#sorry for the late answer op and thanks for the ask very interesting

[spicyvampire]

So I was thinking about your amazing post about Tharn, Doc, and Phaya. You thought that Tharn would have become a doc/nurse or something in the healing profession (which I completely agree with) if not for trauma. Which got me thinking about Doc Slowmotion and why he became a doctor of all things? Surely there would have been an easier job that would have allowed him access to Tharn's life. I think he took thought Tharn would become a doc or something like that which would have put him in perfect position to mentor and support Tharn. But instead Tharn took a hard left to becoming a cop straight to Phaya so Doc was like "fine I will be a doc that helps with cop cases?!?" I don't know if this made sense but wanted to share and thank you for your long detailed post. It was a great read and spot on.

Thank you, and I'm guessing that you are referencing to this post so I kinda have 2 answers for this I'll put them under keep reading too i'm sure they might get long again

AHEAD OF THE GAME

Before watching the whole show, I thought Dr Snake was a therapist to manipulate Tharn, like Tharn's parents died in an accident he survived at a young age, and at some point he was gonna need therapy for this, so at first I thought he went in there to keep being ahead of the narrative and have a prime view on everything going on Tharn wise what better way to make sure the one you want does exactly what u want by being literally being there to pick his brain when you need to? (honestly such an Hannibal move, that's why I keep saying this man got his PhD at Hannibal Lecter's school of psychiatry)

But this way of seeing this was always a bit fuelled by the fact that I wasn't sure if Snake, PhD was actually in love with Tharn, which frankly I stopped wondering when even the Abbot said it

I was like okay he does love Tharn, like so much he doesn't care what happens to his soul if he keep trying to play shoot the bird, I think doctor snake genuinely love this reincarnation of Wansarut a lot so much that it does change his motivations in the end (will talk about it in the post I'll make about it) so it might less be about manipulation and more about a good way to just be there and know everything going on first hand and honestly just care for Tharn

MENTOR

But what you said about him being Tharn's mentor is also an interesting take on what I said in my post, cuz yes I said Tharn would make more sense in the medical field because his soul is one of a healer and protector but I was also kinda flirting with the mediator aspect of him, and while yes I was thinking paramedic, doctor, er nurse or plain nurse, therapist would make just so much sense too cuz like let's just think about the way Tharn interact with every suspect on this show, it's always so compassionate, understanding and full of empathy, he is just always so emotionally intelligent like more than the rest of the Scooby Doo gang (like the only other one that comes close but maybe a not Tharn level I feel might be Thongthai) Remember Art situation with his ex Kao?

Tharn had such an accurate read on the man and it wasn't only cuz of his visions, after the interrogation Phaya was like why do you think Art didn't have anything to do with Kao's disappearrence and this (!!!!) was Tharn's answer

Not only was this an accurate read on Art's very confusing emotional state, but also he knew exactly what Art was feeling not only because of his vision but because of his emotional intelligence and also

He understands Art not only because of his good read on the man but also what he is saying is like exactly what Tharn is living with Phaya, they both love each other, they know they love each other, but they cannot be together, it's why Ioved this part of Art's case, because you can literally see Tharn's emotional intelligence and make clear parallels between that case and what PhayaTharn are living

Also the fact that he immediatly ask to free Art after they find out he probably didn't cause Kao to disappear, he is the only one to do it

So yeah I think seeing Wansarut's whole character description of being a healer/a protector/a mediator, Doctor Snake might have thought he would become a therapist and put himself there to be Tharn's mentor, and he would have been right, Tharn would have made an excellent therapist (or social worker), but got fucked up because well Tharn's life kinda changed direction when his parents got murdered in that car accident, but still decided to stayed there because by that time, he was friend enough with Tharn for it to not be weird to still be there even when Tharn stopped seeing him as a therapist (this also work with the whole ahead of the game part tbh)

And helping on cop case was probably a coincidence cuz I'm not sure if he knew that Art was going to have a relapse (but again I wouldn't put it past him to have provoked that to insert himself in the cop atmosphere, Hannibal style)

[askmacan]

// Not AskMacan

Hey, thanks for all of the recent asks lately! It's very cool to see so many people interested in this silly format of interacting with the Housamo characters, and I very much enjoy playing the part of Macan and Nomad.

But lately I've been at a loss of what to say to so many asks. For many reasons, but the first being that many of them aren't relevant (which I will touch on in a second), or are a bit too inappropriate to respond to. Although I do have a content warning on this blog, it becomes hard to want to answer asks with that sort of content. And if thats the majority of the asks I'm receiving, it seems like a "give and no take" situation considering how little im putting out.

For those who don't know, I, the owner if this blog, am Grey Asexual, so I'm not particularly interested in the sexual aspect of Macan and Nomad. Yes, I do love the fact they are big titty kitties, but it's less about the gacha-ness and more about the characters' personalities and dynamic (for me at least). Macan is a crazy, loose cannon, and Nomad is a broke guy, and it's very fun. So that's mostly how I structure the jokes and replies. This is not to say I'm just completely uninterested in the dirty jokes, but "Macan and Nomad gay SEX" doesn't do it for me all the time.

The other thing I mentioned is the relevancy of the things being asked... Look I understand some people find reference humor... humorous, but I really do not. And frankly, it urks me, because if I do not understand the reference, I have nothing to say. If other people don't understand the reference, they gain nothing from the joke. And, even if I do understand the reference, I will still lack any kind of way to write a joke, or even an interesting observation. Reference humor is only enjoyable for people who both enjoy and know about the refence. Considering this fandom is small, there's not a lot of circling culture for the benefit of a well-written refence joke, other than that what Housamo provides. And Housamo in of itself is not a very quotable/easily quoted piece of storytelling 🫠

All of this is to say without questions that "strike the rock" so-to-speak, I don't have much to comment, and I'm sorry but lmao this isn't an easy thing to keep up 😅

No, it's no ones job to feed this blog content, and it is not your job to change the questions you want to ask. Just keep in mind without a relevant question pertaining to these characters in this world, there is not much interesting dialog that can come from it. Maybe you'd love to know about how Nomad feels about Black Ops, but like... I don't know anything about it and neither does he, so what am I supposed to write? (Non-specific example.)

[despairforme]

Please please please could you tell us about OP verse with Nnoi?))) It seems so cool but I can find only treads and not some... lore? specifically about your muse

[ ;O; // OH thank you very much for taking interest in Nnoitra's One Piece verse! Fun fact is that this blog was originally made with only an OP verse, because that was the fandom I used to write in (my first rp blogs were OP blogs). I'm sorry I haven't made his verse info more accessible! :O I'll make it accessible on mobile when I have time. All verse info can be viewed on my blog (desktop only), on the "About/Verses" star. Nnoitra's OP verse is called BLOOD & THE MOON.

Here is the lore/backstory for his verse! -

Nnoitra was born on a desert-island in South Blue. His hometown was very small one, the kind where everyone knows everyone. He lived there with his parents, and his older brother, Shinji.

This particular island had a reputation of producing strong fighters, who often turned out to be either marines, pirates, bounty-hunters or warriors.

Already as a child, it was clear that Nnoitra had a talent far exceeding anyone else’s. He towered over the other children with more than a head, and even his older brother was shorter than him.

At fourteen, nobody could beat him at anything.

This didn’t make him happy, on the contrary. He wanted to become stronger and stronger, until his name reached the heavens. But nobody on the island could teach him anything more than what he already knew. So, how was he to improve?

For a couple of years, Nnoitra walked around with the thought of leaving his home town. But he did love his parents and his brother, and if possible, he would like to stay with them.

It was around this time that the marines began to see an interest in Nnoitra. Even though he was just a young teenager, they thought he had potential. Since this island often bred good marines, it was only natural that they kept an eye out.

Late one night, a wounded sorcerer arrived at the island. The townsfolk thought he was just a silly old man who could do some magic-tricks, and Nnoitra would’ve thought so too, if the man hadn’t asked him: “Do you want to become stronger?” Of course, Nnoitra’s answer to this was “Yes!”.

And so, the old man sat up a campfire a little out of town, and brought Nnoitra there. This was where Nnoitra traded part of his soul for powers. Nnoitra felt a sharp pain in his head, and a cold sensation, like half his head was filled with snow.

Trading part of his soul allowed Nnoitra to gain physical abilities way beyond his dreams. He was now able to use Rokushiki perfectly. The most special ability he gained was his Tekkai, because he doesn’t need to stand still to use it.

Who did he trade his soul with? He traded them with the god of Despair. So, he gained physical abilities, and had to give up a part of his soul, and his left eye. After this, he had a hole in his head, which he was quick to hide with the big eyepatch he currently wears.

What Nnoitra didn’t know, was that this old sorcerer was in fact a wanted man, who had been hunted by the marines for decades. And they caught on to him. Soon, battleships were closing in on the little island. The people in the village quickly figured out that the sudden attack on their island had to be connected to the mysterious, old man showing up. And they wanted to give him up to the marines. But Nnoitra refused, of course he did. This man had allowed him to grow even stronger, and turning him in to the government was something only a coward would do. He had a big fight with his parents and brother, and the rest of the town about this matter.

In the end, he decided to try and help the sorcerer off the island. He left the village, and together with the old man, they headed to the other side of the island to find a boat. He did manage to send him off, and he has never seen him since.

When he returned to the village, everything was chaos. All the houses burnt down, and everyone. Everyone was dead. He dug the bullets out of his brother’s body, but it was too late.

Of course, Nnoitra blamed himself for this, why wouldn’t he? And truly, it was his fault, though, he didn’t know that. For the first time in his life, he wanted to die.

What he didn’t know, was that this was a gift to him. A gift from the God of Despair. Since he lacked part of his soul, the God thought it only proper that it should be replaced with Despair. Even today, Nnoitra has not gotten rid of the Despair he felt that day.

Nnoitra has learned to live with Despair, and it has become an important part of him.

Nnoitra didn’t kill himself that day, but he was stuck with a deathwish. Deep down, Nnoitra still wants to die.

He left the island shortly after everyone was dead, and he headed straight for the Grand Line. He did what he had to survive. But, during his travels, his heart grew heavy, and the guild tried to eat him up.

On a desert island, which reminded him very much of his home, he decided to end it. He picked up his knife (at that time was always carrying a knife and a sword), and placed it over his heart. As the blade pierced his skin, it disappeared, and a person appeared in front of him. The person looked to be made out of pure darkness. He couldn’t tell if it was male or female, human or not. It didn’t say anything, it just dragged Nnoitra forcefully to his feet, and put its hand on his bleeding chest, stopping the blood. And then, it turned into a huge weapon. The Santa Teresa he carries around today.

That was the first and final time Nnoitra tried to kill himself. He didn’t want that kind of pathetic death. He didn’t want to die by his own hand. No. A strong fighter like himself should die in a battle. He should fight ‘til the death. That was how he wanted his life to end, and it still is. For years, Nnoitra travelled the Grand Line, and mostly specialised in bounty hunting, but he soon grew bored with that.

After having seen a lot of the world, he was convinced that the strongest people were pirates, and so, he wished to become one himself. He is now on the lookout for a strong crew he can join, so that he might enjoy tougher battles, and finally... Find someone stronger than him, who can end it all. ]

[macncherries]

Full grown white man typing an essay over why he's not racist. Jesus Christ

You are white. You are not a person of color. Please listen to brown and black people instead of talking over them.

Hello again! I assume this is the same Anon as before (i apologize if not.) Sorry for any confusion, i was not writing "an essay" on why i was not racist. I was outlining the new and old terminology i have used for clarification purposes! I thought you had made an innocent mistake. I understand that There is an answer under the cut. I do not feel it fair to subject my followers to an Anon consistently clinging to my ask-box, on a concept they do not care to understand, in motivation purely to perpetuate irrelevant, melodramatic conversations.

For everyone else, thank you for sticking around! I know its been mostly text posts from me lately >_< theres more Labru art on the way!! Im also planning on doing kinktober for Labru!!! please stay tuned!

I actually did not even know you were even attempting to call me racist. I thought you were confused on the difference between "race science" and anthropology. I assume you are young, or uneducated about more niche sciences (which is okay) but i dont think its right to call someone racist for having a special interest in something you do not understand. And for something you likely did not fully read. It is not appropriate for you to lightly throw around accusations like that. Especially without proper commitment, research, or evidence Considering youre calling it "an essay" at a measly 544 words, i can safely assume you also did not bother to read the full thread(s) of reblogs your comment originates from. 544 words is not even considered an essay in college. Im required to write that much for a discussion post. Regardless, I can also assume this to be the case because the person who originates that thread (whom i outwardly agreed with, amplified, and was newly informed by) is POC. I dont feel comfortable depending on that aspect any further though, because i dont know OP personally, and wouldnt feel comfortable roping them into anything.

And i am white, im not hiding that fact, so im not sure why youre using it as a "gotcha" moment. I am a person who cares deeply about ethnically accurate features, cultural implications, skeletal anatomy, and anthropology. I care about being accurate to characters ethnic backgrounds, whether canon or implied. White people can do that. Its better for white people to do that, rather than be racially ignorant.

And, by extension, I am listening to people of all ethnicities. Especially POC. I am not speaking over anyone, and am only adding my own commentary. More importantly; no one else, not white, not POC, has spoken against it. So i physically am unable to speak over anyone.

More importantly though, i have talked to, and received input from POC already. Thank you for your concern. I have received input that what information i put out there did help people. People from everywhere. It was so very beautiful to hear. I saw multiple people both here and elsewhere appreciate the research i did. That was so heartening. And so despite this whole text post, i also want to thank anyone who contributed, reblogged, liked, just appreciated, or talked to me in reference to those original posts.

All contributions to the reblog thread had an overarching theme, and since you didnt read it all, i dont blame you for not knowing. That is; assessing the best, most accurate, possible way to portray Kabru and Thistles ethnic ambiguity. I go very much in depth as to how achieve that, as well as where i specifically find Kabru to most likely originate from in comparison to our own worlds culture and geography. I use anthropological and facial-anatomical evidence to support that. The evidence i use is not related to "race science" or anything similarly grotesque. The implication that "race science" is at all similar to anthropology is a disservice to everyone who studies it, professionally or otherwise. Anthropology inherently acknowledges that each ethnicity is different, and that those differences should be demystified and honoured. For the purpose of integration, ethnic appreciation, and antidiscrimination.

You are of the opinion that commemoration and study of different ethnicities is racism. Why you believe that is beyond me, but nonetheless, what you are insinuating is the equivalent of saying "i dont see race". I hope i do not have to point out the issue there...

You will also likely not read the entirety of this, either. It is unfortunately 820 words, which is beyond your limit. That is okay. Im here to tell everyone else that your background and culture is deeply appreciated. If it were within my capabilities, i would love to speak to every one of you and represent you within someone you hold dearly. That is my goal. I hope to continue upholding that with my art. I hope to continue doing thorough research to help aid peoples solidarity and interest in characters.

