#it is my corollas safe space

[prolibytherium]

I'll be real I sometimes don't let people merge in front of me if they're being a pussy about it. Like if I brake to give you plenty of space and and keep braking and frantically waving you over to signal that I Am Letting You In and you're still like 'oohhhhhhh hereeeeee i gooooooooooooo... oh no oh no ahh im so scared though? can i merge? im not sure me and my widdle Land Rover Discovery Sport can safely merge in front of this big scary corolla ohhhhhhhhhh oowohoghhhhghggh 🥺' and you just hover around to the point that I have reasonable doubt you're even trying to change lanes and might just be some dumbass who left their signal on, I'm gonna go like Fuck It and return to my previous speed and drive past you and let you figure this one out for your damn self. If this makes me an asshole then I can accept being Gods blight on the earth

#I won't do that if they're probably trying to get to an exit though I'm not THAT mean #Please be a little assertive while driving it actually makes you safer if anything. Making your intentions crystal clear to other #drivers will make people respond accordingly and help you to better gauge if you're being worked with or cut off #Not AGGRESSIVE just assertive

[gucciwins]

one final chance

Harry and Y/N get a reunion no one was expecting…

Word count: 3324

A/N: hi friends! this is the final part to Confessions l and ll. I wrote Confessions l in  January of 2019 when I had been writing for a few months. The second part came August 2020. This last part now in 2022. I honestly read back the first stories and see how my writing has grown for this last part it might be short but it’s a nice conclusion I think. More writing soon promise! 

 ______________________________________

AUGUST 2021

One thing you take pride in is being a safe driver.

Not a single parking ticket and many people think that’s hard in Los Angeles. No crossing red lights, and never pulled over for speeding. Having begged your brother to teach you once he got his license was easy to convince, and that is how you got your license at sixteen. A license and no car. It wasn’t necessary as Thomas still lived at home, but when finally transferring to a university after two years in community college, he went across the country to New York City. Your big surprise was that he left you his white Toyota Corolla that he took care of as if it were his kid; you vowed to do the same. You didn’t change the car until graduating from university because Thomas was embarrassed you still had it, not that it was ugly or mistreated, just that it was old and you needed an upgrade.

He drove you both straight over to the dealer and let you pick out a car at graduation. That was overwhelming, leading to more tears than car choosing. In the end, you picked out a Jeep Wrangler, a sleek white. It was love at first sight. Also, a car you dreamed about forever, thanks to your brother’s hefty salary, he called it a gift, not letting you pay a dime.

Thomas wanted to get you something nicer and pricier, but you insisted he didn’t. As much as you would have loved whatever car you got, it was not something you needed. You liked not blending in with the rest of Los Angeles.

It’s Wednesday, in the middle afternoon, and having left work early meant avoiding rush hour. You decided to stop by for a smoothie at a place that your friend recommended. A bit pricey, but that’s LA for you.

You are coming up on Sunset Blvd and put your blinker for the right, hearing it blink, checking your mirrors and over your shoulder, seeing no car about to pull into an empty parking spot next to a meter when an easy parking space to slip right in. No need to parallel park today. As you were straightening out the car, when you feel a car slam into you from behind, you’re quick to hit the brakes.

You sit back in the seat, trying to get your breathing under control because a car just hit you.

Another car hit you.

You were just in an accident.

You look over your shoulder seeing the man sitting in his car, shocked. You try to get your focus and park your car quickly, needing to get out and check yourself over and see the damage to your vehicle. You hop out, trying to steady yourself.

You don’t even realize when the car that hits you pulls in to park behind you at a reasonable distance. You pull your phone out of your cardigan pocket, needing to call someone to talk you down, but your hands shake too much. Instead, you settle with leaning your head against the side of your car and focusing on your breathing, counting to thirty. You do that until you feel your hands stop shaking.

The man is getting out of his car, phone already held up to his ear, probably his insurance company. It’s a classic Mercedes Benz; no doubt your insurance will skyrocket, somehow getting blamed for the accident. That is how most cases in Los Angeles go. It might be really time to leave the city now.

“Alright, I’ll update you later.” The man hangs up as you stand there looking at your car.

Getting yourself together, you’re now able to take a look at the back of your car. The damage isn’t as bad as you thought it was. Maybe it was just the initial hit that scared you so much. The left tail light was broken, and there were scratch marks. The paint has peeled off. Easy fix, thankfully.

“I’m so sorry.” The man addresses you finally, shoving his phone in his pocket. You tense up hearing his accent. You’re ashamed to say you do it with every British person you come across.

It used to fill you with dread, but it left you disappointed over time because it was never the person you wanted it to be.

You look away from your car only to lock eyes with a person you have only ever seen in your dreams since that goodbye at your last dinner together.

“Harry,” you breathe out. He’s dressed in black shorts and a Columbia sweater. His hair is full of messy curls pushed back by his sunglasses.

Harry looks just surprised to see you. He scans you head to toe, making sure it’s you and seeing if you’re alright.

“You-I-I can’t believe it’s you,” he breathes out. He doesn’t move his eyes from you as if you might disappear.

You nod, agreeing because what are the chances. You expected to see him at a concert, a mutual friend’s party, or even out at dinner, but never believed it would be like this from Harry hitting your car.

“Are you okay?” You ask, making sure he’s not injured.

“Am I okay?” He repeats, “I hit your car.”

“I’m fine,” you assure him, “a bit shaken up but very much okay.”

“That’s great.” You see him relax just a bit, “I’m okay as well.”

You nod, falling silent.

“I’m sorry, I saw you put your turn signal, but I was going a bit fast and thought I would make it past, but that was not the case. I’ll need your insurance, but I’ll make sure it’s all covered, I promise. It was 100% my fault.” Harry expresses wanting to get the issue resolved.

“Thank you, it’s best we trade info just so we can give both insurances the proper information.” You answer professionally.

“Of course.” Harry opens the driver's side, leans in to pull out a notebook, and rips out a paper, handing you a pen to write your number. You scribble it down, making sure it’s all eligible, and give it to him. He hands you a sheet of paper with his number and his insurance below.

You think this is goodbye, it feels like it, but you can’t bring yourself to do anything about it. “It was great to see you, but I wish it was under different circumstances.”

“I agree,” he smiles.

You run a hand through your hair, turning away from him. If you leave now, this could very well be the last time you see him.

You say screw it.

“You want to grab a smoothie with me?” You point to the building behind you. “It’d be nice to talk.”

Harry is shocked, you can tell, but there is a glimmer of excitement in his green eyes. “I’d really love that.”

“Great. Let me grab my bag.” You open the passenger door before locking it and meeting him at the door.

You go up to the register and take a long look at the menu before deciding and ordering an apple and ginger smoothie; Harry picks mango. He doesn’t fight you on paying, something you’re grateful for.

You take a seat across from each other, silent until your drinks are called, and Harry goes to retrieve them for you both.  

“What are you up to in LA?” You ask.

“Tour preparations. We start in a week.” He shares.

You almost spit your smoothie out. “Shut up, no way.”

Harry tries to hide his disappointment at you not knowing about the tour. “Yeah, it’s Love on Tour. The first show in Vegas…” he trails off.  

You can’t hold it anymore and burst out laughing. “I wish I could have recorded that. You looked so sad thinking I didn’t know, as if Sarah hasn’t told me all about it.”

“You’re mean. You made my heart drop.” Harry says, letting out a deep breath he was holding.

“You have to admit it was good.”

He grumbles whatever.

“Excited for it?”

“Buzzing to be out on the road. Everyone has worked so hard,” he raises his ringed hand to brush through his curls. “I’m proud and ready to share with the fans.”

“Right, I heard you got new bandmates. From what Sarah and Mitch have said, you’re in for a hell of a tour with them.”

Harry blushes, loving the validation thrown his way.

He’s missed you like crazy; he hasn’t dated since you. He knew you’d forever be the one that got away. He hoped you’d walk back into his life, and he was right.

“You should come to our soundcheck tomorrow. I’m sure Sarah would love having you.” He scratches his neck. He’s being very fidgety, a tale sign he’s nervous. “I would as well.”

“I’d love that,” you tell him softly. “You’ll send the address?”

“Yes, three pm” He pulls out his phone, shooting you a text with all the information. “You’re more than welcome to come earlier to hang out and get the feel.”

“I’ll let you know. I need to figure out if I want to drive or get a ride. Have got to fix my car. Driving with a broken taillight will only lead me to being pulled over.”

“I could have Jeff or Tommy pick you up and then drive you home. If you’re okay with that,” he offers.

You smile, “that sounds really nice. Thank you.”

You chat for over two hours in the smoothie place, and before saying goodbye, you confirm Friday.

“I’d call it a date, but it’d be you watching me perform rather than us talking.”

You step into his arms, giving him a hug, happy over the lovely afternoon together. You lean up to kiss his cheek as you pull away.

“I say let’s call it a date, seeing as you’ll be driving me home. Then you can walk me to my door just how first dates should end.”

