a migraine blooming behind her left eye, but she hasn’t fallen off the counter yet and she imagines victories are going to be few and far between, so it seems fair to cling to them as they pass by. Six of her knuckles crack when she grips the kitchen counter. “Waking up, and you were telling me we had to go get paint, and people were bowing to me.” “They don’t do that where you’re from.” “Not a question.” “No,” Killian agrees, which is a very strange way of doing that, “more like a documented point. You haven’t tried to attack anyone yet, though. So I suppose that’s at least one marker on the positive column.” “I’m not going to attack anyone!” Eyes flashing at the crack in Emma’s voice, Killian’s neck all but snaps as he glances over his shoulder. Towards a staircase, and she hasn’t spent too much time upstairs yet, but those same stairs are as empty as they were sixteen seconds earlier and the force of Killian’s exhale ruffles the ends of his hair. 

“If you wouldn’t mind being just a touch quieter,” he all but growls at her, spinning back around with far more grace than Emma thinks is entirely fair, “I’d really appreciate it. Takes her forever to fall asleep.” “Hope, you mean? Don’t I, well—don’t we or…” “I’d suggest you stop talking.”

“And you’re still avoiding my questions,” Emma accuses through clenched teeth. That only hurts her jaw. And the rest of her, really. She’s so tired, she can’t believe she’s still forming coherent sentences. Counting that as another marker in the positive column is probably a dick move. 

And the standoff that ensues over the next twenty-seven and two-thirds seconds is something in the realm of ridiculous. Clenching her jaw tight enough to crush a variety of diamonds, Emma resolutely refuses to blink, and Killian’s an ass, apparently, so he simply stares right back, while his shoulders heave on every inhale. 

She doesn’t know what to say. Has no idea what string of words will convince this relative stranger, who still feels like someone who could potentially be hers in an overwhelming sort of way, that she’s not a threat and wouldn’t do anything to hurt that kid upstairs. Not when that kid did her own bit of staring at Emma all evening, like she was the sun and the moon, and a variety of constellations and—

Killian drags a hand over his face. Leaves red streaks in his wake, twisting the skin on his cheeks and the stubble there doesn’t move because it can’t, but Emma’s admittedly starting to teeter again. In more ways than one, really. 

The crinkles around his eyes are deeper. As if he’s used to laughing and smiling, and Hope had clung to him on their walk home. 

There’s that word again. 

Doing something silly to Emma’s heart. 

“I know you’re not going to attack anyone,” he sighs, “although I don’t really know if you’re in a position to demand I tell you anything, either.”

“What if we call it a request?” His lips twitch, fighting off the smile Emma can see tugging at his mouth and it’s definitely wrong to find any confidence in that. Charming a guy who’s already married and procreating with a different version of her shouldn’t be regarded as another victory. 

She’s going to do it anyway. 

“Tell me who you are, then.” “I’m—” Grunting hurts Emma’s throat, both of her elbows threatening to damage her ribs when she flails her hands. “I’m me. Just—” “—Not mine?” “Oh, that’s decidedly possessive.” Humming, Killian’s nod is barely that. More like a quick jerk of his chin and swipe of his tongue across the front of his teeth. She’s got to stop staring at his mouth. “Aye, it might be. I am having some difficulty wrapping my head around this, though. So you’ll have to forgive me.” Emma scoffs. Nearly laughs, really — which is as surprising as it is nice, and nothing about this can be nice. On principle. Her body doesn’t seem to care, and her heart certainly cares even less, and it’s still a struggle to rationalize this version of Killian with the one she left, but there are far more similarities than her brain is able to process quite yet and that same dark and distant part is very quick to point out she’d like to. 

No matter where she might be sitting.

If she’d let herself. 

“You can feel my magic?”

Killian nods. “Usually.” “What does that mean? It doesn’t always work?” “I—” Gritting his teeth only shows off how frustratingly straight there are, and at some point she’s going to ask about that. Pirates don’t get braces, after all. “I’d rather not disrupt all of time by telling you things you don’t already know.” “I don’t know anything,” Emma argues, trying very hard not to scream the words. And only sort of succeeding. 

“Did you fall into a portal?” “Are you fucking with me?” Killian glares at her again. “I’d advise very strongly that you answer the question, Swan.”

“Or what? You’ll legitimately go get your basement sword? Why do you keep your sword in the basement, anyway? Aren’t there—I mean, a monster a week in Storybrooke, right?” His goddamn fucking tongue is going to be the death of her. Sooner or later, Emma is positive. Shifting and poking at the side of his cheek, and she can hear the gears again, trying to place the few clues she’s given him with a life he’s already lived and it is absurd that she even thought the word clues. 

“Not in quite some time,” he admits, and Emma’s mind leaps. Back to conversations and knights and realm-borders. She needs a map. Or Regina, God help her. “That’s not the point, though. It’s—” Another head shake and hair movement, and pinching the bridge of his nose only makes it ten-thousand times easier to see the ring on his finger.

There are a lot of Christmas lights in this house. 

“You’re not someone else,” Killian finishes softly. 

“Disappointing, I know.” His head moves so quickly it’s hardly more than a semi-dark blur of hair and slightly pained eyes. Both of which make Emma very glad for her spot on the counter. If she had been standing, she would have fallen over. In a rather undignified heap. 

“No,” Killian exhales as the magnets make a glorious return. He crowds into her space before she’s entirely ready for it. Although that also suggests Emma would ever be ready for the way his face has twisted and how ridiculously warm he continues to be, the hand that’s already resting on her knee threatening to burn straight through her jeans. “Strange,” he adds, clenching his fingers when Emma flinches, “and possibly a little terrifying, since—” “—Your Emma has disappeared entirely.” He grins. It’s disarming, and inching closer to the kind of flirting they’d been dancing around before and Emma’s got to get off this dancing metaphor kick. She’s not a good dancer, anyway.  “No portal, right?” “No portal,” she confirms. “And I’m not entirely convinced this isn’t a very lucid dream, so.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. 

She realizes that about halfway through the sentence. Any hint of camaraderie or déjà vu-based flirting disappears from Killian’s face and immediately shifts into the same brand of pain that came when she called him Hook. 

Biting her lip is really Emma’s only option.

“You don’t think this is real,” he whispers, another statement she doesn’t feel the need to point out. Shrugging, Emma’s vocal chords fail her again, and the step Killian takes away from her resembles a rather large chasm. 

Grand Canyon-esque. 

“We’re back to things I don’t know,” Emma says, “but um—do we have other kids? Aside from Hope, I mean? I—” Heat rises in her cheeks, the weight of the compliment threatening to burst out of her both foreign and necessary and Killian doesn’t do anything. Well, he lifts his eyebrows again, but that’s something like second nature to him and Emma refuses to count it and his fingers find the back of his hair. 

Huh. 

“Henry,” he replies.

“And you’re counting Henry? As—” Her tongue is really going to become a problem, if it’s going to remain this size in her mouth. “As your kid too?”

Strictly speaking, Emma’s not sure she actually wants an answer. Can only imagine what her emotions will do if she hears the confirmation that’s quite obviously pressing behind the seams of Killian’s mouth, but that confirmation might also prove several thousand things that have been at war in her for far longer than she’d ever be willing to admit, and he nods once. 

“In all the ways that matter,” Killian says. “And Neal is…” Shaking his head, all Emma gets is another smirk as soon as she huffs out her frustration, but the frustration is also kind of lacking when it feels like her whole body is running on overdrive and there’s no way he could fake the emotion behind those words. Even in a dream-like state. She’s not creative enough to come up with that particular voice inflection. 

“How’d you know?” she presses. “Honestly?” “Aside from your rather startling inability to act like yourself?” “Yeah. Aside from that.”

Stairs creak behind them, a not-quite ominous warning that this conversation has lasted longer than it should and there’s a kid of indeterminate age demanding to be put back to bed just out of sight. Emma should figure out how old her kid is. 

Hopefully that won’t ruin the space-time continuum, either. 

“You’ve got this lovely habit of calling me babe,” Killian drawls, leaning close enough that Emma swears she can smell him. Wishful thinking, maybe. “And I can’t remember the last time you called me Hook.”

He flashes her another grin — reminiscent of a man who is not this one, and then he’s gone, scooping up the kid and muttering promises against her hair, and Emma never knows how long she spends sitting on the kitchen counter. 

She does creep, eventually. 

Curiosity gets the better of Emma the longer she sits there, waiting without much hope for Killian to return. He’s not going to. She knows that. There’s only so many times he can come back, and this is a totally different thing than it was before, but it's also a perfect segue to the other reason she hopes off the counter. Her overall discomfort. Literally, and metaphorically. Marble, it seems, is a very fancy stone and good for the kitchen counters some alt-version of her eventually owns, but it also starts to dig into the back of her knees and those knees are bent kind of weird and in the grand scheme of where she wants to look again, inching up the stairs to peer through the barely closed door of Hope’s room is a much more appealing prospect than a basement that apparently houses weapons. 

So, Emma doesn’t spend too long thinking of the pros and cons, or how she should really be creeping towards the room of someone who might understand magic and why she’s here. Instead, she winces slightly on the creaky step halfway up the staircase and does her best to stay in the shadows, but these shadows aren’t quite as terrifying as they were in the realm she’s only just recently teleported from and that probably doesn’t mean a whole lot. 

He’s reading her a story. 

Captain Hook, terror of several storybook seas and probably a few Emma isn’t aware of, just to drive home the confusion point, sits propped up against a mess of pillows with his sock-covered feet stretched out in front of him, and curls pushed up against his side, a book balanced precariously on one thigh and she really would make the world’s worst spy. She hadn’t noticed the empty brace at the end of his arm. 

That’s never happened before. 

Honestly, she wasn’t even entirely sure it was possible, which is total asshole territory and maybe she’ll just collapse. Right here in the hallway. The carpet looks almost plush, so it might not be the worst move. 

And trying to memorize the look of it only feels like a half-dick'ish move, if only because the lack of a hook does sort of confirm the overall safety of this place, and Emma figures that outweighs whatever scene she’s interrupting. Or trying not to, as it were. 

Knotted scars line his skin, some of them looking older than others and that makes a few more of Emma’s internal organs flip. Something that feels a bit like anger rises in the back of her throat, an unexpected emotion that isn’t really directed at anyone except the people who caused those scars and that pain and he looks comfortable. 

Now, at least. 

Even slouched as he is against pillow cases that are far too frilly and remind Emma far too much of her mother. She keeps documenting. Lets her eyes trace over every inch of Killian — the way his fingers fluttering mindlessly against Hope’s back, brushing away strands of hair with the kind of ease that makes it clear this is a regular occurrence. His shoulders aren’t as taut as they were in the kitchen, but his head lolls towards the side more than once as fatigue starts to color his gaze. 

The story has princesses in it. Well, one princess. On a rather expansive adventure, if Emma’s actually keeping up with the plot. Dropped into a place she’s unfamiliar with, the princess in question naturally has a dashing love interest — although his name is Charles, so...maybe not all that dashing — and they get into several more adventures. Which include, but apparently are not limited to; taverns, a ridiculous amount of flirting, interactions with pirates, kissing as a distraction, the last of which endlessly entertains Hope, and the overall force of the little girl’s laugh makes Emma’s breath hitch, but then there’s more to the story and of course there’s a ball. More royalty, too. Obstacles are faced, only to be immediately overcome and Emma’s smile happens without any thought to the overall inappropriate nature of it. 

“And,” Killian says, shaking his head until his nose grazes Hope’s hair, “the exceptionally dashing prince took on the guards single-handedly, telling the princess to go and get the treasure they’d been looking for. While—” “—’Feating all of them, right?” Hope exclaims. As much as it’s possible to exclaim while also sounding half asleep. 

“In dramatic fashion. There was quite a lot of spinning involved. Made his jacket look all the more impressive. Fluttering tails and whatnot.”

Eyes flicker towards Emma’s garbage hiding spot, and she’s still not breathing correctly, so the odds aren’t very good he heard her, but she’s wondered more than once if he doesn’t just have a sixth sense when it comes to her and possibly them, and she pulls her lips behind her teeth. 

“What happened after that?” 

Most of Hope’s question comes out as a singular word, Killian’s soft laugh both indulgent and decidedly parental and he kisses her once before muttering, “Nuh uh, you’ve already gotten more story than you should, and you’ve got to get some rest.” “But I—”

Shaking his head once is all it takes for silence to descend on the room, although it does come with a slight pout and that’s—weird, it’s weird. Watching her own facial expressions reflect back to her from a kid she didn’t know existed a few hours earlier is more than enough to send Emma reeling. Wobbly knees shake underneath her, retreating in just enough time to not look totally suspicious as Killian mumbles something else and closes the door behind him, and she might have been right about the eye thing. 

They practically fly towards her. 

And the wall that was far closer than Emma anticipated. Hitting her head on it hurts more than it usually would, she imagines. 

“Truly,” he says, “an absolutely Gods awful spy.” “Was that supposed to be plural? On the Gods, I mean?” Tilting his head is the only response Emma gets, and she can’t blame him for that. For anything, really. “Does that happen a lot? The, uh—the stories.”

Silence. 

Relatively speaking. There’s the distinct sound of disgruntled kid on the other side of the other side of the door, what Emma figures are four flailing limbs as it appears Hope is determined to beat her half a dozen pillows into submission. 

Little sea monster makes a bit more sense now. 

“I do that too.”

Fatigue disappears. To make room for the invisible two-by-four that settles between Killian’s shoulder blades, shifting them until his spine is ramrod straight and he’s staring at Emma like that was the most obvious statement in the history of the world. 

“I’m well aware,” he says, but his voice drops, gruffer than it’s been all day. She’s going to bite both her lips in half. 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s—makes sense, I guess. I, um—” No one actually told her to take her boots off, but Emma might have assumed, and the carpet does feel soft. Through her socks, at least. While she tries to dig a hole into the ground with her toe. So she can fall into it. “Seemed like a popular story.” “Aye, it is. Big fan of sword fights.”

“Ah, well, when they’re full of dashing princes who wouldn’t be?”

It’s another thoughtless sentence. One that makes Killian’s tongue shift and then his mouth shift and Emma only stares at that for a few seconds before her eyes drop to his arm and his wrist and—

He twists his arm. Behind his back. 

Her inability to dig a hole with her foot is genuinely disappointing. 

“A question for the ages,” he says. “What are the other ones, then?” “Excuse me?” “I cannot keep telling you how badly you mask your expressions. It seems redundant. So while I also can’t imagine getting too much information will be good, you’ve obviously got questions. As do I, if we’re being honest.” “Are we being honest?”

The lack of sword belt — or actual pants — makes it all the more absurd when he leans forward, thumb hooking into the top of the sleepwear he’s got on, and Emma’s fairly proud of her ability to not linger on that particular thing. Less so in her ability to temper the butterflies in her stomach as soon as Killian leans forward. 

Directly into her space. 

He must radiate heat. 

“I’ve never been anything except entirely honest with you, love,” Killian says, and there’s no way to doubt those words or that voice and Emma hasn’t. Ever, actually. 

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“Eventually you really do believe it.” Blood hits her tongue — sharp and absolutely disgusting, threatening to make her retch in the middle of the hallway. Only marginally better than her hole idea. By some miracle, sent from an apparently merciful God, Emma manages to take a deep breath, jutting her chin out and meeting Killian’s almost cautious gaze with a determination of her own. 

The kind that sends magic shooting down her arms, and directly into the tips of her fingers. His eyes widen. 

“That’s never been the problem. It’s—” They’ve got to stop cutting themselves off. Sentences that hang without end will torment Emma for the foreseeable future, but the muscles in her neck are going to seize up if she doesn’t twist them, and Killian’s fingers tense at his side when her hair moves. Like he wants to brush it away from her face. “Where’d the tree come from?” “Anton.”

“No.” “Swan, we just proclaimed honesty and now you’re—” “—Don’t know if it was a proclamation,” Emma grumbles, but Doc did call her your highness before so maybe she wields that kind of power now. Killian’s lips tilt up. 

Finding something else to stare at should be number one on the list of things Emma needs to be doing. Desperately. 

“Aye, that usually requires your mother’s seal anyway.”

“My mom? Why would...isn’t Regina mayor of this town?”

Exhaling through his teeth is oddly attractive. “Not as such, no.” “Huh.” “That’s about the right reaction. But to get back to your original question—” Emma sticks her tongue out, Killian’s laugh soaring out of him. Directly into her. It feels that way, at least. Warmth blooms between her ribs, another pulse of magic she resolutely ignores in favor of watching his shoulders shake and his eyes crinkle and it would be very easy. All of it. Is, currently. If she’s being honest with herself.  

That’s a problem.  

“You’re a picture of maturity,” Killian murmurs. 

“Well, depending on who you ask, I either got tugged through time, or I’m being tormented in my dreams and—what?” His eyes have gone very thin. “Tormented, is it?” “That was a shitty choice of words.” Humming, Killian’s eyes move anywhere but Emma’s face, and the regret in her gut is like a black hole and dying star and several other space-based puns she does not understand at all. All she knows is what a mess this is becoming, and she’s been a mess for as long as she can remember so that’s all the excuse she needs, hands moving on a mix of want and instinct that she’ll let herself over analyze later. 

He doesn’t flinch. 

For another moment, it feels like he’s going to do something drastic. Parting his lips, Emma hears his exhale, the quick flick of his tongue making her toes curl and her fingers tighten, and she wants to run. That’s her schtick. She can’t. She’s rooted to the spot and this carpet, and there’s nowhere to go really. 

Getting back to Neverland already seems impossible. 

“He’s very happy here,” Killian says, and it takes her a second to realize they’re talking about a giant again. “Has been for years. Grows all sorts of stuff, and you didn’t see the Christmas tree your parents have, but it’s ridiculously massive. Apparently there’s some sort of giant-type gene that helps with that.”

“Well, yeah of course.”

Whatever sound he makes isn’t the laugh Emma selfishly wants it to be, but the air that finds her cheek is warm and his left arm isn’t behind his back anymore. “You can take the bed.”

“What?” “We do have a bed, love.” “Yeah, but—” “—Very gallant of me, I know,” Killian quips, stepping away from Emma and the moment and she can’t believe the moment included talk of a giant growing Christmas trees. Somehow that’s almost comforting. “But it’ll be fine, and well if you’re going to talk to Regina tomorrow—” “—You think I should talk to Regina?” “Don’t you?” Nodding hurts. Standing hurts. The whole thing’s ridiculously melodramatic. “Probably,” Emma admits. “Um, but...maybe on my own?”

She’ll never admit to wanting an objection — this isn’t her life, or her Killian, but it also feels wrong to claim any Killian, and this constant flipping between emotions is going to snap her skull in half. “Whatever you think is best,” he says. “Two doors down on the left.”

“Ok, thanks.”

Nodding again, Killian gives her a barely-there smile before moving back towards the stairs he only sort of rushes down. That one step creaks again. 

Sleeping doesn’t happen. 

Emma didn’t think it would, but it’s disappointing and frustrating all the same. Her muscles ache, practically begging her for unconsciousness, but every time she closes her eyes all she can see is Killian’s face and the space between them and she’s got to get back to Neverland. 

Soon. 

Emma’s got to fix this. 

No one’s at Regina’s house. 

Waiting until everyone left her own house is something of a massive copout, and using that particular possessive makes Emma feel like a liar, but she couldn't bring herself to get off the bed until the front door slammed shut and she wasted quite a lot of time sitting on the mattress. 

Also very comfortable, despite the distinct lack of sleep it witnessed. 

So, it shouldn’t come as much of a surprise when no one answers Emma’s rather pointed knocks. Or the few kicks she levels at Regina’s front door, just to be sure. All that does is make the wreath hanging out front wobble precariously. “God, fucking—” Snowflakes land on Emma’s face when she tilts her head up, as if the gods she’s challenging are responding. She’s still a little caught on the polytheistic. “Alright, alright, where would she go?”

“Emma?” Spinning, she doesn’t wobble at all — a testament to Regina’s salting regiment for her front steps, and the blonde twenty-something with impressively thick glasses who called her name far too easily grins far too quickly. “What are you doing out here?”

There’s no hint of confusion to her question. At least not in regards to who Emma is. She’s obviously surprised to find her standing there, though, and nothing about her is familiar. 

“I’m looking for Regina. Do you know where she might be?”

“Yeah, of course. She went into the office early this morning, said she had to deal with the knights situation and magic acting up and—” “—Magic is acting up?”

“Didn’t Uncle David tell you?”

“No,” Emma shakes her head, already moving because there are only so many offices in this town and it’s got to be the same one. It isn’t until she makes it back to Main Street that her mind catches up with titles, but then the woman is jogging up the stairs of town hall and swinging open doors and Emma’s jaw drops. 

At the “Regina Mills, Queen of the Combined Realms” etched in glass in front of her. 

“You coming?” this nameless person asks, jerking her head towards the office and at least the wallpaper is the same. Emma gives a jerky nod, willing herself to step forward, but it’s shaky going at best and Regina is on the phone. 

The buzzing in her ears makes it difficult to hear the conversation, but Emma picks up the gist. Magic, and knights and the sound of her dad’s vaguely frantic tone, while Regina sighs at regular intervals, rolling her eyes occasionally as well. 

“Aunt Gina,” the woman hisses, slumping into the closest chair. Sliding a small handful of bills across her desk, Regina widens her eyes meaningfully, not bothering to cover the receiver before she mutters—

“Only what was on the list, ok? Henry’s stuff is already taken care of, don’t let Doc try and swindle you.”

She gives a crisp salute, Emma’s mind practically tripping over itself because that’s like a slap to her entire being and the sanity she’s only just clinging to at this point. “I’ll sic Killian on him, if he even tries,” she promises, leaning across the desk to kiss Regina’s cheek before breezing out of the office with a quick “see you later, Emma.”

Emma doesn’t move. 

And Regina hangs up on David. 

“Well,” she says, somehow dragging the word out until it sounds like those royal decrees Killian was talking about, “here you are, then.” “Should practice your surprised face.”

Gasping as dramatically as possible, Regina widens her eyes and jerks back, making her chair squeak on its wheels. Her hand flies to her chest, and the necklace that hangs over her shirt. It looks a bit like an arrow. “How was that?” “My dad called you.” “Probably two seconds after you left the farm. So,” she props her chin on her palm, “time travel, is it? You fall in another portal?”

Blinking as quickly as she is makes it difficult for Emma to stumble into the chair only recently vacated by that girl, but she manages somehow. And doesn’t twist anything in the process. Victories, she’s claiming all of them. “How many time-altering portals are there?” “Only one that I’m aware of, but you also didn’t answer my question and I don’t think you can alter something that hasn’t happened for you yet.” “Because this is the future.”

“Frankly?” “You’re going to do it either way,” Emma grumbles, Regina’s sneer not quite as challenging as she expects it to be. 

“Nothing is ever set in stone, not really. Which is why you can appear here. We're...a possibility for you at this point. So, no—I’m not sure you can destroy yourself with knowing. With staying, for sure, but—” “—Wait, what?”

Regina’s fingers flutter against her cheek. “When did you come from?

“Not here.” “Obviously.”

Slumping further into the chair, Emma’s knees nearly slam into her chest. It’s definitely an arrow around Regina’s neck. “Neverland,” she says, “we’d just left the Echo Caves and you’d gone off with Gold somewhere.” “Rumor has it you met Ariel.” “Is that seriously who that was?” Regina nods. Emma exhales. Loudly. “Ok, ok, well—” Recounting the rest isn’t as hard as she expects it to be, details flowing out of Emma like some other water joke she’s not willing to make and Regina doesn’t interrupt. Occasionally her hand drifts back towards the necklace, but Emma chooses to ignore that as well and her mouth is only sort of dry by the time she’s done. 

And then Regina purses her lips. 

Which speaks volumes, without actually saying words. She says words too. “A giant plant. That crawled out of the ground and—” “—Ok, I never once said it was giant, just that it exploded out of the ground.” “It’s not much better.” “Killian can feel my magic here.” “Yuh huh.”

Lifting both her hands in what Emma can only hope is obvious frustration and soon-to-be-resolved confusion, Regina doesn’t look all that impressed. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Emma demands. “Is that a normal thing? I—as far as I know he can’t in Neverland.” “Well, normal is in the eye of the beholder, really, but have you ever actually asked the captain if he can feel your magic?” “Why would I—did you just call him captain? Are you and Killian friends now?” Clicking her tongue, Regina makes a noise that’s neither confirmation nor objection. “I’m not supposed to be here. This isn’t—none of this is real.” “Ah, that’s actually a little rude.” “How did this happen, then?” Another noise. More guttural that time, and Emma hopes it hurts the inside of Regina’s throat. She’s feeling a little vindictive. No one’s explained the Unified Realms concept to her yet, that’s why. “I’ve got several working theories, some people who would know far more about Neverland’s vegetation and what its capable of than I would, and the deep-burning desire to know whether or not you told Killian about the plant.”

The gods are clearly feeling particularly charitable to Emma right now. All things considered, she feels like she deserves that. 

And she doesn’t fall out of the chair. 

“Do you think he remembers this? If I disappeared in Neverland, but he still married me here...God, that’s weird to say.” “Is it, though?’ Regina challenges, scrunching her nose like this is a conversation they can have.

“Why are you also being so goddamn weird?” “Time travels a funny thing. Lots of twists and turns, and potential pitfalls. And I’m not being weird, this is who I am now.” “Huh.” “Make it sound less like an insult next time,” Regina advises. “But I do think you’re right, you need to leave this part of the timeline. It’ll fall apart otherwise.” “You say so calmly.” “I’m almost very confident in your abilities.” “Almost,” Emma echoes, fully prepared for the snark-filled grin that gets her. Flames flicker between Regina’s fluttering fingers, not the first time that’s happened, but it usually only happens in times of particularly high stress and for as even-keeled as the so-called queen is acting, Emma knows at least part of it is a facade. “What happened with the knights? Also, shouldn’t knights from Camelot be under Arthur’s rule?” “That’s a whole other story. One your husband could recount much better than me.” “He’s not my husband.” “Not yet, I suppose.” Grimacing makes it harder to pull a breath in, but Emma’s butterflies make a triumphant return and the coffee maker was still on when she got downstairs. That might not be the coincidence she wants it to be. “The knights,” Emma demands, “what’s their deal?” “Nefarious, it seems. Which isn’t usually how they operate, and is wholly against the law.” “Of your kingdom?” Maybe Regina and Killian are friends. She’s much better at arching her eyebrow now. “Something like that. Anyway, the knights are here, without the proper paperwork, because they claim magic has been acting strangely in Camelot. And they’ve tracked it to our forest. What that magic is doing that’s so strange appears to be some sort of state secret, but Snow’s got a bird on it, so maybe we’ll find out eventually.” “That keeps happening.” “The fleeting nature of a bird’s attention span?”

Emma rolls her eyes. “Is she not Mary Margaret, anymore?”

The flames disappear, Regina sitting up a little straighter like they’ve finally delved into the serious part of this conversation, and whatever’s churning in Emma’s gut is a bit like regret. “Not in the way you’re thinking.” “How am I thinking about it, then?” “As someone who still hasn’t found Henry in Neverland yet.” “Sounds like we do.” “Not something you ever should have doubted.” “I don’t,” Emma says, only kind of a lie because she still can’t really shake her worry and her fear has always been such a strong part of her; the concept of letting that go is as terrifying as anything else. The coffee had been good that morning. “Why this spot? I mean—if I was going to get tugged to any point in my timeline, Christmas in Storybrooke seems a little out of left field, don’t you think?”

Regina considers that for a moment, drumming her still-flameless fingers on her vaguely imposing desk. “Honestly? Seems like a test.” “Of what?” “You, obviously.” “Speaking English, Your Highness.” “Majesty,” Regina corrects, sliding away from the desk so she can stand up and rest her palms on it and Emma’s eyes nearly roll into the back of her head. “And you’re being obtuse on purpose. I understand, but it’s—well, it’s only going to get more annoying, for both of us. The point is, games were part of Neverland. Tricks and sleight of hand, making you believe something that wasn’t there because that belief fueled the place. Belief’s even stronger for you, Emma. Because of what you are, and what you’ve done. Or will do, I guess.” “No pressure.” “Some, but—you’re distracting me. That’s still an unconfirmed theory.” “What is the point, then?” “The point,” Regina repeats archly, “is that pulling you out of Neverland, away from a place that made you feel like the Lost Girl you believe you are, turns this into something of a Utopia. Home, and safety. When’s the last time you celebrated Christmas?” “Never?” “See, everything you’ve ever wanted all tied up and—” “—I don’t want to be married to Hook.”

Disbelief colors every inch of Regina’s face, the sound of her laugh far more evil than she’s been all morning. “You’re an awful liar, Emma Swan. No matter what you do, and all you’ve ever been able to do is make eyes at the pirate.” “I don’t make eyes.” “Don’t worry, he does too. Even now, which is romantic if you like that sort of thing.” “The point, Regina.”

She grins. “You’re being offered a choice. Here, or there. Past or possible future. It’s a dangerous option, Emma, and one you can’t give into, no matter how much you might want.”

Finding her dad is far easier than Regina. 

Emma’s feet drift down the path towards the farm, boots squelching in the snow, but none of the moisture gets to her socks and the screen door opens before she can think about knocking. 

“Would have been offended if you had,” David says, pulling her against his chest and answering a question she didn’t have a chance to ask. It’s the hand that does it though. Cupping the back of Emma’s head, there’s something inherently safe about the whole thing, her cheek scrunched and her eyes stinging with more unshed tears and the first whimper she lets out is so goddamn depressing she can’t believe it came from her. 

“It’s ok, it’s ok,” David chants. Over and over, pressing the promise into her hair and her temple, the bridge of her nose once Emma finally lifts her head, and the slight jut of her chin because she’s nothing if not consistently stubborn and falling apart feels like failure. 

“C’mon, we’re going to sit down,” David continues, already directing Emma back into the hallway. And through the hallway. Past more pictures, and this couch looks even more comfortable than the one she’d woken up on, and she’d been right about her mother’s taste in pillows. An excess of frill. 

