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[smolvenger]

Could I Have The McOrgasm, Please? (Loki x fem! Reader Oneshot)

Summary: You love Loki, but he loves another. You must join Loki on his trip to get Sylvie back by going to the McDonald's she's working at. No matter how much it hurts you on the inside...

Warnings: SMUT AT THE END! NSFW! (Oral, fem receiving, inappropriate uses of Loki's shadow powers, dirty talk, p in v sex). Angst and unrequited (or is it?) love with eventual fluff. Being Anti-Slyki and Anti-Sylvie so if you like the character or pairing you have been warned. This is my indulgent coping method for not getting with a fictional character. Also, as this is published, I don't know what the eff is going to happen in season 2. I just want this out so I can escape to delulu land when canon disappoints me.

Word Count: >8K (phew)

Comments, reblogs, dms, and asks about my work are always appreciated!

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract (smut starts at the line "I want to have you, btw bestie) @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @muddyorbsblr

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

“Yes, she will be there,” Loki confirmed, looking at the restaurant.

You put your hands in your pockets. You were with Loki, Mobius, and a gentleman in a TVA jumpsuit at the McDonalds where Sylvie apparently worked. Just a hop, skip, and jump away. How much you took for granted-just traveling anywhere in space and time. Only, for this place and time was the one place you didn’t want to be. You wished you were anywhere else. A natural disaster, the poorest section of a medieval village, a gladiator tournament, a tuberculosis outbreak in London in the 1870’s-not this.

You didn’t want to watch as the man you loved went to pursue someone else. It was a peaceful place- just a McDonald's in the middle of a regular strip. The sun was gentle. Big clouds drifted in the sky. The birds were singing. You wanted to scream.

 You didn’t just like Loki as a friend. You loved Loki- him and only him. Loved him for a long time. Through the misadventures of life in the TVA, you helped him for long hours scouring over files. You ate lunch together. When the little capsules of pies arrived in the cafeteria for the lunch hour’s dessert options, you would pull out one for him and hand it with a smile. And when he cried over seeing what events were supposed to happen, you ran to embrace him.

Then one day he ran into the mysterious Loki variant- as it turned out her name was Sylvie. Just two days later he went missing with her. Then they reappeared. And then they vanished again. Then he reappeared and people were running in a panic. 

She left him. Kissed him, killed Kang, and then left him in the dust. But it didn’t occur to Loki that this was a betrayal he should be angry about. You remembered that day. He kept talking about her- until there was one phrase that hit you in the stomach.

“Please Y/N- I love her. Help me…help me find her and fix this!”

You would have preferred to be stabbed.

When he did say he loved her, you simply said “Oh, okay. I will.”

 You returned back to your room later that day. Forgetting the chaos and Mobius’s mysterious loss of memory. You sank onto the floor and cried. Cried so hard you couldn’t breathe. Cried so hard and curled up into a ball. Cried so hard you hardly slept for want of crying more.  

Even after what she did, he was still talking of her.  No. All he could talk of was Sylvie this and Slyvie that. Even with you. Why were you even doing this? 

“Uh…I don’t think I should be here…I think I should go back…” you murmured, taking a step back.

“You’re scared…of her? Y/N! You shouldn’t be! She’s incredible, you’ll love her! And you must- you’re the one who remembers what happened!” he insisted.

“What happened?” Mobius asked. The man in the jumpsuit only blinked.

“Y/N…please-I’m nervous…I need the support…” Loki begged at you. His mouth curled into a little frown and his eyes so big they shone like big stars.  You held in a breath. Those eyes. Damn, those eyes- like that of a kitten. You wanted to hug him and cuddle him- but you couldn’t. 

“Okay…” you voiced.

It was odd-not only being rejected, but being rejected for himself! How the hell would you explain that to a therapist?! The more you thought about it, the more it made you sick. The Spidermans in  New York apparently weren’t kissing each other, you heard. You shoved your arms to cross them and continued on. Perhaps if you walked quickly, you could get it over with. Holding your breath, you folded your arms and walked quickly in. Thinking of it like a vaccine- just a little pinch of pain for a brief bit, and then it would be over with. 

You stopped inside that bright, yellow building with its bright lights. There was a woman at the counter.

“Is that…” you asked.

Loki’s pale face turned a shade paler. “Yes.”

There you saw her. Not a glance- seeing her. Truly saw her up close. There were only glimpses when she ran around in the TVA. Here, her blonde hair was cut short beneath her cap and her eyes squinted in tired boredom. She smoothed her uniform. 

You noticed Loki see her. Frozen in his tracks, his mouth open.

“What are you waiting for?” you pressed. 

They kept looking at each other. With a shrug, she moved her eyes forward where a customer showed up to order a McFlurry. Loki blinked and turned to you.

“Does she recognize me?” he asked.

“Go ahead and find out. .” you replied.

“I…I feel like I can’t take another step…” Loki said, his chest falling in shallow breaths. 

Mobius waltzed up in front of you guys along with the variant man. 

“Well- I myself am starving hungry! Y/N-I bet you are too! Let’s order!” he churruped.

You followed them as Loki stayed a the door. Frozen in place. Mobius gestured to the counter. 

“Ladies first!” he chimed.

You stared at her as she finished the last order before you. Drinking in that now your invisible rival had a face. That “Sylvie” wasn’t a wisp of air, a pedestal you could never reach. But flesh and blood. That this was the woman Loki preferred. This was the woman who was Loki. Pale skin and short blonde hair. It seemed damp under her cap. Slender with a long, straight nose and pink lips. Sharp eyes like that of a falcon. Slight grace and ease with how she moved. And you knew from the hundreds of times how Loki boasted of how stupid Sylvie won some stupid fight with a stupid enemy in a stupidly easy manner. 

So many words were in there. You knew what she did. How miserable she really made him. After everything he did for her. And no matter if she felt the same or not, her actions did not account for it. What she did to him. The pure misery and despair on your beloved Loki’s face when she left him. The suffering she put him through even if he wasn’t aware of it. 

And envy. Yes, you were sick with envy. You hated yourself. You hated yourself because you weren’t her. And yet you hated her too. Only hate was swirling in her stomach. Your mouth stopped, for want of the thousands of things you could have said. The thousands of things you fantasized about saying, or doing. You took in a shaky breath, maybe to start one of them. To finally let it out. To scream at her. Yell in her face. They were there- words forming at you like grey clouds forming a thunderstorm. 

She beat you to it.

“Hello, welcome to McDonalds,” she said with a practiced smile. 

 She did not recognize you. She only gave you a nod and replied dutifully, like she repeated it 1,000 times every day.

“What would you like?” she asked, continuing on like she was an actor saying her lines.

To rip out all of your hair and scalp you until you’re screaming and bloody. You thought bitterly. But you did not say that.

“Could I have the-uh, Quarter pounder and small fries and a fountain drink, please?” you requested. 

She nodded with a small smile and tapped into the cash register. 

“My pleasure, coming up…” she said.

When you paid, she handed you the receipt. Then all you had to do was wait until the giant screen announced your order was ready. You felt dizzy as Mobius and the new guy ordered their food. 

Simple as that. Your motivation failed you. She didn’t know you. If you said or did anything, she would flee and get her manager. You would be known as “that” customer who made food service worker’s lives miserable. A story to be gasped or laughed about. And never showing you sympathetically. Or knowing the stories Loki would boast about her-whip out her own daggers and slice you into ribbons. 

You took a step back. Unable to peel her eyes off of her. Imagine her as he would describe- not in a uniform but in tight leather showing a perfect and beautiful slim body. A fighter who could defeat anyone in combat without blinking an eye and who could bring down the whole TVA. 

Could you do that? No- you weren’t some fierce, flawless, warrior goddess. No- you were afraid. Vulnerable. That was your curse-she was extraordinary. You were just ordinary.

You began to mentally list your personal insecurities. How could you even compare to her? No wonder Loki worshipped the ground she walked on after she used him as a punching bag. The screen announced your food and another worker handed you a tray with the burger, fries, and cup. That was a clear sign from the universe itself- might as well drown yourself in comfort food. 

You noticed Loki finally moved from his place. You couldn’t even watch- not even to get your drink. You grabbed your tray of food and fled to a far corner near the bathrooms. Where you couldn’t hear them, couldn’t see them. You wanted to huddle and hide and make yourself invisible.

Then you heard footsteps- rapidly walking around. You looked up to see who it was. It wasn’t Mobius. It wasn’t even the variant in the tracksuit- You could recognize that peachy ass in those brown office khakis anywhere. 

He turned his black curls everywhere as he turned his head to search. Loki went up to you, and then his shoulders relaxed. He even bent a little to meet eyes where you were sitting. 

“Y/N, all the way here?” he asked.

You were such a sucker for that face, especially how soft, how sweet he could look. How could you say no to his presence now? 

“Uh…yeah,” was all you could say. 

As he took a step forward to where you sat, he leaned down, his hands still in his jacket pockets. 

“Where were you- I got worried. Maybe someone had attacked you, or took you,” he fretted.

“I’m fine,” you lied as you took a bite of the burger. “Just wanted to sit here-more private.”

He then pulled up to the chair and sat across from you. 

“How’s the wedding planning?” you wanted to ask bitterly. You did not. You looked down at your food, then up at him. He sat so casually, so easily. He folded one leg over another and set an arm down. You pulled out your bag of fries. It was so piping hot it hurt a little- but that was how you liked it.

“I’m nervous too, Y/N. I have to tell you…I cried this morning…I know I have to face her. I’ve taken over cities, I’ve battled monsters, but this…this is different…” Loki confessed.

You chewed on a fry instead of replying. Tasting the crispy hot potato flavor. He let out a deep exhale, putting a hand lightly over his mouth. 

“What’s wrong with me, Y/N?” he asked.

You wiped the salt onto your pants. The words flowed out of you easily. Too easily. 

“Nothing is wrong with you, Loki! You’re the nicest, sweetest, bravest, sexiest being in the whole-”

“What was that last one?” he asked, tilting his head, his blue eyes squinting. 

You immediately froze, the fry you were about to eat hung in mid-air. You felt hot with embarrassment. 

“You’re the nicest, smartest being in the whole universe!” you said.

Before he could say anything else, you began digging further into those hot fries. “Mmph, These are so good. And just right-right when they’re out of the fryer.” You chatted on, desperate to change the subject after your little Freudian slip.

“Can I…try one?” he asked.

He held out his hand and you pressed a few fries into it. He chewed on them and then smiled as he tasted them.

“Not bad! Midgard food isn’t as pitiful as I thought!” he replied.

Mobius returned with his tray along with his companion. They ate and Mobius commented on how the Sweet and Sour sauce was his favorite. Loki looked at him, his smile dropping. Then he turned to you, his voice low. Mobius kept on chatting about everything to the variant. 

“He still doesn’t remember…It seems all who care about me just…either die or leave or hurt me…” he mourned.

“I don’t…and think of Thor. Yes, you two fight. But he loves you. And remember your own mother! They care about you. They always will…and so will I…” you assured him.

Your hand moved up to touch his, then froze and retreated. Then he turned to you.

“Y/N?”

“Mhhm?” you asked, a mouth full of food. 

“...You have salt on your chin…” he commented.

He reached out his hand to cup it. Your breath stopped at his touch- so gentle, so soft. His large thumb grazed over your chin slowly. Your mouth opened a little, feeling his light brush as his thumb swiped the bits of salt away. How small it seemed under his large hands. But he wasn’t hurting you in the slightest- it felt like a caress. A light kiss. Once his thumb went back to his hand, his eyes went to yours. Seeing his blueness, his large, dark pupils. As if something unspoken was exchanged between you. You saw him swallow hard. 

Taking in a deep breath after that, you retreated, putting your hands on your lap and looking down. The heaviness of sudden arousal from his touch had shocked your system. You reached for your drink to cool off but realized it was empty. You had eaten all of your meal. There wasn’t food you could use to hide now. You forced yourself to take deep breaths- in, two three four, out two three four. 

“There that’s…that’s better,” Loki said. 

“Thank you- it won’t be easy, but….one day, you won’t be sad about what happened. You won’t feel nervous or scared…you’ll get over it Loki, bit by bit,” you encouraged softly. 

He leaned forward in his chair, his hands folding on the table.

“Ah, tell me, my dear Y/N- Have you ever had your heart broken?”

The burger in your throat dried up. You took your napkin and bunched it into a ball in your hand. 

“Yes,” you answered plainly. Fighting back the urge to laugh.

“I never did! Never! None of that drama! I’ve never been more relieved!” Mobius sang out as he chewed on a nugget. His companion only kept tearing at his burger.

“Is it terrible?” Loki asked. His brows knotted in curiosity.

“Very. Still is,” you replied.

“How did you cope with it? You little mortals-going about your own lives and your own heartbreaks?” he asked generally.

You shoved aside the tray and folded your arms. Then you began to speak.

“Realizing that love shouldn’t be a prison.”

“A prison?” Loki repeated. He leaned forward. Staring right at you. Truly listening to you. You continued, though you felt your body tense up. Knowing what you said was honest- too honest. 

“I was…not with him in any way. He wasn’t my boyfriend or lover or hookup or whatever. This guy- I thought… he should be with whoever makes him happy….”

Even with someone who betrayed him, manipulated his feelings, and left him crying. 

“Love means letting go. It’s the right thing to do- it’s still hard though,” you finished. 

Loki registered nothing beneath the surface of that. He merely shrugged and raised his eyebrows. He looked at you, giving you a small smile. 

“I’m glad you’re alright and happy now, Y/N. I remembered the time you were about to fall off the TVA balcony right over those statues last month…”

“And you caught me-you saved my life!”

“To think…me…a hero for once…” he commented.

“That’s a Loki for you! A pure miracle for your kind!” Mobius commented. 

He took a long sip of his Sprite. 

 “Wow! Now this is a drink!” he exclaimed, inside the cup for the bubbly carbonation. 

“Well, Mobius, this isn’t fiction. No one is all good or all bad. And Loki, no one entirely bad does that…everyone’s a mix of good and bad,” you added on. 

“What’s your bad parts, Y/N? Any weaknesses” Loki asked curiously.

“I…get jealous…” you confessed. 

The god’s jaw lowered to the ground. His voice dared to raise a little bit from his surprise. 

“Jealous!? But…you’re…you’re so kind! I’m the jealous one!” he said. 

You continued on. The words poured out of you more quickly than you could register or control them. 

“It doesn’t mean I never feel jealous. Or am tempted to do things like take her face and smash it over the McDonad’s register.”

“What?!?!”

You stopped. A hand flew over your mouth to cover it. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, what the fuck was I thinking?!?! you cursed silently. Another slip. And this time, he heard it clearly. No hiding around it.

“Whose face are you talking about?” Loki asked further.

“I…Forget that…I didn’t say anything! Good luck with your meet-cute and reunion and all that. Have fun- bye!” you dismissed quickly. 

You grabbed your tray. 

“Y/N…wait…” he said.

“Where is she going?” Mobius asked, tilting his head. He then remembered he had more sweet and sour sauce with his McNuggets and began dipping into them with a childish glee.

He reached out and grabbed your arm. You pulled against him and he held you back.

“What’s going on!?” the god asked. 

“Don’t touch me- save it for her!” you hissed out. Yanking away from him- not even looking at his face. 

You looked right at the door and walked hurriedly. Momentum, panic, pulling you out of there. You kept your eyes on the exit as you dumped your trash into the bin. You walked to the outside of the McDonalds. It was sunny with the sun’s orange glow and a little chilly. You got the tempad from your pocket to return. But then you heard  Loki jog behind you. You kept walking down the pavement. Glad that there weren’t moving cars right now. If not, you wished a moving one would hit him and send him flying. But it didn’t. 

“Y/N, stop!” he insisted.

You stopped walking. But you turned around. You didn’t look at him- only at the rows of cars and empty parking spots in the strip. But you heard him behind you. 

“I’ve stopped. Now what?” you asked. At least you could hide behind sass and snark. It made the pain better. 

“Whose face were you talking about?” he asked. 

“I’ve got to go, Loki,” you urged.

“Y/N, wait!” he cried. 

You felt him grab you. He turned you around, his arms gripping you into place. His eyes were intense and his jaw lowered. He still looked so handsome- like a dream. His intensity, the feel of his bare hands on you making it more intense, making him more attractive. You were forced to face him. Your eyes were brimming with more tears. He almost shook you as he held you- so strong. His skin, his scent. Like he wouldn’t let go of that for the world. If only you could experience that for yourself. 

“Y/N….are you…jealous of Sylvie?” he asked.

“Yes. I’m sorry I said something about hurting her. I know it was wrong to-but yes. I’m jealous of her. Have been for a while. Isn’t it obvious?” you asked.

“Why?!”

You burst into tears. Your jaw tightened.

“I need to go, Loki…just let go, please,” you begged. 

As you moved he held his grip on you.

“No! You’re not going anywhere until you tell me why!” he demanded. 

You thought confessions like this should be done in moonlit gardens or sexy hotel suites or something. Not the parking lot of a fucking Mcdonald's. But here you were.

“Why? Because I love you, Loki. More than as my friend-much more.”

“You…love me?” he asked. His eyes were wide. His jaw dropped and then it closed back, his pink lips barely parted. 

Your words sputtered out. His grip relaxed on your arms. You had no choice but to look him in the eye and talk. 

“ I’ve always loved you…I’ve loved you every afternoon, on weekdays, on coffee breaks. I’ve admired and taken note of every one of your feats. I stayed by when you were sitting at the TVA crying when she opened the multiverse and left you. But…the thing with love…is that it means letting go…”

How handsome he looked. His jacket-how warm would it feel? Would it smell like him? And the shirt that hugged his body. You glanced down and felt twinges of lust mixed with your sadness. With a man as delectable as he, you couldn’t help it. How broad yet lean and strong he was. How his bare skin would feel against your bare skin. How many times have you fantasized nightly about having him in your bed? But there was only one being in these universes and timelines who would know. And it wasn’t you.

“What…Y/N…really…all this time…” Loki murmured. 

. You felt anger in your throat and venom in your voice. 

“If you think the best relationship you need is with a woman who is literally you with a vagina who you knew for three days and then left you in the dust for her own gain, then take it! Because…beacuase…”

You began to step away. Ready for him to be angry at your words about her. His eyebrows lowered and there was no anger- only his parted lips of shock. You began Crying again. You thought you saw him tear up too. 

“Because that’s what you want, what you choose…and I have to let you go…”

You turned on your heels and promptly left. Wiping your tears on your sleeve. Using the tempad, you returned to your home. You ran inside, fell on your bed, and sobbed.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When Monday began, you were ready to work. You got in your nicer dress and cardigan for the day. The TVA office could get chilly. Right when you walked in, there was Loki. In his own work wear. You froze. What on earth were you going to say? What could you say?

“I was worried about you. How are you, Y/N? Feeling better?” he asked, putting his hands back in his pockets.

“You know…yes….yes I am…” you nodded.

He gave you a kind smile.  You waited for him to bring up what happened, what you said. He did not.

“How did…McDonalds go?” you asked.

“For your information, it went alright,” he informed you.

You felt a giant lump in your throat. You pulled your cardigan further over you-looking down on the floor as you spoke. 

“The reunion- did she-”

“She just wanted to focus on her job,” Loki answered before you could finish your statement.  He went up closer to you. “I hope your day at work goes well, my dear…if any supervisor gives you trouble, they’ll answer to me…wait- there’s a hair on your shirt,” he said.

He gently brushed it away on your shoulder.

“There you go- you look…you look nice today. The colors suit you,” he said.

“Oh, thank you.”

It was a normal, boring day. And the next day was a normal boring day- that was comforting. 

When you went into the cafeteria, you decided to buy lunch. After all, it was going to be the best meal they offered at the TVA- grilled ham and cheese with tomato soup-nice and warm. You counted your coins from your pocket to make up the total. It was cheap-but still eating at it every day could take a toll if you weren’t careful.

As you walked up with your change, the cafeteria lady shook her head in her hair net.

“Oh no- it’s on the house!” she said.

She gave you a smile as she brought a tray ready. Your own surprised face gleaming from the glass over the food.

“Really?!” you gasped incredulously. 

“Yes-your lunches are free from now on!” announced the cafeteria lady. 

“Oh…thank you!” you cried.

Smiling, she handed you a grilled ham and cheese and poured tomato soup into a bowl before handing it to you. They tasted especially warm and decadent. 

Loki appeared here and there. But he would ask after you. Talk to you. He never mentioned the warrior goddess version of himself to you. Not anymore, at least. But he didn’t bring up what he said. 

 As you got to your office desk on the fifth day, he was standing there- waiting for you. Your coworkers were watching with one eye from where they sat and worked. Some even stood up to see. 

“Hello, Y/N!” he greeted. 

 He walked forward and you gasped aloud when he turned. In his white hands was a glass vase full of fresh, beautiful flowers- your favorite kind. Bright and beautiful with a fragrance that sweetened the area that used to be full of the smell of crisp paper and old coffee. 

“I…I thought you might like this,” he offered, handing you the vase.

“I…I, uh…uh-thank you,” you said.

Why was he suddenly being nice? It then hit you- he still valued your friendship. Even if he didn’t feel the same, he didn’t want to let you go yet. Probably making peace. But you were in public, this wasn’t the time or place to discuss matters of the heart openly. But…that was better than a full friendship breakup. Of never seeing that mischievous, handsome god ever again.

You smelled the flowers and set them on your desk. He leaned against it, something glinting in his eyes. Something that made you feel fluttery and distracted you from the start of the day.  

“How’s the…Kang mission going?” you asked.

“Oh, it’s alright. If not well. A few bumps here and there- but things will probably be fine.  You have nothing to fear…but what about you? How is work?” he asked.

“It’s been downright slow the past few days. Then today it’s picked up, but…nothing I can’t handle.” you reported.

He leaned a little closer, the old trickster light beaming in his eyes. 

“Anyone being difficult? He asked. 

You couldn’t help but smile. 

“Some were in the past, but…but no.”

“Then…I hope you have a good day, Y/N. I will talk to you later. Don’t let them work you too hard, darling,” he said. 

He gave you a wink that sent butterflies into your stomach and then walked away.

How nice he was. Taking it so well. You always knew there was a little good in him. Even if all that was for someone who didn’t deserve him…

After work, you splurged on cheesecake and a bottle of wine.  You were going to need it.

After you got back home, you brought in your goods. You listened to sad music and cried to flush more of it out of your system.  Grieving Sylvie and Loki being a couple. Imagining them kissing and doing more than kissing by now a hundred times. You took a hot shower to cleanse every picture of it from yourself.  You changed into your pajama shirt and shorts. You sat on your chair in your room, ready to eat a generous helping of cheesecake and a generous glass of wine. 

You were going to go somewhere far from the TVA. You had to. Get a new job somewhere. Meet as many men as possible. Try other forms of dating. Or not just dating– just meet anyone. Forget him. Forget Loki. Forget his dark curls and blue eyes and sinful waist in those tight shirts and mischievous smile. Move on from him, move on from being rejected. Even if he was nice to you and wanted to still be friends. You were going to forget it all. Sacred timeline be damned. Your happiness and peace of mind was shattered.

Then it hit you…it was odd that out of nowhere you had free lunches at work. Why was that?

An answer hit you.

Could it…could it be…it was… No. It was bribery. Yes! All bribery because he needed help with some villain who lived in a mansion with purple robes and a flair for the dramatics. All being beside his perfect, flawless girlfriend. Having their love rubbed in your face. You wanted to spit. 

Right as you were about to take your first bite of cheesecake, There was a loud knock. 

“Y/N…please let me in…I have to talk with you,” a voice you knew too well asked from the door.

You gripped the seat of your chair.

“Loki?! Is that you?” you asked from where you sat. 

“Who else, darling?”

“Just use your magic and break into my place!” you replied.

“I’d rather enter with your permission…” he said. 