Harry blushes. “It’s a date.

~~~~~~

The day of the soundcheck. You have changed your outfit three times.

You finally decide on a white loose tank top, pink corduroy pants, and your favorite worn-out Doc Martens that you swear to elevate each of your outfits. You keep your makeup minimal, knowing it is an informal practice.

The car comes to pick you up at three, and it’s Tommy. You had the pleasure of meeting once, but now is the chance to speak more. The conversation jumps from how long you lived in the area and how grateful he is to work with Harry. You tell him you’re old friends with Harry.

Arriving, Tommy brings you through the back entrance, where you spot Sarah. She screams as soon as she sees you.

“You saw me a few days ago.”

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t miss you.”

“How’s bub? I want some cuddles.”

“Sleeping now. Excited to see his favorite auntie when he wakes up.”

She promises to make time for you before you move.

“Y/N?”

You turn around to find Mitch with a sleeping baby strapped to his chest. It’s not a new sight, but it always makes you smile. He’s such a fantastic father.

“Does H know you’re here?” Mitch asked, shocked to see you.

“I texted him that I was with Sarah.” You tell him casually, “Tommy must have let him know.”

Mitch nods. “He’s two doors down if you want to go find him.”

You look panicked. “Should I?”

They nod yes.

“Alright.”

And off you go.

You don’t know your way around their practice space, so you end up at the wrong place as you took a right out of the room you were originally in and not left. You see a woman shutting the door as you finally make it in the right direction. The woman had dark hair and a tan completion from her time in the sun. As she turns in your direction, you recognize her as Harry’s mother, and she’s smiling at you.

“Hi,” you greet. “You’re Harry’s mother, right, Anne.”

She nods proudly, “that’s me.”

Anne keeps her eyes on you before an ever bigger smile sets on her face. “You must be her, the girl he always talks about. I’m sad we’re only just meeting.”

“I’m sorry we never met sooner.” Life happened, but you’re glad for the chance now.

“Nonsense, dear, no apology.” She waves you off, “this boy gets into so much trouble on his own.”

“That he does.” You laugh together.

“Do you want to go in and see him? He’s free.” You’re not sure what to say before you can decide; the door swings open.

“Mum-” He cuts himself off, seeing you standing next to his mother. “Are you two ladies gossiping about me?” He teases.

“Well, of course not. You don’t need your ego-inflating H.” You respond without thinking, surprising yourself and Harry. Anne just looks at you, amused.

“I like her, dear.” She tells Harry. “Now, Y/N, you come to find me, and we can watch them rehearse together right by the sound booth. How does that sound?”

“Perfect, thank you.”

She squeezes your shoulder and then walks away quickly, finding someone new to chat with.

“You just met my mum.” Harry states.

“That I did.”

“Now, you just need Gem.” You nod, not sure where he’s going with this. “How about October? I’ve got a few shows in New York if you’re free.”

“A little presumptuous, don’t ya think?” Your face is neutral, but you’re trying your hardest to stop a smile from surfacing.

“Maybe so, but don’t think I want to go so long without seeing you.”

You admire his honesty.

Together you bask in the silence and decide that you do want that. You do want to meet his sister. He always told you stories of how he looked up to her. You want to meet the equally amazing sister that Anne raised.

“Alright, I accept.”

“You do?” Harry sounds surprised.

“Yeah, I-I also want to spend time with you,” you confess.

“First date, moving a little fast, aren’t you,” he teases.

“Keep it up, and no kiss goodnight for you.”

Harry puts his arms up in defense. He opens his door gesturing for you to come in and hang out. It’s full of his stuff as if he’d been there all week, clothes on the floor. Gucci pillows on the couch, his outfit hanging on the back of the door.

“You look beautiful, don’t think I had a chance to say it.”

“Thank you,” you do a little twirl. “I love these pants. They make my butt look nice.”

Harry looks down, focused on your ass as you do a spin, “I agree.”

“Harry!’

“Not my fault. You were asking for me to look, baby.”

You blush and step close to him, toying with the hem of his sweater. “Baby, huh.”

Harry blushes at your touch and at the term of endearment. “Can I call you baby, or is that moving too fast?”

“I quite like it.” Your gaze fixated on the pearls on his neck. “You look pretty in pearls; it feels very you.”

“Thank you, I quite like it as well. Lambert got them for me as a gift for finishing the album. These are real now. Went around wearing fakes for the longest until Lambert found these.”

“Might be one of his best finds.”

You step away from Harry and go sit on the couch. You don’t hide your smile when he joins you/  You’re on a high it feels surreal being here with him after so long. You focus your gaze on the lettering of his sweater, “I’m gonna die lonely,” an adorable panda in the middle.

“We haven’t discussed the elephant in the room,” you decide to bring up.

Harry reaches for your hand and begins to play with your fingers before slotting them together and resting them on his lap. “I know.”

“It was over a year since we last met at the diner.” Harry nods because he knows he’s been counting the days, not that he’d mention that. “I don’t- I think after a few months, I wondered why I pushed you away if I was now left with missing you like crazy.”

“It was hard, gosh. I started therapy again even though I officially moved back to London. LA isn’t home anymore. I think I didn’t like who I had become here and being home brought me back to who I was and the person I knew I could be.”

You nod while listening intently. “Proud of you.”

Harry blushes at your words but decides enough about him, “What did you do in the year?”

“I started working with UNICEF, and it’s been amazing. I started in New York for about a month before being moved to LA, and well, they needed someone in London, so I jumped at the chance.”

“That’s amazing. I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you. I love it. It’s- it’s good being able to do what I love,” you share with him.

“You feel good about yourself?”

“I do. Do you?”

He pinches his bottom lip with his free hand before nodding, “I do, yeah.”

“How do you feel about us?”

“Honestly.” You nod. “It feels like everything is falling into place. Like it’s our time to take care of each other together.”

“I agree. I feel this pull to you that is telling me. I’ve pushed you back together. Now it’s your turn to make it work.”

“I’m assuming you’re serious about this with the London move.”

You nod. “Very serious. I’m all in.”

You’re not shocked at how quick and assured that came out of you. You feel it this time that you’ve both grown.

“I am too, baby. I’m all in with you.”

You stare at each other, beginning to lean in when the door flies open. It’s Jeff.

“You are needed,” Jeff says, then spots you sitting next to Harry. “Oh, Y/N. It’s great to see you. I’m glad his terrible driving did not leave you injured.”

“Jeffrey, that’s enough.”

“Drama queen, hope you can fix that.” You laugh as Harry throws a pillow at Jeff. Harry kissed your cheek. “I’ll give you a moment,” Jeff told you, noticing the apparent tension.

You stand up and look at Harry, who has followed you, now only standing a step away from you as you lean against his vanity.

“I’m proud of you, I may not have been around to see you write this album, but it’s beautiful and 100% your heart that you put out for the world to see. It might not even mean a lot coming from me, but I wanted you to hear it.”

“Hey,” he closes the gap, his hands resting on the side of your face, “It means everything coming from you. Thank you, baby.” He kisses the top of your head.

Harry pulls away, but you pull him back and look in his eyes to see if he’ll stop you, but all you see is love reflected in his eyes. You connect your lips with Harry’s, and it’s everything. You feel the butterflies settle in your stomach as he deepens the kiss. You’re safe and cared for.

Your feelings for Harry are strong, and you know things will be different.

You know now that you’ll get to love him, and he will get to love you.

Life’s journey together is just beginning.

“Good luck, kiss,” you tell him.

He looks dazed. “Just rehearsal,” he breathes out.

“Good luck can be used for anything.”

“Enough to let me go home with you.”

“If you braid my hair and buy me takeout.”

“As you wish.”

Harry gives you one last bruising kiss before walking out, head held high and heart left in your arms, the safest place it can be.

_____________

Thank you for reading <3 feedback is welcomed and appreciated 

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles stories #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry writing #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles love on tour #harry styles pleasing #daylight #daydreaming #harry's house #fine line #pleasing

[ejzah]

In Miss Blye’s Class, Part 7

***

Just to be safe, Deeks arrived at the cafe Kensi specified early, not wanting to risk running late. He was certain she wouldn’t give him a second chance no matter the excuse.

The Cats and Cradles cafe was sandwiched between a small bookstore and a subway. Since the parking lot was pretty busy, he chose a space spot almost at the end, area which had a good view of the entrance.

So much for exerting self-control, Deeks thought wryly. All it had taken was seeing her smile again, and a few well-placed, blunt words, and he’d caved. Though if he was being honest with himself, he hadn’t tried all that hard to resist.

“Daddy, what are we doing?” Caleb asked, stretching his neck to get a better look out the window. He’d clambered out of his car seat to the front and emptied half the content of his backpack onto his lap soon after the they arrived. After hobbling around with an ice pack on his ankle for a few hours last night, he’d made a stunning and miraculous recovery. Deeks was glad he was alright, but once again amazed at his dramatics.

“We’re getting coffee,” Deeks answered, pausing for a second before adding. “With Miss Blye.”

“Why?”

“Because we have something to talk about.” Caleb frowned at Deeks’ response, tilting his head to the side. He fiddled with a fuzzy keychain for a moment.

“Are you going on a date?”

Deeks has expected as much from Caleb, ever curious and rarely subtle, so he had an answer ready.

“No,” he said firmly. “We’re just going to have coffee. Like friends do sometimes.”

“Oh. Can I get hot chocolate?” Caleb requested. Pushing off his seat, he wriggled onto Deeks. Caleb twisted his fingers in Deeks’ hair in a longstanding gesture of comfort and affection.

“Yes, you can have hot chocolate. But not a large cause last time you were up half the night,” Deeks told him, glancing in the rear view mirror to watch for Kensi.

“Ok.” Caleb kissed him on the cheek and slid back to his own seat. He played with a couple toys he’d managed fa sneak into his backpack. A miniature Captain America and Black Widow scaled his seat belt with accompanying superhero noises.

Shaking his head, Deeks grabbed his phone to check his work email. He’d be working late again tonight to make up for the last couple days. Oddly enough, the thought didn’t bother him as much as it normally did.

“Jenny and Isaiah in my class went on a date for ice cream last week,”. Caleb offered unexpectedly a couple minutes later. Deeks raised an eyebrow as he turned to Caleb. He was now arranging the action figures on the back of his seat. “Cause she’s his girlfriend.”

“Sounds very romantic,” Deeks said neutrally.

“Uh-huh. Isaiah got Jenny a stuffed bear with a heart on it. I know cause she brought it to show to everyone at lunch. Even though Isaiah got sick on the ride home.”

Caleb gave him a look that suggested he’d just made a relevant point and Deeks nodded.

“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to take away from that, but good story. Sounds like Jenny’s a keeper.”

A black Corolla pull in two spaces down, and Deeks straightened as he recognized Kensi’s profile through the driver’s side window. His stomach clenched slightly with nervousness he hadn’t felt since he was in high school.

“There she is. Hey, buddy, I might call Miss Blye “Kensi” some of the time, but you can’t call her that, especially not at school, ok?”

“Ok, but why do you get to call her that?”

“Well, she’s your teacher and sometimes we have different rules for different places, you know.”

“You mean like how I’m not allowed to run in the hallways at your office when your boss is there?” Caleb asked as he quickly shoved everything back in his backpack.

Kensi was already waiting for them, leaning against the hood of her car. Caleb slipped the straps on his back as Deeks climbed out and hurried around the front to help him out.

“Hi Miss Blye,” Caleb called loudly, waving like he hadn’t just seen her less than two hours ago. He automatically took Deeks’ hand, as he always did in public.

“Hey Caleb. I wasn’t sure you’d actually show up,” Kensi commented, addressing the last part to Deeks as she crossed over to them. Deeks chuckled, dipping his head.

His stomach swooped again at the sight of her. She wore a red, knee-length dress that brought out the warm color of her skin and emphasized her long legs.

“I guess I deserved that,” he agreed. “I wouldn’t be that mistake twice though.”

“Good.” Offering him a cheerful, if slightly sarcastic smile. When she reached down, Caleb readily slipped his other hand into hers, and together they walked to the cafe.

Inside, there was a pleasant buzz of activity without being overwhelming. The front of the cafe was bright and airy thanks to the floor to ceiling windows which made up the front wall while the back half was darker. Low tables and armchairs creates a cozy atmosphere. There were also several shelves with books and games. Caleb immediately dropped Deeks’ hand and wandered over to examine a half-finished puzzle on one of the tables.

“That’s why I suggested we come here,” Kensi said, drawing Deeks’ attention back to her. “I figured it might be easier to talk if Caleb was entertained and didn’t overhear everything we say.”

“Thanks. I know it’s not ideal, but he’s kind of my favorite sidekick.” He paused, hesitating slightly. Even though Kensi was great with Caleb, he knew how exhausting it could be to spend time around other people’s kids. “I have to leave him with Marissa, his babysitter, enough as it is.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Deeks. I admire your relationship. I wish more parents cared about their kids the way you do with Caleb.”

“He’s my whole world,” Deeks admitted. “In case you couldn’t tell.”

“I had no idea,” Kensi teased. She lifted her chin towards the line which was 3 people deep at the moment. “C’mon, we should order before the after school crowd gets here.”

In a few minutes the barista handed over a large iced coffee, a medium vanilla latte, and a small hot chocolate with a blueberry bagel. Deeks brought over the last two to Caleb, who acknowledged him with a brief glance, currently consumed with a set of Lincoln Logs. When he turned around Kensi had chosen a nearby table.

“You know, when Monica and I were dating and first got married, all she talked about was being a mom. She wanted three or four kids,” Deeks started, sitting down across from Kensi.

“Oh, Deeks, you don’t have to tell me any of this,” Kensi said quickly and when he glanced at her, she wore a look of mild discomfort. “I didn’t ask you to meet me here to guilt more information out of you. I meant what I said before.”

“I know,” Deeks assured her. With just a few words, she’d managed to raise his estimation of her even higher. “But, I promised to make my…egregious behavior up, and part of that, I think, has to include explaining more about my past. Not as an excuse, but just to let you in on why I am the way I am.”

Kensi hesitated, using her index finger to draw a circle through the trail of water left behind from her coffee.

“That sounds like a pretty serious talk to have over an iced vanilla latte.” Deeks could tell she was trying to lighten the situation, but he heard the slight dismay in her voice.

“It is. But once you know everything, then you can decide if you want to be friends.”

“Ok, then I’m listening.”

Deeks heaved a sigh, checking in on one more time Caleb before continuing. Even though he’d initiated this conversation, he wasn’t exactly looking forward to telling the details he left out last time. “We met in college, dated for three years, got engaged and married—by most people’s standards—pretty young. Everything was…idyllic for the first year or so,” Deeks recalled. He glanced slightly above Kensi’s head, vision blurring as he remembered how happy they were at first. The plans they’d made in giddy whispers while they laid in bed.

“What happened after that first year?” Kensi asked softly, like she was afraid of startling him.

“I honestly don’t know for sure. Like I said, Monica always talked about having a big family and I wanted that too. She got pregnant about 8 months after we were married, and,” he chuckled to himself. “We were beyond happy. We made lists of names, Monica would come home from the store with a new outfit for the baby every other day. It seemed perfect.

“And everything was great after Caleb was born too. At least for a little while. Then somewhere along the way, I realized something was different. Monica tried to pretend, but I could tell she wasn’t as happy. I’d come home, and we’d barely talk or she’d find some reason to stay home from family outings.”

Deeks twisted his cup between his hands, feeling guilty all over again even though he wasn’t sure what he could have done differently.

“It sounds like maybe she was having some postpartum symptoms.”

“I thought so too,” Deeks said in answer to Kensi’s comment. “But she told me that she was fine, and the doctor agreed.” He shrugged. “I thought maybe she needed to get out of the house more or do something that felt like her own. We talked about her going back to school and me cutting my hours so I could stay home more. I was willing to do just about anything to see her smile again, really smile. She insisted she wanted to stay home with Caleb.” Outside of yoga, he thought with dark humor.

“When Caleb turned three, I thought things were finally getting better. Monica seemed freer, happier again. Turns out I read the signs wrong because it was just a couple weeks later that she left.”

“I know I said this before, but I am so sorry, Deeks,” Kensi told him.

“Thanks.” Rubbing his hand over his jaw, Deeks shifted uncomfortably. “I searched for her, you know. I didn’t go so far as to hire a private detective or anything, cause that just seemed creepy and like the plot of a bad 80s movie, but uh, I searched. And I asked all her friends, family, if they knew anything. I was worried, I was sad. For months. And then, just when were starting to get a handle on things and readjusting to our new life, Monica showed up on our doorstep out of the blue.”

“What did she say?” Deeks laughed wryly at Kensi’s question.

“That I looked good and she was sorry. I know, it’s pretty cliche. I didn’t care though. Stupidly, I thought she was back for good. I begged her to stay, and, uh, she said no. She said that she’d always thought she wanted to be married with kids, but once it happened, she realized she was wrong. Tried to stick it out as long as she could. Eventually gave up.”

He remembered his confusion, quickly replaced by joy and relief, and finally anger. Kensi waited, giving him time to process the memories and his thoughts.

“Monica stayed a few weeks that time before disappearing again without any warning. It was nearly a year before she showed up again and I decided to file for divorce. I didn’t want to run the risk of her taking Caleb and never seeing either of them again. I know, that’s a terrible thing to suspect someone capable of, but I truly didn’t know her anymore.”

“I don’t think it’s selfish,” Kensi disagreed. “Given the circumstances, it sounds like you had Caleb’s best interest in mind.”

She made it sound noble, not knowing that there’d still been a part of him that was hurt and angry when he helped draw up his own divorce papers. “Mm, that’s what I told myself,” Deeks sighed. “I’ve always wondered why she wasn’t just honest with me. Would it have devastated me, absolutely. But if she’d just said that she needed space or wanted a divorce, it could have been so different.”

“Maybe she thought it would be easier that way. I think you’re a pretty convincing man, Marty Deeks.” He looked up sharply at that and Kensi quickly added, “In a good way. I’m guessing Monica wanted to avoid all that and just make a clean break.” She shrugged. “I know that’s probably little consolation.” She seemed worried that she’d overstepped some invisible boundary while they openly discussed his failed marriage.

“No, no that’s a really good point,” Deeks said, assuring her that he wasn’t offended with a quick smile. “If only I had you around to knock some sense into me back then.” Unexpectedly, Kensi dipped her head, suddenly almost shy.

“If only.” Her eyes flicked up for a moment and Deeks felt a rising tension that had nothing to do with the current topic. It lasted for several long moments before he abruptly looked away, clearing his throat loudly.

“Um, anyway, Monica has visited once since she granted me full custody. So, I suppose you could say that’s when my trust issues started.”

“And the reason you’re bad at relationships,” Kensi surmised.

“Pretty much. Plus, between figuring out how to be a single parent, moving, and starting a new job, it’s surprisingly difficult to form bonds. It’s been the two of us for so long that sometimes I’m not sure how to let another person in.”

“It sounds to me like you’re afraid of getting hurt again.”

And there was the bluntness again. God, she was amazing. Taking a sip of her coffee, now mostly melted, she studied him for a moment, her gaze direct and observant. Whatever hesitation, or shyness from a moment ago, was long gone.

After nearly a half-minute, by which point Deeks started feeling just a little uncomfortable, her expression shifted with some unknown decision. Deeks tensed, suddenly anxious for her response. As much as he had convinced himself that distance was for the best, he wasn’t ready for this to be the last time they saw each other.

In a businesslike manner, she pulled a sticky note and pen from her bag, and wrote something he couldn’t quite see. Peeling it off the table, she offered it to him until he took it with a raised eyebrow

“That’s my cell,” she explained. “Contrary to what you might believe, your story hasn’t scared me off. Is it messy? For sure, but I don’t think that should stand in the way of us becoming friends.”

“I’d like that,” Deeks said quietly, tucking the paper into his pocket as he gazed into her warm, brown eyes again.

***

A/N: Well, this took longer than I intended and also turned out longer than expected.

#ncis la fanfiction #marty deeks #kensi blye #dad deeks #lawyer Deeks #teacher Kensi #in Miss Blye’s Class #Part 7 #au #yup still self-indulgent #ejzah fanfiction

[cavity-core]

Satisfying Salad

Chapter Six

I post a lot of different stuff that is totally consumable for minors, but this space is not intended for minors, so if you fall in that category, please navigate it responsibly and respectfully... on that note.. keep scrolling to the next post kids. ^ ^

Despite the tag, this is not Kaebedo, I’m shipping Kaeya with the Fellflower because I’m an absolute psychopath... I call it crack but it’s my otp idk what’s wrong with me, cryo sugoi.

It is still updating but you can read the full fic here.

Forgot I was posting this on Tumblr but I just uploaded a new chapter (9… aka 10) so now I remembered!

Last night had been hectic and disorienting for Subject Three. He remembered passing out on Kaeya’s bed, nestled against the thick duvet, but he’d woken up in a bush. As tempting as it had been to burrow into the ground right there for a nap, there was no way he could do that! His master sent him to take Albedo’s place in Mondstadt, and even if he’d messed up a little he couldn’t just go back to Dragonspine already.

Walking on his stupid human legs was so slow, but luckily he wasn’t in Mondstadt and he wasn’t under cover, so he was free to burrow into the ground and dig his way back to the city. Being able to take root and expel the alcohol from his body, as well as just being able to feel the dirt all around him made him feel infinitely better, he was ready to take this mission on again with gusto!

The only problem was… he didn’t have his clothes. As far as he knew, they were still with Kaeya. Captain Kaeya… he definitely wanted to see him again— oh, but he knew of Subject Three’s real identity. He helped hide it from the alchemy bench man though, so maybe it didn’t bother him! Subject Three could be just as good as any dumb human or homonculus!

Getting into the actual city without his human disguise was much harder, but he was well equipped to take on the challenge. Although the average WhopperFlower lacked the ability to change much beyond its corolla while its body remained hidden beneath the ground, his master’s alchemic intervention had done more than alter his appearance to that of a human, but rather it had made his entire body more malleable to disguises so to speak. Not only did it allow him to mimic with his entire body but he was not limited by size… within reason anyway; the greater the difference in size, the more taxing it was on his body, as he had so aptly shown last night while drunk.