[blueberry-writer]

hiyaaa sjdjdjf dont mind me keeping requesting for the doa, i really like them and your headcanons <3

I'd like to request platonic headcanons for nikolai, fyodor, and sigma like interacting with/reacting to learning that nikolai had a kid sister (the reader)

Notes:heyy! :D It’s okey, i love writing requests for the doa! Anyway.. i founded this request so cute!💙 Oh and sorry if i’m late, I had to post your request last night but then came the bsd trailer and I couldn’t resist the temptation to watch it and make me simp about the fact that Nikolai was finally animated!😥i mean, NIKOLAI IS SO GOD DAMN FINE. 😩🙏

TW/CONTENT: sfw, fem!reader, Fyodor and Sigma interacting with the reader as nikolai young sister, platonic ‘relationship’

Sigma

at first he was quite surprised that Nikolai could have a younger sister

If it wasn’t for Nikolai talking about you all the time, he probably wouldn’t have even suspected he had a little sister

The first time you met was a bit..particular:Nikolai had a night mission with Fyodor and just didn’t want to leave you home alone. God forbid anything bad ever happens to you... or you mess something or someone up, without him. I believe in Nikolai and his little sister creating problems together supremacy

Now a quiz! Guess who was the only reliable person Nikolai could trust at that moment to leave his lovely little sister in his hands? That’s right! Sigma.

At first Sigma was not inclined to babysit you but in one way or another Nikolai convinced him

One has to admit that at first there was embarrassment, Sigma is not very good with children.

'I am the menager of a major casino, not a babysitter! I swear as soon as I see Nikolai- '

".... Oh- hem-...  Do you want cookies?." That was the first sentence he said to you after a strangely awkward moments of silence.

The situation is improving little by little. Go from monosyllabic answers to answers with whole sentences, laughter, and a few lines.

You spent the night getting Sigma to teach you how to play cards and to hear stories from Sigma about his, Nikolai’s and Fyodor’s missions.

As soon as you fell asleep sigma’s heart melted, you were so pretty!!

He can’t believe that a lovely little girl like you is related to an annoying, crazy guy like Nikolai

Once the mission ended, of course, Nikolai came back to pick you up early in the morning. You were still sleeping, so he used his cape as a blanket and picked you up

Sigma was kind of sad to let you go and not even say goodbye

"As soon as she wakes up, tell her I said hello, okey?"

Since that morning, he’s offered to babysit you every time Nikolai had a night mission to do.

Let’s also say that, after that night, you also started winning several times when you and your brother played cards

Fyodor

This man is always informed, so he would probably already know about you before Nikolai even told him about you

Every once in a while, he would ask of you just to start a conversation with Kolia: "So, how is your little sister?" Thanks to Nikolai’s gab, he found out things about you that he wasn’t even interested in knowing truthfully, but hey, better more information than less

He never planned to meet you but ops! one day Nikolai had urgent things to do and Fyodor was the only one available, even if against his initial will, to take care of you:

"Hey Dos-kun! Listen, I have an urgent duty, can you watch my little sister while I’m gone?"

"Nikolai, I don’t have t-"

"Thank you, I knew I could count on you Dos-kun!! take care of Y/N byeee!"

And that’s how you were left alone with Fyodor.

At the beginning there was an unnerving silence, the only noise that was heard was that of Fyodor’s fingers writing on the computer keyboard

At first you were silent, without making any noise, after all Fyodor can have a threatening aura from time to time.

After a while, however, you remembered that he was your brother’s dearest friend, your young infant brain thought to make friends with him

You started asking them questions with a fairly confident voice

Fyodor was a little surprised, usually children are afraid of him, why with you is different? but then he remembered that after all you’re related to Nikolai

After starting a decent conversation with you he realized that he would not be able to continue his work if you kept talking to him, so he decided to put the pc aside for a moment

He was strangely happy that a child is not afraid of him

He was surprised when after he smiled at you, you smiled back and didn’t cry or tremble with fear

When you started asking questions about his work, however, he had to stop you, better that a child does not know these things: "I will tell you when you are older mh?"

When you asked him about his bookstore and what kind of books they were, he was more than happy to explain it to you.

You spent the rest of your time with him reading you a book while you listened to him with admiration and attention. (childhood crush??🤔)

But then your brother came back for you

You were sad, at least you wanted Fyodor to finish reading the story!

Unfortunately, Nikolai said that he was so tired and that you had to go home.

You took Nikolai’s hand as you walked away from Fyodor "Bye-bye." You greeted him with a sad tone of voice

"Ow sunshine, so you make me feel guilty though!" Nikolai said to you being a drama queen.

"Don’t worry, Nikolai, I’ll finish reading the story next time we meet," Fyodor replied

'next time'? so there will be a next time!! You were so happy to hear those words!

You turned to Fyodor: "S-so, are we friends now Mr. Dostoevskij?"

"Of course we are malýshka, and please call me Fyodor." He answered, crouching at your height and stroking your head

Aw, you were so happy and adorable in that moment, even Fyodor’s heart could have melted!😭

Nikolai in all this was amazed at how the situation had evolved between the two of you- it almost seemed that you 'loved' Fyodor more than him:

"i’m sorry Dos-kun but she’s my sister.😁💢"

"I know, I was just waving"

"Then can you try not to steal her from me? You know, I could commit a homicide-"

"Nikolai! not in front of the child."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ That's it! i hope you liked it!💙💙

sooo,i made a pt.2 of this! here 💙

[the-sappho-of-lesbos]

op could it be that because you're so conflicted about your lesbianism, when you don't get your other social needs met, it feels like the easy-to-blame candidate for your problems? bc i mean realistically--and i mean this respectfully--your orientation is only likely to come up in your pursuit of romantic & sexual relationships (are you, love interest, into lesbians or aren't you?) and/or figuring out who your people are, but even then, that's just checking a box on the "are you cool with gay people or not?" box so you can know youre safe with them. it sounds to me like youre conflating two different stressful issues. also, are you actually making progress with your therapist/psychologist? have you considered doing DBT or CBT to manage your social anxieties? both are very "building skills" focused, whether it be coping skills or learning how to manage your relationships & start new ones. would highly recommend it. as a person who used to have near rapid c-ptsd, hella anxiety, depression, OCD, etc., learning how-tos essentially on how to do people things was a HUGE relief for my brain, helped me feel more normal and adequately assess what was going on in the social realm and then correct behavior or assess more accurately dynamics. i am also another lesbian, if that helps you contextualize what i'm saying.

(Sorry in advance of these weren’t all your asks - they just sounded like they were from the same question to me)

Thank you for taking the time to reach out and write this out for me. Your concern is really appreciated and you have a wonderfully kind heart 💕 I’ll try to answer each of these in parts. But I have to apologise in advance because while you bring up some wonderful points and ask a lot of good questions I’m worried I won’t be able to answer them properly- so I’m really sorry.

1) I think I conflate the two because in my personal experience they go hand in hand. Be it people I’ve tried to date, the lgbt community as a whole, or just friends (straight or lgbt) I’ve run into problems with my sexuality. It probably has made me paranoid and I’m definitely trying to work on it. But in all types of relationships in my life I have met a lot of hostility towards my sexuality. Or if not hostility then just loneliness or lack of people in that role.

2) I don’t know if I’m making progress. I would like to think I am but I guess this blog within itself is reason enough to point that maybe I haven’t. I think I have a lot of different things to unpack and while I’m trying the best that I can I’m probably not making as much progress as I should at this point. But I’ll try as hard as I can to communicate this with the mental health professionals in my life and hopefully we can work something out. ☺️🌻

3) I think you are very right! I’m very on edge and triggered and stressed lately so I’m sure that’s contributing to the whole spiral down. Thank you very much for the suggestion! Once I’m done answering things on here I’ll splash myself with some cold water. Hopefully that calms my brain down a bit

4) I feel like I don’t know what to say here other then agree ahaha. I have a horribly small window of tolerance. I’ve been trying to work on it for years with my psychologists but I don’t think it’s gotten much better. It’s like I’m waiting for proof that it’s okay to open up. I think in some areas I’ve improved (like with food) but sexuality is such a raw nerve for me a lot of the time that I don’t really know how to deal with that yet. But I really hope to get there one day :)

5) I feel like I genuinely can’t apologise enough to those of you who have been affected by my venting posts. It was wholeheartedly never my intention to trigger anyone or upset anyone or make anyone unhappy with their sexuality. I don’t have people I feel like I can talk to about this stuff irl - and even if I did I wouldn’t want to be dumping this on them all the time. But I can see it’s affecting a lot of people on here two. I would recommend for those who are hurt to unfollow me , or for me to just say it’s okay to unfollow me and walk away , it’s okay to prioritise yourself. But I need to take accountability for the pain I’ve caused too. I might just hop off tumblr for a couple of days so I’m not posting anything that’s upsetting anyone. I think it was ignorant of me to expect my TW to be enough and I should have been more aware of the larger number of people following me and not put those types of vents on their feed. So I am truly sorry for anyone I have upset and triggered. I promise to try better.

I would put my posts under the read more thing but I’m on my phone via the app when I use tumblr and I genuinely cannot figure out how to do it. I’ll look into it more though and try to work it out so I can make it a safer place for people.

Thank you again so so so much for taking the time to write this all out for me and give me your support and guidance. It really means an awful lot. I hope you have a really lovely day 💕💕💕🌻

[yespolkadotkitty]

So I read Elixir and I love how you write sex pollen and I was wondering if you could do one for our other federal agent, Marcus?

Jump Start

Warnings: smut. A lot of smut. Unbeta’d writing; soft Marcus. 

Words: 3,500

Summary: What if Marcus only went to DC for a while? And what if he came back for you?

Marcus: Still game for tonight?

You: Are you kidding? Cho and Lisbon have bigged up that Aladdin’s Cave for months. I’ll be there.

Marcus: You sure this is what you want for your birthday?

You: Yes.

Marcus: Okay then… Bring a pillow because I’ll probably bore you to sleep with all the art stories.

When the elevator doors part to reveal Agent Marcus Pike, you’re standing by the door to the lock-up. A smile lights up his face when he sees you, and your heart bumps hard in your chest. He slides his hands in his pocket, a blush creeping up his neck.

“Happy birthday.”

“Thanks, Marcus.”

He ducks his head, a little shy. You know he isn’t always. You’d seen him in the interview room a few times last year, when your team and his had co-run a case. Watched his eyes go hard, his face stern. He’d slammed a file down on the desk inches from a suspect’s face and the surprisingly rough side to him had made you shiver.

Lisbon had sent you a knowing look and you’d ignored her.

She’d had her chance and she’d blown it, and frankly you didn’t want to know what she and Marcus had shared; how close they’d been.

Marcus had gone to DC after that. A year’s undercover work has helped him heal, you think. Get his head back in the game.

He came back for another co-op case, and thankfully, Lisbon and Jane had been away on honeymoon then.

You and Marcus had worked this one together, sometimes late into the night, sharing take-out and anecdotes from other old cases, and then, you’d started hanging out, a little.

He’s interesting. Funny. Friendly. Panty-melting gorgeous.

Heart-stoppingly gorgeous.

Cho dropped that it was your birthday at last week’s after-work drinks, and then Marcus had texted offering you a tour of the art lock up. You’d been rota’d off the day Cho and Lisbon got to see it, last year.

Patrick Jane hadn’t been allowed in. Marcus had muttered something about sticky fingers when you’d asked him about it.

“You ready?” He ducks his head to buss your cheek and you meet him halfway, breathing him in, minty gum, sandalwood, and the gourmet coffee he hides in his office. He shared it with you once and it’s like him, memorable, decadent, addictive.

“Ready.” You pull away, reluctantly, wanting him, but he’s never given you any overt hints that he sees you as anything more than a colleague.

He and Lisbon are cordial to each other when they meet, but for all you know, he’s still pining over her.

You daren’t ask; you don’t want to know the answer.

Marcus punches in a code to the first gate, then plucks the rings of keys from his pocket and opens the dinner door of the lock-up, a smile playing on his scruffy face. He grew the patchy beard during his time in DC and it really suits him, highlights his beautiful jaw and makes his soulful eyes a deeper brown.

This time on a Saturday, no one else is around.

“A private museum,” you breathe as you see all the paintings, sculptures and other art set carefully in frames or on desks or custom made plinths.

“Yeah, I always feel like Aladdin.” He scoffs at himself. “I say that every time. What a dork.”

You turn and grin at him. “I like it. You’re an art geek. It’s sexy.” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them.

Marcus’ brow wings up. “That so?”

“Um, sure.” You duck your head, embarrassed. “So. Tell me some art stories,  Special Agent Pike. What’s new here?”

He brightens, soulful chocolate eyes going wide for just a moment. “Well. There’s this equine sculpture. Maker’s mark is Italian but we seized it during a raid for paintings. Wasn’t expecting it.” He snaps on white gloves and offers you a pair, then gently turns over the statue to show you the swirling signature on the bottom. “We’re still not sure where the other two are.”

You trace a gloved finger over the horse’s detailed mane, wrought perfectly in cherrywood. “Other two?

“Sure. This is part of a set. You can tell here-” he points out a divot in the base that you wouldn’t even have noticed, and another on the opposite end. “And here. The two connecting statues are missing - other horses, I’d guess.”

“Wow.”

Marcus sets the horse down and meets your gaze. “You bored yet?”

“Nope! More!”

He chuckles indulgently. “Okay. Why don’t you choose.”

You wander around the various lock-up cages for a while, examining instruments, more statues, even a huge quilt that looks woven with gold.

After a few moments, a painting about your height catches your eye. It’s an orgy, but tastefully done, painted in shades of amber and gold, the bodies fluid, enchanting.

“I’ve never seen such a… soft depiction of a group bang,” you smile.

Marcus’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “That came in last week. Rumour has it, the artist was quite the lothario back in the 1800s. A steady stream of, ah, callers to his penthouse in Florence. The accounts of his sexual prowess are something else.”

“I bet.” You eye the curves of the women in the painting; she looks soft, welcoming, her eyes closed in ethereal bliss. “So, how’d you get this?”

“Allegedly, found in an attic. We went to the house to pick it up. The man who gave it to me - said they just moved in - seemed kinda high.” Marcus’ brow furrows. “Very mellow. Pretty sure he’d been smoking something. He was half-dressed.”

You crouch, examine the painting more closely. “And you didn’t… arrest him?”

Marcus shrugs. “Art’s our deal. I did note the address with a colleague in the DEA, so if it gets flagged again, they’ll investigate.”

Something about the painting keeps you enraptured. You spy a little notch in the frame. “Do you think something’s hidden in here?”

Marcus bends next to you to examine the area you point to. He’s been working today, so he still wears his suit, the red tie the little bit of flash he allows himself on the job. His scent weaves around you, the lick of coffee, the gasp of mint, and something uniquely Marcus.

“It looks like something…. Comes undone?”

You both lean in together, and you edge your gloved finger along the groove in the ornate gold-effect frame.

Marcus does the same from the other end. “Wow,” he breathes. “A hidden compartment?” Then his eyebrows shoot up as part of the frame depresses under his finger, clicking. He grins hugely. “Well, now I really do feel like Aladdin.”

“Don’t suppose you’ve got a little monkey wearing a fez around here, do you?” You tease.

“Maybe a magic carpet. I-”

He’s cut off when a hissing noise pops from the painting. You and Marcus both lean in to try and hear it more closely, and just when you get close, powder sprays from the frame, light gold in colour and smelling faintly musty.

You cough, reeling back, your hands over your face. “Gross.”

Marcus steps back too, wiping a gloved hand over his face and examining the golden-hued powder on the cotton fabric. “What the hell-”

You slowly sit down on the floor. “I feel… sort of dizzy. Hot.”

Marcus crosses to you, crouching in front of you, and if you didn’t feel so discombobulated, you would appreciate the closeness of him, the amber shot through his irises, the slight curl of his cowlick. “I’ll go get help. Maybe some water?”

