#this is just one of my favorite clips i think we need to pass it around tumblr again

[blood-gulch]

it's that time of the year again

[thefreakandthehair]

mistletoe.

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles | prompts: mistletoe | wc: 999 | rating: teen & up | tags: alternate universe- no upside down, alternate universe- flower shop au, eddie pov, eddie munson has a crush on steve harrington, confident!steve harrington, fluff, getting together, first kiss, background buckingham mention

It’s chaos. 

Clippings, and rogue petals, and ribbons that still need to be tied into bows as far as the eye can see. Long tables lined with crinkling plastic to protect the aged wood take up the center of the room, and somewhere off in the distance, Eddie can hear Chrissy on the phone with what sounds like a disgruntled, last-minute customer. 

“... Sir, it’s December. Most of our poinsettias have been reserved for weeks. We have two left that we can give you. You can have them, or you can—”

Eddie’s sure Chrissy’s about to kindly tell the phone stranger to go fuck himself and he couldn’t be prouder of how far she’s come, really, but he loses the thread on the conversation when Steve bustles in from the back.

“How many carnations does one middle school Winter Wonderland dance need, anyways? Are there even this many kids in the town?” In his warm, forest green jacket and black beanie with wind-flushed cheeks and rosy nose, Steve exhales and sets the box of carnations down on the counter. 

“Enough to pay the rent this month with carnations alone, apparently,” Eddie jokes, tapping Steve’s jean-clad shin with the toe of his boot. “We’ll be here all night doing these ribbons, won’t we?”

He tries to make it sound like a chore, like something he hasn’t been looking forward to since Chrissy told them she had a date and couldn’t stay. Any amount of alone time with Steve is welcome, even if it means tying tiny bows on small carnations and pricking his finger a hundred times with the stupid little pins. 

“Probably, yeah,” Steve shrugs with a smile. “It’s not so bad though, right?” 

“Not at all.” Eddie bites the inside of his cheek to keep from beaming. 

When Chrissy wraps up her part— invoices, confirmations, and all of the paperwork shit that Eddie and Steve are better off leaving to Chrissy— she practically skips out of the office with a wave and a smirk. 

“You do know that if she and Robin hit it off, this is gonna be a regular thing, right?” Eddie jokes, hoisting himself up to sit on one of the tables and grabbing a ribbon to wrap around another flower. 

“Robin hasn’t stopped talking about Chrissy for months. This is going to be our life, Ed. Mark my words.” Steve laughs with Eddie’s favorite crooked smile, the one that only ever seems to be targeted at him. 

He tries not to let Steve’s phrasing dig its claws too deep into his lovestruck brain, but our life wiggles its way in regardless. 

Eddie looks around and takes in all of the fine details— a half-eaten bag of plain chips, two cans of coke, carnations and ribbons strewn about in somewhat orderly piles. Chrissy left the radio on when she left, the station alternating between the top hits and classic holiday songs, and Steve bobs his head to Wham!’s Last Christmas. 

This could be their life; not just the tumultuous riptide of highs and lows, but all of the mundane minutiae in between. 

Eddie and Steve. 

EddieandSteve. 

“You okay? Stab your thumb again?” Steve asks, tearing Eddie from his reverie. 

“Yes, and actually, yes,” Eddie laughs, breathy through his nose, and wipes his thumb on his jeans. Before Steve can grab his hand and check him over, and probably push Eddie over the edge into doing something incredibly fucking stupid in the process, he brushes it off. “It’s fine. Let's get these bitches done.”

Hours pass, quickly and comfortably, and they eventually tie their last ribbon. 

“We did it, Jesus H. Christ,” Eddie celebrates, hopping off of the table and tossing the last carnation into the box. “Do you still have skin on your fingers? I don’t think I have fingerprints anymore.” 

“Now would be the time to go commit some crimes,” Steve snorts, his nose wrinkling, and Eddie wants to kiss him right on the mouth. “Before you head out though, I uh, I think we forgot one. Close your eyes for a second.” 

“What?” 

“Just close your eyes? Please?”

Eddie does as Steve asks because he’s helpless to not, his brows knitting together in confusion because closed eyes. He hears rustling and the sound of scissors snipping ribbon. What’s so special about this carnation? What’s so secretive that Eddie has to close his eyes and miss valuable alone time with Steve? Doesn’t Steve get it? Every second with his eyes closed are seconds he doesn’t get to stare. 

Steve’s stool slides against the tile floor, scraping as Eddie feels Steve standing closer. Close enough that he can feel Steve’s breath against him when he says, “Okay, open your eyes.”

In front of him is Steve Harrington, his favorite smile, and wide, hesitant eyes holding a hastily tied together bundle of mistletoe just above their heads. 

“I know it’s not Christmas yet or anything, but I couldn’t wait.” 

“You’re not fucking with me?” Eddie asks, heart clattering in his chest as hope gouges its way out of its deepest recesses. 

“Definitely not. I really like you, maybe more, and I know I didn’t have to wait for some big moment but tonight, just the two of us, it felt right. If I’m wrong, I’ll chuck this in the garbage and we can never bring it up again but—”

Eddie launches himself at Steve, both arms wrapping around Steve’s neck. 

Maybe he should’ve taken it slower— maybe their first kiss should’ve been patient, tender— but he’ll have other opportunities to show him the softness he deserves. Instead, Eddie kisses Steve just like he’s fallen in love with him: spontaneously, impulsively, urgently. Steve drops the thicket of branches and pulls him in closer, one hand balling the edge of Eddie’s shirt up in a fist by his hip and the other cupping the back of Eddie’s head, meeting his intensity wordlessly. 

Through the murky daze of Steve’s lips against his, Eddie hopes that this is their life. 

[lennythereviewer]

Theory: Jax is NOT a self-aware NPC nor is he actually trapped in the circus: He's a hacker who can leave at any time.

Even what little we got in terms of Jax content in episode 3 has been reinforcing a belief I've had for awhile, and in fact Jax's brief standout moment in ep 3 added a new wrinkle to my thought: That he's not some NPC who gained sentience and slipped in with the humans, he's actually a hacker who backdoored his way into the Digital Circus, and he's not trapped there.

Jax seems to have an affinity for keys and getting into places he shouldn't belong. Twice now he's done this thing of spinning a key on his finger while boasting about it. He mentions in episode 1 that "I got keys to everywhere" and in episode 2 he swiped the key to the kingdom from Ragatha, and the candy monster calls him a "Master of Unlocking Things" which I think could be genuinely some subtle foreshadowing. A hacker would potentially be able to do something like clip out of bounds, find security keys, crack passwords, and so on and so forth. All he's done with this however is seemingly just pull pranks and leave things in peoples rooms; he's a troll.

We've all speculated about the mysterious pin-back covers: The official pin merch line showing everyone's rooms except for Jaxs, which only shows his door and peeks of The Void tearing through the wall. We're not privvy to what's in Jaxs room if he even has one at all. His room door might actually be his own sort of exit door since he's not trapped. For him it's like loading into a VRChat server and he can log off any time he wants, he's just always sure to be there when everyone else is active so no one notices.

A small stupid thing but, "Jax" is not too far off from "Hax"

Okay, so if Jax is a hacker who can come and go as he pleases, a question is why? Why does he keep coming back to torment everyone around him? His brief gag in Episode 3 I think filled in the blanks for that: He's not just a hacker, he's a streamer and he's broadcasting everything that's happening in the Digital Circus to a watching audience.

He's the one character who has consistently broken the fourth wall in all three episodes so far, the first two episodes were him mugging to the camera and giving comical shrugs and knowing glances to the viewer, but in this episode he outright addresses the audience while seemingly talking to no one to the POV of the other circus members. He's acknowledging his chat. Plus in merch promotion Jax has openly acknowledged his IRL popularity, another form of fourth-wall-breaking.

This may also explain his overall behavior; the reason he's always causing problems on purpose or forcing the group to go on the most dangerous path or take the most 'exciting' option in their adventures: It makes for a good show. Audiences don't want some stupid silly candyland fantasy! They want car chases and explosions! They want to see what wacky things happen to the other circus members! The show must go on! Jax is chasing content, and when he can't get that content it upsets him like the end of Episode 2. Maybe that ties into his self-worth, maybe he needs that sort of validation from his chat and audience.

This angle also adds a bit of a meta angle to the entire series: We the viewer also tune in to watch our favorite circus buddies suffer through whatever zany adventure Caine cooked up. Are we any better than Jax's livestream audience who tune in to see how they're tormented by Caine this week? Heck maybe in-universe we're the audience Jax is playing to! We too want to see them sweat and suffer to get that sweet character growth so are we part of the problem?

Time will tell whether this comes to pass and whether or not I'm overthinking this, but I've had this thought for awhile and only after this episode did the livestreamer angle come to mind.

[wildrangers]

Book Lovers // Quinn Hughes

Word Count: 5K

Summary: Quinn x fem OC author

Content: prolonged meet cute, flirty banter, fluff. Truly, I saw the clip of Quinn sharing he's a reader and knew I had to write something based on that.

Quinn took a deep, contented breath as he perused the shelves before him. He had a rare day off and was doing one of his favorite fall activities: book shopping.

Normally, he just went to Chapters or Barnes, depending on what country he was in, but he’d decided to explore a new place. He’d been discussing books with Lauren, the new social media manager, and she’d ranted about how they and Amazon were “destroying local markets and harming author profits.” Most of her argument had gone over his head but he took away enough, so here he was at Thomas’ Tomes–the closest locally-owned book shop to his apartment. He figured that was as good a place to start as any and it certainly didn’t hurt that it was a block from his favorite coffee place. 

Which is how he found himself, pumpkin spiced latte in hand, soaking in the relaxing energy of the cozy shop. He’d already selected a few historical fiction novels and was scanning the mystery section he’d just entered. He pulled his phone out, scanning his notes app for the title Lauren had recommended. She’d said it was pretty gruesome but he figured he could handle it…probably.

“Can I help you?” a voice nearby asked, startling him. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. Are you sure a mystery book is a good idea?” 

His gaze rose to meet warm, golden brown eyes filled with amusement. “What do you mean?”

“It’s broad daylight in a public setting and you almost dropped your PSL because I greeted you.”

“You didn’t scare me, I was just in my own world” he argued, but felt his cheeks pinkening. She really had set off a fight or flight response just by doing her job.

“Of course” she replied and he couldn’t tell if he was being sensitive or if there was a teasing glint in her eyes. “My offer still stands.” 

“I’m sorry what?” he asked, confused and scrambling to keep up. 

“To help you find something…preferably a book. I don’t know how much help I’d be beyond that.” 

“Oh sure, yeah, thanks” he mumbled, setting his stack of books down on the table next to him so he could more easily show her his phone screen. “Someone recommended this book to me, do you have it in stock?”

He caught a whiff of something earthy and relaxing as she leaned closer, her eyes scanning the note. “Ah, yes we actually have a display over this way. Theo’s a local author.”

He picked up his items and followed her, moving much quicker than he anticipated having to to keep up as she weaved through the store. “Have you worked here a long time?” 

“My whole life essentially” she chuckled, throwing a grin over her shoulder. Just as she turned back, they passed a window that set her red hair aflame in the midday sun. 

“Oh, yeah? No labor laws then?” he teased, he hoped, successfully.

“I mean, I basically harassed my parents to let me stock shelves or talk to customers. Now I’m slightly less enthusiastic about inventory.” 

He laughed at her light tone, drawing to a stop as she did. “Wow, is this a series or something?” he asked, taking in the full display. 

“Well, the one your girlfriend recommended is the first in a new series” she answered, pointing it out. He was about to correct her but she continued quickly, “And the sequel isn’t out until early next year, so you’ll be waiting a bit for answers. Maybe start with this one?” she suggested, pointing out a title with the fewest books available. 

“Only a couple copies left, it must be popular. Have you read it?” 

“More times than I can count” she huffed.

“You’d think if you kept rereading it’s because you enjoyed it, no?” he chuckled. 

She simply shrugged, turning fully to meet his gaze, “Well, what’s the verdict? I do feel the need to warn you, these books are much closer to horror than just a normal mystery or thriller.” 

“Why does no one think I can handle these books?” he sighed in mild annoyance, grabbing the one she’d recommended off the shelf. 

“You just don’t seem like a horror enthusiast, that’s all.” 

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Do you want me to answer genuinely?” she responded, eyebrow quirked in a challenge he couldn’t help but rise to.

“Sure but if you hurt my feelings, can you at least give me a discount?” he joked and she snorted out a laugh.

“You’ve got yourself a deal” she smirked, offering her hand to shake on it, which he did. He wasn’t at all surprised when her handshake was firm and she maintained eye contact the entire time. “Well, you have two historical fiction books with you and that was the first section you went to when you walked in.”

“You were watching me?” he laughed, earning him an eye roll.

“It’s 11AM on a Tuesday, there’s not much else to do,” she replied, gesturing to the otherwise empty store. “Plus, it’s a fun game to play when I procrastinate on doing actual work. Anyway,” she emphasized, closing her eyes briefly to seemingly get herself back on track. “Once you found those, both of which are part of long, ongoing series, you debated going left to nonfiction or right to mystery. My guess is, you normally would go pick out some biographies, maybe some historical nonfiction or even, oh, maybe some kind of ‘how to maximize yourself’ guide. How close am I?”

He felt his cheeks warm from pink to scarlet, “I mean, close but that doesn’t mean I can’t also like mysteries…” he argued weakly. 

“True enough, who’s your favorite thriller writer?” The long silence was answer enough so she continued, “If you want, you can go pick out a nonfiction book and I’ll throw the thriller in for free.”

“You don’t have to do that, my feelings weren’t that hurt.”

She shrugged, “I can’t in good conscience let you pay for that book, you must have done something to piss off your girlfriend.”

“My coworker, actually” he corrected and her eyebrows rose. “What?”

“What did you do to the poor girl?” 

“Nothing! I even took her suggestion to shop locally.” 

“Our hero” she fake swooned and he rolled his eyes, making her laugh. “Fine, how about when you’re done you bring up your haul and I’ll throw in a surprise? I feel like you’re making it a pride thing to buy the book now.”

“Color me intrigued, we have another deal” he replied. “My name’s Quinn, by the way.” 

“Dora” she replied but a loud snort erupted from near the registers. “Fuck off, Richie” she snapped, turning away from him to seemingly go yell at whoever laughed at her.

Quinn tried to relax back into the calming routine of ambling through a bookstore but he kept hearing her voice and couldn’t focus on much else. He grabbed a biography Jack had recommended, both dreading and eager to be teased by the redhead.

“Don’t let her manipulate you into buying that garbage” the guy, presumably Richie, called as soon as Quinn was in his line of sight. 

“I’m doing no such thing! Tell him, Quinn” she replied, cheeks flaming red in annoyance, her golden eyes fierce with indignation. 

“My coworker actually recommended this author. A different book but still…” he shrugged, placing his other selections on the counter. He noticed her eyes appraising his selections and the quick, amused quirk of her mouth before she whirled to focus on Richie. 

“See I told you!”

“I’m sorry for not believing you” Richie said, seeming sincere to Quinn’s ears but Dora’s eyes narrowed. “It’s just that Theodora here often tries to swindle impressionable young men to improve her book sales.” The heavy emphasis on the girl’s full name made Quinn pause. 

“Wait a minute…” he blinked rapidly, processing this new information. “Your family owns this shop, right? Thomas’ Tomes?” 

“...yeah” she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring daggers at the giggling Richie. 

“And when you gave your name as Dora, he laughed. And this book, it’s written by Theo Thomas. And he just called you Theodora, which I think means you wrote this?” he questioned, feeling proud of himself for putting the pieces together and a little embarrassed it took him so long.

“He’s solved the mystery! Maybe he can handle your book after all, dear sister” Richie teased. 

“I was going to tell him!” Theo argued, grabbing a pen and opening the book. “That was the surprise, Quinn, now you have a signed copy of the book. You’re welcome, you can thank my asshole brother for ruining the reveal. I also signed a copy of the one your coworker recommended, can you pass it along to her? On the house.” 

“Are you sure?” Quinn questioned and she nodded, shifting to ring up the rest of his purchase. 

“Theo, stop” Richie huffed, shifting her away from the till. “You need to stop procrastinating and finish that last round of edits, they’re due within the week.”

“It’s just garbage anyway, you said so yourself” Theo replied mopily, sitting down on the stool next to the register.

“Oh come on…” Richie sighed, pausing his scanning to give his sister his full attention. “I was just messing with you. I know the sequel’s giving you a hard time but you’re at the finish line now, just a few more days of work then it’s out of your hands. And you’re an incredible, if worryingly grotesque, writer so I have every faith it’ll be amazing.”

“Did you hear that, Quinn?” Theo asked, grinning widely. “He finally admitted I’m a good writer.” 

“Oh fuck off, you guilted me into it!” Richie replied, grabbing the debit card from his outstretched hand. “Quinn, right?” 

“...yeah?”

“Quinn, can you please take my sister anywhere other than this shop? The cafe, the movies, a strip club? I literally don’t care, she’s driving me nuts.” 

“Richie! I’m sorry, he’s kidding, he knows that would be a weird, rude thing to request of a total stranger.” 

“A total stranger you’ve been flirting with…” he mumbled and Theo jammed her elbow into his side.

“Here, let me walk you out…” Theo said, grabbing his bag of books and rapidly leading him away from her brother. Once the cool fresh air surrounded them, she turned quickly towards him. “I am so sorry, Richie thinks he’s funny when he’s really just weird.”

“I have two brothers, I get it” Quinn assured her, reaching to grab the bag from her hands. “It was nice to have someone sign something for me for once.” 

“Do you sign things for people often?” she questioned, confusion evident in her eyes as she scanned him, trying to place who he may be. 

“Most nights yeah” he chuckled shyly, embarrassed by his comment. “Forget about it though…”

“No, no, I’m curious now” she smiled, head tilted in appraisal. “Not an author, I’d know you already. You definitely don’t give off musician vibes…but I don’t think I’ve seen you in anything either so not an actor. Who are you really Quinn? Here I was feeling bad for putting you through the ringer for my own amusement back there and you were a celebrity the whole time.”

“I wouldn’t go that far” he laughed anxiously, running his hands through his hair. 

“Well you’re either someone of import or completely delusional and just handing out signatures to people on the streets, so which is it?”

“I’m a hockey player.”

“...okay, and?”

“We’re in Vancouver.” 

“Yes, I’m aware.” 

“This is a huge hockey city! You don’t know the Canucks?”

“I don’t live under a rock, of course I do” she scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “I was raised in a bookstore though so sports aren’t high on my list of interests.” 

