#they just dump flour on it and leave it there

[hustlerose]

The Binging of Babish: Beef Stroganoff from Symphogear

Ingredients:

1 pound surloin steak, thinly sliced (it doesn't have to be beef)

2 tablespoons mushrooms

8 onions

3 tomatoes

3/4 cup heavy cream

1/4 cup (?) flour

1/2 cup sour cream

Quarter the onions, cutting them from the top.

Quarter the tomatoes, cutting them from the side.

Add the flour to the beef (it doesn't have to be beef)

Simmer onions, tomatoes, mushrooms and cream until reduced and golden brown. Add salt and pepper.

Serve with a huge scoop of white rice, garnish with sour cream.

Boys don't know about this.

[teaboot]

Congratulations on your kitten! A few (a lot) bits of advice from someone who raised 4 kittens:

Watch your step. It's very easy to accidentally squish them. My kitten used to hide in a pillowcase and she was so small that you wouldn't even notice. Pat down everything before you sit.

Kittens are small enough to hide in EVERYTHING. I thought two of mine were lost. They were just sleeping under a closet.

Kittens usually will try to escape the room as soon as possible. Be careful when opening doors so they don't get out.

Cats will meow a lot to get your attention so you'll open the door.

Don't run around them. They get scared.

Cats will try their best to get food. They will break dishes to get anything with dairy (they push them off the counter). They can open pizza boxes, take off covers. I wish I was joking. They also love to claw open flour bags and dump flour everywhere. Keep your food somewhere they can't open.

Cats love plants. Keep them out of reach or your cat will eat them.

Cats will eat everything. I mean everything. Do not leave food out.

Do not let the kitten get somewhere high. They can get up. But getting down is another story. (usually this is rectified once the cat gets older).

There is a very high chance the cat will sleep on you if you go to sleep.

Cats CAN open doors. Kittens can't, but older cats can.

Cats think strings are toys. Which means if you wear those pants with strings at the waist to tighten them they will attack you

Cats like to eat hair for some reason.

They will try to drink out of the toilet.

Some cats like to knead you. It's painful bc they use claws. Wear thick pants if they're on you.

It is VERY hard to pick up a sleeping kitten when they're on you. Even if you need to go somewhere.

Thank you!! :D

[leahsgirl]

homemade love | leah williamson x reader

why am i getting attached to a fake scenario i made up in my head i need help.

anyways happy valentine’s day & enjoy this blurb of pure fluff !

-

"do you want mamma to pour the flour or is wren doing it?" the blonde asked the nearly three year old next to her as she made sure to get the measurements right.

"wren do it!" taking the measuring cup that leah held out for her she dumped the contents in the bowl, being a little off target and some ending up on the counter instead. "good job beautiful."

leah had decided to surprise you, her fiancé, with breakfast in bed. it was valentines day after all and she loved to treat you in any way possible. she roped your daughter in of course, jumping at any opportunity to have the extra bonding time with her mini-me.

today was one of the rare instances where leah was actually awake before you considering it was often you having to pull the defender out of bed which was not an easy task could you just say.

"okay crack an egg into the mixture." she read from the cookbook open in front of her. "watch these skills kiddo." leah smirked as she took the egg and attempted to break it with one hand only for her to fail miserably and have the shell fall into the batter. wren giggled "silly mamma."

"shh don't tell anyone." she picked out the unwanted bits and booped her toddler's nose, leaving a flour mark on it.

eventually the pair finished the pancake mix after a quick flour fight and leah poured the mixture into the pan, flipping it with ease much to wrens amusement shown by her excited claps.

the skipper plated them up and let wren take control of the cream "okay! that's enough darlin." grabbing the bottle off of her after seeing what was practically a mountain of the whipped substance. finishing off the meal with a few strawberries and blueberries leah moved it all onto a tray.

"lets take this to mummy shall we?"

you stirred in your sleep as you felt a weight press onto your stomach. "mummy! mummy! wake up." the infant babbled as she continued to climb all over you.

"morning bubba." you gave her a weak smile while adjusting to the light coming through the window. "i made you bekfast!"

“oo did you now?”

"i'd say it was more a joint effort but i suppose she was the better chef." you looked up to see leah stood there with a goofy smile on her face holding a tray just above her waist.

"happy valentine's day baby." she placed the food down onto your lap, bending down and planting a sweet kiss on your lips.

"oh my, thank you guys." your heart swelled at the gesture - just picturing the behind the scenes you wished you were awake to see. "eat it?" wren who had now cuddled into your side looked up expectantly.

"hm i think wrenny should have first taste, considering she did make it after all." cutting a triangular piece out the stack you fed it to the young girl watching as her eyes lit up from the taste of sugar. "is it good?"

wren nodded vigorously and gave a thumbs up making both you and leah chuckle. you had to admit, they were good pancakes, almost too good considering leah's cooking history, she was by far not the designated chef of the family.

"wait hang on i forgot your present." leah suddenly realised as she dashed out of the room.

you look quizzically at your toddler "what's she got up her sleeve now?" only getting a shrug in return.

your fiancé now came back with her guitar she had been learning to play for a couple of months in her hand. "may i present to you ‘you are in love’ leah williamson version."

you couldn't help but laugh when you figured out what she was about to do. playing the chords to the song she began singing looking directly at you the whole time.

''cause you can hear it in the silence you can feel it on the way home you can see it with the lights out you are in love, true love you are in love'

you loved seeing leah like this; all cheesy and goofy, a complete 180 to how she was on the pitch. she may not be fully in tune but she did have a good voice that you could happily sit and listen to all day long.

wrapping the song up she took a bow as you and wren applauded her. "surprised it wasn't 'our song'." you say knowing how that was the older girl's favourite taylor song.

"thought i'd be a little spontaneous gorgeous." she winked as she now plonked herself on the bed so wren was in between the both of you.

"well i guess it's my turn now huh." rooting through your bedside table drawer. "i don't know if I'm going to beat the pancakes and serenades but here." you passed both wren and leah neatly wrapped gifts. "princess open yours first." you didn't have to tell wren twice before wrapping paper was flying everywhere revealing a baby doll wearing an arsenal shirt with the number 24 on it.

you looked at leah for any form of reaction but she clearly hadn't caught on yet simply sharing wrens excitement at the new toy "you can bring her to mummy and mamma's games."

"okay leah open yours." anticipation was bubbling inside the both of you.

the blondes mouth dropped open when she picked up the items at hand. "are ya serious?" doing a double take at the pregnancy scan photos and test she was holding in her hand. "it worked?"

nodding she rushed off the bed to your side, picking you up and twirling you around. "okay okay put me down! i don't want to start being sick before i have to."

she did as requested and held the scan right in front her face still in disbelief. "september 2024, twins.`' casually slipping it into conversation.

"fuck off." she said incredulously which earned her a glare off you, reminding her there is a child in the room.

"wren your going to be a big sister!" now shifting attention to her daughter - it being her turn to be picked up and bounced around.

"sister?" the little girl questioned. you pointed at your stomach "there's two babies in mummy's tummy." wren reached her small arms out to touch your belly "hello!"

"they can't talk yet love, they've gotta grow for a while in there, make sure they're strong and healthy just like you." the centre-back explained.

you smiled at the interaction. leah was such a good mum. you couldn't wait to make your family even bigger in a few months time. "good valentines day gift then?"

leah pulled you in to her side with her free arm. "the best. i love you." she pressed her lips onto yours, conveying every emotion possible. little laughs coming from the small body in the older girl's arms as she watched her grossly in love mothers.

"oh you find it funny when we kiss do you?" you quirked an eyebrow and watched as she nodded.

you pecked leah's mouth again..and again, hearing the giggles make a return.

"i think it's someone else's turn now." the defender smiled smugly and you quickly caught on, both bombarding your daughter with kisses on the face as she squealed happily.

god you loved your valentines.

[spencereidluver]

P is for Perfect

february 04, 2009

summary: You and Spencer bake cookies together

word count: 1.1k

warnings: an insane amount of fluff. like maybe call your dentist before reading

“It doesn’t have to be exact, Spence,” you giggle and playfully knock your hip into him. Spencer stood over the counter, a kitchen scale, butter knife, measuring cup, and bag of flour beneath him. He was meticulously measuring the exact amount of flour. You couldn’t help but smile at him, so smart, but so oblivious to the leniency in the world of baking. 

Spencer looks up at you, his lips curing into a shy smile. “I know, but I want them to be perfect.” He finally levels out the flour and dumps it into the metal bowl. “Baking is a science, after all.”

You laughed and shook your head. “It’s more of a chemistry I think. It doesn’t have to be perfect, it’s okay to just have fun.”

His eyes soften as he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I am having fun. Especially because I get to make them with you.”

You can’t help but fall into his touch when such sweet words are leaving his lips. His smug smile makes you want to collect yourself though, not wanting to give in to his cockiness. “Alright then, Dr. Reid, these better be the best damn cookies to ever enter my mouth.”

You and Spencer continue to mix the ingredients. His attention to detail and your more relaxed approach meshed perfectly. Always a perfect duo, you and Spencer were. Whether it be your brains on a case, your love for one another, or apparently, your baking skills. 

You poured in the chocolate chips directly from the bag, a clear overshot of the recommended amount. You turned around to toss the empty bag in the garbage, but apparently, you were much faster at this than Spencer thought you’d be.

“Stealing ingredients now, are we?” you ask him, catching him red handed popping a small handful of chocolate chips in his mouth.

Spencer grinned mischievously as he chewed. “Well if you’re going to add three times the amount the recipe calls for surely a few can be spared.” He giggles and grabs another chocolate chip from the bowl. “Here, have one,” he holds it up to your lips.

You open your mouth allowing for him to gently place it on your tongue. You lock eyes, his filled with a sweetness that went beyond the chocolate. You lean in and kiss him, tasting the lingering chocolate on his lips. He hovers over your shoulder as he watches you scoop the dough into small balls on the baking sheet, reaching around your waist to put the pans in the oven. He sets the oven timer before turning to you and pulling you into his arms.

Spencer stood there holding you for several minutes. He buried his head in the crook of your neck and pressed his body firmly against yours. You held him silently, unable to speak even if you wanted to. Your face was pressed to his chest, fingers rubbing his back gently. He was in a t-shirt, which was quite rare for him as usually if he wasn’t in his work attire he was either in his pajamas or cozied up in a sweater. 

He lifts his head from your shoulder, arms still wrapped around you. “I never thought I’d find someone like you,” he whispers. His gaze is so adoring. 

“And I can’t believe I found you,” you say as you place a hand on his cheek. 

He rests his hand atop yours, fingers between your knuckles. “I love you Y/n,” he says, pulling you impossibly closer with the arm still around your waist.

“Spencer, I love you so much,” you respond. You pull him down and nuzzle his nose in an eskimo kiss, which causes him to giggle. “But we should clean up before the cookies are done.”

“Do you think we can get it done in the four minutes and fifty-seven seconds left on the oven timer?” He asks, stepping away from you and running water from the sink over a cloth.

He rings the rag out and tosses it at you, leaving the water running and adding soap to the sink. He begins taking the dishes over as you wipe the countertops.

You notice a small glob of dough on the edge of the stovetop and collect it on your index finger. Turning around to face the sink- and Spencer’s back- you tap his shoulder with your clean hand. He notices the cheeky grin on your face which causes him to smile as well.

“I got something for you,” you say, bringing your finger up to his face and smearing the dough on his nose. 

“Hey, no fair!” he playfully pouts. “My hands are wet, I can’t get it off!”

“Aw, isn’t that unfortunate,” you grin, turning back around to finish cleaning the counters.

beep

You dropped the rag on the counter and slid an oven mitt over your hand. You sat the fresh cookies on the stovetop, stopping the timer and turning off the oven as you did so. 

The smell of fresh cookies filled Spencer’s apartment; if they weren’t clearly piping hot, they’d all be gone right this moment. You approach Spencer who was nearing the last of the dishes and lean your head onto his shoulder.

“Well well well,” you say, “what do we have here, slowpoke?”

“I could’ve been done in time if you wouldn't have distracted me,” Spencer argues.

“You can tell yourself that, pretty boy,” you say and plant a kiss on the underside of his jaw.

You transferred the warm cookies into a container and brought the baking sheet- the final dish- over to Spencer. He quickly scrubs it, then dries his hands. 

He gives a satisfied sigh. “Alright,” he says, placing a hand on your lower back to direct you to the stove with him. “Ready to try them?” 

He picks one up from the container and breaks it in half, handing you the slightly larger piece. He watches as you take a bite from the corner, anticipating your reaction.

“These are really good,” you say, taking another bite. He takes his first, nodding in agreement as the flavor sets in. 

“Dare I say perfect?” He says, a nod to your earlier comment about them not needing to be.

“They are,” you agree. “Probably because of me.” You smile at him.

“Oh whatever,” he says with a sassy tone, rolling his eyes as he takes another cookie from the bowl.

____

next chapter: in progress

other parts: Spencer Reid A-Z Masterlist

view the masterlist in a calendar version! 

____

a/n: this part is kind of just a filler lil blurb. im working on some larger story elements, and am writing a part that actually takes place within an episode of the show with y/n written in as a character. assuming that part does well, i’ll probably be doing some more of those because its actually a ton of fun. anyways thank you all for the suggestions and support!!

read this for information regarding my use of the term “eskimo kiss” in this part

____

Have Recommendations? visit my recommendations page to submit your suggestion, no matter how big or small!

____

taglist:

@justlivinginadaydream @dij-ology @navs-bhat @sammy-4103 @ada--44 @moongirl27

@hopelessheaven @shycreationdreamland @cultish-corner @violetvsworld @ivyflowers13 @taygrls

@hookergutss @random-3455 @nmw-am @bookworm124 @hizzielover @jem08

@princessbowbaby @theofficialfunk @skylions-den @smalltownbeautyqueen @spencereidapologist @lunajay33

@softlysunrays @maybe-not-this @wannabewolf @sylv3in @silver138 @sarcasm-and-stiles

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@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @guacam011y @super-nerd22 @khxna

[sexhaver]

writing to encourage you to post a recipe of your successful smashed potatoes!🙌 that shit looked nutritionally dense and I love more food per food when possible especially if tasty

ingredience:

3lbs fingerling potatoes (i used a 50/50 mix of yellow and red but whatever works)

6ish cups broth (if you use veggie broth this is vegetarian)

1 pint heavy cream

3-4tbsp butter

6ish cloves garlic (literally impossible to overdo the garlic here, go with your heart)

salt, pepper, thyme, and parsley

flour

BONUS: cayenne pepper and mustard powder

steps:

wash the dirt off your potatoes and dump them in a big pot (ideally one with close to 90 degree angles on the bottom instead of a curve). pour in all the broth. if the potatoes aren't entirely submerged, add water until they are (but just barely), then turn the heat on high and put a lid on it

while the potatoes start boiling, crush and peel your garlic WITHOUT CHOPPING IT

add 2 tbsp of butter to a sauce pot and heat on medium high until melted and sizzling

add the garlic cloves and swirl/baste them in the butter for a few minutes until they and the butter both start to turn brown

dump in all of the heavy cream, then add salt, pepper, parsley, thyme, cayenne pepper, and powdered mustard to taste. unfortunately i do not have measurements for any of the spices because i cooked this while drunk. follow your heart here

reduce the heat on the heavy cream mixture until it's simmering (not all the way down to low, you still want some bubbles). by this point the potatoes should be boiling (leave the lid on). set a timer for somewhere around 23-25 minutes

come back and stir the heavy cream mixture every few minutes, and stir the potatoes once or twice throughout their cooking process

when the timer goes off, strain the potatoes out from the broth, BUT make sure to save at least two cups of the broth before pouring the rest down the drain

use a potato masher to mash the potatoes, skin and all (none of this fucking around with the back of a spoon). ideally you should probably do this in a separate bowl to avoid microplastics in your food, but im not a cop (this is why we picked a pot with 90 degree angles in step 1)

once the potatoes are properly mashed, dump most (but not all!) of the reduced heavy cream mixture in with them and continue mashing to spread it out evenly (this will also mash in the garlic cloves, which is why we didn't need to slice/dice them earlier). you should leave behind enough heavy cream to coat the bottom of the pot and then some

let the potatoes rest for a second and put the heavy cream back on medium-high heat. add 2 tbsp of butter and wait until it melts, using the whisk to mix it in with the remaining heavy cream

once the butter is melted, sprinkle in some flour, using the whisk to integrate it with the butter + cream mixture. again, i don't have exact measurements for this because i was drunk, but you want to keep adding flour and whisking until you're left with some pretty thick clumps of what looks like brown dough

crank the heat just a little higher while whisking the dough around to get it nice and burnt all over. once you're satisfied with your work and/or you start smelling burning, dump in some of the saved broth to deglaze the stuff burnt to the bottom of the pan (it should sizzle at first, that's good + normal). keep up the whisking motion so the added liquid is integrated with the dough, then add more liquid and repeat over time. eventually you should end up with something recognizable as gravy. congrats, you just made gravy from roux!

use the rest of the broth to thin out the mashed potatoes if necessary, mashing it in just like the heavy cream mixture

????

profit!

[mamawasatesttube]

"Your hands are freezing." from the prompt list :]

Ma hasn't been sleeping too well lately, since Kal went missing. Now that he's back home, safe and sound in Metropolis, Kon has finally managed to succeed in turning Ma's own gentle-but-firm bullying techniques on her so that she'll actually get some rest, and you bet he's gonna be riding that high for a while.

It's a pretty warm spring day, so Kon decided he'll take the outside chores while Pa handles the inside ones. And he's breezing through 'em pretty fast! He's milked the cows, fed the chickens, collected the eggs, and weeded the kitchen garden, and...

And the entire time, Kal's been in the sky, way up out of sight, staring at him.

At this point, it's getting kinda ridiculous. Kon dumps the last of the kitchen scraps into the compost, washes his hands off at the hose, and leaps into the sky.

The sun buoys him up, full of energy and warmth as the air grows cooler around him. The farmhouse grows tiny under his feet, all the lush fields and farmland sprawling out towards the horizon. His TTK keeps the wind from mussing his hair as he zooms higher (up, up and away, right?), until he zips through a wisp of cloud and slows.

Kal, caught red-handed, gives him an awkward smile, clearly trying not to look too guilty. "Ah," he says. "So you noticed me."

"Uh, yeah, dude." Kon squints at him. His cape flaps behind him in the breeze; he's fiddling with the edge of it with one hand, almost like he's nervous. Since when does Kal get nervous? "You've been watching me for, like, an hour. It's getting freaky, man. What's going on?"

Kal rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. Isn't that wild? Superman, sheepish? What's gotten into him?

"Sorry," he says. "I, just, hm... How do I put this..."

He drifts closer, his eyes never leaving Kon's face. Kon tilts his head to one side, studying him. He looks... tired. Not, like, physically tired—that would be alarming, 'cuz they're in direct sun—but like, tired. Kon heard vaguely about the stuff that happened with Kandor, with Preus, but looking at Kal sets off some alarm bells. He knows what happened, but what happened?

Kal reaches out, and his palm brushes Kon's cheek.

Kon scrunches up his face in mild protest. "Dude, your hands are freezing! How long—"

Kal jerks away as if burned. Horror flashes through his eyes before he wrests it back behind the curtain. "I'm sorry!"

Kon blinks. "Uh... you didn't hurt me or anything." What is going on with Kal? "Your hands're just cold. You've been up here since way before I noticed you, haven't you?"

On impulse, he reaches out and grabs Kal's hands. They're cold, but he knows to expect that now; it only takes him a second to focus the energy behind his eyes, to warm them back up. Kal's the one who taught him that trick, just a few months ago, when his heat vision started to come in.

"I've... been here for a while, yes." Kal's voice is oddly soft, almost... fragile. He's staring at their joined hands like they contain all the secrets of the universe, and, uh, wow, Kon is definitely missing something here. "I'm sorry for freaking you out."

Kon's pretty sure Kal's the one who's actually freaked out, but if he says that, he knows Kal will deny it and shoot off back towards Metropolis. "No big," he says instead, and grins wryly. "You may as well come down 'n' come in, though. Pa's making cobbler."

Something eases in Kal's expression, and Kon knows he said something right. Warmth settles into his chest.

"Pa's making cobbler?" Kal raises an eyebrow, glancing down towards the itty-bitty farmhouse far below. "Ma let him?"