Smaller was easier than bigger, but everything took practice. The crystal flies that had been drifting around him when he’d awoken served as excellent inspiration to float gently over the bridge and up, up over the wall, never arousing any suspicion as such a harmless creature. It was convenient both as a means of getting inside but also as a means of taking in his surroundings.

Maybe it was because subconsciously he was already looking for him, but as Subject Three fluttered over the red coloured rooves toward the square, he picked out Kaeya stumbling away from the Angel’s Share. His first thought was that perhaps he had gotten injured somehow, after all Subject Three had also woken up sore and disheveled, but it was also possible that Kaeya was affected by the same kind of drink as everyone else in the tavern. Either way, he needed to get back inside the apartment to retrieve his clothes in order to continue his mission.

Remaining safely up in the air, far above Kaeya’s head, he followed him right back to his building again. Unfortunately, there was no way he’d make it down in time to follow him through the door now, so his only other option was to search for an open window. Circling the building was proving to be a fruitless endeavour until a pair of shutters suddenly flew open, and low and behold it was Kaeya’s room on the other side. Frankly, Subject Three was a prodigy, his master clearly couldn’t have chosen a WhopperFlower more geniusly gifted in the art of infiltration.

He only had to perch on the flower box for a couple of minutes before Kaeya had shucked off a few layers and collapsed onto the bed… which was actually a problem, Subject Three noted as he entered the room and resumed his usual form, because his clothes were on the bed… under Kaeya. Retrieving them was out of the question, Kaeya was too heavy to pull them out from without waking him… Subject Three knew this for sure because he had already tried, resulting only in the whopper skittering under the bed when Kaeya groaned and shifted.

This wasn’t about to stop him though, he had already devised another, equally brilliant plan: There was a large, potted plant on the floor near the bedroom door, inside it was a big plant with fanning leaves. Easy. He slunk out from beneath the bed frame and reached up with his leafy appendages to take hold of it by the base and rip it free. It took much of the dirt with it so he did his best to shake most of it back into the pot before hopping back to the window and chucking it out.

Phase one had been executed perfectly. The real plant was gone and Kaeya was still fast asleep! Now was the easy part, hopping into the pot and nestling himself into the soil to take the form of the evicted plant and wait. Once Kaeya woke up and left the building, he could hop back out, grab his clothes and… … he.. didn’t think any farther ahead than that. This soil was very comfortable though and the size of the pot was actually pretty cozy, before long Subject Three had dozed off as well.

It might have been better for his initial plan if all the ruckus of Kaeya waking up in the morning hadn’t roused him and he’d remained quiet when he was called out. Unfortunately, it turned out that Subject Three had not been thorough enough with his disposal of the other plant. The floor was dirty and the plant was right there outside the window, all Kaeya had to do was look down! Foolish mistake after foolish mistake were what got him caught the first time, and this time was no different it seemed. Should he take his punishment and just return to his master in Dragonspine after all, accepting his failure?

Kaeya’s reaction didn’t seem aggressive though, he didn’t sound angry… he sounded more or less the same as usual. Maybe he really wasn’t that bothered about Subject Three’s identity, maybe Subject Three had already gone above and beyond and found an ally. Ignoring Kaeya’s objections, he dropped his disguise, wriggled free of the potting soil, and hopped out of the pot, nuzzling up to his leg with a soft squeak. Even without the drink from last night, he was still getting that weird feeling of wanting to be physically close to the human.

The feeling of Kaeya’s hands on him again made his skin prickle… but in a good way, making Subject Three squirm a little in his grasp. Kaeya also said he was allowed to continue his mission! Even though Kaeya didn’t think his master would be coming back… but that was the next step.. so he had to.

“Let’s clean you off then,” Kaeya sighed, carrying him towards a different room of the apartment.

As a mimic, Subject Three was sensitive to minute changes in demeanour and something about Kaeya seemed softer today. Both his tone and his motions as he cleaned and watered Subject Three, adjusting the temperature to his preference and drying him off in a plush blanket that smelled like Kaeya. Obviously he couldn’t burrow into it, but he could try.

When they were done, he was placed on the bed with his discarded clothes from last night while Kaeya cleaned up the floor then left, albeit awkwardly, to clean himself off next. Unfortunately, Subject Three still didn’t know how to put on any of these clothes. He did resume his mimicked form of Subject One and kind of picked up some of the garments, but he didn’t even want to wear all these stupid clothes again! He hated every single piece and still remained at a loss on how to wear any of them right up until Kaeya reappeared… in nothing but the towel Subject Three had dried off in.

Even last night Kaeya hadn’t fully undressed. He had never seen Kaeya fully naked, he noted, staring down at the towel while he was interrogated about his undressed state. How strange that he wanted to see… Subject Three watched intently as Kaeya moved about the room collecting his clothes, but to the whopper’s dismay he disappeared briefly into the bathroom before returning again, clothed.

Again, Kaeya was gentle, despite some frustration creeping into his tone when Subject Three voiced his disdain. In the end, Kaeya pulled every layer back onto him and he was once again stuck in Albedo’s stupid, stifling cloth prison of sensory despair. On the bright side, he was heading back to his mission despite his short comings, alongside Kaeya… but… no matter how close he walked to the knight, Kaeya never put his hand on him again the whole way there. Last night Subject Three had been tense to his touches, but today he was starved for them.

The walk this time was made in silence, only interrupted when brief greetings had to be exchanged with the humans milling about their morning business. Kaeya’s pace was brisk, challenging for Subject Three to match on his shorter legs and leaving him a little out of breath by the time they reached the Knights of Favonius headquarters. Learning to walk in this body was hard enough, but keeping up with Kaeya really put his skills to work.

When the two arrived inside, there were already people in the main hall. One of them was the blonde woman from yesterday, the other was a woman who Subject Three hadn’t seen before. She was also tall, and looked even taller with her big purple hat. He was sure thankful he didn’t have have to wear a hat. They both turned as the doors opened. “Ah, there he is,” the unfamiliar woman said, folding her arms. “You see? You worry far too much.”

“Were you looking for us?” Kaeya asked putting a hand on his hip. “I was running a bit late this morning, I certainly didn’t mean to make the Acting Grand Master worried on my behalf.~”

“Albedo” nodded. “Sorry, we were busy,” he agreed. He could also help Kaeya cover up why they were late!

The woman in the big hat raised her eyes brows, lifting a hand to not so subtly hide her smile. “Ohhh.”

Kaeya turned to Subject Three with a slightly tight smile. “Why don’t you head to your lab now?”

“Albedo” nodded obediently and scurried up to his office to… probably hide for the rest of the day, or so he’d planned anyway.

After pacing around the room, pulling the books off the shelf, opening them, failing to make sense of the scribbles and dropping them on the floor, staring out the window, sitting at the desk, sitting on the floor, staring out the window while sitting at the desk, and poking at some of the more dangerous looking items in the room for a while, he was starting to get antsy. Staying cooped up in this room just didn’t work for him. For the most part, whatever his master had done to better placate him had accomplished its purpose quite well, although he had some adverse reactions to certain parts of coexisting with humans, he didn’t feel such a strong urge to lash out and was generally level headed enough to reason… but spending time in this room felt like it was just undoing it all.

In the end, Subject Three decided it would be best for him to do as his master instructed and take a walk out to the alchemy bench; and so, leaving the office much messier than he’d found it, he headed down the stairs and back out the doors, walking along the stone roads towards the square. As expected, standing at the alchemy bench was the plain looking man.

For a while Subject Three just stood near the railing overlooking the square, as he pondered whether the office had left him in an appropriate mental state to handle whatever conversation he’d be dragged into if he approached the bench. Still… could he really just loiter around up here? Aside from looking suspicious, he’d probably be noticed sooner or later anyway if he continued to just stand around like this. Eventually, Subject Three made the executive decision to bite the proverbial bullet and make his way around to the stairs.

Mr. Alchemy Bench hadn’t noticed him yet when he’d first descended near the building across from him, the one that smelled of food, busy talking to a lady human who was also standing at the bench. They were the least of what held Subject Three’s attention now though as walking up from the entrance were a trio of familiar faces; his master had returned! Strangely though… the one he was accompanied by was Subject One, Albedo, and he was no longer donning the appearance of the Chief Alchemist himself. Presently, he was a tall man with brown hair, long enough to be pulled back in a short pony tail; it made no difference of course, Subject Three could recognize his master right away— and that child! That was the little human he took before!

How strange, as far as Subject Three knew, this wasn’t exactly how his master had described the next stage of their plan playing out. Well, he would just have to ask him! The breath he drew to call out was cut short though when he was suddenly grabbed, one hand over his mouth and the other around his waist, yanking him back around the side of the building and out of sight- and no doubt getting a nasty ice burn in the process. After a pained hiss following Subject Three’s adverse cryo reaction to being grabbed so suddenly came Kaeya’s voice in a low whisper. “Easy now… come with me.”

Obviously Subject Three struggled, his master was back which meant their plan was supposed to move forward to the next stage… whatever that was. He needed to tell him how he’d done as he was told, without even attacking anyone!

“If you rush in now you’ll only get yourself caught… maybe even killed,~” Kaeya pointed out. “It would certainly look strange if there were suddenly two Albedos in the square, wouldn’t it?”

Subject Three finally relaxed a little in Kaeya’s hold, causing the grip on him to slacken slightly in turn. He raise a hand to pull Kaeya’s off his face. “But my master is back,” he explained.

“Your master,” Kaeya reiterated, arching a brow down at him as he tugged him further behind the building lest the trio spot them on their way to the stairs. “Do you mean to tell me that Albedo is a fake as well?”

The mimic frowned a little, shaking his head and fully turning to Kaeya now that the grip on him was loose enough. It was probably only to ensure he didn’t try to run off, but Subject Three revelled in the continued contact of Kaeya’s hand on his waist nonetheless. “That isn’t my master, the tall man with them is.”

Kaeya seemed surprised, granted Subject Three was surprised to see his master looking that way as well. “Isn’t that Joel’s father?”

“Who’s Joel?”

“The young boy with them-… his father went missing on Dragonspine while looking for the summit, he was presumed dead,” Kaeya explained.

“I don’t know about that,” Subject Three replied. “I just know that’s my master, and that’s the little human I got in trouble for taking.”

Kaeya frowned pensively. “Albedo is back and your master has a new identity, doesn’t that mean you’ve been discarded?”

Did it mean that? Just because his master chose a new approach didn’t mean there was no more plan though! “I still have to talk to him,” Subject Three stated firmly.

“Not like this,” Kaeya said even more firmly.. successfully overruling Subject Three unfortunately. “If you’d really like to speak with that man, I can facilitate a meeting between the two of you in private.~”

Even though he wasn’t that gung-ho on compromising, this seemed like a sensible approach to the matter as far as Subject Three could tell. “I… okay,” he conceded, not without a bit of a pout though. “When can I talk to him then?”

“Tonight perhaps, but you can’t keep standing in public like this. The Traveller and Paimon returned to Mondstadt last night as well and while I doubt those two would have stuck around long enough to still be here, I wouldn’t risk running into them if I were you,” Kaeya answered.

“I can’t go back to hiding in the office though,” the whopper pointed out.

“You can wait in my apartment then, if you promise to behave yourself.~ I’ll be back when my shift ends.”

Ah, he was allowed to keep staying with Kaeya? Subject Three perked up again at this. “Yes, I’ll be good,” he confirmed eagerly. Following instructions well meant rewards, that was how his master trained him initially… even if the reward was mostly lack of punishment. If he was good for Kaeya wouldn’t he also be rewarded though?

It was lucky that the building which Kaeya lived in was accessible via some side stairs and the street it was on was residential and out of the way, which kept them out of sight for the most part. Kaeya had accompanied him up just to unlock the door but headed back out immediately after, leaving Subject Three alone in the room. Another enclosed space he had to figure out how to deal with… but this time he couldn’t throw any books on the floor or Kaeya would be mad. Even though he wanted to please Kaeya similarly to his master, it wasn’t quite the same; he had to follow his master’s orders or he would be punished and maybe even killed, but for Kaeya it wasn’t because he was afraid of him… he just desperately craved the knight’s acknowledgement.

That being said, Subject Three needed to occupy himself in some way that wasn’t tearing apart Kaeya’s living space. The room with the comfy pot was where he was most familiar with so he decided to stay in there. Ideally he’d just get back in the pot and go to sleep, not having to be shaped like a human would be an amazing first step… but he was still stuck in these stupid clothes. He couldn’t even remember how Kaeya had removed them last night, a lot of things were fuzzy from last night actually. Kaeya had put them on for him this morning though… could he just do that backwards? He’d missed most of it but maybe he could still piece it together since it was fresh in his mind.

There was only one way to find out. Subject Three took a seat on the edge of Kaeya’s bed to begin. He distinctly remembered that the gloves and boots went on last, as he recalled being disappointed after thinking he might’ve gotten out of wearing them this time. With enough tugging at various parts, he managed to get one glove off, and using both his freed hand and his teeth he got the other off too. The gauntlets were still on but they didn’t bother him as much, just having the ability to feel with his hands was enough for now. The shoes were similar to the gloves, in that they mostly just involved pulling but he spent most of his time rolling on his back while he struggled to yank the things off, leaving him quite winded by the end.

The discarded items were launched ruthlessly off the bed, miraculously failing to hit anything but the floor. All of his struggling had even slipped his belt off his shoulder which left it sitting near his waist where it was catching on his dumb coat’s stupid decorations. Pulling didn’t do much to help the coat though, no matter which way he pulled, it remained caught on some part of his body. Eventually, he gave up, he was satisfied just being out of the boots and gloves, and frankly he was tired after all that struggling.

With a sigh, Subject Three flopped back onto the bed again, using his heels to push himself as he shimmied up to the pillows and— his coat moved! It slipped down his shoulders just like belt! He kept shuffling his body up until he was all the way on the pillows and his coat was almost at his elbows, allowing him to lift his arms out and push the whole thing, belt and all, past his hips and kick it right off the bed. Being in only his shirt and bottoms felt freeing in itself at this point, and he finally relaxed back into the pillow taking a long breath and… noticing… they smelled like Kaeya… he turned his face more towards the pillow he was laying on a breathed in again. They really smelled like Kaeya.

Scent wasn’t a sense he relied on much in his normal life, sight and touch were his primary means of experiencing the world as a WhopperFlower. Ever since he’d started his mission in Mondstadt he was much more aware of the smells around him, and there were so many different ones too in a way that just didn’t exist on Dragonspine. Last night though, the one scent he distinctly remembered was Kaeya and how he smelled when he’d carried Subject Three back from the Angel’s Share or how he’d smelled the same yet… a little bit different looming over him on the bed, sweat glistening on his body.

Even though the smell lingering on the pillows was making his face and body feel warm again, he just wanted to sink his face deeper into the pillows. Being surrounded by Kaeya’s scent like this felt so good to him, it made him feel like Kaeya was touching him again… or.. not exactly; it felt the way Kaeya’s hand had made him want to be touched more, and it made his breath shorten and his thighs squirm. The smell alone was making him hard in his pants but Kaeya wasn’t even here to help him, how was he supposed to find the same release? He couldn’t go looking for him when he wasn’t allowed to leave the apartment.

Subject Three whimpered into the pillows, reaching his own hand down to desperately palm the growing bulge between his legs, still trapped behind two layers of clothes he didn’t know how to get out of. It didn’t feel the same as when Kaeya did it, Kaeya’s motion were confident and deliberate, and felt so much better with nothing in between. He desperately needed some kind of friction but he didn’t know how to get it himself, he couldn’t grip his dick through his pants the way Kaeya had without them but he couldn’t pull his pants down past his hips without opening them and he was completely stumped on the button!

With a frustrated groan Subject Three rolled onto his stomach instead, pressing his face into the pillows with his arms tucked underneath them. From this angle, he found he could sort of squirm his hips against the duvet for some kind of stimulation but… it just wasn’t enough. Still, that didn’t stop him from trying anyway, desperate pants and whimpers muffled by Kaeya’s pillow left damp by his breaths. Despite the wetness seeping into the fabric of his tighter inner pants, his needy squirming and rutting against the mattress just wasn’t enough to relieve him.

By the time the sounds of a key clicking in the front door caught his attention, Subject Three had accomplished little else than reducing himself to a flushed, panting mess… and he was supposed to meet with his master this evening! Ah.. would Kaeya be mad at him? In the end he’d still been bad. In a feeble attempt to mask his state, the whopper rolled onto his back again and lifted his knees to squeeze his thighs shut as the bedroom door opened.

#kaebedo #not actually kaebedo #fellflower #genshin fellflower #kaeya alberich #genshin albedo #kaebedo fanfic #genshin fanfic #kaebedo smut #genshin smut #smutty fic #Taru

[projectoffice5487]

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[samapitongzabala]

im gonna shove the ghost stories dub up my ass

#can someone ask ted cruz if hell suck off ttump for a scooby snack #i asked if monsters got him yet but he hasnt respond yet #fuckin zodiac killer #hes not allowed in my ass #it is my corollas safe space

[seat-safety-switch]

Sure, they call it the international space station, but there’s a hint in that name: nations. If you’re just some guy who’s come up with his own module in his garage, suddenly you’re not good enough to join the others in space. You have to be a whole-ass country, with laws, and a population, and signing onto treaties. I contacted my member of Parliament – maybe I could scam the government into approving it and paying for at least some of the rocket ship delivery – but she was too busy drinking homemade liquor from a shoe to listen to my tale of woe.

Some part of me was deeply disappointed. I had downloaded the PDF of all the major standards from the NASA website, and exceeded them. This thing had so much PL Premium holding it together at the seams that it was more than airtight. I even went all out and actually measured the airlock opening before cutting it into the side of the old shipping container I used as a chassis.

Frustrated, I decided to do a little more work on my space station module. What is that module for, I hear you ask? The thing that living in space is missing: a bitchin’ garage. Astronauts need something to do in their free time, and it can’t all be zero-gravity sex and trying to figure out if their loose fingernail clippings ended up inside the computer keeping them alive. My module offers the ideal recreational activity for all human beings: basic maintenance on a 1993 Toyota Corolla.

There’s a lot of good benefits to working on junk in space, besides the obvious boredom reduction. First, it keeps the best car ever made by humanity safe from any conflagration that could destroy the Earth. It’s important that, even if something happens to us, other civilizations can benefit from this knowledge in the distant future.

When nobody is in the module, the atmosphere can be pumped out. No oxygen means no rust, which is good because painting is really gonna dirty up the air-scrubber filters in a hurry. Not only that, but you don’t need a lift or even jackstands. The car is tied down with ratchet straps, so if you want to get underneath to replace a bushing or inspect a leaking exhaust donut, just loosen the straps off a titch or two and slide right under. You won’t even get splashed with oil when you remove the filter! Plus, things are super light to remove; why not solo the entire transmission and just throw it out the airlock when it starts to surge the 2-3 shift?

Last, the space shuttle often returns empty. On the way up, it’s full of satellites and CIA spy shit, but on the way down there’s nothing going back. Why not throw the project car in there – it’ll probably fit – and put it on eBay to make some extra money on top of that low-dollar astronaut paycheque from the government?

Eventually, I’ll wear the government down and force them to send my module up, even if I have to form a violent, reactionary, populist mob in order to do it. We just have to figure out a cool chant to yell while smashing the implements of the state and law enforcement. What word rhymes with “facilitate the off-world repair of Toyotas?”

#toyota #toyota corolla #nasa

[boop-le-snoot]

cupid carries a gun

masterlist • taglist & faq

dark!Bruce Banner x named!Reader. Rated R.

Dr. Banner is a serial killer known as the Doctor and Bailey has his soulmark. He escapes imprisonment and meets his soulmate. ~2,2k words. Serial killer fluff??

[no y/n, no 'you', no reader description, race/age/body type neutral, only first name]

This is more of a concept I wrote in an hour than an actual fic. I think it would make a good multi-chapter, but really, my hands are full now and I just needed to get this weird dream off my chest. Yes, I had a dream he was a serial killer and I was his soulmate 💀🖐🏻 I need to ease up on true crime shows istg...

St. John's was suffering a nasty collective psychosis. That would be the only logical explanation Bailey is willing to accept for the jittery, jerky way everybody is behaving. Some of it could be attributed to the armed guards roaming the halls and scaring the patients - but in America, a gun slung over the shoulder shouldn't invoke such a reaction from people.

Only select few know what these people are there for, anyways. Most hospital population is clueless, only vaguely perceiving the sense of dread those harbouring the knowledge seem to carry around. People are easily scared - the thought doesn't leave Bailey's head her whole shift.

She, however, knows exactly what is happening. She's good at her job, brilliant even, nerves made of purest steel and bedside manner perfectly compassionate and tender. It doesn't come as a surprise that she is the one that got chosen to handle the problematic, uncooperative patients.