“Are they on your list at all?” 

“Take a wild guess, Quinn” she replied sarcastically. “I guess you’re a big deal then?”

“I mean, I am the captain…”

“Is that normally what gets girls interested in you?” 

“Damn, tell me how you really feel” he answered, averting his eyes and trying to play off how the quip hurt him. 

“Hey, I’m sorry” she replied, her voice gentle as she tugged softly on his coat sleeve “That’s not how I meant it. I guess I’m just surprised you felt the need to try to impress me when I’ve been waiting for you to ask me out since I walked over to you in the shop.” 

He was briefly stunned into silence, causing her to rapidly continue, “Oh god, I’m leaving. I hope my book doesn’t traumatize you and I’m sorry for assuming you were trying to impress me, that was weird and presumptuous of me.”

It was his turn to grab her sweater sleeve lightly, “Can I have your number?” 

“Are you sure you want it? I’m clearly an expert at putting my foot into my mouth…” 

“I’m 100% sure but only if you’re interested. There's no pressure.” 

Theo reached into the shopping bag, adding her number to her signature before returning it. “Text me when you finish chapter eight, not a minute before okay? You need to know what you’re getting into here.”

***

Theo sighed, finally closing her laptop for the night but not before catching the time: 1AM. She’d procrastinated most of the day before forcing herself to do the one chapter she’d promised herself she’d get done. She was confident in the overall story but she felt like a single thread was missing that would lead to the next book’s central plot. Should the apparent villain be more gray and get a redemption arc? Or should she double down? Or maybe…her phone vibrating across the desk stopped her obsessing.

Respectfully, your mind must be a truly terrifying place. What the FUCK was that twist?

She smirked, butterflies tentatively taking flight in her stomach at the unknown number’s text.

I’m sorry, who is this?

How many men do you secretly sell your book to, sign said book with your number, and give detailed instructions on when they can use that number?

At least three today that I can think of, so any additional information would really help.

It’s Quinn.   

Ah yes, the biography and historical fiction lover! What twist are you referring to? 

I think if I typed it out I’d get flagged by an FBI agent or something…that was gruesome

I tried to warn you…

Take my advice, try harder with your next group of guys

I’ll do my best. I suspect the more I’d try to warn you off the more you would have dug your heels in though

Nah, I don’t have a competitive bone in my body 

Of course, my bad. Will you finish the book or is it too much? You can always give it to your girlfriend

*Coworker. I wouldn’t be texting a beautiful girl I just met if I was in a relationship

How charming and reassuring of you!

Are you always like this?

Like what?

Chirping

…I’m sorry what?

You don’t know what chirping means? That’s disappointing given you're a writer, Theo… 

Please, enlighten me

Chirping is a hockey term for when you’re ribbing someone. During a game, guys will chirp or make fun of each other to get under their skin. 

Are you saying I’m getting under your skin?

I’m saying I feel like my brain has to work overtime to keep up with you

That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me

That can’t possibly be true

As she mulled over what to say next, the three blue dots popped up so she paused until his response appeareed

Can I ask you a forward question? 

Shoot 

Are you free tonight? 

Are you asking me on a date?

Not quite, I’m asking you to come to my hockey game 

And why’s that?

Because you’re clearly smart and cute and have a twisted mind that I’m curious to learn more about. But you gave me a warning, so asking you to go to my game is mine

Ah, so since you passed my test you want to see if I can pass yours?

If you want it to be a challenge, sure. I just think it’s fair for you to get a glimpse of my weird life before I actually ask you out. Just like how you showed me a glimpse of your weird brain. 

Challenge and pre-date screening accepted. Where do I go and when? 

Which is how Theo found herself weaving through the crowds at Rogers Arena. Quinn had offered to get her a second ticket so she’d have company but she figured it was fair she went it alone since he was game to read her book. How terrifying could a hockey game be in comparison to a brutal serial killer story?

Quite scary, it turned out. The crowd was electric, the arena was sold out, and the noise was deafening. She’d never admit it to Quinn but she did watch some basic hockey rule videos on YouTube so she wouldn’t be totally oblivious. By the third period, she felt settled into the rhythm of the game and was actually enjoying it a bit. Especially when a fight broke out and she could cheer for violence against a random man she didn’t know alongside thousands of people. There was something very cathartic about the experience. 

It also turned out that Quinn, in this world, is a big deal. She’d immediately noticed that a huge percentage of fans were wearing his jersey. And as the team warmed up, Quinn had traded a puck for a piece of candy causing the teenage girl to scream in hysterics afterwards. It was both bizarre and fascinating to watch given she’d met this random man the day before at her family’s store. Maybe she should have asked for a signature, it probably would sell for a pretty penny…

A roar from the crowd pulled her attention back to the ice and her heart dropped to her stomach. Fights were a lot less fun when you knew and had budding feelings for one of the guys involved, especially when who he was squared off against had almost half a foot on him. To her surprise and relief, Quinn could hold his own, using speed to his advantage. When they both fell to the ice before finally being separated, she took it to mean it was a draw but the crowd screamed like he’d single handedly won the championship game, even as he was guided off the ice by the officials. There was less than three minutes left in the game so she hoped that was why rather than that he was hurt. She worried her lip between her teeth as she pulled out her phone.

Idk if you’ll see this before the end of the game but are you okay?????

She sighed as the minutes passed, the final buzzer sounding without a reply, so she stood to leave with the tide of people. Just as she tucked her phone in her pocket, she felt it buzzing insistently with a phone call. 

“Quinn, are you okay?” she asked without greeting him. She was focused on his answer but noticed a few fans within hearing distance whip their heads towards her at his name.

“Yeah, sorry I jumped right in the shower after the major.”

“I don’t totally know what that whole sentence means but I’m relieved you’re alright.”

His warm chuckle through the phone made her toes curl. “Did I scare you off?”

“I’m offended you’d think so” she replied but if he’d been with her, he’d easily tell she was a little shaken by the experience. 

“If you say so, Dora…” he teased and she laughed loudly, accidentally drawing more attention her way. “Can I take you out for a drink then?”

“Yeah, I’d like that. I’m currently in a sea of your most devoted followers though so I’ll need some help finding you.” 

He stayed on the phone as he guided her through the arena to the parking deck where he’d meet her shortly, only hanging up once she confirmed she was at the right car by reading his license plate number back to him. She scrolled through her phone while waiting but she felt eyes on her. She couldn’t help but be a little uncomfortable at the thought that these strangers knew Quinn’s car or at very least understood players would be emerging into this section of the parking garage. As a lifelong Vancouver resident, she obviously knew how hockey-obsessed her city was but she never thought much about these details.

She heard male voices approaching from the opposite direction of where she’d come so she tucked her phone in her purse. Quinn emerged with a tall blonde, their two heads bent together in serious conversation. When a young boy approached, they both paused, kneeling down to greet him and sign his jersey. They repeated the motion a few times before excusing themselves from the small crowd that had formed. 

“Hey! How’d you like the game?” Quinn asked, briefly pulling her in for a hug.

“I really liked the fighting until you were involved, then it was less fun” she admitted, smiling to greet Quinn’s companion. “I’m Theo.”

“Elias, good to meet you. Enjoy the rest of your night and maybe help Theo into your car before loading up, yeah?” Elias suggested and she felt her brows furrow. Quinn quickly glanced back towards the small group of people and her eyes followed his, noting that several phones were out and seemingly recording everything.

“Thanks man, drive safe” Quinn replied, placing his hand on the small of her back to guide her to the passenger side “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine” she replied despite her confusion and frazzledness. He must have seen it on her face though because he quickly unlocked the door and helped her in. A moment later he was in the driver’s seat, backing up and speeding through the parking deck. 

“I think this is the longest silence I’ve experienced in your presence” Quinn mused at the long, but not uncomfortable, quiet that had settled.

“I’m sorry that was just…”

“A lot? Too much? I can drop you off if you’ve changed your mind, I get it” he nervously filled in.

“Quinn, stop,” she laughed. “That’s not what I was going to say, it’s just a lot to process. I really thought you were trying to, like, gas yourself up when you said people wanted your signature daily but the girl you gave a puck to almost burst into tears afterwards” 

His cheeks flamed a deep crimson which she found wildly endearing, “Yeah, it’s a lot to process for me and it’s my life.” She took in his tired eyes and the dark circles beneath them. 

“Why don’t we go back to my place? I have a full bar cart and you seem like you could use some quiet” she offered. 

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Quinn, I extended the invitation, of course I’m sure. Just take the left at the next light.” 

She guided him through the city to her apartment, allowing silences to stretch while he seemingly decompressed from the game and its aftermath. Contrary to his initial impression, she was comfortable with quiet and enjoyed when someone’s company didn’t require constant banter and attention.

“Here, park in this spot, my neighbor’s away this week so no one will care if you're there.” 

He did as instructed and she went to open the car door, nearly knocking him with it, “Jesus, Quinn! Did you sprint over here? I can open the door myself, you know…”

“I didn’t sprint, I just moved quickly. And I know you can open the door, I just wanted to do it for you” he mumbled and she smiled at his nervousness. 

“Well, thanks and I'm sorry for almost injuring you. It seems like something that could really fuck with your job.” 

“Just a little” he chuckled, offering his hand to help her out of his truck. She took it, enjoying how warm and calloused his fingers felt against her own. He went to remove his grip but she squeezed his fingers in a silent request to keep holding on, which he did. 

“This is a great spot” he complimented as they rode the elevator up to her floor. “I guess the writing’s really working out?”

“I moved in about a year ago. I’d been doing pretty good but then my most recent book, the one your coworker recommended, kind of blew up. Which is great but also has made getting the sequel done a bit stressful” she admitted, reluctantly releasing his hand to unlock her door. 

“Why’s that? Wouldn’t the success kind of add to your confidence?”

“It did, for a little, but if this next one tanks then it just proves it was a fluke and then what?” she questioned, flicking on the lights. “Penny!” she called, squatting down to pet her beloved dog. 

Penny wiggled into her body, pushing her over and onto the floor making Theo chuckle. “Settle down, it’s only been a few hours.” 

“She’s beautiful” Quinn complimented from behind her, closing the door as he stepped inside. Penny was immediately investigating him, sniffing his hands as her tail wagged excitedly. “What a sweetie. You said her name’s Penny, right?”

“Yeah, short for Pennywise” Theo elaborated as she stood back up to slip her shoes off. 

“Of course, how silly of me to not make the connection” he chuckled. 

“I mean, I’m named after a horror novel character so I had to continue the family tradition with my own child” she explained, making her way towards the kitchen. 

“Are you really?” 

“Yeah, Theodora from Haunting of Hill House. Richie was named after Tozier in Stephen King’s It.” 

“That makes your choice of genre less surprising.” 

She laughed and shrugged, “What can I get you to drink?”

“Honestly? I don’t really drink, I just wanted to see you tonight since the game didn’t scare you off.” 

“I tried to tell you, I don’t scare easily,” she teased. “I don’t really drink either. Hot cocoa?” 

“Sounds great, thanks” he replied and she busied herself getting the ingredients together. “Seriously though, what did you think of the game?” 

“Like I said, it was fun until I worried you were hurt, then it was significantly less enjoyable” she answered, handing him a warm mug. “Want to hang in my library? Your book taste is questionable but I still think you’ll enjoy my collection.” 

“Why is my taste questionable?” he scoffed but followed her down the hall. 

“It’s just very…dude bro-y.” 

“How elegant” he teased and she rolled her eyes. 

“Maybe not elegant, but accurate, no?” 

“Whatever, Dora” he grumbled and she laughed.

“Is that going to be a thing? You call me by my least favorite nickname when I annoy you?”

“To be fair, it was you who offered that name up.” 

She sighed, sipping her drink and settling into the couch in her study. She watched as he slowly made his way around the room, every wall lined with books from floor to ceiling. “This room is incredible.” 

“Thanks” she beamed, genuinely thrilled at the compliment. “It’s kind of my pride and joy, aside from Penny, of course.” 

“I can tell,” he replied earnestly, settling beside her. “There has to be some nonfiction in here, right?” 

“Sure, if you’re into true crime, psychology, forensics, and/or mental health memoirs.” 

“I actually really enjoy psychology, it’s helped my game a lot.” 

“Really?” she asked and couldn’t hide the surprise from her tone which earned her a light glare. “I just meant that hockey seems much more physical than cerebral.”

“Oh it’s super mental actually” he argued and she nodded her encouragement for him to continue. “Okay so tonight for example. I didn’t have to drop my gloves and fight but doing so showed my team that I have their back and the other team that even though I’m smaller, they can’t push me around. Since I’m a quieter guy, I choose my actions carefully to kind of speak without speaking if that makes sense.”

“It does but you’re not small, silly. Not that it would matter even if you were but you’re not.” 

“I’m hockey small” he corrected and she didn’t know enough to argue. “Oh, another example. When a player is approaching the goal, they have to strategize what they can physically do while also anticipating the goalies expectations. Which is hard because the goalie is doing the same thing. So, it becomes really strategic in addition to the skill you need to play at this level.”

She nodded, genuinely intrigued by this new element of the game she watched tonight. He must have taken her silence for boredom because he quickly continued, “I’m sorry, I can be a bit of a hockey nerd.”

“Don’t be sorry, it honestly makes the game more interesting to me to think of it that way. Plus, I already knew you were a book nerd, what’s one more level of nerdiness?” 

He rolled his eyes and she laughed, lost in their deep blue. The air shifted between them, tension developing where there had been none. She set her mug down, eyes dipping to his lips and back up. She really wanted to know what his mouth would feel like against hers. 

“I come with a lot of baggage” he admitted quietly and she shrugged. 

“Don’t we all?” she asked, matching his quiet tone. She couldn’t help herself from raising a hand to gently trace the curve of his cheekbones. “I really like looking at you” she mumbled before she could think the comment through. 

He chuckled softly, covering her hand with his own, “I really like looking at you too, weirdo.” 

She grinned at his response, closing her eyes as his mouth finally met her own. 

A/N: Sorry for the cut to black, I'm debating if I want to continue with this OC so let me know what you think! It's my first OC in a very, very long time so sorry if the grammar is wonky in spots.

[ryndicate]

Seal It With a Kiss ⨳ Kishibe

"You want me to do this for you? Then tell me exactly what it is that you want."

notes: I came up with this idea for @akiniku back in like september when i was just beginning to sniff around the csm fandom for a favorite. Dom told me all about him and i fell in love and came up with this plot and *then* I read csm lol. 6+ months later, here we are T-T thanks to @cyancherub for reading through his characterization for me and for my past and future beta readers<3 (i know some of you havent gotten the chance i was just too excited) Idon’t know if i will ever be able to put as much love into a Kishibe fic ever again so lets try to appreciate this

warnings: female reader, longer than a drabble, alcohol, virginity loss + inexperienced reader, creampie, emotional manipulation, coercion but there's consent, age gap (like 30 years between them, fight me), trainee/mentor relationship, twisted savior complex, canonverse, piss (more about control than it is the kink)

Rules/BYF/DNI

Kishibe sighs. “That’s it for today.”

“Already?” You puff, sweat dripping down your temples, your blade lowering until the tip is pointing to the ground. “I could keep going.”

He sighs again, resisting the urge to rub the approaching headache from his temple. Kishibe will never understand the PSDH’s insistence of sending him all of their potentials. Their screening is usually decent enough to keep this type of student from beneath his weathered wings, but every now and then one will slip through. One like you. Earnest, hopeful, and far too willing to do the job. This ain’t the place for you, never will be. They set you loose on the streets and you’ll be some Devil’s next meal. 

But it’s not his place to care. Not supposed to be at least. Makima won’t even tell him which Devils you have contracts with—but again, he doesn't care.

Kishibe ignores your mumbled complaints about cutting your training short, sighing under his breath. “Gonna need’a drink after this.”

He’s unprepared for you to pop up at his side, tilting your head as you ask if you can come with him.

“Why?”

The question seems to put you off. “Isn’t it good manners to take your juniors out after a hard day?” 

Kishibe huffs at your coy tone, certain you’re just after a free meal. “That’s for juniors who’ve proven they earned it.”

That seems to put you off even more. “You don’t think I’ve earned it?”

“No.” His answer is short, clipped. Dark eyes watch intently as you deflate a little, that perpetually cheerful expression drooping into something he ultimately decides is an unsettling expression on a face like yours. He doesn’t care for it, unable to decide why. 

“How’s this?” He grunts, pulling a cigarette from his pack and lighting up. “I’ll give ya a week.”

“A week for what? You're not supposed to smoke inside, you know.” A sulky tone meets Kishibe’s ears, your eyes tracking his lips and the flare of the cherry as he inhales.

He ignores the snipe. “You get close enough to me to take one of these away—” a twitch of his fingers has flaky ash fluttering to the linoleum, “—and I’ll take you out for drinks. That’s how you earn it.”

The sparkle is back in your eyes in an instant. Your sword tips back into its sheath, coming up on his left to give him a smile. "You got it, sir! You'll never smoke again. Just watch."

Kishibe rolls a shoulder, suppressing a groan at your chipper attitude. I'm getting too old for this shit. "We'll see about that, sweetheart."

He's ignorant to the way the words make you pause, moving for the door, ready to get in his car and drive to his regular dive bar. He needs the silence of the drive before he drowns himself for the night. Well, not so much silence as the rattling heating unit, the rush of passing cars, and music so quiet one might question why it’s even on. It’s simply the beginning step of the ritual he’s come to find most comforting, or numbing, on this job. 

"See you tomorrow, sir?"

“Yeah.” He doesn’t even bother glancing back as the door closes behind him. 

The autumn air clears his head a little as he finally escapes the hallways of the office. A cold breeze whips at his hair, bringing old scars and memories to mind as it bites at his skin. Kishibe takes a final drag of his cigarette and lets it fall to the pavement. He doesn’t stub it out, pulling out the collar of his jacket to fight the chill as he disappears into the evening crowd.

“That is not how this works.”

“There’s no way this doesn’t count!”

“Give them back.”

“I said you’d never smoke again, didn’t I? I didn’t think you of all people would want me to go back on my word.”

Kishibe takes a careful inhale through his nose, closing his eyes for a beat and convincing himself he won’t kill any of his trainees. He’s sent you to infirmiry more times than he cares to count with these training sessions, to bring home the apparently wavering point on your young dumb invicibility complex, but he knows where the line is. So when he opens them, Kishibe fixes you with the same intent stare that usually gets his subordinates to straighten up, or clingy women out of his apartment. Dark, unimpressed, unwavering.

You are painfully undeterred.