“Was I that obvious that you had to immediately call Regina yesterday?" David shrugs, lifting his arm in unspoken invitation. Emma slings her legs over his when she moves, the flannel now under her cheek oddly comforting. As is the kiss she feels pressed to the crown of her head. “A little,” he chuckles, “but mostly it was Killian’s blatant freakout.” “He wasn’t freaking out. At least not here.” “He was. Not loudly, maybe. But obviously. And you looked at Hope like you’d never seen her. That also kind of freaked out your mom.” “How old is she?”

Emma doesn’t bother being anymore specific. She knows she doesn’t have to — not when her dad’s arm tightens around her shoulders, and she wishes she’d come here first, if only to help keep her balanced on the precarious edge of lingering sanity, and she’s got absolutely no idea where Killian went. She should ask about that too. “Four.” “Shit. That’s—shit.” Another chuckle and second kiss, and David has to shift slightly to make sure Emma’s elbow doesn’t impale his side. “Reasonable response, really. Anything else?” “About a million and two things,” Emma admits, with enough acid in her voice to do permanent damage to the atmosphere. Making science-jokes is apparently a coping device now. “Regina thinks it’s a test. Of whether or not I really will leave, when given some sort of idyllic future.” “Well you’re not a selfish asshole, so I’m sure you’ll do what you have to.” “Kinda blunt, Dad.”

It’s not the first time she’s used that word — but titles have been thrown around in enough conversations already, and Emma’s really very wobbly on her metaphorical cliff and she wants something. Solid and dependable and she refuses to acknowledge how Killian might be both. Is definitely both. 

In any version of this life. 

“Kinda,” David agrees, “but the knights showed up when you did, and I don’t know if that’s a coincidence. There have been reports coming into the station, too. Stuff feeling out of whack across the realms—” “—How many realms are there, exactly? Is Regina in charge of all of them?”

“There was something of an election.” “For a queen?” “We’re a very progressive united coalition.”

“And you’re what? Prince of that?” David makes a contrary noise, and it takes longer than Emma expects to detail the hierarchy of this realm, but she understands why her mom would need to make royal decrees now and why people keep bowing to her and— “So that makes Killian a prince,” Emma says, pleasantly surprised to realize she does not in fact die when her heart explodes. Or when she realizes that some parts of that bedtime story may actually be based in reality. 

She kind of wants to see him spin in the middle of a sword fight. 

“Tell him that,” David suggests. “I’m sure he’ll enjoy it.” “Makes me think he won’t.” “Sometimes people bow to him, just to see what he’ll do.” “Challenge them to a duel?” “Nah, that’d mean he has to get his sword and that’s a whole thing. Plus, he’s got stuff to do in the station and there’s a fair bit of sailing involved.” “He keeps his ship?” Emma asks, sharper than she intends because something’s fluttering at the back of her brain and it’s big and important and she’s got absolutely no idea why. “And did you just say station?” David hums. “Doesn’t like wearing the badge though. Which I think is an affront to the position of deputy, but—” She nearly hits his chin. Jerking her head up, Emma’s eyes widen quickly enough that they also water and her dad might be the asshole here because he doesn’t do anything except smile knowingly at her. “You’re happy here, Emma,” he says, “after everything. And there’s a lot of everything, but it ends eventually. Gets the happily ever after it deserves, that both of you deserve. Although he’s a merciless cheat in Monopoly, drives me nuts every Christmas.”

It’s not a laugh. Not really. Sagging forward, air flies out of Emma’s lungs and her very dry lips, and that second thing is because she keeps breathing out her mouth, and trying to piece together a puzzle she wasn’t all that interested in finishing before. Now it’s all she wants, desperate to see what the picture is, and it’s probably very pretty. 

A covered bridge, or an oceanscape or something. Thomas Kinkaid, maybe. And part of her hears the warning, knows all too well that she’s already failing the test, but the rest of her absolutely does not care. 

“Are you really here, or is that some kind of trick my mind came up with because you’re actually stuck in Neverland?” David kisses her nose. “Here. And for the time being, so are you. Which means you can sleep.”

“Mind reading isn't one of your talents, as far as I knew.” “I get better at it,” he promises, tugging an exceptionally soft blanket off the back of the couch and Emma doesn’t put up much of a fight before resting her head on his shoulder and promptly falling asleep. 

There are lights on in half a dozen windows when David’s new — at least as far as Emma’s concerned — truck comes to a stop in front of her absolutely massive house, and she’s got to get out. Easier said than done, particularly with trembling fingers and obviously fluttering curtains in that one bay window, and it takes no less than four tries for her to undo her seatbelt,

“It’s going to be fine” David says again, “no matter what happens.” “Even with magic being weird?” “We’re not sure that’s entirely your fault.”

Scoffing, Emma tries very hard to believe that. No one’s updated them on the location of the bird. She kind of hates this bird. Possibly all birds, really. “Sure it’s not. So, what—I’m just supposed to go back into this stupidly large mansion and—” “—Wouldn’t all mansions be large?” David interrupts. “By default?” “Did we rob a bank to pay for this?” “You’d have to ask Killian, but I don’t think so.” “He says I call him babe.”

Wincing, Emma belatedly realizes this is probably not a conversation she should be having with her father, but she hasn’t really seen her mother and she wants to talk about it to Regina even less, and she obviously can’t bring it up to Killian when she’s avoiding him so much and—

A door slams. Footsteps rush towards them, voices on the breeze and the snowflakes that have kept falling all day because it’s New England and as far as Emma knows it’s required to snow in New England on Christmas. Or in the days leading up. 

David nods towards the door she should have opened five minutes ago. 

And it takes her about one sharp inhale, two eyes that very nearly fall out of her head, and that maternal-type adrenaline she’s starting to get used to, for Emma to tumble out of the truck, sprint the few feet between them and practically launch herself into Henry’s waiting arms. Arms that are much more adult than she’s familiar with. 

Although that does also make it easier for him to tighten them around Emma’s middle, and she supposes time-traveling beggars cannot be choosers. “Hey,” Henry breathes, mostly into her hair. Wind whips around them, only kind of unnatural and a little magical and the door opens again. Emma doesn’t look up. Seeing Killian standing there, with his feet crossed at the ankles, she’s sure, will only drive her closer to a line she’s not all that willing to cross. Yet. Or ever. 

No, definitely ever. 

Everyone calling him Killian is nice. Exceptionally, so. 

“Killian said it was bad, but…” Trailing off, Henry pulls back and Emma’s crying again. Like a total, entirely incompetent ass. She’s got so many questions still. Her arms tighten, a fresh round of terror rattling around her soul, or some other ridiculous sentiment, and Henry doesn’t argue. He kisses the top of her hair too. 

He’s much taller than her now. 

“Did Killian talk to you?”

“Mom,” Henry sighs, “c’mon—even when I was a kid, that shouldn’t have surprised you.” It doesn’t, not really. But there’s a grown man in her arms, and snow flying around them, and Henry’s barked “not now, Lu” causes another kid to scamper back up the porch. Towards Killian and his ridiculous grey-streaked hair, and he picks her up without looking away from Emma. 

He’s looking at Emma. 

Still, or always, or whatever. 

“Don’t ask what kind of favors he had to pull in to get us here,” Henry adds, “but he said you’d need it, and it might help and Ella definitely wanted to leave, even if she won’t admit to it, so—”

“Stop telling lies, Henry Mills,” another voice calls from behind Killian, and Emma’s going to pass out. For a variety of reasons, least of all her lack of caloric intake today. 

Henry clicks his tongue. A family trait, apparently. “It’s not a lie, she didn’t even really want to go, but Lu gets a ridiculous present haul, so we had to and—” Several puzzle pieces fly into place. Helped along by Lu’s rather loud screech of “papa” directly into Killian’s ear, and Emma is glad she hasn’t eaten. Throwing up on Henry’s shoes is not the festive reunion it should be. “I’m really here,” Henry adds, reading Emma’s mind. Or her face. “No matter what you think might have happened in Neverland, it didn’t. I’m here, and you’re here and Killian made food, so you should probably eat.” She’d been right about the puzzle, it is a pretty picture. One that doesn’t belong to her, entirely. But pretty all the same. Desirable, maybe. 

That’s a dangerous line of thinking. 

“Hook can cook? Ignore that rhyme, please.” Henry grins, marching them back towards the house as David yells something about getting Snow from school and then there are smells and kids and that goddamn Christmas tree. And it takes Emma a few moments she thinks she deserves to realize—

“How did Henry know I’d come from Neverland?” she asks Killian, standing in the middle of the kitchen. He’s stirring something. She’ll think about that for at least two hours. 

“I told him.” “How did you know?” Leveling her with an incredulous stare, Emma once again fails at the whole no blushing thing, and they own a stand mixer. Only adults own stand mixers. “How many times should I request you give me more credit before that also becomes redundant?” “This is probably good enough.” “Generous of you, and it wasn’t very hard. Although I am still trying to pinpoint when it was, exactly. Quite a lot happened in Neverland.” “Looking awfully smug about that.” He shakes his head, offering her the spoon and there’s sauce there. Delicious sauce. This must happen a lot. “Hard to do that when you can’t look at me straight on, but—” “—Echo Caves,” Emma says, rushing to interrupt him. Killian’s eyebrows jump. 

“Huh.” “Regina doesn’t think telling me things will affect anything.” “Huh.” “Nothing to add to that?” Silence. More relative, at least. The TV is on, and a pillow fort is apparently being engineered in the living room, and everyone was very quick to leave the pair of them alone. With the sauce. “Thank you, though.”

“For?” “Getting Henry here, whatever favors you had to call in. I—well, Dad told me some of the stuff, and it’s...nice.” His lips disappear when he presses them together. Emma’s still staring, it seems. “Part of the deal, I think.” “Of?” “You really want me to answer that?” “Probably not,” Emma exhales, “but—still. It’s nice, and I...well, I appreciate it.”

“That’s not something you have to thank me for, love. Now, c’mon, I know you haven’t eaten and there are some ravenous kids out there who will mutiny if we don’t get them spaghetti soon.”

Emma nods, not able to say anything else because nice is suddenly a vast understatement, and she eats a second bowl of mostly sauce, and she never really knows how she gets back into bed, only that she fell asleep under the pillow fort with Killian’s shoulder close to hers. 

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #cs fic #but once a year #festive fic a thon 2k20 #true story: i wrote this chapter #forgot about the absolutely bonkers state of the show's legitimate timeline #and had to go back and age up robyn #or however it's spelled #honestly i did very minimal research for this story

[louiserandom]

Of Punishments and Rewards

Pairing: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara | Rating: M

Summary: The citizens of Konoha have long grown used to (and frankly bored of) the often destructive spectacle that is Madara and Tobirama screaming their lungs out at each other in the market district. During one such clash, however, Madara suffers an accidental concussion and proceeds to not-so-accidentally flirt with, grope, and expose his secret affair with none other than the white-haired Senju he's supposed to hate.

Now this has the whole village intrigued.

Read Chapter 1 on AO3 or continue under the cut :3 Ko-fi info is in the header!

The citizens of Konoha have long grown used to (and frankly bored of) the often destructive spectacle that is Madara and Tobirama screaming their lungs out at each other in the market district. So when today the Uchiha Clan Head, foul mood and all, stomps towards an unsuspecting Tobirama (who really isn’t bothering anybody and seems to be busy enough picking out oranges) and starts shrieking at the top of his lungs about some manner of ‘experimental bullshit' crawling out of Tobirama's 'death trap of a lab,' most of the passersby find themselves stifling a yawn.

Another day, another bout of fires and flooding from the two village founders whose hate for each other hasn’t diminished in the slightest in the two years of Konoha’s existence.

Grown stronger, if anything.

“BECAUSE I AM NOT,” Madara bellows at the end of his first public rant of the day (though surely not the last), “GOING TO STAND FOR YOUR BRAZEN INCOMPETENCE ANYMORE, SENJU!”

Of course, Madara accusing Tobirama of incompetence is also nothing new, although it is common knowledge that it’s the latter who often has to get the Hokage and his best friend out of ridiculously foolish debacles.

(Konoha still remembers how the two godlike shinobi somehow stumbled into quite the deep hole intended for garbage disposal and in their drunken stupor ended up forgetting that they could have simply jumped outーwhat with their immense chakra reserves no less. Tobirama, naturally, had been exceptionally cross that day.)

“Incompetence?” Tobirama only scoffs in answer. “Whatever problem you have with how I handle my duties, Uchiha, pales in comparison to the damage your complete lack of logic deals to society.”

“You shut the fuck up,” Madara snaps, fists clenching and chakra becoming visible alreadyーa faintly shimmering fire-cloak upon his form. That really never bodes well for the market’s survival. “And study the logic behind proper fucking sleep so your complete lack of sense and self-restraint doesn’t lead to more dangerous fucking jutsu that spiral out of fucking control!”

This does perk up a few ears; after all, what novelty of Tobirama Senju’s could appear more dangerous than his summoning of an undead army that past Obon Festival?

“I am conducting a perfectly safe study,” Tobirama says, though Madara doesn’t seem like he believes him at all. “And not of a jutsu but a living being. Though it’s unsurprising your handful of brain matter failed to distinguish the two.”

“A living being with nine godsdamned tails made out of enough chakra to wipe out the whole of Fire Country?!”

This perks up a few more ears but seeds no panic; it’s thanks to Tobirama, after all, that most of Konoha has seen much, much worse. 

“It's a perfectly docile and friendly chakra fox,” Tobirama insists, crossing his arms. “Now for the love of all things holy and unholy, stop your shrieking.” He glances at the mostly disinterested crowd. “You’re embarrassing me. And yourself, though I doubt there’s any room to sink lower than you have.”

“I will fucking destroy you, you worthless piece of shit!” The crackles of a budding Katon flicker around Madara’s fists. “Now go and take care of your fucking experiment-living-chakraーwhatever bullshit, or I will fight you and there will be no remains left for your brother to cry over.”

Tobirama glares, straightening to his full height which has him towering above Madara’s bristling frame. “How so much fight can fit in so little a man,” he sneers, “I will never understand.”

Three things happen in quick succession.

Naturally, Madara attacks. A massive raging wall of fire sizzles straight at Tobirama, who matches Madara’s wild toothy grin with a smirk as he jumps out of the way with the usual easeーonly for Madara to charge at him, fist coated with white-hot flames, and unsurprisingly, Tobirama dodges yet again.

What does come as a surprise is Madara’s slight... miscalculation, it seems, as his eyes linger a bit too long in the general direction of Tobirama’s thighs for some reason, and he’s just slow enough to miss the giant crate of oranges that falls from a panicking store owner’s shelf.

“Madara-sama!” the salesman cries as the legendary Uchiha collides with the box headfirst and drops limply to the ground. “F-forgive me,” the poor man stutters, appearing quite a bit more worried about Tobirama than Madara’s squirming form.

After all, neither of the two are happy when their fights are interrupted before they can destroy at least one building, and as expected, the Senju in question frowns and visibly deflates.

“Madara?” Tobirama asks, tentative, banishing the spikes of ice he’s conjured with his jutsu.

“Mmm,” Madara articulates from the ground, face scrunched in pain as he squints at the sky as if it’s personally offended him. “Mm-wha?..”

In a yet unseen show of kindness, Tobirama walks up to him and kneels to check on Madara’s condition. Quite a few stares shift in their direction. Shouldn’t Tobirama be inclined to leave the Uchiha to suffer?

Apparently not.

“Madara? Can you hear me?” Receiving no answer, Tobirama coaxes him to sit up as he checks over his head. Though unwounded, it does appear he’s seriously concussed as he starts slurring nonsense and pointing at a part of the crowd mumbling something about ‘fute birdsies.’ “Listen, IーAnija will be really upset if you’re seriously hurt, so can you tell meー”

Madara slaps a gloved hand roughly over Tobirama’s mouth. Another uncharacteristic move that provokes many a frown. The pair usually avoid skin to skin contact religiously, even when fighting.

“Your lips,” Madara slurs, eyes unfocused as he stares dazedly at his supposed enemy, “could putーbe put to... much better use than talking.”

“W-what?” Tobirama stammers, shoving the hand away and scrambling to his feet.

“I said your lips,” Madara tries to clarify, before Tobirama cuts him off, “Shut the fuck up, you moron!” he grits through his teeth, extending a hand to the Uchiha as he flops back down to lie on the ground.

“And get up," Tobirama orders, "now. I’m taking you to Anija. Concussions are tricky to heal and I might not be able to avoid leaving lasting effects.”

Madara smirks, and for some reason that prompts a look of horror to settle on Tobirama’s face. For good reason, as the onlookers discover.

“It’s always up for you, Tobirama,” Madara’s slurring is mixed with a bit of a stupid-sounding drawl as he positively ogles Tobirama, eyes once again lingering a tad lower than appropriate. “The question is if you wanna play.”

“Madara!” Tobirama hisses, casting death glares at the crowds now circled around them as one unified and now definitely intrigued mob. “Stop this foolishness right this instantー”

“Stop isn’t our safe-word, Tobiー”

“ーand take my fucking hand!”

“I’d rather have it wrapped around myー”

“MADARA!” Tobirama is trembling with fury at this point, chakra radiating killing intent enough for shinobi and civilian alike to feel it wash over them. The people gathered only scuffle closer, disappointed that the rest of Madara’s sentence gets drowned out by Tobirama’s shout and their own collective gasp. Tobirama pinches the bridge of his nose. “Not. Here.”

“I kno-ow,” Madara whines, finally grasping for Tobirama’s hand only to use it to yank him down once he gets ahold of it. “This hand indefーit definitely needs to be reaching a lot lower.”

“Madara, gods fucking dammit,” Tobirama growls as he wrests himself from Madara hold, “people are staring.”

To be fair, the self-proclaimed honorable and pure-hearted citizens of Konoha make an effort to pretend they aren’t gapingーwhich really isn’t an easy task though, because the display is turning out to be more exciting than any of the village-wide festivities to date.

“Oh?” Madara seems to be trying to raise one eyebrow but ends up skewing his face into an awkward frown at best. “If yesterday’s anything to go by, you don’t mind a little voytriloquism yourself, koibito.”

Another round of gasps follows as Tobirama blanches, mouth slightly agape and lips trembling. Someone helpfully shouts, “Do you mean voyeurism, Uchiha-sama?”

“Yes-yes!” Madara pipes up, still squirming helplessly on the ground. “Voyagerism. That.”

“Uchiha,” Tobirama glowers, a sheen of blue energy wrapping around his limbs as his ire escalates, “I am literally begging you toー”

“Didn’t get enough earlier, eh?” Madara leers, finally managing to wriggle into a half-sitting position, sending a few oranges rolling on the ground. Intrigued and unperturbed by Tobirama’s spluttering (and what a strange sight it is, to see the usually composed Senju at such a loss for words), Madara picks up two of the fruits and proceeds to shock the bystanders to the core once more, “You know, they say fresh squeezed oranges are good for you in the morning, but I think your fresh squeezed diー”

“MADARA, NO!” Tobirama roars, this time quite evidently to drown out Madara’s words.

“Madara, yes,” the Uchiha moans, “that’s all I remember you saying to me this morning.” A few desperate “Kai” resound in the area as Madara Uchiha incarnate starts licking the oranges in his hands. He keeps eye contact with Tobirama all the while as he sucks on them, shameless and wanton, swirling his tongue over the fruits with such wanton enthusiasm one might think him a common harlot. “Remind you of anything, To-bi-ra-ma?”

Needless to say, the world plunges into chaos. Choruses of cheers and wolf whistles, sounds of both affront and confusion erupt from the bystanders as quite a few women rush to cover their husbands’ eyes lest they require the same astonishing level of skill from them.

Tobirama, meanwhile, seems to have finally regained his ability to act, if not speak, and proceeds to grab Madara by his collar and drag him into a wobbly stance, slapping a hand bathed in faint green glow against the Uchiha’s forehead.

"Get permanent brain damage for all I care.” Tobirama gives Madara a pretty hard shake. “Now will you stop fucking talking?”

"You don’t tell me what to do, Senju,” Madara grumbles, looking a bit steadier on his feet now even as his voice still sounds a bit shaky. “And how did I get here?”

Tobirama ignores him, directing one last glower at the excited crowd as he commands, “Don’t you dare speak a word of this to the Hokage,” before disappearing into thin air with Madaraーhis secret lover, something Konoha still can’t wrap its collective head aroundーin tow.

Granted, the younger Senju must have sensed his brother’s approach because the next second none other than Hashirama steps into the market with the usual wide grin on his face, flowers sprouting on each patch of ground he steps on. The crowd stills and grows silent but for a few moments as Tobirama’s order rings clear in their minds, and yet,

“What happened here?” Hashirama asks in childlike confusion.

In just a handful of moments, it proves too much of a temptation for Konoha prolific rumor mill to resist.

“Madara was doing what in front of my Otouto?!”

#madatobi #tobimada #madara uchiha #tobirama senju #humor #fanfic #lou writes #idiots in love #naruto

[fandomlurker]

A Ponderous Rewatch: Bubba Bo Bob Brain and Cameo

Can I just say that I think I’m somehow getting worse at keeping the screenshot count down?

Neither the cameo nor the main episode in this post are animated by TMS, so that’s not the reason for the surprisingly high screenshot count. However, the regular episode is animated by Wang Film Production, who are the same folks that animated the very first PatB segment and have done most of the episodes I’ve covered so far, including the previous one. I can tell they’ve gotten a better handle at animating our main duo in the skit we’re looking at today, especially Brain. Wang Film Production is no TMS, but they’ve gotten very, very good at expressions. They’ve also seemed to settle into a rounded and soft design for Brain, something that they’re kind of known for among fans if I recall correctly. Pinky can still be a little…off at this point in time, though.

Moving on, the cameo that we’re starting with is animated by Akom Film Productions. They’re the folks who usually do the animation for the Chicken Boo and Goodfeathers episodes, and they usually do a pretty good job with those characters. As far as our mouse duo go, though, Akom has only done “Opportunity Knox” so far. You know, the one with the oddly nightmarish Brain close-ups. Thankfully we get none of that since it’s only a short bit.

So yes, onto the cameo in “Noah’s Lark”!

So this is actually a Hip Hippos episode, but luckily we don’t have to deal with them at all right now. The premise is the story of Noah’s Ark, obviously, but the character of Noah is done as a parody of the stand-up comedian Richard Lewis, who was somewhat popular in the 80s. The most modern and notable media he’s been involved in that people on Tumblr might know him from (or at least, what I think folks here might recognize, it can be a little hard to gauge that since both millennials and gen z folks are the main demographic of this site) are Robin Hood: Men in Tights where he played Prince John, and Curb Your Enthusiasm where he plays himself.

Noah is rounding up two of every animal to go onto the ark (which is a popular depiction of how the story goes, but is actually false: it’s supposed to be seven male and female pairs of “clean” animals of each species and one pair of “unclean” animals of the same species, but that’s as far as I’m going into that topic). He’s nearly finished the list and has just been mauled by the wolverine pair, and…

“Lab mice?...”

The fact that he’s specifically asking for a pair of lab mice raises a lot of questions that I don’t think we have time to unpack.

The pair of lab mice that he gets is, of course, Pinky and the Brain.

And Pinky is, for the very first time in the series, crossdressing, presumably to pass as a female mouse so he and Brain can survive the great flood by boarding the ark.

…This is also a lot to unpack.

“Check!” they both exclaim, although Pinky does it in a very deep voice for some reason.

Wow, look at the surprise and then hostile suspicion on Noah’s face there!

Their outfits are very 1950s, with Brain even carrying a suitcase. Anachronisms aside, these two really went all out for the “we are a normal, heterosexual pair” ruse, didn’t they? Not only is Pinky in a dress and a blonde wig, but Brain even put on a little bowler hat. Why did he feel the need to do that? Did he feel left out of dressing up otherwise? Was he afraid he wouldn’t look “manly” and hetero enough without it? I have so many questions…

“Whew! These pantyhose are killing me, Brain!”

Wow, for once it’s Pinky physically hurting Brain, even if it’s a relatively minor tug on the ear.

“I think I prefer knee-highs…”

…Pinky, you’re not even wearing pantyhose. What the hell are you talking about?

Assuming that this is just the result of an animation oversight (which, honestly, I’m certain it was), we now know that his disguise went so over-the-top as to include pantyhose which Noah wouldn’t normally see…and also it’s a type of pantyhose that Pinky doesn’t even like wearing, which implies to me that this is something Brain acquired for him.

There is just so much going on in cameos like these if you think about them for even a few seconds.

Also, I agree with Pinky. Knee-high pantyhose are much less uncomfortable to wear.

BONK!

So the mice are allowed to board and the audience is left to think that their little ruse worked, but immediately after the two run off and are out of listening range Noah rolls his eyes and says

“Who am I to judge?”

Heavily implying Noah completely saw through it and let them on anyway. Wow.

That’s the end of their cameo. Who’d have thought that this little scene would be the precursor to Brain having Pinky crossdress to disguise him as Brain’s wife so many times in the series? And who’d have thought that this very first time wouldn’t fool anyone at all?

But now let’s move on to the meat of this rewatch post:

We open to Acme Labs at night, as usual, though I’ve never noticed until now how lonely and eerie the place seems if you ignore our mouse duo.

“Pinky… I believe I have conceived my most brilliant plan to date!”

Oh boy, we have another first for today! Brain is very much a fan of using temporary mind control for his plans. It’s the method he falls back on the most, which is very interesting when you consider his various psychological issues involving having control taken away from him all his life.

“I shall use subliminal mind control to take over the world!”

“…Pinky?”

The hand-on-hip pose here is great.

“Today’s inside story is country mega-star Willie Ray Cypress!”

Uh, Pinky? Considering that this is pretty much the expression you had while looking at Pharfignewton, I am very, very worried about you looking at the Billy Ray Cyrus parody the same way.

“Don’t tell my head, my empty hollow head!~”

“You know I wouldn’t understand!~”

Same, Brain. Same. It’s just like Pinky to enjoy a song as earworm-y as this (not to mention how relevant this parody is to his everyday experience with Brain’s plans), but lord was the real song this is making fun of annoying as hell back in the day. Like, I was a small child at the time this song came out, and I still hated how often this would be played on the radio.

Luckily, Brain pounces on the remote’s off button and puts an end to the nonsense.

But oh, the look of sad betrayal on Pinky’s face is heartbreaking! I’m sorry, sweetie!

“It must be inordinately taxing to be such a boob.”

Heh, Brain said “boob”. /inner six year old

“You have no idea…”

“Pinky, do you know what a subliminal message is?”

“Something you leave on a subliminal telephone answering machine?”

Nice try, Pinky.

“No. It is a recorded message perceived only by the subconscious human mind.”

Two things here:

This diagram bothers me because my mind always interprets the way they’ve drawn the bottom of the cerebellum as the person shutting their eyes extremely tightly.

Brain using his own tail as a pointing stick is very, very cute and I love this detail.

“I have recorded such a message.”

He’s still holding his tail, aaaa!~

“Citizens of the world, you are under my control. You will do whatever I say…”

“Nice mix, but it’s not exactly danceable, is it?”

Oh, Pinky. Only you would sincerely compliment Brain’s incredibly dry mind control message and then immediately point out a flaw that has nothing to do with its purpose. Bless you, you stupid and wonderful little mouse.

I like how Pinky’s interjection startles the hell outta Brain for a moment, too.

“If people heard this message enough times, they would succumb to my control and we could take over the world!”

Notice that despite Pinky being a minor annoyance and despite the fact that Brain claims that everyone will be under his control, yet again it’s still both of them taking over the world.

“What do you think, Pinky?”

And he still wants Pinky’s input. It’s small and scattered and very, very subtle, but in my opinion this is Brain’s most frequent way of showing that he cares about Pinky. Brain likely isn’t even aware that he does it. Pinky might not be aware, either.

“I think I’m getting dizzy and I rather like it! Ahahahahahoo!~”

“Sometimes you hurt my head, Pinky…”

And yet, Brain. And yet…

“The only problem: How to get this message repeated worldwide airplay…?”

Offscreen, Pinky turns the TV back on and startles Brain again, but only for a moment.

Another great pose and expression here: Mildly annoyed, but interested and on the verge of an idea.

“I just adore Willie Ray!”

“I listen to his song twenty times a day!”

I…really don’t know why they chose to have this shot done with Brain walking over the “camera” towards the TV so we get a brief close-up of Brain’s mousey behind. It made me laugh, though, so I thought I’d share.

“Pinky… Are you pondering what I’m pondering?”

I’m also kind of obsessed with this brief expression of Pinky’s I unintentionally managed to capture. It’s a bit of a smug, knowing, and yet endeared look. I’m sure it’s completely unintentional on the animators’ part, but I love the idea it gives me of Pinky knowing exactly what Brain’s thinking but purposefully saying something entirely unrelated to playfully tease him.

“Well, I think so, Brain, but burlap chafes me so.”

To be fair, Pinky, I think burlap chafes everyone. And were you thinking about doing a potato sack race? That’s the only connection to burlap I can think of that would be in any way relevant...

“Country music, Pinky. I will go to Nashville and become the biggest country music star of all time! Everyone will hear my record and my subliminal message and I will take over the world!”

In all honesty, that would probably be easier to do in the early 90s when this takes place since country music wasn’t such a…well, “dead” is a bit of an exaggeration, but country music as a genre is incredibly unpopular nowadays with the occasional notable exception. In the early 90s? Not so much.

“Egad, Brain!”

This is the most enthusiastic swoon I’ve seen and heard from you yet, Pinky.

“Oh! But no, no… It takes people years of hard work to become famous, Brain.”

Well, that or they’re born into a famous family. Or they’re just rich.

“Why, take Kathie Lee Gifford for example: She did community theatre, and—“

I actually can’t find anything via Googling about Kathie Lee doing community theatre before she became famous. She seems to have studied music and drama in university, and had a folk music group in high school, but the only reference to theatre I can find is professional musical theatre in the late 90s.

It’s possible Pinky’s right, though.

BONK!

BRAIN! …Wait, where did you even get that tiny club?

“Stop talking, Pinky, I must think.”