Not caring that you were in your sleepwear, you opened the door. Still in his jacket and TVA office wear, he stepped inside. Your hands curled into fists. He was beautiful as ever-jacket and cheekbones and all. You could have screamed at him. You could have punched him. You could have slammed the door in his face. 

But…you didn’t. You couldn’t.  You crossed your arms and took a step back, but you looked at him. 

“Loki…what are you doing here? What else can I say to you? Thanks for your gifts. I know you need help with Kang but…I can’t…I can’t do it…and you have someone waiting for you. Go to her. Go to who you love.” 

“But….I am with who I love…” he replied. 

A stone dropped into your stomach. Your whole body tightened. Your breath stopped and your throat ran dry.

He stepped inside. Then he cupped your face with both hands. 

“Y/N…I’ve been so blind…” he confessed.

Before another word was said, he kissed you on the lips. Deeply, sweetly. You smelled him- smelled popcorn and musk. Yet he tasted of cream on your lips, of froth. Like a dessert after dinner and twice as sweet. He held you so that your lips could stay together. Then he released, still holding your face. 

“Loki…what is this? What’s going on? Is this another…another of your tricks, then…” you asked, your voice only half of its strength. 

He kept you close. Looking right at you. His voice was so dulcet, so earnest. 

“It’s not. Y/N…I never realized how much you cared for me. How much you really did…and to think…I thought I was alone. But I wasn’t.  No one saw me…but you…and to think…all this time I was chasing after someone. A shadow. A dream. An illusion better than any I could conjure. An idea of her. Not realizing…that love, that sweetness I have wanted my whole life…was right in front of me…” he said softly.

“You finally came to your senses!” you cried.

Both of you let out a small laugh at that. 

“But…she’s with you to fight Kang- and you’re back together?” you asked.

“She doesn’t remember me. And she… wanted nothing to do with me. It struck me what she did…how she treated me. And then I thought of how you treated me…I kept thinking of you, thinking of you. I missed you. I looked for you. I…I didn’t want to cross paths with her…I realized…there was someone always there for me…yes-you…Oh, Y/N, I’ve been a fool,” he breathed. 

He held you and kissed you again and you almost gasped into it. Feeling him. You grabbed onto his jacket. Held him close-felt how close he was. His eyelashes. His tall cheekbones graze against your face. It made you shiver. He let go of the kiss, pressing his forehead onto yours.. Both of you closed your eyes and could hear his breathing fluttering.

“Y/N, my dear…can you forgive me?” he asked. 

“I can. Can you forgive me?” you asked. 

“I already have.”

He let go. He still kept his eyes on you as he reached his hand to the door and pushed it close. The momentum made it shut. His long finger made a swipe-out of it came a bit of green seidr. And you heard a click! The door locked in place.

“I wanted someone who loved me…who would take care of me…and it was you the whole time….it was you, Y/N…I…I don’t…” he muttered. 

He paused. Then he put his hands on his hips and looked down. He licked his lips and his eyes scattered, a blush on his cheeks. 

“I don’t…even know what to say now…how to put it…uh, Y/N…I…I, uh-”

“I love you too, Loki…and…I’m glad you’re okay now,” you breathed.

You were on him to kiss him again. He pulled you close. He moved a little tongue in. Your breath hitched from feeling him there. His hands on your back-keeping you pressed against him. Never wanting to let go. 

“Y/N…don’t let this end here. Let me stay…let me stay for tonight…” he whispered.

“You can stay,” you said with a nod. 

You felt his fingers dig into your skin. To leave his fingerprints on you. 

 He then moved on to kiss your neck. It tickled you a little. But he found a sensitive spot- a spot rarely kissed. He pressed his lips to it as he held you close. Then he used a bit of teeth. It elicited a groan from you. You felt him tense up as it escaped your lips. He sucked the area.

“Here…now you’ll never doubt that you are mine…and I am yours…”

 He made another bite, another mark. Arousal squirmed inside you, releasing out to your panties with his touch, his lips on your skin. He kissed you again and you melted into it. The friction between you was building up. He squared his hips to meet your own and you stifled a gasp. His hands wander down your body-exploring each curve and shape, hidden only by the thin cotton of your sleepwear. Feeling you like a discovery of forgotten land. Finding each nook and curve of your shape inside your clothes. But you did not move an inch away-but kept him there. You ran a hand up to feel his back-always so warm. Masculine even. 

“Loki…darling…” you moaned out as he kissed each bit of the sensitive skin between your neck and shoulder. His hands wrapped to be around your back.

He kissed you again. You reached your hand to rake through his dark curls- they had been washed and were so fresh and clean and soft-softer than the petals of the flowers on your desk. 

 You could feel something getting hard from his office pants. It brushed against the crotch of your own clothes and made you quench beneath.

“Y/N…my pet…I want…I want to have you…to have you now…will you let me?” he asked.

“Yes…yes, I do…I want you…” you agreed.

“Then… let's make up for lost time…” he growled.

He kept kissing you as he put his hands around your waist, grabbing you and taking you right to your bedroom. His hands moving back up to cup your face, to keep kissing you so close. He released and looked down at your clothes. He then touched your collar, seeing where it dipped, and showed a bit of your chest. He smiled as his hands went down, feeling the material. 

“If I knew this had any chance of happening, I would’ve worn something else…” you confessed.

“Does that really matter when the best part will always be beneath it?” he asked. 

With a flash of seidr from his fingers, the pajamas vanished and you were naked before him. You gasped at the cold. You fought the urge to cover yourself. It wasn’t that this was your first- but to show your body before Loki was a different matter. You have never wanted someone so bad, and you never felt more…vulnerable. Your arms flinched to cover your breasts then he caught you. 

“Ah-ah, Don’t hide your beauty from me, not anymore…” he said with a playful tone. 

He moved your arms aside to see you. He cupped one breast in his large, beautiful hand- thumb grazing the nipple, making you shiver. 

“Yes…that is the best part…” he said.

He kissed you again, his hand wandering down- feeling your bare back. Even grazing your bottom, then going up to your hips, your curves. He was feeling you- treasuring each inch of you. He kissed you again as you connected your hips to his. Electricity shooting through you. You let out a shuddering groan. He gave you another smile- it was so lustful, so devilisih, so him.  

“There’s something else I can do, my Y/N…would you like to try it?” he boasted quietly.

“Yes…show me what it is…”

“I can hold you back…tie you without any silk, any rope, any chains, any restraint…” he whispered. 

“How?” you pressed. 

There was a light flashing in his eyes-so light, so different. From the dim lights of your room out came shadows like his- with his horned helmets on them. The shadows lurched over and you almost gasped. Then they went down to the floor. 

“They can touch you- do you want to know what they feel like?” he asked.

“Yes…”

The shadows reached out their arms, traveling up. They felt like mist when they grazed your skin. But then one pulled up your first arm high- and it was strong. You couldn’t break out of it, no matter how you tugged. Then the other lifted your other arm up high. The light was still in Loki’s eyes, the shadows lifted you up before him. A prize free for his taking. He grinned as they wandered on how your position made your breasts dangle before him.

“Now…where were we…ah, yes…” he said.

The shadows were strong but gentle as they moved you over. You were floating-then they laid you on the bed. Your arms were lifted to remain high over your head as your back went over the duvet. Your arms were held over your head, laying over the pillow. 

“I…I like this power…”

He smirked, his hands still in his pockets.

“As do I…and I am bout to like them even more…”

More shadows appeared- they flicked across your legs.

“What pleasure is hidden between here- they can help show me, perhaps…”

They curled to your ankles and then gently opened your legs before him.-showing your dripping pussy before the god. He played cool. Only his quick breaths and the bulge in his pants hinted at his craving, his desire. Your breasts out and your legs opened- nothing hidden. Now the shadows had you out and open-something for him to devour, something out to be fucked.

He walked forward. He brought out a long finger. He touched your folds gently, sliding them down. You let out a gasp. 

“L-Loki…” you breathed out. It was so sinful, so filthy you couldn’t help but love it. 

“Why…this is quite the picture. If I could only paint it…but I only want this masterpiece for myself, and no one else.” he rasped. 

He walked over to the bed. Then he crawled so he was between your legs. The shadows keeping your legs open. His hand grazed over your inner thigh. 

“Here…you’ve been a good little angel Taking care of me. Shhhh-shhh- you don’t need to object, to think of my pleasure for now. You’ve worked so hard…now relax…let your god take care of you this time, darling.”

You were gasping and whimpering. He began to taste you- his tongue inside. He groaned as his tongue went further into your folds. His cold breath against your private wetness made public for him. Your arms flinched but the shadows held you tight. He flicked his tongue and you let out a small groan.

“L-L-Loki…yes…I-oh, oh god-yes…” you sputtered out.

His shadows lifted your hips so he could taste further. His tongue delved. It found your clit and you shuddered from it. He gave a few licks. He went up closer to where your clitoris was swollen and waiting for him. Then he stopped. 

“Now this…this tastes better than any of those Midgardian meal down there…This one is sweeter, with much more juices…and this one I can devour at no cost at all…”

You were whimpering-letting him lick your clit. Letting his tongue go through- each bit of you.  Explore you. Your own cries filled you up. But the shadows kept you wide open. 

“L-Loki…that…that feels so-so good…”

With a small gasp, you felt pleasure spiral in you. He licked a bit further-and soon it broke on you. Like the wings of a bird when it catches the wind and lifts up. The pleasure burst and you let out a gasp from your petit mort. 

Your heart was racing, and your blood coursing through you. Loki was smiling- his lips wet with your juices. And still fully clothed. 

“I hope they don’t replace me-I’ve yet to get my hands on you again, my pet.” 

He crawled on top of you. He kissed you so his tongue got into yours-another hole for him to claim. You could taste your own earthy scent and thick juices. Still restrained, he held you, grinding lightly onto you. Your hips lifted a little to meet his- no shadows needed. But you felt their cool touch curling around you. Touching all over you- he wanted to touch you, feel you, know you, devour you in every way. 

“Please…I want more…I want you…I want you inside of me, Loki…” you begged.

He smirked, a curl coming loose on his face. 

“Oh…my tongue was only to prepare you, my dear…I hope you are ready…”

“Yes…yes-please..I want you to fuck me, fuck me until I forget everything else…forget Kang, the TVA, timelines, all of it! I don’t care if it’s by your shadow’s cock or yours- I need you! All of you!” 

“You need only ask, my dove,” he purred.

The green seidr flashed with a tilt of his head, then down it went. It melted his clothes off.  He became naked. You underestimated how fit his body was. You forgot your words at this sight of his nakedness. How strong, muscled, and broad he was despite his leanness. His masculine hairs across his chest-his large, strong biceps. Abdominals and a very happy trail leading to his erect largeness. The shadows curled their grip around you. They pulled your legs to open wider. 

“I hope you’re ready for the love of a god,” he murmured. 

  He embraced you, kissing you as he began to sink in. Bit by slow bit. He got himself in, groaning. You let out a cry when all of him was inside. He was so big, you had to adjust. Your arms flinched again but they remained held back. His arms reached around you-keeping you close. He then held you- his own hands digging into your hips and thrusting into you. 

“Oh-oh, god!” you whimpered

“That’s- that’s what I like to- to hear-shall you try it again? Yes- yes-urgh- so-so tight, my love-yes-” he growled. 

He began to slowly thrust into you. He groaned into it- slow, but steady. Intruding your insides. He rolled with you, a gentle rolling of his body. Kissing you deeply. Then he kept at it. Your voice escaped you. His cock disappeared and reemerged. But he looked at your face, in your eyes as he fucked you into your bed. 

With a flick of his head, the shadows moved your legs so that your knees bent and you were angled deeper.

“Fuck! Oh-oh dear-Loki I-I-I can’t-shit-can’t believe this-this is-fuck- happening--happening right now-it’s-it’s-its-fuck!- too good to be true-” you breathed.

“Oh, it’s-it’s true darling…”

He thrust carefully, slowly. Then he picked up. His voice was like that of a hiss, right into your ear.

“And you’re-” Thrust. “-Mine.” Thrust.

He kept kissing you as he thrust, thrust, thrust. His shadows testing you, splaying you a little more open. Hearing each other's groans. Moaning your name, repeating it like a prayer of his own. A prayer only a god could give.  His own grunts were deep and guttural. He found the right pace. Painting with each thrust, thrust, thrust.

“Yes…yes, you’re-you’re mine and-yes-I will…I will be yours-we are at each other’s mercy…now…yes-”

His pace increased. His shadows holding you back bed hitting itself against the wall. Then the shadows moved so your legs flew right up by him. It was so wild, so fast. Then his long finger curled to your entrance. Finding the clit. Rubbing so hard- so much. Slam, slam, slam, slam. You gasped- it was the right, perfect place. You were going up, up in your pleasure. His finger tested your clit faster, harder with his thrusts. You felt his voice, his groans rising in pitch. And that bubbling, spinning feeling was going inside you, your toes clenching as your legs were up in the air. 

“Oh…oh gods…Loki…I’m going to cum again-I-I am…”

He held you close- this time his own flesh-his thrusts wilder, desperate. He was breathless, with every gasp, every taking in of pleasure, he urged you. His voice husky and to the point of breaking. 

“Yes-yes-go-there-I…I can’t—cum, darling, cum with me-your heat, your wetness-it’s going to-going to overwhelm me-I…I can’t I-yes-yes-cry out-cry out my name, darling…I-I-I-”

His thrusts were so wild, pounding you right into the bed. Nailing you there, completely taking you over. That sweet spot- thrust, thrust, thrust, thrust, thrust-when it hit like lightning that you let out what started as his name, and then you hit it, it became a shout. 

“L-Ah!”

It reverberated throughout your home. Whoever was next door or nearby would definitely hear it. With a strangled cry of his own, he arrived as well. 

His shadows retreated. He still wrapped his arms around you, nuzzling into you. His arms wrapping around you. He felt so warm- you could smell his sweat, feel how he had to catch his breath. Your heart was still reeling after that bout of pleasure. He hugged you close.

“Holy shit…” you breathed out.

He let out a small smile and you both laughed.

“To think I could’ve been enjoying…that all this time, my dear…” he said, he kissed you on the forehead. “And now…I hope you don’t mind that again….”

“Can it be every day?” you asked.

“Of course!” he laughed.

He sighed as you settled into each other.

“What are we going to tell Mobius…the TVA?” you wondered.

“We’ll think of something…” he said.

You sat up, wrapping the blanket around you. With a bit of magic, he conjured a large shirt over you-soft and comfortable. 

“I was going to get some wine and Cheesecake- would you like any?” you asked.

“Both Sounds lovely to me…but Y/N…I am genuinely sorry, I really am.” he said, his eyes wide and sweet. 

“And I genuinely forgive you…emotions make people do things-”

He grinned.

“Such as this,”

He pulled you to his lap. You hugged and kissed his cheek. Yes, you would figure out life as a couple in the TVA together. Life with some new villain back and on the rise. But for now…you had to just enjoy each other. This new, blossoming, new love. Yes- how good that word felt rumbling in your mind. It echoed as he joined you to get plates and glasses.

You both smiled as you had your first sips and ate your first bites. He thanked you with a kiss- tasting sweeter than any food, dessert or dinner- could ever taste to you.

[here2bbtstrash]

real magic (explicit)

genre: smut, fluff, bangin’ your boss, m attempts kidfic - part of a hyung holiday collab !

pairing: namjoon x reader

summary: the holiday season has never meant anything to you beyond suffering long hours for minimum wage and awaiting the collapse of capitalism— but this year, you’d be willing to add making out with your dilf coffee shop boss to the list.

word count: 16.7k 😩

contains: ~*~explicit sexual content (after kind of a slow burn sorry lol)~*~ the "moving back to your hometown" hallmark trope, a nick jonas poster (yes that's a warning), some taekook slander in the beginning because i thought it was funny, namjoon is so buff and so dumb but so wise and so hot, moni is a little shit, namjoon is a dad!, namjoon's kid uses they/them pronouns but it's not like A Focus of the story it's just flavor, reader thinks joon has a dead wife for like one second 💀 mentions of teenage pregnancy and co-parenting, one incredibly stupid asshole customer lmao, mint choco slander (it's what namjoon would want 😌), obviously there is an employee/boss power dynamic but they talk about it and figure it out because this is namjoon and he overthinks everything, namjoon driving (he's a dad i have to assume he would get his license if he had a literal child!!!!!!!!) and a lotta sentimental holiday and life talk. here are ur sex specific warnings: making out/going to second base in a car in a parking lot (what is it with my namjoons and cars in parking lots yo), fingering, semi-drunk sex, and fuckin' rawwwww with a smidge of size and breeding kink lmao (but she's on the pill!!! no more kids!!!!!!)

A/N: hello hello hi merry crisis this damn fic is finally here lmao~ as i have been babbling on about for days i really really (REALLY) love how this namjoon turned out he's just hesjkrgdhtgk such a fucking himbo but a good dad and wise and did i mention hot aaaaaa 🫠 all the love in my gay little heart to @goodsoop for their barista wisdom and real life experiences that went into this one (the cookie story will never not make me laugh) ! and to @sailoryooons for beta reading this 50 million times and encouraging me when i was convinced it sucked ass, and also for making all the gorgeous banners for this collab 😭

which btw - be sure to go check out @gimmethatagustd & @sailoryooons & @nabiolive 's fics tooooo !!! i've loved collabing with them so very much even when we were all hashtag Going Through It, we got the whole damn hyung line you hear meeeeee 🎁🎁🎁🎁

read on AO3!

Rudely awoken by the incessant beep of your alarm, you open your eyes to find Nick Jonas staring back at you, and you sit up with a scream.

Realization washes over your sleep-addled brain in waves: first, that you aren’t actually staring at a real person. He’s just smizing on a hot pink poster, held up by some remarkably durable masking tape you stuck to the wall fifteen years ago. Second, it comes back to you that you are staring at said poster because you’ve woken up in your childhood bedroom. It’s been left untouched since you were a teenager, like a weird time capsule of all your high school obsessions.

After reaching for your phone to silence the alarm, you kick your way out from under the blankets, trying not to make eye contact with Nick, or Justin, or Zayn as you stumble to the bathroom. The circumstances of your grand return to living in your goddamn parents’ house linger like a bad taste in your mouth, one that all the tongue brushing in the world can’t remove.

It still doesn’t feel real. Taehyung, your best friend in the world since freshman year of college, kicked you out. Sure, it may have been phrased more like a gentle request, but as far as your ego is concerned, it still feels like exile. Banishment, even. The person you thought you could never be parted from made his choice, and he chose his fucking boyfriend over you.

Jungkook. You think the name with all the venom your cold, dead heart can manage as you spit toothpaste into the sink.

Jungkook, the weird, bug-eyed kid who put his toe-socked feet on your couch, drank his banana milk out of your favorite mug, and ate up all of your Samyang ramyeon because he ‘thought it was communal’. 

Jungkook, who ruined your sleep schedule nightly, either by fucking Taehyung senseless on the other side of your paper-thin apartment wall, or by blasting the same four Ariana Grande songs over and over on his bluetooth speaker and singing along in an annoyingly good voice. Either activity would go on well into the early hours of the morning, until you had to bang on the wall so hard you nearly put your fist through it.

Jungkook, whose dog once took a shit right on the floor in the middle of the kitchen.

Bam was cute enough to forgive, of course. But you can never forgive Taehyung for his betrayal. Especially when he knew you’d just been fired from your shitty coffee shop job for the stupidest reason ever, and he didn’t let that derail or even delay him. He still went ahead and delivered the killing blow.

Et tu, Taehyung? you think angrily to yourself as you stand in front of the suitcase containing as much of your closet as you could possibly fit. You still need to go back for your bigger furniture, and little things like your plates and your mugs and your silverware, which Jungkook is probably putting his grimy little fingers all over at this very moment. But until you’ve checked out of your indefinite vacation at the Nightmare Parental Hotel, there doesn’t really seem a point.

If you were less upset, you might take consolation in the fact that your parents aren’t actually here, that they’ve jaunted off to their timeshare until the new year, but you’re busy being too swallowed whole by your misery to find an ounce of joy in any piece of your current reality.

You dig through the pile of clothes until you manage to pull out something halfway decent. The first order of business now that you’ve moved back in is simple: acquire another stupid coffee shop job. You have no plans to stick around long, you just need something seasonal that will give you some meager income while you start looking for a real gig, one that is ideally not in your hometown.

Watching yourself in the mirror as you pull on a simple black blouse and your least-stained pair of jeans, you attempt to mentally dust off your interview skills. You conjure up your best fake smile and customer service voice, both of which are second-nature at this point.

Why do you want this job? “I’m just so passionate about coming home sticky and verbally abused by caffeine-addicted assholes every night.”

What’s your biggest weakness? “Clearly it’s the fact that I’m a ray of fucking sunshine.”

Why were you terminated from your last job? “Oh, well, I attempted to get my previous employer to improve their standards of worker treatment. You see, I selfishly requested that they raise the bar a single notch above hell. Certainly won’t happen again!”

This should go well, you tell yourself, and your reflection grimaces back.

With several hours to kill before your job interview and a growing desire to avoid the weird nostalgia of your childhood that seems to lurk in every corner of your parents’ house, you decide to take a walk.

The sky is bright blue and cloudless, and though the air is brisk, it isn’t terribly windy. You tuck in your earbuds as you shut the front door behind you and pick a direction, aimless, letting your mind wander to the soundtrack of your “seasonal depression” playlist.

A whole new crop of families must have moved into your parents’ neighborhood in the years since you moved out, because the streets are more alive with kids than you can ever remember them being, even when you were a kid yourself. Bikes and scooters lay abandoned on the sidewalks between homes, and you can hear the repeated echo of a basketball dribbling on a driveway, punctuated by distant, playful screaming.

Even in the daytime, you can tell these families have spared no expense when it comes to Christmas decor: some homes have every eave outlined in string lights, some have candy cane stakes dug into the perimeter of their perfectly manicured lawns, and some have been seemingly invaded by small armies of inflatable reindeer and snowmen. You can’t help but giggle a little at the inflatable decorations that have been set to turn off during the day, the way the airless material lays limp in the grass, giving the impression of a yard strewn with dead bodies.

But you remember what it looked like when you drove in last night, everything lit up and brought to life.

Your parents definitely didn’t have inflatable lawn decorations when you were a kid, but you’d get so excited every year when your dad would drag the ladder out and spend the day stringing up the simple rainbow lights you did have. You still remember the little spark of joy you’d feel in your chest when the colors would click on after dark, the way you would run outside every night just to see them twinkle, your breath puffing steam clouds in the air, your bare feet freezing on the ice-cold driveway.

It felt like magic then. But somewhere along the way you grew up. And now that feeling’s gone. Even at night, the lights just look like… lights.

Distracted as you are by the music in your ears and thoughts of your childhood that have brought you to a standstill on the sidewalk, you don’t notice what’s happening until it’s too late. 

A blur of red and white is suddenly circling around and between your legs, and you feel something twining over your ankles, then tugging with a force that threatens to knock you off balance. As you lean forward in an attempt to right yourself, the chaos in question slows enough for you to realize it’s a fluffy white dog in a red sweater, who has excitedly tangled you up in his leash.

You manage to find the looped end of the leash and slowly get yourself unwrapped while the dog continues to pant and jump and occasionally yap at you. With your legs freed, you squat down for a proper greeting, laughing to yourself as he lifts up on his hind legs, balancing his paws on your knee to lick an enthusiastic greeting across your cheek.

“Hi, puppy,” you murmur, trying to get him to hold still long enough to read the name on his tag. A voice beats you to it.

“Moni!”

When you glance up to find Moni’s owner jogging up the sidewalk, you have to make a conscious effort to keep your own tongue in your mouth, because good lord, he is fine.

He’s tall, towering over you even once you bring yourself back up to standing, and the black workout tank and athletic shorts he’s wearing do absolutely nothing to hide the thick, well-defined muscles of his arms, chest, and thighs.