“I had to get close enough to take them from you. That’s what you said.” You stand in front of him, at a regrettably smart distance, looking mighty proud of yourself as you clutch the worn white box carefully in your fist. After five straight days of utter and total defeat, you’d made your move on the car ride over this morning instead. 

“I said one, not the pack,” Kishibe drawls. “And you know damn well that ain’t the point here. Nickin' them from the car is not the same.”

You shrug, a familiar petulance beginning to saturate your tone. “Not my fault you weren’t paying attention. You said that kills people.”

Unprepared for the—still a smartass answer but—wisdom of your words, some of the intensity dissolves from his eyes. As if he really needed that reminder. He still has his doubts. 

“No arguing that,” Kishibe sighs, scratching his neck. “Guess you get what you wanted. Drinks on me tonight.”

A triumphant smile brightens your face, but it doesn’t last. The barest moment later you find yourself flat on your back on the training facility’s floor, groaning at the impact. 

Kishibe flicks his lighter, sparking his cigarette and taking a grateful inhale of sweet nicotine as he stands over you, impassive.

“But I’m still gonna make you earn it, sweetheart. Getting overconfident and lettin’ down your guard also kills people. Get up and block me next time.”

“Yes, sir."

He might have been harsher on you today than entirely warranted as he watches you wince and shift, trying to get comfortable in the weathered booth of his usual bar. But really, to go any easier on you would do you a disservice if you really are this hellbent on working in public safety. Part of Kishibe is hoping one training session—and soon—he’ll find your limit and you’ll realize you aren’t making the cut. At the very least he’d like you to settle for the civilian sector. Hell, Kishibe despises paperwork but he'd write your damn recommendation.

You’re peering around the dimly lit space. It's hazy with smoke, with a scent to match. He probably could have taken you somewhere nicer, but he really didn’t want to stray too far from his own comfort zone, so what the hell. This was your own idea anyways. 

“Are you even old enough to be in here?” Kishibe asks suddenly, catching the eye of the bartender and tipping his head. 

“I came of age a couple months ago.”

Kishibe cringes inwardly at your prideful tone. Fucking great. He eyes you as the bartender begins to edge out from behind the counter, watching as you glance around a little frantically for a menu. Shoddy place like this doesn’t really have one. 

Kishibe gestures between the two of you before the man has to cross the bar completely. “My usual. Double for me.”

"What's your usual?" You ask curiously. 

"Whiskey. Nothing fancy, just cheap and strong." 

"Oh."

The glasses are placed in front of you and you give what Kishibe sees as an awkward smile at the bartender as your fingers wrap around the glass. He takes a grateful gulp, unable to help but notice you haven't made a move with your own. 

"Not to your taste?"

"I don't know," you answer plainly, tilting the short glass and letting the amber liquid catch the light. "Never had it."

"Never had whiskey?" Kishibe hums, bored, taking another drink. The double is going fast. The familiar warmth has already settled in his chest, an old comfort. 

"Never had alcohol."

Sucker punched with that information, Kishibe pauses and swallows the last of his glass before setting it down and signaling for a refill. He's far too practised to waste a drop of a drink he's paying for.

"Why are we here?" It's a shrewd question, a shrewd tone. "If you've never had alcohol, why were you so insistent on going out for drinks? Isn't that something you do with your friends?"

Your fingers tighten on the glass, a small pout forming on your lips. "Didn’t wanna do this with friends. Wanted my first drink to be with you, s-sir." Embarrassment coats your features as your words stumble off at the end, and you return to examining your still untouched drink.

Kishibe's refill arrives, another heaven sent double. He's getting the faint inkling that something else is happening here and he's far too tired to pick the answers out of you.

"Lemme get this straight," he drawls, leaning forward and jabbing a finger at you over the rim of his glass before bringing it to his lips. "You wanted your first drink out with a tired old man instead of your friends?"

"You're not tired!" 

Your tone is scandalized, pitch rising high enough that it catches the attention of some other men seated nearby. The last thing he needs.

Kishibe scoffs, scar twitching as he fights a sardonic smirk. "Beg to differ sweetheart."

"You're not, you…you're—" your volume is back to normal, seemingly struggling with your words, and it's amusing if not slightly endearing. 

"Lemme know when you think of something, I'll be here," Kishibe mumbles, drinking again, content to watch you squirm. "You gonna take that first drink? You got me here, like you wanted. Might as well."

That small smirk finally fights its way onto his lips as you give him the barest of glares. He usually doesn't see that look on you until you've gone an entire session without landing a single hit. It's cute. 

"You're you. Don't gotta 'splain myself to you," you grumble, timidly lifting the glass to your lips.

"No, you don't," Kishibe rumbles in agreement, watching as you take your first swallow. 

To your merit you don't splutter or cough, but a grimace splinters across your expression as you swallow and stare down at the glass in mild disbelief. 

"This sucks," you announce firmly.

Kishibe barks out a short laugh and finishes his second drink. "I'll order ya something else."

He's reaching for your glass when you snatch it away from him. 

"No, I'll finish it. This is what you usually get?"

"Yeah. But take it easy, that's a—" Kishibe stares, a little defeated as you down the glass. "Tha'sa sippin' whiskey."

"What's that mean?" You croak out, your face scrunching up despite your efforts.

"It means you're getting a glass of water before I get you anythin' else."

"Why?"

You'll thank me in the morning, Kishibe thinks grimly, not deigning to answer. Along with the next few rounds and the rounds after that, he also orders your water and some food, feeling abnormally generous. Maybe he just doesn’t want to deal with your grumbling tomorrow at training. 

He can’t stop thinking how strange this is. It’s strange. You’re here in his usual booth, humming an odd tune while drinking his usual whiskey, when he’s here each night, usually alone. Kishibe feels the deep disturbance all the way to his roots, gnarled and twisted as they are. 

Watching your face twist up at the taste again, Kishibe decides to slow down with some soju instead. Your eyes are getting blurry and your hands have settled into some kind of nervous habit, picking at the edge of the table as you try not to look at him. He doesn't understand your insistence here. Here at the bar, or anything else. 

"Why are you doin' this?" He asks again, quiet.

You glance at him, blinking slowly as your gaze struggles to focus. Then you force a smile, sweet and pure as a Devil's heart. It's damn near chilling to see. 

"'Cause I want to, sir."

"Bullshit." He's looked into you. Your family is alive, financially stable. You're not like most rookies joining up for the pay or the revenge. And from being around you he figures you aren't the type to do this for status. So it doesn't make sense. 

Your smile fades. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said. You're not cut out for this shit, kiddo. An' I think ya know it, too."

"It's my first night out drinking, how can you tell?"

"Don't play coy with me."

You stand sharply, unsteady, a look crossing your face that Kishibe can't read. Before he can speak again, you're sliding into the booth on his side. 

"Then ask me directly, sir." You whisper, trying valiantly to meet his harsh stare, before eventually losing your nerve and fixing your gaze on the table. 

Like Kishibe has any problem being direct. Fine then. He sets his glass down and turns his body to face you. "Why're ya training so damn hard to become a Devil Hunter when it's just gonna get you killed?"

Cheeks warming, you don't look at him again. "Every Hunter has their reason, or else they wouldn't be here. We don't gotta share them unless we want to."

Your words are halting, and slurred. Kishibe pushes your drink out of reach. A fifth of whiskey and bottle of soju between you both for your first night out was an oversight on his part, even if he had more than you. 

"And you're not goin' to tell me?"

Head dropping into your palm, eyelashes fluttering, you peek up at him. "Not unless you can tell me why you care."

Kishibe pauses. He's got plenty of reasons, but he's not uncouth enough to say them to you. 'Cause he doesn't want to be wasting his time prepping meat for the chopping block. 'Cause booze is expensive and sleep is precious. He doesn't get enough as it is and he's sick at the idea of losing more. 'Cause every time one of his trainees dies, it feels like a new scar cracks its way across the already trampled fragments of his soul. 

There's plenty of reasons he drinks himself nearly dead every night. 

Your fuzzy eyes peer into his darkened ones and seemingly run into the wall that you know he's put up. "Then it's better you don't ask, sir. It’s important to me, that’s all you need’ta know."

So much for direct.

There's a silence at the table after Kishibe gruffly orders another drink, his mood for the night officially ruined. This is why he doesn't socialize with coworkers. Save people by day, check out at night. He lives for one fleeting peace; he'd rather be drowning in booze and laid up in the arms of whatever woman will put up with him.

And all he has right now is booze. He flags the barkeep. "Bottle for the road."

You shift to look at him. "Are we leaving already?"

"Yeah. You've had plenty."

There's no complaint, but there's no mistaking the look of disappointment on your face as he takes your arm and helps haul you to your wobbly feet.

"What's that look for?"

"I was having fun, sir."

"Stop calling me sir."

"Why?"

"Cause we're at a fucking bar. Sir is for work."

"Then what am I supposed to call you?"

"Just Kishibe."

He finally looks at you again and you're smiling and this time there's nothing to be unsettled about. "No honorific? You'll let me call you by name?"

"It's sir at work," Kishibe reminds, deadpan.

“And master in front of other hunters, I know,” you parrot cheekily, and Kishibe merely curls his lips in a temporary smirk.

“Damn right.”

"But not at work?" You prod, leaning into his frame heavily as the cold night air washes away the warmth of the bar.

"Then yeah, drop the honorific."

"Kishibe." His name leaves your lips as a wonder-filled giggle. The corner of his lip tugs further upward unwittingly in dry amusement. At least someone can salvage the mood for the night. 

You poke at the bottle held loosely in his grip. "Can I have some of that?"

He passes it to you. "You don't even like the stuff."

An impressive amount of the amber liquid disappears down your throat before you groan in disgust and pass it back to him. "Sometimes we do stuff we don't like 'cause we get something out of it."

Kishibe hums at that. "And what do you get out of it?"

"'S a secret."

"A secret, huh? You seem to have a lot of those." He drawls, keeping you upright when you almost fall again. Yeah, he needs to find you a taxi or something. Neither of you are driving tonight. It's a little annoying, he meant to stop at the convenience store to get another pack of cigs before going home tonight. The crumpled empty pack is still in his pocket—he hasn't had one since this morning and Kishibe can feel the irritation in his nerves. 

"What's your address kid?" He nudges you as the taxi pulls up, but your weight against his hip suddenly feels dead. "Are you—of course you are."

Kishibe's whole chest fills with his next sigh, and he quietly works to get you into the cab. The driver asks him where they're going and he actually has to think about it for a moment. He'd much rather prefer going back to his cozy little hideout, but it's a mess and much too small. Not to mention he absolutely does not want you knowing where it is.

Closing his eyes, Kishibe reluctantly mumbles out an address, and sinks even deeper into his bottle before the cab drops them off at the requested location.

He eyes you over as the elevator quietly ascends, one arm around your waist with yours around his shoulder to bear your weight. It's really no wonder you passed out, the scent of whiskey is just about crawling out of your pores. Between the two of you, Kishibe bets the elevator smells like a distillery.

The doors open into his “apartment”. 

He doesn't like sleeping here. The place is too big, ceilings too high, furniture too fancy. All those high windows and modern grays and whites. It's perfectly clean and perfectly lifeless, set up for him by the PSDH. He's sure some bright-eyed big shot hunter in it for the money and high living would get a kick out of the place, but for a man like him the space is just obnoxious. But since his studio isn't an option, and Kishibe can't be bothered with taking you to a hotel, he figures you'd rather prefer one of his guest rooms instead. 

Kishibe flinches and grumbles under his breath as the now empty bottle slips from his hand and clatters to the hardwood. You make a rather undignified snort as you startle to awareness. If one could call it that.

“Wha—” Your fingers cling to the sleeve of his jacket as you blink through the blur of your eyesight, struggling to find your footing. “Where’re we now?”

“My place.”

“You live here?” 

“Technically.”

He hauls you towards the kitchen, somewhat a struggle with your uninhibited desire to swivel your head and scan the place as thoroughly as you were presently capable of doing.

“Not what I pictured.” You wobble and right yourself, slumping against the marble countertop. Kishibe pauses, making sure you’re gonna make a dive for his floor before he turns to pull open the fridge.

“Yeah well, me neither.”

“It’s so clean.” That earns you a grunt. “And modern.”

“You tryin’ to say something, sweetheart?” He sends you a look that sends a hot wave of embarrassment across your face.

“No! ‘M just sayin’...”

“Yeah, whatever. Here.”

You take the water bottle he pushes into your hands and open it, halfheartedly taking a few sips to ease the simmer in your cheeks.

Kishibe snorts when you put it down. “Nuh uh, finish that.”

You take another sip, trying to placate him. “‘M not thirsty though.” 

Your eyes widen as he grumbles and steps closer, dark eyes narrowed. It’s impossible to muffle the noise of complaint on your lips as he tips the water bottle back, keeping your chin up with an uncompromising strength. "Tough. I said all of it."

The rough pads of his thumbs feel like fire on your jaw and he seems to have no idea how his proximity is setting you ablaze. You quickly swallow before you choke, or worse spill down your chin like a child. He doesn’t let go until you’ve finished the bottle—it’s impossible not to gasp for air as if you’ve breached the surface of a pool for the first time in minutes.

“Pretty good lungs.”

“I almost died—!” You wheeze, unappreciative of the joke, wiping your face with your arm.

“You were gonna be dead in the morning if you didn’t. Might as well get it over with.” Kishibe sets the empty bottle on the counter, unflappable.

“Hmph.”

You watch curiously as he grabs himself some water, noticing with a scowl that he doesn’t drink nearly as much as he forced on you. He reaches for a small bottle, rattling as he shakes a couple into his palm. “You’re not supposed to take those with alcohol.”

Kishibe gives you a dry look and pops the painkillers into his mouth. He can feel his head pounding already, his routine thoroughly interrupted. He can’t mentally check out with you still here, especially in this state. You look a little more solid now compared to your unconscious slump, but you’re still visibly swaying, blurred eyes drifting in and out of focus. Last thing he needs is for you to do something to yourself when he’s around. The paperwork for that would be the death of him.

He shrugs and nods for you to follow. “C’mon, sweetheart.”

You suddenly look nervous. “C’mon where?”

“Night’s over. Time for bed.”

You produce a shaky laugh. “What?”

Sweet fuck.

“You want a bed or the couch?” Kishibe takes applaudable effort to keep the exhaustion out of his tone. Honestly, you'd probably be better off with the couch, grateful for your mumbled little ‘doesn’t matter to me’. He's not sure of the state of any of the rooms, considering he's trashed them before. Whoever set the place up for him might have a cleaning service but he's never bothered to ask about it since he’s never here. “There’s blankets around here somewhere.”

Stepping into the living room he sees he’s right, a couple of soft looking throws draped over the back of a plush black sectional. You’re trailing close behind him, like you’ll get lost if you lose sight of him. 

“Sit.” Kishibe says tiredly as you circle around the edge of the sectional, looking around curiously.

You listen and he grabs the other blanket off the far arm of the couch, tossing it and one of the pillows towards where you’re sitting. The pillow lands at your side, the blanket haphazardly in your lap, are you’re just staring at him as he settles on the other side, shrugging out of his suit jacket and letting that fall to the floor.

“Get comfortable, go to sleep,” Kishibe grunts, closing his eyes.

“You’re staying in here?”

He doesn’t read into the tone of your voice, keeping his eyes shut. “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t choke on your own puke in your sleep.”

“‘M not gonna puke,” you grumble under your breath.

Kishibe wills in a sigh, listening to the rustle of blankets and what he assumes is you settling down. Only to tense as the cushion near him dips under weight. He opens his eyes to see you sitting you next to him and his eyes sharpen.

You cut him off, seeming to sense whatever biting remark is coming. “I’m not tired. Not good at sleeping in new spaces.”

“Well you need’ta try.”

“Can we just talk for a bit?”

He sighs, but he doesn’t refute you, opening his eyes to give you a quiet stare. “Fine. What do you want to talk about?”

Relying heavily on the lingering alcohol in your veins to gather the nerve, you scooch closer to his position on the couch, dragging the blanket with you. “You’ve really never had anyone over here? But Himeno says you never spend your nights alone.”

Kishibe eyes you warily as you enter what he considers his field of personal space, your knees barely brushing against his thighs. “I don’t normally spend my nights here. And you can tell Himeno she’s got better things t’do than gossip about my personal life.”

“So you spend the night at their place then?”

“Sometimes.”

“Are you really the womanizer everyone says you are?”

Kishibe glances up to see you even closer and shifts a little to give you a measured look, eyelids drooping in suspicion. “You really want the truth of that?”

“Yeah, ‘m hoping to hear something,” you murmur, heart racing as you place a hand on his abdomen. It stiffens under your touch, but he makes no move to stop you, so you toy with the button of his shirt. 

“And what’s that exactly?” Shock receding, his mind catches up and he grabs your hand, keeping it from tracing its upward path.

“There’s something I’m hoping you can help me with, sir.”

“Kishibe.”

“Kishibe,” you correct, cheeks warming as you finally raise your eyes from his chest to look into his own. He’s watching you so closely that you almost look away again, almost chickening out. 

His eyes are locked onto the way you’re chewing at your lip, waiting for you to say something more, hoping for anything that makes sense. When you don’t his patience thins enough to ask, “Well?”

“I-um,” you hesitate before your fingers curl into his shirt, mentally fortifying yourself, “I’ve never… I’m looking for someone experienced to- to help me. I want it to be you.”

There's a small pause as his whiskey-addled mind filters out the meaning of your words. Then, a small disbelieving smirk is half-formed on his lips when he scoffs out a laugh. “Ha, no, sweetheart. No, I don’t think so.”

He’s shifting to stand up off the couch when you panic. You’ve gotten this far! He has to hear you out, or you’ll never be able to look him in the eye again, let alone train under him. So before he can, you throw your thigh over his lap, straddling him. His hands flash to your arms in an iron grip, keeping your hands from wandering any further. He’s staring at you in muted disbelief, tense, as if he can’t quite believe you’re defying him. 

“Please wait,” your voice raises in pitch, but you’re almost whispering. “I can explain, please just listen.”

“What? Cute little student girl got the hots for teacher? Or are you desperately in love with me now, and can’t bear the thought of anyone else sullying your innocence?” he drawls out, the insanity of this situation finally allowing him to release the floodgates on all the ill manner he’s been attempting to keep back all night. 

Your face might as well be a space heater as you splutter in mortification at being seen through so easily, trying to find the words to refute him. “N-no! No, I wasn’t. That’s… That’s not…”

“You better clear this up real quick then, sweets, cause you don’t have long before I take it into my own hands,” Kishibe warns lowly, soft and dangerous, seconds from calling a cab to get you miles away from his apartment, and more importantly him. 