"He promised he wouldn't make a mess with the flour this time." Kon grins. "But maybe you better check on him, just to be sure."

A little of the ever-present weight on Kal's shoulders seems to fall away as he smiles. "You do make a compelling argument, Kon-El. Maybe I should."

"I make great points all the time, Kal-El." Kon squeezes his hands, bursting with pride. Kal's approval always makes him feel like he's basking in sunlight all over again. "C'mon, then. Krypto'll be excited to see you, too. And you can bring back treats for Lois!"

"Yes, yes, you've already persuaded me," Kal laughs. He lets go of Kon's hands to ruffle his hair, and Kon squawks in protest, ducking his head. "Let's go."

"Last one home's a rotten egg!" Kon crows, and zooms downward.

He can still hear Kal laughing behind him.

[wonillaa]

enha boyfriend thoughts :(

heeseung ♡

- “honey, i’m home”

- started saying it as a joke but now its illegal to come through the door without saying it

- shared playlists

- cute dates :( dog/cat cafes, karaoke

- voice messages + random selfies

- prefers to just stay in and lay with you

- unspoken love for each other

- actions > words

- still makes sure to send good morning and goodnight texts tho 🫡

jay ♡

- he’s so endearing LMAO

- the care you’d get when you’re sick ..

- you’re eating so good w/ him

- i think matching small things like jewelry or jackets

- surprise gifts ☹️

- sprays his cologne on your stuffed animals for you to feel closer when you aren’t together

- always making sure you’re comfortable

- layers you until you’re waddling like a penguin in the winter . he does not care

- involving you in everything he’s interested in + always info dumping on things

- uses you as a model for outfits

jake ♡

- bf jake makes me so sad

- pictures of you in his wallet

- has playlists of songs that remind him of you

- so many dates

- hikes maybe ? idk i think he’d like being in nature with you

- gym partners

- he says you’re his motivation so he needs you there lmao

- has a separate album in his camera roll of pictures of you and him

sunghoon ♡

- his love language is being annoying /j

- he reminds me of winter </3

- zips your coat up and puts your hat + gloves on

- throws snow, leaves or even grass at you no matter the season + if you bake together flour will end up all over you

- baby talks to you bc he knows you hate it

- you frequent a coffee shop together and get a drink every morning 🙁

- sends you gym mirror pics .. ha ha 🤗

- he’d be so sweet tho everything he does is out of love 😞

sunoo ♡

- your relationship is built on impulsive acts

- you walk either every morning or night like an old married couple

- everything is so perfect with him (◞‸◟)

- he’s so loving and praises you for just breathing

- you take turns giving each other massages and playing with each others hair

- so much affection :(

- he just wants to experience everything with you and see the world together

- cheek kisses

- my biggest wish is sunoo getting the most love in this world im devastated

jungwon ♡

- jungwon 😭😭😭😭<3

- has a note in his phone dedicated to all your favorite things, allergies, etc

- reads you so well he’s like a part of you

- if your mom/parent has a facebook he’d def follow it

- he’s a fan of all love languages

- clingy jungwon .. 💔

- steals your stuff and always in your personal space

- he’s so cute

- makes sure you stay on top of taking care of yourself , if you’re too tired to brush your teeth or wash your face he’s doing it for you

niki ♡

- he’s so childish and maybe a little evil

- i think he’d really feel bad if he took things too far 😭

- he lives to tease you he’s like a mini sunghoon but worse

- makes fake photocards of you and shows you his collection

- refuses pet names

- the most you’re getting is ‘my love’ everything else he uses is to bribe you for something or to mess with you

- please take him bowling . the amount of times he’s asked for someone to go with him is truly getting sad

- just dance competitions

- he likes everything if you’re involved

- he whispers his favorite things about you + how much he loves you while you’re asleep ☹️ he’s shy

[auorafics]

Perv!SKZ- Part 1 (M)

Warning: Contains mature content. Readers discretion is advised. This is pure fiction and is in no way related to the actual idols. This is just a point of view

Pairings: OT8 x female!reader, perv!skz, perverted thoughts

Note: This is the beginning of 2 new series: The "Most To Least" series and the "Perv!skz" series. Requests are open

Word Count: 1K

MTL: Perverts among Stray Kids

Jisung

Felix

Hyunjin

Chan

I.N

Lee Know

Changbin

Seungmin

You can’t tell me Jisung isn’t the biggest perv out of the boys. The second he laid his eyes on you, your curvy figure in a short sundress, your floral perfume, your wavy hair was all he could think of. But that's what he’s complimented you on. What he didn’t tell you about was his gaze on your jiggly boobs, the small peeks at your pastel blue panties whenever you moved to cross your legs, and the tiny bulges at the top of your chest, when your nips hardened due to the cold. It didn’t mean much at the beginning, but as you grew closer and closer to him, his habits grew too. They grew to the point where he couldn’t spend a single day without wafting in your smell. He felt that his day was incomplete if he didn’t “accidently” brush over you from behind, or if he didn’t see your boobs bounce as you ran to him, excited to show him something. 

Whenever he is over at your place, he loves to sneak into your room to smell your freshly washed hair on your towel. He sometimes peeks into your bathroom to take a good look at it, so he could imagine seeing you in there when he gets off. Definitely steals a panty from your discarded clothes to sniff at as soon as he gets to his room. He has imagined you in all positions, both under and on him. And as much as he loves being with you, he can't wait to get back home and imagine them once again.

Felix would be the softest perv of them all. He would not be subtle with it though. You are giving him a hug, would hug you harder so he could feel your boobs squish onto his chest. If you are sitting beside him, he will pull you towards him by your waist and rest his head on your shoulder. Some of his actions might seem innocent, but his motive behind them is definitely not. For instance, when you are baking with him, he will purposefully dump flour on you so he can wash it off your chest later. When you give him a head massage, he turns around and places his head right on your breasts and pretends to fall asleep. But all he can think of is pulling your shirt down and sucking on your boobs, leaving red and purple marks all over. 

Felix has a thing for your neck. Whenever he sees your bare neck, he feels his cock get hard. His life’s goal right now is to make you sit on his lap and kiss your neck. He would love to see your neck covered with hickeys, like accessories. The dominant side of him would love to have a chokehold on your neck as he pounds into you

Hyunjin, though ranked at the top, would be very subtle with his actions. Maybe because he acts like that too often, it became a routine for you. Hyunjin, as the remarkable artist he is, asked you to be his “inspiration”, aka, model for him. So every weekend, you modeled for him at his art studio. At first, it was innocent. He made you hold onto a basket of flowers, made you sit on a stool for a portrait, etc. But one day, he told you he wanted to paint you as a ballerina. He even went as far as to buy a ballet dress for you. You thought it looked cute on you, until you lost balance while posing and fell face first, revealing your ass to him, as your tutu rolled up. Since that day, Hyunjin has made you wear different types of clothes, including one of a maid. Maybe it was a coincidence that most of the outfits he made you wear either had a deep neckline or a short length. Or maybe not. Whatever it was, you enjoyed modeling for him, so you continued

When you fell down with your ass in the air, all exposed to him, Hyunjin wanted more and more. So he kept buying short and revealing clothes for you. If by using modeling as an excuse he could see you in all the clothes he'd wanted, why would he say no. Even if you figured that out, he was confident that you would never find out how he peeks in when you were changing, stealing glances at your bare ass, the curve of your waist and the outline of your tits. 

Chan is the pervy but respectful guy. He had never, even in his wildest dreams, had thought that he would act like this. Especially towards his sister’s best friend. Whenever you used to come over, he would make up excuses of having to work downstairs or in his sister’s room, or wherever you were, only to stay closer to you. Typical big brother behavior. Well, that's what he had thought at first too. But as time passed, his perverted thoughts on you started to get out of hand. If you wear a skirt or dress around him, he will definitely take a few pics of your boobs and some underskirt pics. He tries to control himself till the breaking point but whenever you wear something a little too low from the top, especially when you pair it with his favorite perfume of yours, he loses it. He becomes a lot clingier, always trying to hold you and scoot closer to you to get one whiff of you. 

Once, when you were staying the night over at his place, he happened to see your perky nips through your flimsy tank top. Later in the evening, you bent down to pick up the remote, your ass was right towards Chan’s face. And your shorts did nothing to cover up your ass. That night, Chan thanked the universe that you and his sister fell asleep downstairs. He now had the entire upstairs to himself and he could be as loud as he wanted as he fucked his fist, imagining that it was your cunt.

[vctrvn-ls]

Dancing around the kitchen with Sharky? Like him twirling reader and so?

Circles , Post Malone | Sharky |

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

warnings: language

wordcount: 1.8k

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

"Sharky!" You laugh as a big cloud of flour rises from the bowl in your hands.

"Whoops." He grins, shrugging with the flour packet.

"We're never going to finish this if you keep messing." You whine, annoyed as Sharky's playful mood that had been with him since the morning.

The two of you were enjoying a nice summer evening…inside...making pizza. Why? Because you were not in the resource to go out and Sharky said he was tired of takeout.

So the two of you came to an arrangement, you get to stay at home and Sharky doesn't need to order any food.

Cooking with Sharky was entertaining, mostly because he never knew what he was doing and you'd always be busy keeping an eye on him, making sure he didn't mess anything up.

In the background of your chaos Sharky's "Chill music" playlist was on, with the song 'Stolen Dance' currently playing, but barely anything was heard because of your screaming "SHARKY YOU IDIOT!"

"Hahahahaha!"

"Oh my god." You put the bowl down and turned to him, in disbelief of what he had just done "Give me that." You snatched the flour from his hand and put it back into the cupboard.

"You know we're gonna still need that?" He tried to suppress his crazy laughter.

You groan, rolling your eyes and taking the flour back out.

Well maybe you didn't have to, cause you were covered in it. Instead of "carefully sifting" as the instructions said, Sharky carelessly dumped it inside the bowl AGAIN, making you completely lose it.

"Sharky," you whine.

"Ok, ok, sorry I'll stop now."

You furrow your eyebrows at him.

"Hand on heart." He put his flour-covered hand on his chest.

"Oh my god." You groan "You're never allowed next to the flour."

"My bad." He innocently shows his teeth.

"Alrighty," you check the recipe on your phone "Flatten the dough...roll it..."

Sharky leaned over you, positioning his arms on the counter and trapping your between them, looking at what you were reading.

"Oil the tray...or parchment paper." He heard you mumble in concentration, which he thought was very cute. You were very cute. He smiled at his own thoughts, resting his head on your shoulder while you continued fussing over the recipe.

"Alright so we gotta-Sharky," you say sternly but with a smile "Cmon let's finish this."

"But you're so comfy." He playfully complains, wrapping his arms around you from behind, chin not leaving your shoulder.

"Oh my god Sharky." You watch as his dusty hands wrap around your waist, getting more flour everywhere.

You shake your head as you feel him begin to sway side to side.

"Sharkyyy," you nudge him in the ribs, and it works! He lets you go with an over exaggerated "Ow!" While you hurry to the dough.

"Tsk," he shakes his head "You're no fun."

"Yeah cause I'm starving you genius and you're not helping."

"I-Ah-Okay yeah fair enough." He nods.

You chuckle at his stuttering.

"Ok I'll stop if you're actually hungry."

"Oh how considerate of you." You say sarcastically.

"Yeah otherwise you'll end up eating me." He adds, making you break out into a series of giggles which contagiously passed onto him as he watched you laugh with heart eyes.

Ten minutes later the pizza was in the oven and the two of your were on the couch, lazily laying around doing nothing and waiting for the 'ding'.

"I'm so booored," Sharky stated, looking up at you from your lap.

"I'm tired."

"From what? You literally didn't do anything all day!" He exclaims.

"Of you."

"What?" He furrowed his eyebrows, not knowing if he should actually be hurt by that or not.

"I'm kidding." You look down at him with a grin.

"Not funny."

You shake your head before leaning down and planting a kiss on his lips.

"Where'd that come from?" He chuckled in surprise "…Do it again."

"No." You grin, straightening your back and leaning on the couch, leaving Sharky with nothing.

He was just about to voice his disappointment when he suddenly heard a faint but familiar melody.

"Oh my gosh!" He declares, jolting up, catching you off guard.

"What?"

"I haven't heard this song in so long! This must be my old playlist." He rushed over to the kitchen, turning up the volume on the speaker.

You peeped at him from the couch with a raised eyebrow as you heard Circles by Post Malone begin blasting through the house.

"COME DANCE WITH ME!" You barely heard Sharky yell over the music.

You shake your head, not feeling it.

He demonstratively rolls his eyes and droops his shoulder, before jogging over to you.

You watch him stand in front of you, moving his shoulders and singing "I couldn't be theeere!" He clenches his fists and slightly bends his knees while screwing his eyes shut "Even when I trieeed!"

You can't help but laugh at him.

"You don't believe iiiit!" He opens his eyes and glares right at you "We do this every time!" He swiftly jumps up and manages to grab ahold of your hand in the process, pulling you after him right where you didn't want to be minutes ago.

"Seasons change and our love went coooold!" He intertwines his fingers with yours, and sways his arms around as you watch, just to get you in the mood.

"Run away but we're running in circles!" He leans forward, face inches away from yours. You thought he was going to kiss you, but instead felt one of his hands let go and the other bring your arm over your head drawing a circle motion in the air, forcing you to spin.

You can't help but chuckle at Sharky's cheeky move as he continues to scream the lyrics of the song "Run away but we're running in circles, run away, run away- Cmon!"

The spin seemed to have somehow done a trick on you because the next thing you knew you were singing along to Posty's next verse. Maybe your expression wasn't the most pleasant (at first) as you pretended to have been "forced" by him, but with each word you kind of started to enjoy it.

Well to be frank, it was really hard not to enjoy it because of how excitedly Sharky was bouncing around you.

Even though the verse was calm, he still managed to jump up and down with every beat before joining in with you "You thought that is was spe-cial, spe-cial!"

"But it was just the sex though-"

"Sex though!" Sharky accompanimented you on the harmony.

"And I still hear the echoes-"

"The echoes!"

"I got a feeling that's it's time to let it go...Let it gooo," you felt a small surge of energy rush through you as the catchy beat drop swooped in.

"Seasons change and our love went cooold!" You both sang in unison.

A massive smile shone on Sharky's face as he watched you jump up and down in the most adorable way possible. And his heart completely melted when he felt both of your hands on his, encouraging to join in with the jumping, which obviously he did.

"Feed the flame cause we can't let it goooo!"

You both stopped in time for the "Run away but we're running in circles," As Sharky lifted his hand up and watched you twirl again "Run away, run away!"

As the melody continued on, the two of you had a mini unspoken dance battle, which you initiated with "worm arms". Sharky caught onto it with a Micheal Jackson spin and hand on his head making you crack up right on the spot.

"That was actually really good!" You point at his legs and laugh, earning an "I know" nod from Sharky. The mini dance battle came to a holt as you and Sharky prepared to sing the next emotionally-filled verse on high notes.

"Maybe you don't understand what I'm going throoouuughhhh, it's only me!" You point to yourself, trying to do movements that fit the lyrics "Whatchu got to loooose? Make up your mind, tell me what are you going throoouuugh?" You point to Sharky "It's only me- Let it goooooo!"

And as the chorus replayed you went back to the jumping, holding each others hands and yelling the lyrics. Of course you both knew it was silly, maybe even cheesy or childish but the energy that Posty's music had was unstoppable and you both were having the time of your lives.

Sharky had hearts in his eyes, knowing that you were enjoying yourself and enjoying his company, he could feel that exact warm fuzzy feeling inside him that is sometimes described as "butterflies" but to him it was more than that, something bigger.

"-Run away but we're running in circles," this time you raised Sharky's hand up, indicating for him to spin, and as he did you had to jump up to make sure he'd fit under your arm.

You laughed at the way he had to bend down while twirling, just barely making it through.

As the song came to an end the pair of you were out of breathe and laughing while still holding onto each others hands.

You continued to giggle as Sharky reached for the speaker, turning it off.

"Do you think we missed the pizza?" He panted.

You shrug, shaking your head and looking at the oven "Oh no wait we did." You walked over and opened the small glass door, steam rising as you did so.

"Yep. It's done." You fully open the oven, waiting for the tray to cool down a little.

"That was fun wasnt it?" Sharky leaned on the counter and tilted his head with a smile on his face.

"Yeah...it was...a little." You add slyly, squinting at him.

"A little?" Sharky exclaimed with a chuckle "You should've seen yourself a minute ago."

"Yeah, yeah, okay." You shrug.

"We should make pizza more often." He walked over and leaned onto you, wrapping his hands around your waist from behind while you continued to stare at the pizza.

"Hm?" He nuzzled into your cheek to try and get a response from you.

"Yeah ok don't over do it," you smirk, turning your head to him and placing a chaste kiss on his lips "Let me eat before you start pissing me off again."

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

[fizzigigsimmer]

Back At One Part 2

Pairing: Caligator, Billy Hargrove x Gator Tillman

Fandom Fusion: Stranger Things & Fargo S5

Dom/Sub au

*Title taken from this truly sappy love song by Brian McKnight that these boys would NEVER admit was kinda okay lol.

<<<<PART I

“When is that fella of yours gonna make an honest man out of you?" Dot asks, just as Gator reaches for the pans stacked on top of the fridge, and he jerks, pulling too quickly, sending a cookie sheet clattering toward the kitchen floor - he just manages to save it. Scotty raises the cover of her book to hide her face, but his ears work just fine and he hears her snicker.

"What do you mean?" he gripes as he fumbles with the cookware. This is what he gets for trying to do something nice for his boyfriend on his birthday. "Billy's already registered as my dominant."

Which means if Gator really does burn the house down trying to make this fucking cake, Billy can have the honor of identifying his barbecued remains and save Dot the trouble.

Dot’s giving him this look though. Like she can see right through his bullshit. Let's get real. She always could read him like a book and play him like a fiddle.

“Alright, lets bake this mother fu-uuning,cake” Gator self corrects, remembering Scotty at the last minute. Shit that was close. Dot only has a few rules for when they’re together: no talking about the past when Scotty’s in earshot and no potty mouth. She literally calls it that. It’s kind of annoying though, cause the kid is like twelve right? Gator could curse in three different languages by the time he was twelve. But apparently that’s not the thing to be proud of that he thought it was when he was twelve.

“Real nice save Hon.” Dot laughs at him.

“Yeah yeah. Let’s just do this.” Gator grumbles in reply, and they do. 

Dot ties an apron around Gator's waist and hands him a mixing bowl while Scotty eagerly climbs up on a stool to read out the recipe as they work. She’s only meant to be walking him through the basics of a simple white cake with Billy’s name spelled out on it, but somehow the kitchen quickly descends into chaos. 

"Okay, first we need to cream the butter and sugar together until light and fluffy," Scotty reads.

Gator dumps an entire stick of butter and a heaping cup of sugar into the bowl. He picks up the electric mixer and jams it in after, cause that much he can figure out for himself. Only it sends a plume of sugar into the air the minute he powers it on. 

“Holy shit!”

"No, silly!" Scotty giggles. "You have to soften the butter first or it won't mix right."

Grumbling, Gator fishes the hard butter out of the bowl and tosses it into the microwave. A few seconds later, there's a loud pop - because he’s a fucking idiot and apparently it doesn’t take more than a few seconds to warm butter. One glance inside confirms the worst: the stick is now a molten mess, and butter drips down the microwave door.

"Oh honey," Dot sighs, grabbing a towel to wipe up the mess. "Just grab another stick and leave it on the counter for a bit to soften."

“Jesus. Come on. Get your head in the game!” Gator admonishes himself, trying to shake off his embarrassment and the feeling of shame welling up inside of him from fucking up something so simple. “I have cooked before. I’m just -”

What? Nervous? Fucking stupid? What else is there to say when he can’t even melt butter.

Dot lays a hand on his back. She doesn’t need to say anything, and she doesn’t as she hands him a clean bowl and Scotty reads out from Dot’s phone that it’s time to sift the dry ingredients together. He upends the bag of flour over the sifter, and thinks it might be too much. It definitely is, because he doesn’t get more than a few taps in before flour has started to overflow everywhere, dusting his hands and the arms of his black t-shirt. But hey, some of it is getting into the bowl.

Somehow with Dot's patient guidance and Scotty's enthusiastic "assistance", they manage to get the cake batter mixed and poured into pans. Gator slides them into the oven, sets the timer, and leans back against the counter with a sigh, his shirt and jeans thoroughly dusted with flour, bits of batter streaked in between.