Despite his lack of clothing in the cool winter air, you can see his face and neck are slick with sweat, his white-blonde hair damp with it too. There’s even a dark patch that’s soaked his shirt at his sternum, making the firm swell of his pecs that much more apparent. It takes you an extra second to break eye contact with them, but when you do finally manage to drag your gaze up to meet his, you realize his face is just as nice of a view: honey-tan skin, full lips, and cute dimples that pop as he gives a sheepish, appreciative laugh.

“Thank you,” he says, a little breathless; his voice is deep and slightly husky in a way that makes your face grow hot. You blink stupidly at him for a few moments, your mind reeling, and then it occurs to you that you still have his dog’s leash in your hand.

“No problem,” you manage, handing the looped end back over and double-checking to make sure your ankles are still free from their entanglement. Though now that this man is holding the leash, you kind of wish they weren’t.

“Moni’s usually good about not taking off when I stop to do a circuit,” he explains, like you’re the dog owner police. It makes you wonder what kind of Karens must have moved into this neighborhood since you left it. “I don’t know why he ran, maybe he saw a squirrel or something.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him with a smile, admiring Moni as he stretches and settles into a polite seated pose. “I like his sweater.”

“Thanks,” he laughs again. “C’mon Mon.”

You can’t help focusing on how big this guy’s hands are as he slips his fingers through the end of Moni’s leash, tugging slightly as if to encourage the dog back in the direction he came from.

Moni blinks and stays right where he is.

“You little shit,” his owner huffs under his breath, and you have to bite down on your bottom lip to keep from laughing. You distantly realize you should probably leave them to it and continue on your walk, but this is too entertaining to turn away from now. Your hot neighbor tries one more futile attempt to get Moni to move, then seems to give up entirely.

He stoops down with a low grunt of effort that makes your core flutter as he grabs the fluffy dog and hoists him up in his arms. You try to force yourself to stop noticing the way his biceps flex, the fact that the muscles of his arms are nearly bigger than your head.

“Thanks again,” he says with a final grateful smile, and your only response is to swallow hard and stand there like an idiot as he turns and carries his spoiled dog back home.

When you arrive for your interview, you’re delighted to discover that Indigo Coffee is nothing like your last job. It’s warm and bright, with large picture windows that flood the space in sunlight, and there’s a cozy personal touch to it, the likes of which you’d certainly never see in your former corporate shell of a workplace. The sitting area is dotted with live edge wood tables and mismatched chairs. There are an array of framed paintings on the walls that look handmade in a good way, simple yet bold brush-stroke lines in a deep blue color scheme. And, you realize as your eyes linger, the shop is absolutely overflowing with plants: in simple clay pots lined up along the windows, free-standing between tables, and tucked into bookshelves placed artfully throughout the space. 

You step closer to inspect one as you wait on your interviewer and are pleased to see that it’s real, that they all are— no waxy fake leaves jammed into a thick block of cement, but real greenery sprouted in real dirt, deep brown soil gone soft from what must have been a recent watering. These are plants someone cares for, coaxed and kept alive by someone’s time and patience and love. The thought makes you smile a little despite yourself.

There’s still fucking Christmas music playing, but you figure that’s inescapable this time of year.

“Are you here for the interview?” someone asks over your shoulder. As you turn away from the plant, you wonder if you’re imagining that the voice in question sounds slightly familiar, and then you find yourself once again staring up at a fine-ass man with white-blonde hair and a sweet pair of dimples.

He’s clearly showered since your last encounter, and is now slightly more covered up in a pair of faded jeans and a gray-green flannel thrown over a black shirt emblazoned with bold white lettering: Protect Trans Kids.

“Oh.” Moni’s owner blinks back at you, and the shock on his face is so apparent that a giggle escapes your lips before you can stop it. “Uh, hi again.”

“Hi,” you echo, equally flustered, before realizing you failed to answer his initial question. “Oh, yeah. Yes. I am. The interview. I’m— that’s me.” So well-spoken, you mentally kick yourself.

One dimple deepens slightly as he extends a hand. “Kim Namjoon. Owner of Indigo Coffee. And the world’s least obedient dog, as you saw earlier.”

You offer your best handshake in return and a smile that you surprisingly don’t have to force as you give Namjoon your name. He gestures to a table in the corner, and you each pull back a chair to have a seat. You try to banish any potential horny thoughts from your brain, but shifting into interview mode proves difficult as he rests his large hands on the table in front of him, drumming idly along to the horribly cheery music.

You manage to tear your gaze away from Namjoon’s fingers when he speaks again. “If it’s cool with you, we can just chat a little? I’m not so good at conducting formal interviews. Too inauthentic.”

It’s like you can feel some of the tension release from your shoulders. “I— yeah. That sounds great.”

“Cool,” he nods, and you try to ignore the rush of heat up your neck at the intensity of his stare. Professional, be professional. “So I saw on your resume that it looks like your last few jobs were out of town. Did you just move here?”

“Moved back,” you say quickly. “Yeah. I grew up here, actually.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen a little in clear interest. “Really? What brings you back?”

You purse your lips as you consider how to phrase it. “My life… kind of fell apart. So. I moved in with my parents for a bit. Like a winner.” His dimples pop when he smiles at your joke, and you drop your gaze to the table. “Just trying to figure out what’s next, and find something seasonal in the meantime.”

“Well, we could certainly use the help,” Namjoon admits. When you chance a glance up, there’s a look on his face like he’s choosing his next words carefully. “I saw in your application that you were terminated from your last position.” He leans in, lowering his voice slightly as he continues. “I’m gonna be honest, I hate that we even ask that question. But can you tell me a bit about what happened?”

You keep your stare fixed on the wood grain in front of you as you try to stay calm. “Well, if I can be honest too...” Squeezing your eyes shut, you tell yourself to just say it. “I was fired for trying to unionize.”

“Oh.” Namjoon sounds surprised, but you can’t manage to look at him. “Really?” You nod slowly, biting down on your bottom lip. “That’s— fucking illegal.”

That makes your gaze snap back up to meet his. His brow is furrowed slightly, a muscle in his jaw pulled tight.

“Yeah,” you say belatedly. “Yeah, I know. They made up a bunch of fake excuses as to why I was fired, but I knew what it really was. It was because I wanted them to actually pay us what we were worth, and hire more workers so we weren’t being scheduled to death. And I was getting everyone else riled up too, and I guess it scared them.”

Namjoon sits back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “Huh. Man. Well, I’m sorry that happened to you.”

It takes you a second to process what you’re hearing. Union has always been a scary word for any person in upper management you’ve previously encountered. You hadn’t expected this to be so… easy. For him to understand, or sympathize. “I— yeah. I am too.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Namjoon continues quickly, “I think it’s great, what you tried to do. I’m very pro-union.” He pauses for a moment, his face twisting slightly in thought. “I mean, admittedly, we don’t have one here. Granted, there are only five of us. I should probably ask, though, if they want one.”

You can’t quite hide your smile. “I’m gonna take a guess that you probably treat your employees pretty well as-is.”

“I try,” he says with a shake of his head. His eyes meet yours again. “So, here’s the deal. You have a ton of experience, and with holiday time off and a few people out sick, I’m super understaffed right now. You seem like you have a good head on your shoulders, and hopefully you feel like you can come to me if you have any issues, without fearing retaliation.”

You blink slowly, and he must be able to read the disbelief on your face. “What I’m saying is I’m offering you the seasonal position,” he clarifies. “Is that— do you, uh, accept?”

“Yes.” The word is chased by a dazed laugh, and Namjoon’s dimples resurface around a small smile.

“Cool. I told you I’m bad at interviews,” he huffs, rubbing a hand at the back of his neck. You try to ignore the swell of his bicep, clearly visible even beneath his bulky flannel. “I know this is a lot to ask, but. Is there any chance you can start, like, right now? Because Jimin’s shift ends in…” He tilts a little, fishing his phone from the front pocket of his jeans, and his mouth drops open in surprise when he gets a glimpse at the time.

“Oh, shit,” Namjoon murmurs, and then he raises his voice to call across the mostly empty store. “Jimin-ah! I’m so sorry!”

You turn around, your gaze landing on the barista leaned up against the counter next to the register. His dyed-gray hair dusts over his eyes, which pull into crescent moons as he laughs. “It’s cool. I knew you were almost done. But I’m gonna clock out now, if she’s good?”

“Yeah,” you answer, turning back to Namjoon. “Yeah, I can start now.”

The two of you move behind the counter, and you sweep your hair up out of your face while Namjoon starts to go through a basic run-down of where everything is located. The overhead bell tinkles as Jimin shoulders the front door open, and he lifts a hand over his head in parting.

“See you after the holidays!”

“Alright,” Namjoon says as he waves to Jimin, a little breathless from having rambled on for the better part of several minutes. “That was a lot. Do you want to just start on register? I feel like that should be easy enough, and I can train you on everything as people come in, since it’s pretty dead right now.”

You shrug. “Works for me.”

Within half an hour, there’s a line out the door, and Namjoon has managed to spill espresso grounds all over his shoes for a second time.

“Ah, shit,” he groans, taking a step back. “Sorry. Been a minute since I’ve had to be back here.”

“It’s okay,” you try to reassure him, but you can see from the faces of the customers who have been waiting on their drinks for several minutes— including one who’s had hers remade three times, all of them incorrect— that it is very much not okay. You certainly lack the people skills to smooth over any of Namjoon’s mistakes, and you can feel a stress-induced eye twitch starting to flare up, brought on by Kelly Clarkson’s incessant yuletide belting.

You give your boss five more minutes, wherein he scalds his hand on the milk steamer, forgets about a cookie in the warmer until it’s burnt entirely black, and nearly turns the blender on with the lid off, before you finally intervene.

“Hey, Namjoon?” You do your best to keep your expression pleasant when he glances over at you, wiping at his brow with the back of his hand. “Maybe we should switch?”

“A-are you sure?” he stammers, apparently torn between wanting to be a good boss and a clear desire to just take the L. “I feel bad, this is literally your first shift.”

“I think I can handle it,” you reassure him, lowering your voice a little. “Let me take care of the drinks, and you can do your… endearing golden retriever thing. Keep the people entertained.”

Color blooms in the apples of his cheeks as his dimples make a brief appearance. “Oh, okay. Can do. Just let me know if you need help.”

You can’t imagine a universe where his clumsiness could in any way be considered helpful, but you keep that thought to yourself as you smile at him. At least he’s cute.

Things improve dramatically once your roles are reversed: as you expected, Namjoon is far more charismatic than he is coordinated, and he chats endlessly with the people waiting on their drinks, hardly pausing long enough to take a breath, while you scramble around trying to get your bearings in a new environment. The steady stream of customers doesn’t let up for the rest of the evening, until the last few finally trickle out of the store a few minutes after close, and you waste no time locking the door behind them with a sigh of relief.

You spin around, letting your back thud against the door for a moment as you watch Namjoon fight with a broom and dustpan in a futile attempt to get espresso dust out of the grout between the tiles. There’s a dull ache starting to thud in your skull, and it’s only deepened by the shrill opening notes of another fucking a cappella song.

“Namjoon?” you ask as you cross toward the counter, and his head instantly snaps up. “Do you think we could maybe turn off the Christmas music?”

“Oh, sure.” He’s already fumbling to grab his phone, and he taps a few buttons until the music suddenly switches, a soft voice starting to croon over an old school beat.

“Thanks,” you say, and you can’t help the pity smile that pulls up your mouth when he returns to his useless task. “I think the grout might be a lost cause, but I can go ahead and mop whenever you’re ready.”

He rights himself with a defeated sigh, nodding his head to the storage closet in the back. You follow his lead to retrieve the mop, then set about filling up the bucket with water and cleaning solution. Namjoon’s voice floats in from the front of the shop as he busies himself with his own closing tasks.

“Imagine smokin’ weed in the street without cops harassin’ / Imagine goin’ to court with no trial / Lifestyle cruisin’ blue Bahama waters / No welfare supporters, more conscious of the way we raise our daughters...”

You’re laughing a little as you roll the bucket out, starting at the door to work your way back. “Is this… Nas?”

He glances up, like he’s just remembered other people exist in the world. “Yeah, sorry. I can turn it off.”

“No, no,” you say quickly when he starts to reach for his phone again. “This is good. Much better than Pentatonix. I’m just… you really know every word.”

Namjoon shrugs, clearly embarrassed. “He’s my favorite.”

The revelation surprises you, and you pause to think as you pull the mop back and forth over the tile floor. It didn’t even occur to you that Namjoon would have a favorite kind of music, apart from the soft elevator muzak you imagine must play on a steady loop in his brain, given the way he fumbles through life.

“I actually wanted to be a rapper,” his voice comes back, and you look up again, your interest piqued. “When I was younger. But you know. Life had other plans.”

“Ah yes, the rapper to coffee shop owner pipeline,” you muse, and he barks a laugh that you wish you didn’t find so hot. Shaking your head, you force yourself to look back down at the espresso-studded tile, doing your best to shove your attraction aside and not think about it. He’s your boss, dumbass.

Still, it’s hard to ignore, particularly as he continues to rap along to each song that comes on, his voice deeper and huskier than you’ve heard it thus far in casual conversation. He doesn’t miss a word, and you can’t deny that it’s impressive. And sexy. Fuck.

Once the floor has been successfully mopped and everything else is put back together, you hop up onto the counter to wait for the tile to dry, and your gaze lingers over Namjoon’s large hands as he cashes out the register. He flips through the bills in time to the music, still humming under his breath as he goes, and you do your best to hold in your laugh when he inevitably loses count and has to start over from the beginning. Thankfully the second attempt sticks, and he smiles proudly to himself as he zips everything up into the deposit bag.

“First shift down,” he announces, as if you might have forgotten, and then his eyes find yours and you swear your breath gets stuck in your throat. “How do you feel?”

It only occurs to you now how close he’s standing to you, and with the way your legs are casually dangling over the edge of the counter, it wouldn’t take much for him to step between them. And god, he’s so damn tall, you’re practically eye-to-eye.

“Uh,” you manage, your mouth suddenly gone dry. “Good. I feel good.”

“That’s good,” he answers, his voice dipping into that throaty tone again. You find yourself wondering absentmindedly if maybe Namjoon has a customer service voice, too, and then for the briefest flash of a moment, his gaze flits from your eyes to your lips and back again. It’s so quick, you can’t be sure it even really happened.

You tell yourself it’s just your exhausted post-shift brain seeing things that aren’t there, wanting this fine-ass man to be into you, too.

A sudden bang on the front door makes you flinch so hard, you come dangerously close to kneeing Namjoon in the crotch. He takes a large step back as you whip around to look over your shoulder, only to see a kid’s face pressed to the glass, framed by two small hands. You’ve never been great at telling the age of children on sight, but this one looks like… maybe a middle schooler?

“Whose fucking kid is that?” you say automatically, blinking, dumbfounded. Namjoon’s laugh is a low rumble behind you.

“That would be mine.”

It takes several days for the shock to wear off. Your boss has a kid. Kim “could’ve burnt the building down with a single cookie” Namjoon is at least partially responsible for keeping another human being alive. Which means you have a crush… on a father.

A father who also happens to be your boss.

You try not to think about any of it.

There’d been brief introductions when you left the shop that first night, but all you’d really managed to glean was the kid’s name, Sol, and their pronouns. As someone who is historically terrible with children, you’d excused yourself the minute Namjoon locked the front door, after what felt like an eternity spent watching him pat each of his pockets twice before he finally managed to find his keys.

“I hope it wasn’t weird,” your boss says out of nowhere in the middle of your next shift, during a much-needed moment of peace after the morning rush. “For you to meet Sol like that. It’s just been hard, since their mom, uh…”

Namjoon trails off, leaving the sentence unfinished. You glance up, eyes widening as you put the pieces together.

“Oh my god,” you breathe. “I’m so sorry.”

His gaze meets yours, and it’s like you can see the wheels in his head turning before he catches up. “No, no,” he says quickly, and then he starts to laugh. “Wow, I really did not start that sentence well. She’s not dead. She just got married, and she’s on her honeymoon for most of December. The logistics have been hard, is what I meant.”

An embarrassed heat creeps up your neck, and your elbows thud against the countertop as you press your face into your hands, attempting to muffle your own laughter. “In my defense,” you groan, “you really made it sound like you had a dead wife.”

“Not dead! She’s fine!” Namjoon’s dimples are as prominent as you’ve ever seen them when you peek up at him from your full-body cringe. “Very much alive, very much not my wife.” The muscles in his arms flex as he crosses them over his chest, leaning up against the counter next to the register. “Never was, actually.”

“Really?” you answer automatically, your damned curiosity getting the better of you.

He nods, his voice a little more serious when he continues, rambling on in the way that you’ve already started to suspect is his default setting, talking as if to fill empty space. “We were seventeen when we got pregnant. I knew we were young then, but I don’t think I really realized. Now that I’m almost thirty, I know: seventeen is fucking young.”

The line of his jaw tightens, thoughtful, as his gaze sweeps over the floor. “I thought I wanted to marry her, or at least felt obligated to. Like it was the right thing to do, but. We didn’t have any money, and then it all got so hectic after Sol was born. Didn’t even take a year for us to realize it wasn’t gonna work, not for us.”

You blink, trying to take in all the new information. “That sounds really hard.”

“It was,” Namjoon admits. “But we were both on the same page about it. That no matter what, Sol had to come first.” He glances up with a shrug. “It’s all good now. She’s a great co-parent, and her new husband is really good for her. And… well, I have Indigo.”

The tinkling of the bell at the front door snaps you out of a daze, makes you realize you’ve been staring at him, dumbfounded. You do your best to shoot Namjoon a soft smile, and to ignore the pang in your chest as he turns to greet the customer that’s just wandered in, already starting to babble on about the weather.

You find yourself more grateful for Namjoon’s presence with each passing shift, in a way that you try to convince yourself is thoroughly platonic. Between fairly steady work and his very steady chatter, your time spent in the warm, sunny space of Indigo turns out to be a good distraction from your own miserable excuse for a life. The repetitive motions of making drink after drink are oddly comforting, and you have to admit, Namjoon really is good with the customers.

“Peppermint mocha to go.”

You do your best to follow up the sentence with a polite smile as you set a drink down for the customer who has done nothing but scowl at you the whole time you were making it. The silent prayer you’ve sent out to the universe that he’ll take whatever personal problem he has elsewhere and leave you alone has clearly gone unanswered.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he snaps, and you can feel your shoulders creep up towards your ears in anticipation of nothing good. Here we fucking go.

You blink twice, trying to keep your service persona engaged. “I’m sorry, is that not what you ordered?” It is, you know it is, you heard him say it.

“No, that’s mine,” the man quickly responds, reaching out to snatch the cup in a motion that makes you flinch. “But do you hear this fucking song?”

The honest answer is no: at this point the ever-present Christmas music might as well be white noise, so you have to make a conscious effort to tune back in and listen. It’s a few seconds, and then you pick up on the melody. “…Last Christmas?”

“Uh, yeah,” he continues, explaining like you’re stupid. “The original. Last Christmas by Wham!” When it’s clear you still aren’t putting the pieces together, he scoffs in pure frustration. “You just made me lose Whamageddon! I’ve won every year for the last five years, I can’t believe you would even put this on your fucking playlist!”

Your face pulls into an incredulous grimace before you can think to control it. “Uh, I’m sorry, but I didn’t make the—”

He cuts you off. “First off, I don’t need the fucking attitude. And surely you’re at least capable of checking what songs are on there, right? That’s not too advanced for you to handle?”

You didn’t even hear Namjoon walk up from the back office, but he’s suddenly stepping in front of you, and you’re more than glad to move back and let him handle this dude before you end up in jail. “Woah, woah, alright,” Namjoon interjects, his voice loud enough to carry. “What’s going on?”

The man beats you to it. “I’m trying to file a legitimate complaint and she’s rolling her fucking eyes and getting an attitude with me!”

“It’s the song,” you explain briefly, trying to keep everything about your expression neutral. “He’s mad that we’re… playing Wham.”

Namjoon’s face twists in an expression that you would find funny if you weren’t so fucking livid, one that you’re pretty sure is the mirror image of your own reaction minutes earlier. “The song? Seriously?”

You can see the guy scrambling, clearly starting to get embarrassed at his own dramatics. “Alright, I don’t have time for this. I guess I just need to take my business elsewhere, because this is ridiculous. What ever happened to the customer is always right?”

Namjoon goes silent for a minute, and you try to ignore the way the look on his face makes your pulse quicken, thudding brightly in the hollow of your neck. His voice is deadly serious when he speaks again. “I appreciate that you’re upset, but if you’re going to look my employee in the face, after she just performed a service for you, and disrespect her like that? Over a fucking song? Nah, I’m not gonna tolerate it. Maybe the next time you want someone to make you a toothpaste drink, you should take your ass to Starbucks.”

It takes every ounce of strength you have to keep the reaction off your face until the asshole has stormed out the front door, nasty drink in hand. As the bell finally tinkles to signal his departure, you collapse forward, just barely catching yourself on the counter so you don’t crumple straight down to the floor.

“Oh my god.” Your laugh of disbelief comes out more like a groan, at the ridiculous complaint and your boss’ insanely attractive comeback alike. “I fucking hate this time of year.”

“Hey.” The word is punctuated by Namjoon’s shoulder bumping into yours, and you look back up at him, still laughing a little at your own misery. His eyes search yours, sincere. “Assholes are assholes no matter what season it is. I’m sure that guy finds plenty of things to complain about the other eleven months of the year, too. Don’t let him ruin it for you.”

You can’t help rolling your eyes, if only because you can do it freely now, without a man standing over you and yelling about your ‘bad attitude’. “I guess,” you huff. “And thank you.”

Namjoon shakes his head, like it’s nothing. “Chin up, okay?”

The two of you breeze through closing that night, familiar enough to fall into a steady routine now. You’re wiping everything down behind the counter and humming along to Tupac when Namjoon’s voice drags you back out of your thoughts in a way you’ve already grown accustomed to.

“You know…”

You glance up, only to realize that he’s started to flip chairs on top of tables to clear the floor, and is grabbing them two at a time, one in each hand. The image makes you a little dizzy, and you tell yourself to focus on his words, not his biceps.

“I think we make a pretty good team,” he concludes.

“Yeah,” you breathe, trying to keep your composure at the unexpected compliment. “I was thinking the same thing. And thanks again for, you know. Handling that guy.”

Namjoon shrugs, like it’s nothing. “Hey, you’re doing me a favor, taking this seasonal job. I’m not about to let anyone fuck with you.”

You bite down on a smile as you head towards the back to grab the mop, and then you hear a loud bang on the front door— it’s another sound you’ve gotten used to in your brief time at Indigo. There’s the click of the deadbolt, chased by the tinkling overhead bell and Namjoon’s chiding voice. “Homie, if you break my door I’m gonna make you get a job to pay me back for it.”

“You think I don’t know about child labor laws?” you hear Sol retort, clearly not intimidated, and the attitude in their voice has you biting back a laugh.

Wheeling the mop bucket out of the storage closet, you glance up to see Namjoon jut his chin toward the large front window, indicating Sol to take a seat on the ledge. “Feet off the floor, she’s tryna clean.”

Sol complies, plopping down in the window with their eyes glued to their phone as Namjoon disappears back toward the office to grab his things. You watch as Sol pulls their knees into their chest so their chunky black boots clear the tile, and you can’t help noticing that said boots are adorned with oversized silver bat-shaped buckles, reflecting the amber streetlight gleam that leaks through the window.

“I like your boots,” you say, more to yourself than Sol, half expecting them to be so engrossed in TikTok that they don’t even hear you.

But to your surprise, Sol looks up.

“Thanks,” they say, glancing at their feet. “I just got them. I’m in my post-hardcore era right now.”