The hard-eyed stare he’s giving you now is nothing like the way he looks at you in training. Your heart sinks into your stomach at the thought that entertaining your feelings is enough to make him react this way, turning him into this colder version of himself that you barely recognize. This is not going the way you intended, but you can’t imagine that you’ll ever be in a situation like this ever again, so you take a deep breath and clear your expression of all deceit. “It’s not like that, but I really can’t think of anyone else to help me with this. It’s not for lack of trying.”

Kishibe eyes you, his grip on your arms not slacking. You glance down at him warily, and he’s like a bristling cat that’s making an attempt at trust. 

“So…? Will you help me?”

He mumbles eventually, still tense, “Why not Hayakawa? Or one of the other rookies, they’re probably better suited.”

You make a face. “The rookies are stupid, and Hayakawa-san is just too… stern.”

“I’m not stern?”

“That’s not the point!” You retort hotly. “Hayakawa just seems more like someone who isn’t interested in casual flings—”

“And that’s what you’re looking for here?” Kishibe cuts in drily, noting the way your mouth snaps shut. You shift awkwardly in his lap and he stoutly blames his nightly routine for the way his body is sluggishly perking to life. He might have the heart of a saint, but his mind is more like a devil’s… and he has eyes.

Oblivious to his internalizations, you grimace. You don't want casual anything so it's technically a point in Hayakawa's favor. But there's one big point in the younger man's (begrudgingly small) list of cons that can't be overlooked: he's not Kishibe.

“I’m looking for someone who knows what they’re doing,” you inform him, your voice softening. There’s a sort of vulnerability to you now that has the older man caving despite himself and listening more intently, watching you whiplash between assertive and shy for the nth time. “Someone I trust, who won’t take advantage of me. And… I don’t believe the whole sacred virginity schtick, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want my first time to be… I don’t know, special?”

Kishibe’s mouth runs dry, and this time he blames the alcohol. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“Don’t say that,” you plead softly, leaning closer without thinking in your excitement. That wasn’t a refusal. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal, I don’t have anyone else to ask.”

He can feel your breath on his cheeks, his eyes bouncing between your lips and eyes for a moment before humming low. “No one else? A girl like you, having to settle for an old man like me?”

"No one has to know. Please, sir?" You plead quietly, with crystal notes of sincerity. It's a painfully sweet sound.

Kishibe reluctantly lets your arms slip from his hands and drops his own to loosely grip your waist, absently drawing a pattern on your hip with one finger. The heat of your body is filtering so thick through your clothes that he doesn't know how he didn't notice it until now. You shiver at his touch, and he tries to keep his expression neutral when you instinctively grab at his shoulders.

He shouldn't be considering this for even a second, but he is and he hates himself for it. You're a young pretty thing, and he's made a point to stop looking at young pretty things the way your touch is sparking him to, for going on years now. 

Carefully, one hand moves to rest on your stomach, caressing its way up over your covered chest, eliciting a soft gasp from you before it moves on and settles under your chin, firmly tugging it down to make sure you're looking at him. He's never cared for the way you can't look him in the eye, and he normally lets it go but he won't tolerate it tonight. If he goes through with this, that is.

Your eyes are wide, and glazed in a way that has nothing to do with alcohol for the first time tonight. Kishibe makes a low sound in his throat at the sight of it before speaking, a heavy, rumbling tone meant to ensure you're taking in every word. 

"You want me to do this for you?"

"Yes." Your breath catches as you damn near breathe the word out, your heart in your throat and a flutter in your stomach that makes you feel like you might fly away.

"Then tell me exactly what it is that you want." Fuck, he’s really doing this.

"I…" The hesitation must be clear on your face because his expression gets heated, a tiny smirk forming at the corner of his lips. You wouldn't have seen it at all if you weren't staring at them so hard. A quiet moan spills from your lips as he presses them to your jaw, not quite kissing, but dragging them up, warm breath tickling your ear. The center of your world quakes as he continues with that low, soul-quaking tone.

"Do you want me to treat you like a princess? Worship your body and make it all about you, take you to another world as I take you apart?" Kishibe marvels at the broken whimper you make as he grazes his teeth across your earlobe. "Or do you want me to be a little selfish? Show you pleasure as I know it, and change everything you think you know about carnal desire?" 

"Sir—"

"No," he warns severely, gripping your thigh in warning, pulling back to look you in the eye. 

"Kishibe," you correct yourself with a breathy whine that you hope doesn’t sound ridiculous. "Kishibe, I want you to choose."

"You want me to choose?"

"Th-that's why I chose you. You always- always know what's best."

That's so far from true, but in this realm of possibility, with you blinking those sweet little doe eyes down at him, Kishibe won't be the one to correct you. "...Alright."

"Then please take care of me." Please.

This time it's him who shudders. "Alright," he murmurs again, "Alright, sweetheart. I've got you."

He’s a little gentler this time as he tugs your chin down to him, meeting your lips in a delicate kiss that has all his nerves standing to attention in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time. With other women, he has no reason to be slow or gentle. With other women, both parties know what they’re there for, but this isn’t like that. You aren’t like that. You’re young, and if you’re to be believed, untouched. Pure. And you’ve put yourself in his care, begging for him to remove that purity. He’s not sure he ever would have agreed to this if he were sober, so you lucked out. Or maybe this is what you wanted all along.

Kishibe groans softly as you timidly move to respond to his kiss, alcohol sweet on your breath. You at least seem to know what to do here, parting your lips and staying pliant as he learns how you taste, moving your tongue against his as he explores your mouth. He breaks for a moment, giving you a warning and enough time to stop him, tugging at the hem of your shirt. “I’m taking this off now.”

He waits, and when you do nothing but moan, he begins to pop the buttons of your shirt open, one by one from the bottom up, exposing your navel, and then the black cotton bra beneath. You kiss him deeper as he slides a hand up your spine, rocking your hips into his lap as he pulls at the clasp, undoing it in a practised move. The fabric falls loose, and he presses a hand to your sternum, forcing you to retreat.

Your lips are slick, a little swollen, but it’s the hazy look in your eyes that has all his attention. “You good, sweets? You even gonna remember this in the morning?”

“I will. I will, 'm promise. Please keep going,” you slur, not really giving him the best vote of confidence. 

“Take that off for me.” Kishibe tugs loosely at your bra, the cups hanging just low enough for him to get a peek at your areolas. His cock is straining in his slacks now, but he’s too invested for it to be uncomfortable yet. He meant it when he said he was going to take you apart, and he’s going to do it slowly.

You blink at him, and timidly slide the straps off your shoulders. Your movements are slow, but there’s less hesitance than he’s seen so far. It’s clear you’re more worried about his disapproval than any insecurities you might have. Good. 

“Good girl. Look at you,” Kishibe is quick to dole out the praise as soon as your tits are exposed, half for your confidence and half because they really are pretty tits. He’s reaching for them before even he can process what he’s doing. Your nipples are already hard, pulled taut and looking painfully neglected, either from your own arousal or the air. It could be cold in here for all Kishibe knows, but the air around him feels thick, heated and charged. He’d be suffocating if he weren’t so focused.

You take a shuddering breath as he holds them. His touch is so light, the pads of his fingers calloused and warm, stroking over the sensitive flesh. You want more, arching into his touch as much as you dare, still unable to shake the thought that he might change his mind and end this, but for now he doesn’t disappoint. Dazed, you realized the sharp gasp that bites the air is yours as he strokes the pads of his fingers over your nipples before tugging lightly, pleasure rippling hot under your skin.

Your head tosses back in a moan as he does it again, this time his lips brushing the curve of your breast as he pulls you forward, pressing your chest closer to his face. He sucks at the fat of your breasts, still gently tweaking your at your hardened nubs, working his way over, seemingly content to explore.

Pleasure moves hot and slow under your skin, but your mind keeps rocketing from one sensation to another, making it impossible to think beyond the man beneath you. His slick tongue moving against your skin, the heat and wet of it stroking over the edge of your areola, the rough pad of his thumb, the scrape of his blunt nail over the sensitive tip of your nipples, the same callouses gripping at your back, fingertips tickling the edge of your shoulder blade. 

“Quit it,” Kishibe grunts after a minute, and you realize you’ve twisted your hands into his hair, tugging him closer and trying to drag him to where it feels like he’s purposefully avoiding. 

“Please, Kishibe, please,” you moan, blissfully unaware of the minor tantrum you’re throwing at you grind down on his clothed erection. “Your mouth.”

“What about it?” He blinks at you lazily, taking the moment where you sit back to tug at the top few buttons of his own shirt, exposing the top of his chest and a peek of the dark hair that’s hidden beneath.

“Let… Let me feel it,” you breathe out after you’ve snapped your eyes away from that new detail.

The slow grin that spreads across his features feels like the first key in the series of locks that surrounds the man in front of you, a piece of him that he doesn’t share willingly. Something that has to be brought out, dragged out, a prisoner in a cage of its own making. 

“Be more specific, sweets.”

But he’s still the same man, he just exists in varying shades. You squirm for a moment, subject to self-consciousness, but the ache in your nipples, growing tighter in the continued neglect, wins out. You cup your own tits, pushing them out as you lean back down to him. “Want it here. Need to feel you suck on them.”

An appreciative gleam brightens dark eyes. “There’s a good girl.”

This time Kishibe leans in with intent, and you learn something else—your mentor is a goddamn tease. 

His tongue drags over your nipples before sucking, and your hands are tangled in his hair again before you can process it, a cry in a pitch you don’t even recognize torn from your mouth. The slick muscle flicks over the tip as his free hand comes up to roll the other between his fingers lightly. You’re shamelessly rutting into his lap now, senselessly chasing the pleasure boiling low in your stomach, and you can feel him moan against your skin at the friction.

You feel the scrape of his teeth, light and intentional, before he pops off and switches to the other. The treatment begins anew and you swear you might be able to come from this, the wet suction of his mouth, the tacky warmth as he tugs and twists at the nipple still covered in his spit. But Kishibe doesn’t let you, noting the frantic ruts of your body and beginning to slow his efforts, easing you back down.

“Wait—” Your complaint rears itself as your fingers twist into the shorter hair of his nape, trying to tug him closer the moment he pulls away.

“Easy, I’m not done with you,” he rasps, taking your wrists and gently detanging your fingers from his hair. 

You yelp as he grips your thighs and flips your back to the cushions, a strength you already knew he had from all the times he’s stomped you in training, but it surprises you regardless. There’s no time to pick through your thoughts at the display, because Kishibe is bullying between your thighs and capturing your lips in a kiss that puts the last one to shame. It’s possessive, it’s plundering; erasing any other thought from your mind except the way he feels against you. How immovable he feels, his hips keeping your thighs spread, his obvious arousal against your core, his weight against your torso—whatever isn’t supported by his forearm against the cushions, just what he chooses to give you—the scratch of his stubble against your face, the ones he lets overgrow because they shadow his jawline again in less than a day. 

You moan into his mouth as a hand slips between your bodies, pulling the button of your slacks and pushing a hand into your panties, the sound turning into a high keen as he drags his fingers through your slit. You know you’re wet, soaked even, but it’s still a shock to feel your own wetness as he pulls back out, slick against your mound before he’s free of your clothing, to see it shining on his fingers when he pulls back to give you a breath. You knew you wanted him, but to see how much would be mortifying if he knew the truth.

The glisten on his fingers goes unnoticed for a second as he catches sight of your wrecked expression, sitting back on his haunches.

“Oh sweets, look at you,” Kishibe chuckles, voice tight. “You’re a pretty sight right now, and you don’t even know. A sweet little mess. My sweet little mess, for tonight.”

Making a decision, he swipes his hands on the thighs of his pants and undoes his shirt, tossing it over the back of the couch, aware of the way you stare from beneath him. He's getting there in years, but the aches of this job refuse to let his body go soft. There's a thin layer of soft skin stretched across the muscles beneath, making the definition less pronounced, less assuming, but there's no denying the power behind them as he flexes subtly, smirking when your eyes track the movement. 

"Hips up," he orders firmly, his fingers already tugging at the waistband of your slacks.

Not needing to be told twice, you shift and raise your hips as he pulls them from your legs, panties and all. You're completely bare under him, and he's still wearing his pants, the button popped, looking like a god above you. His eyes are piercing, his expression set like marble. As he puts hot palms on your thighs, spreading them even further apart, you think about how attractive he looks when he smokes, almost wishing he had a cig hanging from his lips so you could see it. 

Kishibe is staring intently at your pussy, the hunger in him growing deeper as he watches the muscles twitch. "So no one's ever touched this, huh?" 

You shake your head, whimpering as he pulls your sticky lips apart. 

"You lying, sweetheart? Not even you?" 

Kishibe pulls back the hood of your poor swollen clit, stroking it lightly with the tip of his finger, dark eyes watching your face intently. 

The touch rips a gasp from your throat like ice had been poured down your back, tossing your pretty little head back into the pillows as your fingers twist at what little slack the cushions beneath you have. Kishibe feels the flames of hell crawl a little closer to his own flesh as his arousal flares dangerously at the sight. 

When you remain silent he prompts a little cruelly for an answer, slowly circling the throbbing bud. "Hmm?" 

"I've-yeah I've touched it. Sometimes." 

"Tell me." 

"Tell you?" You suck in a harsh breath as one of his digits teases your entrance, but pulls away. 

"Yeah, tell me how you touch your pussy at night. I wanna know how you play with yourself." His voice drones with detached amusement but his dark eyes are sharp, the sight making your skin prickle with elation to be the center of his attention.

“Usually slow,” you breathe out, moaning when he moves to your clit again. Two fingers press on the bundle of nerves and begin to rub back and forth in a steady tempo. 

“Like this?” Kishibe murmurs, watching you closely.

“Slower,” your voice breaks an octave higher as he increases the pressure just a little, readjusting to what you now realize are instructions for him. “Y-yes, mm, like that…”

“Good. How about your fingers, hmm? You do that slow too?” 

You can feel yourself dripping down to the couch as his voice drips across you like honey. “Yeah, at first.”

“One to start?” 

“Fuck!” A keen tears from your throat as he slides the first digit in, abandoning your clit, the thick, calloused digit pressing in to the hilt with zero resistance.

“Or do you start with two?” Kishibe watches raptly as his middle joins his pointer in the rippling warmth of your cunt, the broken sob leaving your lips sending a irresistible wave of want tearing through his body. The way your hips grind into his touch, chasing more of him is enough to let him know that you can take more, but he lets you stay here for a moment, using his free hand to stroke over his confined cock as you writhe beneath him. 

It’s not hard to find the right angle to stroke your slick walls, curling his fingers up into the spot that has you tossing your head back with what almost sounds like a mournful wail, as if you’re just realizing that you’ve never really given yourself real pleasure before. Kishibe isn’t sure if you have to be honest, you haven’t said, but he isn’t concerning himself with that. He’s too focused on the way you shy away from his touch when he presses his thumb to your clit again, as if you can’t take the combination.

“Oh?” It’s almost a coo, delight pulsing in his veins. “Not like that huh? That not how you do it?”

“I can’t, I can’t—it doesn’t, n-never like this!” It almost sounds like you’re pleading with him, your eyes wide as you stare at him, a thick haze of shock and bliss covering your irises that Kishibe is losing himself in, pumping his wrist, tempted to add a third finger just to see what sounds you’ll make.

“Told you I’d change everything you think you know about pleasure, sweetheart.” He pulls his digits from your pussy, relishing in the whine of protest. And if he’s being honest with himself, there’s a bit of a power complex rushing through him, to be able to control your pleasure whether you think you can handle it or not is too alluring. It’s the thought of making you scream, nothing barred, as he forces ecstasty on you that you don’t even know exists on that has him pushing off the couch which a groan to finally free his cock, shucking his pants off, the liquor leaving him a little unsteady. 

“Sit up for me.” 

You do as he says, confusion scrunching you expression as he settles between your legs, his knees protesting only a little as he shifts so that the plush carpet isn’t dragging uncomfortably against his skin. A little yelp stays in your throat as he tugs you to the edge, spreading your thighs wider and positioning your hips up to expose your pretty pussy. He’s only a breath away, the scent of you thick, kissing distance really, when you slur out some nonsense that sounds questioning, but he can’t say he actually catches any sense of syllables from you.

“I’m thicker than most so you need this,” Kishibe grumbles, nipping at your inner thigh as you squirm and glaring you into submission, “But even a man with a pencil dick better be doin’ this for ya, so don’t accept less.”

Before you can come to terms with him on your knees before you, your mind fizzles out as his tongue swipes through your folds, and his groan vibrates deep into your core. If not for his hands keeping your thighs spread, you would have wrapped them around his head. His nose nudges at your clit as his tongue presses into your clenching pussy, and you can’t stop the garbled sound of pleasure as he laps at your walls, your head tossing back against the couch cushions as he eats you like a meal. It’s surreal, it doesn’t make a lick of sense but oh god you don’t care. The sounds of him slurping at your cunt makes your cheeks burn and you force yourself past your self consciousness to look down at him, the skin of your knuckles stretched tight as you curl them into shaking fists, trying to wrap your mind around the sensations. 

Kishibe flattens his tongue over your clit, and meets your gaze with a wicked gleam in his eyes as he slips a finger into you, savoring the way you clamp down right away, giving a reedy mewl. He can’t help himself any longer, one hand closing around his dick and beginning to slowly stroke himself, trying to go slow, to ease some of the pressure and calm himself down. He adds another digit, and sits back as he begins to work you towards your finish. 

“Should’ve done this in a bed,” he mutters under his breath, the scent of your pleasure thick, feeling mildly guilty as you tremble through your long awaited awaited high. Even his first encounter had been in a bed, traditional.

Kishibe hisses into your thigh as your fingers twist so tight into his hair that he’d snap at you if he were anywhere but here. Here with his fingers sweeping over your clit, watching the way your muscles ripple and tense, an obscene amount of slick and cum dripping onto his couch, and damn it why are you so easy to spoil? Why is he letting you practically rip the hair from his head as your hips jolt and jump, pleasure taking every ounce of your control away from you. There’s a wet sound as he finally pulls his fingers from your cunt, and you slump against the cushions, a looking so beautifully fucked out that it’s a damn shame you haven’t actually been fucked yet.

But that’s what you came here for, and Kishibe will not be the one to disappoint. He pushes to his feet for a moment and drags your hips until you’re both on the couch comfortably, and lets himself sink between your legs, his dick hot and throbbing against your inner thigh. It’s weeping precome and there’s a shivering sense of relief to know that his patience is finally about to be rewarded. 

