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megamindsecretlair · 4 months ago

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A Taste of the Divine - Chapter 1

Masterlist Chapter 2

Pairing: Yakuza!True Form!Sukuna x Black!Fem!reader/plus size reader

Warnings: 18+ only. MINORS DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. slow burn. Monster fuckers unite. Dark elements. Kidnapped reader. Cursing, graphic depictions of violence, implied violence against women but not shown, mentions of blood and gore, Sukuna is aroused by violence. Sorry if I missed others.

Summary: Sukuna is the feared leader of the Itadori clan. There are rumors that he uses a pet beast to get rid of his enemies. Nothing but rooms and locations full of blood and body parts. He happens about a group of men who dared to cross his territory without permission. When Sukuna runs across you, he suddenly finds himself unable to kill you. Not until he figures out who you are and why you were so important as to get kidnapped. He takes over being your captor, whisking you away to his property, where he proceeds to play with his food.

AO3 Link

Word count: 5,763k

A/N: Could not get this idea out of my head to save my life. I hope you enjoy. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, reblog, or unhinged ask.

Taglist: @westside-rot @00aijia00 @amethyst09 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide @browngirldominion @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @harmshake @judymfmoody @multiversefanfics @tvchi @twocentuar @umber-cinders @chaos-4baby @soft-persephone

Rain beat against the windows in a steady stream. Cold, neon lights shone in a haze just beyond, painting the sides of the building sunset purple and cerulean. Ads played lazily on the billboards, reminding people that even while sleeping, it was never too late to buy.

Rival clan Kamo had members holed up in a shithole penthouse apartment, awaiting the signal for when they could move. They spent the first few days playing cards and board games. They were strictly forbidden from turning on their phones. From going outside. From doing anything fucking fun.

Yet, after a few days when they were tired of talking to each other, it was only a matter of time before someone broke the rules. There were only four of them. Each low tier members of the Kamo clan, some not even worthy of the association.

They were a low-key crew, handling situations that required stealth and finesse. Like babysitting a sweet little morsel tied up in the bathroom. They were instructed not to talk to you, touch you, or breathe in your direction.

Days passed and the men’s eyes lingered a beat too long, licking their lips as their thoughts ran away on their face, or rubbing their hands together as if they could imagine what your skin would feel like.

While on mission, they used no names. So instead, they numbered themselves. One, the leader, was bald with a stern frown permanently etched onto his face. He currently held the biggest pot of money on his side of the table, flipping through cards with masterful precision.

Three was to his right, a man with long hair that reached well past his shoulders. It was swept back into a half ponytail, the rest running down his back like a black river. Two was next, a shifty and nervous sort of man who couldn’t sit still longer than a minute. Eyes were always on a swivel around the room, looking for potential threats.

Though if Four had anything to say about it, he’d say that Two was snorting the White Dragon and they were left to suffer through it. Four held the worst hand with his cards, but he kept his face neutral. He could bluff with the likes of Three, but One might see through him.

A thump on the roof made them all look up. All except for One who continued to stare at his cards. Two sat up in his seat, moaning and chewing on his nails. He shook his head back and forth, getting more agitated by the minute.

“I told you we should have checked. This doesn’t feel right,” Two said.

Three sighed and rolled his eyes. “You say that about every drop of water that hits the roof.”

Two shook his head once more. “That wasn’t a raindrop,” he said and pointed to the ceiling. Four looked at him, annoyed. This mission was freaky enough without the ghost stories. He took a swig of his whiskey, following the burn down his chest since it was the first interesting thing tonight.

He stood up, getting ready for Two’s freakout to overtake the night. First it was the bird that flew into the window. Then it was the nail he found under his mattress. He went on rants about ill omens and angering the elder gods.

“Then what was it, genius?” Three sighed, tossing down his cards because he also knew that Two was just getting started. A crackle from the lit fireplace drew Four’s attention. He stared at it and briefly wondered if dying by fire was worth the pain.

“We’re too close to his border. How sure are you that this is on our side?” Two asked.

One leaned back from the table, tossing down his cards and rolling his neck. “I know how to do my job,” One said. He folded his arms and stared straight ahead. If Four wasn’t mistaken, he was pretty sure that Four was a hidden synth. Nothing but clockwork and oil pumping through his system.

The first thing Four was going to do when the mission was over, was take his payment and go find a warm pair of legs to sleep between. Maybe this was burnout. Maybe he needed to check out that app his sister sent to him about that crap. She always thought his stress was too high. Always going on about going on walks or getting a pet or doing anything else that didn’t involve being a gangster.

Heh. He owed his baby sister a call soon. Their last conversation ended too quickly when she started talking about an asshole teacher and how Four offered to kill him. Or at least persuade him to watch his fucking mouth.

“How do you not know who Sukuna is? He’s the leader of the Itadori clan,” Two said.

Three laughed obnoxiously and clapped his hands. “Since when do you believe in fairytales? No one’s seen or heard of that made up bullshit. You really think that he has so much curse energy, that he’s lived this long? That he has a secret army of beasts who rip his enemies to shreds?” Three continued laughing, his chair creaking from Three settling into it.

Two cracked a smile and Four poured himself another drink. The first two clearly weren’t doing the job. Four moved back to the table, bored out of his skull. In fact, he should probably check on you. He wouldn’t get paid if you went on and died on him.

Instead of sitting, Four changed directions and went towards the bathroom. The penthouse was decorated in slate gray and mustard. There were expensive paintings on the paneled walls, ceramic statues of bodies twisting, imported plants from all over the world every few feet. It was a pompous, underhanded way to show that the rich could buy anything, even nature.

Four moved down the wide hallway, big enough to park a sedan in and still have room on both sides. He knocked on the door once and your answering gasp was enough confirmation that he needed. Still..,

He opened the door, turned on the light, and looked down at you. You were on your side, curled up on the plush bathroom rug like a pathetic pet. Your sweater was stained and dirty, your light colored jeans worse for wear. The tennis shoes used to be a light color, but were now so dirty that it was hard to tell. The blindfold was still secure on your face.

“You dead yet?” Four asked.

“Untie me and find out, bitch,” you spat at him.

He laughed, tempted to kick you in your fat ass stomach for that. But he doubted you’d feel it. “I’d watch that mouth of yours,” he said.

“Or else you’ll try to stick your shrimp dick in my mouth? Might take me a few tries but I’ll bite clean off if you do,” you growled.

Four laughed again and shook his head. “Never fails to make me laugh, bitch,” he said. He turned off the light and slammed the door. His anger at last getting the best of him. Stupid bitch. He had half a mind to break that reckless streak of yours. To fill your mouth so you couldn’t talk back for once.

You’d been nothing but a pain in his ass since they kidnapped you. You fought like a hellcat, scratching and biting. They had to punch you in the face a few times to knock you out and then drag your fat ass to the van. When you came to in the bathroom, you gave everyone a mouthful. And had been an annoying asshole the last few days.

Four rubbed his shoulders and walked away. He needed the money more than he needed to teach you your place. As Four walked down the hallway, he heard a series of thumps that made him falter in his steps. He looked between each of the closed doors, sealed up like a damn museum in this place.

He walked closer to one door, where he thought the thumps were coming from. He strained his hearing, awareness searching for anything out of the norm. Two and Three were still arguing in the living room but Four was too far away to hear what stage they were in. If Two was standing on the table and arguing his point or covering his ears and screaming loud over the other person.

Four opened the door he was in front of, arms up, prepared for anything to pop out. The room was dark but the window was open, letting watery moonlight shine across the carpeted floor. Looked to be some kind of guest room, all done up in cobalt blue. Four did a cursory sweep, just in case.

He turned around to the shadowy figure before him and jumped, screaming out before realizing that he faced a mirror. His heart skipped a beat as it caught up to the realization that he wasn’t in danger. He stalked closer to the mirror, chuckling as he confirmed with his eyes that he got scared by his own reflection. The other men couldn’t know this. They’d see him as weak and he couldn’t have that.

He tapped the mirror once, for extra confirmation. Two’s conspiracy theory rants were starting to get to him. Next thing he knew, there’ll be Sukuna’s pet beast right behind him. He chuckled at his own thoughts and looked at his reflection. It became darker so he leaned in, opening his mouth to look at his teeth.

The darkness kept going, almost otherworldly so, and Four felt a menacing, thick presence at his back. The aura was indescribably heavy, bowing him at the shoulders. Going lower still. He had just enough energy to turn his head and stare into a pair – no two pairs – oh god – there’s too many red eyes staring at him.

He opened his mouth to let out a scream but a slice to the neck cut it off. His hands flew to his neck, warm spray of blood soaking his fingers. There was nothing to compare to the horror of feeling the heat from your own blood outside of your body. Hands stained red and sticky. Four stared into those red eyes and his last thought was of how Two was actually fucking right this time.

One opened his eyes with a silent gasp. “We are not alone,” he said. He hopped from his seat, flying to the edge of the living room where they had abandoned the majority of their weaponry. They each held their guns at the base of their spines, tucked into their pants. But the bigger weapons lay across the table, thrown haphazardly. They had gotten too comfortable.

The menacing aura was enough to choke him but he kept his mind on the mission. This had turned from a simple kidnapping to a game of survival. No amount of money was worth this, losing his life to the boogeyman. His people had forgotten the old world. Forgotten that the myths were merely legends once upon a time.

The lights shut off as his hands closed around his semi-automatic. Two and Three finally stopped their incessant fighting and grabbed their guns. Gone was the twitching, sketchy conspiracy nut and in its place was a ruthless killer. A ruthless kobun for the Kamo clan.

Three took measured, slow steps around the room. The rain seemed to increase in intensity. But that was only because it was quiet now. The water slapped against the windows. Purple and blue neon light shone in from the windows giving them just enough light to see each other. Or see anything that may have entered the penthouse.

If they somehow found a way to survive the night, they’d have no answers on how the beast got in. How the beast found them. Or how Sukuna even knew that they were on the this side of the boundary.

One hadn’t lied. He was very good at his job. This building was right on the cusp of Sukuna’s territory but it was decidedly in Kamo’s territory. If this was Sukuna’s infamous beastie, then Sukuna was in the wrong this time. Honorless scum.

One swept through the living room, keeping his semi-automatic up and at the ready. He communicated silently with the other two. Where the hell was Four? If he was back there missing with you at a time like this, he’d kill Four himself.

He took off in your direction, intending to check and make sure that you hadn’t escaped. Reaching the door, he opened it and heard you gasp. “What’s going on?” You asked.

“Shut up,” he hissed. If you were too fucking stupid to understand what was going on, then the least you could do was shut that fucking mouth up for once. He closed the door and continued checking rooms, wondering if Four went out onto the terrace for a smoke break.

He made his way forward, the crack of a door catching his eye. He used his gun to nudge the door open, the room too dark to see much of anything. Still, something was off about this room. Some lingering aura that beckoned him even as his brain was screaming for him to turn around and run and never look back.

His boot squelched on the carpet and he looked down. His mind couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing. His mind said he was looking at a mangled hand but his eyes only saw blood. Red.

There were pieces everywhere. Half a foot. An elbow. One stepped backwards. The evil aura in this room was astounding. The rumors were true. They were actually true. Sukuna did have a beast in his employ and it was here to eat them all.

He turned and ran to the door only to be blocked by a massive arm across the doorway. The massive tree trunk sized arm split in two. Oh god. There were four arms. Red eyes crept open slowly and a wide grin split open in the middle of the beasts’ belly. The monster stood on two legs, at least seven foot tall, and it chuckled. It laughed.

“You’re far from home,” the beast said.

“You’re in Kamo’s territory. When Kamo hears about this…”

The beast chuckled and the deep rumbling laugh was like the crack of lightning outside the windows. “Who’s gonna tell him?” The beast asked.

One was no stranger to fear and he would not pretend as if he were not capable of it. But even as he trembled and gulped around the painful lump in his throat, he stared at the many-eyed beast and lifted his chin.

“Your lord has no honor,” One said. Sweat gathered at his brow, tickling his forehead and he fought the urge to wipe it away. To move.

The beast laughed again. And laughed still as he picked One up as if he weighed no more than a feather. It laughed and laughed as it took big chunks out of One, chewing on him like a snack. Blood sprayed One’s face, hot and sticky and stinging his eyes. His screams were no match to the sound of that maniacal laughter.

You

The second scream had to be the worst one. Maybe because it was coupled by the sound of bone-chilling laughter. Something cold and cruel. Your arm was killing you from laying on your side but you were finding it difficult to roll over in this bathroom.

The nauseating perfume clung to your nostrils and made it hard to breathe around its cloying scent. Why couldn’t these idiots kill you and call it a day? You hated being at their mercy. Hated the way they casually joked about slitting your throat or teaching you how to respect your betters.

Assholes. You’d be a liar if you weren’t enjoying the sounds of their screams. But at the same time, you didn’t want to meet whatever the hell that thing was. You prayed that you’d remain invisible, small, insignificant. Not worth whatever that thing’s gaze was. Surely it was some sort of vengeful god. Malevolent beast come to feast on the world.

You couldn’t draw attention to yourself. Couldn’t make a sound. In case the beast was capable of turning the knob, opposable thumbs letting you know that the beast was far scarier than previously believed, you wanted to remain on the floor. Better yet, you needed to get somewhere you could hide.

Your options were limited. There were no other sounds outside your door. You knew that you were in the bathroom so you rubbed against the floor until you could heave yourself into a sitting position. You were out of breath, but you had to keep going. Had to get into the tub.

Hell, what was worse? The silence or the screams?

You got to your feet and steadied yourself. You were woozy. It’d been too long since your last meal. Your fault. You couldn’t take your death lying down. You fought and cursed and insulted their dick sizes until you were blue in the face. They retaliated by withholding food.

You’d take that over the way they knocked you out. Hitting you like a grown man. Your jaw still stung from it. Your skin would surely be darker with a bruise the size of a fist. The way their hands wandered while they checked you for weapons, tied your hands behind your back, and shoved you into a musty van. How they laughed over your figure as they pretended to struggle with tossing you into the bathroom.

You didn’t know when they put the blindfold on but had to be when you were out cold. There was no telling what they could do while you were sleep so you learned to sleep lighter, waking up at any little sound. So far they weren’t hurting you. You couldn’t imagine why. However, you’d have to stop provoking the last guy that came in here. He was perilously close to breaking and you didn’t want to be around for it.

You felt behind you for the edge of the tub. Rich people’s apartments like these usually had a tub on one side and a shower on the other. As if it was some subconscious misogyny bullshit about women taking baths and men taking showers.

You scooted further down, tennis shoes scraping against the tile as you tried to figure out how you were going to get into the tub safely and quietly. You weren’t even sure that you’d be hidden from the door. But you had to do something. Had to try at least.

You lifted one leg and got into the tub as another blood curdling scream split the air. You were shaking with fear while at the same time feeling vindicated. Fuck those bastards. If you’d survive, you’d never take your life for granted again.

The sound of wet splatter hit the walls and you wondered briefly if a window opened somewhere. If there wasn’t rain pouring all over fancy furniture. You got your other foot into the tub and then sank to your knees, getting down into the wide tub and turned on your side.

It wasn’t perfect. And you didn’t want to think about what kind of germs you were kneeling in. But beggars couldn’t be choosers.

You waited. You jumped at every sound. Every scrape. Every knock of wood. There was a final scream as the last of your captors went silent. His screams still echoed in your ears.

Your heartbeat thumped steadily, shifting your awareness inward. You ached all over. Your shoulder was killing you. Your stomach pains twisting your insides. You had a faint ache in your foot and you weren’t sure if you sprang it during your last escape attempt.

How the hell did you end up here?

It was the question that rang through your mind every so often when you weren’t thinking about escape. How did you end up kidnapped, taken, and held against your will like this?

And the sick part? No one would know. You had a job where you set your own hours, the perfect introverted job. You didn’t have to talk to others when you didn’t want to. Didn’t have to set alarms for when you went to sleep or stayed up. You followed your body’s natural rhythm and was damn happy with your solitary life. You had friends, but they knew about your need to disappear sometimes. Go radio silent while you work on your special projects. Or pigged out in front of the TV.

So here you were, stuck between how you were going to escape or how you ended up in this position. You lived a normal life. You didn’t go out of your way to hurt others. You gave money to the homeless and smiled at the janitorial staff. You weren’t perfect, but fuck. You didn’t deserve this shit.

Thumping steps traveled down the hall and you clasped your lips shut, throat shaking with your need to cry. You needed to alert someone, anyone, to come and help you. Or at least untie you so you could have a fighting chance. How pathetic it was to die on your back, tied up, and at the beasts’ mercy.

The steps got closer. That aura. It was so intimidating. Sweat gathered on your brow, fear like icy spikes in your stomach. There was no way that you were getting out of this alive. With an aura like that, the beast could likely smell the fear on you. Lead it straight to you as if you had rang the dinner bell.

You were so stupid. You should have used your remaining time to find a way to cut through the zip ties behind your back. Found a pair of scissors or clippers. Anything to get your hands free. Ah well. Didn’t matter this time. Because whatever it was that was outside of your door, you had no way of defeating such a creature.

Sukuna

You smelled delicious. After dispensing with the four-man crew that dared cross into his territory earlier in the week while traveling to this dump, Sukuna licked blood from his lips as he shrunk down from his true form.

He hadn’t intended on striking against the Kamo clan for at least another two weeks. He’d been in the middle of his usual reconnaissance, following the habits of his enemies before pinpointing when to strike.