You’re burning up. A slow dance starts in the pit of your belly, something that you think was always there, maybe, but intensified now Marcus is so close. “Please don’t go.”

His brow furrows in concern. “Of course.” He smoothes a gloved hand over your hair, and then you see it; the change in his eyes, the way they go dark and hot. “I… what the fuck is this stuff? I feel…”

You clutch at his forearms, feeling the play of lean muscle under his suit. “What if…. What if this was the reason that painter was such a, um, lothario?”

Marcus’ gaze has dropped to your mouth and at your words, he blinks. “What? Oh. Oh.”

“Yeah,” you say slowly. “Marcus, I…”

He stands up, backing away. “I can’t be near you. Not when I want… I can’t.”

You reach out to him. “What if you stayed?”

He gazes down at you, longing in those bottomless eyes, and now you can clearly see the outline of the powder’s effect on him. “I can’t. Can’t do that to you.”

A flash of hope pierces the haze descending on you. “You want to? Because of the.. Stuff,” you finish lamely.

An expression of half desire, half pain, sketches itself over Marcus’ features. “I’ve wanted to for a while. That night we worked late.” He’s half-panting now, the fingers of one hand curled around the wall of his side of the lock-up. “Wanted to take you over the desk. I - fuck- can’t do it.”

You make to move. “Marcus-”

“Not like this,” he groans, that voice of sin and sex dropping half an octave, California with a lick of the drawl of Texas. “Not… like this.”

“Don’t go!” You beg. Your insides are burning up for him. If he’d just touch you. Just for a moment.

Marcus is shaking his head, fumbling with the door on this section of the lock-up. You lunge for him but he pulls the door closed, locking you in and him out.

He turns the key, then tosses the ring across the room.

“I’m sorry. I can’t. Not like this. Goes against everything.”

“But I want you,” you say. You crawl over to the fencing separating you. “At least… touch my hand.”

You pull your gloves off, slide your fingers through the holes in the mesh.

Marcus takes his gloves off too, tangles his fingers with your the best he can. He sighs deeply. “I had this whole date thing planned. Dinner at an Italian that reminds me of a place I ate at in my gap year.”

“Marcus,” you whisper. “So you do really like me.”

He groans. “Sweetheart, I haven’t been able to think about anything but you since I got back from DC, and there you were, pretty as a picture, working late with me, sharing Chinese food. Making me laugh.”

You swallow, wanting him so badly it hurts. Every inch of you burns for him.

“I wanted to go slow,” he rasps out. “I know I jump in. Get overexcited. But with you.. I wanted to do it right. Fuck.” With his free hand he, almost unconsciously, palms himself through his suit pants, his eyes rolling back. “What the hell is this drug?”

You hungrily follow the path of his hand with your gaze. “Lothario, remember?”

“I remember.” Marcus groans, pressing the heel of his hand against his erection. He’s sitting awkwardly. “Bastard.”

“Marcus.” You squeeze his hand. “I want this. I want you. It’s lonely up on that white horse.”

He shakes his head, vehement. “It’s….not… not right.”

You press against the caging and just the pressure of the mesh on your breasts makes you moan. “So I can’t touch you, and you won’t touch me, but you also won’t leave me.” You watch him squeeze his eyes shut, look at the tent in his suit pants. “Touch yourself.”

His eyes pop open. “What?”

“If you won’t leave and you won’t… give in to whatever this is, although I want you more than I’ve wanted any man, ever…. Let me see you.”

A bead of sweat rolls down his forehead as he looks at you, big brown eyes considering. He’s weighing every option. Marcus is thoughtful, considered. Considerate. He always thinks two steps ahead, encompasses everyone in plans and strategies.

But he’s blindsided by this, and you can’t say it isn’t sexy as hell to see him unravel this way.

“Please,” you add, holding his gaze.

He squeezes your fingers and the air changes between you, and then he leans heavily against the mesh and you take the opportunity to stroke his hair, a little, and it’s so soft. Feels like silk, and you have to touch more of him, but maybe you’ll get to at least see more, so you will your breathing to calm, just a bit, as he fumbles one-handedly with his belt buckle and then slides the zipper of his suit pants down to reveal plain grey boxers, darkened in the centre by a damp patch, and your throat is so dry.

“Have you…” your heart bumps hard, the rush of seeing new parts of Marcus making you even dizzier. “Ever gotten off in this evidence locker before?”

“Can’t say I have.” Marcus’ gaze stays on your face, earnest. “I can go. I can just go.”

“Please. Please don’t go. Come in.”

“Can’t do that.” He closes his eyes; looks like he is silently praying for the power to resist you. His fingers curl into the parted edge of his suit pants.

“Let me see you?”

He sucks in a deep breath, then exhales shakily. “This is not how I planned to seduce you. Just so you know.”

Your pulse rabbits. “You seduce me every moment, Marcus. With every sweet text. Every time you smile at me. All your art stories. When you say my name. Your voice, oh God.”

Marcus’ hand trembles as he holds your gaze through the wire mesh of the lock-up, and he finally, finally parts the opening of the plain grey boxers and draws himself out, and you just drink him in with your eyes, the shape of him, the swollen tip, his length and girth, the curling hair at his base. It looks as silky as the hair on his head and you hear yourself groan needily.

“Marcus.”

He fists himself, his gaze hot on yours. “Not how I planned this date,” he repeats. “I feel like I’m on fire for you.” He rasps out your name and you watch his hand move, and suddenly it’s too much, the heat between your legs cannot be ignored, and you shove your skirt up and mirror Marcus on the floor.

His head jerks around. “Fuck,” he hisses.

“Never knew you had such a potty mouth,” you half-gasp, half-tease.

“For you, I’ll do whatever you want with my mouth.”

You groan at that as you circle your clit with a finger.

Marcus almost growls “Underwear off, I want to see.” His voice, that voice, is gentle-rough, and you think of the day you watched him in the interview room.

“Whatever you say, Agent Pike.”

“Christ.” He’s jacking off in earnest now, his gaze riveted to you as you pull off your underwear with one hand, letting it fall wherever. Your skirt is rucked up around your hips and the fact it’s Marcus watching you is a huge turn on, but honestly you’re not sure if you could have stopped, for anything.

Your combined pants fill the space. You’ve never been so wet. When you slide two fingers inside yourself the sound is obscene.

“It’s.. a wonder..  He ever got… any painting done,” Marcus grits out.

You laugh. “Now?  You wanna talk about art now?”

He huffs. “Art is the reason we’re here. Like this.” Then he sucks in a breath and you look down at him, his balls drawn up tight, his cock wet with his own pre-come.

“Marcus Matthew Pike, I swear to God, if you don’t get in here right now, I will never ever speak to you again.”

He hesitates.

“I swear on Van Gogh’s ear,” you add, your internal muscles fluttering.

Marcus half-yanks up his pants, scrabbles for the key. The seconds feel like hours until he appears again, boxers and pants around his knees, shirt tails hanging, and he opens the mesh door and you yank him in and kiss him and you tumble to the floor together, and Marcus grabs both your wrists and pins them above you with one hand, his face dark and determined, and it makes your heart pound.

“Please,” you grate out. “Marcus. I need you.” You spread your legs and try to hook your feet over his calves, but he shakes his head.

“Not yet. Sweetheart, not yet.” He curls your fingers into the wire of the mesh. “Hold on. Don’t… don’t touch me. I wanna make it good for you, first.”

You hear yourself keen his name as he shucks off his clothes from the waist down, then slides down your body and puts that gorgeous mouth to work. Your favourite thing he did with his mouth until now was talking, but this-

Maybe he’s writing his name, maybe he’s writing a sonnet, but whatever it is, the way he curls his tongue is obscene, and you don’t know if it’s partly the drug, but when he puts two fingers inside you, you come so hard you almost black out. And then lust rears its head again and you grab for him, carding one hand through his hair and cupping him with the other, and he’s slick in your palm and the ridges and heat of his cock feel so good.

“Marcus.” You fist a hand in his hair, pull a little, and he groans and pants, and you take the opportunity to pump him in your fist until he swears under his breath.

"Condom. Oh fuck. Condom."

He hesitates, then drops a soft kiss on your lips - your first, you think, a bit giddy - and you taste yourself, and he licks into your mouth and whispers your name and it's pure, unadulterated bliss.

Then he extricates himself, rummages in his suit pants, and as soon as he has the foil square in his hand you grab for him, pulling him down on top of you.

"After this," you murmur, "you're gonna bend me over the desk." And you roll the condom down his dick and he lets out a long, slow breath and pushes inside you and it's everything.

Everything inside you quiets for a moment that stretches as he starts to move, caging you in with his braced forearms, and you look into his dark chocolate eyes and his heart is on his face, with Marcus it always is. It's your favourite thing about him.

He nibbles at your lips as you make love to eachother, and you hook your legs around his hips to stop him pulling out too much. You want him close, want to feel his skin under your hands. The buttons of his shirt rasp against your dress, and if you were more aware you might think it's ridiculous, him bringing you to orgasm with you both half dressed in the floor of the art squad lock-up, but you can't care. Not when his cock hits you right there, and then you're keening his name and he tumbles over the cliff edge with you, pressing hard in those final thrusts as your muscles milk him.

You curl around him. "Marcus."

He sighs, presses his forehead to yours. "Was that… are you okay?"

You chuckle lazily. "I've never been more okay."

He cuddles you close, nosing at your cheek, murmuring sweet nothings. "Christ, what is this stuff? I could go again."

At his words desire rears its head. "There must be a desk in here somewhere, right?"

And his eyes go hot.

And that's how you find yourself bent over a desk recovered from an abandoned shipping off, the edges intricately gilded. You cling to them as Marcus fucks you hard and fast, just the way he'd fantasised about, and it's so good that you sob his name over and over.

Afterwards he cuddles you so gently, stroking your hair as he whispers praises about how good you felt around him, how next time he's gonna give you a bed covered in rose petals.

You shake your head, kissing him deeply, helping him into his jacket. "You're all I want, Marcus. Any way I can have you."

A flush colours his cheeks as he cups your cheeks. "Dinner? Let me take you out to dinner."

"I'd rather have it in bed. Have you in bed."

His eyes go wide for a second. "The drug.."

"This isn't the drug and you know it." You loop your arms around his neck. "It just jump-started us. Never been so grateful to a horny nineteenth century painter."

Marcus laughs out loud, hugs you, then releases you to hold your hand, tug you towards the elevator. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me. You know that, right?"

Happiness unfurls slowly inside you. "I could stand to hear it again."

Tagging the Pedro pals! @soldade @beccaplaying @heatherbel @mourningbirds1 @alldatalost @songsformonkeys @agirllovespasta @nelba @chews-erotically @mrschiltoncat @gamingaquarius @alienprincesspoop @dornish-queen @lackofhonor @agentpike @jaime1110 @thegreenkid @pedropascallion   @mrsparknuts @buckstaposition @winters-buck @oloreaa @mstgsmy @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @holographic-carmen @cryptkeepersoul @alwaysbethewest @poenariuniverse @starlight-starwrites @keeper0fthestars @alwaysbethewest @kindablackenedsuperhero @abuttoncalledsmalls @f0rever15elf

And @arch-venus25 did you wanna be tagged in Pedro stuff?

[procrastination-queenie]

Still with you || JJK

Pairing: scientist!au husband!au Jungkook x scientist!au wife!au reader.

Synopsis: you were going on about with your boring life until you accidentally meet unexpected guests. Was it accidental though?

Warning: slight angst, the reader has a bad relationship with her parents, one sexual reference, kissing, long-haired Jungkook😂, few swear words, I don't think there's anything else.

Word count: 3k

A/N: italics are the reader's future-self talking.

This is loosely based on a tiktok video I saw on Pinterest.

You puffed, kicking a pebble that was by your feet as you waited for your driver to pick you up from school. You honestly wanted nothing other than going back to disappear in your room for the rest of day. Why you may wonder! Well, you got an A- on your latest exam, and you know how your parents are going to react. To them, you either get an A+, or you're a failure. They want you to become a lawyer like them, and take over their law firm after your graduation. Your whole life has been planned out before your birth; an arranged marriage took place between your mother and father, to merge the most famous two law firms in the country. Now, your family owns the biggest law firm in the country leaving you with no options other than having your whole life planned out for you without getting a say in it. What was expected from you is to excel in your studies, go to the most prestigious university then run your family's firm. Life really sucked, and you were only sixteen years old.

"Good afternoon, Miss. Hope I am not late!" Your driver, Richard, said interrupting your thoughts as he opened the door for you.

You shook your head with slumped shoulders, "No Richard, you're always on time," you said getting in the car, but not before you could feel his gaze that was full of pity.

It was nothing new, the whole staff that worked for your family knew what you were going through, and while many may envy you and the position that you hold within the society, the staff knew better than to think in such a superficial way.

"Young lady, I thought we made it clear concerning your grades! An A-? Seriously?" Your birth-giver whom you haven't seen for the last 6 month, slammed your report card onto the counter as she looked down on you as if you were a disgrace to the family. You sighed heavily in response wanting nothing other than to disappear in your room, nothing seemed to satisfy your parents; it's like you only become visible when grades are brought up, other than that they barely notice your existence. "I am sorry, what was that?" She asked hearing your sigh as she raised her perfectly shaped eyebrow at you daring you to defy her. Sometimes you wondered why did she treat you like that, why was there so much hatred in her tone. You would sometimes think that she hated that her life was planned out for her as well, so she takes it out on you.

"Nothing," you answered quietly, wanting to get this one-sided conversation over with. "Thought so. Go to your room. I don't want to see you for the rest of the night," she said, jaw clenching as she pointed towards your room upstairs.

"And when do you ever want to see me!" You muttered quietly under your breath as you made your way towards Your room.

As you neared your room down the hall, you heard voices from inside, making you wonder who could be in your room, seeing that the maids usually clean it after you leave for school in the early morning. Nearing the door, you tried to be as quiet as possible to eavesdrop. "Jungkook be quiet, and stop fussing!" You heard a girl's voice say. Her voice was somehow familiar, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it. "Sorry babe, I didn't know you used to live in such a luxurious house," this Jungkook guy, you assumed, answered back chuckling.

What? Who lives here other than your family? And used to live? What does he mean? Who are these people?

You suddenly entered your room to see two people ,just as you suspected, looking back at you as if they were not expecting you at all. "Shit! When did you set the machine, Jungkook?" The girl standing not far away from the guy asked with a clenched jaw. "Ops!" He replied looking back at her. "Seriously, Jungkook? Are you kidding me? That's when I arrive from school! I told you we need to do this before I arrive!" She whined as she hit his arm lightly. "Hey, at least the machine works!" He shrugged biting his bottom lip. "Yeah, you're right," she said calming down a bit.

You kept looking back and forth between them, backing up very slowly to get out of the room and call the police. Apparently, these two are crazy and you need to call for help. "Get back here missy, you are not going anywhere," the girl said looking at you with a glint in her eyes daring you to take one more step away from them. "Look, I don't want you to panic. We are not here to do anything bad. I promise, but knowing how you are, you probably don't believe me, so I am very sorry because of what we are about to do!" She said sincerely making you panic even more. Suddenly the guy came towards you and lifted you over his shoulder. Welp, this is it, you're going to die, your parents are probably going to be mad for the lack of an heir to their firm, but whatever! "W-what are going to do?" You panicked even more hitting this Jungkook guy to let you down. "Don't worry, we are tying you up, so you won't go anywhere and expose us which will lead to many complications and malfunctions that nor you neither do I need to happen. We've worked so hard to reach this point." She said tying you up with your jumping rope which you didn't know how she found since you keep it hidden in your closet. She oddly seemed to know her way around the room which was very confusing, have these people been watching you for some time?