“You still with me, sweets?” Kishibe murmurs softly, leaning over you, letting his lips drag up your throat in a possessive trail of teeth marks and bruises. “You ready for me?”

The prickle of his overgrown stubble brings you back down a little, and you moan as his tongue swipes over the indentations left in your flesh. “That was—” you gasp at a sharp dig of his teeth under your jaw, hips arching towards him as you feel the weight of his dick between your slick folds, thoughts flying from your mind as the thick tip of him slides over your oversensitive clit. “Oh fuck, Kishibe please. I need y- I need it, oh god.” Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Maybe he really is going to ruin you. You can’t imagine anyone else ever making you feel this good, so overwhelmed but so hungry for it.

“Good fucking girl,” he whispers, and your body lights up as he shifts back a little, the head of his cock pressing against you and easing inside your desperate walls. He grins as your arms wrap around his shoulders, lips searching for his as your hips try to squirm deeper onto his cock. He meets you in a deep kiss, but he grips your hips firmly, sliding deeper into your clenching pussy at his own content pace, groaning into your mouth at how hot and wet you are. So tight, so so tight, that he can’t stop the juvenile thought about being sure you were a virgin from flitting through his mind, but he lets it go, not about to sully this experience for you with his own pussy drunk stupidity, closing his eyes and falling deeper into the kiss, forcing you to slow it and calm down for him, echoing your whimpers with tiny groans of encouragement.

His thrusts are as steady and measured as they can be with the way your walls suck him in, pussy lips stretched wide around the thicker middle of his shaft. Every time he pulls out he can feel the way your body is trying not to let him go, and every sink home is accompanied by a shaky little exhale from you that sets a fire so deep in his gut that Kishibe is sure the whiskey is the only reason he hasn’t fallen to pieces yet. You’re so pretty and needy sprawled about beneath him, so sunk to pleasure that you’ve resigned to just taking what he gives you and it’s addictive. His cock throbs as he listens to your mumbled little slurs about how good it feels, and he has to pause, breathing deep and hard as he wills down a sudden and fierce urge fill you with cum.

Kishibe chuckles as he sits up and you let out a whine of disapproval, but a slow roll of his hips changes your tune immediately. You’re sucking him in greedily, your clit swollen and damn near begging for attention. He brushes it gently with the back of his knuckles, hissing as you squeeze him in response, getting impossibly wetter around his length. “Doing so good for me, how are you feeling?”

“More, want more.” It’s barely intelligible with how breathless you are, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes down your temples. Your face is so sweet, so open, trusting and needy and suddenly Kishibe can’t find it in himself to draw it out on you any longer, is done handing out pleasure piece by piece, as if he were passing out candy to savor. He wants to pour pleasure over you, wants you to drown in it, to fall so deeply into it that there’s nowhere to surface to, lost in an endless sea.

One strong arm slides under your hips and pulls you up into a better position, fingers digging into your hip as Kishibe begins to fuck you in quick, steady strokes. His forehead is pressed to your chest, cheek in plush of your breast as he controls his groans, a dark satisfaction choking out the last tendrils of guilt as your fingers desperately weave their way back into his hair once more, cradling his head tightly to your chest. There’s no more irritation; the sharp sting feels like a fucking prize, knowing that the price is an overwhelming pleasure that he can feel through you. You feel so good around him, responding so well to his movements, angling your own hips and moving back into his thrusts, that he can’t stop a continuous stream of curses and praises from melting into your skin.

“You’re doing so fucking good for me sweetheart, so good. Squeezing me so tight, wrapped around me so perfect. You feel good? Everything you fucking wanted, hm?” He bites at the flesh of your chest as you tighten around his dick, goosebumps rising visibly across your skin.

You feel like a live current, so electric and buzzing with energy and it feels like there’s nowhere for it to go, zipping up and down your body only to return, shivering and sparking deep in your belly. You try to articulate that this is way more than you ever thought you could ask for, but all that comes out are bitten hiccups of his name and yes and please please please.

Kishibe is more than happy to oblige, grunting and groaning in his throat, way past the point of feeling guilty that you’re losing your virginity on a goddamn couch, too caught up in your drunken slurs, more from pleasure than whiskey.

He grins as your fingers clench around his bicep, scrabbling as you gasp out, "Ohh, nngh—Sir wait, wait! Please I'm gonna—" 

"Go ahead, sweetheart." Kishihe groans, feeling the rippling constrictions of your sweet pussy drag him closer to the edge.

"No, I'm—I'm gonna pee! Please." 

Kishibe’s s head picks up off your chest immediately, and his thrusts stuffer. "Yeah?" You watch panting as his eyes sharpen, hips coming to a full blessed stop. You feel a bare moment of relief before its ripped away and he's moving again, fucking you a little faster than before. "Then go ahead." 

You give a wordless cry, shame and pleasure clamoring in the shrill note, your head shaking back and forth in denial. You can't hold it, not if he does that. 

"No?" Kishibe feels like the Devil himself as he shifts his angle into a grind, still fast and controlled, watching your features twist as you keep fighting to hold it back. "Am I not making you feel good?" 

"Sir!" Your whine draws the title out, panicked, but your knees dig tightly into his hips, your body at least betraying you. Kishibe works a hand under one of your thighs and presses it towards your chest. One of his palms drags down over your tits, stroking down your stomach to put a gentle pressure over your pelvis. Your eyes fly wide and a moan is forced from your lips as the awful urgency thickens, bliss flooding close to the surface. 

"If I press here you won't be able to stop it." 

Kishibe's stare catches your glazed eyes, dark and hungry. His orgasm is approaching steadily now, pleasure whispering selfish instruction in his ear, and he's unable to help but listen. "You'll come so hard it won't matter anymore. What's a little mess for some pleasure, hm sweetheart? If you want it just tell me." 

Your breath catches. His dick keeps hitting that spot in you that makes it impossible to think rationally. He's making you feel so good, goading you in that voice of his that you've worshipped fervently night after night in your apartment, a pillow as your altar. 

The voice in your head is screaming no. It's pee. He'll think you're disgusting and you look up to him so much. You don't want him to associate you with something like this, to so thoroughly debase yourself. But he's making you feel amazing, his cock bullying all your softest parts with undefinable experience. You've heard the gossip about how your mentor likes to spend his nights, but how are you supposed to complain when he's making you feel like this? And he's the one saying you can p— 

"Get outta yer fucking head and come for me, girl." Kishibe growls through his teeth, palm pressing down firmly, calloused thumb spreading over your neglected clit. 

You shatter and cry out, clutching at him tightly, no room for apologies as you tear red lines down his back. Warmth gushes against his pelvis, but the hot shame holds no candle to the blistering pleasure crackling across all your nerves. Listening to Kishibe groan and curse, the feel of him breaking down into something more genuine as his hips snap roughly into yours in chase of the bliss you’re already neck deep in, you’ve never felt more satisfied. He finishes inside you with a deep grunt and your insides flutter again at the milky warmth, your leg curling tight around his ass because you want all of it, you don’t want it to end yet.

But finally, his cock twitches one last time inside you and begins to soften, and Kishibe collapses on top of you with a little puff. You’re damn near ready to purr in happiness at the full weight of him across your body. His cheek rests between your breasts, but you’re unbothered by the scratch of his stubble as his breathing gets deeper, steadier.

Both of you are covered in sweat, cum, and other unspeakables but you’ve never been so comfortable. His softened cock slips out of you, and one of his arms slips under your waist and you feel your heart thud unevenly as he moves to his side and pulls you closer. His head is still buried in your chest, your one leg tangled between his thighs and your other draped over his hip. His eyes are closed, breathing deep and you find it in yourself to cautiously run your fingers through his hair. Kishibe gives a soft, sleepy rumble of contentment and you glow.

The feel of his hair between your fingers is the last thing you remember before the most luxurious drag of sleep tempts you into its clutch of darkness.

You wake somewhere you don’t recognize, your head thick and pounding awfully. You blink slowly in the low lighting and try to sit up, but your head spins and the pain increases so you let yourself fall back with a low whimper.

You turn on your side, fingers curling into the soft covers over you. Last night had been amazing, but you’re certain you had passed out on on the couch, and as you peer around the curtain-darkened room, it’s easy to tell it’s not the same. You don’t remember being moved; you’d like to say you would have woken up if someone had, but even you can smell the alcohol seeping from your pores. 

Heart pounding unevenly, you try to calm yourself. You’d been dressed in a soft pair of boxer briefs and a tshirt far too large for you, and while you still feel a little bit sticky, you honestly had expected far worse—someone had tried to clean you up. Your heart starts to race now, fluttering and far too fast at the idea of Kishibe taking care of you. Those are a lot of extra steps to take for someone who preached respectable distance. 

“There’s painkillers on the nightstand.”

You finally manage to sit up at the promise of pain relief, seeing the foil tablets and a glass of water, and glance at Kishibe in the doorway, looking about as disheveled as you expect you do. He’s in a loose tshirt and a soft, worn looking pair of sleep pants, blinking sleep and liquor from his eyes as he peers in at you. 

“I’m gonna shower, you should too. There’s towels in the bathroom there.” He nods his head deeper into your room and you see another doorway, probably leading to the bathroom. “And you’re out of luck on breakfast. All the place has is coffee and water.”

Your stomach gives a displeased turn at that, desperate for something to offset last night’s alcohol. Before you can say anything, not even so much as a thank you, Kishibe turns and shuffles down the hall. 

Slowly, you ease out of the bed and gratefully swallow down half the water before even glancing at the pills, but your screaming head does make sure you toss them back as well, before you peek down the hallway your mentor had disappeared down. You hear the sound of running water and follow it, wandering through the doorway to the room he obviously slept in last night, the bed an unkempt mess of blankets. The door to the bathroom is closed, and there’s already steam filtering through the gaps.

Letting an uncharacteristic determination carry you forward, you open the door and begin stripping off your clothes.

“Get out, sweetheart.” Kishibe’s voice sounds tired and distant, filling you with nerves that you refuse to let show on your face as you ignore him slip into the shower.

He’s working soap through his hair, leveling you with a deeply unimpressed look that would have sent you skittering before last night, before he called you his sweet little mess, before he called you good fucking girl. You take a deep breath and speak your mind.

"I want that again." 

His response is flat, immediate. "Not gonna happen." 

"Why not? Was it not good?" You look embarrassed and distraught at the thought and Kishibe heaves a sigh. 

"How good it was has nothin’ to do with why we can't do this again." 

“So you regret it?”

Kishibe isn’t sure where he stands on that yet. “Didn’t say that.”

"But then..." 

"But what? I told you this was a bad idea didn't I? You should've chosen someone else. Anyone other than me." 

You get a little salty at that. "I might be younger than you," Kishibe gives a sardonic huff "—but I'm still old enough to make decisions for myself." 

"Old enough to make your own decisions, huh." 

You shift under the water as he gives you a tired stare, his gaze sharpening into something more contemplative, glinting dangerously. 

"So you're saying you want that again?" Kishibe questions calmly. 

"Yes," you whisper, uncaring if it makes you sound desperate. 

"If we do I've got some stipulations," he warns, voice low.

"Like what," your breath hitches as he leans closer, the water getting hotter against your back as he reaches past you to adjust the temperature. 

"Well for starters," he grumbles, "I don't have any interest in going to your place. It's here or nothing." 

"Fine." Your response is immediate, relief coloring your tone that you're not being immediately shut out. 

"And this arrangement will be temporary, no matter how long it goes on," Kishibe continues slowly, his fingers coming up to pinch your lips together, cutting off whatever you were opening your mouth to say. "I'm not the kind of man that would treat ya like you're nothin'. I'm gonna tell you you're sexy when I've got you under me and I'm gonna clean up whatever mess I make of you, so I need to know you're not going to confuse common decency and respect with love, got it?" 

You nod slowly, struggling to wrap your mind around the weight of his words. What he doesn't know won't hurt him, you just want more of whatever you can get. It's just a crush, maybe you'll figure out how to squash your feelings somewhere down the line. So you get a little hurt along the way, so what? You're not entirely sure how any of that is a problem and why he looks so serious.

"Anything else?" He hasn't spoken for a minute, but you can still see deep thought etched into his expression.

Kishibe glances at you, soap dripping from his hair down his neck. "Yeah, one more thing."

It's the most damning thing. Makima herself would be proud of him for this. This kind of thing is more her style, but he's already made it this far. 

"Ya have to join the civilian sector."

He senses more than feels you stiffen behind him, closing his eyes and beginning to rinse his hair out as he waits for you to speak first. He's not blind, not anymore—after last night he'd really have to be to not understand the way you've been looking at him, probably since the beginning. Kishibe doesn't know how he didn't see it sooner, probably willful ignorance. But his eyes have been opened and he can't unsee it; you're a brat; you wear your heart on your sleeve, and for whatever reason…its flag is flying his colors. So he's going to use that, and you can thank him when you survive the year.

"Join the civilian sector?" Your voice trembles.

Kishibe glances down to see you chewing your lower lip. "Or quit. Find a cozy desk job somewhere. Either works."

"Why?" Your demand is fierce but it's weak; you look like a scruffy little kitten that needs shelter but too scared to come out of the rain. Kishibe can see you crumbling already, making his final stab. Why you'd want him this bad is beyond him, but dirty tactics have never been beneath him. 

"If we're doin’ this, you're going to be available to me when I want you. Otherwise I can find others, like I've been doing. Finish up in here, and I'll make some coffee. Might as well go to the office together."

Despair crosses your features, and Kishibe lets the silence do the last of the work, stepping out of the stream and reaching for a towel. He makes quick work of drying off and getting dressed, bones aching for coffee. Curiosity pangs deep in his nerves as he wonders why killing yourself in Public Safety is even worth that expression, and why he’s equally as important as whatever it is. He tries to put it out of his mind and fails, fingers tapping on the expensive countertop.

As the coffee percolates, Kishibe hears the water shut off and the mental image of you stepping out of his shower flickers through his mind, ghosting along the memories of the way you felt beneath him last night. He tries and fails to admit to himself he’s not coming out entirely on top in this situation.

When you finally slip into his kitchen, dressed in your crumpled uniform from last night, you’re no longer wearing that brokenhearted little face, and Kishibe braces himself for whatever little pep talk you managed to give yourself while he was gone. He pushes a mug towards you and the sugar he somehow found while he was waiting. 

“I have my own stipulations,” you grumble finally, accepting the mug without looking at him, spooning sugar into it. He wants to wince at the shriek of metal on glass as you stir, but he doesn’t.

“If I have to quit the hunter society to be ‘available to you’, then you have to be available to me.” Your eyes are a little heated as they finally meet his, and Kishibe gives a noncommittal hum. “Meaning you don’t get to sleep around. Just with me.”

Ah. Makima would be proud of you too, Kishibe muses to himself. He decides to let you feel that victory and puts on a show, feigning annoyance. He drums his fingers on the counter and gives you a dry, measured look. “What, sweetheart, want me to get tested or something?”

You rise to his bait, snapping a little. “Maybe that’s a good idea.”

“Fine.” He shrugs and sips his coffee. “Maybe you should too, since you’re so worried about my health.”

Embarrassment burns your cheeks at the thought of making that appointment, but you push through it. “Fine, I will. I’ll be needing to get on birth control anyways.” The barest hint of shock flickers through his expression before he slams it back to its usual tired smirk.

“Anything else?” He asks, sarcasm barely kissing the edge of his tone.

Your thoughts scramble to all the things you’d listed to yourself in the shower but with him looking at you like that, bemused, confident, smug, you forget most of them. You latch onto one thing and give him a glare. “I get a key. And I can sleep here whenever I want. I’m not waiting outside in the cold to be your booty call.”

Kishibe gives you a look and starts to pull a pen out of his jacket but changes his mind. He watches all the bravado and irritation drain from your expression as he steps into your space, melting into something else, something expectant, electric. He pretends he doesn’t see it, pretends that his blood doesn’t pick up at the sight of it, and whispers the passcode to the apartment, so close to your ear that he could bite it. Could.

He pulls back and listens to your shuddering exhale, tilting your chin towards him. “That’s for you only. I don’t give people access to my personal space, got it?”

You nod dumbly, eyes wide and body hot as his dark eyes flicker to your lips.

“Then I guess we gott’a deal, sweetheart.”

[pupyuj]

7th member and g!p wonyoung where rumors run around a lot that you and wonyoung don't get along well because you really can't look each in the eye and doesn't interact that much but in reality, you can't look at her in the eye because you're too shy after she fucked your brains out last night and you won't interact that much on cam because wony know that she'll just end up getting a boner and might just consider bending you over right there and then 🥰🥰🥰

sndbdjcncdk i love getting g!p wony asks it's my favorite thing 😩😩😩 it's so obvious that i got way too into this i'm sorry i'm an ive girl through and through .

ya'll know i love giving these things a little backstory and some build-up so... it was just supposed to be a cute little hook-up between you and your favorite dorm mate 😳 the two of you have just come home from a party, giggling and whispering flirty things to each other while you stumbled inside your shared dorm... hands touching and groping anywhere and passing it off as a joke but the next thing you knew you were making out on the couch with wony on top 😵‍💫 she was grinding and humping, needing relief for her cock bcs she has stared at you all night and wanted nothing more but to fuck you, not at all giving a damn about the consequences 🫣 needless to say, you absolutely did get fucked very good, too good maybe, on that couch (and in her bed right after)! you fell asleep in peace thinking that everything will be fine the next morning.. but oh, no they weren't 😬

suddenly you couldn't talk to each other like normal friends 😭 only a few words were shared between the two of you since that night, and you only looked at each other when it was absolutely necessary 😭😭 ofc the fans would notice it very quickly bcs all of your habits around each other have changed :( you used to sit very close to each other all the time, but now you're on opposite sides when the group is doing a live or smth 💔 on top of all that, you stopped talking about each other on fancafes, bubble, etc... it was a bit heartbreaking actually, it was like witnessing a friendship breakup in real time 😭😭 no selfies tgt, no random moments of each other on your individual instas, no reports of a 2 am convenience store run... oh, the (y/n) x wonyoung shippers were in the trenches during this time 😩 (annyeongz shooters can relate—)

and then it gets to a point where it was blown out of proportion online 😬 articles being made, think pieces being written about the current state of your friendship... there was a viral clip of you seemingly side-eyeing wonyoung and acting like a bitch behind her back... which your fans fought everybody to hell for bcs they knew you loved her more than anything 🥹🥹

it was yujin who took notice of this.. thing between you guys ofc and cornered the two of you one day, telling you to get your act together and sort your problems out bcs it was affecting the group dynamic too 💔 apparently jiwon was feeling guilty bcs it was now her that you took to those midnight strolls, and rei always felt like she was 'homewrecking' whenever wonyoung was affectionate with her and not you 😭😭😭 coming home after getting scolded by your leader, the two of you sitting on that very same couch where you fucked, awkward and silent...