You… Brain, I think I’m starting to see why some fans believe you may be as neurodivergent as Pinky is, but in a different way. I can’t in good faith elaborate on that myself, since I haven’t been diagnosed as such and it would be completely disrespectful of me to do so, but if anyone wants a good little theory on that, try here.

“I have calculated every ingredient necessary to become a country music mega-star. Read me the list, Pinky!”

He’s typing by hopping from one key to another, aww!

Eeeh, the lettering work on that computer is pretty bad, though.

“A cowboy hat.”

“Check!”

“A southern dialect.”

“Check, ya’ll!”

“Nice, Brain.”

The way Pinky says “nice” here reminds me of this meme. Also, aww, Pinky’s always ready with the compliments.

“Working class values…”

“I enjoy beef jerky and the comedy stylings of Gallagher. Check.”

His visible cringe at having to say he enjoys Gallagher is wonderful. I first heard about Gallagher through My Brother, My Brother and Me, but for anyone that doesn’t know, Gallagher is a frankly terrible prop comedian whose most famous act was smashing things on stage (usually fruits of increasing size) with a large mallet that he called the “Sledge-O-Matic”, ending with smashing a watermelon. It was apparently a mildly popular bit of comedy in the south. Does that sound entertaining? No? Yeah, that’s…that’s why Brain is cringing so hard.

“A song.”

“Check!”

A song titled “A Song”. Brain, sweetheart, I think you’re going to need to put in a little more effort than that.

“A name consisting of not less than three words.”

“From now on, I shall be ‘Bubba Bo Bob Brain’. Check.”

I would make fun of him for this name, but honestly it’s kind of genius in its bland simplicity.

“And…a height of at least six feet!”

“Aaa--guebuh…”

Whoops. Forgot about that one, huh?

“Drat!”

“There must be some way for me to increase my height…”

Gee, if only you had a fully operational mechanical human suit just laying around.

“Hmm, let me think…”

“Don’t hurt yourself, Pinky.”

He is trying his best!

“Faster, Pinky! Faster!”

…Why does Pinky have to spin the thread? The whole point of sewing machines like this is that they’re powered electrically, Brain. Are you just making him do this so Pinky feels included?

Oh. Oh no…

Brain’s “WTF?” face is great. He’s surprised and yet not at the same time, because things like this just happen when you have Pinky around.

“You amaze me, Pinky.”

“I do my best…”

A very cute exchange.

So instead of using the mechanical human suit they usually fall back on in times like these (maybe it’s under six feet tall?), the mice instead come up with…this.

“Proceed, Pinky.”

I have to give them some credit, regardless of how ridiculous this is, as sewing denim to make a very bizarrely thin and tall pair of jeans must have been an absolute nightmare.

“Ki-yi-yippee-yi-yo. How do I look?”

I’m getting flashbacks to the similarly deadpan singing of “Camptown Races” from last episode. Brain’s really on a western kick lately, isn’t he?

“Oh, very nice, Brain!”

Your finger-framing may be focused on the back of Brain’s head for some reason, Pinky, but your pupils are definitely pointed a bit…lower.

“It’s ‘Bubba Bo Bob Brain’.”

“You are my manager, Colonel Pinky.”

This is a reference to Elvis Presley’s manager, Colonel Tom Parker, who was honestly quite the bungler when it came to managing Elvis’ career. I honestly don’t think Brain’s making a subtle jab at Pinky’s competency here for once because Brain’s grasp of pop culture he’s not already interested in is surface level at best most of the time.

“You discovered me playing the guitar on the front porch of my humble pig farm. Any questions?”

“Oh, just one: When you farm humble pigs, how far apart do you have to plant them?”

“…If I could reach you, I would hurt you.”

Hey now, you’re the one that asked, Brain.

“But for now, on to Nashville!”

“On to Nashville!”

BONK!

“This is a pain that is going to linger…”

That’s what you get for rolling your eyes at Pinky’s enthusiasm.

No perilous car trips this time! Instead, the boys are getting bus tickets to Nashville.

“Two tickets to Nashville, please.”

“Ooh-wee!~ You’re a tall drink a’ water, aint’cha, darlin’?”

…Ma’am? Excuse me, ma’am? Ma’am, are you flirting with The Brain?

Like, sorry, that “tall drink of water” saying is not just to point out that someone’s tall. It’s specifically for flirting with someone who is tall and gorgeous and a refreshing sight to see, like a tall glass of water on a hot summer day.

This lady is flirting with a mouse on stilt legs.

I know that Brain’s disguises are prone to inexplicably work even when by all rights they shouldn’t, but…

“Actually, I am a lab mouse on stilts.”

Brain does his usual bold and plain truth shtick and I’m a little surprised that he didn’t react to what she said beyond that. Then again, this is Brain and he’s quite terrible when talking to women in general, so maybe we dodged a bullet here.

“…At least he didn’t ask me to pull his finger.”

I’ve worked in retail and food service for years, ma’am, and if that’s the extent of your experience with unpleasant men, consider yourself lucky.

“EGAD, Bibby-boo-bop-Brain! Round trips are so exciting!”

“It’s ‘Bubba Bo Bob Brain’, Pinky.”

“Right! Sorry. Zort!”

Honestly, Pinky’s version is much cuter.

“Concentrate, Pinky, concentrate!”

BONK!

“YES! This pain will definitely be with me a while.”

Brain out here looking like a bad Minecraft texture.

Hello again, Warner Siblings! Gosh, that little fringed western skirt on Dot is cute.

“’The Rowdy Ranch Nightclub’… What are we doing here, Boobie-baa-baa-Brain?”

I checked the official subtitles for this and yes, that is exactly what he mistakenly calls Brain here. We have had both of these two call each other “boob” or some permutation of it this episode.

Pinky and the Brain sure is a show that exists.

“…It’s ‘Bubba Bo Bob’ Brain. And according to statistics, and inordinate number of country western superstars have gotten their start at this very establishment.”

You probably didn’t need me to tell you this, but there’s no Rowdy Ranch Nightclub in real life. There is, however, “The Rowdy Ranch”, uh, ranch in Texas.

“Egad! [gasp] Do you suppose Minnie Pearl performed here?”

“One can only hope…”

Man, Brain, you are really laying the sarcasm on thick this episode. Come to think of it, he’s been slightly more sassy towards Pinky than usual this episode as well. I suppose he’s still sore about the end of the last one. You know, for reasons.

BONK!

At least he’s getting some karmic punishment for it, I guess.

“I am a telephone repairman from this area!~”

This little ditty this man is singing has bugged the hell out of me for quite a while, as it certainly sounds like it’s a reference to something but I never knew exactly what it was referring to until just now thanks to an old Animaniacs Usenet group from way back in the day: It’s a parody of the song “Whichita Lineman” by Glenn Campbell. The writers are really giving it their all with the pop culture references this time.

“When I give the signal, play the subliminal message tape.”

“Right-o, Bippie Bebop Balloola!”

“…Sometimes you frighten me, Pinky.”

Why, though?! Despite it being a mistake it’s honestly a goddamn adorable one. Why must you fear affectionate, innocent, unknowing malapropisms, Brain? Pinky’s still going to do what you told him to.

Anyway, Brain is ushered onto the stage as a newcomer and he’s…not exactly any more eloquent than Pinky was just now.

“Howdy, you all. Here’s a little…ditty I wrote. Hope you enjoy it…you all.”

Here’s the thing: Brain’s not one to get stage fright, and while he’s not the best actor he’s still usually better than this. He was saying “ya’ll” and getting the country-isms perfectly fine beforehand, although he was still doing it in his deadpan Brain way.

Now, suddenly, after hearing Pinky cutely screw up his fake name and going on stage he’s starting to mess up. It’s like Pinky’s error is still in the back of his mind and flustering him enough to throw him off for a bit.

He gets back into the swing of things when he starts singing his song, though.

“I am a lab mouse, I escaped from my cage

Never had a job, never earned minimum wage.~”

“He ain’t half bad.”

“Ain’t half good, either.”

OUCH. That’s a little harsh. Sure, the lyrics are kinda blah but he’s a decent singer here. Really, it’s just not a genre of music that his voice fits very well.

Also, lady? You’ve got a suspiciously busty doppleganger in the back there. That’s got to be a bad omen for you.

“But you will respect me, YES, once my plan is unfurled!~

You will call me your leader, I’ll be king of the world!~”

Careful, Brain. Your complicated emotional complex is starting to show in those lyrics.

There’s some more nice facial expressions here too. I can’t really capture it with still images, but Brain’s got a very tender demeanor when he sings about being king of the world.

“Now, Pinky!”

…I just noticed that Pinky’s wearing a completely different outfit here at the nightclub than he was when boarding the bus to get to Nashville. He was previously in an all-white colonel outfit and now he’s in a more generic yet very sweet cowboy get-up. Did you make yourself an entire wardrobe, Pinky?

Another minor detail is that while Pinky’s cowboy hat is a generic tan colour (although before, it was white), Brain’s hat is completely black, which as per western film traditions marks him as a clear villain.

You and I know he’s not really a villain and is, at worst, an anti-villain…but I thought this was worth pointing out anyway.

“Citizens of the world, you are under my control. You will do whatever I say.”

I love how he does this completely unneeded strum on his guitar in the middle of his subliminal message. It's for the drama!

“Buy my record and listen to it twenty times a day.”

Corporations be like…

Who am I kidding? Corporations nowadays would have you pay a fee monthly to have a song on your phone playlist and you would never really own a copy.

“Let’s buy his record…”

“And listen to it twenty times a day…”

Lady, that doppleganger is still over there. Do you need a distraction while you sneak out the back?

This smug lil’ jerk. Gotta love him, though.

And so Brain’s cassette tapes fly off the shelves at record speed.

Man. Cassette tapes. I feel so fuckin’ old…

“I don’t know ‘bout ya’ll, but I can’t get enough of Bubba Bo Bob Brain. Let’s hear it again!”

JFC, that spittoon. Blegh! And just what do you need that rope for?!?

“Well, he’s the hottest thing to hit Nashville since my mama’s jalapeno grits! Here’s Bubba Bo Bob Brain!”

Having just recently learned what exactly “grits” is, I am very disturbed by the idea of jalapeno grits.

“I’m your biggest fan! What d’you say to that?”

Hi, Dolly Parton! I’ve gotta say that the animators nailed the caricature of 90s Dolly here pretty well. She’s instantly recognizable, unlike some other celebrity parodies Animaniacs does. It’s not just because of Dolly’s, uh…most renowned physical characteristics, either. That’s a very Dolly Parton smiling face.

Not much to say here other than that Dolly’s a sweetheart of a woman, from what I know about her, especially for a celebrity. She’s a staunch supporter of Covid relief and Black Lives Matter as well.

That said, she’s sadly—both in the 90s and now—most well known for…

“I’d say puberty was inordinately kind to you.”

BRAIN!

Well, yeah. That.

I guess now you can see what I mean about Brain not being very good at talking to women. Like, he’s definitely not ogling her here. In fact he’s just kind of…stating something he’s noticed and looking absolutely done with this whole celebrity thing. But Brain you don’t just make a joke like that about a woman’s bust size no matter how deadpan you do it, you ass!

“Haha, go on.”

She takes it well, though, just like Dolly seems to in reality.

Still, though! Brain, you retroactively deserved all those run-ins with doorframes.

Continuing on the buxom southern women thing this episode has decided to run with (seriously, what’s going on here?), we now have a brief parody of a Hee Haw skit.

“Hahahahaha!”

“Hey, Bubba Bo Bob Brain, I just got back from France!”

“How’d you find it?”

“I used a map.~”

“Hahahahaha!”

Yeah, that’s an accurate depiction of Hee Haw style humour.

“And the Country Tune Award for best male vocal goes to…”

“Bubba Bo Bob Brain!”

Here we have Garth Brooks and Crystal Gayle emceeing this awards ceremony. I had to look up who these two were supposed to be, though, since the caricatures are pretty vague this time.

“EGAD! YIPPEE! Narf! Ah hahahahahaha!”

Aww, he’s so happy for Brain! And oh, is that yet another outfit I see? And a much more appropriately sunshine-y yellow and flamboyant one at that! Pinky really went all-out for this.

Again with the tongue hanging out too, except this time it’s more understandable.

“You’re embarrassing me, Pinky.”

And you’re continuing to be a jerk, wow. Someone needs a nap or something.

“Pardon my effervescence, but your accolade is more than any bucolic mouse merits.”

“What’s he sayin’?”

“I don’t know.”

Yes, Brain just used the word “effervescence”, much like in that one Tumblr Twilight meme. To those reeling from the fact that this compares Edward to Brain via their shared pretentiousness: You’re welcome.

Also, a Brain-to-common English translation: “Pardon my bubbly enthusiasm, but your award is more than any countryside mouse deserves.” Would that have been so hard to say, Brain?

“…I’d like to thank my mama and Elvis.”

I wouldn’t thank Elvis. He was an asshole. But that’s probably not wise to say at a 90s country music award show, so I guess it’s understandable.

“Oh, how nice!”

“Well isn’t that nice!”

“I’m outside the Grand Ol’ Opry, where tonight’s concert featuring country music sensation ‘Bubba Bo Bob Brain’ is being televised worldwide.”

“In two words: Bubba is hot!”

I… That’s twice in this episode where a human woman thinks a tiny, big-headed mouse on stilts is hot.

Furries, come get these poor, confused women.

“You gotta know how to cut ‘em

Know how to shuffle

Know how to deal the cards, before you play Fish with me.~”

Hello, Kenny Rogers. I only know the song parodied here, “The Gambler”, again through “My Brother, My Brother and Me” and the long and hilarious conversation about it.

It’s kind of weird to have a song that was made famous by Rogers in 1978 sung like it’s a recent hit in an early 90s awards show, but ehh. Maybe the shelf life of hit country songs is a lot longer than songs of other genres.

And then you die in your sleep~

“Do you realize what will happen if the world hears my song just one more time?”

“An angel will get its wings?!”

If only, Pinky.

“NO, Pinky!”

I think all this country stuff is really getting on Brain’s nerves. He’s being snappy and irritable and lashing out an abnormal amount ever since arriving in Nashville, and there’s not a lot of joy in the minor successes he’s had so far. Like, compare Brain smiling and praising Pinky for his work during the alien encounter spoof they did together, the last episode with Brain cheerfully singing to himself when he was certain he’d win the race…to now where he’s yelling at Pinky for minor mistakes that no one but himself is aware of and being joyless and faking pleasantries and rolling his eyes at the country stars he’s surrounded by. This mouse is crabby as all hell, and I don’t think it’s just because he finds the whole country western thing stupid and below him. This is a mouse who’s done and will continue to do degrading things to achieve his goal of world domination without this much jerkishness.

I think he’s still fuming about the whole Pharfignewton and Pinky thing, and the current plan being a very rural, country-focused plan like the last one with the Kentucky Derby is just exacerbating it by reminding him of it. Like, you don’t even have to take it in the gay way I am and instead take it in a “how dare that goddamn horse take the complete attention of my friend/world domination partner away from me and my plans, this sucks and I can’t believe Pinky’s just being his usual dumbass self like everything is fine and the same” sort of way.

But the gay way makes way more sense, fight me.

…Okay, don’t fight me, I’m tired and old and I really don’t want to get in internet fights about cartoon mice.

“My subliminal message will take permanent hold, and the world will be under my control!”

Ooof! We’re back down to “my” control and not “our”. Jeez, Brain. You really are spiraling right now, aren’t you? Your attitude has quickly devolved from the beginning of this episode...

“Oh, that.”

And dang, even Pinky’s enthusiasm is starting to get deflated.

“Now, do you remember what you have to do?”

“Yes. I need to make a dental appointment. I have horrible plaque buildup!”

Pinky, you do realize that unlike a regular, non-sapient mouse you can just brush your teeth, right?

“The tape, Pinky, the TAPE!”

“Oooh, right! When you give the signal, I play the tape.”

“And now, I’d like to introduce…”

“This is it, I’m on.”

“Good luck, Booba Bip Bop Brain!”

Folks, I swear to you that I tried to get a decent screencap of Pinky slapping Brain to figure out if he slapped his back or his ass and for the life of me I could not get it. The slap goes by just that fast and I’d honestly have to go frame by frame if I wanted to get it, but my video player will not go that slow.

Either way, Brain is certainly startled by the contact but is fixated more on the continued mangling of his fake name.

“How many times do I have to tell you, my name is--!”

Uhh, Brain? Getting a liiiittle close there.

“—Bubba Bo Bob Brain!” exclaims Kenny Rogers. And oh boy are these screencaps exploitable. Again, you’re welcome.

“Yee-haw! Let’s start this hootenanny!”

Better than last time you came out on stage to sing at a show, at least.

This time the crowd even sings along with him, and they’re not even hypnotized yet. Much better.

“Now, Pinky!”

“You are under my control, you will do whatever I say…”

“I will do whatever he says… Whatever he says… Whatever he says… Whatever he says…”

A confusingly consistent detail here: Every woman in the crowd has swirly red hypnotized eyes and every man in the crowd has swirly green hypnotized eyes. Why? Who knows!

“Way to go, Blubber Boo Bean Brain. Narf!”

Heh, that hand flip.

It looks like Pinky is trying hard to suppress his verbal tic here for some reason? Or maybe he’s just realized that he’s messed up the name again and is cringing in anticipation of Brain yelling at him? Either way, poor guy… You really don’t deserve any of what’s coming.

And what’s coming? Well, given Brain’s heightened pissy attitude and his mental issues with not having things go exactly the way he wants them to, plus his obsessive need this episode to correct Pinky on this one thing that doesn’t need to even be addressed because no one else hears it, plus other repressed emotions…

“Do me a favour and forget my name. While you’re at it, forget you ever knew me!”

Holy shit.

…Now you fucked up, Brain. Now you fucked up.

Man, I hate the one thick facial hair on the dude in the middle. It’s so unsettling.

“Hey, who’s that skinny guy on stage?”

“Who is he?”

“Get him off!”

“Boo!”

“We wanna see someone famous!”

Yup. Look at what you did. You messed this up all because you were having a temper tantrum about Pinky messing up your stupid false name. You hang that head in shame. And you apologize to Pinky.

Later...

“Tonight’s inside story: A complete unknown somehow made it on to the stage at the Grand Ol’ Opry.”

“…Turn that off, Pinky.”

You know what? Keep it on for a bit, Pinky. Let Brain wallow in this humiliation just a bit more. He needs to have the lesson set in.

“I’m trying to concentrate on a better plan for tomorrow night.”

“Why, Brain? What are we going to do tomorrow night?”

“Same thing we do every night, Pinky:”

“Try to take over the world!”

Hey wait just a minute! You can’t just reuse this excellent ending from “Win Big” on this episode! Brain doesn’t yet deserve to get back to being cocky and determined after being such an ass!

Ahh well. He does get better, folks, I promise. This is just a rough patch. Brain is… He’s going through some things, I think. He’s not processing his emotions in a healthy way and it’s really coming back to bite him.

Listen, I understand this whole thing with Brain being extra grumpy and hostile after the whole Pinky dating Pharfignewton thing is largely coincidence. We don’t actually know what order these episodes were made in, after all, and the Animaniacs writers were not big on continuity.

Here’s the thing, though: I still find it fascinating that these episodes were aired one after the other…especially with a random cameo with Pinky and Brain disguised as a married couple in between. It makes for the beginning of a strange sort of arc that occasionally reminds us that, hey, these two mice are a duo and something is amiss when that duo is broken up or there is a strain put on that relationship.

I’ve read that after a while, network executives at the time tried to push for these mice to settle down and have families and for the skits and the eventual spin-off to largely abandon the whole world domination thing. They wanted it to be more sitcom-like to rival and imitate shows like The Simpsons.

That obviously doesn’t work. It can’t work. The writers, especially Peter Hastings, very much pushed back against the idea. When you have a duo of characters who fit together and play off one another so well, when the basic premise of a story is of a pair of characters working together to achieve a goal, and when those characters just mesh so perfectly and basically complete one another…trying to add another main character just puts the entire story completely out of wack and/or changes it into something unrecognizable. You can add reoccurring characters off to the side, sure. You can have a nemesis or two pop up and return every now and again. But with something like Pinky and the Brain where the main story is a small pair against incredible odds working towards a singular goal, disrupting that core relationship is going to cause a domino effect that will ruin the whole thing.

All this to say that I like this approach that’s going on here much more, even if it was completely unintended by the creative team: There is the element added of Pinky, off-screen, dating someone. It’s not something that’s brought up a lot and whenever it is brought up, Brain is irritated. We’ve seen at the end of the last episode where this development was introduced that Brain is unusually snappy, and now in the next episode he continues to be angry more often than he was before. It’s a more subtle and smooth way of seeing how these characters react if something or someone threatens to come between them, in a way that doesn’t immediately break the entire premise to pieces. Of course, it helps that Pharfignewton is…largely absent for all this and is only brought up every now and again. It’s not a perfect way to explore this kind of thing, but it’s preferable when compared to something like Pinky, Elymra, and The Brain.

However, after this episode Brain’s temper begins to de-escalate, and we won’t pick back up on this accidental “arc” for a few episodes. So to folks who are maybe a little bit bummed out about his behaviour here: don’t worry. We’re getting quite the breather next time with a very odd alternate universe skit courtesy of the Warner Siblings  messing around with character placement, as well as an entire Animaniacs episode devoted to a Pinky and the Brain skit…fantasy style!

#Pinky and the Brain #PatB #Bubba Bo Bob Brain

[ontowanderlust]

Hiya! Hope you are doing well and that you have something to make you smile today. Your writing and updates do that for me. :) In that spirit, can I request a little drabble: Gavin + 'correspondence'... thank you!

Correspondence., n.

“Miss, if you ever find yourself experiencing a hardship, what better way to express your thoughts and emotions than through writing letters, wouldn't you say? And with that book chest, you can now have a place to store them.”

“And who knows, maybe you'll find a friend who'll respond to your woes.”

Truth be told, while that pretty man she had encountered in the antique shop is good at sales talk, she never had the intention of using such exquisite looking antique book chest just to store some letters she might write for herself.

For her, it seemed too pretty to be used as a venting machine. She swore it, she really did. And yet, here she was, exactly doing what she told herself she wouldn't do.

To be fair, it had been a stressful week for her, none of the things she wanted to happen was going her way and worse, Victor didn't hold back, viciously tearing down the proposal she had painstakingly written in mere minutes within their meeting.

Huh. New record. Even in his standards.

If it weren't for her trampled ego, she would've given him an applause right there and then.

Ah. No use of lamenting. What’s done is done, she supposed. Though, she thought dreamily. A show featuring that fairy tale doesn’t seem so bad, right?

Sighing for the umpteenth time, her eyes flitted back to the proposal, wondering if she could convince Victor to let her do the show though, flipping through the proposal, she could feel her anger igniting back, recalling Victor’s words.

What did that Overlord asked again? Groaning, she pulled herself out of her bed, sitting down at her desk as she read through the notes, finding herself seriously pondering about that Capitalist Tyrant's key questions that he had written in bright red ink.  

Firstly, the second son, Prince Shaw, is described as too much of unrealistic villain. To be introduced as impudent, reckless, and then cunning, it is a wonder how he is able to successfully rise to the throne. Where would you find a guy like this? Given his upbringing, do you think a person could exude such characteristics?

Secondly, the benevolent queen had been killed off too early. Quite plausible but still, it lack reasoning.

And thirdly, that first son, Prince Gavin was it? Despite his sense of justice and righteousness, for him to be the lead seemed off-putting. It seems that the redeemable factor about him is just his tremendous skills but that's just how lead characters are, right? Do you really want a boring and predictable character? Him being righteous puts him as naïve to some. If he were to rule, how will his ideology come to play?

Agh. Can’t she worry about this in the morning? That energy sucking monster just took off years from her life and not to mention, the remaining two brain cells she was desperate to keep. Placing the proposal to her newly christened venting machine, she hoped things will get better in the morning.

That, is what she thought of before going to bed. Just how low her luck can be? Why is there a single piece of paper in place of the thick proposal she had placed inside her venting machine? She couldn’t have misplaced it right? To assure herself that she wasn’t caught in one of her early morning delirium, she managed to turn her humble place upside down just for the missing proposal. 

She’s not dreaming. There was really a piece of paper in place of the thick proposal. Feeling the bile rising through her throat, the panic that she had been putting off finally caught upon her as she took the paper with trembling hands.

Who would even dare steal a proposal?! Much less a poorly written one?!?- Overlord’s words, not hers.

Opening the piece of letter, she began reading its contents only for her blood to run cold.

To the Unknown Intruder,

It would seem you have no regard with the thing attached to your neck; entering into my room, and leaving such... tale like this.

Pray tell, exactly just how have you snuck past the surveillance planted on me? Given how tight the security, you must've trained hard- are you perhaps a spy? Quite terrible in your job, if you ask me.

Odd, are you? For how can a spy spout such... inconceivable nonsense about my appearance? Surely, that head of yours isn't just for decoration, won't you agree? Your descriptive notions about myself are quite... how to put it? Fanatical?

I dare not offer any comment about your description of my appearance but for your sake, my skills, while they are as you say, tremendous in power, they are fruits of hard labor and extensive training, so please do not misunderstand. If you had done extensive inquiry, this wouldn't be of an issue to you.

Your actions, although treacherous enough for you to be executed, are quite bold. To write something as appalling and exquisite had peaked my interest- your notion of the royal family is quite out there, wouldn't you agree? Nonetheless, the courage you possess is quite commendable- sending this letter had given me the amusement I needed hence I will let your actions slide this time.

PS. To your question where would you find a guy like him, in the Western Kingdom, I'm afraid. He had been like this since he had been born and for us to receive the same upbringing, it would be presumptuous of me to say that it was all him that made who he was now. As you say, quite reckless, yeah?

Son of a benevolent queen who was rather killed early (please don't speak ill of my deceased mother like that again), Brother of an unrealistic villain, and boring and predictable ,

Gavin of the Western Kingdom

This couldn’t be a prank, could it? Just what in the world did she get herself into?

Anon, if there’s something that made me smile today, it’s your request. I would like to extend my gratitude towards your kind words and your chosen word.

I have to apologize now for not adhering to the request of little drabble for the sole purpose of finally writing this particular trope I’ve been eyeing for months now. So when I saw your request, how can I let go of the perfect opportunity?

I’ve been eyeing the trope of lovers from different time period brought together through letters. This particular piece is heavily inspired by the manhwa I’ve been reading- I REALLY LOVE THAT PARTICULAR MANHWA!

Overall, I had fun in writing this piece- even the painstaking process of piecing everything together and figuring how to do the pacing and putting it into a limit of words. I really hope you like this, beloved nonny. **I may continue this one in a different entry, we shall see.

Send in some prompts!

MLQC Dictionary; Masterlist

#mlqc #mlqc dictionary #koi to producer #love and producer #love x evol #mr love dream date #mldd #mr. love dream date #evol x love #mr love queen’s choice #mr. love queen's choice #mlqc bai qi #mlqc gavin #mlqc haku #gavin’s birthmonth prompt

[benreillyscarletspider]

Red Dwarf Series One Starter Sentences

“Have you ever been hit over the head with a welding mallet?”

“The only reason they don't give this job to the service robots is they've got a better union than us.”

“You touch that guitar, [name], I'll remove the E string and garrote you with it.”

“ Can I do anything? Is it OK if I breathe? Can I breathe?”

“This is not cheating! It's merely an aid to memory. Helps me marshal the facts already in my command.”

“What does this mean? What does any of it mean? I've covered my body in complete and utter and total absolute nonsense gibberish!”

“Although you exist, you no longer exist in time, and, for you, time itself does not exist. You see, although you're still a mass, you are no longer an event in space-time; you are a non-event mass with a quantum probability of zero.”

“I've been on my own for three million years, and I'm just used to saying what I think. I think I've gone a bit peculiar, to tell you the truth.”

“ Never again will I be able to brush a rose against my cheek, cradle a laughing child, or interfere with a woman sexually.”

“Lots of people have died. Lots of people have died and then gone on and done really, really well.”

“I know it's wrong of me to speak ill of the dead and all that, but you're still a smeghead.”

“Looking nice. No, wait a minute. I'm looking better than nice. I'm looking dangerous.”

“He's your father? No wonder you're so ugly.”

“You are how you look, and I look like a complete and total tit!”

“Switch me on, switch me off, like I'm some battery-powered sex aid.”

“Death isn't the handicap it used to be in the olden days. It doesn't screw your career up like it used to.”

“It's gonna take 4000 years just to turn around. You can't do a three point turn when you're this close to lightspeed, you know.”

“You'll be in your element if insects are in control.You'll probably get a decent job at last.”

“Oh, just because I'm a toaster, I'm tone deaf?”

“Watch my lips. What ... is ... hap ... pening?”

“Hey, it hasn't happened, has it? It has ‘will have going to have happened' happened, but it hasn't actually 'happened' happened yet, actually.”

“It will be happened; it shall be going to be happening; it will be was an event that could will have been taken place in the future. Simple as that.”

“You know, I wish I was someone else. Then I could kiss me.”

“It's not fair. There's loads of things I've never done. Like... I've never had a prawn vindaloo. And I've never read... A book. And I wanted to have a family. And I wanted to have loads of practice in the things that you've got to do to get a family.”

“You can't whack death on the head!”

“ If he comes near me, I'm gonna rip his nipples off!”

“Yeah, well, everyone dies. You're born, and you die. The bit in the middle's called life, and that's still to come!”

“That woman's out of your league. She's just too classy for you.”

“I'm looking nice. My hair is nice. My face is nice. My suit is nice. I'm looking really nice!”

“You really must think I'm stupid. I'll deal with you two later.”

“You've got the brains of diarrhea and the breeding of a maggot.”

“I laughed so hard I nearly puked.”

“Of course you're tense, you rectum-faced pygmy!”

“Well, we'll give him ten seconds to come back from the dead, and, if he hasn't managed it, we'll presume I'm in charge.”

“If a job's worth doing, it's worth doing well. If it's not worth doing, give it to [Name].”

“It's obviously beyond me. I've got more teeth than brain cells, remember?”

“What's the point of buying a toaster with artificial intelligence if you don't like toast?”

“My mind is open to new cultures, and new ways of looking at and doing things.”