These four were barely worth the effort. A small time, petty offense. But the rules were the rules and he had to enforce them. He grinned, picking meat from his teeth as he thought how these idiots still haven’t figured out that there is no Sukuna’s beast. He was the beast.

He had no qualms about eating his enemies into submission. Fighting for every strip of land, every pulse of illegal activity in the country, every dollar to join his coffers. And he’d be damned if even one cockroach stepped an antenna out of line.

What he did not expect was the tasty scent of fear wafting from the bathroom. A stowaway. The imbeciles had hidden you somehow. Oh, that delicious scent. He followed it, already growing hungrier by the second.

His black suit was pasted to him, slick with the blood of the four insignificant humans. Let their people find them like this. Ripped apart, Let the rumors grow. The beast. The beast.

He approached the door and he sensed that you sensed him. Your body was shaking, teeth clacking. He could hear you through the door. He was getting harder by the minute just thinking about it. He pictured where he’d start first. If he’d bite your neck. Or somewhere he could still make you scream. He wondered what you’d sound like.

He pushed on the door and it gave way under his hand. He left a bloody handprint on the door as he swept into the dark room. His eyes adjusted to the dark, detail starting to fill in as his eyes relaxed.

There you were. Sukuna chuckled evilly as he approached. You were too damn good. Each second brought a fresh wave of fear skittering down your spine. He inhaled deeply, mouth salivating with the thought of ripping you to pieces.

You were cowed in the bathtub. Sukuna grinned wider before he really took you in. Your hands were bound behind your back. You also had a blindfold on. Your clothes were dirty and stained, a strange odor emanating from you. Your shoes looked like you’d been marched around in mud for the past few days. Your hair was wild and unkempt, riotous thick hair escaping your plaits.

His smile disappeared. You had already been kidnapped. You weren’t part of their crew. You were a victim. Sukuna’s curiosity peaked. It wasn’t every day that he ran into this situation. He was no hero. Whether lord or pauper, a tasty meal was a tasty meal. But the urge to eat you was growing fainter the longer he took in every detail he could about you.

What did you do in order to get kidnapped by these thugs? What was so special about you? You’d clearly been here a few days and you were still alive, untouched. You were important to them for a reason.

“Well?” You asked.

Sukuna was taken aback by the sound of your voice. He could smell your fear and yet…you dared to talk to him?

“Quit playing around and kill me, I don’t have all day. Or night. Whenever it is,” you huffed.

Shocked, Sukuna laughed. Hell, he hadn’t been this surprised in a millenia. “Who are you?” He asked.

“I’m a nobody. Are you going to kill me or not?” You asked.

Sukuna chuckled again, sucking blood from his finger. “Pretty eager to die,” he commented.

“Not very eager to wonder when it’s coming. The wait is the worst part,” you said.

There was a hitch in your voice. As if you were no stranger to waiting or being disappointed. Sukuna tilted his head. This was bizarre. It’d been a long time since he felt like this, interested in something other than eating at the moment. You couldn’t see him. You were right to be afraid but still had the audacity to talk to him like that.

He had half a mind to break your spine here and now. Rip your head from your shoulders. Suck the life from your heart. His fingers twitched with the insatiable need to shred. Throat burned with a hunger that never truly faded.

He stepped closer to you, stared down at your pathetic form on your side in this tub. It’d be so easy to lift his boot and crush your skull. So easy to snuff the spark of life that kept you animated.

But he found himself hesitating. Withdrawing his presence. You gasped audibly, catching your breath. It was a wonder you held out as long as you did. He’d seen people have entire heart attacks after enduring his aura for too long. But not you.

“Who are you and why did those men hold you captive?” Sukuna asked.

“I don’t know. I told you, I’m a nobody. Just an insignificant bug,” you said.

A burning in Sukuna’s chest made him want to correct you. To ensure that you’d never talk like this about yourself where he could fucking hear. He grimaced and scowled. What the hell kind of thoughts was he having?

He lifted his hand, reaching out over your form. He’d just snatch you up like he did the others. You were their victim and it wasn’t terribly your fault for crossing boundary lines with them, but well. He couldn’t let you go.

What if you talked? What if your harmless story caught on the news like wildfire, spreading, until the legend of Sukuna’s pet beast was no longer feared. The real gangsters knew. No one fucked with him or his clan and lived to tell the tale.

He had to end you right here and now. Go on and do it. Be done with it. Separate your head from your body. Again, he was unable to harm you. There were too many questions in his head. He was having fun not being the smartest person in the room at the moment.

He growled and grabbed the front of your sweater. You yelled out, kicking your legs as Sukuna lifted you higher, more at eye level with himself. You scrambled, kicking and kicking.

“Put me down!” You screamed.

Sukuna laughed. ��Aren’t you scared?” He asked.

“I’m terrified!” You yelled.

“Then how do you bark orders with the same mouth that should be begging for mercy?” He asked.

“What mercy? Go on and kill me and be done with this bullshit,” you said. You were still flailing but no longer screaming in fear.

You were fun! He scanned your body, looking for some source of trickery. Some hidden agenda. He stretched his awareness searching for a hint of your aura to reveal something that explained you. Some part of your genetic makeup, some part of your clothing or jewelry able to repel creatures like him.

Nothing. You wore nothing, you had nothing, you were nothing. And he still had questions. He wanted to know more. His thirst for knowledge was almost as large as his thirst for blood. He should want yours. But even yours smelled insignificant.

“Who are you?” He asked once more, voice soft as he regarded you. You didn’t make sense and it was driving him nuts. Driving him to the point of not wanting to solve you at all. He’d rather toss you into the nearest fire and call it a job well done.

Tonight, at least, his curiosity got the best of him. He’d figure out who you were and what you were keeping from him. Then he’d get rid of you.

“I’m nothing, a nobody,” you responded. Your lips parted and he felt a strange tug in his chest. Another weird sensation he hadn’t experienced in hundreds, if not thousands of years.

“You’re coming with me,” he growled. He half dragged, half carried you out of the room. You didn’t fight him or scream. You didn’t try to tug yourself free. You kept up as much as you were able as Sukuna left the penthouse suite of the Kamo clan. He didn’t have to worry about security cameras as he turned off power to the whole block.

Rain pelted the both of you, soaking his shirt. Rivulets of red dripped from him and disappeared into the nearest drain. He ran towards his car at the end of the block, shaking you in his haste to get to his car. His hair plastered to his face and he growled. He didn’t have enough hands to move his hair from his face.

It may be the dead of night, but that meant little to a world still guided by its misconceptions and folktales. They told themselves stories about being safe because the government told them that they were. Nevermind the fact that the pent up anxiety they pushed down, the suppressed emotions, created a legion of curses to haunt the natural world for years and years to come yet.

He couldn’t shift into his true form over hair in his eyes. Too many cameras. Too many onlookers. He pushed you into his car and you finally yelped as your shoulder hit the side of the seat.

He quickly crossed in front of the car and got in, starting it, and tearing off down the street in a whirl of tires and smoke. The sound of the windshield wipers were the only source of sound.

Sukuna kept glancing at you. At the way the streetlights and ads shone periodically across your face. It was maddening to see. And yet all you did was pant for breath. Your lips were parted again. Were you doing it on purpose? What the hell was wrong with you?

He could tell that you were still scared. Still nervous to be around him. But there was a soft acceptance in the way you didn’t mouth off or ask a million annoying questions. You were an unassuming presence beside him and it was a feeling he wasn’t used to. Couldn’t name.

It didn’t take long for Sukuna to arrive at one of his many penthouses. This one was in the dead center of the city. If his enemies got through his defenses and reached the middle of the city, well then, they deserved to take their shot at him.

He pulled into the private garage, turning off the engine and looked over at you. You licked your lips and he followed the movement, the glide of your tongue darting out from your mouth. Sukuna tore his eyes away with a scowl.

He got out of the car a little too roughly. Yanked open the passenger side door a little too harshly. Grabbing you out of the seat with too much force. He slammed you against the car as he closed his door. Then, he dragged you towards the private elevator.

No cameras. Exactly what he needed. He rode the elevator straight to his penthouse. It opened out into a spacious foyer decorated in black. He dragged you inside, growing impatient with your human body unable to keep up with his stalking gait.

He knew the perfect room to throw you in too. Sometimes Sukuna liked to play with his food.

He pushed you into the small room that had a million cameras set up inside. The room was decorated in an off white subway tile scheme. There was a bunk bed held up by chains drilled into the wall. There was a private bathroom. He found that allowing that little bit of decency made humans think he was merciful. It made betraying them that much more delicious.

You fell to the floor on top of your bad shoulder and cried out. Sukuna laughed at your pain and shut the door.

“Why won’t you kill me?!” You yelled, loud enough to be heard through the thick, reinforced door. No small feat.

Sukuna turned and looked at you through the checkered plexiglass window. He smiled, grin spreading across his face and likely making him look feral.

“The fun’s just getting started, princess,” he said. His haunting laugh echoed throughout his apartment as he left you alone for the night. Tomorrow, he’d make sure that you knew whose control you were under.

Masterlist | Chapter 2

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alarawriting · 9 months ago

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I Suddenly Found Myself In Class With Amnesia, but I'm the Teacher?!

Experimenting with trying to write in "light novel" style despite being an American who writes in English.

****

I couldn’t tell you what the last thing I remembered was, because I couldn’t tell what order any of them had happened in. Was the last thing I remembered sitting in the back of the English classroom, gossiping with Suzy and Chantel, quietly enough that our half-deaf and eighty percent dead old English teacher couldn’t hear us? What about that moment in science lab where I had a beaker and I was pouring liquid into a retort and then there was a bright light and a boom? Or could the last thing I remembered be the moment where I was crossing the street in front of the high school, and I had my head turned because I was talking to my friend Rob?

I’m a big fan of portal fantasy. English, American, Japanese, it’s all great. Someone walks through a closet and finds themselves in another world. Or they get hit by a car and they wake up in a strange place full of magic. Or they die and get reincarnated as a cute little baby. Usually in a strange place full of magic. Most of these stories involve strange places full of magic.

That might have been fun, if that had been what happened. But no. I suddenly found myself standing in front of a room full of high school students that were filing in the door and finding seats.

Was I giving a presentation? I looked around, but there was no teacher. And then I looked down at how I was dressed – a plain blue blouse with a little pleating, and a very pleated, dark blue skirt, with sensible flats like my mom might wear, and pantyhose, like I would ever wear pantyhose. And then I looked up again, at the students, who were looking at me, and I realized that while they were mostly wearing T-shirts and jeans, the colors and styles were all wrong. Lots of neon stripes, and strategic cuts, and all the sneakers were either black with fluorescent stripes of some kind, or bright colors. And several of the boys were wearing pink. And none of the hairstyles looked like anything me or my friends would be caught dead in.

I reached behind my head and found that my hair was in a bun. In the last things I could remember, my hair was in a pixie cut. Pixie cuts cannot be made into buns. Somehow time had passed that I couldn’t remember. A lot of time.

My hands looked normal. No rings. But my fingernails weren’t chewed. There wasn’t any nail polish on them, but they were neat and clean and didn’t look like fingernails I might have.

The students weren’t looking at me the way students look at other students who are up at the board to do a presentation; they were looking at me sullenly, or expectantly.

I realized then to my horror that I was the teacher here.

If I was the teacher, I absolutely could not have a panic attack, even though I felt like I was about to. I also couldn’t suddenly run off to the bathroom – in all my years of school I have never seen a teacher do that at the start of a class. Teachers always present themselves as perfectly in control, without basic human needs, or else the class senses weakness and eats them alive.

This was exactly the kind of situation you might think to yourself, I’m having a bad dream. But my feet hurt. The shoes were annoying me. I have never noticed how my shoes feel, in a dream. And I was wearing an underwire bra, which was digging into my skin under my breasts. This was not a dream; I don’t dream up those kinds of details.

So. Somehow I was the teacher. I had no idea what I was teaching. I had never wanted to be a teacher – I’d planned to be a marine biologist. A quick eyeball around the class didn’t give me any hints; it was a very, very generic classroom. I did have a whiteboard with markers instead of a chalkboard, and the students didn’t have notebooks in front of them; most of them had something that looked like a laptop monitor, except smaller and without a keyboard, like a really big cell phone. A few had pens, except they were probably styluses for writing on the laptop monitor things, somehow, because without paper I couldn’t imagine how they could use those as pens.

No one was taking out a textbook, either. Seriously, how was I supposed to even guess what I was supposed to teach?

I could run off, I thought. This wasn’t actually my real life. I wasn’t a teacher. I was a high school student. This had to be some kind of Freaky Friday craziness where I’d swapped places with a teacher, somehow.

But… that was a ridiculous idea. Whereas the idea that somehow, something had happened to my brain and I’d suddenly lost years of memory and started thinking I was still a high school student when in fact I was a grown adult teacher… was possible. Implausible, and I didn’t like the idea at all, but it was more likely to be true. And if it was true, that meant this was my real life. This was my real job. And I’d be fired if I admitted I’d suddenly had some kind of brain damage that wiped out my memories of however many years it had been since I was a high school student. Somehow I had to fake my way through this, at least long enough to figure out what was going on.

The bell had rung a minute ago. The students were, mostly, pretty quiet, looking at me expectantly. I’m sure my lack of responsiveness was starting to seem weird.

I had to do something quick.

“We’re going to do something different today, students,” I said, wondering, as I said it, if I or the person whose life I’d stolen said things like “students” to address the class. “Let’s pretend I have total amnesia. I walked into this classroom, and wow! I don’t know my name and I’ve never been here before. Write me a short essay, in your own words, about what we’ve been learning for the past couple of weeks. Fill me in! Pretend I don’t know anything!”

#im the teacher #english language light novel?#wip

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punk-baby-moved · 1 year ago

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all of the killjoy cg mood boards I made! (with photo IDs for each one which is why it's under the cut)

Party Poison mood board

[mood board ID: there are nine photos all in a grid pattern with a red, yellow, and blue gradient background.

The top three photos in order from left to right: A picture of a lizard plush with a blue body, red head, different patterned legs, different colored paws, and three different colored shapes on the body; an orange square, a red circle and a green triangle. A picture of some crayons with a bright filter over them. A fabric pattern that is rainbow blended waves with white stars over it.

middle three photos from left to right: a red kandi bracelet with the word "baby" on a white background. A picture of Party Poison, played by Gerard Way, with a white background. A red, yellow and blue kandi bracelet with yellow and red star shaped beads that says "poison".

bottom three photos from left to right: a picture of comics stored like how you would find them in a comic store. a picture of The Girl's boom box. a picture of a blanket fort lit up with fairy lights. /.End ID]

Fun Ghoul mood board

[mood board ID: same layout as the party poison mood board this time with a neon green and black gradient background.

top photos left to right: multi-color black light reactive paint splatters on a black background. Spray paint cans with multi-color black light reactive paint splatters on them. Green glow in the dark plastic bugs.

middle photos left to right: A kandi bracelet with green star shaped beads, black round flat beads with white stars on them and the word "gremlin". A picture of Fun Ghoul, played by Frank Iero, from the Na Na Na music video. A green, yellow and black kandi bracelet with black and yellow stars that says "Ghoul".

bottom photos left to right: glow in the dark stars stuck to an all black ceiling. A green black light reactive cassette tape labeled "classic UFO hunter". Blue and pink neon lights of shooting stars on the ceiling. /.End ID]

Kobra Kid mood board

[mood board ID: same format, black, red, and gold gradient background.

top photos left to right: a lot of brown/tan/clear cassette tapes in front of a red background. Someone holding a red electric guitar with stuff drawn on it with sharpie. A screen shot from the movie Mary Poppins, it's the measuring tape and it says "Extremely Stubborn and Suspicious".

middle photos left to right: an orange, red and yellow bracelet with round beads that says "Da Bomb" on a white background. A picture of Kobra Kid, played by Mikey Way, from the Na Na Na music video, it shows him sitting in the car (the trans am). a red and black kandi bracelet that says "kobra" on a tan background.

bottom photos left to right: a cut off photo of a yellow music record playing on a yellow record player. Two red converse tennis shoes with unreadable words on them with a grey background. a red, yellow, and black crocet snake plushie on a white background with a hand hoilding up the head. /.End ID]

Jet Star mood board

[mood board ID: same nine photo layout with a gold, medium blue and dark blue gradient.

top photos left to right: A blanket fort with star shaped fairy lights in it and a purple filter put over it. A corner of a bed with a star plush, a light blue night sky themed pillow, a yellow crocheted blanket and dark blue sheets with little gold stars printed on them. A line of star shaped fairly lights in a dim room.

middle photos left to right: A kandi bracelet that has silver sparkley beads, glow on the dark beads, iridescent blue beads and says "moon light" with a star shaped bead in between the two words. A photo of Jet Star, played by Ray Toro, turning their head to the side with nature, like trees, in the background. A kandi bracelet with blue and black beads as well as glow in the dark star shaped beads, the words on it are "Jet Star".

bottom photos left to right: A dark blue fuzzy blanket with shiney gold stars printed on it. Two MAM style baby pacifiers, both are blue with stars or night sky images printed on the front buttons. A lava lamp with light blue and dark blue stuff in it, gold stars are printed on the outside. /.End ID]

Show Pony mood board

[mood board ID: nine photo layout with a three different color blue gradient, ranging from medium blue to very light blue.