The statement is delivered without a trace of irony, and you do your best to hold in another amused giggle as you respond. “Wow, you are… so much cooler than I was when I was your age.”

Sol seems to consider this for a moment, then shrugs. “I mean, you didn’t have the internet back then, right?”

The question hits you like a train, and you have to pause and press a hand over your heart at the impact. “Okay, ouch, I’m not that old.” They grimace apologetically, and you lean up against the mop handle in thought. “But the internet definitely wasn’t like it is now. The only social media that really existed was Myspace, and my parents wouldn’t let me make one. I mostly just used the internet to, like, play RuneScape.”

“Oh shit,” Sol remarks, sounding remarkably like Namjoon in the process. “You played old school?!”

It’s like you can feel your bones crumbling to dust inside your body, and you wince as you resume dragging the mop over the tile. “Hey, back then it was the only kind of RuneScape we had. But yes, you can consider me a… founding father of that game.”

“That’s cool!” they exclaim, sounding so genuine it makes your head spin. When did RuneScape become cool again? “My friends and I play old school all the time. It’s the best, for real.”

You shake your head in disbelief as you continue to mop, and a long pause settles between you, with Sol’s interest clearly returning to their phone.

Fuck, you think to yourself, what else do kids even talk about? Marvel movies? It’s like your mind has gone totally blank, unable to conjure up a single topic of conversation, and you practically huff out an audible sigh of relief when their voice breaks the silence again.

“I think my dad has been happier since you started working here.”

The mop nearly slips out of your hands entirely, and you glance up, eyes wide. “I— really?”

Sol nods, playing absentmindedly with the strings of their black hoodie, then bringing the end of one up to their mouth to gently chew on. “It’s a theory I have. A game theory. I plan to ask additional follow-up questions tonight.”

At this, you can’t help but laugh. “Well, I’m sure your investigation will be very thorough.”

There’s a flash of a dimple in Sol’s cheek, like the mirror image of their dad. “I can tell you what he says, if you want.”

You wonder how telling your own smile is. “I mean… I can’t say I’m not curious.” You’re distantly aware of the sound of the office door closing, chased by Joon whistling to himself, and you lower your voice conspiratorially as you drop the mop back into the bucket. “I look forward to hearing what you find out.”

Monday morning, when you wake up to the omnipresent smize of Nick Jonas, you can’t help smiling back. 

You made it through your first week of work, and it wasn’t even that torturous. And best of all, Namjoon reminded you the night before that Indigo is closed on Mondays, which gives you an entire day to spend as you please. A real day off, which was truly unheard of at your last job, where you’d spend your non-scheduled days still anticipating an incoming emergency text asking you to cover a shift last-minute. More often than not, you’d end up working after all.

“But not today,” you announce to Nick.

A grand plan has already started to form in your head, one that involves a party size bag of Hot Cheetos and all eight episodes of The Fabulous, and yet. There’s a lingering urge at the back of your brain that you can’t quite ignore. With all the day-off energy you can muster, you drag yourself out of bed and tug on a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt, then shuffle into the bathroom to at least make yourself halfway decent.

You’re just going for a quick walk around the block to get some fresh air, you tell yourself. That’s all. Certainly no other reason.

It’s only a few minutes after you step out your front door that a fluffy white blur nearly collides with your shins, and when you stoop down to lift Moni into your arms, you once again can’t keep the smile off your face. Huh, who could’ve seen this coming?

But when you glance up, there’s no hot buff man jogging up the sidewalk after his dog. In fact, you realize as you look back at the ball of fluff in your arms, he isn’t wearing a leash or harness at all, just another cute sweater.

“Are you even supposed to be out here?” you ask Moni. His only answer is to drag his tongue up the side of your face.

You shift him a little in your arms so you can fumble for the tag attached to his collar, and thankfully, there’s an address listed. It takes you a second to get your bearings in the neighborhood, having not lived here for close to a decade, but it eventually comes back to you where the listed street is, and you start to walk. Moni is already blinking sleepily in your arms, clearly enjoying his preferred mode of transportation.

A laugh bubbles up in your chest as you approach the house in question— even if you hadn’t had Moni’s tag to guide you, finding his home would’ve been easy enough as soon as you passed this street, because you can hear old school hip-hop bumping through a speaker despite still being several houses down the block. You suppose Namjoon can get away with it during the day, when all the neighborhood kids are still in school.

As you make your way up the driveway, you realize the music is actually coming from behind the house, and when you follow the path that leads around back, you spot the culprit: a simple wooden-slat fence surrounds the yard, and the gate has been left wide open.

Before you can even make it over the threshold, a familiar voice reaches your ears, sounding much closer than the music. “Ah, shit.”

Namjoon comes barreling through the open gate so fast he practically runs you over, and Moni yaps, like he’s annoyed at being jostled as you quickly try to stumble out of his owner’s path.

“Oh. Uh, hi.”

You wonder if you’ll ever be able to take in how shock looks on Namjoon’s features without giggling a little. Today is certainly not that day. It’s just so endearing, the way his eyes widen and his mouth pulls into a perfect o-shape.

“Hi,” you breathe out around your laughter, trying to ignore the heat that flushes into your face when his dimples appear in return. “I think I found something that belongs to you.”

With a wave of his hand and several profuse thank yous, you follow Namjoon back through the gate, and wait until he firmly shuts it behind you before letting Moni down to trot off across the yard. It’s only now that you take Namjoon in properly: he’s in a gray hoodie under a pair of denim overalls, both of which are splattered artfully with paint in a variety of colors.

“I was just in my studio,” he explains, tipping his head toward the small shed in the yard, which you quickly realize is also the source of the music that led you here. “Doin’ some art. Do you, uh… wanna see?”

“Yeah, okay,” you answer with a nod.

“Fair warning, I’m really bad at it,” he calls over his shoulder as he leads you in the open studio door, raising his voice to be heard over the music. He reaches for his phone, propped up in the windowsill, to turn the volume down a few notches.

There’s an easel up against the far wall holding what must be his current project, a half-finished scene that you realize upon closer inspection is thousands of tiny dots of color, painstakingly blotted onto the canvas to form a mountain landscape at a distance. A few more pieces that he’s already completed have been leaned up against another wall to dry, one featuring an abstract array of featherlight brushstrokes, and another where the paint’s been globbed on in thick layers.

Namjoon is talking a mile a minute as you inspect the canvases. “I thought maybe I’d do cyanotypes today, but it’s not sunny enough, and I’ve made that mistake before. I’m really into texture right now, so I’m trying out some different techniques with paint. I want to get better at pointillism, but it’s a lot harder than you’d think it would be. ‘Cause it’s just dots, right? But you have to be able to see the forest for the trees, too.”

“These are amazing,” you finally manage to murmur, and to your surprise, the compliment actually renders him silent. When you turn back over your shoulder to look at him, he’s glancing down, almost like he’s embarrassed.

“Thanks. But I just do it for fun. ‘Cause I love art.”

“I can tell,” you say, and when he looks up, you offer him a smile you hope reads as encouraging. “Did you make the art at work, too?”

He nods, still sheepish, and that answer also surprises you. You recall thinking on your first day that the paintings hung on the walls looked handmade, but it never crossed your mind that they might have been made by Namjoon’s hands. Maybe because you’ve grown so accustomed to seeing him drop and break things, you haven’t ever considered him as also capable of… creation.

And yet, here he is. Proving you wrong.

“Sorry,” Namjoon’s voice makes you refocus on him, and your brow furrows in confusion at the unexpected apology. “This is literally your one day away from me and here I am, taking up your time. Thanks again for bringing Moni back.”

“It’s okay.” You shrug. “Don’t have much going on today, honestly. I never really know what to do with myself when I’m not working. Which I’m aware is very sad.”

“Well, uh,” Namjoon starts, and when he takes a single step closer, you swear you feel something flutter in your stomach— or maybe lower. “Sol’s got a half-day today, since it’s the last day before break, so I’m picking them up in a bit. And we were gonna go on a hike, probably take Moni too. You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like?”

Your eyes widen at the invitation. “Oh. That sounds great. I mean, if you’re sure I wouldn’t be intruding?”

He shakes his head, the corner of his mouth pulling up just so. “Nah. I actually think Sol really likes you. At least, they wouldn’t stop asking questions about you at dinner last night.”

“Is that right?” You do your best to keep your expression neutral.

Namjoon drives far enough north that there’s actually snow on the ground when you climb out of his front seat. You shove your hands into the pockets of your jacket as you follow him across the gravel parking lot towards the trailhead, a few paces behind Sol and Moni.

Sol shoots an expression of pure mischief at you over their shoulder, and then immediately starts to sprint up the marked path through the woods, Moni easily keeping up.

“Bye, nerds!” you hear them call before they disappear between the trees.

“Stay on the trail!” Namjoon shouts back, sounding as dad-like as you’ve ever heard him, and you can’t help but laugh. The two of you quicken your steps slightly to not fall too far behind, tracking the set of boot and paw-prints they’ve left to mark their trail.

For a moment, it’s silent between you, save the crunching of snow underfoot. It’s nice, being out in nature like this, time spent with Namjoon where you aren’t suffering through Christmas music and ungrateful customers. Where you can just… breathe. It makes you feel a little less sorry for yourself, a little less fixated on your own miserable life.

You glance over at him as that strange seasonal melancholy starts to settle into your bones again. “Are the holidays… better? With a kid?”

Namjoon makes a face, like he’s surprised by the question. “I mean, they’re definitely different. Then again, it’s been a long time since I did the holidays without a kid— not since I was a kid myself. What do you mean by better?”

Self-consciousness washes over you, your gaze drifting down to the path beneath your feet. “I don’t know, there’s just… I can’t shake this weird feeling now that I’m back home. This time of year used to be so exciting for me when I was Sol’s age. Everything felt special. Magical. But now I’m back here, and nothing’s really changed, except me. But I just keep feeling like the magic is gone. It’s… sad.”

He nods, taking a moment before he responds, and he’s chuckling softly to himself when he finally does. “You know, it’s kinda funny. When Sol was younger I actually felt a lot of stress this time of year. I couldn’t really enjoy it, because I was too busy trying to make sure that they had the best holiday I could possibly give them. That they didn’t feel like they were getting any less, since, you know. Their mom and I aren’t together. It’s funny that you bring up the magic, because I put a lot of pressure on myself to make that magic happen. But now that they’re a little older, I don’t know, it’s different.”

“Different how?” you prompt.

A dimple deepens as he hesitates. “It’s gonna sound corny. But really, I realized that the holidays aren’t about the gifts, or the decorations, or every little thing going perfect. You can make yourself sick over that shit, and I did, but kids don’t really care about it.” He pauses, and for a second you think that might be it, but then he keeps going, eyes fixed on the towering pine trees ahead of you.

“The year I opened Indigo, I had sank so much fucking money into it that I was broke. Broke broke. I couldn’t afford a single gift, a tree, not even a turkey. Sol and I sat on the floor of my shitty apartment and ate Chapagetti and watched Friends. And I felt like the biggest fucking failure imaginable. And then you know what happened?”

“What?”

“Sol turned to me, and they said, ‘This is the best Christmas ever, because we get to hang out, just the two of us.’” He blinks a few times, like he’s trying to ward off tears, and his voice comes back slightly less steady than before. “I still don’t know if they said that because they really meant it, or if they could just tell that I needed to hear it. But either way, I thought to myself: how fucking lucky am I, to have such a great kid? Like what did I ever do to deserve them? I still feel that way.”

Namjoon shrugs, as if to shake off the emotion. “I don’t know. Maybe that’s not helpful to you, but. I just see it differently now. It’s not about the what, or the how. It’s about the who. Spending this time of year with the people you care about, and making sure they know you do. That’s the real magic.”

You realize the trail has carried you up the sloping hillside, and is now flattening out at the edge of a clearing, where you can see Moni chasing Sol through the snow, can hear their high-pitched laughter ringing out in the wide-open air.

When you turn back to Namjoon, he’s already looking at you.

“I’m sorry you don’t feel the magic right now. I didn’t either, for a long time. But it does come back, I believe that. It’ll come back for you, too.”

You blink up at him, overwhelmed by his willingness to be so honest, and by the wisdom of his words. “I— thank you,” you finally manage to say.

Namjoon doesn’t answer, just glances up to where Sol and Moni are still playing, and your gaze follows his out over the snow-covered field. Sol is dusting off a sizable stick, and they call out for Moni to fetch before launching it into a dramatic arc, high up in the air.

Moni watches it go, entirely disinterested, then settles onto his haunches in the snow with a yawn.

“You’re so bad at being a dog!” Sol shouts, and that’s enough to make you and Namjoon both dissolve into laughter. They look up at the sound, hands-on-hips, before yelling again, this time in your direction. “My dad said he has a crush on you!”

Your jaw drops open, and Namjoon’s eyes are wide as you’ve ever seen them when you look up at him.

“Damn, dude, you said you were gonna be chill about it!” he exclaims, and you press a hand to your mouth as a fresh wave of giggles overtakes you. Given how long Namjoon’s legs are, it only takes him a few strides to catch up to Sol. You stay a tentative distance behind him, but still close enough to be able to make out their conversation.

“Uncle Hobi says you need to be bolder with women,” Sol chides, matter-of-fact.

“Uncle Hobi says a lot of shit,” Namjoon mutters under his breath.

“He painted my nails,” Sol raises their voice, clearly talking more to you than to their dad, and holds up a hand for you to see, waggling their fingers proudly.

“They look great,” you call out in response.

Namjoon turns back to you as you step in closer, then juts his chin to a bench at the other side of the clearing. “Sit with me for a sec?”

With a nod, you follow him over, and he wipes the metal surface free of snow with his sleeve before gesturing for you to have a seat. For a moment, the two of you sit silently and watch Sol, who is already busying themself with building a snowperson while Moni slow-blinks encouragingly from a distance.

Namjoon’s words chase a heavy sigh. “I’m gonna be real with you, despite the fact that my child just stole my thunder. I like you a lot.”

Your heart swells in your chest, threatening to burst. “I-I like you too,” you stammer back immediately. “Have definitely been harboring my own crush… basically since I started working at Indigo.”

When you turn to look at him, it surprises you a little that he isn’t smiling. You can see a muscle working in his jaw, like he’s nervous.

“That’s the thing,” he finally relents. “Work. I don’t— I hadn’t really planned to tell you how I was feeling, or act on it. Because I’m your boss, and that means, you know. There’s a power dynamic there. And it would be… unethical of me to blur the lines like that, by getting involved with my employee. I wanted you to come out with us today because it was a chance for you and I to be equals, outside of work, but it’s not like that dynamic just goes away, you know? And I feel a little guilty about it now. Because I really like being around you so much, but I just. We can’t. It wouldn’t be right. Not while you’re working for me.”

You stare down at the snow under your boots as you take in his words, and you can’t help it. Try as you might to sit there and take his worries seriously, laughter flutters out of you before you can hold it in.

“What?” Namjoon asks, and you shake your head, trying to compose yourself.

“I really, really appreciate that you gave it so much thought,” you say, willing your voice to stay even. “I mean it.”

“It’s weighed really heavy on me, if I’m honest,” he says solemnly, and you glance over to see him staring into the middle distance, like he’s deep in contemplation.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re reaching out to where his hand rests on the bench between you and covering it with your own.

“Namjoon?” you ask softly, and it seems to snap him out of his trance enough to look back at you.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” you preface. “But if I have to choose between you and my stupid seasonal coffee shop job?” The smile starts to flicker over your face again. “Then I quit. I quit right now.”

“Oh thank god,” Namjoon breathes, and you can only make a soft noise of surprise when all at once, he takes your face in his hands and kisses you. You need a split second for the shock to wear off, and then you’re moving your mouth against his, one hand fisting tight in the fabric of his jacket. His lips are full and warm, and it feels like far too soon that he’s pulling back again, his cheeks flushed with color.

“Will you, uh—” he pauses, like he’s remembering how to form a sentence. “Will you still work tomorrow though? Jimin’s back after Christmas, but I really don’t think I can survive a shift on my own.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, still a little breathless from his kiss. “Yeah, I think you’d burn the place down.”

Unable to deny the claim, he laughs brightly as you untangle from each other, then gets to his feet before offering a hand to help you up. “We should head out, it’s gonna get dark soon.”

It’s true: across the wide clearing you can already see the sun threatening to sink back down between the trees, casting a golden-pink light that gleams off the snow and paints the world in warmth.

Sol leads the way back through the woods to the car, tugging Moni along by their leash, while you and Namjoon bring up the rear. You glance over at him a few times to catch him staring, and you scrape your teeth across your bottom lip, unable to keep the smile off your face, unable to stop yourself from mentally replaying the moment when he kissed you, over and over.

Just as you step under the shadow of a large tree, snow-covered branches stretching up toward the clear sky above you, Namjoon stops in the path. It’s so abrupt that you continue a few more paces before you even realize, and then you stop, too, glancing back towards him.

“Hey Sol,” Namjoon calls. “Think you and Moni can make it all the way back to the car in ten seconds?”

“I know what you’re doing,” comes Sol’s cheeky reply, but when Namjoon starts counting backwards from ten, you can hear the crunch of their boots taking off down the path.

“Eight, seven, six…” You watch as Namjoon cranes his neck until he deems Sol far enough out of sight, taking a step toward you as his counting trails off, and you find yourself pulled into him like a magnet. “Come here,” he murmurs, and then his hands are slipping up your waist and guiding you backwards until your back hits the trunk of the tree.

In true Namjoon fashion, he uses way more strength than is necessary for the task, and though your winter jacket cushions you from the impact, you’re smacked against the bark so hard that it knocks a dusting of snow off the branches above you, covering you both in flakes that stick to your hair and eyelashes. The sudden rush of cold makes you gasp into Namjoon’s mouth, but then he’s rolling his tongue over yours and you can’t think about anything else. A heavy pulse has started to thud between your legs at the heat of his breath in your mouth, the way his hips have you pinned to the tree, his body big enough to cover yours entirely.

“Joon,” you find the air to breathe as his lips trail hungrily down the slope of your neck. You rake a hand through his hair, white-blonde strands studded with snow, to try and pull his attention back, despite very much not wanting him to stop. “Joon, we should go. Before someone steals your kid.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs against your skin, and then his mouth is on yours again for one more kiss, like he can’t get enough. “Okay,” he finally grunts as he pulls away, sounding as begrudgingly responsible as you feel. Your head is still spinning; you want nothing more than to stay here and let him kiss you dizzy.

“Let’s go.”

He takes a step back so you can right yourself, reaching out to dust some snow off your jacket, and then the two of you resume walking up the path, sharing a breathless laugh like confidantes. You assume it’s just his standard clumsiness when Namjoon’s hand knocks into yours, but then his fingers are twining through yours purposefully, until you’re pressed palm to palm.

The rush of heat that blooms in your chest at his touch keeps you warm the rest of the way to the car.

Your last shift at Indigo somehow manages to feel exactly like every shift that’s come before it and completely new at the same time.

The work is the same, the steady stream of customers unchanged, the Christmas music still an aggravating soundtrack. But you no longer feel like you have to ignore the butterflies that flutter in your stomach when Namjoon asks you a question, or meets your gaze across the shop.

The only urges you have to suppress are indecent ones, made worse by Namjoon seemingly taking advantage of every opportunity to touch you: hip-checking you when you’re both standing at the front counter, pressing a hand to the small of your back whenever he has to squeeze behind you, leaning in a little closer than necessary to be heard over the noise of the milk steamer. It’s enough to make your breath hitch each time, and you can’t help but wonder if he feels the same relief at not having to hold back anymore.

Towards the end of the night, it surprises you when the typically consistent flow of customers starts to slow down, until it seems to have ceased entirely. You still have two hours to go, but you find yourself staring at the walls, every table empty, having done all the side work you can think of to distract yourself from boredom.

The sound of the front door’s lock clicking shut makes you glance up, only to see Namjoon flipping the open sign over.

“What are you doing?” you ask, blinking dumbfounded, and he looks over his shoulder at you with a shrug.

“It’s Christmas Eve Eve, and I’m the owner, so. We’re closing early. Effective immediately.” The decree makes you laugh a little, and his dimples wink back. “Let’s finish cleaning, I wanna show you something.”

In record time, you find yourself standing outside the front door of Indigo as Namjoon locks up, only tonight your hands are kept warm by the hot chocolates he’d made for the two of you as you closed. He takes his cup back once his hands are free, and you try a tentative sip from yours, now cool enough to drink without burning your mouth. Given what you witnessed of his barista abilities on your first day, you brace yourself for the worst, but your eyes widen in pleasant surprise when the liquid hits your tongue.

“Being a dad means getting really good at a few specific things,” he says by way of explanation as he unlocks his car doors, and you smile as you slip into the passenger seat.

It occurs to you as Namjoon starts to drive that you don’t actually know where he’s taking you, but when you open your mouth to ask at the next red light, he leans over you to fumble open the glovebox and you lose your train of thought. He fishes inside for a few seconds before retrieving a CD case, then makes quick work of prying it open and sliding the disc into the slot on the dash. You attempt to hide your giggle behind the rim of your cup.

“No wonder you like ‘90s music so much. You’re still living there,” you say, nodding to his antiquated stereo, and he smirks as he turns up the volume. 

“This is A Tribe Called Quest,” he remarks, quirking an eyebrow when he looks back at you. “You better show some respect.”

“Yes, sir,” you tease in response, and you don’t miss the color that flushes his cheeks.

The light turns green and he accelerates through the intersection, one hand on the steering wheel, the other reaching across the center console to grip playfully at your leg, a few inches above your knee. You can see his tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, like he’s considering saying something, but when he finally opens his mouth, it’s just to rap along to the music.

It’s only a few songs later that he’s turning off the main road and following a barely-lit gravel path up to a large grassy parking lot, where he pulls into a space and kills the engine. You squint through the windshield, tucking your now-empty drink into the cupholder, but you can’t make out much except dusk and some vague lights over a hill in the distance.

“Was this crush thing just a ploy to murder me?” you quip, and Namjoon looks a little nervous when you glance over, like he took the question to heart. “I’m kidding,” you clarify quickly.

His voice comes out surprisingly soft. “This is one of my favorite things to do during the holidays. Thought it might help with, you know. The magic.”

Something cracks open inside you as you look back at him. “That’s… really sweet.”

“Ah,” he says, as if to dismiss the compliment. “You haven’t seen it yet. Maybe you’ll hate it. Come on.”

The two of you climb out of his car to start your trek to whatever he has in store, heading in the direction of the lights, and Namjoon’s hand slips into yours, like it’s already second nature. Easy and sweet. You grip tight to him, the night air colder now than it was when you left work, but then you finally crest over the hill, and the temperature is suddenly the furthest thing from your mind.

It takes you a moment to even understand what you’re looking at. The place is clearly some kind of arboretum, as the path ahead of you snakes through a perfectly manicured garden of various plants, but the only thing you can focus on are the lights. Every tree, bush, shrub, and other kind of greenery that lines the walkway has been intricately strung up with lights, each one boasting a different hue. The end result is nothing short of dazzling— a veritable rainbow of light and life and color, glittering diamond-bright against the deep-set night around you.

“Namjoon,” you breathe. “This is beautiful.”

There’s a dimple flickering at the corner of his mouth when you look up at him. “Thought you might like it.”

“I can’t believe I never knew this was here,” you remark, your eyes wide and blinking as you try to take it all in.

“Hey,” he answers with a shrug. “Maybe your hometown still has a few good surprises left in it.” You exhale a laugh as you lean into his side and he squeezes your joined hands; you can’t help feeling like you’ve already found the greatest surprise of them all.

After an hour spent wandering through the displays, each one more breathtaking than the last, Namjoon diverts you toward a small food stand. He comes away from the counter with a paper carton filled to the brim with long ropes of twisted, fried dough, warm enough to release steam into the air when you tear one apart to share, and dusted with cinnamon sugar that sticks to your fingertips.