She sighed in relief after she tied you up as she leaned back to sit directly in front of you. "Don't you recognise me?" She asked looking at you smiling as if she's your long lost sister and that knowing who she is will bring you immense joy. You looked her up and down, tilting your head to the side when it suddenly kicks in your head, she looks very familiar, how could you miss it. She looks exactly like you but older. She looked exactly like how you envisioned yourself to be ONLY if you possessed the freedom to do what you want. "Are you... No, it couldn't be!" You said shaking your head. You're hallucinating, you're sure of it. "I know, right? But it's true … I am you, but 10 years older." You looked her up and down, again. She looked totally different from you right now. Carefree is the keyword. She looks like she doesn't have a care in the world, she's also sporting a style that you have always wanted to try. "W-wha- .. h-how is this possible?" If you were panicking a few moments ago, now you were on the verge of freaking out. Have you gone mad? Is this a dream? It must be! I mean your whole life you're struggling to fight your parents and become what you want to be, but this is absolutely NUTS! It must be the stress taking a toll on you, must be!

"Oh, it's a long story," your older self chuckled as if this situation was funny. It kinda is, if you were in her shoe it would probably be funny to you. You looked to your left side, eyeing the guy standing next to you who was looking around your room with so much interest. Your older self inspecting you as you eyed Jungkook, chuckling again silently knowing how curious you are. "Who is he?" You blurted out looking at him in disapproval. Jungkook suddenly stopped looking around and looked at you smiling and waving at you with his left hand. "Oh, hi I am Jungkook," A silver ring on his left hand caught your eyes, you involuntarily looked at your older self, searching her left hand, but you didn't need to look for so long because a diamond ring glinted back at you, as if telling you yup I am here to confirm your doubts. You suddenly gasped as you looked between them, Jungkook flinched in surprise as your older self smirked at you. "You figured it out, didn't you?" she said amusement dancing in her eyes. "He's your husband!" Your face scrunched in disgust. "Our husband," she corrected you leaning back on her palms still looking at you in amusement. "Ew! No!" You said looking at him again with disapproval. "Now, I am offended," Jungkook said feigning sadness, placing his hand over his chest. "Your hair is so long!" You pointed out, tilting your head to the side. "Thank you!" He beamed at you happy that something about him appealed to you. "That wasn't a compliment, don't flatter yourself," you answered back glaring at him. Jungkook pouted looking back at your older self for help "Well, believe it or not, you'll come to love everything about him even if he dyes his hair red," your older self averted your attention from your supposed future husband towards her. She looked at Jungkook with a smirk; however, you could feel the love in her eyes. You could tell that she really loved him as her smirk eased into a soft loving look making you wonder what did Jungkook do to deserve your love.

A few minutes passed as Jungkook and your older self swiped places, Jungkook sat in front of you making sure that you don't try and break free to run away as your older self kept looking for something around your room. "You have so many tattoos, are you a criminal?" You questioned grumpily. You heard your older self chuckle behind you as she looked at the calendar on your desk. Jungkook's big doe eyes, which you suspected were your older self's weakness since it's already making you feel things, looked at you trying to find a suitable answer. "Umm, well I've never done anything illegal," he said. "Intentionally," he added gulping when you kept your piercing gaze upon him. His eyes looked upwards toward the left side which according to what you've read in the science of body language indicated that he was probably remembering the illegal thing that he has done. Sighing, you tried to take it easy upon him since he was starting to get more uncomfortable under your gaze.

"What's your job?" You asked as your legs swayed the chair, you were tied to, right and left. The situation was starting to become really funny to you; you were tied up like you were going to be tortured for some information that you possess; however, it seems like the roles are reversed seeing that you were swaying the chair as you kept interrogating your future husband. He hummed, scratching the side of his neck with his lips pursed and his right eye closed, "I don't know how to tell you this, but we kinda lost our job," he said calmly, big doe eyes staring back at you as a small smile made its way onto his handsome features. "What do you mean WE? you lost your job!" You stopped swaying the chair, an act that showed that you were trying to process the information. "Nah, we as in me and you," he said still looking at you as if he was telling you something totally normal like how the sun sets from the west. "Yeah, we work together and we kinda got fired," your older self said as she stood next to you resting her hand on the back of your chair. "What do you mean kinda got fired? What do you guys do?" You asked looking up at her. "Hmm, … we're scientists." She said looking back down on you. "Wait, what? You're not running our law firm?" You turned the chair suddenly making her remove her hand from the back of it. "Nah, dude we are not going through this bullshit that our parents planned out for us." She said shaking her heading with a pure look of repugnance on her face. "W-why did you get fired, then ?" You asked trying to understand more. "Well, you see me and Jungkook were developing a time machine, you know how many novels predicted the occurrence of such invention," you nodded eagerly for her to continue "the bastards at the lab made fun of us for being delusional because and I quote "this only exists in fiction and there could never be a thing such as time machines" the pricks! Don't they know that before the invention of ships and aeroplanes, writers prophesied these inventions, I mean that's how usually things start. People come up with crazy ideas and we scientists try to bring these ideas into life." Her outrage was evident in her tone. You nodded agreeing with her. "Anyways, that's not for you worry about, at least for the time being," she said walking away from you to continue looking around.

You tried to change the topic, but for some reason, you were not gifted with the ability to be smooth, "What made you marry him?" You fired the question still looking at Jungkook who suddenly smirked at you. "I am pretty good with a sword," he answered, and you could feel his ego inflate. "Oh my, Jungkook please don't!" Your older self whined rolling her head. "What?" Jungkook asked going back to his baby Bambi-eyed self before he started acting cocky. "A sword!" You wondered in a hushed tone to yourself, Jungkook's eyes looking over your face as if he can see your mind putting two and two together, "Oh!" You suddenly realised what he was implying, apparently something sexual. "EEWW!" you shook your head trying not to imagine anything. "Jungkook for God's sake, She's still sixteen, and she doesn't know you yet. Besides you know that I married you because I love you not because of … that," your older self said shaking her head at her husband's immaturity.

"Anyways, it's almost time. If Jungkook set the timer correctly, we should be getting back in a few seconds!" Your older self said from behind you, untying you from your restraints. "What? Back where?" You asked turning to look at her. "What do you mean back where! Back to our present!" She answered looking back at Jungkook. "What about me?"

"What about you?" Jungkook asked confused. Rolling your eyes, not really knowing how you will actually fall in love with the guy later on, "I mean … what am I supposed to do now that I met you?" You asked looking back at your older self, eyes begging her to guide you, tell you what to do, to tell you that everything will turn out just fine. Her features softened as she neared you, "hey listen kiddo, everything will be alright. I can't tell you how it will turn out exactly, but I want you to know that you wouldn't want it any other way, I promise!" She said placing her hand on your shoulder, glancing behind you at Jungkook and smiling softly. You were sure Jungkook was returning her smile, as well. "I don't know what to do...how do I become you?" She tilted her head thinking about it. "Well, I can't tell you what to do because you'll know that, but you can start by resisting," she winked at you before extending her hand to Jungkook who took it. They both backed away from you. You felt them start to fade, but before they vanished completely, Jungkook winked at you in a friendly manner and told you, "see you soon!" You frowned not understanding what he meant by that.

Two days had already passed since you met your future self. In the beginning, you doubted the whole thing happening, but then you found a small sticky note by your desk with neat handwriting saying "I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul. ~ William Ernest Henley" which you realised was a quote from your favourite poem, your older self had written it down for you. It was the only proof that what had taken place in your room was real. It was still the beginning of the school day, and you were already bored. "Attention please, everyone!" Your teacher raised her voice over the noisy chatter of the students, bursting your bubble of thoughts and making you look up as your colleagues started to settle down. "I would like you to welcome our new transfer student, Jeon Jungkook," she exclaimed enthusiastically looking around with a hopeful gaze. Jeon Jungkook? What? No way? You suddenly looked up, a shy boy with a shaggy haircut entered the classroom barely looking up, too afraid to make eye contact with anyone. You gasped quietly, that's what Jungkook meant by seeing me soon? He looks nothing like his older self! You thought, inspecting the Jungkook standing by the teacher. He looked up shyly, and the first person he laid eyes on was you. Your heart fluttered when he made eye contact and averted his eyes quickly as he blushed. Oh how cute! You thought smiling slightly. Oh my God, it's actually happening! You were having an internal conversation with yourself now, realising that this was true, you're already harbouring a crush on the boy. "Jungkook, why don't you take a seat next to y/n," your teacher said averting her gaze from Jungkook to you, nodding her head so you'd raise your hand to let him know where you're sitting. "Y/n, would you please show Jungkook around the school later, and help him with what he's missing. If there's anything you're unable to help him with, you can return to me," she said moving already behind her desk and opening her book to start the lesson as Jungkook made his way to the empty desk next to you.

"H-hi, I am Jungkook," he introduced himself minutes after he sat down. "I know, the teacher introduced you at the beginning of class," you said smiling softly at his rosy cheeks that displayed his embarrassment, you chuckled finding him so endearing trying to make a small conversation with you. You turned your head paying attention to what the teacher was explaining. You could feel Jungkook fiddle around in his seat looking around worriedly with his big Bambi eyes that you're sure are now your weakness. You realised that he was nervous because he doesn't have a pen and was embarrassed to ask for an extra one. You silently nudged him and gave him one of yours which made him flash you a grateful smile making you flash him a soft one.

Meanwhile, you and Jungkook were watching your younger-selves interact shyly just as you did ten years ago. "Kookie!" He hummed not really paying you attention since he was eating an ice-cream. You turned your head inspecting his features that didn't really change that much since you first saw him, "you didn't set the machine on that time by mistake, did you?" You asked referring to the time when you asked him about the time settings after your younger self had caught you both snooping around her, well technically your room. You looked at your melting ice-cream, taking a small bite as you could still see Jungkook from your peripheral vision. His movements stopped for a moment, seeing that you smirked as if you caught him in the act. Sensing your sly smile, he shook his head "I don't know what you're talking about!" He feigned dumbness as if you won't be able to tell that he was lying, but who was he fooling? You knew him like the back of your hand. He sighed looking at you in defeat as you raised an eyebrow at him waiting for him to explain himself. "Babe, I know how you were always anxious during that time of your life, and now that we achieved this together and made the whole time machine thing possible; I wanted the first thing for us to do is console your younger-self. I remember how you had a hard time because of your parents," he explained himself all pouty like a child who had done something wrong. However, Jungkook didn't do anything wrong, far from it actually, he wanted nothing but to make you feel less stressed and less unloved. He knows that his younger self has to overcome so many intricacies for you to open up to him. You were a totally different version from who you are right now, and it hurt him to see you doubting yourself or feeling inferior all these years because of your non-existent relationship with your parents. "Thank you, Kookie," you said placing a soft peck on his pouty lips. "You're not mad at me?" He asked, eyes widening, watching you enjoy your ice-cream as you took in your surroundings. You shook your head looking back at him. "I love you," you smiled holding his hand into yours. His worried bunny features eased into a smile and a look full of nothing but adoration for you, "I love you, too." He kissed you passionately while rubbing his thumb over your cheeks. "Finish your ice-cream. We have ten minutes remaining before we go back." You said looking at your digital watch. "What? We don't get to take the ice-cream with us?" He asked, curiosity glossing in his eyes. You shook your head at your husband whom you genuinely believed is a child trapped in the body of a 26 years old man, but as you said: you wouldn't want to have it any other way.

[clareyfray]

henry cavill smut

Concept: You’re at a convention held in a hotel waiting to meet Henry Cavill for a photo op when he takes an interest in you and invites you back to his room for some…fun. 18+ 

Henry x [Y/N]

I was stood in line to have my photo taken with Henry. I was so excited, I had waited years for this moment. I couldn’t wait to tell him how much I admired him and to have a photo to cherish of us together.

The girl in front of me had just finished and the man at the side waved and nodded at me to signal that it was finally my turn.

I could barely get my legs to move as he smiled at me as I walked over to him. I knew he was big, but now stood next to him I released how big he actually was. I barely came up to his neck as he loomed over me.

He draped one of his thick arms around me and pushed me in closer to him. I could smell his scent I was so close, rosemary and a comforting musty smell, it was heavenly.

“Hi, love” he said in his deep voice, “how are you?”

I smiled awkwardly, I was finding it difficult to find any words to say being so close to him, all that I had wanted to say had disappeared and a jumbled mess came out,

“Good, yeah, good…thanks. How are you? You smell good” I spoke so quickly I wasn’t sure he had understood what I had said but a low laugh rumbled through him making his body and me vibrate from laughter.

“That’s very kind of you to say” he hugged me tighter as the photographer came to stand behind the camera.

“Do you ever read your Instagram direct messages?” I asked suddenly, I don’t know where it had come from or why I really asked but the words couldn’t stop themselves from coming out.

“Ugh..” he mumbled, taken aback from my question, “sometimes, why?”

“Oh, I just wondered if you had seen any of mine but I guess you have so many you wouldn’t really see” I replied hurriedly, I still couldn’t believe I had actually asked that, of course he hadn’t seen, what a stupid question.

“That depends what’s your name on there?” he replied, a slight smirk on his face as the flash from the camera went off.

“Oh, it’s [Y/U]” I answered, his grip suddenly got tense on my shoulders.

“So you’re [Y/N]?” He questioned as he loosened the grip again and stood a little further back from me. He looked down at me, scanning every part of me.

I could feel my face turning red as he hesitated on my chest for a few seconds longer,

“You know my name?” I asked frowning in confusion, “I-“

He cut me off suddenly,

“Listen” he said lowering his voice, putting a hand on each of my shoulders and looking at me sternly “I want you to meet me in about two hours from now, outside this room” he shoved a piece of paper into my hand and released me as the photographer shouted “Next!” and the next person started to walk over.

“Um, ok” I said, still frowning. He gave me a reassuring smile before I headed away into the main area.

I wondered over to the eating area and stared at the crumpled note in had given me.

It was just the words “Room 306”. I was still in shock as I sat there and before I knew it it was nearly time to meet him, if this wasn’t a dream, which at this stage I was pretty certain it was. It wasn’t easy to get past the security which seemed to be everywhere but I showed them a note and a few phone calls later and they let me past.

 Henry was 40 minutes late, not that I minded it’s just my nerves were terrible and I could feel my legs going weak as each minute seemed to last forever. But all was forgiven when he came striding along the corridor, his dark curls dangled in front of his face and his broad smile lit up when he saw me standing waiting for him.

“Sorry to keep you waiting” he grinned as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his door key.

“That’s ok” I smiled nervously, I still had no idea what was going on. I was in a daze and nothing seemed real as I followed him into the room.

I watched as he made his way straight over to the kitchen and poured himself a cold glass of rosemary water,

“Would you like some?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder and holding up his glass in gesture.

“I’m good, thank you” I replied, I was so nervous I knew if I ate or drank anything I’d throw it up.