top photos left to right: a pair of roller skates being worn, they sparkly medium blue with sparkly green wheels, one of the skates is lifted up slightly from the heel side. A blue themed makeup pallette with blue, silver, and white eyeshadow colors. A photo of medium blue glitter.

middle photos left to right: a blue and light purple kandi bracelet with two sparkly clear star shaped beads on either side of the word "Dreamer". a picture of Show Pony, played by Ricky Rebel, skating down route guano from the beginning scene of the Na Na Na music video, the background has a blue sky and a road behind them. a bracelet with round purple and blue beads and blue star shaped beads, it says "Dream on".

bottom photos left to right: a photo of white and very light blue mini peal and glitter mix. A blue and white tiger plush from the TY Pluffies line, it had medium blue stripes, light blue base, and white cheek fluff, ears and paws. Different colored blue nail polish, top down view with all of them open and some spilled nail polish around the bottles. /.End ID]

Dr Death Defying mood board

[Mood Board ID: same layout, with a light and dark brown gradient background.

top photos left to right: an LP vinyl record playing on a brown record player. An old radio microphone that says "on the air" on it above the main part. a panel from an old comic book that shows a cartoon-y explosion with the word "boom" over it.

middle photos left to right: a green, dark brown, light brown and tan bracelet, the green beads being wooden, the bracelet says "bug". a picture of Doctor Death Defying, played by Steve Righ, holding a phone up to his ear and looking somewhat concerned. A bracelet made out of different sized gem stone or rock beads.

bottom photos left to right: an original Polaroid camera. a tan beanie baby bear with a brown ribbon tied around it's neck and brown fussy ears. a pile of cassette tapes, the photo take in a top down view all of them are black with neutral colored stickers on them. /.End ID]

Vaya and Vamos mood board

[Mood Board ID: same layout with time with a half and half blue and pink gradient.

top photos left to right: a pink spotted white puppy plush from the TY Pluffies line on a light pink background. two makeup pallettes right next to each other, the left on being pink and the right one being blue. a blue spotted white puppy plush from the TY Pluffies line on a light blue background.

middle photos left to right: a bright pink and blue kandi bracelet with the letters "xoxo" on it with a heart separating the XOs. an image of both Vaya and Vamos from the True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys: California comic, Vamos is on the left with a light pink back ground behind them and Vaya is on the right with a light blue back ground behind them. Two kandi bracelets one with a bunch of different shaped blue beads and the other with a bunch of different shaped pink beads.

bottom photos from left to right: a light pink and white marching band jacket with little stars printed on it in front of a light pink background. a picture of a lot of Starburts mixed together but there's only two colors, blue and pink. A Blues Clues letterman jacket with medium blue for the main part and lighter blue for the sleeves and accents on a light blue background. /.End ID]

and that's all of them, if you read through all of those IDs thanks, and I'm hoping that they're helpful to people :]

☆

[Picture ID: A banner that says "DNI if you sexualize age regression" DNI standing for Do Not Interact. It is shown in big white text over a purple space background with a drawing of the Sanrio character Cinnamorol wearing headphones and sporting a purple mohawk /.End ID]

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spookibird · 2 years ago

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Tell me literally anything about the movie!

IGHT

So it would be animated specifically so I can have control over the character designs

It would open with a shot of the ruins of the Cyclone with five memorials visible, before the headless ghost of the 6th victim sings the intro

Karnak still addresses the audience but the theatre specific instructions will be left out for audience reasons

Penny is visible during uranium suite but her face/head is blocked out at any point shes on screen, however she vanishes partway through the song

Jane will be ominous as hell, scary Janes are the best Janes, her movements are all weird, and she doesn't blink, her eyes are constantly wide

Ocean’s song resembles a pop music video, and she wears a sparkly outfit, the others can be seen reacting when they arent doing back up

Ocean is actually having a mental breakdown throughout the film

Noel’s Lament is in black and white, and has a different filming style to make it look like an old film

Ricky still plays the accordion

For ESHAL im torn between tap dancing or hand puppets

Constance goes off the rails completely and just starts a whole stand up section on her own

TSIA is in the style of an old youtube music video, very amateur but fun

Everyone has unique sunglasses, Jane is confused by hers

Talia is a wedding, but looks like a painting, however at the end, Mischa has to walk away from her

Ricky keeps his mobility aids

SABM resembles an old sci-fi, complete with cheesy effects, Ricky's outfiy is a mix of old rock fashion and the goblin king from labyrinth, but with neon colours

When Jane goes up for her memories, she presses it twice but nothing happens, so she goes looking around the stage for something, but only comes back with her doll

The choir react to the death of Father Marcus

For TBOJD Jane is in a funeral gown, and the first part of the song follows a funeral service, before changing into an interpretation of the cyclone disaster as the song picks up

She doesn't float she falls

Furthermore, unlike the other songs, the rest of the choir do not sing back up, instead the backing vocals are provided by faceless mourners and witnesses

It ends with her in an unmarked grave, which the rest of the choir help her out of for TNBS

Jane shares her cupcake with Ricky

Constance is the only one with a major costume change in Sugar Cloud, the others wear previous accessories they liked

It takes place among the clouds, but all the effects and choreography are clearly created by the choir, a final celebration for them all

They each play an instrument during Sugar Cloud

During the final vote, Jane visibly steps away, she didn’t think she would be chosen, and hesitates when she is

Ocean leads her to the portal, with everyone saying goodbye along the way

Penny's memory reel contains hints to Legoland

During IJAR everyone is doing their own thing, mimicking songs and rides, before boarding the Cyclone once more, and climbing up a hill into a white light, whilst Penny watches from below

#birdie answers #ride the cyclone #rtc #rtc film idea #i wanna do something with these ideas so

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asenloby · 2 years ago

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5 DIY Neon Sign Home Decor Projects you can do at Home

by Nisha Jangir

Neon signs have been a popular trend in home decor for quite some time now. They give any area a dash of retro charm and can make it into a hip, modern setting. A personalised neon sign, yet, can be pricey to buy. The good news is that you can create neon signs at home using a few inexpensive materials and tools. These are five ideas you may complete at home to decorate using neon signs.

Neon LED sign and wire: Flexible LED Neon tubes are among the simplest materials that can be used to make a neon sign. These lights come in a variety of colors and are twisted to create the design you want. All you need to get started is some wire, pliers, and LED neon lights. The wire can be used to form words, symbols, or even shapes, to which the neon tubes can then be attached with glue or tape. Plug in the lights when you're done and watch your creation come to life.

Electric neon sign: Another excellent alternative for creating your own neon sign is EL, which stands for an electroluminescent wire. When an electrical current flows through it, a thin, flexible wire turns on. If you bend the wire and attach it with tape or glue, you can create the design you want. You'll need a battery to power the EL wire, which you can attach to the back of your sign, to power the EL wire. EL Wire is available in a variety of shades and can be a wonderful way to add a splash of color to your decor.

Neon Colors: A vibrant splash of color to your decor can also be achieved with neon paint. It can be applied to a canvas or even a wall to make your neon sign. You can use stencils or draw your design by hand to create it. Once your design is complete, let the paint dry before adding a black light to make it shine.

Neon-tape artwork: An excellent substitute for conventional neon lights is neon tape. It is simple to use and offered in a number of colors. Either use the tape to draw your design directly on the wall or draw it on a piece of paper and then tape it to the wall. Because the tape is self-adhesive, it is simple to apply and remove without leaving a mark on the wall. If you want a temporary neon sign, this is a wonderful choice.

String Neon Art: String art has been a well-liked DIY craft for a while, but utilising neon string will up the ante. You can draw your design on a canvas or even a wooden board. Once you've finished designing, hammer some nails into the design to hold the string in place. Watch it glow after you're finished by hanging it up.

In conclusion, creating your own neon signs at home is a fun way to give your interior design some individuality and color. Your own personalised neon sign can be made at home using a few basic pieces of equipment and supplies. These tasks are enjoyable, simple, and only take a few hours to complete. Why not try it out and see what kind of neon sign you can produce?

#decor #home decor #house decor #room decor #neon lights #neon sign #led neon signs #led lighting

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epiceventchronicles · 22 days ago

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10 Steps to Plan a Perfect Birthday Party Event

Planning a birthday party can be exciting yet challenging. Whether for a child, a friend, or a family member, a memorable celebration requires thoughtful preparation and attention to detail.

How to Plan an Unforgettable Birthday Party

A birthday celebration is a joyful gathering that brings friends and family together to honor someone’s special day with love, laughter, and cherished memories. It’s a time to celebrate life’s milestones, filled with joy, fun activities, and heartfelt moments.

Step 1: Choose a Theme

A well-chosen theme sets the tone for the entire event. Here are some popular ideas:

For Kids: Superheroes, princesses, animals, or a favorite character

For Teens: Neon party, 90s throwback, or music-themed events

For Adults: Elegant black-tie, Hawaiian luau, or a retro vibe

If you’re working with a birthday party event planner, they can help you customize every detail to match the chosen theme.

Step 2: Set a Budget

Decide on your budget early on. It helps you determine how much you can allocate to different areas like venue, food, and entertainment. A well-defined budget ensures that you don’t overspend and can still create an unforgettable experience.

Step 3: Select a Venue

Choose a venue that complements your theme and suits the guest count:

Home Parties: Great for small gatherings; intimate and easy to manage.

Outdoor Venues: Perfect for children’s parties, especially if you have activities planned.

Rented Venues: Ideal for larger gatherings, offering flexibility with decorations and space.

Step 4: Create Invitations

Invitations set the first impression, so make them count! Digital invitations are cost-effective and easy to distribute, while printed ones add a special touch. Include the theme, date, time, location, RSVP details, and any specific instructions related to the party (like a dress code).

Step 5: Plan the Menu

The menu should reflect the theme and cater to all dietary preferences. Some ideas include:

Finger Foods: Mini sandwiches, sliders, and fruit skewers

Themed Desserts: Customized cupcakes, cookies, or a cake decorated to match the theme

Beverages: Non-alcoholic punch for kids or mocktail stations; signature cocktails for adults

Step 6: Organize Fun Activities

To keep guests entertained, plan some engaging activities:

For Kids: Scavenger hunts, crafts, or a puppet show

For Teens: Photo booth, karaoke, or a dance floor

For Adults: Trivia, board games, or a live music session

Games are a great way to break the ice and ensure everyone has a good time.

Step 7: Arrange for Decorations

Decorations are essential to bring the theme to life. Balloons, banners, and table centerpieces add charm to any venue. Decorations, food, and party favors add the finishing touches to any celebration. Consider hiring a birthday event management team to handle setup, ensuring a stress-free experience for you and a beautiful atmosphere for your guests.

Some pro tips:

DIY Decor: Make some decor pieces yourself to save money and add a personal touch.

Custom Backdrops: Perfect for photos, and it enhances the theme.

Lighting: Adds ambiance, especially for evening parties.

Step 8: Set Up a Photography Corner

A designated photo corner is a fun addition for guests to capture memories. Set up a backdrop with props related to the theme. Guests love sharing these photos on social media, so it’s a great way to make the event memorable.

Step 9: Manage the Music

Create a playlist that matches the mood of the party or hire a DJ if your budget allows. For children’s parties, popular kid-friendly songs are a must. For adults, think about adding some crowd favorites or nostalgic tunes that will encourage people to dance.

Step 10: Party Favors

Party favors are a wonderful way to thank your guests for coming. Choose something relevant to the theme, like mini-candies, candles, or small plants. For kids, toys or goodie bags are always a hit.

Final Thoughts

Whether you’re planning every detail yourself or hiring a birthday party event planner to make things easier, keeping the day organized and focusing on personalized touches can create a magical celebration.

To know more about Organising events: Guide for Event Planning and Management

#birthday party #event management #birthday party venues #birthday party planner

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purelyfiction · 2 years ago

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All Fun & Games ♧♤♡♢ 3.1

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x F!Reader |1| 2 | 3.2

Word Count: 5,335 words

Summary: In a rather spontaneous fashion, Bob has invited you to take a glimpse into his routine - one that you don’t normally get a good look at while up in the air.

Content Warning: This story will have TopGun: Maverick plot line elements to it and will possibly spoil the movie for you. Please be aware. This - and all of my stories - is 18+. By continuing to read you agree that you are 18 or older and that any content you come across is by your own decision. || Mild NSFW subjects

Author Note: .... don’t hate me. This has taken such a long, long time to get out because of work, life - so many things kept piling up. Thank you so so so much for your patience, I think it was early July the last time I updated, so this is long awaited. And because of that - I’ve double updated. This chapter has an extension to it, since I am a madwoman and can’t stay under 8k words and ended up writing nearly 11k words for one part. So, please enjoy more Bob x Vegas content - and please please thank @callsignthirsty and @deadratio for being my editors, sounding boards and generally great friends. You’ll likely see them again soon. Without further adieu: All Fun & Games - Part 3.1

Attention: If you would like to be on the tag list please see the pinned post on my blog for the document. If you’re not able to access it please message me, I rarely find any tag requests in my notifications!

════⋆★⋆════

Bob simply told you to go home and change into an old pair of jeans, a shirt you can sweat in and closed toed shoes. And that he’d eventually be over. So, you did just that despite the 99 degree heat wave North Island is going through. You can’t help but think he’s going insane when he shows up to your door wearing double denim. A stark brown cowboy hat sits on his head, making his gold aviator frames shine in the late morning light.

The jean jacket on his shoulders is worn, and so are the jeans on his hips. Rugged and thoroughly loved cowboy boots sit on his feet. “You look like a right cowboy,” you offer with a smirk as you shut the door behind you, engaging the automatic lock on the door.

“We’re goin’ ridin’, I’d hope so,” he snickers, hands in his pockets as he turns. When you begin down the path, you spot his vehicle in the street. Bob had showed up to pizza night after dark, and the street was very poorly lit - meaning you’d not seen what he’d driven there.

Which is why it takes you aback to see a midnight black silverado at the end of your driveway. “You drive a truck?” you ask, raising an eyebrow in surprise as he approaches the vehicle, looking back at you.

“I’m dressed like a cowboy and you really think I ain’t gon’ be driving a vehicle that matches?” he retorts, before reaching the passenger door and opening it. Bob offers his hand to you, which you hesitantly take before climbing in. He shuts the door before he gets to his side and you can’t help but find the entire interaction... charming.

Once he’s in the cabin, you smile at him. “Maybe I should’ve seen it coming the second you showed me photos of a horse when I woke up this morning,” you tease as he’s starting the engine.

“The signs were all there,” he jokes as he pulls from the curb. It’s not until you’re pulling out of your housing plan that you notice he’s seemingly driving from memory. Another 15 minutes pass before you’re in winding streets, only to pull into a very small parking lot.

“This does not look like a stable, Bo,” you point out and he gives you a look. What he’s pulled up to looks like a red and silver classic bullet diner, neon lights and all. The lot isn’t very full but it looks like there’s a lot of people from what you can see from the wide windows.

“What an astute observation, Lieutenant.” He gives a snicker before opening his door. Bob’s nearly halfway out his own before he sees you try for your own. “Don’t you even think about it.” He gives a pointed finger before shutting his door, making you laugh while he’s dashing around the front of the truck, coming over and opening your door. With a waiting hand, he helps you out and the door swings back to the closed position.

“Thank you. I… don’t remember the last time someone opened a car door for me,” you admit as he waits for you to head to the diner building, a hand coming to the small of your back as he walks a little way behind you.

“I can. It was last night,” Bob points out and you laugh thinking about being leant over the console of your car, attempting to reach the other door handle from the driver’s side.

“It was, wasn’t it?” You can’t wipe the smile off your face as he moves to pull the door open, a bell ringing above you as you pass through what seems to be the entrance to a time machine. There’s classic black and white tile through the entire building, as small as it is, neon red leather booth seats, a classic milkshake machine down the bartop - a jukebox at the end of the narrow aisle that’s been created.

The diner is absolutely bustling, almost every seat is filled, despite the few cars that adorned the parking lot. As you wait to be seated, your wandering eyes fall on a row of familiar machines. “I haven’t seen these in years,” you reminisce before crouching down to look at the little red capsule vending machines.

They haven’t been filled in some time - at least from what you can assume, as many of them are nearly empty. You’re looking over a novelty one when you hear the clinking of metal on metal. Turning your head, you find Bob cranking the knob to one of the dispensers, his hand sitting at the bottom of the chute, waiting for his purchase to come tumbling down. Orange, brown and yellow candies tumble into his palm, a childlike grin on his features as he stands upright.

“Reese’s Pieces at 9 in the morning?” you scold, watching him make a funnel with his hands and letting them fall into his mouth.

“What?” He snickers, mouth full as he chews at the candy. With a shake of your head you’re turning your attention back to the machines in front of you. A laugh leaves you when you spot a range of incredibly poorly made necklaces.

“Look!” you laugh pointing at one of them, making Bob crouch down to look at the panel wedged into the glass. “There’s a bull - it would complete your outfit,” you tease, standing upright as he takes a closer look. A quick glance around the restaurant, you’re finding the bathroom and excusing yourself.

When you return, you find Bob with at least a dozen plastic bubble containers, making you laugh as he wedges yet another quarter into the machine.

“Bob! What on Earth are you doing?” you question, crouching down again, picking up a few of the bubbles. You’re looking at each of them, finding a skull and crossbones, a motorcycle, a dagger - Bob huffs when the next container tumbles out.