Dot chuckles as she hands him a damp towel. "Well, that was an adventure. I think Billy will appreciate the effort you put in, even if it's not perfect."

Gator wipes his hands and grumbles. "It better turn out decent after all that. I still think I shoulda gotten him something else though. Something big, to really wow him, y'know?"

Dot studies him for a long moment, and then finally broaches the subject that has been festering like a smelly turd in the corner of the room.

"Want to talk about what happened at the store today?"

No. No he really fucking doesn’t. Gator turns to snap on the faucet, thinking that he’d like to stick his head under it and drown himself right about now. He focuses intently on scrubbing the batter caked on his nails instead.

"Nothin' happened. She was a stuck-up bitch is all. Lookin' down on me like I'm nothin' just 'cause I ain't some fancy dom in a suit."

He hears Dot murmur something quietly to Scotty about going to get her things together, and grunts in acknowledgment when the twerp says a shy goodbye before slipping from the room. He immediately feels like shit, because Dot can’t really punish him anymore - it’s not her place, and she’s got too much respect for Billy to overstep - but she can take away the one thing she knows he really wants. He wasn’t ready for them to leave, but he can’t blame Dot for not wanting her kid around him when he’s like this.

Her family is not something that Dot plays around with, and Gator might be someone she cares about, but there’s a stark line between whatever the hell they are to each other and the beautiful thing Nadine - fuck - Dot, built for herself with her own grit and guts in the aftermath of the Tillmans.

He understands. He gets it. He does. And yet he still flinches when she speaks again, body somehow unprepared for her to still be there even though he would have heard her leave if she wasn’t.

"She shouldn't have treated you that way," Dot says softly. "But Gator, how you reacted wasn’t like you. I haven’t seen you do something that rash in a long time. What’s this really about?”

Gator's jaw clenches and his hands still, suds dripping from his fingers into the sink. The air grows heavy with all the things unsaid between them.

"It’s nothin'. Alright?" he mutters unconvincingly. "I lost my cool is all. Won't happen again."

Dot sighs and leans her hip against the counter next to him, arms crossed. Her eyes are filled with gentle understanding and he hates it. Hates how much it reminds him of his mom, and all the times after, when she was gone and it was Dot standing in her place, filling the void as best she could. Hates most of all that he’s never been strong enough to resist the comfort Dot offers and the temptation to fall apart in her arms. She was his safety, even when safety was a lie and she was just a kid who couldn’t do shit to keep herself safe, let alone him.

But no matter how hard Gator had tried, he’d never stopped needing someone to lean on and take him apart and clean out his rust and dust, to put back together again good as new. That’s his curse, the sub in him, which is hard to swallow most days but Billy makes it better. No one does any of that for him like Billy Hargrove does. Even when Gator makes it hard on him, Billy always knows just which way he’s bent and how to fix it. Yeah it bugs the shit out of him, but he wouldn’t know what the hell to do with himself now without it. If Billy left he’d -

Stop that shit! He flinches away from the thoughts, and reminds himself for the umpteenth time that Billy isn’t going to leave him over some dumb shit like a lame birthday gift. He needs to just quit already. Why can’t he make the thoughts stop?

"You've been doing so well lately, Gator. Really making progress in therapy, communicating better when you’re dropping... What happened today?" Dot presses again.

Gator's throat works as he swallows hard. His hands clench the edge of the sink, knuckles going white. He doesn’t want to talk about this but maybe it will help. God he hopes it helps.

"I just... I wanted to get him somethin' special, y'know? Somethin' to show him how much he means to me." His voice cracks slightly on the last word and Dot's face softens. She reaches for him, laying a hand on his shoulder. 

"Oh honey... Billy knows how much you love him. You don't need fancy gifts to prove that."

"Don't I though?" Gator argues, a bitter edge creeping into his tone. "He does so much for me, Dot. Takes such good care of me, even when I'm a pain in the ass. And, like when am I not a pain in the ass, huh? You were gonna kick his ass and like send him to the Gulag. How am I worth that?”

Dot laughs, giving Gator's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Listen to me. You are a pain in the ass, but only when you’re trying so hard not to be the sweet, kind, and wonderful man I know you are. You're a good boy, Gator. You always have been. And yes, at first I was worried when I found out your Saftey-Dom had a thing for you. Who wouldn’t be?”

Gator shrugs away her very good point - doms who are employed to counsel and provide subs with therapeutic care are bound by a strict code of ethics. Billy could have been in deep shit if anyone other than Dot had found out about their relationship before Billy stopped being his therapy dom.

“I kissed him Dot, and he never let it happen again while I was still just a case.” Gator laments. “That’s what I’m talking about though, all I could do was think with my dick - meanwhile I could have seriously fucked up his life. And he still took care of me!”

“He did. Which is what convinced me he’s the best thing for you.” Dot says. “It’s because he loves you for who you are, flaws and all."

Gator shakes his head, jaw tight. "You don't get it, Dot. I'm not...I'm not good like you keep saying. The shit that goes through my head sometimes…”

He trails off, shame burning hot in his gut. He can't even bring himself to say it out loud. But with Dot he doesn’t need to. 

She was there through the worst of it. She’s seen the worst of him. Shit Billy knows about, but hasn’t seen. Hasn’t really lived it, the way Dot had to live it, and maybe that’s why Gator’s been fucking everything up. 

Maybe he’s trying to see once and for all whether or not someone who isn’t trauma bonded to him will stay once they see him for what he really is.

"I know I'm fucked up, alright? I know I got a long way to go before I'm anything close to the kinda sub Billy deserves.” He tries to shrug off the admission like the words aren’t sending pain twisting inside him like a knife.

But Dot, perceptive as always, cups Gator's face, turning him back to meet her gentle gaze. "Oh honey... Is that what this is about? You want Billy to collar you?"

Gator's breath hitches. Hearing it stated so plainly sends a jolt through him, equal parts longing and terror. He jerks away from Dot's touch, arms wrapping defensively around himself.

"No! I mean... Fuck, I don't know," he stammers, the words tangling on his tongue.

Dot is quiet for a long moment, letting his confession settle heavily between them. When she speaks again, her tone is thoughtful.

"Have you talked to Billy about this? About wanting his collar?"

Gator barks out a harsh laugh. "No. No fuckin' way. He'd probably laugh in my face if I did.”

Dot's brow furrows, her eyes shadowed with concern as she clicks her tongue in admonishment. "I don’t believe you really think that for a second. That Billy would laugh at you for expressing your needs."

Gator's shoulders hunch, defensive. He keeps his gaze fixed resolutely on the mixing bowl in the sink, watching the dregs of batter slowly dissolve under the running tap. The sweet scent of vanilla and butter hangs heavy in the air, incongruously cheerful.

"I didn't say I needed it," he mutters. "I'm just sayin'... a guy like me askin' for a collar. It's funny right? Like, I’m not some needy bitch who needs a collar to keep from dropping, and I don’t need Billy thinking he gets to boss me around more than he already does. Guy’s an absolute control freak."

"Uh-huh and you love it. I've seen the two of you together. The way Billy is with you... It's special. He'd move heaven and earth to make you happy. To give you what you need." Dot says. Her voice is soft but sure.

Gator swallows thickly, his eyes stinging. He blinks rapidly, determined not to let the tears building behind his lids fall. "Sure. Why hasn’t he done it then? I’d put that shit down in two seconds, but he hasn’t even tried. Y’know?"

And the reason why is obvious. Yeah, there’s the fact that Gator doesn’t need a collar, but even if he wanted one he’s too much work, too damaged.

Dot sighs heavily, like he said the last part out loud.

"Honestly Honey, I think you should think about it from his perspective. With the way you talk about it... He may not realize how much this would mean to you. Billy does a good job, making sense of what’s going on in that squirrel head of yours but he’s not superman. Talk to him.”

Gator grunts noncommittally. Because hell no. He will not be begging his dom to collar him any time soon thanks, but he doesn’t want her to worry either. 

Dot says she has to get Scotty home in time to start dinner and he follows her out to the front door where Scotty is waiting with Dot's purse and her school bag. He sees them off with a wave and a promise to attend some talent show at Scotty’s school next week. Dot gives him a kiss on the cheek, urges him to talk to Billy one more time and reminds him that her mother-in-law knows the president, and really can get Billy thrown in the gulag if he really does laugh in Gator’s face.

And then he’s alone. Alone with his thoughts. Which is frankly the best way to be. Gator can think much more clearly about this now that Dot’s not here, reminding him of the past and making him feel weaker than he actually is. He can totally still salvage this situation. He’ll just make the cake really impressive. Like those 3D ones that look like real shit? Billy loves to chill with him on the weekend and watch that show where people try and guess which random item is cake or not. Gator’s usually tied up, plugged or gagged when that happens so his memories are a little hazy - but it doesn’t look that hard. It’s just cake right?

When the timer goes off Gator brings the cake out of the oven.

He whips out his phone and starts scrolling through cake decorating videos on YouTube, determined to find something suitably impressive. His eyes light up when he spots a tutorial for a realistic 3D surfboard cake, uploaded by some fruit calling himself Barry Bakes. He doesn’t really want to take advice from some dude with pink hair, a full face of makeup, wearing a sparkly crop top with the word TWINK encrusted on the front, but the cake is undeniably badass.

"Alright, let's do this," Gator mutters, cracking his knuckles. He fast forwards through the beginning of the video, impatient to get to the good stuff.

First step - carving the cakes into a surfboard shape. Easy enough. Gator grabs a serrated knife and starts hacking away at the layers, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth in concentration. Crumbs fly everywhere as he saws off uneven chunks. When he's done, he steps back to survey his work. It...sort of looks like a surfboard. If you squint. And tilt your head to the side.

Next up - the "ocean" frosting. Gator mixes a batch of blue buttercream, dumping in what is probably way too much food coloring, but whatever at least he softened the butter without blowing up the microwave this time.

Gator continues to follow along with Barry Bakes' tutorial, growing increasingly frustrated as each step seems to go awry. The blue buttercream frosting he mixed up is a garish turquoise color from the excessive food dye. It's also too thin and runny, dripping off the cake in gloopy rivulets.

He blames Barry, that fucking fruit, because if he weren’t so hell bent on turning everything into some kinda innuendo maybe Gator could actually concentrate on what he is doing!

"Shit shit shit," Gator grumbles under his breath, frantically trying to smooth the messy frosting over the lopsided surfboard shape he carved. It's a losing battle. The cake looks like a melted smurf.

Next, Barry cheerfully pipes delicate white frosting swirls and curls to create realistic seafoam on his perfectly smooth blue surfboard. Reminding the audience that big tips are better for piping, and everybody loves a good pipe.

Gator glares at the screen. His own piping bag is loaded with frosting that's somehow both too stiff and too drippy at the same time. When he tries to pipe, it comes out in sad, deflated spurts. He can only imagine what Barry would have to say about that.

"Motherf-!" Gator bites off the curse, chucking the piping bag down on the counter. This was a stupid idea. He's no baker, who was he kidding? He should've just bought Billy a damn gift card like a normal person.

Dejected, Gator slumps against the counter, hanging his head. Failure churns in his gut, sharp and nauseating. He can't give this monstrosity to Billy. He just can’t. Can’t bear to watch him try to hide his disappointment.

Frustrated and embarrassed, Gator gives up on trying to salvage the cake. In a fit of pique, he grabs a spatula and starts roughly shaping the blue frosted mess, not even bothering to smooth it out anymore. He carves angry slashes and gouges into the cake's surface with the edge of the spatula.

Before he even fully realizes what he's doing, the cake has taken on a new, crude shape under his hands - a lumpy, misshapen hand with the middle finger extended in an unmistakable gesture of "fuck you".

Gator steps back, breathing hard, and stares at his handiwork. The hand is far from anatomically correct, with uneven sausage-like fingers and a palm that curves at an odd angle. Globs of sticky frosting cling to the digits in gloopy turquoise clumps. The raised middle finger lists slightly to the side, like it's too heavy to hold itself up properly.

It's possibly the ugliest cake Gator has ever seen. So ugly it crosses the line twice and becomes perversely impressive in its sheer awfulness. A surprised, slightly unhinged laugh bubbles up from his chest as he takes it in.

This is what he has to show for his efforts. This fuck-ugly, lewd gesture of a cake, cobbled together from the dregs of his failure. It suits him.

“Yeah don’t know what the fuck else I expected.” Gator grumbles, despondent. He goes to the fridge to fetch a beer and tabs it open roughly, determined to drink thoughts of the stupid cake away. 

He’s not crying over cake like some lame ass. It’s whatever. It’ll probably still taste good, and if Billy doesn’t like it he can throw it in the trash. They’ll order a pizza or something and Gator will ride him till his dick goes numb and call it a night. Happy birthday.

Gator stomps to the bedroom he and Billy share and pulls out the trunk where he keeps his hunting gear from under the bed, because it’s been awhile since he polished his knives and that always helps lift his mood. He takes the trunk out to the living room and gets to work. Ques up his workout playlist on his phone and connects it to the TV so he can put it on blast.

It helps a little. Allows him time not to think. But the time gets away from him, because he doesn’t even hear the sound of the front door opening and closing. 

Billy's entrance is marked by the faint scrape of his boots against the hardwood floor as he turns the corner into the living room. He pauses briefly, taking in the scene before him—Gator, surrounded by an array of gleaming knives, his trunk spilling open on the coffee table, and the ear splitting rifts of heavy metal blaring from the television speakers.

A faint smile tugs at Billy's lips as the dom sets down his bag and sheds his leather jacket, revealing the broad contours of his chest hugged by a tight white T-shirt. The room is thick with the scent of metal and leather, a comforting familiarity that wraps around Billy like a second skin. He approaches Gator slowly, noiselessly, his gaze fixed not on the array of blades but on the man holding them as gently as baby chicks.

Billy casts a long shadow across the coach and Gator finally notices him. He jumps up, fumbling the knife in his hands which clatters to the floor. The music crescendos, a dramatic backdrop to the moment. Gator lowers the volume, and whips around to glare at Billy who laughs at the fright he gave him.

“Hey, Baby Gay.”

“Don’t call me that!” Gator snaps. “And don’t sneak up on me. I was like, this close to killing you!”

“Oh?” Billy arches a mocking brow. “Probably shouldn’t have dropped the knife then.”

“Haha. Very funny asshole. You’re lucky I did,” Gator grumbles in reply, bending down to pick up the fallen knife. “You know how sharp one of these babies are? With one o’ these I can cut through the shell on a coconut just like that.”

He flicks his wrist to demonstrate the ease with which he could peel Billy’s flesh off, and Billy gives him this look - like Gator is just fucking adorable - and it’s god damn condescending, is what it is. But it also makes the back of Gator’s neck tingle with awareness, and his dick try to get hard. So yeah.

It’s probably a good thing that Billy’s so distracted anyway. Because swearing at his dom is firmly against their rules on account of the fact that Gator uses it as some kinda defense mechanism to keep Billy at arms length.

Or that’s what Billy said anyway when he made the stupid rule. Gator doesn’t make the rules here, he just follows them.

“I’ll count myself lucky then. I think I’ll get a beer. You want one killer?” Billy asks, already on his way to the kitchen. 

FUCK! The Kitchen. Gator remembers too late that he forgot to clean up and do something with that awful cake and scampers after him.

Billy strides into the kitchen before Gator can stop him.

His stomach knots as Billy pauses, his gaze landing on the misshapen dessert surrounded by strewn icing bags, crumbs and powdered sugar. Slowly a grin spreads across Billy's face, and blue eyes sparkle as he turns to look at Gator, where he lingers hesitantly in the kitchen doorway.

"Is this cake trying to tell me something?" he teases, amusement rich in his voice. He leans forward slightly to inspect the cake more closely. "Is this your way of telling me you don’t want to sixty-nine later, or is it a failed science experiment? Hard to tell."

Gator feels heat rush to his face, embarrassment mixed with irritation bubbling in his chest. He knows Billy is just poking fun, yet it stings, tapping into that deep-seated insecurity instilled by years under his father's critical eye.

"Scotty was here with Dot and it gave us something to do. That’s all," Gator mumbles defensively, his words sharper than intended. Then, unable to stop the words from tumbling out recklessly, he adds, "Just thought it would be nice to share, but you don’t have to have any if you’re just going to be an asshole."

As soon as the words are out, Gator regrets them. Swearing at Billy is one thing, but lying to him breaks one of their most cardinal rules. It’s not just about respect; it’s about trust.

Billy’s expression shifts subtly; the playful light in his eyes dims as he adopts a more serious demeanor. He closes the distance between them with measured steps. "Gator," he says softly yet firmly, "That’s the second time you’ve pulled that tonight. Watch it.”

Gator snaps his mouth shut and fumes silently, hanging his head. God, Billy sounds so disappointed in him and it’s worse than he even imagined.He wants to puke.

“Did Scotty really make this?” Billy asks, and Gator can tell just from his tone that Billy already knows the answer, but he’s waiting for Gator to fess up to it. Gator shakes his head, hot tears stinging at his eyes that he blinks away as rapidly as he can.

“It’s for you.” He confesses, feeling a weight lift off his chest despite his overall misery. “I made it for your birthday, and you made fun of it.”

“I did.” Billy acknowledges too easily for Gators liking, but before he can say anything Billy goes on. “I could have handled that better. You’re right. But before we get to that, don’t you have anything to say to me?”

“No. Can’t think of anything.” Gator immediately denies, because how is it fair that he has to apologize for a little white lie when he only did it in the first place because he knew Billy was going to laugh. He knew it.

“Oh?” Billy’s face is impassive but he’s unhappy with Gators answer. It crackles in the air between them. “Do you need a reminder of the rules?"

Gator swallows hard, defiance battling with remorse inside him. He shrugs stiffly, avoiding Billy’s gaze. “Let's just forget it. I don’t need a lecture right now.”

“I’ll decide whether you do or not.” Billy’s tone is calm but carries an undeniable edge of authority—one that sends shivers down Gator’s spine and fear bolting through him all at once. “You know, I was looking forward to a nice night with my boy. Didn’t know I was coming home to a brat.”

Gator ignores the voice inside that screams for him to stop stop stop, barreling ahead in desperate angry defiance.

“Fuck you and what you want! Maybe I want a boyfriend who knows how to lighten up huh?  Sorry I’m not your perfect little bitch. Go cry about it to someone else!” 

His insides shake from the fear and lingering tension. Gator has just royally pissed off his dom. It’s in Billy’s eyes and the slow exhale of breath he takes. Punishment is inevitable. Gator longs to take it back but he can’t - can never take it back - and nothing will fix it. Or fix him. He’s all wrong inside and nothing works no matter how hard he tries.

But the thing is, Billy is safe.

Billy is angry and Gator is terrified and trembling but It’s nothing like it was before, in his father’s house. When the fear of a hand went bone deep and lived in his nightmares.

Gator loves Billy’s hands. They way they touch him. The way they hold him fast and glue him back together. They’ve never let him down those hands, which is why Gator is shaking like a leaf right now, terrified that they won’t reach for him.

He didn’t yell those things at Billy because he wants more space. It’s stupid, he knows, but he yelled them because he needs Billy to take over. He can’t stop himself running full speed ahead toward a punishment. Billy will straighten him out. He can trust Billy to know what to do even when he’s lost sense of which way he’s turned.

Gator’s dom considers him for a long moment, the silence stretching taut between them.

“Go in our room and get me a paddle.” Billy finally orders. Then, deliberately turning away, he starts rummaging through the kitchen cupboards - no doubt in his mind apparently that Gator will obey him.

Of course he does. Knees shaking, Gator stumbles out of the kitchen because now that he’s driven them to this point his skin is crawling with the need to make it right. He’s aching with the need to be good so bad his knees feel like jelly and it’s everything he can do just to follow the order. He wants to hit the floor - go to his belly and plead for his dom’s forgiveness but that’s not what Billy asked for.

He will be good. He’ll make Billy forget that mouthy idiot who talked back and clearly had shit for brains. He can be such a good boy. The best boy! Just give him a chance and he’ll come wagging his fucking tail.

It’s pathetic.

But it’s also a relief, when he returns to the kitchen a few minutes later with a paddle from their toy chest and sets it on the table and Billy acknowledges it with an approving nod.