“Sorry I’ve been so vague about everything, it was such a rush earlier and I didn’t have time to explain” he smiled as he walked to sit on the sofa, his arms outstretched on the back of the sofa as he beckoned me to sit next to him, “You’re probably wondering what all this is about” he said gesturing around the room. “When you said who you were, I knew who you were straight away, I’ve seen your dm’s” he smirked as he watched my eyes widen, “You’ve sent me some of the dirtiest messages I’ve ever received and I have to say that’s saying something”

He leaned in closer, I could feel his warm breath on my face, his hand slid down to his jean pocket as he got his phone out. I watched in horror as he opened Instagram and started to read out my messages to him,

“Henry, I don’t know if you’ll see this but I’m thinking about you right now, my hand in my panties as I think of your big dick inside of me. Please just let me feel you inside me daddy”

I cringed the hardest I’d ever cringed as his bright blue eyes twinkled as he smirked at me,

“It just gets worse from there but I guess you know that. But what I really what to know [Y/n]…,” he leaned forward suddenly again, his mouth by my ear, “is, do you mean what you say?”

A shiver when up my spine as his breathing turned heavy,

“I-“

He cut me off before I could say anything else,

“Because the thing is [Y/N], there’s nothing I’d love more than to punish you for saying all those inappropriate things to me” he said, leaning back now so I could see his face. He reached for a piece of my hair and pulled on it lightly, I let out a little gasp as he watched for my reaction.

I stared at him in silence for a minute just staring back at him as he waited patiently, his eyes never leaving my face,

“Yes” I blurted suddenly.

He chuckled, “Yes, what?”

“Yes, I meant what I said” I replied, my voice a little more sure this time.

His eyebrows raised as he nodded slightly,

“I was hoping you’d say that” he stood up suddenly, towering over me. I made a move to get up,

“No” he said putting his hand out to stop me, “I want you to stay there”

I glanced up at him confused,

“I’m going to ask you once more, are you sure you want to do this. There’s no pressure, you can leave anytime” he said.

“No, I..I want to stay” I replied slowly, there was no way I was leaving this room even if I was nervous.

He smirked,

“I’ll make you regret that” he whispered as he put a thumb on my bottom lip and pulled it down “But before we do anything I need you to pick a safe word”

I looked at him confused, surely it wasn’t going to get that rough? He chuckled when he realised my confusion,

“Just in case” he smiled.

“Ok…urm, pepper” I replied as he pulled his shirt over his head giving a nod to my answer, his solid chest staring me in the face. He was so beautiful.

“Like what you see?” he teased as he pulled me up with one arm.

“Yes” I answered, still staring.

“Yes what, [Y/N]” he looked at me sternly, his eyes filled with lust as he looked down at me. “Yes, daddy”

“Good, you catch on fast” he smiled, running a hand through his hair, “let’s get started” He paused for a second looking at my chest again.

“Do you particularly like this shirt your wearing?” he questioned, not breaking his gaze.

“Not really I-“ Before I could finish talking he had slashed open my shirt, the buttons scattering to the floor and my lace bra exposed.

“Do you like what you see?” I asked, looking up at him with innocent eyes. He smirked, he knew what I was doing.

“Very much” he licked his lips slowly, the wetness shining.

I took off my ripped shirt and began to take off my bra,

“Let me” he said, taking my bra off in less than a second “Don’t worry, I’m slow when I need to be”

He winked at me as he slid his jeans off.

We were both naked in seconds, I was hungry to touch him. I wanted to feel him under my skin so badly.

I reached out a hand towards his stomach,

“I didn’t say you could touch, did I?” he frowned grabbing my wrist.

I smirked, suddenly I knew how to get what I wanted.

“No you didn’t but I’m going to” I caught him off guard and my hand smacked against his abs. It felt so hard, so nice against my skin.

“Don’t make me put you over my knee already” he growled grabbing my wrist again.

I decided it was now or never and let my hand slide slowly down towards his dick which was twitching as he flinched at my touch.

“No” he shouted, and grabbed me by the waist.

I knew I had gotten what I wanted. He sat on the edge of the bed and threw me against his knees.

“I warned you [Y/N], I don’t mess around” he growled as I squirmed under his grip.

It was like was clamped down, my body supported by his big thighs I loved so much.

His hand was massaging my ass, just as I was beginning to enjoy it a stinging radiated through my ass cheeks as I let out a loud whimper.

“I don’t want any of that” he said, shoving his fingers into my mouth as another hit landed on my ass.

I tried to moan but his hands made me splutter. I felt his dick get hard against my stomach as he hit me again.

“Seeing as this is your first time, I’ll be lenient” he said massaging my ass again before pushing me back against the bed.

“Spread your legs” he ordered as he stood stroking his cock over me.

My ass was still stinging and I wasn’t paying attention, he got impatient and pushed open my legs with thighs.

I was tiny compared to him, his thighs were massive, so were his muscles and he was bigger than me in every way and I was suddenly aware that his dick was massive and I had only had sex once before, I knew I was going to be tight.

“Wait” I said, my voice full of fear that Henry stopped,

“What’s wrong?” he asked, reaching out a hand to touch my face, concern in his eyes.

“Your- it’s just…you’re so big” I said, looking at his dick to make my point.

He knelt to the floor and pulled me to the corner of the bed,

“It’s ok, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of”

Before I could reply his tongue darted between my pussy lips and up inside me,

“Oh” was all I could breath out before the best sensation I’ve ever felt filled me. His tongue was leaving no area untouched. His tongue circled around as I panted in passion. Then after a few minutes he hit the spot, I cried out and clenched as he threw my legs over his shoulders and began to lick so fast I let out a constant cry.

“I’m gonna cum” I shrieked suddenly as he pulled me closer.

“Cum for me [Y/N]” he growled in between my legs.

As soon as tongue hit my spot again I came. As he came back up he bit the inside of my thigh.

“Ahh” I groaned, still panting. He grinned as he climbed on top of me.

Just as I thought I’d get a break his fingers jammed into my pussy.

“Someone is wet” he smirked as he felt inside of me.

I bit my lip as he removed his fingers slowly.

“Da...daddy” I groaned as he tasted my juices on his fingers.

“You ready?” he asked as he positioned himself above me,

I nodded,

I was taken by surprise as he went in fast. The pain and pleasure all at once was too much and I could feel my eyes roll as he paused inside me.

“Ok?” he questioned through a pant.

I choked out a “Yes” before he began to pound into me again. He was so deep inside me I almost passed out from pleasure. His thickness hitting the sides of pussy and giving me tingles every time he thrusted into me.

“You’re so...big, daddy” I panted as he put a hand on the headboard and hissed.

“Fuck, you’re so tight baby” he groaned as he felt my pussy clench around his cock.

His other hand pinning my arm above my head, slowly he worked his way down to my breasts, he flicked my nipple hard as he landed a thrust and I let out a gasp.

“I’m…close” I choked out as he the thrusting began to get faster and harder.

Sweat formed on his forehead and the curls stuck to his forehead as he let out another groan,

“We’re going to cum together [Y/N], when I say I want you to let it all out and cum for your daddy ok”

I was so wrecked I just let out a small “Ok” before he carried on with the fast pace for a few more seconds.

“Now” he hissed as he did the hardest and longest thrust. I felt a warmth fill me up as I orgasmed.

“Fuck…fuck” Henry swore as he dropped his hand from the headboard and ran a hand through his hair.

I was a mess, cum was falling out of pussy, his and mine and I stared up at him with glazed eyes.

I moved my body, trying to wiggle out from under his thighs.

He put a hand on my neck but not tightly,

“I’m not done with you yet”

“D..d-da-daddy…” I  found myself nearly sobbing the word out.

Before I had a second to even think his cock was in me again, my pussy barely taking his cock.

My breathing quickly turned to panting and after minutes with a fast pace without warning, he slowed, and slipped his cock out of me moving it down lower and massaging the tip of his cock against my ass cheeks. And despite the fact that hole was so much tighter, the moisture from my pussy had gone down to it and slipped straight in,

“Daddy no, daddy no! Good girls don’t do it there!” I whined.

But then he looked at me, pausing, locking eyes with me,

“Look at me sweetheart, do you remember your safeword?” he asked in a serious tone as he grabbed my jaw, i nodded, “What is it?” he asked, his voice gravelly, “[Y/N], answer me.”

“Pepper” I said in a quiet voice, and he smiled letting my jaw go,

“Good girl, and are you using it now?.” he said watching me, I shook my head,

“No daddy, I’m not.”

Henry nodded,

“Alright, then we’re going to keep going baby girl.” He said, barely letting me nod my head before he began pushing his thick cock into my ass again. This time he didn’t tease me. With each thrust, I gasped, almost jerking from him naturally, and whimpering as I felt him pull back and tighten his grip on my hair.

The pain was like a sharp burn, and it was worse when he moved your cock. He leaned forward, pulling half out of me and spitting a string of saliva, letting it land between my ass cheeks before rolling his hips again.

“Thank you daddy,” i panted, it hurt slightly less now as I adjusted to his thickness.

“You’re doing so good baby…” he said in a own breathy pant as I let out a soft moan, “You’re going to make daddy cum so fucking hard in that pretty little ass, you’re doing so good, daddy is so proud of you,” he said in a whisper.

“Am I doing good daddy?” I asked in a cry as he slammed hard into me,

“God yes baby…” he moaned, “Do you want daddy to cum? Do you want me to fill up that tight little hole with all my hot cum?” he asked, looking down at me,

“Please daddy,” I whined, as he leaned down, kissing my lips hard as he rolled his hips up against me.

“I’m gonna cum [Y/N], fuck” he hissed, as I felt a shot of warmth inside of me as clung to my breasts roughly.

He kissed me again, hard, his lips were wet again mine and I moaned in pleasure.

Slowly, he broke apart,

“You did so fucking good baby, making daddy cum like that,” he said in a pant.

I smiled, leaning up and kissing him

“Thank you daddy” I said as he leaned back against the bed frame.

He fell onto the bed and pulled me to lay against his stomach, his firm arms around me

“You were so good for daddy” he said quietly into my hair.

I was just about to close my eyes when a thought suddenly came to me,

“Wait, I don’t have a shirt to wear anymore”

- this was my first time writing a fic let alone a smut one so feedback would be great!

[yeocult]

ATEEZ as students studying

HONGJOONG:

king of self-care! but studies for 15 minutes then take a 2 hour break and calls it self-care (omg he thinks he’s me or smth)

has power naps every single day at least 30 mins because he’s Stressed

always thinking of ways to drop out during the middle of lectures

that one kid that talks to nobody & sits at the back of the class with his hood on to hide his airpods

doesn’t do it anymore bc one time it disconnected and “there’s some whores in this house” blasted out loud & now he’s paranoid

shows up to group studies but lets the group carry him,,, but he puts out One Really good idea to get his name on the paper

only cares about topics he’s interested in, other than that he’s just astral projecting

“yo can you send me your answers so i can compare mine?” but he copies it and says “we got the same answers” (all men do is lie</3)

calculates his marks; “ok so i need at least a 80 on this...oh wait no, a 95...damn okay...”

the type to arrives late with ice coffee

SEONGHWA:

wakes up at 5 am to study instead of staying up

scented candles and lofi music for the ~studying mood~

a linguistic learner

learns best by teaching others so he’ll do group studies often to help other people

teaches people without making them feel dumb

uses grammarly for his emails with 3 paragraphs asking 1 question with a proper greeting and a ‘sincerely, park seonghwa’

professor: ok - sent from iphone

you’ll never see him during exams week, he’s Gone

a loyal user of the outline method

his desk must be cleared at all times! a clean workspace makes it easier to focus

brings extra pencil just in case anyone needs them bc he’s the sweetest person ever (he’s fully aware that he’ll never get them back but it’s okay bc sharing is caring)

does his readings on time (you’ll never catch him slacking)

actually has his shit together for the most part 1/2

YUNHO:

writes “i love you” or “sorry” at the end of his tests (that he bombed)

the type to ask you to print “just one thing real quick” and it’s 15 page and at 2 am

uses emojis like :D & \(^o^)/ when sending emails to his professors

has a bad habit of copying word for word on the slide and he doesn’t actually understand/learn anything

goes to the library bc he thinks that’ll help him be in the ~studying vibe~

it doesn’t. ends up texting or watching youtube gameplay

has never heard of the colour-coding system in his entire life and ends up with a page filled with neon highlight

snacks breaks are the only thing keeping him Normal

leaves himself an encouraging note at the end of the reading page so when he’s finished he feels good !!

friends with all of the professors and uses all office hours

strongest points are his guessing skills in multiple-choice questions (process of elimination ftw!)

he tries his best, doesn’t care about marks that much because he knows it doesn’t determine him (and he’s right!)

YEOSANG:

probably runs a studyblr/gram

has the cutest note ever, his handwriting is so pretty!!

he thinks that buying an ipad pro & apple pencil will make him smarter

likes it bc he can doodle on it then erase them easily :”)

has to wear blue ray glasses because of how he looks at a screen so much

mildliners, muji 0.38 gel pen, 6 ring binder, minimal planner, washi tapes, you name it! he visits muji and daiso every other week

buys wayyy too many planners and notebooks which he never ends up using

only uses pastel mildliners because they’re easy on the eyes. cringes every time he sees yunho’s highlighters v_v

his flaw is that he spends 10 mins writing his header with brush tip pens

mutes the group project gc but gets his part done like the good classmate he is

sweats every time he gets an assignment back, takes a whole ten minute to mentally prepare himself

a visual learner; makes mind maps, flow charts, etc

actually has a working printer that he uses pretty often to prints lessons before class just to be Extra prepare

tells everyone he slept well but his bullet journal habit tracker for sleep says otherwise (plz rest!!)

exclusively uses college ruled paper like the sane person he is

SAN:

uses wide-ruled paper (unfortunately not everyone is perfect</3)

starts off very positive, motivated, and organized

then everything goes downhill by the second week

will definitely set byeol on top of his keyboard, take a picture, and send it to his professor as an ‘excuse’ as why he needs an extension (it works)

can’t sit still for any longer than 30 mins, his legs are always bouncing or fidgeting with pen

flashcard king! spends a lot of time on them but it’s worth it

a utensil chewer (always willing to share his pencil but when ppl saw the bite marks they’re like No Thanks >_>)

can’t study well with groups or himself bc he’ll be distracted,,, so he needs one person that can ground him bc when they’re in the zone, he will too be on his x game mode

sends his assignment at 11:58 pm hoping his professor will take the Hint (plz don’t be afraid to ask for help u_u)

prefers listening to ghibli studio soundtracks but then he either gets emotional or sleepy

sometimes forget to mute his mic and we just hear him groaning in frustration

“haha sorry i just stubbed my toe...”

then mutes his mic and goes back to his mental breakdown

MINGI:

the only person that studies every single day just to get his brain used to the information and running

probably listens to anime op or edm music for that Energy Boost

everyone either hates or love him because...