“Ah! Finally.” He lets out a laugh and stands up, making you follow suit and step closer to him as he pops the lid off the plastic, pulling the metal from the container. “Turn around.” He’s got a wild grin on his face, but you turn so your back is facing him. In a matter of seconds, he’s pulling the chain around your neck, doing up the clasp in the back. Your fingers pick up the charm, quickly identifying it.

A bull.

As you let out a laugh, you hear Bob’s last name through the waiting area and are quick to follow the older woman hostess to a seat. You approach a booth and are quick to slide in on one side as a menu is offered to you. “Robert, are you gonna need one as well, or the usual this morning?”

Your eyes look toward his face as he grins at the woman. “No, same thing for me this morning, Diana. Coffee - for both of us?” He says it more like a question as he wags a finger in the air, grouping the pair of you together.

“Alrighty, I’ll get Paisley on that right away. Take your time, dear.” You give an appreciative smile at the woman before looking over at the WSO across the table, who’s already peeled his hat off the top of his head, setting it on the seat next to him. His hair is a wild mess, which makes you take a deep breath as you try to gather the sentence that had been on the tip of your tongue - now suddenly gone at the sight of the male in front of you.

Finally, it springs back to its launchpoint on your lips.

“You really come around here frequently, don’t you?” you quip with a smirk, and he shrugs.

“Sort of. The riding thing is newer but - I used to come here a lot back when I was at TOPGUN the first time. One of my good friends and I spent a lot of time in these booths - and a lot on syrup and coffee.” Bob snickers but there’s something lingering in his words that rings somewhat insincere.

You choose not to prod, smiling in return before looking down to the menu. As you’re still reading over the options, a black haired woman approaches with an all too eager grin. “Bobby! It’s about time you were here for the morning, I was beginning to worry you weren’t going to show.” She grins, setting a mug down on the table complete with milk and sugar. Bob greets her in return, a quick glance is sent your direction when he realizes she hasn’t brought a mug for you.

“Me not show? Unlikely,” he hums. “You’ve not met my colleague,” Bob continues in his introduction of you, wherein Paisley gives a very cold fake smile.

“Pleasure, Lieutenant. Guess I forgot your mug, didn’t I? Let me grab that. Do you know what you want since I’m on the way in?” You’re giving her your order - leaving her to snatch the menu from your hands and make her way back to the kitchen window.

“Well she’s… pleasant,” you suggest and Bob shrugs.

“Must be having a rough morning. She’s usually a right sweetheart.” He shrugs and sips at his already prepped coffee, which makes you furrow your brows.

“You must be here a lot if she knows how you take your coffee…” you offer, receiving a shrug in response.

“I’ll stop in sometimes during the week or grab dinner when the mess hall is less than appetizing. But I’m usually only here on Sunday’s before going to the stables.”

“Understandable.” You hum, leaning onto your hands that are propped up by your elbows on the table while meeting his eye. Bob mimics the stance, which doesn’t seem natural on him - making you laugh. He’s joining in as well before you start asking a question: “Not to be weird but: What’s your favorite color?”

Bob gives a chuckle before he taps the leather of the seat he’s sitting on. “You’re looking at it. I haven’t been able to figure why, but red is just such a… vibrant color. It makes me think of home. My pap’s ranch — well my uncle Dale’s ranch, now — has this massive red barn and a few dozen cows to boot. I spent my summers there, like I said, so I have fond memories of that red shining in Tennessee July. That and apple picking in the fall. My momma planted a few apple trees on our acreage in Georgia and she makes the best apple pie with them. It’s funny, seein’ we’re the peach state and all.”

Your laugh pairs with his before dancing through the metal and linoleum of the diner, only to be stomped out as Paisley returns with a mug and fills it with coffee for you. “There’s cream and sugar on the table. Bobby, your food should be out soon. I put hers in a minute ago so it’ll be here… eventually.”

“Thanks, Paise.” A grin from the brunette, the woman exchanging one and dismissing herself from the table without another word. You let out a sound of astonishment and he furrows a brow at you as he sips his coffee.

“It’s like I don’t exist when she shows up,” you point out and Bob shakes his head as he swallows.

“I don’t think, she’s just doing her job,” he offers as you fix your coffee.

“It wouldn’t kill her to be a little nicer,” you mumble once your mug is to your lips. “Anyways. Tell me more about this ‘acreage’ of yours. You guys have a farm in Georgia?”

Bob shakes his head as he shifts in the booth. “No. I mean, momma has chickens but that’s about it. There’s a good 10 acres at minimum. At least a quarter of it has a line of wooded area. Land is a big deal in the south for some reason. Our house is this massive farmhouse built in the seventies, and most of us have moved out. Rylie is the only one still there.”

“Rylie?” you question, your gaze taken by a passing truck with a trailer hitch attached to it. You must be somewhat close to the stables. That paired with the countless farm hands around you, you had to assume.

“Youngest of 5,” he answers, leaving your eyes to widen.

“You have four siblings?” Your jaw slides to open your mouth as he nods.

“Sisters, to be exact. I’m the oldest, then there’s Robyn, she’s 13 months younger than me. We’re jokingly referred to as the twins since we were raised so close to one another. Rowan was born in ‘93, so she’s 27, Raine at 25, leaving us with Rylie who’s 16.” Bob sips at his coffee again, your hands twirling the mugs bottom on the table it rests on as you listen.

“That’s…. A gap.” You kindly point out and he snickers as he sets his mug down.

“She was a bonus kid. Momma said she was done having kids and then… Ry-guy came along.” You click your tongue, sitting in silence for a minute before you point out the obvious.

“All Rs,” you hum, and he sighs.

“Was hoping you wouldn’t point that one out.” Bob stretches back against the leather, leaving you to tilt your head.

“Why’s that?”

“It always follows with ‘is your mom Rebecca and your dad Robert Senior?’” He fiddles with the silverware on the table.

“Well, are they?” He smiles as he sees your expression of intrigue and shakes his head.

“Johnathan and Kelly.” A laugh breaks out and you have to cover your mouth.

“Sorry, sorry - so what the hell is with all the Rs?” You can’t wipe the stupid grin on your face as he grins with an air of discontent on his shoulders. Clearly you’re not the first one to ask.

“My granddad on my dad’s side is named Robert - so I’m technically jr, but he’s not around that often. He lives in a retirement plan in Florida. As for the Rs, I was named after granddad, and then they had Robyn. So when Rowan was born they… just kept goin’.”

“It’s kinda cute,” you admit as Bob goes for another sip of coffee only to realize his cup is empty. He shrugs as he reaches across the table, sneaking your mug away from you as Paisley approaches with a coffee carafe in hand. He’s still mid sip when both of you look at the dark haired woman.

“You could’a asked for more coffee, Bobby,” Paisley notes as the male returns your mug and she takes his to fill it.

“Eh, don’t worry about it, coffee tastes better from Vegas’ cup anyways,” he teases with a grin, making you giggle.

“I see. Well, food will be here soon,” Paisley mumbles before turning back toward another table, making you look to him with a look of ‘is she ok?’ and Bob waves you off as he fixes his coffee. In the time it takes to finish his task, a food runner is dropping off a meal of waffles, bacon and eggs in front of your coworker, making him grin and thank the employee.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom and washup, ‘kay?”

“Sounds good.” You confirm as he gets up, passing Paisley on the way to the bathroom as she stops at your table to check your coffee.

“So, how long have you been together?” she asks bitterly as she fills your mug to the top. You freeze at the question, your head moving back and forth.

“I- We aren’t-”

“He’s flirted with you since the minute you stepped foot into the diner. I knew I heard your name before. You’re the Vegas chick that Diana keeps mentioning when she waits on him. She asks him every week how things are going with you two, and he always says you two aren’t dating but I get it. Work probably doesn’t like the idea of you two together-”

“Paisley, right?” You clear your throat and look her in the eye. “Bo-Robert and I aren’t dating.” The nickname leaves you first, leaving you to correct yourself. “It really isn’t any deeper than just a good pair of friends who happen to work together.”

The woman in front of you lets out a laugh and shakes her head. “Friends don’t spend three seventy five on a capsule machine for a toy necklace, but you keep telling yourself that.” Paisley then disappears as quick as she appeared, leaving you to your thoughts.

People in this diner knew who you were. Which meant Bob had been openly talking to people about you. What had he been saying? Was it bad? You’re tugged from any questions as Diana reappears with your plate.

“You’re paler than a ghost, are you alright?” she asks as she sets your dish down. You nod and grin at her with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. She notices, but she doesn’t dare prod you further.

“Yep, yeah, I’m good.” Your brow furrows and you’re about to ask a question when Bob slides back into the booth.

“I’m so excited about these waffles, Di. I’ve been thinking about them all week.” He beams at the woman and she lets a hand hover over her chest as you start at your meal.

“Well that just made my day. You’re a charmer Robert.” She then looks over at you. “Watch out for this one.”

“I certainly will,” you fire back as Diana starts off, leaving you to watch the childlike joy on Bob’s face as he tears into his breakfast.

════⋆★⋆════

With full stomachs, you’re headed back to Bob’s truck and pulling onto the road. He’s got his window down so there’s a refreshing breeze in the truck. As the wind flows, it makes the wispy bits of Bob’s hair that stick out from under his hat flit about.

Eventually, he turns onto a gravel road that leads down toward a large building and a small parking lot. As you climb out of the cab, Bob’s grabbing a brown bag from beside him, making you tilt your head.

“What’s that?” you ask with curiosity, as he leads the way toward the stables.

“A little somethin’. Don’t fret your pretty head about it.” Bob glances over his shoulder as he guides you to an open barn door. You smile at him, despite the way your stomach is flipping at the words.

Just friends. Just friends.

Between the cracked concrete and the rusted lock hatches, you're sure the stable has seen better days, but it smells well loved and lived in. Like home away from home. You try to take it all in while keeping up with Bob's over-eager steps down a poorly-lit hallway. There are multiple people tending to stalls and carrying feed, and you give them all an awkward small smile and a wave, not sure what else to do with your hands. They usually reciprocate a smile in return - many of them have not so subtly taken notice of your incredibly white shoes, their low chuckles telling you that they won’t remain white for long. Part of you is self conscious as you pass people, and it must be clearly written across your face, because when Bob turns to see you lagging behind, he stops and waits for you. Once you’re at his side, he carefully takes your hand in his and looks you in the eye. “Hey, what’s the matter?” His grip is reassuring, but you shrug it off.

“I’m fine.” You wave him off with a smile but he’s already trying to find a solution.

“No ma’am, you are not.” He turns to face you as someone passes by with a quick ‘morning Bob’. He greets them with a smile but grabs their attention. “Can I ask somethin’ of ‘ya?”

“Sure thing.” The woman pockets her hands, smiling at you before looking at Bob.

“This is my friend’s first time ridin’,” he looks to you to confirm and you nod, “is there anything you can suggest that will help her confidence?” Bob asks.

The woman gives you an assessing once-over before she starts on her soapbox. “Well, for starters, she could get a heartier shoe on her foot. Somethin’ with a heel and steel toes. Or at least more protection than fabric. Those sneakers won’t offer nearly the same protection as a boot. As for the horses themselves, they’re more nervous than you. A first time rider like yourself should ride a well-broken horse.” She then turns to Bob, “who were you going to take out for her?”

“I was thinkin’ Goldrush? She’s pretty even tempered, there was a six year old ridin’ with her last week,” Bob offers, tilting his head in what you assume to be Goldrush’s general direction. His hand is still in yours, somewhat playfully rocking in the air as he continues his conversation with this stable hand. The feeling is reassuring while simultaneously strange.

“That’s probably your best bet. I know Heeler and Levi were just out, so they’re probably darn tired and wouldn’t stand another ride.” Bob gives a nod and thanks the woman by name - Jennifer you think it was? You were too focused on the curious head poking out of the stall to your right, making you grin. Soon, Bob is guiding you to a wall that’s filled with lockers that have seen better days. He’s grabbing his keys from his pocket and opening one up, old and nearly peeling duct tape over the door with black Sharpie scrawled across the front:

R. Floyd

It’s funny how six letters could make you break out in such a childish smile.

Yet here you were, watching as the cowboy next to you opens his locker (a rather messy one at that) looking around for something.

“What’s your shoe size?” He looks up at you from his squatted position, a rouge boot in his hand.

“You’re going all stalker on me, Floyd.” You tease, looking down at the boot. Luckily, the boot was a half size bigger than your own, making you look at him as he guides you to a seat nearby. “Do I wanna know who these shoes belong to?”

“First off, they’re boots. Get it right.”

“Sorry, sorry. Whose boots are these?”

He has a wild smirk on his face, shaking his head as he undoes your laces on your sneakers. “They’re Robyn’s. She left them here back when I was in Leemore,” Bob answers before looking up at you, one knee to the ground as he tugs the shoe off your foot. “I’m not tryin’ to be a dick you know. My name’s not Seresin.”

An astonished laugh leaves you as he starts to get your other shoe off, a rather proud expression painted on his features. “Oh yeah? So what’s the difference, cowboy?” you hum, watching as he undoes your laces and shifts onto his other knee to toss your still-white Nikes into his locker.

“Well most notably, they’re leather. But, I reckon you already knew that.” He snickers, carefully taking the back of your calf, guiding your foot into the boot and shuffling it in for you. When your foot finally sinks in, it’s damn comfortable. “The boot has more protection to keep your calves from chafing against the side of the horse, and the heel keeps your foot in the stirrup. And, well - if a hoof ends up misplaced on your toes, they’re better protected.”

Your eyes widen at the last one and he taps your knee in reassurance as he slides the other shoe on.

“It’s never happened to me and I’ve been ridin’ for years. Just a precaution, V.” When your feet are secure in the boots, he’s standing upright and taking your hands to guide you onto your feet, like you were a newborn calf learning to walk. “They feel good?”

“I get why you wear boots now,” you admit as your feet shuffle along the dirt floor. They’re hugging your foot comfortably, and barely have any shift to them, keeping them in place. When you look back up at him, he’s grinning ear to ear.

“Now you’re a right cowgirl.” He’s beaming and you can’t help the reflected smile on your face. With his hand still in yours again, he’s shutting his locker and leading the way out of the barn like structure, out to a gravel path and toward another barn. When he opens the door, you find nearly a dozen horses in their own respective stalls. “Welcome to the stable.”

Bob begins to lead you down, introducing you to each horse, a few of them getting nose and ear scratches from the back seater. It’s not until you’re in front of a stall with a white and brown horse who’s bouncing their head excessively and whinnying at the sight of your coworker.

“And here’s the man of the hour,” he cheers, pulling his face away as the horse excitedly tries to lick at him. “Easy, Cop, easy.” He chuckles with a greeting pet to the side of the horse’s neck. Bob’s handing you the bag he’s been carrying around. “Open that for me?”

When you do, you’re greeted by a cinnamon sugar coated pastry, which Bob pulls from the bag still in your hand.

“This is what you’re after, ain’t it buddy?” He holds the donut up in the air, the horse sniffing along, lips moving in an effort to grab the snack in Bob’s hands. He’s teasingly keeping it just out of the poor animal’s reach.

“Bo, stop mocking him,” you admonish with a laugh, leaving Bob to cave and feed the treat to the white and brown spotted animal. As Copper’s teeth bite into the fried dough, he notices the bag in your hand. You have to reach out with your spare hand to stop his muzzle from entering the bag and stealing another treat.

“Hey!” you laugh, gingerly pushing his snout from the brown paper. “I don’t think both of these are for you, pal,” you hum, using your knuckles to gently rub his forehead.

“Unfortunately not,” Bob confirms, before pointing out a tan horse a few stalls down. “That’s Goldrush. The other donut’s for her. We can feed her and then I’ll get her saddled, we’ll get her in the pen, and then we can grab Copper.”

Bob leads you to Goldrush, and teaches you how to feed her — palm flat, fingers together, thumb tucked against the side of your hand. She’s so calm, happily letting you pet her as Bob starts to layer on tack to get her ready. The brunette is carefully teaching you about each layer: the saddle pad, the saddle, the girth, and bridle. As he moves about the stall, you can see the sweat begin to bead on his forehead. He’s eventually shrugging off his denim jacket, leaving him in a long sleeve linen shirt with countless stains on it. He’s pushing the sleeves up his forearms and getting back to the task at hand. Now your attention has shifted from the tack equipment and all their names, to the way his muscles flex with the tightening of clasps, the sheer strength needed to lift the saddle up and over the horse, the spots of his shirt that have changed color with moisture-

You realize he’s said something, which makes you startle back to attention and look at him with eyes and ears open.

“Huh?” you prompt, seeing his outreached hand holding the reins.

“You wanna walk her to the pen?” Hesitantly, you take the leather leeds from his hand and begin to guide the horse from her stall - with Bob’s help. “Look at you, you’re a natural.” He’s clearly teasing you, based off of the smirk on his features, you roll your eyes.

“Open the gate, Floyd.”

“Yes ma’am.”

It doesn’t take long for Bob to get Copper ready, but once he’s done, the WSO is drenched in sweat, which certainly doesn’t go unnoticed. You’re not sure if he can tell, but there is a burning to your skin that you’re absolutely certain isn’t from the sun.

Bob recommends that you take a few laps around the enclosure before you head to a trail, just to make sure you’re comfortable, and Goldrush is letting you be her passenger. You’re attempting to navigate the task of mounting up when Bob rushes over, pulling a pair of gloves on.