The bar is high, and this time - neigh impossible. A man so dangerous, so volatile, it required the sheriff to dispatch their town's squadron of special forces - not that was anything but a slight setback for the Doctor. The halls of this hospital will be forever marred with their blood, will forever be haunted by the echoes of their screams abruptly cutting off with a wet squelch.

Bailey thought she'd done her part to protect the innocents. Her colleagues, young women just like her (they're not, Bailey's mind whispers), all safely locked away in a storage closet for the cops to find. There are no windows and He won't see or hear them... If they're smart.

There he is, the man everybody is savagely afraid of. He is everything and nothing she had imagined - Doctor Bruce Banner is on the shorter side, stocky and sickly pale in his hospital issue pajamas, the bluish tint to his skin contrasted by dark crimson stains of blood on the rancid green cotton of his clothes.

The axe in his hands is held firmly but clumsily - Bailey's sure it wouldn't have been his weapon of choice should he had been given one. A choice. She swallowed the unease that spread all over her determination like mold, seeing his eyes, wild and crazy, land on the crook of her arm - where his mark laid, bright red and angry, as if it had been carved into her flesh mere days ago.

"Are you, perhaps, in need of a nurse, doctor Banner?" Bailey inquired softly, fingertips shaking, as the man crossed the space between them with short, powerful strides. The woman's stance widened, involuntary shivers running through her bones at the unexpected tenderness coming from him - Dr. Banner's palms gently wrapped around her arm, warm, chapped lips touching the angry, red soulmark near the crook of her elbow.

"It's been so long since I had a nurse," the man's mutter was barely audible. His eyes, the warmest brown she'd ever seen, met Bailey's wide, shining ones, for her to discover no trace of the madness she was told should be there. Bailey smiled.

As the hospital building grew smaller in the rear view mirror, so did Bailey's anxiety, paving way to excitement and muted curiosity. Her mother always had told that fate had a way of intervening when it was needed - and her mom had oftentimes taken up the role onto herself, moving them out of the state when Bailey's soulmark began to appear on dead people's bodies, burned or cut into skin as a signature. Bailey was not old enough to understand what it meant, back then, but she'd always been a clever girl.

With her first mobile device, she figured out why her mother strictly prohibited her from speaking about it, why her mother always kept a stash of large bandaids to cover it should Bailey be required to remove her long-sleeve shirt.

Only Bailey's physician knew. She'd expected terror, disgust - or even pity, but Dr. Strange always kept his mouth and eyes shut. As Bailey grew older, blossomed into a fine young woman, she thought she saw envy leak into his chiseled features - but Dr. Strange was as quiet and cynical as ever.

As long as nobody tried to separate them, it would be fine. A small smile stretched her plush lips, hand squeezing the one holding hers with giddiness creeping into her youthful features. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed an expression of curious tranquility on Dr. Banner's- Bruce's face as his eyes stayed firmly on the road as the radio crackled static in-between songs.

"Penny for your thoughts?" The man she'd grown to crave and fear, his salt and pepper curls bouncing with every pothole the car hit; his warm hand, larger than hers by a stretch, provided comfort she hadn't known she needed.

"Where to, doc?" The woman couldn't hold back the anticipation. She wanted to hold him, to be close - closer than her small, cramped cheap car allowed them to be.

"I have some friends waiting for me," the man announced, as if he hadn't spent the last five years in a maximum security prison. Not that it mattered to Bailey - but knowing there was no way back from this, Bruce's so-called friends became a point of doubt to the young woman. The doctor noticed it, his responding smile both dangerous and comforting, all sharp canines and moist lips. "You know them, baby. Dr. Strange is a colleague of mine and Tony Stark is a great friend."

Bailey's eyebrows rose, mild disbelief caught somewhere in her trachea as she attempted to clear her throat. Her family physician and the businessman rumoured to be the largest crime boss of their side of the pond. Suddenly, Strange's long glances and penetrating stares acquired a new meaning, a sense of indignation seeping into Bailey's newly found joy. "And he never said anything," the longing, the countless nights spent studying every publicly available material on Dr. Banner, the killer surgeon that terrorised the Tri-State area burned acrid in her chest.

"He told everything to me," Bruce's remark stung if only from the fact that he'd known about her all along. "Who, do you think, pushed for your transfer to St. John's?" Bruce's smile glinted a little wicked in the meager light of passing-by streetlights as the evening sun simmered down to a rest below the horizon. "I don't actually have cancer," the second remark was more optimistic, spoken hopefully, with another gentle squeeze to her hand.

Bailey puffed out a breath she didn't know she was holding. The puzzle pieces slowly started to arrange themselves, revealing a bigger picture than the one before. She wanted to be mad - mad at Stephen, for not saying anything; mad at Bruce, for getting himself caught years prior. And the anger at her own mother, for taking away her right to stand by her soulmate, for all the countless fights and nights spent locked up in her room.

Bailey had been treated like a monster as soon as he soulmark showed up - and after so much time spent trying to show she wasn't one, perhaps, it was time to face the truth. Perhaps, it was time to show them how much of a monster she could be, if they were so unhappy before.

Gravel flew under the wheels of Bailey's beaten up Toyota Corolla, sending little pebbles to bang noisily against the bumper and the stone flower beds surrounding the driveway to a large two-story mansion. Two cars stood in from of it with two men leaning each against their own vehicle.

The shorter figure was well-dressed, suit obviously bespoke and expensive, sunglasses reflecting the headlights of her Toyota even from a distance away. The taller figure stood out with familiarity, a lit cigarette freely dangling between the finger of his gesturing hand - Dr. Strange and his long, sculpted legs, Bailey could recognise even from a mile away.

Bruce parked, killing the engine and exiting the car with a free, lopsided grin carelessly thrown in Bailey's direction. Fumbling with the lock of her seatbelt, the woman's eyes latched onto the figure of her soulmate eagerly embracing the shorter man, their reunion evidently long-awaited and happy. Stephen's coarse laugh penetrated the interior of the car as the wacky passenger side seatbelt finally let Bailey free.

Three pairs of eyes bore into her body still wearing the scrubs from the hospital - one laughing, Strange was amused; one curious - none other than Tony Stark and his shameless smirk had made an appearance at their first getaway destination; and Bruce, looking so damn proud and lovesick. The grin tugged at Bailey's lips as the presence of the other men barely registered in her elevetaed emotional state.

"Damn, Brucie-bear, lucky you," Tony Stark wolf-whistled, clapping the doctor on the shoulder and receiving a fond eyeroll in return. Those two really were good friends. "Well, I won't hold you two back from getting to know each other better," Stark wiggled his eyebrows salaciously. "We can talk business tomorrow," with that, Stark waltzed over to Bailey, snatching the keys to her car out of her hands with a quick flick of his wrist. "Can't have a car allegedly containing a runaway prisoner on my property, now can I? Don't worry, babycakes, my people will take care of it. Bruce is family. You better treat him well, or else," the river of words flowed from Tony's mouth, causing the surprised Bailey to simply freeze in place and withstand his rambling, surrounded by the smell of whiskey and Stark's expensive cologne.

Despite his easy tone and the relaxed demeanor, Bailey knew a dangerous man when saw one. Tony Stark was not to be fucked with. "Yeah," she mumbled, scampering for the trunk to take out the duffle bag she carried around everywhere - just in case. Just in case her serial-killing, incarcerated-for-life soulmate would somehow found his way to her.

Tony looked at the spectacle with amusement. "You won't need your ID, sweetheart. All of that is going to be taken care of, don't worry your pretty little head about it."

"Duly noted," Bailey couldn't help the annoyed frown at Tony's frivolousness. Her government ID was the last thing on her mind. She wasn't stupid, she knew her mother would go to the cops as soon as she saw the news. "I have my own business to attend to. Might need a hand," the realization came with the dull thud of the trunk being slammed shut.

Tony's eyebrows rose; Bruce approached her with caution, wrapping an arm around her waist from behind. "Is it urgent?"

"Her mother knows about their connection," Strange piped up, glowing ember of the cigarette flying somewhere over the car. The sound of a lighter followed immediately, another dot of shiny red standing out in the twilight. "Don't worry, Bailey, she's detained and sedated for the time being," he offered with a crooked smirk, nearly no trace of the quiet man who bandaged her boo-boos when she was a child.

"You planned this," Bailey observed, fighting the dread crawling up her spine. The realization - she will never step back, will never be able to escape this life - set in. She was unprepared, having acted on a whim, prepared to live on the run but not within an arm's reach of her previous life yet unable to resume it.

"A long time ago," Strange nodded. "You always were a clever girl, Bailey. It is delightful to finally you where you belong," he smiled at Bruce in earnest.

Bailey wondered what else was going on in the sleepy town of hers. What kind of atrocities were committed daily under her nose, by the very people she knew and trusted. There was so much evil in this world.

But not Bruce. He could never be evil, even as he cut the hearts out of the men that had been treating those around them as objects. Bruce merely made them what they should've been; the greed, the infidelity - what use did those men have for their hearts? The Doctor was merciful and true: he never caused his patients undue pain and always, always left them in a state they were true to themselves. It wasn't his fault so many of his patients were heartless beasts for men.

Those clever hands, the same hands that brought the world at his feet, brought Bailey at his - voluntarily so. Their bodies hot, impatient for each other, with their blood singing a song of lust and longing, both of them hidden from the world by the heavy velvet curtains of Tony's estate - it was hellfire in heaven.

No amount of time too long as Bruce's teeth closed around Bailey's jugular, sinking into the flesh tenderly, all the while her nails penetrated the skin of his back; both drew blood, content to drown in it and wash their sins away with it. Heaven and Hell were merely words for the two, anyway.

Bruce Banner taglist:

@couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @pilloclock @sapphicnoodle69

#dark!bruce banner #bruce banner x reader #dark!bruce banner x reader #tw serial killers #what is this even asdfgk #my followers: FORGIVE ME #please #this is so undercooked 😭😭😭

[paterson-blue]

Honey, You're Familiar (Like My Mirror Years Ago); Part 3

Part 3: The Date

Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I Part 4 I Part 5

Summary: Things don't go exactly to plan. Clyde stresses.

Word Count: 4,010

Warnings: fluff, spice, grumpy Clyde Logan, pouty boy (but he's still in love), sentimentalism, sickly sweet pet names, smoochin', grindin', oral sex (male receiving), cum on body (not in!), original female character–let me know if I need to add anything else!

A/N: Thanks again to @paper-n-ashes for being my beta reader & quelling all my writing jitters. You're the absolute best!

Prefer AO3? I gotcha!

It’s a fuckin’ disaster.

Starts out nice. Juniper shows up on his doorstep wearin’ a slinky little black dress, one that shows off her curves and makes Clyde’s mouth go dry. She tells him he looks handsome and he feels giddy. He sweeps his newly styled hair out of his face, sayin’ she looks absolutely stunnin’. Juniper beams, grabs his hand, tells him they better get a move on ‘fore they’re late.

They’re late. They’re later than late.

They aren’ five minutes outta town when lightenin’ starts to streak across the sky. Clyde shifts uneasily, eyes cast upward towards the swirling heavens. It’s rainin’ cats and dogs in no time and Juniper has to slow to half the speed limit to drive safely. Clyde’s thoughts go to the river up ahead, the one the road crew was still tryna’ re-stabilize since the last storm flooded it.

Fifteen minutes from their destination and they have t’pull to a stop on the highway, suddenly blocked in a jam. Flashin’ red and blue lights indicate an accident up front, and while Clyde spares a thought to whoever was involved, he can’t help but check the time. They aren’ gonna make their reservation, he just knows it.

The car behind ‘em lays on its horn, the sound makin’ both Clyde & Juniper jump. The driver either doesn’ seem to understand the concept of bein’ stuck or plain just don’ care. Clyde clenches his jaw, glowerin’ into the rear view mirror—he can only see the driver’s silhouette behind the bright glow of the headlights. He’s keepin’ his cool until the driver reaches his arm out, in the pourin’ rain an’ all, just t’give Juniper the finger.

Clyde’s unbucklin’ his belt quick as can be, chest heavin’ as he reaches for the door handle. He’s ‘bout ready to stomp to the car and yank the man out.Teach ‘im a lesson on manners, teach ‘im t’treat a lady like—

“Clyde.” Juniper stops him in his tracks with just his name on her lips. He looks over at her from under his hair, expression tense. She reaches up to caress his cheek, holdin’ his face in her little palm so sweetly, thumb brushin’ over the sharp line of his jaw. “Leave him be. It’s not worth gettin’ into trouble.”

Clyde deflates, honey brown eyes downcast. He sounds miserable when he speaks. “… We’re gonna miss dinner.”

“I know, sugar. It’s okay.”

His heart flutters in his broad chest despite his distress. She’d called him ‘sugar.’ He likes that; wants to hear it again real soon.

By the time they get through all the traffic and make it to the restaurant, their reservation is indeed gone, table havin’ been given away. They stand together just outside the building, under the little awning in an attempt to stay out of the rain.

Clyde huffs, so morose that he’s unable to enjoy the way she was pressed up against his side. “M’sorry.”

Juniper frowns, reachin’ up to pat his stomach gently. “You stop that. You haven’t done anything to be sorry for.”

Clyde shakes his head sadly, heavin’ out a sigh. “It’s the Logan Family Curse.”

She looks up at him, brows arched, her hand still settled on his belly. “Oh is it now?”

He nods, brows pinched together. Juniper reaches for his hand, pulling it to her lips and pressin’ a kiss to his knuckles. “You aren’t cursed, Clyde Logan. And if you are, I’m perfectly happy to be cursed right along with you.”

Clyde doesn’ quite know how to respond to that, but luckily, he doesn’t have to right away. Juniper moves her lips to the pads of his large fingers, kissin’ ‘em gently before lettin’ him pull his hand away. Clyde cradles her pretty face in his palm, takin’ the time to admire her. Finally, he speaks. “Thank you, darlin’. That’s mighty nice of you t’say.”

Juniper nuzzles into his touch, sighin’ happily; it makes Clyde feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

“I’m only saying what’s true. Now c’mon. I know it’s a Friday night but there’s bound to be somewhere we can eat.”

They end up findin’ an old fashioned drive-in burger place, somewhere they can park and eat in the car out of the rain. It’s not where Clyde wants to take her; she deserves to be wined and dined all proper, not greasy burgers and milkshakes. But Juniper doesn’ seem to mind; as soon as they’re parked she’s squintin’ up at the menu, a big smile on her face.

“This all sounds so fucking good.” She giggles, lookin’ over at him. It makes the disappointment in Clyde’s chest fade away, and he leans over the center console to peer out the window to see what choices they were offered. It puts him in her space, and Juniper leans in to press a gentle kiss to his temple. He blushes, his cheeks only getttin’ hotter when she brushes some of his hair out of his face. He desperately wants to kiss her but he doesn’ know if it’s the right time.

He’s finally acceptin’ the night’s change of plans—finally acceptin’ that this might be good, burgers and fries while dressed up nice, watchin’ the rain pour from the safety of Juniper’s little Corolla—when the carhop comes out to tend to them. Clyde’s already diggin’ into his wallet as Juniper rattles off their order; he holds his debit card out, arm reachin’ over Juniper’s lap.

The carhop doesn’ move for the card. Instead, they say “Card machine’s down. Cash only.” in what Clyde thinks is possibly the most bored tone they could muster. He tries not to bristle as he fumbles with his wallet for a second time, patience already worn thin from the night’s events. He’s only got a fifty in his billfold. The fifty.

Their fifty.

He hesitates, even though he knows it’s irrational; Jimmy always did tell him he was too damn sentimental for his own good. Juniper must realize—she always does, Clyde never seems to have to explain himself to her—because she grabs her purse from the floorboard. Clyde stops her, shakin’ his head as he tugs the fifty dollar bill out. “S’alright, darlin’. Y’told me t’save it for a rainy day.”

Juniper’s face softens at his words, and Clyde hands the money over to the carhop, who looks like they want to be literally anywhere else. Soon Clyde’s been given his change, and he quickly puts it back up. As soon as he’s done Juniper’s reachin’ for him, pullin’ him in by his collar. Clyde goes willingly, twistin’ in his seat to move his prosthetic to the middle of her back, arm wrapped around her.

“I’ll give you another one.” She tells him firmly, and Clyde huffs out a laugh.

“Well that’d be awful silly of ya, Junebug. You’ll run outta money real quick if y’keep givin’ it all t’me.” He tries to soothe her with a joke, wantin’ to let her know that it was alright. Sure, it had been special to him—reminded him of their meetin’—but it was just a piece a’ paper. What was a piece a’ paper when he had the most important thing right here in front a’ him?

He wants to curl up further into her, but their positions don’t allow for it—the vehicle doesn’ exactly allow for him to move his long limbs much a’ anywhere. If this was as close as he could get, he was satisfied. Juniper shifts suddenly, eyes trained on him as she leans closer. They share a breath, then two, and then she’s pressin’ her mouth against his.

It’s nothin’ if not chaste. Clyde gets the feelin’ she doesn’ exactly want to neck in the front seat of her car like teenagers—at least not in plain view of the drive-in’s staff and other patrons. Just a gentle kiss, a little more than a peck; firm and lingerin’ just enough that he knows it happened. Juniper follows it up with another one at the corner of mouth, their noses pressin’ against one another’s cheeks.

It’s more than enough for Clyde; more than enough to get his pulse to sky rocket. He can’t remember the last time he’s been treated so gently, so much love in such a small movement. She gives him a smile when she pulls away, and they both sit back in their seats, starin’ all heart-eyed at one another. She takes the metal of his hand in hers, holdin’ it, and Clyde thinks maybe he should reconsider the whole curse thing.

They head back home after finishin’ their meal, the storm slowly peterin’ off as they get closer to Clyde’s trailer. Juniper walks him to his door, gigglin’ when she offers him her arm to escort him. He takes it, grinnin’ like a fool as they stomp up the front steps. They stand there under the yellow porch light, humid heat surroundin’ ‘em. Clyde usually hated the humidity, but not when it was like this, creatin’ such a hazy, intimate bubble around ‘em. Juniper drops her arm, but only to reach for Clyde’s flesh hand, holdin’ it in both of hers.

“I had a really nice time tonight, Clyde. Best date I’ve ever been on—and I mean that.”

Clyde can feel himself blushin’, a pleased smile turnin’ his lips up. “I had a good time, too. Wouldja—wouldja wanna do it again? Sometime soon?”

“Yes.” She answers almost before he can finish askin’, and they both laugh. There’s a beat, a pause, a breath, and then Juniper is leanin’ up the same moment Clyde’s leanin’ down. It’s a relief when their lips touch, like the first drink a’ water in the mornin’. Clyde thinks he’s been parched his whole life and never even knew it.

Juniper’s the one who deepens it, the one who drops his hand to lean into him, to thread her fingers through his thick hair, holdin’ him close. And fuck, Clyde isn’ gonna fight it. He wraps his arm around her, prosthetic against her back as his hand moves to hold her face. His palm envelops her cheek, thumb under her chin to keep her head lifted. They kiss and kiss, and when she makes a little whine in the back of her throat Clyde swears he’s floatin’.

When she pulls away to breathe he makes a sound of his own, a disappointed little groan that she huffs out a laugh at. He’d be embarrassed if she wasn’ nuzzlin’ her nose against his cheek like she can’t get enough.

“Those lips a’ yours aren’t fair.” She murmurs, and Clyde hums, strokin’ his thumb along her jawline. He doesn’ want this to end, he thinks for possibly the thousandth time that night. He doesn’ wanna let her get back in her car an’ drive across town, over the train tracks, past the antique shop, until she gets to the bed & breakfast.

He wants her right here, and he’s never been the one in this position, but he doesn’ hesitate when he asks her, “D’y’wanna come in?”

She nods, and it sets his chest aflame. They straighten up, untanglin’ themselves from one another even as she leans into his side, not wantin’ t’be too far. Clyde’s hands shake as he unlocks the front door but he doesn’ care if she sees. He wants her to see, wants her to know what she’s doin’ t’him. Maybe then...maybe she won’t leave.

Clyde flicks on the lights, closin’ the door behind both of ‘em. He watches as Juniper assesses his things: his clumsily cleaned living area, the small kitchenette that was (thankfully) decluttered. The hallway leads back to the bathroom, and then his bedroom, but Clyde doesn’ dare look towards it, much less lead her that way. Instead, he steps towards the fridge, hand reachin’ out to brush against the door.

“Want anythin’ t’drink?” He asks, voice quiet, as if nervous to disturb the silence. Juniper shoots him a smile, shakin’ her head as she perches on the couch.

“No, I’m okay, thank you.”

Clyde nods, lingerin’ there even though he doesn’ want a drink neither. Her eyes look him over, amusement showin’ in them.

“Why don’t you c’mere? If you want, of course.”

He wants. Oh, how he wants. So he goes, movin’ across the distance between them in three long strides until he can sit himself next to her. He’s stock straight, heart thrummin’ in his chest; his nice button-down feels all tight against his skin, too itchy. He thinks only her touch’ll soothe it, but doesn’ wanna ask her. Juniper, however, reads his mind; she always can. She smoothes a hand over his jean-clad thigh, leanin’ in ever so slowly, like she’s gonna startle him if she moves too fast. Clyde’s breath catches in his throat as she kisses him again, and it's heaven, it's heaven.

It’s different from in the car, from on the porch. This time there’s more purpose to it. Juniper’s kissin’ him—tastin’ him— like he belongs to her, and Clyde thinks maybe it's because she knows he does. He’s tryna’ angle his body just right, tryin’ t’lean down without puttin’ a crick in his neck. Not that he’d care much, if he did--a crick was worth this, worth the feelin’ of her tongue brushin’ against his bottom lip, against his teeth.

Juniper makes a frustrated little noise, pullin’ back, and Clyde’s brows furrow in confusion.

“Wha--Wha’s--?” He stammers out, flesh hand flexin’ on her waist, the silky fabric of her dress feelin’ so soft and cool against his skin. Juniper’s lips are plush and kiss bitten; Clyde tries to take a picture of ‘em in his memory, eyes trained on their pretty color. He almost misses her question. Scratch that, he does miss her question; has to very ineloquently say “huh?” to get her to repeat it. She ducks her head, voice shy.

“Can I, uh--get in your lap?”

Shit. Shit. Clyde nearly feels dizzy for all the blood rushin’ down south. It makes him a little self-conscious; she’s not gonna want t’sit on his lap and have his cock pressin’ into her all demandin’ like. But damn, his little Junebug looks so eager, her eyes darker than he’s ever seen ‘em, and like he’d said: he wants. So he just nods, barely breathin’.

Juniper shifts, pushin’ him into the back of the couch and he goes easily, willingly. She hikes her dress up her legs and Clyde gets a barely there peek of dark green lace before she’s straddlin’ his lap. He moans, can’t fuckin’ help it, and Juniper dives in to capture the sound with her mouth. Her hands are on his face, in his hair, fingers rubbin’ the shells of his ears—he’s surrounded, he’s drownin’, suffocatin’. He’s never felt so alive.