1. loves him bc he always comes clutched with study guides (and willing to share if he likes you enough)

2. he’s good at everything even if he’s not paying attention/doing it last minute

just naturally good at retaining information and applying them

asks Big Brain question that even the professors are shook

sometimes he gets super into the topic and wants to know Everything

“i’ve never failed an exam in my life” and he’s right! big brain mingi

fetal flaw is that he forgets easily (hence why the last minute) and has to write on his palm as a reminder

clicks his pens All the time so he switched to pens with caps just to keep others from jumping him

takes naps 10 mins before classes

actually has his shit together for the post part 2/2

“if no one got me, i know khan academy and quizlet got me. can i get an amen”

WOOYOUNG:

y’all know that one mf that doesn’t have a pencil?

yea he’s been using the same one someone lend to him before a test and never returned it

it’s been two months and it’s still working well and they’re never going to get it back

a minimalist,,,, but in a bad way</3 bc he carries his stolen pencil and paper that he spilled his energy drink over and that’s about it

just throw loose papers in his bag and forgets about their existence

doesn’t do binders or notebooks, just crumbled up paper

sometimes carries a textbook just to show everyone that he’s got his life together

really noisy for No reason, always wants to know other’s marks

a kinesthetic learner

hides his screen with he gets the kahoot questions wrong (you’ll never catch him slippin)

plays coolmathgames.com during class

doesn’t really know what to study/prioritize so he overwhelms himself with every single topic ever

thinks he’s god by pulling an all-nighter to look at the 60+ slides last minute

Swears he’ll change and do better next semester,,,</3

goes to the cafe, takes pictures of his notes & laptop, post it on his story, then leaves

JONGHO:

thrives off of red bull and ice americanos

gets notes and study guides from his upperclassmen because everyone loves jongho

an audio learner so he’ll probably work out or go on a jog while listening to lessons/audiobook

never pulls all-nighters bc it messes up his sleep schedule and says he’ll do it in the morning but he never does

doesn’t even own a highlighter, he’ll circle or underline stuff with a red or black pen

has never touched a textbook in his life

only the study guides and slides, his textbook is collecting dust rn

his notes are literally Only for him because his handwriting only makes sense to him

has questionable handwriting,,, it’s like decoding

multitasks a lot but it ends up taking a lot longer than he wanted to (bc it’s a myth)

very spontaneous; he’ll grind for 5 hours straight but sometimes he won’t even touch a pencil

works best when he talks about the work in groups and share information with each other, like having a convo about the topic

unmutes his mic Once after the lesson to say “bye”

does his work right after the lessons but then takes a short break & doesn’t even Look back for the rest of the night

-

a/n: tag yourself ! i’m a bit of hohong (i projected myself on all of them in some way lmaooo)

[yunoteru4ever]

I am the asker of the last question, thank you for the very fair response. Personally I agree though I believe the anime will be boosted whenever yandere related media comes out. It was boosted vastly by Yandere Simulator imo. If I may ask you another, what draws you to this anime/manga just as I am? Thank you.

Note: This is a follow-up to this post.

Sorry for being so late to follow up!

And hey, hopefully you're right. Anytime someone brings up yanderes, Yuno does often get mentioned.

It's hard to even put into words all the things I love about it, but... I guess I was first interested because of the OP and some of the score that I heard. And then the non-stop twistiness of the thing is what kept me watching. And then I got invested in the the characters and how fascinating they are and how dark and cynical its worldview is... but of course, still with that element that hope. That's the best answer I can come up with today, anyway.

[sableu]

hi hi :D okay so im in a weird dilemma. i spent like most of my mid teens super obsessed with one piece and it still holds a rlly intense place in my heart even though i fell out of the habit of reading every week. i followed u and loved ur blog for so long (im so glad you’re still active i hope ur doing well!) and so many others as well. sabo was and is my favourite character i think about him all the time. im thinking of getting back into the fandom and catching up? but im worried he’s like…not a prominent character at all which, don’t get me wrong i love the straw hats but…idk a lot of the appeal of getting back into op is like. seeing what happened to him and the revolutionaries. i stopped reading around the end of the dressrosa arc. is it worth picking it up again? how present is sabo in the story? sorry this is such a convoluted ask no pressure to answer! mwah

ahhh hello!! i'm happy that you're still around too :D thank you for liking my blog!! and no worries, i'm happy to answer (even tho i'm probably very late lol, tumblr still isn't notifying me when i receive an ask so i just have to remember to periodically check for them)

it is kind of a difficult question, though--i will say that sabo is not at all present in the current story, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have a storyLINE and interesting stuff happening with him off-screen! we haven't gotten to see a lot of what's up with him yet, but i have a feeling we will relatively soon, once wano ends.

in general i think only reading one piece specifically for sabo and the revolutionaries (or really... anyone outside the straw hats and maybe law haha) is probably gonna end in disappointment bc inevitably those characters won't be around much, but i personally have really enjoyed the little pieces we Have gotten of them since then and am a big fan of the arcs that follow dressrosa! so i guess at the end of the day it's up to you.

[plaidbooks]

Hi! Could you please do one where Sonny and the reader are undercover together? The reader and Sonny both have feelings for each other, but refuse to admit it. They have to kiss or be intimate during the undercover op and it leads to tension when they return to work. Maybe one of them are casually dating and things get ugly before they get better, but ends with them both confessing their feelings? Thanks!!

Heated Confessions

A/N: Heya anon! This was a lot of fun to write! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! (Also, poor Charles)

Tags: mentions of trafficking, mentions of fuck buddies, the overuse of the work fuck

Words: 2449

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @reading--mermaid @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba

Sonny was sitting on an ottoman, drink in hand, watching the party unfold. The camera in his glasses was capturing everything, and Sonny made sure to look at every john’s face long enough to get positive IDs for when the bust was made. You straightened your dress in the kitchen—if the small amount of material covering you could be called that—pulling it up a little so that your boobs weren’t completely falling out, before you made your way through the throng, weaving in and out of the hands that reached for you, men inviting you to sit on their laps or join them in a back room. But you continued on your way to Sonny; you had some information that you had to pass onto him.

You stood in front of him, a seductive smile on your face as he glanced up your body until he made it to your face. “This seat taken?” you purred. You didn’t wait for him to answer, straddling his legs easily, sinking down into his lap and wrapping your arms around the back of his neck. Your short dress hitched up, and you were sure everyone behind you could see your ass. Sonny played his part well, one hand cupping your ass and the other trailing up your back, pulling you closer to him. You ignored your fluttering heart—not only was Sonny your partner, but you had a huge crush on him, and it was hard to not be turned on by your own actions. Running your lips over his jaw, you moved your mouth to his ear, speaking hopefully loud enough that the mic under his collar could hear you, too.

“There’s a locked door in back, two armed guards standing on either side. Both have automatics; I’m sure Clemson is in there,” you informed him.

Sonny’s mouth moved to your neck, and a small whimper left your mouth before you could stop it. From the outside, he was just another john feeling up an escort. “Any civilians around?”

“No; the guards are turning them away. The closest entrance is the back door, from the garden.” You rolled your hips against Sonny’s and his breathing hitched.

“Take me, baby,” Sonny growled, and you got off his lap, taking his hand and leading him towards the back of the house. Your heart was thundering through you, and you tried to keep a seductive look on your face, like it was natural for you to be leading a man somewhere more private. Like if you weren’t about to bust this trafficking ring. Like if you were about to fuck your attractive partner.

You stopped in the hallway outside the room leading to the guarded door. Taking a deep breath, you made eye contact with Sonny, giving him a small smile. “Make it look good,” you said sternly. Sonny’s cheeks were pink, but he nodded. You both shifted uncomfortably, and then Sonny was kissing you roughly, his mouth first on your lips, then sliding off to the side, kissing the side of your mouth. He walked you backwards into the room, both of your hands all over each other.

“Hey! Get out of here!” one of the men shouted. Arms still wrapped around your body, Sonny looked up at the guards, panting slightly, his glasses slightly askew. Your mind was a whirlwind, trying to remember what was going on, but all you could think of was Sonny’s body pushed up against yours, the feeling of his mouth all over you still fresh.

“Sorry lads, is this room not available?” Sonny asked, smirking. He moved his eyes to you, indicating to the men what he wanted.

“No; try a room upstairs,” the man growled at the two of you. He gripped his gun tighter, and Sonny straightened.

“Yeah, okay, calm down, man. Let’s go honey,” he cooed at you, taking your hand and pulling you back out of the room. Once alone in the hallway, Sonny said, “you’re right; Clemson is definitely in there…you guys see that?” he added into his mic.

“Among other things,” Fin’s voice came over the earpiece and Sonny’s cheeks reddened. He suddenly found a spot on the floor very interesting. “You and [Y/N] stay clear; ESU’s getting into position.”

“Yeah, okay. Here, Sonny,” you said, moving up to him. You untucked half his shirt, unstraightening his tie, and mussing up his hair. You reached up to your own mouth, smearing your lipstick more than his mouth already had. You ruffled your hair slightly, then turned to leave the hallway, Sonny following you, a satisfied smile on his lips.

Soon after you both rejoined the party, doors slammed open, ESU storming the house. You and Sonny surrendered, not wanting to have your covers blown in case you needed to use them again. Olivia and Fin came in, arresting you both, shoving you into their squad car, and driving you to the precinct. The ride back was awkward, and you couldn’t look at Olivia or Fin, let alone Sonny. And with your hands cuffed behind your back, you couldn’t readjust your dress as it climbed higher and higher up your thigh.

All the other partygoers were mercifully being sent to a different precinct, so you and Sonny were allowed to go change once back in the safety of SVU. The first thing you did was go to the bathroom and scrub the makeup off your face, splashing cold water in your face and trying, trying to forget the feeling of Sonny all over you. You’d been attracted to him since you met him—hell, he’d appeared in some of your late-night fantasies more than a handful of times. But he was your partner; it couldn’t happen. And when your battery-operated boyfriend could no longer keep the ache away, you met a guy at a bar. What you and Charles had was casual; he wasn’t your boyfriend, and you weren’t exclusive...at least, he wasn’t, which was fine. You were more just fuck buddies. But even that was starting to get boring, and Sonny started entering your mind more and more. You knew tonight wouldn’t help with that; quite the opposite, in fact.

Coming out of the locker room in NYPD sweats and tshirt, you ran your fingers through your hair as you made your way to Olivia’s office. Sonny was already there, wearing the same clothes from the bust but definitely freshened up. You both gave your statements, then headed to your desks to collect your things so that you could go home for the night, maybe take care of that dull ache that had appeared between your thighs since the moment you had straddled Sonny’s lap.

“So, uh, how’s Charles?” Sonny asked, clipping his badge back onto his waistband. You whipped your head to look at him, but he refused to make eye contact, choosing to stare at his desk instead.

You had told him about Charles only once before; honestly, you were shocked he even remembered the man. “Uh, he’s fine. Taking me out to sushi tomorrow,” you replied awkwardly. As much as you and Charles weren’t dating, he liked to take you out every now and again.

“That sounds…nice.” He shifted on his feet. “So, you two getting more serious?”

“Does that bother you, Carisi?” you asked impatiently. You didn’t know why he cared, nor why you were getting so defensive about some guy you were fucking every week or so.

Sonny raised his hands in defense. “Hey, it was just a question. Sorry if you don’t wanna talk about your fuck buddy.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Are you judging me? I’m a fucking adult, Dom. Sorry your repressed Catholic self doesn’t allow you to get some. But I don’t need your divine guidance in my life.” You finished grabbing your things, storming towards the exit.

“Excuse me?” Sonny asked in disbelief. He followed you to the elevator, stepping into the small space with you, standing right in your face. “Look, we’re partners, [Y/N]. I worry about you, okay? Sleeping around with some guy isn’t the safest—”

You scoffed. “I do not need a lecture from you, choir boy. I’m a big girl; I can take care of myself. And who I’m fucking is none of your concern!”

The elevator dinged and you stepped out, Sonny right on your heels. “[Y/N], listen to me, dammit,” he said. Even with as fast you were walking to your car, his long legs kept up with you easily. He leaned on your door, not allowing you to open it.

“Fuck off, Dom. I’m done talking about this. Maybe I’ll call Charles, have him come over and—”

“Would you shut up for two seconds?” Sonny yelled, his voice echoing in the parking garage. His outburst surprised you and you froze, hand still on the handle to your car. He ran his free hand through his hair, sighing deeply before he looked into your eyes. “Look, I don’t want you with Charles because…I like you, okay? And after that UC….” He trailed off, his eyes drifting down.

You stood there dumbfounded. You remembered his mouth on your lips, your neck, his hands all over you. But then you remembered his words at his desk, and with the adrenaline still rushing through you, you yelled, “really? You’re gonna pull that shit right now, Dom?” You shook your head. “Move out of my way.”

Sonny nodded, more to himself than to you, before he withdrew his hand from your door. You climbed in behind the wheel, slamming the door behind you and speeding out of the parking lot before he had a chance to see the tears on your face.

 *************************

You had the next day off work, which you were eternally grateful for. You texted Charles, telling him that you couldn’t make it to sushi, that you were busy all day. And then you sat on your couch, drinking wine and crying. Sonny had finally, finally admitted his feelings for you, and you screamed at him. What the fuck was wrong with you? Sometimes, you thought that you were a self-sabotager; always fucking up when you had the chance of getting what you wanted, of being happy. And how the fuck were you going to look Sonny in the eye when you saw him again?

You had moved onto your second bottle of wine when you heard a soft knock on your door. Ignoring it, you poured a glass full, taking a sip; you didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. Besides, it was probably your annoying neighbor coming to complain about his broken AC, or his dishwasher making a weird noise, or some other thing going wrong in his apartment that you really didn’t care about.

But the knocking just grew louder until you heard Sonny’s voice call out, “[Y/N] open up! I know you’re in there, dammit! We need to talk!”

Placing your glass on the kitchen counter, you stormed over to your front door, the anger that flooded you sobering you up, and you unlocked it, throwing it open. “Can you not alert the whole building to my work issues, please?” you hissed, grabbing his arm and dragging him into your apartment.

“Sorry, but I didn’t think you were gonna answer,” Sonny said sheepishly. You opened your mouth to argue, but he cut you off. “Look, I don’t want to fight with you, okay? That’s not why I’m here. But we need to work through this, work through…us.”

“Us?” You threw your hands up in exasperation. “What us? Until yesterday, I didn’t think there was an us! Why the hell do you think I went and found someone like Charles?”

“…what?” Sonny asked, his eyes boring into yours, his brow furrowed.

Maybe it was the alcohol running through you, muddling your thoughts. Or maybe it was that once that confession was out in the open, you couldn’t stop yourself. Self-sabotager indeed. “I’ve been in love with you for months, Sonny! So much so that it hurt! But I knew I couldn’t have you, so I found someone else to fuck because I couldn’t fuck you! And now you finally tell me you like me? Now of all times?” You were panting by the time you had finished yelling at him.

Sonny looked crestfallen, hurt in his eyes. “I-I’m sorry—”

“—I don’t want to hear it, Dom, I really don’t—”

“—but why are you mad at me?” he finished as if you didn’t interrupt him. You glared at him, but found you had nothing to say. Why were you mad at him? Sonny cleared his throat. “You and I…we’re supposed to be partners. And I said it yesterday, but I’ll say it again; I like you, maybe even love you, I can’t tell yet, not really. But with your reaction, maybe I should ask Liv to reassign me to Rollins or Fin—”

“Wait,” you said, cutting him off. After your outburst, your anger had left you, leaving you feeling empty, exposed…vulnerable. And when Sonny said the word ‘love,’ it struck a chord deep within you. He watched your face expectantly, probably waiting for you to yell at him more, and you inwardly winced. “I’m sorry, Sonny. I’ve been…a royal bitch to you, and for no good reason. I…I don’t want you to be reassigned; I love being your partner, working with you. Being close to you. If nothing happens between us, I at least don’t want to lose you.”