"i miss you." it was her that broke the silence. that was really all it took for you to jump in her arms and hug her tightly :(( wony was your best friend, the one who knows all your secrets, the one who remembers every single funny moment in your childhood and reminds you of it to cheer you up, the one who always wiped your tears away when you cried — it hurt to not get along with her 💔💔 "we don't have to make that whole thing be such a bad thing... we can just laugh about it, and... and—" wonyoung looks at you, at your soft smile while you cupped her cheeks in your hands, at your lips (she remembers hoe you kissed her that night), at your body and the way you looked like you belong right on her lap... "and we can just do it again.. and again... over and over..." she says boldly. well that certainly caught you off guard, but who were you to say no?

the two of you were really just supposed to talk, but now wony has you bent over the couch, her hips slapping against your ass while her dick slammed deeper and deeper by the second inside you... your cunt fit perfectly around her cock, it was an almost hypnotizing feeling fucking you 😵‍💫 wony thrusting faster, getting bursts of energy every time you moaned her name... then she's right up in your ear, "w-we... we won't need to leave the dorm when we're bored anymore... we can just fuck.. all the time... does that sound appealing enough, baby?" she was asking.

you nodded, "yes, y-yes, wonyoung... ahh.. mhmm..! i'll always be ready for you... just say the word.. or better yet, just f-fucking... shitshit... just grab me and fuck me... i love your cock.. i love it..." you were convinced that there wasn't a better feeling in the world that getting fucked by your gorgeous best friend, and there really wasn't!

shdbfjfksf wony turning you around so she could look at your face while she pounded into you :((( you were so pretty to her, she will never regret fucking you that night 🤤🤤 deliberately clenching around her cock, smiling at the way it only made her pound you faster — you can't get enough of each other 😵‍💫 kissing as you both came, feeling absolutely at bliss while her cum filled up your cunt... she definitely breeded you all night, she had to make up for lost time! 😉 filled you up on her bed, the showers, on her bed again after showering, even when you slept she was fucking into you... just dumping all of her seed in you bcs she missed you so muchhh :((( and yeah you get your revenge bcs when wony woke up the next morning and she looked down, you winked at her with her cock deep down your throat... and then you rode her until she was a drooling, babbling mess...

sorry did i mention that you guys are just fucking insane? right after that, you were cockwarming her while the two of you had breakfast, then wony was feeling you up impatiently while you washed the dishes, then you were fucking on the couch again while the morning news was on... and you ended up getting ten missed calls from yujin that entire morning bcs wony got very, very busy spilling every drop of her cum inside your pussy AND YET....... it was never enough 🥵🥵🥵

did you ever get off her cock that whole day? probably not... but hey, it did wonders for your friendship!

fans now see that the two of you were closer than ever! back to being jokey around each other, wony now always had an arm wrapped around your waist and you were always combing her hair with your fingers bcs you knew it eased her, and ofc you grew more affectionate towards each other! maybe a bit too much.. but it was wayyy better than when you pretended like the other didn't exist 🤭🤭

see, what they all don't know is after that very fun and loud live at the practice room, wony fucked you to hell in one of those secluded rooms in the company building, making you see the stars while you came all over her cock 😵‍💫 yeah that hook-up was a blessing alright...

[stormblessed95]

Watching Are You Sure?! EP 7

A reminder of how I do these reaction posts as I watch things. I just write my reactions and thoughts down literally they happen. Think more of a bullet point format. I'll include links when I can to videos, thanks to the people who twt who upload clips. And at the end, I'll do a better wrap up of all my opinions. I hope everyone enjoyed the show so far!!

Not this show starting off with a mistaken identity trip!! Lol Jimin saying that he only went snowboarding once before and it was with JK. And JK was so confused. You could see him searching the files in his brain lmfao. Jimin's oh wait! I went with your friends 😂😂 okay, just hanging out with JKs friends on your own? It's giving couple. I can't lie. I'm sorry. What in the best friend?! 😂😂 I loved the facial expressions and the way Jimin buried his face into Jungkookie there too

Jimin listening to hate you. And JKs why are you listening to that? Jimin: because I like it 😳 lmao I agree Jimin, it was abrupt 😂😂

Their appreciation for their crew is 😍😍

Jk dozing off to Jimin's softly singing. It's giving the same vibes as that one run episode that he dozed off to Jimin's ASMR. Idk what that's giving exactly.... But it's giving *something* and you know what it is

"this is our last moment of relaxation. I love it" 😭

Not JK just chopping at his hair like that. Oh baby lol don't look at me like this is my fault!! It's okay, fucking up your hair and needing to make it much shorter than originally planned is a life right of passage lol

Not JKs haircut transporting Jimin back in time 10 years 😂😂😂

The staff giggling and immediately taking photos 😂 BTS are their babies lol

Jimin hurting himself and shouting oh shit 😂😂 the subtitles trying to sensor him without bleeping his actual words 😂🤣 subtitles should be accurate above all else people! Cmon! Lol

Jimin moaning and groaning while transferring tubs, sitting on the edge, etc and JK just looks like he is enjoying the show the whole time. There is so much ass on display in the shorts they are wearing in this whole scene. Where is the decorum?! Lol!

Turning off the cameras to shower together before the Jacuzzi. Very innocent, but sounds like it could be so not 🤣😂

JKs faces when trying to handle to cold tub 😂😂

"feel how cold I am" better translated to "just hug me once" and the immediate hug and the hand placement to feel the cold? Yeah okay 🤣

Anyone remember the emojis over the barest slips of tummy during anything? Now they are showing them wash themselves and rub their own muscles in a cold tub and show off flexing to the camera. What the fuck Hybe 🤣🤣🤣

Soundproof Sauna to their matching PJs and eating a whole feast 🥰

The way they giggle together is my favorite thing

JK watching Jimin making his this crab is so good video so endeared 🥰😂😍

Jimin insisted on JK trying the shrimp too because it was so amazing instead of eating the last of the shrimp even though he loved it so much. And JK sharing half his urchin with Jimin because it was so yummy. Cute. They are so precious to each other

Jimin wants seconds, JK says it's a bad idea. They order seconds 😂😂😂

I both love and hate watching them eat. Because I think watching people eat is gross and I stand by that. Lol but they love it so much and look so happy, I also just enjoy seeing them enjoy themselves. It's a complicated mix of emotions I experience 😂

The trend continues of brushing their teeth together. Jimin, the mischief maker, kicks JK during their teeth brushing?? Lol and takes a selfie of them too. Share it please?

"I'm going to pass out after this, especially if we get massages" JK " we are getting massages?!" No lmfao you silly goose, that was 100% Jimin hinting at wanting a massage 😂🤣😂🤣

Not them being super sleepy, yet still annoying each other on purpose by flashing lights at each other 😂

Jimin asking JK if he is too hot, probably knowing already he gets too hot at night. But instead of changing the temperature when he did wake up too hot, knowing Jimin was comfy with how it was, JK just moved to the living room. And Jimin waking him up by so softly petting his head 🥺🥺🥺

Are they advertising sunscreen? Lol it worked. I wanted to go get some 😂😂

Jimin fighting for his LIFE in the shower. Wtf was happening?!! Lmao and JK finishing up his breakfast before going into the bathroom to shower while Jimin was still in the shower it sounded like. Lol ALRIGHT. Hope you both enjoyed said shower I guess 😅😂🤣

Why are we play fighting while getting dressed boys?! Lmao

Jimin starting a pretend photoshoot with the ski jacket and gear. Absolutely, yes please

Jimin is such a good boyfriend bringing JKs jacket back out to him

Jimin just enjoying sitting in the car while JK goes in to order 😂😂 good for him! JK telling him he only ordered food for himself and none for Jimin, only to say "here is our food" when it arrived 😂 what a jokester lol

Jimin feeding Jungkook while he is driving 🥺

Jimin joking about an AYS OST. Please please please give it to us though for real

Singing random love songs for a game! Where JK interrupted Jimin singing the line "the person I love is gone" to sing "I love you" three times lol okay got it

The way JK always stops to just stare at Jimin until he gets his reaction to whatever he is doing or wearing is always so cute. Especially because he always smiles so cutely after Jimin gives him his desired compliment 💜❤️

JK adjusting Jimin's googles for him 🥺

The way that JK checks in on Jimin first to make sure he is actually okay before teasing him about being scared lol it's sweet and cute

The hysterical cut of JK shredding down the slope to Jimin laying in the snow 😂😂😂😂 Jimin and his staff member literally falling over each other 🤣🤣🤣 I'm dying lmao!

Jimin ditching his helmet with how often he falls is stressing me out lmfao he looks gorgeous though!

Skiing would be fun too he says, turning to Jimin with a hopefully sparkle in his eyes that he knows Jimin can't say no to. Camera cuts to them on skis 😂 JK, I love and adore you. Never change

Wrap up thoughts:

They showered/bathed together 3 times in one episode and thats insane. Lmao whatever guys 😂 this was just an excellent episode showcasing their closeness, their intimacy, their silliness, their individuality and their soft spoken nature with each other. It showed the way they consistently consider each other, what the other wants and needs. I don't think I have anything to expand on from what I've already said above. I really loved this episode. Fully plan on the last episode making me cry.

All purple links in my post go back to @dstdes with video clips of the moment being talked about. I did use a few twitter clips as well, sorry. Thanks for reading!

[dinandash]

Not slime tutorial :(

Hey everyone!

I have been made aware (kindly and rudely) that sharing a bootleg link after the tutorial has already been leaked leads to more bad than it does good. I have therefore taken down the post I made originally.

Once the NFT date passes (january 5th) I will share it privately with people who ask (and will be willing to trade). that's also the date I'm gonna be posting the edits I make with it since that's the date that it becomes more public.

I can't speak for everyone who shared the boot but I sincerely apologize since I did not realise what kind of effect sharing this could have. I'm a bit sceptical about actors suing people who filmed it since they have been seen commenting and interacting with bootleg clips multiple times, but because it is apperantly a possibility I do not want to risk being the cause of that.

I think we should all be able to enjoy our favorite musicals, even remotely, but sadly that's not how it works in reality. Therefore I will respect the makers wishes and suspend sharing the bootleg until after the NFT date.

I am autistic and a lot of times struggle with seeing consecuenses or knowing what things my actions can cause. I am aware of this and am working on it. However this is not an excuse and I should have read more into it. My lack of knowlegde and my inability to oversee the future caused me to unknowingly cause harm to people.

I once again apologize for any inconvenience caused and if there's anything I missed in this apology or that I need to change please do let me know.

To everyone that reached out to me to kindly inform me why what I did was hurtful and what kinds of things it can cause: Thank you a lot and I really appericiate all of you. I was not aware of what sharing bootlegs could do and now I am. A sincere thank all of you again because you took the time to inform me on why what I did was wrong instead of jumping to conclusions.

I want to give a particulair big thank you to one tumblr user who took their time to in depth explain to me why what I did was wrong and the impact it had/could have. I cannot for the life of me remember their user but you know who you are <3

To everyone who decided to attack me for sharing it: Fuck you too <3 (Not in a mean way but also you could have just not done that)

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

Actually, one of the first things I thought of when learning that Liam had passed away was that he was Nora’s favorite. Liam to me was never the most interesting member of all the 1D lads but the way Nora talked about him on every single album had me appreciating him way more. I do think some of his qualities, both musically and personally, were a bit overlooked during the band.

This makes me want to relisten to the 1D related Every Single Album episodes anon.

I've just finished listening to the latest Every Single Album, and I enjoyed hearing more of Nora's perspective. I liked how expansive they were with what they talked about, the way that they emphasised the importance of 1D culturally and musically, and that they started by putting it in the context of fame.

As always it gives a sense of how differently people understand celebrities. I really want to interrogate Nathan about the idea that it's Taylor Swift's work ethic saved her. I think there might actually be an argument there (which is bascially - the fact that she always needed to work meant she always had people with her, and the hardest part of fame is the isolation from others in time), but it reminded me how easy it is to draw obviously untrue causation lines from success to wellbeing. When they basically asked 'is Harry Styles too dumb to be fucked up by fame?' I thought 'here are people who are less obsessed with what Harry has said to and about his therapist than I am.

*********

I'm going to articulate something that has been rolling round my brain, and which I haven't said yet. She mentioned again the clip about being locked in their rooms. Each time I've heard it, I've thought how much I think fans missed the point when they use that as proof of the evil of management. And I do think it's important to talk about the way the music industry is profiting is suffering in that example.

But by focusing on (or pretending to focus on) and literalising the quote (I've never been in a hotel room that you can lock people into). Fans miss the point - what was it that 1D was being protected from? Why couldn't they just go outside? How could 1D have been kept both safe and free while touring?

There seems within fandom a real unwillingness to look at the fact that was our actions that did harm. I'm sure the decisions by people with power did harm. It may not fully be that Eric Andre meme, but there is an element of it. Fans damaged Liam. Fans trapped him in his room with just a minibar. The damage was a result of aspects that were central to what fans love - they weren't avoidable just if better people were in charge.

I sometimes think that fandom's rush to blame someone is a way of avoiding the role we played.

[heartfullofleeches]

"Bubby!"

Community spouse- How ever did they come up with such a brilliant name?

As hard as you may deny or laugh off the title, there was merit to the claim. Rain or shine, you were always there when your friends needed you. Some went so far as to have you as their emergency contact, others a shoulder to lend on. On birthdays, your messages were the first many would receive, and during the holidays not one person felt left out with your thoughtful presents and dedication to the case. Your efforts were expressly noted by those lonely hearts this Valentine's day, when you'd handcrafted them baskets filled of their favorite sweets and hand written cards. The addition of "from your dear friend" could've been left out for some, but they'd take what they could get.

Even now, the needs of others prioritize over your own. You pry yourself free from the arms at your neck to pass off the gift you had purchased for the one you all gathered here for, willfully letting yourself to be crushed in your friend's embrace once the task is completed. So close together. Like lovers. You greet them with a brisk kiss, your lips posed on their cheek for no more than a second. They lean to catch them with their own as you pull away, but by now you've wisened to their attempts.

"I have a name, you know." Your first addition to the conversation. It's easier to call out the lesser offense than air out their disregard for your personal space in front of everyone. Your tone is jovial and playful. Always one to defuse stressful situations, but never when you were at the center. If you kept it up they knew they'd wear you down eventually.

Just a little more.

"Awwwwe" They mewl; cheeks puffed, smile drooping as they card their fingers through the thin strands of hair at the base of your neck. "I can't give my cute little spouse a cute nickname? I ordered a cake for us to share too."

A snicker comes from across the table. The salt shaker rattles as someone else brings their foot down on the originator's foot.

"So - Y/n, you're coming out with us this weekend to celebrate my graduation still right?"

The change in atmosphere is almost palpable. "Won't miss it for anything else. Just let me know the time and location."

There's tug on your arm, nails clipping your skin through the layers of clothing meant to shield you.

"And you're still gonna be my date, riiiight? Since the last one bailed on me, and you're too good a friend to let me stay out by myself?"

"Yeah...I said I would, didn't I? Excuse me-" You rest your hand over theirs as you stand, peeling it from your shoulder as you walk off. Their eyes follow you as you depart - feigning innocence to the accusatory gazes pointed in their direction. You held their hand. It's really does like you're an old married couple sometimes. If only you weren't so difficult - then they wouldn't have to go to such great lengths to make you theirs. Your friend takes a drink of water as they turn back to the rest of the group.

"You're disgusting."

"Pardon?" They grab a napkin and dab at their face. "The waitress said their were no straws left, so I had no choice but you're right. Who knows if they clean their glasses properly."

"I'm talking about them. The way you throw yourself at Y/n is repulsive and won't make them like you anymore than the rest of us. They're nice to you because that's how they are and not because they're in love with you. You're their friend. If your little stunt doesn't work this weekend and they don't like you as you so claim, I'll fucking kill you myself-"

"It will work. Y/n loves me- Even if they don't now they will eventually. This attitude is why none of you will ever see them again once we're together. I can give them everything, while all you do is take. If you really don't think we'll be a perfect match, I can always show them those little notes from your messages and we can see their opinion on you is afterwards."

[prettyinlimegreenboots]

Taking Comfort (In Your Arms) - Chapter 1

May 14, 1943

Adelaide Baker knew it was going to be a good day, maybe even a great day as she climbed the steps to Clearup Tower. The sun was actually shining out in merry ole England today and she was actually in a good mood. Her hair was actually cooperating with her today and she had her favorite breakfast, waffles this morning.

Humming along to “Blue Skies”, she pulled open the heavy door, quickly made her way inside, pausing to tap her fingers against Josie, her best friend’s desk as she passed. Josie looked up and shot her a wink before getting back to work. She and Josie had been best friends since they were children and when she was transferred to Thorpe Abbotts, Josie made the trek with her and now they worked together daily, side by side.

As she neared her own desk, she noticed an older, tall gentleman standing near her desk, reading a report, awaiting her arrival. Dropping her purse on her desk, she gave him a curious look. “Colonel, what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you here at my desk so early this morning?” A bright smile on her face, she slipped off her coat, placing it on the back of her chair.

Taking a sip of coffee, the Colonel grinned seeing the bright eyed lady standing in front of him. “I need you to do something for me, Captain. We have a new Air Exec coming in from Greenland today before his men arrive in a few weeks. Can you show him around and help him adjust to the lay of the land around here?”

“And you’re asking me to show him around? A step up in the man’s world huh, Colonel?” She smirked, shaking her head. “What time does he land?”

Placing the coffee cup on her desk, he flipped through the papers in his hand, studying them intently before looking at her. “He’s due to arrive at 1300 at hardstand 4. My recommendation would be to first stop at the mess before making the rounds.”

“Noted.” She made herself a note, scribbling on a spare piece of paper. “Anything else?”

A full belly laugh escaped her father’s mouth as he shook his head and broke through the military facade. “Major Egan won’t know what hit him when he meets you, Ads. You'll handle all of his requests?”

“Of course. I’ll make sure the boy has everything he needs to be the best Air Exec he can be. Any chance you have any reading material on him?” Cocking an eyebrow, Addie gave her father a look.

“Want to know what you’re getting yourself into Adelaide?” Nudging around some papers on her desk, he held up a folder with a photograph paper clipped to the front. “I’m sure this is what you’re looking for. Remember 1300.”