“Good boy.” he says, and Gator’s knees buckle. He catches himself on the table, holds himself up with palms pressed firmly to the wood because Billy hasn’t told him to kneel yet. He forces himself to focus on Billy as the dom takes an empty glass vase inexplicably sitting next to a bag of rice on the table, and places it on the floor between their feet.

Gator watches warily as next, Billy grabs the open bag of rice and tilts it sending a stream of white grains cascading down onto the tile. He stops when the bag is empty and kneels briefly to stir through them gently with his fingers before straightening and meeting Gator’s eyes again.

“Pants off.” he orders, and Gator sucks in a breath. He doesn’t have to ask why, and doesn’t bother, cheeks hot with shame as he reaches for his belt and gets to work.

"On the floor," BIlly commands softly, when Gator is down to his underwear. The dom points to the pile of rice on the floor.

"Kneel."

And Gator folds like fucking cake batter, sweet sweet relief coursing through his veins. He puts himself at Billy’s feet where he belongs, where he wants to be and shudders, biting his lip to stop himself from begging for the dom’s touch. He hasn’t earned that. Doesn’t make him want it less, but he can be good for Billy and prove when he remembers how.

Billy picks up the paddle that Gator chose – sleek and dark, crafted from polished walnut. As Gator settles on his haunches, head lowered in submission.

“You picked the heavy one. My favorite.” Billy remarks. “That why you picked it, or do you just really need to feel it tonight? You can answer.”

“Want to feel it.” Gator licks his lips. “Want you to be happy.”

“Good boy.” Billy says, leaving Gator to wonder which he is pleased with: that Gator wants his ass beat so raw he can’t sit or Gator wanting those things because they please his dom?

“Alright Baby, are you listening? I want you to pick those up and put them in the vase. Count each one,” Billy instructs, motioning toward the scatter of grains. His voice is firm. It brooks no argument.

Gator looks down at the nearly indistinguishable mass of tiny grains and feels a rush of frustration. "All of them?" His voice is a mix of incredulity and unease. What if he can’t do it? What if he can’t be good and Billy is disappointed in him again?

“Every last one Baby boy," Billy confirms with an implacable nod. “Don’t think about it. It’s not your job right now to think. Just do what I ask you to do. Can you do that?”

Gator takes a deep breath, steadies himself on the sound of Billy’s voice and nods. He can do that. He can follow Billy’s instructions. He doesn’t have to worry about ho much rice there is or whether he can even find it all. That’s not his to worry about. Not his place. He just has to listen. 

He reaches out shakily to touch the closest grain, his voice barely audible as he starts, “One… two… three…” His fingers tremble slightly; counting each grain feels like an impossible task. But Billy never sets him up for failure - not the way his dad used to. Billy doesn’t ask him to do things he’s not capable of just to fail. He asks Gator for things he knows he can do, and if he fails anyway it’s because Billy wants to be there when he breaks. He won’t leave Gator laden with shame and misery that will eat away at his insides.

As Gator focuses on the rice, Billy steps behind him. Without warning, he brings the paddle down gently but firmly across Gator's backside. The sound cracks sharply in the air, followed by another count from Gator's lips that judders from the impact.

“Four… five…”

Billy administers each swat in time with Gator’s counting—methodical and paced.

The pain is not harsh but it accumulates with each slap—the stinging warmth spreading across Gator’s skin contrasting starkly with the coolness of the floor beneath his knees and hands. Tears prickle at Gator’s eyes as he continues—his voice breaks around “twenty-nine… thirty…” 

It’s more than just physical pain; it's a release valve for all he’s been holding inside. Every impact sends ripples through him, but it’s not just his body. It does something to his soul too that he can’t explain. Something he no longer wants to deny.

“Let it out,” Billy murmurs close to his ear between paddles—a soothing contrast to the sharp swats.

“Thirty-one… thirty-two…” The numbers start blurring together as sobs hitch in his throat. The task which seemed merely frustrating at first now feels poignant— slowly, bit by bit, Gator cleans up the mess on the floor, and swat by swat Billy cleans up the mess inside. He doesn’t hit Gator after every grain, that would be excessive. He takes breaks at interment periods, spacing them out so that it’s impossible for Gator to try and guess when he might start up again. The fresh sting whenever he does is brutal, worse in some ways than if he had just continued until Gator’s cheeks were numb.

“Two-hundred and ten…” 

Billy pauses, placing his hand gently on Gator's shoulder as he surveys his progress.

"You’re doing well," he encourages softly, and that little praise, that nothing bit of touch, is enough to break him. Gator chokes on a sob, hot tears spilling down his cheeks despite his best efforts to hold them in.

“Keep going.” Billy reminds him and Gator nods emphatically, tears dripping off his chin, because he hadn’t meant to stop. He was doing so well. Billy said so. He’ll never stop. Not until Billy tells him too.

With shaking hands Gator pinches grains of rice between his fingers and continues to count aloud between sobs and hits from the paddle—each number spoken is more than just an acknowledgement of rice grains; but of his submission to Billy. 

Billy’s little murmurs of praise and sounds of pleasure make him feel high. Like his head is floating in the clouds.

He loves subspace. Wishes it were easier for him to reach and he didn’t have to be taken down so hard. But finally he feels the familiar edges of it and the tears fall faster as he lets himself go.

Gator sinks into the feeling of weightlessness as it rises up to take him. Billy maintains a rhythm that is both firm and considerate, attuned to Gator's responses—his body language, his breathing, his blown out pupils and slurred speech. 

This is no longer about punishment. It’s a guided breakdown.

As Gator’s cries begin to subside into quiet murmurs and his ability to speak leaves him, Billy lessens the intensity of his strikes until he stops altogether. 

“That’s enough. You were beautiful Baby.” Billy halts Gator’s hands woozly still trying to lift rice and the sub sags against him. “You’re always so good for me baby boy.”

He brushes his fingertips along Gator's heated skin, tracing the raised welts along his buttocks and thighs softly, and making him shiver. Gator’s mouth stretches in a dopey lopsided smile, beaming from inside and out. He soars. Works his mouth to ask Billy to do it again - he can take more - but can’t get past the mushmouth.

The room is heavy with the scent of sweat and leather, the only sound now the quiet thud of Billy’s heart and Gator’s shaky breaths.

Hands roam over Gator’s back and legs, soft, soothing caresses that glide over his flushed skin. Billy leans close, his breath warm against the nape of Gator’s neck, whispering reassurances that float through his head like feathers.

The shift is gentle, a tender transition as Gator's breathing evens out and his trembling subsides. Billy’s hands are confident, knowing exactly where to touch to bring Gator back from the intense high of subspace. With each calculated stroke on his back and whisper against his ear, Gator feels the ground slowly come back under him, the weightlessness dissipating as reality takes hold once more.

Billy finally eases back, giving space for Gator to gather himself in the afterglow of their session. He cups Gator’s face tenderly, wiping away the trails left by tears with his thumbs. 

“Talk to me, Gator. What’s been eating at you?”

The use of his real name pulls Gator further out of his dazed state. He blinks slowly, focusing on Billy’s concerned face, grounding himself. “I... I’m scared,” he admits, voice still hoarse.

“Scared of what?” Billy probes gently, petting the long side of Gator’s hair now.

“I’m scared I’m not enough for you,” he confesses, dropping his gaze to where their fingers are entwined. He knows the words will hurt Billy. Make his dominant frown in the middle of his brow and start thinking of all the ways Neil Hargrove used to tell him he was a waste of space - too broken and wrong to ever take proper care of a sub. Nothing could be further from the truth. But if there’s one thing Gator knows it’s daddy issues and how they can haunt you.

But to his surprise Billy’s expression doesn’t change. He just nods quietly, still petting Gator’s hair. “Why would you think that?”

Gator hesitates, lips parting but no sound coming out. He swallows hard and shrugs.

“Listen to me Baby.” Billy says after a moment, fisting Gator’s hair between his fingers and tugging until he brings his eyes up. “You’re what I want. You. Even when you’re being a greasy dirtbag leaving your shit everywhere and blaring your candyass music.”

“Hey, lay off my Skyfire man.” Gator can’t help but smile, because Billy’s lips have curved up in amusement and they’ve had this argument a dozen times or more and it just makes him feel so good, that Billy pays attention to which albums he gravitates to depending on his moods. “They aren’t candy. Fractal is the best album produced since Reign In Blood.”

“Why are we talking about fucking Slayer, or Skyfire, right now when Ride the Lightning exists?” Billy growls, tugging on Gator’s hair until his scalp stings just the sweetest bit. “I should beat your ass again just for that.“

“Yeah. If you wanna.” he pants, eager, and Billy’s smiling mouth kisses him, hot and hungry. Billy licks into Gator’s mouth, possessive and sweeping, until he whimpers. The dom nips at his plump lower lip with a grin before pulling back.

“Don’t think you realize how sore you’re gonna be when you come down off this high babe.” He says. “But you heard me right? When I said I loved you? Cause I do. I wasn’t about to lose you before over shitty timing, and I’d never let anything take you from me now. Not Dot. Not him. Not anyone or anything. Okay?”

Gator shivers, but even the mention of his father can’t intrude on the blanket of safety Billy has woven around him, the sure way his gaze holds Gator and rings with truth.

“Yeah.” he sighs, breathless.

“Yeah?”

But it’s not good enough, according to Billy’s tightening grip. And fuck that feels good. Gator is suddenly aware of how hard he is in his briefs, but it’s strangely distant. Like he’d be happy to just sit here hard for another hour or more, letting Billy play with him.

“Yes Billy.”

“Good boy.” Billy's voice is soft, infused with a warmth that seeps into Gator's bones, coaxing his tight muscles to loosen.The room around them—their living room with its deep blue walls and plush gray couches— disappears momentarily, focusing all existence on their intimate bubble.

Billy lifts Gator’s chin so their eyes meet. "Nah nah, stay up for me Baby boy. I need you present." His thumbs brush under Gator’s eyes, rubbing warmth into his skin while he waits for Gator’s eyes to focus. "I think it’s time I show you something," Billy continues, when Gator’s gaze is clear once more.

"In the bedroom," Billy instructs softly, "In my sock drawer, there's a small white box. I want you to go and bring it to me."

Gator feels a jolt run through him. It shocks him rather unpleasantly back to reality, like he’s been dropped from a short height.

“Wait what?” he tries to ask, tries to think, because Billy can’t be hinting at what his muddled brain is trying to convince him he is. Can he?

“Shh. Don’t ask questions.” Billy warns. “And absolutely no peeking either. Just go get it.”

Gator’s movements are slow and automatic as he stands and makes his way down the hallway. This isn’t happening. Well obviously it is, he is on his way to their bedroom to open Billy’s drawer - which is strictly hands off unless he has permission - and get some mysterious box. But it’s probably like some new toy they can enjoy together. Maybe Billy went out and finally got those chains Gator found on that web store, the ones with the studs that dig into your wrists the more you struggle? He’s going to feel so owned wearing those. It’s gonna be great.

He’s convinced himself down off the ledge by the time he gets to the bedroom, but his heart hasn’t gotten the memo because it starts going double time in his chest as he reaches for Billy’s drawer. It slips open smoothly under his fingers which are trembling slightly. From fear or excitement, he isn't sure.

Inside lies a small white box, unassuming in its simplicity yet Gator just stands there and stares at it like it’s a bomb for a full minute before lifting it from its nest among Billy's socks. The weight of potential futures presses down upon him as he clutches the box in his hands.

He should be a good boy. He can just turn and go back into the living room and - Fuck it! Gator’s not kidding anyone. Least of all himself.

Before he knows it, Gator has torn off the ribbon and lifted the lid on the box to peek inside.

And there lies a beautiful black leather collar, its surface smooth and flawless except for the bold engraving of 'GATOR' studded across it in shining silver letters.

Gator stares at it in disbelief, eyes flooding with fresh tears. His heart trips over itself in his chest, thrumming against his ribcage like a caged bird desperate for flight.

The room is silent except for the sound of Gator's shallow, ragged breathing. Gator runs his fingers over the cool, shining letters that form his name, the studs scraping against the pads of his fingers sending tingles through him.

He lifts the collar, feeling its weight in his hands. It's heavier than it looks. He brings it closer, inhaling deeply—the leather smells rich and earthy. It’s the good shit. Supple and strong enough to take some serious pull, and yet the inside of the collar is lined with soft velvet, ensuring his comfort.

Something white resting on the blue lining of the box catches Gator’s eye. It’s a folded card, its crisp edge nearly taller than the sides of the box. Gently plucking it up, Gator flicks it open and scans, eyes widening at the one word message inside.

Peeker!

An unexpected burst of laughter escapes him as he wipes away tears. The simple word on the card speaks volumes, but so does Billy’s presence in their bedroom doorway where Gator finds him leaning when he looks up.

Billy is gazing at Gator with an intense mixture of emotions.

"Do you like it?" he asks, and there’s something like worry there. As if Gator might actually have shit for brains and do all that stupid stuff he’d told Dot he’d do back when he was scared shitless. All because he’d convinced himself that Billy wasn’t true - that he’d disappear like every other good thing has.

“Yeah.” Gator sniffs through his red nose, rubbing fiercely at his eyes. “Shit man. How long have you had this?”

“Since right after your birthday actually.” Billy confesses with an easy shrug. Like he isn’t just standing there admitting that he bought a collar for Gator and has been hanging onto it since September.

“Billy! It’s fucking March!”

“I know! I thought if I forbid you from going through my drawer eventually you would. I know what you’re like.” Billy said. Meaning of course he knows that no matter what, Gator eventually messes up.

But Billy says, “I guess I underestimated what a good boy I’ve got, huh?” with this soft look in his eye, like he’s looking at the best sight in the world and not his fuckup boyfriend standing in the middle of their bedroom in his tighty-whities.

Gator might be melting a little, which is why he has to sit down heavily on the bed before he crumples.

“Hey Billy?”

“Yeah, Babe?”

“I’m your sub…” Gator begins and Billy laughs, the sound loud and full of joy instead of mockery.

“No shit?”

“Come on, Billy please. Don’t be mean.” Gator whines, lifting the hand still holding the collar wordlessly and Billy finally takes pity on him and crosses the room to take it from him. Gator trembles, straightening up and bending his neck a little to give Billy room as he claps it on. He gasps a little, shuddering when Billy leans back and the heavy weight settles against his skin.

"You’re my sub," Billy repeats with finality."With or without this. But when you wear this, I want you to remember," he pauses for effect, letting his fingers softly caress down Gator’s neck and over the dark leather. "You’re my gift. The love you give me, makes me Gator, and I thank whatever lucky stars I’ve got that you came into my life when you did. Okay?"

A simple nod is all Gator manages in response; it’s all that’s needed. The smile that spreads across Billy's face is radiant—as if a piece has clicked into place within him too.

Carefully, lovingly, Billy cradles his chin and pulls him into a kiss.

It tastes sweet… like buttercream icing.

[bitchfitch]

hey don't cry. Way fuckin too much Piss Easy creamy veggie and chicken pasta

2 lbs chicken tenders/skinless chicken breasts (optional)

16oz box of bow tie pasta

1/2 bag frozen carrots

1/2 bag frozen broccoli

1 large tomato.

8oz fresh mushrooms.

bag of spinach.

onion if you're yucky like that.

1 brick of cream cheese.

1 cup dairy (whole/half fat/buttermilk/anything high fat)

1/4 ish cup of flour

garlic powder

a number of garlic cloves

salt

pepper

butter or some kinda cooking oil if you're a coward

lemon.

cheap as shit white whine for deglazing the chicken and drinking while you cook. (optional)

1. fill a big ass pot with water, dump the frozen veggies in, set to boil on high heat add salt. More than that.

2. reduce the chicken to 1 inch cubes, fill a bag with flour, salt, and garlic powder. dump the meat in and shake until thoroughly coated.

add pasta to the veggie water as soon as it gets boiling. set a timer for what the box says to cook it for. don't take out the veggies.

3. put a large pan over medium high heat, add butter to Thoroughly coat the bottom in a good layer. crush the garlic into it and stir until the butter in brownish and your kitchen doesn't smell like damp broccoli anymore. add the cubed and powdered meat in a single layer cover and leave alone for like. five minutes?

4. cut the tomato into thin strips or dice it or whatever. Just make it smaller. Chop the spinach and dice the mushrooms too if you're fancy. cube the cream cheese to make life easier on you.

5. check to see if the under side of the chicken is golden brown, flip if it is, have some wine if it isn't and then flip when it is. Let sit until it's time to add it to the pasta or it starts burning.

6. pasta should be done around now, drain it and the veggies, add back to the same pot.

7. check that the chicken is done, salmonella is a vibe based thing, be brave and deglaze with a few splashes of wine.

8. dump/scrape the chicken and pan juice into the pasta pot, add the mushrooms, spinach, tomato, dairy and cream cheese. some more salt to taste. juice the lemon into the pot. and stir until thoroughly combined.

9. oh fuck that's too much food.

10. like a truly absurd amount of food. feeds 2 people for like a week too much.

11. portion out and freeze the extra/make friends with your neighbors/local feral animals by giving them some.

12. thaw frozen portions in broth/water and bullion for instant chicken noodle soup :)

[sundove88]

Hi! Can ya headcanon info dump these guys (and can ya also provide one angst headcanon also for each)?

Pure Vanilla Cookie

Hollyberry Cookie

Dark Cacao Cookie

Golden Cheese Cookie

White Lily Cookie

Ancients in General:

They all have a fondness for gardening- whether that be planting flowers, growing herbs, etc., they all love it the same!

They all deserve a vacation from their jobs because they have absolutely earned it and the right to be happy.

Telenovela nights are their favorite times to be together- they all gather around a tv and binge the newest telenovela (They bring lots of ice cream in case they ever cry)!

Pure Vanilla:

All of his subjects, Black Raisin and her villagers plus Strawberry Crepe included, see him as their dad.

He has done hundreds of weddings for desserts across Earthbread, and enjoys a good celebration or two.

He still has nightmares and will never forgive himself for letting White Lily become Dark Enchantress.

Hollyberry:

Unlike the rest of the Ancients, Hollyberry was BORN chubby and chonky- meaning that she was huggable from the very start!

Whenever someone like Pitaya Dragon crashes her parties post Episode 12, she just asks them to not cause any trouble or steal any cake.

She drowns her sorrows in Berry Juice, which is self explanatory.

Dark Cacao:

He is a fan of macarons, which were once originally hard to come by in his kingdom, but now are abundant in the thousands.

He’s a legend in the horseback riding community, with him and his stallion Jakada (Which was a cheer up gift from The Creme Republic) being a natural riding pair.

He still has nightmares of the time when his family fell apart (His son Dark Choco’s very messed up history when he got the Strawberry Jam Sword; and his wife ChocoPearl temporarily leaving him to help other cookies) and often wakes up screaming, crying, or both.

Golden Cheese:

She’s a genuine philanthropist who wishes to see others happy, and would rather give up everything she ever known than see her kingdom suffer again.

While in the sarcophagus, she didn’t eat ANYTHING for years. Hence why I headcanon her to be very skinny- as in like her bones are showing. This was before she was treated to her daughter Mimi (OC by @thetropicalfairy) and her massive feasts in order to get her strength back up.

When she saw her kingdom destroyed, she recounted not just the names of her most precious treasures, but the names of EVERY casualty.

White Lily:

After the events of Beast Yeast episode 2, she got her own fairy wings- although they’re a little small for the time being, she still takes extra care of them.

She saw Elder Faerie as a father figure to her, and when she told him that she’d do anything to atone for her actions; Elder Faerie simply responded, “White Lily; you’re more of a Faerie Cookie than anyone I’ve ever met.”

Whenever she sees articles of the damage her other half Dark Enchantress caused during the Dark Flour War, she starts bawling remorsefully.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

hey aubrie! hope ur doing well :]. i was wondering, do any of the creeps have religious trauma? and the ones that dont, do they believe in any religion? random question, ive just been down in the dumps abt my religious trauma lately </3

Me when I meant to answer this like four hours ago, covered in flour trying to make dough-

I feel like for me personally at this moment I don’t think any of them do? I haven’t gotten to the point where I’ve considered religious trauma for them despite having my own, but I think that just depends on each individual person and their own headcanons.

Well I mean now that I’m thinking about it EJ… My EJ was raised in a cult and like- Was used as a sacrifice to summon the demon they praised who he then fused with so- So technically EJ you could say. Can’t believe I forgot that.