“There's nobody out there. No alien monsters, no Zargon warships, no beautiful blondes with beehive hairdos who say 'Show me some more of this Earth thing called kissing.’.”

“If there's no one out there, what's the point in existence? Why are we here?”

“Smooth with a capital SMOO.”

“Hey, you monkeys are smarter than I thought.”

“I just don't know why I bother. I'd get more sense out of a squashed hedgehog.”

“Six breasts!? Imagine making love to a woman with six breasts!”

“Imagine making love to a woman!”

“This is terrible. Holy wars. Killing. They're just using religion as an excuse to be extremely crappy to each other.”

“I'm not a god! I've just been... Misquoted.”

“That's a fearsome hat.”

“I renounced coolness, and chose the righteous path of slobbiness.”

“But, as one by one we died, my faith died also.”

“I was thinking it might help pass the time if I created a perfectly functioning replica of a woman, capable of independent decision-making and abstract thought and absolutely undetectable from the real thing.”

“It must mean something. You don't dream about someone that you don't feel something for.”

“I once had a dream about a baboon but that doesn't mean I want to go to bed with it.”

“I happen to agree with their philosophy that love is a sickness that holds back your career and makes you want to spend all your money.”

“Love is a device invented by bank managers to make us overdrawn.”

“What makes us different from animals is we don't use our tongues to clean our own genitals.”

“Hey, this has been a good day. I've eaten five times, I've slept six times, and I've made a lot of things mine.Tomorrow, I'm gonna see if I can't have sex with something.”

“If you weren't my friend, I'd steal your shoes.”

“No, you're a filthy, stinking, loathsome,disgusting object I wouldn't be seen dead with in a plague pit.”

“I just love that accent. It makes me go all wibbly!”

“Bet you've got a terminal disease.Always happens to the people who least expect it.”

“Forget those losers. Let's go party.”

“Oh, he's drunk. Yes. I can smell it from here.”

“Ding dong! Another great idea from the people who brought you beer milkshakes!”

“Why should she be interested in you?”

“Yeah, why should she be interested in me?”

“You're great! You're an incredibly seductive, charming, charismatic, young stud!”

“You've got a body like a coat hanger! How can you make a spacesuit look like evening wear?”

“In space, no one can hear you cha-cha-cha!”

“He didn't suffer! I just fed him into the waste grinder and flushed his bits into space.”

“Who told you you needed oxygen, huh? Some loser who was trying to make you feel small.”

“Look, if she comes back and she's not interested, I can handle it.”

“A-ha! The Pop-Up Kama Sutra - Zero Gravity Edition!”

“My death is one of the most important things that ever happened to me.”

“Are you saying you never became an officer because you shared your quarters with someone who hummed?”

“Hey, I'm looking so good today! If I looked any better, I'd be illegal!”

“I am feeling very, very sexy!”

“Sensual emergency! Good lovin' needed bad!”

“I'm far, far, far too much of a gentleman to stoop to that kind of shower-room mentality.”

“Well, I'm sorry I didn't have time to sit down and bash out a speech in iambic pentameter. I was hit in the face by an atomic explosion.”

“SHUT UP, YA DEAD GIT!”

“STOP YOUR FOUL WHINING, YA FILTHY PIECE OF DISTENDED RECTUM!”

“Nothing major. But it goes without saying: IT WAS HIS FAULT!”

“Will you two guys just grow up?”

“ This can't go on. One of youse has gotta go.”

“Ippy-dippy, my space shippy, on a course so true; past Neptune and Pluto's moon, the one I choose is you.”

“I don't believe it. I've been ippy-dippied to death.”

“There's precious little entertainment on this ship. I mean, if you can't attend the odd execution, what have you got left?”

“I thought they were laughing at the chef, when all the time,they were laughing at me as I ate my piping hot gazpacho soup!”

#memes #starters #starter sentences #rp memes #rp starters #okay to reblog

[honeymoonjin]

enjoy your stay chapter three

A/N This is a re-write of the actual chapter, which got completely deleted when I tried to get rid of a self-reblog (ugly evil tumblr) so it might not be perfect! I’ll do my best to keep in everything I put in last time (and from now on I’m going to back up my fics).

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven

ENJOY YOUR STAY ↳Boss!Namjoon, Chef!Jin, Receptionist!Hoseok, Bellboy!Jimin, Bartender!Jungkook, Accountant!Yoongi, Photography student!Taehyung ↳Some inappropriate language and cursing. Later chapters will have sexual content.

SUMMARY ↳Working the graveyard shift at a hotel isn’t the most exciting job in the world, but your coworkers are certainly happy to have you here.

CHAPTER ONE ↳Supporting your colleagues is an important part of your job description, although this kind of comfort is probably not what Namjoon had it mind. It also lands you in a precarious position when a certain someone knows more than he should.

Most days when you did your final round, Jin had long since gone. He started a few hours before you to prepare for the dinner service, then was the last to lock up and leave. Occasionally he would hang around for a bit to trial a new dish or fill out an order form, but as it was 6am, he should’ve been out for a few hours.

So when you entered the kitchen one last time for the night, and saw the walk-in-chiller door sightly ajar, with a strange snuffling noise coming from inside, your first thought was a burglar or a raccoon.

In fact, you recalled Jungkook once telling you a story about an escaped convict who once broke into the hotel to hide from the cops. Namjoon had repeatedly reassured you that Jungkook was just winding you up, but like watching a scary movie at night, you can’t help but feel unsafe anyway.

You creep into the kitchen as quietly as you could manage, and grab the broom from the corner to hold out as a makeshift weapon.

Tiptoeing slowly, heart racing in your chest, you slowly pushed open the door a little further with the end of the broomstick.

The snuffling stopped.

You froze in your tracks.

It wasn’t a pest or an intruder at all, but the mad chef himself, cross-legged on the freezing cold floor, crying into a 20 litre tub of vanilla ice cream.

The two of you stare at each other in silence for what is surely over a full minute, then you awkwardly lower the broom. With watery eyes and a puffy face, he gestures with his head for you to join him.

You hunker down into a cross legged position beside him and ask what’s wrong.

He sniffs again, miserable. “My girlfriend left me,” he mumbles. Another tear tracks down the side of his face, and he doesn’t bother to wipe it away before it gathers on his chin, and drops into the slowly melting tub of dessert. He reaches a hand up to the cabinet behind him, opens the top drawer, and fumbles around the cutlery until he produces a dessert spoon identical to the one in his hand. “Dig in,” he sighs, “it’s probably got a little bit of snot in it, but it’s still good.”

Not wanting to make him feel worse, you dip your spoon into the tub, finding what looks to be the most solid portion of ice cream in the hope that you’ve successfully avoided any bodily fluids. “Did she say why?” You ask, watching with concern as he shovels his face with another spoonful.

He swallows too soon and winces as the cold gives him a headache. He nods his head sorrowfully. “We never see each other. She works during the days at a pre-school, and then I’m here all night. She told me we were more like roommates than a couple. She didn’t even tell me in person, either, just called me in the middle of the dinner rush. I had to go back to grilling filet and try not to burst into tears like a sad loser.” He wipes his nose with the sleeve of his chef’s uniform and sniffs again.

You let your spoonful of ice cream melt in your mouth before responding, taking the time to consider the situation. “I’m really sorry that that happened to you, Jin, but it seems like maybe it was for the best.”

He moans low in his throat. “I know, I guess I’m just destined to die alone.”

You blink. “That’s not what I was going for. All you need to do is date somebody who works a night shift as well. Problem solved.”

He pauses, head still bent over the tub, and slowly turns to face you, a glimmer of hope sparkling behind unshed tears. “You think?” He sits up, licks his lips once, then leans in towards you.

“Oh!” You sit back quickly. “I was meaning in general. It wasn’t…self promotion, or anything.” You mentally berate yourself for not thinking through your phrasing before you said it.

He lets out a heavy sigh which breaks off into another sob, and reaches for his spoon again. For a few moments you sit in silence as he makes incredible progress down the massive tub. It had never really occurred to you to think of Jin in that way, but now that you were confronted with the reality of it, you noticed how good-looking Jin was, even through the tears.

He was clearly sweet and sensitive, too, if he was taking a break-up this hard.

You blame your hormones, or maybe your lack of action over the past few months, but you wait until he swallows his current mouthful, and reach out your hand, pushing his chin towards you.

His mouth opens slightly, pouting in confusion, and you just can’t resist yourself from leaning in, finishing what he tried to start just a few moments earlier.

For a second, he doesn’t respond, sitting rigidly, eyes wide open. But when you drop your spoon on the floor, and bring up your other hand to cup his palm and slide your fingers into the hair at the back of his neck, he lets out a shaky breath and leans into it.

His eyelashes flutter against the bridge of your nose when he closes his eyes, and his arm flies up, hand caressing your elbow. He tilts his head slightly to deepen the kiss, and a cold, vanilla-flavoured tongue finds its way into your mouth, the two of you groaning at the drastic contrast of temperatures.

Kissing Jin is like the first moment when a rollercoaster tips downwards, and jolts of adrenaline run through your system like livewires. In the back of your mind you can’t help but wonder how great he must be at making out normally if this is him in a post-breakup funk.

His teeth graze the inner edge of your bottom lip and nip a little, and his mouth swallows up the gasp you let out.

His warm palm slowly moves up your elbow to your shoulder, then dips down to rest against the side of your chest, thumb rubbing along the band of your bra under your shirt. He’s taller than you when sitting, and he’s leaning over just enough that you are tipping back slowly, letting his other arm snake around your middle back to keep you from falling over.

When your brain stops doing cartwheels, and you start to come back to your senses, you can hear delicate, needy whines coming out of his mouth periodically.

His hand comes back up to tip your jaw back, and his mouth falls to your neck, the chilled skin on his lips causing you to break out in goosebumps and shiver wildly.

He leaves a trail of open mouthed kisses down your neck, teeth grazing and tongue laving over the skin.

Your eyes have been squeezed shut in bliss for a while, but when you open them slightly and see the plain concrete ceiling of the chiller, you realise where you are at what you’re doing.

Your hands push against his face, using a fair amount of force to break him away from your neck and get him to stop.

Both of you are panting desperately, and the wet patches on your skin are freezing in the cold air.

“We can’t do this here, Jin, and we can’t do this now.” You huff a few breaths before continuing, feeling your heart rate slow back down to normal levels. “You’ve had a rough day, and I think you probably need to go home and sleep it off. I don’t want you to do something you will regret because you’re feeling upset right now. We can talk later, okay.”

He nods and sighs heavily, hoisting himself off the ground. He dusts off the seat of his pants, and picks up the tub of ice cream and two spoons. “I guess this isn’t exactly food safe anymore,” he ponders out loud, “I should just take it home with me.”

You hear him dump the spoons in the sink, and you get up to follow him. He’s wiped his face off with his apron, and looks a little less miserable than he did when you arrived. You look at the time on the microwave and are shocked to see that you spent over half an hour in there. No wonder your nose feels numb.

“Thank you for…comforting me,” Jin murmurs, retrieving his bag from the lockers.

“Look, if you have any problems, or you can’t get to sleep today, just call me, yeah? I’m here for you.”

He nods, but doesn’t seem convinced. “I don’t want to wake you and ruin your sleep just because I’m having a rough time.”

“That’s exactly why Mr Coffee invented his wonder drink. Don’t you worry about that, okay?”

“Coffee was discovered by an Ethiopian goatherd, actually. But I’ll send Mr Coffee your regards.” A weak smile graces his face as his eyes narrow in mischief.

“Okay, smart-ass, get some sleep.”

Without further ado, he leaves out the back entrance, and the room returns to silence. You shut the chiller door again, and hang around in the kitchen, checking out your reflection in the stainless steel of the backsplash. After a few moments to compose yourself, you push through the double doors that lead you into the restaurant proper.

And bump right into a solid chest.

You let out a little squeak and step back, ready to rattle off an apology when you stop in your tracks.

Taehyung stares down at you, a mischievous grin lighting up his face. You swallow hard, attempting to pass around him, but his hands latch onto your shoulders and hold you in place.

“You look a little worse for wear, Miss Manager. I sure hope you weren’t up to any nonsense in there.”

You shrug noncommittally, trying to ignore the rush of delight you have at feeling the warm weight of his hands on your shoulders when you try to push them up.

He doesn’t seem put off by your lack of response. “I do imagine my lovely brother would be extremely disappointed to hear that his sweet little night manager was off fucking the chef on company time.” He wiggles his eyebrows wickedly.

“We didn’t fuck!” The defence jumps out of your throat before you can phrase it better, and you clear your throat awkwardly. “We didn’t have sex. Why do you care, anyway?”

He draws his head back slightly to get a better look at you. “You’re telling me that if I march you down to Namjoon’s office and tell him I walked in on the two of you in a rather compromising situation, that he’ll believe you over me? Have you see yourself?”

You had. Even through the warped reflection on the oven door, you could see how your hair stuck up at odd angles, and your throat was lined with a trail of red.

You keep your expression neutral. “What do you want?”

His triumphant grin is something to behold.

Jimin is unbelievably hot. You know that, he knows that, the old ladies that stay at the hotel longer than they originally booked for know that. But, as it turns out, so does Taehyung.

An eye for an eye, he phrased it. His brother was so overprotective of him that he never let him bring back girls or guys to the hotel, so his only option for a good time would have to be within the hotel walls.

You were just glad he didn’t outright proposition you, although your current situation wasn’t much better.

You were crouched behind the vending machine, waiting for Jimin to leave room 7.

He was a real hit with older, single women, and he certainly knew how to milk it for all the tips he could get.

They would get an eyeful of him in the lobby, then call Hoseok’s desk however many times a day for the most mundane of chores - changing lightbulbs, showing them how the TV worked, killing a spider that had snuck into the room - all for the sole purpose to get another few moments alone with Jimin.

You were pretty sure with the amount of tips he got, that Jimin probably got paid more than any other staff member in the hotel at this point.

Finally, the door cracked open, and Jimin strolled out, turning around and saying a sweet goodbye to Mrs Ji. Her spindly little hand snuck out of the doorway to tuck a wad of cash into his belt like he was a stripper. His face flushed pink and his smile grew even wider.

The moment he shut the door, he was grabbing the cash and counting through it, pleased at his haul.

You intercepted him as he past, and he grinned when he looked up and saw who it was. “Guess what? Mrs Ji pretended she dropped her book under the bed, so I bent over to fish it out for her, and this glorious ass of mine just earned me two nights worth of work.”

“Ah, my darling Jimin, you walk the line between bellboy and prostutite so well.”

“I do, don’t I?” He flashed you a shit-eating grin, and the two of you began to continue on down the hallway to the main lobby.

You steeled yourself and took your chance. “You see that Taehyung kid around?”

“Namjoon’s brother? Yeah, he’s here this time every year.” He let out an airy sigh. “What a man.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Wait, you’re interested in him?”

Jimin mistook your surprise for jealousy, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, bringing you in close as you walked. “Don’t worry, babe, you’re still my best girl.”

Flushing darkly from the compliment, but trying not to get distracted, you pressed on. “No, it’s just that he seems pretty into you too. You should go for it. I can cover for you.”

He hums in consideration. “I probably would, only that he’s completely off-limits.”

“What do you mean?”

“You think Namjoon would react well to me being balls deep in his kid brother?” You cringe and quickly glance around the hallway to make sure it was still empty. “Although, the danger of being caught is pretty hot.” His hand squeezes your shoulder playfully. “I must say, I like how you’re pimping me out to the hotel guests. Very dom of you. Are you sure you don’t want to cut out the middle man and just have sleep with me yourself?”

The look in his eyes tells you while he’s bantering with you, he’s dead serious. You laugh awkwardly. “I have to go pick up something from Namjoon’s office. See ya.” You wiggle your way out of his embrace and run back the way you came.

Before your shift ends, you’re knocking desperately on Tae’s door. He takes a while to answer, and when he does, it’s clear he just woke up by the bleary gaze and mussed up hair. He brightens up when he sees you, and ushers you in, clearly expecting news.

“I’ve done my best, but you need to actually put some effort in here.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” he exclaims, “is that any way to speak to the man who’s blackmailing you?”

You roll your eyes, stubbornly trying to avoid the delicious sight of him wearing only boxers and a pair of socks. In an effort not to drool over the golden planes of his chest, you make your way around the room. It only takes you a couple of seconds to take it in, but it’s so obviously his room. A couple of tripods are shoved into the skinny wardrobe, every plug outlet is swarmed with charging cables and expensive equipment, and the desk is filled with pictures and sketches. You sit down at the desk, and flick through some of the pictures as you talk.

He definitely has a talent for photography, and the photos he has taken of the hotel are absolutely beautiful. You pause on one of the hotel pool, which is closed until summer, and is currently overgrown with vines and flowers. The photo is a close up of a dragonfly hovering over the glimmering surface of the pool, with pink petals out of focus floating on the water. He seems uncomfortable with you inspecting his work, so you put them down and turn back to him.

“Jimin’s interested in you, but he doesn’t want Namjoon to find out. If you don’t make a move on him soon, he’s going to find someone less risky to get with.”

“You, you mean.” It’s not a question, and your mouth drops open. “Don’t worry, I’m well aware of the way he looks at you. It may not be obvious to you so far, but I’m a very generous man. I’m quite happy to share.”

You excuse yourself after that, not having anything else to say, and not knowing how to respond. It’s only hours later, when you toss and turn in your bed and ruminate about the stressful night you’ve had, that you realise you don’t know which one of you he was planning to share with whom.

#bts fanfic #bts fic #bts au #bts x reader #jin x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #enjoy your stay

[artificialqueens]

I Can't Love You (Biadore, Adore/past relationship) - doctor bitchcraftt

How long does it take to stop loving someone?  Bianca wishes she had an answer for Adore.

I don’t think that I ever got over you

How many guys do I have to break in order to?

We hear the best way to get over is to under, but you’re the cloud crashing loud in this London thunder

Now my eyes match these December skies

I’ll be fine, It takes time, You were mine

In my head I cant stand in your truth

I’m wasting all my 20’s still loving you

A/N: Sweet and a little sad, based on Adore’s December 2018 tweets about getting over an anonymous someone.  Ends with Biadore in bed.  Non-AU.  Xoxoxoxo, bitchcraftt.

********

“Hey B, can I ask you something?"  Adore’s question came from the other side of the couch and took a moment to register with Bianca as different from her nonsensical chatter to Sammy and Dede.

"Sure."

"How long does it take to get over someone?”

Quietly, Bianca closed the book in her lap and rearranged herself to lean over the back of the couch.  Adore was still sitting cross-legged on the floor with Dede in her lap and an unusually pensive expression.

“Depends on who and how long and how the breakup happened."  It wasn’t a deliberate attempt to avoid the question, although her brain tossed out at least four ways to change the subject ranging from subtle to blatant.

"It’s…” Adore drew in a slow breath, staring down at the sleeping dog as if the answer would be apparent there.  She shrugged.  “Nevermind, forget about it.”

Pressing Adore for an answer would likely result in her actively diverting the conversation, so Bianca turned back towards the coffee table and re-opened the book with a noncommittal noise of agreement.  While her hands turned the pages on automatic, her mind spun into overdrive trying to fit together the non-sequitur.  

A few minutes later, Adore set Dede on her bed and stepped over the gate to come around the couch.  She didn’t plant herself next to where Bianca was pretending to read, casually invade her personal space, or mention being hungry, which would have been expected.  Instead, she wandered over to the windows, leaning on the glass and drumming her fingers to the beat of an unheard song.

Bianca was used to quicksilver changes in mood and conversation, but experience meant she knew Adore usually spoke whatever was on her mind.  Especially between the two of them (or four, counting the C and D of season six).  Generally speaking, she would be more than happy to drop a subject when Adore’s train of thought derailed (or changed to a completely non-parallel track).  Right then though, something about the way she was fidgeting suggested that there was more to it than a passing half-idea.  As far as Bianca knew there hadn’t been any changes in Adore’s relationship status, so it probably wasn’t anything recent.  And if it wasn’t recent, she wasn’t sure what part of lunch out and playing with the dogs might have brought it up to begin with.

She watched Adore’s lips move, silently speaking.  Unfortunately, Bianca was at the wrong angle to even try to decipher what she might be saying.  With a sigh, she gave up all pretense of reading, setting the book aside and joining Adore at the window.

“Sometimes I wanna erase everything.”  

The quiet statement hung in the air between one breath and the next, and Bianca found herself at an uncharacteristic loss for words.

“…talk to me?”

Adore shook her head, but nonetheless turned away from the window to face her fully.  

“Nothing.  Just…been writing, and some stuff keeps coming up.  Like the same old shit that you just want to get over or past or whatever, but it keeps following you?”

“Yeah.  It does.”  

Bianca understood far too well.  She might be almost a decade and a half older, but she wasn’t immune to it either.  Part of her knew that the nonstop work was a way to deflect and distract, taking refuge in her safe place - on the stage.

“Sometimes I want to unfeel something, you know?”  

“Yeah,” Bianca repeated, “I do.”

********

The remainder of the daylight slipped away between them in silence, Adore lost in thought and Bianca ostensibly on her phone, although she couldn’t keep herself from looking up every time Adore shifted.  Silence between them was usually a comfortable thing, and she did her best to respect it this time.  

They ordered in Thai for dinner, and after cleaning up the empty boxes Bianca finally gave in to the urge to address the elephant in the room (Darienne jokes aside).  

“Talk to me, pussyface?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would break the fragile something Adore was trying to manage.

“Still not over him.”  Adore sounded equal parts defeated and frustrated.  “It’s fucking with my brain today.”

Bianca didn’t insult their friendship by pretending not to know exactly who and what she was referring to.

”There’s no time limit on it.”  

Scooting closer, she wrapped an arm around Adore’s shoulders where she was laid out on the chaise.  

Behind the devil-may-care exterior, Adore felt things even more deeply than it appeared on the surface.  That same vulnerability that hypnotized audiences when she was on stage translated into an equally deep capacity for hurt.

“It makes great lyrics, but every time I think I’ve written it out of me, it’s still there.  I’m tired of it, B.”  Adore reached up to entwine their fingers, seemingly engrossed in examining the chipped black nail polish.

“Like I’m so lucky to wake up every day into doing this life.  This is what I want to do, and I hate that that isn’t enough.  It feels so fucking ungrateful.”

“It’s not you being ungrateful, it’s what you’re feeling.“ Bianca sighed and rested her cheek against the top of Adore’s head.  “I’m not gonna give you some bullshit line about learning and moving on, because you’re not that dumb.

“Anyone who tells you that you can control what you’re feeling is a liar.  And,” she added, “I can tell you that you can’t drink it away.  Still there when you’re sober.”

”I don’t want to love him anymore.”

Bianca squeezed her hand.  

“I know.”

********

The dogs were long since asleep when Bianca checked the time.  

“Sleepy yet?”  

Adore didn’t look particularly tired, but it was a fair question.  They’d gone through a decent amount of vodka, although not enough that Bianca was concerned with her ability to navigate down the block only half awake.

“Can I stay?”  The echo of the oft-used phrase when traveling together brought the smallest ghost of a smile.

”Course you can.  M’tired though.”

Nodding, Adore released her hand and Bianca stood, feeling her back protest at the hours spent slouched.

After checking that the alarm was set and brushing her teeth (she’d heard Adore using mouthwash in the other bathroom), Bianca wasn’t surprised to find her already in bed.

She settled under the covers and switched off the light, patiently waiting for Adore to decide if she needed the comfort of touch or just wanted to share the covers.

”Thank you.”  Adore’s voice came from a foot away on the pillow.

”Hmmmm?”

“For you know.  Not telling me I’m stupid.”

“Bitch.  Of course you’re a stupid queen sometimes.  Just not about this.”

“And not being weird about this.” The glow of the phone screen illuminated Adore’s quirked lips.  “I’m gonna stay up a bit.”

Bianca hmmm’d in agreement, then turned on her side to face her, confused. “Weird about what?”

“This.”  Adore made gesture with her free hand that looked like a cross between a one-arm shrug and pointing down at the duvet.  “You know, not being judgy and stuff.”

” ‘Stuff’?”  She wasn’t usually the one late to the party in catching on.

“Like if I posted where we are, people would freak out about it.”

”…in L.A.?”

Adore set her phone down on the bed.  “You.  Me.  Bed together.”

Bianca was really beginning to feel like Adore was having a different conversation.  “We share all the time?  Who gives a fuck about it?”

”You know.  The fans and stuff.”

Rolling the rest of the way over, she lifted her head off the pillow just enough to squint in Adore’s direction.  “I’m not explaining anything to a bunch of idiots on social media.  None of their business anyway.”

Adore was silent long enough that Bianca wondered if she’d fallen asleep.  Then, “Love you.”

”I love you too,” she mumbled into the pillow. “And don’t post anything if I don’t have a shirt on.”

#rpdr fanfiction #bianca del rio #adore delano #biadore #hurt/comfort #canon compliant #doctor bitchcraftt #song fic

[rowanartist]

Fan fiction quotes 2019:

"with great foods, came great emotional baggage"[X]extra funny since I just saw Into the Spiderverse

"Just get together every couple of weeks, without Stark, and you guys can pass Steve around like a bong."[ch2]whaat? And chapter three is a dirty parody - worth a read for the humor of it

"he just hopes Tony has the sense God gave concussed baby sheep "[X]interesting phrase

"“Science,” Jane says, drawing his face to hers, “Does not require pants "[X]fun series of short fics

"Never something so hot; not like a flame is hot, but the strength of something bathed in summer sun. "[X]interesting view on attraction

"(He'd been sketching when he thought that through; now there's a page that has a little cartoon of himself, ducking, with the caption "the spoons are attacking!" although he'd ended up finishing his latte before he actually drew any flying spoons.) "[X]Steve upon learning about spoon theory

"Can you think of anything that symbolizes the eighties better than David Bowie’s crotch in tights? "[X]giggle out loud! "You drink once if someone whines, if Sarah says something isn’t fair, or if we get a shot of Bowie’s crotch. "[Same]comment

"“Like you’re going to vibrate out of your skin?” Natasha finished for him, understanding. Sometimes, after what they’d been through, it was hard just to be in your body. Easier to dissociate, to let whatever was going to happen happen while the part of you that was you floated far away. Natasha had been there before, and she knew James went there sometimes. "[X]ponder?

"They’re each wrapped up in their own blanket burrito, lying side by side in the dark, sharing one pillow. "[X]dual blanket burritos

"For most of his life he learned the safest option was to repress his emotional responses as much as possible, and over time he forgot how to access them when he actually needed to. "[X]relatable to a small degree

"Nothing too special but I’m pretty much Michael Bay’s wet dream "[X]to describe bakugo lol

"Most people," Midoriya continued gently, "don't need to be told they have a crush by the person that they have the crush on."[X]my boyfriend can relate to Midoriya here...

"about how if Midoriya could go this long talking without breathing in any new air, he'd probably be really good at kissing. "[same]lol

"God, fuck off. You look so freshly screwed that it hurts me. "[X]Bakugo ;p

"After all, shodō is one of Shouto’s hobbies. For Midoriya’s birthday last year, he made a beautiful poster of UA’s motto that is now displayed prominently above Midoriya’s bed. "[X]draw? If i can? "Please don’t use your All Might voice when we’re making plans to have sex. "[Same]lol

"He’d known for a while that his boyfriend internalizes, that he still struggles with a lot of insecurities and periodic depression from his years around his dad "[X]comment

"Shouto you’re worth more than anything. And you deserve happiness. I don’t care what micro-dick has said to you in the past or any shit he spews out of the mouth that’s somehow more obnoxious than Present Mic "[same]dam it Endeavor :/ "You’re a dork,” Izuku mutters in a break for breath. “Your dork,” Shouto says quietly "[Same]awww

"But if you ever forget your phone again I will use you as an advertisement balloon for a day, and that’s a promise."[X]lol

"First of all, I challenge you to find a dress that can fit that shoulders to waist ratio.” Shouto replied, matter-of-factly, pointing at Izuku’s entire body. “Secondly, you absolutely lack the manners to be a princess, you brute.” "[X]part of a series

"Another young woman that couldn’t be older than Shouto and Izuku looked up at the call. She had a round face and long, brown hair with little orange streaks every now and then collected in a braid. The red rimmed glasses she wore made her yellow eyes look bigger, behind the lenses. She lit up, when she saw them. "[X]need to try to draw

"You’d die of embarrassment— Either that, or Aizawa-sensei would kill you. And I kind of like you alive, thank you very much.” "[same]LOL

" is standing there in grey sweats and a loose Totoro hoodie he got him on one of their first dates "[X]draw

"It definitely didn’t help that Izuku stretched lazily, something akin to a cat just waking up from a nap, one of his legs stretching against the wall as the opposite arm reached towards Shouto with fingers spread wide-open. "[X]DRAW!

"What? They’re really short, all my boxers showed and it was weird. "[X]...