The two of you take a few steps back down the path until you’re under an archway of glowing golden lights, then eventually come to a standstill, too hungry to do anything except devour your food.

Namjoon speaks first, mid-chew. “Can I ask you a question?”

“What’s up?” you answer as you reach for another piece.

He swallows, swiping the back of his hand over his mouth before he continues. “At your interview, you said your life fell apart. What happened?”

“Oh.” You smirk as you rip the braided dough in two, then in two again, before popping it into your mouth. “It seems a little silly now, but. I got fired from that last job, like I told you. And the same day, my roommate pretty much kicked me out of the apartment, because he wanted his boyfriend to move in. He was also my best friend, so. It stung a little. A lot. Moving back in with your parents at this age is humbling, to say the least. Feels a lot like starting over.”

Namjoon hums, like he understands. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

“Eh,” you respond noncommittally. “I should probably be happy for him. The timing just… wasn’t amazing.”

“You know,” he murmurs, thoughtful. “I thought my life was over when my ex and I got pregnant. Not even eighteen and about to be a dad. I really felt like… I don’t know, like that was it for me.” You nod slowly, unable to even fathom what that must’ve been like.

“But, here I am. Still alive.” Namjoon flashes you a grin, and you find yourself smiling back. “Still figuring it out. I actually feel like I’ve learned a lot from watching Sol grow up. They’re like—” He shakes his head, as if at a momentary loss for words. “They’re like a different person every month, I swear. What they’re into, how they dress. Who they wanna be. It makes me feel, I don’t know. Like it’s okay. Like I can change too.” He shrugs. “That’s the thing about life. It’s long. And even when you feel like it’s ended… it keeps going anyway.”

His words wash over you, and you’re so in awe that you can’t help but laugh.

“Ah, sorry.” He grimaces, suddenly self-conscious. “I know that was corny.”

“No, no,” you interject, trying to keep your composure. “I just think you are like, literally the wisest person I’ve ever met.”

The lights glimmering overhead aren’t enough to hide the way Namjoon blushes at the compliment, and then he pauses, as if recalling something. “Didn’t I nearly run the blender with the lid off on your first day?”

You double-over at the memory, and he’s laughing now, too. “Okay, okay. Fair point.” 

The thought keeps circling around in your brain as you dust cinnamon sugar from each other’s jackets and continue your way around the rest of the gardens, occasionally pausing to trade sticky-sweet kisses in the twinkling glow: you don’t want the night to end. You keep glancing over at Namjoon, wondering if he’s feeling the same way as he drives you back into town, the heat in his car on full blast, the CD player still underscoring your conversation.

“So, what do your Christmas plans look like?” he asks, eyes flitting briefly from the road to meet your gaze.

You fiddle with a button on your coat, wishing you had a less depressing answer. “I was just gonna spend it by myself. My parents already had a vacation in Hawaii planned, so I’m gonna do what I always do: hole up with booze and snacks and wait for it all to be over.”

He chuckles, tapping his fingertips absentmindedly against the steering wheel. “Well, I have about a hundred presents to wrap tomorrow night while Sol’s at their mom’s. Why don’t you come over and help? I can even provide the booze.” There’s a pause, and his voice comes back softer before you can respond. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

The corner of your mouth tugs up at his sincerity, the way he gently cares for you, has since day one. “Yeah, okay. I mean, you had me at free alcohol.”

Just like that, Namjoon is already turning back into the Indigo parking lot, where your car sits waiting for you. The two of you shrug off your seatbelts once he’s pulled into a space and parked, and he reaches to turn down the music before shifting in his seat to get a better look at you.

“So,” he starts, clearing his throat a little. “You are officially no longer my employee.”

“And you are no longer my boss,” you answer back, and a thrill buzzes in your chest at the statement.

“Which means,” he continues, doing his best to lean over the center console, “I can do this.” He barely finishes getting the words out before his mouth is on yours, your eyes fluttering closed, his kisses far less chaste than the ones you shared earlier. They’re open-mouthed and urgent this time, with Namjoon slipping his tongue into the heat of your mouth like he’s been waiting all night for it.

“Uh-huh,” you murmur between kisses, and then he dips his head lower, until his lips find the join of your neck and shoulder.

“And this,” he purrs before kissing you just as hungrily there, tongue-first. You can’t hold back the soft noise his mouth pulls out of you.

“Fuck,” you breathe as he sucks gently over the same spot, with just enough pressure to make you writhe in your seat. A shiver rolls up your spine when he hums against your skin, clearly pleased at your reaction.

“And, uh…” You slowly blink your eyes open when you feel the warmth of his breath dissipate, and he’s looking at you with his brow furrowed, as if attempting some difficult mental math. “Actually—” He reaches down for the lever to adjust his seat, and it drops all the way back with a graceless thud that makes a laugh flutter out of you. “Maybe you could take your jacket off and come over here?”

You don’t need him to ask you twice, and you’re moving quickly as you peel out of the thick material and scramble across the console to straddle him. You both groan a little when you duck down to press your mouth to his again, all of this suddenly feeling much more real now that you’re basically horizontal. His hands alight on your hips, tentative, like he isn’t quite sure what to do with them, and you smile against his lips.

“Touch me, Joon,” you instruct, and he does as he’s told.

His hands are warm as he slips them beneath the hem of your shirt, trailing over your skin until he reaches the band of your bra. When you hum encouragingly into his mouth, he keeps going, pushing the fabric up your chest so your tits spill free from their confinement. He cups one in each hand, and though you might’ve expected him to be clumsy or rough, given everything you’ve seen of him thus far, you’re surprised to instead find that he’s gentle, thumbs circling your nipples with just the right amount of pressure to tighten them into stiff peaks.

Unable to bite back your whimper at the heat that blossoms through you at his touch, at how much more of him you need, you pull away just enough to break your kiss, glancing up through the back window of his car to confirm the parking lot is still empty.

Namjoon groans low in his throat when you reach down to tug up the hem of your shirt, shifting a little on top of him to give him better access. He doesn’t hesitate, thumb still working at one nipple while he takes the other into his mouth, and your sigh of relief comes edged with a soft moan when he swirls his tongue over the bud of your breast.

“Shit,” you gasp. “Feels so fucking good.”

He pulls off with a wet pop to switch sides, and the slick heat of his mouth sends bolt after bolt of arousal through you until there’s a dull ache of need thudding between your legs. As you roll your hips in desperate search of friction, you can feel him beneath you, straining hard against the fabric of his jeans.

Namjoon pulls his mouth off your breast, letting out a hoarse laugh when you shift to drop your forehead against his collarbone with a groan, horny enough to practically be delirious. “I hate that I’m even saying this,” he rasps, “but I really can’t have sex in a car. I’m too—”

“Big?” you offer, and there’s a smile on his lips as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“I was going to say old.”

You can’t help giggling as you lean up to find his mouth with yours again. Namjoon kisses you a little while longer, lazily, his hands still kneading gently at your tits, until he finally tips his head back, heaving a sigh up to the roof of his car. “Okay, okay. You should go.” His tone is reluctant, like it’s the last thing he wants. “It’s late. And my jeans fucking hurt.”

There’s a self-satisfied smirk toying at your mouth as you sit up, tugging your bra and shirt back into place and not missing the bulge in Namjoon’s pants where your hips meet his. “I will take the blame for that one.”

He folds his hands behind his head, biceps and dimples on full display. “Damn straight.”

You lean down for one more kiss, letting it linger before you make your way back over the center console to retrieve your jacket. “Have a good night, Joon,” you murmur as you reach for the door handle, and when you glance back, his eyes are fixed on you, still heavy-lidded with lust.

“Get home safe. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I have booze, as promised.” Namjoon’s voice echoes in from the kitchen as you kick off your boots and hang your coat up at his front door come Christmas Eve. The aroma hits your nose as your socked feet pad down the hall to follow him: the spice of cinnamon and clove, paired with a hint of citrus. It smells like the holidays, like home.

“Mulled wine?” you wager a guess, and he nods, turning away from the stove to retrieve two mugs from a cabinet.

“I halved the recipe, since it’s just us,” he explains, mouth pulling down at the corners as he starts to ladle out servings from the pot full of deep red liquid. “Still made a lot, though.”

Your eyes drift across the kitchen until they land on the two empty bottles of red sitting next to the sink, and that makes you pause for a moment to consider. “So the original recipe called for four bottles?”

Namjoon’s brow is furrowed when he glances up, and then he follows your gaze, and a look of delayed understanding washes over him. “Oh, fuck.”

Your elbows dig into the kitchen island as you press your hands to your mouth, as if to physically hold in your laughter. “Did you… halve everything in the recipe except the wine?”

His eyes drop closed as he nods, his answer a resigned sigh. “Yeah. Yes, I did.”

You can’t help yourself: all at once, you’re circling around to join Namjoon behind the stove, so you can take his face in your hands and pull his mouth down to yours. He makes a soft noise of surprise, but then his lips fall into rhythm, kissing you hard enough to knock the air out of your lungs. Even through the fabric of your shirt, his large hands are warm when they slide over the small of your back, and then they keep going, until you finally break the kiss with another laugh when he reaches his final target and outright grabs your ass.

“Not the reaction I anticipated,” Namjoon admits, paired with a teasing squeeze. “But I’ll take it.”

You look up at him through your lashes, pressing your palms flat to the firm plane of his chest. “A very wise friend of mine once told me that the holidays aren’t about every little thing going perfect. I thought maybe you needed a reminder.”

His dimples deepen as his eyes search yours, and his voice is lower in his throat when he responds. “I think that fool was just sayin’ words because a pretty girl asked him a question.”

Heat flushes your face as you smile back. “Well, they were very good words.” You drop your gaze to the pot on the stove. “Come on, I bet we can salvage this.”

Determined to save Christmas, you throw in another handful of spices, chased with a few glugs from a bottle of orange juice Namjoon heroically digs out of the back of the fridge. After a few more minutes of simmering, you take a tentative sip of the mixture to find it perfectly adequate.

“I guess we just have to drink twice as much now,” Namjoon quips, filling up two fresh mugs with the remedied wine. You raise an eyebrow back at him, as if to accept the challenge, while you tap your drinks together in a cheers.

By the time you realize that a double-batch of mulled wine and gift-wrapping don’t exactly go together, it’s already too late. The booze makes Namjoon’s big hands go even clumsier, the few presents he attempts an absolute disaster, and you can’t stop laughing long enough to be of any help. At one point he reaches up to cup your jaw for a kiss, but completely misjudges the distance, deftly knocking into his half-drunk mug and spilling the contents all over a tube of wrapping paper and the crotch of your jeans.

You dissolve into giggles until you can scarcely breathe, scooting your chair a few inches back from the table as he jumps up to grab something to soak up the mess. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” you manage to gasp when he returns, immediately focused on cleaning you up first. You wave him away as you get to your feet. “Seriously, it’s not that bad, it’s mostly the table.”

“Jesus,” Namjoon groans as he drops the kitchen towels in his hands onto the wooden surface, doing his best to soak up the puddle, though there’s no saving the ruined gift-wrap.

“It’s not a big deal,” you murmur as he turns back, once again examining the extent of the damage done to your clothes. A shiver rolls through you as his thumb brushes over the waistband of your jeans, and he grimaces a little.

“This is probably gonna stain.”

“I mean…” Your pulse starts to quicken as his fingertips linger where they are, and Namjoon’s gaze flits up to meet yours when you speak, clearly hearing a shift in your tone of voice. “I could just… take them off.”

A smile teases at the corner of your mouth when his eyes widen. “Yeah,” he breathes, then seems to self-correct. “I mean, uh. If-if that’s something you would feel comfortable doing.”

You’re already reaching to undo the button, and then Namjoon takes over to tug open the zipper and push the fabric down your legs, and your nipples tighten beneath your bra at the reminder of how gentle his large hands can be. His lips find yours again and you don’t hesitate to lick into his mouth, jostling slightly as you try to make out with him and kick your pants the rest of the way off at the same time. It’s graceless, but you manage to make it work, and then he pulls away from you to glance back down.

“It looks like a little got on your shirt, too.”

He’s right, you realize: there are faint purple marks splattered just above the hem of your long-sleeve, and you smirk as you look up at him.

“If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you did this on purpose,” you tease, and then in one swift move you pull your shirt over your head, letting it drop to the kitchen floor next to your discarded jeans.

Namjoon’s hands are instantly on your bare skin, trailing heat as they trace the curve from your hip to your waist, and your breath hitches as he ducks down to brush his lips over your collarbone. The low tone of his voice reverberates through you when he speaks against your skin. “I like to think I could’ve gotten you naked tonight even without being an accident-prone idiot.”

You run a hand along the line of his jaw, tipping his head up to seek a kiss, before leaning back to murmur, “I guess we’ll never know.”

He kisses you again, and the two of you stumble across the threshold into the living room, pausing along the way to peel off his sweater and then his jeans, laughing into each other’s mouths, just drunk enough to lack any semblance of coordination you might have otherwise had.

When you drop down to lay back on his sofa, you’re both stripped to your underwear, and you can feel the thick bulge of him, pressing firm-heavy heat into your thigh as he settles his hips between your spread legs.

Namjoon’s eyes roam over your body beneath him, and then he’s tugging the lace of your panties to the side to slip a finger into your drenched center, beckoning it up to rub you just right. Your mouth drops open as he traces slow circles against your front wall, and when he adds a second digit, you can’t help but whimper softly at the stretch. It thrums through you like your lingering red wine buzz, hot and thick and good enough to get lost in, your head dropping back on the couch cushions as your hips rock up into his touch.

“Goddamn,” Namjoon groans, and your eyes flutter open again to take him in, his gaze heavy-lidded as he watches his fingers disappear up into you, coaxing slick sounds out with each pump of his hand. “I had a whole plan,” he rasps. “To take my time. But, fuck, I really want to fuck you.”

“It’s okay, Joon,” you breathe, not sure how much longer you could stand the torturous feeling of his clothed cock grinding into your thigh, so close to where you want him. An ache throbs in your cunt, needy, plugged up with two fingers but still begging for more. “Just fuck me.”

Realization flashes over his face, and then he suddenly heaves a sigh, looking defeated. You have to bite back a noise at the loss as he withdraws his fingers. “I— there’s an obvious joke here, but. I don’t have any condoms. Or if I do, they’re definitely expired.”

It takes you a second to process the revelation, and then you reach up to pull him down to you, smiling when he hums surprise into your mouth at the unexpected response. Your lips linger on his, and then you tip your head to press a kiss to the slope of his neck, not quite able to maintain eye contact as you murmur, “I mean. I’m on the pill, and I’m clean. So.”

“Yeah?” he replies, and your nose bumps against his shoulder as you nod. “Me too. Well, I-I’m clean, I mean. I’m not on the pill.”

You can’t help the giggle that slips out as you look up at him. “Right, no, I get it.”

“Sorry,” Namjoon huffs a laugh in return, his face flushing a little. “I talk a lot, when I’m nervous.”

“I just thought it was an all-the-time thing,” you admit, and the color in his cheeks deepens.

“I’m just always nervous around you.”

Your mouth seeks his out for a kiss sweeter than the last, slower for his shy honesty and the hummingbird thrum of your heartbeat behind your ribs. The heat of his breath ghosts over your lips when you tip back to answer, “You don’t have to be.”

“So, you’re okay?” he asks, almost reverent with his question. “If we—if I don’t—”

“Please,” you insist, and it’s all the encouragement he needs.

With remarkably little fumbling, he drags the lace of your panties down your legs, letting you kick them the rest of the way off while he moves up to unclasp your bra. You slip the straps off your shoulders and drop it over the edge of the couch, then watch as he shifts to strip out of his boxers, freeing his cock with enough force that it smacks against his abdomen with a hefty thud.

You swallow hard as you take him in: long and thick, flushed dark. Big, and fuck, you want all of him; you can feel how drenched you already are between your legs at the thought of all that cock filling you up.

When you tear your gaze away to meet his, Namjoon is staring at you just as hungrily, and he brings a hand to pump himself a few times, to coat his shaft in the wetness that’s started to drool from the head of his dick.

“Come here,” he grunts, his voice rough-edged, and you waste no time straddling yourself over his hips.

Given his considerable size, you figured it might take you a second to adjust, but you want him so bad, the feeling of his cock stretching you open is all white-hot pleasure. Your fingertips dig into his shoulders as you slowly lower yourself down on him, inch by overwhelming inch, until your ass is flush with thighs.

Namjoon’s head drops back against the couch as you slowly grind your hips into him, his hands gripping at your waist to guide the movement. You can’t help the soft sound that flutters out of you: he just looks so good like this, white-blonde hair swept off his forehead, beads of sweat trailing down his temples and glistening at his collarbones, his parted lips full and kiss-bitten.

“Baby,” he groans as you start to move a little more intentionally. “Fuck, I’m not gonna last long. Tell me what to do.”

“Touch me,” you breathe, and you close a hand over one of his, guiding him down to your clit. 

Just like the night before in his car, his touch is so gentle when he begins to trace circles into the sensitive nub with his thumb. You can feel the slow-hum build of an orgasm in your core, drawn up by the steady rub of his hand, and you lean back to allow him better access, bracing yourself on his thighs as you rock along his length.

A moan rips through you as the new angle drags the head of his dick just right against your front wall, and it’s good enough to make your eyes roll back. Chasing the feeling, you shove your hips down harder, driving his cock into that spot over and over until your thighs have started to tremble.

“That’s it,” Namjoon grunts encouragingly, his voice husky. “Use me, baby. Look so good when you bounce on my cock like that.”

The words set every last one of your nerve endings alight, and you dig your nails into his skin as your spine arches from the pleasure. His thumb is still working steadily at your clit, and the heavy stretch of his cock has you so wet, you can feel arousal starting to leak down your thighs. Your pussy clings to him like a vice, a throbbing-tight heat, taking him to the hilt every time.

“Oh my god, Joon,” you groan, “I’m gonna come.”

His touch doesn’t let up, and you can feel yourself teetering right on the precipice of it, only able to manage little gasps as you drop yourself down onto his cock again and again and again, with enough force that there’s an audible sound of your skin slapping against his.

Your legs are outright shaking from the effort now, from how close you are, and then Namjoon ducks his head, using his free hand to guide your tit into his mouth. The swirl of his tongue laved across the tight bud of your nipple is just what you need to push you over the edge.

With a moan that’s more like a sob, you drop forward against Namjoon’s chest, sinking all the way down to bury him in your pulsing cunt as you come. He continues to rub you through the waves of your orgasm, breathing ragged in your ear while your pussy gushes around him, until you grab his wrist with a soft whimper of overstimulation, and he relents.

Too gone to get any words out, all you can do is take his face in your hands and kiss him. He rolls his tongue over yours, decadent, as his palms slip down to cup your ass. You groan a little into his mouth when he begins to shift you, your cunt still fluttering-sensitive at every little motion, but he manages to maneuver you onto your back while still keeping himself sheathed in you.

His hands move to your thighs, encouraging your legs to hook over his hips, and his mouth trails kisses down the valley between your breasts before he breathes against your skin, “Can I keep going?”

“Please,” you murmur, and it’s chased with a moan when he starts to rock his hips into you. You feel so full, so swollen from your climax that it’s like your walls were molded to take him, the crown of his cock stroking deep-deep over the place that lights you up inside, shooting sparks of pleasure all the way down to your toes.

Namjoon’s breath stutters on a laugh. “Shit, I’m already close.”

You tilt up to brush your lips against his, humming encouragingly into his mouth, and then he pulls back again, one dimple teasing at the corner of his smile. “God, I— wanna hear you say it.”

Somehow, you know exactly what he means. “Come in me, Joon,” you beg, fucked so good that you’re shameless for it, and you gasp when he bottoms out in you with his next thrust. “Fill me up. Fuck me full of your cum, baby, please.”

It’s like the words send him into overdrive, and he practically growls as he starts to fuck his cock into you forcefully, hard enough to make your tits bounce. Each snap of his hips punches a heady groan from your lungs, and you reach up to drag your nails across the skin of his back as he chases his own end.

“Gonna fucking— give it to you,” he hisses, rolling his hips one, two, three more times, and then you feel his cock twitching, shoved in as deep as you can take him. He heaves a final strangled groan as he comes, rope after rope of his release pumping into you to paint your walls, until you can feel it beginning to spill back down your thighs.

You kiss through the comedown, inhaling shaky breaths into each other’s mouths, your bodies still fitted together like puzzle pieces, sweat starting to cool in the places where skin is pressed to skin. Namjoon finally moves first, giving a grunt of effort as he rolls off the couch, and you throw an arm over your face while the world slowly settles into focus around you.

When he returns, it’s with a towel in hand, and you can’t help smiling as he cleans you up, trailing soft kisses along your collarbone in tandem.

His voice is soft, too, when he finally speaks. “Will you stay here tonight?”

You prop yourself up on your forearms to look at him, and a little glimmer of something lights up in your chest that you can’t ignore. The first spark of an ember, just enough to reignite a flame you’d long since believed to be entirely extinguished. But now he’s shown you: it doesn’t have to be. You don’t have to be alone.

“Of course. We still have presents to wrap,” you say simply, and he huffs a laugh as he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Joon?” you murmur into the crook of his neck, unable to keep your voice entirely steady.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” you breathe. “For the magic.”

[shantalangel]

Since new canon information is here, I decided to make a list of all non-human and semi-human species of creatures that are currently present in Trigun Stampede. There are surprisingly many of them here; much more than in manga! Which is very intriguing, because it will certainly create new story arcs.

1) I called it Proto-Angel for clarity; on the art it is simply named "Plant". The mummy of a certain humanoid alien, which humans found during excavations on Earth – before Gunsmoke. For a long time they could not understand who it was and whose flesh it was, then they decided to resurrect it, but succeeded only by mixing it's DNA with human DNA.

2) And thus Plants were created. One of the first experimental ones had the same type of power as Vash - the opposite of most Plants, sucking energy from the surrounding world rather than producing it, - and with its help destroyed the laboratory of the creators (maybe it was Tesla? It’s not for nothing that her and Vash’s files on the ship were in the same folder). Most Plants are clones of each other. A small percentage are born by breeding (both subtypes with each other).

For convenience or some specific purposes, two types of Plants were created:

- Dependent: female humanoids living in water or some liquid (since the concept art of Rem is shown on the same slide with them, I now wonder if it was her DNA that was used...), playing the role of a bioprinter, energy source and gravity generator, but unable to live without connections to certain equipment (as far as I remember, they need some kind of artificial regulation of the energy supply)

- Independent: ground-based and autonomous, wielding bio-weapons of enormous power (maybe everyone has them or only specific individuals. In manga, according to Nai, Tesla did not have weapon, but in both manga and anime her hand was held in a separate capsule, while Independent’ weapons are generated from the hand). And capable of merging both with Independent and Dependent; if that one being is not stronger than the other and their consciousnesses do not conflict. Both sexes; I think the Proto-Angel was asexual, and the sex of Plant is determined by female and male human genes - this would explain why in the first subtype there are only women, while in the second are both.

3) Conrad decided to create modified humans who would find it easier to survive on Gunsmoke. How exactly he wanted to do it is unclear - given that Plants may have many of their unique characteristic because their body always connected to an alternative dimension through the Gate; where is their energy source and their mind lives in the form of the Core. Conrad began to somehow crossbreed humans with Plants. So, it’s already the formula of triple hybrid: (Proto-Angel + human DNA) + human.

The result was Nicholas, Livio, Monev (Rollo), E.G. Mine (the guy in bandages from 3 episodes); other test subjects did not survive. How far this four are from humans and how closer to Plants, with what and how they were modified, is still unclear. Can they do something superhuman like Elendira in the next experiment with hybrids is also a very intriguing question. But at least the healing blue liquid has the same glow as Plants.