His own hands are placed chastely on either one of her hips, though he knows his flesh hand must be grippin’ her somethin’ fierce. The thought flashes in his mind, of him leavin’ little fingerprint shaped bruises on her skin for her to feel the next day. It makes him shiver underneath her.

Juniper takes and takes, and Clyde lets her. Clyde wants to be taken, in whatever way she’ll have him. Suddenly she’s pullin’ away just enough to suck in a little air, lips still brushin’ against his. He presses his long nose into the soft skin of her cheek, breath hot between them. When Juniper speaks, her voice is strained.

“Touch me, Clyde. Please.”

He doesn’ hesitate. His good hand moves from her hip to her ass, grabbin’, kneadin’ as he pulls her tighter against him. She lets out the prettiest noise Clyde thinks he’s ever heard, and his lips find her neck as his other arm comes around to hold her close. God, she tastes so good; her perfume fills his head until he feels dizzy with it.

She's pressed flush to him like this, grindin’ her hips against his. Clyde’s hard and leakin’ in his brand new jeans and the only thing he can think of is hearin’ her little noises again. Her hands are back in his hair, pullin’ at it, sweepin’ it away from his face so he doesn’ get tangled in it as his mouth makes a hot path down the neckline of her dress.

It feels so damn good that Clyde doesn’ realize she’s tryin’ to get his attention until she yanks on his tresses, his scalp burnin’ from it. Honestly he thinks he groans, rough and wild in his throat, the pain shootin’ straight to his cock. But it makes him look at her, and she holds him from divin’ back into her skin.

“Clyde I wanna—I wanna taste you. Is that okay? Can I?”

Lord Almighty above. That should be his line, it really should. But how can he argue with her? He’d give her anythin’ she wanted, anythin’. And she wanted—wanted to put her mouth on him. Clyde spares a thought for all the trimmed and proper men he’s seen in porn, how much nicer they looked, how Juniper deserved the best. West coast mean surely didn’ look the way he did. But then,“Yes,” he’s sayin’, voice ragged, “yes.”

And she’s slippin’ out of his lap onto the floor between his legs. Clyde’s heart pinches, and he leans forward to pick her right back up. To say “oh, darlin’, y’don’ need to be on the hard floor like that. Lemme stand an’ you c’n sit right back on these here pillows.” But before he can get his legs under him she's pressin’ her face between ‘em, nuzzlin’ into the scratchy fabric of his jeans, right up against his cock. Clyde’s brain short circuits.

“Been wantin’ this.” Juniper murmurs, small hands workin’ at his belt, and Clyde arches his hips up, tryin’ t’help her get his jeans off. He can’t believe this—can’t believe this is happenin’. She tugs his jeans and pants down his legs, just enough that his cock is revealed. Clyde clumsily unbuttons the first couple buttons at the bottom of his shirt, not wantin’ to get the new fabric messy. Juniper seems to like his idea; she sighs and leans forward to press her lips to the bare skin of his stomach.

“Sweetheart.” Clyde whispers, voice all trembly. He stretches out a little, givin’ her more access to his pale abdomen. Her lips are so soft against his skin, against the dark trail of hair leadin’ down, down, down. She follows it, nosin’ to the crook of his thigh, teeth scrapin’ deliciously ‘fore she turns her attention to his cock—already plump and stiff, and very interested in her ministrations. She wraps a hand around it and Clyde’s breath catches in his throat. She studies his cock, gives it a gentle stroke, thumb rubbin’ at the velvety head.

“You’re so big.” Her voice is quiet, but it startles Clyde all the same—he’s been transfixed by the vision in front of him.

“O-Oh, I-m, uh—“

He’s attemptin’ to apologize—his first instinct, really. But his brain isn’t really functionin’ all that well, and then she’s leanin’ in to lave her tongue over his slit. Clyde groans, a sound comin’ deep from his chest as he zeros in on the pretty pink of her soft, wet tongue. Juniper hums as if she’s pleased, a little smile on her face, and then she’s slippin’ her mouth over his cock in earnest.

Clyde’s head drops back against the couch pillow, lungs strugglin’ to suck in air. Oh fuck, oh fuck, fuck—it felt so good. She was gorgeous, she was perfect, she was a fucking angel doin’ this for him. She couldn’ take all of him into her mouth but goddamn she was tryin’. It didn’ matter—even if she wasn’ usin’ her hand to make up the difference, Clyde thinks he could cum just from seein’ her there between his legs, her silky soft lips on his skin.

He moves with her—not in a way where he’s pushin’ her or askin’ for more, but in a way where she’s pullin’ him; she’s the ebb and flow of the tide and he follows her willingly. His back arches, toes curlin’ up in his boots; his prosthetic settles on top of her free hand where it was grippin’ one of his large thighs. His other hand is too busy grippin’ the couch cushions to do much else. He’s lost to it—to her—an’ he doesn’ wanna be found.

It’s over far too quickly, embarrassingly so—it even surprises him. He’s ridin’ the high of his pleasure and his orgasm hits him so hard and fast that Clyde barely has any time t’warn her. All he can do is make a frantic noise, her name garbled in his throat as he quickly tries to push her off a’ him. But it’s too late—he’s cummin’ the same time that she’s pullin’ away, and Clyde can only watch in an odd mix of both arousal and horror as his cum paints her chin, neck, and cleavage.

Juniper’s mouth is held open in a surprised little ‘o’ shape, brows arched, and Clyde feels fuckin’ humiliated.

“J-Juniper, darlin’, m’so sorry, I—“ He scrabbles behind him for the throw blanket layin’ across the back of the couch, tuggin’ it into his lap so he can clean his mess off a’ her skin. He’s quick to tend to the spend on her cleavage first, hyperaware of how close it was to the fabric of her pretty black dress. “I’m sorry, I tried t’warn ya but it was too—“

“Clyde, it’s okay.” Her voice is all raspy and Clyde bites back a moan at the sound of it. She was so fuckin’ sexy, fuckin’ flawless. He’d cum all over her, messy and wild, and she was still lookin’ at him like he’d hung the damn moon. She pulls herself to standin’, and Clyde’s gaze dips down to where her knees were all red from kneelin’. Just another thing he didn’ know he found hot until now.

“But I guess it’s a little dangerous to keep this on, huh?”

His gaze snaps up to her face when she speaks, and she’s wearin’ a grin, eyes alight. Then she’s twistin’ her arms around, wrigglin’ out of that cute little dress until it graces the linoleum floor. She bends down to pick it up, drapin’ it carefully over one of the kitchen chairs. She moves like it’s nothin; like the sight of her in her heels and underwear ain’ makin’ his cock try to thicken up again.

“Yer so beautiful.” He tells her, gaze trained on her as she walks back over to him. Clyde feels so small with her standin’ in front of him; feels vulnerable even if he was still mostly dressed. Juniper steps out of her heels slowly, placin’ them to the side before leanin’ in, restin’ her hands on the back of the couch on either side of his head so she can kiss him.

Clyde runs his flesh hand over her bare waist, down the swell of her hip, toyin’ with the band of her underwear. He doesn’t push it down; he won’t without her permission. It’s enough to kiss her like this, soft and lazy, feelin’ her skin underneath his. He feels all gooey and happy from his orgasm, even if it had come sooner than he’d have liked.

He sighs into her mouth, content; chases her lips when she pulls away. Juniper starts to work on the buttons of his shirt, and he sits up to help her ease it off a’ his shoulders. She folds it neatly, settin’ it to the side; Clyde forces himself to speak, tryin’ to get his brain back in workin’ order. “D’y’wanna—wanna go back to the bedroom? You c’n lay down and I’ll—I’ll take care a’ ya.”

He thinks he sounds all awkward and silly, but Juniper gives him a warm smile, and his insecurities fade. She was always comfortin’ him, whether she knew it or not. She places one last lingerin’ kiss to his lips before noddin’ at him. “I’d like that.”

______________________________________________________________

taglist friends!

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#clyde logan #clyde logan fic #clyde logan x ofc #logan lucky #clyde logan smut #clyde logan fluff #clyde logan x oc #adcu #feedback always welcome & appreciated! #clyde logan x original female character #tori writes

[whereisten]

Creature Feature - Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 Preview | Taeil blurb

Summary: You work at your family’s 9-5 nighttime theater for the supernatural. Your fling with vampire!Taeyong is just that: a fling.

Pairing: Vampire!Taeyong x female reader

Word Count: 4.9k words

Genre: Romance, Fantasy, Smut

Warnings: cursing, attempted suicide mention, death mention, oral sex (male receiving), fingering, penetration, cock warming

Part 3

[8:30 PM]

It was Saturday night. Your parents rewarded you with the weekend off and you caught up on some sleep and did some online shopping. You sat in your apartment in one of the many high rises in Downtown Mystic. You laid on the couch and scrolled through a webtoon on your tablet, kicking your legs like a lovesick schoolgirl. The latest chapter of the webcomic had you gushing. 

Your phone sounded off a text. You didn’t even have to check who it was.

Your parents were back for two weeks now and Yuta’s gifts did not cease. He was sneaky, you had to hand it to him. He somehow always knew when your parents weren’t around to drop things off at your office. It was a good thing he never figured out where you lived.

Day 1 (when your parents came back): The Tiffany necklace

Day 2: a $250 gift card to the Hand and Stone Massage and Facial Spa

Day 3: a Versace safety pin evening dress (he knew your measurements a little too well as it fit you like a glove)

Day 4: Godiva chocolate covered strawberries delivered to you every night before you left for work

…..It made your head spin to even go to Day 14. 

You didn’t use any of Yuta’s gift’s (except for the strawberries because those couldn’t go to waste and you planned to start up a payment plan with him when you kindly rejected him...AGAIN). 

Every time you tried to approach Yuta, though, you were always pulled in another direction by an employee at work. You were everyone’s go-to woman. Their emotional support only daughter. You couldn’t catch a break.

To hell with it, when you got back to work on Monday night, you would ignore everyone for 10 minutes and they would just have to accept it. You would find Yuta when he “stopped by to meet a friend” like he has for the past two weeks. 

Taeyong wasn’t around much either. You met up only a couple of times to French kiss like it was a contact sport but conveniently neither of you had time to be disappointed when you had to part. You both had lives to live. Separately. 

So, there you were, on Saturday night, feeling antsy with nothing to do now that you had to wait for the next chapter of True Beauty to update next week. You weren’t used to being free on a Saturday. It was a weird feeling. To no avail, you called up a couple of friends to see if they were down to go clubbing. You were always the designated driver so you thought they would jump at the chance to avoid paying for a Lyft. 

Alcohol only had a temporary effect on your body: hence, the dream designated driver. 99% human. You wished there was a name for the type of creature you were. Your parents were adamant that you were a human but you knew you stood out from the rest of that population. Your parents were never particularly fond of talking about your family history either so that did wonders for your anxiety.

Age 16

“But mom, how is that I can sense things? The other day at CVS I got change back from the cashier and I knew he wasn’t human. How does that make sense?” I asked.

“You were kissed by an angel, sweetheart. You were blessed with all sorts of quirky gifts. But you are a human: the purest of all of the creatures. Well, below angels. But we’re pretty close.” She replied, winking. I inherited humility from her, apparently.

Now that you were getting older...you were starting to have doubts about this whole “kissed by an angel” business. Why didn’t your mom have any of your abilities? It just didn’t add up. 

You could only hold on to the things you knew: you could understand any creature, you could identify any creature in disguise, your cuts from falls healed very quickly, you could manipulate your dreams, your alcohol tolerance was most impressive, and you had a powerful urge to be with a vampire. 

You missed the feel of Taeyong’s elegant fingers tracing against your thighs and moving dangerously close to your heat. His teasing was torturous but you enjoyed every second of it. You found yourself mimicking his movements to yourself and imagining he was there with you. 

You got off on fantasizing Taeyong on top of you on the couch but the euphoria didn’t last long.

You sighed. You felt really stupid for not sharing your phone number with him. 

 🎥

You thought about going to Target for the hell of it since you never had a chance to go. Your unusual schedule would usually lead you to groggily shop for groceries at 8 in the morning once in a while. You were elated to go at nighttime and kill a couple of hours browsing.

You chose to go makeup free and in an old university tee and yoga pants. It felt good not give a fuck about how you looked for a night. 

You headed over to Target and made a beeline for the Starbucks to get a frappuccino. You haven’t had one of them in months and you were close to the point of tears when you tasted the whipped cream again .

You moaned in happiness. “Yes.”

“I’ve heard that before,” a voice came from behind you. 

You jumped at hearing Taeyong’s voice. “AH!’

Taeyong chuckled when you turned around. “Stop! I could’ve dropped my frap.”

He was in a loose-fitting white tee and black jeans. They looked affordable but you knew that was not the case. He took the straw and drank some of your drink. “I would’ve bought you another one.”

You rolled your eyes. “Very charming. What are you doing here?” 

“It’s nice to see you, too, y/n,” he said, pecking your cheek and caressing it. 

You sighed. “Do you live around here?” This Target was down the street from your place. 

He shook his head. “I’ve been on the lookout for a video game for Doyoung. I’ve been to two Targets already.” Doyoung was one of Taeyong’s vampire pals. 

You frowned. “You should’ve called ahead and asked if they had it in stock.”

Taeyong’s eyes grew. “I did not realize that was an option.”

You laughed. “It’s cool. If you want, we can go to all of the Targets across town until we find Doyoung’s game.”

He smiled. “I’d like that.”

The third time was the charm as Taeyong found Doyoung’s game: Princess Peach & Pals 2. You high fived each other when you checked it out.

Taeyong asked, “I didn’t see you at Sinema yesterday. Are you okay?” 

You took his hand and squeezed it. “Got the weekend off.”

Taeyong looked happier than you did when your parents told you. “I’m glad. You really needed it.” 

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s kind of weird not having any plans or someone knocking at my door asking for help with the claw machine.”

He chuckled because he helped you fix the claw machine a couple of times. “So you’re free, then?”

“Yup. Why? What were you thinking?”

He stepped back and wrapped his arms around you from behind. “Spend the night with me.”

You restrained yourself from yelling yes a hundred times. “Okay.”

Taeyong led you to the parking lot. He approached his motorcycle, a 2018 Suzuki. You stopped. How could you forget that he rode a motorcycle.

“y/n?” Taeyong asked as he pulled out two helmets. 

“You know what, how about I just take a Lyft over to your place? Gives you time to hide your snacks and your blood bags.” You avoided his stare.

He frowned. “Why?”

“I’m...I don’t do motorcycles.” You hugged yourself. 

You were scared, Taeyong realized. He never wanted you to be afraid. He tried his best to see to it that you would feel safe without him. He never wanted to cross a line that you drew. He thought the only way he could scare you was if he bit you. 

He thought wrong. 

“I’ll go slow, I promise,” he said as he hugged you again. 

You mumbled against his chest. “I don’t know…”

“You can trust me. I don’t live that far from here. It’ll be ten minutes, tops.”

You knew your fear was over-the-top but you couldn’t help it. So many maniacs were on the road. You could barely keep it together in your Corolla. But you were curious. You wanted to push the fear aside and be a little reckless. Taeyong wouldn’t let anything happen to you. Regardless of what your parents told you, vampires were strong and they protected their own. Taeyong regarded you as an equal. He’s said it multiple times. You were his friend and he would take care of you.

So what the hell?

“Okay,” you said, steadying your voice. 

He helped you secure your helmet. He did the same for himself. He got onto the bike. He nodded for you to get on. You wrapped your arms tightly around his abdomen. It was rock solid and you could feel his heartbeat accelerate. 

“Hey. Don’t let me distract you,” you teased.

He chuckled. “Even when you’re not around, love.”

You smacked his arm. “You’re so annoying.”

He laughed. “You ready?”

“Let’s go,” you said as you squeezed him tighter.

Taeyong enjoyed this more than you will ever know. He started up the bike and you moved at a decent speed out of the parking lot. Your heart rate was deceiving you and you knew Taeyong could feel it, too. 

You just let yourself feel what you felt and hoped that excitement would take over. And it did. 

When you got onto the main road, you cheered and laughed. You let yourself be free. For all of your life, you liked to think you had some freedom. At the root of it all, you were stuck in a lot of ways: family obligations, your career, and who you could marry, to name a few. But in this moment with Taeyong, you’ve never felt freer. 

🎥

Taeyong purchased one of the properties at a luxurious oceanfront hotel, Hotel La Mar. He lived on the top floor. 

“Make yourself at home,” he said. “I’m going to wash up.”

You marveled at the spacious apartment. The furniture was leather and the floor was a plush carpet. You could envision yourself curling on the floor. That’s how cozy the space felt.

The living room had a plasma screen TV with shelves and shelves of movies: everything you could think of.

Huh, a movie theater employee human hybrid (?) with a cinephile vampire lord. An interesting concept, you thought. You kept exploring and noticed that there weren’t many photographs around the space. There was one of Taeyong posing in front of the Eiffel Tower at night. Bold of him to break the rules overseas, you giggled to yourself. Another frame contained a visibly older photo. It was a picture of Taeyong and who you assumed were his family: his parents and his sister. You wondered when this was taken.

“1985,” Taeyong answered into your ear, causing the hairs on the back of your neck to rise.

You yelped.

He took the photo frame into his hands so you both could admire it. “This is my family. My mom, my dad, and my older sister Chaewon.”

1985? Taeyong looked exactly the same as he did in that picture. That must have been around the time he became a vampire, you thought.

“I turned a year after that,” he said. You noted the hesitance in his voice.

“Oh,” you said.

“When I was a human, I fell in love with a vampire.”

“Oh, so we’re going there...”

Taeyong took you out to the balcony so you could watch the night sky over the ocean.

“We don’t have to talk about it-“ He started.

“Are you kidding me?” You’ve been dying for more intel on this man.

He smiled amusingly at you. You were so curious and open with him. You were precious to him.

“I met Cleo when I was 22...She was older than me. I didn’t realize at the time just how much older. I worked at my father’s dojo over the summer after I graduated from college. I was going to get my master’s in architecture. I had everything going for me. I dated a few girls in college but I didn’t find someone I wanted to settle down with. I was...a bit of a hopeless romantic.”

Still are, you thought to yourself.

“I was closing the dojo one night when a couple of thugs broke in to rob the place. They were in the process of beating me to a pulp when Cleo and her friends came in and...took care of them.”

You understood that to mean they were sucked dry.

“She told me she’d been watching me for a while and didn’t know how to introduce herself. So that night was as good a time as any. I was shocked to see vampires for the first time. Once upon a time, the world you see every day at Sinema was a fairy tale for me.”

You figured as much. Not all vampires were born as vampires.

“But I couldn’t get Cleo out of my mind so soon I fell into that world. Never looking back.”

And that’s when you heard the regret in his voice.

“Cleo paraded me all over the supernatural parts of the country. She would take me to clubs. Introduce me to her friends. I moved in with her not even a month after we met. The first time she drank my blood...I didn’t expect the emotions to be so strong.”

The alarm bells rang off in your head.

“I was all hers after that, y/n. She bewitched me. I was at her beck and call. Nothing else mattered but how I could please her.”

You could see the pain in his eyes and how he avoided looking at you.

“That’s why...” You started.

Taeyong continued, “I can’t do that to you. It’s not worth the risk. My escorts? Those human women visited witches to give them the resistance from falling under a vampire’s spell. An attraction can grow, sure, but the intense devotion a human feels to a vampire is taboo now. Vampires don’t want to deal with what they would call collateral damage after having one night of unadulterated pleasure.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Your heart hurt for the man before you. It wasn’t his fault that he was under Cleo’s spell. She manipulated him.

“But every now and then, a vampire just won’t care,” he said.

Which means this kind of abuse still went on to this day, you realized.

“After the first bite, I begged Cleo for more. She offered to do me one better and asked for me to join her on her travels around the world: as her vampire prince. Her words. Not mine.”

Taeyong sighed and rolled his eyes. “Looking back on it, it was bullshit. But the human me was...singing from the rooftops. I idolized that woman. She was the key to my happiness. I would follow her to the ends of the earth. And that I did.”

You thought about his family and his life.

“I was a vampire. I couldn’t live my human life anymore. I was devoted to Cleo and that was all that mattered. I gave up on my master’s. I told my parents I was getting married, traveling the world, and didn’t plan on coming back. I was mad at them, y/n. They told me I was a fool for throwing away my future for a woman who sucked me in and would spit me back out. I hated that they doubted me but even more that they doubted Cleo.”

“So you left...”

“I did and it didn’t take long for me to realize that my parents were right. I loved her unconditionally, knowing full well that she was preying on other humans like me, building an empire...well, a harem would be a more accurate term. Soon, I realized I was no longer her favorite and it was eating me up from the inside. I...couldn’t take it so I-“

You felt a sense of dread at what he was about to say next.

”I never even considered the possibility that I could end my addiction to her. I just thought of the quickest way to put me out of my misery. I planned to stab myself in the chest.”

You put your hand to your mouth. “Taeyong...I-“

He squeezed your hand. “It’s okay.”

“It’s a lot...Remembering your darkest days...I don’t want you to feel pressured to tell me everything,” you added as you traced your fingers against his knuckles.

He shook his head. “I want to share this with you.” His brown eyes shifted into bright a shade of blue, suddenly.

“Taeyong, your eyes...”

“They’re blue, aren’t they?”

“Yes but why?”

“I’ll explain. Someone saved me the day I wanted to end it all. Jaejoong. Jaejoong...is like a father to me. He talked me down and helped extract Cleo’s latches off of me. And with that, my memories of her were gone. The witch who helped us with this process was able to conserve pieces of my memories and I only had the nerve to access them recently...After I met you.”

“Taeyong...”

“I wanted to know why I couldn’t let myself bite you. Something inside me was holding me back. I wanted to drink from you so badly but you weren’t an escort. I knew the rules. About the damage that could be caused. But I wanted to understand the nagging feeling at the back of my mind. And accessing those memories again...my eyes turn blue as I reflect on the darkest time in my life.”

“Oh, Taeyong...” You sat curled up against him and held him tightly. “I’m so sorry.”

Taeyong tucked some of your hair back so he can cup your face. “Thank you for listening to me. I thought you would be running for the hills by now.”

“Everyone has their dark past. Granted, mine consists of a crappy ex-boyfriend but my point is that I really appreciate you telling me about yourself. I didn’t expect that.”