"Just because he isn’t as obvious about it, doesn’t mean Shouto isn’t beyond anxious too. "[X]comment

"He doesn’t treat Shouto like he is fragile, but he treats him like he is precious, and that is an important distinction"...."Something precious, however, doesn’t necessarily break easy, but it warrants the utmost care. It’s meant to be cherished. "[X]relationship advice

"One of the national dishes has no meat in it, but it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever tasted. I thought we were all going to die and T’Challa was going to succeed in eliminating us. Then I heard him yelling at the chef, saying none of us were used to Wakandan peppers.” "[X]https://archiveofourown.org/works/8688724/chapters/19918951#workskin

"All Tony was supposed to do was fix the alternator. Instead he built me a Jeep that tells me I have to initiate a proper launch sequence before I’m able to turn it on and drive.” "[Same]comment

"I’m sorry,” Midoriya retracts his hand, and Todoroki misses it instantly. “It’s not something I can fix, and that makes me sad. You don’t deserve to hear the things he tells you.” "[X]reread comment. Relatable to a degree personally

"But he has to admit the Docs greener side is awfully useful in a brawl; and his less menacing side has a wicked sense of humor, not to mention awfully good with a med kit. "[X]i like Bruce having a sense of humor

"That's what friends are for anyway, having your back when times are tough, and amusement for when times are peaceful. "[X]amusing

"Bucky didn't think he was being rude, but if Captain America said so, it must be true. "[Same]comment

"Steve’s always been a fan of cuddles, even if he doesn’t like to admit it, admit how much he needs that physical contact. "[X]I'm a fan of this concept

"Which in Steve-speak means that you’re feeling guilty as all hell over things you can’t control – again, mind you – and you can’t rest because you can’t shut your brain up.” "[Same]relate "There’s power in this act, Darcy thinks as she sucks and licks up and down his length. To be able to take someone apart with just her mouth and a few touches of her hands. Reduce them to tears or send them flying upwards into the heavens. And the knowledge that she wants to do this for him – for them – makes the feeling all the more potent. She doesn’t have to do this, but it’s her choice, and she wants to give this to them. "[Same]ponder more

"She may not come from it, but the closeness and the intimacy is far more important than any orgasm. "[X]remember

"He knows better, knows that Bakugou’s punches of greeting and movie nights at Yaoyorozu’s house with Mina, Hagakure, and Tsu, and that baking with Izuku are all love. That’s love, not the villain sat behind the desk. "[X]dark fic, author warns in notes. But this line is sweet

"Natasha Romanoff is a world-class spy, yes. But she’s also a potato chip thief who makes dumb jokes and uses emoticons (she had been very adamant that Steve learn the difference between emoticons and emojis), and Steve adores her for it. "[ch5]she's human

"Bucky flopped onto it rolling around like a dog on the soft surface, Natasha quietly responding by taking out her phone and videoing his nonsense. "[ch2]Mr. Kate style rug cuddle but solo

"“First of all, just because someone is good looking does not mean I should have sex with them. There are attractive serial killers Nat, do you want me to get murdered? Second of all, I don’t know him. Third of all, he’s not looking at me like I’m chicken wings, also Clint, seriously? Chicken wings?” "[same]lol, but I'm with you Bucky

"Even in just plain sweatpants, the American icon without a shirt was an image that would have anyone seeing stars and stripes, regardless of sexual orientation. "[X]:)

"Agent Bishop was hit with a biological weapon today that has a ninety-two per cent chance of ending in fatality within three days unless proper care is administered to disperse the chemical compound through natural methods. Meaning, in the case of humans, sexual release. As in, orgasming."[X]a legalese description of "sex pollen" ...

"Do the horizontal contra dance, yes," Darcy answered. "Well kind of, I mean there's only three of us and a contra dance is four to a group, but tango is just for two and I had to think of something fast. Come on, Stevie, this isn't the first time we've hooked up. "[X]lol

"He wanted something just for him again, even though he felt like a selfish asshole for even thinking it. So he would do whatever he could to chase after that feeling. Even if it was stupid. Even if it was silly. "[ch2]advice, remember "Tony must never read these, Steve thought. Bucky’s arm would never be safe. "[ch3]Steve Discovers FanFiction "Steve stayed focused on the screen, sticking out his tongue a little while he concentrated. It was unfairly adorable. "[ch4]Jarvis knows how to motivate Steve: a Bucky themed typing game "Good things would happen. Funny, clever jokes would be told. Sexy adventures were always available, no matter what was happening in the real world. "[X]relatable "There was even a page of ‘Bucky Approved Sex Words and Phrases’. The name alone never failed to make Steve smile "[ch7]lol "He wasn’t really writing this stuff for the money anyways; mostly he just wanted to see that other people liked and enjoyed what he was doing. "[Same]relatable: my redbubble rowan-artist

"Darcy’s eyes widened. “Oh god, I just imagined you naked, dusted in gold, on a satin-sheeted bed. My mind is a dangerous place.” “Hey, there’s always Halloween.” "[ch6]you being Steve

"Jane was rapidly nearing the angry-bear stage of sleep deprivation (there were seven levels on the Dr. Jane Foster Sleep Deprivation chart; angry bear was number five, between 'genius-level insane productivity' and 'sugar high five-year old'), "[X]also Dean Fury ... "Then you come to me, we'll kill a bottle of Jameson and make Thor carry our drunk asses home while we sing Les Mis horribly off-key," "[same]amusing

"This is why you should always read end-user agreements on friendships. "[X]not the fic but the start notes, lol. Also, Maria's entry is adorable, and Pepper potts!! "(“So what you’re telling me is you spent a week building a glorified roomba,” Rhodey says the first time he sees it, and Tony lets out an undignified huff and makes JUNK-E destroy and clean a grand piano.) "[Same]hahha

"And it’s better to be an asset, which at least sounds like something you value, than a glorified action figure. "[ch3]comment "Steve’s friendship is stronger than even Steve’s shield, and protects them both just as much "[Same ch9]awww

"Bucky actually is, but she knows well enough not to ask. Instead, she has started braiding flowers into Natasha's hair while the other girl of the group is busy making a flower crown for Thor. This is what it must be like to have real friends, Bucky thinks, lounging in his camping chair, trying to eat with one hand while Steve is holding his arm, drawing on the inside of his forearm with a black pen. "[ch2]flower crowns "I heard a lot of things I kind of projected on myself. It's probably stupid, but… it's always crazy to hear things that apply to oneself somehow." "It's the magic of music. Sam once told me about the Mr. Brightside effect–" "[ch4]yes "Bruce is on his own so much that he probably doesn't even notice that he has friends "[ch5]relatable, high school me

"The most beautiful thing however was the wall right next to the bed-- while all the other walls were the same off-white color, this one sported stripes of different colors down. Blue, red, green, purple, black, another shade of lighter blue. In the middle of these stripes, the Avenger signs were painted by a meticulous hand; Cap’s shield, Tony’s arc reactor, Mew Mew, and so on-- Darcy didn’t notice she was crying into Mara started wailing in solidarity "[ch1]draw?

"He knows it, like Steve and Bucky know that Tony needs praises and affection, not commands. "[ch8]...

"She thanked Sif (a habit she had started lately, thanking the Asgardian warrior instead of some non-present God, because really, if there was a god she wanted to follow, it would totally be Sif) "[X]nice Darcy "Even if she wasn’t an Avenger per say, she got to be on the team, both super and nonsuper alike. "[ch2]awww

"Elizabeth is going to make coffee happen, and in Darcy’s eyes that makes her a goddess. "[X]comment "By the end, Steve had been right in the thick of it, using a frypan as a shield and hurling pasta like nobody’s business. "[same]comment "Agent Hill’s bad ass levels are through the roof, but put her in front of a powerpoint and the result is coma-inducing. "[Ch3]lol "JARVIS, my man, I need some fat beats up in here. Help a sister out?” "[ch3]comment

"She knew now that it was almost certainly to do with her personal level of comfort and how hard both Steve and Barnes had worked to make her feel good. "[middle chapter]comment

"A video clip of the Asgardian scientist Tadeas and Neil Degrasse Tyson singing a scientific ballad of their own composition was one of the most viewed Youtube videos of all time "[X]lol "He grabbed [a muffin] and shoved it into his mouth, belatedly peeling the paper off. "[Same]haha! :D "Darcy put a box of Sour Patch Kids on top, “Those are for Heimdall.” "[X]comment "“No. Damnit, Darcy. You’re stubborn. Of course you’re stubborn! Jesus Christ, I can’t even imagine what it must like to be in the same room as the two of you.” "[X]best friend sass "But Clint is a human with a bow on a team of superheroes. "[X]Darcy's favorite avenger and why Ch4 music note "Apparently Thor is back on Earth. He showed up in New York right after we left and basically deafened all of Brooklyn with his displeased shouting about his missing Shield Sister. So now everyone knows I’m gone and my disappearance is trending on Twitter as #MissingAsgardianPrincess. How is this my life?! I can’t even with this shit.” "[X]mild spoiler? HAHAHA "Try having a conversation with one of them [asgardians]-- 4 to 1 odds it turns into some sort of ballad recitation. "[X]...

"The next day, Izuku Midoriya delivered his eleven page elaborate essay on how ordering sex toys inspired him to be more honest with himself and his boyfriend about what he wanted in life and in bed. "[X]lol

"“Fire for stop, ice for slow, and smash for go.” "[X]comment

#fan fiction #fic rec #2019

[princesstarazi]

i’ll probably be watching the new legends ep within the next hour so reminder to blacklist the “lot spoilers” or “beth watches lot” to shield yourself from my nonsense

#although to be fair my brain isn’t really feel nonsense today #i’m tired and just want my veggie burger #tbd

[floralseokjin]

;in the car (m)

all you had was a dead car battery, you weren’t looking for romance, regardless if the charming mechanic had other ideas. You’ve heard stories that could put you off... Can he change your misconceptions, or will they prove correct after all...?

pairing | jung hoseok x reader genre/warnings |  smut, romance, slight angst, mechanic! hoseok, street racer! hoseok words | 14,739

songs | in the car | offonoff + 2002worldcup | hyukoh

“150 bucks,” you repeat, flabbergasted, and watch as the red-haired man in front of you nods his head mindlessly.

“You heard right,” he drawls, before a grin appears on his face—you don’t trust it. “But tell you what, if you pay upfront I’ll do it for 120.”

You inwardly groan. That was too much of a good deal to pass up. You had some cash on you right now, which yes, you’d been planning to blow on some retail therapy today when your car had so conveniently gotten a dead battery, (or so you thought. It turned out you needed a new one all together, stupid piece of shit).  So begrudgingly, and with a heavy heart, you dig through your bag to reach your purse.

“Fine,” you grumble, ripping the notes out to hand to him.

“Pleasure doing business,” he beams, and you roll your eyes. “She’ll be ready by tomorrow.”

“He’ll be ready by tomorrow,” you correct. “My car’s a man, and he’s called Heathcliff.”

He raises both eyebrows slowly, puzzled, maybe even judging you a little before he scoffs with slight amusement. “You’re funny, I like that.”

I wasn’t even trying to be, you think to yourself, seconds away from opening your mouth and answering back, but he beats you you to it.

“Heath will be ready by tomorrow. Midday at the latest,” he tells you.

You squint at him, knowing he’s purposely shortened the name, but you tell yourself you’re too unfazed to start bickering with some random mechanic. You’d only gone to him because he was the closest. All he had to do was fix your car and you’d come to collect it when it was ready. Job done.

“Hoseok’s the name by the way,” he grins, hand out as if he wants you to shake it.

You decline with a questioning look, lips pursed. “And why would I need to know that?”

“It’s only right you know who’s fixing your car,” he shrugs, but retracts his hand anyway. “Like it’s only right I know the name of the person who owns it…”

Clever bastard, you have to give it to him.

You don’t know if this is some kind of flirting technique, or if you’re being horribly bigheaded. Maybe he needs to know it for tax reasons and you’re just being an idiot. However, by the smug smirk on his face right now, you just know right then and there, instantly, it’s the original bigheaded thought. He’s flirting, or at least trying to, but you’re an impenetrable force, there’s no point trying.

You end up giving him your name though… It’s only common courtesy you tell yourself.

That was the first time you meet Jung Hoseok, although you don’t find out his surname quite as soon. You weren’t supposed to find it out at all actually, but you do anyway. Maybe you should’ve known there was something about him as soon as you’d walked into his garage. He was good looking, you give him that. Good looking enough for a flurry of butterflies to start shaking up a storm in your stomach. You’d swallowed it away obviously, and then as soon has he’d shot you that weirdly obnoxious grin you’d been on the defensive. Men who were too sure of themselves turned you off. You didn’t want to know his name, you didn’t want to know his age, you didn’t want to know anything, you couldn’t care less. But that’s not how life works out…

Soon enough you’d want to know everything.

“What do you mean it isn’t ready?” You almost chew his ear off. “You said midday at the latest.”

“There was an emergency,” he shrugs.

“Like what?” You demand. “I paid you to fix it by today.”

120$! It wasn’t like it was ten bucks.

“I’m sorry,” he apologises, but he doesn’t look at all phased. “Tomorrow morning, how does that sound?”

Your try a new approach, knowing it’s what you deserve.

“I like the sound of a discount better.”

“I already gave you one,” he deadpans, chin jutting out in defence as he spins around a spanner in his hand.

“But you also said it’ll be ready by today,” you insist, folding your arms across your chest.

You wait for his reply, standing your ground until you begin to feel unnerved, watching as a slow smirk twitches at his face. He looks like he’s plotting something, or maybe you’re just dramatic.

“How about you let me take you out tomorrow night to make up for it,” is what he says, and you exhale loudly in disbelief.

The nerve. How dare he. Does he think you’ll just fall at his feet because he’s shooting you a dazzling smile? Does he think you’ll be putty in his hands because right now, at this very moment, his biceps are flexing with each spin of the spanner? Or does he think you’ll worship the ground he walks on because his black t-shirt is so tight you can see his pecs through the cotton? The upper half of his overalls are tied around his waist you note, and he slouches back, leaning against one of his worktops as he waits for your reply, seemingly unbothered, or maybe he truly believes he has this in the bag and you’ll say yes… More fool him. You refuse to fall for his charms.

“No,” you exclaim, voice sounding a little strained, still in shock. “Why would I do that?”

He shrugs, still just as unbothered. “Your loss.”

What? That’s it? He’s not even going to look a little disappointed? You bristle curtly, standing straighter now, shoulders out, the epitome of form and confidence.

“It’ll be your loss soon enough if you don’t fix my car by tomorrow morning,” you tell him, and he raises an eyebrow your way, intrigued by your tone.

“I’ll get my money back.”

He chuckles, angering you because he has the nerve to try and belittle your demands, and you grit your teeth, turning on your heel to walk out.

You don’t say goodbye. If he knows what’s good for him he’ll have your car fixed by tomorrow morning.

He pulls through. My threat must have worked, you think smugly to yourself, but he ever so kindly reminds you that he was the one who first made the deadline. He gets a scowl in response and all he does is laugh back. That just makes you even angrier, and you and your car are out the garage before you can blink again, a hasty begrudged thanks leaving you. Somehow you’re left weirdly disappointed he didn’t bring up the date again. Even though you shouldn’t, you most definitely shouldn’t… It’s done, he fixed your car and now you never have to see him again. A fleeting meeting, one you won’t think about ever again after a week or so. However, both are a lie… You can’t seem to shake him, and you end up seeing him again soon enough.

Two weeks later in fact…

To be fair to you, you didn’t plan this. A flat tyre is something no one ever wants, especially when you don’t realise until you’re about to leave for work. Hoseok’s garage is the closest one to you, that’s your excuse. Why would you travel ten more minutes just to get to another?

“We can’t keep meeting like this,” he comments, wiping his hands clean with a rag as you pull up and get out. “Can’t stay away, huh?” He grins.

“In your dreams,” you retort, shutting your door with a thud.

Luckily he’s lax on the witty comebacks today, and you’re thankful when he says he can pump your front tyre up immediately, making you only an hour late for work instead of multiple, or even missing out all together…

Watching him work is pretty interesting, even if you have no interest in cars and all he’s doing is pumping air into some rubber… You’ve been leant against a worktop since he started, careful not to get any oil or dirt on your uniform, agreeing when he suggests he tops up the other wheels too. He’s on the last one when you finally try to pluck a conversation out of thin air. You don’t know why seeing as you’re about five minutes from ditching this place without any intent on coming back.

“So,” you start casually, “are cars your passion?”

He pauses, still hunched over and to your horror he mimics you, voice squeaky and high pitched, “are cars my passion.” He chuckles immediately afterwards and stands up. “You’re really good at small talk, aren’t you?”

You feel offended, straightening your back to seem unbothered and shrug. “I’m just trying to pass the time, phones dead.”

“Charming,” he says to himself, walking towards you, and you stifle a giggle when you notice he has some oil spread across his right cheekbone.

You decide not to tell him, serves him right, and watch as he cleans his hands again.

“But to answer your question, yeah, I love cars,” he nods, turning his gaze to you and for some stupid reason you fluster, dropping your head to stare at your feet.

It’s that damn smile. It’s evil, trying to charm you, trying to bring back those fighting butterflies in the pit of your stomach. You don’t know if he notices your reaction, if he does he ignores it and carries on.

“...fixing them up, working on them, racing them.”

“—racing them?” You forget your predicament for a moment, almost cutting him, intrigued a little.

“Mhm,” he nods, “me and my friends started up a couple months back, it’s fun—nothing serious, nothing big, no cash prizes or anything, just a fun hobby right now—maybe it’ll turn into something larger scale one day,” he shrugs.

He smells good. You hate the way such a thought pops casually into your brain. He’s so close to you, that’s the problem. Your eyes take in his appearance, eyeing the oil slick on his face again, before moving to his eyes that twinkle in the overhead lighting. They’re not the only thing that shines; his hair, surely dyed that bright red, beams at you, chin length strands falling out of the bun at the nape of his neck which frame his face. You force yourself to ignore everything and carry on the conversation, surely talking nonsense by now.

“Like that movie?” You ask. “Fast and the furious, or something like that…”

“Less flashy,” he chuckles, looking at the floor a little. “Definitely less flashy.”

What is this? He’s a little embarrassed? Why? Racing is racing to you, all the same.

“Sounds dangerous,” you comment, because like you said, racing is racing…

“It’s fine,” he shakes his head, and you notice the exact moment his eyes flash, as if he’s just come up with a great idea.  “You should come and watch one!”

He must be joking around! You? You laugh and shake your head, but he carries on.

“No, serious—a couple of my friends are racing down the quarry tonight. Anyone’s free to come if they don’t rat us out to the cops.”

“As if I would do that,” you scoff, giving him a look.

He ignores you and smiles, “so what do you say?”

You shrug on instinct. “Maybe.”

For god’s sake, why did you say that?

“Down the quarry you said?”

Shit, and that! Why were you making it seem as if you were going? Were you thinking of going? You mean, after work you were free, and pretty bored in the nights… It would fun to do something you don’t normally do… It’ll also be fun to see Hoseok in a different habitat—wait. You did not just think that… Did you?

You tilt your head and watch him nod at you, a smile on his face once again, only this time it’s not cocky, it’s not teasing and it’s definitely not after something…

The butterflies are back. Fuck.

Hoseok in his other habitat is…hot. You hate it. He’s hot anyway, and you don’t even want to admit it, but dressed in something other than overalls, he’s…there are no words. When he spots you a bit away down the makeshift track he waves, and you coyly return it, hating yourself for acting like such an idiot. Your friends see it too, and you almost wish you hadn’t brought them along, especially when you hear Jisyeol comment under her breath Hoseok, with a little bit of distaste you don’t understand… How do your friends know him already? It’s probably your fault for living under a rock most of the time…

To your unexplained disappointment Hoseok doesn’t make his way towards you until the very end of the night, after the race has finished. You don’t know what you expected really, but at least he was finally making chat.

“So what do you think?”

“It’s just a bunch of guys goofing around,” you shrug, which was actually quite true.

“You had fun, don’t lie,” he grins, nudging your shoulder with his. “I saw you cheering towards the end.”

He’d been watching you? That made you slightly elated…

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” you play down. “I don’t see the big fascination with cars—as long as they drive you from point A to B, who cares.”

While it was true, you had found yourself getting quite into the race at the last lap, truthfully, most of your attention had been on Hoseok. It was embarrassing to admit, but you couldn’t help it. Watching him laugh and joke about with friends amused you a little. It had been interesting to see him like that.

“Why are you here tonight then?” He asks, that teasing smirk you’d grown used to in such a short amount of time back on his face.

“Because you asked me to,” you replied simply.

“Aw, that’s cute,” he coos, and you’re confused for a moment, until he carries on, “so is this like our unofficial date you turned down once?”

You scoff immediately. “It’s not a date,” and then before you can stop yourself— “you didn’t speak to me once.”

“Ah, I see,” he laughs, moving closer to you, and you jump when you feel his hands clutch your waist from behind, chin on your shoulder, and the damn butterflies are back. “Is someone moody about that?”

“No,” you bristle, before shaking him off. “No—leave me alone,” but you can’t help but chuckle.

“Tell you what,” he sighs, pulling away. “Let me drive you home and we can talk all you want on the way.”

Your heart stops. He wants to drive you home? That sounds like equally both a good and bad idea. You want to say yes instantly, but remember your friends. You and Hoseok had deviated away while you were talking and you shoot an unsure look their direction.  

“I’m sure your friends won’t mind,” he hums against the shell of your ear, and the tingles that travel up your spine are enough to agree.

.

.

“By the way,” you begin, watching him slyly from the corner of your eyes.

He cocks an eyebrow curiously, hands in his jean pockets. He’d driven you home and you’d talked a little, mostly about trivial things like work and racing, but when you’d gotten out his car he’d left too, rounding the hood to see you off. Your heart was still racing at the gesture, but you try to calm yourself down, choosing to tease him instead.

“I heard one of your friends thank you for the emergency fix the other week…”

He panics, eyes bulging a little as he clears his throat with a cough, one hand coming out of his pocket to scratch his neck. “Uh, yeah…about that…”

You step closer to him, smirking as you tilt your head. You’re not annoyed, if anything, you’re kind of pleased you had to go back, and you’re pleased you got that flat tyre today. You’re ecstatic about that actually…

“I’ll be needing some type of reimbursement…”

There’s a flirty lull to your tone, you almost surprise yourself, and you definitely surprise him. He swallows, his tongue sweeping out to wet his lips and that’s when excitement hits you like an electric shock. The moment’s taken a turn, like something’s closing in on you both. Something good, something nerve wracking, something exciting…

He steps closer too, voice a murmur as he parts his lips. “How about this…”

And then you’re kissing.

He’s hesitant at first, wondering if he’s doing the right thing, taking the right initiative, but when you don’t pull away immediately, he relaxes. You hold your breath as your lips lock, heart still beating rapidly inside your chest, but when Hoseok exhales softy a warmth fills you. It feels good, exhilarating, not awkward at all considering you hardly know him. You keen into him when you feel the hand that was in his pocket come out and reach for your hip, mouth gaining confidence to pry yours apart, the tip of his tongue brushing against yours.

Did you know this would happen all along? It’s funny how things turn out, but maybe you’d be an insufferable bitch to him because you knew you were attracted to him from the get go. You hated his grin because you knew he didn’t even need to try and charm you… Not that your attitude problem seemed to phase him at all. He seemed to like it actually, unless he knew all along it was a brave (or stupid) act… That seems the most realistic option.

The kiss is so gentle, so cautious almost, you both break away gradually, mouths meshed together suddenly turning into soft pecks, Hoseok’s other hand coming out to cup your cheek, stroking the flesh with the ball of his thumb until he’s finally pulling away for good, a soft smile spreading across his face.

You’re so lost in the moment, gazing up at him, you don’t notice he’s reaching for your back pocket until he has your phone in his hands.

“Hey,” you exclaim, snapping out from under his spell as you try to reach up to grab it back. He’s taller than you though, which makes it even more difficult when he raises his arms up higher, out of your grasp, that infuriating smirk back on his face.

“What are you doing?” You ask with a whine, giving up.

“Taking your number,” he shrugs, and you watch as he grabs his phone from his pocket to type it in.

“Did I give you permission?” You question, even though you’re anything but annoyed as the familiar butterflies flutter around again.

“I’m putting in mine too,” he argues, adding a cheeky, “y’know, incase you sabotage your car again and need to contact me asap.”

“Woah,” you defend yourself. “I did not get a flat tyre on purpose.”

“Mhm, okay, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Hoseok!” You half shriek, mildly embarrassed he could think such a thing, even though looking back to this morning it did look mighty suspicious…

“You sound cute when you say my name,” he’s suddenly whispering, closing in on you again, and you jump a little when he pushes your cell back into your pocket, tapping it ever so lightly.

The jolt that travels up your body scares you, because it’s anything but innocent…  

“What about when I say yours?” He asks, tilting his head to the side, and when your name leaves his mouth in what only can be described as a seductive whisper, you break.

You want him to kiss you some more, it’s not fair. You want him, period, and you’re about a second away from grabbing him and taking him yourself, when he stands up straight, that shit eating grin back on his face.

“Goodnight!” He practically sings, and then he’s gone, making his way back to his car.

You watch him drive off in pained irritation. He knows exactly how to wind you up already and you hate it.

You love it.

Your nervous excitement turns into some sort of unsettled apprehension once a couple of your friends let you in on their distaste. You knew Jisyeol had meant something that night and when she’d found out you’d kissed Hoseok she wasn’t best pleased. “I’ve just heard some things about him, that’s all,” she’d said, and then the said “things” that had followed threw you off a bit. “Serial cheater” and “thinks with his dick” isn’t what you really wanted to hear, as well as some story about his ex who’d ended up breaking up with him after one too many chances. But you weren’t one to judge, mainly because you hardly knew him. It would be a little unfair to write him off because of some stories. That, and it wasn’t like you two were dating, or even becoming anything at all. You’d kissed, once, and then you’d exchanged numbers, no big deal. It was just a big of fun, you weren’t thinking too deep.

However, then the messages came and so the butterflies returned…

Hoseok

— working on this baby next — [image loading]

When your cell buzzed you weren’t expecting it to be Hoseok the first time. It’d been a few days since your kiss and in all honestly the doubt your friends had created had made you a little anxious. He sends a picture of some car you are unable to name and you instantly forget your hesitancy, seeing room to tease him instantly. Two can play at that game…

You

— is that a job or just doing another friend a favour…

Hoseok

— will you ever get over that?

You smile to yourself as you read his reply, amused, and quickly type out your own.

You

— nope

Hoseok

— I gave you the reimbursement :(

You 

— it wasn’t enough…

Hoseok

— what more do you want from me ;o

You’re shocked at yourself, so obviously flirting with him it’s almost scandalous, but it’s exciting when he does the same back. It’s harmless, some fun, and despite his apparent past track record, you can’t help but let that worry fall into the back of your mind.

The texts continue everyday, until you’re talking multiple times throughout. He even starts sending you pictures of himself. The first time he does you’re almost left speechless, unable to move your thumbs to reply…

Hoseok

— i’m so d ead — [image loading]

Strands of hair fallen from his bun are in his face, his head leaning back against the chair he’s in, eyelids heavy, lips slightly pouted, and even though he does look tired, he looks hot, so hot your heart hurts a little. As if you would ever say that though…

You

— you look very much alive to me — still breathing

Hoseok

— you can’t tell that it’s a still pic

You

— how did you take it then

Hoseok

— I could have gotten someone else to

You

— how are you typing

Hoseok

—  …….good point — how are you

You smile to yourself, welcoming the little jump to your heart as it beats steadily inside your chest. These days it was always skipping a beat where Hoseok was concerned, each time your phone buzzed, every time he made you laugh…

You

— i’m fine

You clutch the book you’d been reading to your chest, gnawing a little on your bottle lip as you think something through. One photo couldn’t hurt, right? You take a deep breath and slide your thumb over to camera. You don’t know why you’re so nervous to take an image, it’s laughable, but you do so quickly, holding the book up to cover half your face and click send before you can chicken out.

You

— [image loading] — reading a book

Hoseok

— an educated lady I like it

Your heart beats a little faster, adrenaline pumping like wild fire through your veins, which is stupid because he barely gave you a compliment. But you can’t help it, it’s the effect he has on you… He doesn’t know it though (you hope,) and luckily he can’t see your reaction through the screen.

You 

— pfft — how are you, apart from dead? — anymore races?

The next time he messages you it’s late at night, two weeks after your kiss, because yes, you had been keeping count… 2am seems an odd time to contact you, and you guess by his unusual confession, he’s drunk, or at least tipsy.

Hoseok

— I miss your face

It takes you by surprise, especially because you were about to hit the hay not two seconds ago. Now your mouth is dry, heart thudding loudly against your ribcage. What is this? How should you reply? Like you usually do, you try and repel…

You

— you’ve seen my face like 2 times

Hoseok

— 4 actually, more if you count the selfies u’ve sent me

You take a deep breath. He’s really pushing through tonight…and then…

Hoseok

— which i’ve saved by the way

You

— that’s creepy

It isn’t really, well…not when you’re flattered. He saves them? What does that mean? What do you mean to him?

Hoseok

— don’t pretend you haven’t saved mine

You

— I definitely have not

It’s true too, but that doesn’t mean you haven’t wanted to… You just thought it would be a little strange for him… It’s weird to think he had the same thoughts too but acted with them… The butterflies stir again.

You

— you can check my album

Hoseok

— i’d have to see you to check — ……isn’t it about time your car broke again?????

Your heart crashes into your stomach.

You’re an idiot. There’s no other way to describe what you’re just done. Why you’re pulling up outside Hoseok’s garage the next night at 7pm with your fricking rear-view mirror in your hand. You’d snapped, getting an absurd idea when he’d messaged you earlier and said he had to work late.

“I got into my car and this was in the seat,” you tell him simply, lying through your ass as you hold the mirror up in your hand.  “It must have fallen off.”

“How can it just fall off?” He asks, looking mildly amused, but there’s something else in his eyes, the way he looks at you, the glint…he knows…

“I don’t know,” you shrug, trying to play dumb, shooting him a smirk as you add the command, “you’re a mechanic, right? Quit asking questions and fix it.”

.

.

The air is heavy while Hoseok fixes the mirror, some sort of invisible buzz that constantly shifts between excitement and anxiousness for you. For him, you have no clue what he’s thinking.

You sit in the back of Heathcliff, mindlessly scrolling on your phone, but in all honestly you’re just sneaking peaks at him. It’s not a hard job at all; some glue, a bit of light pressure and it’s finished. Your heart races as you watch him crawl his way into the back seat with a grin on his face as he glees, “all done.”

“Phew,” you sigh in dramatic relief. “I thought I was fucked.”

One thing to note about you is that you’re very good at deflecting, hiding, faking, whatever you want to call it, and for some reason, being any kind of vulnerable in front of him is pretty daunting…

“How did you drive here if your mirror was broken?” He asks, sitting next to you so close his shoulder’s brushing against yours.

It now feels like the car is closing in on you. Not only because he’s tilting his head, an eyebrow raised as he tries to catch you out, but also because you can smell him, his scent, it’s making you feel warm and fuzzy, and god, you just want him to kiss you again.

“I…er…” you begin, and it definitely feels as if he’s closing in on you now, moving closer. You swallow, trying to clear your mind too as you lie. “I chanced it.”