Sonny gave you a hard look before breaking out into a grin. “We both confess our feelings to each other, and we’re still preparing for nothing to happen, nothing to change, huh?”

It was your turn to smile sheepishly at him, rubbing the back of your neck. “I guess…unless…you want something to happen?”

“What about Charles?”

You rolled your eyes. “Who gives a fuck about Charles?”

Sonny chuckled. He stepped up to you, ducking his head but stopping halfway, letting you stand on your tip toes, closing the distance between you. Sonny’s lips were soft against yours, much different than the undercover make-out session you did yesterday. This was soft, slow, passionate, and you could feel the love and affection Sonny felt for you as an arm wrapped around your shoulders, bringing you closer.

He finally broke the kiss, leaning back to smile down at you. “You know, if we disclose to Liv, she’ll probably still reassign us,” he muttered softly, kissing your nose.

You nodded. “I’d be okay with that, as long as I still get you outside of work.”

“Yeah, doll, you get me,” Sonny said, bringing you in for another kiss.

[allegedlyanandroid]

Pairing: Allen60 Prompt: Cold Types: Found Family, Fluff AU: Angels and Demons, Sixty as the little devil he is, and Allen just being human.

I am so late 😅 I wrote an entire thing before realising I hated every word of it and started over from scratch. Anyway... excuses aside, I hope you like it @yayen-chan <3 `(‾◡◝)´ 

“Okay, bookshelves first,” Allen mutters, following the intricate maze of arrows and concrete as he tries to navigate the local IKEA. “Or rugs. That works too,” he sighs when he glances up and finds himself in the wrong part of the store. Looking through the copious amounts of different rugs Allen rapidly finds himself overwhelmed. He tries reading a few of the ridiculously complicated names, stuttering over them when trying to read them out loud. “Ra- raskmol- mölle?”  

Giving up on the fifth time trying to pronounce it correctly Allen rolls the grey-and-black striped fabric up and tosses it on the cart, already dreading trying to find the rest of the items on his list. There’s only one really but when passing through the plant-section he stops to pick up a potted plant. The other one is beyond salvaging from lack of water. “Ilex, foreeneling? För-enlig. What are these names?”  

After another dead-end and some frustrated grumbling, he does find the bookshelf he needs. Honestly… this trip alone solidifies why he’s never getting a puppy. The one he took in to foster was a sweet thing but very demanding and unaware that he weighed quite a lot for a pup. He’d knocked Allen’s bookshelf over, thus breaking it, and also had an accident on his rug. If being petless meant never having to go here again then that’s a price he’s willing to pay. At least the shelter had found a family for him quickly and, while he did miss the little rascal, the puppy was undoubtedly in better hands.  

“Kallax, hemnes... gersby?”

Too caught up in his own head he doesn't notice the strange scent of warm brimstone and ash filtering through the air nor does he notice the young “man” standing behind him, a man who seemingly appeared out of thin air, until he hears the sound of a throat clearing. Allen jerks his head up from wrestling with the cardboard box and offers an apologetic smile over his shoulder. “I’ll be done in a minute.”

“Or, you could tell me why I’m here and spare me the mundane small talk you humans seem so obnoxiously fond of.”

“I’m sorry?”

The man squints. “You summoned me.”

Allen pauses to take a good look at the man. He’s tall with black, artistically tousled hair and endless amounts of freckles. A few moles are scattered across his skin and his brown eyes are filled with irritation. Dark jeans with a long-sleeved shirt tucked into it, a black overcoat ending at about mid-thigh and a purple scarf hanging unknotted around his neck. Allen thinks long and hard yet finds no recollection of ever seeing this man before in his life let alone speaking to him. “I have no idea who you are.”

“You-” the man pinches the bridge of his nose, inhales deeply and slowly let it out before starting again. “You read the incantation to evoke me and you what… didn’t even realise it?” he asks and receives nothing but a blank stare from Allen in return. “Ugh, humans.”

In the blink of an eye the man transforms. Horns curve with the shape of his skull, producing from close to his temples, before ending in sharp tips that blend in with his raven hair. A black tail is wrapped around his leg which ends with a jagged spear-like point. The tips of his fingers look like they’ve been dipped in charcoal, fading into dark grey about halfway up his fingers, with claw-like black nails top it all off. They tap against the metal shelf next to them as the demon slowly advances.  

Too shocked to move, Allen’s jaw is taken in a firm grip and when the demon smiles his teeth are pointed blades. “So… are you going to tell me what it is you want?”

“You can let go of my face for a start,” Allen says, adding a quick “thank you,” when the demon does as he’s told. “What’s your name?”

“You may call me Sixty.”

“Sixty,” Allen repeats. “No offence but I quite like having my soul intact. I’m sorry for dragging you from… whatever circle of hell you reside in, but I’m not interested in making any sort of deal with you.”

“Sucks to be you then because I’m not leaving until you do,” Sixty says and from his tone of voice alone Allen knows he’s a hundred percent serious.  

‘Fucking IKEA.’

-

“Really? You couldn’t have chosen to live somewhere a bit warmer?” Sixty asks with disdain, thankfully back to looking human. His feet sink into the four inches worth of snow dusting the ground and he can already feel the cold seeping in through the gaps in his clothing. “Or somewhere nicer in general.”

“No one’s forcing you to stay.”

“No one’s forcing you to live here.” A pause. “Or if they are, I am more than willing to kill them for you free of charge.”  

Allen sighs.

-

Having a demon for a housemate isn’t as bad as he thought it would be. Sixty mostly keeps to himself whenever he isn’t trying to get a rise out of him or complaining about the cold or putting things on tall shelves like the little shit he is. Until Sixty gets bored that is.

Because when Sixty gets bored trouble ensues.  

-

Emerging from his office after a long day of meetings to see his demonic housemate casually chatting with parts of his team in the breakroom is a bit out of left field and the sight of Sixty’s mischievous eyes boring into his own is enough to quicken his pace. “What are you doing here, Si- Silas?” he asks, forcing a smile on his face.

He hates how no one else can look past the innocent brown eyes and syrupy grin to see the smugness beneath. “I thought we were supposed to eat lunch together? Did you forget?”

“No, of course not,” Allen hastens to say, ignoring Willis and Clark’s knowing grins, as he wracks his brain for a response. “Though I distinctly remember asking you to wait outside.”

“It would have been rude of me to decline Julie’s offer of getting coffee,” Sixty replies and raises his mug as if to show it off.

“No need to be jealous, boss. We just wanted to get to know the guy better,” Julie says.

“Yeah, it’s not like we’ve ever seen you hang out with anyone outside of work apart from Reed,” Clark pipes up. “We got curious.”

“I’m not jealous!” Allen tries to defend himself, latching on to the word, but the agitated tone does nothing to help his case. Sixty smirking behind the rim of the coffee cup like a cat who got the cream isn’t helping to improve his mood either.

“You are the pettiest asshole I’ve ever had the unfortunate luck of meeting,” Allen says when they’re safely away from prying eyes.

Sixty snickers, knowing full well the amount of endless curiosity and ceaseless questions he’s unleashed on the human. “There’s an easy way to get rid of me.”

The fistful of snow he gets shoved in his face shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

By the time he manages to blink the melting snow out of his eyes Allen is too far away to retaliate, though that doesn’t stop Sixty from trying.  

-

Despite his best efforts Sixty’s irritation with being unceremoniously dragged into the mortal plane dissipates after the third week of staying with Allen. By the time he’s been there for a month and a half, Allen’s team have adopted him as one of their own and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t flattered. They genuinely care about his well-being and often invite him along on outings. As someone whose family is… overbearing, their light-hearted ribbing is a nice change of pace. Their easy dynamic is the very opposite of stifling. No one ever pries when he declines to answer a question. No one touches him after he made it clear he dislikes physical contact. No one quizzes him about his every movement.

It’s… nice.

The next team building exercise and subsequent photo op, proudly displayed on the communal fridge, includes him and Sixty doesn’t cry even a little bit upon seeing that.  

Not at all.

-

In the end, the shift in their relationship is near seamless ‒ from reluctant roommates to friends to something more.  

What hits him first is the metallic scent of fresh blood and Sixty is halfway across the room before he can even process rising to his feet. He gathers Allen up in his arms and leads him to sit down on one of the kitchen chairs. Part of his dark shirt is tacky with blood and Sixty feels no remorse when he shreds it to get it off as quickly as possible. Something, a bullet or knife, must have grazed his side. It’s bleeding sluggishly though it thankfully isn’t deep. Sixty takes the ruined shirt and presses it against the wound. “Keep putting pressure on it.”

Allen doesn’t answer and in the end he’s the one who has to move Allen’s hand to take over while he dashes to the bathroom for the medkit. Sixty plunks it down on the floor and fills a bowl of lukewarm water to put down beside it before fetching a clean towel. He kneels down between Allen’s legs and cleans meticulously around the area, noting the patches of skin where bruises are slowly forming. Swiping over the wound with antiseptic earns him a bitten-off hiss and Sixty puts a hand on Allen’s sternum to steady him after the first involuntary flinch.  

He keeps it there, soothed by feeling the steady thrum of Allen’s heartbeat beneath his fingertips, until he needs the use of both his hands. In its absence, Sixty’s tail comes up to wrap loosely around his thigh for comfort.  

Butterfly bandages instead of sutures, his tail instead of his hand. Allen doesn’t say a word about either choice though he is smiling down where they’re connected once Sixty chances a quick peek.

There’s nothing left for him to do after covering the wound with gauze, taping the edges down, yet Sixty finds himself lingering there regardless.  

It’s easy to trace around the gauze with the very tip of a claw and when he catches Allen’s dark eyes the urge to lean down to place a gentle kiss over it wins out. Allen sighs quietly and coaxes Sixty up to kiss him properly ‒ a chaste press of lips against lips followed by a sincere thank you.  

Sixty blushes and knocks his forehead against Allen’s, mindful of his horns, in a silent show of affection.

-

“Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

“Because I literally stepped in the door a second ago?” Allen laughs and pulls Sixty in for a quick kiss.

“Excuses,” Sixty sniffs and steals another kiss, one that quickly devolves into a dozen pecks being pressed all over his face until Allen plants a last lingering one to his lips.

“I love you,” Allen says when they break apart for real.  

The shy smile spreading over Sixty’s lips is one he’ll never tire of seeing.

[veliseraptor]

Hey just wondering, do you have any draft or work in process or any plan for your next Loki fic? If so can you give us a little sneak peek. Or if you don’t, do you think you’ll write more about him in the future? I know you probably get this a lot and I’m sorry if it’s annoying or if it sounds rude or anything. I’m just wondering and also I’ve been binge reading your stories about him and got addicted so there’s that. But seriously I’m sorry if my message comes off as rude or annoying, that’s not my intention. Anyway hope you’re having an amazing day

I genuinely hate to sound like a broken record, anon, since you are being very polite about this! Which I very much appreciate! But the answer remains more or less the same: I don’t know. I have (counts) 38 different Loki-related WIPs in various stages of completion sitting on my hard drive. I haven’t been working on them actively lately because, to the dismay I’m sure of many of my followers, another fandom has devoured me whole. I’m really enjoying the experience, but it has left me with relatively little brainspace for things that aren’t that thing (or, I guess, other danmei novels and adaptations thereof?? idk okay). 

At some point I would like to finish at least some of those stories, because I do not like leaving things unfinished. But I just don’t know when - or if! - I will. It just depends on if I get that emotional investment back. At the moment it doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen imminently, but who knows. And maybe I’ll go back and reread what I have written of some of these, go “where’s the rest, op” and feel encouraged to write more.

All that being said - since you were so nice about this, I will give you a (3000 word) excerpt from one of the WIPs - Dead Superheroes Walking, which is the one about the characters who died/were dusted in Infinity War on a road trip through the Soul Stone.

---

“Anyone for a game of twenty questions?” Sam asked, after they’d been walking for maybe ten minutes.

“Really?” Bucky said. “Twenty questions?”

“I don’t think ‘I Spy’ would work too well. Not a lot of interesting landmarks. Or hadn’t you noticed that the landscape keeps repeating?”

“I am Groot,” said Groot.

“And I have no idea what that means,” Sam said.

Sam was right, Wanda realized. The landscape was repeating. It wasn’t obvious, at first, but there was only one tree, over and over; only one rock placed near to it. The sky was a flat and even orange.

A faint shiver ran down Wanda’s spine. Bucky stopped, though, visibly disconcerted.

“What the hell is this place,” he said.

“Does it matter?” Sam asked. “We’re not exactly going anywhere else. All right, I’ve got it. Twenty questions, yes or no answers only.”

“I am Groot?” said Groot. Sam eyed him.

“I’m not going to take that off the count,” he said.

“Is it alive?” T’Challa asked.

“Yep,” Sam said.

“Guess that rules us out,” Bucky said. Sam snorted, and T’Challa cracked a small smile. Wanda stared down at a small, triangular rock in front of her feet.

“All right,” Bucky said. “Is it an animal?”

“Yes. Two questions down. Wanda?”

She bent down and picked up the rock. It left red dust on her fingers, and when she pressed her fingers together it crumbled like chalk. She half expected the dust to vanish, but the red stain on her fingertips stayed.

“Wanda?” Sam said, more gently.

“Sorry,” she said. “Is it a person?”

“Nope,” Sam said. “That’s three.”

She wiped her hand off on her clothes. This place wasn’t right - she could feel it in her bones, deep down where her magic ought to be. But nothing had been right in the last few days. Very few things in Wanda’s life had been right. Why should her death be any different?

It only seemed unfair that the others should be here, too.

They sky did not change, but they stopped walking eventually - less because any of them were actually tired than because it seemed like they should. Or maybe because they were tired of walking and wanted some change, even if there was very little change to be had. The road went on. The landscape didn’t alter.

And no one else appeared.

“It can’t just be us,” Sam said. “Other people died. Where are they?”

Nobody had an answer for him, unless the tree’s “I am Groot” was an answer none of them could understand. Wanda thought it might be something to do with the fact that they’d all died when Thanos had snapped his fingers, but she stayed quiet, staring off at the horizon and only half listening to Bucky and Sam going back and forth at each other.

“I see something,” T’Challa said abruptly. They all turned and followed the line of his arm.

“I can’t see anything,” Sam said.

“Give it a sec,” Bucky said. “He’s probably got a hundred extra yards visibility on me. Maybe 150 on you–”

“I am Groot,” Groot said. Wanda strained her eyes, some part of her wishing - hoping–

“Is that a dog?” Sam said.

A moment later Wanda saw it too, and slumped. It did look like a dog padding towards them - or at least, it certainly wasn’t a person.

“That’s not a dog,” T’Challa said.

“Fox, I think,” Bucky said. “What the fuck is a fox doing here?”

“I don’t think it’s a fox, either,” T’Challa said. He shifted, like he was thinking about getting into a fighting stance. Wanda stepped forward, reaching for her powers, but nothing was there.

What would be the point, anyway? You can only die once.

The fox - and it was a fox, Wanda could see that now, though black instead of red - slowed as it began to draw closer. It sat down, still a ways away, and cocked its head, looking at them.

“This is weird,” Sam said. T’Challa was still frowning.

“What is it?” Bucky asked him. T’Challa shook his head.

“I’m not certain.”