“Just want to know what he’s about before I spend a few hours with him. I’ll be on the tarmac at 1250 sharp eagerly awaiting his arrival.” The sarcasm dripped off her tongue as her father shook his head.

He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Behave Adelaide and I’ll see you later for dinner. Have a good day, you as well Josie.” Mock saluting him, she took a seat, watching him walk back to his own office.

“Well that’s an exciting way to start the day.” Josie’s amused voice called as she looked over at her.

Rolling her eyes, Addie shook her head. “Have you heard what everyone is saying about the Major?”

“Yes and they’re just rumors. No one has met the man, including your own father. I’d wait to meet him before you start believing rumors.” Josie shrugged. “Who knows, you might just fall in love with him.”

Scoffing, Addie’s eyes went wide before adamantly shaking her head. “No, no, no. After the catastrophe in Wisconsin, this heart is locked away.”

“You are allowed to have some fun, Addie. No one is telling you to stay guarded and locked hearted. You’re young, and after the last year, you should cut loose and have some fun. All we want for you is to be happy, however that looks.” Josie smiled sympathetically at her best friend.

Sighing, Addie took in her best friend’s words. The last year had been hell and her dreams were gone in an instant, leaving her with an unexpected future. She thought she would fly the big birds until the war was over and before she knew it, her hopes and dreams went up in smoke.

Addie looked at her watch, it was just after 0900 and she had a pile of papers in front of her that weren’t going to file themselves. She gave Josie a bright smile before getting to work, pushing the Major out of her mind until she actually needed to worry about him.

After being pulled into a few unexpected meetings, the morning passed by quickly for Addie. Before she knew it it was 1245. She quickly grabbed the paperwork necessary and a set of keys that were left on her desk. Hearing the door slam behind her, she quickly made her way down the tower steps, tilting her head back enjoying the sunshine on her face before making her way to the awaiting jeep. Jumping the engine, she grinned hearing the jeep roar to life before pulling out and speeding down the tarmac.

Pulling to a stop on the grass adjacent to the hardstand, she took a deep breath, feeling the light breeze ruffle her hair. She watched the ground crew prep the hardstand for the impending bird’s arrival.

“Miss Addie, you’re a sight for sore eyes.” Lemmons called out, as there were a few wolf whistles from the crew around him.

When she first arrived on base, she was happy to see some familiar faces, including Lemmons who was one that she had seen at Rattlesden when she would deliver planes there. The two had formed a friendship and she was excited to see him when she landed at Thorpe Abbotts.

Laughing, she stepped out of the jeep, thankful she wore flats today. “You tell that to all the pretty girls, Lemmons. You keeping these boys in line?”

“Trying to - it’s a hard task that someone has to do.” He replied back laughing as all the guys around him protested.

She heard the familiar roar of a B-17 as it approached. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she looked up following its path as it made a smooth landing. Watching as the bird, Saving Grace, came to a stop, she smiled. She had always loved the big birds and loved flying them.

Pushing off the jeep, she watched as the hatch opened, several gentlemen stumbling out attempting to get their balance after being in the air for so long. She instantly recognized Major Egan from his photograph and walked over to him, calling, “Major Egan.”

He whirled around hearing his name called, not expecting a pretty girl to be the one calling his name. He had to stop his jaw from dropping when he took her in. “Yes? And you can call me Bucky.”

“Bucky? Well, I’m Captain Adelaide Baker and I’m here to show you around.” She held out her hand as he gripped it, giving it a shake. Bucky was a rather odd nickname but she didn’t think much of it as she’d definitely heard odder nicknames during her time with the ATAs. “Do you have everything?”

“I’m a light packer.” She motioned for him to follow her to the awaiting jeep, him getting in before giving her a look. “Didn’t know I was special enough for an escort?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Bucky, the brass wanted to make sure you felt a warm welcome to Thorpe Abbotts. Something about not wanting to scare you away before your men come over.”

“Well, so far I feel really welcome.” He chuckled as a flush crossed her cheeks. “And what does the welcoming tour entail?”

Putting the jeep in gear, she hit the gas as they flew down the tarmac towards the mess. “First stop, by recommendation, is the mess where you can get some grub then I’ll show you the barracks and the tower, where your office will be located.”

“Can you tell me a bit more about Thorpe Abbotts?” He asked, as she glanced over at him.

Shrugging, she geared down, slowing the jeep down as they neared the mess hall. “I’ve only been here for 8 weeks so there’s not much to tell. The US has only had the base for the last 12 weeks. Men come and go and the world keeps turning.”

“Eight weeks? That’s not very long.” He commented as she stopped the jeep and made to get out, he followed behind her.

Shaking her head, she opened the door, motioning him to go before her. “I was transferred here recently. It wasn’t my choice to be here but we do what we must.”

He heard the remorse and heaviness in her voice as he walked through the door. The mess was loud and rambunctious with officers scattered around. He followed her as she set her stuff down at a table. “Grab some grub and we’ll discuss what the afternoon will look like.”

“Are you getting any?” The concern was evident in his voice as she shook her head.

“Already ate before you came.” She sat down at the table, flipping through the papers, making some notes along the way as he disappeared to join the line. Addie smiled at some of the men that were scattered around as they caught her eye.

Soon a tray was dropped onto the table, knocking her back into the present. She plastered a smile on her face as Major Egan dropped into his seat and started eating. “This afternoon, you’ll have a meeting with Colonel Huglin and Colonel Baker. They’ll meet with you on expectations and what the next few weeks look like. Any questions so far?”

“All my questions are about you and not the base.” He smirked. “But can I reserve the right to ask some along the way?”

She chuckled. “Ask away, Bucky. Anything I don’t want to answer, I won’t.”

“You mentioned that it wasn’t your choice to come to Thorpe Abbotts, yet you’re here. Why?” He asked, shoveling another bite into his mouth.

She shook her head, giving him a look. “You’re going to have to get me drunk before I start discussing those secrets. Next question?”

“Challenge accepted, Captain. So can I take you out sometime?” He raised an eyebrow in challenge.

Addie giggled. “You haven’t been on the ground for an hour yet you are already asking me out. My, my Major don’t you move fast? I don’t even know where you’re from or your first name.”

“Manitowoc, Wisconsin and John, ma’am.” He showed her the million watt smile that usually got him his way.

Scoffing, she shook her head. “Of course you’re a Wisconsin man. Charm never fails you, does it?”

“What’s wrong with Wisconsin, Adelaide?” Leaning forward, John failed to see the issue with his home state.

She paused hearing her full name come from his lips, a smirk tugging on her own lips. “You can call me Addie. And nothing is wrong with it - I spent part of my summers growing up in Northern Wisconsin, a gorgeous state. You're exactly like the charming man I met in my past life who is from Wisconsin.”

“And where are you from, Addie?” He asked, turning the question back on her.

Pushing aside the papers, she folded her hands, looking at him. “Grew up on the Selfridge Air National Guard Base, just north of Detroit, Michigan. My dad has been in the military since I was a baby so we made our home there. My older sister and brother are both doing their part in the war effort currently.”

“Did you move around a lot as a child?” John asked, pushing his tray away and leaning back in his chair.

Shaking her head, Addie smiled. “Thankfully no. We moved once from the westside of Michigan to Selfridge on the eastside right after I was born and stayed there until I came over for the war, just before Pearl Harbor. I was part of the ATAs when Jaqueline Cochran brought a group over and never left. Where does the nickname Bucky come from?”

“Childhood nickname, don’t quite remember how it started. So you’re a fly girl?” His eyes widened, impressed with her as he looked at the woman in front of him.

She stood, grabbing her paper, giving him a look. “A former one, yes. Come along Major. We have places to be.”

“But I have so many more questions.” The whine was evident in his voice as he followed her through the mess hall.

Shaking her head, she pushed open the door, holding it for him to follow. “If you’re lucky, you might find me at the officers club tonight. But until then, your tour awaits.”

Climbing back into the jeep, she slowed in front of the infirmary. “Beware of the nurses in there. Some of them aren’t nice.”

“Speaking from experience?” John grinned, looking at her through his aviator sunglasses.

She smirked. “When you come home with a head wound that’s needing stitches, they tend to kick up a fuss and aren’t very gentle. It was Elizabeth, my own sister that did that. But she’s gone now.”

“Gone?” The concern was back in his voice as Addie smiled softly.

“She got transferred to Suippes, France last I heard. But that was three weeks ago so who knows.” She sighed. “That’s what she gets for being so damn good at her job.”

Gunning the engine, Addie continued on pointing out other buildings before coming to a stop at the barracks. “Head in, Major. Lieutenant Davis should be awaiting you to show you your bunk. I’ll wait here before taking you over to the tower to meet with the Colonels.”

He nodded, grabbing his bags before getting out of the jeep. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry your Elizabeth is so close to the action. That can’t be easy.”

“We all do what we must, Major. This is just part of war.” She gave him a tight smile, watching him walk away.

As Addie waited, she had just one question on her mind - what the hell had she gotten herself into?

———————————————————

Fifteen minutes after she watched him walk into the barracks, he was walking out through the door once more. Climbing back into the jeep, he adjusted his hat before giving her a look. “Onward?”

Nodding, she shifted the jeep, pressing the gas pedal as they sped forward. “Who am I meeting with again?”

His voice broke the comfortable silence that had settled between them. “Colonel Huglin and Colonel Baker. They’ll set expectations for you for the upcoming weeks while we await your boys to land.”

“Any relation to you?” Bucky asked, as she snorted, chuckling.

“Took you long enough to ask.” She pulled to a stop in front of the tower. “And yes, that’s my father. He was reassigned here four weeks ago.”

Bucky’s eyes went wide. “And the fear factor just went up a bit.”

“Awww Major, don’t be scared of Colonel Baker.” She dropped her voice and winked. “The one you need to be scared of is Huglin. He’s a hard ass son of a bitch. And will probably whip you and your boys into shape in no time.”

Bucky threw his head back and laughed. He had never heard a girl with a mouth like hers and he couldn’t say he disliked it. “Damn Baker. You got a mouth on you.”

“Sorry.” She blushed. “When you grow up on a military base, you hear your fair share of words.”

Bucky quickly shook his head. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it. Just took me by surprise as you have been a perfect lady up until this point.”

“Looks can be deceiving, Major. Best to remember that.” She smirked, getting out of the jeep and motioning him to follow her. “Put on your military hat, Major. Your English military career starts now.”

He two fingered salute her before following her up the tower steps, stepping into the tower right behind her. “Major, welcome to Clearup Tower. This is where you’ll be stationed and awaiting news on your boys’ return. Both Colonels’ offices along with mine and your offices are located here as well.”

A throat clearing caught her attention as she smirked. “Ahh Major Egan, this is Josephine Adams, also known as my best friend. Josie, this is Major Egan, who just flew in today.”

“Pleasure to meet you Josie.” Bucky tipped his hat in her direction as he caught movement from behind him.

Addie came to attention as both Colonels shuffled in behind them. John quickly followed suit before the younger of the two called out “at ease.”

“Thank you Captain for showing Major Egan around. Major Egan, welcome to Thorpe Abbotts. I’m Colonel Huglin and this is Colonel Baker.” Huglin introduced himself, before looking in Addie’s direction. “You’re dismissed Captain Baker.”

Nodding to the men, Addie winked in Bucky’s direction before shuffling over to her desk. Taking a seat, she quickly flipped through the papers left on her desk as the men took their leave.

“Successful afternoon?” Josie whispered as the door to Huglin’s office closed.

Looking from the office to her best friend’s grin, Addie slowly nodded. “I believe so.”

“Well if there’s any consultation, that man couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, Adelaide.” Josie snickered. “So whatever you did earlier, keep doing it. Something has his attention.”

Ducking her face down, Addie felt her cheeks heat at Josie’s words. She didn’t do anything special, she thought. Just showed him around the base and answered his questions.

A million and one questions screamed in her head but one was louder than the rest - just what did Bucky Egan want with a girl like her?

What do you think? Feedback and comments would be most appreciated.

Chapter 2

[adobe-outdesign]

What about a Furfrou review ? Although I should probably say "reviews", all things considered... :p

Furfrou's default form is pretty boring, but I'm willing to give it a pass seeing as the whole point of it is the grooming gimmick, much like how Eevee is kind of plain but it's just because it has its evolution thing going on. There's not much to say about it, but I do like it's upturned snout and the bit of black on its face and legs.

My one nitpick is that I kind of wish it was less straight-furred? Like, it looks more like an afghan hound when untrimmed than any kind of poodle, and that could've easily been fixed by just giving it slightly wavier fur (emphasis on slightly, so there's still contrast with the trimmed forms).

But Furfou's main thing isn't just being a poodle—rather, it's a poodle that you can give haircuts to. This is a pretty fun gimmick, and it works well given how people trim poodles IRL. I do kind of wish it had some impact on gameplay so there'd be a reason to do it beyond aesthetics, but regardless, it's fun and memorable. The 'dex mentions that it becomes swifter when its trimmed, so why not give the trimmed forms a speed stat increase or something?

As a whole, these forms add some much needed visual punch with the addition of color (each form having a different palette, though the Matron trim probably should've been a more purple-ish purple) and the black areas of skin, which adds some much needed contrast.

Individually, each form can be broken into three categories:

The shape cuts (heart, star, and diamond)

The hat cuts (debutante, matron, and dandy)

The striped cuts (la reine, kabuki, and pharaoh)

My one issue with these cuts is that they can feel a bit repetitive after a certain point. Almost every single trim (except for the diamond cut) has colored leg fluff, all of them have fluff on their heads, and all have a colored tail in a distinct shape. It's possible they were just invoking the most common poodle trim, the continental clip, but couldn't we get a bit more variety?

I think the shape cuts do the best at differentiating the three in that group, as the placement of the fur is different on each, while the stripe cuts look the most similar. It feels like they could've had, say, a cut where all four legs are shaved, a cut where the tail has no color or shape, a cut with flatter hair on the head, a cut that's mostly shaved with only fur on the body... just more variety is all I'm saying.

For the record, I think my personal favorite is the diamond trim—I might be biased because orange is my favorite color, but I also like that it looks different than the other cuts and the amount of black on it. Least favorite is probably Kabuki, just because it's too similar compared to the other striped cuts and it's not as easy to tell what theme they were going for on that one without knowing the name.

Anyway, overall, a fun Pokemon with a decent gimmick, though I do feel like some kind of gameplay integration and more changes between the cuts would've helped it a bit.

(Also, GameFreak, make Furfrou and its trims available in a game again so they stop being a Literal Currency on the HOME GTS. Like seriously, what the hell)

[deathsbestgirl]

so i recently rewatched all things, what are your thoughts on that episode?

OOF. i love everything about all things.

i've written about it a few times, i think mostly in relation to other episodes, if you go through my all things tag, you'll find them along with a few from other people.

mostly, i love that this episode is as much about faith as so many others. but scully branches out -- i know some others take issue with this for whatever reasons, but i think it's a testament to scully's open mind and her view & respect for religion/faith. in my mind, it's like in the alchemist by paulo coelho (sorry i am so annoying about this book lol) where the main character views other religions as fake and by the end, god & allah are one in the same. i think that's a journey or belief that makes complete sense for scully.

so i put all things on just for this after annoying my wife & roomie all day with season two and three lol (hence one breath & paper clip mentions)

opening voiceover:

Time passes in moments ... moments which, rushing past define the path of a life just as surely as they lead towards its end. How rarely do we stop to examine that path, to see the reasons why all things happen, to consider whether the path we take in life is our own making or simply one into which we drift with eyes closed.

But what if we could stop, pause to take stock of each precious moment before it passes? Might we then see the endless forks in the road that have shaped a life? And, seeing those choices, choose another path?

i love fate vs choice in this show. i just watched paper clip where mulder tells scully "i don't think this about justice...i think it's about fate" -- about these terrible losses they've suffered and where it's going to lead them. these things that have been done to them, happened to them against their will. it's something they consistently struggle with. in christmas carol, scully dreams a memory with melissa where scully tells her "i don't believe in fate. i believe we make our own path." so much of this conversation is echoed back in this episode. scully has every word spoken by her favorite people running through her mind, waiting to understand and pull them out to share with mulder. she does it with ahab, mulder and melissa. like in paper hearts, scully quotes mulder himself back to him about dreams. here, she's contemplating fate & choices. the paths she may have walked if she chose differently, and what her choices mean. it isn't the life her parents would have chosen for her, and in some ways, it is not the life she wanted, but they were always the choices she was going to make.

as much i love the whole episode, the first and last scenes are the most impactful to me, at least character and relationship wise. everything between is how she finally got there, how she finally embraced the lesson melissa tried to instill her. (it also reminds me of the blessing way, when melissa urges scullys to try regression therapy. scully goes, but she flees and doesn't go back until patient x/the red and the black. when mulder is struggling with his own path, and she can't move forward with him without her memories. after cancer, after emily. scully learns this lesson, but from both melissa & mulder. i love that it's when mulder is backtracking. it's this balance game they play because their roles are necessary, and they are two sides of the same coin. yin and yang.)

there's also something to do every time the words "all things" are used. it's in scully's opening voice over, and caollenn says it to scully when she goes to pick up the files for mulder.

There is a greater intelligence in all things. Accidents-- or near accidents-- often remind us that we need to keep our mind open to the lessons it gives.

colleen feels like someone melissa sent to scully. the blonde woman guiding scully, to colleen, to mulder, to an open mind & other faiths.

scully is initially dismissive of colleen's work, but something about colleen's words stuck with her and she goes back. colleen talks about choices and being true to yourself and "the signs along the way."

what i love is i believe scully actually did this, and this episode is kind of about realizing that? she went to med school because it felt right, and when it started to feel wrong, she joined the fbi because that's what her entire being was telling her. it may have looked & seemed & felt wrong to others, but as melissa tells her, it isn't their life. scully is the one who has to live the path she chose. struggling with our choices is a normal part of life and scully's have had some big consequences for her and her loved ones. but what other choice could she make? they were right for her, and she can't control everything. she couldn't have stopped anything because it was never her fault. something both her & mulder grapple with.

i love when she tells daniel he needs to deal with his choices. she didn't make him do anything, in fact she left because it's what she believed was right. he decided to blow up his family and couldn't deal with the ways he hurt them (familiar, isn't it? i think a running theme in this show).

scully has her vision in a buddhist temple, as mulder puts it, she talks to god and it leads her down an alternative path to help daniel, thanks to her conversation with colleen. and colleen actually helps connect with her someone. i absolutely adore this scene because it mirrors melissa & mulder meeting in one breath. mulder struggled with melissa's beliefs, even as they're similar in some ways. the same as scully struggles with them, similar to the ways scully & mulder struggle with each other's beliefs (or maybe, more accurately, when they step out of their skeptic/believer roles).

it's interesting to me, how daniel seems to belittle anything that isn't medicine in helping someone heal. it doesn't seem to reflect scully's beliefs as a doctor. "imagine a miracle and you're halfway there." something about a commitment to quality of life and honoring the person, not just extending life. it's a gift she gives to daniel, this understanding of life and people. something he wasn't able to extend to her. respect for choice. something mulder & scully always honor for the other. always validating, always helping in any way they can. always supportive even if they don't agree. always listening despite disagreement or disbelief. always taking the other seriously as no one else has ever done for them.

ultimately, mulder comes looking for scully and they go back to his place to drink some tea and talk about her revelations. to philosophize about choice and fate, and how maybe it's kind of the same thing. they had choice, but there was always only one choice.