“Dangerous…” he murmurs, and yes, he’s closer, he’s definitely closer. You can feel his hot breath breeze against your cheek. “A girl after my own heart.”

He’s so close. You try to focus on his face but your vision blurs and all you can make out are his lips. You want him to kiss you again—did you already think that? You can’t remember properly because your mind’s a mess. He must be leaning into kiss you, he must—

“Hey,” you exclaim suddenly when he grabs your phone instead, although your voice isn’t very loud, more like a broken whisper.

“I’m checking your photo album,” he shrugs, leaning back against the back seat again. Your eyes flutter to his legs, spread wide, black jeans hugging his thighs. Your heart wavers, disappoint still washing through you at the misunderstanding…or maybe he was just teasing you again?

“You won’t find anything,” you quip, leaning in closer to see what he’s doing.

He opens up your photo album, scrolling upwards and back a couple of times just to be throughly disappointed. He grumbles comically, locking your phone immediately, but to your surprise he turns your way again, shifting so he’s towering over you a little, and then the anticipation is back. Is this it?

“What’s not to say you deleted them…”

Your breath hitches when you feel him press your phone into your hoody pocket, giving it a protective tap to keep it place, but your gaze is back on his mouth and you can’t look away. You need to kiss him again, if he doesn’t go in for it in the next three seconds you’re going to jump him, you have no self control, but just like that, he must read your mind…

His lips are just as soft as you remember them, and you stretch your neck to be able to reach him quicker, desperate to intensify the kiss. This time you part your lips first, tongue eager to meet his and there’s no holding back. Except for maybe the position. His torso’s twisted to face yours, half sat-half hovering, and something inside of you snaps. You want more and the only way to get that is to control the position.

A puff of air leaves him when you push at his chest and he watches you quickly straddle him with eager eyes, his hands reaching for your thighs as he rubs up and down, warming up your flesh and sending shocks up your spine.

Your lips are back on his before you can take another breath, fingers gripped in his hair, letting go of all your inhibitions. Being around Hoseok makes your feel different, you can’t explain it, especially because you’ve only hung out a couple of times, seen each other a few, but kissing him is something else. It clouds your mind, makes you feel drunk, and you want more.

“I lied,” you murmur against his wet lips as you pull away.

“Hm?” He questions, breath shaky as it seems he’s just as affected.

“I snapped the mirror off before I got here,” you admit, noticing the way his eyes follow every move your mouth makes. “I even broke a nail,” you pout, holding out your hand to show him.

“Diddums,” he coos, before he takes the finger in his mouth, biting down playfully.

Your breath hitches, core pulsing a little between your legs and you can’t stop the moan that falls from you when you lean into kiss him again. It’s even more heated, the image of him biting down on your finger playing inside your head over and over again. It’s hot under you, the heat heavy and uncomfortable, you need to soothe it, and you push into him, grinding your hips a little, pleasure bursting out every nerve in your body. Especially when he grunts and follows your lead, meeting each roll of your hips with his own.

“Is this okay?” He asks, pulling away to check on you.

“Mhm,” you insist, nodding your head vigorously.

He chuckles, pecking at your lips again, wet and sticky, the noises filling your ears, heart pumping heavily in your chest.

“You’re a good kisser,” you can’t help but say.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he murmurs.  “Don’t pout,” he tells you instantly when you push out your bottom lip, running his thumb over it and tugging down.

You try to nip at it while grinding down on him and he pulls back. “Naughty,” he hisses under his breath, but he can’t help but jut his hips up too, and that’s when you feel it.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “I’m hard.”

You can feel it pressing against your heat, the sensation turning you on even more, and you reach to kiss him again, needing something to keep you sane.

“See what you do to me?” He teases, grinding a little so you can feel it more. “Especially because you broke your damn car just to see me again.”

“Relax,” you tease back, “it’s not like a crashed it into a tree.”

You kiss him again before he can speak, rolling your hips back and forth until you gain a steady rhythm and he’s groaning against your mouth.

“Mhm, keep doing that,” he grunts, pulling away from you to look down at your bodies. “Fu-ckk,” he gasps slowly. “That feels really good.”

His eyes are glued to your middles, watching each glide you make, and you light up when he grips your waist and presses you down, controlling your movements now.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” He asks, his voice thick and affected.

“100% sure,” you nod, yours shaky.

“I hope Heathcliff doesn’t feel uncomfortable,” he says lightly, and it takes you a moment to realise what he’s just said and that he’s teasing you.

“Shurrup,” you tell him, but you’re breathing harder, unable to keep your tone light, the pleasure building stronger between your legs as you grind against him.

“Fuck, fuck—mmm—keep—going,” he grits out.

By now you’re applying as much pressure as you can to his dick, stuck solid in his pants, and his fingers grip your hips, pressing into the flesh. He seems a little manic, his mouth open, eyes flickering over your face, chest heaving up and down, and if you didn’t know any better it looks like he’s close to his end. Confidence washes over you, wondering if he’s really about to come so easily, and you move faster, breaking into a sweat a little, your palms using his shoulders for leverage. It’s when you feel his body freeze under you, hands slacking around your waist, that you know it’s done.

“Shit,” he moans. “Shit, you really just made me cum in my pants like a fucking teenager,” he laughs, but he doesn’t seem embarrassed, more like deeply amazed.  

“I can’t believe it, what the fuck,” he astounds, lifting closer to kiss your lips. “You’re amazing.”

You can’t help but blush a little, melting under his compliment, but then he pulls away, eyes dark and pooling with something that makes your belly stir with fresh delight, and you’re blushing even more when he speaks again, cheeks hot to the touch.

“Wanna make you cum too.”

You shake your head, it’s not necessary, even though really, you want nothing more. He reads that, he knows that.

“Ah, n—”

You’re interrupted when he slides your body down a touch, right onto his thigh, and your core pulses a little. You hadn’t realised how wet you were until you really concentrated, feeling the way your panties stick to your heat, the sensation irritating, the burn you feel annoying, and you need it to be relieved.

“Is this fine?” He asks, and you nod, wrapping your arms around his neck, loving the feeling when his hands fall to your ass, cupping the flesh in his palms to squeeze and roll you upwards. “Don’t be shy, ride it.”

You can’t help but moan at that, freeing your self-consciousness to begin grinding down on his thigh, your mouth lulling open slightly in concentration, your head to the side, hair flowing down. You move slowly, precisely, but the pleasure is immediate, your breathing laboured.

“You look so pretty,” he awes, kissing your forehead before sitting back to watch the show. Looking down at him like this is too hot, and you can’t help but move a little faster.

“I wonder what you’d look like riding my dick…”

It’s a whisper, but he obviously wants you to hear it, and it drives you wild, unable to keep quiet as you moan his name lamely. “H-hoseok.”

“You like that,” he comments, “you imagining it too?”

“In your dreams,” you manage to scoff, but you are, of course you are. How can you not when you’re on top of him, riding down on his thigh.

“I think I can make it a reality soon,” he grins, and he sounds so determined, you can’t dispute him.

It most definitely will.

He tenses his thigh, the pressure between your legs now heightened and you cry out, rubbing your clit harder against him now, desperate for your release.

“That’s it, fuck,” he grunts, seemingly as into this as you, his hands guiding you faster over his muscle.

You moan louder, his name falling from your lips, and you can feel your orgasm brewing, dangling you over the edge.

“You’re killing me,” he whines, and that’s all you need, knowing you have this affect on him is enough for you to fully come undone.

It spreads warmness through your body, your toes curling, and you come back down to earth with a lazy smile, eyes half closed. You only have a moment to recover before Hoseok’s kissing you again, greedily, as if he can’t stay away for long enough.

“You sound pretty when you cum too,” he smiles, and you feel yourself blush again.

Now that the post-orgasm feeling is wearing off, the reality of what you’ve just done is sinking in, mental images popping into your mind every time you blink.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” you say, eyes wide, but he must read it wrongly because he’s instantly looking concerned.

“You don’t regret it, do you?” He asks, and you shake your head rapidly.

“No,” you insist with a light giggle. Of course you don’t. “It’s just…never mind,” you trail off, knowing what you want to say, just unsure how, or if he would care—if he would even want to hear it.  

You decide to make it a little simpler.

“You make me do crazy things,” you grin, leaning into peck at his mouth.

He pulls away with a chuckle, eyes glistening with something that makes you feel happy, and then he speaks and you’re even happier.

“You make me feel crazy.”

.

.

“Are you busy this weekend?”

“Why?” You ask curiously, almost a little shy as you cock your head to the side and look at him.

He shrugs casually, curling his arms around your waist, and the slightest of actions makes your heart skip a beat. You’re still on a high from the orgasm he gave you, even after a good ten minutes have passed. “Me and a couple friends are going clubbing, it’ll be fun if you could come too,” he tells you, “bring your friends along so you don’t feel awkward.”

“I don’t know,” you scrunch up your face, unsure. “Clubbing isn’t really my thing.”

But you’d love to see him again.

“Cars weren’t your thing either but you still watched a race,” he says with a playful squeeze to your waist and you jump, subconsciously closing the distance between your bodies.

“Fine,” you give in slightly. “I’m not saying a definite yes but I’ll think about it.”

He grins triumphantly, and you can’t help but ask him more.

“Where?”

“I don’t know yet, but I’ll message you the details,” he continues to grin before placing a kiss on your mouth.

You’re there for another ten minutes…

You’re even more of an idiot than before. You realise that as soon as you walk through the doors of the club and see Hoseok dancing with a girl you’ve never seen before. It doesn’t make you jealous, because well, you guys are nothing, but it makes you come to your senses. Seeing her arms reaching to wrap around his neck as she slinks closer, the slight smirk on his face, the blazing strobe lights hurting your eyes, illuminating your stupidness even more, it all just makes you see clearer.

You want to spin on your heels and run out unnoticed, but life’s not that kind, and just as you’re about to take a step backwards Hoseok takes a glance to his left, as if he senses something and sees you. He smiles instantly, only managing to rub salt in your wounds even more. It must show on your face because instantly he frowns, puzzled, wondering why you aren’t smiling back at him. He slowly looks at the girl in front of him, arms now dropping from his neck, and back at you, delayed realisation washing over him a little, or awkwardness at being caught—you can’t tell.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stutter, silently kicking yourself for the show of weakness, and you can’t seem to make eye contact with him at all, feeling embarrassed, weirdly hurt and now, worst if all, jealous as the blasted emotion creeps in…

“I’ll just…leave…” you manage to murmur out quietly. You don’t think he even hears you under the blaring music, so he’s definitely puzzled when you spin around and begin to rush out, you can tell so by the way he calls after you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mutter under your breath, feeling the cool night air hit you as you run through the doors, making a dash for it as you hit the sidewalk.

You knew you shouldn’t have come tonight. That’s why you’d gone alone; maybe you’d had bad vibes already, that’s why you hadn’t invited your friends. Maybe their doubts had been right, or maybe you were just being rational… You and Hoseok weren’t anything… You knew that… So then why were you so hurt…

You’re so lost in thought you don’t realise he’s been chasing after you, not until he’s reaching for your elbow and pulling you back slightly, tone a little frantic, but most of all, confused.

“Where you going?” He asks, searching your face for answers. “You’ve only just got here.”

“I made a mistake,” is all you can reply, not making any sense.

“What do you mean?” He asks, looking puzzled. “I didn’t think you were coming.”

You wished you hadn’t. Granted you’d mulled it over for quite a while and had turned up pretty late… Maybe he’d grown bored of waiting for you…

“Yeah, I realised,” you scoff, regretting it straight away. You really had no right to be acting jealous right now.

Rubbing your forehead in frustration you try to make strained eye contact with him. “Look, it’s fine because me and you aren’t even anything, so I don’t know what I was thinking. I was probably just being an idiot, but I just…” you trail off, cringing at yourself. You weren’t making no sense at all, just digging yourself into a deeper hole.

“It’s best if I just leave,” you sigh, taking a moment to rethink.

“I don’t get it,” he murmurs, stopping you in your tracks. “What have I done wrong?”

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” you insist. “I did.”

He watches you with more confusion, waiting for you to continue.

“I interrupted you and that girl…” you whisper, feeling a little pathetic.

He frowns. “Me and—wait, we were just dancing,” he finally realises what this is all about and he chuckles lightly, reaching for you with his hand. “Don’t be silly,” he tells you lightly.

“No really,” you say, stepping back from him and he stops, confused once more as his hand drops to his side.

You take a deep breath and speak before you can think it through properly. “I should’ve listened to my friends.”

His demeanour changes instantly, body turning a little wooden as he looks at you stony faced. “Listened to them because?”

For once his tone isn’t light, nor friendly, but you can’t feel guilty. Not when you’re the one trying to protect yourself.

“Me and you, Hoseok, we’re different,” you explain. “I read the signals wrong, but I can’t do it like this.”

You make sure to make eye contact with him, to show him how serious, how genuine you were being. His expression’s still stern, but it wavers slightly when you apologise.

“I’m sorry.”

“Wait,” he calls suddenly, reaching for your elbow as you turn around to start walking off again. You’re a little nervous to hear what he has to say, but surprisingly, he changes the subject. “I can’t let you walk home alone.”

That’s how you find him walking you home in awkward silence. You could’ve just gotten a taxi home, but that would be murder so sudden on a weekend… You could’ve refused him, but you’re a fool, and a large part of you doesn’t want this to be the end… It feels too soon, you’ve only just got started. You’ve been thinking of you and him in your car continuously since it happened, wondering if there would be a repeat tonight. Now it’s all over in anticlimactic fashion…

“Okay, so…” you trail off once you get to your door.

You want to say bye, but it won’t come out. You look up at him expectantly, hoping he’d be the one to instigate the end. Instead, he holds on.

“What did your friends say about me?”

He’s curious, maybe even pissed—you’d don’t blame him if he is. You wouldn’t like strangers gossiping about you either. You owe him this, you think to yourself, and then it’s goodbye. Over before it even started. Why are you so sad? This isn’t like you.

“Do you want to come in?” You ask, and he nods almost instantly, following you inside once you unlock the door.

“Let’s go to my room because I’m pretty sure my roommate will be back soon,” you say looking around your living room.

He follows you again, into your bedroom this time, and it feels strange, the atmosphere not how you would’ve imagined it when you thought of Hoseok here. This whole night isn’t how you imagined it to go...

You sit awkwardly on the edge of your own bed, just for something to do as you feel Hoseok’s gaze on your face. You finally pluck up the courage to look back, and to your surprise, he looks a little deflated.

“So, what did they say?” He presses, but his tone’s just as void.

“They’ve just heard stuff,” you shrug, feeling a little uncomfortable.

Won’t he find you strange for bringing this up? It’s not like you guys are anything serious. For all you know he just thinks you were both messing around, no strings attached—well, that’s what is was, right? And know he’s going to think you’re prying into his business…  

“Like what?” He asks, sensing your hesitancy, but by the tone of his voice you think he already knows what…

You take a deep breath garnering the courage. “You just don’t do relationships, or…when you do…” you trail off, flow stunted as you try to make eye contact with him before chickening out and looking at the floor to carry on.  “…you cheat…”

You feel your cheeks burn, wanting the earth to open and swallow you right at this very second. The silence that follows doesn’t help either, and you’re just about to hit panic stations when finally Hoseok lets out a deep breath.

“That was in the past,” he murmurs, and to your surprise he doesn’t sound angry or annoyed. He doesn’t look it either when you finally peek a glance at him.

In fact, he looks worried.

“Look, I know it sounds cliché but, I’ve changed,” he explains. “I’m guessing you’ve heard the story about my ex?”

You give a tiny nod. Jisyeol had told you something, yes, and while you hadn’t listened fully in fear of being weird, you’d still been a little curious…

“I cheated on her, I didn’t deserve her, and she found someone better,” is all he says, and the defiance of such a statement almost takes you by surprise.

He’s being brutally honest, you’ll give him that, but in the end does it matter?

“Hoseok, you don’t owe me an explanation,” you tell him gently. “It’s your life. You and me were just having fun…”

“Fun?” He repeats, and you’re shocked to hear he’s offended—maybe even hurt. “Is that it? You didn’t want more?” He asks, and you’re finding it hard to look away from him, his eyes burning the same kind of passion that you’d only seen that night in your car.

You open your mouth, ready but unsure of what to say. “I… It doesn’t matter what I want,” you settle, shaking your head. “I get it, I understand.”

“Well you obviously don’t,” he scoffs, shocking you.

You’re not used to seeing him this serious, and you’re shocked even more when he confesses something to you.

“I like you. I have since you walked through my garage doors and told me your car was named Heathcliff.”

He sounds so genuine you’re rendered speechless, his words replaying back in your mind over and over again. I like you. I like you. I like you.

“Its okay if you don’t like me back, I just thought…”

You do like him back. You don’t know why or when it happened. You weren’t even looking for someone when you walked into that garage a few weeks back, but now here you were, unable to shake him. However, things weren’t that simple.

“I do,” you murmur, being bravely honest. “I’m just…worried, I guess.”

There were doubts. Confusions. You liked Hoseok, yes, but you didn’t know much about him. You’d only seen the fun side of him, and the rest you’d heard from other people. It wasn’t fair to judge him on that, you knew, but your mind had instantly jumped to the worst tonight when you’d seen Hoseok with that girl, however innocent it was.

But, you admired his honesty tonight, and going from some kind intuition you didn’t know you had, you want to believe him. The way he’d been acting with you, that night in your car, his confession tonight; it all seemed real. He wasn’t some master manipulator going after what he wanted for a bit of fun, you could see that… You believe him. He likes you. However, you’re still unsure with how things will play out…

“I get that,” he nods rapidly, “I don’t really have much to say other than I hope you take a chance on me.”

See? He doesn’t say no more, he doesn’t try to persuade you… He wants you to make up your own decision.

“I’ll think about it,” you tell him with a small smile.

It’s all you can do. You can’t take it lightly, not if you both really like each other. You need to be absolutely positive things will work out and you won’t get hurt—or that you both won’t mess it up.

“Okay,” he smiles back, and even though you can tell he’s nervous, he remains understanding. “Do you want me to leave now?”

“You can stay if you want,” you reply, not wanting to say goodbye yet. “We can talk some more, get to know one another.” After all, how else would you make your decision?

“I don’t even know your surname,” you giggle, and it feels good when he chuckles too.

Even though things are still up in the air, at least there’s a weight lifted from your shoulders.

“I’d like that,” he grins. “It’s Jung, by the way.”

.

.

You end up talking the whole night, in hushed whispers when your roommate comes home from her night shift and you hear her get ready for bed in the next room. It seems much more intimate like that, and it doesn’t help he’s made his way onto your bed, lying beside you as you speak about life. You find out a lot about his life; where he lives, why he became mechanic, his love for cars and surprisingly, music. He finds out a lot about yours too; where you work, hobbies, family…

By the time you’re done getting to know one another some more it’s late and you’re incredibly tired, eyelids drooping as you curl up on your side. Hoseok’s close to you, you can feel his body heat behind you, and it feels good, relaxing you, lulling you…

“I was scared you’d get all defensive if I told you what my friends said,” you admit quietly, because confessions always seem less daunting in the dark of night…

There’s a little silence before he replies. “Well, I was at first, but they’re right,” he admits. “I can’t really be mad that your friends would try to warn you.”

“Everyone makes mistakes,” you shrug, because you want to believe he’s changed, that he’s a good person.

“I made a lot of them though,” he chuckles bitterly, “and I regret them, but I can’t change the past, I can only change myself for the future, for now.”

He sounds so determined behind you it almost knocks you wide awake, but his breath against the nape or your neck is soothing, and once again your eyelids begin to get heavy, sleep calling your name. You’re still dressed up for the club, but beside Hoseok like this you’re never been comfier.

“It’s never too late to change things,” you agree, words blurring into one another as you shut your eyes fully now.

“You’re tired,” he tells you, leaning a little over your body to peek at your face.  “You should sleep.”

You agree with a grunt, but when you feel him go to sit up you panic a little, your hand reaching behind for him, clamping around his wrist.

“Stay,” you order lightly. “It’s too late to leave now.”

There’s a pause, and you’re nervous he’s going to say no, but then the bed creeks dully as he lies back down, and your heart begins to beat steadily again.

“Okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile on his face as he bids you goodnight. Not two minutes later you’re pulling his arm around you, snuggling in when he finally begins spooning you, and then you’re sleeping like a baby, warm and content.

.

.

When you wake up he’s gone. There’s a slight moment of panic, maybe even worry that you’d dreamt the whole thing up, but when you reach for you phone and find a message from him, you relax a little.

Hoseok

— had to leave for work, didn’t want to wake you — p.s. take as much time as you need to think — i’ll wait patiently :p

You’re still feeling a little uneasy, knowing you have some decision making to do, but knowing Hoseok’s so understanding makes you feel better. You’re in no rush, he’s not trying to convince you. You’re fine.

Not speaking to Hoseok for the best part of a week proves lonesome. You hadn’t realised how big a part he’d played in your life these last couple of weeks, and you missed interacting with him, you missed how he made you laugh even through a tiny screen. You didn’t let it distract you though, or taint your decision.

You liked Hoseok, you’d already come to terms with that, it was just about how much. Was it worth it, did you want to give things a go? Take a chance as he’d so put it? You hadn’t been looking for a relationship when you’d stepped foot inside his garage, and you were still sure you weren’t when you kissed the night of that race, even going as far as the night in your car too… It was fun, and you’d felt things for him, but your mind hadn’t necessarily decided you wanted more straight away. Maybe mainly because you didn’t know where he stood on the whole thing too…

Cruelly, you’d only realised your heart wanted a little bit more when you’d seen him dancing with that girl at the club. That’s when all the doubts had come out to play, the gossipings of your friends coming back to haunt you. Why were you so bothered if it wasn’t anything serious? To answer your own question; because you liked him. A lot. And there was a strong possibility he felt differently, or at least thought differently.

You’d gotten it into your head quite quickly that he didn’t see things the same way as you, so when he’d told you he liked you, you almost felt sudden relief, but was that enough? You couldn’t just run on in head first and think about the consequences later. It was your feelings you would be playing with… You also needed your friends’ opinion.

Once a cheater, always a cheater, is what you heard a lot, and before meeting Hoseok you would’ve wholeheartedly agreed. Cheating was unforgivable and cowardly, and usually if someone could do it once and get away with it, they’d do it again and again. It was hard to see Hoseok in that light because all you’d ever seen was good. It would be easy to disregard all the things you’d heard about him in favour of what’ve you seen, but in the end you’d heard it from the horse’s mouth himself.

The night he’d stayed around yours and you’d talked well into the early hours of the morning, he’d admitted his wrongdoings in more detail. He’d been upfront and apologetic, citing the relationship was never perfect, never happy. They should’ve ended things long ago, but for some reason they kept going around in circles. He was ashamed of the man he’d become when he was with her, ashamed of the way he treated her. Being single for over a year had given him time to reflect on everything, to change himself, and now he was adamant to prove to himself he was a good man. You’d been the first person to make him feel like maybe he didn’t have to prove it, he was a good man.

While his confession had been sweet, everything was still daunting. You wanted to let him in, you wanted to see what could blossom if you let it, but the truth was, if Hoseok had been single for a year, you’d been single for almost two… Relationships just weren’t on your radar; every time there was a person you found yourself falling for, you’d freak out by the time it got to anything serious. It wasn’t like you were scared of commitment, you just couldn’t see yourself happy like that. Your last “proper” relationship had ended in disaster. Maybe you were your own worst enemy…

Hoseok had been the first person to stir something up inside you that shifted your axis. The night at the club you’d felt hurt, maybe even a little jealous, and before that, the night in your car, you’d never felt like that before, you were so comfortable around him it just felt like you’d known each other forever.

You make the decision on a Thursday night, but you’re still fighting it a little by the Friday morning. It’s not like you’re unsure, you’re just coy about the whole thing. How will you let him know? What will you say? You decide to text him later that night, however while in work you can’t stop thinking of him; every train of thought ends at him, every time you blink you see his face. You can’t fight it any longer, and while driving home in the afternoon, you recognise the familiar road that leads to his garage. You’re parked outside before you can take your next breath.

This isn’t just taking a chance on him, it’s taking a chance on yourself, too.

.

.

Hoseok’s shocked when he sees you, his eyes wide, unable to take them off your form, slowly placing the wrench he’d had in his hand on the worktop in front of him.

“Hey,” he lets out, smiling slightly, and you can’t help but grin back. He has a dab of oil on his nose and it looks adorable.  

“Hi,” you greet back, unable to keep your news in any longer. “I’ve thought.”

“And?” He wonders hopefully.

You answer in the only way you know best, choosing actions over words, and it’s not until you’re directly in front of him do you realise he’s holding his breath. That shortens the lifespan of the kiss you give him, and when you have to pull away, he’s panting heavily, eyes darting around your face in a whirl of awe and confusion.

“I hope that was a good sign,” he asks, placing his hands on your waist, and it feels so good to have him near again.

You’ve missed it. You’ve missed him.

“I like you, and I want us to hang out more,” you tell him simply, but it’s all he wants to hear, you can tell by the way his face brightens up with elation, and you can’t help but laugh happily.

“So does that mean you’ll finally say yes to a date?” He quizzes, now wrapping his arms around you to squeeze you to his body. You don’t even care that his overalls are dirty.

“The appropriate reimbursement,” you tease, leaning in for another kiss on the lips because you can’t help yourself.

“How about watching me race tomorrow night?” He asks, once again hopefully, and you pull a worried face.

“I don’t know, that sounds dangerous and scary,” you admit, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“No, silly,” he disagrees, rubbing your nose with his. “It’ll be fun. Don’t you want to cheer me on?”

You’re still a little worried, but yes, of course you want to cheer him on.

Watching Hoseok race was even more terrifying than you’d imagined. Your heart had been jackhammering ever since he’d sat inside his friend’s damn car and you’d heard the countdown before he sped off. Even while you were cheering him on, feeling elated and proud when you saw him in the lead, you were still as nervous as anything, whole body vibrating with worry. It isn’t until you see him win with your own two eyes, joy and then relief flooding you when he stops the car, do you calm down fully.

You run over once the race is complete, excited to congratulate him on his big win, but as you get over to the car, you watch in horror as it accelerates with one jerk into a rubbled old wall.

You gasp and shoot over, opening the car door. “Oh my god,” you exclaim. “Hoseok! Are you okay?”

He nods, chuckling at your melodramatics, but you notice him wipe his bottom lip and you gasp louder. “You’re bleeding!”

“It’s nothing,” he shakes his head. “I must’ve nipped my bottom lip with my teeth.”

Despite how small it is, your heart is still pounding with worry as you reach to pull him out the cramped vehicle.

He groans as he stretches his body out, “this must be the most embarrassing thing to happen to me yet,” he whines. “I win the race but I accidentally accelerate into a wall.”

You giggle at that, realising you’re worried over nothing, that, and he won the race. You move closer to him, wrapping your arms around his waist to snuggle into his body. He’s boiling hot, a warm fuzz to his chest as you listen to his racing heartbeat.

“What’s this for?” He laughs in confusion, but wraps his own around your back.

“Nothing,” you mumble, looking up to see his face. “Just congratulating you.”

He smiles fondly back at you, and the sudden urge to kiss him is ginormous. You think he’s feeling the same too because his head’s lowering, but you’re reminded you’re not alone when someone calls Hoseok’s name from the distance.

Hoseok pulls away to greet his friend. “Sorry man, the adrenaline was still pumping,” he apologises looking back at the car. “Drop it off at the garage tomorrow and I’ll fix her up.”

“No worries,” his friend shrugs, looking around the vehicle. “There’s hardly any damage, it’s fine. But anyway,” he grins. “Congratulations, I knew you’d do it.”

“Thanks, man,” Hoseok smiles, looking at the ground, and it’s cute, almost as if he’s embarrassed.

He wraps his arm around your waist almost subconsciously, and the butterflies only Hoseok can give you begin fluttering back to life.

.

.

“Racing is shit,” you whine. “You don’t win anything and you got hurt.”

You’re back in his car now as he drives you home. His lip’s still bleeding and he’s resorted to holding a rag against it as he drives with one hand.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he shrugs to glance over at you quickly with a grin. “I won you, didn’t I?”

“That was so fucking cheesy,” you exclaim as he laughs loudly, but it doesn’t stop your cheeks from heating up.

He probably notices too.

“Hey,” you yell suddenly when you notice where you are. Partly because yes, you did just get an idea, but also because you want to change the subject a little before he can tease you.  

“There’d be a first-aid kit at your garage, right?”

.

.

You are way too worrisome he keeps telling you. After all, it’s only a little nick on his bottom lip. They always bleed profusely, it’s nothing serious, but you’re adamant you don’t want him to get an infection. So here you are, parked in his garage gone 2am, him sitting on the hood as you stand over him, patting his lip with antiseptic.

“I think it’s finally stopped bleeding,” you say, finally pulling the cotton pad away to inspect his lip.

The cut’s so tiny you can’t even see it anymore, and now your eyes are lingering on his mouth, then all around his face. You’ve never been this up close before, and you take the time to really soak it in. He’s really beautiful, and you can’t help but stretch out your hand to run your fingers through the strands of red hair that had fallen from his bun.

“What,” he asks curiously, eyes meeting yours, and you shrug.

“Nothing, you’re just really pretty up close.”

He laughs at that, his head falling back. “Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?”

You shake him off, wanting him to take this one compliment, but just like that, he has you blushing in an instant, his hands cupping your face.

“Because you are,” he murmurs, “you take my breath away.”

“Did you also hit your head?” You try to tease, but truth is your heart’s pounding like crazy and your belly’s doing somersaults.

“Shut up,” he whispers, before… “Kiss me.”

You find yourself going in for his mouth, mesmerised slightly, but then you remember his cut, pulling back because you’re worried.

“What if your lip starts bleeding again?”

“It won’t,” he dismisses with a shake of his head, and just like that, you’re persuaded.

His lips are warm, soft, and they feel like home, like you’ve never been away from them. This garage is beginning to feel a little like home now too. It’s where all this started after all—not that long ago either, but so much has changed.