4) But the first experiments didn’t turn human into Independent Plant, so Conrad started others. Judging by his words from episode 10, he began to genetically modify not children, but human embryos, resulting in Elendira. In the context of this process cloning and Nai’s help are mentioned, but who is whose clone and a genetic relative is not yet clear. Based on Elendira's apparently implanted eye, maybe this time humans were transplanted with Plant's entire organ - like in the old anime Vash's arm was transplanted to Legato and from it he received all his abilities, - and such a hybrid became closer to the Independents than to humans (including bio-weapons). Or that was some kind of attempt to create a human embryo through a sisters’ “bioprinter”: that is, they seem to be human, but at the same time human genes are Plant cells converted into them.

What is the fundamental difference between such hybrids from №4 and №5, the Independents and Nai’s future biological children is not yet clear to me. Perhaps new hybrids are weaker in terms of abilities, although they also have bio-weapons (Elendira’s nails). Whether hybrids can grow together into a single being and whether they have Cores in another dimension is a very interesting question.

5) In the same room with Elendira are several capsules with other newborn cubs of indeterminate gender, similar in appearance to little sisters, but with strange fur or feathers on their arms and legs. After the art below, I had a guess that these are the pilots of Gray 9 Lives.

Gray in this anime is a giant robot the size of a mountain, inside of which are spheres with control devices and certain creatures connected to them, whom are literally built into it without the possibility of escape. On the art below, the pilots clearly resemble these babies because they have Plant's petal appendages on their heads.

And here, in the center of a small city, apparently lies the same sphere, around which people built a fence and carefully covered it with a tent. The light inside is exactly the same as Plants’ one.

In other concept art, though, the pilots look completely different and completely mysterious, because they are not even close to any of the creatures on this long list. These are not humans, and not Plants, and probably not even mutants (although in manga there were also very strange creatures - the golem servant of Legato, the original Gray and one mercenary with a face of the undead and big tusks from his chin). What is this even, who was it born from?!

6) Nai and sisters’ biological children. How they might differ from other Plants, and hybrids from №4, and why he even needed this whole “ritual”, I have no idea.

7) And, finally, Legato - he is a separate interesting person.

Manga: a completely inhuman long narrow tongue, the ability to control the flesh (but not the mind) and the processes of many living organisms at the same time (including animals and dying - cut in half Nai after July), as well as in his own body (judging by the battle with Vash in at the end of the manga, he could even heal himself, or at least improve body characteristics), and even resurrect the dead (the head of the maniac who kept him in slavery; the murdered Elendira). I very much doubt that an ordinary human would have any possibility to do this, even with some special gadget with wires. Legato's connection is essentially a weaker version of the Plants' merge. Not to mention control over Nai (in the fortress, when he was a slave - did not allow to kill himself with other people) and Vash, whom he restrained for 7 months in a row. Plus, in one art, Legato has huge black claws on his hand.

Old anime: Vash's arm was transplanted to him, and he received all his abilities from it. It’s just gorgeous when Plants just merge with humans like that, even without consequences. 

New anime: beside controlling others gained new ability - to crush giant parts of mechanisms like tin cans, on a very big distance. Also, as far as I remember, only in Stampede his hands are completely covered with gloves.

His child concept art, in addition to another version of the gadget, has some interesting device on those eye that is always covered with bangs.

Another interesting art, where he is holding some kind of complex automaton. Apparently, an analogue of those controlled by Leonoff.

[longjackofficial]

Rekindle Your Sex Life with LongJack

[zeevoidlight]

Why didn't he protected them

Is actually difficult for me to discern because Vegeta and Bulma went from getting close to each other and starting to trust each other enough to be intimate, even if it was just for the sex, to Vegeta not caring if she and baby Trunks died at all, and Bulma being very distant from Vegeta while still being in a relationship. And I don't believe the thing some say that he didn't actually cared for her or didn't actually noticed her in a deeper way until much later (basically the idea that Vegeta was just Trunks sperm donor and only was with Bulma for the sex), nah. diss's moch complcated, i swear (nah not really, I just want an excuse to talk more about my obsession). (Note that I watched the latin version so my interpretation of the characters and context might be different from the English version).

I'll talk about these event and about saiyan culture regarding babies, Vegeta and Bulma's relationship during the Cell saga, and how Vegeta might have felt towards Baby Trunks and Future Trunks.

//////////

Saiyans, family and culture

The popular idea is that yes, he was a major jerk by letting Bulma and Baby Trunks almost die at the start of the Android saga, and yeah, he actually was. But one thing that people often forget is that he is not human, he is a saiyan, and that kind of behavior wasn't that abnormal for his culture/species. Is actually expected.

I mean, Saiyan's used to send their babies (the weak ones) in capsules to other planets to pop out of the ship, project an artificial moon into the sky and start making havoc for months until everyone was dead. If the baby survives they will later go to the planet for him eventually to claim the planet and sell it, and I guess later reintegrate the little saiyan into their society again. Like a rite of passage just to acquire the right to live, otherwise they just die unceremoniously.

Even Bardock was like that (pre retcon because i will use the saiyan lore of the era to explain something of the same time period of it's creation). While the others were like "hey! You got a baby kid! Aren't you going to go to planet Vegeta to check on him? How about a celebration or something", and Bardock is like "NO. Who would want to visit a low class soldier like that, I'm not r-[redacted]" (man... DBZ Bardock was a different animal entirely, i freaking loved him). (I have the theory that Raditz was actually in the lower end of high class soldiers. maybe will talk about it in another post).

Anyway, yeah, that's basically the way of thinking of saiyans. A little bit like Piccolo's tough love type of survival training with Gohan but even more savage and detached because if they died and it was their kid it was gonna suck really bad and hurt a lot their pride but what had to happen happened since they cannot get involved in those first years and cannot go save them, end of story, make another baby, maybe the next one will be stronger. They just had babies to send them off, and they have a blood relation with each other but they didn't had the concept of a family, not exactly, like humans would have, usually though, because once again the royal family did had those kinds of bonds to precisely preserve their lineage and secure their babies would born powerful above everyone else.

Of course we all know Bardock was still worried about Kakarott and he wanted to appear tougher with his teammates, he was worried the same way every other saiyan does it in a very distant manner to not get their feelings get in the way of their job as warriors (I mean, he did passed by the nursery in his hurry and stopped to check on Goku while he was there after all). Much like King Vegeta himself who said that he didn't care about what happened to his son, Vegeta, after some saiyan royal adviser (or knight, idk) asks him if it's true that he will have to give his son to Frieza because Vegeta was going to be real in danger if he did in the flashback in the Frieza saga. He wasn't going to say "yes i do feel terrible for my son and it hurts me deeply" even if he was absolutely devastated, he says that he doesn't care because he cannot appear weak, and because it was also true what he said about being more angered by how Frieza had them under his thumb, in that moment he was decided to confront Frieza so he couldn't let himself feel.

And later Vegeta himself said he didn't cared about his race or his father to Dodoria when he was revealing the truth about their planet's destruction while at the same time is true that he was angered about being lied to and about being kept in their control since childhood . The thing is Vegeta doesn't care about the actual people of his race but more about what they represent and are supposed to be, only those who are saiyan in blood and meaning are worthy of calling themselves saiyan, that's why he doesn't revive them but he does care deeply and is proud of it, just in another level. And regarding his father we know he was lying because every time he remembers him in the series he does it fondly and with a lot of pride, like when he's outright telling Goku to avenge their parents, or when remembering him to give himself confidence that he will be able to become Ssj. Is not like they don't "care", but they have to be intelligent about what to reveal so it cannot be taken against them later and to a degree convince themselves on getting detached from many things to keep their fighting instincts up front and take decisions with their heads cold whatever had to happen. Just like we hear him say all terrified in Namek when Krillin got impaled by Frieza "What an idot!...That's what happened to him for paying attention to that Namekuseijin! (Dende)", and then after Gohan looses his mind and knocks Frieza down momentarily Vegeta tells Gohan "Don't loose your time worrying about him! [Krillin]. Do you think Frieza was going to die with that?!". Is what they don't say and try to hide (as we see explicitly with Vegeta when confronting Frieza he purposefully hid the existence of Goku from him and lied, making Frieza believe that Vegeta himself was the only saiyan survivor left but in his thoughts we hear him say "and Kakarott...").

Vegeta's priorities

Same can be said of Vegeta with baby Trunks, i would believe. Their children are their legacy in a way after all, and like an extension of themselves and their own ego. But what made Vegeta forget the feelings and pride he might have had with Bulma and Trunks to not even being a thing that was important is literally everything else going on around him at the same time in those years. It was a very conflicting era for him in several fronts, specially related to his place in the world, his newfound freedom from Frieza's hand since he was a child, him getting used to a new life in another culture, another planet, other type of people, his love relationship, his place as a saiyan in relation to the other few of his species, his title as prince among the low class saiyans that had surpassed him by this point and not by little, his twice stolen destiny to be the the legendary super saiyan that now that he became one as well he had to demonstrate he was the better Ssj among them, the news of him getting killed in the near future in another timeline by just some rando earthling androids that somehow were stronger than Frieza and that the android he defeated (19) alongside the other one (Gero) weren't the right ones, he was really pissed about it and starting to get worried, they couldn't sense the androids by their chi (ki), it was becoming a mess, and he absolutely HAD to be the one that would kill all the androids all on his own to go back to his rightful place in the power scale. Is quite the heavy burden.

So, family? his son? Bulma? ultimately they were at the end of the list of his priorities. And that is very clear thorough this entire first part, even when he was officially in his relationship with Bulma.

Bulma

That's partially why Bulma was attracted to him in the first place though, because he was extremely determined in his ambitions, she respects that, and saw how deeply it was hurting him when he had that training accident and was subconsciously talking in his sleep. She was going to carry that responsibility for him so he could focus on himself. That's why she doesn't reclaim him anything or judges him on things related to that other than jokingly. She knew what she was getting into and has always known. Unfortunately she isn't that responsible of a person herself though. That's why she herself puts her own life and Baby Trunks life in danger, because she is just as determined and obstinate, and Vegeta knows that as well, that's why he doesn't "care", because he respects her decisions as well (and ultimately can't do much about it either). If she wants to put their own lives in danger because she thinks she's up to their game is her responsibility then, not his, and he cannot get involved because he has a job to do regarding himself and his own battles, he had to be detached. Also he was annoyed and fed up with Bulma's stubbornness since he already told her not to be a stupid and do stupid things like put herself in danger way before when Frieza went to Earth, and now she's doing it again (the first time he thought it was hot though (it was so funny that he looks back at her and then talks to himself all thoughtful like "Not only she's vulgar but she's aggressive/daring too", translation -> 'I might like this chick'), but this time is a not cute at all). I don't think it was something personal, not even the "[..] foolish woman and her blasted child" thing, like he says in the english dub, he had more important things he had to worry about. What he says to Trunks in the latin dub is "What stupidities are you saying. I don't care in the slightest, you idiot" (i wish I could have found the japanese one but it is what it is and is the closest I have to it) so he doesn't say mean things to Bulma or Trunks specifically. The interesting part here is to think if Vegeta was saying "I don't care" because he actually didn't care, or "I don't care" not because he didn't but because he couldn't. Vegeta is terrified of feeling and has always been. And yes, I say he was absolutely right because what saiyans try to avoid by giving too information and care is exactly what happened and Gero used her as a distraction, blasted the place and with it Bulma's ship and escaped thinking that they were going to be too busy saving her to notice where he ran to. Still a dick move but I cannot blame him too much. So yeah, it is very much in the tone of if Bulma thinks she can be in the middle of the battle field then so be it, if they survive they'll prove themselves not to be to useless after all, if they die it will suck but it had to be for being idiots.

Being a warrior

Vegeta is a warrior first and foremost. And him being a warrior is why later he is excited to see Cell's perfect form, just like Goku (being a pure blooded saiyan) he cannot contain himself from seeing what immense power looks like, and dares Future Trunks to attack him if Trunks had the balls to do it in order to stop him. Like "bro, are you really gonna to go against your pops? prove it. That's why Future Trunks cannot comprehend him, because Trunks is part earthling and cannot fathom someone getting excited about fighting for the sake of fighting itself and proving one's self where power is the only thing that matters. And why Vegeta cannot stand Future Trunks either, because F Trunks fights for justice and peace.

Baby Trunks

About Baby Trunks, we can only speculate of course but I would assume baby Trunks was conceived right after Vegeta became super saiyan (?) because later in the Buu saga kid Trunks was able to become Ssj without any effort just like Goten (who was definitely conceived during that week Goku was in Ssj the whole time), while present/future Gohan and Future Trunks had to get the transformation the OG hard way like their fathers. I guess future Trunks did accidentally change the time where he would be conceived in the present timeline by just a bit since we do see that Vegeta becomes Ssj in future timeline, probably after Goku dies (he was present with the others in Goku's house when he died and Bulma already had Baby Future Trunks with her) and before the androids appear in the future timeline as we see him transformed to fight, though that's still my speculation.

I think even though Trunks was still a baby maybe there was a way for Vegeta to sense his initial power level (? I'm just assuming some things here). And I don't remember exactly when did saiyan babies were packed and sent to planets to conquer them (maybe a few months old and expected to destroy the people in the planet in around 6 months from arrival having Goku and Earth as an example in the Bardock special) but Baby Trunks definitely doesn't look powerful or very strong regardless, not compared to Vegeta himself as a baby. And Vegeta knew that the mix between saiyans with earthlings produced a stronger breed but just look at this little guy, he looks more earthling than saiyan without much promises, might as well not have much saiyan blood in him, he didn't had his black/dark hair, he wasn't even born with a tail. And also was being treated... well like a baby but an earthling one.

He probably was conflicted about the whole baby thing, specially by how he was taught on his saiyan side despite being from the royal family (since the royal family is one of the few that can actually have familial ties similar to humans), and how being now on Earth his perfectly normal for a saiyan actions were taken from an earthling perspective as not being adequate, but he couldn't entertain the thought for too long since the androids were gonna kill everyone if the warning was true anyways.

Vegeta didn't really considered Baby Trunks to be someone he should put any attention to. Although deep down he cared to a degree as in being an extension of his pride and how Trunks was ultimately "representing him" as his son. How that affected his relationship with Bulma too in this time period is important. Like, he seems angry that Bulma tells him that his presence made Trunks cry after his fight 19, and that is quite mean for her to say that to him, but he can't reply anything to her and just tch's and looks away all annoyed but doesn't say anything or fights her on it, so i can imagine he was feeling conflicted about how to act or respond on top of everything that he had to think about.

Pride on Future Trunks and school of hard knocks

Only when he discovered that the mysterious badass warrior from the future was his own son, the one that he was dismissing, then he started to quietly and secretly take pride on who he would become and started to pay attention to both F Trunks (in his own saiyan way) and much later to Baby Trunks because babies are not viewed as important in saiyan culture, still focusing on the battle first. Much like Bardock when he started to have his visions of Goku right at the very end of his life he started to view grown up F Trunks as more of an equal rather than competition, and seeing him grown up made it easier for him to bond. And so Vegs is like ".... Fuck yeah".

"Look at my son, Cell. He's not as cool as me but he's damn close" lol

He of course was also very prideful and wouldn't bother with any family related stuff the way Bulma (and F Trunks) were pressuring him to be, and she kinda was ridiculing him about it (jokingly though, never seriously) just to evidence him and kinda "hit him over the head" for his behavior. And his natural reaction is of course to appear tough in front of everyone else, like Bardock, like King Vegeta, and like his usual self, and throw all that family nonsense out the window. He still was very prideful and had to keep a face, but that is what would come bite him in the ass hard later on.

Trunks took the wrong way Vegeta's actions. He wasn't purposefully ignoring him, he didn't had time to bond or make him understand his methods, or teach him spelling everything out for him, at least the way he knew how to do it which is by the saiyan way, which was never going to work the way he remembered it because Trunks is half earthling, and that's something Goku also partially fumbled up with Gohan and his Rage form, but Vegeta was actually trying to teach Trunks the hard way. Vegeta was trying to actually come up with strategies, occupied on bringing solutions to the table that Trunks couldn't come up with for years in just the few days they had. Goku definitely knew it. Trunks is all "my dad has been on that rock for 3 days and he doesn't even look at me or train me" and Goku is like "shit! Vegeta is a Genius! He's trying to find a way to surpass the super saiyan", and Trunks can't understand what's happening while the two pure blood adult saiyans are talking. Like, remember the scene where F Trunks attacked Vegeta? Vegeta was actually trying to parent as a saiyan there, and feeling proud of Trunks before and after Trunks attacked him because he actually did it. He called him stupid and all but it was always accompanied with a lesson he wanted Trunks to learn, even if it was only to make him learn respect Vegeta's place as his father (and Trunks eventually came to respect him despite his shortcomings).

Vegeta and Bulma

Anyway... regarding Vegeta and Bulma though, I love how Vegeta talks to Bulma with such familiarity during the Cell saga (i just wished... the time skips didn't happen so quickly because it would have been excellent for character development outside of battle with small everyday stuff and hijinks...), and it does feel like he recognizes Bulma's intelligence and respects that aspect of her, he calls her by her name (which after 3 years I would hope he does but last time we just hear him call her "woman" so it was nice to hear him call her by her name), but then when Bulma starts to spit toxicity towards him or starts to act like she has her ego through the roof (which funnily enough is very similar to Vegeta himself when he feels confident and with his ego higher than the sky), he just looks like he's thinking "well you just can't find the off button, do you" (lol, it reminds me of home).

It actually reminds me a little bit of how Bulma and Yamcha's relationship was, on and off of Bulma being angry and with Yamcha and re-conciliating again, just this time is with Vegeta, but in Yamcha's relationship he was the one that just got all the (maybe undeserved) anger from Bulma and he didn't really had the balls to confront her because he's Yamcha and he's a nice guy but he doesn't have spice (like he used to as a bandit), while on the other hand with Vegeta is a constant battle for power in the relationship. They both act mean with each other, and even if it's not actually meant to seriously cause harm they can get get hurt and often do simply by the nature of how they relate to each other and communicate, with insults, sarcasm, back handed comments, ironic remarks, double meaning, either is to twist the knife where it hurts or even to be playful and flirt in a friendly manner, is almost never straight forward and i really can't picture them, specially Vegeta, saying that they love each other directly and explicitly but they don't have to. That's just how they are, is their game, because neither of them is willing to back out, they are both asses, though Vegeta is the one that normally does back out in the end in favor of keeping peace because he is the one that has more to loose even if it's by convenience and to keep his access to Capsule Corp and all the commodities at this point, and because he respects and admires Bulma too, he does love her in his own saiyan way and doesn't want to loose that bond he's made with her as the only other person he managed to trust and be open with (the other being Goku). (this scene is priceless and i just wanted to put it here. Is filler but i just don't care, it officially exists and is part of the collective that is DB and is good).

Bulma was ok with Vegeta not being present in their lives and only focusing on her baby, encouraging little Trunks in small ways to start developing some strength. She's always been her own woman after all, independent, confident, intelligent all on her own, always being in the middle of the conflicts since time immemorial to be part of the team too against whatever is menacing Earth. While at the same time is clear that Bulma is proud that her baby is Vegeta's because is a symbol of their deeper connection (and love if you will at this point), aaaaand because of the potential he has as a fighter and the status he gives her among the ones that know who Vegeta is (bragging rights, lol), and also brag about his perfect very cool and handsome son's genes. She was like "yeah Yayirobe, drop the child if you want, but be ware that that child is Vegeta's". (I swear that sometimes I wonder if Vegeta is the one in an abusive relationship full of toxicity, lol, the answer is they both are but flawed as it was it's what they both needed and what worked for them). (and i love this bit where Trunks falls to the ground trying to learn to walk and Bulma looks at him like "i'm not gonna do anything about it, get up on your own". Some of Vegeta is rubbing off on her, hehe).

Trunks was an accident?

About the baby, in a way Bulma and Vegeta, ever since they decided to engage sexually, were aware of the possibility of a child being born from both of them but had already accepted whatever outcome destiny had in it's plans regarding a possible offspring (when before Vegeta was very clearly against it for the fear of having a child that could be stronger than him to usurp his title and place). And to that i want to add that Trunks wasn't really planned by Vegeta in particular (I'm more sure that Bulma might have desired a baby from him after a certain point because she always fantasized with Goku once she saw him all grown up but "lost her chance" as she puts it, and now Vegeta represented another chance to have a badass baby), but that doesn't mean Trunks wasn't expected like many people believe (that Trunks was an accident). Vegeta had agreed with the consequences long before he knew they were pregnant, so no, i don't believe he was an accident as if they didn't thought having a baby wasn't going to eventually happen simply because they were having sex and a baby is to be an expected high chance result, but neither planned exactly. He just naturally happened and that was ok.

They are fine (Trunks is not fine)

Like, both Vegeta and Bulma seem actually pretty ok with the whole thing of being kinda distant kinda separate and on their own at that point while still being together as an official couple. Vegeta concentrating on his own things and not letting anything get in his way, being very saiyan about not letting himself feel (because otherwise his obvious parental instincts when Trunks gets killed and him later accepting his love for Bulma wouldn't make much sense if he actually didn't ultimately cared). Bulma seems pretty ok with putting herself and her child in danger while knowing she still has a job to do to help save the Earth just like Vegeta was doing in a way. Like, during the saga they are actually both working together, Vegeta asking her info on Dr Gero and her looking into her investigation about him in her memory, him asking if she brought the armors he requested for the z fighters and Bulma actually did made them and brought them with her. They are actually working together when it comes to the war against the androds and Vegeta is 100% concentratd on that and his issues while Bulma is enduring and helping as well, growing up from the brat she was into someone more mature but both still with things they need to work on.

The only one that cannot comprehend the dynamic here is Future Trunks. No one else feels it out of place or out of logic because it's Vegeta and it's Bulma. But like, Future Trunks gives too much credit to Vegeta for putting his Baby Trunks self in danger when it's very much Bulma's fault in this particular case. But that is because F Trunks made some high assumptions and probably fantasized with who his father might have been and was hit with the reality that he was not the way he imagined him, so he's putting a lot of expectations on Vegeta that when not met he gets angry but Vegeta is just like "dude i don't have time for this bs". And on the other hand Trunks also didn't knew how his mother was before she had to grow into someone more careful and responsible, so he cannot see his mother's faults because his love for her is blinding him from her wrong doings. (funny thing is that when she had the plane accident no one went to save Bulma either, lol). He has to learn to know his parents because he doesn't know them. Poor Trunks though XD.

////

Ultimately Vegeta changes his attitude during the end of the saga for the sake of both of them, and after having been smacked full force in the face with the realization that he did messed up in multiple ways during the saga after all, with the androids, with Cell, with Trunks too because of his cultural baggage. At the end he's much closer to Bulma and Baby Trunks, having accepted his role as father, not only the type of father Vegeta wanted to be but the father Trunks needed him to be, which still had a lot of room for improvement but it was a start, and he did changed quite a lot. Even caving in with some earthling behaviors for the better. Unnggh! is so beautiful!

[fortunesque]

WIP- Think of Me

It took me a while to find something from Think of Me that is interesting, but doesn't give out any major spoilers/reveals of what some characters are thinking.

Context: This is in the last few days of Reader's first Capsule Corp visit.

The drinks have done a lot to open him up; Raditz is leaning back in his seat, with his feet propped up on a chair across from him. His tail is draped over the side of the chair and lays on the floor.

Between his tail, lounging around, and crazy amount of hair, Raditz reminds Yamcha more of a lion, than anything.

It's so weird to him that Raditz gets treated like such a loser. He's a really cool dude, at least, in Yamcha's opinion. He's certain that a lot of people on Earth would find him cool, too.

Maybe, he's not cool out in space? That's not really fair, though.

Well, Raditz is more than welcome to chill with him anytime. He's a cool dude.

Raditz shrugs. "Look, it wasn't really complicated. Power level is lower? Shoot em. Power level is higher? Get the fuck out."

"Wait, so you'd run away?" Yamcha asks.

Raditz rolls his eyes.