“Here, wait.” Soon enough, the WSO’s hands are on your waist. “At the count’a three, jump.” With one foot in the stirrup, you’re nodding at his instructions. As he counts, you bounce your knees, before jumping up, Bob’s arms helping you up as you pull yourself up and over the width of the saddle.

“Hey! Look at that!” you cheer, looking down at Bob who’s grabbing ahold of the reins in leathered gloves.

“How’s the weather up there?” he chides as he begins to step with Goldrush along the wooden fence, helping you get used to the motion - you’re holding on to the horn of the saddle as you shift side to side which each step Goldrush takes.

“Hah hah. You should drop out of the Navy and go on a comedy show,” you taunt with a smile.

“I know, such wasted potential.” Bob smiles up at you before reaching up to hand the reins over. “You feelin’ okay up there, darlin’?”

You swear you had an answer. All the way up until darlin’ in that damn drawl flies off his lips. It’s like a Rubrik’s cube was scrambled just as you were about to solve it - and now you’re being timed to get all the colors right.

“Ugh, yeah, yeah. I’m good.” You hesitantly take the straps from his hands.

“Glad to hear it. So let’s work on steering.”

With a quick lesson under your belt, Bob is climbing up on Copper’s back and starting to navigate you both from the pen toward a path just off the grounds of the stables. The path is a dirt path that starts up the base of the nearby hill - or was it a mountain?

Either way it had some elevation to it and both horses breezed over it. There were trees littered along the path, but they gave way to glimpses of the ocean nearby.

“How often are you on this path?” You’re shouting so Bob can hear you up head on the trail. He turns to look at you from over his shoulder.

“At least once a week. There’s not many paths near here that are horse accessible, so we’re pretty limited,” he explains and you nod. You’re taking in your surroundings, trying to focus on staying in the saddle, your knuckles gripping the leather of the horn as you continue to climb further up the trail path.

“How are you so rigid on this thing? I feel like I’m sliding with every step.” Bob glances at you again and kicks his legs out at his sides.

“Hug the horse with your legs. You should be moving your body with her head. Horses move their entire body when they walk. So you’ve gotta move with them.” He’s faced forward again and you’re watching the way he’s riding, trying to figure out what he means.

You’re not easily distracted, but there’s something in the way thatBob’s hips seem to bounce with each trot Copper takes that has your head in the clouds. You swear if you knew the way back, you and Goldrush would’ve been running back to the stables, but you don’t, so your skin is hot and you hope Bob’ll just blame it on the heat.

The two of you mingle in light conversation, taking in sights and listening to Bob’s stories about his grandfather’s ranch. Getting to know him has been a big part of the weekend, and there’s a mental list you’ve been running:

Tequila and Robert don’t mix

He doesn’t wear pajamas

He’s a cowboy

He drives a truck

The man is ripped

He’s a true gentleman

He has lots of siblings

You’re certain the list will continue to grow the more you’re around him, and frankly, you’re not too mad about it.

════⋆★⋆════

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@luckyladycreator2 @queengeek487

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#bob x reader #bob floyd x reader #robert floyd x reader #robert x reader #bob x vegas #bob x f!reader #bob floyd x f!reader #robert floyd x f!reader #top gun fic #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick

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messydiabolical · 2 years ago

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The Cerberus shield fort in the Normandy hangar bay, aka Fort Mail Slot

I was chatting about fave enemies in Mass Effect in a discord chat, and mentioned that I love the cerberus shield guys, as a sniper they are fun to aim at. And I got the biggest freaking brainworm, which started with:

Keahi Shep would collect them all up (the shields) afterwards and build a victory fort in the shuttle bay. Thane: has anyone seen siha Garrus: he's in the shield fort down in the bay Thane: the what Garrus: they're making a throne. It has turrets too.

And it became A THING. @stormikins and I then went into such a spiral elabroating the lore of Fort Mail Slot, at 7am on Monday morning, on no sleep and much coffee. Highlights! (quotations are @stormikins ideas, thank you so much for joining me on this madness stormikins!) ⦁ Everyone gets to add a shield they have 'won' (aka taken out a cerberus shield guy in battle) to the front rampart and can decorate it as they choose. ("Grunt would paint dinos and sharks. Eating little Cerberus guys"). ⦁ At first its seen as a Shep quirk, but as people add their own touches to it, they quickly become fully invested in the fort. Tali engineers a lighting and sound system. Liara establishes extranet connections. A bar appears. Vega's gym gets absorbed into the structure and becomes the fort gym. ⦁ Sophie gets her own tower right by the front gate and is the guard dog of honour. "She’s like Cerberus guarding the gate. Must give bribe treat to get in" ⦁ The fort quickly becomes legendary throughout the galaxy. It's in the shuttle bay, so anyone who comes aboard immediately see's the giant freaking shield fort as like the first thing they see aboard the Normandy, which is hilarious, UNLESS they come aboard from the upper dock, then they hear whispers of the secret fort in the basement. ⦁ "Shepard, picking up Jack and the kids at Grissom: hey, collect your shields! We’re trying to make another wing! Jack: what " (but also) Jack: sees the kids not picking up shieds Jack: you heard the man you little Fu- fricks.

⦁” Kaidan/Ashley come aboard and are like: damn nothing really has changed huh” They'd look, shake their head, and immediately hop on in. "Shake of the head, hands on hips, and then “how many do I need?” ⦁ Politicans that DON'T fuck Shep over get embassy status ⦁ Rumour has it Primarch Victus got absolutely sauced in the bar wing late one night after a trying day of playing politics ⦁ The dalatrass is of course denied entry. "Wrex takes pleasure in rubbing in her face that he's invited and she isn't" ⦁ the fort becomes so normalised on the Normandy, so much a part of the life that people kinda forget it’s a bit odd, and when the asari refuse to help Shep actually tries the 'but you won't be included in the fort' line asari: what Shep: what~ ⦁ Liara gets her own mini bank of screens in the fort to try and lure her out of her room, Shep puts up black blankets around the area with a huge sign saying 'super secret shadow broker business shhhhh' over it. Shep also puts up a neon notice board with 'totally not super secret shadow broker messages under here nope' and underneath is an extremely crudely drawn penis, with realy tiny writing underneath, like so tiny you have to get really close or take a picture and zoom, and the writing says 'made you look Liara. Twice.' and next to it is another tiny dick. ⦁ Another shadow broker prank sign: “To learn this SB secret please answer the following: dog or not?" ⦁ Joker gets 'I got fucked in the cerberus shield fort and all I got was this lousy shirt' teeshirts printed ⦁ Shep creates a little moat out front for javik. He of course deems it primitive, but can be found using it. He also compiles a report on more effective fort defence protocols. "Sophia loves him, and he's annoyed by it, but secretly loves it" ⦁ In time people commend Shepard for coming up with such an unconventional but genius way of creating a bonding exercise for the crew during the stresses of war. Shep is mysetfied, they genuinely just wanted to build a fort. ⦁ Just picture it: a bunch of cerberus troops spreading out in front of Shep, feeling confident ('so many of us vs 3 people, and us with these shiny shields!') and shep just whooping and shouting 'yes! we can extend the cinema room lads!' and the troops being very, very confused ⦁ the mail slots on the front gate are for pizza delivery we tried coming up with good names, but in the end decided that it being simply the shield fort was funnier, as people might assume the 'shield fort in the hangar bay' is like an actual, functional ship thing, like a shield fortification station for the normandy or something, and then its like 'oh, no, it's an actual shield fort'. It does gain the nickname of Fort Mail Slot among the crew. please help us expand Fort Mail Slot lore! What would other squad members decorate their shields with? What upgrades would people add, what wings? Please share cerberus sheild fort shennanigans i’d love to hear them x

#mass effect #mass effect headcanons #mass effect lore #Fort Mail Slot #the cerberus shield fort #commander shepard #my headcanons

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joshslater · 3 years ago

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Dionysus

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I was very hesitant when he picked me up at the nightclub. I could feel the disappointment and outright hostility from all the women and a lot of the men as the God walked up to me, started to make out, and then asked if I was up for some fun. That's what you get away with when no one ever says "no" I thought. With his incredibly handsome face, black hair, and athletic build that was probably not a word he was used to hearing. It would be impossible for him to know I was into guys, and coming on so strong could land you in hot water or rather knocked cold on the floor. Turns out he could know, and there was more to him than just utter handsomeness and unparalleled confidence. Way more.

It was back at his place he asked me if I could look like someone else, who would I pick? That's a game I've played many times before, so I instantly knew to answer Marco Albieri, the soccer player. He raised an eyebrow, took a step from me, and asked me why. "I don't know what it is about soccer players, but something about the game makes their bodies stunningly handsome. And Marco is just a step above the rest." He smiled a bright smile, made a dramatic gesture, and I was Marco. Looked exactly like him at least. It took me a moment to even realize what had just happened, but I could see myself in the full-length mirror. Or I couldn't, I should say. I saw Marco Albieri in full Paris Saint-Germain F.C. game kit. Mesmerized I took a step closer to the mirror, and Marco on the other side of the glass stepped closer as well. I looked just like him, my wettest, wankiest dream. I'd come so many times to exactly this fantasy. There was even a sheen of post-game sweat making all the skin glistening in his hallway designer lights.

He approached me from behind, still handsome but now by a much narrower margin. "You ready to fuck?" I didn't even answer but just turned around and kissed him. He wasn't shy in grouping me back. What followed was the longest fuck fest I've ever been part of. We went from room to room. It was like this body had limitless stamina, though it was the body of Marco after all, but an insatiable horny lust as well. Perhaps he had that too. It wasn't until early morning I fell asleep next to him, exhausted.

It was almost noon when I woke up, disoriented by everything. It was like it wasn't until now the craziness and impossibility of last night hit me. I could see Marco Albieri in the mirror at the other side of the bedroom, without shirt, and the most unkempt hair I had ever seen him with. I knew for a fact the secret hairstyling trick was body fluids. I suddenly felt very uneasy and exposed. Vulnerable even. I was here on vacation. How could I leave if I didn't look like my passport? How could I leave this building looking like Marco? There would be fans stopping me instantly. What the fuck am I thinking about? I'm erased from the world. No one I know, no one in my family would recognize me. Could I convince them I'm me and not a millionaire soccer player? Perhaps. But my life would be so complicated.

That's when he lazily strolled into the bedroom, completely naked showing off his chiseled body, one mug in each hand.

"You did this! How the fuck did you do this? You can't leave me like this!" "Morning!"

He handed me one of the mugs. On reflex I took a large sip of coffee only to discover it was red wine. It took me by surprise and I almost sprayed his white sheets with red mist of wine, but instead got some down my lungs and started to cough.

"Is this really the best you can think of?" he said. At first I had no idea what he meant. Then, still coughing, I realized it was my body again. The one I used to fly here, check into the hotel, and go out to nightclubs with.

"I... It's awfully inconvenient if I tried to leave with a different body." "That's it? That's the only reason?"

I felt stupid and unsure what to say. I liked my body, so why was it so hard to defend it? He took a large sip from his coffee mug of wine and climbed into bed next to me, but standing on his knees looking down on me.

"When's your flight back?" "Eh, in... On Sunday." "Plenty of time to let loose. How about going to the beach like this?"

This time I noticed the shift. The bed sagged down a bit under the extra load and I didn't even have to look in the mirror to see the freakish muscles. Two huge chest muscles peeked into my field of vision, and moving my arm I could see it was thicker than what my legs used to be.

I felt light-headed as we walked down to the beach. Probably the wine. He was subtle and classy, black Nike sneakers, black boardshorts, and a white T-shirt. I was anything but subtle. Probably twice his mass, annoying flip flops that flipped and flopped every step, white compression shorts that looked blindingly bright against my deep tan, a purple thong that peeked up over the rim of the shorts by the hips, visible because the neon yellow tank top was cropped above the belly button to show off the abs. The stringer waved for every step as my obscene pecs push out the yellow fabric like a hanging flag. It touched my body in surprisingly few places. Top of the traps and the nipples more or less.

After spending a few hours getting everyone passing by on the beach to turn their heads to observe the freak show he asked me to play floatation device for him. We went out in the water and did our best to have sex just outside where the waves broke. I think anyone who paid close attention could tell what we did, but no one could be really sure. He didn't appear to care.

"I made you something," he whispered. "What?" "A surfer," he said and begun walking towards the beach. As I wiped my long hair out of my face I understood he changed me again. No more shaved head, no more enormous meat slab. I still had a six-pack, I was still 6'-something, and my skin was deeply tanned, but that's about where the similarities ended. "Why?" I asked as I lied down on the beach towel next to his. "First dive bar opens soon, and I thought this would play better to the crowd." I was feeling woozy. "We want to play to the crowd?" He reached over and squeezed the pec closest to him. "Well, make them jealous at least."

There was something nagging at the edge of my thoughts. Some question I felt I needed to ask. I just couldn't quite put it into coherent thought.

"Did you drug me?" He made a high-pitched "Mmmm" sound. "Just a bit. To fit with the rest. Just go with it."

I shut my eyes, relaxed, and let his hand stroke me. I don't know how long we lied like that. Not too long, because the sun hadn't moved that much, but I sure did dozed off.

"Come on!" he said, like it was asking me to hurry up for the third time. A bit confused I got up from the beach towel. I wore a pair of eye-popping turquoise board shorts with black pattern and trim. Neon turquoise, if such a color was a thing. I knew it had a real trade name, but somehow it kept slipping my mind. They had a good fit, not loose, not tight, but rode low on my lithe body. Fuzzy pubes peeked out over the waistband, like a little forest edge where the treasure trail from the belly button ended. I looked around for a shirt or something to put on, but there was nothing except for a pair of flip-flops. These didn't look as cheap and fit much better than the previous pair though.

"Is that it?" I asked incredulously. "What more do you need?" he said, and looked at me like he wanted me for dinner. "Come!"

The bar wasn't far away and already busy when we arrived. He almost danced in, basically dragging me in, holding my hand. I was woozy from whatever I was drugged with, but in a way that made everything look amazing to me. In any direction I looked I was delighted by what I saw, no matter how mundane. The bar was not even half full and everyone looked as relaxed as you would expect from a bar half a block from the beach, though no one else was bare-chested. The decor was a random mix of styles, as expected by a dive bar. Tables for two or four were lined up in front of the bar at the back of the room. From a backroom somewhere behind it pumped music. I looked at my watch to see if it was already dance time, but I was only wearing a red nylon cord as a bracelet.

"You must be thirsty after a day in the sun," he said and handed me an Aperol Spritz. I could have sworn he hadn't left me for the bar, but then I didn't really trust my senses. We took a table for four and sat next to each other, facing the rest of the room. "So, tell me about your day," he continued, as if he hadn't been there for all of it.

For whatever reason I found it hard to figure out where to start, like it was all jumbled together despite nothing of consequence had happened. I began to describe how I had woken up in bed and how he surprised me with breakfast. How I had mistaken the red wine for coffee. I could feel his hand moving down my abs and into my board shorts. As he pulled out my erect cock from the shorts my immediate thought was of surprise. I hadn't realized I was hard. I continued to talk about how we went to the beach, while he was jerking me off with one hand under the table. It then hit me that I had no idea what my dick looked like, if it was big or small. I had never seen it. He had transformed me somehow into this surfer. How could I have forgotten something so monumental.

At that point I shot my load under the table. Four or five large pumps. I was suddenly aware again that there were people around us, and looking around tried to figure out if any of them could see I had my dick out. At the same time I was still feeling high or whatever it was. "I'll get a refill," he said, stood up and headed for the bar. I decided to put my dick back into the shorts.

"Hey, dude. Is he like your boyfriend?" someone standing next to me asked. How long had he been there? He was handsome, not quite as tall as I was now, but more muscled. The tight billabong shirt didn't hide much. "Him? No. We just..." I was trying to think of a good word. I wasn't sure what he was, or what was happening at all really. "Wanna check out the dance floor?" "Yeah... Yeah, I would."

I followed him towards the bar, and away to the side into the dance room. It was far from packed, but we were not alone at least. Immediately I regretted following him there, even before he started moving to the music. Once he did I knew I would look silly. I started to mimic his moves best I could. He smiled a crooked smile, though not an unkind one, when he saw what I was doing. He leaned forward and barely audible over the music asked "Are you up for a second round?"

"What do you mean?" I asked back. "I saw what that other dude did to you. I live nearby, if you want to try something that isn't over in minutes."

In the door opening I see him standing with two large drinks in his hands. He looks emotionless, which in itself was a scary contrast to how he looked before. He then drinks one of the drinks in one go, then immediately empties the other one as well. No sooner has he turned away with two empty glasses when I feel a desperate need to take a piss. He's fucking with me.

"Don't go anywhere," I say and dash towards to men's room.

It's empty. I go to the lone urinal and yank my dick out of the white thong. I'm confused, but happy I got there in time to relieve myself. Why am I wearing only a white thong to a bar? As the piss is streaming for longer than I can ever recall I look down my bare smooth legs and find a pair of eye-catching red hightops. When I'm finally done I have a look at myself in the mirror. Cute, young Latino boy with a red baseball cap on his unkempt hair, and a grey shirt. The shirt in a way makes the thong stand out even more and look intentionally inappropriate. Perfect!

I return to the dance floor and find the guy waiting. "There you are. Let's go!" he says, almost demanding. He doesn't say anything on the way to his apartment two blocks away. I keep looking his way, and it feels like my dick is growing bigger every time I look at those muscled arms. His pace is brisk without being conspicuous, he clearly wants us to get to his place as quickly as possible without being seen. In through an unlocked entrance, up two flights of stairs, and in through his apartment door.