You jump a little when his hands suddenly reach for you, gripping your waist to pull you closer between his legs. You gasp, giving him the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, your noses mushing together and you both let out a chuckle. But the situation is soon turning hot again, his fingers sliding over the curve of your ass to grip each cheek, sending a jolt of pleasure between your legs.

He surprises you even more when he suddenly stands up, and you squeal when he spins you around and pushes you to lie down on the hood instead. You feel warmth spread over you when he presses his body over yours and you reach to kiss him again, hands wrapping around his neck to to pull him closer. The kiss is a little more heated this time, the space between you nonexistent, and as he presses his hips into yours, almost involuntarily, he bites back a groan.

“You okay?” He makes sure with a smile, and you nod frantically. You’re definitely more than okay, and to show him so you kiss at his lips again, rolling your crotch into his, feeling your belly dip in pleasure.

He lets out the groan this time, hands either side or your head slipping against the blanket as he rides up, watching between your bodies.

“Wanna stop?” He murmurs, dipping his body again to kiss you, an eyebrow raised, tone hopeful that you’ll say no.

“Definitely not,” you shake your head curtly, to which he laughs, kissing down your jaw.

“Me neither,” he whispers, his hot breath now tickling your neck as his mouth and tongue glide along the the sensation flesh.

“I can’t stop thinking about that night in your car,” he confesses, “wondering if there’ll be a take two.”

You shudder under him, unable to control your body, your emotions. You feel a little strung out, in need of some relief, your body tingling with pleasure but also desperately uncomfortable, as if you craved Hoseok.

“It was good,” you agree, out of breath.

“So good,” he says, lifting his head so his gaze falls to your face, filled with something that makes your stomach stir.

But that’s when you notice something else.

“Bleeding again,” you comment, lifting a hand to wipe away the streak of blood on his bottom lip with your thumb.

“It’s not much,” he shakes you off with a grin. “I can still go on, not dead yet.”

You purse your own grin, watching him with raised eyebrows, stretching your arm around his neck again to grip it. “Jung Hoseok, defeated and embarrassed by a wall.”

“Hey,” he quips. “For all you know it could’ve been a ploy to get you back here.”

Your frown playfully. “Pair that up with the saved pics of me on your phone and that’s creepy, Jung Hoseok.”

“Not as creepy as you repeatedly using my full name…” He shoots, before— “Ow!” He cries out when you hit him on the arm.

You kiss the pout on his face away and he hums in contentment. You’re hot all over, loving the feeling of his body pressed flush to yours, and you want more. He knows it, and he wants it too.

“Mhm, wanna make you feel good again,” he moans, kissing down your chin, down your neck, and he somehow breaks apart a button on your shirt to kiss your chest.

That sets fireworks off.

“Something else?” You murmur. “More…”

“You want more?” He says, eyebrows raised, tone seductive, the tip of his tongue peaking out of his mouth. “How much more?”

“How much more do you think we’re capable of getting on the hood of your car?” You ask.

“A lot,” he says slowly. “I mean, if you want to that is…”

“Try me,” you smirk.

And that he does.

Before you know it you’re in your underwear, and even though your kisses are heated, his body still covering most of yours, it’s cold against his car, and you can’t help but shiver.

“What’s wrong?” He asks.

“It’s cold,” you pout, and he chuckles, sliding off you.

“I have a blanket in the back. Let me get it for you,” he says, and you watch him walk around the side of his vehicle, hearing him open the back door on his side.

You wait patiently, trying to calm down a little, but also trying to avoid looking down, knowing you’re half naked, and knowing where this is about to go. You’re nervous, but it’s an excited apprehension, your body abuzz with adrenaline.

When he comes back his hands grab your waist to help you shuffle over, hot to the touch, and your skin burns for him, a red-hot need travelling through your body. He drapes the blanket over the hood, scooting you back in position.

“Comfy?” He questions.

“Yup,” you nod, your back warmer now under the fleece.

“Mhm,” you hum in enjoyment as he leans down to kiss you again, breath hitching when you feel his hand between your legs.

This is a new sensation all together, your clit throbbing in anticipation, and you squirm under him, desperate for more. He senses your impatience, gingerly sliding his fingers up to play with the waistband of your panties, and you’ve never wanted to get naked so much before in your life. But first, unsure if he’s teasing you or not, he kisses his way up your stomach, eyes glued to your face, watching your reaction carefully. With his free hand he reaches for your bra clasp in the middle of your chest, snapping it open to reveal your breasts to him, and you silently praise yourself for wearing a front fastening bra tonight. You shake yourself free of the lace, gasping a little when you feel his mouth encasing a nipple before settling your back back on the blanket, a hand reaching to lace through his hair as he sucks the sensitive flesh.

“Fuckk,” you breathe when you feel him begin to slide your underwear down, the cold air hitting your core, sending shivers up your spine.

You kick the cotton from your feet, hearing them drop to the floor, and then you’re fully naked, the curve of Hoseok’s body the only thing covering you until he goes to stand up again, gripping under your knee to spread your legs a little. His eyes widen, seemingly speechless for a moment, and you would giggle if you weren’t so turned on right now.  

“I can’t believe you’re lying naked on the hood of my car right now,” he awes.

“Well,” you tease, slowly lifting one leg up to rest your foot on the edge. “You better believe it.”

He groans, eyes glued to your centre, and like he’s under a spell, he moves closer, his right hand brushing up and down your inner thigh.

“Is this okay?” He asks quietly, watching for you reaction as he moves his fingers closer to your entrance.

He’s so close you can just imagine what it would feel like for him to touch you bare, almost feel it too, and your impatient, whiny, needy…

“Hoseok,” you pout, “just do it already—make me feel good.”

You hold your breath as he strokes you, coating the pads of his fingers with your arousal, and then he’s entering you, pushing softly inside, your walls stretching around one finger, and then two as he begins to curl upwards, applying pressure where it’s needed.

“Good enough?” He teases, a smirk on his face, but you’re too overwhelmed to reply.

“I’ll take your gasps as a yes,” he chuckles, and you want to answer him back so bad, but you can’t.

You’re filled with pleasure, your hips riding up as you move with him, moaning as he begins to straighten his digits out and fuck you with them. Your reaction makes him go faster, and you find yourself staring at the concentration on his face, his own gaze between your legs, watching the way you greedily suck his fingers inside you.

His expression is beyond turned on, but you only realise how much he’s losing control when you notice him rub at his crouch with his other hand, desperate to relieve some tension on his ever-growing erection. Now it’s all you can see, hard and confined in his jeans. And you want it. Inside you. Now.

You stretch your arm out to grip the edge of his t-shirt, tugging at the fabric. “Take your clothes off,” you tell him.

“Really,” he asks, looking a little shocked, and you giggle, nodding your head.

“I’m not planning to be the only one naked on top of your car,” you quip, and his eyes widen.

Didn’t he realise you’d be having sex? It’s kind of cute, but your mind is only going in one direction, and honestly, as soon as you’d kissed him tonight, you’d wanted it to end in only one way.

He doesn’t need to be asked twice, and just like that he’s sliding his fingers out of you, reaching for the hem of his t-shirt to rip it off. He’s beautiful under it, skin glowing in the overhead light, abs worked out slightly, just what you like, and you want to run your hands over his chest, but then he’s reaching for his jeans as you sit up, tearing the buttons lose to kick them down his legs. His dick’s as hard as it can get, you’re sure, perfectly visible pressed against the leg of his green underwear, and your mouth waters, happy when he steps closer so you can finally get your hands on him.

“Shit,” he chuckles breathlessly when you grip his length over the fabric, giving it a squeeze. “This is pretty crazy.”

“Wait,” you stop, mid panic when you realise something, looking around. “There aren’t any cameras here, right?”

“No,” he laughs, reassuring you, hands coming up to caress your shoulders as you continue to stroke him.

“Good,” you sigh in relief, watching his reactions.

A lot of his hair has come lose from his bun by now, falling into his eyes, but he looks so good, jaw slack, one hand sliding down to cup the underside of your left breast, massaging the flesh. His touch is perfect, and you don’t think you can wait any longer. You begin to play with the waistband of his underwear, fingers curling under to feel his scorching skin.

“Do you have a condom?”

“Uh, yeah,” he says, before repeating, “yeah, I do—one moment.”

You watch with anticipation as he reaches for his jeans again, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. Your heart dances when you see the familiar foil packet between his fingers, and then you’re not breathing, not blinking, when he reaches for his length in his underwear and kicks the fabric off. It looks so delectable in his fist, even more so when he slips the latex on and gives it a tug, making sure it’s on correctly.

“Okay,” he says, tone a little apprehensive, and it hits you he might be a little nervous. It’s cute.

“I hope we don’t slide off,” he comments, bracing himself on top of the car as you lie down under him.

“We can do it on the floor, I don’t care,” you shrug, before smirking, “but I guess it’s some sort of wet dream of yours to fuck me on your hood, right?”

“Honestly,” he admits, already a little breathless, “I’m a mess either way. You have no idea what you do to me.”

“Cute,” you coo, but inside his confession turns you weak. You want him now more than ever, and you drag at his hips, desperate.

“Now hurry up,” you tell him, before admitting quietly, “I’m a mess too.”

He nods, turning serious for a moment, before his hand is falling between your legs again, a slow smirk forming on his face.

“You are,” he agrees, and then the head of his dick is at your entrance, rubbing against it, teasing you. “You’re really wet—ah—wait,” he stops you when you try to push up into him.

It’s not fair, you want him so badly. “Stop teas—mmm,” you shut up suddenly when he finally pushes inside you, slowly, inch by inch, letting you stretch around him comfortably, and the pleasure is instant.

“Shit,” you gasp.

“Indeed,” he murmurs, now beginning to thrust inside you gently. The sensation makes your toes curl, feet desperately clamped down to the hood, your arms wrapping around his neck, rooting yourself to him as you roll your hips into his.

“You feel really good,” he grunts.

“Go faster,” you can’t help but tell him, needing more. Needing for him to give you whatever he can.

And he does, hips snapping faster into yours as he pants, applying more pressure, making you moan out, the feeling of him stretching you out, moving in an out, a beautiful friction, and you’re on top of this world. The hard surface of his car not even a bother any more, not when you’re with him like this.

“Fuck,” you groan, digging your nails into his shoulders, needing to hold onto him. “—So good.”

“Yeah?” He pants, looking down at you as he thrusts into you, clamping his hands under your thighs to stop you from jiggling too much. “You’re sliding,” he chuckles.

He’s right. You’re slipping under the blanket, making his dick fall out of you every time he pushes in. It’s getting harder to ignore, and you push at his shoulders, wanting to try another position.

“Wait,” you say, sitting up and he follows. “Stand up.”

He listens, still inside of you, but with him stood and you sat up, it’s so much easier to carry on. Hotter too as you grip around his neck, kissing him now, moaning when he begins thrusting into you again, fingers gripping your waist, and you love the way he touches you, the feel of his hands. You love the way he kisses you, love the way he feels inside of you. Love the way he looks right now, slightly clammy to the touch, muscles in his back flexing under your fingertips.

“Good?” He asks you, a breathless smile on his face, and you nod, watching him let out a long drawn out groan as he gives one slow thrust of his hips, overcome with pleasure.

“Shit, I’m getting so deep like this.”

“You are,” you agree with a moan, letting your forehead rest on his chest as he continues going slow, the feeling so intense your heart begins to squeeze against your chest, core burning, face hot, senses heightened.

It’s only when you look down, half moaning his name, vision a little blurred from scrunching your eyes closed, do you focus and see something pretty horrific, if you do say so yourself.

“You still have your socks on, ew!”

“Don’t look down then,” he exclaims back, sounding comically offended. “Look at something else—Actually,” he tells you, “on second thoughts, lie down.”

You listen, letting your back fall gently down on the blanket, and the sight seems to send Hoseok into a frenzy. He moves faster, eyes loving the way your breasts jiggle up and down, and he grunts with every thrust, more hair falling from his bun, some baby hairs stuck to his forehead with sweat. He looks hot, and it’s enough to make you want to explode with pleasure.  

“You want me dead,” he comments, both hands reaching to hold your hips as he jerks into you harder, more precise.

“Maybe I took out life insurance on you,” you shrug, and he raises an eyebrow, puzzled, but amused.

“You’re such a weirdo, do you know that?” He laughs with a pant, “and you talk too casually during sex.”

That’s true, always unable to take yourself too seriously, but he seems to like it. It just shows how comfortable you are with one another.

“Maybe you have to make me shut—fuck.” You interrupt yourself because as you’re finishing off your sentence, he thrusts super hard into you, pleasure bursting out every nerve of your body.

“Already on it,” he says through gritted teeth, having you moaning madly in seconds.

“Fuck,” you pant, unable to shut up, your mind a blur of emotions, unable to make sense of anything other than, yup, this might be it, might be enough to finish you off…

“Keep going, don’t stop,” you practically beg, your lower stomach turning in knots, thighs burning, clit throbbing for some extra attention.

“Gonna cum?” He grunts, watching your every expression.

“Maybe,” you gasp. “If you—shit—hand!”

You’re not even making sense anymore, but you’re desperate, wanting to come so badly you’ll resort to begging on your knees if you have to… Luckily, it doesn’t come to that, and with a little more explaining, his hands between your legs, where it should be.

“I need your hand,” you whine.

Surprisingly, he knows what a clit is. That, or you’re just so swollen he could hover his thumb over you and you’d burst. The pleasure is like a hot white liquid searing through your body, making you squirm under him, the pull of your orgasm building up and up, and you scrunch your eyes closed, concentrating on the feeling, images of Hoseok’s fucked out form above you flashing through your mind, helping you along.

“Hoseok—jesus christ,” you grit out, moaning loudly as it finally hits you.

It’s so intense your head hurts as you come back down to earth, too afraid to open your eyes just yet as your body goes from hot to cold, Hoseok’s thumb slowing down before he grips your thigh, careful not to continue to thrust too hard as he waits for your reaction.

You peak one eye open, the view above you turning you into mush. Hoseok’s panting, watching between your bodies, where he ends and you begin, sliding in and out of you, and it’s only when you come back to life, soft hums or mhm mhm leaving you does he look up at your face, his eyes glazed and blown out, jaw slack. He looks gorgeous, out of this world, and you still want more.

“H-hoseok,” you murmur. “Fuck me more.”

He groans, from deep within his chest, the sound breaking half way through, and then he’s practically growling, jumping you as he clambers onto the car. “So fucking hot,” he gets out as you squeal, gripping onto his arms so you don’t slide down the hood, and then he’s inside you again, thrusting messily.

He’s close, you can sense it, just by the way he’s breathing deeply, each one ragged, forearms shaking as he holds up his weight, until he gives up slightly and buries his head in your neck, your hair in his face.

“Shit, gon-gonna cum,” he grits, hips stuttering as he collapses into your body, his freezing as he releases.

He stays there for a moment, both of you panting until your breathing evens out, and he lifts his head up, a long drawn out fuck leaving him as he smirks. He slowly pulls out of you, standing up to help you sit, your body a little stiff, but you’re warm, so warm, and content. There’s a silence, both pretty speechless, but in a good way, and as you smile up at him, you finally find the breath to say something.

“I’m so glad this didn’t happen on Heathcliff…”

There’s a beat of silence before he’s laughing his ass off, cupping your face in his hands as he leans in, placing a kiss on your lips. “Be quiet,” he murmurs, but just like that you’re pulling him back, not wanting it to end.

.

.

“How about I take you on a proper date next week?” Hoseok asks, standing up from tying his shoelace on his boot. “We can go for a meal somewhere, finally reimburse you,” he teases.

You sidle up to him, nudging his shoulder with yours. “Wasn’t that just enough?”

Your legs are still a little weak, even after you’d gotten dressed and walked around a little. You would definitely be thinking of this night for many more to come…

“Oh,” he lets out, looking offended. “So you were using me for my body?”

“Maybe,” you joke, letting him wrap his arms around your waist as he hugs you. “No, but actually, a meal sounds great,” you nod, enjoying the happiness that spreads in the form of a grin on his face, but of course it’s you, and you can’t let him live, not even for more than a minute, because you know he loves it.

“I can use you for food privileges, too.”

#hoseok smut #bts smut #hoseok fanfic #bts fanfic #hoseok scenarios #bts scenarios #floralseokjin:writings #fic:in the car

[allthevmff]

Funeral Masses for Aaron Echolls: Viewing Hours 4 to 6

by iateyourheart

xx

Reporter 1: We're here outside of the Neptune County Jail where the body of actor Aaron Echolls was discovered this morning. The star of such films as In Pursuit of Happiness was awaiting trial for the murder of Lilly Kane, daughter of software mogul, Jake Kane. The official cause of death has not yet been revealed...

xx

  The worst part of all of this crap, has to be the look on their faces. It's a rather piss poor attempt at sympathy that's more than likely fueled by good manners than any honest-to-god trace of the aforementioned emotion. Despite the maximum sadness factor, you appreciate the effort they put into the lie.

And, yeah, you get it. Honestly, you do.

Aaron Echolls may have been god's biggest misuse of human cells, but the man was still your father; a bit of respect is still required in situations such as these, whether the not-so dearly departed truly deserves it.

You understand where they're coming from. Why they would feel the need to offer you condolences and ask how you're doing. Seriously. You understand completely.

But, you don't for a second let this rare sign of maturity keep you from being annoyed as fuck by all of these forced, insincere pleasantries. You weren't fucking born yesterday and you know the breaking news blurb on the death of that part-time actor, full-time sociopath lifted a weight off of many-a-shoulder. Somewhere, church bells were probably ringing, and little forest creatures with wide anime expressions were probably hopping around singing with glee.

You may understand where they're coming from, but you just wish people would cut the shit already and be honest.

So, when you breeze into the hotel room and find Veronica and Duncan cozily snuggled up like the walking embodiment of teen-dream puppy love that they are, and they grace you with uncomfortable looks and fumbled words "How are you holding up?", you're armed with a plan.

Well, not so much a plan as it is a statement. There's no doubt your feelings are going to be conveyed quite nicely:

Duncan says nothing and Veronica gives you a look that smells of righteous indignation when you flop down in between them with a bottle of Boonesfarm in your hand. Deliciously ghetto, but gets you wasted all the same.

"Flip it to CNN," you order as you go to work on unscrewing the top of the Blue Hawaiian flavored alcohol.

"What the hell are you doing?" Veronica's giving you the eye. She disapproves already. That's ashame, really, cause you planned on sharing.

There's a sigh from Duncan, but he complies, and the moment you hear the reporter mention dear ole' daddy's name, you take a big swig from the bottle.

"Celebrating," you tell her after a particularly hard swallow. "Here's to..." you begin hoisting the bottle in the air with mock dramatics, "here's to aneurysms. Nature's little miracles."

  xx

Tonight, on The Insider – the emotional interview with the daughter of Aaron Echolls, you don't want to miss.

:video clip:

Pat O'Brien: Had your father lived, do you believe he would have been acquitted of murder charges?

Trina Echolls: Oh, definitely. Definitely. I, know he was innocent. There was just so much misinformation about him before he died...

Pat O'Brien: The claims of abuse...

Trina Echolls: Right. It's all nonsense, Pat. My dad was a good man; he couldn't hurt a fly let alone his own children!

:end video clip:

xx

  "To my beloved daughter, Trina, I bequeath all of my personal effects in the house..."

A snort. "Good luck collecting that."

"Totaling two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars. In addition, I also leave you a total of five million dollars. To my son, Logan..."

This should be good.

"...I leave a total of five million as well..."

Your face scrunches; hell, you were expecting a little more than a measly five mill – five million doesn't exactly say "Sorry I murdered your girlfriend, son".

"That's it? What about my trust fund?"

A sour expression forms on Barry's face and he makes a show of clearing his throat and ruffling papers. "Not to be touched until you're twenty-one. Both of your parents made that fact very clear."

"And, uh, how exactly am I supposed to collect all of my share?" Trina speaks up suddenly. "Half of it is char grilled thanks to him."

Obviously, your sis missed that memo on the fire that claimed casa-de Echolls; the one that points out the fact that the arsonists backs were considerably wet in nature. You, however, fake shock complete with your hand on your chest and a gasp. It has the desired affect and Trina narrows her brown eyes while mumbling something that's either a threat or a curse – most likely both. She can be so incredibly easy sometimes.

"You'll have to take that up with the insurance company. Although, I think there were a few items of Aaron's that survived the fire..." Barry's sifting through papers again and you take the opportunity to clean your fingernails with his letter opener. "Ah, yes," he says when he's found what he was searching for, "Three of Aaron's awards were recovered: two Golden Globes and a Blockbuster award. They now belong to you."

You can't help but smile,

"No fair! Clearly, dad liked the you best!"

  xx

Reporter 2: Funeral services for Aaron Echolls get underway today at St. Francis Catholic Church...

xx

  "You, know, I don't understand this at all."

It's amazing, the amount of strangers who show up at the church. Fans with your father's face adorning their T-shirts. Reporters with their cameras and questions.

"What is with this attitude, son?"

Only five people Aaron actually knew in life came to his funeral. Trina's flavor of the month, counted just as much as the flask you hid away in your pocket. And when your grandmother disappeared back into the comfort of her limo, and Conner Larkin walked outside to take questions, and Barry decided to head to the cemetery, and Trina's date grew tired of the bleak atmosphere and whisked her away, you were the only one left.

All alone. With him.

"Where I stand, you should be thanking me."

The grin on your father's face is enough to turn your stomach so hard you fear you might collapse. His head cocks to the side on that pillow of eternal rest and those cold eyes burn into yours.

"Thanking you?" your voice is shaky. You grip the side of the casket for support.

"For taking Lilly off your hands," he tells you simply. "She didn't exactly love you, you know."

Your mouth fills up with blood and at that point, you think it's best to remove your teeth from the meat of your cheek. "Shut up."

"I was only trying to protect you, Logan. It's just like you to take a piece of ass and try and turn her into a housewife." He tsks. "Once a whore, always a whore."

"You know shit about Lilly."

"C'mon, you've seen the tapes." Aaron chuckles and you feel a sudden urge to vomit. "For all intents and purposes, I think I knew her pretty well. I did you a favor, boy."

"You murdered my girlfriend, and you fucking got away with it! Do you really think I'm gonna mourn you? Shed one tear because you got to die in your sleep all quick and painless?" You glower, your hand gripping the casket's side so tightly your knuckles are white as sheets. "I should've bashed your head in while I had the chance. Or set you on fire."

"Oh, so is that what all of this hostility is all about? Veronica Mars?" His laugh echoes in your ears. "I hear she's dating Duncan again. Don't 'cha wish she would have stayed in that refrigerator just a few minutes longer?"

Aaron's casket rattles violently when you kick it. Your right foot feels as if it's been broken in two, but on a scale of one-to-ten measuring how much your very existence sucks beyond the telling of it, physical pain doesn't even register.

"Logan?"

It's her concerned voice that pulls you back to reality.

  xx

:video clip:

Conner Larkin: All I ask is that you show the Echolls family the respect they deserve during this difficult time.

:end video clip:

xx

  You fractured your right foot. Way to go, brain trust.

Veronica sits, arms folded, watching you greedily gulp down the pain killers the nurse handed you. She patiently waits until the two of you are alone again,

"Did it make you feel any better?"

The question's sincere; you're just too slow to stop your mouth from spitting out the first dickhead-ish sentence that comes to mind.

"Right as rain," you snicker. "Grey skies clearing up. I'm putting on my happy face."

"Logan, I'm..." she starts and stops at the sound of your hollow laughter.

"Don't even think about telling me you're sorry, Veronica. If you feel that bad – pick out a Hallmark card and let Snoopy say it for you, cause I've heard enough 'sorrys' to last a lifetime."

She stares at you for a minute before wordlessly sitting down on the end of the hospital bed. "I'm sorry he never paid for what he did," she says quietly and you know that will be the last you ever hear of it from her lips. Veronica Mars isn't exactly the queen of overstating emotion and you'd likely drop fucking dead of shock if she did it more than once.

The pills are kicking in and to say that you feel good at the moment would be an understatement.

You fall asleep with your fingers entwined with hers.

  xx

Tonight on The Insider... Brad and Angelina, could wedding bells be just around the corner?

xx

  Giving you a cane is like giving a wino a bottle of Old English. You're quick to use it to test the limits of your fellow man; you poke waitresses, jab unsuspecting children, and get out of hours of tedious homework. When your temporary cripple status doesn't work, you kindly remind everyone you're an orphan.

An orphan with a bum foot.

Dick thinks it's hilarious. Duncan merely shakes his head and smiles at your antics. Veronica says that maybe you've been watching those House dvd's a little too much.

After your episode at the church, everyone suggests you go and see a shrink. Talk things out. Get some closure.

"Batter, up?"

You've got your own ideas on the matter.

Cane in hand, you hobble up to the makeshift plate and throw Veronica a smile over your shoulder as you fix the goggles over your eyes.

"I still don't think it's fair that you get first up," she pouts.

"Hey, when your daddy kills your girlfriend, then you can get first bat," you sardonically tell her.

She grins. "Pinky swear?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die."

Never one to pass up an opportunity for the dramatic, you point your cane out toward the sky as if you were the Great Bambino himself, and with one fluid motion, you bring the oak crashing down.

The Blockbuster Award for Favorite Actor in a Romantic Comedy shatters into a million, tiny pieces.

You'll do this closure thing in your own, special way.

via AO3 works tagged 'Veronica Mars - All Media Types' https://ift.tt/2K1PYik April 3, 2019 at 04:50AM

#IFTTT #Feedly #veronica mars fanfic #vm fic

[plumoh]

[NatsuYuu] flickering blue

Word count: 1731

Summary: Reiko could have told Souko her name a long time ago, but losing on her own terms only seems right.

Note: AO3 link. why is reiko like that

One-shot: flickering blue

This is bad.

This is really bad.

Reiko should have stopped coming here after the first day. There is nothing pulling her towards this part of the forest and she has no obligation to look out for every fool wandering into places they shouldn't.

And yet. And yet. Days passed and keep passing, each of them with one hour of pure freedom and relaxation—a feeling she hasn't experienced for a long time, if ever. She racks her brains searching for a memory springing up similar emotions, and all she does is chuckle at how empty-handed she comes back. Maybe that's why she stayed; maybe that's why she feels drawn to this girl who doesn't know anything about her.

Souko is bad at everything she challenges her to. If she wasn't so obvious about her feelings and her thoughts, Reiko would have wondered if she was a youkai trying to deceive her simply to humiliate her—but Souko is real, earnest and innocent, just putting all her heart into a task that shouldn't require that much effort. Reiko is being stubborn, and can stop this masquerade whenever she wants, if she utters a single word.

But she finds herself unable to, her throat closing up as soon as she attempts to curl her lips around her own name. She isn't doing it out of malice, she doesn't think so; there is just something incredibly soothing and pleasant in being around Souko, calming her nerves and reducing the mild headache she gets because of too many loud youkais sneering at her. Pretending to be someone she isn't is almost unnecessary, and Reiko likes it that way.

“Why are you so hell-bent on knowing my name?” she blurts out one day, without thinking.

Reiko is watching some youkai bird flying from one tree to another, and Souko probably thinks she's just following the clouds' movement in the sky. For a few seconds both of them are silent, and Reiko is about to sigh and say to forget it when Souko speaks.

“Isn't it sad to know someone, to know their face, but you can't call out to them?”

The spell is broken. Reiko sits up so suddenly that Souko startles, staring at her with confusion, questions and wonders visible in her eyes—and maybe there is a bit of hope dancing behind them, like this sentence sparked more than just shock. Reiko's face doesn't let anything seep through, although her heart is beating fast and her mind is collecting shards of bemusement.

“So you want to be able to casually shout my name to get my attention?” she says, a slight smirk on her lips.

Souko's cheeks take a faint shade of pink, and while her smile is shy and unsure, she is sincere. “A name has different meanings, and associating a face with one is nice. F-For example, people think blue suits me because of my name.”

Reiko doesn't tell her how right these people are, and simply laughs, lying down once more, content, as Souko offers her her bag to sleep on.

***

Physical intimacy is a concept Reiko is not familiar with, unless it involves the contact of her fist to someone's jaw. That's why she feels perplexed by her strong desire to touch Souko's hair, or to grab her hand for no apparent reason (she remembers grabbing her wrist to lead her away, and her fingers burn from the memory). Souko looks so delicate that she fears she might break her if she puts too much strength in her grip, and that's the only thing that restrains her from acting like an idiot.

Not that Souko really is weak. She doesn't back down from anything, and it's only a shame that her body can't keep up with her mind.

She will tell her today. There is no point in dragging these challenges for so long, if it costs Souko her health. Perhaps it's the most entertaining time of her day, but Reiko isn't one to ignore what is before her eyes, and letting Souko get sick is out of the question.

She finds her waiting at her usual spot, deep in thought. The youkais are babbling nonsense, though Reiko has become immune to their stupidity and has tuned them out a long time ago.

“Is thinking all you ever do?”

Souko lifts her head and immediately a smile replaces her forlorn expression. Reiko frowns.

“You look upset.”

“Ah, it's nothing serious,” Souko softly replies. “I'm just being silly.”

Reiko plops down next to her, her hands landing in the grass and gripping a few strands. She notices Souko's hands folding in her lap, like she didn't know where to put them.

“Well, everyone is a bit stupid,” Reiko retorts. “Some people more than others.”

“That's not very kind of you to say that,” Souko chides, but there is no heat in her words.

“Not my fault it's true.”

Souko glances at her, a bit apprehensive, a bit nervous, and Reiko can't find a reason behind her behavior, unless yesterday's conversation affected her more than she thought. What, did she really think there was a problem with her wanting to know her name?

“So, what's the challenge today?” Reiko asks, waving a hand in Souko's general direction. “Are you well enough for something physical?”

Reiko pauses, and reconsiders her words. A smile stretches her lips.

“Actually, I'm going to decide for today's challenge. If I can tell what you're thinking, I win, if I guess wrong I'll tell you my name.”