"Of course," he says. "I'm not going to get fucked up by natives just because some rich asshole wants to build a resort planet. Fuck 'em."

He brings his fingers up to his mouth, then sighs in frustration and puts his hand down.

Yamcha's seen Bulma do the same thing when she's done one of her many attempts to stop smoking. He wonders what kind of invisible smoke Raditz is craving, right now.

It's absolutely wild to him that this is Goku's brother. They don't look a thing alike, for starters. Not only that, but Raditz cusses and talks shit like a thug.

It's surprising, though, that he doesn't talk about getting laid, or about what women are like out there in the galaxy. Raditz almost talks like he's a taken man.

Maybe he is, and he's just not aware of that, yet.

Yamcha thinks there's something more going on with you and Raditz. Realistically, though, a long distance relationship is hard to maintain.

He thinks it's a good thing, though. Bulma says Raditz seems to have perked up quite a bit. Good sex with a beautiful woman will do that, but—

Yamcha swears there's more to it. You two looked right together when you curled up on the couch in his lap.

He's going to see if he can get Raditz to talk about you more, then talk to Bulma about it.

He can't help but notice, too, that Raditz cusses way less around you and doesn't talk about anything too violent.

Yeah, Raditz is trying to leave a good impression by being polite with you.

Good. That's a very good start. It's how Yamcha started reforming.

He hopes that Raditz makes friends along the way. One woman can't bear all of that. Goodness knows Bulma couldn't. Little Goku was a godsend to keep Yamcha in line. Maybe, Yamcha should be Raditz' Goku?

Yikes. Those are massive shoes to fill.

Yamcha should probably call Krillin to come help.

He makes up his mind; he's going to ask Raditz if he wants to train with him. The guy has potential in all sorts of ways.

And, it's a way they can hang out. Because, Raditz is cool.

[heterophobicdyke]

I understand the argument that younger women should seek already founded women’s lands, therefore saving those on the brink of shutting down, before trying to “reinvent the wheel” but the reality is that there are often major value-differences between older radical feminists already on lands (some like a time capsule!) and younger ones. Political lesbianism is rife on women’s lands and that’s not something I feel is a matter of “agree to disagree.” It is blatantly homophobic. I was taught to respect my elders and I do but, in order for there to be equal power, young people need an equal voice. And facts should come before feelings and opinions, so “I don’t care if you’re a female homosexual and I’m not, we’re both lesbians” doesn’t cut it. You don’t get respect by virtue of your age, or else outdated shit we’ve moved past runs supreme. Naturally, that doesn’t suit many older people because it’s a fact that they’re more set in their ways and think they knew best in every situation. Nobody should ever discount the wonderful lessons older people can teach us—they do have wisdom younger people don’t yet—but that doesn’t mean they’re right about absolutely everything. Young people also bring with them a wealth of resources from being born in a different era - an era that, in many but not all areas, has learned BETTER ways of doing things than before. I don’t think second wave theorists and feminists should be the bible we take literally and fully, like fundamentalist Christians. We’re not as homophobic or racist today. We live in different times that call for different measures for women. With context, I don’t blame women in the 1970s for thinking “every woman can be a lesbian” was a great feminist strategy. But they should have listened to critique of that from literal female homosexuals and grown from it, rather than starting the sex wars and pushing real lesbians further into queer theory which betrayed them (even saying “anyone can be a lesbian” themselves, eventually) anyway. I think febfems, celibates and lesbians (of all ages) who are value-aligned in 2024 having their own communities and communes requires starting from scratch. And the opportunities are endless.

If radical feminism is the ocean and women’s lands are ships, it is not our responsibility to save sinking ships that we don’t want to board because we disagree with how it was built. We are allowed to build and captain our own ship.

[ahfucknuggets567]

You guys wanted it. So here's my post for how I view the og doom Syndicate.

Starting with everyone favorite skeletal pimp, Psycho Delic!

Psycho Delic/Freddie West was born in the poorest area of Metro City. He had one older brother named Calvin who he had but of a rocky relationship with Freddie being a bright eyed man conflicting with Calvin's pessimistic out view on life. Despite the terrible condition, Freddie found himself engaged in the world of science. Mostly of biology and chemistry.

It took all his mother and father's might along with Freddie doing jobs to get him into college. The parents never thought to ask Freddie what kind of jobs he was doing.

Freddie found himself secretly studying some of the drugs he dealt out. Especially the effects it has on people. It sometimes reminded him of how insects used pheromones to communicate and persuade other insects. Then it clicked for him.

One night in his apartment building, Freddie made two capsules and shaved off his own head. He dug those two capsules through his skull and into his brain. The capsules were designed to interlocked his brain systems to produce certain pheromones to insist positive responses from people. At first, it didn't seem to have worked because to the public, Freddie West had died of a drug overdose. His parents grieved for him while his brother was livid for what he had done to the family.

On the day of his funeral however, as the preacher was speaking, Freddie rose from the coffin in purple rotting skin. As he got up, Calvin ran up to him and punched him in the face. It caused a massive fight between the two brothers. As Freddie went back to the hospital, he realized how weak his "ability" was. Freddie had to dive in deeper.

He dropped out of college and became a full time drug dealer. This time dealing more extreme stuff like cocaine and heroin. All the while he was experimenting on himself to enhance his own pheromones. Which he turned pheromones into gas. This gas could now change on the dime to anything he wants. From hallucinations to death to a potent aphrodisiac. He could disappear at will. He became a living boogeyman. Freddie garnered himself a new name, Psycho Delic.

Of course drugs weren't the only thing he was interested in. Psycho was also well known in the club. He loved the music, the drugs, the alcohol, and well, the sex in the night. Psycho made himself bit of a pimp. Add some extra cash on the side to fund his little experiments. Psycho wasn't the only with his power. Though less powerful as his, the pimp made himself a little band with four of his goons: Ace, Spades, Clubs, and Uno. Along with a bit of help from a maestro from down the street. They made Psycho Delic and the Fumes.

With all of his dipping in new territory and the notoriety of such a man like him: the cops soon found out. While he had deposed of them, he had a much harder time with Metro City's golden boy, Metroman. Psycho Delic was finally locked up with a lifetime sentence in prison. Though in there, he found some fellow friends to help bust themselves out and to take down Metroman.

Other things to note:

A man so deep in the closet, he doesn't realize he's bisexual.(I am so sorry, men.)

He has an ant farm and has somehow named all of the ants in there.

The cane isn't just there for the aesthetics, dude actually needs it. It happened after he was revived from death. He still isn't quite sure what happened but his leading theory is that managed to a hit nerve system relating to his right leg that caused to not work right.

Fortunately for every single resident of Metro City, he is infertile. Doesn't even have anything to do with the drugs or his superpowers, he just is.

Btw Calvin ends up becoming a super hero/spy. His name? Agent Citrus.(I don't like Grimreeker as a name and Agent Orange is... yeah.)

Psycho may have Adhd. If he is not overstimulated, he will complain and make a fuss about it. He's also a night owl and has skipped breakfast one too many times.

Next up is Destruction Worker!!!

Clara Magucci or David Magucci in her younger years. She was born and only child and boy to her parents without any hands. Clara had some trouble in school as a double amputee but her parents managed to get her prosthetics for her. They lived very well as upper middle class. Her mother was very doting on her while her father was emotionally absent from her and her mother's life. Otherwise her life in school was fine she could guess. She ended up having an interest in construction and engineering and graduated a nearby college with a major in construction and a minor in engineering.

She ended up working under the company Vanderbolt Industries for a man named Arnold Vanderbolt. It was as horrible as you can get with a job like that. The pay was almost non existent and conditions were terrible and sometimes Clara wonder what the fuck was going on inside that man's head. Even as the supervisor for the construction crew, she was still paid very little. She could quit, find another construction company to work with. But that wasn't satisfying was it? There was a tiny piece of her mind that wanted to start stirring the pot. Maybe she did.

She gathered all her fellow coworkers to start unionizing. Practically everyone agreed and when it started, Arnold was furious. He did everything in the book and yet Clara and her union crew managed to work around it. It was a vicious cycle of cat and mouse where the bottom line was greed. Clara had enough of the game. Everything was going nowhere and the union was always back to square one. So one day, she took her engineering minor to good use and made herself some new hands.

She and her crew went back to the latest Arnold was protecting with his life and it's his life it would be. She made one final attempt at a deal and he immediately refused. Saying something about company's income or whatever. Oh well it was his lost. Clara revved up one of her new hands, one equiped with a saw and starting cut through the supports of the building. She warned her crew to stay back. Arnold was stuck on the upper floors of the building. As the last support beam was left, the unfinished build came crashing down. Clara and the union were left with little to no scratches with Vanderbolt dead on the concrete ground and a pole through his eye. Yet she didn't feel any remorse or guilt. Just satisfaction. She exclaimed her deed to Metro City as proud as one can be and got the sights of its hero.

Clara soon found herself a new job as the super villain, Destruction Worker. She visited the pound regularly with each attempt at destroying either Vanderbolt's or any other corrupted companies money and resources. She managed to escape many times though not as regularly as Megamind.

Eventually one day, the stars aligned to find her talking with the terror of Metro City, Psycho Delic. She, Psycho and the other three villains became the Doom Syndicate. Combining their plans together to take down Metro Man.

It was great to have someone at your side in both villainy and normalcy. It was with this time that as Clara got to know these people that she realized. She might not be a man.

After days and days of thinking and denial, she almost gave up villainy. She was still associated with the Doom Syndicate. She wouldn't trade for anything. Instead she hid in the shadows and became the team's repair woman. She was scared of what would happen if anyone knew what Destruction Worker became.

In the end though, the worker of destruction came back. After all, villains do have to stick with one another.

Other facts:

Trans Lesbian. One of the few things I really liked about the new show.

Clara's a grease monkey. She loves cars and especially monster trucks. You'll have to blamed it on her father being a car mechanic.

No villain wants to talk with their parents. Clara especially. She knows how her mother would react to her transition. It'll be poorly.

She and Judge Sludge are great friends. Their favorite activities include arm wrestling and actual wrestling.

In fact her, Hot Flash, and Judge Sludge are really close. Hot Flash and Destruction Worker like to blow shit up for funsies.

Hot Flash, coming at you with a fire ball!

Her name was Cinderella Brooks and that is a terrible name she had figured. To the point that everyone called her Cindy. Her childhood was normal. She had a couple of siblings and well meaning parents. Her mother was a stay at home mom and was seen cooking a lot. Young Cindy loved her Mama's cooking and when she got older, Cindy followed in her mother's footsteps. To her own detriment.

Cindy married a wealthy man in the city of Metro City, Carlos Fritz. He was a well known mob boss in the city and his name spoke terror in the people. At first, Cindy liked the lifestyle. She gets to cook as Carlos does all the nasty work out there and pays the rent. Over time, it soured. Carlos was vindictive and controlling. Cindy just wanted some freedom, was it all that bad?

Apparently it was, as one day, Cindy found herself pregnant. Even better with a boy, Carlos said. He always wanted a heir to his little throne over Metro City. She raised the boy, Michael. She cared for him as Carlos grew even worse and colder.

In the end, it all came to a boil point. She couldn't handle it anymore. She left Carlos and took some of his money and Michael with her. She restarted her life and picked up some ingredients to create her own diner. Metro City Diner. It was a something. It wasn't the best but it wasn't the worst. It was middle of road. It got her and her son by.

The years went by with her son growing to be in middle school and it felt right finally for the first one her life. She felt fine.

Then it came crashing down upon her once more. Diagnosed with brain cancer, the Doctor said. She had to scrape by her funds from her restaurant and she wasn't even quite she would make it. She wouldn't, of course she wouldn't. Just when it was all going right. She decided to find something to make through at least another year of her life. To help her son out. She wouldn't want to leave in the care of his father.

Someone came up to her. A doctor in her little diner. He heard her pleads and by his kindness, wanted to help. More then help, he would heal her. She accepted. It sound too good to be true but God damn it what else would she have? Over the span of only two months, this doctor, Dr.Hoover managed to cure her. He managed to heal her. She-

Her head was on fire. Her head was one fire yet she didn't feel any pain. "Interesting," he noted, "Nobody survived my procure yet here you are with the ability to spawn fire."

Her life continues but her restaurant does not. In her veins, she wants to burn. She wants to lit the fire in her heart that left off dimmed for too long...

Her son graduates as his mother is now known as Hot Flash.

Other stuff about her:

She can't keep her head on fire for too long or else it'll start actually burning. She doesn't have a full proof resistance against fire but she is more than willing to put up with fire than anyone else.

She's prob bi. She doesn't really mind hanging out with girls like that.

She could cook a mean grill.

Her and Psycho Delic have the most resistance to spicy food to the point that it is comical. They could eat a ghost pepper and be fine while the rest of the group are dying.

Her son is dude monkey.

She is the most sane of the group. Has to restrain Delic, DW, and Conductie from doing dumb shit. Judge just watches.

She is friends with Judge Sludge. They're favorite past time is watching the Metro City's harbor go by.

Judge Sludge has come to make his call.

Joseph Ridgeway was a normal man with a normal life. He might've had a hard childhood with constant building but he never let that stopped from what he wanted in life. To serve justice. He became a lawyer than a judge in Metro City. He had a wife and two kids. He was the prime example of a hard working American man.

So nobody expected to see as a pile of disgusting pile of sludge years after he died. But he never did either. He wanted his body to be donated to science. He never specified who would grab any of his parts which Is how Dr.Hoover got his brain. That doctor had an idea to revive the man. To stimulate the brain to think it was alive in a normal body. Slime was the perfect mold to recreate the man. Years went by as Dr.Hoover made him alive again.

As Joseph saw himself to be... this. He was a monster. He left to find his living family. Obviously, the public went ballistic seeing the living sludge to which they called upon Metroman to take it to prison.

Joseph didn't understand. It was him! It was him, Joseph! Even as slime, they would have recognized him, right?

Joseph stayed in prison for a long time. He was scared to go outside. He felt hatred at how easy the public was to betray him. Where was the justice for him when he had delivered it so many times? The prison mates might have felt bad for him, but they wouldn't understood them like those four did.

Four supervillains, all with their own pasts of judgement and sorrow. All of them with hate towards the so called hero of Metro City. He wanted to help them. He joined them with the alias of Judge Sludge.

He hated Metroman's phoniness, a false idol in the image of justice.

And he'll hate Megamind even more for his betrayal for the people of Metro City.

Judge Sludge was the entire reason the Doom Syndicate was back and even better than before.

More about the Judge:

Cishet but Aro. He doesn't realize that his entire relationship with his wife was just queerplatonic. She was his bestest friend.

Her name was Stella and sometimes the other members can hear him mutter her name in his sleep. Along with other miscellaneous but very less important stuff.

He doesn't sleep normally like a human. He has to sleep in a bucket.

He is the oldest one of the group no matter where you look. Judge Sludge in his current form was meant to resemble himself in his 50s.

His sludge is only toxic if he throws it up. He can only throw up so much until he has to stop otherwise he actually start taking slime off himself.

Psycho Delic does experiments on Judge's request. Neither have any idea on what the fuck Judge Sludge is made of but it has some similarities with gelatin.

He has autism because I can. Much more relaxed type of Autism. His special interest is sea vessels. Used to have a billion of them when he was human.

Lastly but not least, The Conductor!

Ludwig Greenaway was born under the Greenaway's household, one of the richest families in Metro City along with the Scotts. Their rivalry was unmatched by anyone in the city. It was only made worse when their children was born on the same day or landed if you were Wayne Scott.

Ludwig was faced with harsh criticism from his parents. They wanted their son to be better than that Wayne Scott. But that child knew that his parents wanted Wayne to be their child. Wayne was powerful, more than a normal child. No matter how many ballet sessions he could take or how many instruments he could play. Ludwig could never match literal godhood in form of a child his own age.

He was small, petite, and weak. He wanted to be a conductor because at least he would have some control over something he liked. Not to be controlled by his parents to be their doll. He didn't want to be a superhero unlike Wayne or Metroboy.

His parents didn't care. They saw greatness in Wayne. They saw how the Scotts were adorned and loved by the people for their little boy. They had to follow. They found a man. A man who had an idea to give their child superpowers. They just had to take a few risks.

Later that night, Mr. and Mrs. Greenaway had to watch to their son thrashed in the water until they resurfaced him.

The doctor, through the most wondrous creation revived their child from death. He had a power, they all realized. He could control lightning. He could control the electricity in their technology.

But it wasn't enough. He passed out from his first usage of his powers. They had to make it better. They had to make them stronger.

Over the years, he saw himself infiltrated again. And again. Like a someone's high school project. A sick fantasy of both family and medicine. Most of his own body soon wasn't his. They'll patch up anything rotting away. His spine wasn't bone anymore but cold hard steel of the floor he sat and rested upon.

He wasn't quite sure what happened. How he escaped was a mystery to him. His parents were still alive, so the doctor must've died. One out of four. Definitely not enough. They had to pay. They'll all pay.

He took on two new names for himself. Danny Frankenstein and The Conductor to the citizens of Metro City.

He made it by with the money he stole from the rich. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't glamorous. But it wasn't like he cared. He cared about his reputation. The thundering Maestro of Metro City. He couldn't land a single hit on Metro Man but somehow, he'll make that God's empire crumble under him.

And with that infamy, he had some of the other infamous come to him. A man made of purple skin and smoke. Psycho Delic intrigued him. He came to him for lyrics for a band he wanted to create. It was stupid but it excited him. Psycho excited him. All the things he could do at the tip of his hands. He was lucky that when he went to jail again that Psycho did too.

He might've been the leader of their little posse but Conductor knew that one day, Freddie would be in the palm of his hand.

About the Conductor:

Gay, he's gay. I don't want to stereotype but have you looked at him-

He has pituitary dwarfism. It wasn't passed on but more of a genetic mutation he gotten.

To imagine what Conductor is like. Imagine Sander Cohen from BioShock but a little bit more sane. Only a little bit more sane.

Conductor can play the piano and the violin.

Conductor is the youngest. Being only in his early 30s. (To compare, Psycho in his mid 30s with Hot Flash and Destruction Worker in the 40s.)

Conductor also has super speed. But it isn't Metro Man's super speed. Conductor can only do it in short bursts and has a hard time turning around. It drains a lot of his energy; so he only does it when He needs it like running away or hitting a target immediately.

Conductor hates the beauty standard. He prefers the inherited beauty of differences and ugliness. Which is why he has a massive obsession with Psycho Delic. Psycho's spotted purple skin and baldness has captived him.

[yeowangies]

Blood Stains

CHAPTER V: Since the moment I saw you

❧

PAIRING: Raditz/Reader RATING: Mature CONTENTS: Canon Divergence AU, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Enemies to Lovers. WARNINGS: Implied sexual content. WORDCOUNT: 2536

Summary:

“What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you.”

His honesty visibly startles you, and Raditz’s smirk grows wider. You don’t even have to consider whether or not you’re going to let him in because you have already decided that you will.

Notes:

I'm sorry in advance lmao

You can check the tag #*bs if you wanna see the previous chapters.

Raditz stares at the sky from the middle of the highlands where he’s spending most of his time. This planet is pleasantly calm. He hates it sometimes. There are moments when he feels like getting the fuck out of there; he’s not used to peace and quiet. Most of his life has been chaos and fighting and blood and destruction. He craves it again. Sometimes. 

Other times, he finds this lifestyle surprisingly easy. He just does what he wants when he wants to do it, and it’s simple. He doesn’t have to explain himself to anyone. 

He encountered a human woman days before he went to see you at Capsule Corp. It was a peculiar woman; she was looking for an ‘adventure’ or something, and she was fascinated by his tail, said she didn’t believe it was real. 

Raditz had smirked at the moment. He wanted to get laid and the opportunity had presented itself all on its own. That woman wasn’t bad looking either, she was more on the muscular side. It was easier to seduce her than he thought; she was already hung up on him because of his tail anyway. 

The sex had been fine. More than satisfactory even. She did things that women and men rarely do on other planets, like oral sex. And when he penetrated her, he realized he did actually need to get laid. It felt good to be inside a tight wet warmth after all that time, and he came sooner than he anticipated, though the woman didn’t seem to mind. 

Raditz left her where he found her soon afterwards, ignoring her when she asked if he had a phone number she could call him too. It had felt good and all, but he didn’t want to spend anymore time around her. Or anyone. 

That had been the worst part. He realized he needed to get laid, but that didn’t solve the underlying issue he had been dealing with. Even after days went by, he still thought about you way too often. He still wanted you. If anything he wanted you even more now that his dick wasn’t so desperate to get wet. 

Raditz wasn’t expecting to find you at Capsule Corp. when he went there. He just wanted to find the radar for the Dragon Balls he assumed existed. And from what he heard from you, your friend must have it. It had been pointless, because he destroyed her lab and found nothing that might resemble a radar. His old scouter had caught his attention when he saw it, but he didn’t need it anymore so he left it there. 

But that makeout session had made everything worth it. Kissing, just kissing, had never actually felt so right and so good. He could have spent the entire night kissing you, and he was reconsidering even leaving your balcony to look for that radar until you left. He would have stayed there all night, and that was making alarm bells ring in his head. 

What kind of power did you have over him that just made him lose his head so easily? 

As he looks at the night sky, moonless and full of stars, Raditz can’t stop thinking about how soft your lips were, and how smooth your touch felt when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. He’s getting hard imagining how all of that would feel in other parts of his body, like your fingers tracing his torso, and your lips kissing his abdomen and trailing even lower. 

He’s picturing a lot more raunchy scenarios in his head when he grips his cock some time later, coming all over his hand with forceful tugs. He knows he’s doomed, he can’t stop thinking about you no matter what he does. The image he first had of you in your swimsuit was long gone by now, he just pictures you in whatever clothes he saw you last, but it doesn’t matter because all he wants is to take them off anyway. 

Why does he even want those Dragon Balls? Raditz just wants you. 

He’s still furious about what Vegeta said about him. Immortality would make it easier for Raditz if Vegeta wants to beat him to death or something, wouldn’t be the first time the man does that to him. He knows he’s stronger after that near death experience, he feels it in his muscles and the way he can gather his energy in one hand so fast and just better than before; but at best, he’s at Nappa’s level of strength, not Vegeta’s. 

But he really doesn’t know what to do when those two get here. 

There’s no way Kakarot can win that fight. It doesn't matter how much he’s training or whatever, he’s no match for Nappa or Vegeta. He wasn’t even a match for Raditz himself. And even his nephew, who was stronger than Raditz then, wouldn’t stand a chance, he was a kid with zero experience in real life combat after all.

Maybe actually nothing has changed. He’s still a Saiyan, working with the remaining of his species under Frieza, hoping to one day overthrow him. And this is just a break in his routine. 

It doesn’t feel right to think that way, but this is a situation without any kind of resolve. This is just a break. Nappa and Vegeta will get here, and he’s going to have to leave with them somehow, even when he doesn’t know how because his pod is not even operable. 

That’s the scenario most likely to happen, and as days go by, Raditz accepts that idea more and more. Immortality sounds like a good idea too, however. For his own good, at least.

*

Bulma is furious with you, though she hasn’t explicitly said it like the last time you argued, but you could feel it whenever you were around because she glares at you. As if you had anything to do with Raditz practically destroying her entire lab.

You want to know why he did it, but it’s been a month since that and you have no idea where the hell Raditz is. It’s getting a little annoying to see him come and go so easily, but you have no right to be upset about it either.

That kiss lingered on your mind since then, though. It was too much, yet not enough. But now that the attraction on both sides was more than obvious, you’re starting to feel a little guilty about it since Raditz is still technically your enemy. You don’t know what he’s planning to do once the other two Saiyans get here, and if you have to take a guess… He’s not going to want to stay on this planet. You never expected that to begin with, but you feel a little bad the more you dwell on it.