[incorrectbatfam]

Got any Carrie Kelly headcanons? She is such an underrated Robin

For those of you who are new here, Carrie Kelley is technically the third Robin after Jason. She's had a couple of cameos across different universes (like as Damian's acting teacher), but the majority of her appearances are confined to Frank Miller's The Dark Knight Returns where she is a 13-year-old girl who takes up the Robin mantle herself after an aging Bruce returns to the vigilante scene. Her canon sucks, but since I'm out here butchering the batfam anyway, I might as well revamp her characterization.

In regards to her place in the batfam, I think 13-14 is a good age for her because it helps fill in the gap between Tim/Duke and Damian, plus it adds balance because the rest of the girls skew older and it gives her more room for growth. Also 13 is prime Chaotic Weird Girl age and Carrie would absolutely be one

And I know she was briefly Batgirl in canon but can we also revamp that? There's a Batgirl void that she can totally fill but canon is like unseasoned boiled brussels sprouts. In my mind she's Batgirl but with a better costume, different mindset, and keeps her fun and distinct firecracker slingshot

Every time she goes shopping with Alfred, she comes back with another candlestick. She's up to ten now and they're all sitting in her room, fire hazards waiting to happen

She volunteers to help with the kindergarten and she's really good with kids... when she's not acting like one herself. She comes home after the first day with finger paint all over her face

A carjacker tries to break into the Batmobile and she just walks up to them like "Excuse me that's not yours"

She always keeps the dictionary up on her phone in the unlikely event she needs to prove to someone that contranyms are thing

She knows exactly what certain words mean, but pretends she doesn't and uses them wrong in the family groupchat because she knows Bruce will ask, which forces the other batkids to not only explain what a malewife is, but also correct Carrie by demonstrating how to use it correctly

She remembers every Taylor Swift song by heart and she's not ashamed

"Any pool is a public pool if you have the initiative," she says before selling wristbands for Bruce's pool

She gets the pets their own phones so she and Damian can text them throughout the day

She asks Bruce before taking any money, but the way she frames it is weird. For example, she'll ask him for a hundred bucks to buy some video games because that's the market price only to get them for $20 at a garage sale and spend the rest at on a really expensive burger

She's one of the privileged few to come across a person buying 300 watermelons in real life

Her invitations to hang out are like "Wanna come over? We can watch a movie or clean the Batcave, whatever works"

Damian is the "don't eat meat" type of environmentalist, but Carrie is the "I'll spam you with sad turtle pictures so you'll recycle plastic" type of environmentalist

She stocks up on Teen Spirit deodorant so she can say she smells like Teen Spirit

Her makeup skills are... not good. Jason mistook her for a Joker sidekick

She also snuck into Jason's phone and hid one of his Robin pics in his profile

She clips her nails during Bruce's briefings

Carrie and Duke go to the bookstore and see who can find the most Written By A Male Author book

She drinks water with a dash of olive oil

At galas she wears suit tops with skirts and light-up Sketchers

Carrie also doesn't care too much about gender or pronouns. She has a "she/they" pin on her backpack, but that's only 'cause she found it on a bathroom floor and liked the color

Her favorite nap spot is Bruce's favorite chair. It's a huge plush armchair and she's small enough to pass off as a cushion, so Bruce always has to double-check before sitting down

Carrie can read cues in other relationships, but not her own. After Kon offers to refill Tim's drink she's like "ooh he likes you" but when a kid at school gives her flowers on Valentine's day she's like "I think they were just being friendly"

She's the only Robin not to have dentists ask about broken or missing teeth

At a sleepover, she and a few other kids catfished someone on Hinge using a terrible teacher's picture

Her drawing skills are pretty good (not Damian level though) and one time when Dick was sad she drew him as the Dreamworks crescent moon kid

She's friends with the old lady that shops at Trader Joe's the same time she does every week

She puts all her phone calls on speaker. ALL. OF. THEM

She goes to Canada on a short mission and promises to bring back souvenirs. She brings bagged milk

[ughdontbeboring]

so yal may be surprised af to know I’ve never watched Elvis the movie or even any clips even though I’ve been a Austin fan since his earlier days and a bigggh Baz fan since Romeo + Juliet (still so obsessed and Moulin Rouge ahhh so good) I honestly wasn’t sure how’d they portray Elvis and his relationship with black artist of the time and culture and I didn’t want to have to go there bc I adore them both. Plus I surprisingly don’t remember that much press for it but I know that’s more of who I was following. It’s only been the past couple months I’ve been catching up on that press tour and I’m so obsessed I love love lovvvvveeee Baz and Austin tg and I pray they work tg again.

but then eventually I obviously heard such good things about it and kept telling myself to watch it and idk just never did.

sooooooooo here I go yall and I have a feeling I’m about to be even more obsessed 😅🥲😭

also I asked my mom if she wanted to watch and she said “girl I been watched it! Me and grandma watched it together and it was so good, it was like watching an Elvis concert. Put it on I’ll watch it again”

like ok wow girl you just been watched it without me 🙄 also I’m sure she doesn’t realize Austin is the same actor from our show The Shannara Chronicles. Gosh I loved that series when it aired.

so I’ll be back and down bad and even worse for Austin and stil pledging my love for Baz all these years later.

UPDATE BELOW

wow yall just wow

wow wow wowwwwww I’m obsessed

it was so emotional and so visually stunning. I personally loved the respect and appreciation they showed for black culture. I know people are 50/50 on it but I feel like was never told this way, that Elvis did in fact care and appreciate this community he grew up in and felt accepted by. When he needed to get back to himself THAT is where he could go either physically or in song.

wow Austin was wow. He was extraordinary. I love love Brendan but idk Austin just brought a life and emotion to Elvis NO ONE has been able to over all these years. From his happiness to his grief. He was able to bring back a love and appreciation for Elvis. Def Oscar worthy.

and Baz. A real fucking genius. No one could have made this movie but him, not in true Elvis fashion. I think Elvis would have loved the way he shot this. The way Baz told his story. but it is a film sadly I will probably never watch again it was just tooo emotional for me. I’m sucker for people losing their parents young or being taking advantage of and he was!!! And he died sooooooo young I swear my whole life I thought this man passed in his 60s and he was HARDLY 40!! Omg my heart just breaks for him and those who truly loved and cared for him.

I really don’t have a favorite part but i love all the early shots of Elvis and Austin in the pink!! Ah! And the pink lace omg it’s just such a look. Austin pulls off the pink so well. Him running around on Beale Street. The opening scene with Elvis and how we hardly see his face as we’re tryna catching up with him and we mostly just see the people around him. I love how the guy yells out at him fairy or something and you can just see the gf intrigued and then Elvis just goes off and then she’s the first one to scream and then he yells for her to sit down when she jumps up! lmfao I was cracking up. Loved that part.

one of the other parts I loved is how Baz shoots Toms character the colonel when he’s trying to get a first look at young Elvis out back. He truly shot him like the predator he was. That was just ugh I loved that part, young Elvis is w his mama and those who care abt him and he’s nervous and just tryna get a grip and here he is watching and just taking in what he can to use for his own good. Ugh fucking piece of shit.

and the closet scene crying over him mama 😭 that must have been emotional for Austin.

and when they threatened him not to shake a pinky and he does before letting loose and all hell breaks loose.

I can see why Austin ended up in the hospital right after filming it must have taken such a toll on his body I can’t imagine what Elvis was actually feeling and sadly I understand why he passed so young.

I mean 10/10!! stunning

loooooveeeed this scene!! And how they shot the focus.

[mushiewrites]

George’s Favorite Rib

yay!!!!!! it's day 2 of lee!George week! I knew from the very beginning that "ribs" was going to be a day on the prompt list, I just can't help myself when it comes to george ): My need to destroy him is too strong ): While I was writing this I was thinking about (and replaying) this clip over and over and over again...just to let you all know what my mind was doin 🫠

day 2 - ribs / prompts here!

(lee!George / ler!Sapnap / ler!Karl : 2K words)

“George, chill.”

“I cahahan’t! Leave mehehe alone!”

“Is he always this squirmy?” Karl turned his head in Sapnap’s direction as he finally latched onto the flailing arm below him, successfully trapping it against the bed and giggling when Sapnap rolled his eyes at the question.

He had walked in on Karl trying to tickle George silly and offered his assistance; George denied profusely, but Karl happily accepted the help.

Sapnap had made his way up onto the bed, sitting on the opposite side of George’s body that Karl was and draped one of his shins across the older boy’s thighs. Karl followed suit and watched as Sapnap easily scooped up George’s left wrist in his hand, capturing the right wrist in his own grip seconds later. Now, George had no choice but to lay there and take whatever the two younger boys were planning on giving him.

“Yeah. Believe it or not, this is actually nothing.” Sapnap explained over the frantic giggles that were threatening to grow in volume with every second that passed. The smaller boy had an easier time trapping the flying limbs, knowing exactly what moves George would make to escape before he even made them himself.

“Come on, Georgie, it’s just a little tickling! Let me finish exploring!” Karl couldn’t help but chuckle when the brunette immediately whined at the nickname, drawing it out further once he heard the younger boy’s proposal.

“Noho! Y-You did enough!” George shuddered at the memory of ten boney fingers prodding into the bottom rib on either side of him just moments before, breaking into higher pitched giggles when his arms attempted to pull back towards his body on instinct with no success.

“Now, where were we…” Karl spoke as if George wasn’t there, paying no mind to his fake protests and pleas as he placed his hand over the second rib from the bottom. He let his finger press in slightly, letting out a giggle in delight when George squeaked and jerked away from his touch. Karl’s hand followed, pinching and prodding into the sensitive little rib as George began to giggle once again.

“Nohoho fair! D-Dohohon’t, Karl! Plehease just- noHOHO! Sahahapnap!” George continued to lean towards the left, only changing direction when Sapnap’s waiting hand finally met his previously unbothered rib on the other side of him and began squeezing like his life depended on it. George let out a cackle at that, immediately turning his head and hiding it in his shoulder out of embarrassment at his own reaction.

“Come on, baby boy, don’t hide from us!” Sapnap pressed his pointer finger and thumb into the specific rib on his left side, rubbing back and forth and giggling himself when it pulled a shriek out of the squirming boy beneath him.

“Yeah, we wanna see your pretty face!” Karl added, kneading his pointer finger knuckle against the rib on George’s right side as he complimented him. He watched as the blush from George’s cheeks began to spread to the tips of his ears, clearly not knowing how to handle the attention he was receiving from both boys.

“Nahahaha please! Plehease, I- I cahahan’t breathe! Ow, it huhuhurts!”

“Don’t fall for his bullshit, Karl,” Sapnap spoke up quickly, noticing the newly formed hesitancy in Karl’s movements at the threat of actually hurting George. “He does it with Dream all the time. You’re not hurting him, it means whatever you’re doing is working. You’re tickling him, and you’re tickling him well.”

“Is this true? Are you lying to me, George?” A long whine between his giggles was enough to convince Karl that George was definitely faking, only fueling him to dig into George’s rib harder to hear him cackle again. Sapnap and Karl exchanged a glance as they continued up the boy’s rib cage, now gently pressing in and rubbing over the third rib from the bottom.

“No! No no nohohoho! I’m- nohoho!”

The two younger boy’s laughed at the response, both beginning to focus on the rib on their respective sides with precision. Sapnap was still rubbing with his pointer finger, using just enough pressure and speed to get George howling while Karl poked rapidly at the other rib, making him writhe and beg.

“I don’t think this hurts you, George,” Karl began, watching how much Sapnap’s movements got to the squirmy boy and switching his own actions to match the youngests. “I think this tickles. I think this tickles a lot.”

“Fuhuhuck off!”

“Oh?”

“Wahait, wait don’t- nahAHAHA!”

Karl’s gaze was still glued to Sapnap’s hand as the younger boy switched from rubbing into the third rib to squeezing at the dip of George’s waist, just below the bottom ribs. George was full on squealing, and Karl watched in amusement as he tried his best to buck his hips into the air to dislodge the tickly attack on his sides, giggling when the elder let out a groan after failing to do so.

“Don’t you EVER talk to Karl like that,” Sapnap stated harshly, smiling up at Karl when he heard the boy chuckle at the ridiculous comment. “Apologize!”

“Okahahahay! Okahay OKAY! I’m sohohorry!”

“That’s more like it.” Karl flashed a smile down at George, fully aware the brunette had his eyes squeezed shut from the force of his laughter and couldn’t see him anyway.

“Uh oh, George, look how close we are…” Sapnap mumbled, readjusting his grip to pinch over the fourth rib from the bottom, softly giggling when George’s laughter doubled in volume.

“Close?” Karl asked, not entirely understanding but following the younger boy’s lead anyway and squeezing lightly at the opposite rib on the right.

“That’s right, close,” The youngest of the three confirmed, picking up the speed of his pinches and watching as George threw his head back and forth against the bed through his wailing. “The next rib up is his favorite! Isn’t it, Georgie?”

“NOHOHO!”

George was pushing and pulling his arms as much as he could, trying everything and anything to break free from the hands holding down his wrists, but it was no use. Karl and Sapnap had a tight grip on him, especially considering that his laughter was slowly zapping away any strength he’d previously had when he’d first been wrestled down into the blankets.

“Yes, George! Absolutely yes! Teach me the best way to wreck this little cutie, Sap!”

Before George had a chance to speak, a squeal tore from his throat as he felt a light pressure against his most sensitive rib. Sapnap had moved his hand to George’s fifth rib from the bottom, towards the center of his rib cage, and began rubbing his pointer finger over the bone at an agonizingly slow pace. George let out a shriek when Sapnap pressed down with a little more pressure, throwing his head back and kicking his legs as much as he could in the position the two were holding him in.

“OHOHO MY GOHOHOD!”

“Geez, you weren’t kidding!” Karl let out a high pitched giggle as George let out another squeal, noticing the slight wetness at the corners of the elders eyes and reaching forward to wipe it away with the sleeve of his shirt with his free hand. “This must be torture for you, huh, sweetheart?”

“Oh I’m sure it is,” Sapnap spoke up for him, knowing George’s ability to speak in sentences had vanished the second his worst rib was targeted. “But, you said you wanna see what gets him the most here?”

“Of course I do!” Karl was poking at the rib on his respective side now, smirking as he lazily followed George’s body whenever it jerked away towards Sapnap’s direction.

“Okay, so tickle him like this and he’s a goner.”

Karl watched as Sapnap used his pointer finger to press against the bone before drawing the tiniest, slowest circles he’d ever seen. George just about convulsed, looking like he’d just been shocked with electricity before falling back against the bed with the loudest cackles Karl had ever heard.

“Oh my God? Sapnap we’re gonna kill him!” Karl tested the trick for himself and was met with immediate wails from the elder, stopping almost as quickly as he started as he watched George’s face turn bright red.

“Nah, he’s alright. He’s used to it with Dream around.” A disapproving grunt came from George through his high pitched howling, clenching and unclenching his fists as he endured the ticklish circles on his most sensitive spot.

“NAHAHAHA P-PLEHEHE- SAHAHA- NOHOHO!”

Sapnap could hear the strain in the brunette’s voice and knew he was reaching his threshold. He slowly stopped the circles, gradually going back to softly rubbing his finger against the bone to hear George giggle a little more before stopping completely. The two immediately let go of George’s wrists as Sapnap removed his leg that was draped over George’s thighs to allow him to curl in on himself, both cooing at how adorable he was and showering him in affection.

“You did so good, George,” Sapnap rubbed softly at the wrist he was previously holding before gently placing it against the blankets below them, moving to rub over the elders shoulder instead. “You’re so blushy.”

“Sh-Shuhuhut up!”

Sapnap ran a hand through the older boy's hair, unable to stop his smile from widening when despite the harsh command, George leaned into the comforting touch anyway. He watched as Karl used both hands to rub up and down the giggly boy’s ribs, hoping to soothe the buzzing beneath his skin and calm his laughter.

They stayed in the comfortable silence for a few minutes, Karl and Sapnap taking care of George as much as they could to help him come down from the tickly high he was floating in. After another minute passed and George seemed to regulate his breathing, Karl spoke up, sitting back onto his shins as he did.

“Well that was an experience, huh?” Karl laughed, his giggles mixed with his question as he continued to rub lightly at the pink skin that was visible from how much his shirt had ridden up while squirming.

“Honestly, that was nothing. You should see what happens when you get the backs of his ribs. Now that’s an experience.”

The statement hung heavy in the air surrounding them while Karl registered the weight of Sapnap’s words, letting out a small gasp of excitement when it finally clicked. George’s eyes widened as a mischievous smile began to spread over the boy's face, watching as it formed into a smirk when Karl’s gaze met Sapnap’s with the same energy.

“The backs?”

“Don’t you dare.”

“...I think it’s worth it.”

“What?! Karl, n-noHOHOHO!”

George was quickly maneuvered from melting into the blankets on his back, the two suddenly flipping him onto his tummy and immediately taking hold of his wrists once more. Karl was quick to straddle the backs of George’s thighs, making sure to limit any mobility the elder may gain from trying to escape. George felt a light pressure against his back as Karl leaned forward, lips grazing the brunette’s ear and making him scrunch his shoulder up to protect it.

“Relax, okay? You’re fine,” George squealed as he felt a squeeze on his upper ribs, laughter continuing to flow as Karl’s thumbs made tiny circles into the bones they could reach from his position. “Be a good kitten and let us keep exploring! Let us tickle you to tears, okay?”

George wanted to protest the demand, but as soon as the hands touched down onto his hypersensitive ribs in the middle of his back, it was game over. Sapnap showed Karl everything he needed to know on how to destroy George with just a few touches, while George was unable to do anything but laugh and take the tickling as he was tortured out of his mind.