Taeyong sighed. “You know, the arrangement we have...”

“Yeah?”

“I like it. But...” He stared out at the sea.

“Go on,” you said as you kissed his neck.

“I don’t want to be just friends with you,” he almost whispered. You were close enough to his lips to hear every syllable clearly.

“I know...”

“You do?” He looked down at you as you played around with the fabric of his tee.

“You told me everything...Basically. I don’t think you did it without an agenda,” you said as you removed yourself off of him and looked into his eyes.

He rubbed his hands against your legs, wishing you’d worn shorts so he can feel your soft skin heat up at his touch. “What do you think?”

You were about to respond when his hands ran up to your butt and he squeezed it. “I...I think we’re ready to move up another level.”

He smiled. “Really?”

Before he went for your butt again, you got yourself up and straddled him. “Really.”

You kissed him deeply, begging his tongue to meet yours. Taeyong quickly reciprocated.

He cupped your face again. “You are so beautiful.”

“I know you mean that,” you said, realizing you looked like a struggling college student in your getup. He really liked you. He wouldn’t avoid your stare. He was happy.

The blue in his eyes vanished and it was back to his warm dreamy brown.

“You okay?” You asked.

“Never better,” he said as you pulled you closer to him. He always embraced you like it was his last time.

He was indeed a hopeless romantic.

“So...” You couldn’t get Cleo out of your mind, though. You wondered what she looked like and how she seduced Taeyong. At one point, Taeyong was in love with her without the enchantment of a vampire. You couldn’t help but wonder if he ever compared you to her. And just how much he remembered after the memory wipe. “Where is Cleo now?”

He cleared his throat. “She’s dead.”

There was a sense of dread again at the pit of your stomach. “How did she die?” You sat beside him again.

“Jaejoong...finished her,” he continued.

“...How?”

“When Cleo found out I had defected to another clan, she was furious,” he said.

“She came after you?” You asked, shocked she would care so much.

“It’s not that she cared,” he answered your thoughts again without realizing it. “It was a matter of pride for her. I was her property. And Jaejoong took it away from her.” That infuriated you.

Taeyong continued, “Jaejoong hid me away from her for a year. So I wouldn’t be tempted to go back to her. Even if her influence escaped me, she could easily lure me in again. I was weak, starved for love. For anything I could get from her after I left everything behind.”

“Taeyong...”

“In 1987, Jaejoong and Cleo faced off. She perished from a wooden bullet shot to the heart.”

You still had so much you wanted to ask. “How do you know she’s gone?” You blurted. You didn’t have a lot of remorse for the death of this woman, you understood.

He met your gaze. “Jaejoong brought me to her body.”

You waited for him to continue.

He said, “And we burned it, making sure no trace of her remained.”

He worried that you would see him differently upon hearing this.

But you understood. She was a monster that preyed upon innocent people and played with them like dispensable toys. You hated that someone could be so vile and tinker with the heart of the man you...

Liked.

“Wow,” you said, meekly.

“I know,” he said, “Jaejoong took in the lost boys of her clan and helped them become independent. Like he did with me. Now we pledge our loyalty to him.”

You wondered if Jaejoong was really as heroic of a man as Taeyong made him out to be.

🎥

You sat with Taeyong in the kitchen. You took some cake mix out from your shopping tote and asked him if you could bake it. “Mind if I use your kitchen?”

“Depends. What flavor is the cake?”

“Red velvet,” you answered.

“Only if I can lick the spoon,” he said as he helped pull out all of the supplies and ingredients.

As you mixed the cake mix with the other ingredients, Taeyong watched you.

You were something else. After telling you some of his darkest memories, you didn’t run off. You didn’t doubt him. You stayed. And for that, he would be eternally thankful.

“You can lick the spoon now,” you sang.

Taeyong creeped up from behind you, dipped his finger into the bowl, scooped some of the batter and ran it across your neck. You stood still.

He moved his finger dangerously slow across your neck and his tongue followed even more slowly behind. You moaned at his delicate touch.

“It tastes pretty good,” he whispered. You could feel his cock grow against your leg.

Taeyong held you from behind as you finished putting the mix into a pan. You laughed at how he clung to you like a koala.

The cake would take about half an hour to bake, which meant...

“Lead the way, Taeyong,” you said.

He scooped you up and he bolted to his bedroom. You laughed.

He tossed you on the plush California king bed and nearly pounced on top of you. You yelled and giggled like you were playing tag.

He kissed you hard as he laid against the bed frame. You pulled his shirt off. He did the same. You surprised him then.

“Where’s your bra?” He asked.

“I took it off when I went to the bathroom. I thought you noticed and that’s why we’re here now.”

“I mean, your nipples looked...”

You pulled him closer. “How do they look?” You lowered your voice.

“Pretty,” he said as he kissed you again. You pulled down his pants and cock greeted you.

Taeyong stood up on the bed as you kneeled down to greet his gorgeous length.

You grasped it hard and Taeyong grunted. “Does it feel good, baby?” You asked.

“Yes, love,” he said as he ran his fingers against your hair.

You took his length into your mouth and moved slowly back and forth, enjoying the taste of precum in your mouth and the sound of Taeyong’s moans. His length tickled the back of your throat. The discomfort was mild but you liked giving him blow jobs. So with practice, the pain became pleasure. You were getting wet at the thought of pleasuring him now.

“Feel me,” you said as you moved your eyes down to your panties. Taeyong put his hands down there and gently placed two fingers inside of you. He moaned again as you sucked faster.

You wanted Taeyong to know that you weren’t there to play with his heart. That was never what you wanted. You wanted to get to know him. And you didn’t want to keep lying to yourself. You were all in. And somehow, you would find a way to make it work.

Taeyong tugged tightly at your hair as he was on the verge of his climax. The thought of his climax aroused you ever further and felt the vibrations deep down in your belly. When he came, you found yourself soaked from him and yourself. You lathered up his cum. You fingered yourself and gave him a taste of your essence. You took all of his cum in and dragged your tongue up to his abdomen and met his lips. You kissed him.

He hugged you and wiped the sweat off of your forehead. “I love you.”

You exhaled like you held your breath for a long time. “I love you, too.”

He laid you down so he could pleasure you. He kissed you again and ran his hands up your thighs and forced them open. You gasped.

He greedily lathered up your cum. “You are exquisite.” He began running his index finger in and out of your clit. You started rocking back and forth.

He tsked. “Stay still, angel. Or I’m going to stop.”

You whined. “Meanie.”

He laughed his deep laugh and just the sound of that made you moan.

His unoccupied hand gripped your thigh tightly, squeezed your ass, and caressed you face. He liked watching you come undone under him. It kept awake sometimes when he was home alone.

He continued to finger you and you mewled when he inserted two fingers. You felt yourself building up again. You couldn’t help but rock back and forth. You wanted to climax.

“Taeyong, please,” you begged.

He smiled as he removed his fingers.

You whined even more. “Evil overlord, please.”

He pecked your lips. “Your wish is my command.”

He quickly inserted his cock and it hit you hard that you cried out. The pain quickly became pleasure as you both moved back and forth.

“Fuck,” he exclaimed. “I fucking love you.”

“I...love...you...” You managed to get out until you both released.

You both went for two more rounds before passing out on the bed. He held you as he covered you under the sheets. The timer went off for the cake.

You were about to get up but Taeyong pulled you back.

“It’ll cool. It’s okay. Just stay with me,” he said as he snuggled up against you.

“You’re so clingy,” you said as you laid your back against his front. He spooned you. His cock was in your ass. You’d wanted to do this with him for a while.

Taeyong was beaming. You were beside him now and neither of you was in a rush to leave. You could take your time and enjoy each other.

He moaned against your neck. “Are you hungry, though?”

You laughed. “I’m good.”

So you laid beside each other as the sun rose and slept for hours.

🎥

You stayed asleep but Taeyong’s phone rang. He slowly got up from bed and covered you with the sheets. You frowned in your sleep like you unconsciously knew he left your side. He laughed quietly as he took his phone off the nightstand.

He walked out of the room so as not to disturb you.

“Hey Jaejoong, how was South Africa?” He asked.

His leader chuckled over the phone. “Beautiful. The great white sharks were incredible. You have to come with me next time.”

“Are you back in the country?” Taeyong asked excitedly. Jaejoong was gone for a while on his travels.

“Yes. I landed today in Mystic.”

Taeyong replied, “That’s great. You have to come over for dinner. I’ll make your favorite chicken parm and you can drop off all of the souvenirs you bought for me.”

Jaejoong laughed. “I hope a keychain won’t disappoint you. How about I come over tonight? There’s something I wanted to talk about with you.” You noticed the shift in his tone.

“Is everything okay?” Taeyong asked.

“Yeah...They’ll be even better soon enough,” Jaejoong said.

To Be Continued in Part 4

#taeyong #nct taeyong #nct 127 taeyong #lee taeyong #taeyong lee #taeyong imagine #vampire taeyong #taeyong smut #taeyong blurb #taeyong au #nct smut #nct 127 smut #super m taeyong #nct #nct 127 #super m #superm #superm taeyong #taeyong romance #superm smut #super m smut #taeyong imagines #taeyong blurbs #taeyong scenario #taeyong scenarios #taeyong fantasy #vampire #vampire smut #nct imagine #nct scenario

[pixieposts]

Dice Prompt 33: Ew that is so sappy I just might vomit

Want some self-indulgent fluff with a side of my secret addiction to poetry?  Cause that’s what you’re getting.  

AO3  

“You know you could just talk to him”

“I have no idea what you mean, I am reading”  

“No Cay, you’re holding a book up and occasionally glancing at it” Beauregard flicked his cheek, her voice rising as she continued to speak “in between staring at Fj—”  

“Shh!” Caleb glared, cutting her off “okay okay I was looking, I was not staring, please keep it down”  

She sighed, but the smirk on her face told him that it was sarcastic.  

“Some sister you are”  

“This is literally exactly what sisters are supposed to do, who even reads at a party?  Do you want me to talk to him for you?”  

“Absolutely not”

She bumped her shoulder into his suddenly, throwing him off balance and sending his book sliding across the old hardwood floors.  He cursed, shoving her back and standing up as she laughed, eyes locked on his errant book.  

As he caught up to it and stooped down, it was swiped from the floor by a large green hand.  Caleb swallowed and stood slowly, feeling his cheeks heat as he looked up into Fjords smiling face.  

“Beau messin’ with your books again?”  

“You could say that, ja”  

Fjord flipped the book open, and the heat in Caleb’s cheeks turned fierce, spreading to his ears and neck.  Fjord read with a curious look on his face, amber eyes trailing across the page.

“I never saw you as the poetry type” Darrows voice teased from as he walked up “Pablo Neruda?”  

Fjord smiled and shrugged “it’s not mine, but I like it” he turned back to Caleb “you highlighted this one, a favourite?”  

“I--well in a way, yes... I only read it this morn--”  

“Bitter love, a violet with its crown of thorns in a thicket of spiky passions, spear of sorrow, corolla of rage: how did you come to conquer my soul? What brought you?”

Caleb tried not to shiver as Fjord read, his low, smooth voice doing the words a service that Caleb felt his own never could.  He made the almost-anger that Caleb had associated with the sonnet soften into something so much more vulnerable, almost sweet.  Fjord smiled and held out the book, still open to the page he had been reading from.  Caleb took it slowly, a jolt like lighting going through him as their fingers brushed, and he could almost convince himself he saw a similar expression flash over Fjord's face.  He held the book to his chest, taking a steadying breath and mentally cursing Beauregard.  

“Th-thank y--” “Do you have any other favourites?”  

They blinked at each other for a moment, then Fjord chuckled and shrugged.

“Sorry, I just figured if you’ve been reading it, you might have some favourites?”  

“I... do not usually read them out loud, I likely would not do it justice”  

“Well” Fjord’s smiled softened “I won’t force you, of course...”  

Caleb felt the familiar flutter in his chest when Fjord’s eyes found his again, and he opened the book instinctively, flipping through the pages.  

“I loved you without knowing I did; I searched to remember you I broke into houses to steal your likeness, Though I already knew what you were like.  And, Suddenly, When you were there with me I touched you, and my life stopped.”  

He stopped reading, realizing with a sudden jolt that the room had gone quiet and the weight of many eyes was on him.  He looked around in horror, seeing that yes, in fact, this was his worse nightmare.  Everyone was staring, Beauregard’s expression dropped from good-natured teasing to guilty horror as she caught his eye.  He looked up and met Fjord’s amber eyes, a look of shock on his face.  

He dropped the book and ran.  

He ran all the way out the door of the old duplex, down the three blocks to the nearly identical one he shared with Beauregard and Jester, and up the stairs.  He fumbled with the key, collapsing against the inside of the door the second it was closed.  He panted, chest heaving and lungs on fire as he tried to calm himself enough to get up without falling.  His legs ached, his head ached, his chest ached.  He absolutely could not ever go back there, in fact, he should probably just start packing now.  He couldn’t face them again, not Beauregard or Jester, and definitely not Fjord.  

Eventually, he dragged himself up and into the shower, pulled on his most comfortable pajamas, locked his bedroom door and burrowed down into his bed.  

Maybe he could just hide out in here forever.  

---

He did hide, for a good three days in fact.  He managed to sneak food into his mini-fridge while the others were sleeping off the hangovers from the night before and knew his housemates well enough to know when he was safe to use the bathroom without running into them.  Beauregard knocked at one point, speaking in the tone closest to kindness, telling him that everyone got so drunk they wouldn’t even remember (“and it wasn’t even so bad anyway man, you’re good at reading out loud and stuff!”).  He elected to ignore her.  

Jester slid pictures under his door, a couple from her instant camera that showed the three of them at the beginning of the Cursed Evening, and one that she had drawn for him.  It was pretty, and abstract piece with almost floral patterns hidden in the colours.  He hung it up... but still did not speak.  

He checked his socials almost obsessively, looking for any mention of his social faux pas.    

Being one of the awkward quiet kids paid off sometimes, it looked like Beauregard was right about everyone forgetting.

By the end of the fourth day, he felt nearly ready to face the world again.  In an effort to test the waters he crept out of his cave that evening and threw together an easy dinner of pasta with meat sauce.  Half because he was sick of cold food, and half because it was something that both women would be distracted enough by to only tease him for a little while.  Just as he was setting the table he heard the tell-tale sound of keys in the lock.  He turned and pinned on a sheepish smile as the door opened.  

Jester walked in laughing, but her eyes went huge when she caught sight of him standing there.  

“Uhhmmm...”  

Before she could explain, Beauregard walked through the door... followed by Fjord.  

They all paused, staring at him as he stared back, feeling the colour drain from his face.  He cleared his throat, setting down the last plate.

“Hallo.”

“Hey Cay” “Hi Caleeeb”  

He looked at Fjord, whose cheeks had gone a ruddier shade of green, as he coughed.  

“I um... I have extra, if you want to stay”

“No, I—well actually that would be—that is...” Fjord stumbled over his words before setting down his bag and pulling out Caleb's book “I came to give you this, and maybe talk to you?  If you want I mean”  

“Oh” his instinct to be polite kicked in as he nodded towards the living room “ja sure, do you want to-?”  

“Yeah, yeah that works”  

He heard the shuffle of the girls tossing their jackets and shoes and making their way to the table, and his nerves ramped up.  They would definitely be eavesdropped, but there really wasn’t anywhere else to go in the house at the moment.  He stopped in the middle of the living room, wishing absently that he had tidied up more today.   There was a moment of mildly uncomfortable silence, before Fjord stepped closer to him, a sheepish look on his face.  

“So... I wanted to return your book” he reached and rubbed the back of his head with one hand, the nervous tick was endearing and Caleb felt his expression soften “I also... well, I wanted to—want to apologize, for what happened”  

“Apologize?”  

“Yeah, I kinda pushed you into reading, and I shouldn’t have, it was shitty of me when I knew you’d probably be uncomfortable” he looked down, face dark again “You just have a great voice, I wanted to—well, it doesn’t matter, it was shitty”  

“Oh” Caleb blinked in confusion “Well, thank you?  You did not need to apologize; I do not blame you for it.” he paused, the rest of Fjord’s statement settling in his brain “you... like my voice?”  

“Yeah” Fjord looked up, a tentative smile on his face “it’s nice, I like your accent.  Why do you think I started going to those books and wine things Jester set up?”  

“Oh” Caleb repeated, feeling like more of an idiot every time he said it “I-I never thought about it, well, no, I did think about it but I thought you were into Jest--” he bit his tongue, trying to stop the waterfall of stupidity that seemed intent on flowing from his mouth.  

“You thought I liked...Jester?”  

“Yes?”  

“No”

“Oh”  

They stood and stared at each other for a moment, Fjord's expression softening to a fond smile.  He stepped farther into Caleb’s space, holding up the book slightly.  

“You’re smart Cay, really smart, but I think you maybe missed a few points here”  

“Explain them to me?”  

“I started going to the wine nights because I liked listening to you talk, I asked you about your books, and your cat, and I wanted to hear you read the poem at the party because I like your voice.  I like you darlin’, not Jes”  

“You like... oh”  

“There you go” Fjord flipped the book open, revealing a scrap of paper being used as a bookmark “you missed part of the poem you know”  

Joy soared in Caleb's chest as the understanding that not only did Fjord like his voice, but he also liked him settled there.  It filled him with a new kind of warmth, and sent a bright smile across his face.  

“I know, tell me anyway?”  

“When you were there with me I touched you, and my life stopped: You stood before me, ruling me.  And you reign:   Like a wildfire in the forest, and the flame is your dominion”

He reached out as he spoke, capturing a lock of Caleb's hair between his fingers.  The red of his hair only looked more vibrate against the rich green of Fjords skin.  A wildfire among the trees.  

Caleb blushed, pulling his eyes from where Fjord held him to catch his gaze instead, and found him staring back.  As they stared, Beauregard's voice rang out from the adjoining kitchen:  

“Ew, that is so sappy I just might vomit.”

Caleb caught the mischievous glint in Fjord's eye only a moment too late.  

“If you didn’t like that, you’ll hate this”  

And then Fjord was kissing him, soft, almost chaste really, but with one hand in Caleb’s hair and one still trapped between them holding the book... it was perfect.  

#I'm on my Widofjord Shiz as always #fluff #soft #WidoFjord #critical role fanfiction #my deeply secret love of poetry

[maknaesdancersrappers]

“Do you trust me?”

He held his hand out to you like some Disney prince ready to whisk the princess away, but from past experiences, he’s just probably going to take you to his secondhand Corolla, maybe even ask you to split an Uber ride — worse, take a bus if there’s one available at this hour — to this “place” he said would be fun. You’re willing to bet it’s his dorm room.

“Who are you? Aladdin?” You scoffed, crossing your arms, and stared at the guy you’ve been flirting with for the past hour at this random party you were invited to.

“If you want me to be,” He said, coolly, with a shrug of his shoulders, “But my name’s Xiaojun.”

There’s a chant further in the house demanding someone to chug and the rushing couples passing by to get to some secluded space to do whatever they want to had started to get on your nerves. It must have shown on your face because Xiaojun lifts his hand up towards you again.

“I promise you I know a place we can go to. It’s not my dorm room, it’s not some sketchy area downtown — we can go there and see for yourself, and if you don’t like it, then I can take you home or if you’re not comfortable with that, somewhere safe I can drop you off.”

You’re sober, at least. You can fight him off if you need to, but you believe he’s genuinely a good guy.

“So?”

Fuck it. How can you deny a guy with a face like that? You took his hand, “Okay then.”

» buwan ng wika masterlist

#nct scenarios #wayv scenarios #wayv xiaojun scenarios #wayv blurbs #wayv drabbles #wayv xiaojun x reader #xiaojun scenarios

[bookandcover]

I feel I need to start this writing response with several context points, in the synergistic space among which I’ll frame my analysis of this book.

Context 1: I almost didn’t read this book. I wasn’t sure I wanted to and whether I would be comfortable reading it. This was because of limited context about the book itself, paired with reading JK Rowling’s Twitter comments from last year. I did not like nor agree with what JK Rowling said on Twitter adjacent to topics of transgender identity and experiences. Her comments made me unhappy and uncomfortable, and I’ve thought about her comments a lot because they came from someone I respected and admired. Her first comment I saw—questioning the title of an article about providing accessible products for “those who menstruate” (an area of need during the pandemic)—seemed simply ignorant to me, not intended to be cruel nor targeted. But her subsequent actions—arguing with others on Twitter, defending her original point—seemed to reveal a narrow-mindedness, self-superiority, and unwillingness to listen to others who know what they’re talking about. This approach (basically the Twitter-tantrum) is one that I feel sensitive to (it reminds me, in the worst way, of the behavior of our recent ex-President on the same platform…)

Context 2: After witnessing the Twitter-tantrum, I heard this book included a transgender serial killer. That did not seem like a good look on someone who had made ignorant and stubborn comments on Twitter about transgender identities: creating one (1) transgender character and making that character a villain. This is why I was hesitant about reading this book.

Context 3: I read a lot of books. I believe that you do not need to agree with someone to read what they have to say. If we agreed with everyone we read, we would not read in a way that expands our minds and adds nuance to our own views. Do I also fundamentally believe that we should not financially support nor enable those who are racist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic, and who use their platforms to spread hatred? Yes, I believe this strongly. I also believe that all of us are racist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic, and many other things we’ve been trained by society to be (there are, of course, significant degrees within this). Yet, I believe we are capable of growth, of learning, of compassion with each other and with ourselves. While JK Rowling’s comments and what I had heard about this book made me uncomfortable, I was still open to reading it. I recognize that this is, in big part, because I was not as hurt by her comments as others must have been.