The fox stood, stretched, and changed, unfolding into a person. Wanda sucked in a breath, staring at the man now walking toward them: dark-haired, pale, lean and taller than Bucky or T’Challa. A vague sense of familiarity nagged at her, but she couldn’t say from where.

The man stopped, still several paces from them, and cocked his head just as the fox had. “Well,” he said, a faint rasp in his voice. “This is new.”

Wanda stared at him, trying to remember where she recognized him from. “New?”

“Yes,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting anyone else. But then, this time is different.”

“Wait,” Sam said abruptly. “Shit. Are you-”

“Mm,” he said, still looking at Wanda. T’Challa’s eyes were narrowed, too, and Sam’s. Bucky looked blankly at them both.

“What?”

“It’s always nice to be recognized,” the stranger said dryly.

“Loki,” Sam said. “That’s fucking Loki. Right?” Wanda’s eyes widened, but he - Loki - just shrugged one shoulder.

“So I am. Or was. I’m not certain of the appropriate tense.” His gaze swept across them, indifferent, disinterested.

“You’re dead, too,” Wanda said. Loki glanced at her, eyes focusing briefly before they slid back into dullness. No, exhaustion.

“Or something,” he said.

“‘Or something?’” Sam said. Loki’s eyes flicked in his direction.

“This doesn’t feel like death,” he said, “but I remember the feeling of my neck breaking in Thanos’s hand fairly clearly, so…” Wanda flinched, and she thought she saw Sam’s eye twitch. She remembered Thor coming roaring down from the sky, thunder and lightning in his voice, and understood. She looked down.

“What do you mean that this doesn’t feel like death,” T’Challa said into the silence.

“I know a little of what death tastes like,” Loki said after a moment. “This isn’t it.”

“What does that mean,” Bucky said, looking agitated and uncertain.

“I am Groot,” said Groot, and Loki glanced at him, something briefly flashing across his expression before it was gone. Pain, Wanda thought.

“Not entirely accurate,” he said, “but not entirely inaccurate, either.” There was a brief pause.

“You can understand him?” Bucky said. Loki shrugged again. “What did he say?”

“It’s irrelevant.” Loki’s eyes moved back to Wanda. “I suppose it’s too much to hope that you were simply the high cost of victory?” Wanda looked down, somehow feeling ashamed of her failure. Loki let out a quiet huff. “Pity.”

Bucky, oddly, snorted.

“Thanos gained all of the Infinity Stones,” T’Challa said. “Then…” He trailed off. “I am not entirely certain what happened then.”

Loki made a sort of hm noise, glancing at T’Challa sidelong. “So you didn’t die in battle,” he said.

“If so, I do not remember it,” T’Challa said.

“I am Groot,” Groot said to Loki, whose head swiveled violently toward him, eyes sharpening.

“Gamora,” he said, and there was a wealth of hatred and fear in that word. “You are a companion of hers?”

“I am Groot,” Groot said emphatically, and Loki blinked, then pressed his lips together and exhaled in a short burst.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter now.”

“Can you maybe translate what he’s saying,” Bucky said irritably. “Since all the rest of us can hear is the same three words over and over.”

“He says that Gamora claimed Thanos meant to use the completed Gauntlet to halve all life in the universe,” Loki said. “If you know that he achieved his goal, then presumably you were part of the unlucky half. Though that does not explain why you are here. Or else does not explain why I am.”

“And who’s Gamora,” Sam said, with such exaggerated patience that it demonstrated anything but.

“An old acquaintance,” Loki said. He sounded distracted.

“I am Groot,” Groot said, and this time Wanda could hear the near pride in his voice. Loki didn’t respond. He was scanning their number again, Wanda realized, more closely.

She bit her lip, then raised her voice and said, “Thor’s alive.” His gaze snapped to her, and she made herself hold it though her instinct was to look down. “At least, he was when I...he drove an axe into Thanos’s chest. It didn’t work, it was too late, but…” She trailed off.

Loki glanced down, his eyes half closing, and Wanda thought she caught a brief flicker at the corner of his mouth, not quite a smile, and a barely audible, “ah, Thor.” Then his eyes were back on hers and he said simply, “thank you for informing me,” with a lack of feeling that made Wanda frown.

“You haven’t asked who any of us are,” Bucky said.

“So I have not,” Loki said. “I am not certain it is precisely relevant.”

“Excuse you,” Sam said. Loki glanced at him, that tired indifference returning.

“I approached because I was curious. I wasn’t intending to stay, nor would I think you were inclined to encourage it.”

T’Challa was studying Loki with curious intensity. “Were you going somewhere?”

“No,” Loki said, and then paused and adjusted, “perhaps.”

“I am Groot?” Groot said, and Loki’s lips pressed briefly together.

“It means perhaps. And don’t be crude.”

“I’m with him,” Sam said. “What does perhaps mean?” Loki looked briefly annoyed, and Sam said, “come on. We’re all dead here. Or - not. Which still begs the question as far as I’m concerned of what we are.”

Loki’s eyes went back to her, and Wanda shifted. “What?” She asked. “Why do you keep looking at me?”

“You haven’t noticed anything strange, then?” He asked. “Felt anything?”

Too many things, Wanda thought, but she didn’t think that was what he meant, and now they were all looking at her. Wanda hesitated.

“I don’t have my powers,” she said slowly. Loki made a derisive noise.

“Of course you don’t,” he said. “Do you need them to sense what’s around you? Midgardian magicians. Norns.”

Wanda glared at him, but took a breath and tried to turn inward, like she was going to use her power. It still wasn’t there, but this time, without distractions…

She jerked and saw a satisfied glint in Loki’s eyes, just for an instant. “There,” he said.

“Wanda, what is it?” Sam asked, looking suspiciously at Loki.

“I don’t know,” she said. “But it feels like…” She searched for the right words. “Like a heartbeat,” she said finally, even if that wasn’t quite right.

Bucky’s expression was a mixture of horror and alarm. “A heartbeat?”

“So that’s what it feels like to you,” Loki said thoughtfully. He seemed more engaged now than he had been at first, and somehow even though it shouldn’t matter that felt like a good thing. Maybe because nothing else was.

“It’s not actually,” Wanda said quickly. “That’s just sort of what it feels like - to me, anyway. It’s...different for you?”

Loki shrugged. T’Challa shifted.

“I know what she means,” he said. “Though I wouldn’t have described it like that. But there is...something.”

“Interesting,” Loki said, glancing at T’Challa and looking him over with slightly more interest. “To answer your implied question, I would call it a...resonance.”

“A resonance with what,” Sam asked.

“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be bothering to talk to you,” Loki said. “But partly it is that which makes me think this is something other than simple death.”

“What is there other than ‘simple death,’” Bucky said tightly.

“That is the question, isn’t it,” Loki said. “Maybe nothing. Maybe I am wrong. But if I am not…”

“If you’re not, what,” Bucky said, even tighter.

“Then it begs the question of why, doesn’t it?” Loki rolled his neck in a slow circle, and Wanda could have sworn she heard something crack. “At least, such was my thought. But maybe it is just desperation.”

He didn’t sound desperate. He didn’t sound much of anything.

“Why not stay with us,” Wanda said abruptly. Everyone else turned to stare at her, Loki included, and she straightened, turning toward her friends. “I mean it,” she said. “Why not? We’re all here together. And if he’s right and there’s a why, a reason...wouldn’t it suggest that’s true for all of us, including him?” She paused, and added, “and besides - what can he do to us, anyway?”

Loki barked a laugh. “That is a fair point,” he murmured.

“How do we know this isn’t some kind of trick?” T’Challa asked, his eyes narrowed.

“You don’t,” Loki said. “But I will say that you vastly overestimate my interest in you. Well, the majority of you. And your witch has a point: what is it you think I will do?”

“I don’t know,” T’Challa said. “That’s what worries me.”

“And ‘our witch’ has a name,” Sam said a little sourly.

Loki shrugged. “As you will. It makes little difference to me.” He moved around them and started to walk away.

“I am Groot,” Groot muttered, and strode after him, long tree-legs catching up in a few strides. “I am Groot?” He said to Loki, who checked himself and looked at him, his face tightening.

“Was, yes,” he said. “Why?”

“I am Groot,” Groot said definitively, and Loki shook his head.

“Call back your child,” he said, with a sharp gesture at Groot.

“Child?” Sam said, eyebrows shooting up.

“He’s an adolescent Flora Colossus,” Loki said, as though it were obvious. “And he is not following me. I don’t care who you were friends with.”

Thor, Wanda thought. Groot didn’t know any of them, but he’d known Thor, at least a little, and Loki was Thor’s brother, and Groot was, apparently, a teenager, among strangers who couldn’t understand him, who had just died.

Wanda’s chest ached. “If he wants to,” she said, “I don’t see why he shouldn’t.”

“I’m not interested in playing nursemaid–”

“I am Groot,” Groot said, and Loki gave him a hard look.

“No, you are not,” he said. “I’ve met grown Flora Colossi and you aren’t it. You’re barely more than a sapling. Maybe - what, four years old?”

“You know what,” Bucky said, “I’m with Wanda, actually. And the, uh...Groot. This place is weird. I think we should stick together, and it seems like he knows more about this place than any of the rest of us do.” His eyes settled on Loki. “And it’s not like we have a whole lot to lose, right now.”

Sam gave Bucky a long, skeptical look and then glanced at T’Challa, who shrugged.

“You assume I am interested in putting up with the lot of you,” Loki said flatly. He looked tense, Wanda thought. Like he was expecting some kind of trap. Wanda tried to summon a smile.

“You said you came over because you were curious,” she said. “And if you’re right, and there is some reason we’re all here...isn’t that something else to be curious about?”

“I am Groot,” said Groot, and Loki glanced at him, jaw twitching.

“I’m dead, you twig,” he said. “If not now, then probably soon. And if I did need protecting, you wouldn’t be much help.”

Bucky snorted, poorly muffled. Wanda bit her lip so she didn’t smile. Groot’s expression was hard for her to read, but it looked to her eyes like a glare.

Loki exhaled loudly and looked away. “Fine,” he said. “If you are inclined...I suppose there’s no harm in traveling adjacently.”

“Traveling where?” Sam asked. “You make it sound like you have an actual destination.”

“I have a...feeling,” Loki said, though something about the brief pause before he spoke made Wanda think there was something he wasn’t saying. The question was if it was important or not. “No more than that.”

“Well,” T’Challa said after a few moments of hesitation, “that is more than I have, at the moment. And so far as I know we weren’t going anywhere in particular, so…”

“I guess that settles it,” Wanda said. Loki eyed her like he suspected her of having some ulterior motive. She decided to pretend not to notice. “So which way are we going?”

[cupstealer]

Re: your last ask.

I am also no longer into the fandom side of hockey anymore and hardly ever read fan fic anymore. (A senior thesis will do that to a person 😔) Buut I want you to know that I think about contact high on a regular basis. Once a week maybe type of regular, when I’m wishing I was reading something fun and not a science journal. Is that weird?! I mean I know that sounds a little crazy- but it might be the greatest fic I’ve ever read. While I was reading it I got the sense that it would be one of my favorites, but I had no idea how much it would still ruminate with me a year and a half later. I don’t think I can recall a single other rpf work like I can that one. You are such an amazing writer! And I hope you continue to write- whatever it may be that your writing about! 💕

(Sorry to keep putting these on y’all’s dash, but it’s the only way I can THANK these anons and they definitely need thanking.)

Your timing OP ;.; I really got this ask when I needed it most. 💕 Thank you thank you thank you! Sorry for the delayed response—it’s so hard to figure out how to thank somebody and explain how much words like this mean while not sounding like a flu patient or something.

To answer your question, it’s not weird! There are absolutely fics that live rent-free in my head to the degree that I’m basically sponsoring them on a permanent residency program [cut to footage of bring it if you really want it by staraflur]. And god, what an honor that Contact High is like that for you 🙏 Contact High is my favorite thing that I’ve written. A lot (pfff, all) of the content was so self-indulgent for me, just utter wish-fulfillment, which I usually try to dial back, but I wanted to see what might happen if I really leaned in instead. (The thing with toothpaste/walking in on someone actually happened to me when I was staying over at a friend’s house in high school... Sorry again to her brother, I promise I barely saw anything.) There isn’t a single element of that fic that I wasn’t excited about while I was writing it. And it’s that much more touching when the work that feels the most ‘me’ is someone’s favorite.

Anon, I hope you get some free time to read fun stuff soon! You deserve it. And good luck on your thesis! Defend that sumbitch like you’re Connor Murphy (no idea if it’s the kind of thesis you defend, but you get my meaning). Thank you again 💕

I am still writing, by the way! Just as slow as ever though, and for a very mixed bag of subjects! No hockey lately, though I have a few unpublished 1988 WIPs that I haven’t touched in a long stretch yet haven’t let go of either. Every fall, I pump myself up to roll up my sleeves and edit/finish this genre-confused frankenstein of a haunted house-type fic, and I haven’t given up hope yet! (Plus if I finish it, I can finally read jezziejay’s witch Jonny fic—which got posted while I was writing mine, and I made myself bookmark it for later so I wouldn’t be influenced or in my head about any overlap even though they’re almost certainly totally different in every way. I’m dying to read hers ;.;)

Hmm I hesitate to say this, but... If anyone is really interested regardless of fandom, there’s also an unorthodox fic I wrote as a Christmas present for my sister back in 2017 that she keeps telling me to post. (I know, and it gets weirder from there.) I think I want to but I’ve hesitated for several reasons. First: I need to re-do the ending now that I’m not scrambling to finish it on Christmas Eve. Second: It is a pairing that does not exist and kind of bananas. More info under the cut if you’re interested.

Basically, years ago, one of my sisters and I had a looong conversation about who was worthy of being shipped with Stacker Pentecost from Pacific Rim, and when none of the characters from the movie satisfied us, we reached out into the vast universe of basically anyone from any media to find him love, guess-and-check style. After literal hours, I brought up one of my favorite under-appreciated characters, Linus Caldwell from Ocean’s Eleven (Matt Damon). Which makes no sense, but doesn’t it a little? It became a running joke, and then a running a joke that I was gonna write it, and then not a joke. Ain’t that the way?

So yeah—Third: I’m hesitant to get somebody excited about a new hockey fic only to open the email and see it’s a batshit crossover that literally no one (except my sisters) is asking for. That being said, I started it as a joke/challenge, but ended up making something that I find quite a fun little ride because I was so loose with it (because, like, who’s ever gonna see this, right? Some real dance like nobody’s watching shit). I’ve written a bunch of stuff never meant to see daylight, but this fic in particular feels complete. It just has a lot going on (Hidden identities! Never Been Kissed-style fake student/professor tension! Chase scenes! Cameos! Close-up magic! Heist crew banter! Idris Elba’s North London accent! My total lack of military knowledge!). Also it’s over 30k words. (Yeah.)

Is there any interest in me posting this?? To be clear, I’m definitely not expecting it to be popular or anything, but taking the time to fix it up only makes sense if I know at least two people will lay eyes one it, lol. You don’t have to know both films really well for it to make sense, but familiarity with the Ocean’s trilogy and characters probably helps a lot for context since it takes place in between those movies. Goes without saying that no offense will be taken if there isn’t clamoring demand amongst hockey rpfers for 30k of Pacific Rim crossed over with a George Clooney movie franchise in a fic that has neither giant robots nor giant monsters (nor George Clooney, in any appreciable quantity)... Think I’m capable of taking that sentiment on the chin. 🤙