Souko looks utterly lost at the strange request, though Reiko can't blame her—they've never done this kind of challenge before, and were it in any other context she would have called it ridiculous. Somewhere in her mind, a voice is telling her it is ridiculous, serving as a pretense when she can simply give what Souko wants without shielding herself behind a loss. Maybe she needs it to feel strong enough—to entrust her name to someone that will cherish it.

“Alright,” Souko finally accepts, her wariness still present in her features.

Reiko turns her head to look at Souko. Her gaze briefly lingers on her pink cheeks and bright eyes, staring at her with wonder, and Souko's look is similar, and Reiko tries to not let the warmth spreading in her body reflect on her face. For someone who was an open-book for days, Souko abruptly seems distant, hiding her emotions, but that crease between her brows is still the same.

“You're worried you'll never win against me, and will never know my name,” Reiko states calmly.

Maybe it's a bit egoistical to presume Souko is thinking about her, but Reiko has met enough people to know a conversation with her never leads to something peaceful or good for either party. And after declaring this challenge, she couldn't escape anymore.

Souko is quiet, for a moment, then she opens her mouth, closes it, multiple times, before settling for laughing. And she laughs, laughs, the sound of her voice sending a new wave of awe in Reiko's entire core.

“It could have been that, but you guessed wrong,” Souko chuckles. “You lost.”

Reiko stares, surprise covering a thin layer of relief. Her face breaks into a grin.

“I got ahead of myself, I guess. Fine, you win.”

“Oh, and... uhm... Before you tell me your name, I want to tell you what I was thinking about.”

Reiko raises an eyebrow. Souko is fidgeting again, folding and unfolding her hands in her lap, but then she takes a deep breath and looks right at Reiko.

“You're going to find me weird, you probably won't talk to me again...”

Reiko firmly believes that this was her line.

“...But it's only fair that you know why you lost.” She licks her lips, lowering her gaze. “I... I was thinking about kissing you.”

Time slows. Something twists inside her, curls around her heart and pushes, gently, urgently, and Reiko decides that everything is one magnificently devised mess.

She gets up, standing right in front of Souko, who refuses to meet her eyes.

“Hey, Souko.”

It's the second time she calls her by her name and—it lights up hope in Souko's face, as she instinctively answers to the call and lifts her head. She looks ready to bolt out of here. Reiko faintly smiles as she bends down, not hesitating one bit, or faltering, even when her lips meet Souko's in a soft press that's hardly anything more than a touch. A breeze, sweet and kind, that neither of them knows what to make of. When Reiko pulls away, she's wearing an expression that not many people has seen, probably. She doesn't know what she looks like either, anyway.

“I'm Natsume Reiko.”

She sees the recognition dawning on Souko, sees the way her eyes widen, both from the kiss and the name. Usually, Reiko would have left, after doing such a foolish thing; she would have turned her back on anything that might happen. However, she's still waiting, tricking her fear with the sight of Souko slowly smiling at her, a little dazed, a little incredulous.

“Reiko,” she whispers. “It suits you.”

Reiko's voice takes on a wistful tone. “You're not afraid?”

“I know you won't hurt me. I know you're not like that.”

Whatever 'that' meant—violent, untrustworthy, unreliable, or a liar.

“You won't want to stay with me, after you see my ugly side.”

“Right now, I want to stay. I want to know you better and to understand why you always seem so lonely.” Souko presses her lips together. “I want to make you smile for real.”

And suddenly, Souko springs forward, wrapping Reiko in a tight hug. She's clinging to her back.

“I can reach out to you, now.”

Perhaps it's a whim. Perhaps it's the honest words. Perhaps Reiko has always wanted someone to say these heartfelt words to her, only for her, so she hugs back, bringing her arms around Souko's shoulders and squeezing. A soft chuckle escapes Souko's throat.

“Don't cry, Reiko.”

And it's Reiko's turn to laugh.

“I'm not crying, you idiot.”

Relationships are fickle. She knows that; the ones built upon lies even more so.

But she wants that, just once in her life, to feel accepted and wanted for who she is. She will think about the consequences later, after the tears dry.

#natsume yuujinchou #natsuyuu #natsume reiko #morinaga souko #reiko x souko #my fanfic #what is their ship name

[mononoke-no-ko]

[TRANS] R2 Sound Episode #2: Kururugi Village, The Inn of Evil Spirit, Scary Geass is Truly Existed

Full translation below.

Kururugi’s Village, The Inn of Evil Spirit, Scary Geass is Truly Existed  

(footsteps)

Suzaku: Looking over from the long staircase that reaches the main hall of Kururugi Shrine, the scenery I encounter is still the same as before. This quiet pastoral scenery reminds me of childhood memories I had spent together with Lelouch and Nunnally. The scent of the wind and the sound of twitting birds are still there. However, now I'm not the same as I was then. Knight of Seven, a knight who’ve sworn allegiance to the Emperor of Britannia, Kururugi Suzaku. But only for today, I have to go back to the old me. In order to finish the mission that cannot be accomplished by anyone but me.

(footsteps)

Gino: Huh? I heard that there's a festival in Suzaku's hometown so I even came here to see it. But there's nothing at all here, Lelouch.

Lelouch: Yeah, that's because after Suzaku left, this place became unhabitated.

Anya: Lelouch, where's the FAVORITE-grill?

Lelouch: FAVORITE-grill?

Anya: An Area 11's food that's similar to pizza.

C.C.: Pizza? Where's the pizza?

Anya: Not pizza, FAVORITE-grill.

Lelouch: Oh, perhaps you mean Okonomiyaki? (TN: a name of Japanese food usually sold in traditional festival. Okonomi = taste,as one's like,preference, Yaki = grill)

Anya: I can't find GOLDEN FISH CATHER either.

Lelouch: It's Kingyo Sukui. (TN: Literally means "snatching goldfish", it's a must-have game in Japanese traditional festivals)

Rolo: Brother, just like Gino and Anya said, it seems there is no festival here.

Lelouch: As I've explained, Rolo. I did say that we're going to have a matsuri (offering, worshiping to god), but I didn't say that there is going to be omatsuri (festival).

Rolo: Is it different?

Lelouch: Completely different. The offering I mentioned is a ritual to appease the god that resides in this shrine. The one you were talking about is a temple fair. Basically a FESTIVAL. It's totally different.

C.C.: Eh, so boring. Why do we have to go to see that ritual?

Anya: Number's language is so hard to understand.

Lelouch: Look up the dictionary! Then again, the ones who want to come here in the first place are you guys.

Gino: What is Suzaku going to do here?

Lelouch: That I don't know either. Kururugi Shrine has different origin than the usual Shinto beliefs in Japan. Its origin is older than the establishment of Japan, no, I heard it even goes back to the time before recorded history.

C.C.: Eh, really.

Lelouch: There are various theories on which Shinto shrine is the oldest in Japan, but the most influential among all is the Ōmiwa Shrine in Nara Prefecture. This shrine is the place to worship Ōmononushi-no-kami as the main god, as well as Ōnamuchi-no-kami and Sukunahiko-no-kami.

C.C.: Anya, today your getup looks unusual. What exactly are you wearing?

Anya: Miko(shrine maiden)’s dress. Gino said it's a must-wear for festivals.

Lelouch: I've been wondering for awhile, why the plaque of Kururugi Shrine's main god is hidden. In Buddhist temples, there are hidden Buddhas that can't be seen for religious reasons, but such thing is rare for a Shinto shrine...

Gino: Because, there's someone who said that for Elevens' shrine festival even if you don't know anything else, first of all you need a miko. OH, JAPANESE MIKO GIRL, VERY CUTE.

Anya: AHA~, THANK YOU SO MUCH

Lelouch: Pay attention when other people are talking!

C.C.: Oh, so you're still here, Lelouch.

Lelouch: Listen, since all of you were asking, I was trying to explain what Suzaku is going to-  

Suzaku: What am I going to do, Lelouch?

Everyone: Suzaku!

Suzaku: I thought it was so noisy, turns out it's because of you guys. Why are you here?

Lelouch: Cutting to the chase; to see what you'll be doing.

Suzaku: What the, you bothered to come here just for that reason. By the way Anya, what's with  that strange clothes?

Gino: It's a miko, Suzaku.

Suzaku: Miko? But isn't she wearing miniskirt?

Gino: Eh?! But this is what your friend with funny glasses told me to prepare, you know.

Suzaku: As I thought, it was Lloyd's idea.

C.C.: Indeed, although I have had several experiences as a miko, I've only worn it with that sort of miniskirt in a cosplay event.

Lelouch: What!?

Suzaku: C.C.'s cosplay. . . .

(imagining)

C.C.: Okay, THINKING TIME is over. Boys, are your delusion finished yet?

Gino, Lelouch, Suzaku: YES MY LORD

C.C.: That being said, that's a big luggage you got there, Kururugi Suzaku. What are you bringing?

Suzaku: Oh, this? Well, what's in this bag is the props needed for the ritual.

Lelouch: Would you do it according to the conduct of Engi-shiki, after all?

Suzaku: What? 'Engi-shiki'? What's that?

Lelouch: As an heir to a Shinto shrine, how could you don't know about things like this. The Engi-shiki is an important literature in Japan that has been passed down from ancient times. It's like a manual for Shinto shrine's activities.

Suzaku: Ah, my family has nothing to do with those.

Lelouch: What?

(Open the luggage)

Suzaku: Well since Kururugi Shrine is a pagan, so for props needed in the rituals, we're using these...

Lelouch: Suzaku!

Gino: Whoa...

Rolo: What's that?

Anya: Gross.

Lelouch: That red and black liquid in that glass jar... could it be...

Suzaku: This is the blood that was squeezed from a decapitated chicken head in the middle of crossroad at midnight.

Rolo: Then, what about that strawdoll?

Suzaku: A cursed strawdoll that was buried for 49 days besides a grave that has no offerings.

Gino: And this rusty iron bar is?

Suzaku: It's katana. A sword that was used to cut off criminals' head in ancient time.

C.C.: It's a pretty unique collection.

Suzaku: This is already much better than the old times. It is said that a hundred years ago, the most beautiful girl in the village is offered as sacrifice.

Lelouch: I've never heard of the usage of these props in a ritual. What are you planning to do here?

Suzaku: Sealing evil spirits. Kururugi Shrine was originally built for this purpose, and the strength of the seal have gradually weakened, so it must be renewed for every 30 years.

Gino: What would happen if it's not renewed?

Suzaku: The seal will be lifted, and the evil spirits will be resurrected.

Lelouch: Evil spirits? What nonsense.

Suzaku: And yet, this is a ritual that must be performed by those who inherit the Kururugi's blood. Then, I'll begin the preparation for the ritual.

Lelouch: So, Suzaku, how will you perform the ritual?

Suzaku: Well, in a word, that is... casually.

C.C.: Casually?

Suzaku: Well, I don't know the details, but this kind of thing is just a matter of feelings.

Rolo: Is that right, brother?

Lelouch: Y-yeah! Precisely.

Suzaku: Well then, ehm ehm. Evil spirits begone, evil spirits begone, be cleansed, be purified, evil spirits begone, evil spirits begone...!

C.C.: Hmm this is more a joke than expected.

Anya: Really just casual.

Lelouch: Oi, Suzaku, somehow the air turns bad.

C.C.: Now that you mentioned it...

Anya: There's something coming out from inside the altar!

Evil Spirit (with Emperor Charles' voice): Who dare to disturb me in my sleep, paparapa~?

Everyone: Ooooh!!

Lelouch: What is this monster?! Is this really an evil spirit?

Evil Spirit: So it's you people who sing strange spells in my ear, paparapa~.

Everyone: No, that's only Kururugi Suzaku.

Suzaku: Eeehh?!

Evil Spirit: I see, so it's you! Long time no see Kururugi's son, paparapa~.

Suzaku: Eh, err, um, excuse me, is it correct that you're a classified evil spirit?

Lelouch: Why used polite speech.

Evil Spirit: The answer is YES. Now let me eat all of you, paparapa~

Gino: The development is too fast.

Rolo: Because we've already far exceeded the scheduled time after all.

Lelouch: Suzaku, what're you planning to do for this kind of situation!?

Suzaku: Shit! Casual incantation are not enough after all!

Anya: It can even be said it's counterproductive.

Suzaku: Aish! Now that it comes to this, only Lancelot can be used to dispel the evil spirit!

(Lancelot starter)

Suzaku: Damn evil spirit, prepare yourself!

Evil Spirit: Don't underestimate me, paparapa.

Suzaku: I got defeated in just a brief-aaaah....!

Lelouch: What?! With just one attack Suzaku's Lancelot is...

Gino: Then, let me use Tristan to... aaah!

Anya: Gino; instantly killed.

Rolo: I'll stop the time with GEASS, then use Vincent to... waaah!

Lelouch: Rolo!

Rolo: I'm sorry, brother, I can't do anything....!

Suzaku, Gino, Rolo: Ah. . . . . !

Lelouch: There's no other way. Now that it comes to this, I have to be the one to do something to deal with this.

Evil Spirit: Oh? What kind of technique will you show me, paparapa?

Lelouch: There is no need for any technique. I just need to deny your existence.

Evil spirit: WHAT!?

Lelouch: Ghosts like evil spirits are nothing but strong imaginary that people themselves created. In other words, they're group hypnotic. Therefore, the you in front of me, are only an illusion created by my mind.

Evil Spirit: I am an illusion, paparapa?

Lelouch: Yes, Evil Spirit. Try to ask yourself, do you have parents, or families?

Evil Spirit: That kind of thing, I don't!

Lelouch: Right, you can't possibily do! Why? Because it's our brain that created you here, you don't actually exist. You're a shadow, an illusion!

Evil Spirit: What even...

Lelouch: Lelouch vi Britannia command you, for your entire existence to be denied!

Evil Spirit: As you said.... Don't screw with me! Paparapa.

Lelouch: Shit! So this isn't working after all.

Evil Spirit: Damn humans, wasting my time with these kinds of trick. This time I must eat all of you and bring disaster to this world, paparapa!

C.C.: What now that you’ve uselessly provoked him, Lelouch?

Lelouch: Don't panic! There was just a small error in my calculation.

Xingke: Well, we wouldn't want to get cursed because of your calculation error, would we.

Lelouch: What, Xingke!? And there's Tianzi too!

Xingke: I sensed a strange irregularity so I come down to check and find this situation. Tianzi-sama, what should we do?

Tianzi: There's no other way, Xingke. We can't just ignore it right, Kaguya-sama?

Kaguya: Right! Just as Tianzi-sama said.

Lelouch: Kaguya! Even you are...

Anya: Unconventional development.

Xingke: Rest assured, Lelouch, I was born in a family that mastered the art of Qimen Dunjia and Feng Shui from the past. This type of demon or evil spirit is no match for me.  

Tianzi: As expected from Xingke, really reliable.

Lelouch: No, I’ve never heard of such thing in your backstory.

Xingke: Don't mind too much, it's just a fun setting made for a spinoff story.

C.C.: No subtlety at all.

Xingke: Evil spirit, give in before my presence!  %^%%*^*$(%.... Come, everyone follow me!

Everyone: E-eeh?!

Lelouch: Do we have to recite that too, Xingke?

Xingke: That's right, this is the spell that's used to drive out the devil. Come, together!

Everyone: %^%%*^*$(%....  

Xingke: No energy! Say it louder!

Together: %^%%*^*$(%!!

Evil Spirit: Pfft, that kind of spell is useless, paparapa.

Xingke: Impossible! Why?!

Evil Spirit: An old spell like that has already outdated, paparapa. I'll also make you fly to the star!

Xingke: Waaah!

Tianzi: No~ Xingke....!

Lelouch: Tch! Is there nothing else we can do?!

Evil Spirit: However, it wouldn't be impossible to negotiate if the most beautiful woman in this area is dedicated to me as living sacrifice, paparapa.

Lelouch: Sacrifice?! Stop dreaming, Evil Spirit! Who would want to do such a thing?!

C.C.: I see. Although I'm reluctant, there's no other way but for me to give my body.

Kaguya: Wait a minute, C.C., that should be my role to fulfill!

Anya: The most suitable one should be me.

Tianzi: Even though I'm young, I have to become a sacrifice for Evil Spirit. It's heartbreaking, but it’s something that needs to be done.

Lelouch: W-wait! Why are all of you so eager to be the offering-wah!

Evil Spirit: The most beautiful women seem to be here.

C.C.: Since the most beautiful woman is the one to be appointed, there's no one else but ME, right?

Kaguya: If you are that cheeky, dying a thousand times won't be enough!

Tianzi: If we put future state into consideration, then for this role I should be-

Anya: Shut up, little girl.

Tianzi: You too are the same.

Lelouch: Gah! Stop it, all of you! I definitely won't let any of you to be a sacrifice! It's absolutely not allowed!

Evil Spirit: What is this? Is no one going to be the sacrifice? Then I'm going to annihilate all of you, paparapa.

Lelouch: !! Is it over for us!?

C.C.: It's too early to give up, Lelouch.

Lelouch: What?

C.C.: Only this spell I never want to use. But at this point, there's no other way. Listen well, Evil Spirit! The cursed existence in the Underworld, I command you in the name of Taniguchi Goro, immediately return to the realm in which you belong!

Evil Spirit: A-aaah...

Lelouch: He's disappearing? What is this spell!?

C.C.: In the name of Okouchi Ichiro, the end of cause and effect, the end of the beginning of universe, the point of chaos. Go to slumber in the permanent graveyard!

Evil Spirit: Ah... why is it...  why do I feel that if I don't listen to the order, something very horrible will happen? Ah, I really don't want to.... ah, paparapa!

Lelouch: The Evil Spirit is... gone!? We did it...! Amazing, C.C.!

Kaguya: It's annoying but I'll admit it's a brilliant skill.

Anya: A miraculous spell..., what is it?

C.C.: The spell that's used to praise the Creator who governs this world, and we cannot rebel against this Creator.

Lelouch: Is that so?

Tianzi: This sounds like creepy stories that sends chill down your spine.

Lelouch: Well, doesn't matter. With this, now the world is saved. Everyone! Let's go home!

Anya: I'm hungry.

C.C.: Me too, Lelouch.

Lelouch: Why are you telling me?

Kaguya: Then, let's eat pizza together!

C.C.: Oh, that's a really good idea.

Lelouch: Sigh, what a bunch of carefree people.

C.C.: Still not as much as you.

Everyone: Hahahaha!

(crows)

Rolo: Ah, it's the first star!

Xingke: In the mountains it gets dark pretty fast.

Gino: What do we do, Suzaku?

Rolo: Our KMF can't move anymore.

Suzaku: Soon Lelouch and the others will definitely find us. Just hold on for a while.

Gino: It seems like it will be cold tonight.

Xingke: Tianzi-sama, your Xingke is here.

Suzaku, Gino, Rolo, Xingke: Quickly come and find us....!

(crows)

#code geass #lelouch #suzaku kururugi #c.c. #code geass sound episode #anya alstreim #gino weinberg #li xingke #kaguya sumeragi #tianzi #rolo lamperouge #translation

[kinetic-elaboration]

March 2: Thoughts on 4x05 The Tinder Box

Finally watched 4x05. I have to say… I was anticipating that it would be bad (by which I mean uninteresting to me) based on the trailer but it was actually SO BAD that not only do I think it might be worse than even the shittiest S3 episodes, but I also think it might have tanked the whole season. And I was really optimistic and giving generally positive reviews of the season so far! But this was ATROCIOUS. I am so disillusioned and upset tbh.

Putting the rest under a cut so as not to harsh the buzz of anyone who might have liked the ep and/or not be so fatalistic about the season as I am.

Okay, a few things I liked-ish first.

I think the Raven stuff, with her brain going on overload, was interesting and I didn’t have a problem with it so much as it appeared in this episode, although it does make me wary. I’ll put the wariness below with the other ‘bad’ stuff but I will say I liked the floating sequence and I liked seeing a happy, excited, super-smart Raven even if the context was not so great.

Generally speaking, I had the least problems with the Becca’s lab story. I liked seeing more of Jackson and I thought Abby had some good moments too. Plus, while I don’t think tech-heavy sci fi of the bright white sheen variety fits this show very well, Becca’s lab was cool I will give it that.

It was a good Monty episode.

Yet again Bob Morley tragically under-used but his subtle expressions when he first suspected and later found out Octavia was alive = A+.

I’ve never had very strong feelings about Niylah since we’ve seen like 5 minutes of her before but I thought she was great in this episode and if we see more of her and more of her like this I’ll be happy. I loved how she and Clarke greeted each other this is my ideal ex-gf/ex-hookup scenario personally.  

I liked seeing Clarke in doctor mode.

…That’s it lol. The rest sucked major rhino balls.

 The stuff I didn’t like:

Oh where to start? I think I’ll go plot by plot.

Becca’s lab: I realize they’re somewhat constrained based on what they set up in that shitshow that was S3 but the narrative quality of the Becca story line was so poor last season—like I don’t care if the science is fake, even obviously fake, but it needs to be internally consistent and the Becca stuff was 100000% nonsense all the way down to the core, and pretty shallow and childish nonsense at that—so anything they come up with this season, whether “consistent” or retcon, is going to be side-eyed by me. The bar is VERY high for me to give a fuck and this episode didn’t meet the bar. Basically any time I hear about Becca’s lab or Becca’s experiments or Becca in space I just have this Pavlovian eye roll response because I know it’s going to be dumb; like I’ve just given up on any sense being made in this “story.”

I see you, Star Trek reference. (Okay, to be fair the concept of putting criminals on a boat and sending them away isn’t something Star Trek created and it is sort of an important detail of “Space Seed” that the criminals were super humans AND the tragic ham handed way that sci fi is dealt with here makes me think the PTB aren’t really familiar with sci fi let alone such classics as TOS BUT I’m sorry why did they have to be criminals? What sort of random detail is that? How does that make any sense? That just screams gratuitous “Space Seed” reference to me. And I put it in the negative column because I like The 100 but it’s often a mess and it’s not allowed to put its grubby paws on TOS.)

It was weird that last episode we had this big crew of people at Becca’s lab and now like half of them have disappeared. I mean, I know most of them are guest stars but, first of all Harper’s been in like every episode so far so fuck that and second of all it’s just jarring, like where the fuck did EVERYONE GO?

I’m getting pretty tired of the torture Raven Reyes show. Like it’s just literally never fucking ending.

I can’t believe they unveiled a fucking space ship and now they’re going to go into space? I’m sorry I’ve suspended a metric fuck ton of disbelief for this show but this is just beyond the pale I have rolled my eyes so far back into my head that all I can see anymore is the back of my skull.

The tinderbox: I anticipated finding this to be stupid because I am BOOOOOOOOOOORED of war stories I have literally seen 50 of them in this show alone I’m done. And there was nothing new here. Like...was this not literally the situation in 2A when Lxa’s army was ranged outside Camp Jaha? And Clarke has to negotiate to make it work? I’m not saying plots can’t be re-worked and called back to but there’s a difference between ‘we’ve shown you a similar moral problem in the past, here’s a new twist, do you still feel the same way?” and “this is literally the exact same scenario, without nuance then and without nuance now, that you’ve already watched. Let’s spend a good 50% or more of the episode on it!”

From a story telling perspective this plot suffered from two major and related flaws: First, the tension was created using Riley, a character who anyone with two brain cells to rub together should know should absolutely not be given a gun and brought to a tete-a-tete with the Ice Nation. I mean that’s just good sense. At the very least, perhaps they might have learned from previous Jasper experiences that mentally scarred people shouldn’t be armed and then set in front of their former tormentors. (Not that I blame Jasper for the Unity Day thing just saying that he has multiple times proven himself a liability for reasons very similar to the ones creating today’s Riley situation so not only is it obvious it’s a lesson they have literally learned before.) And people even note this! Repeatedly! Like 2, 3 different characters are like ‘hmmm maybe we shouldn’t given Riley a gun….?” YOU THINK SO HUH? Anyway I’m having a lot of fun mocking this but it’s just hilarious to me that not only do they write in this gigantic plot hole they have multiple characters point it out louder for the people in the back.

Second, and on a related note, there were too many main characters at stake for me to ever believe the tinder box would be lighted. Kane AND Bellamy AND Monty, plus potentially Harper and Riley (already credited in another three eps btw) and Papa Miller? Um yeah that bloodbath isn’t happening, I don’t care how long you stretch out that Bellamy/Riley/Echo scene. The result of these two issues was that there was no dramatic tension and the whole thing fell flat.

On a more personal level, while I loved Bob’s acting in the aforementioned show down with Riley and Echo it was VERY obvious to me that the point of that scene was not Riley, or Echo, or Ice Nation, or developing a theme, or developing the plot, or literally anything at all other than yet again shaming Bellamy for the massacre. I mean my fucking God Monty and Harper are given dialogue that implies Monty wasn’t part of the Pike Kill Squad (I know he joined up post-massacre but he was a Pikist let’s not forget that) and yet here Literal Male Lead Bellamy is STILL FUCKING ATONING I mean I’m bored of this. If the audience hasn’t forgiven Bellamy now they never will. Stop beating the dead horse.

And on an even more personal level… I’m sorry, I don’t like Harper, she’s yet to show a personality and this episode managed to simultaneously include a metric fuck ton of shots of her and not develop that non-personality in the slightest. I don’t think it would be clear that she and Monty were “dating” from this episode alone but I’m sure it was supposed to deepen their relationship for the viewer, yet for me it just yet again made it quite obvious that there is nothing here. This is the Emperor’s New Pairing. Why do they like each other? Why do they care about each other? I saw a million shots of Harper looking worried about Monty but that could have been any delinquent at all (except…wait…THEY’RE ALL DEAD WHOOOPS). So I just felt like it was a lot of shallow fuckery that did nothing but remind me of my hatred of this pairing without doing anything alleviate that hatred. (I’m being really incoherent here but my point is I hate Monty/Harper and I’m never going to pass up a chance to say this.)

“Ain’t we a pair?” Hilarious, but if this were fan fiction, I’d say “that’s so OOC Roan would never say that.” AND LOOK IT’S CANON AND I’M GONNA SAY THE SAME THING. ...That’s so OOC Roan would never say that.

Also I never saw anything particularly amazing about L or her leadership and it’s a little ridic that Roan is praising her now but tbh the thing that bugged me the most about that dialogue was the way he was shaming Clarke for caring about her people? I mean it’s all well and good to say you’re “tired of taking sides” (coughBellamycough) but at the end of the day literally everyone would choose their loved ones over randos, let alone their former/current enemies I mean DUH. If you can only save a few people you’ll save yourself and your family. A slightly larger handful, yourself and your community. This is just the human response to a dire situation, not Clarke’s Grand Moral Failing. Also if you think for one second L wouldn’t have chosen her people first and foremost you didn’t watch 2x16 you’re crazy. Also also what is Roan doing right at that moment but planning to kick Clarke’s people out of their own home to save his people like way to be a huge hypocrite you asshat.

The Arkadia plot: By which I mean the Arakadia explosion. Only the destruction of Mt. Weather has saddened me more. I LOVED the Ark. That was (is, in the form of the still living people) my favorite society on this show. And I don’t just like the people I like the whole aesthetic of it and now it’s gone, all gone, and I’m just like…. Was that really necessary? The need to make Nightblood the only true viable solution already exists: only fifty Arkadians saved? Several major characters not on the save list? Please, they didn’t need to do an extended reign of destruction scene to make the other solution more important.

Besides destroying a set I motherfucking loved which I’m not going to lie is my main complaint here, it also just…like we’re almost halfway through the season? This was the midseason finale? And I just feel now like every episode so far has been a giant waste of time? Like literally what have they accomplished: the peace with Azgeda is (was?) broken; a whole episode was wasted on a trip to get a piece of machinery that was destroyed and would have been useless anyway; another episode was wasted on the main characters going on a mission to find a bunker that was useless; the result was that that plot was really the catalyst for the making of the list; which was allegedly destroyed in the next episode anyway and is AGAIN useless now post-explosion; this whole episode with the extended Roan/Clarke negotiation was important for literally .2 seconds, then it becomes...wait for it...useless too--almost everything that’s been done so far is UTTERLY WITHOUT POINT because of the Alpha Station explosion… I mean I know that filler is necessary sometimes. I would say, at a conservative estimate, that 1/3 of 2A was filler. But this just… I have real complaints about the narrative structure of this show; I think it is incredibly sloppy and so many things—little things that build up—make me REALLY question the ability of JRoth/the writers to construct a narrative in even the most basic sense. It’s very, very disorientating and dissatisfying to me.

I never liked Illian and now I’m like…lol bye get outta my face. I should have seen this coming when JRoth (?) said that the killing-his-family scene was included so as not to repeat the Bellamy massacre story line mistake, by making it more clear what the motivations for the character’s bad actions are. But here’s the thing. First, Bellamy is a lead and from the protagonist society so it’s a lot more important that his motivation be clear and viewer sympathies remain with him, than in the Illian situation. It’s not that every character has to be sympathetic. It’s that main characters who the audience is supposed to consistently identify with and root for over time have to behave in understandable ways and maintain sympathy even when they behave badly. (Again—do they not get basic concepts of narration?? A legitimate question because it kinda seems like no.) Second, I will NEVER EVER IN A MILLION YEARS put my sympathy with anyone being antagonistic to the protagonist society. Yet again, a basic middle-school-level English class concept here. If some fucker steps up and destroys the people I care about I’m not going to give a fuck about his sob story. (This is different from morally ambiguous villainous characters like Dante or love-to-hate-them villains.) Third, because I actually know how technology works and I also know the back story of how ALIE got out into society, I know that Illian is just fundamentally, objectively wrong when he says “Skaikru made me kill my family.” Lol nope you’re wrong they didn’t. I understand why you think that but you’re wrong. And on a related note, because the ALIE stuff was so inconsistent and poorly constructed, I’m not super sympathetic to any “this is the consequences of ALIE” story generally because I just want to forget that bullshit entirely. So yeah basically Illian is a villain I don’t need to see him redeemed, I don’t need to see him and O hook up. I don’t give a fuck about him.

Misc. complaints: NO MILLER. NO JAHA. NO JASPER. SAD.

#the year 2017 #2017: fandom thoughts #2017: the 100 s4 #s4 reactions #s4 negativity #i hated this episode basically is what i'm saying in this long post #the 100 spoilers