Context 4: This book does not seem to include a transgender character. The serial killer turns out to be a relatively minor character (compared to my expectations for his role). He is not transgender. He is always masculine gendered. He occasionally dresses as a woman in order to approach women in a non-threatening way, in the process of kidnapping them. He is presented as smart, strategic, and an advanced planner, and his women’s garments are described as part of that strategy and not part of his identity (although, now I’m wondering whether JK Rowling thinks this does mean the character is transgender??) Dennis Creed also fools others beyond his victims with his occasional disguises used when kidnapping women. A bystander in the case Robin and Strike investigate does not intervene nor call the police when she sees two women struggling in the street, unlike how she might if she saw an assumed “man” struggling with an assumed “woman.” Yes, this serial killer’s attack strategy seems to connect to gender assumptions we make about others, and there’s the possibility that this portrayal of a man dressing as a woman in order to attack women could be interpreted as complaint against allowing transgender women into female safe spaces, like bathrooms (I felt like this would be a stretch based on only the text, but I definitely wonder given Rowling’s larger commentary). However, I feel that if I read this book without knowing it was written by JK Rowling, I wouldn’t have found anything particularly objectionable in it, nor would I have thought it was commenting on transgender identity and experiences.

None of this context is to say that I condone JK Rowling’s words on Twitter in any way, shape, or form; what she said was unacceptable, hurtful, and ignorant. She ought to have apologized and then promptly educated herself. But I was surprised that this book was pigeon-holed (I felt) in its tagline. I can’t imagine that the internet uproar that the book included a transgender serial killer was the conclusion of someone who actually read the book (and I find that surface-level assumption about a book concerning in its own way—the internet loves to flock to the sensationalist version of any half-truth). I didn’t come to an easy conclusion, in spite of this, about whether I ought to condone the book itself. JK Rowling’s comments made me not want to support her financially by buying the book, nor emotionally by reading it and spending my time on it.

Moving now past this larger context and my conflicting feelings about the ethics of reading this book, I did find this book a bit underwhelming. This book is LONG (927 pages) and I felt it could have benefited from stricter editing in some places. It didn’t really feel that long, as it has an, at times, nearly chatty tone—the characters move smoothly through their lives and conversations—and it’s easy reading, easy pacing, easy to go along with. This had the effect, to me, of making the book a bit flat. Not flat in a boring way, because it was easy to read and I kept just coasting through it, but flat in an emotional way. The part that got my heart racing the most was definitely the scene when Robin, in disguise, is nearly caught by Luca Ricci when he visits his gangster father in an up-scale nursing home. I clenched my hands around the book in fear throughout this scene, feeling like Luca Ricci was walking behind me, looking at me, as he loomed near Robin. It was harrowing.

The relatability of Robin is definitely the ongoing high point of this series for me. As another thirty-year-old tall blond woman who is way more ready to prioritize career than family, it’s not hard to see myself in Robin. I love her resilience and her quiet confidence. I love her increasing conviction that she is being her true self through her work. I love her struggle against the expectations of others, when she so clearly knows herself. It’s easy for me to want to emulate her. On top of her character, her job is one that’s also easy for me to romanticize. I have always loved mysteries, spies, disguises, complex human psychology, word puzzles, and piecing together hints and evidence. I loved whooping my family members’ butts in Clue as a kid. I love traveling and anything I see as an adventure (growing up, I was a huge dare devil—throwing myself off high dives, picking the scariest rides at amusement parks—until I got hurt a lot as a teenager and mellowed out some). I was definitely driven to romanticize some of these activities because my parents and sister were all deeply afraid of heights, which I found funny. Robin’s professional driving skills is about all it took for me to gasp aloud in awe and admiration. (I’d be lying if I said I haven’t imagined myself as Robin when I’m driving my Toyota Corolla, which is not a glamorous car, but mine is a glamorous COLOR, which is why I picked it). Robin has an awesome job, and she tackles it with grace, and the more strength she assembles, the more self-conviction, the more I love and admire her.

Robin and Strike’s characters are going through one of the slowest slow burns I’ve ever read in a book series. And, while I love a good slow-burn romance, I definitely have some mixed feelings about this one. Item 1: Earlier on in the series, I didn’t want Robin’s character to have a romantic plot line with Strike because of all the cool other things going on with her character development. I think I’m over that, especially in this book, because it’s increasingly clear here how well Robin and Strike’s particularities complement each other. Item 2: Are they better as friends? This seems to be the big central question of this book. They’ve gotten much better at expressing how much they mean to each other. Strike tells Robin that she’s his best friend (this was a great scene) and Robin’s confidence grows through understanding how central she is to functioning of the agency. She learns more about how she needs to operate differently than Strike as a leader within this space (yay for the scene where Morris is fired!) She both emulates and admires Strike, but also increasingly carves her own path. She doesn’t need to equalize their relationship, but she does need to equalize them in the eyes of others, and we see that characters from Morris to the unbearable C.B. Oakden undermine Robin’s equality by focusing on her relative youth and her gender. Would a romance between Robin and Strike reverse some of their own productive effort to equalize their relationship? This seems to be something both characters fear, as well. I do love seeing these two characters grow together—it seems like they’re working out each other’s love languages, understanding how best to express the other’s worth and their own care for each other in a way that is understood and appreciated by them both (there’s a big growth between Strike getting Robin flowers for her 29th birthday and taking her for drinks at the Ritz for her 30th). And this growth actually seems to form the backbone of the novel.

Is this, though, a relationship growth that is inherently romantic? The line seems to be slipping closer and closer to “yes.” I find loving platonic friendships to be very rewarding and very worth examining in literature, and I love a good slow burn, but something about the inconclusive status of this relationship is starting to wear on me. I think I wish it would either settle on the platonic side clearly, so we could explore the interesting things about that space, or progress on the romantic side, which has been a long time coming. I think part of my frustration here is that the growth of this relationship is, as I’ve said, the true arc of this novel. The change in these characters IS the arc because there’s not another one, and I think this deficiency contributes to the flatness of this book for me.

My favorite of the five Cormoran Strike books was number four, so I do think part of the anticlimactic feel of this firth book was the experience of reading this following book 4. Lethal White, as explained in my post on this book from a few years back, felt like it blazed new ground to me, in terms of what a murder mystery novel could do and be, and how it could unfold. I had a lot of sympathy for that murderer. The reveal was not about cracking the case, so much as it was about understanding human experience and context. Trouble Blood, though, felt reminiscent of book 2 as a narrative arc. I wasn’t particularly engaged by the reveal of the murderer—What was new about this character as the murderer? What could this show or explore? These felt like dead end questions to me. I was also confused by this character’s acceptance of their upcoming very public trial when they had so successfully enjoyed satisfaction from the shadows for decades. Their motivations, too, seemed under-explored, put aside as the fanatic behavior of one person when it seemed there could perhaps be threads to comment on there. The emotional arc between Robin and Strike didn’t seem particularly interwoven with their systematic solving of this cold case. Therefore, the joy of this plot had to be in the reveal itself, in the unspooling of the mystery…and this one just didn’t do it for me. I know the bar is high—from The Cuckoo’s Calling onward, we knew Robert Galbraith could spin a tightly woven tale—but what’s the point if all that this is is tightly (well, no longer so tightly) woven plot?

Robin feels an emotional connection with Margot Bamborough and I think we’re asked by the book to care about her, an ambitious woman who worked toward her dreams only to have these cut short, but she just never seemed that vivid to me. Less vivid than say Pat, the opinionated office secretary who I liked a lot. The best of the book was in the subtleties—Pat’s change of heart about Strike, Strike’s relationship with Joan as she’s dying, Strike fully letting go of his emotional ties to Charlotte (I guess that was something we really needed to see happen, him letting her go and actually changing his phone number), and Robin and Strike’s conversation where they affirm their best friend status (very wholesome). Overall, I wanted more from this book. It felt very realistic, very “slice of life,” but I’m not sure we come to the murder mystery genre for realism (more drama please!) But the book was nevertheless enjoyable, in a smooth way, like a story a friend tells you—easy to hear and to internalize, with two main characters you want to root for, but more out of familiarity and habit than because of what’s at stake for them in Troubled Blood.

#troubled blood #robert galbraith #jk rowling #TW: transphobia is mentioned/discussed #book reviews #cormoran strike #robin ellacott #robin ellacott: the reason I'm still reading these books #sixth book of 2021

[cavity-core]

Satisfying Salad

Chapter Six

I post a lot of different stuff that is totally consumable for minors, but this space is not intended for minors, so if you fall in that category, please navigate it responsibly and respectfully... on that note.. keep scrolling to the next post kids. ^ ^

Despite the tag, this is not Kaebedo, I’m shipping Kaeya with the Fellflower because I’m an absolute psychopath... I call it crack but it’s my otp idk what’s wrong with me, cryo sugoi.

It is still updating but you can read the full fic here.

I keep forgetting to keep posting here. I just posted chapter 8 though so I finally remembered 🎉

Last night had been hectic and disorienting for Subject Three. He remembered passing out on Kaeya’s bed, nestled against the thick duvet, but he’d woken up in a bush. As tempting as it had been to burrow into the ground right there for a nap, there was no way he could do that! His master sent him to take Albedo’s place in Mondstadt, and even if he’d messed up a little he couldn’t just go back to Dragonspine already.

Walking on his stupid human legs was so slow, but luckily he wasn’t in Mondstadt and he wasn’t under cover, so he was free to burrow into the ground and dig his way back to the city. Being able to take root and expel the alcohol from his body, as well as just being able to feel the dirt all around him made him feel infinitely better, he was ready to take this mission on again with gusto!

The only problem was… he didn’t have his clothes. As far as he knew, they were still with Kaeya. Captain Kaeya… he definitely wanted to see him again— oh, but he knew of Subject Three’s real identity. He helped hide it from the alchemy bench man though, so maybe it didn’t bother him! Subject Three could be just as good as any dumb human or homonculus!

Getting into the actual city without his human disguise was much harder, but he was well equipped to take on the challenge. Although the average WhopperFlower lacked the ability to change much beyond its corolla while its body remained hidden beneath the ground, his master’s alchemic intervention had done more than alter his appearance to that of a human, but rather it had made his entire body more malleable to disguises so to speak. Not only did it allow him to mimic with his entire body but he was not limited by size… within reason anyway; the greater the difference in size, the more taxing it was on his body, as he had so aptly shown last night while drunk.

Smaller was easier than bigger, but everything took practice. The crystal flies that had been drifting around him when he’d awoken served as excellent inspiration to float gently over the bridge and up, up over the wall, never arousing any suspicion as such a harmless creature. It was convenient both as a means of getting inside but also as a means of taking in his surroundings.

Maybe it was because subconsciously he was already looking for him, but as Subject Three fluttered over the red coloured rooves toward the square, he picked out Kaeya stumbling away from the Angel’s Share. His first thought was that perhaps he had gotten injured somehow, after all Subject Three had also woken up sore and disheveled, but it was also possible that Kaeya was affected by the same kind of drink as everyone else in the tavern. Either way, he needed to get back inside the apartment to retrieve his clothes in order to continue his mission.

Remaining safely up in the air, far above Kaeya’s head, he followed him right back to his building again. Unfortunately, there was no way he’d make it down in time to follow him through the door now, so his only other option was to search for an open window. Circling the building was proving to be a fruitless endeavour until a pair of shutters suddenly flew open, and low and behold it was Kaeya’s room on the other side. Frankly, Subject Three was a prodigy, his master clearly couldn’t have chosen a WhopperFlower more geniusly gifted in the art of infiltration.

He only had to perch on the flower box for a couple of minutes before Kaeya had shucked off a few layers and collapsed onto the bed… which was actually a problem, Subject Three noted as he entered the room and resumed his usual form, because his clothes were on the bed… under Kaeya. Retrieving them was out of the question, Kaeya was too heavy to pull them out from without waking him… Subject Three knew this for sure because he had already tried, resulting only in the whopper skittering under the bed when Kaeya groaned and shifted.

This wasn’t about to stop him though, he had already devised another, equally brilliant plan: There was a large, potted plant on the floor near the bedroom door, inside it was a big plant with fanning leaves. Easy. He slunk out from beneath the bed frame and reached up with his leafy appendages to take hold of it by the base and rip it free. It took much of the dirt with it so he did his best to shake most of it back into the pot before hopping back to the window and chucking it out.

Phase one had been executed perfectly. The real plant was gone and Kaeya was still fast asleep! Now was the easy part, hopping into the pot and nestling himself into the soil to take the form of the evicted plant and wait. Once Kaeya woke up and left the building, he could hop back out, grab his clothes and… … he.. didn’t think any farther ahead than that. This soil was very comfortable though and the size of the pot was actually pretty cozy, before long Subject Three had dozed off as well.

It might have been better for his initial plan if all the ruckus of Kaeya waking up in the morning hadn’t roused him and he’d remained quiet when he was called out. Unfortunately, it turned out that Subject Three had not been thorough enough with his disposal of the other plant. The floor was dirty and the plant was right there outside the window, all Kaeya had to do was look down! Foolish mistake after foolish mistake were what got him caught the first time, and this time was no different it seemed. Should he take his punishment and just return to his master in Dragonspine after all, accepting his failure?

Kaeya’s reaction didn’t seem aggressive though, he didn’t sound angry… he sounded more or less the same as usual. Maybe he really wasn’t that bothered about Subject Three’s identity, maybe Subject Three had already gone above and beyond and found an ally. Ignoring Kaeya’s objections, he dropped his disguise, wriggled free of the potting soil, and hopped out of the pot, nuzzling up to his leg with a soft squeak. Even without the drink from last night, he was still getting that weird feeling of wanting to be physically close to the human.

The feeling of Kaeya’s hands on him again made his skin prickle… but in a good way, making Subject Three squirm a little in his grasp. Kaeya also said he was allowed to continue his mission! Even though Kaeya didn’t think his master would be coming back… but that was the next step.. so he had to.

“Let’s clean you off then,” Kaeya sighed, carrying him towards a different room of the apartment.

As a mimic, Subject Three was sensitive to minute changes in demeanour and something about Kaeya seemed softer today. Both his tone and his motions as he cleaned and watered Subject Three, adjusting the temperature to his preference and drying him off in a plush blanket that smelled like Kaeya. Obviously he couldn’t burrow into it, but he could try.

When they were done, he was placed on the bed with his discarded clothes from last night while Kaeya cleaned up the floor then left, albeit awkwardly, to clean himself off next. Unfortunately, Subject Three still didn’t know how to put on any of these clothes. He did resume his mimicked form of Subject One and kind of picked up some of the garments, but he didn’t even want to wear all these stupid clothes again! He hated every single piece and still remained at a loss on how to wear any of them right up until Kaeya reappeared… in nothing but the towel Subject Three had dried off in.

Even last night Kaeya hadn’t fully undressed. He had never seen Kaeya fully naked, he noted, staring down at the towel while he was interrogated about his undressed state. How strange that he wanted to see… Subject Three watched intently as Kaeya moved about the room collecting his clothes, but to the whopper’s dismay he disappeared briefly into the bathroom before returning again, clothed.

Again, Kaeya was gentle, despite some frustration creeping into his tone when Subject Three voiced his disdain. In the end, Kaeya pulled every layer back onto him and he was once again stuck in Albedo’s stupid, stifling cloth prison of sensory despair. On the bright side, he was heading back to his mission despite his short comings, alongside Kaeya… but… no matter how close he walked to the knight, Kaeya never put his hand on him again the whole way there. Last night Subject Three had been tense to his touches, but today he was starved for them.

The walk this time was made in silence, only interrupted when brief greetings had to be exchanged with the humans milling about their morning business. Kaeya’s pace was brisk, challenging for Subject Three to match on his shorter legs and leaving him a little out of breath by the time they reached the Knights of Favonius headquarters. Learning to walk in this body was hard enough, but keeping up with Kaeya really put his skills to work.

When the two arrived inside, there were already people in the main hall. One of them was the blonde woman from yesterday, the other was a woman who Subject Three hadn’t seen before. She was also tall, and looked even taller with her big purple hat. He was sure thankful he didn’t have have to wear a hat. They both turned as the doors opened. “Ah, there he is,” the unfamiliar woman said, folding her arms. “You see? You worry far too much.”

“Were you looking for us?” Kaeya asked putting a hand on his hip. “I was running a bit late this morning, I certainly didn’t mean to make the Acting Grand Master worried on my behalf.~”

“Albedo” nodded. “Sorry, we were busy,” he agreed. He could also help Kaeya cover up why they were late!

The woman in the big hat raised her eyes brows, lifting a hand to not so subtly hide her smile. “Ohhh.”

Kaeya turned to Subject Three with a slightly tight smile. “Why don’t you head to your lab now?”

“Albedo” nodded obediently and scurried up to his office to… probably hide for the rest of the day, or so he’d planned anyway.

After pacing around the room, pulling the books off the shelf, opening them, failing to make sense of the scribbles and dropping them on the floor, staring out the window, sitting at the desk, sitting on the floor, staring out the window while sitting at the desk, and poking at some of the more dangerous looking items in the room for a while, he was starting to get antsy. Staying cooped up in this room just didn’t work for him. For the most part, whatever his master had done to better placate him had accomplished its purpose quite well, although he had some adverse reactions to certain parts of coexisting with humans, he didn’t feel such a strong urge to lash out and was generally level headed enough to reason… but spending time in this room felt like it was just undoing it all.

In the end, Subject Three decided it would be best for him to do as his master instructed and take a walk out to the alchemy bench; and so, leaving the office much messier than he’d found it, he headed down the stairs and back out the doors, walking along the stone roads towards the square. As expected, standing at the alchemy bench was the plain looking man.

For a while Subject Three just stood near the railing overlooking the square, as he pondered whether the office had left him in an appropriate mental state to handle whatever conversation he’d be dragged into if he approached the bench. Still… could he really just loiter around up here? Aside from looking suspicious, he’d probably be noticed sooner or later anyway if he continued to just stand around like this. Eventually, Subject Three made the executive decision to bite the proverbial bullet and make his way around to the stairs.

Mr. Alchemy Bench hadn’t noticed him yet when he’d first descended near the building across from him, the one that smelled of food, busy talking to a lady human who was also standing at the bench. They were the least of what held Subject Three’s attention now though as walking up from the entrance were a trio of familiar faces; his master had returned! Strangely though… the one he was accompanied by was Subject One, Albedo, and he was no longer donning the appearance of the Chief Alchemist himself. Presently, he was a tall man with brown hair, long enough to be pulled back in a short pony tail; it made no difference of course, Subject Three could recognize his master right away— and that child! That was the little human he took before!

How strange, as far as Subject Three knew, this wasn’t exactly how his master had described the next stage of their plan playing out. Well, he would just have to ask him! The breath he drew to call out was cut short though when he was suddenly grabbed, one hand over his mouth and the other around his waist, yanking him back around the side of the building and out of sight- and no doubt getting a nasty ice burn in the process. After a pained hiss following Subject Three’s adverse cryo reaction to being grabbed so suddenly came Kaeya’s voice in a low whisper. “Easy now… come with me.”

Obviously Subject Three struggled, his master was back which meant their plan was supposed to move forward to the next stage… whatever that was. He needed to tell him how he’d done as he was told, without even attacking anyone!

“If you rush in now you’ll only get yourself caught… maybe even killed,~” Kaeya pointed out. “It would certainly look strange if there were suddenly two Albedos in the square, wouldn’t it?”

Subject Three finally relaxed a little in Kaeya’s hold, causing the grip on him to slacken slightly in turn. He raise a hand to pull Kaeya’s off his face. “But my master is back,” he explained.

“Your master,” Kaeya reiterated, arching a brow down at him as he tugged him further behind the building lest the trio spot them on their way to the stairs. “Do you mean to tell me that Albedo is a fake as well?”

The mimic frowned a little, shaking his head and fully turning to Kaeya now that the grip on him was loose enough. It was probably only to ensure he didn’t try to run off, but Subject Three revelled in the continued contact of Kaeya’s hand on his waist nonetheless. “That isn’t my master, the tall man with them is.”

Kaeya seemed surprised, granted Subject Three was surprised to see his master looking that way as well. “Isn’t that Joel’s father?”

“Who’s Joel?”

“The young boy with them-… his father went missing on Dragonspine while looking for the summit, he was presumed dead,” Kaeya explained.

“I don’t know about that,” Subject Three replied. “I just know that’s my master, and that’s the little human I got in trouble for taking.”

Kaeya frowned pensively. “Albedo is back and your master has a new identity, doesn’t that mean you’ve been discarded?”

Did it mean that? Just because his master chose a new approach didn’t mean there was no more plan though! “I still have to talk to him,” Subject Three stated firmly.

“Not like this,” Kaeya said even more firmly.. successfully overruling Subject Three unfortunately. “If you’d really like to speak with that man, I can facilitate a meeting between the two of you in private.~”

Even though he wasn’t that gung-ho on compromising, this seemed like a sensible approach to the matter as far as Subject Three could tell. “I… okay,” he conceded, not without a bit of a pout though. “When can I talk to him then?”