But I don’t see any of the creeps being religious personally, maybe it’s just tainted by my own hatred of religion, but I can’t see any of them believing in a god. I think I would say to leave it up to you guys in if you headcanon them as religious or not.

I’m sorry if this isn’t the answer you were looking for and I hope you feel better soon!

[thiniceofeternalyouth]

MISLEADIN' ME SERIES: CHAPTER ELEVEN

A RUNAWAY AND A DEADMAN

⊳ Gojo Satoru x f!reader

series masterlist

Genre: angst, fluff, sci-fi, cosmology.

Words count: ~14k

⊲ previous

Under the concentrated puffing on the left, you tried to chop the chocolate bar as small as possible. Over the past couple of hours, you and Megumi have identified a not perfect, but decent recipe for chocolate muffins through trial and error. The boy slowly and methodically stirred the resulting dough with a whisk, trying to get rid of any lumps. When you reached for the bowl to taste the mixture for sugar, you received a resounding slap on the hand. You rolled your eyes and continued chopping the chocolate, trying to turn it to dust.

"Maybe we shouldn't be doing this," muttered Megumi absentmindedly, watching the batter drip off the whisk.

You had to strain your ears to hear what he was mumbling to himself. "What if ya add more flour?" you asked uncertainly, looking at the too-liquid consistency.

"I'm not talking about muffins," Megumi snapped. A chill immediately spread down his back, making the boy shiver – it was all the fault of the sharp sound of a knife sticking into a cutting board. With a sideways glance, Megumi caught sight of you leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over your chest and staring at him. "Sorry."

"If it's not the muffins, then what is it?" you asked, peering into the profile of the frowning face.

"I...," he began, hesitating. "I'm not sure if we should put up with her anymore."

"Has your love gone away, too?"

Megumi looked up sharply, and you could see the anxiety spreading across his young face. "Has it gone away for her?"

"How would I know?" you shrugged dryly. "Ya both sitting silently in your corners and ya seem to be hoping that it'll work itself out there somehow," Megumi took a whisk out of the bowl and pointed a finger at it meaningfully. You chuckled quietly. "Dany always loved chocolate muffins. Kudos for volunteering," you jokingly gave a bow of your head. "Still, that doesn't explain your hesitation."

"Well...," the boy started stirring the dough slowly again as if it was a ritual that brought tranquility. "It's just... Does it make sense?" asked Megumi weakly, and you only hummed thoughtfully. "In the end, it doesn't matter how many friends and loved ones we have. We die alone anyway," the fridge started humming twice as loud, except it was a distortion of Megumi's hearing. He could even hear his own heartbeat, annoying and fast, all from you being silent. He coughed and glimpsed at you, making sure you were still standing next to him. "You don't think so?" 

"To be honest, I, uh... I hadn't thought about that at all," you chuckled nervously. "I'm still a little confused... Ya mean that when ya die ya'll have no one around ya, or vice versa, that despite being surrounded by loving people, ya'll go into oblivion alone?"

"Is there a difference?" he asked warily, almost fearfully.

"Yeah, ya right, I guess. There's not much difference," you sighed, scratching your forehead. "Look, Megumi, if ya wanna live your whole life in some small house in the middle of nowhere alone that's fine. If ya wanna live your life surrounded by a bunch of friends that's fine. If ya wanna live your life with only one person that's fine too, but it's all okay only as long as it's your personal choice.

"Fear rarely leaves a choice," Megumi doubted quietly, dumping your previously chopped chocolate off the board into a bowl.

"That's what I'm telling ya," you said, grabbing the cutting board and putting it in the sink. "Ya'll probably have a brick fall on your head tomorrow, and ya'll be lying in a dark alley all dead and alone," even though the sound of water running and a washcloth rubbing against wood was beginning to echo through the kitchen, Megumi could hear you clearly. "Scared to go outside now?" slyly glancing at the boy and seeing him shake his head in the negative, you smirked contentedly. "Ya can be afraid, but don't let something so ephemeral stop ya from living your life the way ya want to. It'll be fun if at the very end all ya have time to think about is how stupid ya were, not that ya're alone. If ya make it at all, of course," you scrubbed the board clean, but Megumi remained silent. Your patience was wearing thin. You needed either confirmation or persuasion. "So," you chuckled snidely. "What are we deciding? No, no, wait, don't say anything!" you turned to him and waved your hands, stopping him. "Ya better do. I'm offering you a choice - either ya keep making muffins or ya can go cry in your room. I'll understand either way."  

Megumi gave you a glare that glinted angrily in the light of the kitchen garland. "You remind me of someone," he hissed, and continued kneading the chocolate into the dough with double zeal.

You watched his eagerness with satisfaction. "That's what I thought. Okay, philosophical musings are all well and good, but let's have a little talk about training and a plan of action," Megumi glowed when you said that. As much as he could, but you hadn't even noticed the change. "I think it's time for ya to learn regeneration."

"Wouldn't it be better to start with rel-"

He didn't get a chance to speak, for you pressed your palm sharply against his mouth. "Nah-uh," you said slowly, shaking your head and looking into his rounded eyes. You didn't immediately realize that you were clutching his shoulder tightly with your other hand. "Ugh," you exhaled, pulling your hands away from him. "For now, forget that word, do ya understand?" you made a grabbing motion with your palm as if taking the word from his vocabulary. Megumi, pressing his lips tightly together for a second, nodded. "Ya'll be relocate with me anyway, so that's not really important at first times, but the thing that will save your life more than once is running and regeneration. But mostly running, of course," you pointed out.         

"I'm used to standing to the last man," Megumi objected sullenly.

"Ya'll wean," you chirped carelessly. "We're not known for heroics."

"And what the hell do I need this training for then?" blurted Megumi in the way he usually did - though his appearance remained calm, steel rang in his voice. "To run away like a coward?"

"So ya won't die," you parried. "How many people will ya save by being in the grave?"

"Will I save many by running away?" he persisted.

"At least ya'll stay alive and learn your lesson," you reasoned, spreading your arms out to the sides. "And if ya learn it right, ya'll be stronger."

"At the cost of the lives of the people I left behind?" Megumi continued to snarl.

"Exactly," you snapped, and Megumi bit his lip without expecting it himself. He was used to you and your perpetually calm and cheerful tone, and the way it shifted at the snap made the hairs on the back of his neck stir. "Ya volunteered, and now ya're my apprentice. I don't care if ya want it or not, but you will obey me now," you spoke coldly and distinctly. Relaxing your clenched fists, you looked at Megumi. His body was still the same size, but it looked like he was shrinking. Taking a mug from the shelf, you started brewing coffee. "The rest of the voidrunners will start evacuating in a couple weeks, we will join them a little later," you announced, softening your tone. "Ya want coffee?"

"Tea."

"Okay," you said, pulling out a second mug.  

Megumi didn't give up trying to protest. "I can start along with them-"

"Ya can't," you replied dryly. "Ya'll only go on raids with me."

"Do you distrust others that much?" the boy asked, raising his eyebrows skeptically.

You shrugged idly. "It just makes me feel better."

"Isn't it the same thing?"

Letting his words pass your ears, you continued your admonition. "When we're in the void, just drop the bags of supplies and run to the nearest rift. If anything goes wrong and we get separated, don't trust anyone, don't look at anyone, don't talk to anyone," you sighed restlessly, pouring coffee into one mug and putting a tea bag in the other. "Ya'll never guess who's standing in front of ya there," you added quietly.

"Don't you...," Megumi's voice came up, hesitating. "Don't you know how to tell the difference?"

You, with a fussy chuckle, began pouring boiling water into cups.  "No, none of the hunters have built-in internal radar, only experience. And experience, as it goes, comes with the years."

"Too long," grumbled Megumi gloomily. "We don't have that much time."

You set the mug of freshly brewed tea next to him. "Ya wanted it all at once?" you teased him, smiling. "Ya gotta pay tribute to dioreacts. They've spent thousands of years learning how to act like humans. They learned not only how to stir tea or blink, but how to perceive our world in general," you circled the space with your hands for extra convincing. "The first dioreact didn't know that all the electromagnetic waves around them were just color to humans because that's exactly our interpretation of electromagnetic waves, and there is no color anywhere in the universe outside of the human brain. Perhaps the dioreacts even now don't know what color is, but just... Uh, I dunno, adjusted? Maybe they can see wavelengths and have memorized that that wave over there is green and that one over there is grayish brown. Hunters used to catch them at it a lot, but the more time the dioreacts spend among us, the more they learn about our perception."

"What else?" inquired Megumi impatiently. Your hand with the cup of coffee froze at your lips, and you stared at the boy warily. "Forewarned is forearmed, no?" he quipped.

You tapped your fingernail on the cup thoughtfully. "Frank used to tell me that hunters used to catch dioreacts at the 'where ya from?' question. The poor things would just freeze in place with their mouths open, unable to say anything. Probably because humans don't have a single word to describe their homelands because we can't have that knowledge," you sighed sadly without realizing it. "Now the dioreacts have learned, and if you ask, they'll tell ya about all the places on Earth they've been, and they'll tell you their family tree too. I'm exaggerating," you added, noticing Megumi squinting at you incredulously. "But ya," you pointed a finger at the boy. "Don't ya dare pry into anyone in the void with questions. If it's a demon, it'll know right away what ya're up to, so it'll either run away immediately or kill ya," you slid an assessing glance at the boy. "In your case, it's more likely the latter. No offense."

You nonchalantly continued sipping your coffee, hoping it didn't hurt him too much. It didn't occur to you that Megumi had gone through similar words and phrases many times before and he hardly paid attention to yours. Why did it seem to him right now that a previously unsuccessfully nurtured stimulus was faintly stirring inside him, though? "Y/N?" hesitantly Megumi turned to you.

"Hmm?" you hummed detachedly.

"Is Gojo okay with that? Well, that you're training me."

"Yeah," you sighed, setting the empty mug back in the sink. "He grumbled a little, though... But he couldn't just throw ya into the basement with chains with a shout 'I won't let anyone have you'."

"Well, actually he could," Megumi muttered, wrinkling his nose squeamishly.

"But he didn't," you quipped.

"Yeah, he didn't," the boy agreed with you. "Thank you for that."

"I had nothing to do with it."

"That's what you think," the unfamiliar slyness in his voice sent shivers down your spine. "I talked to others, so... You know, we've decided that if we ever move out, you can keep him."

"Thanks," you snickered, and Megumi was already grinning openly. "Go ahead and make the muffins. When ya're done, I'll go over to Dany's and then we'll practice tonight."

Megumi turned sharply toward you. "What?" he blurted out grumpily. "What do you mean 'I'll go over to Dany's'? What about me? Is this some kinda joke to you?" glaring angrily at you, he pointed at his clothes that were almost completely covered in chocolate mixture.

"Ya're not much of a diplomat," you teased, making a face at him. "I gotta feeling her out first, and then ya can talk without me. Now let's get to work," you nodded toward the bowl of dough. 

You stood under the boy's angry gaze for a few more seconds before he went back to making muffins in silence. It was a good thing Megumi was silent, because if he'd said a word, the laughter you were carefully suppressing would have burst out. 

It was a cute yet funny picture of Danielle weeding in the afternoon sun. The girl kept straightening the straw hat that had fallen off her head with her hands smeared in the ground – almost the same color as her bright sparkling hair.

You stood outside the backyard entrance, hesitant to open the wooden gate. Your hand clutched the package of homemade muffins - small but tasty - tighter to your chest, and the thought slipped into your head that if this treat won't help you, nothing would.

You opened the wicket with a deep breath, and Danielle reacted instantly, raising her head. Her hat flew off her head, and the girl, trying to steady it once again, stiffened in surprise. The hoe Dany was holding in her other hand fell to the ground along with the hat.

"Hey there, bun," you said, waving awkwardly at Danielle. "Before ya chase me away, I brought something in my defense," you informed jokingly, covering yourself with the treat package.

Maybe it was the physical exertion, but you wanted to believe that she did feel better. You wanted to squeeze her ruddy cheeks because in addition to the flushed red color, they had gotten a little chubbier. "Hey," you missed that kind tone and the way she was striding toward you to meet you. "I hope it's something edible," she whimpered, wrapping her arms around your shoulders.

Relief spread through your body as Danielle held out her arms to you. You gladly hugged her in return. "Like I don't know ya," you whispered into her hair and heard a soft giggle. "Let's sit down," you suggested and pulled Dany by the arm toward the garden bench that stood neatly against the wall of the house. Barely dragging her feet, Danielle made her way over to the bench, leaning her limp body against the wall. You sat down next to her and put the package on her lap, but she didn't move, half lying there with her eyelids closed. "Frank forced ya into?" you asked sympathetically.

"Yeah," Dany exhaled exhaustedly. "But there's an upside to it!" she braved it cheekily, as much as her strength allowed. "While ya're doing all this shit, all ya can think about is that ya can't wait for it to be over," Danielle said before she could finish - a laugh forming on her lips, and you chuckled in unison with her tired but still gleeful laughter as you admired her.

"He forced me too until I was about twelve," you smirked.

"How did ya get to escape this plantation?" inquired Danielle enviously.

"I rioted," you said belligerently, and the two of you giggled again. "I ripped up everything that was growing in the beds and stomped on it. Frank was so mad," you said, sucking in air through your teeth.

"How did ya even stay alive?" worried Danielle. 

"Shaya saved me," you said, getting nostalgic. "She hid me behind her while Frank threatened to whip me."

"And Shaya didn't do anything to ya?" asked Dany incredulously.

"Nope," you shook your head. "She took me to my room, and when I asked what she was gonna do to me, she said I'd already punished myself," you exhaled convulsively, wrapping your arms around yourself. "I spent the whole night agonizing and thinking about her words, trying to figure out what she meant. I didn't realize until this morning. I was the one sowing and weeding those damn beds," Dany opened her eyes slightly. She was watching you from under half-open eyelids - at the way your gaze roamed the garden across from you. The girl rarely heard the longing in your voice, and every such moment returned with an unaccustomedness in her heart that made it beat faster. "I want ya come back home with me," you asked quietly.

"I want it, too," Danielle muttered in embarrassment, closing her eyes again.

Her desire was reflected in your phone. Not a single call, not a single message. "Why don't I keep ya as a garden slave for a couple more weeks?" you blurted out indignantly. "It gives ya a zeal, I see."

With eyes already wide open, Dany jumped up. The box nearly flew off her lap. "No!" she begged, looking up at you and clutching the package back to her.

"If ya want something, you have to say it," you muttered indignantly. "Ya'd better open it," you said, nodding toward the box. "Ya were hungry, weren't ya?"

With a hesitant nod, Danielle slowly unwrapped the package. She didn't know whether it was the sight of the ridiculous chocolate muffins or the tart but sweet smell that clouded her mind faster. She grabbed one and swallowed it whole, oblivious to herself or her own name. You mentally thanked Megumi for his decision to take the smaller baking dish.

You coughed meaningfully, slyly examining your nails in the sunlight. "Ya know, I didn't actually make them."

"What?" she whimpered excitedly with her mouth full. "I said I'd come back, but I didn't say anything about a relationship with Megumi-"

"Yeah, yeah," you sarcastically interrupted her, carelessly waving her words away. "Sure."

[June 19, 2020; 01:23am; hunters' hq]

Feeling the warmth of the couch was all your back had been asking for lately, and you'd been obediently fulfilling your body's desire despite your own. Your head rested peacefully in Kyle's lap, your eyes roaming the news feed on your phone.

You didn't notice how restlessly you fidgeted with your legs from time to time, not even the annoying sound of the soft material rustling could quiet you. Every time you fidgeted, you felt a soft scratching at the back of your head as you turned from one side to the other.

"What's wrong?" asked Kyle puzzled as you rolled over once again, sighing irritably.

"Everything's fine," you waved it off indifferently.

"Ya have a disgruntled face," he remarked, grinning.

You pulled yourself up and sat down, leaning back against the couch. "Rach only brought out two people," you rambled worriedly. "Only two, Kyle," you shoved a hand in his face with your index and middle finger raised. "That's an incredibly bad start."

Kyle intercepted your palm and kissed the pad of your finger. "Oh, come on," he laughed, looking at your perplexed face and releasing your hand. "It's a good start. She brought your new acquaintance out with her, by the way," he reminded you reasonably. "And Issu might bring more people out with him."

You turned and stared at the infirmary door, remembering the way Doc had slammed it shut in front of you and Kyle. Doc was an irritable, taciturn man, but the thought of how much work he'd have to do in the next few weeks made you shiver.

"...to the previous news. The incident that occurred in April this year in the nightclub N..."

Even though you were in your own thoughts, your skin began to itch painfully in places. You wanted to catch a glimpse of Nora, or Rachel, or that old lady whose name you couldn't ask - the old woman who'd come out of the void unconscious and ended up in the infirmary.

"...contacting the police station. Now, the police have suspended the investigation for unspecified reasons. In the following footage you can see a protest organized near the police station by the parents of the missing as well as concerned people..."

"Hey," Kyle called softly, tugging gently on your earlobe. You stirred, tore your gaze away from the infirmary door and dropped your head back into his lap. "Don't distress yourself. It's gonna be okay."

"I know," you exhaled gloomily. "It's just that I'm freaking out about being banned from the void and there's no way I can check to see if everything's okay."

"Oh, what bad guys we are," Kyle drawled sarcastically, pinching you again. "Taking care of your health."

"That's not what I meant," you muttered, waving his hands away. "Ya remember what Rach said after she came out of the void?"

"Yeah," Kyle nodded briefly. "That people are afraid to come out. They don't even believe Jonah."

"Exactly," you said. "Do ya remember any of this ever happening?" you tried to speak calmly, but you were out of breath.

"I'll still go on the raid after Issu, and I promise ya, I'll figure it out," he assured you softly, stroking your forehead with his thumb. "Don't worry."

"...at least twenty people. To date, eighteen of the missing have been identified..."

From the TV screen, neither pictures nor photographs looked at you. Ghosts. They wandered, hovering around you, but they dared not touch you. Against your better judgment, you felt their presence, felt their stares, felt even their silence. It felt like a dark silent whisper on your skin as if the ghosts were breathing right next to you. "Twenty-three," you said in a mesmerized whisper, looking at another picture of familiar features on the screen.

Kyle glanced fearfully at your face. It seemed pale in the light from the TV. "What?" he asked perplexedly.

You lifted yourself up again and sat up, tucking your legs under you, but you didn't do it as quickly as you had the first time. "Kyle, I haven't told ya everything," you said, guiltily hiding your gaze from his. "I think there's a diomorphea in there."

A second long silence made you look up. "Why didn't ya... Why didn't ya tell me at once?" there wasn't an ounce of accusation in his voice. Rather, a genuine misunderstanding of your disbelief.

"I was afraid ya'd tell Rach," you justified, looking at him dejectedly and shaking your head. "Ya know her, she would have just stormed in there and god knows what would have happened. Either she'd be dead, or a bunch of demons and with them the ones we're trying to save. Or both of it. I'm sorry," you shook your head harder.

Gently wrapping his arms around your shoulders, Kyle pulled you against him. "What did I promise ya just now?" he asked, leading you to think.

You rested your head on his shoulder, but you didn't dare take your eyes off the pictures. "That ya'll figure it out," you exhaled. "Kyle, ya can't keep fixing our fuck-ups forever."

"I'm your big brother," he grinned, stroking your back. "That's my job."

Wrapped in a blanket of warmth from a loved one, you couldn't help yourself. These people were still here with you, even if they didn't realize it. They were staring at you, drilling you, making you grit your teeth. You couldn't even cover your eyes because you'd just thought the russet-haired girl looking at you from the screen had blinked.

[June 20, 2020, 20:01, Tokyo, Tokyo Prefecture]

As you made your way along the roads of the busy evening city, you kept looking at your phone, for only maps helped you not to get lost in the stone jungle. Even though there were signboards at every turn, all those bright colors combined with the abundance of symbols and running from side to side to avoid hitting anyone in the crowd of people made your head spin.

You couldn't count the number of crosswalks you'd crossed, you didn't want to think about how many of them you'd crossed for nothing. Your desperate attempt to find a nightclub had taken you to unfamiliar places, and you stopped and sighed disappointedly, staring at your phone again, completely oblivious to the people you might be interrupting.

Disappointment was immediately replaced by bewilderment when a name popped up on your phone instead of maps. "Yeah?" you said hesitantly, bringing the phone to your ear.