As soon as he whisked me in and closed the door behind us he grabs me, shoves me into the wall next to us, and forcefully kisses me on my mouth. "You fucking whore! I'm so fucking horny you better know what you're doing."

He snores loudly again. I had tried to ignore it to spend a few more hours in the bed, but it's getting pointless to try to sleep any more. I carefully get up and get dressed. No need for a shower, now that everything dried. I make a final check I got everything with me that I brought in. There is that nagging feeling that I'm missing something. Well, whatever it was it can't be important. Quietly I exit his apartment and make my way out of the building. I feel restless being so quiet and calm, like it is unnatural for me to be that way. I basically explode in emotions as I exit the building and literally dance down the last few steps.

I try to think what to do next. My mind is like a spinning punch bowl of thoughts and I'm only able to fish out simple verbs. Party! Drink! Dance! Fuck! The sun is barely up, but perhaps I can find some nightclub still open.

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bellesowl · 4 years ago

Text

head over heels

- multiple characters

⤷ kuroo, iwaizumi, atsumu, sakusa

genre: fluff!! ; established relationship

synopsis: in which they realize how head over heels they are for you

word count: 1.4k total :))

warnings: very very slight manga spoilers in iwa’s, i kinda curse a little

- a/n: hi! this is very very late for valentines but i wanted to post it anyways! also, this is very cheesy but when is anything i write not cheesy anyways? & please, i literally write for the same four people BYEE. oh & thank u @omisluvr for beta-ing this ily mwah

- kuroo tetsurou

he falls for your quick wit & intelligence

we all know that kuroo is known for his wit and for being a big, big nerd LMAOAKJSC

i think he would appreciate a s/o who’s on his level academically & could compete with him, esp cause he’s so competitive

and we know how quick with his words this man is- it’s probably one of the reasons tsukishima actually listens to this mf tbh

i feel like he would want a s/o who could bite back and put him in his place every once in a while

probably finds it super hot

“tetsurou!” you yell, glaring at him.

he raises his hands in alarm, amusement and mischief swimming in his eyes. he had embarrassed you in front of the whole class, immediately correcting you when you claimed that the reaction on the board was an endothermic reaction when in reality, it was an exothermic reaction. sure, he was right, but he didn’t have to point it out like that!

“what?” he questions, “it’s not my fault you lacked docosapentaenoic acid when you were a child.” he finishes with a smug smirk on his face.

the scowl on your face morphs into a smirk at his words and his own falls at your face. “i think you mean docosahexaenoic acid, oh wise one?” you ask, sarcasm dripping from your tone.

he recovers quickly, yelling about how easy it is to mistake the two. at your laugh, he realizes just how lucky he and whipped he is for you because this? he wouldn’t trade this for the world.

- iwaizumi hajime

he falls for your independence

lord knows that having to deal with oikawa practically all his life + the seijoh third years, my man would not be able to deal with a s/o who is super dependent on him

sure, he finds it cute when you’re being clingy & want a hug or a kiss but someone who constantly insecure or is just overall emotionally dependent on him - i feel like it would be a slight turnoff

now, if you feel insecure, tell him because he would also def appreciate your honesty and that wouldn’t necessarily be seen as a problem

it becomes a problem when you push all your problems onto him and expect him to fix it

but a s/o who can work out their problems on their own but still comes to him for advice and support?

yeah, he’s def in love

you hear a knock on your door and quickly move to open it, hoping it’s who you think it is.

“hey love,” hajime sighs as you usher him into your home, “i’m so sorry i’ve been so busy lately, with volleyball and all the extra applications to be able to move to the states, it’s been a lot.”

you nod, understanding written on your face. “don’t worry about it babe, i get it! do you need any help with anything?”

he shakes his head, instead choosing to wrap his arms around you, nuzzling his nose in your hair and breathing in your intoxicating scent. “being with you is enough. i really am sorry though, did you need anything?”

you shift slightly, guiding him over to the couch and cuddling up to him there, “all i need is this, hajime.”

he kisses the top of your head and while you both talk about everything and nothing, and it hits him that this is it. you’re it for him - because when he’s with you, he feels like he’s home.

- miya atsumu

he falls for your unrelenting support

i think we all know that atsumu was left out a lot as a kid & i think that one of his biggest fears is that his loving s/o secretly prefers his brother like everyone else

so he probably tries to scare you off by showing his ugly side first- like constantly arguing with you or canceling dates in favor of an extra hour or two of volleyball practice- and you stay?

he realizes that no matter what, you won’t leave him

“oi! what are ya still doin’ here, slug?” osamu yells, walking into the gym.

“what do ya think? havin’ a tea party?” atsumu quips back, annoyed that his brother interrupted his practice.

osamu grabs a ball by his feet and chucks it at his brother. “do ya even know what time it is?” at atsumu’s look of confusion he decides that you’re too good for his idiot brother. “it’s already past 8, you’re late for yer movie date with y/n.”

atsumu’s eyes widen and osamu rolls his eyes at his brother’s frantic form, trying to clean up and get out of there as quickly as he can. “just go, i’ll stay to clean up.” osamu sighs, “but you owe me onigiri for a week!”

back at your house, you’re sitting on the couch, patiently waiting for your boyfriend- who’s late, again. you jump at the frantic knocks at your front door and you open it to a very sweaty, very disheveled atsumu.

“shit sorry babe! i left my phone on the bleachers and lost track of time but-” you cut him off with a kiss. his eyes widen before fluttering shut.

“go shower, tsumu- you stink!” you laugh at his scowl “we can probably still get a couple movies in before my parents get back home.”

he nods, “i really am sorry babe. i didn’t mean to come late, i just got so caught up in my serves and sets and i-”

“it’s fine love, you have to practice to get better, i understand. i would never tell you to skip out on something so important to you when you make sure to come see me in the end anyway.” you interrupt him, “and besides, i love to brag about how my boyfriend is one of the best setters in the nation” you add with a wink.

he gives you a peck on the cheek before heading towards your bathroom, thinking about how lucky he is to have you by his side. he decides that this will be the last time he’s late because god forbid he does something to ruin something as precious as this.

- sakusa kiyoomi

he falls for your respectful and understanding attitude

my poor baby

probably had to deal with getting so much shit for his germophobic preferences

so when you guys started dating he def asked you to respect his boundaries

and when you did without questioning him?? or making fun of him??

he was shocked because even his own cousin would have something to say about his proclivity for extreme cleanliness

you walk into the huge stadium, eyes searching for a mop of black hair, slightly terrified of getting lost. out of the corner of your eye, you see a flash of neon green & yellow.

“komori!” you yell, hoping he could hear you over the excited chatter all around. you see him whip his head around, trying to find the source of the sound. you yell a couple more times, jumping up and down like a lunatic. he finally spots you and smiles, walking over.

“oh, hey! are you here for kiyoomi?” he asks with a mischievous glint in his eyes, already leading you over to where your boyfriend is, “but i have no clue why you would look for him in the middle of the floor. don’t you know your boyfriend by now?”

you slap him lightly on the arm but excuse yourself when you see your boyfriend hiding in the corner with the most hateful glare on his face. as you walk away and towards him, you notice komori walking over to a tall, dark-haired boy. that must be the setter omi was telling me about, you think. you brush it off, deciding you’d bring it up another time and you tap your boyfriend lightly. the glare he gives you almost makes you want to drop dead right there but you notice how his eyes soften and his overall demeanor brightens.

he pulls you towards him, surprising you and everyone watching, and mumbles into your ear, “i thought you had a tutoring session?”

you pull back slightly and notice how he leans down, practically asking for a kiss. you peck his cheek before giggling, “i wanted it to be a surprise! are you surprised? did you miss me?”

he rolls his eyes before pulling down his mask and kissing you properly. “yes and ... yes” he answers, a light blush apparent on his cheeks.

“awwww! you have a crush on me!!! no, you looove me!! that’s so embarrassing!!” you laugh and he shakes his head but silently agrees because yeah, if the permanent butterflies and erratic heartbeat are any indications, he does love you. and he doesn’t plan on stopping for the rest of your lives.

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tonguetiedraven · 2 years ago

Note

I'm not allowed to come up with prompts bc I just find rabbitholes instead. it was "Bon if we turn the pages of you book can we paint you nails?" to 'where did the sleepover get the nail polish selection?' to 'mephisto's stash' to 'does he even have painted nails? the man wears gloves but vibes say yes' to 'volume 19 cover confirms, man paints his nails'. At least no one can ever say I'm not dedicated to doing a bit. Anyway all I'm saying is exwires have sleepovers bc they're teenagers! let them have normal teenager things!

Mephisto absolutely wears nail polish and thoroughly enjoys manicures and pedicures.

And yes, the kids absolutely deserve to have sleepovers <3

— — — — —

They are black tonight, and Ryuuji can appreciate the edgy touch. Shiemi always paints him green with intricate flowers, Izumo has tried pink once (but only on his thumb so he let it pass) while Paku always tries to match his outfit.

He isn’t sure which of them has done this. He has been lost in his book and has long since given up trying to stop them. The girls will do what they want and arguing isn’t worth it.

Rin’s are blue tonight (they were out of his favorite red), and the light shade makes his eyes pop any time he moves to brush his bangs from his face. Shima’s are always some atrocious neon color (Izumo likes to make it clash with his hair, but they are still painted perfectly.

Konekomaru’s are alway soft browns or grays or earthy pinks. Nothing that stands out dramatically, though he does like when Shiemi adds mandalas to the design.

Yukio lets them do a clear coat, and that is usually it. They can occasionally add special ingredients to the polish, and Shiemi can occasionally coax him into clovers.

Takara’s hands are always hidden in his puppets, so Ryuuji doesn’t know what he gets on his nails.

The girls are never the same, and they are always fun to see. Flowers and kittens and foxes and mascots he doesn’t know, sweets and stripes and spells and countless little decorations that are always fun. He’s even seen summoning circles on Izumo’s nails.

The nail painting is only one of the things that happen on their hangouts.

Alright. They are technically sleepovers, but Ryuuji is always a bit squeamish about calling them that. It brings images of giggling (which yeah, they laugh but Ryuuji does not giggle), hair ribbons (he has let Shiemi and Rin braid his hair once and he did not allow the ribbons), gossiping (they trade intel, not gossip), and childish things. Plus people give them double looks when they hear that it is their entire group.

They’ve never done anything like that. They just fall asleep in the twins’ common room. They drag a bunch of blankets and old futons together and more or less collapse on the large nest of blankets and dolls. (He can never figure out who the stuffed animals belong to. And it grows every time he sees the pile. He’s even added two blankets and three stuffed coal-tars he’s won from Mephyland to the hoard.)

It’s fun and not weird, and calling them sleepovers makes them sound weird, so Ryuuji just calls them hangouts.

Anyway, it’s black tonight. Shiemi is adding a few final touches to her own toenails —it looks like she’s gone with a cherry blossom color scheme— and Rin is trying to throw popcorn into Shima’s mouth but he’s making a mess of it which means Kuro is pouncing around to get the missed pieces and both Konekomaru and Izumo are trying desperately to get the cat sidhe's attention.

Yukio is looking over the rules for the game they are going to be playing (even though he knows them by heart) while Sei fusses over the cards and boards. It’s the sort of thing that involves resource management, which means it’s going to be down to him, Yukio, and Shiemi who has unnaturally good luck at any game. (Maybe there is something to her clovers.)

Rin will be the first one out, which is just as well because he will go make snacks and then they'll all get to enjoy them, and Ryuuji is going to need extra fuel to beat everyone. (Shiemi has painted clovers on Yukio's thumbs. Hopefully there isn't anything to her clovers.)

Konekomaru catches Kuro and cuddles him close as Yukio motions everyone forward for the game. Izumo takes the spot by Konekomaru's side, trying to coax Kuro to her own lap with a bit of popcorn.

Ryuuji snags a stuffed dragon and flops over on his stomach next to Rin. (The dolls were nice to lay on and the spot ensures he'll have first pick of the snacks when Rin gets back.)

"Why can't we do spin the bottle?" Shima whines as he takes a seat next to Yukio.

"Because no one wants to kiss you." Izumo answers without missing a beat. Kuro is staring contemplatively at her popcorn.

"You're so mean to me!"

She's painted his nails a soft lavender that goes well with his hair. She must have felt generous, or the red being empty has really thrown her off. (Ryuuji is inclined to believe the first even if it would earn him a punch in the arm to say it.)

"We could play never have I ever after this?" Paku asks, trying to placate both her friends. "As a compromise."

Shima perks right up as Ryuuji takes his cards and helps walk Rin through what each one is (again.)

"That'll work."

"But," Paku adds, giving Shima an appraising look, "the group has the right to veto questions."

The idea is met with general approval despite Shima’s immediate whine of No fair! and But everyone will veto all my questions!

Izumo returns that he shouldn’t be a pervert then and Kuro grows big enough to drape himself over her lap and Konekomaru. His tails (deliberately) upset the popcorn bowl and the kernels go everywhere. Chaos reigns for a moment as everyone dodges they flying snack, and then it’s a scramble to make sure Kuro doesn’t eat it all. You’ll get fat! Rin warns, earning a hiss of insult.

They settle back down, Rin’s tail drapes over Ryuuji’s ankle and Yukio’s knee is a little uncomfortable where it digs into his side, but they’re together and having fun and sleepover or not, they’re one of Ryuuji’s favorite things now.

#ryuuji suguro #ryuji suguro #exwires #my tumblr fics #ao no exorcist #blue exorcist #ane #aoe #aoex #bon suguro #rin okumura #shima renzou #izumo kamiki #konekomaru miwa #shiemi moriyama #yukio okumura #kuro

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behindyourbarrette · 3 years ago

Text

like you a latte - party parasols/stovetop

←previous | series masterlist | join my taglist

pairing: spencer reid x reader

word count: 2k

warnings: brief alcohol mention, none other than that

a/n: and just like that, it’s over! i cannot believe it. the reception to this series has surpassed my greatest expectations! thank you all for being here, reading, and cheering me on! i hope you like how our two dorks’ story ends :) as always TELL ME WHAT U THINK orrrr REBLOG! both help me, a new writer, out tremendously :)

—

You’re late.

It’s a cruel twist of fate, but a twist of fate nonetheless. Your afternoon classes ran late, and the roads were congested on the way home. There are a million reasons why you’re late, and none of them make up for the disappointment you feel.

It’s a sad attempt at getting ready. You’ve been texting with Penelope all week—ever since Spencer was called away, really, about the team’s plan to decompress at a bar afterwards. While the setting strikes you as odd at first, you quickly realize that you haven’t been to a bar since undergrad.

It’s strangely exciting. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror before you hitch a ride with Pen, purse slung over your shoulder and eyes wide with anticipation. You look like yourself—a smile on your face, in an outfit you feel confident in. With a leap, you close the door behind you, keys jingling in your hands.

The ride across town is short, and Penelope peppers you with questions the entire time. While she’s not a profiler, she should be one—you’re positive that she’s picked up on the shift in the dynamic between you and Spencer, and she has no qualms about asking. You groan, feeling a little like you’re being interrogated by an older sister.

“Spence is so private! I’m still surprised he let us meet you. Spare me a little detail, darling?”

You chuckle, your cheeks warming. You would like to know what Spencer says about you when you’re not there to hear it. Your heart thrums against your chest in a quick rhythm as you draw closer to the bar, and you feel a twist of juvenile excitement when you catch sight of the neon lights.

It’s a little late, the city stuck in the lull between day and night. Lights twinkle above you as you hop out of Penelope’s car, laughing and joking. In the corner of your eye, you catch sight of a black SUV. Then, a familiar lanky figure.

“Hey, Spence.”

Penelope shoots you a knowing look and rushes off to meet JJ, and you’re left alone. Spencer opens the door for you, tugging on it to reveal the inside of the bar. It has all the makings of a great place to have fun. Multicolor lights, a dart board, a wall of liquor, and booming 2000’s hits. You grin as you step inside, into the throng of people. You spot Emily at the bar, having beat the team there.

It’s crowded, and proving difficult to push and pull past the dancing bodies. Looking up at Spencer, he seems on edge. You take a deep breath and begin to wind through the crowd, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you slip your hand into his. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. A grin makes its home on both of your faces as you approach the bar, greeted by a few new people.

“This is Morgan. And that’s Hotchner. You know Emily and JJ.” Spencer gestures to both of the new figures. You shake both of their hands, noting the excited smiles on their faces. The entire group seems happy, exchanging glances as Spencer sits at the bar, eyes on you. Morgan you’ve heard about, and he’s just as suave in person as described to you by Penelope and sometimes, Spencer. He asks about what you do for work, looking between you and Spencer with something that looks like intrigue.

“I’m a barista, downtown. I’m also studying law.” You offer, a little bashful. These people are all incredibly established, and you’re…wooing people through coffee. Derek takes a sip of his drink, smiling like he knows something you don’t.

“You, my friend,” He says, pointing to emphasize his words, “Make the world go around. Seriously. I don’t know what this team’d do without coffee.”

You blush, looking up at Spencer. A new expression is seated on his face—it looks like pride. Penelope drags Derek onto the dance floor, and you watch them slow dance with a new degree of fondness for the both of them. Despite the fact that the bar is blasting Usher, the bass booming through the floor, they make a waltz work. Emily and JJ step away from the bar to compete at darts, their voices carrying over the music as the stakes heighten. You order a frozen margarita, and Spencer orders a water.