“Tonight perhaps, but you can’t keep standing in public like this. The Traveller and Paimon returned to Mondstadt last night as well and while I doubt those two would have stuck around long enough to still be here, I wouldn’t risk running into them if I were you,” Kaeya answered.

“I can’t go back to hiding in the office though,” the whopper pointed out.

“You can wait in my apartment then, if you promise to behave yourself.~ I’ll be back when my shift ends.”

Ah, he was allowed to keep staying with Kaeya? Subject Three perked up again at this. “Yes, I’ll be good,” he confirmed eagerly. Following instructions well meant rewards, that was how his master trained him initially… even if the reward was mostly lack of punishment. If he was good for Kaeya wouldn’t he also be rewarded though?

It was lucky that the building which Kaeya lived in was accessible via some side stairs and the street it was on was residential and out of the way, which kept them out of sight for the most part. Kaeya had accompanied him up just to unlock the door but headed back out immediately after, leaving Subject Three alone in the room. Another enclosed space he had to figure out how to deal with… but this time he couldn’t throw any books on the floor or Kaeya would be mad. Even though he wanted to please Kaeya similarly to his master, it wasn’t quite the same; he had to follow his master’s orders or he would be punished and maybe even killed, but for Kaeya it wasn’t because he was afraid of him… he just desperately craved the knight’s acknowledgement.

That being said, Subject Three needed to occupy himself in some way that wasn’t tearing apart Kaeya’s living space. The room with the comfy pot was where he was most familiar with so he decided to stay in there. Ideally he’d just get back in the pot and go to sleep, not having to be shaped like a human would be an amazing first step… but he was still stuck in these stupid clothes. He couldn’t even remember how Kaeya had removed them last night, a lot of things were fuzzy from last night actually. Kaeya had put them on for him this morning though… could he just do that backwards? He’d missed most of it but maybe he could still piece it together since it was fresh in his mind.

There was only one way to find out. Subject Three took a seat on the edge of Kaeya’s bed to begin. He distinctly remembered that the gloves and boots went on last, as he recalled being disappointed after thinking he might’ve gotten out of wearing them this time. With enough tugging at various parts, he managed to get one glove off, and using both his freed hand and his teeth he got the other off too. The gauntlets were still on but they didn’t bother him as much, just having the ability to feel with his hands was enough for now. The shoes were similar to the gloves, in that they mostly just involved pulling but he spent most of his time rolling on his back while he struggled to yank the things off, leaving him quite winded by the end.

The discarded items were launched ruthlessly off the bed, miraculously failing to hit anything but the floor. All of his struggling had even slipped his belt off his shoulder which left it sitting near his waist where it was catching on his dumb coat’s stupid decorations. Pulling didn’t do much to help the coat though, no matter which way he pulled, it remained caught on some part of his body. Eventually, he gave up, he was satisfied just being out of the boots and gloves, and frankly he was tired after all that struggling.

With a sigh, Subject Three flopped back onto the bed again, using his heels to push himself as he shimmied up to the pillows and— his coat moved! It slipped down his shoulders just like belt! He kept shuffling his body up until he was all the way on the pillows and his coat was almost at his elbows, allowing him to lift his arms out and push the whole thing, belt and all, past his hips and kick it right off the bed. Being in only his shirt and bottoms felt freeing in itself at this point, and he finally relaxed back into the pillow taking a long breath and… noticing… they smelled like Kaeya… he turned his face more towards the pillow he was laying on a breathed in again. They really smelled like Kaeya.

Scent wasn’t a sense he relied on much in his normal life, sight and touch were his primary means of experiencing the world as a WhopperFlower. Ever since he’d started his mission in Mondstadt he was much more aware of the smells around him, and there were so many different ones too in a way that just didn’t exist on Dragonspine. Last night though, the one scent he distinctly remembered was Kaeya and how he smelled when he’d carried Subject Three back from the Angel’s Share or how he’d smelled the same yet… a little bit different looming over him on the bed, sweat glistening on his body.

Even though the smell lingering on the pillows was making his face and body feel warm again, he just wanted to sink his face deeper into the pillows. Being surrounded by Kaeya’s scent like this felt so good to him, it made him feel like Kaeya was touching him again… or.. not exactly; it felt the way Kaeya’s hand had made him want to be touched more, and it made his breath shorten and his thighs squirm. The smell alone was making him hard in his pants but Kaeya wasn’t even here to help him, how was he supposed to find the same release? He couldn’t go looking for him when he wasn’t allowed to leave the apartment.

Subject Three whimpered into the pillows, reaching his own hand down to desperately palm the growing bulge between his legs, still trapped behind two layers of clothes he didn’t know how to get out of. It didn’t feel the same as when Kaeya did it, Kaeya’s motion were confident and deliberate, and felt so much better with nothing in between. He desperately needed some kind of friction but he didn’t know how to get it himself, he couldn’t grip his dick through his pants the way Kaeya had without them but he couldn’t pull his pants down past his hips without opening them and he was completely stumped on the button!

With a frustrated groan Subject Three rolled onto his stomach instead, pressing his face into the pillows with his arms tucked underneath them. From this angle, he found he could sort of squirm his hips against the duvet for some kind of stimulation but… it just wasn’t enough. Still, that didn’t stop him from trying anyway, desperate pants and whimpers muffled by Kaeya’s pillow left damp by his breaths. Despite the wetness seeping into the fabric of his tighter inner pants, his needy squirming and rutting against the mattress just wasn’t enough to relieve him.

By the time the sounds of a key clicking in the front door caught his attention, Subject Three had accomplished little else than reducing himself to a flushed, panting mess… and he was supposed to meet with his master this evening! Ah.. would Kaeya be mad at him? In the end he’d still been bad. In a feeble attempt to mask his state, the whopper rolled onto his back again and lifted his knees to squeeze his thighs shut as the bedroom door opened.

#kaebedo fic #genshin fandom #genshin impact smut #genshin fic #genshin fellflower #fellbedo #kaeya alberich #subject three #smutty fic #subject two #Dorian genshin #susbedo

[fawnideer]

Kyoutani Headcanons

Kyo is my favorite Haikyuu boy and he deserves more recognition :( so here I am @ 3am writing out all the Kyoutani headcanons I can remember lmaooo

Animals love him. Like, ALL animals: large, tiny, old, young. Kyoutani himself doesn’t know why, but he’s never really questioned it. The team finds it funny because people are so wary of Kyoutani yet animals just aren’t intimidated by him at all

A family of ducks once followed him across the street so that they could cross safely. It made the local news

He has a little sister, who’s in elementary school. She’s the polar opposite of Kyoutani- sweet, adorable, sensitive, harmless, etc., and he walks or drives her to/from school every day

Kyoutani is a surprisingly calm and quiet driver, although he does speed and it doesn’t take much for him to get road-rage

He drives his dad’s old 2003 Toyota Corolla (it’s red), and he got his license at a younger age than normal so that he could drive his sister around. He didn’t like the idea of her walking by herself to a friend’s house or to their grandparents’ house

Kyoutani’s mom passed away when he was young (around age 10). His sister was only 2, so she doesn’t remember much of their mother. But apparently, according to their dad, Kyoutani has a lot of her features

Kyoutani’s mom was black, so he’s got her curly hair and darker skin tone

Though Kyoutani won’t ever admit this, another reason why he dyed his hair was because he was tired of his dad looking at him with this odd sadness in his eyes, as if he was the embodiment of his mom

His dad has a drinking problem. It started after Kyo’s mom passed because his parents were really close and very much in love. He used to be close to his dad when he was young, but he became distant, and now he never sees him since he’s always at work

Kyoutani’s grandparents (on his mom’s side) are financially very well-off, and they help out a lot in paying for his school expenses (Aoba Johsai is a private school so it’s expensive af, but his grandparents love and support his volleyball dreams)

Kyoutani and his fam live in a small house in a run-down neighborhood. This is part of the reason why he always looks so scary, because as a kid he thought that the older neighborhood kids were terrifying delinquents who would beat him up if he didn’t look intimidating enough

His dog is a shepherd mutt and her name is Bella. Kyoutani talks to her (and all animas) in a gentle, quiet little voice that is very out-of-character for him

Sometimes his dad gets violent when he drinks too much (though this rarely happens because he is rarely home from work). Kyoutani sends his sister to their grandparents’ house for the night to keep her safe

Kyoutani hates hot weather. It makes him mad because you can only take off so many layers of clothing to try and seek relief from the heat, yet when it’s cold, you can add layer after layer and you’ll be able to warm up endlessly until you’re no longer cold

He has insomnia. When he can’t sleep, he watches volleyball films and tries to take note of certain techniques. Or, he watches long medical documentaries, because they’re so boring that they put him right to sleep

When he was a kid, he wanted a dog so bad that when he got a goldfish for a pet, he literally named it “dog”

Kyo has a thing for legs. Like, if he has a crush and said crush wears shorts it will murder him 100%

Once, on his way to school, he rescued a baby squirrel that had fallen out of a tree and put it in his jacket to keep it warm. He got to volleyball practice that morning and took it out of his jacket and Watari cried when he saw it because it was just so damn cute. Since then the team has seen him in a softer light :’)

He and Watari actually vibe pretty well, because Watari is quiet and respects his personal space and he’s got a generally calming presence. Kyoutani just feels very comfortable around him, and though he’s never said it aloud, Watari knows this because Kyo will come and stand/sit by him when the rest of the team is loud and/or getting on his nerves

He hates scarves because he hates when things touch his face, which is why his hair is short and has stayed that way. Otherwise it would get in his face and annoy the crap out of him

His favorite curse word is “fuck” but his favorite insult is “shit-bag”

When he gets overly annoyed, his legs/arms twitch and it’s impossible for him to sit still

In general he finds it hard to sit still, because staying in one place/position for so long is boring

He’s horrible at writing and spelling and he isn’t too great math, but he understands science fairly well, especially physics

Once his respect is earned, he’ll stay loyal until his trust is broken. If you break his trust, it will be nearly impossible to gain it back

He’s stubborn as shit, except when it comes to his little sister because he’s whipped for her and he’d do almost anything she asked

In grade school he really liked playing with clay in art class (because it’s squishy and he gets to smash it, duh), and he’d always bring home the clay animal sculptures he’d made to show his dad. His dad kept them all, and they all sit on a shelf in the living room. Kyo finds this incredibly embarrassing, but he doesn’t have the guts to tell his dad to move them

He doesn’t use his phone much, except when he wants a distraction or when he wants people to avoid talking to him. His texts are simple and he uses lots of abbreviations to hide the face that he can’t spell for shit (example: “r u comin 2 practice”, “tht suckd”, “u = shit”)

Kyoutani is surprisingly good at fixing gadgety things and untying complicated knots. The smaller the task or issue is, the easier it is for him to figure out- like, smaller knots are less frustrating to untie than bigass ones

He hates long distance running, he’d rather run sprints. However, he prefers lifting weights as his form of working out because Iwaizumi lifts weights duh

Contrary to popular belief (since Kyo is a lil punk), Kyoutani doesn’t listen to screamo or heavy metal. In fact, he kinda hates it because he doesn’t like having someone yelling directly in his ears. That shit’s stressful and just makes him a n g e r y

He’s ambidextrous but prefers using his left hand. Unless he’s with other people, then he uses his right hand (he doesn’t know why, it’s just what he does)

When he blushes, you can barely see it on his face, and his expression doesn’t really change all that much, but his ears turn bright red and it’s super cute (but don’t tell him that or he’ll figuratively kick ur ass)

....aaaand that’s it :) I might add to this or make another list later on because my brain is literally like KYOUTANIKYOUTANIKYOUTANI all the fucking time

#kyoutani #kyoutani kentarou #kyotani kentaro #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #kyoutani is the best boy and i love him a lot #aoba jōsai #aoba johsai #seijoh #seijou #anime #animals #kyotani #kyouhaba #character #character study #character development #mad dog #haikyuu manga #watari shinji #watari #haikyuu s4

[mitigatedchaos]

More Thinking on Golf Carts

(1,800 words, ~8 minutes)

The humble golf cart could be the future of American personal transport.

Cities

The most basic nature of the human settlement is formed through its relationships between time, energy, and space. With energy we can control travel time, and thus access to space. We should envision cities as a pool of destinations accessible per unit time. The spacing between these destinations is determined by travel speed.

The number of accessible destinations reachable in a given time in an area can be roughly modeled as...

[network penetration] × [area density] × π × [transit speed]2

Due to the fragile nature of the human body, each increase in speed requires an increase in space. Apparently, the average driver hits the brakes after around 2.3 seconds. At 20 km/h, the vehicle will have moved around 12-13 meters before that happens. At 60 km/h, 38 meters. At 120 km/h, around 77 meters. As a vehicle becomes faster, it requires greater padding both in itself (to protect passengers) and in the environment (to protect others). This can be in the form of rules or procedures, but it can also be in the form of physical buffers, grade separation, signaling equipment, and so on. We can also constrain the freedom of motion of the vehicle, such as putting it on tracks, reducing the amount of information that others have to process to safely avoid it.

The padding takes the form of space, but it also takes the form of time, because it's largely about acceleration. (This suggests a theoretical maximum density of human development.)

But let's set the full discussion of my theory of city network power aside for now.

Density Considerations

Suppose a car travels at 60 km/h (~37 mph, the average US car speed) and has point-to-point access to an American suburb with a density of 700 persons per square kilometer.

In 15 minutes, the car could travel 15 kilometers. During this time it can go anywhere within that radius, for a total accessible area of about 706 km2. Let us imagine that destinations are directly proportional to population, and that the population is uniform. The car can reach about 495,000 destination... units, or 33,000 per minute. (In practice, it won't hit the average of 37 mph unless it reaches the highway, which it won't do in one minute.)

The typical walking speed is about 5 km/h (~3.1 mph). A pedestrian's 15 minute range is around 4.9 km2. As it happens, there are American university campuses of this size, with on-site restaurants, gyms, and other amenities, with parking decks around the edges. If destinations are proportional to population, we'll need to pack around 101,000 people into the area to equal the suburb.

Note that this doesn't include public transit. Even a New York City bus trundling along at 7 mph (~11 km/h) is twice as fast as a pedestrian, for about 21,000 residents / km2 - not far off the density of some parts of New York.

A bicyclist without much training can (apparently) achieve an average of 20 km/h (~12 mph). This is 4 times faster than a pedestrian. If we take that as around 78 km2, we get roughly 6,350 residents / km2.

Golf cart maximum speed is 32 km/h (~20 mph), giving us a range of 201 km2. That makes for a density of around 2,470 residents / km2, which we'll round up to 2,500.

How tall is that?

Assume each resident requires 80 m2 of space, and 35% of land area is dedicated to residential construction (350,000 m2 for each km2). The heights are then:

0.16 stories for cars.

23 stories for pedestrian-only.

4.8 stories for New York buses.

1.45 stories for bikes.

0.56 stories for carts.

Any number below 1.0 means we can (potentially) build a yard on the lot (if it isn't taken up by parking). Multiply by 2 to divide the lot in half by building taller. (If you've noticed European cities with lots of 3-story buildings, well, that makes sense.)

Golf Carts

Both The Villages in Florida and Peachtree City in Georgia are golf-cart-oriented communities. Peachtree City has "multi-use paths" mandated throughout. These paths wind through scenic forest and reach from subdivisions to stores, restaurants, schools, and other locations throughout the town. Look in on the parking lots from Google StreetView and Maps, however - they seem to be dominated by full-size cars, with only a handful of carts in any given lot. The Villages, a retirement community, does better in terms of the number of carts, but still has plenty of sprawling parking lot despite its wide-reaching cart path network. Why?

Simply put, these are largely conventional developments that have been equipped with a thorough, but auxiliary, golf cart network. Peachtree City has a median household income of $93,000, 66% above the statewide median, and The Villages is an extension of the retirement village golf course concept elevated to a new scale.

The parking lots aren't filled with golf carts because the developments aren't dense enough. In order to have the same number of destinations reachable per unit travel time by golf cart, they would have be about four times the density - around that 2,500 number we proposed earlier.

If we do this the carts may start to become a real traffic issue for each other. With the smaller size and slower speed of the carts, however, one lane's width of conventional road supports roughly twice as many golf carts, so road land use can be allocated to 1/3rd "Micro-mobility Path" (to be shared with bikes, e-scooters, etc) and 2/3rds conventional road.

The shorter length makes a difference much more for parking than it does on the road. A Toyota Corolla covers a minimum of ~8.27 m2, while a Yamaha Drive 2 golf cart covers around 2.87 m2, a factor of almost 2.9x smaller.

Is it walkable?

Golf carts move about six times faster than pedestrians. Cars move around 12 (average) to 24 (highway) times faster. A medium speed for a horse is apparently around 10-17 mph (~3-5.5 times faster). Golf cart and bicycle-oriented development is therefore more analogous to the speed of a horse than it is to the speed of a pedestrian or a car, even though everyone becomes a pedestrian at either the beginning or end of their journey.

...but this isn't necessarily the wrong approach. A town in which every resident has their own personal horse, cowboy hat, and six-shooter is very American in scale. It's also a suitable scale for bicycles.

You might have noticed that in some U.S. cities with high housing demand, there's some new construction going on in a more "New Urbanist" style, with townhomes being built with walking access to small stores or a grocery store. Their streets and parking lots are still scaled to automobile traffic, however, and actually reaching that grocery store from the center of the development might require walking one kilometer and crossing four lanes of loud, full-scale traffic. The small amount of groceries that can be carried on foot require more frequent trips. Most Americans would probably choose to take the car, as cargo bikes aren't really a thing in America (though they should be) and don't have much room for kids. Of course, if the grocery store is on the same side of the road, this is all easier.

...but if the New Urbanists are seeking to build old forms from the America that existed before the automobile, they may unintentionally be implicitly building for the power, mass, speed, mobility, and scale... of the horse. (And also the locomotive.)

Since there is a vehicle that roughly matches that description (the golf cart), and the modifications required would be relatively small (widening of sidewalks into multi-use paths, addition of golf cart lanes to roads, or similar measures), they would make an excellent choice to retrofit. And if we're building for golf carts, we're also building for bicycles, electric bikes, pedal quadricycles, electric scooters, and similar very light and comparatively slow vehicles, as long as we're willing to throw in some small bike and electric infrastructure.

Cars

If you've been following so far, then you probably understand why Americans love cars. They have extremely high network penetration. They have extremely high speed. This allows either tremendous utilization of space or enormous compression of destinations per unit time. They're air conditioned, armored, weaponizable, and just highly mobile in general.

They also get stuck in traffic.

Anyhow, with a car of your own you can go almost anywhere you want in a city, without asking other people, having to wait for public transit with public transit schedule and reliability, or needing to share your bubble of space with loud people. It's a lot of freedom, despite the costs that come with it.

Though slower and with a shorter range, golf carts offer similar radical personal powered point-to-point mobility. A cart-based community should also offer pockets of sufficient density for public transit and cart-based park & ride - residential development will be on the interior of blocks, while businesses will be on the exterior, which makes not having a cart or bike at the destination not as big a deal for commuting.

There is one other matter to deal with.

I like this has lockable doors, my biggest issue with bikes is they get stolen all the time.

- YouTube comment on a video for Veemo, an electric-assist cab bike

It might be more common than you think.

"We should make it so people don't need bikes as much to get around so it won't matter as much when they're stolen," or "if people were more secure in their income, they wouldn't feel a need to steal bikes," or "it's your fault for not properly locking up your bicycle" are not going to cut it. If you want the environmental benefits of the biking, the scooting, the golf carting, the accompanying density and decrease in infrastructure volume, and the reduction in fuel usage (and therefore CO2 emissions), you must arrest and prosecute bike thieves, and you must arrest and prosecute cart thieves.

Government programs such as drug clinics to keep addicts off the streets and job assistance for the poor are compatible with this transit mode, but people must be confident that their bicycles, quadricycles, e-scooters, and golf carts will not be stolen. If they are not confident of this, they will mouth all the correct words to you, then either move to some place where the median household income is $93k and the population density is 550/km2, or just use a car.

The ones that won't are the ones that can't, and are those who are the least able to afford losing their vehicle - the poor.

We can make security mechanisms a part of our transit strategy, such as locking bikestands, or custom keys for golf carts, and registration at city hall for all these vehicles, but all of these micromobility options are inherently lower security than cars, and crime within the town must be handled accordingly.

TL;DR

Math regarding density and speed of transit suggests that a town with the density of 2,500 residents / km2, multiple times the density of U.S. suburbs (with numbers like 500 / km2 or 700 / km2) could be economically viable, if it had a second transport network based on golf carts, bicycles, e-scooters, and so on. This level of density would allow each resident to have a yard and maintain the car-like point-to-point mobility, despite lower use of resources and space.

#concrete and steel #urban planning #urbanism #misneyland #longpost #long post #effortport #mitigated future