"I can't leave you alone even for a minute, huh?" resented Gojo. "Where did you go?"

"I...," you started in confusion, looking around. "Uh," you muttered, turning around the other way, looking for clues. "I think I'm somewhere in Tokyo's downtown, but I'm not quite sure."

An irritated tongue cluck was heard on the other end. "What do you see?"

"Hmm," you pondered, continuing on your way. "I see a dental clinic," you looked over the hospital sign and cast a glance back over your shoulder. "Behind me is the Minami Hotel, I guess?" puzzled, you stopped at a crossroad. "There's something else around the corner that looks like a park and playground-"   

Someone's arms went around your waist. "Boo!" they shouted in your ear, but you didn't even flinch, just squeezed your eyes shut at the loud sound. "Hey, you could at least look scared," came a cranky voice from behind you. 

You tilted your head up, and instead of an offended face, you were met with a bright smile. "What, in public?" you asked hesitantly.

Gojo rubbed his nose against your forehead. A brief gesture that sent warmth through your limbs. "I'm not shy about expressing my lo-"

"I mean about the teleport," you interrupted quickly.

With an irritated snort, he let you out of his arms and you moved forward. "So where are we going?"

"To a nightclub," you replied carelessly.

"At your age?" resented Gojo, wrinkling his nose. "It's a little too late for that." 

You paid no attention to his words, just continued to look around at the signs, completely oblivious to the fact that you now had a tour guide beside you. "Ya wouldn't happen to know anything about what happened at Nightclub N, would ya? It's still on the news, even though it happened back in April."

"Oh," stunned Gojo. "I was there day after, but no curses or cursed energy was there." 

"And ya didn't tell me?" you huffed, glaring at him judgmentally.

"I didn't even think about it," he admitted honestly, shrugging his shoulders. "And you weren't back then," Gojo glanced at you, and seeing no anger or disappointment on your face, he exhaled in relief. "So what are we doing?"

"It would be a good idea to start by talking," you reasoned, looking ahead. "I had Meg do some snooping, and she found out that it's not just visitors who've been hit, but employees too. One, at least."

"So-so information," he grudgingly opined.

"Maybe," you agreed. "Better than nothing, though."

Surprisingly, things did go faster with Gojo, and you didn't feel so lost in the dust of the big city. You'd been wandering around that nightclub all this time, but for some reason you'd ignored the turn into the courtyard. He took your hand in his and led you to the right place in a few minutes - the best guide ever. 

You pulled a wireless earphone out of the case and put it in your ear. "Meg, turn it off," you had only one answer to Gojo's questioning look. "Cameras," you explained with a shrug.

Nothing stands out - your first thought when you found yourself at the front doors. There weren't even any neon signs in this place - a simple gawker would easily miss a place like this in the night. While you pondered, Gojo walked to the door. Opening it, he gestured for you to come inside. 

The first thing you encountered as you walked down the hallway dotted with plastic vegetation was the hostess desk. A woman in a white dress seemed to be filling out something, paying no attention to you. "Ahem," you coughed quietly, stepping closer to the counter.

The girl raised her head. "I apologize," she said sincerely, bestowing a welcoming smile. Her gaze focused as if she had just been pulled out of her thoughts. You nodded understandingly in response.

The hostess stared at you for a second, then looked behind you. Her eyes widened in surprise for a moment, and a blush appeared on her snow-white cheeks. It was obvious without words who she was admiring. "I apologize," she repeated, barely moving her eyes to you. "We're only open from ten p.m. onwards. Would you like to make a reservation in the VIP area?" she handed you one of the sheets she'd just filled out. "You can look over the seating and choose the one that best suits you."

"That's not why we're here," you said quietly and the corners of the woman's lips slowly but surely crept down.

She glanced furtively toward the dance area, which was behind a decorative grid. The grid was covered with flowers, but you could see the bar, where someone was already standing and looking in your direction. "If you're journalists, just go away," she whispered anxiously.

You took the sheet from her hands, and began to pretend to consider the seating plan. "Ya misunderstand," you assured her. "I'm a private investigator, I was hired by one of the families of the missing," the hostess shifted a concerned yet questioning look to Gojo. "Don't worry, it's just my comp-"

"Her husband," he stated, putting his arm around your shoulders. "Just family business."

"Well, or so...," you muttered, sighing. 

"Mochi, have you already chosen where we're gonna sit?" his voice was already too ringing at times, but this time it was as if Gojo was deliberately speaking louder than usual. "Smile," he addressed the girl, and in contrast, his words sounded very quiet. You glimpsed again at the bars - it seemed that those who stood there had ceased to be interested in you.

She put on a duty smile. "Reservations are optional if you want to visit the dance area," she said in a minted but sweet tone.

You pretended to stroke Gojo's forearm that wrapped around your collarbones. In one deft motion, you pulled the picture from inside pocket, placing it under the sheet you were holding. Placing the paper on the counter, you tapped a random spot. "I think we'll sit here," you pushed the sheet away. "Do ya know her?" your quite question caused the girl's ribcage to begin to heave heavily when she saw the russet-haired girl. You mentally scolded her for potentially attracting unnecessary attention. "She worked here." 

"Did her parents hire you?" the hostess fought her inner emotions for an outward smile. "I don't know," she whispered fearfully, though she was still smiling full-mouth. "I really don't know anything," her eyes glittered dangerously, and you carefully covered the picture with the paper. "Please, go away."

"Thanks," you said loudly and cheerfully, backing away from the counter. "See ya later," you nodded her goodbye and took Gojo's hand, and you headed toward the exit. 

Barely waiting until you were on the other side of the glass doors, he stopped right in front of you. "So that's it?" he lamented. "We're just gonna leave like this?"

"No need to draw unnecessary attention. She was scared enough. I thought she was about to cry," you sighed doomfully. "But I left her phone number on the back of the picture."

"Okay," he drawled, smiling slyly. "Now what?"

After sneaking through a narrow alleyway and soiling your clothes in wet dust, you wandered around the back of the police station. Stopping at the wall of an adjacent building, you decided to exhale and think. Why was the hostess so scared? If it wasn't the employees at the bar, then who was standing there during off hours? Moreover, why did the girl only shake harder when she saw the picture?

From Gojo's perspective and in his opinion, you looked suspicious - two subjects loitering in the back of a police station. What was he supposed to do when he heard the back door click? Nothing but that - that's how he reassured himself as he pressed you against the wall. "Just play along, 'kay?" he whispered, facing your panicked incomprehension - you'd been pulled from your thoughts too abruptly. 

You nodded hesitantly, but you weren't reassured by his plan or his actions. For the moment Gojo cupped your cheek, you felt that his fingers trembled. "Have you ever kissed?" you couldn't hear the inherent curiosity in his voice, the only thing you could catch among the words he spoke was sincerity. "Take it off," he demanded, leaning his forehead against yours. "Take off your mask," his words and actions became more insistent - his hand pressed you against him with such force that it was physically hard to breathe. 

"Hey!" a sharp exclamation gave you the strength to push him away from you. "Girl, are you okay?" the police officer asked, flicking ash off his cigarette.

"Yeah," you assured him. "W-we just... Uh, we just forgot ourselves a little. I'm sorry," you said, taking another step away from Gojo.

"Kids...," the officer muttered. "You should go home and do this sort of thing," he admonished. Taking one last puff, the policeman put out the cigarette butt, tossed it in the trash can, and went inside.

"Uh, well," you sighed, making up for the lack of oxygen. Looking around the wall of the one-story police station, you noticed that there were two windowless passages - probably one of those rooms was what you needed.

Carefully making sure no one was looking in your direction from the windows, you moved closer to the wall, Gojo's confusion replaced in an instant by a prick of anger. He was immensely resilient, but even he was beginning to tire of your behavior. It was as if nothing had ever happened.

"And how would we get there?" you muttered to yourself, squinting at the brickwork.

Of course, he couldn't pass up the opportunity to tease you. It was beyond him. "What, are you out of energy because of your shaky legs?" he asked in a teasing tone, coming up behind you.

"No, it's just that I can't teleport to a point I haven't seen before," your seriousness made him roll his eyes so hard he could have sworn he saw his own brain. "There could be anything in there, after all. A box, another wall, or an iron pole. And I don't really wanna become a part of that."

"What a weakling you are," Gojo grimaced, grabbing you under the armpits and lifting you into the air. When he released you, you were already standing on the floor. Indoors.

It was dark here - not a single light bulb shone, but even so you could make out a bunch of metal lockers against the walls, a few long benches, and some scattered things. Locker room. No hits. Next room across the hall, then.

You went to the door and stood still, listening. There were no voices, no footsteps, no rustling. You gripped the knob and pulled gently, turning it. When the door wouldn't budge, you applied force and pulled a few more times. Nothing.

A tired, condescending sigh came from behind you. Gojo grabbed your shoulder and pulled you aside, then grabbed the handle of the door and opened it with a quiet crack.

In the darkness, you met only his arrogant smile. "Congratulations," you said sarcastically. "When they see this, everyone will realize someone's been loitering around here." 

"And this is your gratitude?" whispered Gojo indignantly. 

Instead of answering and bickering, you grabbed his hand and dragged him as quietly as possible down the hallway in the right direction. When you came to the next door, he moved you into the room without thinking or warning.

That's what it took to get to the evidence room, but it didn't look the way you'd imagined. The shelves were more for show, for there were boxes and packages scattered carelessly on them, just as there were on the floor.

Gojo picked up one of the clear bags, and after looking it over, handed it to you. You grinned approvingly when you saw the date and place written in black marker. 

You silently began to scour the shelves and floor in search of at least the year you needed. The place was a mess, but systematicity still seemed from around the corner, slyly peering at what you were doing. You had already made it to January, and not wanting to miss anything, you took your time. "What makes you think demons are involved here anyway?" asked Gojo, setting another box aside. 

"I saw them," you replied, scrutinizing the dates. "I saw those people right before I came out of the void."

"That's how," he replied, catching a glimpse of you. His tense shoulders relaxed every time he saw you start to put on weight. He'd already gone through almost the entire March, and after tossing aside a few more unwanted plastic bags, he got to the right one. "Hey," he quietly called out to you. "Is this it?"

You took the box in your hands.

#413091

April 6, 2020

Tokyo, Tokyo Prefecture, Nightclub N

Sealed

"It is," you answered without much joy. As you weighed the box in your hands, you looked up at Gojo with a puzzled look. "What kinda mockery is this?" you asked warily, setting the overly light box on the floor. Breaking the seal and opening it, you pursed your lips in frustration.

There was almost nothing, just a few cigarette butts with lipstick marks, a couple of bottles, a folding knife, bloody napkins, but, remarkably, one bag of white pills. "Not only did the police shut down the investigation, but the club was still working while the investigation was ongoing, now there's no evidence. Who's protecting them?" you wondered, reaching for the bag of pills.

"Probably the one who dragged people into the void," Gojo suggested, trying to find anything else on the bottom. 

"Well, or at least someone closely associated with them. It wouldn't be a bad idea to find the owner of the club," you considered the pills, but there was nothing remarkable on them. Just a pure white color. "If the owner is aware of what's going on and he isn't a fool, there's probably some subsidiary company attached to the club, followed by the parent company, and the real names in that holding company are no longer to be found," you opened the bag and held it up to your nose. Nothing. Frowning puzzled, you slipped the packet to Gojo. "Smell anything?"

As soon as he brought it to his face, he immediately pulled it away, pinching his nostrils. "God... The smell is nice, but it's so pungent that...," he stammered, wiping away the tears that came to his eyes. "Put that away," he said and threw the bag at you.

You caught him deftly, and you and the pills stared at each other. The gears of your mind whirred again. You knew of only one demon capable of such brazen machinations right in front of everyone's eyes. If the pills contained black orchid that didn't bode well because in small quantities it was like a drug that induced a state of euphoria, and judging by the number of pills, the demon was obviously not alone in that club.

You glanced at the broken seal - eventually they'd find out that someone had been digging around here. The question was whether they'd find out who it was. "Let's get out of here," you said to Gojo and was about to move towards the door, but with the edge of your thief eye you caught a shine. "O-oh, what do we have here," you drawled mesmerized, reaching for the sealed bag containing the necklace. 

"Are you crazy?" blustered Gojo, intercepting your hands. "We're not stealing evidence!" you snorted meekly but grudgingly, wrenching your hands free and quickly hiding them in your pockets, which made him squint his eyes suspiciously. "Empty your pockets," Gojo demanded in a commanding tone, to which you only flinched. "I said empty them!" he exclaimed, and despite your resistance, he did find what he was looking for, but not under the right conditions. A pair of gold rings. Gasping with indignation, he tossed them farther into a pile of boxes. "We're not stealing evidence! Geez, adults once told me not to get with the wrong crowd, but here I am," he whimpered, running a hand through his snow-white hair. 

As he lamented, you couldn't stop the process - thoughts raced, each one trying to overtake the other. You couldn't hear the key turning in the locks or the quiet footsteps because of the silent noise. "Hands up," you raised your head, only to be met with an unfamiliar face and a gun pointed in your direction. "I said hands up!"

"Hey, hey," you justifiably rambled, raising your hands. "We can explain-"

"We?" barked the police officer. "Girl, are you out of your mind?" You barely had time to turn your head back before you heard the safety click, but even that couldn't alarm you as much as the realization that there was no one behind you. "Face the wall," the officer ordered, muzzle pointing at the wall.

You went obediently to the wall, and when you were almost there, you were pushed against it. Holding you by the neck with one hand, the policeman snapped your arms, and there was a clinking sound. Handcuffs.

If someone asked you at the beginning of the day how you'd spend your evening, you could list a bunch of options - watching a TV show, meeting with insiders, chasing the next artifact, sitting around a campfire with Kyle or Rachel, having a cup of tea or even a glass of wine - but you'd never guess how you'd actually spend it.

Part of your evening consisted of traveling to the holding cell at gunpoint.

When your handcuffs were removed, your phone, belt and earrings were taken away, the bars slammed shut behind you with a deafening clang. You pressed your face between the steel bars. "Hey," you called out to the departing cop. "I'm entitled to one phone call."

"Why don't you get a lawyer, too?" snickered the duty officer.

"Preferably. But ya'll need it if ya don't let me call," you said nonchalantly, keeping a friendly attitude.

Of course, you could have vanished from the cell as soon as he left, but you didn't want to be known as a fugitive on news programs across the country.

The man paused for a moment, thinking about something, and then turned back to you. With his piercing gaze boring into you and his hand on his holster, he handed you the phone, and as soon as you picked it up, it rang.

You shrugged your shoulders and backed away from the bars to avoid having it taken from you. "That'll count as your call," the man warned you.

You brought the phone to your ear, mentally preparing yourself for what awaited you. "Say please," Gojo scoffed from the other side. "Come on," he coaxed, taunting you. "Say please and maybe I'll get you out." 

"I hope ya're pleased with yourself," were all the words that you could muster, stepping over your pride. "Please."

You heard neither confirmation nor another round of teasing; only short beeps. Despondently, you handed the phone to the officer, and as long as you had strength left, you clung to the iron bars and listened to every action that took place. The police officer seemed to be watching something, and every now and then, you heard the clatter of a mug against the table.

It seems like five minutes or fifteen have passed - you can't count in a cramped cell without a clock. The front door slammed, and loud footsteps sounded. "Please excuse my wife," a familiar chirp tickled your ears. "She's having a seasonal exacerbation."

***

You had already traveled a great distance, leaving the police station behind, but you hadn't said a word, which amused Gojo and worried him at the same time. Anyway, you still let him hold your hand, which meant you weren't that angry.

He was annoyed that he couldn't read your emotions because half of your face was hidden - it was like ripping half of a book out before he could read the rest of it. The question was no longer whether you were angry or hurt, but did you feel anything at all? "Well," he began slyly. "Are you gonna sulk like that?" 

"I can't believe it," you said reproachfully, shaking your head. "Ya left me. Ya left me, abandoned me, humiliated me-"

"Is that how you talk to the man who bailed you out?" laughing, he stopped and stood right in front of you.

"It was a bribe!" you retorted indignantly.

"I'd do it again," he admitted solemnly, looking haughtily and cheerfully into your eyes.

"I know," you whispered. "But I thought we were best friends," he didn't notice the triumph replaced by panic the first time he saw your wounded gaze.

"No, no," he rambled anxiously, gently cupping your cheeks. "It's just a joke, really, I was just kidding-"

"I would never do that to ya," you managed to say, swallowing the lump in your throat. You wrapped your palm around his - the one that pressed harder against your face. You bit your lip in frustration. "I would never leave ya," seeing the glint in your averted gaze made everything inside him flip - from his soul to his organs. That wasn't the kind of glint he wanted to see. "I know I don't act the way ya'd like me to sometimes, but- Oh," your face changed immediately, from sadness to pure curiosity, and you let go of his hands and stepped around him, heading somewhere.

He was one-step away from bursting into tears himself, but your actions have left him stumped. After a moment of standing as if you were still here, he turned around. You were striding briskly toward the huge red glowing sign that read 'Spicy Dumplings'.

One might have thought that this was not enough to stomp on his heart, but then, as luck would have it, he thought that it had become too light in his pocket. His purse were missing. "Seriously?" he sighed, throwing his head back and staring up at the night sky covered in light noise. "There are so many people in the world, why her?" the stars were hidden - the stars were silent.

Megumi had seen his reflection in the mirror countless times and just as many times he'd experienced nothing - a man like a man, a person who didn't stand out, but now, as Kyle walked around him in circles with a measuring tape around his neck and pins stuck in his shirt, the boy felt genuinely excited.

Even though Megumi felt like a mannequin being abused, occasionally getting needles under his skin by accident, he still thought it was worth it. Megumi glanced at the mask made for him. Even without filters, it looked heavy, but the precise curves of its rigid material made it somewhat dangerous.

The boy jerked when Kyle once again grazed the skin on his shoulder with the pin. "Sorry," Kyle muttered. "I'm not very good at this."

"Then why don't others do it?" grunted Megumi, staring at himself in the mirror again.

The man only chuckled - no offense intended. "May I remind ya," he began softly in between. "Ya don't have to do this."

"I know," Megumi replied stubbornly. "I don't know how to do anything else, though."

"Do ya?" wondered Kyle sincerely. "What, no hobbies?"

Megumi looked at Kyle as if he was hearing those words for the first time. The man pressed his lips together understandingly and continued his tailor's work. Seeing another section of loosely dangling fabric, he pinched it down the boy's body and secured it with a pin. "Ya know, when ya get back, we can go fishing with together," he suggested light-heartedly, pulling out the now unnecessary needle and, finding no better option, jammed it between his teeth. "Or I could teach ya how to play the guitar," as Kyle cheerfully enumerated, Megumi only frowned his eyebrows harder. "In a pinch, we can weave beaded bracelets with ya," he laughed and his soft, deep voice floated around the room. "Okay, well, try this on," Kyle said, handing him the mask.

The mask was a little heavier than it looked, and Megumi held it for a moment before taking a deep jagged breath and leaning it against his face. The mask, making a clicking sound, sat perfectly. "How's that? Fine?" inquired Kyle, not giving up on trying to get Megumi to talk.

"Yeah," Megumi replied indifferently, and his voice came strangled and mechanical, but Kyle was used to that. "Just hot in this uniform."

"That's what ya saying now," Kyle pointed out. "Ya'll thank me a hundred times in the void."

"You?" the boy asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

The room went up in flames in an instant as if everything was lit up in red flames, but barely had the flash subsided when Megumi saw that it was Kyle's hands that were burning. "Me," Kyle said cheekily but still jokingly. "I'm the one in charge of thermoregulation here."

Megumi stared mesmerized at the man's hands - a second ago, they were still burning, burning as bright and hot as his disheveled gut. "I want that, too," the boy muttered quietly.

"Too, huh?" Kyle smirked meaningfully. "So ya okay with everything else?" turning away in embarrassment, Megumi tried to pull the mask off, but it wouldn't budge. He kept tugging at it while Kyle watched his desperate attempts. "Lemme help ya, you're gonna rip your face off," the man offered. "There are buttons on the sides," he informed, pulling the mask off the boy.

"You couldn't tell me before, could you?" an indignant Megumi panted, rubbing the line of his chin.

"My bad. Sorry," Kyle couldn't help it - the smile wouldn't leave his face. "By the way, uh… How's it going... with Dany?"