“Can I get one of the, uh, fancy umbrellas? And one for him, too?” You ask the bartender, a grisly man who seems disenchanted with your request. Spencer just watches as you take the toothpick and press it into your slush, dropping a parasol into his water after you’re done. Satisfied, you grin up at him.

“Match with me.”

He’s pretty like this—you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile this much. The bar fades into the background as you watch his focus shift, eyes trailing across your face.

“You, uh. You look beautiful.”

Something catches and pulls in your chest. He means it—his cheeks are red with the effort of it, but his eyes never leave you. It occurs to you while this isn’t a very conventional first date, a few traditions are worth keeping. You offer him a soft smile, setting your drink down.

“So do you.”

You feel a little brave; he does that to you. In any other circumstance, you’d be nervous. The bar is loud and you can feel his friends watching you, their gazes less than subtle as you convince yourself to take the leap.

You’re in luck. He moves first, offering you a crooked smile as he takes your face into his hands. You reach up, arms around his neck as he leans in. The excited cheers from the dance floor are lost on the both of you as he kisses you, softly and with something that tastes a little like cinnamon and a lot like hope. He isn’t hesitant—his initial fierceness melts into something tender and warm. With a grin, you pull away to watch him blush and straighten the collar of his shirt. You reach up to press a decisive kiss to his temple, and you can almost hear Penelope’s squeal from across the bar.

You don’t really believe in fate. But some things are just too good to be coincidental. You’ve turned back to your drink, trying to tone down your smile when you hear David Bowie begin to croon over the speakers. Your face cracks into a grin, and you practically yell over the disco as you attempt to drag Spencer onto the dance floor. He’s strong, and your attempts to tug him forward are futile. He looks amused by your efforts, though, smirking as you pull on his forearm.

“Holy shit, Spence. I love this song.”

“I don’t dance. Really. I have, three left feet, as they say." He makes a show of shuffling in demonstration, hands in his pockets, and the sight is so adorable you think you might cry. Instead, you laugh, and turn your head to catch sight of Penelope, who is already mid-shimmy.

“For me?”

You say, batting your eyelashes as you peer up at him. To your total surprise, his expression softens and he reaches for you. The feeling of your forearms dwarfed in his hands lingers as you both walk onto the floor, swaying lightly. You’d let him step on your feet a million times just to see the look on his face as you spin around, laughing as you go. It feels a little like fate.

---

stovetop, months and months later

Everything is better up close.

It is not the first time you have considered this; where you once kept your distance, lingering in unknowns, you now lean in. Spencer is not someone to be admired from afar; you prefer this. You’re tucked into the crook of his arm, watching his chest rise and fall with each slow, sleepy breath. It’s early morning, sunlight peeking through the curtains and warming your skin in long slices.

There’s work to be done, phone calls to be answered. People to be saved. Coffee to be poured. Suits to be filed. But here, feeling his heartbeat thrum against your own, life feels a little less urgent. There is a space to be occupied, a world where he holds you until you both wake up, and time slows into a delicate push and pull.

Later, you wake up and he’s gone. While familiar, the low sting of this isn’t lost on you. Stretching out into his side of the bed—technically, it’s all his side of the bed, considering you’re the one who consistently overtakes more of his apartment as time goes by—you watch the morning light grow brighter. There’s a stack of books on your bedside, each curated for you. This is how you two are; you read, and work, and miss him. He comes back, invariably, sometimes a little bruised or quiet in his contemplation of what he sees, but he always comes back.

It’s only after you’ve pulled yourself out of bed and padded towards the kitchen that you hear a faint gurgle, followed by the rush of steam. A smile breaks across your face, and once you round the corner you see him. He’s fiddling with the Moka pot you bought him for Christmas, absorbed in the mechanics of the safety valve. He doesn’t see you for a few moments, eyes narrowed as he focuses. A small smile forms on his face as you walk towards him, crossing the kitchen counter with your arms outstretched.

You press into his side, burying your face into the warmth of his shoulder. It’s easier than you think you deserve; this is a way of holding you, too. Still working on the coffee pot, he lifts his arm and pulls you close.

“Good morning,” He mutters, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “The air pressure is too high.” You nod sagely, wrapping your arms around his waist. He eventually settles and pours the coffee, golden brown and just how you like it, into two mugs. You hum contentedly, watching as he stirs creamer in.

“I would have used the espresso machine if you had asked,” you point out, eyes flicking up to his. You hold your mug delicately; it’s hot, and you think you may have worn the ceramic out. It’s only been a few months since he gave it to you, insisting that the “World’s Best Lawyer” inscription was fitting. The rest of your mugs are now collecting dust in the cabinet, forever unused. “I was awake.”

He presses a kiss to your cheek, his stubble scratching against your skin. You smile against him, and gently clink the rim of your mug against his. After you’ve both sipped, he speaks.

“I wanted to make some for you,” he says. He takes another sip, this time narrowing his eyes. “It’s not very good.”

You set your mug down, and reach for him. Pressing kisses to each part of his face—both his cheeks, then his forehead, then his nose, then that freckle you like on the cut of his jaw—you disagree. You sink back onto your feet after you’re satisfied, watching his blush deepen as you pull away.

“It's perfect.” His face brightens a little, and this spurs you forward. Any apprehension about being this cheesy is absolved by the way he’s looking at you.

“I mean, you probably could have done better. You’re better at measuring.” He counters, just because he knows it will make you smile.

“I love it. Because it’s you.” You mumble against the rim of your mug, grinning wickedly, and you’re caught off guard when he reaches for you, catching you in a kiss and holding you tightly. Your arms around his neck, you grin. You decide mornings are your new favorite time of day.

taglist <3

@everyonesfavoritepipecleaner @coldlilheart @idonotexiste @aberrant-annie @onyourfingertips @bakugouswh0r3 @uptowngotmedown @infinite-tides @chaosconcerns @littlewritersinspace @okivia @forever-not-gonna-sink @insert-gay-here @just-another-persona123 @winniemjf @jammiebirch @thedancingnerdmermaid @the-chaotic-cow @briefgoateeking @ceridwen-02 @rare-breed-of-human

#agh it's over :( but in a good way i hope #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid series #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fluff fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds self insert #rorywrites #like you a latte

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hollyhomburg · 4 years ago

Text

Are you going to Stay?

(Fuckboy! Jungkook x Reader) (Idol au) (Soulmate Au)

Summary: It’s been a year since he last saw you, and every day he misses you more. It was only a matter of time until he turned up at your door asking for another chance.

Tags: angst with a happy ending, best friends to lovers, Themes of unhealthy coping mechanisms, sexual tension, emotional intimacy, physical intimacy, brief sexual scenes, Jungkook really loves the reader's thighs, Touch starved Jungkook, Mentions of hookups, talks of love languages, alcohol mention, Jungkook is intoxicated for most of this.

W/c: 6.4k

Song rec: Jk- Still with you

A/N: there is a lot of time jumps in this where Jungkook is thinking through his memories while drunk, so if it sounds confusing that's the point. this is really near and dear to my heart- I wrote the bulk of this in one hour after listening to jungkook’s song still with you. it is directly inspired by that song. A lot of the dialogue in this story is based on things that have been said to me or I’ve said to others- so yeah- hope you like this self-indulgent story!

“Of course I’ll never turn you away- but…do me a favor Jungkook, and don’t come back until you’ve decided what you want from me.”

One year. It’s been a little more than one year since he’s seen you and still- the last words you said to him haunt him as he walks through the rainy streets of Seoul. His fellow strangers on the sidewalk giving him a few weird looks for not having an umbrella.

He pulls up his facemask a little more, the bucket hat soaked through to his hair. The cold rain feels good against the back of his neck- the contact startling. Maybe Jungkook’s just too touch starved to make the right choices right now. Maybe its because he only wants someone to touch him if it’s you.

It didn’t always use to be that way. before he’d met you; he’d regularly needed a more sexual outlet for all his frustration, excess energy, and stress. It was healthy right? To need that? To want a connection without any strings in his line of work.

Jungkook is a truthful person, and he stays that way by only ever lying to himself.

When it rains in Seoul- it’s one of the few times that it ever feels quiet. The air pinning down the smoke and the smog, leaving space for the longing to clog up his lungs and spill out red on his tongue. Memories of you, the way you’d felt in his arms, your smile- your everything. So many months without you and Jungkook can’t help but miss you a little more with every moment that passes.

Some nights he gets restless like this and can’t help but walk and walk and hope his feet didn’t lead him to your door. Sure- at least half of the year that he hadn’t seen you had been because of the tour and the comeback schedule. But the last few months were his fault. He hadn’t had the courage to text you or pop up at your door. His stubbornness mixed with guilt, or something else entirely- a different sort of longing for someone you missed having, but had never really had in the first place.

Jungkook is great at lying to himself. That hasn’t changed in the last year.

Back then Jungkook had been too much of a coward to tell you how he felt. And so he was left out here- standing in the rain wallowing and wondering what could have been.

You’d been best friends this time last year.

You’d been his one secret hideaway from his idol life, someone to drink with and sneak onto roofs and watch the stars with. A piece of the youth that he’d never had, but more than that too- something entirely new. How many times had you said, “it’s never too late to be a kid.” and never judged him for turning up at your door and needing a hug.

Your entire relationship was some sort of reclamation for him, a better future found than the one he faced now. Going out sometimes, always worried about being spotted, never really having fun. Always looking for something better when he knew he wouldn’t find it. When he knew all he really wanted was to go back in time before he fucked it up with you.

You were his emergency contact; his someone to turn too on a bad day, or when he got too drunk at a club and couldn’t call management because he didn’t want to get in trouble. His drunken self that always wanted to see you- to drink in your laugh like a shot that made his knees weak. Your care, so freely given better than any party or hook up.

The countless times you’d taken him home to your apartment and given him a pair of soft pajamas and dealt with his drunken happy babbling about everything- always asking him about the places he’s seen and what one been his favorite. sometimes fooling him with shots of water just so that he’d get some liquid in him. his relentless pressuring for you to take a sip too- just to know the sweet truth- that your lips had touched the same spot his had.

Jungkook is a fool when he’s in love. He tells himself he would have let your friendship go on forever if it meant never losing you.

“What do you mean you don’t like New York!?” you’d asked, looking down at him with his head in your lap. Jungkook trying to resist turning over to nuzzle his head into your thighs- you’d always had such pretty thighs- the kind that look like they’d keep the memory of his fingers like memory foam if he squeezed hard enough. He wants to sleep on them. And he’s dangerously close to waking drunken poetic about them- marshmallows or clouds or just- fluffy.

He’s whiney when he answers but you don’t look bothered you only look endeared, helplessly swallowed by a wave of affection. “The buildings are too tall there and the city isn’t colorful enough- I love how Seoul just goes on and on and on, I could walk it forever if I wasn’t worried about being followed.”

He still loved how the neon lights looked in the puddles of the rain, the color bleeding everywhere with nowhere to go. The way he sees it now crossing a street in front of a makeup shop, the neon lights blinking red even though it’s closed.

But in every pink and red he can’t help but see your lips- your favorite shade of lipstick that you’d been wearing when you’d given him a key to your apartment. you were strange like him- there were some things you never liked wearing out of the house and that shade was one of them. No matter how many times he told you it looked nice, you'd always rub it off with a makeup wipe before you left.

He remembers looking down at your house key, and the little keychain with a fluffy black ball attached at the end of it, heart-shaped. “I thought you didn’t like me popping around like a stray puppy?”

You laughed at that “you’re more like a stray pure-breed from the west minster dog show that I’ve kidnapped- but you should take it anyway- I know you like to get away sometimes- and it beats having to wait for me to come home right?”

He’s got the keychain and key in his pocket now- he rarely ever takes it out of his bag. And he fiddles with it in his pocket- the softness no less soothing then it was at the beginning. He rarely ever leaves the house without it- he tells himself it’s his good luck charm but he knows it’s because he wants to fools himself. Jungkook can’t be himself unless he has a piece of you.

Maybe that's what soulmates are. People that you voluntarily give a piece of you, to keep it safe.

He’s so lost in his memories that Jungkook almost tips his shoulder into someone passing by- narrowly avoiding getting thrown into the street as a result. Is it the several shots he’s downed that make him clumsy? Or the way that thoughts of you fill his head and leave no room for things as simple as the pull of gravity. Is it the memory of you that makes him shake- or the fact that he’s had too much caffeine and hasn’t slept in days?

Someone sitting in a cafe looks up and does a double-take, but he’s already moved on by the time they’ve lifted up their phone. The best they get is a picture of his back disappearing around the corner. He wonders if they’re going to type on some message board tonight “I think I saw an idol walking around in the rain, I wonder what could be on his mind?”

He remembers your words the day after your first kiss.“Do you ever wonder if we’re soulmates that met in a different lifetime? Or that we met a lifetime too soon?”

He’d tilted his head to the side, not understanding what you meant. You’d told him you were too drunk to remember the kiss the night before. But the way you’re looking at him now it almost seems like you do- but just didn’t want to tell him. How could you be worried you’d been too forward when he was the one who had initiated it?

“Never mind Kookie- I’m so tired I’m getting philosophical, we should go home before it gets any later.”

Jungkook’s soul is certainly searching for something now, the world spins for a moment, and he loses track of where he is- the same way he’d lose track of you all those months ago. Those few miss begotten kisses like a wrong turn made on a highway- because he hadn’t been ready for something sensual, something soft and lingering like you’d been wanting.

The night that you’d gotten a little too close, your lips wet and hot and sticky with sweet drinks against each other. You crashing onto your bed with a giggle, so trashed. Jungkook helping you take your pants off because you could barely see straight, and it wasn’t sexual at all- when he paused to kiss the leading line of your knee. At least not the way that he’s used to. This is loving.

He’d kissed you up to your underwear. You squeal in surprise when he bits into your thigh a little bit. Teeth sinking into the skin he always wanted to touch and grab. Unable to stop his hands from grabbing fistfuls of your skin, so sweet and soft. You giggle when he does, his fingers hitting a sensitive spot and making your leg jerk out and almost kick him- too ticklish. “God I’ve been waiting so long to do this”

He’d uttered and whatever words you’d been about to say die in your throat. Suddenly a little less eager then you’ve been before. “Can we go slow?”

“Of course baby” Jungkook nods, and you don’t end up going any further that night, or at least any further than some heavy petting and making out. “God it’s almost 4am- we should sleep” both of your lips chapped red. and Jungkook feels like he can’t function without his lips pressed to your skin, nips at your neck, and your throat as you trail your hands up and down the back of his neck. All over. He feels and smells you all over and it’s driving him crazy.

Eventually, you wind down. Jungkook stretched out on top of you, his hips in-between your legs with only a few layers of thin fabric separating you. His ear pressed to your heart to listen to it. His body jelly finally sated to be so close to you. Your words are shy and scared in the darkness. His arousal burns low- and it’s not the most important thing- not in the slightest.

“When I wake up, are you going to still be here Jungkook?” you had to ask- because he’s told you all of his tells before. You know his m.o. even if you’ve never seen it in person. you know that he never stays the night after hookups. had looked over one too many text messages of girls calling him an asshole, begging you to tell him how to respond.

“I’ll stay,” he says, and at that moment- he swears he never felt a hit of the icky fear of being not enough. Curled up with you he’s not afraid of your relationship falling apart, you hating him, or you not wanting this. Every reason why he’d never stayed the night after hooking up before, invalid because he’s with you- someone he loves. this wasn’t just another hookup; he loves you.

“Promise you won't?”

“I promise.”

And then in the morning, when he’d woken up with a pounding head and found you curled up next to him. Horror filling him but of course- you’d been drunk too. You have a few hickeys on your neck and he checks himself in the bathroom mirror afraid for a moment before he sees that luckily- his skin is unscathed. The fear- the worry, everything crashing down on him as he watches you asleep in your bed, relaxed and peaceful.

Jungkook isn’t a relationship person- he’s never been in one that didn’t end in his heart being broken. He can’t be- his love with you wasn’t supposed to start this way- not after another drunken night. Like so many, he’s had before in the past that have ended poorly.

He doesn’t know where to go from here besides leaving. He’d even told you once “I don't think I could ever start a relationship after just- hooking up. like how do show someone the most vulnerable parts of you and then expect them to love you.”

He leaves, starts the schedule for the day feeling terrible, the others asking why he looks so upset, why he’s snappy. After practice, he checks his phone. Finding only a single text from you; ‘you promised me Jungkook’ and nothing else. And he hates it- hates everything- because he wants to love you- he really does. But maybe a part of him doesn’t know how to love safely without ruining himself in the process.

Maybe that’s all that it was, love. The whole thing falling apart if you aren’t willing to love a person in the way that they want to be loved. Or maybe it’s less premeditated than that. He thinks about love languages, about how you’re supposed to give and receive love.

Though you’d already had the right kind of intimacy. You’d need a little more time then he’d been willing to give you. You’d told him that the next time you’d seen him. And you’d spent a few weeks pretending nothing was wrong when everything felt awkward suddenly. And by the time you were ready to adjust- Jungkook had convinced himself that you didn’t mean anything to him.

The time that you said you’d been going out to meet with one of your male coworkers and wouldn’t be able to hang out that night. Jealousy stinging Jungkook’s heart like a beestings- and for the first time in months he’d gone out looking for a hookup.