Before that, your expectations were practically non-existent. You like Raditz, he’s handsome and hot and you could look at him for hours, but that was it. You craved him, and even more so now after that kiss, and he obviously wants you too. Is sleeping with the enemy a good idea, though?

You’re back in your apartment by then, thinking about it as you put on the shirt and shorts you use as pajamas to rest for the night. It has already been around seven months since Goku died. You have no idea how long his training will take, but you hope he’s back soon, you miss him, you didn’t really get to spend time with him the last time you saw him, since he died that same day. You wonder how Gohan is doing, and you worry how much is Piccolo changing him; he’s just a child after all. 

You wrap your hair in a messy bun after blow drying it, putting away the dirty laundry for tomorrow before you climb on the bed, practically collapsing once you’re on top of it. It has been some rough days, but it has been like that since that day Raditz came to Earth. Sometimes you’d panic thinking about how vast the universe must be now that you know there are a lot of species and habitable planets out there. And Goku is one of those species from far away. It doesn’t feel real. 

When you hear a loud knock at your balcony door, you practically fall off the bed. You’re on the tenth floor…

Oh.

Letting your hair down and running your fingers through it to look somehow presentable, you jump off the bed and peek through the curtains. There is Raditz, smirking when he notices you. You open the door of the balcony, and look at him curiously.

“I’m gonna teach you how to use the door.”

“This is much more fun, though.” He grins. 

You don’t make a move to let him in, and he doesn’t move to walk inside either.

“What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you.”

His honesty visibly startles you, and Raditz’s smirk grows wider. You don’t even have to consider whether or not you’re going to let him in because you have already decided that you will. You open the door wider after a moment and move to the side, and he walks in.

“You stink…” You say, holding your nose as you close the door. Raditz only chuckles. “I’ll get the bathroom ready for you to shower…”

“Like I said, there aren’t any showers where I’m staying.” He says casually.

“So you come here once a month to use my shower?”

“No, I try to clean myself as best as I can by the river.”

You hum in acknowledgement as you get the clothes he has left there last time he was in your apartment, now clean and fresh. When you’re done setting everything, he doesn’t wait for you to say anything before he walks into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. You roll your eyes to yourself, amused that he feels so at home at your place. 

So, he’s staying near a river; you remember he mentioned he was staying in the wild, so apparently he hasn’t been going to too many places. Still doesn’t answer what he’s been doing.

When Raditz walks out of the bathroom, you glance at him, taking in the sight of his body wearing sweatpants and shirt, and his tail tightly wrapped around his waist, as per usual. You saw him with those clothes before, but it’s different now; he’s in your apartment, at night, a month after you two kissed. 

“Did you eat?” You ask. 

He only grunts as a yes, walking into your room to look around. You walk behind him, looking around as well to see if you hadn’t left anything weird on the floor or by the dresser. 

“Bulma is mad that you destroyed her lab, you know?” You comment as you watch him snoop around. 

“No kidding.” He replies flatly. 

“Why did you do it?”

Raditz turns to look at you, but he doesn’t reply right away. He stares for a long time until you start fidgeting, feeling a little awkward.

“The Dragon Balls, you have them, don't you?” 

You can’t help but gape at him momentarily, enough to make him smirk when he notices your panicked look.

“Why do you want them?” 

“I assume if you had to look for them, like you said,” Raditz goes on, ignoring your question. “There must be something to help you with that, like a radar. I know you won’t tell me where the Dragon Balls are, so I went there looking for that radar instead.”

He could have turned Bulma’s lab upside down and he wouldn’t have found it. She keeps the radar in her bedroom. 

“Why do you want them?” You repeat the same question, but Raditz only huffs, choosing not to reply. “You won’t tell me, huh?”

“Just like you won’t tell me where they are.”

“We want to bring Goku back to life, I can’t give them to you.”

“I’ll make my wish and then you all are free to wish my brother back.” He smirks, taking a couple of steps closer to you. “It’s not like that’s going to help you much anyway.”

“I can’t! The Dragon Balls can only grant you one wish before they remain useless for a year-” You gasp, covering your mouth with your hand when you realize you haven’t told him about this particular piece of information. Until now. “Fuck.”

Raditz looks at with brows furrowed, confused, as he registers what you just said.

“So you have been hiding more information from me. I should have known.”

“I didn’t know what you were going to do, I couldn’t tell you everything!”

“And you’re still not telling me everything, are you? I suppose we are still enemies after all.” 

“Maybe, but I had never treated you like one.” When he raises an eyebrow, you roll your eyes and clarify. “Except for all this. Or are you gonna tell me that you kiss all your enemies?”

“No, I do not kiss any of my enemies.”

“So I think we’re past being either friends or enemies, don’t you think?”

Raditz looks at you with an unreadable expression. Luckily you have never been afraid of him, because not knowing why he’s looking at you like that is making you uneasy. You bite your lip, averting your eyes elsewhere so you wouldn’t have to look at him. Having him so close is making heat rise up to your face, and you hope it’s not noticeable. 

“When you went to Capsule Corp. did you kiss me to distract me or something?” You ask him with a side glance. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, I didn’t need to distract you from anything. In any case, you were trying to distract me.” He huffs with an amused grin now, making you chuckle. “I had no idea you were there.”

“Well, you surprised me too.”

“Did I?”

With that smug smile still on his lips, Raditz leans down impossibly closer, his nose almost touching yours. You can’t hide your blush then, but you don’t pull back, expecting to see what he does next, even though you know it before he even does it. 

It still surprises you how soft he can be when he kisses you, lips pressed against yours before he darts out his tongue to explore your mouth. You hum, exhilarated, as you slide your hands up his shoulders, gripping his shirt when his hands land on your waist. 

“I won’t help you.” It’s the first thing you say once you’ve caught your breath, as Raditz leans his forehead against yours.

“I’m not expecting you to.” His hand slides across your cheek softly before settling on your neck, and even that simple gesture thrills you. “You said we were past being friends or enemies. This is something we can do without being either.”

What he’s doing is obvious, you don’t really need any convincing to go into this. You love seeing his attempts, though.

“I know you want me too.” Raditz finally adds with a smirk.

“‘Too’?” You quirk an eyebrow. 

“I want you. Since the moment I saw you, I’ve wanted to have you.”

[sketchfanda]

Chestnut Stud Across the Multiverse: Warrior Monk Quality Control:Hakkaa Päälle!!

Sofia Valmer,or Valmet as most knew her, was not what you'd call an easy woman. Especially in her line of work as a mercenary and it was dirty business but business was good for the likes of her particularly ever since the fall of the red ribbon army some years back. But she had to say if all the jins she’d been hired for, she’d never thought she’d have a task like this, let alone be hired by the ceo of Capsule Corp for a gig. But here she was standing before the one and only Bulma Briefs, looking at her like she suddenly grew two heads and started spouting gibberish like up was down, black was white,cats were dogs and vice versa and mating together and Christmas was in July!! Who could blame ehr for thinking so given what the genius CEO had just told her. She had to be seriously high or this was one of those hidden camera prank shows, right? Oh sure the money on offer was good ,well within six to seven figures. But all the same she was a goddamn professional soldier, not some high priced whore!

Valmet:*deadpan expression* So you’re telling me you’ve hired me to have sex? bulma:^w^to be precise,I’ve hired Yiu to perform sex with one of my special products.*looking unashamed,if anything she seemed pretty giddy* Valmet:*crosses her muscular arms under her quite glorious bust,as she stood clad in a tanktop,boots and denim jeans*Ms.Briefs, I’m a professional soldier for hire, not some hooker or pornstar for you to try out some of your sex toys…. Bulma:*gets up from where she sat at her desk, her simple red dress making it easy to see the bounce of her thicc tits and ass as she took a hold of one of those scum,pted arms of the one armed merc and gently pulled her along to follow*Now now, Ms.Valmet, just have a look at who and what you will be working with….

Valmet could only sigh and rolled her one good eye as she decided to humour her client, finding herself lesd to the man that housed Capsule Cocks, the special Adult Entertainment based branch and Bulma’s personal pride and joy. What the eyepatch toting butch beauty found before her made her feel like she had stepped into the set of a porn studio as all around her women in either or lab coats and lingerie if not fully naked filling the walls with the cries of ecstasy pouring forth from their mouths and the sound of skin slapping pleasure. That is if they’re rent busy having their mouths stuffed with deep throat blowjobs in the biggest dildos ever seen or in this case getting facefucked or plowed deep and hard into their wombs by a shortstack Adonis. Who seemed to be all over the damn place or had multiple twins who were either gangbanging some girls or getting swarmed by them, a slight blush on her face as she felt her denim clad thighs getting slick,sticky and warm. Bulma shooting her sky Minx grin like a cat caught the canary, kmowing the female merc had been caught hook and line. Now for the sinker as the lair came to a room marked Testing Chamber, the merc perplexed to find rather than some sterile hospital or science lab like room, it seemed she had entered the high class suite of a five star hotel room. And sitting in the queen sized bed was that same runt chromedome, his fsce a serious stoic expression,eyes glowing a dim blue as he sat clad in just spandex boxers, his gaze locked on Valmet, who in turn gave Bulma the most deadpan expression yet, the scientific sex bomb smiling with no sense of shame what so ever.

Bulma:^w^See now, easiest money you’ll ever make AND you get a good itch scratching. All I need for you to do is perform sexually with our fresh of the line Warrior Monk here, got to make sure the little guy’s stamina and staying power are up to standard. It one of our best sellers… Valmet:-_-Ma’am, am I to understand you want me to give you a live,porn show with a glorified literal sex machine? Bulma:^w0Pretty much,yeah,ain’t he adorable? My silent partner made him from head to toe based kna close persomal friend of mine,and trust me, straight,bisexual and especially lesbian? He knows his way around a woman….

As soon as she finished saying thst,Bulma went and parked herself over on the luxury couch,straightening herself up eagerly awaiting the show to begin. To which Valmet could only sigh and shrug her shoulders, thinking to herself she might as well get it over with. Sure it was pretty much just performing with a dildo, that just so happened to have a body attached to it and was likely fully functional. Gesturing for for the Krillin clone to come on over, to which the short king twin nodded as he got up from seat, standing an even five feet to her 5 foot 7 though to some he could mistaken for four foot tall. Her single golden eye widening as as he pulled his boxers down, letting his cock hit the ground with a thud as it sprang forth to become stiff and erect. A slight blush growing on the merc’s face to see such length and girth up close in the naked flesh, thinking to herself if this mobile sex toy was actually getting hard just from looking at her. It was rather flattering actually and a bit of a turn on, sensually biting her lip as she felt her nipples as she lifted up her tanktop to flash her abs at him. A shudder running up along her spine at seeing his dick twitch in response, confirming he was indeed getting aroused from her. And she hadn’t even gotten naked yet….key word being yet of course.

Bulma knew she didn’t have to wait long to get her money’s worth and for her show to start as she watched Valmet make out with the Warrior Monk. The Krillin clone fresh off the production line and in need of popping his cherry with some hands on experience making the butch beauty moan as their tongues danced together. The female merc kneeling on the floor as she moaned at his hands groping and squeezing her tanktop clad tits, her hand stroking his cock as she had it pressed and running up against her abs. Giving him a jerk off with her six pack, gasping as she suddenly found her tanktop pulled off and her compact playmate shove her onto the ground back flat as he say and straddled her torso. Soon purring as she found him sandwiching his cock between her stunning jugs. Squeezing those pillows in his hands as he pumped and thrust between the valley of her cleavage, the tip touching her lips as she couldn’t help but give little licks and kisses, her tastebuds dancing from the flavour of his pre. Their not so secret voyeur licking her own lips at seeing her sex toy prove he was more than ready to make some lucky customer very happy as she whipped her tits out of her dress,shamelessly groping them as she plunged a hand under her skirt. Plunging her fingers deep into her slit as she felt the stick slickness of arousal flow, kmowing these two were just getting started.

Valmet:*hums and ours as she felt her body ride the wave of momentum of pleasure flowing through her being,those heavy balls running along her abs as his shaft continued to be massaged with her boobs* Mmmm,not bad little man..I think I’m actually getting wet but seems to be you’re going easy on me…..

As she said this,her hands were busy reaching down to unbuckle and undo the fly of her jeans,peeling them down along with her thong low enough to expose her own slit. Eyes gleaming as she gave a predatory grin, surprising the warrior monk as she flexed and tensed her muscles. Pouncing as in the blink of an eye, she grabbed him and suddenly shifted their position. Holding him upside and holding him face level with her crotch as In a sudden act of nymphomanic thirst, she latched her lips to his cock. Stunning Bulma with how she deepthroated him, lips kissing the base of his abs and his balls, neck bulging itch his length and girth, the short king twin in kid grabbed and squeezed her wuite juicy bubble butt as he pressed his found, making out with her pussy as his tongue probed away to drink up her juices. hu,ma in awe of the butch Amazon soldier’s shifting from a titfuck to a vertical 69, seems Valmet wanted this a lot more than she had previously let on.

Bulma:oh wow….so amazing…*she whispered,continuing to shamelessly play with herself,as she reached for a nearby drawer,fishing out a Warrior Monk model dildo, which she shamelessly began to suck and lick on, miming and mimicking Valmet’s actions. Mental visions from her brain coming forth of her own prior acts of sexual intimacy with Krillin and the constant need to fill the void with 21’s very willing and able perfect clones. Like that those regular rendezvous she and ChiChi would have with the shirt king pounding their tunas because their husbands once again had to neglect tending to their carnal needs in favour more needless training*

Valmet of course was feelin her spine tingle with orgasmic bliss as her shortstack sex clone friend proved himself quite skilled and capable at eating her out. Even as she practically suffocated herself on his cock, the taste and scent of his,for lack of a better word,manliness making those primal aspects of her brain tingle. Those deep seated instincts to mate and breed with an alpha male making her ride the momentum as she soon found herself laying back flat on the queen sized bed,which she found was heart shaped. Head hanging off the edge of the mattress as she found his balls smacking her face. Moaning as he stood over her,facefucking her as he pistoned his hips like a jackhammer. Her neck bulging and swelling as a single heart flowed within her one good eye while his hand reached out to plunge his fingers into her pussy. Prodding thst tight,warm sloppy slit as her tits bounced, orgasms assaulting her like a bombardment of explosives on the battlefield.

Before Valmet knew it,she was was fulky nude,her glorious toned work of muscular srt of a body glistening with the sweat as she rode her Warrior Monk cowgirl style. Ass jiggling,tits bouncing as she shamelessly plunged herself on that glorious cock. Her pussy welcoming that fuckrod in its sensual embrace as her womb awaited his seed. His heavy balls smacking her booty as his hands grabbed and massaged her big tits. Her fsce an expression of raw,mind numbing ecstasy, tongue out like a bitch in heat. She wasn’t sure how many orgasms she’d had so far and quite frankly she didn’t care, never mind how long they’d been going at it like this. All that she knew was she didn’t want it to stop as she placed her hands atop his, giving him a look as she leaned down to give him a sloppy open air kiss. Their tongues dancing together as they swapped spit and saliva as Bulma continued to watch on with shameless desire. Fully naked herself as she squatted down on her dildo, visualising herself in Valmet’s place as she reminded herself to make a session with her own warrior monk or see if Krillin had some Time to be a pal and scratch her itch like only he could.

Valmet:aaaahn,come on little man,thst all you got? Make me scream and sweat you sex machine!!*the moment she said that,she found herself rolling with him as they struggled to either top one another for an Amazon or mating press* Fuck!, six times you’ve come inside and not pulled once,amazing!*the testing chamber room Echoing with the sound of skin slapping,animalistic sex as she took it doggy style,screaming wantonly as he would fuck her pussy and her ass, deep moans escaping her as he’d slap her booty, to finding herself held up,arms and legs wrapped around him as he performed a standing fuck,fee firmly atop the mattress.*Yes yes yes!!

Hakkaa Päälle!!

it wasn’t the first or last time she would let out her native battle cry, as she aimed to keep going until this sex clone passed out or she did. Bulma of course knew thst not only did this warrior monk pass his quality control test with flying colours, but Valmet ha earned her payday and perhaps a warrior monk all her own. After all in her line of work, a woman like her had needs and the battlefield and war zones were hard places to find some intimacy and real decent means of pleasure. Another satisfied customer and thanks to hidden cameras in the chamber,a good customer review to once again hype their best seller. Ah it was truly good when business was booming.

[silentspacenstuff]

I've mentioned this character a number of times before, but now she's finally getting a proper introduction.

Name: Callisto Alioth Age: at the time she and Warp meet, she appears to be around 24 Earth years old; however, she is chronologically at least ten thousand years old   Sex: Female Species: Ezzari Height: 4'9" Weight: 122 lbs Orientation: Straight Occupation: Prior to being cryogenically frozen and sent from her homeworld, an apprentice priestess to her grandmother Theia; after her rescue from a slave auction, a maid in the house of Warp Darkmatter Homeworld: unknown Love interest: Warp Darkmatter Family: Theia (grandmother, deceased), Iapetus (father, deceased), Capella (mother, deceased), Blaze (son) Backstory:

Callisto was a member of the Ezzari, an ancient alien race that was one of the most powerful and advanced of its time; they were especially well-known for their creation of a unique and powerful fusion crystal made with an ingredient found only on their homeworld and known only to themselves. However, there came a time when the mighty Ezzari civilization would fall, and their numbers would be decimated. Callisto was placed in a cryogenesis capsule by her father Iapetus, in the hopes that his daughter would be spared the genocide of their people.

Approximately ten thousand years later, her capsule would be found in the jungle of Talera-5 by a team of archeologists, who took pity on the frightened young woman and allowed her to stay with them. Several days later, one of those archeologists would turn out to be a slave trader and sell Callisto to a black market dealer on Tradeworld to be sold at an auction.

When Callisto was brought out on the auction stage, the bidders were intrigued by the exotic beauty before them, especially a Raenok general named Skurj. Several bids were made for the young Ezzari woman, but Skurj managed to retain the highest bid until a muscular blue-skinned man by the name of Warp Darkmatter outbid him at the last minute. Though relieved the Raenok wouldn't be taking her, Callisto was by no means thrilled about being a slave to this cocky brute of a man and made several attempts at escaping from him once he brought her to his home. Though Warp would be injured by her during some of these attempts, he couldn't help but admire her fiery spirit in spite of his frustration.

In an attempt to win her trust, Warp decided to keep his distance from Callisto for awhile, but would leave her gifts by a garden pool she liked to sit by. She remained wary of him, but began to allow him to come closer. One day, while Callisto was massaging Warp's back, the latter noticed the former staring at a decorative urn with great interest.

"Oh, you like that old thing, eh? I found it on one of the moons of Altaari and thought it looked interesting. I have no idea what those odd scribbles all over it are supposed to mean, though."

"I - I know what it means," Callisto responded timidly. "It is in the language of my people." She began to translate the writing on the urn, while Warp listened with great interest.

From that moment on, the two of them would spend more time together, with Callisto telling Warp stories about her world and the Ezzari, and Warp entertaining Callisto with tales of his adventures across the galaxy. However, there came a time when Callisto told Warp something that would be the beginning of the end of the happiest time of his life since joining Zurg. 

"I'm pregnant."

Warp was of course shocked, but also happy he was going to be a father. Callisto, though also happy about her upcoming motherhood, knew something she didn't want her lover to know, fearing if he did know it would endanger her unborn child's life. So she kept it a secret, even as she grew more weak and tired as her pregnancy progressed. Warp was of course concerned, but Callisto assured him she was fine. The day came when a healthy baby boy was born to Warp and Callisto. As Callisto held her son for the first (which would also be the last) time, her smile faded and a tear slid down her cheek. Warp asked if something was wrong, to which Callisto responded, "It's nothing. I'm just tired. Do you think you could take him while I rest awhile?" Warp of course obliged, then asked if she knew what she wanted to named their son, to which she responded, "How about ... Blaze?"

Those were Callisto's last words before she closed her eyes.

She never awakened after that. 

Buzz Lightyear of Star Command and related characters (c) Disney and Pixar Callisto here is mine.

[cocklessboy]

The problem with my ADHD medication is that it wears off every evening.

I had some success with Ritalin, but I had some really unpleasant side effects with it. Constant desperate thirst, no appetite, grogginess, occasional racing pulse, and, oddly, disruptively increased sex drive (to which my psychiatrist said, and I quote, “well that’s weird. that shouldn’t happen.” exactly what you want to hear your doctor say). I was panicking, because Ritalin was my last hope. There are no other ADHD meds in this country (we don’t even have Adderall here), just atomoxetine (which gave me psychotic side effects) and Ritalin.

Well, methylphenidate. That’s the chemical name. Ritalin, but also... Concerta. The same drug, but in a slow-release capsule. When you take Ritalin, it enters your blood stream quickly, then gradually fades and leaves your system within about 4 hours. Concerta is taken in the morning and very slowly releases the drug over the course of 8-12 hours. In my case, about 10 hours, pretty consistently.

On the Concerta, my side effects vanished. I have. ZERO SIDE EFFECTS. Just the benefits. It has been life-changing. I get done in a single day what used to take me a month. Easily. With minimal effort. And with no side effects.

That constant desperate itchy NEED for stimulation is... gone. I can just... do stuff. Focus on stuff. Remember stuff.

I didn’t get diagnosed until I was 37 years old. 37 years of coping mechanisms and just scraping by. 37 years of hating myself and assuming I was the lazy, useless loser everyone said I was. 37 years of finding clever ways to trick my brain into letting me do basic life tasks.

And now I have my medication. A medication that works, perfectly, and with no side effects at all.

Until it wears off.

I take my pills around 10 am, and by about 8 pm, the meds have worn off. But I’m a night owl. I’m up till 1 am at the earliest. And from 8 pm till bed time I am unmedicated.

And it’s strange. It doesn’t feel like how I used to feel. By 8 pm I’ve accomplished loads. I’ve done work for my job, cleaned my home, cooked and eaten several meals, sent a load of emails, exercised, worked on projects, done some errands... And now I’m tired. Really, genuinely tired. But the gremlins have wrested back control of my brain from the medication and they are ANGRY. They have been denied their day of constant stimulation seeking. They have been denied their frequent little dopamine hits from scrolling tumblr or playing some stupid no-effort video game. They want stimulation NOW.

But there’s none left to have. There are no tasks to be distracted by, or distracted from. No emails to agonize over replying to. No work tasks that I know I should really get done but haven’t managed to do yet. No new posts to read on tumblr. And yeah, I could probably find a no-effort video game to play but... I’m tired. I’ve been doing stuff all day. I don’t want to.

But I’m not sleepy. I have that delayed sleep cycle and I absolutely cannot sleep so early no matter how tired I am.

And so I find myself in a weird haze at the end of each day when my meds wear off. The itchy feeling of needing stimulation is back, but the usual cycle of distraction and dopamine hits has been more or less dismantled. I don’t have anything ready to keep my brain satisfied anymore. I don’t have the mental energy left to focus on anything that requires even the tiniest bit of brain power. I can’t focus both because the gremlins have taken the wheel and because I’ve been focusing really well all day and my brain just doesn’t have any fuel left.

It’s a strange sort of state to be in each evening, feeling that vague need to do something but not being able to come up with anything to do.

I’m profoundly lucky that I not only have found a medication that works for me, but live in a place where it is very affordable. I wouldn’t trade my new life for anything. In the few months since I started this medication I’ve literally turned my life around. I went from barely surviving to finally being able to do all the things I’ve always needed and wanted to do with time left over to relax. There are so, so many people who could be helped just as easily, but don’t have access to the proper medication, or maybe don’t even know they need it.

But there is still this weird state I enter each evening. The gremlins are waking up just as I’m trying to head towards bed. I’ve completed my tasks for the day and I can relax and watch a movie or read a book or play a game but... I’m tired. And the gremlins are bored. It sort of... itches. But differently to how it itched before.

And I guess I need to learn new coping mechanisms for this new situation, to replace the old ones which I no longer need.