Megumi hated it when someone poked their nose into his life, much less his personal life. Shutting down, withdrawing into himself was the first reaction brought on by years of building up an internal psychology, but now that Megumi saw the unfamiliar warm gaze, he was glad that there was at least one person who was genuinely interested in his inner state. "I don't know, she doesn't talk to me," the boy said sullenly. "It would be better if she just told me she doesn't like me anymore," he added quietly.

"And how is that better?"

"Then I'd know for sure I don't stand a chance anymore," Megumi despaired. "I've been trying to catch up to her in training, but she's even running faster than me. I can't look for her in these damn woods," Megumi muttered, pulling off the top of his uniform and handing the fabric to Kyle.

Kyle knew that he shouldn't laugh at problems - neither big ones, nor small ones, nor their description. He was trying his best to remain silent now, only nodding significantly. "Well...," he drawled. "So there's definitely motivation to train even harder now."

"People have their limits," Megumi frowned, tugging on his home t-shirt with a jerk. "I think I've reached mine."

"Ya'd best remember well what ya just said," the man said sternly. "Remember it well and forget it. Otherwise, if I hear ya say that again, we'll stop training ya."

"And I'll continue without you," Megumi stubbornly persisted. "I may not be in control of it yet, but with or without you, I can still walk into the void."

"And die," Kyle finished for him, though the boy's sentence didn't require it. "Ya know what that's called? Cut off nose to spite face," seeing Megumi's haggard face, Kyle softened. "Come on," he paternally patted the boy on the top of his head. "How about this. When ya get back, I'll set up a rendezvous for ya and Dany."

Megumi hummed incredulously, shifting from foot to foot. "Can you really make it?"

Kyle didn't know what he was signing up for. Persuading a stubborn girl and trying to change her mind was a deep hole that couldn't be climbed out of with walls or even a ladder, but when he saw the faint smile flash across Megumi's face, he knew it was worth it. "I'll try."

You were already cooing with the waiter when you'd been apart for a minute – that was what Gojo saw in his mind, distorted by an unknown feeling. When the corners of your eyes crinkled once more, he felt an unfamiliar tingle under his ribs. It was directed, burning. 

In two strides, he'd covered the distance from the front door to the table you were at and plopped down across from you. "Baby, could you not run away from me like that anymore?" shifting his gaze from you to the waiter, it went from soft to steely, all the blue was gone. The waiter was embarrassed by his direct gaze, and after glancing at you and seeing your nod, he hurriedly retreated to the kitchen. "So much for service," he muttered, looking after the waiter. "I didn't even order anything."

"I ordered ya mild shrimp dumplings and two cheesecakes," you said, looking at his profile - something in the air felt spicy from more than just the smell of the local sauce.

He didn't realize whether he liked it or not that you knew him well, the only thing that bothered and hurt him was that he didn't know you. Not even that. He knew something about you, but only from other people's words and among them was none of yours. "Well?" he inquired, finally turning in your direction. "What's next?" 

"Cholesterol plaques," you chirped in pleasant anticipation. "I've been eating nothing but soup and porridge for weeks now, one more day like this and I'll hang myself."

"I'd look at that," Gojo drawled detachedly.

"Is something wrong?" you worried. "It's like ya angry."

He was silent for a few more good moments, staring out the window and tapping his finger on his chin. "Frank told me you've been missing for three years. What have you been doing?" you swallowed all the words out of surprise and stared at him stunned. "What?" asked Gojo indifferently. "You know everything about me, I know nothing about you. That's not very fair." 

"It's not like I have a choice," you tried to gently remind him.

"Really?" his voice remained calm, but it still made you want to squirm in your seat. "My negligent students tied you up and made you listen to all the facts about me?"

"It's dif-"

"Different, yeah," he interrupted, shaking his head and leaning back in his chair - away from you. An inner voice yelled at him to shut his mouth, too bad Gojo was deaf at that moment. "Tell me, what does human meat taste like? I heard somewhere that it tastes like chicken, is that true?" your heart was definitely tied with fishing line and started to squeeze, and if not, why did you feel like blood was dripping off it? "Oh, come on," he laughed, seeing the subtle change on your face. "Well, you ate a couple people, who among us is not without sin?" 

You looked around, almost unable to see anything through the haze, but there didn't seem to be anyone near you. "If we don't shut this down, I'm gonna eat ya too," you tried to guffaw, keeping your face straight. "Alive."

"I'm just trying to get to know you better," Gojo stared at you, trying to catch everything he could - gestures, facial expressions, anything. Every time he caught something he wanted, satisfaction involuntarily spread through his body. Paradoxically, the thought of enjoying it made him sick, but he couldn't help it - your hypocrisy was wearing him down. You were the one who'd first said you'd never revisit the subject, and yet every day with every unspoken word, you reminded Gojo that you didn't trust him. "I get that you're trying to seem mysterious, but have you ever wondered how it looks?" he chuckled sarcastically. "You look like a wretched runaway," you sat up, listening and memorizing every word. "Maybe I should tell you what happens to people who don't open up to anyone?" he leaned closer to you as if he wanted to tell you a secret that was known only to him. "Let me better demonstrate, though," Gojo got up from the table, and still looking at you, distanced himself a couple steps away. "Look at that," he snapped his fingers, pointing to his now empty seat and grinned contentedly. "You're all alone."  

Gojo didn't try to get to know you better because then he could have asked you what your favorite color was, or movie, or music, but no. He got under your skin. Deliberately and painfully, choosing words that scratched and bit, and you didn't even have time to ask 'why' because his back, which had already disappeared behind the front door, would hardly have answered your question.   

[June 30, 2020, 23:14, hunters' hq]

[10:59pm] You: We are going on a raid in an hour

[10:59pm] You: Megumi will text ya when he gets back

This message, like the previous ones, remained delivered but unread. Looking at it again, you went back to your routine. Books, lots of medical supplies, and more dry rations were what lay on the table. You and Kyle spread it all out into gym bags as compactly as possible, good thing you could carry twice as much into the void this time - thanks to your new apprentice.

Worries and doubts scrabbled at your mind as you put another packet of ibuprofen in your bag - did you tell Megumi everything you wanted to? Had you conveyed everything to him? Did he understand everything? The only thing you knew for sure was that you couldn't let him out of your sight. The first few times, at least.

You never missed an opportunity to remind the boy that if anything went wrong, he should run and not look back, and each time you said it aloud, you caught an increasingly annoyed look in his eyes. You believed that at the right moment, your words would play an annoying song in Megumi's head and he would do what you wanted him to do, even if it was against his own will. "Okay," Kyle pulled you out of your thoughts. "I got rid of most of the wardens, but others could come, be careful," he admonished you for the umpteenth time. "Remember they have been abused badly, more so than the others have ever told us, that's why they so afraid to come in contact. But I've prepared the ground," he poked you quietly with his shoulder. "Since Rachel took out three people, Issu will probably take out as many more, which means there will be at least two more in the hut," he wasn't discouraged, and you hummed in response.  "Well," Kyle began in between, seeing your state of mind. "He still hasn't called?"

"Busy, I guess," at this point you ratted yourself out, for your brother didn't even give a name.

"I bet," Kyle muttered, pressing the contents of the bag to make some more room. "Why is your face long?"

"Not long, but focused," you brushed it off.

"Yeah, as ya say. Ya've been frowning for over a week. Even if I can't see it, I can feel it. And he hasn't been here in all that time," even though Kyle didn't like Gojo, there was a touch of sympathy in his voice. "What happened between ya two?" 

"Nothing happened," you retorted. "And nothing's gonna happen," you added, softening. "He just... Dunno, he just got mad all of a sudden. Maybe it's because I don't tell him anything about me or what happened to me," you sighed sadly, your actions becoming slower and moodier.

Kyle was angry. You'd never told anyone anything, not even your loved ones, so where did Gojo get this idea of his uniqueness? "He'll get over it," he muttered. "If he doesn't, the hell with him. Let him cling to someone else." 

"Ya'd be happy to," you said, grinning slyly. Maybe there was truth to Kyle's words, but you couldn't wash away that sticky acrid feeling with water or soap. Gojo must have felt the same way then. You were both disappointed in you. "We forgot the sugar," you said, going through the supplies on the table. "I'll get it." 

At your brother's concerned look, you walked out of the workroom, went up the stairs and down the hallway. You were already a foot away from the fridge, only the sickening feeling of suddenly soaked socks made you cringe. "What the...," you squeaked, taking a step back.

There was water under the refrigerator. In spite of the puddle, you walked over to it and jerked open the door - not even a light bulb on. "Great," you mumbled to the empty room, and jerked the door back shut.

As if you didn't have enough troubles already, now you had to buy a new fridge. You liked it, though. It might be red, it might have daisies on it, but you were too used to it. "How much longer ya gonna look for sugar?" Kyle asked rhetorically, leaning against the doorjamb and watching you search the drawers for a rag. "Come on," he walked over to you, putting his arm around your shoulders to ward off all the fuss. Kyle glanced first at the refrigerator and then at the puddle that had spread beneath it. "That thing was barely hanging on. I'll walk ya out, and then I'll clean this place up."

Something was pressing against your shoulders. It clearly wasn't Kyle's hands. They might have looked massive, but everyone close to him knew how gentle the man could be.

The door creaked open on the second floor. "Please don't go," a pleading voice made your heart clench. "Ya're not ready yet, ya've had too little practice," came the sound of footsteps - some hurried, others hesitant.

Everything fell into place when the two persons finally came down - Megumi and Daniel. She grabbed his sleeve, asking him to stop, but he didn't even look in her direction. Yanking his arm out of her weak grip, he stood beside you. "Y/N," the girl pleaded. "Please tell him he's not ready."

"But I already told him he's coming with me today."

"W-what?" she asked in a stammering voice, looking at you as if you'd plunged a dagger under her ribs. "No-no-no," she shook her head desperately. "Why didn't ya ask me?"

You raised an eyebrow uncomprehendingly. "Should I have?" you asked indifferently. "If ya'd given him a chance to talk to ya once, maybe ya would have found out sooner."

"Don't ya fucking dare put the blame on me!" she shouted, and the outburst made the tears she'd been holding back roll down her cheeks. "Ya owed it to me to tell me!" her ringing voice began to break. "Ya took my mother away from me," she muttered. "Y-ya took my father from me," she continued to squeeze the words out of her through all the pain and hardship. "Now ya want him too?"

"Dany, not in public-"

"Not in public?!" she yelled. "He could die out there and all ya're worried about is me telling about your sins?" she laughed bitterly, wiping her wet face with her hands.

"Megumi, go to the workroom," you said softly, nudging him toward the exit. The boy hesitated a few steps and stopped, but you weren't looking at him.

"Now ya wanna take my boyfriend too," it wasn't a question anymore. It was a statement. A weak, quiet assertion.

"Dany, please calm down," Kyle gently tried to reassure her, cautiously stepping closer to her. "Megumi's gonna be fine-"

"Back off," she pulled away sharply from Kyle.

"Should I mention that he's no longer your boyfriend?" if there had been thread in the room, you would have sewn your mouth shut. There weren't, though. "You dumped him, remember?"

Danielle's rage didn't disappear - it just became as quiet as the girl's tears. "I hate ya," the words were almost impossible to hear, but you understood everything from her barely moving lips. "I hate ya so much that not even your death will make me love ya again."

Before she turned away from you, you saw the helpless anger in her eyes. You watched in a daze as she went up to the second floor on weak legs and then disappeared from sight. "Dany," Kyle called out to her, forcing you out of your stupor.

You quickly followed her upstairs and sighed as you realized you hadn't made it in time - the door to her room had already slammed shut. You banged on it with all your might. "Dany, open up!" instead of the usual words or silence, you were met with a ragged sob. You and Kyle looked over at each other anxiously. "Danielle!" you groaned again. "If you don't open it, I'm gonna kick the fucking door down!" you warned.

Your eyes blurred as her sobs subsided.

There was a rustle of sheets followed by quiet footsteps. The lock of the door clicked.

You were greeted by your loved one's face, but it was very different from the one you'd seen in the kitchen. No more anger, no more rage - just disheveled blond hair, red puffy eyelids, and grief. "Dany, I-"

You were interrupted by your own phone, and you almost whimpered in frustration. You glanced at the screen, and the evening's call from that person didn't bode well. It was Rachel.

"Answer it," she said weakly. "It must be very important," you didn't get a word out before she closed the door quietly in your face. Kyle turned the knob with a barely perceptible movement to leave a small gap.

You pressed the screen with force, and only a miracle saved it from cracking. "Speak," you snapped into the phone.

"Ah- H-hey," even if Rachel hadn't stuttered, you'd have realized she was drunk. "I can't re- relocate. I can't catch a cab either. Get me out of here," she whined.

"Okay, Kyle will pick you up-"

"No!" she yelled into the phone. "If ya don't get me out of there, I swear ya will be no longer my fucking sister," Rachel hissed.

"Rach, I've got a raid-"

"I'm supposed to care about that?" she hiccupped angrily. "Kyle always has to do everything for ya, doesn't he? Kyle this, Kyle that- Hey! Hey, asshole!," she was still yelling, but her voice was muffled. "Ya blind? No? Then maybe I'm nothing to ya?"

You and Kyle looked at each other grimly - even from here, your brother could hear the mayhem going on at the other end of the phone. The crack of wood, broken glass, shouts, muffled thuds - you squinted your eyes at every sound. "Hey," Rachel's voice was back to ringing, distinct and drunken. "Anyway, pick me up already. I rarely see ya, I feel like I don't even have a sister."

You didn't get a chance to ask where she was. Rachel just dropped the call. "What kinda day is this," you whispered in a broken, shaky whisper, rubbing your hot forehead with the palm of your hand, still staring at the phone screen.

Kyle wrapped his fingers around your chin, forcing you to look up at him. "Go," he ordered, trying to ignore your glistening eyes. "It's okay, just go get Rachel."

"But what about-"

"Today was supposed to be my shift anyway," he reminded you, hugging you. "Ya'll just go after me."

"Alright, then tell Megumi we'll be leaving in three days," you nodded briefly, snuggling up to him.

"Nah, he's waited long enough," he laughed. "I can't stand the even more sullen face he has now," feeling you clinging to his t-shirt, he tried to reassure you as best he could and knew how. He pulled you even tighter against him and burrowed into your hair. "It's been so long," he whispered. "It's high time ya learned to believe in us."

"Okay," you exhaled raggedly, unable to tear yourself away from your brother. "Take care of him. Take care of yourself, too. Please," the glimpse of black streaks creeping up your fingers made you pull away from him. Kyle kissed your forehead briefly, but you felt his lips linger on your skin a little longer than usual.

You took a couple steps away from him, and after taking another look at him, you turned around and headed for the stairs. "Y/N?" he called out to you.

You were so expecting it that you turned to him again without thinking. "Yes?" you asked with hope in your voice.

He winked slyly. "See ya," he waved goodbye, and you caught the glint of his silver bracelet.

"See ya," you giggled, waving back at him.  

As you walked away, you tried to keep a confident gait, but some thing pressed on your shoulders again.

Half the bar was trashed, no customers, only one redheaded girl sitting on a stool with her head on the table, either asleep or unconscious. After leaving Kyle, you called her a dozen times, and on the millionth call, you were swearing at everyone and everything. After you'd gotten her on the phone through your despair, you'd gotten her address, and there you were, standing there, among the shards of mugs and chips from tables and chairs.

Under the wary gaze of the man in the black shirt, you walked over to Rachel and shook her by the shoulder. She mumbled inarticulately. "Do you know her?" he asked sternly.

"Yeah," you replied indifferently, still trying to rouse your sister.

"All right," said the manager. "Then I'm calling the police," he informed.

"Please don't get the police," you begged resignedly. "I'll pay for everything, just... Really, let's not do that. I'll leave you a phone number," you said, picking up one of the surviving napkins from the table and turning around to face the man. "Do you have a pen?"

He looked at you incredulously from head to toe, but your earrings seemed to convince him. He handed you a pen, and you quickly wrote your number on a napkin. "Here," you held out the phone number to him. "You can check it out."

Done. He dialed the number you had written, and your phone rang. "I'll send you the bill," the manager said formally. "Now get her out of here before she trashes the surviving half of the bar."

"Yeah, just...," you swallowed uncertainly. "I'll just bring her to her senses," the manager nodded, but didn't move. When you looked at your sister again, rage came over you, but remembering that you were in a public place, you immediately nipped it in the bud.

Grabbing Rachel by the scruff of her neck, you dragged her into the restroom. She struggled sluggishly and mumbled something, but you paid no attention. Kicking open the door, you tossed her right into the sink. "Did ya have fun, bitch?" with helplessness, your voice started to break again. You opened the faucet, and to your delight, ice-cold water came out of it.

You held Rachel's hair with your hand and tried to keep her head close to the stream, otherwise she'd just slide to the floor; with your other hand you scooped up the water and smeared it right over her drunken red face. "Do ya even remember ya have a son? Why aren't ya at his place?" you began to gasp along with her - she from the water, you from despair.

"I can't see him-" she stammered and choked, and you wondered if it was really the alcohol, the water, or her own words. "I-I'm gonna throw up," she practically forced the words out of her, choking on the water.

Whimpering, you pulled her hair and dragged her straight to the toilet stall. As soon as her head was bent over the toilet, everything started coming out of her. She coughed and spit, and you held her unruly hair back, even though the only thing you wanted to do right now was drown her in her own vomit. "Are ya having fun now? Do ya like living like this?"

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, and the sounds of vomiting were heard again. "I... I won't do it again."

You bit your lip, almost tearing it off - how many times had you heard those words, and there was no truth to them, like wandering through a dark forest without a light, looking for a path. It was the same thing over and over again. "Wait here," you said, not sure why - she couldn't have disappeared in her condition.

Leaping out of the restroom and grabbing the first whole glass you could find, you went back in and filled it with water. "Drink," you commanded, shoving the glass under your sister's nose.

"I don't wanna," she tried to push your hand away weakly.

"I said drink," you grabbed her hair again, forcing her face up. As the water poured into her open mouth, Rachel leaned over the toilet again, choking.

They didn't want to leave you alone, the ringing of the phone hit your ears again, making you grit your teeth. "Speak."

"Young lady, what kinda tone is that?" resented Frank. Your insides dropped as you felt Rachel was about to throw up again.

"Sorry, Frank, I didn't see who was calling," you said absently, turning away and putting the receiver away from the source of the noise. "Look, lemme call ya back in an hour, 'kay? We're just at the bar with Rachel, it's not really convenient to talk right now."

"One hour," the man snorted angrily and hung up.

"Thanks," Rach mumbled and as you watched this, you slid down the wall, falling to the cold tile. Looking at her sweaty face and the wet red strands sticking to it, you were furious that you couldn't do anything about it. But if you couldn't do anything about it, then why were you even bothering with it? "I kinda feel better," she mumbled more clearly already, wiping her lips. "Let's go home."

Sighing, you grabbed her under the armpits, forcing her to stand. Rachel leaned on you like a personal prop, and you waddled away from the bar to the judgmental stares. When you reached the alley, you pulled your sister tighter against you.

"Relocate."  

You fell onto the soft bed in your sister's room just as you'd been in the alley a second ago - tired, in dirty clothes and shoes. When you sensed something wrong, you moved Rach to the edge of the bed and rolled her onto her side, and went to the bathroom to get a basin, pour some water into a glass, and grab some micellar water.

Before Rachel threw up again, you managed to put the basin on the floor. Putting everything else on the nightstand, you began to undress her. Clumsily pulling off her sneakers, you couldn't lift her torso to pull down her pants. "Help me already," you groaned, tugging at her legs.

Grumbling to herself, Rachel lifted her hips, and you yanked off her jeans with. You realized you didn't have the energy for outerwear - let her sleep like that. Rach was still stirring restlessly, apparently never having fallen into slumber.

You sat down next to her, and after soaking a cotton ball in micellar water, you began to wash off her makeup. "Ya mad?" she asked weakly.

"Not really," you lied, trying not to take the anger out on her face.

You were smearing mascara and eyeliner all over her cheeks, and no one really knew how much absorbent cotton and micellar water it took you to wash it all off. Rachel was already breathing normally, though she was lying in an uncomfortable position - her right arm oddly bent over her face. But she seemed to be asleep.

You rolled her onto her side again, and praying that she would stay that way until morning and not choke on her own vomit, tried to crawl quietly off the bed. "Don't go," she begged quietly, grabbing at your sweater. "Lie with me for a while."