The hickeys you’d seen low on his hips the next day when he’d stretches up and you’d barked out “what the fuck is that” scalding and angry. Jungkook shrugging it off like it didn’t mean anything. The words he’d said haunt him in the hours of the night when he can’t sleep and only the hum of the air conditioner can hear the words he wishes he had said. If only to save you the disappointment of thinking he was a different person than he is.

“You went out with that guy last night- so why can’t I have a little fun?”

“He’s my coworker Jungkook you can’t honestly think- oh- I get it- you were jealous.”

Jungkook spluttering, rebuking your claim with a roll of his eyes, “there isn’t anything to get jealous over. We’re not trying to be in a relationship anymore.”

“That’s not what you said last-”

“Well I changed my mind” but he hadn’t not really- he would never change his mind about you he was only being stubborn.

“What do you mean you changed your mind Jungkook- you were the one who wanted this.”

“But I didn’t expect you’d be so clingy, and we can’t always be together and I just- I have needs and you can’t fill all of them” you flinch back, and Jungkook instantly wishes he hadn’t said the words. Because they were a lie- a lie meant to hurt. If anything he was the clingy one. He just- he couldn’t let it go.

“So you fucked up a perfectly good friendship because you were just lonely? I’m not one of your hookups- we’re supposed to be friends Kookie.”

His heart dropping, “you mean we’re not that anymore?”

“I never wanted anything with you if it meant jeopardizing that” and then him- unable to stop himself from asking you. “Are we still friends?”

“of course Mookie, I think I just need some time to think…you should go Jungkook.”

The first conversation you’d ever had about it is what he remembers too. “Do you think I’m a bad person?” your snort enough of an answer as you take a swig of the bottle of Soju. His hand splayed on the towel that you’d lied down so that the roof tar didn’t stain your clothes. “of course not.”

“Even when I’m…” this makes him uncomfortable even to talk about.

“The problem you started with? People who hook up and pretend that there aren’t any feelings involved but in reality, the denying of feelings tells you enough about how they feel. You wouldn’t have to stop yourself from getting closer to people if they didn’t matter to you- and if you weren’t afraid.”

Your shoulder had been so close- he’d been able to lean his head there. He remembers how good it had felt when you’d combed your fingers through his hair. (if he likes your thighs then you like his hair). So much better than any hook up he might have had tonight. In truth- he’d been halfway to some girl's apartment when he’d called it off- and decided to go to your place instead.

Sure- you might not give him the exact kind of physical closeness that he was craving, but he loves the head pets, the way you’ll play with his hands. Like his hands are an extension of yourself, the motion so automatic like you barely realized you were doing it.

He always left your place feeling more like himself. With everyone else, it felt like he had to fight to get himself understood, had to dilute or distill his words so that they’d get it, but somehow you were always on the same page. “I wouldn’t be too worried Kookie, you’ll grow out of it eventually.”

“You sure?” he’s so relaxed- he almost feels like he’s going to fall asleep against your shoulder. He shifts a little restless, turning so he can press his body against the line of your legs. Curling into your warmth.

“Yeah, I grew out of it too.” with anyone else- that sentence would feel patronizing. But with you- it was just comforting.

How wrong he was- even now- you were all he could think about. Maybe that’s why somehow he ends up at your door. no- that’s not right- The reason why he walks to your house right now, a year after the last time he’s seen you was because he’d released that song today- the one about you and missing you.

Of course, he couldn’t stop himself from checking in on you- still knew the username to all your old accounts. Enough to go and check if you’d commented on his song- and you had- a single broken heart emoji. Whether you meant for him to find it- he didn’t know. The fact that you still checked upon him the same way he checked up on you. That was enough for him to need to start drinking.

Your door is the same as it was back then, your slides sitting on the stoop- just inside the small alcove to keep them out of the rain. Your small house tucked into a side street. One of the last few in Seoul that wasn’t a complex- because you’d wanted a yard outback. You’re home, the light from the windows spilling like honey out into the wet street. You’d said that you’d never turn him away. So Jungkook steals himself and knocks, quiet. Ready for it to go unanswered because it’s so late.

You don’t look much different either when you open the door, hair shiny and dry like you’ve just blow-dried it already in your pajamas. “Jungkook!? What are you- your shoes are soaking wet! You’re soaking wet! Come inside before you catch a cold” it’s true- he must have stepped in a few puddles on his walk here. his chunky shoes slosh when he steps into your entryway.

In a moment all of your shock and apprehension melting away. And you’re fussing over him like its only been a few days since you’ve seen him and not a year. Your hands pushing his jacket off his shoulders. His mouth dry for a moment before the words tumble out again.

“I miss you- I miss you so fucking much and it hurts. Can we talk? Please I-” your hands freeze where you’re popping his soaking jacket into your drier. Hands suddenly hovering on your counter.

Your house is just as bright and well-loved as Jungkook remembers it. Some days he lives more in those happy memories than he does in the present. The countless hours you’d spent on your couch, teaching Jungkook how to cook a little better in your kitchen. Even now- something sweet bakes in the oven, fresh bread or some other baked goods

Hours spent in your little nook in the corner taking personality quizzes on the Internet just to pass some times. The love languages quiz. “I think it's bullshit that they don’t consider food as a love language- because I love cooking for the people I love.”

and Jungkook blushing and finishing his quiz in peace, finding out that his love language was physical affection too, tied with quality time. But that didn’t matter- the only thing he could think about was your love language. You love to cook for people you love, and he’s unable to stop listing all of the times that you’d cooked for him in his head. Nearly once a week at least.

Did that mean you loved him? You hover near that spot now. The first time that Jungkook had ever truly realized you were both falling in love.

Now that he’s not in the rain you can tell that he’s crying. His eyes bloodshot and red like he’s been doing it for hours. You reach out cupping his cold cheek with your warm hand and rubbing the moisture away. Is it a tear or just some rain? You can’t tell. And Jungkook’s whole body shivers at the contact, so sweet, he can’t help but teeter, almost falling into you as he tries to lean into it.

Maybe he’s drunker than he thinks.

“I think you should shower first- you’re shaking Kookie- you need to warm up.” he nods quietly and lets you be his benevolent puppetmaster as you make him take off his pants soaking and stuck to his legs, leaving them with his shoes and jacket. Leading him to your bathroom. You tell him to leave his shirt and boxers outside so you can put them in the drier too.

You’d always been so good with this- ready to baby him and heal his woes whenever he’d come to you after a particularly bad day. Before he’d had you, he’d supplemented his usual bad habit with a hook up to sate his need to be self-destructive. A month into your friendship he’d stopped because by then he’d only needed you. You’d patched him up when he’d been feeling hurt- without him ever having to hurt himself.

Compared to you, everyone else was just a fling, But they’d started out as first loves. Women that never gave him more than a few nights and left him broken-hearted when he got too attached too quickly. He’d been hurt a few too many times by the fact that they never stayed and spent the night.

He’d convinced himself that was just how it went. Don’t get too attached, don’t get too personal and cuddle because no one wants to be that close to someone they barely know. He told himself to be satisfied with the closeness he got through sex even if he was vaguely aware that wasn’t what he really needed or wanted.

And then one day he’d gotten up and realized that he was the one breaking their hearts- all because he didn’t want to get close to anyone anymore. Not in the way that meant being truly intimate. That was too much of a risk for his fragile heart.

True intimacy was the kind he’d had with you. You’d never needed to sleep together to cuddle him no- Jungkook just had to turn up at your door and you’d be ready to give him all of the physical contact he needs. Enough to stop feeling like he was about to jump out of his skin.

That was what the love language quiz had told you what your love language way- physical affection, a love that Jungkook was always eager to receive.

The shower is warm and exactly what he needs. He walks out of it smelling like you; his heart hurting in such a keen way- everything in your bathroom familiar and new. The times you’d let him shower here, once after getting caught out in the rain with you (a literal downpour, eventually you’d gotten too soaked and just settled for being goofy, sloshing in puddles in the park, spinning around underneath a lit lamp singing a bad rendition of singing in the rain, spilling your bottle of soju with little regard for who might think it propper.)

A whole day he’d spent kneeling on this tiled floor after one bad night, holding back your hair when you were puking. Jungkook berating himself for his choices because He’d taken you to a bad club in Gangnam, and you were worried someone had tried to slip something into your drink- no other reason why you’d be puking like this.

He’d apologized profusely, got you chocolate-covered strawberries as a thank you. Not knowing that you where allergic. “why the fuck did you eat them if this was going to happen” you were whiney, cheeks all puffy and red- lips a little swollen too. Gesturing for Jungkook to hand you the ice pack already, the itchiness getting to you.

“Cuz they looked really good and you were being sweet.” He slaps your hands away and holds the icepack to your cheek, moving it around every few seconds. Your eyes fluttering in relife. You’d spent the afternoon like that- Jungkook holding the icepack to your cheek watching a drama on your couch. it was the least he could do- after maybe inadvertently getting you drugged and giving you an allergic reaction.

And still- next week you’d responded to his texts. He’d been ready for you to leave him after that, but no- you still called him your friend.

While he takes a shower you put his clothes in the drier. Your heart humming because- he’s back. He’s actually come back. You never really expected him to stay away for so long- not more than a week at least. But then you’d heard the news of the tour and just assumed he couldn't. And you think through all the text messages you'd almost sent him asking for him to meet up for dinner or something but in the end. you’d been too worried that he would turn you down- that he really didn't care anymore.

Your hands feel something in the pocket of his pants. you still - pulling it out not really believing it- but it’s your key. The key you’d given him hoping he would stay in your life. and seeing it- knowing he’s kept it with him all this time. you grip the edge of the counter, trying not to cry.

When he gets out of your shower he finds an old set of his own pajamas there- probably left here at one point or another. He brings them up to his nose to inhale a deep breath, and they smell like you too. The simple joggers and black shirt- you must have worn them. Did you curl up in them on the nights that you missed him most? Did you even miss him? You’d never said it back at the door.

When Jungkook pads out into the living room, you’re sitting on the couch- head in your hands, a towel in yours, you jolt up when you see him. And your expression is unreadable as you gesture for him to sit in front of you. “I’m going to dry your hair”

The clearly communicated intent makes Jungkook’s whole body tingle, his touch starved ness already making a reappearance- always wanting more and more. He sits, tipping his head forward so you have access to all of his hair, his eyes on the couch, and your crossed legs. They aren’t as plush as they once looked. In the past year, you’ve lost a little weight and he wonders if that’s because of him.

His whole body shaking as you bring the towel up and through his hair, drying it this way and that. Eventually leaning his cheek against your clothed thigh, before he jolts up. Catching himself with an arm out behind you. He looks up, and your breath hitches when you see his arms, the way they’ve grown over the past year.

He knows he’s put on muscle since the last time you’ve seen him and it makes the tiniest bit of pride well up in his chest to know he’s impressed you. It only lasts for a moment before you keep drying his hair looking down at your hands a sour feeling rising up in both of you. Like you’re both suddenly realizing how much you’ve changed in the last year.

Your bodies might be strangers- but your souls aren’t. Even after all this time, not a single silence is awkward.

“Don’t want you to get a cold,” you say softly, and Jungkook only makes a small noise to let you know the message is received. He’s happy to be on the receiving end of your affection. After so long without any intimate contact, he needs it like he needs air. You continue in silence for a moment before Jungkook lists forward so hard that his head ends up pressed to your collarbone, his forehead warm against your skin. You don’t flinch back.

“Why are you being so kind to me? The last time I was here- I wasn’t- I never treated you well” his voice is broken and wavering. The darkness of the cloth concealing the fact that he’s crying again, but you can feel his tears against your skin anyway.

“I’ll always patch you up Kookie. And you did treat me well, maybe not the way I wanted to be treated- but you never treated me terribly.” That’s a little debatable, but Jungkook isn’t about to convince you not to forgive him for being an asshole.

“Will there ever be a way to go back?” it’s the one thing he’d been unable to stop himself from wondering- if there was a way to repair what you’d had. And he dreads the answer now almost more than not knowing. You bite your lip, folding your hands over your chest, leaving the towel hanging over Jungkook’s head like some kind of veil. Facing each other cross-legged on your old couch while the rain patters on outside.

“I never hated you Kookie- you’re still my best friend. Maybe we fight, and yeah it’s been a while. But at the end of the day, your soul still fits mine.”

He gulps audibly, hands reaching out to touch yours, you marvel for a second, eyes tracking over his new tattoos. He hadn’t had those the last time you’d seen them- you’d seen them on the Internet, of course, it was hard not to check up on him.

“Do you remember what you said to me in that cafe that day?” his voice is low, as thick as the color that bleeds onto the wet asphalt outside. While in here you’re in a bubble cozy and safe. Out of time and out of place.

Your eyes are heavy-lidded, as he gets more brazen with his touches, fingers rubbing up and down your forearms. You make noise in agreement. “Soulmates that met too early.” your eyelashes flutter against your cheek- it is late- and you look as tired as Jungkook should feel where it not for the caffeine in his system- but the shower did a good job of calming him down.

His words feel thick as he swallows, “what if that lifetime is now?” your eyes shoot open. And you’re about to say something when Jungkook jumps in. “I miss you. I miss you so bad that I think it breaks my heart sometimes.”

“Jungkook” it's just his name, but the way it sounds on your mouth- Jungkook would follow that call anywhere. He slumps forward, leaning his head against your shoulder, and you smell so good. He can’t help but turn his head to nuzzle into your neck; you don’t stop him- you don’t even flinch in fact.

You relax more- like you were waiting for him to lean into you. Hands coming up to encircle his shoulders and pull him in for a hug. “You missed me- but what do you want me to do?”

“Say you miss me too- say it's not too late. Say we have a chance.” your hands are gentle as they come up to run through his still-damp hair, “say it’s another lifetime and we can be soulmates again.”

“Are you going to stay?” you ask instead. You realize your miss-step, Jungkook sits up and you wish he didn’t so he wouldn’t see the blush on your cheeks. “stay the night I mean-” you swallow, “do you want to sleep here?”

“Yes” he flicks his hair out of his face, “if that’s okay?” both of you pretend that you mean only tonight. Even though you know- you both know what you meant.

His hair is drying curler and longer now. “You’re drunk Kookie- you should sleep. We can talk properly in the morning.”

Jungkook knows you’re probably just saying that because you want a little more time- but that’s okay. In the past year, he’s learned to be patient. And if you need the night to think it over- if you need the whole week or month. He’ll give it. “Okay,” he says, tilting his face up to look at you smiling.

“I’m not making any promises Jungkook- we have a lot to work through to get back to how we were”

“I know,” he says, but still can’t stop smiling, letting out a watery little giggle, and damn his cute doe eyes and his easy smile- because you can’t help but think he’s the cutest thing. This boy that looks hard on the outside but isn’t anything more than the squishiest romantic when you get to know him, who turned up at your door and told you everything you’d been hoping for the second he’d walked out your door.

“I can wait as long as you need to wait, I’ll be okay as long as we just talk again. I missed you so so much” he’s definitely drunk; maybe it just took a little while for the shots to hit him.

You get him a blanket and a pillow and he sleeps on the couch and he might let his lips brush along the outside of your when you reach down to run your fingers through his hair again but you don’t pull away. A look on your face like it pains you to leave him on the couch. But those little acts of love were never out of place back when you used to talk every day. And you can’t bring it to yourself to scold him for such a blatant act of intimacy when it makes your heart flutter.

There had been a few times near the end. when Jungkook had let himself in with your key and crawled into bed with you. And you’d always woken up before him, had breakfast and something planned for the day- someplace you wanted to explore and Jungkook ready to company you anywhere and everywhere.

He waits and watches the light underneath your door until it winks out and you go to sleep too. And he might wake in the middle of the night thinking bout crawling into bed with you but he knows enough to give you your space. His heart brimming with the possibility of more- more everything.

It’s worth it in the morning. Jungkook dreams about the love languages. Your words again ‘preparing food should be considered a love language.’ when he wakes in the morning the rain has stopped. Your porch doors open to your small back yard to let in the city sounds. The mist clearing over the rooftops, the smell of rain on the wet earth musky and sweet, quiet, and relaxing.

He smells eggs and French Toast, hears your soft humming in the kitchen. It’s Your love language to cook for those you love. And he knows somehow that you still love him when he hears the oil frying in the pan, the smell of cinnamon and sugar there too. everything sweet and nothing hurting.

A single tear drifts down his cheek. And he’s unable to stop smiling, even if he is half-asleep, unable to open his eyes even. He falls back asleep and wakes to the feeling of your fingers running through his hair.

There will be other times, when Jungkook can hop up from your bed and join you in the morning, back hugging you and peppering little kisses along your shoulder. Hands slipping under the edge of your shirt to squeeze at the ticklish spot on your hips. Or the small kisses he’ll press to your sleeping cheek when he has to leave early in the morning. Or the mornings when he’ll wake to you still in his arms kissing down his chest.

Countless mornings, days into the future when things will be easier. And even if they're not easy, Jungkook knows trying with you is worth it. Now that he’s lived without you- he will do anything to stay by your side. For Now, he’s happy to sleep off his hangover dimly aware of the sound of you moving around your house.

For a second, it almost feels like you’ve bent down, the warmth spilling across his face, the faint brush of your lips on his cheek. He tells himself it’s just a dream.

Jungkook is good at lying to himself.

Kofi

(if you want to find out your love language; here is a simple quiz to find out!)

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