"Okay," you gave in to her helpless pleas and gently lay down on the other side of the bed.

Who knows how much strength it took for her to turn around to face you? "I miss ya," she sobbed.

You realized she wasn't talking to you at all. "I know. Go back to sleep."

There was nothing left in the room but your breathing. As she fell asleep, you knew that tomorrow Rachel would have a headache, and she would snap at everyone she met. You watched her face sink deeper and deeper into the pillow, her occasional smacking of her lips, her frown, and reassured yourself that maybe she was dreaming something good this time.

The warning signs were scattered around the kitchen. To be more precise, they were sitting there. Director Yaga stared in amazement at you coming down from the second floor, for he had been informed of your absence. "Mr. Director," you greeted him in a surprised but tired manner, glancing around at the others. There was Shoko, standing at the open window, blowing cigarette smoke, Yuji, who didn't look up from his desk, and Megumi, who had finally returned, alive and well. "Back?" you asked the boy, grinning approvingly. "Good. Go rest."

You probably said it to yourself - you were barely thinking. Automatically shuffling your feet, you headed for the workshop. "Y/N," a distressed voice stopped you.

Your face contorted instantly. Your eyes squeezed shut on their own and your lips pressed into a thin line against your will. 'Don't ya do this to me,' you begged silently someone who wasn't in this room.

Wiping the pain from your face with your hand, you took the only acceptable emotion you could muster. Benevolence. You turned around, and walking over to the table and standing in front of Megumi, you continued to pretend that everything was fine. "What is it?"

You refused to see the fear in Itadori's eyes, but you couldn't help but notice the fear in the black-haired boy's young features. Maybe if you hadn't looked so straight ahead, maybe if you'd known to look away, you wouldn't have seen the guilt.

Megumi refused to look you in the eyes - he was drilling a point near your neck, hiding his hands under the table. "I...," he began, but a gasp knotted his throat, and he clenched his teeth with such force that his tense jaw showed through his skin. "I'm... I'm- I'm so sorry," let it be his words - he was holding it together just fine, unlike Itadori. As soon as Megumi finished speaking, tears began to stream down Yuji's cheeks. It felt like molten metal had been poured into your lungs instead of air. It filled you from the inside out, rising higher and higher, coming up to your throat. "It's my fault," he admitted, reaching his hand out from under the table and handing you a silver bracelet.

You wanted to ask the boy a stupid but sincere question - whose bracelet was it? But as soon as you took it in your hand, you already knew the answer, for the size of the jewelry left no doubt as to who had once owned it.

"What...," you stammered, feeling the jewelry in your hands. It was warm, almost hot - apparently, Megumi had warmed it in his hands for a long time. "What happened?"

"Jonah brought more people to evacuate," the boy began in a trembling voice. "Kyle said we couldn't get everyone out at once. I insisted, though. I promised them I'd get them out," his eyes finally glistened, but not a single tear still fell. "I said I could take them out, but Kyle warned me that I couldn't take out six at a time. Then the people started... Th-they... They begged, begged me to take them out right now...," he sobbed, pressing himself harder against the back of the chair and lowering his gaze, hiding his face in his hand. "I convinced Kyle that I could do it. I really felt it," the boy pleaded, raising wet eyes to you. "He went to walk us to the rift, except...," he breathed intermittently and shallowly, swallowing thick saliva. "When we were close to the rift, it turned out they weren't people at all," he looked up at you, making sure you understood what he meant. "I wanted to stay, but he pushed me away, and I think I ripped it off him at that point," he glanced at the bracelet in your hands, licking his chapped lips. "First he pushed me away, then relocated me closer to the rift, and then I think he relocate himself, but...," stingy tears spilled from his eyes like begging atonement. "Before I went in, I turned around. They- They torn him ap-"

"I got it," you interrupted without listening to the rest of the story.

It was as if all the water had evaporated from your body - it was so dry it was hard to move your limbs, your eyes refused to blink, saliva pooled in your mouth as if you'd lost all your basic reflexes. "There's nothing ya can do now. Go to bed," you said blankly. Your gaze fell on the pack of cigarettes that was peering through the white robe of Shoko, who had approached you. Ieiri silently reached into the pocket, pulled out a cigarette and held it out to you, paired with a lighter. "Thanks."

It was a long walk to the window, for the floor underfoot was not parquet, but viscous glue. The phone rang for the umpteenth time, but you weren't angry or annoyed. You didn't care. That's what you thought, until you saw the name of the caller.

It was Frank.

You took a cigarette in your teeth and lit it, but you hesitated before answering the phone, your numb hands deliberately delaying the moment. The phone screen went out, but immediately lit up again. "Hey, Frank."

"It's been well over an hour," he sighed. "If ya can't call me back, at least send me a text so I don't worry-"

"Frank."

"Don't interrupt me, that's not what I taught ya," he frowned, reminding you of childhood admonitions. "How's Rachel doing? Have ya been watching her?"

"Frank," you tried again.

"Did she drink a lot?" the agitated man persisted. "She did something wrong, didn't she?"

"Frank!" you shouted into the phone. The silence was so empty and impersonal, only the waves crashing against the rocks reminded you what kind of world you were in. You took a puff for the first time in a long time. Your head was spinning, but you remained standing at the open panoramic window. "Kyle, he's... He's dead."

When you said it aloud, you brought it to life, bringing chaos not only to your soul, but to the souls of others as well. There was a long silence, and the sound of the waves began to subside along with the beating of the heart. It would have been better if Frank had never spoken, for instead of his words you heard only something mechanical, and the ringing in your ears made it impossible to make out what was said - past, future, anguish, joys, sorrows and moments of happiness - all merged together and seemed to sink into the bay before your eyes.

You threw away the burnt cigarette and pulled the silver bracelet out of your pocket; it was cool as it lost its warmth. There was no blood on it, no pieces of skin. You put it to your lips, hoping to feel Kyle again. It was no use. The jewelry gave off only your warmth.

You didn't immediately realize that Frank had gone silent. 'Yeah, okay,' you said on automatic. You seemed to hear the words 'Hopetown', 'funeral', 'two days'. Were 'two days' accurate? Did Frank say three? Did he say anything at all?

Before you could come to your senses and have time to ask again, Frank hung up. "Y/N," Principal Yaga's worried voice came from behind you. "Is there anything we can do for you?"

You lost your brother, and you are unlikely to ever see again those people who were first gifted with hope and then left in the void. "Yeah," you replied coldly, turning to look at those present. You were still desperately pressing the jewelry to your lips. "Your job."

Seeing the principal nod briefly, you walked past heading for the workroom, throwing all Kyle's hopes, plans, dreams, and silver bracelet into the trashcan.  

next ⊳

[tbhsohn]

P1Harmony ~ Their Favorite Moments Together

~ P1Harmony Hyung Line x gn!reader

~ Genre: Fluff, and like a teeny weeny bit of angst in Jiungs

A/N - I’m not quite sure if i’m going to like this format too much, but we’ll figure it out. I also haven’t written in forevverrrr so i gotta get my mojo back.

~ Keeho :)

In the first few months you two had been dating, Keeho was always taking you to new places. He would always do research and pay close attention to activities you talked about enjoying; even if just a brief mention.

When he got a few days off from schedules, he remembered a mini golf place you two had passed a few weeks prior. He was determined to make the date a a surprise however, and asked Intak and Jiung for help. Jiung was responsible for helping Keeho plan, and Intak was instructed to keep you busy for atleast 2 hours so Keeho could reserve the place so it could be private.

Intak had texted you asking if you were busy for a couple hours in the afternoon, you agreed to hang out and told Keeho you’d be busy for a little while. As far as he knew, his plan was working out. Intak decided to take you to a nearby arcade, hoping it would keep you from finding out about Keehos “Super Secret” plan.

After about an hour and $60 wasted on the claw machines, Intak got a text that the place was reserved and he could bring you over. “Are you ready to head out, Y/N?” “Yeah let’s go, if i waste anymore money i might lose my temper” You both laughed an headed out. Intak headed towards the mini golf spot, leaving you confused. “Where are we going now?”

“Don’t worry about it, you’ll see.” He smiled, and you looked at him a little weird in return. He pulled into the parking lot, which in return looked empty and a little sketchy. “Intak what are we doing here?” You questioned. He had a mischievous smile and told you that it was a surprise.

Stepping out of the car you were met with Keeho standing behind one of the storage sheds holding to mini golf clubs with a very very proud smile. “I remembered you said this place looked cute a couple of weeks ago, i figured it would make a cute date.” He was very clearly shy, and that made your heart flutter.

“You’re too sweet Steph.” You leaned in to leave a kiss on his cheek. “Thanks for keeping them busy for a little bit Intak.” Keeho smiled, and handed you your club. “No problem dude. You two have fun.” Intak left with Jiung and you two had the place to yourself besides a few employees.

After finishing the course you two retreated back to his car. “How was your time at the arcade?” He questioned. You ears turned red and you got slightly embarrassed. “I spent all my cash trying to win a stuffed cat.” You sheepishly admitted. He turned his head towards you and laughed. “I take it you didn’t win it?” He asked.

“Didn’t even get close once.”

~ Theo <3

Theo never really considered himself one to faithfully enjoy baking, or cooking for that matter. But it seemed whenever you were bored, you had to look up a new recipe of some sort, and destroy the kitchen while making it.

Theo sat watching you intently from the couch, struggling to measure out the right amount of flour for a cake you had seen on the internet. Repeated the same process of measuring it, dumping it back into the bag it came from, and getting frustrated cause in your mind it looked like too much.

Theo rise from his spot on the couch and made his way over to you. “Would you like some help?” He chuckled at your clearly distressed state. The ingredients scattered all over the counter, and the textures of whatever you had been mixing all over you, made for a very stressed you. Theo took notice and pulled you into a hug, expecting you to either cry, or get extremely mad at the situation before you.

“I’ve never had this much trouble before.” You despaired claim was muffled by his hoodie, but he could tell it was really taking effect on you. “Sit at the counter, and i’ll take over. Let’s see the recipe.” His caring tone and smile never faltered. You handed him your phone and went to go sit down. He washed his hands and went to take his place where you previously stood. He got to work and soon enough he had finished what you thought was going to be a disaster.

Pulling the cake from the oven. Theo stood proudly in front of you, displaying the cake like it was the best thing he had accomplished. Your mouth was agape as Theo, your non chef Theo, made a cake that looked (almost) like it was made by a professional. “You’re ridiculous.” You smiled at him, and his creation. “I’m gonna make you do all the baking for me now.” You continued.

“Maybe you just need to grow a little more patience.” He returned.

~ Jiung :D

You knew from the moment you and Jiung had started dating, that he could become very dedicated to his work. He was a perfectionist in most aspects, and could tire out very quickly if he didn’t give himself a break.

You conversation over text had came to a sudden halt with Jiung, after an all day conversation about things you two hadn’t caught up on in a while, he stopped responding. You knew he had been at the company most of the day, and figured he just got a little caught up with something. A couple hours had passed and you still got no response from him. You called him a couple times since it was getting late, and you wondered if he was going to make it home for dinner.

You opted to just bring him some food that you had made, instead of staying up waiting. After packing up the food and making your way over there, you walked into his studio; and we’re met with a sleeping Jiung. Slouched over on top of his keyboard, and lightly snoring. You sat the food on his desk and lightly shook him awake. Once he adjusted to his surroundings and noticed it was you, his gaze softened. “Why are you here?” He asked. “I figured you fell asleep and I wanted you to get some food before i went to bed.” He pulled you in for a hug and sighed. “I love you lots.” He smiled into your torso.

“I get worried about you sometimes. You never rest.” Your hand went to his hair to run through it. “I never have the time. I wanna make sure things are perfect so I don’t have to come back and do them again.” He voice got quieter and you knew he was getting exhausted. “We’ll talk about it more later. Eat up so we can go home and you can rest. You can finish your work tomorrow, love.” Jiung didn’t fight back, he was too tired to protest; and deep down he knew you were right.

“You’re too good to me.” He smiled

[cas-skz]

SUNDAY BAKING

Your husband keeps distracting you while you bake and things heat up in the kitchen

| non idol au | married au |

18+plz&thnx!! MDNI

Warnings: lots of smut. choking, flip from dom & sub (m &f) rope play. chocking. unprotected sex. creampie. pet names (good boy, boss, princess). pregnancy mentions.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

writers note: ok but imagine being newly married and he can’t keep his hands off you. thats where this came from.

Enjoy cas xx

“Oh, I’m being a pain?” Wooyoung laughed, eyeing you up from behind the news paper he was reading.

“Yes. I just need you to tell me which is better, the vanilla raspberry cake or the chocolate coconut cake. They can’t tie!” You groan, poking at the two pieces of cake on the counter.

You had spent the last few weeks working on a cake for your best friends birthday, and getting the right flavour down was becoming a struggle.

Woo joined you at the counter, taking a couple more bites of each cake before tapping the fork off his chin in thought.

“Well…” you asked eagerly, chewing at your lip.

“Just like you, they are both perfect.” Woo kissed you lips gently to stop you from puncturing a hole through your lip. “But I like the chocolate coconut more.”

You patted his chest a few times, “was that so hard.”

Woo rolled his eyes at you, spinning around to wrap his arms around your waist, his semi firm cock pressed against your ass. “It was torture.” He said into your ear, his warm breath and closeness giving you goosebumps.

You felt your clit twitch with excitement as his lips met with your neck, sucking and nipping at the skin.

“No. No! I need to get this done.” You whined, shoving him back gently.

Woo pulled you with him as he sat back on the chair, setting you on his lip as his lips found yours. His hand ran up your thigh, under your Panama shorts. “I can be quick.”

You laughed again his lips, “don’t make me do it.” You say, placing another kiss on his lips before jumping off his lap.

He was right behind you, taking his previous position behind you, his hips grinding into you. “What if I want you too?”

You tried to ignore him and start the cake batters, but he wouldn’t peel himself off. His lips worked at your neck, sucking and biting the skin hard enough to leave a couple of hickies.

His hand ran over your clothes clit, adding a few little rubs. “Woo!” You groaned in frustration, accidentally dumping in an extra cup of flour.

You peeled him off you again, pointing towards the chair. “Down.” You ordered, quickly crawling up to the cub boards above the fridge and grabbing some black rope.

Woo rolled his eyes, a small smile pulling at his lips. “What? I wasn’t that bad.” He protested, though his body knew exactly where to go.

“Messed up the recipe though.” You said, sticking your tongue out at him as you tied his wrists through the back of the chair.

You smirked down at him, undoing the zipper and button of his pants. “So you don’t get too uncomfortable.” Being the tease you were, you tossed off your pj shorts, exposing your lower half.

“Now. Be a good boy and don’t make me have to hide that pretty little mouth of yours.”

You placed a kiss on his lips, turning to go back to your baking. You quickly fixed the mistake that happened, smiling to yourself as it was something so little to get cranky about, but you liked driving him crazy.

You made sure to give him a little show as you gathered and added ingredients, “shoot, if only you weren’t tied up. I need something from way up there.” You jokingly pout, clearing a spot so you could climb up.

Woo made a quiet whining sound as you spread your legs apart, grabbing what you needed before pretending to drop it. “Oops.” You say, leaning forward, your wet pussy on display for him.

You looked back at him, wiggling your butt a bit. “Something wrong babe?”

He shook his head no, but pointed to pants. “Can I get rid of these?” He asks, “please.”

You slid off the counter, slowly strutting to Woo. “What? Didn’t undo them enough the first time?” You tilt your head to one side, pushing your tongue into your cheek before helping tug his pants to his ankles so he could kick them off. “Now, no more out of you.”

It was torture for you to keep teasing him. Your pussy had been begging to be filled all morning, but you were to busy with the test cakes.

You finished up quickly and divided the batter before popping them in the oven, your cunt on full display again. You put on the timer and threw off your apron, leaving you in just a small lace bralette.

“See baby, was that so hard?” You ask as you turn your attention to Woo, who’s cock stood at attention, pre cum leaking from the tip.

Woo’s cock twitched as you climbed onto his lap. Before you sat, you took his cock in your hand and slowly pushed it inside you, a soft moan escaping both your lips.

You settled in his lap, clenching your warm walls around his thick length. “Does my good boy deserve to get fucked?” You question, grinding your hips ever so slowly. “Or should I just sit here until the cakes are done?”

You couldn’t help yourself as your body started to bounce a bit, feeling finally somewhat satisfied.

Woo let out a soft groan, his wrists tugging at the ropes on the chair as you slowly came to a stop, locking eyes with him. “I guess that’s up to you baby girl.” He hummed, smirking up at you. “Seems like you don’t want to wait.”

And you didn’t. Having him just inside you felt so good, but you wanted more. His hips thrusted up, bringing you out of thought as he hit your g-spot. Your hand wrapped around his neck, giving a gentle squeeze. “Be good.” You ordered, starting to bounce your hips.

Your hands slid to the back of his neck as you pressed your lips into his, kissing roughly. You switched between different rhythmic motions. You rose your body and teased the tip of his cock, your ass shaking as Woo cursed your name.

“Such a good boy.” You whispered, lowering yourself back down as you felt your peak rapidly approaching. You leaned back a bit as you hit top speed, one of your hands digging into his chest as you kept your eyes on him.

Your legs started to shake as your peak hit, your walls clenching tightly around Woo’s cock. “Need…to cum.” He moaned, his body stiffening against the chair.

You leaned in close, his cock hitting perfectly as you kept a fast pace. “Cum with me.” You moaned, leaning against his chest as his lips found yours, kissing you deeply as your hips came to a stop and Woo emptied his load.

Woo thrusted a few last times, your contracting walls hugging tightly as his twitching cock as you peaked together. “Don’t stop princess. You feel too good.” He moaned.

The pet name made you flip into little mode, a small whine escaping your lips as you buried your face in his neck. You leaned down a bit to pull the knot from rope holding Woo’s arms back.

He immediately took control, standing you both up and bending you over the table. He slapped your ass a few times before thrusting back into you, the sensation making you grip the table edge.

He thrusted deeply a few times, pulling out the combined juices from inside you. Woo balled his hand in your hair, guiding you to the ground as he shoved his length in your mouth, which you automatically started to suck.

“Pretty princess likes to be the boss sometimes, doesn’t she?” He asked, shoving himself inside your mouth until you gagged.

With his hand still in your hair, he positioned you back over the table, grabbing one of your arms and holding it behind you as he easily slid into your warmth.

He slammed hard a few times, making you squeeze your eyes shut. Woo leaned over you, making sure your arm wasn’t getting hurt as he started to thrust quickly, his lips right by your ear. “Who’s really in charge?”

You moaned and cursed loudly, your breathing fast and laboured, the whole table shook underneath you from the force he was using. You hit your second orgasm, much more intense than the first.

“Who’s the boss princess?” He asked, his powerful thrusts not letting up.

“You are.”

“Louder!”

“You are! You’re the boss!”

Woo slammed deep inside you as his cock started to twitch, filling you again with his pearly white cum. He slowly pulled out, a hiss and moan erupting from both of you.

“Fuck…” You moan, your body twitching as you felt Woo push the leaking cum back inside you. He teased your hole a few more times before slapping your ass hard.

“Cakes are done.” He smirked as the timer went off.

You peeled yourself off the table, giving him a quick kiss before washing your hands and pulling the cakes out.

Woo creeped up behind you, wrapping his arms around you and cupping your boobs. “Gotta keep these fellas safe.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed, carefully taking the cakes out of the pans and placing them on cooling racks. “Perfect. Now I just need to wait for them to cool.”

Woo started playing with both your nipples, flicking and tugging on them from behind. “Shower? Gotta get you all cleaned up.”

You shook your head, pulling him along with you as you headed to the bathroom. “Hot bath.”

“With bubbles?” Woo chuckled

“Obviously!”

Woo filled the bathtub, adding a few different things from your basket of lush products. He climbed in and waited as you cleaned yourself up a bit, using a baby wipe to clean off your privates.

“Hey! Those are my kids your wiping away!”

You laughed, shaking your head as you looked over at Woo, who had made a beard with the bubbles.

“The father of my children.”

“You love me.”

“Yes I do, I love you very much.” You smiled, sitting down in the tub, tucked tightly in Woo’s arms.

“I love you too.” He said, pressing a kiss on the side of your temple.